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Chapter Text

Moira wasn’t overly concerned with the yelping and growling that had been coming from Oliver’s room for the past half hour. That was, however, only because forty minutes ago, he had walked past her as he hurried up the stairs of the Queen Manor, alone, with a duffel bag in hand. He had tried to sneak in from the back door, but Moira knew his moves by now, and caught him trying to creep past the living room. When she had asked what he was doing, he had squeaked back 'Nothing!'. It was almost as if he was trying to deliberately irritate her.

Moira didn’t exactly want to barge in - now she knew that Oliver was the Arrow, and everything with Thea and Slade had been sorted, and they were all happy-families again, she had agreed to give her son his own space.

But then an angry voice shouting Russian curse words echoed down the staircase, and Moira had had enough. She strode up to Oliver’s closed bedroom door and knocked twice before letting herself in without waiting for a reply.

She probably should have waited for Oliver to answer the door.

“Oh, Oliver,” she found herself sighing, her shoulders slumping.

Oliver was curled up on the floor at the foot of his bed, with some sort of sewing kit laid out in front of him. He had hastily covered up whatever he was working up underneath a towel that he had obviously been using to nurse the many bloody pricks in his fingers. Black thread was strung in his hair and tangled all over his body, and he was glaring down at the floor furiously.

Moira would have laughed… if Oliver hadn’t shot her a completely hopeless, kicked-puppy look, his eyes wide and horrified he had been walked in on.

“Mom!” he said in a rush, his voice coming out in a stunned stammer. He hadn’t anticipated her coming in, clearly. “I can explain -”

“You don’t need to,” Moira rolled her eyes. She grabbed one of his pillows from his unslept-in bed and settled it on the floor for her to sit on. She placed one of her hands gently on his own and questioned gently, “Why on earth would you try and sew when you know you don’t know how, Oliver?”

Oliver grumbled, picking a strand of thread off of his shoulder and trying to find the needle he had dropped on the ground. “Shado always made it look easy,” he scowled.

Moira brushed off that comment, knowing that he was referring to the island somehow, and they had an unspoken agreement that they would never ask about that place. “You could ask Raisa for help; I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

She couldn’t help but smile as Oliver tried to bat another piece of thread away from him with one hand, looking irritated.

Oliver’s face fell at her comment though. Moira hesitated and wondered where she had gone wrong. But then her son humphed to himself, seemingly coming to a decision, and he plucked the towel off of his work to reveal what it was. He picked it up in one hand and passed it over to her.

Moira looked down at his green Arrow jacket with a glazed expression over her face. She ran her hands over the thick fabric, feeling the strong body armour and the smooth leather and finally examining the hood, his famous green hood that looked as if it was worn and had been repaired over and over and over again by the same steady hands.

“Bullet holes,” Oliver said shortly. “Knife tears. Normally Felicity would do it for me, but she says I’ve gotta learn how to sew so if she's not there I can do it myself.”

Moira felt as if she should say she agreed with Miss Smoak and Oliver should learn how to sew his own torn clothes, but Oliver had shrunk into himself and looked so very helpless and vulnerable, as if he hated the fact that one simple task was enough to beat the fearless Starling vigilante.

“We will never speak a word of this,” she finally decided. “Especially not to Miss Smoak.” Then she picked up the sewing kit herself and threaded a needle, beginning to neatly stitch up the holes and tears.

When she finished, she packed the kit up and hung the Arrow jacket on a hanger to carefully check her work. But she didn’t need to; her work was flawless as always. She folded the jacket carefully, aware that her son was watching her from behind, and then packed it into his duffel bag, very pointedly ignoring the bow and small collection of green arrows that lay at the very bottom.

Moira smiled at her son as he remained seated on the floor stoically, leaning back against his bed, and she ruffled Oliver’s short hair. She was about to leave when Oliver managed to silently sneak up behind her and attack her with a tight embrace, burying his head into her shoulder.

“Thanks, Mom,” he whispered, and it was so sincere and full of emotion that it brought the traces of tears to Moira’s eyes.

She gently stroked the back of his neck as she replied, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Then, when she reached his doorway, she turned back and quirked her lips. “And don’t worry, your secret’s safe me with. Nobody has to know that the mighty Arrow can’t sew a cross-stitch to save his life.”

Chapter Text

Moira had always liked charity galas. They were fun yet elegant and always for a good cause. This charity gala she was attending was no different. Everybody had gathered to see how the newly-reformed Queen Consolidated was going to support the SCPD and support their tech development with new devices from Applied Sciences.

Moira was back to being CEO, which meant she was always constantly talking that evening. That meant she found out almost instantly when Captain Lance and the rest of the officers invited had to leave due to a hostage situation on the other side of the city. As soon as she heard, her eyes went searching for Oliver.

When Moira had stepped up as CEO, he had stepped back and allowed her to decide his position in the company, though he did warn her that his vigilantism would take up most of her time. Which was why, after consulting with a number of people, she had agreed to place both Oliver and Felicity as co-Applied Sciences Directors.

She quickly spotted the pair. Oliver was looking smartly dressed in a simple black tux, his hands clasped behind his back, and Felicity was wearing a stunning red dress with her hair done up nicely, curled and styled. Both were trying to desperately escape their conversation.

Which was, of course, only natural. Both Felicity and Oliver’s cell phones were ringing, and Moira suspected that they were recieving a lot of calls from Mr Diggle, Captain Lance, Sara Lance and Roy Harper.

“Ah, Mr Bournesmirth!” she greeted loudly, sliding seamlessly into the conversation. “Such a pleasure to see you again! I see you’ve already met my son and Miss Smoak here! Let me tell you, it is such a delight to see you here to support such a wonderful cause -”

Oliver was managing to slip away, dragging Felicity behind him by the hand as the blonde kept on glancing down at her phone in concern, but then another group of people swarmed them and pulled them in, fixing their claws into them..

Damn. Moira grimaced. This wasn’t working. Oliver’s hands were twitching, a clear sign that he was nervous, annoyed and itching to flee, and Felicity was shuffling and shifting and beginning to babble. They needed to get out of the gala. Those hostages were depending on it.

Moira did the only thing she could think of. She quickly pulled out her phone and texted Oliver:

I’m fine - go and save the hostages! Xox M.

Then she pretended to faint.

There was a few surprised ‘Oh!’s and several squawks of indignance as she went down on the floor, but Moira revelled in the fact that even when she was pretending to collapse, she was graceful in her descent. Everybody at the event flocked towards her in concern, providing the perfect escape route for Oliver and Felicity.

Moira proceeded to act as if she had gained consciousness and looked around woozily, blinking wildly as if she was disorientated, and caught a swift glimse of Oliver sprinting out of the hall with Felicity hot on his heels.

“Mrs Queen!” one of the board members exclaimed worriedly. “Are you alright? Do you want some water, should we call an ambulance?”

“No, I’m quite alright, Andrew,” she responded, taking his offered hand and standing, leaning against him for show. “I apologise, everyone. I’m not feeling very well…”

“Maybe you should go and sit down, Mrs Queen,” Andrew advised, still sounding very anxious for her as he led her towards a seat, the large group of people still crowding them. “I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you for the offer, Andrew, but I really will be fine. I think it would be wise for me to retire now… I should get some sleep.”

“Of course, Mrs Queen,” Andrew nodded hurriedly. “I hope you feel better soon, Ma’am.”

Moira arrived home that night with a smug smile on her face. As she closed the door behind her, Oliver appeared in the living room doorway, and he grinned amusedly.

“Taking one for the team, huh, Mom?” he teased. “Those were some great acting skills right there.”

“Oh, stop it,” Moira scolded, swatting him in the arm as she strode into the living room, taking off her coat as she went.

“No, seriously,” Oliver continued, following her and smiling. “We saved seven hostages tonight because of you.”

Moira levelled a stern look at him. “I’m not the one dressing up in leather, swinging from roof-tops and shooting arrows at people,” she said.

“You make it sound so unprofessional when you say it like that,” Oliver chuckled.

“Despite what you think, sweetheart, it isn’t professional. You’re always talking about it as if it’s your job, Oliver,” Moira rolled her eyes.

“But it is my job. We might have to use you for our cover stories more often. Digg and Roy agreed with Felicity and I when we said you deserve an Oscar for that performance.”

Moira whipped around, alarmed. “And how did Mr Diggle and Mr Harper see my ‘performance’ exactly?” she questioned with narrowed eyes.

Oliver’s grin only widened. “Security cameras, Mom. When they’re not revealing your secret identity, you gotta love ‘em.”

Chapter Text

So far, Moira had had a very stressful day. She had the board yabbering on at her as the CEO of Queen Consolidated and Thea had been pestering her about her birthday that was in two weeks time. So when Moira arrived home that evening, fully intending to sit back, relax, watch a movie and finish a bottle of wine, she did not expect to find THIS in her living room.

THIS was Oliver Queen giving Roy Harper archery lessons. In her living room.

Both were shirtless, only wearing loose-fitting pants, and Oliver had set up two wooden blocks with targets painted on them at the end of the room, on top of a priceless mahogany table. Oliver currently had his hybrid compound bow drawn to its anchor point, holding it in perfect form, looking calm and lethal. He was talking very slowly to Roy about focus and concentration and aim, coaxing Roy to do the same with his own bow and get a feel of the strength of the draw. Then the older archer released his arrow fluidly and it thudded into the bullseye of his own target.

Moira snapped.

“For god’s sake, boys, not in the house!” she shouted. “We have several acres of ground for archery practice; this is not a shooting range! You don’t need to do it indoors!”

Oliver lowered his bow and turned around to face her, and he did look reasonably sheepish as he scratched under his chin, reaching around his back to fish another arrow out of his quiver. At Moira’s glower, though, his hand fell back limply to his sides. Roy still had his bow drawn with an arrow and was staring very seriously at the target.

“Sorry, Mom,” Oliver said, though he didn’t sound apologetic at all. If he was sorry about anything, it was probably about being caught.

Moira closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “Here, Oliver? Don’t you have a perfectly good steel factory to shoot arrows in?”

“Felicity’s banned us from practicing in the Foundry because last time Roy shot her computer set-up, and there are a bunch of gardners outside in the garden that we can’t risk letting see us.”

“So you decided to let Mr Harper shoot arrows in my living room?”

Oliver shrugged. “Roy needs to improve for when he’s doing patrols.”

Moira felt like screaming at her son in frustration. “The fact that Miss Smoak is afraid to let him practice in your lair doesn’t give me very much confidence in his aim, Oliver!”

“Don’t worry!” Oliver reassured, grinning. “Roy’s direction is definitely improving!”

At that precise moment, Roy released his arrow from his bow and the arrow went slicing through the air. However, it was a few inches left of the wooden target board. The arrow hit straight into a large ornate flowered vase; smashed, it sent shards of ceramic flying across the room.

A beat of silence. Roy looked horrified as he dropped his bow. Oliver was shocked for a moment, then a look crossed over his face that could have been passed as terror. He mumbled a few Russian swear words under his breath.

“Not good,” Roy squeaked. “Definitely not good.”

Oliver seemed speechless for a moment, but then he grated out, “Maybe we should have taken Lyla’s offer to borrow that ARGUS training facility.”

Rage was boiling up inside of Moira, waiting to explode out towards the two boys, but instead, Moira found herself deflating defeatedly. “Well at least it wasn’t the blue one,” she sighed tiredly.

She carefully picked said blue vase up and wrapped it in her coat for safe-keeping. She was going to lock this one in the closet of her room until she was certain there were no more arrows in the house.

She couldn’t find it within herself to start yelling at the pair of them. They already looked guilty enough. “Next time you’re going to practice in the living room, Oliver, please, for the sake of your mother’s old heart, pack away anything that Mr Harper is likely to break.”

“... There’s going to be a next time?” Roy repeated, confused.

“Knowing my son,” Moira shot Oliver a glare. “There is always a next time.”

Chapter Text

Thea was working overtime at the club, and Oliver was out of the house, probably meaning he was on a mission somewhere, so that meant that Moira was alone for the evening. That didn’t bother her at all. She had lunch with Walter earlier on in the day, and then Captain Lance had formally thanked her at a press conference for QC’s Applied Sciences’ generosity to the SCPD’s tech division, so it wasn’t as if she hadn’t done anything. It relieved Moira to have a quiet night.

Of course though, the universe hated her. It ended up being not quite as quiet as she expected.

“Oh dear god,” she found herself exclaiming as she rushed towards the door. “Oliver, what happened!?”

Sara and Roy were supporting a barely standing Oliver. At the sound of his mother’s voice, Oliver’s head lifted and she could see the pain and exhaustion in his eyes before his head lolled back down again and he groaned lowly. All three of them, Oliver, Sara and Roy, were in their ‘work clothes’, though their masks and hoods had been pulled down to reveal pale faces.

“Lie him down, lie him down!” Moira said hurriedly, worry clouding her judgement as she rushed to grab several towels from the nearest bathroom and a first-aid kit.

She set the towels out over the sofa and Sara and Roy lifted Oliver onto it. It broke Moira’s heart to hear Oliver’s whimpers and moans as whatever injuries he had acquired were jostled.

Sara started undoing Oliver’s jacket, carefully stripping it off of him before she cut away his shirt with a penknife. Moira stepped back, startled and feeling nauseous; Oliver’s chest was literally covered in burn marks and slices from knives. There wasn't a scrap of skin left unmarred.

“We were investigating a human-trafficking gang,” Sara explained. “There were too many of them to take down, and since we don’t kill, Ollie got captured. They managed to torture him with a taser and a switchblade for around half an hour before we were able to extract him.”

“Oh god…” Moira couldn’t look at her son’s chest and raised a shaking hand to her mouth.

“He’ll be fine,” Roy tried to reassure her. “Except we couldn’t take him to the Foundry, ‘cause Lance and the police set up a road block to stop the traffickers getting away.”

Oliver coughed weakly and gazed up at them. “Didn’t wanna… stick ‘round and answer questions…”

Moira nodded quickly, threading one hand through Oliver’s short hair. “You were right to bring him here,” she said firmly.

Sara and Roy started setting up the medical equipment, examining the cuts and burns. Oliver’s head rolled to the side and he stayed silent; the way his eyes were scrunched up and his breath stuttered told Moira all she needed to know: Oliver was in pain. She had seen him running around with messed-up knee before without whining, and jumping across roofs with a bullet in his shoulder. How many times would these people have had to shock him with the taser to have him feel so much agony?

“You’re lucky, these don’t look like they need stitches,” Sara told Oliver with a small smile. “I’ll clean them with antiseptic but it’s gonna sting. It’s more the burns I’m worried about. How many times did they shock you, Ollie?”

“...Lost count…” Oliver responded, his voice so quiet and weak they had to strain to hear it. “After….forty seven….”

Sara swallowed and muttered something in Arabic. She glanced sideways at Moira and asked softly, “Could you support his head?”

Moira ended up sitting at the top end of the sofa with Oliver’s head in her lap as Sara applied gauze and burn-cream to the archer’s chest. Roy seemed to be on pain-management duty, as Oliver was squeezing his hand so hard that Roy’s face went white. Finally, when everything seemed sorted, Sara pulled out a blanket from under the sofa and gently laid it over him.

“It’ll be a while before he can fall asleep,” she told Moira, biting her lip. “Roy and I are heading back to Verdant, so just call us if you need anything at all. We’ll text you to warn you when Thea’s heading here.”

Moira nodded and clasped Sara’s hand tightly, trying to will back the tears that were welling in her eyes. “Thank you, Sara. For looking after my son. Protecting him when I can’t.”

“You protect him a lot more than you think,” was all Sara replied with, as she and Roy took their leave.

A minute later, Oliver stirred and he croaked, “Mom?”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” she soothed, rubbing his shoulder. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Oliver shuddered. “Don’t wanna fall asleep….” he muttered. “Gonna… gonna have nightmares again.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart. You don’t have to go to sleep. I’ll sit with you all night if you want me to. I’ll stay with you and keep you awake.”

Oliver shifted his whole form slightly so he was slightly more curled up next to her. “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered. “Sorry you had to...see me like this. Know you hate me going on missions. Know you hate… me being the Arrow.”

Moira had to surpress a sob. “Oh, sweetheart. If being the Arrow makes you happy, if being the Arrow gives you your purpose, then I can accept that. It’s when something like this happens, when you’re hurt and I am so… horribly helpless, that I hate your night-time extra-curricular activities. It’s as if you’re attracted to danger.”

“Yeah.” Oliver’s lips turned up in a faint smile. “That’s what ‘Licity says.”

“Well Miss Smoak is a very smart, very lovely woman, so I wouldn’t be one to argue with her, would I?” Moira chuckled lightly.

“Hmm.” He shifted again. “Might not come into work tomorrow, Mom.”

Moira laughed and stroked her son’s cheek. “Well, I think you deserve a day off once in a while. I’ll call you in for a sick day, shall I?”

“Hmm, yeah. Good idea.” Oliver reached upwards to grasp her hand and pull her arm down it was was resting lightly across his shoulder. “‘Night, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Oliver,” Moira whispered.

Chapter Text

Need you at Verdant. F kidnapped! O not doing well. - Roy

To say that Moira was alarmed when she receieved that text would be a huge understatement. Nevertheless, Roy was reaching out to her, and that meant that Oliver must be doing terribly. She ordered one of the hired security guards at the doors of QC to drive her to the club, and when he did so, without asking any questions, she rewarded him with a generous tip.

On entering the club, Moira’s eyes were immediately drawn to her son. Oliver was prowling about the club, pacing and growling under his breath, his face a blank yet deadly mask. Diggle and Roy were sitting at the bar facing outwards, looking concerned, and Sara was trying and failing to get Oliver to calm down enough to sit down.

“Oliver,” she called out.

Oliver froze and his eyes snapped to her. Instantly, Moira was able to see why Roy had asked her to come. Oliver’s eyes betrayed his emotions - right now, he was furious, concerned, nervous and terrified all in one.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver gritted out, and Moira tried not to be offended by that because, afterall, Felicity had been kidnapped. “Why are you here?”

“I heard about Miss Smoak being kidnapped,” Moira amended, glancing sideways at Roy to catch a glimpse of his relieved face. “And came here to see what your plan is.”

“There is no plan!” Oliver snarled. “I either pay the ransom or Felicity dies and I can’t - I can’t let that happen. I have to pay them, I have to -”

Oliver’s expression shuttered and he slumped, his head falling. His hands curled into tight fists again and he resumed his storming around the club, growling and muttering under his breath.

“I can see why you called me,” Moira threw sideways to Roy.

“Yeah. It’s kinda scary seeing him like this.”

“Do you have any idea where these poeple might be holding Felicity?” Moira questioned, though she knew it was a lost cause - if Team Arrow knew where Felicity was, they would already be storming over there, weapons ready and prepared to kick some criminal ass.

“Not a clue,” Diggle replied solemnly. “They took her from the back of Verdant. They wiped CCTV, left no prints or weapons; whoever these guys are, they’re pros.”

“QC business or Arrow business?” If it was QC related, they really should be getting the police involved, despite their obvious intent to keep it inside the team.

“We’re thinking both,” Sara responded, crossing her arms. “They contacted Oliver asking for money, but they also wanted him to pass a message on to the Arrow to get immunity in Starling.”

“How much money?”

Diggle wrote the number down on a waiter’s pad and passed it to her. Moira’s eyebrows raised. Wow. Even for her, that was a lot of zeroes. She handed the notepad back and then, shooting a glance back at the team, strode towards Oliver.

“Oliver, I think it would be best if you sat down for a moment,” she told him, in her best stern-soothing-mother voice.

Oliver was vibrating with internal anger, but as soon as Moira’s hands fell on his shoulders, she seemed to compress it, and the feral glint in his eyes died down. He nodded silently and allowed his mother to guide him towards the bar, where he hopped up onto a stool and clasped his hands in his lap. Diggle, Roy and Sara all seemed surprised at how much control she had over her son.

“Now,” Moira said calmly. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“I shouldn’t be sitting around,” Oliver murmured, a hint of the wolf’s growl still hovering at the back of his throat. “I should be coming up with a plan, paying out, saving Felicity -”

“And you can’t do that,” Moira interrupted, “If you work yourself into a state. Now, relax. Breathe for a moment. Clear your mind so you can focus.”

“This is stupid,” Oliver scowled, very much like a petulant child.

“Oliver,” Moira addressed him, in her warning voice.

Oliver glared at her through his eyelashes for a moment before he heaved a sigh and obeyed, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, the tension that had been radiating from his body trickling out of his muscles, until he was leaning back on the counter wearily.

“We…” he cleared his throat. “We contact the kidnappers. Tell them we’ve spoken to the Arrow and we’ll pay the money. They’ll suggest a drop off point and we say that we’ll only hand over the money if Felicity’s there. Digg’ll be on overwatch and Sara and Roy’ll support from the wings. If… if we all wear ear-plugs then Sara can take them out with the Canary Cry. Once Felicity’s safe and we’ve dealt with whatever forces these guys bring with them, we call Lance to do clean-up.”

Moira smiled and cupped his chin. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Oliver hesitated for a brief moment and then when he finally glanced up at her, his eyes were on the verge of shedding tears. He wiped at his eyes angrily. “I can’t lose her, Mom,” he choked out.

“And you won’t,” Moira assured, pulling him in for an embrace. “You’ll save her, Oliver, just like you always do.”

Oliver nodded in agreement and motioned for the rest of his team to follow him, but only after he pressed a short kiss to his mother’s forehead in thanks. As Moira watched Oliver stride off towards the entrance to their not-very-top-secret Arrow Cave, she smiled.

