Chapter Text
A pomeranian was licking his face, and Oliver was trying really hard to pretend he was okay with that. It’s not that he actively disliked dogs, it was more that he considered himself neutral on them. On all pets, really. He was Switzerland when it came to animals. As Switzerland, he just preferred to avoid any exchange of bodily fluids.
The yappy little puffball his Chief of Staff had handed him for the photo op clearly did not share his commitment to neutrality.
He’d only been mayor for two months, but he was adept enough at these kinds of appearances to know it would be bad form to ask if he could trade the pomeranian for a less affectionate animal. There were children watching. And reporters. He was just going to have to smile through it. The dog started nipping at his earlobe, which was actually the most action Oliver’d had in quite a while, and some of the reporters took the opportunity to ask a few questions in between photos. It was fine until he saw Susan Williams push to the front of the crowd.
“Mayor Queen, with Star City barely avoiding--for, what, the 4th time--complete annihilation only mere months ago and with worrying damage done to infrastructure and public morale, is this kind of event really the best use of your time?”
“Susan,” he sighed, “I guess there’s still nothing newsworthy happening in Coast City.”
“Not comparatively, no. There isn’t.”
She was a pain in his ass. Not that she didn’t have a point, although it wasn’t exactly the one she was making. He was working day and night rebuilding infrastructure. It was his work as the Green Arrow that was paying the price--he hadn’t suited up since being sworn in. As for public morale, well, that was exactly what events like this were designed to boost. So, he went into his spiel about how The Dog Spot was Star City’s only locally owned pet supply store and how their partnership with the Humane Society to host weekly adoption days was important for promoting local business and ending the city’s homeless dog problem.
He glossed over the fact that city’s homeless dog problem was a result of alarming numbers of citizens fleeing en masse and leaving their animals behind. Stay positive--that was rule number one of being mayor.
Susan was raising her hand again, so Oliver looked around to see if someone, anyone, else had a question he could answer instead, but he’d lost the other reporters to the puppies. Susan smiled at him patiently.
“Yes, Ms. WIlliams?”
“So, as Mayor, will you be setting an example by taking home a stray or two today?”
As if on cue, Oliver felt a warm liquid spread down the front of his starched white shirt. The puffball had peed on him. Susan Williams didn’t even try to hide her laughter, and neither did the dozens of children who were watching the whole thing unfold.
No one respected Switzerland.
oOo
The Dog Spot was kind enough to offer him a t-shirt to change into. It was bright green and sported the store’s poodle logo which didn’t exactly compliment his perfectly tailored gray slacks, but it also didn’t smell like pomeranian piss, so Oliver accepted it gratefully. When he emerged from the backroom he’d changed in, Susan was holding the dog that had just used him as a personal fire hydrant and was filling out some paperwork. He tried to sneak by her unnoticed, but today was really not his day. She handed her clipboard back to the man behind the table and came to stand beside Oliver.
“I’m adopting this one. I like her spirit.” She looked Oliver up and down. “Nice shirt.”
“Thanks. And I think you and that dog are a really good fit for each other. Congratulations.”
She smirked and said, “You really should get one, you know. Dogs are chick magnets, and I hear that’s an area you’ve had far less success in than the Oliver Queen of yore.”
He sighed. “You know, this might be easier if you just came right out and told me exactly what it is you have against me.”
“So anyone asking challenging questions must have some sort of personal vendetta? That’s some pretty thin skin you’ve got there, Mr. Mayor.”
It occurred to Oliver that he didn’t actually owe this woman another second and that he’d more than fulfilled his obligation to this community event. It was time to go back to work. He began to walk away, so he barely heard her next statement over the din of barking dogs and playing children.
“I don’t have anything against you, but I am very curious about how a man who flunked out of four colleges without managing to obtain a degree, disappeared under mysterious circumstances, is the son of the woman who nearly destroyed this city, and who ran and lost two businesses and hasn’t held a job to speak of since could possibly be made mayor. I know it’s slim pickings for Star City, but wow.”
Oliver pursed his lips and clenched his fists before forcing himself to smile and face her. “Maybe it’s because I know a thing or two about redemption--something Star City needs right now.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged, her expression cold. “Or maybe there’s something more sinister there. You certainly wouldn’t be the first mayor here with a hidden agenda. And even if there isn’t, let’s be honest. With a track record like yours, failure is a near certainty. As much as the public loves redemption stories, they also love it when beautiful people fail. Either way, it’s a good story. And that, Mayor Queen, is really all I’m after.”
