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A/N: Information and prompts can be found at smoakandarrow's Tumblr. Prompt #9: Sleepless Nights.
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A/N #2: I'm really behind on the Season 2, Flash Prompts, due to RL. Had to pack and move to a new apartment on a tight budget, and this is the first moment I've had to sit down and write.
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Not a Fantasy So Divine
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Since the day she'd learned that Oliver was Starling City's very own vigilante and subsequently joined Team Arrow—Oliver should stop his eye rolling, that's what they were, a team and family—Felicity had suffered many a sleepless night, or just hour or two of sleep. Next would be drinking copious amounts of coffee to make it through the day at Queen Consolidated and yet another late night in the foundry.
Or sometimes it wasn't simple like working on her babies, searching for whatever Oliver wanted next, or making needed updates—it was the terror of what new injury Oliver and/or John had suffered; from knife wounds to bullet holes. And there were nights where their brushoffs of the newest damage worried Felicity all the more, making it hard to do much more than stare blankly at her TV as it played an episode of Doctor Who on Netflix.
When she and Oliver started dating, not just dancing around their feelings, it got a bit easier, mostly because Felicity was allowed into his life as Oliver Queen, more than just as his EA. Also was when he started to stay overnight, she could hardly worry herself sick over him falling over dead if he was lying next to her in bed, feeling warm puffs of his breath on her shoulder as he held her tightly from behind. Yet, there were still so many night woken up at 3:00 in the morning because of Oliver's thrashing, lost somewhere back on the island in his dreams; most times Felicity fell back asleep after a while of watching over him, or not at all because he'd woken and decided to talk about the night terror.
Of course there was other kinds of late nights—the kind that at times brought a flush to her face to think of. Nights spent worshiping his hard body lustfully and lovingly as she wanted, with Oliver responding in kind.
Yet most of those nights paled in the contentment this current one brought to Felicity's heart; making it beat hard and feeling the love for her husband pulse in her blood.
Standing in the doorway, she watched Oliver sit in the wooden rocking chair, holding their three month old son, Connor Queen, protectively in his arms, while murmuring soothingly to him. Nothing gave Felicity more joy than to watch her husband with their little boy—who looked so much like Oliver—in those strong arms and big hands, but never anything but gentle.
"Felicity," he said, drawing out the syllables of her name, his voice hushed and Connor released a soft coo at his daddy's voice. "He's absolutely perfect." Oliver looked at her, his dark blue eyes warm with unmeasurable love.
Her lips quirked in a tiny smile, but no less loving. "The best parts of us," she answered, with agreement, and a gentle reminder that he was not undeserving of this beautiful family they'd created. "And we both love you, very much, Oliver."
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[Fin.]