“Thanks.”

She looked around and saw Diggle standing just behind her. It gave her the fright of her life, as he was not a small man, but he had a knowing smile on his face, and his eyes were shining.

“Oliver doesn’t really let us help him out much,” Diggle said. “He tends to keep a lot of bad stuff cramped up inside of him. And when it does come out, he breaks down, and we’re not usually equipped to deal with that. For your first time rodeo, you did really well. Thank you, Mrs Queen.”

“This doesn’t mean whenever he throws a fit after missing a target you get to call me down to deal with it,” she found herself saying.

That made Diggle laugh. “Yeah, he does throw quite the tantrum. Bet you got enough of that when he was a kid.”

“Don’t I know it.” Moira levelled him with a serious look. “Good luck on rescuing Miss Smoak.”

Diggle grinned. “I think Oliver’s got it handled.”

And when moments later, Oliver stormed past, mask on, hood up, bow in hand and quiver strapped on, looking very much like a warrior heading out for battle, with Roy and Sara falling into rank behind him, Moira couldn’t help but smile.

Because yes, Oliver had it handled. Oliver could handle anything. Except, it seemed, when somebody stole his blonde IT girl.

Chapter Text

“Why did you stop killing, Oliver?”

It was a warm, sunny day in Starling City for once. It was also a national holiday, so nobody had to go into work. Diggle was visiting his god-son/nephew, Sara was spending the day with Laurel and Quentin and Roy had taken Thea to the beach. Which left Felicity and Oliver with nothing to do. This had upset Moira greatly, so she had invited Felicity around their house, as if she was a play-date for her son.

They were having afternoon tea outside, and Felicity had babbled an excuse that she needed to send an email to one of the lower-downs in the tech department at Applied Sciences, because as the co-Director, she actually had to do work (at this, she glared at Oliver, and Oliver shot her an innocent look).

So Moira found herself asking this question.

Oliver seemed to startle at it, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal how confused he looked. He questioned, baffled, “What brought this on?”

Moira shrugged. “I saw on the news earlier that they were talking about the Arrow taking down a new drug business and handing them over to the police, and somebody remarked about how you didn’t kill. I mean, I’m delighted my son isn’t murdering criminals anymore…but I was just wondering why that was.”

Oliver went quiet. He fiddled with his hands for a moment, and his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to draw an arrow from his quiver, and his eyes flickered over to where Felicity’s back was visible in the near distance as she waved her arms about wildly, trying to explain something to the person on the end of the line of her cell phone.

Noticing where his gaze travelled to, Moira pressed, “Was it Miss Smoak? I can guess that when she joined, and I presume she joined the team quite early on, she didn’t approve of the killing.”

Oliver slowly turned back to her. “She’s part of it,” he replied, and oh god, his voice was slightly raspy from surpressed emotion. What had Moira got herself into? Had she accidently fallen off the we-never-speak-about-any-of-this train? Had she mentioned one of the things-we-never-discuss?

“I’m sorry,” she felt the need to say. “I didn’t mean to intrude. You don’t need to answer, Oliver, and I didn’t mean to cause offense -”

“- Tommy. He - he’s the reason I stopped killing.”

Moira stopped suddenly. She repeated, “Tommy?” incredulously, but then she remembered something Laurel had said a long time ago. “You were there that night. You were with him when he died.”

Oliver was staring down at his hands. He didn’t look up. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and inhaled sharply, exhaling just as violently, as if breathing was difficult. “Yeah,” he responded lowly. “I was there.”

“...Did he know?” If Oliver had been with Tommy on the night of the Undertaking, then he would have been suited up, trying to take down Malcolm Merlyn. If Tommy hadn’t known before then, then he had found out in his last dying moments that his best friend was the Hood. Moira cringed at the thought. “Did he know you were the Arrow?”

“I was known as the Hood back then, Mom,” Oliver replied stonily. “And yes, he knew. He held a gun to my face and I had to reveal myself to him.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “I actually think if I hadn’t pulled my hood back, he would’ve shot me. He would’ve killed me, Mom.”

“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, sweetheart,” Moira whispered, setting her hand down gently on top of his.

Oliver stopped, as if he was considering the offer, and he cast a cautious glance towards Felicity. The blonde hacker was still talking animatedly on her phone, and it looked as if she wouldn’t be joining them for a long time.

“He hated me, Mom,” he murmured. He swallowed and elaborated painfully, “Tommy hated me. He called me a murderer, told me he wanted nothing to do with me. He said he wished I would’ve died on the island.”

“He didn’t mean any of it,” Moira tried to comfort him.

It was to no avail. “Trust me, Mom, when I say he meant every single word. He wouldn’t even talk to me. I tried to explain everything to him, but every time I even went near him he would look at me with this…. this disgust and horror. As if he expected me to kill him too.” Oliver clenched his fists. “And the truth is, if Tommy had got in my way, if he had compromised the mission… I probably would have.”

“Oliver, don’t say that,” Moira whispered, stunned. “You wouldn’t have hurt him, sweetheart. Back then you may have been in a dark place, leading a dark life, but you were still good at heart. You still cared about your family.”

“Did I?” Oliver retorted back. “All I can remember from back then was trying to avoid Walter, and not talk to Thea, and stay away from you. I got back from a life in hell, Mom, where I was tortured for five years, and I had this wonderful, amazing family trying to support me… and I just wrote you guys off as stopping me from striking names off that stupid list.” He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. “No wonder Tommy hated me. I was a horrible person.”

“You’re speaking rubbish,” Moira decided. “It’s as if you blame yourself for Tommy’s death. You don’t, do you?” At Oliver’s silence, Moira continued, “You shouldn’t, Oliver. Tommy went to CNRI that night to find Laurel. You did everything you could to save the city, and you saved a lot of lives that night.”

“I didn’t save Tommy.” Oliver scratched the back of his neck. “That’s why I stopped killing. His death made me realise that killing wasn’t right that - every person I killed after that dishonoured his memory.” He closed his eyes. “I guess I had this… weird idea that if Tommy was looking down at me from Heaven or whatever, and saw me killing…” He shook his head, as if shaking the thought out of his head, and then Oliver repeated a lot more firmly, “He hated me.”

“Stop saying that,” Moira ordered. “I can tell you now, Oliver Jonas Queen, Tommy Merlyn did not hate you. You were his best friend, and he loved you like his brother. If he acted that way after he found out your secret, it was only because he was hurt he wasn’t told or involved.”

“But that’s why I didn’t tell him!” Oliver whisper-shouted, glancing back at Felicity to make sure she wasn’t eavesdropping. “I didn’t want anybody to get involved, Mom. Not you, not Thea, not Tommy, not anybody. This life is dangerous, and I wanted to protect you from that. I wanted to protect Tommy from that.”

Moira smiled softly. “And you did, sweetheart. But I’m afraid you can’t protect someone whose had a building fall on top of them.” Seeing that Oliver was minutely shaking his head, Moira took his hand tightly. “Put it behind you, Oliver. Tommy wouldn’t want you to blame youself like this and he wouldn’t want you to dwell on it. He’d want you to continue saving this city, and he’d want you to do what felt right in your heart.” Seeing that Oliver had ducked his head and was holding back tears, Moira rubbed soothing circle’s on his hands. “The Hood, the hood-guy, whoever the vigilante was before the Undertaking - he died that night. That night, Tommy’s Merlyn left you your own Undertaking - to save the city while saving people, and not killing in the process. You may not have saved him that night, Oliver, but Tommy saved you; he saved your heart and your soul.”

Felicity had finished the call and was heading back towards them. Oliver pulled way quickly and violently scrubbed at his eyes to remove any trace of tears that had been building up there. As Felicity sat down again, Oliver muttered something about filling up their lemonade jug, snagged it, and practically sprinted off back into the house.

“Thank you.” When Moira looked at her curiously, Felicity resumed as she munched on a piece of shortbread: “Oliver’s blamed himself for Tommy’s death for too long. He won’t listen to any of us when we tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you just laid it on him pretty well. That’ll definitely stick in his head for a few days.” She licked her fingers of any remaining sugar from the biscuit. “Yoda-mother powers, I guess.”

“How -?”

Felicity looked embarrassed. “Would you kill me if I told you I faked the last five minutes of that phone call?” she whispered.

Moira laughed. “You’ll go far in the business world, Miss Smoak,” she promised. “Very, very far.”

Chapter Text

Moira truthfully really liked Felicity. Sure, they had had a few hiccups in their strange relationship at first, that included some blackmailing and threatening, but the woman eventually came to realise that Felicity made Oliver happy, and they genuinely cared very much about each other. That didn’t mean she enjoyed the way they danced around each other though. Felicity was very clearly in love with Oliver, and Oliver was definitely head over heels for Felicity, but they were always cautious around each other, not wanting to push their relationship from platonic to romantic.

“They’re ridiculous,” Thea said loudly one day, when she found Oliver and Felicity curled up around each other asleep on the sofa after a marathon of all the best films Oliver had missed while on Lian Yu. “Can they just get together already? I am literally on the verge of shoving their faces together to force them to kiss.”

“It would be best to let them come together on their own, Thea,” Moira told her firmly, fully aware that Thea would actually do that to get what she wanted. “Love can’t be forced.”

“But I wouldn’t be forcing love,” Thea whined. “I would be forcing two great people who clearly want to tear each other’s clothes off to finally get together!”

“Thea,” Moira said in her warning voice.

“Fine,” Thea sulked, heading upstairs to her room. “But seriously, the U.S.T. is killing me inside.”

When Moira walked in on Oliver and Felicity having an intense stare-off in the kitchen three days later, she ultimately complied and agreed with Thea that they had to do something about the two of them.

And so, Operation: Olicity was born.

“What’s Olicity?” Roy asked, dumbfounded, when Moira and Thea cornered the rest of Team Arrow in Verdant.

“It’s the ship name of Oliver and Felicity,” Diggle responded. At the stunned look Thea shot him, Diggle raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I’ve been on this ship way longer than you, kid.”

“I don’t just ship them,” Thea hissed. “I titanic them.”

“I don’t even want to know what you’re talking about,” Sara said. “But it if involves making the Oliver and Felicity U.S.T. into R.S.T., then I’m in. I swear they could set each other on fire with the intensity of their stares.”

“See?” Thea keened, pulling Diggle and Sara in to wrap her arms around their shoulders. “Digg and Sara get this. They’re definitely on Operation: Olicity. And Roy’s my boyfriend, so doesn’t get a choice. Now, here’s what I’m thinking…”

A complex plan was created. Moira would invite Oliver to spend the evening at a restraurant with her and order a table. Thea would invite Felicity to a girls night at the same restraurant and put her on the same table. Then they would all turn up at the same time and act surprised. Just before they ordered their first course, however, Moira and Thea would slip out individually, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone at the same table. Then Thea would tip the restraurant staff to turn the lights down low and put on mood lighting to make it a romantic atmosphere. Hopefully, that would encourage them to make a move on each other, and if that didn’t work… then Sara would steal Felicity’s car and swipe the keys to her apartment so that Felicity was forced to stay at the mansion house.

“And by the end of the night, BAM!” Thea threw her arms into the air. “Olicity is canon!”

It was a reasonable scheme. It would mostly be Moira and Thea doing the dirty work. Unbeknownst to Thea, Diggle, Roy and Sara’s roles in the plan were to cope with that night’s crime, making sure that the Arrow and his IT girl weren’t needed. When the night came, everything went by flawlessly. By the time Oliver and Felicity began to suspect something was up, it was nearing midnight and they had nearly finished their bottle of wine. The Olicity Team only knew this because Roy was squatting on the building opposite the restraurant and was peering in with binoculars, reporting everything into a comm.

“Oh my god. They’re gonna kiss!” Roy cried out. “Oh, wait. No, Oliver was just picking up his dropped fork. No, wait, they’re definitely gonna - false alarm, it was a dropped fork again.”

“This suspense is truly killing me,” Moira sighed, nursing a glass of wine herself.

“Tell me about it,” Thea snorted into her own, taking a delicate sip.

“THE SS OLICITY HAS SAILED!” Roy suddenly yelled. “IT’S SAILING. OH GOD, IT’S STILL SAILING!”

Thea leapt up, punching the air and exclaiming joyfully. They could hear Diggle’s shout of ‘finally!’ from his comm and Sara’s wolf-whistles.

“And it only took them three years,” Diggle laughed.

“Uhh...guys?” Roy interrupted, sounding nervous. “I think I’m in trouble - okay, definitely in trouble!” They could hear his panting from running and jumping over the line.

“Roy, what’s happening?” Thea demanded.

“Oliver and Felicity were leaving the restraurant and your brother just happened to look up at the right time and saw me!" It was almost laughable how panicked Roy sounded. "Oh god, not good, not good!" Then were was the sound of Oliver's very furious voice, but it wasn't clear what he was saying over the comm. They could, however, hear Roy perfectly. "-- Heyyy, dude! Fancy seeing you here! Whaaat? No, of course I wasn’t spying on you and Felicity! Whaaat? Don’t be ridiculous, man, of course we wouldn’t set you two up on a date!”

Moira was too busy laughing to hear what happened next.

Chapter Text

“Mrs Queen? This is Captain Lance. I just need to ask you a few questions about your son, if you don’t mind.”

Moira’s heart was sinking with every word. However, she was able to reply cheerfully, “Of course, Captain. May I ask what this is about?”

“If you wouldn’t mind answering the questions first, then I might be able to elaborate, Mrs Queen.”

Damn. Definitely serious. Like Arrow-business serious. Moira swallowed. “Alright, Captain. What do you want to know exactly?”

“Does Oliver have any tattoos of any kind?”

Moira paused. That was a weird question. She knew of three that Oliver possessed, but surely the police department knew that too; after all, when you were taken into custody you had all your distinguishing marks listed down, and that included scars and tattoos. Moira would have liked to see how long Oliver’s list went. It probably took a hell of a lot of time to write out.

“He does, yes,” Moira replied into the phone, settling down onto the sofa and leaning back because she could tell this was going to be a long conversation.

“Could you describe the tattoos he had for me, please? I know this must sound strange, but there’s a reason, I assure you.” Captain Lance was being perfectly civil, and sounded calm.

Moira thought back to the few time she had seen Oliver shirtless. “Well, he had a dragon on his shoulder, I can’t remember which one, but it’s a red and blue type dragon, done traditionally I think. Then he has some Chinese lettering down the side of his abdomen. Oh, and a star, there’s a sort of star-like tattoo on his chest, just above his heart.”

“Just one more question, Mrs Queen: did Oliver have any of those tattoos before he left on the Queen’s Gambit in 2007?”

Moira closed her eyes. “No, he did not. If that’s all, Captain, then please, why are you asking me these questions about something that, frankly, is quite personal and intrusive to Oliver?”

There was a brief pause, where the rustling of paperwork could be heard, and a few incoherent barked orders, but then Captain Lance was saying lowly, sounding very apologetic, “I’m very sorry, Mrs Queen, but I’m going to have to ask you to bring Oliver down to the station immediately. One of the tattoos he possessed, the star-like one you pointed out on his chest, is affiliated with the Bratva.”

Moira repeated, “The Bratva?”

“The Russian Mob, Mrs Queen. I’m sorry to intrude on your day, but you need to get Oliver down here as quickly as possible. I have a couple of officers prepared to forcibly arrest him if you don’t comply.”

“Of course, Captain Lance. We’ll be there as soon as possible.” Hanging up, Moira exhaled slowly and sat in frigid silence for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what she had just heard.

Then, she gracefully stood and marched her way up to Oliver’s room, entering without even knocking. Oliver was at his desk, typing up QC Applied Sciences official papers while at the same time, he was crafting an arrow, the materials spread all over the floor.

He looked up in confusion. “Mom, I’m working.”

“Captain Lance wants us to come to the police station.”

Immediately, Oliver’s expression warped into one of worry and fear, and he jumped out of his chair, already grabbing his coat. “What happened? Is it Thea? Felicity? Roy?”

“No, he just wants to talk to you.” Oliver paused, turning back around, now looking baffled again. “He seems for some reason to think you’re associated with the Russian Mob.”

“How did he find out?” Oliver responded swiftly, frowning.

Horror overwhelmed Moira’s mind. “You’re not saying his suspicions are true!?”

“Did I not explain to you about the Bratva when I told you about the island?” Oliver grimaced when Moira’s terrified look didn’t fade. “Apparently I forgot. Look, Mom, you see this -” He pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the star-like tattoo that was connected to the Mob. “This is the mark of a Captain of the Bratva. I saved the leader of the Mob’s life, and in repayment he gave me one of the highest ranks in his organisation.”

“But you don’t… get involved?” Moira couldn’t imagine all of the terrible crimes the Bratva would have committed, and what appalling businesses they supported; drugs, human trafficking, prostitution, slave labour... “I mean you don’t… help them with their work.”

“What? No, Mom, of course not!” Now Oliver looked offended. “How could you even think that?”

“I don’t,” Moira lied. “But Captain Lance does.” She checked her watch. “We need to meet with him soon otherwise we’ll have a SWAT invasion on our hands.”

Diggle was waiting with a sleek black Mercedes for them. Oliver was fiddling with the cuffs of his coat as he stepped into the car, and Moira slid in alongside him, not meeting his gaze. If Diggle was surprised at where they were going, he hid it well. He also must have sensed the tension, because he didn’t say anything, just drove them silently.

“I don’t understand how you could be a Captain of the Bratva, Oliver,” Moira finally said, still in denial.

“Mom, it’s a very long story, and I promise you, I will tell you all of it, but not right now, okay?” Oliver replied grimly. “Right now, I’m trying to think up excuses for why I have this tattoo that don’t involve saving the Bratva leader’s life.”

“Why not, man?” Diggle asked back to them. “It’s a plausable explanation. Especially if you say you didn’t know how important he was at the time.”

“Yes, but then I would have to get into detail about Ivo and the freighter,” Oliver answered, annoyed. “And most of that doesn’t make sense if I edit Sara out of the story. And Sara doesn’t want her family to know she ended up on Lian Yu with me.”

“Well, you got scars,” Diggle offered. “Use them, man. If you tell Lance it was a form of torture, he won’t ask too many questions.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Moira interrupted, trying not to let her rage show in her voice. “Oliver, this is a serious matter. If Captain Lance truly believes you have connections to the Russian Mob, then telling him that they put that tattoo on you as a form of torture will not sway him. He can be a very stubborn man.”

“Don’t I know it,” Oliver mutterered under his breath, before he continued a lot more calmly, “Mom, Lance and I have spoken many times. Digg’s right, bringing up the tattoo as a form of torture will make him uncomfortable.”

“I want it on record that I don’t approve of this,” Moira scoffed, turning to glare out of the window.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to. You just have to play along.” Oliver paused. “Can I at least trust you to do that? You’re not gonna out me just because I have a star tattoo, are you?”

“Sweetheart, of course not.” Moira sighed in exasperation, turning back to face him. “I would never do that. You trusted me with your secret and I don’t plan on betraying you like that.”

“We’re here,” Diggle announced.

Oliver nodded, then glanced back his mother, slipping back into casual-CEO-billionaire mode. “Don’t make a scene. Act like this is normal.”

“Oliver, I have been to the police precinct many times before,” Moira rolled her eyes, clambering out of the open door and accepting Diggle’s helpful hand as she brushed down her clothes. “Mostly to bail you and Tommy out after you had one too many drinks.”

“Oh yeah, and don’t mention that,” Oliver hastily added as they crossed the steps. “Lance remembers that only too well.”

Moira remembered it only too well also. Hopefully this time, this trip to the precinct wouldn’t end in Oliver coming home in handcuffs.

Chapter Text

“Felicity - it’s your birthday! And I want us to celebrate it!”

“Look, any other time, I would agree, but we have too much going on with that gun-dealer we’re trying to take down for Lance. It doesn’t matter Oliver, it’s just celebrating the day that I was born.”

“And that’s exactly why we should celebrate it! The day you were born, the world got infinitely better and brighter.”

“Stop trying to butter me up so I agree to letting you have a party!”

“At least let me invite your mother here for a few days.”

“No way! You must be joking!”

Moira and Thea had got used to hearing Oliver and Felicity bickering all over the house. Every since the two had finally got together after many months of nudging from all sides, Felicity had partially moved into Oliver’s room in the mansion, if only because Moira insisted on it. That meant that they now were exposed to Felicity’s…. Felicity-ness most days of the week.

“Mom!” Oliver exclaimed as the pair entered the kitchen, Oliver dragging a disgruntled looking Felicity by the hand. “Do you or do you not agree when I say that Felicity should have a party for her birthday on Thursday.”

Thursday was four days time. It would be easy to set up a celebration. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“And do you or do you not agree that we should invite Felicity’s mom over to celebrate with us?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Moira smiled, and Thea nodded enthusiastically beside her, not speaking due to the bacon she had just stuffed into her mouth.

Felicity whined, “Stop ganging up on me, it’s not fair! And we have too much going on to have a party!”

Thea swallowed her mouthful of bacon and pointed her fork at the blonde. “I’m sure if you told Captain Lance that it was your birthday, he wouldn’t mind if you took a few days off working the gun-dealer case,” she suggested. “He’d probably want to be invited to the party, actually.”

“We aren’t having a party!” Felicity tried to insist.

“We can hold it here!” Moira smiled, turning to Thea. “And I’ll pay for your mother’s plane ticket to fly here, Felicity. Oliver really is right, your mother should be here to celebrate with us. I can invite her to stay over for a few days, maybe even a week if she would like!”

