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“I would never have survived that island,” Felicity says, her shoulders slumping as she collapses onto to her office chair. “Life without technology is boring.”
“You could help me arrange my arrows,” Oliver offers, glancing over at her. She screws up her face in disgust at his suggestion. He barely manages to keep himself from laughing out loud, instead focusing his attention on the arrows before him. He moves the flashlight to the next set of arrows, his hands working as efficiently as possible in the dim light. The power had gone out two hours ago, Felicity’s phone telling her it was a city wide blackout before losing the last of its battery power.
It’s the first time they’ve been alone together for an extended period of time since his fight with Slade. Felicity never brings it up and neither does he, but it hangs between them, those three little words changing nothing and everything at the same time.
“Okay,” Oliver says, when he hears her sigh again. “I have an idea.”
He grabs his flashlight, moving to the far corner of their new lair where boxes are stacked. It takes him a minute, but eventually he finds it, pulling out the bottle of vodka and turning to hold it up triumphantly. She smiles when she sees it, sitting up a little straighter as he pulls over a stool. Unscrewing the cap, he offers her the bottle first.
“No glasses?” She asks, taking the bottle.
“Scared I’ve got cooties?” He asks with a twitch of his eyebrows he swears isn’t supposed to be flirtatious. But her eyes drop to his mouth when he says it and suddenly he wishes he hadn’t spoken.
She ignores him, putting her mouth around the bottle before tipping it up. Her face screws up as the liquor touches her mouth. Then she’s handing him the bottle while her free hand wipes at her mouth, “That stuff is strong.”
He tries not to think about the lipstick residue she’s left on the bottle, taking a deep pull before handing her back the bottle. He shakes his head a little, knowing it was going to be a long night.
“Wait,” Felicity says an hour later, a huge smile on her face as she tries to stop herself from laughing. He smiles back at her, the pleasant feeling of the alcohol making it seem like a perfectly acceptable thing to do. “You actually did that? Did Thea ever know?”
“No,” Oliver says, laughing along with her. “And you can never tell her! She would never forgive me.”
“Okay, okay,” Felicity says as her laughter dies down. “I won’t ever tell her the truth about her beloved goldfish.”
“Thank you,” he says, not bothering to check the smile on his face. Felicity is relaxed, laughing even and he thinks it’s the best sight in the world.
“It’s actually pretty sweet,” Felicity says, her eyes softening. “You’re a good big brother.”
Oliver sighs at that, because he doesn’t feel like a good big brother. In fact he feels like a pretty crappy one. But he returns Felicity’s smile because it’s Felicity and he can’t not smile at her.
“Oliver,” she says, she’s looking at her hands in her lap, her tone more serious and a little sad.
“Yeah?” He asks, his heart sinking at the speculation about what’s to follow.
“It’s been almost four months…since Slade,” she says hesitantly, lifting her head but still not looking him in the eye. “When are you going to move on?”
“Move on?” He asks, reeling back a little at her unexpected question. “Move on from what?”
“I mean, we won. You won,” she says and she’s looking him the eye now. He wants to look away but he can’t, the honesty there is paralyzing. “You stopped Slade, saved Laurel. When are you going to take the victory?”
“I don’t—“
“Oliver,” she cuts him off. “When are you going to make a move?”
His entire body freezes at her words, his mouth hanging open unable to form words as he tries to figure out a response.
“Laurel has made it pretty clear she wants to try to fix things between you two,” Felicity goes on, the tension leaving his body completely at her words. “You two have become quite the team. You’re catching the criminals, she’s locking them away.”
“Felicity,” he starts, but he doesn’t know what to say or how to finish it.
“I know. I know,” she says dropping her eyes to her lap again. “It’s none of my business. But I want you to be happy. Things are finally calming down. The city likes Arrow now. The crime rates are lower.”
She pauses then and he hopes she’s done with her speech. When he doesn’t say anything, she looks up at him. It’s all there. She means every word. Not for the first time the guilt crushes him. What he did? what he put her through? It weighs on him. Weighs on him that she doesn’t know the truth, doesn’t even know the half of it.
“We’ve fought so hard to save this city, to save Laurel,” she says. But he can read the subtext, they, she, has sacrificed so much to save the city. “What’s the point if you aren’t happy?”
“I’m happy,” he lies easily. She tilts her head, seeing right through his lie as usual. So he amends his statement, “I’m a work-in-progress.”
She laughs at that, reaching forward to grab the bottle from his hands. She’s laughing when she says, “Oliver, even works-in-progress need a reason to fight.”
He has a reason, he thinks. It’s sitting in front him, drunk on Russian vodka and trying to convince him to ask another woman on a date.