imagine this

The moment stretched out as you waited for the door to open. You wouldn’t tell Derek, he was a ball of tension already, but you had some worries. You weren’t a psychopath- a lot could go wrong and any sane person would be concerned, but you meant what you’d said. Confidence, real or imagined, did wonders. 

You had been expecting his mom or dad, but it was Cora who opened the door. 

Cora had visited Beacon Hills sometime during the summer and you had met when she’d arrived at a movie night. You couldn’t say you knew each other well, but she’d appreciated your knack for driving Stiles nuts. 

Rather than welcome you both in she leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Derek. The oversized zip-up she wore over a sports bra was very in keeping with what you knew of her. 

“Your girlfriend is Y/N?” She asked. It was difficult to say if she was skeptical or just giving Derek a hard time.

Derek sighed hard. “Clearly.” 

Cora narrowed her eyes, seconds ticking by, then shrugged. “That tracks. Come on in.” Derek glared holes into her back as she led the way while you tried not to laugh. 

“Dad!” She shouted through the house. “Derek’s here! And he actually brought someone.” 

You felt Derek huff beside you. “No, Cora, don’t worry. I didn’t want an actual greeting or anything. Just suspicion.” 

She grinned at him over her shoulder, ignoring his sarcasm. “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You couldn’t help but snort at Derek’s unimpressed look. Sibling irritation had relaxed him though and he moved your hand from his arm to hold in his own (warm, calloused, distracting) as you followed Cora into what you presumed was the kitchen. 

There, cutting carrots at the kitchen island, was Alexander Hale. Derek had shown you pictures of his parents during your prep meetings, but you could have picked his dad out of a lineup without any help. 

It was like looking into the future. His dad’s hair had begun greying on the sides of his head and he wore black-rimmed glasses, but you could picture Derek in a couple of decades looking just like him. Derek was broader, perhaps, but you had to wonder if he’d inherited anything from his mother. 

Dr. Hale (you were sure to remind yourself of his doctoral degree in Gender Studies) smiled wide at the sight of you both. He set his knife down and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before rounding the island to embrace his son. “Derek! Happy Thanksgiving. How was traffic? Not too bad I hope. And this must be the girlfriend Laura told us about.”

He didn’t give Derek a chance to answer before focusing on you. 

“Y/N.” You said, holding a hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hale.”

His handshake was warm and firm, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Oh, just Al is fine. None of the doctor stuff. I’m glad Derek brought you along. He can be so private sometimes. Gets it from his mother.”

Derek groaned. “Dad. Come on.”

Al was unperturbed. “The turkey is already in the oven.” He said to you. “I’m just working on some stuffing and a few things to pick at-” He stopped himself short. “Wait. Do you like turkey? We didn’t make a ham. But, we can have Laura pick something up on her way in.”

Before you could reassure him that you loved turkey Cora spoke up. 

She’d moved to lean on the counter by the cutting board and held a baby carrot in her hand. “Do you know if she even eats meat?” She took a loud bite of the carrot, reveling in her dad’s reaction. 

Al looked horrified. “Oh my god, I didn’t ask if you were vegan or vegetarian.” You could see him trying to think back to everything he was cooking for the night. 

“I eat meat.” You were quick to assure. “And I love turkey. I promise. I love Thanksgiving food.”

Though he sighed in relief the look of worry hadn’t faded from his face. “Are you sure? We can set something up.”

You could see Derek shake his head as he moved to take the wine bottle from you. “Cora’s just messing with you, dad. I would have told you if she was a vegetarian.” 

Satisfied Al returned to his post as the cutting board. “Well, just let us know if you don’t like something, alright.” 

“Don’t worry. I’m not shy about speaking my mind.” You said. 

Derek nodded his confirmation before crossing the kitchen to retrieve a couple of glasses. “Water?” When you nodded he began filling the glasses, remembering you didn’t like ice in yours. “Where’s mom?” He asked. “Is Laura not in town yet?”

“Your mom is taking a call upstairs,” Al said, focusing on his chopping while Cora continued to eat stray carrots. “Laura is in town, they just arrived, but they checked into a hotel. Said it would be easier for the night.”

You’d never met Derek’s older sister though she’d visited Beacon Hills earlier in the year. You did know she was married to a Noah with a three-year-old girl named Alina and a baby boy on the way. She’d been the one Derek first lied to.

“What about Malia?” His dad asked. “I know she said they were doing a Thanksgiving brunch with Kira’s family before driving out.” 

Derek nodded. “Yeah. They should be here in an hour or two.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “Is Peter coming?”

His dad shook his head. 

You knew Peter was Malia’s biological father and Derek’s maternal uncle and the relationship there was strained on all ends, but Malia had been working on it. A thought struck you, but you’d address it later. 

“Why don’t you go get settled in.” Al said. “You guys are going to be in the room at the end of the hall. Malia and Kira are taking Cora’s room and Cora is sleeping in the living room tonight.” 

Cora scowled. “Just because I’m not dating anyone.” She had been living with her parents while she attended the UCSF School of Medicine for sports medicine. You wouldn’t have loved being kicked out of your room either.

“I know, but it just makes sense, honey. It’s just one night.” 

“I’m bringing a girlfriend next year.” She muttered to herself.

Derek mussed up her hair before gesturing for you to lead the way out of the kitchen. 

Your bags, small as they were, had been left in the car and you watched as he grabbed them both, shaking his head when you offered to carry your own. The sun was high in the sky, but it was still chilly out and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he dug through the car to make sure nothing was left behind. 

“Hey, I have a question.” 

Derek gave you a curious look. “Yeah?”

“Peter is your mother’s brother, right?” 

Derek nodded and something in his expression made you think he already knew where this was going. “You’re wondering why everyone is a Hale?”

“Yes.” 

He smiled. “Dad took mom’s name when they got married. He does lectures all the time on how weird it is that surnames are patrilineal and when the time came for them to get married he said he had to put his money where his mouth was.” He’d clearly explained this multiple times in the past. 

You grinned. “I kind of love your dad. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, try not to get caught in one of his lectures.”

~*~*~*~

The room you’d be sharing for the night was a nice, simple guest room with a full bed and mostly neutral decor. While you peered out the window to see the view Derek stared intently at the bed. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” He said, making you turn. 

“Derek, what are the chances that Cora barges in here tomorrow morning? Or your niece?” 

He winced. 

“Yeah. it would probably look pretty weird if you were sleeping on the floor. I’m a whole grown-up,” you said, “I can share a bed with a man. Unless you don’t want to.”

Derek shook his head but said nothing. 

You moved to look in the mirror hung on the wall and check your hair after the drive. You could see Derek watching you in the mirror. 

“Does anything ever bother you?” He asked, sitting on the bed. 

You furrowed your brow. “Lots of things bother me. Sharing a bed with you isn’t one of them.” You could just make out the pink tingeing his ears in the reflection. “And having to spend Thanksgiving with a family that seems pretty cool also doesn’t bother me.”

Derek watched you a moment longer. “Have I said thank you yet?” 

“You might have. But it’s not a big deal. I’m having fun.” You turned to lean against the vanity and watch him. “It’s not particularly difficult to pretend to be your girlfriend.” 

You expected him to blush at least a little, but he just watched you. You turned and gestured for him to follow you. “Come on. I still have to meet your mom.”

It was easy to chalk any nerves up to meeting Derek’s mom. Talia Hale was highly regarded and it wasn’t difficult to see why. As far as you knew she’d left a long career as a successful business attorney to pursue her original dream of working for the ACLU, hence the move to San Francisco. She remained a figure in a number of charities and organizations in Beacon Hills even from a distance and Derek always seemed in awe when he spoke of her. 

So, the idea of her was intimidating. 

“Pet names?”

