Author Notes: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! Here's an early Christmas gift from me to you! I'm not even going to try and excuse my updating schedule though I do hope you enjoy this chapter all the same. In other news, I got a piece of cover art made for the series that y'all may not have seen! You can check it out by viewing the first chapter of The Masks We Wear, see it here: post/184717531293 , or I've posted it in the end comments of this chapter.
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Chapter 31: Alright (Pray That He's Always)
Oliver was awoken for what felt like the umpteenth time during the night by a feeling of tight compression around his right arm. He frowned, disliking how heavy his eyelids felt, he doubted he was going to feel well-rested in the morning. The last time he'd been in hospital with a concussion a nurse had woken him up constantly to perform neurological and vital observations on him (which was likely what the nurse had come to do now). Blinking up at the ceiling, Oliver tried to recall how frequently the afternoon nurse said they'd need to round on him throughout the night, but nothing came to him. The desire to go back to sleep hung over his mind like a thick fog clouding out his every other thought.
As the tight vice-grip on his arm finally let up, Oliver flicked his gaze over to meet the nurse standing beside his bed. She smiled at him, offering him a brief hello before mentioning how she just needed to do some observations on him and ask him some questions. Oliver nodded and then the nurse popped a thermometer in his ear. The nurse's fingers gravitated to his wrist for a moment, no doubt feeling his pulse before the nurse removed her hand from him.
Then she asked him a bunch of questions, questions Oliver probably should have known off by heart now considering the frequency with which he'd been asked them today. But Oliver's mind was sluggish and unable to predict what the nurse was going to say so Oliver waited, listening to her questions in their entirety before answering. After a moment of pestering him with questions (inane questions, in Oliver's opinion), the nurse thanked him and then exited the room when Oliver told her that he didn't need anything.
Once he heard the door click shut, Oliver's eyes glanced over to the opposite side of his bed. The glow from the observations machine illuminated the room slightly, not enough so Oliver could see the far wall where he thought the clock was, but enough so that he could see Slade sat in an armchair that the man had pulled right up to the side of the bed. "Hey," Oliver greeted softly, allowing his lips to quirk upwards into the beginnings of a smile.
Pulling his right arm back under the bedsheets, Oliver folded his hands under his armpits, deeming it rather chilly in the room. Hospitals were always on the cool side, so Oliver appreciated the sheet, blanket, and duvet all on his bed.
"Hey," Slade responded, leaning towards the Omega slightly.
Slade was still sitting in the armchair he'd be in when he'd first arrived to visit the Omega though what was new was that he had a blanket draped over his lap. Oliver wondered if one of the nurses had shoved it onto Slade as he doubted the man had asked for it, not when Slade usually slept in only his boxers without even a sheet on.
Blue eyes watched attentively as Slade's eyes shifted from Oliver, over to the door, before his gaze fell back on the Omega. It looked to Oliver like Slade was clenching his jaw and his fingers were clasped tightly around the armchair. Slade looked to be positively bristling though this was hardly anything new for the man. Oliver's mind offered him nothing as to what may be agitating the Alpha though.
"Go back to sleep," Oliver prompted gently, though wasn't sure why he bothered speaking such words as he knew Slade didn't sleep well. Neither did he, some nights.
The Alpha screwed up his face, his gaze narrowing slightly. "Your scent's confusing her, your Beta spray's totally worn off, kid," Slade stated seemingly oblivious to Oliver's previous suggestion.
Drawing in a deep breath, Oliver was hardly surprised by the sweet smell of vanilla that tickled his nostrils alongside Slade's musky, amber-like scent. He wasn't sure when he'd stopped flinching at his unmasked scent, but he was quite happy with himself for getting used to the way he naturally smelled. Getting a whiff of himself no longer made his heart race, as it always had done when his mind was rife with thoughts about how the world might ostracise and judge him for what he was, something he had no control over.
Letting out a huff, Oliver stretched his legs out in bed and craned his head back into the pillow. "I don't care," Oliver spoke nonchalantly. "I'm sick of hiding, thanks to Isabel I can't hide any longer and really, why should I even continue to do so? Everyone I care about already knows the truth anyway. The PR team at Queen Consolidated will release my statement today, confirming my dynamic, and hopefully, that'll then quell the rumours. Besides, it's probably on my medical file somewhere that I'm an Omega or at the very least, that my dynamic's questionable. One of the nurses saw the Bonding mark anyway. They did a full physical assessment on me down in the emergency department, seems like they mainly wanted to check that my spine was alright."
"And what'd the nurse say?" Slade asked, raising a bow slightly.
"Ah, she asked me if the bite was consensual, how old it was, and just about how it was healing. She told me if it looks to be getting infected at any point, go see my general doctor," Oliver explained though he was confident that his Bonding mark would heal fine. The Amoxicillin-Clavulanic acid combination drug he was taking as a precaution should kill off any nasty bacteria that could have been in the wound bed.
The Alpha hummed.
A moment passed and then another as Oliver allowed his mind to wander. Beside him, Slade was silent, the man's hands folded in his lap now, and Oliver took that as a sign that Slade was feeling calmer than he had been a moment ago. Had hearing the nurse question the validity of Oliver's dynamic made Slade apprehensive? At that thought, Oliver cracked eyes open that he hadn't realised he'd shut.
Wait, how had Slade known that the nurse was talking about him. She hadn't said anything about his dynamic when she'd been in the room. Does Slade have enhanced hearing? He does… doesn't he. This probably shouldn't have surprised Oliver, but it did, made him somewhat uneasy not knowing the full extent of how much the Mirakuru had changed Slade. One of the reasons that Slade having a better sense of smell than him (which was likely also enhanced) had never struck him as odd was… well, his olfactory system was poor, which was something he could likely attribute to a life of constantly dousing himself in Beta-scented cologne. It also probably didn't help that, in an attempt to convincingly masquerade as a Beta, Oliver had also learnt to refrain from smelling people, at least, he never usually did so whilst in the company of others.
"Do you listen in on people's conversations all the time?" Oliver posed the question, uncaring that what he was insinuating Slade did was kind of weird.
The Alpha shrugged. "No, I usually listen to other things."
"Like what?"
"Your heartbeat."
Oliver imagined his eyes must have widened at the Alpha's words. "Okay…" Oliver let his voice trail off. Yeah, that's definitely creepy.
"Why?" Oliver asked flatly. Surely, there were more interesting things to listen to than the monotonous lub-dub of his heartbeat.
Leaning forward in his chair, Slade plonked his folded arms onto the bed beside Oliver before grinning. "It's often a good indication of your mood. When it's loud, I take notice, but when it's quiet—like now—I know you're doing alright." As the Alpha finished speaking, he lowered his chin onto the back of his hands. "That's how I knew you were stewing yesterday over the rumours about your dynamic, your heart musta been doing at least 120 beats per minute or something like that."
Oliver opened his mouth then shut it. What Slade said made sense and while it was sort of sweet that Slade was more acutely aware of his emotions than Oliver had ever expected the man to be, he also felt slightly uncomfortable knowing Slade could be listening in to what he was doing all the time. Like fuck, Slade didn't listen to him breathe, did he? It took Oliver a moment to decide better than to comment on what Slade had just told him.
"You got any other weird abilities that I don't know about?" Oliver questioned, lifting his head off the pillow slightly.
