It's finally done! Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to read this story & put up with my scattered updating skills. It's been a lot of fun to write. Timeline-wise, I'm imagining Slade turns up at the mansion not long after this concludes & the season plays out from there as it did on TV. Hope you all enjoy the final chapter!

"So," prompted Felicity, taking the last sip of red wine from her glass as the credits on the movie began to roll. "What's the verdict?"

Oliver idly folded his arms behind his head, stretching out the muscles in his back. "My verdict on the movie or your running commentary about what was missing from the book?" he teased.

"I was trying to give you the complete experience!" she said. "Just think of me as your own personal DVD extra." She rolled the stem of the wine glass between her hands. "Or don't because that's pretty weird now I've vocalized it."

"I never said it was a bad thing," he replied, resting an arm across the back of the leather recliner. "Both were exemplary."

Felicity smiled at him, her eyes briefly flickering to his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. "And I think it's exemplary you can come up with exemplary words after consuming wine."

"We haven't had that much," he replied, glancing from the empty bottle on the floor to the recently opened one nestled next to his thigh.

"Did I sense a 'yet'?" she asked, raising her glass with a smile. "Because I am all about plans that involve more wine."

He laughed, grabbing onto the bottle with one hand and his glass with another as he gently eased himself up, minding his injured knee. "Shall we?" he asked, nodding his head towards the general vicinity of the kitchen. "You can go on ahead, I'll catch up."

Felicity shuffled her feet back into her cow slippers she'd toed off during the film, shaking her head. "I think I'll just stick with you if that's OK?" she said, stepping into place next to him as he hobbled out the room.

Oliver glanced down at her, sharing in her smile. "You're just worried I'll finish this off on the way without you, aren't you?" he said, waving the Pinot Noir in the air.

"Yeah, that must be it," she grinned.

Felicity's heels made a drumming sound against the drawers of the island bench as she perched on top, swinging her legs freely. "… And that's the reason why I started to dye my hair blonde," she concluded, taking another bite of the grilled cheese toast they'd decided was vital to balance out their alcohol festivity.

"It's strange to think you used to have black hair," said Oliver, sitting on the bench across from her. "I can't imagine you with it."

"Excuse me, you watch where you're going with any hair-related comments," she threatened, pointing her toast triangle at him. "I've seen photos of you in your younger days." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "You looked like you were wearing a wig."

He snorted, taking a sip of his wine. "Laurel used to cut it for me sometimes."

"For a hairdresser, Laurel makes a pretty fantastic lawyer," Felicity replied, lifting her glass in a mock cheers. "OK your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

She rolled her eyes. "You'd think after five rounds you'd become less predictable."

He shrugged. "Well it's not called 'truth or truth' is it?"

"Fine," she sighed. "I dare you to…" She cast her eyes around the room, smirking when she spotted his phone. "I dare you to send a duck face selfie to Roy."

"You want me to what?"

"Y'know, duck face," she implored, pouting her lips exaggeratedly. "Do your best Snooki. Channel your inner Miley Cyrus."

Oliver quirked an eyebrow, picking up his phone. "Sometimes I think you just make up words and assume I won't notice because you talk so fast."

"And sometimes I think you're the world's youngest old person," she retorted, hopping off the bench. "Come on, gramps, I'll show you how it's done." Felicity sidled in next to him as he circled an arm around her carefully, holding the phone out in front of them. "Give me your best Blue Steel."

He took the photo, earning a poke in the ribs when he showed her the result. "What was that for?"

"This blank look of nothing-ness you're giving me!" Felicity exclaimed, gesturing at the image. "I said Blue Steel not… Beige Aluminium."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, well, neither does your dumb face." She bit her lower lip, holding back a grin as Oliver couldn't help but laugh. "Hello and welcome to Felicity Smoak's tipsy trash talk hour," she said glancing up at him before bursting into a giggle. She froze when she heard the camera go off. "Oliver! I wasn't ready. I probably have five chins. And then each of those chins will have their own chin!"

He smiled as he brought up the photo on the screen. Felicity had her head tipped back in carefree laughter, her hand clutching at his shirt, while Oliver beamed down at her his eyes crinkling. "I like this one," he said fondly.

