Between Love and Skate 7/?
Author: dettiot
Rating: T
Summary: After an injury ends his chances for a career in professional hockey, Oliver Queen doesn't know what he's going to do. And then he gets an offer to become a figure skater and partner with a beautiful, babbling blonde skater: Felicity Smoak. With a gold medal at the Olympics on the line, can love stick its landing?Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: Lots going on in this chapter! But this one is going to set up the ending of the fic, which I think will be soon! But until then, I hope you enjoy today's piece of the story.

XXX

Even with the pressure and worry of competing in the Olympics, Oliver looked forward to the Opening Ceremonies. Marching with the rest of the hockey team was one of his best memories of four years ago-one of the few memories from before that hadn't been tainted by his injury. Because it was a time when he felt like he was part of something bigger than himself, because he was representing his country.

So after finding out that Felicity had never participated in the Opening Ceremonies and didn't intend to do so this time either, Oliver wasn't going to let her miss out. Things might still be weird between them, unsettled and full of unspoken words. But he thought, after their moment in the physical therapy room, that there was hope. And Felicity had said she wanted experiences. Admittedly, it was experiences she had missed out on because she was competing in the Olympics, like college and one-night stands. But still, he was damned if she didn't get to have one of the best parts of being an Olympian.

Taking a deep breath and adjusting his grip on the duffle bag he was carrying, Oliver knocked on the door to Felicity's room. All of them were staying in a house just outside Pyeonchang-no Olympic Village for Felicity, her parents had said, which was another one of Oliver's good memories from the last Games. But he hadn't argued too much about staying in luxury accommodations, instead of in a room that wasn't much better than his college dorm.

Felicity opened the door and her eyes went wide at the sight of him. "Oliver . . . what are you wearing?"

"The Opening Ceremonies costume for Team USA," he said, hoping he sounded cheerful and friendly. Wanting Felicity to see this as a truce. A break from how they had been since Nationals. "I think the cowboy hat suits me, don't you?"

The costume for this Olympics was Western-inspired, which Oliver couldn't help enjoying. Black boots, white snow pants with red trim, a thick navy blue parka, the obligatory stars-and-stripes scarf, all topped off with a white cowboy hat and with plenty of other American flag accessories.

Her face was unreadable for a moment, but then, she cracked. The giggle that escaped her lips was so free and easy, it made Oliver's heart beat faster even as he grinned at her. Because it was like old times.

"Thanks, little lady," he joked, tipping the hat to her and getting another giggle. "Now I can't wait to see you in it."

A wrinkle creased her forehead. "What?"

Oliver lifted up the duffle. "Here's yours. I picked it up for you earlier today-I called your mom and she helped me with the sizes."

"Oh, Oliver-I'm not going, I told you that . . ."

"You did," Oliver agreed. "But you should go. And I'm not leaving here until you put on this silly uniform and come with me."

She opened her mouth and suddenly Oliver lost all the courage that brought him here. And he felt a flicker of anger towards Felicity, for being so infuriatingly important to him.

He held the duffle out to her, all but shoving it into her arms. "There's a car coming to take me to the venue in fifteen minutes. Come, don't come-it's up to you."

Turning around, he left, heading to the foyer to wait. And the longer he waited, the more he felt like an idiot. They've barely talked about anything other than skating ever since Nationals, and he thought she would want to come to the Opening Ceremonies with him? Spend hours and hours together?

There had to be a day when he will figure himself out, right? When he'll understand why he kept hoping when it came to Felicity, even when it seemed like he should just give up and try to get over this.

The car had just pulled up and Oliver was buttoning up his coat-which frankly was pretty nice, at least-when there's a pounding of feet coming down the stairs. "Oliver, wait!"

It was Felicity. Felicity, running up to him with her coat over her arm, the cowboy hat crooked on her head and her scarf nearly falling off her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a nervous, uncertain smile on her face. "Excuse me, I understood there was a car to the Opening Ceremonies?"

When he doesn't say anything because he was too busy staring at her, her smile got a bit trembly. But she straightened her shoulders and looked right at him. "I think the hat looks better on me."

He couldn't help it-he laughed, a loud bark that made her eyes go wide. Then she grinned at him and imitated how he had tipped his hat to her.

And suddenly everything was right in the world and he can't believe that he's so lucky to have her with him.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing her hand. "Let's go."

XXX

Now that they're here in Pyeonchang, Digg has eased back on practice. "You know the routine and you know what you need to do to complete the Diggle." Their coach was always a bit sheepish when referring to the move he created.

