They don't head home to Star City after the battle. Not straight away, at least. Instead, Felicity insists on sticking around for a few hours to help Team Flash with the aftermath of the Nazi invasion. Oliver can't deny her the request, not when he can see the heartbreak etched into her face when she steps off the Waverider and sees the devastation the invasion had caused. So they stay.

Barry - as the Flash - zips around the battleground, doing the best he can to clean up the debris from the fight.

Oliver helps coordinate the emergency services, exerting his influence as the mayor of Star City to expedite the process of getting the injured civilians the right care they need. It's exhausting and entirely not how he wanted to spend the evening, but Felicity was determined to help and for her...well.

He glances up, finds her chatting with a paramedic, tapping furiously away at the tablet in her hand. The sleeves of her jacket are rolled up to her elbows, mottled with specks of blood and grime. Her hair is dishevelled, tied into a loose ponytail unlike the ones he's used to seeing on her.

For her, he'd do anything.

As though she can sense his gaze, she turns to him and a smile blooms across her face. His heart soars.

Felicity makes her way to him, carefully stepping over the rubble and mayhem. "You're supposed to be helping," she admonishes, but her words have no bite to them. "Not staring."

He reaches out for her hand, entwines their fingers together - he can't stop touching her - and pulls her closer.

"I am. Helping, I mean. I promise. Star City's sending additional personnel to help with all of this," he responds. "And I called Lyla to see if ARGUS can deal with the...bodies." He grimaces, unsure of what to call them. "They're sending a team here tonight. Easier to operate in the shadows, apparently."

"Well, aren't you just the hero," Felicity murmurs. She rises up into him on her tiptoes and kisses him, sweetly and gently. He feels her hand against his cheek, stroking his day old stubble. He leans into her touch and sighs as she pulls away with a breathy groan.

"Can we go home yet?" he asks, not even concerned that he sounds completely and utterly desperate. "They have more metahumans in this city than I've ever seen in my life helping out. Between all of them I'm sure the city will get back on its feet."

His girlfriend - ex-fiance - partner - whatever she is - they really should have another talk - merely rolls her eyes at him.

"I don't know why you think I'm getting on that death machine murdercycle of yours tonight after everything that's happened today. Because I'm not. I'm so sore, so sore , and my thighs cannot possibly hold on to... oh." She falters at his knowing smirk and smacks him lightly across his chest. "Anyway, we're not going home tonight," she reiterates.

Oliver nods, pulling her into a hug. She smells of ash and sweat and yet, inexplicably still Felicity and he loves her so much that he can't bring himself to be upset at her refusal to leave. He squeezes his arms around her and feels her relax into his embrace.

"We can stay," he says into her hair. He dusts a light kiss over her brow as she untangles herself from him.

As she steps away from him, he notices her eyes are a little less bright, shuttered, and she's looking at him strangely. "Felicity?"

"If... since we're staying," she starts, and then she turns to cast a sidelong glance at the Waverider hovering overhead in the distance. "Can we also stay for the funeral? Stein's, I mean. He, um... I just wanna..."

His heart breaks for her, understanding what she couldn't put in words.

He feels the rage bubbling beneath deep in his soul at what the Earth X invaders had done. The memory rushes back to him at once; arriving back at the Waverider to find Felicity between the Dark Arrow and Kara, fiercely standing her ground, staring down the pointy end of an arrow with the courage of a million heroes. Willing to give her life to defend her heritage, her world, her friend.

He can't even begin to imagine the emotional ramifications of her having to confront him , to stand up against that kind of evil and the effect that would have had on her - and on Stein too - Oliver balls his fists and -

"Hey, hey, calm down," Felicity's voice breaks through his haze of anger. Her fingers curl over his left fist, gently prying it open. Her eyes are so blue behind her glasses, peering at him in earnest. Pleading. "He's dead, you killed him, he's gone. Bye bye evil Nazi. All the Nazis."

He knows she's putting on a brave front for him even though her speech doesn't waver. He remembers vividly the utter terror in her face when they finally reunited, remembers feeling her racing heart when he held her tight, proclaiming that all he wanted was to be with her, marriage be damned.

He can't meet her eyes when he responds, afraid he'll crack and propose to her all over again because he truly, honestly just wants to spend the rest of his life with her. Instead, he looks down at their joined hands, marveling (again) at how much smaller hers are compared to his.

"I hate that you had to see him. Me. My face. Everything he stood for makes me so angry. Pointing an arrow at you. I hate that-"

She cuts him off with another kiss, urgent and desperate, a hard press of her lips against his still-open mouth.

Her hands cup his face, keeps him still long enough for him to let the tension drain from his body and when she pulls away, he feels more centered. Grounded.

Someone clears their throat from behind them and he turns, his body shielding Felicity's instinctively. He lets out a breath of relief when he sees Quentin Lance standing before him, leading a group of about twenty police officers from Star City.

