Sunlight engulfs Oliver when he wakes up.
It's everywhere, surrounding him, warming him in a way he hasn't felt in years. The tension that lives in every line of his body is gone, his muscles completely relaxed… He's content, enough that he doesn't instantly yank himself out of sleep like usually does, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn't want to move, not even a little bit.
Every inch of him is at ease as he takes a deep breath, smelling the sunshine of the yellow rays filtering across his face.
Oliver shifts, sinking deeper into its embrace...
Only it's not the sun.
It's Felicity.
All of it.
Oliver wakes a little more at that, shifting just enough to feel where he is… all he feels is her.
She's everywhere.
Somewhere in the night, he'd curled onto his side, spooning against her back, draping an arm across her waist to pull her close. She's flush against him now, her hand resting over his against her stomach, loose and just as at ease as he was, her soft, even breaths telling him she's still lost in her dreams…
There's nothing sexual about it, at all. Hell, there's nothing really even sensual about it. There's no suggestive movements or teasing touches. She's not sighing his name in her sleep or pressing herself against him in a delightfully uncomfortable way. Nothing untoward is happening, nothing that would make him - or her, specifically - blush or get that vicious adrenaline kick that makes his stomach twist.
But at the same time so much is happening. He's holding Felicity in his arms, and it strikes him how normal it feels. The rightness of this - the sense of peace it brings him, the content harmony that's settling in his chest like it's been there the entire time - it hits him like a ton of bricks.
It'd been in front of his face the entire time - she'd been there the entire time - and he'd almost missed this.
Oliver closes his eyes again, letting himself take a second, slowly pulling her a little closer. He presses his face against the back of her neck, nuzzling her soft skin, her silky hair, taking in a deep breath…
She smells like home.
He'd been so terrified of allowing himself the sort of happiness he's still not sure he deserves that he almost let this pass him by - hell, he'd pushed it away, not letting either of them stop to even consider it because the risk had been too great, the what-if's too impossible to overcome.
What if he's not enough for her? Or what if they take a chance and it all falls apart?
What if he loses her in his life?
What if Felicity gets hurt, or worse, killed, because of him?
That thought is still a heavy weight that settles deep in the pit of his stomach, one that makes him clench his teeth at the mere possibility… but now it's not the only thing he sees, not anymore. He's gotten a little taste of what it could be like, what he could have if he just let himself. He wants it, and he'd regret it if he didn't take that chance, something he obviously understands a great deal better in the future.
Felicity takes a deep breath, and Oliver feels her lungs expanding, her shirt shifting just enough that his pinky drifts over the thin strip of skin between her yoga pants and t-shirt. She's sleeping, completely relaxed and at ease, and that he's doing that for her just as much as she did it for him…
Oliver wants this.
He'd almost let this tranquil, domestic sense of home slide through his fingertips, and if Ellie hadn't shown up, he doesn't know how he…
Ellie.
She's gone.
A bolt of panic slams into his chest and Oliver sits up, somehow not waking Felicity as an urgent, "Ellie?" falls from his lips.
Nothing.
A cold chill slices down his spine, terror thrumming through his veins. He looks around the room, forcibly reminding himself to take steady breaths and not to jump to conclusions, telling himself he'd know if something had happened, if someone had been in there. Slade… no, he'd know.
But where is she?
The need to find her overrides every single thing in his head. He has to protect her. If he can't even keep her safe when she's asleep in his arms, then what chance does he have of keeping this kind of life? How can he even justify pursuing it?
He needs to keep her safe. He needs his little girl to be okay.
Only… what if he'd messed everything up? An ugly mixture of dread and horror fill his chest as his eyes fly around the room. She's not here. What if kissing Felicity, letting her see the most vulnerable parts of him, had somehow convinced her that he wasn't worth it? What if Ellie simply… wasn't anymore?
Oh god, no, no, not her, please not her. I'll do anything, please…
"Ellie?" he asks again, his voice rising.
"Shhhhh, daddy! Momma's sleeping!" chastises a little voice right before a tiny blonde head pops up over the back of the sofa.
Relief nearly bowls him over and he sags back into the bed, realizing only when he takes a breath just how fast his heart's beating.
"Ellie, what are you doing back there?" Oliver asks. "You scared me."
"I'm sorry, daddy," she says, deep concern coloring her voice at the notion of worrying him. "I was trying to play quietly. I didn't wanna wake the momma monster."
Oliver cocks his head, staring at her little guileless face before glancing back at Felicity's beautifully peaceful, still-sleeping form.
"Momma monster?" he asks with a little grin, tossing the comforter back, scooting out of bed.
"Mhmm," Ellie replies with a sure nod as Felicity moves slightly, her face crinkling at the loss of his warmth. Not waking, she scoots back into the spot he'd occupied with a contented sigh. Something clenches in his chest and Oliver almost reaches out, his palm itching to smooth her wild hair, but he stops himself and instead pulls the comforter up again, tucking it around her.
When she still doesn't wake, Oliver pads across the floor quietly.
"Momma needs coffee or she's momma monster," Ellie says quietly with utter seriousness, watching him. "Lots of 'grrrr.'"
Oliver stops a couple of feet away from her, pinching his lips together to keep from laughing out loud at the solemn lines on her face as much as the fact that she isn't exactly wrong. The few times he has seen it, Felicity is rather unhappy before she gets her coffee.
That thought makes him pause.
Do they do this often, in the future? Do he and Ellie wake up and wait for Felicity? Or do they make her coffee and sneak it in, trying to appease the momma monster? The name is something he knows would make Felicity laugh when she finally got some coffee in her system - he wouldn't be surprised if she coined it actually. He'd be too afraid to, having been at the mercy of her formidable wrath before. Which, now that he's thinking about it, probably happens way more when they get together.
He might be a dorky dad, but she's probably a dorky mom too.
God, he wants this.
Oliver glances at a clock. It's early. Too early, in fact, except for insomniac ex-castaway vigilantes and their toddler daughters, apparently.
