Felicity left the 6th Street office location, unwilling to stay another minute even if it meant leaving without signing the lease. The apartment on loan from Palmer Tech was downtown so she walked the few blocks in a blur, alternatively fuming and close to tears. Oliver wasn't back yet and she needed every minute before he returned to the apartment to get her emotions back under control.
Nothing really had changed in her relationship with Oliver, but Moira's assumptions pulled the rug out from under hers. Or maybe just forced her to admit how precarious her relationship was with Oliver. She thought by making it clear there were no expectations, she was being smart, safe. But she left Moira's apology session feeling foolish and naïve.
She was neither of those things. Moira was wrong. But she was also in her head.
Moira was still in her head a few hours later at the official ceremony to celebrate the completion of phase one of the Queen Memorial Initiative—the shortened name was quietly adopted shortly after the video of Robert grappling with the Glades councilman was posted.
Felicity applauded along with the crowd in front of the Freitas Four. The worn but cozy trailer where she and Oliver spent weeks overseeing the project was gone and in its place was a medium sized stage zealously decorated with red, white and blue bunting. The Mayor snipped a pair of oversized gold scissors through a red ribbon and then turned to shake hands with Moira, Oliver, and Thea. Other top donors quickly swarmed to do the same.
Oliver smiled, shook hands and took photos with them all before he stepped offstage. Again he was surrounded, this time by residents of the Glades, vendors, and others on the crew. He even took the time to charm the reporters and film crews that apparently were an inevitable presence when you were Starling City royalty. And why shouldn't they reach out to touch him? He was their fallen prince returned to his throne.
Did they even know he wasn't that same thoughtlessly selfish boy they'd once tracked in the tabloids? She wasn't sure they cared or even remembered they'd been a part of what chased him out of town. If his own mother hadn't learned to separate who her son had once been, why should she expect anyone else to?
Moira was wrong about Oliver. Felicity was unsure Moira ever really knew her son. Under no circumstance, past or present, could she imagine him wanting an "arrangement" for a marriage, but now, he'd doubly abhor it. He'd never stomach the lies and games required to make it happen. Oliver valued—craved even—loyalty, trust and the one thing he had the hardest time expecting back, love.
And yet, Oliver wanting love and a real partnership someday didn't mean he wanted them with her. Like her, he'd made no promises and asked for none in return. They had something special between them, but in the last few months, Oliver's life had been turned upside down. What if what he most wanted now was to be on his own? Back in control of his space, his future?
They'd sort of skipped the dating part before moving in together. It shouldn't have worked, but they got along well. Whatever adjustments they'd had to make for each other had been relatively minor. But what if the adjustment had been simple because he didn't plan on having to put up with her less awesome habits for very long?
No.
Long term or short term, Felicity didn't believe he'd pretend like that. He wouldn't lie to her. It's not like they hadn't had disagreements, but they'd worked through them. The sex was amazing, but she actually liked being with Oliver the rest of the time as well. He cared. She knew he did. She wasn't imagining it. But did he feel the way about her that she did him?
Moira got one thing right; it was too late to get out with her heart unscathed. But if she ended things now, she could leave with her pride. What if that was his plan? Oliver had let her take the lead in so many aspects of their relationship, could he expect her to initiate the breakup as well?
She closed her eyes against the sharp pain the question brought. She was weary from all the "what ifs" that had her second guessing everything. She wished they could just keep going as they had, but that was unrealistic. Some changes needed to come now. She'd never planned to stay as long as they had at the Palmer Tech apartment. Once Smoak Technologies was officially up, she wouldn't have time for apartment hunting. At least the sale of her townhouse went through. It was past time to find a new place to live.
But what did that search look like? Assuming Oliver was even planning to stay in Starling, would they look for a place separately or together? If they got their own places, did that automatically mean a breakup? Would she even consider moving backwards? The thought of losing him by increments made her sick to her stomach.
She searched the crowd looking for Oliver. The camera crew and most of the crowd had moved on to tour the four unit building, but she found Oliver waylaid by his mother over by the stage.
They were too far away to hear anything and she could only see them from the side, but Moira was obviously intent on saying her peace, whatever it was. Oliver's stiff shoulders and burrowed brow said her message wasn't welcome, but that didn't exactly narrow down the topic under discussion. However, when Moira paused and glanced her way, Felicity knew she was the subject.
She went stock still. Oh God, what if Moira was stubbornly pitching an "arrangement?" Was that better or worse than preaching to Oliver to end things? Or asking him to give Felicity time to take that step herself? She cringed and turned away.
