oliver sparks ☆ oliver queen. (![]() ![]() @ 2017-09-30 14:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * kit, * terri, c: finnley sparks, c: oliver sparks |
WHO: Oliver Sparks & Finnley Parker
WHEN: September 11, 2017; Evening
WHERE: Finnley’s house
SUMMARY: Oliver makes dinner, they kiss, and share a memory.
WARNINGS: None.
It had taken Finnley no less than five wardrobe chances before she’d finally settled on a magenta dress with elbow length sleeves and ankle boots. Her nerves had slowly melted after Oliver had arrived, especially when her kitchen seemed to live up to whatever expectations she had set up for it. Wine had been poured as he cooked and she observed. It didn’t look hard, but she’d had near catastrophic experiences in the kitchen before, so she left the cooking to him and hoped that providing conversation was enough of a contribution. “I am not a domestic dream, but I do know how to set the table,” she poked a little fun at herself as she got out dishes and cutlery in preparation for their meal. “I wish I could say that it was a chore, but mom just really wanted me to be able to tell the difference between a salad fork, a dinner fork, and a dessert fork.” She smiled a little and held up two dinner forks, “I promise I’m only going to set out one fork a piece.” She would gather a spoon and knife in case they were wanted to cut the pasta or twirl it into the spoon, but neither were absolutely necessary. Under normal circumstances, most people would consider this a date. Finnley wasn’t really sure what they would classify it as. Everything between them was so…unspoken. They couldn’t stay that way for forever, but actually acknowledging the strangely familiar connection between them had yielded poor results before and she was hesitant to mention it again so soon. It had been seven weeks to the day, and in that time she’d surpassed smitten and marched straight into something more like...adoration, “More wine?” -- Any nerves Oliver had had about the evening had quickly vanished when Finnley had opened the door and he’d seen her. She somehow had that effect on him--it didn’t matter the context of their meeting, she always instilled in him a sense of calm. Being around her focused him, made him truly believe that he could face the worst things and be okay if he could only see her, or hear her voice. That was part of what exacerbated his nerves when he wasn’t with her. It seemed crazy to feel so certain about someone he barely knew. Even that first night, he’d felt a connection to her like his soul knew hers and his heart had been looking for hers his whole life. Most of him knew that defied any sort of logic. The other part of him couldn’t stay away from her. So despite his brother teasing him, Oliver had shown up at Finnley’s with the silent hope that, whether unspoken or not, this would have the potential to be an actual date. Supplies in hand, he’d let Finnley lead the way to the kitchen where it had taken great self-control not to openly weep at the underutilized area. The meal itself was pretty simple to make and, as much as he liked the idea of trying to impress her with his skills, Oliver instead took advantage of the ease of it to spend more time talking to Finnley and drinking the wine she offered. This was always one of his favorite things to do with Jonas, preparing meals together, but he found that he loved it in a very different way when he was making a meal with Finnley, even if he was the only one actually cooking. “I don’t know,” he replied, a cheeky grin on his face. “This pasta is so fancy, it might require two.” He’d never personally eaten at a table that was set to cotillion standards, but he’d worked at enough upscale restaurants to be able to identify where exactly each dish and piece ought to be placed. Still, he had yet to understand why so many forks were even necessary--he was the sort to use one fork for salad, dinner, and dessert, even if it meant a slight risk of mixing flavors. He covered the pan to let the contents for a few more minutes and held out his glass for the refill. “I can’t believe this kitchen has been hiding in here this whole time,” he remarked, “I hope you know this means you won’t be able to keep me away now.” -- “I would almost agree with that, except that I can’t imagine shoveling pasta into my mouth with two forks at once would be attractive in any situation. I mean, it’s tempting. It smells amazing, and I’m sure it’s going to be fantastic. For the sake of retaining some amount of decorum, I’m only going to allow myself one fork,” she grinned and picked up the bottle of wine so that she could top off his glass again. She’d had just enough that there was a warm feeling settled into the bottom of her stomach, though that might have just been a reaction to Oliver’s presence. Finnley was always hyper aware of everything when he was around, but only within the privacy of the space that they shared. Everything else just seemed to turn to white noise. She couldn’t help but laugh a little when he remarked that she wouldn’t be able to keep him away, as though she might actually want to, “You’re welcome here anytime, Oliver.” It might have been a serious thing to offer, considering that they were still actually getting to know one another. She knew that she wouldn’t take the words back, though. Until she’d met him, she hadn’t known what she was missing, and now...the thought of life without him sucked the air right from her lungs, “You know, when I bought this house, I debated on whether it needed a kitchen at all, much less this kitchen.” Sipping