Title: Sleepless Nights
Word Count: 1715

Notes: *emerges from the void of vet med*

This is imusuallyobsessed's fault. She wanted more vampire!Oliver, and now here we are. All I know about my timeline is that it's after "Out of Control," but you already knew that. ;) Thanks for reading!

*disappears back in the void of vet med*

"No," Felicity grumbles to her annoying alarm clock as she turns over, even though she knows she'll have to get up in a few minutes. She didn't build in enough time for sleeping in, but that doesn't stop her from seeing what happens. Reaching over, she slaps her hand over the snooze button, and blessed silence falls over her room.

A second later, it starts in again.

Two seconds later, Felicity realizes it isn't her alarm clock.

Her alarm clock doesn't have a clock radio, but a male vocalist is singing about not letting his demons drag him to the grave. She only glances over at the clock once to check the time—two a.m. If Oliver is calling her now, it's important; he never calls after she's already left the lair for the night.

"What's wrong?" she answers without preamble. "Are you hurt? Do you need blood?" She rolls her neck in anticipation; as much as he hates to do it, they both know she's his backup blood supply in an emergency.

There's a long pause before he finally answers, "I shouldn't have called." There's an odd tone in his voice, one Felicity hasn't learned yet. After a year of this, she thought she'd learned how to read him. "I'm sorry to worry you, Felicity. Everything is fine. Forget I called and go back to sleep."

"Oliver, wait!" she calls. There's a long sigh, which makes her release a breath. He hasn't hung up yet. "I know you wouldn't call unless there was a reason. I'm up now, so could you just talk to me? Please?"

She's sure it's the please that does it. By the time he releases another long breath, she already knows he's going to relent. "I…" Silence hangs between them for a moment, and even as Felicity throws her feet over the edge of the bed, she knows he's trying to gather his thoughts. It doesn't stop her from pacing, though. "I'm outside your house."

Felicity stops with a foot in the air, nearly toppling. He sounds just as surprised by the revelation. "Don't take this wrong," she starts, but why are you outside my house, Oliver?" Even though she prefaced it, the question still comes out too hard, like an accusation. "Not that you aren't welcome here. You are. It's just… random."

"I don't know," he admits, too quiet to have been meant for her. Louder, he replies, "I couldn't sleep tonight. I went for a walk, and I just… ended up here." Another pause, and she can practically hear him doing that nervous tic, thumb rubbing the outside of his index finger. "I… It felt strange to come by without checking on you."

Because she knows he won't say it, Felicity does: "You had a nightmare about me, didn't you?" He's been having them recently, probably because his past is coming back to haunt him. It's stirred it all up for him again, and now his gaunt, pale face is highlighted with circles under his eyes. From what little he's told her, he's had dreams about all the impossible concerns his mind makes up. Last night his head tormented him with dreams of Thea dying. Before that it was Tommy. The night before was Moira. It must be her turn in the rotation.

He doesn't answer, but Felicity didn't expect him to. There are only a few things that Oliver won't talk about with her, but this is one of them. Sighing, takes steps to the front door before hanging up. After sliding all the locks he insisted she needed, she throws open the door.

Felicity has been through a lot with Oliver in the last year. She's seen him nearly dead, blood-deprived, and hallucinating. She's seen the fury that takes him over when he thinks his family is threatened, his inability to see reason when his loved ones are involved. She's watched him, hands shaking, keep her at arm's length, both desperate to drain her dry and keep her safe. Felicity has seen all the darkest sides of Oliver Queen, and never once has she been afraid.

Tonight, a cold chill runs down her spine at the sight of him.

Even at his worst, she's never seen him this bad. His hands are shaking, but it has nothing to do with needing blood. His thumb rubs against his index finger in that familiar pattern. His eyes are lidded as though he can barely keep them open. Her stomach plummets; they've been through a lot together, but this is entirely new.

She swallows hard as he walks past her and into the house, taking a moment to lock her door before turning to him. When his eyes meet hers, one corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile—one so small she would have missed it a year ago. It doesn't quite meet his eyes, but only Oliver would try a smile to keep her from worrying.

