Title: All the Facets of You

Author: Some1FoundMe

Rating: K+

Summary: Once again Felicity gets into trouble and Oliver rescues her. But it's what happens after that rescue that's important. Olicity. Anything up to 2x09.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Arrow. Just borrowing it for a bit.

A/N: This originally was intended to be a part of the "Their Soundtrack" story line but it ended up running away from me. Since it took on a life of its own, it gets to stand alone.

All the Facets of You

She was lying beside him, her arms curled around one of the few pillows on his bed, her hair a curtain blocking his view of her face. She slept with her mouth partially open, her breath stirring the blonde locks falling across the bridge of her nose, and he reached out unconsciously to push the offending hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, fingers tracing along the shell of her ear, as he studied her.

He had arrived at her apartment only moments after receiving her 911 text but he'd almost been too late. Two guys who couldn't have been much older than Thea and Roy had broken into her apartment. They'd both been wielding weapons when he'd found them and terror had gripped his chest. He'd taken them both out without his bow, calling the police as soon as they were both unconscious, but it hadn't been until he'd found Felicity barricaded in her bedroom that he'd been able to breathe again.

The soft knock on his door drew him from his assessment of her and he forced himself from the bed.

"Mom."

"Oliver, honey, I was just coming to let you know that Thea and I are heading out," she told him, pulling a leather glove onto her right hand, "Are you sure you don't want to come up to the cabin with us?"

His mother and sister were heading up to their family cabin, a place he hadn't been since his return from isolation, but he had no desire to see their former vacation home. It held too many memories for him, memories of an easier life, a life in which his father and mother hadn't been a part of Malcolm Merlyn's undertaking.

He shook his head, "I'm sure. Work has been exceptionally busy lately so it's probably best if I stay here."

She nodded her understanding and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. He felt it the moment that she realized that there was a woman lying in his bed. She pulled away, eyeing him skeptically.

"Do we need to have another talk about you brining your personal life into the house, Oliver?" she asked him.

He sighed, stepping further into the hall and shutting the door. He didn't want to wake Felicity.

"Of course not, Mom," he assured her, "Because it isn't what you think. Someone broke into her apartment last night and she needed somewhere safe to stay. That's all."

His mother continued to glare at him for a minute. He prayed that she hadn't recognized the blonde in his bed. If Moira Queen thought that her son was sleeping with his executive assistant, she would not be pleased. It wouldn't matter if he'd been helping a friend who needed a place to stay or that Felicity was much more to him than his assistant, his mother would accuse him of reverting back to his old ways.

"And there aren't a dozen guest rooms in this house that you could've settled her in?" she asked, "Miss Smoak would've been perfectly comfortable in the room just across the hall."

He blew out his breath, tipping his head to one side until the muscles in his neck popped. She was right, of course, he could've asked Raisa to make up the guest bedroom across the hall from him. He could've said goodnight, told her he was only a knock away, and called it a night. But the idea of leaving her alone hadn't even crossed his mind. He had needed Felicity close by. He had needed to be able to keep her safe at all costs.

"Mom, I promise you, it isn't what you think. Felicity… Felicity is my friend. She was my friend before I brought her up from IT to be my assistant and the only reason that I asked her to give up that job was because I needed someone that I could really trust working with me."

He wondered if the lie sounded as ridiculous to his mother's ears as it did to his. But it wasn't a lie. Felicity was his friend. When had he started thinking of her as anything more than that? He wasn't sure but he could see by expression on his mother's face that she wasn't buying his version of the truth.

"Just be careful, Oliver," she warned, "Miss Smoak seems like a very nice girl and people have probably already made assumptions about your relationship. Don't ruin her reputation just so that you can have your fun."

He stood immobilized as he watched her walk away. He wasn't deaf. He was well aware that people gossiped about him and Felicity but the fact that his mother thought that he would purposely do that to Felicity worried him. If his own mother felt that way, did Felicity?

He shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind, and stepped back into his room

It looked as if she hadn't been disturbed when he'd gotten out of bed. She was still wrapped tightly around the pillow he'd left her with and the longing that lanced through him as he stood staring at her surprised him. He wasn't blind either. Felicity was a beautiful woman, stunning really, and as many times as he'd tried not to pay attention to that fact, he was a man. He hadn't not noticed. What he hadn't noticed was how slender she really was, how small. Sure she was a good six inches shorter than him but she was small. He had this unending need to protect her, to shelter her. She wasn't a weak woman, not in the slightest. Felicity could keep up with him in totally different ways. She may not be as strong as he was physically but mentally and emotionally, she could beat him in her sleep. There were many times when he realized that he wouldn't survive without her. He would either be dead or in jail had it not been for her quick thinking and her intel. She'd saved him.

