Stay With Me
By Bre (dust2dust34)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.
Rating: M
Author's Notes: Part of my You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream Olicity ficlet collection. This was another one that got long on me, they all won't be this ridiculously long.
Summary: It's 2046 and today is her birthday.
This was another one that got long on me, they all won't be this ridiculously long.
I'm officially working on a complete multi-chapter story for the tattoo ficlet! I was going to do snippets from the plot idea I had, but I didn't think that would be satisfactory enough. It will be called "Dotted Lines." Once I have a few more chapters drafted and edited, I'll start posting it.
In the meantime, I have a few more ficlets for this collection that I'll be posting as they get edited. Thank you for the kudos, reviews, favorites and follows, everyone!
"Where in the hell have you been?"
The voice thundered from the corner of the little shop, making every single person inside stop dead in their tracks. It looked like someone had pressed the Pause button… or everyone had just been caught shoving stolen coffee beans in their pants.
A sea of heads immediately glanced at the tiny woman the voice had come out of - and it was a shocking sound, because she was a waif of a thing, tall and willowy with long silver hair to match, she didn't seem to have enough neck to hold such an impressive voice box - before turning to see who the ire was aimed at.
Felicity Queen stopped dead in her tracks.
The door swished closed behind her with the telltale tinkle of the bell over the door and a frosty gust of wind that swooped across her bare legs and up her skirt, making her clench her legs together in a shiver. She didn't move save to blink snow out of her eyes, flinching when a trickle of melted ice slipped from her hat onto her bare neck.
Sharon, her favorite barista and cranky surrogate mother - as Oliver had lovingly started to call her during their first vacation in Aspen - dropped the cup of coffee she was working on and walked out from behind the coffee bar.
Her "kids" Kelcy and Max barely batted an eye. Max immediately stepped up to finish the coffee, barely glancing at the writing on the cup, having an almost preternatural understanding of where Sharon had left off while Kelcy smoothly took the order for the next person in line, not a single ounce of worry on her face despite the line being nearly out the door.
It was classic Sharon; it had been for all of the twelve years Felicity had been coming to The Pump and Grind.
She'd gotten closer to the wizened old woman when she and Oliver had started coming to Colorado more often, spending more and more time in the small condo he and Thea had inherited from some long lost cousin of Robert's - really, Felicity had teased, two of the richest people in the world were the ones who got random huge generous gifts from long-lost relatives? Sharon looked the exact same as she did then. Under the words 'freakish' and 'energy' in the dictionary, her picture was right there; she had to be going on 90 now, but she moved and acted like she was 25. Felicity was fairly certain the woman was going to outlive everyone.
The smile on Sharon's face was blinding as she stepped up and cupped Felicity's face. "Happy birthday, my beautiful chinchilla."
"You are the only person I let get away comparing me to a cutesy rat," Felicity said. Sharon let out her signature hoot of laughter.
"They aren't rats, goodness, don't you pay attention to anything I say?" Sharon replied before giving her a stern look, shaking her face as she spoke, "You were supposed to come in this morning."
Felicity smiled tiredly, her lips not used to the sensation. "I know. Investors teleconference. Madeline threatened my life."
Sharon tsked. "That's what daughters are for. Come on, come on, get inside where it's warm."
She wrapped an arm around Felicity's shoulders, towing her into the crowded shop, ever unmindful of the cold starting to melt on Felicity's jacket. The woman looked like a gust of wind would blow her away, but did she feel an ounce of cold? Ha. Whereas Felicity was left wondering why she hadn't at least worn tights. It wasn't supposed to snow, for one, and two, this was her favorite skirt - it was black with splashes of bold-colored surrealistic flowers. It was meant for the chic boots and bare skin she was sporting, which she was extremely excited to still be able to sport in the first place.
One thing the girls should be excited about was getting good leg genes.
The weather didn't agree though, as she had learned was often the case when the tail end of Spring made its way through the Rocky Mountains.
"Are you staying?"
"No, I can't. Just need my fix, I was up way too early."
"Big plans tonight? Are the girls in town?" Sharon asked, pushing Felicity up to the bar and stepping back behind it.
"No, no, I wouldn't let them."
Sharon made a disapproving ticking noise with her tongue as she started making Felicity's coffee.
