#elevator trope

The emergency lights kicked lending the space an ethereal glow. Under other circumstances it would be considered romantic. If they didn't mean that she was now trapped in a metal box with Starling City's prodigal son. Her glasses had fallen off somewhere but she had to untangle herself from Oliver Queen in order to find them. Felicity gasped as she tried to get up. This however meant that she had to put more weight on the Mayor’s body. Needless to say, she ended up touching him in places other women would beg to touch.

“Why are you so hard?” she asked trying to figure out if he was really as much a fitness freak as the tabloids reported.

He made a weird noise like he was choking. Felicity looked at him perplexed as she finally located her discarded glasses behind his head and put them on. Then she replayed her last words in her mind.

“Oh!”

Mayor Queen just pressed a hand to his mouth. Felicity began a heartfelt - if somewhat - incoherent apology before she realized that he wasn’t mortified. Nope. The bastard was actually laughing.

“Oomf, let me get up, you..." She struggled to find an appropriate insult, "You’re so immature Mr. Thick Thickety Thickface!”

“What did you call me?” 

He hadn’t stopped laughing and his blue eyes were sparkling with amusement and mischief.

“Thickface. You know. Like from Doctor Who.”

“Who?”

“For TARDIS’s sake, I’m stuck in an elevator with a man who hasn’t even heard of Doctor Who.” 

She paused for a second looking around. She was actually stuck in there, wasn’t she? Odd, she hadn't considered herself claustrophobic but the fact that she was closed-in and had no way to escape made her hyperventilate. Felicity tried to get a deep breath but realized she couldn’t. Being familiar with panic attacks since her college days didn't mean she could easily defeat them. She hugged herself and backed away.

“What’s wrong?”

He sounded completely serious now. He was even using his mayoral voice. It was deep, full of concern and really attractive, not that she would ever tell him that.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s the matter.”

“We’re stuck here, you dufus! And I just realized something. I think I’m afraid of narrow cramped spaces.”

“You think?”

“Fine. I know I’m afraid. Happy?”

He muttered something unintelligible and pulled out a slick iPhone. Technology! Felicity had left all her things at the office but surely he hadn’t. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Instead she had gone from insulting the Mayor to panicking in front of him. 

Great, Felicity. Just great. 

Relief flooded her body and she sat down in the corner. She might as well get comfortable while waiting for rescue. Judging by his ‘hello’ the Mayor managed to get somebody on the line. Probably poor Denise who was the most efficient person Felicity had ever met. Which was good because it meant that their time together was coming to an end. Quite literally since this was Felicity’s last day on the job.  

“How soon can you get us out of here?”

Whatever the other person’s reply was, he didn’t look pleased.

“Fine,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you call Makayla and warn her? Tell her she can wait at the loft. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Felicity grimaced. Of course he had a date. It was Friday night, the man was single and half of Starling was in love with him. Women must wait in queues for the chance to go out with the mayor. Makayla must be a supermodel or influencer. Or perhaps a youtuber? Felicity shuddered at the thought.

While she had been pondering Makayla's profession, he had put the phone back in his pocket and he didn’t look happy.

“So, we’re not leaving anytime soon huh?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He rolled his shoulders and crossed his ankles. “Do you still feel anxious?”

“Don’t talk about that! I’m fine talking literally about anything else. Just don’t remind me-”

“That you’re stuck in an elevator with me. I heard.”

His voice wasn’t that soft now. He actually sounded prissy. Felicity had to admit that she hadn’t been very welcoming in the past but she had a good reason for that. Also, she never said that she minded being trapped with him specifically.

She cleared her throat. “It’s better that you’re here to be honest. It would have been so much worse if I had been stuck all by myself.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Do you know that’s the first kind thing you have ever said to me, Miss Smoak?”

Felicity smoothed her polka dot dress to avoid looking at him. “Umm, you can call me Felicity you know. After all, I already called you a dufus and a thickface.”

He smiled. And not his fake ‘everything will be okay’ politician’s smile but a real one. She could tell from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and an adorable dimple appeared on his face. Felicity smiled back feeling absurdly pleased.

