Hi! Here goes a little fun one-shot I wrote as a response to the following prompt by 'makepatronusesnothorcruxes' at tumblr:

"Oliver and Felicity are caught in a compromising position (though they aren't in a relationship)"

Enjoy!

STUCK TO YOU

"Oliver? –Oliver! There you are!"

Swiveling around in his chair Oliver lowered his legs from the desk opening his eyes to the sound of her voice.

"Hey" came his sleepy reply.

At his exhaustion her annoyance for his disappearance lowered. It had been a few hard weeks for everyone and, though he was reluctant to say it, the pressure of his double life had been taking a huge toll on him. Being a CEO and fighting with Isabel was definitely something the island hadn't trained him for. Add to that nights of fighting and jumping off buildings, the weight of the city's safety on his shoulders, and Oliver was spent.

So Felicity softened her features and put aside work for a moment, stashing the company's papers on his desk –or was it Thea's now?

"It can wait" she mumbled at his quizzical look, trying to respect the near-silence that remained in the little office, only the booming sound of the music downstairs crawling its way in, though faint, muffled by the soundproof walls. Surely that's why he had chosen this hideout to get away from it all.

A grateful smile tugged at Oliver's lips by her words as he ran a heavy hand over his face, willing himself awake. Though he hardly ever talked about it, she knew he had trouble sleeping; one of the many scars the island had left him with.

"You okay?" she dared to ask, already expecting a white lie on her behalf.

He nodded humbly, only hesitating for a second and then taking a deep breath.

Closing his eyes he leaned back on his chair again, relaxing visibly. Though normal enough from everyone else, Oliver being this carefree and having his guard down was a rare occurrence; one Felicity was still getting used to but was more than grateful for.

Silence stretched on as she circled the desk, stopping before him, pondering how to offer comfort. He had warned her once before not to startle him when he was unaware, scared of how he would react as instinct would take over. So she was thankful when cobalt eyes opened and met her own.

A crease appeared on his forehead and before she could ask he was standing inches away from her, right hand raised to lightly trace the scar on her forehead.

She flinched as the memory of the triad assassins, gun against her head and warm blood cascading down her face, an acute pain all too real for a simple thought; Oliver's gentle touch a stark contrast to the harsh reality that had brought her her first war wound.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked, eyes boring into hers, silently begging her for the truth, unlike the ones he usually muttered.

"Barely" she let out instead. A pregnant pause followed her statement; there was more to it and he knew it.

Tilting her head upwards he made her look his way, blue eyes pleading. 'You can trust me'.

"It's just… it get worse, at nights." Her words hanged in the air; he knew all too well what she was implying, having experienced it firsthand countless times. So he knew there was little he could say to make it better, instead he chose to give her the little comfort that could be offered.

His broad arms encircled her waist, pulling her to his chest. At first she froze, not expecting this reaction. A gentle hand pressed against her lower back sent warmth all over her body, making her realize Oliver was hugging her.

Minutes before she was the one offering comfort, though damaged now, she knew Oliver had far more demons that she could fathom. Maybe this was his way of reaching out. She sure as hell wasn't gonna question it.

So she raised her arms that had been limp beside her body and hugged him back hesitantly, almost expecting him to pull away any minute.

To her surprise he didn't, instead a hand started rubbing soothing circles against the small of her back, while the other slid up to her neck, gently pressing her head towards him.

She took his lead, her body now laying flush against him, blue eyes closing at his touch. Her head lay on the crook of his should and neck.

"I'm sorry." His voice came muffled against her hair.

There it was: Oliver's ever-present guilt.

"It's not your fault." She could already feel him starting to complain so she beat him to it. "It doesn't matter how it happened. We made it through it. I'm alive."

'I'm alive'.

Her words resonated in his ears. How could that simple fact change his whole life?

He had been repressing his feelings for both of their sakes for too long and, as much as he wanted to throw caution out the window, he wasn't ready. So he swallowed his words and hugged her tighter instead.

