title: who else would it be but you and me (forever and eternity)
category: arrow
genre: romance/drama
ship: felicity/oliver
rating: mature
prompt: gif (source)
warning(s): strong language, sexual content
word count: 5,984
summary: (au) Oliver saves Felicity from the terrifying monkey bars when he's just seven years old and spends the rest of their friendship trying to be the hero she deserves.

who else would it be but you and me (forever and eternity)

They met on a playground. She was six and he was seven. Felicity had climbed up to the monkey bars and was half-way across before she remembered she was afraid of heights. She was crying when Oliver asked her why and, through her sniffling, she managed to tell him that she was scared she'd fall and hurt herself. He let her put her feet on his shoulders and, together, they made it to the end of the monkey bars, where she climbed down. Swiping at the tears on her face, she kissed his cheek and told him he was her hero. Later, he would decide that was the moment he fell in love with her. But, being a kid, all he knew was that Felicity was pretty and her lips were soft and he liked that warm, fuzzy feeling he got in his chest when she smiled up at him. They were best friends from that moment forward, and Oliver found himself searching for ways to be her hero and get another kiss.

Felicity was a constant in his life, with a front row seat to heroics being replaced with mischief. She was a bright spot, the innocence he'd long traded in for fun and excitement and the next thrill money could buy. She was late nights studying and early morning coffee dates. She was pencils in her hair and pen ink on her chin and paper cuts he kissed to make her smile. She was who he went to when the high wore off and he wanted to remember what reality felt like. Who he could crawl into bed beside and cuddle with, letting his head rest on her tummy while she read a book or watched TV. Where Tommy was loud and brash and eager to coax him into the next mistake, Felicity was the tapping foot that reminded him there were things he had to do, the cleared throat and raised eyebrow that screamed (silently) about responsibility. Unlike with his mother, it didn't bother him so much when Felicity did it, and maybe that was because she never looked disappointed in him when he decided to go with Tommy instead of doing his homework. She would sigh and shake her head, but she would always be there.

After ten years, he sometimes wondered if she ever got tired of it, of him. If one day she wouldn't leave her bedroom window open for him to climb through via the fire escape ("You know, if my mom ever finds out you're sneaking in through there, I'm probably going to have to get that whole 'safe sex talk again.' Not that we're having sex, or ever will, just that my mom's first thought is going to be 'boy plus sneaking in plus bedroom equals sex and possible teenage pregnancy.' So, maybe we could try using the front door more often? Like normal, average people do. No? Fine. But if she ever asks how you keep getting in here, I'm laying all the blame at your feet."), or maybe she wouldn't answer his phone calls, or meet him for their Sunday morning weekend debrief ("You know these are just an excuse for me to check in with you, right? I mean, I can tell you all about how me, Jen and Kelsey had a girl's night with spa treatments and a serious overload of junk food all I want, but this is mostly just me checking in to see if you didn't accidently set a car on fire. I say 'accidentally' because I have faith in you, by the way…").

She had to get tired of it. Tired of how different they were. Of how differently he looked at things and approached the world. They were different. They always had been. But he liked that about her. He liked that school came first with her, that she could outsmart him on his best day and her worst, that she dreamed about going to MIT with stars in her eyes, that she was kind, rational, and hopeful where he could be selfish, irrational and cynical. She didn't see the world with rose-tinted glasses, but she didn't focus on the terrible either. She was just a sixteen year old girl who liked to think the seventeen year old boy she met on a playground would amount to something more.

Sometimes, when he and Laurel were dating (it was hit and miss a lot), and he'd screwed up, again, she would ask him, "Are you ever going to grow up?"

And he would laugh and say, "I hope not."

She never liked that, but he couldn't find it in himself to care too much.

And then Felicity asked him one afternoon, while he was laying in her bed, flipping through a book he was supposed to read for English class, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

He could've played it off, could've joked about a beach somewhere with a beautiful, exotic woman on either arm. Instead, he said, "Five years…? I'll be, what, twenty-two? Hmm… Probably a college drop-out with my dad breathing down my neck about responsibility." He grinned at her, but there was little humor in it. "Why? Where do you see me, Smoak?"

She dropped her pen down on her desk and pushed her chair back to walk over and join him, sitting on the edge of her bed. She had her hair in a braid that hung down her shoulder. He reached over and grabbed the end, turning it up so the tail tickled her nose. She smiled, laughing under her breath and turned her face away. He grinned, watching her, that same warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest as always

Turning, Felicity leaned back, dropping her head until it landed on his stomach.

