Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is the worst night of her life.

Pacing back and forth under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room, Felicity chews her thumbnail nervously. Her eyes are focused on the ground and she’s not paying attention to anything going on around her, too lost in her thoughts.

It’s been hours since she got here. Hours.

Okay, maybe it hasn’t been hours, she thinks with a glance at the clock on the wall.

But in her defence, the ambulance hadn’t arrived here until after one am - after the… incident - and her brain gets all wonky after midnight when she doesn’t refuel it with caffeine.

She pictures him all sprawled out on the floor, the sheer panic she’d felt racing through her veins as she’d struggled to find his pulse. That’s something she never wants to do again, but at least her First Aid training had finally come in handy.

Stopping abruptly, she closes her eyes, takes a cleansing breath. Or what is supposed to be a cleansing breath anyways, according to Iris, the meditation guru. Felicity can’t count the number of times her friend has forced her into meditating with her, leading to Felicity doing ridiculous things like reciting all the numbers of pi instead of relaxing or, you know, doing anything actually productive.

But then with her eyes closed, the way his eyes had crinkled when she initially spoke to him is suddenly all she can see. And then all she can see is him unconscious on a stretcher and she shakes her head firmly.

That feeling lurches in her tummy again and she forcefully tells her brain to move on. Do not go there. He’s going to be fine.

It’s bad enough that he’s in a hospital. It’s also completely embarrassing. But she feels terrible, absolutely horrible, and she hadn’t been able to let him go all alone in the ambulance. Something inside of her wouldn’t stand for him to be out of her sight.

So she’d quickly leapt into the ambulance, without thinking about anything beyond staying with the unconscious and completely gorgeous guy on the stretcher, before the paramedics slammed the doors. And now here she is, pacing around ER at 2am on a Saturday night, waiting for news about a complete stranger’s condition.

This is completely Iris’s fault.

If Iris hadn’t dragged her out to the bar in the first place, none of this would have happened. Everyone knows that the club scene is not Felicity Smoak’s scene. She is infinitely more comfortable behind her computer screen than on the dance floor.

But she’s also a good best friend. And good friends tag along when said best friend has just been dumped by her fifth boyfriend this year. Something that Iris had bemoaned about a thousand times last night, until Felicity had wanted to strangle her.

But she partly agrees, which is why she supported Iris’s idea of getting out there and moving on with her life. Guys suck. It’s part of the reason Felicity has sworn them off. Of course the other part is that her ex-boyfriend Cooper completely used her for her computer coding skills, but that is another story.

Luckily, some handsome guy had approached them and invited Iris to dance, which meant Felicity was free to sit at the bar and nurse a glass of wine. Definitely something more her speed. Unfortunately, this all led to her currently being in the ER, which is not quite so lucky.

Man, his eyes were so blue though.

Nope. Not going there. He is so out of your league, it’s not even funny, she firmly tells herself.

“Excuse me, miss?” A quiet voice breaks her out of her thoughts and Felicity whirls around to find a doctor standing behind her. “You’re with Mr. Queen, right?”

“Who?” She stares blankly at him for a second before cluing in. “Oh! Mr. Queen! Yes, yes, I’m with him. I mean, I’m not with him, but I came in with him. In the ambulance. I don’t know him, actually, but I was responsible so I came with him…” She lets the words trail off before sending the doctor a small smile. “Sorry. I tend to babble. Especially late at night.”

The doctor doesn’t outwardly react besides a small raise of her eyebrows. “Right. Well, Mr. Queen should be waking up any moment now. You’re free to go in and sit with him. We’ve contacted his emergency contact but weren’t able to get ahold of anyone. Reception will keep trying, but we’d appreciate it if you could stay until someone else is able to come. He likely has a concussion but we can’t test until he’s awake.”

The doctor waits for a response, as though this is all completely normal and she gets medical information about total strangers every day but Felicity is wholly caught off guard. She manages a small nod, trying to remember everything the doctor just told her.

“Oh. Oh, uh, okay.” She bobs her head quickly in agreement.

“Right over there,” the doctor says, gesturing towards a bed protected by a drab white curtain. “Go on.”

Felicity nods, butterflies suddenly erupting in her stomach. The doctor quickly leaves, on her way to address the next patient in line. Taking the couple of steps to the curtain, Felicity reaches out and opens it a crack, peeking into the space behind.

It’s dimly lit by a small bedside lamp. The bed is small which completely exaggerates his size. Or does it? He was a whole lot taller than her in her heels, she remembers, which would place him around six feet. Not to mention his body.

She quickly steers her thoughts away from that path, because it’s completely creepy to be ogling him and thinking about his body while he’s unconscious. And that’s ignoring the fact that he’s basically a complete stranger.

He’s asleep, just like the doctor said and she mentally shakes her head. What else did she expect? Stepping inside the curtain, she lets it fall shut behind her, enveloping her in semi-quiet. As quiet as you can get in the middle of the Starling City ER.

Mr. Queen. She wonders what his first name is. They didn’t get to that point at the bar. They didn’t really get to any point, beyond him sitting beside her and her asking him to watch her drink for a moment. Which she knows is not appropriate bar behaviour, but there was something trustworthy about him and she had desperately needed to pee and her glass was more than half full and there was no way she was taking it to the bathroom with her.

Anyways. The tiny hospital bed definitely emphasizes his giant-ness, she decides. She had noticed that straightaway. Broad, defined shoulders beneath a blue plaid button up, strong, muscly forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves. Paired with the chiseled jaw covered in just the right amount of scruff, the striking cheekbones, the piercing eyes, he’s easily the most attractive person she’s ever seen.

He really looks quite peaceful, she thinks, besides the massive bruise blossoming near his temple.

A niggle of guilt snakes through her at the sight.

It she wasn’t such a complete klutz, his beautiful face wouldn’t be half black and blue.

“Beautiful?”

The voice is rough and groggy and masculine and goddammit it’s fracking sexy, too. Is there anything unattractive about this guy?

In the bed, his eyes crack open, thin slivers of blue visible between tired lids. She watches as he blinks slowly, confusion evident on his face as he realizes where he is.

“Am I in the hospital?” His voice is incredulous. He looks around like he might be dreaming.

Felicity nods, a blush rising to her cheeks. “My fault.”

A puzzled look mars his face as his brows furrow in thought. “You were at the bar. The beautiful blonde with the red wine.”

“No, you’re the beautiful one.” The words escape before they’re even a fully formed thought and if her face was pink before it’s now a full on red. “I mean. Uh, thank you?”

A small smile graces his face, which quickly turns to a grimace as he tries to sit up.

Felicity rushes forwards, pushing both hands on his chest to force him back down onto the bed. Good god, that chest is just as firm as it looks. Those pecs… He must spend hours in the gym. He doesn’t fight her, just lays back down, which is good. He’s definitely like a hundred times stronger than her.

“Whoa there, buddy. You hit your head pretty hard. The doctor said you might have a concussion. You need to stay right here under me.”

He freezes and then a smile breaks out on his face. It’s like the sun coming out after a rainstorm. As much as she loves rainy days, that moment when the sun breaks through the clouds makes things so much brighter and his face just glows as she stares down at him.

And then she realizes what just came out of her mouth.

“Oh my God! I didn’t mean under me, under me. I just meant on the bed. Ugh, not all sexy-times-like. Not that you wouldn’t want to do that, I’m sure you do that all the time. Oh- I don’t mean to imply that you have sex all the time, although it is a completely normal and healthy activity and it’s actually quite good for your heart and holy moly I cannot stop talking. Please stop me before I absolutely die of embarrassment.” She covers her face with her hands, muffling her last words.

He doesn’t stop her, and when she lets her hands fall back to his chest, he just continues to smile up at her. Which kind of reinforces the concussion thing in her opinion. Any other normal person would be trying to get as far away as possible, but he seems completely happy lying there, listening to her ramble.

Speaking of, her hands are still on his chest. She wrenches them away as though he’s on fire. If there’s a brief moment of loss, well she just attributes it to the fact that he’s so warm. Like a little furnace just pumping out heat on the hospital bed.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, taking a step back from the bed. Being that close to him is completely scrambling her brain.

He watches her, an amused look on his face. His eyes are clear and focused on her as she stands awkwardly by the curtain. He reaches for the button beside the bed to raise it to a partly-seated position. “So. How exactly did I end up in the hospital with a beautiful stranger,” he asks once he’s mostly vertical.

“What, uh- What do you remember?” she asks, because the less she has to explain, the better.

“Well, you were sitting at the bar alone. Drinking red wine. And I sat beside you?”

He says the last part as a question and she nods.

“That’s all I’ve got,” he says after a moment, with a little shrug.

“You got into a fight with this giant guy. He just came up and went at you and really, he had muscles bigger than yours, and you took him down but smacked your head right at the end there. It was quite impressive.”

He fixes her with a look.

“All right, all right. You sat down beside me and I had to go to the bathroom so I asked you to watch my drink. And then when I got up my shoe got caught on my purse strap and I tripped and you tried to catch me but I smacked you in the head with my wine glass and then we both fell but you also hit your head on the floor. Really hard.”

She cannot look at him. This is mortifying. But then she needs to look at him because he’s not saying anything.

His eyes widen a fraction and he looks kind of surprised, but otherwise he doesn’t react. How can he not react? She’s half his size and she’s caused him actual physical trauma. She basically gave him a head wound.

“Anyways, I just wanted to stick around until you woke up so I could apologize. Sorry! But like I said, the doctor thinks you might have a concession and asked me to stay with you until they can get ahold of your emergency contact.”

A dark look crosses his face. “You’re going to be waiting awhile for that,” he says, staring crossly into the distance.

“Oh. Okay, that’s okay. I don’t have any plans tonight. You know, besides sleeping, but who needs sleep anyways, right?”

He shoots her a look.

“Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

It’s her turn to fix him with a look. “Well you’ve got, you know, all that going on,” she says, waving a hand in his general direction. “It’s a little intimidating. But I knocked you out in the middle of a bar and escorted you, in an ambulance, to the ER. I think that means I shouldn’t be nervous anymore. I mean, it can’t get any worse than that, can it?”

As if on cue, the curtain is wrenched open with a shriek. “Ollie! Oh my God, Ollie, are you okay?”

Ollie. Well. That does not suit him at all. What’s that short for - Oliver? Looking back at the man on the bed, she runs the name over in her head. Yes. Oliver. He looks like an Oliver.

Felicity glances at the young brunette as she flits around his bed and wonders who she is to him. Girlfriend? The thought annoys her for a brief moment, before she tells herself that she has no hold on the guy she accidentally knocked unconscious.

Felicity looks back at the bed, as the girl flings her arms around him. No, way too young to be a girlfriend, she thinks once she catches a glimpse of the girl’s face again.

“Speedy, come on. Cut it out. I’m fine,” he says, gently pushing her away.

“Ollie, Mom got a call you were in the hospital! That is not the definition of fine!”

“I’m okay, I promise,” he says seriously, ducking his chin to look into her eyes. “Just a bump on the head.”

The girl scoffs. “I can see that. You’ve got a knot the size of Mount Everest on your head, Ollie. Mom’s going to kill you, we’re supposed to have that family shoot next week. That thing is going to need major photoshopping.”

Oliver just shrugs, a frown crossing his face. He looks away from the girl and back at Felicity, who has been standing against the curtain, blatantly watching the scene in front of her.

Well, it’s not like she can leave. The doctor ordered her to stay. Although, since this girl appears to know him, she figures maybe she is cleared to go now.

The thought of leaving isn’t quite as appealing as she thought it would be.

“Thea,” he says. “This is…” He trails off and she realizes that she’s been sitting with him for nearly an hour and hasn’t even introduced herself.

“Felicity!” She mentally smacks herself as her voice comes out super squeaky. “Felicity Smoak,” she adds and thank goodness that one is in a normal range. Biting her lip, she watches as he smiles slowly at her.

“Felicity.”

She shudders because she’s fairly sure that no one in her entire life has ever said her name like that. She would like to hear him say it a hundred more times.

“I’m Oliver,” he adds unnecessarily. “Queen.”

His eyes meet hers and his are so fracking blue that it’s unfair. Something unspoken passes between them and she can almost see what is going through his head. Then she remembers that she just met him and she should not feel this connected to a stranger, but something deep inside of her perks up and takes notice because this all just feels right.

It’s like something she never even knew was missing is now complete.

A shiver races down her spine at the thought.

“And I’m Thea. His sister.” Thea sticks her hand out, reaching over top of the hospital bed, breaking their lengthy gaze.

Felicity tears her eyes away from Oliver and shakes her hand, then jerks a thumb over her shoulder.

“Well. Your emergency contact is here, so I should probably spare you from any more embarrassing moments or accidental injuries and get going.”

She moves to gather her things, which is really just her purse and keys, and if she’s not mistaken, Oliver looks slightly disappointed. Thea nudges him with her elbow, dramatically wiggling her eyebrows at him, and he winces, then opens his mouth.

“Felicity. Wait. Uh, you don’t need to go just yet. I mean, if you don’t want to that is.”

It’s the middle of the night and her feet are killing her, but this is suddenly the best idea she’s ever heard.

“Okay,” she agrees and settles into the chair on her side of the bed, while Thea sinks into the one opposite.

“So. Tell me how you and my brother met,” Thea says.

Felicity looks at Oliver and he looks at her and they have a quick but silent conversation, before she wins and he opens his mouth to explain.

Well. Maybe this isn’t the worst night of her life.

Chapter Text

Felicity wakes up slowly, like she’s being eased into wakefulness, and she’s instantly confused, in that sleepy, floaty, the world is still blurry kind of way.

Partly because she’s fairly sure that she’s not in her bed. Or even in her bedroom, if the soft whirring that she can hear is any indication. Nothing whirrs in her bedroom because she’d never be able to sleep with all that noise every night.

Mostly she’s confused because all she can smell, feel, sense, is Oliver.

His scent is so distinct but she doesn’t even know what it is. Some soap he uses or aftershave maybe, although he keeps that scruffy stubble all the time now so she doesn’t even know if he shaves. He must, though, because his scruff never seems to grow past incredibly sexy.

It’s sort of a pine scent, drawing soothing images of trees and forests to mind, with undertones of leather and an Oliver-smell that she can’t quite put a name to.

It makes her want to snuggle into wherever she’s sleeping because it’s innately safe and warm, but also wake up immediately and move away as far as possible because being this close to him lately is like the most exquisite kind of torture.

Ever since that night, that night, when everything between them changed, yet didn’t at the same time, she’s felt like they’re doing this balancing act. He said that he loved her, but it was only because of the plan.

While she can’t seem to let go of the tiny nugget of hope that lives deep inside of her, shoved into the dark corner of things she tries not to examine too closely, the logical part of her knows he didn’t mean it. Because come on, he’s Oliver Queen and she’s just… not.

But he also didn’t take it back when she gave him the chance. He’d just smiled at her like an idiot, and she’d wanted to knock some sense into him, but she had just smiled back at him instead, because she’s a chicken when it comes to him.

And it’s been like that all summer. Sometimes she’s so sure that he meant it. That he sees her as more than tech support, as more than his good friend Felicity. His eyes tell her more than his words, especially when he thinks she isn’t paying attention and that tiny nugget flares to life again. But then the shutters will come down, like he’s reminding himself that he’s no good, that he can’t have good things, things that are his and she’s right back where she started, shoving her hope back into it’s place.

I just think that it’s better to not be with someone that I could really care about.

The words from months ago still play in her head. The acute pain she’d felt when she’d read between the lines of what he was saying. She’d said that he deserved better and she’d meant it. But it wasn’t that he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. And that made all the difference.

So she’s not going to sit around and pine after him. She is not that kind of girl.

No - she’s going to live her life: go out, go on dates, spend time with friends that she’s brushed off dozens of times this past year. She’s going to make a life for herself outside of the lair. Oliver is more than welcome to be a part of that life, but that’s his decision to make. Not hers.

Her brain on overdrive, Felicity tries to recall what she did last night. If the way her head is now pounding is any indication, it clearly involved copious amounts of wine.

Lifting a hand to her head, she opens bleary eyes to the world. The room is bright, too bright, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust before she can tell that she’s in the living room of her apartment. 

She turns her head, trying not to jostle him, figuring that he’ll wake at the slightest movement. He doesn’t stir though, his chest rising and lowering as he breathes the deep breaths of sound sleep. Oliver is sprawled out beside her, feet propped on her coffee table, one arm resting on the arm of the couch, the other thrown along her back, a solid band behind her as she curls into his side. His hand wraps around her hip, heat radiating from that single point of contact. Her head rests on his chest, his heart beating evenly under her ear. Her hand is millimetres in front of her nose, casually draped across him.

It’s closer than she’s been to him in weeks. Months. Ever. Although memories of swinging across an elevator shaft, of crashing onto the ground on the island come to mind, like her brain is trying to say ‘you totally do this all the time’. A shiver races through her. No, they’ve never slept together. Fallen asleep together! Not slept slept. She fell asleep on Oliver. That’s all.

Lifting a hand to her mouth, she quickly inspects for any traces of drool. There doesn’t seem to be any, thank god.

Her eyes trace over him and up to his face. It’s completely open and relaxed and now that she thinks of it, she doesn’t think that she’s ever seen him asleep before. Unconscious, sure, but that’s not the same thing. It’s like there have been years shaved off him and she wants to stay here, in this little bubble with him, forever.

But she really really needs to pee.

Debating back and forth, she turns her eyes to the room. There’s an empty bottle of wine on the table and two dirty glasses. The TV is off but there are a stack of DVD cases haphazardly stacked on the floor. Clearly they’d fallen asleep watching a movie.

It’s been a common activity this summer, something that makes her incredibly pleased. After noticing that Felicity wasn’t spending as much time as usual in the Foundry, Oliver had shown up to her apartment with a bottle of wine and a sheepish smile. She’d immediately invited him in and they’d started the long and arduous journey of updating his drastic lack of pop culture knowledge. Not only that, but for the first time in a long time, he’s spending time outside of the Foundry.

By choice.

She thinks that’s an important thing to note. Lots of the things Oliver does are things that he has to do, or things that other people think he needs to do. Very few are things that he chooses to do simply because he wants to. But this, this time that they spend together, sometimes with Diggle or Roy, is something just for him. It’s time for him to be himself and for them to get to know each other outside of their night job.

Seeing him choose something for himself makes her inexplicably proud. Which may be ridiculous because it’s usually just watching movies on her couch, but sometimes it feels like it’s building up to something. Something that she can’t name but it feels all-important just the same.

Eventually the need to pee is urgent, distracting her from her thoughts, and she regretfully slides out from under Oliver’s arm and heads to the bathroom.

When she returns, Oliver is slowly blinking his eyes open, looking around in confusion, like he’s lost something.

“Morning, sunshine,” she greets him, bypassing the couch in favour of the coffee maker. She knows from experience that this headache will only go away with caffeine. “Coffee?”

“Morning.” His voice is rough with sleep and he briskly rubs his hands over his face before standing. “Sure.”

She putters around the kitchen, fixing them coffee and determinedly not thinking about how incredibly domestic and normal this all feels.

Nope. Not going there.

Oliver trails after her, seating himself in one of the stools at her tiny bar-top counter. He props his chin in his hand as his eyes follow her movements. She can feel his gaze burning into the skin on her back, sending tingles down her spine and through her body. It’s deliciously comforting and incredibly distracting at the same time.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asks, because she’s going to drive herself crazy if she keeps overthinking these things in her head. Oliver is her friend. That’s all. “I know my couch isn’t the nicest but it’s pretty comfy, I think. It has good support, or so the guy who sold it to me said, and it’s pretty bouncy. Not that I jump on it or anything, I am an adult after all. Not that I do any adult activities on it either, I don’t have a sex couch or anything. Oh god, I need coffee.”

He laughs softly behind her as she stares resolutely at the coffeemaker, willing it to beep and signal it’s readiness. Her brain does not work before coffee and having Oliver in her kitchen, in such close quarters and all sleepy and rumpled and adorable, is scrambling it even more. She can still smell him, as though his scent has permeated her skin and taken up residence inside of her.

“Yeah, it was fine,” he responds in an even voice, and bless him, he never seems to be offended by her inappropriate babbles. “But, I do have a question.”

Something in his tone throws her off. She can’t quite place it. It’s almost light, joking, the opposite of serious, which tends to be his default… Turning to face him, she notes that there is indeed a small smile playing around his mouth.

“So. I understand the whole sleep talking thing,” he starts, “but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.”

Her mouth falls open. That may possibly have been the last thing she’d ever expected to come out of his mouth. “What?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

She nods along without thinking, mouth still hanging open, as though this is common knowledge. But… “Hang on. Wait. I do not talk in my sleep!”

Oliver smirks, that jerk. “Last night says otherwise. You passed out halfway through Star Trek and then babbled on and on in your sleep.”

This is potentially mortifying. Her brain is a scattered, fast paced, hard to control place to be when she’s awake. She can only imagine the nonsense and unfiltered thoughts that could possibly escape in her sleep.

“Oh God,” she moans, covering her face. “Please tell me I didn’t say anything completely embarrassing.”

He shakes his head, that same bemused smile still playing at his mouth. “Nah. Apparently you just subconsciously think of me as the princess of the story and not the dragon. Or the prince. Which is totally flattering and not at all emasculating.”

“Oh my God. Oliver, I’m so sorry,” she says, but then images from her dream come rushing back in flashes and she can’t help the giggles that escape her.

Because she had dreamed of him last night and he had been dressed in a very Princess Peach-esque dress. She’s also fairly sure that she may have been the dragon, blowing fire as he took cover in a tall stone tower.

Man. Her brain is weird.

Although maybe this is how she’s working through her recent Oliver issues… By dreaming that he’s unattainable and trying to set fire to him in her frustration. And also, he is royalty, so that part makes sense. Sort of.

Fortunately he doesn’t look annoyed, just amused, and then the coffee maker beeps and she lets out an excited squeal as she turns to pour the liquid gold. She slides a cup to Oliver and leans her elbows on the counter across from him, the image of him in a pouffy dress still playing in her mind.

“So what did you dream about? Now that we know all about my ability to completely embarrass myself even when asleep.” She shoots him an easy smile that he returns before looking down at the mug he holds between his hands.

Then Oliver meets her eyes, emotion shining clearly through. It makes her heart skip a beat, the genuine feelings she finds there, because it reminds her so clearly of the two of them standing in foyer of the Queen mansion, when he let those three little words slip out. She had searched his face for the lie, trying to find the cracks, and had come up empty, before he slipped the syringe into her hand and left her there with his words echoing in her heart.

Now he’s looking at her the same way, but they’re in her kitchen and it’s sunny and bright and there’s no madman coming to kidnap her, no syringe or secret plan that they’re trying to execute.

It’s just them, just Oliver and Felicity, and she can’t breathe because he’s looking at her with love shining in his eyes.

“I can’t tell you,” he says softly, as though he’s telling her the most precious secret. “If I tell you then it won’t come true.”

Something tells her that she wants his dream to come true, too.

Chapter Text

Before, Oliver Queen had never ridden the bus in his life. Before, he would have never stepped foot inside, or paid the fare, and he would have looked down on people who couldn’t afford their own car or driver.

But now, in mere months, he’s become one of those people.

Thanks to his parents and the poor decision they made before their deaths, he’s lost his company, his job, his family home, everything. It’s just gone, leaving nothing behind but the memories of times when he didn’t have to scrimp just to afford groceries for himself and Thea, his younger sister.

Now, instead of a sprawling manor with grounds to die for, he and Thea share a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the Glades. It’s the best thing they could find that wasn’t a complete wreck. He dresses in jeans and work boots instead of a suit and tie each day. His hands have become rough and weathered as he spends his days doing manual labour and things he’d never dreamed of doing.

And he takes the bus.

Every day.

The fucking bus.

Oliver can handle the apartment, the job, whatever else his shitty life has thrown at him, but something about the bus just grates at him. It might be the fluorescent orange plastic seats that make his ass numb if he sits too long, or the smell that just seems to surround him, especially when the blanket lady sits near him. Whatever it is, taking the bus is the worst part of his day.

But it’s unfortunately the only way that he can get to his job now that all of the Queen assets have been repossessed.

Settling into his seat, Oliver lets out a sigh. It’s a Thursday. It was a long day, but the week is looking up. It’s almost Friday, which means it’s almost the weekend. While weekends are distinctly less fun now that he has no money, weekends now also mean two days off from work, which is a positive in his book.

He’s gotten used to the manual labour, the long hours and usually backbreaking work, for the most part anyways. His body is getting stronger. He’s always been lean, but he has developed some legitimate muscle mass, especially in his upper body. It makes the job easier, which he’s thankful for, because now he can at least spend some time with Thea instead of passing out the moment he walks in the door.

Speaking of Thea, he’s getting worried about her. He knows what being a teenager is like. He was a teenager not that long ago. But Thea’s life has been turned upside down in the last six months. She’s changed schools, houses, lost nearly everything that she knew, and Oliver is pretty sure that her new school is much rougher than Starling Prep.

His sister is smart, but she can also be easily persuaded to do stupid things. Like drinking at school, smoking pot in the parking lot, breaking into the teacher’s lounge. And that’s just this month.

Oliver knows how to be a teenager, but he is not great at being a parent.

His parents have been gone for over a year, their fortune for half of that, and he wonders when things are going to get any easier.

The bus chugs along, making all the same stops. He’s got them memorized now, and while there are occasional newcomers, this route seems to have a collection of regulars that ride each day.

The roads of Starling speed by as they pull up to his favourite stop. It’s probably weird to have a favourite stop, but his life is pretty dismal and he’s not going to take away one of the bright spots in his days. The stop is across from a strip of small businesses, including a cash loan place, a computer repair store, and a small coffee shop.

He still doesn’t know which one she works at.

A girl in a bright purple coat stands under the bus sign, a polka dot bag slung over her shoulder. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and rectangular glasses are perched on her nose. He doesn’t know what perks him up, but something about her drew him in from the moment he laid eyes on her.

She hops aboard the bus, smiling brightly at the driver as she drops her token into the machine. She’s always cheerful despite the dark circles that seem to be a permanent fixture on her face. Always has a smile for the old woman sitting at the front. He subtly watches her make her way to the same seat she always sits in, right across the aisle from him.

One day, a few weeks after he started this job, she’d climbed on the bus for the first time. He remembers it like a punch in the gut because she’d been so vibrant and alive that he’d probably stared at her like some kind of savage. She was carrying a bright red bag that day and a striped travel coffee mug. After paying her fare, she’d turned to walk down the aisle and their eyes had met.

It seems stupid now, but something had passed between them. He swears he felt it reverberate through his bones. And he does not believe in love at first sight or any of that shit.

And then the bus took off and she’d stumbled. He’d leapt to his feet to catch her, and he had, but her coffee had also upended all over him. Luckily it hadn’t been hot, just lukewarm, but she’d immediately blushed and attempted to pat him dry everywhere, stammering out an apology over and over until he’d taken her hands in his and helped her into her seat.

“I’m so sorry. Really,” she’d said, blue eyes roaming over him and focusing particularly on the giant wet patches on his clothing. “I’m normally a really klutzy person but I’ve mostly gotten better at keeping it contained in public. Obviously this has to happen on the one day a totally hot guy rides the bus because I have the absolute worst luck in the world…”

She let the sentence trail off and then, if possible, blushed even harder once her words caught up with her.

Oliver had preened, because he didn’t exactly feel attractive anymore riding the bus in his dirty work clothes. Knowing that this beautiful girl thought he was attractive made his heart beat a little faster.

“It’s okay,” he’d told her, again, and she looked completely grateful that he was choosing to ignore her social blunder. “I hate this shirt anyways.”

Her lips had curved up in a small smile and she sat back in her seat before looking away and out the window.

They rode silently for the next half hour and then she’d stood up and apologized once more, bright blue eyes intent on his, before disembarking the bus.

He’d thought that would be that. He’d go home, eventually wash that shirt when he got time to go to the laundromat - the goddamn laundromat for fuck’s sake - and he’d never see her again.

However the next day she’d been waiting at the same stop. Different bag, same ponytail, no travel mug. Same cheery smile for the driver. But she’d studiously avoided his eyes after letting out a quick ‘eep’ when she caught sight of him.

After seating herself in the same seat across the aisle from him, she’d leaned her head against the window. Her eyes had closed not long after that and Oliver was left to wonder about the mystery blonde.

He had so many questions and he wished that she’d wake up so he could ask some of them.

But then they were drawing closer to her stop and she was still sleeping so he quickly pulled the string and leaned across the aisle.

Should he shake her? Tap her shoulder? He didn’t know her name, so he couldn’t call out to her… Was it weird to wake up a perfect stranger? He didn’t want her to miss her stop though. She looked like she was completely out. He had just hoped she wouldn’t panic when she awoke.

He settled on a hand on her shoulder and let it rest there for a moment. She didn’t wake up, just shifted in her sleep and let out a completely adorable little sigh, so he shook her a little.

She bolted upright, eyes wild. “Golden flowered encryptor!” she shouted, voice rough with sleep. Then she looked around in confusion before her eyes landed on him. “Oh!”

“I think this is your stop,” he said, retreating back to his seat so she could gather her things.

Her head whipped around to peer out the window as the bus slowed to a stop. “Um. Yes. It is. Thank you. Missing my stop would just be the cherry on top of a terrible day.”

He smiled at her, because he couldn’t seem to not smile at her, and she returned it, before quickly exiting the bus.

It becomes something of a routine. They ride the same bus every evening. At first it was random - sometimes she was wide awake and sometimes she looked exhausted. But in the last month it’s been everyday. She nearly always falls asleep. She always looks so tired and he wonders what’s changed. Something inside of him wants to help this girl that he sees each day, but he doesn’t actually know anything about her.

So instead, he helps her by making sure she gets home every night. He keeps an eye on her while she sleeps, pushes the button for her stop, gently shakes her awake when they draw close.

He especially looks forward to the gibberish that she spouts each time he wakes her up. It’s always some kind of nonsensical words that seem to surprise her just as much as they entertain him. Some he remembers, simply because they’d nearly made him burst out laughing - blueberry frosted cats, great galloping wineglasses, drastic amoeba farts.

After her initial confusion, she always turns those bright blue eyes to him in thanks. That’s his favourite part because that spark that he felt that first day is still there and when their eyes meet it sends a little zing shooting through him.

Today the bus isn’t very crowded, but she makes her way past three rows of empty seats to plop down in the one directly across from him with a loud sigh. She always chooses the same seat and something inside of him secretly loves it.

He sneaks another glance at her before looking away. She’s kind of slumped in her seat, head leaning against the window, like usual. Her hands fold protectively over her bag as it sits in her lap and her eyes slowly droop shut as the bus pulls away from the curb.

Why he does it today, he doesn’t know. He’s watched her fall asleep for months across the aisle without doing anything but wake her at her stop. But today he slips out of his seat and into the one beside hers. She’s sound asleep already, breathing deeply and fogging up the window on each exhale. Being nearer to her feels good, feels right. He hopes she feels the same and doesn’t think he’s some weirdo taking advantage of her while she’s asleep.

The bus dips into a pothole and jerks them both into the air. She slides slightly into him and his hand lifts to her shoulder to make sure she doesn’t fall over. She doesn’t even wake up and he wonders if her job is stressing her out, not letting her sleep. Maybe she has a boyfriend, or even a baby, keeping her up at night - and the thought of the boyfriend, especially, makes him more annoyed than it should.

They’re getting close to her stop so he repeats his usual routine - push the button, hand on the shoulder, slight shake, but this time she turns her body towards him, all curled up in her seat. Her forehead is millimetres away from his shoulder and his stomach lurches. Her eyes open slowly, revealing small slivers of blue.

She blearily smiles up at him, still half asleep. There’s no random outburst and he misses it for half a second, until she opens her mouth, tipping her chin towards him, and softly says, “Hi”.

“Hi,” he returns, and thinks that he could spend forever gazing at that beautiful smile. “I’m Oliver Queen.”

“Felicity,” she says. “Smoak. And I think I owe you a thank you for being my own personal alarm clock.” She stretches, moving away from him. He almost reaches for her, hand lifted in midair before he realizes what he’s doing and lets it drop back to his lap.

“Anytime,” he responds instead, and he actually means it. “Felicity…”

She turns to smile at him again and she seems to waiting for him to say something else. He swallows and hopes he’s not reading the situation completely wrong. “Would you like to-”

“Yes,” she replies eagerly, before he’s even finished his sentence.

Her eyes widen almost comically and then she’s blushing, cheeks stained pink, and she purses her lips, looking down at her hands. “Sorry. I may have been wishing that you’d say something for weeks. I mean, I hope that you were going to say get some coffee? Or something along those lines? Otherwise I look like a complete idiot right now.” She buries her face in her hands and Oliver finds himself laughing gently. This girl is like a literal ray of sunshine.

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

“Oh. Good.” A small smile graces her lips as their eyes meet and hold. That unnamed something passes between them again and the bus pulls up to her stop.

Oliver stands, offering her his hand. She takes it and her hand feels so tiny in his large one, but he can’t help but think that it’s a perfect fit.

This time they get off together.

Chapter Text

The knock comes as she’s right in the middle of fixing dinner and Felicity groans because her front door has never been so fracking popular.

Okay, fixing dinner might be a slight exaggeration.

She hates to cook - though she loves to eat - so it’s a real conundrum. But she’s at least throwing some food together to make a meal, even if most of it started in the freezer and will come out of the microwave.

At least she made it with her own two hands instead of calling the Thai place. Or the pizza place. Or the Indian place… who all know her by name and face.

Leaving said appliance to finish heating her dinner, Felicity trudges to the front door, a now familiar path. She wonders what it will be this time, but doesn’t bother guessing. She’s a smart, educated, worldly woman, and so far every single thing that’s been delivered has been an item that she didn’t even know a person could buy.

But buy them you can, and she wonders when the shopping spree will end.

“Hey, Bill,” she says in greeting once she spies which delivery person it is today. There are three that seem to rotate through their building and over the past few weeks she’s gotten to know all three.

Which really says something about her neighbour’s insane spending habits.

“Felicity. Sign here please.” He hands her the electronic pad and she tries to spy what weird thing the delivery person thinks she’s bought today.

The first few times she’d tried to explain, stammering out some kind of surprised babble because she most definitely had not bought severed mouse heads, or men’s handerpants, or canned unicorn meat. But Bill, and his delivery buddies Esteban and Susan, had all just nodded like they’d heard it all before. None of them believed that she hadn’t ordered those insane things.

So she’s stopped trying to deny it. It’s frustrating, not to mention annoying, but really, what does it matter if a couple UPS delivery people think she’s a weirdo with an online shopping addiction?

She hands the pad back to Bill and he passes her the latest package. It’s in a box clearly labelled ‘Kangaroo Scrotum’ and she stares at it in disbelief.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she grinds out.

Not only is it completely disgusting, but kangaroos are definitely the creepiest animal on the face of the planet. Felicity is completely creeped out by them and has been ever since her school trip to Roos-and-More in second grade.

The rest of her classmates had been eager and excited to get up close and personal with the kangaroos, sloths, zebras and other animals that the zoo housed. Felicity had been excited too, until she’d come face to face with their largest kangaroo. It had sized her up with its beady little eyes and Felicity swore that she saw pure evil swimming in its gaze.