Enveloped in his arms time flew by and for once she gave up trying to decipher this, their unique dynamic. She got lost in him, rich smell that could only be described as Oliver's, his warm breath fanning down her neck.

Minutes later, too soon if you asked her, his hand disentangled from her hair and lowered to her waist, lightly drawing her back from the embrace. She complied and leaned back, eyes meeting his. There they stayed for a second, then two, his hands still on her and hers on his chest, inquisitive eyes on his as a troubled thought clouded his features again.

"I'm fine, Oliver", she breathed reassured.

"No, that's not it. I'm stuck."

A beat passed as she wondered if that was the moment when he would acknowledge whatever they were, or could be. The moment he would choose to move on from the hold the island had on him; to allow himself to really live and wish for things.

"My watch, it's stuck on your sweater."

Guess not.

Turning her head around she saw it: the silver rolex in his right hand had got caught on the back of her woven sweater. Oliver tried and failed to tug his hand free.

"Don't pull that hard!" she shrieked and he stopped yanking. "It's my favorite sweater" she offered as explanation.

"I can't see anything from here, the best way would be to pull it free… I could buy you a new one?" he offered in return.

"No can do. My nana wove it before I left to college, and has been with me ever since. Don't you dare pull it apart, Queen" she finished, a light threat tainted her words, one that prompted a nod from him.

Felicity fidgeted in the tiny space; Oliver kept bringing her closer, trying to get a better look over her shoulder at the tangled mess, and pressing her further into his chest in the process. This new approach wasn't working that well either.

She scoffed at their situation. Minutes before she had been more than happy to be this close to him; now she prayed to get away and soon, before she blushed and he caught her flustered by him, once again.

"It's really stuck".

"No shit, Sherlock." At her swearing Oliver leaned back and met her eyes, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, I swear when I'm nervous. It's either that or rambling"

He smiled warmly and got back to work as she tried her best to think about anything other than their current situation.

"Maybe I shouldn't have worn it here… but it's so cold in the basement! I swear I don't know how you can walk around shirtless there at nights." Off-topic, Felicity. Stay in a safe-thinking zone.

"God, I knew I should've had an arrow cave outfit to change into after the office! I'm the only one who doesn't have a superhero costume; Dig with the leather jackets, even Roy has his new power hood now!"

Oliver laughed at her antics. "And there's the rambling".

She shifted in the spot and gave him a pleading look, one she hoped conveyed 'please save my favorite sweater'.

"Turn around" came his response.

"What?!"

"So I can see better and unhook it without tearing the fabric." Though he looked serious she could see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes.

Again she did as told, not having a better idea at the moment, and turned to her right until she was facing his desk. Oliver was behind her then, his right hand firmly planted on her lower back.

He set to work, cursing under his breath as it turned out to be harder than he thought. Though skilled, his fingers weren't as small or deft as hers and he couldn't set his watch free.

She set her hands against the top of the desk, arching her back towards him to provide better access. His breath hitched slightly at the sight, mentally berating himself for that train of thought. As quickly as it came he shook it off.

"Could I try something?" he asked. She simply nodded; her heart beat speeding as his left arm encircled her waist and once against her stomach lightly pulled the sweater tighter to her body, hitching it up slightly.

It made sense, as the knot would loosen and maybe he could even pull it off her, making it easier to handle; still that thought did little to calm her rapidly beating heart as he laid his head against her back, tilted downwards.

This will be the death of me, she thought as his warm breath caressed her neck, goose bumps erupting on her skin.

Behind her Oliver cleared his throat trying to hide the fact that he was as affected by their closeness as she was. This wasn't the time for those thoughts, but how many times had he pictured them being like this… a detail or two different.

Trying his best he focused on the damned watch, hating and loving the predicament it had put them into. A fine thread of the delicate fabric threatened to break loose, another tightly gripped to the locking clasp of the silver watch, making it impossible to take off.

Just one time holding her close, one time that he had indulged himself running his hand down her back after having suppressed the urge for so long; and here they were. Was this some kind of sign he should stay away, or that he should be closer?

