Oliver's first day back at practice is not great. He's rusty after two weeks off, especially since he spent most of that time focused on Felicity and very little of it actually thinking about football or preparing to get back on the field.
It also doesn't help that Tommy's being a dick, going after Oliver on every play, charging him as soon as Diggle snaps the ball.
"What the hell, man?" Oliver finally yells after the third time Tommy levels him, slamming his shoulder into Oliver's chest at least five seconds after he throws the ball, blindsiding him. He hits the ground hard, his head snapping painfully against the turf, the wind knocked out of him. "That was a cheap shot."
"It was clean hit," Tommy tells him. He's out of breath, his chest heaving and his face red and sweaty. "Maybe you've just been off the field too long."
Oliver pushes himself to his feet, getting right up in Tommy's personal space, the two of them standing chest-to-chest. Tommy's eyes flare, but then Diggle's there, steeping between the two of them, putting a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "Let it go, man."
Oliver stares at Tommy for a few beats, the anger building inside of him, but Dig flexes his hand on Oliver's shoulder, like he can read Oliver's mind, and it's not painful or anything, but it's enough to snap Oliver out of it, and he forces himself to take a breath, to relax a little, his shoulders slumping under Dig's hand.
"Yeah," he finally says, looking at Dig, not at Tommy. As he gets back into position, he bumps his shoulder purposefully into Tommy's chest hard enough that Tommy stumbles back a couple of steps. Oliver smirks, and Tommy lunges at him, Dig stepping between them again.
"Merlyn!" Coach Wilson shouts. "You and Queen can continue your lover's spat on your own time. Get your ass back on defense!" Tommy glares at him, but jogs back over to the other side of the field, and Oliver takes a deep breath, trying to calm down.
The rest of the practice plays out pretty much the same, Tommy going after him, Diggle trying to keep the two of them from beating the hell out of each other right there on the practice field.
At least the rest of the team seems happier to see Oliver, clapping him on the back and high-fiving him and telling them they're glad he's back. He's not sure who's more relieved to see him, Roy or Coach Wilson. He was a little worried there'd be some pushback from Roy, but instead the kid seems almost desperately grateful to hand the QB position back to Oliver. And Coach Wilson almost smiled when Oliver first showed up on the field, his one good eye practically twinkling as Oliver jogged out of the locker room.
But after the first hour of watching Oliver miss his receivers and get leveled by Tommy, Coach Wilson starts to look less happy and more annoyed, and even puts Roy in on a couple of plays, making Oliver stand on the sidelines and watch the kid hit the throws Oliver kept screwing up.
Luckily, this week's game should be cake - they're playing South, who hasn't won a game all season - but next week is the Homecoming game against Blüdhaven. It's going to be the toughest game of the season, and Oliver doesn't know how he's going to do it if Tommy's still pissed at him and he keeps overthrowing the ball on every pass.
Honestly, the only way Oliver gets through it is by thinking about Felicity, how blue her eyes are behind her glasses, the way she always looks kind of amazed when he kisses her, the soft, smooth feel of her skin. And no matter how much things suck right now with Tommy and football and all of the other stuff he used to care about, he knows pretty soon he'll be able to see Felicity and somehow that just makes everything else not matter so much.
When Oliver gets to the library after practice, Felicity's there, sitting at one of the tables, staring at an open book on the table in front of her and chewing on her thumbnail. She must be pretty focused on whatever she's doing because doesn't look up when he walks in, but just the sight of her makes him feel better, looser and lighter, somehow, all that stuff with Tommy not weighing on him so much.
"Hey," he says, and she starts, jumping in her seat like she didn't know he was there. She looks panicked to see him, not happy, and suddenly that loose, light feeling vanishes. "You okay?"
"Your mother was here," Felicity says immediately. She sounds like she's on the verge of tears, but the way the light is hitting her glasses it's hard to see her eyes, so he can't tell for sure.
"Hey," he says again, deciding to wait until he knows what his mother said to her before he decides how mad he is at his mom. "Tell me what happened."
