A/N: I'm not on this site much anymore so when I posted this on AO3 last year I completely forgot to put it up here as well! It's already complete so updates should be pretty fast. I hope you enjoy this Olicity soulmate AU :) As usual, I own nothing.
I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there's nothing but light when I see you
-Shinji Moon, The Anatomy of Being
/
It's raining.
It rained the night Oliver came home too, but he was so out of it from the drugs they gave him for the flight that it's more like a sense memory than a clear picture. And the first night at home, waking up on the floor with his hand around his mother's throat, lighting illuminating her horrified expression.
Oliver doesn't like the rain.
On the island, rain was everything. Rain meant fresh water, which meant life. He can remember the taste of saltwater on his tongue, brine and fish, how he cried the first time he successfully caught rainwater.
The flip side of it was that getting wet was a potential death sentence, putting the body at risk for hypothermia or worse.
That was the island, the constant push-pull of die or survive, survive or die, and after awhile you forget what the point is, why you bother to hunt and fish and bleed. Forget why you're trying so hard, when you're all alone, when the most company you ever keep is when you hallucinate your little sister chasing your old family dog through the trees.
So Oliver's feelings about the weather are complicated.
He doesn't remember it raining this much in Starling City but it's been like this almost every day since he came back. It's not dangerous anymore, not with the luxury of car heaters and hot showers and heavy fleece sweatshirts. But it sets Oliver on edge, gives him this slight feeling of being in two places at once.
Like he brought the island back with him.
He can't sleep, not without taking pills the doctors prescribed for him. The side effects though, visceral night terrors that leave him a shaking, sweating mess on the bathroom floor, make staying up the more appealing option.
He runs at night, now. Around eleven usually, after Walter, his mom and Thea are in bed and his bodyguard has been sent home for the night. Oliver doesn't know that much about him other than he's ex-military, is infinitely patient, has a baby girl that keeps him up half the night but man Oliver just you wait, it's so worth it, you'll see one day.
Sure, Oliver said. One day. Like it wasn't some ridiculous fantasy. Like any woman would want to marry him now, have his child, trust him with a child.
It's raining, just before midnight on a Tuesday, and he's running, no headphones, through downtown Starling City, pushing through the fatigue that never totally fades anymore.
Oliver's got the hood of his grey hoodie up but his white tee shirt is already soaked through as he runs, the steady slap of his Nikes against the pavement. He drove from the house and parked his car by the fountain, walked for a couple blocks before breaking into an even, steady pace.
He's halfway down the street near the bus station when he sees her, just as a city bus pulls away from the curb. There's a young blond running from the other end of the block, one arm carrying a heavy looking purse and the other waving frantically to the already departed bus. It happens almost in slow motion: the heel of her shoe gets stuck in a grate and she goes flying, landing hard on her back as her arms go protectively around her bag.
Oliver runs faster, one hand reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone, but when he skids to a stop a foot away from her the woman shrieks and covers her head.
"My wallet's in my bag but please, please, don't touch the laptop," she begs.
Oliver stares down at her. Golden hair tied back in a tight ponytail, polka dot ruffled blouse, tight plum knit skirt and pointy toed pumps, one of which has a broken heel and is lying sadly on the pavement six inches away.
"It really isn't even worth it, I'm totally broke," the girl says breathlessly. Her full lips are painted a deep pink and she's got blue eyes behind her glasses. "My credit cards are totally maxed out, please, please don't kill me, if I get mugged my mother will murder me."
Oliver blinks in disbelief. "You think I'm trying to rob you?"
She squints up at him in suspicion. "Aren't you?"
"No, I - I was running and I saw you fall."
"What kind of person goes running in the pouring rain?"
"You were running." Oliver points out. "In heels."
"My car wouldn't start. Again. I had to leave it at the office," she complains, and when he offers her his hand she allows him to pull her to her feet, balancing awkwardly in one heel. "So I was going to catch the last bus instead, which I missed, obviously, and now I'm totally screwed."
"Can't you take a cab?"
She gives him a strange look. "Cabs won't go to the Glades anymore. Haven't for months. Are you new to town or something?"
Oliver frowns. "You live in the Glades?"
"Glades-adjacent," she says, sounding a little embarrassed. "I guess I'll just have to walk."
"Wait." He reaches out without thinking and cups her shoulder. And then stares, at his hand on another woman, the heat of her skin seeping through her damp top. "I can't let you walk alone this late at night."