She'd saved him.

He thought of her that day on Lien Yu, the day that she and Digg had come looking for him. She'd jumped out of a plane for him. She'd traveled halfway around the world to find him. And she'd been her snarky, sarcastic self. She'd babbled and stuck her foot in her mouth and he had realized how desperately he'd been missing her. She couldn't know it because he hadn't told her, or anyone for that matter, but he'd dreamed of her more than once on his second trip to that island.

"Oliver?"

He started, realizing he'd been standing stupidly at the end of the bed watching her sleep. He climbed up the mattress, settling into the place beside her. She smiled at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She'd cried herself to sleep, the adrenaline having given way to her fear, and he'd held her close while her tears fell. He hadn't noticed then that her face was bruised, her cheek scratched from being shoved into her coffee table at some point during the attack. The bruise was ugly now, dark purple at its center near the corner of her left eye, fading outward.

"I should get you some ibuprofen," he said, reaching out to gingerly prod the offending mark, "Your face is going to hurt."

She shrugged, "Its fine. I'm fine."

"I now understand why you never believe me when I say that. You're no more convincing than I am, apparently."

She sighed, turning her face into the pillow more to hide. She inhaled deeply, nuzzling into it further. It made him smile. She smelled his pillow. Try as she might to deny it, he knew that's what she was doing. And it did something odd to him to watch her do it.

"Felicity."

She lifted her head and turned to face him fully. She was covered by the blankets on his bed but he knew what she was wearing. He'd borrowed a pair of sleep pants from Thea when he'd gotten her back to the house the night before and he'd given her one of his t-shirts. She'd blushed as she held the clothes to her chest before disappearing into his bathroom.

"Oh my god, what time is it?" she asked suddenly, her eyes widening as she realized that there was light spilling into the room from the window behind her, "I'm late! You're late!"

He shook his head, his hand shooting out to grab her arm before she could extricate herself from the bed.

"Relax, Felicity. I'm taking the day off and so are you. You need to rest."

Her shoulders sagged with relief. She lay back down, clearly exhausted, and closed her eyes again. He couldn't stop looking at her. When he'd gotten her 911 the previous night, he'd been with Laurel. They had gone to dinner. Just as friends. They would never be anything more than friends, they couldn't be, but he'd felt guilty all the same when he'd seen Felicity's text. Not for the first time, he'd been with another woman when she'd been in danger. He'd been with McKenna when Helena had tied her up in her office and he'd been with Laurel when her apartment had been broken into. He had the distinct feeling that he'd let her, like everyone else, down.

But she wasn't like everyone else. She was Felicity and letting her down made him feeling like cutting off his own arm. He wasn't sure why it was different with her, why disappointing her was like ripping his heart from his chest. He didn't know when everything had changed. He didn't know when he'd fallen in love with her but he had. He'd fallen in love with this girl who wasn't supposed to be anything more than his friend.

She was on her side again facing him, her normally expressive blue eyes were closed and he wondered what she was thinking. They hadn't talked much the night before. He'd asked her repeatedly if she was okay, if she needed anything, but all she'd said was that she was tired. He'd led her wordlessly to his bedroom, never once offering to leave her alone or let her out of his sight. She hadn't argued when he'd pulled back the covers on the bed for her. She hadn't said a word when he'd climbed into bed beside her, fully clothed. And when he'd rolled toward her with his arms open, she'd come to him willingly, burying her face in his chest just before her tears began to fall.

"You can stop staring at me, Oliver, I'll be okay."

He smiled when one blue eye opened to glower at him.

"These guys that broke into my apartment, they had nothing to do with what we're doing, with you or the vigilante," she assured him, "They were just two jerks who were set to rob me. You can't always be there to save me, Oliver."

His smile faded. He knew that the men hadn't had anything to do with the vigilante. He knew there was no connection. But that didn't mean he hadn't been afraid for her. His need to protect her didn't fade just because he wasn't wearing the hood and carrying the bow. He wondered if she even realized how much he worried about her.

Moving closer to her, close enough that the soft curves of her body were pressed against his solid frame, Oliver took her face in his hands.

"You're possibly the bravest person that I know."

She laughed, her face flushing, "Besides you, you mean?"

