I read a discussion on Tumblr, (which I'm still struggling with. The site not the discussion and talk about a site that just makes me feel STUPID.) Anyway.

Sigh loudly.

I read a post talking about a OTP and one bed. (The beauty of the idea was there were no names. And then someone pointed out that it could apply to any OPT from any fandom which is kind of awesome in it's own way. And this post had went viral which means it touched a lot of people. Talk about making me think.)

Then we have all the spoilers and well, I just couldn't stop this. It was write it or be smothered by it kind thing. I hope you enjoy and of course, I seem to live for reviews. So come on, be the one and write me a note. But even if you don't thanks for the read.

I personally loved this because it totally flowed like a swollen river, and I know it's not what I should be writing, but here goes. It lasts as long as it lasts. And I will update my other story soon. Cheers.

#####OQ####

"I'm telling you I booked two rooms. I'm sure of it."

Her voice was rising, and Oliver knew she was stressing, and he fisted his hand to stop from reaching out and touching her.

No, she doesn't want you anymore, he told himself, and he knew she wouldn't want him to touch her. No these days, if he forgot and reached and touched her, she acted like he'd burnt her, like he'd hurt her.

And her reaction cut him to the core.

He found that these days, he was just thankful she was still here, still around. And he'd be damned if he do something to make her completely leave him alone. So he took a small step back and didn't reach and didn't attempt to touch.

Frowning, he thought this being just friends thing was hell, but at least she was still somewhat in his obit, at least she would still talk to him about the missions, about fighting crime. Okay, it was totally crumbs, but it was something, and he couldn't seem to just let her go.

Standing tall on her heels, she wasn't giving an inch as she tried to check into the hotel in Sin city.

They were supposed to meet up with Constantine's priestess friend again. He'd been surprised when he gotten Constantine's call that the woman wanted to see him.

"Hey, mate she got a message for you." Constantine had said, "And it has something to do with Damien Darhk's death and the transfer of all that magic you released into the air. Your fault totally. Go meet with her. This is important, mate. Do it and do it soon."

The man behind the counter words drug him back to the present, "I understand that you thought you booked two rooms but somehow the second room was never reserved, though the one room you do have reserved has a queen size bed."

He suppressed his grin at the word 'queen,' but then frowned as Felicity looked like she was in pain.

"Then just add another room to my card. I need two rooms." Her words were harsh, and he felt raw from the clear slight as she held up her hand and made the peace sign.

"I'm sorry. We're booked full for the night. We have several conferences staying with us right now, and you wouldn't even have this room if you hadn't reserved in advance."

"But, I need another room. Perhaps, I can find another hotel?"

"Felicity, can I speak to you for a moment."

Again, he stilled his hand, when he wanted to reach out and take her arm.

God, he missed touching her, but he forced himself to step back and thrust his hands in his leather jacket pockets. Carefully he began to finger the red hair tie that he'd pocketed one day as they had made love together, back in the old days when she'd still loved him. Unable to help himself, he stupidly repeatedly punished himself with it, as he smoothed it over and over and made his chest contract painfully.

However, he ignored the hair tie as he forced the words out, "Look, Felicity, let's just take the room."

"I'm just worried about the one bed thing." Her cheeks became stained red for an instant. "You know that platonic thing we have going on right now. I want to keep it that way, and I just." She swallowed then caught his eyes and he looked away.

"I just don't want to strain our relationship any more than it is, not that we have a relationship or relations any more or that I want you to strain anything." She groaned then said, "See this is just the kind of thing I was trying to avoid. I'm babbling, and I know this is hard for you."

He gave a small shake of his head and said, "It'll be fine. I'll just sleep on the floor. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm used to it." But he held back the words that ever since she'd left he'd returned to sleeping on the floor. He refused to tell her that he missed her so much that he couldn't even sleep on the cot in the lair because she'd brought it for him, and he'd returned to sleeping very little anyway. The bed was made because he never laid on it anymore. Mainly, he trained and patrolled and hoped someone fought back, so he could forget for a few minutes how miserable and alone he felt inside. And he didn't even have John anymore, and Skype wasn't the place to tell his friend how much he was dying inside.

Her expression pained, he tried to smile, tried to reassure her as he said, "Really it's no big deal. I just want to get this meeting done and over with. Come on, take the room."

"If you're sure, Oliver? But you're not sleeping on the floor. We're adults. And you know about Peter."

His hands fisted tightly in his pocket.

