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She was rattling off figures and numbers as she stepped off the bottom step of the stairs into the Foundry. It wasn't until she didn't hear the familiar grunting of Diggle and Oliver's greetings that she looked up and abruptly stopped in her tracks.
A familiar figure all in black sat in her computer chair, cheshire grin planted on her dark red lips. Her black hair hung around her head like a dark curtain, and Felicity could see her crossbow resting in her lap.
"Ah, I was wondering when we'd meet again..." Helena drawled, running her black nails up and down the handle of her bow. "Interesting to see you're still around. Then again, it's not too much of a surprise."
Felicity's guard immediately went up and she instantly wondered where Oliver and Diggle were. They were supposed to be there before her - she’d had to run home and change before she headed to the Foundry.
Straightening her shoulders, Felicity took a few more steps forward, glaring at the woman sitting in her chair. "What are you doing here?"
She worked hard to keep her voice level, her eyes narrowing as she clasped the strap of her purse.
"Oh, you know," the raven-haired woman replied with a smile, "Just dropping by to see old friends."
Felicity shoulders fell back, remembering the last time she'd seen Helena - just before the woman bound her hands and feet and left her on the floor of her office. She'd felt the tip of her crossbow against her head and had assumed death was coming. Then all she knew was blackness.
She'd awoken sometime later, alone and frightened, wondering where Oliver was and if he would come.
She swallowed past the memories of that night, pushing them back into the far recesses of her mind. But it was too late, Helena had already seen her momentary lapse. Her smile widened.
"I do realize we didn't leave off on the best of terms, my dear," she stated, her eyes traveling over Felicity and she felt like prey. "But you and I, we have something in common."
Felicity drew her eyebrows together in confusion.
"Oliver," Helena said, eyebrow raised, waiting to see her reaction.
"Granted, he obviously sees something in you. The fact that you're still around is proof of that, as is the fact that he only came after me when I threatened you. Don't you find that interesting?" She asked as she uncrossed her legs, fluidly moving to her feet.
Felicity's muscles tensed as Helena took the first few steps towards her. Her eyes glanced at the nearest weapon she could find and it was at least ten feet to her left.
Helena continued to talk as she moved, slowly like a cat circling their prey. "I threatened his family. His identity. His best friend. And he did nothing. Until I came after you."
Felicity's heart beat loudly in her chest as Helena was only a few steps away from her now. "He was tired of you threatening people," Felicity said, her voice steadier than she thought it would be in that moment. "He was done letting you take out your vendetta in this city."
"Now you sound like him," she replied, tilting her head to the side. "What is it about you that makes you so special?"
Felicity didn't reply, and apparently, Helena wasn't really interested in the answer. Instead, she continued talking, as she walked her circle around Felicity. Well trained by Diggle and Oliver, Felicity moved with her, never allowing her to get behind her. Helena seemed to notice this and smiled knowingly.
"The little IT girl has grown up," she crowed, eyes alighting a little manically.
Felicity bit her tongue on the ramble she felt building up within her. She didn't want to give too much away to Helena although she was sure the woman had heard about the destruction of part of the Glades, and the disappearance of Oliver afterwards. Things had changed in Starling City, and so had she.
"What do you want Helena?" Felicity bit out, knowing she had a purpose for being here, and she was sure it had something to do with her father who'd been arrested again last week thanks to the Arrow.
"You know exactly what I'm doing here," Helena barked, the smile falling from her lips as she stepped closer. "I want my father dead. You put him back behind bars. That isn't good enough. You helped me before. Where are they keeping him now?"
Felicity swallowed and shook her head. "I can't tell you that. I don't know."
Helena moved before Felicity could blink. She made a desperate lunge to the side, but Helena grabbed her, twisting and her so her back was to Helena’s front and she felt the prick of arrow against her left shoulder.
"Where. Is. He?" she yelled, her voice echoing around the large room.
"Drop it, Helena!" Oliver's voice boomed around them and Felicity instantly heaved a sigh of relief. Her head lifted and she saw him poised at the bottom of the stairs, hand raised, body tense and on-alert. Diggle stood next to him, gun drawn, looking for all the world that he wouldn't mind putting a bullet somewhere in Helena.
"Oliver!" Helena cried, filled with a sense of glee that made Felicity shiver. "I'm so glad you could join us."
"Let. Her. Go." he said, his voice so low it almost sounded like when he was under the hood.
She felt Helena shift, but the arrow only dug deeper into her shoulder. "Oh, but she's such a good bargaining chip," she said knowingly.
