A/N: Fluff everywhere! I have it in my head that Starling City is the comic equivalent of Seattle for some reason (at least on the show) so that's basically where they begin their road trip. Thanks for reading! :D
The blurry glow of sunlight burns the edges of her curtains as Felicity opens her eyes. It takes a few minutes for her brain to really focus, mind still thick with the lingering haze of sleep, and it's only the warmth and weight behind her that draws everything back in a panicky rush that has her body tensing slightly.
They're alive. They saved the city. Oliver came home. To her.
Feeling her muscles relax with a whistle-y exhale of relief, Felicity rolls over and can't help the fluttery surge of affection at the sight of Oliver beside her, sleeping on his stomach, both arms curled underneath his pillow. She releases a silent laugh into her hand at the way his cheek is squished on one side, like he's in the deepest weightiest of sleeps, and she doesn't think she's ever seen him so child-like or at peace.
She knows he's not free from his burdens yet—doubts he ever will be if she's really honest—but the smooth slope of his brow is an absolute gift right now.
She almost doesn't want to wake him when he's like this but she's wanted to wake up beside him for so long. They never had the chance in Nanda Parbat — but then they never had the chance for a lot of things. She wants to rectify all of that.
Starting now.
"Oliver," she sing-songs, tiptoeing her fingertips down the side of his cheek and smoothing her thumb across his lower lip, lingering there for a second.
Oliver makes a grumbly noise of acknowledgement—more like a grunt than anything resembling words—and Felicity grins, tapping him on the nose, wriggly with joy that she can do that now.
"Oliver," she tries again, louder this time, pressing her face right up close to his before she remembers things like morning breath and slides back a couple of inches. "You're supposed to be taking me far away today."
"I will," he murmurs, his voice all sleep-rough and scratchy, eyes still closed. "Anywhere you want."
"Anywhere I want? Oh, the power! The possibilities!"
Oliver releases this breathy half—chuckle and starts to roll onto his side, rubbing his eye with the heel of one hand, his gaze pretty intense once he's focused on her properly.
"Hey," he says around a smile and really, two smiles in twenty-four hours is just ridiculous. She can't handle it. It's too much.
"Morning," she beams back, stroking the cut of his bicep because she can't stop touching him and she doesn't have to now.
Oh boy, he's really in for it.
"Is it still morning?" Oliver asks, the words garbled through a yawn. "I feel like I slept through to the afternoon."
"It's only ten, I think," Felicity guesses, squinting hard at the clock on her bookcase but it's all pretty blurry so she gives up. "That's probably like sleeping in for you."
"It is. I don't sleep much."
"Color me shocked, Oliver. I did not know that."
He laughs again, tugging Felicity closer, smoothing his palm down the curve of her side as she gets comfortable and locks their legs together like her favorite kind of puzzle, and apparently morning breath is not really one of his concerns.
"Hi," he says again, chin brushing the top of her head while he speaks.
"You already said that," she mumbles into his chest where she's tucked close, all warm and snuggly with his arm wrapped around her and the heat of his skin against her face.
"I feel like I owe you every hello we've missed recently."
"Oliver," she breathes, throat tight, and the sting of emotion is not something she expected today.
"I thought about you every day, Felicity," he continues, totally unaware of how overwhelming his words can be sometimes.
Damn him.
"Not just when I was in Nanda Parbat but before that," he adds. "All the time."
Felicity nuzzles closer. "Me too. I tried not to but you know..."
Oliver brushes his thumb across her hairline and mouths a couple of kisses there, inhaling against her skin for a moment, and it's almost like he's talking to himself when he exhales, "I'm sorry I wasted so much time."
"It's okay. We're here now. As long as—" She pulls back to look him in the eye, feels a bit silly for asking, given everything that's happened but... "Are you ready to do this—us?"
"I've never been more ready for anything," he says, so sincere and heartfelt that her tummy loops and flutters again, the warmth of his words blushing her cheeks.
"It's not going to be easy though," she admits.
"Anything's easier than how we've been living. I don't want that anymore."
"That's true," she agrees. "But I'll be around you all the time. You won't be able to get rid of me."
He hums, "Sounds nice," and it really does with the dreamy way he draws it out, like he's picturing it and likes what he sees. "We're around each other most of the time anyway."
"Also true. But—"
"Felicity," he starts, waiting for her to look him in the eye again. "Are you trying to give me a way out? Because I don't want it."
