A/N: Thank you all for your welcomes back and condolences about my little Mabel. You're all very sweet. 3
Work has been brutal as expected this week, and I'm working the weekend but I'm still hoping to do an update during the weekend at some point. Watch this space. ;)
As for life in general – it's raining here… a lot… finally. Man, there is nothing sadder than living in the wet tropics without the wet. Lawns were going brown – that's just not right. Of course, now we're getting so much rain the earth can't suck it up quickly enough. Hank doesn't do well in the wet weather. When his fur gets wet he goes kinda insane – you know, like kids in a school yard when it rains. He's currently running with scissors AND sitting too close to the TV – yep, Hank's living on the edge.
And they're my good scissors.
Did you guys have that in your house growing up – the good scissors. You'd need scissors to do something for school or what not, and your mother's disembodied voice would find you wherever you were… 'You're not using the good scissors, are you?' she'd demand to know. Apparently the good scissors weren't for cutting paper with… not sure what they were used for though. The answer to that question was always steeped in adult mystery that I never got around to finding out. Plus, the existence of 'good' scissors, always made me think about the reality of 'bad' scissors, and what that might entail. I kind of envisage 'bad' scissors hanging out late at night on poorly lit street corners, smoking and just generally skulking about. I'm not going to lie, I gave that scenario way more thought than was probably healthy for an nine year old at the time.
But yes, Hank is going a little stir crazy cooped up inside and I won't let him go outside because there is nothing worse than your house smelling of wet brain monkey. Ugh. Except for maybe tripe being boiled on the stove – not a huge fan of that either… or pig trotters being boiled in a pot – flashback to when our Pop used to live with us. Ahh, sweetbreads, was there ever a more disappointing and misleading name for a type of food created? Sooo not what the name suggests, but I guess crap left over bits of a dead animal doesn't have the same ring to it (and yes, I know pig trotters aren't technically sweetbreads, but I classify them under the banner of food I will never willingly eat in my life).
But enough of my culinary bigotry, you all came here to be entertained. Let's see what I can do about that, eh?
Before plunging into the next chapter, thank you to everyone who voted on the spoiler/preview thought. I think I'll give it a go for a couple of chapters (giving people who don't want to read them plenty of warning so they don't have to) and just see how it goes. The other alternative could be instead of actual scenes, I could just post a little summary of the next chapter, like the show does, to tease upcoming scenes. I'm still in pondering mode over all of this. I'll just see where it all takes me… possibly back to doing no kind of tease at all. Lol
But in the meantime, I kind of left you guys hanging last chapter and I'm guessing you want to know what's happening with Roy. BTW, I enjoyed your guesses – seems like you're all as weird as I am… awesome! :D And so, here is the chapter…
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Claire glanced up at the clock on the wall and let out a sigh of relief. It was finally midnight and she could get out of here. Her job working in reception at the Barrett Hotel was boring and badly underpaid, but it did mean she had time to study, so there was that. She looked up as one of the residents of the hotel walked into the foyer. Claire smiled, quickly tucking a wayward strand of auburn hair behind her ears, and straightened her blouse. "Hi Felix," she called out as the young man headed towards the stairs. Felix stopped and looked down at her unblinkingly from the first step of the stairs. "Been out seeing the sights, have you?"
He blinked, once. "Yes."
Claire walked around the desk and over to the bottom of the stairs, still smiling up at him. "You know, if you're looking for a guide to the city, I was born here. I could show you around." Felix didn't say anything, just continued to stare at her. Claire fidgeted on the spot, suddenly feeling a little awkward. "You know, if you wanted me to. No big deal."
"Yes."
Claire grinned. Cute young men didn't normally frequent this particular hotel. Sometimes it paid off to take a chance. Besides, it had been two months since she'd gotten rid of that loser Craig. It was time to dip her toe in the dating pool again, and Felix seemed like a sweet guy. "Okay, awesome. I'll see you tomorrow I guess then, and we can talk about the kinds of places you might like to go."
"Okay."
Felix put his hand on the bannister, and went to continue up the stairs, but a flash of red caught Claire's gaze. "You've got blood on you," she noted in concern.
Felix looked down at his hand which was still resting on the bannister rail, taking in the red streak on his sleeve. "Nose bleed."
"Oh, that's no good," said Claire sympathetically. "Do you need me to get you anything?"