He let out an 'oof' at the pressure, but she just grinned at him. Brushing his fingers through her bangs, he tapped the pads of his fingers over her forehead.

She looked at him, her brow furrowing. "You could come with me, you know? To MIT. If your dad's bent on an Ivy, you can go to Harvard. If not, there's Cambridge College. I can help you. We can study together like we do now, just a little more structured. Both are like a five minute walk from MIT. We could even get an apartment together! Well," Her nose wrinkled, "as long as we had some kind of warning system in place for the many college girls you're going to end up bringing home…"

He watched her as she talked, her hands moving around animatedly as she came up with ideas for lining up their class schedules and cooking meals together and what of her furniture she'd want to take with her. He half-smiled as she went on and on, until finally, as she was running out of steam, he wondered, "When are you gonna give up on me?"

Felicity blinked, looking over at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"This. Hoping I'm going to get it together and go to college and make something of myself… You sent your college applications out as soon as you got them. I think I have a drawer of them at home I haven't even looked at…" He shook his head. "I'm not gonna be the guy who suddenly buckles down and walks out of Harvard with honors…" He shrugged. "I'm gonna be the guy on TMZ for pissing on a cop car or something."

Felicity frown then. "You're wrong."

He snorted.

"And the answer is never." She turned her head up and stared at the ceiling. "You're my best friend."

He stared at her profile, at the resolve there, and swallowed tightly. "Yeah."

The thing was, she was right. She'd never give up on him. She'd be there at 4am to bail him out of jail or to pick him up outside of whatever club he'd managed to sneak into, scraping him off the pavement and stuffing him in her beat-up little car. And when he realized he might not graduate if he didn't get his grades up, she was there to give him that extra push, to study with him and test him and put her foot down when he tried to beg off homework for another few days. And eventually, he started to figure it out. Felicity wouldn't give up on him. But she should.

He tried pushing her away once. They were two months shy of graduation and a month off from his eighteenth birthday. He didn't answer her calls for three days straight, none of her texts or emails either. That wasn't like him, not with her. Felicity was on his priority list, meaning she got his attention as soon as he realized she wanted it. But they were almost done high school and she'd be packing up and leaving him behind and he was scared. He was really fucking scared. Because his whole life felt like one big lead up to, well, nothing. Nothing he wanted, nothing he had, nothing hopeful or exciting or inspiring. He would go to college with Tommy in the fall, join a frat, fail out, and try again the next year somewhere else. The future was looking grim and he wasn't even an adult yet.

Three days.

She found him at the park they met in, sitting on a bench overlooking an empty set of monkey bars.

"Ignoring me really only makes me more persistent," she sighed, taking a seat beside him.

He almost didn't answer. Even thought about getting up and walking away.

But then her hand was on his, squeezing. "What's up?" she asked softly.

Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them back quick and painted on a crooked smile. Tipping his head back, he stared at the sky and asked her, "You remember when we used to point out things in the clouds?" He could see her nod from his peripheral. "I always cheated. I said I saw things that weren't there. I… I never really saw anything but clouds. But you used to see so many things, animals and people, and I couldn't figure out if you were special or I wasn't looking hard enough. And now I think it's both… You've always been special, you always will be, and I'll always be trying, but never hard enough, so I'll scrape by while you're skyrocketing… And it's gonna take a while, but eventually I'm gonna bring you down with me, and you'll let me, 'cause that's what you do. That's what we do."

"Oliver…" she murmured.

He gritted his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "It wasn't easy, y'know? Not talking to you. Not seeing you… It was hard. It was really hard. And if three days was hard, I don't know what four years is going to be like, but… Maybe that's good. Maybe you'll go out there and you'll find better people to hang out with, people that won't hold you back. People who are just as smart and motivated and amazing as you are."

"Maybe I will."

He turned to look at her, his heart thudding in his chest.

"Maybe I'll meet a lot of people, but none of them are ever going to be you." She smiled at him gently. "No one is ever going to save me from the monkey bars, Oliver. No one will stay late after school to help carry my books home because I always get too many from the library. No one will make sure he brings an extra sandwich from home because he knows I won't eat anything in the cafeteria, just in case there's peanuts. No one will make me lemon tea and paint my toe nails for me while we watch cheesy rom-coms when I'm sick. Or cheer at my mathletes competitions, wearing a custom made 'Smoak 'Em' sweatshirt to put everyone else to shame." She grinned brightly. "You always look at the things you've done wrong and you think there are so many, but I don't measure our friendship in how many mistakes you've made. You're my best friend because you've funny and caring and because we know each other better than anybody else could. Because I love spending time with you and I love how hard you try and I love you, Oliver. So stop, just stop, worrying that one day I won't be here, because I promise I always will be."

