Chapter One

Oliver Queen knew it wasn't a good idea to steal a yacht. Actually, to put it more aptly, sober Oliver knew it wasn't a good idea to steal a yacht. Even tipsy Oliver knew better. But drunk Oliver, with nearly half a fifth of whiskey and too many beers to count, loved the idea. He even came up with it. Barreling down the marina with a half-full bottle of Stella Artois, he looked at the cavernous yacht with its rich mahogany paneling and self-important railings, and thought to himself that he'd never seen something more beautiful. So, naturally, like most things beautiful that came into Oliver's path, he decided he had to have it. And, like those other beautiful things that came into Oliver's path, he did. Except this time, the having wasn't exactly consensual.

Which is how Oliver ended up standing in front of a judge in the Starling City courthouse, wearing that one Brooks Brother suit that he hated and sweating clear through his shirt. He always heard that courtrooms were kept cold to make sure the jurors didn't fall asleep, but this one must have been at least seventy five degrees. The judge was talking, but he wasn't listening. He just nodded, like his lawyer instructed.

"Don't say a word," his lawyer, Jim, had lectured him before they entered the courtroom. "Just nod and try to look contrite. Think you can handle that?"

He could, in fact, handle that. He was a pro at excelling for show; you don't come from one of the wealthiest families in Starling City without learning how to fake it just a bit. Otherwise you'd never make it through the endless ring of pointless parties and emblematic discussion of your future. They key to not crumbling under the pressure was to simply pretend it wasn't there in the first place.

Oliver took to nodding whenever the judge's voice rose in volume, which seemed to work out well enough. Jim never elbowed him or cleared his throat to indicate he nodded out of place.

"Do you understand me, son?" the judge said loudly, the elongated pause following the question alerting Oliver to the same.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" Oliver asked, working to bookend the question with the most abashed look he could muster. The judge wasn't impressed.

"Do you understand me," he repeated, the words clipped. "You can't use your last name as a get out of jail free card. What sort of example does that set for everyone else? You must take responsibility for your actions."

"My client could not agree more," Jim interjected smoothly. "We are more than happy to pay the owners of the yacht whatever they want, provided it's reasonable, of course. My client is willing to –"

"I am not going to allow your client to buy his way out of this," the judge said harshly. Oliver started listening then. "Too often, the children of this city's upper crust come in here and expect to sign away any problems on the bottom of a check. It's a disgrace to our justice system. Payment for transgressions means more than money."

"Your honor, if I may –"

"You may not. My decision is made. Mr. Queen will pay a 10,000 dollar fine and complete 500 hours of community service. He…"

Oliver stopped hearing anything after that. Five hundred hours? How was he supposed to complete that on top of his responsibilities at Queen Consolidated? How was he supposed to complete that period? Five hundred wasn't exactly a small number, and where the hell did they expect him to complete them. He wasn't about to go sling soup at a soup kitchen.

He vaguely heard Jim try to argue down the community service hours, but his lawyer was silenced by the judge's gavel smashing against the desk. Jim whisked his client out of the courtroom, his cheeks flushed and an errant lock of hair dipping down below his eyebrow. He swiped at it furiously, but it fell back down.

"This is ridiculous," Jim muttered. "He's just making an example of you. It isn't fair. We should have been in front of Judge Horton. He would have let you go with half that fine and nothing else."

"They can't seriously expect me to complete 500 hours, right?" Oliver asked. "I have other responsibilities. A job. A life."

"They are very serious," Jim said. "But, don't worry. We'll get a few under your belt and then petition the court to reduce it. I can't promise anything, especially with that ass hole, but we can try."

"I still have to do some?" Oliver asked in disappointment. His gaze toward Jim hardened. What was the point of having a lawyer if you still ended up having to pay.

Jim took in Oliver's disgruntled look and said, "Hey, pal, maybe you should have stopped to think before you stole another person's fucking yacht."

"I did think," Oliver said. "It just wasn't a particularly good thought. Look, are you sure there isn't some other way to get me out of this? Hey, maybe we can make some of my work at Queen Consolidated go toward those community service hours. We have that community outreach program thing, right?"

Jim shook his head. "Two entirely different things, Oliver. You have to do the work, at least in the beginning. Look, you don't worry about it. I will find a place for you to work. All you have to do is show up and don't totally burn the place down. It'll be a cake walk, okay?"

BBBBB

"Community service?" Tommy said, shaking his head morosely. "That's rough, man. I thought Jim was going to get you off on a fine?"

"Apparently I need a better lawyer," Oliver said, crashing onto the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table. Tommy was with Oliver the night of yacht-gate, as it became lovingly referred to in their apartment, but had the good fortune of vomiting into a garbage can across the marina when the police arrived.

