This chapter may have gotten away from me a little bit. XD I nearly doubled my average chapter word count. Enjoy the date!
Part Eleven: Get to It, Super-Spy
"So, can I assume from the emergency call to lunch that you saw Slade last night?"
Felicity was trying very hard not to be annoyed at the knowing look on Sara's face. Apparently, she was the only one who hadn't been aware of his little chat with Oliver before it happened. "Sometimes, I totally hate all of you in that not-really-because-I-love-you-but-your-knowing-glances-irritate-me kind of way," she groaned, leaning back from the table as their waiter settled their salads and two glasses of white wine in front of them.
Sara laughed. "Of course you do. If I'm remembering my pre-assassin days correctly, that's exactly how friendship is supposed to work."
"Touché," Felicity admitted, spearing a hunk of tomato with her fork. "I completely forgot he was there this morning and took my shower with the bathroom door wide open." Across the table, Sara choked on a bite of her own salad and began to cough violently.
"He stayed the night!?" she exclaimed in a loud whisper. "I didn't think you'd jump into this that quickly!"
Glancing wildly from side to side, Felicity waved her hands in protest. "No, no! Not like that! We didn't sleep together. Well, we did sleep together, but in the snoring and cuddly drooling-not that I was drooling-way instead of the sweaty, naked, legs shaking kind of way."
"Think he's good enough to get your legs shaking, do ya?" Sara quipped, quirking one eyebrow over the bite of salad on her fork. She fought hard not to laugh aloud as Felicity's face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. "Still adorable." Clearing her throat, she took pity on her friend and turned the conversation back to more serious matters. "So, what's the issue?"
Felicity released a long-suffering sigh. "I really like him." She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration. "Which is obvious. It's just... if he were any other guy I wouldn't have to think about it, you know? But no matter how sweet and caring and insanely attractive he is, there's this looming shadow of his serious crazy murderer time. For all I know, getting me to fall for him is just another part of his master plan."
"Well," Sara reasoned, trading her fork for the glass of wine at her elbow, "there are really two ways you can handle this. You can either keep freaking out because of his history and all of the what-ifs or you can go for broke and do the Felicity thing that we all love you for." Felicity's brows furrowed and she opened her mouth to ask for clarification, but Sara cut her off. "You give him the benefit of the doubt. You see the best in people, Felicity. You believe with everything that you are that people can be better. I envy that most about you, because when everyone else is ready to throw in the towel, you still have a massive reservoir of hope." She drained what was left of her wine and leaned forward, one hand closing over the top of Felicity's on the table. "For reasons I can't really fathom, you're interested in the guy. He's obviously interested in you if calling off a five year grudge match to have a shot with you is anything to go by. If you think you can use your superpower to keep seeing the best in him, I say take that option and go for it."
Felicity chewed on her lip for the entire drive home from Queen Consolidated that night. Through a series of overtly flirty text messages, she and Slade had agreed that he would have dinner ready by seven at her place while she would pick up something for dessert that they could make together. Netflix was primed and ready for an after-dinner movie. All in all, it was one of the better date plans she'd had.
She was lucky that Sara hadn't been scheduled at Verdant that night. The other blonde had graciously retrieved a spare dress that Felicity kept at the foundry for when vigilante activities became an overnight affair. It wasn't much-just a sweet little sundress that could barely pass as work appropriate-but it made Felicity feel better to not be having dinner with Slade in the same stuffy business clothes he'd seen her leave in that morning. She'd even let her hair down from its usual ponytail before she'd left the office.
By the time she put her car in park at her place, her stomach was tying itself in knots. Though the living room lights were shining through drawn curtains, she couldn't see any; sign that Slade was inside. Of course, not seeing any sign was practically a guarantee that he was there. She checked her watch. There were less than ten minutes before seven o'clock and she was sitting in the car like a nervous teenager.
Finally, she forced herself from the car, snagging her purse and the small shopping bag full of brownie ingredients from the passenger seat as she went. The first thing she noticed when she walked through the front door was the pumpkin pie scent of some of her favorite candles. Tilting her head through the archway, she spotted Slade at the stove, stirring a sauce that looked suspiciously homemade rather than the straight-from-the-jar variety she was used to. He'd changed since that morning as well, swapping the worn tank and cargo pants for a sleek black button down and-this was the kicker-an actual pair of jeans. The kind of jeans that had her tilting her head even further to one side while she admired the way they hugged his backside.
"Tight jeans on an ass like that should be illegal," she blurted, her face coloring briefly before she stepped cautiously through the arch. The scented candles were grouped on the lazy susan in the middle of her modest kitchen table, burning happily and comfortingly where someone with a fancier mind might have lit tapers. Slade didn't bother to turn to her, but she caught the twitch of a smile on the corner of his lips.
