Ardour
By Cortexikid
Chapter 7: T-Shirt Bandit
A/N: broken-geminii sent - I want to see Oliver basically being a big cat with Felicity (snuggling, mayhaps a purr or two) so if you work that into another prompt I'll love you forever!
Ask and ye shall receive! :D
"Alright big guy, let's just…get you inside," Felicity Smoak gasped, a little winded, as she shifted the giant mass of 6'1", 180 pound Oliver Queen from her position under his arm.
"Okay Fe…li…city…Felllllicity, Felissss…ity," he slurred, leaning most of his weight on her, his breath bouncing off her neck, his lips dangerously close to her now-flushed skin.
"Guess Digg gave you…a lot more of his…special aspirin, huh?" she struggled to reply, her knees buckling under his weight as they made their way up to her front door.
"Ihaveahightolerancesohehadtogivemetons," he rambled, leaving no beat between words, a frankly adorable grin on his handsome face.
She rolled her eyes as he stared down at her dopily, his cerulean gaze sparkling in the twilight.
Gently, if a little disjointedly, he reached up and captured a tendril of golden hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail, twirling it around his finger. She stilled, key half-way to the door, barely breathing, as he brushed it back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She managed a watery smile as she let herself truly look at him for the first time since he came back to the lair, blood spilling from shoulder, staining his fingers a murky crimson.
That gun-shot would likely haunt her dreams for many, many months to come…
"You did good today," he murmured softly, chasing away her darkening thoughts, blinking slowly as he swayed a little on his feet.
Felicity let out a humourless laugh, unlocking her front door, and side-stepping across the threshold, gently taking hold of both his hands and walking backwards into her hallway.
"I got you shot," she swallowed the lump in her throat, "it was hardly my best day at the office."
He halted his weighty and lethargic trodding across the room, and squeezed her hands in his, his large fingers tracing circles around her knuckles.
"It wasn't your fault," he replied, sounding clearer than he had in the last hour, his face sombre.
She merely shook her head, and continued walking backwards, her eyes raking over his tall frame, looking for any signs of discomfort. She had told Digg to load him up with as much 'aspirin' as he could handle without overdosing, and it seemed, if Oliver's current state was anything to go by, he had delivered.
"Okay, you come over here and sit down. I'm gonna go get some supplies and will be back before you know it," she half-whispered, placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder and gently pushing him down onto the couch.
He gazed up at her, his head tilted to one side, looking more like a confused golden retriever puppy with every passing second.
"Oliver…stay," she couldn't help but faux-order with a pointed finger, a soft smile gracing her face as his misty eyes narrowed slightly in retaliation.
She found him in the exact same position as she left him, five minutes later, her arms now laden with first aid supplies and a large, clean T-shirt. Depositing everything on the coffee table behind her, she knelt down in front of him, it taking a second for him to focus and catch her eye.
"Hey…you fallin' asleep on me?" she asked, ignoring the very nice image those words conjured in her mind, as her hand rose to cup his cheek, her thumb sweeping across his skin.
"Is that…my T-shirt?" he mumbled groggily, peering at the black piece of fabric peeking out from beneath her first-aid kit.
Felicity felt her cheeks heat up at his words. She had hoped he wouldn't notice in his altered state.
"Um…yeah, it is. You—you left it here one night, after crashing on my couch. I—I threw it in with my laundry…forgot I still had it in the back of my closet, until now," she responded, avoiding his gaze in fear of being caught in a lie.
Oliver merely nodded however, his fingers stumbling over the hem of his T-shirt, his torso twisting slightly as he tried to pull his bloodied material from off him.
"Whoa, whoa, stop! You'll pull your stitches," Felicity scolded, leaning forward and resting her hands on his knees.
Attentively, she reached up towards him, halting her fingers just above the hem of his shirt.
"May I?" she asked, trying to control her breathing and remind herself of the circumstances in which she was removing Oliver Queen's clothes.
It wasn't exactly the scenario she had pictured over the years…even if it was the most plausible one.
He gave a jerk of his head and with slightly shaking hands, she began to pull the damp garment up his body, faltering when she got to his right shoulder. Clearing her throat, she rose up higher on her knees, trying to ignore the fact that she was now kneeling in between Oliver's thighs, and bent his right arm at the elbow, slipping it out from under the shirt.
Oliver blinked almost owlishly, the fabric bunched at his right collarbone, his freed arm resting in his lap. This was the most drugged up she had ever seen him. And she'd seen him drugged up a lot.
Diggle really didn't do things in half-measures…
"Okay Oliver…we gotta get your head out now," she told him, just as he turned to face her, their noses a mere inch apart.
