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Queen of Hearts

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A/N: Here is, yet again, another trope that got away from me. This is the pregnancy trope. Lots of people have asked for this one and I was hesitant to tackle it because, let's face it, it's the tropiest trope of all the tropes in the existence of tropes. And it is rarely done well. But someone (so sorry I don't know who!) suggested the idea that Felicity gets pregnant but her and Oliver don't know it's happened. That intrigued me. So much like 'Once and Future Queen' I've decided to take a crack at this one and do it right. I have a feeling it's going to be a long one. I hope no one minds.

Thanks to my ladies for their general support and enthusiasm with this story.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

 

                                                    Felicity Smoak was pregnant.

                                                    It took Oliver eight long weeks to figure it out.

                                                    It took Felicity nine.



Two months earlier:

 

The Count was back. They didn’t know how, but it didn’t seem to matter. The Glades were ripe for what he did best. More people willing to deal his trade for the small amount of cash in hand it would bring them, and more people willing to look to a small pill to escape their reality.

 

Except this one was worse than Vertigo. It completely stripped inhibitions, usually leading to actually stripping; and more. Arrests for lewd and lascivious behavior and indecent exposure had skyrocketed since the drug had hit the streets.

 

They’d infiltrated an underground club where they knew he was dealing. Their only purpose that night was to gather intel and for Felicity to plant a piggyback on their router to see if she could hack his system.

 

It was only supposed to be her going in with Oliver and Digg outside as backup if necessary. When she’d missed her check in, Oliver had gone after her despite Digg’s protest that he’d be recognized. He snatched a baseball cap off a stoned kid as he walked in and flipped up the collar of his jacket. It would have to do. He didn’t think twice as he let the bouncer at the door press a stamp on the back of his hand.

 

That was his first mistake.

 

He spotted Felicity after only a few minutes, her clubbing clothes leaving little to the imagination. She gave him a wink and walked right by like she’d never seen him before. He followed her out when it wouldn’t look suspicious. His motorcycle was stashed around the corner and Felicity had gotten into the car Digg had waiting nearby.

 

She was quiet when they got back to the lair. Digg begged off early and Oliver let him go with a smile and a nod.

 

That was his second mistake.

 

Ten minutes later Felicity was in nothing but a bra and mini-skirt as she straddled him in her desk chair.

 

He’d missed the signs. She’d been sweaty and slightly breathless, and kept looking over at him until Digg left, but he had just chalked it up to end of mission nerves and nothing else. Now, he had a lapful of blonde genius and didn’t know where to put his hands.

 

What Oliver had failed to notice was that he too had been staring back, restless, and unable to keep his thoughts from wandering to just how long her legs were.

 

That was his third mistake.

 

His final rational thought was that they’d both somehow been dosed at the club and he shouldn’t be kissing her.

 

Oliver woke up in his own bed when the alarm blared with a raging headache and no memory of how he ended up back at his house. He lay still in the darkened room trying to piece together the night before. The last thing he remembered was going into the club to find Felicity.

 

A quick check of his phone showed nothing out of the ordinary. With a groan he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the shower.

 

Thirty minutes later he was sliding into the back seat of the car as Digg held the door open.

 

When he was behind the wheel Oliver leaned forward. “What would you say if I told you I don’t remember anything about last night after we were at the club?”

 

Digg’s head tilted imperceptibly but his eyes never left the road. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean I don’t remember going back to Verdant. I don’t remember if we got what we needed. I don’t remember going back to my house.” The reality of what he was admitting suddenly struck him. “Is Felicity okay?”

 

“You were both fine when I left. We got back to the lair, Felicity did her thing and you both said you’d get yourselves home. That’s the last I know.”

 

Oliver sat back with an exhale, one hand scrubbing over his close cropped hair. “I think I got dosed.”

 

“With the new drug?” Digg’s concern was evident.

 

“We know it causes memory loss," Oliver replied, voice hard.

 

“But you didn’t take any pills.”

 

“No, there must be some other way to get it into the system.” His fist clenched against his knee in frustration at not knowing what had happened to him.

 

“You were only in there ten minutes, how could you have been dosed?” Digg asked.

 

“I don’t…” Oliver trailed off as he looked down and saw the faint outline of the stamp he’d received as he’d entered the club. It had stubbornly refused to wash off in the shower.

 

“It’s the stamp. He put the drug in the ink and everyone who went into that club got hit.” Oliver was already pulling his phone out to call Felicity as Digg hung a hard right and changed his route without asking.

 

Her phone went straight to voicemail, making his heart seize as his mind cycled through every horrible scenario possible.

 

When the car pulled to the curb in front of her building, he was out before Digg had it in park. He didn’t bother with the elevator as he sprinted up the five flights and tore down the hallway to her door.

 

Oliver didn’t care how loud his pounding was, he needed her to open the door and be safe on the other side. Just as he was about to break it down he heard locks shifting and then she was standing in front of him, a confused expression on her face.

 

“Oliver? Uh...sorry, I mean, I know I’m running late this morning but…” She stopped talking as he pushed through and took her by the shoulders, Digg arriving right behind him.

