Prompt from hassana: Oliver and Felicity watch TASM2.
I've only watched this movie once since it was in theaters. It hurt too much. As a result, references to the film are pretty vague since I don't remember details like lines of dialogue, therefore a little prior knowledge may be necessary, but you should be fine if you haven't seen the movie.
Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow, Spider-Man or any characters affiliated. I however, have a father that's probably somewhere wincing at me for throwing DC and Marvel universes together.
"Oliver?"
Truth be told, he's not entirely sure why he's standing outside Felicity's door. All he knows is that it's Sunday, he had nothing to do and Thea had been chiding him for never going out to do anything or having friends. So he'd grabbed the first movie from the stack of DVDs on the entertainment center and walked out the door with no particular destination in mind.
He ended up at the front door of Felicity's townhouse because somehow, his autopilot always seemed to lead him to her.
Oliver gives her a bashful look and holds up the DVD case as his own form of an olive branch. "Think you're up for a movie with your favorite ex-billionaire?"
He expects her to turn him down, knows she has every reason to, but if he's learned anything these past years it's that she never stops defying his expectations. He grins like the careless fool she brings out of him when she gives him a hesitant smile, and opens the door a little wider to let him in.
"Who ever said you're my favorite?" Felicity teases, and the playful sparkle in her eyes makes his heart flutter just a little (a lot). The easy rapport is there, a little rusty from abandonment over the past weeks, but it's there and the vice around his heart loosens as the casual comfort of it all washes over him.
She ushers him in, the familiar bright space welcoming him. They move around one another easily, like navigating the same space is still second nature to both of them despite the awkward dance of avoidance they've been doing these past weeks. Oliver knows his way around her place, drops onto the couch like he'd done a thousand times over the past summer. Felicity follows suit, moves a stack of files onto the coffee table and snatches his peace offering from his hands.
"Spider-Man 2?" She quirks an eyebrow at him, and Oliver leans over the glance at the title on the case.
"I may have borrowed it from Thea's movie collection."
"The Andrew Garfield version. Your sister has good taste." Felicity says, in that voice she uses when she's talking tech or arguing with Roy over his choice of cellphone; the voice that lets Oliver know she knows what she's talking about and is not going to be swayed in her opinion.
Oliver shrugs, "Never saw the first one," and Felicity scoffs, moving to place the DVD in the player and snagging the remote on her way back. He can't help but notice that she settles just a little closer to him than she was, then tucks her feet under her and curls into the cushion.
The familiarity is nice, and it doesn't surprise him that images of the past summer are at the forefront of his mind: the two of them on the same couch, passing a carton of take-out between themselves, calm nights with her leaned against his side while an old sitcom plays on the tv, her toes tucked under his thighs and files spread all over the room to prepare for meetings with investors, her head cushioned against his chest on that one night she'd been too tired to drive herself home and they both crashed on her couch. They're nice memories, and Oliver pushes away the ache when he remembers how he screwed it all up.
Twenty minutes into the movie and he starts to think maybe this wasn't the best choice of film. Felicity shifts in her seat, looks at her nails and the wall and a throw pillow and anywhere but the scene playing out on screen. It doesn't take much imagination for Oliver to figure out why.
It's too familiar an argument, hits too close to home for the both of them.
"Felicity, I-"
She shakes her head, defiant and effectively silences anything he was about to say. "No, Oliver. I get it. We don't need to talk about it."
He nods, and turns back to the TV even though he's entirely sure nothing is okay, but he'll let her have this; let her make the decision not to talk about it if that's what she wants. He's made so many choices for the both of them, he can let her call the shots here.
It's quiet between them for a while, the only sound in the room is the teary actress delivering her monologue, all blonde hair and sad eyes, reminding him too much of another conversation that ended with another blonde walking away.
It's Oliver that breaks the silence eventually, after the Gwen leaves and Peter is left looking broken on sidewalk. "You know, it makes a lot less sense when they say it like that," he's going for light and teasing, but the words catch in his throat and fall between them, weighted and clouding the air.
Felicity shakes her head again, looks anywhere but at him, "Yeah, it doesn't always make a whole lot of sense the way you said it either." Her voice comes out small and quiet, like she's not sure if she really wants the words to make the trip to his ears. They do, and they hit Oliver with a force that nearly knocks the wind out of him. It leaves him breathless and searching for words of his own but coming up empty.
He opens his mouth once, twice, but nothing comes out. She has a way of doing that; leaving him stumbling on his own feet and grasping for something to hold onto when she's managed to turn his world upside down with a few words and a swish of her ponytail.
His hand reaches out for her, halts halfway and lands between them on the couch cushion instead. Part of him wishes she'd look at him, but another part knows that if she did, any resolve he's managed to hold onto would crumble.
"I'm sorry, Felicity." He says, and the words are ones he's said a million times and always meant when it came to her.
"I know," her voice catches, muffled by the hand that hides her face from view. "I know you are, Oliver, but being sorry isn't always enough."
He reaches for her again and his fingers find their destination on her shoulder this time. It hurts more than anything she could've said when she shrugs away from his touch.
Eventually, they turn back to the movie. Oliver stares determinedly at the screen the entire time, but every time Gwen comes on screen, it's another blonde that he sees.