Chapter title: Tamare et sapere vix deo conceditur
Word count: 7424
A/N: As always, thank you so much for all the comments, kudos, etc.! Keep 'em coming!
Soooo, I had a really shitty week. My phone was stolen and work was just a pain in the ass. The stupidity of some people is just mind-boggling to me. Writing this chapter was also kind of a pain, mostly because I'm really looking forward to the next chap and this felt somewhat like a stepping stone to get there. Despite that, there are quite a few important things happening in this one!
Happy reading!
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Oliver scanned the crowd, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The evening was in full swing, people were talking everywhere around him, some even dancing to the music of a small band on the little dance floor. This was supposed to be the fun part before the auction started. Get everybody relaxed and, more importantly, liquored up before it was time to spend money. Not the worst tactic to go about this.
"The building on the eastern side is clear, heading to the next one," Diggle said over the comms.
Oliver clenched his jaw. Of course they weren't lucky enough to choose the right building on the first try. One down, two to go.
Deadshot was infamous for his superior sniper skills and according to the information Felicity had gotten off his laptop, he had scoped out three buildings close to the Exchange Building where the auction was going on. After a heated debate between Diggle and him, Oliver had finally caved and agreed to be at the party while Diggle searched through the buildings. He'd stowed away his suit and bow in one of the staircases. If push came to shove he was ready to suit up as The Hood.
His eyes zeroed in on a flaming red dress. There was only one person who'd be brazen enough to wear a color like that to this event. Her blonde locks were falling freely over her shoulders. The dress, while not showing too much skin, was accentuating every curve of her body perfectly.
She was standing in a little circle with his mother, sister and Walter. His sister was talking animatedly, no doubt about one of his childhood escapades if her fleeting mischievous looks toward him were any indication. Felicity was throwing her head back in laughter.
God, she was beautiful.
"Maybe if you told her that once in a while she'd stop hating you and busting your balls," Diggle chimed in smugly over the comms.
"Shut up," Oliver mumbled, glad that the other man wasn't around to see the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.
Just then, his mother spotted him and motioned for him to come over to them. Reluctantly, he moved through the crowd and put his fake smile in place when he reached the group.
"The auction starts in ten minutes, how about you two," Moira looked at Felicity and him. "Go dancing."
He could see Felicity's eyes widen and she choked on the sip of champagne she'd just taken. "No, thank you," she managed to say between coughs, before she dropped her voice so only he could hear her. "I'd rather jump off the roof."
Thea patted her back gently, giving her a smug grin. "I think dancing's a fantastic idea. Especially because your nosy reporter friend of the Starling City Gazette is here and she's already cornered me three times in the past hour to get a quote on why you two haven't made any public appearances since the wedding. Shouldn't she be asking you that?"
Oliver watched as Felicity's face grew stony, putting one of her masks firmly in place. "What did you tell her?" She asked, completely ignoring Thea's question.
"That you were enjoying your newlywed status to the fullest extent."
"Thea," his mother chided her.
"What?" she asked, batting her eyes innocently. "I said it was off the record and that she should try talking to the happy couple instead of bothering me." She looked past Felicity. "Which she is apparently going to do right now."
Felicity's whole body whipped around, slamming one hand into Oliver's stomach in the process. He covered her hand automatically with his, which made her look back at him. He searched her eyes, confused to see the mixed emotions swirling through her electric blue orbs.
"Well, isn't this adorable," came her friend's voice from behind them. "I was hoping to ask the two of you a few questions, like how married life is treating you. Are you happy together?"
After a beat, Felicity tore her eyes away from him and fixed her friend with a cool stare that she usually reserved for him. Something was definitely off between these two. As far as he knew, Jennifer Curtis was her best friend and they were inseparable.
"Actually," Felicity interrupted his thoughts. "I was just about to take my husband for a spin on the dance floor."
Before he knew what was happening, she had laced her fingers with his and was dragging him over to the little dance floor where only two other couples were dancing. She looped her hands around his neck.
For a moment, all he could do is stand there and look completely dumbfounded. Sharp fingernails digging into the nape of his neck pulled him out of his stupor.
"Grab my waist, Oliver," she hissed.
