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.
This is a sequel to my previous 5+1 fic "Like an old married couple". It's follows the events started there so I encourage you to read it first so this makes sense.
I felt that, despite the the fact that "Like an old married couple" was finished and rounded, Oliver still had a lot to say and they still had things to live in the little universe I created for them. I hope you agree and enjoy.
Thank you so much for every follow, favorite, kudos or comment. They really make my day brighter!
I'm so glad I didn't scare you off with the angst chapter, I was quite worried about it because it's not exactly something you find in a pregnancy fic. Now here you have your reward. Something fluffy and mushy to tide you over until Oliver and his angst come back again.
I hope you like this one too.
04 - SLEEPING BEAUTY
He stumbles upon Sara as they descend the stairs after a very long and very tiring evening. If he hadn't caught her by the back of her leather jacket she'd be sprawled over the metal stairs, aggravating her already damaged ribs.
It's surprising to see her so unaware after years of seeing her constantly alert but, just like it's happened with him, she's learning to let go too.
Much more slowly, that's true; she, after all, doesn't have the blessing of having a Felicity Smoak attached to her hip all day. But he's glad to see she's finally getting comfortable enough in this place and with the people inhabiting it to show she's tired and hurt.
He helps her down but the second his eyes find another set of very pretty blue eyes and gleaming blonde hair she's on the backburner.
He lengthens his steps and in five – yes, he counts – he has her enveloped in his arms. Minor contusions and scratches completely forgotten as she burrows her head in the crook of his neck, his hood shielding their heads.
He knows how worried she gets when he's out patrolling even if she mostly doesn't mention it. But it's not like he doesn't know her.
He sees how hard she swallows and the subtle tremble of her fingers as she gives him his comm before he leaves the foundry every night.
He might not be able to see her when she's directing him but he can hear the light strain of her voice in her commands. He might not be able to see her when she's listening to him fight but he can visualize her chewing her bottom lip raw, gasping with his grunts of pain and crying in relief when it's over and he tells her he's alright and returning to her.
That's why he's always done something to reassure her that everything's back to normal when they reunite.
Shoulder squeezing and calming words gave way to hugs and caresses as their relationship progressed and, nowadays, kisses have taken over. And that's exactly what he does, ducking his head low enough that when she instinctively turns towards him their lips brush.
The world is completely obscured and inconsequential as he skims his lips softly upon hers. That's his offer of comfort to her. He's back, he's whole and everything's how it's supposed to be. Her lips always turn harsher on him then, as if seeking more relief and comfort from him.
She nips and suckles and he lets her do whatever she wants to, if that gives her peace of mind he could never oppose.
Sometimes it turns desperate, when her tears wet both their cheeks and he has to hold her tighter as she trembles in his arms.
Sometimes it turns passionate, her short nails scratching roughly; demanding more and more to make sure he's really alive.
Sometimes it turns sweet and she burrows further into him before taking his hand and walking him to the shower.
Sometimes it's just lazy and she lets her kisses loose intensity gradually until their lips are simply grazing, sharing breaths.
Tonight it's one of those nights and he can feel her deflate in his arms, turning into mush, so with a last soft kiss he directs her to her chair.
She rests her head on his stomach and he cannot help but smile, he always likes an affection-seeking Felicity.
He divests of his gloves, letting his fingers run briefly over the nape of her neck to her jaw so he can move her head back a little, just enough to get his leather jacket off him to drape it over her cool shoulders.
She returns to her previous position soon, without a prompt, nuzzling her nose tiredly over his abs and he bites back his chuckle. He can feel that she's more than ready to go to sleep and he's going to make sure that happens before he takes care of Sara's injuries.
He can say without embarrassment he's always been fascinated by Felicity's hair. Always so bouncy and so shiny his fingers itch to touch it. The fact that it's almost constantly restrained just heightens that desire.
He's always liked a challenge. And mysteries, too. And her hair is a mystery because, even after all these years knowing each other, he still doesn't know her natural hair color.
He thinks that's why it's so fascinating to him. It doesn't if it's straightened or curly, in a fancy up do or in her customary ponytail he always wants to free it and run his fingers through the silky strands. Twisting them back and forth looking for a clue about what color it really is.
He hasn't been successful so far, but he's not a quitter and he has the rest of his life to figure it out.
From the moment he could actually touch it without becoming a creep he did exactly that.
He's always the one who takes the elastic off or the pins down and he cards his fingers through it.
It's exquisite. One of his favorite sensations in the world only made better by the soft purring and little moans she lets out when he massages her scalp.
What he's learnt with time it's that's not only amazing for him but for her too. She relaxes to such a point underneath his fingertips she becomes boneless.
He's lost count of the times he's done exactly this to make her overthinking brain stop and conquer her insomnia.
If it's an especially stressful day he'll drive his hands lower until he can ease the knots from her neck and shoulders before caressing her ears and returning back to her scalp. It always works like a charm and he has her asleep within minutes. This time it's not different.
