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Ever since they’d come home from the hospital, Oliver had been glued to her side.
With Darkh out of the picture for the coming weeks, he’d suspended both his Green Arrow and his campaign duties to help her settle back in.
By now the buzz had died down, but their shooting had been all over social media.
First they’d made the cover of the tabloids with Oliver’s romantic proposal in front of the Christmas tree and their friends.
The next moment they’d been a headliner on the Starling City late night news as her life hung in the balance.
Oliver Queen suspends campaign as fiancée fights for her life after shooting.
Not the way she’d imagined appearing on the news one day.
When Felicity had woken up from the first surgery, her entire room had been covered in bouquets of flowers and get-well-soon cards from people she’d never met.
Once, while on the verge of a painkiller-induced sleep, she saw Laurel snap at reporters hovering outside her room. They hadn’t come back afterwards.
She’d lost count of how many surgeries she’d gone through.
Four, maybe five? The days spent in the hospital had all blurred together eventually.
The only moments that stood out in her memory was when Oliver had visited her.
Sweet, loving, guilt-stricken Oliver.
Oliver, who’d thrown himself on top of her to shield her with his own body. Who’d managed to drive the limo out of range of the shooters.
Who’d saved her life – even though he didn’t think so.
For the past few days, he’d cooked her favorite meals, brought her coffee and tea whenever she wished. Fluffed her pillows up and tucked her blanket beneath her legs.
Watched Doctor Who and Star Trek with her, and even pretended to understand when she talked about the science behind it. One day, she was going to succeed in dragging him to Comic Con.
Or wheeling him, as things stood now.
He carried her up and down the stairs, to the bathroom and back. All with endless kindness and energy.
It was a strange kind of intimacy – to be so vulnerable and reliant on someone else for even the most basic needs. It wasn’t how she’d imagined they would spend the first days after their engagement.
Even before she’d gotten back home, Oliver had made some adjustments to the apartment.
A seat in the shower, a handrail beside the toilet for when her wounds had healed enough to be able to pull herself out of the wheelchair.
Felicity had cried when he’d shown her.
Both out of love for him and for the part of her body she’d lost.
Maybe forever.
“Oliver?”
Oliver shot up on the bed beside her, practically throwing his pen and notebook aside. “What’s wrong? Do you need to use the bathroom? Are you bleeding?”
“Relax,” Felicity said with a chuckle. She sat beside him in bed, propped up against the pillows with her laptop on her lap. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Anything.” Oliver sat cross-legged beside her on the sheets. “What do you need?”
She looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling awkward. Lacing and unlacing her fingers, she said, “Well, we’ve been home for a few days now. And I know you’ve been helping me dress and go to the bathroom and do my hair –“
“All of which are gladly done.” Oliver took her fidgeting hands in his, his palms warm over hers. His gaze was soft. “What’s on your mind?”
Felicity bit her lip. Peering at him from beneath her glasses, she said. “I’m stinky.”
Laughter bubbled out of Oliver. “You are not stinky.”
“Fine, I feel stinky. I haven’t showered since forever. I couldn’t get the sutures wet the first forty-eight hours after surgery, but we’re past that now. And…”
“And?”
“And I’m scared,” she admitted with a sigh. “I don’t want to fall from the seat. Don’t want to risk more injury to my messed-up spinal cord.”
Don’t want more pain, she thought quietly. Even with the painkillers taking the edge off, it still hurt like a bee-yotch.
“Felicity,” Oliver said, tilting his head to meet her downcast gaze. “You don’t have to do it alone. That would even be dangerous.”
“I just don’t want to be a burden even more. You’ve already done so much for me. You don’t even get a full night’s sleep because I have to wake you up every time I have to pee.”
She could sit up in bed or on the couch, but she couldn’t lift her arms above her head or behind her back.
Leaning forward was a good way to pass out, and even sneezing was painful. Every time she felt her nose starting to tickle, she tried to think of cute animals instead.
“You’re not a burden.” Oliver cupped her cheek, tilting her head towards him. “Hey, look at me.”
“I am. You’re very cute.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Taking care of you isn’t a burden, Felicity. It never is, and never will be. We’re a team. And partners help each other.