Before he could make up his mind the door burst open, the booming sound of the club's music sneaking inside, awakening him of the Felicity-daze he had been on. Oliver looked up, both relief and anger for the intrusion taking over him; and feeling more than hearing Felicity's gasp against him.

Diggle stood by the door, eyes wide open taking in the scene before him.

For a moment they were all speechless, the door closing behind their trusted friend making the silence between them noticeable. It took seconds for Felicity to register what they must look like not knowing the context.

She was leaned towards Oliver's side of the desk; palms pushing on its surface for leverage, back arched towards him. Oliver's left hand still lay flushed against her stomach, his front barely inches away from her back, his head leaned against the back of her head. Not to mention he had shrugged of his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt's sleeves, in what was his casual look.

She could make up the moment Diggle concluded what was happening as his eyes widened, if that was even possible. Abruptly, she pulled herself forward and as far away from Oliver as the space allowed, needing to break their contact to regain her composure.

"This –it's not what it looks like" she stuttered mortified, crimson red taking over her normally pale complexion.

Oliver simply stood wordless beside her, trying and failing to explain what had happened without it sounding like an utter lie.

He had stood in this position countless times before with his father, even her mother, whenever they had caught him and a lady friend being more than friendly in various places at the Queen mansion. The difference being back then his parents assumed correctly as what was going on, and he hadn't really cared at all. Getting caught was part of the thrill after all. But this was different.

This was Felicity, not a nameless nobody, the intruder was his best friend, who would more than likely confront, or even complain to him later about it and they hadn't really been caught red-handed. He wished that was the reason they were in that position though.

"We can explain…" Felicity began to try to clarify what had happened when Diggle's laugh broke the silence.

"I don't even want to know" he said, shaking his head. "Just keep it out of the foundry… at least when I'm in there."

With one final raised-eyebrow-look at Oliver he walked out, leaving the door ajar, as if silently saying the show was over. They had to work after all.

Oliver shook his head, wondering how his day ended up like this. When he cast a look at Felicity he saw her still staring at the door, agape, surely wondering what the hell had just happened. Then his thoughts snapped to just that, eyes darting to her lower back where her sweater got snagged.

On instinct he reached for her, running his fingers over the small hole in the cloth. She half turned at his touch and pouted noticing the torn fabric.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, not really sure if for the sweater or the awkward moment they'd just gone through; maybe both.

She let in a deep breath and shook her head, as if trying to convince herself. "It's fine. It was just a sweater."

Felicity was half-way pulling it off over her head when the music blasted inside again. They both turned to the door in perfect sync, apparently with guilt written all over their faces.

Thea Queen gaped at them for merely a second before a wide grin took over her delicate features.

"It's about damned time!" she beamed appreciatively.

"Thea, it's not–"

"–what it looks like?" she finished. "Oh please Ollie I'm a grown up, and I've seen you two doing this hot and cold dance for long enough to know it was about to blow up any minute now. And I completely approve, by the way" she paused for a moment, her smile faltering, "just not in my office if you can help it."

Felicity thought of stepping in but saw it was useless; Thea had made up her mind. And, after all, she wasn't wrong. Then Roy walked up to Thea's side, brow furrowing at the scene unfolding there.

"What's–?"

"I'll fill you up downstairs, Harper" she quipped in a chipper voice, then addressed her brother and his… girlfriend now? "I'll give you two a minute". With that they were gone, an almost silence enveloping the room again.

"Great! Now everyone here thinks we're sleeping together as well. It was more than enough with the whole crew at Queen Consolidated thinking so." Felicity snapped, gathering her papers and bee-lining for the door.

"Wait, you knew about that?" Oliver asked, close behind her.

She shot him a not-amused look before the door shut behind them.

It was barely a few days after that memorable night when Felicity entered the lair and found her sweater neatly folded over her desk; Oliver's scrawny handwriting scribbled on a piece of a paper atop it.

"To many more memories. May the super-hero outfit come next."

Thanks for reading! As always, encouragement or constructive criticism is greatly appreciated :)