"No, no way out. Just...making sure you know what to expect. I'm talking unattractive bed hair and stealing the blankets in bed and being grumpy and gross once a month—"
"Unlikely."
"Not to mention all the times we're probably going to argue. Only this time it won't be about you deciding to work with Malcolm Merlyn." She has to mentally tell herself to count to five against the anger she feels for that man but fails in keeping the bitter edge out of her voice when she adds, "Don't think I've forgotten about that."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Oliver says, seriously.
"It'll be over the little things," she continues on a happier note because the less they talk about Malcolm, the better. "Like, if you drink milk out of the carton or use a glass. Whether or not you leave the toilet seat up. I'm pretty interested in your damp towel policy actually."
"My damp towel policy?"
"Yeah. You know, whether you leave your towel on the floor after a shower like some kind of savage or if you hang it up to dry."
"I...guess it depends if I'm in a hurry or not?" he says haltingly, sounding so bemused it's almost endearing.
"Me too!" Felicity says, and she's really missed feeling like this, letting the joy of things seep into her words. "Actually, I'm pretty sure my towel from last night's shower is still on the bathroom floor. I had no energy to pick it up."
"So lazy," Oliver murmurs against her mouth and it's impossible not to lose themselves in a long slow kiss until Felicity remembers her train of thought and—
"Lazy? Excuse me, Mr. Queen, but I've been doing two jobs ever since I met you, even more so this last year. Sometimes I'm so tired I fall asleep eating cereal. Cereal, Oliver. I once woke up on the couch covered in milk and Lucky Charms."
"You eat Lucky Charms?"
"Sometimes," she smiles, bashful suddenly at the weight of his breath against her cheek and the thought of him finally knowing everything about her, every random meaningless detail that she knows he'll file away and never forget.
It's a little scary but exhilarating, all at once.
She ducks her chin and buries her face into his chest again, follows the edge of the sheet covering him with her fingertips and taps out a senseless pattern. Ones and zeros, spirals and stars. "I like lining up all the marshmallows on the edge of my bowl and eating them last. Always have."
Oliver catches at her fingers, runs his thumb across the shiny apple red of her nails in a way that seems absentminded.
"Thea and I were never allowed that kind of stuff for breakfast," he says, and he's tracing the lines of her palm now, measuring the length of her fingers.
"That doesn't surprise me," Felicity says, and it's so easy to picture it — the Queen family at the dining table in the old Queen mansion, plates loaded with fancy rich people breakfast foods like eggs benedict and smoked salmon.
At least, Felicity assumes that's what rich people eat for breakfast. She really doesn't know.
It's not Pop Tarts, that's for sure.
"You've been missing out though," she continues, trying not to snort-laugh at the image of Moira Queen eating a strawberry Pop Tart with a knife and fork. "They're magically delicious!"
Oliver huffs a breathy soundless laugh. "Do you have any? We could eat breakfast in—" He tails off when he notices the smile she's trying so hard to hide. "What's funny?"
"Nothing, just. I can't believe you're in my bed and we're talking about cereal of all things. This is not exactly what I expected for our first morning together. It's not what I expected at all actually. I guess I'm a bit turned around."
"I understand. This is beyond anything I ever expected."
"What did you expect? You know, aside from being dead which is yet another thing we need to talk about at some point." She screws up her face slightly and mutters, "The list is getting long."
"I don't know. Whenever I thought about us, I never let myself get far enough to fill in the details. We were always just together and happy and that was enough."
"Well then. I guess we better start filling in all those little details as soon as possible."
Felicity stretches up to brush the tip of her nose against his and Oliver frames her face in both hands to stop her moving away so he can do it again and again until she laughs at the sensation.
"How about I make us some coffee?" he suggests, stringing his words with chaste little kisses against her mouth, nose, the rose of her cheek. "That's a start, right?"
"Mmm. Coffee first is always a good plan. Go with that thought always. Oh, and I was thinking we should have breakfast with Thea before we leave, if you wanted to. I think she needs some big brother time."
"This is why I love you," he says, eyes soft and adoring, and Felicity bites her lower lip against the giddiness she feels hearing those words now because he's not leaving this time and relief doesn't even begin to cover it.
"So you'll call her?"
Oliver reaches for his phone on her bedside table and makes a show of scrolling for Thea's name in his contacts, showing the screen with a grin before he presses dial.
The coffee has just finished brewing by the time Oliver joins Felicity in the kitchen after his phone call, sliding up behind her while she smiles down at the two cups sitting side by side on the counter.