He finally looked at her, seeing the apprehension and anger in her eyes that were for once not solely directed at him. Tentatively, he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her a little closer. He was fully aware that countless pairs of eyes were on them in that moment. And why wouldn't they be watching them? Even five weeks after the wedding, their marriage was still one of the tabloids' favorite topics.
"What's going on?" he asked, surprising himself with the soft tone of his question.
Judging by her stunned look, he wasn't the only one who was surprised. "Since when do you care?"
He let out an exasperated sigh. She was right of course. Usually, he didn't let it show that he cared. But he did. That morning he had cared why she had come home in tears, until his jealousy had taken over and he'd accused her of cheating on him. She, of course, had put him in his place, telling him in no uncertain terms that she hadn't cheated on him and didn't plan on doing it in the future.
Her vehemence had surprised him. It had seemed important to her to make sure that he knew that even though their circumstances were less than ideal, she wouldn't step out on him. By telling him that, she'd involuntary admitted to taunting him on his birthday to provoke a reaction. That was another surprise.
One thing their two encounters, first at Verdant and then in the mansion, had taught him about her: she was seriously turned on by their belligerent interactions.
One thing their encounters had taught him about himself: he was seriously turned on by the way she always stood up to him. Never scared to tell him off.
But despite all the animosity that morning, he'd also filed away the little tidbit she'd let slip about herself. She been cheated on in the past. A fact that evoked a powerful reaction from him. More powerful than he'd thought possible. He wanted to know who the bastard was, hunt him down and kill him slowly, administering as much pain as he had caused her.
"Oliver?" she whispered.
"Huh?" he asked, slowly coming back from his thoughts.
"If you hold me any tighter, I'm pretty sure you'll leave bruises."
His eyes snapped down to his hands and surely enough he was gripping her tiny waist tightly with his fingers, having unconsciously tightened his hold on her while thinking about her cheating ex-boyfriend.
"Sorry," he mumbled, loosening his grip and running his fingers over the smooth fabric of her dress to soothe the pain he had caused.
They swayed slowly to the music. "So you're not gonna tell me why you practically ran away from your best friend just now?"
"Why would I?" She questioned, the usual defiance in her voice.
"It might help, you know, to talk about it."
She let out a snort. "What would you know about talking?"
"Not much," he admitted. "But I've been told that it helps people sort through stuff." He let out a sigh. "Look, obviously I can't force you to tell me, but," he halted for a second. "If you want to talk... I'm here to listen."
She tilted her head to the side, searching his eyes intently before saying, "Okay."
He looked down at her, unable to hide the smile that erupted on his lips.
Suddenly, camera flashes were going off around them. Instinctively, Oliver pulled her closer so that her head was pressing into his chest but the new position seemed to be uncomfortable for her and she let her hands fall from his neck. He didn't have time to dwell on the fact that he missed the warmth of her fingers playing with the little hairs on the nape of his neck, because her hands were creeping under his suit jacket, wrapping tightly around his torso. More flashes went off and then all hell broke loose.
A few feet away, Oliver saw Detective Lance dive for Walter, tearing him down to the floor. Only a millisecond later, the first shot shattered the window and hit one of the waiters. Screams were echoing through the now panic-filled room. Police officers were filing in through the double doors urging everybody to get down and away from the windows.
A series of rapidly fired shots sent everybody scattering for the doors, some of them tripping and falling over each other in their haste to get out of harm's way. Oliver had knelt down and pulled Felicity with him as soon as the first shot had been fired.
"We gotta get to the door," she said, panic lacing her voice. Without waiting for a reply, she got up and tried pulling him with her towards the exit.
He didn't even have time to get up before another shot rang through the night. He heard a pained scream that sounded distinctly like Felicity's before he saw her legs buckle beneath her. He heard his own voice yell "No!" while he watched in slow motion as her head hit the marble floor with a sickening thud, his body and his reflexes for once not quick enough to get him over to her position in time.
"What happened?" Digg asked urgently over the comms.
Oliver quickly brought up his hand to his ear to activate the device once again.
"Felicity's been hit." He cowered down next to her, examining her quickly. "It's just a graze but she's still in danger. Bring the car around."
"Oliver, I just finished clearing the second building, which means Deadshot fired from the third one. There are only two exits, we can catch him."