"How 'bout we let her sleep a bit more and then we'll make her some coffee, okay?" Oliver suggests, crouching down next to Ellie.
"Can I pour the milk?" Ellie asks him hesitantly.
"Do I usually let you pour the milk?" he asks.
She sighs, little shoulders drooping and eyes downcast.
"No," Ellie admits, voice rueful and a bit downtrodden. "Sometimes it spills when I do it."
And yeah, he's a sucker because he's going to cave at this look on his daughter's face every single time she wears it. And, if he's not mistaken, she already knows it too.
"Well…" he says, tugging on the end of one of her blond springy curls. "Maybe this one time it's okay."
Her heart-stopping little grin and bright happy eyes are going to be his downfall. He doesn't have a single doubt, and he's not even sorry. In fact, he welcomes it, because damn if that isn't absolutely the way he wants to go.
"Thanks, daddy," she says throwing herself at him for a hug. "I'll be careful. I promise. I'm a big girl now. I can do it."
His arms close around her instinctively. She's so tiny, a slip of a thing entirely dwarfed by his embrace, and he's hard-pressed to think if he's ever wanted to protect anything - anyone - more than her. He doubts it.
Oliver closes his eyes and savors the feeling of his little girl in his arms, only holding her tighter when she climbs into his lap. He kisses the top of her bedhead of blonde curls. It's an incredible feeling, this absolute faith and love being thrust on him. He's never felt anything like it in his life, and it's a trust he'll carry until the end of time, doing everything in his power to not let it break, not even once.
So what if she spills the milk, he doesn't care. It'll be worth it.
Ellie pulls back a little, still perched on his knee and smiling at him in that all-encompassing joyful way that only little kids ever seem to wear so fully.
"I'm going to pour the coffee though, okay?" he asks, stroking his fingers through her hair. "I don't want you to burn yourself."
"Okay," she agrees easily. "Is it time to make coffee now?"
"In a bit, Ellie-bug," he tells her without even thinking about the nickname.
Ellie beams at it though and he's grateful she pointed it out to him last night - it's probably a really good idea to give her that sense of normalcy. She's had an awful lot of change in the last day, and that has to be incredibly confusing for a preschool-age kid, even if she can't fully grasp it all.
Oliver wonders how much of this she is understanding, if she realizes that things are just a little off or if he and Felicity - their future selves - explained what was happening to her. Is that something he should ask her? Or would that upset her, highlighting that her entire world is different?
"Are we going home today?" Ellie asks.
Oliver stares at her, his mind instantly blanking on what to say. He's not sure if she's talking about the future, or if they live somewhere else, or… what.
Would he stay here with Felicity in the future? There's a part of him that says yes, because this was his childhood home, and especially if something happens to his mother… He hadn't even considered it possible, but thinking about his mother not being alive so soon in the future hurts even more than it did last night.
"Uh, well…" Oliver hedges.
"To our Queen Manor."
Oliver pauses. "Our Queen Manor?"
"Yeah. Gramma said this is Queen Manor, but we have one too."
He has no idea how to respond. His mind races through the possibilities of that - does something happen to this place, for them to call a new home Queen Manor? Do they sell this house, or… Isabel's smirking face suddenly surfaces in his mind's eye and he wonders if she has something to do with it. She's already taken the company, he highly doubts she'll stop there considering how intertwined all the Queen assets are.
Yet another thing to worry about. As if the threat of Slade hanging over them all isn't enough. They need the team to meet, figure out their next move, formulate some kind of a plan. They need to act before Slade does. But, he thinks as he glances back towards Felicity, they'll be better off well-rested when they do.
He pushes thoughts of Slade's vendetta and Isabel's machinations away for later. It's surprisingly easy to do with his daughter there to concentrate on.
"Probably not," Oliver replies, giving her a smile, one he hopes looks more reassuring than it feels. "Later, okay?"
"What can we do now then?" she asks, blinking up at him.
"Well, we could… uh…" he starts before drawing a total blank.
It's not like she has any toys there. And Oliver doubts very much that his mother saved any of his or Thea's from when they were little. Maybe his old train set, but even that would be tucked away in some dusty corner of the attic. He doesn't even have any kids books to read to her.
"We could… color?" he suggests, wondering if he sounds as unsure to her as he definitely sounds to himself.
Ellie sighs, fully unimpressed with this suggestion. Which, yeah... that was pretty much all she'd done yesterday. He can't blame her for wanting a bit of variety.
"Can I watch Rascal the Raccoon on TV?" she asks, perking up slightly. "Momma said there was a new one soon."
He has absolutely no knowledge of children's shows these days, but even if Rascal the Raccoon is something on television now, he's pretty certain it'll be one she's seen.
"It's not on right now, honey," he tells her instead.
"But momma makes it record on the TV," Ellie insists, looking way more troubled than is warranted, like he'd just informed her the entire thing was broken.
"Uncle Barry brought you to another time, remember?" Oliver tells her gently, studying her reaction. "Mommy hasn't recorded it here."
"Oh," Ellie says with a pout... and that's it.
It's the first time he's actively mentioned time travel to her and she brushes it off like it's nothing. He has no idea if it's because she's so used to it or because she simply can't grasp the concept.
"She should then," Ellie says definitively. "It's a great show."
Oliver fights the giant smile threatening to break his face at the surety in her tone as he nods, promising, "I'll make sure she knows that."
"Can I play on her computer?" Ellie asks, raising both eyebrows and biting her lip.
Not the computer, but her computer.
Oliver just blinks at her for a moment, soaking in the faked innocence cloaking her sweet little face. So this is what his daughter looks like when she's trying to get away with something. It reminds him very strongly of Thea, actually, and he files that little bit of knowledge away for the future.
"Mommy lets you do that, huh?" he asks, raising his eyebrows back at her.
"... Sometimes," Ellie counters in a quiet voice.
"Really?" Oliver prods with a grim line to his lips and a disbelieving gaze.
"Well… she got me my own tablet," Ellie admits, looking nervous at being caught in a half-lie - which already makes her an easier child than either him or Thea. "But since I don't have it, I thought maybe I could play games on hers?"