Oliver's jaw ticked, and Diggle released the safety of his gun.
"If you want your father, you can't hurt me," Felicity stated firmly. "I can't help you if I'm dead."
"Who said anything about killing you?" Helena whispered against her ear. "No, of course not. Just a little fun, that's all."
A shudder ran through Felicity at Helena's unhinged voice. She'd fallen even more off the deep end since she'd last been in Starling. The cold emotionless tone of her voice gave away little and Felicity wondered if Oliver noticed it as well.
Oliver took a step forward then and it drew Helena's attention away from her. Felicity saw her chance and reacted. Her leg kicked out in a practiced sweep and she cried out as the arrow sunk into her skin when Helena lost her balance and fell backwards. The small bolt made her cry out as it embedded itself into her shoulder, but before she could do anything, strong hands found her arms, and pulled her up off the floor.
The pain that radiated out from her shoulder caused a cold sweat to break out on her skin, but she made herself breathe in through her nose and push the nausea away.
When she looked up, she saw Diggle his gun trained on an unarmed Helena who was sitting on the floor glaring up at him, a challenge in her eyes.
Oliver looked at her, concern flooding his eyes as he searched her face, one hand reaching for her. She quickly shook her head, trying to tell him she was okay. Her mouth was dry and she swallowed forcing words from her throat.
“I’m okay,” she croaked, needing him to focus on Helena and not worry about her right now.
Immediately she knew he didn’t realize that the bolt had left Helena’s bow and was now lodged in her back, but with the already murderous look in his eyes she knew telling him now would only result in bad things for Helena. She couldn’t be the reason he went back on his vow again. Biting her lip, she tried to lower her shoulders and look more relaxed, but the movement caused the bolt to move slightly and she sucked in a deep breath as her vision blackened around the edges.
Swaying, she felt Oliver’s hand reach out and catch hers, and knew if she didn’t pretend she was okay he would find out the truth of the situation. Drawing on her last reserves of strength, she gave him a soft smile and nodded, willing him to believe that she was fine.
Blue eyes swimming with anger, worry, and concern locked with hers for the briefest of moments and then he gave an almost imperceptible nod and then he was focused back on Helena, his hand leaving hers. He bodily moved in front of her, putting him in between her and the other woman, close enough that he could reach out and touch if he needed.
"Still don't like to share your toys, do you Oliver," Helena taunted, even though she kept her eyes on Diggle and the gun pointed at her. "And here all I wanted was a little favor."
"We're not doing you any favors," Oliver replied through gritted teeth, taking a few steps towards her.
"You had to know I'd come," she threw at him. "You caught my father. He's mine to deal with! Not the police...mine."
Her voice was so full of venom and hate, a shiver ran through Felicity, and she clamped down on a whimper as the movement caused the bolt to shift in her shoulder. Her knees threatened to buckle and she had to reach out blindly for the nearest surface, thankful her desk was right behind her.
"Don't push me, Helena," Oliver threatened. "Your father is going to prison. For life. Just like he was supposed to do months ago if it hadn't been for you."
Helena jumped to her feet and Diggle reached out, banding his arm around her, holding her back before Felicity could blink. Oliver found his bow and had an arrow nocked in seconds, aimed straight at her, a look in his eyes she recognized as one he wore while under the hood.
"Prison's too good for him," she spat. "He doesn't deserve that. Not after what he's done. He's ruined enough lives, including mine."
"No," Oliver cut her off. "You ruined yours. You made the choices you have made. No one did them for you."
Helena laughed and the sound was hollow and rattled in the space around them. "Right, and you didn't have anything to do with it. You used me too...you tried to change me, make me into something else to ease your own loneliness. I was nothing but a pawn to you too. You dated me, but you loved her. You'll always love her."
It was then that her eyes turned and locked with Felicity's. "Hear that blondie," she crowed, struggling in the hold Diggle had on her but getting nowhere. "He'll never love you. Not like you love him. He'll just use you until you're no good to him anymore. Then he'll have no problem putting an arrow through your heart."
"That's enough!" Oliver roared, the bow creaking in his hands as he clenched his hands, and Felicity could see the tremor that ran through his entire frame. Each muscle in his body was tense and coiled, ready to attack if needed.
Felicity surprised them all when she spoke, but she knew she needed to - for herself and Oliver. She braced her hand on the desk, hoping to not look as if she was about to faint.
