A/N: Hey, everybody! I'm back again with another one-shot. I love writing one-shots (if you haven't noticed) and found them to be a lot less stressful than multi-chapter fics. Though, I am working on a story that will be fairly long and several chapters so yay! Now, I have no idea where this idea came from. I just started writing and this happened. Let me know what you think in a review. I love hearing back from you guys. Enjoy!
Their mothers were best friends. Donna Smoak and Moira Queen knew each other from high school and stayed in touch ever since. That meant their pregnancies occurred in the same year due to very precise planning - but what they would call coincidence - and their children would be forced to spend time together. Donna had a daughter, Felicity, while Moira had a son, Oliver.
Felicity was born a couple months after Oliver, but she progressed much faster than him. It was her who spoke her first word, figured out how to crawl, and took her first steps all before him. Not to say that Oliver wasn't smart, because he was. He just preferred to take his time with things, a quality that Felicity would learn to appreciate much later.
For now, however, they were nine years old, sitting against his bed as some sitcom played in the background. Oliver was in control of the remote just like he always was, while Felicity spoke through the show like she always did. Their mothers were downstairs, sipping wine while their fathers smoked cigars on the balcony.
It was a Saturday. Most kids their age would normally be found outside, running around and wasting their energy. Not them. Oliver preferred getting into trouble inside the mansion, convincing Felicity to take part in his antics almost every time. She mostly always did follow through with his insane ideas, not wanting to be called lame or any other slightly hurtful word he tended to use to get his way.
Most of their time, surprisingly, was spent in his room. It was spacious and had a great view of the city. Some nights, when their parents were having too much fun for it to end, they would stare out into the bright lights, making up scenarios about what could be happening in that exact moment in a particular part of the city.
Oliver always made up tales of criminals mugging old women or bank robbers plotting a hasty escape. Felicity chose to stick to the happier stories. She would make up stories of proposals taking place in the beautiful parks or friends celebrating a night out in one of the many nightclubs. Oliver would tell her how cheesy her stories were while she told him how violent his were.
Sometimes they would fight, because no friendship was expected to be perfect, but they would always forget all about it by the time they saw each other at school the next day. She would fight with him a lot over how he would treat her when his best friend, Tommy Merlyn, came by to hang out when she was over. He would mostly act like a jerk, teasing her about pointless things until she pushed him down and stormed off.
She liked it better like how it was now. They were all alone in his room on a Saturday evening, and there was no one else there to steal his attention away. Not that she wanted his attention, because that was gross, but because she liked knowing someone was listening. In all the time she had known Oliver, he had never told her to stop talking, which was something she tended to do a lot. Like now, for instance, she had been going on about Cooper, this boy she thought was cute at their school. And all Oliver did was exhale loudly every so often, tapping his foot on the hardwood flooring.
"All the girls like him, you know," she told him. "But I think he likes me. He told me once that he thought I was pretty. Sara told me he was looking at me the whole day."
"Sara lies," he muttered, making her frown.
"Not about this. I caught him looking a couple of times."
"Isn't he dating Helena?"
"That was a rumor!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms.
"I saw them kissing," he said, seeming to be enjoying her anger.
"So he's kissed a girl, and you haven't?" she questioned, grinning victoriously for pointing that one out.
"Shut up," he said, creasing his brow. "You haven't kissed anyone either."
She stopped laughing, raising her chin so that she was looking down at him. "Well, Cooper's going to kiss me. He'll be my first kiss and you'll still never know what it feels like. Yet another thing I'll do before you."
Felicity didn't even have time to react when his lips landed on hers. Her head pushed into the mattress, arms resting limply at her side as his lips smashed against hers. He pulled away quickly, face reddened from concentration rather than embarrassment. She looked over at him, finding him smiling smugly.
"Looks like Cooper isn't your first kiss after all," he said.
She got to her feet, stomping off loudly. He didn't regret a thing.
Once they entered their teenage years, it was clear there was a shift in their relationship. They didn't hang out at school together anymore unless they were with a large group of people, and she found their evenings alone at his house to be filled with more tension than not. Their hormones were most definitely the cause behind that. There was also puberty, which seemed to benefit them both in ways that surprised the other.