She rolls her eyes at him, hitching her bag up on her shoulder. "Well, I'm kind of out of options here buddy."
"At least let me walk you home."
"For all I know you're a serial killer!" she retorts sharply. "And this, oh I'm just a sexy runner Good Samaritan act is just that, an act!"
Oliver's mouth falls open. "I went from a robber to a serial killer? Seriously?"
She shrugs. "This is Starling City, you never know."
"Look," Oliver says. "Let me call you a car, okay?"
"I'm sorry, call me a car?"
"Yeah, I have a driver my family uses."
"Oh, of course," she says faintly. "Right. Your driver."
"It's not a big deal."
"You don't have to," she says quickly. "I don't even know you."
"Are you always this stubborn?" Oliver pulls out his phone, his old Samsung flip phone from college because apparently while he was on the island computers and cell phones completely merged and for some reason his mother never thought to cancel his plan while he was in absentia.
"Maybe I'm not looking to be rescued," she retorts.
"For someone who doesn't want to be saved you do one hell of a Cinderella impression." He orders a car from his family's personal 24/7 (no questions asked) car service and sits down next to the girl in the sanctuary of the bus stop. She folds her legs under her, broken heel clutched in her hand.
"You don't have to wait with me," she says, sounding uncomfortable. "I mean, I'm sure you have better things to do than hang out with a klutz like me."
Oliver shrugs. "Not really."
She raises an eyebrow. "So you really were running? In this?"
"Couldn't sleep," he mutters.
"Ah." She nods. "You should try math."
He squints at her. "Math?"
"Yeah, couple of algebra equations bores me right to sleep. Or sudoku. Anything with numbers."
"I'm pretty sure I don't remember how to do algebra."
She smiles cheerfully. "Even better."
Rain lashed against the plastic sides of the bus stop. Oliver inhales hard through his nose and resolutely doesn't flinch. "Does it always rain this much this time of year?"
"Excuse me?"
"I don't remember it raining this much here," he mutters, thinking about the seat heaters in his car, how he'll go home later and take a hot shower and still shiver for hours.
He never really gets warm anymore.
"I wouldn't know," she says. "I've only lived here for a few years."
Oliver nods and remembers a few awkward seconds too late that he is in the company of a real live human being and he is expected to be polite, that when talking to an actual person (not a photo of your girlfriend or hallucinations of your family) reciprocal conversation is required.
"I grew up here," he offers. "But I've been gone for awhile."
"Oh," she says, and goddamn does she have a beautiful smile. "Welcome home."
"Thank you." He manages to sound gracious even, a small victory.
He idly thinks about being brave enough to ask her a question, like what's your name, where do you work, or where did you move from, or even,have dinner with me, but the car pulls up to the curb and the girl hops up, balancing on one heel and the ball of her other foot.
"Here." Oliver holds his arm out for her to grip as she hobbles across the sidewalk.
He opens the door for her and she beams up at him as she sinks into the backseat. It's like sun breaking through the clouds after the longest storm, like water after wandering for forty days in the desert. Like that time he did ecstasy with Tommy one Halloween and had a hallucinogenic, surreal threesome with a playboy model.
Basically it's like his head, his heart, and his dick have all come online after years of being in sleep mode (survival, real survival is all instinct, higher level feelings like human connection and lust shut down when you're all alone for five years, five years where nothing good happened).
As he shuts the car door he notices something on the bottom of her bare foot, a line of something dark, like a smear of dirt or a tattoo.
Or maybe her mark, he thinks, and wishes he'd looked closer, but the car's already halfway down the block. He walks back to the fountain where he parked the Bentley, shivering, clothes soaked through, but there's something warm in his chest that wasn't there before.
/
Thea skips the first three periods of school on Thursday to take him to the Apple Store in the Starling City National Mall to buy him an iPhone. It only takes a few minutes for Thea and the salesman to start flirting and the entire process takes so long that Oliver walks out, paces back and forth on the sidewalk for an eternity until his sister comes back outside.
"You're welcome," she snaps, and slams a slim white box into his palm.
"Thea-"
"Whatever, I have to go to school."
"Thea, come on-"
"You didn't even tell me you left the store, I turned around and you were just gone!"
He hangs his head. "I'm sorry Speedy."
His sister lets out a long suffering sigh and pats his shoulder. "I know, Ollie." She kisses his cheek. "I have to go, I'll see you at home later."
