This chapter was originally rated "E." The smut was redacted. You can visit Archive of Our Own for the unedited version.
Warnings for frank conversations about sex during and after paralysis, scotch used as anxiety medication, and a little red dress.
Of Redemption and Inebriation:
Date 3: Scotch, Neat
June 6, 2016
The mussels were clean. The bread was sliced. The ingredients for the wine sauce was set neatly aside so they could be combined in a matter is seconds. The lobster ravioli had been carefully crafted by hand and was in the refrigerator ready to be boiled, the water simmering for later use. The ice cream for the Baked Alaska was scooped and shaped and waiting in the freezer.
Oliver blew out a breath and grabbed his tumbler of scotch, throwing back a decent sized mouthful. He probably shouldn't be making so many `a la minute dishes. The Caprese salad, at least, was ready to go, but still, he couldn't help but think he should have planned this better.
The problem was Oliver had wanted the meal to be both special and light. Lasagna was great to make ahead, but wasn't exactly the best idea for the third date. The date Felicity had declared the sex date.
Not that Oliver was expecting anything. He could, and would, wait as long as it took for her to feel ready. But, the thing was, he had the distinct impression that Felicity was expecting things. And, on top of that, it wouldn't just be their first time together since the break-up. It would also be their first time since…well, since she got her legs back. And that idea stirred up so much inside of him, he couldn't even imagine what it was like for her.
Oliver swallowed the rest of the scotch in one gulp, feeling the warm wave that followed soothe his nerves. Picking up the bottle, he checked out just how much he had drank. Probably, more than he should have. Definitely, more than he usually would.
It was rare that Oliver didn't stop drinking before he felt much of anything. But judging by the liquid heat spreading through his muscles and relaxing the considerable tension, he'd already left that point while back. He'd have to be careful.
He wasn't much of a drinker, not since the old days. Oliver, actually, hated being drunk. Hated losing control. And absolutely refused to drink to the point where it might affect his memory. A potential blackout was as terrifying as it was unacceptable. He had a hard time remembering why he had ever enjoyed it. He used to think it funny. It seemed so stupid now.
But, luckily, Oliver was also a guy with a high tolerance, whether due to genetics or a holdover from his so-called college days, because it had allowed him to take the olive branch offered by Felicity in the form of Jose Cuervo and Green Arrow shot glasses, which just may have been one of the best decisions he had ever made.
And, because tonight…tonight he needed something.
There was something about Felicity and dates that made Oliver insanely nervous. Like real, formal, official dates. Not hanging out and watching Netflix. Or even bumming around Europe. But when she dressed up and he dressed up and he showed her a good time and it was like…well, it just felt like there was a lot riding on it. Like it was an interview or something. Which was insane. Because this was Felicity.
But, also, it was Felicity. And she was giving him a second chance. Or maybe a third or fourth, depending on how he looked at it. Regardless, Oliver really couldn't chance messing this one up. He had the distinct feeling that this was the last chance he was going to get.
Besides that, Felicity could change her mind at any moment. Decide Oliver wasn't worth the trouble and the danger and the…he poured himself another drink of scotch. He wasn't going to get drunk, but he didn't want to mess this up by being tense or weird either. Why was he only tense and weird when it actually mattered?
Oliver checked his watch. Felicity should be there in 15-20 minutes. If he started the mussels now, he could put them on low when she arrived and they would be perfect when they were ready to eat.
Maybe he should have done something simpler. Fancy dates usually ended in gunfire and explosions.
But this place had been swept for bombs and bugs. Oliver's clothes too. The coms were shut down. There was no one who would dare interrupt them. There were no current big bads in town, so…
But then again, maybe the real problem was that this wasn't them. Their second date had been at Big Belly Burger and it had been great. Oliver and Felicity had shut the place down, talking for hours and all after she had actually helped him find an apartment.
Yes, Oliver had his own apartment. His first as a matter-of-fact. Like a real grown-up, which he supposed a mayor should be. It was a month-to-month lease and he really hoped it wouldn't last long, but it didn't feel like the crushing defeat it once would have. The mayor couldn't exactly get his mail at the Arrow Bunker and going slow to build a solid foundation meant no moving home…er, to the Loft.
Also, on the upside, Oliver now had a shiny new one-bedroom apartment that he could bring Felicity to tonight. One their third date. The sex date.
This whole dating thing was fucking bizarre. Who made these rules? Who said date three was the sex date? Why not four? Why not two? Two was probably too soon…but even the counting was odd.
Oliver had had to be very careful as to what he counted as a date. He didn't want to get to date three too soon, which sounded completely insane, even in his head, but date three just couldn't be lunch in the mayor's office. It had to be special.
And really, they were together all the time. Not necessarily alone, but together. Either in the Loft, fixing the damage. Or in the bunker…though that was a lot less than usual since mayoring post disaster #4 was time consuming.
The Bunker's rebuilding had had to be left mostly to Curtis and Felicity. Oliver showed up for the heavy lifting and quick patrols, just to make sure the city could see that the Green Arrow was still out there, watching, protecting the streets. But his energy, right now, was better spent in City Hall.
And with Felicity temporarily not in charge of the company (Oliver refused to call it by his previous rival's name, even in his head) he'd been able to bring her to City Hall to help. (More non-date time together…not that he was complaining.)