For Felicity, she got breasts. They weren't anything more than decently sized, yet they seemed to catch Oliver's attention a lot. The first few times she caught him staring were more embarrassing for her than for him. As she got older, she found herself flattered by the attention. In addition to her boobs, she started styling her hair differently. Her mother let her dye it once she reached high school, so she changed the dark color to a light blonde.
Oliver had stared at her a lot after that, too, shaking his head every time he caught himself. He hadn't told her anything more than that it looked nice. She also switched over to contacts, ridding herself of the glasses that people only seemed to make fun of. Well, everyone except Oliver who told her they were cute, which was the only reason she kept them to wear when no one else was around. It was no surprise for her when she started getting asked out a lot more and getting invited to hang out with new types of people.
During all these changes for Felicity, Oliver was also undergoing differences. For one, he had a growth spurt. He was taller than most of the guys at their school, even though he was only sixteen. He also began getting more into fitness, gaining a lot of muscle that was definitely awe-worthy. His voice had deepened and his eyes took on a darker tone.
He knew girls found him attractive. A lot of girls texted him and flirted with him at school. Felicity was always there to tease him about the desperation of some of them, which he found more amusing than annoying. Though he would never admit it, he liked to believe she was jealous. He definitely was of the guys who drooled over her and tried to get away with sneaking looks down her brightly colored shirts.
One time, Oliver had been walking out of the school, when he overheard a guy shout something inappropriate towards Felicity. She had heard him, but didn't do much more than shoot him a glare. Oliver shoved the guy down in front of his friends, warning him not to ever do it again. He then left with Felicity, since she was headed to his place anyway.
She had a boyfriend for a little while during freshman year. He was some loser that Oliver had already forgotten the name of. She would tell Oliver about him though, and sometimes he would ask. He was curious to see what she thought of someone so undeserving. She told him the guy was a terrible kisser, and he tried to get too grabby with her, so they broke up. Oliver pretended not to be too happy about it, even offering to kiss her until she forgot all about that guy's awful kissing skills. She took it as a joke, laughing his offer off and then falling asleep on his shoulder halfway through an episode of Seinfeld.
Oliver told himself his jealousy was in a platonic way only. She was his oldest friend, and he couldn't help it if he had grown accustomed to looking out for her. Sure, he did find her attractive. In fact, he thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. His body responded to her in ways he couldn't control, which was why he was more reluctant to be alone with her in his room.
One night in particular stood out to him, where he couldn't control the affect she had on him. They were in his room, laughing behind closed doors. The television was on, only providing background noise to their banter. She was teasing him about losing the water balloon fight they had had in his yard earlier that day with a few other of their friends from school.
It had been Tommy, Laurel, Sara, Cooper, him, and her taking role in the fight. Tommy had suggested the idea after finding some leftover balloons in his locker from one of his projects for Physics. Oliver's house was near all of theirs, and it was a Friday. There really wasn't anything better to do than that until it got darker out, so they all got into their fancy cars and headed for Oliver's house.
They split into girls versus boys, filling the water balloons and distributing them evenly. Felicity had slipped her shoes off, making it easier to run around barefoot in his grass. Oliver had noticed how the color of her toes had matched her fingers, and smiled at her love for nail polish. At his call, they began the battle, throwing the balloons around the yard.
He had been aiming at her more than anyone else, grinning at the way she would scream when she saw him sneaking towards her, balloon in hand. He landed a few good ones on her, while she hit him four times. He hadn't been trying to avoid her throws, liking the way she would spin triumphantly when she hit him. Cooper was also aiming for Felicity a lot, chasing her around the yard more times than Oliver cared for.
As soon as the supply ran out, everyone was gone, saying they needed to dry off before they got sick. Felicity's mom was already at Oliver's house, sipping margaritas with his mom in the kitchen. He had run inside to get Felicity a towel while she slipped her shoes back on, walking side by side with her as they made their way to his bedroom afterwards.
Once they were inside, he shut the door, not thinking much of it. She went straight for the remote, taking advantage of the opportunity to control the television for a change. He didn't fight her on it, knowing that they would talk through it anyways. Then, just like he had thought, she started talking.
