Chapter 10: Kiss It Better

February 15, 2012

Something smelled fantastic. No sooner had Felicity opened her eyes did her stomach growl. She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand and saw that it was late afternoon. Not having eaten since yesterday, combined with the long yet very satisfying sleepless night with Oliver, it made sense that Felicity was starving. She could hear the faint sound of him shuffling around the kitchen, which sparked her curiosity.

Yawning, Felicity got out of the empty bed and searched for something to wear. She settled on a long, comfy pajama sweater and boy-short panties. Before heading into the kitchen, she took a couple of minutes in the bathroom to freshen up. Her hair was an absolute mess that needed to be tamed immediately. After putting it up in a neat ponytail, she dabbed a light balm on her lips. Felicity also quickly checked her phone while fetching her slippers. She had a couple of missed messages from Sara, one from Tommy, and another from Caitlin. Caitlin's in particular made her smile. In addition to hoping that Felicity was feeling better, she mentioned that singles karaoke night with Barry had been a lot of fun. Felicity shot off a quick message to each of them. She always had her phone on her and if she didn't say something, they'd automatically be suspicious. She couldn't chance anyone dropping by and interrupting her time with Oliver.

Felicity quietly walked down the hall and peeked into the kitchen. The sight before her instantly made her weak in the knees. The kitchen table had two place settings, which also featured one of her roses from the bouquet in a small vase. The coffee pot was already set and almost finished brewing. Felicity could feel her body's craving for a hot, steaming cup of coffee but also feared that the caffeine would wake her from this dream. There was no other way to describe the scene of Oliver, shirtless and in sweatpants, standing at her mostly unused stove alternating between flipping pancakes and omelets. She didn't know where he was hiding the bacon, but Felicity could definitely smell it.

"I hope you're hungry," Oliver said without turning around. Of course he would be able to sense her presence.

"I'm starving," she answered and came to stand next to him. "You actually made all of this?"

He got the bacon out of the microwave before removing a batch of pancakes from the small griddle. "You sound surprised," he said and poured more batter.

"Honestly, I am. I thought the only things you knew how to make were cereal and a bloody Mary for those pesky hangovers."

Chuckling, Oliver finally turned to face her. "I might have picked up a few new skills over the years—cooking being one of them."

"I'm impressed. Are those...?"

"Double chocolate chip pancakes—your favorite," he supplied. "Yup."

A sudden wave of emotion hit Felicity, and she blinked back tears. She couldn't believe that he'd remembered her favorite breakfast food, let alone that he was making it especially for her. It wasn't that monumental in the grand scheme of things. Oliver actually being alive and standing in her apartment was already everything. Nevertheless, the gesture pulled at her heartstrings.

"Felicity, are you okay?" Oliver questioned at her silence.

With a huge, beaming smile, she replied, "I'm perfect." Felicity, throwing her arms around his neck, stood on her toes and kissed him. Oliver's arm wound around her to bring her closer, and she couldn't help the contented sigh that escaped. Unfortunately, a second later, her stomach decided to grumble again.

Oliver drew back slightly. "I really should feed you."

She rubbed her nose affectionately against his. "Yes, you should."

He kissed her once more and smiled. "Just one question."

"Yes, I want pancakes, an omelet, and bacon. Oh, and coffee. I really, really need coffee."

He laughed. "I know that. I was going to ask if you're wearing lip gloss."

Felicity frowned at his comment. "It's a balm. Why?"

"As good as you taste, I knew that the strawberry flavor had to be coming from somewhere," he teased.

"Well, since someone was kissing me senseless last night, I figured I'd do my part and keep them hydrated," she quipped while running her fingers along his naked collarbone.

"Smart thinking," Oliver stated and leaned in. "Because I am nowhere near done with those lips." He kissed her and playfully nipped at her bottom lip. His hand slowly trailed along her curves. "Or the rest of you." It had been difficult to tear himself away from her earlier, but basic human needs had called. Plus, he'd wanted to do something nice for her.

Oliver had awoken disoriented but content with Felicity wrapped snuggly around him. He gave himself a couple of minutes to stay and simply watch her. He memorized the lines of her face, looking so calm and innocent in sleep. The sleek, golden sheen of her curls against the pillow. The soft, tiny curves of her body resting comfortably against his much larger form. It was those kind of moments that he would need to carry with him when it was time to leave again.

"You better not be," she moaned. "But can we eat first?" Felicity pulled back and giggled at his mockingly exasperated expression. "Because I'm still hungry."

