The Luckiest
. . .
Summary: The Queen family throws a majestic costume ball for the children's foundation every summer, of course Felicity has read about it in the tabloids—it's the most coveted invitation of the year in Starling City—but she never fathomed actually being invited.
Note: I've just been itching for something sort of sweet, and romantic—the fic equivalent of a white cupcake with the glittery sprinkles and so uh, this would be that. Also, I went to a wedding over the summer when I started this and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The title was yanked directly from the Ben Folds song, The Luckiest, mostly because all Olicity feels it gives me.
. . .
"Wow." Felicity mouthed in awe, as she looked around the room glittering with the indulgent wealth of the most affluent of Starling City, dazed by the relative fame that almost made her forget she wasn't just flipping through the latest pages of US Weekly on her lunch break, or furtively reading about Kate Middleton and pretending that she didn't have just a minuscule princess fantasy.
She fingered her gold pocketbook a little nervously, tucking a blonde tendril behind her ear and just taking it in. It looked like a dream. The high ceilings of the Queen Estate seemed to sparkle with lights, and through the room people were laughing, while well-dressed bus boys made rounds through the room with silver platters and flutes of champagne and a string quartet played music that sounded familiar, but whose name she couldn't place.
As she circled the room, trying to find Oliver or Digg she tried to not feel self-conscious about the fact that her dress-a major splurge for her by the way-was probably not a quarter of the cost of some of the other women's' in the room.
No, stop right there Felicity Smoake. The not so little voice in her head admonished her. Self-conscious is not sexy. Sexy girls do not compare themselves to other girls.
She sighed, stopping and nearly stumbling when she tried to grab a glass of champagne and gave up. It was probably not a good idea to make this any more challenging.
Okay, right, she told herself. But this is nerves, the stiletto thing is—this is really new. Never mind being invited out to parties with billionaires, never mind a billionaire that is also your boss and sometimes also an emerald garbed vigilante with a smile that makes you go all tingly and a six pack that could cut glass...
"Oh my God." Felicity said out loud as she realized that her mind was going someplace entirely, completely not where it should be.
She smoothed her hands down against the skirt of her dress. The gown was beautiful, as soon as she had tried it on, she knew she had to have it—even if it was only for one night. It was a period masterpiece of pearly fabric, with yards of gauze and ivory silk dupioni that grazed over the tips over a pair of beautiful heels of the same color that would never see the outside of her closet again.
That is, if she survived the night in them.
It wasn't until she saw the creamy corset that she fell in love. Tied snugly, with an old necklace of gold and pearls from her grandmother just above her breasts, the shoulders of the dress curving across her slim arms gracefully….
Well, she had felt special. However, that was in the relative privacy of her apartment, not surrounded by hundreds of beautiful and rich women with confident smiles, flirtatious giggles, and perfect hair—when she just had not been able to get that one patch of curls to lay just right.
Somehow, she hadn't imagined that this party would make her this nervous, or that Oliver Queen would be this hard to find. Felicity figured, this being his party…well, he had to be in attendance somewhere.
Or maybe, he took off forever and a day ago to go kick in some bad guy's heads and put the fear of god into someone on the wrong end of the stick.
To her chagrin, she jumped when she felt someone tap on her shoulder and call out her name.
Whoa, Felicity, it is a party. Try to relax, she told herself.
"Sorry." Digg said, with a warm smile that couldn't help but make her feel better. "Are you okay? You look just….stunning."
"Yes-No…" Felicity took a breath, realizing she was still holding her hand over her chest. "Sorry, I'm a little…"
"Jumpy?" Digg supplied, "You looked like you were waiting for someone to attack you."
"Huh-What?" Felicity asked, blinking in confusion because she was a little bit distracted by the blood rushing her ears. "You look nice. Your costume is really authentic."
Digg was dressed in a costume that seemed reminiscent of Marc Anthony in any reincarnation of the Shakespeare play. His muscular chest, and massive biceps were clearly in attendance, as were the tall laced sandals—and to her surprise, even the roman-style skirt. He had pulled out all the stops.
"Where's you're uh…gun?" Felicity gestured, unable to guess where he could be hiding it.
"Never too far." Digg chuckled, resting his hand on her back as he directed her. "Is this your first high society party?"
He steered her around a train of girls in big dresses, who were heading out to the veranda where Felicity saw what looked like a towering fountain of—what she only could assume was—champagne.