I love you, Oliver.

It was funny, when he thought about it, how much those words affected him. This wasn't the first time she'd said that to him, it wasn't the first time anybody had told him they loved him, by far, but it was always a little different coming from her. Maybe because one day he hoped that when she said 'love' she meant 'in love,' though he usually tried really hard not to take that hope apart too much. Because being in love with his best friend was hard, and he usually tried to pretend he wasn't.

She stood from the bench then, her brows hiked high as she looked back at him. "Come on… You owe me a coffee date."

He chuckled under his breath and stood with her, but they paused for a moment when a high-pitched laugh echoed across the field. When they looked ahead, they spotted a little girl crossing the monkey bars excitedly, and a little boy hurrying over to watch her. Oliver didn't know if they were friends or siblings or who those kids were, but nostalgia swam in his heart and threatened to choke him.

He felt Felicity's pinkie slip between his fingers and curl around his own, holding just tight enough to let him know she was there, she'd always be there, one of those silent promises of hers that he cherished more than he'd ever say.

They walked off to the coffee shop like that, pinkies entwined, hands hanging close together.

Over hot coffee and berry danishes, she told him what he missed in the last three days, and he watched every expression cross her face, memorizing them, filing them away for later.

When they left the shop and paused outside before parting ways, he ducked down to kiss her cheek, whispering 'I love you, too' against the shell of her ear before he walked away with the scent of her hair still filling his nose and the pressure of her finger forever entwined around his.

He stopped ignoring her and things returned to normal, for a while.

They went back to their routine of talking every day, between classes and Tommy. He snuck into her bedroom to study for upcoming tests and to get her help with homework he put off for too long. But time was moving faster than he wanted it to and, soon enough, it was his birthday. He had a celebration at home that was all family, with a car he probably didn't deserve and his father's assurance that he just had to name an Ivy and his father would get him into it. He asked for a day to think about it, even though he knew Tommy was going to Brown and Laurel to Yale. While he wasn't dating Laurel (currently), she'd been hinting that they could always try again and that, maybe, it'd be different when they were on their own. He didn't think so, but old patterns were hard to break.

When the family birthday was over, he drove over to Tommy's, where a birthday bash of completely different proportions was already in full swing. His best friend greeted him in the driveway, his shirt open and untucked, a cigar in one hand and two beers in the other. Laughingly, Tommy hugged him, congratulating him on turning eighteen before he dragged Oliver inside, handed him one of the beers, and told him to have a good time. Oliver would be lying if he didn't say he expected this party to be amazing; it was his last birthday before responsibility rained down on him with punishing precision. And, for the most part, that's what he got at Tommy's. Much like every other party Tommy threw, it was just as extravagant and over the top as ever. There was nothing they couldn't do. But, it felt a little hollow.

It was just after midnight, when he snuck out, driving across town until he found himself jumping up to pull the ladder down on the fire escape. He climbed up and found a lamp still lighting up her bedroom. He had to knock a few knuckles on the window to get her attention before she opened it carefully and stepped back, waiting for him to climb in. He landed on the floor a little louder than he meant to. Felicity shushed him, but all he could do was muffle his giggling. He was a little tipsier than he'd thought and fully expected a grade-A Felicity-scolding for driving while under the influence. Instead, she helped him up from the floor, taking his hands and pulling until he was on his feet, and then moved over to her bed.

"What're you doing here so late? I thought you were at Tommy's."

He shrugged. "Party sucked."

She snorted. "I highly doubt that."

"Did." He flopped down on the bed beside her, sprawled out on his back, and reached out to rest his hand on the small of her back, only to find his fingers weren't content to sit still and instead began drawing shapes all over. "You weren't there."

"I have a history test tomorrow. Not all of us have the luxury of a Thursday night party."

He snorted. Because, luxury or not, just about everybody from their school was there. It wasn't rare for Felicity to come to a party, she'd been to many of them before, but she had priorities and she didn't put getting plastered before good grades, ever. Some part of him admired her for that, even if he never modeled the same behavior.

"Missed you," he muttered.