"You lost so badly," she said, clenching the towel around her wet hair.
He shook his head, running his towel through his hair as well. "I did not. You just made a few lucky hits."
"A few?!" she repeated. "I completely soaked you! Next time we do that, I'll make sure to avoid being on your team."
"That's mean," he told her, pretending to be hurt by her words just to hear the laugh she let out.
"It's not mean," she protested. "I'm just looking out for myself here. There's too much on the line for me to be risking it on your terrible aim."
He looked up at her, grinning. "Oh, so you think my aim is terrible, huh?"
"Extremely," she confirmed, smile dropping when she saw the balloon he revealed from underneath one of his shirts. "Oliver, what are you doing?"
"I found it by the hose after I came back with the towels," he explained to her, taking slow steps in her direction. "I wasn't planning on using it, but I think you've left me with no choice."
She hopped onto his bed, drawing herself to the headboard in an effort to shrink herself in size. "Oliver, don't! I'm serious."
He laughed, getting onto the bed with her. He held the balloon in his left hand, keeping it above his head threateningly. She shrieked his name, making him hang his head in laughter. Then, when he was least expecting it, she reached upwards, knocking the balloon from his grip and causing it to bounce into her lap. Hurriedly, she picked it up, slamming it into his torso.
The balloon exploded into tiny, shriveled pieces. The water soaked his shirt all the way through, sending a shiver down his spine from the cold temperature. Her hands flew to her mouth instantly, looking more afraid than she had when he was attempting to soak her with it. He took a second to process what had happened, shaking his head at her.
"Felicity, you have no idea what you've just done."
He then lunged forward, tickling her sides with his fingers. She writhed underneath him, laughing and swatting away at his hands. He was laughing as well, being relentless as she begged for him to stop. In the midst of all the limbs and laughter, he had ended up between her legs, hovering over her as he debated whether or not to take pity on her.
"Oliver, please," she pleaded, tears streaming from her eyes from laughing so hard.
He stopped, breathing labored as he nodded his head. She closed her eyes gratefully, resting her cheek against his pillow as she attempted to catch her breath. He stared down at her, becoming suddenly aware of their position. His eyes fell to her dress that had gathered up around her thighs, where he could very clearly see the outlines of her nipples. He tried to look away, but was finding it impossible. The breathy way she said his name is what drew his eyes back to hers.
"Oliver," she whispered, furrowing her brows.
"Yeah?" he murmured, trying not to let the guilt of getting caught checking her out show.
She looked down, biting her lower lip subtly. "Um... You're..."
He raised his eyebrows in question, not catching on to what she was saying. Then he followed her eyes down, lifting an arm so that he had a clear view of his lower half.
"Fuck."
He was hard. He was between her legs with an erection all because he could see her nipples through her dress. Quickly, he climbed off of her, scooting to the other side of the bed. His face was burning up and all he could do was pray she would leave and never speak of it ever again. Instead, she shifted back over to him, placing a hand on his arm. Her touch made him flinch.
"Hey, it's okay," she assured, only worsening his embarrassment. "Look, it happens. I'm not mad, if that's what you're thinking."
He studied her from the corner of his eye. "You're not?"
"No, of course not. I'm just sorry that I was the cause of it." She paused, dropping her jaw slightly. "I mean, I was the cause of it, right? Because if not-"
"Yes, you were the cause of it," he interrupted, making her press her lips together.
"Right," she muttered. "Sorry."
He dismissed her apology with a shake of his head. "Can I have a little while to myself, please?"
"Oh," she said, raising her eyebrows in realization of what he meant as she repeated, "Oh. Yeah, of course you can. I should have left a long time ago. It's painful for you, right? On second thought, you don't have to answer that. It's really none of my business how uncomfortable boners are. I mean, maybe one day-"
"Felicity," he cut off again.
"Right," she whispered, beginning to back away. She stopped short, turning back to face him. "Okay, I have this crazy idea."
"Yeah?" he prompted, wondering what was so important that she couldn't wait to say once he took care of his situation.