"Nice try," Oliver tells her, fighting back a grin as she deflates.
"So what can we do?" Ellie asks, big watery eyes looking up at him. "Don't we have any games here?"
"What were you doing before I woke up?"
"I was gonna make a castle," Ellie says.
"Because you're a princess?" Oliver ventures.
To his everlasting surprise, Ellie scoffs and rolls her eyes.
"Don't be silly, daddy," she says, shaking her head. "I'm not a princess. I'm president. That's way more important than a princess."
Sometimes she's so obviously Felicity's daughter that it pulls at something deep in the core of his being. She's an incredible little girl, smarter and more sure of herself than any toddler he's ever met. She's already so much her own person that he knows without a doubt she's going to be a handful when she gets older… but every time he sees that bit of her mother in her, shining through so clearly, it makes him love her all the more.
It makes him love Felicity all the more too, which isn't a thing he'd thought was possible up until yesterday.
"I didn't think presidents had castles," he tells her.
"Well, I do," she replies in an overly lofty tone, and it's no longer Thea before him but Moira. "Because I'm president and I said so."
"And congress signed off on you building a castle?" Oliver asks.
"I'm a very good president," Ellie confides. "They listen to me."
"I'm glad that's working out for you," he says, unable to hide his amusement.
"It is," she nods with supreme confidence. "Momma even says so."
"Well… if mommy says so," he allows, poorly smothering a grin with his fingers.
"She does," Ellie assures as if this makes the statement absolute truth.
To her, it probably does. It's not far off for Oliver either, if he's being honest.
"Well, how about I help you build your castle then?" he suggests, feigning looking around as he says, "I'm not sure where to find stones though…"
"Daddy!" Ellie giggles, slipping off his lap as she shakes her head. "Not a real castle. We just need pillows and a sheet."
"Oh," Oliver says, like she's thoroughly surprised him. "Well we do have those, don't we?"
"These are excellent castle cushions," Ellie tells him with a nod, looking toward the sofa, enunciating the word 'excellent' perfectly.
How often do they do this together? It's obviously not the first time. The idea that this might be a weekend ritual or something warms his chest.
"I guess I'd better find us a sheet then," Oliver proclaims.
"Good plan, daddy," Ellie says, and he takes a second to revel in her delightful acceptance of his 'plan' before standing, heading toward the bathroom's linen closet.
It's sort of ridiculous how much he's loving this, especially considering yesterday morning he'd woken up in the cold foundry, even more tired than when he'd collapsed onto the cot at midnight - he hadn't been able to shut his mind off for even a few minutes. He'd jumped from trying to predict Slade's next move, wondering what else he should be doing to ensure nobody else fell victim to his vendetta against him, to having to play the part when it came to his mother's mayoral candidacy, smiling and pretending everything wasn't falling apart in his family, to the quiet deaths on the streets he wasn't there to stop, the people getting caught in the crossfire or falling victim to the darkness in his city, to what was happening to Roy, where he was, if he was okay, if he could save him, to how the company had slipped through his fingers and what that might mean for their assets, and to Thea, who was so angry…
But the look of happiness on Ellie's face makes all of it worthwhile, makes the burden on his shoulders lighter.
He tries to imagine what any of the men the Arrow has taken down would make of the vigilante spending his morning making a pillow fort and he finds he can't. It's practically unimaginable. But maybe that's what makes it so great. Somehow… someday, he finds a way to be something else, to be someone else, someone other than just the city's would-be savior. He figures out how to be a husband and a father, the kind of man who takes his family on vacation and cocoons them in his arms and plays make-believe with his toddler. How he manages that balance, he has no idea, but the very notion that it's possible is heady.
It hits him that he still doesn't know if he and Felicity are married in this future. His gut tells him yes, because there's no way he'd not seal the deal, especially if they have another child on the way.
Another child.
Wow.
"This okay?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly with an emotion he can't name as he heads back with two gunmetal gray sets of sheets in his hands.
"Yep!" Ellie confirms, scurrying around and propping sofa cushions up with a determined look and a steady hand. "But I need your help."
"Okay, well, you're way more experienced at pillow forts than me so I'm going to follow your direction, President Ellie."
She nods like this is fully expected.
"It's science," Ellie informs him. "Momma says so."
That is kind of true, he supposes. There's gravity and balance and tension and… okay, if Felicity turns pillow forts into a basic science lesson for their daughter he's going to be fully behind that, but it's also been a solid thirteen years since he's built a pillow fort and he's sorely out of practice.
"I used to do this with your Aunt Thea, you know," he says, tucking the sheet under the feet at the back of the sofa.
"I know," Ellie tells him. "She's an excellent castle-maker, too."
He stops what he's doing and looks back at Ellie, who's busy tucking the other end of the sheet under his mattress, being very careful to not jostle the bed enough to wake Felicity. Oh yes, they've definitely done this often.
"You do this with Thea?"
"Yeah," Ellie says, looking back at him like this is obvious, like this is nothing. "Whenever I stay over with her and Uncle Roy we build a giant castle in the living room. It's fun. I make Uncle Roy be the dragon."
For some reason, that hits him on another level entirely. This is real. It was always real - he knew it was real the second he held her in his arms - but hearing about her doing something as innocuous as building pillow forts with his sister… it's throwing him. She's real, and at some point in the not-too-distant future, she's a staple in all of their lives. Somewhere, in the next few years, she's actually building pillow forts with Thea, like he used to do.
It makes him want to cling on to this version of his future even more.
So he does.
Oliver works quietly with Ellie, tucking edges of the sheet in all the appropriate places to make a little fort, a castle - Ellie's castle. Joy fills him as he builds a silly little tent with his daughter and he knows that no matter what else might happen - if she disappears in an instant or stays with them for years - he knows he'll remember this.
When it's done, Oliver stands back to survey their work, but Ellie suddenly grabs his arm, tugging him in with her. "Quick! Get in before the momma monster wakes up and attacks!"