"I am a criminal, you know," he reminded her, leaning over the pot of sauce to lift the lid off a larger one she didn't recognize and check on the pasta.
See the best, Felicity, she coached herself. "If your continued law-breaking means more tight jeans, I don't think I want you to go straight." Setting the dessert bag on the counter, she paused. "Straight like not breaking any laws, not straight like the sexuality. I mean, not that I would care if you were bi or whatnot, just that I want your sexuality to include me in there somewhere. New train of thought. Where did that big pot come from?"
"My sexuality definitely includes you," Slade commented, finally turning from the stove to look at her. His lips parted at the sight of her and he wet them briefly with his tongue, momentarily startled at her changed appearance. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel he'd tucked through his belt, his eye traveling to her feet and all the way back up to her face at a pace that made Felicity's stomach flip. "You didn't have a pot big enough to make a decent amount of pasta. I made sure it matched your others. You changed."
"Well, yeah," she admitted, fluffing one corner of her skirt in her hand. "Showing up to a date in work clothes just seems rude."
Slade gave her another of his barely-there smiles and gestured toward the table. "Go ahead and settle in. This just needs a few more minutes."
Dinner turned out to be a rousing success that combined some sort of delicious homemade tomato sauce with pasta and tiny bites of breaded chicken. Slade wouldn't let her see the bottle for the fantastic cabernet he kept pouring, claiming that if she liked it that much not giving her the vintage would give her a reason to keep him around. Personally, Felicity suspected that he'd brought some sort of insanely expensive bottle and didn't actually want her to know how much it might have cost. As soon as that suspicion first crossed her mind, she decided that she was going to kiss him for it. It wasn't that she really cared about expensive things versus cheap ones, but the fact that he wanted to treat her with something nice without giving her a chance to feel bad that she couldn't afford it herself? Yeah, he was winning a crap ton of points and he didn't even know it.
He won even more points when she asked where his recipe had come from. "My son, actually." A vague smile crossed his face, and Felicity was able to hide her surprise in the short moment where he drifted into memory. He shook his head and met her gaze, the smile turning a little lopsided. "I'm not sure if Oliver's told you that I have a kid. He's-Christ, the kid's thirteen now." Felicity gave him an encouraging smile. Oliver hadn't told her, but she'd dug up enough in her own searches that it wasn't a surprise. "When he was little, Joe wouldn't eat anything that didn't look like it at least included chicken nuggets. I used to make all kinds of things with bite-sized chicken to get him to try new things." He dropped his gaze from her face back to his plate, spearing one of the nuggets and twining some pasta around his fork. "Chicken parmesan was one of his favorites."
"What about your wife?" No sooner had the question left her mouth than Felicity was regretting it. She tossed her head back, staring up at the ceiling. "Which is a part of conversation I should have eased into rather than blurting it out like a demand after such an adorable story."
"It's alright," Slade reassured her with a chuckle. "We divorced when Joe was three. She didn't like being married to a spy."
"Didn't like being married to a James Bond type? Was she crazy?" Felicity teased. The tension broke, and they returned to a happy banter through one big plate for her and two for Slade. She showered him with compliments, genuinely impressed that he'd found time to be such a good cook between his work for the ASIS, being trapped on Lian Yu, and five years of vengeance.
They did the dishes together, Slade washing ("Can't have you messing up that eye-stabbing neon nail polish." "Watch it. I'll have you know that this doesn't even scratch the surface of my collection of eye-stabbing colors, and you've only got one eye left.") while Felicity dried. She watched him carefully, looking for the perfect opening. It came when he dug out a bowl to start the brownie batter in, his right side in all of its eye patch-y glory facing her. Bracing her heels against the countertop, Felicity boosted herself up to sit on its surface, planting her bottom right where he'd probably intended to set the bowl. Slade turned back to find her both directly in his path and barely half a foot away. Her hand shot out and latched onto his shirt collar, gently urging him closer.
"I've decided I don't wait to wait until the end of the date for this. Deal with it." Using the hand on his collar for leverage and bracing the other against the counter for balance, Felicity leaned across the small gap between them, took a steadying breath, and brushed her lips against his. Slade's entire body went rigid, a sharp intake of breath drawing through his nose. Her neck twinged a bit as she kept up the gentle pressure, waiting for him to move.
The wait wasn't long.
As if from miles away, Felicity heard the-thankfully plastic-mixing bowl hit the floor. Slade nudged her knees apart with one side of his hips and stepped between them, flush against the counter, without ever breaking the kiss. One of his hands found hers at his collar while the other snaked around her back. He pulled back just enough to flash her a quick, happy smile before he kissed her again and the world disappeared. His teeth gave a gentle but insistent tug to her bottom lip, and before she knew it his tongue was sliding against her own. Her fist clenched in his shirt, thoroughly wrinkling the fabric. He tasted a bit like their dinner and a whole lot like something wild, dangerous, and exactly what you'd want on your side if you were in trouble.