Oliver wasn't so sure. They've only come close to landing the move a handful of times in practice-but close won't be enough in competition. To his surprise, though, Felicity agreed with Digg.

"At this point, we need to turn our brains off and let our subconscious work with our bodies." Her cheeks went a bit pink as she tightened the band holding her ponytail. "Our minds just get in the way."

There's something about Felicity's words, some hidden feeling or meaning behind them. Something that made them become lodged in his mind. Over the next two days of press, easy practices, and even taking in a few events, he kept turning them over. Not even sure why, but it was all he thought about. Which was ironic, he guessed.

At least things with Felicity had gotten easier. A little bit. Their night at the Opening Ceremonies let them finally get past the awkwardness of what happened after Nationals. And with having so much free time, they can interact with each other and talk about things other than skating. They can just spend time together. There's a night of watching movies at the house, sharing the couch as Felicity gently teases him about his bad movie choices. There's an afternoon watching speed skating, Oliver joking that Felicity should have done that discipline instead of pairs.

But on the downside . . . spending time with Felicity brought all those feelings flooding back. After weeks of barely noticing her, or worrying about her physical state too much to appreciate how beautiful she was, now he's hyper-aware of her. The brush of her fingers against his when she passed him popcorn made his whole body sing. Having her move in a bit closer to him for body warmth inside the chilly speed skating venue-it was all he can do not to wrap his arm around her.

It felt different from before, though. There was plenty of lust before Nationals. And he was still turned on by the things that were very Felicity: the bright colors, the glasses when she wasn't skating. But now, even his most lust-filled thoughts were tempered with an almost overwhelming tenderness. A need to keep her safe, while wanting to kiss her until they're both breathless.

Oliver knew that soon, he wouldn't be able to keep this in anymore. He's kind of shocked he hadn't blurted it out already. Felicity, you're beautiful and smart and funny and sweet and I am so fucking crazy about you, I can't see straight.

Yeah, that was what girls dreamed of hearing.

There were only a few more days. They would be performing their short program tomorrow and the long program the day after. Then probably a day or two to wrap everything up and then . . . then he could really think about this. Once he knew if they were Olympic gold medalists or not. Once he knew if he was worthy of her.

But achieving a gold medal would be tough. Oliver had trusted Digg when he had said that Rochev and Wilson were their biggest competition and the frontrunners for gold. But once he saw them in action during the first practice session . . . he realized Digg had been underplaying it.

Isabel Rochev was a tiny, imposing brunette with the best resting bitch face Oliver had ever seen. Slade Wilson, who had given up his Australian citizenship to skate with Rochev for Russia, was a powerful yet graceful skater. Together, they were all speed and power and attitude. The videos Digg had shown them online didn't do Rochev and Wilson justice. Seeing them in person gave you the whole story.

They were great skaters but lousy partners. Because it was clear in the practice session that neither of them gave a damn about the other. At one point, Rochev nearly tripped Wilson in order to reach the boards first, where their coach was waiting for them. In another case, Wilson let Rochev land heavily from a lift, and when she glared at him, he had only smirked. "If you did your job, sweetheart, you wouldn't have landed so hard."

It had to count for something, right? The lack of a bond could be reflected in the grade of execution, perhaps. Oliver didn't know. In spite of Digg's efforts to explain scoring to him, he had never been able to grasp it. He just knew that he and Felicity had something special together. The last five weeks of endless practice meant that now, he knew what Felicity was thinking and feeling when they were on the ice. From slight tenses of her hips to flutters in her fingers, there was no doubt in his mind that they were a pair, not two separate individuals skating together.

That was what he thought, until the night of their short program.

XXX

The moment he woke up on the day of the short program, Oliver felt a weight on his chest. He was already certain that today would pass even slower than the day of their Nationals long program had.

It was still early, but he wanted some coffee, so he headed to the kitchen, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, thanks to the overeager heating in the house. To his surprise, Felicity was already there, sipping her own coffee. She gave him a small smile and gestured towards the coffee maker.

"I just made a pot."

"Thank God," he said, giving her a grin. Filling a mug, he sat down across from her at the table and they shared silent smiles, both recognizing their nerves. They sat alone, sipping coffee, until Felicity plunked down her mug.

"I'm going to make breakfast for everyone. You want to help?"

Even though Oliver could barely cook, he agreed quickly. Anything to pass the time. And perhaps he just liked the idea of moving around the kitchen together, sharing something so normal and ordinary.

