"Your lipstick is… places other than your lips," is the first thing Roy says when they let him in the room. "And you have sex hair. It's… disturbing. I'm disturbed. It's a good thing you're a billionaire, Oliver, because therapy doesn't come cheap and I'm not paying."
"Killing you would be free," Oliver points out with a tight, forced smile.
"I do not have-" Felicity starts before spying her own reflection in a mirror. "Oh my god. How do I have sex hair when I didn't even have sex? That feels unfair somehow."
"Therapy. So much therapy," Roy says, not quite drowning out the sound of Oliver's breath catching in his throat.
"Was there something you needed Roy?" Oliver asks gruffly.
When Roy opens his mouth to respond, Oliver cuts him off instantly.
"Other than therapy, that is," Oliver clarifies.
"Yeah. Waller called Sara. Her people got tied up with something. I think literally. They won't be here until tomorrow," Roy tells them.
"The hell they did," Oliver bristles. "Waller's playing games. Why did she call Sara instead of me?"
"Dunno," Roy shrugs. "I'm guessing she didn't want to deal with your angry voice, but I could be wrong."
"It's fine," Felicity cuts in. "I'm not going anywhere right now anyhow."
"That's the other thing…" Roy said wincing.
"What other thing?" Oliver asks, his voice edgy at Roy's preemptive discomfort.
"Laurel says she's bought us 'til morning, but Bryce is gonna bring Felicity downtown for questioning. And he's prepared to file charges against her," Roy answers hesitantly.
Felicity's nerves must be showing at this revelation because Oliver pulls her against his chest and holds her tightly to him. Or maybe it's his nerves. Either way, he's suddenly holding her like he has no intention of ever letting her go. That, at least, is sort of great.
"You aren't going to jail," he tells her into her hair.
"What are you going to do, Oliver? Swoop into the station with your hood on, put some arrows in Bryce and rescue me from the hands of the police?" She asks like it's a ridiculous notion.
From the way he freezes she can tell he's thinking it over, though. She's pretty sure he doesn't hold the same opinion of the idea's ridiculousness.
"No, Oliver. That's not a plan. We aren't doing that," she informs him.
"It's not my first choice," he hedges.
"It's not any choice," she says, pulling away from him slightly. "We're not solving one problem by creating a dozen more, remember?"
"Depends on what problem it is," he responds evenly.
"Oliver," she starts in protest.
"They can't have you, Felicity. I won't allow it."
"Laurel's a really good lawyer, Oliver," Felicity reminds him. "I have faith in her. And Bryce is counting way too much on circumstantial evidence and public opinion. They can arrest me. But they won't convict me. I'm not going anywhere."
"Look, I gotta go meet up with Sin about some stuff," Roy says, shifting the conversation. "But, Oliver, Sara wanted to talk to you about what went down at Merlyn Global... or maybe something about the League. I dunno, I wasn't really paying attention."
"You're a great messenger, Roy," Oliver tells him dryly.
"She's back?" Felicity asks.
"Yeah. Been back like half an hour. She's in her room," Roy tells them.
Felicity blinks in surprise and glances toward a clock in the kitchen. Oh. Oh. There was a lot more kissing happening than she'd realized, apparently.
"All right," Oliver says. "We'll go see what she needs."
"Actually, Felicity says. "Unless she needs me to, I'd rather stay here for a bit. It's been… a crazy day so far and I'd really like to change into something frumpy and blast some bad music for a bit. These walls are soundproof right? It seems like they'd be soundproof."
Oliver's face does a weird thing at that comment until she remembers… oh, right… his father's one-time love-nest. Yeah…
"Nevermind. I'm sure they are," she mutters.
Roy has the nerve to laugh.
"I don't like leaving you on your own," Oliver says uneasily.
"Oliver. I'll be in a locked penthouse suite of a building you own with security you employ and you'll be in the room next door. I'll be fine," Felicity points out with amusement. "Besides, I'm alone at night, right? This is just like that only I'll be awake to see if someone tries to get in the door."