“And you can call me Oliver, Felicity. I prefer it to dufus anyway.”

She almost shook his hand but since she had been working at City Hall for more than two years it would be totally crazy.

“Just keep talking to me, Oliver. So that I don’t panic again.”

He loosened his tie and considered her. 

“Shall we play a game?”

Felicity gave him a sideways glance. It wouldn’t do to forget that this man was a notorious playboy.

“What kind of game?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He lifted his arms in surrender. “Hey, I live with an eleven-year-old these days. We play guessing games in the car to school so that he doesn't get bored. What did you think I was talking about?”

Felicity winced. She had put her foot in her mouth. Again. People tended to disregard the fact that he was the father of a young boy and not the man who frequented Verdant, getting drunk and sleeping with pretty socialites. Apparently she was guilty of making the same mistake.

“How about twenty questions? I would suggest ‘I spy’ but we would be done in about thirty seconds in here.”

Oliver flashed her a half-smile and nodded. “Me first.” He was quiet for a few moments. “What is Doctor Who?”

Felicity tsked. “Your knowledge of popular culture is sorely lacking if you don’t know the answer to that. Doctor Who is a British science fiction show. It would take me years to properly explain it because it’s been running since 1963.”

“1963?” he asked, full of awe.

Felicity giggled at his expression. “Fans of the show are called whovians.”

“Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” She couldn’t help but add, “There is a time machine on the show. Also, aliens and monsters.”

“And I thought that Keeping Up With The Kardashians is the weirdest thing on TV.”

“You don’t know Doctor Who but you know the Kardashians?”

He laughed openly at her outrage. “Your turn, Felicity.”

“They say you have a tattoo. True or false?”

“True.” 

“Where? What is it?” Felicity had always been fascinated by tattoos. She was too afraid of needles to ever consider getting one herself but the thought that Starling City’s mayor was hiding a tattoo underneath those Armani suits… It was hot. Undeniably hot.

“The one they’re talking about is on my left shoulder. It’s a dragon.”

“You got more than one?”

“Yes.”

“Curiouser and curiouser!”

“That I recognize. It’s from Alice in Wonderland, right?”

Felicity was surprised he recognized that iconic line. “Your son likes fairytales?”

“No. Thea went through a whole fairytale phase when she was little. Mom had to read her this one for a bedtime story everyday for a year. We had Alice in Wonderland tea parties and I was always the Mad Hatter.”

She tried to picture him wearing a top hat and sipping from a delicate teacup and failed. The man the city had voted as mayor two years ago was too serious and too sexy to play dress up with a little girl. Although the fact that he was willing to do that for his sister earned him a lot of brownie points.

“Are there incriminating pictures?”

“No.” He answered so quickly that his denial had to be a lie. “That was your fifth question, Felicity. It’s my turn now.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’d rather be the one asking the questions, wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t help it. You’re kind of intriguing.”

“Yes,” he said, accepting the compliment because it was true, “but it’s more than that.”

“I’m not that interesting, Oliver.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. And you owe me three more questions before it’s your turn again.”

Wrinkling her nose, she crossed her arms and silently gave him permission to go ahead.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Mr. Mayor that is the most boring question in the history of this game.”

“Humor me, Felicity. You know everything about my family,” his voice slightly mocking, “but I know nothing about yours.”

“Well, since you told me about your Alice in Wonderland tea parties…” she began. Oliver chuckled in a way that showed he enjoyed her teasing so she went on, “I have no siblings. That I know of.”

He tilted his head and a furrow appeared on his forehead. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s a story for another time.”

She thought that her refusal to answer the question would bring a hundred more. But she should have known that being a Queen meant that he had spent most of his life avoiding noisy people and indiscreet questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. Red. It depends on the day. Yours?”

“Green. But it’s still my turn, Felicity.”

“Okay, okay.”

“What is your favorite superhero?”

“The Green Arrow.”

“Who?”

“Really, Oliver? You haven’t heard of the Emerald Archer?”

