Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? - May 18, 2006
Title: Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?
Rating: R
Summary: Oliver Queen floats through life. Drunk, high, or hung over, everything is just a vapid blur... until it's not. Until he meets her.
Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Tommy Merlyn, Slade Wilson, Robert Queen (mentioned), Moira Queen (mentioned), Thea Queen (mentioned), Raisa (mentioned), Malcolm Merlyn (mentioned), Laurel Lance (mentioned), Sara Lance (mentioned), Sandra Hawke (mentioned), Donna Smoak (mentioned)
Genre: Romance, Drama, Humor, Alternative History, Angst
Status: In-Progress (1/12)
A/N: If you listen to the Arctic Monkeys (congratulations on your great taste in music), you'll recognize the title of this ficlet. Although the story was LOOSELY inspired (and entitled) by the song of the same name, this is, by no means, a song-fic. If you are so inclined, there are fic visuals over at my Pinterest Board 'A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words.' (But be forewarned that I work ahead, so there are slight spoilers.) As always, thanks for reading and enjoy!
~Charlynn~
Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?
May 18, 2006
The first thing he noticed was her red pen.
No, that was a lie. Oliver could lie to everyone else in his life - his parents, his girlfriend, his one night stands, his best friend, even his little sister, but he refused to lie to himself. That was a slippery slope that, once he fell down, even he knew he'd never be able to climb back up. So, in the spirit of being honest with himself, Oliver had to admit that what he really noticed first were her lips.
They were pink - painted so, but he had a feeling the woman didn't need makeup to make her mouth look so attractive. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bouncy ponytail, she wore glasses, and she was studiously taking the test before her. She looked prim and innocent... only, those lips were anything but. Pink was the color of little girls. It wasn't supposed to make his alcohol soaked brain sit up and take notice for the first time that morning. That week. But those pink painted lips were plump, and full, and sinfully wrapped around a red pen... and maybe Oliver had just spent far too much of his time at school going down on women instead of living up to the expectations his parents had set forth for him, but those kissable lips screamed anything but little girl.
So, yeah, her lips were pink, and her pen was red, and it was those two things that finally broke through his otherwise debilitating hangover. Glancing around the auditorium style classroom where he currently sat not taking the final exam still laying untouched and unopened upon the desk before him, Oliver tried - and failed - to remember what class this was for. In fact, he was having a hard time recognizing anything about his surroundings or even recalling how he had gotten there that morning. The last clear image in his mind was popping some pills one of Tommy's frat buddies had passed around like party favors and chasing the mystery drugs down with a generous portion of tequila.
CONTINUED HERE.