Okay so this one's a little bit more suggestive. Nothing happens - not even a kiss, neither one of them is the kind of person to cheat (anymore). But, if it bothers you, you don't need to read.
"Urgh," Felicity complains, still enjoying the feeling of being completely swallowed by Oliver's taller frame encompassing hers and shielding her. Twenty years of raising Mia, of always being on edge, always worried about an attack, about failing to protect their child – having this, this feeling of absolute safety and protection, of knowing that Oliver would never willingly let anything or anyone get through him to touch her? It was heaven. Peace.
"What's wrong?" His voice is just a breath, a hint of a whisper ghosting over her hair and she feels the hair on her neck stand up – so can he, given she can feel his lips curve up where his head's leaning against her.
The option of staying, unfortunately, went out of the window an hour ago.
"Need the bathroom," Felicity huffs out, exasperated with her dysfunctional body which clearly doesn't appreciate a good situation when it sees it – or feels it, as the case may be.
"Alright. Do you need a hand?"
When Felicity freezes, after nearly head-butting him in the chin with how fast her head snapped up to stare at him wide-eyed, Oliver's lips twitch and he huffs out a laugh.
"To get to the bathroom, Felicity," he clarifies and she lets out a breath which only has him chuckling again – at her expense, not that she minds.
"I'll be fine," she assures him – but then she actually moves.
"Yeouch," with a groan, Felicity collapses straight back into Oliver's arms. It's been a long time since she was ashamed in front of Oliver. He's never been anything but helpful and supportive.
"Alright," she concedes before Oliver can voice what his furrowed brow and concerned gaze is already telling her.
"Carry me to the bathroom, please."
Oliver visibly brightens at her giving him official permission to be his normal hovering, overprotective self and not have to watch her be in pain.
"You wish is my command," he retorts playfully but he's nothing but careful when he cradles her to his chest, avoiding her bruise by sheer memory, and shuffling forward until he can put his feet on the floor and stand with her in his arms – the harder task by far. It would've been so much easier for him to just pick her up while he's already standing, yet decided not to.
But the demonstration of sheer strength and control is also something which never fails to make her stomach swoop with arousal; something her husband had taken advantage of more than once – not that this younger him would know that.
"Oliver," she breathes out, remembering how often these moments had ended – or started – with them against walls or other surfaces, with them tearing each other's clothes off, with them sinking into each other. This man doesn't know any of that, but when he looks down at her – clearly worried he'd hurt her somehow – he does know how to read the pupil dilation, the heat in her eyes, the breathiness of her voice changing connotation easily.
She can feel him hesitate for a split second, as if trying to decide if he should say something – but instead, like so many of her babbles – he moves on as if she hadn't said anything, as if he hadn't seen what he did.
Except for the self-satisfied smirk at the corner of his lips as he carries her to the bathroom door which at least lets her know he didn't mind the momentary very healthy appreciation for his strength. Oliver's slow to let her go, guiding her to her feet and supporting her until Felicity's sure she found her feet.
"Can I take a shower while I'm in there?" Felicity asks, head tilted, making sure her voice is firm and steady.
"Of course. Help yourself to anything."
"Thanks," she offers with a bright smile, intentionally refraining from planting yet another kiss on his cheek – or worse (better?) his lips.
"No worries. Unlike someone I could mention, I do share my toys," he offers with a wink in her direction which has her giggling at his reference to their banter earlier that morning.
"Oliver, are you telling me what's yours is mine?" Her eyes are bright with laughter and but the smile she gives him is soft – because he had made that insinuation, even if he backtracked now, even if he changed his mind, that would always be the underlying meaning she couldn't unhear. Because some part of Oliver, however subconscious, knew what he was saying.
"Shush you," he shakes his head, looking amused as he opens the door for her and to her amazement, he wasn't even trying to take it back or dispute her interpretation. "You need anything, let me know, okay?"
"Of course," she reassures him seriously, patting his chest for a moment. Wow, sometimes it was so easy to forget just how hard Oliver was. On bad days, he looked like he stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine. And then there were the good days where he looked like a Greek God. His abs and chest were just packed with muscle; damn it, if she wasn't so sore, she'd climb that man like a tree.