She hadn’t stuck around to see what nastiness that kangaroo would get up to next. She’d spent the remainder of the trip in the bird sanctuary, with a lovely owl who did not seem to be the devil’s spawn incarnate.

In any case, kangaroos are something that she does not enjoy. This is the last straw.

She tucks the package under her arm and stalks across the hallway, pounding on the door of 4B without a thought.

It swings open and she’s faced with Shirtless Oliver Queen.

Dammit.

Shirtless Oliver Queen is one of her favourite Oliver Queen’s. He’s right up there with Suspenders Oliver Queen and Tan Leather Jacket Oliver Queen.

Okay, fine, he’s definitely the best Oliver Queen and her eyes unconsciously drift over his body, taking in the well-defined muscles, the way his hipbones create a little ‘V’ that trails into the waistband of his jeans.

Realizing that she’s basically ogling her very good-looking neighbour, Felicity quickly snaps her eyes back up to his face. There’s a small smile playing around his mouth, but he’s as serious as ever. She swears that the guy never laughs. Every time she comes over here to deliver his ridiculous shit he just thanks her with a stony look and shuts the door in her face.

She stares at his mouth for a moment, wondering what he’d look like if he actually smiled. Probably drop-dead gorgeous, she figures. He’s handsome as anything when he’s all serious and broody. A smile would only brighten his face, lighten the heavy look in his eyes.

Speaking of his eyes, the dark brows above them draw together and she realizes that she’s still staring at him.

Remembering the package under her arm she holds it out to him. “Your kangaroo scrotum was delivered to my apartment. Accident, right?”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but otherwise he doesn’t outwardly react, just reaches out to take the box from her hand. “Thanks.”

“Thanks?” she repeats sarcastically. “You had the body part of literally the creepiest animal in the world purposely delivered to my doorstep. It was one thing when it was wolf urine, but now it’s actual kangaroo scrotums! Really? This is getting completely out of hand! My apartment is not a personal delivery service for your weird online shopping addiction”

He has the good grace to look moderately embarrassed. “I’m not addicted to online shopping.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Is this some weird sex thing?”

His mouth drops open and once the words catch up with her she slaps a palm to her forehead.

“What?” he croaks.

“I mean, uh, no, there’s really no good way to explain that. But Oliver, you have ordered some of the strangest things that I never knew existed - and I would have been happy knowing that none of it existed in the first place - but I can never un-see those creepy baby wigs. And don’t get me started on the logistical problems of having a thousand live ladybugs delivered to someone else’s apartment! And-”

“Okay, okay, I get the idea.”

Felicity abruptly snaps her mouth shut and fixes him with her best frosty glare. “Good. Don’t do it again.”

“I promise, I will never have a thousand live ladybugs delivered to your apartment ever again,” Oliver repeats solemnly.

“Ugh!” She throws her arms up in the air. “You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever met. Forget it.”

She storms back to her own apartment and slams the door behind her, but she swears she can hear him chuckling at her through the barrier.

XXX

A week later, Felicity thinks that she’s finally through. It’s over. There have been no more weird deliveries at any and all times of the day and night. It’s about time. Oliver must have learned that using other people’s addresses is wrong. Especially when you use said address to send weird stuff that the recipient doesn’t even get to keep.

She’s waiting for her pizza to be delivered, but just as she’s about to jump into the shower there’s a knock at the door. She hastily wraps a towel around herself and hurries to answer it. She’s not expecting anyone, but Barry or Iris are known to drop by on their way home from work sometimes. Or maybe the people at the pizza place have really stepped up their game.

Nope.

Esteban, her least favourite UPS delivery person, stands on the other side. He’s got a pretty grumpy look on his weathered face, as per usual, but seems to perk up when he sees her.

Which may have something to do with the skimpy towel she’s currently wearing.

Gross.

Esteban is nearing retirement and reminds her of a large, wrinkly bulldog. He leers at her and she glares back at him, clutching her towel to her chest. It seems that he’s forgotten why he’s even there until she reminds him.

“Oh, right, yeah, I’ve got a package for you here.” He gestures behind him and Felicity gapes because it’s huge.

“Holy shit. What is that?”

Esteban shoots her a confused look. “Didn’t you order this?” He looks back at the packing slip, then at the information on his handheld device.

Felicity shakes her head faintly. The package is nearing the ceiling and she wonders how he even got it inside the building, let alone into the elevator and up four storeys.

“Sign here,” he says, ignoring her dazed look, and she distractedly signs her name and hands it back. “You need help bringing it into your apartment?”

That snaps her back to reality. “No! Nope, no help heeded. I’ve got a very… generous neighbour. He’ll be more than happy to lend a hand.”

Esteban looks quite disappointed but nods and leaves with a wave and one last glance at her cleavage. She definitely needs that shower after that.

But first.

“Oliver Queen!” she shouts, banging a fist on his door. “Open up right this second!”

The door swings open straightaway and she wonders if he was waiting on the other side.

He’s dressed in athletic shorts and a sweaty grey t-shirt. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the darkened fabric and the way it clings to his chest. Hm. Maybe she has a new favourite Oliver Queen.

Then she shakes her head. Nah. But this one is definitely at the top of this list. Way above the Weirdly Patterned Shirt Oliver Queen that she’d caught sight of the other day.

Forcefully dragging her eyes away from those glorious muscles, she discovers that his eyes are dragging up and down her body. She feels his gaze almost like a brand, trails of fire following the path his darkening eyes take. A shudder races down her spine and a muscle twitches in his clenched jaw before he rakes his eyes back to hers.

“Felicity.” His voice is rough and deeper than she’s ever heard it. The tone causes heat to rush southward in her body.

Opening her mouth, nothing comes out, which must be a first for her. It’s hard to remember a time when she was at a loss for words. But then she catches sight of the ginormous box in the hallway behind her and she remembers why she’s even over here, in a fracking towel, in the first place.

“Oliver, what is this?” Her voice comes out annoyed, which is good. She is annoyed. Very annoyed. Annoyed and not attracted to her dumb pine tree neighbour who think’s her apartment is his own personal P.O. box.

“Pardon?” He shakes his head, a puzzled look crossing his face, before he takes in the box. “Oh. That.”

“Yes. That,” she parrots back. “That giant box of god knows what that you had delivered to my apartment. Again.”

“Well, it would have been embarrassing to have it delivered to my apartment,” he rallies back and Felicity’s mouth drops open in response.

“Embarrassing? What the hell is it, a giant penis statue?”

Oliver bursts out laughing, and Felicity is completely taken aback. He can laugh. And man is it sexy. She had no idea the sight of a man laughing could be such a turn on. But his eyes are all crinkly and the tendons in his neck flex and his arms, good grief she could go on and on about those arms…

“No, it’s not a giant penis statue. But- Well, look, I can explain. For real this time. Do you want to come in? I’ll show you what’s in the box.”

Felicity stares at him for a moment, before nodding decisively. Finally! These stupid deliveries have been a mystery that’s been bugging her for months. She hates mysteries.

“Okay,” she agrees, then remembers that she’s basically naked and her shower is still running. “Actually. I’m just gonna, uh- I’ll just quickly throw some clothes on?”

Oliver looks like he actually does mind, but he just nods his head. “I’ll bring this in so I can show you,” he says, gesturing to the latest delivery.

She nods in agreement then quickly escapes back into the safety of her apartment. After throwing on some leggings and a sweater, and regrettably turning off the shower, she treks back across the hallway, unreasonably excited to finally understand why Oliver has become Google’s most profitable customer.

The giant box is gone.

What’s inside it?

Felicity herself could have fit inside and possibly Oliver as well. She wracks her brain trying to think of the strangest thing he could have bought that would fit into a box that big. If she gets it right, she decides, she’ll treat herself to a glass of the new wine she bought for special occasions.

She knocks as possibilities run through her head, but he answers so quickly that she isn’t able to even come up with one idea.

“Hi,” she says, startled.

“Hi. Come on in.” He steps back to let her pass and she takes in the room as he shuts the door behind her. She’s never actually been inside his apartment. It’s surprisingly neat for a single guy living on his own. It’s also pretty sterile.

“Do you want something to drink?” He moves past her towards the kitchen, which she knows because his apartment is an exact mirror of her own. “I have beer, soda, water…?”

“Oh, uh, whatever you’re having is good,” she replies and he ducks into the kitchen with a nod.

She takes the time to wander around the living room. It’s decorated in greys and browns, a large black leather couch dominating the room opposite a large flatscreen TV. There aren’t many personal touches or photographs around. In fact, as she subtly peruses the space, there aren’t any photographs at all.

The thought sends a thrill of panic through her.

Oliver is basically a stranger, despite the fact that they’ve been neighbours for over a year. What if he’s some serial killer and she’s finally taken the bait? He’s successfully lured her into his apartment. Is he going to kill her now?

“Felicity?”

She yelps and jumps a mile because his voice comes from right behind her.

“Oh my God, Oliver! You need a bell, holy crap!”

He sheepishly smiles, handing her one of the two bottles in his hands. “Sorry. My sister’s always telling me the same thing.”

Sister. Hm. For some reason she thinks that Oliver would be a good big brother. And probably not a serial killer.

“I’m not a serial killer, Felicity,” he says and she mentally curses herself.

“Oh course not! Why would you be? Why would I even say that, that’s completely ridiculous.” Raising the bottle to her lips she chugs nearly half the bottle in one go.

Oliver merely raises his eyebrows, not saying a word.

“So. Do I get to know what’s with all the weird deliveries now? And what was in that crazy big box today?”

If she’s not mistaken, a faint blush rises to Oliver’s cheeks. A blush. It is adorable.

Oliver gestures to the couch and she settles at one end while he sits at the other. “It’s really not that interesting,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Oh come on, Oliver. Those things had to take some major brain power to find, not to mention that they’ve been constantly showing up on my doorstep for weeks! And I’ve gotten to know Bill and Susan and Esteban the Creeper pretty well. I’m actually going to miss Bill- he’s such a sweetheart,” she adds with a sigh.

Oliver raises his eyebrows, then shakes his head softly. “I really enjoy listening to you talk.”

“What?” Felicity laughs. “Babble, you mean. And you enjoy it? It’s usually completely mortifying.”

“I like it. It’s real. Unfiltered. You’re completely honest and it’s just- It’s refreshing.”

“If I’m refreshing, then I think you need to reevaluate who you’re spending your time with.”

“Lots of fake people,” Oliver replies moodily. “Hence the ridiculous purchases.”

Felicity furrows her brow, even as a secret thrill runs through her veins. Oliver likes her babbles. Oliver, her super-attractive neighbour, thinks that she’s refreshingly honest. Felicity has been called lots of things, but that has never been one of them.

“All right then, Oliver. Enlighten me. What are you doing with all this stuff?” She gestures wildly, like all his weird purchases are lying around his living room, but as she does she realizes that none of it is here at all. Not even that crazy big box from today.

“It’s a contest. With my best friend, Tommy.” He raises his bottle to lis lips and takes a sip, then sets it on the coffee table and turns to face Felicity. “I moved here because of my sister. Thea,” he explains, completely changing the topic. “She’s nearly ten years younger than me and she’s the most important person in my life.”

“Okay,” Felicity says slowly.

“She’s been having a rough time this year, after my dad passed away. She got into drugs, got into some trouble at school and with the police, then spent some time in rehab. She’s living with my mom and she’s doing a lot better, but she never smiles anymore, never laughs. So Tommy and I, we decided to see which one of us could take her something that would make her laugh, really laugh, first. I went the “ridiculous things you can find on the internet” route.”

If Felicity had had any expectations about Oliver, they were completely smashed to smithereens by that explanation. She’d never heard Oliver talk so much before and he looked so sad, talking about his sister, that she wanted to wrap him up in her arms.

She decides against that though, seeing as they’re just getting to know each other. “And. Has anyone won yet?”

Oliver shakes his head. “No. But I think this latest one might do it. Thea loves pizza.”

Felicity furrows her brow in confusion and Oliver gets up. “Be right back. I’ll get it.”

He comes back with two things in tow. One is a-

“It’s a giant pizza raft. For in the pool. It came inflated and everything. What a steal.” Oliver looks positively gleeful about this and Felicity can’t hold back her grin. The raft is shaped like a triangle and topped with the traditional pepperoni and cheese.

“What’s the other thing?” It’s much smaller and kind of blanket-like?

“This is for you,” he says holding it out to her with one hand.

What?

“For me?” she asks, thinking that she heard him wrong.

“As a thank you. For letting me use your address and for letting the delivery people think you were ordering so much strange shit online.”

Reaching out, she takes it and holds it up in front of her. Then bursts out laughing because he must pay some attention to what’s going on at her apartment.

“Oliver. Is this- is this a pizza onesie?”

His laugh is answer enough.

Chapter Text

Oliver’s pouring what he swears is the thousandth draught of the night when she sits down.

She’s never been here, as far as he can tell. He would remember a girl like that. Blonde curls, big blue eyes behind thick framed glasses, bright red lips. Something about her is innately attractive but he can’t put his finger on what it is. Hundreds of hot girls pass through his bar and none of them have the pull that she has.

It’s Saturday, so it’s a busy night at Verdant. They get lots of locals and some tourists, especially at this time of year. He can’t help but wonder if she’s just passing through or if she lives in Starling. Is she here all alone?

“What can I get you?” he asks, after sliding the beers he'd just poured to Roy, his sister Thea’s boyfriend and one of his busiest servers.

She purses her lips, eyes running over the drink menu that hardly anyone uses, because Verdant is not really the type of bar where you order fancy drinks. She sets it down after only a moment and he notices that her fingernails are painted a bright purple. She’s all bright colours, like a rainbow in a thunderstorm.

“Glass of merlot?” Her voice is soft and gentle. She looks up in question and meets his eyes.

Fuck.

Her eyes shine as they smile into his. He’s done for.

He nods. He thinks, anyways. Quirks his lips into a smile and gives the bar top a little tap with his hands. “Sure thing.”

Then he winks. Winks.

Turning away, he gives himself a mental kick in the ass. What the fuck is wrong with him? He doesn’t come on to customers. That’s the one rule he made straightaway, right when he and Tommy had opened this place. They weren’t going to be successful with that kind of reputation.

Cursing himself, Oliver quickly pours her drink and places it in front of her.

Be cool, he instructs himself. Do not wink at her again, you idiot.

“Thanks!” she says brightly, immediately lifting it to her mouth and taking a sip.

“First time here?” he finds himself asking, and wonders when he became one for small talk. Apparently right about now.

She nods. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’d remember a girl like you.”

Holy mother of god, what is wrong with him? Why has he suddenly lost all control of his mouth? He sounds like the morons he overhears trying to pick up girls while he’s working the bar. He makes fun of those guys. He is not one of those guys.

Jesus.

She doesn’t seem to mind though. Her lips curve into a tiny smile as her eyes drop to her glass.

A blush rises to her cheeks and she takes a larger sip. “I actually just moved to Starling for work. I start a new job on Monday. My neighbour said that this is the place to go on Saturdays, so I thought I’d give it a go.” She gives a small shrug. “Better than sitting at home alone with a bottle of wine and passing out to old episodes of Doctor Who on my PVR.” Then she freezes. “Not that that’s something I do often. Or at all. Because that’s completely weird. Right?”

He huffs out a soft laugh, leaning forward, towards her. Something about her just makes him want to be closer.

“Not any weirder than that.”

He gestures to the dance floor where one of the oldest patrons, a regular named Gus who’s eighty if he’s a day, is steadfastly shaking his booty and trying to line dance to the classic rock blasting through the speakers.

She giggles, then turns back to him. “I’m Felicity, by the way.”

“Oliver.”

She reaches out a hand to shake and he grasps her tiny hand in his. Her skin is soft and it’s over way too fast.

“Yo, Ollie! Get me a beer, man!” The voice grates on Oliver’s nerves, but he’s one of his best paying customers, so Oliver pastes on a plastic grin.

“Sorry,” he says to Felicity. “Duty calls.”

She shakes her head with a smile, raising her glass to her lips again and he shoots her a real smile before covering it up with the fake one again and turning to Carter Bowen.

The next hour flies by in a flurry of drinks and shots, of customers young and old. They’ve been open three years now and he’s still surprised sometimes at the success of Verdant. He runs from one end of the bar to the other, filling orders and serving customer after customer. He keeps an eye on Felicity as he works and she looks perfectly happy sipping her wine and people watching.

As he’s passing her once again, he notices her glass is empty and he returns with a fresh one. Because he’s a good bartender. A good businessman. And he wants to welcome her to town.

Or so he tells himself.

“On the house,” he says with a smile, placing it in front of her.

“Oh!” She looks surprised, blue eyes wide behind her glasses. “Thanks, Oliver. That’s really nice.”

“No problem,” he says, then he’s drawn away again as Roy demands his attention at the far end of the bar.

Oliver is carrying an armload of new bottles from the back liquor storage when he notices a tall, dark haired guy has slid onto the stool beside Felicity. Oliver digs into the recesses of his brain for his name as he organizes the new bottles into their proper places. He’s been in here before, but he always looks shady as shit.

It starts with a C or a K… Cooper. Cooper something, he’s pretty sure.

Felicity looks happy enough, if slightly uncomfortable by how close he’s leaning to her. Cooper is clearly a close-talker. But as long as she’s okay with that, he’s not going to interrupt.

No matter how much he may want to. It’s not like he has any place, any claim on her, no matter how kissable those red lips look.

He can’t hear what they’re talking about over the din of the bar and the noise of the dishwasher. Felicity must notice his eyes on her because she turns slightly and smiles at Oliver as he pulls out the clean glasses and puts them away. He curls his mouth in return, resisting the urge to send another wink her way.

Seriously, what is with this whole winking business, he asks himself.

Another customer signals to him and Roy’s back with more drink orders, so Oliver leaves her side and gets back to work.

After handing off a tray full of shots for Roy to take to a table of college students in the back, he sees Felicity get up and head towards the bathroom out of the corner of his eye.

He can’t help it as his eyes follow her across the busy room. He hadn’t seen her come in so this is the first time he’s seen her whole body. And fuck him if she isn’t even more attractive now. She’s wearing a bright purple dress with a soft looking kind of skirt, but it’s got all sorts of crazy cutouts, revealing tempting flashes of pale skin. Her legs seem to go on for days, thanks to the spiky heels on her feet and he immediately pictures how they’d look wrapped around his waist.

“Ollie! Earth to Ollie!”

Thea’s voice jerks him out of his daydream and he gives his head a shake. He’s not a fucking teenager. He tells himself to get things under control, because the simmering attraction that’s burning in his blood is not appropriate. 



Ha. Not appropriate. If only Laurel could see him now.

“What’s up, Thea?” he asks, forcing thoughts of his long gone ex-girlfriend from his mind. Man, how things have changed since then.

Thea rests her elbows on the bar, completely blocking his view of Felicity. Her eyebrows wiggle knowingly, glancing quickly over her shoulder, then she opens her eyes wide. “Something you want to share?”

“No,” he grits out. “I’m busy. Go away.”

“Rude! I’m just here to check in, see how business is going, dear brother of mine.”

“More like you want some free drinks for you and your friends.”

She gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her heart. “What? How could you think such a thing?”

“Because you only come and bother me when you want something?” He rolls his eyes, turning away.

“Aw, Ollie, come on. I don’t come just when I want something.” She’s got that ‘I’m totally innocent and you love me and can’t deny me anything’ face on. He hates that face because she's usually right. “Sometimes I come to see Roy.”

And Oliver does not want to be reminded that his baby sister is dating his bartender, does not want to hear anything about their activities or… nope. No thanks. “Fine,” he mutters. “What do you want? Vodka sodas?”

She nods, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “Thanks, Ollie! I love you,” she says, drawing out the words and he wonders how much she’s had to drink already. Then he reminds himself that she’s allowed to drink legally, that she’s not his responsibility now that she’s moved into her own apartment with her friend Sara. It’s hard to break the habit, but he’s trying, goddammit.

It’s still weird though, because he’s taken care of her for years. But the change has been good for her. She’s become more responsible, as far as he can tell, and he’s kind of proud of her. She’s not a baby anymore.

“Hey babe.” Roy slides in next to Thea, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a sloppy kiss to her mouth.

Oliver turns away with a disgusted grunt. There are some things that he never wants to see his baby sister doing. All of them involve Roy.

Shaking his head to clear out that image, he goes to get Thea’s drinks ready, but stops in his tracks when he sees that Cooper guy slip something out of his pocket and into the glass sitting beside him. He swears it’s Felicity’s drink.

What the fuck?

Drugs of any kind are not welcome at Verdant. He’s been pretty clear on the subject; he’s kicked out numerous kids who think they can bring that shit into his bar. Having drugs at Verdant is a clear path to getting shut down and he cannot let Verdant close. That’s not an option and sitting by and letting this happen isn’t either.

Some part of him deep down that he refuses to acknowledge absolutely roars. He’s trained himself to keep a tight lid on his anger but the monster growling inside of him is completely outraged that this guy is trying to drug Felicity.

Oliver strides right over, intending on saying something, on doing something, anything, because that smug jerk is no longer welcome in this establishment.

But Felicity slips onto her stool before he can get there and immediately takes a giant gulp of wine, squeezing her eyes shut as the delicate muscles in her throat work. She opens her mouth and says something to Cooper that Oliver can’t hear.

Cooper leans in closer, gets right into her ear and she immediately recoils, leaning away, and nearly falls off the stool.

Oliver grinds his teeth, continuing to make his way to them. Just to check in, he tells himself. He won’t make a scene, but he needs to make sure she’s all right. Maybe he saw wrong. He hopes he was mistaken. “Everything okay over here?”

Cooper shoots him a dirty look, then leans in close to Felicity again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders like he’s marking his territory. “We’re fine.”

She wriggles halfheartedly, attempting to shrug off his grip. Oliver looks pointedly at Felicity. “Are you all right?”

She nods, but her eyes don’t quite meet his, starting to look kind of confused and bleary.

He turns back to Cooper. “Did you put something in her drink?” His voice is deep and angry, escaping his throat like shards of glass.

Cooper has the good decency to look shocked. Or attempt it anyways because he’s a piss poor liar as far as Oliver’s concerned. “What? No. I didn’t put anything in her drink.”

“What?” Felicity turns to look at Cooper, blinking slowly. She takes a stumbling step away from him and his arm drops away.

“Try again,” Oliver grounds out, voice low.

“I didn’t put anything in her drink!” Cooper shouts again, holding his hands up in front of him, as though that will make Oliver believe him.

Felicity suddenly lurches sideways and stumbles unsteadily on her feet. “I don’ feel righ’,” she slurs and Cooper, that fucker, wraps his arms around her, holding her up.

“I’ve got you,” Cooper says, all slimy and slick, and Oliver sees red, blood rushing in his ears.

“Let go of her.” Oliver strides angrily to the other side of the bar and stops beside them. His hands ball into fists, nails biting into the skin of his palms, aching to slam into Cooper’s smug face. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

“No.”

Cooper shoots a defiant look in Oliver’s direction as Felicity rests her head on his chest. She looks like she’s sleeping. She’s not. He knows she’s not and he gives Cooper one last try.

“Take your hands off her right now. Last chance.”

Felicity’s eyes blink open and she searches until she finds his. “Ol’ver?” she slurs and she takes a step towards him. Cooper tries to hold onto her but she wriggles herself away and takes a stumbling step towards him.

“I’m here,” he says, catching her as she practically falls into his arms. She’s tiny and so light and she’s practically passed out on his chest. He slides his arms under her shoulders, wrapping them around her, and hauls her against him.

What the fuck did he give her?

“What the fuck did you give her?” he shouts and Cooper takes a step back.

“Nothing man. Fuck. Just something to help her loosen up. She was uptight as shit,” he says, like that’s a completely normal thing to do.

“Get away from her!” Oliver roars. Cooper takes a stumbling step back, hands held up in front of him. Oliver signals to one of the other servers. “Call the police. Tell them we have this dick, who thought it would be a good idea to drug one of my customers." The guy nods and immediately grabs the phone behind the bar.

Roy appears behind them, Thea hovering behind him, and Cooper turns to go. Before he can get anywhere, Roy grabs Cooper roughly by the arm, hauling him in the direction of the exit. "Keep him outside Roy, until the cops get here and take him off your hands." Roy nods in response and Oliver leaves him to manage that situation, turning his focus to the blonde in his arms.

“Felicity?”

She moans softly at her name, head buried against his chest, but doesn’t otherwise react. Oliver has some knowledge of the various date-rape drugs out there, but not much. He cringes as he even thinks the word. Thank god he had turned and seen Cooper when he had. He doesn’t even want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t.

But what does he do now? He can’t leave the bar and he can’t leave Felicity. He doesn’t know where she lives or even what her last name is, so he can’t send her home in a cab and hope for the best.

Something inside of him is hesitant to even let her out of his sight.

Oliver sweeps her up in his arms, figuring that he’ll take her to his office. It’s quiet and private and he’s got a couch that she can sleep it off on. Then he can keep an eye both on her and the bar and help her to get home when she wakes up. She needs to wake up somewhere safe and he hopes that she’ll feel safe with him. He remembers how she’d reached for him, asked for him in confusion, and something inside of him thinks that yes, she’ll be okay waking up with him watching over her.

“Ollie? What’s going on?” Thea asks frantically, trailing after him as he strides across the dance floor, anger and frustration in every step.

“Nothing. Can you ask Roy to cover the bar?”

She nods, eyes locked on the sleeping girl in his arms. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“I think so. I’m going to take her to the couch in my office, let her sleep. That’s where I’ll be if anyone’s looking for me.”

“Okay,” she says softly, unable to look away from Felicity’s slumbering face. He abruptly turns away, shaken. For all the problems they’ve had to deal with at Verdant, this is something completely new.

He wishes Tommy were here.

Tommy is good with bad situations, better than Oliver at coming up with reasonable solutions. But Tommy is is fucking Bora Bora or some equally ridiculous tropical locale with his new wife and is completely unavailable to help Oliver with the blonde problem currently sleeping in his arms.

Crouching down, he sets her on the couch, making sure her head rests on the pillow, making sure her dress is covering her, that she’s lying comfortably. Her hair spills to the side, bright against the dark leather and he sweeps a hand over her forehead, pushing errant hairs back and checking for a fever.

Is that something he should check for? She doesn’t have the flu, you idiot, he thinks. She just seems to be asleep, chest rising evenly and deeply. He stares at her for a moment, takes a deep breath through his nose and lets it out through his mouth.

Adrenaline still races through his system and he kind of wants to throw his fist through the wall, but instead he drags his desk chair over so it’s pushed up right beside the couch. Then he sits, braces his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on his laced fingers.

She might have come here alone, but he is going to make damn sure that he’s here when she wakes up.

Chapter Text

“Oh my god, Oliver! You are completely terrible at this. I’m soaking wet!” Felicity shouts in frustration, then snaps her mouth shut because this is really not how she’d imagined things going an hour ago.

An hour ago, she’d packed up her things after a marathon study session for her psychology final tomorrow. Then, upon opening the heavy wooden doors of MIT’s main library, she’d made the unfortunate discovery that it was pouring rain.

Even more unfortunate was that she’d left her apartment that morning without her umbrella.

Felicity is usually prepared for things like this, really, but after spending way too many hours making study notes for an exam that counts for half of her final grade and not getting enough sleep because her roommates are all finished their exams already and had decided to stay up nearly all night drinking and playing Guitar Hero, she’d left home that morning flustered and annoyed.

And it had been sunny when she left, she thought sourly.

Clearly the universe was out to get her today.

“Do you want to borrow my umbrella?”

The deep voice came from behind her and she whirled around to find Oliver Queen standing there, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other holding a beautiful, big, black umbrella.

She may have sighed. Maybe.

Because of the umbrella, obviously.

Not because Oliver Queen was the most good-looking person she’d ever set eyes on and she had spent most of her semester in Psychology 101 staring dreamily at the back of his head. Nope. Not that at all.

“Oh. Um… Well, uh…”

Holy crap. Frack. Why was she suddenly unable to form any coherent words? What was wrong with her? She has an IQ of 141 and she can’t string together a sentence in front of the hottest guy on campus? How embarrassing for women everywhere.

He smiled, eyes flashing, and good god it was unfair that he looked like that. “Here.” He held out the umbrella. She found herself reaching out to take it, eyes probably bugging out of her head. His hand was tanned, with graceful fingers and strong tendons flexing. Their fingers brushed and she immediately snatched hers back like she'd been burned.

“Thanks,” she croaked. Yup. Because that was attractive. Her voice literally creaked out of her throat and she winced at the sound of it because it gave off the impression that she smoked a pack a day, which she most definitely did not.

Oliver, thank goodness, didn’t seem to notice, just hiked his bag up on his shoulder and tossed a careless smile in her direction, moving past her to walk out into the rain.

Wait. He was just going to walk home in that typhoon with no umbrella? He didn’t even have a coat on for crying out loud.

“Wait!” Felicity had called before he stepped outside and he’d stopped in his tracks, turning to look at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“You can’t go out there like that,” she said, the hand that wasn’t holding his umbrella gesturing wildly to him. “I mean, not like that, like there’s anything wrong with you. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the way you look. You could literally go anywhere looking like that. I mean, it’s raining, really hard. That’s where I was going with this whole spiel and I would feel terrible if you walked out there without your umbrella just because I left too quickly this morning and didn’t bring mine, so why don’t we just share?”

Oliver’s blue eyes were wide as he stared at her. He looked startled, almost surprised that she cared about his well-being, but then his lips had curved into a smile and he’d nodded in agreement. “Sure. We can share.”

“Great. Good. Okay then,” she’d said, handing the umbrella back to him. Then she hesitated, because how would this work exactly? She clearly hadn’t thought this through very thoroughly.

“Here, stand closer,” Oliver said, lifting an arm in invitation, and she moved in close beside him.

It was closer than she’d ever stood, considering he sat miles ahead of her in class and they’d never actually spoken before. He smelled delicious. She didn’t know what it was exactly, but it was completely Oliver and completely attractive. She tipped her face up to his. “I’m Felicity, by the way.”

“I know,” he responded quickly, then continued, “I mean, you’re in my psychology class. You answer a lot of questions.” Then he shook his head minutely, brow furrowed, and focused on unsnapping and opening the umbrella above their heads.

Felicity did a tiny happy dance inside because he knew who she was? She was suddenly thankful for all the times she’d raised her hand in class, even though she probably drove a lot of the other students crazy, because Oliver Queen knew who she was.

“Ready?” he asked, turning to look at her. His eyes were very blue this close up and she could see the darker ring around the outside. He raised his eyebrows in question and she’d nodded in return.

“Let’s do this.”

Felicity had expected it would be idyllic. How hard could it be, sharing an umbrella while walking in the rain? It was romantic comedy gold. Even if it didn’t end with the cliche passionate confession, it was a cute story that she could tell to her roommates after. The time Oliver Queen was such a gentleman and shared his umbrella with her so that she didn’t get drenched.

Instead, she gets to tell the story of how they argued the whole way to her apartment about the benefits of smart wearables and where to get the best on-campus coffee. Fortunately they both agree that Big Belly Burger has the best fries, so at least there’s that.

She also gets to tell them about how he was terrible at holding the umbrella steady. Like the actual worst. He either let the wind blow torrents of rain into her face or tipped the umbrella too far which allowed a steady drip of water to slide down her back.

She holds it in, holds back for as long as she can, giving him the benefit of the doubt, because besides the downpour she’s really enjoying this walk and the conversation and him. But after a particularly cold and nasty gush of water blows into her face, she loses it.

He looks adorably confused, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and staring at her.

It would be the moment where she kisses the frown off his face, but they are not in a movie and he has let the umbrella completely fall to the side so that they’re both now being pelted with rain.

“What?” he says.

“Oliver!” she shrieks.


“Sorry, sorry!”

“I’m drenched!”

“I’m so sorry, Felicity. Umbrellas and I have this thing,” he responds, lifting it back above her head. It’s better, but not much.

“This thing where you don’t know how to properly use one?” The sarcasm just explodes out of her.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Is this better?” He readjusts, the umbrella so it’s mostly over her ans she nods. “All right, let’s go. Are we almost there?”

“Yep,” she says, moving right in close to him, close enough she can feel the body heat pouring off him. “Over there. Red brick building.”

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, then wraps his free arm around her shoulder.

She barely has a second to appreciate the heavy weight of his arm, the muscles she can feel pressing again her side, before they take off together, the umbrella bouncing above them. They reach the relative dryness of the overhang above the front door fairly quickly, and Oliver drops the umbrella, shaking off the rain and making Felicity squeal as excess drops fly in her direction.

“Hey! Watch where you’re shaking that thing!”

“You’re already soaked. I don’t think it’s going to do any more damage,” he replies dryly.

Barely restraining herself from sticking out her tongue at him, Felicity digs her keys out of her bag and unlocks the door. “Shut up.”

Then she hesitates. Now what? Should she invite him in? To dry off? Is that weird? Isn’t that what they do in the movies? But maybe he just wants to get home and change his clothes. She doesn’t have any clothes for him to put on here. He’d just have to sit around in his wet clothes. Or in nothing. Her mind takes an abrupt detour to Oliver hanging around in her apartment naked. Sitting on her couch. Lying on her bed…

“Felicity!”

“Wha- What?” She frowns in his direction because he had interrupted what was shaping up to be a very lovely daydream.

He raises his eyebrows at her exasperatedly. “Jeez, what were you thinking about? I called your name like twenty times.”

“You did not,” she retorts. “And it’s none of your business.”

“Okay. Man, you don’t have to take my head off. You know, I did just go out of my way to walk you home in the middle of a rainstorm.”

He shoots her what she supposes is supposed to be a devastatingly handsome grin, and it is, but she’s also soaking wet and starting to shiver and he really was terrible at holding that damn umbrella.

“Look, do you want to come in until the rain stops?” she asks, deciding that she’d rather be warm and embarrassed than standing out here in the cold, unsure about what comes next. She’d thought this would be a totally cute moment but sharing an umbrella really isn’t as easy as it looks, especially with Oliver and his ‘thing’ with them. She doesn’t even know what that means. Maybe he’ll explain inside. “I have towels that we can use to dry off - not together! Separately! Alone. In different rooms we can get dry, and I also have study notes that we could go over? If you want. I’m sure you have better things to do than study with me in wet jeans.”

He folds up his umbrella in response and gives it one more final shake. “Lead the way. I could actually use the help studying for tomorrow. I missed a bunch of classes in the middle of the semester.”

“I noticed.” Then she freezes because it’s totally weird that she paid that much attention to his attendance habits. She closes her eyes in exasperation, then opens them, avoiding his face. “I said not noticed, right?”

He doesn’t respond, and when she opens her eyes he’s just smiling warmly at her, like she hasn’t said anything weird at all.

They step into the warmth of the lobby and start up the stairs together, climbing in companionable silence before a sudden thought occurs to her. She stops abruptly halfway up the stairs and he keeps climbing before he realizes she’s not beside him anymore.

“Felicity?” he asks, turning and looking down at where she’s frozen three steps below him.

“Oliver Queen. Did you plan this elaborate scheme as a way to get your hands on my study notes?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him over the top of her glasses. She purses her lips, hands finding their way to her hips.

He sends a smirk her way but doesn’t reply and she shivers, the goosebumps on her arms growing goosebumps. That are from the cold! Definitely from the cold, not from Oliver Queen’s sexy smirk. Not that at all.

Okay, it’s totally that.

Frack, is she in trouble.

