Fluffy and Fishy
Oliver:
I wake up, but I refuse to open my eyes. What is it about reaching middle age that makes a person automatically wake up each morning at about the same time... whether you want to or not? It's like clockwork, and it makes the alarm seem useless. I sigh in frustration.
Why? Isn't it frustrating to have an incredible dream cut short? It's the same dream since Felicity and I came home from our two-week honeymoon in the Southeast Asian tropics. That's where the dream takes place, and she's the only person in it with me. Every time. Almost every night for more than a month now. And each time, the dream is longer, more romantic, more "fluffy" as the younger generation say today. I just can't seem to get my mind off my wife! I think about her constantly, in between meetings at the office, while I do paperwork, seated in the car while Diggle drives, or while I myself drive. Every time I get an opportunity, I reach for my phone to text or call her, and ask how she is. No wonder I dream about her.
Perhaps it's because our honeymoon was awesome! We went swimming, jet-skiing, and island-hopping. There were days we just lay down on the white sand beach trying to either get a nice tan during the day or relax under the moonlight during the warmer evenings. Some days we just lounged around in the beach house watching the news, movies on cable, or reruns of her favorite TV shows. Other days, we were just in each other's arms for hours, cuddling and snuggling, which usually led to passionate moments of pure, unadulterated intimacy between a satisfied man and his equally satisfied wife. Oh, how we missed that in the past few months prior to our tropical get-away! We were both glad we went on that trip and were able to get away from work, child care, and the many demands of running a corporation and a family estate. It really did wonders for our marriage.
One of the highlights of our vacation was the visit to the Tubbataha Reefs National Park, which was in the middle of the Sulu Sea, about ten hours by boat from the main island of Palawan. The marine park was declared a World Heritage Site by the UNESCO in 1993 and is a protected area in the Philippines because of the perils of over-fishing and other destructive fishing practices. The park is world famous for its coral reefs, which are home to hundreds of species of fish, corals, sharks, whales, and dolphins. (Of course, I know all these because my wife did her homework and shared it with me. Visiting the park was actually her idea, and she begged me to let her learn how to snorkel and how to go diving into the deep blue sea.) By special permit and arrangement with the Philippine Coastguard and the Tubbataha Management Office, we were able to go diving in one of the best dive sites in the world. Felicity learned quickly how to use diving gear; to say that she enjoyed herself and had a grand time would be an understatement. All in all, we enjoyed the visit to the reefs so much so that my wife ended up writing a check from Queen Consolidated for a sizable donation to one of the environmental organizations that's dedicated to ensuring the park's preservation.
In the marine park, she and I stayed, slept, and ate on a yacht for three days. The trip was entirely vessel-based, as there were no land-based accommodation facilities in the park. Thanks to my wife's technical genius, we were able to book a yacht online using her tablet just before we boarded the plane from Starling City International Airport for the vacation. April is summer time - diving season - in that part of the world. Tourists and diving enthusiasts from around the world flock to Tubbataha from March to April and often book yachts and boats months, or even years, in advance. Three days on board a yacht, surrounded by the wonders of the sea, alone with my beautiful and attractive wife... What more could a guy ask for?
That's why my eyes remain shut. I'm reminiscing the most amazing vacation I've ever had in my life.
I roll over to Felicity's side of the bed and feel for her the warmth that her body usually offers, but there is nothing but cold sheets. That's when I open my eyes only to see her space empty. I wonder where she could be. My wife rarely gets up before I do, especially now that school's out and we don't have to wake up early to help the kids get ready.
"Felicity?" I call out to her, thinking that she's just in the bathroom. No answer. I decide - finally - to get up and shower.
Less than ten minutes later, I'm done. I wrap my over-sized towel around my waist and head for the dresser to get myself a clean shirt and a pair of denim walking shorts. Coming out of the bathroom and the walk-in closet, I come to a halt near the threshold and take in the delightful sight of my wife, who obviously has come back from an early morning jog.
