Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oliver comes home to find Felicity on the couch, blanket over her head, wheelchair abandoned beside the coffee table.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

“Hiding from the world,” Felicity mutters, not bothering to remove the blanket.

He only pauses long enough to discard his jacket, then he’s climbing onto the couch and under the blanket with her. At her groan he pulls it back over their heads.

“And what did the world do to you today?” he asks softly, dragging his hands down her sides.

She groans again, but this time it sounds like it might be due to his hands and not whatever’s stressing her out. “The board’s just on me again. We’re doing better, but not by enough.” She looks over and, even though it’s dim under the blanket, he’s close enough to see her smile. “So I decided the adult thing to do was clearly to come home and hide under a blanket.”

“Clearly,” Oliver says, and amused smile pulling at his lips.

Felicity frowns and smacks him on the arm.

“Ow!” he complains, making a bigger deal out of it then necessary, but it makes her smile again, just like he knew it would.

“Are you making fun of me and my blanket fort?” She’s teasing, he knows, but she’s also worried about Palmer Tech and the board and she needs this moment with everything else going on in her life. So he does the only thing he ever wants to do when she’s upset, he tries to make her smile.

“Felicity…” he says softly, leaning in close. He hears her breath hitch, and can’t help the surge of pride that overwhelms him. He knows the effect he has on her, but it’s still a powerful thing, to know he can make her feel this way, just by whispering her name.

“Yes?” she breathes, leaning into him, too.

“This isn’t a blanket fort.”

Then he pulls back, hopping off the couch so fast it leaves her reeling.

“Ol…Oliver?”

He turns back to see her staring at him, eyes wide and thoroughly confused at his behavior. He can only grin back.

“I’ll be right back.”

It takes him almost half an hour and a lot of rearranging of furniture, but soon enough they’re sitting side by side in a nest of pillows and blankets, the only light coming from the fireplace before them.

Felicity sips the wine he’d handed her after helping her into the fort he’d made. “You’re right,” she admits with a slightly incredulous laugh. “This is definitely a better blanket fort.”

“What? You didn’t think I knew how to build a fort?” he says, an exaggerated expression of mock hurt on his face.

“Well, now I know you do!” she laughs, and the grin on her face is all the happiness Oliver could ever need. “My big, bad vigilante hero slash architect with a specialization in blankets. Maybe you’ve found your new calling.”

Oliver laughs and pulls her closer to his side. “My only calling is being here with you.”

He leans into her again, kissing her softly this time. Losing himself in his feelings for his tiny, blonde partner. When she pulls back there are tears in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers, but she doesn’t need to. Oliver can see the love practically shining from her.

“I love you, too,” he tells her, then leans back, staring at the fire for a moment. “Though, now I’m worried you might just be using me for my blanket fort skills.”

Felicity snorts, the sip of wine she’d just taken exploding from her lips and onto the blanket on her lap and then they’re both laughing and it’s all Oliver could ever need.

Chapter Text

Felicity leaned over the trash can, gagging and unable to catch her breath. She just hoped she’d managed to avoid getting vomit in her long, dark hair.

“That’s gross, you know.”

The disembodied voice sounded put out and Felicity turned to see a man—maybe a little older than her—wearing a pale blue button up, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He barely looked better than she was feeling, his clothes rumpled and his floppy hair sticking out all over the place.

He was standing at the end of the alley, leaning against the brick wall as people streamed past on the sidewalk behind him. The loud, obnoxiously eager crowd heading for the club’s entrance around the corner made her want to question her life choices, as did this stranger’s smarmy smile.

She’d just opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off when a wave of dizziness hit, followed by a tsunami of nausea. She grabbed the edge of the trash can, plastic digging into her palms, and forgot about everything except for how much she hated puking.

“Hey, hey,” she heard someone say, but didn’t realize it was the smarmy guy until he grabbed her hair and pulled it away from her face. She didn’t really feel like being touched at this moment, but she appreciated the save. She really didn’t want to have to pick vomit out of her hair on the cab ride back to MIT. She’d probably just end up puking again.

“You alright?” Smarmy Guy asked once she’d finished heaving. He stroked her hair back from her face, placing a steadying hand on her elbow.

When Felicity finally glanced up at him she was almost startled to realize he was handsome. Definitely not her type. She went more for the smart, mysterious loner type. This guy was clearly of the frat boy persuasion, with his bad haircut and square jawline and his blue eyes. His insanely blue eyes… which were still staring at her in concern, if a little clouded from alcohol.

“Yeah” she said quickly, standing up straight. She tried to pull away from him, but swayed so heavily she ended up falling back against the brick wall. “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t touching her anymore, but he still hovered. It was the concern on his face that annoyed her more than his presence.

“You can go now,” she spit, narrowing her eyes. “I’m already drunk and not in the mood, so why don’t you go try to persuade some other poor soul to have sex with you.”

The guy actually looked hurt for a second, before a grimace pulled back his lips and he looked her up and down, taking in her baggy cargo pants, leather jacket and nose ring with distaste.

“Trust me,” he said, “you aren’t my type.”

Of course, she wasn’t. He probably went for ditzy blondes with big boobs, but for some reason Felicity would never understand, his words hurt. Or maybe it was his tone, the dismissive sound a reminder of every rejection she’d ever received. God, she wasn’t even attracted to this guy and his stupid face, but all she could see in his blue eyes was her father walking out the door when she was a kid. Her high school boyfriend cheating on her with his lab partner, Cooper deciding that being a “hacktivist” was worth more than being with her.

Tears flooded her eyes and she wanted to run, to get the hell out of this alley and away from this asshole, but she knew she’d probably just trip, so instead she opened her mouth, ready to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his type.

But he beat her to it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, moving closer, a hand stretched out awkwardly in the space between them. “I didn’t mean that. You’re very attractive. Not my usual type, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t…”

He trailed off as he realized what he was saying was probably just as offensive. She had to give him credit for that, at least.

“Sorry,” he finished, lamely, a small shrug jerking his shoulders. Big shoulders, she realized. Muscular.

She swallowed.

So not her type.

Felicity sighed heavily and carefully slid herself down the wall. Sitting in a dirty, garbage strewn alleyway wasn’t her idea of a good time, but she just needed to sit for a minute. She was tired. Completely worn out from the last couple of days and she needed a minute.

“Are you alright?” Smarmy Guy asked again. When she just nodded he moved to sit down across from her. “Did you follow the sign’s instructions, at least?”

“What?” Felicity’s eyes shot open, glancing at him in confusion.

“The sign,” he said, like it should be obvious, pointing up at the brick wall.

She looked up and directly over the garbage can she’d just unloaded her stomach contents into were the words THROW YOUR EX HERE.

She laughed. She couldn’t help it, even though the movement kind of made her want to puke again.

“I guess, I kind of did.”

“So this is about a guy?” he asked, the smarmy smile back on his face, but it faded as soon as he saw the look that flashed in her eyes.

Sadness. Grief. Anger.

“What did he do?” he asked.

Felicity shook her head, but stopped when it made her dizzy.

“He just… He did something he shouldn’t have.”

“To you?”

She glanced up at his strange tone. It was protective, a little angry. When she saw the look in his eyes, she understood why.

“No!” she said, quickly. “No, nothing like that. He didn’t hurt me or… no.” She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the bricks. “He used a… program I made to do something… not good.”

She wasn’t sure how to even explain something like this to a frat boy stranger, but she found she wanted to. She wanted to tell him, maybe because he was a stranger. They didn’t even know each other’s names, they were just two people sitting in a dirty alley outside a bar way too late at night. What better time to get everything she was feeling off her chest?

“My boyfriend—ex-boyfriend,” she corrected, “he stole a computer virus I created. Then used it to delete student loans. He wanted to be a hacktivist.”

She could hear the bitterness in her words.

“Sounds like a Robin Hood wannabe.”

She looked over at the guy, at his unimpressed expression, and laughed. “Kinda does, huh?”

“So you dumped him.”

“Yeah. I dumped him. He used something I created to steal. Well, not technically, but it wasn’t why I created the virus and he knew that. He wouldn’t listen to me when I told him to stop. I had to pull the connection to shut him down.”

Smarmy Guy didn’t say anything at first, and Felicity started to feel self-conscious. She’d just told a stranger something really private, something she hadn’t told anyone else. What the hell had she been—

“I was at a friend’s rehearsal dinner earlier,” Smarmy Guy said, interrupting her berating thoughts. “For his wedding, you know?” he added, like maybe she wasn’t sure.

She nodded, biting her to tongue to keep back any barbed remarks about his intelligence she might usually send towards someone like him. Yes, he was a frat boy and she wouldn’t have chosen him for this particular conversation given the choice, but she realized they were having a moment and didn’t want to ruin it.

“I slept with the bride in a storage closet,” he admitted, a sheepish expression on his face.

So much for ruining it, she thought.

“I’ve known the guy my whole life,” he said, looking annoyed with himself, almost angry. “So what did I do the day before his wedding? I slept with his fiancé.”

“Well,” Felicity said, a small smile on her lips, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure you didn’t do much sleeping in that storage closet.”

He looked back at her, a huff of surprise falling from his lips, his blue eyes wide.

“No,” he shook his head, his smile coming back to him, “we didn’t.”

They sat there for maybe an hour, telling each other their darkest secrets, the worst things about themselves. Things no one else was supposed to know.

Finally, when she realized that she was about to start dozing off with a stranger in an alley, she decided it was time to call it a night.

“I’ll help you get a cab,” he offered immediately, getting to his feet with surprising gracefulness for someone who was still drunk.

They barely needed to wait once they’d made it to the street. It was late, and cabs were practically lining up, waiting to pick up fares outside the club.

“So,” he drawled as he helped her to one of the cabs, “you sure you’re not interested in going back to my hotel?”

He asked, but he wasn’t being an ass about it. This wasn’t him trying to seduce her, hell, it wasn’t even him flirting with her. He was just sincerely asking her if she wanted to spend the night with him or not.

She smiled, despite herself. “You just admitted to sleeping with your friend’s fiancé, what do you think?”

He ducked his head and grinned and, she had to admit, he had a great smile. Stupid hair, but a great smile. When he looked back up his blue eyes were burning with something she couldn’t immediately place, but she could see the self-deprecation in them. She knew what that looked like.

“I think that’s probably the best idea you’ve had all night,” he laughed. “And, in my defense, he wasn’t a good friend.”

She just raised her eyebrows.

His grin pulled wider. “That makes it a little better, doesn’t it?” He held up his thumb and pointer finger. “A little?”

She scrunched her face up, shaking her head.

“Oh, come on!” he said, his words exasperated, but his tone teasing, as he leaned against the open door of the taxi. “One time he called the cops on a party I was having, because he wasn’t invited.”

Felicity just cocked her head to the side.

It took him a few moments before he closed his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I just heard it.” He huffed out a laugh. “Wow, I’m a bad friend.”

Felicity wasn’t sure what was going on with her tonight, but she leaned forward and put her hand on his forearm. “I think you might actually be a really good friend,” she said softly, watching as his eyes shot open in surprise.

He stared at her for a second, looking unsure and maybe a little uncomfortable. Finally, he smiled. Not the big grin he’d had before, or the smarmy smile when he’d entered the alley, but a real, genuine smile.

“I think any guy who would choose ripping off a bank—”

“I told you, it was student loans—”

“—who would chose THAT over you is an idiot,” he finished, talking right over her, making her hear him.

Her eyes widened in surprise and for the first time that night she didn’t see Smarmy Guy, she saw a man who—let’s be honest, clearly had issues—but, who was kind. Genuine kindness didn’t come around very often, Felicity was afraid.

“Are you getting in or what?”

Felicity startled at the unexpected voice and turned back to the cab. The driver was sticking his head out the window, looking more than a little annoyed that they were wasting his time.

She turned back to the guy in front of her, looking up into his blue eyes. She felt a sudden pang in her chest, but decided it was just the day getting to her.

“I would possibly think about kissing you right now, but I just puked. Hard. So…”

He smiled, that beautiful smile she was starting to really like. “It’s okay.” He placed a hand on her elbow, helping her into the cab. “Get home safe, alright?”

She nodded and he closed the door after making sure her fingers were out of the way.

She gave the driver her address and leaned back against the leather seat, closing her eyes.

“Make sure she makes it back alright,” she heard Smarmy Guy tell the driver and she opened her eyes in time to see him hand over a hundred dollar bill. The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb, before Felicity could say anything.

Her head turned to the window, keeping her eyes on the man outside as he watched her drive away.

Affection, she realized.

That was the look he’d had in his eyes. Affection.

She felt that pang in her chest again and leaned back against the seat. She wished she’d gotten his name. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that there could ever be something between them, they were too different, but she would have liked to have been able to think back on him fondly and not as Smarmy Guy from the alley behind the bar.

Maybe she’d call him Blue Eyes.

Yeah. Yeah, she liked that much better.

Chapter Text

Felicity fidgeted on her couch, wiggling her phone back and forth in her hand.

She took a deep breath, double checking the number. Again. Okay, so maybe it was more like a triple check, but she was nervous. She hadn't been on a date since she moved to Starling two months ago.

And Mark was a nice guy. She'd been more than a little wowed by him at Jitters this morning. He might not have majored in computer sciences, but he clearly kept up on his Wired magazine subscription. He hadn't been even the least intimidated by her intelligence or her ability to babble herself into a corner. The one time she'd done that—accidentally telling him how she liked it hot after she burnt her tongue on her coffee and then how she hadn't meant it THAT way, though she didn't NOT mean it that way, either—he'd just politely ignored her and steered the conversation back on topic.

He was nice. And Felicity could use nice right about now.

Her last real attempt at a relationship had been so long ago, she'd almost forgotten how nice it was to feel butterflies fluttering around inside her stomach.

So she slowly dialed in the number Mark had given her on a napkin that morning and pressed send.

The phone rang for so long she was afraid it would go to voicemail. That would be just what she needed. She could already feel the awkward babble rising up in her throat.

"Hello?" he answered at the last moment. His voice was gruff, so much gruffer than she remembered. And he was more than a little breathless.

What had he been doing at—Felicity looked at the clock on her wall—almost 10pm that would leave him breathing so heavily?

"Hello?" he asked again.

"Sorry!" she chirped, jumping slightly. "Sorry, I was..." Imagining things that left people breathless and just what you'd look like doing those things. "I was just... calling you." She slammed her eyes shut. "About coffee."

There was a pause and then a confused, "Coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee. Tomorrow? At Jitters?" There was another pause, longer this time, and Felicity realized she hadn't introduced herself. "Oh, jeez! This is Felicity," she said, a nervous laugh bubbling up. "Smoak. From this morning?"

Mark laughed. "Oh. Felicity, you—"

"Yeah, me," she smiled. "You gave me your number and told me to call, so I did. Call you. I hope it's not too late, but I thought we could meet up at Jitters tomorrow morning, before work?"

"Uh... Felicity," Mark said, sounding not as enthusiastic about this idea as she'd hoped he'd be.

