Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and favorited this fic. I can't believe the response.
This is number two in the Stay The Night series. It's in canon...sort of. I'm colouring a little bit outside the lines (which surprises exactly none of my regular readers). I also played with the timeline a bit. Imagine several months passing between 2.07 and 2.13.
It is at times fluffier and angstier than I ever planned. It is also about four times longer than I'd anticipated. The two of them occasionally stray a bit into OOC but it adds to the overall story I think. I actually love this one more than the first. So I hope you all love it as well. Enjoy!
The first time he asked to stay the night was after he rescued her from the Count.
They'd had a comforting exchange in the Foundry where he'd assured her that her safety was the most important thing to him. She'd left the lair feeling light and special.
His words failed to comfort her however, as she faced the dark corners of her apartment when she arrived home. She'd quickly moved through her home and flicked on every light in the apartment. Her TV was loudly advertising kitchen appliances as she nervously tapped away on her tablet. She didn't really need to sleep that night. She could just have an extra cup of coffee in the morning. Or three.
The knock on her door elicited a shriek. She jumped to her feet and her tablet slipped through her fingers to land softly on the couch. She knew logically that the Count was dead and that she was safe. Probably. Maybe. But it had only been a couple hours since he'd trailed his fingers over her skin and through her hair as they waited for Oliver. It had been even less time since he'd placed those deadly needles against her throat.
"Felicity? It's Oliver."
Oh thank God. She rushed through her apartment and clumsily unlocked her door before throwing it open. His body was tense as he studied her. She could only imagine what he was seeing. If she looked half as frantic as she felt then he had good reason to look so worried. And he did look worried. His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes were narrowed as he stepped forward. He cupped her elbow and led her back inside. He threw the deadbolt before turning around and pulling her into his arms. She stiffened for a moment before relaxing. Team Arrow didn't really do hugs. Well she and John did. But Oliver had always seemed very anti-hug. He touched elbows and shoulders to express intimacy. He didn't hug. Ever.
For someone who didn't like to hug, he was really, really good at it. Her nose rubbed against his chest as she breathed him in. God, he smelled delicious, like man and expensive body wash with just the barest hint of sweat. His fingers trailed through her hair and her breath caught. His hands stilled and she shook her head.
"Don't stop, please." She mumbled tearfully against his heart. "He- he was touching my hair and it made me feel so-" She gulped as more tears escaped. "And I need to normalize it. I need for it not to be a thing. Please don't stop."
He buried his face in her hair as she spoke and she swore she felt tears dripping against the skin of her neck. His fingers resumed their slow pace through her curls and she relaxed further into him.
"Can I stay the night?" He mumbled against her neck.
There was no innuendo in his words and she was too tired to blush anyways. She pulled back slightly but he kept his face buried against her neck.
"You don't have to. I'll be okay. I-"
He finally pulled away and his eyes were just the littlest bit red. "Can I stay the night?"
As he repeated himself she realised that he was asking as much for himself as he was for her. She'd scared him tonight. He hadn't just stopped by to make sure she was okay. He'd stopped by because he needed to know, to see for himself that she was alright. He should be at home celebrating his Mother's freedom but he was here. He wanted to stay.
She nodded.
He spent more time watching her that night than sleeping. But she smiled all the same when she found him curled up on her couch the next morning. There was something frankly adorable about the sight of Oliver Queen, Vigilante and CEO curled up on her tiny couch. And if her heart clenched just a little bit at the sight of him there, well she'd never tell.
She sprained her ankle when one of the foundry's stairs gave beneath her as she walked into the lair. John had thankfully been in front of her and had caught her but the damage was already done.
Oliver had been livid that she'd been hurt where she was supposed to be safe. His hands had been gentle as he wrapped her ankle and then he'd spent hours beating the hell out of a training dummy and wrenching his way furiously up the salmon ladder.
He drove her home and carried her up to her apartment that night. He'd called and arranged for crutches to be delivered to her the next day.
He dropped her gently on the couch and headed to her kitchen to get another ice pack. She spent an hour watching Doctor Who. Oliver Queen sat next to her through it all with her feet in his lap. He'd attentively iced her injured ankle and had unconsciously been massaging her other foot for most of the final episode.
