Okay, so, there are a couple of things. First, this has been finished for a while and then I started Get Fit. Which I will hopefully finish tonight. Fingers crossed. Anyway, a couple of things. A) For those who have read this on both FF and A03, I'm thinking of putting all the linked one shots together, into one story on FF. So, thoughts on that? I feel it might be a bit more coherent if I do that.
B) this possibly does not go the way every one of you thought it might. For a couple of reasons, one, Oliver appeared to not be in the mood to cooperate but I figured that from the beginning because I did have to ring true to his character arc at some point. You'll see what I mean. Two, in saying that, you'll see how I'm trying to set this up for what's to come. I mean, I haven't even touched how Felicity becomes involved in the vigilante crusade yet.
So, in advance, I apologize! Please, bear with me!
As always, I do hope you enjoy this! It's so much fun to write, particularly the section near the end. I'm sure you'll all know what I mean when you get to it!
Enjoy!
Awkward Dating, Nerves and Decently Important Things
Felicity decides she's not going on the date.
There are many, many reasons behind her decision to not go on this date with Oliver Queen.
Starting with the fact that Oliver Queen is the vigilante. He's also a billionaire. Plus, he's ridiculously hot. He also comes with his own fleet of cargo planes full of baggage. Not to mention five years on a presumably deserted island.
Oh, he didn't even ask her out on this date.
His bodyguard did.
Felicity is pretty sure that's insulting.
Well, actually, it wasn't really because she likes Mr. Diggle. He's funny and he was the one who told her to go on this date and tell Oliver off for his complete lack of…well, Felicity isn't entirely sure what Oliver's lacking by asking his bodyguard to ask her out on a date.
Manners, maybe?
Common sense, most likely.
In any case, Oliver is due to knock on her door in about, Felicity narrows her eyes at her kitchen clock, four minutes and thirty-eight seconds and she's not going.
There is absolutely no way Oliver Queen is going to get her on this date.
For one thing, she is absolutely not dressed for a date.
She's in her sweatpants and, okay, if he looks closely than he will be able to see the fact that she's wearing make-up and her hair has been curled, which she's tried to hide by pulling it up, and then he may conclude that up until about ten minutes ago, she was going on this date.
Which is totally not true.
It was more like, twenty minutes ago.
As it is, her dress is still lying on her bed, ready and waiting to be worn.
It's a really pretty dress, all red and a little bit slinky. It's got these cutouts in the back that Felicity loves and she hasn't worn it yet.
Because she was saving it for a date.
Except, now she's not going because of d) all of the above, so back in the closet her pretty red dress will go.
And Oliver will never know.
Actually, Felicity thinks, he probably will know.
Her stomach is turning itself into knots and Felicity is pretty sure that the second she opens the door, she'll tell him about her dress and why she isn't wearing it.
She will resolutely not tell him that the reason she's not going on this date is because she's nervous.
Felicity figures that you'd have to be an idiot to not be nervous when one Oliver Queen asks you to dinner.
But that's really just a surface reason.
Sort of an excuse she can throw out there in case he notices that she's nervous. Which he won't because Felicity is going to calmly explain that she's not going because...well, she hasn't figured that part out yet.
She may have to work on her excuse.
You know, just in case she tells him that she's nervous.
Maybe she'll say she's in mourning for her cat.
Though Felicity still doesn't know if Oliver actually bought her cat excuse or not.
She's thinking not.
The point is, she's nervous and she's got no excuse for why she's suddenly not going on this date and…
…he's knocking on the door.
Crap.
Where did her four minutes go?
Oliver knocks on the door again and Felicity stares at it. Maybe she can pretend she's not at home. Or that she thought that they were meeting at the place they most definitely have not set up.
Maybe she can just hide.
She kind of fits under her bed.
Kind of.
"Felicity?"
Oliver's voice comes through the door, sort of muffled but curious and Felicity glances around her apartment frantically, searching for somewhere to dive when Oliver speaks again.
"Felicity, I know you're there. Your lights are on and I can hear you breathing."
Felicity startles at that.
He so cannot hear her breathing.
Momentarily forgetting her nervousness, Felicity stomps over to her front door and yanks it open, only to be momentarily stunned in speechlessness.
Oliver is wearing a suit.
And his shirt's open a little at the throat.