"Or not," she said quickly. "We don't have to. I just thought it might be nice. But whenever you're free works for me." Another long pause had those flutters in her stomach beating around like bats instead of butterflies. "Or... maybe you changed your mind? About me calling."

Felicity hated the way her voice sounded—small and timid—and she closed her eyes. She'd just really wanted to start getting out there more. Start trying to make a life for herself here in Starling, one that involved relationships with more than just the delivery guys of her favorite take out place. It's why she'd moved here in the first place. She'd needed a change. With a small shake of her head, she opened her mouth to tell him that it was fine, it was all totally fine, when he cut her off.

"No!" he said quickly. "No, I didn't... Um." He paused again. "I'd like to get coffee. What time were you thinking?"

"Oh." Felicity let out a relived laugh, a little embarrassed to have jumped to conclusions. "Oh, uh, maybe eight?"

"Yeah, okay," Mark agreed. "Eight sounds good. Jitters on 5th?"

Felicity's brow furrowed at that. "Yeah, same as this morning."

"Okay, yeah," he said, quickly. "I'll see you there."

"Oh, okay. Do you have to go now or...?"

"Uh." She heard fumbling on the other end of the line. Fabric rustling. "No. I can talk, if you want. I just finished my workout, so I'm cooling down."

Which explained the breathlessness.

"So you workout?" Felicity asked, then grimaced. "That came out sounding more like a line than I meant it to."

Mark laughed. "Yes, I workout. It's a good stress reliever, actually. My... uh, friend... he got me into martial arts about two years ago. It changed my life."

"Really?" Felicity asked, a little surprised. He hadn't seemed like the athletic type. Tall, sort of lanky. He was cute, but far from a jock. Maybe martial arts didn't build muscle the same way other sports did, she didn't know much about it.

She could hear Mark taking a drink and settling in on a couch or maybe even his bed.

"Yeah. A few years ago I was pretty lost. I didn't know who I was or what I wanted in life. Dig—my friend John Diggle—he kind of..." Mark laughed, "he kind of kicked my ass into gear. Made me take a good hard look at myself and what I needed to change."

Felicity leaned back into the couch, chest warm and fuzzy from him opening up to her like this. She hadn't expected it. "He sounds like a good friend."

"Dig's the best," he said immediately. "There were other things going on in my life that motivated me to change, but he's the one that helped me do it. I don't even want to know where I'd be right now without him."

"That's really nice," Felicity said. "That you have a friend like that."

"What about you?" he asked. "Do you have a friend like that?

"I do." Felicity smiled, thinking about Caitlin and Barry. "But no one in Starling. I just moved here a couple of months ago, which I told you already. My friends back in Central City are the best. They're the ones who encouraged me to move here, to take a great job offer I was nervous about. But I haven't seen them in a couple of months. It's... it can be lonely."

Mark didn't say anything for a moment, but Felicity got the feeling it was because he knew exactly what she was saying.

"I'm glad you called, Felicity."

Felicity was sure he could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "Me, too."

•••

It was only just after 8:00am, but Felicity had already been sitting in a booth at Jitters for fifteen minutes when she heard someone say her name.

"Felicity Smoak?"

She turned in her seat, looking for Mark, but she didn't see him anywhere. There was a man standing near the entrance, looking around for someone.

"Is there a Felicity here?" he asked again.

There weren't many people in the coffee shop yet, a few standing on line and a few more spread out at tables. They mostly just ignored the guy, but a couple acknowledged him, shaking their heads.

All Felicity could do was stare, because the guy—the one standing right there and calling her name—was Oliver Queen.

Like THE Oliver Queen. The one who's family's company she worked for. The billionaire celebutante that always ended up on tabloid covers and gossip sites. She hadn't seen much of him in recent years. Certainly not since she'd moved to Starling, but here he was, in the flesh, calling her name.

He turned towards her side of the café, eyes settling on her as she stared, wide-eyed, back at him.

"Felicity?" he asked again, approaching her booth.

Oh god, he was so handsome. How does one even become that handsome? Was there some secret that rich people had to make their faces all sharp angles and chiseled jawlines? And the eyes. Oh, don't even get her started on his eyes. So blue... They crinkled up in the corners as he smiled at her.

Oh! He was waiting for a response. Something other than her drooling over him.

"Yes!" she squeaked. "Yup. That's me. Felicity. Hi."

"Hi," he repeated. "I'm Oliver Queen."

"I know who you are," she said, then shook her head. "I mean, I've... I've heard of you. Obviously. I'm pretty sure everyone has. How did... how do you know who I am?"

Oliver's expression sobered at her question. "I, uh," he said, glancing away from her and towards the opposite side of the booth. "Can I sit here?"

Felicity's mouth dropped open. "I was kind of waiting for someone."

"I know," Oliver said, sitting anyway. "You were waiting for me."

Her eyebrows shot up and she shook her head. "No. No, I was waiting for this guy Mark..."

She trailed off at the look on his face. Oliver sucked in his bottom lip, looking sheepish.

"I wasn't waiting for Mark, was I?" she asked.

"No," he said, giving her a tight lipped smile. "Sorry."

"But how?" To say Felicity was confused was the understatement of the year.

"You dialed the wrong number last night." Oliver shrugged.

"No, I didn't," she argued. She was sure.

Oliver nodded, his one eyebrow raised in a way that was as annoyingly self-assured as it was sexy.

"But..." Felicity stuttered, incredulously, "that was the number he gave me. I triple checked it. Hang on." She started rooting around in her purse, intent on finding the napkin to show him. Because she did NOT call the wrong number. She didn't.

"Got it!"

She straightened out the crumpled napkin and laid it out on the table for him to see. "Right here, look. It's says '849-2867'. That's the number I called. That's your number."

Oliver pulled the napkin closer, peering at it through narrowed eyes. A small smirk pulled at his lips when he glanced up at her. "That's a five, not a six." He pointed to the number in question. "Look, it's not connected."

"That..." Felicity began, pulling the napkin to her. She looked closely, seeing that the tail end of the number she believed was a six did, in fact, have a gap in it. "That's... Well, that's his fault," she finished, sitting up straight, chin held high. "If he expects women to call him he should work on his handwriting."

Oliver laughed. "Mark's sloppy handwriting is my gain, though, so I can't be too mad about it."

Felicity stared at him, pushing away the thoughts of 'oh god oh god this is actually Oliver Queen sitting in front of me'.

"Why did you agree to meet for coffee, if I was just a wrong number?"

Oliver looks slightly embarrassed. "I... Well, I was trying to tell you, but then you started talking really fast and—"

"Oh god," Felicity muttered, dropping her head in her hands, completely mortified. "I babbled over you trying to tell me what an idiot I am."

"No," Oliver said with a chuckle, his hand wrapping around her wrist, tugging it gently away from her face. Felicity tried not to think about how warm and strong his fingers felt against her. "I kinda stopped trying to tell you once you started babbling. It was cute and then we were talking, for real, and I just... wanted to meet you."

"Oh."

She wasn't sure what to say to that. Sure, she'd thought she'd been talking to Mark last night, but they'd still talked for over an hour. About everything, anything. Except for his secret identity as one of the richest men in the city, clearly.

"What are the chances I dial Oliver Queen's number by accident?" she muttered to herself.

"Pretty good with Mark's horrible handwriting."

She looked up at him with a laugh. He was smiling at her, but he looked nervous. Suddenly, she saw him, sitting on his couch, phone to his ear, telling her all the ways he was trying to change his life. And she saw HIM. Not Oliver Queen. Not Mark. But Oliver, telling her personal things, and her telling him things right back.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"Yes," Felicity said and watched his face fall. She shifted in her seat, making herself more comfortable. "But you could start to make it up to me by buying me a coffee."

The look of shock that overtook him, that transformed into something softer, something infinitely warmer, made Felicity's breath catch in her throat.

"I can do that," he said, hopping up from his seat. "And when I get back maybe we can talk about other ways I can make it up to you. I'm thinking dinner."

"I'm liking the way you're thinking," she teased, feeling just as comfortable as she had last night on the phone. She told him how she liked her coffee and watched him walk over to the counter. Her heart stuttered when he glanced back at her, blue eyes shining.

"Felicity?"

She spun towards the voice and found a familiar face. The familiar face she'd thought she'd been waiting for just ten minutes ago.

"Mark!"

"Hey," he smiled. "You're here early today."

"Yeah, I..." Felicity took a good look at him. He was still cute. Still a nice guy, smiling down at her, looking like seeing her had made his whole day. But she just didn't feel what she had when she dialed that wrong number. "I was meeting... a friend."

"Oh." Mark's face fell, and she felt terrible.

"He's—"

"Back," Oliver said, sliding passed Mark and into the booth. He handed Felicity her coffee with a smile, before glancing up at Mark. "Hi. Oliver Queen."

"Mark Wyatt. It's nice to meet you."

They shook hands and Felicity felt distinctly awkward. And why wouldn't she? She was sitting in a coffee shop staring directly at a figurative fork in the road. If she'd read one number differently she'd be here with Mark right now, and it would be nice. She knew it would be. But, then she'd never have talked to Oliver. She never would have had this opportunity to get to know him better.

Felicity wasn't big on fate, and she certainly wasn't sure what it had in store for her, but she wanted to think this was an act of serendipity.

"Well, I'll let you two get back to your coffee," Mark said, smiling at her. "It was nice to see you again, Felicity."

"Yeah," she smiled. "It was nice to see you, too."

Once he walked away, getting his own coffee, Oliver spoke up. "So, that was the guy, huh?"

"Yup," she nodded.

"And you didn't ditch me for him..."

She watched him for a moment, taking in the way he wouldn't meet her eyes directly, and the way he swallowed a little heavier after he'd spoken.

"I like the guy I called last night," she said with a lighthearted shrug. "I'd like to think I misread those numbers for a reason."

Oliver laughed. "Yeah, because you don't want to admit you made a mistake."

"Hey!" she complained, picking up a sugar packet and tossing it in his direction.

Oliver grinned, a beautiful, happy grin that must have been contagious because Felicity was grinning back just a happily.

"I'm really glad you called, Felicity."

His blue eyes were shining and she knew, whatever else happened with Oliver Queen, her life was about to change. And she was ready for it.

"Me, too."

Chapter Text

"Are you sure you're alright?" Felicity asked, standing in the doorway.

Thea would not allow her any closer, not with "the cold from hell" Felicity was currently battling.

"I'll be fine, Felicity," she assured her for the hundredth time. "It's just a broken leg—"

"A broken leg that needed surgical intervention!"

"Hey," Thea said, struggling to sit up and take her pain meds. Felicity made a move to help her, but Thea held a hand out in warning. "No, no closer than that! And you are in far worse condition than I am."

"I have a head cold, Thea," Felicity deadpanned, as her roommate swallowed her pills with a gulp of water. "You can't move."

"Well," Thea smiled, cheekily, "imagine how worse off I'd be if I couldn't move AND had a monster cold? Look at you, you're carrying around a box of tissues!"

Felicity glanced down at the pack of tissues in her hand. "It's not a box," she muttered. "It's a softpack."

Thea gave her a very pointed look for someone on pain killers.

"Can I, at least, get you something to eat? You're supposed to eat when you take your pills and Roy won't be back until after five. That's a long time and a lot of drugs to not eat anything."

"I'm fine," Thea assured her. "I don't want your germs. Besides my brother's coming over soon to help me out."

Felicity froze, straightening up from where she leaned against the door. In her pajamas.

"Oliver's coming over?" she asked, slightly embarrassed about how obvious she was being, but it's not like Thea didn't know about her crush. From Thea's smirk it was obvious Felicity wasn't fooling anyone.

"Oh," Thea said, tapping a finger against her lips. "Did I forget to mention that?"

"Yes, Thea!" Felicity's eyes widened as she glanced down at herself. "I'm in my fluffy bunny pajamas, you didn't think to mention Oliver would be here today?"

Thea laughed. "I don't think the bunny pajamas are gonna hit his radar," she assured her roommate. "Not with that rat's nest on your head."

Felicity's hand flew to her hair—her tangled, dirty, sick-day hair. How could Thea do this to her? Just as she turned toward the bathroom, ready to jump into the shower, there was a knock at the front door.

"No," Felicity said, turning back to Thea with a shake of her head. "That's not him."

"Yes, it is," she laughed. "Go let him in."

"You go let him in," Felicity said, feeling panicked.

Thea gave her an incredulous look and glanced down at her leg in the brace.

"Ugh," Felicity complained, turning to walk down the hall. "Why don't you just give him a key?"

"Because you live here," Thea called after her. "He doesn't need to walk in on you when you're a hot mess. Like right now!"

She could hear Thea's medically induced giggling as she hurriedly tried to pull her tangled hair back into a ponytail, using the elastic band on her wrist. She checked her reflection in the mirror by the door, before taking a deep breath and letting Oliver in.

"Felicity. Hey."

Oliver Queen looked, as always, completely gorgeous and put together. He was still wearing his suit, having obviously come by straight from Queen Consolidated. He looked her up and down—bunny pajamas not on his radar my ass, Thea!—and smiled.

"I heard you weren't feeling well. I brought you some soup." He held up a brown paper bag from one of her favorite diners. In his other hand he held a bag from the Italian place Thea was always going on about.

See, that was the other reason Felicity's crush on her roommate's brother had gotten a little out of control. Besides the obvious he's a solid ten out of ten with muscles to spare reason, he was nice. Just a genuine nice guy who did things like go out of his way to pick up soup because he heard she was sick, especially since he had already stopped to get Thea something for lunch.

"Oh, Oliver," she said, gesturing for him to come inside. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," he said, dropping the bags off on the kitchen counter before taking his suit jacket off and hanging it up in the hall. "Besides, I was already getting something for Thea."

She wanted to call him out on the diner being halfway across the city from Thea's Italian place, not to mention from their apartment, but she kept quiet. It was what they did. They didn't talk about how he did things like this for her, because that would inevitably lead to discussions of WHY he did things like this for her.

It just wasn't a topic either of them had ever broached before, and she wasn't about to start now while she was high on cough medicine.

She hovered near the couch, trying to smooth down her wrinkled pajamas and make sure she didn't smell like sweat, while he plated some food for Thea. "Do you feel like eating right now?" he asked, glancing over towards her.

"Uh, sure," Felicity said, smiling and stepping up to the counter. "Since you went through all the trouble..."

"It was no trouble, Felicity."

The look in his eyes was back. The look she'd seen more and more over the past few months, when they were alone and it was quiet and they could just... be them. Felicity looked away, reaching for the bag from the diner.

"Well, thank you. I'm starving. I haven't eaten since this morning. And that was only a few crackers because I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to keep them down." Felicity grimaced. "Talking about this is maybe not the best idea before I eat."

Oliver chuckled and told her to dig in, while he brought Thea her lunch and checked up on her. Felicity did dig in, noticing that Oliver had gotten himself a sandwich from the diner and that he'd left it out here instead of bringing it in to eat with Thea.