At first, Oliver's staff and the City Council had been put off by the idea of the new Interim Mayor inviting his girlfriend to private city matters…wow, she was his girlfriend again…thank God…
But ten minutes of seeing what Felicity could do and the City Council had hired her as IT Consultant in rebuilding Star City. It was a temporary position, but it allowed her to help the city and be near Oliver.
Though to be completely honest, what Oliver really wanted was a situation like he had had when he was CEO and Felicity had been at his side 24/7. Maybe not as his EA, but…Chief of Staff, maybe?
Oh, Oliver knew it was time to put on his big boy pants. He couldn't run every decision he made for this city by his girlfriend…but, these were some pretty fucking big decisions he had to make and, sometimes, the idea that someone was letting him make them seemed insane.
So…more scotch…? Or no more scotch? That was the question. Maybe just a little bit more.
The mussels were starting to open so Oliver added the wine. And, right on cue, the phone buzzed.
Felicity:
This restaurant is closed. Why is it closed?
Oliver smiled. The scotch was doing its job to relax him and Felicity was… Felicity. This was going to be a good night. He could feel it. He would make certain that it was.
Not even bothering to waste time texting back, Oliver just turned the mussels down to the lowest setting, yanked off his apron, and grabbed his suit jacket as he walked briskly to the front of the restaurant. He made certain his jacket and tie lie correctly before fumbling with the lock. And when he opened the door…
God…Felicity….
Oliver knew he was standing there grinning like an idiot. He could feel it on his face. It was a look that Digg never failed to tease him about and one that made Thea roll her eyes in a pleased sort of way. But he couldn't control it even if he wanted to (and he didn't want to) because Felicity…she had never looked this exquisite.
"I thought this was the right place," Felicity sighed, grinning up at him, her hands fluttering as she spoke. "It looks different since, you know, it exploded, and, also, it's closed, which seems really weird unless you bought the place out. You didn't rent the entire place, did you? Because you are not a billionaire anymore, Oliver. You keep forgetting that."
"They're closed today. Antoine let me borrow the restaurant. Perks of being Interim Mayor," Oliver told her, still smiling. All of the tension had drained completely out of him and Oliver thanked God for scotch. It may just be Felicity's presence, but he thanked God for her a least a dozen times a day.
"Oh. That's good. How did you—"
Letting himself follow his instincts, Oliver grabbed her expressive hands and pulled her inside, stopping her mid-babble. Swiftly locking the door behind her, he pulled her into his arms to kiss those red, red lips. Felicity rose to her toes to meet him.
They were alone, for once, and he'd probably had a bit too much scotch, so Oliver kissed her longer than a simple welcome kiss demanded, opening her mouth and exploring her wonderful Felicity taste.
When she fell back onto the balls of her feet, Felicity licked her lips and Oliver watched the progress of her tongue. She had the most amazing lipstick. It never smeared. And the best part, she never worried about him smearing it.
"You've been drinking scotch." It wasn't an accusation. Felicity was smiling up at him, looking deliriously happy. It made Oliver dizzy. Far drunker than from his expensive liquor.
"Do you want some?" Oliver murmured, surprised at how deep and rough his own voice sounded already. "I got Pinot Grigio for dinner, but—"
Felicity cut him off with a shake of her head. "I only like scotch on you."
Well, that was an invitation if Oliver had ever heard one. His hands circled her waist and he lifted her against him so that Felicity was able to meet his kiss half-way. He made sure to slide his tongue over hers slowly and thoroughly, to make sure she got a really good taste of that scotch.
When this one ended, Oliver twirled a soft blond curl around his finger. It was down in thick, chunky curls, only the top and sides pinned up loosely. No glasses. While he adored her glasses, sometimes, he loved her with her contacts, because her eyes were just so blue and there was nothing in the way of him getting lost in them.
"You look gorgeous," Oliver sighed, breathing her in.
Felicity's smile widened. She looked incredibly pleased with herself. It was a very sexy look on her if he did say so himself. Stepping back, she spread her arms, giving Oliver a better view.
"You like? I figured since I'm not CEO anymore, I can be a little more risqué." Then Felicity twirled, honest-to-God twirled, somehow, managing to look both bashful and bold at the same time. "Of course, I hadn't realized how much privacy we'd have."
And, Christ, Oliver got his first real look at the dress. His mouth went dry. There were no words.
It was red, because, of course, it was red. I was also strapless and tight to the waist where it flared out, falling to almost mid-thigh. Who was he kidding? It barely covered her remarkable ass. Thank God, no one else was here. And those legs…those long beautiful, miraculous legs seemed to go on forever and ended in the most delectable pair of strappy silver heels.
"I…Christ, Felicity. I…red's most definitely your color."
Felicity's dimples peaked out and she crossed her arms behind her back, rocking a bit on her heals. "So you've said."
The implication...that Felicity had bought this dress with Oliver in mind, because she knew he loved her in this color, while such a small thing, after everything, it just…seemed anything but small. It filled him with warmth and pride and maybe a little bit of badly needed confidence.
Oliver held out his hand to her and he led Felicity to the single round table set for two, where he pulled out a chair for her.
Felicity smoothed down her skirt as she sat. "I thought you were going to try to be less perfect?"
