AN: Thank you Taskeeng(Alexabout), Spartan303 and Sheridan for the beta! You guys rock! Thank you everyone that is still reading and those of you who have been commenting and letting me know what you think. You guys are awesome for sticking with me when this is taking so long to get updated!
Chapter 23: Sharp sticks
Steve was smiling when he arrived at Verdant. Oliver could see him through the club's windows. He watched him park and walk across the lot to the building. Felicity wasn't with Steve. Oliver crushed the little wave of disappointment that swept through him. After his talk with Stark and being faced with the prospect of having to go and talk to his mother about the situation with Slade, Oliver could have used a little of the brightness that Felicity tended to bring with her. It was that brightness; that hopeful optimism that he needed more than anything else right now.
He felt a hand on his back; soft and feminine, and realized Sara had come up behind him. He was surprised he hadn't heard her. She was really good at being silent, but he'd never allowed her to sneak up on him before. He must have been a lot more distracted than he'd realized. "Are you OK?" a totally unknown voice asked from close behind him. Reacting on instinct, Oliver reached for the hand on his shoulder and pulled the woman around, trapping her on the table between his body and the frame of his arms.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my club?" he growled menacingly, trying to work out who had most likely sent her and what her purpose might be. He couldn't help but notice that the blond in his hold was strikingly beautiful. There was amusement in her eyes as she stared up at him. He noted that there was none of the fear he'd come to expect from people when he had them trapped. His mind jumped to the League, but there wasn't any of the cold indifference or outright hatred he'd expect from a member sent to kill him. For that matter, this woman had touched him and asked about his well being, in stark contrast to a League member who wouldn't play such games. If he'd allowed a League assassin this close without noticing, he'd be dead.
"I was inquiring after your health," she told him. Her voice was breathless, low and sultry. Oliver's eyes were drawn to her full lips that were painted a shiny purplish pink. It made them look wet and just kissed. He clamped down on his body's instinctive reaction to the pure sexuality of the woman he was holding. She wasn't going to distract him from getting answers. Maybe she was one of Slade's. This was just the sort of game Slade might play.
"Who sent you?" he snarled, stepping more into her space and pushing her body in what should have been an uncomfortable angle. The woman adjusted effortlessly and somehow he found himself pressed even more tightly against her. Without his permission he could feel excitement settle in his groin while the rest of his body felt warm and flushed. He tried to push it away.
"It's less who sent me than who called for me," she told him unhelpfully. The twinkle of amusement had not left her eye. She was enjoying herself. Her body language was alert and poised, but he got the distinct impression that she was not bothered by him and really didn't consider herself in danger from him. "You should learn to ask for what you want to know and leave less to interpretation," she pointed out while allowing her body to loosen in his hold and almost flow against him. Damn, it was everything Oliver could do not to reach down and take what she was offering, but that wasn't him anymore. He wasn't the careless playboy he used to be. He just wished his body had gotten that memo. Oliver was glad for the suit jacket that camouflaged the arousal beginning to make him uncomfortable in his pants.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Steve's question brought Oliver up short. He had been so distracted by her he hadn't even heard him come in. What the hell!
"Hey Steve," the woman he had trapped against his body responded, her voice cheerful and casual as she tilted her head back to look behind her. The move exposed the creamy length of her throat to Oliver. "I'm just getting to know your new friend." Oliver looked between Steve and the woman. Obviously they knew each other. By his relaxed pose, Steve didn't think she was a threat , but Oliver didn't like how unfazed she was by Oliver's hold on her. She hadn't treated him as a threat to her at all.
"Oliver's not having the best week, Nat. You probably should cut him a break." Steve stopped across the table from them. "What'd you do to your hair?" he questioned.
Oliver couldn't quite control his slight grimace at Steve's question. Every man knew the folly of asking a woman that type of question, usually having learned from experience. Sure enough, the woman in his hold narrowed her eyes and stiffened. Suddenly her identity clicked in Oliver's head. With a heavy sigh, he rolled his eyes and stepped back slightly from the woman he assumed was Natasha Romanov, Steve's partner, the Black Widow. Ignoring Steve, she smiled up at Oliver as if he'd held a chair for her rather than released her from what should have been an uncomfortable hold.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" the widow asked without moving. Oliver wasn't going to be the one to give ground no matter who she was. He didn't back off anymore than he'd had to in order for her to stand slightly away from the table.
"You two looked pretty cozy when I came in," Steve answered, amusement clear in his voice. "I thought you must've already met."
"She broke in," Oliver spit out. "I was trying to get answers."
"You might have had better luck if you'd asked more interesting questions." She held out her hand even though there was little space between them. "Natasha Romanov, I assume you're Oliver Queen, the Arrow."
Oliver stiffened. Was there any of them that didn't know who he was? He looked over at Steve, but the man managed to look innocent and convey a look of, 'I told you she'd probably dig and find out who you are' at the same time.
Oliver turned back to Natasha clearly annoyed. "I don't like games," he told her, his voice cold. He wasn't in the mood.
"Noted," she told him sliding out from between his body and the table. Oliver barely caught his intake of breath as she allowed the softness of her body to brush across the solid wall of his chest on her way out of his space. He wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she had affected him. "A shame," she breathed glancing over him before she turned her back on him and focused on Steve. Oliver glanced up at the lights overhead, trying to get his mind back where it needed to be. He took a breath and worked to bring his body back under control.
"So, you don't like my hair?" Natasha asked Steve, her voice taking on a low, dangerous tone. At that, Oliver almost smiled. He knew that tone. He'd heard it from Thea many times before he'd learned to watch what he said in reference to how she looked.
"I never said that," Steve defended. Oliver nearly rolled his eyes. Classic mistake.