"That yacht is so not worth all of this. It wasn't even that big," Tommy said.

"I couldn't agree more," Oliver said. "Oh, and dude, next time I'm tanked and decide it's a good idea to steal something, think you could play a little better interference?"

"Hey, don't look at me," Tommy said. "You were a man on a mission. You had your sights set on that yacht, dude. Who did it even belong to again?"

"Richard Nicholson," Oliver spat. "I should have known that prick would press charges."

"Did you know it was his when you tried to take it?"

Oliver shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not really, I guess."

Oliver's phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. It was a message from Laurel.

"Not dealing with this," he muttered, tossing his phone on the table.

"Let me guess, the lovely Laurel?" Tommy drawled.

"She's pissed about the courthouse today. Apparently I am an embarrassment. She knew the clerk in the courtroom or whatever. Who knows, she's always pissed about something."

"You guys have a beautiful relationship," Tommy teased. "You're an inspiration to couples everywhere. So, do you know where you'll be doing your community service?"

"Not yet," Oliver said. "But, wherever it is, it's going to suck."

"Maybe you'll meet some hot community service girl. Finally break off your fucked up thing with Laurel."

Oliver laughed. "Only you, Tommy Merlyn, would take my community service and turn it into a fucking romantic comedy."

"What can I say, I have a vision."

BBBBB

Felicity Smoak hated her job. She hated the endless lines of people with the same computer problems that probably could be solved by five minutes on Google. She hated the condescending way her boss talked to her, and how her one coworker Steve always seemed to touch her when he passed. It was always, hey, Felicity, let me get past you – unnecessary shoulder grab – or, hey, Felicity, let me see what's happening on that screen – "accidental" boob graze. Every day, it took everything in her not to throw her MIT degree in their faces and tell them, I am above this! I am better than a Geek Squad underling! But what good would that do? Impressive education or not, she was still at the bottom with them.

"My computer is running slow," her customer said.

"Did you try turning it on and off?"

"They always say to do that, but it doesn't really do anything, does it?" the woman said.

Felicity swallowed hard and said, "It does actually do something. It resets your computer. See, when you have it on it builds an internal task list. Everything you open goes on that list. So, when you have your computer on for a long time and you're using a lot of programs, that list gets longer and longer and makes your computer run slower. Do you understand?"

"I still don't think turning it off will solve the problem."

"Why don't we just try?"

"Can't you run some test on it? It's running very slow."

"I –" Felicity was cut off by the alarm on her watch. It alerted her to the end of her workday, and while typically she wouldn't skate out in the middle of working with a customer, she couldn't stand another minute in this store.

"You know what, I think you're right. We should run some tests. I'm going to bring this in the back to work on," Felicity said. "You just wait here, and we'll call you on the intercom when we have it sorted out, okay?"

The woman nodded, "Okay. See, I told you it needed more than a restart."

"I appreciate the help there. Now, you go shop. We'll call you. What's your name?"

"Cynthia."

"Alright, Cynthia. Let me just take your computer now."

Felicity picked up the computer and walked into the back workroom. She set the computer down on the table and told her coworker Mindy, "Just turn it off and then back on. Wait about twenty minutes then call a Cynthia on the intercom."

"Twenty minutes to restart a computer? That takes twenty seconds."

"Trust me, you don't want to have the restart conversation with this lady. Just tell her that you ran the tests we talked about and you fixed the problem."

Mindy nodded. "Okay."

"My shift is officially over," Felicity said happily. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you going straight to Hope?" Mindy asked.

Felicity nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Mindy grabbed a plate covered with tinfoil that Felicity hadn't noticed before. "I made these for the kids. They're chocolate chip, so you don't have to worry about any peanut allergies."

"They are going to love these. Thank you, Mindy."

BBBBB

The next morning Oliver received a call from his lawyer detailing where his community service would start. He hated it already.

"You want me to work in an orphanage? Come on, Jim, you've seen me with kids. This'll be a disaster. Aren't those kids messed up enough without throwing me into the mix?"

"You can cry to yourself later," Jim said, not phased by Oliver's diatribe. "I already called and told them that you'd start this afternoon."

"I have work this afternoon," Oliver said.

"No you don't. I already called your father and told him that you are going to have to cut back your hours to start putting a dent in that 500. He agreed. Even said that this might be good for you."

"Of course he did."

"So, they're expecting you in an hour. Try to look nice. Maybe shave that weird neck beard you've been growing."

"I do not have a neck beard."

"Whatever, neck stubble? I had to pull a few strings to get you there, so just try to look presentable, okay?"

"Fine."

