Disclaimer: Arrow belongs to the CW, Greg Berlanti, Marc Guggenheim, Andrew Kreisber and DC Comics. Any recognizable character belongs to them and I'm just borrowing them for fun.
AN: My native language isn't English so all the mistakes are mine and mine alone as I don't have a beta. If you spot any, please let me know so I can correct them as fast as possible.
I hope you enjoy.
03 - UNDERCOVER WIFE
She shouldn't be here. He doesn't want her to be here. In fact, he wants her as far from here as possible. But no, she's right by his side throwing her head back slightly as she laughs at whatever stupid thing their companion has blurted out.
On any other time her merriment would paint a smile on his lips but not today. Today he just grips her hip harder, feeling the material of her dress crinkle underneath his fingertips. It doesn't matter, though. As it doesn't matter how close he gets her to him or how watched he knows she is by their team, he knows she's just bidding her time in the ballroom before he has to watch her disappear on the corridor and work her magic for him, for his cause. If something happened to her because of him, he'd never be able to live with himself.
His grip must be getting painful, or maybe his face is showing much more of his inner turmoil than he'd like, because she's suddenly turning to him enveloping him in her arms. They are not strong arms or even that coordinated at times but they sure are comforting and safe and he has to fight the urge to wrap himself even further in them until he's completely flush with her front and he cannot feel anything but her. Of course, it'd be much more preferable if they could be doing just that far away from prying eyes and danger.
He knows her words are meant to be reassuring but they really aren't. She cannot be sure that everything will be fine, that she'd be alright. Because the few times she's been out of the foundry in a mission have been far from fine and she hasn't been alright during or afterwards. And, this time, is looking more and more to be another one of those very close calls. A lot of things can go wrong in a second and he's going be far enough away from her that he won't be able to get to her fast enough to protect her.
The tightening of his gut is not new but he's sure he won't ever get used to it. In fact, he doesn't want to. He wants to be fearful and terrified and worried and angry and frustrated and proud of her every time she manages to convince him to be in the field. It means he's not taking her and her safety for granted. It means he'd do anything to keep her safe, alive and, hopefully, uninjured. It doesn't mean he enjoys this agony because, surely, waiting's the worst. The anticipation and his very active imagination are his worst enemies in these moments.
A sparkle catches his eye and his breath freezes in his lungs for a second breaking his train of thought. He forgot about them. He knew they were there; he put them there, actually. But he just forgot their existence until they've made themselves known once more. He knows they were there but it doesn't make the sight any less surprising or… right, for a lack of a better word. It's even more awing seeing the contrast they make against his dark tux. Just the distraction he needed.
He blinks slowly and deliberately before raising his eyes to hers, watching the very same thing he has with what he can only believe to be his same startled and soft expression. Now, more than ever, he knows they should talk, explore whatever it is between them and be grow ups. The thing is this is the worst place and time for this to happen and the second they're pulled from this revelry they're going to bury their head in the sand like they've been doing for years now, they're both pros at that. So he sighs and tugs her closer to him as he walks them backwards towards the dance floor. If this moment isn't going to last into tomorrow he's going to get as much of it as he can before going back to normal.
The glinting disappears the moment her hand curves over his shoulder but it doesn't help one bit because, in their traditional waltz stand, his left hand is sporting a ring matching her own and it's so very, very distracting; perhaps even more than seeing her set on her hand.
They're all part of the strategy, he's sure that's why Digg suggested them even if he was smirking like a mad man and Sara and Roy laughed at his gaping mouth and Felicity's sudden choking on nothing but air. For all intents and purposes they are married to the world. There's not a certificate and neither one have confirmed anything to the press, but they haven't deny it either and that seems to be most important thing in the whole matter. If they'd have done something in the first place none of this would have happened but he saw a chance to get people even further from the scent of the truth as possible and he took it; moreover, he convinced Felicity to take it with him.
Up until now he'd been enjoying the perks of their fake marriage but it all stops being fun and games when your whole team - fictitious wife leading the march - gang up on you using the very thing you saw as your way to protect everything in your life against you.
He got sick of the 'fighting like an old married couple' pretty soon in the collective arguments and even stormed a couple of times on all of them when this stupid plan was brought up to him. They fought, they yelled and he hatched a half-assed plan that almost cost him his life. Bringing even more yelling and fighting to his life until Felicity squared her shoulders and told him in no uncertain terms that she was doing this with or without him. Without him wasn't an option, never was and even less so since Tockman happened. So it has to be with him.
That's why he's here, her arms now wrapped snuggly around his neck and his hands settled in the small of her back, listening to reassurances on a loop on his ear while song after song sounds in the background.
