A/N: So I got a prompt for Oliver/Felicity and wrote a drabble. Then I got another prompt-this one for Bratva Fake!Marriage-and wrote another drabble. And that one EXPLODED. To date, it has received four times as many notes as my most popular AOS drabble, and the note count is still climbing.

I got another Bratva prompt, then another, and another. At this point, I have to accept that this is a series.

Because there are a lot of time jumps involved, each chapter title will indicate how long Oliver and Felicity have been married.

Anyway, title is from "Live a Little" by Florrie. Thanks for reading and please be gentle if you review!

Felicity learns quickly that her new husband, for all of his apparent disinterest in her, is very aware of her movements. She's pretty sure Sara—the bodyguard he assigned her—is reporting everything she does while she does it.

Whatever. Everything Felicity has to hide happens in cyberspace, and Sara's pretty obviously not following her there.

Anyway, the point is, Oliver is super obvious about knowing what she's been up to. The day she goes on a shopping spree (Starling City is a lot colder than Vegas), he asks over dinner whether she found everything she needed, or if she'd like the number for his sister's private designer. The next day, he asks whether she enjoyed her lunch with Thea, and the day after that, he recommends a better bookstore than the one she visited that morning.

He's already made it perfectly clear that he doesn't actually care what she does, so she's pretty sure he's trying to provoke her. She doesn't care about being followed and spied on—even aside from the fact that she knows no one he has is good enough to track her hacking, she's used to it; her father's people have been basically stalking her since she could walk—but she does care that he's trying to play some kind of mind game with her.

She thinks he might have the wrong idea about her; just because she agreed to marry him on her father's say-so doesn't mean she's a push-over. She might not have his resources and manpower (although technically she is entitled to half of them, what with them being married and all), but she's got power of her own.

The sooner he learns that, the better.

So she smiles and thanks him sweetly for the recommendation, and the next day—while Sara is busy glaring away a man who wandered too close—she hacks his phone's GPS from her tablet and makes careful note of his location.

That night, wearing the same annoyingly pleasant expression as always, he asks whether she enjoyed the park.

"It was a little crowded for my taste, but yeah," she nods. "I liked the ducks." She takes a sip of her wine, sets it down, and then gives him her best guileless smile. "Did you enjoy the Glades?"

The other six people at the table—a different group of his people dine with them every night, and she's mostly given up on keeping track—freeze. Oliver slowly lowers his fork to his plate.

"One of your father's old factories, wasn't it?" she continues, and lets her smile shift into something sharper. "That sure seems like a weird place to spend such a pretty day, but what do I know?"

Oliver's eyes narrow, and for the first time since he shook her father's hand and said You have a deal, she feels like he's really seeing her.

For a long moment, no one speaks. Their six nameless dining companions look like they're bracing themselves for bloodshed, but Felicity keeps her spine straight and her eyes locked on Oliver's. She's been married to him for a week, and he's spent the whole time alternating between ignoring her and playing some weird mind game.

It's about time he realizes that she is not her father's daughter. She's her mother's.

Slowly, one corner of his mouth ticks up in some approximation of a smile.

"Not as much as you think you do," he finally says, but it sounds more teasing than insulting.

"And not as little as you think," she counters.

His almost-smile widens into a grin. The man to his left actually whimpers.

"I guess not," Oliver allows. He lifts his glass to her in a silent toast, drinks, and then sets it down and resumes eating like nothing's happened.

Smugly, Felicity follows suit. The rest of dinner passes in silence.