She felt bad about wanting to steal Thea's brother's attention from her, especially when she needed him, but the butterflies that burst in her stomach made her feel just slightly better about it. Until she realized that she was probably jumping to conclusions and Oliver didn't MEAN anything by it. It was just a sandwich.

Ugh. She blamed the cold medicine.

Ten minutes later, Felicity was curled up on the couch, bowl of soup warming her hands as she caught up on some of the tv shows she loved, but didn't always have time for because of work. If being sick was good for anything, Felicity thought, it was cleaning out your DVR.

An amused huff sounded behind her and Oliver quietly closed the door to Thea's room, before retrieving his lunch from the kitchen.

"She's very high and texting Roy what will probably amount to nothing but gibberish," Oliver said, plopping down on the couch beside her. "Remind me to ask him later."

Felicity grinned. "I'm sorry she made you come all the way here from work. I washed my hands a thousand times today, and even used her gross hand sanitizer," she said with a grimace, "but she still won't let me further than the door."

Oliver took a bite out of his sandwich, eyes on the tv in front of them. "Thea's always been weird about germs when people get sick. I may have given her the stomach flu once and I don't think she's ever gotten over it."

"You should probably stay away then," Felicity teased, "or else you'll be stuck in the hallway with me."

Oliver turned to look at her, his eyes shining with amusement. "I'll be in good company, at least."

Felicity knew they maintained eye contact longer than two people who were just friends should. Thea had timed them once, or so she said. Felicity wouldn't know since every time Oliver Queen turned his blue eyes on her the rest of the world ceased to be. They pulled themselves out of it—they always did, eventually—and got back to watching Felicity's show.

Felicity finished up her soup, putting the bowl on the coffee table beside Oliver's discarded plate, and curled up on her side of the couch. She'd almost forgotten about how gross she felt, when the chills set in.

"Felicity," Oliver asked, drawing her attention away from the tv, "are you alright?"

"Just cold," she said, looking around for a blanket or robe or anything laying around the living room that might warm her up.

"Come here," Oliver said, scooting across the distance between them. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, allowing her to fall into his side. Which she did. Happily. "That better?" he asked, leaning into her, sharing his body warmth.

"Yes," she admitted, glancing up at him. "It's a lot better."

His blue eyes held hers, the look in them the same as earlier. He pressed closer to her, wrapping his other arm around her, cuddling her to him. Holding her. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and she buried her face in his shoulder.

They both knew how they felt about one another. It wasn't a secret, not really. They'd just never acted on it, never spoken about it, but right now Oliver was holding her, hugging her and it just felt so damn good.

"Close your eyes, Felicity," he whispered in her ear. "Take a nap if you're tired. I'm right here."

She let her eyes droop, lulled by the sound of his voice. She was pretty tired, and Oliver was so warm... And, once she felt better, she might not ever get another chance to be this close to him. She had to take the opportunity when it was presented to her, didn't she?

Without another thought, she leaned closer, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, and let herself drift to sleep.

A door slamming woke her and she found herself sprawled across Oliver's chest. He was awake, but he'd obviously dozed off and was awoken by the door as well. His arm was wrapped around her back, holding her close and her legs were tangled with his.

A second later, Roy walked into the living room, coming to a stop when he saw Oliver and Felicity wrapped around each other on the couch.

They both sat up quickly, looking anywhere but at each other as they straightened themselves out.

"Thea's gonna flip when I tell her about this," Roy laughed.

Oliver scowled, before his eyes went wide. "Thea! I haven't checked on her..."

He started to get up, but Roy waved him off.

"Don't worry about it. She was just texting me." He quirked an eyebrow. "Either that or she died and a chicken stole her phone and has been pecking at the screen all day. Could go either way, honestly," he said with a shrug.

He disappeared down the hall to Thea's room a moment later, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone.

They shared a look, before Oliver sunk back into the couch, reaching out for Felicity. She didn't hesitate to snuggle back into his side, craving his warmth, and just... him. Snuggling on the couch with her boss-slash-best friend's brother would probably be considered complicated to most people. But this was just Oliver, and it was just them and oh dear god did she want him to do more than just cuddle with her.

"Hey," Oliver said, voice warm and enticing, just like the rest of him. He turned his head, leaning down to kiss her temple. "When you feel better, would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Felicity felt like her body was glowing. She curled closer into his side, pressing her smile against his shoulder and nodding.

"Yes?" he whispered, and when she looked up, he was smiling, too.

"Yes." She nodded again, grin practically splitting her face in half.

Oliver leaned in to kiss her forehead, his grin almost wider than hers. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss that had her feeling like she was floating. Part of that, Felicity was willing to admit, might have been the cold, but it was mostly Oliver.

"I've wanted to do that for a very long time," he whispered.

"Me, too. I'm glad we finally did it." Felicity shut her eyes. "I don't mean DID IT. That's not—"

"Felicity, I know what you meant," Oliver said with a smile and leaned in to give her another quick kiss, but he stopped abruptly, face scrunching up. Suddenly, his hands came up, cupping his nose as he let out a huge sneeze. He even made the achoo sound and everything.

Felicity couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. "You're sick!"

"I am not sick," Oliver huffed, then his shoulders slumped slightly and he added, "But let's, maybe, not tell Thea about this, okay?"

They both ended up banished to the hallway until they were over their respective colds, but neither really cared very much.

They were in good company, after all.

Chapter Text

"Why do people insist on making their kids their profile pictures?" Thea asked.

She had been scrolling through her Facebook feed, but was now looking at a picture of fluffy dog lying next to an infant. The picture was cute, don't get her wrong, but Thea was too young to already have friends with their kids as their profile pictures. Not to mention how it just highlighted how different Thea's life was from everyone else's.

"What are you talking about?" Oliver asked, after he finalized putting away his Green Arrow suit.

He walked over to where Thea was looking at Facebook on Felicity's computer. Oliver, Thea and Diggle had done a quick patrol, before deciding to call it a night, so now Thea was bored and, yes, scrolling through social media to see if anything interesting had happened to her high school friends. Apparently, something did, since a girl she'd been friends with now had a picture of her infant baby set as her profile picture.

She tried to explain that to her brother, but all he said in return was, "You know Felicity's going to kill you if you mess up her computers, right?"

"Felicity will do no such thing," Felicity said, wheeling up the ramp and onto the dais to join them. "I trust Thea not to mangle my machines just by logging into Facebook."

Oliver smiled at her. "You done with the servers?" he asked. "It's getting late."

"Yup," Felicity said, smiling up at him. "All ready to go."

"Good. I have a couple of things in the fridge I need to cook before they go bad, plus dinner, so..."

Thea loved her brother, she really did. And she loved Felicity. But, the more time she spent around them the more she realized how... adult they were. And not like the woohoo-I'm-an-adult-let's-get-smashed kind of adult or even the let's-go-out-for-drinks-and-discuss-work kind, but more like the I-just-had-a-kid-let-me-post-a-million-pictures-of-him kind.

"Ugh," Thea groaned, the realization coming on suddenly. "You're totally gonna be the guy who's Facebook picture is of his kids, aren't you?"

Felicity laughed, but Oliver looked lost.

"What are you taking about? I don't even have a Facebook," he told her. "Or any social media, for that matter, and I don't plan on getting one anytime soon."

Thea raised her eyebrows, biting back a smirk. "Oh, okay. Sure," she said, spinning back to the computer.

Her brother was more perceptive than that, though, and knew something was up. "What does that mean?" he asked, confusion tugging at his brow.

Thea threw a glance Felicity's way, but the blonde was currently VERY busy looking at the hem of her dress. Of course, Oliver noticed that, as well.

"Felicity?"

Felicity huffed in exasperation and shook her head, finally looking their way. "Thanks a lot, Thea," she scowled, before turning to Oliver. "It isn't a big deal."

"What isn't a big deal?" he growled, moving closer to his fiancé.

Felicity looked trapped, and Thea did feel bad for her, she really did, but she also really wanted to see her brother's reaction.

"It's just... Alex and I thought," Felicity started, then took a deep breath and just let it all come spilling out. "Alex and I thought it was a little weird, a mayoral candidate without any social media at all, you know? So we... well, I, really, but he suggested it..."

"Fe-lic-i-ty."

"We made you a Facebook account," she said quickly, her face scrunching up like she was afraid to witness his reaction. When he didn't say anything, she slowly opened her eyes to look up at him.

Oliver's only reaction was a small intake of breath accompanied by a shake of his head. "Why?" he asked.

"Because, Oliver," Thea butted in. "You're running for Mayor. Your campaign needed a way to reach out to the public, to let them get involved. It is 2016, you know?"

"You," Oliver said, pointing an accusing finger her way, "were the mastermind behind this, weren't you?"

"She did mention it," Felicity said.

"Way to throw me under the bus," Thea muttered.

"Oh, you threw me first, pal." Felicity smiled. "You're just lucky I'm not taking my revenge by hacking your phone and releasing all of your private selfies on the Internet."

Thea's eyes flew wide, but Oliver just looked confused.

"Private selfies?" he repeated, before his face scrunched in disgust. "I don't even want to know! Just... so you made me a Facebook," he said, dragging the conversation away from Thea and any mature rated things she may or may not have on her phone.

"Do people..." He glanced at Felicity. "Do people actually look at it?"

Felicity grinned, wheeling herself towards Thea and her computers. She clicked over to his page and waved her hand in a ta-da motion. Oliver stepped closer, leaning down to look at what Felicity was showing him.

"A million people like this?" he asked. "Is that good?"

"Oh my god, Ollie," Thea said, rolling her eyes. "How are we even related? This," she pointed towards the numbers on the screen, "means that lots of people like your page. They follow it, look at the pictures—"

"There are pictures?" Oliver asked, eyebrows raised. "Of what?"

Thea spun towards Felicity. "You're marrying this, you know," she deadpanned, waving towards her brother.

"I know," Felicity smiled dreamily up at him. "There are pictures of everything, my pop-culturally deficient love," she explained, turning to scroll through the photo albums she had set up. "There are pictures of you at events and some from the debate, there are a few pictures of you and Thea. A couple of us."

Oliver pulled a chair over and sat beside Felicity, looking at the pictures. "I like that one of us," he said softly, in that voice that Thea had only ever hear him use around the blonde.

The picture, in question, had been taken a couple of weeks ago, at a fundraiser to help raise money for the Star City Fire Department. Felicity was wearing a stunning green dress, that in no way looked any less gorgeous because Felicity was sitting in the photo. Oliver was kneeling beside her in a tuxedo, both of them looking beautiful and happy.

"Me, too," Felicity smiled.

"Could we make that one my profile picture?" Oliver asked, staring at her and not the picture. Thea nearly rolled her eyes at his expression. He might as well have actual hearts for eyes, with the way he was looking at his fiancé.

"Oh, yeah, alright." Felicity clicked a few buttons and showed Oliver his new profile.

Her giant dork of a brother was grinning like an idiot. "Maybe this Facebook thing isn't so bad," he said and then leaned down to give Felicity a peck on the lips. "Let's go home. I'm making your favorite for dinner."

"Ooh!" Felicity said excitedly, leading the way down the ramp. "Garlic chicken!"

"Oh my god," Thea muttered, as the two made their way to the elevator. "You are SO going to be the guy with his kids as his profile picture."

She didn't turn to look, but she heard Felicity laughing and she could practically feel her brother scowling at her as the elevator doors slid shut.

For every crazy thing that was happening in her life right now, at least Thea still had her big brother... no matter how much of a dork he'd turned out to be.

Chapter Text

Felicity hated the suburbs.

She'd always known that she was more of a city girl, but coming back to Ivy Town after a business trip to Starling City just highlighted the difference for her.

It wasn't just that she missed work—though she was more than relieved that she wasn't expected to be a very hands on CEO while she lived out of town—or her friends and saving the city every night—she secretly helped them out a few times a week, at least—it was more than that. It was... the smell of the city, and the people coming to and fro at all times of the day. It was the way that, no matter what time she left the lair, she could always get Big Belly Burger. The city was filled with life. With purpose.

The suburbs weren't bad, per se, they were just... boring.

Felicity opened the door to her and Oliver's house—the thought of her and Oliver owning a house, together, definitely left her with a distinctly not boring feeling in her stomach—and called out for him as she entered the foyer.

"He died!"

Those were two words Felicity Smoak never wanted to hear come out of Oliver Queen's mouth, given, you know, their lifestyle. And to say her heart skipped a beat when he said them, would be an understatement. But his tone was weird, more incredulous than sad or angry—not to mention she'd just left all of their friends safe and sound a couple of hours ago—so she paused taking her coat off and looked up at him where he stood in the arch between the dining room and the family room.

"What?" she asked.

"Ned Stark," he said, like it should be obvious. "He died!"

Felicity shook her head in confusion. "I know?"

"But he's the star!" Oliver argued, walking over to her. "Why would a show kill of the star?"

Felicity laughed and finished taking off her coat. She'd had a long couple of days—traveling back to Starling City for a meeting with the board of Palmer Tech, not to mention a sleepless night helping the team finish setting up their new lair—and it was nice to come home to Oliver, but coming home to an emotionally-unstable-due-to-a-television-show Oliver was possibly the best thing she'd ever experienced.

"You watched Game of Thrones?" she asked, not bothering to hide her giddy smile.

"You were gone. I was bored," he shrugged, looking the slightest bit embarrassed, before his expression shifted to annoyance. "You said this show was good! That I'd like it! You didn't even warn me," he accused.

Felicity closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck while his arms snaked around her waist. The pout on his face was utterly adorable and made Felicity's heart clench. Six months ago, she never could have imagined that Oliver Queen would ever have a life where he could pout over a fictional character's death. But here they were.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. And she truly was. Oliver, from what she'd known and what he'd told her over this summer, hadn't been into tv before the island, and he certainly hadn't been interested afterwards, so she felt bad that the first time he'd given it a shot his favorite character died. Maybe she shouldn't have talked up Game of Thrones to him last week...

"I liked it," he assured her. "I guess that was the problem." He pulled her closer, a grin on his face. "I didn't even kiss you hello yet."

"Mmm. Hello," Felicity murmured, leaning up on her tiptoes. Oliver met her halfway, his lips warm and soft. Felicity couldn't help but think he felt like home.

She'd been in Starling for two days—the city that she'd lived in for years, the city where all of her friends lived—yet, being there, without Oliver... It hadn't felt like home. It felt empty, like a piece of her was missing. And she knew it wasn't Ivy Town or this house that she'd been missing so fiercely while she was away. Just knowing that, that Oliver had become home to her, it made a lump want to well up in her throat.

"I've missed you," he whispered against her lips.

"I've missed you, too. What do you say we get some dinner, curl up on the couch and watch season two?" Felicity suggested, snuggling into his chest.

"That's sounds like a near perfect night." Oliver let his hands slide down her back slowly, flirting with the skin above her waistband before dipping lower.

Felicity sighed in contentment. There were few things in this world Felicity loved more than Oliver's hands on her. "And what would make it a totally perfect night?" she asked, her voice teasing.

