She's not sure what she's expecting in the box, exactly - jewellery, maybe (but they're not together, so he wouldn't get her that, surely). So when she opens it and lifts the key with the nerdy keychain, Felicity feels exactly as confused as she says she does.

But Oliver doesn't waver. "I know that when I took William in, we agreed that we would keep our distance because - he was gonna have a lot to process."

"He still has a lot to process," she says. "And I don't want things to move too fast like -"

"Like last time?" Oliver says softly.

"I didn't mean that," Felicity blurts out. God, she normally had a bit of a foot in mouth problem but this is on a whole new level. But to her surprise he shakes his head.

"You mind if I sit?"

"This literally used to be our loft, Oliver," she reminds him as she sets down the key and box on a nearby table.

"'Used to be' being the operative words," he says, but when she gestures to the beanbag he sits cautiously on it. After a moment of hesitation Felicity joins him.

"Still," she says, "don't think you have to ask. You're my -"

Damn it. She's done it again. And yet Oliver doesn't seem to mind, just like he never really seems to mind when she talks with her heart instead of her head.

"We were partners," he says for her. "But now that I've hung up the hood, things have changed. And it's okay. I know… things weren't perfect the first time round, even before everything happened with Samantha. We went from being friends to running away together in that Porsche and living together and -"

"- being engaged, then not engaged, then getting fake married," she says, and Oliver grimaces.

"I mean, minus the whole engagement part, I've been here before, so to be honest, I don't know why I'm so scared."

It takes her a moment to get past the idea of Oliver Jonas Queen being scared of coming to her apartment and talking to her to understand what he means there. "You mean with Laurel?"

"Back when I was the Hood, I made a lot of bad choices. And one of them was…"

"Oliver, we've been through this," she says patiently. For the first time she finds herself taking his hand and squeezing it with her own. "And I don't… resent you for your history with Laurel, however messy it was -"

"If it was messy that was on me," Oliver says firmly. "But I know you don't resent me for it, Felicity."

"Why would I? I loved her, same as you. And I know you're a different person now."

"I know," Oliver says patiently. "But that's not actually what I meant. I… you never really knew Tommy."

"I talked to him on the phone once and I met him really briefly. He was cute. And I remember you telling me you two definitely made out at some point."

"We were wasted on tequila shots and God knows what else."

"Still counts." Oliver just shrugs and smiles in that easygoing way of his that he's has ever since John took on the mantle of the Green Arrow.

"Anyway, you probably remember that he was dating Laurel at the time. But then, soon after Tommy found out about me being the Hood he… broke it off with her. And I - I told him to fight for her, to go to her and try to reconcile. But then - later - at the first hint of the possibility that I could hang up the hood, I…"

But she holds up her hand to stop him now. "Let me guess. You went to her apartment, used your, uh, smouldering charm with her and then eventually -"

"Eventually," Oliver says, and she notices his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"- you ended up in bed together, even though you told Tommy that he should go to Laurel himself?"

"Yeah," he says heavily. "That's… pretty much it. And later, Tommy told me that he saw us. Together. Hence me talking about shitty decisions."

"But this is different?" She doesn't intend for it to come out a question, but it does.

"Yes. I'm different. I didn't tell Laurel about what I said to Tommy until after his funeral. And I think that's why I regret so much about her. Especially because she regretted it too. But this decision... it's not one I made as quickly."

"Right," Felicity says. "Because, for starters, it doesn't involve you asking me to fill Samantha's shoes in any way now that she's…."

"Absolutely not," he says firmly. "You were his math tutor for a week. Samantha was his mother, and no one can ever replace that. But I - saw you with him. And clearly he gets along with you. So this is just - me saying you can come by. Whenever you want. Your terms. And we can -"

"We can what?"

"We can - take it slow. If you want. Just like that key is yours if you want. Because I know his life will be better with you in it. Just like mine."

"Wow, gotta say, you probably did that all off the cuff with no problems, Mr Mayor," she says lightly, and although he smiles it's clear he can sense something is up.

"I told you that you didn't have to be funny for me," he tells her.

"Yeah, and right after that you proposed to me a second time," she says, once again without thinking.

"And I shouldn't have," he says bluntly. "I shouldn't have proposed the first time, let alone the second time. And I'm sorry -"

"Oliver, you don't have to apologise to me," Felicity interrupts. "Especially for stuff that happened over a year ago. We've talked about it. I just… I know that's not what you're doing now. You're giving me a key, not a ring. But after everything your child has been through, I don't want to seem like I'm ever intruding. So… you'll tell me, right? If I'm ever too much? Because, Oliver, I'm not a parent. You are."

"I'm still learning," he says, and this time his smile is more genuine. "And I promise - if you make a mistake, I'll tell you. I'm not much more qualified than you are, if I'm honest -"

"Oliver, you made a home for your son and are taking care of him as a single dad even when the press was having a field day after finding out the mayor had an illegitimate child who he was raising by himself. All while being a superhero. You are… more than qualified, believe me."

"Even though William still calls me Oliver?" he says, and there is such disappointment on his face that it's impossible for Felicity not to reach up and stroke his cheek.

"Give it time," she tells him softly. "He's still hurting. He needs to heal."

He lifts his hand to his face and covers her fingers with his own. "And you?"