At that, Oliver blanched slightly, looking a little more nervous. “Er, Mom, a week’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense! It would be a pleasure to have her! I’ll arrange a ticket for her now, and have Raisa set up one of the guest bedrooms.”

“No, no, no,” Felicity shook her head urgently. “You don’t understand. My mom freaked out when she heard I was dating Oliver, and she freaked out when she heard I was living in this house. There is no way I am letting her anywhere near any of you, especially not for a whole week; she’d traumatise you.”

“Felicity, dear, my son whom I thought was dead for five years runs around at night in tight leather, shooting criminals with arrows; my daughter’s boyfriend is his sidekick and I occasionally find them both in my lobby covered in blood,” Moira deadpanned. “I don’t think I could be traumatised any more.”

“This is a bad idea, I don’t like this idea,” Felicity moaned, pulling on Oliver’s arm and tucking her head under his chin. “Why do you have to be so nice? Why can’t you just ignore my birthday? Oh god, don’t you dare get me a big expensive present; I don’t want presents, I don’t want this party and Oliverrr, you said you’d stop me if I started rambling!”

Oliver leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” he said softly. “Everybody deserves to enjoy their birthday, you especially.”

Felicity grumbled. “Fine. I’ll have a party. But that means when it’s your birthday, mister, no arguing. You’ll have a party too, and lots and lots of presents that don’t involve arrows and leather.”

“Noted.”

………............................................................................................................................................................................................................

“I’m in the Queen mansion,” Donna whispered in awe as she entered the large double doors, clutching at her heart and dressed in a very revealing blue cocktail dress. “I feel so under-dressed! Are you sure this dress is okay, ‘Lissy?”

Felicity grunted as she lugged her mother’s massive suitcase up the porch stairs to the doors. “You look fine, Mom,” she answered. “Stop worrying. You don’t have to wear a tux or dress to come here.”

“‘Lissy, darling, I really think you should have worn something a little smarter,” Donna said worriedly, still gazing around with wide eyes as she ran a hand down the wooden banister.

Felicity looked down at her black skinny jeans and Doctor Who top in annoyance, heaving her mom’s suitcase onto the first step of the grand staircase and panting in exhaustion. Her mom was there for a week, but her suitcase felt like she had packed for a month. “Mom, I live here! I don’t have to dress up everytime I walk through the door!”

Moira appeared from the living room with her usual casual grace and smiled happily at the pair of them. “Ah! You must be Felicity’s mother, Donna! I’m Moira Queen, I’m so delighted you were able to come to Felicity’s birthday party. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Donna looked a little dazed as Moira clasped her hand with a smile. “Oh no, trust me, it’s my pleasure!” she replied enthusiastically. “You have such a lovely home, Mrs Queen!”

“Please, call me Moira, and thank you, Donna,” Moira beamed. “I’ll show you to your room and then, I believe, I’m heading out to buy some new decorations. Would you like to join me?”

Felicity looked horrified as Donna agreed eagerly, “Oh of course!”

Arms snuck around her waist, and Felicity tilted her head back slightly and smiled when she realised Oliver had appeared ninja-style behind her and was pressing a kiss against her head. She instantly relaxed in his arms, an easy grin gracing his lips.

Donna cooed on seeing the man, rushing over to envelop Oliver in a tight embrace, openly marvelling over his muscles and figure. Oliver stiffened and shot his mother and Felicity helpless and slightly terrified looks, gulping in nervousness. Donna ruffled his short hair and keened, “Oh, and here’s my future son-in-law! You’re so strong, Oliver! You must work out quite often!” She gave his bicep another squeeze. “Wow, rock solid. Must be great for holding people down, if you know what I mean.” Donna gave Oliver a cheeky wink while the archer looked mortified and then embarrassed.

“Mom!” Felicity yelped.

Thea laughed from where she was standing just above them on the stairs, leaning over the banister. “Your mom’s awesome,” she called down to Felicity.

“More like disturbing,” Felicity muttered back, but without much heat. She was secretly pleased that Moira, Thea and Oliver had overruled her when she said she didn’t want her mother in Starling. It was great seeing her again.

As Moira and Donna moved up the stairs, chatting animatedly, Thea dashed out of view, cackling like the lovely/evil little sister she was. Glancing once to check nobody was spying, the archer tugged Felicity flush against him, kissing her briefly, winding an arm around her hips before he broke it off, humming in contentment, mouth against her hair.

“Oliver, sweetheart, could you please bring Donna’s suitcase up here please?” Moira called to them from out of view. “You can kiss Felicity later when we’re not in the house, preferably when you’re both in a locked room.”

“On it, Mom!” Oliver shouted back, quickly turning back to peck Felicity once on the lips before he moved away to the stairs, grabbing and lifting the suitcase onto his shoulder as if it barely weighed anything.

“Why did you make me agree to this?” Felicity groaned, but she was smiling as she did so.

“Because you love me and I threatened to take away your tablet and laptop if you didn’t?”

.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................

“They’re so adorable together!” Donna gushed as she and Moira headed down into yet another Chanel shop. “Your son is so polite and charming, Moira! You raised him perfectly!”

“And your daughter is possibly the loveliest, most caring woman I have ever had the fortune of meeting. You are very lucky to have such an amazing daughter, Donna.”

“You know, I’ve been telling ‘Lissy forever that she needed to gather her courage and get with that boy,” Donna said, testing a perfume. “Whenever I’m on the phone to her, I swear, it was was always ‘Oliver this’ and ‘Oliver that’ or “Oliver’s shirtless in front of me and I can’t concentrate so please help distact me’.”

“Oliver’s the same,” Moira agreed, sweeping around the corner, laden with shopping bags. “It makes me wonder why Olicity didn’t happen sooner, to be honest.”

Donna frowned. “Olicity?” Then her expression lightened. “Oh, it’s one of those shipping names they have for celebraties who are together. Like Brangelina! Olicity. Ol-ic-ity. Oli-city.” She rolled the name around her mouth, and beamed gleefully. “It’s perfect. We should put that on the wedding invitations.”

Moira laughed. “Somehow I don’t think Oliver and Felicity would approve. But I think I have an idea.”

……………………..............................................................................................................................................................................................

“Your mom and my mom are thick as thieves,” Felicity told Oliver as the party was in full swing. Oliver was leaning against the doorway, smiling as he watched his family and friends interact from a distance, and Felicity had just pulled away from Barry and Cisco to approach him. “Seriously, I’m really afraid they’re planning something.”

“Planning what?” Oliver turned to glance over to where Moira and Donna were in deep discussion.

“I don’t know. And I don’t like not knowing,” Felicity huffed. She leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. For a moment, there was comfortable silence, then the blonde’s hand reached for his. “Thanks for doing this, Oliver,” she said quietly. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Oliver’s face softened and he looked down at her, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. “You’re very welcome.” Then he caught sight of his mother and Donna moving over to where Thea and Roy were. “Okay, they are definitely planning something.”

Ten minutes later, after Moira and Donna had spoken to just about everybody in Team Arrow and Team Flash, Oliver and Felicity snuck up to Diggle from the side, to where he was talking to Lyla and Caitlin.

“What’re our mothers saying to everyone?” Felicity asked worriedly. “They’re not telling embarrassing baby stories, right? Because there is no way I would ever be able to live that done if Roy brought one up in the Arrow Cave.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them,” Caitlin reassured. “They’re just spreading a little gossip about.” Seeing Oliver’s alarmed look, she added, “It’s nothing bad. Let’s just say they’re really, really happy that you two finally got together.”

“Oh god,” Felicity moaned, her head dropping to Oliver’s shoulder.

“That was literally the least reassuring thing you could have said, Caitlin,” Oliver deadpanned, but he looked nervous.

“Hey, they’re proud of the ship,” Diggle shrugged. “They’re just having a bit of fun, let them be.”

“Your definition of fun is different to my definition of fun, John,” Oliver growled.

“Yeah, you’re definition of fun is shooting high-speed tennis balls,” Lyla commented. “John and I have really interesting pillow talk.”

Felicity groaned again, and even Caitlin and Oliver raised their eyebrows at that. Diggle just grinned. Felicity dragged Oliver away so they were standing in the corner of the room together.

Barry came up to them moments later. “Your moms are running an Olicity campaign,” he told them, sounding adorably confused. “They want us to sign a sheet thing where we have to swear to keep you two together for life.”

“You’re not serious.” Oliver looked at Barry and his jaw dropped. “Oh god, you’re actually serious. They’re actually -” He ducked away and stormed towards where Donna and Moira were chasing Captain Lance around the open bar with a clipboard.

“You know what,” Felicity said. “I cannot bring myself to make a fuss out of this. This is Oliver’s fault, he wanted my mom over for my birthday. Which was really, really nice of him, and he’s a great boyfriend for doing it, but next time… we’re not letting my mom and his mom go anywhere unattended.”

Chapter Text

“Mom, could you ask Raisa to prepare a guest room, please?” Oliver’s voice was rough and abrupt, and Moira could tell her son was speaking through gritted teeth. He was obviously annoyed, angered and frustrated.

“Of course,” Moira replied, confused. “May I ask why, Oliver?”

Oliver made a small noise. “We have a certain speedster coming to stay for a few days.” In the background, Oliver snapped at somebody gruffly, and then said something softer that Moira couldn’t hear. He continued back into his phone, “I’ll explain when we arrive.”

When Moira opened the door, Oliver and Diggle were both supporting the one and only Barry Allen. The speedster was still in his Flash suit and seemed to be covered in blood. His left leg was splinted, as was his left wrist, and he was favouring his entire left side. Oliver was gripping his bow in his free hand, hood down and mask around his neck, and his face was a cold, stony mask.

“Argh,” Barry groaned as the archer and his partner quickly and carefully carried him inside the house, Roy and Felicity swiftly closing the doors behind them.

Moira sighed as she led the group into the living room. “Why is it that my boys always end up injured in some way?” she muttered tiredly.

“Your boys?” Diggle raised an eyebrow.

Moira didn’t reply, instead opting to lie out the towels on the sofa and puffing up a pillow, so Diggle and Oliver could position Barry so he was lying down. The speedster gave another low moan of pain as he was laid down, his head tipping backwards.

“Ohh, I really wish morphine worked on me right now,” Barry groaned. “Meta-human hyper-metabolism sucks.”

“You poor dear!” Moira said softly, crouching down beside him to ran a hand through his hair sympathetically. “I’ll go and fetch you some blankets, you poor thing, and how I about I get you some chocolate milk, hmm? Oliver always likes chocolate milk when he’s injured.” Moira bustled out the room.

Barry watched her go, smiling at Oliver. “Your mom’s getting me chocolate milk,” he said. “I really like your mom, Oliver.”

The archer didn’t seem to hear; Oliver was pacing back and forth, growling, “When I find who did this to you, Barry, they’ll wish they were dead!” he hissed. “Nobody hurts my team.”

“Hey, do yourself a favour and relax,” Barry grinned shakily.

“I can’t relax, Barry!” Oliver scowled. He kept on switching his bow between his hands, his boots wearing holes in the carpet. “That meta-human could have killed you,” he bristled.

“But he didn’t,” Roy butted in, grinning. “Ain’t nobody gonna catch the Flash.” He offered a high-five to Barry, but the speedster raised one eyebrow motioning down to his broken wrist. Roy grimaced. “Oh yeah, sorry, forgot about that.”

Moira rushed back in with a pile of blankets in her arms and a big glass of chocolate milk. She tucked the many blankets around Barry’s body, making sure he was comfortable after handing him the chocolate milk. Felicity watched, looking as if she was trying to hold back laughter, Roy and Diggle just watched with WTF faces, but Oliver just rubbed his eyes tiredly, huffing as if this was normal.

“We’ll get the guy, Barry,” Diggle reassured him.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Barry replied, taking a sip from his chocolate milk, amused as Moira continued to fuss over him. “I just hate the thought of you guys handling this meta without me; you guys deal with the drug-dealers, human-traffickers, mobsters and stuff, but it’s my job to deal with the criminals with super-powers.”

“That is kinda what we called him over for,” Felicity pointed out. At Oliver’s glare at her, which did not hold much heat, but nevertheless still was quite scary, she added rapidly, “But I’m sure you guys’ll handle it just fine without him. Despite the fact that this guy is telepathic and telekinetic and basically, tele-anything, so you’re really, really out of your depth and I’d really hate for one of you to end up hurt because we underestimated him, which is what Barry did. No offense though, Barry, because you put up a great fight and it was very entertaining to watch. And oh my god, I need to learn when to shut up.”

But Felicity’s spontaneous ramble had some effect. The tension eased out of Oliver’s shoulder and he gave a small smile, shooting her a warm look. They exhanged nudges in each other’s sides. Felicity beamed back at him.

“Aww, group hug,” Barry said. He tried to sit up, but then went completely pale and fell back again, taking a shuddering breath. “Okay, not such a good idea,” he said weakly. “Ollie, my leg is killing me. You’re sure it wouldn’t be better if I just lopped it off now?”

Oliver rubbed his shoulder soothingly. “I’m pretty sure, Barry. Caitlin said you just need to keep the splint on for two days, so that means you’ll be staying here. By then it’ll be healed enough to start phsyical therapy.”

If it were even possible, Barry paled further. “Oh god, please don’t tell me it’s physical therapy with you as my instructor.” Catching sight of Oliver’s face, Barry winced. “Okay, but no shooting with me in the back with arrows this time?”

“Oliver!” Moira shouted pugnantly, looking appalled and furious with her son. Oliver shrank back slightly. “That’s such a horrible thing to do to your friend. I don’t see you shooting arrows into Roy when you’re training, do I?”

“Well there was that incident where he shot me in the leg last year,” Roy mentioned casually.

“Dude, he shot you in the leg?” Barry repeated incredulously. “Why?”

“Apparently he was protecting me. Which I was fine with, because I admit, I was kinda looking into some stuff Oliver told me to stay out of.” Roy shrugged.

“Was that when Oliver called me over to deal with that massive wound in your leg?” Diggle questioned. At Roy’s nod, Diggle started chuckling, “Man, he pulled that arrow out of your leg himself.” His phone beeped. “Aw, sorry guys, I gotta go. Lyla’s arriving back from an ARGUS mission tonight and I promised I’d meet her at the airport.”

“Could you drop me off at the office as you go?” Felicity questioned, shouldering her handbag. “I would stay, Barry, but I’ve got some reports for QC Applies Sciences due in tomorrow.”

“Go ahead, I’m not going anywhere.” The young man tried to give a grin, but it came out weak, as if he wasn’t happy he was stuck on his backside until his broken leg healed.

Felicity pressed a kiss to his forehead and Diggle patted him on the shoulder before they departed together. If Oliver’s eyes lingered on Felicity’s back as she left, nobody mentioned it.

“Looks like I’m stuck here for a few days then,” Barry said, not unhappily, but his expression was kinda blank, as if he was unsure whether or not he should be happy or sad about the arrangement.

“We’ll make you as comfortable as possible,” Moira promised, smoothing down his blanket. She grabbed his empty glass and hurried off to fill it with more chocolate milk.

Barry shot Oliver a questioning look. The archer sighed. “She doesn’t get to do this often,” he explained. “Whenever we get hurt, we always just go to the Foundry and patch ourselves up, so she never gets to worry or fuss over us. So when she gets the chance…” He inclined his head towards where his mother had vanished.

Barry shrugged. “I don’t mind. As long as I get chocolate milk, I’m good.”

Chapter Text

Moira didn’t know what was happening exactly; there were bullets flying everywhere, the glass windows of the QC boardroom were shattering, everybody was screaming. Walter, who had just been hired as QC’s financial director, had pulled her down underneath the table, and was clutching her to his chest, but Moira was desperately trying to look around for any sign of Oliver and Felicity.

Captain Lance’s voice roared the SCPD’s arrival, and the number of gunshots increased, bullets hitting everything in sight. But then more masked men appeared, with large guns, and Lance and his force were falling back, officers falling all around them as they tried to get the board members to safety.

A muzzle of a gun was cocked in Moira’s face and she was about to cry out, but then Oliver appeared out of nowhere and slugged the guy in the face, leaping upon him in fury. Oliver Queen, co-Director of Applied Sciences had vanished and left the Arrow in his place, as the archer fought hand-to-hand combat with the attackers, still managing to be lethal and deadly even dressed in a confining Armani suit.

Lance ducked down beside Walter and Moira, and must have yelled something about following him to safety as a bullet skimmed his hair, because Walter was hauling her arm, still protecting her with his body as a shield, running them out of the room.

However, in all her confusion and fear and horror, Moira tripped over a fallen chair and fell away from the group. She whipped around, unable to focus on one place as flying bullets clouded her vision. Moira staggered to her feet and began stumbling back towards where Lance was beckoning.

“MOM, GET DOWN!” Oliver roared.

It was as if everything was in slow motion. One of the masked attackers slowly turned around, gun pointing at her, and was about the take the shot. Silence fell in Moira’s ears as her eyes slipped closed, calling prayers for God to protect her children.

A gunshot fired. The man about to shoot her collapsed. Every last one of the masked men had fallen, some unconscious, some injured, some dead. All due to Oliver. The SCPD swept into the room, handcuffing the men still alive or injured by the bullets, covering the dead attackers with sheets, ushering the QC board members away from the scene. But Moira only had eyes for Oliver.

He stood as still as a statue, looking down at the man he had just killed with a bullet to the head, horrified. His arms were limp at his sides, and her son began shaking as he dropped the gun. It clattered to the floor amid the shards of glass. A myraid of emotions flew over him: horror, then shock, then fear and then finally, devastation as he realised. He had just killed. He had broken his promise to Tommy, once again, and he had killed somebody.

Moira tried to reach out to grasp his arm, pull him into her for a reassuring embrace, but officers were guiding her away. Felicity was nowhere to be seen; she wasn’t there to provide comfort for Oliver, to deal with the fallout, and Oliver needed somebody beside him. She tried to protest, but the officers just kept on telling her that they were taking her downstairs to an ambulance to be looked over, and everything was fine.

But nothing was fine. As the officers dragged her away, Moira’s heart clenched in distress as she watched a violent tremor force Oliver to his knees in front of the dead man, his eyes closing as he bowed his head. Lance was kneeling beside him and taking his shoulders, talking to him, but Oliver wasn’t listening to him as tremors wracked his form.

“You don’t understand!” she screamed furiously at the EMTs as they tried to sit her down and keep her seated on a chair, trying to check her for cuts and grazes. They refused to let her go. “I need to find my son!”

A frenzied, horror-struck voice echoed through the air, crying out, “OLIVER?! Where are you!? Oliver!” It was Felicity. She rushed past, panicked and agitated, and another EMT was chasing after her, trying to catch her and epically failing as he ended up face-planting the floor. Felicity ducked and weaved around the army of EMTs swarming her, yelling, “OLIVER!”

Noticing her looking, the EMT offered, “They’ll try and take her to hospital. She got grazed in the side while Mr Queen was trying to get her out of the room.”

After a moment of her struggling to get away, batting the medical team’s hands away from her in irritation, Captain Lance swam into Moira’s vision as he crouched in front of her.

“Is she injured?” Lance asked the EMT gruffly.

“Not as far as we know,” the EMT answered quickly, nervous. “But we would like to take her to hospital just to get her head checked -”

“Then I think you should go focus on the people who have actually been hurt in this attack. Mrs Queen may be shaken, but she’s physcially fine. You’re dismissed.” The EMTs hesitated. Lance levelled a glare at them. “Dismissed.”

The EMTS finally cleared and backed away, with a few quick instructions to seek medical attention if she noticed anything wrong in the next few days. Lance watched them leave, eyes narrowed.

“Thank you, Captain,” Moira said shakily.

“Come on,” Lance offered Moira his hand, his expression grim and sad. “I think your son needs you right now.”

Moira rushed to stand and followed Lance through the maze of police cars and ambulances, striding straight past where the press had set up, waving crazily at her. They were entering a quieter space, with less officers and medical people.

“Oliver was incredibly brave,” Lance said quietly, leading her around the corner to where his own police car was parked. “Had some great moves back there, took down those guys like it was nothing. Seemed utterly calm while doing it too. Kinda like a certain archer I know.”

Moira stopped in her tracks and, seething quietly, she hissed, “Do we need to have a conversation, Captain?”

“Not right now we don’t,” Lance shook his head. Lifting her head, Moira gave him a short nod in respect and resumed walking alongside him. “There.” The Captain tilted his head, grimacing.

Oliver was seated in the open boot of Lance’s cop car, legs dangling down and a thick blanket wrapped around him. He was hunched in on himself, and looked completely miserable, heart-broken and guilt-ridden at the same time. He flinched when Moira and Lance approached, but Moira could see the sheer exhaustion that tensed his body like a live wire. He was bound to break any moment.

“Oh sweetheart,” Moira breathed, drawing him into her chest and embracing him tightly, refusing to let go of him as she absorbed his trembling and rubbed the back of his neck soothingly.

“I killed him, Mom,” Oliver whispered, his voice tormented and so very tired.

“I know, Oliver,” she replied quietly. “But it’s alright, sweetheart, you did it in self-defence, you saved my life. You didn’t have a choice.”

There was a silent pause, where only one of Oliver’s heart-wrenching sobs could be heard, and then Oliver choked out as if it pained him, “Mom, I killed him. I told Tommy - I said I wouldn’t kill anymore. I - I broke the rule once for Felicity but I swore I wouldn’t - I told myself I wouldn’t again. And I did. I killed him, Mom. I - I’m a murderer.”

Moira recoiled as if struck. “No, Oliver,” she said, still hugging him tightly, tracing circles on his back. “You’re not a murderer. You’re a hero. You saved my life, sweetheart. That’s all that matters.”

