Chapter Text
The rest of the team had gone ahead to their posts, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone in the bunker, giving them the chance to say their goodbyes. She’s watching him gather the last of his gear, sees him transfer the familiar pouch into the pocket of his suit the way he’s done for months. She knows what’s in that pouch. She’s never seen it, but she’s felt the shape through his leathers, through the fabric of his suits. It’s always kept in his left breast pocket, where she often rests her hand, where she automatically reaches now. And suddenly she doesn’t want to face another battle with this not-so-secret secret between them.
She pats lightly, once, twice, before settling her hand firmly against his chest. Her voice is low, only the slightest tremble running through it, “We’re going to get through this. Just like we always do.”
He’d frozen at her touch, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her center him in the way only she can, but his eyes pop open when she speaks. And when she continues he feels his heart stop for just a moment, “And when we do, when Darhk is gone, you’re going to take that ring you’ve been carrying around for months out of these pockets, and put it where it belongs.”
Oliver stares at her for a full minute, that same tilt of the head he’s studied her with from day one, unsurprised that she’s figured it out. Watching her, seeing the love and faith that’s always so present in her eyes, he finally realizes there’s no perfect time for this proposal. There’s always going to be another criminal, always going to be another disaster, and he doesn’t want to face another one with this ring in his pocket. It’s going to find its rightful place on her finger.
He doesn’t get down on one knee, but he takes off the hood and slides up his mask. There’s no time for the flowery proposal speech he’s had running through his mind for the last year, the one that crept in the day she’d agreed to run away from him and has been added to for each wonderful moment and new challenge they’ve shared, but he’s going to make the time. “Felicity, I-”
A tear slips down her cheek and she doesn’t let him get through the first sentence, before she’s nodding and throwing herself into his arms. There will be time for him to say those words when this is over. She feels his sigh of relief puff against her cheeks as she dusts kisses all over his face, wipes the single tear streaking through the grease paint under his eyes before pressing her lips to his.
The moment is broken by the crackle of the comms clicking on as the team reaches their destinations. He slips the ring on her finger, she slips his mask back down over his eyes, and they take one more long moment to just be before he kisses her forehead and slips out the door, his hand lingering in hers as long as possible, fingers running along hers as the distance grows.