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Aaaaaand it was awkward again.
An amazing kiss, cheered on by Diggle and Roy, and….he had said less than a full sentence to her in the day since.
"Uhhhrrrg! He is such a GUY!" Felicity yelled at her monitors. "It’s not like I slapped him or kneed him in his tender bits or shouted get off me!" She kicked at the small trash bin under her desk, surprising herself when it went skidding across the floor.
She flopped back into her chair, it was new and not perfect. Like the space. Not under his club, not in a cool watchtower, not even under a nice mansion.
"Stupid Isabitch and hostile take overs and mirakuru and stupid, smelly new old fish factory!"
"Felicity?"
"Damnit!" She jumped and spun, only to be faced fighting her foe with a…glasses case. Great.
She threw it at his head anyway. He dodged it and frowned.
"What?" she snapped. See, she could say almost nothing, too!
"Are you…ok?" Oliver asked carefully.
"No."
"No?"
"No."
Silence.
"Um, why aren’t you ok?" He put down his bow but kept watching her.
"Oh hoho so many reasons."
"Care to share?"
"No."
"No?"
"Oh for Pete’s sake!" And she stomped the three steps over to him, grabbed his stupid green hood, and yanked him down to kiss her.
She could sense his confusion and hesitation. He really was dense at times. So she leaned so much of herself into, onto, his body that he was forced to hold her or risk toppling to the ground.
She smiled into his lips as he held her close. She gently bit his bottom lip until he opened and she deepened their second kiss.
Finally, FINALLY, his male brain clicked. He growled, (and holy crap how sexy was he when he growled did the bad guys get turned on too?) and hoisted her up onto the nearest table.
She giggled as he ripped his mask off and he smiled. The next kiss was slow and sweet. Hands holding faces, stroking, caressing. Foreheads touching, breathing the other’s breath…
She smiled when they parted and wagged a finger in his face.
"You better start learning to talk like you kiss, mister, or I might be the one threatening to shoot you."
"What does that even mean?" he asked, though clearly didn’t care because he was grinning and trying to kiss her again.
"Duuude," Roy chimed in as the door behind him banged closed. "Even I know that girls like talking the shit out of things." Oliver glowered at the younger man. "Sorry, Queen, that’s how it is with smart chicks."
"Roy," Felicity frowned.
"Sorry," he rolled his eyes. "Smart babes. No? Smart mamas. Smart honeys. Smarty Barbie? Ha, I LIKE that one! Smart—"
"Roy!" And Felicity accurately threw her glasses case again, right into his nose twenty feet away.
"Ow, shit, Liss!" He grabbed a rag from a pile on a table and turned to retreat. "Next time, just hang a sock on the door. Jeeze."
Oliver went to take a deep breath to yell something, but Felicity quickly occupied his mouth instead.
"Talk later," she whispered and he grinned and kissed her in response.