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A/N: post-4x01 fic, because clearly Diggle is not going to make this OTA reunion easy on Olicity. Also because maybe he has another reason for continually reminding Oliver about Baby Sara. Also, because Oliver basically told the brunch buds that he wants babies.
Title from “Deuteronomy 2:10” by The Mountain Goats.
Claim My Place Beneath the Sky
When they decide to come back to Star City for good (can you really return to a place you’ve never been?), Felicity anticipates a rough re-entry. She expects the newly-restructured team to have a difficult time accommodating the man who once was their de facto leader, expects it may be slow, stubborn going at first. What she doesn’t expect is John Diggle, antagonist.
He’s surly and sarcastic – to both of them – combative and available only on his terms, though he still swears his dedication to saving the city. And he never misses a chance to bring up Sara, to rub Oliver’s face into the too-recent darkness that still hangs over him like a phantom.
She knows Oliver deserves the blame, but she also knows that John’s ire is at near-toxic levels having had a summer – one he did not spend sprawled on a beach in Indonesia – to stew on the betrayal leveled by someone he considered a brother.
But his words are corrosive and every time she watches Oliver curl in on himself in guilt, her heart breaks a little more. On one particularly stressful night, maybe a week into their return, she finally snaps.
“I don’t have time for this.” John’s halfway out the door already, dismissing Felicity’s request for the team to debrief on Damien Darhk’s latest threat. “I’ve got to get home…”
He looks right at Oliver then, adding with a sneer, “To my wife, and my daughter.”
“John, enough.” To his credit, the soldier in Digg doesn’t let him flinch, but Felicity sees his eyes startle at her harsh tone.
Good, she thinks. Let him be startled. She leaves him hanging and turns to Oliver, who’s standing silent in street clothes, staring at his feet. She approaches him slowly, lacing her fingers through his and pressing her lips to his shoulder
“Can you give us a second?”
It takes a second for Oliver to drag his thoughts back to the present, but when he does, his eyes meets hers, asking questions he doesn’t have to voice. After a moment, satisfied, he gives her a solemn nod.
The door’s barely shut behind him before she’s whirling back around to face Digg.
“This has to stop, John,” she says, not bothering to contain the anger in her tone. “You need to stop.”
John just sighs, eyes rolling, and she’s certain she’s never been this furious with him.
“That was an unbelievably cruel thing you did at the train station the last week.” The words come out with barbs on them and that gets his attention. “And the worst part is that you know it’s not even true.”
It’s not easy to catch a man like John Diggle off his guard, but Felicity thinks she might have him.
“What, did you forget you were on vigilante business?” she continues, spitting vitriol as he just stares, not looking nearly guilty enough in her opinion. “You were wearing a goddamn comm.”
It will be a long time before the tear in her heart heals, the one that had ripped clean open when she heard Digg’s hurtful diatribe to Oliver over the communication link. She’s not usually an “eye for an eye” type, but at that moment, picturing how Oliver’s face must have crumbled, she wanted to hurt John Diggle for the first time since she met the man.
“I know you’re angry, but that really was awful, telling him he can’t trust, that he can’t love.” Her voice is measured, shaking only a little as she remembers feeling so helpless, hearing their exchange from miles away in the lair, alone when the only place she wanted to be was by Oliver’s side, swearing that it wasn’t true until he remembered to believe it. “You’re one of the few people in this world who understands how deeply he loves, how dare you level that against him!”
“Felicity, so much of what I thought I understood was erased the second I walked into that apartment last year and heard my daughter crying.” When John finally finds his words, they’re thick with emotion, which softens the edge of her righteous rage.
“I know that. That was unforgivable,” she concedes just a little. “But so was what you said.”
He just sighs again. “What do you want from me, Felicity? I really do need to get home.”
“You do not have to forgive him. You don’t have to be nice, or even civil.” She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, needing this next part to come out as close to a threat as possible. “But you will stop trying to break him.”
“I’m not…”
“You are,” she interrupts. “Like it or not, John, you still have that power. You’re still his brother.”
“Felicity…” She’s hit a nerve somewhere, because it’s the softest she’s heard Digg’s voice since they’ve been back. His tone opens the floodgates to the torrent of emotion that hits whenever she allows herself to consider that allegiance to Oliver could mean losing John forever. She desperately hopes it doesn’t come to that.
“If you can’t do it for me, do it for the city,” She wants to sound bitter, but her resolve cracks when she considers a life without the presence of John Diggle. She met him less than five years ago, but he’s already one of her life’s central characters. It’s one of the reasons she’d never really been able to take life in Ivy Town that seriously, things felt more than a little incomplete without the rest of her team – her family.
“I hate feeling like I have to take a side,” she continues, cutting him off before he can say what they both know: that she already has. “But this team – our team – we can’t pick. We need you both.”
That’s where she finally gets him, his shoulders relax just slightly on a reluctant “Fine.” It’s not the argument she hoped would win him over, but it will do for now.