Smiling, Oliver poured the Pinot Grigio. He was having a hard time taking that as a reprimand, particularly with the way Felicity's eyes shined in the candlelight. "I am," he defended, though it was maybe a little lie, because tonight perfect was definitely a goal. Tonight was important.
Sipping her wine, Felicity tilted her head, as if considering. "Well, I do believe you are failing. Even the wine is perfect."
Oliver chuckled and leaned down behind her to whisper, "Give me one night to be perfect, okay?"
Felicity tipped her head back and Oliver dropped a kiss onto her lips. They had kissed in this position a hundred times when she was in the wheelchair. But never since. They'd only shared a handful of kisses since. The memory brought a hard ball of emotion to his chest, making it a little hard to breathe.
"I'll get our first course," Oliver murmured, his voice coming out harsh and rough in the silent room.
He was almost at the door to the kitchen when he heard, "Oliver." Glancing over his shoulder he met Felicity's eyes. "Even if it isn't perfect…it's perfect. You know?"
All he was able to manage was a small nod and an even smaller smile, before disappearing through the door. There, Oliver gave himself a full minute to breathe and collect himself. This evening was already turning out to be…more than he anticipated. There was so much potential. He couldn't let it fall apart because he was overwhelmed.
One more gulp of scotch and he plated the first course.
As Oliver carried out the bowl of mussels and broth, he wondered if serving from one bowl was an overstep, but he'd chosen something they could eat with their hands on purpose and, well, it was more subtle than tequila at least. He set the bowl on the table between them. He'd carefully arranged the chairs next to each other, instead of across the table.
"That smells amazing," Felicity moaned, leaning over and breathing in the aroma. And that look, the look on her face right then, that was why Oliver loved to cook.
Felicity didn't pause to mention the single bowl, or anything else for that matter, she just reached in and scooped up a mussel, bringing it to her lips and slurping it down with enthusiasm. This was why Oliver loved her. One of the many, many reasons.
"Mmmm. Oh my God." Her eyes closed and her head tilted back just so. What would it take for him to have this every night for the rest of his life? Oliver would do anything.
"What?" Felicity asked when she finally opened her eyes.
No doubt, Oliver was staring at her like the love sick fool that he was. He shook his head, smiling. He really didn't trust his voice.
"I skipped lunch, I'll have you know. Whether it was in anticipation of a big dinner or because of nerves, well…either way I might be a tiny bit ravenous," Felicity told him, just this side of defensively.
Oliver chuckled. If only Felicity knew what she did to him, she would know that the last thing she needed to be was nervous. Clearing his throat, he managed to say, "I'm just glad you're enjoying it."
"For the record," Felicity said, grabbing another shell, "I take back all my drunken ramblings about perfection and cooking being a bad thing. Be as perfect as you want in the kitchen. Please."
The room Oliver wanted to be perfect in sure as hell in wasn't the kitchen. And, maybe it was the scotch, but Oliver was having a really hard time taring his eyes from Felicity's lips as she ate. It was the sexiest fucking thing he had ever seen. Any amount of effort the mussels took…totally worth it.
"You're not eating," Felicity accused, softly. "Here." She scooped up a mussel and held it to Oliver's lips, her other hand cupping bellow the shell to catch the drips of wine broth. He wanted to capture that hand and lick every drop clean.
Oliver opened his mouth for the mussel and grinned as it hit his tongue. They tasted exactly the way he wanted them to taste. And Felicity was feeding him and smiling just as he had hoped she would. This was about the time when a psychopath burst through the window, things were going that well.
But, incredibly, that didn't happen, so Oliver reminded himself that his bow and quiver were conveniently hidden in the hostess stand, before leaning forward to give Felicity a kiss. She tasted like garlic and white wine and Felicity.
After that, every morsel that graced Felicity lips came from his hand. It was everything Oliver had been afraid to imagine. More.
They finished the bowl like that. With few words. Only hums of pleasure as they fed each other and stole kisses in between and, for a time, the last few months just seemed like a bad dream. It was almost too good to be true.
By the time they were done with the first course, Oliver was dizzy and breathless in a way that had nothing to do with either the scotch or the Pinot Grigio. But he was extremely grateful for the pleats in his pants.
"I'm going to get the salads," Oliver whispered against Felicity's mouth, enjoying the soft, pillowy softness of her lips against his as he spoke.
"Do they require forks?"
Oliver chuckled. Eating salad with your fingers did not seem sexy in the slightest. "Ummm hmm."
He pulled back in time to witness Felicity pout, which he adored far too much. Oliver pressed one last kiss to that plump lower lip and stood. Personally, he was glad for a course that required a little less contact. Otherwise, he was never going to get through dinner.
But as he turned, Felicity called out, "Where's the fun in that?" And it made Oliver grin.
The Caprese Salad only needed a drizzle of balsamic, so Oliver was back out the door and to the table in no time. Felicity looked somewhat disappointed when he set down two separate plates in front of them.
He didn't comment. Though, it caused a rush of heat to spiral through his body. He just picked up his fork and knife and began cutting the tomato and mozzarella. "How did your meeting with Curtis go?" Oliver asked as he placed a bite in his mouth, doing his best to keep his voice normal. Also, the homemade mozzarella was definitely worth the effort as well.