Before he could formulate a response, she was leaving the shop, taking her hideous, yapping puffball dog with her. Oliver hoped the thing peed all over her sheets. He looked around to try to gage whether anyone overheard their exchange, and the knot in his chest loosened a little when he realized no one had.
A little, but not completely. Susan was...not a nice person, and she definitely knew how to hit where it hurts. All Oliver wanted--all he’d wanted for the past four years--was to save his city. He’d been doing that as the Green Arrow, and when he was appointed mayor, he’d thought he was just taking on an additional way of helping. But Susan wasn’t lying about his track record and with him having to put vigilante-ing on hiatus it was all starting to feel like a bigger risk than he’d intended to take. Afterall, when he’d originally decided to run for mayor, he’d had his team.
Now he was alone.
Not alone-alone, obviously he had a very competent staff. But none of them were Dig or Thea or Laurel. None of them were Felicity.
And there was that knot in his chest again. Because Felicity was still here, was still Team Arrow. But she wasn’t his. He was having to face the probability that she never would be again.
Javier. That was his name, but Felicity called him Javi. Javi. Oliver hated that name. Oliver hated Javier. An admirable feat when you considered how effing nice Javier was. And not in that over-the-top Ray Palmer way that just begged for mockery, but in a genuine, funny, we should have a beer and watch baseball some time way.
Javier was a photographer who came to Star City on temporary assignment to document “an American city on the rise.” He was also a friend from Felicity’s old neighborhood in Vegas, which Oliver knew absolutely nothing about because he’d never thought to ask. Oliver had been there when Felicity had reunited with her old friend. It had been at Star City Bay--another attempt at revitalization that left Oliver with deja vu. Felicity had been there with Curtis, and Oliver remembered how her jaw had dropped in surprised delight when she saw Javier and his camera. How she’d come running and how, for a split second, Oliver had thought she was running to him. How she’d practically tackled the other man with her hug.
He’d slept-walked through his speech that day and through the subsequent meet-and-greets. He’d kept one eye on Felicity and Javier. They were joking constantly, so relaxed, so genuinely happy to be with one another.
Oliver hadn’t been surprised to run into them together at the next couple of community service events. He’d expected it when Felicity had asked him to lunch the following week to awkwardly tell him that she and “Javi” were “sort of kind of seeing each other.”
In case anyone was wondering, expecting something does not stop it from completely gutting you.
“Here. Give this one a squeeze. Guaranteed to cure what ails you.”
Oliver startled from his thoughts to find Mr. Garrison, the elderly owner of The Dog Spot, holding out a little wheat-colored puppy that reminded Oliver of a muppet.
“Actually,” Oliver said, “I think you might have someone else interested in that little guy.” He pointed to a little girl, ponytail click-clacking with beads, biting her lip and looking hopefully at the muppet puppy.
“You might be right,” Mr. Garrison said. “Well, there are plenty of others here to choose from.”
“I’m not really a dog person.” Oliver was done with Switzerland.
“Nonsense. We’re all dog people. You’ll never find a more loyal companion.” Mr Garrison clapped him on the back before taking the muppet over to the little girl. Oliver watched her eyes light up (like Felicity’s when she saw Javier, he might have thought sourly) as she hugged the puppy close to her chest.
It was pretty sweet, Oliver had to concede. But he really did need to get back to the office. He looked around trying to spot his Chief of Staff, who had disappeared into the crowd. Instead he spotted another dog, not a puppy and definitely not any recognizable breed with his hair all shaggy and a mishmash of mottled colors, crated behind the table where the Humane Society volunteer was stationed.
“Is that your dog?” Oliver asked.
“Dobby? No, he’s not anyone’s dog.”
“Dobby? Like from Harry Potter, right?” The volunteer nodded. “So, why is he not out greeting the people with all the other dogs?”
“Oh, well, he’s not really adoptable. I mean, technically he is, but…. Dobby was feral for a really long time. He’s not really an ideal pet.”
“So what does that mean?”
“Oh, you know, we’ll just take him back to the shelter.”