"Am I that obvious?" Felicity asked, "Yes, yeah definitely. A little nervous. I was in my car for twenty minutes making sure that I had my invitation."
"That explains it." Digg said with a nod of his head. "Oliver was waiting to escort you in and introduce you to a few people but he was dragged away."
"Right, Oliver." Felicity said with a nod of her head, still not chancing to snag a glass of champagne from the passing waiters. "Where is um—our fearless leader? Amazing the masses? Altering the course of life as we know it?"
Dancing with Laurel Lance, maybe? She thought.
Felicity glanced away from his eyes, afraid he might see something that might be akin to too much curiosity about Oliver and his whereabouts.
Not that it mattered, because it totally wasn't even like that. Oliver invited her, and she only wanted to thank him for the opportunity that this would give her to further her career and impress the bosses and—oh, who the hell are you kidding Felicity Megan Smoak? The only person you want to impress tonight is Oliver Queen.
"You didn't see him?" Digg rested his hand on her back and laughed, turning her around so that they were facing the stage.
Digg chuckled, apparently having access to a joke that went over her head.
The orchestra seemed to disperse temporarily, and in front of their stage; and through a crowd of fancy coiffed hair and flawless highlights—Felicity couldn't help but to notice that these women didn't seem to forget to schedule a hair appointment—she glimpsed what she thought resembled Oliver with a harem of women around him, and his head thrown back in a laugh, glass of champagne raised to the crowd.
Well, of course he's having fun. It's a party, not everyone is sitting around in the corner hiding and wondering if they should have stayed home and watched Season Two of Game of Thrones on DVD.
When she looked back at him again though, still smiling she felt like there was something….not quite right. It wasn't frequent, but she'd seen him smile, she'd even seen him laugh and something seemed to be missing from it.
"That's…wow. Oliver's popular." Felicity said, "I mean not that I didn't think he wouldn't be. He's famous, and you know rich…and not that that I pay attention, because girls like rich, attractive men and not that that's why I'm here…I'm just…"
I'm just babbling…
In a sort of horror, Felicity just shook her head and tried to shut her mouth. Once she finally managed to stop talking, she turned away from Oliver's direction and glanced in the direction of the door.
"I have got to get out more." She said in a small voice, more to herself than Digg.
"C'mon," John nodded his head, "Oliver was waiting for you to get here."
"Oh." Felicity said, thinking that maybe she should have worn more sensible shoes. "Right. Of course."
Of course he'd need his tech girl. Oliver was one-hundred percent mission guy not take-a-night-off-and-have-a-party and invite tech girl for maybe a dance in his really pretentious and incredibly stunning garden.
Okay, now you've officially snapped. Your life is not a romantic comedy, deal with it.
"Oliver!" Digg called, waving to him through the crowd and gesturing toward her as they tried to slip through the inner circle.
Oliver broke away from the tall brunette who had been flirting with him in the sort of sultry way that made Felicity feel unreasonably jealous and a little envious—because they weren't even like that anyways—because she knew she couldn't do that without looking like a fool, and he slipped away seeming to part the crowd easily and gracefully.
Disappointment was etched on the faces of the women in the crowd as he walked away, and maybe even—Felicity regarded with a touch of amusement—jealousy, when they realized he was coming to talk to her.
Was this the karmic payback for being a geek in high school? If so—Felicity gave a glance upwards—maybe you do know what you're doing. Eat your heart out, Heather Jackson.
She found herself wondering how Oliver did it, as he walked toward them. It seemed so effortless.
And then…that costume. Felicity bit down on her lip hard to stop from laughing. He looked utterly ridiculous, and that was in comparison to what he donned in nights that ended in 'y'.
"If Jack Sparrow and the Green Giant had a love child, it would fight…whatever it would fight….dressed like that." Felicity felt all her nervous energy expel itself in a breath, as she surveyed his costume and tried to stifle a laugh.
Robin Hood? Really? Like no one was going to make that connection?
"Hidden in plain sight." He winked at her, gesturing her way with the carved bow that hung over his shoulders. "Truly, one may not do as nobly one's self, but in the striving one is better..."
"What, did you forget the hood?" Felicity questioned him in a whisper, surprised by Oliver's costume, even more so by his quoting of a turn of the century novel.
Oliver seemed to be full of surprises tonight, and didn't do so bad for a guy who dropped out of about half a dozen colleges.
"It's getting the night off." He said with a twinkle in his eyes.