Slade said nothing, and after a couple seconds had passed, Oliver launched a follow-up query. "Can you see in the dark?" Because if Slade had a superhuman sense of smell and hearing, Oliver could only logically think that his sight must have also been improved by the Mirakuru.
"Somewhat," Slade said.
Oliver wondered how Slade could respond so casually as if what he was stating was the most normal thing in the world. The Omega mulled his next question over in his mind, sure he knew the answer to it as he would have noticed this about Slade, but he was curious all the same. "Your eyes don't glow in the dark, do they?"
A low growl rumbled up Slade's throat as the Alpha furrowed his brows. "No, I'm not a fuckin' animal," Slade barked, glaring at Oliver.
The Omega chuckled. "Sometimes you have me fooled, Slade."
Raising an arm out from beneath his warm cocoon of sheets and blankets, Oliver extended his hand up towards Slade. It only took a moment for Slade's face to soften, the Alpha letting out a sigh before he pressed the side of his temple up against Oliver's palm. Watching the man, Oliver waited until Slade had been leaning against his palm for a couple seconds before Oliver began to scratch his fingers up into Slade's hairline. He was still sometimes surprised by the almost plush softness of Slade's hair. It's probably another side effect of the Mirakuru, and as this thought passed through his mind, Oliver held his breath to refrain from laughing. Ivo had claimed the Mirakuru was the result of anabolic steroids and animal DNA being spliced together and if that was indeed the case, why wouldn't it cause a bunch of random, unexpected after-effects in addition to the desired traits like the accelerated regeneration and brute strength.
As the light from the observations machine next to his bed grew dim, likely from inactivity, Oliver shut his eyes. It was too dark for him to see much of anything now (which the Omega was mostly grateful for as this meant he couldn't see Slade anymore, and therefore he'd hopefully be less likely to concoct bizarre theories about what the side effects of the Mirakuru may or may not be). At that moment, Oliver decided he was going to attribute his weird train of thought to the concussion.
"Okay, now we're both going back to sleep," Oliver mused softly.
The only response he got from Slade was a quiet hum, and then there was a feeling of warmth pressed up against his cheek. Closing his eyes, Oliver continued to stroke Slade's hair for as long as he was able to until sleep overtook him once more.
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Hospitals were often a noisy bustle of activity. Slade had been hospitalised enough times in his life to know this, but he also hadn't had to step foot in one for a long time. Not since before he'd been deployed to Lian Yu, before the Mirakuru had made its home in his bones, in his every cell. And as such, Slade found the hospital to be rather loud, not unexpectedly so, but fucking grating on his eardrums all the same. Frankly, if it wasn't Oliver he was here for he would have long since nicked off outta the place. Though, loathe as Slade was to admit it, he could acknowledge that his concerns for Oliver might have already had him on edge throughout the night, which in turn was likely making him all the more hyper-aware of the noise in the building than he usually otherwise would be.
Slade couldn't help but think to himself that he might be growing soft with age, but as he looked at Oliver, meeting the Omega's bright, blue eyes, he realised he might be okay with that. So long as he got to keep Oliver, call him his, then Slade could put up with his heart becoming that little bit more tender… and he'd tolerate his ears being assaulted by the nurses' gossiping for a short while more. But, only for Oliver.
He and Oliver made small talk—both of them seemingly conscious of the fact that they shouldn't discuss yesterday and other matters pertaining to their vigilante night-life whilst in public—while Oliver started eating his breakfast. Though Oliver was still relatively quiet as he nibbled away at his ham and cheese omelette. Slade was attributing the Omega's silence to both the nausea and headache the kid had complained of upon waking. In spite of Slade's insistence that Oliver tell the nurse how he was feeling, Oliver had refused to do so, claiming he didn't want the doctor to change his mind about discharging him today. Slade was also eager to get himself and Oliver out of the hospital and that combined with the fact that he was pretty confident that the Omega was relatively stable was enough to make Slade refrain from piping up to the nurses that the kid was under the weather.
Glancing up at the clock on the wall, Slade noted it had just gone eight-thirty. One of the nurses had told them earlier that the doctor would be in to review and likely discharge Oliver when he did his eight o-clock rounds. Where is the prick, Slade lamented to himself. They were lounging in the chairs in the room when the same doctor that had reviewed Oliver last night walked into the room. Slade questioned what the poor bastard was doing back here at eight-thirty when it had barely been ten hours since he'd first reviewed Oliver.
"Hey, Doctor Lamb," Oliver greeted as the doctor came to stand in front of them.
Slade only half-listened as the doctor went over Oliver's discharge instructions. It was all fairly standard stuff. As per the doctor's orders, Oliver was supposed to take the rest of the week off work, not drive for 24 hours, abstain from heavy alcohol drinking and not do any strenuous exercise for a week, possibly two, depending on how he was feeling. As the doctor turned to face Slade, he straightened up slightly, noting the doctor's outstretched hand which held some papers.
"I'll give these to you. This covers everything we've just spoken about and some information on signs and symptoms to look out for post-concussion, as well as things that are normal when recovering from a concussion. Just monitor him over the next couple days and if you have any concerns, take him a GP or bring him back here. Other than that, he appears to be perfectly stable, though I do hope this is the last concussion I treat you for, Oliver."
As Slade took the pamphlets from the doctor, Oliver let out a chuckle.
"Ah, well, at least this time it wasn't my fault. I'd argue the first concussion I had wasn't my fault either," Oliver responded as he stood to his feet, suit jacket in hand.
Before Oliver could make another quip or the doctor could respond, Slade had jumped to his feet as well. "So, we free to go?"
The doctor nodded and as soon as he'd left, Slade ushered Oliver out of the hospital. He didn't think he'd ever dragged Oliver out of anywhere faster.
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Oliver leant his head against the car window, staring at the built-up traffic outside that was moving at a snail's pace. Slade was quiet and impassive behind the driver's wheel, having agreed to take him home, and Oliver wasn't really sure what to make of his silence. They had yet to discuss last night and so he wondered if that's what was bothering Slade.
The Omega noted that he felt slightly woozy. There was an ever-present aching present behind his forehead. Had he had any Advil on him he would have already taken some. He would have closed his eyes in an attempt to get some more sleep and to try and stave off his headache had he not remembered something at that moment. Laurel! She too had been admitted to the hospital last night.
Digging his phone out of his pocket, Oliver checked it for any messages. He'd received texts from multiple different people, scrolling down Oliver quickly found Laurel's. It read: Hey, are you okay? I'm so sorry about last night, I feel terrible about what I said to you, but I wanted to let you know that I accept you for who you are, even though I might not understand why you hid your dynamic from me. I wanted to talk to you more last night but Dad didn't want me to bother you too much. I'm hoping to get out of the hospital this morning. Let me know if you're still in and I'll come and see you if I haven't been discharged either.
Oliver smiled, the fellow Omega's words warming his heart. He was pleased to know that Laurel was okay and that he hadn't totally blown their relationship with his secrecy. He'd like to talk to her face-to-face again soon once he got a chance. As he started typing out a response to her, Oliver felt a gaze fall upon him.
"What are you doing?" Slade asked.
"Texting Laurel, letting her know that I'm okay and that I've been discharged."
When Slade said nothing, Oliver finished typing his message, sent it, then looked up at the man. Slade looked as stoic as always and Oliver couldn't tell what he was thinking. If past experience had taught him anything it's that Slade was likely either pissed right now or was feeling guilty that he'd gotten hurt. Maybe both.