There is no one - vigilante or not - who would ignore that sort of demand. And, without even thinking, Oliver's diving into the tent with Ellie.
There's a weird sort of glow of diffused light filtering through the sheet as the two of them huddle together and Ellie presses a finger over her lips, looking around like she's waiting for something to happen. Oliver nods at her silent command, listening too, sitting stock-still, awaiting her instruction. It would be completely absurd if he weren't so incredibly entranced.
After a moment, he whispers, "What are we waiting for?"
"As president, I say we have to be quiet," Ellie reminds him with tremendous intensity.
"Oh," Oliver replies, just as intensely. "Okay then."
Possibly she's inherited the Dearden line a little more than he'd thought, because he falls fully silent, nodding along in agreement.
Ellie's all seriousness as she reminds him, "The monster is out there, daddy."
"Right." He pauses, but after a moment when it becomes clear she isn't going to immediately say anything else, he asks, "So we're hiding?"
"Of course not," she scoffs, looking at him like he's crazy. "We're waiting for the right moment to strike back."
Oliver can't hide his breathy chuckle at that. She's definitely his daughter too, isn't she?
"Well, maybe we need to draw it out," Oliver suggests.
Ellie cocks her head, blonde springy curls bouncing to the side as she looks at him speculatively.
"How?" she asks.
"I think…" he says, scooting closer and bending down so that he's on her level, "that monsters are drawn to laughing."
"Laughing?" she asks, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion.
"Like, say… if someone were tickled."
Her eyes go wide and her little mouth makes a circle as she blinks at him.
"Daddy, no." She shakes her head, but she's already grinning. "The monster will come!"
"That's the idea!" he reminds her and then he grabs her, tickling her sides.
Ellie squeals, twisting in his arms, laughing uproariously as she throws herself away from his assault. It's only his well-honed reflexes that keep her from tumbling backwards as his fingers tease her armpits, leaving her giggling breathlessly, managing a, "Daddy… stop!" before it's drowned out in more laughter.
He can't help but chuckle along as she wriggles around, trying to push him back just as much as she tries to crawl away, but he doesn't let her.
"Daddy!" she protests half-heartedly, her little hands pushing on his fingers and he stops, pulling her back into his lap.
There's a rustle of fabric nearby and Ellie's eyes go wide at the sound.
"Do you think it worked?" Oliver asks her, tweaking her nose.
She's still catching her breath, wide eyes on the sheet as she sagely says, "You are very silly to try to wake momma monster without coffee, daddy."
Normally, he'd agree. But this is as new to Felicity as it is to him and he knows with absolute certainty that she'll be as spellbound by Ellie as he is. She doesn't need coffee to wake her up, not today.
Ellie is earth-shattering enough all on her own.
"What's all this?" Felicity asks tiredly before poking her sleep-creased face under the sheet. Every instinct Oliver has is telling him to drag her under the sheet with them and hold her close, but he doesn't. He just smiles softly as she eases down on the floor, looking around at their fort.
"Eep!" Ellie shrieks, jittering in his arms. "Daddy, it worked! The momma monster is attacking!"
"Are you sure?" Oliver asks, his smile growing as he stares at the 'momma monster' in all her beautiful glory. "It looks less like an attack and more like a 'good morning' to me."
Felicity yawns as he talks, ducking under the sheet to crawl in with them. Her jaw cracks and she shudders against the strain of her muscles trying desperately to wake up and she's so unbelievably cute and sexy at the same time, it takes everything Oliver has not to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He wants to - god, he wants to - not that that's anything new. As he watches her get situated, he lets himself think about that. He's wanted to hold her, to kiss her, for a long time, a lot longer than just the last few hours. It was never on the table, he'd never considered it, but now…
"You sleep okay?" he asks her, his voice soft and gentle, his hand settling on hers before he realizes what he's doing. When he does, he doesn't move it.
"Mmm," Felicity agrees, leaning over to kiss Ellie's temple, who leans into it as she scrunches up her nose. "I slept great and then I woke up to laughter, which is way better than an alarm clock. Even if the alarm clock was programmed to sound like laughter. I feel like that wouldn't be the same, you know?" She yawns again, nodding, talking through it, "This is better, much better."
It might be on the verge of a typical Felicity-babble, but - like most of them - it's honest. She's right. You can't bottle this kind of happiness, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish he could. He's never felt anything like this - it bubbles in his veins like fine champagne, leaving him giddy and happy, and it's been so long since he's felt this that he can't get over how much he'd forgotten what it felt like in the first place.
"Definitely better," Oliver whispers, staring at her.
She turns to him, still half-asleep, with a muted, "Hmm?"
He just shakes his head with a soft smile. "Nothing."
Oliver knows she's waking up because she tilts her head, furrowing her brow, hearing more than what he's saying, in that Felicity way that she's always had. He's never been able to keep things from her, even when he sincerely tried, because she knows him too well. She always has.
And as the silence stretches between them, he knows she's seeing everything he's not saying.
Felicity doesn't move her hand, but her thumb shifts, almost like she's testing the waters. When he doesn't move, doesn't do anything but let her lead, she lets her fingers slide between his. A thin sheen of apprehension fills her eyes as she searches his. Oliver doesn't blink, doesn't look away. Instead he holds her stare, lets it wash over him, lets her presence wash over him.
She opens her mouth, taking a deep breath to speak, when Ellie interrupts.
"Are you ready for coffee, momma?"
"What?" Felicity asks, blinking at her.
"Coffee," Ellie says again. "Daddy said I could pour the milk because I'm a big girl."
"You are," Felicity agrees nodding. "Very big. Shockingly so, actually. Did you grow overnight?" She reaches over with her free hand - she doesn't let his hand go and he fights the urge to pull her closer again as she picks up one of Ellie's legs to check its length. "These look longer." Ellie makes a series of squeaky noises that dissolve into giggles when Felicity's fingers drift near her toes, making Oliver chuckle. "Did you get you taller? Maybe we should get you a job as a barista."
"Momma!" Ellie laughs, shaking her head. "You're silly."
