Chapter Text
"You're an idiot," Thea says as she hits Oliver in the head with a rolled-up magazine.
"What?" He says, turning to look at her over the back of the couch.
"You know what," she glares. She lifts the magazine to swing it again and he ducks out of the way. It's not like it hurts but it's the principle of the thing. He doesn't get hit in the head these days unless he wants to be.
"No," she says, "you don't get to avoid this. You get hit with a magazine until I say otherwise."
"Thea," Oliver says, standing up and holding out his hands placatingly. "I'm not sure what I've done to upset you..."
"She took down queenwatch.com," Thea says, "did you know that? I got flowers and an apologetic note from the fucker. She did that."
"Felicity?"
"Yes, Felicity. Unless you're dating another hacker I don't know about." Her eyes narrow, "and that would be just like you. Is this your new type? Women that are far too good for you and commit online crime in your name?"
"Thea," Oliver says, "I don't know what you've heard-"
"Heard!" She snaps, "try read!" She thrusts the magazine at him.
The glossy pages unroll in his hands to display pictures of him. Large, candid photos of him kissing other women, leaving clubs with his arms around two girls at a time, appearing at a premiere with a model hanging off him.
"What did you do?" Thea says, "I thought you had changed."
"No," Oliver says flatly, "I haven't changed at all."
Thea huffs.
"We broke up a month ago. Decided we were better as friends," Oliver says. "I'm not cheating on her. You don't need to defend the sisterhood." He had wanted to explain the situation - the plan - to Thea, but there wasn't a good enough explanation for why he was so worried about Felicity that didn't touch on his other nocturnal activities. She was already skirting close enough to the Hood with her involvement with Roy and his own quest for redemption.
It's horrible. They’re not broken up but it feels like they are and that as much as he saw the logic in this plan, and even appreciated the idea of it, carrying it out has been nothing close to fun.
"A month," Thea says, "figures."
"Why?" He suspects he knows the answer but he can't help but ask her anyway.
"It's been that long since I saw you smile." Thea says, whirling on her heel like the drama queen she is and storming out.
Oliver looks down at the magazine in his hands, the pictures documenting his 'return to bachelor life,' and finds he can't quite say she's wrong.
It’s been a month of no Felicity. Oh, she still helps out, working from the secure server room at Queen Consolidated, but he hasn’t seen her more from anything other than a distance since the day of the Photograph. There have been emails and phone calls and one particularly memorable and enjoyable Skype call, but he hasn’t seen her, and hasn’t been able to touch her for a month.
Oliver hasn’t trained this hard or this intensely since the island.
Diggle refused to fight with him after the second week.
The plan was to go six weeks. Six weeks of airheads and heiresses and public appearances. Six weeks of annoyed women calling his phone wondering when their second date will be and why he didn’t go home with them. Six weeks of what used to be his life, what used to be his heart’s desire (at least for those moments when he and Laurel were on the outs), and is now nothing more than a hindrance.
By then the press should be mollified and things can go back to the way they should be. With a few extra precautions that is.
As a man who spent five years trapped on an island he never though six weeks could feel so long.
Tommy wasn’t the only one who grew out of the playboy life.
Oliver is starting to seriously doubt he’ll be able to play the part of one of one of the idle rich for any real length of time. Maybe they need to think about a new cover story.
He slumps down on the sofa, looking at the magazine.
There are at least five photographs of him on these pages - each time with a different woman. And each of those woman is - at least in the eyes of the press - much more interesting and gossip-worthy than Felicity Smoak.
He hates the logic of it, but it's true. In these terms, Felicity is a nobody.
He hates that there are picture of him playing the part, hates that he's had to smile and kiss and touch anyone who isn't her. He wonders what she thinks of her master plan. Wonders if she's hating this as much as he is.
She keeps emailing him article links and animated gifs about his previous night's activities, generally accompanied by email messages made up entirely of exclamation marks and emoticons.
It doesn't seem like she hates it. She seems more amused by his reactions. He called her to apologise for the first picture that featured him kissing another woman and she couldn't stop laughing for five minutes. "You just look so uncomfortable," she crowed. "I don't understand how everyone can't see it. It looks so fake."
"They don't know me like you do," he had replied.
"Well," she had cackled, "that is kind of the point of a secret identity."
Oliver looks down at the magazine once more. At least there aren't any pictures of Felicity. That part of the plan, at least, is working.
He looks up, sees the open fire in the grate, and throws the magazine the few feet to land in the flames. The pages curl and blacken as they are consumed. He feels slightly better now that he can't see the evidence anymore.
He shakes his head and heads for his room. The other part of this plan has kept him away from the club basement more than he likes. Right now Diggle is making appearances as the Hood every night Oliver has a public event, taking advantage of the press' presence to strengthen his alibi.
