A/N: Hey all, new to Arrow. The hubs and I started watching over the holidays and now I'm... more than a little obsessed :-) Not beta'd, so feel free to let me know if there are errors.
A/N: I don't own Arrow. Trying to get my husband to dress as him for Halloween, though ;-)
Oliver walks back into the Foundry, sweaty and more than a little sore from his fight with the group of gangbangers he - literally - roped up for the SCPD. Dig had been doing recon on what Felicity suspected was the headquarters of this relatively new group of thugs that had been dealing in drugs and weapons in The Glades. He had finished earlier and debriefed Felicity, who Oliver can now see, sitting at her bay of computers and talking to herself.
Out of habit more than anything, Oliver had been moving on silent feet as he descended the stairs, so when Felicity knocked a pen off her desk, he stopped to appreciate the view when she got out of her chair and bent over to pick it up. That woman in a tight pencil skirt should really be illegal.
"Were you staring at my ass?"
Apparently, his admiration had turned into distraction that had persisted for a second too long. He blamed it on being tired. Yeah, it's because he was tired. It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd been finding it harder and harder to resist the witty, funny, and sweet blonde. Nothing.
Oliver cleared his throat and let his eyes drift slowly up Felicity's body. Which, really, was a bad idea in leather pants. Once he met her accusing stare - taking note of the smirk on her lips - he said, serious as could be, "No," as he stepped off the last stair and began walking toward her.
"Yes you were," she protested, that smirk still playing around her mouth, "I saw you in the reflection of the arrow case. You were totally looking at my ass. Not that I mind, really. I mean, I mind, because it's nice to be appreciated, but I don't mind because you're welcome to look at whatever you want on me… 3, 2, 1…" Felicity flushes red as she turns and plops herself back down in her chair, pretending to be busy, but he can see that she's staring at him in the computer screen.
Why is she so hard to resist? Oliver feels a grin sneak onto his face that he can't seem to will away as he stops beside her and begins to take off his gloves after setting his quiver and bow down on the adjacent table. "It's a nice ass," he hears himself say. Apparently his filters are down. Oops. Before she can respond, he continues. "Why don't you go on home, Felicity. We can finish up our plan of attack on the gang headquarters tomorrow. You've been staying too late up here at night."
"I don't mind staying up all night with you. For you. I mean…"
Oliver rests a hand on her shoulder and squeezes slightly, pretending not to notice how she tenses and then shivers at his touch. "Go home, Felicity." So I can continue pretending I don't want you to come home with me, he adds in his head.
She turns and looks up at him then, that dark lipstick on her perfect mouth making his thoughts turn south again as she smiles. "You said I had a nice ass."
Purposefully, Oliver turns and takes off his hood and leather jacket, laying them in the case, then pulls his DriFit shirt off over his head, knowing that she's watching him. He turns back to face her and doesn't flex at all on purpose when he sees her eyes are glued to his chest. It was totally on accident. "So I did."
Felicity meets his eyes, and Oliver feels like what is surely in his is reflected in hers. Her pupils are slightly dilated, making her irises appear darker. He quirks a brow, challenging her to go on, feeling his upper lip pull up in a cocky smirk. If only she knew how much she affected him.
"Thank you," she says, her voice a little breathless, before she recovers. "You too. I mean, your ass is nice too." Her eyes close, a slight grimace on her face. Then, under her breath she adds, "Your everything is nice," as she spins back to face her computer.
Oliver almost snorts. Sometimes she forgets he's trained himself to have very acute hearing. He walks back over to her, trailing a finger across the sliver of skin bare around her neck at the top of her blouse, before leaning over and whispering in her ear, "Thank you for noticing."
It's so tempting to just flick out his tongue and tease her a bit, but he doesn't. The fact that she leans into him slightly doesn't help at all. He allows himself just a second to get lost in the fantasy of what would happen if he stopped resisting, which is apparently long enough for Felicity to turn her head and push her lips onto his.
"Oliver," she whispers as she pulls away, her mouth only connected to him for a moment. Too brief a moment. Long enough for him to discover she tasted sweet, but not long enough to figure out why. "Please don't ask me to go home again."
"Felicity," he whispers back, closing his eyes, wanting to savor how near she is because he knows he can never, will never, could never deserve what she's trying to offer. "Felicity," he repeats, trying to get his mouth to say what his brain knows he needs to, "I… I can't…"
"Be with someone you care about?" she finishes, and Oliver opens his eyes to stare into hers for a moment before nodding. Her lips twist in a scowl and her brows furrow in the middle. "I think you just say that because you're too scared to risk getting hurt again."