“Besides,” he added, pausing to dramatically sniff his arm. “I could do with a shower myself.”
Felicity laughed. “You showered this morning after your abs exercises. I know, because I was watching you the entire time.”
Perks of having Oliver around 24/7: daily shows of her boyfriend’s incredible body.
Though it did frustrate her that she couldn’t run up to him and wrap her herself around his chest like usual.
Would she able to ever do that again?
“Well, I wouldn’t mind another one.” Oliver pecked a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m going to get the medical kit. Be right back.”
Felicity watched him go. Rather focusing on the view of his backside than the thoughts swirling around in her head.
“Don’t go there,” she muttered, pressing a fist to her forehead. “Nothing’s set in stone. Don’t spiral.”
It was hard.
The painkillers kept her mind in a fuzzy state most of the time, but in a few days, she’d have to lower the dosage.
Which would mean she could finally do something else besides rewatching the X Files, like program or hack NASA for fun, but also that the thoughts that had been waiting on her doorstep would burst through.
Thoughts like if Oliver would still love her if this lasted, or if she’d be able to carry a pregnancy to full-term without harming her spinal cord.
Just your everyday gloomy thoughts. Totally normal.
“Here we are.” Oliver bounded up the stairs carrying a large translucent box filled with medical supplies. “Are you alright?”
Felicity forced a smile. She nodded. “Just thinking what soap I’m going to use.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Oliver placed the box besides him. “Alright. The doctors said we need to use waterproof dressing to protect the wounds. So I’m going to change your old ones, disinfect them, and apply the new ones.”
Her hands went up to the top of her blouse, but Oliver stopped them.
“Don’t. Just relax.” He gave her a sweet smile. “All you need to do is keep still, alright?”
“Dr. Queen is on duty,” Felicity said, lowering her hands. “I like it.”
Ever so careful, Oliver started to unbutton her white blouse. Eyes flicking between the buttons and her face, searching for any trace of pain.
“It’s okay. Keep going.”
Slowly, he parted her opened blouse. Revealing a patchwork of surgical dressings across her abdomen.
Oliver’s jaw tightened. His gaze turned hard, darkness and fury creeping in at the edges. His fingers grazed her bare skin.
“He’s going to pay for what he did to you,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
Felicity reached out to cover his hands with her own. “He will. After I stop being stinky.”
A chuckle escaped him, though the darkness in his eyes didn’t disappear entirely. “You’re not stinky.”
“Agree to disagree.”
With a smile and a shake of his head, Oliver gently pushed the blouse off her shoulders and carefully pulled it down her arms.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as the chilly air in the penthouse washed over her. She shivered involuntarily in her sports bra and loose sweatpants.
“I’ll be quick,” Oliver said, putting her blouse aside. “Front or back?”
“Back first,” she said, wanting to get the worst over with. “Then I can lean again.”
Sliding his one arm underneath her motionless legs and another behind her shoulder blades, Oliver quickly changed her position so she was sitting on the bed facing the wall, her back to him.
One hand stayed on her shoulder blade, allowing her to lean. The other brushed her hair over her shoulder.
Oliver peppered kisses in the crook of her neck. “Just recite some Doctor Who trivia to me.”
Felicity chuckled as she felt his fingers gently pry the wound dressings loose on her lower back. “And they say romance is dead.”
Her ramblings were punctuated by hisses or a gasps of pain as Oliver disinfected the healing scars and applied a water proof dressing.
“I’m sorry,” he would say every time she inhaled sharply. “We’re almost there.”
By the time she’d reached the Fifth Doctor, Oliver laid her back against the pillows so he could do the front. “Are you alright? Tell me if I need to stop.”
“I’m a big girl, Oliver,” Felicity said, her breathing still shallow. The pain in lower back was slowly ebbing away. “I can take it.”
Oliver gave her such a tender look that her heart skipped a beat. “I know you can. It doesn’t mean you have to.”
As he undid the dressing on her lower abdomen, she dared to take a peek at the healing wounds.
