Oliver finds her twirling.

Their underground world revolves and spins and whirls around her. She stops and tumbles straight into his grasp. It's too easy how he can pick her up like nothing. Felicity tucks loose strands of hair back and spews words at him.

She can't focus on him. She wishes that it would stay that way.

He falls into focus, and she can't get it right. She tries to blink back the comment she's made on his strong, strong arms. His ears have already swallowed her admiration, he half admits he likes the pink glow she's shining.

...

Felicity washes up on his mind more than twice. She's wrapped up in the smell of hazel and coffee, and he finds himself on the fence, her scent tugging at his arm. His fingers start to bleed and the metal digs into his palms. The wind kicks up and rushes at him. The wires shake.

He loses his balance and kisses her.

...

He leaves her glasses askew. She brings him closer, pushes herself up, kisses him over and over again. Soft, plush, warm, and pliant, she crashes down on every last of his senses. His ears start to blare and he wakes up. Oliver's stomach drops, and his lungs deflate.

Bitter, he fills his mouth with sugar for breakfast.

Felicity leaves for Central City after reading him his schedule.