Chapter Text

“Who wouldn’t be angry? You ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”

Felicity stares at him, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, empty box of cereal in one hand, phone in the other. She freezes, as though he’s a T-Rex and only sees by movement, but he can see her, clear as day, standing in the middle of his kitchen.

It’s been three years since he last laid eyes on her. Three years, nearly to the day. He feels like he’s been sucker punched, like all the air has been sucked out of the room and left his lungs completely empty. His heart thuds in his chest so loudly that he’s sure she can hear it.

He curses his stupid heart because he doesn’t want her to know how much he missed her. How he spiralled after she disappeared, how he refused to believe that she was dead. The hours, days, weeks that he’d spent holed up in the Arrow Cave, desperately searching for any clues. They’d known that something fishy had happened, because Felicity was nothing if not dependable, but without her, without their resident tech guru they’d never been able to trace her.

His head is swimming. How is he still standing? His legs feel like numb, his whole body feels numb. The world has stopped spinning below his feet, sending everything off kilter.

He’d thought that he had adjusted, had moved on from the fog of grief that had swamped him in the time after she was gone. There had been more problems to solve, criminals to apprehend, family and friends who needed him. He’d become someone different after she was gone. He likes to think that she would have been proud of him, of what he’d made himself into, but he doesn’t really know because she’d never come back.

Until now.

Anger simmers under the surface of his skin, bubbling and brewing, and he needs to move. He needs to do something other than stand here and stare at the face that has haunted him for three years, and even before that if he’s being honest. Felicity has always stirred up emotions that at first he hadn’t wanted to face. She’d been the light that had beat away his demons, she’d never been afraid to tell him when he was being an ass, and she was one of the most loyal people he’d ever met.

Which is part of the reason that he’s angry, Oliver thinks. Felicity left, convinced them that she was kidnapped or dead, and now that she’s standing here, definitely alive and breathing, he’s furious at her for letting them, letting him, think the worst.

He balls his hands into fists, channeling his anger into the feel of his nails cutting into the skin of his palms. As much as he is angry at her, he has never been so grateful to see somebody alive in his entire life. There seems to have been a myriad of people who have come back from the dead, but Felicity Smoak, standing in his kitchen and eating his cereal in the middle of the night, balloons his chest in a way he’s never felt before.

Anger and elation war for dominance inside of him, but his eyes don’t leave hers. She hasn’t moved, besides a cursory glance of his body. Why hasn’t she said anything?

He wants to shake her. Kiss her. Wrap her up in his arms so tightly that the world can’t touch her and never let her go.

Her mouth slowly closes and she gently places the cereal box back onto the counter, moving slowly, as though he’s a wild animal who might attack at any second. Oliver watches her throat work as she swallows. She shoves the phone in her hand into her pocket as she watches him cautiously and she bites her lip, eyes get all glassy. Just looking at those eyes, bright blue and framed behind the same glasses he remembers, sends a shock through him.

She looks the same, so much like his Felicity. Although she was never really his, was she?

There had been something brewing between them, that summer after Slade. Something that had grown through years of gentle touches and easy moments that he’d refused to acknowledge for a long time. He hadn’t been ready to confront it that summer ether, but then suddenly she’d been gone and he’d been faced with a lifetime without her. It had been something he hadn’t even considered before and it had quickly become a nightmare.

He’s regretted it for the past three years, the cowardice, the fear that had lived inside of his chest and had held him back from telling her just how much she meant to him.

Maybe it would have changed things, if she’d known how he felt. Maybe not.

Staring at her, her face so familiar, it’s doing funny things to his heart.

Physically she hasn’t changed very much. Her sunny hair is shorter than he remembers. It falls in messy waves around her face, rather than pulled back into her trademark slick ponytail. She looks thinner, leaner, dressed in skinny black pants and a close fitting black V neck shirt. He can see the play of muscle in her arms, muscle that he knows wasn’t there before.

What’s with all the black? The Felicity he knew was forever dressing in bright rainbows of colour. It’s strange seeing her dressed like she’s about to do some breaking and entering.

Where has she been? Did she not eat where she was? Was she hurt? How did she even know that he now lives here with Thea? The questions pile up in his mind and he shifts his weight to his toes, practically vibrating with the need to let it all out.

But the way she’s standing, all closed in, body curved forwards… It reminds him of himself, when he’d first come back from the island. She stands like the weight of the world is on her shoulders, like she’s being dragged down by all the things she cannot say.

He has so many questions.

“Oliver,” she breathes and the sound of her voice is something he’s only hoped to hear again in his wildest dreams. She takes a stuttering step towards him and then stops, hand reaching out in his direction before falling limply to her side.

He doesn’t know what to say. What to do. The chatter in his head fades away at the sound of her voice. What does one do when your ex-something shows up after completely disappearing off the face of the earth three years ago?

“Felicity,” he says, because her name has always meant more than just that, and she closes her eyes, a deep sigh escaping.

“I thought I’d never hear you say my name again,” she confesses, eyes blinking open and searching out his.

“Where have you been?” he asks. “We, I- we thought you were dead, Felicity. And now you turn up here, very much not dead. It’s been three years.” His voice is taut and she flinches at the tone, looking away and down at the ground. He softens his tone, saying “You need to explain.”

He’s holding in his anger, grabbing onto the loose strings that are quickly unravelling with all that he has, but it’s there, simmering under the surface, waiting to explode. He needs to understand. He needs her to explain right now, because thoughts are flying through his head and each one is worse than the last and he doesn’t want to blow up at her, really, but she’s just standing there and not explaining anything.

She nods jerkily. Felicity could once read him better than anyone, wasn’t afraid to call bullshit on him, but now she just stands there, letting him command the conversation.

“I, uh… Can we- Can we sit down?” Her voice is quiet, shy, like she’s afraid he’ll refuse.

He nods, gesturing to the couches and she hesitantly perches on the edge, hands clenched nervously in her lap. He finds his eyes drawn to them, to fingernails that are rough and unpainted. She’s quiet, just sits there silently, and it’s unnerving because Felicity is words and babbles and more information than necessary.

He sits beside her, close but not too close. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but now that she’s here, sitting on his couch in the dead of night, he’s reluctant to let her get too far away again.

“Felicity,” he starts, then pauses because he’s doesn’t know where that thought should go, what to say. The moment stretches on and it’s uncomfortably silent but something about the two of them sitting there, simply being in each other’s presence, is a balm on his soul that he didn’t even realize he needed.

He takes a breath, lets air that smells of her fill his lungs. “I just- I need some answers here. Because I’ve gone through all the explanations, all the possibilities in my head and while I knew you weren’t dead, most of them involve you willingly letting us believe that you were dead and I don’t- I don’t know what to do with that.”

She presses her lips together and closes her eyes like she’s bracing herself for the fall before turning to face him. Her eyes burn bright as they meet his.

“Oliver, I never wanted to lie to you. Never. God, do you know how hard it was, leaving and knowing that you’d think you’d lost another person in your life? I knew what that would do to you. I knew and I couldn’t stop it once I’d started, but there was no other way. There wasn’t another way this time and I know that I’m the one who always tells you there’s another way but once she found out I just- I couldn’t-”

She breaks off, breathing heavily, eyes wide and wet.

Oliver clenches his hands into fists so hard it feels like he’s drawing blood. Maybe he is. He deserves it, he thinks, because what he heard is that Felicity got into trouble, was targeted because of what they, what he, dragged her into. That is unacceptable. He promised when he brought her into this that he would protect her, that he would keep her safe, and he failed.

It’s his fault, whatever horrible things happened to her. Whatever moulded her into this timid, quiet, dark creature, that’s on him.

“Hey. Oliver. Stop.” The words are soft but firm. They draw him out of his thoughts, draw his eyes to hers. She fixes him with a look that’s so familiar, so Felicity, it sends a rush through his veins. “This is not your fault.”

He swallows. “Felicity, how can you say that? I started this crusade and I dragged you into it and you-” He stops. Takes a breath. Starts again. “If I hadn’t come to you, asked for your help, this would never have happened. This is my fault. My responsibility.”

He’s kind of expecting her to back down, to shrink at the emotion, the barely restrained anger in his voice, but she draws herself up straighter, more focused and alive than he’s seen her since she returned.

“I make my own choices, Oliver,” she says, and it’s such a familiar theme that it knocks the breath out of him. He honestly never thought he’d hear her insist on making her own decisions ever again. It had frustrated him in the past, the way she steadfastly stood up to him and refused to back down, but seeing that fire in her now makes his heart sing.

“I chose to join you, to work with you, to help you, because I believed - I believe - that it was the right thing to do. We did good work, we made this city better, and I am not sorry for any of that,” she says fiercely. “I make my own decisions and that is one decision that I will never regret, because it brought me to you.”

She pauses then, but he can tell that there’s something else, hovering just below the surface, so as much as he wants to respond, to argue, to say anything, he forces himself to stay quiet and wait for her to finish.

She takes a shaky breath. “But I- I made some poor decisions before I met you. I thought they were in the past, that I’d moved on, and so I never told you about it.”

He’s confused, but hearing her voice so passionate makes him feel more alive than he’s felt in three years. “So tell me now,” he says and she looks away like she’s steeling herself before meeting his gaze steadfastly. Her eyes are tired but her voice is clear and strong.

“In college, I went through a phase. It was… Well it wasn’t the smartest thing that I’ve ever done, but I met a boy. Cooper. I loved him, and I thought he loved me. He was smart, we liked the same things, we spent all of our time together. He taught me about lots of things, helped me see outside of the tiny box that I’d put myself in, and I taught him things too. But he, we, also got into some dangerous stuff. Hacking into government websites, school records. Hacktivisim, we called it. I thought we were doing good, that we were helping people. But then I built some code, something that I meant to use for the better, and Cooper stole it. He used it to steal some money. A lot of money, actually, from some very important people, and he got caught.”

She pauses and looks away. “You’re going to think I’m a terrible person, Oliver.”

“I could never think you’re a terrible person.”

Sighing, she glances over at him, raising her eyebrows. “You can’t say that. What if you found out I’ve been killing puppies for the past three years?”

It’s such a Felicity thing to say that he barely holds in a laugh.

“Have you been killing puppies for the past three years?” he asks dryly.

“Of course not, Oliver, I love puppies. That is not the point. The point is that Cooper was arrested and he went to prison, but it was my fault because I wrote the code that he used and in the end, he ended up dead.”

There’s a beat of silence and Oliver swears he hears the reverberations of the word echoing around the room. He’s still not sure how all of this connects to Felicity disappearing for three years. His thumb and forefinger rub anxiously together where his hand rests on the couch beside his leg as he waits for her to continue.

She doesn’t, just lets her eyes fall back to her hands in her lap, lost in thought.

“Felicity,” he says after a few moments and she jumps but doesn’t lift her gaze. “Thank you for telling me that. And I want you to know… I appreciate all of those things that you went though because they made you into the person that you are today.” He pauses when her eyes snap sharply to his, surprise evident in her expression. “Although I have to say, I now kind of understand now why you were so quick to jump onto Team Arrow back at the beginning. But how does what happened to you at MIT have anything to do with what happened three years ago?”

She doesn’t comment on the fact that he’s called it Team Arrow, something that Felicity would have jumped on three years ago, just bites her lip before responding. “Because Amanda Waller knew that I really wrote that code, not Cooper. She knew that I’d hacked into places that I shouldn’t have been, and she threatened my mother if I didn’t agree to come and work for her.”

Oliver freezes. Amanda Waller? He and Diggle had gone down that route, had begged Lyla to speak to Amanda, to use ARGUS resources to look for Felicity. She’d done her best, but there had been nothing. No record of Felicity anywhere, not at ARGUS or anywhere else on the planet.

And all of this was because of something she did in college? Something doesn’t quite add up there, but he’s not sure what he’s missing.

“She said that it’s not hard to make someone who the world already thinks is dead disappear,” she adds almost as an afterthought, and Oliver nearly sees red because anyone threatening Felicity’s life is still not acceptable.

“What- Amanda Waller? You’ve been with ARGUS? But Lyla…”

“She didn’t know,” Felicity interjects. “Amanda made sure of that.”

“But why…?”

“She needed me.” She shrugs, like it’s nothing. It’s everything. “Needed me to write her her own code, something that she’s been trying for ages to acquire but no one had been able to do it. I was able to do it. But then she started giving me more jobs, more responsibility, sending me into the field and-”

“What?” he croaks, because Felicity in the field is always something that makes him incredibly anxious.

“Oliver, I had to do it.” Her voice is panicked, trying to explain, but she’s just making more questions arise in his head. “She knew where my mother lived, where she worked. God, she had all these pictures just scattered all over my kitchen table, of her, of-” She stops herself, voice cracking. “And Amanda just sat there in my apartment. She was so calm about it all, like she spirited people away from the people they loved every day. She just laid out the facts and told me what was going to happen and there wasn’t another way out.”

Felicity stops, then scoots closer to him so they’re almost touching, knee to knee. She reaches out a hesitant hand to where his clenched fists rest on his lap. Her fingertips brush gently over his knuckles before they fall away. Sparks shoot up his arm from just that faint touch, answering his unasked question of his feelings for her.

“I am so sorry, Oliver. So sorry. I know what it’s like to be the one left behind and I never, I never, wanted to do that to you. To any of you.”

She’s so vehement, but her voice cracks right at the end and her eyes fill with tears as she stares at him, willing him to understand. He doesn’t say anything right away, because there are so many emotions inside of him battling for release. A tear spills over, trailing a path down her cheek and his hand automatically lifts to cup her face, thumb tracing over the wet path.

When he touches her she visibly deflates, sagging into him, and her head is a welcome weight in the palm of his hand. Her eyes hold his and something about the way she looks at him tells him that this isn’t the whole story. They’ve always had a connection that goes further than words and he just gazes at her, at the way her head fits in his hand like they were made to belong together.

“Oliver, I’m really tired,” she says after awhile, voice soft and eyes slowly drooping shut, head tipping to the side. “I feel like I haven’t really slept in years.”

“Okay,” he says, allowing himself to sweep his thumb over her cheek, just once, before drawing his hand away. “That’s okay, Felicity.” He wants to wrap her up and never let her go, but he settles for scooting back so that she can curl up against the arm of the couch. “I need to make a phone call. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

She nods sleepily. “Been by myself for three years. Think I can manage a nap on your couch.”

Her words slur together and the tone of her voice is so sad, yet completely accepting, that it crushes something inside of him. Felicity should be vibrant and full of life.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket he speed dials Diggle, stepping into the kitchen so that Felicity won’t overhear. She may seem like herself, but now that he knows that ARGUS is involved his thoughts are running wild and he needs a second opinion.

Can he trust her?

XXX

“What exactly is going on here, Oliver?” Diggle says once he’s caught sight of Felicity sound asleep in his living room. His voice is soft but harsh, shock evident in every word. As much as he’s missed Felicity, Oliver knows Diggle was just as affected by her disappearance. They had a bond that was deeper than mere friendship.

Oliver shakes his head, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. “I have no clue, Digg. She showed up here, stood right here in my kitchen, and ate all of my cereal.”

“Ate all of your cereal?” Diggle responds with a blank expression. “That’s what you’re concerned about? How about the part when she disappeared for three years and let us believe that she was dead?”

“I know!” Oliver shouts, then stops himself, the image of her tired eyes flashing in his head. “I know,” he repeats again in a calmer voice. “It- Amanda Waller found out about her. There was something Felicity did in college, at MIT. Amanda threatened her mother, blackmailed Felicity into working with ARGUS and we all know how easily Waller can make someone disappear.”

“ARGUS? But Lyla-”

“Had no idea. Felicity said that she never saw her. I don’t think she saw much of anyone,” he adds quietly. “Digg, she’s like the same Felicity, but not. I don’t know what happened to her in those three years but I don’t think it was all that good.”

“If ARGUS was involved I can guarantee it wasn’t all good,” Digg agrees, frustration evident in his voice. He crosses his arms across his chest and leans on the counter behind him. “How the hell did this happen? Right under our noses?”

Oliver shrugs, barely holding back from throwing his arms up in frustration. “I don’t know. I mean, we looked. We searched for days, for weeks, trying to find any trace of her. But there was nothing to find. We knew if Felicity didn’t want to be found then we wouldn’t be able to find her.” He stops, then turns away from Diggle. “I didn’t look hard enough.”

Diggle shakes his head. “Oliver, man, you can’t blame yourself. You tried. You worked yourself to the bone trying to find her and no one blames you for stopping. It wasn’t giving up. It would have killed you, doing that for three years. And right now that girl, she needs us, needs you, to be there for her.”

“Do you think this is a trap? Something set up by Amanda?” He voices the worry that’s been running circles in his head since that groundbreaking moment that she mentioned Amanda Waller’s name.

“To what end? We haven’t had contact with her in years, since before Felicity left. Things in Starling are pretty calm nowadays, thanks to Thea and Sara and Roy helping out. You’ve done good here, Oliver. I think that Felicity is back because Amanda didn’t need her anymore and she just tossed her aside.”

“Felicity’s not a piece of trash,” Oliver snaps.

“I know that.” Digg holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “You know that. But Amanda Waller sees people as commodities, as things she can use when she needs them, and when they’re not useful anymore she gets rid of them.”

“So you think what, Felicity just walked out of ARGUS headquarters on Amanda’s say so?”

Digg shakes his head. “No. I think Felicity Smoak is smarter than everyone who was in that building and she got herself out and she came straight to you because she knew that she could trust you. That you’d keep her safe.” He gestures towards the living room. “She fell asleep here, for god’s sake. It doesn’t get more trusting than that.”

Oliver nods slowly, eyes trained on the back of the couch. He can’t see her from here but he imagines her sleeping, peaceful. Everything she hasn’t been since he first laid eyes on her tonight.

“There’s something else at play here,” Oliver says after a moment. It’s kind of an afterthought, but it’s not really, because he’s pretty sure whatever she’s leaving out is important. Important enough to keep from him. “She explained what happened, most of it I think, but there’s something else she’s hiding. They threatened her mother-”

“I checked on her mother. Back then,” Diggle adds. “You know that. I looked into her right away because they weren’t close but I thought that maybe she ran there. She didn’t. There was nothing suspect there at all. No contact. I still check up on her from time to time.”

“I didn’t realize you still…”

“I know. You’ve had other things on your mind.”

Oliver can’t help but think again that Diggle and Felicity were much closer friends than he and Felicity had ever been. Oliver had never even heard Felicity mention her mother before today. Back then he hadn’t even thought to look for her, to let her know what had happened to her daughter, why she…

“What does her mom think happened to her?” Oliver asks because even if they weren’t very close, three years is a long time to go without talking to your only daughter. At the time, he hadn’t been concerned so much with what Donna Smoak knew or didn’t know. He’d been a man on a mission to find Felicity, with blinders on to everything else. Now he feels guilty because what does her mom think happened to her?

Digg shrugs. “She doesn’t know anything, as far as I could tell. I mean, I’m not as good as Felicity with computers, but Donna didn’t seem to know that anything was even out of place. I have to wonder now if that had something to do with Amanda.”

“Or Felicity,” Oliver adds, knowing the fierce way Felicity cares about her loved ones. But the thought of her letting her mother know she was okay and choosing not to do the same for he and Diggle tears at something inside of him.

He vigorously rubs his hands across his face and over his head, threading his hands together behind his neck. It’s nearly three am, he was up at the crack of dawn for a meeting, and he’s got a long day ahead of him today as well.

“I need to get some sleep,” Oliver says and Digg nods in agreement. “But I can’t… I don’t want to…”

“I got it,” his friend replies and Oliver lets out a heavy breath. 

“Okay. I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit, then I’ll take second watch. You need to be somewhat coherent tomorrow too. Isn’t it Lyla’s final check up?” Digg makes a sound of agreement, muted excitement clear on his face.


Oliver heads into the living room and settles himself on one of the armchairs, ensures that Felicity is in his eyesight, and props his feet on the coffee table. Digg sits in the other one and pulls out his phone. The glow from the screen is the only light in the room and Oliver finds his eyes pulled to Felicity’s sleeping form once again.

She looks so small curled up there. Was she always that tiny? Her face, pale and devoid of any makeup, is like a beacon against the darkness of her surroundings.

What happened to her while she was away? He imagines the things that Amanda Waller is capable of, things that haunt his nightmares.

He falls asleep and dreams of bright lipstick and high heels, of blood and destruction.

XXX

Felicity wakes with a start. She used to be someone who hated mornings and took ages to be fully coherent, but now she wakes up instantly. Head on a swivel, she takes in her surroundings.

Oliver’s apartment. Right.

With a sigh, she takes note of the time. She slept for two hours. That might be a record, she thinks. It’s certainly longer than she’s usually able to stay asleep. And she’s pretty sure she didn’t have any nightmares either. She feels more rested and alert than she has in days, since she-

A mumbled groan distracts her, drawing her eyes across the room. There’s a darkened shape slumped on the chair closest to her, arms crossed over his chest.

Oliver.

Just being this close to him, knowing that he’s here and they’re together, makes her heart swell in the best possible way. She trained herself to be alone, thought that it was better not to think of the people she’d left behind, but now that she’s here, with him, it’s clear that it wasn’t better.

This is better, this feeling of safety, of community.

A rustle from the other side of the couch startles her and she leaps to her feet, heart thudding erratically in her chest.

A large shadow, tall and broad, looms above her.

It’s a familiar shadow, one that makes tears spring to her eyes.

“Digg!” she exclaims in a whisper, conscious of Oliver slumbering just feet away.

He opens his arms and she flings herself into them, and it feels like she’s finally home. She has her boys, they’re both here, and everything is going to be okay now. Tears pool in her eyes and she squeezes them shut, burying her face into his chest.

“C’mere.” He ushers her into the kitchen, switching on one of the overhead lights. She squints at the drastic change until her eyes adjust.

“I’m so happy to see you, John,” she says, smiling tremulously at him. “You have no idea…”

“I have some idea,” he says softly. “Probably just as happy as I am to see you. Felicity, three years…” The words trail off and she bites her lip, wondering how much Oliver told him.

“I know. I’m so sorry…”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize. Oliver told me, about Amanda, about ARGUS. Felicity, that’s a dangerous game you’re playing.”

Doesn’t she know it. She lived it. “It’s not a game. I’m done with that. With them.”

“Waller just let you leave? Free and clear? That doesn’t sound like the same Amanda Waller that I know.”

“Well, no,” Felicity hedges. “But I had to get out of there. Digg, she threatened my mother to get me there. She threatened you, Lyla, she threatened Oliver to keep me there.”

Digg pauses, a frown on his face. “I figured it was something like that. You didn’t tell Oliver that part, did you?”

She shakes her head. “He’d just blame himself even more. He already thinks that it’s his fault, when it’s mine for creating that code years ago and not doing a good enough cleanse of my tracks.”

“Felicity?”

Oliver’s voice is panicked and rough with sleep. There’s a thud from his direction and then he comes barreling into the kitchen before either she or John can move a muscle. He stares wildly at her, breathing heavily, before giving his head a rough shake. There’s a moment where none of them move; they just hang in in the balance. And then Oliver turns around and strides out of the room, raking his fingers through his hair.

She turns to look at Diggle, a question in her eyes.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “You need to talk to him about that. Not me.” She bites her lip, looking in the direction he’d disappeared in. “But just know, Felicity, he’s changed while you were gone. He’s not the same person you might remember.”

She turns back, meets Diggle’s eyes head on. “I’m not the same person that I used to be, either.”

XXX

Felicity finds him on the balcony. The cold air helps to ground his thoughts, helps to remind him that this is his reality. Starling City, his work as the Arrow, his work at QC, those are the things that are real.

Waking up and seeing her gone had ripped through him. The thoughts that had raced through his head, the cracking in his chest… He doesn’t know if he can deal with those thoughts right now.

He feels her standing behind him, hovering on the border between inside and outside. That hesitance is something that he’s not familiar with. She never used to be timid with him, was never afraid to speak up when he was being an ass. This change in her makes him want to tear through Amanda Waller and anyone else who helped to make her into this person.

“Oliver?”

He shudders, hands clenching on the railing before turning to face her. Her eyes are more focused, more alert than before, narrowing as she surveys him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grinds out.

“Try again.”

“I’m fine, Felicity.”

“Oliver, we don’t lie to each other.”

“Apparently, we do.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I deserved that.” She steps closer to him and mirrors his pose, arm resting on the railing as her eyes survey the Starling City skyline. It’s silent for a moment, both of them lost in memories.

“Did you contact your mom? When you left?” he asks, because he just has to know if she chose to ignore them.

She turns to him, a bewildered look crossing her face. “What? No, I haven’t- I haven’t talked to my mom since before… Amanda, she- she said that she took care of it, so I guess my mom thinks I’m dead too?” Her eyes cloud with sorrow, a frown mars her face. “I don’t know how I’m going to fix that one.”

Relief floods through him. Knowing that she hadn’t talked to her mom and not to him eases his mind. Sort of. And at least he can fix this one thing for her. “Diggle kept an eye on your mom. He’s pretty sure that she doesn’t know anything about your disappearance. Knowing what we know now, we think that Amanda fed her some information explaining your absence.”

Felicity nods slowly, eyes looking back out into the distance. The sun is just starting to rise, giving her skin a warm glow. Her hair moves gently around her face in the faint breeze. Oliver stares at her and she must feel his eyes on her because she turns to meet his gaze.

“Oliver, do you remember what we talked about, the last time we were together?”

He nods shortly, because in the time after she was gone there was little else he could think about. Memories of her excited smile, the way her lips had curled up in the corners, the flush that stained her cheeks, the joyful sparkle in her eyes. She’d haunted his dreams for months, that one happy moment in a lifetime of darkness.

And now she has her own darkness and that memory seems like a dream from another lifetime.

“I remember.” His voice is soft, if a bit sad.

She nods, stepping closer to him. “That memory, it… it helped me. You helped me. That I could remember what was out there waiting for me. Or what I hoped was waiting for me,” she adds with a wry smile. “I mean, it’s been three years, so I would totally understand if you’ve moved on. That’s a long time to wait for some Italian.”

It’s the most Felicity-like thing he’s heard her say this whole time and he moves until they’re chest to chest, nearly touching but not quite. She tips her chin up to look at him, her eyes roaming nervously across his face. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip and he stares at them, can’t tear his eyes away from her mouth.

“Everybody likes Italian, right?” he asks, hands coming up to rest on her shoulders. His thumbs draw tiny circles as a shiver dances through her. He can feel his tremor mirror hers, his body reacting to their closeness.

“Right,” she says hoarsely, tears in her voice. Her hands grab onto his forearms, like she’s grounding herself to him. He hopes she never lets go.

He smiles and bends to her, brushes his lips against hers. Just once. It’s like coming home.

“I should have done that a long time ago.”

Chapter Text

The bass is thumping, sweat drips down her body, and Felicity wishes she were anywhere else but here.

They are surrounded by sweaty people moving to the beat and Felicity’s completely embarrassed because she is so obviously out of her element. She just cannot keep up. Her feet are moving a mile a minute but just when she gets the hang of things the music changes and she ends up nearly colliding with the person beside her or tripping over her own feet as she attempts to overcorrect.

This is torture. Pure, unadulterated torture, disguised by a tagline that makes it sound like a party.

They’re supposed to be on vacation, for goodness sake. Vacation, in her opinion, does not include submitting oneself to activities that are best left to professionals. No, this vacation is supposed to be about she and Oliver, by themselves and away from all the drama and danger of Starling City. This vacation is supposed to be about relaxing and rejuvenating and reconnecting. It’s supposed to be about being together. And sure, they’re here together, but nothing about this is relaxing.

Instead she feels like an idiot as she swings her arms side to side and makes a sad attempt to shimmy her hips and make her feet move at the same time. Her limbs do not cooperate and she’s fairly sure she looks like a completely uncoordinated scarecrow.

She nearly bumps into Oliver as everyone except her suddenly changes directions. He reaches a hand out to steady her and helps her face the right direction while not missing a beat himself.

How on earth is he doing this?

She feels like she knows Oliver fairly well. She’s seen him at his worst, at his best, and all the parts in between. They’ve been teammates, friends, and partners for years. But today he’s caught her completely off guard, from the first suggestion to the moment the music had started pounding and his hips had started moving.

“How did we even end up here,” she hisses at Oliver, eyeing him up and down as he moves and she halfheartedly shifts her weight back and forth to the beat.

The look he sends her is smug. “I promised you dinner. And sex.”

She rolls her eyes, breath huffing unevenly. “Are you kidding me? You do that every day anyways. How much wine did I drink last night?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because of course she knows that she drank more than half the bottle while she and Oliver were curled up together on the couch watching a Property Brothers marathon. But he answers anyways, his voice even.

He’s not even out of breath!

And okay. She knows he’s in insane shape. He’s probably the healthiest, fittest person she’s ever met. Possibly on the face of the planet. But this isn’t the salmon ladder, or hitting that big tire thingy with the big hammer thingy, or sparring with Digg, or even parkouring off of every surface imaginable.

Nope.


But somehow, he’s better than her at this anyways. He’s even better than lots of the other people here too, many of whom are clearly regulars.

Man, she can’t help but think that if Digg could see him now (and if they were talking again, those stupid boys), he’d probably die laughing.

Oliver in a Zumba class is really a sight to behold.

He’s dressed in his regular workout clothes, but the blacks and greys of his clothing stand out in the room full of middle aged women wearing brightly coloured Lululemon.

And of course, there’s the fact that he’s a young, attractive guy in a class filled with suburban housewives. There had definitely been some staring and whispers when they’d come in the room. Some of the women Felicity recognizes from around their neighbourhood, although they haven’t been in Ivy Town long enough to be formally introduced. They’re probably some of the same ladies who seem to always mysteriously be outside when Oliver goes out for a run.

This, however, is not running. His hips are rolling rhythmically in a way that she’s only seen in their bedroom, sweat pouring off his body as he gives the routine his all. She’s trying to do the same, but it’s like she has two left feet and a sense of rhythm that was left to die in the cold.

Still, she wiggles a bit back so that she can keep Oliver completely in her eyesight. If she’s going to be subjected to this torture and fail terribly at this class, then she’s at least going to enjoy the view. It’s even more delicious considering that she knows that they’re going to go home together and do homey things, like pick up some groceries or open a bottle of wine to enjoy. And also that they’re probably also going to do some sexy things too.

“Alright! Nice!” The instructor bops over to stand in front of Oliver and smiles appreciatively at him. She keeps doing the steps, mirroring him, and they look like some kind of synchronized duet.

It’s surprisingly not sexual in the slightest, just two people having fun moving to the music. Felicity gets distracted watching them, because the instructor is good and Oliver is not too shabby either, and accidentally bumps into the lady beside her.

“Oops! Sorry,” she says, a blush joining her already flushed and sweaty face. The lady just smiles back at her, although she kind of looks sorry for her as well. Felicity huffs out a breath, turning back to focus on the instructor.

All things considered, being terrible at Zumba is not the worst thing in the world. She’s amazing at lots of other things that don’t involve having a sense of rhythm.

Which reminds her, she needs to get some time away from Oliver and check in with the team. The last time she’d spoken to them, Digg had told her that there were some new players in town calling themselves ‘Ghosts’. She feels isolated away from the team like this. She’s happy. Ridiculously happy, maybe happier than she’s ever been, but there’s still a niggling feeling that she’s letting the team down, that there’s something missing from the life she and Oliver are building here.

He doesn’t feel that way. She knows because she can read him like a book and he’s been so relaxed and happy since they’ve settled down. He fits in so well here, from helping their neighbours put together their barbecue to sharing slow cooker recipes, to freaking Zumba, Oliver Queen fits in ridiculously well in the suburbs.

It’s unexpected but it makes pleasure bloom inside of her chest, seeing him all comfortable and open and himself. She thinks this is the first time in over eight years that Oliver has been able to completely be himself. It’s amazing and sometimes she still can’t believe that he chose her to spend this time with.

The instructor sashays off to the middle of the room, shouting encouragement all the way, and Oliver turns and sends her a seductive grin over his shoulder. It sends sparks zapping straight to her centre and her eyes instantly fly to the clock above the door. How long until she gets to take her incredibly sexy and sweaty boyfriend home?

Oh god. Ten minutes.

Her heart is pounding out of her chest and her legs are starting to feel like jelly. But she can do this. If Oliver can do this, if this group of women can do this, she can do this. She is Felicity Smoak. She’s jumped out of a plane, she’s zip lined above the streets of Starling, she’s been swung off of a land mine like Tarzan for crying out loud! If she can do all of those things then she can survive the last ten minutes of this torturous class.

And then, miraculously, the music slows into something more her speed. More slow dance and less spaz on the dance floor. The instructor leads them through a series of stretches and as her heart rate lowers to a somewhat normal speed, she feels Oliver’s eyes on her.

Well, if she has one thing going for her in this class, it’s that she’s pretty flexible. She’d made it through a couple years of gymnastics lessons as a kid and she’s always been able to do the splits if she was so inclined, which she’s honestly never been, but feeling Oliver watching her as she reaches for her toes sends something hot burning through her.

They finish up by sitting cross-legged on the floor and doing some deep breathing and she can’t focus on the breaths because Oliver is gazing hungrily at her, like he wants to devour her on the spot. Which, while an attractive idea, is not ideal in a room full of sweaty people. She prefers for the two of them to be the only two sweaty people in the room.

“Thank you for coming, everyone.” The instructor wraps up the class and Oliver scrambles to his feet, grabs her hand, and hauls her out of the room before anyone else has even stood up.

She splutters as she stumbles along behind him. He leads her down the hallway, past the front desk, and out the front door.

“Hey! Oliver, my shoes-”

He doesn’t answer, just rounds the corner of the building and presses her firmly against it, moulding his lips to hers with a insistent noise. She responds enthusiastically, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against his. She wraps her arms around him and grips his shirt with both hands, pulling him towards her. He needs to be closer. As close as he can get. His hands slide up her sides, teasing the sides of her breasts before slipping up her neck to cup her jaw. He slows down, thumbs moving gently against her cheeks, and presses one more firm kiss to her lips before drawing slightly away.

“You’re really sweaty,” she says, tipping her chin to look at him. They’re plastered together and she can feel exactly how hard he was working in that class. “I like it.”

He grins at her, teeth flashing, before leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. “So are you.”

She nips his back. He tastes so delicious. “Let’s go home. Right now.”

She really loves the sound of that, loves saying it, loves that they get to go home together, loves that they have a home together. It’s such a small word but it has such huge implications.

He reluctantly steps back, recognizing that the gym parking lot is not the best place for post workout sex, but his dark eyes stay trained on her.

“Be right back,” she promises, quickly running inside to the locker she’d stashed her shoes and sweater in. When she comes back Oliver’s standing exactly where she left him, all sweaty and casually leaning on the wall, serenely staring out at the parking lot. He looks peaceful.

Her heart thumps in her chest because he’s hers. And she’s his. And she’s not one for that whole ‘I belong to you’ thing, but there’s something comforting in knowing that they belong to each other. It settles something inside of her that she hadn’t realized existed.

“Ready!” she chips, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He swings an arm around her, tucking her into his side, and they make their way down the sidewalk together.

They’re almost back to the house when she finally can’t stand it any longer.

“Are we really not going to talk about how you’re apparently some secret Zumba star?”

