Fever (Olicity, Season 4.5)
“Put me down.”
Her voice was weak and strained, barely audible through her gritted teeth. She was burning up, growing hotter by the second in his arms, and even if he didn’t know she’d stumble and fall if he set her down, he wouldn’t, not like this. God, not ever. If this was the last time… No. That wasn’t going to happen, no way.
They had the antidote downstairs, or the closest thing to it, whatever she’d managed to put together in the last twelve hours. He hoped it’d work, because if it didn’t…
“Felicity.”
She whimpered.
The elevator seemed to be stuck in molasses for how fucking slow it was moving.
“Oliver… please…”
Despite her protests, she was clinging to him, one hand digging into his neck, the other holding onto his jacket like her life depended on it. And it did. His stomach twisted at that and he shook his head, shifting her closer, hissing when the hot skin of her forehead brushed his chin.
“Hold on, baby, we’re almost there. Just…” His voice dropped, his eyes closing. “Just hold on. Please.”
He couldn’t lose her, not like this. Not with so much left unsaid, so much left unfinished between them.
The violent urge to ram his fist into the wall rose in his chest at the thought of the last several weeks of walking on eggshells around each other, neither willing to push too hard, to say too much. The urge for more - to tell her how he felt, to ask her if her furtive glances and lingering touches meant more, could mean more - it’d slowly grown inside him until it was all he could think about, all he could see when he was around her.
But he’d waited, telling himself there was a moment, a special moment.
It might have all been for nothing.
No.
“It’s too… hot,” she gasped, her voice heavy with tears.”I can’t…”
“Hold on, Felicity, don’t you dare say that.”