Felicity froze, her eyes raking over his face, he looking incredibly worn, tired…jaded. Her heart lunched in her chest as she thought back on all that had transpired tonight. How she had nearly lost him…again…and suddenly, it was all rushing to the surface. The panic, the worry, the agony of having to listen to her best friend, the man she—Oliver getting shot, hearing him fall to the ground with a heavy thump, all while she sat back in the lair at her computers, completely powerless.
"It's like…déjà vu, right?" he broke her out of her spiralling reverie, his breath brushing her lips.
At her questioning creased eyebrows, he smiled gently.
"The day I told you who I was…when my mom shot me," he clarified, his eyes unfocused again, clearly thinking back on that moment.
"I always did wonder how you managed to heave your giant self into my tiny car," she chuckled, her fingers gripping his uninjured shoulder, silently reassuring herself that he was fine.
"Not easily," his nose crinkled as he spoke, before he tilted his head even closer to her.
It took her a moment to realize that the motion was for her to pull the shirt over his head. Biting her lip, she took the fabric, and as gently as she could, slipped it over and off Oliver's head in one swift movement, her fingers following it down to his injured shoulder and deftly letting it fall onto the couch.
"There, that wasn't so bad," she said almost to herself, before she sat back on her heels and grabbed the first aid kit.
"We just gotta change the bandage and then we can get you something to eat," she continued, ripping open the packaging, grumbling when it fell to the floor and began rolling under the couch.
"No, no—ow!" she yelped, her head connecting roughly with Oliver's knee as she tried to retrieve the bandage.
"You okay?" Oliver asked, wincing a little.
"I'm—I'm fine," Felicity nodded, horrified as tears sprung to her eyes, threatening to spill over.
"I-I guess I'm just in a whole world of fail. First, I get you shot—" her voice broke, throat clenching painfully as she wrung her hands, head hung low.
"Hey—hey," Oliver bent down, taking her hands in his and pulling her up towards him in one swift movement.
"Oh!" Felicity exclaimed as Oliver clearly overestimated the amount of strength needed to pull her off the floor, tugging her on top of him, her chest crashing against his now-naked one, propelling them both back into the couch.
Slowly, she opened her eyes where she had snapped them shut mid-fall, only to be met with a rare sight indeed, Oliver Queen, smiling brightly, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
"I just hit against your gunshot wound, you really shouldn't be enjoying yourself so much," the words spilled from her before her brain could catch up with her mouth, flushing deeply as she realized their position, she sitting in his lap, her knees either side of his waist.
She thanked every deity that she had decided to wear pants that morning.
He didn't say a word, however, instead reaching out with his good arm and righting her skewed glasses, an enigmatic expression on his face.
"Well I better…" she motioned to get up off him, but before she could move a muscle, Oliver's hands fell to her hips, holding her in place.
She gaped at him, heart thumping wildly in her chest as she revelled in the pressure of his fingers against her.
You're the sober one, Felicity. The responsible one. The one that doesn't have enough drugs in your system to make a horse do the conga. Take control of the situation! she scolded herself mentally.
Before she could continue her cerebral reprimand however, Oliver was tilting his head at her, his smile transforming into a more sombre expression.
"Felicity…" he sighed, his thumbs rubbing back and forth against her hips in a motion that was very distracting, "what happened tonight was not your faul—"
"It was Oliver!" she interjected, her azure orbs flashing behind her glasses, "I'm your eyes. Or at least I'm supposed to be, in those kinda situations. I should have seen him coming. I should have warned you, but I didn't. I failed you…" she trailed off, a wave of shame rising from the pit of her stomach.
Oliver leaned forward, catching her cheek in his hand, turning her head towards him.
"You didn't fail me, Felicity," he spoke seriously, "it was a hostage situation. There were people running everywhere…it was chaos. There were blind-spots. There were five million other vari—vari," he shook his head dazedly before taking a breath, "it happened. And there was nothing you could have done…" he trailed off, before his eyes brightened a little, "you'd never fail at anything, are you kidding? You're so amazing they named a TV show after you," he finished, hoping that for once he could be the one to lighten the mood.
"Oliver Jonas Queen…" she gaped, "are you voluntarily telling me that you, Mr-suave-ex-party-boy-extraordinaire, actually watched the classic 90s show about the life and love of Felicity Porter?!"
He rolled his eyes at her tone, "Laurel never missed an episode so… neither did I," the distain evident in his tone as he paused, his expression turning pensive, "it helped that Keri Russell was hot…is she still hot?"
Felicity chuckled, "yep."
"Good."
"I don't think that show was named after me, though," she smirked, "it debuted when I was like, ten."
"Ugh, you make me feel old."
"I'm only three years younger than you!"
A silence shrouded them as they stared at each other, he happy to note that her face had brightened somewhat. The sight of her soft smile, one that he put there, cause a warmth to spread in his chest.