She feels the heat of his skin first, followed by the press of his mouth across the slope of her shoulder, just barely-there kisses and brushes of his lips that make her shiver. His hands are heavy against her hips and then he slides them up and around to bring her in for a big squishy hug.
"I thought I said I would make the coffee," he says, enfolding her tighter as she palms at his forearms crossed underneath her bust.
"I know, but I decided to break tradition. You should cherish it because it probably won't happen again."
"Hmm." He nuzzles the hair away from her neck and kisses the spot below her ear, makes a throaty hum when she arches into his smile. "So morning coffee is going to be my job?"
Felicity turns to face him, locking her arms around his neck. "I think that would be for the best. You're a morning person and I'm not. Makes sense you'd get the coffee. Serving it in bed is optional. I'll leave that up to you."
His smile lights up everything. "We're compromising already."
"Seems like it," she grins back just as brightly and ugh, they're pretty disgusting right now, like all kinds of mushy.
She's glad John's not around to roll his eyes.
"And what about breakfast?" Oliver asks. "Is that my job too?"
"Mmmhmm. I don't cook. Actually, I can't cook. Have I told you that before? I doubt it because when would we ever discuss cooking? I mean, I can bake but that's less cooking and more like science, I guess? Anyway, the point is breakfast should probably be your thing. And the less you think of it as a job, the better it will be."
"And why's that?"
"The moment you start thinking of something as a job, it sort of takes the fun out of it."
"And I'm gonna be having fun cooking your meals for you?"
"Well," she drawls, fingers skating over his scalp and down to lightly scratch at the skin behind his ear in a way she's recently discovered he likes very much. "I can think of fun things we can do that's sort of in the vicinity of cooking. Like, cooking adjacent."
"I'm listening," he says, a whispery growl against her mouth, hands clutching the base of her spine.
"Oh, you want the list now? Okay." She clucks her tongue while she thinks. "Hmm. Well, maybe things like not wearing clothes under aprons and finding out if kitchen counters are the right height for sex and there's also the chance for a whole Nine Half Weeks reenactment we could do involving food, although not with things like peppers or chili. I always thought that sounded hot and not in a good way, more like in the 'careful-where-you-put-your-hands-after-touching-that' kind of way."
Oliver laughs quietly but his eyes are darker now and oh, she's definitely got his attention. "And all of this will happen if I cook?"
She nods eagerly, her smile all gleeful and flirty as she tiptoes up to his mouth. "I think you've got great odds."
Thea meets them at an All Day Breakfast diner a couple blocks from the loft, hugging them both with a chorus of "Hey!" and "I'm sooooo hungry!" before they all bundle into one of the booths by the window.
Felicity's used to this dance by now—choosing the table with the best view of every exit so Oliver can be on alert at all times—but it's still surprising to see Thea doing the same thing; her eyes darting here and there, her hand never far from one of the knives.
Her stomach sinks, heavy with dread or sadness she's not really sure, and she has to take a moment to plaster on a smile.
"It's funny," Thea says, looking up from her menu. "I keep thinking mom never would've eaten in a place like this." She flaps and wobbles the plastic to make her point.
"I don't know," Oliver says, running his finger over the crack in the leather seating where some of the stuffing is poking through. "I took her to Big Belly once. She liked it."
"SHUT UP. NO WAY."
"Way," he nods, and Felicity actually snorts.
The waitress reappears soon after, loudly chewing gum and barely looking at them while she takes their order and pours them coffee. Once she leaves, Thea rests her cheek against her brother's shoulder, looking so much like a little sister in that moment, all clingy and wide-eyed.
The contrast from the night before is pretty startling.
Still, Felicity shoots Oliver a smug knowing look, a patented mix of 'I told you so' and 'You should listen to me always' and she grins against her coffee cup when he rolls his eyes.
He's smiling though, hasn't really stopped, and it's so wonderful she could burst.
"So," Thea starts, pouring sugar on the tabletop and twirling spirals into the granules while they wait for their food. "Have you decided where you're going?"
Oliver matches Felicity's clueless shrug with the softest of smiles, so content and full of hope at the possibilities stretching out before them.
"Wherever we want," he says softly.
Thea frowns at that. "So you don't even know yet?"
"I think we'll probably just see where the mood takes us, I guess." Felicity frowns too because driving without a destination seems even crazier in the plain light of day and holy frack, she really did quit her job to do this.
"I don't really know," she adds, chewing at her thumbnail, trying not to think about the huge crater of panic forming in her chest at what they're doing, how much she's changing her life right now. "I've never road tripped before."