"Aside from my chin family tree… Yeah, me too," she agreed, turning her head to meet his warm gaze. "It's no duck face, though," she quickly added, pushing gently on his arm so she could step away a couple of paces. She reached for his glass. "Refill?" she asked, not waiting for a response as she poured a generous amount.

"Thanks," he said, putting his phone in his pocket while she filled up her own glass.

Felicity frowned. "You still haven't finished your dare."

"Probably best if I don't," he admitted. "Roy doesn't need any more ammo for his 'special' brand of humor."

"Well," she mused, resting her hip against the bench, "as the rules of truth or dare go, that means you have to take your turn again. So, truth or dare? Wow, whatever will you…"

"Truth," he replied, startling her into silence with a smug smile.

"Now we're talking," she said enthusiastically. Felicity took a slow sip of wine, running through the list of questions in her mind before settling on the winner. "Why do you keep injuring yourself so much?" she asked hesitantly, schooling her face into a more serious expression.

The smile dropped from Oliver's mouth as he cast his eyes downward. "Felicity…" he started, massaging the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Please?"

He glimpsed back at her, getting caught in the sparks of care and concern in that one simple word. "You're probably not going to like where this is headed," he cautioned.

"I had a feeling I wouldn't based on all of your avoidance tactics," she replied, offering him a brief quirk of her lips before placing her hand on his, stilling his restless fingers tapping against the bench top. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?"

Oliver nodded, glancing at their hands and swallowing a decent amount of his wine. "I keep getting injured - more so than usual," he amended, "because… I'd rather deal with the physical pain over the emotional. If I lost someone the way I lost Tommy, I don't," he paused, licking his lips. "I don't know if I'd be able to pick up the pieces again."

"Oliver…" Felicity exhaled sympathetically, grasping onto his hand that little bit tighter.

He opened his mouth to continue, spurred on by the alcohol and her unwavering presence. "I just figure, better me hurt than anyone else, y'know? And now with Sara and Roy in the picture, as much help as they are, it only equals more people to eventually lose." He shook his head. "I can't lose anyone else, Felicity. Especially not…" Oliver trailed off, gently turning his hand over so he could interlace their fingers.

Felicity put down her wine and stepped forward, moving her free hand to caress Oliver's face the way he'd done with her in so many times of comfort. "Hey," she said, waiting for him to meet her gaze. "Do you remember what you said to me at that rally, when I thought your mom was going to try and turn us against one another?"

"You're not going to lose me," he murmured, continuing to trace patterns against her skin with his thumb.

"Exactly," Felicity replied, shuffling so that she was standing in front of him, her body pressed lightly against his legs. She let her hand trail down from his cheek to rest on his chest. "And you're not going to lose me." She could feel his heartbeat thumping erratically under her touch. "Not if I can help it."

"That's just it, though," he said softly, his expression pained. "There are so many other extenuating circumstances in our line of work that we can't…"

"Oliver," she said, cutting him off. "I know it's in your DNA but sometimes it's OK to stop thinking in worst case scenario terms." She broke into a slow smile. "And you can stop putting me to shame with all your fancy vocab any time now, too."

He blinked at her, snapping out of his sombre mood with a short, surprised laugh.

"I'm serious," she added, happy she'd lifted his spirits. "If I wasn't already aware you knew nothing about the guy, I'd swear you'd be breaking out the Shakespeare next."

"What can I say?" said Oliver nonchalantly. "Wine loosens my tongue." He suddenly paused. "With words," he clarified unnecessarily. "Not… other ways."

"Did you just do me?" Felicity's hand flew from his chest to smack herself in the forehead. "A me-like ramble I mean… God, we're getting as bad as each other." Oliver fought back a tiny smirk. "What?" she frowned.

"Nothing," he said, eyes alight with mischief when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I was just going to say we must be rubbing off on one another but I didn't want to make things worse." He stared at her for a beat before they both broke into laughter.

"I am so glad this place isn't bugged anymore," said Felicity, their amusement eventually fading into a comfortable silence. She gently unlatched her hand from where it was still in his grasp to rest against his damaged knee. "Oliver?"

"Hmm?"

Felicity lifted her head to look at him. "Can you try and take it easier on yourself? For your own sake most of all, but also for my peace of mind?"

He gazed back at her, resisting the urge to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. "I'll try."

"Good."