The woman was a master business owner.
She had first bought the land in the early 80's and had stayed ahead of the coffee curve with her unique personality and even more unique coffee drinks. She was Starbucks before Starbucks was Starbucks - and amazingly stuck around when the custom coffee fad died out. She maintained the small-town charm with her business etiquette and refusing to make any 'foolish robot changes' to the shop. She was the only business in town that hadn't installed a computerized, well, anything. You could press a button and not have to talk to anyone for a decent cup of coffee a few blocks from her door, but that didn't mean jack to Sharon, or her profits - they hadn't seen a dent in decades.
Felicity could still only watch in abject wonder at how she and her team moved with each other - it was an intricate ballet; one person twisting this way while another turned that way and the other leaned over both of them to put syrup in a cup, all handling equal loads of the job.
"But they are coming in a few weeks though - together," Felicity added, watching Sharon's face brighten even more.
Donna Smoak was the epitome of a spoiling and crazed grandmother, and Sharon only added to the pile whenever Madeline and Emma came around. They'd made the official move to Aspen after the girls had both gone off to college - well, when Madeline had gone off to college. Emma had chosen a slightly more eclectic path, much to the chagrin of her father. If Sharon was Felicity's other crazy mom, she was definitely their daughters' crazy other grandmother.
"Oh good! You know I still have that necklace I found when I was visiting your mom - it's perfect for Emma, just perfect. So then, what's on the agenda for tonight? I better hear something more exciting than 'tech this and tech that and some red wine' because I'll have to boycott."
"Well," Felicity started, feeling bashful as she stared at her dark mocha nails.
"Ooh, I know that face," Kelcy interjected and Felicity blushed.
"I do actually have a date night planned."
Just saying the words perked her up, and this time when she smiled it felt good.
Very good.
"Oh goodness me, I can't remember the last time I went on a proper date," Sharon said wistfully. She handed Felicity her cup. Felicity immediately wrapped both hands around the warmth and took a sip as Sharon stage-whispered, "The last time my nethers saw any action was when people still had cords on their phones."
Felicity snorted into her coffee.
"Oh god, Sharon, I'm standing right here," Max moaned and Sharon let another loud hoot of laughter.
"Well good, that's very good, my lovely girl, I'm happy to hear that," Sharon said, leaning across the bar to grab Felicity's hand, squeezing it lovingly. "I want to hear all about it tomorrow."
The flicker of candlelight was the first thing she noticed when she paused at the top of the stairs.
Her heart suddenly felt way too big for her chest as she paused, thinking about what was waiting for her.
She gripped the scarred bannister, the sturdy wood reassuring under her palm. She touched it every single day, going up and down, up and down these steps, and this moment wasn't really any different than any other time before, but right now it was the strongest thing within reach and she siphoned some of its strength.
She was going to need it.
It had been over five years since she had seen him. Five long years… that she really didn't need to be remembering right now.
This was an important night, a special night, and she wasn't going to taint it with memories that were better left in the dark.
Felicity made her way down the steps. He must have heard her coming because she heard the metallic chink of a holder hitting the coffee table followed by the lighter he'd used to create the forest of candles he'd laid over almost every available surface.
She saw his large shadow on the wall before she saw him, and she gripped the bannister again, pausing, her lungs expelling every last inch of air in anticipation.
It had been so long, what if…
Felicity shut down the thought before it could grow, knowing she was about three seconds from talking herself out of this.
She had come this far. She was going to do this.
She stepped down the rest of the way.
And stopped breathing.
Her chest tightened, her nails digging into the wood under her hand while the other made half-moon marks in her palm as he moved to greet her.
He was even more beautiful than she remembered.
He was slightly more weathered, laugh lines more plentiful around his mouth and eyes, and there was a new spattering of silver in his hair that hadn't been there before. He still kept the stubble though, and when it caught the light the right way, she saw it hadn't changed at all.
"Hey," Oliver said, his voice soft - it was the voice he only used with her, the soft growly voice that never once ceased to make her heart pick up a little bit and her stomach clench.
She let out a silent laugh of incredulity; it had been so long since he'd used it.
It almost sounded foreign.
She swallowed past the burning lump in her throat, wanting to do the casual glance-around-like-it-was-any-other-day thing, but she couldn't take her eyes off him.
