Intermission

By JA Ingram

(Cjjingram on Tumblr and LaDemonessa on AO3)

Based on the following Tumblr post:

FOR REAL THO

SUNDAY, 10 JANUARY 2016

Originally posted by mrsd923

Where are the 3x20 fics between the sex scene and the drugging scene?

Where is Felicity getting some real admiration for his body in as Oliver gets dressed again? How she's seen his chest so often but wow, he was really hiding that butt from her, wasn't he?

Where is Oliver finding that robe for her and them laughing about Ra's laying out the honeymoon suite?

Where is Felicity draping that robe around her shoulders and Oliver gazing into her eyes as he ties it into place for her?

Where is her complaining that it's too short and shouldn't it reach her knees and Oliver's hands dancing just below the hemline and telling her that it's perfect?

POSTED 13 HOURS AGO | 137 NOTES

#OLICITY #OLICITY FIC REQUEST #SERIOUSLY HOW HAVE WE NOT WRITTEN THE THING #UNLESS THE THING HAS BEEN WRITTEN AND I MISSED THE THING #IN WHICH CASE PLEASE DIRECT ME TO THE THING #BUT PLEASE LETS DO THE THING

For mrsd923, i-m-a-fan-world, olicityaddicted, and yespleasehawkeye

Enjoy!

-Jen

They'd lain in bed for several moments afterward, both needing to catch their breath. His hands never stopped touching her though. They ran over her skin in straight lines and curves, drawing circles before dancing over her hip like he was painting her flesh in invisible ink.

Dig would sometimes make fun of Oliver's 'tell' when he wasn't around, of his curious habit of flicking the archer's callus on his forefinger with his thumb. Felicity would buy Oliver all kinds of lotions and callus removers, but he never used them claiming that they'd make his fingers too slick to use the bow. She'd argue that if it split and got infected, he couldn't use a bow then either, but he ignored her. Truth was, the callus had become kind of a worry stone for him; a habit he'd developed to offer him comfort and keep him grounded in times of stress.

That's what his touch against her skin felt like now. She couldn't blame him for it though, because she felt the same way. Time was running out for them, hours passing like minutes, so the almost frantic movements of his hands as he ran his fingertips over her ribcage and hip were his way of grounding himself in the moment. It was like that for her as well which is why she didn't complain when his fingers skimmed over her ticklish spots, or about the harsh scruff of his beard when he kissed her even though the sharp stubble scraped unpleasantly over her upper lip.

They were both memorizing the moment in their own ways, even though this wasn't exactly the moment she wanted to remember. She'd dreamed of being with Oliver for so long but not like this. This wasn't her dream moment with him but it was their moment and, for better or for worse, it was what it was.

The moment she'd envisioned for them was supposed to come the night of their disastrous first date. When she'd gotten ready that night, she had an entire evening planned complete with new underwear and fresh sheets on the bed. Felicity wasn't particularly 'experienced' sexually having only had one other sexual partner at the time (not that she felt like thinking about Cooper at the moment, or even Ray who would go on to become her second lover instead of him), but she'd never been shy about sex. She knew where she and Oliver had been headed since their moment on the beach, and the entire summer had been filled with slow touches and lingering looks. It had been lovely, if not frustrating, and despite the sighs and eye rolls by Dig and Roy, Felicity had allowed Oliver the time he needed to ease into the idea of them crossing that barrier. However, had it been solely up to her, she would've simply invited him back to her place the minute they landed in Starling and he never would've needed that mattress she bought him in the first place.

She'd tried a few times to speed things along. She even offered him the use of her place, specifically her bed, when she pulled the odd overnighter at her first job at Kord Industries following the shutdown of QC—not that it had lasted long. The money had been good but the temp job didn't come with benefits, plus the team needed her to be available at night, so she took the manager job at Tech Village instead, but none of that mattered now because Oliver never took her up on her offer. In fact, it kind of scared him away for a while so she never asked again.

It was then Felicity realized that she had to revise her strategy when it came to him. As aggressive and assertive as he was in the field, when it came to relationships, Oliver was a bit squirrelly to say the least. More than once that summer Felicity had to bite down on the urge to simply come right out and say, 'Let's just cut to the chase already and have sex?' But, she didn't; instead she let him take the lead and simply swallowed her frustration while enjoying every lingering touch and teasing glance while awaiting the inevitable.