"Calvary's here, Mr. Mayor. How can we help? "

It's almost two in the morning when they both stumble into their hotel room. Joe had offered to let them stay at his house again, but they'd declined, not wanting to relive the miserable memories of the last time they spent the night there.

"I'm so tired," Felicity groans, kicking off her shoes and collapsing onto the bed in the middle of the room. Her entire body aches and she feels like she's about to sleep for a hundred days straight. "Remind me again why we offered to help Barry?"

Oliver chuckles as he climbs onto the bed with her. He leans back against the headboard and lifts her head so she's resting it on his thighs. "Firstly,you offered - I was ready to go home - and secondly, because you're a good person. The best person I know."

She sighs. Sweet man. Her sweet man. His fingers are carding through her hair, massaging her scalp the way he knows she likes it. She gets up, dislodging his hand from her hair. It takes a bit of scrambling and rearranging, but she ends up straddling him, knees tucked into the side of his hips as she sits on his lap. "Thanks for indulging me tonight,"

"I'll do anything for you, Felicity. You know that."

Her heart skips a beat, even though she knows it's the truth. She doesn't think she'll ever get used to it no matter how many times he repeats it. She's learning though. Growing - maybe that's a better word, she thinks. Because she's growing with him, isn't she? They're maturing; letting his - no, thei r - love blossom unfettered, moving past the secrets and the lies and all the hurt they'd unintentionally caused one another.

She leans in to kiss his cheek. "Me too."

He raises an eyebrow at her in question.

"I mean, me too, I'll do anything for you."

Oliver stiffens at her words and she can see the muscles in his jaw tensing, like he's trying very hard not to say something he'll regret.

She waits him out, lets him choose his words. Because they're growing, aren't they? She won't shut down and won't jump to conclusions and she'll trust him to tell her what's on his mind.

He places his hand on her thigh, squeezes it once. "Anything except marry me," he finally says but he doesn't sound upset - there's a crinkle in the corners of his eyes and he's smirking at her because he wants her to think he's completely okay with it.

Felicity narrows her eyes at him because she knows him. He's like a dog with a bone, and he definitely isn't past it if the way he's holding on to her is any indication.

They talked about this. Well, she talked, but he'd listened. Or so she thought. She opens her mouth to tell him again, but he moves forward to kiss her instead. His hand dives back into her hair, scratching lightly as he works her over, his tongue stroking languidly against hers.

Then he pulls back, clears his throat and shakes his head. "I know what you said, and I heard you. And I respect your choice. I just. I just want you to know that if you change your mind, ever, in two hours, or two days or two years - I'll be here. Ready to marry you. Just... know that."

His eyes are so bright, reflecting nothing but pure honesty and wow, sometimes she forgets just how intensely the man can love and she has to avert her gaze. It scares her. A lot. They'd lost themselves in each other the first time they got together, allowed the raw, unbridled emotions to dictate their every move and look how they crashed and burned.

She just wants to be more cautious now. Careful. Is that so wrong?

"Hey, don't get worked up about it," Oliver says, interrupting her thoughts. He uses his index finger to tip her chin up so he can look her in her eyes. "I love you. No matter what. Nothing can change that."

She smiles, tired but relieved. Because she really didn't think she was capable of another mini-argument right at that moment. She pushes herself off of him and lies down, noting that he follows her immediately, one arm banding around her waist as he pulls her into his solid body.

She slips one leg between his and laces her fingers through his, ensuring they're properly entangled together. "Love you too, Oliver," she whispers before allowing herself to drift into welcome darkness of slumber.

Felicity wakes with a start, her heart racing, her shirt damp with sweat. Her hands are balled into fists, twisting the thin bedsheet between her fingers.

She doesn't know why, but she's terrified, panicked and - oh. Nightmare. She'd had a nightmare.

Oliver stuck in Earth X with no way of coming home to her.

Oliver dead, shot through the heart by Nazi Oliver, motionless in a pool of his own blood.

Nazi Oliver rising over her, gun pointed straight at her head, a twisted grin on his face as he pulls the trigger.

She shudders. Shakes her head to remove the images from her mind's eye. She's here , with her Oliver. Safe . His arm is slung low over her hips, and she can feel him breathing against her neck, very much alive. God, she loves him so much.

Terror is still coursing through her veins though. It might have just been a nightmare, but the fear of losing him so very real - so tangible she thinks maybe she can taste the bitter sorrow on her tongue.

She turns to him and drinks him in. He looks content, his face devoid of worry lines, his beard thicker than usual. Handsome. She traces her finger down his face, along the sharp angle of his jawline. He's hers . For some unfathomable reason, this handsome, ridiculously brave hero of a man decided that he wants to be with her for the rest of his life.

Wants to marry her.

Again.

And suddenly, in the dim twilight of the night, with the reminder that she could have absolutely lost him at any point in the last few days so fresh in her mind...

That doesn't seem like such a terrible idea anymore.

END