(A/N: I started this for the prompt word "spark," then quickly realized it could go for "phobia" too. I hope y'all enjoy the fluff. It's basically the only productive thing I've done today. :P)

This Immortal Fire

In the days she'd spent beside Barry's hospital bed, Felicity passed most of the time imagining how it would feel to be struck by lightning. She'd read up on it extensively and was familiar now with the burns, the brain and heart damage, and a shocking array of weird after-effects.

She clearly remembered her own near-strike experience. In high school, her cross-country team had been caught outdoors by a sudden electrical storm. They cut their practice run short and headed for a nearby public pool. The building was locked, but there was just enough room for them all to huddle under the eaves. Felicity remembered trying to make herself as small as possible, her shoulder blades pressing into the brick wall, the fine blonde hairs on her arms rising in the charged atmosphere.

As nervous as lightning made her, thunder was worse. She'd always hated loud noises—fireworks, a car backfiring, a slamming door—but thunder made her come unglued like nothing else. Logically she knew it was just noise, that it couldn't hurt, but she hated the way it made her feel, powerless and terrified. Her fear had started in childhood and gotten worse as she got older. Thunder was a fear she grew into instead of out of, and now that she knew more about the damage lighting could do, she dreaded the inevitable thunderstorms that plagued Starling City every summer.

Of course the first storm of the season would start when she was alone at the Foundry. She'd been watching the weather radar all day, but the storm had moved in faster than predicted. Everyone else—Oliver, Dig, Sara, Roy—was out in the field, trying to stop an arms deal that could bring an influx of illegal weapons into the Glades. Felicity was monitoring everything on comms when a loud clap of thunder blasted into her earpiece.

"Wow, that was close," said Roy with a nervous laugh.

"Dig, was that you who let out that girlish scream?" asked Sara.

"It was me." Felicity gulped. She was holding the earpiece away from her head and flinching.

"Are you okay, Felicity?" Oliver asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just—the thunder. I don't like it." She hooked the Bluetooth back onto her ear. "But don't worry about me. Carry on with your vigilantism. Go stop crime."

Minutes later, as the rest of the team closed in on their target with Felicity guiding them, another clap of thunder echoed. It took her a moment to realize it hadn't come through the comms but was overhead. She glanced at the monitor where she'd pulled up the weather radar. The giant green swirl seemed to have parked over the Glades.

"Oh, crap," she breathed.

"What was that?" asked Diggle in her ear.

"Nothing," Felicity replied. "Keep bearing left, Dig."

She knew the storm was close because she could hear the thunder over the music from the club above. As soon as the fighting started, there was little Felicity could do besides listen to the punching and groaning and try not to picture her boys, and Roy and Sara, getting horribly injured.

The lights in the Foundry flickered, followed by another clap of thunder, the loudest one yet. Felicity squeaked and slid out of her chair to hide under the desk. She drew up her knees, glad she was wearing pants. She hated this so much, feeling absolutely powerless, her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding.

A crack of thunder sent her scooting backward until her shoulder blades dug into the back of the desk. The lights went out for good, and the thunder just rolled on and on, boom after boom. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, reciting random facts to distract herself.

"Cats have thirty-two muscles in each ear," she mumbled. "Woodrow Wilson was the first president to earn a Ph.D. There are 293 ways to make change for a dollar."

When a hand fell on her shoulder, Felicity shrieked, and jumped so violently that she hit her head on the underside of the desk. She risked opening her eyes but kept her ears covered. Her chair had been moved back from the desk, and there was a pair of legs blocking her view. Green leather-clad legs. Belatedly she realized the lights were back on.

"Oliver?" Her hands dropped from her ears.

"Felicity?" He knelt down. "Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Not hurt. Just really embarrassed." She put her head down on her knees.

"Hey."

She normally loved when Oliver said that to her. It was always a precursor to him saying something sweet. But when he said it now, she knew, though she was staring down at her lap, that he was tilting his head adorably and looking all concerned, and any moment now he would touch her. Lay a hand on her shoulder, cup her elbow. Something. And as soon as he did, she knew she'd fly apart and start bawling. She was that on edge.

Tears sprung to Felicity's eyes, but he took her hands and drew her out from beneath the desk, bringing her to her feet in one swift move. His arms wrapped around her as he pulled her close. So close that the zipper of his jacket was poking her nose.

"The storm?" he asked.

She nodded. "I said I didn't like thunder, but . . . I kind of hate it."

The storm was moving on, the thunder rumbling softly in the distance.

His breath tickled her ear. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Yes, I do," Felicity said. "I was hiding. Cowering. And you're all . . . badass. All of you."

"You feel how you feel," Oliver replied. "There's no shame in that."

"Speak for yourself," she mumbled into his chest.

"Everyone's afraid of something."

"Oh yeah?" She looked up at him. "What are you afraid of, Oliver Queen?"

He smiled. "You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I promise. I can keep a secret."

Oliver's voice lowered to a whisper. "Horses."

"Wait, what?" She drew back so she could look into his eyes. There was a little spark there, but she could tell he was sincere.

"And elephants. Possibly dinosaurs, but I've never met one." He gave her a little squeeze and then held her at arm's length. "I don't trust any animal bigger than me."

Oliver let go of her and took off his quiver. He walked over to the table and laid it down. Felicity followed him, skipping a little, her fear forgotten.

"So . . . blue whale?" she asked.

"I suppose, in theory. They're enormous." He unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of the sleeves.

"Hmmm . . . woolly mammoth?" Felicity asked.

"I guess."

"Sasquatch? No, wait, the Loch Ness monster!"

"Big animals, Felicity, not mythical creatures." He headed for the stairs, and she skipped after him.

"But mythical creatures are just big animals whose existences haven't been proven," she said.

Felicity knew he was headed to the bathroom upstairs, and following him would be weird and creepy. She grabbed his hand. He stopped and turned to face her.

"Oliver . . . thank you." She smiled.

He squeezed her hand. "Always."