BBBBB

Oliver pulled up to what had to be one of the most depressing buildings he'd ever seen. It was all gray bricks, with ill-conceived pops of color that looked more desperate than cheerful, the likely intended result. He walked into the building and quickly made his way toward the main office. He passed a few children who completely ignored him. He liked their style.

"You must be Oliver," a woman in a long flowing dress said. She had a large chunky necklace hanging from her neck and her hair was wound into a bun on the top of her head. Oliver couldn't tell if she looked relaxed or crazy.

"Yeah, that's me."

"So, wonderful to meet you. I'm Prudence. Welcome to Hope orphanage. Please, come in," she said, ushering him into the office. "Jim told me all about you. I think you are going to be a wonderful fit."

"Am I?"
"Oh yes, we have mostly women helping out here. A male figure will be really nice for the young boys here. Someone for them to look up to."

Oliver gaped at her. Did this lady not know how he ended up here in the first place? If she did, she didn't mention it, smoothly continuing, "Now, I know that you come with many special skills, as we all do, but we only had one vacancy here. I'm hoping you're a good planner, because I put you on our programming committee."

Oliver forced a smile, having no idea what a programming committee actually did. But, it sounded innocuous enough.

"Now, don't worry, I'll have your co-chair talk you all through it. She was supposed to be here now, but, oh – here she is now. Felicity, fantastic timing!"

Oliver turned his head and found himself looking at a diminutive blonde in one of the brightest yellow cardigans he'd ever seen. It was almost highlighter yellow.

"Sorry I'm late," Felicity said, sitting next to him. "Traffic was a real you-know-what." She flashed him a grin. "I'm Felicity Smoak. Very nice to meet you."

"Oliver Queen," he said.

"I really like your building," Felicity said. "Not that it's really your building. It's your family's building. Or, maybe not even that depending on who actually owns it.

"We do own it," Olvier said.

"Oh, well, anyway, cool architecture. I really dig the tall spire on the top."

Oliver smirked and said, "I always appreciate people commenting on my spire."

Prudence sounded like she choked on something and said, "Well, now that you two are acquainted my work is done. Felicity, will you take him through what we have planned for the month?"

"Of course," Felicity said. "Come on, I'll show you around while we talk."

He got up and followed her out of the room. She was a fast walker, and he had to consciously quicken his gait to keep up with her.

"So, what we do is plan all the programming for the kids," she began. "It's nothing too flashy. Just activities to help break up their days. It can get a little monotonous for them here if they do the same thing ever day, so we try to give them some variety. We have a bunch of activities set for each day, and then every month we have one larger event. This month's will actually be your first project here."

"Really? I have a project already?"

She smiled and nodded. "We don't waste time here. But, don't worry, it's a total soft ball. As you might be aware, this month is reading month."

"How could I not be aware of reading month? What do you think I am? A heathen?"

Felicity smirked. "The thought never crossed my mind. Anyway, we read a lot to the kids here, but they get sick of our voices. So, we're planning a symposium of reading, where we invite different people from the area to read to the kids. I've already secured a number of names, but we need a handful more."

Oliver shrugged. "Seems easy enough."

Felicity wrinkled her nose and said, "It's also Saturday?"

"Saturday? As in two days from now?"

"We were really understaffed until you came here," Felicity said by way of explanation. "I tapped everyone I could at work, but there are only so many people I can bribe into doing this."

"Bribe?"

"All the good natured people I know already have plans on Saturday."

He laughed, and she told him, "We need maybe three more people, four tops. Think you can handle that?"

"I can definitely handle that," he told her.

"Good," she said with a definitive nod. "So, shall we continue our tour?"

"Yes, please, continue away."

BBBBB

Oliver had every intention of asking people at work to help out with the reading symposium, but then he forgot. A number of minor crises popped up during the day, and then Laurel called asking to go out for dinner. She'd barely talked to him since the debacle, so he couldn't pass that opportunity up. He remembered the symposium briefly before he fell asleep, Laurel's body warm against his, but then he fell asleep and forgot again. It wasn't until an hour before the event, him and Tommy drinking on his couch, that he remembered he was not only supposed to be there, but to bring three or four charitable souls with him.

"Shit," Oliver said, setting his beer on the coffee table. He'd barely gotten halfway through it. Tommy, on the other hand, was already on his third. He started a good hour before Oliver, claiming that a sober Saturday was a wasted Saturday.

"What is it?" Tommy asked.

"I forgot I had community service shit today. Hey, you can read right?"

Tommy turned his beer bottle around so that the label faced him and said, "Well, let's see. Indian pale ale." He looked up from the label. "Yeah, I think I can read."

"Want to entertain some kids this afternoon?"