"You saw me this afternoon. I made you open your birthday present at school, remember?" She smiled at him over her shoulder. "I still think that sweater will bring out your eyes."

"Everything brings out my eyes." He smirked at her and forced himself to sit up. "You like my eyes?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

He pursed his lips in a pout and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Yeah, you do."

"Mm-mm," she argued.

"Liar." He sighed, turning his head so his cheek lay around her bare skin. "I like your eyes, and your smile, and your nose, and your lips, and your freckles, and your arms, and your hair, and your fingers, and your toes, and your knees—"

She laughed. "My knees, huh?"

"Mm-hmm…" He reached down and tapped her knees, which he noticed, suddenly, were bare, as she was wearing loose shorts. "You have nice knees… And awesome legs." He slowly dragged his fingers up her knee and across the top of her thigh.

He heard a tiny, breathless noise leave her and soon his fingers were drawing circles on the inside of her thigh, slowly getting larger and large, teasing her soft skin. He couldn't count how many times he'd tried to imagine what it would feel like to have her legs wrapped around him. To sink himself inside her and hear her saying his name, her nails, painted a different color in every fantasy, scoring down his back.

"Oliver," she said quietly.

"Hm?" he asked, his fingers sliding a little higher, dipping under the cover of her shorts, drawing spirals all over.

"You're drunk."

"Could be drunker," he said, rubbing his thumb over her leg. His mouth felt dry and he licked his lips just as he felt the edge of her panties. White? He wondered. Or maybe pink or blue or green. Blue, like the sweater she got him that brought out his eyes. He could keep them on her, just pull them aside a little, as he ate her out. Would they bring out his eyes then?

"Oliver, seriously, you're not thinking straight," she said, her hand sliding down, fingers circling his wrist to make him pause.

"Wanted to do this for years," he told her, sliding a finger down the edges of her underwear. He grinned when her legs parted involuntarily. "Just let me touch you… just once…"

When he looked up at her, she was biting her lip, her cheeks flushed, still hesitant about his sobriety.

That was cute, that she thought she was taking advantage of him right now. Her, taking advantage of him, when he was the one desperate to finger her. If anyone was taking advantage, it was probably him. That made him pause, though. "Are you okay with this?" he wondered, frowning now. "I can stop if you don't like it. I won't be mad."

She stared at him searchingly. "How much did you drink?"

"Enough to get buzzed." He shook his head. "I'm not doing this because I'm drunk. I wasn't lying when I said I've wanted to do this with you for a while…"

"You never said anything."

"I'll write you a memo next time. 'Attention Felicity, I want to finger you until you scream. Interested?'"

She frowned. "What about you?"

"I can get off to it later." He shrugged, his hand sliding lower to squeeze her thigh. "So? We can go to sleep instead, if you want. Either way, I'm getting a cuddle out of this."

She let out a heavy sigh, murmuring, "Please don't regret this tomorrow," before she reached down for his hand and slid it up her shorts.

He dubbed it the best birthday gift he'd ever gotten, hands down. Including the car sitting outside her apartment.

Sliding his fingers under the elastic of her underwear, he rubbed them up and down the slit of her pussy. She was warm and getting wet and so soft. She slid one of her legs over his to open herself more to his probing fingers and leaned back, her hands behind her on the mattress to catch her. She looked beautiful, still flushed, her hair falling out of the bun she'd had it up in, pencils keeping it in place. The tank top she was wearing wasn't doing much to hide the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra and he bit down on his lip as he rubbed his fingers around her clit and stared at her pebbled nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt. Her chest was moving a little quicker as she rocked her hips up, searching out more pressure.

He leaned over to kiss her shoulder as he slid his fingers down, down, down, and sunk one inside her, testing how wet she was before he moved a little deeper. Her breath hitched and he nipped at her skin, smoothing the tiny bite over with a kiss. She split her attention between watching his hand move beneath her shorts and watching him watch her. Her mouth fell open as he dipped one finger into her completely and her head fell back, showing off her neck. While his finger worked in and out of her, his thumb circled around her clit. He dragged his tongue over her shoulder and nosed the strap of her tank top out of the way so he could kiss up the slope. A few inches up, he took the strap into his teeth and brought it down instead, pulling it down her arm and watching the scooped neck fall lower, showing just the top of her breast.