And as he shook his head she proceeded to tell him the story of one of the most underappreciated superheroes of all time. At least in her opinion.

What followed was the most comfortable and fun conversation she had ever had with a man. She tried (and failed) to educate him about Marvel and DC. He tried (and miserably failed) to educate her about sports and his favorite team, the Blue Jays. Who would have thought that the guy she had been avoiding like the plague was so easy to talk to? Most of all she was impressed by the way he was able to laugh at himself and his previous lifestyle. He answered everything she threw at him (even the one about the infamous cop incident) and she purposefully stayed away from questions revolving around his son. Since he had respected her privacy before, it was no hardship for her to respect his. They discussed everything you were supposed to talk about on a first date but without the pressure and sweating that usually accompanied first dates. Felicity felt free to be herself without worrying about being too awkward or annoying.

Oliver glanced at his watch. “I think the fire department will be here soon.”

“Oh, right.” Felicity hadn’t even thought of the time for the past twenty minutes.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Is this really your last day? You’re leaving us?”

Felicity gulped and nodded.

“Are you going to start your own company or something?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“No. Actually, I got an offer from PalmerTech.”

He scoffed. “Ray Palmer?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “What’s wrong with Ray Palmer? He’s a good guy and a wonderful boss. Not to mention that his company is on the top of Fortune 500.”

He removed his jacket with a little bit more violence than the action required. “He’s a douche, Felicity. Plain and simple. Did you know that last month he approached me about renaming the city? As if we would change the name of a whole city just because Ray thinks Star City sounds more modern than Starling?”

“Star City is not a bad suggestion.”

He ran a hand through his hair and glowered at her. “Do you know what a starling is?”

“Sure. It’s a bird.”

“History says that there were no starlings in the United States until a man released 60 of them in Central Park back in the 1900s. According to legend, a shepherd was walking across a field when he heard someone calling for help. He ran towards the voice but couldn’t see anyone. Then the voice called to him from the top of a tree. It was a small bird who could speak like a human. She claimed-”

“The bird was a woman?” Felicity asked, fascinated.

“Of course it was a woman. Wouldn’t be much of a legend otherwise. Anyway, the woman said that her name was Jocelyn and that an evil queen had cursed her to become a bird when she had refused to marry her son. The problem was that the son was the Devil himself.”

“If the Devil looked like Lucifer she wouldn't have said no.”

Oliver didn't pay attention to her irreverence and went on, “So the hero promised to fight the Devil himself and the evil queen for her. He only asked for one thing in return.”

“Let me guess. She had to marry the shepherd when the fight was over.”

“Correct.” Oliver rolled his sleeves up, totally derailing Felicity’s train of thought. There was a vein running along his forearm which drew her gaze like a magnet. “Once they had an agreement, he tapped the ground twice with his crook. It opened to reveal a downwards path leading to the gates of Hell. While the little starling was waiting, the shepherd went down the path and entered Hell. He didn’t return for 320 days.”

“Should have been named Penelope and not Jocelyn,” Felicity muttered.

Oliver let out a startled laugh but continued with the story. “Of course, he came back victorious and proud of himself. The little bird was free and was now a beautiful woman. She married him and they spent the rest of their days raising a family here and building a town called Starling to commemorate the way they met.”

Felicity scrunched her nose. “It’s not a bad story.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mr. Mayor?”

“That we come from somewhere. Our city may not be old itself but it is deeply rooted in history. We don’t want to forget that, Felicity. Forgetting where you come from means you’ll eventually forget where you are headed.”

She didn’t say anything out loud but his words had hit a nerve. Wasn’t she guilty of that? Hadn’t she moved a thousand miles away from Cambridge just to avoid the past? Wasn’t she doing the exact same thing every time a man asked her out? She exhaled slowly, suddenly feeling very disappointed in herself.

“I didn’t tell you the story to make you sad, Felicity.”

She peered at him over her glasses. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… Having an epiphany while being trapped in an elevator sucks.”

Oliver gave her another one of his genuine smiles.

“Anyway, I’ll make sure to tell Ray that our city doesn’t need a name change.”

