It's colder than John anticipates when he emerges from the bathroom, and he wishes he had put more than just his pants as he shivers and then reenters Dinah's bedroom. He's surprised to find she's sitting up, wearing his shirt - only half-buttoned up - and drinking whiskey straight from the bottle. She scrunches up her eyes and winces as she swallows, but when she looks up at John her pupils are bright and sparkling and he's sure his heart skips a beat.
"You all right?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says after a moment, not really registering what she said in the first few seconds. "You?"
She tilts her head to one side and her eyes follow him as John makes his way back to what's become his side of her bed. Dinah extends her hand to him, offering him the bottle, and he accepts it without hesitation, taking a sip. "Why wouldn't I be?" she says when he hands the bottle back to him.
"Because you just found out someone you loved is alive. That's a lot to process."
Dinah just rolls her eyes, though. "Come on, John. That's not what this is about. Go ahead and say it."
Inwardly John groans. He knows he's not exactly subtle - it's kind of what brought them together, really - but he doesn't expect her to cotton on so quickly.
"You let him go," he says finally. "Your boyfriend."
She turns away at that, setting down the bottle on her bedside cabinet with a loud thud. "Do you enjoy calling him that?"
"So, what, he's not your boyfriend anymore?"
"John, that was four years ago. And why does it matter, anyway? I'm not the one -" But she stops herself and she looks genuinely guilty as she bites her lip, shoulders slumped, and then turns on her side so she's lying down, leaning on her elbow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"
"No, I get it," John says, and he's surprised at how steady his voice is. "Fine, it's in the past, whatever you and he had. And you're right. I'm hardly one to judge. That still doesn't explain -"
"We talked. Vince and me."
"As in, you as a cop, or you as Canary?"
She sighs. "As Canary. I don't know - maybe I thought putting on a mask would protect me, somehow. But I just - I knew who was behind his mask and - God help me, I couldn't do it."
He furrows his brow, lying back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "And then what?"
"Someone found us. A cop. And this guy panicked and aimed a shot at me and -"
"Vince took it for you," John finishes.
"How did you know?" Dinah asks, and he inhales sharply when she reaches out and her hand settles on his bare chest, right above his heartbeat.
But after a second John just shrugs. "It's what I would do," he said simply. Her eyes widen and he adds, "Come on, Dinah, you really think there is anything I wouldn't do to protect you?"
He groans when he feels her nails contract on his chest, and then he turns on his side so his back is to her and he can feel the soft press of her breasts against his shoulder blades. When she speaks her breath flutters against the nape of John's neck.
"Well, uh, after that, I couldn't - I couldn't hurt him. I had to let him go."
"I understand," he says softly.
There's silence for a moment and he can feel her shift a little behind him. "You - wait, what? So, uh, you're not mad?"
"Well, you're a grown woman capable of making her own decisions. I don't know if it was the right call, but - I understand. And no. I'm not mad. I don't exactly have the right to be. It's not like -"
And he can't see her face but really he doesn't need to in order to know what her expression is. "Not like you don't make bad decisions yourself?"
"Something like that," he murmurs.
But then he closes his eyes as seconds later he feels the softest kiss on the back of his neck, and all the tension that's been in his shoulders just disappears at that, so when he senses her moving away he groans in protest.
"Hang on a sec," she murmurs, and he moves so he's facing her once more and he realises she's unbuttoning the shirt she still has on. John wants to wait, at least until she's gotten to the last button, but he can't help leaning forward and kissing her anyway - her lips first, then her cheek, and then he's sure he can feel the warm hum of her moan when he drops a kiss right on the hollow of her throat. He pulls the garment open, sprawling himself on top of her.
"You okay?" he says, and Dinah just laughs.
"One of these days you're gonna stop asking me that."
John can't help smiling too. "Don't count on it."
And as he ducks his head and kisses his way down her body and makes her gasp, he could be wondering about what is happening to him - and, more importantly, what will happen when his actions inevitably catch up with him. But instead it is easier, so much easier, to lose himself in her, to press his mouth against the inside of her thigh, to revel in the feeling of her soft hands all over him, for what feels simultaneously like the first and thousandth time. Because Dinah is right. Putting on a mask does nothing to protect you - but he doesn't have to be the Green Arrow right now, thankfully.
No, for a short time, an impossibly short time, he gets to be John Diggle, and later when he slips away from her as he usually does without saying goodbye, he contemplates if this mantle his friend passed to him would ever feel lighter on his shoulders.