Your Love Is A Waiting Game

What If It Only Get's Colder?

She wakes up cocooned in warmth, big arms wrapped around her waist, a warm chest pressed against her back and she can't help but think this is the way she wants to wake up for the rest of her life. She smiles and humms in happiness.

Then it hits her like a ton of bricks and she realizes whose arms are wrapped around her. Oliver. Her memory's are hazy, like she's looking at them through a gauzy piece of material but they're there. She was sure a lobotomy couldn't remove them. She remembers alcohol, frantic kisses pressed to every part of her body and clothes flying in every direction. Her eyes snap open and sure enough there's a pile of clothes, hers mixed in with his. She carefully turns in his embrace. She examines his face, he looks ten years younger in his sleep, his shoulders free of the heavy load he carried. A small smile graces his lips and she thinks he's having a good dream for once. She allows herself to fantasize, that this was their life, they were married and it was the most normal thing in the world to wake up in his arms every day. They would kiss each other Good Morning, there was no hood, no madmen terrorizing the city, the SCPD caught all the criminals and Oliver was just...Oliver, her Oliver. But he wasn't hers all of that was just a highly illogical dream. One she'd keep to herself.

She lingers in the early morning glow and allows her fingers to trace his Bratva tattoo, He doesn't even stir, she likes to think she's to blame for that but it's probably the large amount of liquor he's trying to sleep off.

Oh my gosh! The liquor! She was just a drunken mistake, a girl in a bar to him. Except she wasn't a random girl, she was his partner in crime, his....well she was his Felicity. She imagined him waking up, face twisting with regret over the mistake he had made. He would apologize and say that it wasn't meant to happen. Then things would get awkward and he would push her away. Her heart shattered in her chest. Just the thought of losing him alone was enough to make her leave the warm cocoon of Oliver's arms, the place she could wrap herself in and stay forever.

The early morning light filtered in just enough that she was able to distinguish her clothes from Oliver's. She tiptoes around the room picking up and putting on pieces as she went. She's hears something and thinking shes been discovered freezes. Turing back to the bed she sees that Oliver's mumbling something in his sleep. She quickly throws her dress on and after she goes on a scavenger hunt for her shoes she's able to slip out the door without a sound. Oliver never woke which is surprising especially because he has the senses of a Ninja.

She didn't think her face could be any redder as she made her walk of shame down the long corridor of the mansion. She dreads running into anyone and hopes that Thea is still at the club or with Roy.

Luck was on her side for the first time in twenty four hours and she didn't even run into the housekeeper Raisa. She slipped out the front door as sighed in relief when it shut just as quietly as Oliver's. What was she expecting from a mansion? Slamming door and chimes?

As she looked out at he entrance to the house a thought hit her. How was she going to get home? How had they even gotten here. Her head was pounding as she racked her brain. A cab, they had taken a cab from the club. She started to panic. She had left her purse at the club but since she was never two feet from her phone it was in her dress pocket. No way was she calling a cab to pick her up from the Queen Mansion, no way, no how. She thought about calling Digg but that would elicit more questions than it was worth. She didn't have answers for the questions she knew he would ask. So she started walking, planning on calling a cab when she got farther down the road. If someone had told her yesterday what she be doing right in this moment she would have flat out laughed at them. She was Felicity Smoak. She did not make walks of shame, especially twenty miles to Starling City ones.

Half a mile down the road a car honked at her and a man whistled at her and made catcalls. She could only imagine what she looked like for that response, probably a hooker since she was carrying her heels and wearing a rumpled dress as she walked along the shoulder of the highway. She averted her eyes from him and thankfully another car came forcing the man to move along. Her hands shook from the encounter. What if he had tried to pull her into his car and....and. She shuttered. The possibility of his circling back was enough for her to call Digg. She hopes that he doesn't doesn't kick Oliver's butt when he finds out where she's at. They had gotten a lot closer while Oliver was gone but not even he was going to fix this dilemma. Diggle answered groggily on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Digg? It's Felicity. I need you to come pick me up.” She thought he would ask why she was out this early but in true Digg form he only asked where.

“Be there in thirty,” he said and then hung up. She knows he must be tired. He probably got about as much sleep as she did last night but here he was coming to the rescue. It was a great feeling to have friends as close as family. She wasn't used to that. Just like he said John car pulls up alongside her, he rolls the window down and gives her a once over.

“Not a word Digg.”

“What happened to you?” She climbed in the car and shut the door.

“Nothing. I don't want to talk about it.” John being all knowing could guess what had happened.

“Do he know you left?” She sucks in a a breath and shakes her head.

“Felicity-”

“Please John.” He sighs. “Okay, but you know I'm here when you need to talk.” She couldn't help but notice that he didn't say if. He knew it would all come busting out sometime. The more you held things in the bigger the explosion when they came out. She hopes this isn't one of those occasions.

She avoided his eyes and nodded while she pulled down the visor to look at herself. She gasped when she did. Her eyes were bright and wide behind her glasses, last nights makeup was smudged under her lashes and across her face, her hair was wild and she knows it's going to take a lot of conditioner to untangle it. A reddish pink line she can identify as Adrenaline lipstick runs down her neck in smudges that resembled the shape of lips. She flushes at the memory of how it got there. She closes the visor with a snap and Digg sends her a look from the drivers seat. The rest of the ride was made in silence and soon Digg pulled the car to the curb in front of her house. He turned in his seat to look at her.

“I love you Digg, but please for the love of Google spare me the Yoda speech. I know I messed up.”

“Felicity, you're an adult, you make your own decisions.”

“Wish Oliver felt that way,” she mumbled. 

“I'm not going to give you a speech, you don't need that from me. Just know I'm here for you. We're family, you can tell me anything. You know I'd do anything for you.”

Midway through his speech she starts to cry, he reaches across the car and pulls her into a hug where she proceeds to sob against his chest. He rubs her back soothingly and when she feels marginally better she pulls back sniffling and wipes her face leaving makeup on her fingers. She hiccuped.

“Thank you John, just...thank you.” He nods and squeezes her hand. “Sorry about your shirt.”

He laughs and shakes his head.“I've got three of these things, besides it'll wash.”

She wiped her hand under her streaming nose. “Ughh, I need a shower.”

“Go on, I'll go get us some breakfast and after we eat I'll take you to work.” She groaned. She had forgotten about work. She climbs out of the car and before she closes the door she turns back. “Digg?”

“Yeah?”

“If you talk to Oliver, can you not...say anything. Act like you don't know?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Maybe...maybe when I'm feeling better I'll tell you what happened.” She closes the car door and watches as he drives away.

She proceeds up the walkway towards her house and gets the spare key out from under the potted plant. Oliver would have a fit if he knew. She sheds her clothes and took a shower, the water is scalding hot and she thinks that maybe if the water is hot enough it will erase the feeling of Oliver's skin against hers, his rigid scars against her fingertips and the feel of his lips against her clavicle.

But no, there isn't water hot enough to erase those memory's and she isn't sure she wants too.

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