This is, quite possibly, my favorite one yet. Favorite prompt. Favorite drabble. Sigh.
Ok. Enough of that. :) Here's the prompt:
From holysmoaksoliver on Tumblr: He didn't leave her house for a week after everything with Slade is over. Initially she considered that it was to protect her, but when he stopped shaving or even getting out of bed, she knew it had far more to do with his mother's passing and his sister's skipping town than it had to do with her. But either way, Felicity found little ways to make Oliver smile when he needed it most. She would always be there to pick up the pieces with him, even if he didn't realize she was doing it.
When he shows up at her door their first night back from Lian Yu, looking more exhausted than she's ever seen him, she doesn't think twice before letting him in. Neither of them says a word, but he holds tight to her hand as she leads him to the guest room and tucks blankets around him in the twin bed he barely fits in.
She doesn't question him when, less than an hour later, he slips into her much larger bed and wraps an arm around her middle so her back is flush against his chest. She lays awake until his breathing finally evens out and wonders about the last time he actually slept.
It's barely dawn when she opens her eyes. He's still curled around her, his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, and she can tell he's already awake. She turns over so they're facing one another, and the sadness in his eyes startles her. She wants to reassure him that they're safe now, but she's not sure that any of it is about her or them, so she says nothing.
A half-a-week's worth of voicemails from Diggle, Laurel and Sara remain unchecked, and he's barely eaten or spoken. He hasn't left her bed for any longer than it takes to shower away whatever haunts him during his few moments of restless sleep. She realizes, then, that the internal battle he's waging is one of grief and guilt over the loss of his family.
She starts to make him a cup of chamomile lavender tea each evening, setting it on the nightstand in the guest room just before going to bed. But after the second mug goes untouched, she sets the next one on the nightstand opposite her own. It's a gesture meant to assure him that other side of her bed, the one he's slipped into for the past three nights after he thinks she asleep, is open to him. He climbs into the bed next to her that night, and she leans against his side as they drink their tea together in comfortable silence.
After that he starts sitting with her on the sofa while she watches TV, and on the fifth day he pulls her feet into his lap and rubs absentminded circles into them as she flips through her DVR queue. Halfway through Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince she notices a ghost of a grin on his face and isn't sure if he's amused at the movie or at her insistence on quoting every line from it. She decides she doesn't care which it is, as long as he's smiling at something.
Her eyes blink open on the seventh morning, confused and slightly disappointed, to find that the other side of the bed is empty. She's surprised to find him sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and typing away on her tablet. A quick glance over his shoulder reveals a search for condos in Starling City. She catches his eye on her way to the coffee pot and quirks a questioning eyebrow, eliciting the first real smile she's seen from him in more than a week.
"I think it's time I get my own place," he says, setting the tablet down and settling back into his chair.
"You know you don't have to leave," She leans back against the counter and takes him in. He's dressed in jeans and a dark blue Henley, instead of sweatpants, and his beard that was approaching scary territory is trimmed. He looks more like himself, and she finds herself unable to hold back a grateful smile.
"I know, but I need to do this, "He ducks his head and presses his lips into a shy grin. "I found a couple of places that I think I may like. Will you come see them with me?"
"Of course I will." She sits down across from him at the table, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and watches him for a few seconds "Oliver, are you all right?"
He runs a hand over the top of his head and locks his eyes on hers. The worry he sees in them is almost too much, and he can't help but be honest with her. "No. But I think I will be, and that's because of you."
Her eyebrows furrow reflexively. "Because of me? What did I do?"
"Felicity," he reaches across the table and covers her hand with his much larger one. His thumb brushes across her knuckles, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "You did what you always do. You took care of me. You reminded me that I'm not in this alone. I haven't been since I met you."
"I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, Oliver. I'm so, so sorry about everything that's happened," her voice cracks with emotion, and she swallows the lump forming in her throat. When she speaks again her voice is soft. "And you know you'll never be alone, not as long as I'm around."
She stands to put her empty mug in the sink, and he stands with her, pulling her into a hug she knows he needs more than he'll admit. She wraps her arms around his waist and rubs slow, soothing circles into his back. When she feels his fingers cording through her wild mess of curls she presses her face into his shirt and smiles.
"Thank you, Felicity, " he says her name like a prayer, pressing a kiss into her hair. She opens her mouth to respond, but his voice is so earnest that it stops her short, and instead she holds onto him just a little bit tighter.