"Can I stay the night?" He asked her after he'd helped her into her bedroom.
She smiled and nodded. She knew she'd need his help in the morning. He dropped a kiss to her forehead and made himself at home on her couch.
She was dizzy.
She was dimly aware of the fact that Oliver was half-carrying her into her building. She couldn't remember leaving the hospital but the Benedryl was still in full effect.
She opened her eyes as Oliver laid her gently on the couch. His eyes had lost a bit of the frantic gleam that had been displayed earlier. She reached out and cupped his cheek. He allowed himself to lean against her hand for just a moment.
"I'm okay. Don't worry." She assured him tiredly.
He jerked out of her hand and started pacing. He was rubbing both hands over his head and his movements were making her dizzier.
"You almost died!" He snapped. "How could you possibly be okay?"
Felicity sighed and clenched her teeth as she fought to move into a sitting position. Her head was spinning and her throat hurt.
She understood why he was so upset. It was only a month ago that she'd hurt herself in the Lair. Going into anaphylactic shock in the middle of a board meeting had certainly been unexpected. She was supposed to be safe in the lair and at QC. He was feeling a loss of control. She understood that.
Felicity still can't believe she went into anaphylactic shock in front of the board of directors and Isabel of all people. There was a strict peanut-free policy on the executive floor and she'd never had a problem at work before. There had been some catering snafu.
"I should arrow those morons for messing up the order!" Oliver growled menacingly as he paced a hole in front of her.
They had been half-way through the meeting when the man next to her handed her the muffin tray. She hadn't eaten all day and was so hungry that she hadn't tasted the peanuts until her last bite.
Felicity cleared her throat before swallowing the last bite. She took a sip of water and swigged it around for a moment before swallowing it. Her eyebrow quirked as the faint aftertaste of peanuts hit her palette.
Shit. Oh shit. She cleared her throat again. Her tongue was itchy. And so was her throat. Oh shit. Not now.
Her hand rubbed her throat absently as she tried not to panic. Where was her purse?
In her office. Across the building.
Oh my God.
She coughed as her throat started to swell.
"Felicity?" Her eyes snapped up to meet Oliver's concerned gaze. He was presenting a new proposal to the board and he was all the way across the room. He dropped his notes and stepped forward as the panic on her face registered.
"Oliver!" She croaked out. He hurried towards her as she jumped to her feet. She swayed as the air tried to force its way through her closing throat. He caught her as she fell forward.
The room was in chaos. She could hear someone calling for an ambulance as she stared up at his panicked blue eyes.
"Peanuts." She gasped before losing consciousness.
She vaguely remembered a roar of anxiety before he disappeared from beneath her.
"Hey!" She grumbled aloud, catching his attention. "You made it across the building and back with my epi-pen in under a minute, Oliver. You saved my life."
His pacing slowed as he took in her words. "I was almost too late."
She rolled her eyes. "Well they let me out of the hospital the same day. So it wasn't that close."
Except that it was. While Oliver had been signing her out, the doctor had confided that mere seconds more and she'd be dead.
No need to tell him that.
"Come here, please." She requested tiredly, reaching her hand towards him.
He stepped forward immediately and placed his hand in hers. She pulled him forward to sit down on the couch beside her. She laid her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly.
"You saved my life. That's all that matters. Thank you." She mumbled as sleep started to pull her away from him.
His head turned just enough to allow him to press his lips against her hair. "Can I stay the night?"
She hummed the affirmative and fell asleep as he carried her to her bed.
No one ever ate peanuts within the walls of QC after that. Oliver's fury had made an impression.
His panic had done nothing to dispel the rumours of how he spent his nights. She'd gladly endure weeks of whispering over death by peanut though.
She was dying. She was sure of it. She couldn't breathe and everything hurt. Her eyes wouldn't open no matter how hard she tried and her head felt like it had been run over by a truck.
Felicity Smoak had a cold.
Not just any cold though. The world's worst cold. The kind of cold that could run for President and win. She had the kind of cold that wiped out thousands, nay millions of people during the dark ages. Her cold was possibly the first strain of a zombie plague.
