#ollictyfic

[olicitysmoaky]

Tinseltown (PART 2/8)

(Read on AO3)

Oliver reluctantly extracted himself from Felicity's arms and let his eyes sweep over her form. Her dress clung to curves he remembered at the same time felt as if he had absolutely no acquaintance with at all. She was every bit the beautiful girl he’d fallen for that summer but so much more of a woman. His tongue actually grew heavier in this mouth. That was a thing that happened apparently. And his senses tingled with familiarity and newness. And did he mention that she smelled damned good.

"Oliver... I... I can't believe it,” she said, nibbling a bit on the impossibly red lower lip.

"Neither can I, Felicity." He grinned so wide, he felt his cheeks sting.

"An agent? Impressive,” she said, tilting her head.

"I think all the wows going around in this room should be directed toward you. You look amazing, Felicity."

Felicity blushed, causing Oliver’s heart to flutter a bit at the sight of it.  "The room is dripping with supermodels and movie stars."

"Still can't take a compliment?" he asked, his voice was soft as he stepped closer to her again. He heard her breath hitch. He told himself to hold back, to not touch her, but her skin looked so inviting. Her blue eyes searched his. “Felicity…” He tipped her chin up with a gentle finger.

"Uh, Felicity?” someone said behind her. But Oliver didn’t feel like bothering to turn around to see who it was. “Felicity?” the irritating intruder said again before invading her space and tapping her on the shoulder. Felicity whipped around, breaking their little spell to look at Chad Michaelson, a guy who played on some show on TNT now that his soap career had fizzled out. He was one of those model types that came from Iowa and made it halfway as soon as he stepped off the bus. No talent. Not a client Oliver would never take on.

“Michaelson,” Oliver said, acknowledging the man. He was dating one of his clients but Oliver knew that relationships lasted as long as a custom car wash around this town. Still, he didn’t think the guy was right for his Felicity. What was he saying? She wasn’t his anything. She really never been, had she? It had just been one summer. One summer he’d thought he’d fallen so hard he might not ever be able to get up again.

“Queen,” the pseudo-celebrity man-child said, puffing out his chest. Oliver had two inches on him easy. But he wasn’t about to turn this into peeing contest – the Felicity he’d known would never have gone for that.

“I'm sorry, Chad,” said Felicity. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, but I see you two already know each other.”

“Yeah,” he said, eyeing Oliver then flitting his eyes back to Felicity’s. “It's okay, baby." He leaned down, closer to her ear and whispered a little too loudly, "I just wanted to invite you back to my place for a little private party.”

Felicity laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder, and breathing seductively in his ear. "Normally, I'd jump at the chance, but I have a root-canal at 8am. Gotta get my rest.” Felicity stepped back, patting his shoulder. "Sorry, about that.”

"You do know who I am, don't you?"

Felicity raised her eyebrows at him.

Oliver watched the exchange amused and more than turned on. Felicity hadn't changed.

Chad sighed, seeming to accept defeat. He turned to Oliver. "Good luck, man. She is one hot tomato." Chad looked like he was about to reach out and squeeze Felicity’s ass, but Oliver slapped a heavy hand on his shoulder before he completed his douche bag send off. “Cold fish probably wouldn’t appreciate it anyway.” He stumbled off, heading for the circle of women gathered around in the far-right corner, looking right at him. He watched as the idiot grinned at the group of women. His night was clearly far from over.

Oliver held out his arms as Felicity turned back to him. "So, uh, do you want to dance?”

“You dance, Oliver Queen? In all my life never have I once seen you dance.”

“Trust me, my mother made sure I knew the basics by the time I was twelve.”

“Waltzing and fox trotting don’t look like they’re on the menu,” Felicity teased.

“Then we’ll improvise.”

***

Felicity melted into his embrace. It wasn’t fair how right it felt to be in his arms again. The music slowed, as if on cue, and Felicity rested her head on Oliver's shoulder. Slowly, without prompting from either, the pair began swaying softly to the music.

