Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any profit off of Arrow. It belongs to The CW, DC Comics, etc.
A/N: So this just came to me out of the blue and I had to write it. Random drabbles cannot be denied. And of course, the "drabble" became a monster I had to split into two parts. A few might recognize this story from my Arrow tumblr blog: HoodSmoaked.
Chapter 1: Blue Eyes
Only twenty minutes into the evening, and it had already become one of those situations when Oliver wanted to either knock himself out for the night or shoot some well-placed arrows into a few bad guys' non-vital body areas.
There was no surprise in the arrival of the Veterans Memorial Charity Gala, but as Oliver had gotten a strangely peaceful reprieve from crime-fighting action the past few weeks, he felt strongly inclined to boredom and malcontent. Especially when he was to face off at some point with Isabel, Laurel, Adam Donner, and Sebastian Blood all in the same tiring night. None of those foreseeable encounters left the resident vigilante feeling in any way relaxed.
Sighing resignedly as he spotted Isabel enter — wearing a tight chignon and yet another red dress, he noted — Oliver half-listened to one of the older department heads of Queen Consolidated prattling to him about the way things had changed for the worse in their community. Had he not been aware of his ever-precarious public image, Oliver might have snorted.
From across the room, Sebastian Blood spotted Isabel as well, and waved her over. Without hesitation, the dark-haired businesswoman headed towards her most recent ally, leaving Oliver a clear view of Laurel and Adam Donner as they entered the gala just afterward. Laurel's curly updo and full-skirted violet gown matched her well, but Oliver didn't see much that really stood out as amazingly beautiful. She looked about the same as always, and he found himself unaffected.
It was the type of observation (one of many, lately) that cemented his growing detachment from Laurel. When he couldn't find enthusiasm for her beauty, he knew he didn't love her like he thought. A man who loved her deeply would find her utterly attractive in anything from a gorgeous ball gown to a ratty old sweatshirt. That was no longer the case for Oliver — if it ever had been in the first place, which he doubted.
Another sigh — this one of relief — wound its way from Oliver's throat when the lawyer duo headed towards his mother, and the billionaire took a tiny sip of champagne to hopefully ease the consistent frustration and restlessness he felt. Having Diggle there would have helped a bit, but the former soldier was stuck in bed with an unexpected bout of stomach flu that had claimed him the day before. Without his trusted bodyguard and friend, Oliver was left to scan the assembly of elites and public figures with a bland, unenthusiastic eye.
It wasn't until another excruciating half-hour had passed that Oliver saw her — fluttering hesitantly just outside the main doorway to the room.
A vision in cornflower blue, with long simple curls and big blue eyes sparkling like crystals, Felicity Smoak did not escape his notice by a long shot.
Entranced by her simple loveliness, Oliver found a smile working its way onto his stiff, tired face.
Only half-turning towards the stale conversation he had barely listened to, Oliver said, "Excuse me" with a little more pep than before. His steps were swift and decided, no one stopping him when they noticed his single-minded determination.
Oliver noted Felicity's wistful, reluctant gaze as being riveted to the sight of his mother and sister exchanging warm words with Laurel and cordial greetings with Adam Donner. Frowning a little, Oliver wondered what made her look so strangely down.
But when he reached her in the entry to the ballroom and noticed the blonde wringing her hands and biting her vibrantly pink lower lip, Oliver choked back his questions. Clearly it was not the moment for an interrogation.
"Felicity," he murmured, stopping one foot away from her.
The tech expert jumped slightly, whipping around to face Oliver with startled eyes, which looked somehow wider and more brilliantly blue in the lower lighting of the entry.
"You said you weren't coming," the billionaire stated simply, lifting a brow in question.
"Um… I wasn't," Felicity admitted somewhat bashfully. "But I… kind of needed some space. Some things have been… a little stifling today. And you did say the invitation lasted until the party was over. I figured you wouldn't mind me bursting in on you …Not that I would be bursting in on you for anything bad. I mean, it's not like you'd be in any way undressed… Ah, I didn't mean to say that out loud! I mean, I never meant to say it in the first place! Totally not the meaning I was searching for. At all. You can just ignore me, really. Like… really, really. Why am I still talking?"
Feeling suddenly alive with Felicity babbling, gesturing, and making silly verbal slips, Oliver merely responded with a little smile, "I am happy to see you."
Reminded of his sincere response on Lian Yu several months earlier, Felicity smiled, suddenly calm as the blush faded from her cheeks.
"Same," she commented blithely, her body relaxing to the point that she no longer wrung her hands or bit her lip. Oliver felt a little surge of victory at being able to do that for his friend.
They stood side by side in comfortable silence for a time, both looking out into the ballroom at the fluctuating crowd. Oliver allowed amazement to wash over him that this very action had been so terribly annoying just minutes before, but now as he stood beside Felicity, he felt content with the simplicity of it all.
"Where's Barry?" Oliver wondered out the blue. The billionaire tried not to grimace at the thought of the forensics expert or his own atypical discomfort around the younger man, but it was odd. Barry should have been in the room by now, even if he had parked down the street in the backup lot. "Is he sick?"
"No…" Felicity hesitated, returning to biting her lip with abrupt vengeance. Oliver frowned at the sight.
In spite of Barry's constant trips between Starling and Central City, the relationship with Felicity had been good. Great, even, considering how happy Felicity had become since entering into it. Yet all was not right in paradise, it seemed.
