what does home look like? - t - olicity - part four [a]
title: what does home look like? (I've only seen shadows of it in my dreams)
category: arrow
genre: family/romance
ship: felicity/oliver
chapter rating: pg-13/teen
overall rating: nc-17/explicit
polyvore: felicity's outfit
prompt: ooh ooh felicity as lance's step-daughter, growing up with laurel and sara, in love with oliver! - anonymous
word count: 7,100
summary: (au) For most of her life, Felicity Smoak grew up with her father in Coast City, only visiting her mother Dinah and the Lance family in the summers. But when her father drops her off for an unexpected visit and doesn't come back, Felicity is forced to figure out what 'family' really means. And, in the meantime, falling in love with the local billionaire can't hurt, right?
previous: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three,
what does home look like? (I've only seen shadows of it in my dreams)
-novel-
IV.
As soon as Felicity walked through the apartment door, she had a face full of Sara's hair; her sister hugged her so tightly, Felicity was concerned for the welfare of her ribs. But just as quickly as Sara was on her, she let go. Pointing a finger in her face, Sara told her simply, "We're gonna talk about this," before she turned on her heel and walked away.
Sighing under her breath, Felicity watched her go, her nerves more than a little frayed. Truth be told, she could count on one hand how many times her and Sara had fought. It wasn't that they never disagreed, she was sure they did, but Sara was so easy going, so quick to laugh things off, that arguing was rare. And Felicity never liked fighting with her, not when they got so little time together as it was. Maybe it was a little bit because this part of her family was her escape; they were like the dream life she didn't have, but got a taste of each year.
Quentin's hand on her shoulder was what pushed her forward. When she looked back, he nodded his head. "Your mom's waitin' on you," he said. "I called Dee when we parked."
Swallowing tightly, Felicity walked down the hall to the living room, pulling on her fingers awkwardly. She spotted her mother immediately, pacing the length of the room, one arm wrapped around her waist while her other hand was raised, her fingers furled into a fist that rested against her chin.
Felicity struggled for a moment. Should she interrupt her or just wait for Dinah to notice her? This had never happened with Tony. She left home and returned whenever she wanted and her father never mentioned it. There were times she liked and hated that freedom in equal measure. Likewise, whenever she visited her mother, she had no reason to be out late. The only two people she knew around her age were Laurel and Sara. She rarely got into trouble when she visited Dinah and so this experience felt completely new and, because of that, made her anxious.
Her mouth opened, but no words came, and so she just stared and watched. But she wasn't a coward, she told herself. Whatever Dinah wanted to say, if she wanted to yell or just quietly dismiss her or maybe she'd tell her it was all too much, all of this stuff with Tony, and Felicity would accept that. She would. She already had her plans in order, right? So it wouldn't hurt if her mother told her it was just too hard to deal with. That she didn't have time for Felicity to be playing the rebellious teenager. Or maybe she'd make excuses, tell her Laurel didn't mean it, that she shouldn't take it seriously, that leaving like that wasn't any way to behave.
"Mom?" she finally managed to push out, between lips that wanted to steal it right back.
Dinah stopped mid-step, spinning to look at her, her brows hiked high. She crossed the room in a flash, gathering Felicity up in a hug, her arms squeezing around her tightly.
Felicity both leaned in and away, not sure how to react, if it was just the calm before the storm. She tried to remember how Jennifer's parents treated her when she was in trouble, but all she could think of was their family meetings that usually dissolved into yelling and blaming and complaining about each other until eventually resolving one of many issues and deciding that was enough work for one day before they went out for dinner or broke out the ice cream to celebrate their questionable conflict resolution skills.
"What were you thinking?" Dinah asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Running off like that, in a city you barely know. Do you have any idea what could've happened to you?" Her hands stroked over Felicity's shoulders, her hands trembling slightly. "You didn't call, you didn't answer when we called you. I was so-I thought-Do you know how worried I was? I…" She shook her head, pulling back to look down at Felicity, her brow furrowed, her lips set in a line.