"She hired me to be your private tutor," Felicity tells him, her voice hitching slightly. "Mondays and Wednesdays at your house after football practice."
"Wait," Oliver says, confused. "Isn't this a good thing?"
"I thought it was," Felicity says. "But then, right before she left, she said since she was paying me, my relationship with you needed to stay 'professional'."
Oliver clenches his jaw. "And what did you say?"
"I said okay," Felicity says, sounding miserable. "Well, I didn't say okay, exactly but...I don't know. Your mom is pretty terrifying, and she blindsided me, and before I could really register what had happened and what I had agreed to, she was gone."
Oliver grits his teeth, trying not to show how upset he is. He doesn't want Felicity to think he's mad at her — he's actually kind of impressed that she's gone toe-to-toe with his mother more than once and came out more or less unscathed — but he has no idea why his mother insists on interfering with his life. So: "Who cares what my mom says?"
"She's right, though."
"What do you mean, she's right?"
"Your parents are are going to be paying me to spend time with you," Felicity says. "If I'm...I mean, if we're…you know, doing stuff, then I'm basically a prostitute."
He laughs before he can stop himself. "Felicity," he says, trying not to smile because of the way she's glaring at him. "You're not a prostitute."
"I am if I'm getting paid $125 an hour to make out with you!"
"So tell her you changed your mind," Oliver says with a shrug. Seriously, he doesn't get why this is such a huge deal. If you ask him, his mom did them a favor, but if it's causing this much stress for Felicity, it's a simple enough fix. "That you don't want to do it anymore."
Felicity bites her lip, looking conflicted. "I'm trying to save money for college," she tells him. "And what your mom is offering...it's a lot. I've actually been thinking about getting a part-time job next semester, but to make as much money as your parents are going to pay me, I'd have to work a lot more hours, and I wouldn't get to see you as much." Her eyes go wide, and she shakes her head, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Not that we're going to be together next semester," she adds quickly. "Or that we're not going to be together next semester. That's a long time from now, obviously. Not that I don't want to be with you for a long time, or that I do want to be with you for a long time. What I mean is-"
"Felicity," he interrupts, smiling at her, reaching down to take her hands in his. She looks up at him over the top of her glasses, still worrying her lip. Her palms are slightly sweaty, and he thinks it's actually kind of adorable, how nervous she is right now. He guesses maybe his mom is a lot more intimidating when you haven't spent 17 years thinking of ways to get around all her rules.
"Yeah?"
"Take the job."
Felicity's face falls. "But what about us?"
Oliver shrugs, brushing his thumbs across the top of her knuckles. "My mother isn't paying you every second of every day, right?"
"Right," Felicity confirms, but she still looks upset. "Just four hours a week."
"So for those four hours, we'll remain professional," he tells her. "But when my parents are not paying you…" He leans forward and presses a kiss against her jaw, smiling against her skin when she shivers under his touch.
"I'm not sure your mom is going to go for that," Felicity says, but she sounds distracted and a little breathless, not nearly as upset as she was a few seconds ago.
"So she doesn't have to know," Oliver mumbles against her skin, trailing kisses up her jaw. "We'll be...discreet."
"Discreet around just her?" Felicity says, the last word practically a gasp. "Or around everyone?"
Oliver shrugs again, because he really doesn't care, he's way more interested in running his tongue along the soft skin of Felicity's throat, hearing the way her breath catches as she angles her neck to give him better access. "We'll figure it out."
Felicity hums, ducking her head kiss him on the lips, opening her mouth under his, doing that little gasp thing she does when he nips gently at her lower lip. Oliver tugs her closer to him, practically dragging her onto his lap, her legs warm and smooth and against his.
"We should probably get going," Felicity mumbles, but she's sliding her hand across the back of his neck, her fingernails scraping lightly along his skin, which slightly undermines her point. "Your mother is going to wonder where we are."
"Please stop talking about my mother," he begs her, snaking one arm around her waist to hold her closer to him. She makes a quiet noise that he thinks might be a laugh, and then she's shifting his lap, kissing him again, and his mind pretty much goes blank as the blood rushes to other parts of his body.
