Short drabble from the prompt of Oliver and Felicity doing 'domestic' things. Will update occasionally. Most are longer than this...
"Oliver!" Felicity screeched, pulling another moldy container out of the small apartment size fridge in the lair.
The man in question was at her side in an instant. "What? What is it?"
"I thought you were going to clean this out," Felicity answered with a look of disgust on her face at the container she'd just opened. "Ugh, it looks like a science experiment gone wrong in there."
"I got…busy," Oliver answered.
Felicity narrowed her eyes at him. "We all had an agreement when we got the fridge— that we would not let this place turn into a frat house."
Oliver chuckled, but when Felicity's face betrayed no hint of amusement, he sobered quickly. "I'm sorry, I'll get it taken care of."
Felicity nodded, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and returning to her seat behind her wall of computer screens. She stole glances at him as he dutifully emptied the fungus filled containers (she may have smirked at the sour expression on his face, but she hid it well). Felicity watched as his muscles flexed cleaning out the containers in the sink. She cleared her throat and focused her attention back to the computer, wondering idly if perhaps this was the first time Oliver had ever done dishes.
It had been a momentary frustration, and now Felicity almost felt bad about yelling at him. But the lair had been turning into the aftermath of a high school party recently and if there was one thing Felicity could not handle, it was crumbs in her keyboard. (Well, to be more precise it was rats and mice in the lair, but she couldn't even bring herself to think about that.) But Oliver finished quickly with the dishes and then went to work picking up the discarded t-shirts that littered the floor and counters.
He walked them back to the washing machine and then called to Felicity. "Do we have laundry soap?"
Felicity smiled behind her computer screen, lifting her head just enough for her eyes to meet his across the room. "Should be in the cabinet over there," she answered back, watching him turn back and look. When he came up empty handed, Felicity stood, her heels clacking across the floor as she joined him by the washing machine. Pulling open the only cabinet that Oliver had failed to open, she produced the detergent and handed it to him.
Oliver cleared his throat, keeping her from leaving. "How much do I use?" he asked, seeming a bit embarrassed.
Felicity took the detergent, peered into the washer to gauge the amount of clothing and then filled the cap to the first line. "There you go," she said with a smile.
"Thanks," Oliver said, taking the cap and bottle from her, their hands brushing on both accounts. They were standing close, too close, if Felicity were being honest.
"You, uh… might want to take that one off," she said, her eyes slowly meeting Olivers. "I just mean, you uh, must have spilled something on it when you were cleaning out the fridge." She turned bright red. "You should wash it right away to keep the stain from setting."
Oliver nodded, dumping the soap into the washer, replacing the cap and pulling his shirt off all in one quick motion. Felicity swallowed hard, averting her eyes and taking a step back. She felt their closeness even more now.
"Okay," she said, hooking her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm just going to… go over there, and get back to work."
And as she turned to head back to her computer, she thought, for just the briefest moment, that she saw an amused smirk on Oliver's face, content that he'd gotten her back for yelling at him. Felicity took her seat back at her computer and one thought stuck in her mind. "Touché, Mr. Queen," she said under her breath. "Touché."