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When Felicity woke up the next morning, she wasn't sure where she was. Ok, she knew she was in her apartment, but why was she on her couch? And whose heavy arm was keeping her pinned to his side? Slowly, last night's events started coming back to her, and she carefully lifted her head. Yep, that was Oliver next to her. She snuggled into his side, trying to stop herself from wondering what it all meant – she was going to live in the moment. This moment.
The flurry of knocks at her front door shocked her out of her daydream. The effect it had on Oliver was extraordinary. In two seconds, he became a blur of movement until the man who'd been fast asleep, snoring slightly, was crouched over her, wild-eyed, with a knife pointed at the front door.
"Hey, Felicity! Are you there? Oliver isn't at home, I can't get him on his cell, and any minute his mom is gonna wake up and ask me where he is."
Oliver's expression didn't change. She touched his face, carefully, and his eyes focused on her.
"Oliver. It's ok. It's just Diggle."
He blinked a couple of times, and visibly untensed, carefully climbing over her to stand beside the couch. He looked at the wicked looking knife he was still holding, and sighed.
"Where'd you keep that?" she asked, curious.
He smiled at her.
"I have an ankle holster," he explained, as he slid it back in place.
Diggle knocked again.
"Dammit, Felicity, not you too!"
Oliver quirked an eyebrow.
"Better answer the door before he knocks it down. Uh . . . can I use your bathroom?"
Felicity gave him a look.
"Do you even have to ask?"
She stretched as she stumbled towards her front door, which Diggle was attacking again.
"Ok, ok, I'm coming, jeez."
"Oh, thank god."
Felicity felt guilty when she opened the door – Diggle looked really worried.
"Listen, it's ok. Oliver's here."
Immediately a pleased grin broke out on Diggle's face, and it grew even wider when Oliver emerged from her bathroom.
"Congratulations, you guys! I've been telling that boy to get his head out his ass for weeks."
Felicity blushed. Oliver looked smug. Diggle looked a bit regretful as he continued.
"I hate to break up the party, but his mom is gonna wonder why Oliver isn't there for her first morning back. Unless you want to bring Felicity along and make it official!"
Oliver beamed, and started to answer, just as she shook her head, unable to stop the chorus of noes that came out of her mouth.
"I'd like to stay alive a bit longer, Oliver."
Oliver rolled his eyes.
"My mom isn't like that."
He looked at their sceptical faces.
"Ok, maybe she is. But she'll love you, Felicity."
Sure, Felicity thought. That's what every high-society lady wanted for her handsome billionaire son – the daughter of a cocktail waitress from Las Vegas. Better still, a company employee. But she managed, for once, to keep her thoughts to herself.
"Oliver. She's just been in prison, for months. Let her get back into the flow of things before you spring this on her."
Oliver nodded, reluctantly, and then took her by surprise, wrapping her in a bear hug, kissing her deeply.
"I have to go."
He was still holding on to her, though. She didn't want to let him go, either, but he was right. Diggle took charge.
"I got you your warm-ups and running shoes – I'll take you to the gate and you can pretend you were out for a run."
Oliver nodded and squeezed her hand, before reluctantly letting go.
Felicity was a bit puzzled, though.
"Digg? Uh. I thought you weren't driving Oliver around anymore?"
Oliver gave Diggle a knowing look. Diggle sighed.
"Yes, Oliver. You told me so. The thing is, Felicity, I thought we'd ease her into all the changes. And anyway, Oliver, you were the one who thought she might start hiring new bodyguards if she found out about my change of job."
Oliver raised his hands in surrender, and turned to Felicity.
"I'll see you later, tonight? At the foundry?"
She smiled and agreed. Thank god it was Saturday, and she didn't have to rush off to work.
Felicity spent the rest of the day relaxing, watching old movies, and wondering what Oliver was doing. Wow, you're kind of pathetic, Smoak. Stop pining.
That evening, she went to the foundry as usual, and this time, she managed to park much closer – and if she got a ticket, she thought mulishly, Oliver could pay it. She knew he was already there, as she'd spotted the Ducati parked around the corner from the alley-way entrance. When she went down, Oliver was already wearing the Arrow suit, but was sharpening a few arrows, which she was pretty sure he'd already sharpened. A lot. So maybe he'd been waiting for her, she thought. He smiled when he saw her, but then turned serious.
