It had been a week since they took down Damien Darhk - fine, so they ran him out of town, but at least he was someone else's problem now. Oliver felt that he had enough to deal with, considering the assholes who attacked his city on a regular basis. Case in point, while he'd been patrolling with Thea earlier that evening, he'd been conscious of their being followed. He hadn't mentioned anything to his sister, not wanting to worry her. Though the tiny voice in his head which was Felicity at her most perceptive pointed out that he was probably just saving it for a brotherly lecture about being aware of one's surroundings at all times. He wasn't going to deny it. Perks of being an older brother.

He had a pretty good idea who it was, though. Especially after they split up, and whoever it was kept following Thea to the loft. Oliver landed on the roof, and Malcolm Merlyn turned to face him, taking off his hood and cowl with a dramatic gesture.

"What can I do for you, Oliver?"

"You can stop following us around, for one thing," Oliver answered, unable to keep the exasperated tone out of his voice. "We're probably the only two people who don't want to kill you, right now."

Malcolm looked hurt. "What, even after the part I played in taking down Damien Darhk?"

Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Showing us how to get into your old office building wasn't rocket science. A custodian could have done it."

Malcolm smirked. Oliver swore. How did this guy always manage to get a reaction from him?

"I heard the Triads and the Bratva are your best friends now. Not very appropriate for the protector of Starling City, I would have thought."

Oliver rolled his eyes. Merlyn was probably pissed off he hadn't become the new R'as al Ghul, even though he'd denied wanting the title when Oliver had challenged him about it. He didn't know how things were between Merlyn and Nyssa, and he didn't care. His new resolution was to keep out of League politics, and if Merlyn wanted to stay alive, he'd do the same.

"I don't need to justify myself to you, Merlyn."

It was enough for him that the crime syndicates wouldn't tear the city apart between them. Neither Anatoly nor Chien Na Wei were going to get any concessions from him, even in light of their so called favours. He didn't consider them particularly impressive. You don't get extra credit for stopping human trafficking, Oliver thought. That just made you a human being, rather than a monster.

"Who are you talking to?"

His earbud came to life with a crackle, and he almost jumped. Felicity sounded pissed.

"Is that Malcolm Merlyn?"

He almost nodded, then answered with a simple yes. Malcolm grinned wider.

"Please give my regards to Ms Smoak."

Oliver sighed. Luckily, Felicity interrupted anything he was going to say to Malcolm, and he took the opportunity to make a dramatic exit of his own.

"Oliver, I have an address for you – then you're done. Everyone else went home already."

She gave him an address in the suburbs that SCPD had been watching for a while, according to her. He was a bit puzzled though. The suburbs, not exactly a hotbed of criminality. He was about to make a quip about criminal baking, or murderous soccer moms, but restrained himself. Felicity had been looking at him with barely restrained impatience for the past week now, and he knew he was expected to make a move, but he wasn't sure how, anymore. What was he supposed to say? Invitations to dinner had resulted in disaster in the past, and he could hardly say 'let's fuck', could he?

"Oliver! Are you still there? Did you get that address?"

He winced.

"Doesn't seem like a center for crime."

"Are you doubting my intel? And yes, I just said 'intel'. Deal with it."

He smiled. God, he loved her.

"No, no," he hurriedly reassured her. "Do I have to disable the security system?"

"Nope. I have the code. I mean, I, er, hacked into the network."

That was strange. Usually she'd ramble about triple DES and RC4 encryption systems until his head swam. That was almost curt, for Felicity.

"I'll get on to it, Felicity. Is there somewhere I can put the bike? Not a lot of high rooftops there."

"Oh, there's plenty of parking in the area . . . I saw it. On the traffic cams?"

