End Game

AN: Happy New Year! So, I don't even know what this is . . . it was an idea that popped into my head when speculation about a possible Olicity kiss was flying around, and then got wildly out of hand after Steven Amell's comment about a sex scene involving "something new" for Oliver. I don't even know where this is headed, so bear with me. And, yeah, sorry, you will understand soon enough . . . Suffice to say Oliver's head is a messed up place. The first part is rather cheesy and trope-ish, so I apologize for that. I don't do M fics often, but this one is def an M fic, and definitely out of my usual comfort zone. This first chapter is angsty and just . . . ugh, you'll see.

Chapter 1-Mistake

It all happened because he made a mistake. He let his guard down, and made a simple, human slip that had repercussions he couldn't have imagined. 2013 had been a long and terrible year, after all. The Glades had fallen. Tommy had died. He had fled to Lian Yu, a place he had never imaged he would have willingly return to. Laurel hardly spoke to him. Felicity had almost died at the hands of the Count. Diggle had almost been trapped in a Russian prison. The Mirakuru was back in play, and Roy had been injected. They had no new leads on the man in the skull mask. Yet another person knew of his secret.

That last one had a bit to do with why things happened the way he did. Barry Allen was right; he had been a jerk to Felicity after she had brought Barry in to save his life. He had even apologized, and as usual she seemed to forgive him. Sometimes he thought she would forgive him anything, and that gave him pause. She shouldn't forgive him. She should leave. He was lost in that space between wishing she would, and simultaneously praying she wouldn't. He had felt entirely too much as she had stood toe to toe with him, arguing her decision to let Barry in on his secret in order to save his life; too much as she stood there and asked him to promise to come back—something he couldn't bring himself to do, because she was the one person he couldn't lie to. He felt too much as he thought about the look in her eyes as he had mentioned Shado's name, and too much when she had flown into his arms after he had returned from fighting Cyrus Gold. There was a part of him that wanted more—things he should not want, could not want for her safety. Or his sanity.

So after the incident with Gold, he had imposed some space between himself and the rest of his team. There was just too many raw emotions and things left unsaid between all of them. They had finished out the week, and then he gave Felicity and Diggle a solid two weeks off Arrow duties, instructing Felicity to contact him if she found anything useful on the man in the skull mask. Oliver Queen took a few weeks off from the office to spend time with his family. Because of those things, he hadn't seen Felicity for over two weeks. And God help him, but he had missed her. He shouldn't have, but he did.

By the time the New Year's Eve party at Verdant rolled around, he felt like he was unraveling in the worst way. His emotions were raw from spending the first Christmas in a reality where his best friend was dead. He felt run ragged from watching Roy carefully for signs of rage, and worrying that he might do something to hurt Thea. Not to mention the lack of sleep, as he worried about nightmares and ghosts and dreams of things he couldn't have. He was confused as to why he longed to pick up the phone and call Felicity, simply to hear her voice, when he knew that it was unsafe for him to feel that way about her. It was in that state that he bumped into Felicity on Verdant's dance floor. And made the mistake that would have such far-reaching consequences.

He had been walking toward the front door, needing a respite from the noise and the endless wall of bodies when he collided into her. He instinctively reached out a hand to her elbow to steady the woman he collided with, not realizing who it was. "Oh, sorry," she said, looking up. "Stupid shoes. . . " Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes, and he realized it was Felicity.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, harsher than he had intended. He was surprised to see her. And relieved, because those raw edges that had been plaguing him incessantly felt immediately soothed. That didn't make any sense, because he could not allow himself to feel that way about anyone.

"Umm . . ." She said, biting her lip. "Thea invited me?" She searched his eyes and frowned, apparently not liking what she saw there. " Are you okay Oliver?"

He took her elbow and ushered her toward the club's entry way, where it was quieter and much less crowded. He stopped and turned her to face him. "This doesn't seem like your scene," he said matter-of-factly. God, he was a jerk.

She looked down at his shoes. She looked lovely, wearing a short, glittery green dress he had never seen before. She had her contacts in, and her hair was swept up and off her shoulders. "I was worried about you," she confessed gently, still looking at the ground. "I hadn't heard from you, and Digg said he hadn't seen you. And whenever I stop by the Foundry, you aren't there either. Then Thea called, and I figured . ." She trailed off, and looked up at him. "You didn't answer me, Oliver. Are you okay?"

