Felicity was sitting lazily on the couch enjoying a few minutes of peace while scrolling through slashdot and other tech-related-news on her laptop. This was by far her favourite pastime. Admittedly, it's a nice change to spend an evening at home in comfy clothes, resuming her previous life. Before Oliver. Before The Arrow. Before she lost her heart to the enigmatic, closed-off vigilante and his relentless focus on shouldering the burden to save the world and everyone he loved.
Her phone vibrated, and an icon that was showing a new message was displayed.
It was Barry.
B: "Sorry to disturb your night, Felicity, but I desperately need an honest fashion feedback."
His message followed by a picture of him in full tuxedo, black tux and silver tie. Barry was standing in front of a full-length mirror, wearing the happiest smile she had seen on him in a long time.
F: "Wow, you look quite a dapper! Remind me again why are you showing me this?"
B: "Well, I can't show Iris… and since all the men in team Flash here practically have zero fashion interest (Joe is really into baby clothing, and Cisco is more interested in designing another superhero suit than a wedding coat). So..."
F: "I see your sentiment there. Although perhaps red tie is better than silver. Red is you, right?"
B: "Good point."
F: "So, I take it Iris hasn't shown you what she'll be wearing?"
B: "No, she even refused to tell me. Bad omen she said. Although I overheard Caitlin mentioning something like 'mermaid-style', 'princess-cut with sweetheart neckline' or 'strapless A-line' gown. None of the words makes any sense to me except for the word 'gown'.
F: "Don't worry about it, she'll look fab. Just don't swoon in front of the altar."
B: "Thanks for the word of caution. I shall prepare my mental. Btw, how's Oliver and William?"
She glanced towards the master bedroom and hoped the father-and-son-talk didn't go disastrously now that Oliver had been there for longer than fifteen minutes. Well, at least she heard no indignant shouting, raising voice or sound of crashing object―which was good.
F: "They are good. Oliver is brushing his 'soft' skill at the moment."
B: "And how about you?"
F: "Me?"
B: "Yeah, the last time this whole William thing happened, I ended up with one broody compatriot and his pouty technical support."
The comment had no malicious intent, in fact, she could just imagine Barry's dumb, boyish grin.
F: "Oliver is always broody."
B: (laughing emoticons) "Broody mayor with nice abs. I can't believe it until I heard Iris was raving about it."
F: "You can't keep running from reality, Flash. Time to invest more time in the gym."
B: "It's hard to resist a bad boy who is a good man."
B: "Sorry, didn't mean to say Oliver is a bad boy. Although he kind of was. I still remember the episode when he was unconscious from blood coagulation and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to jump up from the med bay to put his grip on my throat."
F: "Oliver had I-kill-you-before-you-kill-me reflexes, sorry about that. I should've warned you."
B: "None taken, I will remember that next time I need to inject him with the rat poison."
F: "And I'll invest a better restraint."
B: (laughing emoticons) "But honestly, I hope you find your way to each other because the smile he gave you was more than his usual Queen-tabloid-smile."
B: "And every hero deserves to be happy, right?"
It took her longer than usual to reply Barry's last message even though it only took her to type, "Yes."
B: "Okay, I better go to bed now. Iris already sent the invitation on the post. And thanks again for giving your valuable fashion input."
F: "Night Barry."
B: "G'night..."
Sitting on the sofa, she continued to stare at the display of her phone. The image of Barry's smiling face in his wedding updo made her reminisced Oliver in his sleek, black attire when they set up a fake wedding ceremony to capture Carrie Cutter. He had looked so handsome, even when his expression and his smile wasn't as exuberant back then...
Felicity, before I met you, I had a plan. I had a way that I was going to be. Then you walked into my life, or I … I showed up at your cubicle, and you changed everything. I was in darkness. But with your kindness, your generosity, your compassion, your intelligence, your wit and your trust, you brought me into the light. You let me know that I deserved it.
You were that light. And I don't know if I still deserve that trust, if I deserve you—I probably don't—but whatever has happened, whatever will happen, the way that you make me feel is the best part of my life. You can ask me to say that I don't love you, but I will never lie to you again. You are my always, and I just want the chance to be yours.