So she waited, and waited, and waited, until he finally came out and asked her to dinner, and even though she knew he probably wouldn't go for it that night, that he'd milk the slow burn between them for as long as possible, she prepared for it anyway. Felicity had gone to the salon and had everything waxed, bought some really nice lingerie that she technically couldn't afford, then dug out a cocktail dress she bought before the good paychecks had stopped rolling in but one that she hadn't worn before. She made sure her house was clean and that there were no dust bunnies under her bed. She even stocked up on the good condoms and bought an extra toothbrush, just in case.

After all Felicity was a planner and nothing if not practical and efficient.

But that night never came for them. Some asshat with a bazooka had made sure of that, but had things gone the way she wanted them to, that would've been the memory she'd be able to draw on now. They would've had their dinner before he took her home and walked her to her door. She would've offered to let him come in and he would've objected a bit before kissing her goodnight.

In her dreams, that one kiss would lead to another and, before they knew it, they'd be stumbling over the threshold as she led him to her bedroom door. They'd undress each other in a flurry of movement, mouths locked together before they tumbled into bed.

Or maybe not. Maybe it would've been less frantic, more sensual instead. In a surprising move, instead of playing coy and turning down her offer of a nightcap, Oliver would kiss her slowly before taking the keys from her hand and opening the door. He'd lead her inside before silently asking permission then take her to bed, his movements sure and steady as he made love to her for the very first time.

In any case, no matter how it happened in her dreams, it was supposed to be the beginning of their story together, not the end of it. It was always a dream of their first time, not their last.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Felicity turned her head and saw the acceptance of that fact written all over his face; this was the end. The sex had been fantastic; it was slow and filled with passion, both of them had been assertive in their lovemaking and taken what they needed from it, but there had been a heaviness to it as well. He didn't kiss her like a man in love, even though he did; he kissed her like a man who knew he would never have this moment with her ever again. That's what she saw in his eyes now. He wasn't looking at her like this was the first of many quiet moments spent in post-coital bliss, he was memorizing her face like she was memorizing his. He wasn't touching her to say, 'I love you', he was touching her to say 'goodbye'.

As happy as she was to finally have this moment with him, it took everything she had in her not to burst into tears because of that.

This was supposed to be her happy moment, this was supposed to be their happily ever after.

Instead it was The End.

Felicity bit her bottom lip and stared at him. There was so much she wanted to say, but there wasn't anything to say. The answer was there in the way he looked back at her, in the way his eyes appeared pink and irritated from tears and lack of sleep, not to mention the tension in his mouth and the deepening of the lines at the corners of his eyes.

Oliver lifted his hand and brought it to her mouth, his thumb liberating her bottom lip from the grip of her teeth before he leaned in to kiss her softly. He'd been so tender with her when they made love, just like he was being tender now. Somehow she'd always known he would be. Oliver had always been so gentle with her, his fingers barely resting on her skin as if he were afraid she'd break if he pressed too hard.

He touched her like she could break at any moment and that's exactly what she felt like; like she was breaking into a thousand pieces and, even if she found a way to glue herself back together, she'd never be the same. There would always be an invisible crack in the center of her chest; a missing piece.

She swallowed her tears as she kissed him back and felt the displacement of air as he shushed her.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"You couldn't tell?" she burst out with something between a laugh and a sob.

He smiled, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepening as he looked down at her, "I kind of thought so but I wanted to make sure."

"It was wonderful," she said, running her fingertips over his cheeks and enjoying the texture of the rough stubble.

"You're wonderful," he said reverently.

She felt her mouth tighten as she fought to keep her tears from falling and he gathered her into his chest, kissing her hair and face soothingly, "No," he told her, "no crying. You're not allowed to cry, remember? I need to you be strong for me. I can't do this unless you help me get through it so no more tears, okay?"

"I can't help it," she sniffled.

"I know," he sighed shakily. He pulled away and gave her another slightly forced smile as his thumbs brushed away the tears on her cheeks, "Keep it up and you're going to make me think I've lost my touch or something." She offered him a shaky smile even though smiling was the last thing she felt like doing and he gave her an encouraging look, "That's better," he said quietly.

Felicity let out a breath slowly as she got her emotions back under control, "I love you."

Oliver's face stilled, his eyes growing heavy as his smile faded, "I love you, too."

There was something about the way he said it that told her it was the last time those words would ever pass his lips.