Felicity's eyebrows shot up. "That's what you want to talk about?" There was just enough of a leer in her expression to make Oliver's cock twitch.
Carefully draping a napkin in his lap, Oliver nodded. "If we want to get through dinner, then…yes."
Felicity gave him a look, a not particularly pleased look, and shifted her chair so that their knees were touching, before slowly, carefully taking a bite of her salad and chewing. How the hell did she make eating salad look so damn sensual? It must be the eyes. Deep and intense and full of promise.
"And that's a bad thing?" Felicity whispered after she had swallowed and licked her lips clean. Her tone sent electric shocks skittering across Oliver's skin.
It was a very good thing that Oliver was a patient man. "Well, I may have hand-made lobster ravioli for the main course…"
Felicity's eyes widened and her whole demeanor changed so fast that Oliver had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. She sat back and a slow smile spread over her face. "Okay then. Conversation it is." She was so damn adorable. "Actually, I have good news," Felicity leaned forward with an entirely different kind of light in her eyes. "Curtis quit Palmer Tech."
Oliver almost dropped his fork. "And that's good news?"
"Yup." Felicity almost glowed with excitement as she told him. "Curtis told that soulless ass, Dennis, and the rest of the board of mindless money grubbers that he refused to work at PT without me. And he took our four next best minds with him."
"Wow," Oliver breathed. Just wow. It was incredible and made him sort of glow with pride. It also gave him deep satisfaction to stick it to the asses who were now ruining his family's company, but he couldn't help but worry about these people's families. Could Curtis and Paul live on just Paul's salary?
"Wait, that's not even the best part. Palmer Tech may have the rights to the battery and the implant, but neither are ready for production. And without me and Curtis to work out the bugs…" Felicity's grin was just a tiny bit evil.
Oliver shook his head, but he was sure his pride was obvious. "Do you think they'll ask you to come back?"
Felicity shrugged. "If they don't, Curtis and I have been discussing starting our own company. Walter expressed interest in backing us."
"Of course, he would." Anyone in their right mind would give Felicity any amount of money she asked for. And Oliver wasn't even exaggerating. It was just a matter of fact and good judgement. "Which would you prefer, your own company or to get back PT?" God, he hated calling it that.
Titling her head to the side, Felicity seemed to be considering. "I'm not sure. Palmer Tech holds the patent on the Implant and I want it to released. But on the other hand, it would be so awesome to tell them all to frak the hell off."
They shared a wide grin at that. They had both fantasied about flipping off that damn room of suits for years. The names and faces changed, but not much else.
Felicity put a careful bite of salad in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before she turned her eyes to meet Oliver's and asked, "What do you think?"
Oliver was a little surprise by the question, though he wasn't sure why. "What you should do?" Felicity nodded. "Whatever makes you happ—"
Felicity stopped him with a hand on top of his. "No. Not the good boyfriend answer. I know you'll support me in whatever I decide. I want to know what you think. Because I value you your opinion and because we're partners. So…what do you think? Unfiltered. Imperfect. Your honest thoughts."
Blowing out a breath, Oliver placed his fork down and turned his hand over under hers to lace their fingers together. Was this what normal, healthy couples did? It felt like…not a test…oh, maybe it did feel like a test. A test of this new relationship. The first time they really tried to make those subtle changes that were really huge. To do things differently.
It was terrifying. Oliver really wished he hadn't left his scotch in the kitchen.
"Well…" Oliver started slowly, gathering his thoughts. "If you had your own company, you would have complete control. Among other things, your schedule would be completely your own. And that would certainly be better for our nighttime activities."
"Wait, are we talking about Arrowing or our other nighttime activities?" she teased, her eyebrows wagging. Felicity trying to be suggestive was just the most adorable thing. And it was pretty great that she was discussing other nighttime activities like they were a foregone conclusion.
"Both," Oliver laughed, giving her a wink in the spirit of the moment, because this was already getting very serious and a little lightness was needed. "Overall, it would be a lot easier to balance work and crime fighting if you and Curtis were in complete control of a company and we wouldn't have to worry about hiding the trail of information or Tech or…anything."
Felicity bit her lip. "So, you think that I should tell them to shove it where the sun don't shine if they ask me to come back?"
It was a satisfying image. "As nice as that sounds..." Oliver sighed, considering. Well, Felicity had asked for his complete, unabridged thoughts. "This might be selfish, but…"
Felicity squeezed Oliver's hand. "I want to hear all your thoughts."
This was the scary part. There was a reason Oliver was so guarded. His thoughts were sometimes dark and scary, other times just self-centered. He had no idea how Felicity would react to his unabridged thoughts.
"So," Oliver averted his eyes. He couldn't look at her while he said this, but he still held her hand tightly. "I know it's been Palmer Tech for a while now, but…well, I'll always think of it as my family's company—"
"Of course, you do."
Oliver gave Felicity a relieved smile. If she hadn't been okay with that part, he didn't know how he could say the rest. "And, well, with you in charge, it felt like it was still in the family. Even after the break-up. I knew the company was in good…ethical hands."
Smiling, Felicity titled her head and gazed at him softly. "Why would you think that was selfish?"
Oliver pressed his lips together and groaned to himself. If she could see the way it was in his head, she would understand. "Well, because…because I really had hoped the company would have the Queen name again…that's not why I proposed," he reassured quickly. He really didn't want Felicity to even entertain that particular thought.
