This was written in May/June 2016. Any similarities to 5x20 are purely coincidental (or not. Who knows if the writers read this stuff. But it ain't on me ;-)).
This chapter is rated "M." Warnings for too much tequila, drank with lemon (because we had lemons when I was in college, not limes), an appropriate amount of angst, and an inappropriate use of the Salmon Ladder (But not too inappropriate. Yet).
Also, I feel oblige to say don't try this at home unless you are 21. Unless you are in a country where you don't have to be 21. Then have at it.
Authors note:
This is my first time participating in a Fic Bang or any fanfiction event and it's pretty exciting. I've been obsessing over it so long I can't actually believe it is actually here. As part of the event raynadrawssomestuff made me the beautiful cover-art that you see here.
When I initially signed up for OFBB the story I was planning to write was To Sacrifice the Sun (which, hopefully, at least some of you are reading). It took me weeks to realize that there was no way that would be finished in time. Luckily, it was also just before the season 4 finally.
This story was written in a great cathartic burst starting the day after 4x23 aired until the end of June…48000 words people. It is a simple reconnecting story between Oliver and Felicity, hopefully, fun and fluffy, with a side of angst and a dose of smut.
It was written before any of the Season 5 spoilers were even hinted out. There contains no speculation and (from what I know of season five) will most definitely be AU as of October 6.
Of Redemption and Inebriation
Date #1: Tequila
June 1, 2016
Felicity stood in front of the intercom in the workout area of the Bunker and blew out a breath, trying to gather her courage as well as her thoughts. Once she pressed that button she'd have to say something. Not something particularly exciting or intelligent. But something…and, sometimes, the first word was really, really hard.
Bouncing on her feet, Felicity shook out her hands and stretched her head from side to side. God, it was like she was preparing for a fight. What an odd metaphor considering her true goal here. But maybe there was a fight. It was just being fought entirely within herself.
There was a sheet spread out on the sparing mat, the take-out she had bought still in the bags in the corner. Felicity had considered lying it out all proper like, but that would look too much like she was planning a romantic picnic or, God forbid, a seduction.
Of course, that was kinda sorta exactly what she was doing…
Well, not really.
But, yes, really.
Ahh! Felicity was making her own head hurt.
There was schism inside her. Only it wasn't between light and dark…oh, maybe it was. It was between was anger and love. Fear and hope. Self-preservation and a promise of something more. Something better.
There was a war being waged inside Felicity. On one side, the part of her who was still hurt and…furious at Oliver for not telling her about William. For not telling her the very second he suspected he had a son.
That part felt that as a strong, independent woman she needed to stand her ground. That the only way she should even consider letting Oliver back into her life was if he fought for her. Won her back. Proved that he had changed. Maybe even groveled a little.
Then there was the part of her who…just…wanted Oliver back already. Who was so tired of being alone when the man she loved was right there. Being the man Felicity always knew he could be. Being strong and wonderful and good.
Felicity forced herself to hit the intercom button before she lost her nerve. Again.
"Oliver." It came out as a soft (pathetic) squeak. Felicity quickly cleared her throat, saying louder, "Oliver."
Almost immediately, he responded, "Felicity? What are you doing in the workout area?"
Felicity laughed. It was an odd, self-conscious sound and…what the hell? Ugh. "It's the only place that isn't covered in gazillions of pieces of shattered glass." Which was why she chose this area for their picnic, among other reasons. "And that includes our…the Loft."
"Oh." There was a pause, then a soft, "I'm sorry. Did you need help cleaning that up? I can come over…?"
There Oliver went, being all perfect again. Tying Felicity up in knots.
"No." Wait. What was she saying? Refusing his help was not going to get Felicity anywhere. Certainly not anywhere she wanted to go. "You know what? Yes, I would. That would be nice, actually." What was with the butterflies? This was Oliver for frak's sake. She rubbed her damp palms against her jeans. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"Sure."
"But, um, right now, I, well, got us some dinner and I thought, maybe, we could eat down here. Where there was no, you know, debris?"
There was only the slightest beat of silence on the other end which, apparently, Felicity couldn't handle because she started babbling, again, "Don't worry it's take-out. My cooking plus kitchen covered in glass almost certainly deadly and given that we just survived a near-nuclear holocaust…"
And now she was back to doing that thing. That awkward, embarrassing thing Felicity had always done. How long had it been since she had babbled uncontrollably like this with Oliver? Not long enough.
Felicity was nervous. Really, really nervous. And Oliver was going to know it. He knew her too well not to.
"I'll be right down." Oliver's voice sounded rough. Hesitant. But Felicity refused to analyze it any further than that.
Okay, then.
She turned and stared at their dinner, still stacked up neatly in the take-out bags. Maybe Felicity should stop standing there like a fool, wringing her hands together, and lay out the food. It was stupid to just wait, frozen.
But Angry!Felicity wouldn't let her move. She was still upset that Felicity was the one extending the olive branch to begin with.
"Shut up!" Felicity muttered to herself, knowing it was insane and not even caring. "You're the one who got us into this mess in the first place."
And it was. It was Felicity's own fault that it wasn't Oliver setting up any olive branch picnics. Her fault that he wouldn't even lay a hand on her shoulder in comfort as they tried to save the world. Because, though she tried to blame it on a depersonalized multiple personality, it was still Felicity who had cut off things with Oliver so efficiently, so completely. Who had crushed any hope he'd had left.
And now there was no chance that Angry!Felicity was going to get her little fantasy: Oliver wooing her, while she threw him crumbs and made him work for every bit of her attention.
Because there was no part of Felicity that didn't want Oliver back. Not anymore.
But Oliver held himself at a careful distance. Respectful. Kind. Seemingly grateful to have her back in his life in any capacity at all. Not making any move that could be interpreted as romantic in nature, be it touch or action or gesture. Felicity would almost worry that his feelings had changed. But it was there in his eyes. The love. The regret. The longing.