"You were alone last night," he tells her weightily, his gaze locked with hers. "Doesn't mean you'll be alone tonight."
Her brain sort of short-circuits at that. She possibly stops breathing.
"Oh god, I'm gonna go," Roy says uncomfortably. "I'm glad you two are… over your issues or whatever but this mush is gonna kill me."
Neither Felicity nor Oliver actually say anything as Roy leaves, but Roy probably prefers it that way at this point.
"So, you'll come back after you've talked to Sara?" Felicity asks after a moment.
"Yeah," he confirms. "I'm not… I don't want you to think I'm rushing you or pushing anything. That's not what I meant. I just… I won't sleep tonight if I'm next door wondering if you're okay and thinking about Bryce and the Triad and Merlyn and the media. I'd just like to be with you. If that's okay."
It's as unsure and fumbly as she's ever seen him and it strikes her suddenly that he's nervous. Her heart flops at that and she honesty loves him a little more for it.
"That's more than okay, Oliver," she replies, biting her lips together to keep her smile from totally taking over her entire face.
"Yeah?" He asks on a sigh of relief.
"Yeah," she confirms, rising to her tiptoes to kiss him. "Now go see what Sara needs so you can come back to me and we can curl up on the sofa and not think about everything going on right now for an hour or two. Possibly with ice cream."
"I like the sound of that."
"Me too."
He kisses her again before he goes and she's left standing with her fingers touching her lips like she can't actually believe any of this is real.
This is legitimately the craziest weekend of her life.
She changes quickly, not sure how long Oliver's chat with Sara will take, selecting some yoga pants and an old M.I.T. shirt. Someone somewhere would be horrified at her first-evening-in-with-her-new-guy attire. Surely it violates some rules written up in Cosmo at some point. But she's not trying to impress Oliver. She'd rather be real with him. And right now? Her need for comfort-clothes is totally real.
She's pulling her hair back into a ponytail - because sex hair is totally unacceptable outside of a bed or sofa… or, okay, maybe on occasion a car - when she hears the door open again.
"That was fast," she says, turning toward the door.
But it isn't Oliver standing there.
No. Wrong Queen.
"Thea," Felicity says with no small amount of surprise.
"Who the hell are you and why is Malcolm Merlyn lying to save your ass?" Thea demands with zero preamble.
"Thea, I… Where have you been? It's been five months. You just disappeared. Do you have any idea how worried people were?" Felicity asks.
"I'm sorry?" Thea asks, arms crossed as she strides into the middle of the room like she owns it. Which, you know, she sort of does. "We've met like… twice? And you think I owe you an explanation?"
"Maybe not," Felicity allows. "But I think you owe one to Roy. And I know you owe one to Oliver."
"Wow do you suck at minding your own business," Thea bites back. "How about you keep your nose out of my relationships with my brother and my ex-boyfriend and instead we talk about why the hell Malcolm Merlyn is confessing to being the Arrow when I know for a fact that he isn't."
"Why don't you ask him?" Felicity asks.
"Um… because he's in jail?" Thea says looking at her like she's crazy.
"Um… yeah, but I'm pretty sure he still has visiting hours," Felicity points out. "And you're Thea Queen. You have like more money than most small countries. Money buys access, right? Not that you should even need it since you're family and all, but still."
"What did you just say?" Thea breathes guardedly, her arms falling to her sides.
It takes a moment for Felicity's brain to catch up with her mouth. But when it does… well, shit. That's not something she was supposed to know, was it?
"Um… money buys access?" She tries weakly.
"Oliver told you that Malcolm Merlyn is my father?" Thea hisses angrily.
"Actually, if you want to get technical about it, she told me," Oliver's voice comes from the doorway.
"Oliver… What?" Thea asks, looking to her brother with obvious confusion.
"It's a long story," Oliver tells her. "Felicity was looking into some financial things for Walter with the company. She tripped upon some evidence mom had buried, doctors she'd paid off, things like that. She came to me with it."
"I can't believe this," Thea says with a huff of surprise.
"It doesn't matter now, Speedy," Oliver replies. "Where have you been?"