She clasped her hands in front of her, sliding back to her early place by his side and speaking into his ear. "What if I helped?"
He turned to look at her, trying to figure out if his brain was playing tricks on him. "Helped with what?"
Her lips parted to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she placed a hand over him through his jeans, applying not nearly enough pressure for him. Still, he groaned, closing his eyes as he nodded his agreement.
"Yes, help," he breathed, hearing her chuckle.
He could feel her hands as they worked to undo his button and then the slight friction as she tugged his zipper down. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding when she tugged his pants down to his knees, freeing him from the tight confines of the denim. His boxers were next to slide down, gathering around his jeans. He heard the sound of a gasp when he was revealed to her completely, hiding his smirk behind a growl.
Her fingers were cold as they wrapped around him, moving along him with hesitance. It was clear she was new at this, but he liked the way she sought out his approval by twisting her hand around him, or applying slight pressure. His hands fisted the sheets, attempting to get used to the true sensation it was to not be causing the pleasure to himself. He felt her thumb at the head of his erection, spreading the slight moisture that had gathered there around. He grit his teeth, already feeling his orgasm coming on. He knew that had a lot more to do with the fact that it was Felicity doing this, than just her natural talent.
"Am I doing alright?" she asked, voice small with uncertainty.
"Yes, you are doing perfect," he told her, bucking into her hand. "Fuck, Felicity."
He could feel how his words fed her confidence as she began stroking him faster. She went from base to tip, switching the pace every so often to keep him on the edge. His orgasm struck him seconds later, and he reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand to avoid emptying himself onto her. She seemed surprised by his abrupt movements, sitting back on the bed as she watched him.
He clenched his teeth together, stopping himself just in time from calling out her name. He wasn't sure how well she would react to that. He cleaned himself up, tossing the used tissue into the waste bin by his bedside. He pulled his boxers and pants up, collapsing onto his back next to her. His breaths were still coming out in short huffs, the heels of his hands rubbing circles into his eyes to try and steady his racing heart.
"Was that the first time you've gotten-"
"Yeah," he answered, already knowing what she was going to ask. "And that was the first time you've-"
"Yup," she said, making him nod his head. "How did I do?"
He uncovered his face, glancing at her. "I don't have anything to compare it to, but I'm pretty sure that was the best hand job anyone has ever given."
She blushed, looking down. "Thank you. I just wanted to see what it would be like. I hope you don't mind that I tried it out on you. I just, um, saw an opportunity."
"No, of course not," he assured. "In fact, I'd rather you try out anything you want to on me."
She laughed, making him smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Please do."
There was a moment of silence where he attempted to regulate his breathing and she tapped her fingers against his wrist. The moment was comforting for him, and he could feel his eyelids getting heavier by the minute.
"Hey, Oliver?"
"Hmm?"
"This doesn't change our friendship, right? Because I really don't know how I'm going to explain to my mom that the reason I can't come over here anymore is because I gave her best friend's son a hand job."
He chuckled, opening his eyes into hers. "No, this doesn't change our friendship. I don't want you to think I'll be expecting this now, because I won't. I get that this was a one-time thing."
"Thank you," she murmured, tangling her fingers with his.
The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he held her hand, eyes closing in exhaustion. "You're welcome."
There was a beat before Felicity spoke up again. "Oliver, are you going to sleep?"
He nodded, rubbing his face into his pillow. "It's been a long week." He opened one eye to look at her. "Are you?"
"I think I'll just watch some TV," she answered, facing him. "Do you mind?"
He shook his head. "Go right ahead."
Despite the television that had increased in volume seconds later, she still ended up falling asleep. It wasn't the first time she had slept in his bed. There were tons of nights where she was forced to sleep in his bed because her parents had had too much to drink. However, this was the first time they had fallen asleep in the same bed with their fingers intertwined.
Oliver had kept his word when he said he wouldn't let what happened between them affect their friendship. He never brought it up, and she went back to telling him all about how dreamy she thought Cooper was. Oliver even attempted at having a girlfriend. Helena Bertinelli was the one to ask him out, claiming that she had liked him for awhile.