But Oliver wouldn't act. Because Felicity had told him not to. She had told him it was over. Forever. She had told him he was still that man on the island. Told him to take that damn ring and never give it back to her.
God, how Felicity regretted that night. She regretted every hurt, angry, confused word she had uttered. Because now Oliver was doing the right thing. Respecting her wishes.
And Felicity wanted to scream.
"What's this?" Oliver asked, strolling in, completely unaware of the battle for sanity being waged in Felicity's head. And why would he? He was just coming down to have dinner with an old friend. Like before. Like they had never been lovers at all.
Only before, Oliver would have touched her. Friendly, casual touches. He wouldn't have carefully chosen to sit where he couldn't accidentally touch her.
Rubbing his hands together, Oliver gracefully sat cross-legged on the mat. He was still in his dress pants and shirt, the sleeves rolled up, having just gotten back from a long day at City Hall. He looked delicious. But he always looked delicious. Which was just so unfair.
"I was in the mood for Mexican," Felicity told him, because she had to speak, right? Speaking was a thing? She mirrored his position, sitting across from him. And, unlike Oliver, close enough to accidentally touch. She was all about the accidental touches. "So…take-out."
Annnnnd that wasn't awkward. At all.
Oliver's eyes lit up, but, unfortunately, in a Yay!Food way not a Yay!Felicity way. She was an expert on both looks, so she was well-versed in the difference. "Sounds great." He grabbed for a bag. Clearly, he wasn't seeing this for what it was. Felicity knew she should have set out the food.
In actuality, Felicity had chosen Mexican because it went well with what was in the brown paper bag that she kept carefully concealed at her hip. The Jose Cuervo. It was the heart of her plan.
Oliver wasn't going to approach her until Felicity told him it was okay. And subtle wouldn't work. She had already tried subtle. She was going to have to spell it out for him. Damn it.
But her pride and… well, she just wasn't ready to flat out tell him she wanted to try again. It was quite the conundrum.
So…tequila. It wasn't the most mature solution. But it was a solution.
Felicity really hoped that the tequila would be what it took to grease the wheels, relax them both enough for…something…anything to happen. Some movement across the schism of nachos and burritos piled between them.
"So, how was City Hall today?" Felicity asked, because…oh, she didn't know why, but at least it got him talking.
Oliver immediately launched into a diatribe about budgets and safety concerns and rebuilding projects and…
He was such a good man. How could she have told him he wasn't? Oh Oliver made mistakes. Big mistakes. But…
Curtis had told Felicity that she had overreacted. And that night, the night after Cupid, that was more than an overreaction. That was a wounded animal lashing out, saying anything she had to to achieve the distance she had needed to survive. But, now, she really wished she had found another way.
Felicity was only half-listening to Oliver's plans to rebuild the city. But he looked really enthusiastic, so she painted an interested look on her face as she nibbled on her burrito.
Had the break up been an overreaction? Felicity really hadn't thought so. Had her mother taking her and leaving her father been an overreaction? She had no idea.
But Curtis had the healthiest relationship out of anyone she knew, so his advice had to count for something. And, while Felicity spoke like a relationship expert at times, she was anything but.
Maybe there had been a third option, something that wasn't breaking it off completely or forgiving Oliver outright. At the time, 'working it through' had felt too much like giving in, like excusing his behavior, but maybe it wasn't that black and white. The only thing that was clear was that Felicity had no idea how to function in a healthy relationship. And neither did Oliver.
Tequila probably wasn't the answer to that, but…maybe it could be a start?
What was Felicity thinking? Tequila and healthy didn't belong in the same sentence. But, then again, giving up was not an option either.
Felicity realized that Oliver was asking her a question. Maybe she wasn't half paying attention. Maybe she wasn't paying attention at all.
"Hmmm?" Felicity asked innocently, trying to sound as if she hadn't just drifted off into outer space.
"I said…" Oliver frowned, his eyes running over her. "Felicity, are you okay?"
Not really. "Mmhm."
Oliver took a breath and then made a very visible decision to let it go. His face relaxed, but that little crinkle remained between his eyes. "Did you get us some drinks or should I grab us some water from—?"
"Actually…"
This was it. Show time. Heaven help her. Felicity forced a smile and pulled the Jose Cuervo out of the bag.
"Tequila?" Oliver let out a bark of laughter, looking completely…shocked. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but…tequila?"
Felicity was really starting to wonder if this had been the best idea. "I figured after the week we had…" Oliver raised his eyebrows. He wasn't buying this. Couldn't he just work with her? Pretend that this wasn't completely out of the ordinary for them? "We haven't celebrated you becoming mayor." Maybe?
Oliver tilted his head and it was as adorable as it was unnerving. "Isn't that more of a champagne occasion?"
Like engagement parties? Uh…no.
"You win an election: Champagne. You get placed as interim Mayor after the world almost ends and most of your friends and family leave town," Felicity held up the bottle, "Tequila."
Oliver laughed and it wasn't even at her, so Felicity was finally able to relax. Maybe this was going to work after all.
"Good point," Oliver agreed. "Do you have…?"
"Lemons?" Felicity smiled and pulled out a zip-lock bag filled with sliced lemons. Oliver nodded his approval. "And salt?" Another zip-lock held a couple dozen take-out salt packets.
"Resourceful." Oliver was still chuckling, looking more calm than he had in a long time. He actually looked up for this. So…phew. First obstacle cleared.
"And…" Felicity reached into the bag and pulled out the last items, two shot glasses. She was rather proud of them, actually. Turning them outward, she clinked them together and grinned as Oliver let out a bark of a laugh. "So it turns out, Green Arrow action figures hard to find. Green Arrow shot glasses? Not so much. What does that say?"
Oliver grabbed the tequila bottle and twisted open the top. "That I'm the grown-up super hero."
Then he winked at her. For real. Winked. At her. And it had been so long since he done that…it felt like Felicity had already done a shot, or four, the way her whole body grew warm.
