Someone to Watch Over You
A/N: I found these in my files and realized I hadn't published them yet here at . I wrote these sometime in the middle of Season 7 when I was excited about Felicity's pregnancy to try my hand at writing shorter pieces. Please bear with me as this is the first time I'm attempting drabbles. I hope you like these, and if you do, I hope you will take the time to comment. Thanks for clicking on this fic!
Drabble 1: Baby in the Bunker
The sound of rapid clicking as her fingers fly over the keyboard of her laptop always works. Better than a lullaby. Oh, she can sing, but that takes longer to put their little Mia to sleep. She knows, because she timed it. Singing keys paired with mommy's breast milk guarantee quick results.
In the past month since Felicity decided to stay at home and take care of Mia full-time until their daughter was, at least, old enough to walk, she has mastered the art and science of breastfeeding while working on her computer. She holds the baby against her chest with her left arm and types on the keyboard with her right hand. When the pins and needles start to prick, she easily switches to the opposite position and resumes work.
She loves spending all day with Mia at home. She has put Smoak Technologies on hold ever since her very challenging first trimester. She and Oliver agreed that his job as Star City's mayor (again) is stressful enough for their young family anyway. She and Mia have settled smoothly into a daily routine, from the morning baths until the evening marathons of kiddie shows and movies when their baby is (always) wide awake – yet another evidence that Mia is indeed the Green Arrow and Overwatch's child. She also loves how she and Mia bond during feeding time, but she just can't stay away from her tablet or her laptop even if what she has to do isn't Team Arrow-related.
She also misses her chair. And her station. Down in the bunker. Where Oliver and the rest of the team are. Right now. She misses the action, the thrill of victory when a street thug or an organized syndicate is taken down. She even misses the agony of defeat after an especially difficult mission. Watching over the team and over the city is still her responsibility, just as much as watching over their baby girl was her number one responsibility now, and she knows it deep down inside.
She is Felicity Smoak. She can do both, and more.
She shuts down her computer, stands with Mia in her arms, still feeding, and goes into the nursery to gather everything she needed, which isn't much. A couple of minutes later, she's got the baby bag in one hand and the baby basket in the other. Mia has stopped feeding and is snugly cradled close to her chest, strapped onto her mother's body in a baby carrier. The six-month-old infant is sleeping soundly, her breathing even and soft against Felicity's breasts.
The elevator doors open and Felicity steps out into the bunker. She blinks, adjusting her eyes to the lighting there. She hears the whirring sounds of the computers, the beating of Dinah's staff against Dig's sticks, and the metallic clanging on her husband's salmon ladder. Her heart soars.
"I can do this," she tells herself as she kisses the top of Mia's head.
Oliver lands on his feet and spots her. He grins proudly.