Where There's a Wedding, There's a Crisis.
A Diggle wedding got me feeling some type of way.
Oliver watched Felicity as she picked at the cake in front of her. She sat on the other side of Digg and Lyla, elbow resting on the cloth as she played with her fork. Her long blonde hair tumbled in waves over her bare skin, shining in the low lights and accenting the gold of her dress. Music hummed around them and the world fell away was Oliver watched the enchanting woman he loved pout over her plate.
"Just ask her to dance already," Digg sighed at his side, a quiet murmur, "It really can’t make things worse, can it?"
Oliver considered his words a moment, before gathering the courage to walk around the front of the tall wedding party table and looking up at her.
"Dance?" he asked before she could steer her gaze away or his confidence could slip, "Please."
Her eyes bounced to his at the plea, softening. She sighed, nodding and pushing out from her chair as he watched her hopefully. She answered Oliver’s outstretched arm with her own, cracking a smile as he lead her onto the dance floor.
She looped her arms around his neck as he artfully lead her around the dance floor, his hands guiding her. She held her distance as violins danced in her ears, but as Oliver twirled her with shocking exuberance, her answering laughter was free and easy. As he pulled her back, she pushed away her nerves, resting her head on his chest.
Felicity could hear Oliver’s breathing under her—slow and even. She focused on it with her eyes closed, shutting out the laughing and talking of the party guests as her arms around his shoulders tightened in an embrace.
She sighed into him, “If it could just be like this all the time…”
"I know," he answered quickly—their words were whispers maintaining the spell that had fallen over them. Oliver’s hands slipped from her sides to the small of her back, inching her closer. They were flush against one another, and although a spark of longing flared in Felicity she was surprised at the overwhelming sense of comfort she felt as her every nerve met his.
It was quiet as they spun in slow circles, the music dancing over them. It didn’t matter that the entire wedding party was probably staring at them in confusion or that Felicity was certain she had seen Roy and Digg smirking at them multiple times. It didn’t matter that when the song ended, reality would come crashing into them—or that memories of this dance might do more harm than good. In Oliver’s arms, none of it mattered. Felicity felt safe. She felt loved. She felt home.
"Oliver?" his name came slow from her lips, her eyes seeking his in salvation. His eyebrows rose curiously at the hope etched in her voice, but before he could respond the doors behind them flew open with a bang that startled the entire room, causing even Oliver’s head to snap away from hers, meeting the source.
A waitress panted in exhaustion, horror etched on her pale face as the entire room held their breath.
"Somebody," she begged, coughing, "help,” she choked out before collapsing in the entry way with a thud, a long arrow poking out of her back as blood pooled in the white of her shirt.
Reality had come—and it hadn’t even waited for the end of the song.