Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing in the sandbox.
This fic was written for a writing battle at gameofcards on livejournal using the prompt "midnight interludes." It's set sometime between S3 and S4.
Felicity woke up to find him gone sometimes, and the sheets next to her cold. Sometimes she was lucky and he was next to her when she woke up, but it was always hit or miss with Oliver. She knew that the years on the island and what he had been forced to do since haunted him. In the worst moments, when he thought she wasn't looking, it broke her heart to see the pain on his face. She would find him standing or sitting outside sometimes, but more often than not she found him sitting in their kitchen with a cup of coffee and no shirt on, just like this morning.
The scars from his days as the Arrow were still there, some of them even visible on his skin than they had seemed before. The worst were the scars that did not mark his skin. It was not hard for her to see his pain and the haunted look in his eyes. She knew that Lian Yu still pained him; she knew that everything they had lost working as the Arrow still stung bitterly – seeing Tommy and his mother die and losing Sara hurt him deeper than he was willing to acknowledge. She also knew that even though they were happy together, everything they had given up when they walked away still hurt, too. Especially what had happened with John. He had not spoken to Oliver since he had lain down the quiver and walked away and she knew that it was like a knife being twisted in his gut, even if he never said a word to her.
It was always easy for Felicity to tell when he was thinking about Starling City or Lian Yu or Maseo – of everything that he was trying so hard to put behind him. But when he thought of Diggle – of the brother he had had and hurt so very badly – she could see the way his jaw tightened and his hands gripped whatever he was holding harder. She could see the ache in his chest in the way he set his shoulders and tried to keep it inside. She could see the regret in his eyes and how he looked at the blank screen of the phone in front of him as if he was hoping John would finally call.
The look in his eyes made her want to call John herself and force them to make up, but she understood why John had not reached out. What Oliver had done had hurt them both. They trusted him, but he had refused to trust them in return. Felicity understood better than anyone what it was like to lose faith in Oliver. She loved him, but that did not make it any easier for her to deal with – or for her to help Oliver deal with John turning his back on him.
Cool night air flowed through the house, sending a chill up Felicity's spine. If she did not live with Oliver Queen, she might have been concerned that the window was open in the dead of night. But she knew that Oliver was keeping watch, just like he always did when he could not sleep.
Their eyes met for a moment when she entered the kitchen, then Oliver looked back down at his coffee. The exhaustion was written in his face and the way his shoulders were hunched. Nightmares again, she guessed. He hardly seemed to sleep sometimes. If it was not the nightmares, it was the guilt. And if it was not the guilt it was one of the other burdens he bore.
She crossed the room and took his hand, smiling weakly when he looked up at her. He squeezed her hand gently, his face so stoic it almost reminded her of his time with the League of Assassins – and that almost made her heart stop. She picked up his coffee and led him over to their couch. She set the mug on the side table and grabbed the blanket she had left over the back when they had gone to bed. Oliver did not say a word; he just let her settle him down on the couch and curl up next to him. She did not even have to ask what was wrong. She just leaned against him, one gentle finger tracing the scars on his chest as he watched. Sometimes the quiet was all he needed – sometimes it was all they needed. There was a time for talking and a time for silence
The silence was peaceful after years of chaos – it was also completely alien after those years. It was not that she was not grateful for those silent moments with Oliver where it was just the two of them – but sometimes she wondered how long it would be before the other shoe dropped. With a soft sigh, she let that thought go, focusing on Oliver's breathing instead.
By the time the sun came up, they were both asleep again.