⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She's crazy.

No, seriously, she's absolutely, fucking crazy.

How else would you explain her behavior?

Here she is on a date with Oliver Queen. Scratch that, she's on a perfect date with Oliver Queen and everything is going great, and what does she do? Instead of just following her heart, her brain kicks in and almost ruins everything.

Goddamnit, brain, can't you just take a chill pill for once in your life?

Oliver had been talking about their second date and she just had to go and question their entire relationship. All five seconds of it.

Stupid brain, coming up with all kinds of scenarios for how a romantic relationship between them could fail.

In her defense, she does kind of have a point, though. She didn't even realize how true the words were until they left her mouth: she really doesn't have a lot of experience with dating and the only real experience she does have is with Cooper. So not exactly the shining example of what a relationship should look like.

And on the other side is Oliver who's dated countless beautiful supermodels and actresses, and who looks like a freaking Adonis that will melt any woman's panties off with a wink. How the hell is that supposed to work out?

She caught herself just in time, or maybe Oliver had caught her with his reassurances.

She said she didn't want to be a fling, a way to pass his time here in Starling, and maybe the notion of only being willing to commit to a long-term relationship is naïve on her part, but she just doesn't know any better, does she? It's not like anything you see on TV or read in books about these types of relationships is actually realistic, or is it?

"You're thinking really loudly," the man of her dreams and current thoughts mumbles softly into her ear, "And judging by that little crease on your forehead, I'd say that you still have doubts."

"Sorry," she whispers sheepishly. "I can't seem to turn it off."

He runs his thumb over her cheek and she has to summon all her willpower not to melt under his touch. "I wish I could take away all your doubts."

"Tell me about our second date."

"Okay," he says after a few seconds of scrutinizing her sudden one-eighty. "Let's see. Do you want to do something out in public or keep it private?"

"I don't think I wanna add the pressure of other people and paparazzi, so how about we keep this a little more private?"

"Hmm… in that case, how's your stamina?"

"Uhhhh…" Where is he going with this? What kind of a date is he thinking of that she'll need stamina for? Physical… activities? "Pretty good, I guess? I've been slacking off a bit with my workouts, but I'm in decent shape. Why do you ask?"

He smiles down at her, raising his eyebrow just a tiny bit as if he knows where her dirty mind is going, but wisely chooses not to tease her about it. "Well, I own a cabin in the Archerton National Forest. We could drive out there for a hike next week."

Oh.

A cabin… don't those usually have beds?

She swallows down most of her nervousness before answering, "So we would stay at your cabin?"

"We can stay overnight if you want to, but since it's just a two hour drive I was thinking we'd just head out there on a daytrip and use the cabin as a starting point and to park the car. We can pack a nice lunch and have a picnic at one of the small lakes. If we head out there during the week it should be mostly empty. No prying eyes, no paparazzi."

"That sounds like a perfect getaway," she sighs and reconsiders playfully, "or the perfect spot to murder someone."

He chuckles, "I can assure you that I have no plans whatsoever to kill you."

"Pretty sure that's what a killer would say."

"Remind me, why are we talking about my nonexistent murderous potential?"

She huffs, stabbing at his really hard chest with her index finger. "Because you, mister, are too perfect. It's suspicious."

"We both know I'm not perfect," he argues, losing some of his playfulness and a cloud settles over his eyes for a split second before they light up again with fondness. "But I'm trying to be for you."

"See," she exclaims, throwing her hands up helplessly, "You can't just go and say stuff like that." And not expect my ovaries to explode. "Normal guys don't do that."

"Too much?" he grins, looking not even a little bit sorry.

"Well, if your goal is to give me a cavity from all of your sweetness, you're definitely succeeding."

"I think the copious amounts of ice cream you consume on a daily basis are to blame for that one, actually."

She gasps loudly, swatting at his chest. "I reject the insinuation of that statement," she huffs, taking a step back.

"Oh, really?" he challenges, letting her leave his embrace without a fight. "How many pints do you eat per week?"

"One." A pointed, disbelieving look hits her. "Fine, two." Sometimes three. She has a stressful job, okay?!

"Uh-huh."

"Smart ass," Felicity grumbles, knowing that she lost the argument. "Maybe I should end this date with my two good buddies Ben and Jerry."

"I'm sure Mario would be heartbroken if he knew you're cheating on his homemade gelato with store-bought stuff," he argues, sticking his bottom lip out in an adorable little pout that she has no chance whatsoever to not succumb to. "Plus, I'd be a little heartbroken if our date got cut short."