Felicity lifted her head, and gave Oliver a soft, shy smile. He could still unnerve her like no one else. Felicity Smoak, barracuda attorney-at-law, a pile of muddled mush in the arms of the old high school crush she’d dated for half a summer after her sophomore year at UC Berkeley. She’d turned eighteen that year, and he’d waited for her. He’d been twenty-two after all, and Oliver was a good guy who wanted to make sure she was respected. But even before they’d gotten together, Oliver had been special to her. He’d been someone she could trust to support her, to see her as more than just the geeky blonde in glasses who tutored all his senior friends when she was still in Freshman Comp. Deftly, she cleared her throat, trying to regain her senses. "So, Oliver..." her breath sputtered shakily across his neck. "You live here, I imagine."

"Yeah," Oliver smiled, then swallowed trying to moisten his dry throat. He was never this out of control, not any more. "I heard you just moved here."

"Oh, so you've talked to Barry, huh?"

"Yeah." Oliver did not know what else to say. He knew what he wanted to say, but he just couldn't. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.

They continued to sway to the music. Felicity felt so alive her skin buzzed and her heart spun. She couldn't believe that a few moments before she was ready to pass out from exhaustion. Right now, she felt like she could run a marathon and still have enough energy to do the Tango with Oliver between her legs all night long. She shook her head. She really should not be having such thoughts about him. Not now. Not like this. Oliver's strong hand swept up her back. Felicity bit back a moan. He was not making this easy.

"So, what brought you to LA?"

"My law firm opened an office out here. I got upped to junior partner if I made the move.”

“Junior partner at 26?”

Felicity shrugged. “Your math is good.”

“I know you graduated from college at the same time some of us were just struggling to get a high school diploma but still…” Felicity blushed at his flattery. “You’re remarkable.”

“I don’t know about that. Obsessive maybe,” she said on a sigh. The lights dimmed around them. It may have been a signal that the party was ready to shut down, but she couldn’t stop her mouth from continuing. “Anyway, I had no real ties in New York, except Barry and a few other friends. I, also, was lucky enough to have one of my best friends, Silvia, make the move with me in the office, followed by two crotchety men in their fifties."

Barry was just a friend. He thought that was what she was saying. "So, um, your office is small?"

"No actually, Silvia and I were put in charge of recruiting the new staff. Right now, we are four partners, three juniors, and seven assistants."

"Sounds nice."

"It is."

Felicity sighed and put her head back on Oliver's shoulder.

"Would you belt me if I asked you to join me for one of my little private parties... courtesy of Starbucks?"

Felicity smiled, and shook her head against his shoulder. "I'd love to, Oliver." She felt like a kid again. She was insecure in his arms, and at the same time more comfortable than she'd ever been.

Oliver let his hands roam the contours of her shapely back, as he rested his cheek against her soft blonde hair.

"I see we've found our dates!" Barry shouted, coming up behind them, as the music slipped into a techno-beat tempo. Maureen had her arm linked through his.

Felicity and Oliver jumped apart.

"Don't worry," Barry laughed. "We're not going to punish you for getting too fresh on the dance floor." He winked at Felicity. She blushed. He could say such embarrassingly dorky things sometimes.

Felicity cheeks burned. Oliver scratched the purposefully organized scruff that littered his jaw.

"Oliver, sweetheart, I'm really tired. Do you think we could leave?" Maureen stepped away from Barry and leaned on Oliver.

Felicity's eyes widened at the presence of Maureen Anders. She was Oliver's date? The Victoria's Secret model's picture was plastered all over every fashion magazine in the country. Suddenly, Felicity felt every level of inadequacy she’d ever felt corkscrew through her veins. Damn. What had she been thinking? She really hadn’t put much coherent thought other than Oliver since she she’d seen him. Now, she was that awkward geek who’d started Starling Prep without a clue of how to even speak in front of the people who lived in his world – the beautiful people. But that summer, she’d found out Oliver was more than just an image. He was a man who brought out the parts of her she didn’t believe could shine. But they’d been so young. She had school to start, and he’d just returned home to spend time with his sister after being away for so long. Then, he’d left to find his way in the world so she could do the same for herself. He claimed he’d slow her down, that he was a mess. And then she saw him at Tommy and Laurel's wedding about a year later. They'd been overly polite to each other, feeling the eyes on them in the room. They'd left without saying a real word to each other. It had gutted her really, but after about a year, she’d decided that those insanely deep feelings had likely been one-sided and perhaps to him being her first – anything really. So, she went about the business of growing up. Eventually, the painful memory of that beautiful time lost became a sweet memory—a solvent in times of bad dates and six-month relationship break-ups.

