A/N: Anyone still there?
Soooo, it's not Friday and yet, here I am. I'm sorry for completely neglecting this story for two and a half months. It was stupid to post this story when I did, knowing that I didn't have a lot of free time, but alas, we all make mistakes. I should be back to a more regular updating schedule now. Hopefully, I'll update every (other) Friday. As an apology I give you the longest chapter so far ;)

For now, happy reading and a wonderful Sunday!

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Oliver quickly rummages through his closet, finally coming up with a t-shirt and some shorts, before he reenters his bedroom with long rides, making a beeline towards Felicity.

She's exactly where he left her a couple of minutes ago: sitting unmovingly on the edge of his bed, hands clasped together in her lap, her eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on his carpet.

She's been like this for the past hour, ever since leaving the remains of her house behind and getting into his car. He'd hoped that getting her away from there, away from all the chaos and destruction, would help calm her down. Even though 'calm down' isn't quite the right word. She already is calm. Eerily so. She'd barely said two words since he ushered her into his car. She'd just gone along with whatever he told her to do to get her up into his apartment.

If he's learned anything about this woman in the past year it's that a silent Felicity is a scary Felicity. On occasion she's used the silent treatment on him after he fucked up one way or another, but those times he always knew how to get back in her good graces, worming his way through the thick silent walls she puts up. But this? He can deal with her silence if he's the reason for it, but this time he has no idea how to make things better for her. How he can get his girl back.

He comes to a stop in front of her, cautiously placing his clothes on the bed next to her. He reaches out a hand, slowly grasping her fingers.

"Felicity?" he asks softly.

She slowly lifts her head, tears brimming in her eyes, tearing off another little part of his heart. "Come here," he chokes out and pulls her off the bed and right into his arms.

It takes her only a split second to band her arms around his waist and back, pressing her tiny body into his with a force that is at the edge of actually hurting him. But Oliver doesn't give a fuck, because this is Felicity and he'd endure any kind of pain for her. Her small frame is wrecked by sobs and shuddering breaths as she finally lets all dams break.

Oliver presses his face into her hair, his back and neck are bent at awkward angles, but she's just so freaking small and he just wants to hold her close and give her all the comfort he has to give.

It's countless minutes later when his back's protest finally get too intense to ignore. He lifts Felicity off the ground and turns them around, before sinking to the ground without letting go off her for even a second. There's some awkward repositioning before they're both comfortable, and then Felicity's voice finally breaks the silence.

"It's all gone," she whispers disbelievingly. "Everything is just gone."

"I know," he says with a deep sigh as he frames her face with his large hands, forcing her to look up. "But the important thing is that you weren't home, that you're still around to take more pictures and build more computers and make new memories."

Another tear rolls down her cheek and he quickly wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. "You're still here and you're safe," he whispers, not sure who he's trying to reassure.

She gives him a shaky smile and turns her head and presses a kiss into the palm of his hand. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He swallows hard against the emotions threatening to spill out and pulls her closer into his body instead. "No," he mumbles into her hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

And it's true. Just the mere thought of losing her in any way, imaging a life without Felicity Smoak in it, is more terrifying than anything else. Somehow, in just one short year this woman has managed to become his rock, his confidante, his best friend, and the love of his life.

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When they finally manage to get up from the floor, and she comes out of his bathroom wearing his large t-shirt, she heads straight for his bed. She doesn't have to ask, he doesn't have to offer. By some unspoken agreement, he strips down to his boxer briefs and slips under the covers, while she scoots closer, decimating the space between them, wiggling a little bit until she's comfortable with her cheek pressed to his chest, right over his heart.

He closes his eyes when he hears her shaky exhale, and shivers slightly at the sensation of her hot breath ghosting over his skin. Deep down, he knows that this is torture. Having her pressed into his body, her arms wrapped around him, just like he's dreamed so many times. He knows that it will wreck him, make things so much harder, to know what it feels like to go to sleep with her in his arms and wake up with her tomorrow morning, and then just go back to business as usual. And yet, he can't deny her (or himself, for that matter) this moment of intimate closeness.

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She comes to with a start, her eyes flying open, a sharp inhale of breath rocking her body.

Fire.

Her head whips around, searching her surroundings, only to smack right into something solid and yet soft. It takes her an embarrassingly long time to realize that her lips are pressed into Oliver's chest, her rapid breaths ghosting over his skin.