He really didn't do anything halfway, but then again this was a guy who patrolled the streets with green leather and a compound bow.
Digg rolled his eyes,
"That costume was all his stupid idea. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a very sexy Cleopatra who is waiting and willing."
"Have a good night, Digg." Oliver said, lifting his hand goodbye.
Felicity knew that she should have probably said something, but between Oliver's hand on the small curve of her back leading her along the smooth marble floors, and the overwhelmed feeling she was getting from said hand on her back…
Well, she was trying desperately to keep it together.
Digg turned and slipped away into the crowd, invisible to them as the crowd closed around him.
"You look absolutely stunning Ms. Smoak," Oliver tipped his head to her, and offered his arm. "What sort of gentleman would I be to not escort the lady?"
"I don't think Robin Hood was much of a gentleman." Felicity said as she took his arm.
"And yet Maid Marian was so loyally devoted to him all the while." Oliver responded, tapping the bow against his chest without missing a beat.
Felicity gathered the skirt of her dress up in her hand, walking carefully along the marble floors with him and focusing on a sort of grace that a night this remarkably romantic and lovely was worthy of.
. . .
"You mind looks busy." Oliver told her, with a studied smile, handing her a glass of champagne that he seemed to make materialize out of thin air.
"I was late. Sorry." Felicity fingered the delicate crystal flute carefully, wondering if maybe adding alcohol to the mix was a bad idea.
When Oliver leaned toward her, his breath tickling her ear Felicity was so nervous she felt her breath catch in her chest.
Well just pretend that was the corset, right, and not that you are heartbreakingly in love with him.
He was so incredibly handsome, and up close he smelled of cedar and sea salt.
"Relax." He whispered.
When he straightened his back, he was smiling at her again. It was with a little tickle of pleasure that she realized this smile wasn't like the laugh he gave the tall, leggy brunettes in front of the stage. That had been a laugh for show, this was his genuine smile.
He was happy. More than that, and this made a feeling of excitement and nervous anxiety tumble around in her chest, he was happy to be with her.
No, no. Don't jump. Take it slow, and assess the situation carefully. He is your friend, you work together…
"You look beautiful, by the way. Not that you don't always." Oliver took a sip of his champagne.
And he's making every ounce of sense you have—had—melt away.
It was somewhere after her third sip of champagne and sometime before she'd lost count of the time Oliver had spent smiling next to her; she fantasized about his lips against hers, his hands twisted up in the fabric of her dress…
Great job at taking it slow and not jumping to anything rash, Felicity.
"Digg said that you were looking for me." Felicity swallowed nervously, deciding it would be best to cover all bases. How embarrassing would it be to think he was spending time with her because he liked her, when all he really needed was some tech work?
She would die.
"So is there some work to do, or…"
"What have they done to you?" The corner of Oliver's lips turned up in amusement, and he chuckled. "No, no work Felicity. Tonight we try to enjoy ourselves. We dine and dance to your heart's content."
"Really, because you weren't really looking like you were enjoying your harem of beautiful women." Felicity said, feeling like she'd gotten her voice back for the first time that night as she walked across the crowded ballroom with Oliver.
She tried to hide the smile as she teased him, but Oliver caught it and chuckled.
"Oh, so now she's a funny genius." Oliver commented wryly. "Got it all out of your system now?"
"Yes." Felicity tried to stifle a giggle as he rolled his eyes as her.
"Did you eat?" Oliver asked her.
"No." Felicity shook her head, biting down on her lip before she tried to explain that eating didn't seem like a good idea before lacing up a corset, and once she was in the dress, it seemed like a very bad idea to try and eat something without making a tragedy out of the night.
She took another sip of her champagne, stunned by how delicious it was. This night was starting to feel sort of like a dream.
"I know something that you'll love." Oliver curved his arm around her waist and leading her along. "Someone that I'd love for you to meet, as a matter of fact."
Felicity just hoped to god that the mysterious meeting wasn't with the elusive Mrs. Queen—she really wasn't cut out for that, especially not after all this champagne.
As they left the ballroom, Felicity found new things—sights and people to be in awe over. The long hallway was sheathed with warm, buttery lighting, and shiny baubles. The high staircase was bathed in golden light that poured in from the window at the top, and in the light two figures were detectable leaning against the railing—and, as Felicity turned to watch them—kissing like they were the stars of their own love story.
She smiled as she watched them, it was sweet.