"That's not a bad idea, Maureen,” Oliver was saying. “Barry, would you and Felicity like a ride with us?"

"Actually, I have a rental. A Porsche, actually." Barry smiled bashfully, knowing that such a revelation would not be a big deal to Oliver no matter how far he’d fallen or how it long it took him to power his way back up – on his own merit. But it was a big deal to him. He’d arrived – sort of.

"Well, um..." Oliver looked lost. Was he wanting to leave with Maureen but feeling obligated to stay and spend time with old friends?

"Oliver, it's okay,” Felicity supplied. “We can catch up another time."

***

Oliver did not like the sound of that. Another time, could mean two months from now, or never. "Felicity, why don't you and Barry give me your cell numbers, so I know where to reach you?”

As Felicity fumbled for the clasp on her tiny shoulder bag to look for whatever it was she wanted to look for, Oliver stepped a little closer to her, hoping only she could hear him. "I'd like to keep that date, if possible." He sounded like a desperate idiot, and desperate idiot was not Oliver Queen’s forte. He prided himself on being capable sure and highly focused. Felicity was a fond memory from the past not this flesh and blood creature of near perfection standing in front of him. Now, all he wanted was a chance to know her again, pretty much everything else be damned right about now.

She pulled out her business card and scribbled her address on the back. She then held her palm facing up, after placing the tiny cream-colored card in Oliver's hand. “Phone?” she squeaked, blushing a bit. Oliver handed her his phone, and she quickly punched her contact information into it.

For backup, Oliver reached into his pocket and handed a personal card to Barry then a second to Felicity. "Private cell's on there. Just don't let that float around,” said Oliver. "When do you leave, Barry?" he asked, taking his sister’s old friend’s card from him. The card exchange was so Hollywood, and so surreal as he was doing it with people he’d known most of his life, people that meant more to him than a simple network connection. “It was really good to see you. Thea was just here last week.”

“I know. I hate that I missed her, but I'll be here for the rest of the week."

"Stop by my office, and I’ll take you to lunch.” Oliver wanted to say, especially if you bring Felicity, but he refrained.

Barry smiled then turned to Felicity. “I'll go get our coats."

"Wait, Barry. I'll go with you and get Oliver's and mine," said Maureen. She really seemed to want to get out of there. Either that or she was angling for a part in Barry’s new movie.

"No. The line is a mad house. Let me get them," said Oliver.

"It's okay, Oliver. I'm a big girl." She dashed off behind the lanky director before Oliver could get another word in.

"Should I pick you up at your place?" Oliver looked down at Felicity's card. Century City. The Tower. Avenue of the Stars, #3620. He let out a short laugh. "Do you realize, we've been living five minutes away from each other since you got here?" He smiled.

Felicity’s eyebrows shot up. "Wow…That’s, uh, ironic, maybe or at least really weird. I don’t know why we haven’t seen each other. Of course, this is a really big city, but there are like people I run into all the time I live close by to you know like the gym or maybe the grocery store or—Oh, God. I still kinda run off at the mouth, I’m so sorry."

Oliver sighed. God, he’d missed her. "So, we’re gonna do this, huh?” She reached out and squeezed his hand.

Oliver's eyes slipped shut and he dug his teeth into his lip. That sensation was tortuously sweet.

"Pick me up in an hour. As much as I love this dress, I think a bit more casual wear is suited for Starbucks."

"Nah." Oliver titled his head, enjoying the simple contact between them. "I think it's more a come as you are kind of a joint."

"True enough," Felicity laughed, finally letting his hand go.

"Well, what do you say we go and find our dates, so we can get out of here?"

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