the wine from her glass, she shrugged one shoulder and remarked, “I kind of always hoped that it would be useful...that someone would be able to enjoy it. I’ve never made…well, anything, with any kind of success. Not food related, anyway. I love to eat, but I don’t know the first thing about actually cooking. I tried to do one of those easy, frozen, instant meal in a skillet things that are supposed to be foolproof and I burned a pan in five minutes.” -- Oliver laughed and it felt so good to feel so light-hearted and happy. He loved his life, of course, and Jonas brought him so much joy, but there had always been a part of him that felt like he was just out of arm’s reach of feeling right. It had started around the time his father had died and he was sure it had a lot to do with the fact that he’d had to grow up too fast shortly thereafter, thanks to too many years of therapy helping him work that one out. But in the moments when he could just stand by and watch as Finnley embarked on one of her endearing rambles, and as the gentle flush crept inconspicuously across her cheeks, he found his heart genuinely full. It was a terrifying yet exhilarating feeling, really. Terrifying primarily because he’d never shaken that feeling he’d had when he’d first seen her that his soul knew hers in a way that could never be untangled. “I take it as the highest compliment when someone enjoys my food so much that they shovel it in with two forks,” he replied, chuckling at the mental image as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a small drink. Clearing his throat and setting the glass down on the counter, he covered the pasta with a lid to let it simmer. “I don’t know what would have hurt more, walking into this kitchen so woefully neglected, or no kitchen at all,” he teased. An eyebrow shot up, Oliver’s features contorting into a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “How did you manage that in five minutes? I--” he cut himself off and pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh, “You’ve got real talent in the kitchen, Fin. Let’s leave it at that.” He removed the lid and stirred the contents of pan and turned off the burner, motioning for Finnley to come closer. “Taste this and let me know if it’s just the right amount of spice.” He lifted the wooden spoon, cupping his hand under it and held it toward her. -- “I’m going to guess walking into a house without a kitchen. It would seem a little empty, I think. I didn’t need another living room. This is a good space, and it fits this house,” she nodded a little as she assessed the situation. She hadn’t ever been into a house that didn’t have a kitchen at all, and as some people viewed it as the heart of the home, she was pretty sure a house without one would feel...wrong, somehow. His disbelief at her cooking disaster was almost a compliment, she thought, because at least she was a champion at that failure, “It was something to do with scorching hot pans and entirely frozen ingredients. If you ever actually need a kitchen fire set, just call me up.” She sidled closer when he gestured for her, looking up at him curiously until he asked if she would taste the pasta to see if it was to her liking. She tested what was offered to her, taking the small bite. She hummed a pleased note, licking her lips a little, even as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back a little, “Oliver,” she sighed, “That’s perfect.” -- Oliver couldn’t help himself but to watch the expression on Finnley’s face as she tasted the sauce. He was always too concerned with how others liked the things he cooked, but he felt overly invested in her reaction. It didn’t help that he couldn’t tear his gaze away as her eyes closed and her head tilted back and he found himself fighting the urge to cup a hand around her neck, just so that he could be connected to her in that moment. The urge startled him and he cleared his throat, putting the spoon down in the spoon rest, though his gaze never left her. “I’ll just let it simmer another few minutes, then, and dinner will be ready to serve,” he said, and he instinctively moved closer to her. That was always the way when he was near Finnley. It was as though, now that he was in her orbit, he couldn’t fight her gravitational pull. He chuckled then and added, “Did you mean to save some for later? Because I promise there’s enough here for seconds and thirds, if you love it.” He lifted a hand and, with his thumb, gently swiped away some sauce from her bottom lip that must have dripped from the bottom of the spoon. -- She’d never intended to make herself a temptation. Finnley didn’t over analyze her actions, at least not until they had already happened. Her eyes opened when he cleared his throat, but she found that his eyes were still on her. It didn’t feel as though he were judging her, though, especially not when he moved closer, right into what could have been considered her personal space. Finnley wasn’t sure if such a thing existed with Oliver. She definitely didn’t let most people stand this close to her, unless they were trusted friends or family. He was...something else to her, but she didn’t have a word for it. Whatever existed between them defied explanation or definition. His laugh warmed her, weaving under her skin and lifting goosebumps on her arms as he asked if she was saving some for later, “Seconds, at least, I--” she didn’t really have time to process more of a response before he had lifted his hand to brush his thumb over her lower lip. The breath left her lungs just at that minimal point of