“Yeah. You know- honey, babe, snookums?” There was no way in hell you would ever seriously call Derek snookums, but if calling him things like Sugar Butt or Honey Bunches made his ears turn that pretty shade of pink you would have some fun with it. “If we’re going to use any kind of nickname we want to get in the habit so it sounds normal and not weird.” 

You angled yourself toward him, dropping the pretense of reading the same five lines on your notebook. 

He furrowed his brow, looking deep in thought. “I don’t know. Jennifer hated pet names.”

Jennifer. Hated enough that even sweet Kira had ranted and raved for weeks after she dumped Derek. If this was going to work, you thought, he could not talk about her. 

“Okay. New rule number one. If you want your family to believe you are over your heinous ex, it’s best not to mention her.” You said. “As far as you’re concerned any mention of Jennifer should prompt a ‘Jennifer who?’ in your mind. New girlfriends don’t like the mention of old girlfriends.”

He winced. “You’re right.”

“Also, screw whatever Jennifer liked or didn’t like. I’m asking 

Derek Hale, what you’re comfortable with.”

For a moment he said nothing, then nodded resolutely. There was the slightest loosening of his shoulders and you smiled to yourself. 

“You can call me whatever. Except snookums.” He added in a rush. 

You snorted. 

“I don’t know what I’ll call you though. It might just be Y/N.” 

“That’s fine. Go with whatever feels normal. I’m probably going to call you babe. Or Derek. Or D- you can blame Stiles for that one. Who knows.” You shrugged. Without thinking about it, you wrote ‘babe’ onto a separate line of the notebook. 

“Are you really taking notes?” The car slowed as you pulled up to a light and Derek took the opportunity to look over at the little blue and gold journal you’d been fiddling with for most of the car ride. 

“Not quite,” you said, unsure how to properly explain it, “I’m never going to review the notes or study them. But, jotting things down just helps me organize my thoughts and remember things. We’re planning a classic fake dating holiday shenanigan here- you want me on my A-game.”

“I can’t believe you even agreed to this.” He muttered as he started driving again. 

Malia and Kira had not been surprised at all when you’d told them. Kira had spit out her apple cider when you barged into the coffee shop you’d planned to meet them at and declared that you were now dating Malia’s cousin (Kira never failed to give you a good reaction), but after hearing the rest there had only been knowing nods. 

When you’d moved to Beacon Hills Derek had been almost a year into the ill-fated relationship with Jennifer. You’d been introduced to both of them at the same time by Stiles and Jennifer had seemed like a perfectly friendly person, but the face Stiles made when they turned their backs had been plenty indication that she was not the most well-loved. 

You never spent any time with Jennifer directly. As you began to fold more and more into the close circle of friends you noted that she never went to movie night and she never joined the girls for sushi. Lydia had insisted that they’d tried to be nice and include her in the beginning, but that hadn’t lasted long.

“There was pretty much zero chance I would turn this down.” 

The truth was Derek was a babe and so much your type it was almost painful, but you’d always assumed he didn’t like you very much. When he’d asked you to fake date him you’d figured either he didn’t dislike you as much as you’d thought or he was really desperate. Either way, you couldn’t say no.

“Because you’re a little crazy?” 

You flicked his arm with your pen. “Never mind, rule number one is don’t ever call your girlfriend crazy. Don’t call any woman crazy just to be safe.” You said.

“Noted.” He looked like he was trying not to smile and that was reassuring. “But, really, why would you say yes to a Thanksgiving pretending you’re my girlfriend in front of mostly strangers?” 

You shrugged. “How often does an opportunity like that come up?” He didn’t need to know that you wanted to become friends and that it wasn’t hard to pretend to be head over heels for him. “Besides, you looked really desperate. Who was your next option? Stiles in a dress?”

The image flashed in your head the moment you said it. 

“I should have said no. That would have been hilarious.”

“If you’d said no I would have had to fake some terrible accident.” 

You snorted. “And they say I’m dramatic.” You tapped your pen to the paper and wracked your brain for anything you might have missed. “Okay, let’s walk through it.” You said as you turned in the car seat to face him.

“Kira and Malia will arrive tomorrow morning, and they are prepared with our basic story. Which is as simple as possible. The more detail you give unprompted, the easier it is to spot a lie. I got to town, thought you were way hot,” Derek flushed and you added another mark to your mental tally, “but you were with Jennifer. You guys broke up, you got over it, we were hanging out with everyone else, you realized I am also way hot, we got together. Simple.” 

Derek, blush slowly fading, nodded again. “And if they ask for details we tell them about running into each other a couple of times on our own. At the pizza place first. Then the coffee shop the next time. And talked.” He said it like he was still trying to memorize every detail.

“I kissed you first. And tada, we’ve been together since then.” 

You’d kept it all simple and common on purpose. No one questioned such an every-day story. Both of Derek’s sisters had been to Beacon Hills to visit him since you’d moved to town so there were restrictions to keep in mind as well. 

A thought struck you. “Hey, pull over into the next gas station.”

Derek glanced at you quickly. “You need something?” He asked, already flicking the turn signal on. 

“Park to the side.” You said, then waited until he’d pulled all the way into a parking spot to unbuckle your seatbelt. You looked at him very seriously. 

The crease in his brow deepened. “Is everything okay?” Hesitantly he turned his body to face you. 

“We need to kiss.” 

“What?” Forget his ears and neck, you were sure Derek was red to the tips of his toes. He gaped at you and looked around the car once as though some invisible passenger had more information. 

“Relax. Breathe.” You had discussed physical contact days ago. He knew to expect casual touching from you and cheek kisses were a given. He knew that there was a chance you’d have to kiss-kiss because, as you’d said, ‘assuming we won’t is a surefire way to have a kiss demanded’. “I’m not talking making out, heavy tongue action, getting steamy in the 7-11 parking lot.”

He ran a hand over his face. 

“But, chances are the occasion for us to kiss will come up. I don’t know about you but I don’t typically make out in front of my mom, but kissing on the lips seems pretty standard.” When he nodded you went on. “So we should probably not have the first time we kiss be at that awkward moment. No one will believe us if we can’t even find each other’s lips.” 

Derek leaned his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. “You’re right.” He said. 

“I know. I usually am.” 

He rolled his eyes but it seemed like the casual arrogance was doing something to relax him. He sat up straight and turned to you again. “Let’s do this then.”

You adjusted in the seat, folding a leg under you and leaning forward. You expected Derek to be hesitant like he’d been about every other step of the way, but he seemed resolute when he reached forward to wrap his hand around the base of your skull and pull you in.

The kiss was chaste- nothing but a warm press of his lips to yours, but the heat of his hand against your neck was extremely distracting. 

You pulled back first, schooling your expression into something you hoped read amused and not like you wanted to give that another shot. 

Derek quickly sat back into his seat. His face gave nothing away, but you thought you could see pink crawling up his neck.

The place where his hand had been only a moment ago now felt cold. Unconsciously your hand moved to cover the spot while you leaned back in your seat and buckled up. “There.” You said. Your voice was steady and casual. “Now that that’s done, we can keep going.”

Derek cleared his throat and glanced your way before he buckled his seatbelt and pulled out of the parking spot. 

There was a tension in the car that you hadn’t felt before the practice kiss. It could not be allowed to continue. 

You reached down to pick your notebook back up. You clicked the pen open and tapped it against your bottom lip. “So, let’s be honest, which of your sisters is going to want to embarass you most?”

Scott snorted to himself. 

Stiles was not deterred. “What we need to do is just find you a date. Erica would probably be down to go.” He said. 

Derek sighed, deep and dramatic. “Laura knows Erica is dating Boyd. Just like she knows Allison is with Scott, and Lydia is with Jordan. Malia is obviously bringing Kira to Thanksgiving. She knows all of you.” He’d already given this a great deal of thought. 