Felicity surprised him when she lifted up a little and pulled her arm out of the tank top, peeling the fabric down just like he wanted. He swallowed thickly and glanced at her for permission, getting a nod, before he ducked down and licked around the rosy, pink nipple of her right breast, plucking at it with his teeth. She let out a whimper and he moved his finger a little deeper, a little faster, while he scraped his teeth over her breast.

Her hand buried in his hair, tugging on it even as she kept him close, arching up into his mouth.

Oliver was in heaven.

Years of fantasies were finally coming to fruition and it was even better than he'd imagined.

Felicity was getting close, he could feel it in how she kept fluttering around his fingers, the noises she was making getting a little louder, a little more desperate. He rubbed his thumb a little harder on her clit and alternated between tugging on her nipple with his teeth and sucking on it. She reached down between her legs to cover his hand as it moved against her, her fingers sliding around his wrist. Just before she came, she pulled on his hair, hard, and he raised his head. She leaned down, pressing her lips to his, muffling herself even as she cradled his lips between hers. He sighed, sucking on her bottom lip, kissing her as she continued to pant and twitch and come down from the jolts of pleasure still ricocheting through her. She was gorgeous, her flush flooding down to her chest, that blissed out look on her face one he never wanted to forget.

He kissed her chin before he leaned back a little.

Her eyes opened, staring at him, and he brought his hand up from between her legs, sinking the finger that'd been fucking her into his mouth for him to lick clean. She tasted just as good as he knew she would. She bit her lip, watching him, her eyes dilating.

He wasn't lying when he said he'd get off to it later. He'd be getting off to that face she made, to how she felt around his fingers, to the noises she made, for a good, long time.

But not tonight, not right now.

"Cuddle time?" he asked.

And she smiled, the corners of her lips turning up. "Yeah. In a sec." She nodded, moving to the end of her bed. She pushed up on shaky legs and quickly left her room to use the bathroom before she came back, locking her door behind her and climbing into bed beside him.

It wasn't the first time he'd stayed over, not by a long shot. But it was the first time after they'd shared something like that.

Felicity laid down beside him, tucking her blanket in around her like she always did, and reached up to turn out the lamp on the table beside her.

Oliver sidled up behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist, and rested his head down on the pillow.

"We're okay?" he wondered, rubbing his hand in circles over her tummy.

She covered his hand and nodded. "Always."

He pressed his face to the nape of her neck and fell asleep hoping that was true.

When he woke up, it was almost seven, meaning her alarm was going to go off any second and he had to get out before her mother woke up. They had school, and apparently a history test, so he climbed out of bed, quiet as could be, pausing only long enough to kiss her cheek before he was sneaking out her window and down the fire escape to his car. Going home was a must. He needed to shower and change and, hopefully, convince his parents he just stayed at Tommy's, no big deal. Raisa was the first person he saw when he walked in. She smiled at him, informing him that his dad had already left for work and his mother was eating breakfast. He climbed the stairs two a time, took a quick shower, and then hurried back downstairs to join his mother. When she asked how his night was, he wasn't lying when he told her it was 'the best night he'd ever had,' but he didn't mean Tommy's party.

He took his brand new car to school and made it in time for English. Felicity was in advanced classes all morning, so he didn't see her until break, seeking her out at her locker instead of going to his.

"Hey," he said, feeling a little nervous when she walked up.

"Hey," she answered, reaching for her lock. "You weren't there when I woke up."

He winced. "Your mom, I thought you'd want me out early, just in case…"

"It wouldn't be the first time she found you sleeping over," she reminded, putting her books away and grabbing out a granola bar.

"Yeah, but all those other times were, y'know, innocent…" He shifted his feet.

Her mouth twitched with amusement. "It's not like she'd know the difference."

Oliver hated it when he didn't feel as confident as usual and retaliated by tickling her, his fingers skimming down her side. She laughed, but slapped his hands away. "Careful, you wouldn't want the school to see you touching me. Who knows what they'll figure out," she teased.

He rolled his eyes, pulling her in front of him by her hips. He skated his hands up her sides and around to her back, giving her another tug so they were pressed together.

Felicity's eyes darted away. "Oliver…"

"What?" he asked, leaning down, his forehead falling to hers.

"What are we doing?" she murmured, looking up at him.

"What do you want us to be doing?" he countered.

She sighed, exasperated. "I'm asking you. Don't turn it around on me."

"You're who matters. I know what I want but I don't know what you want."

"Well, what do you want?"

His lips curled up at the corners as he stared at her. "I thought that was obvious."