He sighed, and shrugged. He couldn't lie to her with a damn. "It's good to see you," he admitted, and he immediately felt guilty as she smiled at him. Guilty because he shouldn't feel this overwhelming relief from seeing her. It was not safe. He repeated it like a mantra, but because he was at his root, a selfish creature, the desire to have her close, to not feel the darkness that was overwhelming him, won out over the voice of reason. He leaned against the wall and asked her something inconsequential, simply to hear her talk. And then before he knew what was happening, he could hear the crowd in the club counting down. And he was leaning toward her. It wasn't a conscious thing, and later he would wonder how he could have let it happen. At the time though, he hadn't given it any thought. He just knew that he felt whole with her there, and he missed feeling whole. It felt like he hadn't felt whole in a long, long time.

Her eyes grew big as he moved in. "Oliver . . ." she said, and there was a question in her voice. She placed her hands on his chest, and there was a slight pressure there, as if she wasn't sure this was a good idea. He rested his forehead against hers, and she was so close, it took his breath away. He could feel the rightness of being close with her in his bones at that moment. He whispered her name, and it occurred to him that it sounded like a prayer, or a promise, as it came out of his lips. A look of surprise, shock and something else he couldn't name came into her eyes as she looked into his, and then he was kissing her, as the people in the club yelled "Happy New Year."

Light exploded behind his eyes and it felt so right, more right than anything he had ever done in his life. In that moment, he couldn't think of the long list of reasons he had compiled as to why he shouldn't want her. He simply knew that he wanted her. She clung to him for a moment, and then pushed herself back from him, one hand moving to her lips. "Um . . . " He moved to take a step toward her, already missing the warmth of her touch. He didn't like the look of disbelief in her eyes—after the way he had been feeling lately, he couldn't understand why she was surprised. She put a finger of her other hand up, stopping him. She closed her eyes for a long moment. As he waited her out, he started remembering all the reasons that this was a bad idea. He hurt people. And people would hurt her, just to get to him.

"Felicity," he said slowly, not even sure what he would say to her.

She spoke to him, keeping her eyes closed. "I'm not that girl, Oliver," she said slowly. She finally opened her eyes, searching his face. She looked so innocent, and he reminded himself again of all of the reasons that this shouldn't happen. But God, he wanted her, wanted them. "I can't go here, and then pretend it didn't happen."

He looked at her, completely conflicted, frozen in place. And he knew, from the look of disappointment in her eyes, that it wasn't the response she needed. "Happy New Year, Oliver," she said. Then she turned, and she was gone. He leaned back against the wall, letting his head fall back as he exhaled. He had no idea to reconcile all the things warring inside him. When the noise in his head became too much, he pushed off the wall and headed to the basement. He had avoided the space for the past few weeks, seeking to avoid the memories of his ghosts, of Felicity asking him to promise to come back, of her running into his arms. But now he needed the exhaustion that came from working out. He didn't want to think, didn't want to feel. So he focused instead on his breathing, his actions, and the simple act of where his fist would hit the training dummy next. Hours later, long after the club had quieted, he took the bottle of Russian vodka from Yao Fe's ammunition box and sat down on the mats, allowing himself to become more drunk than he had in years. He found his way home after the sun had risen, and slept away most of the first day of the New Year.

Despite his uncertainty about what was happening with Felicity, it wasn't until the following morning that he truly considered that kiss a mistake. It had felt too right for him to call it a mistake. When Diggle showed up at his front door to take him to the office, he wordlessly shoved a tabloid paper in his hands. He knew, just from the look of annoyance in Digg's eyes, what it was. He opened it, and saw a grainy picture of him kissing Felicity. And, dammit all, it identified her by name. His jaw clenched, and he looked up at Digg. Digg just stared back, eyebrow raised. Without a word, the older man turned and headed back out the door, leaving Oliver to stew as he followed him out to the car.

xxx

Things were busy at the office, after the long holiday break, and while he saw Felicity regularly, Oliver didn't get a moment alone with her. Which was really a good thing, because he didn't have a clue what he would say to her. Had she seen the article? Did she realize that it made her even more of a target than ever? He sighed, and shifted in his chair, attempting to focus on the presentation being given by the head of marketing. The day dragged on, a parade of endless meeting. Even lunch was during a meeting. As Oliver ushered the last round of people out of his conference room, he saw that Felicity's desk was empty, her computer off for the day. Apparently whatever they needed to say to each other would be said at the Foundry tonight before they returned to their extra-curricular evening activities.