"So are you gonna tell me what happened last night after I had Felicity tell you to go and save Laurel?"
The Alpha let out a heavy exhale, Oliver watching the noticeable rise and fall of his chest.
"I don't know whether to be concerned or disappointed over the fact that Daily was able to knock you over the head and concuss you," Slade stated sternly.
The accusatory tone of Slade's words made Oliver almost want to recoil. A part of him wanted to spit back at the man that unlike Slade he didn't have enhanced senses, durability, and all that other nonsense so of course, when he got hurt, he got fucking hurt. Staring at Slade's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel was enough to convince Oliver to keep his mouth shut. He was tempted to tell the man to lighten up, lest he break the wheel and ruin their ability to drive but Oliver thought better of this comment, knowing it likely wouldn't be appreciated and would only further agitate Slade.
"In my defence," Oliver started, keeping his voice as neutral as possible, "I honestly can't remember if the guys who kidnapped Laurel were wearing some form of scent concealment or not. If they were, well, scent neutraliser is capable of fooling people with better noses than mine."
Slade just stared at Oliver for a moment before rolling his shoulders and leaning back against his seat. "Fine, I suppose Daily was covered in scent neutraliser, wasn't he."
"Who's Daily?"
Slade tsked. "Piece of shit police officer. One of Sebastian's followers. Blood likely tasked him with killing Laurel though evidently not before having Daily try and lure you out."
Oliver shook his head. "I don't think Blood sent Daily to try and kill me. Why go to the trouble of trying to lure out the Arrow when he could have just killed me in Laurel's apartment?"
"Maybe to incriminate you, Blood never did seem too fond of your alter ego. He went to the trouble of trying to get Laurel in trouble with the police before going after her, didn't he?"
Letting out a huff, Oliver realised he was unable to argue with the man's logic, though he had no idea what to make of Sebastian's actions either. The Beta hadn't needed to try and murder Laurel, not when no one believed Laurel's claims about him. At least, no one likely would knowing Laurel had a substance abuse problem.
"Daily dead?" Oliver asked, almost sure he knew the answer.
Ahead of them, the traffic had begun to dissipate, and before long Oliver felt Slade put his foot on the accelerator. Moments later, they were off the motorway.
"Yep," Slade responded.
"Don't kill Sebastian, will you?" Oliver requested gingerly.
"And why the fuck not?" Slade posed the question back. "It's my fault you got hurt, my fault you ended up in the hospital, and my fault Blood even set his sights on you in the first place—"
"—Shut up!" Oliver shouted above Slade, cutting the Alpha off. "It was more my fault than yours, so stop blaming yourself."
There was a hint of surprise behind Slade's eyes—like he hadn't expected Oliver's vehemence—the Omega noticed as their gazes met before Slade's quickly focused back on the road. A sudden jolt wracked Oliver's body as he felt his seatbelt grow tight around his torso and jerk him back against his seat. His eyes darted forward and as he looked through the windshield Oliver realised they'd stopped at a red light, which told him Slade's likely just had to slam his foot on the brake to prevent them from careening through the intersection.
"Explain yourself, kid," Slade growled lowly, untangling his fingers from where they'd previously been holding the steering wheel in a tight vice-grip.
"Only if you don't get us both killed," Oliver glowered.
A moment of silence passed between them as Oliver waited for Slade to decide whether he was calm enough to continue their discussion. He could feel his heart hammering away behind his ribcage and his headache seemed to have spiked in intensity with his emotions. Previously it had been somewhat ignorable, but at present, it felt like a throbbing ache behind his eyes. Oliver was certain he'd need a nap once he got home. Frankly, he was sick and tired of him and Slade both blaming themselves for things that had happened long ago and were no longer within their ability to control. It was like this perpetual rollercoaster they both constantly seemed to find themselves on, and for now, Oliver had broken the cycle of treating himself like shit and was actually in a somewhat good headspace. He couldn't allow himself to be dragged down by Slade's negativity.
Once the traffic lights turned green and Slade drove them through the intersection, Oliver began to speak again in a level voice. "Sebastian didn't just decide out of nowhere to try and dispose of Laurel. Laurel went and unnerved him, but I upset her because I didn't tell her about my dynamic sooner. She's…" Oliver paused, remembering how he'd taken Laurel home from the police station last night. "Going through a lot right now but I don't think she would have been naive enough to confront Sebastian directly had I not upset her."
The Alpha remained silent, eyes fixated on the road ahead of him and so Oliver continued. "She suspects Blood was involved in convincing her boss to allow the police to search her apartment and I wouldn't be surprised if she's right as Blood was clearly looking to get her off his back. A couple weeks back she came to the Arrow convinced Sebastian had murdered his father, blamed his mother for it, then murdered her."
The Omega let out a sigh, stretching his legs out as far as he could in the car—which didn't turn out to be very far (stupid sports car)—to try and wring some of the tension out of his body. Laurel was, unfortunately, going to lose her job and Oliver imagined her father had probably chewed her out at least once over having taken his prescription pills in what was likely an attempt to manage her grief. "Sebastian's trying to clean up his loose ends, and while he was trying to dispose of Laurel, I was collateral damage. If he'd really wanted me dead, Daily had a perfect opportunity to kill me at Laurel's, and I doubt that he's stupid enough to think simply knocking me over the head would have killed me."
They're not far from the Queen Mansion now, Oliver noticed that they'd left the cityscape behind them, and outside the car were instead rows and rows of trees and the odd up-market house.
Slade shook his head. "And what would you have done had Blood killed Laurel?"
"Then I would have killed him," Oliver stated nonchalantly.
Slade laughed hollowly. "Ah, what the fuck, kid," Slade quipped as he sneered. "If somebody offs one of your old flames then you're allowed to kill them, but Blood puts my Omega in hospital and you expect me to stand down and do nothing?"
The Omega almost wanted to roll his eyes, he could see how Slade might think he was being hypocritical, but he also didn't think Slade fully understood his side of the argument. "Slade, I'm fine—" Oliver attempted to protest before Slade cut him off.
"—A concussion does not fit my definition of fine."
"Look, Slade," Oliver started, stressing the Alpha's name because it was rare that either he or Slade referred to each other by their actual names. They were always kid and old man to one another, so Oliver hoped by using the man's name he'd let him know he was serious. He waited for Slade's gaze to briefly flit over to him before it fell back on the road before he continued. "I know you've been champing at the bit wanting to get rid of Sebastian for a while now—" he was probably eager to get rid of Isabel, too, but Oliver didn't mention this, didn't draw attention to her, "—but if you kill him, you snuff out what little hope this city has left. The public, for whatever reason, like Sebastian, they genuinely seem to believe he'll help them and he's the only person who actually seems to care to want to run for mayor. The previous mayor was murdered and you can't murder the only current mayoral candidate. Just don't, for me please," Oliver attempted to plead with the man.
He couldn't take another Undertaking-like cataclysm shaking the city. The Undertaking had made him feel like a failure, and he'd hated himself, despised his mother and father, too, for playing a part in Malcolm Merlyn's grand scheme. Oliver also still felt partially responsible for the way the city operated considering he too was a one-percenter who likely didn't do enough to help the rest of this city's people. He couldn't allow his or Slade's grips with Sebastian to get in the way of preserving the city's happiness.