"You're wrong," she stated as evenly as possible as she felt herself grow weaker and weaker as her shoulder ached. "You're wrong, Helena. You were wrong then and you are wrong now."
The other woman's face twisted into a frown, but Felicity continued before she could interrupt, "And Oliver never wanted to hurt you until you threatened his family and friends."
"No," Helena stated evenly, "I threatened you, sweetie. That's the difference."
The words echoed in her head but she couldn't truly let herself take hold of them and believe them.
The door to the lair banged open for the second time and then Roy was there, eyes blazing as he took in the scene.
Helena’s eyes raked over the new addition to the team, and she smiled, “Another protege?” she asked, her eyes flying to Oliver. “He looks like a bit of a loose canon. Then again, you always have loved playing with fire.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but shut up,” Roy stated, his eyes flashing and Felicity knew he was close to losing his temper at seeing the team in peril or his own manhood taunted.
“That’s enough, Roy,” Diggle stated with an underlying calm that Felicity knew Oliver couldn’t have in the moment. “She’s goading you.”
Helena smile only grew. “Yes, I do love to goad. I want to see what he can do? I’ve heard stories...show me your big bad side…”
"Get her out of here, Digg," Oliver commanded, and Digg looked more than eager to oblige.
Roy’s hands fisted at his side as he watched Helena struggling in Diggle’s grip. It wasn’t until she tried to go after him that he lost what little control he seemed to have.
Grabbing her crossbow off the floor, he brought it down against her head so she slumped forward.
“Roy!” Felicity weakly reprimanded, staring in his direction until her she felt her knees ready to give and a sharp, white hot pain spike through her at the sudden movement.
“Not going to apologize for it,” he replied, looking at her in concern. “You okay?”
Felicity nodded, not ready for Oliver to realize just how badly she was hurt until Helena was out of the Foundry.
“I’ll call Lyla,” Digg stated as he walked past them. “Maybe ARGUS has a safe place to keep Ms. Bertinelli for awhile.”
Roy eyed her curiously when she felt her balance falter but she shook her head, begging him not to ask.
She could tell he didn’t like it, but he nodded and followed Diggle up the stairs.
When the door slammed shut, silence surrounded them for a moment before Felicity swayed again, the effort it took to keep her shoulder immobile too much. Her shoulders fell slightly and a shockwave of pain tore through her and she let out a sharp exhale.
Knowing she couldn’t keep the extent of her injury a secret any longer, she closed her eyes tightly to find the strength she needed to form words. Her vision was blurring at the edges and she wasn’t sure she could keep her knees from buckling. Oliver stood two feet in front of her, his shoulders rigid, staring at the door, lost in his thoughts. She knew he was thinking about everything that Helena had just said and as much as she wanted to reassure him, she had to be conscious to do that.
“Oliver,” she whimpered, her voice smaller than she expected it to be.
His eyes cut to her immediately, and he took her in, alarm spreading throughout his face as he rushed forwards, eating up the space between them in two strides.
“Felicity?” he asked worriedly.
Another wave of nausea hit her as he tried to turn her and she clamped a bloody hand onto the sleeve of his dress shirt. He grasped her wrist, his eyes growing wider with each passing second.
“It’s not just a scratch,” she murmured breathlessly, the fine sheen of sweat on her skin causing a chill to run through her.
He leaned over her then, stepping into her space so her forehead was against his chest as he angled his head to see her back. Her hands fisted in the fine fabric, not caring that she was pulling it from where it was smoothly tucked into his grey slacks. She felt him moving her hair - which she’d left down that day - away from her shoulder and when a strand got caught on the bolt she couldn’t stop the cry that escaped her mouth. A series of curses fell from his lips as he finally got a look at her shoulder.
“Damn it, Felicity!” he said almost desperately, as he immediately banded a hand around her waist and another under her knees.
Her world titled as he lifted her easily, and she slammed her eyes shut at the sudden shift in her equilibrium as he carried her swiftly over to the table and set her down gently on the cold metal.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, her hands shaking as he pried them from his shirt. “You needed to focus on Helena and she was trying to use me and I couldn’t let her know…”
“Shh,” he hushed her, his warm breath trailing over her forehead as he pushed strands of hair out of her face and cupped her cheeks. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” he murmured, but she could hear the evident tremor in his voice, and saw the way his jaw worked up and down as he tried to keep control of his emotions.
Giving her hands one more squeeze, he slid around to the other side of the table. She felt his warm fingers try to push back the thin material of her blouse but she cried out and he immediately stopped with a soft apology.