contact. The whole world went on around them, but Finnley was fixated on this one point. Before she even knew what she was going to do, she knew it was pivotal. Whatever she did in the next moment was going to change their course. If she didn’t follow her instincts, she was certain she would regret it in the coming days. Her consideration took only the space of a few heartbeats. In that moment, for better or for worse, she was brave. Finnley pushed up onto her toes, her fingers a light press to his chest for balance as she pressed her lips to his. -- Finnley had this way of making all of the noise around them go silent and Oliver was both excited by this and slightly terrified by the affect she already had on his world. He wasn't used to depending on anything other than himself and his son but around her, he knew he depended on her presence in his life now, too. The knowledge of that fact was overwhelming and confusing and wonderful all at the same time. So it was with little to no hesitation that his thumb shifted until it was his whole hand cupping her cheek, his fingers brushing gently over her skin. His other arm went around her waist, pulling her to him and turning what was tentative into a certain, confident embrace. It was almost instantaneous the way his chest burst and burned, the way it was like his soul knew even better than he did that this pivotal choice was the right choice. Unable to help himself, Oliver smiled into the kiss. This was one time that he took no issue with his older brother being right. -- He pulled her flush to his chest, and her world spun. There was something heady and longing in those kisses that wasn't just from the way they had skirted around this moment for the last few weeks. It was as though she'd been waiting years, a lifetime, all to bring her to this moment in which Oliver Sparks smiled against her lips. She couldn't help her matching grin, even as she settled into him, dragging out this kiss for as long as he would allow. Everything about him focused her senses, from his touch to his taste and the scent of his soap. The smell of sterilization stung at her nose, but Felicity was trying not to let despair grip at her heart. Of all the words she'd ever wanted Oliver Queen to say to her, “We need to talk,” didn't even register on the list. It had been a difficult day for the both of them, but she knew where this was headed and she hoped she could stop this trajectory in its tracks. As they slowly walked down that hallway, to what felt like an ending when it should have been a beginning, she braced herself, “I don't want to talk.” Her words were more clipped than she wanted them to be, but nothing about this felt fair. It made it worse than he was a step in front of her, and she couldn't see his face to even begin to try reading him, “Which, for me, I know is a little unprecedented. But…” they paused there in that damnable hospital hallway, and the look in his eyes wasn't reassuring. She shook her head slightly, wanting to deny it, “As soon as we talk, it's over.” -- Oliver hesitated, just for a moment, his face pained. It was fleeting, but long enough to reflect on all of the reasons why this conversation was so necessary. He could see Felicity lying on the floor of the restaurant, covered in soot, and debris, and blood, and Detective Lance on the ground after going after Werner. It was more than that, though, it was watching his mother die in front of him, the countless times Thea had been used against him, and everyone else who’d ever been hurt or killed because of who he was, who he had to be. He had become an expert at sacrificing the things that made him Oliver Queen so that he could become more than he had been and now he had to keep doing it because it was the only way to not only protect his city but to protect the people he loved, as well. There were so many things he regretted and he wouldn’t let Felicity become one of those things, no matter how much it killed another piece of him to let her go. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes stay steadfast on hers. He felt his heart tugging--cold, invisibly finger curling around it and squeezing--but he pressed onward because he knew that he loved her and loved her enough to force the rest of the words out. “I thought I could be me and The Arrow.” He paused, swallowing hard, wanting to swallow the next words, too. “But I can’t,” he said emphatically. He took a sharp breath, hating every second and every word. “Not now,” he continued and hesitated again, a long, heartbreaking moment stretching between them. “Maybe not ever.” -- As soon as he started speaking, she wanted to make him stop. Every word was like a knife to her heart, even though she knew he was stupidly noble enough to give up anything he actually wanted for himself just to try to protect her. He always tried to protect her - everyone, for that matter - even when she wished that he wouldn’t. She could only take the risk if he would let her. Instead, the longer he talked, the more he drove a wedge between them that she was afraid they may never breech. She had followed him this far, and every moment had been worth it. This one, however, was more difficult to bear than most. “Then say never,” she begged, immediate and torn, “Stop…” she could hardly get the words past her throat, but she pushed on, “dangling maybes.” She shook her head, but her pleas growing more desperate by the moment, “Say it’s never going to work out between us. Say you never loved me. Say…” -- Of all the things that Oliver could do to protect Felicity, pretending like