Felicity was supportive of his relationship, though she came around a lot less often. He didn't like that very much. In fact, he didn't like that at all. So, he broke up with Helena after a couple weeks of making out in her car and behind the cafeteria, telling himself it was because she was weirdly possessive. Of course, internally, he knew his real reason behind the breakup was Felicity.
Not having her there in his room to babble with her brightly painted nails and pink shaded lips was something that made his stomach twist. That's why as soon as he broke up with Helena, he made sure she was the first to know. Then, gradually, she returned to her weekday visits, making him happier than he ever could have imagined.
Oliver didn't attempt to date anyone else the rest of the year.
And as much as Felicity talked about dating Cooper or any of the other guys that held her attention momentarily, she never acted on those wishes. Oliver was grateful, not sure what to expect from seeing Felicity with another guy. Just the thought made him sick, which he again blamed on the extensiveness of their friendship.
A whole year went by with her holed up in his room on weeknights, helping him with homework he couldn't care less about, and flipping through channels to pick one that wouldn't even hold their attention. His mother questioned him about their relationship, quite frequently, assuming they were fooling around together. He couldn't really blame her, but he always denied it.
One night, they had been laughing over something that had happened at school when she had surprised him completely with a question that he would have never seen coming.
"Did you know that Laurel gave Tommy a blow job?"
He throat had dried instantly, as he slowly began to nod his head. "Tommy told me about it earlier today. Do you think it's true?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "We've all seen how they are with each other. I wouldn't be surprised." She glanced over at him. "Have you ever gotten a…?"
"No," he denied, locking eyes with her. "I haven't."
"Do you want one?"
The breath was knocked out of him as he tried to figure out if he were awake or not. She stared back at him, waiting for a response. He could only nod his head, and try to slow the rush of blood in his veins.
"You did say that if I ever wanted to try something out, I could try it out on you," she reminded him, looking down at her hands.
"I did say that," he agreed, getting to his feet. "Uh, I just want to be sure; this is really happening, right? It just... It doesn't seem real. I mean, I'm pretty sure I've had this dream before, but I always end up waking up right before anything really happens."
She laughed at his uncharacteristic rambling, easing his nerves some with her smile. "Yes, this is real. Or, at least, it's going to be. If you want."
"Yes, I want it to be real," he assured, running a hand through his hair. "Very badly."
Her lips twitched. "Okay."
He glanced around, scanning his room. "Where do you want to do this?"
She smirked at his eagerness, approaching him slowly. He swallowed, studying her every move. She took his hand, guiding him to his bed and into a sitting position. What happened from there - despite how badly he wanted to remember every little detail - was all a big blur for him.
He remembered her kneeling in front of his lap, and working quickly to undo his pants. He remembered her hands on him - the feeling of familiarity surrounding both of them - building him up until he was more than ready. He remembered her tongue sliding along him and swirling around his tip. He remembered the way she took him carefully into her mouth, testing out how much she could handle as he gripped the pillows for restraint.
Honestly, it was over way too fast, but he should have expected as much. The image of her crouching in front of him like that was seared into his brain. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that those few minutes would be consuming his thoughts for a long while.
After he cleaned himself up, he glanced at her, watching as she fixed her lipstick in his mirror. He was still breathless, and pretty convinced that she was the most perfect thing in the universe. He felt as though he owed her something. But not only that.
He wanted to feel her as well. He wanted to taste her. It had been one of his fantasies for as long as he could remember, and the idea of actually pursuing it seemed more realistic than ever at the moment.
"Felicity?" he called, seeing her turn around to look at him. "Can you come over here?"
"Uh, sure," she agreed, getting back onto his bed and leaning back into his thick pillows. "What's up?"
"Well, I was just sitting here thinking about how grateful I am to you," he started, earning a laugh from her. "But what about you?"
"What about me?" she asked, still smiling.
He cleared his throat. "Don't you want me to help you out?"
Her face blanked as she realized what he was asking. "Oh, Oliver, you don't have to-"
"No, I want to," he assured her, looking into her eyes and considering his next words very carefully. "Does this experimentation thing work both ways? Because I'd really like to try some things out myself."