"Yes, I'm fully aware, you're seeing Peter." He couldn't stop the small sigh that escaped him. "Look this is only one night, so just take the room. I'll get the luggage. Please leave my keycard at the desk." His voice sounded stilted even to himself, but he couldn't help it.

Stomach on fire, he turned on his heel and pulled his hands from his pockets and scrubbed his face. Oh, yeah, he reached desperately for control, needed his rigid control as thoughts of killing a man named Peter swiftly washed over him.

Honestly, he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep watching her move on, since he kept imagining taking the man's hands off at his wrists, and he wanted to start with his fingernails and work his way up. And he couldn't stop his mind from replaying the first time he'd seen Peter touch her hand, and she'd smiled up at the man, smiled like she used to smile at him, and he'd hurt like someone had cut him, tortured him, as he'd watched.

Truthfully, he HATED, Peter, the damn cop, the detective, that she'd met at THEIR coffee shop. And why would you date a cop when what they were doing wasn't dangerous enough? But date a cop she was and he hated the damn man who she was currently dating, currently seeing, always texting, and heaven help him, made her smile, and who he was deathly afraid that she was currently sleeping with.

A terrible urge to kill, to bath in blood, filled him, and he had to savagely push the almost blood lust down. And yes, alright, he might be stalking her, though he told himself it was only to make sure she was safe. But he knew she'd stayed late at Peter's place last week, and he'd been beside himself and had beat the dummy for hours later. And the damn man also seemed to make her happy, something he'd always wanted for her.

What was he supposed to say to that? That he didn't want her to be happy?

No, he loved her and wanted her to be happy but inside he was selfish, and what he'd truly wanted was her to be happy with him, damn it. Couldn't he ever have what he wanted? What he needed? And his chest ached and his stomach burned.

And yes, he knew his lie had destroyed her love, just like everything he touched he'd tainted her, destroyed them. He knew his soul was black and that was the way it was.

Yet, she was moving on, leaving him behind, while he was stuck in emotional quicksand, helpless to do anything but watch her delight over her new man, while his heart bled daily as he heaped the blame on himself.

And, yeah, he deserved this since he'd been nothing but stupid to lie to her, to hurt her the way he had. He was nothing but a fool, and he was a love sick fool at that.

Passing the exercise room, he made a mental note to make use of the equipment as soon as he got the luggage in the room. Exiting the building, he assured himself that he could survive one night in a queen sized bed without touching her. Yes, he could and would do this.

Tomorrow morning they would meet with the priestess and then this would be over, except for the uncomfortable two hour drive back to Star City, while she chatted to fill the quiet, and he held himself together with sheer will while what he truly wanted to do was pull over and kiss her into oblivion, to prove to her that she was his and he was hers. And that was the way it WAS!

Oh, how he hurt inside and how he missed her. God, why had he allowed himself to have these feelings? He knew what happened if he allowed himself to feel. He had to find the ice again, needed to stop feeling.

Walking toward the large black sedan he'd borrowed from his sister, he tried to shut down his emotions. He didn't like the sedan because it reminded him of his mother and his part in her death, but he'd needed a car, and he'd given the Porsche back. Thea had tried to get him to keep the Porsche but after their break up, the car had carried too many memories, way too many memories and some of them sexual memories.

Oh, how he missed touching her.

Unlocking the black sedan's huge trunk, he stared at their bags sitting beside each other. Reaching to grab her large bag and his tiny one, he thought as usual she'd packed way more than she needed and his chest hurt as the painful memories of their happy summer trip assaulted him.

"I miss you," he said out loud.

Chest aching, physical pain smashed into him just just like someone had punched him, and he reached out and grabbed the truck's lid while his gut excruciatingly tightened. His other hand trembled as he denied the terrible urge to punch the car's trunk, as it almost over powered him, and he had to stop himself from punching metal until he couldn't punch anymore, his hands be damned.

Right, his mind said, it will be no big deal to lie next to the woman you love in a queen sized bed, to lie next to the woman who doesn't want you anymore and ache from needing to touch her.

Are you sure you don't like torture? He thought as he slammed the truck shut.

#####OQ#####

Okay, I know I should be updating my other story but this one was truly smothering me. At least 2 or more chapters left on this one. Please talk to me if you have time. Reviews are my lifeline. LOL And as always thanks for the read.

Anyone want to hear Felicity's POV next?

I've also been writing on Tumblr today. I think I've cracked who Felicity's new boyfriend is on the show. I welcome you to read my Tumblr post "And Will the New Felicity's Boyfriend Please Stand Up?" I'm quart1146 there too and on twitter. Come on I if you follow me, I'll follow you.