And he was screwed.

“Melissa?” 

“Hey!” Scott shot a betrayed look at Stiles. “Leave my mom out of this.” 

Stiles flailed, his arms flapping in Derek’s general direction. “I am just trying to help the sad-sack!”

“Hey!” 

Derek grabbed the nearest pillow from Stiles’s bed and chucked it at him. Years of bench-warming on the lacrosse team had not served Stiles well and the pillow hit him full force in the face, sending him tumbling backward into his desk. 

When he’d regained his balance he threw the pillow back at Derek who caught it without a problem and set it back on the bed looking not a little smug. 

Stiles didn’t seem to notice or care for Derek’s obvious physical superiority because he was snapping his fingers rapidly. Both Derek and Scott recognized what the gesture meant- there was a thought trying to make its way out.

“I’ve got it!” He said. There was a mildly manic look in his eyes. “I know the perfect person for the job. She loves these kind of shenanigans. I bet she’s a good liar, she looks like she’d be a good liar. But I don’t know if she’ll have the days off. That could be a problem.”

With every second Stiles kept arguing with himself rather than name the person he was talking about Derek could feel his tolerance slipping. He gave him an annoyed impatient look, but Stiles was too far gone in his own head to even notice. 

Scott, who had been trying so hard not to look too amused, bit his lip to keep from laughing at Derek’s frustration. 

“Stiles,” Derek said in a warning tone, “if you don’t just spit it out-”

“Y/N!” 

“Yes?”

The three of them jumped at the voice from the door. 

And there was Y/N herself. She looked like she’d been there a while, enough time at least to make herself comfortable against the door frame, a men’s dress shirt on a hanger looped casually in her hands. If she wasn’t amused before she’d scared them, she certainly was now. 

“What are you doing in my house?” Stiles squawked. “How did you get in?”

She rolled her eyes and stood up straight to dig in through the leather backpack slung on her shoulder, finding and jingling a key ring at them. “I had to pick up a shirt for your dad’s hot date tonight.” The waggle of her eyebrows was 100% intentional and successful if Stiles’s quiet “yuck” was anything to go by. “He gave me a key months ago.” 

“Of course he did.” Stiles didn’t even sound surprised. 

When Y/N had moved to Beacon Hills a little under a year ago she’d known no one in town and had described the move as an impulse brought on by a typo on a job search site. She’d been looking for jobs in Sacramento, but the zip code she’d entered was just one digit off. Instead, she’d been shown jobs in Beacon Hills, but most especially had been a listing for a Receptionist/Admin Assistant at the Sheriff’s department. 

Sheriff Stilinski had interviewed her and Kira had helped her find an apartment upon the Sheriff’s recommendation, but when she moved to town they were the only two people she knew. 

It hadn’t taken her long to settle in. Through work she’d become fast friends with Jordan and Boyd, which led to meeting Lydia and Erica. Through Kira she’d met Malia and then Allison and rounding back to Lydia.

Which was when Derek had met her. 

He’d been dating Jennifer at the time and there’d been a part of him that was concerned when he spotted the girls plus one Y/N having dinner at the local diner and he realized they had never in the past invited Jennifer to do so. In retrospect it was obvious they saw something in Jennifer that he hadn’t and they’d been right to exclude her. 

Jennifer hadn’t been too fond of her.

Derek had never spent much time with Y/N though, and it was always in the company of their other friends, but he considered her a friend- or friend adjacent. He enjoyed the way she messed with Stiles most of all. 

“It’s not my fault I’m your dad’s favorite person.” Y/N said, a teasing smile on her face. It was no secret that torturing Stiles was one of her top favorite things to do. 

But, however much teasing she had planned was not going to stop Stiles. He had a determined look in his eyes that usually spelled trouble for Derek and Scott. The look Scott sent Derek told him he’d had the same thought.

“You should date Derek.” Stiles said without preamble. 

Derek couldn’t recall ever having seen Y/N look so surprised. She turned away from Stiles to look at him and he could feel his ears start to turn pink. He was going to kill Stiles.

Her eyebrows were still high on her forehead when the look became less shock and more amusement.  

“I think if I’m going to go out with Derek he’s going to have to ask me himself.” She said like they were discussing the weather and not Stiles pimping him out. Or pimping her out. Derek wasn’t sure which.

“It’s not like that.” Derek rushed out. 

“So you don’t want to go out with me?”

Derek was going to kill Stiles. 

“Just for Thanksgiving.” Stiles said.

Y/N had a wicked gleam in her eye. It made Derek shift in his seat. 

“You want me to go out with Derek just on Thanksgiving,” she said, slow and deliberate, “and it’s ‘not like that’.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “So you want me to fake date you for, I assume, family reasons?”

It should have worried Derek that she’d put it together as quickly and gleefully as she had. The burning pink of his ears and neck should have worried him. Every part of this half-baked plan should have sent him spiraling into a panic. 

He gulped and nodded. “Yes. Please.”

The seconds before she spoke again seemed to stretch and stretch. She was watching him intently. 

At last she shrugged. “I can do that.” She said. “I have to get back to the station, but I’ll text you so we can plan. We have a lot to do in the next week.”

And just like that she flashed them a peace sign and left the doorway, calling a bye behind her. 

“I can’t believe that just worked.” Scott said.

Coffee was exactly what he needed after being out in the bitter cold of New York in December. It never got this cold in DC, he thought. He took another sip while he watched the back of her head bob over the shelf and smiled.

She was humming along to the Christmas song playing quietly over the store radio, standing on the top step of a little step ladder so she could reach all the way over to the screws keeping the sign in place, and she didn’t notice him as he approached. 

“I would have thought you’d be sick of this music by now.”

She gave a little start on the stool and on instinct he held an arm out to steady her if she needed it, but she never wavered. Her smile nearly knocked him right out.

“Sam!” She said, looking genuinely pleased to see him. “Did you finish the book already?”

To be honest, Sam had come to the store two months ago to get a book specifically to annoy Bucky. He hadn’t expected that the prettiest girl he’d ever seen would ask him if he needed any help and then make pleasant conversation while they looked for the specific book. He hadn’t fully planned on coming back two days later either- he’d just been in the neighborhood.

He had gone out of his way to come back eight more times after that. 

Sam hadn’t done a lot of recreational reading in the past few years, but he took her every suggestion and devoured it, eager to come back and tell her about it. 

His last visit had only been two days ago and he’d spent the majority of those days in Italy. 

“Um, no. Not yet.” He smiled up at her. “I just stopped in to see if I could knock a few Christmas gifts off my list.”

If not for her he probably wouldn’t have thought to get books for anyone. 

Her smile grew somehow. “Do you have any in mind?” The sign forgotten, she climbed the two steps back onto ground level and he was once again looking down at her instead of the other way around. The smile didn’t waver when he shook his head. 

“Okay. So we’ll go person by person? You said your friend liked art.” 

She’d remembered what he’d said about Steve. Of course she had. She always remembered everything they talked about. 

As they walked to the far corner of the store she asked him additional questions, like she always did, so she could narrow down his search. If only she’d known that she could have picked the first book she found and he still would have bought it. Sam was going to be personally responsible for keeping brick and mortar bookstores in business. 

The whole while they talked an annoying little voice kept telling him to just ask her out. Invite her out for coffee, or dinner, or the rest of his life. He pushed the urge down. He would not be the guy who asked a girl out at her work- he was not going to be a creep.

By the time he’d left the store, Sam had bought at least one book for everyone on his list.

*~*~*~*

Sam groaned. It had snowed every day for the past week and the forecast had said today was going to be their one reprieve. So much for that. 

He tightened his scarf around his neck and pulled his knit cap lower over his ears. It got cold in DC, it snowed too, but he would swear up and down that it was a different kind of cold and so much harsher. 