"Hey," she finally replied, her voice cracking. "It's been a while."
He chuckled, a wide grin splitting his face. It was the smile that used to make her palms sweaty - and hey, it still did, she noticed, wiping her free hand against her side. Her arms and legs were oddly tingly, like all her nerves were hyperaware of the fact that he was right there.
Like her nerves really needed to tell her - she may be old, but she wasn't that old, her eyes still worked. How could the man still make her feel like they were just meeting, like everything was new and exciting, fresh and still untraveled … like she was just a giddy twenty-something and a seriously cute, mysterious man was in her office, telling her the stupidest lie she'd ever heard…
He nodded, pursing his lips in response to the brevity of her words.
"Yeah." His fingers moved in the familiar nervous tic of his, his forefinger rubbing against his thumb. "It has been."
There was more, she knew there was so much more that needed to be said, that she needed to say and needed to hear, but the words completely escaped her. If there wasn't talking, there should at least be moving - something being done - but neither of them did anything but stare at each other.
"I've missed you," he finally whispered, and the burning lump in her throat forced its way up, tears blurring her vision.
Felicity nodded briskly, licking her dry lips. "I miss you," she said, so softly she barely heard herself. "So much."
His face - bravely stoic and controlled - broke and he took two long strides towards her the same time she finally let go of the bannister, starting for him, and he was there to capture her, sweeping her up in his arms.
She let out a broken gasp, her arms wrapping around him when he lifted her off her feet and just held her.
He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply, making her shudder as his familiar scent washed over her in turn. His hair was the same, cut short, and she ran her nails across his scalp as she cradled him to her.
She pressed her lips to his temple, but once wasn't enough. She kissed him over and over, little pecks that were so small but so significant, and her breath hitched when his lips pressed to her neck, his stubble tickling her in ways it hadn't since when they'd first started making out like teenagers on her couch all those years ago.
That was so long ago, but it still felt like yesterday.
He'd seemingly come back from the dead, from his battle with Ra's Al Ghul, and with a new purpose in life - a new desire for life - but they hadn't been on the same page; she'd thought they'd never get in the same book, much less the same page of anything. It had taken them more than a year before the tension between them finally snapped.
And then she'd known what it was like to be able to kiss Oliver Queen whenever she wanted, to hold his hand, to smile when his fingers grazed her bare shoulders, to make out like lunatics for no reason other than they wanted to, to wake up next to him, to greet the world with a happy grin because the man she loved with all her being loved her back.
She choked out his name, her heart swelling, and he pulled back just enough to capture her lips with his.
Felicity felt like everything that had been broken inside her came together while at the same time it all shattered to pieces again.
He overwhelmed her - it was almost too much; it had been too long.
She moaned against him, holding on tighter.
He was familiar and new all at the same time; it had been so long, but they still remembered, remembered what the other felt like, how the other moved and acted and reacted. It was the confidence that came from spending years getting to know the other person in all the ways that they could; it wasn't something that just disappeared.
She felt his hand at her waist twisting her dress between his fingers, his other hand smoothed up her back until it delved into her hair, pressing her mouth closer to his.
The kiss was years of pent up frustration and longing and loss and pain all rolled into one and before Felicity knew what was happening, he stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the coffee table before his knees collided with the couch. She used his shoulders for leverage and hiked a leg over his hip, making a needy growl tremble through his chest, and he lowered her down to the cushions.
He broke away from her long enough to reach between them and press her dress out of the way before he draped his body over hers again, lips colliding, one hand cradling her cheek, the other sliding against her outer thigh, heat and need churning within her as his calloused fingers traced a tantalizing pattern, moving up until they reached her hip, hooking in the band of her panties.
Felicity keened, scraping her nails over his scalp. He groaned, his hips thrusting against her, pressing her deeper into the couch cushions and she wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring him to her.
She slid her hand under the collars of his sweater and t-shirt, her fingers roving over the scars across his upper back while his slipped underneath her, cupping her ass and pressing her harder against him. She gasped when the heavy bulge pressing against the seam of his jeans pressed directly against her center in perfectly placed circles that instantly had fire whipping through her veins.