"Diggle, I swear if you don't have the goddamn car ready to go at the service entrance in two minutes I will put an arrow in you," Oliver roared in response.
He scooped Felicity's unconscious body up in his arms, feeling a trickle of warm blood run through his fingers where he tried to apply pressure to the wound on her thigh. With quick steps he made his way to the emergency staircase, glad to find it abandoned. Of course, Starling City's elite would go for the elevators instead of the stairs. With one hand he grabbed his bag that held his green suit from the trashcan and bounded down the stairs, careful to not accidentally slam Felicity's head into the railing or wall.
Once he kicked open the door that he knew led to the service loading dock, he was actually relieved to see their town car waiting for him. He knew how much it must've pained Digg to not even try to go after his brother's killer. But with Felicity's life at stake there was no choice to make.
The drive to the foundry was mostly spent in silence, leaving Oliver entirely too much time to ponder his decision. There hadn't even been one second where going after Deadshot and leaving Felicity's life in the surely very capable hands of the EMTs had been an option. That scared him more than anything. Until now, the mission had always come first. Always.
"Oliver, we're here." Diggle had already opened the car door for him.
He tightened his grip on the still unconscious Felicity and maneuvered her out of the back seat.
"Head back to the Exchange Building and pick up the others," he ordered, somehow managing to punch in the code for the side door that lead directly down to the foundry.
"And what am I supposed to tell them about where you two went?" Diggle barked at him from where he was standing at the car.
"I don't care. Make something up," he yelled back before letting the heavy steel door fall shut behind him.
He knew that he'd get an earful for his behavior tonight but didn't care at that moment. He set down his wife's limp body as carefully as possible on the med table.
Quickly, he gathered all the necessary supplies. Just when he was about to try and wake her up, he finally realized that he was standing in the middle of the freaking foundry. How in the hell was he supposed to explain this to her? He wasn't ready to tell her about his secret identity. Not yet, anyway.
Cursing loudly, he grabbed his bag and quickly changed into his The Hood's get up and turned down the lights as much as possible. He took a mental note to thank Diggle for convincing him to get an actual mask, instead of the grease paint he'd used in the beginning.
Once again, he turned to Felicity. She looked so small and so much younger, laying there in the dim light of the cold foundry. He wanted nothing more than to take a moment and catalog everything about her. The way her soft skin glistened in the semi darkness, the little crease between her brows, the complete and utter peace that was radiating off of her.
But he didn't have time. He knew he had to get the island herbs into her as soon as possible, so he pulled the hood over his head, turned on the voice modulator and moved over to her still body. He hadn't bothered to put on his gloves, knowing they'd only hinder him. His calloused fingers stroked softly over her cheek.
"Felicity," he said. "You have to wake up." He used his other hand to shake her shoulder slightly.
No response.
He tried again, a little louder this time. "Felicity."
She groaned and stirred a little but kept her eyes shut. He ran his thumb over her cheek again. In response, she slightly turned her head, trying to get closer to his hand.
And then suddenly, she came to with a start, grabbing the hand that was cupping her cheek and gasping, "Oliver."
Shit.
He went completely still, not daring to move while he stared down into her eyes that were searching the space around her frantically. His heart was beating in his throat. She'd figured out who he was.
Her eyes came to rest on his concealed face. When she spoke, her voice was a lot more determined than he'd expected after just regaining consciousness. "Where is he?"
What?
He looked at her perplexedly for a moment. "What?"
She sat up then, ignoring his protesting hand on her shoulder. "Where's Oliver? He was right next to me. Oh my God, he's okay, right?" She asked in a rush.
He released a breath of air that he hadn't even realized he was holding. "He's fine. Don't worry about him, we have to worry about you right now."
"No. Where is he? I want to talk to him. And where the hell are we? " She demanded.
He felt something tug at his heart. She was concerned for him. Like actually concerned. Who would have thought that underneath all that animosity there was honest concern?
"Felicity, I need to stitch you up first and you have to swallow this," he told her and motioned to the dried herbs.
"Stitch me up?" she asked confusedly. "And I'm actually very particular about what I put into my mouth and that is not going anywhere near it," she said more determinedly, pointing at the herbs.
