Author's Note:

I thought I'd update for you all and perhaps receive fresh inspiration for prompts! I love you all and thanks for your support, you have no idea how wonderful it is to know that someone loves the way you write. This one shot focuses mainly on the emotional hurt of "I love you, but there's no way you love me back". As always stay happy and enjoy Chapter Three!

Chapter Three

Being in love with Oliver Queen was like being in love with a bruise. It hurts for a while and it's stormy and dark with unrequited emotions, then it lightens up and it hurts only when you poke it the wrong way, only it's too much fun to poke it, so the only person who still feels anything is you. Felicity was in love with Oliver Queen and she was positive her analogy of bruises was spot on. She was sitting in her office, staring at Oliver through the glass, and chewing on her favorite mechanical pencil. It was a bad habit, she knew, but a nervous habit does not make it a bad one and she reminded her coworkers of it everyday. It was dark, with the only light coming from the chilling blue glow from her computer and the warm orange of her desk lamp (Felicity didn't want the lamp and insisted to Diggle that she wore glasses already so it didn't matter if it was bad for her eyes but two gentle threats later it was plopped on her desk). The city lights shown beneath like the wiring in a giant motherboard and the lonely honking of the cars underneath echoed back. Oliver leaned his head against one of his large calloused hands. Felicity knew they were calloused because they would brush against her arm or rest on her shoulder when he leaned down to see her technological magic in action. Felicity swallowed slowly and put her pencil down on her keyboard.

He looked exhausted, and the shadows in the office licked at his face and darkened his already smoky face. Felicity always called his face smoky, she didn't like calling it a shadow because his personality wasn't as dark as people assumed, and it certainly wasn't clean shaven because those bristles would scratch her palms when she forced him to look her in the eye. Smoky suited him best, dark enough that it was visible to the naked, or in her case, glasses bearing eye but still clear enough that you could see right through it. It had been a long night for both of them, although The Hood had nothing to do, Oliver had to attend business conference after business conference and schmooze up to every last tycoon willing to invest. Felicity endured whispers around the office of "there goes Mr. Queen's personal assistant" and "I bet e-mails aren't the only things she opens". The usual jealous coworker crap, but it killed her steadily on the inside because everything she did she did for herself. Felicity was far too proud to accept the assistance of others. She rose from her wheeled office chair and shut off her computer with a practiced flick of her wrist. Taking a deep breath she strode to Oliver's desk and listened to the determined clack of her magenta heels. He lifted his head tiredly and inhaled as though he just woke up from a doze, it honestly wouldn't surprise her if he had.

"Hey" he mumbled. His voice seemed rougher in the dark, and Felicity took great care in cataloging that one in her mental file of "Things Oliver does that are Attractive" (it was already crammed full and close to bursting)

"Hey yourself boss" she teased.

"What time is it Felicity?" Felicity strongly resisted the urge to say "time for you to get a watch" and instead grabbed his suit jacket from the adjoining chair and whispered eleven o-clock. He sighed and rose from his chair unsteadily. Felicity offered his jacket and he muttered a "thank you". Felicity was making her way back to her desk to grab her purse when Oliver spoke up again.

"Do you need a ride home, Felicity?" she stopped herself and turned to face him. Honestly, how much more stuff can she cram in that file.

"No thank you, Oliver. Unless those idiots in the office hijacked my car, I should be fine." She smiled softly and gently rapped on the hard wood of her desk. Oliver raised his eyebrow in confusion from her gesture. "Oh it's a stupid superstition. Um, the phrase 'knock on wood' ring any bells?" He shook his head slowly and smirked.

"Sorry Felicity, you just didn't strike me as the superstitious type. Good night then." He walked towards the door and held it open for her. (Come on file you can fit one more, right?) She clacked through, keys jingling softly in her hand, and graciously smiled at him. Felicity couldn't remember the last time she loved a bruise as much as Oliver Queen.

Author's Notes

Thank you for reading and I'll update as soon as I can. Let me know if you want me to expand on their chemistry in something other than injury one-shots. Review please!