She stared at him for a second, gnawing on her lower lip subtly. "Are you sure? I don't want you to think just because I-"
He exhaled loudly, preventing her from finishing that sentence. "I'm sorry, Felicity. But I've been wanting to do this stuff to you way before you even touched me."
She let out a tiny gasp at his confession, her face heating up. He took that as a good sign and reached for the fabric of her dress. He lifted an eyebrow in question of whether or not it was okay for him to pull it up, receiving a nod from her. With the new permission, he made his way down her body, mentally preparing himself for the things he's been wanting to do for as long as he could remember. He lifted her dress up, a smile breaking out across his face. She sat up on her elbows, looking nervous.
"What is it?"
He shook his head in a grin. "Your underwear matches your fingernails."
She blushed, falling back onto the pillows and covering her face. "Don't make fun of me, okay?"
"I'm not making fun of you," he promised. "I kind of love it."
"You love that my underwear matches my nail color?" She didn't sound too convinced.
He nodded, moving back up her body so that their faces were level with each other. "I do love it. It is just so uniquely you, Felicity."
She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it when his fingers slid under the cotton of her underwear. He groaned when he felt her, just so warm and wet and all because of him. His finger stroked her, building onto the desire that she held for him. All he could think about was how he was the only guy to ever touch her like this. A part of him secretly vowed to be the only guy to ever touch her like this.
He buried his head into her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of it. She always smelled so good, like honey or lavender. And her hair was always so soft, like silk. He could get lost in the deep waves of sunshine that it was. For now, he'd settle for getting his fingers lost inside of her.
"God, Felicity, you are so wet," he murmured, already feeling himself growing hard again.
She let out a whimper, and he dubbed it as his favorite sound in the world. When he entered a finger inside of her, she clutched onto his shirt, begging for more. And as much as he loved staying where he was at so that he could catch every hitch of her breath and every facial expression he caused, the urge to taste her was more insistent.
So, he lowered himself down her body, inhaling the scent of her deeply. He slowly brought down her underwear, rushing downwards to eagerly plant his mouth on her. She cried out at the new sensation, tugging at his hair and making him worry that someone would overhear. He quickly got over that when she breathed out his name, swiping his tongue across her to taste her completely.
"Oliver," she moaned, pressing him deeper into her.
He'd had no experience in doing this before, but by the way she was responding to it, he knew he was doing something right. As he continued to flick a series of nonsense patterns into her with his tongue, his finger kept pumping into her. His name was on a loop from her mouth, giving him the idea to trace it into her. Her body arched when he drew out the first letter of his name, and by the time he got to the last, she was already too far gone.
She came hard and fast, and he shot up to cover her mouth with his own in an effort to silence her screams. It merely muffled the pleasureful cry, but it was enough to ease his nerves about someone overhearing.
It was their second kiss. The last time their lips had met, they had been nine years old and he'd had no idea what he was doing. Now, he knew exactly what to do, and was completely in control. His left hand framed her face as he gently sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She moaned, placing a hand in his hair. As his lips overlapped hers, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She hummed softly, opening her mouth so that he could deepen the kiss. Her tongue crashed against his, as they rapidly got lost in the feel of their lips on each other's.
He knew she could taste herself on him. She didn't react in the slightest to that, and that alone was enough to get him going again. So, he shifted so that his body was hovering over hers slightly, and he could let her feel how much she affected him. Her hips raised from the bed, meeting him in the middle with the pressure he craved. She kissed him harder, and he swore everything else in the world disappeared.
"Felicity," a voice called, followed by a loud rapping on the door.
Oliver and Felicity broke apart instantly, breathless from what could have been an intense make-out session. His right hand was still between her legs, so when she attempted to stand up, the sensation made her legs clamp together. He opened his mouth, shutting it as he pulled his hand away. She blushed dark red, grabbing her underwear from the bed and sliding them on.
"Felicity, sweetie, are you ready to go?" the voice spoke again.
"Um, that's my mom," she unnecessarily told him, making his lips twitch at her nervous state.
"I know," he replied, beginning to get to his feet.
She watched him, hands fidgeting out of anxiousness for whatever it was he was planning on doing.
