15236/Seed of Doubt

Seed of Doubt
Date of Scene:	26 June 2023
Location:	Arrowcave
Synopsis:	Felicity worries to Oliver about her mysterious disappearance, and Oliver offers to take her to New York a few days early.
Cast of Characters:	Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen

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Felicity Smoak has posed:
A couple of hours had past since Roy left and planted that STUPID seed of doubt in Felicity's head. She had gone back to put the Tanooki costume back in the hazmat bag she was keeping it in and stored it, organized with the rest of the 'evidence.' Now she was sitting back at her desk. The music was still playing out into the Arrowcave, quieter than it had been when Roy entered before -- about the same, conversational volume as when he left -- but it was there. The bass line was just as driving.

Evidence.

She didn't like that word. Not when it was applied in a way that could implicate anyone on the team. Especially not when it could implicate Oliver.

Why hadn't she tested her blood for sedatives or other drugs? Because she was afraid of needles. That was all. Right? If Oliver drugged her, she would /definitely/ want to know. And she would follow it through, if she suspected him.

Right?

She's staring at her screen, looking at that spectral analysis from the suit side by side with pictures that the scanner took at the same time. But her eyes were unfocused. She wasn't /really/ looking at the results. She was trying to come up with Oliver's alibi. Because... it wasn't easy.

Oliver Queen has posed:
While he can frequently be the brooding one in their little collective, for a change Oliver has not been obsessing over some failure, or plotting how to deal with some criminal. No, for a change he has had something that almost resembles a normal sort of day -- or as normal as it gets for Star City's most prominent billionaire.

He's been at the office.

Stop the presses and all that. It's not something he particularly likes to do. He can, sometimes, be something of a negligent businessman. But he is a pretty big fan of their plans for more affordable, more reliable housing and given that their latest venture crosses over into his noctural activities, well, that helps to focus his attention as well.

Suffice to say, it has been a reasonably good and productive day thus far.

He has no idea just what he is walking into though.

It probably doesn't help that he is naturally pretty light on his feet. It's not that he is intentionally sneaking up on her or anything. He just doesn't think to call out when he steps into their secret lair. So Felicity might be just a little surprised when he is suddenly at her back, leaning out over her shoulder to peer at the monitor in front of her. "What's captured your attention so completely?" he asks mildly.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Felicity practically jumps out of her skin. It wouldn't have been more dramatic even if her keyboard had suddenly shocked her. She sucks in a breath, hands balling into little (quite useless) fighting fists up in front of her chest, and her whole body goes rigid -- shoulders up, back straight.

"DONTSNEAKUPONMELIKETHAT!"

Heart suddenly pounding, breath suddenly ragged, she takes a few seconds to accept the fact that it's Oliver before she breathes out a sigh of relief and sags forward a little, catching herself on the edge of her desk.

"Sometimes I think you must be part cat."

She lets out a little, stressed, nervous laugh and turns, giving his cheek a little nuzzle with her nose.

"Hi. Um... just.. a lot.. about.. the whole disappearing thing. You know. Where I..."

A pause.

"I didn't just like.. faint or anything, right? I mean.. it wasn't just a dream?"

There's more there. She's not great at keeping her cards held close to her chest where it comes to Oliver. Especially when she's this nervous.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Look, Oliver isn't completely above putting his finely-honed training to good use to sneak up on her from time to time. But he's never quite garnered that severe a reaction before. It's enough so that even his eyes widen a little and he lifts his hands up, palms out in a show of apology of sorts.

"Woah! Sorry, sorry, I didn't expect to catch you that much by surprise," he says, words a mix of contrition and concern, slowly lowering one hand back to his side, the other loosely draping about Felicity's shoulders. "No cat here. I don't do the animal theme. Far too overdone," he says with a brief smile, making his little gambit to lighten the mood.

It does not seem to have that much effect though, that tension in the background still very much palpable.

At the mention of her disappearance, a small frown slides across his expression and he gives a quick shake of his head. "You did not. We were talking, there was a flash of light and you were just gone. I spent a couple of minutes looking around the cave and then got on the horn to our friends and contacts to see what I could find out," he offers up with a small shrug.

Then his brow furrows. "Why would you think it was a dream? I mean, you reappeared right where you were in a racoon costume. That's pretty good evidence that you were definitely not dreaming. Though given what you described I'd be a lot more comfortable with the idea that it all was some sort of hallucination," he admits.

Riding fire-breathing dinos doesn't tend to be good for one's health afterall.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Felicity's mind was still spinning too fast, putting pieces together, her eyes moving behind her glasses in that quick, shifting pattern they did when she was searching through spreadsheets and indexes. Except they were looking right into Oliver's eyes, taking in each one.. one at a time as he speaks.

So, there she had it. From his own lips. She disappeared. So, if she found traces of a sedative...

What did that mean? That he was lying? Or that she disappeared /and/ she was drugged?

But there was nothing there.. not an inkling of doubt. Just the frown. The worry. She holds his gaze for a few seconds, and then she just.. kisses him. It's a sort of impulsive claiming of his lips -- a need to fill a space of uncertainty where she needed a little more reassurance.