"No… thank you."
"Okay, well, sleep tight."
Felix smiled at her. "You too."
"Don't let the bedbugs bite." Claire bit her bottom lip. "We don't have bedbugs," she said hastily. Not anymore, anyways.
Felix didn't respond, just started up the stairs.
Claire turned around, and went to collect her bag and laptop. "Not too bad, Claire," she congratulated herself. "Pretty smooth… except for the bed bugs thing. That wasn't great." Still, she had a sort of date with a cute guy tomorrow… and hopefully Craig was currently being struck down by some kind of rampant painful testicular infection. A girl could only hope.
#
Oliver slipped his hand into Felicity's and smiled down at her lovingly as he helped her out of the car.
"You know, you really don't have to walk me to my door." Her returned smile told Oliver she was glad he was though.
"I pride myself on offering a full service date to all of my—" Oliver stopped sharply. Damn it, why did he have to bring up other women? What was wrong with him? "To you, only for you."
"It's fine, Oliver," said Felicity indulgently. "I know you dated other women. Trust me, I know."
Oliver was still a little worried about their earlier conversation. "But you also know I'm only interested in one woman now, don't you?" he pushed. Or ever again. Oliver kept that last tidbit to himself, not sure Felicity was quite ready to believe that from him yet.
"I'm not worried about you and other women," said Felicity easily, as they climbed the couple of stairs to her front porch. "I wouldn't be with you if I thought otherwise. I've told you that before."
"Good," said Oliver in relief, "because you have absolutely nothing to worry about when it comes to other women, less than nothing in fact."
"Less than nothing," mused Felicity. "That's a lot of nothing."
Oliver glanced her way, trying to make sure Felicity was as unconcerned as she was making out. She smiled back at him, and Oliver couldn't see anything other than trust on her gorgeous face. He relaxed the tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding. They were standing at her door now, but Oliver refused to let go of her hand.
"We made it safely to my door," said Felicity, smiling up at him. "Your duty as a courteous date is now discharged."
"I should really come in and check inside," said Oliver with great seriousness. "You know, just to be sure."
Felicity tilted her head. "I guess you could come in and make sure Spartacus hasn't taken over the place while I was out."
Oliver gave an eager nod of his head. "Absolutely. Wait, who's Spartacus again?"
"My giant squirrel with the toilet water fetish."
"Oh right, him."
Felicity arched an eyebrow. "You don't think he's real, do you?"
"Sweetheart, if you tell me you have a sumo squirrel who periodically breaks into your house and drinks from the toilet bowl… why would I have any reason to disbelieve you?"
Felicity dropped his hand, and folded her arms in front of her chest. "You think I'm imagining Spartacus' nighttime activities, don't you?"
"No," said Oliver quickly… too quickly.
"He's real."
"I'm not arguing with you."
"I'm not making it up."
"Again, still not arguing with you."
"Mm," said an unconvinced Felicity, "it's the way you're agreeing with me. It's deeply suspicious and has tones of patronizing indulgence."
"Felicity," said Oliver sincerely, "I'm completely onboard with Spartacus the toilet water swilling sumo squirrel." He placed his hand on his heart. "And to prove it, I insist you let me come in to make sure your house is safe from squirrels dripping toilet water everywhere."
"Squirrel, there is only one… even though he's big enough for it to be more like three squirrels taped together."
Oliver felt his world tilting a little as they discussed giant squirrels. He knew this sensation well by now. It was the feeling of him falling even more under Felicity's spell. She had him entranced, and every minute he spent with her had Oliver tumbling more into love with her. It was an amazing feeling and one he couldn't get enough of.
"Although what person in their right mind would tape squirrels together?" Felicity cocked her head. "I guess I answered my own question – you wouldn't be in your right mind."
"So, do I get to come in and do my squirrel sweep?" asked Oliver. He didn't want to leave her at the doorstep. He needed more of his fix of Felicity Smoak.
"Okay, as long as you don't hurt Spartacus if you do find him." Felicity turned and put her key in the lock.
Oliver came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I promise, no squirrels will be harmed in the making of this date."
Felicity relaxed back into him as she turned the doorknob. "That's good to know."
Oliver didn't let go of her as they walked into her house together. Instead, Oliver only loosened his embrace of Felicity briefly, so he could turn her around in his arms and kiss her deeply.
