[ How did they even get to this question. But she wants to answer. And yet for some reason, a little voice in the back of her head is telling her not to.
Felicity decides to ignore it. ]
No. I'm not ... ready for anything like that.
[ Damn it Oliver. She still loves you too much to move on. ]
[She can't possibly be suggesting what he thinks she's suggesting. Right? Except she knows he's not busy. If he was busy, she'd be busy. She's always the comforting - usually - voice in his ear when he's busy.]
I'm not busy.
[He has to refrain from adding a 'why' in there. Or an 'of course I'm not'. But it's hard.]
[Well, of course she's not suggesting that. He's not sure whether she's relieved or disappointed. He's probably going a little with both. Not that he's saying that.]
[He nearly crushed his phone from the effort it took to stop himself from adding that he still loved her anyway. She had to remind him of happier times.]
[ It hurts, how much Felicity knows they shouldn't get back together and despite that, how much she wants to see him anyways.
By the time she gets there, a bag full of Chinese food in tow, she's already wondering if maybe she'd made a bad decision. She'd picked the Arrowcave because of its distinct lack of bedrooms, or beautiful views, or anything that could be considered romantic. But just by inviting Oliver, maybe she was torturing them both.
She has half a mind to press "L" and go back up the elevator when the doors pulled open and she sees him, and her lips curl into a smile. This might be a terrible idea, but she still lights up when she sees him. And it's too late to turn back now. ]
I brought Chinese. [ She lifts the bag up a little, to indicate that's what's inside, before coming over to join him and set the food down on the cleared-off table. ]
This wasn't a start. Oliver kept having to repeat that to himself because otherwise, he'd hope and he didn't think he had it in him to hope. He loved her too much and it had taken everything not to push things and to just let her have her space after she'd broken up with him.
And then he'd made that stupid joke not even meant for her and maybe he was a little tipsy. But somehow that worked out. Because here she was. He just couldn't hope that this was anything other than a friendly dinner. But still he found himself returning her smile. Some days it seemed like she was the only person he smiled for. At least an honest one.
"Drink?" he suggested, lifting up the decanter and an extra glass. Maybe it would be a bad idea, but he'd already had one or two.
It feels like just yesterday that she'd left the ring on his table, even though by now, that was weeks ago. But every time she sees a glimpse of Oliver, there's still a twisty, painful feeling in her chest. And every time Felicity sees the way his eyes look at her, a huge part of her wants to try being them again.
But she'd ended it — she has to keep reminding herself — because deep down, Felicity doesn't believe that there can be an Oliver who doesn't keep secrets from her. And until he shows her otherwise, she can't risk letting him back in. They just- They just have to have dinner, as friends.
"Please," she says, smiling again, because yes a drink would be extremely welcome right now.
As he pours, Felicity tears open the staple that's keeping the top of the bag closed and pulls out two paper plates, followed by three containers. One was for the sweet and spicy sauce, another for the warm pancakes, and the final one was the Moo Shu Pork itself. His favorite.
"Sooo..." She's almost done giving them each a napkin and putting some plastic spoons and forks out on the table. "...I'm just curious. Who did you actually mean to send that text to?"
"John," Oliver answered and hoped that would be the end of it. It was a long and complicated story and he didn't fancy telling it, especially now that she was actually here and had agreed to both food and a drink. He poured her a couple of fingers and topped off his own before turning to hand her the drink. Maybe it would be better to move onto another topic before she could ask what the story behind the comment was. He'd been talking about her, but that was the last thing he wanted to say.
He glanced down at the array she was laying out and actually smiled. She'd remembered what he liked. Granted, it was one of their more go to foods for curling up on the couch and... and he really didn't need to be thinking of their extended vacation right now. That was a very slippery slope.
Thinking about Ivy Town would remind him of how some of those nights had inevitably ended and maybe Felicity was here, but that was definitely not why she'd come. Probably not why she'd come.
"I'm glad you brought the plates. I can't imagine trying to eat those without them." And it wasn't like they had a full kitchen down here and the small kitchen upstairs had long since been cleaned out.
John was a good answer. A safe answer. Because Felicity knows that no matter what Oliver had meant to communicate in that text, John Diggle wasn’t someone he’d text to make fun of her, or complain about what a terrible person she was.
But even if he did do any of those things though, she couldn’t really blame him. Still, when she first got his misfire, it had hurt a little. It made her feel like he was moving on — to the point where he could make jokes about her — and Felicity knows that it’s devastatingly unfair and she had no right to feel that way, especially not when she was the one who broke up with him. But she still loves him. That part wasn’t going to change anytime soon. She still loves him and she’s not ready to see him move on.
Felicity’s fingers wrap around her glass and she takes a little sip before she pulls back her chair and sits. When he mentions trying to eat the food without plates, she laughs, leaving an amused smile on her face.
“Kind of reminds me … “ She glances up at him, realizing now that she shouldn’t just say the first thing that comes to mind, but she’s already started her sentence. “… of when we first moved to Ivy Town, and we tried to drink soup off of plates.”
Her mouth curls up into an empathetic pout. “It was a dark time for kitchenware.” They’d just moved in and the moving truck had been delayed. In terms of supplies, all they had that night was a pot, some cans of soup and a few plates. In retrospect, they probably should have just drank the soup straight out of the pot.
