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10:55pm – Oliver
It was loud. Even standing back at the bar where he was, the sound of the band on the stage carried over the space enough that Oliver could feel the lower notes reverberating in his chest. They were good, this band, Felicity was right. More than once he found himself tapping his finger along with the music, hitting the side of his beer bottle with silent rhythm. He hadn’t been sure he was going to come, wasn’t entirely sure she’d be here either, but she was. He’d spotted her almost immediately, blond hair down from her usual ponytail, a soft pink top, bouncing to the music near the front of the stage.
He should go over, he tells himself. She had wanted him to come, hadn’t she? That’s what it had sounded like on Tuesday when they were going over his presentation to the board. It had been another excuse to see her, that meeting. He found himself doing that a lot lately. There was just something about her. Ever since he’d spilled a latte on his brand new Queen Consolidated issued laptop and had sheepishly asked Walter Steele who could fix it for him, he’d been hooked. This brilliant and bubbly woman who’d made him smile for the first time in what felt like forever.
His first year working at Queen Consolidated had been… challenging. He’d only finally graduated from Starling University (the fourth on his tour of colleges) by the skin of his teeth, and only then because his parents had hired a ‘minder’ for him (they called him a body guard, but Oliver knew what they were really up to). But John Diggle has been good for him, showing him how to channel his restless energy away from girls and booze and into fitness and sport. Now he was a runner, a kick-boxer, and a fairly decent shot at archery. But in the business world, he still felt in over his head. And knowing he was, one day, supposed to take over this legacy, only added to his feelings of inadequacy.
Oliver takes another pull of his beer then sets the bottle down on the sticky bar top to clap along with the rest of the crowd. Felicity had asked if he knew this band as he was shutting his computer down at the end of their meeting. She’d been wearing a polka dot blouse that day, and a black pencil skirt that hugged her delectable ass in all the right places (Oliver could be honest enough with himself to admit that he’d noticed) and they’d been chatting so easily in that way they seemed to always fall into when she mentioned it. She had asked if he knew their music, and he shook his head. With a sunny smile she’d said he should check out their show this Friday, and then she had paused. It was an opening if Oliver had ever seen one, a chance to suggest that maybe they could go together. But then a rumble of butterflies erupted in his stomach and he found he couldn’t get the words out. What if he was reading things wrong, his brain fretted. What if asking her was going to make things colossally awkward? So he had left it, and kicked himself for his lost chance the rest of the week.
But it wasn’t lost, John pointed out to him. He could still go, and maybe she would be there. And after changing his mind at least a dozen times, Oliver decided to go for it. Only now, the nerves are back, and Oliver finds himself watching from the back, waffling again.
Another song ends and he claps. Noticing his beer is empty and, not knowing what else to do with himself, he orders another. Waiting on the bartender, he checks his watch. 11:11. When he grabs his drink and turns back around, his heart skips a beat. Felicity is right in front of him.
10:55pm – Felicity
It was loud. Felicity knew it would leave a ring in her ears later, but she loved the feeling of the notes, the chords, pushing their way into her bones. Plus this band was really great, one of her new favourites, so she couldn’t help but think that it was worth it. Even if it wasn’t quite how she had pictured it, or at least not who she had pictured it with.
Felicity first met Oliver Queen in her IT cubicle, when he’d brought her a state of the art laptop literally dripping with coffee. Her eyes had nearly bugged out of her head at the sight of it, this beautiful piece of tech that was almost definitely ruined. It was so distracting that it took her a minute to notice the beautiful man holding it. When she’d taken it from his hand, he’d pulled up a chair next to her, watching her work with trepidation, hoping she could save his files. So she’d chatted, because that’s what she does and, to her surprise, he had chatted back. Their friendship (and she was most definitely confident enough to give it that label) had only grown from there. And for Felicity, it was growing into something more.
When she’d learned this band was playing in Starling, she’d immediately wanted to go. And in her overactive brain, she pictured Oliver there with her, his shoulder bumping into hers, their fingertips brushing together, as they stood in the crowded space. But that was silly, wasn’t it? The idea of an outing that could very much be a date? So she’d stopped short of asking him outright and mentioned the show in conversation instead. When he didn’t bite, she thought that would be the end of her fantastical notion. Only it wasn’t.