 

“Are you okay?” His voice was low and intense and he saw the immediate shift in her eyes as she realized something was off.

 

“I’m fine....I woke up with a horrific headache and feeling like I’d had a double training session with Digg but...why are you here?  You’re actually kind of scaring me.”

 

Oliver let her go and walked into the living room as Digg shut the door behind him.

 

“What’s going on?” Her voice quavered a bit and he turned to take her in. The sound of the running shower made it through to him as did her wet hair and the bathrobe clinging to her.

 

“Let me see your hand," he said gently, not wanting to scare her any more.

 

She quirked a brow at him but did as he asked. He took her hand in his and turned it over, his thumb running along the pale skin but not seeing anything. “Did you get a stamp at the club last night?”

 

“Yeah,” she said quickly, and pulled her hand back before holding the other one out. Just along the edge of her knuckle he could see the faint outline of the ink.

 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and turned to look at Digg.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” Felicity asked, head whipping between the both of them so fast tiny droplets of water flew from the ends of her hair.

 

“He put the drug in the ink. Everyone who went into the club was hit," Oliver explained.

 

Felicity’s mouth fell open in shock. "But...I don’t…” her brows furrowed and he could see her try and remember the previous night.

 

“Oh my god, I don’t remember...anything!” The fear she felt was palpable and Oliver only realized he still had hold of her hand when she squeezed it tight.

 

“Felicity, it’s okay. Digg said we got back to the lair and seemed fine when he left. And you clearly got back to your apartment," he explained, hoping to lessen her anxiety.

 

“You were there! You got it too!” she exclaimed, letting go of his hand grabbing his other, flipping it so she could do the same inspection he’d just finished.

 

“I woke up at my place with a headache, but that’s it.”

 

She stepped back some and wrapped an arm around her middle. “Do you think we’re okay?”

 

Digg stepped forward, “All the reports have said it’s out of the system in less than eight hours. Hits hard, hits fast, but that’s it.”

 

She nodded as he spoke, “Well that’s good then. I mean, some of those news reports and police records...wow. I guess we got off lucky.” She gave them tight smiles and glanced down at the puddle she’d dripped on her floor. Cheeks flushed she looked back up. “Hope it’s okay with the boss if I’m a little late.”

 

“I think you’re safe," he told her with a grin, just glad she was fine.

 

“Do you want a ride?” Digg asked.

 

“Nope, I’m good. I won’t be half an hour behind you. You’ve got that investor meeting at ten, but finance is setting it up, so don’t forget.” She waggled her finger at Oliver as she made her way back towards her bathroom.

 

The rest of the day went as expected. So did the rest of the week. Other than the headache he’d had when he’d woken up, he’d had no side effects from the drug and neither had Felicity.

 

The tech she’d planted had led them to the Count’s next big shipment, which they’d been able to pass on to the SCPD and with the help of the Arrow put the man away where he belonged.

 

Oliver had all but forgotten about the night he couldn’t remember until two weeks later. He’d limped back into the lair, leg aching from where it had been hit by a member of the Triad. Blood was running down the inside of his pants and he knew stitches would be necessary.

 

Digg was still on his way back so it was Felicity who had rushed to his side and helped him over to the table. He’d given her an apologetic look as he’d stripped down to his boxers, trying to ignore the flush that crept up her neck as she’d turned quickly and busied herself gathering supplies.

 

When she’d turned back he’d pushed himself back, leg outstretched. He expected her to hand him the gauze squares and antiseptic but the wound was far enough around he would have had a hard time reaching it.

 

She pressed down hard to stem the bleeding, her other hand laying unknowingly on his knee. He looked down at the contact and a flash of pain went through his head. With a gasp he pressed against his temple as he suddenly saw an image of her hand on his leg trailing up and down slowly, except it felt more like a memory. He shook his head fiercely and as quickly as it had hit him, it was gone again.

 

Felicity had come to his shoulder and was looking at him with concern, asking him if he’d hit his head too. He’d assured her he was fine but she looked at him like she didn’t believe him.

 

The flashes continued. He didn’t mention them to Felicity or Digg and he’d gotten good at hiding his reaction. Different things seemed to trigger them, but something he’d figured out quickly was that they were centered around Felicity: her hand on his arm, the scent of her shampoo, the way she pressed into his side in a crowded elevator, they had all triggered immediate, intense images of the two of them.

 

What Oliver hesitated to consider was if they weren’t just images, but if they were memories instead. He couldn’t go there however, because the last one he’d had, a month after that night at the club, was a flash of Felicity naked underneath him, head thrown back as he’d pushed into her.

 

He wrote it off as spending all day and all night with her coupled with a long dry spell. He couldn’t deny his attraction to her. She was the closest woman in his life. She knew everything about him and had chosen to stay instead of running away. He’d been drawn to her since Walter had directed him to her office a year and a half ago. But anytime his thoughts had strayed to acting on those feelings, he’d shut them down. He couldn’t risk losing her.

 

As he studied her through the glass walls of his office he knew he’d keep a tight rein on his emotions. He didn’t have a choice.