Oliver leaned closer, pressing his lips against her ear. "If Joffery was dead."

Felicity couldn't help it, she pushed him away, snorting in a very unattractive way, but...

"I really hate that little douche, Felicity," he said. "Please tell me he dies. Better yet, tell me Robb or Jon does it. Please."

"You really got into this, didn't you?" Felicity laughed, happily. She liked seeing Oliver like this—happy, the biggest worry he had being a tv show. Suburban problems looked good on him.

He nodded. "I've spent the past six hours sitting in front of the tv. I'm invested."

"Well, I'm not spoiling anything, so don't bother asking."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes and pulled her back to him. "But there's something we need to do before we start watching."

His hands trailed down her back again, squeezing when they reached her ass.

"It's been two days, Felicity," he groaned. "And so many sex scenes." He dropped his lips to her shoulder. "So many sex scenes."

Felicity laughed, throwing her head back, losing herself in the feel of his mouth against her skin as he trailed up her neck.

She may have been a little bored living in suburbia, but not with him. God, with him every boring, mundane moment set her heart on fire, because just last spring he'd been so convinced he couldn't have this. Now, he was carrying her to bed in their beautiful little house, murmuring about how annoyed he was with a tv show.

It was perfect. He was perfect. Their life together was, kind of, perfect.

But she still hated the suburbs.

Chapter Text

Oliver Queen liked to think he was open to new things. He liked to imagine he was up for any adventure the day brought him. Whether it was a sudden hookup under the bleachers or skipping class in favor of getting high at a friend's house or whatever other unexpected thing the day brought him, Oliver was ready for it.

He welcomed it.

But if there was one thing Oliver Queen had not expected to do today, it was shooting Starling Prep's resident goth girl in the leg with a bow and arrow.

To say he was prepared for that, was like saying he was prepared to be stranded on a desert island. Actually, if he had to choose, he'd go with the island. It was the least scary scenario, if anything he'd hear about the goth was true.

He hadn't meant to shoot her. He hadn't MEANT to shoot anything.

He'd just been playing with the bow after gym, while he and Laurel were putting the tennis equipment back in the shed. He'd been trying to get her to agree to a date, so when she offered to help Ms. Madison clean up, he'd volunteered immediately. Laurel was less than interested in his offer, so when he saw the bow sitting in the shed, he'd tried showing off a little. She left for the girl's locker room, shooting him an unimpressed, "Put the bow down before you hurt someone," over her shoulder.

It was a total accident that just as he nocked an arrow—which he was totally NOT planning to shoot at anything—a figure stumbled out from the bleachers, startling him. The arrow released as he jumped back, and the next thing he knew a string of profanities was being shouted at him from halfway across the football field.

Oliver quickly dropped the bow, running over to make sure whoever he'd hit was alright. He couldn't believe he'd actually hit someone, especially by accident, at that distance. But when he got closer he could see the girl—oh crap, he'd hit a girl—was sitting at the bottom of the bleachers, carefully rolling up one pant leg to look at the damage the arrow had caused. Said arrow was nowhere to be seen, but the blood all over the girl's pants and pale skin was obvious enough.

"You shot me!" she yelled at him, without looking up from where she was bent over her leg, inspecting the wound, her dark hair a veil between them.

"I'm so sorry," Oliver said, quickly, dropping to his knees beside her to try to see how bad it was. "Let me take a look."

Suddenly, the girl's gaze flew up to meet his and he nearly scooted back at the fury in her cold blue eyes. Blue eyes he recognized.

Shit. He'd shot Felicity Smoak. With an arrow.

"Get the hell away from me, Queen," she hissed. "What were you doing? What were you even thinking?" She shook her head, roughly jerking her pant leg back down and struggling to push herself to her feet. "Never mind," she said, scathingly. "I know what you were thinking. Nothing. Because why would someone like you stop to think about anyone or anything but themselves for five minutes. Jesus, I can't believe you shot me!"

He stood up beside her, offering her his hand to help her up, but she slapped it away.

"I don't need your help!" she shouted, but she did need Oliver's help. There was a lot of blood soaking through her green cargo pants, staining them black, and he could see the tears springing in her dark rimmed eyes. She swayed slightly, trying to figure out how to get from the football field all the way back to the school, a short distance normally, but it probably seemed like miles with a leg wound. Not to mention how much it would probably hurt...

Oliver moved quickly, lifting her into his arms and trying not to jolt her more than necessary. He'd taken all of two steps toward the school, when Felicity smacked a palm across his shoulder. Hard.

"It's just a graze. I can walk, dumbass!" She wriggled, pushing against him, fighting him, until he was forced to drop her.

"I was just trying to help," he apologized, but didn't let her go completely. He wasn't about to let her fall and hurt herself more than he already had.

"I told you, I don't want your help." She hopped back a step to put some distance between them, but, despite her hissed words, she didn't let go of him either. The hand she had on his shoulder digging into his t-shirt to support herself.

She took a small step away, but the moment she put weight on her left foot a sharp hiss ripped from between her gritted teeth. Just like Oliver had expected, walking on her injured leg was going to hurt. She clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath.

"Okay, fine. You are my human crutch," she conceded. "But only because you're the only one out here. And don't get handsy!" She turned a glare his way, her blue eyes as frosty as he'd ever seen them, despite her pain. "I swear, if you even THINK about copping a feel, I will drain your trust fund so fast your head will spin."

He knew it wasn't an empty threat. No, Oliver knew precisely what she was capable of.

The girl was in his third period class and just last month Clinton Hogue, an asshole wrestler who sat behind him, had called her a slut and started a couple of rumors about her. Felicity had hacked his phone and gotten a nude picture of him, in retaliation, then had it published in the school newspaper. It had taken the administration half a day to realize what had happened, but despite all of the finger pointing in her direction, no one could actually prove it was Felicity who'd done it. It was actually really impressive and funny, since he didn't like Hogue. The guy had deserved it.

Oliver wasn't looking to get on her shit list, that was for sure.

He threw a hand up—the hand that wasn't still currently around Felicity's waist, holding her steady—defensively. "I'm not going to do anything to incur any more of your wrath," he smirked. "I've got enough of it coming my way for the arrow to the leg, don't you think?"

Felicity clearly wasn't expecting that response. Her mouth opened and closed once before her gaze softened just a fraction, and when she spoke again, it was with less vitriol than before.

"Who even does archery, anymore?" Felicity complained, leaning into him slightly, letting him take a little more of her weight as they slowly started making their way for the building. "It looks absolutely ridiculous to me."

"It can be fun. I took classes last summer."

"Why?" Felicity asked, and Oliver had to wonder if the scowl on her face was permanently ingrained, because he'd never seen her without it. Not around him, at least. "Was the teacher hot or something? Or is it just a rich people thing?"

Oliver stopped, causing Felicity to stumble a bit, but he tightened his hold on her waist to keep her from falling.

"No," he growled. "And the teacher wasn't hot. The teacher was almost sixty. And a guy." He sighed and started forward again, slowly so he didn't cause her any more pain. "I took classes with my sister over the summer. She's eight and likes that Robin Hood movie, but she was scared to try it by herself, so..." He shrugged, trailing off.

He'd felt bad for Thea. None of her friends had felt quite as enthusiastic as she had about archery lessons last summer, so when he'd heard she had no one to go with, he'd stepped in. He was ten years older than her, and even though spending three days a week learning archery with your little sister might not be considered cool at eighteen, the look Thea'd had on her face at the end of their first lesson certainly was. To Oliver, at least. He wasn't sure what this girl would think of it.

Oliver huffed quietly to himself, realizing Felicity would probably think he was a loser for caring. But what did he care what this girl thought of him? Felicity Smoak, with her baggy cargo pants and nose ring, could bite him if she thought spending time with his sister made him less cool in some way. God, being Thea's brother was usually the only thing about himself Oliver actually liked.

Not that Felicity had probably ever thought Oliver was cool, he realized, as they shuffled forward in silence. His friends certainly did, at least half the school thought he was a god, but he knew it was his money and looks that made him so popular. Felicity was smart, much smarter than anyone else at their school, so he knew, out of everyone, she realized how lacking he was in every other department. He could feel it, her judgement, rolling off of her whenever she was in close proximity. No, maybe not judgement, closer to disappointment, perhaps.

She was the kind of girl who was into activism and had opinions about politics and education and stuff. He was the guy who partied and wasn't even sure who the student class president was, let alone what they did.

He thought it might be a girl... He was pretty sure he'd slept with her.

"Ow!" Felicity cried as he helped her through the door and into the school. There was a slight step up and she had to hop, using him as support. Then they were in the hall, the hall filled with students on their way to and from different classes.

Shit, he thought. When did the bell ring?

"Ow, shit," Felicity muttered as someone bumped her shoulder, causing her to stumble and put too much pressure on her leg. "Oliver..."

He quickly scooped her up into his arms, ready to silence any protests she made, because with the halls full of students pushing and bumping into one another, carrying her was the easiest way to get her to the nurse without further injury. But Felicity didn't protest, she didn't even complain. She just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tried to tuck in her injured leg so no one bumped into it.

He got her to the nurse as fast as possible, quickly explaining to Nurse Garcia what had happened. The woman's eyes went wide when she heard Felicity had been shot with an arrow, but she looked at the wound and decided it was something that could be taken care of at school. No ambulance necessary.

She left the two of them in the office, Felicity sitting on a small cot with crinkly paper spread out across the top of it, Oliver standing awkwardly beside her, not knowing what to say or do. At least when he'd been carrying her he'd had a purpose. Now he wasn't sure if he should stay or if she'd prefer him to just go.

"Thank you, Oliver," Felicity said, voice soft and warm. Warmer than he'd ever heard it. It was the warmth, more than the words themselves, that caught him by surprise. "And I'm sorry for being a bitch. You spending time with your sister is really sweet. She's lucky to have a brother like you."

She wouldn't meet his eyes directly, but Oliver was pretty sure she was blushing.

"Though," she added, lightly, "I kind of wish you two had chosen anything but archery. Could have saved me a lot of trouble."

Oliver huffed out a surprised laugh, a grin spreading across his face at her teasing. He hadn't been expecting that. He hadn't expected anything but more anger.

"I am really sorry, Felicity," he said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I didn't mean to hit you. I hate that I hurt you."

"I know," she nodded, and Oliver was shocked to see a small smile tipping the corners of her lips up. "It was an accident. Don't worry, your trust fund's safe."

His own smile softened, and he leaned down so they were eye to eye. "Thank you."

He wasn't invading her personal space or anything, but he was close enough to see the blush staining her cheeks again.

"Here we go," Nurse Garcia said, coming back into the room, holding some antiseptic spray, gauze, and an ice pack. "It's not so deep you need stitches, but I'd like to wash it out and bandage it to make sure it doesn't get infected. You never know where those arrows have been," she added with a laugh.

Oliver stepped back, but his gaze held Felicity's blue one until the nurse stepped between them to see to Felicity's wound.

"Oliver, dear," Nurse Garcia said, "you should get to your next class so you're not late. Ms. Smoak will be fine."

Oliver nodded, throwing one last glance Felicity's way. She smiled at him, the thu-thump in his chest at the sight catching him off guard, but he didn't have anytime to think about it before she was flinching away from the nurse.

"Ow! That stings! You didn't say it was going to sting."

Oliver chuckled to himself, listening to Felicity's complaints as he walked back out into the hall and headed for his next class.

He spun his head left and then right, looking around. What class was he supposed to be in this period?

•••

The next day, as Oliver walked down the hall to his third period class—Tommy Merlyn at his side, talking about something that someone had said at the basketball game last night—he spotted Felicity at her locker.

She was standing, so he knew she was alright, but he noticed the little limp as she slammed her locker shut and turned to go to class. Their eyes met and locked, the same way they had yesterday in the nurse's office. Tommy was still talking, people were walking by between them, but all Oliver could focus on was the girl with the dark lipstick and blue eyes across the hall.

He didn't realize he'd stopped walking until he heard Tommy say, "What are you doing?"

Oliver ignored him.

"Want me to carry your books?" he asked Felicity, trying not to seem too eager, but wanting to be helpful. And also just wanting to see if whatever truce they'd come to yesterday was still in effect today.

He shifted nervously on his feet when she just looked at him.

"Alright," she finally agreed, a smile taking over her features. "It's better than you trying to carry me again, right?"

She walked over, handing him her books, and fell into step beside him as they walked to their third period class. He knew Tommy was staring, incredulously, between the two of them, trying to figure out what was going on, why he was being friendly with the school goth, but Oliver didn't look away from the girl beside him.

"Felicity, this is Tommy Merlyn," he introduced. "Tommy, Felicity Smoak."

"It's nice to meet you," Tommy said, confusion clear in his tone, but he didn't say anything else.

"Nice to meet you, too, Tommy," Felicity said, taking hold of Oliver's arm so she could lean forward to look over at Tommy. "Did Oliver tell you he shot me in the leg with an arrow yesterday?" she asked. "Because he did. And it hurt. A lot."

"It was a graze," Oliver muttered, shaking his head. "You're fine."

"Whatever you say, Robin Hood," Felicity laughed.

Next to him, Tommy grinned. "Oh, I think I like her," he said, and Oliver laughed.

I do, too, he thought, glancing down at the girl beside him. I do, too.

Chapter Text

If you had told Oliver Queen at twenty-two that one day he'd own a coffee shop in a small town, and love it, he'd have laughed in your face and gone back to whatever girl he was planning on going home with that night.

But Oliver was proud of the life he'd built in the small town of Northbell the last few years, and of the business he'd started with his own money and dedication.

His money, not his father's. Money Oliver had worked hard for, doing odd jobs at barely over minimum wage until he'd saved enough. It meant something to him, because he'd never worked hard for anything before. He'd never had to.

Five years ago when his dad froze his trust fund and told him he needed to get his life together, Oliver had been angry. He'd lashed out, rebelled against his parents wishes. He'd ended up living on Tommy's couch until Tommy's father, Malcolm, had decided Tommy needed to learn the same lesson. Then he'd been out on his own, a homeless billionaire with no job or even any skills.

So Oliver had bought a plane ticket across the country and tried to out run his reputation.

Surprisingly, it had worked.

Most people in Northbell had never heard of him. The ones who had were nice about it. The pleasures of living in a small town, he supposed. That and everyone came into his café at one point or another. It was the only place in town you could get a decent coffee.

Within three years Oliver Queen had gone from making the tabloids at least twice a week, to sitting at a table in the front of his coffee shop trying to figure out how to use this new inventory program he'd purchased. It was supposed to help with balancing his books and keeping track of everything, but it was only proving to be a pain in the ass. He was tempted to delete the program and just go back to writing everything he bought and sold in a notebook. But he was trying to expand his business, get a second shop up and running in Brighton, and if he wanted to do that, he'd need a way to keep track of everything since he couldn't be at both stores at once.

Shaking his head, he stood to grab himself another cup of coffee. There was no way he was going to figure this program out without more caffeine.