It had been too long, too many years of nothing but the cold embrace of empty sheets, and Felicity whimpered when his hips moved faster, pushing the sudden need higher and higher…
She broke away, sucking in a harsh breath, gasping his name…
Oliver groaned and stopped, pulling back. She didn't let him go far, keeping her arms wrapped around him as she sucked in air, her chest hurting from having to catch up on her oxygen intake.
"What is it?" she breathed. She blinked up at him, their breathing harsh and uneven. His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration. Her hands came around to cup his face, one brushing up over his forehead in a caress while the other touched his bruised lips.
The effortless smile he gave her made her feel like she was floating.
He extracted his hand from underneath her - much to her rabid disappointment - and he hovered over her, pressing his forehead to hers.
"I had plans for tonight."
"Oh. Plans," Felicity said. "Well, plans are great, but this…" She hitched her legs higher and pressed herself against him. He groaned her name, his hips involuntarily thrusting to meet hers, making her gasp. "Is so much nicer."
"Plans," Oliver said through clenched teeth. "I had plans."
That didn't stop him from pressing his lips to hers again in a searing kiss, and she felt every inch of her ache with need when he hugged her closer.
And then with a concentrated force of will, he pulled himself back again and stood up, reaching down to pull her to her feet within the same breath.
He set her down, her dress falling back to proper levels.
"I had plans," he said, readjusting her dress straps. "To woo you."
"You don't need to woo me," she said, biting her bottom lip to keep a giggle at bay.
His grin was back and he shook his head minutely, his hands brushing over her shoulders reverently, down her arms and back up until he was cupping her face between his large hands.
"Yes," he said softly, leaning closer. "I do."
This kiss was the complete opposite of the desperation from a few minutes ago - it was gentle and tender, so full of love she felt it resonating in her bones.
If there was ever a doubt in her mind that he loved her, she knew that this right here completely erased it in the blink of an eye.
"It's your Pretty Woman fetish!"
"This is not my fetish," he replied, unable to keep from smiling himself as he dipped a strawberry in the cream and held it up.
She giggled, shaking her head, unable to even pretend to look at it. "I can't believe you're doing this. You even got the champagne!"
"And I can't believe you're laughing at me."
"No," she said, shaking her head, her stomach hurting from laughing so hard as she wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm laughing with you."
"Oh, right," Oliver said thoughtfully, a tiny smile on his lips.
He suddenly leaned forward and smeared the cream-covered strawberry all over her cheek, making her yelp in surprise.
His tiny smile broke into an infectious grin and he laughed freely when she gave him an outraged look and swatted his arm, which he dodged perfectly.
"That was so uncalled for," she said, grabbing her napkin, wiping her face when he leaned over, batting her hand out of the way.
"Come here." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'm…" His tongue snuck out to lick away the remnants of cream. "Sorry." He pressed his lips to hers.
She sighed, melting against him…
When he leaned over further, tilting his chair to get closer to her, she wrapped an arm around his neck, opening her mouth to his… and she dipped her finger in the bowl of cream and returned the favor, smearing it across his cheek and nose.
He froze, mouth hanging open, and she laughed so hard she snorted.
"You're ruining my date night," he said between chuckles and she tried to apologize, but couldn't get the word out.
Until he sucked her finger into his mouth to clean the cream off.
A rush of heat swept through her, hard and fast, and she nearly came apart at the seams when his tongue swirled around it, his eyes locked on hers.
She knew what he was doing.
And she had to admit… it was working.
He was recreating all their stupid first date moments.
From the botched first date - technically the second date, but they had stopped referring to the whole 'got bombed on their first date' thing the minute they decided to try again because they hadn't even gotten their drinks yet, it didn't count; the rules said so - where a romantic moment had been ruined because she couldn't stop giggling over strawberries and champagne he'd brought out, to when he'd come down with the flu.
All those late nights in that cold foundry had finally caught up with him. She'd already had it three times since she'd started working with him and had started to wonder if he was some genetic freak because he never got sick.
When she'd refused to leave him, it had led to a thrilling game of Scrabble.
And one day later, she'd gotten the flu. Again.
"You're letting me win."
Felicity smiled. "No, I am not."
"Yes, you are." He perused his letters. "You, Mrs. Queen, seem to think I'm an idiot."
She scoffed. "I do not."