"It certainly sounded like that," she pointed out, staring him down.
"It's just a change. I need to get used to it on you." Steve was digging himself into a deeper hole. Oliver would have laughed if he hadn't been so on edge after his talk with Tony and then being messed with by the Black Widow. Natasha wasn't saying anything, just continuing to stare Steve down. She obviously had his number. He wasn't able to leave the silence between them.
"Your hair looks swell, Nat," Steve tried again, obviously very uncomfortable. At that moment, he didn't look much like a superhero. He looked like a young man who'd stuck his foot in his mouth and was just discovering the folly of his ways. Oliver felt his mood lighten slightly. He shouldn't enjoy his friend's awkwardness, but it was funny.
"You're a terrible liar, Rogers," Natasha pointed out. Oliver had to agree. She turned and pulled out a chair from the table before seating herself. "My hair would be back to red if you hadn't had company this morning." At her words, Steve's face started to turn a deep red. "I was going to use your shower but the laughing coming from upstairs sounded a little private. I didn't want to intrude."
Steve eyes were wide and his color was bordering on fire engine red when he spun on his heels away from the master assassin and put the file that he'd brought in with him down on the table. Oliver couldn't help it. He found himself chuckling a little at the man's discomfort. Even though he was pretty sure he knew who had been giggling with Steve, he still found himself amused by the Black Widow's teasing.
Oliver couldn't say it didn't hurt to see Felicity move on from her crush on him, but she was happy and she was with a man that could protect her and would treat her like she deserved without taking her out of Oliver's life. It was what she deserved and Oliver was slowly finding that he could live with that. Steve was becoming a good friend as well. He wasn't sure when his life had gotten strange enough that Captain America was becoming a friend he trusted at his back, but maybe fate had decided to give him a break.
"Miss Romanov, I'm guessing since you know who I am, that the basement of the club is no secret either," Oliver stated, deciding to take pity on Steve and change the subject. It hadn't escaped his attention that she'd come from behind him. Considering where he sat when she'd sneaked up on him, the basement was the only place she could have come from. Oliver glanced over at Steve. He didn't allow his face to show it, but he was amused that Steve looked relieved at the change of subject. "I think your hair is quite becoming, but I have a shower down there that you are welcome to use. No one is here but the three of us at the moment."
"Its Natasha, Mr Queen," she flashed Oliver a smile that made his insides melt. He could guess one of the many reasons why the woman before him was considered one of the deadliest in the world. Oliver was very single minded, but he had a hard time keeping his thoughts off of her. "I'll take you up on your offer, thank you." Her breathless voice pulled his eyes to her lips. He could imagine how they'd feel crushed beneath his.
"Its Oliver," he corrected her, not allowing his thoughts to show. "I'm assuming since you came from downstairs I don't need to give you the code." That brought an appraising look to her face followed by a quick smile.
"I think I'm going to enjoy working with you, Oliver," she told him before turning and disappearing down the hall.
"Thank you," Steve said, his voice full of sincerity. "I owe you one."
"When this is all over, we need to work on your social skills around women," Oliver pointed out.
"My best friend growing up tried for years to get me better with dames. I don't know that you'll have much luck, but I'm willing to give it another shot." The wistful look in Steve's eyes as he talked about his childhood friend made Oliver think of Tommy.
"First lesson, never let them hear you call them 'Dames'." Oliver instructed. "That friend you're talking about is Bucky Barnes?" Oliver guessed. At Steve's quick nod, he continued. "I lost my best friend, Tommy, in the Glades' earthquake. I was with him, but I couldn't save him. I can't imagine how it would feel to find out he'd lived and been taken prisoner. If you want help getting Barnes back I'm here for whatever you need." Oliver surprised himself a little with the offer. He had a lot on his plate, but he wanted to support Steve. He liked to think he'd learned a little from Diggle about friendship and being there, even when it wasn't good timing.
"Thank you," Steve told him, holding his eyes. "I think Natasha's right. He'll come to me when he's ready. Trying to find him is just going to push him deeper underground." Oliver wasn't sure he'd have the strength to hold back and not keep looking like Steve was doing. Sometimes doing nothing was the hardest choice.
Steve squared his shoulders and turned back to the table. He pushed the file he'd carried in with him toward Oliver. "This is everything that Natasha and Clint could find on Slade Wilson. Nat left it for me when she stopped by." When she broke into your house, Oliver thought, but didn't say anything. The Avengers were like one big, very dysfunctional family. He wasn't used to the way they teased and invaded each other's spaces. His family had never been like that. "I found it this morning," Steve was saying. "She'll have more to tell us when she comes back upstairs, but for now we need to go over the information and come up with a plan to protect your family."
Oliver sat down and pulled the file towards him. As he began to read, he could feel the weight of the information pressing down on him. Slade was even more prepared for his campaign against him than Oliver had suspected. The man had been planning for years, it seemed. He'd amassed support from mercenaries, built up a financial base and seemed to have the backing of some shadowy organizations that Oliver had never heard of.
"This is even worse than I thought." Oliver let the folder drop back on the table. He stared at the lights above him trying to bring himself under control. "He's well funded, well connected and has had years to plan." Despair settled in his chest. Even with Steve's help, he couldn't see how they were going to stop Slade.
"I agree. He's had time to plan and he's prepared. But the quote, 'no battle plan survives contact with the enemy' isn't wrong. We've already thrown a wrench into Wilson's plans once," Steve pointed out. "He wanted to take your sister and we stopped him. Whatever reasons he had for that, he now has to change course. We'll keep stopping him until we figure out where he is and end this for good." Steve's voice was so confident. He believed what he was saying and Oliver wanted to believe it too, but since coming to Starling City, Slade had always been a step ahead of them.