"Felicity, what did the Count mean when he said I sent you to investigate his project? "
Ooh. Shit.
"Uhh. We've been working on something? Some strange disappearances among the homeless community?"
The wrinkle in between his brows furrowed even more.
"Who's we?"
"She means me, Ollie."
Laurel was walking down the stairs from Verdant, looking apologetic and defiant at the same time. Oliver's face darkened.
"You two are in over your heads – you nearly got killed," he said, pointing at Felicity. "You should have told me about it."
"Your mom's trial . . . you had enough on your mind," Felicity mumbled, even though she realised he was right.
Oliver came up to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"Promise me you'll tell me before doing something like this in the future. I almost lost you."
The last words were whispered, but Laurel's face changed. She'd heard. Felicity couldn't tell from her expression what she thought of the whole thing, and right now, she had other problems.
"I promise," she said, meeting Oliver's intense stare.
He touched her face and gave her a half smile.
"Now, where's this mask you've been texting me about?"
Felicity grinned and did a little fist-pump.
"Yess! I knew I'd wear you down! I don't know what you have against Barry, he's such a nice guy . . ."
She rummaged in the drawer she'd put the box in.
"And I know you're rolling your eyes right now, so stop it."
When she gave him the mask, he looked at it sceptically at first. He put it on, and made a few sudden turns to the left and right, and then put the hood on, and did the same.
"It's good, Felicity. Really great."
Felicity beamed. She'd thank Barry – later though. Oliver was being kind of weird about him.
After he left, she finally had the courage to look at Laurel, who was smirking at her.
"You don't know what he has against Barry, who's such a nice guy?" she scoffed.
Felicity was puzzled.
"Yes, I don't get it. I . . . wait a second, you're saying he's jealous?"
Laurel smiled.
"He's got it bad, Felicity. I can tell."
Felicity blushed, and sat down in front of the monitors. To be honest, she'd been pretty nervous about Laurel's reaction, but she seemed ok with it.
"So, we still don't know what was killing the homeless kids," she said, wanting to get back to business. Strangely enough, all the crime-fighting was less messy than their personal lives.
"But if it was in the syringes the Count had, I sent those to Barry this afternoon. He's a good chemist, so he should find something out pretty soon."
She lifted her head. Had that been a snort from the corner where Laurel was once more rummaging through the Great Wall O' Boxes? She turned in her chair and glared at her.
"I don't know why Oliver feels threatened – I've been crushing on him for a year."
Laurel looked at her, smiling.
"Just kidding, Felicity! And Ollie knows how you feel – it was probably just that you and Barry have so much in common."
"Ok, fine. I get that. But Oliver's the one I – the one I want to be with."
She turned again and looked at Laurel.
"Is that ok? With you, I mean?"
Laurel got up and approached with a file.
"Oliver and I were over a long time ago, Felicity. How did you two meet, anyway?"
Shit! Felicity was stumped for a few seconds. Laurel must be a pretty good lawyer; that question had snuck up out of nowhere.
"Uhh – he had a laptop full of bullet-holes he needed information from."
She remembered something that Oliver had told her later on, and grinned.
"You know he actually told me he spilled a latte on it? And that his coffee shop was in a bad neighbourhood?"
Laurel giggled.
"That's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard."
Felicity sighed in relief. She'd bought it. Oliver would have to be briefed too – she didn't feel ready to talk to anyone about Russia yet. Maybe she never would.
Laurel had decided to investigate Sebastian Blood, as their only other lead, the Count, was now dead. Oliver wasn't too happy about it, especially as Roy was insisting on being part of the investigation. He'd earned a special alleyway visit from the Arrow for that. Oliver made sure Roy got the message – no 'civilians' in the investigation. The last thing he needed was Thea being involved in the vigilante business too. Afterwards, when they checked in with Laurel, she said that Roy had been so star-struck by the one-on-one conversation with his hero, that he didn't even mention Oliver's request.