It was several, long moments before either of them came up for air. When the desperation for oxygen got to be too much, Slade pulled away and panted down at her. Felicity could feel the flush at her cheeks and the pounding of her heart. "Um... wow." She blinked up at him, one hand coming up to brush her swollen lips. "Like, seriously, wow. You know how they give that great speech about different kisses in The Princess Bride and talk about the one kiss being the one that left all others behind? That kiss was terrible compared to the one we just had." Still flustered, her brain made an attempt to lighten the mood before she could stop it. She held up one hand. "Come on, high five for the world's best first kiss."
Slade burst into loud, rich laughter, but his palm met hers with a gentle smack. "You're too much, you know that?" Placing his hands on either side of her hips, he lifted her down from the counter, making sure she was steady on her feet before he let her go. He dropped a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. "Let's get back to making those brownies."
When asked for details the next day, Felicity would be completely incapable of explaining anything that happened during the process of stirring brownie mix, preheating the oven, and getting the chocolatey goodness into a pan. Where the rest of the evening had been lighthearted and comfortable, there was a tension in the air in the wake of the kiss. She found her eyes drawn to Slade's mouth whenever they weren't focused elsewhere, mentally searching for any reason she could think of to get those lips back on hers. Finally, a snippet of conversation from far earlier in the evening flitted up from the back of her mind. She leaned her hip against the sink, and while Slade bent to put the brownies in the oven she put her plan into motion.
"You know, even though you said your sexuality includes me, don't think that means I didn't notice that you didn't correct me as to whether you were into more than girls. Does that mean it won't necessarily be gross if I have some very interesting fantasies about what happened on that island?"
The grin Slade gave her when he stood back up could be described as nothing less than wolfish, and Felicity felt the tingle of it right down to her toes. He tossed the oven mitt he'd been wearing on the counter, reaching out to tug her closer to him with one hand on her hip. His other hand threaded its way into her hair, and her breath caught as he leaned down until his lips were inches from her own. "I was on that island a long time," he teased just before he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and sweet, but the controlled heat behind it set them both to trembling. Finally, Slade pulled back, his eye half-lidded as it traveled over her face. "If this wasn't our first date I might be tempted to tell you some tales of my sordid history."
Oh, hell no, Felicity's brain screeched. Sure, she could recognize that he was teasing her, but there was no way she was going to sit back and let him believe that she was just going to turn into putty. Well, she might turn into putty, but she wasn't about to go that route unless she did the exact same thing to him. It was her turn for a wolfish grin as she wound her arms about his neck, pointedly ignoring the rush of nerves as he quirked one eyebrow at her over his eyepatch. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him through her eyelashes, a move she knew was guaranteed to get a reaction. The quickening of his breath didn't disappoint.
"I'm pretty sure if we combine the awkward-movie-and-drinks night with two breakfasts, the Chinese delivery you paid for, and two attempts at watching The Avengers we can say we've got at least two dates under our belts besides this one," she reasoned. "So, we can probably bypass all the rules about things we're not supposed to do on a first date." She could feel Slade's heart begin to beat out a fast, irregular rhythm as she pressed herself fully against him, standing on her tiptoes until her lips just brushed his ear. "I should probably tell you that this is the part where you kiss me and we end up making out on the couch like teenagers for a few hours before I kick you out because some things I still won't do on date three and if I don't kick you out I'll end up breaking my own rule." Her teeth closed briefly on his earlobe in a playful nip. "Get to it, super-spy."
The brownies burned.
Neither of them cared.
Sara and Oliver were sitting on a rooftop across the street from Felicity's apartment in full vigilante gear as soon as the sun had completely set. They weren't necessarily spying. The were just making sure that Slade was being completely honest about his motives. Of course, that hadn't stopped them from telling Diggle and Roy that they were going out for a normal couple date night. Both of them figured that the stakeout could technically count, anyway. Sitting on rooftops through the night was about as normal as the two of them were likely to get.
It was nearly one in the morning when both of their ears pricked up to the sound of Felicity's front door opening. They raised identical pairs of binoculars in tandem, focusing the lenses on the small porch across the way. A very flushed Felicity was guiding Slade halfheartedly through the door. Her hair was a mess, and even Slade looked decidedly rumpled. The pair exchanged a series of goodnight kisses, both seemingly reluctant to actually say goodbye. Finally, Felicity tore herself away and backed into her apartment, quipping something that looked suspiciously like 'See you tomorrow' before she eased the door shut.
As Slade walked slowly toward his car, both vigilantes were pleasantly surprised that he didn't seem to notice them at all. They both also noted with internal sighs of relief that he couldn't seem to stop smiling.