Reluctantly, Felicity pulled back her hand before it became too obvious it was not meant to be soothing for him and was more for her to get in a gratuitous grope. Except just as she's about to leave the room, she sees him, half-bent over, leaning against the wall, shoulders shaking.
"Oliver?" She asks, head tilted.
He turns to her and his eyes are bright, corners wrinkled, dimple on his cheek on full display as he bursts into loud, irrepressible laughter.
God, she doesn't know how, but Oliver somehow looks even hotter when he's genuinely happy. That man's like cat nip. Felicity-nip?
He laughs even harder.
Toilet or find out what amused her husband…?
"That was your most overt one yet," he tells her, voice light and threaded with laughter, putting a quick end to her dilemma.
Her confused look must be enough to prompt him to explain.
"So, is that what you normally dream about?"
Felicity must look very quizzical by this point, because he snorts and laughs again.
"You were talking out loud," he prompts.
"I know – I was trying to make you smile. And it worked."
"No," her not-husband rebuts instantly, casually leaning against the wall in a pose reminiscent of GQ models and looking unfairly unattractive doing so.
"Well, yes, that did work – it always works, somehow, when it's you. But no, I didn't mean earlier. I was referring to just now."
It takes only a second for the penny to drop; she expects a satisfied smirk from him at her unintentional ego rub, but instead there's a flush to his cheeks and ears and he seems mostly endeared and amused.
"What was it you said?" He asks, a boyish smirk slowly making its way across his lips. "Oh, yes, I remember now. You think I look like a Greek God. And you'd like to climb me like a tree. Also, apparently I'm Felicity-nip."
Her husband wouldn't have quite so easy a time embarrassing her mostly because she knows he would never hesitate to let her do exactly that and he's just as attracted to her. But with this Oliver she's swimming in the deep end whereas he only just has his feet in shallow waters.
A hot blushes races across her face right down her chest. Well, this is awkward.
"So?" he asks and she is too flustered to do anything but stammer and echo his word.
"So?" she repeats back to him, confused. He pushes off the wall with enviable ease, leaning forward so his breath ghosts over her neck, his lips touching her ear as he whispers, voice low and a slight growl threaded through, enough to make her shiver just at the sound.
"Is that what you dream about?"
Felicity can feel her heart race, her eyes pop and her lips part to let out an almost silent gasp. Oliver pulls back enough to take in her face, his right hand cradling her chin and part of her neck, tilting her head so they make eye contact. She knew he positioned his hand there intentionally when his teasing grin broadened as he felt her no doubt rapid pulse at her neck.
"Never mind," he tells her, winking and oh, he definitely noticed how her heart sped up even more when he does that, "I think I have my answer."
His voice is still lower, quieter – directed at only her but also just close enough to his Arrow-voice to make every part of her pay attention. Her husband had quickly learned just how to use all the ways she found him attractive to his advantage; unfortunately for her, her currently very platonic friend Oliver was rapidly learning the same without any of the fringe benefits.
He lets her go, stepping back and out of her space enough she finally lets her shoulders drop, her breath coming out in a hurried pant, not having realised just how tightly she'd held it before until she's at least a little more distanced from Oliver's intoxicating proximity.
"You used to not engage when I made these awkward passes at you," she finally manages to say.
Oliver shrugs.
"Do you want me to go back to that?" He asks seriously – and she knows he would, without hesitation, if she told him she wanted to do just that.
And that's unfair, because no, of course she doesn't. Even if it's at her expense, she likes this light-hearted Oliver who teases her and banters with her, who makes jokes and laughs so hard he has to lean against the wall to support himself. Felicity pouts and Oliver's smile returns immediately at the implied surrender.
"Alright then. Far be it from me to keep you from the bathroom," the man says, letting her off the hook as she ducks past him.
Notes:
I know, just a short one, but I hope you enjoyed.
Felicity talking her thoughts out loud always makes me laugh. I've read so many Olicity fanfiction comparing Oliver to GQ model or Greek God, so I figured I'd combine the two.
My personal favourite scene is Oliver pushing off the wall and being intentionally seductive rather than just incidental by him being,... well, him. And when Felicity designates him as Felicity-nip.
What do you think? What are your favourite scenes / moments? next chapter will be more of this, including the bathroom and some undressing ;)
Please comment and review - the more reviews I get, the faster I'll upload it:)
