A/N: I am so, so happy to share this story with you all. The Accidental Boyfriend was such a wonderful experience for me (and hopefully for all of you!) and I am really excited to see where these characters go from here. Today's first installment is brought to you from a prompt sent to me by the lovely Caillean Killkenny!

Chapter One

Felicity was thrilled to learn three weeks into her and Oliver's marriage that she was now a member of Starling City's most illustrious – and only – country club. Oliver found her excitement amusing, noting that he didn't understand what was so thrilling about rich women in spandex and overpriced salads.

"I've never belonged to one before," she told him, already pairing some killer workout ensembles in her mind. "And here, I married into one without even knowing it!"

"Unexpected perk?" he teased, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he walked past her into the kitchen for a snack.

"You bet. Hey, so, you've probably been a member for a while, right?"

He shrugged, opening the refrigerator. "I guess, yeah."

"But I've never heard you mention it."

"I don't really go," he said. She watched him pull out a bag of sliced cheese, thinking to herself how often the privileged did not appreciate their privilege. And then she realized that she was privileged now, too.

She'd have to get used to that.

"But don't you pay for a membership?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"And you never go?"

He took a bite out of a slice of cheese and mumbled, "I'm busy."

She was about to ask him why he kept paying for something he didn't use, but then stopped herself. She'd just discovered her club privileges and she wasn't about to get her privileges revoked.

"Well, I will use it enough for the both of us," she said decisively, excitement blooming in her chest.

She went the next afternoon, dressed in a retro polka dot one-piece with a bright red sarong tied around her waist. Freshly painted blue toenails peaked out of her sandals.

The club's pool was nicer than some resort pools she'd seen. It was outdoors, flanked by cheery white lounge chairs and a few tables with canopies for shade. The pool had a circular structure built right in the middle with a nice flat top so people could actually lounge with their drinks in the pool.

Not wanting to go all out on her first trip, Felicity had brought in her own bottle of iced tea and a bag of pretzels that hadn't fared well in her bag, fine powdered pretzels pooling at the bottom of her bag.

She walked over to one of the lounge chairs and untied the sarong, folding it carefully before slipping it in her bag. She pulled out the newest issue of Wired and settled back for a relaxing afternoon in the sun.

And then she started feeling the looks. First she thought she was imagining things, but when she caught a few gazes, the owners of said gazes looking away quickly, she had to admit something was up. A woman sat down one chair away from her, eyeing Felicity's bag of pretzels.

"Oh, you brought your own snacks. How cute."

The tone was derisive at best, and at a loss for what else to do, Felicity held out the bag and asked, "Do you want some?"

"No, thank you. I don't eat carbs after eleven."

"Oh, right. Sure. Well, I'll just…" she stuffed a pretzel in her mouth, happy to have the loud crunch of her chewing drown out the self-conscious babbling in her head.

She tried to tune the people out, but eventually it became too difficult and she left. It hadn't even been that bad after the pretzel debacle, but she was too jumpy then to actually enjoy herself. Oliver was on the couch, watching some old episode of The Walking Dead, when she walked into their apartment.

"That would never actually work," she heard him say as she shut the door. She assumed he was talking about Daryl's archery – he usually was – and, sure enough, he added, "With the bow at that angle, he would have never hit that walker in the eye."

"Well, hello to you, too," she grumbled.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning around on the couch to see her. "How was the club? Was it everything you hoped it would be?"

"It was fine," she said noncommittally.

"Fine? You were practically salivating earlier about the club, and it was just fine?"

"Yeah," she said, voice rising slightly. "It was just fine, okay? I'm…" she trailed off, reaching up to adjust her ponytail and then changing her mind, "I'm going to go shower."

It took her all of one step toward the bedroom before he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," she mumbled.

"Felicity." He got up and walked toward her. "Tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened," she returned glumly. "I just didn't fit in."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters I brought my own snacks – which apparently is tantamount to wearing cut offs at Chez Paul – and then everyone just kept staring at me."

"It's probably because you look good in your suit."

"It was women, Oliver."

"They can look, too."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't fit in there, Oliver. I didn't belong."

"Now, that's not true," he said, stepping forward and slipping his arms around her waist. "You do belong there. I'm pretty sure there's a membership card to prove it."