While all this was going on, Felicity had plenty of time to mull over her night with Oliver. Well, it hadn't been a night, night. They'd made out a lot, and had literally slept together, but there hadn't been more. Now, whenever Felicity came into the foundry, she'd get a kiss from Oliver, rather than just a significant look. And to be fair to Oliver, he'd tried to organise a proper date, but ever since his mother had been found not guilty, the paparazzi had developed a sudden interest in all the Queens. Felicity had to laugh. He'd been so proud of his new boring persona – the only nightclub he'd been seen at was his own, and even then, he'd been letting Thea take over more and more of the running. He'd been careful to keep his presence at Queen Consolidated really low key too. That reminded Felicity of something she'd been wondering about.
"How's your mom dealing with not being C.E.O. anymore? Didn't you say she wanted to come back?"
He had mentioned it a few months ago.
"Yes, she did. Which is why as soon as I heard the verdict, I contacted Walter to persuade her not to."
Felicity raised her eyebrows. Oliver shrugged.
"We've just managed to get the company back from the brink. We had some people poll the general public, and there were plenty who thought the verdict was bullshit. We're also fielding a number of civil lawsuits brought by relatives of the victims. There's no way she can go back to being the figurehead of Queen Consolidated – but I wasn't going to be the one to tell her."
"But what is she going to do, Oliver? I'd go insane without my work, and your mom loved her job."
"Walter said he had a few ideas – he even mentioned a political career. I decided I don't wanna know."
Felicity smirked.
"That reminds me – I haven't looked at your daily TMZ report!"
She quickly pulled it up, and there they were – Moira, Thea, Oliver and Walter, walking into Table Salt for brunch. Moira looked gracious and serene, ignoring the paparazzi's yelled questions. Oliver would have looked unreadable to anyone who didn't know him, though she knew how to read him now. He was seriously pissed off. Walter looked calm, and Thea was suppressing rage.
"What did you have to do to Thea to stop her from yelling at them?"
Oliver sighed. He'd been rubbing his eyebrows.
"I told her I'd take Verdant back and ban her from the premises."
She softened.
"Listen."
He looked at her, his eyes full of hope. And another emotion, which she wasn't keen to examine.
"Tomorrow Kim Kardashian will buy a new dress. Or Beyoncé will release a new surprise album. And no one will follow you guys around anymore."
Oliver nodded.
"Mom decided we were going to eat at home for the foreseeable future. I wanted to throw a party, but everyone shot me down. And you're shaking your head."
Felicity cocked her head to the side. How was she going to say this?
"Oliver, you said yourself that there's people with doubts about the verdict. And anyway, what if you do throw a party, and no-one comes? That would hurt your mom a lot."
Oliver nodded.
"So, we're going to be meeting for lunch tomorrow."
He was holding her hand, and he squeezed it.
"You could come."
They were alone in the foundry. Diggle had gone home, and Laurel was having dinner with her dad. Oliver pulled her closer and an innocent kiss turned into something deeper until she felt breathless and her ears were ringing. He pulled her into his lap, and she wound her arms around him, and just as she thought she might be getting lucky tonight, there was a flurry of activity on the police scanner. They both turned to look at the monitor.
"Bank robbery downtown. Ugh."
She must have sounded really dejected, because Oliver quirked a smile, and kissed her again.
"Listen, I'll take this one, and you'd better go home. It's late, and you have work in the morning. And don't forget that meeting with the investors, when is it, the day after tomorrow?"
She groaned.
"Do I really have to be there?"
Oliver nodded, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head, before grabbing his bow and heading out through the alleyway.
The next day passed without incident, though without meeting Oliver at all. She'd gone to the foundry as usual, but halfway there had received a text message from him – his mom was expecting to spend the evening at home with him and Thea. She felt like sending a grouchy text back, wondering when his mom was going to get a hobby. Or a boyfriend. Instead, she spent five minutes drafting the most supportive, cheeriest text she could think of. Diggle ended up handling all the vigilante stuff, thought the night was strangely quiet.