Oliver shook his head in amusement. "Sit down and I'll make you a plate."

"Yes," she cheered and rubbed her hands together. Felicity couldn't remember the last time she'd had her favorite pancakes. While Oliver finished cooking and made their plates, Felicity poured them both orange juice and coffee.

"No cream or sugar," Oliver told her.

Felicity paused with the creamer and raised an eyebrow. "Huh, that's also new."

He shrugged. "Meals on the island weren't exactly bursting with flavor. I guess I got a little too used to it."

Ignoring the sad pang in her gut at the mention of the island, Felicity cheerfully responded, "Black coffee. Got it."

They sat down at the table and started eating. Trying to be neat and ladylike was totally out of the question for Felicity. It was like her hunger only increased after the first bite of food. She finished in record time and even got up for seconds. Oliver wasn't kidding about being a good cook. The last time Felicity had tried to make an omelet, the entire bottom had been burned.

"Good thing I made extra," Oliver commented as they cleaned up afterward. "You probably would've stabbed me with your fork for the last piece of bacon."

"When it comes to food, all bets are off, buddy," she told him while placing the last plate in the dishwasher. Felicity started it up and washed her hands. When she turned back to Oliver, he was leaning against the archway. He quietly stared into the living room with his arms folded. "What are you looking at?"

"You've got a great place here, Felicity."

She was surprised by the comment. "What?"

"I didn't get a chance to really take it in last night, but your apartment is nice and homey."

Felicity walked over to him. "Thanks. I like to think so. My mom insisted on helping me decorate. If she'd gotten her way, the entire place would be pink and I'd be stuck with some hideous naked sculpture."

Oliver chuckled at that. "Your mom always did have unique taste."

"I love pink, but enough is enough," she joked. "What?" He was looking at her with an amused smile.

"You love color now," he simply stated.

"Well, the Goth look was just so '07," she said dramatically, causing him to laugh. "Not my most stylish years."

"I don't know. I thought the black made you look sexy and mysterious."

"Am I not sexy and mysterious anymore now that I'm in living color?" she teased him.

Oliver slid his fingers through her blond locks and offered one of his charming smiles. "You look beautiful either way."

Felicity couldn't help but blush at the compliment. "Enough about me. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, where's your place? What's it like?" When he hesitated, Felicity added, "I mean, you don't have to tell me where it is—although that would be nice. If it's some top secret Bratva thing, I understand." She tried to appear casual. There was nothing more she wanted than to know where Oliver spent most of his days. For so long Felicity had searched for answers, but she also didn't want to push him.

"If I had a home, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you. So I guess it's good that I don't."

Frowning, Felicity placed a hand on his arm. "What do you mean you don't have a home?"

"In my line of work," Oliver said carefully, "putting down roots isn't an option."

"But you have a place of your own, right? Somewhere to go in your off time," she said.

"Like I said before, I don't stay in one place for too long." Sensing her despair from his answer, Oliver placed his hands on her hips and drew her forward.

Felicity's hands landed on his bare chest, but her attention was on his duffle bag that was still by the door. "So that's it?" She nodded over to it. "That's your entire life in there."

"More or less depending on the business I'm conducting." Oliver cupped her face so she was looking at him. His voice was soothing. "Don't be upset, Felicity. It's better this way. Really."

That certainly explained why she couldn't track him down. He was never in one place long enough to leave behind a trail. "It's not fair," she murmured. The joy and contentment she'd felt ever since he'd walked through her door last night wavered.

"Life usually isn't, which is why we should make the most of the chances we do have." Oliver rested his forehead against hers. "I'm here with you now. Let's make it count."

Winding her arms around his neck, Felicity pulled him down and captured his lips. Oliver groaned at the sudden onslaught of her demanding mouth but didn't hesitate to match her fiery kisses. Felicity's body molded to his as her hands wound through his hair and traced the defined muscles of his back. She kissed a trail down his neck and shivered at the way his scruff scraped against her raw skin.

It wasn't enough. She needed more of him. Even after everything they'd done last night, her body was still craving him. The need was fiercer as she thought about Oliver's constant wandering. He might not have a home anymore, but he had roots. Long ago they'd grown, intertwining with hers, and taken hold of both their hearts.

Breaking their kiss, Felicity grabbed one of the hands that was currently on her butt and led Oliver forward. He sidled up behind her and kissed her neck as they moved. "The bedroom is that way," he drawled against her skin.