"That's not what I mean," she sighed. "I don't know why I expected to fit in there. I mean, I thought that maybe because we're married now…but, nope, same old me. Same old Felicity Smoak, bringing crushed pretzels to a high end country club."

"Is that a bad thing? If I remember correctly, I'm a pretty big fan of Felicity Smoak. I even fell in love with her."

She smiled slightly.

"I like that you haven't changed, Felicity. I like that you get excited over country clubs and bring your own snacks. That's you, and I wouldn't change it for the world."

She reached up and kissed him, basking in the way his arms tightened around her waist like he was afraid she'd disappear if he didn't feel his arms press against her skin. When they pulled apart he murmured, "Are you okay now?"

She nodded, sliding her hands up his arms. She'd never really not been okay, but what happened that afternoon – the needling hint of inadequacy – stayed with her, anyway. It stayed with her when she went back to the club later that week, and when she went with Oliver to a dinner party with some of Moira's friends. And it was with her when they attended their first society function together as man and wife.

It was a gala raising funds for The Glades held at the Starling City Museum of Contemporary Art. Loud paintings clashed with the understated décor, something that made Felicity smile. She loved a proper juxtaposition, and this gala was chock full of them from the clashing décor to the fact that men and women were dressed in seven hundred dollar outfits and drinking nine dollar champagne as they waxed and waned about the absolute horror that was poverty.

Oliver touched her elbow and gently nudged her toward where Moira and Thea were sitting. There was an empty seat beside Thea, and just as Oliver went to say something Thea interrupted with, "Before you ask, no, my boyfriend is not here. No, I don't know where he is. And, yes, I am envisioning several ways to cause him bodily harm."

Oliver grinned. "I wasn't going to ask any of those questions, but thank you for sharing." He walked over to Moira and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful tonight, Mom."

"Thank you, dear." She grinned at Felicity over Oliver's shoulder. "Hello, Felicity."

"Mrs. Queen, hi," Felicity said. Moira went to correct Felicity when she quickly said, "I mean, Moira. Hi, Moira."

The older woman nodded contently. "That's it. We're family now, after all."

"I can't believe he'd stand me up," Thea said, glowering into what was likely not a virgin Shirley Temple. "He knows how much I hate these things. And these people."

Oliver chuckled, noticing the few glances pulled toward his ornery sister. "I'm sure Roy will be here, Thea. I think I heard him way something about finishing up a project at Verdant."

Thea narrowed her eyes. "What project?"

"I don't remember the specifics," Oliver said lightly, although Felicity could sense the slight edge to his voice that was there whenever someone pushed on one of his cover stories. "Well, Felicity and I are going to get our drinks."

They headed toward the bar and she said, "He's doing something Hood-related, isn't he?"

"We got a lead on a weapons manufacturer out here. He said he'd check it out."

"It's not dangerous, is it?" she asked nervously, thinking about how her and Oliver were at the gala and not in the foundry providing backup. Oliver shook his head and she relaxed.

"It's just recon. He actually should be here soon. He mentioned tonight, so he knows Thea's expecting him."

They got their drinks and were heading back when she felt Oliver stiffen. She followed his gaze and was not the least surprised to see Laurel Lance. She'd been mid-wave, but when her gaze met Felicity's her hand dropped.

'You should go say hi," Felicity said decisively.

He looked at her in surprise, and she couldn't blame him. Laurel hadn't reacted the best to their engagement, and she'd largely avoided them since the wedding.

"Is this a test or something?" Oliver asked.

"No, it's not a test," she told him firmly. "Go. My drink and I will be just fine."

He held her gaze – almost as if he was trying to call her bluff – but when she was silent he relented and said, "I'll be right back."

"Okay."

She watched him walk off toward Laurel with her perfectly cut dress and finger waves that seemed to never loose their bounce. She didn't understand that girl's hair – it defied gravity. She was silently considering different styling tools when a woman joined her.

"It feels like old times seeing those two together."

Felicity glanced over at the woman in surprise. She was an older woman wearing a smart red suit with pearls the size of nickels around her unnaturally smooth neck.

"Oliver and Laurel," the woman said, as if she didn't know Felicity knew exactly what she was talking about. "Of course, all of that is ancient history, as you know. I suppose congratulations are in order. Your little impromptu wedding was the talk of the town.