A frustrated grunt fell from his lips and he laid his hand on her good shoulder as she began to sway. “Stay with me, Felicity,” he pleaded, and although he kept his voice firm she could hear the frisson of panic.
“I’m trying…”
The next thing she felt was cold metal running along the length of her back and she shuddered as inch by inch the shirt fell away from her skin. Through her foggy mind, she realized he was cutting away her blouse and as much as she might normally protest, at this point, she found she didn’t care, she just wanted the pain in her shoulder to stop.
When the last bit of fabric was gone, her shirt hung open, exposing her back as it fell off to the sides. Oliver swore again and she heard the desperate grab for supplies as he tried to clean away some of the blood she could feel dripping down her skin.
A cry tore from her throat as he carefully slipped her bra strap away from the wound. When it hung off to the side, he probed her skin trying to determine the extent of her injury. She’d seen Digg work on Oliver enough times to know he was trying to figure out if he could pull out the object without causing more damage. She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled sharply as a spike of agony radiated out from her shoulder.
She heard his voice, but couldn’t focus on what he was saying. But she could tell by his tone he was trying to calm her.
Goosebumps broke out across her flesh as the cool air of the Foundry washed over her skin. She bit down on the bile that rose in her throat when she swayed again, shifting on the table.
When one of his arms banded about her waist, she grasped it tightly with both of her hands. As gently as possibly, he pulled her further onto the table. Through the white, hot pain, she could feel the the heat of him behind her and she ached to be able to lean back into him.
There was a prick of a needle in her shoulder and she whimpered, biting down on her bottom lip as the numbing medication eased into her. The effects were almost immediate, although she knew from experience they needed at least five minutes to fully numb even a small area. Focusing on pulling deep breaths in and out through her nose, she tried not to move as it worked it’s way into her muscles.
It wasn’t until some of the pain began to ebb that she opened her eyes, noticing that she had dropped her head forward. She saw her purple nails digging into the tanned skin of his arm and felt the way his free hand smoothed circles over her uninjured shoulder.
Relaxing her muscles, Felicity felt him release a breath behind her and desperately wished the pounding in her head would abate so she could turn to look at him.
He was murmuring words of comfort into her hair as her eyes slipped shut and then she felt his hand against squeezing lightly on her uninjured shoulder, begging her to open her eyes. She did as he asked and reached up a shaking hand to his, lacing their fingers together. The ragged breath that left him made her heart ache and she gave his hand a tight squeeze again letting him know she would do her best to stay with him as he asked.
A few minutes later he pulled away, the medication in full effect. His breath ghosted across the nape of her neck, “You’re going to feel a tug, but that should be it,” he told her matter-of-factly, and she could hear the restraint he was trying to use.
She nodded her head and then took a deep breath as he instructed. She felt the sharp tug and cried out at the thought more than any actual pain. Her body reacted to the pain it couldn’t feel and she saw the white spots dance before her eyes again. Oliver pressed a gauze pad over the now unobstructed wound, holding it tightly as his other hand found hers.
Her fingers twined through his once more and she clung to him, her head pounding and her body aching as her eyes grew tired. No longer able to support her own weight she let herself lean back into him, her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. She felt the slight hitch in his breathing before his head came to rest against hers.
“Tired,” she murmured, scared at how her speech was beginning to slur and her voice became sluggish.
“I know. You can rest soon,” he breathed into her temple before gently pushing her forward some so he could finish patching her up.
She was trying to stay awake but the edges of her vision were blurring and fading in and out. The distant sound of the door alarm beeping and Oliver’s frantic voice calling her name pulled her back from the darkness and she fought to stay conscious.
Suddenly, Oliver was in front of her, his hands bracketing her face as someone else kept the pressure on her shoulder. She knew without looking that Diggle was there and she focused on Oliver, fingers slipping up his arms to wrap around his wrists.
“I need you to stay with me,” he told her, his voice harder than before, but she heard the underlying panic in his voice.
Swallowing, she blinked as she felt Diggle begin to work behind her. He and Oliver were talking over her but she couldn’t make out their words over the pounding in her head. A flash of red to the side of Oliver caught her attention and she dragged her gaze in that direction until she could make out the figure of Roy.
He looked more than a little worried as he watched the scene unfold before him, his eyes tracking every movement of both Oliver and Diggle. She could tell he wanted to help, but didn’t know how to in that moment. A small smile was all she could offer him before Oliver’s voice was pulling her attention back to him.
