Kinda prompt. Kinda sequel. Wholly olicity.

Felicity sat on her bed in her pajamas. Oliver had returned to his hotel half an hour ago after dropping her off at her door, including a very lengthy good-bye kiss to which she did not object.

She was watching the news coverage of the Olympics. She didn't know what station this channel was, what time zone they were broadcasting for, or even what time zone they were broadcasting from. All she knew is they were reporting more on her and Oliver's kiss than either of their medals. Or anyone else's medals and events.

This station had a scrolling banner of people tweeting on the current story or to the newscasters directly. Apparently their kiss (#OlympicMakeOut) was the fastest rising trending topic in Twitter history.

And #Sochi2014 dropped out of the top three.

Wonderful, she thought sardonically as she glared at the television.

There was a knock at her door. She opened it to find Oliver standing there looking somewhat sheepish. "Hey," he said quietly with a small curve to his lips.

"Hey," she replied with a smile, swinging the door wider for him. She was thankful her room was one where the doorknob stayed attached to the door. And her curtains to the wall. Not that they would need the windows covered, it was just…handy.

"Watching the Olympics?" Oliver asked with an amused smile as he draped his jacket over one of the room's chairs. Felicity almost wished he'd kept his jacket on; the shirt he wore fit him very well and it was more than a little distracting.

"I was trying to find out how everyone else did today," she explained, taking a seat at the edge of her bed, "but they never get anywhere, because every few minutes they go back to this!" She gestured annoyingly at the television.

Oliver watched the screen for a moment, just as a tweet from "Dirk Johnson" popped up on the screen: He totally used tongue. Get it Queen! #OlympicMakeOut " CaptainQueen Felicity_Smoak

"Oh," was all Oliver said. That was really all you could say when you find out you kissing a girl is a trending topic. And, oh dear, her parents were going to see this!

"Yeah," she agreed. Her eyes moved from the television to Oliver. "Pretty glad I blocked notification from people I don't follow now. My phone would be blowing up otherwise. It hasn't stopped from people I do know."

"That explains why my phone won't shut up," he muttered, pulling his iPhone from his pocket.

Smiling at him, Felicity held out her hand to fix his Twitter app settings.

"Thanks," he said, sitting beside her on the bed. "That's kinda why I came over."

"So I can fix your phone?" she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "Pretty sure Digg or Roy could have helped you out."

"No, about the… about our kiss," he elaborated nervously, taking his phone back from her.

"Oh," Felicity said, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Yeah. Okay." How do people respond to things like this? Just relax, be normal, she told herself. What is normal? Today I won a silver medal in the Olympics, then made out with the captain of an Olympic hockey team on international television. I have no definition of normal.

Staring at his hands, Oliver began, "I was in my hotel and started thinking-"

"Never a good sigh," she broke in with a smile.

His eyes turned to hers, mirroring her smile. Felicity never realized how much she liked Oliver looking at her until now. "But I got to thinking that maybe this was a 'what-happens-in-Russia' thing and I… I don't want it to be that," he finished looking at her seriously.

Felicity inhaled quickly, staring into his eyes. He was being sincere; she could read the honesty in his gaze. Her mind was suddenly void of everything but his blue-green eyes as he watched her. Felicity knew in that moment she wanted to stare into those eyes for years to come. "I don't want that, either," she told him softly.

She leaned in, a hand going to his face, her lips pressing to his, and it was as fantastic as the hockey rink, as wonderful as when he dropped her off at her door. His calloused hand came to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as her mouth opened under his and the kiss deepened.

Felicity's hand moved to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. Leaning back to the bed, she pulled Oliver with her, lips never leaving his, never breaking the kiss. Her heart pounded in her chest as his finger toyed with a strand of her hair and his free hand moved along her waist. His fingers brushed against her bare skin and arousal flooded her body.

"Hey, Felicity!" a voice called from the other room. "There's this video that went viral from the men's hockey game," the connecting door between the two rooms swung in and an athletic blonde walked through, "and it really looks like you're making out with Oliver Queen!" She stopped suddenly, looking up from her tablet and staring at the two sitting rigidly on the bed. Felicity could sense how disheveled her hair must look. "Oh," snowboarder Sara Lance said slowly, taking in the scene. "I guess it is you in the video."

"Hello, Sara," Oliver said. "Congrats on your prelims. You ride again tomorrow?"

"Yeah…" Sara answered, looking from Oliver to Felicity. Felicity could see her asking what she wanted her to do. "Final run for the halfpipe. For the gold, you know." Felicity glared at her. Go away. I love you, but go away. "Then I have slopstyle in a few days. Congrats on your win! Great match, really intense."

"Felicity was actually really helpful with our game against Russia," Oliver said, looking at her with a fond smile, placing a hand over hers as it rested on her knee. "And even in the semifinals before that."

Sara's eyes darted to Felicity's again, eyes widening and eyebrows lifting. "Okay," she said loudly, looking between Oliver and her friend. She pressed her lips together and Felicity knew Sara was fighting a smile. "Well. It was great catching up! 'Night!"

Oliver turned to Felicity as Sara left between their adjoining doors. He looked completely perplexed as Felicity stared back as innocently as possible.

"Best friend," she explained when the door shut. "We don't lock the doors. Cause we're best friends."

Oliver nodded. "Are you going to lock it tonight?" he asked softly, the most hesitant she had ever seen him. He hadn't even looked this nervous trying out for the national team. Not even starting his first game for the national team. Oliver Queen had never, in her memory, been nervous.

Felicity stared at him. She could feel her heart thudding throughout her body, butterflies flapping madly in her stomach. Silently, she stood and walked to the door, turning the deadbolt.