He was grabbing his things and preparing to meet Digg downstairs when Isabel Rochev swooped into his office. He groaned internally. He could guess what she was here about. Indeed, she closed the door behind her and threw the tabloid onto his desk, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

He sighed. "It was just a New Year's kiss," he said, and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach as he said the words. She was so much more than that. He realized was going to be more convincing, especially with Isabel, if he wanted anyone to believe there was nothing between him and Felicity. As much as he was realizing that he wanted there to be, he reminded himself again that it was not safe for her. Being with him would make her even more of a target than she already was to his enemies.

"This isn't good for the company Oliver," she started. Oliver tilted his head to the side, pasting his "Oliver Queen" face on. He wondered again why she cared, and what her interests were in Queen Consolidated. Because he was absolutely certain there was something more going on there—which was one of the reasons it was imperative Isabel not realize that Felicity's importance, in the Arrow's life or Oliver Queen's.

"She's still just a friend," he said. "It was just a kiss, nothing more. I kiss a lot of women."

Her eyes dropped to his lips. Shit, he thought, this again. She stepped toward him and fiddled with his tie. "Prove it," she challenged. He internally sighed. She was a beautiful woman, but he discovered in Russia that she held no real interest for him. Not to mention he had no real desire to see that look of disappointment in Felicity's eyes if she found out that he slept with her again. He started to make an excuse, but Isabel cut him off. "Unless, of course, your assistant really has you as wrapped around her finger as everyone in this office seems to think."

He had that same bad feeling that had been niggling him about Isabel for quite some time, except now it was amplified a thousand times over. Her interest in his involvement with Felicity, her interest in QE, and her mother's innate distrust of her, paired with other things he knew about her—things he hadn't mentioned to Digg or Felicity-made his decision for him. He couldn't allow her to think Felicity meant as much to him as she actually did. So he stepped in to her, made a scoffing sound, and crushed his lips down on hers as he pulled her to him. Never mind that he was kissing her with the same lips he had kissed Felicity with just days before.

He tried not to think about the explosion of light and feeling and had felt when he had kissed Felicity, which was more certainly not happening now. He couldn't allow himself to think about any of that. This was a necessary means to an end. He pushed her back against the desk, and she growled appreciatively at him. At least, with Isabel, there was no need for words. She was happy simply with the act. He lifted her skirt, and did the things she expected. He did his duty well, and simply turned his mind off.

Isabel chuckled unexpectedly as he was thrusting into her, holding on to his shoulder as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Mmm, time to really prove it," she said, and he felt his heart drop at the vindictive pleasure in her voice. He didn't need to glance over his should to know what . . . who . . . Isabel was looking at, but he stupidly did it anyway. Felicity stood frozen at the entryway in from the elevators, mouth agape. Her eyes flew to meet his, and then she was spinning on her heel before he could fully register the shock in her eyes. And yes, the disappointment had been there too, again.

Isabel wrapped her leg around his hip, her high heel digging into his calf as she ground back against him, reminding him what he was currently doing. "What will it be, Mr. Queen," she taunted. "Go after your sweet secretary, or make me come?" Oliver wanted to go after Felicity. He truly did. But the tone in Isabel's acerbic tone told him that he was absolutely right, there was more to her than she was letting on, and since the damage was already done, he might as well play the act out to the end. He turned and kissed her again, tamping down the part of him that screamed this was wrong-the wrong woman, the wrong thing to be doing.

As soon as it was over, he glanced at his phone. Several missed calls from Felicity, which was probably what had brought her here, and another from Diggle. He sighed theatrically. "It looks as if I need to go. My sister needs help with something at the club."

Isabel smoothed her hands over her dress and shrugged, smiling at him. Oliver turned, and headed through the door as calmly as he could. He finally allowed himself to think about all that had just happened, and the damage that he was certain he had done. This evening was bound to be infinitely more unpleasant than the entire day combined. All because he had allowed himself to kiss Felicity, and they had been photographed. He knew it had been a mistake, but all he could think about in that moment was how angry and hurt she was probably feeling in that moment. He tried to remind himself that he had done it to keep her safe, to make sure that no one knew how important she was to him, but the words felt hollow, even in his head