She'd set up three separate alarms for the next day, each reminding her that she had the meeting with the investors after five, so she'd have to be all gussied up for it. But she'd definitely keep her high heeled sandals in her bag – she couldn't spend all day in them. And she was glad she was wearing her flats when she got a calendar alert that the meeting had been postponed to next week. Though she was still pretty enraged that she'd spent the whole day in a flirty dress, rather than comfortable pants and top. As five pm rolled around, she decided she was out of there – and she hadn't got any texts from Oliver all day. She wasn't even sure they were on for foundry duty tonight. As she stood in the corridor, looking at her phone, wondering what to do, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her. It was Kalika.
"Hi . . . um . . . did we have a meeting?"
Oh god, had she forgotten something? Was the cancellation a mistake?
Kalika smiled, her dimples cheering Felicity up instantly.
"No, no . . . nothing like that. Oliver asked me to give you this."
She handed over a key card, the kind that looked like a hotel door key.
"Queen Consolidated has an apartment in the East Wing – he wanted you to meet him there."
As Kalika gave her directions, Felicity wondered what was going on. Was this going to be their new lair? Was the foundry compromised? Surely doing all Arrow business from QC was much too close – there were so many security cameras here, all it needed was one stray glimpse of the Arrow exiting the building, and comparing all the men of the same height who had entered before.
Felicity wondered about all these things as she wandered off to find the apartment, and only got lost once. The door looked unassuming – like a normal office door, at the end of a long corridor. Except the handle was made of ornate brass, and the key slot was hidden away behind a fancy looking brass plate. She slid it through and opened the door, and was too shocked to move.
She was in another world, separate from the ultra-modern, glass and steel office building she'd just walked through. The lights were out, but there were bowls of candles everywhere, casting pools of flickering light which led her to the end of a short corridor. One or two of them must have been scented, because there was the gentle hint of sun-dappled meadow in the air. She walked along the corridor, dazed, to reach a main room which was decorated in the same way – lots of drapes and candles and silk cushions on a divan which probably functioned as a bed.
There was a low table with an open bottle of wine and two glasses, and leaning against the window, which replaced the entire outside wall, was Oliver. He must have been wearing his good suit for the meeting, but he'd taken the jacket and tie off. He was smiling at her, but there was a hint of nervousness about him. It was already dark outside, so he looked like he was floating on a sea of bright city lights.
"Oliver – this. This is . . . amazing."
He beamed, and walked up to her, taking the card and her bag from her nerveless fingers. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.
"You like my surprise?"
"Yes . . . it's . . . for me?"
His eyes grew dark with longing.
"Yes, Felicity. Only for you."
She wanted him, she realised. Badly. She wasn't going to wait any longer. She wound her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to her, practically attacking him until his tongue plunged into her mouth. She could feel how badly he wanted her as he pulled her up, winding her legs around his waist. He pulled back and smirked.
"No wine?"
"We can have wine after," she hissed.
He carried her over to the divan and deposited her on it, his eyes heating up as he looked at her, sprawled out, her skirt riding up to show the tops of her thighs. He took his shirt off slowly, and her mouth went dry as he threw it aside, impatiently, before joining her on the bed. His hand slid up her thigh, and she caught her breath as he went ever higher, until he stroked her arm, and cupped her breast. She couldn't wait any longer, and quickly turned to the side to let him get at her zipper, pulling it all the way down. She felt shy, suddenly, when she turned back to him, and he must have seen it in her eyes.
"We don't have to-" he started, and she didn't want to let him finish.
She let the top of her dress fall to her waist and he swallowed, forgetting whatever he wanted to say. She thanked whoever was watching out for her that she'd chosen to wear her one and only matching set of lingerie, and got up on her knees to pull the entire dress over her head and throw it to the floor. Then she climbed into his lap, cradling his face.
"Oh, yes we do."
His hands were all over her – on her ass, her breasts, as he kissed her deeply. She could feel his hard cock through his pants, and managed to undo his waistband while they were kissing. She pulled away.
"Condom?"
He nodded, practically throwing himself to the side table, and pulling one out. She took the opportunity to quickly unhook her bra and take it off, giving a sigh of relief as her breasts bounced free. She looked up at him to see him transfixed by her chest, and she couldn't hold back a giggle. He looked up at her face and smiled, lying next to her on the bed. She grabbed his hand and put it on her breast, and he gasped, stroking her gently, tracing the red lines left by her bra. She was squeezing her thighs together, aching for him, and was just about to tell him to get on with it when he dropped his head to her breast, licking and kissing the places he'd just stroked.