Slade tsked. "If you're so concerned about the fate of this shithole and the mayor instilling hope in people, why don't you run for the position?" Slade asked, and his face had softened in such a way that Oliver thought Slade was genuinely curious about the answer.
Oliver chuckled softly at the prospect of him running for mayor. What a joke. Nobody would ever vote for him, and it's not like Oliver could ever likely even run, even if he wanted to, as he was still fighting a war of attrition with Isabel at Queen Consolidated. He hoped Isabel would eventually just get bored once she realised she couldn't usurp him and then hopefully she'd leave the company but somehow Oliver doubted this would happen anytime soon.
"That's beside the point, I still have the company and Isabel to worry about, no thanks to you, so I can't be taking on anything else at this point. Speaking of which, don't you have any dirt on Sebastian and Isabel, anything?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because Isabel tried to blackmail me into giving her control of the company, and if you did have something noteworthy on her then maybe I could threaten her into backing away from Queen Consolidated," Oliver explained.
Slade said nothing and Oliver wondered what the man was thinking about. Surely Slade had something on them. Considering Slade was vindictive enough to spend months, likely over a year, planning his revenge on him there's no way Slade wouldn't have been thorough in evaluating and sussing out who he was working with.
After a moment had passed, Slade furrowed his brow.
"You have nothing, nothing at all?" Oliver gaped.
"I, ah," Slade started before running a hand down over his face. "I don't know, my mind doesn't go that far back, kid."
"That's… unfortunate," Oliver sighed, squirming slightly in his seat at the prospect of being stuck with Isabel as a partner at Queen Consolidated forever.
"I didn't say I have nothing," Slade reaffirmed, his dark gaze catching Oliver's to which the Omega stilled at. "I'm not sure at this stage what I have, and I'd frankly rather not go back through things that I've purposefully buried. There are too many painful reminders I already have to live with, I don't want to go looking for more reasons to hate myself. You're more than welcome to look through what I've got though."
Oliver didn't need to question what the Alpha was referring to when he mentioned painful reminders. Isabel and Sebastian were reminders of the person Slade was, of his hatred for Oliver that had since dimmed but the reminders of what Slade had been planning, what he'd done, remained all the same.
"What do you have?" Oliver asked.
Slade shrugged. "Files mainly, probably a couple USBs worth. I was thorough, I know that much."
"When you're ready, if you want to get those to me, I'll look through them," Oliver mentioned before falling quiet.
When his phone vibrated in his hand and Oliver turned it over to look at it, he realised he'd only texted Laurel back and not everyone else in his family who were also likely worried about him.
A text message from his mom read: Are you alright? Do you need Mr Diggle to bring you home or is Slade bringing you back?
Texting his mom back, Oliver let her know that he was nearly home. Then, Oliver went back to questioning his Alpha about the night prior.
By the time Slade had pulled the car up in front of the Queen Mansion, and the guards out the front had opened the gate allowing them to drive through onto the property, he and Slade had finished discussing everything the Omega wanted to.
"You didn't say anything to Laurel or my family last night, did you?" Oliver asked, wanting to know what to expect when his mother saw him and Slade together.
The Mansion loomed before them as Slade pulled the car to a halt in front of the fountain. Oliver remained seated though, in no hurry to get out of the car while he and Slade were talking.
"Nope. I ain't said jack." The Alpha's eyes glanced down at his lap before Slade laughed.
"What?" Oliver asked.
"Though you did tell your mother and sister that you suck cock."
"What?" Oliver gaped, louder this time. "Explain!"
The Alpha continued to chuckle. "The doctor came in and asked how your head was and you told him 'I've never had any complaints' and I can attest to that."
Oliver deflated in his car, crossing his arms over his chest. He's not sure if Slade had made up what he'd just said, but Oliver could vaguely remember saying something like that. "Why the hell would I say that?" Oliver huffed, leaning his head back against the headrest.
"Blame the concussion," Slade chimed in with a smirk.
Falling quiet, Oliver looked out the window and noticed one of the house staff opening up the front door.
"I wouldn't be all that embarrassed if I were you, kid," Slade started and Oliver chanced a glance back at him. "Your mum and sis didn't seem to bat an eyelid at your remark. It's not like they both probably haven't sucked a dick either."
At that moment, Oliver began to insistently wave a hand in Slade's direction. "Shut the fuck up, don't you see my mom is right there," Oliver hissed, tilted his head in the direction of the Queen Mansion where his mom was conversing with one of the house staff.
As his mother's gaze fell upon the car, Oliver was thankful that the windows on Slade's Lamborghini were tinted dark. She likely couldn't see him and Oliver appreciated this as he wasn't sure at the moment if his face had flushed beet red. Flipping down the sun visor, Oliver checked his face in the mirror on the back of it pleasantly surprised that his face wasn't flushed.
"What, she too got super hearing we got to worry about?" Slade queried as Oliver put the sun visor back up.
"This is exactly why I don't wanna bring you home to my family," Oliver stated, giving the Alpha a glare.
Slade chuckled. "I think it's too late for that, kid."
"Come on, let's get this over with," Oliver sighed as his hand came up to rest on the door handle. Before he could pull on it, he felt Slade's hand encircle his free wrist. Turning back to face Slade, Oliver watched as Slade pulled the black and green checkered bandana away from his neck.
"I think this is near on overdue to go back to you," Slade remarked, outstretching his hand towards Oliver.
"We're sticking with three days then?" Oliver queried, remembering the frequency with which he and Slade had alternated between wearing the Alpha's bandana on the island.
Slade nodded. "Old habits die hard after all."
Taking the bandana from Slade, Oliver stuffed it into his front pocket.
As Oliver exited the car and began walking up to the mansion, Slade quickly fell into step beside him. His eyes flicked downwards when he felt the back of Slade's palm brush against his own. Looking up at the man, Oliver was pleased to see the collar of Slade's leather jacket completely hid the Bonding mark that was just off his neck. After they'd climbed up the short flight of stairs to the front door, his mother pulled him into a hug.
"Oh, Oliver, are you alright, dear?" his mother cooed.
"I'm alright, mom," Oliver reassured, silently a little annoyed by the hint of worry in her voice.
After his mother had released him from her embrace, her gaze fell on Slade.
"Thank you for bringing him home Slade, and for staying with him last night."
"Ah, it was no problem Mrs Queen," Slade stated, inclining his head forwards slightly.
Oliver had to refrain from gawking at what looked like Slade showing his mother respect.
Slade extended a hand revealing the papers the doctor had given. "Here's Oliver's discharge instructions, it mainly just says to keep an eye on him for the next couple days, and if it looks like he's going downhill, take him to a doctor or back to the hospital."
"Thank you, I'll have a read of these," Moira mentioned as she took the papers from Slade. "And please, you can call me Moira."
"Won't you come in?" Moira asked, gesturing past the threshold of the doorway.
Slade shook his head. "I'd better not, I'd hate to intrude and I think Oliver should have a laydown, he didn't sleep very well last night."
"Oh," Moira let out and Oliver couldn't help but think his mother sounded positively deflated. "Surely, you'll come round for dinner sometime, won't you?"
"Of course," Slade said with a nod. "Better give Oliver some time to rest up for it though."
"How about Friday night then?" Moira asked. "Six o'clock?"