A minute later, Oliver was beside her. His expression was unreadable, but he radiated frustration. "I shook the last hand I have patience to shake. If we go now, I can be gone before they come back and start lining up all over."
She frowned, surprised at his appearance. Misreading her expression, he backtracked.
"Unless you want to stay. Up to you." He offered but there was no doubt that he wanted to be gone. She was in no mood to mingle either.
"No." She shook her head. "We can go."
The drive back to the apartment was quick and quiet. She couldn't tell if he was brooding on his own thing or just picking up on her mood. He parked in the underground ramp and was halfway around the truck to help her out, something that had become an automatic habit when she wore narrow skirts. In a surge of independence, she quickly opened her door and risked sliding out. Oliver stopped. For just a moment, she could have sworn he looked dismayed and then his expression went blank. Immediately, she regretted her impulse. If he was ready to break things off, why was she rushing past her last moments with him? She should be savoring each final touch, not practicing life without him.
She couldn't get the moment back so she awkwardly joined Oliver and then they headed to the elevator. Before they entered, both of their phones alerted. They exchanged worried frowns. Oliver had his out of his pocket first. He relaxed.
"It's just a message from building maintenance."
"Mine too." What did it say about their time together that they'd both assumed impending disaster? "Elevator will be down for essential maintenance between 10 AM and 12 PM tomorrow," she finished reading off the screen. Oliver eyed the waiting elevator.
"Essential maintenance. Doesn't inspire a ton of confidence right now."
"Fifteen flights of stairs give me all the inspiration I need." Still, Felicity cautiously looked inside, hesitating for a moment and then pointing to the corner camera. "The red light is out." She pulled up the program on her phone that tapped into the building's security feeds and confirmed her guess. She nodded. "The camera in the elevator is out. So no risk of plunging to our doom."
They entered and Oliver pressed their floor number. The tension between them seemed to have been broken. It was a relief to be talking again, even if it was just over mundane things. Oliver turned his head toward her. "I should have asked earlier. Did you want me to run and get something to eat? Or I could throw together an omelet."
Her heart ached. He was always so sweet about making sure she ate, something she often neglected. That he was kind of a fantastic cook made up for his healthy eating habits. He let her help prep sometimes but quickly took over the bulk of the kitchen duties. Called it self defense. The fire alarm had only gone off the one time but since it had triggered a building wide evacuation, she was willing to let him have his way.
She shook her head. The knots in her stomach made thinking of food impossible. "No, I don't think I'm hungry."
He accepted her answer with a nod, falling silent again. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, eyeing the rising floor count impatiently. What was he in a hurry for? Had his chat with Moira convinced him to just rip the bandage off and get it over with? What if this was their last night? They needed to talk, but when they talked, she risked it being over. Imagining it gutted her.
Breathing deeply, she pushed her anxiety down. The lift wasn't large and she suddenly was hyper aware of how close Oliver stood. She inhaled his comforting scent. He'd used the body wash she'd purchased for him. It reminded her of the woods where they first met. The combination of cedar and pine mixed wonderfully with something musky and just Oliver. She felt her body swaying toward his like a magnet pulled to steel.
She'd desired that body the first moment Oliver came into view, leaning shirtless against the rough, wood hewn walls of the cabin. Now that she knew every line and cord; every muscle, callus, and scar beneath his hot, taut skin; her yearning for him had only increased. But it had never simply been lust. Even when at his most frustrating, he drew her. Desire she could have resisted, but something about Oliver Queen had tugged at her heart from the start, stealing beneath her defenses. And now she had no defenses.
As if he felt the pull of her stare, Oliver lifted his endlessly blue eyes to hers. Something in her face must have spoken her desires and instantly, he responded. Captivated, she watched his eyes darken, his pupils widening into dark pools like the space between stars. Her body responded, tightening, becoming more aware of the weight of the fabric against her skin. Her heart sped up.
Suddenly restless, she shifted. The lace cup of her bra scraped against her nipples and she sucked in a quick breath before wetting her lips.
Oliver swallowed, the muscles of his throat working lightly beneath dark stubble that she knew was surprisingly soft to the touch. He now used a conditioning balm just to avoid chafing her skin. So much of what he did every day reflected his careful consideration of her needs. Even if she'd been too afraid to say it, was it any wonder she fell deeper in love with him every day?
Unable to resist, she raised her hand to his face, skimming down the side of his cheek before lightly tracing her fingertips along the edge of his stubbled jaw. Her thumb played delicately over the corner of his mouth.