"Are things… okay between the two of you?" Oliver asked concernedly, reaching out to settle a gentle hand on the shoulder exposed by Felicity's sleeveless gown. Concerned discussions had become much more frequent for them since Barry had come into Felicity's life, and Oliver prided himself on his increasingly natural ability to both open up and listen attentively where his brilliant friend was concerned.
"Yes, we're okay," Felicity answered with false brightness, but the tension lining her shoulders and the dull ache in her eyes bespoke another answer — one she was not keen on divulging.
Opening his mouth to inquire a little deeper into the subject, and hopefully determine what disturbed his IT girl, Oliver was thwarted by the sound of his sister's voice.
"Ollie, there you are!" a teal-clad Thea exclaimed with relief first, then instant excitement upon seeing her brother's companion. "Felicity! I'm so happy you came! Love your dress, by the way, that color is perfect on you. Why didn't I see you sooner?"
Out of all the people in his life from before the island, it was Thea who had become the most attached to Felicity over the past several months. The IT expert had no idea just how much Thea adored her for her honesty, individuality, and unique personality. Not to mention her ability to put Oliver in his place. Thea had only seen that happen once, but it had clearly stuck with her.
"Oh, thank you… I just got here," Felicity replied nervously. Thea had a way of making everyone nervous when she was excited, but Felicity more so for some reason. Oliver once asked why, but he had never gotten an answer out of her.
"Where's Barry Allen? I thought he was your go-to guy for these things," Thea asked, blunt as ever, and Oliver bit back a groan. Sometimes it paid to be less blatant.
Felicity looked highly uncomfortable, worrying Oliver, but he stepped in to give her a reprieve from Thea's probing.
"He's not feeling so well," Oliver answered for Felicity, using his own assumption to put her off.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Thea immediately apologized to Felicity, although the keen expression she threw her big brother let him know she wasn't sold. For the thousandth time in his post-island life, Oliver cursed his inability to lie in these awkward situations.
"I needed some air," Felicity offered in as offhanded a manner as she could manage. "You know, get out of the apartment for a while."
"Yeah, I know how that is," the younger Queen agreed with a nod and an indulgent smile. "Well, come on, Mom has been waiting to see you for an age, Ollie. You kept hiding in corners until Felicity got here. Lucky I checked the entrance."
"I was perfectly visible up by the stage before then," Oliver countered, forcefully reminding himself not to roll his eyes in public while he offered an arm to Felicity as a silent request. She took it without question, but avoided his gaze.
"Whatever," Thea waved him off, reaching to loop her arm through Felicity's unoccupied one. "Come on, Mom and I need another person with some good sarcasm to battle Ms. Ice Sculpture and Mr. Mayor Wannabe."
"What?" Felicity asked confusedly, until she looked up the same as Oliver, catching sight of Blood and Isabel standing in discussion with Moira, Laurel, and Donner. Off to the side of the Queen matriarch in her black velvet gown stood Roy — the poor kid looked disgruntled, terrified, and irritated all at once in the unusual group.
"Ugh. Isn't this a fun night?" Thea remarked disparagingly as the three of them walked out into the room as one and made their way towards the waiting sextet of unorthodox conversationalists.
Two hours, seventeen minutes, and a hoard of teeth-gritting barbs later, Oliver and Felicity had (between the two of them) consumed a total of five glasses of champagne. In spite of Thea wishing for Felicity's wit in the group, neither the IT expert nor Oliver had spoken much of anything aside from the initial greetings. Laurel and Isabel had done most of the barb exchange, truthfully, and the competitive edge in both of their voices whenever Oliver himself was the topic did not sit well with him. If Felicity's half-supportive, half-constricting grip on his arm was any indication, he was not the only one.
Thea had long-since disappeared with Roy in the direction of the exit. As much as Oliver didn't want to imagine what they might be doing, he really couldn't blame them for leaving in general. Moira had finally detached herself from the subtle yet intensive feud by playing off a headache and retreating to a table near the stage to prepare for the donation tallying at midnight. Oliver felt more at ease when he noticed Diggle's personal choice in bodyguard standing just behind his mother.
Inhaling awkwardly as Isabel threw out a rather insipid remark in Laurel's direction, Oliver finally decided he and Felicity needed to escape.
"Pardon me, ladies," he spoke firmly, doubting his own words for a moment and glad to see even Blood and Donner were waiting for an intervention. "I asked Felicity for a dance before the night ended, and it's almost eleven-thirty already. Excuse us."
Not waiting for a response, Oliver led Felicity to the dance floor as quickly as decorum allowed and pulled her into an easy hold. They had danced enough at these events since becoming CEO and EA that it was as natural as breathing.
"Oh, thank God," Felicity murmured, exhaling in a rush as they began to sway in time with the mild music coming from the quartet. "I thought we'd never get away from them. What is it with your old flames, anyway? They're more competitive than professional football."
Oliver hastily withheld a snort and ending up coughing instead, his eyes glittering with amusement. Felicity blushed heavily, but the humor in her eyes could not be hidden.
When he caught his breath, Oliver redirected the conversation with ease, "I don't even want to think about that terrible conversation right now. Let's just enjoy a few moments of peace, hm?"
"Oh, no," Felicity whispered with distressed eyes, glancing over Oliver's shoulder apprehensively. "Rochev is searching the room. And she doesn't look happy."
Spinning them just enough to give himself a peripheral view of the direction Felicity was staring, Oliver couldn't help but agree with her.
A/N: To be continued...