"Only a little bit?" she asks with an arched eyebrow, wondering if she's pushing her luck with the teasing.

"Actually, a big bit," he corrects his statement, keeping his pout in place for good measure. "I was really looking forward to having dessert with you after this amazing date, but if your love with Ben and Jerry is too strong I won't try to get in between what is meant to be."

What a drama queen. Pun intended. But god, is it fun to banter like this.

"Well, I mean, if you help me clean up this place real quick, I could be convinced to let you join me for dessert. Just the two of us. No Ben and Jerry."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" he asks with his arms spread wide, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and something that makes his eyes a delicious shade darker than usual. "Let's clean this place up. Chop, chop."

"Someone's eager," she muses, following him to their table where he's already collecting their plates and silverware.

"What can I say? I love dessert." There's that mysterious glint in his eyes again that makes her think she needs to decide rather soon if she has any rules for kissing someone on the first date. "Especially when it's with you." Yup, she has to decide very, very soon.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

"Hey, by the way, what did you need Arcus for earlier?" he asks around a mouthful of ice cream, wisely not commenting on the fact that he'd gotten a much smaller serving than her.

They're seated on her couch, each with a bowl of unequal amounts of Mario's delicious treat, sitting close enough that their shoulders are touching the whole time.

"I wanted to say thank you." She shrugs. "It's something I would've done anyway, but my therapist actually suggested it this morning as well."

"You already talked to your therapist?"

"And had coffee with Iris and Cait. Had a really productive day, I guess."

"I'd say," he chuckles. "So how did you thank my dog?"

"We started off with a nice cuddle session before I took him to Mario's to grab our food. And we might've stopped at a couple of stores on the way to pick up a new dog bed, some toys and a whole bunch of treats."

"Now I'm jealous," he deadpans, but smiles at her softly. "You're spoiling my dog rotten."

"Because he's the best and deserves it," she points out, finishing off her bowl. Would it look weird if she went for round two?

"Can't argue with that," Oliver agrees, putting his empty bowl on the table next to hers. "I'm sure he was more than happy to spend time with you. I barely got him to leave your apartment last night."

Last night… when Cooper had forced his way back into her life once again. As if he hasn't done enough damage already.

How has it only been 24 hours? It feels like it happened a lifetime ago.

Obviously, she hadn't told her therapist the whole story. Mainly, because she didn't know how to explain why Cooper ended up being incarcerated by a secret government agency that she herself only knows about because she'd been bored one day in class and gone on a hacking spree of epic proportions. Paul is obviously bound by a very strict NDA, but still, there are things that she just doesn't want to get into with him.

Despite the hidden truths, her talk with Paul had been exactly how it should've been and what she paid good money for: therapeutic. It had helped her to decide how to keep moving forward after essentially closing the chapter of her life that had the constant threat and fear of Cooper in it.

One part of moving forward included telling her closest friends about what had happened, so that the repetitious action of talking about the events of last night could help her brain process the finality of the situation and help her make peace with it.

She would've told them anyway, since they'd seen her through the most horrific time of her life with a kind and steady patience and they deserved to know that Cooper got what he deserved and that it was all finally over. Plus, she really needed to thank Cait for alarming Diggle.

Who knows what could've happened if her friend hadn't tried to reach her last night. What better way to say 'thank you for your unwavering support and probably saving my life' than extra-large caramel lattes and blueberry scones at their favorite bakery?

And with her best friends she had felt a little more comfortable to talk about her future with Oliver. Paul is great and all, but she's never liked to talk to him about her love life. Her two besties, on the other hand, were all for talking about where her relationship with Oliver is going.

Okay, so technically, all three of them had told her to not rush herself and take a week or two to find a new normal in her everyday life without the lingering fear of facing her past, before she moved her friendship with Oliver to a romantic relationship. Ooops.

In her defense, she's pretty sure that neither of them would've been able to resist the temptation of asking him out either when faced with an almost naked Oliver with droplets of water running down his sculpted chest and rock hard abs. She certainly never stood a chance.

"Speaking of Arcus, I should probably get going," Oliver sighs. "If you fed him as many treats as I suspect you did, I'll have to go for another quick walk with him and it's getting pretty late."

"Oh. Okay." She can't quite hide her disappointment at his sudden notion to leave.