It wasn't until she felt Oliver tense up next to her, his attention falling in the same direction that she was looking in, that she realized Romeo and Juliet were Roy and Thea.
Well, that's kind of fitting. Felicity thought, Oliver really did seem to dislike Roy was a fiery passion. That story didn't end so well, though.
When Oliver pulled away from her, Felicity grabbed his hand and when he turned back to look at her she was stunned for a moment, not quite what she was going to tell him.
Didn't look like this was going to end so well either.
Somehow, she didn't quite think that 'don't' was going to take, but she felt badly for Thea. This was a fairy tale sort of night, and no one's fairy tale deserved to be disrupted by big brother trying to throw their boyfriend out, or a fight between two testosterone laden males trying to mark their territory.
"Let me guess?" Oliver said, in a disgruntled tone. "You're going to tell me I'm being an over-protective brother and I should let her live her life—because she is eighteen after all. It's hardly any of my business."
"No." Felicity shook her head, she never even fathomed that argument would work on Oliver. "Currently she is in the middle of this crowded staircase, people gliding up and down the stairs, lingering in the hallways—as we are—however, if you run up those stairs and start trying to expel her boyfriend from the party and her life, they are going to reconvene in one of two places."
Oliver looked at her in confusion. "What?"
"You kick him out, and they will be going at it in either this house or his." Felicity said bluntly. "I'm sure he owns a bed."
Oliver scrunched his eyes shut, obviously unwilling to even consider the idea.
"I was eighteen once too." Felicity said with a bright smile, "Cut her a break, she's in love, Oliver."
"Let's just stop—stop talking about it." He turned, wrenching them away from the sight of the pair, and pulled Felicity along. "We have a date in the kitchen after all."
"Precisely." Felicity said, feeling a sort of dry anxiety in her throat at Oliver's use of the word 'date'.
They slipped into the kitchen, avoiding a long line of waiters in tuxedos, and Oliver led her past many tables filled with goblets of alcohol, and delicious looking appetizers that she couldn't quite identify and pastries and desserts that looked too pretty to eat.
Oliver kept searching the kitchen though; obviously knowing what he was looking for, until they reached the very back. This housed a much smaller section that seemed to be unused for the party and a small, but attractive older woman with dark hair swept up into a bun, who seemed to be directing a small army in pleasantly accented English.
This was clearly who Oliver has been trying to find, Felicity concluded and was lost again as soon as they reached her. Oliver started to speak to the woman in a rapid succession of words that sounded like they could be Russian.
Whatever it was he said, the woman seemed delighted and kissed him on the cheek, responding in more (presumably) Russian.
"Tch! Shame on you, naughty boy." She turned to Felicity, speaking now in accented English. "I've heard such lovely things about you, the wonderful Felicity! No, I must say the beautiful Ms. Felicity, you are by far the prettiest of the young ladies here tonight—that dress—like a princess."
Felicity felt her cheeks flush.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms…."
"No, no, no…" She shook her head, and swatted Oliver with a cloth. "Your manners are better than that!"
"Of course." Oliver nodded his head in concession to Raisa . "Felicity, this is Raisa , she is the not only the best cook in Starling City but—"
"Ha!" Raisa exclaimed, "He butters me up when he wants something. Just like when he was a little boy. He thinks that those sweet dimples and big eyes can get him anything."
"I know the feeling." Felicity said with a laugh, happy that Oliver had brought her back here to meet Raisa .
She was a comfortable sort of person to be around.
"He is a good boy though," Raisa patted him on the cheek fondly, and gestured with her finger. "He tries to fool us all sometimes, but my Ollie is an angel."
Quickly, Oliver said something again in Russian, and Raisa laughed.
"I'm embarrassing him in front of the pretty girl."
Felicity's cheeks burned hot again. Raisa clearly was misconstruing their relationship.
"I saved them for you just like I promised." Raisa told Oliver, "Your sister tried to snake them away, but…"
Raisa shook her head, "She had no such luck."
"Because I'm your favorite?" Oliver said, grinning a dazzling white smile.
"No." Raisa shook her head, a swift sharp move of disagreement. "Because I fear that if her young man was discovered eating your pastilla something tragic would happen, and we've only just gotten you back."
"He's just looking for an excuse." Felicity said, in a conspiratorial whisper to Raisa .
She laughed, nudging Felicity's arm. "Oh, he is right. I do like you."