As they attempted to make breakfast, Oliver felt that weight in his chest lift the slightest bit. Maybe things weren't as difficult as he thought they were. After all, he was a hockey player who had managed to become a good enough figure skater that he was competing in the Olympics. What was more of a long shot than that?

He glanced over at Felicity as he waited for the bread to come out of the toaster. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she scrambled some eggs, poking at the pan with a spatula. She looked down at her tablet, pushed up her glasses, looked at the pan, and smiled proudly. Like she knew what she was doing and felt good about it.

It was just so Felicity that he couldn't help a smile from appearing on his face Just like he couldn't help wanting to be close to her. But giving in to that urge would be a bad idea.

But he could go over and check on the eggs, couldn't he?

Slowly, moving carefully, Oliver stepped up behind Felicity. "Those look great," he said, leaning down just a little and looking over her shoulder down at the pan.

She jumped a little, brushing back against him-he was closer than he thought. "Oliver!" she said, looking up at him with wide eyes behind her glasses.

"What? I wanted to check on the eggs, since you said you'd never made them before," Oliver said, savoring being this close to Felicity without figure skates being involved, while wondering where he had gotten the courage to do so.

Her face was flushed, but when she spoke, he knew she was trying to sound unaffected. "The Internet can tell you how to do anything. Cook scrambled eggs, dye your hair . . . anything."

"Hmm," he said softly, gazing at her. "I'll keep that in mind. Although I think there are some things you can't research-you just have to do them."

They had never talked about what happened the last night of Nationals. With the morning after they had experienced, there had never been a way to talk about what she had said, what he had done. They had just tried to move on without talking about it. He had assumed she was too embarrassed to talk about it and he wasn't ready to explain his actions to her. Like the way he had flirted with her, even though he had been less drunk than she was. There was no sign that she really felt anything like he felt, he thought. Her actions that night fit in with her fantasy of picking up a hot guy and taking him home.

But now he was changing his mind. Because Felicity's eyes flicked down to his lips for a moment, and the expression on her face, in her eyes, wasn't embarrassment. No, it was longing.

Holy shit. Did Felicity regret not kissing him? Because that meant she wanted to kiss him now, when they were making breakfast the day that they would be performing in the Olympics.

She didn't want a fantasy hot guy. She wanted him.

It was all so overwhelming and intimidating and a thousand other emotions. Because he had spent months thinking about her, trying to figure out just what existed between them, and he felt like he had just put a really big piece of the puzzle into place, but the picture wasn't what he was expecting-and the puzzle was still incomplete.

After the Olympics. That was when he was supposed to figure this out. When a gold medal wasn't on the line-when he would know if he had let her down or not. Because if he hadn't been good enough, he would just go away and find a way to deal with what he was feeling. And if they did win gold . . . maybe then he would feel like he could tell her how much he wanted something more with her.

Oliver didn't know how long they had been standing there, Felicity trapped between himself and the stove, as they looked at each other. But it was definitely long enough to burn the eggs. Neither of them noticed until the smoke detector started chirping and Donna came into the kitchen, asking about the strange odor.

Then the moment was over and they had to pull away. And in the hustle of turning off the smoke detector and cleaning up the burned eggs and finishing breakfast for everyone, something changed.

For the rest of the day, Oliver tried to find the words to explain himself to Felicity. But he couldn't. And it didn't help that Felicity laid low after breakfast. The longer she was out of sight, the more his spirits sank. And when she finally appeared when it was time to head over to the arena, he couldn't help having a bad feeling.

XXX

He's thrown up twice, which has never happened before. Oliver was pretty sure once was about skating and once was about Felicity, but he doesn't feel better after either purging. Rolling his shoulders, he left the locker room and went looking for Felicity.

As he expected, she's stretching, getting her limbs loose, creating the appearance that she was taller and leaner than she really is. Although Oliver is pretty sure she's physically perfect. Long legs for her height, an ass that won't quit, breasts that-

What the fuck?

Giving his head a shake, Oliver made himself focus. The Diggle was the highlight of their long program and the hardest move they had ever attempted. But that wasn't to say their short program was a cakewalk. Digg had worked with them to upgrade a few elements, so he couldn't be distracted like this and perform his best.

Felicity was really in the zone. She didn't even have her earbuds in, but it was like she was in another world. She was concentrating so hard that she didn't even acknowledge Oliver when he started stretching beside her.

After twenty minutes, though, he was starting to get concerned. This seemed like more than just focus. It's like she was avoiding him. Keeping him at arm's length. Like she did sometimes with her other partners. Got distant and remote, closed herself off and stayed in her head.