"Oh! Oh god, Oliver . . . "
They started kissing again, and at the same time, Oliver deftly hooked his fingers into her panties and drew them down her legs. He pulled back, looking at her intently.
"Is this ok? Am I going too fast?"
A feeling of tenderness grew inside her for this bruised and scarred man, who was so gentle with her, who treated her like she was made of spun glass. She cradled his cheek in one hand and kissed him.
"No, Oliver. Not too fast. I want you."
He closed his eyes, face flushing, and nuzzled her neck, stroking the tops of her thighs. As she let her legs fall open, she felt a moan against her skin, and she put her hand over one of his, guiding his fingers inside her. She knew he'd feel how wet she was, how ready for him, and shivered with anticipation. He slid two fingers inside her, his thumb on her clit, and started circling them, slowly at first, then speeding up as he saw her flush and shudder. She couldn't believe that she was coming already – usually it took her a while to get there, but looking into his eyes, clinging to his chest, she was already there. She cried out as she came, her thighs shaking, and when she came down, he was looking at her with such tenderness in his eyes. She swallowed, and glared at him, reaching behind her for the condom.
"It's not just about me, Oliver! Put it on!"
He smiled, almost shyly, and got up to take his pants off. She lay sprawled out on the bed, knowing exactly what effect she was having on him thanks to the heated glances he was giving her as he undressed. And it was even clearer when he stood in front of her, naked, hard cock curved up towards his belly. Felicity was sure her mouth fell open, because, wow. She'd kind of wondered, that time when he'd saved her from the fire, and now she knew. He kneeled on the bed, and seemed to see some apprehension in her face. Just as he was probably going to ask her again if she was sure, she latched onto his neck and pulled him down on top of her, spreading her legs as wide as she could. He slid inside her, slowly, and she gasped as he stretched her wider than she'd been used to, lately, lifting one of her legs onto his shoulder, so that he could get even deeper. Oliver paused, biting his lip.
"You ok?" she asked.
"I'm fine," he croaked.
"Oh god, don't do that," he begged, as she started giggling.
"Sorry, sorry," she murmured, stroking his shoulders.
He started moving inside her, slowly, taking his time. She was overpowered by him – acres of warm skin surrounding her, the bulk of him, inside her, on top of her. She felt like she was drunk with it, pleasantly buzzed after her orgasm. She noticed how he bit his lip every time he thrust home, and realised he was trying hard not to come too soon. Suddenly he lifted her other leg over his shoulder, changing the angle so that every time he grazed her clit as he thrust, and she squealed and whimpered helplessly as his every thrust set off fireworks in her head. She grabbed onto his shoulders as he started a rhythm, filling her relentlessly, until she came a second time, and he wasn't long behind, gasping, saying her name, over and over, and finally groaning as his hips slowed down. He collapsed in the cradle of her hips, trying to stay on his elbows so as not to crush her, and in those blissful post-orgasm seconds when her inner muscles were spasming on his still hard cock, whispered something in her ear.
Oliver breathed heavily as he levered himself off her and collapsed by her side. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. He quickly got rid of the condom, and pulled up a blanket to cover them both – she hadn't even realised that she'd started shivering. He was stroking her hair and smiling at her.
"You ok?"
She couldn't even answer him.
"It's what I said, right?"
How could he read her so well? She nodded, still unable to speak. He just went on stroking her hair, his expression unchanging.
"I meant it. It wasn't just the-"
"Orgasm?" she interjected.
"Yeah, that," he said. "I love you."
Oh god. He'd said it again. How come he was so eloquent, and she was speechless? Wasn't it supposed to be the other way round?
"You don't have to say it back, Felicity. I just wanted you to know. This isn't just . . . nothing, to me."
He started kissing her face again, her cheeks, the corners of her mouth, her eyelids. She couldn't hold back a yawn, and he laughed.
"Go to sleep," he whispered.
She wanted to stay awake, to discuss this, what it meant, but dozed off in the middle of trying to work it out.