Oliver snorted, waving at the board between them. "You've hacked into government agencies, hotwired bombs, and put a dancing panda on all the televisions in that Hong Kong airport to get Emma to stop crying when she was sick… and the best you're coming up with right now is 'yams.'"
"You just kicked my ass with 'cybernetics,' Mr. Queen, I think you're doing just fine."
"If I find out you're letting me win…"
She grinned at him coquettishly, cocking her head. "What? What will Mr. Scary Arrow do to little ol' me?"
He looked up at her under hooded eyes as he leaned over, placing more tiles on the board.
She shivered, his blue eyes darkening to a deep cobalt as he said in a throaty voice, "I'm sure I'll think of something."
Hot water sluiced across the dishes in the sink, rinsing the remnant food off. She set them in the other half of the sink to go into the dishwasher.
She heard him coming in behind her, carrying the last of the dishes from the dinner he'd cooked for them - the universe had been almost too kind when creating him because he could shoot arrows with alarming preciseness - with his eyes closed and riding a unicycle - and he could cook his amazing secret-recipe chili.
It wasn't just the chili - he always made it into a full five-course ordeal.
It was so good it rivaled the Green Arrow's archery abilities.
It was that good.
Oliver hummed behind her, making her smile, setting the dirty dishes on the counter. She opened her mouth to tell him he better not just leave them there when he wrapped his arms around her waist, molding his back to her chest.
He anchored his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling his face into her neck. She felt him smile where he pressed against her, and she leaned back against him, closing her eyes.
Happiness was a gentle warm glow in her chest.
He peppered light kisses along her neck, ignoring the dishes, and she shivered.
"Those go in the dishwasher, you know," she said.
"Mmhmm," he murmured, leaning forward and turning the water off. He pressed a kiss just under her ear, and she inhaled sharply, a tremble falling down her spine. He pressed a chaste path across her jaw and down her neck, his fingers pushing the strap of her dress off her shoulder. "Later."
"It'll be like… concrete," she said unconvincingly and his lips followed the path of his fingers as he pushed her dress further down, the material hooking on her breast. His hand moved further down her hip, pulling her dress up and she reached behind her, gripping his thighs, clenching his jeans to pull him closer as she pressed her ass into him.
His hand around her waist yanked her closer, his fingers digging into her abdomen.
"It'll be hard to clean later," she continued, her voice breathless. "They should at least soak."
"I don't care," he growled, and he spun her, lifting her easily and setting her up on the sink, pressing himself between her open thighs. She groaned her acquiescence and wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing her feet to his ass as he dragged her off the edge of the counter, his hands shoving her dress up, pressing himself against her through her thin panties.
She moaned his name, her head falling back when he rubbed against her, his hands gripping her ass hard enough to leave bruises. His lips found her collarbone, dancing across it and over her shoulder. She whined his name again as he barely grazed her, leaving goose bumps in his wake as he dragged them up her neck, his teeth nipping at her chin.
She moaned again and turned to meet him, his mouth swallowing the rest of it as she opened for him.
He was a combination of spices, wine, strawberries and Oliver.
God, she had missed him.
He wrapped a hand around her hips, his other sliding up and into her hair. He loved her hair. His hands were always buried in it, mussing it to hell, playing with the strands, running his fingers through them. It never failed to make her shiver, especially when his large palm cupped her neck, his thumb dragging across her pulse point and she arched against him, seeking more.
"Bed?" he rasped against her lips and she shook her head.
"Too far."
He grunted in agreement and then picked her up, spinning them to the kitchen island. A plastic bowl and napkin dispenser clattered to the floor when he set her down roughly, but neither noticed. She reached down, yanking his shirt up, her fingers drifting across his flat stomach, still so well-defined after all these years. The thought of his skin touching hers, of being near him again, feeling those muscles twitch under her fingers, straining against her, had her body weeping with need and she whimpered, tugging his shirt up until he pulled back and ripped it off, throwing it away somewhere.
Their kisses were demanding - taking and giving in equal measure. He lifted her further up on the island with ease, shoving her dress up and she squeaked in shock when the cold countertop touched her naked thighs.
He released her lips, his hands pushing her dress up and over her head and she was left in nothing but her panties.