"I know that."
The tender look on Felicity's face kept Oliver talking. "It's selfish because I got to have my cake and eat it too. The company was back in the family, but I didn't actually have to run it…and I know it might seem like the Queen Legacy doesn't mean anything to me, but I had thought…someday, if they were so inclined, our children might want to take over…"
It took Oliver a moment to realize that Felicity had suddenly gone stony and his stomach dropped. She was frowning and…actually, she looked stricken, almost devastated. He just…he had no idea what was…oh, Christ what had he said now?
"You do think it's selfish." Though this seemed to be an over-reaction to that. Unless, Felicity was starting to think she made a mistake by trying this again with him. "If you want to start your own company," Oliver was quick to add, desperately trying to figure out what to say to make it better, "I—"
"Oliver," Felicity seemed to be visibly gathering her strength, "you said our children."
Okay. Now, Oliver didn't know what to say. She didn't want children? They hadn't spoken that much about it, but they had said someday and…now, he was really confused and his anxiety was climbing fast.
"I thought…" Felicity whispered, "I thought you didn't want to have children."
Oliver reeled back as if he had been slapped, but he refused to let go of her hand. He didn't want children? "What gave you that impression?" He was pretty sure he had told her quite explicitly that he did.
Felicity's mouth fell open and she shook her head in confusion. "Oliver… you sent William away. You said it wasn't safe."
"So, you thought that meant…" The pieces were starting to click together. Oh Christ.
"That you were unilaterally making the decision to never have children. Yes."
"No," Oliver denied, because…well, it had never even crossed his mind that one had anything to do with the other. How could he make Felicity understand that? God, he really hadn't wanted to talk about William tonight. It was too raw. Stirred up too many negative emotions. But now he had no choice.
"Felicity…William was Samantha's son. She bore him. She chose to have him. She raised him and did it well. She didn't want him to be a part of this life. I…I felt that was her right, that I couldn't overrule that and force this life on him…on both of them."
Let that make sense. Please, God, let that make sense to her.
But Felicity looked away, her lip trembling, her eyes blinking rapidly. "But you sent him away like…"
"Hey." Oliver caught her chin and turned it back to him. "I didn't abandon William. And your dad didn't abandon you. We just both let their…your… moms chose what they thought was the best and safest path."
When her eyes met Oliver's, they were full of tears, but Felicity shrugged and forced a lighter tone. "At least, you left a video. I'd have really liked a video when I turned 18."
"But you have to understand it would be different if we had kids," Oliver pushed on, his voice intense, not letting Felicity deflect. He needed her to understand this. "And if you want complete honestly, I very much pray we do have children one day. And if we do, it would be totally different."
"How?" A single tear escaped down Felicity's cheek and Oliver was quick to reach out and catch it. "They'd still be in danger."
"But we could take precautions. They'd be under our roof, under our protection. All the time. We would be in control. Overwatch and the Green Arrow know how to handle danger. Samantha…she's a…civilian. What was I supposed to do, move her and William into the guest room at the Loft so we could keep them safe?"
"Um…no," Felicity's voice was just shy of horrified. And Oliver couldn't blame her. Having William with them would be one thing…having his ex-girlfriend, who had barely been a girlfriend at all, around all the time? Living with them? That would be awful for Felicity. For all of them.
And how would they even begin to keep safe an adult and a stranger who was completely independent of them? And how could Oliver allow his son to go home with her, alone, just the two of them, in a town where everyone knew that boy was the best way to get to him.
Thankfully, Oliver could see in Felicity's eyes that the wheels turning, see that she was starting to understand.
"Exactly." Oliver sighed. He was also starting to realize that all this time Felicity wasn't just angry at him for making decisions about William without her. She though he was making decisions for them without her. "This is what you meant when you said that I should have come and talked to you before I sent them away, wasn't it? That we needed…need to communicate and work together?"
The ridiculous part was that Oliver would have sworn that they had been great at communicating before. His frame of reference was just that warped. He felt so stupid. If he had just had a conversation with Felicity before sending William and Samantha away…would everything have gone differently?
"Yes," Felicity confessed in a small voice, "but, I think…I think this is also why I should have asked. I should have stayed and talked. Instead, I just gave up and walked away, without ever even asking for the full story."
"You had good reason—"
Felicity shook her head sadly. "This isn't all on you, Oliver. I made mistakes too."
Oliver really couldn't see how her mistakes came anywhere close to his. "The first thing I should have done when I saw Samantha and a boy that looked to be the right age in Jitters was call you, before I even confronted Sam. Later, on the porch of the Farmhouse, when you confronted me…I should have told you. It was just one bad decision after another. My only excuse is…it was so much and I was having trouble wrapping my mind around it, but I should have told you then. Things could have gone so differently…you have no idea how sorry I am."
Felicity ducked her head and brushed away the last of her tears, before whispering so softly Oliver could barely make them out, "I believe you."
"I, um…" Oliver cleared his throat. Was there anything more to say? He had no idea what else to say. "I should go finish the ravioli."
Untangling his hand from Felicity's, Oliver grabbed their salad plates and headed for the kitchen. He was feeling too…raw to look at her right then.