They're still making out when Oliver's phone buzzes some time later. He ignores it, his mind on Felicity and the fact that she's basically straddling him, her mouth hot and wet under his, but then Felicity pulls away, turning around to snag his phone off the table.
She hands it to him and he groans when he sees the screen, his mom's picture on the display. Fuuuuuck.
"You have to answer," Felicity tells him. She sounds kind of breathless, but he's not sure if it's from kissing him or because she's panicked about his mother calling. He suspects it's probably a little of both.
Oliver sighs and presses talk, mostly because he knows Felicity will be upset if he doesn't. "Hi, mom," he says, and Felicity stands up, moving away from him and straightening her clothes, and, ugh, this just really, really sucks.
The two hours they spend at his house that afternoon are an exercise in frustration.
His mother suggests they study in the kitchen or in his dad's office, suggestions Oliver blithely ignores, leading Felicity upstairs to his bedroom instead. Felicity follows him, looking nervous, and she insists that they keep the door to his room open so his mom doesn't think they're up to anything. She also refuses to sit with him on the bed, going straight to his desk instead an pulling out her books, getting straight to work talking about some boring math thing he barely understands.
As much as he doesn't like it — Felicity being all business even though she's in his bedroom — Oliver has to admit it's probably the smart move. Especially because his mother stops by almost a dozen times, being completely obvious about the fact she's checking up on them, no matter how many excuses she comes up with, like there's absolutely no other time she can confirm with Oliver he'll be able to attend some dressage event of Thea's in three weeks.
And, okay, it shouldn't be a big deal. It's just a couple of hours and he still gets to spend time with Felicity. The problem is, he doesn't want to just spend time with her. For the past two weeks, he's spent time with her, talked to her about calculus and chemistry and Hamlet, but now he can do more than that — can touch her and kiss her and actually be with her — and he can't stop thinking about that.
It doesn't help that Felicity seems completely fine with the whole professional thing, diligently focusing on what little homework he has and purposefully moving away from him whenever he tries to get close to her. Plus, she's taken off her blazer and kicked off her shoes, one leg tucked underneath her as she sits at his desk, and she looks so casual and at home in his room that it does something funny to his heart, making it beat weirdly fast in his chest. It's really distracting and the whole thing is totally unfair.
It feels like it did that first week, when he liked her but couldn't do anything about it, could barely admit it to himself. But it's about a million times worse because now he knows how soft the skin on her legs is, right where it meets her skirt, and how good she tastes, like lipgloss and cherries. He spends most of the time staring at her, not listening to a word she's saying, just thinking about a couple of hours before when they were in the library, the way she was practically straddling him while they made out, and eventually he has to pull one of his pillows into his lap to keep from completely embarrassing himself.
By they time the two hours are up, Oliver feels like he might crawl right out his skin from wanting to touch her. Felicity's doing the whole professional thing, shrugging back into her blazer and sliding her shoes back on before she grabs her backpack and slings it over her shoulders, but when he puts his hand on the small of her back to guide her out of the room, he doesn't miss the way her breath catches in her throat, her eyes dark as she looks over at him.
His mother has apparently found someone else to terrorize or annoy, which is the only reason Oliver and Felicity almost manage to make it out of the house unnoticed before she appears again, watching with dismay as Oliver pulls on his coat.
"Where are you going?" she says, and Felicity takes an immediate step away from him.
Oliver grits his teeth, clenching his fist as he drops his hand back down to his side. "I'm driving Felicity home."
"Oh, I'm sure one of the drivers can do that." His mother waves her hand dismissively, but she's staring at Felicity with a hard expression, one that makes Oliver's shoulders go tense. He really doesn't get what his mom's problem is. You'd think she'd be thrilled that he was interested in Felicity; she's smart and she's nice and she's basically perfect.
"I'm on my way out anyway," he lies easily, pocketing his keys.
"Oh," his mother says, crossing her arms over her chest and arching one eyebrow. "Where are you going?"