"Maybe a little," Felicity agrees, smiling down at the girl with bright eyes, as Oliver smiles at her.
He knows full well in that moment that either one of them would happily make themselves look like a fool just to hear the sound of their little girl's laughter, just to see joy spread across the expanse of her tiny face. They'd both do anything for her, and they clearly do, considering where she is right now.
He's transfixed.
The adoration is evident on Felicity's face, her hand warm in his. Their daughter's chattering voice fills the tiny space, forcing Felicity's lips to pucker in a little 'o' shape as she responds, and his eyes drop to her mouth…
He kissed those lips last night. It'd been so involuntary, almost rash, but hearing her tentative words, her trying to give him an out just in case, that she was afraid it was all on her side and she didn't want him to feel like he had to do something just because they know about Ellie, about their future… he couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted to, because that was so not what he was doing.
He didn't want to push her, he didn't want to do anything too soon, or make her uncomfortable, or make her feel like she had to do something she didn't want to…
Her fears are his fears, and as he watches her talk to Ellie, stares at her bedraggled hair, the oversized shirt starting to slip off her naked shoulder, the creases along her jaw from the pillow, her glasses sitting slightly askew on her nose. It's all a sharp contrast to the vivid light in her every move, her bright blue eyes, her gorgeous grin as Ellie describes about how he helped build the fort.
She wants this, he can see it, she wants it every bit as much as he does.
"Felicity."
She looks at him just as a tentative knock raps on their door, cutting him off.
Oliver knows without even asking who it is.
"You can come in, mom," he calls out as Ellie scrabbles for the edge of the sheet, peeking around it.
Whether it's the imminent presence of his mother or just the outside world creeping in, Oliver isn't sure, but Felicity starts to pull her hand away from his. It's not a sudden jolt - it's not like she's a teenager caught in a compromising position - but her fingers ease away from his anyhow and he doesn't like it, he doesn't like that she feels like she needs to pulls away.
It feels wrong, given this new reality they've woken to...
So his fingers chase hers.
Oliver slips his hand into hers and she looks at him with blatant surprise… and then her brow furrows with hesitant hopefulness. He smiles, a tiny quick turn of his lips, but it's real, and she sees it as he meets her gaze.
There's nothing to hide here, not anymore. There never really was, except for when it came to his feelings for her. But now, now there's no reason to hide them and he lets her see everything.
The connection between them is fresh and raw - naked. It should be a big, scary thing, but it's not.
"Oh my…" Moira says from outside their tent. "It's been a long time since there's been a fort in this house."
Oliver doesn't miss the note of wistful longing in her voice.
"It's a castle," Ellie corrects, lying on her stomach with her head poked through the sheet and her bare feet kicking up in the air right next to Felicity.
"My apologies," Moira offers up, all typical regal grace and propriety.
"It's okay," Ellie tells her with a long-suffering sigh. "Daddy made the same mistake."
"Hey, mom," Oliver says, lifting up the corner of the sheet at that to look up at his mother from where he and Felicity are sitting cross-legged under the makeshift tent. He still doesn't let go of her hand, though she tenses like maybe she's expecting him to and he can feel her eyes still focused on him. He's so far past forcing distance between them at this point, he can barely remember what it was like to do it just a mere day ago.
"Good morning, Oliver," Moira says, leaning down to peek inside. Felicity starts to tug on his hand again but he doesn't let go and he definitely doesn't miss Moira noticing their intertwined fingers. "Good morning, Felicity."
"Uh, hi," Felicity says, running her hand through her hair. Oliver has to bite his tongue to keep the, 'You're beautiful,' from rolling off his lips, but not because it's not his place. More because it's just for them, and it's definitely not just them right now.
"I thought perhaps I might see if Ellie would like some waffles," Moira offers up.
"With strawberries?"
It's both Ellie and Oliver who answer, their tones ridiculously similar, full of hope and cautious optimism, recognizing what an awesome treat it was when they got strawberries with their waffles.
Oliver doesn't miss the amused little sound that falls from Felicity's lips.
His reaction is completely involuntary and he knows damn well that his level of excitement over the prospect of his mother's strawberry waffles is better suited for someone his daughter's age, but no one makes strawberry waffles like Moira Queen. They also happen to still be his favorite breakfast indulgence, even though he can't remember the last time she made them.
Years, it's been years.
He's not even a little bit sorry for the childish thrill of anticipation that rolls through him, especially when he sees the look on his mother's face - she's reached the same realization he has about how long it's been since she's made those waffles, and it strikes him how much younger she suddenly looks.
"I think I can manage that," Moira answers, delighted affection dancing in her eyes as she looks from Oliver to Ellie and shakes her head before stretching out a hand. "I thought you might like to help, Ellie?"
"Can I?" Ellie asks, practically vibrating with excitement as she looks back at Felicity. "Can I please, momma?"
"Sure," Felicity says easily. She glances towards Oliver as she speaks. "We'll join you in a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay!" Ellie chirps, clambering to her feet and taking Moira's hand. "Can there be whipped cream, gramma?"
Oliver's heart trips all over itself at that, the sound of his daughter calling his mother 'gramma,' but it doesn't seem to faze his mom even a little. She just smiles down at Ellie with a patiently maternal sort of look he hasn't seen since he was a kid. She says something in response as the two of them make their way out of the room, though he's got no idea what as he watches them, together - his mom and his daughter.
This is the only time he'll have this.
Now.
By the time Ellie comes into their lives, his mother is long gone.
His shoulders fall as Moira closes the door behind her.
He's not sure how he's supposed to deal with that…
"Your mother just saw me in my pajamas."
… and just as quickly, Felicity grounds him.
There's a slightly hysterical note to her voice that Oliver suspects has a whole lot more to do with the summation of everything that's happened in the last day than it does with his mother.
Probably.
"I doubt she even noticed," Oliver tells her, letting the sheet drop back down, cocooning them in the tent together. "And she definitely didn't care."