"How's it going, Oliver?" Mrs. Sanderson, a kind older woman who worked in the post office, asked as Oliver rounded the counter.

Roy Harper, the kid Oliver was considering for the manager position at the new location, was already taking care of Mrs. Sanderson's order, so Oliver poured himself a cup and grabbed a pastry from the rack.

"Pretty good," he answered. "Having some computer issues, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. You having a good day?"

"You should get that cute new girl to take a look at the computer for you," Mrs. Sanderson suggested with a wink, ignoring Oliver's pleasantries and grabbing her order from Roy. "Rena—you know Rena Alvarez—says she helped her get her internet working last week."

Oliver smiled, rolling his eyes slightly. Sometimes he felt everyone over the age of forty in this town was trying to set him up. At least this time it wasn't with one of their granddaughters.

As far as the "cute new girl" went, Oliver had never seen her. Which was a feat, since she'd rented the office space next door to Oliver's cafe almost a month ago. His only excuse was that he'd been in Brighton a lot recently, scouting spaces and trying to make a second location a reality.

According to Roy, she stopped in for coffee almost every day, and had even taken to setting up at a table in the corner to work sometimes. Every busybody in town—and in a town like Northbell there were a lot of them—seemed keen for him to meet her, but Oliver wasn't looking for a relationship at the moment. For once in his life, work was his priority and he was happy with it.

"I don't think she can help with this particular problem," Oliver said, smiling politely.

In fact, he was pretty sure the woman renting the space next door was not in the business of fixing any computer problems. The sign on the door read "Smoak Technologies", but there were no advertisements for services anywhere and he figured she was just using the space as an office.

"Well, you'll never know if you don't ask," Mrs. Sanderson said. She wished Oliver a good day before turning to leave.

"Felicity probably would help you," Roy offered.

Oliver turned to see the kid, a towel thrown over one shoulder, washing out a carafe at the sink.

"I don't need help. I'll get the hang of it," he protested, grabbing his coffee and his snack and heading back to work. He didn't need help, especially from a stranger. He'd figure it out, he had faith in himself.

He'd just gotten back to work when the door opened, bell jingling lightly with the arrival of the newcomer.

People coming and going wasn't anything special. There were a few people in the café, seated at various tables, sipping their coffee and eating the pastries Oliver had baked fresh this morning. But, for some reason, Oliver glanced up at the new arrival.

And then his heart stopped.

"Roooooyyyyy," the girl groaned as she dragged herself up to the counter. She had blonde hair, pulled back into a pony tail, and was wearing glasses. "I need coffee. So. Much. Coffee."

Roy grinned at her, already reaching over for a mug. "Rough day, Felicity?"

Felicity. This was Felicity.

"You have no idea." Felicity leaned against the counter, staring at the different pastries in the clear plastic rack. "I deserve some chocolate for all the crap I've put up with today," she said, pointing at a chocolate drizzled croissant. "You'd think having an internet based company would mean you didn't have to deal with customers as much, but no. I deal with them more now then I ever did when I was in retail in college."

Roy laughed and handed her her coffee and croissant. "Well, enjoy your break. Let me know if you want a to-go cup when you're finished."

She tilted her head to the side, and Oliver could just imagine the look of 'really?' that would be etched across her face. "Roy," she said, voice serious, "when have I ever not wanted a to-go cup?"

Oliver didn't realize he'd been staring, coffee cup halfway to his mouth, until she turned around. The moment her eyes met his, a small, surprised smirk tipping her lips up, he jerked back, an electric current racing down his spine. The mug in his hand tumbled down, out of his grip and directly onto his keyboard. The steaming liquid slashed all over his arms and legs, but Oliver's focus was suddenly on his laptop.

"Shit!"

Oliver grabbed the computer, wrenching it up and away from the spill, but he knew it was too late. The screen had gone black and coffee dripped from between the keys.

"Turn it upside down!"

Oliver did as he was told, belatedly realizing it was Felicity beside him, telling him what to do. She placed her coffee and croissant on the table, before grabbing a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table, wadding them up and wiping the mess up quickly.

"Put it down and let me see," she ordered, already pulling out a chair.

"I... I think it's dead," Oliver said as she poked and prodded at the computer, examining the damage. "Shit," he cursed again, grabbing his slightly coffee stained paperwork to make sure it hadn't been ruined, as well. "Four hours of work," he muttered, "and it's all gone."

"The motherboard's definitely fried," Felicity agreed with a nod. "But I can get your information back. Well, I can probably get your information back," she amended. "You did save recently, right? Because if you did you're probably fine, but if not, then... well, you'll be learning that lesson the hard way."

Oliver could only stare at the tiny blonde. "I just saved," he said. "A few minutes ago, so..."

"You'll be fine," she assured him with a smile. One that had Oliver wanting to smile back. "I'm Felicity. Smoak."

"Oliver Queen," he introduced himself, holding a hand out for her to shake before he realized that his hands were still sticky from coffee. He pulled back, grabbing a napkin to clean himself up. "Sorry."

"Oliver..." She said his name slowly, her eyes wide and roaming his face. Eventually she shook her head, laughing a little. "You're the owner of this place. Everyone's been telling me I need to meet you."

"Yeah," he chuckled, slightly embarrassed that this woman had been bombarded with unsolicited romantic advice the same way he had. "I haven't been around much or else I would have made a point to introduce myself."

Felicity met his eyes, watching him for a long moment before looking down at his laptop. "I can... I can get your files back for you, at my office. If you want."

Oliver nodded, giving her a grateful smile. "Yeah, I'd appreciate that. I was taking care of some paperwork," he nodded down towards his pile of scribbled on notebook paper, "and I'd hate to have to start all over again."

"No problem," Felicity said, glancing up at him, beaming. "I haven't gotten to do much practical IT work since I started my company. Too busy coding new apps and stuff. Not," she said, eyes wide, hands held out defensively in front of her, "that I don't love my job or the work I'm doing, but it's nice to get back to my roots every once in a while."

Oliver just smiled a little. "Well, I appreciate it."

She nodded, then grabbed his laptop and started for the door. He scooped up her coffee and croissant, following as she led the way to her office next door.

•••

He walked back into the café over three hours later, but only because Roy texted him that they were busy and needed some help.

He'd really hit it off with Felicity, so much so he felt a little bad for rolling his eyes at Mrs. Sanderson's suggestion earlier.

Felicity had transferred his hard drive to a spare laptop she'd had lying around in the piles of computer parts in her storage room, then she'd helped him figure out his inventory software. After that they'd just... talked. For hours.

Oliver had never done that before, but he liked it. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face, even when Roy started teasing him about it. Not that Oliver cared. He was already trying to figure out ways to see Felicity again.

It was almost closing time when the bell above the door jingled for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Oliver looked up, pleasantly surprised to see Felicity standing at the counter.

"Hey," he greeted softly. He knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he couldn't help it.

"Hi." She bit her lip, before taking a deep breath. "I was just wondering if you wanted to, maybe... um, get dinner with me?"

She looked so nervous, standing there wringing her hands. Waiting for his reply. How could she think he'd say anything but yes?

"Tonight?" he asked, not caring how eager he sounded. "We can go right after I close up, if you want."

Oliver could see the tension practically whoosh out of Felicity's body at his answer. "Yeah," she laughed. "That sounds good."

She took a step back, pointing over her shoulder at the door. "I'll go lock up and then I'll..." She glanced down at herself with a grimace. "I will go home and change into something that isn't this."

"Felicity," he said, rounding the counter. "You look great."

"Thank you, but it's been a while since I've been on a date and I would really like to look like I'm, you know, on a date..." Felicity's face flushed, suddenly. "I mean, if you want this to be a date. You might not, I didn't really specify—"

"Felicity." He gently grasped her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs in small circles, trying to calm her down. "This is definitely a date. There's this Italian restaurant over in Brighton that I'd like to take you to. Do you like Italian?"

"Yes," she said, smiling again.

"Then I'll pick you up in an hour, alright?"

Felicity rattled off her address and then turned to leave. Just as she reached the door, she spun to face him, a small smile tugging on her lips. Without a word, she marched back across the room, leaned up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek.

She pulled back slowly, cheeks red. Oliver could only grin back.

"I'll see you in an hour." With that she left, a bounce in her step that made Oliver smile.

"You do know," Roy said, startling him. Oliver spun to see the boy stacking the dishes on the shelves behind the counter. "Once everyone in town finds out that you two went on a date, they're going to be constantly in your business, right?"

Oliver was used to dealing with people in his business. From his parents to the paparazzi. He'd hated the attention growing up. But, for the chance to spend more time with Felicity, the people of Northbell could publish his relationship status in the town newsletter for all he cared.

Oliver shrugged, walking back to help Roy clean up.

"Worth it," was all he said.

The smile on his face said the rest.

Chapter Text

"Yooooo!" Felicity shouted at the top of her lungs, bouncing on her toes. "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!"

The music was blaring as she danced in the living room of the loft. Oliver was sitting on the couch in front of her, going through a box of pictures of him and Thea as children, trying to decide which ones he wanted to frame. He ignored her completely as she danced.

They'd just moved into the loft a month ago and, even though they'd unpacked, Felicity still thought the place could use a little more homey vibe to it. She'd put their pictures from over the summer all over the living room and bedroom, she'd even put up a couple of her and her mom. Now it was Oliver's turn and he seemed to be enjoying taking his time, looking through every photo of his family. He kept turning them around to show her, telling her little stories.

He'd given up the moment the magic that is 'Wannabe' came on her Spotify playlist. She'd taught him well over the last few months.

"If you want my future," Felicity sang, bobbing her head to the beat and swinging her hips, "forget my past. If you wanna get with me better make it faaaast!"

She noticed Oliver stand up and move towards the kitchen, probably checking on dinner. Mmm. She couldn't wait. They'd spent most of their Saturday running errands, trying to get everything done before they had to go to the lair, but Oliver still managed to cook her favorite for her.

"Now don't go wasting my precious time!" Felicity spun in place, reaching a hand out to point at Oliver, who wasn't in the kitchen like she'd suspected, but by the door. Holding it open for Thea, John and Laurel. "Get your act together we... could..."

Felicity trailed off, face flushing as she realized her whole team had just seen her spinning in her living room like an idiot. That was the kind of thing Felicity reserved for when she was alone.

Sure, Oliver had seen her, but he didn't count. Which, Felicity realized, was ironic since not too long ago he'd have been the only one she didn't want to see her doing something embarrassing. But now he was just Oliver. And, at this point, he'd seen her do far more embarrassing things than just singing along to the Spice Girls.

Felicity stared at her friends, who were still standing in the doorway, watching her with amused looks on their faces. Oh, she was going to kill Oliver. Why hadn't he warned her? And the look on his stupid face while he stood there, watching her shift awkwardly as the music continued to blare around them, wasn't helping his case any.

Then, before she could say anything, Thea strut forward into the apartment, hand held out in front of her like a microphone, singing, "I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ahh!"

Thea thrust out a hip on the 'ahh' and Felicity burst out laughing, hooking a finger in the younger girl's direction. The two of them continued to sing, while Laurel sat down on the couch, laughing.

"Thank god, you're here!" Felicity heard Oliver shout over the music. She couldn't make out the rest of what he said, but she could see John shaking his head while Oliver handed him a beer.

"Not that I'm complaining," Felicity said, plopping down next to Laurel once the music faded into a different song. "But what are you guys doing here?"

"Ollie invited us for dinner," Thea said, squinting in Felicity's direction. "He didn't tell you?"

Felicity whipped her head over to Oliver who was carrying a tray of crackers and cheese into the living room, John following closely behind with a bottle of wine in one hand and his beer in the other.

"No," Felicity said, with a glare in his direction. "He did not."

"I did tell you," Oliver said, a smug smile on his lips. "This morning."

Felicity was about to protest when Oliver leaned in, whispering about what they'd been doing when he'd told her. He pulled back, smirking as Felicity's face went bright red at the thought of how they'd spent their morning.

"It's not my fault you were too distracted to pay attention," he said, sitting down beside her on the couch. He reached to pour her a glass of wine. "Or, actually, maybe it is."

Felicity's eyes widened, but she was cut off by all three of her friends groaning in disgust.

Oliver was laughing, joking with Thea about their family pictures. John joining in now and then, a smile on his face as the siblings shared embarrassing memories of their childhood. Laurel glanced over at Felicity, rolling her eyes at something Oliver was teasing Thea about.

For the first time since they'd left Starling, Felicity finally felt like she was home. Oliver seemed to catch onto her thoughts because he turned to smile at her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I'm glad we came back," he whispered into her hair.

"So am I," she said, snuggling into his side as they talked and laughed with their friends.

Chapter Text

They were lying in wait.

That was Felicity's over dramatic way of saying they were waiting for Oliver to get home. He'd been called away on mayoral business—she'd never get used to Oliver being the mayor—and had left Felicity alone... with William.

For the first time.

To say she'd been terrified when Oliver told her he needed to leave for a few hours, was the understatement of the year.

Felicity wasn't a kid person. She liked kids, of course, but she'd never been around kids. She hadn't had any siblings, or friends with kids. Baby Sara was different, because she was only two. She just sat there playing with her toys and loving everybody. But William was almost ten. He had thoughts and opinions, and she was terrified he was going to hate her. Or worse, that she would be uncomfortable around him the entire time.

Being uncomfortable around Oliver's son was possibly the worst thing she could imagine. What if that meant she was just no good with kids? What if she felt just as uncomfortable when it was her and Oliver's child?

Oliver was so good with William, like it was instinctual. Maybe it was, or maybe it was just practice from growing up with Thea. All Felicity knew was that something clicked in him around William and he became "good dad", while Felicity always just felt like she was floundering. Maybe it was because her relationship with her mother had always been so different than most people's or because her relationship with her father was practically nonexistent.

But no matter how awkward she felt around William, Felicity was never going to stop trying to connect with him. She couldn't. He was Oliver's, and she might not have liked the way she learned about William, but she liked the boy himself. He was a sweet kid, and he reminded her so much of Oliver sometimes. It always caught her off guard when he'd make a face or ask a question that just shouted "Oliver!" to her. But they hadn't spent much time alone, maybe a minute or two here and there. And Felicity wasn't sure how to handle a relationship with him.

So, when Oliver had left for work and William sat down on the couch, fiddling with his action figure, looking decidedly less happy than when his mom had dropped him off that morning, Felicity knew she had to do something. This was a bonding moment and she wasn't going to waste it.

"Let's go," she'd said, gesturing for him to get his coat.

William jumped up immediately, walking to the door and putting on his tiny parka. "Where are we going?" he'd asked, zipping the jacket up.

"Um..." Felicity hadn't planned that far ahead, unfortunately, but she had always been quick on her toes. "The toy store!"

William had given her a skeptical, but hopeful look. "For what?"

Felicity had knelt down beside the boy. "We could get a game," she'd said. "Or something to keep us entertained until your dad comes home. Maybe we could..."

Felicity had trailed off, having remembered something she'd seen on the Internet.