"It's different. We're different. I know that I have an… ability that most people don't have. I was forced to survive, Felicity. I was forced to adapt to a situation that would've left me dead otherwise. I had five years to get to this place. What you see as bravery is really determination. Determination to be someone stronger. To be a better man for my family. It isn't really bravery. But you, you're brave."

She seemed frozen as she stared back at him. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it but before he could stop himself, Oliver leaned into her and brushed his lips against hers. Her audible intake of breath was a clear indication of her surprise. He did it again, just a quick touch of his rough lips to her smooth ones, and this time her eyes drifted close. He could feel her heart beating under his thumb where it rested over her pulse point. He didn't know if it was excitement or fear or a combination of the two that had her pulse racing but it didn't matter. Once he had the taste of her on his lips, he couldn't get enough.

When he kissed her again, it wasn't simple. It wasn't tender and slow. He kissed her with desperation, months' worth of need for her that had been so tightly coiled inside of him that he felt as if his chest were going to explode. She clung to him, her fingers fisting the material of his t-shirt where it was stretched across his chest, small sounds of pleasure erupting from her throat every time he gave her the opportunity to breathe.

"Oliver," she gasped, "Wait. I – Stop."

He removed his mouth from hers without letting her go. Their foreheads touched, the ends of their noses, but he kept his mouth from hers while she caught her breath.

"I can't think while you're doing that," she muttered, "I mean, it's amazing. You're amazing. Where did you learn to kiss like that? Who kisses like that? I can't feel my toes. Or my lips for that matter. Actually, I can't really feel anything. But –"

"Felicity."

She rolled her eyes at herself, "Sorry. I didn't think the rambling could get any worse but kissing you… my brain is running a million miles a minute and I think the filter is broken."

"I'm not sure that it worked to begin with."

Her eyes were bright with humor and excitement and he was almost positive that he could see actual joy in them. Her chest rose and fell against his as she tried to regulate the air moving in and out of her lungs. He'd stolen her breath. The knowledge that she'd enjoyed kissing him made him smile.

"Seriously though, Oliver, I need to know that this has nothing to do with guilt," she went on, sliding away from him just enough that she could see his entire face rather than just his eyes, "Firstly because you have no reason to feel guilty. What happened at my apartment last night had nothing to do with you. I appreciate the fact that you came when I sent you that message because I was scared and I really don't know what those guys would've done if you hadn't shown up but they weren't after me because of you, they were just trying to take my stuff. Second… second, if this is your way of saying that you're sorry, then I don't want this. I don't want you to kiss me as a way to apologize for something that wasn't your fault in the first place. I don't want you to kiss me for any reason other than you really, really want to. I don't need to be coddled, Oliver. You already know how I feel because, God knows, I'm not exactly good at keeping my emotions in check or keeping my mouth shut but you, you wear this shield when it comes to your feelings and I haven't got a clue how you actually feel about me so the fact that you're kissing me right now has me so freaking confused."

She took a breath, ready to continue with her rambling, but he pulled her close again and kissed her, the words dying in her throat.

This kiss was different from the last one. This time he did go slow. He took his time. He showed her with the slide of his lips on hers, with the way his tongue dipped into her mouth, what he hadn't been able to say. He told her without words that he wanted her, that she was more than just his assistant or his Girl Wednesday (and yes, he knew that it really was His Girl Friday). His lips gentled as one of her hands moved from where it rested against his chest to his back, her small hand opened against his spine, holding him close to her body. He mimicked the movement, pulling her even closer. The only things really keeping him from feeling her were the bedclothes between them. Oliver mentally kicked himself for climbing into the bed on top of the covers rather than beneath them.

"It isn't misplaced guilt, Felicity," he gasped against her warm, kiss-swollen mouth, "I've wanted to do that for a long time. Longer than I'd really like to admit."

"How long?" she asked, the curiosity in her voice making him laugh.

"Probably since the first innuendo that slipped past your lips," he told her, "Maybe even before that. The fundraiser where we set up the Dodger? When I saw you in that dress and then with that damn collar around your neck… that was the first time I came close to really losing control around you."

"Oh."

Her blues eyes were open again and they were still so close that he could see every fleck in her irises.

"But you were still with McKenna then," she pointed out, "Is that why you didn't kiss me that night?"