In the kitchen, Oliver deposited the plates in the sink and rubbed his hands over his face. Then, bracing his hands on the counter, he hung his head down and just breathed. Scotch hadn't prepared him for this. And he had a strong feeling that more wouldn't help.
Oliver had known that they would have to discuss everything that happened with William. Eventually. He just really hadn't thought it would be tonight. The reconciliation was just so new and…fragile? Was it fragile? God, he hoped not. All he could do now was—
"Hey."
Oliver jerked around to see Felicity standing in the kitchen door, leaning against the frame. She gave him a small smile and answered his unasked question, "I was lonely."
"Well, you never have…" Oliver's first instinct was to throw out a flirtatious line, something about never being lonely around him, but he couldn't seem to finish the sentence. "Are we okay?" he asked instead and he really hated with how desperate he sounded.
Felicity sighed, but her eyes were understanding. "Oliver, you know I don't have to like everything you have to say. I just want you to talk to me. I just want the truth."
Oliver licked his lips, his eyes searching her face. He still wasn't sure—
"But to answer your question…" Felicity held out her hands and Oliver hurried over to take them, grateful for the chance. "Yeah, I think we're okay. Actually, I think we're better than we've ever been in some ways. It's hard, but we're trying and we're doing it together and we're being open with each other in whole a new way…do you understand?" And for a moment, she looked just as lost and confused as he felt.
Letting out what sounded far too much like a sob, Oliver yanked Felicity into his arms and buried his head in her neck. "Yeah," was all he could say, "I think so."
They stayed that way for a long minute, maybe more. Then Felicity pulled away with bright eyes and an only slightly forced smile. "I believe you promised me lobster ravioli and…" With a teasing push at his chest, she went over to the counter and hoped up onto the edge. "I think I'd like the full Top Chef experience."
Oliver knew very well that she was purposefully, forcefully choosing to push the mood back over to the light side. But even so, just looking at her, he felt the tension drain from his shoulders. God, how he loved her. It felt wrong not to tell her, but Felicity set the rules and he was going to follow them. Date number 15. He was counting every stupid lunch date from here on out.
The fridge was in the other direction, but Oliver found himself stepping closer to her instead of toward the ravioli, pressing his lips to hers. Because that he was allowed to do. Felicity's hands came up to cup his cheeks and hold him to her and was it odd that only when kissing her did he feel like he could breathe again? He didn't deepen the kiss and he didn't pull away. He just drew her in like the first clean breath of air he'd had in months.
When he felt he had some semblance of control over his emotions, Oliver pulled back with a gentle kiss on her nose. "So…ravioli."
Felicity ran her fingers under his collar, loosening his tie. "Yup, ravioli."
With one last quick peck, Oliver forced himself to turn to the stove, turning the water up to a rolling boil before grabbing the ravioli from the fridge. He could feel Felicity's eyes follow him. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Not at all.
"Is this what you've been drinking?"
Oliver glanced behind him to see Felicity examining his 15-year-old scotch. "Mmhmm," he hummed, smiling as he pulled together the ingredients. There was something sexy about the harsh, masculine drink in her delicate hands.
The corner of Felicity's lips tipped up. "Was it full when you got here?"
Oliver blushed. There weren't a lot of people who could make him blush. Actually, there might only be one. "Yup." Felicity was well aware that he was a deceptively conservative drinker.
Felicity chuckled, so apparently, she found his decision to indulge more amusing than cause for concern. That was good. "Nervous?" she asked.
Huffing out a laugh of his own, Oliver breathed, "You have no idea."
Felicity's soft, delighted laughter rang out through the kitchen and, maybe, he should be put off by her pleasure in his discomfort, but they both knew that this was important. Nerves were high because it meant so much.
Felicity took a sip of the single malt scotch and fell into a coughing fit. It was too adorable not to laugh as she made a face, setting the offending bottle as far away from her as she could reach. "And I suppose this is the good stuff?"
Oliver shrugged. He scooped the ravioli into the boiling water. "Not the best. I can't afford the best anymore, but it's pretty good." As rarely as he drank, he could splurge a little and not drink the cheap shit. "Fifteen year. Single malt."
"It's kind of awful."
"Hence the Pinot for you." Oliver dropped another quick kiss on her ruby lips on his way to grab the cream and butter. As he did, he noticed Felicity's feet dangling from her perch on the countertop. They were in constant motion, her toes making circles in the air, those gorgeous silver shoes catching the light.
Oliver gestured to her feet with a spatula, repeating her question to him, "Nervous?"
"Hmmm?" Felicity glanced down at her feet and this time it was her turn to blush. "Oh." She hurriedly crossed her ankles. "No, it's just…ever since I got full mobility back, sometimes, I just like to move my feet, because, you know, I can."
That hit Oliver like a tidal wave and he almost stumbled. He was slammed with a burst of love so strong, he could barely stand from the weight of it. He couldn't speak because the only words he had were ones of love. The only way to keep them inside was to say nothing at all.
Oliver tossed his ingredients aside and came over to reverently run his hands over Felicity's legs, drawn to them like a magnet. Starting at the ankles wrapped in silver, his palms moved over her calves and knees to cup her thighs just below that flowy red dress.
"This okay?" he asked when he was able to find his voice. "Does it feel…?" Oliver's voice cracked. Just as he found the words, he lost them again.