She looks at him, like somehow all in one glance she could communicate that she really does miss it. All of it. Him. Sitting next to him instead of across the table from him like she was doing now. It’s not something she means to say, but she can’t help but feel it.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-08-22 04:28 pm (UTC)That's what I'm saying.
[And if he wanted it to be you... Well, that's something he won't say.]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-25 04:27 am (UTC)I can handle it.
[ Because if she wanted it to be her, that's also something she wasn't going to say. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-25 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-08-26 12:03 am (UTC)Felicity decides to ignore it. ]
No. I'm not ... ready for anything like that.
[ Damn it Oliver. She still loves you too much to move on. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-27 03:31 am (UTC)[Because what can he say? Good, he doesn't want you to move on? Neither am I, I love you, come back to me? Both sound ridiculous.]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-27 04:04 am (UTC)She stares at the message she types back for a long time before pushing send. ]
Are you busy?
[ A second text comes shortly after. ]
Tonight
no subject
Date: 2016-08-27 04:23 am (UTC)I'm not busy.
[He has to refrain from adding a 'why' in there. Or an 'of course I'm not'. But it's hard.]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-27 04:47 am (UTC)Would you want to eat dinner together?
no subject
Date: 2016-08-28 02:23 am (UTC)I'd love to.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-28 02:37 am (UTC)I'll bring something to the ... office in 30 minutes.
[ Because Felicity knows better than to say Arrowcave in SMS. Anyone could hack that business. ]
And don't worry. It's take out. I'm not cooking.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-29 12:02 am (UTC)[He nearly crushed his phone from the effort it took to stop himself from adding that he still loved her anyway. She had to remind him of happier times.]
I'll see you soon.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-29 02:25 am (UTC)By the time she gets there, a bag full of Chinese food in tow, she's already wondering if maybe she'd made a bad decision. She'd picked the Arrowcave because of its distinct lack of bedrooms, or beautiful views, or anything that could be considered romantic. But just by inviting Oliver, maybe she was torturing them both.
She has half a mind to press "L" and go back up the elevator when the doors pulled open and she sees him, and her lips curl into a smile. This might be a terrible idea, but she still lights up when she sees him. And it's too late to turn back now. ]
I brought Chinese. [ She lifts the bag up a little, to indicate that's what's inside, before coming over to join him and set the food down on the cleared-off table. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-08-29 10:17 pm (UTC)And then he'd made that stupid joke not even meant for her and maybe he was a little tipsy. But somehow that worked out. Because here she was. He just couldn't hope that this was anything other than a friendly dinner. But still he found himself returning her smile. Some days it seemed like she was the only person he smiled for. At least an honest one.
"Drink?" he suggested, lifting up the decanter and an extra glass. Maybe it would be a bad idea, but he'd already had one or two.
no subject
Date: 2016-08-30 12:45 am (UTC)But she'd ended it — she has to keep reminding herself — because deep down, Felicity doesn't believe that there can be an Oliver who doesn't keep secrets from her. And until he shows her otherwise, she can't risk letting him back in. They just- They just have to have dinner, as friends.
"Please," she says, smiling again, because yes a drink would be extremely welcome right now.
As he pours, Felicity tears open the staple that's keeping the top of the bag closed and pulls out two paper plates, followed by three containers. One was for the sweet and spicy sauce, another for the warm pancakes, and the final one was the Moo Shu Pork itself. His favorite.
"Sooo..." She's almost done giving them each a napkin and putting some plastic spoons and forks out on the table. "...I'm just curious. Who did you actually mean to send that text to?"
no subject
Date: 2016-09-01 03:12 am (UTC)He glanced down at the array she was laying out and actually smiled. She'd remembered what he liked. Granted, it was one of their more go to foods for curling up on the couch and... and he really didn't need to be thinking of their extended vacation right now. That was a very slippery slope.
Thinking about Ivy Town would remind him of how some of those nights had inevitably ended and maybe Felicity was here, but that was definitely not why she'd come. Probably not why she'd come.
"I'm glad you brought the plates. I can't imagine trying to eat those without them." And it wasn't like they had a full kitchen down here and the small kitchen upstairs had long since been cleaned out.
no subject
Date: 2016-09-20 03:24 am (UTC)But even if he did do any of those things though, she couldn’t really blame him. Still, when she first got his misfire, it had hurt a little. It made her feel like he was moving on — to the point where he could make jokes about her — and Felicity knows that it’s devastatingly unfair and she had no right to feel that way, especially not when she was the one who broke up with him. But she still loves him. That part wasn’t going to change anytime soon. She still loves him and she’s not ready to see him move on.
Felicity’s fingers wrap around her glass and she takes a little sip before she pulls back her chair and sits. When he mentions trying to eat the food without plates, she laughs, leaving an amused smile on her face.
“Kind of reminds me … “ She glances up at him, realizing now that she shouldn’t just say the first thing that comes to mind, but she’s already started her sentence. “… of when we first moved to Ivy Town, and we tried to drink soup off of plates.”
Her mouth curls up into an empathetic pout. “It was a dark time for kitchenware.” They’d just moved in and the moving truck had been delayed. In terms of supplies, all they had that night was a pot, some cans of soup and a few plates. In retrospect, they probably should have just drank the soup straight out of the pot.
She looks at him, like somehow all in one glance she could communicate that she really does miss it. All of it. Him. Sitting next to him instead of across the table from him like she was doing now. It’s not something she means to say, but she can’t help but feel it.