Title: Strawberries and Apples (Day 113)
Word Count: 2119

Notes: Yes, I know, I have a series of all of these in Going Mental. I just wanted to post this one separately so I can include it in my OHFAT collection. This is the very last OHFAT prompt, sadly, but I think it turned out okay. I'll let you decide.

It took me forever to think of an idea for this prompt, but when I did, this came up in the next few minutes. Seriously, I started on it this morning.

"Please, Oliver?" Felicity asks, pointing out her window.

Oliver isn't foolish enough to think he can deny her request. Since she became the consultant to their team almost four months ago, he's learned that people who say no to Felicity Smoak end up with a long series of bad luck. Suddenly their computers don't work, their phones malfunction, and any important reminders disappear from the system. He's not sure how she did it, but he's certain that she was behind the incident when Slade's phone did its best impression of a firework.

Mysterious electronic malfunctions are what made Oliver request a file on her, and there it was: dual Masters of Science in Computer Engineering and Cybersecurity from MIT. Between the blonde hair, smiles, and bright dresses, it's easy for them to dismiss her as sweet and earnest, but every once in a while, he has to remind himself that this is a woman who swindled people out of their fortunes—and often their homes. It's her talent: she makes them see what they want to see. Underneath all the bright lipstick and short skirts is the same woman who manipulated them for the Red John case files.

With a sigh, he flips on his turn signal, maneuvering the government-issue vehicle onto the gravel path to the farmer's market. Felicity makes a noise of delight, opening the door before he even shifts the car into park. She leans over the console to kiss his cheek, and he turns to her with raised eyebrows. "Thank you, Oliver!" she says with a smile. "I'll bring you back an apple!" With that, she's gone, gravel crunching under her shoes.

After checking in the rearview mirror for any trace of lipstick on his face, he angles it so that he can keep an eye on her. When she's out of his line of vision, he sighs, pulling the keys from the ignition as he opens the door. Leaning against the Suburban, he watches her carry on a conversation with a vendor. The man smiles as he talks to her, which is to say nothing of Felicity herself. The only word that Oliver can find to describe her is radiant: bright smiles and hand gestures make her light up like a ray of sunshine.

It's at times like these that Oliver admits to himself that he might be a little in love with her. He's sure that most people are—except people like Slade, who she torments for her own amusement. There's just some quality about Felicity Smoak that makes her bewitching. In her rare good days—like this one—there's even more charisma in her voice and bounce in her step, and a trail of good humor and pleasantness follow her wherever she goes. It only adds to the effect that she's just as aesthetically beautiful as her personality.

On days like this, it's easy to forget she'd put a bullet in his head if it brought her one step closer to Red John.

Oliver's expression sours immediately. He's seen the fire in her eyes when she talks about the case, and he's seen enough desperate, vengeful people in his line of work to know what it looks like. Her vendetta borders on obsession, burying herself so deep in those damn case files that she doesn't sleep or eat. He learned early on that only one thing matters to her, and that's seeing Red John's head on a platter—or something equally as dubious.

That's the thought on his mind when she skips up to him with an apple and a small container of strawberries. "Why the long face, Oliver?" she asks, tossing him the apple. He catches it easily as she bites into one of the strawberries with a sinful noise. "You should try these," Felicity insists, waving around the remnant of the one in her hand to punctuate the thought. "They're the best strawberries I've had since I picked some out of the fields in Florida." Oliver blinks twice; nothing in her records ever mentioned Florida. "They're a little sour today, though. Kind of like you." He throws her a look. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," is the only answer he gives. There's no point in discussing this with Felicity. She'd give him false assurances and make him feel better about it—but only until she stabbed him in the back on her way to Red John. If there's one thing he knows about Felicity Smoak, it's that she lies. Well, often, and beautifully.

She shakes her head, and he almost feels guilty when the smile slips off her face. "Fine," is all she says before finishing off the strawberry in her hand. "There's no point in prying when you get like this." She motions to the apple in his hand. "But you should at least enjoy that apple. I picked out the best one in the bunch, and I didn't even spit on it." She winks. "You can trust me."

That's the heart of the problem, isn't it? "I can't trust you, Felicity," Oliver admits slowly. "That's what I've been thinking about."

Felicity looks at him as though he just slapped her. "You don't trust me?" she repeats.

Scoffing Oliver replies, "Don't act like you don't know I have major trust issues. You knew that five minutes after we met." Felicity shrugs a shoulder noncommittally. "Trusting people is… it's hard for me." He motions to her. "You can pretend otherwise if you want, but you have just as many as I do." Someone snuck into her home and murdered her husband, someone nameless and faceless that could be anyone on the street. It's probably a miracle she isn't more paranoid.

"I don't have trust issues," she assures him, rolling her eyes as she bites into another strawberry. "I'm very selective about who I trust, but that's not the same thing at all. I just carefully select my circle of trusted people." Lifting a shoulder, Felicity admits, "Right now it's currently a circle of one—which technically isn't a circle but a straight line—but the point is that I trust people." She motions to him. "I trust you."

"No, you don't," Oliver insists, shaking his head. "I don't trust you, either."

After studying him for a long moment, Felicity replies quietly, "It's really upsetting to hear that, but thank you for being honest with me." Her head tilts to the side. "I think you actually meant that. Really?" She puts a hand to her breastbone. "You don't trust me?"