"Please," Felicity scoffs, self-consciously tucking her impressively frizzy hair behind her ear. "Your mother has been perfectly coiffed every day of her life. She probably wakes up looking like that. Little pixies do her hair and makeup in her sleep or something." Her eyes widen. "Oh god, I'm not wearing makeup!"
"You're not…?" Oliver stops for a split second, blinking - that's what she's worried about? He snorts, the sound disappearing in a short laugh as he shakes his head. "Felicity, you're being ridiculous."
"I am not being ridiculous, Oliver," she chastises. He snorts again and she narrows her eyes. "I'm not, I'm being serious here." She furrows her brow, her lips jutting out in a tiny pout that makes her look far more endearing than should be allowed and he grins, because he can't help it. "This is my future mother-in-law we're talking about and she's silently judging me as we speak, a little sympathy would…"
Oliver freezes. He sees the moment her words catch up with her and a cornered look of horror washes over her face, her skin turning ashy.
"I didn't mean… that we…" Felicity shakes her head, trying to take her hand back again, but he's still not letting her go. "I'm not saying…"
"Yes, you did," he interrupts.
That stops her.
"You did mean it," Oliver repeats, pulling her hand up. He doesn't know what he's doing until he's pressing his lips to her knuckles, kissing them softly, quietly savoring the way her breath catches - both in surprise and something else that makes his stomach clench. "And that's okay."
"Oliver…"
"We're not… there," he acknowledges.
"Oh god, not even by a longshot," Felicity manages, her eyes on his lips where they're resting on her hand. There's a slight tremor running along the edge of her fingers, but when he looks, he finds a smile on her lips, one that's the complete antithesis to the reluctance in her eyes. "Oliver…"
"But we have every reason to believe we're on our way."
"That's…" Felicity starts, but her voice trails off as she clearly has no idea how to finish whatever it was she'd started to say. "Oliver…"
"This is all new," he says, the words holding the same weight as what he'd said the night before. "And a bit overwhelming." That might be the understatement of the year. "But I'd say we're both handling it pretty well."
"You mean… being parents to a bouncing three-year-old?" she asks, her eyes searching his face.
"And us, being... us," he adds.
"Us?" she asks, sounding like she's sure she heard him wrong. "So there is… an 'us'?"
"Felicity…" he says, shaking his head and huffing out a quick breath. "I think we both know there's been an 'us' for a whole lot longer than we were ready to admit."
"No." She shakes her head and his heart drops for a moment until she continues, waving her hand between them. "No, we did not know that. Half of 'we' thought she had an embarrassing, horribly inappropriate, one-sided crush from hell that just wouldn't die."
"It was never one-sided," he says.
Felicity's already shaking her head. "But you… and we…"
She blinks rapidly, her unpainted lips parted in a look of surprise that makes him want to kiss her just to prove a point. He doesn't though. He listens, just like he said he would last night, because this is definitely something they need to talk about, especially if they're going to move forward.
"But you never said anything!" Felicity blurts. "I mean, there was last night… but does that count?"
Oliver frowns. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that you are someone who sees something in front of him and… doesn't see it… no, that's not what I mean. Or maybe it is what I mean, I don't know, I can't think because this is… a lot." Felicity closes her eyes. He can practically hear the wheels turning in her head, and it takes everything in him to sit still, to wait. When she finally opens her eyes, they're clear… and full of questions. "Oliver, if there's been an 'us' this entire time, why now, if not…?"
"No," Oliver says, shaking his head, hearing what she's not saying. "Felicity…"
"And what about Sara… and Helena and McKenna and Laurel. Oh my god, Laurel. Oliver, this is crazy. You've been in love with Laurel for, like, ever. If there's someone you're supposed to be all 'happily ever after' with, it's her. Not me… even though we do, apparently, it's still-"
"I'm not in love with Laurel," Oliver interrupts, feeling the truth of that in a way that seems more final than it ever has before. "I haven't been for a very long time."
"Oliver," Felicity says, shaking her head like it's the only thing she can do. "I was here, I saw you. I saw what you went through these last few years. I saw all the… women, in your life - and while it probably doesn't match your pre-island quota, there were definitely quite a few - all with Laurel being like this… this..." She waved her hand, struggling to find the right word. "Ghost or something, always there. And then Sara…"
"I love Sara," Oliver interjects, and her jaw snaps shut. He can see the dread filling her eyes and he says, "But I wasn't in love with her. I don't think I've ever been in love with Sara. I was… I was with her because it was easy, because she's like me… because I didn't have to worry about her getting hurt or killed just because she was with me."
"Oliver," Felicity starts, but he doesn't give her the chance.
"Sara knows me, but not… she knows me in a way that makes everything easier, because I don't have to open up certain parts of myself when I'm with her. I can be me… without really letting her in…"
Felicity stares at him, her face unreadable, as his own words start sinking in.
"I was with her because it was safe."
The truth of what he's saying slams into him.
Inevitable.
Sara knew.
She'd called their breakup inevitable… because it had been, since the beginning, since she'd come back. He was the one who'd gone in with blinders on. She'd known exactly what they'd had and exactly how it was going to end, because the exact same reason he was with her was why she was with him.
He wasn't risking anything with Sara, not like he would be with Felicity - and god, he'd be risking so much with her, he'd be risking everything… but it'd be worth it. There is physical proof that it's worth it in the form of their daughter downstairs making strawberry waffles with her grandmother.
It's worth it.
"I think you're confused," Felicity says, trying to pull her hand away from his. "Or maybe you hit your head when you were fighting Slade and now you're suffering from short-term amnesia." Her voice wavers. "A lot has changed, just like you said last night, and you're going into shock because if you think I'm going to believe you're over Sara that quickly - if you're over Laurel that quickly…"
She tugs on her hand again and he whispers, "Felicity," before reluctantly letting her go, his fingers instantly itching to take it back.
"You're confused," she reiterates, lacing her fingers together in a tight group. "And it's understandable, because hi, major life change in the form of a three-year-old, but…"
"I'm not confused," Oliver counters, raising his voice over hers. He goes on before she can continue. "I… I have clung to the idea of Laurel for a really long time. A really long time. Her picture in my pocket gave me the drive to survive on the island, a drive I needed there."