Two bullets had struck her – one above her left hip, coming out the other side. The other entering past her navel and hitting her spine on its way out.
The sight made her oddly emotional. Two pieces of metal, no bigger than her thumb.
Capable of destroying her life.
Clean, surgical scars ran over the round wounds caused by the bullet. Stitches held her healing skin together above and below her belly button.
No more bikinis for her.
At least her vital organs had been spared, by some miracle. At least if you didn’t consider the spine to be vital.
“I’m going to have such badass scars,” Felicity said teary-eyed, watching Oliver as he covered the healing wounds. “Now we can match.”
Oliver leaned forward to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. He wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumbs. His own gaze was glassy. “The only way we should match should be in color-coordinated outfits.”
Felicity made a sound between a snort and a hiccup. “That would be really cute for your campaign.”
“I’ll get us matching pajamas, too” In one smooth motion, he scooped her up in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. “Come on. Let’s go get that shower.”
Felicity hoped the water would hide her tears.
Ever since her boyfriend had allegedly killed himself in college, Felicity had told herself she’d never rely on anyone ever again.
That she’d face the world alone, and that would have to be enough. Just her and her wits against the world.
It had worked – for a while.
Her MIT degree had easily landed her a cushy IT job, and she’d kept her social circles small on purpose. No dating, no hanging out with colleagues.
Loneliness had started to gnaw at her heart, but not enough to let her walls down. Not enough to abandon her plan.
Only then a certain Oliver Queen had shown up at her cubicle with an adorable smile and a broken laptop that needed repairing.
And her plan had gone flying out the window.
“There we go,” Oliver said as he carefully put her on the shower chair. “Still good? No pain?”
“I’m good,” Felicity said. Even though they’d seen each other naked a thousand times by now, she felt oddly exposed. Her bandages and scars on full display. “I think – I think I can manage.”
Oliver’s expression was a mix of pity and tenderness. “You’re in pain every time you bend or move your arms. I’ll wash you. Let me spoil you.”
After being so independent for years, it felt weird to have to rely on someone like this. Even if it was the person she loved most.
Shame still sat in her stomach like a stone.
“Well, if you put it like that,” Felicity said with a small smile she wasn’t entirely feeling. She fought the urge to cover her bare skin with her arms. “Lucky we have such a giant shower, huh?”
“Hey.”
Oliver stepped in the shower. He knelt before her, taking her hands. His smile was the sweetest thing. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing. This is me, taking care of you. Just like we’ve always done.”
“Even if it’s for the rest of my life?”
“Even then.” Raising her left hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “For better or for worse.”
Felicity’s heart skipped a beat. “Come here. I can’t lean forward.”
As Oliver rose, she tilted her head to meet his lips. The kiss was soft and unhurried, replacing the shame in her chest with silk-winged butterflies.
“Thank you,” she murmured, their noses bumping. “For everything.”
Oliver gently took off her glasses and placed them next to the sink. “It’s my greatest pleasure.”
“You know, you’re going to get your clothes wet. Don’t you need to take a spare set from the bedroom before we shower?”
Oliver grinned.
His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. Revealing a beautiful, muscled chest covered in scars. His pants hit the floor, followed by his underwear.
And now Felicity was blushing for an entirely different reason.
Talk about a nice distraction.
“No need for that,” he said, stepping into the shower and closing the glass door. “This is better.”
Felicity let her gaze roam freely over her fiancé’s muscled body. “Oh, it sure is.”
Alright, maybe having Oliver wash her wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
At least the view was great.
Oliver took the shower head from the holder against the wall. He turned on the water, then regulated the temperature by testing it on his palm.
“I think it’s comfortable like this.” He padded over to her, holding the shower head. “Can you give me your arm?”
She did as told, looking up at him from the shower chair. The water was luke-warm, running in rivulets down her arm. It felt good. “Warmer, please.”
Oliver turned up the heat. “Like this?”
“More.”
The knob turned further. Oliver watched her carefully. “Good?”
“Yeah,” she said. A shiver of content traveled down her spine. “Perfect.”
Moving beside her, he pressed a kiss to her brow. “Tilt your head back for me. I’ll do your hair first.”