Her eyes closed momentarily at his ministrations. "We've already christened the bedroom," Felicity replied, breathless. She pushed him onto the couch and pulled her shirt off. The cold air against her sensitive skin along with the frenzied look in Oliver's eyes made her nipples harden. She dropped her panties as well before straddling him.

Oliver caressed the smooth, naked skin of her back. His blazing touch was a sharp contrast to the chill in the room, and it raised her flesh. "I thought that only counted when you first move into an apartment." He buried his face in her chest, nipping and sucking on her breasts.

With her head thrown back, Felicity arched into him. Her fingers ran through his hair, spurring him on. "Since you w-weren't here when I d-id," she stuttered, trying desperately to remain at least somewhat coherent, "I'm willing to make an exception." His hand dipped lower between them and she keened at his intimate touch against her sex. The other traveled back up her body and grabbed at her ponytail. He tipped her head back and kissed his way up her neck.

"You've always been the exception, Felicity," he huskily murmured, branding the words into her skin, before swallowing her moans with his mouth.

Felicity traced the hard, jagged lines of his chest down to his abs. The muscles seemed to jump at every teasing caress of her fingers. When they slid under the waistband of his sweats, his hips bucked. She clamped down on his fingers then, too, causing him to groan. "So have you," she whispered into his ear and flicked her tongue against the lobe. "I love you."

She let out a whimper of protest when the fingers that had been pushing her to the brink hitched, only to then suddenly slide out of her. The emptiness was acute. Oliver stilled her own hands and then met her confused gaze. "I want you." His voice was thick and heady.

Felicity didn't need to be told twice. After helping Oliver to remove his sweats and secure protection, Felicity leaned him back into the couch. She started to sink down on top of him, causing them both to gasp, and only made it halfway before lifting back up. Her body was so on edge from his earlier strokes that she knew her orgasm wouldn't be far off. That didn't mean she couldn't at least tease him a bit beforehand. He'd certainly done his part to wind her up. Felicity ran her hand along his scruff and up into his hair while pecking at his lips.

"Felicity," Oliver growled—half exasperated, half pleading—when she refused to take him all the way in yet again. He was barely keeping himself in check.

Felicity rubbed her nose against his. "What?" she innocently replied.

"You know what."

"Is that your deep, tough Bratva voice?" Felicity traced his tattoo.

"You want Bratva?" Oliver challenged with a wicked glint in his eye. She was so close, and he was already so hard. This teasing was killing him, and she damn well knew it. All it would take is one swift movement to bury himself deep inside her wet heat.

"I want you. I don't care how." Felicity caressed his jaw, her tiny smirk giving her away.

Oliver closed the gap between them and muttered against her lips, "As you wish..." He then gripped her hips tightly and thrusted hard between her legs.

Felicity gasped loudly as she slammed down on top of him, taking him in completely, and barely had a chance to respond before he was pumping inside of her. His kisses matched his thrusts—relentless, demanding, and devouring. All she could do was cling to him in an effort to find some stability during the rough, pleasure-filled onslaught. It didn't take long for him to push her over the edge.

Felicity came apart in his arms, burying her head in his shoulder, but Oliver didn't stop. He was determined, driving the coil in her lower abdomen to again tighten and her inner walls to flex around him with each powerful thrust. It was hard for her to stay upright as the erotic current running through her turned her limbs to jelly. As if he could read her mind, Oliver pinned Felicity down on the couch. He draped over her and placed the majority of his weight on his forearms. The extra leverage allowed him to change the angle and drive into her more forcefully. She cried out, chanting his name. He went deeper, hitting her in the exact spot he knew would bring her to the point of no return.

If she didn't know Oliver, the intense, almost feral look in his eyes would've frightened her. It was that same look he'd had in Anatoly's office when trying to convince him that he could carry out her punishment. It was a look that could do unspeakable things if necessary. His Bratva tattoo, marking his membership in one of the most powerful and lethal organizations in the world, gleamed with sweat. It rubbed against Felicity's equally slick skin as he took her over and over again. She felt the tremor in his large, strong body. Oliver was barely hanging on. Felicity didn't know where she found the strength, but her legs hitched higher and tightened around him—urging him to finish this dangerous game they'd started.