“Oh. So, he can just live there indefinitely?”
“Ummmm,” the volunteer grimaced. “Not exactly. We’ll keep him for as long as we can, of course, but there are space issues to consider, and well, you know….”
Oliver didn’t know. But he could guess, and suddenly there was nothing more abhorrent to him than the idea of this dog not finding a home. It wasn’t Dobby’s fault he was feral. Dobby hadn’t asked to go through what he’d had to go through. Sure, maybe that made him a little harder to love. Maybe it meant he made a mess of things more than other dogs did, but did that mean that everyone was just going to give up on Dobby? That he was doomed to be alone until he met an early death?
“I’ll take him,” Oliver said.
Maybe he could become a dog person.
oOo
So...Oliver was willing to concede that his decision to adopt Dobby might have been made in haste. Dobby, as it turned out, wasn’t really a people dog. And Oliver really had needed to go back to the office. He probably could’ve stopped back by the loft (which Felicity had returned to him once she’d found a new place to live, which was weird and wrong and a million other unpleasant things that Oliver tried not to think about), but it seemed like dropping off a dog at your empty apartment for god-knew-how-long immediately after adopting him was a pretty shitty thing to do. Oliver had loaded Dobby into the backseat of the town car with him, promising the driver he’d pay for detailing. Dobby had backed to the opposite end of the bench seat from Oliver and then proceeded to lowkey snarl at him throughout the entire ride.
And now here they were, both believing a huge mistake had probably been made. Oliver hadn’t thought to buy a leash or, well, anything, from the pet store on his way out, which meant he had to carry Dobby into his office. Dobby, who didn’t really like him. Dobby, who wasn’t a small dog. At all.
Oliver gritted his teeth and smiled at every person who stopped to gape at their mayor, in a bright green t-shirt and dress pants, carrying an obviously pissed off dog through City Hall.
“Good afternoon to you too,” he mumbled. “Nothing to see here.”
Dobby continued to squirm and bark as they made their way to Oliver’s office, but any time another human would get too close, he would cower into Oliver. That was a sign of attachment, right? It was kind of pitiful and definitely meant that Dobby wasn’t going to be some sort of badass sidekick, but...at least he showed some sort of preference for his new owner?
As soon as they’d reached his office and Oliver was able to secure the door, he let Dobby down. The dog immediately made his way to the farthest corner of the room, and Oliver sat at his desk...then realized he was covered in clumps of hair. He added “he sheds” to the list of things he knew about his pet.
A pet. What the hell had he been thinking?
Dobby caught Oliver looking at him and began barking. The only thing Oliver could do to make him stop was to move out of his line of sight, which wasn’t really going to be able to happen, considering this was Oliver’s office. His office, in which he needed to actually do a lot of work.
And the dog was probably going to want to eat, right? Could he just, like, order him a sandwich or something when he sent for his own dinner? And what about taking him to the bathroom, that was probably going to have to happen, but how was Oliver supposed to do that without a leash? Dobby would just run away. Maybe that was for the best. Maybe the volunteer was right, and he was just too far gone to be with people.
No. No, Oliver didn’t accept that. “I’m not giving up on you. You’re stuck with me now.” Dobby just howled and backed away when Oliver tried to pet him. Not exactly progress, but at least Dobby didn’t seem to be a biter.
“Umm, Mayor Queen,” his secretary paged him.
“Yes, Andre, what can I do for you?”
“It’s just, some people--not me, I’m totally an animal lover--but some others were wondering if, um, the dog in your office would be staying the rest of the evening. And, if so, if there might be a way to get him to stop barking?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mayor Queen. On behalf of those who were asking.”
Oliver rolled his eyes and looked back to Dobby. “You’ve gotta work with me here, man.”
Another howl. Great.
Okay, bring your dog to work day wasn’t a viable option. He could have an intern take Dobby back to the loft, but that just seemed cold. Then another thought occurred to him. It was probably too much to ask, but…. He pulled out his phone.
Oliver, 4:00: How busy are you right now? Would it be terrible of me to ask a huge favor?
Felicity, 4:03: Just finishing up. Which isn’t me saying yes. What’s the favor?
Oliver, 4:03: I got a dog.
Felicity, 4:03: ???????