"It feels great." Felicity's tone was just as filled with emotion, so thick it was impossible to pull apart the component feelings. "No more pain. Not anymore."
The idea that there had been pain and he hadn't been there…Oliver's breath hissed as his hands settled below her knee, his thumbs drawing circles on her flesh. "I wish…I wish I had been there…for you when…"
"Me too," Felicity agreed quickly, then seemed to shake herself. "Though, obviously I wouldn't let you be there, so…totally my call. So, I suppose it sounds hypocritical when—"
"Shhh," Oliver hushed, crouching down in front of her, pressing a reverent kiss to one knee and then the other.
"Oliver."
The passion in her voice drew Oliver's eyes upward and when his head tipped up, Felicity immediately grabbed his tie, pulling him up almost violently. And her eyes…her eyes were on fire.
He stumbled to his feet only to find himself yanked into a kiss much more intense than any that had come before. Well, at least not in a long, long time. Felicity was frantic. Her lips were already parted and Oliver followed her lead, angling his head and sliding his tongue in to tangle with hers. She moaned and sucked, her frantic hands working his tie free only to use it as a tether, pulling him closer.
Oliver kept his grip on her thighs, reveling in the give and take of the muscles under his palms as they parted of their own free will before trapping him between them, her calves twining around his back to yank him closer.
The last time they had been like this, the muscles under his hands had been limp, unmoving, and, even worse, unfeeling. Oliver had had to manipulate Felicity's lower body like a doll…
He kissed her harder.
Then the timer went off.
The fucking ravioli. It wasn't an explosion, but still…Goddamn it.
Oliver had to wrench his mouth away, because Felicity wasn't letting go. She had a death grip on his tie and the way she was sucking on his tongue…he was only able to pull back enough to whisper against her lips, "Ravioli's ready."
Her response was a whimper and a gentle nip to his bottom lip that became a suck and then a whine, "Oliver…"
It was pretty amazing. So much better than scotch. Why was he fighting her? Oh yeah, this was worth waiting for.
Oliver chuckled and tried again, "I don't want them to overcook. Just a few minutes, honey."
Felicity gave another low whine, but nodded, panting a little as she yanked on his tie. "Fine, but I'm taking this." She finished pulling off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple and making him hiss. "There." She patted his chest, showing she was pleased with her handiwork.
Oliver couldn't resist one last quick, nipping kiss. He pulled away quickly before he changed his mind, reminding himself how long those damn raviolis took to make. Too long to have the filling leaking out into the boiling water. He scooped the pasta out fast and started the sauce.
He was eager…so eager for dinner to be over.
"Cream sauce?" Felicity asked, in a voice so sultry that his already throbbing cock jumped.
"Rosé," Oliver managed, just barely. "Did you want cream?" He hadn't added the tomatoes yet, he could probably still do cream sauce if that was what she preferred, just a few adjustments—
"Rosé is perfect." Her eyes were heavy lidded and her smile…Christ, he was going to burn something. It was a good thing Oliver had experience cooking with a raging hard-on. Such was life with Felicity Smoak.
It only took a few minutes for Oliver to finish and plate the pasta, but it felt like…far, far longer.
"Can you hold the door?" Oliver grabbed the plates and cast her a glance. He wanted to lift Felicity off the counter, but he was pretty sure that if he touched her he was done for.
In the dining room, they ate with their chairs pressed up against each other's this time, their ankles twinned like a pair of high school sweethearts on a date to the local soda shop. The tension in the air was so thick Oliver could taste it. But it was a good kind of tension. The best.
"This is delicious," Felicity murmured, the first words either of them had spoken since they'd sat down.
"Thank you," Oliver murmured, but funny enough, he couldn't taste a thing. He shot her a look that he hoped was full of all the heat he felt. He wanted Felicity to know what she did to him. And the way she squirmed in the seat, rubbing her thighs together, told him she did.
Oliver finished appallingly quickly, his hands almost shaking with the need to touch her bare skin. When he turned to her, Felicity was smiling, her eyes following his movements as she ate. He set down his fork and tossed his napkin aside.
Then, lifting one of her legs into his lap, Oliver carefully ran his fingers over the straps of her shoes before finding the buckle. He was so very done with food.
"I haven't finished my dinner," Felicity whispered, low and husky. Oliver couldn't see that she seemed care much more than he did, though.
"So finish." Lifting off one beautiful shoe, he carefully set it aside and ran his fingers over Felicity's foot, massaging the instep, running the pad of his thumb over her brightly colored, wiggling toes.
Felicity's eyes flashed in the candle light. "Are you developing a foot fetish, Mr. Queen?"
Looking at her from under his lashes, Oliver smiled. "I may very well be developing a Felicity's Legs Fetish, Ms. Smoak. That okay with you?"
Bringing the fork to her mouth, Felicity's tongue peaked out to delicately slip the pasta off the fork in a way that had to be designed to drive Oliver mad. Even the way she chewed was sexy as hell.
"I think I can live with it." Then Felicity lifted her other foot and placed it in his lap as well, wiggling it until Oliver took the hint and started to undo those straps as well.
Running his fingers over her ankles, Oliver couldn't help but remember the last time they were together like this. His instinct was to keep that bleak thought to himself, to push it back rather than risk ruining the mood, but that wasn't what Felicity had asked for from him. And it wasn't in the spirit of rebuilding. And she'd also said not everything he said had to be something she wanted to hear, that all it needed to be was honest.