"I know exactly what we can do," she'd told him excitedly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and steering him towards the door as she let him in on her plan.

Now, the two of them were crouched behind the railing of the second story of the loft. Waiting.

"How long ago did he text?" William asked, neatly sorting the orange foam bullets into easy to reach piles beside them.

"Fifteen minutes," Felicity said, pulling up Oliver's GPS on her phone to check his location. She smiled when she saw that Oliver was already in the building. "You ready, over there?" she asked, and William nodded. "Good, because he's here."

William grinned and tugged the Nerf gun to his chest, finger already getting twitchy on the trigger.

"Not until I give the signal," she reminded him as they heard the sound of Oliver's key in the lock.

William nodded, oddly serious for a child about to unload a gun full of foamy bullets into his father.

"Felicity?" Oliver called as he entered the loft. From their hiding spot they could make out his back as he walked into the room. "William? You guys here?"

Felicity could see William cracking. His smile was huge—which tugged at a place inside Felicity that she'd never felt until that very moment—and he began to fidget.

"Not yet," Felicity whispered as silently as possible. It did not surprise Felicity in the least that Oliver's son was turning out to be just as impatient as the man himself. Like father, like son, she supposed.

But William got himself under control, just as Oliver turned to the kitchen and the note that they'd left for him there. Along with his very own Nerf gun.

She peaked through the glass of the railing, watching as he read the note. She could practically see him slip into Arrow mode when he realized what was about to happen.

The moment his hand reached for the gun, Felicity gave the signal, nodding her head at William, and together they both leaped to their feet, unleashing a hail of orange foam at Oliver's back. Oliver spun around the moment he heard movement, but unlike Felicity and William, he only shot one Nerf bullet. It flew up, but bounced off the glass railing before it could hit either of them.

She could see him take in the dart's path, studying the way the foamy projectile flew through the air and the angle at which he held the toy gun like it was life or death. Then he unloaded two more darts, all the while evading the spray of falling foam from his fiancé and son.

His first dart flew low, but straight, bouncing soundly off of William's forehead. Felicity watched as the boy rubbed the spot between his eyes with a grumbled, "Ow!"

Something orange struck her glasses before she could even process that Oliver had somehow hit William squarely between the eyes with a foam dart, from at least fifteen feet away. Her surprise that Oliver had been able to do the exact same thing to her caused her to take a step back.

He was an amazing shot, but with foam projectiles? She was more than a little impressed. And surprisingly turned on.

Oliver used their surprise and distraction to bound up the stairs towards them. Without even slowing his pace, he scooped up William before the boy could reload his Nerf gun, his little legs trailing out behind him as Oliver spun him in a circle.

Felicity would never get over the look on Oliver's face whenever he played with his son. Whether it was action figures or video games, or something as simple as spinning in a circle, Oliver was a great dad and he loved spending time with William. Felicity knew it for a fact, and it only made her love him all the more.

He met her eyes, placing William back on his feet, and leaned down towards her. "Thank you," he whispered, emotion choking his voice.

Felicity shook her head. "You don't have to thank me."

Oliver leaned closer, his lips just inches from her's when Felicity was suddenly being pelted by a barrage of darts. Oliver laughed, pulling her into his chest to protect her from his son's sneak attack.

"There's no kissing in war!" William exclaimed. "He's the enemy, Felicity! You can't kiss the enemy during a battle."

Felicity laughed, throwing the kid a wink and backing up from Oliver. "He's right," she said, bending down to pick something up from the stash of weapons they'd bought at the toy store.

She stood, wielding a foam sword in front of her fiancé. She'd never handled a sword before, not for fighting purposes anyway, but she tried to mimic the technique she'd seen Oliver and Thea use.

Oliver laughed, blue eyes twinkling as he watched her. He raised an eyebrow when she stepped towards him, twirling the sword in her hand.

He raised his hands defensively and whispered, "Would you take it easy on me if I said you look incredibly hot right now?"

Felicity laughed, then tilted her head, giving him a contemplative look. "You know, I might... but I don't think my partner is up for that kind of deal."

Just then William jumped out from behind Oliver with a yell, Nerf sword in hand like he was in some sort of bad martial arts movie. He waved the toy back and forth like he was already in battle.

Oliver spotted a third sword on the ground and bent quickly to pick it up, taking a step away from the two of them. With the sword held out in front of him, he crooked his fingers at his son—going right along with the bad martial arts movie vibe William had going—challenging him to attack.

And William did.

Leaning back against the railing, Felicity watched Oliver duel his son in Nerf swords. As far as duels Oliver has participated in, this was the only one Felicity had ever felt the urge to document. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, pulling up her camera app and hitting record. She'd have to make sure Samantha got a copy of this.

William was trying to take Oliver down, and even with a foam sword, Oliver blocked him. Not every blow, but enough that it was a challenge for William. Then, with a surge forward, William swung the sword, hitting Oliver squarely in the hip and Oliver groaned exaggeratedly, falling to his knees.

"Ugh," Oliver moaned dramatically, "you got me."

William threw his hands in the air, sword held high above his head, celebrating his victory. Oliver watched him with a small, happy smile on his face, then reached forward pulling the boy to his chest.

"Dad!" William laughed as Oliver dragged him down to the floor, tickling the boy's sides. "Felicity, help me!"

Felicity put her phone away, leaping into the fray, tickling Oliver and trying to turn the tables.

With Oliver's attention on Felicity, William ran to get his Nerf gun, reloading it and pointing it in their direction.

"Dad wins round one," William announced, as Felicity and Oliver sat up to look at him. "But Felicity and I are going to win round two."

He tossed a loaded Nerf gun to Felicity and reached out to help her up, even though he was half her size.

"Let's go Felicity! We gotta hide so Dad doesn't beat us right away!"

Felicity grinned, getting to her feet. "You ready for round two?" she asked Oliver as he stood beside her.

He leaned in, a smug smile on his face as he kissed the side of her head and whispered, "I'll always be ready for round two with you, Felicity, but it will have to wait. I have to kick your cute little ass in a Nerf war first."

Felicity blushed, but she couldn't wipe the grin off her face as she raced William to the other side of the loft, preparing to win this war and wipe that smug look off of Oliver's face.

Chapter Text

Being bored at work was nothing new for Felicity. After all, she had been overqualified for a job in the I.T. department, so working as an executive assistant was beyond boring.

Back in I.T., whenever she got bored, she’d just start a new project, or help some of her colleagues out if they were backed up. But she was so overqualified for this new “job” she was pretty sure it was melting her brain.

She understood Oliver’s point about needing her closer. She even sort of liked that he wanted her closer, not that she’d ever admit it, because he didn’t mean it like THAT, she knew. But being his assistant, executive or not, was so mind-numbingly dull. More and more Felicity found herself trying to entertain herself at work, whether that was through “Arrow” related work or just surfing the Internet.

She knew Oliver didn’t care what she did at work. God knows, he didn’t even care what HE did at work. He didn’t want to be there any more than she did. It was almost like he was miserable so he wanted to bring everyone down with him.

Felicity knew that that wasn’t the case, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering from time to time. He’d been forced into this position he didn’t want, so he’d forced her into one she didn’t.

But she knew he couldn’t handle running the company without her help, even if she herself was floundering most of the time. Business wasn’t Oliver’s strong suit, he was more the “mess with my city and I’ll whoop your ass” type. It was a very specific type and also one of the things she liked best about him. He, literally, had no time for mundane day-to-day issues, such as running a multi-billion dollar company. She couldn’t fault him for it, even if picking up his slack made her want to rip her hair out some days.

But, picking up Oliver’s slack was still better than what she was doing right now. Sitting all alone in the quiet office, Felicity was reading a gossip blog. That’s how bored she was!

It had started out innocently enough. She’d been doing a simple search to make sure no one was talking about Oliver Queen in any Arrow-related capacity. The last thing they needed was for someone to make a connection between the two, that could only snowball out of control. And, once it did, Felicity wouldn’t be able to stop it. Better she keep an eye out now and catch anything before it picked up speed.

In her search she’d spotted Oliver’s name a few times. He was mentioned on a few business blogs—their mentions were not very flattering, Felicity noticed—once on social media by some girl that spotted him in Verdant over the weekend, and once in the society section of the Starling Gazette. Then, because she was bored—he’d put her in this position so it was his fault, really—she’d let herself look further.

It wasn’t like she’d never looked him up before, of course she had. But she’d never allowed herself to really LOOK, you know? So when she noticed the tiny mention of him on one of Starling’s gossip sites and the link to the archive of related articles at the bottom of the page, she didn’t feel bad about clicking it. She didn’t.

This was his fault, after all. She wouldn’t be doing this if she was in I.T. and had things to do. Besides, what was the harm of looking? She already knew most of his secrets, and she’d bet they were a lot juicier than anything the Starling Snoop had to offer.

The first thing she noticed was the huge gap in the archived headlines. The hole from 2007 until 2012 made sense, as did the lack of recent stories on Oliver. He wasn’t overly fond of making it into the headlines these days. Not as Oliver Queen, at least.

She scrolled down to the bottom of the list, until something caught her attention.

“Starling’s Darlings Bare All at 20th Birthday Bash”

Felicity rolled her eyes at the headline, but clicked it, because… Because.

It was a small article about a party Tommy Merlyn had held back in 2005 for Oliver’s twentieth birthday. The article reported there being almost six hundred guests, which was a number mind boggling to Felicity since her last birthday consisted of a phone call from her mom and getting dinner after work with Dig. Not that she was complaining, because it had been a great birthday, but wow. Six hundred people wanted to celebrate Oliver’s birthday with him…

No wonder he was so screwed up, she thought. That many people—mostly strangers, probably—trying to be a part of your life, wanting something from you… It hurt Felicity to think about how Oliver must have felt at that party. Alone, came to mind, but she knew that hadn’t been the case back then. That’s how her Oliver would feel, not twenty year old Oliver.

Not that Oliver was HER Oliver, in any capacity, but she knew what she’d meant.

In the middle of the article was a picture of Oliver and Tommy, shirtless and surrounded by girls in bikinis. One girl wasn’t wearing a top, but she was pressed so tightly to Oliver’s side that nothing inappropriate was showing, except, you know, that she was half naked and pressing her breasts into Oliver in public.

She couldn’t help the jealous twinge in her gut at the picture, though she tried to ignore it. Oliver wasn’t her’s. Though, she thought with a hint of smugness, if he were hers, she’d gotten the better deal.

The Oliver of 2005 was fit, but not in the way she was used to. He was thin, a little lanky. His shoulders were broad, but his chest wasn’t as defined as it was now. His muscles weren’t toned and bulging like they did whenever he worked out in front of her. And don’t even get her started on his hair. It stuck limply to his forehead, dripping water into his eyes. In the picture Oliver was grinning, but he didn’t look happy. He didn’t look like Oliver.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t cute, he was. Oliver would always be cute to her. But there was just something about him now. His short hair that she wanted to run her hands through to see if it was as soft as it looked. His well-muscled chest and arms and… body. The small smile on his lips when he thought something she’d said or done was funny.

Oliver wasn’t this brash, obnoxious twenty year old anymore. He had become a man in mind and body and she was completely smitten with that man. If he didn’t reciprocate, it wasn’t a big deal. It was a crush, and looking back at the photo she totally understood why she had a crush on her partner.

He’d come so far.

“Felicity!”

Felicity nearly jumped out of her skin at Oliver’s voice, jerking back from her desk.

“What?” she chirped. When had he gotten here? She hadn’t heard him… Damn him and his stealthiness.
Oliver looked confused, before his expression melted into amusement. “I was trying to ask you if there was anything going on today,” he said slowly, before smirking. “What are you looking at that’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing!” Felicity rolled her chair forward, reaching for her mouse to click out of her internet browser and the embarrassment of being caught looking at pictures of Oliver, but he was faster.

He grabbed her mouse and rested a hip on her desk, turning her monitor slightly so he could see what she’d been looking at. His amused expression fell off of his face, his mouth falling open as he saw the picture on her screen.

“Oh. That…” He shook his head. “That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” Felicity agreed quickly. “I know. I wasn’t… I wasn’t judging or anything. I was just searching your name to make sure no one was mentioning any funny business, because that would be distinctly not funny.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry. I stumbled across this site and just clicked it.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, looking a little embarrassed. “I did those things and now they’re on the internet forever. Of course, you’d find them eventually.”

He chuckled, and glanced back at the photo.

“I was kind of a douche, wasn’t I?” he asked with a sad smile.

“I didn’t know you back then,” she said with a small shake of her head.

“And I’m glad,” he told her. His lips pinched into a tight line and he breathed in through his nose. “You would have hated me.”

Felicity felt her heart break a little for him. “I don’t think I could ever hate you, Oliver.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked back at her, and Felicity could swear she saw something flicker in his eyes. She didn’t dare allow herself to think too hard about what it could have been.

“Come on,” he said finally, hopping off the desk. “There’s got to be something we’re supposed to be doing today.”

“There’s not,” she informed him. “I already tried being productive, but then…” She waved in the general direction of her monitor, which still displayed the article. “But, since you’re here now, there are some calls you can make. Investor stuff.”

She could see Oliver physically react to that, his whole body tensing. He really didn’t want to talk to investors, but he nodded without complaint. “Alright, if you’ll come help me,” he said. “I need my Girl Friday.”

Felicity fought hard to bite back her dopey grin at being called his girl anything. Instead she raised an eyebrow. “You remembered,” she said, and fine, if she couldn’t completely keep the grin off her face, so what?

“Of course,” he smiled back, his blue eyes warm and playful. “Now come on. Who am I supposed to talk to and about what exactly?”

Felicity laughed, grabbing a folder on her desk with the names of the people Oliver needed to speak to, and leading him into his office.

Being an assistant was boring, but she wasn’t just an assistant. She was a vigilante and a friend. And if she had to be bored at work, at least she was bored at work with Oliver.

Chapter Text

There was no way Oliver Queen was staying with his family for the holidays.

Visiting them? Sure. Actually staying in his family's mansion? Not so much.

Three years ago, Oliver had been sent away to college, per his father's orders. It was either that, or have his trust fund taken away, so Oliver had begrudgingly given in and headed to Yale to major in business. He'd already dropped out of four other schools and he knew this time would be no different.

Until it was.

His father died halfway through his first semester in a freak boating accident. After that, Oliver knew he needed to get his act together. He was the man of the family, the rightful heir to a billion dollar company. One that, without the degree his father desperately wanted for him, he'd have no clue how to run.

So Oliver had tried, for maybe the first time in his life.

It didn't hurt that his personal bodyguard, John Diggle, was there with him every step of the way, stepping in as a big brother figure to him. Without Diggle's encouragement, Oliver knew he wouldn't have survived that first year at Yale, let alone the two after it.

Over the years, Diggle had become family to Oliver. And Oliver's family and friends had become something of strangers to him. He talked regularly to his sister, Thea, but he hadn't seen her since Christmas last year. He and his mother rarely spoke. Moira was of the opinion that Oliver was needed at home, and should transfer to a school closer to Starling. Oliver thought that was possibly the worst idea he'd ever heard.