But Oliver hesitated before pouring. "You sure you want to do this? The last time we had tequila," his voice dropped an octave and Felicity had to suppress a shiver, "I had to carry you home."
That was the plan.
Felicity smiled. "That was a good night."
Oliver froze, he had been trying not to meet her eyes, but at those words they jerked to hers like a magnet…wow, that was over-dramatic.
"Yeah, it was," Oliver murmured softly.
But maybe it wasn't over-dramatic, because the look Oliver gave her…it had been forever since he had given her a look like that. Oh, he looked at Felicity with love all the time, but that was usually mixed with sadness and regret. This was heat and…
Felicity held the eye contact as long as she could, encouraging it. It was Oliver who finally looked away. Though, he did start pouring the shots so she counted it as a win or at least not a …lose.
She distributed the lemon and salt. Then, licking the back of her hand, Felicity sprinkled on a packet of salt, careful to look at him through her lashes as she did. Oliver had to clear his throat before doing the same. Not the lashes thing. Unfortunately. The salt and licking thing. But one step at a time.
Oliver held up his glass and Felicity pressed hers to his. "To…"
'Forgiveness' Felicity almost said, but that was admitting way too much and she hadn't even had a single shot yet. Confessions needed to wait until she could blame the tequila.
"Redemption," she said instead…except, crap, that wasn't right either.
Oliver's eyebrows shot up at her word choice. Of course, they did. The man wasn't stupid. "Redemption?"
What was she doing? How was a fancy word for earning forgiveness any less obvious? Felicity tried to cover it with a shrug. Then quickly tasted the salt and threw back her shot, hiding her expression behind a wedge of lemon. Oliver followed suit. So, either he bought it, or he was equally invested in hiding behind citrus fruit.
Once the fire of the tequila started to spread (And it wasn't long. Oliver was right in implying she was a light weight), Felicity was able to answer his half-asked question, saying, "It's just something I've been thinking about. Working with my dad. Cooper doing the right thing in the end. Maybe no one is beyond redemption."
Felicity held up her glass for him to pour again, trying for an innocent smile. But Oliver got a strange expression on his face and she could see his shoulders tense. His face fell and a haunted look settled in his eyes as his gaze fell from hers. It took her a full minute to figure out what she had said that would make him act so weird. When she did…
Well, wasn't that just great? How had Felicity gone from implying she wanted to forgive him to dredging up his bottomless guilt abyss?
"If you're even considering thinking Damian Darhk could have been redeemed you can stop right now. I don't even think he counted as human anymore."
Oliver huffed out a breath and his posture unwound somewhat. He gave her a small smile as he poured more light amber liquid into her shot glass. "I suppose not."
But, when Oliver licked his hand for the second time, it was clear that he was putting effort into trying not to be sexy. Damn him. What was the point of Jose Cuervo if one was going to be reserved? What kind of former frat boy was he?
"Hey." Felicity shifted so that their knees touched, the lemons and salt sitting between their crossed legs. Maybe she needed to be less subtle. "I wasn't talking about crazy megalomaniacs out to destroy the world. I was talking about people like…us."
Eyes jerked to hers. Eyes so intense she was sure they could see straight through her. Felicity actually caught a glimpse of Oliver's pulse jumping. Finally, he was getting it. Was it too much to ask that he get it without her having to say it?
Felicity lifted her hand and as deliberately sexy as she could manage, she licked the back. As far as she knew, she looked ridiculous. She wasn't a naturally sexy person. If it weren't for that first shot, she wasn't even sure she could keep this up, but Oliver's nostrils flared so she mustn't be doing too bad.
She raised her glass again. "So…to redemption?"
Oliver smiled, unreservedly this time. "To redemption."
The second shot hit her harder than the first and Felicity shuddered as it burned her throat and her eyes teared. Even with the lemon, it tasted terrible. What was it about tequila? Something about the ritual, the sensuality of it all, made her forget the taste and kept her coming back for more.
And then there was the warm haze that was now spreading throughout her body, filling her mind, calming her anxiety and her racing thoughts, leaving a soft buzz of pleasure in its wake. Yup, the (horrible) taste… totally worth it.
It was a very nice start. Felicity reached for the bottle again.
"Whoa there," Oliver cautioned, lifting the bottle out of reach, "unless you've become a drinker in the last two and a half months, maybe you should take a short break." Felicity frowned at him, starting to get irritated when… crap, he gave her the puppy-dog eyes. "At least, let me catch up," the manipulative bastard pleaded.
"Fine." Felicity knew it was a ploy to get her to slow down, but she wanted Oliver drunk as much as she wanted herself drunk and it would take him at least twice as much, so...
Oliver pushed a tray of Nachos Grande at her. "Eat."
Felicity bristled a little at the command, but the puppy-dog eyes were super powerful and Oliver wanting to take care of her was a step in the right direction, wasn't it?
She rolled her eyes, but she picked up a chip, her eyes following Oliver's movements carefully as he licked his hand…it wasn't super sexy yet, but he was no longer trying not to be sexy…so win. Also, the play of his muscles, the line of his throat as he threw back the shot and bit the lemon…mmm.
Felicity remembered what those lips tasted like. She even remembered how they tasted with tequila and lemon. The urge to test how accurate her memory was built as her muscles loosened and the liquor washed Angry!Felicity further and further into the background.
Much more important was the recollection that the last time they had done tequila shots they had been licking the salt if each other's bodies. How many shots would it take to get them back to that point?
Felicity grabbed the bottle again and Oliver's hand shot out to cover hers. It was the first time he had initiated a touch for non-lifesaving reasons since Cupid and it made her kind of melty inside.
"Just one more," Felicity murmured, wondering if her voice sounded as warm as it felt. "Then I'll take a break."
Oliver hesitated a moment, but he eventually gave her an indulgent smile and removed his hand, allowing Felicity to pour two more shots.