Chapter Text

Oliver is already annoyed before he even pulls into the parking lot. He doesn’t want to be here, had purposely made plans ahead of time so that he wouldn’t have to be here, but his coworkers are apparently sabotaging his attempt to be a responsible adult.

It’s Saturday morning and so of course there are no parking spots.

Which is precisely the reason that he’d asked Roy to stop by yesterday to pick up the screws they needed. So he’d be able to show up at the job site and get right to work on this damn project that is, honestly, never-ending.

It’s been one thing after another, from needing permits and waiting for inspections, to unforeseen plumbing issues. And then the delivery of the pre-fab cabinets was delayed, meaning Oliver now gets to spend his Saturday morning putting them together so that the rest of the job can stay on track. The quartz countertops are scheduled to be delivered first thing Monday, so he needs to get the stupid kitchen assembled, and get out of there without giving up his entire weekend.

But no. Of course Roy forgot and Tommy forgot which left Oliver parking miles from the store entrance, because Starling City’s Home Depot is a zoo. Once he’s out of his truck and making the hike to the front doors, he’s nearly accosted by a parent chasing a runaway toddler, a cart rolling on it’s own almost takes him out, and as he dodges out of the way he steps in a giant puddle, a remnant from last night’s thunderstorm.

Stepping inside the store, one foot squelching noisily, Oliver runs a hand over his head and blows out a frustrated breath. It’s noisy and crowded and the absolute last place he wants to be, but he can’t assemble the new cupboards without these freaking screws.

Oliver’s spent enough time in this store since they opened QM Construction that he now knows exactly where he’ll find what he needs. With a rueful smile, he remembers the first time he stepped foot in a home renovation store.

He’d been with Tommy and the two of them had been in way over their heads. An offshoot idea had quickly led to them buying a rundown fixer upper in the Glades. They’d figured with a few thousand dollars and some tools they could do a quick flip and make some money that hadn’t come from their parents.

How “reality” television had lied to them.

Quick flips were a lot of work, not to mention the knowledge you needed about things like plumbing and wiring and how to use basic power tools. Which were likely things that normal people learned about from their parents or whatever, but for Oliver and Tommy, who had parents who owned multimillion dollar companies and had never fixed a leaky pipe in their lives, they’d never been exposed to the realities of home renovations.

Thinking back, Oliver still remembers the panic running through his system during that first flip. It had taken them nearly a year to finish the tiny home, making mortgage payments, shelling out money for tools and tradespeople to do jobs that he and Tommy had no idea how to do. It wasn’t until the building inspector had told them they needed structural work before he’d approve their plans that they’d realized they were really in over their heads.

Oliver chuckles, striding to Aisle 6, as he remembers the desperate, pleading phone call he’d made to John Diggle, a contractor they’d had in to give a quote for some work at the very beginning of the renovation. They originally hadn’t hired him, believing they could manage everything on their own (“If I can schedule an all-expenses paid vacation in Europe then I can manage some workers in a house” Oliver distinctly remembers Tommy saying) but after things just kept piling up on them, Oliver had to admit that they were in too deep.

John Diggle had swooped in, addressing and fixing the structural issues with little problem, but he’d given Oliver an earful, saying that he didn’t stand for shoddy workmanship and that it was irresponsible to think that they could renovate a home on their own with no knowledge of what they were doing. Someone was going to get hurt and that wasn’t okay with him.

“Look, Mr. Queen,” Digg had said, a serious look on his face that told Oliver he wasn’t getting out of this conversation unscathed. They’d been standing amongst the shambles in the house, framing and wires exposed, and Oliver distinctly remembers having absolutely no idea how to rebuild any of it. “I’m sure you thought this little project would be a fun thing to occupy your copious amounts of free time. But someone, some family, is going to buy this house. They’re going to make memories here, make it a home, and unless you do things properly, they’re going to end up paying the price.”

For some reason this had resonated with Oliver. Sure, when he and Tommy had first bought the house he’d briefly thought of the people who would eventually buy it, but they’d been faceless people with down payment in hand. After hearing Diggle’s words, he’d pictured a family, parents cooking in the kitchen, little kids running around the house, playing with a dog in the backyard, and suddenly it was real. What they were doing would have a real impact on real people.

So Oliver had hired Diggle on the spot, ensuring that the house would be completed not only in a timely manner but properly and to code. And now, over forty homes and four years later, he and Diggle work in near synchronicity, renovating and restoring the plentiful older homes in the rundown Glades to their former glory, while Tommy now handles all the paperwork and real estate aspects. After word got out about their successes in the Glades, their business expanded beyond flipping houses to home renovations all across Starling City.

Oliver is proud of their business and how it’s grown. He’s also pretty proud of himself and what he’s learned, both working on his own and with Diggle. His hands have hard-earned callouses, his body is strong and lean, and he knows more about home renovation than he’d ever imagined. It’s a far cry from the spoiled rich boy he’d been five years ago and he’s never been happier. The feeling of accomplishment when he finishes a job, when potential buyers like the finishes he’s selected, or when they sell a house to a new family and he sees the excitement and possibility in their eyes is something he hadn’t expected but really enjoys.

But, Oliver thinks darkly, with Diggle had come his apprentice, Roy Harper. Oliver liked Roy well enough at first. He was eager to take on the jobs that Oliver hated and he always brought coffee when he arrived on site in the morning. However, Thea tended to pop by their worksites and she had come nosing around one when Oliver hadn’t been there. She and Roy had instantly hit it off and that had been that.

To say that Oliver was displeased was… Well, it would be true. Because Roy was a good guy and all that, but Oliver knew about his past and he thought Thea could do better.

Thea hadn’t agreed, loudly and without holding back, leading to a huge fight between the siblings. Weeks later it had finally ended only when Oliver apologized with an expensive bottle of wine and admitted that Thea was an adult who was allowed to make her own choices about who she spent her time with.

In any case, that didn’t mean that Oliver approved of their relationship. But he’d accepted it, somewhat begrudgingly, although he still hassled Roy at every opportunity.

And there would be another opportunity now that he’d forgotten the one thing that Oliver had asked him to make sure was on site this morning. Roy should be counting his lucky stars that he hadn’t gotten an angry phone call yet, considering it’s barely 7am.

Weaving around eager shoppers laden down with home improvement products, Oliver ducks into the aisle and finds it blessedly quiet. Apparently the Saturday morning shoppers are not in dire need of drywall screws and anchors.

He’s partway down the aisle when he catches sight of her.

Oliver stops in his tracks when he sees the small blonde standing in front of the rows of containers that hold all the loose fasteners. His one wet foot is immediately forgotten. His annoyance at Roy disappears. Her lips move as though she’s talking to herself, and her hands flutter in front of her. Her hair is pulled back in a lopsided ponytail that has seen better days and a pair of rectangular glasses are perched on her nose. He’s not sure why but he’s instantly drawn in, instantly interested in her.

Maybe it’s because there are rarely single, attractive women in Home Depot. Maybe it’s because Thea had tried again last night to set him up with a woman that she works with and he’d told her again that he didn’t have time to date right now. Maybe it’s because of the amazing denim-clad ass that completely draws his attention as it shifts back and forth while it’s owner moves across the rows of containers, completely focused on the shelves in front of her.

Either way, he stands there frozen for longer than he’d like to admit, until an older man with a cart bumps into him trying to get past and shoots Oliver a dirty look as he moves past.

“Sorry,” Oliver mutters, stepping aside.

The man passes the blonde girl, who turns to look at him, a hopeful look in her eye, but the man doesn’t notice and disappears at the end of the aisle. She turns back to the display in front of her with a heavy sigh.

Oliver hesitates for a moment, but when she bites her lip and pulls out her phone, tapping away at the screen, he steps forward, hands tucked into his pockets. “Do you need some help?”

She jumps, whirling around with her phone pressed to her chest. “Oh my God! Holy crap, you scared me! But yes, I do need help, thank goodness. Do you work here?” She peers at him through her glasses, taking in his worn work jeans and t-shirt. “You don’t look like you work here. Although you do look like you know what you’re doing with your hands. I mean, you look like you know what you’re doing. With construction-y things. That’s all. Do you?”

She sends a hopeful grin his way that he finds himself returning. Her eyes are bright and blue behind the lens of her glasses, her lips unpainted but full.

“I… I know a bit,” he replies with a small nod. “What are you looking for?”

“Oh, thank God.” She sways a bit, eyes rising heavenwards. “The pipe under my sink has been leaking for awhile and it decided to burst this morning while I was filling the coffeemaker, so I haven’t even had any caffeine today, which, trust me, is not a good thing. But I looked it up online and it said I need something called a C-clamp, but I can’t seem to find anything like that here.” She finishes with an annoyed wave at the shelves and shelves of nails and screws.

Oliver barely holds back a laugh. “Well, that would be because they’re not here.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her blue eyes grow wide. “This is Home Depot. Aren’t they supposed to have everything? Ugh, I am not in the mood to go driving around the city looking for this stupid thing while my sink leaks all over my kitchen.”

“Didn’t you turn off the main shut off valve?”

She stares blankly at him.

“Didn’t you turn off the water?” he amends.

“Oh. Yes, of course I turned off the water,” she retorts, annoyance evident in her tone. “I have a masters degree from MIT, I know that I need to turn off the water when there’s a leak.” She pauses and bites her lip as she blushes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. You’re just a kind and very attractive stranger attempting to help me and I just really need some coffee and to find this clamp thing and now I need to drive across town and fight my way through another busy store-”

“No, no,” Oliver corrects her quickly. “I meant you’re in the wrong aisle. This is nails and screws. You need the plumbing aisle.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks get pink as she presses her lips together. “Well, since I’ve rambled to you multiple times already, you can see the danger of letting me out in public before I’ve had my coffee. Do you think you could help me find it? The clamp, not the coffee, seeing as we’re in Home Depot.”

All thoughts of getting in and out of the store as quickly as possible fly out the window as the tiny blonde peers hopefully up at him, an endearing smile playing around her lips.

“Sure,” he agrees. “Just let me grab what I need and I’ll show you.”

He reaches around her to the bin that holds the loose screws he needs and scoops some into the palm of his hand. She doesn’t move out of the way and their bodies get close enough that he can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The faint smell of vanilla wafts over him and he finds himself hesitant to move away.

What is wrong with him? He doesn’t even know her name. He quickly steps back, grabbing a small plastic bag to drop the screws into. He marks down the bin number, aware of her eyes on him the whole time. She’s silent though, which although he’s known her for all of five minutes, seems strange considering the steady stream of words that have flowed from her mouth since he first came over.

“Um. I’m Felicity, by the way,” she says with an awkward little wave. She closes her eyes after, dropping her hand immediately.

“Oliver,” he says, as he gestures for them to start walking. The plumbing section is on the opposite side of the store, and he keeps a hand hovering a breath away from her lower back to ensure they stay close together. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

“So, do you know a lot about home renovation?” she asks as they walk. “I mean, you seem like you do, but-”

“I do. I own a construction business with a friend of mine. We flip houses, do home renovations and restoration. We’re mostly focused in the Glades, renovating homes and bringing them back to their glory days so that new families can enjoy them, although in the last little while we’ve expanded to jobs across the city.”

Oliver isn’t a big talker but when he gets on the topic of his work he can go for hours.

Felicity’s voice is excited and she bounces a bit as she walks beside him. “Wow! That’s amazing, Oliver. Did you know that the Glades used to be a booming part of Starling City? It used to host all sorts of theatres and galleries and attracted many famous artists back before the Depression. But then after the wars it just sunk into despair until it was deemed too big a project to restore by the city. Which is terrible because there are so many gorgeous buildings with interesting architecture that could be made beautiful again if only someone cared - which I guess you do!”

Oliver blinks, a bit stunned. “Most people think what we’re doing is crazy,” he says slowly. Even his parents hadn’t supported he and Tommy at first, refusing to sink any money into their projects. “They think there’s no way to rebuild the Glades. But we, my business partner and I, we think it’s worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it,” Felicity says quickly, as though the words have offended her. “There’s no reason to let a whole area of the city fall into nothingness just because it’s a big project. There are so many families in need and bringing life into that area will spur on businesses to open there and lead to more people wanting to live there. It can only get better.”

“Yes. That’s it exactly.” Excitement bubbles inside him and Oliver stops and turns to look at her and finds her looking up at him. There’s a fire burning in her eyes and he can’t seem to make himself look away. “You’re very passionate about the Glades.”

Felicity blushes. “I live there,” she admits. “I’ve actually lived there almost my whole life, since after my dad left us, and I know it’s seedy and it’s the bad area of town, but my mom worked hard to put a roof over our heads. There’s nothing wrong with the Glades. It’s unloved right now but I believe that it can be brought back to life, that it’s a worthwhile project. What you’re doing is honourable.”

He doesn’t respond right away and she quickly barrels on. “I mean, I totally have a job. A good job. I could live somewhere else, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. And my house is nice, it’s not seedy. Just, you know, there are sometimes some less than stellar characters hanging around the neighbourhood.”

“I’m not judging you, Felicity. There’s nothing wrong with the Glades and I’m sorry that people made you think you needed to be embarrassed about where you lived.”

“Yeah, well kids can be cruel,” she replies, eyes falling to the ground. “But anyways, enough about me. I need to fix this leaky pipe, like yesterday, so lets find this clamp-thing so I can stick it on.”

Oliver inwardly cringes. She sounds perky and confident and clearly has no idea what she’s doing, but he just nods and starts walking again. They quickly come to the plumbing section and he leads her to the right area. He’s never actually had to patch a leaky pipe himself. They usually just remove the section and replace it with new materials or if it’s a small repair then Roy does it. But he does know how to fix one. Probably.

“Okay, so here’s the clamp. And you’ll need epoxy too. This one is the best brand,” he explains, pointing to one on the middle shelf. “You’ll also need some waterproof tape and you could get a self-tapping plug just in case the leak is too big for the epoxy to stick. If it’s too big though you might want to think about using a patch kit.”

Felicity stares blankly at him, as though he’s speaking Mandarin. After a moment she shakes her head as she realizes that he’s waiting for her to respond.

“Oh! Yeah, sure, patch kit, tape thingy, that other thingy. No problem.” She bites her lip again and reaches out to the container he’d recommended.

“Felicity, do you want some help with your pipe?” Oliver asks, then mentally kicks himself because that sounds completely awkward, not to mention he’s basically a stranger offering to come to her home to fix her plumbing. Idiot. “I mean-”

“Yes!” she exclaims, interrupting his sure to be sad explanation. “Oh my gosh, yes, please come home with me and make my place less wet.”

There’s a moment of silence before she slaps a hand across her eyes, groaning loudly. “I swear my brain thinks of the worst way to say things.”

Oliver huffs out a laugh. “Maybe we can stop for some coffee on the way.”

Chapter Text

Oliver hasn’t looked up from the screen in days.

Well, he’s actually not quite sure about that, because that would mean he’d done something crazy like look at a clock, which he definitely hasn’t. However, the grainy feeling behind his lids certainly leads him to believe that it’s been a long time since he’s come up for air.

But he’s on a roll, his characters coming together to solve the crime and find the killer, and even though the protagonist knows more than he’s letting on, and the final threads he’s left hanging are knitting themselves together so perfectly that it’s as if the story is just flowing out of his fingers from some higher power.

A familiar ‘rat-tat-tat’ on the door jerks him out of a world that exists only in his brain and on the screen of his laptop and he’s instantly annoyed.

Firstly because he already knows who’s at the door and she’s probably going to yell at him for not eating and for letting everything in his apartment to go to shit while he types until his fingers fall off.

And also because she’s interrupting.

But mostly because she’s going to yell.

She has a scary loud voice.

He doesn’t get up, trying to finish up the scene he’s currently working on before she eventually drags him away to do unimportant things like bathe. The two main characters are on a mission to finally interview one of the world’s most dangerous prisoners in an attempt to find out more about the killer, a professional escape artist who’d escaped from the prison weeks earlier only to go on what seems like a murderous rampage.

“Hey! Oliver, I’m talking to you.”

He groans, fingers stilling on the keyboard before rolling his eyes heavenward. Can she not see that he’s working? That he’s busy?

“I don’t care if you’re busy, buster. You haven’t been out of your apartment in over a week. It smells like something died in here.”

Oliver breathes deeply, trying to calm his mounting annoyance, but gives up when he just ends up breathing in a combination of her perfume mixed with the disgusting smell of something rotting. He turns in his chair, leaving his characters behind to fix a frosty glare on his best friend.

“Felicity. I’m working.”

She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently drawing his eyes there, before they jerk back to her face. “Yes, Oliver, I can see that. If by working you mean starving yourself and letting an ungodly amount of facial hair grow on your incredibly chiseled chin. Not to mention neglecting basic personal hygiene.” She wrinkles her nose, which is adorable, but he just shakes his head.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You need a shower. Desperately. I don’t even know what I’m thinking, standing this close to you.”

She’s not even close to him at all, standing over an arm’s length away, and he wonders for a moment what that says about his current state. Felicity tends to gravitate towards him, like a magnet. She lets her eyes pass over the main living area of his apartment and he follows her gaze.

Okay.

“It’s a bit messy,” he admits and she whirls to look at him, face aghast.

“A bit messy?” Her voice rises in astonishment. “Oliver, you have a week old something sitting there. I actually can’t even tell what it once was.” She peers closer then quickly backs away.

Okay, now she’s just being dramatic. It’s not like he’s going to die if his apartment is a little bit messy. He desperately wants to roll his eyes, but knows that she’ll lay into him if he does.

“I have a deadline I have to meet,” he starts, attempting to explain. “If I don’t-”

She cuts him off with her hand. Her eyebrows rise behind her glasses as she regards him as though he’s an especially slow child. “Oliver. I know you have a deadline. Why else do you think that I’m here?”

He pauses. Besides going radio silent, which is completely normal around deadline time, he doesn’t know why she’s here. “You know when my deadlines are?”

“Of course,” she scoffs. “I started marking them on my calendar a long time ago. So I would know when I need to come over and intervene in these kinds of… situations.” Her lips twist into a moue as her eyebrows draw close together.

Then she steps closer to him, apparently deeming it safe enough. His mind short circuits for a minute because frustration makes her cheeks flush and her eyes are so bright they’re nearly blazing and…

No. He’s not going there, not after last time. He and Felicity are friends. She is his best friend and he doesn’t know what he’d do without her in his life and he’s not planning on finding out. So there’s no thinking about how beautiful she looks standing in the midst of the wreckage of his living room, all bright colours in a sea of grey.

“What do you mean, these kinds of situations?” he asks instead, tipping his chin up to meet her eyes because he still isn’t giving in and abandoning his computer. The second he does, she’ll snatch it away until he at least agrees to shower. They’ve been here before, although he hadn’t realized that she’d marked his deadlines on her calendar. That’s another whole level of commitment.

“You know,” she says, hands flying wildly. “These situations where you absolutely forget how to take care of yourself.”

Oliver frowns. “I know how to take care of myself.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday.” He’s pretty confident anyways. “I ordered pizza.”

“This pizza?” she asks, gesturing to a plate beside his computer that definitely no longer resembles pizza.

“Okay, okay, fine. Maybe it’s been a little longer than that.” He crosses his arms over his chest. Felicity’s eyes flick down and then back to his face and she purses her lips, which are painted bright pink.

“Oliver.” Her voice is firm, bordering on Loud Voice and leaving no room for excuses. “Stop acting like a child. Go and shower. I’ll make some food, something with some vitamins and minerals and all those things that are good for you and you will eat a meal with another human being. Your work will still be here after.”

He hesitates, but the look on her face tells him that she’s not leaving until he’s at least bathed and eaten something, so he heaves a more dramatic than necessary sigh and stands up, arms falling to his sides. He towers over her when they’re standing this close together but she just smiles up at him, looking incredibly pleased with herself. Then she darts around him, snaps his laptop shut, and slips it under her arm.

He shakes his head at himself. He should know better than to try and outsmart Felicity Smoak.

“Go! I don’t have all night, mister.” She points a green tipped finger in the direction of his bathroom. “Get in there and take off your clothes and wash that smell off of you.”

Her cheeks turn pink and she bites her lip, probably holding in some kind of comment about him taking his clothes off. She’s gotten better at holding in her sexual and generally inappropriate babbles around him, something that both pleases and disappoints him.

When they first met, back before he’d published a word, she couldn’t hold them in. He’d loved how words used to just flow out of her, straight from her mind to his ears without any filter, but he’d learned that it was nearly all due to nerves. It had eventually petered out, and he likes that she’s more comfortable around him now, that she doesn’t get so nervous and is able to just be herself, especially since they’ve been neighbours for years and friends for almost as long.

But he does sometimes miss those stream-of-consciousness innuendos. The way they'd made her blush or bite her lip...

He gives her a mock salute and then trudges to the bathroom. Once inside he experimentally sniffs under his arm.

Okay. Maybe Felicity had had the right idea with the whole shower thing.

Once he’s clean and dressed in new clothes, he comes back to find his apartment transformed. Felicity has picked up all the crap that he’d left littered around and she has something delicious simmering on the stove. The smell makes him realize how ravenously hungry he is. Maybe it’s been longer than he’d realized since his last meal.



She stands with her back to him, swaying back and forth as she absently stirs the pot. He can hear her humming, although he can’t place the song, and the sight of her in his kitchen is so domestic, is so close to his heart, that it’s like a physical punch in the gut.

He must make some kind of noise, hopefully not the distressed sound currently rattling around in his head, because she whirls around, hand pressed to her heart.

“Oh my god, Oliver, I didn’t hear you come out. Are you okay?” Her eyes are wide and concerned behind her glasses.

He schools his expression into one of mild interest. “Fine. What are you making?”

“Spaghetti, obviously. You know it’s the only thing I can cook without burning down the building. It’s almost ready, I think.”

He leans over to take a peek and she shivers as his chin hovers above her shoulder, their cheeks nearly touching. His chest brushes against her back, hands landing on either side of her hips. It’s closer than he usually allows himself, yet not close enough at the same time.

It’s not necessary at all but he can’t help it. He’s not even really paying attention to the pasta anyways, just enjoying being this close to her for a moment. She takes a deep breath, her chest expanding until it’s pressed against his, like she’s breathing in this little moment too.

Then she blinks furiously and takes a step away. “Yup. Yes. It’s done, let me get the strainer…” She moves quickly, shaking her head and he steps back, leaning against the counter and watching as she efficiently drains the pasta, stirs together the sauce, and spoons it into a bowl.

“Thanks,” he says, accepting the food and moving to sit on one of the kitchen stools. She sets the spoon down and wipes her hands without getting any for herself. “Aren’t you having any?”

She shakes her head. “No, I have plans. Dinner plans. Told you I didn’t have all night.”

His stomach drops but he forces his voice to remain normal, his face to stay neutral. “Oh. Like a date?”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip nervously. “This guy from work. Ray Palmer.”

Oliver knows all about Ray Palmer because Felicity has talked about him a bunch, about the projects he’s worked on, about how he’s intelligent and has really inventive ideas. And then Oliver may have looked him up online. Because he’s looking out for her. Because he’s a good friend. That’s all.

“Well don’t let me keep you,” he tells her, even though he’d like it if she stayed forever. “Thanks for coming to check on me. And for dinner.” He holds up a forkful of pasta in salute.

“Oh. Yeah, of course.” She smiles at him, although it looks kind of unsure, like she was hoping he'd say something else. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you starve?”

She gathers up her purse and coat, but pauses, jingling her keys in her hand instead of leaving. Shifting her weight back and forth, she looks almost… nervous?

“Is everything okay with you?” he asks, because he’s not sure what’s going on, but she seems a bit off. He hopes it’s not because he overstepped things in the kitchen.

“With me? Yeah, completely okay, why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, you’re acting weird.”

“Nope. Everything is good here. Great even.” Her voice is overly cheery. She smiles brightly at him, as though to convince him, but it falls a bit short. “I’ll see you later Oliver. Good luck with your deadline tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Felicity. I’ll call you when I’m done with this draft, okay?”

She nods, then jingles her keys one more time before turning to leave.

He watches her go, blonde ponytail swinging behind her, then sets his fork down in his bowl. Suddenly he’s not so hungry anymore.

XXX

Soon enough, he’s back in the game. He’s focused. It’s the denouement, and he needs to wrap up the last little strings that he’s left undone. This book has fought harder against him than any other and he's not sure why. But there’s only this one tiny bit left to puzzle through and he’s fairly sure that he can bulldoze through it, get something down on paper even if it isn’t his best work, and send it off to his agent by morning.

Just under the wire, he thinks. Although, technically the deadline is midnight. But who’s actually awake and at work at midnight to receive his draft?

No one, that’s who.

So he can squeak it in by the time his agent gets to work in the morning and even though the time stamp will give him away she’ll still have the work in her hands, so she can’t really be angry with him, can she?

His front door flies open with no warning and he leaps out of his seat, chair clattering to the ground behind him.

“Felicity?”

She flies through the doorway, a red blur with golden hair trailing behind her, and throws herself into his arms, folding herself completely around him.

“Felicity, what-?”

She responds, says something but her head is buried in his chest and her words are soft and muffled. She’s trembling, a fine tremor running through her body as his hand strokes over her back, the other banded tightly around her waist.

He has absolutely no idea what’s going on, but if she needs him, needs his support, his arms around her, then he’s going to give it to her. Even if he would like to hunt down whoever made her so upset. Ray Palmer’s face flashes in his mind and his hands pull her more securely against him, bodies pressed tightly together.

“Did something happen?” he asks after awhile. After they’ve been standing in the middle of his living room wrapped around each other, after her hands relax the desperate hold they’ve got on the fabric of his henley.

He feels her chest expand against him as she takes a deep breath, lets his hand trail along her back once more before taking ahold of her shoulders and gently pulling her away from him. He needs to know if there’s someone he needs to go and punch in the mouth.

“Hey. Talk to me.” He bends to meet her eyes because even in heels she’s still nearly a head shorter than him. “Your date…” He lets the words trail off when her eyes fill with tears. “Did someone hurt you?” His voice comes out rough and demanding but she immediately shakes her head in response.

“No! No, no, nothing like that…” Her voice is soft and she looks kind of embarrassed now, biting her lip and twisting her hands in front of her.

“Okay…” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s known Felicity for years, and she’s definitely the more emotional one out of the two of them, but she’s never been one for senseless dramatics. “So what’s going on?”

“Can we, um. Can we sit down?”

“Sure,” he says, leading her to the couch she’d cleaned off not three hours ago with a gentle hand on her back. Once they’re seated, he waits. He can see thoughts running through her head as she figures out what she wants to say.

“I was on my date,” she starts, and he nods. He doesn’t really want to hear about her date but he’s a good friend and good friends listen even when they don’t particularly like the topic. “And it was great. Really, Ray is kind and smart and handsome and he knows how to eat lobster properly. I mean, who really knows how to properly eat those things?”

She pauses and he doesn’t interrupt. He especially doesn’t want to hear all about amazing Ray Palmer but she needs to get whatever it is that upset her off her chest.

“And then we’re ordering dessert and he smiles at me across the table and it just hit me.”

There’s a long pause, long enough for Oliver to get antsy because he doesn’t know where this is going. Something inside of him is panicking, desperately hoping that Felicity hasn’t decided that she loves Ray and rushed over here to give him this fabulous news. Ray is a successful businessman who has lots to offer Felicity, but Oliver is selfish.

He’d tried to ask her out a couple years ago, had stumbled partway through a dinner invitation like a nervous schoolgirl, and then in the middle of his pathetic attempt she’d gotten a call that her mom had been in an accident. He’d flown to Vegas with her the next day - one of the perks of being a writer with a flexible schedule - and their conversation was understandably forgotten. He’d spent hours with her as she’d dealt with doctors and medical jargon on her own and she’d said repeatedly how glad she was to have him as a friend, how she didn’t know how she’d have gotten through everything without him.

And something inside of him just knew that he didn’t want to mess this up. He couldn’t mess it up. He’s a writer who spends days at a time without any human contact and he’s proven to be terrible at relationships. Why would he risk it with the one person who’s the most important to him?

So he’d pushed his feelings away, sure that she didn’t feel the same anyways, and had thrown himself headlong into writing, determined to just be her friend. Friends lasted longer than girlfriends anyways.

And if there was that one night at his book release party when they’d toed the line between friendship and more, well she’d never brought it up again and so neither had he. She clearly wanted to forget it. He’d boxed it away in his Felicity box, sealed it up tight, never to be opened again.

“Oliver, I don’t want Ray. I don’t want anyone.”

She turns to him, eyes bright behind her glasses. There’s a shy smile playing around her mouth, like she’s telling him something without actually saying it.

He watches her cautiously, confused. What is she trying to say? “You… Don’t want anyone? Felicity, what do you mean?”

“Ugh, of course,” she says, a frustrated breath escaping. Her eyes roll towards the sky. “I’m saying this all wrong.”

Then she throws herself at him, arms snaking around his neck, body pressed against his and images of that night, that one night, assault his senses. He’s surrounded by Felicity. She’s all he can smell, see, breathe. All he can taste as she presses her lips against his, tongue tracing the seam of his lips.

She tastes like mint and red wine and it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. He sucks in a breath as she settles onto his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. He tangles her tongue with his own and she lets out a breathy little sigh, melting against him. His arms come up to wrap around her, fingers diving into the hair at the nape of her neck as she sucks his lower lip into her mouth. She grazes him with her teeth and he inadvertently lets out a groan before capturing her lips again.

He’s completely focused on this, on her, but then thoughts snake their way into his head, whispering at him in nasty little voices. Is this actually happening? Is she drunk again? Is this another moment between them that will never be spoken of again?

Abruptly pulling back, he takes a deep breath, meeting her slightly glazed eyes. Her lips are swollen, traces of beard burn trail across her chin.


“Felicity-”

“I want you, Oliver,” she interrupts and his heart thuds in response. “No one else. Just you.”

She’s confident, eyes meeting his, clear and sure. In fact, she looks insanely happy, grinning at him. He doesn’t say anything right away, eyes intent on hers, trying to make sure she’s serious, that she means it. That he’s not dreaming.

Her grin slowly fades as the silence extends. “Oliver…?” She presses her lips together and nods shortly, eyes growing bright and shiny as she untangles her arms from around his neck. “Right, okay.”

He doesn’t loosen his arms though, holding tight even when she wriggles determinedly to get away.

“Let me go, Oliver,” she sighs, not meeting his eyes.

He doesn’t. “Do you mean it?” His voice is soft, uncertain, because this is his dream coming true and it feels as fragile as spun glass. “Felicity?”

She swallows and he watches her throat work before trailing his eyes up to her face. She looks nervous again. “Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, okay?”

“What does that even mean?” She frowns at him, eyebrows furrowing behind her glasses.

He pulls her back to him, sloping his mouth across hers. She responds enthusiastically and this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. A tiny growl escapes him when she traces the roof of his mouth with her tongue. He flips them, covering her body with his and pressing her back into the couch, lowering himself on top of her. She moans, the sound shooting heat straight to his groin, and he takes advantage of the pale slope of her neck, trailing kisses from her ear down to her shoulder, bared by the tiny strap of her top. He kisses all the way back to her ear, drawing it between his teeth, before firmly kissing her one more time and drawing away.

He’s breathless and she is too and they just stare at each other, blue eyes on blue, lost in this moment together.

He doesn’t look away when he says, “It means that I want you too.”

Her mouth parts, lipstick smudged from his lips and the sight fills him with pleasure. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?

“It’s more than okay.”

“Good.”

XXX

He remembers at the last moment to send his draft in, finishing the last few pages with Felicity curled up naked in bed beside him and sending it to his agent just under the wire. Then he sets the computer aside and draws her closer, one arm around her back and legs tangled together. She lets out a snuffly little sigh, burying her nose into his bare chest. A radiant feeling blooms in his chest as he lets out a breath, closing his eyes against the early morning sunshine shining in his window.

Time to live in the real world for awhile.

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of the night, his hands are covered in flour, and he’s surrounded by various sweet and savoury creations.

Oliver stands at the counter in the shared kitchen, mind running endlessly, his thoughts spiralling. Again. It’s the fourth night in a row. Maybe the fifth. They’re all starting to blend together. Is that a bad sign? Probably. Stepping back, he surveys his surroundings, hands on his hips.

Nah. Can’t be a bad thing, he reasons, shaking his head. His creations, the plates of baked goods he’s been leaving out every night, have disappeared like hotcakes. No pun intended. Clearly none of his building mates are complaining that he’s feeding them delicious snacks during finals.

He currently has two recipes on the go (not a big deal, last night there’d been four) and the kitchen is blessedly silent (good for concentration, bad for his overactive brain). Of course, it is nearly one AM, but this is a college dorm and college students are not known for their early nights. However, it’s mid finals week, which is crunch time for most, and while Oliver had expected more activity down here, it’s likely busier at the library.

The timer on the stove dings, signalling that his muffins are done. It’s a new recipe, one that calls for precision and focus, something that comes easily to him in the kitchen but he struggles with when it comes to books and papers.

Bending, Oliver opens the oven door with a whoosh and the delicious aroma of banana and coconut surrounds him. He eyes the trays, checking for inconsistencies, but they’re evenly brown and seem have risen to the appropriate size.

He’s just reached a gloved hand in and grasped the tray when there’s a squeaking sound behind him.

He whirls around, muffins in hand, expecting… Well he’s not sure what he expected. A mouse?

It’s not a mouse. A tiny blonde girl has appeared in the doorway, one hand pressed against her chest and mouth hanging open. Her eyes are completely focused on him. In fact, he’s fairly sure she’d been staring at his ass, if her line of sight and the faint blush staining her cheeks are any indication.

His heart thumps erratically in his chest, performing some kind of gymnastics routine.

Because she startled him.

Obviously. That’s all.

“Uh… hi?” he says, because she’s still staring in the direction of his ass, but now that he’s turned it’s not his ass her eyes are attached to anymore.

Her eyes immediately snap to his and he’s struck by the colour. Bright blue and framed by dark rectangular glasses that have slipped down her nose. She absently pushes them back up with a finger without taking her eyes off of him, lips pressing together in a thin line.

Then she shakes her head slightly and a bright smile blooms on her face. “It’s you!”

“What?” Oliver stares blankly at her, still holding the tray of hot muffins in one hand. He’s fairly sure that they’re never met before, that if they had, he would remember her. She clearly lives in his building, because she’s dressed in PJs — pants patterned with blue phone boxes, a giant MIT sweatshirt that’s seen better days, and slippers adorned with giant panda heads — but so do over a hundred other students.

She’s also not the type of girl that he usually goes for, but there’s just something about her that makes him smile back at her.

“It’s you,” she repeats. “You’re the ethereal being responsible for all the food magically appearing in the common room. I’ve been coming down here every night because I’m totally a stress eater and then I discovered that someone was leaving delicious baked goods that were free for the taking — which by the way, so good. You are supremely talented but absolutely not what I was expecting, when I pictured the person who was spending their nights down here, what with the muscles and all the, you know.”

She waves a hand in his general direction, as though she can’t express in words what she’s thinking. Then her mouth opens and she’s barreling on before he can even form a response.

“Not that men can’t bake! I'm completely all for doing whatever you have a calling for. I mean, I’m studying Computer Sciences and Cyber Security, which is typically a male dominated field and so I support breaking barriers and whoa, I did not mean to imply that you were gay! Unless you are. Which is awesome. I mean sad, because all the hot guys are always taken or gay and- Oh my God. I am going to stop talking. Right. Now.”