"I… Italy. I told you that," Thea responds with an over-insistent tone that sort of screams she's lying.
"With Malcolm?" Oliver asks.
"I don't have to explain myself to you, Ollie," Thea insists. "I needed to get away from here. I needed a fresh start. You agreed with me on that."
"Malcolm Merlyn is not a fresh start," Oliver counters.
"Maybe not," Thea agrees. "But he's not the Arrow either. I'm not here to stay, Ollie. I'm here to find out why my father, the only parent I have left, is taking the fall for something he didn't do."
Oliver's eyes dart over to Felicity who has been somewhat conspicuously quiet. But then, she hasn't had much desire to insert herself into the middle of Queen sibling drama. Franky, she's going enough drama of her own these days.
"We don't know, exactly," Oliver says measuredly.
"He's covering for someone. I want to know who and I want to know why because he couldn't possibly have been busted kissing your assistant over there the other night when he was in another country with me!" Thea insists.
"You're right," Oliver tells her.
"Oliver…" Felicity says, her tone warning because she really isn't sure about the look on his face right now.
Oliver looks to her briefly but says nothing before looking back to Thea.
"Malcolm wasn't the one kissing Felicity the other night," Oliver continues. "I was."
Thea startles at that, blinking like she can't make sense of what he's confessing to.
"You were," Thea repeats in a way that isn't a question.
"Yes," Oliver confirms.
"You're the Arrow," she states.
"Yes," Oliver confirms again, looking like he's bracing himself for her reaction.
Felicity's still standing off to the side, not wanting to intrude on the moment between the siblings, but it's Thea who draws her into everything. The younger girl looks to her as if she's looking for confirmation. No. Actually, that's not right. She's looking at Felicity like she wants her to tell her it's not true.
Felicity isn't sure who she feels worse for right now. Oliver or Thea.
"He's done… so much good, Thea. He's helped this city so much," Felicity tells her, taking a stilted step forward.
"I didn't want you drawn into this, Thea," he tells her, pulling her attention back to him. "I know my word might not mean much to you right now. I've lied to you a lot. But if you believe anything, please believe I've lied to you to keep you safe."
"All this time?" Thea asks, looking stunned and lost all at once. "All those lies you told that I knew couldn't possibly be true, all the times you flaked out on me or showed up late… you were out helping people? Saving people?"
Oliver is tense and hopeful and just watching Thea because he can't seem to find words to reply. Felicity can though.
"He was," she confirms with a small smile and whole lot of pride.
"You're a hero, Ollie," Thea says, wrapping her arms around him with so much affection that Oliver can't do anything but blink in surprise as he breathes out a stunned sigh of relief and lets his arms close around her. "Thank you."
In a lot of ways, Felicity feels sort of like an intruder on this moment between the Queen siblings, but it's also sort of beautiful to watch and she can't help but be taken in by the relief painted across Oliver's face as he catches her eye. He deserves this. Definitely. Absolutely, he deserves this. Thea's reaction could have gone any which way. She knows that. But this is the best of all possible worlds and Felicity is so incredibly grateful for it.
"Does… Ollie, does Malcolm know you're the Arrow?" Thea asks when she pulls back, blinking with worry up toward her brother.
"Yeah. He does," Oliver admits.
Thea's shoulders sag at that and she backs up a few steps. The guilt on her face reminds Felicity more of Oliver than anything else she has ever seen of Oliver's sister.
"He's doing this for me," she says, looking devastated. "So that I don't lose you. He's taking the fall for me. It's not about the Arrow at all."
"Thea, I really doubt it's as simple as that," Oliver says carefully.
"Why didn't he tell me?" She says, seemingly not hearing him. "About you, about his plans, about any of this? Why leave me in the dark?"
"I don't know," Oliver tells her. "And, Thea… I don't like not knowing."
"I want to be mad at him," she says, blinking hard without really looking at anything. "For lying to me. For convincing me I had no one else to turn to, no one else I could trust. But then… he does this and he saves you and I just don't know how to feel."