"That doesn't mean that I want to go." Of course he picked up on her disappointment. He grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look a little… tired."

Huh, that's something you really don't wanna hear when you're on a date…

"Wow, Queen, did you leave all that charm of yours on the roof?" she deadpans.

"Still incredibly beautiful," he clarifies, tugging on her fingers, "but I know that you had a hell of a night and I don't want to push you tonight."

Damn, his charming smile is back.

"You're not pushing me and I'm not tired," she argues determinedly, which quickly turns into a fail of epic proportions when she can't suppress a long yawn.

"You were saying?"

Smug bastard. But good god, does he look sexy with his knowing smile and arched eyebrow.

"Fine," she grumbles, reluctantly following him as he gets up, making no move to let go of his hand anytime soon.

He swivels around when they reach her front door, keeping a foot of space between them that leaves her with a feeling of emptiness after being so close to him for the better part of the last hour.

"Tonight was amazing," Oliver tells her, his voice a little more breathless than before. Is he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

Oh.

Oh.

They're about to end their very good first date. But how? A hug? Maybe even a kiss? Yes! To both of them, but definitely the kiss!

She searches his eyes, trying to gauge the situation and see if they're on the same page. And crap, he doesn't look quite as convinced as she feels. No, he looks nervous and wary, like he doesn't know what to do.

And yeah, okay, she gets why he's cautious. Just the night before they were held captive by her crazy ex, and now here she is ready to kiss him senseless. In this very apartment they're standing in right now, no less. Even she doesn't understand how she can be so okay with the whole ordeal. After all, the last time she was faced with Cooper before last night it sent her into a massive panic attack and the time before that made her go to therapy for years to deal with the fallout.

But this time is different. One day later and she's fine and ready to move forward. To start a new chapter of her life.

And that new start includes kissing the man she's madly in love with.

"Are we still on for walking Arcus tomorrow morning?" he asks softly, taking a step closer. Maybe he's reconsidered the whole kissing thing.

"Of course," she assures him, shuffling closer until there's no space between them left. "Wouldn't wanna start my Sunday without my two favorite boys."

"Perfect," he breathes out, his voice hitching ever so slightly. "And you'll check if you can take Wednesday or Thursday off?"

She snorts. "Of course I can take one of the days off. There's gotta be some awesome perks to being your own boss."

"It's a date then."

"It definitely is."

They get lost in each other's eyes for a few moments, both waiting for a sign from the other, until she's had enough.

"Oliver?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you just kiss me already?"

His eyes widen for a second before a huge smile spreads across his face. "Gladly," he whispers just before his lips connect with hers.

The first thought that registers in her brain when it stops fritzing is that his lips are unbelievably soft. They're like soft little pillow mountains and she never wants to stop kissing them.

The kiss starts out tentative, just a press of lips, but within seconds it morphs into something so sure and familiar and almost instinctual that it's hard to believe that this is their first kiss. It might as well be their hundred and first.

She's not even a tiny bit embarrassed when she moans loudly when his teeth gently nip at her bottom lip, making her lips part. A fact that he quickly takes advantage of by sliding his tongue against hers in such a dangerously sensual way that her knees threaten to buckle beneath her.

God damnit, he's good at this.

In a move that comes straight from her wildest dreams, his hand —yes, just one hand, because the other one is busy softly caressing her cheek— slides down over her waist and thigh until it can slip just under the hem of her dress and then he lifts her entire body up and presses her with his own against the wall that he's apparently trapped her against unbeknownst to her mid-make-out-frazzled brain.

Belatedly, she realizes that while his hand is exploring the naked skin of her thigh, hers are just looped around his neck and that's just totally unacceptable. Making use of her newfound right to touch him like this, she dips her hands under his shirt, letting her fingertips trace over the ridiculously sculpted muscles across his stomach and up to his pecs, reveling in the low growl that she can feel vibrating in his chest just as much as she can hear it.

Their blissful moment ends all too abruptly when Oliver rips his lips from hers, his forehead dropping to her shoulder while he pants heavily.

Reluctantly, she retracts one of her hands from his impressive chest and soothes it through the short hair on the back of his head. She would stand before a jury and swear that he purrs ever so quietly at her ministrations. At least she's not the only one that's really far gone right now.

"Please don't ask me to stay," he whispers into the skin of her neck as his lips trail up.

"Why not?" she asks breathlessly, confusion knitting her eyebrows together. Was the kiss not quite as earth shattering for him as it was for her?