She presses her lips together and closes her eyes for a moment. Oliver watches her, not sure what just happened. His brain works overtime to sort through what she just said.

Does this girl think he’s gay?

“I am so sorry,” she says, blinking her eyes open and finding his. “My brain to mouth filter is terrible on a normal day and it’s even worse when I don’t sleep, and finals have been stressing me out this week so…”

“I’m not gay,” Oliver responds.

“Oh… kay.” She nods, lips quirking into a tiny smile.

“I mean, I understand.” Her brows furrow slightly as he gestures to the mess of baking supplies littering the counter that he hasn’t cleaned up yet. Then he realizes that he’s gesturing with a tin full of muffins and immediately drops it onto the stovetop with a clatter. “The whole stress eating thing, I mean. When I’m stressed, I bake. It helps me calm down. Helps me focus. I need all the help I can get,” he adds in an undertone.

“Well, I’ve definitely appreciated the product,” she says brightly, grabbing one of the few cookies that remain on a plate from yesterday. “These are amazing. I may have eaten most of them already, but one more isn’t going to hurt.”

She takes a bite and lets out a moan that sends blood rushing south, despite the fact that he doesn’t even know her name.

“And the tenth one is still just as amazing at the first,” she says in a dreamy voice, once she’s chewed and swallowed. “Oh, and I’m Felicity,” she adds, seeming to read his mind.

“Oliver.”

Her smile grows wider, front two teeth slightly longer than the rest. Her eyes run over him as she takes another bite and chews slowly. He watches her evenly, wondering what’s going on in her head. And then she’s suddenly bent over in peals of laughter.

Is she laughing at him?

“Wait,” she gasps. “You’re Oliver Queen.”

Oliver bristles. “Yes.”

“Oh my God. You totally dated my freshman roommate. Evelyn?”

He must stare blankly at her because she launches into a description of a girl that he has no memory of. Which is embarrassing because he’s not that person anymore and he desperately doesn’t want Felicity to think that he is.

Why he cares so much about her opinion is something that he doesn’t want to examine too closely right now.

His freshman year is pretty much a blur. He’d been overexcited to be away from his parents’ rules and in an environment where everyone was looking to have a good time. Classes and grades had come second to parties and girls.

Looking back on it now, he wishes he’d made some different choices, because while it had been fun and exciting at the time, the drinking and drugs and sexcapades had eventually gotten tiring and had ultimately led him here, where he’s being pressured by his parents to live up to the very high expectations they have for him.

In his life Oliver has had very little to stress over, but it seems to have all been saved up for now, the end of senior year, where his parents and his profs even his friends have him worried about what comes next. He’s finally on track to graduate, which is an accomplishment in itself, but the pressure he’s still feeling has left him tired and gritty and on the path to becoming a professional baker.

It’s also kind of embarrassing to have this strange girl laughing at you because she’s heard some ridiculous stories about him.

Half of him can’t wait to get out of this school, to be done and escape from it’s constraints.

The other half is terrified of life in the real world.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Felicity straightens up and takes off her glasses to wipe at her eyes. “It’s really not nice to laugh at people,” she says, slipping her glasses back on. “And it’s not even a funny story, I swear. I’m just so overtired from this damn group project that anything is funny.” She frowns and stuffs another cookie into her mouth.

“I don’t remember your roommate,” Oliver finds himself saying.

Felicity shrugs. “It’s all right. We aren’t really friends anymore anyways. Kind of a friendship of convenience, if you know what I mean? She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Freshman year I was… not at my best.”

It’s a understatement, but it’s true. Oliver had been a wild child in high school, and once let loose on a college campus he’d slipped further down that slippery slope until one day he’d found himself so far away from the person he wanted to be that he’d forced himself to turn it all around.

“None of us were,” Felicity replies, furrowing her brows as she hops onto one of the black plastic stools. “Freshman year is when everybody runs around acting like an idiot because it’s the first time they’ve been left completely on their own.”

Oliver glances over at the timer, counting down his second recipe. Still five minutes left. He settles onto the stool across the counter from Felicity. She seems like a pretty smart person, like she’s got her head on straight. He wonders what her freshman year was like.

“What dumb things did you do in freshman year?”

“Me? I’ve been alone since I was a kid.” Her eyes widen as she realizes how that sounds and she rushes to explain. “Not alone, alone. I know they sound the same but they mean something different. I have a family. My mom. But she worked crazy hours to put food on the table so I spent lots of time by myself. And, you know, not many kids are interested in building computers or writing code, so there was that too. I’m not some sort of weirdo, I swear.”

He can’t help but laugh. He knew she was smart.

She drops her head onto her folded arms with a loud sigh. He hears her muttering to herself but he can’t make out what she’s saying. She pops her head up after a moment and settles her gaze on him, eyes narrowed.

“Hey. No laughing buddy. I heard plenty about your freshman escapades and I’m assuming you don’t want to go there either.”

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Literally.

The timer on the stove goes off and he jumps up to check on the pie he spent hours on. It’s the first one that he thinks is going to actually turn out, thanks to some research on crusts and his good friend Martha Stewart. Felicity is silent behind him as he works, inserting a thermometer into the middle, inspecting the crust, rolling a top to cover the filling. He can feel her eyes on him like a brand on his back.

He slides the pie back into the oven, resets the timer and adjusts the temperature, then settles back onto the stool. Felicity’s got her chin resting in her hand, gazing in his direction but looking like she’s somewhere else. She’s knocked out of her thoughts when he sits down and she refocuses her attention on him.

“So,” she says. “What exactly are you stressing out about? I mean, it’s clearly none of my business but if you can’t confide in a random stranger at 1am in the shared kitchen of your college residence, who can you tell, really?”

He wants to tell her that she’s not a stranger, but instead he finds himself opening his mouth and confessing everything that’s been bouncing around his head. About his grades and his struggle to pass certain classes and how he can’t seem to remember anything important once he’s faced with a blank exam paper. About his mom and her insistence that he set a good example for Thea and remain a model son, one she can brag about to the ladies at lunch. About his dad and the pressure he’s putting on Oliver to follow his example and how he expects his son to take over the family business once he graduates next month.

Felicity listens attentively. She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t outwardly react as he releases the weights that have been resting on his shoulders. He feels lighter once he’s done, but waits in an uneasy silence for her reaction. She probably thinks his problems are stupid.

“Oliver,” she says, eyes wide and serious and completely focused on him. “I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through. But you’ve obviously worked hard to get to where you are. You’re not the same person that you were. You’re determined, and focused, and you clearly care about your family and what they think. But this is your life. It’s yours. And you get to decide what to do with it.”

It’s not a new concept, not really. But for some reason, coming from Felicity, this girl that he’s basically just met, it’s groundbreaking.

“What do you want to do?” she asks him, and it makes him pause.

“I… I don’t know.”

He feels stupid saying it out loud, but Felicity doesn’t act like it’s stupid.

“Which is completely normal. Most people don’t have multi-million dollar companies waiting for their leadership once they graduate, Oliver. Most people who graduate college are in the same place you are. Graduating with a degree in something that’s not specialized, with no idea about how they’re going to fit into the real world.”

“And what about you? Are you one of those confused people too?”

She bites her lip. “I know what I want to do, but it’s a long road to get there,” is all she says.

Oliver wants to know more, but there’s a loud banging from the hallway, followed by drunken voices, singing loudly and off-key. They don’t come in, bypassing the kitchen to head upstairs, but the mood is broken and Felicity hops off her stool.

“Anyways, I should get back to work. I have this massive group project and my group is full of idiots, so I’ve been stuck fixing everyone’s parts so that they actually cohesively make sense.”

Oliver nods and the timer for his pie goes off behind him. “I’ve gotta get that,” he replies, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Thanks again for the snacks, Oliver.” Felicity flashes a grin at him, grabs a muffin, and then hesitates before snatching another cookie and turning to go.

Oliver turns to the oven, quickly silencing the timer and opening the door, lost in thought.

He feels more settled than he has in a long time. For some reason, talking to this beautiful girl, who knows little to nothing about him — freshman roommate stories aside — has given him a clearer view of his thoughts and opinions on what to do after graduation than any of his family, friends, or the multiple career counsellors he’s visited.

So why is he just letting her walk away and out of his life?

“Felicity! Wa-” Oliver abruptly drops the pan in his hand, pie be damned, and turns to the doorway. Felicity’s standing there with her back to him, like she tried to leave but couldn’t make herself go any farther, hesitation clear in the set of her spine.

“Uh… Yes?” She turns around to face him, biting her lip. Which is adorable. He never knew that such a simple thing could be such a turn on.

“I thought you had work to finish?” he teases, grinning at her. He thinks that he’s smiled more in this one conversation than he has in weeks.

“I do! I do. But, um… I was actually wondering…” She lets the words trail off and Oliver feels a ridiculous surge of anticipation as he waits for her to continue. Her lips quirk as their eyes meet and he can’t make himself look away. The waiting goes on and on and they stand there, grinning at each other like idiots.

And then-

“Do you want to maybe get some dinner?”

She says it so fast that he has to work through it for a moment in his head. Once he separates the sounds into distinguishable words, she’s already shaking her head and muttering something to herself, a frown marring her face.

“As friends,” she quickly adds, eyes wide and cheeks turning red. Her voice sounds extremely perky and somehow he can tell that it’s completely fake. Her fingers knot in front of her and the muffin gets smushed by her nervous fingers. “Friends, of course, that’s what I meant, just two friends getting some food. Although we did just meet, does that make us acquaintances?”

“I would love to go to dinner with you, Felicity,” he responds and truer words have never been spoken. “As friends. Or more. Like a date. A date date. If you want of course. The implications with dinner being…”

Fuck. What is he saying? And why can’t he stop?

Her mouth falls opens in shock, before she snaps it shut and nods rapidly. “Yes. Yep, yes that sounds like a plan. A great plan, one I am behind one hundred percent. I would love to. Although I think I may be rubbing off on you- My babbling! Not rubbing on you any other way, oh my god…”

She closes her eyes and tips her head back before whirling to face away from him. “I need to leave now. Before I embarrass myself any further and you change your mind,” she adds in a low voice.

He follows her swinging ponytail with his eyes until he realizes that she’s actually leaving and he doesn’t have her phone number or email or room number or anything besides the fact that she enjoys eating his baked goods and will likely return for more.

“Hang on, Felicity, wait!”

She stops and turns, avoiding his eyes, and he curses under his breath, quickly fiddling around with the cookies left on the plate before crossing the room and shoving one into her hand.

“Oliver, what-?” Peering at the cookie in her hand, she makes out a series of numbers and her face brightens in mirth. “Is this your phone number? Did you just write your number on this cookie in green icing and give it to me?”

He shrugs. It sounds kind of stupid when she says it out loud like that.

“You know, you could have just looked me up in the school directory. Or on Facebook.” Her voice is soft and teasing and god, he wants to hear more of it.

“I’m not big on technology,” he responds, shifting uncomfortably.

She regards him for a moment, flush slowly disappearing from her cheeks as her lips curve into a smile. Then she flashes her teeth, opens her mouth and takes a giant bite out of the cookie.

“I’ll text you,” she calls as she chews, and then she turns and bounces down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Oliver feeling kind of like he was just sucked into and spit out of a tornado.

Letting out a deep breath, he turns and gets back to his task, because the muffins need to cool and the pie needs a sprinkling of sugar on top. When his phone buzzes not ten minutes later, a smile breaks out on his face.

He dusts off his hands and picks it up to respond, stress draining from his shoulders and grinning stupidly at the screen as he reads her message.

Somehow Felicity, and her bouncy ponytail and her sparkling eyes and her bright personality, is infinitely better for his stress than baking.

Chapter Text

It’s the moose that does it.

Well…

The moose on the hat, that is. Her hat.

He has many memories of that stupid hat, things that he definitely doesn’t think about anymore, but the mere fact that she’s wearing that ridiculous thing means that she’s upset.

They’ve been broken up for months now, and while most normal couples break up and then spend the requisite time apart, he and Felicity seem to have more mutual friends than any other couple he knows, and at the time, neither of them had been willing to give any of them up in the split. Thea had, in fact, told him loudly that if he tried to stop her from seeing Felicity she’d never speak to him again.


So they’ve seen each other since they broke up more often than he wishes, because the breakup hadn’t been his idea at all and it fucking hurts being close to her without being with her, but he isn’t giving up his social life, and neither is she.

It still makes his heart pound when he catches her smiling at someone, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. She doesn’t smile at him, mostly because he avoids actually interacting with her as much as possible without making things horribly awkward for everyone. But his traitorous heart pounds anyways, because he honestly just wants her to be happy and she is, he thinks. He wants the best for her, and if she’s decided that that isn’t him, than he’s not going to force her. It’s definitely not because he still has feelings for her.

Today she looks anything but happy. The moose hat and it’s negative connotations aside, her eyes are red, her skin blotchy, and she’s clearly been crying. He’s known Felicity for years and he can tell when she’s upset even without a stupid hat. She’s never liked to talk about her problems though, which he knows from experience. If he asked before, she’d brush him off, tell him that she was dealing with it. Now, she definitely wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. She’d probably give him that ‘are you joking me’ look because she still insists that it’s too soon to be friends again.

Oliver raises his bottle to his lips and takes a swig, letting his eyes roam around the room so it’s not stupidly obvious that he’s staring at Felicity where she’s curled up into the arm of the couch in a grey oversized MIT sweatshirt that has seen better days and a pair of leggings. Her hair’s been scraped into a ponytail, but it’s all wispy around her face underneath the hat. It’s normally a look that he enjoys, because it means she’s relaxed, but today it means she’s so upset that she couldn’t even be bothered to smooth back her generally perfectly smooth ponytail.

She sniffles again and Lyla, who’s sitting next to her, purses her lips and pats her arm. She says something, to which Felicity morosely shakes her head, and then Lyla gets up and heads towards Oliver.

“Stop staring,” Lyla mutters, reaching past him to grab a beer from the cooler on the counter. “You are so obvious.”

“I’m not staring.” Oliver jerks his attention to Lyla and crosses his arms over his chest.

Lyla raises her eyebrows at him disbelievingly. “Sure.”

“Lyla, Felicity and I are over. Have been for months. I’m good with it. It’s okay,” he says. He’s said it a hundred times, and each time he hopes that it will be a little more true.

Diggle joins them before Lyla gets a chance to respond.

“What is Felicity wearing?” he asks, eyebrows crawling towards his hairline.

“It’s her Sad Moose Hat.”

“Excuse me?” Lyla and Dig give him confused looks. They may not be married yet, but their identical reactions are spot on.

“Her Sad Moose— look. Never mind. It’s just this hat she wears sometimes.”

“But the antlers, man…” Dig can’t seem to drag his eyes away and Felicity doesn’t seem to notice. She bites her bottom lip and plays with the hem of her shirt, lost in thought.

“Dinner’s ready!” Iris calls from the kitchen, saving him from having to explain any more about Felicity and the stupid hat. He may have been friends with Diggle and Lyla first, but they both also love Felicity to pieces. He doesn’t blame them, but he also doesn’t want to hear any more shit from either of them about not being over Felicity yet.

Yes, it’s been months. Yes, the breakup hadn’t been his idea. Yes, he’d loved her more than he knew it was possible to love another person. And yes, he had seen a future of blonde, glasses-wearing genius babies.

But he’s moved on.

Okay, he’s only been on that one disastrous date with the redhead that works with Caitlin, but clearly that shows that he’s moving on.

Dig and Lyla head to Iris and Barry’s dining room, and Oliver moves to follow them, but notices that Felicity hasn’t budged. With her head tipped down and the hat tucked over her ears, it’s hard to make out her expression. She seems to be staring into the empty space in front of her, unaware of her surroundings. When Felicity gets lost in her head it can take a lot to bring her out of it.

Should he let her know that dinner is ready? They don’t talk all the time, but it’s not like they completely avoid each other since their group of friends gets together weekly, if not more often. It would be ridiculously awkward for everyone if they weren’t speaking, but Felicity doesn’t go out of her way to make conversation with him and Oliver’s been following her lead.

Letting her know that dinner’s ready is a friendly thing to do, he tells himself. She’s probably hungry and maybe the conversation will help to cheer her up and get her mind off of whatever she’s upset about.

Before he can take more than a couple steps into the room, Caitlin swoops in and wraps an arm around Felicity’s shoulder. Felicity jumps, startled, but then throws a grin at her friend that convinces anybody but him. She’s just pasting it on to pacify Caitlin.

The girls stand and Oliver trails after them into the dining room.

“I’m fine, Cait,” he hears Felicity say softly. “I promise.”

Caitlin fixed her with a pointed look. “And you’d tell me if you weren’t?”

“Yes,” Felicity snaps. “Now can we eat?” She stalks to a seat between Barry and Thea, leaving Caitlin awkwardly hovering in the doorway.

Oliver doesn’t know whether to say anything or not, since he was technically eavesdropping and that’s not a good friend thing to do, but Caitlin turns and jumps in surprise.

“Oh! Oliver. I didn’t know you were there.” She shoots an uncertain glance in Felicity’s direction, but Felicity is busy staring miserably down at her empty plate. “Did you… You didn’t… Uh, never mind.” Caitlin darts away and Oliver wonders why everyone’s acting so strange today as he grabs a seat at the table.

Conversation flows easily between everyone, as usual. Their group of friends has grown over the years, as significant others and new acquaintances are added, but the core group have known each other since high school. Oliver, Tommy, Felicity and Caitlin met in freshman year. Dig had joined them the year after that. They’d mostly gone separate ways in college, where Caitlin had met Ronnie, Tommy had met Laurel, and Felicity had met Barry. Barry and Felicity had dated for a millisecond, before he got together with Iris, and Oliver and Felicity took the jump into a real relationship in their final year of school. Dig met Lyla at military school, and the group had invited Thea into the fold when she moved back to town after finishing two years of business school.

It’s a tight-knit group, with years of camaraderie built between them all, and it is completely obvious to Oliver, as dinner progresses, that Felicity is seriously upset. She is someone who puts on a mask when needed. She’ll hide the hurt or the pain behind a smile and break to pieces in private. But tonight she’s not hiding it well at all and it’s killing him to watch her silently pick at her food.

Lyla and Caitlin keep eyeing her. They’re close enough with Felicity that they know something’s wrong, but they aren’t about to bring it up at a table full of people. Giving what he heard between Caitlin and Felicity earlier, Felicity clearly doesn’t want to talk about what’s wrong at all.

After Sunday dinners most of them stick around for a drink or to play a game. If everyone’s in a good mood the group can usually agree on one, but sometimes there are two or three going so that they’re all happy. Tonight there’s a couple games going on, and Oliver’s gotten dragged into a cutthroat game of Uno with Thea, Dig, and Thea’s boyfriend, Roy.

It’s going pretty decently for a game that he isn’t particularly focused on, when he notices a blonde head smothered by a stupid hat slipping out the patio doors and into the night.

“Deal me out,” he says, standing and tossing his remaining cards down on the table.

“Ollie! Where are you going?” Thea’s voice trails after him, but he ignores her because he can’t stand it any longer.

It’s cool outside. The late October weather has been kind, but the nights are getting pretty chilly. Oliver shoves his hands into his pockets and glances around the yard for Felicity. He doesn’t see her at first, which makes his pulse leap unsteadily, but motion from the old porch swing catches his eye. Gravel crunches under his boots as he makes his way across the backyard path to the far corner where Barry and Iris have set up a little seating area. In the summer it’s lit with those new-but-made-to-look-old-fashioned strings of lights, and plants and chairs and stuff, but in late October it’s now just the old swing.

Just the swing, and Felicity curled up on one of the benches.

“Hey.”

Felicity glances up in surprise, eyes wide behind her glasses, and she must have been completely lost in her thoughts if she didn’t hear him trekking his way over here.

“Oh. Hi Oliver,” she says softly, her eyes darting up to his before falling to her lap.

He gestures to the opposite bench of the swing. “Mind if I sit?”

She minutely shakes her head. “Go ahead. Free country.”

He settles himself on the cool wood of the bench and lets silence reign for a few moments. Pushing his toes against the ground, the swing rocks back and forth in a gentle rhythm. The night is quiet, save for the creak of the wood and their breathing.

After awhile, he has to ask. “I couldn’t help but notice your choice of headwear tonight.”

Felicity fixes him with a cool glare. “Leave it alone.”

“That’s your Sad Moose Hat,” he says instead, not leaving it alone at all. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she says shortly. She presses her lips together as if to stem the flow of more words and avoids looking at him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?” She doesn’t respond, just slumps back on the bench and tips her head up to the sky. “Come on, Felicity. We may not be together anymore, but I’m still your friend. Friends talk about stuff. And I know you better than almost anyone and you only wear that hat when you’re upset about something. You barely ate any dinner, you didn’t even touch your wine…”

“Oliver!” Her voice is sharp and her eyes flash at him. She leans forward slightly, her feet dropping to the ground so she can brace her elbows on her knees. “Leave. It. Alone.”

“I can’t leave it alone, Felicity. I’ve never seen you like this. It’s literally killing me to see you so upset.” His voice softens at the end.

She deflates at that, letting out a big sigh and rolling her neck in a slow circle. It takes a few moments before she speaks again, and when she does the words completely shock him.

“My dad died yesterday.”

Oliver blinks in surprise and searches for words. “Your- What? Your dad? But he left when you were little.”

Felicity shrugs. “Yep. He left and found himself a new and improved family and I didn’t really care, until I did, and I found him and he died before I could even decide what to do about it.”

He’s stunned, because Felicity had always insisted that she didn’t need her father, that her mom was the best parent she could have ever asked for. Donna Smoak is a whirlwind of a woman, who works hard and loves fiercely, and Felicity is a product of those values and beliefs. He wonders what changed, what spurred on this search for the father that she never really cared to know.

“I just… I don’t even know why I’m so upset,” she huffs, her voice rough with emotion. “Honestly, I didn’t even know the man. He was basically a stranger. Just this shadow and a voice that I barely remember.”

Oliver swallows at the turmoil he hears in her voice. “He was your dad though, Felicity. It’s okay to be upset that he’s gone.”

He’s speaking from experience now, because his own father has been gone five years now, but the grief and hurt of that loss still swirls inside of him. They had never had a particularly good relationship and it had gone even more downhill in that final year. Oliver wasn’t the son that Robert had wanted him to be and he’d never been able to live up to the insurmountable expectations laid upon him.

Neither of his parents understood his choices. They couldn’t comprehend why he would choose to work in a low-paying job and live in an apartment with Tommy, instead of stepping into a management position at Queen Consolidated. But that life wasn’t meant for him. He didn’t want to be chained to a desk in a job he’d never enjoyed.

Oliver couldn’t understand why his father wouldn’t support him in finding his own path, and they’d lived with that tension between them for years. The last words they’d said to each other had been in anger and that’s something that he can’t ever take back.

Felicity responds, her voice bringing him back to the present. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. I don’t know what to feel right now. I just feel sad, like there was this opportunity, if I wanted it, to get some answers. To understand what was so wrong with me that he left us. But now I’ll never know.” A tear slips down her cheek and Oliver has to force himself to stay on his side of the swing instead of wiping it away.

“What did your mom say,” he asks instead. If he knows Donna Smoak, and he does after nearly a decade of friendship and a three year relationship with her daughter, she likely had a lot to say.

Felicity bites her lip and mumbles something that he can’t make out.

“What?”

“I didn’t tell her,” she repeats quietly.

“Felicity…” he groans because he loves her independence, he really does, but Felicity has always insisted on doing everything on her own. He can recall maybe one time where she asked for help without being coerced into it. One time. In more than ten years.

“I know,” she moans, scrubbing her hands over her face. She lets them fall back to her lap and meets his eyes. “I know, Oliver. I’ll tell her, I have to tell her, but I don’t want to upset her. What if she thinks that I’m abandoning her. That I think she’s not enough?”

Oliver scoots forward, leaning so that their knees are nearly touching. He lifts his chin so he’s looking directly at her. She blinks and glances away and he waits until she’s steadily meeting his gaze before speaking. “Your mom loves you. Unconditionally. She also knows you better than you know yourself. She’ll understand, Felicity. She will understand that you needed answers.”

“But I didn’t even get any, besides that he has a wife, who’s closer to my age than my mom’s, and two kids. I have siblings.” She laughs but it’s a pretty halfhearted attempt. “I have half siblings who I’ll never know because how do you introduce yourself to strangers who share part of your DNA? Hi, I’m Felicity. Your dad is also my dad, but he left my family because we weren’t enough for him. Sorry he died.”

Her lips twist and Oliver sighs. She’s clearly been holding all of this inside and he’s thankful that he came after her tonight. If nothing else, he is a great listener. They’ve always balanced each other out perfectly that way. Felicity talks, he listens. Felicity knows pop culture, he knows sports. He cooks, and she… Well no, she’s never really cleaned either. He cooked and cleaned and Felicity ate anything he put in front of her and taught him the ins and outs of good wine.

“Oliver?” Her voice is shaky and she leans forward, mirroring his stance, and it brings them within a breath of each other. Her throat works as she swallows and she raises glassy eyes to meet his. “What is so wrong with me that everyone leaves?”

She’s in his arms before he’s even fully thought it through, but he hauls her against his chest and she takes a great shuddering breath against him. He holds her tightly and it feels right, so right, for her to be in his arms again, but as the moment continues and she doesn’t move to hold him in return he wonders if he’s fucked everything up again.

“Felicity…” He lets her name trail off softly and before he can continue her arms snake around him to wrap tightly around his waist. She’s warm where her body presses against him but her fingers are cool through his shirt where they’re clenched against the skin of his lower back.

They stay there like that, wrapped tightly together under the stars, for a long time. Long enough that the tears on his shirt are nearly dry and her breathing has nearly calmed back to normal.

“Sorry,” she says quietly and tries to pull away without looking at him.

He loosens his hold, but he doesn’t remove his arms. She doesn’t either, and he looks down at her in concern. Her eyes are red and her skin is blotchy but she looks lighter, less burdened, than she did earlier tonight. She won’t meet his eyes, staring at the wet spot on his chest instead, but he needs to see her eyes, needs her to look at him so he can make her understand something very important.

“Hey. Look at me.” She doesn’t and he brings one arm to to cup her cheek in his hand. She lets the weight of her head rest there and he remembers hundreds of other times they’ve stood just like this. Her eyes eventually find his and he tries to convey a hundred emotions to her in one look. She is loved. She is worth it. She is everything.

“I didn’t leave you,” is what he says instead, and she sniffles, breaking eye contact and dropping her gaze back to his chest.

“Nope,” she says bitterly. “I pushed you away and now you’re forced to see me all the time because our friends are social butterflies who can’t go a week without insisting on getting together.”

He’s wanted to ask for months, needed to understand her motivations in a decision that seemed to come out of the blue, so he voices his thoughts. “Why did you push me away?”

Felicity takes a step back, putting some distance between them and Oliver lets her go, his arms dropping to his sides. She shifts uncertainly, clasping her hands in front of her body. “Oliver…”

He waits, shifting from one foot to the other as she takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud sigh.

“You just… You’re Oliver Queen. You’re destined for greatness. You’re going to do amazing things and eventually you would have realized that.”

“I don’t understand,” he says in a voice devoid of any emotion, because he’s not quite sure what she’s saying.

“Oliver, I’m nobody. In the grand scheme of things, I’m a tech developer for a small software company, I own a shitty car and you would have woken up one day and wondered what on earth you were doing in a one bedroom apartment in the Glades with me.”

“Felicity, are you kidding me? You were, you are, the best part of my life,” Oliver says because he may as well just get it all out there. “Those things don’t matter to me.”

“They matter a whole lot to your mother,” Felicity says quietly.

“Excuse me? My mother?”

Felicity bites her lip nervously.

“Explain,” Oliver demands. It feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something big, like this is a moment that will define a Before and an After.

“Well, I, uh, I may have run into your mother at QC,” Felicity starts uncertainly. “And she may have insinuated that you were going to be reconnecting with a woman named Helena, who she couldn’t say enough about. I’m pretty sure I could pick her out from a lineup and I’ve never even laid eyes on her,” she adds sarcastically. “And it just… She made me realize what a crazy match we made. I mean, it’s unthinkable right. You and me?”

Felicity lets out a laugh that’s anything but amused but Oliver can’t seem to make himself move.

His mind races over this new information. His mother? Helena? Well that certainly explains why his mom had insisted on hosting that exclusive dinner party just days after Felicity broke up with him, and why she’d forced him into showing Helena around the grounds. But what had she been thinking, even speaking to Felicity about Helena? He’s known the Bertinelli’s for ages and he can’t stand Helena’s snobby opinions and obsessive behaviour. His mother was more than clear on that, and she had no business insinuating that Felicity wasn’t good enough for him.

“Anyways, thanks for listening. I’ll see you inside.”

He hears her voice but he can’t seem to make himself move. His blood is boiling. Felicity dumped him because she thought she wasn’t good enough for him. Felicity. The girl who is literally sunshine personified, who doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, who’d helped to drag him out of the darkness he’d been embroiled in after his father’s death.

Shaking his head sharply, Oliver jerks himself out of his thoughts and jogs after the blonde. “Wait! Felicity, hang on a second.” He reaches out and wraps his hand gently around her wrist, bringing her to a stop in the middle of the lawn. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His voice sounds desperate even to his ears. Felicity blushes, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“You would’ve convinced me that I was wrong. That you weren’t going anywhere, ever. And I would have believed you because I love you. But everybody leaves and it’s better to be the one leaving than the one left behind.”

He knows that this is not just about them, or about him, but it’s her father, and Cooper, and a whole host of experiences that shaped her into the person that she is now. It’s a lifelong fear that is completely ingrained in her.

But she needs to understand one thing.

“I am not your father, Felicity,” he says roughly. “And I’m not Cooper. I’m still here, listening to you and trying to help you, even after you broke up with me. Doesn’t that tell you anything?” She raises teary eyes to his and Oliver stoops a little so that they’re closer together. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Felicity hesitates, her eyes darting side to side, teeth tugging at her lower lip. “I know that. I do, Oliver, I swear, but the way things work in here…” She gestures halfheartedly to her head. “It’s wild. It doesn’t make sense, but… I don’t know. I don’t know what to say right now.”

“That’s a new one,” he says, gently joking with her. He surprises a laugh out her that she quickly stifles.

“God, how can I be laughing now? My father is dead, I just told my ex-boyfriend that I ran away from our relationship because of his mother… I am a mess.” She runs her hands over her face before tugging on her hat. “I’m wearing a hat with a moose on it out in public. I can’t believe you’re even being seen talking to me.”

“Well, to be fair, we are in a fairly secluded suburban backyard,” Oliver responds dryly, the corner of his lip lifting, and Felicity rolls her eyes.

“But honestly, there’s no one I would rather be talking to,” he tells her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “I have never understood why you broke up with me. Not then. Not in the months that have passed. But it makes sense now, and I just wish you’d come and talked to me. Not so I could convince you that you were wrong,” he quickly adds. “But because we could have figured out a solution together. We could solve anything together.”

Oliver pauses, and Felicity gazes at him, and there’s something akin to wonder in her eyes, as though something she hadn’t even hoped for is suddenly within her grasp. There’s a long moment of silence and he’s nearly holding his breath in anticipation.

“Oliver, I—”

“Felicity!” Roy’s voice echoes across the backyard and Oliver has never wanted to strangle somebody more. “We’re leaving, do you still want a ride?”

Felicity doesn’t look away from him, can’t seem to tear their eyes apart, but she responds that she’ll be right in. Then she opens her mouth to continue. “Can we maybe… Would you like to… I mean— Uh, could we meet for coffee? Or something?”

“Like a date? A date-date,” he clarifies, carefully choosing his words, his mind drawn back to a sunny fall day three years ago, when their roles were reversed and he’d stumbled nervously through a similar question.

She narrows her eyes slightly at him, like she knows exactly what he’s doing, but her head gives a tiny nod. “Well, the implication is, with coffee that—”

“I love when you talk in sentence fragments,” Oliver interrupts. Felicity lips curve as she looks up at him and he grins down at her.

“Yo, Blondie! Let’s go! I gotta get to work or else my boss is going to give it me,” Roy shouts again.

“Roy!”

“Coming!”

They respond at the same time.

“I’m going to kill him,” Oliver adds.

“He just does it to get under your skin,” she reminds him.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to accidentally on purpose forget to throw a punch when we hit the gym tomorrow morning,” he says as they turn to go back into the house. “He shouldn’t talk about my little sister like that, even if she technically is his boss.”

Felicity lets out a little giggle and readjusts her hat as he opens the door for her. “Oliver Queen. Protector of the people,” she jokes.

“Just the people that matter,” he clarifies, and she slips past him. He shuts the door behind them and from the voices at the front of the house it sounds like everyone is gearing up to leave.

“Are you feeling better,” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

She stops and turns to face him. “Lighter,” she responds. “Definitely. Thank you for listening.”

“Always.” He pauses, then decides to go for it. “So… I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asks, not wanting to have this conversation in front of all their closest friends and family.

Felicity nods, and the moose on her hat bobs around. “I’d like that.”

She turns to head to the front door, but Oliver reaches out and plucks the hat from her head.

“Hey!” She raises her hands to her hair, attempting to smooth it back down. “That’s my hat.”

“It’s your sad hat. And I cheered you up, so you aren’t allowed to wear it anymore. This stupid moose makes me sad.”

“The moose is not stupid,” she hisses at him. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” he shoots back, which is cheesy as hell, but he doesn’t care. It’s not like there’s anyone here to overhear. Felicity blushes and smiles up at him again. She looks a hundred times happier and more at ease than she had earlier. He wants to kiss her, feels an uncontrollable urge to wrap her up in his arms and press his lips to hers, but he forces himself to hold off.

Coffee. They’re having coffee and it’s a huge step and nothing is going to mess it up this time.

“Awwwww, Ollie!”

He whips around to find his sister leaning against the door to the hallway, blatantly eavesdropping on their conversation. “Thea!” he growls, narrowing his eyes at her.



“I knew you guys would work things out,” Thea grins, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Totally won that one.”

“Won what?” Oliver asks sharply.

Thea’s eyes widen to saucers. “What? Won? Nothing. Nothing! Time to go Felicity!” She lunges forward and grabs Felicity’s arm, dragging her along to the front door.

Felicity looks at him over her shoulder as she goes. “Talk to you tomorrow!”

He grins at her until she’s turned the corner and then looks down to the hat that’s still in his hands.

Diggle sidles up beside him, arms crossed over his chest.

“So, you and Felicity again, huh?”

Apparently their talk was the most interesting thing at dinner tonight and he has a bunch of nosy friends who can’t mind their own business. But he can’t seem to muster up any anger. Not yet anyways. There’s a part of him that knows that he’ll need to have words with his mother, with Felicity, that can’t believe that Felicity hadn’t simply talked to him all those months ago. There’s some anger there, for sure.

But another part of him is just so proud that he got her to open up to him, to really talk to him. That she felt, even with their breakup, that she could confide in him about her issues with abandonment and her father. The fact that she’d let him help her with her problems is a huge step.

“Yep,” he says to Diggle, mirroring his pose and crossing his arms over his own chest, staring in the direction she’d gone. “Me and Felicity.”

Chapter Text

“Mmmph. Felicity, what? Again? Really?”