Felicity was starting to sound weird. But he wasn't going to doubt her again – this was her area. He signed off and walked towards the Ducati. He was just getting on, when an alarm sounded – dammit, it was a small bank branch nearby. It was a matter of minutes to get there, subdue the robbers, tie them up, and avoid the police, who were already on their way, and who obviously tried to arrest him. It took him an hour to lose them and he had plenty of time to muse about what Felicity called his counseling session with Lance. He'd raised an eyebrow at that, at first. But it was true, unburdening himself to Lance had helped a lot. And maybe he could continue working at it. What harm would it do to check out Carrie Cutter's psychologist? Maybe she'd meant what she'd said – she'd certainly been right about him.

Oliver finally lost the cops on the edge of the industrial district, and was tempted to call Felicity and tell her he'd get to the suspicious suburbanites another day, but if she was asleep, he'd be waking her up. And he'd promised her he'd see to it. He stretched, feeling the joints in his back popping. He needed a good workout. Almost immediately, he had a flash of Felicity with her legs wrapped around his waist, and gritted his teeth. Not that kind of workout, he told his brain. He headed towards the suburbs. The sooner he did this, the sooner he got home, got some sleep.

It was a mid-sized apartment block, with a small parking lot attached. Oliver didn't see anything suspicious – he couldn't see anyone awake, for that matter. He wheeled the bike into the parking lot, in a shadowy corner, and got out his tarp, covering it quickly. The main door was opened by buzzer in the apartments – it was a simple matter to bypass the circuit, open it, and shut it again behind him. Once he reached the apartment, he was going to use his universal key, when he realised the door wasn't locked. This was getting stranger by the minute. Was it a trap? The alarm started flashing, and he entered the code hurriedly, locking the door behind him.

The apartment was almost dull in its normality – there was no meth-manufacturing equipment littered around, no bags of cocaine or heroin stacked on every possible surface. There was a lot of tech lying about, though. There were disassembled computer parts, a tablet with a cracked screen, circuit boards, a soldering iron . . . Maybe it was some kind of cybercrime happening here.

A sound from a nearby room made him nock an arrow – he'd been wrong when he thought the entire apartment was dark and silent. He lowered the arrow when he realised that what he'd heard was a movie. The dialogue was clear for a few seconds.

. . . Mr. Frodo . . . I can't carry it for you! But I can carry you!

Then a cheerful voice came out of the bedroom.

"If that's not the Arrow, I have a gun!"

"Felicity?"

Oliver walked into the room, feeling like he was in a dream. She was sitting on her bed, bathed in light, looking more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. Her hair was down, and she was only wearing some kind of silky nightdress which barely reached her thighs. He wondered what that colour was called – burgundy, his mind helpfully supplied, while the rest of him felt like he was on fire. She leaned back, and stretched out her legs in a pose which was meant to arouse (and it did, his mind gibbered, it really did). She batted her eyelashes at him and that broke the spell – he couldn't hold back a laugh, and she smiled in relief.

"Oh thank god, I thought you were going to blow a fuse."

"Felicity," he said, while trying to say something that wasn't just her name, repeated. "I don't understand . . . "

"Why don't you lose all the weaponry, Oliver? I'll explain everything."

He'd started taking all his flechettes off before she even finished speaking – next went his quiver, and the bow had already been tossed to the side. He sat down and took his boots off – he had knives hidden in both of them. Then he sat, undecided. Should he put them on again? Was he being presumptuous? He heard a giggle behind him and she draped herself over his back, pulling his hood down and his mask off. She kissed his neck and slid her hands around to unzip his jacket.

"Maybe you don't need an explanation, huh?"

He turned around and she was kneeling up on the bed. He kissed her, taking the jacket off and throwing it in the corner at the same time. He slid his hands up under her nightdress, when he suddenly realised he still had the gloves on, and took them off impatiently, then he hesitated and pulled back. She looked flushed, her lips swollen with kisses, her chest heaving. He suddenly couldn't resist and pulled down one of the straps – he latched onto one perfect rosy-tipped breast and she cried out as he gently licked and nipped at her. She pulled down the other strap and he could bury his face in her breasts licking and nibbling until her nipples were hard and she was whimpering happily.