It only took a moment- a brief glance at the sky to see how long the snow would keep up- for  him to step on a slick patch of ice and go down taking someone with him. 

“Oh!” 

He recognized the voice from just the exclamation, but he still felt surprised when he pushed up on his elbows and looked down at her shocked expression under him. 

“Y/N?” 

“Sam?”

Her hands were pressed against his chest to keep him supported, her bright red coat half knocked off her shoulder, and she blinked up at him in surprise (or maybe a concussion because he’d barrelled into her like a damn rhino). He stayed sprawled over her on that street corner for half a minute before he came to his senses. 

He cursed. “I’m so sorry. Here, I’ve got you.” He scrambled to his feet, careful to keep away from the same icy patch that felled him last time. With just one tug on her outstretched arm he pulled her to her feet. 

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her when her own foot slipped on the ice and she gave a little jerk. “You alright?”

When she nodded Sam pulled back, hoping his hesitation wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

After pulling her coat back up over her shoulder and adjusting her purse strap she reached up to touch the back of her head. 

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention- didn’t mean to tackle you.” He leaned to look at the spot she was tending to. 

“Well, I certainly hope not. I can’t imagine what I’ve recommended to earn a tackle.” Even as she rubbed the spot back and forth she smiled at him. 

“How bad is it?” He asked when he could see nothing more than her gloved hand in her hair. 

She shrugged. “I think I’ll live. But, if I do die, then I guess I can say I was taken out by an Avenger.” Her smile was impish.

He was a little surprised. She had never mentioned or done anything to imply that she knew who he was, but then he guessed that might have been because she was trying to do her job and keep things about books. 

She dusted the snow off the back of her coat and pants, then reached over to his shoulder to do the same. Her hair was flecked with bits of snow and she had a little amused smile while she joked about the ice. 

“Go out with me!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself and he grimaced when she gave a little jump at his volume. “I mean-” he ran a gloved hand down his face, “I mean, would you like to go out with me? Get a coffee or lunch or-”

“Yes.” 

Sam stared. He hadn’t actually expected her to say yes. “What?”

“Yes. We should have lunch, do something.” She faltered. “You did just ask me out, right?”

“Yes. Yes.” He nodded, enthusiastically. 

The smile was back, brilliant and blinding and hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Would you want to go now? Get out of the snow?”

The snow had, in fact, started falling harder, quickly blanketing the ground around them and settling back on their shoulders. Sam hadn’t even felt it. 

“Yeah. Let’s go get lunch.” He said. He straightened his shoulders and gathered himself properly. He’d been waiting for this chance, he wasn’t going to blow it. He held out his arm and she linked hers through it before stepping close to his side. 

It might as well have been July for as much as he felt the cold. 

“You know,” she said as they started down the street, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out for like a month.”

He squawked. “I was trying not to be a creep!”

You blinked, peering over the back of the couch to see Oliver in full costume stepping into the apartment. 

It only took him a moment’s observation to realize you’d been sleeping because he immediately apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s late. We got… held up.” The voice modulator had been turned off before he’d stepped in and the voice that came out was all Oliver Queen.

You shook your head. “It’s okay. Is everyone alright?” You asked as you scooted up into a sitting position, sweeping the blankets off the couch cushion so he could sit. 

The sudden wake up had wiped the worry of potentially kissing him for the moment. Perhaps the portion of your brain that controlled anxiety hadn’t yet caught up with the rest of your mind, but all you could focus on was the roll of his shoulders when he sat beside you and leaned back.

His hood came off first, then the mask, and soon he was just all Oliver again. “Everyone’s alright, just took a while.” He said. 

Your knee pressed against his thigh when you adjusted to sit cross-legged on the couch, but neither of you moved. His hand fell into his lap, smoothing the fabric of his pants, and settled next to your knee. You tried not to look at it. 

“I should have just texted you and let you sleep.” He said with a small smile. “I’m destroying your sleep schedule.”

You waved a hand as if brushing the idea away. “Sleep schedule schleep schmedule.“ His lip quirked. “I would have been worried if you hadn’t come.” 

“Well, we can’t have that.”

You tried not to smile. “No, we can’t. So you just have to be extra careful and check in often so I don’t start going gray.”

His look was equal parts amused and serious when he nodded. “I can do that.”

You hadn’t meant to look down at his lips, but the smile he was trying to keep under control was so distracting. And just like that, the events of last night came rushing to the forefront of your mind.

Before you could stop yourself the words were spilling out. “Were you going to kiss me last night?”

As soon as you’d spoken your eyes went wide and you could feel the heat of a flush rushing to your face. If the cushions of your couch could have opened up beneath you and swallowed you whole right then and there you would have thanked it. 

He looked as surprised at your outburst as you felt.

How could you take this back? How could you grab those words out of the air and shove them back in your big dumb mouth?

Surely he knew some meta from Central City who could travel back in time and stop you before your brain decided to just give up on you and betray you in such a heinous manner. 

“Yes.”

The look of panic on your face morphed to sheer dumbfoundedness. “What.”

You’d meant it as a question, but the inflection just wasn’t there. Your brain wasn’t processing right, you were sure of that. 

Oliver licked his lips (if your eyes immediately focused on them that was totally out of your control) and shifted, just slightly, to face you more directly. “I was going to kiss you last night. Before we were called away.”

“Oh.” Your voice came out higher pitched than you meant it to.

A beat passed. The warm, fluttery feeling in your stomach didn’t seem to be going anywhere and you were sure it was stopping your brain from working how it was supposed to. 

“Is that alright?”

Oliver- vigilante by night mayor by day Oliver Queen looked almost nervous. 

It snapped you out of your daze. “Yes!” Too eager, too eager. You closed your eyes and tried not to embarrass yourself any further. After a breath, you looked at him again, heart thundering in your ears at the smile on his face. “Yes. Yeah. It’s okay. Totally okay.”

Oliver ducked his head for just a moment and you knew he was trying to hide his smile, but it was too late. It was burned into your brain. 

The hand on his thigh reached out for yours, the gloves warm against your skin. His voice was low, almost a whisper when he spoke. “Come here.”

Oliver met you halfway as you leaned forward to kneel beside him. You were sure he could feel your pulse jumping wildly in your neck when his fingers threaded through your hair. 

He was only a breath away and you realized he was waiting for you, giving you the chance to change your mind. You closed the distance. 

His lips were softer than you’d imagined. For a moment the kiss was nothing more than a gentle press, then his mouth slanted over yours and you were lost. Oliver’s free hand moved to your waist, pulling you close, and you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck. 

When you ran your fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck he smiled against your lips.

It was Oliver who pulled away. Your lips trailed after his and the smile on his face when you opened your eyes left you feeling light and warm.

Somehow you’d ended up sat on his lap though you were sure you’d been kneeling on the couch only a moment ago. You felt his hand flex at your waist. 

You wanted desperately to kiss him again. So you did. 

He let you pull him close easily for just a few seconds before he pulled back again. 

The look on your face, frustrated as it must have been, seemed to amuse him because he struggled to bite back a smile. When he tugged you back to him it wasn’t for another kiss, but rather to press his forehead against yours. 

Oliver sighed. 

“This isn’t easy.” He said after a moment. 

Your brows knitted together. Perhaps your mind was still kiss-addled, but you had no idea what he meant. “Kissing me isn’t easy?”

The chuckle he gave seemed to catch him by surprise more than you. “No. Kissing you is very easy.” You tried not to smile too wide. “Kissing me is what’s difficult. Being with me is what’s difficult, Y/N.”

Now you understood why he kept pulling back. 