“Digg’s going to put in your stitches,” he told her, his hands ghosting across her cheeks and down her neck.
Her head fell forward onto the broad expanse of his chest and he held her there as Diggle worked on her.
“What can I do?” she heard Roy ask a few minutes later but she couldn’t lift her head to see him.
She felt Oliver bristle, tensing beneath her touch.
“Nothing,” he bit out more acerbically than normal and she knew it was the worry and stress from the events and not because of Roy. “Just don’t get in the way…”
She gave his wrist another squeeze. “Oliver…”
At her soft, pleading tone he seemed to relax and with a tired voice she called out to the younger man. “Don’t mind him. I’ll be okay…”
“What happened?” she heard him ask and knew if she looked up, Oliver would be glaring at him.
“What does it look like, Roy,” Oliver growled and Felicity could feel how on edge Oliver truly was from the way his whole frame vibrated with every word he spoke.
She wasn’t surprised when Roy’s temper rose to match Oliver’s. “I don’t know. I came down here and some crazy chick dressed in purple and black is in your secret lair...and now Blondie’s hurt…Crazy ex?”
Diggle grunted behind her and Oliver’s muscles became like rock beneath her fingers, and she knew he was sending Roy a heated glare that matched the ones he used as the Arrow.
“Roy, can you hand me those extra gauze pads from over there?” Diggle asked a moment later, and she knew exactly what he was doing and reminded herself to thank him later.
She kept her grip tight on Oliver’s wrist as his hands began moving again over her head and through the strands of her hair.
There were two more tugs that she felt and then Diggle rested his hand against her elbow. “All done. Only needed a few but it looks like you lost quite a bit of blood. You’re going to be pretty groggy for awhile and sore for even longer, but there shouldn’t be too much of a scar.”
At the mention of a scar, Oliver’s hand faltered on his track down her back and she pushed up on his chest to find him staring, tight lipped over her shoulder.
Diggle came into view around the side of the table and gave her a smile as he peeled the gloves from his hands. “You did good.”
“Thanks, John,” she rasped, her throat even more dry than it had been before.
Before she could ask, Roy was at her side, handing her a bottle of water and she took it gratefully. Diggle passed her two pills which she dutifully swallowed before she watched as he sent Oliver a look and then tugged on Roy’s arm.
“Let’s go see how our friend’s doing…” he said, leading a clearly confused Roy away, and Felicity let out a huff at the weak exit.
Once they were alone again, Oliver ran his hands down her arms, looking at her and making sure she was okay to continue sitting up on her own before he moved around the table again.
Silently, he set to work, applying a bandage to cover the stitches.
Before he could put the gauze pad over her stitches, she spoke up. “Can I see?”
Her voice wavered and she winced at how off she sounded, but she needed to see how bad it was for herself. She didn’t like not knowing.
Oliver didn’t answer, but soon there was a mirror being handed to her while he held one up behind her wound.
The skin was red and angry around the stitches that stretched for about an inch. It didn’t look good, but she’d seen Oliver and Diggle with worse.
When Oliver stiffened behind her, she realized she’d said that out loud and slammed her eyes shut.
She could practically feel the tension rolling off of him, as he placed the pad and began to tape up the sides. His touch was soft and gentle but she knew he was blaming himself, going over every detail to try and figure out what he could have done differently, and thinking about Helena’s carefully placed barbs.
“Stop blaming yourself,” she finally said, her voice ringing out in the silence.
His fingers stilled against her back before he merely grunted in response, and she made the mistake of trying to turn and look at him but the movement pulled at the stitches and she grimaced. His hand caught her elbow and stopped her.
“This wasn’t your fault. This was Helena’s fault,” she said through gritted teeth as she pulled in breaths. “I think she’s even crazier than she was before - if that’s possible…”
She was going for levity but the heavy breath she heard Oliver blow out told her she’d failed.
Warm fingers pressed the last piece of tape into place and then trailed up her back to the nape of her neck causing her to inhale sharply while a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine.
Long, strong fingers curled around her shoulder and came to rest over her collarbone, calloused pads shifting back and forth over the skin.
Felicity let her eyes slip shut and focused on the spirals of heat his touch sent through her. Despite the slow ache returning to her shoulder, the patterns he was tracing into her skin were setting it on fire, and she didn’t know if he even realized what he was doing but she didn’t want him to stop.
“I should have know she would show up after we caught her father,” he said tiredly, and she could almost see him running his free hand over his face.