Oliver, 4:03: He hates me. He’s at work with me now and he won’t stop barking and I have contracts that have to be signed before 6:00, or there are a whole lot of people in this city who won’t be getting paid on time.
Oliver, 4:04: Could you maybe come pick him up and take him back to the loft?
Oliver, 4:04: You still have a key, right?
Felicity, 4:05: I’m on my way.
Oliver, 4:06: Um, could you bring a leash? And maybe stop and buy some dog food?
Felicity, 4:08: I’m having flashback to my days as your assistant. You owe me, Queen.
Oliver, 4:08: I pay in wine.
Felicity, 4:08: Hmph. I never got the last bottle you promised me.
Felicity, 4:09: And who let you get a dog without also getting a leash and food?
Oliver, 4:09: RIGHT?!?!?!?!
oOo
“Oliver?”
He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Felicity entering his office. “I’m back here,” he called.
“Back wh-? Oliver, what are you doing hiding under your desk?”
“I’m not hiding, this is just where I’m working right now.” He waved a stack of signed contracts in her skeptical face. “If he sees me, he barks. I’ve had to put my phone on Do Not Disturb to stop the phone calls from staff begging me to make him stop.”
“So this whole new pet owner thing is going well, huh?”
“It’s not without it’s challenges.” He accepted the hand she’d held out to pull him up and winced when Dobby, true to form, started barking again.
Felicity looked over at the dog and cringed a little before softening. “He’s not so bad. Are you buddy?” Dobby growled at her and she yanked back the hand she’d reached out to pet him.
“Great. You got a demon dog.”
“He’s not a demon dog,” Oliver said defensively. “He just...has issues.”
“Don’t we all. Why did you get a dog when you’re not a dog person?”
Because I was lonely. The answer took Oliver by surprise, and he chose not to speak it outloud. “I never said I wasn’t a dog person. We just weren’t allowed to have pets growing up. Mother was allergic. Or at least she claimed to be.”
Felicity looked skeptical, but didn’t challenge him. “So what’s demon dog’s real name? I’m assuming Beelzebub is too obvious.”
“His name is Dobby.”
Felicity burst into laughter. “Of course it is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just starting to make sense, that’s all. Nice shirt, by the way,” she said, gesturing to his t-shirt. “Okay, Dobby,” she turned to face the barking dog, “let’s get you on this leash. Look, I have a treat. Come get it boy, come on.”
And though he never stopped barking, he did get close enough for Felicity to fasten the leash to his collar. Oliver was impressed.
“That was smart, bringing a treat.”
“Well, I am a genius. I better get this guy home.”
Oliver didn’t want her to leave. “Wait!”
Felicity turned back to him, puzzled.
“I...I meant to ask, how are things going? Has the board made a decision about reinstating you yet?
“I made my final presentation today. It went well. I don’t want to be overly optimistic, but I think my chances are good.”
“That’s great.” Oliver smiled at her, maybe a little bit sadly. “They’d be crazy to let you go again, Felicity. They never should have done it in the first place.”
Felicity ducked her head. “Yeah, well, we’ll see.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Of course.”
She turned to go once again, and once again he found himself wanting to stop her. “Hey, this may be too much to ask, but, um, if you were willing to maybe hang out at the loft until I got back, I could get you that bottle of wine tonight. I’d even take you to the store, let you pick out the one you want.”
Felicity blushed, and Oliver realized his mistake before she spoke.
“Oh...wow, um, yeah that would be nice, but, um, Javi and I-”
“Of course No, I knew it was a longshot. I just thought it might nice for Dobby to have some company-”
“Right, that makes sense-”
“I’m just feeling guilty, I guess, for pretty much screwing up my first day of dog ownership.”
“If it were any other time-”
“No, enjoy your date. Tell Javier I said hello.”
“Sure! Yes. I will do that.”
“Good. Good. Thank you again, Felicity. You’re the best.”
“Happy to help. Anytime.”
They both sort of leaned in for a hug, but then changed their mind. Dobby was pulling on the leash, and Oliver watched as she stumbled out the door after the dog. He waved when she turned to look back at him before getting in the elevator.
“Thanks again,” he whispered.