He continued. “There’s always something. There’s always someone who wants me dead. And when I’m not running around at night I’m still the mayor. It’s… a lot. I understand if it’s not-”

Your kiss cut him short. Your hands pressed to his cheeks to keep him steady against you for just a moment. This time you were the one to pull back, his lips chasing after you. 

“I know. I do. I understand. I don’t care.” You needed him to understand this. To know you were going into this with eyes wide open and it didn’t matter. “You’re worth it.”

He swallowed hard and your eyes trailed the bob of his adam’s apple. His mouth moved as though he meant to say something and you shook your head. 

“Please,” you said, “don’t try to talk me out of kissing you. If you don’t want to kiss me that’s one thing.” He looked ready to protest. “But please don’t do the self-sacrifice thing. Please let me make my own decisions.”

His eyes scanned your face- looking for what you didn’t know, but he seemed to find it because he was pulling you in again. 

You held him tight, pressing yourself as close as your positions would allow. A vague part of mind wondered if the flutter in your stomach would ever fade. You had a hard time believing it would when Oliver’s tongue pressed against yours the way it did. 

This time when he pulled back he trailed gentle kisses along your jaw. “I should go.” He muttered between kisses. “Let you sleep.”

“Sleep is for the weak.” You said, moving your head to give him better access. Your fingers raked through his short hair. “I have zero intention of ever sleeping again.”

You felt his laugh rather than hear it. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and laughed to himself.  “What am I going to do with you?” He muttered.

Kisses, you decided, were amazing, but nothing felt better than making him laugh. “I mean, I thought it was pretty clear I wanted you to kiss me.”

He sat there, with that soft Ray smile you loved so much, looking amused and patient. “Nate said you were in here. Makes sense.” He said, motioning to the food. 

He’d kissed you back, you reminded yourself. He’d kissed you back and he’d had that big dopey smile and you were sure he wanted to kiss you again. You hoped, at least. 

Even as you reassured yourself you could feel your body’s natural inclination to flush under his watch and the anxious fluttering in your belly. You tamped it all down. Or tried to and blamed your exhaustion when you failed. 

“I was hungry.” You said after too long a pause. 

He nodded. “Yeah. Not surprised. You did a lot today.” He looked you over as he spoke, his eyes zeroing in on your torso. He leaned toward you and grabbed hold of the strip of fabric that hung where your shirt had been slashed, blood staining the once blue cloth. “Are you alright?”

His fingers grazed the bare skin where you’d been cut and you could feel your body temperature skyrocket. 

You stumbled over your own tongue, the words not coming out as they should. “I- yeah, good. I’m, me, I’m- good. Yeah. I’m good.”

It was so frustrating. You were not an awkward person by nature. You were not in the habit of flailing and stuttering and being a massive dork. You were cool. You were cool, damnit, and Ray Palmer was really messing that up. 

But then the look he gave you was so soft and fond and if he kept looking at you like that you’d be fine with being a big dork like him. 

“Y/N.” He said. “I’m going to kiss you.”

You felt the air knock out of you and found you couldn’t think of a proper response as he leaned up out of his chair and toward you. The hand that had been at your waist came up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your cheekbone lightly. 

He hovered before you, a breath away, waiting, and your mind finally caught up with the world. 

“You should do that.” You said, proud that you didn’t sound as out of breath as you felt. 

And then he did. 

It was nothing like the rushed, relieved kiss on the battlefield. Ray’s kiss was steady, his lips moving over yours with a practiced ease and the feel that he had all the time in the world. 

Your hands moved up to his waist, eager for any extra contact, balling up the soft cotton of his shirt in your fists. You could feel your heart, could feel his heart drumming away at the contact, the sensation doubled by your ability. 

He pulled back slowly to look at you, his eyes flitting over your face. 

You came up out of your seat to meet his lips again. Ray straightened, bringing you both up to a stand, and pulled you flush to him. He smiled against your lips before his mouth slanted over yours and deepened the kiss.

You could absolutely be a massive stumbling dork for the rest of your life if it meant being able to kiss Ray like this. 

He pulled away first, looking out of breath very pleased with himself.

“So, that’s a thing we’re going to do a lot, right?” You asked when you’d taken a few breaths. His hand was still in your hair, his thumb stroking the base of your neck idly.

Ray’s smile widened. “Yeah.” He nodded and dipped down to place another soft kiss on your lips. “We should make it a habit. And not just when I get hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you get hurt like that again I will kill you.” You pinched his side as you spoke, soothing the pain almost as quickly. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Ray protested, but the smile on his face only grew. “But if it’s what it takes to get kissed like that…”

You pinched him again. 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding.” 

You tried to glare at him but there was no heat behind it. And when he bent down to kiss you again you forgot all about it. 

He was smiling when he pulled pack. “You taste like mashed potatoes.” He laughed when you punched him in the chest. “I like it! And you should probably finish eating. You need to regain your strength.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, unable to stop the suggestive look from forming on your face. 

Ray blushed. “I meant, you know, because of everything you did.”

You nodded in the most sarcastic manner you could. “Oh. Of course you did. Totally.” 

“Mostly.” He seemed to recover quickly if the way he was looking at you was any sign.

Oh no. You were perfectly comfortable with teasing him and it was so much fun, but apparently you were no good at taking it. You could feel the blood rushing to your face. Ray’s raised eyebrow was killing you. 

Ray Palmer was not going to keep making you flustered like this. You refused. 

You grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in. “Stop looking at me like that and just kiss me already.”

“Yes m’a-”

He didn’t seem upset to be cut off. Instead he wrapped both arms around your middle and pulled you close. 

This, you could do this forever.

You pulled back to breathe and giggled (actually giggled like some school girl what was he doing to you) when he followed to pepper your face with quick kisses. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, warm and firm, and kissed you again. 

It didn’t matter that you knew better, it felt like you were going to catch fire and it would be all his fault. And so worth it. 

When he pulled back you were both breathing heavy and flushed. 

“I should let you eat.” He said in a whisper.

“Eating is stupid.” 

He snorted, a big Ray smile on his face. “No.” He kissed your forehead. “I’ll let you eat. You need it.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you insist.” You said.

Ray nodded, slowly pulling away. “Eat. Recharge. I’ll be there when you’re done.” He gave your sides a little squeeze before he let go and the temptation to drag him back in for more kisses and say to hell with food almost overwhelmed you. 

You watched him walk backwards out of the galley, a giddy warm feeling flowing through your body, and tried to stop the goofy smile on your face. A very difficult task when Ray was sporting such a wonderful goofy smile himself. 

“So, should I be expecting anyone else at my window anytime soon?” You asked. It did make you feel better, knowing that Oliver had a whole team and support system in place. Technically you’d known from the news and the encounter with Ragman, but meeting them was more reassuring.

He shook his head. “Hopefully not.” He walked closer, leaning his hip against the desk you’d been admiring. “Honestly, it’s bad enough you let me in. Worse that I brought you down here.”

You had wondered at that.

You’d been in the middle of a phone conversation with Jane when he’d knocked on your door. Jane, who had been called over by a coworker to see a picture of Oliver Queen’s new girl only to discover a picture of you and him sitting in a corner table at a restaurant and was very angry at you for not having told her you were dating and didn’t believe that you weren’t.

“Is there a reason you did bring me?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment. “I wanted you to meet everyone. And I figured it was only fair. I’m always at your home.”

“So you thought secret hero hideout instead of your actual house, apartment, whatever.” Although, as you said it you knew why. He had a son at that home.

He shrugged.

“And you work with your ex-fiance? Although I’m glad she knew about all your extracurriculars while you were dating. Because that seems like a really big secret to keep. But I guess it didn’t work out anyway so that sucks. You still work together so it must not be terrible or at least not awkward I hope.”