He sits on a bench for awhile, sick with shame, before bothering to open the box and look at the new phone before realizing he doesn't know how to use it, doesn't even know how to turn it on. Oliver sighs wearily and walks back to the parking garage where his driver is waiting for him.
"I need you to take me to QC," Oliver instructs, and John Diggle puts the car into drive.
Oliver leans back in his seat, eyes shut, thinking about the look on his sister's face - an exquisitely painful mixture of pity and rage. He breathes and absentmindedly pushes his palm against his left side, where his mark runs down his ribs.
At QC Diggle follows him up to Walter's office. Oliver explains his predicament, cheeks flushed, feeling like a moron next to elegant, steady Walter, who chuckles and scribbles down the name of a girl in the IT department who's apparently some absolute genius who revolutionized the company's blah blah blah.
Oliver smiles and nods, waits for Walter to send him on his way with a firm slap on his shoulder and a polite nod to John. They take the elevator down to the IT department, wander around in the maze until they find the little cave of an office where Felicity Smoak, apparent tech goddess, works.
Oliver knocks his fist against the open door and sticks his head in. There's a blond sitting with her back to him in a computer chair, a perfectly centered ponytail hanging down between her shoulders.
"Excuse me?" Oliver knocks again. "I'm looking for Felicity Smoak?"
The girl jumps and spins around in her chair and Oliver's mouth falls open in surprise because she's not just some blond, she's the blond, the girl from the other night.
"Ohmygod!" she yelps, a red pen slipping from between her fingertips.
"H-hi," Oliver stutters. "I'm, um...are you Felicity?"
She blinks heavily at him. "Yeah, I'm, yes! That is my name, uh, you, you're the"-
"Oliver," he interrupts. "Oliver Queen."
"Ohmygod!" she exclaims again, jumping up from her chair. "Of course, I knew I recognized you, it's nice to officially meet you Mr. Queen. I mean, Oliver, Mr. Queen was your father, okay I'm just gonna shut up now." Felicity closes her eyes, looking horrified, and sinks back down in her chair.
Oliver can't resist chuckling. "Felicity?"
She opens her eyes slowly, like she's afraid of what she's going to see. "Yeah?"
"You okay?" He feels a little bad for laughing at her but she's so damn cute like this he can't help it.
"Yes." She shakes her head and for the first time gives him a genuine smile. "Sorry, I assume there's an actual reason why you're here?"
"Yeah, I..." Oliver ducks his head, suddenly feeling a little bashful. "My sister just bought me a new iPhone but it's ah, kind of been awhile for me, I mean I missed the whole smart phone thing so...Walter said you could help me?"
"Let me see." Felicity holds out her hand and Oliver takes the phone out of his pocket and passes it over.
Felicity shoots him a quick smile and plugs the phone into a cord on her desk. "This won't take too long, I just have to install the software and then we can set up all your social media accounts."
Oliver scratches the back of his neck. "Social media?"
"Yeah, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram"-
"I don't need any of that," Oliver says quickly. "Just...I just need to know how to use it."
"Okay," she says placidly. "I can see why you'd want to stay quiet, I mean, the whole five years on an island thing, I'm sure people are hounding you, I knew I recognized your face, you've been all over the news." Felicity glances up at him and winces. "Sorry, I shouldn't... shutting up now, promise."
"That's okay," he says softly. "I mean, it's okay to talk about it."
She smiles shyly and looks down at her desk. "I'm um, actually working on something right now, did you want to come back for your phone when it's done? Shouldn't take that long."
Oliver shrugs because he literally has nothing better to do than to wait around, because that's how pathetic his life is now. "I can wait."
He sinks into a little chair in the corner of the cave that's passing for her office, watching her work while trying to be as surreptitious as possible about it because he's aware that it's not cool to check girls out while they're doing favors for you.
It's just - she's pretty. And sexy in a naughty librarian kind of way. He finds himself idly staring at the buttons of her pale pink shirt, imagines undoing them one at a time, creamy skin slowly revealing itself.
Okay so maybe being stuck on an island for five years without anything more than a picture of Laurel's face has warped his sexuality, which seems to be waking up rather forcefully, now that he's back, or maybe it's just Felicity.
Oliver hasn't felt a shred of real sexual interest in a woman since he left with Sara five years ago, and the final nail in that particular coffin was when Laurel Lance slapped him in front of CNRI's office his second day home from the island. She promptly burst into tears and left Oliver there on the sidewalk, hating himself because if he had just kept his hands off her sister Sara would be alive and Oliver, stupid playboy Ollie would be at the bottom of the sea like he deserves.