He hates to say it, but with Felicity keeping her distance and Diggle busy maintaining the illusion of the Hood, he's more than a little lonely.
He hadn't really thought about how empty his life was without them. And Tommy, of course. He misses Tommy every day - more so recently with his retread of history, revisiting of the kind of parties and events where he and Tommy used to spend their time.
Oliver steps into his bedroom and closes the door. He doesn't bother with the light. He's lived in this room for almost thirty years (those five years excepted) and even in the days when he was just back from the island, he could still navigate around it blindfolded.
Then, out if the darkness, there comes a giggle.
Oliver listens, tilting his head. He considers options - a giggle means whoever is waiting here is unlikely to be after the Hood - his enemies don't giggle. It's far more likely someone (a girl) has snuck in. This used to happen from time to time back in the day.
Back then he'd always enjoyed it.
Now he just wants to go to sleep.
"Okay," he says, walking to the bedside table to switch the light on, "show yourself."
He's not worried. He's dealt with this before. He's so far past this as a possible threat that he's already mentally composing the note he'll send to Diggle about upgrading the house security. Again.
So when arm slips around his waist and a soft hand runs down his arm he's caught somewhat by surprise.
He moves instinctively, flipping his assailant sideways, which would have had much more of a destructive impact if he wasn't standing so that they landed on his bed.
Oliver rubs his forehead. Now he's going to have a whole heap of difficulty getting this mystery girl out of the room.
He flicks the switch on the light and the darkness is abruptly gone.
He turns, readying himself for a conversation about personal boundaries and the reasons why you don't break into someone's bedroom, no matter how many times you've seen them on TV.
Then he stops. Because the girl sprawled among the cushions is Felicity.
Felicity in a short brown wig, a trench coat and no glasses.
"Felicity?"
She grins.
"Diggle snuck me in," she says, smiling widely. "Something about not having time to play relationship counselor to a pair of idiots who made the bed they were lying in?"
Oliver doesn't think, doesn't speak, he's just there, covering her body with his and kissing her for all that he's worth.
"I missed you too," she says between kisses, running her hands over his back and shoulders. "You have no idea how hard this has been."
He pushes himself up on his arms to stare at her.
"I have no idea?" He says, "This has been hell. And you know what? I lived through hell, so I know what I'm talking about."
"Poor baby," she says, scratching her fingernails over his scalp in that way that always seems to send shivers down his spine. "Life without me is that bad?"
"The worst," he declares, then drops his mouth to her neck, drinking in the taste and smell of her as he kisses his way along her skin. "I'm going to keep you here," he declares, "you are no longer allowed to leave. You can stay here, with me, in this bed. Forever."
Felicity laughs.
"Oliver, I have a job. Two, in fact."
"Billionaire," he says, simply. "I could buy you all the toys in the world and you could spend your days hacking into wherever you wanted, and your nights here. Like this. With me."
"Tempting," she admits, "but what about saving the city."
"Diggle can do it."
"Diggle has other priorities."
Oliver runs his tongue up the side of her neck, making her squirm and says onto her ear, "Really? More important than this?"
"To him at least," she says, "I think he's going to propose. To Carly."
Her voice is soft, happy for their friend.
"How do you know?"
"Oh he didn't ask me to go ring shopping or anything like that," Felicity says, "but you two never do follow my rules about clearing the browser history on the basement machines. Lots of jewellery sites there."
"Huh," Oliver says, "good for him."
He captures her lips with his own, kissing her deeply. One hand works at the tie of her coat, the other cups her head, keeping her mouth pressed to his. He's missed her so much and here she is. "I mean it though," he adds, "I can't go another month without you."
"There's only two weeks left in the plan," she says.
"Two weeks," he repeats, "surely as the owner of the company I could secure your services for two weeks."
"You don't pay me for those kind of services."
"Still," he says, "two weeks. I could send a note to that boss of yours, have you seconded to me, keep you here."
"It doesn't work like that Oliver," she says, but she's laughing, delighted at him.
"Well then," he says, "that's settled. Obviously I need to tie you to this bed and never let you go."
Felicity's eyes, already so dark with her enlarged pupils, seem to get even darker, the color of the irises almost entirely swallowed up by the dark centre.
"Don't tempt me," she says, very serious.
Oliver laughs and undoes the belt and buttons of her coat, lifting her up to push the material down her arms.
"You're eager."
"It's been a month Felicity," he points out, entirely reasonably. "29 days of not doing this."
She laughs as he kisses her nose.
"I can't get over you as a brunette," he admits. "It's odd."
"I can take it off," she replies, her hands reaching up towards the wig.