Cradling a bowl of popcorn in one arm, and another bottle of red in the other, Felicity settled onto the sofa in the living room. She tucked her legs underneath her, careful to angle her body so her wounded shoulder wasn't pressed into the back of the cushion. Oliver was already seated beside her; his legs sprawled out in front to rest on the coffee table, as he held the remote up to the TV in barely restrained annoyance.

"Eight million channels and there's still nothing on," he groused, wincing at the infomercial currently blaring at them like it had personally offended him.

Felicity opened the wine, smiling when Oliver automatically dropped the remote and picked up their empty glasses ready for her to pour. "Don't be so quick to judge," she replied. "The voiceover is promising us 'a magical mystery tour."

"They're advertising a juicer, Felicity," he said bluntly.

"A magical juicer," she refuted, contemplating the levels of alcohol in each glass before adding a touch more. "When was the last time an appliance promised you that?"

Oliver glanced at her. "Next time the toaster abracadabras a white rabbit instead of bread you'll be the first to know."

She laughed, setting down the bottle to dig her hand into the buttery popcorn. "I'm sure there's a Friends re-run on somewhere. Just keep looking."

"Ross was right," Oliver mused. "They probably could have got the furniture up there with another pivot or two."

Felicity snorted. "Oh my God, this is priceless." She shook her head with a smile at his confused look. "You, Digg and Roy helping me move out of my apartment? You were such a Ross."

"I think you mean boss," he countered.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, OK, because I seem to remember the other two plotting to throw you out the fire escape when you spent an hour trying to awkwardly shove my bookshelf through the doorway."

"We got it out in the end didn't we?"

"After Digg dismantled it first," she said with a laugh.

He shrugged, his mouth lifting up at the corners. "At least now we know the quickest way to move it if you set it up here one day." Realizing what he'd just implied he quickly backtracked. "Or in your own apartment where you'd probably prefer it," he added, fixing his eyes on the TV screen.

Felicity gazed at him, knowing it wasn't just the effects of the wine filling her cheeks with warmth. "Yeah, you definitely don't want my furniture in here," she said lightly. "I think that goes against some sort of 'temporary houseguest' code and we wouldn't want that."

Oliver glanced back at her, pretending to give the idea some solemn thought. "No, we wouldn't want that," he echoed.

She ducked her head, brushing some stray popcorn off her lap. "I mean, if we go down that route, next thing you know there'll be matching monogrammed towels in the bathroom," she said in feigned seriousness.

"In all three bathrooms," Oliver replied. "We're not wild animals." He smiled when she chuckled lightly under her breath.

"The study would be turned into a shrine for my old yet still adored computer collection," she continued.

He nodded. "The kitchen would be overrun with sugary cereals."

Felicity propped up her elbow on the back of the couch, leaning her head on her hand. "Well it's not like we'll ever want to hire a chef again, so it's all we'll have to survive on."

"That's true," he agreed. "Just you, me and Lucky the leprechaun against the world."

They clinked their glasses together to solidify the deal, smiling at one another as they each took a drink. "But we definitely wouldn't want that," said Felicity, her voice quiet with reflection.

"No," said Oliver with a sad smile, "we definitely wouldn't."

"I think the wine is finally doing its damage to me," Felicity admitted a short while later, her sentence strung together in a languid fashion.

Oliver held up his hand for a high-five. "Same here," he said, as her hand clumsily lunged forward and made contact with his wrist. "Remind me to teach you about aim one day." He pursed his lips. "Not with sharp arrows though."

Felicity nudged the empty popcorn bowl onto the floor with the tip of her cow slipper before nestling in against Oliver's side. "I feel kind of hot all over but also kind of cold? Like that song by that singer person." She peered up at him. "Do you know that singer person?"

He gave her question some serious thought. "… Maybe?"

"Don't worry, you probably don't," she pacified, patting his chest. "I'll remember it soon. My brain is full of lots of smart things… That have names and shapes and colors and…" She scrunched up her nose. "Probably shouldn't drink anymore alcohol now."

Oliver watched her rub her tired eyes under her glasses. He lifted his arm to place it around her shoulder, flinching when she sucked in a hissing breath. "Shit, I'm sorry," he stammered, quickly retracting his arm. "I completely forgot. Did I hurt you?"

