AN: Written for the "princess in shroud" prompt for 100-fairytales on Livejournal. This is a one-shot and will not be continued.

UndercoverFelicity

Oliver sends Felicity out into the field again. He hates to admit it; she's getting good at it. It tugs at his nerves, seeing her out in the open like that, putting her in danger and letting her loose beyond his reach.

Her awkward tone has always soothed him; feeling real and so Felicity, yet when she shifts into character, nervous at first and then smooth, playing her part, he feels like he's losing her.

That uncomfortable pinch in his gut tightens, and every second she's in harm's way he has to remind himself to breathe.

She surprises him every time.

Felicity comes out of the spare room fully dressed for the mission in a sleek black dress with her hair down and her glasses gone, almost knocking his cool, comfortable demeanor from its stance.

She becomes a different person, desirable and wanton, a skin under another skin he doesn't recognize, but can appreciate. She quickly flashes him a weak smile, and he picks up on the awkward tension as she catches him staring at her. Her eyes widen a bit, he notices, and he can see she's making a mental note of the moment, putting it aside.

Oliver feels her fingers cautiously hover over his wound and he winces. She looks at him with tears forming in her eyes. They almost failed. He'd almost lost her, and he only made it in time to take the bullet for her. It was only a graze against his shoulder, but any second longer it could have killed her, piercing her heart and taking her away from him forever.

He hears her choke back a gasp, and he pulls her closer to him, nuzzling his face in her hair painted with drops of his blood, and he whispers against her, "It's okay. You're okay."

She buries her face into his chest, and Oliver feels a strange wave of peace wash over him.

She feels like home - a new home.

This mission is particularly dangerous, but Diggle is gone and Felicity insists on going. They are getting closer to finding the Dark Archer, with their prime lead hiding in a den of high-class thugs. Felicity finds a way in (as she always does) and Oliver resists her pleas to go.

She devises a foolproof plan as well as a plan B and C, and he can't say no. They are so close. This is the best chance.

So once again Felicity Smoak changes herself for him. She slides into a red dress, teases her hair and puts the glasses away. She steps into danger, as a new woman, all for him.

When she barely makes it out alive with only an arrow in her leg, Oliver cries for vengeance and he almost loses his cool.

The Dark Archer and his goons are gone, and the closest chance they've had has escaped into the night. He finds Felicity on the ground, wincing and trying to be strong from the arrow wound in her leg. Tenderly, Oliver soothes her. He draws her into his arms and holds her close to him, carrying her back to the basement of the club. The entire time Felicity complains, she takes blame, and her voice waves with raw fear.

Every word and every tear grates on his bones and brings his fears to the forefront of his mind.

When did Felicity Smoak become so important to him? When did his world, this lonely darkness that he's become, start to include her? When did his heart wash away his past, his scars, and make room for her?

He doesn't know when it happened. She changes his mind every time she puts on a sleek dress, turns on the earpiece and follows his words through corridors of danger. She moves him every time she smiles, or cries, or reminds him of the better person he could become - the better person she sees when she looks at him, but the man does not see himself.

And somewhere in all of this danger, in this life they lead together, the past in his heart has faded away. Feelings for what he's lost has dulled and blew away in the wind. His friendship with Felicity fills that space, growing and forming into something new.

Carefully he cleans her wound, stitching her up and urging her to rest. She looks up at him with such trust it almost makes him angry for putting her in danger in the first place. She reaches up for his face and cups his cheek, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry we didn't get him."

Oliver pursed his lips. "Next time," he says, staring at her with concern. "What matters is that you're safe, Felicity. Now, you have to heal. You've done more than enough."

He turns his head into her palm and brushes his lips against her trembling skin. He sees Felicity smile sleepily in the corner of his eye.

Felicity's leg heals up nicely and soon she's walking normally again, wearing her quirky outfits and moving around her station with determination as if she were never injured. She's back on the case looking for the Dark Archer, and Oliver has to remind her to slow down.