"Frat boy," she said above his head, laughing. "It's all about the boobs with you!"

"Not all about the boobs," he said, marvelling that he could still form sentences.

"Oh?" she said smiling, then "oh!" again, as he kissed his way down her belly, before lifting her easily further up the bed, so he could make himself comfortable between her thighs. He kissed her inner thighs happily, and went unerringly for her pussy, parting her folds with his tongue, licking over her clit. She cried out, louder, and grabbed onto his head. He delved into her with his tongue, alternating between lapping at her clit and sucking on it. Her cries were wilder and her thighs were shaking, and he couldn't resist helping with his fingers a little, getting them nice and wet, and then sliding into her as he tapped her clit with his tongue. He'd always been good at this, he thought smugly, as she shook and came, her thighs pressing against his ears as she quaked. He had to press down hard on his cock to stop from coming himself, and wondered why he hadn't taken off his pants yet.

"Why are your pants still on?" Felicity complained, and he had to laugh. He smiled at her, wiping his mouth, and she blushed.

"I was distracted," he said, grinning. She sat up, still flushed and dazed, but managed to pull her nightdress off over her head, and he was transfixed by her boobs again. She giggled and pulled on his waistband, opening and unzipping his pants and pushing them down to his thighs. He was rock hard, and he didn't miss her eyes widening slightly as she took him in. He'd always been slightly smug that he was, well, hung. And she hadn't minded in Nanda Parbat, he thought, but they hadn't really looked at each other then. But she'd seemed a bit apprehensive in the bathroom, he remembered.

"Hey."

She looked at him, nervously.

"We can do . . . other things. If you're not sure."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm plenty sure, Oliver. Plenty. Now get those pants off." His cock twitched, and she couldn't hold back a giggle. "Hmm. You like it when I order you around."

His lips twitched in a smile. She was right. He really did. He pulled his pants and underwear off impatiently, and knelt in front of her on the bed. Now he was the nervous one.

"I don't want to hurt you."

She rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand, pulling it between her legs. She was so wet, his cock jumped this time.

"You're not going to hurt me, Oliver. I want you, badly."

She slid his fingers into her until they were soaked with her, and he was shaking. She lowered herself on her back, and pulled him down, spreading and lifting her legs so that they curled around his ass. He just had a second to wonder if she should be on top before she grabbed his cock and guided it in her, and his instinct took over and he slid deep into her, not stopping until he was all the way in. He rested on his elbows and gritted his teeth, trying to stop from coming.

"Hey."

She was smiling at him, and he couldn't help smiling back.

"I love you," he whispered, and he kissed her, nuzzling her neck.

"And I love you," she answered. He started moving inside her, slowly and then speeding up as her cries grew louder, nonsense with his name in it, she begged him to go harder, faster and he did, raising her leg over his shoulder so he could go deeper, hitting her clit with every stroke. He could feel her hands on his back, as she shook and came again, her inner muscles working on his cock as he desperately tried to hold off. She came down, shuddering, and her eyes widened as she realised he was still hard inside her. He lifted her off her back with one arm and rose up on his knees, staying inside her the whole time, until she was in his lap, her knees bracketing his hips.

"Oliver," she moaned, dazed, as he put her arms round his neck.

"Hold on to me tight," he answered, and she squeaked as he started moving her slowly on his cock until she continued the rhythm herself, riding him, her head falling back as her whole body flushed with pleasure. She came again, and he couldn't hold back either as the tension spiked in his balls and he came, groaning her name. She rested on his chest, breathing heavily, and he collapsed backwards, pulling her with him. She smirked at him.

"Hold on to me tight, huh," she said, raising an eyebrow. He lifted his head and smiled. She punched him, playfully.

"You made me feel like it was an unrequited crush, you jerk."

He caught her fist and kissed it, opening up her hand, and kissing the palm, and fingers, one by one. He'd been so messed up that first year back, he didn't know what he'd been thinking. He remembered occasions when it suddenly occurred to him that Felicity was becoming more than a friend, and also remembered relentlessly squashing those thoughts.

