A/N: Are you ready? ARE YOU?!?!
The muse is out of control right now. Here’s the first fic of the night. A post 3x23 spec. I’m on the crazy train with this one. Though with every new spoiler that comes out maybe it’s not so crazy.
ENJOY!! Let me know what you think!
Read at ff.net or Ao3
Felicity made her way down the cracked concrete stairs, barely looking at where she was going, her eyes focused on the band of darkened metal that now sat on her left hand.
It was Oliver’s hand at her elbow that kept her safely on track and when they made it to the bottom she finally lifted her head to look at him with a wide smile.
“What?” he asked, the smile mirrored back at her, so broad she thought his cheeks must ache.
“I just…I saw these you know,” grasping his hand where a matching band was wrapped snugly around his fourth finger.
“When you asked for what I had saved from the trunk…I hoped but…I never imagined.” she shook her head, still a little shell shocked at everything that had happened in the past few days.
“So you looked?” he sounded a little apprehensive, which after what they’d just done, what they’d been through seemed almost ridiculous.
She looked up at him through her lashes, head cocked to the side, “Of course I looked, Oliver.”
After he’d been arrested, after Roy’s plan had been worked out she knew she had to take what she could from the foundry. She’d backed up their files while Digg had wiped the place of everyone’s prints. The last thing she’d done was open his trunk, the one he’d brought back from Lian Yu. She removed the notebook, the vodka, and a small black pouch.
It hadn’t been until later that night that she’d pulled the thin drawstring. Two rings had tipped into her palm. One so large the smaller one fit inside it. The metal wasn’t silver, or gold. It was heavier, a steel alloy, with a hue that was so familiar her heart beat triple time in her chest.
She didn’t allow herself to look at them any closer. With a shaking hand she returned them to the bag, tucking it into her pocket. But she hadn’t been able to part from them. They took up permanent residence with her and when they took Thea back to Nanda Parbat the pouch ended up in her bag.
It was on the return trip, after it was all over that he’d asked for what she’d saved from the trunk. Silently she’d handed him the bag. He didn’t even open it. Just put it inside his jacket pocket.
Five minutes later he asked her to marry him.
They went straight from the airport to the courthouse.
The metal was warm when he slipped it onto her finger.
Jolted back into the present she watched his thumb rub over the ring, spinning it slightly. “When did you make them?” she asked, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear as she squinted up at him. The late afternoon sun was bright.
“Before I left for Nanda Parbat. The first time,” he added unnecessarily.
“Did you ever think we’d use them?”
“No.” he answered immediately, “I never…”
“You never thought you’d get your happy story.” she finished for him, hand coming up to cup his cheek.
The breath caught in his throat and all he could do was shake his head.
She shifted closer, until one of her feet slipped between his. Her flats left her at a distinct height disadvantage, but she didn’t care. This close to him, pressed against his chest as she stared up at him she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be.
“I’m your wife,” the words came out a little breathless and a lot amazed.
The look of pure, unadulterated joy that erupted across his face was worth it.
His hands captured her face, head dipping until his lips whispered against hers, “Yes, you are.”
“I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
He answered by kissing her within an inch of her life, mouth working over hers until she could only cling to his shirt, knowing he’d hold her up.
When he pulled back he lifted her hand, pressing his lips to her ring, “Ready to get out of here?”
She looked at him with a quirked eyebrow, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” he answered enigmatically, only making her curiosity rise.
He took his hand in hers, leading her down the sidewalk to a silver, convertible sports car that sat empty at the curb.
“No actual horses, but I hope it’ll do as a chariot.” he said with a wolfish grin and a nod to the rearing horse emblem on the back of the Porsche that made a streak of heat go straight to her core.
“Mine? Ours?” he asked as he opened the door, nodding for her to slide onto the supple leather seat, “Yes. I didn’t lose everything.”
When he slid into the drivers seat the sight made her stomach flip, and when the dark sunglasses made their way onto his face she licked her lips, swallowing hard.
“And you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“No, Mrs. Queen, I’m not.”
The pure, joyous smile she saw directed at her was enough to keep her curiosity at bay.