After her third, and Oliver's fourth, shots, Felicity was ready to climb on his lap and lick salt off his…everything. (She really was a lightweight).
Angry at him? Why on Earth would Felicity be angry at him? He was so pretty. And he took such good care of her. And his hands were so…
Not touching her. Blech. Oliver did not look ready for lap climbing. What was wrong with him? Come to think of it, that was as good a reason as any to be angry with him.
"Catch up," Felicity ordered, pushing the bottle toward Oliver and patting him on the leg. After that, the effort it took to remain sitting seemed like a total waste of energy so she flopped onto her back. This was a rather comfy mat, which was good because sometimes people fell on it and…stuff.
Oliver chuckled, because apparently she was amusing. Felicity couldn't remember if that was a good thing or not, but she really didn't want to remember anything, so she closed her eyes and enjoyed the not thinking. She heard the sound of more liquor being poured and she smiled.
Cracking her eyelids open, Felicity placed her bare feet in Oliver's lap and watched as he froze, then quickly threw back his drink with a gulp. His hands fell to her feet and, for a brief moment, it looked like he was going to rub them, give her a foot massage or something wonderful like he use to do…but his hands fell away and…
Goddamn it.
Felicity rolled onto her belly in frustration. She was absolutely terrible at seduction. It was official. She known that, of course. Hence the tequila.
But tequila was failing at its main objective. If it didn't shape up, tequila was fired.
Maybe this is what she got for counting on Jose over there to all the work. Felicity should have swallowed her pride and done the whole 'mature' conversation thing instead. Blah blah blah. That probably would have been the 'healthy' way to handle things.
But so many feelings. They just made everything so messy. And so much could go wrong…
Hey, look, the Salmon Ladder. Felicity loved the Salmon Ladder. Oliver never did the Salmon Ladder anymore. It was so sad. It was probably because Oliver had stopped trying to seduce her.
Stupid Angry!Felicity had ruined everything. Also, stupid Respectful!Oliver. Couldn't he have been a little more respectful when he found out about William and a little less respectful now. That was his problem, he always got things ass backwards.
Felicity placed her head on her fists and swung her legs back and forth, staring at the piece of apparatus that used to brighten up her Wednesdays. Such an odd thing. Such a work of art. She hummed to herself as she remembered the click-clank of the bars and the sweating and the muscles and…she sighed…it had been hypnotizing.
Maybe Felicity should ask Oliver to do it for her again. No, she would demand it, 'cause he still needed to make things up to her, goddamn it, and he should do whatever she wanted!
"Felicity?"
Oliver placed a hand on Felicity's calf and that was nice. He was such a nice man. He had such nice hands. Oooo oooo, she knew what she should do!
Felicity hopped to her feet. Okay, more like dragged herself to her feet and then stumbled a little bit. And, to be fair, that was only half the tequila's fault, 'cause she wasn't the most graceful person, which was so unfair because Oliver was soooo graceful. Maybe that was why he didn't want to seduce her anymore?
No. She was not going to think those thoughts. Oliver did want to seduce her. He just didn't think he was allowed. Probably because a few weeks ago, he totally was not allowed and he just didn't realize that things had changed. That was why Felicity was seducing him. Or tequila was seducing both of them. Right. Now, that they got that clear...
Walking straight (or as straight as she could manage) to the Salmon ladder, Felicity grabbed onto the bar. It was on the lowest rung, about up to her chin.
"Show me how to do this," Felicity asked and it was decisive and everything. She was pleased with the tone, not quite demanding, but certainly firmer than a request.
Also, the plan was starting to sound very good. A sound plan. Oliver would probably have to touch her and her shirt was flowy and might possibly come up—
"Felicity, I don't think that's a good idea."
Excuse her? Felicity turned and fixed Oliver with a glare that made him wince. Good. No arguing from the peanut gallery.
"Are you saying I can't do it?" she accused. "I'll have you know that Paul has been having me do Pilates." Felicity ducked under the bar and adjusted her grip, so she was facing Oliver with the bar between them. "I can totally do this."
There was no way Felicity could do this.
Not without Oliver's help. Which was completely the point, because he'd have to put his hands on her body and…and the Salmon Ladder was sexy, so Felicity would look sexy on it…right? Though, Oliver always took his shirt off. Maybe she should take her shirt off.
"Fel-ic-i-ty," Oliver said, doing that thing where he drew out the syllables. She usually liked it when he did that, but not with this particular tone. And he was getting up and he did not look drunk, damn him. "How about I show you when you haven't been drinking?"
Well, she wasn't going to want to when she was sober, so that was just dumb. Felicity gave Oliver a disgruntled look and pulled herself up onto the bar. She took gymnastics it the third grade and she hadn't even been terrible at it. Not like ballet. Or soccer. Well, there was that one time she fell off the balance beam…
Oliver kind of lunged toward her as soon as her feet left the ground. "Swe—Felicity!"
Felicity grinned triumphantly, both because she managed to lift herself onto the bar, her arms straight and everything, and because Oliver almost called her sweetheart, which he only ever did when they were alone and it their most intimate moments. Definitely a win.
Though, she forgot to take her shirt off. Frak.
Oliver stopped a few feet in front of her, his hands up, looking concerned…or maybe 'freaked out' would be a better phrase…and unsure what to do next. "O…K… That's very good. Excellent. Really. Felicity, can you come down now? Please?"
Felicity did not like his tone. It was rather condescending. "I took gymnastics in the third grade," she announced petulantly.
"Yeah, your mom said…didn't you fall off the balance beam—"
And before Oliver could say one word against it, Felicity threw herself over the bar just like her nasty old Russian coach taught her to do. Huh, maybe that's why she didn't like Russia...
"Felicity!" Oliver yelped.
She spun over the bar and her landing was…well, she didn't hit anything. Much.
"Felicity." Oliver grabbed her arms, lifting her to her feet, steadying her. "You alright?"
