So I wrote a thing inspired on yesterday's dialogue teases (I know there are probably plenty of drabbles about that already around, but wanted to write these scenes out anyway so hope you're not too tired of it); and also based on a prompt by geodude96 (that I have genderbent, hope you don't mind!) and that I add in the end notes so as not to spoil you the story.
Hope you guys like it!
KEEP ME WARM
It dawns on her after a moment of quiet. He's got nowhere to go.
They are still standing in his living room, the last rays of light dimming in the distance as night threatens to take over them.
Oliver's hand remains enclosed around hers, his fingers ghosting over soft skin trying to chase the darkness away. Then a pang of pain on her leg reminds her of the car crash earlier, muscles complaining on all the standing and walking around too.
That's when she craves home; that's when she realizes Oliver probably does too, but doesn't have any -the lost look on his face more than proving her point-.
He has places but not ones that count today. The foundry is a wreck and as for the manor, it feels terribly hollow and cold, clouded with ghosts and danger; surely not what he needs right now, especially if he feels half as drained as she does.
She mades up her mind in a second, giving his hand a light tug to gain his attention. When their eyes lock she musters as much strength as she possibly can for her voice to sound steady, commanding.
"Stay at my place tonight."
It's more of a statement than a question, a non-refutable offer that coupled with a tilt of her head makes any impending complaint die at his lips.
A grateful smile graces them instead, one that he hopes conveys as much as the one at the beach did.
Before long she's guiding him towards the door, the darkness that begins to take over them manor being left behind as they ride away on his bike.
Her place is messier than it usually is as she turns the lights on; all the life saving and chasing after superhuman evil soldiers over those past few weeks having taken a toll on her house keeping.
Yet she knows it doesn't matter, not for him, not for her right now. That is a morning problem, after a nice hot bath and a good night sleep... maybe in another order, she ponders as her leg throbs with pain.
Crossing the threshold Felicity takes off her boots as she walks further inside, toes curling with relief when they make contact with the cold tiles of her kitchen floor. Oliver remains anchored in the spot by her door, eyes scanning the place by the time she comes back and offers a glass of water his way.
"What's wrong? Scratch that, that's a pretty dumb question right now, with a hell of a lot of answers. What are you looking for?"
He barely moves at her question, yet draws comfort from the fact that's the most either of them have spoken in quite a while.
"Cameras or microphones." He mutters in a hushed tone, always aware that danger is right around the corner, especially when you least expect it.
"There're none," she promptly assures matter of factly, "I scan for those all the time, and there's no way anyone bypassed my security set up without alarming my phone, A.R.G.U.S. or not."
That seems to get his attention, dropping his guard to some extent, pride written in those deep blue eyes when they meet hers. She manages to give him a lopsided smile, though faint and barely masking the tiredness that weights her down.
Silence stretches on for a beat as they simply stand there, another of those charged moments in which their unspoken thoughts fill the air and do their best to be conveyed one longing look at the time.
It doesn't escape her attention these are happening quite often after that somewhat truthful confession of his almost twenty-four hours prior. She's pretty darn sure they won't stop if he keeps looking at her like that, warming something deep within her that she's been trying to hold back for so long.
He seems to be inching towards her; not making a move really but closing in on her senses , deep blues boring into hers until they become too much, way too much for a single day. Before she can filter them through, words leave her lips in a flurry, a feeble attempt to make things less charged between them.
"You need to be in my bed."
As soon as her brain takes in what has been said, way too late really, her eyes snap shut; but not before she can see his pop wide open -his mind surely having gone there as well-.
"I meat sleeping in my bed, not with me in it of course, that would not be a great idea..." she fumbles meeting his gaze again, "because you are ginarmous and my bed's not as big to fit us both without you being all over me and oh my god, I'm just gonna shut up and blame that one to exhaustion that is weakening the already feeble filter my brain normally has."
By the end of her babbling a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, barely twitching upwards but she'll take it. Getting those kind of reactions, especially in times like these, make any verbal slips worth it.
"The guest room's bed will do just fine."
His voice is warm, still low and wearied from lack of sleep, the day's events weighting down on them hard as they finally took a breath.
"Yeah, that is no longer there though, I may have given it away to Mrs. Harris down the hall after hers broke down a month ago," she shares running a hand through her hair before another thought bubbles up, "wait... how did you know-?"