She was probably going to die.
She was cocooned in a world of green duvet when the sound of distant knocking roused her from her latest coma. Her fingers crept towards the edge of the blanket pulled over her head. She slowly peeled the blanket away and was surprised by the darkness in her room. Where had the day gone?
"Felicity?" Oliver's voice carried through her apartment and a smile crossed her lips.
She didn't really want to get out of bed though.
"Felicity?" His voice held concern this time. His knocks grew just a bit louder.
Maybe if she ignored him he'd just come through the window. She blindly grabbed for her glasses and slid them onto her nose. Her head rolled to the side and she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Holy Mother of God.
"Felicity?"
Ugh. She rolled out of bed with too much gusto and ended up on the floor with a loud thud.
"Felicity?! Are you okay?" He yelled.
He was probably about ten seconds away from breaking her door in. She moved to her knees and then scrambled to her feet.
"Coming!" She mumbled. Her fists rubbed at her eyes as she stumbled through her dark apartment. She yawned as she slipped the deadbolt. She opened the door and found Oliver leaning against the doorframe with full arms. She raised her chin as she tried to sneak a peek at what was in the paper bags.
"I heard a crash." He accused worriedly.
She shrugged. "I fell out of bed."
He chuckled. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Did you miss the memo that I'm dying? I'm not in the mood for company."
He laughed again before stepping into her apartment. He brushed past her and she bit back a moan as his warm arm brushed against her cold shoulder.
"Make yourself at home." She grumbled sarcastically as he dropped the bags on the coffee table.
He shot her a smirk and she rolled her eyes with a smile. She yawned again and threw her arms over her head to stretch, exposing inches of her stomach. His eyes trailed down her body so quickly that she almost didn't catch it. He turned away with a smile and she glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing a tank top and boxer shorts. She ran a hand through her hair.
"I should probably get changed." She mumbled self-consciously.
Her spun to face her with a quizzical look. "Why? You're sick and you look fine. Your pjs are cute." He chuckled again.
She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before taking a seat next to him on the couch. "So, what's all this?"
She glanced at the clock on her blu-ray player. He should be at the lair. Or out fighting crime.
"I thought I'd take the night off. This is for you." He handed her a warm Tupperware container. "Raisa makes the world's best chicken noodle soup. I called her this morning and asked her to make some for you. It's life-saving stuff."
He was smiling warmly but she thought she caught a hint of a blush on his cheeks.
"Thank you." She told him quietly.
He hummed with a shrug before opening up the other bags. He pulled out various cough medications and throat lozenges. She smiled so wide that it hurt when she saw the hot water bottle and thermometer.
Tears stung her eyes as he placed the thermometer under her tongue. A few of them escaped after he declared that she was running a little warm with more concern than she'd expected.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked gently, a hand shooting forward to catch her tears.
"I'm just, um, not used to being taken care of." She admitted in a whisper. And wasn't that the truth.
Sadness shot through his eyes before he forced a smile on his face. He reached forwards and pulled her into his arms. She stayed cuddled into his side as he turned on a movie and she ate her soup.
"Can I stay the night?" He asked after the movie ended.
"Only if you promise to bring more soup tomorrow."
He chuckled before pulling her more firmly against his side. "I think that can be arranged."
She half expected him to show up the night of his mother's rally. He'd promised that she wouldn't lose him. And yeah she wasn't technically injured but he'd stopped by for less.
But he didn't come. And when she reviewed the footage from the lair the next morning, she knew why.
Maybe Moira had been right after all.
He showed up the night that the Clock King shot her. The pain medication was still in full force as she stumbled towards the sound of knocking. Hazy images and words were floating through her mind as she fumbled with the locks. Everything was a bit jumbled but she remembered enough to be embarrassed. Dig definitely hadn't given her aspirin.
She opened the door and the movement made her head spin. Her body swayed for a moment until strong hands gripped her good shoulder and her hip.
"Come on. You need to sit down." Oliver told her as he closed the door and led her towards the couch. She didn't realise her eyes were closed until he gently pushed her back against the soft cushions.
"Those weren't aspirins." She accused as she fought to open her eyes.