Felicity woke up in stages – at first it was almost impossible to keep her eyes open, but after a couple of false starts, she managed. The light around her was muted and flickering, but the candles were still lit, so she guessed she hadn't been asleep for long. She was pleasantly sore, her muscles ached, and she smiled a little at the memory of how she got that way. Then she frowned. Oliver wasn't next to her. Had he left?
She lifted her head up – no, there he was, sitting in a large armchair, staring out the huge window at the lights of the city. He'd told her once he still had some trouble sleeping. She obviously hadn't tired him out enough, she thought. She'd better fix that. She wasn't even going to drive herself crazy over what he'd said – she needed to examine her feelings about Oliver first. It wasn't something she'd expected.
She got off the bed as quietly as she knew how, and opened the drawer Oliver had gotten the condom from, snagging another one. She wanted to be self-confident enough to just sashay over there stark naked, but cringed at the thought, so she grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around her like a toga. Her sexy walk to the window was spoiled by tripping over the trailing sheet, and swearing a little. When she looked up, Oliver was smiling at her, and holding out his hand. When she joined him, she realised that he clearly wasn't self-conscious about nudity. Why should he be, right? He was gorgeous. His smile widened.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Felicity."
Felicity blushed.
"Did I just call you gorgeous out loud? I did, didn't I? I don't know if you noticed, but I tend to babble a lot, especially after mind-blowing sex with a Greek god who's got an enormous -"
This time she managed to stop herself with both hands over her mouth, though she'd clearly said enough. Oliver was looked half embarrassed, half pleased with himself. He pulled her into his lap, and started tugging the sheet away, and she pretended to hold on to it, as he nuzzled and kissed her neck and breasts. She gave up the fight for the sheet, and straddled him, latching onto his mouth and they kissed for a while. His thumb was getting busy with her clit, and she moaned into his mouth as he started thrusting inside her with his fingers. She pulled away and found the condom which had gotten tangled in the sheet and waved it at him. He grabbed it from her and put it on fast, and she lowered herself slowly onto his cock, biting her lower lip as she bore down. There was a slightly stunned look on his face as she bottomed out and started riding him, ever so slowly, keeping a steady rhythm. She held onto his shoulders as he rubbed her clit until she came, whimpering his name, and gasping nonsense babble into his neck. He wrapped his arms tight round her and thrust up a couple of times, groaning into her hair. She shuddered as she came down, and stroked his back, kissing his chest. She climbed off his lap and snuggled up under his arm, and they watched the lights of the city grow brighter as the night darkened.
It was three in the morning when they left the apartment, trying to walk while holding hands and kissing. They went to her car in the parking garage, as he didn't trust himself on the bike, and drove her home. They kissed some more in front of her apartment, and then he sighed and pulled away.
"I can't stay."
Felicity nodded.
"Though I could tell my mom I was staying at my girlfriend's place."
Felicity shook her head, eyes wide.
"No, no- wait." She grinned. "I'm your girlfriend!"
Oliver's smile was probably as wide as hers.
"Yes, you are."
She wound her arms about his neck and pulled him in for another kiss. She still wasn't ready to come clean to his mom, though, and managed to persuade Oliver that it wasn't the right time, yet.
The next few weeks seemed to pass in a dream, for Felicity – a frequently X-rated dream, she thought. She'd like to blame it on Oliver being insatiable, but it wasn't like she was any better. And because of his mom's recent clinginess, her work, and vigilante duty, they often had to snatch a couple of minutes in between one crisis and another.
Particularly memorable was the time Diggle went home early, to meet his 'contact in ARGUS', and Oliver had come back to the foundry after every single alert resulted in the cops handling it before him. He'd stalked in, practically vibrating with pent-up adrenaline, and she'd stared at him for a few seconds, before launching herself at him, her legs curling around his ass, forcing him to catch her. His eyes had heated up behind his mask, and his cock had hardened instantly.
"Don't I even get to change?" he asked innocently.
God, he has so much self-control, Felicity thought. I feel like my skin is on fire and he can still make small talk.
"Not if you want to fuck me," she said.