"Because I would," he sighs, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips. "And I want to, but I also wanna do this right and we already went a lot farther than I intended to after our first date."

Great, he's playing the gentleman card. How can she possibly argue with that?

"Fine," she grumbles, kissing him just because she can. "But you're not making me wait until date number seven or something stupid like that to get up close and personal with all this goodness," she warns him teasingly, letting her fingernails trail down his chest and abs until they hit the hem of his pants where she taps his belt buckle in a silent promise.

He groans and chases after her lips once more. "You'll be the death of me."

"But what a fun way to go, right?" she quips with raised eyebrows.

"The best."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

"I swear this is not what the forecast said," Oliver exclaims somewhat helplessly. "I'm never trusting that weather guy again. He said it'd be a sunny day out here in the high sixties."

"Really?" she asks, raising a challenging eyebrow, even though she knows full well that he's telling the truth. She'd checked and re-checked the forecasts all week to determine how many layers of clothes to bring, and every last one of them had promised a beautiful day in the Archterton Mountains. So, really, there's no reason for Oliver to take on any of the blame that in reality belongs to the incompetent forecasters. "You didn't plan for this torrential downpour to happen and for us to get stuck here?"

Picking up on her teasing tone, he retorts, "Damn it, now you've seen through my masterplan of luring you out here under false pretense and with a false sense of security to have my wicked way with you."

She grins mischievously and asks, "Oh, is that offer still on the table?"

He tightens his hold around her and groans, "I'm not sure if that's second date material."

"Says the guy who kissed me at the end of our first date."

"Well, yeah," he chokes out, "but… I mean… technically, you told me to kiss you."

"And I'm glad I did," she smiles, leaning up to kiss him.

"Mhh, me, too," he hums against her lips. "But speaking of technically: technically this is, like, our tenth date if you count all the dinners and lunches and coffee breaks we've enjoyed together since our first date on Saturday."

"Hmm, true. But I also remember telling you that I didn't need to reach a certain number of dates before I wanted to get up close and personal with your yumminess."

"Ah, I see. And so now you want me to have my wicked way with you?" he asks breathlessly between small pecks, punctuating his questions by stroking his fingers along her thigh in a torturously slow pattern.

"Uh-huh. Maybe you could start by giving me more than a preview of that elusive massage you've been promising me for months." Because apparently them sitting wrapped up together in thick blankets in front of a roaring fireplace with candles everywhere around them because the power went out again isn't cliché enough already. "I wanna know what all the fuss is about."

"If you're sure you're up for it?" he asks hesitantly, looking like he understands that she's not just talking about a simple massage, but about what their last massage had almost led to before Cooper had interrupted. "I would never want you to feel pressured or anything just because we're stuck in this oddly romantic situation."

She frames his face with her hands, thumbs running over his cheeks. "I'm sure about this, Oliver," she assures him, pressing a soft kiss to lips she's gotten quite well acquainted with over the past few days. "I don't feel pressured to take this step and you're definitely not pushing me. I want to be with you. In every way."

He swallows hard, regarding her closely for a few intense moments, gauging the sincerity of her response before he finally nods, his eyes instantly a shade darker than before. "I'll go grab some body lotion. Why don't you… uh… take off your jacket and shirt and lie down on your stomach?"

Her heart melts a little more when she sees the blush spread across his cheeks.

She knows with absolute certainty that she's a goner for this guy, and that's a damn scary thing to realize, but seeing him so flustered at the prospect of her taking her clothes off tells her that he's right there with her.

Her eyes fall to the black, furry monster that's silently curled up in a wet pile a few feet away. "Oh, Oliver?" He stops in his tracks and turns around. "Can you take Arcus with you and put him in the kitchen or something?"

"You want me to lock Arcus in another room?" he questions and raises an amused eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Why? It's not like he can tell anyone what he saw."

"Well, no," she argues, "but it makes me feel weird to have him so close to us when… you're giving me a massage." And hopefully some orgasms. "And he smells like wet dog," she adds lamely.

"Because he is a wet dog," he points out.

"Oliver," she sighs exasperatedly. "Please?" She adds a pout for good measure and it does the trick.

"Fine," Oliver gives in. "Come on, Arcus, you can sleep in the bedroom." His dog gets up from his spot and follows his master out of the room with a wagging tail, excited to see what awaits him in the other room. And maybe she feels a little bit bad about sending him away, but not really, when she thinks about what is about to happen.