"Of course not," he replies, the admission more blunt than he intended. "Felicity, all you've done for the last four months is lie to me, mislead the team, and trick us. That isn't what it looks like when you trust someone. That doesn't build trust." He motions between them. "Why would I trust you?"

"I have never lied to you," Felicity insists, drawing herself up to full height. It doesn't add much and she still barely comes up above his shoulder, but it catches his attention all the same. "And I swear to you on Cooper's grave that I've never lied to you. That is not an oath I take lightly, Oliver." Just this once, he actually believes it. "I might occasionally mislead you, and I might tell a partial version of the truth and let you draw your own conclusions, but I have never outright lied to you. And I promise you I never will."

The chuckle that leaves Oliver is bitter. "Felicity, that's the kind of distinction that makes it hard for me to trust you." He sighs as she frowns as though that's a novel idea. "I guess I'll just have to accept that you and I are very different people and that, as long as you can help this team close cases, we can work together."

"That is absolutely unacceptable, Oliver," Felicity insists, and he cringes at her belligerent tone. That's the tone she takes when she is determined and won't take no for an answer. For the foreseeable future, she's going to be trying every little thing she can to earn his trust—except changing her relationship with the truth. "You are important to me. This is probably going to freak you out, but you are the most important person in my life right now." She takes his free hand in hers. "I need you to know that I would take a bullet for you—happily. I trust you. And I need you to be able to trust me like that, too."

He shakes his head. "I know you aren't used to being wrong, Felicity," he starts, "but the only thing you can do to make me trust you is change your relationship with the truth." He pulls his hand from hers, even as Felicity tries to hold on. "You're not trustworthy." He shifts. "I like you and I rely on your ability to read people, but that doesn't mean I trust you. That's more than just personality or skill."

Her face lights up suddenly. "We should do a trust fall," she declares. When Oliver does nothing more than stare at her, she clarifies, "It's a teambuilding exercise that they do in all these fancy corporate retreats." She motions between them. "You fall back and I catch you before you hit the ground. It's a fast way to build trust between two people." She puts her carton of strawberries on the hood of the Suburban. "Come on, I'll show you."

"No," he replies flatly, walking away.

"Please, Oliver?" Felicity calls from behind him.

It stops him in his tracks. It's that same please from before, the one that gives the illusion of free will but promises electronic mayhem if he doesn't comply. But this time it's different—something about her tone and her emphasis. This time it's an open-ended and allows him to make his choice. And, though it might kill him, Oliver really wants to trust her.

Turning with a sigh, Oliver asks with the barest hint of a smile, "You're going to hock me about this until I say yes, aren't you?"

Felicity nods several times, a blinding grin on her face. It's the grin of someone who knows they've already won, but too modest to admit it. "I'm a hocker," she agrees. "It's one of my superpowers."

"Did you really need another one?" he can't help but ask. Felicity Smoak is already sixty-five inches of pure terror wrapped in a bubbly, blonde package—maybe sixty-eight, if he counts the heels. The last thing she needs on top of a genius IQ, an uncanny ability to read people, and a skill with technology that borders on art is the bull-headedness that would rival his baby sister.

She only grins, motioning for him to turn around. He does as she asks, rolling his eyes all the while. "Now you just fall," Felicity instructs. "I'm going to catch you. But take into consideration you're twice my size, so if you fall too hard, you're going to take both of us down to the dirt."

He leans back for what feels like an eternity, slowly. Finally he feels her hands on his back, shoving him back up. When he turns and straightens his suit jacket, it's to a triumphant Felicity with her hands in the air. "See? I caught you," she declares. She pokes his shoulder. "And I'm always going to catch you."

Rolling his eyes, Oliver replies in a dry tone, "And now I magically trust you." He bites into the apple in his hand. "It must have worked."

Motioning to the apple, Felicity says, "You've never touched any food I've brought you in the last four months," she declares. Too late, he remembers that she was the one who gave him the apple. "It's okay if you don't consciously trust me, Oliver. Subconsciously, you do, and that's all that matters to me. You don't have to admit it." Her head tilts to the side. "Not yet, anyway. There will be a time when I need to hear it, but for now I'm willing to be patient."

"You've never been patient about anything before," Oliver retorts.

"Maybe not," she agrees with a slow smile, "but you've made an exception for me today. I'm willing to make the same for you. That's how a partnership works, right?" She motions between them. "We compromise for each other."

"I lead a team, Felicity," Oliver corrects. "I don't have a partner." He doesn't add that consultants are supposed to be subordinate; after one case together, he knew that was never going to happen. But here they both are anyway.

She just winks. "All the more reason why you need me."

End Notes: For my frequent fliers who are curious about what will happen when OHFAT is over: Honestly, I have no idea. I've been swamped with school recently, so I know I won't be making it back to either of my WIPs (Decode and Breaking News) any time soon, as much as I would like to finish those.

I know I have some thoughts stored back for Hardwired and Curiosity Killed the Cat at the moment, the former especially itching to be finished. Either way, you're probably looking at one-shots for the foreseeable future. Maybe in December/January I can get around to those WIPs.

Also, TheBookJumper has discussed continuing with Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon prompts (under a different name, of course). If that pans out, you may see more prompted one-shots.

TL;DR: You're looking at one-shots from me, with the possibility of more of my WIPs around December/January.