FicWad

Title: Dragonfly Wishes and Butterfly Kisses
Author: Sunscorched
Rating: R for language used in some chapters.
Category: AU
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Summary: Donations come in all forms.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Distribution: Chlollie on LJ, FF.net, and whever else I choose to post it!
Notes: I came up with the idea over sausages and I may be writing it, but a lot of folk have helped. Al, Strom, Gen, and Solo to name but a few. You know who you are :-D

Oliver had never gotten ready so fast in his life.

Showered and dressed in his nice clothes and good shoes, hair styled and cologne, all in under thirty minutes.

Now he stared at himself in his bedroom mirror, making sure he didn't look too over-done or too casual.

His simple grey shirt went well with his dirty denim jeans and simple black loafers. He ran his hand over his jaw, feeling for any signs of stubble, and thanked the world that his five o'clock shadow didn't appear for several hours after his first shave.

He thought about Bart and how lucky his buddy was that he only had to shave a couple of times a week, where himself had to do it at least twice a day. There were times when he figured no shaving rash was worth looking like King Kong.

Unfortunately, the paparazzi would have a field day if he went out looking uncouth and scruffy. The headlines didn't bear thinking about.

Oliver tucked his t-shirt into his jeans, turning his body this way and that, trying to get an idea of what would look better.

He studied his reflection for a moment before frowning. "Nah," a t-shirt tucked in just didn't look right and right is how he wanted to look. Especially if the blonde was as hot as Bart said.

Petite, his buddy had said in a rushed out breath. Petite and blonde and with one good set of hooters.

He checked his watch. "Four fifteen," he read. Another fifteen or so minutes and she'd be here.

Fifteen minutes wasn't long enough to properly set the mood, so he'd just have to set the mood while she was here. Wasn't like he hadn't done it before, so he pretty much knew what to do.

Once a bottle of Cristal was set in front of a girl, a bottle that came in an ice bucket and complimented with strawberries, then she was putty.

Usually most girls were putty when they heard his name was Queen, but some of them didn't believe him and needed that little extra push. Like the one Bart was sending his way.

Ollie pushed back Bart's comment about playing Tune In Tokyo with her nipples. That was a thought he did not want to be obvious when he looked at her.

He heard the doorbell chime and, "What?" She wasn't supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes.

She was obviously an eager one.

He hastily untucked his t-shirt and messed up his hair a little after deciding it was too perfect, then he shot a grin at his own reflection. "Guess I'll just have to improvise."

The doorbell rang again, so he hurried down the stairs only to pause at the bottom. After all, it wouldn't do to look eager or desperate.

Oliver cleared his throat and purposely walked so calmly to the door.

XOXOXO

The beach house had been an amazing piece of designer architechture, but what she was looking at now was beyond stunning.

The Queen mansion wasn't massive or ostentatious and unlike a lot of mansions, it wasn't imposing and didn't scream wealth. Of course there were large wrought iron gates and some serious security, which they'd be fools not to have considering who they were, but...
She shook her head and kept on doing the only thing she could and stare.

Stone grey walls were topped by a slate blue roof and beautifully scupltured windows that looked out over a well-manicured lawn. There a couple of trees scattrered here and there that were clearly taken care of by way of how they looked. They weren't cut or shaped into something resembling an animal or crazy modern art, yet the branches were kept from going wild.

Those trees were placed adjacent to a pond of sorts that started straight before flaring out into a large yet neat circle that had a fountain right in the middle.

Chloe's imagination was caught and all she could do was imagine the place lit up on a mid-summer's eve. God, the place would be spectacular. The whole thing was tasteful, elegant in the only way a woman could make it, and she knew she was looking at Mrs. Queen's house.

No, she thought, she was looking at Mrs. Queen's home.

No-one put this much energy into a simple house, mansion or not.

Which made it all the more nerve wrecking.

She was so very careful about not walking on the grass and resisted the urge to dip her fingers and toes in the pond, opting instead to carry on towards the front door.

"Front door?" Chloe scoffed rather jealously as her eyes took in the simple oak and glass design. She bet herself twenty dollars the door alone had been featured in the Home Made monthly magazine more than once. Hell, it was probably in the Top Ten list of doors to see before you die.

Did she knock or use the doorbell?