Oliver finally let go. The quiet whines and trembling transformed into the spilling of tears and louder sobs of anguish and grief as he clutched at his mother desperately as if he was a needy child.

Moira managed to turn her head back to face Lance, who had been standing a few metres way and very pointedly looking in the opposite direction. “Can you please try and find Miss Smoak?” she asked him in a hushed tone. “She was back near the ambulances.”

Lance nodded. “Of course.” He slipped away silently, leaving mother and son alone.

Moira planned to stay with her son until Felicity arrived. She remembered how Felicity had once told her that Oliver had broken his no-kill pact for her, when the Count had been threatening her, and back then it hadn’t hit him as harshly. Or maybe it had, Felicity reckoned, but he didn’t show it. Here, Oliver was too exhausted to even bother hiding.

By the time Felicity ran in ten minutes later, practically sprinting around the corner with Lance on her heels, Oliver had settled slightly and was simply slumped on Moira’s shoulder, his breaths still shuddering and shallow, exhaustion taking over. It pained Moira to see how easily he fell away from his mother’s comfort into Felicity’s arms.

Lance drove them back to the mansion, Moira in the passenger seat with Oliver curled up on Felicity’s lap in the back. It only took five minutes of Lance’s gentle driving to lull him to sleep. Every time he whimpered or shifted restlessly, Felicity would whisper to him soothingly or run a hand through his hair, and the archer would fall silent, contented. Moira’s heart ached; she wished she was in Felicity’s position, but she knew that the connection between the vigilante and his IT girl was not one that could be substituted.

“I hope he feels better soon, Mrs Queen,” Lance said as he walked them to the door. His eyes lingered worriedly on Oliver’s back as Felicity helped him up the stairs, out of sight. “He’s a good kid.”

“I know,” Moira nodded. She held her hand out, and Lance shook it briefly. “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate what you’ve done for us today.”

“Yeah,” Lance’s eyes finally broke away and met Moira’s, and they were filled with warmth. “If you or - “ he paused, “Oliver’s team need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call. Hell, I need to get outta that office sometimes.” He dipped his head before driving off.

When Moira checked on her son, he was curled up under the covers with Felicity beside him, legs and arms tangled. Felicity looked up at her when she stuck her head around the door, and both quickly exchanged smiles.

‘Thank you’, Moira mouthed.

Felicity shook her head and mouthed back, putting emphasis on the words, ‘Thank YOU’.

Moira closed the door quietly behind her, satisified that Oliver was in good hands. She might not always be around to help him, but when she was, she made sure she did a good job of it.

Chapter Text

It was Team Arrow’s evening off. Every month, the team would just drop everything; their current missions were put on hold, any leads were stored away, and weapons were hung up for the night. Apparently Captain Lance was aware of this monthly event, as he sent out much larger patrol forces to deal with crimes in the Glades.

That was how Moira ended up hosting a Team Arrow dinner at the mansion. Oliver had mentioned offhandedly a few days prior that their monthly free-day was coming up, and they were planning to go to Big Belly Burger and catch a movie or something. Moira, horrified, threw that idea in the bin the moment it arose. She invited Diggle, Felicity, Roy and Sara around that night to join Oliver and Thea in a Lost marathon.

They thought that was hilarious. They couldn’t wait to see how many times Oliver shouted at the TV at the inaccuracies of being stranded on a deserted island.

“Oh, come on! It is not that easy to catch prey in real life!” Oliver complained loudly, frowning. “It would have heard a twig snap or something, but it should have been so easy for that guy to spear it!”
Luckily the episode ended soon after that, leaving Oliver grumbling and everybody else amused.

“Ooh, wait up!” Felicity called out, just as they were going to start a new episode. I’m just gonna change into PJs.” She vanished into the bathroom and came back five minutes later with her hair down in a striped tiger onesie. Nobody noticed, but Oliver instantly stiffened.

Moira couldn’t help but laugh on seeing her. Felicity beamed, as if that was the reaction she had been hoping for. Seeing everybody’s questioning glance towards her, Moira explained, “When Oliver was a child, he was terrified of cats.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Oliver instantly denied.

“Don’t try and deny it, Oliver,” Moira replied. “You were terrified. Remember that kitten Thea brought home when she was five?” Oliver shuddered. “You almost had a heart attack when you found it in your bed!”

Roy thought this was hilarious. “You were scared of cats? Dude, cats are adorable! They’re all cute and fluffy and cuddle with you in bed and-”

“-Claw your face off and scratch your hands and legs,” Oliver bit off, sounding a little angry and bitter. He glanced away, looking frustrated, biting his lip.

Sara brought a hand up to her mouth to contain her laughter. “You’re still afraid of cats, aren’t you?”

“No!” Oliver responded too quickly, still hesitant to allow Felicity in her tiger onesie near him.

“Oh my god, you’re still scared of cats!” Roy was in fits of laughter. “Aw man, that’s so funny, big bad Arrow terrified of kittens! Spread the word to the criminals of Starling, wanna avoid the Arrow’s wrath, throw a cat on him!” By this point, everybody was amused.

“It’s not funny!” Oliver snapped, but that only made Roy laugh harder. Oliver averted his eyes and fiddled with his hands, his expression becoming closed off. “Roy, it’s not funny.”

Felicity reached for his arm to try and reassure him, but at the same time, Roy made a wailing cat sound. Driven by terror, Oliver pitched forwards off the couch and combat-rolled into a crouch position at the entrance to the living room. Their company couldn’t help it; Roy, Diggle, Sara and Moira all started laughing at the adverse reaction.

None of them saw how much Oliver was shaking as he rose from his crouch so he was standing. None of them noticed how his trembling hands began playing with the hem of his shirt, or how his eyes became glazed and shuttered, his body angling itself away from them, or how his breathing stuttered. However, Felicity did.

“Guys,” she muttered, trying to catch the others’ attention. When they didn’t respond, she yelled, “GUYS!” Everybody fell silent. “It’s not funny to laugh at somebody when they’re scared of something,” Felicity said quietly. “And you have to remember that there’s always a reason for that fear, and no fear is unfounded.”

Moira’s expression instantly morphed into one of horror and she stood, shooting her son an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I didn’t think.” Seeing that everybody’s eyes were on her, she explained, “Oliver was scratched by one of my friend’s cats when he was six years old. It took four stitches to close it.”

“So what, a cat scratched you once and now all cats are evil?”

Oliver took on a defensive look and replied back to Roy, venom in his voice, “You don’t like needles!”

“Dude, that’s low! That is seriously low, using my fear against me! I actually have a reason to be afraid of needles!” Roy argued. “Tetanus shot when I was eleven, needle wasn’t sterilised so I got an infection. You see, that’s a proper reason! One cat giving you a booboo doesn’t cause somebody to start avoiding cats like they’re the plague.”

“Yeah, man, there’s gotta be another reason than that!” Diggle agreed.

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Oliver snapped suddenly, his defensive posture turning inwards so he was shrinking away from them, looking as if he wanted to flee.

“Hey, hey,” Sara stood, hands out placantingly. “Don’t shut us out. We just want to understand. We’re sorry if we upset you before. But Roy’s shared his fear of needles with us, and I freely admit that boats still freak me out. I think you owe us an explanation, Ollie.”

The archer hesitated, as if he wanted to tell them, but wa still internally debating with himself. “It’s not a nice story,” Oliver said quietly, still not quite looking at them.

Felicity huffed and replied, “They almost never are, Oliver.”

Felicity reached forwards and gripped his hands. Oliver flinched and tried to avert his eyes to anywhere but her tiger onesie. The blonde in response took hold of his chin and forced him to turn and look at her. Immediately, the archer started trembling again.

“It’s the tiger, huh,” Felicity murmured.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, but his voice cracked as he closed his eyes.

Felicity squeezed his hands. Silence reigned around them, as if everybody else was holding their breath. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she told him in a soft voice. “But you might feel better if you do.”

Oliver turned his head away and took another stuttering breath. There was a brief moment in which nobody moved, and there were only gentle breaths sounding in the air. Then, the archer pulled away from his friend, and began stripping off his shirt.

One he was bare-chested, he wheeled around so they were all facing his back, and lifted one shoulder, stepping forwards with his left leg. The position and shifting of his muscles highlighted and revealed extensive scarring stretching across his spine and right side. Everybody’s eyes widened as they realised: they were animal claw marks, very specifically, a tiger’s claw marks.

“I know I mentioned… working in Hong Kong with Waller for a while,” Oliver muttered. “While I was there one of our… my missions was to infiltrate an illegal trading organisation and collect enough evidence to give to ARGUS so they could shut it down. One of the items they were trading in was animals. Specifically, big cats for circuses. I got attacked by a tiger while collecting the evidence.”

“Jesus, Oliver,” Roy said, so quietly and with so much regret it was surprising.

Oliver yanked his shirt back on and collasped on the couch, picking up the remote. “It’s fine. Really, it’s okay. I don’t particularly want to talk about it. I just -” He still couldn’t look at Felicity.

Felicity shuffled towards the doorway, understanding dawning. “Hey, it’s okay, I’ll just change into other pyjamas,” she smiled.

“You don’t have any other pyjamas with you,” Oliver said, and his eyes shot downwards to his hands again, guilt and shame radiating from him.

“I have a spare pair you can use,” Moira offered.

“See? It’s no problem, Oliver.”

Ten minutes later, Felicity returned to the room in normal, flowery pyjamas, and Moira in her own silk pair. Oliver instantly deflated and pulled Felicity down to sit next to him on the couch, entwining their hands. Breathing a sigh of relief, Oliver sat back and nodded at Diggle to start the episode.

No night was uneventful for Team Arrow.

Chapter Text

“Please, Mrs Queen, Mr Queen, sit down.” Captain Lance waved at the chairs opposite his desk, hastily trying to order paperwork and tidy his desk, clearing empty coffee mugs and take out boxes. It was clear that Lance viewed his workplace as his secondary home. “Sorry ‘bout the mess, don’t often get time to clean up ‘round here when you have the whole police force to order about.”

“It’s alright, Quentin,” Moira replied, actually looking amused at the mess. “And please, this may be official, but you can call us by our first names. We’ve known each other for a long time.”

Lance cracked a grin. “Yeah, seems like only yesterday your kid was saving Laurel from the evil monkey bars.” He settled down into his own chair and began clicking a pen, scanning over what paperwork lay in front of him. “I’ll try and get this done quickly, I know you probably have stuff to get back to, considering you’re running a Fortune-500 company and all.” He glanced up to where Diggle was standing silently in the corner.

Seeing where the captain’s gaze averted to, Oliver tried to look sheepish and commented, “Extra security’s kinda a given after you’ve got kidnapped several times over.”

“I can imagine,” Lance chuckled. Then his expression grew serious. “Okay, right, so according to this… and this happens to be your distinguishing features and marks page from the last time we arrested you, and your hospital records.” He gazed at Oliver intently. “You have a Bratva tattoo.”

Oliver did his best to shrink slightly, to seem less-threatening, and gave a humourless, bitter chuckle, looking down at his hands. “Yeah,” he replied shortly. “Though I didn’t exactly know that until you told my mom.”

“You didn’t know you had a Russian Mob tattoo?” Lance questioned flatly, his whole expression screaming disbelief.

Oliver shrugged carelessly, squirming under the captain’s stare. Moira had to admit, her son was an outstanding actor. “No? I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly… interested to find out what it represented when I got it.”

“And when did you get it?” Lance was writing notes carefully, keeping the paper angled away from their eyes, now not even looking at them as he questioned them.

Oliver inhaled sharply and looked away. That caused Lance to glance up, looking a little confused and concerned. Oliver twitched and closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, the sky blue was distant. He could win an Oscar, Moira thought dryly, as she prepared to assume her role in the act, which they had discussed on arrival.

She laid a hand on her son’s kindly and said softly, “I know you don’t like talking about it, sweetheart, but it’s for your own good. Once you’ve told Captain Lance, you won’t have to speak about it ever again.”

Horrified understanding came over Lance’s face, and he instantly shot Moira an apologetic and guilty look, as if he understood what they were talking about. “Your mom’s right,” he said to the archer quietly. “This’ll be confidential. It won’t leave the room.”

Oliver took a shuddering breath and turned his head back to them, clenching his hands into fists on his lap. “I got the tattoo on the island,” he answered hollowly. “I know I always say that I was alone there but I...wasn’t. For one, Lian Yu was being used as a Chinese high-security prison for high-risk prisoners, and secondly, there were several groups of different mercenaries using the island as their base of operations as sorts. I ended up running into quite a few people while there. Some were good and they...helped me with things but most of the people I met were… not very nice at all.”

He paused for effect and swallowed. Moira squeezed his hand encouragingly. Lance had long ago stopped writing notes and was listening intently, but very carefully kept his mask expresssionless.

“I got this -” Oliver brushed his fingers over his shirt, where he knew the tattoo resided beneath, “Second year. I got captured by mercs again. I didn’t understand a thing they were saying; they were speaking Cantonese. They kept me prisoner for a few days, not for any purpose but then one of the guys came up to me one day. I actually was pretty sure then that they were gonna kill me; I hadn’t given them any information on the island or anything they were interested in, and there was no point in keeping me around so…” He trailed off and pretended to shrug nonchantly, but was fully aware that it looked like he was spacing out, trying not to get attached to the memory. “Then that guy gave me this tattoo and they let me go.”

There was a brief silence in which Lance realised Oliver was waiting for his next question, and wasn’t planning on continuing. The captain cleared his thought, obviously a little torn up with emotion from the retelling, scribbling quickly on his paper with his pen.

“Why’d they give you the tattoo?” Lance questioned, but this time it wasn’t blank, and revealed some of his emotions: disgusted at what had happened to him, horrified and sad at what he had suffered through and guilty that he had pressed the matter.

Very impressively, Oliver closed his eyes and ducked his head. Moira clutched hid hand again, still playing the role of supportive mother. There was a moment where Oliver glanced at her, as if he didn’t want to answer the question and was hoping she’d find a way out of it for him, but Moira nodded once and rubbed circles on his hand. It must have seemed realistic, because Lance shifted in his chair uncomfortabley.

Oliver replied, his voice low and haunted: “I think they were hoping that the wrong people would see it and hurt me for it.”

“... and did they?”

Oliver flinched and responded shortly, “Yes.”

“Quentin…” Moira said quietly, and she knew what it sounded like. All at once, a short plea for him to stop distressing her child, a warning that he was going too far and a threat that if he didn’t stop soon, there were going to be consequences.

“Okay. Okay.” Lance seemed to want to stop himself as well, looking slightly nauseated. “I’m sorry, Oliver, just a few more questions and then we can put it away and never touch it again. Were the people who were angry that you had the tattoo Russian?”

Oliver choked out as if it pained him, “Yes. I - I don’t speak Russian.” His eyes shut again. “That’s what I kept telling them. They were asking questions but I couldn’t - I couldn’t answer because I don’t speak Russian.”

“Does the name Anatoly Knyazev mean anything to you?”

Oliver internally debated for half a second. He did know Anatoly, and he didn’t think he would be able to lie well enough to pull off the I-don’t-know-who-you’re-talking-about vibe. Finally, he replied hesitantly, “Yes, he was the man who eventually got me released from the Russians. They held me - tortured me - for five days and then he arrived and told the men to let me go.”

Lance seemed amazed. “Did Knyazev say anything to you? That you understood, not in - not in Russian.”

Oliver looked unsure. He made a small noise and glanced sideways at Moira again. Moira rubbed his back and shot Lance a frightened look. Even Diggle had taken a step forwards at the quiet sound of distress.

“I’m not - I can’t say,” Oliver said, with a sense of urgency. “He told me not to say, I’m not allowed to say!”

“Hey, okay kid, calm down, you don’t have to tell me.” Lance held his hands up peacefully in the surrender position to try and calm down the worked-up archer.

“I think that’s enough, Captain,” Moira bristled, standing and placing a hand on Oliver’s shoulder protectively.

“Yes, I think you’re right, Mrs Queen,” Lance agreed, standing also. He looked down at Oliver apologetically. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t realise it would be so heavy. I’ll get it smoothed out.”

“Thank you, Captain Lance.” Oliver resumed his quiet passive act, pretending to be shaken by the questions as he stood to shake Lance’s hand politely.

As Moira and Oliver made their way back to the car, Diggle trailing behind them, Moira shot Oliver a quick glance. She saw that Oliver had fallen back into his CEO-persona, with casual smiles and a straight back. It was incredible how he so easily switched between them, but also alarming to her mother-instincts.

“Maybe you should give up vigilantism and become an actor,” Diggle said when they clambered into the car.

Oliver shook his head, pointing at him. “Stop it,” he said warningly. “Felicity and Roy will never let me live this down.”

“Neither will I,” Moira said. “I’m guessing absolutely none of what you just told Captain Lance was true. I’m expecting an explanation when I get home, mister.”

“And you’ll get one,” Oliver reassured. “But first,” he sighed and sat back in his sea, stretching his arms. “Digg, could we stop by the club quickly? I think some Russian vodka would make this a much easier conversation.”

Chapter Text

Oliver looked up, confused, as Felicity stormed into their shared office at QC Applied Sciences HQ. She dumped her bag and jacket on her chair and grabbed the back of his chair, turning him away from the computer set up so he was facing her.

“Your mom just called,” Felicity said angrily, crossing her arms and glowering down at her. “And you know what she just told me?” Oliver just blinked at her and tilted his head. His adorable baffled look made the blonde deflate slightly. “Oliver, it's your birthday.”

“It is?”

Felicity looked so sad then that it made Oliver feel uncomfortable. “Yes, it is, Oliver. It’s your birthday. You're 31. How could you not know it was your birthday?”

“There weren’t any birthday celebrations on the island, Felicity.” Oliver swivelled back around to resume his typing on his report. “It just didn’t seem important. And for the last few years, I was so focused on being the Hood and Arrow that I didn’t care.”

Felicity leaned over him and wrapped her arms around his chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. Oliver smiled and turned to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Well, you’re not on the island anymore,” Felicity said, her voice muffled by his neck. “And you’re definitely not the Hood. And you should know that we’re going to properly celebrate your birthday this year. We’re having a massive party, and lots of cake and presents, and you’re going to socialise with your friends and family and take a day off of Arrow-duty. And you don’t get to argue.” She raised her head.

Oliver sighed and squeezed one of her hands. “You’re gonna hock me about this until I say yes, aren’t you?”

“Uh huh. We had a party for my birthday, now you have a party for yours.” She kissed the side of his head before pulling away. “Now, your mother generously gave me the day off, but not you, because you’re not allowed to see the house until this evening. So stay here, finish up these reports and then Digg and Sara will pick you up at five.” She flashed a grin, poising in the doorway. “Happy Birthday.”

Oliver shot her a cheeky smile. “Do I get a birthday kiss?” he asked playfully.

Felicity pretended to debate that, humming, then as she ducked out of the office, she replied waftily, “Maybe tonight. The party’s theme is green. And bring your bow!”

“My bow?” He repeated incredulously. “What exactly do you have planned?”

Felicity’s answering laughter echoed down the hallway. Oliver couldn’t help but grin in anticipation. After not having a birthday party for nearly seven years, he was looking forwards to this one, mostly because he knew it wouldn’t be mindless and stupid like his pre-island playboy parties, where thousands of people he didn’t know would turn up. If Felicity was planning this party, it would be personal, and fun and he would enjoy it.

The hours passed remarkably quickly. He was just finishing his last report when Sara knocked on the glass door and poked her head in. “Hey,” she called, smiling. “Happy Birthday. I have your suit here.” She held it up, in a black bag to keep it from getting dirty.

Oliver stood, closing down his computers and taking the offered hanger, turning to his private bathroom. “Are you going to give me any hints about the party?” he questioned.

“Nope. Get dressed. Digg’s waiting downstairs.”

It was a simple black suit, with a white shirt and dark emerald green tie. It was reasonably easy to move in and as he slipped his retractable bow into the jacket inside pocket, found a small black velvet box inside. As he opened it, he grinned.

First present of the night. Happy B-Day, bro. Thea xx.

It was a pair of handsome cuff-links. They were in the shape of arrows; silver with gold platings, and the arrowhead and fletching had dark green malachite chips embedded in them. They shone in the light, and they were such a thoughtful and personal present that Oliver’s heart swelled and he mentally noted that for Thea’s birthday, he would have to get her something really, really good next year.

When Oliver emerged from the bathroom, Sara had changed from her casual jeans into her own party clothes. She was now wearing a short black skirt with a lacey sleeveless green top and green heels.

“Looking good, mister,” Sara said, nodding in approval. “Got your bow?”

“I still don’t know why I need to bring my bow!” Oliver exclaimed as the pair headed down in the QC elevator to the lobby. “Felicity said I was off-duty tonight. Speaking of which, who is on Arrow-duty tonight?”

“Barry managed to pull in some favours with some of the nicer meta-humans,” Sara told him. “He says they're trustworthy, and they’re happy to watch over Starling tonight. Besides, my dad found out its your birthday and decided to double patrol forces tonight. Felicity invited him, you know.”

Diggle was waiting at the doors in his own black suit and green tie. He nodded when he saw the two of them and took them to the Bentley. As Oliver slid inside, and Sara hopped in next to him, Digg got into the driver’s seat. It barely took fifteen minutes before they were cruising down the gravel driveway of the Queen mansion. Green fairy lights were strung up everywhere; on the trees, on the porch, even framing the doorway. It wasn’t exactly subtle, and Oliver winced.