She actually felt his cock twitch against her, and smirked as he had to close his eyes and bite his lip. He walked them to the table where he sharpened his arrows, pushed them to the side, and deposited her on it. His eyes widened behind his mask as she showed him the condom she'd put in her bag that morning. She unzipped his pants and put it on him, while he got busy getting rid of her panties. A ripping sound made her frown up at him.
"Oliver! I liked that pair!"
His skin flushed as he pushed up her knee and slid inside her with a moan.
"I'll buy you a new pair . . . oh god . . . I'll buy you fifty . . . "
She whimpered as he started thrusting, and wrapped her legs around his ass to pull him deeper, every thrust making her nerves jangle with pleasure. He kissed her neck and caressed her breasts as he used his fingers to bring her off. She wailed as she came, and he paused, his head hanging as he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. When he opened them again, the wicked look in them made her shiver. What was he planning? He pulled out, holding on to the condom carefully, and turned her around so that she was standing on tiptoe, bent over the table. As she held on to the edge, he pushed up her knee, opening her up to him, and slid inside her again, deeper this time. He draped himself over her back, his fingers on her clit once more, and started thrusting. The table rocked with each thrust, arrows rolling around and falling off, and when she almost slipped, he curled one arm around her waist and supported them both with the other, as he nuzzled and gently bit at her neck.
She was falling again, crying out as she came, and this time he followed her, groaning through gritted teeth as his cock twitched inside her.
They collapsed on the floor, out of breath, and she turned to him, unbearably happy. He was smiling too, and as she pushed his mask off, he crushed her in his arms, burying his face in her hair.
Once or twice they had a mini video conference with Barry, who was busily working on whatever the Count had left behind. Barry sounded even more hyper than usual, probably because he'd been forced to take some time off by his boss.
"It's really interesting – doesn't seem to function like a drug at all. Not like a mood altering drug anyway. "
He then rattled off a series of numbers, letters and chemical components which she guessed would mean something to her if she was a chemist. Which she wasn't. He hadn't stopped talking.
"See, it seems to be designed to increase strength but also aggression, which doesn't make sense. And there's some stuff there I can't make any sense of. But I'm getting there, you guys."
Barry was starting to sound manic, and Felicity was worried. She looked at Oliver, to see if he noticed it too, and was transfixed by his expression. It was like he was lost in a memory for a second, then shook it off as she watched. She turned to the screen instead. She'd ask him later.
"Hey, Barry. Barry."
He stopped the long and technical explanation he was giving of all the chemicals in the syringe, and Felicity shuddered at the thought that it had almost been injected into her.
"You need a rest. You can continue afterwards. Go home. Get some sleep."
As if her words contained some spell, Barry yawned.
"You're right, Felicity, as always. I'll call you when I have something."
He signed off, and Felicity noticed that at some point, Oliver's hand had landed on her shoulder, almost possessively. She sighed.
"Oliver. Are you jealous of Barry?"
He had that fake innocent look in his eyes, but she only needed to cock her head to one side to get him to own up.
"Maybe? A little? Or I was, until . . . "
Felicity blushed.
"Until?" she asked.
He smiled down at her, his thumb rubbing her neck. He bent down, kissing her softly, deepening the kiss as she wound her arms round his neck. They both heard the locks disengage and pulled apart, reluctantly, as Laurel and Diggle came down the stairs. They seem to be making more noise than usual, Felicity thought. She giggled, and whispered in Oliver's ear.
"I think they're afraid of catching us in the act."
Oliver smirked, and kissed her on the forehead.
"I'm pretty sure Digg found some of the arrows on the floor the other day," he murmured. "You know."
Oh, yes. She knew alright. They managed to straighten up and disengage in time, and even though Laurel raised an eyebrow, and Diggle rolled his eyes, no one said anything.
Sometimes she wondered if they were moving too fast, that they'd burn out if they went on like this. Though when she did, it wasn't her mother's voice she heard, urging caution. It was her own. She smiled ruefully. Mom wouldn't have said that we're moving too fast, she thought. Her reaction would have sounded more like 'woo hoo!' She was sure a 'you go girl!' would have been in there somewhere too.