"It's alright," she replied, meeting his concerned gaze. "Really, it skipped my mind for a while too." She pumped her fist in a lazy cheer. "Yay for wine!"

"Are you sure?"

"No, you suck and I'll hate you forever," she said deprecatingly.

He smirked, moving his arm again to settle it on the back of the sofa behind her head. "You're a mean drunk, Ms Smoak," he deadpanned.

She poked his bicep. "And you're a 'forgets to offer their roommate a comfy sofa blanket' drunk," she replied, giving the linen in question draped over the arm of the furniture a pointed look.

"Well done on the short name," he said, grabbing the blanket with his free hand and carefully wrapping it around both of their bodies, cocooning them. Oliver smiled when she tucked her head under his chin, affection surging through him like an electrical jolt. "Katy Perry," he murmured offhandedly. "She's the singer."

Felicity drew her head back to gape at him. "How and why do you know the thing?"

"Raisa listens to all kinds of music back at the mansion," he mumbled.

She poked her tongue between her teeth. "Sing a bit for me?" she asked mischievously.

"I'd rather send twenty selfies to Roy."

"Felicity?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think I should buy that juicer?"

"I know you should buy that juicer."

"Cool."

"Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Sing some Katy Perry for me."

"No."

"Well then you leave me no choice."

"No choice for what?"

"Oliver Queen, you have failed this Felicity."

"That's not… don't do that."

Felicity yawned deeply; only semi-focusing on the orangutan documentary that neither of them had bothered to switch over nearly an hour and a half ago. "I never had a proper burial for those sea monkeys I killed in elementary school," she admitted, stirring Oliver from the short doze he'd fallen into pressed against her side.

"Who killed what?" he murmured groggily into her hair, before leaning back and attempting to shake out the pins and needles from his arm.

"Just flushed them right down the toilet," she continued guiltily, reaching across Oliver's stomach to locate the remote. She turned the TV off and stretched out her legs, resting them next to Oliver's on the coffee table. "What time is it?"

Oliver fished around in his pocket for his phone, pressing a button to light up the screen. "After three. It's pretty late."

"We should probably turn in," she said, stifling another yawn before reluctantly unwrapping herself from their shared blanket. "Ooh, headspin," she said, steadying herself at the movement. "That's going to be fun in the morning."

"You go," said Oliver as she stood up and waited for him. "I might just stay here so I don't have to attempt the stairs with my knee."

She frowned at him. "Don't be ridiculous, you won't get a good night's sleep laying on there." Felicity held out her hand, wriggling her fingers at him. "I'll help you."

"Felicity…"

"Nope, no name protests, get up," she said, smiling when he sighed and conceded defeat like she knew he would. Oliver took her proffered hand, but used most of his own weight to lift himself up. "It's OK, I won't break," she encouraged.

"Coming from the person with the battered shoulder."

Felicity gave him her best defiant look. "Who says we'll need a shoulder?" She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her waist. "Come on, hotshot, let's go." She felt his fingers tense against her tank top for a split second before relaxing.

"I take it back," he said, as they slowly made their way to the staircase, only stumbling a couple of times along the way.

"Take what back?"

"You're not a mean drunk, you're a bossy drunk."

"I can still drop you on your ass you know," she goaded. "Which may accidentally happen anyway because you're kinda dead weight right now." She waited for him to grab onto the railing. "It's a good thing I didn't take any painkillers – you're not supposed to operate heavy machinery."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, climbing up the first couple of stairs.

"Think of it as a compliment – like you're the Terminator," she enthused, placing a hand on his arm. "I know you're awful at English accents but how's your Arnold?" Felicity smiled as she was met with an exasperated sigh in return.

When they reached the top Oliver braced an arm against the wall and cast a despairing look down the hallway, his bedroom appearing miles away. "This place is way too big," he muttered.

Anchoring his arm around her waist once more, Felicity gently nudged him ahead. "Any way I phrase this it's going to sound wrong but… Come stay in my room. Only for a quick stopover," she clarified. "It's the closest out of the two," she reasoned, "and we can pump some herbs and spices into you, which makes you sound like a KFC combo, but you know what I mean."

Oliver opened his mouth to valiantly protest, but a sudden twinge in his knee had him gritting his teeth. "Maybe for five minutes," he conceded.