Oliver coughed, trying to hide his laughter. What was it about this woman and sexual innuendos?
Her face fell, when she realized what she'd said. "That is so not what I meant," she groaned in frustration. "I was totally pointing at the dried plants and not your..."
"Felicity, please just swallow them." She cocked her head to the side. "You know what I meant."
"Why do I have to... ingest them?" She asked curiously., choosing her words more carefully now.
"They will counteract the effects of the poison."
"What poison?"
Oliver sighed and moved his hand down to her bare knee where her dress had ridden up a little, trying and failing to ignore the electric spark that surged through his body when he touched her. One of her hands automatically shot out to cover his.
"You've been shot with a bullet that was laced with curare."
He watched as her gaze fell down to her thigh. "Holy shit, I've been shot? Wow, yeah, now that you mention it, my leg does hurt a little bit."
"Luckily, it's just a graze but from experience I can tell you that you should hurry up with the herbs."
"What happens if I don't?" She asked, feeding his growing annoyance.
"You'll die a very slow painful death," he snapped before taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean to go off on you." She nodded in acknowledgment. "It will slowly paralyze your muscles and organs. Your lungs will stop working and you will suffocate to death, all while being awake and aware of what's happening. If you'd been fully hit and not just grazed you could be dead already."
She sucked in a breath and stuffed the herbs in her mouth, chewing vigorously. Despite the gravity of the situation, he smiled and handed her the bottle of water.
While she swallowed and gagged a few time while trying to swallow the dried leaves, he started preparing the suture kit and laid out all other supplies.
"Oh God, that was nasty," she said and made a face. "But better than dying."
He hesitated for a second before saying, "I need to take a look at the wound and..." He trailed off.
"It's kinda high up my thigh. Yeah," she replied thoughtfully. "Do you have a blanket or anything?"
Oliver quickly took stock of everything around him. No blankets. But..
"I can give you a hoodie. I know it's not much but you can at least cover up a little bit."
"That'll work," she replied with a smile, accepting the offered gray hoodie to place it in her lap. "Do your worst."
He hesitated for another second before he placed his fingers on the skin of her knee again. Ignoring the spark it once again sent through him. Slowly, he moved up the red fabric of her dress, carefully peeling it off the wound where the blood had already clotted.
Her hand shot up to grip his shoulder while she sucked in a shaky breath.
"Sorry," he mumbled. After surveying the wound he continued, "It's still bleeding a little. I'll clean it and then I'll put in two or three stitches, okay?"
She cleared her throat. "Yeah, sure, do what you have tooooooooo. OW!" She protested when he poured a healthy amount of peroxide over the open flesh without warning. "Holy mother of... I swear if you do that again I'm gonna punch you in the face."
"I'd give you an anesthetic but I don't have any down here," he said apologetically.
"Where is 'down here' anyway?" she asked through gritted teeth while he used some gauze to clean the edges of the gash.
"It's my... base of operations, I guess."
"I really hope you don't live here. It kinda smells like something died down here."
"I don't live down here. This is gonna hurt," he said and pierced her skin with the suture needle for the first time.
She slammed her free hand against her mouth to muffle her scream while gripping his shoulder almost to the point of pain. "Oh God, please stop."
He stilled his movements and looked up. Pain was etched into every feature of her face, her whole body tense. It actually hurt him to see her like this. Bringing his free hand up to cup her face, he stroked her cheek lightly with his thumb, catching the stray tear that escaped her eyes.
"Can't you just knock me unconscious?" Her tone held a certain amount of playfulness that broke through the pain but he wasn't completely sure if she was joking or not.
"Try to breathe through the pain. Take deep breaths," he suggested.
He knew the sheer amount of pain that stitching up wounds without any sort of anesthetic could bring out. He'd had to endure a fair share of them on and off the island. It was a gruesome procedure but it had to be done.
In the end, it took him four stitches to close the gash, trying very hard to be as neat about them as possible in an attempt to not leave a nasty looking scar. By the time he finished the second stitch, she had pulled him close enough to bury her head in his shoulder, her sobs muffled against the leather of his jacket.
When he'd dressed the wound, he carefully pulled her dress down to cover it. "If you think you can get up, I'll bring you home."
