Title: Six Minutes
Part: Six Minutes
Word Count: 1892

Notes: For those of you who are new to this idea, this started as a fic prompt from Tumblr, made by the lovely bri617. I posted it as chapter 3 of Questionable first, but I feel like this belongs here, too, in context. So it's an exact duplicate, if you've already read either of those.

However, like everything I touch, it has spiraled out of control and into madness. My Tumblr is now covered in confusing "ace!felicity" posts, so I decided they should go here. Some have been on Tumblr, some haven't, but here's to making sense of it all.

Thanks in advance for reading and being awesome. Should you choose to leave kudos and/or comments, I appreciate it. :)

"Hi, I'm Oliver."

"I know who you are. Your face has been on tabloids for ages—I haven't been living under a rock. No offense, but this isn't your scene, is it?"

"I had no choice in the matter."

"Hey, me, too. Oh, yeah—I'm Felicity."

"Nice to meet you, Felicity."

"Oh, a handshake. That's… different."

"Apparently I'm out of practice."

"No, I like it. It establishes us as equals. It's definitely the nicest greeting I've gotten tonight. One guy tried to hug me. I mean, I'm a hugger, but I like to actually know someone for more than thirty seconds first."

"…Have a seat."

"Wow, pulling the chair out for me? That's a nice touch. They say chivalry is dead."

"Despite common belief, my mother did raise me to have proper etiquette."

"…Thanks."

"Everyone has five minutes! …Begin!"

"Ladies first?"

"Because you're the first guy to offer all night, you can ask the first question."

"Alright. What do you do for a living?"

"Tech. I'm in IT. Do you like puppies?"

"Uh, sure. Why? Do you have one?"

"Landlord won't let me have anything bigger than a rabbit, sadly. But it's a good indicator of a person's character. I just don't think anyone who likes puppies can be bad—at least not through and through."

"If I had said 'no,' then…"

"I would have stood up and walked away. Even hardened criminals love puppies, Oliver."

"Oh."

"Who signed you up for this? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"My sister Thea. She thinks I'm 'moping around the house' and need to get out more."

"Ah, she has you wrapped around her little finger. Got it. Mine's better: my mother. She's that pushy."

"Wow."

"Yeah. She's a modern woman—which I love about her. Except she thinks sex is the answer to all my problems. Which it isn't. This is her subtle reminder that she wants grandchildren soon. Preferably in the next nine months."

"That's…"

"Yeah. That's just my mom. But if we start talking about her, we'll be here all night. Your question."

"…Um, hobbies?"

"Computers. I mean, I build them at night while watching Netflix. …That's a little pathetic, isn't it? I play a little Warcraft from time to time, and— Oh, God, I'm making it worse. Let's just say I'm a Doctor Who fan and leave it there."

"I have no idea what that is."

"I'm sorry about your very bland life. What's your favorite kind of ice cream?"

"Um… anything with chocolate?"

"A vague answer. But it's chocolate nonetheless, so I approve."

"…Thanks. Since you're asking questions that aren't exactly first-date material, how do you feel about archery?"

"As long as you're not the guy putting arrows in criminals and delivering them to the cops, I don't care. Everyone needs a hobby."

"…"

"I'm kidding. I happen to think that guy is doing a lot of good in the city. He saved my roommate from getting mugged last week. Favorite book?"

"…Would you believe me if I said Hamlet?"

"Of course. But Hamlet is technically a play, not a book."

"The Odyssey."

"You're on shaky ground, Oliver, but I'll allow it."

"You?"

"Favorite book is a tier, not a single literary work. We don't have that kind of time. What are your opinions on guinea pigs?"

"I'm not sure I have any. Why?"

"I have a guinea pig named George. He whistles at me after I get dressed in the morning, but that might be because she knows I'm going bring food with me. Usually I don't appreciate unsolicited opinions about what I wear, but he's very supportive about my wardrobe choices. She even whistles at my yoga pants."

"You just called it both 'he' and 'she' interchangeably."

"Pfft. George does not adhere to a binary gender system, Oliver."

"…She sounds like he'd be an interesting guinea pig, then. What—?"

"Why are your lips twitching? Are you laughing at me?"

"My turn to ask a question, remember? If you did have a dog, what would you name it?"

"Mildred. Mildred the Komondor. She would strike fear into the hearts of mops everywhere."

"…Are you making fun of me?"

"Ah ah ah, Oliver. My turn, remember? Why were you laughing at me?"

"Because you're charming and different. Your first question was if I liked puppies and you have a genderfluid guinea pig named George who approves your wardrobe choices."

"..Well, I suppose it does sound a little strange when you say it like that."

"Now, were you making fun of me?"

"Maybe a little. I'd get a Newfoundland and name it Grima, after the Fell Dragon. Maybe a Great Pyrenees, too—and name it after the Divine Dragon, Naga."

"…What?"

"I'll introduce you to video games later. When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"A pirate. You?"

"I can almost picture you as the scourge of the seven seas. I wanted to be a ninja."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"It's your turn, Felicity."

"Oh, right. Um… How do you feel about gay roommates?"

"Are you asking about the gay part or the roommate part?"

"Hmm… that's fair. I'll allow it. Individually and as a whole."