They entered the house, but the lobby wasn’t decorated. Sara ordered him to wait sternly as she was Diggle strode ahead into the living room, where an eerie green light was glowing from. Oliver held his breath and forced himself to relax.

Felicity swept out of the room to greet him, and the archer instantly became breathless. She was stunningly dressed in a sleeveless emerald sequin dress that shimmered with every step, and her hair was loose and curled slightly just like she knew he liked it. A malachite arrow pendant hung from her neck and she had silver arrow earrings in.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed as she approached and pressed her lips to his lovingly, resting her forehead on his for a second before pulling away.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Felicity threw back with a wink. She took his hand and dragged him towards the living room. “Come on. Your party awaits.”

As they entered the room together, the small crowd inside burst into a rapid and hasty rendition of happy birthday, applauding and cheering as the birthday boy arrived. Oliver found himself breaking into a wide grin, that he knew would stay on his face for the whole night. Seeing all his friends and family wearing his colour, the dark emerald green, felt oddly relieving. It was as if they were honouring him.

“Getting older and older, big brother,” Thea teased, hugging him as he and Felicity merged into the crowd to begin conversation. She caught sight of his sleeves and beamed. “See you like the cuff links.”

“I don’t know where you found them, but they’re perfect. Now I feel bad, because the only think I’ll be able to get you to measure up with this would be a new car.” He looked around the room in amazement, at all the green drapes and fairy lights. “Did you do this?”

“Mom and ‘Licity helped. Now come on! You’re the guest of honour, and everybody is here to talk to the birthday boy. Go and make the rounds and then we’ll begin the grand act. You did bring your bow, right? ‘Licity said you would.”

“What is it with everybody and my bow?” he laughed.

Felicity and he talked to everybody that night; it was weird seeing Roy in such a smart suit, with his hair done, and even stranger to see Captain Lance wearing his signature colour. Even Team Flash were there, Barry, Caitlin and Cisco conversing with Team Arrow easily, and Walter had come with a bottle of premium scotch. After around half an hour, Thea danced up to him, beaming with smiles.

“It’s time, bro,” Thea said. “Grand show.”

The group migrated outside onto the patio. Thea motioned for him to get his bow out, and as he transferred his bow from his right hand to his left in confusion, Laurel appeared with a massive basket of tennis balls.

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” he found himself laughing. Felicity grinned at him. “We agreed I wouldn’t be doing the tennis ball exercise anymore, since I can train with Roy and Sara.”

“I know,” Felicity said smugly. “But I know you really enjoyed it. And it always made you look really badass. So…” She handed over his full quiver. “Show these guys what you’ve got, my spectacular boyfriend.”

Shaking his head, amused, Oliver strapped his quiver on and positioned himself in the centre of the patio so he was facing a brick wall that framed the rose garden. Laurel and Sara prepared to tip the bucket of tennis balls over. Breathing in and out, Oliver slipped into archery mode and nodded as the signal.

The tennis balls were released. The fluid motions of archer, bow and arrow began, his movement almost a blue as gracefully and faster than lightning fired arrow after arrow after arrow, he drew and fired, hitting every single tennis ball dead-centre and pinning it to the brick wall. After around a minute, all the tennis-balls were hit, but there was still one arrow left in his quiver.

Realising what it was, he turned ninety degrees towards the garden, clicked the tiny button on the shaft to ignite it, drew the arrow to his bow and fired it seamlessly into the sky. After a second, high above the house the arrow exploded into an array of beautiful, stunning fireworks, sending sparks and zips of green lightning across the black night’s sky.

Embracing Felicity, and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, her arms wrapped around him, with his friends and family at his side, they stood and watched in admiration as the colour of the Arrow was splashed across the midnight.

It was certainly a birthday to remember.

Chapter Text

A large packaged envelope came through the mail one Monday morning. It was a normal envelope, but its contents were thick, and it was addressed to Oliver Queen. Moira knelt and picked it up curiously. She knew she probably shouldn’t open it, but curiosity got the better of her, and she grabbed a letter opener from her study and sat down in the living room to open the envelope.

It certainly wasn’t what she expected.

Inside was a very detailed and very alarming ARGUS file all about Oliver Queen. The first few pages were personality and ability profiles, with pictures and lists of preferred weapons, and psychiatrist reports that made her breath stutter.

Severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (see pg.23). Anxiety disorder (NOTE: often rubbing of fingers of dominant hand, archer's stress). Prone to anxiety and panic attacks, sensory overload, flashbacks, violent nightmares. Severe phobia of open water (See pg.42). Severe phobia of storms (See pg.44).

The next pages described how they discovered him, half-dead on an exploded, sinking freighter off the shores of Lian Yu, and how they had rescued him and forced him to become what basically described her son as an incredibly powerful weapon.

Next up was a page labelled pressure points. Moira’s breath caught in her throat. There were pictures, of her, of Thea, of Tommy and Laurel and Quentin Lance, and Walter Steele. Each one was labelled with their names, and their addresses, jobs and daily routines. ARGUS had been following them, spying on them, and from what Moira read from the report, threatening them, all so they could have Oliver Queen as their personal weapon.

Lists of completed missions and targets followed, and Moira retched when she realised that one of Oliver’s intented targets had been Tommy Merlyn, and sobbed in relief when she read the witness account of a man called Maseo Yamashiro who described how Oliver had got Tommy off his tail without killing him.

What really shocked Moira was the Alpha-Omega mission. It very clearly listed in the file that Oliver Queen had returned to Starling City and ARGUS had used him to access the Queen Consolidated mainframe. There was nothing personal about it, simply listing how the schematics of the mission played out, and how the mission was a success.

“Mom? What are you doing?”

Moira glanced up quickly when she realised Oliver had emerged from his room and was now standing in the doorway of the living room, looking confusedly at her.

His eyes fell on the file in her hand and his expression morphed into one of complete horror and utter guilt. “Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice strained with contained fury. “Why are you reading that? Mom! Give it -”

Oliver darted forwards and snatched the file out of his mother’s frozen hands, grabbing the envelope and stuffing the file into it. It was hard to read his face, as once again his blank, emotionless mask took over. Except now, Moira understood why he wore it; Oliver’s supervising ARGUS officer had explicitly expressed how Oliver’s inability to suppress his inner thoughts, emotions and opinions comprimised his status as a ghost agent, and how he had been viciously training ‘the asset’ to turn himself into the ultimate machine.

“You came back,” was all Moira found herself saying, almost whispering it. “You came back to Starling City, with those ARGUS people and you could have found me, you could have contacted us and you could have come home -”

“No, I couldn’t.” Oliver’s voice was quiet as he carefully sealed the envelope, smoothing over the edges and creases. “I wanted to, Mom. I swear, I wanted to. But they threatened my family. And I wasn’t gonna let you guys suffer because of me.” He tucked the sealed envelope into his jacket.

“You were so close. You were here, you were in the QC building; hell, you were in my office, Oliver! I could have walked in and saw you sitting at my desk.” Tears were filling her eyes.

A smile quirked Oliver’s lips. “I thought you were going to at some point,” he admitted. “I was warned about a breach, that I was going to be interrupted. I wanted to be interrupted. But it wasn’t you.” He turned his head and laughed. “Of all the people… the universe really does like playing around with me sometimes.” He turned back to her, and he was grinning. “It was Felicity. She rambled about me. She said I was cute. I think that was the first time I smiled since the island.”

“I’m sorry,” Moira said, standing and pulling him into her tight embrace, breathing in his musky smell and committing it to memory, in case her son was snatched from her cruelly once again. “I should have realised. I should have found you and saved you from those horrible people.”

“Mom, you didn’t even know I was in the city,” Oliver hugged her, voice muffled by her shoulder. “And I got told that if anybody found out I was in Starling, they were gonna hurt you, Thea, Tommy, Laurel -” Oliver closed his eyes and drew away, inhaling sharply.

“Please tell me you at least saw one of us,” Moira whispered.

Oliver closed his eyes, ducking his head slightly as he smiled. “I saw Thea,” he confessed. “I kinda stalked her for a bit. She went to a party at Tommy’s.”

Moira’s heart throbbed. She remembered that party. It had ended extremely badly, with a poor boy dying, thrown over the banister of the stairs and - no, Oliver wouldn’t have -

“Thea had a drug problem,” Oliver said morosely. “So I… confronted her dealer while she was at the party. I was planning on just threatening him, Mom, I swear, but then he recognised me and I panicked. I knew then that if it got out that I was alive, if the kid got away and told somebody… ARGUS was going to hurt anybody I loved. So I snapped his neck.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she choked, pulling him in for a hug again, sitting them down on the couch as they clutched each other. Oliver was practically trembling in her arms, but his voice never wavered.

“I came here as well.” He glanced around the living room with a grim smile. “I sat here for hours, waiting for you, or Thea, or just somebody to come and find me. Except ARGUS turned up and took me away again back to Hong Kong. I would have tried to contact you after that, after they released me, but stuff happened and -”

“I read it in the file, Oliver,” Moira interrupted with a weak smile.

“I tried, Mom. Really, I tried.”

“I know,” she soothed, gripping his arms. “I know you did all you could to get back to us as soon as you could. You don’t need to apologise, Oliver. You went through a horrible ordeal, one I couldn’t even imagine and I’m not going to shout at you for something that wasn’t in your control.” Moira’s expression changed into one of fury. “However, that Waller woman is another story.”

“There’s nothing you can do to change it, Mom.” But seeing his mother’s furious face, he grimaced. “You read on about the missile incident last year, didn’t you? Mom, that’s Amanda’s solution for everything. If you can’t stop it, control it or put it down, then you blow it up.”

“She could have levelled the city and killed millions of people. It would have been worse than the Undertaking,” Moira said hotly.

“Except I stopped her, Mom. She called back the missile in time and nobody was hurt. That’s all that matters.” Oliver’s phone beeped. He checked it and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, duty calls. Captain Lance wants Team Arrow’s assistance with a new gang that’s popped up in the Glades.” He stood and kissed her forehead. After a moment, he pulled out the sealed envelope and passed it to her.

“Oliver, no, I can’t -” She tried to push it away, determined not to let that file drive a wedge between them.

“I don’t care whether you burn it, keep it, throw it into the ocean. But I want you to take it,” the archer said firmly, pressing it into her hands. “I don’t know why Amanda’s sending me this; it may be a way to blackmail me into a mission or something for ARGUS.”

“I am not going to let that happen,” Moira seethed.

“That’s why you should have it. Please, Mom.”

With a great amount of hesitance, Moira took hold of the file and pulled the envelope to her chest, swallowing. Oliver continued to watch her carefully as he pulled his coat on and prepared to leave.

“I may have been gone, Mom,” he murmured softly, hand on the doorknob. “But I never forgot the home that was awaiting my return. I hope you know that.”

“I do.” And she did. Oliver would always come home. Whether that was at the mansion or at the club, in Starling City or in the Arrow Cave, with his mother and sister or with his team, Oliver always found a way to return.

Chapter Text

Felicity hurried into the QC investors meeting looking as if she had dressed hurriedly, and was very flustered. Nobody seemed to take notice, except Moira. The older woman raised her eyebrows as the blonde collapsed down with a huff into her seat next to her, hair slightly mussed and last button on her blouse undone, and Moira very pointedly glanced towards the door, shooting Felicity a look questioning when her son was going to arrive.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Felicity said.

“Where is he?” Moira asked firmly, trying to look disapproving.

“Would you freak out if I told you he was rescuing thirteen hostages from a youth hostel in the South of the Glades? Of course you would, why am I even asking that question?” Felicity muttered under her breath. “Yeah, so, Oliver’s not coming. I told him I would take notes and ask questions for him. Except now he owes me a week’s worth of lattes.”

“He gets you lattes every morning anyway.”

“I know,” Felicity nodded. “Now I get one every evening as well. And he has to make them personally.”

The meeting began a minute after that, lasting an hour or so. They were interviewing potential investors for QC, listening to presentations and their opinions on where they could talk the company, offering money, tech, development schemes and the like. None of them partically stood out. The meeting was about to conclude.

But then Ray Palmer arrived.

He was the CEO of recently-arisen Palmer Technologies, having bought out a company in Coast City and building it up into his own technological development facility. He had a lot to offer QC. He was charismatic, charming, smart. There wasn’t much one could not like about him.

Except for the fact he was so obviously hitting on Felicity.

He kept on looking at her. When the man was meant to be addressing the rest of the board, he was staring at her with a wide, striking smile that would have sent lesser women to their knees, melting into gooey puddles. But Felicity just stared coolly back, uninterested in his advances.

As he was nearing the end of his presentation, Ray Palmer winked at Felicity.

Moira very nearly lost her cool. At first, his attempts of attracting Felicity’s attention had been endearing, and Moira would have patted him on the head like a good little puppy and offered him a ‘good try’. But then it had exploded into sweeping around the room to place his hands on her shoulders, flashing flirty grins at her. The wink was about to push her over the edge.

Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose and glanced up from where she was taking formal notes. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mr Palmer -”

“Ray, please,” Palmer replied with a grin.

Moira internally seethed.

Felicity continued, “Like I said, Ray, if you don’t mind… why exactly are you choosing to invest in Queen Consolidated? There are thousands of other companies out there, closer to your HQ in Coast City, who you could choose. So what made you want to invest in QC?”

‘Ray’ flashed her another charming smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name, Ma’am.”

Moira’s patience leapt off the edge of a cliff and drowned in the waters below it. She interrupted, with a brief cold smile, “This is Felicity Smoak, my son’s fiance, who is also Queen Considated’s co-Director of Applied Sciences.” She made sure to emphasise on who Felicity belonged to. Moira didn’t want Ray Palmer laying any of his metaphorically grubby fingers on Felicity.

If Ray was shocked at the news that the girl he had been trying to flirt with was taken, he hid it extremely well. “Miss Smoak,” he began. “Thank you very much for asking! Very good question. As it happens, I do have an explanation for my interest in QC and that lies in -” Blah blah blah, tech stuff, money, blah blah, potential, blah blah, whatever.

And thank heaven and god, the meeting ended. Ray Palmer left quickly, dashing out the conference room like hell hounds were on his heels, Moira’s glare following him out and glowering daggers into his back. The rest of the board began chatting about who they liked the most, and who they considered the most rewarding to QC.

Felicity turned to Moira with a raised eyebrow. “I did not realise that Oliver and I were getting married,” she said pleasantly, though there was a warning in her tone. “And I don’t think you get to decide whether we’re engaged or not, Moira.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Moira responded stiffly. “He was obviously trying to flirt with you. Oliver wasn’t here to stake a claim, so I did it for him. It put him off, didn’t it?”

“Well yeah,” Felicity said slowly. “But now the whole board’s gonna wanna know when we’re planning the announcement of our engagement to the public, and there’s going to be a press conference, front page articles and at least one of these guys is a slimy geezer who will leak to the newspapers, I know it, so by tomorrow, this is going to be international news.”

Walter joined them from the other side of the room, looking amused. “Judging by Felicity’s unhappy face, I’m guessing that Oliver and Felicity’s engagement was a cover to stop Mr Palmer from hitting on your future daughter-in-law, Moira?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking at the time,” Moira responded, though she shot Felicity an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by how that man was taking every opportunity to touch your shoulders.”

“Okay, yeah, I admit that freaked me out,” Felicity confessed.

Her cell phone chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket with a heavy sigh and glanced at the screen.

SINCE WHEN ARE WE ENGAGED?
I DIDN’T ASK WHEN YOU DRUGGED ME UP LAST WEEK AFTER BEING SHOT, RIGHT?
YOU WOULD HAVE MENTIONED IT?
WHY IS WALTER SENDING ME TEXTS CONGRATULATING ME ON OUR FUTURE WEDDING?
WHAT JUST HAPPENED AT THAT MEETING?
DID I MISS SOMETHING MASSIVE THAT YOU’RE NOT TELLING ME?
FELICITY!!
REPLY ASAP!!
Oliver.

“And now my apparent fiance is flipping his lid,” Felicity deadpanned, tucking her cell phone away without responding, happy to allow her boyfriend to stew for a little while. “Thank you for texting him, Walter.”

Walter beamed. He tipped his head cheekily and moved away to talk to some of the other board members. “My pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Oliver dropped the phone from where he was standing in the corner of his and Felicity’s office. Shock, horror and guilt crossed over his face in a horrible mixture, making the archer appear as if he was breaking down, frozen in place.

Moira, Walter and Felicity looked up quickly from where they were both working on the finance for Applied Sciences. Felicity immediately stood and rushed over to her boyfriend, scooping up his dropped phone from the floor and taking one of his hands, squeezing it tightly as she began to speak to the person on the other end of the line. Moira and Walter exchanged worried glanced as Felicity instantly became stunned at whatever she was being told.

As the blonde hung up and pocketed Oliver’s phone, she led him to the nearest seat and Oliver sat down, his eyes distant and blank. Moira and Walter both closed their files and crossed the room.

“I have a son,” Oliver said quietly and slowly, his eyes enormously wide in disbelief. “I have a son. He’s seven years old and his name’s Connor Hawke. I -” He turned to gaze at Felicity, his eyes as round as plates. “Felicity, I’m a father. How could I not know I was a father?”

“Hey, hey,” Felicity cupped the back of his neck and leaned forwards, trying to stop his hands from trembling. “Calm down, take a deep breath.”

Oliver inhaled and exhaled, but it shuddered. “She told me she lost the baby,” he whispered. “She moved to Central City. I never imagined -” He squeezed his eyes closed, huffing, then said in a morosely sad voice, “Sandra Hawke died in a car crash three days ago. Her son Connor appeared orphaned. Then they found her will and a folder that was to be released to her laywer upon her death. There was a paternity test inside. Connor Hawke is my son, and the state want to know whether or not I want custody.”

Moira closed his eyes and let out a mutter of, “Oh god,” turning away and beginning to pace. It had been years, eight years, and she had promised Oliver she wouldn’t keep any more secrets from him. But this was the biggest secret of all. Moira could feel the universe pointing and laughing.

Felicity asked suspiciously, “Did you have anything to do with this?” in a low voice, that held a vicious warning and threat.

Moira felt terrible as she stammered, rubbing her brow, “He was so young at the time. I know it was wrong but Oliver wasn’t ready to be a father, he wasn’t ready to settle down and he was with Laurel at the time.” She shook her head, shame overwhelming her. “I paid Sandra Hawke an obscene amount of money to tell Oliver she lost the baby and move to Central City.”

Within seconds, Oliver had her shoved up against the wall and a hand loosely around her throat, a threatening snarl on his lips, fury clouding his eyes. Moira swallowed, but knowing that her son wasn’t really going to hurt her, shot Walter and Felicity pleading looks not to interfere when they started forwards, looking as if they were about to drag Oliver back.

“You had no right,” he hissed angrily. “You had NO RIGHT to send her away like that, NO RIGHT to determine whether or not I would have been a good father. That was months, only months before I got onto the Gambit with dad; if I had committed to looking after the baby, then I wouldn’t have gone on the boat. And then I got back, and you had to chance to tell me, to tell me I had a healthy, living five year old son, who probably NEEDED me, but you didn’t! I thought you said no more secrets, no more lies; THAT was what you said, after you found out I was the Arrow, and I found out about Thea being Merlyn’s daughter! THAT’S WHAT YOU SAID!” His hand was tightening around her neck with every roared, enraged word, and the archer had worked himself into a frenzy, where he panted and shook, growling.

“I know,” Moira said quietly, not even denying it. “I know I should have told you, Oliver. I’m sorry that I’m a mother who wanted to protect her son -”

“Protect me?” Oliver spat, lips drawing back into another snarl as he slammed her into the wall effortlessly. “What, protect me from a baby? Protect me from my son? I can’t - I can’t -” He recoiled, hand falling limp as he shrank away, shaking and staggering back to the chair, eyes closed.

Felicity helped him sit down. She kept on shooting angry, judging looks at Moira, but the older woman didn’t seem to care. Walter had been watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, and now looked upon his ex-wife with disapproval and disdain, frowning, but not saying anything.

“Felicity, could you look up Connor Hawke, please?” Oliver questioned, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temples, looking extremely stressed out.

“Sure,” the blonde agreed easily, rubbing one of his shoulders before sitting down beside him, pulling her laptop onto her lap. “Alright, so here we are. Connor Hawke.”

A picture appeared on screen. Oliver took a sharp intake of breath. It was one of those crappy school photos, with the kid in a uniform, but the boy looked so very like a younger Oliver. He had startling blue eyes and short, messy dark blonde hazel hair, and a grin that matched Oliver’s, mischief clear in his expression, but also a boldness that equaled his father’s.

“Oh my god,” Felicity murmured. “He looks just like you.” She tapped a few more keys. “Born 11th December 2008.” She snuck a look at Oliver. “That means he must have been concieved only two months before the Gambit went down, right?”

“Keep reading,” Oliver replied, not answering Felicity’s question, but leaning against her gently.

“Okay. So, seven years old, he’s in private ed.; ooh, looks like he’s quite the good student, except for his algebra. Last test he got a ‘D’; guess he got that from you. He plays soccer and hockey at a local club, goes wind-surfing. Looks like he’s had a bit of trouble with friendship issues in the past. All in all, he’s a good kid. Not the kind of kid who deserves to have his mother snatched away from him.”

“No child deserves to have their mother taken away,” Walter said softly.

“He’s currently staying in Central City Care Home for Boys.” Felicity glanced at Oliver. “I’ll text Barry and ask him to check it out. Detective West and Cisco will be able to keep an eye on him, and I'll also contact Caitlin to ask her to do an extra paternity test if you want. That is, if you’re going to take custody of him.”