"Whoa." The world was kinda starting to spin.
"Do you need to throw up?" Oliver asked. And though his voice was kind, that was so not sexy.
Did she look like she needed to vomit? Talk about unattractive. So, that plan was a bust.
"No, I'm fine. Spinny, but fine."
Oliver put his arm around her shoulders and Felicity leaned her head against his chest. Okay, maybe there was something salvageable here after all.
"Let's just get you away from the weights and the swords," Oliver said, oh so sweetly. Felicity liked his tone much better now. "No, swords okay?"
"Mmmm."
Actually, Felicity was pretty happy right where she was. She leaned her face against Oliver's bicep and when he didn't pull away, she turned toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. Mission accomplished. Yay, tequila!
"Felicity…? What are you doing?"
Okay, so maybe congratulations were a bit hasty.
Oliver was frowning down at her. Why, of why, was he frowning. But…tequila. Crap, she must have moved too fast. He wasn't drunk enough. Damn his excellent metabolism and his huge, muscly body.
Also, Felicity was not going to answer that question. Nope. Nada. No way. That was the point of the tequila, that she didn't have to answer those sort of questions.
Where was that bottle anyway?
"You need another drink," Felicity announced, scowling. She tried to pull out of Oliver's arms but the spinny thing wasn't gone so she had to hold onto his forearm because falling would be bad. "It is so unfair that you're completely sober and I'm like this after only 3 shots."
"Oh, I'm not completely sober," Oliver chuckled, so apparently she had said that aloud. Wonderful. Maybe tequila and gymnastics were not the best combination after all. "Felicity, please, tell me what's going on."
Not gonna happen. He had already gotten too much from her as it was. Too much information. Too much of her tattered pride. Felicity yanked herself away from him and Oliver didn't stop her. Which was the problem.
"What's going on is that you need another drink. Actually, you know what, we both need another drink." Yup, good plan. More tequila would fix everything. Ah there it was!
"I don't think that's what you need at all."
Felicity ignored him and, somehow, managed to balance two shot glasses, two lemon wedges, and salt in her left hand as she poured. Sure, the lemons got a little tequila-y and the salt a little soggy, but she managed to stand up without (too much) spillage.
"Yup, that's what we need," Felicity repeated as she regained her footing. At least, she thought she repeated herself. She couldn't remember if she said that already or not. It was really hard to figure out which things were said out loud and which weren't.
Oliver caught her elbow and forced her to look at him. It was unfair that even his frowny face was so damn pretty. "Felicity, why are you trying to get me drunk?"
She ripped the salt packet open with her teeth and handed it to him. "Here, hold this."
He took it, even as he protested, "I think you've had enough." Oliver did sound rather meek, though. When he sounded like that Felicity usually got what she wanted. So that, at least, was good.
Felicity licked her wrist and held it up. "Pour."
"Do you really need more?" Oliver was actually whining now, but he did as he was told. Guess he knew what was good for him.
"Yup." Felicity held her salted wrist up to Oliver's mouth, because, really, he needed it so much more than she did. "Lick," she commanded.
Their eyes locked and held…wow, courage much. She couldn't believe she was doing this. Oliver's eyes filled with heat and his breathing quickened. He wanted to. Felicity could tell he wanted to. The tequila wasn't masking that. But…
He didn't, wouldn't do it. Bastard.
In that moment, Felicity almost wished she had chosen to do this little experiment in a public bar. She had the strong urge to find another man to lick her wrist. See if Oliver liked that.
"Fine," Felicity snapped and licked the salt herself, throwing back a shot before Oliver could stop her.
Once the lemon was in her mouth, Felicity might have questioned the intelligence of her little display. Her whole body was warm and her brain was swirly-whirly. Passing out was not part of the plan. A lot had spilled, though, so maybe she would be okay. Really, it was more the gymnastics fault than the tequila.
Felicity held up the second, still full(ish) glass almost defiantly. If Oliver called her bluff and she drank, she'd probably pass out and her humiliation would end anyway. "If you don't want it, I'll—"
With a low growl, Oliver grabbed the glass and threw back the tequila, skipping the salt completely, which…yuck. "Happy?"
No. No, not really. Felicity shoved the lemon into Oliver's mouth and turned away, but her dramatic flounce didn't go so well and she sank to her knees so she wouldn't tumble the floor.
"Felicity," Oliver pleaded, far less growly now, "talk to me."
"Don wanna." Since when did tequila turn her into a child? It was all Oliver's fault. It had to be. Maybe if she laid down?
Oliver let out a moan, as if he were in pain, and scrubbed his face. "I'm trying really hard not to mess up here, Felicity. You need to tell me what to do, because it feels like everything I'm doing is wrong and I'm trying. You only just started to talk to me again and I…"
Great, this was not at all how Felicity had wanted this night to go. Now, Oliver was upset and she was upset. And they were both frustrated. So she heaved a sigh and went with her gut, because her brain was soggy and unreliable.
Felicity held out her hand to Oliver. "Come `mere."
Kneeling next to her, Oliver took Felicity's hand and she took comfort in the fact that he didn't hesitate. "I'm getting some serious mixed signals here, Felicity."
She let out a small bark of self-deprecating laughter and turned her head toward him, which only made the world spin a tiny bit. "Are they mixed? Are they?"
Oliver cracked a tiny half smile. He did that lip licking thing he did and Felicity's eyes became glued to the movement of his tongue as he said, "Okay, I'm getting signals that are in direct opposition to everything you told me when you gave me back the ring the second time. And I don't want a little tequila to mess up—"
"Ugh!" Felicity threw her arm over her face. "That night. Can we just forget that night ever happened?" she blurted out. It seemed the last of her faulty filter had been washed away with that forth shot.
And the silence that followed…not a hopeful response. When Felicity dared to peek at Oliver, he was sprawled out next to her, leaning up on his elbow and staring down at her like he was afraid to breathe.