Damn, that's close, Oliver thought to himself. Closer than Oliver would have liked for Slade to be having dinner with his family as he still hadn't thought up a convincing lie to explain how he and Slade had met yet. Frankly, he didn't think he was capable of fabricating a convincing tale in his current state. He wanted to shoot Slade a glare to tell him no, but he wasn't able to do so without his mother noticing. All he could do was watch as Slade uttered the words he so loathed to hear.
"Certainly, so long as it's alright with, Oliver," Slade agreed with a smile.
His mother turned to him, fixing him with a look that made Oliver think she'd scold him for turning a guest away.
"That'll be fine."
"Wonderful," Moira mused.
"Well, I'd better get going and let Oliver have a sleep," the Alpha said before turning to Oliver. "You get some rest, kid. I'll see you both another time."
Oliver watched as Slade walked back to his car and got into it.
"Slade seems quite nice," his mother muses to him once Slade's car has driven off their property.
Well, that's one word to describe Slade, Oliver thought to himself, but he could think of plenty more appropriate words that would describe the man—like abrasive, overbearing, dickhead, and so on and so forth. Then maybe after he'd gone down the list of all the negative words he'd use to describe Slade, then he'd describe Slade as 'nice'. Though Oliver would admit Slade had seemed… more polite than he'd expected the man to be speaking to his mother a moment ago. However, Oliver couldn't and didn't expect Slade to wear a mask in front of his family forever—and that's definitely what that polite show in front of his mother was—a mask. A convincing one and Oliver questioned where and why Slade had ever decided to perfect such a gentlemanly facade.
"Ah, yeah he is," Oliver responded once he'd pulled himself from his thoughts.
His mother's aquamarine coloured eyes met his own.
"Does he treat you right?"
Yes, mom, was what Oliver felt like groaning though he hesitated before speaking, conscious of how he was shaping his mother's view of his Alpha.
"The best actually."
"That's good," his mother beamed.
As he turned to enter the house, Oliver remembered that Doctor Lamb wanted him to take the rest of the week off work. "Ah, I forgot I'd better ring Isabel," Oliver stated, fingers sliding into his pocket to reach for his phone.
"No need," Moira said, placing a hand over Oliver's. "I've taken care of everything. I don't need that horrible woman trying to pressure you to come into work when you have a concussion. Now if what Slade's said is true, and you do look a little weary, you'd best be off to bed for a little bit. I'll have Raisa come and wake you before lunch if that's okay with you."
Oliver frowned slightly, he didn't want Isabel thinking he needed his mom to fight his battles for him though he quickly softened his facial expression, not wanting his mom to believe he was mad at her. Nodding, Oliver headed inside, almost expecting his mom to chaperone him to his room if he didn't immediately head there himself.
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It was around lunchtime when Oliver was awoken by a knock on his door. Sitting up from where he'd been asleep on top of his duvet, not having bothered to get under the sheets or even get changed when he got home, Oliver's eyes fell on the door.
"Come in," Oliver called out.
As the door opened inwards slightly, Raisa poked her head into his room. "Oh, Mr Oliver, you're awake," came Raisa's soft voice. The female Omega stepped into the room, smoothing out a couple wrinkles in her apron before coming to a halt in front of Oliver's bed. "Lunch will be up in a moment."
"Thanks, Raisa," Oliver acknowledged as he swung his legs off the bed and climbed to his feet. He scratched his fingers over the side of his neck and pulled the fabric of his shirt off the bite wound on his shoulder. The mark was starting to sting, likely because he'd forgotten to take any painkillers before going for a nap. He felt rested though. Dropping his arm down by his side, Oliver decided he'd take some Advil before he left his room. Later on, he'd have to work out what he could actually wear that hid his Bonding mark.
"Your mother also wanted to speak to you, she's in the east living room at the moment," Raisa added.
Oliver thanked her, then after she'd left glanced at his phone. His mobile was full of messages, though at a glance they were all from his friends mainly wanting to know how he was. Vowing to respond to them once he'd sat down to eat, Oliver pocketed his phone and swallowed some Advil with a swig of water before heading downstairs.
He had a brief run-in with his mother on the way to the living room. She told him that Laurel had just rung and that she was coming over to check on him as Oliver hadn't been responding to his texts or calls. Oliver silently cursed himself for sleeping through his phone ringing.
Moira then mentioned how she was very happy to see that Oliver was comfortable enough to walk around without any form of scent concealment on. "I wasn't sure if you'd ever let me smell your natural scent," was one of her comments to him. She'd followed that up by telling him how she was proud of him for finally being comfortable enough in his own skin to be open about his dynamic to the world.
At that, Oliver had screwed up his face slightly, unable to remember what statement he'd authorised the PR team at Queen Consolidated to release on his behalf. Regardless of what he'd said, Oliver was sure he'd be hearing his statement over and over again from news outlets soon enough.
Oliver was silent before he remembered something. Re-meeting his mother's gaze, Oliver straightened up and rolled his shoulders back. "You need to talk to Thea."
"About what?" his mother asked.
Oliver's eyes darted around the room, deeming they're likely out of earshot of anyone else before he lowered his voice and inched in closer towards her. "About Malcolm."
His mother pulled back from him slightly and she turned her head away from him in a way that made Oliver think she disagreed with him. "Oliver, surely that can wait. Thea's just gotten her brother out of hospital—"
"I'm fine," Oliver stressed the words. "And that, that doesn't matter. I have been honest with Thea, told her the truth about my dynamic before she found out about it from the media and at a time like this when the media is digging around looking for answers about my parentage and my dynamic, who's to say they won't start looking into Thea's?"
Oliver realised he was almost threatening his mother though she too had to realise that there was a possibility that the media could somehow stumble upon the truth before Moira could even say something to her own daughter. The Omega hoped beyond all else that his mother had covered her tracks and that nobody else knew of Thea's parentage.
"Oliver, no one knows about this, and no one is going to find out about it."
"Okay, fine, just… we need to talk to her before Friday, or I'm calling off dinner with Slade," Oliver affirmed, folding his arms over his chest.
"Oliver! You're not being reasonable," Moira urged, shaking her head slightly.
"I have been under scrutiny all week and I'm not going to bring Slade over and let you scrutinise me more if you're not going to be honest with Thea."
His mother sighed, her eyes drifting to the floor before she re-met his gaze, brushing a stray lock of hair that had fallen onto her face back behind her ear.
"Alright, not tonight though. Let me at least give Thea the good news that Slade's agreed to have dinner with us Friday night before I go and upend her entire world."
After she'd finished speaking, Moira quickly turned from him and disappeared elsewhere into the house.
Not even half an hour later, Oliver was sat on the couch nibbling away at a grilled chicken and salad sandwich. He'd seen his sister early in passing when she'd bounded into the living room and given him a hug. Her face was ecstatic as she'd mentioned how Slade was going to be dining with them Friday night. Thea then added how she'd be taking that night off work. They talked for a moment before she disappeared back to bed, and seeing as she worked night-shift and probably went to bed at around six Oliver didn't expect her to resurface until around two.
Oliver was staring somewhat absent-mindedly at the TV when the sound of a nearby door opening drew his attention. He kept his eyes trained on the archway that led out into the foyer though his nose quickly notified him as to who was coming his way before they'd walked into the lounge room.