“Maybe he was too nervous to ask,” Iris had offered when she had brought it up, and Felicity couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.
“Yeah, right,” she had replied. “Oliver Queen, playboy of Starling City, too shy to ask IT girl Felicity Smoak to a concert.”
Iris levelled her with a look. “I think you know better than most how un-playboy Oliver Queen is these days,” she’d said, and Felicity couldn’t help but concede that she was right. The Oliver that she knew, the one she could talk with so easily, that laughed with her, that looked at her with soft eyes and made goosebumps erupt on her skin, he wasn’t the playboy of tabloids from years ago. But Felicity couldn’t bring herself to broach the topic with him again, so she’d asked Iris to come with her instead.
She and Iris are at the front of the crowd, bouncing in time with the music in the small circle of space they have. The ice in Felicity’s glass rattles as she moves, the only remnants of her gin and tonic. She has time for another drink, she thinks to herself; it’s only 11:11, and two gin and tonics isn’t anybody’s idea of binge drinking. So when the song ends, Felicity tells Iris she’s headed for the bar. As she winds her way through the crowd, broad shoulders and a sandy head of hair at the bar catch her attention. No, she thinks to herself, it can’t be. But almost without thought she moves towards him anyway. He turns around and her heart skips a beat. Oliver is right in front of her.
11:11pm
“Oliver!” She doesn’t keep the delighted surprise out of her voice, she isn’t sure that she could have even if she’d wanted to. In a rush, all the thoughts she’d had about being here with him, of feeling his arm around her waist and being close enough to smell his cologne, push themselves to the front of her mind again and she can’t help but find herself wishing for them to come true.
It occurs to her, for one horrifying second, that he might be here with someone else, and she could be putting herself in the middle of a place where she doesn’t belong. But then his eyes light up and he gives her that smile that makes her heart swoop and, just like that, the fear runs aside and she knows, at the very least, he’s happy to see her.
“You came,” she says stating the obvious, but too full of wonder to keep it in. He gives her a shy smile and the look is unfairly attractive on him.
“Well, yeah,” he says, still a little tentative, “you said I should check them out, so… here I am.”
“I’m glad,” she answers, and she sees him relax, just a little. Suddenly, Iris’s idea that he might have been nervous doesn’t seem so far fetched, and Felicity can’t help but wonder if, maybe, they’re more on the same page than she realized. The thought sends a thrill down her spine.
“I’ve been up at the front,” she tells him, setting her empty glass down on the bar. “Have you been back here the whole time?”
He shrugs. “I’m not really an up-at-the-front kind of guy,” he says before adding, with what sounds like more confidence than before, “but maybe I should give it a try.”
“Or…” she says, drawing out the word and daring to take a step forward. She’s close enough now that she has to look up at him a bit and she discovers she really likes the feeling. “Maybe we could compromise. Middle?”
“Middle,” he agrees with a grin and those soft eyes she loves so much.
Before she can talk herself out of it, she reaches out to grab his forearm between her hands and gives him a little tug as she takes a step back. He willingly follows her lead. As she steers them through the crowd, her hand slips down his arm until she feels the back of his hand under her fingertips. Instead of pulling away, he flips his hand over, offering the warmth of his palm before tangling their fingers together tightly enough that she knows he doesn’t want to let go. Her heart beats a little faster.
They weave their way through the forest of bodies towards the center of the standing-room only space. When she figures they’ve made it about halfway up, Felicity pulls them into an empty nook that they carve into their own. She watches the stage and automatically starts to bob to the beat. She sees Iris ahead of her, her dark hair swishing around her shoulders as she moves. Felicity manages to catch her eye with a little wave. When her friend sports an excited smile and gives her a somewhat discrete thumbs up, Felicity knows she’s spotted Oliver. She tries in vain to hide her giddiness.
The song ends and they cheer, another starts and Felicity begins to move in time with the music again. In the dim light she looks up at Oliver, the light and shadow playing so delightfully across his jaw, and she can’t help but think that it feels like a perfect moment. Then he looks down at her with a beaming smile and she quickly revises her definition of perfect to include that smile on his face.
He squeezes her hand, she squeezes back. He doesn’t let go.
12:11am
Oliver is fairly certain he has a new favorite band. Even if he had hated every note they played (which he didn’t, he actually thought they were quite good), they would still probably hold the title. Because being here tonight with Felicity, is magic.
