Chapter Summary: Pre-island. Based on a tumblr prompt: Oliver and Felicity meet when they get into a car accident.
AN: It's short and kind of cheesy, so forgive me. I'm a little incoherent from lack of sleep at the moment.
It's his fault. He isn't paying attention to the road, he's being careless and thoughtless and as usual, it gets someone hurt.
He runs the red, going way too fast, and before he knows what's happening there's a flash of headlights, far too close and then the deafening sound of metal meeting metal.
He has the brief thought that it's just as well he chose to drive his SUV tonight instead of one of his smaller cars, but then he sees the tiny mini he's hit flipping over to land on the other side of the road and his stomach clenches.
He hits his head in the impact, and there's a minute of confused dazedness before his lucidity returns, and with it, horror. Scrambling out of his seat and wiping away the trickle of blood that's slowly dripping down his forehead, he jogs towards the overturned vehicle on the other side of the road. He can see even before he reaches it that the damage is extensive, and thinks vaguely that if there is a God, he really should be praying right about now.
Killing someone is not something his father will be able to make disappear. He's not sure it's something his conscience will be able to ignore either.
"Hello?" He calls as he reaches the wreck, his voice uneven and slightly frantic. "Can you hear me? Are you hurt?" There's no reply and his heart thumps loudly as he crouches down to peer in through a broken window.
His eyes settle on blonde hair, strewn out across the dashboard. Blonde hair streaked with red.
He quickly runs around to the driver's side and drops to his knees. He reaches through the shattered glass, and with shaking hands pushes aside the curtain of hair. She's beautiful. Her eyes closed, lashes creating shadows against her pale cheeks. She looks young and fragile and his heart lurches in his chest, fear, shame and guilt threatening to drown him.
There's blood across her forehead, and dripping from her lip.
His fingers find her pulse point and he presses against the soft skin, distantly realizing that he's muttering pleas under his breath.
He feels a steady thrum beneath his fingers, and exhales roughly, almost giddy with relief. Once he's assured himself that she's alive, he does a quick inventory of her injuries, eyes running carefully over her small body. From what he can see, her neck and back look unharmed, and the only blood visible is on her face and head. But there's still a chance of internal bleeding or something else he can't see and he knows he has to get her help, fast.
He's about to run back to his car to get his phone, when the acrid smell of smoke fills his nose and with a steady sinking in his gut, he turns to see a small flame licking up a trail of liquid by a rear tire.
A wave of panic washes over him and he acts on instinct, reaching for the girl and gently shifting her back so he can get to her seatbelt. He unlocks it quickly, carefully extricating it from around her prone body. He sends up a quick prayer that he's not injuring her further, before leaning into the quickly warming vehicle and, unmindful of the shards of glass cutting his knees, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hooking the other beneath her legs, he carefully pulls her from the wreck.
She's a petite little thing and he lifts her easily as soon as they're free of the tangled metal. She feels soft and warm in his arms, and another bubble of self-loathing rise in his throat. He's really gone too far this time.
People are always telling him that if he carries on being so careless with life, he's going to screw up so bad, there's no coming back. And now there's a beautiful girl, lying still in his arms, her pretty skin decorated with cuts and bruises, because he didn't listen.
Tears sting the corners of his eyes and he blinks them away, trying to stay focused. He carries her from her car, walking carefully across the road to his.
Managing to get the passenger door open, he climbs into the seat with her cradled in his lap. He fumbles for his phone, and he's just managed to unlock the damn thing and start dialing when she wakes up. He's so surprised by her soft groan that he drops the phone into the foot well. Ignoring it for the minute, he looks down at her face and sees her eyes blink lazily open. He's met with a pair of pretty blues that gaze up at him curiously.
"This is a nice position to wake up in." She mumbles, her eyes fluttering closed once more, for a brief second, before they snap back open and a crease forms on her brow. "That- I didn't… wait, what's happening?"
He smiles down at her, in what he hopes is a reassuring, non-threatening way.
"We were in an accident. You're okay… I think."
"An accident?" She tries to sit up, and he shifts her until she's more seated in his lap, breathing an internal sigh of relief that her neck and back don't seem damaged. "I don't remember." She mumbles, looking confused and a little scared. It's an equal mix of adorable and heartbreaking and he wonders what she looks like when she's smiling. He's sure it must be the most beautiful thing.
"I'm going to call the police, all right? Just try to stay still, you might have a concussion or something."
She nods vaguely as he reaches for his phone. Dialing 911 quickly, he briefly explains what happened, dropping his name a couple of times in the hopes that it might encourage them to be particularly fast. He's just hung up when the girl, he should ask her name at some point, stiffens and gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
He looks out of the window, following her line of focus. Her car is burning, thick, orange flames engulfing the red paint.
"My mini!" She mumbles, sounding close to tears.
His hand finds its way to her hair without thinking, gently stroking the damp strands out of her face.
"I'm so sorry. I'll buy you a new one, okay?" He says softly. He'd buy her a hundred cars, if it would take that look off her face. And not just to appease his extensive guilt, but because she looks so sad and pretty and he just really, really wants to see her smile.
She leans her head back against his shoulder, sighing softly, eyes drooping.
"Red with white details, please." She mumbles, and promptly passes out.
The police and paramedics arrive a few minutes later and he insists on riding with her to the hospital. Apparently her name is Felicity Smoak, she's twenty years old, she's allergic to peanuts and her only family is a mother in Vegas.
He doesn't leave her bedside until she wakes up.
His best friend Tommy gives a speech five years later, standing in front of everyone they know, dressed in a tux. And it's perfect and it's sweet, and Felicity cries. Oliver brushes away her tears and kisses her nose, coaxing a watery smile. He was right, that night on the road, it really is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. And just two hours ago, he vowed to spend the rest of his life keeping that shiny smile on her face.