Felicity tipped her head back. She sighed as the water ran over the top of her head, washing away the lingering scent of sweat and disinfectant.
Closing her eyes, she could almost pretend she was getting a haircut. Almost.
You didn’t exactly get naked at the hairdressers.
“Which shampoo do you want?” Oliver gestured to the metal racks against the marble tile wall. Filled to the brim with bottles and tubes. “We have… a lot of them.”
Splurging on soaps and shampoos had always been a guilty pleasure of hers.
Especially since as a member of team Arrow, she often ended up smelling like metal, blood, smoke or even gunpowder residue. And that would undoubtedly raise some questions at Palmer Tech.
“The one you bought for me in London. With the lily-of-the-valley and earl grey extract. For some reason it makes me feel like Sherlock Holmes.”
It had been part of a gift basket he’d given her from an exclusive boutique in London’s high-end shopping district. She’d wandered into the shop, immediately falling in love with the delicate scents and seemingly limitless assortment.
Then she’d seen the price of one teeny tiny bottle, and she’d nearly dropped it out of shock.
And her bubble had been burst.
They’d gotten coffee and finger sandwiches down the street afterwards, and Oliver had taken a suspiciously long bathroom break.
After ten minutes, he’d proudly walked onto the café’s terrace, his body nearly disappearing behind a gigantic gift basket from the boutique.
Felicity had let out a scream of excitement. Once he’d placed the basket on the table, she’d promptly tackled him into a hug.
Back at the hotel, they’d taken a wonderful bath together in their larger-than-life tub.
“I remember this one.” Oliver chuckled, taking the green tube. He popped open the cap and took a sniff. “Smells like you.”
“All the women on that terrace looked like they wanted a piece of you.”
Oliver moved beside her. He squeezed some light green shampoo into his hands. “Too bad. I’m taken. Forever.”
A groan slipped past Felicity’s lips as he started to massage the shampoo into her scalp. His fingers felt like magic. Her facial muscles relaxed, the crease between her brow disappearing.
God, how many hidden talents did this man have?
“I think you might have missed you calling as a beauty specialist,” she said, closing her eyes. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Queen Beauty Salon. It has a ring to it.” Oliver chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple. He moved to the lengths of her hair, taking care to distribute the shampoo evenly.
Then he shielded her eyes with one hand from the soap suds while rinsing her hair clean with the other.
Warm steam enveloped them in the shower. The glass doors had turned foggy, condensation rolling down in droplets. The smell of lily-of-the-valley and bergamot wrapped around her.
For a moment, their problems seemed far away. The world narrowing to just the two of them.
It felt almost like a dream.
Only in her dreams, she could walk.
“Want me to put a mask on your hair?” Oliver brushed some of the wet tendrils from her face.
She nodded. “Yeah. Especially since I think showering every day is still too exhausting for me.”
Taking a round, glass pot, he swiped a generous amount of product on his fingers. He rubbed it between his palms, then started to slather it along the lengths of her hair.
Once he was done, Oliver knelt in front of her with another bottle. “Is it okay if I wash you while the mask is working?”
He was being so considerate. So gentle, so sweet. So loving.
Felicity couldn’t help herself.
Letting go of the support bar, she twined her arms behind Oliver’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Her mouth slanted over his, tongue flicking against his bottom lip.
He opened for her, and she deepened the kiss, tongues brushing against each other. Sparks skittered over her skin as his teeth nipped at her lip.
Oliver groaned, his arms carefully sliding over her back. His stubble scratched against her cheeks.
God, how much she wanted to stand up.
To wrap her legs around his waist, feel his hands over her rear as he held her up against the wall.
Stand on her own two legs as they made love beneath the hot water.
She smiled sadly against lips, finally breaking away for air. Her head spun, hot water cascading down her back in rivulets.
“What was that for?” Oliver was panting, pupils blown wide. He had a dopey, lovestruck smile on his face that made her want to kiss him again.
Love mingled with sadness inside her.
What if this put a strain on their relationship?
What if after all the fighting they’d done, this what was broke them?