She didn't have a watch but she knew from the look on his face that the sun would be up soon and, once that happened, she, Dig, and Thea would be forced to leave him behind. She also knew that, when the moment came, he wouldn't tell her he loved her. He'd say goodbye, but that's it, so this moment was all they'd ever have.

Saying 'I love you' was a promise; it was a statement of intent that meant they'd have a future together. Since they didn't have a future, it was the last time Oliver would ever tell her he loved her.

Oliver Queen was many things; a hero, a killer, a warrior, a flawed human being, but he had more integrity than any other person Felicity had ever known. Not many people could see that other than her, but it was true. When Oliver gave his word to someone, he kept it. That may not have always been the case, but it was the man he'd become, the man she knew, and he'd never broken his promises to her.

Until now.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a land far, far away, he promised he'd never leave her. She could tell from the expression on his face that he regretted the fact that he had no other choice but to break that promise. She also knew he wasn't going to compound his sins against her by breaking another.

"Stay here," he said, slipping out of bed. She automatically latched onto his hand to stop him but he squeezed her fingers and gave her a reassuring look, "I'm coming back, I promise."

"Another promise," she murmured then regretted it as she saw his face flush and his eyes darken with pain.

Gathering her courage, she offered him a smile and nodded reluctantly before releasing his hand, then lay back on the bed, pulling the heavy raw silk duvet against her bare breasts. She watched as he walked naked across the room, apparently immune to the chill in the air as he made his way over to the basin and wet a towel before cleaning off his genitals.

There was no shame in his movements, no hesitation at exposing himself to her, nor did he bother to draw the curtain across the entry arch to the bathroom. Oliver had never been shy about his body but, even though they'd just had sex, it still kind of surprised her a little that he would already be so comfortable with her. She watched as he wet another cloth and brought it over, reaching for the covers.

"I can do that," she objected, already anticipating what he was planning to do.

He gave her a mildly rebuking look, "Let me. Please."

It was the 'please' that did it for her. She released her hold on the sheets and lay back as he opened her thighs and cleaned her, his movements gentle but efficient. He didn't ogle her or make it weird; just cleaned her up like he'd done it for her a thousand times before, but he wasn't clinical or cold either. There was an intensity to his expression as he bathed his fluids from her thighs like he was memorizing this moment as well.

When he was done, he cast the cloth into the corner and looked at her, his gaze beginning to heat up as efficiency gave way to passion. He started on her thighs and sex, before drawing his eyes up her stomach to her breasts. He paused there and she could see him taking in the pebbling of her nipples and the goosebumps breaking out on her skin as a cool breeze swept through the room from an open window. His lips parted slightly as he moved up her throat to her mouth before finally looking into her eyes. There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again, "Are you cold?"

"A little," she said in a hush, speaking quietly so as not to spook him as ridiculous as that sounded.

His lips twitched upwards as though reading her mind. Again he left her side but she didn't stop him. When he came back, in his hands was some sort of robe, like a short kimono or men's silk happi.

"There's a set of bottoms, too, but they're a little long so I figured you could make do," Oliver said with a slightly sheepish grin.

Deciding to play along, if for no other reason than to make up for her earlier verbal gaffe, she followed his lead.

"Really," she said as she took the black embroidered silk bundle from him and examined it for a moment before raising an eyebrow in his direction, "Or is it that you just don't want me putting on pants yet?"

He broke out into a grin and leaned down to brush his mouth across hers, "Guilty as charged," he murmured.

Feeling a bit emboldened by that, she folded back the covers and got out of bed slowly, allowing him to cast his eyes down her form as she slipped her arms through the sleeves, teasing him a bit by allowing it to cover her breasts but not tying the belt. She let her eyes linger on his pointedly before tilting her head and flicking her eyes downward. "It's a little short, don't you think?" Felicity said, indicating the hemline that barely reached the tops of her thighs and the slits on the sides that would've exposed her panties had she been wearing any.

"It's perfect," he said huskily as he stepped closer, his eyes never wavering from hers as he tied the robe shut for her. His hands then dropped to her thighs to finger the hem, "Besides, you've worn shorter dresses."

She snorted at that, a bubble of laughter erupting from deep inside her chest, "I don't remember that."

"I do," Oliver said in a low rumble. He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers reminding her that he was still very naked as his fingers drew across her thighs to caress the curve of her bottom. He leaned into her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear before whispering, "I remember the first time I saw you in that gold cocktail dress when we went after the Dodger, the one that came up to here." His finger found the slit on her thigh, causing her eyes to close and a gasp to escape her lips. "It was the first time I'd ever seen you like that. I almost didn't recognize you."

