"That's a very big decision, Oliver," she said, with what looked like a guarded hope on her face. "Is that what had you so preoccupied today?"
He stopped in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. "Yes to both of those." He stared down into her beautiful eyes. "But it's what I have to do. Want to do," he added. Then, barely audibly, "need to do."
"Have to do?" She raised an eyebrow, placing her hands flat on his chest, the first step to pushing him away. Or trying to, anyway. "I don't want to be an obligation. If you're doing this because you think I need protecting or something..."
"Whether you need protecting or not, I'll be doing it anyway," he interrupted firmly. "And you're not an obligation. I'd say you are more of a necessity at this point. And since I'm pretty sure you aren't going back to Starling any time soon, I have to stay here. I want to be here with you more than I want to be anywhere else. As far as I am concerned there is no choice to make. I want you."
She observed him with an appraising glint in her eyes, as if she was weighing the truth of his words. She seemed to come to a determination as her pretty lips bloomed into a Mona Lisa smile.
"Do you understand, Felicity? I want you," he repeated insistently.
"I understand." She smiled sunshine at him. "Oliver?"
"Yes, Felicity?"
"You're not wearing any pants."
He let out a bark of laughter and pulled up the hem of her shirt to palm her bare bottom. "Neither are you." His eyes never left hers.
She yawned widely, letting out an adorable little squeak as she did. "Let's go to bed." She blinked sleepily up at him. "I have to be up at seven to go to the market. You are wreaking havoc with my beauty sleep, mister."
"Doesn't seem to be harming you any. I'll be right down," he called after her. "Leave those, I'll get them," he added when she started to pick up the quilts.
He watched until she disappeared down the stairs, then turned back to look out over a moonlit sea and was soon trapped in his head again.
He couldn't believe he had told her. Every word was true, but he hadn't been ready to say them, as evidenced by his verbal fumbling earlier, when he tried to explain how he felt about her. Still, better that than let her think he was actually contemplating leaving her.
He couldn't fathom going back to a life without her.
But he hadn't quite purged the guilt of abandoning his city yet. It was definitely lessened, given that he'd left not one, but two vigilantes in his place - even if they were vigilantes in training. But his desire for Felicity eclipsed all other considerations, which was not all good. He had not heard her approaching tonight, hadn't paid attention to his surroundings at the restaurant, and had barely scanned the streets for threats when they were out walking. This was not normal behavior for him, though maybe it should be. He also hadn't worked out for about four days, spending a lot of that time sitting on planes or trains, or standing on crowded decks.
He decided he would set his phone on vibrate when he went to bed, and go for a run at dawn. Turning away from the view, he found his jeans and pulled them on, not bothering with the buttons.
After he folded the blankets and put everything back in the chest, he headed back down to the bedroom, expecting to find Felicity already asleep.
The bed was empty.
With a frown, he left the room and wandered into the living area, finding her sitting at the island swinging her legs and eating cookies from a plate half covered in plastic wrap.
"I was thirsty." She licked powdered sugar of her fingers, totally unaware that she drove him insane every time she did that. "I came in for a drink of water, and found that Maria had your luggage brought up," - she waved in the general direction of her front door where his suitcases were neatly arranged - "along with some wedding cookies."
She picked up another fat cookie caked in powdered sugar and crunched down on it. "Mmmm...you should try one," she mumbled over a mouth full, following it up with a sip of milk. "You can't beat cookies and milk," she sighed happily.
"What happened to going to bed?" He decided to skip the cookies tonight, and enjoy her enjoying them instead.
"Going now." She crammed the rest of her cookie in her mouth, covering the rest back up and sliding off the chair to put her glass in the sink.
"I'm going for a run tomorrow morning, early," he said as they undressed and climbed into bed, "but I'll be back in time to go to the market with you."
She rolled over under the sheet and faced him, fluffing her pillows. "Oh, you don't have to come with me. I'm used to going on my own. You just take your time, come back when you're ready."
"I'll be back in time," he repeated, reaching around to cup the back of her neck and pulling her in for a long goodnight kiss. "Don't leave without me."
"Mmmkay..." She snuggled into the pillows, and was out in seconds.
It didn't take him long to follow her into sleep.
Felicity woke shortly before seven, to an empty bed drenched in sunlight.
She stretched luxuriantly and happily, and rolled onto her back, smiling at the ceiling and wondering where Oliver was right now.
Thinking about him brought to mind how crazy her life had become since he had reappeared unexpectedly in her life. He'd been here only for a full day and two nights, and so much had already changed between them. They were moving super fast, but for some reason it felt absolutely right.
Although he had yet to say the words - for real, not as part of some scam to trick Slade - she was absolutely certain that he loved her. It was evident in the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, the way he touched her, and in the things he said. While it would be nice to hear the words themselves, they were absolutely not necessary. He was telling her all the time, in every way but verbally. And now, he was actually considering staying here. He was going to stay, she amended. He just didn't know it yet.
She jumped out of bed and bounced into the bathroom, pinning up her by now very messy braid before turning on the water and stepping under the warm spray. She had just finished rinsing off when the door to the stall opened suddenly, and a sweaty, naked Oliver stepped into the shower with her.
"You scared the crap out of me!" she yelped, punching him in the arm. "I didn't hear you come in."
He stepped forward under the water, looming over her, crowding her against the wall, hands cupping her face.