"Really?" Oliver asks, surprised.
"Really," she shrugs, even though it's true. "My mom was always working and we couldn't afford to go away. We did day trips to the Grand Canyon and Sedona sometimes but nothing more. My first plane ride was from Vegas to Boston and then after MIT I came straight to Starling. So no travelling for me."
"This won't do," Thea says, shaking her head in disbelief. "Ollie, you have to take her everywhere now."
"I plan to. I already said, anywhere she wants."
"Ugh, you're so mushy. It's disgusting."
"That's what I said earlier! Well, no, I only thought it but still. We're kind of gross." Felicity laughs at the affronted look on Oliver's face, the way he straightens in his seat. "Oliver, it's true. We're gonna be one of those couples who make people roll their eyes as they pass us on the street."
He grins at that, as wide as she's ever seen. "I can't wait."
"Oh my god." Thea fake gags around her finger a couple of times but she's smiling. "Who are you?"
"I don't know yet but that's what we're going to find out."
Thea nods but her face is vacant now, like she doesn't really understand, and things aren't so funny anymore.
"And you have to go far away to do that?" she asks.
"Yes," Oliver says instantly. "I don't want to leave you. This is not about that. This about me needing some time and space from all of this."
His fingers hover against his mouth while he pulls himself together, takes a careful breath, the way he always does when he's about to share more of himself than he's truly comfortable with.
"Three years ago I came back here with one goal in mind and that was to save the city and die trying. That's all I've done since. I've done nothing but fight." He looks over to Felicity then, hooks her gaze intently so she's in no doubt of his meaning when he says, "Now I want to live."
The silence is charged with the weight of his words and it's probably appropriate that their order arrives shortly after, giant plates of pancakes and syrup and toast sliding in front of them, bursting their somber little bubble with the sweet smell of food.
Felicity smiles her thanks to the waitress but rests a trembling hand on Oliver's knee, just to let him know she's here and his words mean everything to her, and he clutches at her grip like a lifeline.
"Right. Well." Thea breaks the silence finally, shrugging like it's no big deal. "I can't argue with that."
"You probably could but he wouldn't listen anyway."
"Mmm. Sounds about right."
Oliver huffs a breath through his smile, the kind he gets when he's torn between frustrated and amused but can't settle on either, and starts digging into his breakfast, shaking his head the whole time.
"This is how it's gonna be, isn't it?" he asks, mumbling through a mouthful of toast.
"How what's gonna be?" Thea lifts her head to look at him, winkles her nose at the sight. "And gross, Ollie. Don't talk with your mouth full."
"You two. Ganging up on me."
Thea throws Felicity a puzzled kind of grin before her face breaks into an "Oh" of understanding. "Yeah. Sorry Ollie. We've bonded now."
Felicity reaches for Oliver's hand again and her pulse really likes the way he drops his cutlery instantly, weaving their fingers together with such certainty, out in the open for all to see.
"Yeah. This is your life now, Oliver. How do you feel about that?"
"I feel pretty good about it," he grins, punctuating his point with a squeeze of her hand.
"You'll call, won't you?" Thea asks, standing outside the diner, looking like she's not quite sure what to do with her hands.
It's past lunchtime now, much later than they ever intended to leave the city, but the ease of their talk and laughter over brunch had them lingering, all clinging to a moment of normality that has been so few and far between since, well, forever.
"Of course," Oliver says sincerely, frowning like he can't believe she even doubts it, and tugs his sister close, wrapping her up in his arms. "You know I will."
Thea clutches at his jacket. "You didn't really keep in touch much last time," she grumbles, a shade away from whiny.
"Last time?"
"Yeah, when you went away after Tommy died and..." She pulls away, closing the sides of her jacket tight across her chest in a gesture of defense and not against the cold. "You weren't skiing were you?"
The light of the morning slinks into a frown, and Oliver gets that dark faraway look in his eye while he goes back to that moment, that horrible memory.
"No. But I promise it will be different now."
"Yeah. He's got me to boss him around now. Not that I'm bossy or anything," Felicity adds hastily. "Just — I'll remind him to call you. And I'll call too! I might even try out some postcards. I like the idea of sending a postcard from every place we stop. That's very road trip-y. There's also email and texting and we could try out Skype."
"That would be pretty funny to see," Thea says, smiling now. "The Arrow trying to Skype."
Oliver's smile leaves his eyes again. "I'm not that person anymore."
"Whatever you say, brother." She taps his chest a couple of times. "Think of a new name then."