If she knocked, then they might not hear it from across the hall, so she went with the doorbell and chastised herself for the attitude.

Wouldn't do any good if she spoke with a bite, especially not considering what she was asking for.

She pressed the doorbell and jumped when the melody sounded. It was a dark, Gothic chime that didn't fit at all with the house and she had to give Mrs. Queen credit for her sense of humour, because that's what it had to be. A place like this with a melody that could have been Count Dracula's theme?

Definitely a sense of humour.

Chloe waited, then waited some more and when nobody answered, she pressed the doorbell again, only to wait some more.

If Bart Allen had lied to her about this, she'd show up at that house every damn day and make him see what his lying caused. Even if it meant taking pictures of her little girl when she was suffering.

She was about to turn away when the door opened and allowed her to see Oliver Queen.

XOXOXO

Oliver looked the cute little blonde over as he cursed Bart.

He couldn't see any hooters for the damn jacket she wore and she certainly wasn't hot enough to give a hard-on with looks alone.

For a start, the woman had dark circles under her eyes that she tried to cover up and her forehead were showing signs of continual frowning brought on by misery.

Despite all that, he had to shake his head to rid his head of his professor. Sure the woman in front of him had green eyes and was a petite blonde, but she was so...

He couldn't find a word to describe her except tired.

Still, he was raised to be polite and so he gave her the smile reserved for the papers, and held out a hand for her to take. "You must be Miss. Sullivan..."

Chloe struggled to keep her lip from curling up with distaste.

It was plain to see what kind of person Oliver Queen was as he stood there, plastic smile pasted on his face and looking for all the world like he just rolled out of bed. Which he probably had. Being The Son obviously came with chronic laziness and the need to play dress up for any woman showing up on his doorstep.

She ignored both his hand and the look he was giving her, choosing instead to give him the sweetest smile possible. "I am indeed Miss. Sullivan," she said, her voice saccharine. "And I think you fathered my daughter."

Oliver's smile immediately turned upside down and one eyebrow touched his hair line. Did she think he was an idiot who didn't know a gold digger when he saw one? "Sure I am," he replied, acid dripping from his tongue. "And there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, which isn't down my pants."

How the hell had her gorgeous little daughter come from this dickwad?

He was so going to pay for judging her before knowing any of the facts or her reasons for being here. Bart and A.C had clearly lied to her about Oliver Queen being a decent guy, or they were just blind to his true character.

Chloe's sweet smile only disappeared when she had to talk. "It must have been another Oliver Queen who donated sperm four and half years ago," then she watched as his smile got effectively wiped off his face.

Oliver glared at the woman in front of him. "Now I know you're lying because they said my donation would be discarded."

It was clear to her that she was getting to him, so she kept on playing the insipid blonde. "Yeah, about that," she began, "There was an employee there who was high and switched the samples. Tag, you're it."

He glanced over his shoulder before turning a fierce gaze on her. "Do you know that Stewart and Sons law firm works for Queen Industries? Or should I say my father's company?"

Okay, enough was enough.

Seeing her condescension was being completely missed, Chloe dropped her sweet facade and gave him her own fierce gaze. "Yes, I've hired them to sue the Bank of Star City for giving me the wrong donation."

He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. "That doesn't mean it was my donation that spawned your brat."

"Brat?" Chloe's voice was almost a distant echo in her ears. She thought of her Molly sat in the hospital, smiling and laughing despite everything she'd suffered and was going to suffer.

The only thing preventing her from smacking him into next year was the fact she would probably land in jail for marring his picture perfect face. Which was ironic. A pretty face for an ugly person.

"You dare call my daughter a brat?"

"Operative word there, babe. Your daughter, not mine."

"I didn't say is, you prick. I said might be. That selective hearing must come handy when people say things you don't want to hear. Like the truth." The truth of just how horrible a person he was under the expensive clothes and toothpaste grin.

"The very idea of you being her father makes me sick," she spat, anger had her breathing deep and hands forming fists. "You're the kind of person who wouldn't spare her a wave hello, let alone give bone marrow to save her life."

Chloe got a hold of herself before she broke down. The last thing she wanted was to have Oliver fucking Queen see her cry over shattered hopes of saving her daughter. "I hope to God your friends wake up and see you for what you really are."