Oliver felt as if he was in a trance. The sound of Felicity's cries was like throwing gasoline on a fire. His body burned as he mindlessly moved on top of her, filling her to the hilt, his muscles straining to maintain the frenzied pace he'd set. He wanted her. He wanted her so much he ached, but he'd been careful with her up until now. Oliver had kept his darker side in check. He wanted to be the man she remembered and loved. The man who didn't live in the darkness. The man who didn't have blood on his hands. The man who didn't keep secrets that would forever change the way she looked at him. Most of all, he wanted to be her Oliver again.

Oliver had turned wild and selfish in that moment, taking everything Felicity was offering as she writhed beneath him. She was light and goodness, and he wanted all of it. He wanted all of her. Even as the monster within him reared its ugly head—a monster she had unknowingly unleashed—Oliver couldn't stop. It was all-consuming, and it wouldn't be satisfied until it devoured her completely. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her flush against him and guiding her movements. Their bodies clashed together, each demanding more.

They were so close together, Felicity couldn't tell where he stopped and she began. She'd gotten lost in Oliver many times before, but this was different. His tight grip on her was more than lust-filled passion. It was a raw, desperate hunger that instinctively had her arching into him. Whatever it was he sought from her, Felicity wanted him to have it. Oliver buried his face in her neck, the sound of his grunts muffled while he pounded into her. She felt his teeth sink into her flesh as his body shuddered on top of her, finally finding his release. Her own nails dug into his back at the sharp pain, and the coil deep inside her core exploded more powerfully than before. A kaleidoscope of color flashed before her eyes.

Minutes later they were still panting, neither able to move. Felicity's body relaxed, thrumming with the after-effects of their lovemaking, while his shook. Her brow scrunched in concern, sensing that it was more than just physical for him. Naturally, her hand found the back of his neck. She stroked it lightly to soothe him. Felicity didn't know what was running through Oliver's mind, but he needed her. It was evident in the way he stayed wrapped around her, clinging as if she might suddenly slip through his fingers before he was ready to let go.

"Oliver." Her voice was barely a whisper. Finally, he stilled and lifted his head to look at her. The dark, haunted expression in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by the kindness and love she'd always remembered, though a hint of sadness remained. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed heavily. That one gesture told her everything she needed to know.

Felicity caressed his jaw in an attempt to wipe away the tension. "When you're tired of being Bratva, you can always come home to me," she uttered softly.

Oliver kissed her forehead and looked down at her. "I thought I already did."

June 11, 2007

It was not even nine o'clock yet, and Felicity was already on her third cup of coffee. She had a long day ahead of her at the office and decided to get in early. Her supervisor had dropped a pile of files on her desk on Friday for a project. It would take her all day to sort through it, and it was due by Wednesday. In order to function this Monday morning, coffee was a must.

Felicity's face scrunched at the bitter taste. She definitely needed to add another packet of sugar. Opening her desk drawer, Felicity sighed when she realized she'd run out. She'd have to get up and go to the pantry to get some more. She begrudgingly stood, stretched her muscles, and walked down the hall. Her mind was already forming a game plan for how to tackle this latest project. Felicity had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the tall figure standing by her cubicle until it was too late.

Her whole body froze at the sight of Oliver. Felicity had almost forgotten that he was starting at QC today. She hadn't seen him since the party Saturday night and had refused to answer any of his calls or texts. Felicity had spoken with Tommy, who tried to tell her that Oliver felt bad about what had happened. He also made it known that while the fight had gotten out of hand, Oliver had been looking out for her just like he would. Apparently, Tommy agreed that Max was a jerk.

While Felicity appreciated Tommy's concern, she made sure to tell him that she was perfectly capable of making her own judgments about people. Just because she was younger than them, that didn't mean she wasn't entitled to the same level of respect. It was up to her whether she required anyone's protection. Tommy said that he understood and urged her to talk to Oliver one final time. She was still upset with Oliver—for reasons she couldn't fully share with Tommy—but said she'd think about it.

Oliver stood pensively by her cubicle with his hands in his pockets. He was always so confident and charming that it was slightly unnerving to see such a serious expression on his face. He actually looked nervous. "Felicity," he said when she approached. Her name on his lips was quiet but beseeching.

She pushed her glasses higher up her nose and unconsciously gripped her coffee cup tighter. "Oliver."

"Can we talk?"

Before she could speak, her supervisor came through the door. He was dressed in his usual corduroy pants, button-up shirt, and sweater vest. Felicity didn't know how he could wear such warm clothes in the summer. Mr. Henson was of medium height with a thin, lanky build. She wondered if his lack of body fat made him more susceptible to the AC in the building, which was always blasting. "Morning, Felicity," he greeted. "Hope you had a good weekend. I've got another set of files to give you. Why don't you stop in my office in about fifteen minutes?"

