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Felicity rushes into the lair to find Oliver sitting on the med bay table wearing a goofy grin while Thea hovers anxiously at his side and Digg looks at his leg.
“What happened?” she asks, setting her purse and coat down on the conference table before rushing to their side.
“‘mm finnne,” Oliver says, practically slurring as he reaches out his hand for Felicity.
Felicity looks at John, who shakes his head. He’s most definitely not fine.
“What happened?” Felicity asks again.
“Damien Darkh,” Thea growls.
“Look so pretty when you worry,” Oliver says, smiling up at her like she hung the moon. Looking at her like he hasn’t in weeks. It’s almost… Nice. Recently, every time he looks at her it’s like she kicked his puppy.
Felicity gives him a suspicious look before glancing back at John for an explanation.
“This is why Oliver usually denies taking Oxycodone,” he explains.
“Which begs the question why did he need it this time?” she asks, feeling Oliver’s hand reach out and grab onto her own, pulling her closer. She lets him, for now.
“His leg’s in pretty bad shape. He can’t bare weight on it,” John explains.
“But he’s going to be okay,” Felicity says, ignoring the shiver that runs down her spine as Oliver’s fingers make their way under her long sleeves and begin rubbing her sensitive wrist.
“At this point, I’m just trying to stop the bleeding and make sure there’s not an infection.“
"And if there is?” Thea asks with a terrified look, like she already knows the answer.
“Let’s not think about that yet,” John says.
“You have to fix this. He has to be able to walk again,“ Thea practically demands.
”'Sss wrong?“ Oliver asks Thea.
"Nothing,” Thea says, trying to sound reassuring. “Digg’s just working on saving your leg."
"Gonna hafta chop it?” Oliver says, his eyes going comically wide. He leans over and taps Digg on the head. “Hey! That’s my favorite leg!"
"You have a favorite leg?” Felicity gives him a strange look.
“Oh god, I don’t miss high Ollie. He and Tommy used to come home like this all the time,” Thea groans.
“You’re my favorite leg,” he says, leaning his head forward to nuzzle against Felicity’s arm.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Felicity says, looking down at him, unable to stop the affectionate smile that appears. He just looks so damn cute all high and hopeless. Usually he’s so stoic and guarded. She’s never seen him like this. She’s never even seen him drunk. He’s always been too on-guard to really let go, even when they were away.
“You make sense,” Oliver says, looking up at her. “You ‘ways make sense to my life. Don’ give up on me."
She feels her heart catch in her throat, and when she looks back down at Oliver, his eyes are a bit less foggy. He’s a bit more aware of his surroundings and what he’s just said, even if his speech is still slurred.
"Why don’t we talk about it in the morning when you’re not delirious?” she says.
“You’ll still be here in the morning?“ he asks, his eyes are watery and she knows it’s not from the pain or the drugs. It’s a hopeful kind of tearful.
She can’t promise him the world. She’s not ready to forgive him just yet and she’s certainly not sure she can trust him with her heart… But she can try. They can try. They can at least talk about it.
"Yeah, I’ll be here in the morning,” she says, her own voice weak as her eyes fill with tears.
“Good. ’S good. I think I need to sleep now,” he says, laying back on the table.
Felicity runs her hands through his hair like she used to whenever he’d have a bad dream, and waits for him to drift off to sleep before leaning over and kissing his forehead and whispering, “I love you,” into his ear so that only he would hear it. It’s not a solution to their problems, but it’s a start.