Oliver stood and watched her walk away, not knowing what the hell to do or say. He opened his mouth to try to say something, anything, but nothing came out, so he did the only thing he could and went back inside.

His mind had no time to digest what had just been said when he heard his mother gasp.

"You might have a child?"

XOXOXO

Laura Queen stared at the son Robert and herself had raised to be a good, decent man and wondered where the hell they'd gone wrong. She'd heard every word exchanged and shame washed through her when listening to her son's response.

What really hurt her heart was hearing a woman say she felt sick at the thought of Oliver being her daughter's father. That said more than anything else about her son's behaviour.

She walked past him as calm as could be and straight out the door, hoping to catch the young woman before she could leave. "Miss. Sullivan," she called and had to pick up her pace when the young lady started to hurry.

No doubt she thought the person following was Oliver.

"Miss. Sullivan, please wait."

Chloe wanted to ignore the woman behind her, but she wasn't brought up to be an ignorant moron. She stopped and faced the woman who had be Mrs. Queen, yet she couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"Please forgive my son, Miss. Sullivan," Laura spoke. "He's..."

Of course she'd be worried about her precious little boy. "Don't worry about it," Chloe stated evenly. "There's nothing to forgive."

Laura Queen frowned at the implication in the young woman's words. "I'm not blind to his faults, Miss. Sullivan. I know how he can be."

"Then maybe it's time he started apologising for his actions."

Though Laura's first instincts was to defend her son, but she just couldn't bring herself to do so. Still, she couldn't have this young woman, the mother of her potential grandchild, think Oliver was rotten to the core.

"Please," she said. "Come inside where we can discuss this."

Was the woman trying to bribe her in some way? "If you'll pardon me," Chloe fought to keep her tone even. "I don't think there's anything to discuss. He clearly has no intention of hearing me out and to be perfectly honest, I'd rather choke than be within fifty feet of your son again."

"To be fair," Laura wouldn't stand for slander towards any of her family, even if they deserved it. "You did drop quite the bombshell on him."

"Your son should have thought about the consequences before he desposited a cup full of love at the bank."

Mrs. Queen looked at the other woman for a good few moments. Obviously the very mention of her son made Miss. Sullivan ill and that cut a hole right out of her heart.

Oh, Oliver. What have you become?

She had to broach the woman in a different way. "You say you have a child," Laura tried. "What's her name?"

None of your business, Chloe wanted to say, but the woman was trying. "Molly," she replied in a clipped tone that warned the other mother to keep the personal questions mimimal.

"That's a nice name. Does it run in the family?"

"What are you getting at, Mrs. Queen?"

Laura sighed, knowing her attempt had been discovered. "How would you react to someone making your daughter out to be something she isn't?"

Chloe smirked. "You mean like brat?"

The elder woman mentally winced. She definitely needed a way to get through to the young lady and she thought back to the conversation she'd overheard.

"I get the fact you mean well and want to protect your son from whatever press hell I may rain down on him, but you don't have to worry. No-one will hear anything from me." Well, no-one who didn't have access to a squadron of US marines who would be more than willing to give Oliver Queen a hiding.

"You said something about bone marrow," Laura recalled and a made a point to look intrigued. Though she knew little about bone marrow, she did know it used to treat cancers and leukemia...

Oh God.

Miss. Sullivan's daughter had cancer.

She knew she'd hit a nerve when Miss. Sullivan visibly tensed and stared harshly at her. "What about it?"

In no way would Laura ever use a child with cancer to help improve her son's image. "I..."

Chloe's smile was bitter, "Don't worry, Mrs. Queen. My daughter's on the register. I'm sure everything will work out."

"How can you stand there and tell me not to worry?" Laura snapped at the young mother's condescending tone. "That child might be my granddaughter."

Chloe could only hope not.

"I know my son hasn't given you any reason to think good of this family, but I'm not my son and neither is my husband," and Christ, her son had a lot to answer for.

"No," Chloe admitted grudgingly. "You're not your son."

"Then please," Laura asked. "Come inside. I'll see to it Oliver is nowhere to be seen. I promise."

Chloe blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Mrs. Queen, but talking won't do anything except waste our time."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're too old to donate and your son... Well, you obviously heard our little chat." She gave a tired smile. "That's what I came for. Not money or a lifetime commitment. I just need bone marrow to save my daughter."