When the coast is clear she quickly takes off her borrowed jacket, shirt and bra, lying face down on the warm blanket, head tilted to where Oliver disappeared to.

His steps falter when he comes back into the main room, eyes instantly glued to her exposed body.

"Oh… you… uhh…" he stutters, stepping closer. "You took your bra off?"

Can he please stop being so fucking cute? She always thought she had a thing for confident guys, but seeing Oliver this adorably nervous and shy all of the sudden is doing things to her. Who knew ladies' man Oliver Queen could be thrown off by the sight of a naked back.

"For the record, it's because it's your naked back," he clarifies, getting down on his knees next to her.

She groans, turning her head into the blanket. "I said that out loud? I thought I finally had my brain-to-mouth filter under control."

He just chuckles, squirting some lotion on his hands and rubbing them together. "This'll be a little cold," he warns her just before his hands touch her skin.

And yeah, she flinches a little and goosebumps spread over her body like a wildfire because the lotion is cold, but even she can admit that it's probably more because Oliver is touching her.

It's something she's realized over these last few days. Whenever he touches her, be it just holding her hand or touching her arm, or more intimate things like stroking her cheek or letting his fingers roam over her body during their more heated make-out sessions, there's this sensation that takes over her entire body. It's like a spark that is ignited wherever he touches her and then quickly moves to set her whole body aflame.

This time is no different. It starts on her shoulders where he's applying just the right amount of pressure to knead her flesh, his fingers slipping easily over the lubricated skin. The heat follows wherever his hands wander, up to her neck, down her spine, along the waistband of her pants. It's like he's setting her body ablaze with practiced movements that seem to be especially designed to drive her absolutely mad with lust.

God, the things she wants those talented hands to do next.

It's that thought that finally makes her moan under his fingers. She'd tried to keep herself quiet because she'd been a little embarrassed at how she'd become putty the last time they'd done a version of this on Saturday, but enough is enough. He might as well hear the effect he's having on her.

She'd been sure that he'd be the one to crack first. After all, he's the one that snapped the last time and the one that had flipped her onto her back in the blink of an eye. This time it's her who snaps.

"Stop," she breathes out on another moan when he hits an especially sensitive spot on her lower back.

His hands still immediately, pressing cautiously against her skin. "Felicity?" he croaks out, sounding unsure of what to do.

Without saying anything else she rolls onto her back, taking a not so miniscule amount of pride in the way his jaw drops.

And wow, this feels so surreal.

Here she is lying topless in front of one of the biggest stars in the world who has dated countless stunning actresses and supermodels and he's looking at her like she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She can't even begin to decipher all the emotions simmering in his eyes, but there's definitely awe and surprise and a whole lot of excitement.

In a swift move that surprises even herself a little bit she sits up in an elegantly fluid motion and frames his face with shaking hands, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

He's frozen against her onslaught for about two seconds before a switch is flipped and he springs into action, giving as good as he gets. Within seconds, she's pressed back down onto the covered floor and he's somehow managed to slip underneath the blankets and between her legs, pressing right where she wants him the most.

"Are you sure?" he asks breathlessly against the skin of her neck, diving ride back in once the last word has left his lips.

Damn his gentleman-ness.

How the fuck is she supposed to concentrate on giving him a coherent answer when he's making her see stars?

"I'm… yes, right there, Oliver," she moans when his fingers pinch one of her nipples just as his lips find an insanely sensitive spot on her neck. Hello, fireworks. "So fucking sure."

He suddenly stops everything he's doing and pulls back a little to look at her. The growl that may or may not roll from her lips has him chuckle lightly, but his eyes remain serious.

"I'm sure, Oliver," she tries again, laying a flat hand right over his still covered chest.

A thought strikes her then. Maybe it's not really her he's worried about. "How about you? Are you sure?"

He grinds his hips against hers, the bulge in his pants rubbing right against her center through way too many layers of clothes. "I've never been more sure about anything else in my life, Felicity. I can't even begin to describe how much I want you."

"Okay, so we're on the same page?" she questions one last time, letting one hand roam down his body to squeeze his butt.

"God, yes," he groans and slams his eyes shut.

