Work Text:
Originally posted HERE for the MTV Ship of The Year 2015 Awards!! Go vote for Olicity now!
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Felicity looked at her phone. She blinked, found her glasses, and looked again.
Weird. 2:30am? What had woken her up?
She laid motionless, listening, not scared, just curious. A faint scrape and then...a cough?
She sat up. No, not fear at realizing there was suddenly another person in her home. One, the "scrape" had been a key turned in the lock. Two, the cough was one she knew well. Three, the footsteps were ones she had memorized a while ago.
"Oliver. What." She flopped back down onto her pillows. "Are you doing here?"
He stood in the doorway to her room, all lurky and dim.
"Uh, so, I kinda got kicked out?" He sounded tired, embarrassed maybe; so Felicity sighed and sat back up.
"Lyla finally kicked you out, huh?" She reached over and clicked on the bedside light. She winced and covered her eyes. "I'm surprised she lasted as long as two months."
Oliver made some sort of croaky agreement sound but said nothing. Made no movement at all. Felicity, blinking rapidly to combat the light, looked over at him.
He was staring right at her, an odd expression growing over his face.
"What?!" she said loudly. (It is too damn early for deciphering silent Oliver!) "Speak!" she finally demanded.
"Uh...I...you..." He motioned with his chin and she followed his gaze down to her extremely skimpy lace pajama tank, barely covering her clearly braless breasts.
"Oliver!" She tried to yank the covers up but a fist lost its grip and flew back to punch herself in the nose. Hard. "Ooowwww ohmymotherfucker OOWWie owie!"
She was crying and in pain--a blinding white, hot, stabbing pain from her nose to her brain and back to her eyeballs. "Fffffuuuuuuck-it-HURTS!"
And then she felt cool hands tip her head back and pinch her nose.
"OW!" She swatted at his arms.
"Sorry, just seeing if you broke your own nose or not," he whispered soothingly, but she could clearly hear the smile in his voice.
"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" New tears welled up and spilled down her face; pain and embarrassment and tiredness...
His fingers, rough yet gentle, slowly wiped each tear away, cradling her jaw, and keeping her head tipped.
"Here," and he pressed a wad of tissue into her hand. "It's bleeding a little. I'll go get ice."
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About 15 minutes later, Felicity entered her living room silently. She was now dressed in a long sweatshirt and holding an ice pack on her nose. Oliver stood up and smiled. "Sorry I barged in and made you punch yourself, Felicity."
She rolled her eyes, which oddly hurt, and she moaned before saying, "Yeah, well, I learned long ago that knocking or texting or calling are not in your skill set, so... whatever."
Silence rolled between them and back a few times. Her entire head felt like one great bruise. She didn't want to be unwelcoming; Oliver and his family were going through quite a bad time... but still, he had made her punch herself!!
"I take it the lawyers haven't settled stuff yet?"
He nodded. "Yeah, still living on pocket change and the ki--"
"Do NOT say the kindness of women folk," she pointed a finger at him.
He grinned. "I was going to of friends."
She slumped down onto her couch. He sat, too, at the opposite end, watching her carefully.
"Oliver."
"Yes?"
"Stop staring."
"Sorry."
Silence again. Felicity's brain registered that her eyes had closed but didn't care enough to change that. They hurt less closed.
"Felicity?"
"Hmm?"
"You can go back to bed, I'll just sleep on the couch and figure something out tomorrow, uh, later today."
"Ok."
Pause.
"Felicity?"
"Now what?"
Oliver chuckled lightly.
"That's a nice sound," she mumbled. "I wish I got to hear that sound more...is nice..."
The cushions dipped at her hip; hands pushed their way under her knees and behind her back; warmth and strength and safety held her close and then cool sheets and a gentle hand brushing hair off her sore face.
"Good night, Felicity," said a soft, deep voice. She smiled, enjoying the way he said her name so close to her skin.
Her brain was awake enough to know it didn't want that comforting scent and warmth, his voice and touch to leave. Her hand shot out, found his, and pulled.
"...awfully uncomfortable...you'll get sore neck...stay..."
And even though a small part of HIS brain was warning him no, Oliver ignored it, kicked off his shoes, and climbed into Felicity's bed.
"She? Idz bedder," she whispered into his chest as she snuggled closer.
Oliver swallowed a thick ball of doubt. He slowly let his arms pull her tight, let his own mind and muscles relax.
"Much better," he breathed into her forehead. "Felicity, much, much better."
They both drifted to sleep with happy little smiles only inches apart from the other...