Hello everyone! I know it's been a while and no I'm not dead (just a uni student.. same thing basically) but I haven't had much inspiration, or time, to write lately. However, god bless 3 AM and Felicity Smoak for fixing that tonight.

This chapter was inspired by the latest Arrow episode and the coffee ordeal; I just adored Olicity's little fight and the coffee mug that Felicity offered later and I decided to write a coffee drabble.. which turned out slightly longer, and completely different, than what I originally had in mind.

I hope you like this and believe it or not I am still working on prompts whenever I have time to. And to my Left Behind readers: the story isn't abandoned I promise, please don't hate me.

I hope you like this one and if you don't like coffee then pretend it's tea.

I don't own Arrow but I do own cute coffee mugs.

What started out as a single cup of coffee, placed on his desk with a resigned look and an inaudible sigh, had turned into a daily habit.

At first she had seethed and sworn up and down that she'd never make him coffee or attend to him in anyway, but then that one night happened. A night where everything took a wrong turn and the whole world seemed to conspire against him –both of him- and Oliver could do nothing but stare at a screen and receive the words flung at him ruthlessly. He knew even as he watched that he had made the right choice, regardless of the consequences, but the accusations stung all the same.

It was at that point that Felicity had walked into the room and placed a steaming cup of coffee on his desk. Oliver stared at the mug for a moment, thinking that she must have seen the news, and then looked up with a grateful smile.

"One" She murmured with a glint in her eyes then walked away. It was a promise she won't be able to keep.

The next time Felicity made him a cup of coffee, Oliver had been shot at by no other than Laurel Lance. He had avoided the bullet with a wide margin –it didn't even come close to hitting him- but it had still wounded him much deeper than he'd care to admit.

That night he sat at his office with unseeing eyes and a forgotten file that needed studying. Felicity walked in with two steaming mugs and slammed one in front of him with an exasperated sigh.

"Would you please stop moping around?" she pulled a chair and sat across from him. "I mean yeah it sucks that your ex tried to shoot you but that won't be the first time, and probably not the last, that that happens." At his grim expression Felicity shrugged. "Not my fault that you have a terrible taste in girlfriends… It's either a psycho, a woman going after you or one who hates both versions of you." Felicity went silent for a moment then slowly raised her eyebrows. "Actually, I'm starting to see a pattern."

Oliver just shook his head and sipped his coffee. Felicity grinned then sternly warned him that he shouldn't get used to this.

The third time took place a couple of months later when a mission went wrong and Felicity blamed herself for it. That time he was the one offering coffee.

"This is becoming ridiculous," she attempted a smile as she took the extended mug. "coffee isn't even that comforting." But the grateful glance didn't escape his notice and after a moment's debate he sat with her till long after she finished drinking.

At some point the simple beverage, consumed late at night over scattered papers or blazing screens, became a gesture of comfort and friendship and they no longer argued who would make the other coffee; it always fell on the comforter. Then slowly and without either one of them noticing, the habit turned into one of warmth and familiarity. A ritual of sorts.

"What's this one for?" Oliver looked quizzically at Felicity's offering hand. "I don't recall anything bad happening today." Their mission had gone well. Spectacular, even.

"Nothing," a blush crept along Felicity's cheeks. "I just finished my work and.. well, you still have much to do and I thought –" at Oliver's twitching lips she thrust the mug at him, almost spilling its contents, with forged impatience. "Just take the stupid thing."

Oliver thanked her then returned the favor the very next day.

Now, it was a sacred thing for them to have their coffee together. Mostly it'd be at night when employees had gone home and the building emptied of everyone but them. They'd sit in silence and do their separate things with two mugs sitting between them. Sometimes he'd ask her about a lead she was on and sometimes she'd offer to help with the endless work he had to do, but mostly their comfortable silence was only interrupted by the sounds of rustling papers and coffee being sipped.

One time their nightly ritual was canceled due to a social event that prevented Oliver from going to the company. As the time of their hour spent together drew near, Oliver grew agitated and annoyed. He had seen Felicity earlier that day and for some reason told her that he won't be there tonight but his thoughts strayed to her anyway and he found it hard not to stare at the clock. At midnight he excused himself and did the stupidest thing ever. He went to her house.

"Oliver?" Felicity, wearing blue PJs and messy hair, raised her eyebrows at him with a bemused smile. "What are you doing here?"

"It's too late for coffee but I hear Chai is just as good," he raised the paper bag with a hesitant grin. His heart was doing a curious dance in his chest. He exhaled a sigh of relief when her smile widened and she moved back a step.

"Come on in," She waved him inside then closed the door. He mused at how small her living room was and how comfortable the couch in it felt. That was the first time he had ever walked into her house and it was also the first of many nights he'd spend there.

Two hours, two cups of hot beverage and a recap of their day later found him asleep on the comfy couch. In the morning he left before she woke up, only to be back a few nights later. He hardly slept at home after that.

It was strange, Oliver thought, how something that started out as an act of kindness had developed into something of such value and meaning. The cups of coffee which started out scarce and far in between, had become an essential part of their days and one that they both looked forward to –although neither one would admit it.

Those hours spent together after the entire city had gone to sleep felt magical and private; in a way it was as if no one but them lived in those hours and the walls they built came crumbling down. Their stories of the day –most of which they spent together anyway- were shared as papers and laptops took a backseat. Their glances and smiles became more frequent and their hands lingered a few seconds longer when he handed her the mug.

Felicity told him of her first love over a cup of tea –she wanted to sleep earlier that night- and Oliver told her about Tommy the day after. On and on the days went and the stories only went deeper and more personal, until one day Oliver realized that his former IT girl now knew him better than anyone else.

The next time they had coffee after that realization, Oliver had leaned down and kissed her and she simply let him.

"Oliver?" Felicity had whispered against his lips.

"Hmm?" he pulled back just enough to look at her. Amusement and mischief danced in her eyes and he resisted the urge to kiss her again. Her hand brushed his cheek and he felt her smiling lips moving against his own.

"You taste like coffee."

A/N: I have a thing for writing late at night and posting right away. I'll probably reread this and cringe later, so just excuse any mistakes or recommend me a beta willing to deal with my odd hours and endless rants. Just kidding.. sorta.

I really hope you liked this and I'd be more than happy to get your feedback. Do you guys like coffee?

Thanks for reading, you guys are the best!

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