And Oliver knew why. It was because of this morning. Because he was stupid and made a move on her when he wouldn't follow through on it, and now he doesn't know what she's thinking. But it can't be good if she's acting like this.

"Felicity," he said, but she doesn't say anything back. Doesn't respond at all. "Felicity?" he repeated, reaching out to touch her arm.

She startled, blinking at him. "What, Oliver?"

He was opening his mouth to ask if she was okay, to apologize for what happened this morning, to tell her that she could tell him whatever was bothering her. But then an announcement went out over the backstage public address system: "Next to skate, Smoak/Queen, USA."

"We've got to go," Felicity said, standing up and shedding her warm up jacket. Without another word, she headed towards the entrance to the ice. Oliver followed her, feeling like he could possibly throw up for a third time.

Once they're on the ice, Felicity pasted a smile on her face. But Oliver knows it wasn't a real one. Her eyes don't have any sparkle, there's no excitement in her expression. Hell, right now he'd take a Felicity who was freaking out from nerves or spitting with anger about this morning. Anything other than this Felicity.

It wasn't until they take their starting positions that he realized neither of them has said "toe pick." He looked at her, wondering if it would help. If it would break through the shell around her. If it would bring back his Felicity.

The music started and he knew there was only eight beats before their first move. So he blurted out, "toe pick!" just before they push away from each other.

And it might be his imagination, but Felicity pushed him harder than normal.

Then he's in the routine, focusing on each move, performing each element as perfectly as he can. But he knew there was something missing, and when he stumbled out of a jump, he felt the rush of frustration and shame and guilt. Oliver did his best to recover and skated cleanly for the rest of the program. But never had two and a half minutes felt so long.

Digg looked at them with one of those penetrating gazes when they came off the ice, but then, surprisingly, he wrapped an arm around each of them as they sat in the kiss and cry. Even more surprising, their scores weren't horrible. Oliver blinked as he watched them appear on the monitor before them. "We're in fifth?"

"For now," Felicity said, her voice sounding like she's trying to stay composed but can't. He looked at her, seeing how she's chewing on her lower lip.

"Rochev and Wilson have already skated," Digg reminded them. "The Italians in third, everyone knows they excel in the short. And the remaining pairs aren't expected to be competitive. You've still got a shot."

The NBC reporter stepped into the kiss and cry, smiling widely. "Oliver, Felicity, a word? How was it out there?"

"It was good, thanks," Oliver said, taking a big swallow from his bottle of water.

"We're hearing so much about a big surprise to come in your long program," the reporter said, sounding excited at the possibility of a scoop.

Right now, the last thing Oliver wanted to deal with was the press, but he just nodded and smiled tightly. "That's right, the Diggle."

"The Diggle, in honor of your coach, yes?"

Before Oliver can respond to the question, Felicity spoke. "We've taken it out. It's not ready." Then she pushed past Oliver, heading towards the locker rooms.

Oliver took a step back, staring after Felicity. He knew his shock showed on his face, knew he should be answering the reporter, knew that the entire world, including the rest of the pairs competition, knew he had just been blindsided. But he can only stand there and watch Felicity walk away.

XXX

"All of you, in the other locker room," Quentin Lance said, storming into the men's locker room just as Oliver was finishing getting dressed after his shower. He doesn't even wait for an answer before he left.

Oliver looked at Digg. "Time to bend over and grab our ankles?"

The coach rolled his eyes a little, then grimaced. "Quentin was texting me all night, getting progressively madder. We better go face the music."

"Do you think he knows about what Felicity said?" Oliver asked, feeling his jaw tense. He's boiling mad at Felicity, for just deciding, for all of them, that the move was out, without talking to them first. But acting like this is so out of character, it was confusing as hell.

"What was that?" Lance greeted them as they step into the locker room, empty except for Felicity, Donna and Quetin. "To have any hope of winning gold, you needed to be in third. Especially if you've taken the move out."

Oliver felt his jaw tense at Mr. Lance's criticism. He wasn't saying anything that Oliver hasn't already thought, but it's frustrating to hear it, of all people, from Felicity's stepfather. He can see Felicity shrink a little from Mr. Lance's tone of voice.

Even in the midst of his anger, seeing her shoulders slump like that made him feel concerned about her. Concerned about what was going on inside her beautiful head.

"Easy, Quentin," Digg said, holding his hands up. "We're not in as good a position as we could be, yes, but we're not out of this yet. And when Oliver and Felicity finish their program tomorrow-with all the elements, like we planned until Felicity just pulled that stunt with NBC-they'll easily be in first."

