He wakes with a mouthful of blonde hair.

Under circumstances more concerning (and painful) than this one, he'd take a great deal of comfort in knowing that she is with him, his beloved Girl Friday, because Felicity is the one person he's always been able to rely on. She's the most reliable, constant person in his life. But, now, waking up with a mouthful of blonde hair is amusing because it means she's abandoned her side of the bed for his. Again.

She's a left-side sleeper, he's a right, and usually never the twain shall meet. Of course, that is providing that they are in their own beds. On those nights, though, when neither of them can handle what waits for them in their dreams, they're a little broken down and a little vulnerable, and they crawl into her bed and they seek in each other, what they'd never find alone.

Her hair is soft when he combs it out of his mouth and settles it against her head. It smells of clean white soap and something that's a bit sweet. He presses his face into it and releases a long breath because here, now, he is just Oliver. Palmer Technologies, Ray Palmer, Arrow, and whatever other chaos in his life, it didn't matter.

"Felicity," he breathes softly, looking down at the woman pressed against him. "Felicity?"

Deep breaths.

Steady, even, breaths.

He laughs quietly because any other time, she'd jump out of her skin with him this close. But, now, when it is a mutual closeness, she's sleeping and doesn't hear a word he says.

"Felicity?" he tests a bit louder volume but she doesn't flinch. "Felicity? Fel-i-city?"

Her fingers peek out and curl around the edge of the blanket, pulling it down with her as she burrows further into him. "Hmm." Her sigh of contentment vibrates through him and he decides that waking her up isn't worth disturbing this; this kind of contentment.

This kind of peace.

When her eyes are closed, her breathing is soft and steady against his chest, and she's curled into him as if he is the only shelter she needs. When she's dressed in kitten-decorated pajama pants and a t-shirt that may or may not belong to him – information she's not willing to disclose.

He doesn't say another word, just tightens his arms around her, and closes his eyes again. To say that Oliver Queen didn't have much peace in his life would be greatly understating the enormity of what he dealt with on a daily basis but there is one exception. And she's blonde and her eyes are bluer than the water he stared at for five years and she looks better in a dress than Laurel and Sara ever did. And, she is the one person, he wants in his life for a long, long time.

Felicity Smoak.

She is always his exception.