⁂ ⁂ ⁂
Sooo, he might've kinda fucked up? Just a little bit?
Not, like, completely fucked up. But he's managed to make Felicity angry and confused and that kinda counts as fucking up in his book.
Damnit.
Truth be told, Donna's words had rattled him.
At first, he'd wanted to protest, shoot down all her objections to a possible relationship with her daughter and tell her that there was nothing to worry about. But then her words had actually caught up with him, finally registering in his brain.
And suddenly he hadn't been able to say anything.
Because she was right. God damnit.
While her warning itself had already irked him, it was the fact that he hadn't once thought about the possible repercussions for Felicity's life before that conversation that had really pissed him off. He'd been so blinded by all the light she'd brought into his dull life, too caught up in his self-imposed hiatus, that he'd forgotten that this isn't actually his normal life.
No, his normal life is being gone from home for months at a time, movie premieres, interviews, photoshoots and a perverse number of paparazzi following his every step, trying to snap the next big money shot.
How could he even think about imposing that life on Felicity?
She deserves so much better. She deserves a guy that is there for her, supporting her in everything she does, instead of adding another stressful part to her life in the form of a long-distance relationship.
Fuck, why didn't he think of this sooner?
It had been too good to be true. He should've known better than to trust the effortless time he's had with Felicity. It was bound to blow up in his face at some point.
He still doesn't know how long it took him, but once his brain had processed Donna's warning he'd quite literally run away, leaving the sleeping blonde alone on her couch.
An unusual behavior Felicity had immediately questioned him about the next morning after waking up without so much as a note explaining his sudden absence (and also after he'd let three of her calls go to voice mail).
She was worried and he can't blame her for that. He would've probably reacted the same way if the tables were turned. But at the same time, he didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know what to do about their friendship and his more than friendship-y feelings for her. He still doesn't.
He's avoided her all week, safe for the occasional text conversation that was always initiated by her. He'd told her to enjoy her time with her mom and that he was busy with interviews and other promotional stuff for his movie that'll finally premiere next week.
It wasn't exactly a lie. He did have a few interviews scheduled throughout the week, as well as a couple of photoshoots and Facebook Q&As, but he could've made time for her. He hadn't, though, and he also hadn't asked her -or rather, taken her up on her offer- to look after Arcus.
After the second day in a row, she'd stopped offering via text and calls, going so far as showing up at his door. He'd pretended not to be home. A reaction also known as the low point of his entire week.
On Thursday, after four days of minimal communication, dodging calls and not seeing her face-to-face, she'd finally had enough, sending him one last text (Hey, Stranger. Hope you're okay. I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you know where to find me when you're ready to talk. -F) before going radio silent.
A chain of events that has brought him here, torturing himself in the building's gym and contemplating his decisions.
He has to admit that shutting Felicity out and avoiding her wasn't his brightest idea. It hasn't helped him, not one bit. It might've actually made things worse in his head because he hasn't had her calming levelheadedness to silently guide him to a solution.
What is he supposed to say to her? He's pretty sure that "Hey, Felicity, sorry for avoiding you the last few days, but I kinda realized that I'm in love with you, but then made the unilateral decision that we shouldn't be together even though the mere thought of not seeing you makes me physically sick" wouldn't go over too well with her.
Suddenly, all the awards he's ever won mean jack. He's not sure he could act like nothing is wrong the next time he sees her. And even if he manages to pull it off, he's pretty sure she would still call him out on his weird and distant behavior all week long.
Damnit!
As if his silent conflict and the physical exertion aren't torture enough already, his phone suddenly lights up with an incoming text. From Felicity.
Of fucking course.
For a full minute he stares at the screen, his punishing running pace slowing down to a more forgiving jog, trying to decide whether to ignore the text or not.
In the last text she'd sent him yesterday she'd told him that he should come find her when he's ready to talk, leaving the ball in his court. So if she's breaking her own rule now that has to mean that it's about something important, right?
Fuck it, he thinks and jumps off the treadmill, landing on wobbly legs as he opens the unread text.
Arcus just showed up at my place. Might wanna check if your door is locked. –F
No greeting, no how are you, no rambling, just straight to the point. She's definitely pissed at him.
And what the hell is his dog up to again?
There's no avoiding her now.