"Your method for checking for squirrels seems a little flawed," said Felicity breathlessly when Oliver finally broke the kiss.
"Don't question my squirrel checking methods," said Oliver, eyes not leaving her lips. "They're tried and tested."
"Really?"
"Yes, I'm greatly feared amongst the squirrel community."
Felicity giggled. "Do you swing into their trees and tell them they've failed the city?"
"When the occasion calls for it," said a straight faced Oliver.
Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck. "Wow, you really have got this hero business covered, haven't you?"
"So covered," agreed Oliver readily, moving in to kiss her again. Their kisses quickly spiraled out of control. His hands moved to Felicity's backside, and then Oliver was picking her up, enjoying the way she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. The delicate scent of Felicity which was always teasing his senses burst into full life. Oliver was giddy with the taste and smell of her. His hands tightened on her bottom, eager for more, but not trusting his legs quite then. Felicity had his head spinning, and the last thing he wanted to do was drop her. Without breaking the kiss he walked them over to the sofa and sat down. Felicity was now straddling his lap, returning his kisses eagerly. Oliver pushed the material of her skirt up, fingers sliding up under the thin material of her underwear. Felicity gave a little shudder, her core moving involuntarily against his growing hardness. "Felicity," he groaned achingly into their kiss.
Felicity's hands were buried in his hair, and she broke the kiss to look intently down at him. She held his gaze steadily, and then very slowly, very deliberately repeated the action.
"Oh God!" he gasped, amazed by the sharp flood of sensations throughout his entire body at such a small action. Oliver's hands tightened on Felicity's bare backside at the intense fissures of pleasure. He'd never waited this long for a woman, and his ability to keep himself in check was rapidly slipping, particularly if she did that wiggle thing again. Felicity seemed to be able to read his mind in that minute as she repeated that slow, grinding motion once more. Oliver drew in a strangled breath, and actually felt his eyes roll back in his head. He arched his head back against the sofa pillows, feeling a fine sweat break out on his forehead. With his eyes still closed, Oliver felt Felicity begin to slowly move up and down on him, her hips rolling in his hands. Oliver pressed her harder down onto him, but she resisted, keeping their contact provocatively light. He wanted to scream at her delicate teasing, not wanting it to end, but needing more at the same time.
Felicity's hot breath was in his ear. "I like making you sweat," she whispered in his ear.
An almost violent shudder wracked Oliver's body at her breathy confession. Their make out sessions were getting more intense, and Felicity seemed as caught up in the moment as he was right then. Oliver knew he shouldn't take advantage, but he couldn't help himself. He flipped Felicity around so she was lying down on the sofa, and Oliver immediately covered her body with his, grinding himself hard between her legs. The contact was so excruciatingly pleasurable, Oliver couldn't stop himself from repeating the action. Felicity let a little moan out from underneath him and Oliver was assaulted with the smell of her arousal. It was the headiest scent. He was instantly drunk on it, on her. Oliver knew Felicity wasn't a fan of his heightened olfactory senses post his run in with the XR-320 when it came to her, but Oliver loved it. It was another way to experience her, like another color in his Felicity rainbow and it was amazing.
Felicity's hands were pulling his shirt out from his trousers now, then moving up to rake her nails down his back. More fissures of pleasure assaulted his every nerve ending. Oliver buried his head in her neck, hungry mouth nibbling on the delicate flesh. His hand found its way up under her blouse, impatient fingers pushing Felicity's bra out of the way, and then his palm was cupping her naked flesh. Felicity cried out, arching her back into his touch, and Oliver almost came on the spot, like some ridiculous oversexed teenager. He willed himself to calm down but even so, he needed to see the treasure he'd just unearthed. Oliver wanted to see for himself the softness molding perfectly into his hand. His whole body was throbbing, and he could feel himself losing more and more control. "Felicity," he grunted raggedly, hungry mouth dragging its way across her flushed skin. "God, but I want you so much." The physical ache for her was beyond painful.
"Oliver," she whimpered, hand tightening his hair.
She wasn't stopping him, and Oliver was beyond stopping himself. He needed this too much, needed her too much. His lips skimmed across Felicity's pert nipple, making her give a hiss, tensing under him. Oliver could see the goose bumps rise on her skin in response to his light touch. His tongue came out, teasing the bud into greater tightness, causing another whimper from Felicity. Oliver was completely undone. His mouth found her nipple properly, tongue slavishly lapping at the peak, wanting to elicit more of those noises from Felicity. Oliver's heart was beating so loudly in his chest, blood roaring in his ears, nearly deafened by his own intense excitement. So much so he almost didn't hear Felicity's panted direction.
