Poke

She was poking him. Like literally poking him in the chest. Multiple times. In his arrow suit. And it was turning him ON.
To be perfectly honest, anything Felicity did was enough to get his motor running but this? Oh god, this was a whole new level.
She was excited, her face flushed with the anticipation and power rush of getting to run a multi billion dollar company, the nervous excitement in the air almost palpable in its fervor. A pang of regret hit him for keeping her away from this, not just by whisking her away on a escapist, hopeful holiday, no that's not when things started going wrong for her, it started when she met him...when he made her a glorified secretary, and then lost his company...No. He had to stop. This wasn't who he wanted to be anymore. The guilt ridden sad shell of a man that he was. She had cured him of that. She had been slowly healing him, right since the day they met. His sunshine. She was everything and if she didn't hold it against him, who was he to guilt trip himself?
He knew she was nervous. She'd been babbling more than usual that day, and had requested a rather large amount of mint chip for a woman her size. So, ever the dutiful boyfriend, he had arranged for the ice cream, tried to keep up with her babbling, and had decided to do 2 things that would make her smile. First, he bought her a fern. The last one had come to symbolise hope and love to him and had reminded him of her in the darkest of times. Second, he packed her lunch. She loved it when he cooked for her, and he found peace in it. Win-win.
Speaking of win-win situations, he now found himself being rewarded for his efforts through pokes. Not the facebook kind, but the kind where his girlfriend was jabbing him while telling him vociferously that she was the boss and that she gets to be bossy and that nobody could stop her or something akin to that. He wasn't a bad boyfriend or anything but it was really hard (pun intended) to form conscious thought and listen when you were that turned on and in leather pants. Sweet mother of leather why?! Why was his little boss woman doing this? And more importantly, why was it turning him on?
He let out a fierce, okay, it may have been pleading growl, which stopped her mid-rant.
"Oliver? Wait! Did I hurt you? Oh my god were you already hurt? Am I just that badass now? Damn, if I had known that's all it took to take my big bad vigilante teddy bear down I would've...." she stopped, her eyes widening as her eyes wandered down to the reason for his discomfort. "Oh! That makes so much more sense...it's like that time when I thought I'd killed a man with my tablet but it turns out he was already....or you know, not like that time at all, it's just the scenario in which my badassery was to be established...you know what this is probably not something you want to talk about right now...so um...yeah." She licked her lip while probably chastising herself for babbling and talking in sentence fragments.
He wondered everyday who he had pleased in a previous life to have her in his life. Adorable, sexy and his. Only his.
"Felicity" he groaned.
"You know I want to Oliver... I mean seriously the whole leather, vigilante sweat thing really does wonders for me and seeing the teddy bear version of you in it makes things even sexier...but no. I refuse to be late for my first day back and you have to meet your moms old friends remember? I guess we're both going to have to be patient. Though is it possible to spontaneously combust because of how turned on I am? Then that might happen....I'm just saying...my first day is already so difficult." she huffed out with her trademark adorable pout.
"Firstly, please stop calling me your teddy bear, just please no. And Secondly, I agree with the premise of your argument, Ms. Smoak but I can't let you go just yet." he smirked.
"Oliver..."
"I have a condition"
"Name it"
He was suddenly nervous. He didn't know how she'd react to his condition or if she would be freaked out by it or something.
"Don't zone out on me babe. Talk to me Oliver."
And that was that. The voice that centered him. The calm in the storm.
"Felicity...how would you feel if I told you I like the bossy you?"
"Thank you?"
"No...I just...maybe you'd like bringing that version of you home? Not if you don't want to of course I mean I would never..." he trailed off
"Let's get one thing straight. I'm the only one who's allowed to talk in sentence fragments. And also, I have a condition of my own Mr. Queen." she said sharply but with the smile evident in her voice.
"Yeah? What would that be?" he licked his lips nervously.
"You will be calling me Ms. Smoak tonight." she said giving him a kiss that was both a goodbye as well as a sensual promise.