Getting to his feet, Oliver placed his half-eaten sandwich back on a plate on a table, as Laurel strolled into the room. "Laurel," Oliver greeted, noticing how the Omega female had halted in her tracks once their eyes met.
"Ollie!" Laurel exclaimed as she ran forward and pulled him into an embrace.
Steadying his feet beneath himself, Oliver was aware of how Laurel was putting most of her weight on him—like she used to do, years ago. Wrapping his arms around her, Oliver took a quick whiff of the Omega, curious as to if anyone else's scents lingered on Laurel though Oliver couldn't detect any. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck and Oliver could hear her inhale sharply, no doubt she was also scenting him. After a moment, they pulled back from one another.
"Statement's out," Laurel says.
"I heard, though I actually can't remember what I said," Oliver responded, amusement trickling into his voice.
"You're not regretting this, are you?" Laurel asked, tilting her head to one side slightly.
"No, no. Just hoping I didn't make a fool out of myself with what I said."
"I don't think you did."
"Thanks."
Laurel's hand slips into her bag and she fumbles around for a moment before withdrawing her phone. Her fingernails tap lightly across its screen before she passes him the device.
Looking down at her mobile, Oliver found himself looking at a news article. He ignored the majority of the article, like his picture in the corner and the video, in favour of surveying the section of the report where they'd directly quoted him. He scanned further up the article for context, and then he started reading what appeared to be a transcript of the news video.
Breaking news, today at approximately 1130 a.m. Oliver Queen, the current head of Queen Consolidated, released a statement presumably in response to the recent rumours going around about his dynamics. You may have heard on our program before that news outlets once more have started to ask 'is the son of the late Alpha Robert Queen and Omega Moira Queen really, in fact, a Beta'? Thea Queen, the subject's younger sibling, is, in fact, an Alpha as far as we know. Now, if you've studied genomes at all in your life, you'd know that any children of an Omega dam—depending on the genomes of the damn—can only be Omegas and Betas, Omegas and Alphas, or purely Omegas. If Thea queen's dynamic is to be believed, one has to question what is Oliver's dynamic. Is this a rare instance of the chromosomes that dictate dynamic not manifesting themselves, making him effectively a Beta, or is Mr Queen hiding something? Here's Mr Queen's statement, it reads:
I'd like to address the recent rumours about my dynamic. The truth is, due to personal reasons, I've been living as a Beta for most of my life though circumstances have since changed from when I first decided to hide my dynamic and I'm now comfortable admitting I'm an Omega. In hindsight, I don't agree with my decision to keep my dynamic private for as long as I have. I realise in doing I have inadvertently been supportive of a culture that still persists in our society today, wherein young Omegas are told that they should conceal their dynamic for fear of the world and its inhabitants might do to them. The idea that anyone should feel the need to hide their dynamic for any reason other than their own choice needs to be abolished. My family and loved ones all appreciate me for who I am, and for anyone else out there who's also hiding their dynamic, love yourself, and I hope at the very least you'll let your loved ones know the true you before you hopefully find the strength to share your truth with the rest of us.
Oliver's lips quirked upwards into the beginnings of a smile as he handed Laurel's mobile back to her and she pocketed it. Yes, he was happy with what he'd said.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Oliver rocked back and forth on his feet slightly, apprehension creeping into his body. "So, ah, you gonna ask why I decided to hide it for so long?"
As Laurel's eyes remet his, the Omega female shook her head. "I would, but I don't feel I really have a right to after the way I spoke to you the other day, and I still feel pretty bad that you got hurt yesterday."
Shaking his head, Oliver sat on the couch, patting the space next to him. Laurel hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide with uncertainty before she took a seat next to him, her shoulder touching his. They sat on the couch for a while, ignoring the TV in the background in favour of talking as Oliver opened up to Laurel. Raisa came into the room shortly after Laurel's sat down and placed a cup of tea and some savoury snacks on the table—Laurel's favourites which of course the Omega maid had remembered after all these years. It took him a while to get everything out in the open, but Oliver told Laurel virtually the same things he'd said to Thea the other day. He spoke of his father's disapproval (which was something not even Oliver fully understood), his fear of being rejected by his friends, of being taken advantage of, and then briefly touched on how the island had made him apprehensive of the world for different reasons, which ultimately had resulted in him wanting to continue hiding.
Laurel listened to everything he said, her hand gently coming to rest upon his own. Oliver answered her questions as best as he could, and once she seemed to be satisfied with his responses, she began to talk about herself. She'd lost her job as the assistant district attorney, the drugs in her apartment were plenty enough evidence to make sure of that. Oliver was silent as she spoke, knowing better than to ask why she'd started taking drugs as he knew why—to try and numb the pain. He stroked his thumb over her hand and apologised for not being there for her, but Laurel told him that it's alright, that he was busy with his own life, but Oliver didn't feel that way. She mentioned how her dad wanted to send her to rehab, now that he'd taken all her pills off her, and Oliver could only laugh at that though he is quick to follow up and tell the Omega that all his parents' attempts to send him to rehab had failed. He had no advice for detoxing, as he'd gone through withdrawals on the island, but he told her to go see her doctor before she and her father make any decisions. Briefly, Oliver's wondered if Laurel might have to take Methadone.
Once they'd started to make small talk, having seemingly put all their baggage out in the open with one another, Oliver realised Laurel hadn't mentioned Sebastian or her theories on him which made Oliver think maybe she was starting to doubt her suspicions of him. She was right, though Oliver didn't intend to tell her this lest she ask how he knew her accusations were indeed correct.
When the clock struck three, Laurel let him know that she needed to leave, stating how her father had told her he was going to send someone over to her apartment to check that she was home by four. Oliver walked her to the door and they hugged again, this time Laurel holding him for a little longer than before. When she pulled back at him, she wrinkled her nose slightly.
"I take it that musky quality to your scent isn't you?" she asked before relaxing her expression.
"Ah, no, that's—boyfriend," Oliver explained, not sure how he expected Laurel to take the news that he was seeing someone. He didn't think Laurel had moved on from Tommy yet.
Laurel smiled, and Oliver hoped it was a genuine smile as otherwise, it was a convincing mask.
"Ah, so that's who the stranger was that visited you in hospital last night."
Oliver nodded and then Laurel laughs.
"If you ask me, he looks a little rough around the edges for you, Ollie."
Resisting the urge to sigh, Oliver said goodbye to Laurel before she walked to the cab that was waiting outside the mansion. He was pretty sure Laurel had just implied he was fragile, or something that was a close approximation to that.
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Oliver used his free time to be productive but not before liaising with Felicity and Diggle, telling them that he felt like he was under house arrest. What with the house staff and his mother checking on him frequently. Felicity had sent him a brief text message back, which stated that Detective Lance wanted to talk to him about his new partner—said partner being Slade. Then, Felicity had asked him if Oliver wanted to call the man to which he responded no to. He'd prefer to catch up with Lance in person so Felicity had just said she'd let Lance know he was busy.
He texted Slade, letting the man know that he was okay, and when the man hadn't responded within half an hour, Oliver had begun to question if the man was annoyed with him. However, Oliver didn't allow himself to indulge in that train of thought for very much as if Slade was being the vigilante for him, Slade was likely asleep during the day, and after the poor night's sleep they'd both gotten last night, Oliver could hardly be surprised if the man had gone for a nap. After he'd finished checking in with his friends, Oliver decided to look over some of the paperwork he'd brought home from work, vowing to bring his business plans up to his mother. In particular, he wanted her opinion on whether she thought his plans for the company to invest in pharmaceuticals were sustainable or not.
