A/N: So… I know there's a lot of speculation about their relationship and what was said and what was not said and blah blah blah. Anyhow, we all know that Oliver and Felicity have a special relationship. However, I don't believe their friendship can jump right into romance with just a love confession and a few heart-searing kisses. They're more subtle than that, and they need to develop some more. I mean, everything about their relationship is through gazes and small touches, isn't it? I love reviews!
(Also, I'm sorry if the quotes are a smidgen incorrect. I did it from memory. It's been a while. All mistakes are mine.)
Disclaimed.
Not by Choice: We Won't Lose Each Other
.~.~.
"… But I do remember how much it hurt when he left. Just the thought of losing someone important to me…"
"Hey. You're not going to lose me."
.~.~.
Their short but poignant conversation echoed in the back of his mind, lingering, months later, as he watched her work at her station in front of her beloved computers. As her brightly painted nails tapped steadily across her keyboards, her blonde hair down over her shoulders, set free from her standard pony tail, he realizes, not for the first time, but by far the strongest, that he could have lost her. It wasn't the fact that she had her second scar – that had happened a while ago. It was clean, healed, and invisible under her brightly colored and brightly printed dresses – Even if that had been the case, it wouldn't be the reason he felt so strongly at this moment. God forbid Felicity was ever fatally harmed; it would not be her choice to leave him. After all, when they'd had their conversation at his mother's political rally, she had told him her father had left her family. In short, her father had chosen to leave. And when Oliver had made his promise, he'd meant, underneath, where meaning hid under letters and words, that he would never leave Felicity by choice. He would choose her. He would always choose her. Had he not proven so when the Count had taken her? When he listened to her over Sarah, over Detective Lance, even Laurel? And on increasing occasions, it was her voice and her eyes that forced him into focus or dragged him from his brooding self.
But, no. This time had been different. This time, she could have chosen to leave. Between the job offer being in Central City and Barry Allen being awake, recovered, and doing his own vigilante-ing, Oliver thought there was quite a good chance that Felicity would accept the offer. She hadn't, clearly, since she sat in front of him, but she could have. She could have. Parts of him still wondered and warred with himself as to why she hadn't... However, what she had done was accept Detective Lance's job offer as the precinct's computer forensic scientist, considering their previous expert had died in the midst of the madness that was Slade Wilson's Mirakuru Army. She could have chosen otherwise. She had another out.
She stayed.
And Oliver was still annoyed with himself for two reasons: one, that he had questioned her loyalty to him, to them, to Team Arrow, (he cringed a little at the term, but it was her term, and it was her he was thinking about,) by allowing part of himself to think she was going to leave. And two, because another part of him had assumed she would stay. Their words concerning where they stood exactly in this friendship/pseudo-relationship remained unspoken, but didn't she deserve her normal life? Her "boring life of being an IT girl"? He wanted her safe. He had never lied when he took her to his mansion that fateful night. He had wanted her safe, but that hadn't been an option that night. If she left Starling City, then the idea might be back on the table.
Then, of course, there was his "I love you." He did love her… he just didn't, and still doesn't, quite understand the depth of that love. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn't wish to name it, because once he names it… well, that makes it real. For now, it was enough for him to process that fact that it had been true, no matter the form.
Diggle had questioned him about it once. After they had come back from the island, and then lost themselves in a good workout. They had been slacking, after all. And somehow, for some strange reason, it was when they were beating the crap out of each other that they had their best conversations about their feelings. Perhaps it was the manly beating stuff up that balanced out the touchy-feely. Diggle had told him about Lyla and the baby, and then, in order to shift the focus from himself, he had asked Oliver about the beach. Something about "we both sold it" had reached his ears on the beach; damn the Special Forces training that caused the man to eaves drop even when he was trying not to. So, Digg had asked, and Oliver had answered. It must not have satisfied his friend, because after stating the obvious (that is, "Felicity and I are partners, just like you are with us. We did what needed to be done.") The man had heaved a long suffering sigh, lifted his eyes to Heaven, and gave a knowing look before walking away. Suffice it to say Oliver had felt quite judged after the fact, even if he didn't quite know about what or why.
The clicking of heels broke him out of his introspection. Looking up from where he leaned against the table of their fixed-up but not as new lair, Oliver saw Felicity standing right in front of him, eyebrows knitted behind her two-toned glasses.
"You have thinking face. And you haven't moved in a while. What're you thinking?"
He sighed heavily, but tried to mask how heavily with a playboy grin before mentally cringing. Not a good balance, even if it he hoped foolishly that it would work to make her let it be.
It didn't work.
"You know you can tell me, Oliver." She said as she moved to his left, leaning against the table and mimicking his pose.
He might as well. It wasn't as if she'd leave it alone. 'Straight to the point. Don't waste words, Oliver Queen.' There he went thinking about himself in third person… he really needed to work on that, "Remember when you told me about your father, and you said you were afraid of losing someone close to you?"
Her eyes narrowed, and an air of suspicion and wariness began to cloud her fair face, "Yeah… you said I'd never lose you."
"And you won't." He said firmly as he placed a reassuring hand on her upper arm, and the clouds in her face dissipated, "It's just – I have the same fear."
"Oh." He swears it's the same tone when he'd said Slade had taken the wrong woman. Surprise. A tinge of pleasure. Her eyes soften, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her brightly painted mouth, "Hey. You're not going to lose me."
He gives her a small smile in return, and she hesitates only briefly before leaning over to kiss his cheek, resting her right hand against his jaw to keep him from moving. Her hand is soft and warm against his face, and she lingers a few beats longer than she ever did when she kissed Digg, and then she pulls away. In that moment, when they just watch each other as they often times do, he can see how radiantly her light shines as he seems to gaze into her soul. Felicity has a bright soul, and he remarks to himself about how many times he's already used that adjective to describe her. Everything about her is bright, and warm, and unconquerable.
Then she tunes and goes back to her computers, and when he knows she's not looking, he allows his fingers to brush the place where her bright pink lips (there it is again) had rested just a few seconds before.
Oh, yes. Digg definitely had a right to judge him. Oliver wasn't ready yet, but he will be, he promised himself. In the meantime, at least they've promised they will never choose to leave each other.