"That's a vague answer."

"I don't offer any other kind, Oliver."

"…I don't understand what there is to have an opinion about. People should be able to love whomever they want. I've never had a roommate before, so I don't really know about that. …Unless you mean that in a different way."

"No, no! I mean, I'm not opposed to polyamorous relationships, but I'd make that clear from the beginning. My roommate, Curtis, is gay. Some guys I've dated before have had problems with it. Not that we're dating or anything. I don't mean to presume anything, but—"

"Felicity, this is a speed date. Dating is kind of in the name."

"Yeah, but neither of us want to be here and we're just trying to commiserate, so it doesn't count."

"Either way, we're exchanging phone numbers after this. You're the only good conversation I've had all night."

"Agreed. Anyway, it's a question I start asking on the first date because this one guy got insanely jealous because I'm living with a guy—despite the fact that he, by definition, has no interest in me."

"Sounds like he had problems."

"Story of my life. But enough about past mistakes. Your question."

"This might sound like a line, but it's a serious question."

"Shoot."

"How are you still single?"

"You're right; it does sound like a line."

"Felicity."

"Ugh, fine. I get to ask you a hard question after this, though."

"How is that a hard question?"

"…I'm asexual."

"…I don't really know what that is."

"No one ever does. I'm not sexually attracted to anyone. …Which is kind of challenging because I want a romantic relationship. I just don't want the sex part. And the guys I tend to date typically are interested in the sex part."

"That's a really personal fact to share with someone you met a few moments ago. Thank you."

"When you measure how well we know each other in minutes, it's minuscule, but when you measure it by connection, it's infinite."

"That's very… deep of you, Felicity."

"Don't laugh at me, Oliver. I'm a complex person. I'm allowed to be deep."

"It's just… people don't usually talk like that, Felicity."

"I can't help it if people aren't interesting. Now for the hard question: What is your biggest aspiration?"

"…Well, I… I guess I want to make a difference, to stop this city from being preyed upon by people like me. I… I guess I want to do something meaningful, to make even the Glades a better place to live. I mean, I'm already here. The least I can do is something worthwhile, whether the history books remember or not."

"…"

"I know, it's stupid."

"No, not at all! It's just… wow."

"…You're, um…"

"My eyes are leaking. Just a little. That was beautiful, by the way. Very inspiring. I would have said something like 'to move out of IT' or 'to own a tech company one day,' and now I'm just a little… overwhelmed. Oliver Queen, gentle idealist."

"…I've never shared that with anyone before."

"You should. It's passionate. It might help everyone remember you're not the same guy you were five years ago. I didn't even know you then, and I can see that."

"Thanks. That means a lot, Felicity."

"You mean coming from a random stranger?"

"You're not a random stranger. If you measure how well we know each other by minutes, it's minuscule, but when when you measure it by connection, it's infinite."

"People don't talk like that, Oliver."

"I can't help it if people aren't interesting, Felicity."

"Oh, wow. You should smile like that more often. It's a nice smile. I kind of want to take a picture of you smiling and hang it on my wall to appreciate for all eternity."

"People don't talk like that, either."

"It's complicated for me to explain attraction. …Legend has it that allosexuals—people who experience sexual attraction—sometimes equate aesthetic attraction and sexual desire."

"As an allosexual myself, I can confirm that."

"…"

"What?"

"Your eyes. They, um, they just turned really dark. …Anyway. Your question."

"What would you say if I told you that—?"

"Excuse me, Mr. Queen? Ms. Smoak?"

"Yes?"

"Your five minutes ended about a minute ago."

"Oh, it's my fault, Ms. Cutter. I sort of distracted him with a hardball question."

"It's just time to move on to the next table, Ms. Smoak."

"Better idea: Oliver, do you want to ditch this petty attempt at dating—no offense, Ms. Cutter, but it's not my speed—and go get some anything-with-chocolate ice cream?"

"…"

"…What?"

"I've never been asked on a date before."

"Screw gender norms, Oliver. Do you want ice cream with me or do you want to do another five-minute date with a stranger?"

"Ask me a hard question."

"I'm sure I will at some point. But I think that requires ice cream first."

"Thank you for hosting such a lovely event, Ms. Cutter, but I think Felicity and I will be leaving now."

"But—"

"Wow, she wasn't happy we left."

"I think she's been using me to convince women to sign up. There's an ice cream parlor right around the corner, if you…"

"Yes. Absolutely. I want very much. Both to talk to you and to eat ice cream. But we're going dutch. I don't want your money. Donate it to the ASPCA so they don't have to do those sad commercials with Sarah McLachlan songs."

"That sounds like a deal. …Now, Felicity… I have a hard question."

"Okay… Are you sure you want to ask before ice cream?"

"Yeah."

"Fire away."

"Hypothetically, what would you say if I told you I was the Arrow?"

"…"

"…"

"…Just to clarify, is this a serious question?"

"Very."

"I'd probably hug you so tight you couldn't breathe for doing such a good job in the city and then ask if you needed any technical support."

"…I'm the Arrow."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"You weren't kidding about that hug, were you?"

"Not your turn, Oliver. My next question: do you need any technical support?"

"From you? Any day."