Title: kiss me like you mean it

Summary: It took Felicity months (Diggle would say years but what does he know) to realize how often Oliver kissed her.

Olicity Hiatus Project Prompt: "Wanting to kiss you? No. It's sort of always there… like… white noise, or… the secret service or the threat of nuclear war, for that matter. Just somethin' you get used to." - Pacey Witter, Dawson's Creek

The first time he kissed her on the lips was under the mistletoe at a Christmas gala, and it was a light peck between friends who hugged right after. Platonic. Sweet. Caring. Even loving, because she did feel loved, the way he cupped her chin and held her elbow and kissed her like he loved her since the day he was born.

But… That kiss couldn't be filled with romantic love because it's Oliver. Oliver and Felicity together didn't make sense; they agreed on this many years ago when they finally defeated Slade.

Except… he kept doing it.

It took Felicity months to notice it, to make a connection between the light kisses on her cheek when he left, to the soft forehead kisses he'd give her when he'd walk her home and thought she finally fell asleep.

And then when he'd hug her, from the soft goodbye hugs after a long night to the tight clutch of gripping someone who was on death's row, he'd always press a kiss to her hair, muttering words of how he hoped she had a good night or how he couldn't live without her and she couldn't risk her life like that again.

Sometimes Diggle would comment on it, and she wouldn't understand what he was referring to until one fateful night when she finally made the connection.

"He finally made a move?" Diggle asked amusingly, on the nights when none of their lives were at stake but Oliver didn't leave without pressing a kiss to her head.

She looked up and raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his comment. "What do you mean?"

Diggle just blankly stared at her for a second before rolling his eyes and turning around, muttering something under his breath about turtles moving faster.

… Oh. Looking back, she wonders how it took her so long to face the truth.

So she resolved herself to do something about it, the next time Oliver kissed her.

(She didn't actually have the courage to do so till today, one month later, and even then it was because circumstances were beyond her control because she was apparently not the greatest swimmer. She was also not really conscious.)

"Felicity!" Oliver held her nose and exhaled into her mouth before performing another chest compression. "Please, stay with me, Felicity!" he cried urgently, continuing to perform CPR until she finally jumped up, hacking up water and coughing, her chest painfully burning.

"You're okay, you're okay", Oliver whispered to her, slowly rubbing her chest before pressing his lips to her forehead, to her hair, to her cheek and she finally turned her head around and in the dark recesses of her mind she remembered the promise she made to herself, and when Oliver reached down to kiss her cheek again she moved and met him with her lips.

An hour later, she mumbled in the hospital bed that Oliver insisted she lay in, where he was rubbing circles along her wrist and pressing his forehead to her stomach, as if not believing she was really there, alive.

"You know…" Felicity said quietly to him when the hospital room was empty, because Diggle was right. They were slower than turtles and as cute and adorable as turtles were, Felicity was never the type to be indecisive about what she wanted. She needed to do this, needed to make the first step, because she knew deep down that Oliver wanted this as much as she did. "That wasn't how I imagined our first real kiss to go."

Oliver looked up at her, his eyes sparkling, and he honest to God laughed, holding her wrist tighter and looking at her like he had loved her since the day he was born.

I dwell at voubledision on Tumblr.