"Oh," Felicity murmured, silently mulling over whether it would be rude to pretend she saw someone and get away from this woman.

"So, I have to ask…" the woman began, leaning in. "How far along are you?"

Felicity blanched. "Excuse me?"

The woman took Felicity's outrage in stride and returned, "Well, you two did elope."

"No, we had a small wedding."

"Same thing," the woman said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The only reason to squeeze in a quickie wedding is to squeeze it in before you show."

"I'm not pregnant," Felicity said quietly.

"You don't have to lie to me, dear."

Frustrated flaring, Felicity loudly snapped, "I am not pregnant!"

Oliver returned right at that very moment, confusion pulling at his eyebrows as he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," the woman said. Felicity was relieved to see her poised to leave, but she deflated when the woman glanced at her wine glass and said, "But she really shouldn't be drinking. This isn't the 60's."

The woman strode away from them with a wiggle of her red-tweed-clad-bottom, and Oliver asked, "Why does she think you're pregnant, again?"

"Because we had a small wedding."

He nodded and said, "Oh, sure, of course."

Felicity didn't know the woman she'd spoken with earlier, and if she had she would have kept her distance, because Felicity had unwittingly spoken with Starling City's resident gossip, Cathy Applebaum. In Cathy Applebaum's opinion, the lady doth protest too much when the pregnancy was brought up, and she took it as near confirmation.

Felicity took a sip of her wine, frowning when she saw a woman at the next table shaking her head disapprovingly.

"This is ridiculous," Felicity huffed, putting the glass down noisily on the table. Oliver covered her hand with his on the table.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. Everyone thinks I'm the pregnant drinking lady now. This is bad, Oliver. This is really bad."

"With the amount of liquor passing through their lips, they'll forget all about it by tomorrow," he told her.

"You know I wouldn't drink if I was pregnant, right?" she asked him.

He grinned a bit and kissed her. "Yes, Felicity. I never had any doubt. Now, why don't you try to relax and enjoy yourself?" He glanced down at her empty plate. "How about some appetizers? Do you want more of those stuffed mushrooms?"

She shook her head. "I think I ate the entire last batch."

She'd actually chased down the waiter with them and unceremoniously plucked three from the platter.

"I love your appetite," Oliver teased.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom," she said, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss. "If anyone comes over here, will you please tell them we're not expecting? Because apparently my word doesn't count, but maybe your mighty male one will."

He smirked. "I'll do my best."

She walked over to the bathroom and snagged one of the larger stalls. She heard a group of women enter behind her, and she paid them no attention until she heard a familiar name.

"Oliver's new wife – what's her name?" a voice asked.

"Felicia, I think," another voice said. "Wait, no, Felicity. Yeah, Felicity. That's her name."

"Did you hear she's pregnant?"

"What? Didn't we see her drinking wine?"

"Maybe it was non-alcoholic wine," a third voice chimed in.

"They way she was guzzling it, I doubt it," the first voice said. The other two snickered.

"You did hear about her parents, right? Her father ran away to God knows where, and then her mother-"

"A waitress at a casino!" the other girl finished, voice rising at the end. "How embarrassing, right?"

"I'd definitely make up a backstory if I had a past like that."

Felicity sat frozen in the stall, listening to the three women tear apart a childhood that they knew absolutely nothing about. Yes, her mother was a waitress at a casino, but she'd done that so that her daughter could go to college. You couldn't be choosy in Las Vegas, not with the money situation they were in after her dad split, so her mom did the best she could. And, in Felicity's opinion, she'd done a pretty good job.

Wiping at her eyes briefly, she stood and pushed the door open. The three women fell silent when they saw her, pointedly beginning to check their makeup in the mirror as she washed her hands. Before she left, she turned back toward them and said, "My father ended up in California. At least that was the first place. Now he's in Texas and on his fourth wife. You can add that the next time you go ahead and make fun of someone you've never met."

The tallest girl – one wearing a dress that could have moonlighted as a shirt – said, "You know, you shouldn't drink when you're pregnant. It's causes, like, birth defects and stuff."

"Yeah, you also shouldn't procreate when you have a brain the size of a lima bean," she retorted. "But I'm sure that won't stop any of you. And, for the record, I'm not pregnant, so I'm going to go finish my wine. You girls have a super night."