Oliver blinks sleepily, craning his neck to look down at her. His voice is rough, but she doesn’t answer, just snuggles into his body, her arms squeezing him tightly. All he can see is a cloud of blond hair and her ice cold toes press against the bare skin of his shins.

“What was it this time?” he sighs, resigning himself to another night with the two of the crammed into his single bed. He reaches over her to flick on the lamp beside the bed, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow.

It’s not the worst thing, because a small (okay - not so small) part of him does enjoy his roommate’s tiny body curled up beside his, but he’s told her a hundred times that if she can’t handle them, don’t read them. And she obviously never listens to him because Felicity Smoak is Her Own Person and doesn’t need Oliver Queen telling her what to do.

“Clowns,” she whispers against his chest. She shivers and he slings an arm across her, holding her snugly against him. “I hate clowns so much, Oliver.”

He doesn’t respond, holding back the laugh that’s forming in his chest. “Oh?”

“They’re so creepy, with those painted faces and the giant smiles. What are they so happy about? And the eyes. Their eyes are these dead, soul-sucking pits of doom. Doom. And then they start carrying around weapons and looming in dark corners with sinister smiles. They’re all over the news, lurking around neighbourhoods and obviously freaking people out. It’s not even like clowns don’t really exist. They’re real. And why do they never talk?”

Apparently now that’s she’s started, she’s not going to shut up. And the last thing he wants to fall asleep with is images of sketchy-ass clowns dancing in his head.

“Ugh, stop.” He tips his chin so he can see her face. “Felicity, how many times have I told you not to read this shit if you can’t handle it?”

She pokes him sharply in the chest, eyes narrowed. “I can totally handle it, mister.”

He draws back further to give her a disbelieving look.

“Okay,” she relents. “So this time, maybe I couldn’t-”

“This time?” he responds, raising an eyebrow. “This is not the only time you’ve snuck in here because you scared yourself.”

“But the clowns, Oliver…”

“No. No more clowns!” he shouts. “No more. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Are you afraid of clowns?”

“Definitely not,” he immediately retorts, refusing to let images of those face-painted weirdos come to mind. As if he, Oliver Queen, would be afraid of a children’s birthday party gimmick.

Felicity looks up at him through narrowed eyes, sizing him up for a moment before opening her mouth. “You are! You are totally afraid of clowns. Ha! I knew I’d find something that freaked you out if I read enough horror stories!” Her face brightens and she shoves away from him, as though the idea of Oliver being afraid of something is enough to chase away her own fears.

Oliver pushes himself into a seated position against the headboard and raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been reading these books and scaring yourself so badly that you can’t even sleep alone just to find something that I find creepy? Felicity, you need to get a hobby.”



“I have many hobbies,” she exclaims, affronted. “But ever since you insisted that you aren’t afraid of anything, I knew you were wrong. Everyone is afraid of something and you are no exception!” She crows to herself, grinning up at him proudly.

He can’t believe that she’s dedicated nearly a month of scaring herself shitless, just to crawl into his bed and whisper all of the creepy things that she read in hopes that something will stick with him. That is true dedication to what is a completely ridiculous goal, even for Felicity. And she had once dedicated herself to singing Maroon 5 at every karaoke bar in the city.

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not afraid of clowns.”

She pouts. “Come on. You so are. Everyone is. They are creepy as shit, especially when they just lurk silently, and they grin all sinister-like, and then they slowly tilt their head…”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Not afraid.”

Felicity leaps out of bed so suddenly that he barely sees her move. He watches as she takes off out of the room and down the hallway, calling over her shoulder. “Wait there. Shout if you see anything with way too much face paint.”

He huffs out a laugh. Felicity’s mind moves faster than anybody he knows. Her actual body usually isn’t as fast, but she’s back before he knows it. He suspects that she ran the entire way, if the way she’s panting as she gets back into his bed is any indication. Drawing the comforter up over herself, she settles in and then places her laptop on top.

“I’m going to show you a movie that is so fracking creepy you won’t be able to deny that clowns are scary,” she declares. “The ones in the story I read were pretty terrifying, but this is worse. I promise.”

The laptop whirs to life and she gets started typing. He relaxes and lets his head rest on the headboard, stretching his legs out in front of him as he watches his roommate work. It’s after midnight and he’s tired, but she seems to have an unlimited supply of energy some days. He’s often envious of the way she bounces through life, like a literal bouncy ball of sunshine.

She also tends to get so focused on what she’s doing that she sometimes doesn’t even remember that he’s there.

After what feels like a ridiculously long time, he’s getting antsy waiting for this so-called terrifying movie. He wonders if her nerves are still haywire after she scared herself silly in her own room. He drills a finger into her side and she lets out a bloodcurdling screech loud enough to wake the dead.

“OLIVER!” She whips her head around to glare at him, her chest pounding and her laptop cradled in her arms like precious cargo. “What the hell?”

“I’m bored, Felicity. Where is this ‘terrifying’ movie you’re insisting on showing me?” He smirks at her as she licks her lips and takes a deep breath.

“Scaring me is not cool, buddy,” she tells him wagging a finger in his face. “That is subpar best friend behaviour.”

He shrugs, though he’s not sorry at all. The sound she’d made had absolutely been worth it.

Returning to the computer, she clicks a couple more times. “All right, ready.”

She settles the laptop at the end of the bed and turns off the light, then returns to snuggle into his side, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It’s a normal thing for them when they watch movies, but it makes his heart race. Lately he can’t seem to be near Felicity without feeling like a teenage boy trying to talk to his first crush. Luckily, she hasn’t seemed to notice.

They move through a commercial that he doesn’t care about. Turning his attention to the blonde at his side, he can barely see her in the dim lighting. She is studiously focused on the video playing, her face relaxed, her breathing slow and steady. His gaze lingers a bit longer than acceptable. She must feel it because she tells him to pay attention in a sassy voice and he reluctantly refocuses on the screen.

It’s already started and he’s apparently missed the title credits. He doesn’t even know what this movie is called. They lie there as shaky video footage takes them all over a seemingly normal town, with seemingly normal people doing seemingly normal things. He keeps expecting something to jump out every time the music crests, but every time nothing happens. Oliver may like to claim that he’s not afraid of anything, but this is kind of creeping the shit out of him. The too-perfect movie town and the doom and gloom background music and the shaky footage are driving his nerves to the edge.

Felicity hasn’t said anything but he can hear her breathing pick up every time the music builds and he anticipates something frightening happening. His heart does the same thing but he refuses to give in and act on it. Something brushes against his hand and he nearly jumps out of his skin before realizing that it’s just Felicity’s fingers tangling with his own. He returns the pressure without a thought.

Friends totally hold hands. Right?

The camera pans across a suburban neighbourhood where perfectly dressed children play on perfectly manicured lawns and Oliver gulps as someone dressed as a clown stands frozen at the edge of the shot. No one else in the film seems to notice, and the scene goes on for long enough that he’s biting the inside of his cheek in anticipation.

How is no one seeing this? It’s fucking creepy. Where did Felicity even get this thing?

The scene cuts suddenly, jarring him, and Felicity lets out a huge breath.

“Want to stop?” he asks softly.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Good part’s coming up.”

“You’ve seen this before?”

She doesn’t answer, but points emphatically back at the screen with her free hand. He turns back in time to catch the camera pan across an empty child’s bedroom. It gives him the chills, although there’s no logical reason for it to do so. The view pulls back to show the whole room, when that same clown pops up to fill the screen, for absolutely no reason.

“Fuck!”

“Ahhh!”

They both jump and then look at the other. Felicity’s eyes are wide behind her glasses and her hair is all messy. His heart pounds erratically in his chest.

“Felicity, what is this shit?” he asks, pausing the movie before any more creepy clown nonsense plays. “Where on earth did you find this?”

She bites her lip, shifting until she’s sitting cross-legged beside him. “Are you ready to admit that clowns are scary?”

“Uh, no. Not scary. Weird, yes. That whole video is the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

She groans. “Ugh, you are so stubborn. We’re watching the rest.” Restarting the video, she returns to lay beside him, arms crossed over her chest. “You are gonna be scared. Just you wait.”

It continues on, as creepy as before, with that same white-faced clown appearing at the most inopportune times. It’s always silent, moving slowly, lurking with over-exaggerated features painted on it’s face.

He’s not proud of what happens when they reach the end.

Felicity, on the other hand, is overjoyed, if not completely freaked out herself. She’d screamed just as much as he had and had thrown herself at him, burying her face into his chest. He may or may not have also buried his own face in her hair.

He’s not admitting to anything.

After a few moments of heart-pounding silence, Felicity shifts off of him and he reaches over to flick on his bedside lamp, the darkness instantly dissipated. She sits up beside him, breathing heavily but a ridiculously proud look on her face.

“Admit it! You totally jumped. You screamed and squeezed my hand and quaked with fear because you, Oliver Queen, are afraid of clowns.”

“Why won’t you let this go?” he asks, rolling his eyes even as his pulse is still slowing. “Why are you so insistent that I be afraid of something?”

“Because you’re a human being and human beings are afraid of things. It’s normal, Oliver. Everyone finds something scary or creepy and in my case it’s like, a hundred things, but there has to be one thing that you’re afraid of. And why not clowns? It’s practically a universal law that everyone finds them creepy.”

“If I agree that clowns are creepy will you let me go to sleep?” he asks, because it’s nearing 3AM and he has a class in the morning that he should probably attend, not because he actually wants her out of his bed.

She purses her lips in thought. “Yes,” she answers after a moment. “If you admit that you’re afraid of clowns, I’ll let it go.”

“That includes reading all those scary stories, just to find things I’m afraid of,” he adds. “No more of that. You need to get a good night’s sleep and it can’t be comfortable sleeping squished in here with me.”

“It feels good sleeping with you,” she responds immediately, then blushes. “I mean, here in your bed. Where you sleep. And I sleep. Sometimes. Sleep sleep of course, not the other kind, we don’t do that. I mean, we do that, but not together. Oh god, please stop me. It’s too late for my brain to function properly.”

“I’m afraid of clowns,” he says, derailing her never-ending ramble and furiously attempting to stop his brain from picturing him doing that together. She hasn’t rambled around him in years, since they first met and became friends, and he’d always figured that meant that she’d gotten over the obvious crush she’d originally had on him. They’ve both dated other people before and since they’ve been roommates, although it’s now nearing a year since his last girlfriend.

He doesn’t examine the reason why he hasn’t had any drive to date anyone right now.

Felicity grins and honest to god fist pumps and Oliver shakes his head at her. “I knew I’d get you to fold.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You win. I find clowns creepy. But they are a totally normal fear. What about all those scary stories you’ve been reading? Those things are probably feeding into your nightmares, right? Like the one with the kids who go into the woods and-”

“Stop! Stop it. Do not remind me about that one. It was horrible,” she shudders. “I don’t think I slept with the lights off for a week.”

Oliver chuckles. “I know.”

“Jerk.”

He shrugs. “You started it.”

“So mature.” She sticks her tongue out at him, before gathering up her laptop and hopping off the bed. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night,” he says, lying back onto his pillow. “Sweet dreams.”

She humphs and stomps out of his room and into the dark hallway.

He’s just turned the light back off, when there’s a tiny squeak from outside his door. His pulse jumps as his door slowly opens. He relaxes when soft footsteps he instantly recognizes pad across the room and the covers are drawn back.

Felicity climbs in next to him, pulling the comforter back over both of them.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep alone after that movie,” she says, lying on her side so that she faces him. “No way in hell.”

He shakes his head at her. “Okay.”

And if they wake up wrapped around each other in the morning, well-rested after a good night’s sleep, neither of them bring it up until it becomes a routine that they can’t ignore anymore.

Chapter Text

Oliver steps out of the shower in a cloud of steam. His muscles ache, but he feels more relaxed after the two hour workout and hot shower than he had before. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous to meet new people. Well, it’s not even that he’s nervous exactly. Anxious — maybe that’s a better word. Because he’s no longer the social playboy that he used to be before…

Before.

Before his life changed in a split second. Before he lost everything.

Reaching out a hand, he clears the mirror of condensation and examines himself. Does he need to shave? He hasn’t been clean shaven in years either, but maybe it’s time for a change? His hand hovers above the handle for the drawer where he keeps the electric razor for a moment before withdrawing. Not today.

Instead he roughly towel dries his hair and pulls on slacks and a plaid shirt, studiously avoiding glancing at his body in the mirror. There had been a time in his life when he would spend an embarrassingly long amount of time preening in front of the mirror. When he held his body in high regard and carefully sculpted his image based on his looks.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Now, he spends his days fighting the darkness that’s wrapped itself around him so tightly that they’ve become one and the same. Oliver Queen is synonymous with darkness these days. It’s the reason that he’s spent the last five years alone. He refuses to let anyone in, to bring someone down with him.

Or he had. Until Tommy had signed him up for online dating without his knowledge, and he’d ended up connecting with Sara. At first he’d refused to even chat with her, but eventually he had grown curious about the mysterious woman and they’d spoken more and more often. Oliver was generally very reserved with personal information, but he and Sara surprisingly seemed to have a lot in common.

Fast forward three months and he’s agreed to meet her friends. Hence the ridiculous nerves that he can’t get rid of.

It’s not a big deal, he tells himself. He likes Sara, she understands that he’s got a dark history because she’s got one of her own. She doesn’t push him to do or share things he’s not comfortable with. They just clicked, which is probably because they’re so similar. It makes this thing between them easy, and easy is good. Easy is all he can handle. Keep it simple, keep it on the surface. Have fun with someone who isn’t looking for a life partner or a big romantic gesture, because that’s not who he is anymore.

With a shake of his head, he glances over at himself once more. He thinks he looks acceptable to meet the friends of the girl he’s been seeing for the past few months. Shutting out the light, he leaves the bathroom and the memories behind.

***

He knocks on the bright red door and waits. That’s the polite thing to do, right? He’s not sure he and Sara are at the walking in without knocking stage just yet. They’re definitely not at the key exchanging stage.

The door swings open before he can think on it any longer and while the girl on the other side is blonde, she’s not Sara and Oliver momentarily can’t breathe.

There’s a light shining behind her, so he can’t quite make out her features, but somehow she exudes brightness. She’s wearing a sunny yellow dress that bares defined shoulders and nips in to a narrow waist. His eyes trace down her body to find fire engine red heels on her feet and then trail back up to find that she’s taken a little step towards him.

Her head tips slightly to the side as she takes him in. Now that’s she’s moved he can see her more clearly and god, she’s fucking beautiful. He can’t remember the last time he felt something so suddenly and strongly. But this girl, this woman, tugs at something he didn’t even know was inside him anymore.

Bright blue eyes behind rectangular glasses widen as they meet his and hold.

“Are you.. Oliver?”

Jesus, even her voice is gorgeous. A little rough, a little breathy, all kinds of sexy. Heat rushes through him as she presses her brightly painted lips together. He would never call himself a lip or a mouth man, but the way she’s coloured hers is doing crazy things to him.

She’s doing something to him.

What is wrong with him?

He’s dating Sara. Sara.

Whose apartment he’s at right now.

Belatedly, he realizes that the woman in front of him asked him a question and all he’s done in response is stare at her like a dehydrated man discovering water in the desert. She must think he’s some kind of creepy predator. What a great first impression.

Gritting his teeth together, he nods jerkily. “I’m Oliver.”

She nods a bunch of times, like she’s attempting to shake a thought out of her head. Is she as affected as he is? Not possible, he thinks. It’s all in his head. She is being completely normal and inviting him into Sara’s home, and as she widens the door and he steps inside, he makes sure to leave a wide berth.

When he moves past her there’s a sharp intake of breath, and he pauses, just for a moment, before swallowing thickly and continuing into the living room. It’s a few moments later before he hears the door close with a sharp snap. No footsteps follow, so he heads in to greet Sara, trying to put the entire weirdly tense encounter out of his mind.

“Hi Oliver,” Sara chirps, while he bends in to press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re here!”

“I am,” he says, smiling down at her. Sara is tiny and he towers over her, something that he knows she likes. “Your friend let me in.”

Sara’s brows furrow, then clear, and she grins. “Then you met Felicity.”

Felicity.

Oh fuck.

The woman at the door was Felicity? AKA Sara’s best friend Felicity, who she’s talked all about since they first met? He’s heard more stories about her than he’s heard about his actual girlfriend, but somehow a picture has never been produced. Would this crazy pull he’s feeling have appeared if he knew what she looked like beforehand? If he’d been prepared?

Prepared. What is he even thinking. This is Sara’s friend, the one person who has been there for her during all the shit she’s been through in her life. It’s not his place to feel anything for her, let alone the gut clenching attraction he’d felt when she opened the door.

As though he’s summoned her, Felicity steps back into the room, and her eyes immediately catch his and hold. Something travels between them, something that he can’t quite name, and their stare is only broken when she tears her eyes away and rakes a shaky hand through her gloriously tumbled hair.

“…Oliver?”

Sara’s voice jerks him back to the present.

“What?” He turns to look down at her and she’s smiling up at him as though she has no idea what is going through his head. Good. He needs to get his thoughts under control because whatever is going on right now is not going to continue.

He cares about Sara. Sara is his girlfriend. Sara is perfect for him because she’s damaged and a little bit broken, just like him.

“I said, do you want a drink,” she asks, gesturing with a slim hand towards the kitchen, hidden from his sight. “Beer, wine, I’ve got it all.”

“Scotch,” he replies without thinking, and Sara’s eyes widen in surprise.

“O-okay.” She doesn’t ask, just presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and slips away.

It’s a touchy subject but somehow scotch seems like exactly what he needs right now.

He turns back to the living room, which seems crowded only because Sara’s place is tiny. In actuality there’s about eight people here. It’s a lot, considering this is the first time he’s meeting any of her friends.

They’ve been together for a few months, but have kept things just between the two of them up until now. There’s a lot of separate history that they’ve been working through, demons both on Sara’s side and his that they’ve gradually been sharing. It’s easy to talk to her about those kinds of things, the dark, deep things that he would be afraid to confess to anyone else. But Sara’s past is darker than his own and she understands what he’s done, what he’s been through. She doesn’t judge, because she has her own darkness. Understanding is key between them and he’s surprised at how easy it’s been. It’s as though they’ve known each other for longer than just months.

A musical laugh catches his attention and his eyes are involuntarily drawn back to Felicity.

Somehow, everything that he’s felt with Sara in the past months pales in comparison to the tension and magnetism between he and Felicity in just this brief interaction.

Which is wrong, he thinks. He knows a fair bit about her, because Sara has spoken about her intelligence and generosity, and while he knows that there’s definitely more to her than that, she’s light in all the ways that he is dark. In fact, she’s literally bathed in light right now, leaning casually against a doorway and chatting to a dark haired guy that Oliver doesn’t know, and he wants to be closer, to be there beside her, talking to her and laughing with her.

Laughing.

Oliver rarely laughs anymore.

Something cool slips into his hand, and he looks down to find Sara back beside him and two fingers of scotch in his hand. “Having fun?”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“Sorry if this is overwhelming,” she says, moving to stand in front of him. “It was only supposed to be a couple close friends, but it kind of spiralled out of control.”

“It’s fine.” And it is. Not a big deal. He can put on a mask just as well as she can, and right now he’s playing Ollie Queen - the guy who’s comfortable in large crowds and unknown social situations.

She eyes him, then grabs his empty hand. “Well, since you already met Felicity, I want you to meet my friend Caitlin. She’s a scientist, and she…”

He lets her lead him away to a willowy brunette with a soft voice, and he forces himself to focus on this conversation, to forget the beautiful bespectacled blonde who has captivated his attention since he got here. There’s nothing there. Nothing good can come of that situation, so he needs to forget about it right now. Put it out of his mind and be here, be present with Sara, who is literally the perfect woman for him.

He can’t fuck this up, because there is no way in hell he’ll ever find another person who’s just as broken as he is, and being alone is more than a little bit terrifying.

***

Her hands are shaking.

Trembling.

They won’t stop.

Haven’t stopped since she opened the door and he stood on the other side and looked at her like he wanted to devour her.

Even now, while she attempts to chat lightheartedly to Barry, her fingers twist around one another to hide the fact that she’s shaking.

She can still feel his eyes on her.

Feels them like a physical touch, like he’s actually running a hand down her arm, leaving a burning trail of heat in his path. Like she’s going to burn up if it goes on for much longer. She’s never felt anything like this.

She has no idea what Barry’s even talking about, just nods at what seems like the appropriate time, and smiles when his lips curve.

When he looks away, she shivers. She shudders, and swallows thickly, refusing to look over her shoulder.

God, what is wrong with her?

He’s Sara’s boyfriend. He’s completely off limits. More off limits than anything else in the history of everything. It doesn’t matter that she’d been stunned silent when he’d appeared on the other side of the door. It doesn’t matter that something inside of her had seemed to ignite when his eyes had widened as they took her in. It doesn’t matter that he can’t seem to take his eyes off her and she is fighting everything inside of her to keep focusing on Barry.

He’s Sara’s.

He has made Sara happier in the last few months than Felicity has seen her friend in the past two years. Oliver understands Sara in a way that Felicity can’t. It’s been amazing and she’s been so thankful for the changes she’s seen in her friend because it’s like a bit of the heavy weight that’s been hanging from her shoulders since she’s been back has lifted.

And it’s because of Oliver.

So no. There is no way that she’s ever, ever, going to do anything about the instant attraction, the pull she’s felt to him since he arrived. She’s not that kind of person, the one who would put her own happiness over a friend’s.

Not that Oliver would necessarily make her happy. She’s barely exchanged ten words with him and only knows a bit about him from comments Sara has made. Who knows if they would even get along, let alone anything more than that.

What is she even thinking?

There’s no way anything is happening between them, not ever, and she needs to get her brain back on track because if another glass of wine appears in her hands there’s no saying what might escape from her mouth and she is having some dangerous, dangerous thoughts.

“Dinner’s ready,” Sara calls across the room.

Felicity swallows in response.

She can do this. This is not a big deal. Nothing is happening, she’s decided, and that is that. The end.

Except once she’s seated - between Barry and Caitlin thank goodness - her eyes completely rebel and find Oliver’s across the table.

His eyes, a dark blue that reminds her of twilight, mesmerize her, so much so that when Barry offers to top off her wine she jumps and elbows him in the side.

“Ow, Felicity, jeez,” he complains, setting down the bottle and rubbing his rib.

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologizes. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, for being elbowed by the boniest elbows on the face of the earth,” he jokes. “Seriously, those things should have a licence.”

Rolling her eyes, she grabs the bottle he’d offered and fills her glass halfway, thankful for the break in the mood. This is going to be a long dinner. “You’re one to talk, Allen,” she says, “for someone with the knobbiest knees I’ve ever seen.”

They continue to joke around with each other, keeping the conversation light and easy and everything goes smoothly.

Until it doesn’t.

It starts when she volunteers to clean up after dinner. Sara cooked, which is a rarity in and of itself, and so she feels like it’s only fair that she doesn’t get stuck with the dishes too. Everybody else heads into the living room and Felicity sets to work stacking plates and gathering cutlery to carry into the kitchen. Thankfully Sara’s place now has a dishwasher. The last apartment she’d lived in had been a piece of shit and had barely had hot water, let alone appliances that worked.

She remembers how excited Sara had been to live there though. After coming back to Starling, things had been rough. It’s not a time she likes to think of because remembering how her friend had struggled to assimilate back into normal life was painful. Seeing Sara now, most people would have no idea what she’d gone through.

Even though she’s only been with Oliver for a few months, he’s been a big part of that. Somehow he understands her in a way that Felicity isn’t able to. They can talk about things she has no idea about. Part of her is a little sad that she isn’t able to do that for her friend, but she’s mostly glad that somebody can connect with her.

Opening the dishwasher, she sets about loading the plates and glasses and utensils in. Her mind drifts as she works, hands busy with their task. It somehow spins back to Oliver. Back to that moment in the hallway, and her chest clenches.


What had that been about?

She’s never felt something like that before. Ever. And while she enjoys fantasy as much as the next person, she’s not fanciful enough to believe in love at first sight. It doesn’t make sense, even if certain intellectuals claim that two people’s body chemistry can be compatible and interact upon first meeting.

“Do you want some help with that?”

The voice sends chills through her body and she freezes, knowing who’s behind her without turning around. How? How does she know that? She’s only heard him speak what, a few times at the table and once in the hallway? It doesn’t make sense!

“I’m good,” she squeaks in an embarrassingly high voice, without turning around. She keeps loading the dishwasher, clanking the plates loudly together so that maybe he’ll leave.

He steps closer, peering into the sink. “Are you sure? There’s a lot of pots and pans in here. I don’t mind washing up.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he’s already turned on the water in the empty sink, setting the drain in place. And then he rolls up his shirtsleeves and she nearly swallows her tongue.

She’s never really considered herself an arm girl. Or an anything girl. But the thick, corded muscles in Oliver’s forearms, the contrast between his plaid shirt and tanned skin, the light dusting of hair… It does things to her insides. Things that she definitely doesn’t want to examine too closely, because Sara.

“Oh, uh… Sure. Thanks.” Thankfully her voice comes out completely neutral this time, and she quickly finishes loading the dishes while Oliver washes the pots and pans and sets them onto Sara’s drying rack.

She grabs a dishtowel and starts drying them, and they work in companionable silence, as though they’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s weird. But also kind of nice? Maybe he’s trying to get to know her, because she’s Sara’s best friend. Maybe this whole strange feelings thing is completely in her head and he hasn’t noticed her acting like a complete basket case.

Reaching for another pot to dry, her hand brushes his as he sets a wet one down, and it’s instantaneous. Like fireworks exploding. Her fingers clench the pot so tightly they turn white, and the pan he’s holding slips out of his fingers to land in the rack with a loud clang. Sparks tingle up her arm and erupt into her chest. He snatches his hand back and thrusts it into the water, fiercely scrubbing the next pot.

Closing her eyes momentarily, she chastises herself. She’s acting like a spaz. He touched her hand. Her hand. By accident.

She needs to stop. This needs to stop.

“All right, I think the rest can just dry there. In the rack. I mean, there’s enough space and I really should be getting back out there.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder, words spilling out in a rush, only she’s still holding onto the dishtowel and it accidentally smacks her in the face. Quickly tossing it onto the counter, she blows out an exasperated breath. “Thanks for helping.”

Then she darts back to the safety of the living room and other people who don’t elicit strange feelings from her by simply touching her hand or catching her eye.

Sara moves to sit beside her on the couch, leaning into her and bumping her shoulder gently. “So. What do you think?”

Felicity wrinkles her nose. “About what?”

“About Oliver!” Sara rolls bright blue eyes. “Duh, come on Smoak.”

“Oh, right.” She scrambles for something to say other than I feel incredibly attracted to your boyfriend, who I just met and who I know has turned your life around, even though I most definitely do not believe in love at first sight. “He seems nice.”

“Nice? Really, that’s it?”

“Well, we didn’t actually get to talk, Sara. I don’t know anything more about him now than I did before, except that you weren’t exaggerating when you told me that he works out.”

Sara barks out a laugh and Felicity feels heat rush to her cheeks. “That he does,” she agrees, raising her beer to her lips and taking a sip. “I’m surprised that you noticed.”

Felicity turns a sharp look on her friend. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Felicity. It’s been ages since you’ve had a date.” Sara’s voice is clearly aiming to tease, but there’s a thread of seriousness underneath that Felicity knows is really concern. “Talk about a dry spell.”

Pressing her lips firmly together, Felicity shifts slightly away. This is not something she wants to talk about right now, in a room full of people. It just brings terrible memories of Cooper to mind, and the shit they went through together, and worst of all, how it all ended. Her eyes well up with tears that she furiously blinks away before anyone notices.

Of course Sara notices. “Hey, I’m sorry,” she says softly, her hand falling to Felicity’s and squeezing tight. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” Sara fixes her with an incredulous look. “I am,” Felicity insists. “I swear.”

Sara glances up at her, and the smile that follows completely lights up her face. “Okay,” she says. “I only ask because you’re my best friend and I love you and I want what’s best for you.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Sara shifts away and then stands up. “All right, enough sappy stuff. I need another beer and Oliver needs to be saved from what is almost certainly one of Ray’s lengthy diatribes, which is probably chock full of words that no one even understands.”

“I understand them,” Felicity protests, as Sara walks away.

She waves a hand over her shoulder, brushing off Felicity’s words. “Yeah, but you’re a genius, so you don’t count.”

Felicity watches as Sara sidles up to Oliver, slipping under the arm he has propped against the doorway and pressing herself against the side of his body. His lips curve and he glances down at her, letting his arm drop to her shoulders so he can pull her closer to him. Sara walks her fingers up his arm as they both nod along with whatever Ray is saying, before Sara interrupts and both men laugh in response.

Oliver suddenly glances away from them both and Felicity quickly looks away, not wanting to be caught staring. Talk about awkward.

She can feel his eyes on her though. Feel them. Like a brand on her skin, and why is he even looking at her when he’s with Sara, who’s a hundred times hotter than she is and she can hold a normal conversation without needing to stick her foot in her mouth.

Seriously, this has got to stop. Is it too early to bow out gracefully? She surreptitiously pulls out her phone to check the time, but soon gets distracted by a notification from a website she follows, and then she’s drawn into an article about a new piece of tech she’s been waiting to be released.

“Hey.”

Felicity jumps when a voice speaks right beside her. She looks up, startled, to find that Sara has returned with Oliver in tow. She’s perched on the couch beside her while Oliver awkwardly looms from the couch’s arm. He studiously avoids meeting her eyes, making her wonder if she really is imagining this thing between them. Maybe…

“Hello? Earth to Felicity.”

“Sorry.” She blinks and turns her focus to Sara. “New tech release. Must have lost track of time.”

“Yeah, you did,” Sara laughs. “Everybody else is gone.”

What? Eyes wide, Felicity glances around the room, which is in fact empty. How did that even happen? How embarrassing. Oliver probably thinks she’s even weirder than before. Not that it matters what he thinks. She doesn’t care. At all.

“Frack,” Felicity mutters. “I should go, too.”

“No rush,” Sara hurries to say, but there’s no way Felicity is hanging around to third wheel with Sara and Oliver. Hard pass.

“I’ll talk to you soon. Lunch on Thursday?”

Sara nods in response. “Sounds good. I’ll text you the place.”

“Okay,” Felicity agrees, locating her purse and slinging the strap over her shoulder. She turns her gaze to Oliver, because it would be completely rude to just leave without acknowledging him, no matter what weird things are going on inside of her. “It was really nice to meet you, Oliver.“

He smiles at her and her heart flutters in response. Man, he’s got a great smile.

“Uh…” Oliver’s eyes widen.

“I think so too,” Sara chirps, a shit eating grin on her face.

Felicity mentally smacks herself on the forehead, cheeks heating as she closes her eyes. “Ugh. I totally said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Of course you did, and I love you for it,” Sara assures her. “Oliver has a great everything. No need to be embarrassed.”

Oliver’s face grows pink and he frowns at Sara, as though he doesn’t agree with her evaluation of him. He doesn’t say anything, but Felicity can somehow easily read the expression on his face.

“Well, anyways. I’m going to leave before I can comment on anything else inappropriate. Sara, I will talk to you later. Oliver, again, it was great to finally meet you.” Basically running out the front door, she shuts it loudly behind her before letting out a huge sigh.

God, she is a mess. What is wrong with her tonight? Emotions all over the place, weird feelings for Sara’s nearly perfect boyfriend, embarrassing comments… Okay, that last one is pretty normal, but the other stuff needs to stop.

“Felicity?”

Freezing, she tips her head up to the night sky. Can she not catch a break tonight?

“Oliver.” She spins around, pasting a smile onto her face.

He’s standing uncertainly on the bottom step, breath fogging in front of him in the cool night air.

“Uh, Sara asked if I would walk you to your car,” he explains, scratching behind one ear and looking distinctly uncomfortable. “She said you had to park pretty far away.”

“It’s not that far,” she quickly assures him. “I’m just over there.” She hikes a thumb over her shoulder, pointing out the red Mini parked half a block away. “I’ll be completely fine.”

He nods, but doesn’t make any move to leave. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just make sure you get there safely. You know that Sara will kill me if I come back too soon.”

She does know, because Sara does the same thing herself. Insists on walking Felicity to her car, or keeping her on the phone while she walks there, as though Sara lives in the Glades or something. She doesn’t live in the ritzy area of Starling, but it’s not the slums either. Sara’s just extremely overprotective, especially now, and so Felicity goes with the flow, letting Sara make sure she gets home safely so that her friend will be able to sleep at night.

“Okay,” she agrees with a little nod. “Thanks.”

He shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets. “No problem.”

She smiles tightly at him, then spins around to hustle to her car.

“Felicity!”

His voice carries easily over the still night and makes her come to a stop. She half turns to face him and finds he’s taken a few steps down the paved driveway.

“It was really nice to meet you too,” he calls, his expression unreadable.

Pulse thrumming, she nods jerkily and bares her teeth in what she hopes resembles a smile. Then she all but runs to her car and leaps inside. Anything to escape this night and this strange, magnetic attraction. Oliver waits until she’s pulled away from the curb before he turns to head back inside, and she lets out a shaky breath as she navigates to her apartment.

She cannot have these emotions. You don’t just have feelings for somebody you just met. Especially not when that person is your best friend’s boyfriend.

Not happening, she tells herself firmly.

Maybe if she says it enough times, it will actually sink in.

Chapter Text

It’s just about dinner time and Oliver’s jogging through the park. He’s not really paying much attention to his surroundings, too busy rapping the words to his favourite Hamilton song currently blasting through his headphones, when he nearly runs into his favourite blonde.

She darts to the side, narrowly avoiding a complete collision, and he stops in his path because he hasn’t seen her in far too long.

And he can’t help but notice…

“You… got a dog?”

Felicity smiles brightly, despite the enormous animal tugging enthusiastically on the end of the leash. The park is mostly deserted, but one passerby shoots a dirty look in her direction, as though telling her to keep her dog under control.

“Yep!”

The dog barks loudly at him, and she jumps in response. Oliver furrows his brows and slowly takes a step back. It’s teeth look very sharp.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she assures him loudly over the sound of the dog’s barks, the muscles in her arms clearly straining as she keeps ahold of him. “He’s completely friendly. Just a bit overenthusiastic.”

“You think?” His voice holds a note of sarcasm and she narrows her eyes in his direction.

“Oliver! Be nice,” she scolds, even as the animal continues to bark enthusiastically. “He was the last one left and I couldn’t just let him stay there all alone. It’s Christmas!”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t even celebrate Christmas.”

“This dog does.”

“It’s a dog. How do you even know what it celebrates?” He pauses, running what he’s just said over in his head. “I mean, dogs clearly don’t celebrate holidays, Felicity.”

She purses her lips, as the dog finally quiets, though it still whimpers and strains at the leash, attempting to get closer. Her voice softens to a normal tone now that it’s calmer. “Well, that may be true, but the people at the shelter do, and they were closing for the holidays, which meant that this guy would’ve been left there alone. And I just couldn’t do it.”

He shakes his head slightly. Her heart is so big, so caring. It’s something that he loves about her, one of the best things about her. Usually. But right now, he’s a bit… concerned.

“Is he… going to live in your apartment?” he asks, carefully edging a bit closer. It really is a pretty handsome dog.