"Great, then you better lose the shirt."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She wakes ever so slowly, god knows how many hours later, cocooned by the combined warmth of Oliver's body heat, the blankets and the fire that is still flickering a few feet away. A soft orange ray of the setting sun is shining through the window, indicating that it's been quite a few hours since they'd gotten back to Oliver's cabin, soaked through to the bone from the unexpected rainstorm that had made them double back to their point of origin two hours into their hike. The last half hour of which had been a dangerous mixture of briskly walking and more often sliding down the muddy paths leading them back to shelter.

When they'd finally made it back, wet and muddy from a few slip-ups, they'd discovered that the power was out –probably due to a tree hitting a power line, Oliver had explained— and when lightning and thunder had crackled right above their heads they'd decided to wait out the worst of the storm in the safety of the cabin before trying to find a way home.

After they'd started a fire and changed into some spare clothes he kept in his bedroom they snuggled up in front of the fireplace. And then… well, then things had heated up between them.

Which led them to the post-coital bliss they're still basking in now.

Oliver is softly nuzzling her neck, pressing lazy kisses here and there, his hands holding her in place against him. What a way to wake up.

She honestly can't remember the last time she was this content. There's no worries, no doubts, no thoughts about her company or his career. It's just them right here in this moment. The rest of the world can wait for a while.

When she turns her head towards him, he's looking at her with alert, blue eyes, a soft, content smile tugging at his lips.

"Mhh," she hums, stretching her tired limbs. "What are you thinking about?"

He just shakes his head, huffing out a breath. "I don't wanna scare you off."

She smiles tenderly at him, brushing her thumb across his scrunched up eyebrow.

She knows what's going through his mind right now. It's in the way his eyes linger on her and in the way his fingers run over her skin in a bare whisper of a touch. It's in the way he looked at her when they made love and in the way he pulled her into his body afterwards.

He loves her.

She knows that that's what's on his mind now because she feels the same way. And if he's anything like her, that feeling will be overwhelming and scary.

"Are you admitting that you're still trying to figure out the best way to dump my body while we're up here?" she quips lightly, taking away some of the tension.

Her attempt at levity works and he chuckles in response. "When are you gonna let that crazy theory go? You're way too obsessed with this whole me being a murderer thing."

She grins widely and traces her fingers along his chiseled jawline. "I told you, you're too perfect." She ignores his protesting headshake and whispers, "So tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Honestly, I think I'm just starting to really process everything," he shrugs. "It's like my brain is just now catching up with everything that has led us here. This past week has been kind of a whirlwind."

Understatement of the year.

"I'm not sure my mind is quite there yet." He shakes his head and she can practically see him rearrange his thoughts. "I've wanted this for so long, and now it's here. It's happened…" he trails off, licking his lips. "And it's amazing and I'm so happy that it did happen, but it also feels kind of surreal."

He's one to talk. He didn't just sleep with one of the hottest and most successful actors on the planet. Now that's surreal.

"It feels surreal, but at the same time it also feels… natural? It doesn't feel like this was the first time, it feels like we've done this many times before. I've never been so… naturally and instantly in sync with anyone before, and that is amazing but also a little bit scary? In a good way," he adds quickly. "But also new and foreign. And wow, I'm totally ruining this right now, aren't I?"

Can he get any cuter?

"You're not ruining anything, Oliver," she assures him and presses into him. "This whole communication thing goes both ways. When I had my doubts last week you told me that you always wanna hear about what's going on in my head. The same goes for you. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything. You never have to tell me, but you need to know that you can."

"I know that," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "I do and I appreciate that more than I can ever say. I think, safe for a few hiccups,we've been pretty good with communicating in our friendship, it shouldn't be too hard to keep doing that now that things have progressed with us, right?"

"I agree," she nods. "That's probably why our friendship grew so strong so quickly. Because we were always open and honest with each other. Now, more than ever, is the time to keep doing what we've been doing so well, and we should be just fine."

"You're remarkable, you know," he marvels, kissing her softly. "You've already been through so much in your life and here you are, so strong and positive. It's amazing."

"I didn't do it alone, though," she reminds him, her mind flashing to countless nights spent talking with Cait and Iris, family dinners with the Diggles, coding sessions with Curtis, working out with Sara, walking Arcus through the park with Oliver. "I've always had people in my life who love me unconditionally that I knew I could fall back on in case I couldn't handle things on my own."

"Tommy used to be that person for me," Oliver says in a hoarse whisper, eyes clouded with sadness. "After my parents kicked me out, he was my rock. The one person I could always rely on to cheer me up on a bad day or after an audition went poorly."