"Forget it?" Oliver croaked.
"Yes! Oh, please, yes," Felicity burst out. And a distant part of her remembered that she hadn't wanted to say any of this. Not tonight. But that part no longer had any control of her voice. "I wish I could just erase that day. It hurt so much and the things I said…and I think I wanted to hurt you, because I was so hurt and I didn't mean most of it, well, I meant it at the time, but most of it was really stupid and untrue and I wish I had never said the majority of it…"
What was wrong with her? Had liquor always given her verbally diarrhea? And if it did, why didn't she remember that before she came up with this stupid plan? "And now I've gone and said all this stuff," Felicity moaned. "I really didn't want to talk about any of this tonight. I wanted to drink and relax and flirt and pretend none of that happened, so we could…"
Oh crap, that was even worse. Felicity bit her lip to keep any more stupid words from tumbling out.
"Alright."
Felicity's eyes jerked to Oliver's face at the whispered word. "Alright?"
A slow smile spread across Oliver's face. "Felicity, on my top ten nights I wish never happened, that night is much higher than it should be. So I'm all for pretending it didn't happen."
"Oh good…" So maybe the verbal diarrhea wasn't sooo terrible, if Oliver… "Hey, where are you going?" Felicity pushed herself up to a half-sitting position as Oliver just up and disappeared.
Felicity was still trying to figure out what the hell happened when Oliver showed up again holding a water bottle. "You need this."
Sighing, Felicity dutifully took the bottle as Oliver settled back next to her, too grateful he was back too protest. "You know this is half our problem," she announced as she drank, hoping it would help…something.
"Dehydration?" Oliver asked indulgently, lying back down next to her. It might be the tequila, but he seemed lighter, somehow.
"No." Felicity rolled her eyes, he could be such a dumbass. "You being so damn perfect all the time."
Oliver laid his head on his hand and gazed down at her with a smile. Finally, they were getting somewhere. "I'm not sure I understand how that is a problem, so I'm going to focus on you thinking I'm prefect," he teased.
Felicity smacked him for that, because there was no other appropriate response.
Oliver gave her his obligatory, "Ow."
But…was he flirting? It looked like flirting. It sounded like flirting. But, maybe, that was the Jose Cuervo. And it was okay if Oliver was flirting because of the tequila, but not if Felicity only thought he was flirting because of tequila.
"It is a problem, you big idiot. You with all your water getting, dinner making, perfect boyfriending. It's a problem," Felicity insisted, not fully understanding why this was so hard for him to understand. "We were the perfect couple and we had the perfect life." And, oh, how she missed it.
"I still don't understand," Oliver murmured, quiet and patient. Perfectly so.
"Because it's not real life. It's not sustainable."
Oliver's smile faltered and he reached over to touch her…then stopped himself.
Ugh. "Stop that!" Felicity snapped.
"Stop what?" Oliver froze, his free hand up in a sign of surrender, his eyes wide.
"The no touching thing! It's annoying. I hate it." Okay, Felicity had to remember: Four shots of tequila equaled zero filter. "You haven't initiated a touch since that night. Not even platonically. Before we were together, you used to—"
"Felicity," Oliver sighed, "touching you isn't platonic. Not anymore. Maybe not ever. And I can't pretend."
"Then don't pretend," Felicity almost yelled, liquid courage meeting frustration and shoving the words out. "Just, please, touch me." Ahhh, that might have come out more suggestive than she had intended.
But, luckily, Oliver didn't seem to think so. When he murmured, "Felicity," it was like a prayer. His hand fluttered before it gently brushed her hair out of her face, his finger tracing the line of her cheek before it moved to grab her hand. And the way he held it…it was two steps beyond gentle and it was wonderful. "This alright?"
"Yeah." Felicity squeezed his hand back.
"So…" Oliver licked his lips. "We were too perfect, huh?"
"Yeah…" Maybe they should just lay here holding hands all night. This was good. Felicity could be content with this. Actually, she'd love some kissing. But if she started talking again who knew what would come out. "Though, you know….my brain's a little fuzzy."
Oliver's small smile warmed her bones and Felicity wanted to climb inside and stay forever. "Too much tequila."
"Or not enough. You want more…?" Felicity suggested, but not for her. She had had enough. But for Oliver. Maybe another shot and then kissing…
But Oliver shook his head, unfortunately, staying focused. "I want to know how being perfect ruined everything. And don't tell me that was tequila induced nonsense. Drunk Felicity is still smarter than everyone else in the room."
"It's depends who's in the room. What if—"
"Fe-lic-i-ty. Please."
"Fine," Felicity folded like a deck of cards. Damn irresistible man. "Right. I dunno. I guess I just meant…" What had she meant? Now was not a good time for deep thoughts. Oh, yeah, now she remembered. "You know how neither of us have any idea how a successful relationship works?"
"Well, I didn't…don't…"
There he went, taking the blame. "Oliver, my longest boyfriend before you just almost blew up the world."
That made Oliver crack a smile. "There's that."
"And my parents…did I tell you that my father didn't leave us? That my mother took me and left him?"
"No!" Oliver pushed himself up. "Oh my God, are you okay?"
Felicity waved it off with a flick of her wrist. "It's fine." But…wait. Maybe that was her point. "You know what. Actually, I'm not fine. I don't know what I am, but I'm not fine."
Oliver nodded and brought Felicity's hand to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes. Yes, I do," Felicity said firmly. Because she'd actually given quite a lot of thought to how they might rebuild their relationship properly. Considered every way he'd floundered. Every way she'd slipped up. And her brain may be full of warm cotton, but she was pretty sure this was a step in the right direction. "But not now. I had a point. What was my point?" She was pretty sure she was on a roll here. "Oh right…neither of us had any relationship role models."
"True enough." Oliver played with her fingers and relaxed back down on his side, smiling indulgently.
"So, it was like we tried to be this perfect TV ideal of what a couple should be," Felicity explained, very intelligently she believed, all things considered.