"We don't have time," she scolded him, trying to pull his hands away. "You need to wash so we can get going."
"I need to kiss you first," he growled, his mouth closing in on hers.
She managed to escape eventually, leaving him to finish showering alone.
By the time he was back in the bedroom dressing, one of his suitcases open on the bed and spilling clothes everywhere, she was already clothed in another t-shirt dress, this one a pale, icy blue-green that offset her tan nicely, and had combed her hair, pulling it up into a high ponytail.
Out in the living room, she pulled the shopping list Maria had left out from under the plate of cookies, tucking it into her wallet, which she placed in the backpack she usually took to the market with her in case all the groceries didn't fit in her Vespa.
"Oliver!" she yelled. "Oh. There you are," she continued when she turned to find him right behind her, in a white t-shirt and the khaki cargo pants he always favored back in Starling. "I keep forgetting how sneaky you are. Come on, let's go. The best stuff will be gone if we wait too long."
The market - an actual market, not a grocery store as Oliver had expected - was a hodgepodge of tables under makeshift sunshades, pickup trucks, blankets on the ground, even donkeys, all laden down with baskets or crates of produce, bread or flowers, haphazardly arranged in the open area near the parking lot they had parked in yesterday. It stretched all the way down to the docks, where people were selling their catch right off the boats; or cheeses, olives, and various prepared foods out of food trucks or carts.
The parked in the same spot as before. Oliver deliberately fell a few steps behind Felicity as she checked her list, muttering to herself. He wanted to hang back and just watch her in her element, letting himself be enchanted by the woman she had become.
She was apparently quite well known to many of the vendors, if the enthusiastic cries of "Ali! kali̱méra, Ali!" where anyting to go by. And well liked, too. She was welcomed wherever she went, often with kisses to her hand, and in a few cases kisses on the cheek from some of the older men. Everywhere she stopped she was offered tastes of fruit, cheeses and breads.
It was during one of those stops that Oliver had an epiphany, right out of the blue, and for no discernible reason. He would think about it later, even discuss it with Felicity, but he never quite figured out why it was that particular moment when he finally realized what he'd suspected - and done his best to ignore - for quite some time now.
He was irrevocably, totally, hopelessly in love with Felicity Smoak.
He almost laughed out loud. It seemed so obvious to him now, and explained so many things; why he was able to let Thea go so easily - she was safer as far away from him as possible - but couldn't do the same for Felicity; why he made a deal with the devil - Amanda Waller - for information on where to find her; why he had traveled across the world to do just that; and why he was prepared to uproot his entire life, just to be with her. He told himself it was to make sure she was safe, but if that were the only reason, he would never have tried to find her, let alone follow her here.
That kind of stupid could kill a man, he thought, borrowing an expression of Thea's. How could he have been so blind, and for so long?
He watched her bite into a fresh fig, and heard her make a sound he really didn't want anyone but him to hear, ever.
"Taste this, Oliver," she moaned, holding out the fig, freezing suddenly when her eyes found his. "Oliver?" She frowned a little. "Are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Actually, I think I'm finally seeing things clearly," he said softly, approaching her and reaching for her wrist. He guided the fig to his mouth, taking a bite from the fruit right out of her fingers, never taking his eyes off her. Her frown deepened at his cryptic remark, but he continued speaking before she could comment on it. "There's something I need to take care of. Would you mind continuing without me? I'll find you when I am done."
"Uh...OK." She was confused. "I'll be down by the boats. I need some fish and cheese, and then we can head back."
He watched her walk away, and then made a bee-line for the middle aged woman standing on a shaded corner of the marketplace, her donkey carrying baskets crammed with all manner of different flowers. "How much for the flowers?" He gestured with his hand to indicate he wanted all of them.
Fortunately for him, she spoke some fractured English. "All flowers?" she repeated, her face brightening. He nodded, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. She named a figure that meant absolutely nothing to him, and he handed over double the amount she'd mentioned.
"Could you deliver them to the taverna down the coast, please?" He gestured in that general direction, hoping she knew what he meant. Not surprisingly, she did. It was the only taverna in that direction.
"Nai," she said. "i̱ amerikanikí̱, yes?"
Before he could answer in the affirmative, she had called over a sullen looking youth leaning against the wall behind her. A brief discussion ensued, some money changed hands, and the kid took the donkey and started leading it to the road leading to the taverna. "Your lady love?" She turned back to him with a romantic gleam in her eyes.
"Yes." He smiled widely, unable to help himself and wanting to share. "My love. My life."
She smiled even wider than he had, and rattled off a few words in Greek. One of them he recognized as ef̱charistó̱, meaning thank you.
"Ef̱charistó̱," he repeated with a wave, before turning away to look for the love of his life.
He found her just as she was turning away from a trestle table laden with ice-filled tubs of fish. "Calamari." She held up a bag that looked like it contained squid.
He made a face and opened one of the totes so she could place the bag in it. "They taste a lot better than they look," he remarked as the slimy mess disappeared out of sight into the tote.
"And you haven't even had Maria's calamari yet." She smiled up at him. "Are you done? Because I'm done."
He nodded.
"Let's go home, then." She slung one of the bulging totes over her shoulder and they started to head back. "I'm dying for some of Maria's coffee."
Home. Hearing it filled him with a warm sense of belonging, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly understood the meaning of the word.
That was the moment he finally made it back from the island.