"Sure, no problem," she answered.

His gaze drifted over to Oliver before widening. Mr. Henson paused, his posture instantly straightening, and said in a more formal voice, "Mr. Queen, good morning. Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, that's okay," Oliver replied, easily slipping into his usual carefree persona. "Felicity helped fix my computer before, and I just have a couple more questions for her."

"Oh, all right then. Take your time. Felicity, I'll be in my office when you're ready."

Felicity nodded to Mr. Henson and offered a polite smile. "I won't be long."

Oliver waited until he entered his office. He opened his mouth to speak when a few more people made their way to their cubicles. Their curious eyes landed on the tense pair. "Is there somewhere we can go?" Oliver questioned. He'd been thinking about what he wanted to say to Felicity all weekend, and it wasn't something that could be done in front of an audience.

The brunette hesitated for a moment and then said, "Follow me." She led Oliver down the hall to a small conference room. Felicity usually sat facing the windows in meetings, because it offered a great view of the Starling City Bay.

Oliver watched as Felicity crossed the room and stood by the windows. The early morning light shined on her sleek black hair and gave her pale skin a creamy glow. Her arms were folded as she leaned against the window. Her petite figure was more pronounced in her form-fitting black pants, plaid black blouse, and heels. The ponytail holding back her hair accentuated her delicate neck, which inadvertently made him think about the taste of her skin. It was one of the reasons they were there in the first place, and he cast it from his mind.

Oliver stayed on the opposite side of the table, sensing that she wanted to keep some distance between them. "Felicity." Her name rolled off his tongue in a serious, almost reverent timber. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened at the party."

"There were a few things that happened. You might want to be more specific."

She wasn't going to make this easy on him. Oliver didn't blame her, nor did he expect anything less. "I'm sorry for picking a fight with Max and for putting you in the middle. We've never really gotten along, and usually I just ignore him."

"So why didn't you?

"I saw him making a move on you, and I was worried. He can be a real tool."

Felicity pushed off the window and folded her arms. "Oliver, I hate to break it to you, but the only tool at that party was you. Whether Max is in fact a jerk or not, it doesn't matter. He was being nice to me, and I'm perfectly capable of judging someone's character on my own."

"You don't know him like I do, Felicity. He was only being nice, because he wanted in your pants. Why else do you think he had his hands all over you all night?"

Felicity's temper flared, and she gripped the chair in front of her for support. "We were dancing, Oliver. Dancing requires touching. It's hardly the scandal you're making it out to be."

"It wasn't just the dancing," he stubbornly replied.

"Well, so what if he had been touching me? I don't need you swooping in to 'defend my honor' like some pathetic damsel in distress," Felicity retorted, making air quotes with her fingers. "Is that what I am to you, Oliver? Am I just some stupid, naive child?"

"What?" he retorted, totally taken aback.

"When you confronted Max, you said I wasn't an adult. That I was only seventeen and that I was off limits because I'm 'Tommy's little sister.'"

"Well, you are."

Felicity groaned in frustration and threw her hands up. "Yes, I know that, Oliver. But the way you said it completely infantilized me. You made me sound like some little kid completely unable to make her own decisions. Yes, I'm younger than all of you. Yes, I'm Tommy's stepsister. But I am not some gullible, helpless teenager who isn't allowed or can't handle talking to someone of the opposite sex. I have dated and since I'm in college, most of the guys have been older than me—my ex-boyfriend Cooper being one of them. But if I wanted to flirt with Max and we ended up making out that night, then that would've been my choice. And there would be nothing wrong or shameful about it."

"Felicity—"

"And furthermore, how is dancing or having a conversation with Max any worse than doing body shots with you? Because if you ask me, I think you licking salt off my neck and knocking back shots is a way more compromising position. What do you think Tommy or Laurel would've thought if they'd seen that?" she challenged and felt a surge of satisfaction at his flinch. "I'm not some little toy you can play with whenever you feel like it, Oliver. You can't have it both ways. I'm either mature enough to hang out with you guys and be taken seriously or I'm not. And if you think I'm not, then let's just end it here and now. You guys can do your thing the rest of the summer, and I'll do mine."