He picks up her limp body gently, tightening his leather jacket around her shoulders, walking her towards the row of cots on the back of the basement.
It's the coldest part of the foundry and she doesn't really like it here, claiming that her hands and feet and ears and nose freeze over, but no matter how many times she complains, he's not going to leave her hunched over her table. It can't possibly be more comfortable.
He's mindful, though, to tuck her underneath two heavy blankets that come way past her ears, feet almost mummified in his effort to keep her warm. He kisses her forehead a few times, lingering, before he lifts the hood of his jacket to protect her further from the cold.
Sara's already fussing around the med bay, getting louder by the second, so he knows he needs to leave her if only not to have her wake up yet; but it's never easy, even less so after the events of three nights ago.
He shudders just remembering but he fights his instinct to curl up around her and steps away. She's safe here. She's going to be near. She's going to be within his eyesight every single second; he's placed her that way consciously. It doesn't stop the spike of terror up his spine.
Sara grunts and hisses and he just knows she's hurt herself further, that's more than enough to shift his focus.
In another time he'd have found the steely hills and valleys of her partially nude body tantalizing and impossible to resist but not now. Not for a long time, actually.
Now he just zeroes in on the expanding mottled flesh around her ribcage, curling upwards to her breasts, as he walks to her.
It's serious, he knows as much, and for a second he really wants to call Diggle and ask him to come but he deserves a night off with his wife and sons.
They've gone through worse – she's gone through worse – they can manage alone.
He approaches her clinically, latex gloves on and syringe at the ready.
No matter how tough she is Sara still looks away from the needle piercing her skin as he extracts the excess of blood in the worse of the bruises easing the pressure on her chest; it never fails to make him smile.
She breathes easier after that and his shoulders loosen a little bit more.
He knows she's going to be out of commission, whether she likes to or not, for a while but as long as no organ is punctured or her muscles are even more torn that they appear – and nothing points that route – she'd be fine.
His fingers find a couple of cracked ribs, but they're not so sunken that he needs to reposition them for them seal up correctly, and another two more that most likely have a hairline fracture, if her hisses are any indication.
He's as gentle as he can while he tapes the restrain over her ribs, but she still bites her lip in pain and her eyes glisten with tears she'd never let fall.
He doesn't want to cause her further pain but he needs to keep going. Once she's patched up he'll pump her with enough painkillers to make a horse collapse.
Her shoulder's stiff and looks a little awkward, but he manages to return it to its original position as quick as possible.
She's stubborn and tries to put a shirt around herself without help but the twists and turns and ups and downs only make pain flare all over her upper body so he takes over, easing her into it and fastening the buttons before putting a sling to prevent further movement on her shoulder.
It's then when he hears it.
He's listened to it in every single tone possible. It's been angry and frustrated. It's been happy and teasing. It's been breathy and passionate. It's even been just like this, sleepy and content. But his heart still flips when she murmurs it in her dreams, impossibly soft, as if she's happy he's there with her even in reveries.
He cannot help but blink quickly, a knot in his throat as he turns to her. She's moved in her sleep, like she always does.
He remembers how he awoke quite a few times during the first time sharing a bed because she kicked or punched him, moving away or towards him hogging all the blankets. He should have expected her to be a restless sleeper, all that contained energy with no outlet during the day only could escape when her subconscious took over.
It was the first and the last time he hasn't held her in their sleep. She seems to calm down a little if any part of him is touching her, so he does. All night long. But that doesn't mean she's stopped moving, just that he can maneuver them better.
He lets her use him as her personal pillow, her head on his chest and leg between his. He lets her turn her back to him so he can spoon her. He lets her move onto her stomach so he can run his fingers up and down her back.
He wakes up with every single movement, taking care of the needs she expresses with the hush of his name in the dark before returning to his dreamland. Tonight is no different; he just makes sure Sara's settled firmly on the metal bed before going to his wife.
She's a tangle of hair and jacket and blankets and he shakes his head in amusement at how adorable she always is no matter what she does.
The blankets take a few tugs before they're free. For a second he believed she'd wake up but she just moves restlessly, nothing a couple of kisses on her freezing nose can't fix. Her hands and feet are cold too, so he stands up to pick up his gym bag.
He'd gladly be her heating pad but he still has a while before he can join her in bed and if he doesn't put an end to this she'll wake up shivering and grumbling. That's why he puts his overly large leather gloves on her hands, fastening them as tight as possible around her slim wrists. Thick clean shocks cover her feet after a quick rub to get them a little warmed up.
Her whole body feels cool so he massages all around, kissing her knees and hips and stomach before zipping his jacket up.
He tucks her even more firmly underneath the blankets and sighs. It'll be to no avail, he knows. He just hopes it's enough until he can come back to her.