"Wary," Oliver tells her. "Wary is how you should feel. Because you're right. It doesn't make sense. Even if he's doing this in part for you - and maybe he is - Malcolm Merlyn is never entirely selfless and he is never without a plan. There's something here we aren't seeing."
"I really hate mysteries," Felicity mutters to herself, pulling Thea's attention toward her again.
And the way Thea is looking at her sort of makes Felicity squirm. It's like she's really noticing her for the first time. Felicity feels very awkwardly like she's being judged. Then? Thea smirks.
"So… Ollie…" Thea says, her voice slightly sing-songish as she looks back toward her brother. "Felicity's your executive assistant. She clearly knows all about you being the Arrow. You've been busted by the press trading some awfully intimate looking lip-locks. Is there any part of your life that she here isn't a vital part of?"
"No," Oliver responds, his lips twitching into a little smile as his eyes dart toward Felicity. "There's really not."
"Uh huh," Thea pronounces with a self-satisfied look. "Felicity… I do think we're going to have to get to know each other better."
Felicity's aware enough of the roller coaster of revelations and emotions that Thea's been through since walking through her door to recognize that the younger woman is clearly looking for a distraction, something she can control to pull her attention away from her father's actions and her brother's revelations. Still, Thea Queen is a little intimidating under even the best of circumstances.
"Sure," Felicity agrees lightly. "We should have lunch or something. You know, as soon as I finish serving my time in the big house."
"What?" Thea asks, looking a little surprised.
"You aren't going to jail," Oliver tells her. "We won't let that happen."
"Why would she go to jail?" Thea asks confused.
"Because they're convinced she's been helping the Arrow," Oliver replies.
"To be fair, I am," Felicity acknowledges.
"Really not the point," Oliver responds.
"It's a little bit the point," she shrugs. "But I'm still in favor of no jail time for me. Sara told me about the difference between a shiv and a shank, but that's poor preparation and I still don't understand the whole pocket thing."
"Felicity, I'm going to talk to Waller, see if she can pull some strings. I'll talk to Nyssa, see if she has any influence. I will do anything and everything to keep you out of jail because that is not an option, okay?" Oliver says firmly.
"Or… I could talk to my father?" Thea suggests quietly.
"What?" Felicity asks.
"Look, we don't know what he's really up to. You're right. And Ollie, you're right that we should be wary. I get that," Thea admits. "But if he's doing this even a little bit for me, if I have any pull over him at all, maybe I can get him to deny her involvement. Maybe he can convince them he was acting alone. Or, maybe I can at least get an idea of what his plan is."
"I'm going with you," Oliver informs her.
"Like hell you are," Thea snorts. "You think he's going to talk to me with you there? I'm his daughter and you don't have any chips to play against him with at this point. Plus, do you really want yourself linked to him in any way when he's already given himself up as the Arrow? Because that seems like a bad idea."
"She's right," Felicity speaks up, much to Oliver's displeasure.
"Fine," Oliver responds through gritted teeth. "Then you take Roy."
Thea goes to object but Oliver cuts her off.
"He's been helping us, too, Thea," Oliver informs her. "For a long time. I trust him and he can protect you if he needs to."
"He's on the team," Felicity clarifies.
"There's a team?" Thea asks with added bewilderment.
"He goes with you," Oliver insists again, ignoring the questions. "If you see Merlyn. You take Roy."
"Fine. Fine," Thea says waving off his concern. "I will bring my vigilante side-kick ex-boyfriend with me when I go see my father who is masquerading as my brother - the actual vigilante superhero - in prison. Does that make you happy?"
"Not remotely," Oliver sighs.
The rest of the day passes by in a strange blur of moments that progress from nerve-wracking anxiety to dream-like joy and back again. Laurel comes by to discuss legal strategies at one point, in what has to be one of the most stressful conversations of Felicity's life. But after she leaves, Oliver pours them some wine, pulls Felicity onto his lap and they curl up on the sofa watching old episodes of Saturday Night Live. It's sort of blissful with his fingers stroking along the skin of her arm and the way he keeps dropping kisses onto her shoulder at random intervals as she laughs at the tv. It's fantastic right up until Roy comes by to let them know that Felicity's apartment has been vandalized.