They fluttered open and shut for a moment before they remained open. She saw two very amused Olivers staring back at her. Two of them?
"Great. Like not having one of you wasn't hard enough." She spat out bitterly. "Now there's two of you. One for each Lance, I suppose. Convenient."
Her tongue was thick in her mouth and she moved it around, trying to loosen it. Her head was so foggy. Her eyes found Oliver again and she tilted her head in confusion. Why did he look so upset? She closed her eyes and thought back for a moment. Shit. She opened her eyes and blinked up at him.
"Apparently I'm kind of a bitch when I'm high." She explained before snorting in amusement. She hadn't been earlier. Had she actually thanked Sara for getting shot?
He was clearly uncomfortable, both of him. She raised her hands to frame one of Oliver. She figured the other one would disappear. She closed one eye. No such luck. Still two of him. Her arms dropped heavily.
"Oh well." She blew out a breath.
He, they were still staring at her. And the hurt on his face kind of pissed her off. Anger burned through her, providing enough clarity for her to see Oliver, only one Oliver, clearly.
"Why are you here?" Her tone was snarky and more than a little accusatory.
"Where else would I be?" He was angry.
She was angrier.
"I don't know. With your girlfriend?" Yup, definitely bitchier when she was high.
At least the rambling wasn't an issue. Because she was holding back so much right now. Her earlier snark about Lance sisters was only the tip of the iceberg.
She watched as Oliver ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath in frustration.
"You're ruining my high." She pointed out. "And you shouldn't be here."
"You're hurt." He argued.
His words had more meaning than he'd intended. Her eyes narrowed up at him.
"You're right. I am. I am hurt." She pointed a finger at him. "But the physical hurt isn't any of your business. And the other…" She trailed off with a shrug. A shrug that really really hurt. Who shrugs after getting shot? She does. Apparently.
He jumped to his feet. "You're kidding right? You got shot while on a mission."
She rolled her eyes and it made her head hurt. "No, I got shot because I was out on a mission of my own. I went out without backup and I got shot. Deal with it."
"You should never have been there." He shot back.
"Yeah well, you've been busy." Ugh, she didn't even like herself right now.
He was staring down at her and that look was on his face again.
"Get out."
"But you're hurt and I always-" He was almost pleading with her now.
"Always come over to check on me. Yeah I know. It's our thing." She wiped hastily at the tear he was watching track its way down her cheek. "Except that you have a girlfriend. Someone you care about."
She heard his breath catch but she couldn't quite look at him right now.
"Is that what this is about?" He asked so quietly she could barely hear him.
Tears were flowing freely now. She glared at him and scrambled to her feet. "Why would it be about that? I'm always going to be your girl, right?" She hated the way her mouth twisted sarcastically around his earlier words. "Except that I'm not your girl, Oliver. Sara is. So you can't show up here when I'm hurt. You don't have the right to take care of me. You can't act like you care because you don't. Not enough. So go home to your girl and the next time I'm hurt, stay there."
He took a few steps back like he'd been slapped. Maybe he had been. Her palm was stinging.
"Please let me stay." And that was it. He didn't have a single thing to say about everything she'd thrown at him.
She walked away from him. She threw back two more "aspirins" with a glass of water and slammed her bedroom door behind her.
He was gone in the morning.
Things were tense between the two of them for the next few weeks. And regardless of the promise that he'd made at his mother's rally, she had lost him.
The team worked around the tension that expanded daily between the two of them. They barely spoke at QC and she emailed him any information that he needed instead of telling him personally. She spent her lunch hour away from the office, away from him.
She hadn't said anything she didn't mean that night. She could have done it more politely but really what had he expected?
She'd been annoyed to see his face on her phone's screen the night that Slade Wilson crawled out of his shallow grave. Then she'd just been scared. Sara's rather melodramatic warning had freaked her out.
"Please save Oliver." Had been out of her mouth before she could stop it. And really how pathetic was that? Begging the girlfriend to save the life of the man that Felicity loved?
In the end threats were made and revenge sworn. She listened dully to it all from her place in the lair. Once she knew that Dig was safe and the team was on their way back, she left. She wasn't needed for anything that would happen that night and she wasn't prepared to see Oliver.