He ignored her comment. “Did you have big plans for tonight? Seeing that this was your last day working here.”

“Big Belly and red wine.”

"I have never tried Big Belly burger," he confessed.

"But you must! The moment we're out of here you should ask Mr. Diggle to take you. It's in the Glades though and I know that the previous Mayor rarely ventured there but you have to try it at least once. It's full of grease and salt."

"Ah, the secret ingredients," he teased.

Felicity laughed. "What about you? Do you have any big plans for tonight?" she asked even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know more about his date with Makayla, the supermodel.

“My son has,” he stole a glance at his watch again, “well, had to present a science project this evening. I was supposed to be there for him.”

“I’m sorry.” An inadequate sentiment but she meant it.

“It’s okay. He’s used to being disappointed by his parents.”

The offhand comment prickled her curiosity. "What does that mean exactly?"

"You've heard the story. My family paid Samantha - William's mother - a lot of money to disappear. And she did for about ten years."

"But she's back now, isn't she? You live with William after all."

"Samantha decided that she had enough of being a single parent. Last year she left William with me and moved to Central City. She visits him every other weekend."

There was more to it of course. Felicity thought over his words. He didn't say that he paid Samantha Clayton, he said that his family paid her. The press considered it the same thing, but the distinction was important to Felicity. Also, the fact that the boy's mother had chosen to abandon her child with a father he barely knew was incomprehensible. Fathers were the ones who were not reliable based on her experience. People could count on their mothers to always be there. Come hell or high water.

Iris sighs, already missing the breath of air that had started to hurt her lungs. “Don’t be silly,” she says, a little too loud; the first thing besides hi or bye that she says to him in months. He squints at her. “People are watching,” she whispers, and he steps onto the elevator without another complaint, letting the doors close (finally) behind him.

He moves to the farthest point away from her, and she stands in the back corner, and they refuse to make eye contact. She doesn’t think that a thirty second elevator ride could be excruciating, but god; standing here with him, feet between them and yet closer than they’d been in months, being able to hear him breathe and see him twitch and feel his eyes on her… She’s never been more uncomfortable, never been more aware of how every single second passed by them.

“I, uh,” he starts, and she glances out of the corner of her eye so she can see his mouth hanging open as he struggles with words. “I just wanted to, um,” he tries again.

She presses her lips into a tight line and counts down the seconds until she can race out of the elevator and be as far away from him as humanly possible - seven, six, five…

The elevator (having other plans, it seems) jolts, and Iris stumbles forward. Unconsciously (she hopes), Barry reaches out to her and steadies her, his palm warm against the fabric of her jacket. She twists quickly out of his grip, still unsure on her feet, and he is back in his corner before she even rights herself.

The lights flicker (on and off and on and off) while the elevator whines for a few seconds, and she wants to protest right along with it as it settles. She wants to scream when it fully stops, quiet again, doors tightly shut.

Instead, she just glares.

“Oh, god,” Barry mumbles to himself, but she can still hear, and he slams his hands against the door. “Hey! Hey, is there someone out there? We’re stuck in here! Hello?”

He continues on for a few seconds, and Iris ignores him as he bangs and hits and yells. Instead, she pulls out her phone and calls her father, staring pointedly at her feet. “Iris,” her dad says after the second ring, “it’s not a good time, baby, something-”

“I’m stuck in the elevator,” she interrupts. Barry stops. “The elevator in the station.”

“Did it go out?” her father asks. The he sighs, long and frustrated even over the phone. “Of course it did. Look, baby girl, I’ll get someone here as soon as possible to get it open and get you out, but we have a situation downtown. Someone short circuited the power to a lot of government buildings and banks, and it’s caused panic. I need to get in contact with Barry so we can sort out what’s going on.”

“Dad,” she says.

“Do you have water? Is air blowing in there? Do you think you can hold on for an hour while we wait for the fire department to get out here?”

“Yeah,” she says. “but, dad, Barry is-”

“Probably down at STAR Labs with Cisco or something. I’ll call him. And Cisco might be able to come get you out first. As long as one of them is helping me out, I’m sure the other can come and get you.”

