Post Season 2 finale.
Int. Felicity’s apartment. 4pm. Raining outside.
Shutting the door quietly behind him, he slipped his shoes off, and made his way into the hallway, where her voice bounced off the glass door she was staring out of, her attention rapt, her whole body was with the phone-call she was in.
“John, I have in my hands – well, not in my hands, but at the cave - intercepted KGB data telling me to tell you that it’s NOT a good idea.”
She bit her lip while processing Digg’s answer. Dry, determined, he was the man in the corner of the ring that always had her back, and Oliver was strongly in favour of that - in case…
His brow creased slightly, but it relaxed upon hearing what she babbled on about next.
“Well, fine. Don’t say I never told you anything. Get some… Yeah. Avocado, no may-… Yep. John, your genius is underrated but it is Team Arrow registered, don’t you dare work at IBM. They stole my Unilateral EMIX code.”
Oliver placed his jacket gently onto the countertop, without taking his eyes off her. He felt the warmth radiating from the pit of his stomach creep over his breast.
“- Mmmkay. To think, that Oliver prefers it on the overcooked side. Baffling.”
He now stood perhaps 3 feet behind her. And she hadn’t registered him at all.
“Yep, More for me. I ain’t complainin’, son…” she snorted.
“Insufficient ghetto cred? I thought so. Okay, okay, I’ll-” she chirped, grinning, turning on her heel, seeing Oliver in white shirt, top button undone, both hands in pockets. Her eyes widened, a flash of pain. And then something almost like relief.
“-mmmbyeJohn,” she muttered quickly, ending the call.
She stood, rooted in her place, the corners of her eyes crinkling as her fixed her gaze upon him. She tilted her chin upwards a little, seeming as though she was willing herself silent. As though she was dreaming this and she was willing herself lucid.
Oliver took a step forward, and she raised her face slightly to match his gaze, which was very much focused on her.
Taking another step forward had Oliver facing her, the sleeves of his shirt almost, but not quite, brushing the tops of her arms.
Her name ended in an almost-dip. As though he had found her at last, but he was almost amused by everything it had taken to get him here. But he was still looking right at her.
She didn’t respond. She held her position of chin-slightly-upturned. Returning his gaze with the steel he so admired, but without any curiosity. He had never seen her more engaged in her internal ocean.
She said it with no incredulity. But it was mixed with a touch of what was building up in him as he lowered his face a little, hand grasping hers.
“I’ll tell you everything. Felicity.” Her name was a stunning reminder to himself of the gravity she exuded. For him.
“John managed to intercept the pseudo Cossack arms deal by himself,” she muttered, slightly dazed, her hand warm in his. Her lips were parted. He could feel her breath on his own ear.
“And someone’s back in town that I think you should know about.”
He kissed her cheek softly. He didn’t pull back after it.
She was trembling a little now. Her eyes closed.
“Two months, Oliver,” she breathed the words almost hollowly, and he could see the colour flooding her cheeks.
“I’ll tell you–“ he found her, kissed her softly.
“Everything,” she finished for him, when she opened her eyes. She had kissed him back searchingly, but with restraint.
He brought her hand up to his lips, and kissed it, pulling her into an embrace, he could feel her body dissolve into his as she probably finally let herself believe he was home with them. He could feel her breathing against him, gulping air as though she was relearning the art.
“You don’t get to go off the grid again. I know all your secrets, Queen,” she said, a huge grin on her face, when she’d finally let go. She punched him in the chest.
“Owch,” she blurted, shaking her hand.
“I don’t think you know this other one I have,” said Oliver, an even smile on his face.
He kissed her again, and that ‘sometimes we get to kiss someone, and the experience is so utterly intoxicating and beyond expectation, that thought falls away and it is blessed relief and almost shocking all at once’ feeling washed over them both. Their world had always been shot through with uncertainty.
“You surprise me… in ways that surprise me,” he said quietly, near incredulous.
“Like an infinite donut of surprise? Hall of mirrors?” she broke away, for once, her natural questioning stance replaced by a deep but simple awe. Her breath seemed to have run away with Oliver. He noted that she didn’t seem to mind the loss of control. Their embrace loosened a little to allow them to catch some air.
“An infinite hall of donut mirrors,” he said after a beat, trying not to crack a smile. For some reason, he felt his cheeks heating, and tears threatening. And that’s when his smile broke through. He couldn’t stop looking directly at her face. He didn’t feel the need to stop. She was in the space between the discipline, the effort. She had at some point arrived in the nameless non-entity between what he trusted to be thought and action; that mysterious nothingness he began to feel when he had truly mastered himself. He felt that his own focus was reflected in her curiosity.
Felicity was looking at him calmly, a tear already trickling down her cheek. She was at the centre of her own world and the architect of his. The smartest woman he’d even known. And now, she was stillness itself. Radiating something he didn’t need to name.
She looked up at him, kissed her fingers, and placed them on his lips.
“I love you, too, Oliver.”
He looked utterly lost and utterly found at the same time. They plopped down on the couch, hands loosely held, and sat next to each other in complete silence, for a while.
Felicity pulled her feet up under her, and all was well with the world.
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