"Raisa …" Oliver groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, a smile seemingly stuck on his face.
"And you, such a little thing! Have you eaten? Are you hungry? Dinner isn't going to be served until seven—I have some pelmini that just was cooked." Raisa said, "I'm sure you're both hungry. Oliver is always hungry."
Felicity was tempted to lie, and say otherwise when Raisa turned toward the stove and lifted the cover off of a pot. It smelled delicious.
"Starved." Felicity said, at the same time that Oliver nodded his head in agreement, "Please."
"I'll make a nice basket." Raisa said, "He'll take you out to the West garden to eat, it's very beautiful and it's blocked off to the guests. It's not filled with that ostentatious fountain either."
"I know." Oliver nodded his head in agreement. "That was my plan. Mom says that the fountain is a crowd favorite though."
"So is communism and public executions, ah?" Raisa gave him a pointed look, "This Robin Hood look, are you trying to make a statement to the magazines, Ollie? What will they say? Why do you insist on being so stubborn? Why do you have to encourage those awful people."
"It is a charity ball, isn't it?" Oliver said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "This is the gift that keeps on giving for the media."
"That's not funny." Felicity told him, "They're just going to mock you all week because of this."
"I guess it's a good thing I've got Cinderella to protect me." Oliver said in a low voice, a grin at the corner of his mouth as he glanced down at her.
Oh, he was getting sort of smug about having his own personal hacker now, was he?
Raisa harrumphed, clearly not buying into his story, nor finding him very funny.
"You be careful of this one," Raisa said, turning to look at Felicity with a firm nodding of her head.
She packed away a container of the pelmieni, little half oval pasta looking things that smelled good enough to make Felicity's stomach growl, along with some white plates and shining flatware.
"His excuses are loh!" Raisa turned to Oliver and wagged his finger.
"You break my heart Raisa ," Oliver said, "And that language—you would have put soap in my mouth when I was a boy."
"Well, you're a grown man now," Raisa said, slipping a bottle of champagne into the basket. "A grown man with stupid, stupid excuses."
"I've noticed." Felicity said with a nod of her head. "I've heard my share of them."
"But I'm pure of heart, it's what counts, doesn't it Raisa ?"
Raisa gave him a look of disgust before throwing her hands up in the air.
"Oh, so I'm not the only one he makes feel that way." Felicity laughed, and nodded her head. "That makes me feel better."
"Smart girl." Raisa nodded her head in approval, "I like this one very much, Oliver."
"I'm kind of fond of her myself." Oliver said, as he took the basket, "Thank you, Raisa ."
"Tch," She shook off his thanks. "Stay out of trouble. That is how you thank me."
"Of course. Don't I always?"
Raisa laughed, "Behave. I can sleep well if I don't open my newspaper in the morning and find your face splashed across the cover with awful things being said."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Oliver told her, "I hardly rate the front page anymore."
Felicity stifled a groan of annoyance with him, which was quickly replaced as he placed his free hand on her back to lead her in the direction of the gardens.
. . .
Garden? Felicity could have laughed if she wasn't so stunned by his poor description. The Starling City Botanical Gardens were practically a green patch of grass in comparison to this.
Tall, white stone walls encircled an endless amount of lush, colorful shrubbery and ancient looking trees. Dark green ivy with white speckles covered the walls, and when she looked up—the few times she could peel her glance from the beauty around them—a small flock of birds flew over their head.
Her shoes clicked on the stone pathway that Oliver led her down, and as he took her arm, she couldn't help but to think that it would be nearly impossible for any night to top this one.
"There's a gazebo just around the pond." Oliver said, "There's a table, and seats…so your dress won't be ruined."
"No one ever told me that Robin Hood was so chivalrous." Felicity laughed, stepping carefully between the stones.
These shoes were not meant for all terrain.
"Not only that, but a good dancer as well." Oliver's eyes twinkled playfully as he brought her to a small bridge that crossed the pond.
Oliver twirled her, and she was surprised with how easy it was. He made her feel graceful and elegant. As Felicity looked past the pond, and the tall marble pedestals with crowning lions on either side of the pond, and down again she realized that Oliver hadn't dropped her hand after twirling her.
"It's just up here." Oliver gestured with the hand that held the picnic basket.
"That is not a gazebo." Felicity said, shaking her head in a sort of awe.
"Do you have a better word for it?" Oliver asked her.
"I don't know. But you don't get to refer to…" Felicity gestured to it with a wide eyed look. "This garden is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."
