Thanks to Molly (itsalwaysfour) for the help.
The first time he told her was when they were trying to beat Slade.
"I love you," Oliver whispered, and her heart nearly stopped. "Do you understand?" he continued, taking her hand, pressing a syringe against palm. And Felicity did understand. Slade would come for her, and she would be close enough to inject the cure. She would be the one to turn Hyde back to Jekyll.
Her heart sank a little at realizing his words weren't true; he was so convincing. She nodded and watched him turn and walk out the door.
The second time he was delirious with fever. He had caught a bad case of the flu, probably from running around rooftops in the middle of a winter rain storm, and had decided to hole up in the Arrow Cave rather than Queen Mansion. She had brought him soup, made from her grandmother's recipe. Her grandmother was one of the few bright spots of her childhood and this recipe was one of Felicity's fondest memories.
She was helping him eat the chicken noodle soup when he murmured the words. "I love you," came out in a faint and hoarse whisper. Felicity froze where she was, the spoon held halfway to his mouth. Her heart was pounding in her head and mouth had gone dry. By the time she had found her voice, Oliver had passed out again, slipping into a deep sleep.
She sighed. The flu, the fever, he didn't know what he was saying, let alone who he was saying it to.
Covering the soup, she set it aside and returned to the computers, her stomach hollow.
The words came again when they were held at gunpoint (again) and she really wasn't sure why they were at gunpoint and in a hostage situation. She just knew this guy was so upset and distraught it had driven him crazy and now he was waving a gun around in the lobby of Queen Consolidated like a madman.
Felicity felt really sorry for him.
Until he decided to segregate her and Oliver with his madman antics and she was standing with a pistol at her temple and concern for their safety replaced sympathy for the craze gunman. Maybe he had escaped from St. Walker and was certifiably insane. Really Queen Consolidated needed to beef up their security.
"Don't worry, Felicity," Oliver told her as the gunman held her to his chest. "We're going to get through this. I love you."
Felicity stared at him, confused, scared, worried, and utterly bewildered why he'd said those words. Was he trying to appeal to the madman's humanity?
There were several moments (maybe hours, Felicity really had no idea) where all she could hear was the thudding of her heart in her ears and her mind frantically raced to understand why Oliver had once again said "I love you" to her.
The only logical explanation was empathizing with the man who stood at her back with a Glock to head.
Suddenly the man crumpled at her back and she turned to see a tranquillizer dart in the side of his neck. Her drumming heart was the only sound she could hear as Oliver ran up beside her. His voice was muffled as he called her name.
"Felicity!" he said urgently. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, shaking. "Yes, yes," she told him. "I'm – yes. Let's just – let's leave."
He nodded, concern painting his features, and led her away from the crowds, his arm protectively around her shoulder. The only pause was the briefest moment to tell Detective Lance where they could find them for their statements.
She never brought up the "I love you". And neither did he.
"Felicity, we need to get in there," Oliver's urgent voice came over the comm.
"I'm working on it!" she told him exasperatedly, fingers flying across the keyboard. "This is an intricate system," she explained as she hacked through the various security roadblocks. "I've never seen so many dummy servers and firewalls, but I think I've found a backdoor… Yes!" she exclaimed. "Alarm's off, cameras looping empty hallways, you're good."
"God, Felicity, you're the best. I love you."
She blushed at his fancy, adrenaline-fused way of saying thank you. "You're going to want to head east once you're inside," she told him, scanning the blueprints of the building, "and take the second right. Roy, head north from your position and come up right behind Oliver."
Felicity looked up to find Diggle smiling fondly at her. "What?" she asked in a definitely not defensive tone.
But the older man just shook his head and turned back to his computer.
She always told him to take the recommended dosage, to at least eyeball it so he doesn't OD. But he never listened.
Now he was lying on the couch in the foundry, staring at his fingers as he hummed what sounded like Russian lullabies under his breath.
"He's as high as a kite," Roy muttered.
The three of them stood near the computer bank, watching Oliver flex his fingers and hands as though he never had before.
"Doc gave the Arrow a stronger prescription this time," Diggle commented. "Probably thinking they would last longer, but Doc doesn't know Oliver has his own theory on dosage."
"He took like seven," Felicity said. "I told him four would be fine, which was double what the label recommended. But he never listens," she sighed. "I guess you guys will have to hold down the city tonight."
They nodded in agreement. Oliver would fall on his face trying to get up the steps of the foundry.
"He's actually worse than you when Digg slipped you the oxycodone," Roy told Felicity. "I didn't think that was possible."
"Digg did what?" she exclaimed and Diggle gave the younger man a flat look.
"Come on, Roy," he said dryly, grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him toward the back of the lair. "Let's go patrol. And no, you can't be the Arrow tonight," he told him as Roy opened his mouth.
"But I've been working really hard!"
"It won't fit."
Felicity shook her head slightly, a small smile on her face as they walked away, bantering like brothers. Grabbing a bottle of water, she sat on the edge of the sofa beside Oliver, hoping to get him to drink more. He was going to be high and dehydrated at this rate.
"Here, Oliver," she said gently, placing the bottle at his lips, "let's drink some water."
"Fe-li-city," he murmured in a singsong voice, sipping some water. "So pretty, Fe-li-ci-ty."
Felicity shook her head again. Leave it to her to only get compliments from the guys high off his ass.
"So good," he muttered. "So strong. So pretty…"
"Okay, Oliver," she placated, "drink some more water."
It took several moments, but Felicity was able to get him to drink most of the bottle. "Just sleep it off, Oliver," she told him standing.
"No, stay…" he asked, grabbing her hand. The calluses sent a shiver up her spine. Even doped up on pain meds his reflexes were incredible.
Felicity smiled at him. "Just for a little bit," she compromised.
He gave a lopsided grin of thanks, his eyes hooded as he looked up at her. "Love you, 'Licity," he mumbled before closing his eyes.
He really was high, Felicity thought wryly.
Queen Consolidated was quiet. It was late, nearly midnight, and Oliver was still hunched over a stack of paperwork at his desk. Diggle was stretched on the office sofa, his jacket rolled under his head for a pillow, arms crossed over his chest as he dozed.
Felicity looked Oliver from her desk. She was trying to do as much as she could to lighten his load, but most of what was left needed to be reviewed and signed by the CEO. She watched Oliver tilt his head back and rub a kink in his neck. Her and Diggle and gone for take-out a few hours ago; Oliver was probably in need of something if he insisted on staying here all night.
Sighing, she decided to break her one rule as executive assistant to Oliver Queen.
Heels clicking on the tile, she made her way to the small kitchen off the lobby of the CEO's office. And she brewed a pot of coffee.
Filling a cup, she added the creamer she knew Oliver liked and walked back to his office. She entered quietly to no disturb him and set the ceramic cup gently on the table.
Oliver looked up at her, his face soft and head titled to the side. She saw the question in his eye and gave a small shrug. He smiled sincerely up at her. "I love you," he told her simply.
Shaking her head at his delirium (obviously he needed caffeine), she turned toward the door. His hand caught hers gently before she could take two steps. Oliver turned her to face him, one hand lightly tracing her cheek. "Felicity," he said softly, seriously, slowly, "I love you."
"You're tired," she began, frowning at the words, and his lips cut her off.
The kiss was gentle, his lips soft and firm as they moved gently against hers. It was a kiss filled with a tenderness she had never experienced. Her heart swelled and her mind raced.
Oliver drew back and she stared up at him, still not quite sure she understood him. "I love you," he repeated. The honest, sincere emotion was bare on his face, in his eyes, and Felicity knew it was true.
In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers.
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