The day is thoroughly exhausting.
By the time night falls across the city and everything calms down just a little bit, Felicity honestly just wants to crawl into bed and pass out. With Oliver, though, so that's a whole new kind of exciting.
"Do you snore?" She wonders aloud absently as he exits the bathroom in just boxer shorts.
And oh my God had she seriously been having actual idea-shaped thoughts a moment ago? Because that's so not happening right now. And from the sly smile on his face as she rather incredibly blatantly checks him out, he completely knows that.
"Would you kick me out of bed if I did?" He asks.
She scoffs out loud at that because no, she is absolutely not kicking him out of her bed for any reason. Her bed? Is it her bed now? She's slept in it like once. But this is sort of her room. Does that make it her bed? He kind of technically owns it. Does that make it his bed? Is it maybe their bed? Oh wow that thought sends her brain in new directions. The bed, she decides. It's not her bed or his bed or their bed, it's just the bed.
"Eh," she shrugs as if she's on the fence. "Depends on if you're a blanket hog, I guess."
He's not, as it turns out. He sort of hogs her instead.
Oliver is, she discovers, incredibly cuddly in his sleep. And, after a far, far better night's sleep than she had any right to expect given the current circumstances of her life these days, she wakes up to him curled up behind her and literally wrapped around her. His legs are tangled with hers, his arm is snug around her waist and he's pressing soft kisses into the curve where her shoulder slopes up to her neck. It's awesome.
"This is so much better than my alarm clock," she sighs on a yawn, stretching her neck out a little more to give him easier access and lacing her fingers with his across her stomach.
He chuckles and the rumble of it tremors through her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. If she makes a noise that sounds rather embarrassingly like a whimper when his stubble scrapes further up her neck and his mouth sucks lightly just behind her ear, she figures there's really no one in the world who can blame her for it.
But it definitely has an effect on Oliver.
He groans back, his fingers stroke along the line of her hipbone and his teeth catch at her earlobe. Her whole body is instantly on edge. It would be startling how quickly he can do this to her if he hadn't inadvertently been doing it for years. She arches further and presses back against him and oh... that is not an arrow in his pocket.
"Oliver," she gasps as his hand travels slowly up her belly to the edge of her ribs under her shirt.
She's struck by the sudden realization that she's not touching him which is absolutely totally unacceptable, but also slightly difficult to achieve given that he's pressed fully against her back. She turns in his arms until they're face-to-face and kisses him soundly, running a hand down his chest to his abs, tracing their ridges until he breaks their kiss to suck in a breath, wild and uncontrolled.
He's off kilter for a moment and she takes to opportunity to press against his shoulder until he's lying on his back and throws one leg over his hips so that she's straddling him. Her hair drapes over one shoulder as she leans down to kiss him again and his hands can't seem to quite decide on where to settle. They start with her face, skim down her arms, drop to her thighs then wrap around the curve of her hips.
She presses her lips to the hollow of his throat and nips at his collarbone with her blunt little teeth and his hands tighten reflexively against her hips as he groans. It's her new favorite noise. Or, possibly, just her favorite noise. She's not sure she's ever had a favorite noise before. But really that's not the point. Oliver undone is absolutely her favorite thing since ever.
"You're going to kill me," he mutters, his fingers sliding down the backs of her thighs and damn it why hadn't she worn shorts to bed?
She grins up at him, her chin resting lightly on his breastbone, feeling impish and so incredibly aroused that she's actually momentarily forgotten anything beyond the confine of their bed. Er… the bed. Whatever.
"But what a way to go, right?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.
He dives his hands into her hair and surges forward to kiss her soundly. Somehow he's sitting suddenly, her still straddling him, and they're pressed chest-to-chest. It's maybe the most intimate moment she can imagine with them both fully clothed. And why is it exactly that they're both still fully clothed? That's sort of unacceptable. He's shirtless, but still… that's sort of his normal state. That doesn't count as unclothed.