Just the thought of moving back to Starling City and the past he'd been able to escape these last three years made Oliver anxious to run back to Yale and the life he'd been trying to create for himself there.

He wasn't stupid. Oliver knew exactly what an ass he used to be, but he was different now. He was trying to be different, and going home, staying in his old room, arguing with his mother... It felt too much like falling into old habits for Oliver's taste.

That's how he found himself in the lobby of the Starling City Plaza Hotel, a duffle bag of clothes and a suit bag draped over one shoulder as he waited at the check in counter for a receptionist.

"Hi!" a young blonde chirped in his direction after finishing up with an older couple. Her eyes widened when she recognized him, and her smile instantly turned more flirty than friendly.

That was another reason he hated coming back to Starling. Oliver knew he had a reputation—another thing he'd been trying to change recently—but people in Starling were like elephants. They never forgot.

And they never let him forget.

"Mr. Queen," the girl purred, already clacking away at the keyboard. "I don't see a reservation here. But let me see what I can do for you."

She winked at him in a way that the old Oliver would think was sexy. Sexy enough to get her the invite up to his room she so obviously wanted. But the new and improved Oliver 2.0, as Diggle liked to tease him, wanted no part in any of it. He just wanted to get to his room and maybe take a nap before he had to meet his family for lunch.

"Actually..." Oliver started, but was interrupted by another blonde woman rushing past him and around the counter so fast his garment bag fluttered back and forth in her wake.

"I'm so sorry, Gina," the woman said to the receptionist. She took her purple coat off and threw it under the counter along with her bag. "My mom is here for Hanukkah, and I had to pick her up from the airport this morning, because she got the cheapest flight out and it happened to be the red eye. I got stuck in traffic after I dropped her off at my apartment and—"

"Felicity!" Gina said sharply, glaring at the woman. "I'm with a guest right now..."

"Oh!" Felicity said, eyes going wide as she took Oliver in, but unlike with Gina, Felicity didn't seem to recognize him. No, she was simply embarrassed about babbling in front of a guest of the hotel. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... You know what," she said, turning back to Gina and shaking her head. "I've got this. You've already stayed late because of me." She turned toward Oliver with a bright smile. "What was the name, sir?"

"Dearden," he told her, but Gina was already speaking over him.

"I've got it, Felicity," she hissed, then smiled, trying to cover her annoyance. "Why don't you go get settled and I'll come get you when I'm done?"

"No, it's fine," Oliver cut in, already knowing he'd rather deal with the Babbler than the Possessive Flirt. "She can take care of me."

Gina opened her mouth, like she was actually considering fighting him on it, but Felicity was already sliding in next to the computer. After that, Gina just forced a polite smile and walked away.

"Sorry about that, sir," Felicity apologized. "You said the name was Dearden?"

"Yes."

Felicity typed away at the computer, than handed him a plastic key card. "Room 1905. If you'd just sign here?"

Oliver signed the receipt Felicity gave him then passed it back to her. "Thank you," he told her, a genuine smile on his face for the first time since he'd gotten back to Starling.

•••

Lunch with his mother was basically the verbal equivalent of being waterboarded. No one could tell Oliver otherwise.

She'd interrogated him for almost the entire hour and a half. His only respite from her questions had been when Thea told him about her new boyfriend, Roy, and what she'd been up to recently.

He'd been tempted to invite Dig along as a buffer, but the man had family in Starling too, and while they were here Dig was staying with his brother's family. No matter how bad Oliver's mother got, Dig deserved time with his family, and Oliver wasn't going to bother him with something so trivial as trying to buffer his mother's questions.

As Oliver walked back into the Plaza Hotel, he noticed the blonde from before, the Babbler, struggling to carry a large box across the lobby.

"Hey!" he called, rushing over to her before she and the box went toppling to the ground. "Let me get that."

He grabbed the box from her, realizing why she'd been having so much trouble with it. "What's in here?" he asked. "Bricks?"

The girl—Felicity he thought he remembered and one glance at her name tag confirmed it—laughed and pointed him towards the front counter. "Brochures. Of popular places in Starling. We're supposed to hand them out to guests at check in." She blushed as he placed the box down. "And I just realized I did not offer you one."

She tugged at the tape holding the cardboard together, then reached inside the flaps, ready to give him a tourist guide.

"I don't need one," he assured her. "I've lived in Starling for most of my life. I know all the hotspots, trust me."

He was actually surprised that she hadn't recognized him earlier, almost everyone is Starling did. Even the cab driver that drove him back from lunch had recognized him. But with this girl? Nothing.

"Oh, are you visiting family for the holidays?" she asked politely, taking a stack of brochures from the box and piling them neatly on the counter.

"Yes," Oliver said, pulling another stack from the box. "My mother would have a meltdown if I didn't come home for Christmas. She's always made a big deal of it, but this year seems especially important to her for some reason."

Felicity nodded, grabbing the box of brochures and shoving it under the counter. "My mom can get the same way. She insisted on flying in from Vegas this year and—I love my mother, don't get me wrong—but she's... my mother." Felicity shrugged. "She can be a handful sometimes."

"Well," Oliver said, "at least they care enough to want to celebrate the holidays with us. It could be worse."

Felicity smiled and leaned against the counter.

"That's true," she said with a small nod, but something in her eyes spoke of loss, and it made Oliver think of his father.

He was about to say something else, maybe even something about his father—which was ridiculous because he didn't even speak about his father's death with Diggle—when the phone rang and Felicity threw him an apologetic smile while she answered it.

"Hello, Starling Plaza, how may I help you?" she said, brightly into the phone, and Oliver was surprised by the twinge of annoyance he felt at whoever was calling for interrupting their conversation.

With a small smile, Oliver whispered a quick, "Happy Hanukkah," to her in parting and made his way to the elevators.

Once he got inside and pressed the button for his floor, he glanced back at the reception desk and noticed Felicity was still looking at him. Staring at him, might be the better description. She blinked a few times, just watching him, and then a surprised smile pulled at her lips. Something warm lit in Oliver's chest at that smile.

Their gaze held until the elevator doors slid closed and he saw her jump slightly, turning back to her phone call with a hurried, "I'm sorry, sir. What did you say?"

If the weird twinge inside his chest eased a little at that, he wasn't going to think too much about it.

•••

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

The look on her face—eyes wide and blinking, lips turning up in delighted surprise that he'd remembered she was Jewish—it haunted him all day long and he wasn't sure why.

Felicity was cute, he'd noticed it as soon as she'd come whipping into the hotel like a whirlwind, all blonde hair and blue eyes. But she wasn't his usual type. Tall, leggy brunettes were more Oliver's speed, but there was just something about her.

Something that had him walking into the lobby that evening with a plan to causally ask her to dinner. Or coffee. Or anywhere, he wasn't being picky.

He spotted her at the reception desk right away. She was doing something at the computer and talking to a co-worker.

"Felicity, hey," he said, stopping in front of her.

Felicity glanced up, eyes widening when she saw it was him. "How did you know my name?" she asked.

"Name tag," he said with a smile, pointing at the gold clip on her chest.

Felicity glanced down, and then back up, shaking her head with a grin. "Right, yeah. Sorry, what can I do for you, Mr. Dearden?"

"It's Oliver," he said. "Queen, actually."

Finally, recognition passed through Felicity's eyes at the name. But she didn't become flirty the way Gina had that morning, instead she drew back a little. Cautiousness in her expression.

"And how may I help you, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver deflated a little at the flatness of her tone, but kept to his plan, anyway.

"I know I said I didn't need one of those brochures," he said, a sheepish smile on his face, "but I was wondering if you could give me a recommendation for dinner?"

Felicity's shoulders relaxed a little and she finally smiled back at him. "I suppose I should suggest the hotel's room service," she said, "but... Do you like burgers?"

Oliver grinned. "I do like burgers, yes."

"Have you tried Big Belly Burger?" Felicity asked and Oliver shook his head. "There's one just a few blocks down on Raymond and 10th. Get the Big Belly Buster, you will not be disappointed." She cocked her head to the side, slightly, as if she were thinking about something. "In fact, that's what I should pick up for dinner when I get off work. My mom's never had it, either."

"Do you get off soon?" he asked, trying to sound casual. His plan was already falling into place and he barely had to do anything. "I could wait if you wanted to head over together."

That's where the plan crashed and burned, unfortunately for Oliver.

Felicity didn't smile and tell him, "Sure, I'd love too," the way he'd hoped while he'd been thinking about asking her to dinner all day long.

No, instead, she straightened her spine, her usually warm blue eyes narrowing terrifyingly.

"Do you know how many times a day I get hit on, Oliver?" She practically hissed his name and Oliver felt his heart stop. "Do you know how many times a guest has asked me out to dinner? Or up for room service? Or slid a spare room key across the counter to me with a wink? Like it's a gift and I should be grateful? Well, here's a newsflash. I don't sleep with guests of the hotel, no matter how handsome they are or how rich they turn out to be."

Her blue eyes shone with a fierceness that Oliver could only admire, despite being turned down so harshly.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a step back from the counter and hoping she could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I misread the situation. I thought... I don't know, I liked talking to you and thought maybe we could walk over to the restaurant if you wanted. Which you clearly don't so... I'm sorry."

Oliver tried to walk away without looking like a kicked puppy. He had some dignity left, dammit. But it was hard when he could hear Felicity and her coworker whispering behind him. When he made it to the doors and finally looked outside, he realized he wasn't going to catch any breaks today.

It was raining. Hard. And there wasn't a single cab outside the hotel waiting to help him flee his embarrassment. How the hell could he have misread the situation so badly? She'd only smiled at him, that didn't mean anything. She was polite and in customer service, of course she'd smiled at him.

He felt like an ass.

"It's really raining, huh?" a voice asked from beside him, and he looked away from the deluge outside to see Felicity standing beside him, watching the downpour herself. "Want me to call a cab for you?"

Oliver closed his eyes for a moment before giving her a tight smile. "I would appreciate that, thank you."

"I already did," she smiled back at him with a wink. And, God, was it adorable. Then, glancing down at her hands which were wringing each other, she took a deep breath. "So, Oliver Queen, huh?"

"Yup," he sighed.

"Why'd you check in under Dearden? If you don't mind me asking," she added quickly, looking embarrassed.

"It's just easier to not be Oliver Queen, sometimes," he told her, honestly. "Especially, in Starling."

Something like sympathy passed through Felicity's eyes, before she glanced away. "I'm sorry," she said, finally. "About... that back there. I thought you were... you, know."

She gestured back towards the front desk and Oliver shook his head.

"No," he argued, vehemently. "No, that was my fault." He could feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "I thought that... we had a moment, earlier. It's entirely my mistake."

"No, no it..." Felicity closed her eyes a moment. "It was definitely a moment. Before." She glance up at him, blue eyes drawing his gaze like a tractor beam. "How did you know that, by the way? That I was Jewish?"

Oliver was suddenly fighting a war inside of himself, a war raging between embarrassment and hope. "You mentioned it this morning. About your mother being in town for Hanukkah," he explained, hoping she didn't think he was a total creep for remembering random details about a conversation he'd overheard.

"You remembered that?" she asked, and the soft tone of her voice had hope surging in his chest.

Oliver shrugged nonchalantly. Or, at least, he hoped it was nonchalantly.

Felicity bit her lip and glanced back at the young man behind the counter, the one she'd been whispering with before she came over here. He was tall and skinny, a wave of brown hair on his head. He shot Felicity a quick thumbs up, before he realized Oliver was looking at him as well, then he looked away, cheeks noticeably red, even from this distance.

"I get off in about fifteen minutes," Felicity began, causing Oliver's heart to skip a beat. "If you wanted to wait... I do have to pick up dinner for me and my mom, so..."

"Yes!" Oliver agreed, probably a little too eagerly, but he hardly cared. She'd agreed to get dinner with him. Even if they weren't technically having dinner together, it was still a huge step up from her complete rejection a few minutes ago.

•••

The cab showed up right before Felicity's shift ended.

Within five minutes she and Oliver were giving their individual orders to the kids behind the Big Belly Burger counter.

"So, do you work the same schedule tomorrow?" he asked, once they'd given their orders and were waiting for their meals. "You know," he smiled, "in case I need another recommendation for dinner?"

"Tomorrow's Monday," she said. "I actually only work at the hotel on weekends. During the week I'm an intern at Queen Consolidated." Felicity's eyes slid shut and she sighed. "Which I probably should've mentioned before we got dinner."

She worked for QC? That knowledge had a grin spreading across Oliver's face.

"Technically, we got dinner together, but the fact that we're going to eat separately makes a huge difference," Oliver said. "And I don't work for QC, yet. I'm still finishing up my last year of college, so I don't think there would be any problem if we wanted to eat dinner together next time."

"I'll keep that in mind," Felicity said with laugh.

"So, you work for Queen Consolidated, huh?" Oliver asked, curiously. "It's a pretty small world."

"Not really," Felicity said. "QC's a great company and I managed to snag a year long internship in the I.T. Department after college. I'm hoping it will turn into a job offer. It's a paid internship, but I still have to work part time at the hotel if I'd like to be able to afford my apartment AND food."

Oliver laughed, reveling in the lighthearted feeling he seemed to have around Felicity. He hadn't felt that type of relaxed contentment since his father died, maybe even before that.

The kid behind the counter called Felicity's order, than Oliver's, and the two of them stepped up to claim their respective meals.

"I was thinking about heading over to the office tomorrow to take a tour of the company. I haven't been there in years. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully, as they walked back out to the cab.

Felicity asked the driver to take them back to the hotel, then turned to Oliver with a smile. "Maybe. If your tour includes the I.T. Department then the chances are high."

"I'll make sure it does," he grinned, then dipped his head, a wave of uncharacteristic shyness coming over him. "And, if you're up for it, maybe we could get a coffee or something?"

"Yes," she said quickly. Her eyes were twinkling even in the dim lighting of the cab. "I love coffee, coffee is..." She shook her head gently as if to stop her ramble before it started. "Yes. I would like that."

"Good."

They made it back the hotel minutes later. Oliver paid the driver as Felicity fidgeted with her Big Belly bag behind him.

"I could have paid, you know," she said, once they walked into the lobby. "But I'll let it slide as long as I get to buy coffee tomorrow."

"Deal," Oliver agreed happily. He noticed eyes on him and turned to see the woman from this morning, Gina, staring daggers at the two of them from behind the front desk.

"Uh oh," Felicity murmured, having spotted Gina, as well. "She's gonna pissed. Not that she's ever not pissed about something, but..." Felicity shrugged, then smiled up at Oliver. "I should get home, before my Big Belly Busters get cold."

"Goodnight, Felicity," he smiled. "Have a good time with your mom."

Felicity's eyes shone, her smile lighting up her whole face. "Goodnight, Oliver. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that she turned away, heading through a door labeled employees only, that Oliver figured led to the employee parking garage.