"Let me guess," she said shakily, "that's when you started falling for me, right?"

"No," he said easily, leaning back far enough to look into her eyes, "I knew I wanted you long before that."

"How long?" she found herself asking, not even daring to blink.

"Longer than you'll ever know. Probably longer than I even know," he admitted. "There were so many times over the years that I wanted you, Felicity." She could see the raw emotion in his eyes as he spoke, each word delivered with a certain weight behind it, like he was confessing his sins, "So many times I found myself reaching for you and the only thing that stopped me was the fact that Diggle was in the room, but that was the first time I was ever grateful to have an entire roomful of people between us because the minute I saw you standing there," hips lips lifted in a melancholy smile, "It was all I could do not to…" he shook his head ruefully, "walk across the room and take that dress off of you right then and there. That's the minute I knew for sure that I was way over my head when it came to you. I already knew I was attracted to you, but that's the moment that I realized I couldn't ignore it anymore." He looked at her again, "That's the moment that I knew this was inevitable; that not only were we going to wind up in bed together, but I was going to..." his gaze faltered and he let his sentence hang in the air between them.

That's the moment I knew I was going to fall in love with you.

"I wish you'd said that sooner," she said, unable to stop herself from answering his unspoken words to her.

His mouth tightened and he swallowed before looking away for a second. When his eyes found hers again, she could see some deep-felt emotion shining out of them, "I do, too. More than anything. I regret a lot of things, Felicity, but right now that's one of the ones at the top of my list."

She wanted to say something, make some quip about how she doubted he regretted it more than getting on the boat or the bad haircut he'd been sporting in that picture that used to be on his mother's desk, but she couldn't. She couldn't say anything because if they both started talking about regrets it would swallow up what little time they had left, time that could be better spent in other ways.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said then winced in embarrassment.

His lips twitched upwards as he looked to her in a mixture of amusement and gratitude. "Go on, I'll wait for you out here," he said before leaning in to kiss her again.

Felicity blushed as he released her mouth then hitched her head towards the bathroom, "Be right back."

She awkwardly walked towards the archway leading to the bathroom and snuck one last glance at Oliver as he bent down to retrieve his discarded clothes. She watched the play of the candlelight over the muscles of his back, then lingered over his sex as it lay heavy against his thigh and stood there taking all of it in, memorizing every inch of him.

"I thought you needed to use the bathroom?" he said, making her jump slightly.

His eyes danced with amusement and she knew he knew exactly what it was she was doing.

"Uh yeah, I was just…" she cringed and hurried into the other room, his soft laughter following her.

Felicity pulled the curtain closed then quickly used the facilities before stepping into the tub to give her sex and thighs a more thorough washing. She didn't linger; again, time was not on their side and she didn't want to waste a second of it.

When she was done and standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hastily brushing the snarls from her hair, she caught her reflection and paused.

Her eyes were bright, skin flushed from the scrape of Oliver's beard. Her lips were slightly swollen and her lipstick completely gone.

She looked like a woman who had been well loved.

Felicity froze.

This couldn't be the end. This couldn't be the last time she ever saw that woman in the mirror staring back at her.

She looked towards the curtain that separated them and saw the hazy line of Oliver's body as he stared out over the darkness, his back towards her. Felicity put down the brush and peeked out of the entry way toward a low table in the corner with a decanter and two cups then at her discarded jeans that Oliver, in his haste, had flung across the room.

Earlier when everyone else had been distracted by Thea, Felicity had taken the opportunity to grab some of the drug the priestess had used on her. At the time she wasn't sure what she was going to do with it, but she'd been with Team Arrow long enough to know to take advantage of anything that could be used as a potential weapon whenever possible. Originally she'd intended to give it to Oliver to use against Ra's in case he forced them to duel again. It would be cheating but, as far as she was concerned, turnabout was fair play. After all, Ra's cheated when he forced Oliver to climb a mountain in the middle of a snow storm while he rested his heels comfortably at the top, then immediately made him engage in a battle to the death without giving him a chance to so much as catch his breath. She wasn't sure if Oliver would take it or not, but she planned on at least giving him the option. Now though…

She licked her lips as she reached out to snatch her jeans off the floor and pulled the small packet of powder from her pocket. Now maybe she could use it to save his life another way.

This wasn't going to be the end of their story, not if she could help it.