Emerging from her en suite with a glass of water, Felicity perched at the end of her bed and handed the drink to Oliver, who was propped up against the headboard with an abundance of fluffy pillows (at Felicity's insistence).

"Thanks," he said, taking a sip. He tentatively flexed his wounded knee up and down, testing the movement as best he could.

"Island medicine mojo kicked in yet?" Felicity asked, undoing her hair elastic and shaking out her ponytail.

"Getting there," he said, taking another mouthful of water before placing the glass on the nightstand. He saw an untidy pile of rental applications nearby and picked them up, noticing with a fleeting moment of curiosity that Felicity still hadn't completed the majority of them. "I hate filling out forms as well," he said conversationally, nodding at the papers. "Which probably isn't the best thing for a CEO of a company to admit."

Felicity huffed out a soft laugh, tracing her fingers across the striped pattern of the bedspread. "The funny thing is, I usually really enjoy it. I find the structure of it soothing." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Those particular ones, though… not so much."

Oliver gazed at her with a soft expression, before clearing his throat. "Probably just as well anyway," he said, breaking the quiet moment. "You've spelt your own surname name wrong on this one." He held the wrinkled form in front of him and read aloud. "S-m-o-k-e? You're slipping."

"What? No way," Felicity exclaimed, crawling forward across the mattress until she was sitting next to Oliver, peering at the paper in his hand. She heard him start to chuckle and yanked the form away to swat his arm with it. "You are such a liar!" She laughed. "Those herbs should come with a warning label for side effects – may cause nausea and jerk-itis."

He leaned in towards her ear. "Payback for the Terminator quip," he replied, eyes shining with amusement.

"Oh please," she scoffed, "like you're the wounded party here." Felicity matched his stance, leaning closer into his space. "As if you don't secretly love it," she teased. The words caught in her throat when Oliver's smile faded and was replaced with a more intense scrutiny. She swallowed roughly as he slowly lifted his hand, hesitating only a moment before twirling a lock of her hair around his fingers.

"I could," he said, the words tumbling out before he'd had a chance to even register he'd said them. Oliver heard her breath hitch and he glanced up at her, noticing the conflicting emotions dancing across her face. He unravelled the blonde strand from his grasp, letting it settle over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, starting to inch back, "I shouldn't have…"

Felicity grabbed onto his shirt, cutting off the rest of his sentence by surging forward and pressing her mouth to his in a searing kiss. She heard him breathe in sharply through his nose before moving his lips hungrily against hers, his hands travelling to rest on her lower back.

Oliver felt her nimble fingers glide up his chest and across the scruff of his cheek, gladly bowing to her whims when she gently tugged on the hair at the back of his head to change the angle and deepen the kiss. There was a lingering taste of red wine on her tongue when it curled around his. That and the feel of her in his arms was enough to send him into a euphoric, drunk high of a different kind.

She let out a soft moan when Oliver's fingers crept under the material of her tank top, skimming across her rapidly burning skin. Felicity shifted her body closer on instinct, haphazardly draping herself halfway across his lap. She arched back when Oliver's mouth left hers to press hot, wet kisses down her neck, her pulse thrumming under his touch. Felicity tilted his chin up to capture his mouth in another kiss, smiling against his lips when she scratched her fingernails through his hair causing him to groan.

Too immersed in the heady sensations, Oliver grasped her shoulders to pull her against him completely, realizing his error just as she drew back with a surprised yelp of pain. "Felicity," he gasped against her mouth apologetically, his breath hot against hers. "I'm a complete goddamn idiot. I'm sorry."

"It's OK," she panted, trying to collect herself as the dull ache emanating from her bruise made her wince. "I'll be fine." Untangling herself from his embrace, Felicity sat back on the messed-up bedspread with a shaky exhale. She shivered when she felt Oliver's hand softly brush over the skin on her shoulder.

"We should have taken you to the hospital," he said, his mouth set in a thin line as he reverently traced over the deep green and blue blemish covering her scar.

She turned towards him as he dropped his hand away. "Just like we should have taken you with your knee?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"That was… different."

"Yeah, because getting kung-fu'd into a parking meter really trumps nearly being run over by a car driven by goons," she retorted before breaking into an incredulous laugh. "Oh my God, our life is legitimately a video game."

Oliver tried to maintain his aura of concern but couldn't help a small smile from escaping. "You're only realizing this now?"