She knew it was a made-up wedding vow. But some part of her wished it was real, that he had meant every word he said despite their broken engagement. They both had survived the Cupid, but their relationship did not. She had tried to move on, to tell herself she could love another man, but as days and months went by, the fact only became clear that she couldn't.
However, fate had been so kind to put each of them on the same path again, but also incredibly cruel by separating them with an invisible wall of priorities. Yes, at the moment her romantic life wasn't a priority, helping Oliver to be a good dad and to win William's custody was.
And although they had fallen into some sort of unspoken domestic rhythm, she knew that Oliver's presence in her home wasn't going to be something permanent. He had made it clear that this was a temporary arrangement right from the start.
"Hey." Oliver's voice had brought her back to reality. "Did I… did I disturb you?"
"Oh, no, no!" She locked her phone in a hurried fashion. Thankfully he didn't see the trace of sadness in her eyes. "Nothing important. I was just waiting for you to... ―" she trailed off and seemed to just notice the brilliant smile that so prominent on his face. "Ah, the conversation has gone well I see," she smiled, patting the empty spot on the couch. She had been insisted that Oliver needed to have a heart to heart conversation with William. She knew, from personal experience, that things often broken by things left unsaid, deeds that left undone.
He settled into the cushions, letting his head fall back. He didn't say anything but the smile on his face did.
"Is that the "You are right" medley I am hearing?" she grinned, "Or you just a tiny bit afraid to get evicted by your landlady?"
He finally said it out loud. "Yeah, you're right."
"Oh my gosh, did you knock your head?"
"No. But Curtis accidentally upgraded my operating system."
"Very funny!" Felicity smacked his biceps.
He feigned a wounded look and rubbed the spot where she attacked him as if it hurt before turning a little more serious. "You are right about me needing to be patient with him, about waiting for him to open up to me," he explained. "And I'm not saying this to keep my space on the side of your bed. William is coming with us on Sunday," and she could hear his smile growing.
She smiled back. "Congratulations." A new brand of warm contentment spreads through her as she basked in his joy with him. In the fact that he'd shared it with her among all people. "That's a good step forward."
"Yeah," he said.
"Apparently you are good at this double vigilante-daddy duty more than I expect you will," she patted his shoulder.
"Well, I have quite an awesome teacher," he said.
"Your word, not mine," she bantered back.
"Felicity...?"
"Yeah?" She looked up at him and for a brief moment saw a play of emotions cross his face. There was a glimpse of anxiety as he sat quietly, rubbing the knuckles of his hand with his thumbs as though formulating the right words to say. After many years knowing him, although Oliver was an expert in compartmentalizing his emotion, she had been able to sense Oliver's muted feelings just by looking at him.
"Oliver, is everything okay?"
He inhaled deeply before resuming the conversation. "There'll be another meeting with the Child Protection Agency and Social Services next week." There was a hint of hesitancy on the way he broached the subject.
She tilted her head, not sure where the conversation was going."Okay?"
"They will need to interview William this time," he said, directing the statement to her. When he paused to swallow his emotion, Felicity could only guess this 'interview' would involve the possibility of William to be adopted by his distant relatives or probably something else along those lines.
"Do you think you can come and accompany….him?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, a sign when he was anxious. "I guess he would be a lot less nervous if you were there," he finished. Honestly, Felicity didn't think a nine-year-old would be as apprehensive as his father who knew he could lose the custody of his son to a stranger. Yes, loss could be inescapable sometimes, the world was unfair like that.
"Of course, I'll be there," she promised. Even if there would be a crucial board meeting that day, William was a far more important matter to attend to.
Unfortunately, you're my favourite person on this planet, Oliver. If you asked, I would even die for you.
Worries left his face, and his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Please don't."
Wait, did she just spoke the words out loud?
"Because I still need you to help William with his math, I overheard him fretting to Oscar about the upcoming test."
