What could have been an uncomfortable hour, considering the conversation that was ahead of them, turned out to be an incredibly pleasant, relaxing evening. Oliver steered clear of anything related to her life in Starling City, choosing instead to draw her out on her new life here in Greece. She spoke eagerly and enthusiastically about it, concealing nothing, in stark contrast with the way she'd shut him down the few times he'd tried to bring up their shared past.
But evening had turned into night, they'd finished dinner, and he wasn't going to let her avoid the subject any longer. She seemed to sense it too, because she grew quiet as they cleared the dishes and moved back into the house. He helped her tidy up in silence and then waited for her in the living room while she extinguished the torches and lanterns, and locked the balcony doors.
She turned to him, avoiding his eyes. "Let me show you the rest of the place."
He caught her hand as she brushed past him, lacing his fingers through hers. "Felicity, wait." She stopped, but kept her eyes averted. "Please look at me," he murmured.
A look of resignation crossed her face and she did as he asked.
"We really need to talk."
"Shouldn't that be my line? You know, as a girl?" she quipped with a small smile.
He wouldn't be distracted. He just stared at her, blinking once.
Her shoulders drooped a little. "Ok, let's talk. What do you want to know?"
Leading her to the sofa, he sat and pulled her down next to him, regretfully letting go of her hand. "Who was the guy?" he finally asked, watching her closely.
Her eyes shot up to his, an incredulous look on her face. "That's what you want to know? Out of that whole letter, that's the first thing that comes to your mind?"
He grinned. "I thought it might break the ice." That, and he wanted to ease her into talking about the heavy stuff.
She laughed, and as he'd hoped, relaxed a little.
"He was the head of IT for Kord Industries," she started, making a great show of inspecting the polish on her fingernails. "We get our coffee at the same coffee shop. One day we both reached for the cream at the same time, and the rest, as they say, is history. I liked him. We had a lot in common." She looked up at him again. "You know the rest," she finished.
They exchanged a long look, wounded on her part and full of regret on his. "I'm sorry, Felicity. I never meant to hurt you."
She stood abruptly, walked over to the balcony doors and stared our into the darkness, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield. "Then why did you?" .
He rose and walked over to her, standing right behind her. "I don't really have much of an excuse." He spoke gently, longing to comfort her, but not knowing exactly how to go about it. "At least not one that will make you feel better. I thought your reaction would be more genuine if you weren't in on the plan."
"So you risked my life without my knowledge and consent because you think I'm a bad actress?" she asked stiffly.
"No, but you do babble. Slade didn't know that about you, and it could have looked suspicious to him."
There was a long silence, during which he patiently waited for a response from her "You're right," she muttered, her back rigid. "I don't like that excuse."
He reached out then, placing a hand on her shoulder. Though she tried to resist him, he gently but inexorably turned her around to face him. A shard of self-loathing and regret sliced through him at the devastation on her face. He had no idea it had hurt her so much. Her eyes were swimming, on the brink of spilling over.
She blinked, sending two fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her breath hitched, and she caught her trembling lower lip between her teeth.
He raised a hand up to cup her face, brushing the tears off her cheekbone with his thumb. "I really am sorry, Felicity," he whispered, his voice slightly unsteady, as he trailed his fingers down to her chin and gently pulled her lip free with his thumb.
He had no idea what finally undid her, but the dam broke. Felicity's face twisted, she hung her head, and started crying. His heart breaking, he pulled her to him, an arm around her shoulders and a hand cupping the back of her head. She stiffened at first, clearly unwilling to accept his comfort, but then she melted, her arms slipping around him. He felt her hands close over fistfuls of cotton against his back as she slumped against him, sobbing into his chest.
They stood like that for a long time, long enough for Felicity to cry herself out and for her breath to steady. He held her wordlessly, knowing there wasn't much he could say to make it better until she finally pulled away, scrubbing the back of her hands over her eyes and smiling up at him a little sheepishly.
When she started shifting uncomfortably, he realized he was staring, as if he was finally seeing her properly. Almost without conscious thought, he reached behind her and pulled the pencil and screwdriver out of her hair, tossing them in the general direction of the sofa, threading his fingers in the long coil of hair that had fallen down her back, gently working the strands apart and letting them fall in a cloud around her shoulders.
"I didn't think you could get anymore beautiful." He picked up a copper curl that rested on her collarbone, rubbing it between his finger and thumb, entranced by the softness, and then laying it back almost reverently where he had found it.
Frozen in place, she stared at him in wide-eyed shock, eyes red, wet lashes clumped together like starfish arms.
Seeing the evidence of what he'd done to her catapulted him straight back into reality, and he slammed his eyes shut. Doubt flooded him. When it came right down to it, nothing had changed. He was still a danger to her, and the longer he stayed the more he was risking her anonymity on the island. It was bad enough that ARGUS knew, and even that was his fault; he had involved them, having no idea how to go about finding her himself. Now it has his turn to stand frozen, crippled by fear, indecision and regret.
When he opened his eyes again, it was to a look of appraisal on her face which quickly shifted into one of determination. Then Felicity did something that he never would have expected of her, something that completely stunned him. She took a step forward and slipped a hand around his neck, rising on her toes as she pulled him down to meet her lips.
She kissed him. Felicity Smoak kissed him.
There were no fireworks. The earth didn't move, planets didn't collide, and no stars fell from the sky. It was a small, quiet watershed moment infinitely more powerful than any cosmic event could ever be. It was soft and sweet and gentle, and rocked him to his core. For the first time he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be. Like he belonged in that exact moment in space and time.
His hands, which had naturally gravitated to her waist when her lips met his, slid to the small of her back, pulling her as close as was humanly possible, and because it wasn't close enough, speared his fingers into the curls at the back of her head, closing his hand into a fist over a handful of hair and anchoring her head as he devoured her mouth. All too soon that wasn't enough either, and he slipped his hands down over her ass to her thighs, lifting her off the ground. She dutifully wrapped her legs around his hips and he backed her into the French doors.
She tore her mouth away from his, breathing heavily. "Not here." She dropped her forehead to his shoulder.
"Where?" he rasped, scraping his teeth over her collarbone and thrusting his hips into her.
"Bedroom!" she cried. "Down the hall...first door to the right. Ah!"
He palmed her ass and hurried them down the hall, pushing the door open so hard it banged against the wall. "Wait!" he said when she flipped the light switch, turning on the night table lights. "Turn them off."
She threw a questioning glance at him but complied, and seemed to understand immediately. The room was bright, a window-shaped pool of moonlight reflecting off the white sheets. He walked her over to the bed, climbing on to the mattress on his knees still holding her pressed against him, and laid her gently down on the pillows, her hips cradled between his thighs, legs still hooked over his hips.
Her arms fell away from his neck and dropped to either side of her head. Reaching for the hem of his t-shirt he stripped it off and tossed it aside quickly, his fingers finding and undoing the buttons of her jeans next. He pulled them down over her hips, up her thighs, over her knees and the off, while she wrestled with her sweater which soon joined the rest of their clothes on the floor.
He was gentle at first, then grew rough, spurred on by her soft cries. For all he knew, this could be the only night he would have with her; he was going wring as much pleasure out of this night as his stamina would allow. For both of them. Though outside her bed he had to let her set the pace, inside it, he'd be the one in charge. He would lead, and she would follow, at least for tonight.
They made love on and off into the very early hours of the morning. Felicity dropped off first, but he wasn't far behind. Rolling onto his side, he buried his face in her hair, spread out like a dark mist on the pillow, and followed her into sleep.
His last conscious thought was of how right she felt against him.