“No, he’s here with me,” she says, and she can feel Barry’s eyes on her. “Barry is in the elevator with me. And if you have a metahuman out there-”

The phone is torn from her fingers and Iris jumps back, electricity tingling the tips of her fingers. “Joe, what metahuman?” Barry says into the phone. “No… Look, I know. I get- no. If there’s a metahuman, Cisco needs to be out there with you. I can’t get out of here, and it will take too much time for him to come down and sort me out. You might lose the meta. Yeah. Yeah. No, she is with Ronnie. It’s just him.” He sighed. “We’ll be fine. Cisco can handle it. Just get someone down here as soon as you can. Yeah. Bye.”

Barry holds out her phone, and she stares at it for a few seconds before grabbing it from his hand. “Sorry for taking it,” he says quietly. “I heard you say metahuman and I panicked.”

She mumbles something that doesn’t even sound like a word to her own ears, and stares back down at her phone. She contemplates playing music or downloading some kind of game and just ignoring him for however long they are stuck together (for the rest of her life?, she wonders dully), but her phone is at 9% battery, and she doesn’t want to have it die in case her father tries to contact them.

He shifts in his corner, and she backs away again into her own, slumping to the floor. She hears him follow suit, and sees the edges of his shoes (wearing converse with a very worn toe; she wonders if he ever runs in them).

“How is your new place?” he asks, finally, after minutes crawl by.

Iris shrugs, and moves her phone from one hand to another.

“Joe told me you live close enough that you can walk to work.” She nods again. “That’s cool. Useful, too.”

Iris doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t even look at him.

She can hear him fidget, though, and can imagine how it looks: his fingers tapping against his leg or the floor, his head moving back and forth, his eyes always on her.

“Look, Iris, I know things have been weird between us,” he starts, and for the first time in months, she choses to look at him directly.

“Don’t,” she says.

He sighs. “Come on,” he says. “We’re here. We might as well talk about it, about everything that happened with-”

“Dad tells me that you’ve been spending a lot of time with his new partner,” she blurts out, and Barry’s eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. “The new one,” she says, and he tilts his head to the side. “You know. Oh, god, I don’t even remember her name.”

She wants to look away, is the thing, but she can’t. Not when she is finally staring at him, finally seeing his face again, finally reading the emotions that are constantly written there. Guilt. Annoyance. Wonder.

“You’re avoiding the subject,” he says.

Iris bites her lip. “I’m not avoiding anything,” she says, sounding more harsh than she means. “I just don’t want to talk about this right now.”

He closes his eyes and she chooses to focus on his hands (big and pale and bony) running through his hair instead of his open mouth or the rise and fall of his chest. She spent enough time, when he was in a coma, looking at the rise and fall of his chest. “Well, we have to talk about it,” he replies. “And we’re here, right now, with no way out and no way to get out of it. It’s been five months, Iris, and you barely even look at me anymore.”

“I look at you,” she protests weakly.

“I don’t count it when you glance at me out of the corner of your eye when you think I’m not paying attention,” he says. “Or when you drop something off for Cisco and happen to see me on the computer screen.”

She stays silent.

“Yeah,” he says, opening his eyes again. She still can’t look away from his face. “I know that you go over to STAR Labs and see Caitlin and Cisco when I’m not there. It’s not exactly a secret.”

Well, it was supposed to be. But she doesn’t say that, either.

She finds his eyes, again, and they just stare at each other. Iris can’t tell whether or not time slows down or speeds up, or if he is as close to tears as she feels, but she doesn’t break their eye contact. It’s strange, she thinks, because it’s like nothing has changed between them even though everything about their friendship and relationship is so completely different, and she can feel something aching in her chest that she can’t exactly name. Because she’s too guilty to even acknowledge it, but when she looks at him, when she can see the color of his eyes and feel him staring at her, it’s hard to ignore. 

“I just need to talk to you,” he says, so quietly she thinks maybe she imagined it. “Is that so much to ask?”