She pursed her lip to bite a growing grin. She could just imagine the young Oliver Queen slumping in absolute boredom, watching his teacher with forced attention in algebra class while perhaps his mind was wandering to some random, leggy girls he would meet later on in the club. Thankfully, his parents had sent him to Starling High, the only boy's school in Starling, so their son at least had some fighting chance of paying enough attention to absorb the information necessary to scrape out a D.
"Did you say anything to him?" Felicity asked out of curiosity."Let me guess. You'd say something along the line "Just relax. I would've been psyched to get a C…" She grinned knowingly while straightening her glasses that were slightly skewed.
"How do you know?" Oliver regarded her with a curious look.
"Because I know you," she said simply. "I guess your son didn't have a luxury of having parents who practically owned the school tennis court and had their name on the front of the library. They could save your out of your math misery without batting an eye."
Honestly, luxury or not, and even if she ever had parents who could make her school headmaster bowed at their will, she had priorities, integrity and she didn't put getting plastered before good grades, ever. She had always valued hard work, and she knew Oliver agreed with her, even if he never modelled the same behaviour when he was younger.
He sighed pensively. "And every time I open my mouth I make it worse."
"So, the man who took down Damien Darhk was bested by arithmetic," she teased.
"It wasn't my strongest subject in school," Oliver contended.
"Of course, and math isn't everything. Moreover, I knew perfectly that you've other redeeming quality," she said more seriously. Oliver might be a multiple college drop-out and constantly getting conduct slip for his lack of interest on pursuing academic excellence and abandoning his homework, but his years in the island had proven that he could be brilliant if he tried. Not everyone could mastered martial arts, foreign languages and survived five years being hunted by various people if not because he had some outstanding intellect.
"Like you've great leadership skill, you've great hand-eye coordination. You've amazing abs…" She bit her lip to stop the words from escaping, but it was too late. While Oliver just looked deeply entertained by her verbal gaffes and furious blushing. "No, what I mean to say is… you are a great man, Oliver. And I'm sure in time, William will be able to see that greatness in you."
A moment of understanding passed between the two of them, and Oliver gave her a small smile that she could only interpret as admiration. "Were you always like this?"
"Always like what?" she said with faux innocence.
He turned to her, and for a moment she thought she felt his finger on her blonde ringlets. "This clever. Like you make it sound so….simple."
If the fern that sat on the coffee table had eyes, it would've seen her blushed.
"Yes, I came out of the womb with a spec! The doctors were baffled," she said, choosing to take into a comedic detour to cover the growing heat on her cheeks and dismissing his praise even though it sounded like a melody in her ears.
He didn't laugh at her joke. Instead, he paid her with a generous smile that reached far into his eyes. "So, you can teach him?"
"Sure. On one condition," she replied, trying not to fidget as she met his bright blue eyes that sparkled with amusement. "Don't stop making those pancakes for breakfast. And can I request extra egg and bacon next time?"
Her request elicited a small chuckle from him. "Of course, nutritional breakfast is obviously very important things for a growing girl like you."
The next morning Oliver kept his promise and made her the special breakfast. He watched her with the tail of his eyes as she perched on by the kitchen counter, quietly flipping through her mail. They stayed like that in comfortable silence until suddenly Felicity's excited squeal broke the stillness.
"Oliver! Look at this!" She waved something that could've been a VIP invitation to some tech-conference somewhere else, except that it wasn't.
"After so long, finally…" she sighed with happiness as her eyes scanned the card in her hand. "Barry and Iris are officially getting married!" She handed the invitation to him so he could have a closer look.
"Oh wow, that's news," he said, perusing the card on his hand.
"Do you know they had known each other for nearly two decades, under the same roof!"
"For the fastest man alive, he is incredibly slow in getting his girl," Oliver couldn't resist commenting.
"True," Felicity responded thoughtfully. "They've been together as siblings and a couple for a while. Iris even dragged him once to get married in jeans."
"No way!" he let out a breathy chuckle, "There is a very fine line between craziness and pure genius."
"Remember you've told Barry before that man like you two didn't get the girl? Well, I think you are wrong," she said offhandedly.
Was that an accusation? A comparison? Or…an implicit way of saying that they stood a chance too? He didn't know what to feel or react. So he just stared at her, schooling his face to something inscrutable and bland.