"Oliver?"
He can tell by the expression on Felicity's face that she's said his name more than once. "Sorry." He clears his throat. "It's done?"
"Here." She unplugs the phone and hands it back to him, gives him a brief tutorial on how to use the basic functions. "Now you're officially a functioning member of society again."
"Thank you," he says, feeling a warm glow in his chest. "You're kind of remarkable, you know."
She smiles. "Thank you for remarking on it."
"How's your car?" he asks, because he doesn't have an excuse to stay longer but he wants to, desperately, even if he doesn't totally understand why.
"In the shop," Felicity says, the smile slipping off her face. "The engine needed some work, I've been taking the bus." She sticks out her feet and he sees her shoes, little black flats with panda bears on the toes. "Hence the shoes."
"Sorry," he apologizes earnestly, shuddering, because ugh, public transit.
She shrugs. "Shit falls apart sometimes, that's life right?"
"Have dinner with me," he blurts out, out of nowhere, like he's lost his goddamn mind.
She blinks. "Excuse me?"
"I just mean - as a thank you, for setting up my phone. I could pick you up when you're done here so you wouldn't have to take the bus."
She reaches up to adjust her glasses. "You want to take me to dinner?"
Oliver yanks at the collar of his shirt, the back of his neck getting hot. "I'm sorry, I just thought" -
"No," she interrupts. "I mean yes, sorry. Thank you, I would love to eat you. Eat with you!" Her cheeks flush pink. "Sorry, my brain-to-mouth filter gets me in trouble sometimes."
"Oh, hopefully," he says offhandedly, and then finds himself flushing right along with her because he used to know how to do this but something about this girl makes him feel like a nervous teenager again.
"Smooth brother," Dig teases after Oliver has made plans to pick Felicity up in front of QC at seven. "Real smooth."
"Shut up," Oliver mutters, but he can't hide the smile on his face.
/
Oliver comes back to QC at seven that night and parks the Bentley out front, puts on his hazards and gets out of the car to lean against the passenger side door that faces the entrance to the lobby. It's cooling down and he's grateful he thought to grab his brown leather jacket to layer over his grey sweater.
Felicity emerges from the huge glass doors at five after seven (not that Oliver's counting), wearing a navy wool trench coat, a leather tote bag tucked under one arm. Her face lights up when she sees him and Oliver feels a warm glow spread across his chest and melt down his sides.
"Hi," she says, tucking a lock of windswept hair that's escaped her ponytail behind her ear. "We're not going anywhere fancy, right?" She points a toe in his direction. "I'm not wearing my fancy shoes today."
"No," Oliver assures her, feeling a wave of relief. Low expectations are much easier for him to manage. "You said you lived near The Glades, right? There's a great burger place" -
"Big Belly Burger?" she interrupts hopefully.
"You know it?"
Felicity smiles and Oliver gets that feeling again, that stupid melty feeling like something is lighting up inside his body. "Of course. Best burgers in town."
/
Carly is working when they walk into Big Belly Burger, she waves to him and calls out, "Hi Oliver! Sit wherever, I'll be with you in a moment."
"Friendly with the staff I see," Felicity comments as he leads her to a back corner booth.
"Carly's actually my bodyguard's sister-in-law," Oliver explains, sitting down in the booth opposite Felicity.
"Your bodyguard?" She unbuttons her coat and Oliver is suddenly thrown back to that morning at the sight of her pink shirt, the way he can see the column of her white throat with her hair pulled back like this...
"Oliver?" He jumps, startled, watching Felicity's concerned expression from across the table. "Oliver, are you okay?"
He blinks rapidly, feeling a little lightheaded. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?"
Carly swoops in and rescues him, whipping her order pad out and dropping a plate of complimentary fries on the table.
"So," Felicity says, after they've both ordered house burgers, popping the end of a fry into her mouth. "Where's your invisible bodyguard, huh?"
"I gave him the night off," Oliver says, distracted by the appearance of her tongue as she licks her upper lip. "It's not really necessary, I can take of myself."
To his surprise Felicity flinches and stares down at the table. "I'm sorry, of course you can, you survived on an island for five years."
"Felicity." When she doesn't respond he reaches over the table and covers one of her hands with his own. "It's okay, it's fine."
"It's not fine Oliver, what happened to you must have been horrible." She glances up at him and to his surprise she looks genuinely upset.
"Felicity, hey. I know it's...hard to talk about, but it's okay. I'm back home, I'm alive. I'm in the best burger joint in the city and I have great company. Trust me, it's fine, okay?"
