justanother90sbaby:

Felicity was drunk.

Like, drunk drunk.

“I think we should dance,” Felicity said loudly to Oliver, hand clutching the sleeve of his suit.

“Definitely not. We need to get you home, or, rather, Ray does,” Oliver said, trying not to let the bitterness he felt seep into his voice. He staggered as Felicity leaned further into his side before pulling an arm around her waist, supporting her more thoroughly.

“That’s what Ray said,” Felicity rolled her eyes heavily, “This is a wedding. A party. A celebration of lives, joined together forever! Why aren’t we celebrating?” she asked, her voice gaining momentum as she spoke. Oliver quickly steered her out of the banquet hall as people began glancing their way.

When they reached the hallway, she leaned away from him, walking unsteadily past him.

"They really need to work on the floors here. They’re so steep,” she noted, and he tried not to laugh at her outrage.

"Felicity, their floors are fine. But you’re not,” he said with a heavy sigh, “Why are you doing?”

She stopped from where she had leaned down to pull off her heels, looking up at him slightly, “I’m taking off my heels. Obviously. What a silly question.” she snorted, grasping a heel in each hand and swinging them at her sides as she continued almost skipping away from him.

“Where are you going?” He asked, catching up to her.

“Party pooper says it’s time to go home,” Felicity said, before turning to him, “By the way, you’re the party pooper.”

“I figured.”

_________________

“You know, it’s ironic that you’re the one helping me when I’m drunk,” Felicity noted as she tossed her heels aimlessly in her room, a pout filling her lips when something loud crashed to the ground in the dark, “Oopsies.”

"Oh?” he responded simply, helping her out of her jacked as she struggled to get it off her arm.

“Yes. I mean, lets think of our track records here. Sure, you’ve sobered a lot. I think that’s a side effect of adulthood—but still, you’re Oliver Queen. Oliver freaking Queen. You and Tommy used to take Starling City’s club scene by the horns. Or, at least, that’s what everybody always says.”

"We were pretty crazy,” Oliver said, smiling in spite of himself before he slipped his hand into hers like it was completley natural, pulling her towards the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom.

“Sit,” Oliver commanded, and Felicity plopped on the closed toilet, still babbling up at him.

“But here we are—me completley wasted, you being the responsible one. It’s crazy. Out of this world.”

“I suppose,” Oliver said, looking through her medicine cabinet and pulling out her contact case, “Take those out.”

She followed his instructions, handing him back the case. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the fuzziness, before continuing.

“This is weird too, you know,” she said, watching him as he wet a rag in the sink.

“What is?” he asked, bending down in front of her. He wiped the smooth rag on her skin, her face hot to his touch. He slowly wiped the remaining makeup off from where it had smeared under her eyes.

“You. Here. In my bathroom,” she giggled, “You’re huge.”

“What?” he stopped from rinsing the rag to look at her in confusion.

“My bathrooms tiny—you take up most of it,” she noticed, a smile on her face. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, her hair a crazy mess of curls as she smiled up at him with bare lips, an oddity for Felicity.

He sighed.

She was still so beautiful.

He grabbed her toothbrush, squirting some out of the tube before handing it to her.

She took it, lazily brushing her teeth. as she looked up at him.

Suddenly though, she stopped, eyes going wide as she stood up straight and flinging open the toilet she had been sitting on, throwing up into it.

“Woah!” Oliver exclaimed, coming behind her as she sunk down to the ground, grabbing the hair that fell around her face and rubbing circles on her back.

“Ugh,” she said, wiping her mouth, “Please remind me in the morning to never drink again.”

“Will do,” he said, adjusting his grip on her hair.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft and full of guilt.

“Hey,” he soothed, “It’s fine. There’s no other girls hair I’d rather be holding,” he said, a smile in his voice. She laughed weakly.

“I think I’m okay now,” she said slowly, and he helped her stand up on uneasy legs.

She rinsed her mouth out again, brushing her teeth while Oliver retrieved a spare T-shirt from her drawer. 

He turned around while she changed quickly before crawling into bed.

“You okay?” Oliver asked, standing by the side of the bed. She nodded from droopy eyes.

“Okay,” he leaned down, kissing her lightly on the top of her head before turning form her.

Her hand on his arm though stopped him.

“Please, don’t leave,” Felicity almost whispered, looking up at him. He froze, unsure of if he had heard her right.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, still quiet, as though she wasn’t sure either if she was actually saying the words out loud.

“Of course,” he said, his voice a whisper as well. He was about to pull the chair closer to her bed when she scooted over to the other side, pulling the blankets back for him.

Shock was an understatement.

She was waiting though, expectantly, and he quickly shucked off his suit jacket, tie, vest, and shoes, sliding in next to her.

She instantly curled towards him, seeming to sigh in relief as her body formed to his.

He felt himself relax too as she lay her head on his chest, and he let himself put his arms around her.

“Thank you,” she muttered almost incoherently into the material of his shirt and he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m here for you, always,” he said, a promise, but she was already fast asleep.