Groaning, he picks up his towel and with a churning stomach makes his way down to Felicity's apartment after a quick pit stop on his floor to see that, yes, his door is indeed wide open.
She takes only a few seconds to open the door after he knocks, definitely not enough time to prepare for the sight in front of him. He's pretty sure his brain short-circuits. And his heart stops. And he stops breathing. All at once.
Is he staring? Fuck, he's totally staring.
He just can't help himself though because it's been too fucking long since he's seen her –and whose fault is that, a taunting voice inside his head asks— and she looks absolutely stunning in a very short black dress that ends mid-thigh, with a plunging neckline and really, really revealing cutouts on the sides that show off her creamy skin. Even her wet hair and make-up free face can't distract from her breathtaking beauty.
When he finally gets his reaction back under control he doesn't miss the way her eyes quickly rake over his sweat-drenched body with a glint of lust and appreciation, before she pastes on a strained smile. "He was scratching on my door and when I let him in he just skipped right into my bedroom and onto my bed. He actually growled at me when I tried to move him. Stubborn little guy," she grumbles before whirling around and adding, "Wonder where he gets that from."
He wants to retort something witty, maybe even snappy, to that little jab, but once again his brain freezes and any words die on his tongue when he sees the back of the dress. Or more precisely the lack thereof, because, fuck, there's only a few straps of black material crossing here and there, revealing a glorious amount of her skin. Skin that he wants to run his hands over, exploring every inch of-
"Are you coming?" she calls over from her bedroom.
Almost.
He shifts uncomfortably on his feet, suddenly glad that he has his towel with him to put in front of his growing erection. Fucking libido.
He walks extra slowly, thinking of the most disgusting and unsexy things he can come up with on the spot as he wills his body to calm down. This is so not the time to make things even more awkward by openly lusting after the woman he's kind of decided he can't have. Has he decided that? His body has yet to receive the memo.
Her bedroom is a complete mess. The door to her walk-in closet wide open, shoes scattered all over the floor and dresses haphazardly thrown onto her bed, and ruling over it all from his prime spot on Felicity's bed is his dog.
"Arcus, come," he orders sternly, hoping that his dog will just obey and end this quickly so he can go and fantasize about ways to take that dress off of Felicity in the privacy of his own apartment.
Arcus barely lifts his head in response before pressing his nose into the fabric of one of the dresses he's lying on. Traitor.
"Yeah, I already tried that," Felicity sighs from where she's standing in the doorframe to her bathroom. "I gotta get ready, but let me know if I can help," she says with a small smile before turning back into the other room.
Oliver lets out a long breath, absolutely hating the almost tangible rift between them. She's cold and distant and he really can't blame her. He's given her no explanation whatsoever for his behavior and completely deserves getting the cold shoulder from her now. Doesn't mean he has to like it, though.
He tunes out the sound of the hairdryer in the adjacent room and moves closer to the bed. "Come on, buddy, we gotta go home."
No reaction.
"Arcus," he tries again, his tone more insistent as he stalks closer. When there's still no reaction from his dog he crouches down in front of the bed, bringing himself to eye level with him. "I know, okay? I know I fucked up and I know that I need to apologize, but now's not the time. She's about to go on a date and doesn't need this shit right now. Don't look at me like that, man." Good god, he's actually going crazy.
Arcus actually holds his gaze for a few seconds before heaving his body into a standing position on the bed, making Oliver think he actually managed to talk sense into his dog, but instead of jumping off the bed, Arcus turns around and plops back down onto the bed with a grunt, his butt turned towards his owner.
Seriously?
Oliver grinds his teeth together, shaking his head slightly at the little bastard's antics. Sometimes he's way too much like an actual human being.
"Going well, I see?" Felicity chimes and steps closer. He hadn't even realized that she'd switched off the hairdryer.
"Yeah," he sighs and stands back up. "If this is what having a pubescent teenager is like, I'm not sure I ever want kids."
That elicits a chuckle from her, making him turn to face her once more.
"Oh," he breathes out when he takes her in, gesturing at the blue dress she's donning now. "You changed?"
She looks down, smoothing a hand over the vibrant fabric. "I'm still in the trying on stuff phase of date prep. I think the black one was a bit too much for a first date."
Right, the date. With another man. Stab me in the heart, why don't you?