"Do you remember when Helena came after you?" he said, and she looked at him, puzzled.

"I don't think I'll ever forget, Oliver," she said. "It's one of those memories that stays with you."

"I wanted to kill her. I tried to kill her."

It was suddenly important to him that she understood him, and he sat up suddenly, pulling her with him. He looked deep into her eyes.

"I don't mean I threatened her, or I said something like 'next time, you're dead'. I mean I aimed an arrow at her and shot it. I didn't know she'd been training to catch arrows for a while. It's the one time I regretted not using a gun."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"She hurt you, Felicity."

Felicity smiled, her eyes a bit shiny, and stroked his face.

"That early, huh?"

He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him.

"I tried to fight it for so long. I don't deserve you – ow," he yelped, as she pinched his side. "Didn't deserve you, I mean, didn't," he said hurriedly, as she glared at him.

"That's right, I'm a pincher! Anytime you say something stupid like that, beware!" She put up her thumb and forefinger in a pincer movement and he laughed, moving forward, pretending to bite them, and going in for a nibble.

"Oh, I know you're a biter, Oliver. Look what you've done to my poor boobs."

"Oh, I'm looking," he said, as he gently kissed all the little red marks he'd left all over her breasts. He couldn't resist licking her nipple and watching it stiffen again, and he loved hearing her gasp above his head. She pushed him down, playfully, and he pretended to collapse on the bed, exhausted.

"So, how long have you been planning this?" he asked. He was also curious as to when she'd moved here, but then he answered his own question, and was glad he hadn't asked that one.

"Ever since I thought you might start avoiding me again," she said, and he smiled ruefully.

"Though I thought that hot sex in the bathroom would have solved part of that problem."

"Yeah. About that," he said. "We never really talked about it."

They were lying side by side, and he was playing with her hair, and occasionally stroking her thighs. He just couldn't keep his hands off her.

"What's to talk about, Oliver? We both needed it."

"Both?"

She looked at him, worried. He continued.

"When I was thinking about it, on the plane, I mean . . . I thought it was, you know . . . like a hearty meal for the condemned man, or something like that."

"Oliver!"

She sounded shocked.

"I wanted it too – we needed to have something, both of us." She thought a bit, then seemed to come to a decision.

"The time in Nanda Parbat was wonderful – romantic, and beautiful, you know? But then . . . "

Her eyes glistened, and he knew what she was thinking about. "He took that from us," she said, controlling herself. "I wanted us to have something that was ours." Her tone turned wicked. "And I thought if I banged your brains out you wouldn't notice that I was planning to come along."

She smirked at him and kissed him, simultaneously pulling his hips against hers. He moaned into her mouth and grabbed her ass, hard again, and she pulled away, giving him one last small kiss, and pushing him on his back. She kissed her way down his chest, and when she reached his cock, gave him a wicked look before licking her way up the shaft and teasing the crown with her tongue. He moaned, helplessly. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him a blowjob, but he didn't want her to feel obligated.

"Felicity . . . you don't have to . . ."

She pulled off his cock, her mouth glistening, and he groaned, his head falling back.

"Oh, but I want to. Maybe you can consider it a late birthday present. "

The way she stressed the last phrase burst through his sex-fogged brain. That had sounded sharper than usual. And she was holding his cock. Though she'd let go, and was looking at him accusingly now.

"I haven't celebrated my birthday in –"

"Eight years! I know, Oliver. I can't believe I had to look it up on the internet."

Oliver winced.

"You could have asked Thea . . . or Laurel?" he said, with some hesitation. Felicity rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Sure. Your sister, who didn't even know we were together, at first. Or your ex. Whatever." She waved her hands around in a 'change of subject' gesture. "That's not important, really, unlike this birthday. Old man." She giggled at his outraged look.

He lunged at her, ready to tickle her into submission, and she shrieked, trying to get away. A few deep kisses later, they came up for air.