She shivered when the cool air touched her heated skin, and she looked at him from under hooded eyes, her mouth going dry at the dark blue reflecting back at her. When she shivered again, it had nothing to do with the cold granite.
"I missed you," he rasped and he wrapped his arms around her, leaning her back so the only thing holding her up were his arms. He kissed her neck, nipping, sending tiny shots of electricity sizzling across her skin. Felicity held him as his lips grazed across her collarbone, moving down. He teased her, his lips dragging over the sensitive skin of her breast.
"Please," she whimpered.
He hummed against her, the vibrations razing across her delicate skin and straight to her core. She cried out when he finally wrapped them around the pebbled nipple. His mouth was hot, a sharp contrast to the cold air, and she tried to move her hips against his, seeking friction, needing more, but he had her nailed to the countertop.
"Oliver, please," she moaned and his tongue flicked across her nipple before he pressed it to the roof of his mouth and she saw stars, heat erupting inside her in a rush, her mind going blank. She jerked when his hand was suddenly between her thighs, pressing her panties to the side and his fingers slipping through the wetness. He moaned his approval, and he thrust two fingers into her.
Felicity shuddered, her body clenching around him, her back arching for more. He moved so slowly it was painful, and she gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into the hard muscles, but he didn't relent.
She couldn't take anymore. She pulled his head up, sitting up and forcing him back.
The grin on his face at her eagerness made her blush, and she bit her lip. His eyes flared, his amusement melting back to naked heat before their lips crashed together.
She wasted no time, her hands slipping between them, fumbling with his belt and jeans. He helped, shoving them down and then he pushed her back down on the counter, his fingers already hooked in her panties and sliding them down. The counter was ice to her heated back as she lifted her hips to assist before reaching for him again.
He gripped her hips, sliding her closer to the edge, the head of his cock slipping against her slick entrance. She whimpered, need clamoring through her, hitching her legs higher around his waist as he slid his hands behind her, holding her steady.
He didn't move, his breathing harsh, but controlled as she held onto his shoulders.
With a pained sigh, he pressed into her slowly, so slowly she felt every single thing. Her body tightened around him in anticipation and he grunted her name, his forehead falling against hers.
He let out a strangled sound before thrusting home.
Home.
They were home.
"Felicity," he moaned, his forehead falling against her shoulder.
His lips were on her neck again, his arms wrapping around her, encasing her in his warmth. He enveloped her, pulling her as close as she could go, and they wrapped themselves around each other, before he started moving. He slid out so easily and thrust back in, and she moaned, pressing her face to his cheek as he did it again, so slow it was torture.
"Oliver," she whimpered, her breath dancing over his ear and she felt him shudder against her. "Please. I need you to…"
That was all it took. It had been too long, they had waited too long, and he thrust in full force. He slid one arm under one of her legs, and she cried out when he went deeper. His thrusts became harder, the island rocking from the force as the new angle slid across her clit, sending sparks of pleasure pulsating deep through her pelvis.
It lasted forever, but happened so quickly at the same time. The pleasure blossomed inside her, every stroke stoking the fire until it burned so hot everything around faded away, and the only thing that mattered was Oliver thrusting into her, pushing her higher and higher…
She came with a guttural gasp, his name falling from her lips; it echoed the sound of his skin slapping hers as his thrusts became harder, his fingers digging into her painfully, his muscles tightening under her hands until he followed suit, his back bowing as he emptied into her.
She wasn't sure how much time passed, both of them slumped over the counter, catching their breath, dazed and pleasurably numb.
Felicity was only vaguely aware of him pulling out of her after a minute, and she whimpered her disagreement. He chuckled lowly, leaning down to nuzzle her belly, his stubble tickling her before he pressed a kiss to her hip. He never stopped touching her as he reached for a towel, wetting it and cleaning her up.
She moaned her appreciation, lifting her leg lazily, her foot resting on his shoulder and Oliver smiled down at her, kissing the inside of her knee.
And then he was lifting her and carrying her back out to the living room, sated and warm and fuzzy, and he settled them in on the couch.
"Oliver," she sighed sleepily, pressing her back into his chest and huddled her closer.
The world was fading away, and she grappled to stay awake long enough, unwilling to let the night end.
"Hmm?"