"Felicity, you know I don't watch TV."
"Oliver," Felicity mimicked his tone, slightly annoyed that he was arguing with her perfectly brilliant analysis. "Just because you were marooned on an island for five years doesn't mean that you are immune to the cultural ideal."
"Those are some pretty big words for a drunk girl."
"Hey." Was Oliver making fun of her? He may be getting too relaxed.
"Are you claiming that I took my cue from Leave It to Beaver?" Oliver laughed.
"No." That was just stupid. "They were chauvinistic assholes. You were perfect." Duh. Felicity sighed, remembering it all. "The cooking. And the cleaning. And the supporting anything I said or did—"
"I wasn't pretending, Felicity," Oliver said quietly, the teasing note now gone from his voice.
"I know that. I know." Why wasn't Oliver understanding? God, was she even making sense? "But…maybe you were trying too hard? Because…there was also the never arguing…I mean, I argued, but you almost never did. You just stood by and took it, even when I was being a total bitch. Never calling me out when I—"
"I'm sorry. I..." Oliver started to pull away. He looked stricken. Oh God, no, that's not what Felicity meant. Having this conversation drunk was a terrible Idea.
Felicity tightened her hold on his hand, putting her other one over top of it for good measure. "No, I loved it! I did, it's just that…Oliver, I think…I think William wasn't the first lie either of us told."
And…that just made it worse. Because Oliver looked like Felicity had just punched him. "I never—"
"You did." Is that what she meant to say? It was, but it was coming out all wrong. "When you let me insult your intelligence anytime I was in a bad mood. When you said it was okay that I yelled at you for unfair stuff like texting my mom and—"
Oliver tried to pull away again, but Felicity just rolled closer. Now that she started this mess, he had to hear her out. He just had to.
"And I lied too," Felicity pleaded, "when…not just when I pretended not to be bored in Ivy Town, though that was the start. It kept going. We just kept pretending to be okay, to be perfect. Because we thought we had to be, or because we thought that was what the other person wanted or needed or…I don't know."
"Felicity, I never lied about how I felt about you," Oliver hissed passionately, his eyes, so close to hers, becoming watery.
And Felicity nodded in vigorous agreement, thankfully the world had stilled enough for her to be able to do so. "And I never lied about how I felt about you. But I lied about being okay. About being strong. I wasn't okay. I think I was even lying to myself, because I wasn't okay. Not when I was shot, not when you weren't there after surgery, not when I was stuck in that damn chair, not when my father betrayed me…I wasn't okay."
"Shhh shh," Oliver hushed, his whole demeanor changing the longer she rambled on, shifting closer, wiping tears from her face.
Felicity hadn't even realized that she had started crying. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she babbled. Because, God, this was why she hadn't wanted to start talking. She was losing it.
"You don't have to be sorry," Oliver assured. "You don't have to be okay. You never did."
"And you didn't…don't have to be perfect. You don't have to walk on egg-shells around me, always afraid I'm going to leave—"
"But you did leave," Oliver whispered.
And Felicity sobbed. Because she had and…God… "I did and I don't even know anymore…but I know that it wasn't just about your lie…though it was a dozy…it was about the fact that with everything that happened I hadn't cried…really, fully cried until Laurel died. And that you never let yourself be angry with me even when I deserved it."
"You never deserve it," Oliver insisted.
"I do. You know I do." He had to, because if Oliver kept her on a pedestal this wasn't going to work.
But then Oliver conceded, "Okay, maybe, sometimes," and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oliver, you see we built this house of cards. And it was beautiful and it was intricate and lovingly constructed and…you, Oliver…my perfect Oliver…you were my base, my foundation, all my supposed strength was built on top of that. So when I left, it was because…that lie, it was like pulling a card out from the very bottom. I just crumbled."
"Oh honey, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."
There were tears in Oliver's eyes now and they tumbled over. It was Felicity's turn to wipe his cheeks clean.
Her instinct was to say it was alright, but…she knew Oliver needed apologize. He needed to say it and she needed to hear it. Felicity just hoped he understood that she was also acknowledging that it wasn't all on him. It took two people for a relationship to fall apart. And it would take two if they wanted to put it back together.
Finally, once both their tears had slowed, Felicity whispered, "Wow, for someone who didn't want to talk about it, those were a lot of words." She still wasn't sure if she was thankful they had escaped or if she regretted them.
But Oliver whispered back, "I'm glad," and she leaned toward thankful.
"Can I blame it on the tequila?" Because now that Felicity was thinking about it, even if it was a good thing, it was also rather embarrassing. She wasn't even sure most of what she'd said made sense. Actually, she was pretty certain it hadn't.
Oliver blew out a breath. "That depends. If it's the tequila, does that mean you didn't mean it?"
"Oh, I meant it. The parts that were coherent anyway." Not that Felicity knew which parts those were. But it was heartfelt, every ridiculous word. "Though, truth serum was not what I had in mind when I bought the Jose Cuervo."
All the pain had slowly melted off of Oliver's face. Which, by the way, had gotten rather close to hers over the course of Felicity's drunken confessions. Finally, a teasing smile spread across his lips. "What did you have in mind?"
Felicity scrunched up her face, confessing in a small voice, "Seduction?"
Oliver laughed out loud. Then, just as suddenly, froze, seeming to realize it wasn't entirely a joke and asked, "Wait. Seriously?"
Felicity pierced her lips and held up her thumb and forefinger to mime… just a little bit. All amusement left Oliver's face, replaced by—
His lips were on hers.
Felicity whimpered, her hands flying to the sides of his face, holding Oliver there in case he changed his mind. Oh God. She had been so so worried that this would never happen again. And his lips were as perfect as she remembered, a perfect that she would never complain about, and he was kissing her reverently, gently, his lips just barely moving over hers and—
Oliver pulled back. "Is this okay?" he panted, looking a little…terrified of her answer.