She let out a deep sigh before pushing away from his shoulder. Her tears and mascara had left dark stains running down her cheeks and for the second time today her eyes where red from crying.
"Thanks," she shot him a smile that looked somewhat sad. "It's nice to have someone care."
His body went rigid. "I'm sure you have people that care about you," he said carefully, trying to keep the guilt and pain out of his voice.
"Right now I'm not so sure. I had a fight with my best friend, I barely know the family I married into, and sadly enough that's still better than the family I was born into, and my husband... I don't think he cares," she answered sadly.
Right then, he was ready to reveal to her who he was. Hug her, kiss her, never let her go. Tell her that he did care.
She let out a humorless chuckle. "You know, I remember this one time where someone else was making fun of me and he just sat there and did nothing."
Oliver winced. Yeah, he remembered that, too. He'd been a complete dick that night.
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- January 2013 -
It had been a week since their first date. He'd spent most of the time since then fighting. Fighting with his mom. Fighting with Walter. Fighting with Thea. Fighting with the lawyers that were drawing up the contracts. Even fighting with Diggle.
The only person he wasn't fighting with was his future wife. Not yet. That was mainly because they hadn't seen each other since that fateful day last week. The day that, as it turned out, would change his whole life.
Now, he was sitting opposite of Felicity at Tablesalt. Before they'd come here, they'd met at the mansion to sign the pre-contracts that manifested their relationship. Oliver couldn't help but feel like he'd sold his soul to the devil. Only that the devil came in the form of two very determined business women.
For the past week he'd tried, unsuccessfully so, to find a way out of this arrangement. But his mother hadn't budged at all. She was hellbent on making this deal work, telling him they'd be foolish to pass up an opportunity like this. Even his suggestion to wait until the other company was actually bankrupt and take it over then for a significantly lower price was shot down quickly.
Moira had played the responsibility card, reminding him of his obligations as the heir to Queen Consolidated. Even going so far as to remind him of his father's wish for him to get more involved in the company and take on more responsibility. That had seriously pissed him off.
What the hell did she know about Robert Queen's wishes for his son? She hadn't been there when he had asked his son to right his wrongs just before he'd taken his life to safe him and Oliver was pretty sure he hadn't just been talking about Queen Consolidated.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Oliver Queen."
Oliver snapped out of his thoughts. Shit.
"Max Fuller," he said and looked up at the man standing beside their table. "How's your club doing? Judging by the amount of people lining up outside of Verdant on a regular basis, there can't be too much going on at Poison," he said smugly, only partly because Fuller knew him as the playboy and more because he seriously disliked the guy.
"Don't worry about my club, Queen, it's going great," the other man shot back angrily before settling his gaze on Felicity. "Queen, man, what happened to you on that island? Did it damage you so much that you can't score pretty girls anymore? You have to settle for this?" He scoffed, giving Felicity a once over.
"But hey, if you like the whole naughty librarian thing. Whatever floats your boat, right? I don't really see the appeal though. That innocent act is totally overrated," he motioned at her. "I for one wouldn't sleep with her if she was the last woman on this earth."
Oliver's head snapped around to face her. Her eyes had widened in shock, no doubt because of the pretty nasty insults. He leaned back in his chair, another smug grin directed at the other man. Oh, Fuller was in for a ride.
A second passed and then another. Nothing happened.
He finally turned back around to her. Instead of giving Fuller hell for his comments about her, she sat there a little slumped in her chair, eyes directed stoically at her lap.
After a few more seconds, Fuller chuckled. "Well, I knew you were a dick, Queen, but this is a low point even for you," he said and stalked off without another word.
Oliver tried and failed to not wince at his words. Suddenly angry, he looked at the woman in front of him again. "Why the hell didn't you say anything?"
Her head shot up and surely there it was. The anger he'd already become accustomed to. "Are you serious?" She asked, her voice only wavering a little.
"Of course," he threw back at her. "I accidentally kill one of your stupid computers and you have all hell raining down on me. I mean, seriously? SWAT Teams and bomb squads? And how the hell did you make it look like my bike was used in a bank robbery? They still haven't released it from the impound," he grumbled.