He watched her until she disappeared, then, ignoring the stares of the hotel employees behind the counter, he made his way towards the elevators. A skip in his step and a smile on his face, a happy buzz burning through his veins at the thought of seeing Felicity again.

For the first time in a long time, Oliver felt totally at home in Starling City and he was excited for the day to come.

Chapter Text

"Oliver!"

Felicity's voice rang out through the house as soon as she heard Oliver walk through the front door.

She saw him visibly flinch at her sharp tone, one that she usually reserved for the kids when they were doing something she'd asked them not to. But the kids weren't here now, they were staying with their grandmother tonight while Oliver and Felicity were supposed to be celebrating their anniversary.

"Happy anniversary, Felicity," Oliver said, walking over to where she stood in their living room. He pulled a bouquet of colorful flowers from behind his back, leaning in to kiss her, and completely ignoring the look Felicity knew was on her face right now.

"Is it?" Felicity asked after he pecked her on the lips.

Oliver finally acknowledged her annoyance, his brow crinkling. "Is it a happy anniversary?" he asked, clearly confused by her behavior.

They'd been fine this morning. They'd woken up early and had quiet anniversary sex before the kids had to get up for school. They'd made plans to have more anniversary sex when they got home from work that night.

Felicity had come home early. Two of her afternoon meetings cancelled in a stroke of luck, and she'd thought she'd come home and get nostalgic. She was going through old pictures when she stumbled on their wedding album. She had digital copies of all of their wedding photos, so she didn't normally bother pulling out the physical album, but it was their sixth anniversary. Felicity thought maybe they could look at it together tonight, a little romantic reminiscing before dinner sounded fun.

But then she'd seen the date on the album cover.

"Did you know we got married on the seventh and not the sixth?" Felicity asked. She couldn't help the accusing tone in her voice, and she didn't feel bad about it once she saw Oliver's mouth open, just slightly, before closing again, his expression closing off in the way it did when he was trying to hide something from her.

"Of course, you knew!" she cut in before he could say anything. "You remember everything. And you just let me think it was the sixth all this time! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Felicity wasn't sure why she was so mad about this. Clearly it was a mistake. But Oliver knew. He knew she'd forgotten one of the most important dates in their lives and he didn't tell her.

Oliver raised a hand to the nape of his neck, scratching lightly at the hairs there. "Well, we had to celebrate the day before our first anniversary because you were going on that business trip to Gotham, remember?"

Felicity thought back. Yeah, she'd needed to be in Gotham to talk about a joint project with Wayne Industries, and she remembered being bummed that they couldn't reschedule the meeting because Bruce Wayne would be out of town for the next six months. But Oliver had more than made up for missing their very first anniversary, the day before her trip and the day she got back from it.

Felicity wanted to blush just remembering the things they'd done when she'd gotten back from Gotham.

"But how would I possibly mix up the dates after that?" she asked, shaking off the delicious memories and getting back on topic.

Oliver shrugged. "I don't know. And I didn't have the heart to correct you, I guess."

"Oliver..."

"You surprised me with dinner, remember?" he explained, cutting off her protest. "I came home and you'd made dinner and a chocolate cheesecake for desert." He smiled at the memory. "You told me you'd been taking classes for two months just to make the night special and I... I don't know, you must have gotten the date mixed up because of the year before, but you looked so happy and pleased with yourself. I couldn't tell you it wasn't our anniversary yet."

Felicity sat down on the couch, shocked. She remembered how proud she was of that dinner. It was the first real meal she'd ever cooked, and she had spent months and a lot of money on a personal chef to teach her. She was so excited when he'd walked through the door of their loft and his face lit up on seeing dinner waiting and all of the candles flickering in the dim apartment.

He'd kissed her and asked her what this was all about and she'd said, "Because it's our anniversary and you do this for me all the time. I wanted you to know what it was like."

And he hadn't told her she was wrong. That it wasn't their anniversary, not yet. He'd just smiled lovingly and leaned in to kiss her again and again. She'd been too hyped up for him to try her cooking that she didn't let it go farther, but the kissing was good. God, the kissing was always good.

"Oh," Felicity said, heart melting a little at the thought that Oliver had let her have that moment simply because she'd been so happy trying to make him happy.

"I'm sorry, Felicity," he said, sitting down beside her. "I should have said something, but... And then the next year you made reservations for the day before and it kind of spiraled away from me." He shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Felicity let her hand rest on top of his on his lap. She smiled and leaned in, pressing her forehead to his.

"I love you," she said, simply.

Oliver huffed a small laugh, his breath warm against her face. "I love you, too. I didn't think the day mattered as much as the celebration itself."

Felicity nodded, pulling back a little to look at him. "God," Felicity muttered, tears prickling in her eyes. "You are such a sap, sometimes."

Oliver reached up to cup her cheek, looking at her in a way that hadn't changed in the six years they'd been married. He'd been looking at her like that for so long, she forgot sometimes that they hadn't always been together. That there had been a time when it looked like they'd never be together. The thought of not being with Oliver, of what could have been, caused a tear to cascade down her cheek, which he immediately wiped away.

"I'm not mad at you," she explained. "I guess I was mad at myself for forgetting. Because... because it's important. It's the day we got married! And I forgot!"

"Hey," he whispered, "I love you. And there isn't a single day I don't want to celebrate our marriage. I don't care what day we got married, just that we did. That we chose each other." And then, as if he read her mind, he said, "Felicity, I don't even want to think about what my life would have been like if you hadn't chosen me. l don't..."

Felicity cut him off, grabbing his face in her hands and dragging his mouth to hers. She didn't want to think about life without him either, because they had chosen each other. They'd wanted to be together and they'd fought for it, through all of the tough times, and they continued to fight for it every day.

Oliver was right, Felicity thought. The day didn't matter, all that mattered was that, after all this time, they still wanted to celebrate that choice they'd made, to be together, no matter what.

So they celebrated their anniversary that night, and the next, and the next...

Chapter Text

One year and two months ago Felicity never would have expected to be where she is now.

Not in her career—current VP of Palmer Technologies—or in her life—paralyzed from the waist down after her car slipped on a patch of ice and slammed into a guardrail.

She certainly never expected to be sharing an apartment with notorious playboy Oliver Queen, but that's where she found herself.

Looking into her bathroom mirror, her view obstructed by the multiple pink post it notes stuck to it, she reflected back on how she'd gotten there.

A little over a year ago, when her car ran off the road and she'd woken up, confused and alone, in the hospital, Felicity had been devastated. She'd just been promoted to head of Applied Sciences, she'd been flirting a little with Ray Palmer, maybe heading for something more in their relationship, but then she'd lost it all.

At least, it had felt that way to Felicity.

She couldn't walk, she was out of work for two months, Ray pulled back on the romantic front—wanting to give her space, he'd explained. Her life had just been coming together and then it was taken away with the jerk of a steering wheel.

Her mother told her she was quitting her job in Vegas and moving to Starling to help Felicity get used to her "new normal," as the doctors referred to her life now. But Felicity didn't want her mother moving in with her, she didn't want to have to readjust to living her life. She didn't want Ray "giving her space" while hovering around her hospital room and calling to make sure she was okay. She just wanted it to be the way it was before!

She knew she was depressed. She was a genius, she didn't need a trauma counselor to tell her that, although they did, repeatedly, during her hospital stay.

She was just so done. So done with the poking and the prodding. With her mother making decisions without consulting her, with Ray deciding what was best. She was an intelligent, independent woman, goddamnit, and she didn't want to be told she couldn't, or she wouldn't or she shouldn't.

Felicity, and Felicity alone, was the only one who got to decide those things!

So, when, not even six hours after being released from the hospital, a man knocked on her door, she did something reckless. Something she never would have done if she had been her old self. The one that wasn't a broken, miserable mess fighting to take back the control that had been ripped from her.

She never could have imagined how that one stupid, reckless decision would change her life, and she didn't care at the time. All she knew was it was a decision she was making on her own. The first she'd made since her accident. And, if it pissed off her mother and Ray, all the better.

Oliver Queen, former billionaire playboy and current hungover mess, knocked on her door, crumpled newspaper in his hand. He leaned against her doorframe looking down at her in her chair and smiled.

"You still need a roommate?" he'd asked, holding out the newspaper to her.

Confusion wrinkled her brow, as she took it, slowly uncrumpling and reading the ad. It wasn't for her apartment—she'd never taken out an ad looking for a roommate—it was for her upstairs neighbor, but Felicity didn't tell him that.

"Yes," she'd said, ignoring the protests of her mother and Ray, who had brought her home from the hospital and then stayed. Like she didn't just want to be left alone. She glanced back up at Oliver, a charming, if melancholic, smile on his face.

"Great," he said, walking past her into the living room, and that was it.

She'd kicked her mother and Ray out, saying that she was fine and had a roommate to keep her company now. Despite their worried protests, they'd relented. Ray left with a promise that, if she called him, he'd be there in ten minutes to help her get rid of her new "roommate". Her mother still looked worried, but after Oliver had introduced himself as Oliver Queen, her protests grew unsurprisingly silent.

And then it had been just them and, somehow, it worked.

They'd had rough patches, of course.

Oliver didn't have any money since his mother froze his trust fund and kicked him out of his family home. And, despite talking about getting a job, he came home day after day, drunk and complaining about how every job he interviewed for just, "wasn't going to work for him."

He wasn't the only one with issues, though.

Felicity, who'd still been dealing with pain and depression from the accident, had taken too many painkillers one night, two months into their new living arrangement. Oliver had come home from... wherever he went, and found her having an argument with a hallucination in the living room. He'd called her doctor—to this day Felicity could remember the frantic sound of his voice asking if he needed to take her to the hospital. When the doctor said to keep an eye on her, Oliver had sat beside her in her bed all night, not dozing off even once until the meds left her system.

After that, Oliver didn't come home drunk anymore. And he didn't stay out as much either. And sometimes, if she was lucky, he'd even cook her dinner. Playboy Oliver Queen making her chicken cordon bleu for dinner was another one of those things she'd never expected, but it was a nice surprise.

Slowly, very slowly, their relationship began to change. They went from being reluctant roommates to... friends. Felicity eventually began to pull herself out of her depression, to which she credited Oliver's quiet support. In turn she helped him battle his insecurities, as well.

They were a good team. From day one he'd treated her like the old Felicity, the genius who could do anything she set her mind to. He didn't hover or baby her. He knew she was strong enough to handle things, but let her know, in no uncertain terms, that he'd be there if she needed him.

That was around the time she discovered she'd been developing a massive crush on Oliver Queen, but there was nothing to be done about it. Sure, he was nice to her, he cared for her. They were friends, best friends even. But she was also in a wheelchair and, while Oliver never seemed to let that color his opinion of her, Felicity knew it might be too much to hope he'd see her as more. As someone he could be with.

Hell, Oliver wasn't a relationship kind of guy to begin with. Just the thought of him settling down with anyone was almost too much to fathom. But with her... it was unthinkable.

No matter how much Felicity fantasized about it, she never dare let herself actually hope for it.

So, when Felicity woke up Valentine's Day morning, and wheeled herself into the bathroom, she was stunned to find dozens and dozens of pink post its stuck to her mirror in the shape of a heart, tiny handwritten notes on each of them.

She read them all, starting with the one in the very middle that had "Say yes. Here's why..." scrawled across it in Oliver's clunky handwriting.

The outer edges of the heart started out benign.

"Because I know my Chicken Marsala is your favorite meal."

"Because I know that you secretly liked Jar Jar Binks in the prequels and I don't judge."

"Because I'm willing to give you the last scoop of chocolate chip mint."

The notes got more serious as she got down towards the bottom. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she read them.

"Because I love that you're always the smartest person in the room."

"Because when you smile I feel like all the bad things don't matter quite as much."

"Because somehow you've become the best part of me."

The last note, the one on the very end of the tapered point at the bottom, was simple. There were only four words written across it, but they made Felicity's heart constrict painfully in her chest as she read them.

"Because I love you."

She sat in her bathroom, trying to process what it all meant. She had an idea, of course, but her insecurities kept bubbling up, telling her she had to be mistaken somehow. That this wasn't for her, or it wasn't from Oliver, even though he was the only one it could be from.

Then she spotted the lone post it in the corner of the mirror. Stuck up near the lights at the top. It said, "Don't worry, I'll take these down. - O."

For some reason, THAT is when she started crying. All of the other notes, all of the confessions, and his stupid thoughtful promise to take down the post its was what broke her.

Felicity wiped her eyes, then wheeled herself out into the living room. As she expected, Oliver was there waiting. She hadn't, however, expected the dozen roses he held in his hand, or the nervous glint in his eye as he watched her enter the room.

The idiot was standing there in his pajama pants, and just his pajama pants, waiting for her. A shirtless Oliver carrying roses? That should be considered cheating.

"Hey." His lips turned up into an anxious smile as she rolled to a stop before him.

"Someone was busy with a project this morning," she teased, fighting the urge to fidget nervously with her chair.

Oliver huffed a laugh and handed her the roses. She teared up again as she held them close to her nose and breathed in their scent.

"Felicity..." he whispered, crouching in front of her chair. His hands were on her knees, and even though she couldn't feel him, she was aware of his touch. Because somehow her body would always know when he was near. It was instinctual. "Will you be my valentine?"

Sucking in a shaky breath, Felicity carefully reached over, placing the roses on the dining table, then covered his hand on her knee. She watched their hands as she tangled her fingers with his.

"I don't know," she said, finally meeting his eye and seeing the uncertainty blossom at her words. "Can you give me any reasons I should?"

A relived laugh escaped Oliver at her joke, and she saw the tension leave his shoulders. "The eighty reasons I left on your mirror weren't enough?"

"They were a good start," she smiled. "But I've always felt actions speak louder than words."

Oliver grinned and it was still as utterly charming as when he'd showed up on her doorstep a year ago, but now it was happiness, instead of sadness, shining in his eyes.

"You're looking for some action, huh?" he laughed, leaning in close. His eyes darted down to her lips and Felicity couldn't help the way her tongue snuck out to wet them.

She leaned in, too, closing the distance until her lips brushed his. "Only if it's with you."

Then he was kissing her and it was like her whole body lit on fire. Every brush of his lips, every panted breath against her mouth, was so intense Felicity couldn't breathe when he finally pulled back.

Oliver rested his forehead against hers. "For tonight," he began breathlessly, "do you want me to make reservations or do you want to stay in and I'll cook?"

"In," Felicity blurted, tilting her head so their lips were touching again. "Let's stay in, in is good."

She could feel his lips spread into a wide smile against her's as she let herself get lost in this moment she'd thought she'd never get.

She'd been so worried, that Oliver wouldn't want her, that he couldn't love someone like her. But, with his warmth and happiness radiating through her, it all felt a little bit inevitable. And maybe it was. Maybe fate had sent him to her door that day so long ago, or maybe it was just a happy accident. Felicity didn't care. All she cared about was that the man she'd fallen in love with loved her back, and, no matter what happened, she'd remember this Valentine's Day for the rest of her life.