Oliver glances at Felicity for help, but she's looking at his mom not at him, a slightly terrified expression on her face. So he says the first thing that comes to mind: "To Tommy's house."
His mother blinks. "You two have made up?"
"Sort of," Oliver hedges, not wanting this to drag out any more. "I mean, that's why I'm going over there. To talk to him."
"Well." His mom glances between him and Felicity, like she's trying to think up another tactic. She must not come up with anything because she finally just says, "Dinner will be on the table at eight. Feel free to bring Tommy along."
"Will do," Oliver assures her, and then he puts his hand on the small of Felicity's back again, directing her out of the house.
"Are you actually going to Tommy's?" Felicity asks once they're on the road. Oliver has the radio turned low and his hand resting on Felicity's knee and he just wishes things could be this easy all the time.
Oliver shrugs. "Yes. No. I don't know. He's still mad at me."
"Sounds like the whole giving him space thing maybe isn't working," Felicity offers.
Oliver huffs out a breath. The truth is, he and Tommy have never fought for this long, and he has no idea how to deal with it. He really thought it would have blown over by now, but judging by how Tommy acted at practice today, he's still pissed. "Yeah," Oliver admits. "I just wish I knew what to do."
"Do what you said you were going to do," Felicity says. "Go over there and talk to him."
"What if he doesn't want to talk to me?" Oliver says, his voice coming out a lot quieter than he means for it to, so quiet he's surprised Felicity can hear him. He and Tommy have never been in a fight this long, and it's even worse because Oliver doesn't totally understand why Tommy was so mad at him in the first place.
Felicity reaches down, putting her hand over his where it's resting on her knee, crooking her fingers through his. "He'll want to talk to you," she assures him, and he wishes he was as confident about it as she seems to be.
When they get to her house, there are lights on inside and the curtains in the front widow are open. Oliver puts the car in park, and leans over the console, confused when Felicity leans back, putting her hand on his chest, holding him back.
"What's wrong?" he asks. He's still got his hand on her leg, right above her knee, her skin warm and soft and smooth beneath his fingers.
"My mom's home."
"So?"
"So, I thought we were being discreet."
"That's in front of my mother. I doubt yours will care if we're not acting professional."
"Oh, she'll care," Felicity says. "She'll probably throw a party and rent a billboard and tell every single person she's ever met that I finally have a boyfriend," she groans, tipping her head back against the seat. She sits up again almost immediately, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Not that you're my boyfriend," she add quickly. "I mean, I know we haven't talked about that or anything, I just mean how my mom would see it, which obviously isn't how you see it, or don't see it, or how I see it, for that matter. Not that I don't want you to be my boyfriend, because I really do...and I am definitely going to stop talking now."
Oliver grins, he's pretty sure the whole rambling thing is his favorite thing about her. He strokes his thumb along the inside of her knee, and she makes this soft, encouraging noise in the back of her throat, and okay, maybe that's his favorite thing about her.
He leans in again, but she puts her hand on his chest again, and he groans. "I'm sorry," she says miserably.
"It's fine," Oliver says, but he huffs out a heavy sigh, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He gets that she's worried about what's going to happen if his mom finds out, but it sucks that even though he's spent a ton of time with her today, she's been keeping him at arm's length for most of it. "I'm just…frustrated."
"I know, and I am sorry." Felicity slides her hand under his, lifting it off her leg, and threading her fingers through his. "But we'll figure it out."
Oliver just nods miserably in response. Felicity bites her lip, turning her head to glance out the window towards her house before leaning quickly across the console, pressing a soft kiss against his mouth. "Thanks for the ride," she says, and then before he can try to convince her to say a little bit longer, she's getting out of the car, walking towards the house. Oliver waits until she gets inside, and then he sighs, putting the car in gear and heading for Tommy's.
Normally, Oliver doesn't even bother knocking at Tommy's house, but tonight he does, rapping with his knuckles and then standing out on the expansive porch, waiting to see if Tommy's going to open the door or just ignore him, pretend like Oliver's not out there.