Thoughts of her mother reminded her that it would soon be Hanukah, and when Oliver came over, he found her digging out her menorah and preparing candles. She actually only had two left, and made a mental note to buy a box. She explained the meaning behind the ritual to him, and a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over her, as she remembered being shown how to light the candles as a little girl.
"I don't think mom was religious, really. And I don't think I am, either. Except we used to do these things together, and now that she's gone-"
"You do them to be close to her," Oliver said, nodding.
He was staring into space, and she knew, intuitively, that he was thinking about his father. He'd told her his father had shot himself on the lifeboat, so that there'd be enough water for Oliver. He hadn't told her what happened after. She squeezed his hand, hoping she was reassuring him.
"I've never told anyone this," he began, and then stopped. "I don't even know if you want to hear it."
Felicity looked at him, trying to convey support in her eyes.
"Anything you want to tell me, Oliver, I want to hear. "
Oliver sighed, and leaned back on her couch, but held on to her hand.
"When I landed on the island . . . my dad . . . I had to bury him."
Felicity nodded, hoping she was hiding the horror she felt – she tried to imagine Oliver at twenty-two, essentially still an overgrown teenager, having to deal with that, alone.
"It felt like the hardest thing I ever did. It still is, I think. I didn't even know how to do it right. I just put him under a pile of rocks, at first."
He tried to shrug casually, even though she could see the tear slipping out of the corner of his eye.
"Those first weeks, months on the island, I didn't have time to deal with it, so I just pushed it aside. I mean, sure, I had hallucinations of him, but that was just because I was starving, I guess."
Felicity nodded, her horror growing. Now she realised why Oliver hated talking about those five years.
"And after Lian Yu, I was always on the run, always going from one crisis to another – if I stopped, I was dead."
She nodded, again. She knew how that felt, on a smaller scale.
"But coming back home – it was like I finally had time to think. And at first I thought if I just did what he asked, I'd feel better . . . closer to him."
He shook his head, as if to say it hadn't worked.
"Turns out it was all for nothing. All I did was make things worse."
Felicity squeezed his hand tighter. She hated hearing Oliver beat himself up like that. She cradled his cheek, and made him meet her eyes.
"You did your best, Oliver. No-one could have done any better with the information you had. More people would have died if you weren't there to stop Malcolm."
He tried to look away, but she wouldn't let him. She cradled his face in her hands, willing him to believe her. He bent his head, trying to hide his tears.
"He wasn't perfect, Felicity. But I miss him, I miss him so much . . ."
She rubbed his back as he cried on her shoulder, and that evening they just slept, exhausted, too drained to do more than exchange chaste kisses before they dropped off.
The day when it all changed, Felicity had been working late. One of the projects she and her team were juggling hit a roadblock, and they all stayed on to hammer it out. Afterwards, Felicity was exhausted and had eye-strain from looking through hundreds of lines of code, but she'd promised Oliver she'd go to the lair, no matter how late it got.
The foundry was empty when she walked in. Everything was on, though, so she put on her headset, and immediately jumped, as machine gun fire sounded in her ear. Once it died down, she tried a tentative greeting.
"Um. Oliver? Guys?"
"Hey, Felicity," Diggle said. "Finally made it?"
"Are you ok?" she asked, worried about Oliver.
"We're both fine," she heard Oliver say, and felt instantly better.
"We're all done here, should be back soon. Is there anything new? Do we need to stop somewhere on our way back?"
Felicity looked at the monitor – the police scanner was quiet tonight.
"No, I can't see anything. Seems to be fine here. Verdant's up and running though, better come through the alley."
The security cameras she'd set up inside Verdant covered the dancefloor and the bar, so she had a clear view of anyone who preferred to spend the night drinking.
It was a slow night. There was only one man at the bar, in a business suit, drinking clear liquor. As she looked at him she felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was something familiar about him. Something horribly familiar. Oliver was saying something, but his words were obscured by a growing buzzing in her ears. She whispered, almost to herself.
"There's someone here."
Felicity took off the headset slowly, as if in a dream. After she'd met Oliver in Starling City, he'd told her more about the people he'd worked with, in Russia. So she knew their names, now. Their faces, on the other hand, were burned into her brain. And sitting at the bar, in Verdant, a few metres above her head, was Anatoli Knyazev.