The implied question hangs in the air as he does his best to look sheepishly while shrugging, a hint of humor lacing his words when he finally explains himself.
"You updated your security system after joining the team."
Felicity simply shakes her head, trying not to dwell on the fact that he's been here before, without her consent and most probably going through her things. He had in fact admitted to checking her out before approaching her for his night activities... not that kind of checking her out though, that she was aware of.
Anger and laying down privacy rules will have to wait for another day, she thinks as Oliver fails to fight back a yawn.
"So, that leaves my bed, for you."
"Felicity-," he begins arguing only to be silenced by a finger to his lips, his eyes gluing themselves to the newly established contact. That is one way to shut him up, maybe not the preferred one... oh shut up, brain!
"I already know what the next words out of your mouth will be so just save them. Chivalry to the side, you are definitelymore in need of a comfy bed that I am, broken ribs and all." She adds gesturing to his chest with her free hand.
Another moment passes until he raises an eyebrow, his sight back to his still covered lips making her pull them away, suddenly very aware of them beneath her fingers, chapped and thin, but oh so gentle... mind out of the gutter, Felicity!
"Yeah, sorry."
"It's okay, thank you," he offers still amazed with how she keeps trying to take care of him, even when she so clearly needs care too. "but don't think I haven't noticed you limping all this time."
Felicity blushes, recounting the three times he has offered to carry her in his arms, or even piggy-back her over ever since the car crash. As great as that had felt it surely wasn't safe for her sanity, or his battered body after Slade's final showdown.
"Your leg-", he begins only to be cut short by her taking a step forward, a hand pressed onto his chest distracting him long enough for her to make her case.
"-is gonna be perfectly fine perched on the sofa. A pain killer or two will do the trick overnight. You on the other hand look like hell."
He chuckles under his breath, the closest to a laugh he has let out in a while, something warming in his chest as she tries to backtrack from her failed wording as usual.
"I mean you look terrible-spent just..." She gives up, taking a deep breath. When she speaks again her voice is firm and leaves little room for arguments, "you are barely in one piece, Oliver. Just please, for once, don't fight me when I'm trying to take care of you. You can do all the brooding in the morning, but right now I'm exhausted and by the looks of it you are too. So, pretty please, take the big, nice bed upstairs and be done with it."
As usual, Felicity's not wrong. His body aches like never before; now that adrenaline has dwindled down until serenity has taken over every single cut and blow is making itself known.
"just this once," he accepts a moment later, the familiar guilt residing in his gut being smothered by her beaming smile at his surrender. "But you are more than welcome to use it too, I can... make myself small."
"Thank you but I think the couch will be safer."
Whether she means safer for their bodies or their wandering thoughts remains a doubt as she gives him one final nod and climbs to the second floor of her small apartment to get it ready for him.
Barely a minute goes by as he remains taking her place in, Felicity's personality present in every single touch in both rooms at sight, something that makes him feel more at home than he has in quite a while.
She's back with another weak smile and a hand to his arm, another silent thank you passing through, one of many more to come as she keeps reading his thoughts and filling in the darkness this last fall-out has left him with.
Without another word he walks upstairs and gets ready for bed, her bed, colorful and pillow-crowded. He does his best to not dwell on it, or on those three damn words that had rolled off his lips last night changing seemingly anything but yet so much.
He meant it, actually fully realized how much he does love her when voicing the sentiment; she knows too. Where they go from there is yet to be seen, and something to ponder at another time, he concludes as slumber takes over every fiber of his being when he finally slumps onto her bed.
That's how he drifts off; over mint green sheets, her smell of vanilla in the air, and the sound of falling water in the distance as... Felicity's taking a shower?
It takes him a full minute to focus back on the task and forget about that, finally giving in to his burning exhaustion and drifting into a peaceful slumber as he hasn't had in so long.
Felicity had been changing out of her clothes after taking the much needed aspirins, already eyeing with utmost excitement the make-shift bed her couch was, when she spotted it.
Blood, dry blood barely under the collar of her shirt. It was Oliver's, surely from when she had tended to his cuts earlier and a stray hand had tainted her fair skin. She was well over the point of being grossed out by it, after over a year of doing this job she'd gotten used to -though still disliked- the gore that came with it. That was the tipping point though in her mental debacle of sleep versus shower.
Being careful of not making too much noise, Felicity made her way to the bathroom on the second floor that not so luckily was located right next to her room.