Felicity took a moment to catch her breath after her rant while Oliver stared back, stunned. She was so sick of being underestimated. All her life she'd been made to feel like an outsider. Whether it was her father walking out on their family or the kids at school who picked on her for being too nerdy, Felicity always felt like she wasn't enough. It was why she pushed herself so hard and went to MIT. Why she built up her walls and kept everyone at arm's length. Why she shrouded herself in black and lost herself for hours on her computer.

While Felicity did have a few friends from MIT that she kept in contact with, none of them were that close to her. Meeting Tommy and being welcomed into his circle of friends had been unexpected for Felicity. Even more unexpected were the moments she'd shared with Oliver. The way he spoke to her and touched her sometimes, Felicity could've sworn he'd seen past her dark and quirky facade. He'd opened up to her, too, and she'd thought that it meant he saw her as an equal. A part of her understood where he was coming from and why that protective instinct would be there, but it didn't make the truth of how he really viewed her hurt any less.

Oliver watched as Felicity turned away from him and felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He knew that Felicity had been upset, but he didn't know how deeply he'd wounded her. The worst part was that none of her assumptions about why he'd behaved the way he did were true. He'd intended to apologize and make things right between them. Instead, he'd only made the situation worse.

Walking around the table, Oliver went to join her by the window. "Felicity," he said softly. She wouldn't look at him. "I don't think you're a kid or some kind of toy. The night of the party, Sara said that you're more mature than Tommy and I combined and she's right. The way I reacted the other night wasn't a reflection of you."

She still wouldn't face him, so he continued, "The truth is, even though you're too good for Max, it wasn't just him. I would've reacted the same way if it had been any other guy there that night."

"If you were so worried about me being underage, why did you bother inviting me?" she questioned. "Which, for the record, my eighteenth birthday is less than six months away."

Oliver ran an agitated hand through his hair. He wasn't explaining this correctly at all. Translating his thoughts into actual words had never been his strong suit—not when it really mattered. "Felicity, your age isn't the issue. I'm sure some of the people there that night were even younger than you. I just used it as an excuse, because it was the only thing I could think of to discourage Max from pursuing you. It's not like I could tell him how amazing you are, because it would've made him want you even more."

Did he just call her amazing? Focus, Felicity told herself. Oliver still hadn't given her a reason as to why he'd embarrassed her so thoroughly. "Why should it matter to you whether he wants me or not?" she murmured.

Oliver hesitated, debating how much he should reveal. As strong as Felicity was trying to appear, the hurt was written all over her face. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd caused an innocent girl pain. Over the years, Oliver had left a string of broken hearts across Starling City without so much as a second thought. But with Felicity, it was different. The very thought of her believing a lie, especially one that played on her insecurities of not fitting in, formed knots in his stomach. She deserved the truth. "It shouldn't matter, Felicity, but it does."

Something in his voice caught her attention, and Felicity finally turned to face him. He'd taken a step closer to her. The silent, meaningful look on his handsome face conveyed more than he could possibly say. "Oliver," Felicity softly replied, afraid that speaking any louder would burst the intimate bubble they found themselves in, "you're not making any sense."

He lessened the gap between them. "Max was running his mouth about you when you walked away. The only reason he did it was because he knew it would get to me. And he was right. I lost it, and I hit him. I know it was wrong, and I'm sorry that I upset you. But I'd do it again—for you," Oliver declared. "Do you understand?"

"You were drunk, Oliver," Felicity said to convince herself as much as him. "You weren't thinking—"

"Felicity." His tone was deep, husky. "I wasn't that drunk."

She looked away from him, trying to collect her thoughts. He couldn't possibly be saying what she thought he was saying, could he? "So the whole body shot thing…" she trailed off, a little breathlessly. "That wasn't…you actually wanted…" It was impossible to say it out loud. It was too unthinkable. She settled with, "You said it was just a game."

Oliver took another step forward, towering over her. There was barely an inch of space between them. The air crackled with an invisible, charged energy. His cobalt eyes, sharp and insatiable, pinned her where she stood. "I lied." Raising his hand, Oliver ran his thumb along Felicity's neck. It was the exact line he'd traced with his mouth a couple of days ago. "Do you want me to stop?"

Felicity's eyes fluttered closed for a second at his touch. His warm fingers rubbing against her sensitive flesh ignited the spark all over again. The heat rose and spread throughout her entire body, burning away the uncertainty that had been plaguing her for weeks. Oliver was just as attracted to her as she was to him. Felicity's heart felt like it might beat right out of her chest at the realization. "No."