She missed him. But he wasn't hers to miss. Maybe he never really had been.
She was expecting the knock on her door that night. She remained on the couch as he continued knocking. He called her name softly through the door but she ignored it. She heard him slide down the door and knew he planned on staying there.
John Diggle was placed on guard duty the next day. The fact that it was on Oliver's orders went unspoken.
She didn't tell Slade Wilson that he had the wrong girl. She didn't waste her breath because really what did it matter? It may as well be her here instead of Laurel. She couldn't bear the thought of Detective Lance losing a daughter. Again. She respected and in her own way loved the man like the father she'd never had.
So she stayed silent.
Slade had grabbed her after a rather unsuccessful date the night before. And really wasn't that just the kicker. Not only had she failed to find a man who she had actual chemistry with but the tall, dark stranger who'd approached her afterwards hadn't wanted her either. Not in any way she was interested in anyways.
So here she knelt. On a cold, dirty cement floor next to Sara Lance.
Her disappearance might not have triggered any alarms but she was sure that Sara's would. So she waited silently. She ignored the bickering going on between Sara and Slade and waited.
"Felicity."
She ignored her. It wasn't very mature and certainly not very polite but she just couldn't do this right now. She was going to die tonight but she didn't have to like it. She didn't have to pretend that it was fair. Because as much as she liked Sara, and she did, the other woman had shown up and stolen something from her. Oliver may never have been hers, but her dignity and her place on Team Arrow had been. And Sara had slowly but surely pushed her out.
And now Felicity was going to die. Oliver would never show up at her apartment again and ask to spend the night because he'd made his choice ages ago.
Slade may as well pull the trigger now. Then at least Oliver wouldn't have to watch.
"Do you really think so, Miss Smoak?" Slade taunted.
Well apparently her last thoughts had stumbled past her lips. She didn't reply.
"I'd much rather watch Oliver face death, whether it be your own or Sara's. Although you're probably right to be concerned, Love. He has chosen her before." He continued.
Sara was yelling obscenities but Felicity continued to stare at the empty space in front of her. Her fingers lay loosely in her lap. And how fitting was that? Sara had metal chains around both her ankles and wrists and Felicity knelt with all limbs free. Even in Slade's eyes she was the weaker link. He was wrong.
The door in front of her burst open and Oliver thundered into the room. The hood was raised but she knew without seeing that he was furious. He shouted at Slade but all she heard was white noise. She took a deep breath. And then she took another. Her gaze raised from Oliver's feet to his face. And for the first time in months she didn't feel like glaring at him. He was here and that was all that mattered. Tears fell down her cheeks as she tried to smile. She saw his mouth twist in horror before she turned away from him. She gazed at Sara for a moment. The woman cocked her head, questions shining in her eyes.
"Take care of him." Felicity pleaded thickly.
Oliver shouted behind her as she twisted to face Slade and moved slowly to her feet.
"I'll shoot you, Miss Smoak" Slade growled in warning as she took a step forward.
She nodded, tears running freely down her cheeks. She took another step forward and he raised the gun to her forehead.
"No!" Oliver roared.
Felicity took the final step forward. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the barrel of the gun.
Oliver was shouting and pleading from his place and she couldn't listen to it anymore. She raised shaking hands and covered her ears.
"Do it." She whispered brokenly. She didn't want to die. Especially with Oliver watching. But she wouldn't allow another to die in her place.
She counted to ten. And then she counted to twenty. She pressed her hands more firmly against her ears as Slade and Oliver shouted back and forth.
She shuddered as something whistled past the hand covering her ear. The gun scraped across her forehead before moving away. Her eyes popped open in time to watch Slade Wilson's body crumple at her feet. The bullet in his forehead was still smoking. The gun lay uselessly in his fingers as blood pooled around his body. She stared for another moment before she stepped over the body and walked out of the building. She didn't stop walking.