"Excited?"
"I guess," she says with a weak smile, not meeting his eyes. "More nervous, to be honest. It's been a while since my last date and with everything that happened last week I'm kind of still on edge."
Oh wow. He's such an insensitive asshole.
Amidst all of his own insecurities and doubts he'd completely forgotten about her asshole of an ex being back in town. She'd literally just confided in him, telling him about the fear that this Cooper guy still invokes in her after all the horrible things he did six years ago. And what does he do? Like the great friend that he is, he was so caught in his own head that he never once thought about how she must be feeling right now. No, instead he'd basically abandoned her in the aftermath to deal with everything on her own.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"How… uh… how are you doing with everything?" he asks, really looking at her for the first time since he stepped into her apartment tonight. Without any make-up to mask her tiredness, he can see dark circles under her eyes. And it's so obvious in the way her posture is a little slumped that tells him that even if she says she's okay, it'll be a blatant lie. She looks drained and defeated, and nothing like her usual confident self. Has she lost weight? Damnit.
Her lips turn up for just a split second into a half-ass smile. "It's been… rough. You know, with having my mom here and juggling work and setting up searches for Cooper… It was a lot to handle." She shrugs and pastes on a fake smile. "But luckily I'm blessed with great friends, so that's a plus. Cait and Iris have helped a lot. They actually convinced me to talk to my lawyer to see if we can find enough admissible evidence to turn things over to the feds. It's all a bit difficult with him erasing every trace of his old identity. We'll see how things work out."
And guess who wasn't there to help her through it all?
"Felicity," he whispers, even though he has no idea what he can possibly say to make things better.
He almost lets out a sigh of relief when his phone starts ringing in his pocket with Tommy's custom ringtone. He doesn't really wanna talk to his (former?) best friend right now, but anything is better than seeing the mixture of sadness and disappointment in her eyes with no way of making her feel better, so he shoots her an apologetic "I gotta take this" and hightails it out of her bedroom.
He's barely reached her doorway when he hears a mumbled "Good to know that you still pick up the phone for other people". He slams his eyes shut, but doesn't stop walking.
"Hey, Tommy," he greets the other man.
"'Sup, Ollie?" Tommy asks as cheerful as ever.
"Ya know, promotion keeps me busy."
"Right, right," he drawls. "How about you take a night off and get drinks with me?"
"I'm not really in the mood to go clubbing tonight," Oliver answers truthfully, thinking back to all the trouble that 'getting drinks' with Tommy has led to in the past.
"I didn't say anything about going to a club, man," his friend immediately assures him. "Just drinks. Maybe dinner. Come on, Ollie, I haven't seen you in forever. It's about time we talked again."
He's right. It's been more than a month since they've last spoken to each other during that unfortunate evening when Tommy had been a complete dick to Felicity and him.
This might actually be the longest time he's gone not speaking to his friend. With Felicity coming into his life he hasn't really missed him that much, knowing that whenever Tommy Merlyn is around there's a good chance of getting into trouble and/or waking up with a massive hangover.
But who is he to deny someone a second chance? Maybe Tommy's behavior that night had just been fueled by the copious amounts of alcohol and whatever was going wrong in his own life. Maybe he'd just been frustrated and had made the unfortunate decision to unleash his feelings by being a complete dick. Maybe with a little distance and time to look back at it, he'd realize that he'd been wrong.
Second chance it is then.
"Okay, yeah, let's do it," he finally agrees, wondering if this is a bad idea.
He hears Tommy whooping on the other end of the line, making him grin. "Awesome! Meet me at Table Salt in an hour?"
"Sure. See you in a bit, man."
He shoves the phone back into his pocket and trudges back into Felicity's bedroom. The bathroom door is closed and Felicity is nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's doing her make-up in the awkwardness-free zone of her bathroom. That's probably for the best, he thinks darkly, feeling completely helpless in the newfound uneasiness between them that's completely his own fault.
With a deep sigh he moves to the door separating them and knocks hesitantly. "Felicity? I'm gonna head out. Thanks for letting me know about Arcus."
There's a short pause before she answers, "No problem. Have a good night."
God, he just hates the strained cheerfulness in her voice, sounding nothing like her usual bubbly, happy self. In large parts because he's been a complete douchebag this past week.
