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It’s hard not to let it bother her, the way Oliver’s eyes track every swish and sway of the girl’s hips as she dances. Felicity doesn’t know the pretty redhead’s name, doesn’t really want to, but it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she’s absolutely stunning. The way she moves on the dance floor is smooth and fluid, body rolling like it’s made of water and waves. She’s got the eyes of nearly every man in the club, more than a few of the women as well, and Oliver is definitely among them.
Felicity isn’t sure if it’s her own jealousy or if she’s actually seeing it, but it seems like Oliver’s attention is returned, the redhead’s eyes meeting his with a deliberate swing of her hips and a wicked quirk of her mouth.
Envy isn’t an emotion Felicity enjoys feeling, especially when it comes to other women. She’s just not that kind of person, the type to get angry at or hate a woman simply because she catches the eye of someone Felicity happens to be sort of/kind of dating. It’s catty and immature, and Felicity wants no part of it.
Oliver is attractive, he’s going to catch a few gazes and she’s normally okay with that. Hell, she’s even okay with him looking back, so long as all he does is look.
Still, she can’t shake the green tint hazing her thoughts. Turning her back to the dance floor, Felicity picks up the shot waiting for her, tosses it back and hopes the strawberry vodka will wash away some of the bitterness on the back of her tongue.
"Hey Blondie, rough night?" a voice says, right next to her ear so that it can be heard over the pounding music.
Felicity swivels around to find Roy standing beside her, elbow propped on the bar and his mouth curved in a lazy grin.
"You could say that." she says, smiling back and eagerly pulling Roy into a hug. "I didn’t think you’d be here."
He shrugs, waving two fingers at the bartender to get her attention, motioning at Felicity’s empty shot glass.
"I wasn’t planning on it, but it’s better than sitting around brooding over my ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend." He smirks, sliding onto the empty stool beside her. "I like to leave all the heavy brooding to Oliver."
Felicity’s expression must say something she doesn’t because Roy frowns at her, slides the refilled shooter toward her as soon as the bartender is done pouring.
"Want to talk about it?" he asks, then tosses back his own.
"No." Felicity answers decisively, downing the drink. She smacks her lips, licking the lingering sweetness from them.
"This wouldn’t have anything to do with earlier, would it?" Felicity stiffens, shoulders going tight, but Roy bumps his knee against her thigh softly. "That fight sounded pretty brutal…"
She knows he’s leaving it open ended, that he wants her to talk to him, but remembering the way Oliver raised his voice in actual, legitimate anger at her and made her feel like she’d done something wrong, makes her eyes prickle and she refuses to be the sad girl crying at the bar over a guy.
"Come on, Roy." she half pleads. "We’re here to celebrate Thea’s birthday, can we not ruin a perfectly good night by talking about things I absolutely do not want to talk about?"
Roy looks like he wants to argue for all of a second, but then his expression shifts, a light going off behind his eyes.
"Alright, fine. I’ll make you a deal." he offers, waving the bartender back over. Felicity lifts expectant brows. "We don’t have to talk about it, but that means you can’t think about it, either. You and I are going to get drunk, dance our faces off, and not think about the things we’re not thinking about. Deal?"
Felicity smiles, relief swamping through her. “Deal.” she agrees.
"Good." Roy grins, then reaches out a hand to stop the bartender before she can wander away again. "You’d better leave the bottle."
*
By the time Roy and Felicity drag themselves off the dance floor, the club has considerably emptied, her feet are throbbing and her dress is sticking to her sweat-slicked skin, much the same way Roy’s button up is doing to him, but they’re both beaming. They each down an entire bottle of water while leaning against the bar, and Felicity is just about to suggest another round of shots, when her ankle gives out and she pitches forward.
Roy’s reflexes are quick and he catches her around the waist before she can ht the floor, but she ends up plastered against his chest, giggling like a school girl.
"Sorry!" she gasps between laughs, though she throws one arm around his shoulder and smacks a kiss to his cheek.
Roy chuckles, the sound rumbling under the hand Felicity has pressed to his sternum. “Anytime, Blondie.”
She’s smiling up at him, though just barely since he’s not much taller than her when she’s in heels, when she feels a hand slide into the small of her back. She squeaks and jumps, spinning around to find Oliver trying to pretend he’s not scowling but failing spectacularly.
"Hey." he says roughly, eyes flicking over her shoulder at Roy. "Are you ready to head out?"
Felicity blinks confused eyes at him, trying to ignore the heat his appearance generates in the pit of her stomach. It’s the unbuttoned look, she thinks, that makes her mouth water. Oliver loosened a few buttons throughout the night and she can see the neckline of his undershirt peeking out beneath it. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hair’s a little mussed, and Felicity has to lean back into Roy’s solid presence to keep herself from launching forward.
"No, I’m good." she shakes her head, regretting it the second the world slides out of focus around her. She blinks hard to straighten everything back out. "I’ll catch a cab or something."
Oliver sighs like he knew that was coming. “Felicity, come on. Let me take you home.”
"I said no, Oliver." she snaps, a fresh wave of anger flooding her chest. "I’m going to stay here with Roy, drink until I can’t see straight if I want to, and then I will find my own way back to my apartment.”
Oliver’s eyes flash, presumably meeting Roy’s over the top of her head. It only serves to piss her off more; she hates feeling as though she’s been dismissed, as though Oliver thinks he even has the right.
"I’m taking her home. I think you two have had more than enough fun for one evening." Oliver tells Roy, who stiffens a fraction up against Felicity’s back.
Felicity doesn’t like the way he says “fun” like it’s a dirty word, doesn’t like the implication behind it, but she doesn’t get the chance to speak up before Roy is responding.
"Oliver, you know that I respect you and everything, but you aren’t taking Felicity anywhere she doesn’t want to go." Roy tells him calmly, laying a protective hand to her hip that Oliver absolutely does not miss.
Oliver’s mouth turns up sardonically on one side, his eyes burning, but Felicity is interjecting before the two of them can start throwing barbs they can’t take back.
"Look, Oliver, you made it pretty clear that I’m your girlfriend, not your wife. So, let me make myself clear, too; You’re my boyfriend, not my husband, and most definitely not my master.” Her voice has gone up a few decibels but she can’t bring herself to care. “I will leave when I’m ready to leave, and not a minute before.”
Oliver’s cheeks are going red with temper, but he knows arguing with her when she’s this angry is pointless, so there isn’t much he can actually do besides stop trying.
"Fine." he grinds out, jaw clenched rigidly. "I will be right downstairs, though, and I want you to let me know when you’re ready to leave. I’ll take you to your apartment, but I will be taking you home myself."
Felicity opens her mouth to argue but Oliver’s already stalking away, spine snapped in a hard line.
"Well, that went about as well as I thought it would." Felicity huffs a laugh, turning to look at Roy.
"Yeah," he admits, frowning contemplatively though his eyes sparkled with humor, "I was convinced that was gonna come to blows."
"Oh stop. He’d never actually hit you, not like that. He’s just pissed that I love you more at the moment." Felicity snorts, slapping a hand down on the bar and climbing up onto a stool. "Now, come on Harper, how ‘bout those shots?"