She’s radiant, shining blond hair and creamy skin dancing under the lights, and no matter how many times he looks down to see her there, he still can’t quite believe that this amazing woman is next to him, settling her body against his, holding his hand. It makes his chest flutter.
The nervousness he felt earlier in the night has faded. She wants him here, he’s sure of that now. But as the night goes on and the band starts to close out their set, he can’t help but feel a new sort of fluster, one that speaks of next steps and possibilities. It’s exciting and terrifying all at once.
The band pretends to say goodnight, before coming back for an encore. Felicity cheers loudly and raises their joined hands to clap against her free one. She bounces to the music and sings every word of the last two songs, and Oliver knows he spends more time watching her than he does the band.
As the show ends and the crowd around them starts to flow away from the stage, Oliver stays rooted to the spot, unwilling to give up the moment quite yet. Instead of being filled with the sound of the band, the space is now filled with the din of echoed conversations. Felicity looks up at him, eyes shining, and asks in a hopeful voice “So, did you like it?”
He takes her in for a moment, her flushed cheeks and her marvelous smile, and answers with nothing but the truth. “It was amazing.”
“Felicity!” he hears another voice say, and he looks past Felicity for the first time in what feels like hours to see a pretty women in a flowing white blouse coming towards them.
“Iris, hey!” Felicity answers with joy before turning to him to say “Oliver, this is my friend Iris.”
“Nice to meet you,” he offers. Iris gives him a sly smile in return.
“And nice to finally meet you Oliver,” she says. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” he asks without thinking, and wants to kick himself as soon as the words are out. But Iris just laughs good naturedly and says “All good things, I promise.” She turns her attention to Felicity then and shakes the phone that’s clutched in her hand. “I’ve called Barry for a ride home. You still want us to drop you off?”
“Uh, yes, of course,” Felicity answers. “I mean I should go home, to my home. To bed. Tonight.”
Felicity folds her lips together to stop the ramble and Oliver can’t help how his mouth quirks up in response. Iris, he notices, is trying to hide a smile too.
“Ok, great,” says Iris. “I’ll just go wait outside,” she gestures, phone in hand, to the front of the bar, “and I’ll text you when he gets here.” When Felicity nods in agreement, Iris turns to him one more time and says “Have a good night, Oliver,” before walking away with a knowing smile.
“I hope that’s ok,” Felicity blurts out when it’s just the two of them again. “Don’t get me wrong, I am having an incredible time with you, I just…didn’t want to assume…”
Oliver shakes his head to tell her apologies aren’t necessary. “Of course it’s ok,” he says. Then he tilts his head toward the front of the bar and gives her hand a tug. “Let me walk you to the door.”
She walks with him, his hand clutched in both of hers. He can’t help but think how hard it will be to have to let it go again.
“I had a really great time tonight,” he tells her as they cross the distance. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for understanding I was trying to,” she answers.
As they near the front doors, their pace slows. His reluctance to part with her seems to be mutual. Together they tuck themselves out of the flow of foot traffic, pressing close together. Felicity, Oliver realizes, made the first move in trying to get them here, and it’s only fair that he make the next. With a gentle pressure on her hip, he gets her to spin so they’re face to face. He wants her to see his eyes, to know he’s serious as he asks it.
“Would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“Yes,” she answers, nodding before she can even get the word out.
“Great,” he answers around a smile he can’t keep in. “It’s a date.”
They stay that way in the dim light of the bar, his hand on her hip, pressing closer and closer together. His eyes drift down to her mouth and map the shape of her lips still coloured with a dark pink stain. She starts to push up on her toes, and he moves in to meet her…
The chime of Felicity’s phone startles them both. She brings it out of her pocket and they both see the bright screen.
12:34am Iris West – Barry’s here.
She drops down to her heels again and gives him an apologetic smile.
“My ride’s here,” she says.
“I’ll walk you out,” he answers.
He sees her to the car, a bright red Mazda pulled up at the curb, and waves to Iris who’s already settled into the front seat. Even as she drives away, Oliver can’t help but feel a lightness in his chest. He may not have gotten to kiss Felicity tonight, but that’s alright. He knows it will happen, knows this thing between them is something. He’s felt it since the first time she saw her. He’s known it from the beginning.