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He was 12 the first time he heard the pun. By 13 he'd mastered the fake oh-you're-so-clever grin whenever his "friends" used it. (Though they never managed to stay friends long afterwards.) By 15 he was finally brave enough to put his foot down and face his mother: no more dancing. In his self absorbed teenage mind he imagined his dancing at the ninth grade social becoming headline news across all of Starling city's rag magazines and papers. The sheer horror at the prospect was enough to follow him into adulthood. It got to the point where Starling City's women knew better than to even suggest it, each having tried and failed in the attempt.
Oliver Queen did not dance.
Until tonight. Tonight, watching Ray Palmer two step with Felicity, he was seriously reconsidering that statement. Well, watching was generous, glaring might be the term that Diggle would use. In fact that glaring was the term that Diggle used right before he left with Laurel to "dodge cops and grab grub".
"Oliver, stop glaring at Ray. Or at least blink," John teased, "He's here to help and you're fresh out of plans, remember?."
To his credit Oliver did take John's advice, and he had to admit, his eyes felt much better after blinking a few times.
Oliver grunted and returned to sharpening his already sharp arrows. He was forced to invite Ray over in order to practice controlling the Atom suit. They'd been at it for hours on end. Oliver would mock punch Diggle, nothing would happen and Ray would re-calibrate the suit. Oliver would then mock punch at some Laurel, more nothing would happen, and Ray would once again re-calibrate the suit. Sometimes Ray would speak technobabble with Felicity and Barry but otherwise it was wash, rinse, and repeat. (Did he mention Barry was there as well? Because he was. Apparently Barry heard about the situation and wanted to help out his partner.) To say that he was irritated would be an understatement.
It all came to a head when Ray tried to suggest that Oliver was the problem. That perhaps his heart rate was elevated and he should relax. It was almost all Oliver could do not to kick him in the gut again. The rest of his all was spent answering Ray, "calmly",
"I am relaxed," he breathed through his teeth. Ray stared at him and Oliver could see him calculating. Oliver stared back. Perhaps everyone else was fooled by Ray's happy-go-lucky persona but Oliver still thought the man was unstable. Even more so when he learned about Ray's dead fiance. No one, in Oliver's ample experience had ever made a turn around in grief that quickly. To him Ray's eyes were black holes absorbing and negating all light. He'd never understand what it was about Ray that convinced Felicity to date him. But if nothing else he trusted Felicity's judgement. He always had.
Looking away Oliver sighed, "Maybe we should take a break. Blow off some steam." And with that he marched himself to a table and began methodically shaping an arrowhead, studiously ignoring all of them. At some point though he imagined he heard Barry recounting how in Central City they'd sometimes have spontaneous dance parties. Something about endorphines, moods and some study by some doctor lady. But sure he was hallucinating, Oliver tuned them out. Rule number 45 of surviving: Don't listen to the hallucinations.
It wasn't a hallucination. Not two minutes later Laurel and Diggle returned with bruises and food respectively, and a moment later they were eating and dancing and laughing.
Oliver sighed. He wouldn't begrudge them a moment of levity. Diggle told him once that the best laugh he'd ever had was right before the worst battle of his life, and that he should take good opportunities when life presented them.
Thus, like the cantankerous old man Barry jokingly accused him of being, Oliver focused on his arrowhead sculpting. He ignored the tinny music emanating from Laurel's phone. He ignored Barry's jerky, blurry, "dance" moves. He barely managed to ignore Diggle lip syncing 70s pop music. And he easily ignored Ray excusing himself to go re-calibrate the suit. He could not, however, ignore the soft but firm hand that entered into his line of vision before coming to rest lightly on top of his.
Oliver inhaled sharply. The scent of Felicity's conditioner filled his lungs. If only she knew how much he craved her touch. If only she could feel the electricity that raced through his body and shocked his heart alive.
Oliver turned to his right slowly, cherishing every second of their shared proximity. He was greeted with a reserved smile and observant gray eyes. His eyes flicked over her face, lingering on her lips, purple tonight, and climbing back up to her flicking eyes as she did the same to him. Realization crawled over him as though someone cracked an egg over his head (something Tommy actually once did). He knew her strengths and flaws, physical and otherwise, and her tells; right now she was biting the inside of her lip because she wanted something but was afraid to ask-she would anyway and he loved that about her- and it wasn't enough.
It would never be enough. He wanted all of her all of the time. At least what time he had left.
Felicity tilted her head in an angle very reminiscent of the first time they met and the way she looked up at him from beneath her lashes...something clicked. It was as though his ears and eyes opened, truly opened, for the first time in years.
If you're staying, I'm staying.
I thought that things would be different.
I do know two things:you are not alone and I believe in you.
You're always saying how you want me to be happy. The thing is as long as you're in my life I am.
Come home.
Oliver gazed at Felicity in awe, feeling the truth in every tingling synapse and nerve ending in his body.
She loved him.
Maybe she'd never said the words, perhaps she'd never say them but they shone through every action and were the force behind her multitude of words.
A deep calm settled over him and because his brain never stopped, somewhere in a corner of his mind, he was aware that the suit had come online.
"Felicity..." Her name crossed his lips like a feather on a breeze. And since he read her as easily as she read him, he could tell by the way that her forehead wrinkled, and her eyes widened that she saw, that she knew, that he finally finally, understood.
She loved him.
And though he had his insecurities he was willing to try, because if nothing else, he trusted her judgement.
In a slow, deliberate, movement, Oliver flipped over the hand that was still beneath hers so that their palms were flush, and then purposefully wove his fingers between hers.
Felicity's eyes darted from his face to their hands and back up to his face, and her lips formed a silent oh. The same way they had every time he told her that he loved her. Except this time she squeezed his fingers softly, and stepped towards him.
In a flash Diggle's words of advice came back to him, and so he blinked, and took the moment that life had offered him.
"Felicity?" he murmured. His heart was pounding just like it had when he'd asked her out so many moons ago.
And just like that day she raised her eyebrows and smiled at him; a little encouraging, a little thrown off by his almost bashful tone,
"Hmm?"
"D'youwannadance...with me?"
Felicity smiled at him widely, her eyes crinkling, and his heart leapt for joy. She was going to say yes!
Or she was, until Ray "Mutombo" Palmer turned down the music across the room and cleared his throat.
"So, just wanted to let everyone know that the suit works."
The team, who Oliver had plumb forgotten about for five minutes, erupted in cheers.
Ray's eyes flicked over to Oliver's corner of the room and for the first time since they'd met Oliver saw a true emotion from the man: pain.
Ray looked down and away, "So I guess it's back to business," he said softly.
When he looked up he'd recovered the wide grin which Oliver knew, for sure now, was a mask. But he couldn't figure out why until Felicity untangled their fingers and stepped away.
He missed her warmth.
As they all trudged back into the testing area Oliver caught Diggle humming a few bars of the song that had tortured Oliver in his adolescence.
Staring at the exoskeleton still formed in the pose which he and Felicity just shared, he couldn't help but admit that yes, for once, he'd actually wanted to be a dancing queen...
Facing off against Diggle once more, Oliver mock punched.
...But only if Felicity joined him.