Once Oliver was sick of looking at paperwork, he rummaged through his walk-in wardrobe, trying on a variety of different shirts before re-organising his closet. He ended up sorting his shirts so that the ones he was confident would cover the Bonding mark just off the side of his neck were at the front of his wardrobe. Maybe when the mark had healed and was no longer obviously fresh would Oliver then be more comfortable showing it off. But for the moment, Oliver was not keen to have a conversation with either his friends or family about just how intimate he and Slade were.
After he'd rearranged his wardrobe, Oliver found his eyes travelling to the latex boots Slade had gifted him. They were discreetly tucked in the corner, hidden behind some of his suit jackets. He'd have to find another opportunity to wear them as Slade's Valentine's dinner that he'd planned for them had taken an unfortunate turn for the worst. As he stared at the boots, Oliver was reminded of something, something he needed to do. Hopping onto his laptop, Oliver searched around online for what he was looking for before making a couple purchases, paying extra to have them delivered by tomorrow.
Then, Oliver took a shower before finding an appropriate sleeping shirt to wear that covered up his Bonding mark. It had a narrow neck hole and Oliver figured the shirt was something he'd grown out of but it would serve its intended purpose.
As he sat on his bed, Oliver glanced down at his phone and realised Slade still hadn't texted him back. It had just gone seven so Slade would likely be down at Verdant now, gearing up to go out on patrol. Oliver absentmindedly found himself fiddling with the bandana he'd fastened around his neck after he'd had a shower. Breathing in deeply, Oliver was unsurprised to find the smell of musky amber tickling his nostrils. He wondered if Slade ever got lonely going out as the vigilante at night. If someone had asked Oliver that same question he would have said no, he never got lonely whilst he was out as the Arrow, but that's because he had his mission preoccupying his mind. Whereas Slade was out fighting crime for him and no doubt doing so reminded him of Oliver.
Glancing down at his mobile once more, Oliver texted Slade stating that he appreciated everything the man did for him and then told Slade not to do anything stupid. Pocketing his phone, Oliver made sure the bandana was fastened tightly around his neck before gathering his paperwork and heading downstairs to seek out his mother. If his mother mentioned the bandana, well, he'd just tell her the truth as it's not like she and his father hadn't shared articles of clothing before.
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There was a knife in his kitchen wall, Sebastian noticed when he arrived home. He'd just walked in through his front door and it was immediately obvious, jammed into the wall at eye level. Sebastian felt his pulse quicken and it felt like his heart had lodged itself in his throat as his eyes darted around the room. After a moment of frantically looking around the place, Sebastian realised he could find no such signs that his house had been broken into. Hell, even his front door had been locked when he'd arrived.
The desire to turn tail, run back outside and jump in his car was strong, but there was a sheet of paper lodged under the knife in the wall. Morbid curiosity compelled him to know what the note said, and Sebastian supposed, if someone had gone to all the trouble of breaking into his house (though how they had, he wasn't sure), they likely also had ample time and resources to come and attack him if they so wanted to. The knife—Sebastian recognised it as one of the larger ones from the rectangle block sat in the corner of the room by the toaster. Edging forwards gingerly into the kitchen, Sebastian squinted in the dark until he could make out the dark writing on the piece of paper. It looked like it had been written in permanent marker.
It read: You're dead if you touch him again.
What the hell is this, Sebastian baulked taking a step back. He spun around when he felt his back hit something only to find himself facing the wall. The Beta huffed, his hands falling onto his knees as he looked down at the floor. Is this Wilson's doing? If it was, Sebastian wasn't sure if he should ring the police or not. Wilson could be erratic at times, and Sebastian was sure this message, regardless of who it was from, was intended for his eyes only. Nevertheless, Sebastian wasn't sure what he'd done to warrant having someone send him such a warning. He decided he'd definitely better ring Isabel, just in case this was Wilson's doing.
After a moment of waiting for his previously erratic breathing and heart-rate to steady, Sebastian decided against removing the knife from the wall. If he did decide to call the police, he'd figured he'd best leave things the way he found them.
Walking into his pitch-black bedroom, Sebastian figured he'd best take a shower and distance himself from the kitchen for a little while. Hopefully, some hot water would clear his head and help him figure out the best way to go about managing the situation. For a moment, he fumbled for the light switch on the wall before finally finding it and flicking it on.
"Jesus!" Sebastian shrieked as light illuminated the room.
Slade Wilson was sitting on his bed, dressed in tactical gear, though Sebastian hardly noticed whatever guns in holsters were on the Alpha's possession as there was a fucking sword lying across Wilson's lap.
"Your sense of smell is poor," Slade stated, brow furrowed. Picking up the sharpening stone he'd left next to him on the bed, Slade began to run the material down over the surface of his blade over and over again, never once bothering to glance up at Sebastian. He'd started honing his katana a couple minutes ago though had stopped when he heard the alderman's car pull up outside. When he'd picked his blade up this evening, he'd noticed a couple notches in it. No doubt they'd been created when he'd run Daily through. Bones often chipped the blade and Slade knew he likely would have hit Daily's ribcage shoving his katana into the man.
As the Alpha continued attending to his weapon, Sebastian started breathing heavily. He couldn't find any trace of Wilson's scent in the room which lead him to believe that the Alpha must have been wearing some form of scent concealment. Traipsing over to his drawers, Sebastian steadied himself against the furniture and tried to slow his breathing. He wasn't sure how long had passed, minutes or perhaps even hours, but after a while of listening to the monotonous sound of Wilson sharpening his blade, Sebastian determined he was in no imminent danger of getting murdered.
Turning around, Sebastian studied the man. Wilson's eyes flicked up to him, captured his gaze and that's new—Sebastian noticed—eyes. The Alpha had eyes, not just an eye. Sebastian couldn't remember if he'd first noticed it when Isabel had sent him that photo of Wilson and Queen together but he definitely noticed it now, the absence of Wilson's eyepatch. He wondered why the man had ever bothered wearing an eyepatch in the first place, if there was nothing wrong with his right retina, though Sebastian wouldn't pretend to understand Wilson. He was mercurial, seemingly despising Queen one minute and then being protective of him the next. And although Sebastian had never seen it with his own eyes, he knew Wilson had weird powers, that something had been done to him to make him more than human (and less so too, in Sebastian's opinion). His blood was tainted and said tainted blood had eventually been successfully passed on to Brother Cyrus. Though Cyrus's enhanced strength and durability—that Sebastian had seen with his own eyes—hadn't prevented Wilson from killing him. Sebastian had long since stopped mourning his fellow brother's death.
It was at that moment that a dark thought crept to the forefront of Sebastian's mind. Had he gotten Daily killed? The man hadn't texted him since last night when he'd stated that he'd kidnapped Miss Lance from her apartment and that he'd dispose of her. That had been all Sebastian had wanted to hear and so he hadn't thought anything of the man's silence after that. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears at the thought that he'd led Daily to his demise.
After a moment of glancing down at his palms sat atop his wooden dresser, Sebastian managed to find his voice again, because if Wilson was just here to kill him, he'd already be dead, right? Right?