She walked out, enjoying the stunned silence behind her.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked when she returned. "You were gone for a while."

"Oh yeah, just listening to some girls pick apart my past in the bathroom stall. Fun times."

"What?" Oliver bit out.

"It's fine," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "They just – they heard from that Cathy Applebaum lady that I was pregnant, and they were remarking on the wine, and…yada yada."

"This is ridiculous," he said.

"What's ridiculous?" Moira asked, joining them. She noticed the tense set of Oliver's shoulders and asked, "What's going on?"

Oliver gestured toward the gossip herself and said, "That woman is telling everyone that Felicity is pregnant, and that's why we got married so quickly in Chicago."

Moira pressed her lips together, eyes darting to the side. "Is that so? Well, if you'll excuse me, there is someone I think I need to have a few words with."

"Mom, don't-"

"No one slanders my family," Moira said firmly. "Now, stay here. I will deal with this."

Moira strode over to Cathy Applebaum, who beamed at the younger woman as she cooed, "Moira, dear, you are positively glowing. Of course, I can understand why."

She finished it off with a wink and Moira gently took a hold of her arm and steered her to the side.

"Yes, I understand you've been telling people my son and his wife are expecting despite them telling you repeatedly that it's not true."

"Why, I don't know what you're talking about," Cathy returned with feigned innocence.

"Of course you don't," Moira returned in kind. "Just like you didn't know what anyone was talking about when a bit of money went missing from the ALA gala. Or that time Katie McDougal couldn't believe she'd misplaced almost an entire set of her grandmother's silver. And, let's not forget, the time Natasha Harrington swore she saw you leaving Pastor Markham's home after dark."

The levity had drained from Cathy's face and she stammered, "I-I don't know what you're talking about, Moira."

"Of course you don't, Cathy, dear. And that is why you will go around this party and tell every single person here that you were mistaken. My daughter in law isn't pregnant. And when you're finished telling everyone, you'll decide it's time to call it a night and go home. How does that sound?"

Cathy swallowed hard. "It sounds perfect."

"Perfect," Moira cooed. "Now, it was wonderful seeing you. Good bye."

Felicity had been watching the interaction between Moira and Cathy with complete rapture, grasping Oliver's arm tightly when the older woman had blanched and going, "What did your mom just say? Can you read lips?"

He couldn't, and when Moira returned she refused to say what transpired but simply said, "It's handled."

Moira sidled off to the bar and Felicity murmured, "I did not have nearly enough respect for your mother before."

The next week Felicity sat on one of the lounge chairs at the country club, Ziploc bag of pretzels next to her leg, when she spotted one of the women who had been talking about her in the bathroom. She avoided eye contact, hoping the woman would have the good manners to just ignore her, but then she felt her approaching, and Felicity watched with barely concealed disappointment as the woman sat down on the chair directly beside her.

"Hi," the girl said nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Hi," she said shortly, pointedly returning her attention to the book in her lap.

"Look, I wanted to apologize about this weekend," the girl began. "My friends and I – that was pretty shitty. Actually, it was sort of the shittiest. We should have never made fun of you…and I actually think what your mom did was pretty cool. I mean, she raised you on her own. That couldn't have been easy, and obviously she did a good job because you seem normal and everything, so…" she trailed off, biting her bottom lip nervously. "Anyway, I'll go. I just wanted to say I was sorry."

Felicity hesitated for a moment before saying, "You don't have to leave. It's fine."

"Really?"

Felicity nodded. "I accept your apology. But you guys should really make sure the person you're trashing isn't in the bathroom prior to the trashing."

"It was a pretty rookie move," the girl joked.

Felicity smiled, deciding that she sort of liked this girl. It took some gumption to walk over and apologize when it was very, very likely that it could have gone poorly. She respected that.

The girl settled back on the seat beside her and Felicity picked up the bag of pretzels and held them out to her.

"Pretzel?"

The girl smiled and nodded. "Thanks."

Felicity watched her new acquaintance pluck a pretzel from the bag, thinking to herself that maybe she could fit into this life, after all.

A/N: And, we're off! Keep sending me prompts - I LOVE reading them all :D Also, please review! I need to know there are readers!