She lifted her hand and placed it over his where his fingers were still moving and tugged hoping he’d understand her silent request. As much as she didn’t want him to stop his ministrations, her need to be able to see him, to look him in the eye, was far greater.
When he rounded the table, she smiled as he came into view, his hand never leaving her shoulder, just shifting along with his movement.
“This is not your fault,” she repeated, knowing she hadn’t gotten through the first time, and this time she held his gaze, blue eyes boring into hers as she spoke the words as evenly as she could despite her body’s desire for sleep and rest.
She felt him sigh and his free hand reached up to cup her cheek. “It’s not yours either…”
Felicity snorted. “She did manage to get through all my security so there might be some blame to place on me.”
She tried to shrug it off, but she knew he heard the disappointment in her tone when his thumb ran along her jaw.
“She’s been here before,” he reminded her. And she knew that despite her code changes, Helena had a way of making sure of not letting anything get in her way.
“I vividly remember her last time here,” she replied with a sigh. “She definitely knows which buttons to push…”
“Yeah,” Oliver said raggedly, his hand falling from her cheek as he visibly withdrew from her.
“Hey,” she stated, her voice steady as it could be. “I meant what I said. She’s wrong about you.”
“She wasn’t wrong about me then. I...When I was with her, I could barely function after the island and it was never going to work. But I wanted…”
“You wanted to help her. You wanted someone to share this with. Someone you didn’t have to hide from,” she finished for him, nodding in understanding.
He shifted on his feet, his shoulders sagging. “Yeah.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Oliver,” she said softly. “In fact, it just goes to prove how good of a person you are...you always want to help. You have such a good heart.”
He regarded her with an expression filled with such warmth and openness that she felt the breath leave her lungs momentarily. He shook his head as if in disbelief, still looking as if he had his own doubts about the person she saw and reconciling it with the person he thought himself to be.
She tried to reach out to him, but made the mistake of moving the arm of her injured shoulder and cried out, squeezing her eyes shut. When she canted forward from the pain, Oliver was their, firm wall of solid chest holding her up as his arms fell around her waist and held her close.
“Breathe,” he murmured against her ear and she worked hard to pull in deep breath after deep breath until the pain abated somewhat.
When the roar had left her ears, she began to be able to hear the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. The sound comforted her and she sighed into his embrace.
She wasn’t prepared for the feel of Oliver’s fingers trailing up and down her bare back. As the pain ebbed, she shivered at the sensation, the tendrils of heat flowing from the places on her back and swirling into her belly.
Her entire brain focused on the heat of his palm dragging across her skin, his fingers tracing the ridges of her spine.
Strong arms tightened around her when she trembled again, and she felt the puff of breath against her ear.
A second later, he set her back, almost reluctantly, his hands moving up, careful of her injury and running down her forearms as he stepped away.
He disappeared behind her and Felicity felt as if all the energy had been sucked from her. A yawn escaped, her eyes growing heavy as she felt something soft and warm being laid gently over her shoulders.
A smile flitted to her lips at the sight of the garment, the same one she’d helped him into so many times after patching him up.
Oliver’s scent surrounded her and she inhaled deeply. and turned her cheek into the material. One of Oliver’s hands squeezed her good shoulder and she felt the heat of him at her back when he leaned in.
“I’ll stay back here. Slip off your shirt and put this on...I’ll help with the one sleeve,” he told her quietly, and the intimacy of their position and his voice wasn’t lost on her.
Butterflies erupted in her stomach and she took in a halting breath as she shifted her good shoulder and he lifted his hand, letting the ruined blouse fall from her arm. The cold air hit her skin and she quickly slid her arm into the sleeve Oliver held open for her. As soon as she tried to move her other arm, she knew it was going to cause a problem.
Although she could feel the meds beginning to work, the throbbing ache that tore through her whenever she moved had her sucking in a deep breath.
“Easy,” Oliver whispered, and then he paused before continuing. “Can I help?”
With tears stinging her eyes, she nodded, biting down on her lower lip.
All she could hear was the shift of clothes and the pounding of her own heart. His fingers landed on her upper arm, catching the edge of the material and easing it down, exposing her flesh with each inch.
WIth one warm hand on her elbow, he worked the garment over her fingers. She swallowed thickly as his hand skimmed up the length of her arm again, this time fingering the thin strap of her bra.
“You want this back up?” he asked, his voice throaty and deep.
The memory of the spike of pain when he’d pulled it over her wound in the first place made her wince and shake her head. Thinking about having to get the undergarment off later had her wondering how she was going to manage. She was quickly realizing how hard this injury was going to make doing even the simplest things like getting dressed.