Felicity took a moment to notice how red Dinah's eyes were and felt… awkward. Had she cried? Her mother was always so strong. Growing up, Felicity had looked up to her for that. Being the girl that cried whenever she skinned her knees or got a papercut, she never felt strong. She felt small and weak and all boney legs and too long arms. She wasn't curvy like her mother, didn't hold her head up high like Dinah did, didn't face down the criticism of others with an amused, dismissive laugh. Her mother was the kind of woman Felicity looked at and wished she could be more of. Strong and beautiful and smart, taking the world by the throat and vowing to stand on top of it, all while wearing a tailored power suit.
"I know you were upset. I understand that," Dinah continued. "You had every right to be, I won't argue that. But Felicity, you don't run away from your problems. You don't run off into a city that could eat you whole and spit you out someplace we'd never find you. Do you hear me?" She gripped Felicity's arms tightly, staring down at her worriedly. "I won't… I won't lose you. You're smart, you're brilliant, so why on earth did you think running off like that was a good idea?"
"I just… needed space. That's all. I needed to be on my own." Felicity shrugged, her gaze falling, staring at a button on her mother's shirt. Was it lopsided? It looked lopsided.
"Space is one thing. You have a room for that. But leaving like that, for hours, that's not… It's not okay," Dinah stressed.
Felicity nodded. "Okay," she whispered.
"Felicity…"
"Yeah?"
Dinah sighed. "Will you look at me? Please?"
She raised her eyes slowly, to the hollow of Dinah's neck, and then higher, to her chin, higher still to her pursed lips and then the dusting of blush on her cheeks and finally to her eyes. Green. Like Laurel's.
"Good. There you are." She reached up, cupping Felicity's cheek a moment, before stroking back a few stray hairs behind her ear, over and over, like she did when she hadn't seen Felicity in months, when she missed her. "This thing with Laurel… What she said…" Dinah paused a moment and shook her head minutely. "She didn't mean it. She… You have to know she didn't. She loves you. I know she does. But she's having trouble right now. She's used to being the oldest and now she's like the middle child. It's just different for her. Maybe she thinks we've been ignoring her. If that's what it is, it's something we'll have to work on. What she said to you was unfair, you didn't deserve that. Laurel's been stressed out with school and all of these extra-curriculars she's been taking on, but that's no excuse, okay?" Dinah shook her head. "You're loved, you're wanted, and I know it doesn't feel that way right now. I know you're upset and you're confused, but you need to talk to me, okay?" She tapped Felicity's chin to get her to raise it. "You can always talk to me."
Felicity nodded. "Okay."
A heavy sigh left Dinah, her shoulders slumping, but instead of pushing it further, she gathered Felicity in tight and hugged her, stroking her hand down Felicity's hair and just holding her. She hummed quietly, rubbing a hand back and forth over Felicity's shoulders, like she used to when she was a little girl and she was upset. Felicity closed her eyes as tears bit at them, and turned her face down and pressed it hard into her mother's shoulder. But she didn't speak, she didn't clarify, she didn't tell her mom all of the awful things she'd been thinking, about how she didn't fit and maybe Laurel didn't love her, and that was okay, right? It was okay. Sometimes people just didn't love their family. They didn't love their sisters or their daughters or their fathers. That was okay.
It was okay.
Sara just stared for a long moment, trying to get her thoughts in order. She leaned in the doorway and glared at the back of her sister's head. But, eventually, she got tired of not saying what needed to be said.
"So? Are we going to talk about Hurricane Laurel and her bitch storm, or are we going to ignore the obvious?"
Tossing her pencil down, Laurel turned in her chair, raising an eyebrow at Sara. "Please, Sar, tell me what you really think…" she muttered sarcastically.
"If that's an invitation, I'm totally up for it." Sara stepped into the room, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms over her chest. "What's going on with you? Usually you're happy when Lissy's here, but you've been weird ever since she showed up."