"Thirty isn't old," he said, trying for a huffy tone.

"Of course not, Oliver."

She looked at him, wide-eyed, but there was a wicked twinkle in her eyes. She climbed into his lap, and squirmed a bit, making herself comfortable, then whispered in his ear.

"Do you think you can manage a second time? I wouldn't want to tire you out."

"Ok, that's it. It's tickling time," he said sternly.

"Wouldn't you rather get that birthday present you missed out on this year?"

She kept eye-contact as she lowered her head into his lap, and licked her way up his cock again, and it stiffened with almost comical speed. He groaned and leaned back on his hands, watching her as she teased the crown with her tongue, and then gentle nibbles of her lips. She stopped teasing, and started sucking for real, her head bobbing up and down in his lap, and he wanted so badly to tangle his hands in her hair, but was unsure if she liked that. Almost as if she'd read his thoughts she looked up at him, smiling cheekily.

"You can grab my hair if you like."

His cock twitched and drooled, and she slid her lips back over it, swallowing a little. His hand fell on her head and he watched the blond strands slipping through his fingers as her head rose and fell in his lap, as he felt himself fall towards orgasm. He wanted to warn her, to stop her, but all he could do was cry out and shudder as he came in her mouth. She lifted her head, looking very pleased with herself, and he pulled her up for a deep kiss, tasting himself in her mouth. She was laughing as they kissed, and when he pulled away, she was still smiling. He looked at her, questioning.

"I was just thinking. We could have been doing this, for so long, Oliver! What were we thinking?"

"I don't think I was thinking at all, Felicity."

She shook her head, trying to indicate that it hadn't just been his fault, even though it clearly was. But her eyes were already closing, and she pulled him down next to her. He lay on his back, and she cuddled up to him, her head on his chest. He played with her hair as he dropped off.

The sound of falling water woke him up. For a second he thought he was on the island again. The rains had started and he was in for some time of being cold and wet. Or not, he thought, as he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar bedroom. As he looked around and saw his weapons and his clothes scattered around, he remembered the previous night. He realised that the water was a shower. And the sound of singing came from the shower too. He wasn't sure he'd heard the lyric right, though.

"Bitch better have my money?"

"All hail Queen Rihanna," Felicity said happily, coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her. He tried to reach for her, and she danced away.

"Shower first, Oliver. And brush your teeth. The blue toothbrush is yours. I, um, bought it. For you."

She looked at him, worried that she was jumping the gun, moving too fast. He just smiled.

"Thank you." He tried to grab her again, and she squeaked and dodged his hands.

"I'll get breakfast ready!"

She'd done more than buy him a toothbrush – she had his favourite brands of shampoo and shower gel in the bathroom too. As well as shaving foam and razors. His mouth twitched in a smile. Felicity thought of everything. Once he'd finished, he found a towel laid out for him, and wrapped it around his waist, wandering out to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. As soon as he rounded the corner a bagel sailed towards him and he caught it out of the air. Felicity was leaning over the table, spreading cream cheese on another bagel, and he immediately lost interest in food. The towel was slipping and she kept trying to pull it up – at the top of one breast she'd managed to spread cream cheese on herself. He swallowed.

"You've got some cream cheese on you," he said. He swallowed again, and she looked at him, eyes wicked.

"Oh?"

Felicity turned towards him, slowly, opening the towel.

"Why don't you help me with that," she murmured, and he didn't need to be told twice, as he licked the smear away, and continued to her nipple, licking and sucking until it was pebbled. He turned to the other, and she gasped. She pulled away his towel, and grasped his cock firmly, jerking him a few times. He pulled back, and she spread her legs for him, and he slid in, marvelling how wet she was, how ready. He lifted her onto the table, and she wrapped her legs round his ass, and they moved together, slowly this time. He stroked her breasts and she kissed his chest and his neck, gasping as he bottomed out inside her. When she came, it was like a wave of pleasure transformed her face, lit it up from within. He followed her, feeling like he was coming home. They leaned against each other, and he stroked her back, wishing he would just stay like this.

