A/N: This is in response to several prompts for a married fight. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

John Diggle walked up to the front steps of Felicity and Oliver's townhome, wedging a bottle of wine under is arm as he held the platter of deviled eggs in one hand and checked the time on his watch. He'd been running late at his apartment, getting out of the shower only ten minutes before he was supposed to leave, and then there had been all that traffic on Walnut.

7:05.

He wasn't too late. He raised his free hand to knock on the door, but his hand stilled when he heard raised voices coming from inside the house. While part of him said that eavesdropping was not the most friendly thing to do, his curiosity won out and he leaned in, listening.

"I know that you did this," Felicity said loudly. "It has you written all over it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Oliver returned calmly, although Digg sensed the slight undercurrent of agitation.

"Oh, really? You have no idea what I'm talking about? Because I'm pretty sure you know all about what I'm talking about. You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

"Felicity –"

"You know, I've seen a lot of low things in my life, Oliver. But this? This is the lowest of the low."

"Come on –"

Felicity interrupted him again, railing on about how he was lying to her and she was really sick and tired of it, and Digg edged closer to the door wondering what in the world he was listening in on. Oliver and Felicity seemed to have settled pretty well into their marriage. He'd thought momentarily that the transition would have a few kinks. Marriage came with its own stressors and problems, and while he knew both of them loved each other, sometimes their problem management skills left something to be desired. But everything had seemed to be going smoothly.

"I know you did it," Felicity said. "And I'm only going to ask you one more time, where did you put my Dirty Dancing DVD?!"

Digg laughed out of surprise. They were fighting over a DVD? Here he was, thinking he was overhearing some legitimate marital strife, and instead he was witnessing a silly domestic squabble over an 80's movie.

"I'm not saying that I took it," Oliver returned. "But if I did, can you really blame me?"

"You are unbelievable," Felicity hissed.

"I'm starting to dream about Patrick Swayze. This week alone, I've had three."

"It's not my fault that you have some latent Patrick Swayze attraction."

"I don't have a latent Patrick Swayze attraction," Oliver retorted.

"Really? Because those three dreams say otherwise."

"Those three dreams are because it's been on our television constantly for the past two weeks. Every time I come home, someone's putting Baby in a corner."

"It's my stress movie," Felicity said. "And, in case you don't know this, the past few weeks have been a little stressful. You nearly got killed last week. The job that I actually get paid for has been a bitch. Oh, and yesterday I got linco on my favorite dress, so unless I want to look like a purple spotted cow, I can't wear it anymore. So, yes, I've been watching my stress movie. Because my life is really freaking stressful!"

"I literally hear I've Had The Time of My Life playing in my mind all the time. It's like my life suddenly has a soundtrack that I didn't choose."

Digg could almost hear Felicity huff.

"What if I went and hid your arrows, huh? That's what you do when you're stressed. Go out and arrow things. You wouldn't be too happy about that."

"That is completely different."

"Oh, is it?"

"Are you really comparing watching Dirty Dancing with my being a vigilante?"

Digg snorted. This argument was getting better and better. Felicity was silent for a moment and then said, "Just give me back my damn movie!"

The wine bottle slipped from under Digg's arm and he knocked into the door as he quickly tried to keep it from falling and shattering on the ground.

"Did you hear that?" Felicity said.

"Yeah. It's probably Digg."

"Oh God, I hope he didn't hear all of that," Felicity said. Digg could just imagine her reaching up and anxiously adjusting her glasses.

"I hope he did. I think he'd be on my side."

"Oh, shut up," Felicity said before opening the door. She grinned at Digg and said, "Hi. You haven't been out here long, have you?"

"Long enough," Digg returned with a knowing grin.

Felicity read into his statement and stammered, "Oh, well, you know…married spats. They happen." She glanced back at Oliver. "Especially when your husband start getting into your stuff."

"I have to say, I'm on Felicity's side on this one," Digg said, stepping in. He handed Oliver the platter of deviled eggs. "That's a pretty fantastic movie."

Oliver frowned. "Sure, anything's a pretty fantastic movie until you see it upwards of twenty times."

Digg nodded. "I do see your point."

"We are tabling this conversation," Felicity interjected curtly. She looked at her husband and added, "But this is in no way over, buddy."

All parties stayed true to their word and put the missing-DVD-inquisiton to the side for the night, enjoying Digg's famous deviled eggs and a dinner of baked pasta and salad. They ended the night with chocolate cake. It was Felicity's mother's old recipe, and it tasted just as good as Felicity remembered. They all parted as friends, but Digg knew Felicity was far from letting the battle go.

BBBBB

A few days later Felicity walked into the foundry and saw a paper bag sitting on her desk. Digg and Oliver were out looking into a lead, so it was just Felicity in the foundry. She sat down, picking up the paper bag with interest. It was a slim package, and when she reached in she pulled out a brand new Dirty Dancing dvd. She grinned as she read the card attached to it.

Consider this an additional belated wedding present.

But, for the sake of your marriage, let's keep it to one play per week.

- Digg

A/N: I know it's a bit short, but I loved this idea and didn't want to draw it out too much! Hope you enjoyed!