If the Gambit had never sunk, if his father had never laid his life for him, perhaps right now he would be lying on a beach somewhere with a beautiful, exotic woman on either arm, caring nothing about the world. Perhaps he would become a party animal, sleeping off last night's hangover with his dad breathing down his neck about responsibility. Or perhaps he would keep the persona of the happy-go-lucky boy that made too many mistakes and never meant any of his apologies.
But then life happened and he was moored in Lian Yu. There were so much death and destruction that the only good thing he had to hold onto was the image of his family and of Laurel. The island had put his selfishness and childish attitude towards his privileged life into perspective.
And the tragedy that took his father's life away had honed him into wanting to be someone else, because his loss would stick with him for the rest of his life, coiling around his heart and squeezing whenever he thought of his father's selfless act of sacrifice on that boat.
When he returned back, despite how everyone tried to think he was the same man he once was, he knew the truth. There was nothing normal left in him. The island had turned him into a shell of who he once was, a shadow of the boy―useless and spoilt to an astounding degree and expecting so much different from what he found. He was a cold-blooded killer who wanted nothing but to right his father's wrong.
Then he met Felicity.
She was sitting behind her desk that practically strewn with multicolour folders, books and notes all over it. He paused for a moment, taking it all in, feeling slightly out of place in a world with so much brightness. Finally, he focused on his target and flashed his playboy-smile.
And that's how their story began.
It was funny to think about how their life had crossed, of the stark contrast she looked at things and approached the world. They were different. They always had been. While he was filled with anger and snide, Felicity was literal 'happiness' surviving in a world where nothing but pain seemed to surround them.
But that's what made her special.
He liked that integrity came first with her, that she clung to every hope that there was a better way of doing his crusade than just becoming a methodological killing machine. She was kind, rational, and hopeful where he could be resentful, bitter and cynical. She didn't see the world with rose-tinted glasses, but she didn't focus on the terrible either. She was just a super intellectual girl who wanted to change the world into a better place.
Sometimes, he wondered who he would be if he hadn't met her, if he'd still be striking names off the list, if he'd have accomplished as much as he had, if he'd even be alive. He wasn't healed. He wasn't sure he ever would be. But she had brought back pieces of him that he'd once thought were lost: the ability to laugh, to be happy… to love.
That bright Sunday morning, three of them headed to the crazy golf course as Oliver had planned.
"This… ―" Felicity said as they entered the threshold of the park, "...brought memories. My dad used to take me to play when I was small. The one that we have in Vegas had gnomes that squirt water everytime you passed by in front of it. We enjoyed it so much I even begged my dad to buy a have a lifetime membership in exchange for the Motorola 68000 motherboard for my birthday."
"Oh wow, how old were you then?"
"Seven."
Even though Oliver had seen that answer coming, it still didn't stop him from gawking mentally. "You must seriously like it if you were willing to trade it with… what's that again?"
"Motorola 68000. I was learning assembly language for fun and wanted to try it on something."
"You are learning programming language for fun?" It wasn't a question, more of an incredulous statement.
"Is that judgement I am hearing."
Oliver smirked. "No, just pride."
"Did your dad get it for you? I mean the crazy golf membership?" William piped in.
"Of course not," Felicity half-frowned as though she was still traumatized by her father's unwillingness. "Even though I convinced him, mathematically, the life membership will pay for itself after exactly 52 regular weekend visits, and that's a year, plus, the life membership gave you a $10 Big Belly Burger as a bonus reward. It's not just economical, it also saves us money!"
"You must be so good by now," William concluded.
"I let my skill speak for itself," Felicity said jokingly.
They walked to the counter to purchase their entry tickets and decided how many holes they would like to play.
"It's been decades since I played this," Oliver said rhetorically as they collected their clubs and golf ball and headed towards the first course.
"I am very bad at aiming things, until… ―" His words hung there, and he paled slightly, realizing he had almost divulged the most brutal part of his life. Although William knew he was the Green Arrow, he still wished to spare the boy the gruesome history of the crucible that had shaped him into one of the fiercest fighters.