"Thanks," he replies, sounding equally forced. "Have fun tonight. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
He's pretty sure she says, "Not gonna hold my breath" before she raises her voice. "Kay. Bye."
Wow, she's really good at this passive aggressive shit, he thinks with a frown. But yeah, he totally deserved that… and more.
He runs a hand through his short hair in frustration, walking over to the bed where Arcus is still holding his ground.
"Buddy, I have absolutely zero nerves to do this right now, so you'll either get up or I'll carry you the whole fucking way back to my apartment," he warns his dog, pointing his index finger at him.
After getting no reaction from his stubborn dog –did he really expect one?— he wraps his arms around the canine, scooping him up into his arms, ignoring his low growl of disapproval.
Has he always been this fucking heavy? Someone's going on a diet soon.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
It was definitely a surprise when Tommy had suggested to go to Table Salt to get drinks, the gourmet restaurant being a far cry from their usual haunts. But hey, maybe this is a good sign. Maybe Tommy is finally growing up.
Now, here's to hoping that fate isn't a cruel bitch tonight and lets him run into Felicity on her date. Wouldn't that be the icing on the cake?
"Hey, man, glad you could make it on such short notice," Tommy greets him from his place at the bar, pulling him into a quick hug.
"Couldn't say no to a drink," Oliver says with a wink, giving the barkeeper the sign to get him the same drink as his friend.
"Bad week?"
"Ehh, you know, just a lot of work. This promo stuff is keeping me pretty busy and after a couple of hundred interviews of getting the same boring questions over and over again I'd rather sit through an entire dinner with my parents."
Tommy chuckles and holds up his glass. "Hope tonight will give you some much needed relaxation then."
They clink glasses and Oliver savors the slight burn of the whiskey as it slides down his throat. "How did that project of yours turn out? Mom told me you were stuck in negotiations last week."
"Didn't go that well. Talks are on ice for now until they get their heads out of their asses," Tommy grunts in dismay. "Sorry about missing your party, by the way. I sent two gorgeous lingerie models in my stead. Figured you'd at least get to have some fun if you had to endure a night at the mansion with your parents. I didn't hear of any casualties, so it must've gone okay at least."
"Well, my parents were… my parents," Oliver shrugs, earning himself an understanding nod from his friend. "Something came up with Felicity and we actually left early, so my time with them was pretty limited."
Tommy sets his glass down with a frown. "Felicity? The nerdy, blonde chick you were banging last month? She's still around? Damn, I knew I should've gotten in on that action."
No apology for his beahvior on the horizon then.
"Tommy," he growls quietly. "She's my friend. Don't talk about her like that."
"Or what? Gonna kick me out again?" the man in question scoffs, but holds up his hands in defense after seeing the dead serious look in his friend's eyes. "Fine, man. I'll stop. Don't punch me."
A beat passes, both of them nursing their drinks before Tommy blurts out, "So you really haven't fucked her?"
"Tommy!"
"Why do you keep her around then? Or better yet, why is she staying around? Is she blackmailing you?"
"For god's sake, Tommy. We're friends. That's what friends do. They hang out together." Tommy looks like he's about to protest. "Friends, Tommy. Nothing more, nothing less."
Well, that was a blatant lie. On a normal day they're more than friends, or at least, more than any other friendship he's ever had, including Tommy. He trusts her completely with basically every aspect of his life. He never has to worry about her calling the paps or using all the very deep and private conversations they've had over the last months to make a quick buck from some gossip magazine. No, his Felicity is pure and good-hearted and would never even think about doing anything that could hurt him or their trust in each other.
What the hell did he ever do to deserve having her in his life?
"Okay, okay, I got it," Tommy assents. "But you must admit that it's been eerily quiet when it comes to your sex life. Be honest, when was the last time you fucked a girl?"
Too damn long.
"Why do you even care?"
"Because I'm your best friend and it physically hurts me to see you endure a dry spell from hell like this," Tommy tells him, putting one hand dramatically over his heart. "Which is why I got a solution for you, buddy."
Oh, no. This can't possibly end well.
"Do I even want to ask?"
"You don't have to because I'll tell you anyway," he grins, clapping Oliver's shoulder excitedly. "So there's this chick at my new gym, one of the instructors actually."