Seeing she was about to walk away again, Laura tried one more thing and hated herself for it. "Don't my husband and I deserve to hear about our granddaughter, Miss. Sullivan? If she does turn out to be our granddaughter, I can assure you we will do everything we can to gain access."

Mrs. Queen would never forget the hatred in Miss. Sullivan's eyes.

XOXOXO

Oliver watched as his mother walked back toward the house with the blonde in tow and he had to look away at the expression she shot him. She looked worn and ashamed and he could have sworn she was holding back tears.

If that blonde harpy had said anything and then he looked at that blonde harpy, the hell in her eyes taking him aback.

It was plainly clear Miss. Sullivan wanted nothing to do with this family, so why was his mother bringing her back?

Laura Queen answered that herself. "I want you out of my sight, Oliver Jonas Queen. Do you hear me?"

Oliver didn't get a chance to reply as the other woman walked past him without so much as a glance.

Oh no.

Oh hell no.

If his mother had fallen for whatever sob story Miss. Sullivan came out with, then no way in hell was he leaving.

He knew his mother and she had a heart the size of Texas, making her very easy to be taken advantage of, something he wouldn't put past the blonde.

Oliver closed the door with a loud bang and straightened himself up before following the two women into the lounge, where he saw both women engaged in a staring contest.

While his mother had a good heart, she also stood firm when it came to something she believed in. Which gave him more reason to stick around to keep her from the claws of a gold digger with a sick kid.

Sick kid?

How many times had he heard that one?

Apart from none.

Hell, he hadn't even had the baby daddy thing. Most of the ladies he wined and dined were happy enough to receive pretty clothes here and a few connections there. Not only did he get what he wanted, but it kept them happy enough to leave him alone after all was said and done.

A good relationship was all about diplomacy. Well, his were at any rate.

Still, that didn't mean it couldn't happen and Oliver didn't believe the woman one little bit.

"So," he stated in a welcoming tone that was as false as his smile. "Anyone for coffee?"

XOXOXO

Oliver didn't get an answer, so he tried again. "Anything before I sit down? Because how annoying is that?"

Laura didn't once turn her attention to her son. "I'd like some iced tea, thank you, and for yourself, Miss Sullivan?"

"No, thank you. I won't be staying," was Chloe's reponse.

Only then did Laura look at Oliver and he really wished she didn't. "Oliver, bring a selection of refreshments so our guest can help herself."

Confining someone to the house through manners was certainly a new one for her.

"Great!" Oliver gave a large grin and clapped his hands. "Iced for mom and whatever Miss. Sullivan desires."

"Then you can make yourself scarce."

Like hell. "You two ladies make yourselves comfortable and I'll be right back."

Not giving either one a chance, Oliver hastily fled to the kitchens.

Laura waited until her son's footsteps could no longer be heard before she spoke. "Please have a seat, Miss. Sullivan," and ignored the look in the young woman's eyes as she calmly sat in her favourite seat.

White hot anger boiled Chloe's blood.

Didn't the woman understand she had a child waiting for her in the hospital?

"If you don't mind, Mrs. Queen," Chloe said, careful to her voice free of venom. "But my daughter will be waiting for me at the hospital." Plus, standing made it easier to run away and run away was just what she wanted to do.

The woman was stubborn as a mule and didn't look like she was willing to say anything. Laura sighed, exhausted. "Okay, Miss. Sullivan. You're free to leave."

Chloe softened just a little. "I was always free to leave, Mrs. Queen. I don't appreciate being manipulated into giving information about my daughter. Even if... No, especially if you're her grandmother."

Laura grabbed the olive branch with both hands. "All I want is what you wanted from my son, Miss. Sullivan. A few moments of your time, nothing more."

"She might not be your granddaughter," Chloe reminded lightly.

"There's no harm with indulging an old woman, is there?"

Chloe paused as she took in the sincerity on the other woman's face. "I guess not," she said and sat down on the closest seat.

Laura couldn't quite keep from smiling. "You said her name was Molly?"

"Yes. Molly Ann. It isn't a family name, to answer your earlier question."

The reply was a tad abrupt, but Mrs. Queen could live with that for now. "How old is she?"

Despite the current tension, Chloe found it all too easy to get sucked in by the other woman and her eager need to know about a little girl. She smiled and relaxed a little. "She's four, but she'd say four and a half."