She's seconds away from taking off her own shirt. Literally, her hand is on the hem. Because oh my god she wants him. Wants to feel his skin against hers, wants to know every inch of him and watch him break apart under her or over her or whatever. She doesn't even care how, she just wants. But then there's a damned knock at the door and the real world hits her like a blast of ice cold water and that just sucks.
"One minute," she shouts before groaning in frustration and kissing Oliver one last time.
He hisses and flops back onto the bed as she eases off of him and as annoying as the intrusion of the real world is, she's got to admit it's a little satisfying to know she has this much effect on him.
"Come on," she says quietly to him. "You'd think you were the one going to jail today or something."
"Don't even joke about that," he tells her, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bed as he looks at her seriously.
"Sorry," she says, meaning it. "Gallows humor. And, as much as it pains me to say this - and, believe me, it does - you should go put on some pants."
He sighs.
He sighs, but he kisses her and disappears into her bathroom.
This is for the best. Even if she has to actively remind herself of that.
She waits until the bathroom door is shut before she slips a bra on under her shirt and answers the door to find the lesser evil of the two police officers she's come to be acquainted with standing in the threshold of her sanctuary.
"Interrupting something, Ms. Smoak?" Captain Lance asks with a horribly knowing raised eyebrow.
Felicity feels sort of like she just got caught having sex by her dad. Which is ridiculous because a) she didn't actually get to have sex, much to her dismay, and b) her dad is considerably less present in her life than Captain Lance. Or virtually anyone else she knows, up to and including celebrities she's never met and the barista who always writes 'Felicia' on her coffee cup.
"What? No. Of… course not," Felicity says skittishly.
"Your hair is… disheveled," he says, sounding completely disbelieving.
She glances toward the mirror. Crap. She has sex hair. Again. Without having had sex. Is this just a thing he does to her now? Proximity to Oliver equals instant sex hair? That's going to be incredibly inconvenient at board meetings.
"I… haven't brushed my hair yet. It's called bedhead, Captain Judgeypants," she says defensively.
Really, her righteous indignation might have come off as more believable if Oliver hadn't chosen exactly that moment to emerge from the bathroom.
"You were saying?" Lance says, shooting her a look that screams I don't believe you and you're smarter than this all at once and she's more than a little annoyed at it.
"Do I need my lawyer, Captain?" Felicity asks.
"Not yet," Lance tells her. "But you will. And when Bryce gets here, you should probably make sure either Oliver Queen isn't in your room or you're looking more… put together. Or both. Bryce is not a dumb man and while some of us might be happy with plausible deniability, hes not. Do I make myself clear?"
"Are you?" Felicity asks, head quirked to the side.
"Clear?" Lance asks in confusion.
"Happy with plausible deniability," Felicity elaborates. "You've got… a whole lot more information about the Arrow than Bryce does. You've helped him. If you've thought about who he is even a little-"
"I don't want to think about who he is, Ms. Smoak," Lance says, pointedly not looking at Oliver. "And I don't want to know. Maybe this city does need the Arrow. There's been times… I don't know if we coulda made it without him. But if I'm thinkin' of him like he is, I can almost justify not slappin' a pair of cuffs on him. Cause all I see's the mask and the bow. If I start think' about him like a person, a man making life and death decisions for other people and acting outside the law, somebody who might have a family that worries about him or a girl who loves him, that's when I start to think I gotta stop him. For him. For the city. There's a reason the police have rules."
"So why are you here?" Felicity asks.
"'Cause it's my job," Lance tells her. "And 'cause maybe sometimes you gotta bend the rules to do the right thing."
"You're bending the rules?" Oliver asks, edging up to Felicity's side.
Lance is far from stupid and the way he can barely stand to look at Oliver at all says a whole lot to Felicity about exactly how well the man is convincing himself he doesn't know who the Arrow is. Plausible deniability indeed.