"You okay?" he asks quietly and she can actually feel his voice rumbling through his chest.

She takes a deep breath and finally shakes her head in disbelief, her nose brushing over his soft skin. "I can't believe that this happened to me. It's so surreal to think that my home and everything is just gone."

Only then she realizes that one of his hands is tracing long lines up and down her spine, the fabric of her, no, his shirt doing absolutely nothing to protect her from the heat emitting from his fingers, seeping into her body and spreading like a wild fire.

Shit, she has to move.

Now, she tells her body. But all it does is give her the proverbial middle finger by melting even further into her best friend's body.

Great job.

His lips land on her temple, brushing a soft kiss against it and she's sure it's meant to be a reassuring gesture, but all it does to her is stoke the fire that is simmering low in her belly. She has to summon all her strength to keep the satisfied sigh from falling from her lips.

"I got you," he murmurs softly.

She believes him.

It's her phone ringing on the bedside table that snaps them out of their moment and she scrambles away from Oliver's all encompassing warmth to reach the offending object.

She can't even say 'hello' before Caitlin's voice rings through the speaker. "Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm fine," Felicity quickly assures her friend. "Can't say the same thing for my house," she adds sadly.

She can hear Caitlin's relieved sigh on the other end and the "Oh my God, I'm so glad" that swiftly follows.

"I was going to stop by your place to see if you were up for breakfast when I was stopped by some firemen at the beginning of your street. They told me about the explosion and I was so scared that something had happened to you," she lets out in a rush.

"I'm okay, Cait. I wasn't even there when it happened, I was out with Oliver last night."

"Thank God," her friend breathes out. "Are you still with him?"

Try as she may, Felicity can't help the color from creeping up her cheeks, even though she knows that Caitlin didn't mean it that way.

"Yeah, I'm at his place."

"Good, he'll take care of you. Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't even know right now," Felicity admits and releases a defeated breath. "When I manage to sort through everything in my head you'll be the first to know."

"Alright, stay positive, Lis, and let me know if I can do anything. Love you."

"Love you, too, Cait, and thank you!" Felicity says gratefully and hangs up.

She lets her body sink back against the pillow that is propped up against the headboard, closing her eyes, trying to escape the images from last night. The smoke in the air, the fire, people crying in each other's arms.

"How's Cait?" Oliver asks quietly.

"Good, she wanted to come by my place this morning and saw that something happened and was worried."

Oliver nods slowly. "Do you, uh, wanna grab a shower while I scramble up some breakfast?" he asks while rolling out of bed and rounding it before he comes to a stop in front of her.

She gives him a small smile. "Yeah, I could do with some pancakes."

The corners of his lips curl up into what has to be her favorite smile. It's not a full blown one, but there's so many different emotions shining from his eyes, the same emotions he always carefully hides from the outside world. It makes her feel so special when he lets her see past all the walls and straight into his heart and soul.

A realization dawns on her then. "But I don't have any clothes," she points out dejectedly, the gravity of her situation hitting her like a brick wall. She stares down into her lap and starts fiddling with the hem of the shirt she's wearing. "As much as I like your t-shirt, I don't think I can pull off this look in a more public setting."

When he doesn't reply immediately she looks up, but instead of meeting her questioning gaze his eyes are following the fabric of his shirt on her down to where it ends on her thighs. There's something hard and almost possessive in his blue eyes that suddenly look much darker than usual. Before she can even begin to analyze his reaction, his eyes snap up to hers and the look is gone, replaced by a sheepish glint.

"I really hope you won't be mad at me for this," he says while stepping closer, holding out his hands for her to take.

Why would she be mad?

She looks at him in confusion but still places her hands in his, letting him pull her up from the bed. When she stands in front of him he opens his mouth to say something, but then thinks better of it and just tugs her along, out of his room and into the guest room opposite of his.

She's crashed in that room countless times after movie nights, too much red wine, or simply being lazy to drive home, but today it definitely looks different.

In front of the bed are two clothes racks filled to the brim with dresses, blouses and skirts in all imaginable colors. On the bed are stacks of neatly folded pants and uhm... underwear?

"Oliver," she starts carefully, fighting very unsuccessfully to hide the blush that is creeping up her cheeks at the sight of the various undergarments. "What is all this?"

Oliver clears his throat and looks at her nervously. "I called Mathieu, Thea's personal shopper, last night and had him put this together. I hope I'm not overstepping."