"I don't know," he teases, "variety is the spice of life after all."
She fixes him with an unimpressed look.
"I think you've had more than enough variety for now," she says pointedly.
"And whose fault is that?"
"Yes well," she grumbles, "perhaps I didn't realise how difficult it would be to see you in my news alerts every day kissing someone else."
"I didn't want to kiss anyone else," he replies, "you're the one who said it had to look real."
"So stop kissing them," she says, "you don't need to kiss them all."
"In the last month," he says, "I have kissed seven women who aren't you. Every time in front of photographers, and every time the photos came out you laughed at me."
"I only laughed so I didn't go online and destroy their credit ratings," Felicity says, petulantly.
"So jealous," he teases, nuzzling her skin.
"Imagine how you would feel if it was me."
And he tries not to, he does try, but suddenly he can see the mirror universe here, where she's being photographed walking out of clubs in the arms of another. He can't prevent the predatory noise he makes so instead he drops his mouth to her collarbone and sucks a hickey into her skin, determined to mark her as his.
"So jealous," she parrots back at him. "And what if I wanted to wear a low cut top tomorrow?"
"Wear it," he says, "let everyone see you're off the market."
"Is doesn't work like that for women," she sighs, "I'm already the slut that slept with the boss. A hickey won't improve my reputation."
"Tied to the bed," he reminds her, "just say yes."
"We can't," she says, "the plan is working. The only people who remember that I was with you are the people at work. And they're just jealous."
"Thea misses you," he says, "she just hit me with a magazine defending your honor."
Felicity snorts. It's a completely undignified sound but he loves it.
"Thea hit you," she giggles, "with a magazine?"
"I didn't see it coming," he admits, "she's got an arm on her."
Felicity laughs again, and he takes advantage of her distraction to roll them over and unzip the back of her mini dress.
She's still giggling as he pulls the material up and over her head in one move.
"Smooth," she says, "but aren't you a little overdressed?"
"We'll get to me," he says, "in a minute." He moves them again, laying her down on the covers and moving to kiss and touch all the pale skin now on display.
Her hands fuss at her hair, pulling out hair grips and finally letting her blonde hair tumble down from under the wig.
"Much better," he says, reaching up to run his hands through her hair. "I missed this. I missed you."
"I missed you too."
She plucks at his shirt so he drags it off, and her hands come up to run over the skin of his chest. One nail scraps over a nipple pleasurably.
He makes light work of the rest of her clothing, discarding her boots and socks and running his hands up her legs. He slips her panties off as she unhooks her bra.
"You're still overdressed," she complains.
"Not for what I have in mind," he says dropping his mouth to her stomachs then kissing his way down her abdomen. "Now," he warns her, "you have to keep quiet. Thea doesn't know you're here and I don't want another assault by publication because she thinks I'm cheating on you."
"I can bite my lip," she grins, "I remember last time."
Oliver thinks back to the morning after the first night she spent in this bed. The awkwardness at the breakfast table as Thea raised her eyebrows pointedly and asked how they had slept. Felicity had blushed crimson, and even Oliver had felt an unaccustomed level of chagrin at the fact they had apparently not only woken but kept his sister awake until she gave up and moved to a guest room in another part of the house.
He had thought being caught by your parents was mortifying. Apparently being overheard by your baby sister was far worse.
"Keep that in mind," he said, and lowered his mouth to her sex.
Felicity moans softly in the back of her throat. Her body shifts and twists and he's forced to bring up both of his hands to hold her hips in place. She gasps his name and he grins. She bites her lip hard enough he worries she'll draw blood and her hands fist on the covers, searching for purchase.
Her entire body is tense, his mouth making her scream without sound.
Really he's incredibly proud of himself.
He teases her with his tongue, caught between drawing out her pleasure as long as possible, and pushing her over the edge as quickly as he can.
But in the end all he can do is hang on. He sees her grabs for a pillow, bringing it down over her mouth, and then she explodes into orgasm. She keeps the cushion pressed down on her face so he keeps going, drawing the release out of her and teasing her towards a new one.
In the end she has to hit him with the pillow to make him move. He could gladly stay there for hours, bringing her over and over again until she collapsed. But her body is shivering and shaking with the multiple releases and she can’t take anymore.
He goes up on his elbows and smirks at her.
"Smug bastard," she says, "man I love you."
He registers her panicked freeze before he really hears the words. Felicity’s eyes have gone wide, her face shows her shock.
“When I say that,” she starts, but he shushes her.
“I love you,” he says. He’s never put the thought into words before, but it doesn’t surprise him.
“I love you too,” she says. She smiles, delighted. She reaches for him and he moves up her body, meeting her lips in what he can for the first time literally term a loving kiss.