He was standing in her living room when she got home. He was still in full Arrow gear and her window was open. Apparently he didn't plan on being ignored. She stepped out of her shoes and dropped her keys on the side table. She threw her jacket on the back of the couch and walked right past him. She closed the bathroom door behind her and stripped out of her clothes. Every item of clothing landed in the garbage can. She stepped under the hot spray of her shower and closed her eyes as she washed her hair and scrubbed at the dirt. Only when she was standing in a towel did she look at herself in the mirror. There were bruises marring her ivory skin from where Slade had grabbed her over the past 24 hours.
But he was dead. So what were a few bruises?
She stepped out of the bathroom and got dressed slowly. She towel-dried her hair for several minutes before she was ready to face him.
He hadn't moved since she'd walked into the apartment. Tension was rolling off of him in waves and he might actually be angrier now than he'd been when he walked into the warehouse. She gave him a wide berth as she walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. She leaned against the sink and sipped slowly as she watched him.
She washed her glass and placed it in the drying rack. She stepped forward and folded her arms across her chest as she slowly turned to face her. He hadn't lowered the hood and she wasn't sure if it was for his benefit or hers.
"How's Sara?" She asked finally and was happy to note that no traces of bitterness accompanied the question. They were past that.
She watched as his fists clenched. A sharp growl tore its way through his throat and it was her only warning before he stalked forwards. She backed up hastily until she met the wall but he kept coming. His body pressed up against hers and she could feel just how angry he was. It was in every muscle and sinew of his body.
"Are you stupid?" He demanded with more hostility than he usually gave criminals.
She raised her chin defiantly. "Are you?"
He practically snarled his next words. "I asked you first."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah well, a psychopath tried to kill your girlfriend tonight and you're here so that actually answers my question."
His fist crumbling the drywall about a foot to the left of her shoulder was his only response.
She narrowed her eyes. "You're paying for that, Jerk."
He pushed off the wall and away from her. She shivered at the sudden loss of warmth.
"What the hell were you thinking? Why- why, shit." His anger was replaced by anguish as he sucked in a ragged breath. "Why did you do that?"
Her arms folded across her chest defensively as she stepped away from the wall. "I wasn't willing to be another victim on your conscience. So I made the choice so you wouldn't have to." She raised her chin. "And I'd do it again."
A sound of total brokenness echoed through the room and she was amazed that it had come from him.
"And you think your death wouldn't have destroyed me?" He whispered anxiously, accusingly.
She shrugged as tears gathered in her eyes. "You made your choice months ago." Oliver let out a strangled groan. "I decided we didn't need to rehash it."
He turned away from her and his tears glistened in the moonlight that was filtering in through the open window.
"So you offered yourself up, so I wouldn't do it myself?" He asked with disgust.
She knew that her next answer was an important one. Logically she knew that he cared about her. In his own way he actually loved her. He was thoughtless and selfish and stupid but all of the hurts he'd caused her had been unintentional.
"No. I decided not to be a pawn in a men's game of revenge. I decided that I was willing to die."
And it was the truth. She'd had her doubts and she'd been furious as she knelt there. But when she'd seen him those feelings had disappeared. Because she loved him, and she didn't want him to face a choice that would destroy him.
"I decided to be the hero for once." She added when he didn't answer her. "I decided to save you this time."
She was in his arms before she saw him move. Her own arms wrapped around his waist as she laid her cheek against his thundering heart. Their tears mingled as they held each other tightly.
"I'm so sorry." He promised against her forehead. "I am never going to be able to explain how sorry I am. There's too much to say and not enough words to say it."
She nodded against the leather covering his chest. "I know." She sniffled. "I'm sorry too."
They held each other silently for what could have been a lifetime or only stolen moments in time.
"Can I stay the night?" He whispered desperately against her neck.
He held her like his life depended on it. So she didn't ask him about Sara. She didn't ask why he needed to be there. She just accepted that he was.
She pulled away from him and he stiffened, preparing himself for rejection. Her hand slowly lowered his hood before dropping to tangle her fingers with his. She pulled him towards her room.
He held her throughout the night.
And was gone in the morning.
Sara moved in with her father the next day. Nothing was said about the end of her relationship with Oliver but she no longer fought with the team or worked at Verdant.
Felicity sent a "Thank You" card to Deadshot for his timely sniping. Apparently A.R.G.U.S had wanted Slade Wilson gone as much as Oliver had.