He does that nervous tick where he rubs his thumb and middle finger together, looking at her with a mixture of nervousness and giddiness.

"So all of this is for me?" she asks to clarify the situation, not quite sure what to make of it yet.

"Yeah," Oliver breathes out and pulls her closer towards the racks. "You can keep it all or look through it and decide what you want and we'll give back the rest."

She lets her free hand slide over the countless dresses and sucks in a breath. "Oliver, these are all designer dresses. They must've cost a fortune. I can't accept this."

Oliver's insistent tug on her hand is all it takes for her to turn her back on the rack. "Yes, you can accept this. And I don't care how much it cost, as long as you have one less thing to worry about. Let me do this to help you, please."

Felicity sighs and shakes her head. "You already let me stay here last night, which reminds me that I need to book a hotel. That's more than I could've ever asked of you."

As soon as the words leave her mouth she knows that he's going to fight her on this if his frown is anything to go by. Just as he opens his mouth, another voice chimes from the door.

"Smoaky, you can always stay at my place if this guy is getting on your nerves," Tommy says with a knowing grin as he eats up the distance between the doorway and where they're standing, and sweeps Felicity up in a tight hug.

She relaxes immediately in his arms and lets go of Oliver's hand to wrap her arms around Tommy's back. "Thank you," she mumbles into his sweater.

"Tommy," Oliver greets his best friend, even though there's a tension in his voice that wasn't there before.

"Oliver," Tommy mimics him and makes Felicity chuckle softly at his antics.

"She's gonna stay here with me," he grinds out.

She steps out of the embrace and is about to give him an earful when Tommy beats her to the punch.

"I think she should know that she has an option that isn't you," he challenges.

"Okay, both of you, she is standing right here and will make her own decision, so stop acting like cavemen," she chides, annoyed that she seems to have this discussion with Oliver about others making decisions for her over and over again. He of all people should know how much it irks her.

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Roughly one year ago

She's not sure what she expected to happen on her first day back after her trip to Gotham and the subsequent promotion to Vice President, but being intercepted at the security check by a guy named Gerry only to be led to the executive elevator and brought up to the top floor of the building definitely wasn't on the list.

She's never actually been on this floor before today. Sad, really, if you think about it. But nevertheless true.

From the elevator Gerry leads her towards the end of the hall that houses a desk. They take a sharp left turn and enter one of two very spacious offices on the floor. She looks around in awe. Taking in the dark marble floor, the sleek desk and sitting area, the floor length windows on two sides and glass walls on the other two. And then her eyes zero in on the name plate on the desk.

Felicity Smoak
Vice President

Holy shit.

Her head whips around to face Gerry who's smiling at her cheerfully. Clearly he'll be of absolutely no help in clearing this up.

She takes a deep breath, swallowing most of her hysteria. "Where would I find Mr. Queen?"

Gerry stretches out a hand towards the open glass door. "Right across the hall, Ms. Smoak. Shall I check if he has time for you?"

She gapes at him for a moment. Of course! They're on the freaking top floor of QC's headquarter, of course the CEO would have his office up here. And so does she, apparently.

She shakes herself out of her stupor and storms past Gerry, across the hall and straight into Oliver's office.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demands, trying to catch her breath. Do they have to make executive offices so darn big? She'll have to go back to the gym if this is her life from now on.

He looks up from his computer, a confused frown on his face. "Checking emails?" he says carefully.

"No, I mean giving me an office on this floor!"

"Uh, you're welcome?" He shoots back, confusion turning into irritation.

"Welcome? Welcome?" She asks disbelievingly, placing both hands firmly on his desk and leaning forward, glaring down at him. "Like the sudden promotion from the IT dungeon to Vice President isn't enough, you're giving me an office on your floor? Do you have any idea what everybody is going to say about how I got that promotion and what exactly it is we're doing up here. Or rather what I'll be doing for you… while I'm on my hands and knees. To them I'll be nothing more than Vice President of Debauchery and Temptation, and your newest plaything."

He stands up so quickly that she doesn't even have time to flinch when his chair hits the wall behind him or when he slams down his hands on the desk, mimicking her stance on his side of the table. "That's enough," he growls at her, eyes ablaze with barely contained anger. "You'd do well to remember that, promotion or not, I'm still your boss and you will address me with the respect I deserve, Ms. Smoak."

Shit.

He really has a point there.

She keeps glaring at him, trying to come up with a response. She comes up empty.