"Ph-phone," she said breathlessly. When Oliver didn't immediately respond, his attention only on exploring more of her delicious body. Felicity's hand tugged on his short hair. "Phone," she said more loudly.
Oliver reluctantly lifted his head, eyes glazed with desire. "What?" he mumbled.
"Your phone," said Felicity shakily, looking as overwhelmed as felt. "It's ringing."
Oliver blinked rapidly, and realized she was right. That incessant buzzing wasn't only in his ears, it was also in his pants' pocket. He made a guttural sound of annoyance, and grabbed for the intrusion with a hand which would rather have been doing something else right then. "What?" he snapped into the phone and then couldn't not be kissing Felicity anymore. He hungrily found her lips with his own, demanding entry into the sweetness he knew lay within.
"Oliver, it's Diggle, we've got a problem."
Oliver gave a frustrated groan, not really wanting to hear about problems right then. Was it really too much to ask for one night off?
#
Detective Lance sighed heavily and ran his hand through his graying hair. He needed a haircut and something to eat. And some sleep. Not necessarily in that order. He looked at the body lying in the gutter in front of him. "We got a time of death, Buck?" he grunted.
"It's fresh," said the forensic officer who was bent over the body. "No more than an hour. The blood has barely congealed."
The victim was wearing a red hoodie which was stained with a lot of darker red and pushed up to reveal some savage looking slice marks in his abdomen.
"The poor son of a bitch has been practically disemboweled," said Lance tightly.
"That isn't his only problem." Buck pushed back the hood of the man's sweats to reveal his bloodstained and mutilated face along with the gaping eye sockets that were minus eyes.
"Son of a bitch!" bit out Lance harshly.
Buck stood up. "Yeah, it's not pretty."
"I know him," ground out Lance.
"Hope he wasn't a close friend because the ending he got… it would have been not great."
Lance looked away and closed his eyes. Sometimes he hated this job.
"And not to be the guy with more bad news, but I've seen these mutilations before."
Lance opened his eyes and looked at the other man. "Don't say it."
"Sorry, Detective, they pay me to say it. I've seen pictures from the other morgues in Gotham and Central City who had bodies like this turn up. Either the Optometrist has a copycat or the guy has decided to check out the sights of our fair city."
"God damn it, Buck, I don't want to be dealing with a serial killer right now, copycat or not."
"Well, I don't want to be dealing with two ex-wives, but you know, shit happens."
Lance shook his head, and sighed heavily.
"Look on the bright side."
"There's a bright side?"
"Yeah, if you manage to solve this, you're one up on the flatfoots in Gotham and Central City. That's got to make you feel good, right?"
"And in the meantime, innocent people die," said Lance grimly.
Buck shrugged. "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
Lance just stared at him for that callous comment. "Ever think you may been doing your job for too long, Buck?"
"The thought has occurred." He shrugged again. "But what are you gonna do, right?"
Lance looked down at the mutilated corpse of the young man, jaw hardening. "Yeah, what are you gonna do?" he repeated harshly.
A/N: Okay, so yes, technically I've left you guys hanging again re: Roy's fate. But, on the upside – Olicity fun times… so, there is that, right? It says in the maniacal despot ruler's handbook that you should give your minions little rays of sunshine before torturing them mercilessly. Apparently it makes the torturing part more fun… for the despot, you understand, the minions, not so much.
Okay, this might be a good chapter to test that spoiler thing out on. Stop reading now if you don't want to know…
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"…We've lost contact with Roy."
Diggle's tone was concerned, but Oliver barely registered it. Felicity's tongue was in his mouth. Thought processes were not an option right then. Oliver broke their kiss for the shortest time possible. "Roy who?" he mumbled before reclaiming Felicity's mouth. He was addicted, couldn't get enough of her.
"Harper, Roy Harper. You remember, the kid with the big mouth, likes the color red a lot, currently dating your sister. Went into check on the dentist and haven't heard from him in the last half hour…"
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See, doesn't having spoilers make you feel so much better? Yeah, that's what I thought. 0;)