"H-H-How did you get in?" Sebastian managed to splutter out, not sure if he should be asking this question or not but his front door had been locked when he'd come in. Though he had also yet to inspect all the windows in the house for signs of a break-in.
The Alpha tsked, never ceasing in honing his blade. "You forget who raised you up out of the depths of obscurity so you could become Starling's favourite son. I've always had a key to this place."
You're predictable, you still live here, Slade seethed to himself. Even come home at the same time too. Pocketing his sharpening stone, Slade stopped to admire his handiwork, pleased that he'd managed to remove the imperfections from his sword. The steel of the blade shone and Slade would have thought it good as new if not for the faint smell of blood that lingered on it. He'd washed it but Daily's scent still lingered on it.
"Daily's dead, I hope you're proud of that alderman. Now," Slade glowered, standing up off the bed. With a flick of his wrist he had the blade facing the ground, the tip of it ever so slightly kissing the carpet as he began to walk towards Sebastian.
He watched as Sebastian's expression contorted into one of fear, the Beta inching back away from him though the Beta didn't get very far before his back was pressed up against a wall. Sebastian natural scent was muted—the same applied with all Betas—, though the smell of sweat permeated the air, along with a slick, oil-like smell that Slade recognised as fear. Good, Slade's mind hissed to him as he listened to the thundering of the Beta's heart.
"I do apologise, I'm not known for my subtlety. I was just going to leave you a warning, but I'm getting rather sick of doing that," Slade explained, his voice low and stern as he prowled towards Sebastian. He slammed his free hand into the door, closing it, not that the Beta would have been able to run away from him regardless.
"W-Wait, wait, what's-s this all about?" Sebastian stammered out his words as he pushed himself further into the bedroom. Shimming along the wall, Sebastian side-stepped around his dressing table, aware of the fact that he was just going to hit another wall in a moment but wanting some distance between himself and Wilson all the same. "You told me to get close to Miss Lance? Surely you don't care if anything's happened to her?"
"I don't!" Slade barked, swinging his blade up in a wide arc so that it could sit on Sebastian's shoulder, next to his throat. "What I care about is that Daily put my Omega in the hospital and you're the cunt that put him up to that," the Alpha spat his words.
Sebastian swallowed around a lump in his throat that didn't seem to want to go down as he stared back into Wilson's almost impossibly dark eyes. "Oliver Queen's in the hospital?"
The Beta laughed though he's not sure why as he immediately regrets having done so when fury sparked behind Wilson's eyes. Cold steel pressed against Sebastian's neck and he stilled, hoping to keep the flesh on his neck intact by doing so. His palms remained shaky, even as he wrapped a hand around the wrist Wilson had on his blade. "That wasn't my fault. It was all Daily. I didn't tell him to touch Queen," Sebastian pleaded.
"And why should I believe you?" Slade growled.
"He's alright... right?" Sebastian gaped. He was praying to whatever deities existed that Queen was alright. Frankly, he had no idea why Daily would have put him in the hospital. Had Queen been with Miss Lance when Daily had kidnapped her from her apartment? Shit, if Queen had been there, Sebastian didn't doubt that Daily would have possibly knocked the Omega out or at least tried to get him out of the way in some shape or form.
"And how would you define alright?" Slade fumed, edging his face in closer to Sebastian's.
If it was possible, Sebastian would have sunken into the wall behind him, but alas he didn't have the ability to do so. "Not dead," Sebastian squeaked, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. Queen was probably doing better than Daily in that respect. He almost wanted to ask what Daily had done to warrant Wilson's wrath—how badly Queen had been injured—but he didn't think that wise at present.
Slade huffed. "I think you'd best adjust your definition of alright, alderman, as you can be alright, in a moment."
Sebastian was thankful that the Alpha's gaze left his for a moment as the man glanced down at the carpet momentarily before glaring back at him. "Know this, Sebastian Blood," the Alpha hissed. "I'd dispose of you in a heartbeat. Know you are not alive out of any mercy on my behalf. It is only Oliver's benevolence—and that isn't even for you, it is his love for the city and that somehow you'll be useful to it—that keeps you alive. I'd pray he's always alright if I were you, because if anything should ever happen to Oliver—even if you weren't personally responsible for harm befalling him—I'll gut you."
As the Alpha finished speaking, each of his words seemingly permeated with a hiss, Slade pulled away from Sebastian. Shaky legs gave out from beneath Sebastian as Beta allowed himself to slide down against the wall. His eyes were wide-eyed and unblinking as he stared at Wilson.
The Alpha slid his sword back into its sheath on his back before grabbing his helmet off the bed.
"Give Ms Rochev my best," Slade stated. After those words had left his lips, he opened the door and proceeded out of the room.
Remaining still, Sebastian waited until he heard the front door open before moving. Racing to the front door, he locked it, then deadbolted it, before allowing himself to collapse onto the ground once more. He wasn't actually sure not sure why he'd bothered locking the door. If Wilson wanted to come back, he had a key and was also perfectly capable of breaking in, should he so choose to.
Huffing, Sebastian inhaled deeply, drawing in oxygen, almost surprised at how normal the air smelt, no scents lingering on the breeze. He'd forgotten Slade had been wearing some form of scent concealment. Sebastian was actually kind of glad the man's scent was covered. He didn't want Slade's scent lingering in his house, reminding him that the Alpha had paid him a visit. Memory alone would serve as a reminder.
Getting to his feet, Sebastian decided he needed a drink. Really, he wished he weren't sober now as if weren't, maybe he'd then have had a chance of forgetting about all this.
He'd better call Isabel.
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Author Notes: Here's the most recent piece of art I've commissioned for this series and it's cover art at that!
This piece was made by GraveSecret.
I wanted the piece to be very symbolic and so it includes pretty much all the different types of flowers Slade gave Oliver between chapters 11 and 14. The flowers in Oliver's quiver and Slade's chest are gladioli and giving someone a bouquet of gladioli is meant to tell the recipient that they pierce and fill the giver's heart with love. These are the birth flower of August and the same flowers Slade grew when he was a teenager, wanting to give them to his mother on her birthday, but alas she passed before then and the gladioli were buried with her.
Part of the inspiration behind this artwork was the trope Hanahaki Disease. For those of you that don't know, Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease that appears in fanworks where a person begins to cough up flower petals because they love someone who doesn't love them back. I've seen pieces of Hanahaki Disease art where the flowers grow to encompass the person's entire lungs and also read fanfiction where the person coughs up a specific flower which usually has a relevant associated meaning behind it. Rather than going the Hanahaki Disease route for the piece of art I got created (as that wouldn't work for Slade and Oliver in this fic's case as the feelings are mutual between them), I had this idea of making the gladioli flowers the 'ends' of Oliver's arrows and putting some of those arrows in Oliver's quiver and in Slade's chest. In my mind, the gladioli flower-arrows are kind of like Cupid's arrows but instead of making the recipient fall in love, the gladioli flower-arrows expose whether Slade and Oliver's feelings for each other are mutual or not (because in this fic Slade and Oliver have both hemmed and hawed about whether or not the other liked them). Oliver has shot Slade with the gladioli flower-arrows, effectively piercing his heart with love (as goes the meaning behind the flower), and because Slade loves Oliver back, the flower-arrows don't hurt him.
I hope you all enjoy this piece of art, I know I do!