When the comms in their ears crackle to life he knows it's time and he cannot help but stiffen, trapping her in his arms, but her hand is in his face now and the metal of the rings is enough to put him somewhat at ease until watching her retreating back obliterates it and swaps it with dread.
He doesn't know how much time it passes, his mind isn't even sharp enough to monitor it, but he knows it's not enough for him to storm after her because nobody else is alarmed by her absence. It's simply him but that's not exactly reassuring.
Despite his state people are still coming to him for a chat, a shake of his hand, a congratulations for his recent nuptials and he doesn't know if he's functioning like a human being or not but nobody frowns upon him and everybody leaves as quickly as they came.
He can hear her in his ear now, muttering the words he'd been waiting for in these infernal unnumbered minutes. It shouldn't take much longer now. In fact, she should be with him by the ten minute mark - as the plan she carefully made said so - so as not to arouse suspicion. Women can get away with longer trips to the bathroom than men but, even so, if she doesn't hurry he'd start being questioned. Even more than he's already been, that is.
She's been the start of the party, much to her chagrin and embarrassment and his pride and amusement. Everybody wanted to see and speak with the one woman able to tame and catch Oliver Queen. Of course, it didn't take her long to charm the pants off most of the people in the room and they've been barely left alone for a few seconds before someone claims her. He can already see from the corner of his eye the elderly Mrs. Greenwald coming his way once more, most likely to get a few more wine recommendations from Felicity before she leaves, so he knows it's time. But she doesn't appear.
His watch tells him it's been eleven minutes since he's last seen her and nothing and no one is going to stop him from going after her, injury and consequences be damned.
He pulls his cellphone quickly from his inside breast pocket, fingers shacking slightly over the icon of the special app Felicity's created and that monitors the tracking devices present in all of them since their last fight with Slade Wilson. He knows where each and every tracking device is in each member of his team, but only Felicity's new one make his heart flip, and now, more than ever, he just wants her by his side, safe and sound.
The sudden pinging almost startles him, his eyes locating quickly her silver dot in the digital blueprint of the mansion they're partying at. She's close, very close actually; he just has to get out of the ballroom and turn left in the corridor beside it and she should appear right in front of him. Her distress signal hasn't been activated so he rationally knows she must be fine but that doesn't stop him from lengthening his stride.
For just a second he stands completely still, soaking up in the scene before him, but her sharp words propel him forward. He can feel the exact second when she finally acknowledges his presence because her shoulders sag and her breath softly stutters from her lips and, if he were to lose control, this could be the moment where he sends everything to hell and gives in. He could gather her in his arm and kiss her senseless but the stupid and drunken man in front of her is bursting his relieved bubble by talking and getting closer to her and that's not ok with him.
In fact, he's stupid enough to try and pick a fight with him when he puts himself in front of Felicity, blocking her from view. If he wasn't so hung strung as he is right now he'd probably laugh in his face but now he merely narrows his eyes and steps menacingly to him. It's only her hand, the same hand that sports his rings, that stops him.
He'd have gladly broken his jaw or his nose or something for having the audacity to come at her, to keep her from coming to him, but despite their line of work Felicity abhors violence and he's the one who'll get lectured and yelled at when they get home so it's not worth it. Instead he hissed to the other man to leave with enough venom in his voice he actually gets the threat in his words and scrambles off before he crushes her to his chest, feeling the damp stain in her dress transfer to his dress shirt and the smell of hard liquor surround them. But she's warm and fine so he doesn't care, he just keeps hugging her until the comms crackle once more and he knows they must part. One last appearance in the party to make an excuse and be on their merry little way to the foundry for more work.
When they reappear, his arm wrapped around her waist and her waddled into his suit jacket, nobody comments about it, they just say their goodbyes with thinly veiled innuendoes creeping behind them making Felicity's cheeks flame up and his lips twitch.
He should probably be bothered that this people feel his cavalier attitude of youth is making a comeback but he can't for the life of him care because, for once, the whispers he hears behind his back are flattering instead of demeaning. How could they not when they speak how good of a husband he seems to make? How could they not when they murmur Felicity's name with the same adoration he feels? How could they not when they are deemed the most devoted couple they've seen in years? God forgive him, how could they not when they say how plain is to see they're hopelessly in love with one another?
As they walk back to the car, back to their team and the real life where they are not really married and their paths part away, he just grips her hand harder, letting his thumb brush over the rings that've saved her and he vows to keep them right where they are.
It'd be a while yet before either one of them is remotely ready to talk about what this closeness between them means and even further along the way is the possibility of a romantic involvement. He knows it'd come, has known for quite a while now, but neither is ready yet. What they're ready for, though, is to keep maintaining this charade and the rings are the perfect way to do that. Now, if only could he convince her without her usual freak out.