Felicity nodded vigorously. "Yes. Yes."
She just barely caught a glimpse of his grin as Oliver fell back into her, more confident this time, moving rapidly past a reunion kiss…a reverent, oh-wow-this-is-actually-happening-thank-the-lord, savoring kiss… into a familiar slide and brush, a well-rehearsed dance. It became a homecoming.
It was enough to bring tears to Felicity's eyes. She had almost thrown this all away. How could she have been so careless with something this…this.
When Oliver tilted his head, Felicity knew exactly how to angle her head so that they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. His lips didn't have to pry hers open. They moved in sync.
Even with the alcohol, they were perfectly coordinated. Maybe because of the alcohol. Because Felicity's mind was blessedly empty. Empty of anything but Oliver and the warm hum of this beautiful pleasure, of their connection, of the taste of his tongue against hers.
Felicity could never give this up. She was an idiot to think she could. This was forever.
When Oliver pulled back it was with one last small kiss, then he rubbed his nose against hers in a gesture so familiar it made Felicity's heart ache. He rested his forehead against hers and licked his lips. Like he was savoring her taste.
"So," Oliver murmured, "I was thinking…if you're up for it, I'd like to try rebuilding. Only, maybe," he licked his lips again, nervously this time, "with bricks and mortar instead of cards."
Felicity smiled, taking a moment to just breath it all in. It was going to all be all right. For the first time in months, maybe more, she actually thought her life…could be right again.
"You know bricks are heavy?"
"I've got a strong back," Oliver whispered, his voice thick.
That he had. "And mortar is messy."
Oliver's breath hissed. "You up for it?"
Was she ever. Felicity smiled up at him. "What's a little mud?"
Oliver's lips crashing back onto hers must have meant he approved of her response and Felicity hummed with a contentment that she'd forgotten existed. But when she tried to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, he pulled back.
"You know," Oliver whispered against her lips, his breath short, "if we're going to take it slow and build a good foundation, that means we actually have to…go slow."
It took Felicity a minute to catch Oliver's meaning and when she did she groaned. And, maybe, pouted. "So…no seduction?"
Oliver smiled and, oh boy, dimples how she'd missed thee. Felicity hadn't even realized how much. "I may not be a relationship expert," he told her, "but I'm pretty sure that's not first date etiquette. I've messed it up often enough to know."
Felicity hummed, stretching her arms and wrapping them around Oliver's shoulders, considering. "Is that what this is? A fist date?"
"Romantic picnic. Good conversation. Great kisses. A little too much booze. Best first date I've ever had." And Oliver really looked like he meant it.
Giggling in a way she only ever did when she had a little too much booze, Felicity agreed, "Well, it's certainly better than our last first date."
"Shh, you'll jinx it." But instead of putting a finger to her lips, Oliver stopped her words with his lips. And this kiss may have lasted a little bit longer, started to get a little bit out of hand, and when it broke off, it was only so they could breathe.
"You sure no seduction?" Felicity panted.
"Not tonight. No."
Though, Oliver looked as happy about it as she was. His pupils were blown and he was rock hard against her thigh. Felicity was pretty sure she could convince him. Maybe. He had a will of steal when he thought something was important. And this was important. The most important.
"Fine," Felicity conceded. "But date three. That's the rule. Date three is the sex date."
Oliver laughed and kissed her nose. "As long as there is a date three, I'm happy." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "And a two and a four." Another kiss. "And a twenty-five..."
There would be a date 3,025 if Felicity had her way. "You're already planning something over the top aren't you?"
Oliver's eyes lit up. "It can't be too over the top, since in the spirit of making this work in 'real life,' it's going to have to be in imperfect, disaster ridden Star City. No running off to Bali."
"But... Bali," Felicity sighed, pouting again, only half kidding. She hadn't realized Bali was on the table. "I love Bali."
"I love you." And all teasing was gone from Oliver's voice.
Felicity's smile faltered. Emotion threatened to overtake her. "I don't know if 'I love you's are first date protocol," she whispered.
"Probably not," Oliver agreed, though, he certainly didn't sound happy about it. "So what number date is 'I love you's?"
Felicity shrugged. She wasn't sure why she was setting this rule. It was probably silly, given they were both so obviously in love, but…wasn't this all about doing things in the right order this time. They'd done things all over the place before and look how that had turned out.
"Fifteen, maybe?" Felicity suggested, throwing out a number almost randomly.
Oliver swallowed, asking in a hoarse voice, "Are promising me fifteen dates?"
Felicity thought, maybe, she should say 'we'll see how it goes.' But a bigger part of her knew that the only way this was going to work was if they had a whole new level of honesty, right from the beginning. And from here on out, she wasn't going to be able to rely on tequila.
Nodding, Felicity answered, "It's an open ended contract, with the option to re-up at any—"
Oliver's lips slanted over hers.
They were both breathless and panting when he gasped, "Maybe we should stop."
"Uh uh," Felicity protested, her head rocking back and forth, swimming from a whole lot more than alcohol. "Kisses are totally fist date protocol. And I've been told that long make out sessions are a great foundation for long standing re—"
Apparently, Oliver didn't need any further persuasion.
So, maybe, the tequila didn't work out exactly as planned. And, maybe, Jose Cuervo did taste a little bit like ass. But as far as Felicity was concerned, from that day forward, it was always going to be her favorite.
Tequila was pretty much my drink of choice in college (500 years ago), not because I liked the taste, but… I have no idea…I think I thought it was romantic or something. I always enjoyed the ritual and this was how we drank it. With lemon. I'm sure many of you have your own way and feel free to share, but this is how we did it. Though, we also did tequila in lime or strawberry jello shots in med school and that was pretty yummy.
I'm not an alcoholic. I promise.
I have four more dates for this series. It is complete. The next one is "Date 3: Scotch, Neat" and it will be posted tomorrow.
Thanks for reading!
Emmy