"Are you sure about this? About… all of it. Me and you. And William. I want you to be sure."

"I'm sure of one thing," he says, and his arm goes around her waist. She turns towards him, puts her hand on his chest.

"What's that?"

"I think you know what it is." Oliver's eyes are sparkling now, with something that looks unabashedly like love.

"Yeah, but I've missed you saying it to me," Felicity says with a smile.

"Well, I mean, it's more that I'm sure of two things. The first is that I love my son more than life itself."

"Kind of figured that out already," she teases. "And the second thing?"

"The second thing is that I would do anything for you, Felicity Smoak, because…" He takes a deep breath, and then tucks her hair behind her ear. "I love you that much."

Finally. The words she's been looking for.

And she's not sure who kisses who at first; they both kind of simultaneously lean in together so the tips of their noses are just brushing against each other, and he's waiting, like he's been waiting for her for the last six months, and she realises that and lifts her face to his to kiss him. And God, has she missed him - the prickle of his stubble against her cheek, bruising her skin when he kisses back more insistently and slips his tongue into her mouth.

He lets out a little oh of surprise when she roughly shoves his jacket off his shoulders. Felicity climbs onto his lap, wishing they had sat on a firmer surface than the beanbag chair, but she refuses to move, not until his shirt is off at the very least.

"You okay?" she murmurs, and Oliver chuckles.

"Am I okay?"

"Yeah, like, I know you said you wanted to take things slow and I kind of jumped your bones just now -"

"Felicity," he says, and God, the way he says her name is like a prayer, "I said if you wanted to take things slow, we could. But you know me. I close my eyes and I jump."

"Kinda hoping you never did that when you were the Green Arrow," she says, shifting a little on his lap, and he groans - he actually groans - and it's the most glorious sound in the world to Felicity. She whispers, "Close your eyes," and obediently he does so, and she presses her palms against his chest, fingers instinctively going to his Bratva tattoo and then tracing the familiar paths of the scars that run down his torso.

She's not kissing him now; she's busy taking him in, getting used to all the ridges and imperfections that pattern his upper body.

"Yep, you definitely still have amazing abs," she tells him, and she feels the muscles contract under her hands as he laughs, eyes opening.

"My turn?" he asks, and it's her turn to laugh,because after all this time nothing between them has really changed. But when she nods she doesn't expect him to lift her up that easily and then deposit her just as quickly onto the beanbag chair. He catches her off guard and she yelps, but then Felicity starts taking off her top, and Oliver tries to unclasp her bra, but his hands are shaking so much that she finds it hard to believe he was ever an archer. She undoes it for him, tossing it aside and letting him bury his face in her neck and then down so his nose is right up between her breasts.

Then he looks up, his fingers hooked around the waistband of her pants, but he doesn't do anything, just gazes into her eyes, and she realises he's asking for permission. She kisses him in answer, her cheeks burning now from his beard, but she doesn't want to ever stop. She tugs down her remaining garments, and Felicity's heart thuds in anticipation when Oliver, on his knees, just - looks her up and down, as if he's memorising her body, relearning every inch of it. His eyes fix between her legs and he's barely even touching her, now, his fingers just skimming her hips, but she can feel the arousal shooting through her spine and settling almost painfully in her groin.

She moans needingly, and at last Oliver seems to take that as his cue to kiss her thigh. And Felicity can feel it - that sharp rasp of stubble against soft skin, but she also feels the pleasure, burning white-hot inside her, and she knows, truthfully, she wouldn't have it any other way. His tongue darts out to soothe her skin where his beard has bruised her, and he goes so slowly, too slowly, so when Felicity is ready to explode she grabs his hand, guides it straight to her centre. His fingers are rough, calloused, as two curl inside her and she gasps because it's been long, so long, since someone has touched her like this, so willingly and knowingly and perfectly.

"God, I've missed you," she finds herself whispering.

"I've missed you too," he murmurs reverently. "Far more than I can ever say with words."

"You don't have to say with words," Felicity says, and she can't help but reach down to stroke his jaw. "Just… show me."

And show her he does - he presses his face between her legs and buries his tongue inside her and sets her on fire from the inside out, making her whimper and cry out his name and urge him on as her heels dig into his back. Still he doesn't stop, not until she's come twice and her hips finally still against his jaw.

Oliver wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then looks up at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she replies, grabbing his bare shoulders and pulling him up so he's half on top of her, in order for her to kiss him. His weight is warm atop her and she can feel his persistent need for her digging into her thigh. "Can you believe I forgot how good you were at that?"

"Really?"

"No," she says with a laugh. She tries to tug down his pants, but she struggles, and Oliver's hands cover her wrists as he slows her a bit. "But, I mean, sex with you is kind of always unforgettable."

"Even our first time?" he asks with an embarrassed smile.

"Especially our first time. Hey," Felicity says, nudging him teasingly, "it wasn't like I was complaining. At all. Especially because I came first."

"You always come first, Felicity," he says without skipping a beat.

She smiles, then - it's impossible not to. "I love you too, Oliver Queen."

Later, when he divests himself of what clothing he still has on and her legs are wrapped around his waist and her nails dig into his back and he's telling her how beautiful she is as he kisses her neck - she wonders how she went so long without him.