"Well, I doubt that you have to walk, so suck it up," she replied dryly and got up from her seat.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Anywhere, as long as it's away from you." With that she stormed out.
Oliver cursed and threw a few bills on the table before chasing after her. For such a petite woman she was surprisingly fast on her feet. She'd almost made it a block before he'd managed to catch up to her. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around.
"Fuck off."
He let out a humorless chuckle. "See, there's the attitude I was expecting to hit Fuller like a brick wall and yet you said nothing. How is it that I'm the only target on your anger shooting range?"
"Leave me alone," she hissed and tried to break free from his grip but he only held her tighter.
"No," he said slowly. "I want to know why you turn into the biggest bitch when I do or say something you don't like but you let him get away with what he said without so much as batting an eye."
"Because his words hurt," she roared. "Because I've been hearing stuff like that for years. Because that's what dozens of newspapers and magazines will say when our engagement is announced next week. Because all of Starling City will wonder what possessed you to decide to marry someone like me."
Her voice was now close to the breaking point. "And you know the worst part about this? Max Fuller and all those others are right. If it weren't for the contracts we just signed that say that either family stands to lose billions of dollars if one of us backs out of this commitment we wouldn't be standing here. Hell, you would've probably never even talked to me in the first place.
"I know that we're both in a situation that we definitely don't want to be in and that it's simply not right what our mothers are expecting of us. But you know, during dinner I thought 'hey, maybe we can do this for five years and be civil about it'. But then, Fuller said those things about me, about us, and you just sat there and did nothing. I get that you don't like me but what does it say about both of us when the man I'm going to marry in less than three months doesn't even bother to stand up for me?"
A stray tear made its way down her cheek and that rattled him even more than her words. She twisted her hands out of his grip and stalked off into the night.
He stood frozen in the middle of a street somewhere in Starling City. Somehow, this infuriating, frustrating woman had mastered the art of stunning him to his core in the shortest amount of time.
So, yeah, he could've said something to defend her, but in all honesty, he had really expected her to fight her own battle and that he'd probably be called a chauvinistic prick if he had come to her help. Until now, he hadn't gotten that damsel in distress vibe from her at all and he wasn't quite sure why it had come out now.
He didn't deny the cruelty of Fuller's words or that he felt a tiny bit of guilt because he had provoked him. But he still didn't understand why she'd been so affected by them. They were just words after all. He'd been faced with public scrutiny his whole life, especially after his return from the island. She grew up as the daughter of a well-known billionaire. Surely enough, she should be used to facing and ignoring the public opinion by now.
He let out a deep, frustrated sigh, running his hands over his face. Not for the first time he had to admit that there were many layers hidden under the feisty façade she usually put up. Not just the highly talented computer expert but also a vulnerable young woman.
Shit. He was such an idiot. He'd already come to this conclusion during their dinner last week, how had he forgotten about it. He was usually good with storing away details about the people around him. But this one had slipped through his fingers.
Yeah, he really felt like a complete dick now.
- End of Flashback -
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"You okay?"
He chuckled in response and shook himself out of the unpleasant memory. "I'm pretty sure I'd be asking you that, with your bullet wound and all."
"Meh," she said and pointed her thumbs at herself. "This girl is tougher than she looks."
Yeah, sometimes she was.
He cleared his throat. "We should go."
He helped her slide off the med table, not missing the shiver that ran through her. Wordlessly he reached around her and handed her the discarded hoodie.
"Thank you." She smiled at him gratefully and he felt another urge to reveal himself to her. "So what kind of car do you drive?" she asked and pulled the hoodie over her head. Of course it was too big on her tiny frame, the sleeves running well past her hands and the hem reaching mid thigh, still showing a few inches of her red dress.
"Actually, I drive a motorcycle."
She did a double take and looked at him with widened eyes. "You expect me to ride a motorcycle with this dress and these heels." She pointed at her admittedly very high black heels. "After I've been shot? No, no way. That has disaster written all over it."
He held back an exasperated sigh. "It's either the bike or a cab. And I would feel much better if you'd just let me drive you home."
He could see the uncertainty etched into her features and she nibbled lightly on her bottom lip in a nervous manner.
"It's safe, I promise," he said as softly as his voice modulator would allow.
