Felicity was never a big celebrator of New Year's Eve. She liked to stay in with a bottle of wine all to herself and Anderson Cooper gracing her television. She isn't against having other people join her but her friends usually want to go out and have fun. Ringing in the new year with a bang and all that.

Felicity likes to ring it in with more of a dinging.

Her mother used to tease her for being boring, her father would joke that she's a lightweight. They liked to host parties with shots and finger foods and champagne spraying. Eighteen years of that could really put a damper on your mood to party.

So, when she's halfway through a bottle of wine and someone knocks on her door an hour and a half before the it's officially a whole new year, she considers ignoring it. The last thing she expects to find on the other side is a completely sober, sheepish looking Oliver Queen. Her eyebrows furrow as she wraps her cardigan tighter around her and leans against the door frame.

"Mr. Queen," she greets and can't help but smile when he chuckles in response.

"I wasn't even sure you'd be home. It was so quiet." She gives him a shrug and straightens, waving him into her apartment.

"I don't really like partying on New Year's Eve," she explains as he steps over the threshold into her living room. Her apartment has never really seemed very small for one person, but Oliver's large frame seems to make the space shrink. His eyes scan the parts of it he can see, no doubt memorizing all the exits, and she waits until they've come back to her before asking the question of the hour.

"What are you doing here?" She asks tilting her head to the side. He gives her a stupid smirk she can see right through.

"Can't I visit a friend on a holiday?" She shakes her head.

"Of course you can," she chuckles, stepping around him to grab her glass of wine, "but you have plenty of people to spend the night with, a whole club full of sweaty, wasted people, actually." She smirks at him and drinks from her wineglass.

"Aren't you going to offer?" He asks, sidestepping the question.

"That depends, are you going to stay?"

"If I stay, can I have some wine?" She grins at him and leads him towards her kitchen to pour him a glass of wine. He teases her for buying the 'cheap shit'. She reminds him that most times 'cheap' to Oliver Queen doesn't mean the same thing to normal people. He gets a distant look for a moment before asking if he ever got her a present during Hanukkah. She knows he didn't but she just shrugs and heads back to the living area.

"What is this?" He asks, following her and realizing what's on television. "Where's Dick Clark?" She shakes her head at him.

"First of all, Dick Clark doesn't host it anymore, Ryan Seacrest does."

"The American Idol guy with the hair?" She laughs and nods before explaining that she likes Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin's countdown better. He tries to fight her on it, falling onto the couch next to her like it's normal, before Kathy cracks some joke and he seems placated.

The night continues on like that. Oliver tells her how he and Tommy spent last New Year's Eve, how Thea and Roy are taking care of the club this year. Felicity explains her parent's love of the holiday. It doesn't strike Felicity how unnatural it should but doesn't feel until the ball starts to drop. The television begins counting down from thirty and she's suddenly reminded of the question he never answered.

"Oliver," she begins quietly and he hums in response, his eyes not leaving the screen, "why are you here?" His eyes meet hers and he's quiet for a few seconds, the noise from the TV seems distant.

"I wanted to start the new year off as Oliver. Not Oliver Queen." It shouldn't make sense but she understands. Something in her stirs at the realization that he feels most himself around her. The people on television begin yelling, counting down from ten. She turns suddenly, reminded of where she is and whats happening and mouths along with the numbers. She tries not to think about Oliver's eyes on the side of her face.

At three, she meets his eyes again.

"Happy New Year, Oliver." Two.

"Happy New Year, Felicity." One. The screaming intensifies as Oliver leans forward and meets her lips. It's short, simple, sweet. Easy. He pulls away and she gives him a smile before turning back to the television for the rest of the program.

She can't remember which one of them suggests turning on a movie afterward but she wakes up on the couch, curled against his side. He leaves fifteen minutes after he wakes up and squeezes her hand in his as he does. No one mentions the kiss and Felicity doesn't mind. She measures her relationship with Oliver in baby steps and she doesn't mind when they stumble a little.

She has a feeling they'll get there eventually.