“No, I want it off,” she mumbled, but when she felt him still behind her, she knew he’d heard.
She squeezed her eyes shut as her mouth worked up and down once. “I mean...it’s got to come off sooner of later and it hurt earlier and I can’t really move my arm which means it’s going to be hard to do it by myself and I have your hands right now…”
She thought she heard a strangled sound come from his throat as she clamped down on her lips to stop her rambling but she couldn’t be sure. The moan that escaped her lips when she felt his hand beneath the hoodie, inching it’s way up her back. With a swift yet gentle flick of his wrist, he undid the clasp and the fabric loosened around her shoulders. Sighing, she dropped her head down and slipped her good arm out of the sleeve and then out of the bra strap.
Oliver helped her with her other arm, slipping it down the long expanse and making goosebumps break out over her flesh. When it was finally over her fingertips, it fell to her lap. Looking down, she realized the position she was in - naked from the waist up, her bra in her lap and Oliver’s torso pressed up against her back.
Heat spiraled to her core and she took a deep breath as a flush heated her cheeks.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t realize Oliver was slipping the other sleeve up her arm until it was laid gently over her shoulder and he grasped both edges and pulled them together around her middle waiting for her to take them and zip them up.
Her hand fell over his, but instead of taking over his hold, she clamped her fingers around his.
She felt his chest expand against her back and let herself close the remaining distance, leaning her head against his shoulder and letting his arms fully encompass her from behind. He shifted his body so her injured shoulder wasn’t touching his and then she felt him release the breath he’d been holding and drop his head to hers.
Her name was a whispered plea from his lips and she turned her head into the column of his throat.
Fingers tangled with hers and she suddenly didn’t care that the hoodie wasn’t zipped up, and that only their clasped hands held the edges together. All that mattered was that she felt safe and warm and whole.
She heard and felt his release of breath and then his fingers releasing hers and then moving, the sound of the zipper being pulled up moments later.
His lips brushed over her hairline before he spoke low in her ear. “Let’s get you home. You need rest.”
She murmured in response but didn’t open her eyes or move away from him.
With a soft sigh, he ran his hands down her legs, over the tops of her thighs and then back up to her hands, squeezing them softly. “Hey...sit up for me for a minute. Then I’ll get you home.”
Forcing her eyes open, she blinked, and let him sit her upright, his hands staying on her hips until she gave him a nod, letting him know she’d be okay on her own.
The meds were kicking in fast, and along with her adrenaline crash she could barely keep her eyes open despite the agonizing ache in her shoulder.
A few minutes later, Oliver was back, this time in front of her. He had his brown leather jacket on and her purse in his hand. Placing it beside her, he reached up and cupped her cheek. She nuzzled into it, the events of the day and the meds the reason she gave for letting her defenses fall and lean into him.
“Getting dressed tomorrow morning is going to be hard without you,” she suddenly frowning as she realized she’d could barely move her arm without any pain.
She saw an eyebrow raise, and realized what she’d said.
Oliver leaned in, his mouth only inches from hers. “First of all, you aren’t coming to work tomorrow.”
Her mouth opened to protest, but his finger stopped her, pressing against her lips. “And second, who said I was taking you home and leaving?”
Her brow furrowed as she processed his words and then her stomach flipped.
“Oliver…”
He leaned in a brushed a kiss over her forehead. “You can argue with me in the morning. For now, you need rest. Let’s go.”
Barely able to keep her eyes open, she acquiesced and didn’t protest at all when he slipped his arm around her back and under her knees, swinging her gently into his arms as he headed for the stairs, grabbing her purse on the way.
Her head found the crook of his neck and she let her eyes drift close, listening to the sound of his heartbeat steadily beneath her ear.
When he set her in the passenger seat of her car, she allowed him to buckle the seatbelt around her and waited until he was folded into her tiny space. She curled her body towards him, wanting to keep the pressure off her shoulder. After starting the car and pulling out of the back parking lot of Verdant, he laid one hand on her knee and kept it there the entire drive back to her apartment.
Half-asleep, she felt the car stop and the engine being turned off, but didn’t stir until he lifted her once more. She managed to remember to mumble that her keys were in the side pocket before they started up the steps.
Once inside, he set her keys and purse on the side table and headed straight for her bedroom. Had she been more awake, she might have questioned his intimate knowledge of her apartment, but instead, she just sighed against his neck and felt his body tighten, his fingers clenching as his breath rushed over her ear.