Felicity has her back against me, so she doesn't know yet that I'm right behind her. She's facing the door of our bedroom. Both her arms are stretched out in front of her, her palms pushing against the door. One of her legs is bent low; the other is stretched out all the way back with the heel raised a couple of inches or so. She's cooling down with a stretching routine, and I watch her. Quietly and pleasantly amused. Her smooth and silky blonde hair is gathered up in the usual ponytail. She's wearing a pink spandex semi-bra sports top that bares both her arms, and gray running shorts that leaves most of her perfectly shaped legs uncovered. Her athletics outfit accentuates the curves of her torso, hips, and bottom in an undeniably desirable way.
I can't breathe. Cold sweat starts to form on my forehead, my neck, and back. I feel as if rushing back to the bathroom and getting a cold shower might be the best course of action for me right now.
"Get a grip, Oliver! Snap out of it!" I mentally scold myself. I look down at the floor, trying to avoid gazing further at the alluring figure of the woman in my bedroom, who still doesn't have the faintest idea she was being gawked upon. But then it dawns on me: "Why should I snap out of it? She's my wife!"
I look up and fix my eyes on this beautiful creature - heaven's gift to an undeserving man. I realize it isn't lust I'm feeling. Nope. Lust is a strong desire for something forbidden, someone that isn't rightfully yours and yet you insist on having at any cost... no matter how willing a partner that person is. Felicity was my best friend, who became my lover, and is now my one and only wife. The desire I feel for her deserves no guilt, no shame. It's an intense delight and longing for someone that belongs to me, as I belong to her. And yet... it is chaste, unsullied, and untainted either by selfish motives or by wild, uncontrolled passion. We belong to each other, and so it is perfectly all right (and expected, actually) to desire the other eagerly, because we made a solemn commitment to each other in the presence of Almighty God and two hundred witnesses that shared our joy. Outside of marriage, looking at her this way would be a mistake, which could lead to another terrible mistake that would have serious, long-term consequences - just like the ones I have had to live with - not just for the ones involved but also for everyone they care about.
I once heard Rev. Olsen preach, quoting a verse from the Bible that, in the eyes of God, looking at a woman with lust in one's eyes is already committing adultery with her. My mind flashes back to the countless times I was guilty of doing just that in my sordid past, even when I was already married to Laurel. I close my eyes in painful regret, and then I whisper a short prayer, thanking God for the freedom that His forgiveness has brought to my life, and for the undeserved second chance of a wonderful life with Felicity and our beautiful children.
You see, when I married her, I loved her so much. I had never loved anyone like I loved her. Not even my first wife. On our wedding night, I had wanted to give her the best, most special gift I could give the love of my life. I had wanted so much to hold her close and tell her that she was going to be my first time. I had wanted to be alone with her without any tinge of regret in my heart, free from un-erasable images of past lovers playing back in my mind. But I couldn't.
During our first honeymoon, Felicity told me that she had wanted to tell me the same thing. It had made her very sad that she, too, couldn't. As we talked it through, we both agreed that this was perhaps the biggest regret of our lives. Nevertheless, we were happy and grateful to have realized that, because the two of us had waited to be married and exercised every bit of restraint we could muster to remain pure for each other, we were able to share our first intimate moment - and every other blissful moment after that - with joyful and guiltless pleasure.
That night, before we went to bed, we made a pact that we would not fail to teach our children about how vitally important it is to keep themselves pure for the right person when the time comes. I promised to teach our future son or sons to respect women and treat them like they would their own mother and sisters, instead of take advantage of them. She promised to teach our future daughter or daughters to value their purity and behave honorably, reserving the most intimate of relationships for the one whom they would wisely commit to. I vowed that with God's help, I would do everything within my power so that no Queen gentleman would break any more female hearts. She vowed to do everything she can so that none of our daughters would venture down the path of promiscuity or ever allow themselves to be taken advantage of. We both knew from experience that there's just too much at stake.
Felicity:
I finish my stretching routine and turn around to find my husband looking straight at me. No, that's not exactly right. He is looking in my direction, but it seems like he's actually been lost in thought for quite a while. For what reason, it escapes me. So, I attempt to get his attention by clearing my throat. That's when he really looks at me.
"Morning!" I greet him. "I was feeling a bit woozy and lightheaded today so I thought I'd go for an early morning run." I tilt my head slightly and with a flirtatious smile on my face, I ask, "So... how long have you been standing there, gawking at me?"