"Stop right there, man," Oliver warns. "You do remember why you changed gyms in the first place, right? Did you learn nothing from that?"
"Oh, shush," his philandering friend waves off his objection. "Just because they couldn't handle the fact that I was sleeping with three of the instructors should not be grounds for asking me to leave."
Oliver just curves one eyebrow in silent challenge.
"Ugh, fine, whatever," Tommy sighs. "Anyways, this chick is pretty hot and she's a yoga instructor, so I've already seen how fucking flexible she is. At first, she was playing hard to get with this whole lesbian shtick, but once I activated my charm mode, buttering her up with flowers and talking and that kinda shit, she totally fell for it and agreed to get dinner with me."
Oliver can only gape at his friend in stunned shock. Is he fucking serious? Is he really boasting about putting on a play to get this poor woman to go out with him? Why the fucking hell are they even friends anymore?
"I really, really hope this is one of your sick jokes."
"Oh, come on, dude. You know how it is here. I'm just so bored," Tommy actually whines. "These women in Starling are so fucking boring. If I say jump they ask how high. It's nice to know that I can always get a quick fuck in whenever I want, but there's no challenge. You know I love a good challenge."
"So you're just using this woman for your own personal amusement? You're better than that, Tommy." Is he, though?
"A few years ago you would've jumped at a chance like this," he counters with a knowing smirk. "She doesn't know who I am. Do you know how awesome it is to just start off fresh? Without chicks flinging themselves at me for my money or because they hope to make it to Page Six? She's making me actually work for it."
"She doesn't know who you are?"
"Nope. I used my old alias there."
Oliver barely resists the urge to rub his hands over his face in frustration, suddenly a hundred times more tired than just ten seconds ago. "This is all gonna blow up in your face when she finds out. These things never end well."
"What's the worst that can happen? She'll say 'fuck you' and leave. Big deal. I'll find someone else to keep my bed warm tonight," Tommy shrugs.
This man is seriously incorrigible.
Wait, what did he say?
Tonight?
"Woah, wait, Tommy," he interjects quickly, horrified of what's to come. "Please tell me you didn't drag me into this with you."
"It'll be fun! Just like old times."
"You seriously want me to third-wheel your date?" He can't be serious.
"Nah, man, I got you," Tommy boasts. "She's bringing someone for you. Just keep that friend busy so I can lay on the charm and we'll be outta here in no time on our way to my apartment."
"I'm not gonna be part of this," Oliver protests and gets up from the bar stool, carelessly throwing a fifty dollar bill on the counter.
"Too late, they're here," Tommy says with an unapologetic grin, jerking his head towards a small blonde making a beeline for them, closely followed by another blonde in a very familiar blue dress, eyes ablaze with confusion and horror.
Oh. Hell. No.
This is gonna be long night.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ARROW ⁂ ⁂ ⁂
Tonight was supposed to be a good night. A fun night out with one of the very few not work-related friends she has here in Starling City.
She was supposed to have a nice dinner with her friend and a guy she's never met, but who was hopefully fun to hang out with, at least for the duration of the meal. And hey, if he was nice and funny, she'd be absolutely open to extend the night and go get some drinks.
Anything to get her brain to accept that her silly crush on Oliver would never turn into anything real. Because apparently now he doesn't even want to spend time with her anymore.
He's been so fucking weird and distant this past week and she has no idea why. He's avoided her like the plague, dodging her calls and texts. She's pretty sure he even pretended not to be home one night when she'd had enough of his sudden dick behavior and knocked on his door.
Through his sparse texts he'd told her that he was really busy with all his promotional duties for the new movie that's set to premiere next week which would've been an acceptable excuse had he not also declined all of her offers to look after Arcus. He hasn't done that even once in the months they've known each other.
So, yeah, all of his closed off and tightlipped behavior had pissed her off beyond words.
They may not have known each other for a very long time, but they've still always been very honest and open with one another, even if that led to saying, "I'm not ready to talk about it." At least that told her where she stood. This silence from him and shouting into the void from her is just confusing and frustrating.
Did she do something wrong? Did she say something that made him turn away? Did she drool on him on her couch and he's grossed out now? What the fuck happened?
Having that same question stuck in her head all week long with no answer in sight –because the only person who could shed some light on the situation is doing everything in his power to avoid her—had worn her down.