He waits a minute, and then knocks again, harder this time, practically pounding on the wood. Even if Tommy's not home, someone from the staff should be, and the fact that no one's coming to the door is starting to piss him off, like Tommy's told everyone in the house not to open the door for Oliver.
He's raising his hand to knock again, when suddenly the door swings open and Tommy's there, glaring at Oliver, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Hey," Oliver says, surprised. His hand is still hovering in the air, ready to knock again.
"What are you doing here, Oliver?" Tommy sounds annoyed, and he's standing so that he's blocking Oliver from coming in to the house, and Oliver's just suddenly really tired of this whole thing.
"Can I come in?"
"Why?"
Oliver sighs, his shoulders slumping. This whole situation sucks and he's not sure if he's more mad at himself or at Tommy, but he knows they can't keep going like this forever. "I'm sorry about what I said to you," Oliver tells him. "I was a dick, and I didn't mean it."
Tommy blinks. "You're apologizing?" He relaxes slightly, uncrossing his arms and pushing the door open a little more, enough so that Oliver can see past him into the house.
"I'm trying," Oliver admits. "Just…can I please come inside?"
Tommy just stares at him for a few beats, but then he must come to a decision because he stands back, opening the door wider, and Oliver feels like a huge weight has been lifted off his chest, his whole body lighter as he follows Tommy inside.
The house is as quiet as it normally is during the week, when Malcolm's gone, and Oliver remembers what Felicity said about it being kind of sad that Tommy's in this huge house all alone.
"So?" Tommy says, leading him into the living room. There's a movie playing on the television with sound muted, Vin Diesel and The Rock silently beating the hell out of each other. "You were saying something about how you're a dick."
Oliver rolls his eyes. "I said I was a dick, and also that I was sorry. That stuff I said…" he trails off, but Tommy doesn't say anything, doesn't jump in to help him out and Oliver sighs. "That stuff wasn't true. You've got a lot of people who care about you and love you and want you around."
"Oh yeah?" Tommy says and, man, he is really not making this easy. "Like who?"
Oliver shrugs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Lots of people, you. I mean…" Oliver stops, feeling like an idiot. He's not really a share your feelings kind of guy, but maybe Felicity was right about talking to Tommy, maybe if Tommy's ever going to forgive him, Oliver needs to go all out. So: "I mean, I love you," he says. "And I've missed you and—"
"Ollie," Tommy interrupts him, putting his hand on Oliver's shoulder. "Let me stop you right there. Listen, I get that you're probably really lonely now that you're not with Laurel, maybe the nights are getting a little long, but I'm just not interested in you like that, man."
Oliver laughs, surprised, and Tommy grins.
"I mean, I appreciate the sentiment, don't get me wrong..."
"Shut the hell up, Tommy." Oliver shoves Tommy away from him, and Tommy laughs even harder. "You got any plans for tonight?"
"I told you, Ollie, I'm not into you like that."
Oliver rolls his eyes. "My mother wants you to come to the house for dinner," he says. "And please say yes because she's been on my ass all day."
"About what?" Tommy asks reaching down to grab the remote off the coffee table, flicking off the TV, which is a pretty good sign as far as dinner is concerned.
"Nothing," he lies, not saying anything about him and Felicity. Not just because of the discreet thing, but because he's very aware that he and Tommy still haven't talked about anything that went down at his party last weekend. "You know how she gets."
"Right," Tommy says, leading Oliver back to the front door. "I'm sorry too, by the way. For the whole punching you in the face thing."
"Forget about it," Oliver shrugs. Tommy's not mad at him anymore, and it just doesn't seem worth it get into a whole thing about Laurel and all the stupid things Oliver's done lately. It's all in the past, anyway, and if Tommy doesn't want to bring it up, then he's not going to either.
The next day, Oliver wakes up late, sleeping right through his alarm. After dinner, he and Tommy hung out for a couple hours and then he talked to Felicity on the phone and then after they talked, they texted for a while and by the time he managed to actually get to bed, it was after midnight. And then he had this amazing dream about Felicity, which meant he spent a very long time in the shower, trying to get it out of his system.