"Ooooh—"
"Felicity," he warns. "Don't."
"Well, that ruins all my fun. Maybe we should ask Cisco. He's pretty good at thinking up cool names." She scrunches her face, thinking better of it. "Most of the time."
"Cisco?" Thea asks, tilting her head slightly, and Felicity could kick herself because it's still really hard to keep up with who knows whose secret identity.
Even now.
"Yeah. He's from S.T.A.R. Labs. You actually met him at Verdant a while ago. You'll probably talk to him now that you're on the team. If there's any sort of tech you might need inventing, he's your guy."
"That's good to know. I think? I don't really know. I'm still new at this. I don't know what to expect."
"I expect you to be safe, Speedy. That's all that matters."
"Well, that goes without saying," Felicity interrupts before Oliver puts his giant big brother foot in it somehow. "But listen to Digg if you're ever unsure. He knows everything. Or you can always call me. I've got my tablet and my phone and if you need help or anything just get in touch. Anytime. I mean it. I'm not just saying that."
"Thanks Felicity. I'm glad we did this."
"Me too."
They share a smile probably a beat longer than necessary and Felicity has a split-second thought of oh, what the hell as she brings Thea in for a hug because she's not usually a hug-y person but she's feeling so much right now. She's just about to pull away when Thea clutches at her, hands so fierce and clingy against her back, and all Felicity can do is smile and pat her in a way she really hopes is more soothing than condescending. She's pretty sure she's successful once she catches the muted smile on Oliver's face as he watches the whole thing.
"Do I get another hug?" he asks, clearing his throat slightly.
"I suppose," Thea says, sliding back into his arms. "You're coming back, right?"
"I'll always come back to you," Oliver says seriously, leaving little doubt that he means it. "You're my family."
"I mean, to the city. To your mission."
"Thea..."
"Look, I heard everything you said earlier. I know you need to go away. I understand that. I want that for you. You deserve to be happy and I'm glad you've found someone like Felicity to do that with because I like her, Ollie. I really do."
Oliver smiles, all gentle and dreamy-eyed, and catches the blush on Felicity's cheeks as she ducks her head and tries to pretend she hasn't heard anything, although that's kind of difficult when he won't let her out of his sight.
"Me too," he says.
"Yeah, I kind of got that." Thea jabs him playfully a couple of times, loving teasing him if the smile lighting her eyes is anything to go by. "But what I'm trying to say is, I think this is where you're supposed to be."
"Thea," he sighs, ragged and heavy with so many unsaid things, and Felicity knows he's biting back his frustration when he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to do this anymore. And even if I did, I don't want to think or talk about it yet. So can we just leave it, please?"
Thea searches his face for a long quiet moment, nodding slowly even though she probably doesn't agree. "Okay. Just call me when you do want to talk, okay? No more hiding from me. I want to know everything."
"And you will. I promise. No more secrets."
"Good." She nods again, and her sigh is a note of pure relief. "I love you, Ollie."
"I love you, too," he says, pressing a kiss against her hairline. "Be safe, okay? And listen to Diggle. He's not my biggest fan anymore but he is my family, which means he's your family too."
"Always listen to Diggle," Thea repeats. "Call you. Stay safe. I got it. Now go!"
There's time for one last hug and then she watches them from the curb as they climb inside the car and pull away, and doesn't stop waving until they're as hazy as the heat on the horizon.
About an hour outside of the city Felicity turns away from the sunny blur of the coast rushing past and says, "So...where are we going? I'm thinking a state that can annul a Nanda Parbat marriage."
Oliver huffs out another laugh, and it's all he's been doing, like he's practicing the action or simply making up for lost time.
"Can I say something strange?" He pauses, not really waiting for a response, and looks at the road ahead in more ways than one, his expression almost blissful and definitely content.
"I'm happy," he finishes softly, and guns the engine hard.
"You know, I do have one place in mind," Oliver says sometime later, raising his voice over the sound of the traffic around them, a bleating horn.
They've been driving south on the I-5 for a few hours now, not really talking about much of anything apart from where they're going because Felicity suggests a new place with every sign they pass.
"Tell me," she insists.
"My dad took me and Tommy on a camping trip to Big Sur when we were kids, not long after Tommy's mom died. We started doing different things to cheer him up. Camping, fishing, trips to the lake. That kind of thing."
"That's really sweet," Felicity says, tracing his fingers where they're linked between her own. "So Big Sur? Is that where we're headed?"