"Surprised you even noticed," Laurel said, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me? Because of course I noticed. Look, we might not always get along, and I know we're really different, but I know you. You're my sister, which is the only reason why I'm not yelling at you right now. Because what you said to Felicity, that was harsh. Like, really harsh, Laur. And I don't know where it came from or why, but it's not like you. I know you love her. Every time she went home, you'd be a total drag for like a week. So what is it? Is this just about Oliver or is it something bigger than that?"
Laurel didn't answer right away, instead staring at a poster on her wall for a long moment, but she tugged on her fingers, picking at her nails like she always did when she was nervous and working up to something. Sara was no stranger to the aggressive, say what she means, side of her sister, but the uncertain side of Laurel was rare. She didn't like showing weakness and so she rarely did. But there were times when she let her walls down, times when she was genuine, letting that little bit of insecurity she carried show.
Sara crossed the room to take a seat on the edge of Laurel's bed, all lace and flowers and dripping with femininity. There was no clutter to be seen. Laurel was like that. She was organized and prepared, more like Dinah while Sara was like Quentin. If they had to be colors, Dinah and Laurel would be white; clear, pristine, certain and capable. Quentin and Sara would be brown; a coffee stain on the table of life, no coaster needed or remembered, simply leaving a mark wherever they went and unapologetic for it. Felicity would be blue; both soft and strong, a little sad, a little hopeful, gentle, eager to please, and full of comfort.
"What does she have that I don't?" Laurel finally wondered, her voice quiet, her lips strained. "I… I tried so hard to get him to notice me. I did everything I could for him to see me. And I thought… I thought we'd make sense, you know? Me and him. I-I can see myself in that world. I'm smart. Maybe not genius level smart, but I've got a 3.8 GPA. I work my butt off, I do. My whole life I've been working up to this. To fitting into that world. The etiquette classes and the extra-curriculars and setting myself up for law school. One day I'm going to be the DA, I can feel it in my bones, Sara. So why. Why does he want her and not me?" She threw her hands up, biting her lip.
Sara sighed, staring at her sister a long moment. "I love you, Laur, I really do. But do you hear yourself?"
Laurel's eyes narrowed in confusion.
"What part of any of that had to do with Oliver?" Sara wondered. "You talked about 'that life.' Not about him. Not about who he is or why you like him or why you think you guys would be good for each other. He's just… a stepping stone in your perfect life, you know? And that's not fair. Not to you or to him." Sara rolled her eyes, hopping off the bed. "Listen, this thing with him and Felicity, I don't know if it's going to work out. I don't know if any relationship's ever really gonna work out. But I do know that when she hangs out with him, she's hanging out with Oliver. Not the Queen heir, not the 'future husband of the DA.' He's just… Oliver to her. And maybe that's why. Maybe that's what he likes about her. I don't know. But I do know that being pissed at your sister because of some dude, that's just… stupid. I mean, he's just a guy. Just one guy in the whole world. But your sister… She's your family. She's gonna be there with you until the end." Sara shrugged. "So you can be pissed that your dream world popped, you can be upset that your crush isn't into you, but don't put it on Felicity's shoulders… because it's not her fault."
With that, Sara turned on her heel and walked to the door, pausing only when she reached for the handle. "And… just for the record…" She turned back. "You're a great person, Laurel. With or without the etiquette lessons or the GPA or whatever kickass job you wanna do in the future. You're awesome. And one day you're gonna find the right guy, and he's gonna know that too."
Leaving it at that, Sara walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Making her way to her own room, she rolled her eyes to herself. Boy drama. Ugh. No thanks.
Felicity woke the next morning to Sara jumping on her. Literally leaping on her while she was bundled up under her blankets. With a laugh, Sara rolled off of her to lay next to her on the bed. Still sleepy, Felicity opened bleary eyes to squint at her sister. The early morning sun was cutting in through the window, giving Sara a soft, fuzzy glow, completely unworthy of someone who cannonballed her sister at 7 am.