This is so unfair. A person is not allowed to be this hot.
Not in a suit.
It's so damn unfair.
"Did you just stomp your foot?" Oliver quirks an eyebrow at her and Felicity just continues staring at him. He looks at her contemplatively for a second, too. "Am I early?"
He looks genuinely concerned that he may be early and Felicity doesn't know what to do.
She could calmly explain that she's not going on the date and that it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the excuse she can't think of. Or she could do what instinct is telling her to do.
Which is throwing her hands in the air and proclaiming: "I give up."
Oliver looks even more confused by this and Felicity just rolls her eyes. Turning on the heel she definitely didn't stomp, she walks into her apartment and turns to watch Oliver follow her and close the door.
He still looks confused.
"Felicity?"
"No. Nope, you're not early. And I did not stomp my foot either; I just…tapped the ground lightly. Okay? Tapping the ground lightly is not stomping my foot. It's tapping. Also, you so could not hear me breathing." Felicity snaps and then blows out a breath. "Why do you think you're early?"
Oliver looks at her like she should know the answer to that question and Felicity just continues to stare at him.
He really needs to start answering her questions.
"Because you're not dressed."
"That depends on your version of being dressed." Felicity tells him imperiously and Oliver's eyebrows furrow every so slightly.
"Felicity? Are you okay?" Oliver asks, sounding only slightly more concerned then he had two seconds ago.
Only slightly, though.
Apparently, her weirdness is something he's getting used to.
"Fine. Fine. Absolutely fine. Just, you know, not dressed. Or sane, apparently. This is your fault, by the way. Me being fine. Not undressed. I mean, underdressed. Not undressed. Ugh. I'm fine. Fine. Peachy keen, really." Felicity pauses and then rewinds what she's said.
Yep.
She said 'peachy keen'.
Fantastic.
"Felicity, are you sure you're fine?"
Felicity's halfway to her room when Oliver asks the question and she turns to look at him because, well, now he sounds really concerned.
"No. I'm just nervous, okay?"
Oliver's lips curve into a shadow of a smile at her words and she shuts her bedroom door at it because, well, damn it.
Apparently, she's going on this date.
How did that even happen?
The date turns out to be a bit of a letdown.
Not that Felicity had great expectations or anything.
Because, you know, up until he'd actually arrived she'd been convinced she wasn't going on this date. So thinking about what the actual date would entail hadn't really crossed her mind.
She'd been too busy being nervous.
Which is stupid, now that she thinks about it.
It's not like she's never had dinner with Oliver before. Really, she's eaten so much take out in the last month thanks to him that Felicity is pretty sure she can't remember how her stove works.
Not that she uses her stove.
That would imply that she can cook and she really can't.
But that's beside the point. The point is that the date is a bit of a letdown.
Surprisingly, it has very little to do with where they go.
Oliver takes her to French restaurant that's so expensive they don't print their prices on the menu. Felicity's pretty sure that if they did, people would die from shock at the amount of money they're supposed to spend on a small plate of food.
She supposes that they have to charge that in order to pay for the billion pieces of flatware they provide.
Felicity has honestly never seen so many forks in her life.
In any case, she does manage to get through dinner without insulting the waiter, spilling food on her dress and, in general, making a complete fool of herself.
Not that she expected any different.
She's filled her 'fool' quota for the day just by panicking before the date.
She's good now.
So, that wasn't really the problem.
No, the problem was Oliver.
Contemplatively, as she walks beside him after their very fine dinner, Felicity wonders how Oliver managed to be the problem on the date and not her.
It's a bit unexpected, really.
But it's nonetheless true. Oliver had spent their entire dinner being, well, uncomfortable comes to mind.
Surprising given that the amount of forks made her feel uncomfortable.
But Oliver really excelled during dinner.
He hadn't said a lot. He'd kept shifting in his chair and glancing around the room, like someone was going to jump out of the corner and shout 'boo'. He also had barely touched the very expensive food sitting on his plate.
Felicity is pretty sure that he'd grunted at the waiter by the end.
Oliver had just seemed unsure, through out. Like, he wasn't supposed to be doing this or something. Felicity isn't quite sure yet.
This could be a job for mint chip.
"Felicity? Are you okay?" Oliver's voice breaks into her thoughts and she glances at him.
Because, seriously, how many times is he going to ask that question tonight?