Oliver was silent for a moment and then he said, quietly, “I’m not sure now is the best time considering everything we have going on with the League of Assassins… but yes, I want to take custody of my son. That is, if you’re okay with it?”

Felicity looked baffled. “Why would I not be okay with it?”

Oliver took her hands and squeezed them tightly. “Because you’re going to be his step-mom, and I wasn’t sure whether you’d be okay with that or not.” Seeing the look Felicity shot him, he finally cracked a smile. “I’ll call back and tell them we’re going to fight for custody then. We’ll need a lawyer.”

Walter tucked his jacket behind him. “I know a good law firm that specialise in family affairs. I’ll email Felicity the details this evening. You should know, Oliver, I may not be your step-father anymore and I may just be a fellow employee, but I will do whatever I can to help you, your son and Miss Smoak.”

“Thank you, Walter,” Oliver said, with a deep gratitude that made Moira feel terrible.

“Oliver -” she tried, stepping forwards to try and touch his arm.

The archer leapt out of his seat as if her hand was poisonous, eyeing her warily. Moira felt as if she was about to cry; she had only seen Oliver wear that look with potential threats and compromising people in his mission, and it suddenly felt horrible to be on the other side of it.

“No. I’m sorry, but no. You have done many unforgivable things; all of which I have, without any hesitance or doubt, forgiven you for. Having me kidnapped; having Walter kidnapped; the Undertaking; lying about Thea's parentage. This, THIS, tips the scales. And once Connor is safe, and happy and living his life in Starling with Felicity and I as his parents, then I might be able to forgive you once again. But until that happens, you are not Connor Hawke’s grandmother. You can ask after him, but you don’t get visitation. You stay away from him, you stay away from us.”

Moira swallowed before nodding, whispering, “I understand.”

“I’ll text Thea and ask if we can move into the loft for a few weeks,” Felicity told them softly, gripping her tablet and gravitating to Oliver’s side subconsciously.

“Thank you.” Oliver leant down and kissed her briefly before it was interrupted by his his phone beeping. He groaned, checking it. “Sara thinks she’s got a lead on the League. I have to get to the Foundry.”

“I’ll give you a lift to the edge of the Glades,” Walter offered.

“I might just have to take you up on that,” Oliver began yanking on his busniess jacket and ducked under his desk to grab his duffel. He paused, frowning at Felicity. “Change here, change in car or change at club?”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Oliver, it’s the middle of the day.”

“Right!” Oliver pecked her quickly before shooting his mother a look. “This isn’t over. We’ll discuss this later. “ As he and Walter exited, he called back: “After this I’ll contact our friends in Central City Police and we’ll arrange to stay at Barry’s for a few days.”

Finally, Felicity and Moira were left alone in the ofice. Felicity tapped her tablet intimidatingly and moved past the older woman silently, picking up Moira’s files and handing her her hand bag. It was a very polite, silent version of ‘get the hell out’.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking. I’m not psychic. But you should know that what you did, seperating Oliver and Connor, was inexcusable. Growing up with an absent parent sucks, I should know. You’re very lucky you have a son who has learnt and lived a life of deceit for safety; Oliver can forgive you for this. That doesn’t mean I can.”

As Moira left the office, slumped and shrunk into herself slightly, tears gathering in her eyes as she realised and contemplated on how much wrong she had done, she had never felt so alone.

Two months later, Moira was invited, along with Quentin, Laurel, Sara, Diggle, Lyla, their baby Andy and Walter to Thea and Roy’s loft to join them, Felicity, Oliver and Connor for a big family dinner party. Halfway through, Moira was leaning against the back of the sofa when she felt a small hand tugging on her sleeve. She glanced down and her heart froze when she realised it was Connor, a little mini version of Oliver, gazing up at her with large, round blue eyes.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” Moira replied softly.

“I’m Connor. You looked lonely, so I thought I’d come talk to you. You’re Dad’s mom, so you’re my Grandma, but not like Grandpa Quentin, ‘cause he said he’s ‘Lissy’s adoptive dad.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, and it was familiar to te look that Oliver set on criminals. “You are my Grandma, right? Dad and ‘Lissy said you are.”

Moira smiled faintly and her eyes flitted to find her son and his partner. Both were conversing with Sara and Roy about something or another, but were keeping their eyes firmly plastered on their son. They didn’t seem too overly bothered about Connor talking to her, both looking calm and even slightly raising their eyebrows, so Moira turned back to the small boy.

“I guess I am your Grandma,” she said with a looser grin. “And I’m the sort of Grandma that likes to spoil their grandson rotten. So what do you like, Connor? I hear you enjoy your sports a lot.”

Connor lit up. “Yeah! I like hockey and soccer a lot. But you know what’s really cool? Archery!” He was beaming and bouncing up and down beside her, tugging her hand. “When I heard I was moving to Starling, I looked up all ‘bout it, and the Arrow and his superhero team are so awesome!”

“Are they now?” Moira responded, amused. “And who’s your favourite in Team Arrow?”

“That’s gotta be a trick question! Everybody’s favourite is the Arrow! I asked Dad if he could get me some archery lessons in a club or something, but he said he could teach me himself.” Connor leant in, as if to tell a secret. “Can I tell you something? You haveta swear not to tell anybody, not even Aunty Thea, Aunty Laurel, Aunty Sara or Uncle Roy. Not even my Dad or ‘Lissy.”

Moira nodded mock-seriously, kneeling down and saying, “Oh, I swear. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Connor whispered, “I don’t think Dad’ll be very good at archery. He keeps saying that he’s good and stuff when I show him my drawings and ana-” He scrunched his eyes up. “An-a-lit-ic-al diagrams, but I think he’s just showing off for ‘Lissy. Have you noticed? He always shows off for ‘Lissy.”

Moira couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The atmosphere considerable lighter, Connor was dragged away by Diggle and Roy who began to have very serious talks about superheroes with him. Oliver left Felicity’s side from where she was talking to Quentin to approach his mother from the side quietly.

“You’re good with him,” Oliver said.

“I’ve had children before, Oliver. And he is so very much like you when you were younger.” She smiled. “Except for his fascination with the Arrow and his team.”

Oliver grinned and turned to watch his son. “Yeah, I know. Felicity and I are trying to think of a way to break it to him. It’ll be hilarious when he finally finds out.”

“He’ll be ecstatic when he sees the Arrow Cave.”

“DAD DAD DAD!” Connor bowled into his father’s arms and Oliver hoisted him up onto the top of a counter, trying to hold down the trembling bundle of energy as Connor beamed. “Uncle Roy says he can teach me archery! He says he’s got a bow and quiver and a range and everything!”

“Oh, does he?” Oliver smirked, ruffling his son’s hair. “Well, I think before you use that shooting range, Roy’ll have to ask the Arrow for his permission. Just because he works with the Arrow doesn’t mean he can use his stuff for free.”

Connor’s jaw dropped in stunned awe. And then he wasn’t on the counter anymore. Instead, he was rugby tackling Roy to the ground, questions flying out of his mouth so fast you couldn’t comprehend them and beating his fists on Oliver’s younger partner’s chest, yelling excitedly.

“Why did you do that?” Felicity sighed, drifting over.

“Now Roy’ll think twice before even suggesting he’s a better shot than me.” Oliver looked strangely smug, clasping his hands behind his back with a pleased smile.

“You’re cruel,” Felicity smacked his arm. “Go and rescue Roy from your son.”

“Our son,” Oliver corrected. “And nah, I think I’ll let him stew for a bit. Pinned to the floor by a seven year old is a good look for Roy.”

Chapter Text

Captain Lance had good days and bad days, like any other person. It just so happened that when the universe cackled and decided he deserved a bad day, that day basically went to hell and got torn up by hellhounds. He was so completely sick of dealing with the paperwork concerning Team Arrow; the newly elected major, who he couldn’t even remember the name of (Starling went through mayors like Hogwart went through Defense Against the Dark Arts professors), had decided that they wanted the whole of Team Arrow officially employed.

While this meant that they would finally be getting paid and recieve full pardons for any crimes or murders committed, and get official licences for their weapons and to kill, this also meant that the Arrow, Arsenal, Canary, Overwatch and Oracle would have to reveal their identities. Team Arrow wasn’t that enthusiatic after they heard that last condition.

“Captain Lance.”

Lance huffed, running a hand over face and glancing up. A look of surprise crossed him when he realied that it was Moira Queen looking down at him. She appeared cold and stern, but then after a second her expression softened as the captain heaved a sigh of irritation.

“Am I interrupting?” Moira asked.

“No, take a seat.” He waved towards his free chair and began gathering his papers into a neat pile. “I’ve been wondering when you’d pop by. Ensure my silence on your son’s other job.”

“Well, that is what I planned,” Moira admitted. Then she lifted a paper from the floor, that had dropped down there without Lance realising. He sighed again when he realised it was a copy of the email sent by the major. “But then I saw this.”

“Yeah. That.” He took the paper and turned away to shove the whole lot into a folder. “They’re giving me grief with this one. The mayor’s team and your son’s. Oliver’s a stubborn kid, but you probably knew that.” He looked around curiously. “How is he by the way? After the whole QC attack thing where he shot that guy, I didn’t really get the chance to ask.”

“He’s doing well,” Moira nodded. “Felicity and I managed to convince him that killing in self-defence wasn’t breaking his promise to Tommy, so that’s something. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”

“No. You’re here to threaten me to keep my mouth shut about the Arrow’s ‘secret identity’.” He put finger quotation marks around the last two words sarcastically. “Don’t you think that if I was gonna tell anybody, I would’ve done it already? You’re forgetting both my daughters are on that team, and I’ve practically adopted Felicity.”

“You could easily arrest Oliver and leave the three girls out of it.” Moira’s eyes were piercing. “You certainly have enough evidence to bring him into custody on suspicion of being the Arrow.”

“Mrs Queen, let me tell you something.” Lance sat back in his chair. “I’m a cop. I arrest criminals for a living. And vigilantism is a crime. But you know what I see when I watch your son fighting bad guys with a bow in green leather? When I see my daughter bring down villains with a metal stick? When I find your daughter’s boyfriend freeing hostages and saving kids? I don’t see vigilantes. I see good samaritans. I don’t arrest them.”

“And what about the rest of the force?”

Lance grinned. “That depends. When they’re saving people we can’t, or fighting villians we can’t, then we’re the biggest Team Arrow fan-club out there. When we’re left to deal with the paperwork of taken down mobs, gangs, or trafficking groups, well, then Team Arrow are a massive pain. Most of the force know I’m in contact with them, and often they ask me to mail Oliver the overtime bills.”

“Do you?”

“Is that a trick question? ‘Course not. Your son does enough for this city by risking his neck every night without having to worry about the SCPD’s officers’ paychecks. Nah, I deal with them. Felicity may sometimes drop a little in, but generally the mayor, Chief and I sort it out.”

Moira looked surprised. “And they’re okay with doing that?”

“Why’d you think they want to officially employ Team Arrow? They know they have to be okay with it.”

Moira nodded, satisified, then took a deep breath and announced, “I’m here to talk about whether you want in on the team or not.”

Lance laughed. But then he saw Moira’ raised eyebrow, and he blanched. “You’re - you’re serious. You’re actually serious. Nah, I don’t think so. If I was being invited to join Team Arrow, then Oliver or Sara would do it themselves.”

“They’re on a mission and sent me in their stead.”

“That’s great and all, but I don’t believe you.”

Moira leaned over and took the folder concerning the trying-to-get-Team-Arrow-employed paperwork. Lance frowned and considered trying to grab it back, but then shrugged and leaned back.

“We both know that Oliver, Sara, Roy, Diggle and Felicity aren’t going to agree to employment under the state if they have to reveal their idenitities. And they’ve been arguing a lot about it lately, and I couldn’t help but overhear.” She dusted off the file and flicked through it idly. “I thought maybe, I could help by suggesting a compromise.”

Lance quirked an eyebrow, resting his elbows on his desk. “Huh. I’m listening.”

“You’re captain of the police. You become the official liason between the SCPD and Team Arrow, know their identities, be their state contact. Convince the mayor that this’ll be the only way Team Arrow’ll agree to employment. No indentities are revealed, all our families and friends are safe, Oliver and the team continue fighting the criminals, the police get help when it’s needed and the mayor gets to say that the Starling vigilantes aren’t running around untamed. It’s a win, win situation.”

Lance was impressed. He inclined his head and complimented, “I can see why the QC board voted to keep you in as CEO. That’s probably the best plan I’ve heard in a while. Have Team Arrow heard this?”

Moira smiled. “Not exactly. They’ll all too busy fighting gangs, parkouring around the city and brooding to consider listening to an old woman like me. That’s why I came to you.”

“Yeah, we’re both T.A.M.P.s.” At Moira’s questioning look, Lance rolled his eyes and muttered, “It’s what Roy calls us. Team Arrow Member’s Parents.”

Moira’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s a club,” she said flatly. “Of course there is. This is Team Arrow we’re talking about.” She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs idly, clasping her hands together over the file. “I’ll ask Oliver to call you as soon as their mission is over. Hopefully it’ll be successful.”

“They always are,” Lance snapped his fingers and shot her a pointed look, hand out for the file. Moira handed it over after a second. “I’m actually glad I’m not alone in the T.A.M.P.s club anymore; god knows those kids need some adult influence sometimes.”

Moira gave a hearty laugh. “Don’t I know it,” she agreed with a smile. “Did I tell you about the time I found Oliver giving Roy archery lessons in my living room? They’re so completely brainless sometimes. They honestly need a Mom and Dad to keep them under control.”

“That I can’t argue with.”

Chapter Text

Oliver arrived back at the Arrow Cave, exhausted from a late evening mission. There was nothing like that triumphant feeling after you busted a human-trafficking group. His elated feeling was only heightened by the fact that, when SCPD arrived, Lance had prodded the chief commissioner to thank them. The grin the Captain had had on his face when he winked at the archer had been returned, and Oliver had made a flashy, over-the-top exit with a zip-line just so Lance could laugh at the look on the commissioner's face. The Arrow entered the Foundry with a wide smile on his face, only to find Felicity and Diggle waiting for him with morose expressions on their faces. That could only mean something bad had happened, so Oliver simply switched his bow between his hands and looked intently between them both.

“What’s going on?” he questioned shortly.

“Your Mom called,” Diggle told him grimly. “Looks like the Queen mansion got a visitor this evening.”

Oliver’s heart sank. Visitor either meant a police officer, assassin, League member or somebody bearing bad news. He glanced behind him and saw that Sara and Roy, who had followed him in, both looked equally concerned. He shot a look at Sara, who shook her head confusedly, telling him without speaking, conveying through a simple look that she didn’t think it could be the League. And Lance probably would have phoned ahead if they were sending police officers around to the mansion, mostly because now he knew Oliver was the Arrow, he had become a fully-fledged member of the team; so it couldn't be the SCPD.

“Oh god. Is Thea okay?” Roy asked, eyes wide, assuming the worst.

Felicity reassured quickly, hands held out placatingly, “Moira and Thea are fine. This visitor wasn’t looking for them.” Her eyes darkened. “It wasn’t an assassin, or attacker, or anybody who wanted to kill them. It was someone worse.”

Felicity swivelled around in her chair and tapped at her computer setup for a moment, pulling up security camera feeds from the bugs they had placed months ago in the mansion for safety. She swiped her hand across her screen, sending the video onto the mounted team monitor. Oliver, Sara and Roy exchanged worried looks before striding forwards in front of the screen. A live feed of the living room was put on full screen.

Instantly recognising his mother and sister’s visitor, rage and fury rose up within the archer and growling, Oliver tore out of the Cave, gripping his bow tightly and sprinting to his Ducati. Ignoring the worried calls of his team mates, within moments Oliver had kicked his motorbike into drive and was tearing through the streets of the Glades towards his home, still dressed in his Arrow-gear, his anger dulling all other emotions.

He passed the police cars taking the human-traffickers to the precinct. Lance had to swerve his police car to the side to avoid Oliver scratching the side with his motorbike and the archer caught for a quarter of a second the man’s annoyed but baffled look, as if he couldn't understand why the team was heading out again after they had finished up for the night. Oliver didn't have to look back to know that the honking of another police car's horn signified that they had been forced to swerve again by something behind him. Oliver realised quickly that both Sara and Roy were tailing him on their own bikes, but didn’t care. He only cared about getting to the mansion and putting an end to whatever was going on there.

He entered the house with an arrow nocked to his bow and drew the drawstring taut, aiming the arrow at the person calmly seated on the couch as he circled the room, a deep snarl erupting from his throat.

“Get out,” he snapped ferociously, subconsciously slipping into his Arrow voice and baring his teeth to intimidate the intruder.

Amanda Waller calmly and coldly rose to her feet and flashed a quick, stony smile at him. “Good evening, Oliver.”

He squeezed his bow and drew the drawstring to full anchor point, the string tightening so you could hear the tension. He circled around the couch quickly so he stood directly in front of Amanda, the arrow head pointing at her face. She gazed at the tip of the arrow head indifferently, but as Oliver stepped closer, he could see that there was a faint trace of wariness in her eyes, only due to the fact that she had seen and knew what the archer could do.

“Oliver, Oliver -” Lyla appeared from the kitchen, calling his name and he wheeled around, arrow aimed and she instantly raised her hands up into a gesture of peace. She was dressed in official ARGUS agent uniform, her hair tied up, but she had her friendly-face on, trying to show that it wasn't a hostile situation. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” he said lowly, backing away slightly so he was able to swing his aim between the two women. “Where’re my mom and sister?”

Lyla leaned back to call back and Moira and Thea appeared behind her in the doorway. Oliver immediately relaxed slightly, relieved that his family was unharmed; he trusted Lyla enough not to hurt his sister and mother, but Waller was another story. Thea looked frightened and confused about what was happening but Moira was simply glaring at the woman taking residence on her couch.

“We’re okay, Ollie,” Thea said quietly. “She said she wants to talk to you.”

“I’m not listening to anything she has to say.”

“That’s a shame considering that my only interest in being here is keeping your mother and sister safe.”

Oliver made a low growl. “Are you threatening my family?”

“No. I am trying to protect it.” Waller sat down again, blatantly ignoring the arrow pointing at her face, and picked up a file from the coffee table, flicking through it. “Agent Michaels and I became aware that somebody has been threatening your mother.”

Oliver’s eyes darted to his mother and Moira shot him an apologetic look.

“Is this true?” he asked quietly.

“I didn’t want to worry you -”

Oliver turned his head away in frustration and slowly lowered his bow, slacking the draw and putting the arrow back in his quiver. “Mom, any threat against you is a threat against the family, and any threat against the family is against me.”

Waller looked up. “And unfortunately, any threat against you is a threat against ARGUS.” Seeing the bemused look Oliver sent her, Waller’s lips quirked in amusement. “I see Agent Michaels didn’t inform you that you never officially resigned as an ARGUS agent. You’re still on my employment list.”

If Oliver was anything at that moment, he was absolutely, uncontrollably livid. He didn't want anything to do with ARGUS; sure, he had sworn to Lyla that if she needed help with a mission, he would be happy to assist, but he had told her that under no circumstances would he ever work for Amanda Waller again. And here the woman in person was, telling him that he was still working for her. Sara and Roy silently fell into rank behind him, and Oliver had no doubt that before that moment, they had been silently waiting and listening in the lobby, ready to offer support if needed.

Waller continued on as if she hadn’t noticed the way Oliver had tightened his hand around his bow and his fingers had twitched to grab an arrow. “Luckily for you, however, after I discovered what services you were providing Starling with your talents, I decided that the direct approach I needed with you in Hong Kong wasn’t necessary.”

At the mention of his year in Hong Kong, Oliver flinched minutely. Moira strode into the room to stand beside Sara and levelled her full-out ‘you are dead to me’ glower at Waller.

“What do you want, Amanda?” Oliver asked in a low voice. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something.”

“Well, Mr Queen.” She flicked through her file. “Agent Michaels and I indentified the man threatening your mother. His name is Iosif Mstislav.” Oliver instantly stiffened. Waller smirked. “Yes, I thought you’d react like that. I believe you know him from your time in the Bratva.”

Unease rippled through the group behind him and Oliver closed his eyes as he imagined the horror crossing Thea’s face, the hard sets of Sara and Roy’s eyes and his mother’s reaction. He had told them several things about the island, about Hong Kong, but the only person he had ever talked to about Moscow was Felicity.

“He was a fellow Captain, yes,” he said.

“What do you remember about him?” Lyla questioned, crossing his arms.

Oliver thought back. “He wasn’t… he wasn’t a loyal Bratva brother and he stole money from the leader. He managed to loiter a large sum before escaping on a stolen plane; they weren’t able to track him down but knew that he continued his own business threatening company leaders to -” He cut off and turned to his mother, sighing as he deduced, “Mstislav’s been threatening QC.”

Moira nodded dejectedly. “He made contact three days ago, threatening to send hit men to kill the whole board and our families.”

“Why are you interested in him?” Oliver demanded to Waller.

“Mstislav built himself a small organisation. He uses it to hack into and destory companies and other organisations if they refuse to give him their money and killing their families doesn’t work.” Lyla kept her face carefully schooled. “He threatened ARGUS seven months ago. Twelve agents were killed. We were able to move their families to safe houses before they were targeted also.”

“So this is very much personal,” Waller finished for her agent. “And due to the fact you are still ARGUS employed, I thought, who better than somebody who knows how this man works, to take him down?”

“You want Ollie to kill the Russian dude?” Thea whispered.