"I guess I just hadn't thought to hit pause and take stock until now," she replied, curling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. She glanced at him, her cheeks flushing when she took in his dishevelled appearance and knew she probably looked just as wrecked.

As if reading her thoughts, Oliver nervously ran a hand across his hair. "Um, maybe I should let you get some rest?"

"Right," Felicity nodded. "Or maybe," she added uncertainly, licking her lips before working up the courage again. "Maybe we just need a little help from an old acquaintance?" She met his confusion with a wry smile and mimed bouncing around a paperclip. "I see you've just made out with your best friend slash workmate and now things are slightly awkward – what would you like to do?"

Oliver broke into a relieved laugh, relaxing fractionally against the wall of pillows. "What suggestions does our mutual friend have in mind?"

"Well," said Felicity, "there's the first option where we part ways for the night and never speak of this again. A tried and true method but personally not a favorite of mine," she added as an aside.

"What's the second?"

Felicity tilted her head with a smile. "We act like adults and stay here to catch some Z's with the promise of a conversation in the morning. And yes," she added, glancing down at her shoes, "I am aware that would probably have a more adult air of authority to it if I weren't currently wearing cows on my feet."

He smiled at her as she kicked the slippers onto the ground. "It's OK, I'm convinced," he said, easing his legs to the side so they could drag down the comforter. "I'm even thinking about getting my own pair."

"Shut up," she muttered with a laugh, removing her glasses and placing them on the nightstand closest to her. She turned the lamp off and wriggled under the covers, taking care to lie on her good side. Nestling her head into the pillow, Felicity noticed that Oliver had mirrored her position on his side of the bed, their hands resting in between. She felt her stomach jolt with warmth when Oliver closed the gap and placed his hand over hers before closing his eyes. They lay in silence for a while until the darkness and comfort of the room lured them into sleep.

The shrill sound of an incoming text message woke Oliver with a start later that morning. He shoved a pillow over his head to block out the intrusion but the phone kept beeping at him until he finally gave in and retrieved it from his pocket. Lifting the pillow, he opened a bleary eye to see that it was just after seven, a time which Roy thought was vital to respond to texts.

dunno why u sent me ur modelling portfolio but if u ever make me slap water again im bringing out the duck face selfies as blackmail

p.s. i sent them 2 digg & sara 2 UR WELCOME!

Groaning, Oliver threw his cell to the end of the bed, vague memories hitting him of Felicity gleefully encouraging him at the height of their drunkenness to go through with the abandoned dare and send Roy some photos. He rolled onto his back to see why the noise hadn't woken her as well when he realized that her side of the bed was empty aside from a piece of paper. Oliver picked up the apartment application form and read the note written neatly on the back.

You can find me on the roof ready to zip line away from your snoring. Only kidding. I want to eat pancakes for breakfast not become one. But seriously though do you have sleep apnoea? You should get that checked out. No human should be that loud. OK this quick memo has suddenly become a novel, bye.

Oliver shook his head in amusement as he eased his body upwards, gently swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to check on his knee. But the herbs had apparently done wonders overnight and his movement range was back to a more manageable, and walkable, degree.

He found Felicity sitting on a deckchair amidst the scattered remnants of what was once a brilliant rooftop garden his mother had enjoyed tending to. She was sipping a mug of coffee, silver thermos by her side, as she gazed out at the city skyline.

Felicity glanced up when she heard movement nearby, smiling at Oliver over the edge of her cup when he sat on the chair beside her. "You're moving a lot better," she noted, offering him the spare mug she'd brought up with her. "Which is almost a shame because I had the nickname Sir Limps-a-lot all lined up for you."

Oliver poured the steaming liquid from the thermos into his cup, his lips twitching with a smile. "A shame indeed," he agreed. "Sorry you didn't get much sleep," he said, taking a sip of coffee.

She shrugged. "I don't think I would have anyway judging by the marching band currently celebrating its way through my skull." Felicity rubbed her temple. "Funnily enough they're playing 'Red Red Wine' over and over again."

"If it's any consolation I feel like shit as well," said Oliver. "Oh, and apparently Roy now has an arsenal of selfies he can terrorize me with too, so that's great."

Felicity cupped her hand to her mouth, trying not to snicker. "Wow, I thought I dreamt that," she mumbled, lowering her hand and scrunching her nose apologetically. "Whoops?"