Laura chuckled. "Those six months are very important, you know. Makes all the difference," then wondered why her words brought tears to the young mother's eyes, though they never fell.

"Yes, Mrs. Queen," Chloe cleared her throat. "Six months does make all the difference."

Not being to understand, the elder woman simply asked another question. The more information she had, the better. "Do you have any pictures?"

"I do, but..."

Laura frowned in confusion. "But what?"

"She's sick, Mrs. Queen, and..."

"A little bit upsetting?"

Chloe nodded. "I only brought the pictures of her in hospital to... Well, to guilt the donor into giving me some bone marrow."

Laura was a mother and sometimes it was a curse as much as it was a blessing. She'd never been able to stand by and hear a child cry without wanting to do something, anything, to help, so she prepared herself.

Then she was handed a small pile of photos and it felt like her heart had been torn right from her chest. A cry escaped as she stared down at the mirror image of her son and her brain spun that image until it was her son.

Laura glanced up at Miss. Sullivan, who was without a shadow of a doubt, the mother of her granddaughter.

"I know, Mrs. Queen," Chloe said softly. "I'm a mother," and confusion appeared as the other woman got up and left the lounge with the words excuse me, I won't be a moment thrown her way.

There was no Oliver and no Mrs. Queen, so now would make it a great time to...

"I bring refreshments..."

She sighed.

There went her escape route.

XOXOXO

Oliver would have entered the lounge five minutes earlier, but paused when he heard his mother ask that damn harpy to have a seat and he scowled at the rude refusal. His mother brought her back into the house and that woman was acting like a personal invitation was an everyday occurance?

He shook his head and prepared to enter, ready to speak his mind when his mother told the harpy she was free to leave if she wanted.

Of course the harpy chose to stay, which merely solidified his thoughts that she was just a gold digger with a fake sob story.

"Bart Allen," he muttered to himself. "You are so getting your ass kicked."

Then his mother made a sound he'd never heard in his life and before he could do anything, she was walking past him, a hand covering her mouth.

Oh, that was it, he thought angrily. The harpy was going to deal with him.

Oliver put on his best press smile and sauntered in, all happy and joyful. "I bring refreshments..." he half sang with false enthusiasm and placed a large tray on the table next to Chloe's seat.

"I don't want you out of this house, Miss. Sullivan," he said, still keeping the smile on his face. "I want you out of the damn state."

Chloe merely arched a single brow and spoke to him like he was a child. "I want never gets."

"Unless that I is me, then I always get what I want."

"If you were my son and you said that to a guest, I'd give you one hell of a talking too, sunshine."

Oliver leaned close enough to feel her nose against his. "Then it's a good thing I'm not. I pity your kid, Miss. Sulliva..."

Okay, ow.

He touched the side of his face which now stung like a fucking bitch.

"Now you listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a human," Chloe snarled. "You ever, and I do mean ever, talk that way about my daughter again? Oliver Queen or no, I swear I will kill you."

She'd slapped him.

She'd threatened his life.

In his own home.

Oliver's expression was not a pretty sight as he looked at her. "You ever make my mother cry out like that again? I'll have your name torn to shreds."

Chloe shook her head. "You'll have my name torn to shreds? Have? Implying that you won't tear my name to shreds, but need someone to do it for you. I don't know what's more... Pathetic was the word I used, right? I don't know what's more pathetic. You needing someone to do your dirty work or the fact you think I give a damn about my name."

The only thing preventing him from replying was the sound of his mother returning.

Oliver put on that large, plastic smile. "As you can see, Miss. Sullivan, you can have whatever you want," he said, then lowered his voice. "Especially the front door hitting your ass on the way out."

"Thank you, Mr. Queen," Chloe replied with an equally large, plastic smile before she also lowered her voice. "I'd rather have your face kissing my fist."

"Please," he oh so graciously offered. "Call me Oliver."

Chloe merely smiled. "I'd rather stick to Mr. Queen."

"I'm afraid, Miss. Sullivan," Laura stated as she fully entered the lounge, her voice still wavering with shock. "It might be best if you get used to calling him Oliver," and passed the young mother some photos.

Both Chloe and Oliver found themselves looking at baby pictures of Oliver in his toddler years and it was undeniable.

Oliver Queen was the father of Molly Sullivan.