He sighed, shrugging, "That was a part of it. But I – I've told you before. Because of this life that I lead, I don't feel like it's a good idea to be involved with someone that I truly care about. When I was with McKenna, when she got hurt, Felicity I've never felt so much fear. At least, at that point, I hadn't. But you have this tendency for getting into trouble and every time you do, a small piece of my heart cracks because I can't begin to fathom what I'd do without you. I worry about my mom and Thea. I worry about Laurel and even Sara. But I – Felicity I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. There's a reason why I asked you to come and work with me. Yes it would've looked odd, you traipsing up nineteen floors to my office or me going down to yours at least once a day because I needed your help with something. People would've speculated more than they do now. But I wanted to be able to keep you safe. I needed to know that you were within arm's reach if anything happened at Queen Consolidated. I care about you too much. Much more than I probably should. And no matter how many times I tell myself that this isn't a good idea, that I'm only going to be endangering you, I can't stay away from you."

That was close as he'd ever come to admitting that he had feelings for her. That he had really feelings. But he'd been keeping it bottled up for so long that having the opportunity to say it now was like having a weight lifted from his shoulders. He'd said those words to her in the office when they'd returned from Russia. After he'd made the mistake of falling into bed with Isabel. After he'd seen the disappointment and disgust in Felicity's eyes. He'd said those words because it was what he'd had to tell himself every time he looked at her and thought that they could be really happy together. Every time he looked at her and fell even more in love with her, he told himself that it was too dangerous. That one or both of them would wind up dead.

"There is a difference, you know."

He frowned, his head foggy with the memory of their kiss and the lingering pain he saw in her eyes as she was taken back to what happened in Russia.

"There's a difference between me and the other girls that you've had in your life, Oliver. I know you. I know your secret. And I know that Helena did, too, but let's just chalk that up to thinking with the wrong brain, okay? But Laurel and McKenna, while I know you really cared about both of them, neither of them knows the real you. They don't know about this mission that you're on. They don't know that it's you under that hood. They think this billionaire-CEO-playboy thing is who you really are and they couldn't be more wrong. The man that I know, the man that I've dreamed of for the last year, he's so much better than that. He's strong and brave and daring. He cares more about this city than anyone else that I know. And he's – you're – a good man. You're the type of man that deserves to be with someone who really loves you. Someone who loves all facets of you, Oliver, not just your face or your money. Not just a memory of who you used to be."

His heart was suddenly in his throat. He'd seen the differences, too. He wasn't stupid. He knew that his excuse for keeping her away was thin. He knew that she'd find a way around it. Felicity was the smartest person that he knew, she could see through him without having to try. But to hear her voice the truth aloud was a surreal experience. It was eye opening. She was right, of course. He'd said those words with the intention of keeping her at bay the way he'd kept Laurel at bay by doing things he knew that she wouldn't approve of. He'd pushed her away when he'd first come home by convincing her that he was the same immature, frat boy he'd been when he'd left. He couldn't do that with Felicity. Even when she couldn't claim to know the real him, even when he'd just been Oliver Queen seeking her out as a tech consultant, he knew that she saw him for more than just the billionaire with a pretty face and an interesting back story.

"Thank you," he whispered eventually.

Felicity blinked at him in surprise, "For what?"

"For seeing through the lies, for seeing the person that I've tried to hide from everyone, even you. Thank you for loving all of me, Felicity."

Her eyes widened in shock, her mouth open slightly.

"I didn't – I mean, I don't - I didn't say that I love you, Oliver. I mean, I do, I – I love you because well, you're you but I didn't mean to-"

He tugged her infinitesimally closer, pressing a hard, fast kiss to her still tender lips.

"Felicity, stop talking," he demanded, "I know. It's okay. I – I think I love you, too."

She gasped, shocked by his quiet admission, but when he kissed her again, she didn't question it. He did love her. He loved her for her ridiculous rambling, for her normally inappropriate innuendo. He loved the way that she watched him do pull ups on the salmon ladder when she thought he didn't notice. He loved when she touched every part of him while checking over his injuries. There was nothing about the beautiful woman in his arms that he didn't love. It may not be perfect, the life that they would have, but it would be theirs and as long as he had her at his side, he knew that it could only get better.

A/N2: Okay, I'm sure there are some people out there who may not think it's appropriate for them to be saying the "L" word at this stage but here's my take on it. There are different stages of loving someone and it's obvious that they do love each other in some way. In may not be that all-consuming, this-is-it, kind of love just yet but there is definitely some kind of love between the two of them so yes, they say the "L" word because I just feel like, in the situation that these two are in, it's better to say it too early rather than it being too late. Hope you liked this one! Thanks for reading!