"Peachy. How are you?" She tells him, genuinely curious as to how he'll respond. Oliver shrugs and Felicity rolls her eyes, "Oliver, seriously, you learn to talk at, like, two. Five years on an island doesn't mean you forget the English language or how to string a sentence together." She tells him with a frown.
He looks a bit startled at her words and Felicity lifts her shoulders in response.
Apparently, she's moved on to filling her 'honest' quota for the day.
She then has a horrible thought.
Is Oliver regretting the date? Is that's what happening?
What did she do?
Apart from panic at the very beginning of the night and he'd seemed to find that…well, he'd seemed pleased by that. But maybe that's changed. Maybe he's just not pleased with how the date has gone.
Maybe she's screwed up and doesn't even know it.
"It's not that." Oliver's voice breaks into her thoughts.
"It's not what?" Felicity asks, confused and Oliver stops to look at her.
"You didn't do anything wrong." He tells her seriously, his face drawn.
How does he know what she was thinking?
"Oh, my God. Did I say all of that out loud?" Felicity asks; staring at him in horror and Oliver looks confused.
Possibly at her horror. Possibly at the implication that she hadn't meant to say any aloud.
She doesn't know.
But he looks confused.
"You didn't mean to?" He asks.
"No! You don't need to know that random thoughts in my head. Sometimes, I don't even want to know the random thoughts in my head. But you do. Now, anyway." Felicity shakes her head. "That's besides the point. What's wrong?"
Oliver doesn't reply immediately. His shoulders stiffen, though and Felicity's surprised to realize that she recognizes that this is one of Oliver's tells.
Which is interesting.
When on earth did she get to know Oliver Queen well enough to know what one of his tells are?
"Nothings wrong."
Felicity stops walking because that's really frustrating. There's clearly something wrong with Oliver and Felicity doesn't know how to get him to tell her what's wrong.
Asking doesn't seem to be working.
Also, again, Oliver's a terrible liar.
"Oliver? You're a really bad liar. Something's wrong. Like, really wrong. You've pretty much said nothing during dinner, you barely ate and I'm pretty sure our waiter is going to need therapy because you were scary. Like, grrr scary. Not, you know, billionaire scary." Felicity says, putting a hand on his arm to stop him from walking. Oliver stops walking and looks down at her hand on his arm.
Felicity feels that maybe she should take her hand off his arm. Except, well, she's sort of enjoying being able to feel the muscles in his forearms.
At some point, she's really going to have to get over this obsession she has with his body.
At some point.
Not, like, today. That would just be…wrong. She's just discovered how strong his forearm is.
"Felicity." Oliver starts quietly, placing his hand over hers. "I haven't been on a date in five years."
Oh.
She hadn't been expecting that.
Felicity's still thinking about what Oliver said days later.
She can't help it.
He basically implied that she's the first person he wanted to take on a date since he came back to Starling City.
He'd then dropped her home and walked away without a backward glance. Which would have been insulting except Felicity's still trying to figure out what happened on their date.
Not the implication or anything just…the date itself.
It had been a bit weird now that she's had time to think about it but, apparently, that can be forgiven because Oliver hasn't been on a date for five years.
Until he'd decided to ask her out.
She was his first date in five years.
That makes her…well, feel a little sick, actually.
She supposes that she's meant to feel giddy but she doesn't. Oliver saying that he hasn't been on a date in five years actually makes her begin to wonder what hell she's gotten herself into.
Because now's the time to wonder that.
Now, after finding out he hasn't been on a date in five years, that he's got no concept of technological advances or that he's the vigilante.
Because finding out that he hasn't been on a date in five years is a lot more important than the fact that he runs around in green leather, shooting people with arrows.
Nope, now is the time to wonder this. Now after finding out she's the first person to go out with him in five years.
She pretty much decided to wonder this now when she's knee deep in, well, Oliver and this…relationship?
Is she in a relationship with Oliver Queen?
Felicity blinks at the question.
Oh dear Lord. A relationship with Oliver Queen?
There is no actual television equivalent to the complicated mess that would be.
Because television? Television is fiction.
This is real.
"Miss Smoak?" Mr. Diggle's voice interrupts her thoughts and Felicity jumps and spins on her chair to face him.
"I am not going on another date." She announces when she sees him.