He scoffs and stands back up. "If I were to be with someone I care about," he begins, looking pointedly at her, "They would be in constant danger. Danger, Felicity, that I could not always protect them from."
"What if I think it's worth it?!" she exclaims, before adding, all in a rush, "They. What if they think it's worth it?"
Oliver closes his eyes, feeling the guilt of all the blood on his hands rush over him. "I am not worth it."
Felicity stands up in a hurry, her chair rolling back with the force of her motion, before she moves to stand right in front of him, close enough to poke him in the chest with her forefinger and for him to see the fire in her eyes. "That is not for you to decide, Oliver Queen."
He manages to keep a straight face, even though he wants to laugh at the irony of her trying to intimidate him. The last person that tried didn't much like the consequences. "Felicity," he says quietly, forcing himself to remain separated from her by the mere inches between them, instead of grab her hips and pull her into him like he really wanted. "When I became Arrow…"
"Let me in," she interrupts, speaking just as quietly, her hands back down at her sides. "I know every Oliver. The playboy Oliver and the CEO Oliver and the Arrow Oliver. You've nothing to hide from me."
Oliver squeezes his eyes shut again, this time to stop the prick of tears he feels begin suddenly under his eyelids. "Felicity, I can't."
"Can't? Not don't want to?" she challenges, threads of iron reforming in her voice.
He meets her eyes, then, hoping she can see his desire in his. "Never don't want to. Not with you." He sways forward involuntarily, feeling a nearly magnetic pull from her. "The fact that I am so tempted," he whispers, hardly trusting his voice, "Means it's even more important for me to resist."
She takes a tiny step forward, just enough to where he can feel her body heat radiating outward into his bare chest, but not close enough to touching. "Stop resisting just for the sake of it, Oliver. I am not afraid."
"I am," he confesses, the tension between them so thick he can practically see it. For a brief moment, he's glad his leather pants are so restrictive. "I am afraid." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I would never forgive myself if something happens to you because of me. You deserve so much better - so much more."
"I deserve what my heart wants," she insists, her eyes flashing again. "Let me in," she repeats. "I'm a big girl, Oliver. And I'm smart enough to know what I'm asking." When he doesn't say anything for several heartbeats, she says, "Fine. If you won't let me in forever, let me be the next 'one night.' "
Against his better judgment, Oliver reaches out a hand and runs it down her arm to take her hand, squeezing slightly. "I could never just have one night with you, Felicity. I want them all."
Her eyes widen, and she uses their connected hands to pull him into her. She gasps as she feels the result of their nearness through his pants against her stomach. "Take them, then. I want you to have them."
Oliver shakes his head, almost as if to clear it. "This is stupid," he says, his arms moving up to pull her closer. "But if I'm honest, I was going to give in sooner or later." He leans down to kiss her neck, and she tilts her head, giving her full access. "You are irresistable, woman," he whispers in her ear.
"Pheromones," she replies, making him laugh before he kisses her - honest-to-God kisses her - which makes her toes curl and her knees want to melt. His arms are locked around her waist, pulling their hips together so she winds hers up around his neck, her fingers teasing the short hair on the back of his head as she deepens the kiss, and hopes it never ends.
"Felicity," he says huskily, his voice dark in ways that make her squeeze her thighs together, "Please go home."
She meets his eyes, which look stormier than usual. "Only if you'll come with me," she replies, her voice nearly unrecognizable.
He steps back, grabbing his t-shirt from the case and smoothly sliding it back on over his head. If she happens to watch his muscles ripple in appreciation, well, who can blame her? She is puzzled, at least until Oliver grabs her hand and begins pulling her back toward the stairs to the back entrance.
"You're coming with me?" she asks, almost nervously as they spill out into the alley where her car and his bike are parked.
He turns to her as they near his bike. "How could I continue to resist those pheromones?" he teases, a grin playing on his mouth - a real one, one that is reflected in his eyes - as he throws a leg over to get on. "Meet you there."
Felicity nods, a smile breaking out on her face. Her body is practically vibrating in anticipation. She has no idea how she's going to manage to focus on the road. "Felicity?" he calls after her, and she turns back.
"Yes?"
"I should warn you," he says before starting the bike. "I'm not sure I've got it in me to be gentle tonight."
Parts of her body hum in response and she grins at him. "Me either," she retorts and feels a - perhaps unhealthy - deep satisfaction when she sees the resulting look on his face before she spins and walks back to her car without looking back.
Before she can get the damn key in the ignition, she hears the bike back out of the alley and speed away. Finally she gets the car on and finds the look in her eyes interestingly different as she glances in the rearview mirror.
Dollars to donuts, he's waiting in her bedroom when she gets there. She can't wait.