Waller shot an amused look at his sister, one that made Oliver growl and step in front of her protectively. “I wouldn’t worry, Miss Queen. Your brother killed many people in his service to ARGUS. One more won’t make any difference.”

“Yes, it will,” Thea hissed, stepping forwards. “Ollie doesn’t kill people anymore, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna kill for you.”

“Thea,” Oliver said in a warning tone, shooting her a look to back down.

Thea did so reluctantly.

“Amanda, I may have once worked and killed for you,” Oliver told her. “But not once did I do it willingly. I did it to protect my family from you. Team Arrow will deal with Mstislav, only due to the fact our team members and city are in danger because of him. I won’t be doing it for ARGUS.”

Amanda pursed her lips, looking unhappy, but responded in a clipped tone, “Understood, Mr Queen.”

“And I never, ever want you near my mom and my sister again. You stay away from this house and you stay away from them. You want to speak with me, you come to me directly at my QC office after booking an appointment, or you ask Lyla to arrange a meeting. They’re not getting involved with your business. You so much as look at them, I will tear ARGUS to the ground.”

“You don’t have the resources to do that, Oliver,” Amanda smirked.

“Oh really?” Oliver narrowed his eyes. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have Felicity Smoak. I have John Diggle, Roy Harper, Sara Lance and Laurel Lance. I have a team in Central City that consists of the fastest man alive and a man who can control nuclear energy and set himself on fire, the entirety of the Bratva, a Fortune-500 company and the Starling City police department on my side.” Oliver’s blue eyes glittered darkly. “Destroying ARGUS would be as easy as snapping my fingers, Amanda Waller.”

“That’s treachery, Mr Queen.”

“Well not anymore, because I resign. Quit. Whatever the term is that gets me out from under your thumb.” Oliver turned to Lyla. “You’ll get it down on record officially.”

“Of course, Mr Queen,” Lyla replied with a smile before Waller could begin yelling.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in which the two opposing teams glared, but Amanda seemed to flit her eyes between them all and back down slightly, realising that she was outnumbered and obviously beaten.

“In all due respect, Director Waller,” Moira said, her voice so calm and toneless that it sent shivers up Oliver’s spine. “Oliver’s agreed to deal with this Mstislav man. So if you would, please get the hell out of my house.”

Amanda stood, gathering her file into her arms and walked out of the living room towards the exit. Lyla followed her dutifully, but she was grinning, sending a wink back at the team, which made Thea smile. Roy oh so helpfully opened the door and glared as Amanda stepped out of the house into the open air.

“I expect a fully completed mission report when Mstislav has been dealt with, Mr Queen.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on it,” Thea said mockingly, giving a little wave. “We all know how Ollie is with paperwork.”

Amanda strode out of the door and Lyla followed behind her, shooting them an apologetic smile as they finally left the house and property. Oliver caught her eye and motioned for her to call Diggle, and as she walked out of view, she nodded. Sara and Roy instantly relaxed and Oliver finally managed to put down his bow, tension easing out of his shoulders.

“Okay, her, I seriously do not like,” Thea said, crossing her arms.

“She’ll never bother you again,” Oliver promised, pulling his little sister in for a hug and crushing her against his green leather. And he meant it. The day Amanda Waller messed with his family would be the day she was murdered. "God, I hate Amanda Waller. And Mom?” He released Thea to pull her in for a hug next, exhaling. “Next time an ex-mafia supervillain threatens you, I expect to be kept in the mix.”

Moira managed a wobbly smile. “At least we won’t be seeing that woman again.”

Oliver shrugged, suddenly smiling deviously. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Moira narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Oliver raised his hand up to show his family and team what he was holding, smirking as he announced smugly, “I swiped her car keys.”

Chapter Text

A gunshot echoed through the air, and Captain Lance was struck with dread, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. Gripping his sidearm, he made his way cautiously to where the gunshot had originated from, alert and wary, checking behind him and behind corners.

Of course, it had to be Oliver Queen. And of course, it had to be Oliver Queen shot in the leg and fighting three muggers, unarmed and bleeding out. Lance rushed to help, gun aimed at the three attackers, but by the time he reached the fight, Oliver had struck the last one in the temple, punching him in the side of his face and sending him sprawling unconscious to the floor.

Oliver and Lance’s gazes connected for a second, as if both of them were waiting for the other to act. Lance was waiting for Oliver to make a move, dash away into the shadows to scurry back into his little Arrow Cave of safety; Oliver was waiting for Lance to dart forwards and handcuff him for assault. Neither of them got what they expected. Instead, Oliver let out a throaty groan of pain and slid down the wall, clutching at his shot leg and collapsing under its weight, gritting his teeth. Lance holstered his gun and caught Oliver under his shoulder before he could completely go down. He knew that if Queen sat down, he wouldn’t be able to get him up again.

“Okay, kid,” Lance said, grunting under the archer’s weight. “Let’s take you to your Cave and get your team to patch you up.”

“No,” Oliver protested, hissing in pain through his teeth, trying to take some of his mass off of Lance’s back, but failing when he only ended up nearly tripping over again. “Hadda fight with the team.”

“Kid, I really don’t think they’re gonna care about your argument when you turn up with a bullet in your leg. Give yourself a break.”

But seeing Oliver’s glazed and wary eyes, the way he averted them and inhaled sharply, made him realise that the archer didn’t trust easily. Whatever argument Oliver had had with Team Arrow must have been a serious one. A very serious one. Lance knew that they would help him in an instant, disagreement or not, but Lance knew that Oliver’s trust issues had trust issues, and it was a miracle the kid was letting him help anyway.

“Okay, let’s get you to my car and then home. I sure hope your Mom and sister know how to deal with bullet wounds.”

“They don’t,” Oliver gritted out as the pair began slowly making their way out of the alley back towards where SCPD headquarters were only a street away. “Usually deal with this sort of stuff on my own, or have Sara and Digg sort it out.”

They reached Lance’s cop car a moment later and the captain grunted as he lowered Oliver into the back. God, the kid weighed a lot, not surprising considering the amount of muscle he had. Opening the car boot and pulling out some towels he kept in there for emergencies and situations just like this one, Lance offered them to the archer.

“Thanks,” Oliver said, covering the back seat with them and shifting backwards so he was sitting across the whole back seat, shot leg resting up and his back leaning on the opposite door. “I’m sorry ‘bout this. This is probably the last thing you’d think you’d be doing on a Friday evening.”

“Nah, would’ve had to stay in the office all night doing paperwork. This kinda gives me an excuse to clock out early.” The captain scrutinised the wound carefully, pulling out a small penknife to cut away the excess trouser leg to get a better look. The bullet was buried in the calf, near the bulk of the muscle near the top, by the knee. “Huh. Looks deep. Keeping it all plugged up.”

“Yeah, it’s torn the muscle slightly,” Oliver told him, resting his head back with a heavy, tired sigh. “Damn. This was my bunged up knee as well. I’ve had problems with it ever since Lian Yu.”

Lance slowly raised his gaze to meet the archer’s blue eyes and held his stare, asking lowly, “You sure you don’t want a lift to Verdant?”

Oliver cracked a small smile. “Our base isn’t in Verdant anymore, Captain. Did you really think we’d stay in that basement when the Chief got the whole police force to storm it two weeks ago? We’re lucky you gave us the heads up.”

“I had to. I’m a T.A.M.P..”

“Oh god, please don’t call yourself that,” Oliver groaned, lifting one hand to rub at his eyes. “It’s bad enough Felicity and Roy started the whole ‘call us Team Arrow’ thing, we don’t need a members’ parents club too.”

“Tough luck, kid,” Lance called back as he clambered into the front seat and revved the engine, pulling out of the station’s parking lot and heading towards the mansion. “Your Mom’s already joined. Next thing we need to do is recruit the Flash’s team member’s parents. Though Moira and I’d probably start off with Felicity’s mom.”

Oliver’s attitude instantly changed. “That’s not a good idea.” At Lance’s questioning silence, the archer said in a small voice, “She doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what? That her daughter works with the local Starling vigilantes?”

“Oh, no, she knows that. She’s proud of that actually. She doesn’t know that I’m the Arrow. And considering I’m dating her daughter, I don’t think she’d be pleased to find out Felicity’s boyfriend is a ‘bow-wielding nut-job’. Feel free to try and recruit Detective West though.” At Lance's quick glance back, he clarified, "The Flash's foster dad."

"Yeah, I know who Joe is," Lance responded. "We go out for drinks every month and discuss how reckless our kids are. Pretty miffed that he found out you were Arrow before I did though."

“Well, it wasn’t exactly planned.” Oliver shuffled in the back to get a quick glimpse of his leg. “I think it’s internally bleeding.”

Lance’s hands tightened on his steering wheel. “Badly?”

“Can’t really tell.”

“To hell with it.” Lance turned on his sirens and lights and immediately a path cleared through the traffic. He jerked the police car into the space and roared through the traffic jam, quickly passing through and reaching the entrance to the neighbourhood the Queen mansion was in. “Some perks to being friends with cops, huh?”

Lance wasn’t able to see Oliver’s expression, but when Queen repeated curiously, “You think we’re friends?”, he felt as if Oliver was shooting him an incredulous, disbelieving look.

It struck Lance in the heart when he realised that ever since Lian Yu, Oliver hadn’t been able to completely trust somebody, and therefore wasn’t often able to state he had friends. Sure, he had Felicity, Sara, Roy, Laurel and Team Flash, but if you looked at the number of people pre-island Ollie had been friends with, it was an awfully small group.

“I told you once that you’re the closest thing to a partner I’ve got. I may know your identity now, and we may have had a little rough and tumble, but that still stands.” The car slowed as he turned onto the driveway heading up to the mansion. “We’re here.”

“That we are.” As soon as the car stopped, Oliver twisted himself up to open the car door and hop out, favoring his shot leg and wincing everytime he accidentally put weight on it. Leaning on the side of the car, a shudder ran through due to the pain of the torn muscle and Oliver gave another low groan.

“Idiot,” Lance scoffed, pulling Oliver’s arm over his shoulder to support him as they started towards the house’s front doors. “You shouldn’t even be standing, let alone walking.”

“I’ve suffered much worse, Captain.”

“I know that. Hey!” Lance shouted the last word loudly as they reached the porch and struggled to climb it, Oliver grunting as he hobbled up on one leg. “Oliver’s been shot!”

It turned that that yelling ‘he’s been shot’ at the Queen mansion was the equivilant to shouting ‘bomb’ in an airport. Almost immediately, the sound of shoes thumping down stairs could be heard and Moira yanked the door open with horror on her face. Thea dashed out under Moira’s arm and instantly was supporting Oliver’s other side, one hand steading his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder blades.

“Ollie!” Thea gasped, when she glanced down to spot the wound, paling dramatically.

“I’m fine, Thea,” Oliver tried to reassure her as Lance and his sister helped him through the doors towards the kitchen. “Honestly, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I’ll grab the first aid kit.” Moira vanished only to appear second later with a massive green bag in her arms. She dumped it on the kitchen counter, opened it and began ruffling through the contents.

Lance helped Thea sit Oliver down on a chair by the counter, keeping his shot leg elevated. Oliver turned slightly by his waist and grabbed one corner of the first aid bag. Moira squawked as the archer fished out a syringe and a small bottle.

“What are you -” Thea started, alarmed.

“Lidocaine,” Oliver said shortly, before he plunged the full syringe into his theigh and grimaced, making a small growl before he yanked the needle out and clattered it on the table.

“Wow. I don’t know whether I should be impressed or disgusted,” Lance said, his eyebrows shooting up as he pursed his lips in distaste, eyeing the syringe and bottle warily.

“Neither. Any day I have to take anaesthetic is a bad day.” Oliver ran his hands over his face with a heavy sigh before he turned to his mother and requested, “Forceps, gauze, saline, antibiotics, needle and thread, bandages.”

Lance watched in undisguised, horrified awe as after Moira set these items out on the table, Oliver began to remove the bullet, obviously used to a routine where he would disinfect and clean the wound before wrapping it. It was one thing seeing somebody else doing it for him, or the hospital staff doing it, but as Lance saw Oliver do it himself with a totally calm, neutral expression, it sent shivers down his spine. Just how many times had the kid been forced to clean and sew up his own wounds? How many near death experiences had he endured because of his work as the Arrow?

“I still can’t understand how you can do that,” Thea uttered, looking a little sick and pale as her brother put the intact, withdrawn bullet into a small cup full of disinfectant. “Just… pull a bullet out of yourself without flinching.”

“Oh, trust me, this is just the painkillers. If I didn’t take that licocaine, I would be flinching a lot,” Oliver told her.

Moira lifted her head slightly. “But you’d still do it, wouldn’t you.” It wasn’t even a question.

“When you’re in my line of work, when you’ve gotta survive, you learn to do some difficult things." He winced as he dabbed a spirit-soaked cloth over the wound, mopping away the blood, leaving the raw, red flesh exposed as he prepared a needle and thread. "Yes, that does include looking after your own wounds. I learnt that the hard way.”

“Island reference,” Thea pointed out, standing with her arms crossed. “Now you’ve got to explain.”

Oliver levelled her with a stern look, but seemed to give in as he returned to stitching the small wound together. “Freighter, second year. In order to prove you were worth being kept alive as a prisoner, they shot you and you had to deal with it. Happened to everybody. You had to show you were strong enough to survive.”

“I think I’m gonna barf,” Thea muttered, looking away.

“Even before that, I had to learn how to take care of wounds.” He brushed one hand over where his arrow-scar was, and where the numerous knife scars were covering his torso. “There weren’t any hospitals on the island. You either dealt with it and lived, or died.” He glanced up through his eyelashes as he finished stitching and cut off the thread. “You can probably guess which I picked.”

Moira had slight tears in her eyes. “You must have been so strong to survive that place.”

Oliver squirmed. “Well, yeah.” His phone rang. Taking it as an escape, he quickly picked up and winced as somebody started yelling at him down the line. The kicked-puppy look appeared and Oliver very quickly passed the phone off to Moira, who took it and disappeared out of the room, listening intently.

“Who was that?” Lance questioned, inclining his head towards whether Oliver’s mother had disappeared.

“Nothing,” Oliver replied quickly. Too quickly. “Just QC business.”

Thea grinned. “It was ‘Licity, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“You’re a rubbish liar.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“I lie for a living, Thea, I’m pretty sure I’m pretty good at it by now,” Oliver argued.

Thea grinned. “Ha! That’s basically admitting that you just lied. Admit it, bro, it was an angry ‘Licity, wasn’t it?”

“Was not!”

“Was too!”

“Okay, okay, kids,” Lance interrupted, before it could blow up into a full-scale arguement. Thea stuck her tongue out at her brother, and Oliver made a funny face at her before beginning to wrap bandages around his leg. “I’m guessing Felicity found the CCTV footage?”

Oliver glanced up, enraged. “You knew there was a security camera there?”

“‘Course I did, son. And I had to text your girlfriend to ask her to erase the footage of you fighting off three muggers like Jackie Chan. Don’t glare at me like that. I did you a favour. If our techs found that footage, you’d probably be sleeping in a holding cell for the next few nights.”

Oliver grumbled but managed to bite out a thank you. Lance and Thea exchanged amused looks. Moira returned, passing back Oliver’s phone, looking like she wanted to point and laugh at her son.

“They’re not very happy with you,” she said. “Felicity especially. She would like you to know that no matter whether or not you have an argument, she will always look after you.”

“I know that,” Oliver said softly.

“She doesn’t think you do,” Moira responded, equally as gentle.

“You’ve gotta admit, kid, you’re often very closed off about these things,” Lance offered from the side, sipping from the coffee that Thea had popped up in front of him and shoved into his hands. “Most people would say you have the emotional range of a teaspoon. But we know that isn’t true. You just don’t like sharing things. Felicity’s the one person you can talk to. She loves you, she won’t judge you.”

“Yeah, well, obviously you weren’t there for the argument we had.” Oliver wouldn’t even look at him.

Lance glanced sideways at Moira and Thea, who both shrugged. They honestly didn’t know what the couple had been arguing about either.

Squaring his shoulders, Lance began, “I’m not gonna try and convince you to tell us what you argued about. That’s between you, Felicity and the team. But what I do know is that, despite hiccups and potholes in the road ahead, you two always somehow find a way to be together, no matter what happens. Now, whether those hiccups and potholes happen to be the League of Assassins or a certain guy convincing himself he can’t be with a certain girl -” Lance shot him a pointed look and Oliver winced at that. “Nothing will ever be able to keep you apart. Both of you have proved that time and time again. And you’re not gonna let a little argument break that track record, are you?” Lance finished sternly.

“No, sir,” Oliver muttered.

Lance clapped his shoulder. “Good man.” He checked his watch. “It’s getting pretty late. I should probably head home. Make sure you keep that wound clean and bandaged up, okay, son? Nice to see you again Mrs Queen, Miss Queen.”

Thea gave him a quick hug and Oliver flashed him a smile before Moira escorted him to the front doors. As he was about to step out, pulling his jacket closer around him, Moira caught his elbow and pulled him back.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“No problem. Just make sure the kid calls his team.”

“Oh, I will.” Moira looked as if she wanted to shake his hand, offering one hand, but Lance just rolled his eyes and yanked her in for a brief embrace. Moira looked flustered as she pulled away. “You should come around more often for the Team Arrow dinners and nights-off. I know they would love to have you.”

Lance grinned. “Nuh uh. Laurel warned me about what you lot get up to. Disney princess marathon?”

Oliver, who had been limping towards the stairs at the time, stopped and yelled at him, red-faced: “That was Sara’s idea!”

“Yeah, sure, kid,” Lance shot back, holding back laughter. He turned back to Moira with a friendly smile and replied, “I’ll think about it. Now I’ll head off, you help your son with getting up those stairs before he trips and injures himself more.”

Lance left the Queen mansion feeling light-hearted and satisfied. Beforehand, he had been terrified at the thought of even considering Oliver as a son. Now a days…. he embraced it with open arms.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the rich, magnificent curtains hanging in Thea Queen’s bedroom. Beams of the light fell in bands across the king-sized bed, hitting the occupants. As the sunlight fell onto Thea’s eyelids, she groaned and turned over to hide her face in the light, twisting her sheets around her body, reaching out to pull the warm body curled up beside her closer. A deep rumble erupted from the other occupant in the bed as he dragged Thea onto his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair deeply and exhaling with a sigh.

Thea raised her head, still in a sleep-driven haze and hummed softly when her own eyes met light blue ones. Roy gave a faint chuckle, causing his chest to vibrate. Since Thea was on top of it, she whined as the vibration passed through her, waking her even further up. Roy bowed his head to press a soft kiss to her forehead and used one hand to flick a lock of hair out of Thea’s face.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

“Hmm. Morning,” Thea replied, nuzzling into her boyfriend’s chest.

“Hmm. What time is it?” Roy asked sleepily.

Thea craned her neck back to catch a glimpse of her bedside clock and sighed. “It’s nearly ten.”

“We should get up,” Roy murmured, but he made no move to rise.

“Yeah, we should,” Thea agreed, refusing to move off of her boyfriend’s firm chest, humming again in contentment as she hugged her arms around Roy’s torso.

They both stayed in exactly the same place for a few minutes, happy to remain in their dozy haze of happiness and warmth, wrapped in each other’s arms. Suddenly, though, there was a loud knock on the door. Thea yelped in surprise, instantly fully awake as she slid sideways off of Roy’s chest. Roy snapped upright so quickly that he toppled off of the bed altogether. He scrambled to grab a sheet to wrap around his naked form and Thea did the same, her cheeks coloured red in embarrassment.

“Thea, breakfast’s ready,” Moira called through the door.

“Okay, Mom,” Thea yelled back. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She motioned desperately for Roy to get changed and escape out of the window. Luckily, her boyfriend wasn’t completely stupid and already had his boxers and shirt on, and he was now yanking on his pants hurriedly. Thea quickly grabbed some of her sleeping slacks and a spare loose t-shirt that she often went down to breakfast in if she couldn’t be bothered to get changed.

Roy was just about to clamber out of the window when Moira called, “And tell Roy that he’s welcome to join us. It would be impolite for him not to, considering he’s spent the last two months jumping out of the window to avoid confronting Oliver and I.”

Roy turned to Thea with an expression like a deer caught in the headlights. Thea waved her arms, trying to tell him he should still go, that she could deny it. They argued silently for a minute or two, with violent arm gestures and facial expressions.

Finally, Roy just shouted out, “Thanks, Mrs Queen.”

“Roy!” Thea hissed.

“You’re welcome, Mr Harper,” Moira replied through the door, sounding smug. “We’ll see you both in a few minutes.”

Once they were both certain Moira was gone, Thea snatched a pillow from the bed and began whacking her boyfriend with it, muttering expletives at him. Roy took the beating with a sheepish look, closing the window. Finally, Thea just huffed and gave up. She conveyed with a silent glare that Roy should smarten up slightly and deal with his bedhead, before she began trying to comb out her own, applying basic make up and pulling on her slippers. Within five minutes both of them were prepared to head downstairs to breakfast.

Thea strode down the stairs with her usual elegance and confidence, and Roy followed behind, his posture much more hesitant and wary. Roy was expecting them to head into the large dining room, but instead Thea led him into a section of the house he had never been in before. Thea opened the door and ushered him in, closing it behind him.

It was a large, modern style kitchen, with white tiles, marble countertops, stainless steel sinks and glass cabinets. There was a traditional wooden table in the corner of the room with four wooden backed chairs surrounding it; Moira was seated in one of them, leaning on her elbow with her elbow supported by the chair back. She was watching Oliver move about the kitchen because Thea’s older brother was… cooking breakfast.