"Have you tried reconnecting with him?"

"No," he sighs. "After everything, I don't really see how we can still be friends. We've drifted so far apart that I just don't know how to get back on the same page, or even the same book, for that matter."

"But you do miss him," she points out gently, tightening her hold on his torso.

"Of course, I do. He was my best friend for more than twenty years. But that doesn't change the fact that every time he opens his mouth now, I wanna punch him for the terrible things he says. And the crazy thing is that I don't even know if his whole douchebaggery is just an act he puts on or if that's really who he is."

"Maybe you'll have to find a way to get through a whole conversation with him without punching him to find out once and for all," she suggests, feeling terrible that he's losing his best friend.

"Yeah, maybe," he sighs, shaking his head. "Remind me again why we're talking about another guy when we're naked and in each other's arms?"

She slowly traces a fingertip across the skin of his chest. "Because I care about you, and it makes me sad to think that you've lost someone so important to you."

"It's not necessarily a bad thing, though," he points out and kinda loses her for a second. How is losing your oldest friend a good thing? "The way he is right now is a constant reminder of the person I used to be. And I don't ever wanna go back to that." He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. "Maybe I've held onto him for too long and it's just taken me until now to realize that I can't fully become the new me until I completely let go of everything that was poisonous in the past. And Tommy is one of those things."

As painful as his explanation sounds, it does make a certain amount of sense. She still disagrees with his idea of cutting all ties and not giving his friend another chance to redeem himself, but he seems to be happy with his decision and so she'll support him. Maybe after some time has passed and Tommy takes the first step and proves that he can also change, there'll still be a chance for the two of them.

"What about your parents?"

"Felicity," he groans in frustration and closes his eyes. "God, I must really suck at this if you keep thinking about other people right now."

Okay, yeah, she can admit that bringing up his parents wasn't a good idea, but she figured she could address the other major question mark in his life while they're on the topic of estranged people. Maybe another time.

"I can assure you that you definitely don't suck at this," she tells him, her mind briefly flashing back to the multiple earth-shattering orgasms he's treated her to today. "That's just how my crazy mind works."

"Mhh," he hums against the skin of her neck, evidently pleased with himself for getting her back on track. "I love your crazy mind, but can we please focus back on what's important?"

"And what's that?"

"Us."

Good answer, but also a very obvious way to distract her from the fact that he still hasn't really told her about whatever had the potential to scare her off.

"Very true," she agrees, but moves her head away from his mouth. Something that turns out to be a herculean task. Damn his talented mouth. "But just for the record, this is me noticing you trying to distract me from what you said earlier. What did you mean when you said you didn't want to scare me off?"

He pulls back, pressing his lips together. "Mhh, you realized that I was stalling, huh?"

"Yup," she smiles at him proudly, pecking his lips once more.

"It's just… like I said, it's a bit scary to have this… intense connection with you. It's really, really exciting, but also something I've never had in my life before and I don't wanna screw this up."

She nods along as he explains, glad that he's opening up to her. "I think we're on the same page there."

"Yeah, but from what it sounds like, you think I have this all figured out because you think I have more experience than you, but, to be honest, I'm also out of my depth here."

Uhh… says the guy who's been with a crap load of women to the girl with, like, two boyfriends.

Her disbelief must show on her face because he sighs and continues, "Yes, I've dated a lot more than you have, but none of those relationships –and I'm using the term very loosely here— were ever serious. Not like this." He brings up one of her hands between them and gently kisses the back. "I was never in it, you know. Actually, more than a fair share of public dates or when I brought someone to a premiere or something like that, it was just for PR reasons. A lot of it was basically just business.

"So, meeting someone who's not trying to be with me for my fame or money has been… weird and not something I've had to deal with before. And knowing what kind of feelings I have for you means that I have a lot to work through and process." He runs a hand through his already ruffled hair. "Bottom line, I don't really know what I'm doing. And as much as you keep telling me how perfect I am, I'm really worried that I'll do something to mess this up. Maybe even more so because you seem to think that I know everything about being in a relationship. Which I really don't."

Well, that's unexpected.

Never in a million years would she have thought that Oliver Queen, of all people, would be insecure about relationships. Not Oliver Queen, two time People's Sexiest Man Alive, once upon a time teenage heartthrob turned award-winning superstar.