So she'd made a resolution yesterday to stop going after him and instead let him figure out how to get his head out of his ass on his own. That had worked for all of thirty hours until Arcus had showed up at her door and she'd been forced to contact his stubborn owner.
Safe to say that when Oliver had rushed down –coming right down from the gym in all his sweaty, muscle-y glory, mind you— their interaction had been painfully stilted and awkward and she hated every single second of it. But she still hadn't gotten an explanation, so she'd gratefully seized the moment when he'd gotten a call, remaining in the safety of her bathroom until he'd left.
She'd finished getting ready, willing her mind to focus on the impending date with some stranger. By the time she had to leave her apartment to meet Sara for pre-dinner drinks, she'd actually managed to be pretty excited for what was to come.
And then fate decided to be a motherfucking pain in the ass by creating this whole situation.
Felicity can't believe her eyes when she walks into Table Salt and immediately spots Oliver Queen –because, come on, he's Oliver Queen— and his dickhead friend over at the bar. She doesn't even have time to think about how awkward this whole blind double date will be with Oliver sitting a few feet away, a spectator to the whole thing. Nope, no time for that because Sara lets out an excited giggle and starts making a beeline for the handsome duo.
Abort mission! Abort mission, her mind is screaming at her, but her feet don't get the memo and still carry her over to the threesome. With a completely fogged up mind she finds herself helplessly gaping at Sara who's throwing her arms around Tommy in greeting, trying her hardest not to look at Oliver.
Lance Lott my ass!
"Sara, this is my friend Ollie. Ollie, meet Sara," she hears Tommy make introductions, judging by his chipper tone he hasn't seen her yet.
"Oh, wow," Sara breathes out shakily. "Oliver Queen. Never thought I'd get the chance to meet you." She turns around and grabs Felicity's hand, dragging her to her side. "Lance, Oliver, this is my friend Felicity."
An awkward silence engulfs the little group, a stark contrast to Sara's happy voice.
Oliver finally clears his throat. "Yeah, we… uh… we know each other."
'We know each other', really?! No 'we're friends'?
Sara whirls around to face her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "You know Oliver Queen?"
Felicity quickly pastes on a smile. "Well, knowing is such a broad term. We're… just neighbors."
Yup, that classification hit him right in the gut if his slight wince and pained eyes are anything to go by.
"And you know Lance, as well?"
She turns her full attention to the man in question, the same man who'd called her a bitch, a gold digger and a floozy within ten minutes of meeting her for the first time. "I don't know Lance, but I have had the very unfortunate pleasure of meeting Tommy Merlyn. Spoiler alert: he's a dick!"
Tommy's somewhat pleasant smile slips off his lips, icy blue eyes shooting daggers in her direction. How inappropriate and frowned upon would it be if she slapped him right here and now?
Before Sara has a chance to react, he grabs her hands and drags her a few feet away with a mumbled, "Let me explain."; which leaves her alone with Oliver standing right there in front of her. Great! Because the evening doesn't suck enough already.
"Hey," he croaks out after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, that she definitely didn't use to try and eavesdrop on the hushed conversation happening a few feet away, praying to god that Sara will slap the shit out of the little lying bastard.
Yeah, he looks about as uneasy as she feels. "Hey."
"This is a bit unexpected," he chuckles nervously, shifting on his feet.
She gives him a tightlipped half smile. "That's one way to put it."
He steps closer, hesitantly bringing up a hand to cup her face. "I'm sorry for how I acted this week, Felicity," he whispers, and he's close enough that his hot breath ghosts over her cheek.
She slams her eyes shut for a second, fighting her body's need to melt into him. "You could just say that you don't wanna be friends anymore instead of giving me the cold shoulder for no apparent reason, you know."
His fingers twitch against her skin. "That's not… God, that's not what I want. I just…," he trails off, running his tongue over his lips, searching for the words. "Can we talk, like, really talk later when we get out of here?" His big blue eyes are pleading with her and once again her brain isn't strong enough to withstand him.
"Yeah," she agrees in a whisper. "That'll probably be sooner than later because there's no way Sara will let Tommy's dishonesty fly."
Oh, how wrong she is about that. She doesn't know what the hell Tommy said to her friend to worm his way out of the situation, but when the two rejoin them just a few seconds later they're all smiles, arms slung around each other.