You couldn’t stop talking. You weren’t sure what it was that had made you so nervous all of a sudden. Maybe the responsibility of now knowing the entirety of Star City’s vigilante crew. Or what it meant that Oliver trusted you with that information. Or an annoying need to know where him and Felicity stood.

Oliver looked amused, which was not uncommon, but there was also something else there. Something you didn’t recognize.

“It’s not that awkward any more, but yeah, secrets were a big problem.”

There was a strange silence between you. Oliver wasn’t chatty by nature, his Green Arrow version less so, but all the time you’d spent in silence on your living room couch hadn’t been awkward. Most often you’d say something in the end or the news would be on in the background to break things up.

You couldn’t think of what to say now. Even though just a moment ago you hadn’t been able to shut up.

There was something in his look. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was- something about the set of his mouth or how dark his eyes suddenly seemed. The flutter in your stomach wouldn’t stop.

You opened your mouth to speak, then stopped.

“What is it?” He asked.

You hesitated. It was just Oliver, you reminded yourself (nevermind that Just Oliver was the mayor and you’d originally met him because he was a vigilante hiding out in your apartment from the police), you could talk to him. Nothing had changed.

“I wanted to thank you.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“For trusting me. For showing me all this.” You gestured around yourself at the costumes (uniforms?) in their cases and the high tech equipment and the weaponry on the walls. “You didn’t have to and you did and it just means a lot.”

Oliver moved from where he’d been leaning against the desk and came to stand in front of you. You found it difficult, suddenly, to look him in the eye.

“Y/N.” That familiar little touch at your elbow made you draw your eyes up at last. When your eyes met he slid his other hand up your arm to rest at your shoulder. “You trusted me first.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“No. don’t do that. I mean it.” His eyes were intensely blue even in the strange lighting of the room. “You helped me when you had no real reason or need to. Trusted me in a way I’m really hoping you don’t do all the time because you’re already far too lax about your home security.”

You snorted, taking the chance to let your eyes drift from his. He never missed a chance to lecture you about that window.

“You trusting me? That meant a lot. It’s easy to trust you.”

Again you went to speak- tell him it was nothing and he could always trust you- but the words dried up in your throat when you focused on him again. As if something had shifted in your mind you could suddenly identify the look on his face.

Oliver Queen was looking at you the way you’d been looking at him for the past few weeks. The way you hoped he hadn’t noticed.

The very air around you felt heavy and you weren’t entirely certain if you were breathing. When had he gotten so close? The hand on your shoulder moved slowly up to cradle the base of your neck, his gloved thumb stroking your cheek just once.

“Y/N.” He said softly.

Something beeped loudly in the room and you jumped back, crashing hard against the desk behind you.

Oliver closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before cocking his head just so. Someone was speaking through his earpiece, you realized. He nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

Your heart was pounding, either from what maybe had just been interrupted or the beep or both, and you swallowed roughly trying to bring any moisture back to your mouth.

“I’m sorry.” He said. And god did he look it. “We have an issue.”

You nodded hurriedly. “Of course. Yeah. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Can you get back home from here?”

“Absolutely. It’s not far.”

“Go straight home. Lock your door and windows.” He probably didn’t believe your nod. “I’ll come by later?”

A question. A request. It felt strange.

“Yeah. Come by when you’ve taken care of things.” There was no doubt about it for you. No matter how late that would be. “Be safe.”

That smile. That little soft smile he gave you sometimes had your cheeks flushing now.

You watched him leave the room, already speaking to someone through their comms, and slouched back against the desk. You might have been crazy, but you were pretty sure he’d been about to kiss you.

It hadn’t been easy keeping the cat you’d picked up during the Spanish Civil War secret from Sara (Mick had found you out pretty much immediately), but it would be worth it.

“Gideon, is the coast clear?”

“Indeed. Captain Lance is in the galley.”

“Thanks, Gideon.” You said as you bolted down the hall to Ray’s room. The fat, gray cat gave a loud meow in your arms. You shushed it and gave it a stern look before you knocked on the door in front of you.

The smile on Ray’s face when he opened the door was, frankly, unfair. He had no right being that cute all the time and it made you want to kick him in the shins sometimes, if only because you’re plan of stomping on your feelings until they gave up and died was not working.

When his eyes drifted from your face to the cat in your arms his brow furrowed. “Umm. You have a cat.”

“I do have a cat. Let me in.”

Without hesitation he moved aside and let you pass, keeping his distance and watching you warily. “Is there a reason you have a cat? Does Sara know you have a cat?”

“There is a reason. And, no, she doesn’t.” You said. “Mick knows. He warned me to keep it away from the rat you gave him. He treasures it.”

“Aw, Mick.”

You snorted. “Come here.” You gestured for him to sit on his bed. “You’re the reason I have a cat.”

“You do know I’m allergic to cats. And most other furry creatures.” But still he sat on the bed. He watched you look around his room for a chair with a smile still on his face. Sometimes you wondered how someone who had seen as much and experienced as much as him could still be so unerringly trusting.

You huffed when you couldn’t find one and crossed back over the room to sit beside him on the bed. You brought your knee up and tucked your foot under your other leg so you could face him, then held the cat out to him.

On instinct he leaned back, his smile wavering.

“I do know you’re allergic to cats. So am I, actually. Or, I was.” You held the cat out further. “I want to see if I can cure your allergies.”

“What?”

“I can repress my allergies because I’m able to control my body, and I’m sure I could do the same for you when I touch you. But, I want to see if I can just cure it permanently. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

He sneezed.

“Potentially,” you continued, “all I would have to do is teach your body to not produce IgE antibodies in reaction to the kitty and then tada!” You’d been working it out in your head since you’d spotted the cat near the ship and you couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect.

Ray looked between you and the cat. Carefully he took the cat and set it in his lap. Señora Gata (she’d needed a name, after all) sniffed at him and clawed at his pant leg for a moment before deciding he was a suitable seat and settling down. Ray winced and then sneezed again.

“Ray, this is Señora Gata. I found her on our last trip.”

Even as his eyes were turning red Ray nodded at the cat in his lap. “Nice to meet you.”

You smiled fondly at him. “Okay, let’s end your misery.” You kneeled on the bed and reached over the unimpressed cat. Ray watched you the whole while. You cupped the back of his neck, feeling the way he relaxed under your hand.

Normally you liked to also touch the afflicted area, but there wasn’t any particular spot with an allergy. Instead you laid your hand over the back of his where he was holding Señora Gata in place. He was still watching you when he turned his hand in place to hold yours.

Your eyes flew to his face and hoped your own gave nothing away.

Before you could do anything the alarm rang throughout the ship.

Damn Darkh and his stupid little plans for the Ninth Legion. Roman soldiers did not need future help.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see a centurion managing to land a blow on Mick, a cut on his upper arm, before getting fried. You changed direction to make your way over to him. Mick used to complain when you tried to heal him in the middle of battle, but he didn’t tend to move around a lot anyway and it was easy to get a quick hand on him while he fired.

He grunted when you reached up to lay a hand at an exposed part of his neck. “I’m fine.”

“You are now. Thanks to me.”

You could almost hear him roll his eyes. In the middle of a fight you weren’t exactly going to give Mick a kiss, instead you gave his arm a squeeze. “They just keep coming.” You said. “How many more of them do you-”

“Ray!”

You didn’t register the voice that called out but both you and Mick swung around in search of Ray.

The general preternatural awareness of your body that you were normally able to ignore was suddenly too much. You could feel the blood course through your veins, the air filling your lungs, the adrenaline pumping in your glands, and the actual skip of your heart.

Then it all went silent.

You took off without another thought. If Mick hadn't run after you you would have taken more than a swipe at your midsection. But, you didn’t notice the cut or the smell of burning flesh from the path Mick was clearing for you. The only thing you could see was where the gladius had gone straight through Ray’s chest.