And then, after a moment, she leans back again.

"Roy's back," she says. "And I was telling him about everything, and you know his past.. and he said it sounded just like something that would happen if someone was drugged. And he's /right/, getting drugged makes /way/ more sense than somehow getting teleported out of our secret base into some 1980s toy deathmatch arena, where I didn't even get /hurt/. But I said I couldn't have been drugged because you were standing here the whole time."

It all comes out in a rush. And then there's a beat where she's just staring at him. And suddenly her face is full of apology.

"...And... you were the only one that was here."

Another beat.

"...The whole time."

Oliver Queen has posed:
All in all Oliver has gotten fairly good at reading people over the years. Not that he is infallible at it by any means. That would be nice to be sure. And it would have saved him a lot of trouble. But like any skill it tends to grow a little more finely honed with exercise. And it helps to know the person fairly well too.

All of which is to say that the Emerald Archer has grown fairly good at reading Felicity. He can see it in her eyes, those thoughts churning away and even that kiss doesn't completely distract him as it might otherwise -- no matter how pleasant.

The seeming shift in topic catches him a little off-guard when that kiss finally breaks, brow furrowing slightly in consideration. "Good," he says quietly to the news that Roy has checked back in.

But that might be the last good bit of news for awhile. Because while she might not come right out and say things, Oliver is pretty good at readying between the lines.

The unspoken implication seems to surprise him a little, to take him aback. There is that initial impulse to react with anger, maybe even hurt but the once flippant billionaire has grown a little over the years.

Instead he rests hands on her shoulders, expression serious. "Felicity, we live in a world with aliens and Amazon princesses. One of my closest friends can break the sound barrier -- on foot -- without trying. There's magic and demons from other dimensions. Maybe for most people that might be true, but we don't exactly live the same kind of life as most people," he points out gently.

"Check on the computer logs," Ollie continues on quietly, reasonably. "You're going to see that I was tasking JLA satellites to look for you. Check the comm logs and you'll see I was reaching out to our friends. Probably not something someone who had just drugged you would be getting up to," he points out mildly.

"I'd like to think that I wouldn't hurt you or betray your trust, certainly not willingly," he adds, gaze locked on hers, intent and serious. Then a wicked grin curves over his expression. "Besides, while you were pretty adorable in the racoon costume, I much prefer you out of it."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
If Oliver could read Felicity well enough to see what was coming, he could also see that it hurt her as much to say the words as it did for him to hear them. She didn't like those thoughts. If /anyone/ else had accused him of anything close to that, she would have stood in front of him like a bulwark, defending him to her last breath.

The fact that it was /her/ had her... twisted up. She didn't like the thought of someone being able to steal her out of what was essentially one of her three homes (between the office, the Arrowcave, and her apartment). It was one thing to be snatched off the street. That she could watch for. Or have someone guard her, if she /really/ had to. This was right under Oliver's nose, and that was more terrifying than anything else. If he didn't do it? That meant he couldn't stop it, either.

"I know."

Her blue eyes dip, ashamed as soon as he starts. She could see the truth before he'd even spoken the first word, but she let him continue. She should hear the rest of it, even if it felt a little like punishment to suffer the stern seriousness in his tone and the hurt that she knew must be buried under there, being forced to convince /her/, of all people, that he didn't spontaneously decide to drug her.

"I don't need to check the logs." She didn't. Her eyes lift to him again, and her hands lift to his arms, wrapping slender fingers and dark painted nails around his wrists just to hang on to that connection at her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I /know/ you wouldn't. This while thing is just..."

Well, whatever she was going to say is completely derailed by the racoon costume comment, and it makes her suddenly purse those dusty purple lips as a blush reaches up into her cheeks. It makes her more coy, but there's a glint that almost mirrors his own in response.

"That almost sounded like a suggestion."

And then she's leaning in again, this time just to brush the tip of her nose along the side of his. It put them close, but she didn't quite brush her lips against his.

"Almost."

Oliver Queen has posed:
At the end of the day all of that is why any anger or hurt Oliver might feel at the unspoken questions in her eyes fades away long before it has a chance to take root.

She has been through a traumatic experience, one that sounds like something more suited to a drug-induced fever dream. And if it sounds that way, he can only imagine what it was like to live through it. He's been through his fair share of crazy experiences in his time, so while he might have to imagine, it's not exactly a big leap They are at the very least in the same neighborhood.

It is also not hard to reason out that she's probably feeling more then a little conflicted about those unformulated concerns and doubts that hide there behind her eyes. It's a case where it really might hurt her more then it hurts him. And Ollie doesn't want that either.

So when her head starts to dip his hand quckly comes up, fingers catching her chin, cradling it gently there in his fingers. "You've been through something completely crazy. If it didn't bend your mind at least a little you might already be crazy, so it's probably reassuring that you're questioning exactly what did happen," he admits with a wry chuckle. "Check the logs. Go over the satellite readings. Put that racoon suit through every test you can think of. You'll feel better and that will make me feel better," he says, leaning in to press a quick, soft kiss to her lips.