"I might not know who the Arrow is, but I sure as hell know who he isn't," Lance tells Felicity, ignoring Oliver entirely at this point. "There's no way Merlyn's the Arrow, not just 'cause your sense is… at least marginally better than that, but 'cause it doesn't add up. Merlyn tried to take down the Glades. The Arrow tried to save it. And your people in the Glades? The ones who remember it like it was? They're startin' to point this out, share stories about the Undertaking and the Arrow speeding through the destruction, tryin' to save people. I dunno why Merlyn turned himself in, but all he did was cause confusion and buy you some time."
"Bryce has this figured out?" Felicity asks warily.
"He's got a lotta circumstantial stuff on you and a whole lot of witness statements about the Arrow, but real evidence is pretty flimsy. If he can get you to lie under oath, though…" Lance says knowingly, his voice trailing off.
"He wants to convict me on perjury charges?" Felicity asks incredulously.
"They nailed Capone for less," Lance points out. "And we both know it ain't you he really wants, kid. But he'll take what he can get and use you as bait."
"He thinks he can draw the Arrow out by getting Felicity sent to jail?" Oliver asks.
"Yeah. He does," Lance says, finally levelling Oliver with a look. "An' so do I."
"Thanks for the heads up, Captain," Felicity says, trying to break the testosterone-laden staredown between Lance and Oliver.
Words don't work. There's a weird mix of respect and dislike between Captain Lance and Oliver Queen. They've been complicated since the Queen's Gambit sank, at least. Probably before. It's not like Oliver was ever the best boyfriend to Laurel and that had to have rubbed Laurel's father the wrong way. Maybe that's the real reason Lance doesn't want to know who the Arrow is. He values the Arrow. He respects the Arrow. He doesn't want to have to feel those things toward Oliver Queen. It's much easier not to have to reconcile those things.
Felicity settles her hand on Oliver's upper arm and he blinks, looks to her. Lance does, too. Huh… that kinda makes it like she won their staredown, doesn't it? Go her!
"Laurel will be here soon. Bryce ain't gonna be too far behind her," Lance says. "You should probably wear something… different."
"Thanks for dropping by, Captain," Oliver says in a clear dismissal.
"See you in a bit," Lance responds, walking back down the hall.
"I need to have a chat with security," Oliver grumbles as he closes the door. "Police or not, Lance isn't someone who gets through my doors without me being notified right now."
"It's Monday, Oliver," Felicity points out. "There's a whole lot of people getting through your doors right now."
Oliver winces at that reminder. There are entirely too many people who work at Queen Consolidated.
"This floor is restricted," Oliver points out. "I don't want anyone but our team up here without me clearing it first."
"Fine," Felicity shrugs. "Then talk to Bruce. I'm going to go put on something less obviously pyjamas in the meantime because if I'm about to be paraded in front of the media and questioned by the police all day, I'm going to need armor in the form of the best clothes I own and really fabulous hair. And shoes. With at least three-inch heels."
"Heels are your armor?" Oliver asks with amusement.
"Hey, you have your weapons, I have mine," Felicity smiles.
He kisses her long and soft, one hand on her waist and the other curling around the back of her head, undoubtedly further ensuring she needs to substantial work in order to attain fabulous hair today. She sighs when he finally steps back. At least this is going well today, anyhow. But this isn't all there is to their day. Sadly.
He crosses the room, grabs his phone and dials Bruce while she disappears into the bathroom. The ritual of getting ready for her day is actually somewhat soothing. It gives her something to focus on, an immediate goal. By the time she's done, she looks professional and put-together. In a dark green skirt and an ivory blouse with copper colored nails and shoes. She hasn't taken time to dwell at all on the horribleness of the day ahead of her at all. But it's also killed enough time that there's someone banging on her door.
Yeah.
That's enough to bring the reality of the day back to her.
"SCPD, Ms. Smoak. Open up," calls out Bryce's booming, authoritative voice.
She walks out of the bathroom and stands a few feet from the door to the apartment, not quite able to get herself to move to open it. The way Oliver is looking at her, all mournful and longing and helpless, she hates it. That's not what today should be. Not after last night. Not after this morning.