She finally nodded her head in agreement. "Okay, let's go." She took a step forward but he stopped her.
"Wait," he rummaged through his bag that was a little off to the side. "I'm sorry, but you have to wear this."
"Are you kidding me?" She asked incredulously, looking down at the tie in his hands.
"You can't see anything that will tip you off to this location, so it's either being blindfolded for a few minutes or I'll finally club you over the head so you're unconscious. Your choice."
She grumbled something he couldn't understand and snatched the tie from his hands. She made quick work of tying it around her head and said, "That's not how men usually use these on me. And just so you know, this is so much less fun."
Oliver's head snapped up. What? Before his mind could conjure any vivid images of just what use she usually made of ties and in which context, her frustrated groan interrupted her.
"Ugh, sorry, still working on the whole brain to mouth filter thing. Let's just get going, okay?"
He nodded mutely, vaguely aware of the fact that she couldn't see him. Slowly, he led her up the stairs and through the empty night club. Even though she was a self-proclaimed klutz, he had to give her credit for only stumbling twice on their way to his bike.
Once he had her settled behind him, despite her constant string of babbling about how she would either fall off or flash the entire city, he turned his head towards her. With a roar he let the engine come to life. "Hold on to me tight, Felicity," he called out over the noise and guided her hands around his torso.
She let out a little shriek somewhere between horror and excitement when he drove off with a start, her hands clutching the fabric of his leather jacket and her head pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.
For the next few minutes, he just drove aimlessly through the Glades, making several sharp turns and even driving in a circle a few times in an attempt to throw off her sense of orientation.
"I swear if you take one more turn I'll puke all over your back. Riding a motorcycle is one thing but riding it blindfolded shifts my penchant for motion sickness into high gear. Pun intended," she complained, her voice muffled by his jacket.
Oliver smirked. "You can take off the tie if you want. We still have about twenty minutes ahead of us and I don't want to find out if I can get puke out of the leather."
She momentarily lifted one hand from where it was still clutching to his jacket and mumbled an "Oh thank God."
The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Since he'd foregone helmets and didn't want to risk anything with Felicity on the bike, he drove much slower than he usually would, using the time to sort through his thoughts.
For the first time, he really had a moment to realize just how scared he'd been that evening. If his time away from home had taught him something it was to think with his head and not with his heart. He'd learned how to make rational decisions based on facts, even it that meant to sacrifice something or someone. Up until now, he had never had a problem with it. Making decisions based on stone cold facts had saved his life and the lives of others many times.
Tonight though, every last ounce of his ability to think rationally had gone out the window. When he'd seen Felicity go down that night, all bets had been off. His vision had tunneled and all he could see, all he could think about was her. No one else in the room had mattered. Not his mother or Thea. Not Walter or all the other innocent bystanders. There had only been one person. Felicity.
The only instinct he'd had was to get her the hell out of there. Get her to safety. No matter the cost. He knew that he'd pissed off Diggle by not going after Deadshot, by ordering him around and asking him to lie to his family. But he'd done what was necessary. He'd do it again in a heartbeat if it meant Felicity was safe and sound.
That scared him more than anything. He'd never felt so strongly about anyone else in his life. Not about Laurel or any member of his family. Yes, he'd go through hell and back for every single one of them but with Felicity it was different. He'd do anything for her. Kill, be killed, he'd do anything without blinking an eye, without asking questions and without any regrets.
He didn't know when it'd had happened but he'd developed feelings for her that were beyond anything he could put into words. Feelings that went beyond anything he could understand. And it was dangerous line he was walking. He'd tried to keep his distance, convinced it would make the feelings disappear or at least weaken them. But it hadn't worked. Despite his anger towards her, he'd felt a constant pull, tempting him to talk to her and explore his feelings for her.
This morning's confrontation hadn't helped him one bit in getting closer to answers. Instead, it had only raised more questions.
Using a back road onto the grounds that he frequently used to sneak in and out at all times of the day without being seen by the guards or his family, he finally stopped in the shades of a big tree near the main entrance of the house. He shut off the engine and climbed off after checking that the hood was still covering his face properly, always careful to keep the bike and Felicity on it steady.
She took his offered hand and smiled widely at him. Her hair was a tangled mess of blonde curls and her make up was still smudged from crying earlier. But God help him, she still looked beautiful.