"Where the hell did you find this firecracker?" A smug voice comes from behind her.

"Fuck off, Tommy," Oliver barks without even averting his eyes from hers.

She holds his intense gaze for a few more seconds before curiosity wins and she turns around. Leaning against the door frame is none other than Tommy Merlyn if her memory of the tabloids in her hair salon serves her right.

"Woah, and she looks like a bombshell, too. Seriously, man, where did you find her and does she have a sister? Preferably an identical twin?" Despite the lewd words, she can hear the amusement and challenge in his voice. He stalks over to her and holds out his hand. "But seriously, hi, I'm Tommy. I'm this knucklehead's best friend, so if you ever need embarrassing stories about him, just call me," he says and produces a business card out of thin air in his left hand.

She shakes his hand and warily takes the business card from him, not quite able to process the ridiculousness of the situation.

He leans closer to her and fake whispers, "You can call me any time, though. Coffee, dinner, booty call, I'm all yours."

"Get out, Tommy," Oliver grumbles.

Tommy gives her one last cheeky grin and winks at her before stepping away, leaving them in an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry," they blurt out at the same time.

"May I?" she asks and he motions for her to go on. "I'm sorry for speaking to you in that manner, Mr. Queen. It was unprofessional and I was out of line. I apologize."

He nods slowly. "Can I ask if it's really just the office that is bothering you or if there's something else going on?"

She breathes out a sigh, angry tension leaving her body. "It's just," she fumbles for the right words. "It surprised me, I guess."

"And?" he prompts gently, motioning for her to sit down.

She hesitates for a second, trying to sort through the jumbled mess that is her mind right now. There's something about the way he looks at her, his blue eyes intense and tinged with honest curiosity, that makes her continue.

"And…over the weekend I finally had some time to think about everything that happened in Gotham and what that means for my future." Once again she fumbles for words. "I mean this is huge. Being a VP at just 25 in one of the biggest companies in the country is amazing and unbelievable and just a dream come true. And I'm so grateful for being given the opportunity to do what I love and for you putting your trust in me," she rushes out, feeling the hysteria from before seep back into her body.

"Breathe, Felicity," Oliver tells her softly, and just the way her name falls from his lips in an almost whisper is enough to calm her down.

She swallows before she finds her voice again. "But it's also overwhelming and I'm scared that I'll screw up somehow and disappoint you and the trust you have in my abilities. Which is ridiculous really. You only know me on paper and that got me thinking if maybe your decision to promote me was just a knee jerk reaction to Wayne Enterprises trying to snatch me away."

He tilts his head a little bit and regards her intently. "In a way it was, I guess," he admits, catching her off guard.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, until I met you on that plane I didn't even know you worked here, let alone what a genius you are. And it's also true that I don't like Wayne snatching anybody from my company, but the reason I offered you that promotion is solely based on your talents and your value to this company."

She blushes at that. How can she not? Here she is mid-freak out, being talked down and complimented by none other than Oliver Queen himself.

"I'd like to think that I have some pretty decent insight into human nature. Reading people and forming quick opinions about them is part of my job. I need to know what kind of a person I'm dealing with before I can make a decision whether I wanna go into business with them or not," he continues calmly. "When I met you I saw and experienced kindness and… happiness. There's just something about you."

By the way he bows his head for a second and closes his eyes, she knows that he didn't mean for that last part to slip out. She decides to let it slide for now.

He takes a deep breath. "Point is you deserve to be here and I don't expect you to do everything perfectly from the get-go. Leadership positions like this aren't ones that you can read up on and perfect within seconds. It takes time and patience to do this work right and you will make mistakes. Lord knows I've made a few. But you just have to keep going and learn from those mistakes. That's what will make you a good leader."

She processes his words, letting them sink in. She hopes that he's right, that at some point she'll feel comfortable in this position and not like she's intruding the big boys club.

"Thank you, Mr. Queen, I really appreciate your advice and the encouraging," she says finally, meaning every word.

"I'm glad to help in any way I can. Now about the office. I read in you file that during the time you were under my father's guidance, you had access to a workshop of sorts with separate servers and some computer stuff I didn't understand one word of. I though that you could turn the conference room adjacent to your office into your own work shop, equip it with everything you might need, so you can have everything in one place without having to travel down to the IT department every time."

Wow. She tries really hard not to gape at him, but fails spectacularly.