"Until?" William was expecting him to finish.
"Until I let Felicity taught me." Now it was Felicity's turn to blanch, but there was no room for manoeuvre, so she decided to play along.
"That's right, I am the former Queen Consolidated champion three years in a row," she fibbed. Oliver bit his lips, desperately stifling his laugh. If anyone knew her well by now, was that Felicity Smoak owned a brain-to-limbs coordination of a drunken giraffe and had zero pain tolerance.
"You did?" William said in awe. Not only Ms. Smoak was a Minecraft whiz and Lego master―now she was claiming to be a maestro in crazy golf! And she wasn't just any golfing master―she was actually the teacher of his father―a man who could plant arrows on moving tennis balls every single run. He was close to worship Felicity as a god.
"I want you on my team!" William exclaimed.
Felicity nodded approvingly before turning to Oliver."If I win, I want you to swap sleeping on my side of the bed."
"Fair enough," Oliver agreed, twisting the club in his expert hand. "If I win, you'll come to Barry and Iris' wedding as my plus one, wearing anything that I'll tell you to."
"Deal," she said without thinking. So Felicity got herself a team-mate, two against one in a hostile competition for bed-picking-bargain versus wedding-date-deal ensued.
She watched closely as Oliver held his perfectly golfing posture. With one sure, precise hit, he swung the club. The ball rolled, through the windmill's door into the tunnel and glided past the hole and…..it missed! She could hardly believe it. It was one impeccable shot! How could he... missed it?
"Oh!" Oliver slapped his forehead dramatically, mocking a deep disappointment.
Next, was Felicity's turn, which did badly but not as bad as she thought it would (e.g: the ball completely strayed out of the golf court).
But what surprised them was William.
The boy stood and spread his leg, placing the club in between them. He eyed the hole scrupulously while taking a few experimental swing. Satisfied with his assessment, he hit the ball. If the there was no paternity test available, seeing the way he swayed his club executing one flawless swing would be one of them. He let a triumphant cheer as the ball lingered and went into the hole. It was a hole in one. Felicity shouldn't be surprised. The boy was a Queen after all.
"I've been lucky," William said humbly.
As the competition wore to the end, it became clear that Oliver had purposely missed all the chance they had earlier. The course got progressively more difficult, but Oliver could easily strike a hole-in-one without much effort. Felicity began to tense, with that wearing-whatever-you-told-me on the table, she couldn't afford to lose―not that she distrusted Oliver's good taste.
They watched as Oliver send another perfectly executed hit. The ball rolled past all the obstacle and lingered slowly approaching the target before rolling into a hole.
"No way!" exclaimed William in amazement.
"That's impossible!" butted in a guy in uniform. The name tag suggested his name is M. Freestone. He must've been one of the park attendance. "The entire decade I've been working here, I have never seen anyone strike hole in one of this course. It can't be just luck, not on this course, it must've been the skill."
"Don't encourage him," Felicity said to the interloper. Oliver grinned.
"Wait, I know you," the man said, pointing at Oliver while squeezing his memory. "Oh, Mr. Queen...Our Mayor! I saw you on the TV!" He approached Oliver and shook his hand rapidly. "Nice to see you and your family spending the nice time here in the park, Mr. Queen."
"Please, just call me Oliver," he replied congenially.
"I have to say, you have quite a talent," the attendant continued to flatter.
"I practice a lot as a child."
"Really?" The man countered, clearly think the scenario implausible. "But looking at your precision and accuracy, it hard to believe that you… ―"
"The terrain I used to play is a lot harder than this. There are rocks, cliffs and all that. It was on one of my father's private island," Oliver added, closing the possibility for the man to ask the geographical existence of this fictional golf course. "And I had a Grand Slam veteran to train me."
Felicity nearly burst out laughing while Oliver continued spinning his way into another inconceivable cover story. Oliver may have beaten her fair and square at the game of crazy golf, but she would not let him to entirely enjoy his victory.
"Wait, so your father hired this mega expensive teacher to coach you―so that you can play crazy golf?"
"Yes, he was a billionaire," Felicity chimed in. "And billionaire do stupid things."