So for some fucked up reason they're actually sitting down to eat.
Damnit, Sara, stop thinking with your pussy and start realizing that he's a complete dick and probably just wants to go all "wham, bam, thank you, ma'am" on you.
Maybe now that they've determined that "Lance Lott" is (probably) not some sick serial killer, she can bail on this shit show and go home, right?
But then there's Oliver who keeps glancing at her over his menu, his eyes full of hope and maybe a smidge of excitement, and she actually finds herself not wanting to leave, because if she tunes out Tommy and Sara this is kinda nice. Being out and about with Oliver, sharing a meal in an actual restaurant that doesn't have the word 'belly' in its name is something that she's not used to, but apparently has been secretly craving.
Once again that little flame inside of her, the one that is stoked whenever she's near Oliver, awakens, and for a few precious seconds she lets herself imagine what it would be like to go on an actual date with Oliver. Would he choose to take her to Table Salt as well? Or would he cook up something for them and drive her to a romantic spot to have a picnic far away from any other distractions?
Don't go there, Felicity, a little voice warns her, you'll only get hurt. Look at how he's made you feel this week.
She rips herself out of those dangerous thoughts, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation going on around her.
"How did you two meet?" Tommy asks once the waiter has taken their orders, and he almost sounds genuinely interested.
"Felicity goes to the other gym I work at and we met right after I moved here last year when she took one of my classes," Sara explains happily, grinning at the other blonde.
Since Felicity isn't buying into Tommy's act of actually giving a shit, she decides to steer the conversation in another direction. "So when did you come up with the name Lance Lott?"
Much to her glee, Tommy chokes on air and coughs a few times all the while glaring at her. "Can't figure out what it means, blondie?" he spits out.
"Oh, I've figured it out. It's not the wittiest pun, after all," she assures him sweetly. "I asked you when you came up with it."
He just continues to glare at her, not saying a word, so Oliver jumps in to fill the tense silence, "We did a play in middle school about the legend of King Arthur. I played Arthur and Tommy wanted to play Merlin for obvious reasons, but when he didn't get the part, he took on the role of Lancelot. We always made jokes about the roles because a Queen played the King and the nickname kinda stuck with me throughout high school. And because calling Tommy Lancelot was kind of a mouthful we shortened it to Lance." He huffs out a small laugh and shrugs, "I don't know. It's a stupid story, but the names stuck. Later, when I got some success and more public scrutiny I sometimes used the name Arthur King to check into hotels or reserve tables, and Tommy did the same with the name Lance Lott."
Tommy grins wistfully. "Those were the times, my friend. Nobody could stop us back then."
"Oh, yes, we've all heard the stories," Felicity chimes in, happy to see that she was once again responsible for wiping that stupid smirk off his face. "But I guess money gets you a free pass on a lot of things, huh?"
Tommy grits his teeth and turns to his friend. "Tell me again why you keep her around? I'm failing to find any redeemable qualities."
Sara swats his arm lightly, probably thinking he's just joking. "She's the best, Tommy. Once you really get to know her you'll never wanna let her go again."
Felicity smiles warmly at the other blonde, flattered by her compliment.
"I agree," Oliver says beside her in a low voice, almost bordering on a whisper.
She's saved from having to react beyond the deep blush on her cheeks when the waiter arrives back at their table with a bottle of wine.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
The rest of the evening progressed rather smoothly, even though she couldn't refrain herself from sending a few barbs Tommy's way which he sometimes commented on in a very PG fashion and sometimes just ignored. By the time dessert rolled around she was actually considering the possibility that he might really be serious about Sara and didn't just wanna use her for a roll in the sack. And even if that was his ultimate goal, she couldn't exactly keep Sara from making the choice of going home with him.
She'd already tried to warn her about Tommy's less than respectful behavior during their first meeting when the two women had excused themselves to the bathroom, but Sara had taken it in stride and told her that she knew what she was getting herself into. So maybe she's just looking for the same thing? Maybe she just wants to enjoy being wooed a little bit and then be content with some rebound sex with no deeper feelings involved?
"We're gonna head out," Tommy announces after paying the check, standing up and holding out his hand for Sara.