"Long enough to see how unbelievably attractive you are," he replies, picking up on my teasing.
He leans against the doorpost separating our room from the walk-in closet that led to the bathroom. He is waiting for me to close the gap between us. His eyes trace the outline of my figure from head to foot and then he looks me straight in the eyes. A genuine smile breaks out on his face and he says, "My, oh my... I do have a gorgeous wife." His compliment makes me bite my lower lip and lower my gaze for a brief moment. Then I catch a glimpse of myself on the mirror next to the spot where he is standing, and I see my face blushing as red as a ripe tomato.
I walk towards my husband, and when I am just inches away from his magnificent chest and firm six-pack that always drive me crazy, he adds, "Don't you ever think of jogging in public wearing that."
"Oh, I won't," she answers. "Don't worry, Mr. Queen. This outfit is definitely going into my for-your-eyes-only collection."
And then his lips are on mine, crashing hard. His bare arms pull me close into a tight embrace, and I respond by wrapping my sweaty arms around his neck. The sweat doesn't seem to bother him, even if he had just come out of the shower. As he pulls back slightly to break the kiss, he asks me tenderly in a modulated voice, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"All the time," I reply, brushing my nose against his.
"I think I love you more today than yesterday," he confesses sincerely and affectionately.
"That, my dear husband, is perhaps one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me," I remark.
As soon as I finish that sentence, we are kissing again. His hands caress my back, then my waist, and then my hips. My heartbeat picks up and my breathing begins to race as electricity surges through my body. The next thing I know is...
Emily:
"Dad?" my younger sister Liv asks in shock, her eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. "Why are you squeezing Mommy's butt?"
Clearly startled, yet unwilling to break apart from their embrace, our parents just gasp in surprise. Dad closes his eyes and grits his teeth, and then he rests his forehead on the crown of Mom's head. Mom simply giggles, obviously unable to find the right words to explain their shocking behavior to a four-year-old. Little Carrie, who instantly covered her eyes as we stumbled upon our parents' gross display of affection, is now frowning. I, on the other hand, do not need further enlightenment as to the unbelievable demonstration of spine-chilling, horrifying fluff that my sisters and I had just witnessed. I mean, this is not the first time Stephen or I had walked in on Mom and Dad kissing and touching in ways only married people could and should.
Thinking that my parents needed a way out of this mess with their untarnished reputation intact in the eyes of my younger siblings, I answer Liv's question for them, giving the most creative explanation I can come up with at the moment: "Dad is massaging Mom's butt to keep it from sagging. Butts sag as you grow older, you know."
That causes our dad to break out in uncontrollable laughter. Mom loses any remaining composure left in her; she guffaws and buries her face in Dad's furry chest in utter embarrassment. I roll my eyes as my sisters and I witness this, and for a moment there, I worry that Dad's towel would come loose and drop to the floor as he laughs his heart out. "Don't feel bad. Once you get used to seeing them this way, it won't be as gross as it seems," I tell my sisters.
It takes Mom and Dad almost a minute to recover from embarrassment and amusement, and then Mom breaks away from their embrace. She turns around and tells us, "Okay, girls, show's over." She approaches us near the door and kneels in front of Carrie. "Why don't you go on, get breakfast, and let your dad and I get dressed? Why are you up earlier than usual, by the way?" Mom asks.
Liv answers, "Well, we woke up early coz we're excited about the housewarming party at Aunt Thea's. That's today isn't it? Isn't it, Mom? Is everyone coming? Will Grandpa Lance be there? How about Dana and Andy? Are Uncle John and Aunt Lyla bringing them along?" Liv shot one question after another like firing a machine gun at our mom.
"Whoa! Hold your horses, Livvy dear!" Mom exclaims. "And yes, the housewarming is today at noon, and almost everyone will be there. Aunt Sara can't make it coz she's busy with work at Central City."
"That's so cool! Can't wait!" Liv responds with excitement, rubbing her palms together.
"All right, that's enough. Go, have breakfast, girls. We'll be downstairs with you shortly," Dad says.
"For some reason I doubt that," I mutter under my breath, but my mom hears me loud and clear. "Emily?!" she says with that stern look of disapproval on her face. Seriously, our mother has the sonar abilities of a bat.