"Felicity?"
"Yeah, Mom, just a minute!" she shouted, sounding frustrated.
Oliver chuckled, closing the space between them. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow's Saturday," she told him, furrowing her brows.
"I'll be down in the car!" her mother yelled, easing Felicity's nerves about having her right outside his door.
Oliver crossed his arms, looking down. "Oh, did you have plans for tomorrow?"
"Um, I was going to go to Cooper's party. He invited me today and said he wanted to hang out with me there. Sara told me he wants to ask me out."
"Sara lies," he responded, shaking his head in an effort to ward off the jealousy that was coursing through him. "Uh, I'm sorry. Have a great time."
She extended a hand towards him, stopping him from walking away. "Well, what are you doing tomorrow?"
"I'm probably just going to stay in. Maybe I'll got to Tommy's."
"That sounds fun." She gave him a small smile. "I'll see you soon, okay?"
He nodded his head, going back over to his bed to think about what had just happened. One thing kept going through his mind, and that was the idea of Felicity and Cooper. He just didn't understand what it was about that guy that made her still want to be something more than friends with him.
Cooper didn't deserve her. Cooper didn't even deserve to look at her. So while he was sitting at home missing her, she was just going to be flirting with Cooper? No, Oliver didn't like that thought at all. If that was ever going to be prevented, he needed to accept the fact that he had fallen for Felicity Smoak.
Felicity Smoak, his first kiss. The girl who shoved him in the dirt after he called her stupid in front of Tommy when they were seven. The girl who taught him how to tie his shoes because his parents never saw to it. The girl who made him feel like he wasn't a complete idiot when it came to school like everyone else did. The girl who had given him his first hand job without him even asking.
Felicity Smoak, the first girl he's ever loved.
The only girl he's ever loved.
If there were one thing he'd never regret, it was sneaking out of his house later that night to go see Felicity. He got into his car, and began the drive over to his best friend's house. It was a short drive, five minutes at most, but he took a long time to consider what it was he was going to say to her.
He still didn't have a clue as he pulled up to her curb, killing the engine and hopping out onto her lawn. Her room light was on, the rest of the house completely dark. He ran up to the side of the house, climbing up the ladder that had been left there by the painters. His steps were balanced as he walked along the slanted rooftop, over to her balcony.
His feet hit the wood with a thud once he knew the jump was safe, and he cursed at the shot of pain that ran up his leg from his clumsy landing. One glance into her room, and he knew she still hadn't seen him.
Felicity was sitting in front of her mirror, fingers placed over her lips at the small smile that was formed there. He watched her for a second, studying the way she gently traced her lips, her face flushed. She was wearing an over-sized t-shirt with their school's mascot on it, and he could just barely see the ends of her shorts. Her hair was down and wavy, just like it had been earlier when he had his face buried in it. What really made his heart stop though, was the glasses that were perched upon her nose.
God, he had missed those.
Deciding he had creeped long enough, Oliver rapped his knuckles against her glass door. Her head immediately snapped over in his direction, expression frightened. Her features softened when she recognized him, quickly getting to her feet to slide open the door for him. He smiled gratefully at her, stepping in and taking a seat on her bed.
"Hey," he breathed, setting his hands on his knees.
She stared at him questioningly. "Hey... Um, what are you doing at my house? Actually, what are you doing in my room?"
"I wanted to see you," he explained, studying her reaction to his words. "After the way we left things, I-"
"You what?" she interrupted, crossing her arms. "Oliver, you can't just show up at my house in the middle of the night because you want to talk."
"Why not?"
She scoffed. "Maybe because if my mom came up here and saw you she would literally kill me."
"If my mom knew I snuck out of the house, she would kill me, too," he informed her, shrugging. "Those were risks I was willing to take."
She sighed, and he knew he had defeated her. "Okay, what is it?"
"Don't go to Cooper's party tomorrow," he blurted, knowing that stating it out loud and clear was the only way to do it.
She froze, remaining silent for a lot longer than Oliver was comfortable with. When she spoke again, her voice was small and unsure.
"Why?"