Felicity's quiet, letting him speak - he's never talked about this, not with anyone; the last person he talked to about that damn picture was Slade, ironically enough. He finds himself wanting to go on, to say more, to explain more, and he's not sure if he's saying it for her or for him anymore.
"But… even before I wound up on Lian Yu, I don't know that what we had was love." Oliver stares at her, willing her to see what he's saying. "It definitely wasn't at the end. I was… fixated, when I got back, yes, but for all the wrong reasons, something I had to learn the hard way." He pauses, searching for the right words. "Sometimes… sometimes it's harder to let go of the idea of someone than it is to let go of the actual person."
Felicity bites her lip as she looks at him, wariness lining her eyes, her body tense like she's bracing for some kind of letdown, like he just confirmed everything she's been saying. She shifts, her hands falling to her sides, and he knows it will take one push and she'll be up on her feet and away from him… but she doesn't move, and that gives him hope just as much as it reassures him, because he's not going to give her a reason to leave. He's not going to do that to her, not now, not ever again.
He has to show her that… but how?
Say it.
She needs more. She needs more than just reassurances that he's not in love with Laurel, or Sara, that he's not just here because of Ellie. She needs some reason to believe he could fall in love with her… some inkling of the notion that he's already more than halfway there.
"Coming back home was like living in a fog," Oliver says, reaching out his hand. He doesn't take hers, but he rests beside it, letting his fingers brush against hers, still giving her space to move away if she wants to. "For so long, I couldn't trust anyone, I couldn't rely on anyone, for anything, and... when that goes on, for so long, you stop seeing people for… people. They became… threats. Or targets. And when I decided to come home, I didn't… I didn't know how to turn that part of me off… But then I met you." She inhales sharply and he moves a little closer, letting his hand touch hers more fully. She doesn't move away from him. "You were the first person I could see as a… person. There was just something about you, and… and you made me laugh, Felicity. I'd forgotten what that had even sounded like. At that point, I wasn't sure I could be anything other than the Hood. But you… Felicity, the Hood may have come back on his own to Starling, but you're the one who brought me back."
She's quiet for a moment, scarcely breathing. Surprise plays across her face as she searches his eyes for any indication that this isn't real, that she's heard him wrong… but she won't find it. He means every single word he's said. He means them with every ounce of his being.
"Why… why didn't you say anything?" Felicity asks, voice breaking a little as her fingers tangle with his again. The slight movement has his heart soaring as her eyes keep searching his.
"I didn't think I had room in my life for being with someone I'd want a future with," he reminds her, echoing back to that awful talk after they'd come home from Russia. "Obviously… I was wrong."
They're sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room inside a tent of sheets and cushions that their daughter from the future made and he's completely poured his heart out to her in a way he never really thought he would… and it suddenly occurs to him that he's terrified. It's all on her now. He just handed her his heart, completely unhindered, and all it will take is a simple yes or no to decide what happens next.
Oliver waits, for something, for anything.
Felicity just stares at him silently, letting his words soak in. His heart's beating so loudly he probably wouldn't hear anything she says anyway; it's so loud he's surprised she can't hear it.
She doesn't say anything, and the silence starts to become deafening, growing heavier with each passing second.
Her eyes are too much for him - piercing and strikingly blue, eyes he wants to wake up next to every day for the rest of his life… he's letting himself want that, and it's making the silence even heavier. Oliver looks down at their hands instead. They're tangled together the way they should be; they're warm and soft and it takes him a moment to realize that she's not pulling away.
Still, she's quiet… and Felicity's never quiet.
But she's not pulling away.
It takes him a few seconds longer than it should to realize her other hand is moving and when he does, he jumps. His attention snaps back to her with a sudden rush of desperate hope welling in his gut, half-afraid of what he'll find but even more afraid to not look.
His sudden movement makes her pause, her fingers hovering next to his face, and Oliver nods, barely moving, just enough for her to see.
Felicity touches his cheek.
She's hesitant. He can read it all over her, but there's a new vulnerability that wasn't there before. She's searching his eyes for something, and he wonders if she finds it… and maybe she does because he sees the resolve slipping over her beautiful face when she makes her decision. He can see the moment where she does, and Oliver lets out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, a smile tugging at his lips.
She smiles, like it's a natural reaction to his as her gaze drifts down to his mouth… and then she's leaning in closer.
Oliver's heart jumps to life. She's near enough that they're sharing air, that her nose is brushing against his. He shudders out a little gasp, moving to cup her face, his hand trembling slightly, but he doesn't care. Felicity is damned near in his lap, all his cards are on the table in a way they never have been before - everything, he's shown her everything - and she's not running away.
He honestly has no idea how he got so lucky.
"Felicity," he murmurs with a breathless sigh, nuzzling his nose against hers and savoring her sharp intake of air as their lips brush against each other.
He wants to pull her fully onto his lap, he wants to kiss her with all of the passion and affection that his words can't quite express, but this has to be her choice. He already took that away from her last night when he kissed her, and while he knows she wants this - if it's him, or Ellie, or the entire picture, he's not sure just yet - he isn't about to take that choice away from her.
He can't - he won't - and he'll wait until she…
Felicity kisses him.
Oliver's mind blanks as she presses her lips against his, abruptly moving closer the second they touch.
He's vaguely aware that she's pressed up against him now, that he can feel her, and that she feels amazing, just as good and warm and perfect as he'd always imagined. They both definitely have a slight case of morning breath and they should probably go downstairs where their daughter and his mother are waiting for them and they have a laundry list of issues long enough to cover the expanse of his room that they need to deal with - personal and emotional, sure, but also including the fact that a madman from his past is intent on burning everything to the ground. None of that matters at the moment. Because right now, he just doesn't care.
Because it's just this. It's just them.
Oliver moans just as Felicity lets out a tremulous sigh against his lips.
They move at the same time.