Diggle comes to help and relieve some of her burden, and Felicity stays in her chair, continuing her research and searching through secure channels. The three of them fall into a sense of normalcy, but Oliver can't help but think about Felicity, about how he doesn't want her to be in the field again like that, to be at risk and almost die. Not by doing his work, and certainly not in a way where he cannot protect her.

He just knows Felicity, and she's not going to give up that part of her role lightly. He can't protect her all the time, and he knows she wants to prove to him that she's a solid member of his team.

She transforms again, but thankfully this mission involves all of them. They're infiltrating another fancy party again, and rumors for a trap and an attack give them no choice. They need as much help as they can get. Diggle and even Roy have stepped in to help, and as they keep guard outside, Felicity and Oliver move into the belly of the beast.

Felicity takes his arm, and he pulls her onto the dancefloor of the party, circling them around so he can scope out the armed guards and set up of the place, looking for weaknesses and anything suspicious. Felicity looks around too, but he can tell she's having trouble being this close to him. Her voice trembles a bit, and she's hesitant to get too close.

Oliver pulls her against him, squeezing her hand with reassurance, and then he looks into her eyes. For a moment they are trapped in a pause, and when Oliver locks with her stare he starts to read too much, her feelings and desires that he's always hesitated to see, knowing they are always there.

"Focus," he says, but he doesn't know if he's telling her, or himself.

She nods once, and he looks down, his gaze finding purchase on the dress she chose: royal blue, and in his opinion, the most suitable color for her. It distracts him for a second before he sees suspicious movement in the ballroom's staircase and tells his team that he means to slip out and follow.

He lets go of Felicity and orders her to keep watch, hovering by the punch table, keeping him informed if anyone follows him.

When he takes off, he becomes the Hood again, and he has to put his thoughts, and Felicity's blue dress, on hold.

The mission goes as planned. They are that much closer to finding the Dark Archer, and with some of his higher up goons in custody, Oliver knows he's close, and coming even closer to his mother's involvement in the gang.

Diggle and Roy head home afterward, but Felicity follows Oliver back to the club to change and pick up her purse. She insists she can go alone, but Oliver wants to make sure she's safe. Plus, he has some work to do after she leaves, hoping to pound out some of his frustrations in a vigorous workout.

(He puts on sweats and begins to climb his way up the bars. His mind wanders back to one thought: when did he get over Laurel and when did Felicity sneak inside his mind? When did all that he feel, every guilty speck and regretful pain start to dull and scar over, making way for new skin? His affection for Laurel never wavers, but his love for her? When did he grow beyond that? When did it all simmer into a nostalgic echo of his past?

He reaches the top, and he hears a door open below him.)

Oliver doesn't let her leave.

She drapes that blue dress over her arm and begins to say goodbye, but when he descends from the bars to catch up with her, he pulls her arm and draws her into his chest. She squeaks startled, and starts to babble as he cups her cheeks into his hands and draws her face near him.

He fears that adrenaline fuels him, but it isn't that. This wanting is long overdue. He's seen her change into so many desirable disguises that tease his baser senses. He's seen her blood spilled over his missions. He's wiped away her tears and felt her words etch themselves into his heart. He's seen into her eyes as she's cared for him.

No one has ever looked at him like that. No one has ever trusted him, the real Oliver that he is now, like that. Only Felicity.

His mouth covers hers, and she melts into him. His tongue spills past her lips, searching and delving for her taste. She sighs against him, and he feels her arms wind around his waist, molding against him perfectly like the puzzle piece he's been missing this whole time.

His fingers pull at her ponytail, snaking through her hair, delighting in her softness against his hands.

Reluctantly, he breaks away, and in her shocked expression, he finds pure contentment. She looks dazed and pleased, as if she's been waiting for that moment the entire time. He furrows his brow when he looks at her, noticing something missing.

Something incomplete.

"Your glasses," he breathes, and she pauses for a beat, and then she releases a nervous laugh.

She moves back to her computers and picks up the spectacles, placing them where they belong. In a swift motion, Oliver backs her against the table and stops before he takes her lips again.

Better, he thinks. This is how he knows Felicity. She's worn many disguises for him, but this is the version he likes the most.

The Felicity he knows best.

END