"I think so. Yeah." He nods at himself, like he's just made up his mind. "Is that okay?"
"More than. Wherever we want, right?"
"Right," he grins, and presses on.
They talk on and off after that, snatching conversation between songs on the radio and debating whether or not Felicity can actually rap and no, apparently she cannot, although Oliver's laughter once she tries is totally worth the embarrassment.
It's sweet and honeyed and a little unsure but her pulse skips at the sound.
Eventually though, they both grow hungry and tired and after a quick check on her phone Felicity points out that Big Sur is still another six hours away, depending on traffic, and so maybe a break would be for the best.
She also needs to charge her phone and take a long hot shower because driving along the freeway with the top down is definitely not as glamorous as it sounds. She feels grimy and dusty and gross.
The sky is black and starless by the time they pull into a small motel just off the freeway, with a gas station and a cluster of fast-food restaurants close by, but it's the glowing 'Wi-Fi available' sign that really sells it.
Felicity fist-bumps the air with a "Yes!" and Oliver just grins as he parks the car in the lot.
It's late once they've checked in and they still need to eat, so Oliver makes use of the tiny shower first while Felicity connects to the Wi-Fi on her tablet and makes sure everything is okay at home.
It's a habit at this point.
She finishes her mini-task just as the water turns off and the rattle of the shower curtain sliding back drifts out with the steam curling through the open bathroom door.
Taking that as an invitation, Felicity leans against the doorframe grinning dreamily at Oliver standing in front of the mirror with a towel hitched around his waist, skin still damp and dotted with water droplets here and there. He's studying some of the miniature toiletries she lined up near the sink, opening one of her moisturizers and smiling at the familiar scent of her, and Felicity doesn't think she'll ever tire of looking at him like that.
There's so much power in the broadness of his back and the strength of his shoulders and how they tighten and clench as he moves.
He's beautiful. It's as simple as that really.
She lets her eyes slide leisurely from his bare feet pressing wet footprints into the bathmat, over his ass and up the line of his back covered with scars she knows by memory now, but her gaze stumbles on one she doesn't recognize on his shoulder blade.
The mark looks arrow shaped, pinkish-red and peeling in places where the new skin is coming through and all of the joy of the day has gone, just like that.
"Oliver," she starts, pausing to swallow the quiver of her voice. "What's—"
She steps further into the steamy heat of the room and Oliver seems to know what she's seen because he tenses and drops his head with a sigh, his shoulders going slack.
"Felicity—"
"I...I don't..." she trails off again because what do you say to someone who's been branded like an animal?
What do you say when it's the man you love the most?
She's usually so good at finding words and pouring them into all of the silent spaces and gaps in conversation, stretching it with noise, even if it's awkward sometimes, but now everything gets lodged solidly in her throat. She doesn't know whether to cry or scream or throw things, and the only other time she's felt such overwhelming anger is when Malcolm Merlyn had the nerve to leave a bloody sword as a sign of death in the one place she's ever really felt safe, the one place that truly felt like home.
Her hands are shaky with rage as she traces the outline of the scar with her fingertips, not really touching the skin where it burned but Oliver tenses anyway.
Felicity inhales a deep shuddery breath because this is definitely not the kind of detail either of them had in mind this morning and don't cry don't cry don't cry.
"It's okay," he says, so quiet it's almost a whisper. "I'm fine."
She doesn't really believe that but nods anyway. "Aloe Vera."
"What?"
She blinks rapidly enough for a single tear to drop a line down her cheek and she sweeps it away with the back of her hand, hoping he hasn't noticed.
"We need to get you some Aloe Vera gel. The skin isn't broken anymore so it won't sting and it should help it heal faster. We'll buy some tomorrow."
Oliver meets her eyes in the watery glaze of the mirror and seems to understand the depth of what she doesn't say — what she can't say right now.
"If you think it will help."
"It will," she promises quietly. "I'll even rub it in for you."
His smile is not as bright as before but it's something. "Even better."
Felicity stares at him sadly for a long moment, mouth twitching with an almost-smile, but then her eyes slide back to his scar again and the strength she's been drawing from somewhere these last few weeks sags from her spine.
She presses her forehead against the center of Oliver's back still damp with the clean scent of soap, curling her arms about his waist from behind and holding him close for a second, just a little more, and nothing else needs to be said.
It takes a minute but Oliver slides his hands across hers, tentative at first, and they both just stand there and breathe together for a while because right now that's all they can do and that's okay.
Right now, it's enough.