“Ollie,” Thea greeted her brother with a wide grin, brushing past him with a pat to her brother’s bicep, leaning against one of the marble counters.

“Morning, Speedy,” Oliver nodded, smiling. He turned to Roy and said, in a much flater voice, “Roy.”

“Hey,” Roy nodded. “You’re cooking breakfast?”

“Yep. Bacon, sausages, eggs, toast -” Oliver jogged backwards to grab a half slice of the buttered toast and passed it to his sister, who immediately stuffed it in her mouth, starving. “How do you like your eggs, Roy?”

“Er, whatever Thea’s having, thanks.” Roy was more shocked than anything else. Oliver Queen, cooking breakfast? And the archer looked right at home in the kitchen, moving around with practised ease, grilling bacon, flipping sausages in a pan and systematically making coffee. Roy couldn’t keep it in any longer. He pointed at Oliver and said, “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, well,” Oliver shrugged, passing around cups of coffee to all of them and then pouring himself a glass of OJ. “Not many people do. But on the island I had to learn. Not much there to cook with, mind you.” He began cracking the eggs into a hot pan. “Mostly just wild birds, the occasional deer or wild pig. Any root vegetables or plants we could find.”

“I don’t know how you survived,” Thea sighed, shaking her head in disgust. “I wouldn’t have been able to cope without chocolate.”

Oliver barked out a short laugh. “Yeah, I missed chocolate. Icecream as well.” He shot a glance at them over his shoulder. “I dreamt about icecream, you know. Sounds crazy, I know, but I actually dreamt about eating icecream.” He turned around with the hot pan and fried eggs in hand. “Food’s ready. I’ll dish out, Thea, Roy, you wanna sit down?”

The two sat, next to each other, so Thea was opposite her mother. Oliver placed plates down in front of them all before settling down into his own seat, opposite Roy. Smiling softly, he motioned for them all to tuck in. They made small talk as they ate, but of course, the conversation ended up turning to Oliver and Roys’ night jobs.

“- And then Lance straight up told the SCPD Commissioner, basically just admitted it, straight to his face, that he was working with Team Arrow, and man, you should have seen the Commissioner’s face,” Roy laughed.

Oliver pointed his fork at Roy, nodding. “Yeah, that I admit was hilarious. We still owe Lance for that one. Didn’t we say we’d get him a new phone or something?”

Roy snapped his fingers. “Right! One of those Cobalt-encrypted smart phones we all have. He wants one of those.” He laughed. “I don’t know how you’re gonna convince Felicity to make him one. She only made you one for your birthday, and me for Christmas.”

Oliver took another bite of a rasher of bacon, shrugging. “Felicity won’t mind. Lance acts like her father, and she loves it. She’s practically the third Lance daughter.”

“And Quentin loves to think it too,” Moira added. “I think it’s understandable. He doesn’t get to see Sara often because she’s with the League and Laurel’s very busy with being the Assistant District Attorney.” She sighed. “Laurel and Sara were always quite independent girls. I remember Quentin used to be terrified when they weren’t at home.”

“What was he terrified of?” Thea raised her eyebrows.

“What all parents are terrified of I suppose.” Moira sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “In Quentin’s case… spiked drinks, drugs, boyfriends -”

“Speaking of boyfriends,” Oliver cut in, placing his cutlery down. He shot Roy a dangerously calm, yet cold smile. “So Roy, how long have you been sneaking in through my sister’s window to sleep with her?”

Thea groaned, facepalming using the hand that she had been leaning on. “Ollie…”

“Actually, I would like to know the answer to that question as well,” Moira said in an overly-pleasant voice, leaning forwards slightly.

Roy once again looked terrified, like he was a rabbit having been spotted by a predator. The predator, in this case, being either Oliver or Moira. Thea closed her eyes tightly, wincing.

Roy swallowed. “I honestly can’t think of an answer that won’t end up with me so shot full of arrows I look like a porcupine.”

Oliver’s eyes were like lasor beams. “And why would that be, hmm?”

“Wow, I just remembered!” Thea piped up, deciding that now would be the proper time to save her boyfriend before he ended up permanently crippled for life. She jumped up and tugged Roy with her. “I have to meet up with Sin in an hour. Roy, would you be so kind as to escort me in the Glades, please?”

“Whoa, not so fast, Speedy,” Oliver growled, standing quickly and swiftly blocking the exit. “I think Mom and I deserve an explanation. The truth, please. Now.”

“Ollie -” Thea started, trying to sound placating but ending up sounding as if she was giving Oliver a warning.

“No, Thea, really - you stay exactly where you are, Roy!” Oliver barked, pointing at him. Roy had been trying to sneak around the side of the kitchen to exit from behind the archer, and he flinched when his and Oliver’s eyes met. “We’re not done yet! We’re having a very pointed discussion about you spending your nights in my sister’s bed, right after this.”

“And what is this, exactly, hmm?” Thea raised her eyebrows. “An intervention or something? You know, you were never very good at those, Ollie, despite the fact that Mom and Dad made you suffer through plenty.”

“This isn’t about me, Thea,” Oliver said firmly. “This is about you and Roy.”

“If this is about our relationship -” Thea began angrily.

“I am perfectly fine with your relationship. In fact, I am delighted that you have found somebody like Roy, who can protect you and loves you, and makes you happy.” Oliver looked between the two of them, with narrowed eyes. “But I would appreciate the truth about what’s been going on with this whole ‘sneaking in by window’ thing.”

“Like you were so forthcoming about the truth when you got back from the island,” Thea spat at him, glowering but gripping Roy’s hand tightly.

“This isn’t like that, Thea, and you know it,” Oliver retorted. “We all know by now that not telling the truth ends up with people hurt, so why don’t we just sit down and for once, just be honest and -”

Thea snarled straight back, punching her brother in the chest. “My not-telling-the-truth doesn’t actually hurt anybody.” She let go of Roy’s hand to shove Oliver into the door frame with both her hands. “Your not-telling-the-truth resulted in my half-brother being buried under a building and crushed to death, and Mom nearly being stabbed through the chest with a freaking sword by that psycho ex-friend of yours from Lian Yu! So I don’t think you, of all people, have any right to start going on about how ‘honesty is the best policy’ and all that jazz, Oliver.”

Thea instantly knew that she had pushed it too far when Oliver didn’t push back from the door frame to get right up into her face to argue back. Instead, her brother swallowed, his eyes slamming shut as he bowed his head. The only sound in the room was Thea’s harsh breathing. Oliver slipped out of the door frame, but not towards them - he stumbled slightly back out of the room, refusing to meet any of their eyes.

Moira made a faint noise of concern just as Thea tried to step forwards, whispering, “Ollie, I didn’t mean -”

But the archer had already made a hasty escape. Thea tilted her head back, internally swearing at herself for pushing their argument this far. It was an unspoken arrangement that they wouldn’t bring up Tommy Merlyn or Slade Wilson in their arguments, and Thea had just done both, in the space of a few minutes. Roy’s hand snaked over to take hold of hers again, and he squeezed it tightly, as if trying to tell her not to worry. But Thea had to - she had just gone and pushed away her brother, again, just when things had started to get better between them.

“I shouldn’t have said any of that,” Thea muttered, when Roy pulled her in for a reassuring embrace. “I’m a bad sister.”

“You’re a good girlfriend,” Roy offered, resting his chin on top of her head.

Thea shot him a glare without any heat. “Not helping, Mr Harper.” She reached up onto her tip toes to press a brief kiss to his lips before sighing against them, rocking back against her heels, smoothing down his shirt with one hand.

“I think you’d better go, Roy,” Moira told him, not unkindly. She offered him a small smile, but her concern for her son still shone through. “Thank you for joining us for breakfast.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Roy nodded. “And, er, tell Oliver thanks for cooking. It was great.” He kissed Thea on the forehead quickly before departing.

After a few moments, Thea heaved a deeper sigh, putting her head into her hands as she leant back against the counter. Moira leant back next to her, placing one hand gently on her daughter’s shoulder, looking weary herself. A silence fell over them like a blanket, but it wasn’t an awkward one. For a few minutes, both mother and daughter were content to remain quiet. It wasn’t often they got time to enjoy the peace of silence, but this time, the silence wasn’t a happy one.

Thea finally shook her head, standing up straight. “I need to go find him and apologise,” she muttered, heading for the door.

“Thea.” Moira caught her fingers and gently pulled her daughter back, leading her over to the table so they could both sit down in chairs. “Don’t. Give him space. If I have learnt anything about your brother since he’s been back, it’s that running after him does not make things better. Sometimes Oliver needs to be alone to think things out. Now is one of those times.”

“Mom, he’s going to sit alone somewhere in complete darkness and brood about the Undertaking and the Siege,” Thea pleaded. “He already blames himself enough. I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”

“And Oliver knows that in his heart,” Moira assured her quietly. “And later on, when you speak to him, you’ll drill that those events weren’t his fault even further into his head. But for now, I think he just needs some quiet.”

“Okay,” Thea said in a small voice. “Okay, I can give him quiet.”

“Oh, come here, baby.” Moira wrapped her arms around her daughter with a deep sigh. Thea just closed her eyes and leaned into the hug as much as she could without toppling off of her chair, their breathing evening out so it was in sync, and gently stirring the dust particles in the air.

The Queen Family Drama was never going to end. And to be honest, they didn’t really want it to.

Chapter Text

Moira marched into the Arrow Cave and announced, “Felicity, Sara, you’re both having a day off. You’re coming to the spa with Thea and I and we’re going to have a girls day with just the four of us. Walter is looking after Connor, your team is staying here and nobody of the male gender is going to be allowed anywhere near you.”

If Felicity and Sara were anything, it was gobsmacked. Sara placed her bo-staff back on her weapons rack and shot the other blonde a look. Diggle, Roy and Oliver were glancing between them all, wide-eyed and confused. After a moment, Felicity just shrugged, stood up and pulled her jacket on.

“No arguments from me,” she said. “You can smell the testosterone in here. I need a day without men surrounding me.”

“Me neither,” Sara agreed. “As much as I love working with you, Ollie,” she shot towards the archer, “Sometimes the brooding shirtless-ness gets annoying. Let’s go.”

…………………………..

“Oooh my god. Goooood.”

Moira glanced up sideways, amused, as Felicity limply lay on a bed with one of the spa ladies massaging her shoulders. Thea was currently reading a magazine while getting a pedicure and Sara was having her nails painted a lethal shade of black.

“Hmmmm,” Felicity groaned in content as another knot was worked out of her shoulder.

“You know, I don’t know whether to be amused or alarmed that you’re making orgasm noises at this point,” Thea chuckled.

Felicity hummed again happily. “Don’t judge. Sara gets to leap around off rooftops and swing from the salmon ladder; I just sit at my desk hunched over my set-up all day and night. Forgive me if I’m a little wound up.”

“Are you complaining that you’re an IT nerd?” Sara raised an eyebrow.

“God no,” Felicity replied at once. “I love being your IT nerd.” She paused. “Not your IT nerd, the team’s IT nerd, but if I belong to anybody, I belong to Oliver and oh god, this has escalated very quickly into awkward accidental sexual reference territory and I’m gonna back out and shut up now before I embarrass myself any further.”

“This happens to you a lot, doesn’t it?” Moira questioned sympathetically.

“You have no idea.” Felicity sighed and rolled over as the spa lady finished up and prepared to start her pedicure. “I have no filter at all.”

“Bet that can be attractive,” Thea smirked.

Moira barked, “Thea!”

“Ollie thinks it’s cute,” Sara offered.

“Nuh uh, Oliver doesn’t count.” Felicity shook her head as she picked out a dark emerald green for her nails. “Oliver always thinks I’m cute. It’s required, he’s my boyfriend. Not that it's like, something he has to think, the reason he's going out with me is because he thinks I'm cute, and probably there are other reasons as well..." She winced. "And no offence but I really don’t wanna talk about my relationship with Oliver in front of his mom and sister. That pushes the boundaries of the awkwardness scale.”

“You have no idea how relieved we were when you and Ollie finally got together,” Thea commented, glancing up from her Vogue magazine, amused. “Every time you guys are in a room together, it’s like nobody else exists. He follows you around like a lost puppy.”

“I wouldn’t say lost,” Felicity rolled her eyes. “But I can’t argue with the puppy part. Luckily, I love dogs.”

“Really? I would’ve thought of you as more as a cat person,” Moira commented as one of the spa attendents began painting her nails red to match her dress for the gala she was attending the next day.

Felicity shook her head. “Nah, I’m a dog person all the way. I had a dog just before I met Oliver actually, when I first arrived in Starling after finishing MIT.” Her expression turned wistful. “He was called Rhaegal, he was an Australian Shepherd.”

Thea stopped and put down her magazine, frowning before a grin broke out over her face. “Oh my god, you named your dog after Rhaegal the dragon from Game of Thrones? Why am I not surprised?”

Sara snapped her fingers. “Rhaegal’s the greeny-yellow dragon, right?”

“Technically, he’s green and bronze, with yellowish wings,” Felicity corrected absentminedly. “But yeah, my dog scared away drunk gangbangers trying to break into my apartment the second night I got him, and it really reminded me of the way the dragon was really protective of Daenerys, so Rhaegal he became.” Her expression shifted slightly as she sighed sadly. "He was a shelter dog though and already quite old, so he had to be put down due to illness after a while." She frowned. "Huh, actually, if I think about it, he was put down only two months before Oliver came back from the island."

"I can so imagine you naming your pets after your favourite book and TV characters though," Sara laughed. "I mean, naming your dog Rhaegal? Pretty nerdy, Felicity."

“Are you referencing that TV show with the magic, dragons, incest and decapitation?” Moira questioned.

“Yes,” Felicity, Sara and Thea all answered all at once.

Moira just sighed and shook her head, picking up her magazine and skimming through it again, muttering about ‘kids these days’. The other girls just shrugged and resumed their relaxation, discussing random things idly and enjoying their spa day away from the boys and the tension of the Arrow Cave.

After ten minutes of comfortable silence of so, Thea put down her magazine, quirking an eyebrow. “So, Felicity, when are you expecting Oliver to pop the question?”

“Thea…” Moira said warningly.

“You can’t expect me to think you don’t want to know the answer to that question as well,” Thea snapped at her mother.

Felicity blinked innocently. “What question are we talking about here?”

“The big one,” Sara prompted. At Felicity’s confused look, she oh so helpfully elaborated, “You know. THE question.”

Felicity still looked puzzled.

“I honestly can’t believe you call yourself a certified genius sometimes when you don’t even know what ‘the question’ refers to, ‘Lis,” Thea groaned.

Moira took pity on her son’s girlfriend. “When do you think Oliver is going to propose?”

Felicity instantly blushed, and ducked, red-faced and struggling for words as she uttered out, “Oh. Oh. That question. The - uh. Okay. Uh…” She flicked a stray lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it.”

Sara tilted her head, shooting her the ‘come on, gurl, don’t play that game’ look. “Felicity, you live together, you share a bed, you’re practically married already, I bet you’ve even talked about the kids situation.”

“We have not!” Felicity squawked. “And anyway, Oliver and I agreed that even if we were going to have kids, we’d talk it over with Connor first before -” She cut off, blushing an even deeper red.

“You have sooo talked about it,” Thea squealed. “Oh my god, am I going to be an auntie?”

“You already are an auntie, Thea. Connor is your nephew.”

“Yeah, but I missed out buying baby clothes for him and babysitting him and stuff,” Thea said defensively. “It’s great going riding with him and taking him to charity galas and all, but I never got to hold him as a baby.”

“I get the point, you want Oliver and I to have a baby.” Felicity sighed and picked up a magazine of her own to flick through as she examined the green colour of her nails in approval. “Back to the proposal point. Yes, we’re talked about it, not much, but we have. But we decided everything’s perfect as it is, we’re together and happy. We don’t see how a piece of paper is going to change that.”

“When you two get engaged,” Thea pointed at her. “Mom and I are planning the wedding. No buts, ‘Licity. No objections.” She sighed dreamily. “I’m thinking white. Lots and lots of white, paired with a lot of emerald green. Hmm. Yeah. Bride in white dress, bridesmaids in green, groom in a black tux with a green tie -”

“Don’t you think green is a little too harsh to have at a wedding?” Sara frowned.

“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself there, Thea,” Moira told her daughter, as if she hadn’t even heard Sara. Then she flashed a smile. “Before thinking of the dresses, you have to think about the location…”

“Yes! Something exotic, maybe abroad. Lake Como, Italy… the Bahamas, Hawaii, Corto Maltese. Beaches and sand and the heat!”

Sara turned to Felicity. “It’s like we’re not even here.”

“I know, right?”

“Wait, the island thing might not sit so well with Ollie… so maybe not abroad. But we could go big, elaborate, right here in Starling!” Thea was bouncing in her seat. “It would be the wedding of the century!

Moira nodded enthusiastically. “It would be front page for weeks. And of the course, we’d have to have a fantastic cake.”

“Oh, it would have to be classy,” Thea agreed. “Either classic victoria, coffee and walnut, rich fruit or chocolate hazulnut fudge.”

“No nuts!” somebody called out.

The four of them looked up in surprise. Oliver was striding towards them casually, flashing wide grins at all the swooning spa attendents as he made his way towards them, dressed casually in a pair of light tan pants and a tight-fitting blue shirt, cuffs rolled up to below his elbows.

Thea, however, just shrieked and covered her eyes. “No! It’s a male man person! They can’t be here! It’s meant to be a female woman only day! Go away, horrible intruder of the opposite gender!”

Oliver rolled his eyes with a playful grin as he stood in front of the four women, hands in pockets and appearing completely relaxed, however Felicity and Sara could see the tightness of his shoulders and the tensed alertness of his body. “Very funny, sis,” Oliver teased. “But seriously, though, no nuts. Felicity is severly allergic.”

Moira replied, surprised, “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“And that’s something we probably should know, considering the number of family brunches and dinners we have at home,” Thea added, unimpressed.

Oliver ignored his sister completely, seemingly deep in thought. “I think we’d prefer to keep the wedding close to home,” Oliver said, his blue eyes easily meeting Felicity’s and they both exchanged easy, warm smiles with each other. They knew each other well. “Have the reception in the mansion grounds. Keep it only close friends and family.”

“So you have been thinking about a wedding!” Thea crowed triumphantly.

“I’m not opposed to marrying Felicity. In fact, I would love to. But we’re not like that.” Oliver reached forwards to take one of Felicity’s hands and caressed its palm with his thumb, smiling softly at her. “Our love surpasses a useless piece of paper.”

“That’s what I said,” Felicity nodded, meeting his lips as her boyfriend leant down to kiss her quickly, brushing one of his hands through her hair.

“We’d have a rabbi as well,” Oliver said as he straightened again. “Felicity’s Jewish. And we’d have to sort out travel arrangements for Donna and Team Flash.” He sighed. “On a completely different note, unfortunately I’m gonna have to tear Sara away.”

Sara stood up and began packing up her things. “What’s happened?” she demanded.

“Nothing bad,” Oliver reassured.

“Ollie…”

“Well, unless you count your girlfriend coming to visit bad.”

Sara immediately perked up. “Nyssa’s here?”

“She didn’t bring her assassin friends with her, did she?” Felicity asked, obviously concerned as she sat up slightly in her chair. “Not that I don’t like her assassin friends. They’re cool, they helped us with Slade and the Mirakuru men. But wait no, they’re not cool at all, and I can’t really like them because I’ve never spoken to them, never spoke to any of them while they were here. Not because I didn’t want to speak to them, but because they speak Arabic. And I don’t speak Arabic.”

Fortunately, at that point everybody seemed to have gotten used to Felicity's babbling and they all just smiled at her; Oliver was grinning at her with a biggest smile on his face Thea and Moira had ever seen, and Sara looked between the two of them happily, almost proudly.

“I’ve never met your girlfriend, Sara,” Moira said, interested.

“She’s scary,” Felicity replied immediately.

Sara rolled her eyes, shrugging on her jacket. “She’s not scary, Felicity.”

“Intimidating, then,” Felicity insisting. “I mean, come on, when she found out Oliver and I were together, she sharpened her swords in front of him for weeks after.”

“That’s true,” Oliver nodded.

“That’s because she likes you,” Sara told Felicity. “It’s actually a little bit creepy how fond she is of you; I’d feel threatened if I didn’t know you were already a taken woman.” The Canary paused, sending a look over at Oliver. “Also, I don’t think she likes Oliver much.”

“Well, I did date you before she did. And we dated very briefly when you first came back to Starling,” Oliver shrugged. “So yeah, I can imagine she doesn’t like me much.”

“I think she’s more pissed at the fact that you used me to cheat on Laurel and at the fact I got on the Gambit with you and almost drowned, twice,” Sara added. “But yeah, I suppose the fact you’re my ex adds tension.”

“It explains why she takes such pleasure in bruising me during our occasional training sessions,” Oliver responded dryly, crossing his arms.

“Alright, it’s settled, you’ve piqued my interest,” Moira commented, standing and shaking her hands to dry her nail varnish. “I think I might tag along and meet this Nyssa.”

“Yeah, me too,” Thea agreed, stretching. “Anybody able to bruise Ollie must be absolutely awesome.”

“You’ll love her, she’s so cool,” Felicity reassured her. “She’s the heir to an assassin army empire in the Middle East, a massive cliff temple with a network of creepy catacombs and caves that I’m pretty sure are used as dungeons and over ten billion dollars worth of resources.”

Thea blinked before muttering, “I’m not touching the dungeon thing with a ten foot pole.”

TO BE CONTINUED