"Love you," she murmured, digging her face into the hard bicep. He pulled the throw she kept on the couch over them, snuggling in against her, wrapping her up in a warm cocoon.
"I love you," he replied, pressing his nose to the back of her neck.
"Stay with me?" she asked. "Don't leave me again."
"I'll never leave you, Felicity," he said, the words soft... "Never."
"Stay with me," she whispered, wrapping her hands around the arm he had around her chest. He responded by wrapping both of his tighter around her.
"I'll always stay with you…"
"Stay with me…"
Darkness…
The world faded to black.
She was already crying before she could get the wraparound glasses off her face, choking back the hard sobs trying to escape.
Her hands shook so hard she could barely grip the damn things, and when the question flashed, she shoved the glasses off so hard they flew across the room, bouncing on the floor.
"Repeat Simulation?"
She tried to breathe, tried to relax her body, but the words were the only things she could see…
"Repeat Simulation?"
The bright red, matter-of-fact letters she herself had designed reminding her of everything she had lost…
Her body was tight with unshed tears, straining to keep the grief inside where it always lived - it hadn't dulled over the years, not like she was told it would. Time was supposed to heal everything, make the pain fade, make it easier to live with.
It didn't.
Because Oliver was still gone.
Five years. He had been gone for five years, stolen from her, and nothing could make it better.
A tear slid down her cheek, the salty liquid burning on her ice cold cheek. She reached up to wipe it away, scraping her cheeks…
She could still feel him. She stared at her hands for a heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his cheek under her palm, the heat of his body over hers as he surged into her, the strength of his arms cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the world, loving her like she was the only thing that mattered…
She touched her lips, her fingers trembling, but they weren't warm or used.
They were cold, dry and chapped.
She was alone.
When the sobs hit this time, she didn't stop them. They took over, wracking her body, painfully yanking on already exhausted muscles.
She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill that hadn't gone away since the moment they had found him in that warehouse, beaten so badly she had barely recognized him. He had been awake though, always so brave until the last even though his body had been shot through and abused.
The gangster Glasgow had put two and two together according to the timeline he'd had taped all over the warehouse walls - Oliver Queen was the Green Arrow.
She remembered stumbling over a toppled chair, falling to her knees at his side with a loud crack.
Oliver had reached for her, touching her cheek with blood-stained fingers, bloodshot blue eyes staring at her sightlessly…
He'd whispered her name…
And then he'd died two hours later from massive internal bleeding.
They'd found him too late. She'd been too late to save him, and now he was gone, forever.
Felicity had refused to leave him, and eventually Lyla had taken all the kids home… She'd spent over three hours staring at his lifeless body before John had forced her out of the hospital room.
When he'd told her it was over, she'd swung at him, nails leaving jagged scratches across his cheek.
"You're wrong. You're wrong, he's not gone. He's not gone!"
He was coming back.
He always came back.
He'd promised her.
But this time… this time he'd stayed gone.
The flat computer panel next to her bedroom door came to life, pulling her out of the memories, a low-tone beeping alerting her to an incoming phone call.
She didn't move to answer it, didn't bother to look to see who it was because she already knew.
John's voice came through the speaker. When her tired swollen eyes ticked over to the screen on the panel, she saw his face as he left her a message, looking withdrawn and tired. He'd aged gracefully, but anyone could see the toll life had taken on him from the deep bags under his eyes and the white peppered through his hair.
"Hey, Felicity… just checking in. Haven't heard from you in a while. Lyla keeps talking about having you and the girls over for dinner soon, and Sara's coming home with some new guy she met. You know I'll need my buffer here if I'm going to make it through that so… let's make it happen, okay?"
He paused.
"I hope you're doing good. I heard Maddie's kicking ass and taking names at QC these days. I saw Emma a few weeks ago, she stopped in Starling on her way back from whatever pilgrimage thing she was doing in Alaska…"
She thought she heard a tremble in his breathing before he let out a heavy sigh.
"Anyway, I just wanted to… check on you.
"Happy birthday, Felicity."
The End
Inspired by the short film 'Stay With Me' starring Stephen Amell (which I only recently saw for the first time and it f'ed me up). And I'm sorry, the dark angstiness came on like a slap to the face.
Please let me know what you thought, reviews literally feed my soul and muse.