She turns back to her desk to grab her things, feeling like they should spit in their hands and shake on it or something. Really, she’s wishing she could hug him, but she’s not sure if they’re back there yet.
“We both know you’ve got the power to break him too, Felicity.” John’s voice startles her and when she turns back to him, he’s got a look she can’t quite read. “So, you should know I wasn’t just bringing up Sara to remind him of what he did.”
He pauses. When she doesn’t follow, he gives her a more pointed look.
“It’s easy to hurt someone,” he explains on a heavy sigh, “when you have the thing they want most.”
Her whole body stills when she makes the connection, willing the revelation away for just a moment. “I don't…John that’s not why…”
"It is. I know he feels guilty,” Digg explains in a heavy voice. “We both know that he’ll carry that for the rest of his life, even if I don’t see to it.”
“But it’s more than that,” he continues. “When I talk about Sara and he looks at you, that’s something else entirely.”
There’s no mimosa to choke on this time, but if the moment weren’t still so fraught with emotion, she might laugh out loud. As it is, she can barely force out a breath. “Let’s just deal with one meltdown at a time.”
“You don’t even see it, do you Felicity?” She hates when he scoffs at her like this, like he knows something she doesn’t. “You don’t even have a clue. The poor guy’s in so deep already, and it’s like you’re watching from the kiddie pool.”
Her heart twists at his accusation and it stuns her silent. If she’s honest, this is one can of worms that she hadn’t hoped to open for a while. But if he’s right, if Oliver’s already this far along without her, then her time for stalling is up.
“You’re wrong about me,” she tells him, because no way is she just going to let that jab go. “But either way, I’m all in, John. With him and with this team, to fight for this city. The question is, where are you?”
He does actually take a moment to consider it, and she tries not to let on, how her pulse picks up anxiously before he answers. “I’m here, Felicity.”
He finally does hug her then, and there’s a brief moment of comfort followed by a flood of memories. They did this so many times last year, his protective arms bracketing her in as her waterlogged makeup smudged his t-shirts and jackets. But they’re fighting a new battle now, and for as much as things are the same, it does feel a little bit like they’re strangers in a foreign land.
“You should go,” Digg murmurs softly, pulling back a little after a moment. “Oliver’s waiting.”
"He is,” she can’t help the satisfied little smile as she nods, turning for the door before a final thought whirls her back around.
“John?” He turns to her, eyebrows raised over a gaze that’s on its way back to his usual kindness. It’s so familiar she almost feels bad for having to go icy on him, just once more. “If you ever say something like that to him again – we’re done, you and me.”
Digg just gives her another small smile, but this time it’s not dismissive or cocky. It’s just soft and a little sad.
“Welcome to the deep end, Felicity.”
She’s silent on the ride home, and thankfully Oliver doesn’t pry, just takes her hand as they walk through the parking garage and ride the elevator to the loft. It’s only when they enter their new home and he tightens his grip instead of dropping her hand that she knows it’s time to talk.
She turns to face him, looking up into a visage already clouded by guilt.
“I don’t like you getting in the middle of this, Felicity,” he nearly whispers. She’d laugh at how far off the mark he is if there weren’t a dozen more serious things worth saying.
“I know.” A deep breath, a squeeze of his hands. “That’s not really what that was about.”
“Will you tell me what it was about?”
She nods, trying in vain to swallow the lump in her throat. “You really were ready for it, huh?”
“What?”
“The whole nine yards.“ She’s trying not to tremble. “The house in the suburbs, two and a half kids…”
He drops her hands then and takes a step back. It does nothing for her nerves.
“Ready for it?” His voice sounds almost incredulous, and he scrubs a hand over the back of his head but it seems like an excuse to look down and not meet her eyes. “Felicity we had it. We were there.”
The way he says it makes her certain he thinks he’s lost it for good and her heart cracks down the middle. Then he adds the kicker and it splits clean in two. “Well, I was there, anyway.”
“That’s not fair,” she fires back, growing tearful. “I told you I loved every minute with you and I meant it. I still do. But that wasn’t real, Oliver.”
“What wasn’t real?” He raises his voice and it echoes in the hard, empty spaces of the loft.
“Any of it!” They really should have rented their own place. This doesn’t feel like a home, not compared to the one they left. But still… “You think we really would have been happy there, leaving everything – everyone – behind?”
“Felcity,” he says, sounding equal parts exasperated and confused. “I was happy there.”
“I just…I didn’t know you were so ready for…all of that.”
She can’t even say it the word, but as she considers it, she’s surprised to find just how much she’s already thought about a little blonde boy with glasses and a daredevil of a darling girl who’s got her father wrapped around her finger.
But all that thinking had been in the the abstract, promises for the future they’d keep when the time was right. She hates herself a little for taking so long to realize that the way he had answered the Hoffmans – we haven’t talked about it – was a clear sign that for him, the idea had been something much more tangible.
And then – like all of his happiness – it had been torn away from him.