"Thank you," she whispered and took a step forward, placing her small hands on his shoulders. He instinctively tensed but let her step even closer. And then her lips where on his cheek, pressing a soft kiss into his stubble.
Before he could really register what was happening, she'd already pulled back and stepped away a little. There was a faint blush warming up her cheeks. "Sorry," she said while fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie she was still wearing. "I don't know what the protocol is for thanking someone for saving her life, so..."
He moved before his brain could stop him. Both hands cupped her face lightly while pulling her towards him. His lips touched hers and his brain shut down completely, letting his emotions take over. Kissing her was like a drug. The feeling of her lips against his. The breathless gasps she let out. The little sounds that escaped her mouth. Everything was perfection and made him feel light headed and like he was floating on a cloud somewhere high above the ground.
At first, she didn't react but that didn't stop him from continuing to kiss her like he'd always wanted to. Slowly, with a passion that for once wasn't fueled by jealousy or anger. And when she started kissing him back it was like all of his prayers had been answered. There was no real sense of urgency this time. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking, hell, begging for entrance, in a desperate need to taste her on his tongue again.
But before he could deepen the kiss, she pushed him away forcefully. After several deep breaths she was able to speak again. "No, I can't..." She took another calming breath. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression but I'm married and despite how hot you are and don't even get me started on your kissing skills, because, holy hell, you're good at that." She paused once more. "But I'm faithful to my husband," she finished firmly.
He took a hasty step back. Shit. Shit. Shit. For a second, he'd actually forgotten that he was The Hood right now and not Oliver Queen. "I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened," he said quickly and he saw her nod in thoughtful agreement.
"Good night, Mr. Hood," she said with a small smile and moved to walked past him but stopped in her tracks. "Oh, and if you ever need help with a laptop that you spilled a latte on again or any other tech problem, I'm your girl."
He watched her hobble to the door and after another look in his direction she closed it behind her. He left his bike where it was and used the shadow of the trees and bushes around the house to move around to the east wing. There was already light on in her room and he briefly wondered how she'd made it up there that quickly when his phone rang. His private phone.
Making sure that his voice modulator was off he answered, "Hey, Speedy, what's up?"
"Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you that nobody calls me that anymore?" He didn't even have time to protest. "Doesn't matter now. What matters is that while you're still off talking to the police, your wife just got home from the party of hell, limping and wearing another man's hoodie."
"Thea," he warned his sister, knowing how much she loved to provoke him with this stuff. No wonder that Felicity and her got along so well.
"Okay, I'll drop it but only because we have bigger problems."
"What's going on?" he asked with spiked interest.
"Remember how Grammy talked about that 4-month world cruise she's going to do next week? Apparently, she's decided to spend the rest of the time before the cruise with us, saying that she won't see us for so long," Thea let out in a rush.
"So? That's nice of her. You love spending time with her. What's the problem?"
"The problem is that she was here when we came back from the auction waiting for her suitcases to be brought up to her favorite guest room."
"So what?" He questioned impatiently.
His sister groaned in frustration. "Ollie, her favorite room is the same one that Felicity is currently using as her bed room."
Shit.
"Tell her to take a different room."
Thea scoffed. "Have you met the woman? If she wants something, she gets it. I tried telling her that the room was being used for something else but she wasn't having any of it. So I told Raisa to stall her with a discussion about cake recipes, and moved all of Felicity's stuff to your room. I'm pretty sure that woman has more computers than shoes. How's that even possible?"
Oliver groaned. This was so not what he needed right now.
"So Grammy already moved into the room?"
"Yes, and she's planning on, and I'm quoting her, 'making sure that the two of you are busy making great-grandchildren for her to spoil'," Thea said with way too much glee in her voice. "I already informed Felicity and by now she should be in your room, settling in."
He sighed. "So basically..."
"So basically," he was cut off by his sister. "You'll be sharing a bed with your wife for the next week."
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A/N: Let me know what you think of the chapter :) Hope you enjoyed it.
Title translation: Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time
Starting next Thursday, I'll be traveling for a few days and I don't know yet if I'll bring my laptop, so there may not be a chapter next week. Just so you know ;)