Sara's watching him intently when he returns to her side and he just knows what she's thinking. The rumor has only grown louder and louder among their friends thanks to his breakdown and Roy's big mouth.
Felicity hasn't caught up on it yet; she's been worried enough with him to even realize how cautious everyone's with her.
Digg has taken the chivalry to a whole new level. In the last few weeks since he caught them in the bathroom she hasn't opened a single door or carried anything heavier than a folder. He's even switched cars to another one heavier packed with airbags, something that did make her curious but forgot quite easily when the conversation was redirected.
His own sister's changed their own routines in takeout. Long gone are the heavy burgers and greasy Chinese food. They've welcomed vegetables and chicken and fish in their diet. Well, her diet. He already did that.
He never expected her to notice this, though; she's never been picky with food. She likes everything and she'll eat whatever is put in front of her as long as there're no nuts in it. And both he and Thea make sure of that.
Sara's always been very perceptive and caught up really soon so he wasn't surprised when her training sessions turned up lighter. No sparring, no heavy exercise. In fact, they've turned to yoga and not the hardcore yoga he knows Sara favors but the mellow one; the one pregnant women practice to keep their body in shape without endangering the baby and their changing body.
He'd roll his eyes if he wasn't so focused watching his wife bend and stretch, it always manages to effectively distract him.
Roy, for his part, watches her like a hawk in the foundry. She barely stands up now from her chair now.
She needs a sample, he gets it for her. She leaves her tablet in another table, he fetches it for her. She wants a drink, he brings her tea. She frowns at that but she doesn't complain.
He's always conflicted when he sees them fuss around her. It amuses him to no end, even more given that she doesn't realize what's in front of her nose. It never fails to bring him a sense of calm; it eases his mind knowing they care about her – them – enough to do anything in their power to protect their baby. And that's the point of conflict. The baby. Or, more accurately, their fictional baby.
Sometimes he thinks their family and friends are more eager than they are to expand the family.
He knows it'll happen; they've actually had a mature conversation about that. How many children they want to have, how do they want to raise them, how do their lives have to change to adapt to babies, how they believe the other will be the perfect parent picking after the messes the other creates, how the foundry won't be a good place to take their kids to so they'll probably have to relocate their base at some point.
He's even gotten to the point of imagining her pregnant, all maternal glow and heavy belly, and it only made him want to try to get her that way right then and there. So, yes, he wants it. And he wants it soon. But if there's something they have agreed on is that their baby won't be unplanned. Not as most things in their life are.
When they're ready Felicity will get off her birth control and they'll try and try until her doctor tells them they've succeeded. That's what they want and that's what's going to happen, no matter how eager the uncles and aunts of their future baby are to welcome it into the world.
Which is exactly the way Sara's looking at him now. Smirk firmly in place and eyes shining in mirth instead of pain. He's sure she's probably elated to be the first to "know" she's going to be an aunt.
He shakes his head and returns to work, helping her out of her boots and pants so he can take care of the abrasion that completes the set of injuries after her motorcycle accident. She's still smiling when he makes her swallow the painkillers and walks her to a cot adjacent to his and Felicity's.
If she wasn't so wounded he knows she'll need help tomorrow he'd take Felicity and leave, just to escape from the knowing smiles. His wife wouldn't forgive him, though, so he clenches his jaw and glares at her trying in vain to keep her in check.
It his own fault, he's gotten quite attached to Felicity's stomach lately and it isn't helping. But he cannot stop. Just as once upon a time his hands seemed attached to her shoulders now they're doing the same with her stomach.
He doesn't even know what's so fascinating about it, just as he didn't know what was about her shoulders that appealed to him. But it does and he won't fight it.
It's possible he's projecting. Everyone around him is pretty much pressing and when they ride on the car all he sees are babies on the streets.
Moms wrestling angry toddlers into cars. Dads bouncing smiling babies in their arms. Parents walking hand in hand, their kids protected between them.
He squeezes Felicity's hand harder then because he can see them do exactly that. And he cannot wait.
He has to, though. Now is not the best moment, not after the scare they got three days ago. It's rocked them and turned them even more codependent of the other than they previously were, and that's saying something. In fact, if someone's projecting is Felicity.
She's read his neediness for her and made it her own. Tonight's cuddles, kisses and caresses have been exactly that.
He's ached to touch her every single second since he went on patrol with a heavy heart so she gave him what he needed upon returning, no questions asked. Tomorrow she'll realize Sara's injuries and she'll feel so bad for not helping her she'll devote her time to her every whim.
He probably won't have her long for himself, so he hugs her tighter as he takes off the add-ons she won't need any more now that he's by her side.
His name becomes a prayer on her lips and he kisses her; forehead and cheeks, neck and wrists, ankles and hips. His last ones fall on her abdomen, low below her bellybutton, and Sara's eyes burn on his nape but he doesn't care. Tonight he holds his wife as she sleeps and he looks over Sara, he's sure it's going to make good practice for the future.