Work Text:
When it finally happens, it’s more of a gentle coming together than an explosion of pent up tension and emotions.
It happens like this.
Felicity grabs her sweater, purse and her keys. Like always.
Oliver nods a goodnight. Smiles that small smile - the one that says, you are always on my mind. I always want you. I love you. But that also says, you know this. I know this. Nothing has changed.
Like always.
And as he turns to grab his things, Felicity turns to leave.
Except she…
Doesn’t.
There’s really no reason why she decides to put her purse back down on that night specifically instead of all the other ones.
But she looks at those stairs, pictures climbing them, getting into her car and driving home, by herself. Her bed is soft and warm and waiting. But it’s also lonely.
And Felicity just - decides.
Oliver comes up behind her and there, at the foot of the stairs, she gets up on her toes and kisses him.
There’s no preamble. It’s not a furious clash of tongues and teeth.
She just kisses him. And when she pulls away, she runs her tongue along her bottom lip, savoring what his kiss tastes like when she’s the one that wanted it, when it’s not goodbye or make believe.
It’s nice.
And she takes him home with her.
It’s… very nice.
For the first time in a while, her bed is more than just soft and warm and waiting, and when she wakes up to sunlight streaming in through the window, to find Oliver still asleep next to her, she considers that maybe, it could become his too.
It does.
It happens like this.
Oliver bumps his hip against hers, watching her brush her teeth in the bathroom mirror, setting his own toothbrush in the cup on the counter.
She grins and spits, bumping right back.
He’s still pleasantly sore. He’s never had a one year anniversary before, but he’s pretty sure he did a good job celebrating last night.
There’s still a part of him that that doesn’t think that the novelty of being able to kiss her whenever he wants, to touch her wherever he wants, will ever wear off, and he watches her walk back into her bedroom, and for a moment it’s like seeing double, because he thinks, our bedroom when it isn’t. Not yet.
He shares a loft with Thea and a lair with an entire team, but he wants to share his life with her.
And really it’s just another morning, last night’s celebrations aside, and Oliver watches Felicity dig through her underwear drawer for something comfortable to wear, and he knows she’s going to pull out her old ratty pair with the flowers on it before she even does and he just-
“Marry me?”
She straightens up, ratty underwear in hand, eyes wide in complete surprise.
And Oliver laughs,
It’s a story they’ll tell their children one day.
God he wants to have kids with her.
And he will.
It happens like this.
A part of Felicity always assumed that when she and Oliver decided to have kids it would be…
Easy.
It isn’t.
Eight months of trying before they discover that there are problems on both ends. And then another eight months of treatments.
Felicity has gotten used to disappointment. Used to that single red line every month. Used to the moment of expectant hope she catches in Oliver’s eyes just before she shakes her head when she steps out of the bathroom.
This is the last time. Felicity hasn’t told Oliver yet. But it’s the last time.
Which is why she doesn’t wait for him to get home before taking the test. She needs a few hours to grieve, because she knows - it’s never going to happen.
Then she can face Oliver.
And there’s really no reason that anything should be different this time around, nothing to indicate that this month, the last month she’s going to be doing this to herself, would be any different.
Felicity throws the test away after a quick glance and ends up digging it back up out of the little pink trash can in their bathroom.
Because there’s a second red line.
When Oliver comes home there are five pregnancy tests laid out on the dining room table, all positive, and Felicity is standing next to them, twisting her hands in front of her.
She’s practically vibrating, and her eyes are puffy, and her lips are chapped, but Oliver knows what her sad tears look like, and these aren’t it. He drops his things, letting his jacket slide from his shoulders, and then he’s gripping her arms, and the two of them fall into each other and then down to the floor.
They’re both crying because this was the dream they thought they weren’t going to be allowed to have.
And they are.
~*~
Two souls find each other in a world full of turmoil and pain and ease each other’s suffering.
It happens all the time.
But for them, it happens like this.
A laptop.
A list.
A bullet wound.
Friends. Partners. Lovers.
Vigilante and hacker.
Husband and wife.
Family.
And it’s almost just like anybody else’s story.
Only it’s theirs.