Because he was lonely, huh? Well now they were both gone and Oliver felt worse than he had when the whole thing had started.
oOo
Oliver worked later than he needed to. Later than he should have. He had planned to stop and get Felicity’s wine and maybe a few more dog supplies before he went home, but everything was closed. He groaned when he thought about the state the loft was going to be in when he got there. Once upon a time, the Lance sisters had a dog. He remembered Laurel being furious when it ate her favorite shoes and her comforter while she was in class. He was probably going to have to find a way to give Dobby back to the shelter, or at least find him a more suitable home. It meant he’d have to break a promise, but it wasn’t fair to Dobby to try to keep him when Oliver was incapable of providing him with the time and attention to he needed. He hadn’t even bought him food at first, for god’s sake.
Besides, Dobby was just a dog, right? What did dogs care about broken promises?
When he got to the loft, everything was quiet, so at least Dobby had probably gone to sleep. Oliver braced himself before turning on the light, dreading what he might find. He was ready for broken glass and shredded furniture. He was not at all prepared for the sight of a blond ponytail popping up from the couch.
“Felicity?”
“Oliver? What time ‘sit?”
“Almost 11. What are you still doing here?”
She stretched and reached for her glasses on the coffee table. “Dobby and I were having fun.” She pointed at a bright pink tennis ball on the floor. “He loves that thing. We played catch for hours. Turns out he’s not actually a demon dog. I think you got a good one, Oliver.”
The swell of pride and happiness brought on by her words, not mention her presence, was damn near ridiculous. “But what about your date?”
Felicity waved it off. “Meh. There’s always tomorrow.”
And there it was, the hope Oliver thought he’d effectively squashed, roaring right back to life. It was about the dog, not you, he reminded himself.
“Come here, I’ll show you what I did.”
He followed Felicity upstairs, careful not to touch her. If he touched her, he’d be a goner.
“Hope you aren’t opposed to sharing your bedroom with Dobby, because I got him all situated up here. I mean, if you’re going to be a dog person, you might as well go all in, right? Well, maybe not all in. There’s no reason to let him sleep in your actual bed. Not that I have any right at all to say who sleeps in your bed or anything, it’s just that Dobby sheds. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. And that would be gross in your bed, which is, again, none of my business-”
“Felicity.”
“Yes?”
“Take a breath.”
She smiled at their old routine and breathed in. “3, 2, 1. What I meant to say was, ta-da!” She gestured to the corner of the room where Dobby was snoring loudly on a big fluffy dog bed.
It was magenta. Such a Felicity color. He grinned.
“I put a couple of your t-shirts in with him so he’ll get used to your smell. Maybe it will help the bonding process or something. And I might’ve gone overboard with the pink. It’s just that the old guy who worked at the store kept trying to make me buy everything in brown, which such a depressing color and Dobby needed something more cheerful than that. I was going to just get yellow or something, but then the owner made this big deal about Dobby being a male dog and how I should buy him masculine accessories, and, I mean, he’s a dog. It’s bad enough that we force these gendered notions of appropriate colors on babies, but now we’re doing it with dogs too? That’s ridiculous.”
“So in protest you bought everything in pink?”
“Exactly.” She smiled up at him carefully. “Too far?”
“It’s perfect. How much do I owe you?”
“You don’t owe me anything.” She sounded a little offended.
“Felicity, you came all the way to city hall to bail me out because I decided to get a dog on a whim. You bought all of his supplies. You missed your date to stay and play with him.”
“It was my pleasure. Just, when you get me that bottle of wine, get ice cream too. And maybe, I don’t know, let me hang out with you guys at the dog park some time.”
“You are welcome with us anytime, Felicity.” He meant it. With all of his heart, he meant it.
For a moment she held his gaze. Just for a moment. Then she motioned for the stairs.
“I should-”
“Yeah, it’s late. I’ll walk you-”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine. Just, text me tomorrow and let me know how Dobby-”
“Of course. And, hey, same with you and the board-’
“Definitely.”
“Okay, Goodnight, Felicity.”
“Night, Oliver.”
From the window, he watched her to her car, then he sank down next to the dog bed and patted the dog gently. He wouldn’t take Dobby back afterall. So he wasn’t a natural dog person? So what? He could learn.
“Played ball for hours, huh? She made you love her, didn’t she? And you were so dead set against humans. Well, don’t take it too hard, boy. She’s just so damn easy to love.”