what kind of pavlovian response is that miles

Chris Evans Fic: Hiking and Hypocrisy (Chapter 7)

All you remembered was that plummeting feeling you sometimes get when you dream that you’re falling out of bed, or off a cliff, and you force yourself awake a millisecond before hitting the ground. Snapping your eyes open felt like impact when you saw Chris’ concerned gaze in the moonlight filtering in through the glass roof.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ He asked immediately, but you were too confused and disorientated to respond.

You had a myriad of emotions tumbling through you, rolling around in waves, clashing and colliding together. You blinked, trying to swim to the surface, but failing, and everything was instinct. Instead of speaking, you simply leaned forward, pressing your lips to Chris’. You heard a noise of surprise from him but it didn’t stop him from kissing you back and soon you were lost in the sensation. He was gentle, tender, raising one hand to softly cup your cheek, perhaps sensing your delicate emotional state, but it wasn’t what you associated with this place, this room, this bed. Everything had always been a mile a minute, demanding, forceful and you had mistaken it all for wanton passion, had revelled in it even: ‘He just can’t keep his hands off me, can’t resist me,’ was what you had told yourself time after time.

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Hello!  Here’s a little something I wrote - hope you like.  It’s very fluffy.  Happy weekend all!

Oliver busily looks over the papers in front of him, barely glancing up at the sound of his office door opening.  

“You can just put those papers in that pile, Max.” he says without looking, waving at a large stack of files piled on the edge of his desk.

“Not Max.”

No, it is definitely not Max.  Because the voice is female and unforgettable.  Because the sound of her voice, always brings with it tiny bubbles of desire and happiness. He can feel his shoulders relaxing as he looks up and sees her; Felicity.  She stands there in front of him, her hair down and loosely curled, wearing a short pretty white dress, sandals, her lips curved in a smile.  He can feel his face reacting in kind, his shoulders relaxing, a smile beaming out of him, a pavlovian response when it comes to her.

“Hi.” Even his voice changes around her, softening, happier.  

She smiles a little wider, “Hi.”  

The moment hangs there as they simply take each other in, giddy to simply be in each other’s presence. But, finally, eventually, Oliver’s brain starts working again and he wonders what brings her here to his office. Several scenarios flash through his mind, their OTHER job, their friends, but he quickly rejects those because she would have stridden in talking a mile a minute all business if the city was in danger.  Did they have plans?  He wonders.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, unless…”  He stumbles over the words a little, “did I forget…did we have lunch plans?”  He can’t help the feeling of hopefulness that maybe it was true. Maybe they had made plans and the unthinkable had happened that he had forgotten.

She shakes her head gently, “No.  We didn’t have plans.  But…” Felicity draws out the syllables on the last word, trailing off hopefully, her eyebrows rising slightly. She sways ever so lightly as she waits.

Oliver surveys his desk. The mounds of paperwork, the looming city council meeting, the millions of things he’s juggling as mayor, but how can he resist her.  He knows the minute he looked up and saw her that he’d table everything for a few minutes of time alone.

“Italian?”  He asks.  And Felicity smiles wide and shakes her head.

“No.  C’mon.”

She holds out her hand to him as he rounds the desk and he grabs it in his own.  Her hand is easily dwarfed in his, and the moment he touches her a deep feeling of satisfaction comes over him.  It always feels right.

She pulls him through the halls of the building,

Felicity starts talking as they walk, “I know a few months ago on your birthday, we talked about taking things slow.  And we have been, taking things really slowly.  And it’s been good, it’s been really…”

“Great.”  He finishes her sentence.

“Yeah.  And the other night when you proposed, I haven’t been so happy in a long time.”

Oliver nods.

They come to the end of the hallway and enter the elevator.  Felicity pushes the button for the Lobby.

“What are we waiting for?”

“What do you mean?” He says turning to look at her as the elevator doors close.

“The first time we got engaged, I thought that I wanted to have the big dream wedding, the white dress, all our friends and family, the whole thing…”

Oliver nods at her. To be honest, that’s also how he had imagined it would be, a Queen family tradition, why throw a small party when you can throw an outrageously expensive large one.

They exit the elevator and walk across the crowded lobby to the outside.  The day is sunny and warm and they walk easily together hand in hand. They stop at the corner and wait for the all clear to cross the street.

The light changes and they start forward into the crosswalk, throngs of people around them.  

Felicity continues, “And then this morning after looking at the 50th text message from my mother about wedding dresses, it hit me.  I don’t care about any of that.  I don’t care about the dress or the flowers or the wedding cake.  I just want to be married to you.  I just want our life together to start and I want it to start right now; today, as soon as possible.”

“That’s what I want too.”

Felicity steers them into the courts building.

Oliver tugs on her hand a little, asking curiously, “Where are you taking me?”

Felicity simply smiles mysteriously and replies, “You’ll see.”

Finally, she stops in front of a door and he looks at the words etched into the frosted glass, ‘City Clerk’s Office.”

He looks back at her quizzically, “Last I checked they don’t serve food here.”

You’re right, they don’t. But they do perform civil ceremonies.”

Oliver is gobsmacked. Civil Ceremonies.  He’s shocked but not unpleasantly, a smile plays across his mouth.

Felicity looks up at him, “Oliver will you marry me, right here, right now.”

“But…don’t you want your mom here, our friends…it’ll be just us” He asks.

“Not exactly, I managed to find a couple of witnesses.”

As if out of nowhere, Diggle and Thea appear beaming from ear to ear.  Thea is holding a small posy of flowers, which she hands over to Felicity.

“Did he say yes?” Thea asks.

The three of them look at Oliver expectantly.  He shakes his head, “How did you—“then looking at Felicity, “What if I had said no?”

Diggle gives Oliver a look, “you’re not known for making good decisions, Oliver, but even you aren’t that stupid.”

“Are you saying no?” Felicity asks gently, placing a hand on his.  Her eyes gently probing, making sure he knows it’s okay if that is the answer.

“Yes.”  Oliver shakes his head, “I mean no.”  Felicity looks at him in confusion as he babbles.  He takes a deep breath, “I mean, yes I want to marry you, right here right now.”

Diggle claps Oliver on the back in approval as Thea opens the office door.