Oliver stood up, facing her. "Because I'm pretty sure that my entire life has been a series of days leading up to me falling in love with you. And I realize that now, Felicity. I wanted to kiss you when we were nine. I didn't do it because I wanted to piss you off. No, I did it because I didn't want Cooper to be your first kiss. I wanted to be your first kiss, just like I wanted you to be mine. Then when you got your boyfriend, I was so confused by the way I felt. I had never been jealous before except for when you would talk about Cooper. And then when you broke up with that guy, I felt as though a weight had been lifted off of me. Because then, I wouldn't have to worry about him touching you, or kissing you, or making your nose crinkle up in that adorable way it does whenever you laugh."
He paused, giving her the opportunity to say something. She didn't, so he continued.
"I tried to date other people, hoping that it would knock me out of whatever haze I was in. That's why I dated Helena. But whenever she would kiss me, I would find myself wishing it was you. I never took her to my house, and I wouldn't even consider taking her into my room, because my room is us. My room is all of our stupid fights and made up stories and silly games. My room is where you gave me my first kiss, among several other very inappropriate first things."
That got her to laugh, and he was happy with that reaction. He slid his hands up her arms until they rested on her cheeks, framing her face and forcing her to look at him.
"I don't want you to go to Cooper's party, because I want you to come to my party. It's just me, and you're the only one invited."
She let out a breath, and he found himself holding his. "Will there be snacks?"
He laughed, relief flooding his body. "Even better. There will be a fancy dinner at the restaurant of your choosing."
"With mint chocolate chip ice cream afterwards?" she asked.
"As much as you can eat," he assured.
She smiled. "I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be then."
He took that as his opportunity to kiss her, letting every single emotion he'd ever felt for her pour into it. He could have stood there all night, just kissing her, and he would have been happy. But it was late, and he knew he needed to get home before his mom found out he was gone. He also didn't want her mom finding him up there and punishing Felicity for it. And besides, he had a big day planned for tomorrow.
"I have to go," he murmured, brushing her hair back behind her ear.
"Okay," she said, nodding. "Uh, what time should I be at your place tomorrow?"
He smirked. "I'll come pick you up here at six. Is that fine?"
"It's perfect."
He let out a breath, admiration in his eyes. "I'd kiss you again, but I'm afraid I won't be able to leave if I do."
"You can kiss me tomorrow," she promised.
Oliver stepped back on the balcony, giving her one last look-over. "I really missed you wearing your glasses, Felicity."
He was gone and missed the way she dove onto her bed, shrieking out of joy into her pillow.
"You know, Oliver and Felicity are out on a date tonight," Donna informed Moira, taking a sip of her martini.
Moira raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so that's what they're calling it?"
"Well, that's what Felicity's calling it at least." Donna set her glass down. "What did Oliver tell you?"
Moira shrugged. "He just said he was going out with Felicity for a while. I didn't think much of it considering how close they are."
"Felicity told me he kissed her," Donna said, clapping her hands together excitedly. "You owe me fifty bucks."
"What if it was just a friendly kiss? We don't know for sure."
"Oh, please," Donna muttered, rolling her eyes. "You act like you're going to notice it's missing. I bet you they would get together in high school, while you predicted college. Just admit that I won, and hand over my fifty bucks."
"Fine," Moira agreed, reaching out her purse and pulling out a stack of hundreds. "Do you have change for a hundred?"
Donna laughed, triggering Moira's. "How about you keep the money, and we go double or nothing?"
"Okay," she agreed, taking a drink from her glass. "What's the bet?"
"I bet you they'll get married before they finish college."
Moira furrowed her brows, shaking her head. "Oliver would never get married that young."
"Hey, when you know, you know."
"No, they'll definitely wait to get married until after they've finished college."
They shook on their bet, changing topics, and finishing off their drinks. When the time finally came, it didn't matter who had won the bet. All that mattered was that Oliver and Felicity got married.
And Donna sure loved that $100 dress she bought.
A/N: Hope you guys liked this! Don't forget to leave that review! :)
Oh, and also, I was thinking about accepting prompts for one-shots for Oliver and Felicity. If you have any, feel free to send me a PM. Thanks!