Sara, far too knowing for a girl her age, half-smiled at her, reaching out to brush the hair out of her eyes.
"You wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.
Felicity's eyes fell to the bed for a moment and then she shook her head. Because she didn't. She didn't want to talk about the words Laurel threw at her that still stung or how she ran away like a coward or how she was still planning on running away, home, to her friends.
"Okay," Sara said and then wiggled her way over to press her forehead to Felicity's. "But when you do, I'm here. And I won't make fun of you. Not even when you cry so bad that you're all gross and boogery."
"Boogery?" Felicity laughed.
"Totally. Just boogers everywhere." Sara's eyes flashed wide with humor, a giggle leaving her that made Felicity smile despite how sad she still felt.
"It's gonna be okay," Sara told her. "Sure, it sucks now, but that's how it is with sisters, right? One of us says something dumb, one of us cries, one of us beats up the other one with a couch cushion…"
Felicity scoffed. "That only happened once. You need to let it go."
"Are you kidding?" Sara scoffed. "You could've scrambled my brain, you were hitting me with that cushion so hard."
Felicity shrugged. "You were being a serious butthead to Laurel. It was my job to avenge her."
"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "She cried at the drop of a hat when we were little. One time I threw a teddy bear at her and she told mom I was beating her."
Felicity's mouth twitched. "In her defense, you did regularly cannonball on top of her whenever she was on the couch."
Sara huffed defensively. "Yes, but I never broke anything, so she should thank me for taking it easy on her."
Felicity laughed, her head falling back. "You're crazy," she told her.
"Totally. And you're never gonna hear me apologize for it either." Sara propped her head up on her hand and grinned down at her. "Now, come on, you're gonna make me breakfast, with extra bacon." Steamrolling over her, Sara landed on the floor in a crouch and hopped up to walk toward the bedroom door.
Felicity raised an eyebrow, turning over to see her. "Shouldn't you be making me breakfast to cheer me up?"
"Pfft. No way. I always burn pancakes, you know that. If anything, I'm doing you a favor letting you cook." With a wink, Sara walked out the door, just as awesome as she ever was.
With a laugh, Felicity let her head fall back, a faint smile on her lips.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she rubbed at her forehead. Saturday. Five days to get in as much time as she could. Because it wasn't Sara's fault. It wasn't even Laurel's fault, not really. She just… didn't fit there. That wasn't anybody's fault, right? Maybe some people just didn't have that place, that one place where they fit. But standing between Jennifer and Kelsey, arms hooked with theirs, that was as close to belonging as she'd ever felt, and she'd rather be there, with them, than somewhere she wasn't really wanted.
Tossing her blanket off, she rolled out of bed, pasted on a smile, and went out to meet her sister.
Felicity didn't get to see Oliver until that afternoon, after he'd finished school and she called him, asking him to meet her at the coffee shop. With only five days until it was all over, she figured she might as well enjoy them. And if there was one person who guaranteed a good time without any family drama (at least if she totally ignored the part where Laurel hated her for "stealing" him from her), it was Oliver. Besides, maybe when it was all over, she'd put in a good word for Laurel. Couldn't hurt, right? She could do that… Chances were she'd be seeing a lot less of her family in future, so maybe she wouldn't have to see the 'happy couple' together.
His car pulled up in front of the coffee shop, engine revving in a way she might've rolled her eyes at if it wasn't for the grinning guy looking at her through the window. "Hey," he called, "They were all out of horse-drawn carriages, but I'm here to pick up a princess anyway."
Felicity bit her lip to hide her smile as she walked over, pulling the car door open and climbing inside. "You're cheesy, you know that?"
"It's becoming clearer the more time we spend together that I'm made of cheese."
Shaking her head, she leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. "Well intentioned cheese, though."
"Glad I have some redeeming qualities then," he said, eyes dropping to her mouth. He sobered a moment later, though. "You sounded upset on the phone. What's up?"