"You helped save the lives of twenty five innocent people today," he continued quietly, yet just as seriously as before, "it was a win, Felicity. Don't talk yourself out of a victory…" he completed, knowing his words were quite similar to ones she had once said to him.
She gazed down at him, her hand on autopilot as it raised to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek.
Oliver's eyes slipped closed at her touch, a wave of calm passing over him.
"You getting hurt is never a victory," she lamented, before she caught sight of his injury again, wincing, deciding that sitting in his lap any longer would certainly not do anyone any good. Physically or mentally.
"Okay," she murmured, clamping her hands on his, gently pulling them from her waist and untangling herself, awkwardly standing, and running her palm over her face as it shone with embarrassment.
"Let's get that bandage changed…"
Neither spoke as she gathered the supplies and took a seat to his right, turning her body towards him.
Biting her lip in concentration, Felicity gently removed the soiled bandage, grimacing at the sight of the puckered, raw skin underneath, which was stitched together with thick, black thread. She couldn't help but ponder just what number scar this would turn out to be.
"This may sting a little," she half-whispered, grabbing the cream Diggle gave her and dabbing some on her fingers, before softly patting around the wound, keeping her eyes focused on the task, not trusting herself to look up into the warm, trusting eyes of her partner-in-crime-fighting, for fear she would see discomfort on his face, and thus feel another wave of guilt at having been (at least partially) responsible for his current state.
"There, all done," she announced as she finished applying the new bandage over his skin, reaching across to retrieve the fresh T-shirt, and holding it out for him to put his good arm through.
Once she had eased the shirt onto him, she sat back, satisfied with a job well done, with minimal discomfort for him (if a lot embarrassment for her) and began gathering up the rest of the supplies to put away.
"You got a little…" Oliver said suddenly, pointing to her blouse.
Glancing down, she realized she had smudged some of the cream on her top.
With a roll of her eyes, she told him to stay put (never tiring of her private puppy joke) and went to get changed. After ridding herself of her work clothes, and opting for some yoga-pants and a baggy shirt, Felicity traipsed back into her living room, only to be met with the penetrating stare of one Oliver Queen as he raked in her appearance.
"You T-shirt bandit," he chuckled, eyes narrowed in a faux-glare.
"What?" she asked, puzzled.
"That," he pointed to her torso, "is mine."
Felicity bit her lip, glancing down at the large grey shirt that hung off her frame, it dawning on her that he was right. It had been another one of his that he had a habit of leaving behind in her apartment after one of their many recent movie nights, which she had dutifully washed…but conveniently forgotten to return.
Nothing suspicious about that…
"Meh," she shrugged, walking back over to the couch, and sitting down, "it looks better on me…like a lot of stuff you own," she teased.
His heart leapt in his chest as he remembered exactly how she had looked when she donned his hood.
Clearing his throat, he conceded, "you're not wrong…" before a large yawn escaped him.
"You want something to eat before bed?" she asked, not even caring how that sounded.
He shook his head, instead lifting his legs up to lie flat against the couch, shuffling a little to give her more space. Upon seeing his long frame fighting to fit, she rolled her eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder, tipping him back gently to lay against her, his head resting on her thighs.
The movement surprised her just as much as it did him, but she rationalized her boldness with still being in shock and just wanting to be close to him, to reassure herself that he was fine, that was all.
After a few moments, she felt him relax, the tension draining from his body as his eyes slipped closed.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're really comfortable?" he murmured softly, turning slightly into her, his nose an inch from her stomach, his hand falling on her hip.
Felicity stared down at him, her eyes drinking in his face, which was for once free of any worry, pain, anger, fear, panic or anguish. It made him look younger. She imagined it was a lot how he looked before the island…
"Maybe I was a chair in my past-life," she joked, resisting the urge to run her fingers through his hair.
"Do you believe in reincarnation?" he asked, his voice akin to a five-year-old as he began to drift off.
"Oh wow. We're in that part of the sleep-over now, huh?" she couldn't help but laugh gently.
He merely hummed in response, burying even closer to her, his face pressing against her stomach, a soft sound omitting from his lips.
Was he…purring?
Unable to stop herself, Felicity wove her hand in his hair, feeling the vibration of the little noises he was making in the back of his throat, as her fingers raked through the short tresses of dirty-blond hair.
She made Oliver Queen purr.
Or you know, enough drugs to make Walter White blush, made him purr, whatever.
Bottom line: Oliver Queen was sprawled out on her couch, purring like a kitten, looking like a puppy, and feeling like the warmest, safest, and best place she'd ever want to be…
With that final thought, Felicity Smoak let her eyes close, allowing the tenderness of the moment override her previous anxieties of the day, content that at least for now, everything was fine…
A/N: So this got a little fluffier/sappier than I'm used to lol. Hope you enjoyed anyway!