She was looking over his shoulder at the kitchen clock, though, and she pulled back.

"We have to get dressed, Oliver – we'll be late. Not that there's anything to be late for, really. We're just going for a walk downtown, and will spontaneously do . . . stuff. This is not, and I stress not, a date."

Oliver looked at her quizzically. He looked at the clock – it was about one in the afternoon, and he could hardly believe it. It had been ages since he'd slept so long. She noticed his puzzlement and continued.

"We kind of have bad luck with dates, Oliver. So if nothing's really planned, we can outrun bad luck. Or bad guys. Whatever," she said impatiently. "Come on, get dressed."

"All I have here is the Arrow suit, Felicity. And this towel," he said, raising an eyebrow.

She snuck a look at him and smiled.

"That would be a great look! But actually . . ."

She pulled him back to her bedroom and opened one of her drawers, and he could hardly believe it. There were a couple of shirts and sweaters, jeans, even socks and underwear. He had to look away and blink a couple of times, and when he could finally face Felicity, he noticed her eyes were shiny too.

"Thea helped – and she said you wouldn't notice your clothes vanishing suddenly. And she was right," Felicity said as she rolled her eyes. "Men."

Oliver was still looking at his clothes.

"So, Thea was in on the plan?"

"Not all the plan – just the parts which involved her brother getting his head out of his ass." She raised her eyebrows, waiting for a rebuttal, but fair's fair, Oliver thought. He wasn't going to argue with the truth.

An hour later, they were strolling along the theater district. Oliver was sure Felicity had something planned, no matter what she said. They'd found some amazing food carts on the way, and had gone with Lebanese Asian fusion for lunch. And then Felicity had surreptitiously looked at her watch and dragged him towards one of the oldest movie theaters in the city. He had to laugh when he looked at the marquee, which trumpeted 'Starling City Shakespeare Movie Festival' to the world. Felicity smiled at him, and pulled him inside.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you sit through Hamlet. It's depressing, and Branagh's version is four hours long! No, we just have to choose between war and blood in France, or food and sex in Italy . . ."

They exchanged looks, and Oliver could already see that they were of one mind – they'd had enough war and blood to last several lifetimes. Felicity raced off to buy tickets, though not before Oliver wondered out loud how come she hadn't bought them online already.

"Spontaneity, Oliver! Spontaneity is key!"

He looked at the poster while he waited. Much Ado About Nothing? What did that even mean? And wait, Keanu Reeves was in this movie? Felicity was back from the ticket office and smirked when she saw him reading the cast list.

"I see doubt in your eyes, young padawan. All will be revealed in due time."

"What does the title mean, though?" he asked, as they sat down. "It's about nothing?"

Felicity shrugged.

"It's pretty ambiguous," she said. "Though, if it makes you feel better, 'nothing' is Elizabethan slang for pussay!"

She whispered the last word in his ear, and he felt the tips of his ears getting red. She giggled, always happy to make him blush. The house lights dimmed, and the screen went black. When the words started appearing on the screen, Oliver was intrigued. And then, when he turned to Felicity to ask her what 'hey nonny nonny' meant anyway, he was entranced. She was mouthing along with the words, her face glowing, and he smiled, turning back to the screen, which had changed to a beautiful Italian countryside gathering, bathed in warm light.

"Isn't that lovely?" Felicity asked, and she turned to find him looking at her again.

"Yes," he answered, and this time it was her turn to blush. She put her head on his shoulder, and he settled back to watch the movie, which was turning out to be not at all what he'd pictured when thinking Shakespeare. There was a strange feeling inside him, one which he hadn't felt in so long. It came to him like a wave crashing over him, this feeling of joy. As Felicity settled into his side, as he thought of his friends and family, safe and sound, even if just for that afternoon, he let himself drift into this rare emotion, this feeling of happiness.