Set as alternate conclusion to Season 3 Episode 7, Draw Back Your Bow. After Oliver sees Felicity with Ray and returns to the foundry, he stays instead of running into Roy and leaving. His jealousy drives him to make a move.
The lights were low in the foundry as Felicity walked down the stairs. She didn't hear anything from below- no training, no police radio, no news broadcasts from the computer. She figured Oliver and the rest of Team Arrow were out doing their part to save the city. She'd had the night out that she'd wanted, but it hadn't gone exactly as she'd hoped. She probably ought to have gone home and changed out of the million dollar dress that she definitely shouldn't have let Ray Palmer give her. There were so many things that she shouldn't do and shouldn't have done. Her mood at the moment was confused and rocky, and Felicity was done with thinking about things, done with weighing consequences and decisions. That was the reason she was at the foundry anyway- she had no problem knowing the right thing to do when it came to the bad guys. When it came to the good ones, she felt clueless.
She made it to her desk and tossed her purse and jacket into her chair. She pulled her hair down from its careful up do and flung the hair band onto the desk. She was running her fingers through her hair when she saw him. She nearly jumped six feet in the air.
"Oliver, seriously, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is that a training exercise now? I mean, I give you a perfect ten for your brooding and lurking skills, but is that really necessary down here?" She put her hand over her heart and felt it racing.
Oliver took a step out of the shadows. He had been pacing and training and running circles around the foundry since he saw her kissing Ray Palmer. He'd put on his gear, but he knew he was too worked up to go out with a clear head. He hadn't expected her back here tonight. She belonged up there in the high rise, being kissed by the good guy and dripping in diamonds. She should have stayed there. Why come back down here? He wasn't braced to see her so soon, and it was that moment when his control slipped away. He stopped thinking about shoulds and shouldn'ts. His only thought was that she was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen. He took another step toward her, and then another, almost unaware he was moving.
Felicity realized immediately that something was different. He was in full Arrow gear, but he obviously hadn't been headed out. Oliver moved toward her in the dim light, and he was acting strange.
"Oliver, what's wrong? Is everything okay? Did something happen?" Before she could get an answer to her question, she found herself pressed up against the nearby glass case, and Oliver was hovering over her. She couldn't even remember him moving from across the room. Oliver leaned over her with just his lips pressed against her hair. His hands were on the glass beside her, caging her in. She gasped, "Oh my god, what—"
"How could you let him touch you like that? How can he be the last person to…" His voice was so low and gravelly that if he hadn't been speaking right into her ear she wouldn't have been able to hear him. He brushed his gloved finger over her lower lip, and she felt the contact down to her toes.
"Him? Who? What are…" With Oliver surrounding her with his heat, Felicity couldn't think at all, let alone try to figure him out. She brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders.
"Ray. You let him kiss you, and this dress? How could you? First Barry, now this? How am I supposed to just ignore it?" With that, he put his hand back on the glass and leaned his body the rest of the way in. She felt him all over. His lips left her hair and traveled down the side of her throat, burning kisses like a brand.
Felicity was overwhelmed, but not enough to let that comment slide. She sucked in air and put her hand between them on his chest, pushing at him. "What right do you have to say something like that to me? You were spying on me?" Oliver didn't budge, and the leather felt warm against her skin. She could feel his heart pounding as clearly as she could feel her own.
"Yes. No. I was coming to see you." He stopped kissing her throat and pressed his cheek against hers. He didn't want to look in her eyes; he didn't want to analyze what they were feeling anymore. "I know I should, but just I can't stop this. You- you're supposed to be mine."
Felicity felt the words against her more than heard them, and she couldn't hang onto her anger, even though she wanted to. Her frustration was transforming into something more tangible. She could feel his weight against her and his breath on her skin. She couldn't resist for another second.
She turned her face toward his, and his lips met hers. It wasn't soft and sweet; it was searching and intense. One of her hands threaded through his hair, trying to pull him even further in, while the other clung to the leather covering his back.
Oliver felt like he was drowning in sunshine. He had been resisting her pull for so long, that it was as though her warmth was racing through him, recharging him. He felt her fingers in his hair and on his back, and he moved his own palm off the glass and onto her. One hand gripped her shoulder like it belonged there and the other traveled down her side. There was nothing on the planet softer than the skin on the outside of her thigh. He heard her quiet moan as he touched her, and he made it his goal in life to hear that sound as much as possible.
She couldn't get close enough to him. His lips were soft, warm, and urgent against hers, shifting and moving. Her lips parted and she felt him slip inside of her mouth just as his hand trailed from the outside of her thigh to the inside. As his hand inched higher, she could hardly stand the excitement of the heat of his leather glove against her; it was such a contrast to the cool air of night. She felt her legs shift, almost of their own accord, to give him more room. Suddenly there was a change in his body, and the urgency paused. His body was tense and his hand against her changed from a caress to a grip, as if he was afraid she would pull away.
"Mine," was the word he pressed against her lips. It was a demand, and at the same time, almost a plea. He kissed her again, and then he moved his arm from her shoulder to her hip in a sweeping gesture. "Mine." The plea was gone, and this time it was a statement. Felicity didn't have a problem with being his, but there was one thing that needed clarification. She gripped his hair in her fingers and pulled, hard, until he relented to back up enough to make eye contact. The blue in his eyes was piercing.
"That goes both ways." Did she even need to say that to him? As if he could even imagine being with anyone the way he was with her. The idea of being with anyone else was laughable. He felt his eyes crinkle as the very idea brought on a smile. He reached up and pulled her hand down from his hair. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her palm.
"Yours." He moved her hand to the fastenings on the front of his jacket. "All yours."'
...
Later, much later, Felicity found herself lying across Oliver's chest. They were both stretched out on the training mats. Oliver was staring up at the ceiling, rubbing a few strands of her hair between his fingers. She was fully aware that he was running scenarios in his head, making decisions and planning for them both. She knew he'd let her know when he was finished, and then she'd tell him how it was actually going to be. It wasn't going to be easy. Oliver wasn't magically going to learn to express his feelings, and his protective streak was probably only to get worse. She knew it would be complicated, but they could make it work. They mattered.
"Okay. First thing." At the sound of his voice, she turned. She picked up her glasses from where they had been carefully placed on the floor, crossed her arms on his chest, and rested her chin on them, ready to hear him out. "That dress," her eyes grew wide and flew to the gorgeous blue dress strewn on the floor. "You can't wear that anymore."
"Seriously?" Disappointment filled her eyes.
"Please? It drives me crazy knowing he picked that out for you." Oliver still hadn't looked down from the ceiling, like looking at her would make this conversation a real thing. Felicity repeated her mantra in her head. We will make this work. We matter. She let out a huge sigh. "Felicity?"
"We will make this work. So, for you, I will not wear that dress." She felt him relax. "On one condition." And the tension in him was back, but she was going to make such a concession worth her while. "I get to watch you on that salmon ladder at least twice a week for forever."
He finally looked down at her. "Done," he said with a smirk.