Oliver couldn't take his eyes off of her. The mixture of wonder and desire reflecting back at him was intoxicating. Felicity was unlike anyone he'd ever met. They'd only known each other a month, but the times they were together—though not as frequent—had been meaningful. The connection had been there between them from the start, and he knew they'd only scratched the surface.

"Oliver, what are we doing?" Felicity whispered.

With a minute shake of his head, he answered just as quietly, "I don't know." He traced another intimate line along her flesh.

She bit her lip. His eyes darkened, and it sent a thrill through her. This was unreal, Felicity couldn't help but think. Moments ago she'd been convinced that Oliver saw her as nothing more than his best friend's younger stepsister. Now they were standing almost chest to chest, exchanging heated looks and words with hidden meanings. Their foreheads touched, and her eyes closed completely.

"So, am I forgiven?"

Not trusting her voice, Felicity nodded in response. Her body thrummed where he touched. She could smell the sweet musk of his cologne. Hear his quick breaths before she felt them on her face. If she moved a bit closer, would Oliver's lips be there to greet hers? How would they feel? Everything about him seemed so strong and confident. Would they glide over hers with the same power and possessiveness? Or would they be more sensual, more tender?

As if sensing her train of thought, Oliver tilted her chin up. She would soon find out. Felicity licked her lips in anticipation. A part of her had been dreaming this ever since she'd met him that first day at QC. It was ironic that this was happening here, now. They had come full circle.

Oliver's nose brushed hers, and she placed a tentative hand on his chest. His heart was beating just as fast. He was so close. Felicity could feel Oliver all around her. This had been one of her fantasies as she eagerly awaited him at her mother's wedding reception. They would meet again. They would talk and maybe flirt, both feeling that invisible tether between them tightening. Maybe in that romantic, though over the top, setting the pull would become too much. Then they would kiss.

That dream had been dashed, unfortunately, the moment Felicity learned about Laurel. Laurel, she thought and it felt like she'd been doused with an ice cold bucket of water. Oliver had barely grazed her lips before Felicity turned her head. His mouth touched her cheek instead, and her body shivered despite her inner turmoil. Keeping her eyes on the city, wishing she was anywhere but there, Felicity gently pushed at his chest and drew back.

"Felicity." She could hear the question and bewilderment in his voice.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she finally faced him. "Laurel," she simply said, and he'd tensed.

"We're not—we're on a break," Oliver replied, though it lacked conviction. With one word, Felicity had put an end to them before they could even begin. Oliver couldn't comprehend how he'd gone from feeling so hopeful one moment to so forlorn in the next.

"But you're going to get back together. Why else would you promise not to see anyone else?" Felicity reasoned. "You've known Laurel most of your life. You've built a relationship with her. Would you really be willing to risk that for someone you hardly know?"

I didn't know there'd be you, he wanted to say. But at the same time, Felicity had a point. Whatever this was between he and Felicity, it was all new. Of course Oliver would be intrigued by her. The older he got, the more there was expected of him from both his parents and Laurel. Felicity was different and exciting and offered a freedom he craved. Was that the true nature of their connection? Or was it that odd, intense feeling that ached in the center of his chest? That feeling of almost falling and not caring where he landed, as long as he was doing it with her. Because that feeling was just as scary as it was thrilling.

His silence was answer enough. Felicity sighed and moved to leave. "I'll see you around, Oliver." Her words did not match the finality of her tone. This was good-bye.

Oliver caught her hand as she passed, halting her. "Felicity, this can't be it."

"It has to be, Oliver. Whether you're official or not, you're with Laurel. It wouldn't be right if I came between that. I'm not that kind of person. And you love her, right?"

"I know you're not. And yes, I love Laurel. But we're on a break, because I need to figure things out. I have no clue what I want to do with my life, but I do know that I'm here at QC today because of you. You're the one who convinced me to take a chance." Oliver's hand tightened around hers. "I don't know what this is, but I do know two things. The first is that I like talking to you and spending time with you. Even if we're just friends, I can't give that up. I won't."

Felicity stared, transfixed by the underlying emotion of his declaration. "And the second thing?"

"You need me just as much as I need you." His blue orbs bore into hers, sending the message home. "You are not alone, Felicity, and you shouldn't have to be."

Her breath hitched as his words hit her like a tidal wave. Oliver knew she put up walls. He knew she was retreating behind them. He also knew how desperately she needed him to climb them anyway. Based on his determined expression, Oliver was ready to do just that.