Mr. Diggle seems surprised at her announcement and then, he looks down at his feet and Felicity thinks he's probably trying to hide a smile.
Well, at least someone gets it.
"I'm not here to ask you on a date for Oliver, Miss Smoak."
"Good. I don't think I could cope."
Mr. Diggle seems surprised at her answer. Felicity doesn't know why. He's spent time with Oliver. He knows what Oliver can be like.
Hell, Felicity's pretty sure Mr. Diggle knows even better than her what Oliver can be like.
And he hasn't even had to kiss him.
"It is about Oliver, though. I need to speak to you about him." Mr. Diggle says and Felicity stares at him. "Can I pick you up after work?"
Felicity blinks.
She then says the first thing that comes into her head.
"Um, no offense, Mr. Diggle but I don't want to date you, either. Not that you're not nice or anything it's just that…well, you're not Oliver. I'm pretty sure I can only handle Oliver right now."
If it was possible for John Diggle to go white, Felicity is pretty sure he would have gone white.
Felicity then chooses to think about their entire exchange.
She then goes the opposite of John Diggle's paleness.
Fire engines have nothing on her face right now.
"You, ah, you weren't asking me out, were you?" She says quietly and Mr. Diggle shakes his head.
He coughs a little before he answers.
"No. No, I wasn't."
Felicity wonders if it's possible for her to self-destruct in 3, 2, 1…and nope. She's still here and she has most definitely just made a gaffe that has just topped her top ten Greatest Hits Ever list.
Like, seriously, this beats accidentally accusing her boyfriend's mother of cheating that one time in high school.
Oh God, let the ground swallow her whole.
Or she could just leave.
Leaving her cubicle would be absolutely preferable.
"I'm so sorry. So sorry. I can't even…I am so sorry. I am so sorry that just happened. It totally beats the date. And I didn't even say anything on the date!" Felicity says, her voice rising a little because, well, hello, absolutely embarrassment.
Absolute. Embarrassment.
Standing up and wiping her suddenly sweaty hands on her skirt, Felicity swallows hard and waits for Mr. Diggle to say something.
Because he needs to say something.
Otherwise she'll just keep apologizing and copious amounts of experience have taught her that if he doesn't say something, she'll say something else and embarrass herself even more.
How she'd do that, Felicity doesn't know.
Because how the hell would she top that?
"I'd still like to speak to you, Miss Smoak. If that's at all possible with your date schedule." Mr. Diggle says and Felicity holds up a sweaty hand.
That was not even as remotely funny as it could have been.
It probably won't be funny until, like, next year may be too soon.
"Way too soon, Mr. Diggle. Way too soon. Like, it'll always bee too soon." Felicity states sourly and then sighs. "But if you need to speak to me, sure. I can do after work. Is it important?"
"It's about Oliver. So it's…decently important." Mr. Diggle says with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'll meet you when you finish work." He says and walks away, leaving Felicity standing in her cubicle and staring at the space he just stood in.
What the hell does 'decently important' mean?
Felicity has to wait a little while to find out what 'decently important' means.
Because she runs into Oliver in the lobby of Queen Consolidated.
"Felicity."
"Oliver."
They stare at each other in front of the lobby desk and Felicity suddenly realizes this is the first time they've seen each other since their date.
Their brilliantly awkward date.
"Hi." She says, wanting to fidget but trying not to.
"Hello. How are you?" Oliver asks and Felicity tries really hard to not show the thrill that runs down her spine as he focuses on her.
Oliver's focus is so…hot.
It's intense, it's a little scary and there's just enough banked heat that Felicity suddenly remembers exactly what its like to be pressed up against that body.
"I'm, um, good. Pretty good. Just…yep, good." Oh for the love of…one day, Felicity decides, she's going to learn to string a sentence together in front of Oliver. One day. At least she hadn't said 'peachy keen.' "How are you? Why are you here? You don't have anything for me, do you? My days have dimmed without your bizarre requests and interesting stories."
Oliver's eyes shutter a little at her words and Felicity wonders what she said wrong.
She then thinks about it.
Maybe she shouldn't have said anything about his alter ego.
Actually, now that she thinks about it, she and Oliver haven't ever explicitly spoken about how they met or, well, just how well acquainted they were with each other.
Felicity doesn't know why Oliver won't talk to her about it.