"Can you try and see whether you can do it again? Please?" the man asked Oliver. Or more like demanded him.
Oliver nodded compliantly and prepared his stance. This time the man pulled out his phone and tapped on the camera icon.
Right enough, it was just like another replay. It was like watching poetry in motion.
"Unbelievable," said the attendant as he stopped recording and posted the video on the internet. There goes Oliver's ten seconds of fame in the making.
If the Team (with a capital letter) ever decided to explore weaponry diversification, the club and the ball could be a good weapon alternative. She could just imagine how lethal the metal stick and a hard ball in a hand of Oliver Queen. Unfortunately, Team Golf didn't send the same intimidating chill or threatening vibe as Team Arrow.
"I see that you are just beginning to utilize your aiming skill," Felicity said wryly, nothing Oliver began to close the score gap between them. "I can't believe you are going to let your boy losing this game." While she knew her motor-coordinating skill won't be anything close to Oliver, she was an expert in blackmailing.
"Well," he whispered. "I may be a gentleman, Felicity, but I am no loser," he goaded, smirking lopsidedly at her before swinging his club. "You'll come with me to the museum. Just watch."
Oliver's impossible performance had attracted a few more people, who began to assemble around the course. They hooted a victorious cheer as soon as Oliver strike another hole in one. The fearsome match ended with a slim winning by a mere two points.
"Do you ever consider joining the Olympic team? Or some professional tournament? I bet you can earn better bucks than posing as our Mayor."
He chuckled.
"Seriously," she said again. "Why do you limit yourself playing crazy golf when you can be as rich as Tiger Woods?"
"I don't need to," he said calmly. "Because I already have all that I need. I have a home, enough food to eat, nice things to wear, good friends, wonderful family… and you."
A subtle buzzing noise from his phone alarm had awakened him from his slumber. Yesterday, they went out shopping for another Lego set and headed for dinner at the Table Salt to celebrate his victorious win. It was close to 10.p.m when they returned home and Felicity still insisted she wanted to introduce him to Harry Potter.
Deactivating the device, Oliver was surprised to see the digital clock read 1:35 p.m. He had slept for seven hours non-stop, which was the longest he'd spent sleeping in the three weeks he had arrived. How could it even possible.
Because the comfortable warmth nestling in his arms was not a throw or the early November sunlight shining through the apartment window. And the warm, gentle puff of air hitting the side of his neck, caressing his skin in the nicest possible way, wasn't a wayward heat from the dimming fireplace. But Felicity, laying beside him, leaning on him, wrapped in her blanket, striped pattern standing out in stark contrast to his fair skin. Her hand that once gently laid against his palm over his stomach has migrated somehow, between sleep and wishful dreaming, towards his pecs, finding its home right above his hearts. And her body, delicate and small, pressed completely against every inch of him, comfortably curling in his terribly awake being into her blissfully unaware one.
It was like he was holding his entire world in his arms.
And yet the thought of her waking up and finding them in this predicament―if such a word was actually fitting―wouldn't make this weirder. For she would actually find this nice, normal, as he does in a way. Which is the part that is strange and a bit unsettling.
Because how did they go from 'unthinkable' to cuddling on her sofa on a lazy weekend, while still remaining completely platonic?
He knew the attraction was always there. Felicity was beautiful, Oliver wouldn't deny that, but not super-model or Kardashian's kind of beautiful―and yet that what made her... well, special. Her penchant for rambling and random chattiness had an unexpected effect on him. And despite bearing the title of CEO of a billion-dollar corporation, Felicity was still… Felicity.
She hadn't become a materialistic barbie that only wore couture gown, owned perfectly manicured hands and sported perfect blonde ringlets. She still cut coupons, use discount cards and complained about his ludicrous, expensive taste with little means to make them met. Her kitchen cabinet was bare, and her fridge was as austere as someone who lived in World War II. She still drove that crampy mini copper….and seemed to enjoy the ordeal they got every grocery trips, trying to think of a creative way to put the passenger and the grocery in one single load. She still enjoyed huddling together watching Doctor Who accompanied by cheap Chinese takeaway. Oliver may have endured a spartan life during his period of captivity, but it wasn't out of choice.