Even though she knows how he feels about human contact, Felicity can't resist any longer. Instead of a greeting, she simply rises on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. He freezes in surprise, as immobile as stone for a few heartbeats. Just when she's sure he isn't going to react, he thaws, wrapping his arms around her. His nose presses against her neck, next to her scar from his teeth, but they both know that tonight it isn't her blood he needs.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, but finally Oliver shifts—her cue to pull away. Before he lets her go, though, there's a ghost of a touch across that spot on her neck. If she didn't know better, she'd think his lips brushed against it.

"Want to talk about it?" Felicity asks, just like she always does.

"No," Oliver answers with a sigh, as he does every time she asks. The next part is new: "I'm sorry I scared you." Her brow furrows, so he adds, "I can smell the changes in your hormone levels." While it's a new fact, Felicity stopped being surprised by his vampire voodoo powers a year ago. His head tilts to the side. "You've never been afraid around me before."

It's only then that she realizes what he means. "I'm not afraid of you, Oliver," she answers with a roll of her eyes. He might be dangerous, but not to her. If she was a criminal intent on destroying the Glades, then she'd be scared. "I'm afraid for you. Don't take this the wrong way, but you look terrible."

"Is there a right way to take that?" he mutters.

Felicity isn't done yet. "I know the last month has been really hard, but I've never seen you like this. It worries me." Crossing her arms, she admits, "I've always thought the biggest danger to your wellbeing is you. And you've been…" Distant. Quiet. Maybe even cold. But she can't tell him that, not right now. He'll only use it as another weapon to flagellate himself with, and Felicity isn't going to let his hyperactive sense of self-blame kick in now. "You haven't been yourself. You won't talk to me. You won't talk to Digg. We're concerned, Oliver."

He runs a hand through his hair, turning away before muttering, "It's hard to confide in people when you have nightmares about killing them."

They both freeze at his words, and Felicity feels her eyes go wide. A second later, she's in front of him, taking one of his hands. The other cups his face, but even then he won't look at her. "Hey," she starts, just barely above a whisper, "you don't have to worry about that. You would never hurt us. I promise I was only worried about you, okay? I'm not afraid of you. I never have been. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"There was that one time," he reminds her.

"You were half-delirious from blood loss," she reminds him. With a smile, she adds, "If you think you're going to scare me off, Oliver Queen, you're going to be very disappointed. You might be a supernatural creature of the night, but you're doing the whole villain thing all wrong." He snorts, which is the closest she's going to get to a laugh. "I know there's a lot running through your head right now, but add this to it: I believe in you." Felicity winces at her own words. "That sounded really cheesy, but—"

But what, she doesn't get a chance to say. It all happens so fast her head spins, but all she knows is that one moment she's trying to talk him out of his melancholy, but the next his mouth is on hers. What she'll contemplate later is that her reaction is to immediately kiss him back.

It isn't gentle. It isn't sweet. It isn't even pretty. It's not a first kiss they talk about in the movies or write about in a novel. It's rough. It's searing. And Felicity is fairly certain that burning in her lip is because he split it. Judging by the way his tongue keeps flicking across it, it's also bleeding. But none of that matters because Oliver is kissing her. And he might have won some awards somewhere because he is good at it.

As soon as she wraps her arms around his neck, it's over. He pulls out of her grip as though she's set him on fire. Between pants, he says, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No, you should have," Felicity hears herself say, two octaves higher than normal. "It was good. It was great, even. You should definitely do that whenever you feel like it."

"I should…" he starts, looking at anything but her. Felicity means to tell him he should absolutely do that again, but the words won't come. It's possible he might have short-circuited her brain. His ending for that sentence isn't as fun: "I should go."

At record speed, he's gone, and Felicity stares at her door for a minute after him, trying to decide if he just vanished through the wall using his vampire voodoo. Or maybe he used all of it up when he kissed her. Either way, nothing makes sense anymore because Oliver kissed her.

And then he left.

Without explanation.

Felicity sighs and shakes her head. Typical.

She touches her fingers to her lip, wincing when it burns. Oh, yeah—Oliver split it.

At least she'll have a few sleepless hours to think up a good cover story for her busted lip.