Just as Mom leads us out of the room, the boys come in.
"Warning," I whisper to Stephen as we pass each other. "The fluff really is back. Totally." Stephen just smiles and shrugs his shoulders.
TJ:
"Good morning, Mom! Good morning, Dad!" I greet our parents with a smile on my face.
"Good morning, buddy!" Dad says to me. He scoops me up into his arms. I just love it when Dad suddenly picks me up like that. His arms are so strong. Someday I'm going to have big, strong limbs like him, and I'm gonna hug him like a great big bear.
"Good morning, Stephen," Dad greets my brother, who was holding my smaller hand in his just a second ago.
"Morning, Dad!" Stephen greets back as Dad claps him on the back.
Stephen hands the morning paper and a package to our dad.
Stephen:
"What's this?" Dad asks.
"I don't know. A courier delivered it a while ago. I saw the truck drive up just outside the front door. Lucia received it and asked me to give it to you."
"I see. Thanks, son," Dad says. He puts TJ down. My little brother climbs onto the king-sized bed and begins to use it as a trampoline.
Dad tears open the package with his bare hands as he walks towards the window where the morning light is shining through in order to get a better look at its contents. From where I am standing, I can see that the package contains documents. Dad begins to scan through the papers, and an ugly frown begins to form on his face. Whatever is in those documents is clearly upsetting him. Fast. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. And then he turns his back against me and says, "Stephen, kindly see that your brother and sisters start with breakfast now. Lucia can help you. Your Mom and I just have something important to talk about. Okay?"
Just by the look on my dad's face, and the fact that he's doing that thing again with the fingers of his clenched fist, I sense trouble. I smell something fishy, but I just nod and say, "Okay. See you later, Dad."
Just as TJ and I turn to leave the room, Mom returns.
Felicity:
"Hey," Oliver says to me. He has this troubled look on his face.
"Hey, what's up?" I ask.
"This package arrived just now."
"Who from?"
"You wouldn't believe it."
"Try me."
"It's from a local law firm... representing Helena Bertinelli." Oliver pauses. "Apparently, she intends to sue QC for unlawful termination of her employment contract, and she intends to claim damages. They want to set a meeting to talk about an amicable settlement."
"What?! You're kidding!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Let me see that." I grab the documents from my husband's hand and look them over. It's true. She is suing the company. Our company. "That woman has some nerve! She's the one who tries to seduce her boss's husband, yet she has the gall to sue and claim damages? Unbelievable!" I yell in anger and disgust.
"Calm down, honey," Oliver says. "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical and legal solution to this. HRD cleared her termination and did all the necessary paperwork. We can fix this," my husband assures me.
"I do hope so, Mr. CEO," I respond in exasperation. "I just can't help think that there's more to this than just a labor issue. Something's not right."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for starters, I can understand why and how a desperate, shrewd woman like Helena would want to take advantage of her getting fired to collect money from a billion-dollar company. What I don't get is this: Why would she ask her lawyers to have the legal papers sent to our home? Look." I show Oliver the name and address on the package. "This package is addressed to you, Oliver Jonas Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated. But the address below your name is the address of the Queen Mansion. Helena is making a statement. This is personal to her."
Oliver is speechless for a while, thinking about what I had just said. Seconds later, he speaks. "I get what you mean. I think it's best if we ask Tommy to handle this matter on our behalf. If this is a malicious attack against our family, we need someone we can trust. QC's legal department might not be able to handle this case discreetly, and I don't want any sensitive information leaking to the press."
"I agree. I trust Tommy," I affirm my husband's wise decision.
Oliver must have seen the change in the expression on my face because he comes closer and touches my shoulder tenderly, reassuringly. "Don't worry, baby. Everything will be all right. We'll get through this together, like we always do."
"I know. I love you. And I trust you," I say, my voice beginning to crack. "But I don't trust Helena Bertinelli. She has something up her sleeve."
A/N: So this is where the suspense begins to build up. I hope that in the last seven to eight chapters I've been able to establish the kind of relationship that Oliver and Felicity have in this AU, as well as the kind of relationships the Queen family has. Now we're ready for some mystery and action. Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Thank you!