Taking a deep breath, Oliver whispered, his eyes glued to his hands as they ran over her lower legs, "The last time we were like this…" His voice gave out halfway. What good was being open if the words wouldn't come?
"The lower half of my body was a limp noodle?" Felicity supplied, always so helpful.
Oliver supposed they must be like an old married couple already, the way they could finish each other's sentences. Though, Felicity certainly used more…colorful phraseology than he would have. But it was comforting to know that when words failed him, he had her.
Chuckling despite himself, Oliver nodded, "I wouldn't put it that way, but…I think about it sometimes. Hell, I think about it all the time. I had such plans…" He ran his hands up her legs from ankle to thigh, making her shiver. "For when sensation came back. I wanted to map out every inch of your skin. Make you feel incredible."
Lifting her right leg, Oliver leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of her knee. But then he realized how this might be sounding and hastily looked up to meet Felicity's eyes. "Not that I didn't love making love with you regardless…I mean, it was still wonderful…"
"I know," Felicity murmured, her eyes sad, but full of the love that he craved, that he needed. "But it wasn't the same."
This was what Oliver hated most about this stupid open and honest thing. He didn't want to ever see sadness like this in Felicity's eyes. He never wanted to remind her of the bad times. He only wanted…but, maybe, it was unfair of him to ask her to be happy all the time. He hadn't meant too, but…had he unintentionally given the impression that that was what he needed from her? To always be cheerful? To be his light?
"Regardless, Felicity…you need to know that I would rather be with you without your legs, than with anyone else ever. It's just…" Oliver shook his head, gritting his teeth with frustration. "This isn't coming out right. I can't find the right words."
Felicity leaned forward and cupped his cheek. "You're doing fine. It's honest, so it's coming out perfectly. And I…I felt the almost identical way... Well, not the identical identical. I mean, I loved being with you, loved the connection. But I very much missed our sex lives from before. It certainly wasn't same."
The emotions that coursed through him then were almost too much and Oliver found he couldn't continue to hold Felicity's gaze. He raised her foot to his lips and ran his mouth down over her arch, over her ankle and up her calf, teasing her with his stubble, making her shiver.
"Definitely, not the same," Felicity breathed. She adjusted her other foot in his lap, finding and running it over the hard ridge of his cock.
Oliver's breath hissed and he warned, "You're playing with fire."
Felicity's lazy grin was worth…everything. "I like fire."
The next section is redacted because it is, well, rated "E" for explicit or "MA17." If you would like to read that feel free to head over to Archive of my Own.
archiveofourown org/works/7931977/chapters/18128938
add the period before org and the link will work. :-)
And Oliver…he just wanted to stay there forever. Which was why he wasn't even sure why he said, "So, I'll ask again, your place or mine?"
Felicity lifted her head to look him in the eyes, a small smile on her face as she traced the outlines of his beard. "Oh honey…Mr. Mayor. It's a Monday night. You can't be seen doing the walk of shame tomorrow morning. How would it look?"
He didn't give a damn…but…Oliver's face fell. He hadn't even thought of that. Why hadn't he thought of that? His forehead fell to her shoulder and he groaned. Because worse than him being caught doing the walk of shame, was the paparazzi catching Felicity leaving his place at dawn on a Tuesday. Fuck fuck fuck.
Chuckling, Felicity ran her nails along his scalp. "It's alright, hon. The night's not over."
That got Oliver's attention, but then Felicity started to lift off of him and he reflexively fought her, muttering, "No."
But Felicity pulled out of his arms anyway, her smile sympathetic. "Why don't you go get whatever spectacular dessert you have planned? I'm not planning on going home anytime soon."
Oliver sighed, but stood, murmuring, "I can do that," against her lips as he buttoned up his pants.
He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or still blissed out from the last half hour, but he must have been feeling pretty good, because he was whistling to himself as he got the ice cream. Maybe he was too happy to be disappointed in anything.
Ten minutes later, Oliver almost dropped the Baked Alaska when he emerged from the kitchen to find Felicity draped across Antione's pristine white table cloth, wearing nothing but the remnants of her red, red lipstick.
When, years from then, Oliver thought back on that night, that magical third date, he remembered red statin and the taste of scotch and more emotions than he could hope to categorize, but disappointment…that was that last thing he thought of.
Author's Note:
I know that there will be some people who don't think that Oliver did enough to win Felicity back or to prove that he has changed. But I'm going to maintain that in a healthy relationship, no one is asked to "prove" anything. And if two people agree to start over, it is just that, a clean start, no grudges held.
"Doing things right this time," is about building from the ground up, slowly and with care, while all the while living very real, imperfect lives, being a normal couple doing normal couple things. No grand gestures or five month vacations from reality.
Thank you to Rayna for the lovely cover art. Thank you to ireland1733 for the awesome chapter art, Italian and all, and for all her support. And finally to Fairytalehearts for all her hard work.
I'm over at Tumblr (Emmilynestill) if you want to say 'hi,' though most of what I post there is shameless self-promotion for my writing. Oh and speaking of shameless, if you liked this head over to my author page and try out one of my other stories. :-D
Thanks for reading!
Emmy