She shifted in her seat. "Can we go for a drive?"
He nodded, his brow furrowing as he glanced over his shoulder before pulling back out onto the road.
Nothing was said for the first five minutes. She let herself relax into the passenger seat, fingers pressed to her lips as she stared out the window, watching buildings and people pass by. She watched lights turn from green to yellow to red, walk signs change to stop hands, flashing signals for cars to slow down and let pedestrians cross roads. She watched the world move all around her, a city full of happy, sad, busy, confused, bored, distracted, hopeful, excited people walking and driving through their lives, from one destination to the next.
"I had a fight with Laurel yesterday," she started. "It was… awkward and confusing and she said some things. Some not totally wrong things, actually. But they hurt, a lot more than I thought they would, and I… left. I just kind of walked around the city for, well, hours. Only partly because I didn't really know where I was or where I was going, so I might've gotten a little lost and spent some time walking through the park, at night, and that was creepy and totally not safe. And then the cops were there and my step-dad was bringing me home, and my mom was upset because I didn't call and I didn't stick around to figure things out. And yeah, that probably makes more sense, but… I've never had to do that. I… I've never had a family that wants to figure things out. Because at home, when my dad is upset, he leaves or I leave, and we never really talk about it again.
"And when I'm here, we never fight and I try really hard to be good and perfect and quiet because I want to come back. I want them to invite me back next time. And I don't want to be that kid that they don't want or that they forget about at Christmas, or that sister they just send a family Christmas card to. I… I don't want them to forget me. So I try really hard to be whatever they want me to be, and sometimes I guess that's hard on Laurel. So she… said some things. About how I get all of the attention and they all pity me and they have to make room for me and I just… I already felt like the third wheel, or, well, I guess the fifth wheel. Which actually makes a lot of sense, because there's four wheels on a car, and I'm the spare, right?
"So that was… hard." She swallowed tightly when her voice came out in a raspy croak. "And then Quentin was there and he told her to apologize and she… said I wasn't her sister and that… that really hurt. A lot."
Reaching up, she swiped at a tear tripping down her cheek. "So I left, because even if he got her to apologize, it wouldn't change anything. And she's not wrong. She's not. Because I'm not her sister, I'm not her family, I'm someone who visits and interrupts and I get in the way. And I know that. I've always known that. So I left, because I should've left a long time ago. Because I don't belong here. I don't. And it's so stupid that I wish I did. It's stupid and pointless and I don't know why I even do it. I don't."
He didn't respond at first, and the words just kind of rested in the air, thick and awful and full of pain.
And then she felt his hand, his fingers sliding between hers, and that reassuring squeeze that she felt in her bones and her heart.
The car pulled over to the side and she frowned, looking at the dirt it kicked up, briefly wondering where they were, and when all of the buildings and people had faded out of view. He pulled over and unbuckled his seatbelt and her belt and then he was pulling her hand, tugging her closer. And she turned to look at him, her eyes big and round and full of tears. He stared down at her knowingly, his mouth set in a frown, and he pulled her in until they were hugging, her face tucked into his neck. She thought about her sisters, about how Laurel or Sara would react. Maybe they'd be stronger. Maybe they'd brush it off. Maybe they'd tell him they didn't need comfort. But she buried her face down into the crook of his neck and gripped the shoulder of his shirt and cried, trembling and shaking and gasping big gulps of air.
He held her tight, his hand rubbing up and down her back, fingers stroking through her hair. He didn't ply her with empty words, he just held her. She leaned into that unspoken comfort, letting him soothe away the hurt and the uncertainty and the faulty confidence that was never quite as strong as she wanted it to be. She sniffled, resting against him, turning her head to rest it on his shoulder as his hands continued to rub, with her sitting half in his lap. She could almost fall asleep, her breath evening out, her tears slowly stopping to nothing, leaving only trails of misery on her cheeks.
[continue.]