"I've seen more stunning sights." Oliver mused quietly.
Felicity was lost in the sight of the white marble gazebo. The top of the ceiling was rounded out with a black wrought iron design, looking like something out of a Shakespearean play. As Oliver led her up the steps, she couldn't help but to linger for a moment and just take in the garden.
"It was my dad's favorite place." Oliver said, coming up behind her after placing the basket on the table. "He used to come out here to think a lot. As Thea got older, she used to have tea parties around the pond."
"And what about Oliver?" Felicity smiled wryly as she turned and found herself pressed against his chest.
Her cheeks flushed with warmth as his hand brushed against her arm. Oliver smiled, stepping back with a little glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Felicity was certain that he must know exactly what it did when he smiled like that, how it made someone feel under the gentle caress of his hands—how in this fairytale of a garden she was letting her mind consider things that she wouldn't have in any other rational place or time.
"He eats." Oliver took her hand, and led her over to the table.
"Wow." Felicity covered a little chuckle that escaped as Oliver served her. First with the wine, and then the plate of pelmini. "So this is what Oliver Queen looks like in action."
"You've seen me at work." Oliver's eyebrows furrowed together, "You know, those nights…what we do—it's easier than this."
Oliver slipped into the seat across from her and took a sip of wine.
"Well, that's understandable." Felicity said with a nod of her head, "I imagine you haven't had much experience with putting on tights."
"They're not tights." Oliver said with a shake of his head.
Felicity raised an eyebrow at that.
"They're green tights."
"They're microfiber pants." Oliver said, before swallowing a spoonful of the Ukrainian pasta. "That's incredible. She's a genius."
"Wow, now I'm a little jealous." Felicity said, letting the tights thing go. "I thought that comment was doled out with reservation."
"Felicity Smoak has a jealous side." Oliver laughed, "C'mon, take a bite and tell me I'm wrong."
He pierced a piece of the pasta on the fork, and held it to her mouth. Felciity gave in to him, not that she could do anything else with this strange dumpling like pasta as long as he was offering it up so surely…and she just folded. As much as she hated to concede to him, it was maybe the most delicious thing she'd ever eaten.
"This is amazing." Felicity managed after finishing the dumpling. "I'm never going to be able to look at food the same way again."
"Like I said." Oliver remarked with a wave of his arm.
"Don't take it too far." Felicity told him, "It doesn't make you right about everything."
"I'm a good judge of character." Oliver said, "Don't discount it."
"Or maybe you've just gotten lucky." Felicity told him, over another sip of the crisp, apple-y white wine. "The thing with luck, it can go either way."
"I was marooned on an island, Felicity." Oliver said in a slight drawl, "I can't possibly have any bad luck left."
"And you were rescued to save us all." Felicity said, and then glanced up at him for a moment.
She'd never heard him talk about it, and she'd also never asked. For a moment, she considered asking him about the island. As quickly as she'd considered it, she pushed the idea away. If and when he wanted to talk about it, he knew that she was there as surely as she knew she could pick up her phone at any time and come to him for help.
"Or, you know, to threaten the corrupt." Felicity shrugged, "Speaking of that, I want you to know that not only did I bring the dazzle for tonight, I did it while simultaneously creating a program to scan all federal law enforcement databases for anyone matching Carmelo DuPont's description…and you know…solidifying my status as a domestic terrorist."
Felicity frowned, "Just be sure to break me out of prison before the tattooing portion of incarceration. I don't really do well with needles."
"Oh Felicity," Oliver chuckled, "I'd always come for you."
She knew she shouldn't be thinking it, but the entire night felt like a come on. It wasn't any secret that she had a not exactly concealed crush on Oliver, and this was all feeling like the set up before she fell.
Felicity bit down on his lip, watching him in the fading light as the sunset with a rosy tinge in the sky. He ate slowly, savoring each bite that he took, stopping on the third bite for a sip of the wine. It was only when he set the glass back down that he looked at her and smiled.
"What?"
"Nothing." Felicity looked away quickly, losing her nerve and busying herself with the glass of wine. "Thanks for bringing me out here, I've always wondered what the infamous Queen garden was like."
"Then you should have just asked." Oliver told her, abandoning the food and jumping up from the ground, brushing off the green pants with one hand and offering the other to her. "In that case, there is something I have to show you."
Holding her hand in his, Oliver smiled, a gleam in his bright eyes.