She doesn't want to talk about it because, well, her life is complicated enough as it is.
And she doesn't know what to say.
'Hey, I think we should talk about how you're a wanted criminal and bled all over my couch before we go any further than we already have, okay?' is probably not the best way to open the conversation.
Besides, how much further can they go?
Her mind immediately flashes to exactly how far they still have to go and it involves her bed, naked skin on skin and a long, sweaty night.
Felicity goes red.
She can't believe that her mind just went there.
Coughing slightly to cover up her embarrassment, Felicity doesn't think she can look Oliver in the face just yet so she shifts it to over his shoulder.
"I'm good. I came to see my mother. She's taken over as CEO now that Walter's missing." Oliver says and then he lets out a breath. Felicity feels something niggle in her memory at his words but forgets it when Oliver speaks again. "Felicity, I think I need to apologize about the other night and for not calling you after."
Felicity stares at him because, huh?
He looks so serious but what else is new? Felicity shifts her gaze to his in surprise and yep, there's that heat again.
At least Felicity knows one thing about the situation she's in; there is no way she'll ever doubt that Oliver's attracted to her.
He gives too much away when he looks at her.
"Um, well, that's okay? Well, it's not but I had a lot to think about after that date and I'm pretty sure you did too. So, no big deal, right?"
Oliver looks faintly perturbed by the fact that she's dismissing his apology and Felicity doesn't quite know why.
Most guys would love to be off the hook about not calling after a screwy date.
"No, it's not okay. Felicity – "
Oliver's phone interrupts whatever he's about to say and his brow furrows as he pulls it out. Felicity watches in interest as he hangs up on whoever is calling him and looks at her.
She then glances around and notices that some people are staring at them.
She doesn't even have to wonder why.
It's been a slow gossip week.
"Oliver? I have to go. I need to get home. Can we talk about this later?"
Oliver seems to grit his jaw a little at her words and Felicity raises her eyebrows because he so does not think that she has nothing to do with her life besides sitting around and waiting to hear from him, does he?
If he does, that's really insulting.
"Sure. Are you doing anything tomorrow night?"
Felicity glances outside and sees John Diggle standing just to the side of the entrance way and refrains from waving at him. Somehow, she doesn't think Oliver knows the reason she can't talk to him right now is because of John Diggle.
She also doesn't think that Oliver would be too pleased about her talking to Mr. Diggle.
"No. No, I'm not."
"I think we need to talk. It's important. Can I come and see you?" He asks.
Felicity stares. "Since when do you ask for permission?"
Oliver's about to reply when his phone goes off again and he heaves out a breath, running a hand over his hair and drawing Felicity's attention to the fact that he needs a haircut.
Not that she doesn't like his hair when it's a little longer, like now but it's hotter when it's shorter.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Felicity." Oliver doesn't reply to her question and reaches out to squeeze her arm before he heads towards the elevators.
Felicity stares after him.
She can't help it.
She thinks he may have asked her out again but she's not sure. In any case, apparently she'll see him tomorrow.
To talk.
About something important.
Well, she's going to obsess about that until tomorrow.
Excellent.
Turning around, Felicity spots Mr. Diggle still waiting for her, so they can go and talk and takes a fortifying breath.
It's ironic that even though she probably strings more sentences together in an afternoon than Oliver and Mr. Diggle combined, Felicity really doesn't feel like talking.
Mostly because she's got a feeling she's not going to like the conversations she's about to have.
Oh, well.
Whatever it is, Felicity thinks it can't be anything worse than finding out about the vigilante, or Oliver, or what happens to mint chip when you drop it or an awkward date because Oliver hasn't been on one in five years.
Basically, it can't be any worse than her life has been up until this point.
She thinks, anyway.
Okay, do I need to apologize again? 'Cause I will. Please don't kill me for not going in depth about the date, they're absolutely not in the right space to do something that's as cute and funny as their first date in season three. In any case, next installment is shaping up to be a big one, hey? So, big, it might be a really, really, really long one. Hopefully, it won't take me too long to get it up and written. Please do let me know about me putting this into one story here on FF. It'll make my decision easier.
I do hope you enjoyed this though.
Also, Get Fit will hopefully be up soon. So, fingers crossed!
I hope you enjoyed! As always, reviews make any authors day, so help make mine? ;)