Then his forehead is resting against her own, arms sliding around her to draw her in close, mouth still curved into a smile. "It got you to smile at the very least. So mission at least half-way accomplished," he says lightly though those arms tighten around her ever so slightly. "Still, I think maybe we should consider heading to New York a few days early. Maybe take a little time for ourselves before we really get down to work there."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Felicity's watching him the whole time her chin rests in his fingers, the soft rise and fall of her shoulders the only movement of her body as she slowly breathes, drinking in his words with a kind of awe in her eyes that makes it blatant how appreciative she is of his patience and understanding.

She returns that kiss, and she was going to say something... something not as important as the way his forward tilts to rest against hers. Whatever it was slips away as her eyes slide closed and she sinks completely against him, savoring the feeling of his strength and his warmth.

A soft laugh breaks the complete tranquility of that moment at the mention of smiling, pulling herself closer in response...

..Right up until he drops that suggestion.

And then she's loosening her grip on him and leaning back to look in his eyes again, excitement glinting there that she was careful to keep restrained even if it looked like she was ready to jump out of her chair at him.

"Are you serious? You would do that?"

Oliver Queen has posed:
They don't exactly lead a nine-to-five existence at anytime. And while it is probably fair to say that she works considerably harder at her 'day-job' then he does, it's not exactly like he's kicking back and taking it easy. Vacation time is definitely something that is more of a luxury then a common occurence. And realistically that's probably not going to change. They are both a little bit driven afterall.

But everyone needs to slowdown and recharge now and then. No matter how mentally strong, the human mind, the human spirit can only take so much. And they take on a lot.

So Oliver smiles, another low chuckle escaping him as he leans back just a little to meet her gaze once more. "We're not exactly talking a hardship here," he says wryly, one finger lifting up to playfully boop the tip of her nose. "I think we could both use the break. We can take in a few sights. Get dressed up and spend a little time out on the town," he says before his voice drops a note, the corners of his mouth quirking slightly. "Then the real fun can start when I get you back to the penthouse to get you right back out of those clothes."

Hey, he has his priorities straight.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
And then Felicity /does/ throw herself out of her chair at him. Arms snaking up around his shoulders, she pulled herself up against him without any restraint and buried her face into his neck (which also smooshed her glasses in the process, but she didn't seem to notice or care about that).

Vacations would always be few and far between, but more that the sights of New York, it was the time with Oliver she wanted -- and granted, this time, the time outside of the source of her sudden disappearance added its own measure of relief, no matter where it took them.

"Thank you," she says, one hand firmly on the back of his neck, other fingers splayed against the back of his head, just holding herself to him for a few seconds before she pulls back and looks at him again. It's relief in her eyes. Relief, happiness, and gradually, a return of that playful glint.

"I can't wait. And I'll.. be sure to pack something appropriately fun for you to find underneath."

She was so awkward. She knew she would never hold a candle to some of the women that Oliver had been with in terms of raw sexuality, but it showed in the affection in her eyes that she was /trying/.

Oliver Queen has posed:
As if he needed a reason, her reaction is certainly more then enough. It's almost possible to see the tension drain out of her. How much better will they both feel after a little time literally away from it all?

Chuckling quietly, he catches Felicity as she all but throws herself back into his arms, letting them enfold her close as one hand slips up the back of her neck to play in the fringes of her hair. "Hey, I'm probably looking forward to it almost as much as you. So thank you," he insists with a laugh before turning his head ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

Again that smile takes on something of a wicked caste and he leans back just enough so he can make a show of his gaze running down over her. "Well now I really can't wait," he murmurs before winking at her, fingers stroking lightly through her hair, letting it slip between them.

"So... assuming that you don't have anything too pressing at work and assuming that you can get ready in time why don't we plan to leave the day after tomorrow?" he suggests, his grip on her loosening just a little though apparently not willing to let her slip away entirely. "I'll check to see if we can take possession of the place I rented a little earlier, but worse comes to worst it will just have to be hotel room service for us for a few days. Oh nooooo."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
It's hard to describe how blissfully happy Felicity is in that exact moment -- the way her eyes closed when he strokes her hair, the soft sound she makes when he kisses her neck, the laugh and red-cheeked blush that followed his reassuring comment about not being able to wait. If she could float to the ceiling in that moment and take him with her, she might have.

"Sold," she says, wrists still draped over his shoulders, fingers clinging lightly to the back of his neck. As much as he didn't want to let her go, she didn't seem to have any intention of letting go, either.

Except, at the mention of hotel room service, she tsks softly and shakes her head.

"I don't know how we'll survive," she says. "A hot breakfast delivered to our room every morning, a bottle of wine with dinner every evening..." Apparently, she already had notions of what /that/ might look like. "It's a hard life, Oliver, but we'll manage. Together."

And even though the joke that's there, there's something deeper in her eyes that speaks to the truth of that statement -- her absolute certainty that they would manage, together.