“So you were ready for kids in Ivy Town,” she trails off for a second and clears her throat, because the second part of the question is the one that makes her twist a little. “And now?”
He does that thing, where he purses his lips and huffs a tight breath out through his nose and she just knows he’s only worrying about how she’s going to react. “No. Not anymore.“
It’s the answer she’d hoped for and yet, the second the words leave his lips, they hit her like a gut punch. Domesticity had been like an undercover operation for her, but he had embraced it gleefully, unironically.
And it had looked so good on him, she remembers, reminiscing back to overcooked eggs and post-workout sex like it was a lifetime ago. Life in the suburbs had lifted the dark clouds that hung over him until all she could see was his sparkling eyes and brilliant smile. His eyes are duller now, and her heart sinks when she realized she hasn’t really seen his smile since that last brunch.
It only gets worse when she recalls the words she had lobbed at him like grenades last year. What I deserve, she had told him as they fought, is to be with someone who isn’t afraid of being happy.
She has to turn away then, before he can see the tears start to force their way down her cheeks.
“Felicity.”
He catches her as she tries to hurry back towards the kitchen on some fabricated distraction. She’s spinning out, he can tell. Not just because she’s crying, but because her hands are moving in quick circles, like they do when her brain is processing things faster than she can figure out the words. “Oliver, when I told you how bored I was with life in the suburbs, when I told you how badly I wanted to be back here…”
Finally, he figures out what exactly clicked to make her panic. “Felicity, no.”
“Did I…were you just the happiest you’ve been in a decade?” Her tone is frantic and equal parts horror and disbelief. “And I just…took it away?”
“Felicity, stop,” he pleads. “You didn’t take anything away. The city needs us. The team needs us. We made this decision together. Just like we’ll make all the decisions from here on out.”
He hopes the implication is clear, he really doesn’t want to freak her out with the “K” word again. But her face just slacks in distress and her eyebrows tilt upward with more worry.
“You were so happy.” It’s soft, almost like she’s saying it to herself. But she’s not. Because they do these things together now.
“I was happy,” he admits, grinning at the honesty, how freeing it still feels. “Happier than I’ve been in years. Happier than maybe I’ve ever been.”
Those words don’t help, he can tell by the way she won’t meet his eyes.
“But I’m still happy,” he continues quickly. “And you’re right, it wasn’t real. We left so much behind.”
“And now we’re back,” she mutters.
“And now we’re back. And here, it’s like things are breaking faster than I can put them together and some things…“ He trails off, thoughts turning to his sister, to the only other family he has left. “Some things I’m not sure we can fix.”
“And new things are breaking every day,“ she adds on a grumble that’s cuter than he has any right to notice. It’s like puzzle pieces locking together every time they speak, even when they’re fighting.
“Felicity, I feel like I’ve been at full-sprint since we got back and I still can’t keep up,” he admits. “There’s so much danger, so many things we’re not even ready for, that we still don’t understand. And, as much as I want to have kids with you…”
He hears her suck a breath in quickly and knows he should have phrased that better. But there’s no time for delicacy.
“I’m not sure I can even imagine it now.”
“That sounds like another verse of ‘I can’t be the Arrow and be with you’.” She’s trying to lighten the mood, to ease the pressure a little, but he can hear the anguish in her voice.
“Maybe it is. Maybe my dreams are different, now that we’re back,“ he tells her. "Maybe they’re the same, and it’ll just take some time. But all that matters is that you’re there when I wake up.”
She rolls her eyes, but they’re twinkling at him and she grins like she can’t help herself. “That’s pretty sappy.”
“Maybe, but it’s true,” he says, returning her smile and stepping closer. “Felicity, I loved living in the suburbs with you and I loved cooking for you and going to the farmers’ market and all that stuff that just bored you to tears. I loved that life more than any other, I really did. But I’m pretty sure that’s because it’s the only life so far that I’ve lived with you.”
It feels like fifty pounds lift from his shoulders when she smiles big at him then, and he’d swear the whole loft brightens with the wattage.
When they used to talk like this, fighting or not, they’d go their separate ways afterward – her back to her apartment, and him to beat the shit out of something until he couldn’t feel anymore. Now, he knows without a doubt every day ends with her in his arms. It makes him feel healthy for the first time in a long time.
“I’d do anything to make you happy like that again,” Felicity says softly, and his heart soars, smashing through the high, vaulted ceiling of the loft. “You know that right?”
He just shakes his head in joyful disbelief and pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her waist as she threads hers around his neck.
“You don’t have to do a single thing,” he admits, pressing his forehead to hers to look into her eyes. “You’re my happiness, Felicity Smoak. Whether I’m in the suit or…out of it.”
“Ugh, talk about a tough choice there,” she swoons, pressing a kiss to his jawline. He loves the way she sidles right up against him, like they’ve been doing this forever.
“You are my happiness.” He tells her again, just so she knows, smiling at her lusty distraction. He’ll never get enough of this. “You’re all I need.”