Her hands cupped his face. “For everything. Because when you proposed, I – I wasn’t like this. And I would never blame you if –”
“Felicity Smoak, don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
She blinked, taken aback by the sternness in his tone.
Oliver took his original kneeling position in front of her, his hands lingering around her waist. His eyes were bright. Bright with love and his trademark stubbornness.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much. When I pulled you from that limo, and you lay bleeding and unconscious in my arms, my heart stopped. I thought my worst nightmare had become reality.
“You went into surgery five times,” Oliver continued, his fingers softly rubbing shapes on her bare skin. “Five times, I feared the worst. Yet you came through every single time. You were going to live.”
Felicity swallowed against the press of tears in her throat.
His fingers slid down her arms to take her hands. “We were still going to have a life together. We got a second chance. And I thank the universe every single day that you are still beside me. That our story didn’t end in bloodshed.”
Tears slid down her cheeks, all the emotion of the past days resurfacing. “What if it’s permanent, Oliver? What if I’ll never be like before?”
“I’ll still love you.” He said it like the most undeniable fact in the universe. “I love you, whatever form or shape you may take. Whether you can stand on your legs or not. It doesn’t matter to me, Felicity.”
“But what if it will, one day? If we can’t have sex like we used to? Or if I can’t bear children because of the risk to my spine? Or you’re in danger, and I can’t run to your side –“
“No.” Oliver cupped her face, his thumbs gently brushing away her tears. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because you’re still here. And that’s all I need. That’s all I’ll ever need.”
Felicity let out a hiccup. She sniffled. “You’re sure?”
Oliver smiled up at her, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Come here.”
Ever so gently, he lifted her from the shower chair. Sitting down on the tile floor, he set her sideways in his lap with his arms around her.
The water fell around them in warm droplets, creating the illusion of standing in the rain. Fragrant steam wrapped around them.
Felicity hadn’t felt so at peace since she’d returned from the hospital. Here, in Oliver’s arms.
Skin to skin, heart to heart.
“I love you,’ she said, peppering kisses over his chest and shoulders. His skin was warm beneath her lips. “I’ll always love you.”
Oliver touched his forehead to hers. Droplets ran down his neck and chest. “I’ll always love you, too.”
They stayed like this for God knows how long.
Her head pressed to his chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of his heart. His arms around her, stubbly cheek pressed to the top of her head.
Eventually, Felicity lifted her head. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.” Oliver looked adorable with his wet hair and boyish grin.
“If you wash me,” she said, running a finger up his arm. “Can I wash you? I want to take care of you, too.”
Make him feel appreciated. Run her hands over his skin, rubbing out the lingering tension in his muscles that never went away completely. Kiss his scars.
Prolong this vulnerable moment they were having.
“Because I’m stinky?”
Felicity rolled her eyes with a laugh. “You’re not stinky. You always have the perfect blend of aftershave, deodorant and manly musk.”
He did, though. Even after spending the night patrolling Starling's streets, there was an underlying scent that never seemed to fade.
Something intrinsically Oliver.
“I think others would disagree on that. Thea says I reek after I take off the Arrow armor.”
She traced an old stab wound underneath his collarbone. “Maybe we should hang a Magic Tree around your neck. We can even start a new brand.”
Waving a hand in front of her, she imagined the slogan. “Crime stinks, but we don’t! Try the new Green Arrow fragrance today!”
Oliver laughed, his shoulders shaking. Then his joyful expression turned into something tender. He gently ran his fingers down her cheek.
“Felicity?”
She stopped her ramblings. “Yes?”
“We’re going to be okay.” Oliver touched his forehead against hers, hands splaying carefully over the wound dressings on her back. “Whatever happens, we’re going to be okay.”
The hope in his voice was infectious. His murmurs reached down into her very heart.
Here, lying in his arms on the soapy tile floor, beneath the warm running water, Felicity actually believed him.
Believed it for the first time since the doctors had given her the diagnosis.
Believed it for the first time since she'd tried to move her legs and couldn't.
“I know,” she replied, cupping his cheek. A bright smile lit up her entire face. “I know we’ll be.”
Whatever happened, they were going to be alright.
For better, or for worse.