"Not when things can get lost in translation. So is this a physical thing? A friends with benefits kind of deal? Or is this… a relationship? I don't… I don't know."

"It's whatever you want it to be."

She stamped her foot to remind him how frustrating he was being. "What do you want?"

He chuckled and ducked his head to kiss the corner of her mouth. "I want you." He kissed her chin. "In any way I can get you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." He kissed down her neck, once, twice, three times. "Forever."

"Forever," she repeated, sliding her hand up his arm and over his shoulder. "That's a long time. And a pretty big declaration. Especially for a guy going away to a different college in three and a half months."

He nipped at her skin, soothing it with a flick of his tongue. "What if I wasn't?"

"Wasn't what?"

"Going to a different college. What if I picked Harvard?"

She looked up at him. "Do you want to go to Harvard?" she wondered, eyes narrowed.

"I want you."

She sighed. "Oliver, going to college is not something you should be doing for me. You have to pick the right place and the right school."

"There's never going to be a right school," he said bluntly. "That's not who I am. But I want to be where you are. And not just because of this, or last night, or how I feel about you. I want to be with you because things make sense when we're together. Because I try when I'm with you. Because I'm happy when I've got you there. So it doesn't matter what school I end up in or what state or what city, just as long as I've got you."

She smiled up at him, trying not to and failing miserably. "You're a cheeseball, you know that?"

"Just for you, Smoak." He wrapped his arms around her waist and let his mouth hover just over hers. "So? What are we?"

"We are… we. Us. Just like we've always been." She pushed up on her tip toes and kissed him softly, quickly. "You know, my mom used to say we always looked cute together."

"Smart woman your mom." He grinned as he kissed her, lingering, long and deep. "Always liked her," he said, pecking her lips once more.

Felicity chuckled under her breath. "I'll let her know."

"She'll make a good mother-in-law."

"Oliver," she laughed.

"Just planning ahead, like you always tell me to."

Felicity rolled her eyes.

The bell rang then, reminding them that they had class. This one, at least, was together. She grabbed up her books from her locker and closed it before joining him to walk down the hall to his. When he had his own History books in hand, he reached for her, their pinkies twining together easily as they made their way down the hall.

He wondered if that was what his English teacher meant when she emphasized the point of symbolism.

Felicity was his partner, his anchor, the hand that reached for his when he was down; she was his best friend and his girlfriend and the great love of his life.

Everything she'd said before was true, about no one else replacing him in her life or repeating those things he'd done for her and continued to do for the rest of their lives. She met people. She grew and had friends outside of him, people just as smart and nice and hopeful as she was. Just like he did. He made new friends and even joined a study group she wasn't a part of, and found he kind of liked the less structured but far more personal setting of college versus high school. He grew out of the guy who let his dad pave the way for everything and found his footing in a world where he always felt a little off balance. It helped, of course, that he had her to come home to each night, to climb into bed beside, but he was still his own person, growing and making mistakes and figuring out who he was. And by the time he finished at Harvard, he was a better man for it. He got through the exams and the stress and the uncertainty of being good enough, eventually becoming as confident as he acted for others. Becoming someone who didn't rely on Felicity's presence in his life but appreciated that it was there all the same.

Years later, after she finished MIT and he graduated from Harvard, they moved back to Starling City. Together, they opened a tech company, of which he handled the business side of things while she did the actual tech work. They got a townhouse together in a nice part of town and settled into domesticity, meaning coffee Sundays and arguing over paint colors and 'fine, Oliver, you can turn the basement into a mancave for you and Tommy and your fantasy football league, but I'm making the den into a library slash personal theater and the door will look like a TARDIS.' And finally, after seven years of dating and sixteen years of friendship, they stood in front of friends and family, with those same two fingers knotted together, as they took vows to love, honor, and cherish one another for as long as they both should live.

Life was good. Life was everything he didn't know he wanted until he really had a chance at it.

And, as if he ever had a chance to forget just how lucky he was, twenty-years after it all began, Oliver found himself in that familiar park once more, where he caught a small, crying, blonde girl, stuck half-way across the monkey bars, scared that she might fall. He was a little too tall for his daughter to stand on his shoulders, but they made it work. As she ran off, giggling and carefree, he joined his wife on the bench, where she kissed his cheek and told him he was her hero. It felt just as good as he remembered.


author's note: this is one from my gif prompt collection that I have a crapload of. I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review; they're my lifeblood!

- Lee | Fina