She is in and out in ten minutes, reveling in the hot steam only long enough for it to soothe her aching muscles and wash away any trace of Slade's attack, both to her and to Oliver.
Having become aware a little too late of the fact her clothes are all in her room, a sigh of relief leaves her lips when she spots a familiar shirt on the hanger outside of her shower. It's a lucky coincidence it happens to be one of her favorites, the one she subconsciously wears seeking comfort after a tough day.
Slipping it on together with a fresh pair of underwear she finds downstairs, she's falling onto her couch within two minutes, damp hair falling over the edge as she finds a comfortable position; any will do tonight.
A few hours of restless sleep go by, as nightmares come calling or a twinge in her side awakes her only for sleep to call her back under again. It may be at four or five in the morning when she crawls from under the sheets and blindly stumbles upstairs for a bathroom break; another two minutes and she's back in bed, eyes still mostly shut as she snuggles against the pillow, pulling soft sheets over heated skin and popping a button of her shirt open as it seems to get hotter by the minute.
Was the couch this warm just a second ago? She doesn't dwell on it, simply falls back into slumber doing her best to forget the last twenty four hours, at least for the time being.
It's the next morning when it finally dawns on her. She will blame exhaustion for it; not a verbal slip this time, but a major brain one.
Oliver stirs in his sleep just shy of eight o'clock, the glowing numbers on the night stand startling him not only for how late and peacefully he has slept that night, but also for the mess of blonde curls that stand out between them both.
Vanilla and an indescribable softness attacks his senses next, making him asses his surroundings, reality crashing back.
Slade. The island. Exhaustion. Nowhere to go. An offer. Her bed. Felicity.
As if reading his thoughts she hums unintelligibly, her body shifting slightly beside his. Or under it would be more accurate, he realizes going stiff at the thought.
He's in her bed, that much is the same as last night; yet now she's there too and in his arms, her back against his front, cradled in his arms, burrowing further into his hold. Apparently his hands weren't idle as one lays on the pillow above her mat of hair, the other against her middle pulling her closer.
He allows himself a moment to take it all in, relaxing with her touch, the way she hums and rolls against him, all warmth and softness, pink lips and blue eyes. Light blue in the morning light, ones that pop open as soon as they meet his twinkling with amusement.
Realization kicks in soon enough about where she is, apparently the why not being as clear as her brow furrows with confusion. She remains in his hold for another moment, questions playing on her features until she settles on this being real life and definitely not normal.
Felicity pulls back then, too soon if he has a say in it -at least before the rational part of his brain kicks in-; and leaning back to the other side of the bed, as far as she can without tumbling to the floor, she stares at him, words playing on her tongue.
For once, he beats her to it.
"You took my offer of sharing the bed."
She takes comfort in the fact his tone is more playful than anything, hoarse with sleep yet carrying a lightness that was absent the night before, and the one before that one and so on. Still there's little she can do to fight the blush that taints her skin next, laugher finally leaving her lips before words as it finally makes sense.
"Would it sound totally fake if I blame it all to being on sleep-induced auto-pilot last night and wandering back to my room as usual?"
Her explanation comes though he truly doesn't need any, a slight nod his sole reply as Felicity proceeds to tug at her shirt, one that reaches mid-thigh and leaves a pretty clear view of her legs.
Wait a minute...
"Is that my shirt?"
"What?" Her voice comes laced with confusion that soon gets replaced by embarrassment as she follows his line of sight, taking in the light blue shirt she has on; her favorite, her go-to outfit for rainy days, his shirt from that bittersweet, bullet riddled day of the Clock King's final takedown.
"Um, it is," she offers blushing under his gaze, fingers coming up to close the upper bottom that revealed the delicate patch of skin of her cleavage, to where her deep blush reached and went beyond. "I sort of kept it after that night. Sara said I should and you never asked for it back so..." her attempt of an excuse drifts off as Oliver's smile widens, the first full on beaming one since all hell broke loose.
He takes a moment and then their eyes lock again, the same warmth and that something else that was present on the beach coming back in full force as his lips part again, giving voice to one thought that both further reddens her flesh and speeds her rapidly beating heart.
"Glad you kept it. It looks better on you."
Thanks for reading!
Prompts:
"You need to be in my bed."
"Stay at my place tonight."
"Oliver is sleeping on Felicity's couch. He gets up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or something. Then, still half asleep and therefore not realizing what he's doing, he gets into her bed."