Not a prompt and not AU, just something that came to me a few weeks ago. It's pretty silly but I hope you enjoy!
Set in the summer after Season 3.
The bass is thumping, sweat drips down her body, and Felicity wishes she were anywhere else but here.
They are surrounded by sweaty people moving to the beat and Felicity's completely embarrassed because she is so obviously out of her element. She just cannot keep up. Her feet are moving a mile a minute but just when she gets the hang of things the music changes and she ends up nearly colliding with the person beside her or tripping over her own feet as she attempts to overcorrect.
This is torture. Pure, unadulterated torture, disguised by a tagline that makes it sound like a party.
They're supposed to be on vacation, for goodness sake. Vacation, in her opinion, does not include submitting oneself to activities that are best left to professionals. No, this vacation is supposed to be about she and Oliver, by themselves and away from all the drama and danger of Starling City. This vacation is supposed to be about relaxing and rejuvenating and reconnecting. It's supposed to be about being together. And sure, they're here together, but nothing about this is relaxing.
Instead she feels like an idiot as she swings her arms side to side and makes a sad attempt to shimmy her hips and make her feet move at the same time. Her limbs do not cooperate and she's fairly sure she looks like a completely uncoordinated scarecrow.
She nearly bumps into Oliver as everyone except her suddenly changes directions. He reaches a hand out to steady her and helps her face the right direction while not missing a beat himself.
How on earth is he doing this?
She feels like she knows Oliver fairly well. She's seen him at his worst, at his best, and all the parts in between. They've been teammates, friends, and partners for years. But today he's caught her completely off guard, from the first suggestion to the moment the music had started pounding and his hips had started moving.
"How did we even end up here," she hisses at Oliver, eyeing him up and down as he moves and she halfheartedly shifts her weight back and forth to the beat.
The look he sends her is smug. "I promised you dinner. And sex."
She rolls her eyes, breath huffing unevenly. "Are you kidding me? You do that every day anyways. How much wine did I drink last night?"
It's a rhetorical question, because of course she knows that she drank more than half the bottle while she and Oliver were curled up together on the couch watching a Property Brothers marathon. But he answers anyways, his voice even.
He's not even out of breath!
And okay. She knows he's in insane shape. He's probably the healthiest, fittest person she's ever met. Possibly on the face of the planet. But this isn't the salmon ladder, or hitting that big tire thingy with the big hammer thingy, or sparring with Digg, or even parkouring off of every surface imaginable.
Nope.
But somehow, he's better than her at this anyways. He's even better than lots of the other people here too, many of whom are clearly regulars.
Man, she can't help but think that if Digg could see him now (and if they were talking again, those stupid boys), he'd probably die laughing.
Oliver in a Zumba class is really a sight to behold.
He's dressed in his regular workout clothes, but the blacks and greys of his clothing stand out in the room full of middle aged women wearing brightly coloured Lululemon.
And of course, there's the fact that he's a young, attractive guy in a class filled with suburban housewives. There had definitely been some staring and whispers when they'd come in the room. Some of the women Felicity recognizes from around their neighbourhood, although they haven't been in Ivy Town long enough to be formally introduced. They're probably some of the same ladies who seem to always mysteriously be outside when Oliver goes out for a run.
This, however, is not running. His hips are rolling rhythmically in a way that she's only seen in their bedroom, sweat pouring off his body as he gives the routine his all. She's trying to do the same, but it's like she has two left feet and a sense of rhythm that was left to die in the cold.
Still, she wiggles a bit back so that she can keep Oliver completely in her eyesight. If she's going to be subjected to this torture and fail terribly at this class, then she's at least going to enjoy the view. It's even more delicious considering that she knows that they're going to go home together and do homey things, like pick up some groceries or open a bottle of wine to enjoy. And also that they're probably also going to do some sexy things too.
"Alright! Nice!" The instructor bops over to stand in front of Oliver and smiles appreciatively at him. She keeps doing the steps, mirroring him, and they look like some kind of synchronized duet.
It's surprisingly not sexual in the slightest, just two people having fun moving to the music. Felicity gets distracted watching them, because the instructor is good and Oliver is not too shabby either, and accidentally bumps into the lady beside her.
"Oops! Sorry," she says, a blush joining her already flushed and sweaty face. The lady just smiles back at her, although she kind of looks sorry for her as well. Felicity huffs out a breath, turning back to focus on the instructor.