She nods, looking down where his hand is spread flat over hers. "Well you did get a great tan at least."
Oliver laughs, surprised, and just like that all the tension between them dissolves. He withdraws his hand and unexpectedly mourns the loss when he does, like Felicity is an external heat source he's just discovered, a second sun, bestowing warmth and light upon him whenever he's near her.
"You said you're not originally from here, right?" Oliver ventures, because all that warmth is making him feel kind of brave.
She nods, dipping a fry in ketchup before folding it delicately into her mouth and swallowing. "Yeah I moved here after I graduated. I did a summer internship at QC before my senior year, they recruited me."
"Wow," he says, impressed. "Where'd you go to school?"
"MIT," she says quickly, flashing him a tight smile. "Computers are kind of my thing."
"Yeah," he says, stomach contracting, that feeling he had in Walter's office coming back. "I'm getting that."
Like he's glaringly self-aware of his inadequacies in a way he wasn't before the island. He spent five years just trying to survive while everyone else was growing up, becoming adults with jobs and responsibilities.
What is he even doing here? This girl is smart, and beautiful, and probably worked ten times harder to get where she is than Oliver has ever had to work for anything, ever. Why would someone who's so warm and soft looking want to be near someone who's cold and broken?
The touch of her finger trails over the back of his hand and he feels a bolt of heat follow its path. "Hey," she says softly. "Where'd you go?"
"I'm sorry," he apologizes haltingly. "I'm not...I haven't, um...I'm kind of out of practice."
Felicity gives him a gentle smile and strokes the back of his hand. "Hey, I'm more comfortable talking to machines than people sometimes, I'm not judging."
"I think you're doing great," Oliver offers. "For the record."
Carly come back and deposits their burgers on the table, raising an eyebrow at Felicity. "Who's your friend, Oliver?"
"Felicity Smoak," Felicity says, holding out her hand to Carly. "I work at QC."
"Well how about that?" Carly gives Oliver a smile that makes him squirm before winking at Felicity, who giggles. "Enjoy your food sweetie."
They manage to get through the meal by making small talk in between bites, talking about QC, debating which coffee shops in Starling City are the best (Oliver has a split vote between The Grind & Jolt Cafe and Cafe Lux, while Felicity is partial to Stardust Coffee).
"But if we're being honest," she says shyly. "I like Jitters the most."
"That's in Central City!" Oliver exclaims. "You - you traitor!"
"It's good!" Felicity says defensively. "Come on."
"Your transplant roots are showing," he teases. "A native would never admit to liking Jitters better."
Felicity raises a sly eyebrow at him. "You won't tell, right? I don't want anyone to know I'm a traitor."
"Don't worry." Oliver smiles like it's easy, like he never forgot how to do it in the first place. "Your secret's safe with me."
He drives her home after dinner, following her directions to her condo. She's right, she doesn't live in The Glades, not technically. She's not that far from Verdant actually, within walking distance even. When Oliver parks the Bentley he jumps out of the car to walk around to open her door without even thinking about it. Some things are still just muscle memory, even now.
"So," Felicity says as they walk up to her door, bent over and fishing her keys out of her bag. "Thanks for dinner."
Oliver smiles (again! like it's nothing! what is this girl, the smile whisperer?). "Thanks for coming."
She makes a little sound of triumph and pulls out her keys. "Hey, I uh, gave you my number." She closes her eyes suddenly and slaps her palm against her forehead. "What I mean is, I put my contact info in your phone so if you have any more questions you can call me. Or text, oh my god, you know how to text, right?"
"Yes, Felicity, I know how to text," he says patiently.
"Oh thank Google," she sighs. "So I guess, I'll just, um, talk to you later?"
"Okay," Oliver says, and feels his hand twitch at his side when a stray lock of her hair falls across her forehead.
Felicity smiles. "Goodnight Oliver."
"Goodnight Felicity."
Oliver watches her let herself inside, the door closing softly behind her, and walks back down to his car and gets in. Sits in it without even starting the engine, watching lights turn on inside Felicity's condo, shadows flickering behind her curtains. He imagines her kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag on the floor. Taking off her coat, her fingers going to the buttons on her shirt and slowly undoing them...
Oliver blinks and realizes that he's sitting outside in his car like a stalker, shivering because he hasn't turned the car on and therefore, no heating. He starts the car with shaking hands, turns on his headlights and drives away.