A part of Felicity warned her that even mere friendship with Oliver Queen could end in heartache. Basic attraction wasn't something that could simply be turned off. It would take a conscious effort by both of them. The other, more vocal part told her that it was well worth the effort. That anyone who would go out of his way to defend her from creeps like Jason or Max deserved a chance. Yes, she'd been hurt in the past. But Felicity realized if she didn't move forward now, she ran the risk of her heart hardening completely. Somehow that seemed like an even worse fate.

Lightly clearing her throat, Felicity replied, "So, friends, huh? You and me?"

"Yeah, friends," Oliver repeated, his voice hopeful.

"You do realize this means no more body shots," she joked to ease the tension.

Oliver chuckled and breathed his own sigh of relief. This wasn't the end. It was the beginning. "No more body shots," he agreed. "But root beer floats are perfectly acceptable. Are you free for lunch around one?"

"One works for me. Lucky for you, I haven't picked a lunch buddy yet."

He grinned and squeezed her hand. "Well, it looks like I started just in time."

Felicity's mind wandered as it drifted between wakefulness and sleep. Her body was content but spent as she lay wrapped in Oliver's muscular arms. They'd eventually made it back into the bedroom—the sleep they'd lost the night before catching up to them. He'd slid under the covers behind her, and Felicity snuggled further into him and the blankets. Her back rested against his broad chest with her head tucked comfortably beneath his chin. The cocoon of protection and warmth he offered gave Felicity a feeling of contentment she hadn't experienced in the longest time.

She didn't dare look at the clock. Their time was surely winnowing down and worrying about it would only ruin the moment. So Felicity laid there and let the steady rhythm of his heart, beating in time with hers, lull her to sleep. She was on the precipice of letting go when a shrill ring pierced the quiet room. Oliver swore softly under his breath and quickly pulled away to answer it. Felicity stayed absolutely still, listening.

"Yeah," Oliver answered, gruff but low. Any trace of the tenderness he'd been exhibiting toward her moments prior was gone. He was silent, and most likely tense, as he listened to whoever was speaking. Felicity could hear the other voice, but she couldn't understand it. "I debriefed them and inspected it myself. There shouldn't be any more issues."

More talking.

"They know what will happen if they fail again. I'll see to their punishment personally..." His voice was deep and menacing. Felicity had never heard him sound so cold. This was Bratva Oliver in full force. Would he actually hurt someone? How would he do it? She remembered the glimpse she'd seen of his darker side this afternoon, and it made her shiver despite being tucked under the blankets. "No, I can't at the moment...It doesn't matter where I am. I said I would handle it and I will..."

Whatever Oliver said next was lost to her as he switched to Russian. Hearing him speak the language with such ease and surety was jarring to Felicity. These last twenty-four hours had been spent together, cut off from the outside world, in a tiny bubble of their own making. There were some obvious differences in him—which was to be expected—but there had also been traces of the Oliver she knew years ago.

It was difficult to recognize that Oliver now with that steely edge to his voice. He might've been speaking in a different language, but even Felicity could tell that the conversation had taken a serious turn. For what felt like the thousandth time in the last month, Felicity considered what exactly Oliver had gotten himself into and how he'd been able to maintain that status over the years. One didn't rise through the ranks of such an organization by being merciful. Which version of Oliver, she questioned, best represented the man he'd become?

Furthermore, how was she supposed to handle it? Oliver wasn't the only one who'd changed. Felicity was a part of A.R.G.U.S., and it was her job to protect the country from such threats. That's exactly what she'd been doing, after all, when they'd first reunited. Whatever Oliver was discussing was obviously illegal. What did it say about Felicity if she was willing to overlook the oath that she'd taken for the sake of following her heart? She felt a headache forming just thinking about it.

Finally, Oliver cut the call and returned to bed. He drew her back into his embrace and even as the doubts swirled through Felicity's mind, she let him. Her instinct was still to trust him. Unlike his coarse voice moments before, his hands were as gentle as they'd always been.

"Is everything okay?" she yawned in an attempt to sound as if she'd just woken.

"Everything is fine, sweetheart." He pressed a chaste kiss to her bare shoulder, in the crook of her neck, and finished at the crown of her head. "Go back to sleep."

Felicity's arms rested atop his, pressing her to him more tightly. She didn't have any answers to the questions piling up in her head. All Felicity knew was that there was no right or wrong in that moment. She was with Oliver, and she loved him. That was enough for now.