He doesn’t know a lot about dogs, seeing as his mother had forbade such animals in their home growing up, but given it’s giant ears and long legs, this one is definitely part Shepherd. It’s fur is all dark browns and blacks, with lighter tans and white on it’s belly. It looks up at him with big, soulful brown eyes, cocking it’s head to the side as though it’s communicating with him. Oliver shakes his head and looks away. Dogs can’t communicate with people.

Felicity nods. “Yeah. I mean, where else would he live?” She shakes her head like he’s asked an obviously stupid question.

“So this what, 75 pound dog is going to share your one bedroom apartment. The one you constantly moan doesn’t have enough space for you and all your technology? That apartment.”

“It’ll be fine, Oliver. Honestly. He’s a dog.” She shakes her head, sending her curls bouncing around her face.

“And what about-“

“We broke up.” She stops him before he finishes and the tone of her voice invites no questions. Her shoulders stiffen and she studiously avoids his eyes, while his brain tries to react to this new information.

“You broke up?” The last he knew, they were deliriously happy together, and her douchebag boyfriend had basically moved in with her. He’d never liked Cooper. There was always something just off about him, but he’d never said anything to her because it wasn’t his place to comment on her love life.

“Yep.” She nods jerkily, still refusing to look at him. “No big deal.”

“No big deal? Felicity…” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he steps closer and bends a bit, trying to get her to meet his gaze.

“Oliver.” Her tone sharpens and the dog’s ears flatten against it’s head. He stops in his tracks, and her hand drops to stroke along the dog’s collar. “It’s just… It’s not a big deal,” she repeats. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She seems more mad, or maybe even frustrated, than sad, so he lets it drop for now. He knows from experience that she’ll open up to him when she’s ready.

There’s a long silence, during which the strains towards him still and Felicity just stands there, thinking. After closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she finally looks up at him, only to open her mouth and say, “So, how about you and-”

“Done,” he quickly interrupts, before she can even finish. “It just… It wasn’t right.”

It’s strangely coincidental that they’re both single now, a rarity that hasn’t happened in the history of their friendship. He doesn’t really want to think of the conversation he’d had with Laurel, one that had been a long, long time coming.

She nods slowly, before dropping her eyes back to the pavement. “I guess it’s been awhile since we’ve actually seen each other.”

“Things have been a bit crazy at QC,” he admits, pressing his lips together. He really doesn’t want to talk about work right now. It’s the weekend and he’s planning on spending the next two days doing anything but work. “How are things at Smoak Tech?”

She huffs out a laugh. “Probably crazier than QC.”

He smiles, because Smoak Tech is way newer than QC, but it’s grown exponentially in the past three years. It’s kind of amazing, and he’s incredibly proud of Felicity. She works harder than anyone he knows, including himself, which means she probably doesn’t want to talk about work right now either.

Figuring that he’d better let the dog get to know him if it’s going to be staying with Felicity, he steps closer. The dog’s ears perk up and he scrambles back to a sitting position, tail wagging, clearly excited at the prospect of a new playmate. Oliver sticks out his hand slowly, palm up, and the dog eagerly wriggles closer to sniff at him.

“He likes you,” she says, as the animal gives him a lick before pressing his face enthusiastically into Oliver’s crotch. “Although he likes pretty much anyone who pays attention to him…”

“Great,” he replies distractedly, trying to push the dog’s cold nose away from his groin. “Does this dog have a name?”

Felicity’s cheeks flush and she reaches out to grab hold of his collar to haul him away. The action brings her hands distractingly close to him and he mentally groans.

“Yes. His name is Tucker.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a treat and says firmly, “Sit.”

Tucker’s butt plops immediately onto the ground and he turns his full attention to Felicity, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Oliver’s pretty impressed.

“Good boy,” she says after a moment, feeding him the treat. It immediately disappears, but Tucker keeps his focus on her pocket, probably hoping that more treats will appear if he pays close enough attention.

“He’s pretty well behaved,” he comments, reaching out to scratch behind the dog’s ears. They’re silky smooth and Oliver finds himself rubbing them between his fingers. Tucker lets out a little sigh, as though he’s enjoying it just as much as Oliver, and glances up at him happily.

Huh. Maybe dogs can communicate with people.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “The ladies at the shelter said that he’s very motivated by food, and that he loves people. And animals. Pretty much anything that will pay attention to him. He just wants people to love him.”

Her tone turns a little sad as she finishes speaking, her gaze turned downward towards Tucker’s dark head. She glances up at him after a moment, an emotion in her eyes that he can’t quite read. Instead, he gives her a soft smile.

“You’ve got a lot of love to give, Felicity. He’s a lucky dog to be in your life.”

She swallows, shaking her head minutely, before smiling back at him. “I think I’m the lucky one,” she says, looking down at the dog who’s wiggled closer and closer and is now settled on top of her feet, as close to her as he can get.

“Did you walk here?” he asks, looking around for her car.

She nods. “He needed the exercise. He’s been cooped up for days at the shelter and they just have a tiny fenced area for all the dogs to play in.”

Oliver can’t help but picture the small green space that her apartment building calls a yard, and furrows his brow. “But…”

“It’s a good thing I live just a block away from this park,” she quickly clarifies. “Clearly, he’s a big dog who needs a lot of fresh air and exercise, which I knew before I decided to adopt him. I’m not one of those people who just adopts an animal and then returns it awhile later because they didn’t consider all the things a dog needs.”

He nods slowly, still having trouble imagining Felicity living with this giant animal. She crouches down to the dog’s level and scratches behind his ears. Her lips move but he can’t quite make out what she’s saying. Wait. Was that his name? Is she talking about him? To the dog?

“What are you telling him?”

Felicity glances up, a picture of innocence. “Nothing.”

“You said my name.”

“You’re being paranoid, Oliver.”

Maybe he is. This whole encounter has kind of caught him off guard. And what could Felicity say to a dog that would really matter, in the long run? It’s not like the dog can understand what she’s saying.

And then Tucker bounds enthusiastically over to him, eyes bright and tongue lolling out of his mouth. Oliver’s not scared of dogs, but he does take a step back, instinctively. Just one.

“Whoa.”

Tucker plops his butt down, practically on Oliver’s feet, and looks up at him with what Oliver can only describe as puppy dog eyes. They’re incredibly pathetic and definitely do not make him melt on the inside.

“What’s he doing?” He can’t seem to look away from Tucker’s soulful gaze.

“He’s asking you if you want to come with us,” Felicity responds, and he glances up to find her looking at them affectionately.

“Come with you where?”

“Well, the people at the shelter recommended that I feed him every once and awhile, so I need to get food,” she explains, laughter in her eyes. “Plus, he needs a bed and some toys and maybe a new leash.”

He eyes the leash currently in her hand. “You don’t like the pink?”

“I don’t mind it, but I don’t know that it’s really Tucker’s style,” she says. “I mean, we just met, Tucker and I, but from what I can tell, I think he’s more of a green or a red kind of guy.”

Tucker wriggles impatiently, drawing Oliver’s attention back to the handsome dog, and he reaches out to scratch his ears again.

“You want me to come with you?” Immediately, Tucker’ cocks his head to the side, inquisitive eyes focused on Oliver. Oliver can’t help but smile. “He’s pretty smart.”

Felicity hums in agreement. “So do you want to come? I mean, I’m sure you maybe have other things to do. You’re a busy guy. I think, I mean, I don’t want to assume, but you must have been out here for a reason and you are all sweaty. Which is normally kind of gross but it’s a good look on you-”

“I’d love to come,” he interrupts gently, his hand still stroking the dog’s head, which has now leaned against the side of his leg, comforting and warm.

Felicity’s mouth clamps shut and she sighs. “Can’t go for one day, can you,” she mutters to herself, before smiling brightly at him. “Great! Let’s go.”

The words must be a cue for something because Tucker immediately takes off, sending Felicity stumbling along behind him. Oliver grabs for her arm to stabilize her and those damn sparks fly between them when his hand lands on the soft skin of her arm.

The dog jerks to a stop when he reaches the end of his leash and this time Oliver doesn’t draw his hand away right away. Felicity’s eyes slowly meet his and he can’t quite read the emotion that’s there. It’s different than weeks ago, than the last time he touched her, and not for the first time he wishes that she would be more open with him.

And then the stupid dog barks, and the moment is broken. He drops his hand and Felicity looks away, shaking her head slightly.

“All right, buddy, are you ready to get you some food?” Her voice is high pitched and shaky and before he can say anything, she’s striding down the sidewalk away from him.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t move, shouting after her as she hustles away.

“The pet store,” she calls over her shoulder, not stopping the brisk pace she’s set.

“Uh, it’s the opposite way.” Which he only knows because it’s across the street from QC.

Felicity abruptly turns on her heel and starts power walking the other direction. Tucker quickly adjusts, trotting happily alongside her. Oliver joins them when they go past him, and they walk together to the pet store.

Chapter Text

She can’t seem to escape it. This feeling that’s quickly taking over her chest, wringing her heart until it physically hurts. Everywhere she looks it’s like she’s being smacked in the face with reminders until it’s all she can see.

He’s all she can see.

He’s not even here, she hasn’t seen him in nearly two months, and still, its like he’s here in the room with her. Reminding her that they failed.

That she failed.

Failing is not something that she’s familiar with, or has ever been very good at, despite being good at most things she’s tried her hand at, and so failure, this failure specifically, still eats at her.

It’s the failure, she tells herself again. It’s that they weren’t successful, that she didn’t succeed. It’s most definitely not because she still cares about him. She doesn’t.

She most definitely is not still in love with Oliver Queen.

“Whoa. Okay then, Smoak.”

She whirls around to find Tommy Merlyn standing behind her, a knowing smirk on his handsome face. His hands are slung in the pockets of his suit and he looks as handsome as ever. And he knows it.

“What?” Her voice comes out relatively normal, which is a win. Because although she keeps running into Tommy, he’s still Oliver’s best friend. Which makes him no longer hers.

Tommy smiles at her. “Nothing. Never mind. You definitely were not talking out loud instead of in your head.”

“Frack,” she groans. “I didn’t…”

He holds up both hands in front of him. “I heard nothing. I swear.”

Felicity frowns at him. “I can destroy your life in fifteen different ways, Merlyn.”



“And I know it,” Tommy finishes. His voice softens. “I didn’t hear anything, Felicity. And even if I did, I wouldn’t say anything to him. I’m still your friend too.”

She scoffs. “Sure, okay then.”

“I am.”

“You’re his best friend. So you can’t been mine too.”

“This isn’t grade school,” Tommy says. “I can be friends with both of you, even if you’re not together anymore.”

“No,” Felicity says, “You can’t.”

Then she turns and strides away, because standing and talking about Oliver with Tommy sounds like the absolute worst way to spend the rest of this ridiculous wedding.

“Why are you here, anyways,” she snaps turning back around. “How do you even know anyone at this wedding?”

“I may be a few years older, but I went to school with all of you too,” he grins. “I can find a date if I want to.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. Tommy hasn’t changed in the decade that she’s known him. He’s always been a playboy, a terminal bachelor, and while everyone had thought that he and Laurel were finally going to settle down together, in the end it hadn’t worked out, and he was back to being single.

Kind of like her.

Ugh. That thought just sours her mood even more, so she scowls at Tommy, then turns on her heel and beelines for the bar.

She feels bad for thinking that this wedding is ridiculous, because it’s not. The bride and groom are so in love that it’s almost nauseating, and she’s happy for both of them. Kate has been her friend since high school, one of the few that she’s kept in contact with besides Thea and Sara, and although they don’t see each other very often now that they’re all adults with adult responsibilities, it’s amazing to see her friend so happy. Really. But everything here just serves as a reminder of everything that she lost, and it hurts.

Once she’s refreshed her wine, because if weddings are good for one thing it’s an open bar, she scouts the room for a place to hide where she won’t be assaulted by people who know Oliver, or people who want to talk about Oliver, or things that will remind her of Oliver. There’s a corner on the far side of the room that looks promising - both secluded and sans any wedding memorabilia - so she heads in the direction, avoiding eye contact with everyone she passes.

It’s a successful mission and she slumps into one of the two comfy chairs that are there, placing her glass on the little table beside her. And then she lets herself think. Just for a moment, while she’s alone.

How had she thought any of this would be a good idea?

It doesn’t matter that Oliver isn’t here. That they aren’t engaged anymore. This whole day has just been one giant reminder that this was supposed to be them. They were supposed to be the happily married couple, blissfully in love, swaying on the dance floor and getting lost in each other’s eyes. That was supposed to be them. She wasn’t supposed to be this bitter, single woman hiding on the outskirts of the room.

The bride and groom catch her eye from across the room and she immediately tells herself to look away, but can’t seem to actually do it. Because while it’s not exactly the same, the bride’s dress is similar to the one she’d picked out ages ago.

It had been one of the first dresses she’d even tried, but the moment she slipped it on, she’d known. Her mom’s teary eyes come to mind as she remembers stepping out of the fitting room. Thea had clapped her hands together, overjoyed, and her mom had cried ‘happy tears, baby’, and something inside of her had just clicked and said yes, Felicity, this is your dress.

Swallowing thickly, she makes herself look away. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t cry today. It’s not her day, and not her place to make a scene. She’ll save the tears for when she gets home, or at least to where she’s living now. She hasn’t really been home in quite a while. Nearly three months, if she’s being precise.

“Felicity. Hey. Are you-”

“I’m okay,” she quickly interrupts the familiar voice. Then she plasters a smile on her face and looks up.

Thea Queen stands poised beside her chair, looking for all the world as though she wants to drop into the seat beside her, but unsure if she’ll be welcomed.

“Sit down, Thea. If you want.”

She nods and lowers herself into the chair. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence follows, and Felicity wishes desperately for the easy conversation that used to flow between them. But once again, Thea belongs to Oliver, although people don’t really belong to other people, but she’s his little sister and if she chose a side it would obviously be Oliver’s. Which is okay. It’s totally fine.

“How have you been?” Thea finally asks, her eyes gazing out across the room. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you.”

“I’m good. Great, very busy with work and I’ve actually started rereading the Harry Potter series again and I think once I’m done with those I’ll do Lord of the Rings because why not, right?”

Her voice comes out overly bright and chipper, which is everything she’s not feeling right now, but Thea just nods slowly and doesn’t call her on her bullshit.

She hasn't been her best friend since elementary school for no reason.

“How are, uh, things with you?” Felicity doesn’t want to ask about Oliver, because she doesn’t want to know, but it’s polite social conventions to respond with a question after someone has asked you one. So she’s just being polite.

Thea purses her lips before she answers. ”It’s been… all right,” she finally says. “The restaurant is busy, which is fabulous, but there’s been a lot more work piled on everyone’s shoulders because…” She lets the words trailed off, glancing over at Felicity, uncertainty swimming in her eyes. “Well, I probably shouldn’t say anything else.”

Felicity swallows thickly. Is Oliver not working? Is he okay? The instant concern that blooms inside of her apparently doesn’t realize that they’re no longer together, but it doesn’t dissipate as she tries to figure out what Thea’s left unsaid.

“That sounds… tough.” She watches as Thea twists her fingers together.

“It hasn’t been easy,” Thea agrees. “I kind of thought we’d left all this behind, but even a sure thing can fail sometimes.”

Felicity nods numbly. They’d failed each other, she thinks. She and Oliver had taken each other for granted, figuring that the other would always be there no matter what, but everyone has their breaking points and they’d both reached theirs in an epic blowup that had resulted in Felicity throwing her ring at Oliver’s face, and Oliver storming out of the loft after yelling at her.

Oliver had never yelled at her before, not really, and it had startled her into silence, and then he was gone and the whole loft was silent. The silence had been oppressing, had been too much, and she'd slowly sunk to the floor, eyes tightly shut. As though if she kept her eyes shut, none of it would be real. When she opened them, something sparkly had caught her attention. Her ring had landed near one of the kitchen table legs, and it sat there innocently, taunting her.

What had she been thinking? How could she take off the ring that Oliver had worked so hard to buy for her with his own hard-earned money and throw it in his face? It was terrible, maybe the most awful thing she’d ever done, and it was no wonder he’d stormed out.

No wonder he’d left her.

“Felicity?”

Thea’s voice brings her out of her memories. She’s shifted closer to her, concern etched over her features. Her hand lands on Felicity’s arm and the warmth is a soothing balm.

“Are you okay?”

Felicity nods jerkily.

“Don't lie to me,” Thea says fiercely, her tone strong and sure. She’s known Felicity for too many years to be fooled.

“I’m not lying,” Felicity tries to say, but her voice comes out as a whisper and Thea cocks as eyebrow at her sad attempt. “Fine, what do you want to hear? That I’m not okay? Fine. I’m not.”

“I want the truth, Felicity. Before my brother, before anything, we were friends. We told each other everything and I miss that. I miss you.”

The swirling emotions inside of her explode in a diatribe of things she’s been keeping inside. “Well, the truth is that everything in this room reminds me that this was supposed to be us and it hurts. It just hurts.” Her fist lands on her chest, right over her heart, and Thea’s eyes soften as she takes a deep breath. “I just… It all went so wrong Thea, and sometimes I don’t even remember how I got here.”

“He misses you, too.”

“I don’t miss him,” Felicity insists, even as her stomach swoops. “I don’t.”

“Sure, okay,” Thea soothes. “I don’t believe you, but I believe you think that.”

“I just- I need some air.”

She pushes herself up and out of the chair, leaving Thea and her harsh truths behind. She doesn’t want or need to sit there and listen to her telling her things that she doesn’t even let herself think. Because the moment she softens, the moment she admits that she misses him, then everything that she’s carefully constructed in the past few months will crumble. And she needs to stay strong, to keep those walls intact if she’s ever going to make it without him.

Outside the air is brisk and goosebumps erupt instantaneously on the exposed skin on her arms. She steps to the railing that encircles the balcony and leans her elbows against it, drawing in deep breath of the cool night air in an attempt to calm her racing heart. Bringing a hand to her face, she swipes her cheeks and discovers that they’re wet.

She’s crying. How long has she been crying for?

How could she have no idea that she’d apparently been crying like an idiot in a room full of people? After she’d sworn to herself that she was not going to cry tonight.

“Felicity, hon, come on inside. She’s going to toss the bouquet.”

Her mom’s voice rings out clearly behind her in the still night, and suddenly she’s sobbing. Full out sobbing, ugly, snotty tears and all, and her mother’s arms quickly encase her in a tight hug. Felicity lets her head rest on her mom’s chest as the tears fall.

“Baby, what is it?” Donna’s voice is concerned and honest, but all Felicity wants to do is shake her.

Because she shouldn’t be catching the bouquet. That’s for single women and she is supposed to be married, not single.

Her heart feels like it’s in tatters even as her mother’s hand rubs comforting circles on her back.

“I can’t go back in there,” Felicity finally whispers, once she’s run out of tears.

Her mom nods, and seems to understand now. “It’s fine, baby. They won’t miss you if you sneak out early.”

Taking a fortifying breath, she pulls away from her mom. Donna frames her face with her hands, her eyes steady on Felicity’s. “Is this about Oliver?”

“Isn’t it always,” Felicity replies in a whisper, too wrung out to even begin to lie.

“Oh baby.” Donna’s eyes soften and she smiles sadly at Felicity. “You still love him.”


It’s not really a question, but Felicity finds herself nodding in response all the same. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

“Then you need to go to him. Talk to him.”

“He’s not going to want to listen,” she says. “He left.”

“You left each other,” her mom corrects. “And the way you told it, you didn’t give him much of a choice.”

Felicity shrugs halfheartedly. She’s pretty sure that he won’t want to talk to her, to hear anything she says. He hasn’t tried to contact her since that day in the loft, not one voicemail or text or anything. Just a wall of silence that she’s been too stubborn and terrified to broach.

*****

“Oliver, how is the beautiful Felicity doing?”

It’s not the first time he’s been asked, but it’s the first time he wishes he could punch someone in the mouth without being hauled out by security. Why hadn’t he told anyone that they broke it off? Because he’d figured that it wouldn’t be permanent, he reminds himself.

But two months later and he hasn’t heard from her, and it’s all just a big clusterfuck.

“She’s fine,” he says tightly, instead of smashing his fist into Carter Bowen’s smarmy face, then storms away as fast as his feet can take him.

He doesn’t get far.

“Oliver,” a frail voice calls to him. “Come here a minute.”

Goddammit. But he can’t ignore his grandmother, so he trudges over to the couch, where she’s perched like royalty. She is a Queen, after all.

“Hi, Grandma,” he says dutifully, kissing her cheek before settling beside her.

She clucks her tongue. “What are you doing here all by yourself? Where is that lovely fiancee of yours tonight? I can hardly believe she let you out alone.”

Oliver’s stomach sinks, because he can’t lie to his grandma. After his parents died, she was all he had, besides Thea, and she’s always supported him, no matter what. When he wanted to open a restaurant. When he refused to use his trust fund to do it. When Thea brought home a whip-smart blonde in the sixth grade and he told her he was going to marry that girl someday.

But somehow, he just hasn’t found the time to confess to his grandmother that he and Felicity aren’t together anymore. There have been numerous excuses and avoidances, but it seems that those have all come to an end now.


“Actually I have some news…”

Her face lights up, and, knowing where her thoughts are heading, he quickly scrambles to explain that Felicity is not pregnant.

“We broke up.”

It’s blunt and to the point and the light goes out of her eyes immediately, but her gaze narrows in on him. “What did you do?”

His mouth falls open. “Hey! What makes you think it was my fault?”

“Because I know you,” she replies, pursing her lips, and Oliver rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he says. “I don’t even really know what happened. Things were good, then they were a bit rocky. And then all of sudden we were screaming at each other across the loft. And then she threw the ring at me. And I left.”

“You left? Didn’t I teach you anything? Never go to bed-”

“Angry,” Oliver finishes, “I know. But it’s kind of hard to not go to bed angry when the person you’re fighting with doesn’t even bother calling you.”

“Well, did you call her?”

“No,” he admits. “But she didn’t call either.”

“Do two wrongs make a right? Oliver Jonas Queen, did you ever think that maybe she was waiting for you to call her?”

“But she’s the one who took off her ring,” he says, frustrated. “She practically ended the engagement herself, right there.”

“It sounds like you’re making a lot of assumptions,” she tells him. “Sometimes we do things in the heat of the moment that we don’t really mean. But you’re my grandson and I love you. No matter what.”

He nods, jaw clenched, turning her words over in his head. Had he been too harsh? Should he have called her first? Is this whole separation his fault?

“And because I love you, I’ll tell you when you’re being an idiot. And right now, you’re being an idiot.”

Oliver presses his lips together and takes a deep breath through his nose before he responds. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should go home, get a good night’s sleep.” She pauses. “Maybe take a shower. And then you should go and talk to her.”

“She’s not going to want to hear it,” he says. “She won’t listen to me.”

“You’ll never know until you try,” she responds, and from anyone else the saying would annoy the shit out of him, but it’s his grandmother and she’s been around the block a few more times than him, so he lets it slide.

She turns her sharp gaze on him. “Now, enough of this sad stuff. Go and get your grandmother another brandy.”

***

When he gets home, he’s still thinking about what his grandmother had said. Is she right? Had everything just gotten blown too out of proportion? Were they just both the most stubborn people on the planet, each refusing to give in first? Had these last three months just been an exercise in torture of his own creation?

Sometimes it takes somebody outside of the situation to help you see things more clearly, he thinks.

There’s a knock on the door just as he’s pouring himself two fingers of whiskey. It’s been a long night and he figures he deserves it. But then he’s interrupted, and he wonders who the hell is knocking on his door at two in the morning.

It better not be Thea, he thinks as he strides to answer. She was at a friend’s wedding tonight and she’s been known to show up on his doorstep hoping to crash in his guest room after a few drinks. Why she can’t just go to her own place, he still doesn’t know or understand. But he really doesn’t want to see her tonight, because every time they’re in the same room lately, all she does is rag on him for letting the restaurant slide, and snapping at everybody all the time, and he’s tired of listening to it.

So he’s got a bit of a fight in him when he swings open the door, but when it’s Felicity standing on the other side it completely drains out of him.

“Hi,” she says, and his heart pounds so loudly in his chest that he swears she must be able to hear it. “Sorry for just dropping by like this, but I was at this wedding tonight and seeing all those happy couples was just killing me and everywhere I looked just reminded me of you and all I can think about is how that was supposed to be us and it’s freezing out here, can I come in?”

He stares at her for a moment, because her eyes are bright, like she’s had a few drinks, but she doesn’t stumble over any of her words so she can’t be that drunk and he steps back wordlessly, opening the door wider. She slips by him and the scent of her assaults him before she disappears into his living room.

“This place is nice,” she comments, looking around.

He follows her into the room and glances around. It’s not nice. The “family home” is not somewhere he’s ever felt like he belonged. He can’t stand living here but he also couldn’t stand living in the loft without her. “It’s okay.”

She shivers beside him and he realizes that she’s not even wearing a coat. Why is she here? How is she here? He kind of feels like he’s dreaming, but he doesn’t think that his dream would come with awkward silences like the one they’re currently in the middle of.

He turns to ask her if she wants something to drink, but instead what comes out is, “what are you doing here?”

She flinches at his tone, but straightens her shoulders before turning to face him. “We need to talk.”

“We’ve had months to talk,” he responds.

“I didn’t see you jumping for the phone,” she snarks back. “I don’t recall having any missed calls from you.”

“I wasn’t the one who broke off the engagement.”

“I didn’t break it off,” she gasps. “You did. You left! You promised that you wouldn’t leave me and you left.”

“Yeah I left. I left after you tossed your ring at me like it was nothing. You know how much that ring meant to me. To us. If that wasn’t a signal that you were done, then I don’t know what is.”

“It wasn’t a signal. I was frustrated. I was angry. I was hurt.” Her eyes well up and she drops her gaze, taking a step back. The space between them has almost vanished as they argued and Oliver takes a step back as well.

“So what now,” he says after a moment, unable to take his eyes off her. It feels like it’s been ages since they’ve even been in the same room.

“Can we sit down? Please?”

He nods and lets her lead the way to the sofa that takes up most of the living room.

“I just… I miss you,” she finally says. She doesn’t look at him, instead keeping her gaze focused on her fisted hands.

He sighs. “Felicity. I miss you too.”

“This is stupid,” she says. “I honestly don’t even know what we were fighting about.”

“Me either,” he admits, a wry smile crossing his face. The silence that follows is more comfortable than the last. “But I think the problem was that we weren’t talking to each other. We weren’t leaning on each other, like real partners.”

“I think I let work take over my life and left you out in the cold,” she muses thoughtfully. “That big project had me acting like a complete stress ball and then with the promotion and you being busy with the restaurant there wasn’t much time left over for us to talk, or just be together…”

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. Maybe she’s right. Maybe they’re both right. Had it just been a big miscommunication?

“I’m sorry I left,” he finally says.

“I’m sorry I threw the ring at you.”

“My grandmother told me tonight that I was being an idiot,” he tells her, and she lets out a little giggle.

“I knew I liked her for a reason.”

“Yeah,” he says, “that’s something you two have in common. You’re both not afraid to call me on my shit.”

She nods. “You know it. But only when you need it.”

“Well, she was right. Partly right anyways. I thought that you wouldn’t want to talk to me, to figure things out, but here you are.”

“Here I am,” she echoes softly, before she turns to face him. “I have something for you.” And then she reaches into the tiny black purse she’s brought and pulls out the ring, dangling from a silver chain. “I couldn’t wear it tonight, but I haven’t been able to let it go. To let you go.”

His heart pounds in his chest because is she saying what he thinks she’s saying? Her lips curve as their relationship dangles in the cavernous space between them. He wants this, desperately. Wants her back in his life because it hasn’t been the same without her, no matter how much he told himself differently.

Before he can say anything, she’s moving, coming right up into his personal space where she belongs. Taking his hand, she drops the ring into his palm, the chain puddling around the simple band. It’s warm, despite the fact that it’s been in her purse all night, instead of against her skin. He curls his fingers protectively around it.

“I think… I think I’d like to try again,” she finally says, her voice soft. She looks up at him from under her lashes, blue eyes bright as they meet his. “Things aren’t ever going to be easy, but nothing worthwhile every comes easy. Right?”

“Right.” He smiles as he slides her ring into his pocket so that he can take her hands in his. “Plus, it’s like I told you ages ago. I love you. For better or for worse.”

She smiles tearily up at him and nods jerkily. “I love you, too.”

And then she’s kissing him. Or he’s kissing her. He’s not really sure who moves first, but in the end it doesn’t really matter. Because it’s the two of them, and they’re right where they belong.

Together.

Chapter Text

“Oliver. You need to jump.”

He looks over at her, expecting to see a smirk playing around her mouth or mirth in her eyes, but instead she looks completely serious. Her blue eyes are dark as they stare into his own, and his gut clenches uncomfortably. She must really believe that he’s in danger because he’s only seen that look in her eyes on a few memorable occasions in their past together.

But still…

“Are you crazy?”

There’s no way he’s just going to jump.

She shakes her head, like he’s being particularly slow, sending her ponytail bouncing. “You need to jump. Now.” Her hand reaches out, as though to touch his arm, but she quickly pulls it back before it makes any contact.

He blows out an exasperated breath. “Why on earth would I jump off a ten story building? I don’t even have my bow.” Hence, there’s no way to rig up a zip line or any way to not plummet to his death on the road below.

“Exactly.”

Honestly, his brow must be nearly permanently furrowed by now, after years of interactions between them just like this. For someone who talks an awful lot, she’s incredibly skilled at saying nothing of value.

“Oliver,” she says, like she’s talking to a child, “right now you’re not in any imminent danger.”

He glances behind them, at the door to the roof that he blocked with his bow. From behind the door comes loud banging and cursing, both intended for him. It’s grown louder since he jammed the handle and raced to the edge of the roof, dragging Felicity by the hand along behind him. This entire trip has been dangerous, not to mention the fact that she’s not even supposed to be here, so he doesn’t understand what she means when she says they’re not in any danger.

A gunshot pings off the lock and Felicity jumps.

“You don’t call this imminent danger,” he deadpans, meeting her eyes through the smoke that’s getting thicker and thicker as they stand around arguing. He understands now what she’s trying to tell him, without actually telling him. Her glasses are slightly askew on her nose and she reaches a steady hand to straighten them.

She sighs loudly, hands dropping to her sides. “I don’t make the rules, Oliver. You know that.”

He rolls his eyes, because Felicity has been in his life for five years and he still doesn’t understand exactly how it works or what these so-called rules are.

All he knows is that she appeared suddenly, when he was facing almost certain death, and dragged him to safety, and she’s been doing much of the same ever since.

They aren’t friends, exactly. It’s not like they spend time together outside of the dangerous situations they find themselves in. He’s not going to deny that he finds her attractive, but it’s also not like he can do anything about it. Is she even human? He doesn’t know, and that question tops a very long list of things that he doesn’t know about Felicity.

Well, if he’s going to do this, then he’s going to get another answer out of her.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

She sighs dramatically, flinging a hand towards the door that’s nearly broken down and the smoke that’s quickly surrounding them. “Really, Oliver? Really?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches her carefully. Sometimes he learns more about her from what she doesn’t say, than what comes out of her mouth. His eyes drop down to her lips, which are today painted a bright red, and he wonders, not for the first time, what they would taste like.

Sensing that he’s not going to give in, she glances between the door and him a few times, before blowing out a large breath. “Ugh. You are so stubborn, Oliver Queen. It’s green.” She purses her lips as her arms cross over her chest.

He flashes her a grin, something that seems to only happen around her, and then takes a running start before leaping off the edge of the building. He vaguely hears the door crash open and footsteps scrambling across the gravel before his thoughts are more concerned with the fact that he’s currently plummeting ten storeys to his death.

Things start to move slower than normal. Which is actually kind of normal for some of these brink-of-death situations. Felicity’s blonde head peers out over the edge of the building, and she reminds him of an angel, all bright and glowing against the darkness surrounding her. He can’t look away, even as the air whips by him while he free-falls towards the ground.

Felicity disappears, and it would just be a figure of speech, only she actually disappears. He’s seen her do it and it’s no less startling now than it was then. He hopes that she’s planning to intervene soon, because he’s pretty sure the ground is getting uncomfortably close.

Oh. There it is.

There’s a warm, tugging sensation in his navel, he’s surrounded by the smell of vanilla, and then… nothing.

Everything goes dark, and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up groggily in his bed, and Felicity is gone.

***

Felicity's in the middle of a particularly interesting episode of Doctor Who, paired with a vintage red and a bowl of mint chocolate chip, when she’s dragged through the darkness to a dingy warehouse in Starling City.

“Are you kidding me?” Her voice echoes in the large, empty space, and she winces, because who knows what kind of situation she’s suddenly arrived in.

Speaking of. Where is her surly, leather-clad danger magnet, AKA the man she’s been irrevocably linked to since that fateful day five years ago. Usually when she appears he’s in the immediate vicinity, and on one memorable occurrence, right beneath her. That had definitely been interesting. And sweaty.

Cheeks flushing, she turns in a full circle, inspecting her surroundings, but the whole place appears empty.

Strange.

Why is she here if he’s not? She’s never been Pulled someplace where Oliver wasn’t in some kind of danger. It’s kind of the whole point of this entire arrangement.

“Oliver?”

No response, except for a rustling that sounds suspiciously like a rodent and she will not be heading in that direction any time soon.

The other way it is.

She sets out slowly, trying to be quiet, but she’s really never been a graceful person. Obviously she trips over absolutely nothing and stumbles into a stack of crates that go crashing unceremoniously to the ground, making enough noise for anybody in a ten-block radius to hear.

“Frack,” she mutters, dust clinging to her entire body as it floats through the air. She coughs, a hand held to her mouth. Who even knows what’s living here, or what was inside those crates? This isn’t the cleanest building she’s ever been in. It’s not passing any health codes anytime soon.

A thud makes her jump, then dart behind the pile of upturned crates for cover. She hopes that it’s Oliver. It’s absolutely weird that he’s not here and while she’s been trying not to focus on it, it’s kind of freaking her out. It’s not normal.

Peeking out from around the side, she doesn’t see anyone, and wonders if she’s just imagined it. Or maybe it’s that rodent from earlier. Although rodents generally didn’t have a large enough body mass to make a sound loud enough to-

“Arghhhh!”

“Felicity?”

Oliver quickly releases her neck, and her hand rises to her throat as she stares at him with wide eyes. Her heart pounds in her chest, which is completely because he startled her and went all ‘grr’. Definitely not because he’s dressed in his suit and it clings to him in all the right places. His hood is up, meaning that she can’t make out his face, but from the set of his shoulders, he’s both on edge and punishing himself for grabbing her.

“I’m okay,” she quickly says in response, dropping her hand back to her side. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Can I hurt you?” he asks, which is a question she doesn’t want to learn the answer to, so she ignores it completely.

“What are we doing here?” She steps towards him, away from the wreckage behind her. “Where were you?”

He shifts his weight. “I’m hunting down a lead. Just finished searching the upstairs office areas, but came up empty.”

“So where to now, boss?”

“There’s one more area to check, at the back,” he tells her, shaking his head at her nickname. He’s long since learned that it’s pointless to keep things from her. About the mission. Personal information on the other hand…

She swings out a hand in an elaborate gesture. “Lead the way.”

He strides past her in a blur of green and she hurries to keep up with him. Man, his legs are long. And it’s been ages since she even set foot in a gym, or laced up a shoe that was meant for something other than casual wear. Maybe she should look into that, she muses. It might be handy if she was more in shape.