Oliver captured her hand with his, stilling it against his face. She looked into his eyes and felt the breath knocked out of her. Oliver's need was fierce and raw and immediate. Her palm tingled. Her whole body tingled. Heat gathered low in her stomach; a deep, steady pulse between her legs. She shivered.
There was so much focus and intensity in his eyes it should have scared her, but she wanted him with as much passion. As if a starting gun went off, they lunged at each other.
Her arms hooked about his neck and his wound tightly around her back. Leaning down to meet her lips, Oliver dipped her slightly backward, leaving her dizzy as she poured out all her need and worry into their ravenous kiss. It wasn't enough. It didn't matter where they were; she needed to feel all of him.
Now.
Sharing her urgency, Oliver—while never taking his lips from hers—reached out his arm and blindly slapped at the shiny panel on the wall. On his second try, he connected with the correct button and the elevator abruptly stopped. A buzzer went off which she easily ignored; she barely noted the noise over the mad pounding of her heart and the thrumming of the hot blood throbbing through her veins.
Their kiss was life and left her gasping for breath. Oliver banded both of his arms around her again, this time lifting her off her feet, leaving her right high heel behind. He flipped them around so she was now fully upright and her back against the wall with Oliver plastered to her front. It was heaven and hell. Oliver's taste and scent and heat consumed her; his touch teased everything within his reach leaving behind trails of pleasure. But the narrow cut of her skirt kept the pleasure trails restricted.
She whimpered against his mouth, and somehow understanding, Oliver's magic hands briefly stopped their exploration, tugging up her skirt until it was bunched around her waist. Then his hands were back, hot against her skin; his palms cupping her ass; his nimble fingers slipping teasingly underneath the lines of her panties to knead her naked flesh.
Already balancing on the remaining shoe, Felicity lifted her right leg high on Oliver's thigh, opening herself up to him more. Trapped in his trousers, Oliver ground his hard, hot shaft against her center and she whimpered again for a much different reason, melting in bliss as contact centered perfectly against her throbbing clit.
She tipped her head back, breathing hard. "Oliver," she panted out his name, sinking her fingers into the softly curling hair at the back of his head. He buried his face against the curve of her neck, the heat of his breath washing over her skin, leaving it hot and humid.
"Oliver," she said his name again. "Hurry," she urged, unsuccessfully tugging at his belt. He took over, keeping her pinned to the wall with his upper body while his hands moved between them. He undid his belt, the top button, and zipper and then in one move shoved his pants and boxers down just low enough to free himself.
She felt him against her stomach, burning like a thick brand. She pressed forward, eliciting a low grunt from Oliver. Then one strong hand was beneath her thigh, adjusting her higher so the foot left on the ground barely touched. His other hand was still between their bodies. He slipped his fingers beneath the silky edges of her drenched panties, tracing the seam of her body, back and forth, and then deeper, just long enough to confirm she was more than ready. She felt the elastic of her underwear stretched to the side and then the blunt, hot, heat of his cock pressed to her entrance. She bit her lip to keep from once again begging him to hurry.
For a moment, he felt bigger than normal; she bit her lip at the slight resistance before her body stretched to accept his heavy length. Trusting him to keep her from falling, she raised her other leg off the ground and squeezed her thighs around his hips, pressing her face to his shoulder as he slowly, inexorably filled her. She practically came on the spot, her breathy gasps sprinkled over his heavy groan. They clung to each other, living in the moment, breathing in the connection just a few seconds before their bodies demanded they move.
He slowly withdrew and then surged powerfully back into her. She clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt, face pressed to his chest, her eyes practically rolled back in her head; it felt so good. He followed up that first hard thrust with another and then set off on a relentless pace designed to push them over the edge fast.
Every time he hammered home, euphoric sparks erupted. Tension and pleasure spiked higher and higher until it was almost unbearable. It snapped. She arched against Oliver as wave after wave of ecstatic bliss crested and flowed.
Oliver swallowed her cry in a kiss, never faltering from his pace. The shocks of delight wouldn't stop, she milked him as he pounded into her, his thrusts growing uncontrolled. Again, the waves crested over her head and everything in her tightened and tensed. Oliver roared as he came, his hips jerkily stuttering as he emptied himself into her.
They sagged into each other, letting pulses slow, catching their breath. After a moment, the constant buzzing that a little while ago they'd so easily ignored intruded. If that persistent annoyance wasn't enough, the emergency phone within the elevator panel suddenly rang.
"We are not answering that," Felicity firmly instructed. Oliver gave her a quick kiss and eased back, setting her on her feet.