He’d fallen to the ground already, but his eyes remained open. He was gasping for breath when you slid to the ground beside him.

“Hey. Hey, Ray.” You pressed your palm firmly against the wound on his chest and cupped the back of his neck. You leaned over to look him in the eye (he struggled to focus on you) and tried to keep your own body in check while you assessed the damage. His eyes slipped closed and you felt the panic build (you knew, you knew, that it was fine and even better that he wasn’t awake for what would follow). “Ray, look at me. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be a-okay. I’ve got you.”

The reassurance was more for you than him and you knew it. You’d taken care of stab wounds before, you’d done more than that in the past, but it hadn’t been Ray and somehow it felt very different. You didn’t have the presence of mind to control the adrenaline rushing through you and your hands shook where they held him.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that Mick was still circling around the both of you and firing off at anyone who got too close, but you had no idea where the others were or how things were playing out. You didn’t really care either.

“I’ve got you.” You said again though he couldn’t hear you.

There was an explosion from the other end of the field and you could no longer hear Mick’s heat gun.

While you cleared Ray’s lung of blood and began stitching him together you flooded him with endorphins, having already blocked his pain receptors. All the confidence you typically felt about your abilities was drowned out by the fear you felt. If only it hadn’t been him.

This was why, you told yourself, this was why you needed to just squish all the warm romantic feelings you had for him and move on. If you couldn’t focus on healing him and keeping him safe then you had to do something.

Only when you’d sealed the hole in his chest under your hand did you start to wake him. You kept your hands where they were, relishing in the feel of his heart pumping, and kept the pain away.

His eyes opened lazily, one first and then the other, and he struggled to focus on your face.

“Ray. Hey, look at me. Talk to me. Tell me you're okay.” You knew he was fine, you could feel it under your skin, but you needed to hear him.

It took him another minute before he could work through the haze of what you’d been doing with his neurochemistry. He smiled up at you. “Hey.”

The noise you made was halfway between a sob and a laugh. The relief was almost overwhelming.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

“Well, it's weird knowing I had a sword in me.”

You huffed a laugh. This goof.

“But, I feel fine. I’m guessing it’s thanks to whatever you’re doing.”

“Yeah.” You gave the back of his neck a little squeeze. “But if you ever let yourself get stabbed like that again I’ll kill you myself.”

“I didn't do it on purpose.”

He was fine. He was healthy. Still you looked him over and kept your hands where they were.

He glanced around briefly. “Where did everyone go?”

“No idea.” You hadn't even bothered to look up. You had only just noticed the bleeding slash on your waist (your body had begun to work on it without you now that you were no longer occupied with Ray’s injuries).

His eyes met yours again. You wondered how obvious you were being, but didn't have it in you to actually care at the moment.

All that mattered was that he was alive and well. Any fluctuations in his pulse or vagus nerve were to be expected.

“Do I get my kiss?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“I'm all better, so I get a kiss.” He grinned. “Remember, we had a whole discussion about it a few weeks ago.”

For a beat you stared at him. To hell with it.

You leaned down and pulled him up to meet your lips. There was no surprise or hesitation from Ray- he leaned into it, lips moving against yours, and brought his hand up to your cheek. It didn’t make a difference that you could identify the source of each reaction in your body, it still felt like heat had bloomed in your chest.

You were going to be so pissed if you didn’t get to do this again.

Another explosion rang in the distance and this time you had the presence of mind to see what it was. You pulled away, delighting in the way Ray’s lips followed yours, and took a deep breath.

He propped himself up with his other arm and kept the distance between you at a minimum. You hoped your smile was no more than half as dopey as his. Before you could say anything another explosion sounded.

“We should…” You started.

You hadn’t kissed him since he’d started dating Kendra.

It hadn’t felt right, kissing him while he was involved. Granted, you’d still given Kendra little kisses on her temple when you’d healed her. And when Nate and Amaya had started dating it hadn’t deterred you from giving either of them kisses. There was also the matter of Ray and Kendra breaking up with no change in regards to your willingness to kiss him.

Perhaps if your feelings for Ray had been purely platonic it wouldn’t have been a problem. If only.

You wanted more than the little kisses you could drop on the top of his head and you would not be an interloper. And when he and Kendra had split you’d continued your policy of not kissing him if only because it might have been too obvious.

Your natural inclination was to tamp down your feelings until you got over them anyway. You were sure it would happen at some point. Any day now. You just had to keep being patient. You were sure of it.

Any day now.

You’d assumed Ray hadn’t noticed.

Apparently you were a fool on all fronts.

The day had started with a rowdy encounter with a group of actual pirates appearing in California during the Gold Rush and, while all had turned out well, it had gotten bad first. As was Legends habit.

Amaya entertained her light gossip while she sat on a Med Bay chair and patiently waited for you to complete your work on fixing the laceration on her arm. It only required the lightest touch for you to be able to read and control the inner workings of her body, but your habit was a hand at the affected spot and a hand at the base of the neck. You had found that you required less concentration if you kept certain things constant.

The cut had been clean and it was an easy task to accelerate the cell regeneration that stitched her skin back together neatly. It didn’t even require much energy from either of you. You were free to discuss, then, Sara’s latest conquest in the form of a prospector’s pretty daughter (“I mean, I called it the moment I saw that smile she sent her. Made that girl weak in the knees” “Sara does have that effect.”).

You didn’t even notice Ray standing in the doorway as you laughed about whether or not Sara had scored with Queen Guinevere.

When you were satisfied with the full closure of fascia and epidermis on her arm you smiled and leaned forward to plant a gentle peck at the center of her forehead. She smiled fondly and shook her head (she had been more than surprised the first time and it had required seeing you do the same to other teammates a few times before she had willingly offered her temple).

“Have time to check me out?”

You jumped, Ray’s voice startling you, and glared at him when he came into your line of sight. And then glared at Amaya for keeping quiet and letting him scare you, even if by accident.

She did not look sorry.

“Of course I do.” You said, gesturing to the empty chair. “But if you scare me like that again you’ll have brain freeze for a week.”

“Sorry.” He smiled at you and you forgot all about it. He hopped up on the chair and let his legs swing out under him, looking so much younger and innocent than his giant biceps suggested (you might have had a particular preoccupation with his arms and you found no shame in that given how spectacular they were).

Amaya slid off the chair and gave your arm a squeeze. “I’m going to see what Zari is up to. Thank you.” And she was gone.

Ray waved at her as she left and then turned his full focus on you. You hadn’t seen him since you’d returned to the ship and hadn’t known about the cut on his forehead. He would have been your first patient otherwise- a head wound was always important to check on.

“What took you so long to come to me?” You frowned and moved around the chair Amaya had previously occupied. “You know better.” You scolded. As you neared he slid his knees apart to make room for you between his legs and ducked his head to give you better access. He was still taller than you, even sitting in the chair.

He shrugged. “Sorry. I felt alright.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot all about your meta ability to read the mechanical, organic, and biochemical workings of the body. Surely you knew better.” Just because you wanted to kiss him all the time didn’t mean you were going to be any less yourself around him.

You shook your head at him even as you laid a hand at his temple and the other at his neck. You ignored the way his shoulders loosened and marked the way all of him seemed to relax down to your ability subconsciously at work. In seconds you were satisfied it was only a superficial wound and he had no signs of a concussion or any other neurological problems. He still should have come to you sooner.

“You are aware that I’ve never fixed brain death, right? Don’t know if that’s even within my scope.”

“I wasn’t going to be brain dead!” He raised his head to argue and you glared until he lowered it once more.

“You didn’t know that, now did you?”

You thought you could see him smile to himself. “I won’t do it again.”

“Damn well better not.”