he’d never loved her was not one of them. His composure broke, his breath catching in his throat. With a slight shake of his head, he breathed, “Oh, Felicity.” And then his hands were cupping either side of her face and, in one small act of selfishness, he was closing the gap between them and his lips were pressing to hers. It was a dream, this, kissing her. He’d imagined it too many times under too many different circumstances. His heart had yearned for hers for longer than he’d been willing to admit and, as much as this kiss was everything he’d imagined and more, it was yet another moment to add to the ongoing list of tragedies he had to survive. He pulled back, already hating the space between them, but held her face in his hands as though he could tether them both to this moment in this spot because the next moment would be goodbye. “Don’t ask me to say that I don’t love you.” -- For a moment, Felicity began to hope. That kiss that he pressed to her lips was everything. She had dreamt of scenarios for how this might play out. Every time she let it slip, he had graciously ignored it and she had consoled herself with thinking that it would never be more than a fantasy. He kissed her like it was a promise and a goodbye all at the same time. It wasn’t fair to either of them. She wondered if she would be better off never having known what it was like to taste his kiss upon her lips. She wished that she could rewind, back to when he’d asked her to dinner...but she still would have said yes. When it came to Oliver, she would always have found her way to this moment. She couldn’t look away from him, those words splitting her heart right down the middle. He loved her, and if she were being honest, she had loved him for a very long time. It wasn’t as simple as saying that. Loving him didn’t change anything. He was still the Arrow, and he had made his decision. Perhaps loving each other would never be enough. “I told you as soon as we talked…” she swallowed past the raw, feeling in her throat, every part of her screaming at the unfairness of this situation. She couldn’t stay...and despite everything else, she wouldn’t stoop to begging him to change his mind in the middle of a hospital hallway. She knew it would just lead to more disappointment, “It would be over.” She gently pushed against his forearms, just enough that she could break free of his touch. Before she’d even fully turned, she was swiping at her eyes, brushing away unwanted tears as she walked away from everything she could never have. She would always be part of his team, her place there was clear, but she needed some time to figure out heal from the damage that had just been wrought. -- For as much as he wanted to go after her, Oliver lingered where he was, hands still raised to where her face had been in them just a second before. He couldn’t even watch her leave because his resolve was breaking and if it broke, he’d stop her. He’d tell her he was wrong, that he could have both, that he’d try to have both. But he knew, and he knew that she did too on some level, that it just wasn’t the truth. Everyone he loved was constantly in danger--it was that love that he’d used to get one step ahead of Slade, after all. Oliver knew that, if he loved Felicity as much as he was sure he did, he wouldn’t willingly put a glaring target on her back. After a moment, his hands dropped and his phone rang and he was equal parts grateful for the distraction and irritated that someone was breaking him away from this spot here in this hospital hallway where he’d had everything he could have had with Felicity and lost everything he could never have with her. His voice broke, his emotions betraying him as he answered the call. And then Oliver was no longer at the hospital but standing in Finnley’s kitchen, his own hands framing her face, his lips just barely parted from hers. His heart was racing and it was difficult to discern what was real and what was not. “Felic--” he sucked in a breath. No, not Felicity. “Finnley,” he said, the word almost muffled against her mouth. -- She’d had dreams before that had involved Oliver...dreams that she hadn’t told him about. They didn’t seem like just imaginings, because she usually found herself changed by them somehow. She could have any fantasy that she wanted, but dreaming about being his I.T. girl and then waking up with computer skills was...life-altering, really. Nothing had ever hit her like that while she was awake, and she’d fallen away from the world for long enough that, at some point, tears had welled up in her eyes. As he said that fraction of a name, her heart skipped in her chest. Felicity. It didn’t feel wrong like she thought it might. Somehow, in that moment, her own name almost felt inferior. A few tears slipped down over her cheeks, but she couldn’t suppress these emotions any more than she could ignore that it had happened...and that he seemed to have shared it with her. It felt like her world had crumbled around her and the devastation seemed all too real. “Oliver,” her voice cracked on his name, though it was just the same as it had always been. Finnley reached up, her hands gripping onto his wrists, just as she remembered doing a few moments before. She felt unsure about what she should do. There was a part of her that was certain leaving was the only option left to her, but was that...a remnant of something that might not even be real? It was such the opposite of what she wanted to do. Finnley didn’t know what was happening to them, but her heart seemed to have shattered. -- Oliver found himself on the verge of tears himself. His eyes were hot and raw emotion closed its fist around his throat. As her fingers curled over his wrists, Oliver felt his pulse quicken and a sheer feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm him. He had to do something, say something, or he was going to lose her. It didn’t make any sense because he was here and there was nothing keeping them apart but he was as certain that he had to fight for her now as he was certain that that hadn’t just been a waking dream. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones and he pressed his forehead to hers. Voice pleading, he said, “Don’t leave. Don’t ask me to leave.” He didn’t know what was happening or why that vision of a life that he knew wasn’t his was clinging so tightly to his reality. All Oliver knew was that he had finally kissed Finnley and he was terrified that he wouldn’t get the chance to do it again. -- It was his voice that coerced reason back into her fraying mind. From the very first day that they met, there had been a deeper connection between them. It had been unexplained, and even now she couldn’t claim to understand it. Every time she experienced something like this it just made her feel like there was a whole world that she was missing...a whole part of herself that she didn’t even know. Don’t leave. Don’t ask me to leave. Her fingers tightened a little on his forearms for the briefest moment, and she stepped forward so that she could press her lips to his, a near desperate edge to her kiss. She hadn’t imagined that she had the ability to speak. Her throat felt so tight that it seemed impossible. This time, she firmly remained in the kitchen, though she seemed to find some reserve of strength. When her lips parted from his, she remained close, “I’m not going anywhere, Oliver. I want you to stay. I need you to stay. Just please...don’t say never...I can’t...” She was at a loss for words, emotions raw with that other world still encroaching on her thoughts. She couldn’t do that again. She couldn’t lose him, especially not when they’d just found one another. -- Oliver shook his head and let his hands move slowly from her cheeks to her neck and down until they rested on her shoulders. He couldn’t explain what had just happened, couldn’t deny the way he felt so hollowed out and filled with such a heavy guilt and sense of dread. He could barely maintain his grasp on this reality because the tendrils of the vision that clung to him were so real, too. What he did know what that Finnley meant something to him that he wanted to figure out. And he knew that there was no part of him that could deny the possibility of the two of them being something great. Tilting his head up, he pressed his lips gently to her forehead. “This doesn’t feel like a goodbye and I don’t plan on making it one,” he said. -- Finnley closed her eyes, letting out a slightly shaky breath as his lips brushed against her forehead. It seemed to take some of the tension out of her muscles, draining just a little of the fear and pain that had wrapped so tightly around her heart. She stepped forward, slipping her arms around his waist and hugging herself to him closely. Just that simple gesture went a long way to making her feel more certain that they were going to be fine, “It's not a goodbye.” She took a deep breath and finally, softly acknowledged what had thrown them to this moment in the first place, “I don't know what that was, Oliver…but I don't ever want that to be us. I don't think I could bear it.” -- If he couldn’t even explain it to himself, Oliver knew he couldn’t try to ease Finnley’s mind by explaining it away to her. He figured they were both overwhelmed enough by the shared experience that it was a moot point to even try to explain, anyway. He brushed a thumb lightly over her lips and, quietly, said, “Hold that thought.” Pulling away from her, as much as it pained him to do so, he turned to turn off the burner on the stove. “Let’s start over. As us,” he said and, this time, he initiated the kiss himself. Whatever had just transpired, and regardless of the fact that he could never make promises that he couldn’t reasonably keep, he wanted her to know that they could claim their own first kiss that belonged to no one else but them. And so he kissed her and focused so completely on her that there was no way that someone else’s life could claim it this time. -- She didn’t have time to get upset or panic stricken when he pulled away, watching his moves keenly as he turned off the burner. She hadn’t started to smell anything like her normally burnt attempts, so she figured their dinner would be fine. She knew that she couldn’t block out everything that she’d seen from her mind, but starting again seemed a welcome distraction. Finnley didn’t know what was going to happen between them, but she knew that she wanted more of this. She knew that even if they continued to have strange visions, she would still want to hang onto this as tightly as she was allowed. She knew that this was worth waiting for, and they owed it to themselves to explore the connection that now tethered them together. When she thought back on this moment, she would remember this first. This was the beginning that should have been, and every small sensation just pushed everything else further from her mind until the world was perfectly still and quiet. She kept her eyes closed for a moment even when their lips parted, taking in a slow breath, an easy smile finally pulling at her lips again as she opened her eyes to look up at him, “That was better. Much better.” |