But with that train of thought comes a simmering feeling of guilt and shame for subconsciously remembering and believing what the tabloids have said about him over the years. She should've known that there is so much more to the story and to him as a person than whatever the media says. But it's just so easy to read all those scandalous headlines and see the candid photos and believe the stories they tell.

From the first time she met him in the elevator, she's always grappled with reconciling the two versions of Oliver she got to see. On the one hand, there's –or rather, there was— the cocky, successful Hollywood royalty who has screaming fans fall to his feet at every chance, and the guy who's brought a different supermodel to every premiere he attended and allegedly slept with a fair share of his female co-stars.

And on the other hand, you have the down-to-earth, incredibly kind and almost shy guy that is in front of her right now. The one that fails to carry her through the park, and the one that loves spoiling her with freshly cooked meals and lazy nights in on the couch.

That's her Oliver, the real Oliver.

That's the man she loves.

How could she ever doubt that?

"I'm sorry," she breathes, searching his eyes, hoping that he can see how much she means that.

"Hey, no, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do," she argues, looking down. "I've apparently kept letting other people's opinions and presumptions of you cloud my own judgment. Which is so stupid because I know you, the real you. I should've seen that I put too much pressure on you with my assumption that you'd magically have all the answers going into a relationship."

She feels him tug on her hands, probably to get her attention, but she's on a roll now. "Here I am talking about how important communication is and what do I do? I just assume things without even trying to talk to you…"

The tugging grows more persistent.

"… I was being such a hypocrite. How can I expect something from you and do the exact opposite myself?"

"Felicity."

"You know, I always chide other people when they do this kinda stuff, and now I'm one of them…"

"Felicity."

"Now I have to wonder, do I do this in other parts of my life, too? Am I a hypocrite all the time and just too self-righteous to realize? How do people stand to be around m-"

"I love you."

What?

"Huh?" is all she manages to croak out in her sudden stupor, her mind failing to completely catch up with his words.

He smiles indulgently at her, like he knows that she needs a second to understand what he just said, a happy twinkle dancing in his eyes. "I love you," he repeats calmly, framing her face with his hands. "I love that you care so much that you start questioning everything. I love that you are just as clueless as I am. And I love that your crazy, smart mind leads you on these epic babbles."

"I… but… that…" What is happening? Why is she, Miss Talks-a-lot, suddenly tongue-tied and unable to form a complete sentence?

"I know it's really early on in our relationship, but I just wanted you to know how I feel," Oliver explains, his thumb ghosting over her skin. "And I hope that instead of freaking you out or scaring you off, this'll help you see that I'm absolutely serious about you… and us. Crazy, nervous babbling and all."

She locks her eyes on his, searching for anything that would indicate that he's not being truthful, anything that would prove he doesn't actually mean it. All she sees is confidence and determination and love. So much love.

As if he was reading her mind, realizing that she believes him, his lips stretch into a glorious smile. "I'm in love with you, Felicity," he whispers. "And I'd like nothing more than for us to tackle this scary and new part of our lives together. As a team. As partners. As people who make mistakes and figure out how to be amazing together."

Something wet runs across her nose and only then does she realize that she's crying. Which is stupid, because she knew that this was coming. She felt it long before he said it. But hearing him say the actual words, seeing him put those feelings out in the open with zero regrets or doubts, is absolutely overwhelming.

"I'm in love with you, too," she whispers, voice laden with emotion.

His eyes widen in surprise, clearly not having anticipated her words. "You don't have to say it back just becau-"

"I love you, Oliver," she declares, her voice steadier now. "I love you."

His only answer is to dip down and capture her lips with his in a heated kiss, pouring all of his feelings, all of his love into it. And boy, who knew kissing Oliver Queen could get even better?

Every other kiss, no matter how earth-shattering or toe-curling she deemed it at the time, pales in comparison to this. Because this is everything. Their love for each other is finally out in the open, no more tiptoeing around their feelings and all the doubts and what-ifs and could-bes. There's just love and the knowledge that they'll face everything ahead of them together. The good and the bad.

Muffled barks from the upper level where Arcus is still exiled are what finally makes them part, both breathing heavily, their limbs entangled in a complete mess that feels absolutely right.

"We should probably let the poor guy out," Felicity groans –even though having Arcus crash their celebration is the last thing she wants to do right about now— and nuzzles her nose against Oliver's neck, finding the sensitive spot that makes him growl low in his belly.

"Mehh, he'll be fine for another hour. Or two."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ The End ⁂ ⁂ ⁂