She hadn't thought that her morning could possibly become any more surreal and then Oliver Queen had struck again. Having access to that work shop had been one of the many perks of being one of Robert Queen chosen ones. She'd spent countless hours in that room. Writing code and tinkering with hardware had been her favorite past times. In the work shop she'd been able to let her ideas flow freely, try out whatever she wanted and not have to worry about the prying eyes of her supervisor or co-workers.

"I don't know what to say," she stammers out in response. "It's still you mother's old office. That's really big and presumably high-heeled shoes to fill."

He smiles at her wildly. "Nobody's asking you to replace her. Like, seriously, don't even try to do that. Ever since I took over the company she was more like a stern and disapproving babysitter that criticized every move I made."

Felicity huffs out a chuckle. "Sounds like a handful."

"You have no idea. She kept ties in her desk. When she didn't like the tie I was wearing she'd make me put on one of those."

She can't contain the disbelieving laugh that escapes her mouth at the thought of her boss being chided by his mother for his choice of wardrobe and being forced to switch ties.

His answering smile is breathtaking but it's only there for a few seconds before his face sobers and his features take on a more serious look. "I'm sorry for just springing this on you, though. I should've talked to you about it instead of presenting you with a fait accompli. I'll try to be better in the future."

She smiles gratefully at him. "I appreciate that a lot."

"Mr. Queen, you have a meeting in five minutes," sounds a woman's voice from the entrance.

"Thanks, Martha. I'm almost finished here," Oliver replies curtly and turns his attention back to Felicity. "You can make a list of things you'd like for your office and of the specifications for your work shop and give it to your assistant. He'll get you anything you need."

"My assistant?" Yup, that's a phrase she never thought she'd say.

"Yeah, Gerry. The guy that brought you up here?"

"He's my assistant?"

"Believe me, you'll need him," Oliver assures her with a wink. "I'd be lost without Martha."

"Right," she says slowly, still unable to wrap her head around the fact that she has an assistant. What is even happening right now? She clears her throat and gets up then. "Well, I'll let you get to your meeting then. Thank you for everything and again, I'm very sorry for talking to you like I did earlier."

He stands, too, automatically buttoning his jacket as he stands, looking as dashing as ever. "Well, we could explore our new-found peace at Big Belly Burger at lunch if you'd like to join me? You could tell me about any ideas you have."

"That sounds good. How about I'll have my assistant call your assistant to see what time works best. Oh my god, I can't believe I just said that."

He beams at her. "Sounds perfect to me."

She turns to leave and makes it all the way to the door before Oliver calls out her name. "Don't worry about any rumors. Anyone with half a brain should be able to see that you've earned the right to be here and I won't have anyone doubt you."

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From that day on every fight they've had, big or small, had always made them stronger. Had solidified their friendship and the bond that they have.

"Can you please give us a minute, Tommy?" It's Oliver's voice that breaks her out of her thoughts.

She sees Tommy nod and leave the room after a quick glance at her to make sure she's okay.

"I'm sorry," Oliver says quietly as soon as his best friend has left. "I know you hate it when someone else makes a decision on your behalf. I was reacting without thinking and I'm sorry for that."

She can tell that he's holding something back. His eyes are flitting around and he's doing that nervous tick with his fingers again. So she does the one thing that she knows will make him relax. She steps up to him, completely disregarding his personal space and wrapping her arms around him, pulling herself flush against his body.

It does the trick. It always does. His body relaxes as his hands automatically find her back and pull her just a little bit closer.

Somehow they've always been very physical in their friendship. The simple touch of a hand, the gentle squeeze of fingers, a warm hug. In a way, she feels like even the simplest touch from him is grounding her, helping her take a breath and relax. Apparently she has the same effect on him.

"I know it's selfish," he mutters into her hair. "But I need you close. I need to know that you're okay. Just thinking about what could've happened to you if you'd been home is so incredibly terrifying."

Her heart melts a little at his admission. It's not that she doesn't want to be here with him, it's just that she knows she'll fall even harder for him if she stays so close to him. How will she ever be able to leave when she already feels like there's nothing better in this world than waking up next to him in the morning?

"This is the only way I know how to help you right now," he mumbles, flexing his fingers against her spine. "Please, Felicity," he pleads with her, so many emotions in his voice that it's almost too much to handle.

"Okay," she says, because honestly, what else is she supposed to say to him? She just hopes that her heart can take the hit.

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A/N: Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter and on your theories what will happen next!