"Right," Felicity says hesitantly, but gets up, too, pulling Sara into a hug. "Are you really sure about this? Dig would be really happy if he could do something other than sitting stoically at the bar. Kicking Tommy's ass would make him super happy." And me, too.
Sara chuckles at her almost desperate offer. "Nah, I'm good, Smoaky. Trust me, I'll just have some fun with him tonight," she assures her with a devious wink and pulls away. "Thanks for looking out for me. Do you need me to send Dig after your boy toy?"
Felicity shakes her head at the term and chuckles. "We're good, but thanks. Call me tomorrow?"
"I will," Sara says and turns to Oliver. "It was nice meeting you and you seem like a decent guy, but if you hurt her, I'll personally break your legs."
Oliver stares after her with wide eyes as she walks away with an arm slung around a giggling Tommy.
"Ready for your ride home, Miss Smoak?" Diggle asks cheekily, suddenly appearing right next to her, knowing full well how much she despises it when he's so formal.
"I am, Mr. Diggle," she shoots back with a smirk and turns to Oliver. "Can we give you a ride?"
"Yeah, that would be great," he replies with a small, hopeful smile.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
She spends the first few minutes joking around with Dig who's in the passenger seat of the town car, letting one of his new employees drive. Oliver is quiet, but she can see his eyes darting back and forth between them, always lingering a second longer on her. And yeah, her treacherous body is totally reacting to the way his eyes move languidly across her small frame every now and then.
When her conversation with Dig dies down, she turns her body more towards him, her head tilting a little to the side while she allows herself to really look at him for the first time all week. He looks good, of course he does. But when she looks a little more closely she can see the rings under his eyes, giving away how tired he really is.
"You okay?" she asks, lifting her hand and smoothing her thumb over his temple, losing the fight of not touching him.
He basically melts into her touch, letting his eyes fall shut and exhaling a deep breath. "Long week," he sighs, his eyes fluttering open again. "I'm sorry for shutting you out."
"We'll talk when we get home," she promises, her thumb stroking soothingly over his skin.
He nods, a beautiful smile blooming on his lips. Maybe the first genuine smile all evening.
He's about to say something when she sees bright head lights that her brain informs her are approaching way too fast. For just one second, time seems to slow to a halt and she wants to scream and warn their driver, but she doesn't even have time to open her mouth before a massive force of power barrels into the right side of the town car, accompanied by the deafening sound of metal hitting metal at high speed. She feels her body being jerked around by the unexpected forces before everything goes black.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
She comes to with a gasp, her eyes flying open, as her body screams in agony. Her head is pounding and she's having trouble breathing. That can't possibly be a good sign.
She's cold and wet, rain dripping down on her from the dark night sky. She moves gingerly, her hands scrambling for purchase but only finding cold, hard asphalt beneath her fingers. Why is she on the street?
Where are Oliver and Dig? Are they still in the car? Were they hurt in the wreck?
Despite her contacts, her eyesight is swimming with the pounding headache throbbing everywhere in her skull, making it near impossible for her to find her bearings.
A big shadow falls over her and with the little clear vision she has she can make out a burly man towering over her, dressed in all black.
Voices are finally starting to register in her brain. One is Oliver's, the other one is also male, but with a heavy accent she can't place.
They're arguing, that much is clear, but while the other guy sounds almost eerily calm, Oliver sounds absolutely desperate and frantic.
"I promised you that I'd make you feel my pain," the other man says, voice deep and menacing. "Today is the day I'll take the person you love from you."
"Noooo," Oliver screams and from the corner of her eyes she can see him trying to scramble over to her. His suit is completely drenched from the rain and there's something red on the side of his face. Oh god, is that blood?
"I always keep my promises, kid," the other man says and lifts his hand, and suddenly she's looking down the barrel of a gun.
Time slows down, while her brain processes what is about to happen. She vaguely hears Oliver scream her name in utter despair, still trying to close the distance between them even though they all know that he won't get to her in time.
She closes her eyes, not wanting this stranger and his gun to be the last things she sees, so she focuses on Oliver. She remembers the first time she saw him when she stepped on the elevator. She remembers his stunned look when Arcus had snuggled up to her. She remembers his warm and comforting embrace.
And then a single gunshot rings through the cold night before everything goes quiet around her.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