Felicity pushes herself closer, up onto her knees so she's hovering over him, her hands cupping his face, her tongue running along his bottom lip with a breathy gasp that he feels in his bones.
He's floating. There's no other way to describe it. The second she'd touched his cheek, the second she'd looked into his eyes, when he'd known she was there with him, it was like everything clicked into place. He's kissing her, this woman he'd never let himself think about, the woman he'd always had to look at from afar, who he told himself he could never have… she's there, with him, and it's more than he could have ever imagined.
She's close, but she's not close enough, and his hands drop down to her hips, his fingers grazing along her gentle curves. Oliver leans into her, pressing himself closer to her, but he needs more.
Before he can think twice, he pulls her into his lap, tugging her flush against him. Felicity gives him a soft whimper as she straddles him and Oliver swallows the little sound, cradling her in his arms, kissing her with a slow-growing urgency that's making their confined space very, very hot.
Her hands are in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, her strong legs wrapping around his waist. He holds her tighter, seeking the warmth of her embrace just as much as he wants to hold her in his.
It's too fast. He knows this - he knows it - but he doesn't want to stop. It's everything he's dreamt about, thought about, wondered about… all the things he couldn't have, but now he can. It's all right here and he can't help but take what she's offering, because it's Felicity. He wants her. He wants the life he's going to have with her. He wants their daughter and their future - he wants it all.
That thought echoes the fact that she's right there with him, meeting him every step of the way, and the intensity of it is too much. Oliver pulls away for a second, gasping for air, every inch of him on fire with awareness as he leans into her. Her lips graze his forehead - she's breathing just as hard as he is, and her heart's pounding. He can feel it, echoing his, just as he can feel her trembling.
"Oliver…"
She's so warm and soft and perfect… He's never felt this way with someone, not in his entire life, and they've barely been doing anything for more than a minute.
Is it because he's wanted this for so long or is this how it will always be with her?
"This is…" she starts, fighting for air.
He nods with a barely audible, "Yeah."
They don't move, taking a second, and… and then she settles deeper in his lap, shifting her legs to sink down against him, and he can't help himself. He doesn't want to. With a needy groan, Oliver turns his face back up to hers blindly, his hands sliding up her back, one slipping up under her shirt.
Felicity's right there with him, her lips seeking his.
Oliver kisses her, delighting in her little moan as his hand spans the width of her naked back. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him as close as she can, opening for him, giving him everything he could want from her.
Just as he whispers, "God, Felicity," with every intention of taking her invitation, he hears the hinge on the door whine slightly.
They barely have time to rip themselves away from the other before Ellie pulls the sheet up.
"Gramma told me to tell you that the first batch of waffles is almost done!"
"Oh, okay, alright," Felicity says, pushing her hands through her hair as she nods, smiling at their daughter. Oliver adjusts slightly, just enough to hide his growing, er… problem. "Mommy and daddy will be down in a minute, okay, sweetie?"
"Okay, but you have to hurry because she said there aren't a lot of strawberries and that if you guys want waffles with strawberries, you need to come and get them right now," Ellie says.
"Oh, well then, we better get down there," Felicity responds before sliding a look to Oliver. "Something tells me Moira's Moiraness is hereditary."
Oliver huffs out a chuckle.
"And she's making them just like you do, daddy!" Ellie continues, her eyes bright.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, feeling a tug in his chest at the thought that he makes his daughter the waffles his mother makes him, of sharing that with her.
Ellie nods with a grin before spinning away, letting the sheet fall back down. They listen to the quiet patter of her feet slowly disappearing.
Neither of them move.
"Well, that just happened," Felicity says, a nervous trill in her voice. She nods, furrowing her brow, moving towards the sheet. "I'll just…"
Oliver doesn't let her finish - he grabs her, pulling her flush against him again, his lips finding hers.
It's a heart-stopping mixture of the sweet, gentle kiss from last night and the passionate one they'd just shared, and it makes every inch of him stand at attention just as much as it settles something deep inside.
When they pull back, they're both breathless.
"I'm glad it did," Oliver says.
"Hmm?" Felicity asks, her eyes still closed, and he grins, pushing his hands through her hair. She shivers in response, biting her bottom lip lightly and he makes a mental note of that before kissing her again.
And again.
He doesn't want to stop, he never wants to stop.
"Waffles," Felicity whispers, and he hums his agreement, but he doesn't stop kissing her. "Waffles are… waiting and..." His lips cover hers again, muffling the rest of her words. She grins, pulling back just enough to say, "And your mother."
That stops him.
With a quiet groan, Oliver pushes his forehead against hers. "I guess we should go down."
"Yeah," Felicity says… and yet, neither of them move. "Moving… any time now."
Oliver just closes his eyes, angling his head so his lips brush softly against hers. She's trembling and she holds him a little tighter.
He's about to pull her back into his lap, waffles be damned, when the sound of Ellie running towards the room with a breathless, "Gramma wants to know if you guys are coming," interrupts them.
Felicity closes her eyes. "Oh, that is so not something I needed to hear coming from her mouth."
Oliver grins, giving her a quick kiss before he says, "Tell her we'll be right there, Ellie-bug."
"Okay," the toddler replies, and then she's off again.
"I think I'm going to take a shower," Felicity says.
"And miss the waffles?" Oliver asks.
"Save me one with strawberries." She leans in, but before her lips touch his she pauses, hesitating, and Oliver closes the gap for her, not willing to let any opportunity to kiss her pass. Felicity grins against him, clearly in favor of his decision as she amends, "Or two."
"There are two Queen women downstairs, you really think I stand a chance?" Oliver teases, and she pulls back, cocking her head, a little line forming between her brows. "What?"
"Ellie told me that I have a company, called Queen, Inc."
Felicity pauses, not because he needs a second to process what she's saying - her own company, that's fantastic - but because she's clearly not sure how to say what she wants to say.
"Do you think we're… that we're, you know… married?" she asks just as the faint echo of the doorbell ringing filters from downstairs, followed by Ellie - who is clearly still up there, waiting for them - saying, "I'll get it!"