“All right, what are we looking for,” she asks once they reach their destination.

Which turns out to be a sketchy room filled with a bunch of science-y type machines. It appears as though whoever was here last left in quite a rush, because containers and papers are scattered everywhere, with one table completely cleared, like it was swept into a container and taken away.
She points out this last observation to him and he curses.

“What are you looking for here, Oliver?”

“Proof,” he growls.

She waits expectantly, one eyebrow raised. He’ll eventually spill if she waits long enough.

Unfortunately, a loud crash from the main area of the warehouse halts their stalemate.

“Fuck.”

He nocks an arrow and edges towards the doorway.

She crowds in behind him. “Who is it?” There’s just darkness from what she can see, but there’s clearly people moving around there.

“No one we want to run into. Time to leave,” he says, grabbing her by the hand.

Leaving sounds great to her, especially without any kind of death-defying tricks needed. She wonders again why she was Pulled here, because he doesn’t even seem to need her. The change since she first appeared is interesting, though. Now he just seems to accept that she shows up randomly, and moves on with whatever he’s doing.

It warms something inside of her, that feeling of belonging. It’s something that she’s never felt before.

They almost make it without drawing attention to themselves. But then one of the people down below catches sight of them, and Oliver curses again. She thinks they’d been headed for some kind of back door, but he changes track and races up a flight of stairs that she’s unsure can actually hold their combined weight.

But it does, and they find themselves outside, the cool night air an invigorating balm on her face.

When she turns around Oliver’s jamming his bow through the handle of the door, ramming it shut, and she can hear clanging footsteps growing closer by the second.

“Okay, I need some more information here, Oliver,” she says, voice a little more panicked than she wishes. She might be able to get out of here, but she’s much more concerned about Oliver. “You just jammed your bow into that door handle!”

“It’s fine, Felicity, it’s my practice bow.” He turns to survey their surroundings. “I needed to keep them out so that we can get out of here.”

“I can get out of here whenever I want,” she shouts. “It’s you I’m concerned about.”

He doesn’t respond, peering over the edge in hopes of finding a ladder or something, she figures. This building doesn’t seem like the kind to have fire escapes. Or fire extinguishers. Or any kind of safety feature, really.

Which means she needs to think. Why is she here? He’s in danger, yes, but not any imminent danger right now, just standing on this roof with her. So she can’t really do anything at all. She’s just here for no reason, wringing her hands like a damsel in distress, when she’s anything but. She’s an MIT graduate for goodness sake, not to mention Oliver’s protector. This is what she was born to do. She can outthink any situation.

She’s Felicity Smoak.

And then it comes to her, suddenly, as most of her ideas do.

“Oliver,” she calls, and he turns to face her. She meets his eyes solemnly, to show him that she’s completely serious. The sounds of their assailants grow louder as they wait, and there’s no time to waste. “You need to jump.”

***

Five years earlier

He can’t believe that he’s back on goddamn Lian Yu. It’s been a year of tribulations in Russia, but it’s time to put his plan into action. It’s just shitty that his plan includes going back to the island of his nightmares and pretending that he’d been there the entire time.

Stalking through the underbrush, Oliver is mostly lost in his own thoughts, until an unfamiliar sound makes him stop in his tracks.

He’s lived on this island, in danger, in fear for his life, for long enough now that he’s completely attuned to his surroundings. It’s nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him, especially when he’s in the middle of a forest, with the ground littered with branches and leaves. So the sound of someone indelicately trekking through the surrounding forest makes him pause.

There shouldn’t be anyone here. Not anymore.

His mind jumps from threat to threat, wondering who tracked him down, who’s trying to kill him now. There’s no way that he’s going to let anyone hurt him anymore. He’s a monster and while he might not be exactly ready to go back to Starling City, he’s also not ready to die on a rock in the middle of the ocean.

So he stalks towards the sound, drawing a knife into his hand as he moves. Whoever it is is making so much noise that he doesn't even need to be especially stealthy. Which makes it all the more strange, because if someone was sent here to kill him, they would need to be good.

When he emerges from the brush and onto the beach, he stops abruptly in his tracks because - what?
What the actual fuck.

There’s a blonde girl, wearing rectangular glasses, standing at the edge of the forest. She’s looking all around, out at the ocean, towards the mountains in the distance, a forlorn look on her face. She appears to be completely lost, but there’s no wreckage of a ship or a plane for her to have come from.

She turns, continuing to survey her surroundings, and her eyes widen when she catches sight of him.

Is that relief on her face?

He does’t say anything. Who is this girl? She appears to be lost, but he knows better than to judge people by their appearances. Even if they’re wearing a sweater with holes and MIT written across the chest, and leggings that encapsulate shapely legs.

But God, does she just look normal. Normal. It hits him a bit in the gut, that this seemingly normal girl is standing here, on the beach on a nightmareish island, with him. And it just seems wrong. This is not a safe place, not a place for anyone who appears and bright and innocent as she does, all blonde and tiny and confused.

She takes a step towards him, eyes bright and focused on his face, and he instinctively takes a step back.

It makes no sense that she would be here with no agenda. So if she’s actually real, and he’s still not totally convinced, then she’s the enemy. Everyone is the enemy.

“Who are you,” he growls, fingering the knife in his pocket. “How did you get here?”

Her lips part, and he feels something stir to life inside of him, where he’s locked up most of what makes him Oliver Queen, but before he can examine that any closer or she can get a word out, there’s a familiar whistling sound, and then pain explodes in his chest.

And then he’s on the ground, the sand damp beneath his cheek, and he catches a flash of blonde, before whispered words catch his attention.

God, he’s been taken down by a tiny blonde girl. With no weapons. She hadn’t had a bow, and he’s most definitely been shot with an arrow. It’s a familiar, yet unwelcome, pain that lances across his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Oh come on, not now.” The whisper comes from nearby, and he tries to move, to follow her voice because he’s not dead yet, and he’ll be damned if he goes out like this, after everything he’s been through, but he can’t seem to find her.

Heavy footsteps close in. Footsteps that can’t belong to her. He manages to turn his head, and there are dark combat boots striding his way.

That can’t be good.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem able to do anything about it, and soon everything fades away.

The last thing he’s aware of is a tingling around his navel and the scent of… vanilla?

***

He comes to suddenly, which is a common thing nowadays. The luxury of gradually awakening, your senses coming to life one by one, is something of the past. And since he’s suddenly awake, he’s quite certain of a couple things.
One. He’s not dead. Two, he’s alone. Three, he’s in a cave that he’s certainly never been in before.

How the hell did he get here?

Pushing himself to a seated position, the pain in his shoulder reminds him of what went down. He’d been shot. Again. And that strange blonde girl, who’d seemed lost but coincidentally had appeared just when his life was in danger.

There’s no one here now, blonde or otherwise, and while he’s still been shot with an arrow, it’s now neatly bandaged and seems to be on the mend.

Had she taken care of him? Somehow dragged him into this cave and administered first aid?

The idea seems ludicrous, but facts are facts. He was shot. He was bandaged up. There was a blonde girl.

The last one makes him question himself though. Was there really a girl? Has he just been alone for too long, and his brain brought her to life? It’s not like she’d told him anything. Or even touched him. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more likely it is that he imagined her. That he managed to get himself here, to safety, and took care of his wound himself, before passing out from pain. It’s something he’s done before, so it’s not like it’s completely out of the question.

It’s definitely more likely than a strange girl appearing in the middle of Lian Yu.

Shaking his head, he puts it down to a wild daydream, and leaves it at that. He soon forgets about her altogether, when the shooter from before appears, determined to finish the job.

Chapter Text

It’s been a day.

That’s really the only way to describe it. There is no word in the English language that could accurately depict the multitude of crap that’s gone down in the past 24 hours. And Felicity knows lots of words. All of the words.

Slamming the front door feels good, for just a moment, but when the framed photo of her and her mom crashes to the floor leaving an empty nail on the wall, Felicity can’t help the strangled scream that escapes her.

Because it’s just perfect. Just one more thing that’s gone wrong today. What’s one more, really? It’s not like she feels like she’s drowning, like she can’t catch her breath or a break or even a damn piece of debris in a turbulent ocean.

She debates leaving the broken photo. Hauling out cleaning supplies and picking up shards of glass is definitely not at the top of her to do list, but she can just imagine herself stepping on it and being even more annoyed at herself later on, so she shuffles over to the broom closet to gather supplies.

Her mind wanders as she tidies up the shards of glass. While the picture has hung on her wall since she moved into this apartment over three years ago, she doesn’t normally pay it much attention. It’s from her graduation, so Felicity is only nineteen, still a brunette, and woefully ignorant about the real world. She’s arm in arm with her mom, who’s smiling brighter than the sun. That day had been a good one, full of promise and anticipation for the future. But as much as Felicity had believed herself prepared and ready to handle any situation, today has shown that she’s nowhere near ready to run this company.

Or so the board believes.

Because she’s young. A woman. Inexperienced.

Mostly the first two, because she’s not really inexperienced, unless you compare her to two thirds of the board, who are probably past retirement age and just holding on to spite her. But she is female, and the board is comprised of old men who struggle to see her as a competent replacement to the CEO.

It seems that no matter what she says or does, she can’t change their minds, and it is absolutely infuriating because there is no question that she has earned and deserves this. Anger and frustration stir inside of her once again, but honestly, Felicity is so tired that there’s no way she’s going to put any more effort into this problem tonight. No. Tonight she needs to relax and unwind and think about things that make her happy, rather than things that make her blood boil.

Once she’s dumped the glass in a double bag, she lets out a sigh of relief. Now she can properly wallow. Propping the now frameless photo up on the kitchen counter, she gives her clueless, innocent self one more glance. Then she heads to change out of the professional yet totally uncomfortable outfit she’d chosen for today, pulling on her softest sweatpants and a cozy hooded sweatshirt left over from her MIT days. It’s an outfit that screams comfort, and she pushes her bedroom window open a bit for some fresh air, before making her way to the kitchen with a singular goal.

Wine makes everything better.

Red wine to be specific.

Well, it doesn’t really make everything better, but does help her to relax at the end of a shitty day. Plus it’s delicious and she’s an adult and she doesn’t have to verify her choices to anyone.

Curling up on the couch with a full glass, Felicity debates flicking on the TV, but does she really have the energy to focus on anything? Not really. Maybe a mindless episode of something she’s seen before. Just for some background noise, because she may live in a busy apartment building, but it’s generally very quiet.

She’s just found a marathon of old episodes of a sitcom she used to watch in college when strains of something perforate the fog in her head.

What the hell is that sound? It’s vaguely musical, yet completely tuneless. Someone’s ringtone?

It’ll stop soon though, she assures herself. Her apartment borders the street, and sometimes pedestrian sounds make it all the way up to the second floor. More than likely it’s just someone walking by. And singing. Loudly. And badly. But whatever, to each their own, she figures, taking another large gulp from her glass.

But it doesn’t stop. In fact, it gets louder. And more insistent, if she’s not mistaken, as though this person needs someone to hear them.

And she’s got to be honest, she’s a little bit curious. It takes a good amount of confidence to attempt to sing so loudly. In public.

So she hustles over to the living room windows, but they’re still firmly closed, and she can’t see anyone when she peeks through gap in her patterned curtains. Bedroom it is then. They’re the only other windows in her apartment.

Her bedroom is softly lit from the bedside lamp she forgot to turn off earlier, so she edges into the room, trying not to be seen.

Although the person outside is not trying to be subtle. At all.

The singing, and it is singing she can now determine, is most definitely coming from outside her window. It’s a male voice, if she’s not mistaken, determined to hit every single note, good or bad. They’re mostly bad, she thinks, wincing at a particularly offensive note. Felicity’s no singer either, but she can hardly recognize the song through the terribly off-tune singing.

She’s got so many questions, not least of all, who. Who is serenading her empty bedroom window? It’s no one she knows. She’s almost a hundred percent certain, because her dating life has been woefully dry for the past year, and she has a distinct lack of male friends in Starling. Plus there’s absolutely no way any of her coworkers would do this. Is it a prank? A poorly executed singing telegram?

Mysteries bug her, always have, always will, so she continues to creep to the window, attempting to stay unseen so she can get a glimpse of the person, without them seeing her. She’s mostly successful, and gives herself a mental pat on the back because she’s certainly not the most agile person, and then realizes that with the curtains closed she won’t be able to see anything.

Well, she’s come this far. Reaching out, she parts them just enough so that she can peer out, but anyone outside won’t be able to see her. Sure enough, there’s a guy standing underneath her bedroom window. It’s dark out, but the streetlights illuminate enough that she can see he’s built, with muscular shoulders and a broad chest, and dressed in jeans and a brown leather jacket. Her heart beats a little bit quicker before she mentally chastises herself. It’s all a mistake. It’s not like this incredibly attractive human is actually here to serenade her.

She lets out a deep sigh, which must ruffle the curtain or something, because he suddenly perks up, standing taller and belting out a new song in an even louder voice, if possible. The words travel more clearly to hear ears, and even off-tune as they are, she can’t help but let out a laugh as she recognizes the song.

Then he stops. It’s silent for a moment, like he’s waiting for something to happen, and then he’s shouting up at her window.

“Come on, Sara. I know you’re there. Just come and talk to me so I can get this over with.”

Felicity pauses. Sara. Of course. She knew he wasn’t at the right place, yet a tiny part of her had hoped…

“Sara!” he shouts again. “Cut it out. I did it, you could at least acknowledge that I’ve completely made an ass of myself.”

She peers down and watches as he shoves his hands in his pockets and glares up in the direction of her window. He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, just waiting for Sara, so Felicity figures she’d better set him straight. She pushes the curtains to the side and lifts the window open, leaning out slightly so that he can see her.

“Hi,” she calls, with a little wave. “Um, not Sara’s apartment.”

He splutters for a moment. And possibly blushes, although it’s too dark to tell for sure. “Shit.”

Propping her elbows, she cocks her head to the side. “You know, that was some singing. You’re very confident. I can see why,” she adds with a vague hand gesture at him. “I mean, you’re a confident singer. And what an interesting song choice, too.” She purses her lips, trying to hide her smile. But it feels too damn good to smile after the day she’s had, so it slowly creeps across her face until it’s too wide to hide.

He rolls his eyes. “It was a dare,” he blurts out. “I lost a bet and my sister dared me to serenade Sara and she picked the song…”

“Sara’s window is two to the right,” Felicity says, jerking her thumb in the direction of her neighbour’s apartment.

He nods slowly, scanning the building. “Fuck,” he says after a long pause. “Thea said third window from the left, not the right. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You didn’t bother me,” she blurts out. Then she can’t seem to stop talking. “This was absolutely the last thing that could have bothered me after the day that I had. Honestly, it was a really shitty day. Did you know that apparently woman can’t be successful on their own merit, no matter how many degrees they have or even that they’re more intelligent than most of their supervisors?” She takes a deep breath then barrels on without giving him any time to respond. “Plus, did you know that if you spill salad dressing on your clothes, the oil mark will never come out? Never! And that your boss will just add that to the list of reasons he’s going to pass you over for a promotion that you most definitely deserve. Just because you’re a woman and he’s intimidated and he doesn’t want to look like a foolish idiot when a woman half his age can do a better job than he can.”

Huh. Maybe she drank more wine than she realized.

Below her, the mystery serenader stares up at her, his mouth slightly open. There’s a look in his eyes that she can’t identify, and she flushes, embarrassed. She scrubs her hands over her face, and finds that they come away wet. Is she crying? She doesn’t cry about work stuff, as a general rule, because it’s a good way for her coworkers to explain away that she’s weak or too emotional or whatever. And she is most definitely not.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to unload that all on you. I just-”

“Oliver, you idiot. What the hell are you doing out there?”

A new voice joins the fray, and Felicity glances to her left to see another blonde head peering outside. The woman looks over and notices Felicity and her face brightens.

“Felicity!”

“Hey, Sara,” she says with a little wave.

Sara’s gaze runs over her face, probably taking note of her red eyes and wet cheeks. “Sorry if Oliver bothered you,” she says, with a sharp glance down. “Can’t take him anywhere.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I just had a rough day.”

Oliver remains silent for a moment, and Sara purses her lips, eyes still on Felicity, before turning back to him. “Was this what Thea was hinting at today? She’s been sending me cryptic messages all afternoon.”

He shrugs. “Probably. I lost a bet and she made me serenade you with her favourite Disney song.” He glances over at Felicity before looking back at Sara. “I, uh, got the wrong window.”

“Well, obviously,” Sara replies. “That’s Felicity. My neighbour.”

Oliver nods slowly, and Felicity’s heart jumps when he looks back at her and their eyes meet. She should feel embarrassed, she thinks. She basically just ranted about work politics and gender stereotypes to a complete stranger, and to top it all off cried about it, but for some reason, the look in his eyes makes her feel safe to do those things.

“Well, all right then,” Sara says, startling Felicity out of her thoughts and breaking the silence. Felicity glances over at her, and finds her neighbour looking between Oliver and herself with a thoughtful look her on her face. “Oliver, I need to talk to you. I’ll buzz you up.”

She disappears into her window without waiting for a response and the sound of it shutting echoes into the night. Oliver turns back to Felicity, and she bites her lip as his eyes track gently over her face. She must look like a wreck, she figures.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he says so softly she has to strain to hear it.

“Thanks,” she replies, because what else can she say?

Sara’s window opens again. “Oliver,” she barks. “Come on!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he shouts at her in a completely different tone. “I’m coming.” He waves to Felicity and strides away and around the corner to the front door of the building.

Sara watches him go, then turns to her. “Sorry again, Felicity. My friends can be great, but hopefully he didn’t bother you too much.”

Felicity shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, Sara. It’s fine.”

With a jaunty wave, Sara disappears into her apartment again, and Felicity does the same, firmly shutting her window behind her. While Sara’s around the same age as Felicity, they don’t cross paths very often. Sara’s a bartender and works nights, while Felicity’s job is mainly a 9-5. They are the type of neighbours who exchange polite greetings at the communal mailbox or who you ask to borrow sugar or eggs when you run out, but that’s about it. They’re not friends, really, although Felicity has run into Sara at the bar she works at once or twice. She seems like a very straightforward, confident person.

Felicity wonders the relationship between Oliver and Sara. She’s only seen women leaving Sara’s apartment, leading her to believe that’s her preference, but…

She firmly stops that train of thought. Because firstly, it’s none of her business what her neighbour prefers. Plus, she doesn’t even know Oliver, and she most definitely doesn’t care what his situation is.

She’s just settled back on the couch with a new glass of wine when there’s a knock on her door.

Good grief. There’s been more excitement in her apartment in the last hour than there’s been in the last year, she thinks, heading to the door. Who could be knocking at this time of night?

When she opens it, she finds Oliver standing on the other side, an uncertain look on his face and his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Hi,” she stays, a bit startled to find him there. Plus, he’s about a hundred times more good looking up close. And in proper lighting. How are his eyes so insanely blue?

“Hi,” he replies, shifting his weight back and forth. “Sorry for coming over here out of nowhere, but I- I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His eyes dart all over before settling back onto her own. Something inside of her swoops, sending her pulse racing and she swallows thickly. “It sounded like you had a hard day, which I know a little bit about, and I know we don’t know each other at all, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you…”

“Usually I’m the one talking in long, rambling sentences,” is what comes out of her mouth.

His lips twitch, and hers curve in response.

“I’m Felicity,” she finally says.

“Oliver.” He reaches out a hand and she clasps it, his hand engulfing her own. She stares at their linked hands for a moment, before dragging her eyes away and back to his.

From the way he’s looking at her, he doesn’t seem to care that she’s wearing a ratty old sweatshirt, or that her makeup has likely made her look like a raccoon, or even that she cried at him from her second floor window. It makes her feel all warm inside and she can’t help the tiny shiver that races down her spine.

“You’re a really terrible singer,” she finally says, because things are getting a bit too heavy.

He huffs out a laugh and the tips of his ears turn red. “I know. That’s why my sister dared me to serenade Sara. She knew it would be embarrassing. Although I don’t think she could have imagined quite this outcome.”

Felicity hums in response and lets her thumb trace over his knuckles. Then she realizes that they’re still holding hands in the hallway of her apartment, and abruptly drops her arm back to her side. He slowly lowers his, shifting his weight back and forth uncomfortably.

“Well, I guess I should get going,” Oliver says, hiking a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the stairs.

Felicity nods. Then says, “do you want to come in?” instead of goodbye.

He freezes, staring at her, his mouth a tiny circle.

Her brain catches up to what most people mean when they ask someone into their apartment late at night, and she scrambles to explain. “I mean, not like that. Not that you were thinking that either. I don’t mean to have sex. Or anything sexual. Not that I have anything against that, you’re free to do what you want. As am I. I just meant to talk. Real talking. The getting to know each other sort of talking. Not a euphemism of any kind,” she finishes firmly, eyes rolling heavenward before returning to find him staring at her, like she’s a puzzle he’d like to solve.

“I’d love to come in, Felicity,” he responds, and she steps back to let him enter.

Chapter Text

1 New Message

Unknown Number: where am i now??

Open Attachment?

It’s only by chance that Oliver glances at his phone on his way from one soul crushing meeting to the next. It’s been a chaotic day, with investors backing out and last minute budget additions, not to mention clients who insist on changes in the last stages of their projects, and Oliver is just glad to have a moment to himself as he waits for the elevator to arrive on the thirtieth floor. His phone chimes and though he’s working through a series of breathing exercises meant to keep his blood pressure stable and his mind alert and on-task, he swipes the screen open without a second thought.

As his eyes scan the message, confusion arises. It’s from an unknown number and the message is cryptic, if not intriguing. Plus, there’s an attachment. His thumb hovers over the download button, but before touching it, Thea’s voice rings in his head.

“Ollie! You can’t just download whatever you feel like! God, there’s like, a hundred viruses on this thing. How do you even stand it?”

Thea had borrowed the laptop he keeps at home last week to finish a school project, but she’d been absolutely outraged when it had taken nearly ten minutes to start up, and another ten to open the program she’d needed to use. In a fit of rage, she’d slammed the lid shut and headed for the library, tossing an insult that for someone who dealt with technology on a daily basis, he was pretty clueless when it came to his own belongings.

Still. He can’t deny that he’s not curious about it.

But what if it’s a virus, says a little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Thea.

But what if it’s not, he argues back.

But—

Decisively he presses his thumb and the attachment immediately loads.

It’s a photo.

It’s one of those photos meant to look like a postcard, with a smaller picture in the top corner that’s shaped like a stamp.

The larger picture is easy enough to identify. It’s the fountain in the square downtown, near Jitters. He’s not a huge coffee person, but when he wants one that isn’t the sludge that his company claims is coffee, that’s where he goes. His eyes narrow in on the tinier photo.

It’s hard to make out, but it appears to be a person. A blonde person, possibly a woman. All he can see is her forehead and eyebrows, arched as though daring him to come find her.

Something inside of him stirs, awakening as though it hadn’t even known it had been lulled to sleep in the first place. It makes his pulse quicken, the anticipation of something he can’t quite name brought to life by this tiny image.

Oliver’s pretty sure he doesn’t know her. He mentally runs through the blondes that he knows, that he’s met or dated or interacted with at work. The list is short as he excludes women who are too old or have the wrong colouring.

Then he pauses. Why is a stranger sending him what is basically an invitation to play hide and seek? Or some kind of weird scavenger hunt?

And then, although his life has an exercise in predictability up to this point, he abruptly turns and throws open the door to the stairs.

He’s going to find her.

Wild goose chase be damned.

***

He arrives in the square out of breath and more than slightly sweaty. He prides himself on being in shape, but the last few months have made it more than difficult to get to the gym and his body is now cursing him.

Scanning the square, he squints against the glare of the mid afternoon sun, but doesn’t see anyone who could be his mystery blonde. His stomach sinks, because something inside of him had desperately wanted to catch a glimpse of her, had wanted answers to the questions swirling inside of him. He’s so lost in thought that he almost doesn’t hear his phone chime in quick succession from his pocket.

3 New Messages

Unknown Number: TOO SLOW! once again, point for me, sucka

Unknown Number: but this one is trickier, i swear

Unknown Number: whoops forgot to attach it…

Open Attachment?

Oliver reads all three messages and chuckles to himself. It's now apparent that this girl, whoever she is, clearly thinks she’s texting someone else.

Should he respond? And tell her that she’s got the wrong number? He should definitely respond and tell her that she’s got the wrong number.

Instead, he opens the attachment, which is another one of those postcard photos. This time he zeroes in on the tiny stamp picture, the phone screen almost touching his nose as he tries to discern what he can.

It’s a selfie again, a term he knows really only thanks to Thea, but this time he can see more of her. Her blonde hair is pulled back from her face, and her eyes are blue, he thinks, but it’s hard to tell because she’s got on rectangular glasses that are reflecting the sun. She’s not looking at the camera, but just beyond it, like something had distracted her at the last minute.

It’s that look of amusement that draws him in, that makes him want to know more. Know who she is, what she’s looking at… He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so invigorated, so in the moment, in a really long time.

He has to pause to identify the larger photo, but once he notices the storefront on the left he knows exactly where she is.

He takes off, shaking his head as his chest heaves. It’s only a few blocks away. Maybe she’ll be there this time.

***

She’s not.

The street is completely empty when he arrives, but his phone chimes almost immediately that he wonders if she’s waited around to see him arrive.

Then he shakes his head at himself because she has no idea that she’s even texting him. She probably thinks whoever she’s meant to text is being a dick. Or, possibly, this is just how this game works. Well, he figures this is a game of some kind.

2 New Messages

Unknown Number: i swear you are getting worse at this barry

Unknown Number: you’re not mad are you? it’s just a game. i promise not to tell iris that you suck at this.

There’s no attachment this time. Maybe she forgot again. Oliver waits around, shifting from foot to foot on the sidewalk, but after five minutes nothing’s come through.

Should he send her a message back? Is she waiting for her friend, this Barry person, to respond before she sends the next clue?

If he sends her a message back though, she’ll realize that it’s not Barry she’s been texting. She’ll probably stop messaging him completely.

He hums and haws for another minute, before drafting up a brief reply.

To: Unknown Number

Not mad. Also not Barry. Standing outside Big Belly but I need another clue.

Before he can hit send, another message arrives.

1 New Message

Unknown Number: all right fine. here’s your next clue. one more and then drinks are on you

Open Attachment?

Oliver immediately opens the photo. This time, she’s not in the picture and his heart sinks. Studying the screen, he tries to figure out where she is now. There’s just a lot of green, everywhere. Central Park is his first thought, but there aren’t that many trees there. It’s more of an open field, with newly planted trees here and there.

He recalls Thea zooming in on a celebrity’s outfit to determine the brand and uses his fingers to successfully enlarge the photo. The excited yell he lets out would be slightly embarrassing if there was anyone around to see. Which there isn’t. Thank God.

Oliver plays around with the photo until he notices a pair of shoes. Green chucks. Something about them just fits with what he knows so far. But if her feet made it into the picture… That would mean that he’s not looking at treetops, but the ground. Maybe bushes? There is a more secluded bushy area at the park. He’s pretty sure he used to take Thea to the playground right near there.

Can’t hurt to look since he has absolutely no other ideas.

His heart races. If he’s right, then maybe he’s going to actually catch up to her this time.

***

He hasn’t even made it to the park yet when his phone chimes with another new message, then more in quick succession.

4 New Messages

Unknown Number: you know what, barry, i am working very hard to make this stupid idea of yours fun and you can’t even manage to respond to any of these messages?

Unknown Number: wait. is everything ok?

Unknown Number: barry?

Unknown Number: i’m calling you.

Oliver’s phone rings suddenly and he jumps and his phone makes a maniacal leap from his hands. He performs what might be a feat of gymnastics to stop it from smashing into pieces on the pavement and leaps to his feet, phone held high above his head.

“Nailed it!” he announces aloud.

A woman passing by gives him a look over the top of her glasses and skirts around him with more space than necessary.

Then he remembers that his phone is ringing. His mystery girl is calling him. Should he answer? He’s not her friend, and she sounded worried. He should let her know that she has the wrong number, right? Even if it will bring this game to an end. He doesn’t want her to think her friend, this Barry person, is hurt or something.

Sighing, he swipes to accept the call. “He-”

“Oh my gosh, Barry, you do have your phone, you dumb idiot. I’ve been texting you all afternoon, doing this stupid photo scavenger hunt that you made me agree to. Why haven’t you responded? I hope you’ve been following along, this was your idea in the first place, and I am going to win this time. I’ve been imagining the drinks you’re going to make for me all day. Think margaritas. With freshly squeezed limes, obviously, and that expensive tequila you refuse to let me drink when I come over, and-”

“Not Barry,” Oliver interrupts, before she can go any further into what was an impressively long run-on sentence.

There’s a long pause. For a moment he’s concerned that she’s hung up on him, and he’s incredibly disappointed because now that he’s heard her voice he’s even more intrigued. She’s nothing like anybody he’s ever met before.

“Who is this?” Her tone changes dramatically, from warm and joking to cold and concerned. “Where is Barry?”

Oliver chews on his lip before responding. “I don’t know.” She gasps sharply, and he hurries to explain. “I mean, I don’t know who Barry is.” She still doesn’t answer, so he just keeps talking. Apparently he’s adopted her babbling already. “I think you maybe texted the wrong number by accident. I’ve gotten all your messages today and followed all the clues, but I haven’t made it to the park yet-”

“Who is this?” she demands again, thankfully interrupting his spiralling brain. Honestly, what is wrong with him today?It’s like he’s a completely different person.

“My name is Oliver. Queen.”

“Ohmygod.”

Then silence.

“Hello?” he asks eventually, after checking the screen to see that the call is still connected.

A long sigh echoes down the line. “Still here. Just completely embarrassed that I’ve been texting my boss’s son ridiculous pictures all day.”

“You work at QC?”

“Yep. Hopefully I still do, anyways, after acting like an idiot all day when I really should be working on this security project for- you know what, not important. Anyways, I’m sorry that I took over your afternoon, Oliver. Bye.”

She’s gone before he can even get another word out.

***

He goes to the park, but she’s not there. Of course.

Dejected, he heads back to the office, phone silent in his pocket the entire time. He wishes that she hadn’t hung up on him, because talking to her had been one of the most interesting conversations, if you could call it that, that he’s had in a long time. It’s been awhile since he’s been so intrigued by somebody.

It’s not until later, when he’s sitting in a meeting that seems to have no apparent end in sight, that the idea even occurs to him.

She works at QC.

It might be a big company, but Felicity isn’t really a common name. He bets that he can track down what department she works in…

“Mr. Queen?”

Ms. Banks, the head of hiring in HR, stares pointedly at him, clearly waiting for his response to something. His stomach lurches uncomfortably, because he doesn’t like being caught off guard and he never drifts off during board meetings. Today has completely thrown him for a loop.

“Sorry, could you just repeat that one more time,” he asks, and though she looks confused, she acquiesces.

“We’re discussing movement in the IT department,” she says. “With the opening of the Applied Sciences division, some of the staff would better serve the company there, rather than in IT. The head of the department has put some names forward, but they need your approval before anything is finalized.”

Oliver nods. Of course, he thinks. That’s why he’s in this meeting in the first place, to hammer down the finer points of the expansion and figure out how much outside hiring needs to happen, in order to ensure both departments don’t lose any ground.

“Of course, Ms. Banks. Let’s see the proposal.”

She slides a stack of folders across the table to him, and he glances through the first few. They’re all clearly qualified for the IT department, but according to Mr. Hawthorne, the head of IT, would be beneficial in building the Applied Sciences division.

He nods in agreement, looking up while he opens the last folder. “Mr. Hawthorne seems to have everything sorted,” he says. “The candidates seem to be appropriate choices and…”

The words die as he looks down at the final folder.

It’s her.

Felicity.

Her staff picture is clearly a few years old. She looks younger, but she’s wearing the same glasses. The same small smile. The same mischievous glint in her eyes.

Felicity Smoak.

“Mr. Queen?”

He immediately snaps the folder shut, itching to move, to go. To find her and talk to her in person. “This all seems in order, Ms. Banks. I approve the staff changes, so let’s go forward with the transfers and appointments, and get started on filling any positions left empty by the movement.” She looks slightly taken aback by his brusque words, but he’s too busy rising to his feet and re-buttoning his suit jacket to really take notice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s something I need to see to.”

He strides out of the room, and takes the elevator to the IT department, thoughts running wild.

What does he say to her? He hopes she’s not weirded out that he figured out who she is, that he’s on his way to IT. She’s awakened this spontaneity inside of him, because he’s never been this guy, this person who just does things without thinking them through and mentally calculating all the potential risks and hazards.

And then he’s at her cubicle. It’s labelled with her name and everything.

The panicked thoughts rushing around in his head go quiet.

He takes a tentative step forward, edging into her area, and finally, there she is in front of him. She’s dressed for the office, a pale pink blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, but under the desk he can see a hint of green, and he recalls the bit of her shoes he’d been able to see in the last picture.

Hesitating, he wonders if he’s supposed to knock or… He doesn’t really know. He’s never visited someone in a cubicle. He kind of figured she would hear him come in, but she’s extremely focused on whatever she’s working on, a red pen between her brightly painted lips, her eyes fastened on her computer screen.

“Felicity Smoak,” he says, because if he doesn’t say something first she’s going to notice him creepily standing there and completely freak her out. “Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.”

She jerks to attention, turning to face him. Her mouth falls open, her eyes wide and definitely blue behind those rectangular glasses. She pulls the pen from her lips and gestures wildly at him.

“Of course! I know who you are, you’re Mr. Queen!”

“No,” he interrupts, because even though hundreds of people call him Mr. Queen every day, it seems wrong coming from her. “Mr. Queen was my father.”

“Right, but he’s dead. I mean he drowned. And you are here, in the IT department. Listening to me babble. Which will end… in 3…2…1.”

He can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face. It’s unconscious, and he thinks he’s maybe smiled more today than he has in the past year. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, like she’s waiting for him to say something, and he realizes that he has absolutely no reason to be down here, except that he wanted to meet her in person.

So he says, “I heard you won some kind of scavenger hunt.”

And she smiles, a little less nervously, at him. “Well, I didn’t actually win, because it turns out that I was texting the wrong person the entire day.”

“I still think you earned your prize,” he says. “What was it, drinks of your choice?”

She nods. “Yeah, my friend Barry works at this place in the Glades called Verdant as a bartender, and he’s honestly the best bartender ever. He’s always whipping up new recipes and his boss keeps adding them to the menu. It’s a pretty sweet place, actually, have you ever been?”

Shaking his head, he laughs inwardly. “My friend Tommy actually owns Verdant.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, frantically tapping her pen on the edge of her desk, before letting out a loud sigh. “Oh my god, of course, Tommy Merlyn. Oliver Queen. Duh, Felicity. Get a grip.”

He smiles at her again. He can’t seem to stop smiling at her. “But you know, I haven’t been in ages. He keeps bugging me that I need to come, to check out the new menu…”

“You should,” she says, nodding frantically. “Definitely.”

There’s a long pause, and they just kind of stare at each other, and honestly, he used to be good at this.

“Do you maybe, uh, I mean the implication is that… Well-”

“And I thought I had the babbling problem,” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to speak slowly and clearly. “Would you like to get a drink sometime?”

“Yes.” She nods quickly. “I’d love to.”