The rustling of her sheets could be heard and then he lowered her to the bed, his strong arms slipping from around her. She immediately felt the loss of him and reached out, her hand catching his arm and trailing down until her fingers could tangle with his and keep him close.
She felt the bed dip at her hip and opened her eyes to half-mast, finding him gazing down at her with the most open expression she’d ever seen.
In the darkness of her room, she could make out the fear warring with the desire, the worry raging against the love.
Calloused fingers brushed against her temple and she sighed, humming at the contact. Her body felt light, although the dull ache in her shoulder was still very much present. He’d managed to lay her on her side her to keep pressure off her injured shoulder.
“The couch is uncomfortable,” she murmured a few moments later, breaking the steady silence in the room. “Stay here.”
She heard the breath that left his lungs, as if her words pulled the last of his barriers down. His body canted towards her and he pressed a firm kiss to her temple where his fingers had just been.
Her stomach dropped and flipped, a low swooping feeling causing her to pull in oxygen as she tightened her hold on his fingers.
“Stay.”
The sound of his boots being toed off filled the room, and then he pulled away, fingers leaving hers as he slid out of his jacket and shucked his shirt over his head.
“Lose the pants,” she breathed as she shifted over in the bed, and he froze, head shooting up to look at her, catching her gaze.
She frowned, “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” she asked in her half-asleep, drug-induced haze, and then chuckled. “Well, it’s nothing I haven’t seen...unless you don’t have anything on under there.”
Her cheeks flushed at that thought and she saw the way his brow rose, the corner of his mouth crooking up.
Undoing the buckle, he shrugged off his cargo pants to reveal black boxer briefs and Felicity was thankful for the darkness to cover her growing blush. It was one thing to see him like this when he was changing in the Foundry. It was another to have him crawling into bed with her like this. And, yet, she’s the one who had invited him to do so and she wasn’t going to take it back. Not at all.
The bed dipped and he laid back, the heat of him immediately seeping into her sheets and radiating outward. Felicity settled into her pillow, as he tucked one hand behind his head. She was exhausted, but every time she was almost asleep, her back twinged and she shifted, trying to find a better position. If she was on her side, it pulled at the stitches, and if she leaned too far forward on her stomach, her neck ached. After shifting for the fifth time, she felt Oliver move next to her. One thick arm, slipped under her head while the other found her hand.
“Come ‘ere,” he murmured sleepily and helped her gently slide across her sheets until she was flush against him. With most of her body leaning on his, the stitches on her back didn’t pull.
Her cheek pressed into his chest and she could feel the mottled flesh of one of his scars beneath her skin, but instead of moving away from it, she turned her face so her lips brushed over it. The slightly elevated beat of his heart pounded beneath her ear and she smiled, thankful that she wasn’t the only one affected by the intimacy of their position.
“How did I end up with the least amount of clothes on?” he asked softly and she could hear the smile in his voice.
She smiled, turning her head into his chest, her cheeks heating but didn’t bother to hide her laugh. “Ah, you discovered my devious plan,” she replied, her voice muffled and slightly slurred, “Finally out of my dreams and into my bed.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt the air in the room shift. The blood pounded through her ears and she felt the words spilling out trying to fix what she’d admitted.
“Not that my dreams had anything to do with me getting shot by Helena - or at least not those dreams. Nightmares, yes, but dreams with you without clothes...not that I’ve had many of those…” With each word, she knew she was just making it worse and her face burned.
She was never more grateful for his hoarse, emotion-filled “Felicity,” than right then.
Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped that the bed would just open up and swallow her whole.
The rumble of his chest let her know he was speaking and she strained to hear over the loud beating of her heart. “You’re not the only one who’s had dreams…”
Her eyes blinked open and if she thought she could push herself up without causing herself a lot of pain, she would have. As it was, his arm anchoring her to him kept her firmly in place and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
His hand fell to her hip and his thumb began moving in slow, soft circles, eventually slipping beneath the material of his grey hoodie. The breath caught in her throat as the heat of his fingers seeped into her skin. She unconsciously pressed further into him, and he released a puff of air that flowed over her forehead.
“Oliver…” she questioned softly, fighting the sleep that was pulling at the edges of her consciousness.
“Sleep,” he whispered, his free hand moving to hold the hand that rested against his stomach. “We can talk tomorrow…”
And she did. The steady thrum of his heart beneath her ear, wrapped securely in his arms.