BBBBB

The symposium was about to start and Oliver was nowhere to be found. Felicity tried not to get herself too worried. She planned most of this event anyway since he only started a few days ago, but there was still the concern of the last three stories having no one to read. Of course, she could always sub herself in, but the kids always listened to her read. This was supposed to be something different and fun for them. They heard her awful voices enough. She let out a breath that she didn't quite realize she was holding when she saw Oliver walk in, a tall brunette behind him. She pulled them back out into the hallways.

"Sorry I'm late," Oliver said. "I lost track of time. Felicity, meet Tommy. He is going to read the pants off of those stories of yours."

"I've never bee more ready for anything in my life," Tommy promised.

His words said one thing, but the alcohol on his breath said another. Felicity stepped back slightly and said, "Um, Tommy, have you been drinking?"

Tommy looked at Oliver, who discretely shook his head.

"Nope," he said immediately. "I have not."

It was clearly a lie, and Felicity felt herself bristle. She always hated liars. She hated drunks, too, memories of her own father's drunken escapades never far from her memory.

"Do you want say that again?" Felicity asked. "I always like being lied to. It really makes me all warm and fuzzy inside."

Tommy stared at her helplessly and went, "Well…"

"I cannot believe you," Felicity hissed, turning her gaze toward Oliver. "I give you one task. One simple task, and this is what you bring me? Your drunk friend?"

"I'm going to go outside," Tommy said in a strained voice. "I think I…yeah, I want to not be here right now."

Tommy left, and it was only Oliver and Felicity. She could hear the reader inside the room nearing the end of Give A Mouse A Cookie. There'd only be one more guest reader before she'd have to make something up.

"Do you realize how irresponsible and reckless that was?" she said. "You brought your drunk friend into a place like this? Don't you realize that some of these kids come from homes with substance abuse? How do you think they would have felt seeing your drunk friend stumble in the room?"

"He would not have stumbled anywhere. He's still at the functional level of drunk."

"That's not the point," Felicity said. "The point is that you put the kids at risk. You put my job at risk –"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have had me get people three days before the event. Ever thought of that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I asked you to find a few people to come and read a book. I didn't know that would be so challenging."

"What's the big deal, anyway? You'll just read a few stories. I can read a few. It's not like these kids were expecting anything really big. I mean, look at where they are."

Felicity's eyes went wide. "Wow. You really just said that. You know, there are very few times in my life where I wish I had a cream pie to throw at someone, but this is one of those times. What is wrong with you?"

"Look, I didn't mean that like –"

"Like, what? Like, the fact that they're in an orphanage means that they should expect less? That they don't deserve every single thing that any other child does?"

"Look, get off your high horse, I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that anything is better than nothing, you know?"

Felicity shook her head in disgust and turned away from him. She spotted Tommy out the back door who was watching the entire exchange. He looked away quickly and pretended to find the pavement exceedingly interesting.

"I think you should go."

"Felicity, I –"

"Go."

Somewhere in the midst of their argument both Give A Mouse A Cookie and the story after it came and went. It was time for the currently unplanned block, and Felicity took a deep breath, vaguely thinking that the show must go on.

"I have to go read some stories now," Felicity told Oliver. "If you come back on Monday, be prepared to actually do your job. I don't have time to do my job and yours."

With that, she walked away from him.

BBBBB

Oliver knew he fucked up. He should have realized that bringing his drunk friend to read to a bunch of children wasn't a good idea, but unfortunately that realization had come too late. He had to make it right, though. For the sake of those remaining 495 hours, if nothing else.

So, he made a few phone calls, signed a few checks and hoped that it was enough to quell whatever wrath Felicity had in store for him. His efforts proved somewhat successful.

"You brought them Barney," Felicity said in disbelief, watching the large purple dinosaur read a story to a group of enraptured three to seven year olds. "You are so going to be their favorite now. And you brought a drunk guy to read to them before."

"If you don't tell them that last part – which I doubt they'd even understand – I'll tell them that you also were in on the Barney surprise."

"I still can't believe you brought them Barney."

"Well, I figured that since I sort of ruined your first reading symposium I could do a second one. It's technically not a symposium since it's just one person doing the reading, but I don't think they mind."

Felicity shook her head. "I don't think they do either."

"I can't confirm or deny what I'm about to tell you," Oliver began, "But, there may be the possibility that we can do this again next month with Mickey Mouse."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Wait, seriously?"

Oliver shrugged. "I know a guy who knows a guy."

"They'd flip," she said in a soft voice. "Think you can get Minnie, too?"

"I can ask."

She nodded, lips pursed together in a cross between a smile and frown.

"So, how many fictional characters do I need to bring here before you're not pissed at me anymore?"

Felicity paused and then said, "Talk to me after Mickey and Minnie."

A/N: Special shout out to anyone who caught the Gilmore Girls references in here!