"Are you sure…this isn't going to bother your mother?" Felicity asked as they walked along a stone path that followed the bubbling creek through the garden. "I mean, you're sort of important to the party. I don't have to monopolize all your time."
"Felicity." Oliver stopped in his path, and turned to face her, shaking his head. "There is no place I'd rather be, and I can assure you that most people at this party are more interested in speaking with my mother."
As he seemed to peer through her, Felicity's mind went blank, unable to think of anything to say.
Oliver turned back around, leading her carefully along the cobblestone path. She knew that she was a little buzzed from the wine, but in any world this couldn't be more of a dream. Felicity was sure that the otherworldly quality of the garden had a lot to do with it, but…
When Oliver stopped abruptly, she nearly bumped into him. He turned, and she realized that suddenly at the end of the creek they were ensconced by a bevy of overhanging, lush greenery and a thick, colorful field of daises.
"Gerbera." Felicity smiled, "They're my favorite."
"I know." Oliver was already offering her a daisy he'd plucked from beside the creek.
"How did you know?" Felicity asked him, taking the flower.
She'd been impressed with Oliver since the first day that she'd met him, but this was something else altogether.
"Well," Oliver stifled a chuckle. "The first day I met you in your office, you nearly knocked over a vase of them."
"That's horrible intel." Felicity said, "It could have been an anomaly."
"You place a bunch in the purple vase once a month." Oliver said, "Usually during the last week of the month. I'm pretty sure that you seem to favor the orange ones and the white."
Wow, she'd dated guys who knew less about her flower preference.
She was shocked for a moment as Oliver's hands closed around her waist and moved her across the stone-less gap into the enclave of the overhanging trees.
"If that's you trying to show off, I'm already impressed. I've seen you do the ladder thing." Felicity gestured with her hand, the shadow under the trees eclipsing Oliver's face slightly.
Her heartbeat picked up as his hands didn't move from her waist, one of them moving up her back as she melted into his hold. A part of her told her that she should step away, while the other part tilted her head up waiting agonizingly for something to happen.
Oliver's head lowered toward hers, pressing his lips against hers and Felicity closed her eyes as she folded into the warm touch of his lips against hers, his hand rubbing across her back as he pulled her body against his.
It wasn't until Oliver finally pulled away, and she could taste him on her lips that she realized…she realized what she'd been trying all night to forget.
"Oliver, what are we—I mean…"
Oliver expelled a breath like a surrender to her.
"I can't—I don't know how to just be your friend. But I don't want to ruin what we have, Felicity." Oliver swallowed nervously over a lump in his throat. "I'm being rash, and impulsive, but you make me feel, Felicity. You make me feel like I haven't since before the island."
"What about Laurel?" Felicity asked, "You love her."
"I…" Oliver ran a hand through his hair, looking her over. "I don't. She reminds me of the man that I was, and I will always care about her, regret the way I treated her—but you're not only one of the best friends I've ever had, you've reminded me of what I can be. You believe in me more than anyone I've ever known."
You're going to break my heart. Felicity thought, her eyebrows furrowing together in thought.
"Can I ask just one more question?" Felicity asked him, nervously using her hands to smooth out the skirt of her dress.
"Ask anything you want." Oliver told her.
"Why now?" Felicity asked, "Tonight. I never even would have…imagined…this."
"You don't see yourself the way I see you." Oliver told her, "And I couldn't bear the idea of losing you without ever trying, without ever letting you know how much I care about you."
"Okay, right…" Felicity nodded her head, her mind overflowing with thoughts and misgivings, and how could she dare to even hope…
"But Oliver," Felicity smiled, biting down on her lip and pulling him down to her.
She kissed him, feeling the spark of response below his lips as he pulled her into his arms, her mouth parting easily for the onslaught of his kiss.
Felicity decided that again, he was worth the risk.
"But Oliver what?" Oliver said finally as she pulled away. "We should start this on an even keel, you know?"
Felicity turned away from him, a grin at the corner of her mouth.
"But I think we're going to have to keep this to ourselves. The company has a policy against interoffice relationships."
"I guess it's a good thing I don't work in the office." Oliver said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to him.
It could work, Felicity thought as they walked back along the cobblestone path, the sun dropping lower in the sky. They would be able to work, to make this work. She glanced sideways at him, feeling the warm security of his hand around hers.
It was worth the effort. Oliver was worth it all.