By the time he finally manages to get dressed and out of the house, he's extremely late. The drive to school is actually pretty quick, probably since most everyone else is already where they're supposed to be.
Oliver spends the whole time thinking about Felicity, and by the time he gets to school, he knows there's no way he's going to be able to sit quietly behind in her in chemistry, smelling her shampoo and looking at the delicate slope of her neck. So instead of going to class, he veers off a few doors before the chemistry lab, ducking into a supply closet that he knows from experience is usually open and empty.
He tests the lock to make sure it works and then pulls out his phone, the screen bright in the darkness. Ask Ms. Lewis for a hall pass, he texts to Felicity, hoping like hell she doesn't have her phone on silent.
It only takes a couple of minutes before his phone buzzes in his hand. Class started 20 min ago. Where are you?
I'll explain when you get the pass
How am I supposed to get a pass?
Argh. Oliver groans, tipping his head back against the shelves. For someone as brilliant as she is, Felicity has a frustrating inability to come up with good cover stories. Idk say you need to go to the bathroom or something, he texts back.
It only takes a couple of seconds before she responds: ok.
He waits for Felicity to text him back once she has the pass, leaning agains the shelves of cleaning products, his stomach flipping in anticipation. Finally, his phone buzzes.
Now what?
Oliver opens the door and sees Felicity standing in the empty hallway right outside of their chemistry classroom, looking down at her phone. He glances the other direction, making sure they're alone and then turns back to her. "Psst," he says, just loud enough for her to hear him.
Felicity looks up at Oliver, her forehead crinkled in confusion. He gestures for her to come to him, and she does, slipping her phone into her pocket and looking unsure.
"What are we-" Felicity starts, but Oliver kisses her before she has a chance to finish whatever it was she was going to say. She makes a startled squeak of surprise, but then she kisses him back, pressing her body flush against his
Oliver kisses her until he starts to feel a light-headed, out of breath. "Hi," he says, pulling back just enough to talk to her. "I missed you."
Felicity smiles against his mouth. "I missed you too," she says, and then adds: "But...the janitor's closet?" She sounds doubtful, but she's a little out of breath and her body is still pressed against him, and he honestly doesn't care where they are right now, as long as she keeps touching him.
"I've been thinking about you all morning, and unless you want me to ravish you in front of Ms. Lewis and everyone else in the room, the janitor's closet is our best option right now."
"Oh," Felicity says, all breathless and her eyes are wide and dark, pupils blown wide, and she keeps looking at his mouth.
When she kisses him again, all intensity and desperation and want, Oliver guesses he's maybe not the only one who's been frustrated by this spending time together but not touching each other thing. After a little while, Felicity slides one hand under his jacket, snaking it up under his shirt where it's gotten untucked, pressing her palm flat against his back, right above his belt, and Oliver makes a really embarrassing moaning sound. Felicity smiles against his mouth and moves her hand over to his side, right above his hip, her thumb stroking the sensitive skin on his stomach in this way that's driving him crazy.
Her body is warm and soft against his, and he moves his hand forward, his fingers brushing against her collarbone. Oliver drops his hand lower, going slow, and Felicity arches against him, making a quiet noise of encouragement as he flicks open the first two buttons on her shirt then skates his hand lower, over the soft swell of her chest, his fingers brushing up against the soft, silky fabric of her bra. Felicity's heart is pounding under his hand, and she flexes her fingers against his side, pressing her hips into his, and Christ, everything about her is just so amazing.
He's not sure if she pulls him back or if he nudges her forward, but suddenly they're bumping against something and there's a crash, a cluster of mops and brooms clattering to the floor behind them, and they jump apart, startled, both of them breathing heavy.
Oliver's eyes have adjusted to the dim light in the closet, and Felicity looks a little dazed, her glasses askew and her shirt untucked and half unbuttoned, and there's no way he's going to be able to make it through the rest of the day without doing this again.
