A/N: Yes, my life is crazy and I should in fact probably be doing something else. However, back when I was writing the original set of first-kiss scenarios I wanted to write a "normal date kiss" but honestly couldn't see that actually happening… then I saw a Stephen Amell interview from the PCAs…so here's hoping he was talking about Felicity and here's my take on Oliver and Felicity on a somewhat "normal" date.
His Girl Friday
"Maybe…maybe I was wrong."
Felicity had just been sliding her arms into her coat. It had been a very long night, and as she turned to look at Oliver, she saw that he had changed into regular clothes. She also could see the livid, newly stitched cut across his cheekbone, a testament to just how close he'd come, yet again, to losing his life in the streets of Starling City. Because the cut drew her eyes it took her a minute to realize just how he was looking at her, his blue eyes anxious but intense.
"Wrong about what?" she said, taking a step toward him.
He tilted his head and she saw him swallow hard, then he walked toward her. "With all the stuff that's happened in the last few weeks, I'm starting to think I had things backward."
She still wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, but she could tell this wasn't a casual conversation. "What do you mean?" she asked trying to keep her voice even. He was standing really close.
He took a sharp breath and reached out toward her. His touch was careful, gentle, as he took her hand in his, and Felicity gasped at the unexpected sweetness coming from him. She almost couldn't bear to look up at him, afraid she could be reading too much into the simple contact, but finally she raised her eyes.
There was a warmth in his gaze that she'd never seen, and she felt her breath stop. "Maybe all the uncertainty of the life that I lead," he paused, "the life that we lead means that I shouldn't put things that matter on hold."
"Like what?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.
He gave her a small smile. "Like spending time with a woman I care about."
"Me?" she said. She had to be sure. As a "psycho ex-girlfriend" of his had once pointed out there were a lot of women in orbit around Oliver Queen.
He let out a short laugh, "Yes, you." His eyebrows lowered, "I don't like being without you."
Her voice came out uneven. "That's good to know."
"I'm just not sure what comes next," he said, and the uncertainty on his face was so endearing she nearly kissed him. Before she could reply he looked around at the Foundry and said, "This seems like the only place where we get to be us, and it doesn't seem like the best spot for a date."
Felicity swallowed hard at the use of the word "date." "I think…" she stopped and swallowed again, "I think that the place doesn't really matter."
He nodded and she saw something mischievous flash through his eyes. "You're right," he said. "So Friday night, 7:00? Just us, no work."
She nodded, not quite trusting herself to talk.
"Good," he said, obvious relief in his voice. Then he gestured toward the door, "Come on. I'll walk you to your car."
He held her hand all the way out, telling her about something slightly crazy that Thea had done that day. It felt easier than she had expected to just relax and enjoy his company.
When they reached her car he waited until she unlocked the door; then leaned forward and brushed a kiss across her cheek. "Goodnight," he said his voice low.
"Goodnight," she whispered. He paused just a moment, his breath still on her skin before pulling back. Giving her a grin that she had never seen before, he turned toward his bike
The next two days were an interesting experience. On the surface it seemed like little had changed. They worked side by side in the office and in the Foundry, caught up in minor crises on both the Arrow and the QC front. However, there were little moments that spoke to a shift in their relationship, like when he put both hands on her shoulders to look at something on her monitor, and his hand covering hers for the briefest minute when she brought a folder into his office. Every time it happened she nearly forgot to breathe, and she wondered how she'd survive an entire date without having a heart attack.
At exactly 5:05 on Friday, and in spite of the fact that he still had the HR Director in his office, Oliver stuck his head out his door and said. "Miss Smoak, didn't you say you had plans for this evening? I'm sure whatever you're working on can wait until Monday." His voice was totally deadpan, but she could tell he was barely suppressing a grin.
"Thank you, Mr. Queen," she said, trying to match his even tone.
The grin broke through for the briefest second before he turned back into his office. "Have a good weekend."
Two hours later she walked down the steps of the Foundry, nerves kicking up a swarm of iron-clad butterflies in her stomach. She hoped she'd worn the right thing – opting for feminine and relaxed in her rose print dress and pink cardigan. After all, there weren't really clear guidelines on what to wear on a date with your boss-best friend in a secret superhero hideout.
She didn't immediately see Oliver, but by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs he appeared through an opening in the north wall. "Hey," he said, holding up a hand. "I just need one more minute." Then he disappeared again.
She stood in the middle of the room, resisting the urge to check her monitors, just to have something to do with herself. What was he doing back there? When he reappeared a moment later there was a big smile on his face. He came directly toward her, reaching out his hand for hers.