All things considered, being terrible at Zumba is not the worst thing in the world. She's amazing at lots of other things that don't involve having a sense of rhythm.
Which reminds her, she needs to get some time away from Oliver and check in with the team. The last time she'd spoken to them, Digg had told her that there were some new players in town calling themselves 'Ghosts'. She feels isolated away from the team like this. She's happy. Ridiculously happy, maybe happier than she's ever been, but there's still a niggling feeling that she's letting the team down, that there's something missing from the life she and Oliver are building here.
He doesn't feel that way. She knows because she can read him like a book and he's been so relaxed and happy since they've settled down. He fits in so well here, from helping their neighbours put together their barbecue to sharing slow cooker recipes, to freaking Zumba, Oliver Queen fits in ridiculously well in the suburbs.
It's unexpected but it makes pleasure bloom inside of her chest, seeing him all comfortable and open and himself. She thinks this is the first time in over eight years that Oliver has been able to completely be himself. It's amazing and sometimes she still can't believe that he chose her to spend this time with.
The instructor sashays off to the middle of the room, shouting encouragement all the way, and Oliver turns and sends her a seductive grin over his shoulder. It sends sparks zapping straight to her centre and her eyes instantly fly to the clock above the door. How long until she gets to take her incredibly sexy and sweaty boyfriend home?
Oh god. Ten minutes.
Her heart is pounding out of her chest and her legs are starting to feel like jelly. But she can do this. If Oliver can do this, if this group of women can do this, she can do this. She is Felicity Smoak. She's jumped out of a plane, she's zip lined above the streets of Starling, she's been swung off of a land mine like Tarzan for crying out loud! If she can do all of those things then she can survive the last ten minutes of this torturous class.
And then, miraculously, the music slows into something more her speed. More slow dance and less spaz on the dance floor. The instructor leads them through a series of stretches and as her heart rate lowers to a somewhat normal speed, she feels Oliver's eyes on her.
Well, if she has one thing going for her in this class, it's that she's pretty flexible. She'd made it through a couple years of gymnastics lessons as a kid and she's always been able to do the splits if she was so inclined, which she's honestly never been, but feeling Oliver watching her as she reaches for her toes sends something hot burning through her.
They finish up by sitting cross-legged on the floor and doing some deep breathing and she can't focus on the breaths because Oliver is gazing hungrily at her, like he wants to devour her on the spot. Which, while an attractive idea, is not ideal in a room full of sweaty people. She prefers for the two of them to be the only two sweaty people in the room.
"Thank you for coming, everyone." The instructor wraps up the class and Oliver scrambles to his feet, grabs her hand, and hauls her out of the room before anyone else has even stood up.
She splutters as she stumbles along behind him. He leads her down the hallway, past the front desk, and out the front door.
"Hey! Oliver, my shoes-"
He doesn't answer, just rounds the corner of the building and presses her firmly against it, moulding his lips to hers with a insistent noise. She responds enthusiastically, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against his. She wraps her arms around him and grips his shirt with both hands, pulling him towards her. He needs to be closer. As close as he can get. His hands slide up her sides, teasing the sides of her breasts before slipping up her neck to cup her jaw. He slows down, thumbs moving gently against her cheeks, and presses one more firm kiss to her lips before drawing slightly away.
"You're really sweaty," she says, tipping her chin to look at him. They're plastered together and she can feel exactly how hard he was working in that class. "I like it."
He grins at her, teeth flashing, before leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. "So are you."
She nips his back. He tastes so delicious. "Let's go home. Right now."
She really loves the sound of that, loves saying it, loves that they get to go home together, loves that they have a home together. It's such a small word but it has such huge implications.
He reluctantly steps back, recognizing that the gym parking lot is not the best place for post workout sex, but his dark eyes stay trained on her.
"Be right back," she promises, quickly running inside to the locker she'd stashed her shoes and sweater in. When she comes back Oliver's standing exactly where she left him, all sweaty and casually leaning on the wall, serenely staring out at the parking lot. He looks peaceful.
Her heart thumps in her chest because he's hers. And she's his. And she's not one for that whole 'I belong to you' thing, but there's something comforting in knowing that they belong to each other. It settles something inside of her that she hadn't realized existed.
"Ready!" she chips, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He swings an arm around her, tucking her into his side, and they make their way down the sidewalk together.
They're almost back to the house when she finally can't stand it any longer.
"Are we really not going to talk about how you're apparently some secret Zumba star?"
