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An Impulse

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It’s an impulse buy. She sees it in a store window as she’s walking to her favorite coffee spot a few blocks from her apartment. It’s on display in the jewelry case of a little boutique and she doesn’t hesitate for more than a minute before walking in and buying it.

She puts it in that night, taking out her standard industrial bar and replacing it with the stainless steel miniature arrow. It reminds her of him. Like a little inside joke just for her. She falls asleep with a smile on her face; feels connected to him in some way.

It isn’t until a week later that he notices. She’s forgotten about it except for the few times the light catches it when she’s getting ready for work in the morning.

He’s looking over her shoulder at the newest intel she’s found on the local drug cartel who’s been trying to start an exportation of a new batch of Vertigo. She’s mid-sentence - discussing how the best way to find this guy might be for Diggle to hit the streets again - when she feels his intense gaze upon her.

"Are you even listening to me?" she asks hesitantly, her fingers still flying over the keys, trying to pull up the suspect’s rap sheet from the SCPD.

"Is that an arrow?"

His question causes her fingers to freeze; her entire body tensing as she realizes with a start what he’s referring to.

She swallows. He’s so close she can smell the sandalwood and perspiration that combine with leather to create his distinct scent.

"Um…yeah…I saw it in a store a few days ago. I liked it." She doesn’t ramble and it surprises her.

And then his hand is on the desk and he’s leaning over so he can see her face, his blue eyes dark as they catch hers. ”Isn’t that pushing it a bit? Lance already knows you work with Green Arrow.”

Felicity can’t help it, she rolls her eyes. “Says the guy who named his cover club Verdant.”

His lips quirk upwards, and he shrugs, a simple lifting of his shoulders and eyebrows as if to say “touché.”

"Besides," she continues, finally feeling that rambling penchant surface. "It took you a week to notice. When I wear my hair down, no one can see it anyway. And it’s not like people go around staring at my ears…I mean, that’s just weird."

He’s moved back from her view, but he’s still close, his breath tickling over her shoulder.

"I like it," he finally says, and his voice is a octave deeper and the sound of it causes something in Felicity to awaken.

The next time he speaks, she can almost feel his lips against the shell of her ear. ”Did you get it because it reminded you of me?”

Her mouth falls open with a gasp, and every muscle in her body tenses as her eyelids flutter shut. His voice is a deep growl now - not his Hood voice - but something with so much more promise.

"Maybe," she whispers after a few moments when she’s regained some of her equilibrium.

She can feel him smile, his lips brushing against her ear and she shivers at the contact. ”I like that,” he tells her. Had her hands not reached for the edge of the desk, she is sure she’d be falling.

"Yeah?" she asks because it’s the only thing she can think to say as his hands come to rest on her shoulders, fingertips massaging circles against the material there, heating her skin through her blouse.

"Arrows remind you of me, just like computers remind me of you. Computers and pencil skirts…"

Her eyes fly open at his confession and she tries to turn but can’t make herself move. She desperately wants to see his face; to see if he realizes what he’s saying - what he’s doing.

"The fact that you put one on your body," he murmurs, his hands trailing down her shoulders and over her elbows. "Because of me…you have no idea how much that turns me on."

A groan falls from her lips and her head falls limply backwards as he kisses the shell of her ear, his tongue laving over the metal arrow and tracing down til his mouth is suckling that spot just below her ear that makes her keen.

Something in her snaps in that moment, and her arms unfreeze. Without hesitation, one comes up to wrap around the back of his head, keeping him in place, while the other finds one of his hands and laces her fingers through his.

"Oliver." His name falls from her lips and suddenly his mouth isn’t just on her ear - it’s on her neck, and over her shoulder, his fingers pulling at her blouse to find more soft skin to explore.

She’s overheating at the sensations he’s causing with in her. The dark deep chuckle that escapes his throat after one of her moans is enough to send a spark of heat straight to her belly and has her toes curling in her pumps.

Her chest heaves as she tries to gasp for air, Oiiver’s lips wreaking havoc on her control. Her fingers tighten in his hair and she pulls his mouth from her skin and turns her head, seeking out his lips.

They meet and everything slows. The rushed and frantic pace he’d set, settles as they tentatively explore each other. His tongue trails over her lips, teasing, nipping, tasting. He doesn’t push, he just waits for her to open to him and then deepens the kiss, stifling his own groan.

His free hand runs over her shoulder and up into her hair, cupping the back of her head and rubbing circles against her scalp. Their intertwined fingers hold tight to each other, and he moves them so they are pressed tightly against her stomach.

She lets herself get lost in him - the feel of his hands and mouth upon her. His stubble scrapes against her jaw as he breaks away from her lips to trail hot kisses down her jaw and then back to her mouth. She’s gasping his name as he bites down softly on her lower lip and the hand in her hair has moved down her back to delve under the material of her blouse. The feeling of his palm splaying against her lower back pushes a deep moan from her throat and she nips at his lips, scraping her teeth across them. The guttural sound that rumbles through his chest is almost more than she can take. He’s all she can see, and hear and feel and all she wants is more.

The door code breaks them apart, both gasping for breath. Oliver leans his forehead against hers, pulling in air to regulate his breathing as quickly as possible.

She’s not as fast as he is in reigning in her emotions, so she swivels in her chair when Diggle walks in, her face staring fixedly at her computer screens. The blanket of her hair providing a tiny shield against the flush that burns on her cheeks.

"Got anything yet?" he asks, oblivious to what just happened between his two friends.

Not trusting her voice, Felicity just shakes her head.

She feels Oliver’s eyes on her, but refuses to meet his gaze.

Unable to stand it any longer, Felicity leaps up from her chair and rushes by Diggle toward the exit. ”Where are you going?” Diggle calls behind her.

 

"I need a drink," she shouts over her shoulder, thankful her voice doesn’t shake.

She hears the growl in Diggle voice as he turns back to Oliver. ”What did you do?!”

She can almost feel Oliver’s grin, but only hears the sounds of sticks smacking together and Diggle’s surprised grunt before she exits the Foundry.

Tequila. She decides. She needs tequila, and Tommy - because maybe he can explain to her what just happened. And definitely some ice.

The walk-in freezer should do for now, she thinks as she grabs the bottle of tequila and a confused Tommy’s hand as she heads for the kitchen.