"Sorry about that," he said as their fingers entwined. She watched his eyes sweep over her. His voice was soft as he said, "You look beautiful."
She heard her breath go fluttery. "So do you…I mean…you're gorgeous." She mentally kicked herself. He was amazing in jeans and a blue button down shirt. She took a deep breath, "I mean you look great."
His smile got wider, and he tilted his head toward the spot he'd disappeared to earlier. "Come see."
When they stepped through the small open doorway into the room beyond Felicity let out a gasp. What had once been a bleak empty room full of random pieces of machinery had been turned into a cozy looking, loft-like living room, complete with rugs, furniture, and what was possibly the largest flat screen TV she'd ever seen. The coffee table in front of the huge black leather couch was set with candles, wine glasses and silverware, with boxes of takeout from her favorite Mexican restaurant in the center.
"When did you do this?" she said, totally stunned.
He let go of her hand and walked to where a bottle of wine sat waiting at the edge of the table. "You know that emergency investor's meeting?" he said. She nodded, and he shrugged. "I made it up."
She laughed. "You lied to me…convincingly."
He grinned. "Who knew, right?" Then his face grew a bit more serious. "And I had help."
Felicity realized who that help had to be. "Digg," she said. "Did he know why?"
Oliver nodded slowly, working the cork free of the bottle. He had a rueful smile on his face and his voice was a bit strained. "We had a conversation."
"And?" she prompted, as he moved to pour the wine into the glasses.
She couldn't see Oliver's face as he said. "He made it clear he might stop by at any time tonight. You know, just to check in."
The real meaning of that made her cheeks warm, but she tried to sound calm as she said, "Did you remind him we're adults?"
"I did," Oliver said, turning to face her. His teeth were clenched and the expression on his face was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "It did not help."
He handed her a glass of wine. "Apparently, you shouldn't underestimate your ability to elicit strong emotions from the men in your life."
She took the glass and their eyes met. The steadiness of his gaze told her that he wasn't just talking about Digg.
He cleared his throat and grabbed his own glass. "So – dinner and a movie, not exactly original, but I thought it might be nice to feel normal."
Felicity let out a little laugh. "You created an entire room, and…" She paused, taking a sip of the wine for confirmation, "Brought a bottle of wine worth more than I make in a week. I don't think you have to worry about originality."
"Good," he said, and she could tell that he'd actually been worried. She stepped toward him and put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her, "Hungry?"
She was starving actually. They sat down side by side and dug into the food, and it was a good hour later that she realized that somewhere along the w ay she'd stopped being nervous. After all, this wasn't a blind date – this was her friend. And it was so rare that they could just talk to each other, that it felt like a treat to have a conversation that didn't revolve around drug lords or marketing plans. She had never seen him smile this much before, and every time it happened, she felt a hum of contentment.
After they split a ridiculously delicious apple empanada, Oliver said, "So, movie?"
"Sure," she said. "What did you get?"
He grinned wickedly, and didn't answer her, just turning the TV on and settling back against the couch. She was surprised to see the black and white credits start up. Well, it had Cary Grant, that was promising. Then the title came up.
His Girl Friday.
She rolled her eyes and turned to him, her smile barely suppressed as she tried to glare. "Seriously?"
"What? I've heard it's good," he said, feigning innocence. Then the wicked grin appeared again. He put one long arm across the back of the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. She saw the invitation for what it was and turned, sinking against him, her head resting on his shoulder. The contact sent little excited sparks through her, but there was also a real comfort in the warmth of him.
About ten minutes into the movie, Cary Grant's character made a crack about the girl, "making goo-goo eyes at him for two years" and Felicity felt as well as heard Oliver's low chuckle.
She turned to give him a dirty look, but froze at the look on his face. He was staring at her in a way that made her feel like the single most important thing in his world.
"Sorry it took me awhile," he said. He brought his hand up and trailed it across her cheekbone.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the slight roughness of his fingertips against her skin. "I understand."
When she opened her eyes he was a breath away, and knowing what was coming didn't keep her from being utterly overwhelmed when he closed that small distance, his lips fitting to hers. The kiss was slow and soft, and filled with a level of tenderness that she hadn't quite expected from him. She pulled back for a moment to breathe and then she moved forward, restarting the kiss, and feeling him smile again. The sound of the movie became a distant buzz as she turned into him and his hand slid down her neck, stroking gently.
When he finally pulled away to look at her he said. "I should have done that a long time ago."
She placed a quick kiss on his jaw. "The important thing is that you did it now."
With another stunning smile, he sat back, pulling her against him. By the time the closing music of His Girl Friday echoed through the basement of the abandoned steel factory, they were asleep, finally in each others arms.
