The Other Shoe
The sheets rustle as Oliver slides out of bed, followed by the creak of the loose floorboard by the door. A minute later Felicity hears the door to the deck slide open, and then closed again. She sits up in bed, glancing at the digital clock glowing faintly in the darkness.
2:37 am.
Almost every night for the past two weeks Oliver has slipped away as soon as he's convinced she's asleep, and Felicity doesn't know where he goes, or why; only that he's always back by the time she wakes up in the morning, his warm solidity wrapped around her like an exceptionally well-muscled body pillow. During the day he seems fine. But Felicity knows he hasn't had a full night's sleep in a long time and it worries her that he's keeping his insomnia from her, or at least trying to.
Moonlight slides across the bed as Felicity throws back the covers and drops to the floor.
She finds Oliver on the deck, silhouetted against the moonlit water with his elbows braced against the railing. He turns at the sound of the glass door sliding open.
"Hey," he says softly.
"Hi." Felicity leans against the doorframe, her arms wrapped loosely her arms around herself—all she has on is one of Oliver's old t-shirts and night air is cold.
"Sorry," Oliver says. "I didn't mean to wake you."
She shakes her head. "You didn't."
A small worry crease appears between Oliver's brows. "Are you alright?"
Felicity raises her eyebrows. "Are you?"
For a moment Oliver hesitates. He's spent so many years hiding himself—his true thoughts and feelings—that he has to consciously remind himself that it's been months since he last wore a mask, and much longer since he's really been able to hide anything from her.
"It's stupid." The words fall like bitter stones from his mouth.
Felicity moves on autopilot, crossing to him and cupping his cheek so that he's forced to look her in the eye. His hand rises automatically to cover hers and it's ridiculous how his smallest gestures still send butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
"Talk to me," she whispers.
She can see the moment the dam breaks—the moment her Oliver wins out over the entrenched urge to fake a smile and tell her he's fine. "These past few months," he says, "I've been happier than I've ever been. But lately, I keep thinking about how this can't go on forever. It's going to end. And once we're back in the real world everything's going to be different. I lie next to you at night imagining a thousand ways I might ruin us—a thousand ways I could let you down. In my head it's so easy. And the fact that I'm wasting all our time waiting for the other shoe to drop just makes it worse—"
"Oliver," Felicity interrupts. "I can tell you right now that there is only one thing you could do to ruin us. One thing. Do you want to know what it is? Shutting me out," she says firmly. "Not talking to me. Keeping all this stuff bottled up while I'm a few feet away, wondering. You're right—this isn't going to last forever. The other shoe is going to drop. Personally I'm hoping for a nice pair of Louboutins, but really any free shoes are down with me."
That manages to tug a smile from him and she feels herself mirroring it; she can't help it. It's like looking into the sun and trying not to squint. Impossible. "But when it does we'll face it together. So stop worrying, ok?"
It's strange. Everyone thinks Felicity has a way of knowing exactly what Oliver needs to hear, exactly when he needs to hear it. But from her perspective she's just fumbling in the dark, chasing down whatever words, thoughts, feel right in the moment. It's like trying to catch wisps of fog between her fingers. And every time there's a fraction of a second where she panics, sure she's said the wrong thing. But somehow, she never does. Maybe that's love, she muses. An adventure without a roadmap. Throwing yourself headfirst into the abyss and trusting the other person not to let you fall.
"Ok," Oliver says. He tugs her against him and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Do you want to go back to bed?"
She shakes her head, winding her arms around his waist. "Let's stay out here a bit. We never see this many stars in the city. It's beautiful."
"Yeah," he says, "it is." But he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at a different kind of light, one far more luminous than a clump of plasma a billion miles away, and a heck of a lot closer.
Felicity's too busy to notice; she's got her head thrown back, looking up at the endless expanse of sky. "Can you see any of the constellations? The only one I can ever find is the big dipper." She squints. "That one kind of looks like a usb port."
Oliver chuckles. "That's Libra, the scales of justice."
She snuggles into his chest and sighs. "Whatever. Still looks like a usb port to me."
They end up falling asleep in one of the deck chairs, wrapped up in a beach towel and each other. When they wake the next morning the sun is glittering on the water and their skin is sticky from the salt air. They peel themselves apart and despite the aches that a natural part of sleeping in a chair, both of them are smiling.
A week later the other shoe drops. Thea calls; there's a new big bad in Starling and she can't handle it alone. She needs her big brother, and she needs Felicity's tech support almost as much.
Felicity is in their bedroom, packing, before Oliver is even off the phone.
She glances up at him as he follows her into the room a minute later. "Back to the real world," she says, a careful lightness in her voice. "You ready?"
He leans against the door frame, a small smile dancing around his lips. "As long as you're with me."
"Always," she says.
And for the rest of their lives, she is.