Life moved on slowly and on occasion, awkwardly. Team Arrow struggled to move past Felicity's willing sacrifice. Roy had been surprisingly the most vocal in his disapproval. He yelled furiously and incoherently for several minutes before crushing her to his chest in the tightest hug she'd ever received.
Diggle had dropped passive aggressive comments for several days before her patience snapped. The two of them had yelled at each other before falling into a rather tearful truce.
Things with Oliver were predictably the most uncomfortable. His eyes followed her every movement, not even glancing away when she raised her own gaze in challenge.
He was fighting a war within himself and she wasn't quite sure if he was winning or losing. She wasn't really sure if he wanted to win or lose.
Four weeks after Slade Wilson's death, Felicity Smoak cut her finger on the paperwork she was setting down on Oliver's desk. He raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged. She stuck the bleeding digit in her mouth before turning and walking back to her desk.
Nine hours later she was sitting on her couch watching Supernatural when he knocked on her door. He was standing in the hall with a box of Band-Aids and a carton of mint chip ice cream. Her face must have shown her confusion.
"I thought I'd stop by to see how you were feeling." He supplied as a playful grin lit up his handsome face. "Nasty business, papercuts."
Felicity stared at him for a second before laughter bubbled in her chest and spilled from her lips. She could practically see him patting himself on the back as he pushed past her and made himself at home on her couch.
And just like that things were fixed between them.
"Can I stay the night?" He asked later on as they both sleepily stared at the credits rolling on the screen. Her head rested against his chest and his fingers played absently with the ends of her hair. His thumb lazily pressed a button or two on the remote control and the room went dark.
They were both asleep before she could answer.
"You had no right!" Felicity shrieked as she threw open the door to her apartment and stomped away from him.
He stalked after her, slamming the door behind him "Are you kidding me? Seriously?"
She whirled around to face him and almost bounced off his chest. His hand shot out to steady her but she shook him off. His glare deepened as she stepped back.
"He was totally harmless!" She snapped. "He was cute and it was none of your damn business, Oliver!"
Oliver growled. "He had his hand halfway up your skirt, Felicity."
She stomped her foot. "He did not!"
Actually his hand had been about a quarter of the way up her skirt. Semantics. And the fact that the guy thought her name was Ashley because they were on a mission? Details.
"He had his disgusting paws all over you. I can't believe you're making a big deal out of this!" He shot back with a scowl.
"A big deal? You got us kicked out of the club, Oliver! You're just lucky that we'd finished the mission before you broke his jaw!"
He rolled his eyes. "Jerk's lucky I didn't break everything else."
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Whatever, Oliver. It's not your job to defend my honour."
His eyes narrowed and he stepped into her space. "What is that supposed to mean?"
She bit her lip and shrugged. "It means that you're not my boyfriend, Oliver."
A puff of warm air caressed her forehead as he exhaled in surprise. They were silent for a moment. "What if I was?"
Her arms dropped to her sides. What? "Excuse me?"
He exhaled raggedly before stepping even closer. His hand grasped her elbow lightly. "What if I was your boyfriend?"
Her heart was beating erratically against her ribcage. A smile was fighting its way across her lips. "Theoretically?"
He nodded seriously.
"Theoretically it would be okay to punch a guy with his hand up your girlfriend's skirt. Although that's certainly not a good enough reason to date somebody and furthermore I-"
His lips cut off the rest of her words soundly. She froze for just a moment before throwing herself into the kiss. His hands were tangled in her hair as she gripped his shoulders. His tongue slowly teased the entrance of her lips and her mouth opened on a sigh. Their tongues tangled for a moment before the kiss became more frantic. Years of sexual tension descended on them as Oliver's teeth grazed her throat. His hands moved from her hips over her ass, pressing her firmly against him and she shuddered. She placed her palms against his shoulders and shoved him back a step.
His eyes were nearly black and her fingers curled in his dress shirt.
"You should probably stay the night." She told him as she gasped for the air he'd robbed her of.
He didn't need to be told twice.
They made it to her bedroom.
Eventually.
Any thoughts? Thanks for reading!