"I want to protect you from this," he says with so much pain in his voice.
"I know," she responds. "But you don't have to. I can handle this. And you don't always get to be the one doing the protecting. We're a team, remember?"
He shakes his head with a little smile, seemingly amazed by her. He holds her hand gently and kisses her forehead cherishingly and then he lets her go to answer the door.
"Felicity Smoak," pronounces Bryce, as soon as she opens the door, Laurel and Captain Lance both standing behind him looking thoroughly unhappy. "You're under arrest for aiding and abetting and conspiracy to commit acts of vigilantism."
The whole 'right to remain silent' speech follows but she's thrown enough by hearing actual charges listed against her that she doesn't really hear it. She doesn't really hear anything but the whooshing of her own blood in her veins for a very long moment.
"If you agree to come quietly, we won't cuff you," Captain Lance speaks up after a few seconds, his words finally cutting through the pounding of her pulse.
"I'm really not all that good at being quiet," she says without thinking.
Oliver groans and the look on Laurel's face kind of screams how is this my client? Bryce is reaching for his cuffs and Felicity jolts at the sight of them.
"I'm not like… going to cause trouble, though," Felicity clarifies. "I just can't promise to stop talking. I babble. When I'm nervous. Or, well, a lot of the time when I'm not, too. But I sort of am, right now. Nervous that is. Because obviously I am. So, that whole 'right to remain silent' thing sounds lovely and all, but I'm pretty sure it's beyond me. And please don't cuff me because really that's probably just going to lead to additional babble and really terrible news headlines."
It's an awkward enough ramble that even Bryce looks sympathetic for a moment and the cuffs end up put away.
She doesn't look back at Oliver as she leaves with the others. It would be too telling, for one thing. For another, she's half convinced if she did he might hold onto her and refuse to let go.
She's also half-convinced she might let him.
Police are everywhere. Outside Queen Consolidated, blocking gawking bystanders and gossiping co-workers. But she doesn't realize quite how bad everything has gotten until they pull up in front of the police station. Bryce is clearly keen to broadcast his win by arresting her and they are instantly swarmed by the media.
It's considerably more overwhelming than last time.
She spies Roy on a nearby rooftop, masked with his bow in hand, and she thinks she sees Sara lingering in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, surveying the crowd for danger. That barely does anything to quell her nerves though. Cameras flash in her face and everyone is screaming - her name, questions, accusations. It's too much. Too much for her, for anyone, and the only thing that keeps her from a full-on panic attack is the steadying presence of Captain Lance's hand on her shoulder and reminding herself to channel her inner Moira.
But the things the media are shouting at her. They're toxic. They're horrible. And they worm their way under her skin.
"Did you know who he was before he turned himself in? Were you really willingly involved with Malcolm Merlyn?"
"How did he con you into helping him? Was it money? Sex?"
"Were you working with him on the Undertaking? Why did you help murder hundreds of innocent people?"
"Why did you and the Arrow decide to try to destroy the city's poor?"
She breaks at the last one. She can't handle it. She won't. This won't be her life. And it won't be Oliver's. Or Team Arrow's. She won't allow it.
She stops in her tracks and looks the reporter dead-on, ignoring the flash of cameras and the roar of reporters dimming to a quiet murmur.
"What in the world ever made you think there was only one Arrow?" She snaps in frustration.
There's dead silence for a very long beat. Then? The media frenzy surges, a tidal wave of manic reporters and cameramen. The cacophony of noise is unbelievable and the flashbulbs are blinding. Even though he's right next to her, Felicity can barely hear Lance scream to Bryce to get her inside as he tries to block some reporters from impeding their way.
By the time they spill into the police station, Felicity's mind is going a mile a minute. Trying to figure out how they got her to say that, what it's implications are, how to move forward from this. Laurel is by her side staring at her in disbelief and shaking her head. Captain Lance is still outside, handling reporters. But Bryce… Bryce is right there with her and his look is disconcertingly triumphant.
"Well," he pronounces dryly. "You certainly know how to make an entrance. I'll give you that."