Lance wheeled around and stared at Felicity. "I thought you told them before?"

"Told us what?" Oliver said icily.

Donna stepped forward, resting her hand on Quentin's arm. "We're very concerned about Felicity's safety."

"And you think we aren't?" Digg said, his voice raised.

Mr. Lance shook his head. "I wished I believed you, John. I've been patient and held my tongue all this time, through all the cockamamie ideas you've had. It was bad enough bringing Queen in, but this lift into a throw jump? It's insanity."

"Quentin-" Donna said, but he shook her off.

"No, Donna, I love Felicity like she was my own daughter, but between Svengali and Mr. Muscles here, she's gotten talked into doing this dangerous element. Putting her through all this-and if it doesn't work out, you can bet we all know who's dumping who."

Oliver felt a surge of anger course through him. Lance loved Felicity like she was his own-but not enough to formally adopt her or give her his name. That didn't seem like a father to him. Without thinking about it, he moved over to stand beside Felicity, resting his hand on her shoulder. Wanting her to know that even if he was upset with her, he was here for her.

"Quentin, what are you talking about?" Donna asked. Digg looked equally confused.

"He's been talking to Malcolm Merlyn and Sara Lance," Mr. Lance said, jerking a thumb at Digg. "About Queen changing partners after the Olympics."

Digg's wasn't the only mouth to drop. Oliver stared at Mr. Lance, then at Digg. He was already confused, and now he was just dumbstruck. Digg wouldn't do that, would he?

"That doesn't make any sense," Digg said after a moment. "Sara works with Malcolm, and she's not going to leave him. And I haven't talked to them on Oliver's behalf regardless."

"And even if he did, I don't want another partner," Oliver said quickly, dealing with the only thing he could. Because he didn't know if Digg had been talking to Merlyn, f he had been making plans. But there was no way he would skate with Sara.

He would only skate with Felicity.

With that, everyone started talking over everyone else. Quentin was yelling about Digg's disloyalty and what he's put Felicity through. Donna was on the verge of tears over Felicity's suffering. Digg was defending himself, saying he would never go behind their backs like this, "unlike Felicity deciding without consulting her coach or her partner about taking a major move out of a program!" Oliver lost his temper, hearing Digg be attacked, and started asking why they had practiced a move they weren't going to do.

There was so much yelling, and Oliver was thinking a fight was going to start-he just wasn't sure between who-when a sudden, choked sob interrupted them all, plunging the room into silence.

A sob that came from Felicity. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and she looked absolutely heartbroken. Her eyes moved back and forth between Mr. Lance and Donna. When she spoke, though, Oliver didn't expect the question she asked.

"Why now?"

Her parents looked confused, but Donna immediately stepped forward to wrap an arm around Felicity. She shoved her mother away and stood up, her shoulders back.

"Why not after Nationals? That's when you should have starred planting doubts in me-doubts about Digg, doubts about Oliver. Telling me that wouldn't it be better if I stopped this before it went too far?"

"Felicity, sweetheart-" Lance said, only for a look from Felicity to cut him of.

"I don't get it, Dad," she said, putting extra emphasis on the last word. "You want me to win gold for you so badly-but it's like at the same time you don't. Because after all, it still won't' be your gold, would it? Maybe that's why you can only love me like a daughter instead of loving me as a daughter."

Lance's face crumpled a little, the fight going out of him. "Felicity . . ."

She shook her head. "With all the mixed messages I've gotten over the years, is it any wonder I'm an expert at sending them?" Her eyes flicked to Oliver's then she turned to Digg. "I don't think you've been talking to Malcolm about Oliver and Sara. At least, not as skating partners. But-but I can't deal with this right now."

"Felicity, baby, we love you, we just want what's best for you," Donna said, taking Felicity's hand.

Once again, Felicity shook off her mother. "Mom, not now. I-I need to be alone."

She turned but stopped. Oliver could see how tight her shoulders were, the way her fingers were opening and closing into fists. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, tell her it was going to be okay, gold medal or no gold medal. That she only had to be herself and he would love her.

His mouth went dry as the realization sank in. Love her. He loved her.

"I'm sorry," she said softly without looking at anyone. Then with all that speed of hers, Felicity ran out of the locker room.

Oliver took a step to go after her, his body moving without conscious thought. But then he stopped and swallowed.

"I-I need some air," he said, pulling his coat around himself and heading for the door. He didn't know what to believe right now. Didn't know what to think. All he did know was he needed to get out.

Or else he would go after Felicity and ruin everything.

End, Chapter 7