"Then we better make our exit fast."
Quickly they set about righting their clothing. Oliver waited to hit the release button until she was unsteadily leaning against the wall and slipping her last heel back on. They began to move. She was still smoothing her impossibly wrinkled skirt as the elevator reached their floor.
They were lucky and no one was waiting on their landing, but when the rush of fresh air from the hallway met them, it made her too aware of the musky scent of their lovemaking permeating the lift. She reached into her bag and pulled out the only thing that might help and spritzed the space twice before she exited.
"Minty." A smile played on Oliver's lips and laughter danced in his eyes.
"It was that or pepper spray."
"Good choice."
Oliver steered them toward their unit. They stepped inside the apartment just as the door to the stairwell started to open. He quickly shut the apartment door but a minute later there was a knock at the door. Her eyes darted to Oliver. He frowned but moved to answer the door even after she frantically gestured for him not to. He swung open the door and there was their building manager. She died a little on the spot, but Oliver played it cool.
"Good evening Sanderson."
"Good evening to you too, Mr. Queen, Ms. Smoak."
"What can we do for you?"
"I was coming up the stairwell, there was a problem with the elevator—"
"Right, essential repair tomorrow."
"Yes, well this seems unrelated. I noticed you just getting home and wondered—"
"If we'd seen the group of teens coming off the elevator? I think I've seen them around before, but I don't think they live in the building."
"Teens?"
"Teens."
"Did you get a good look at them?"
"Can't say that I did. I was in the hall dropping garbage in the chute, heard them coming off the elevator, laughing. Just caught the backs of their heads as they rushed by toward the other stairwell. Maybe you can still catch them."
The Super glanced down the hall.
"Thanks. If you see them again, give me a call."
"I can do that. You have a good night," he said and shut the door. Felicity let out her breath.
"Do you think he believes you?"
Oliver drew her into his arms.
"He's not going to say differently and that's what matters."
She looped her hands around his neck.
"How can you be so sure? If he checks the cameras down on the garage level, he's going to figure it out."
"I'm guessing you can make sure that never happens."
She laughed and then pulled away to grab her phone and flipped through the screens. "Oh, it's our lucky day. The camera issue extends to the garage as well."
He slowly reeled her back into his arms and started walking them back toward the bedroom. "I guess that means there should be no more interruptions tonight."
"Oh, did you have some activity in mind you didn't want interrupted?"
"I had some thoughts." He leaned down and kissed her. Warmth surged in her veins. She wasn't surprised. She didn't think she'd ever get enough of him.
"Mmh. She hummed. "Good thoughts. Although, thinking can on occasion be overrated."
"You think so?" he asked as he swept her up in his arms and began to carry her through the apartment.
"Ask me again later."
***
Felicity rolled over in bed, burying her face in the pillow. God it was obscene how brightly the sun shone in the mornings. They must have left the blinds open when they'd gone to bed early. Not that there had been much sleeping involved. She smiled as she gave in to waking up only to open her eyes to an empty bed. How late had she slept? She checked the clock and it was well after nine.
She listened to the apartment and it was silent. For a second, the clear sign of an empty apartment left her with a sick feeling. She rolled out of bed, looking for answers. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hit her when she left the bedroom. Once she was in the kitchen, she found a post-it note stuck on the machine.
"Gone to meet John at the gym."
She crumpled it in her hand. She wasn't upset he was at Wildcat's. But for a moment when she realized she was alone, the crazy thought that he'd left for good flashed through her mind. Last night had been fantastic, but they'd resolved nothing.
She poured the coffee in a travel mug she could bring with her into the bathroom while she got ready, taking a first sip before she secured the lid. It tasted as fresh as it smelled. Oliver probably wouldn't be back for a couple hours at least, but the moment he came back, they were talking. Putting this off was ridiculous. And painful.
After showering, she put on a pair of well-worn jeans and a bright top. The soft denim molded to her ass like a second skin and the neckline of deep red top was cut just a bit too low. She looked in the mirror and nodded; she'd take any advantage going into this chat.
At a little before 10, there was a knock at the door. She unplugged her hair dryer and quickly applied her lipstick. There. She was ready to face the day.
The knock came again. It wasn't likely to be Oliver; it was too soon and he'd have used his key, though it was possible he'd forgotten it. Unlikely. Maybe Thea? Please, she thought as she walked to the door, don't let it be Moira. She peeked through the peephole but didn't see anyone waiting. Curious, she opened the door. She shouldn't have.
Felicity sighed and backed into the apartment. "Dammit. Why couldn't you have been Moira?"