"We'll just blame the wine," he replied, resting his forearms on his legs.

Nodding, Felicity played with the tie of her robe. "I don't think we should blame the wine entirely for everything that happened last night, though," she said carefully, looking up to gauge his response. "Do you?"

Oliver met her gaze, seeing his own shy uncertainty reflected in her eyes. "No," he replied. "Honestly, I think it may have actually illuminated something." He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "But we …"

"It's OK, I know what you're going to say," Felicity interrupted, offering him a small smile.

"You do?"

"I still remember the post-Russia discussion pretty well." She waved her hand at him when he opened his mouth to speak. "And I'm not upset or mad or anything," she added. "If I'm being truthful, I don't think either of us are in the right headspace at the moment to give our full attention to whatever this… thing is," she said, gesturing between them. "I just wanted…" She paused, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Tell me," Oliver gently encouraged.

Felicity exhaled slowly. "I just wanted some acknowledgement that this 'thing' could maybe play out one day. Because I'd convinced myself for a while there that there was not a hope in hell, but then lately… I don't know," she shrugged. "It's been different."

Bolstered by her openness and candour, Oliver reached across to grasp onto her hand. "I try not to make a lot of promises, especially to people close to me. Because with the way I live my life I know I can't always keep them," he admitted. "But believe me, Felicity." He gave her a soft smile. "I'd really like there to be a not-so-distant future where this could play out."

She smiled back at him, the expression tinted with a hint of sadness. "That's all I needed to hear for now," she nodded. "I decided to look at more apartments today," she said quietly. "I think it's probably time."

"As much as I've gotten used to this, it's probably a good idea for both of us to not be in such close quarters," Oliver replied, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Felicity closed her eyes as he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go, the moment between them packed away for another time. Shaking off the imaginary cobwebs they drew apart, allowing themselves to fall back into the safety of their usual banter.

"I don't know about you," Felicity said suddenly, sitting back with a gleam in her eyes, "but I could really go for a Bloody Mary and a big pretzel right about now."

He smiled fondly at her, angling his head to the side of the building. "Want to take the zip line to the shops?"

"Sure!"

"Wait, seriously?"

"God no. It's like you want me to throw up."

One week later

"Great! Thank you so much!" Felicity ended the call on her cell, grinning at everyone in the foundry. "The townhouse is officially mine!" she announced happily.

"That's awesome," Sara enthused. "When can you move in?"

"Tomorrow apparently," she replied, swerving her chair from side-to-side with a coy look. "Which means I'll need my favorite Team Arrow removal squad on hand to help with the heavy lifting."

Roy threw his head back with a groan. "But you have so much junk," he complained.

"Cry me a river, Mirakuru boy," said Diggle, glancing up from where he was cleaning his weapon collection. "Count me in, Felicity. And congratulations," he smiled.

"I'll be there this time too," said Sara, collecting her gym bag to head upstairs. "I've heard the legend of the bookcase but I need to see it in person."

"Thanks guys," said Felicity, chuckling at Roy's unenthused 'count me in too I guess' as she turned back to her computer. A loud thump sounded to her left where a large gift-wrapped box had suddenly appeared. She looked up to find Oliver smiling at her.

"Happy housewarming," he declared, his smile widening at her surprise. "I may have had this wrapped for a few days just in case."

She fingered the green ribbon with an amused look. "You didn't have to get me anything, Oliver."

He smirked to himself like he was in on some private joke. "Oh trust me. I did."

Felicity shrugged. "OK then, well, cool!" She handed him some printouts she'd just doctored. "Here's the tickets for that club you're infiltrating tonight."

"Thanks."

"And I was thinking, seeing as it's my last night at the penthouse and all, that you might want to watch a movie for old time sake after you're done?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Sounds good."

"Play your cards right and I might actually let you watch a Stallone one."

"Well now I'm definitely in." He smiled at her, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'm going to miss having a roommate," he said sincerely.

"Me too," she replied, grinning back at him. "Mainly because of your wine collection, but you factor in there somewhere too." Felicity laughed as he just shook his head and walked over to set up the gym mats. She turned her attention to her present and eagerly ripped into the paper, cracking up when she saw what was inside.

One brand new juicer.

End