Checking his blood sugar and pressure while you were healing the few bruises and the main cut only took a couple of minutes and you were done. “There. All better.” You stepped back (if you let your hands trail on the skin of his neck as you pulled away you would never admit) and smiled at him.

“It was just you and Amaya who were hurt,  right?”

His “yeah” was quiet, but you shrugged it off. You expected him to slide off the chair and maybe the two of you would go get something from the galley. Instead he sat there and watched you toss away the bloodied strip of cloth Amaya had used as a bandage and wipe down the blood that had dropped onto the chair before washing your hands.

“Did I do something?”

You turned from your task to send him a confused look, your brows knitting together. “Aside from not come to me when you knew you should have?” You asked, slowly.

He was leaning forward in the seat, hands on either side of his legs, an intent look on his face. “You don’t kiss me anymore.”

You froze and had to wait while your brain tried to catch up.

“You know, the kisses after you do your thing and heal us. You used to do them. And then you stopped. I’m the only one who doesn’t get them.”

Quickly you ran through your options. You could deny (“That is ridiculous. I kiss you every time and you just don’t remember.”) or claim you didn’t notice (“Did I stop? I hadn’t noticed at all. Silly me.”) or maybe even convince him you hated him (“Well, Raymond, maybe it’s because you’re so lame.”). None of them sounded like great choices. You briefly considered just leaving, but it was a small ship and you were bound to run into him again.

So, in the end you only had one real course of action. Be cool.

He took your pause as invitation to continue. “At first I thought that it was because I started dating Kendra and you just weren’t sure about boundaries.” He shrugged. “But you still kissed Kendra. And you still kissed Nate and Amaya when they were together.”

Damn him for paying attention to things.

Thankfully, you considered yourself a fair actress and a good liar. You cleared your throat quietly. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t realize you missed them.” ‘Buddy’ was important.

“I liked them. They were nice.” He said plainly and you were glad you could control your own physiological responses and were in no danger of blushing.

“I did stop because you were dating Kendra. I didn’t want to step on any toes.” You shrugged. “And then realized Kendra wouldn’t mind, but I guess I just didn’t get back in the habit.” Half truths were always the best way to lie. The fewer outright lies you had to keep up with the smaller the chance of being caught- Lying 101.

He watched you without saying anything for a beat or two.

“Here, let’s give you a kiss.” You crossed back over to him and tilted his head down gently to reach his forehead. Kissing him should have been normal, but your punk feelings were going to cause trouble and you knew it. Still…

You figured you were making up for all the little kisses you hadn’t given him when you let your lips linger on his temple.

When you pulled back his eyes were closed and the temptation to kiss him properly nearly overwhelmed you. You took several steps back instead. “There you go. All better for real this time.”

He had a strange smile on his face- a little quiet, a little reserved- but you didn’t want to stick around and analyze it. “I’m going to get something to eat, gotta recharge.” You said before he could speak and turned to leave.

Oliver Queen was, in fact, standing at the end of the hall in a nice, crisp suit and a closed-lip smile. You might have even said he looked a little embarrassed.

A grin spread across your face.

Under his breath Tony muttered about how angry Jacob would be to have missed this.

While Oliver had glanced over at Tony when he’d first stepped into the hall he looked only at you as he approached. There had been a tension in his shoulders at first, but you could see it slipping off with each step.

“Hi.” He said, smiling at you.

“Hey.”

After a beat he turned to Tony and held out a hand. “Hi, Oliver Queen.”

Tony scrambled to free his hand for a moment before you took pity on him and grabbed on of the bags away from him so he could shake Oliver’s hand. “Yes. Yeah, of course. I know you are, Mayor Queen. I voted for you.” He looked at your while he continued to shake his hand and only seemed to remember his manners when you raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah, I’m Antony Cruz.” He let go of Oliver’s hand finally.

You kept grinning at Oliver and, with his hand free again, he had turned to focus on you. You stood like that for a minute, smiling at each other, with Tony looking back and forth between you curiously.

“So,” he said, taking the bag back from you, “I’m going to go wait for Jacob and leave you two alone since I realize you know each other and my food is getting cold.” He walked slowly to his door. You knew from the look he gave you that you would have some explaining to do later. He kept watch until the door fully closed and cut him off from the last sliver of a view.

You chuckled to yourself. “The moment you leave I’m going to have to deal with the inquisition.” You nudged your door open wide and gestured for him to come in with a flourish.

“Not my intention at all.” He chuckled.

Standing in the center of your apartment you realized this was the first time you’d ever seen him in the light of day. It was a strange sight- Oliver in a nice suit, hands in his pockets, smiling at you in the light from your window.

You almost had a feeling like you should have greeted him differently, given the change in arrival and circumstance, but weren’t sure how.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I figured it was probably time to visit some way other than your window.”

“Much more respectable this way.” You agreed. “I can’t keep having some strange man sneak in through my window at night. What will people think?” Well, in this instance they might have been concerned that you were harboring a fugitive vigilante.

He practically grinned. “And here I thought I’d left those days behind me.”

It took you a second to remember the old Oliver Queen wild playboy era. You had grown up the same as anyone in Starling City, hearing about all the Queen heir’s exploits, and now it seemed so distant from the man you knew. Even if you mostly knew his crime-fighting side.

He glanced around the room and zeroed in on the window. His sigh was just on the side of dramatic as he walked over to it and pointedly locked the latch. “You’re going to get robbed. Or worse.”

You shrugged. “Well, I’d give you a key if it made any sense for you to come in through the door. But don’t think I haven’t thought about the logistics of putting a keylock on the window.” It was difficult to decipher the look on his face so you gave up trying and turned to the computer in the corner (you needed to save your work, after all). “So what brings you to this neck of the woods in a suit instead of leather?”

The look changed to something far more familiar, fond amusement.

“I am actually here to take you out to lunch.” He cocked his head to the side. “If you’re free.”

You had to admit, you were surprised. So far your entire relationship had been comprised of late night talks and the occasional water bottle (maybe a sandwich once), you weren’t even sure how a lunch out in public would go. You’d certainly never been out with such a public figure before. Jane was going to lose it.

Even with the uncertainty you were excited.

Realizing you’d been silently staring at him you blinked. “Yeah!” You cleared your throat and tried for a less enthusiastic version. “Yeah, of course I’m free.” You glanced down at your sweatpants and sweater. “But if I don’t change either you’re going to be way overdressed or I’m going to be way underdressed.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry too much about it. You’ll look nice in whatever.”

You had already turned to walk to your room and didn’t have to worry about hiding the pleased flush on your cheeks. “But not sweatpants, right?”

“Probably not sweatpants.”

You left your bedroom door open a crack and started rifling through your closet. “And you don’t have any important mayorly things to be doing? Or, you know, the other kind?” You called out.

When he answered it sounded like he was just outside the door. “Not today, cleared my schedule.”

“For lunch?”

“For you.”

You froze in front of your closet, one leg in your jeans.

“I also went ahead and added your name to the security lists. That way you don’t have to sneak in the window if you want to visit.” He continued, not seeming to find anything strange.

While you were having a moment (skin flushed, stupid giddy grin) he remained casual. Hopping on one leg you finished sliding on your pants and looked for a sweater. It was nothing, you told yourself, it was clearly nothing to him. You guys were bros.

You nudged the bedroom door open while you tugged your sweater down over your stomach, then held your arms out. “This alright?”

Oliver didn’t say anything at first. Instead he watched you intently and the flush you’d pushed down in the room came blooming back to your cheeks. Finally he nodded. “You look great.”

“Just a sweater.” You mumbled. He followed you as you walked back to the living room to grab your bag and phone. “All set.” You told him, swinging the bag on your shoulder and opening the front door.

He waited for you to lock up and when you had turned around he was holding out his hand. “Shall we? I’m starving.”