There was a testament of strength in her that told him she earned her place in this life and that she didn't take the easy way―and this what made Oliver found her deeply endearing. Not only that, as their friendship progressed, she had proven to be the light he needed.
Felicity was a wildcard - an unexpected but welcomed anomaly in his life.
She was filled with the colour of excitement, honesty and laughter. She had this inner confidence and fire that attracted people to her. Oliver had dated various women, but no one else quite liked her. Perhaps, it was her vibrant smile and never-ending positivity that made him realized how austere and lonely his life was ever since that islands and how much he craved to escape from the darkness that seemed to swallow him whole. She was the one who taught him how to smile again, how to be happy again….and how to love again.
Truthfully, Oliver had a hard time discerning the tone of their new relationship seemed to be heading. And the fact that he was able to hold her again as they cuddled in sofa, everything felt so distant and surreal. It was like things had returned to the way it was. He knew they would be phenomenal together as a soulmate and partner in crime and…. ―
"No. Because you have a history of breaking her heart," the unwanted voice in his head reminded him.
Oliver immediately shoved the thoughts. It's selfish, and one of the many self-conscious and treacherous parts of himself had fought the notion, the simplicity and pleasure taken in this life he shouldn't be able to partake in; that he simply doesn't deserve.
But he felt his body grow heavy at the thought that he'd have to let Felicity go. Again. Could he do that? Now that he had a chance to get her back, could he let her leave? The years without her had been filled with so much regret, at the decisions he had made, the secret that he kept and at the things he had never said.
No. He shouldn't allow emotion to cloud his judgement. He had promised to remain as friends than to embroil Felicity in another romantic promise that potentially could endanger her existence.
In front of him, Felicity pressed her lips together, studying him for a bit, before she suddenly asked, "Is everything okay?"
Oliver jerked slightly, he didn't even notice when she opened up her eyes. He was so enamoured by Felicity his brain had turned him sappy and unfocused.
Shaking the haze from his mind, he told her, "Yes. Everything's fine."
Oliver felt her gaze unerringly settle onto his prone form. He wondered whether Felicity could see right through him.
"Fine?" She sounded sceptical. "Just fine? Oliver, I can tell that you have something you want to tell me."
He tries to ignore the panic the flares inside his chest. Everything is great, of course, but he's suddenly feeling nervous for reasons he cannot explain. They stood in silence for a while, Oliver getting lost in his thoughts. Such a large part of him recoiled at going through losing Felicity again; but a small part of him, the part that loved her the most, only wanted her to be happy―even when it meant a life without him.
"I was just thinking about...I know we've talked about it. About this arrangement…. About William staying here, about him getting used to me, and it might be a little weird."
"You mean about us?" The corner of her mouth tilted upwards. "I mean, confusing right? For him. For us. For me. For you. But I don't want to add more to your plate."
For a little while, Oliver was caught mesmerized by her unconscious grace. The way she tucked a stray hair behind her ears, the way her lips pulled up to a smile. That was the best weapon in her arsenal and Oliver was disarmed, helpless and unable to control his traitorous heart. He was Smoaked.
"No one will understand why you come out from my apartment without raising questions about us, you know… ―" she gestured vaguely between them. "Not just tonight. Another night."
Here is your chance. Tell her now!
"So… do you want to talk about it?" he looked at her earnestly.
And there was again the look that made, and his heartbeat raced, and his stomach flipped in a nicest possible way.
"I would love to talk about it," Felicity finally resolved.
But fate be damned, because suddenly the door flung open and the word, "Surprise!" exclaimed by familiar voice had completely paralyzed him on the spot.
Next to him, Felicity's jaw fell open.
"Mom?"
Note: I hope you've enjoyed this week's chapter and, as always, I would love to hear what you think!
Question to the fandom: is it just me, or I still find it weird that Oliver put a huge trust in Slade Wilson? I still can't believe he trusted the man who had killed his mother and left the team (while they are in Lian Yu). Or am I missing something here?
