A/N: Wow! Thank you guys for all the great feedback! You guys had some great suggestions. Some of them confirmed what I was thinking of doing, some gave me some interesting ideas to incorporate. So I'm going to be super lazy and blanket credit everyone who contributed ideas to this moving forward. I had similar ideas from multiple people, and some from guests, so it's easier for me to make sure I don't inadvertently miss anyone by just saying right now that I am definitely taking those contributions into consideration and will definitely run with them.

This one isn't my favourite of the plans I have, and she's only tipsy in this one, but I needed a slightly filler-ish chapter to put between this one and the next to space it out a bit. Anyways, hopefully you guys still think it's fun!

Chapter 2- Captain Lance

He's just growing anxious enough to call her when the headlights appear at the end of her block. Oliver rises from the steps, his thumb hovering above her contact photo as he waits for confirmation that the car does indeed contain Felicity before he fully aborts the attempt to locate her. He's been sitting on her front porch for a little over twenty minutes, which he realizes is not normally enough time to cause full-scale panic, but she'd told him that Lance only needed her help at the scene for a few minutes. She should have been safely tucked away behind her door before he even thought to knock on it.

The idea of why he would even be knocking on her door this late is one he refuses to consider. They won tonight, a huge win, and yet he still found himself missing something. But that isn't the reason he's here. No. Of course it isn't. Because that would mean he's here for reasons he gave up the right to over a year ago. He pushed her away because it's best for her, and it isn't fair of him to trap her in some game of push and pull whenever his resolve wavers.

So, he tells himself that he's here because he wants to make sure she got home safely. The mission tonight required her proximity to the scene, and she'd insisted on taking her own car. Unfortunately, her argument that parking a huge black van that close to a nightclub was, quote, "an uber-creepy-stalker move" was painfully valid, so he had no choice but to acquiesce. And when Lance wanted her to pop inside to work her magic on the club's server to speed things along? Well, she rightfully reminded Oliver that it was her life, her choice, and stalked across the street even as he ground his teeth together and resisted hitting the nearest stationary object.

He shouldn't have left her there, but he trusts Lance and the club was emptying. What could have gone wrong?

Apparently, something, judging by how long it's taking for her to return home.

His fingers rub together anxiously as the car draws closer, the tension in his body ratcheting up ten notches when he realizes it's an unmarked cop car. What on Earth…?

Oliver's breath catches as the driver's door opens, lighting the interior of the vehicle enough that he can see a blonde head leaning against the window. A sigh of relief makes its way to the surface when he recognizes Lance making his way around to Felicity's door, opening it and hefting the woman to her feet. The cop pauses to say something to her, Oliver can't make out what, but she nods in response before starting toward the door.

Concerned, he closes the distance to the pair, scanning Felicity for injuries. She's limping slightly and leaning heavily on Lance as he supports her up the front walk.

"Felicity? Are you okay?" He asks when he's close enough for her to hear. She only winces as she tests out her foot.

Lance looks up, not quite concealing a grimace at the sight of him. "Queen. Why am I not surprised to see you here."

"Is she okay?" He asks, ignoring the tone he's giving him. Lance's dislike of him is the last thing he's worried about right now.

"It's fine, Oliver. I'm fine," she sighs, halting her steps and blowing fallen strands of hair out of her face. "I just… twisted my ankle a little."

Lance scoffs. "A little? That guy pushed you pretty hard. It's a wonder you didn't break it."

"What guy?" Oliver demands, stepping closer and reaching his hands toward her. They hover uncertainly in midair, not really having much purpose until Lance takes the cue and glances down at Felicity for confirmation. Receiving a nod, he reluctantly shifts her weight over to Oliver.

"Just some guy in the club," she mutters, and he catches a hint of… something that doesn't belong. "He was one of the stragglers trying to get out before the cops could arrest him and he pushed me out of the way. I stumbled, Dete-Captain Lance caught me, and everything worked out!"

When she turns her eyes up to him, pleading with him to just let it go, it clicks. He's seen her eyes like this before, slightly unfocused and glassy.

"Felicity, have you been drinking?" He questions, eyebrows pulling together as he turns his attention to Lance. "Has she been drinking?"

Felicity sighs, exasperated, and her head tilts to the side, landing on his shoulder. He suspects she wasn't aiming for it, but her head stays there, apparently too heavy to pick back up. Lance, for his part, appears sheepish for the first time since arriving.

"It was a long night, alright? And we had to get some ice for her ankle. We were in a bar…"

Lance looks around the empty club, Felicity's foot resting in his lap despite her protests. "You know, when I was younger, my partner and I used to cap off long nights like this one with a drink."

Felicity's head snaps up. "Are you saying you want to drink right now? Because I'm not sure-"

"Relax, Ms. Smoak," he chuckles, allowing his eyes to wander around the room. "I haven't had a drink since… It's been a while. That isn't gonna change because of one long night."

"So you just decided to give her shots?" Oliver snaps. His anxiety before they arrived may be causing him to overreact; he just can't bring himself to care about that right now.

Lance shrugs, but there's an edge of guilt to it. "I didn't have any pain meds for her ankle, and she's an adult. You ever try to stop her doin' somethin' she's got her mind set on?"

Oliver's jaw twitches, remembering his attempts to do just that earlier in the night. The man has a point. If Felicity wanted to drink… Well, nothing would have stopped her.

She winces as Lance lays the ice on her ankle.

"Sorry, kid. I'm tryin' to be gentle."

She shakes her head. "It's not a big deal. I've been through worse."

Lance cringes, clearly not liking her statement. "Yeah, well, if it's all the same, I think I might have a solution for you."

She raises an eyebrow in question and Quentin signals the bartender. The other man approaches, confusion etched on his face until Lance orders a shot.

Felicity's confusion, however, doesn't recede. "I thought you said-"

Lance slides the glass over to her. "It may not be prescription grade, but it outta get the job done all the same."

Felicity grins then, comprehension dawning. She turns to the bartender and orders another one before turning to see Quentin's brows furrowed. "To cap off a long night, I'll take one for you, too. Since you can't for, you know, multiple obvious reasons."

They get to talking, and she doesn't just stop at the first round. When Quentin tries to protest, she shoots him a pointed look and tells him that it's her life, her choice.

"Besides," she says, giggling a bit, "It would be rude of you to let me drink alone," and proceeds to down two more shots.

A snort comes from Felicity before her eyes flick up to Oliver's face and she rolls them. "Oh, put your frowny face away. I'm barely tipsy."

Lance can hardly contain his glee at her reproach, trying to mask it by bringing a hand up to swipe over his mouth. He allows it to linger, stretching his jaw down and finally letting his arm drop back to his side when the smirk is gone. Normally, this would be enough to make Oliver even crankier, but he can't find it in himself to summon the additional irritation as he gazes down at his blonde partner. She could be telling him he's a first rate asshole and he'd still find it adorable if she phrased it like that.

Silence stretches between the three of them, awkward tension thickening by the second. Felicity shifts her weight, her shoulder bumping against Oliver and bringing her body closer to his. Automatically, he wraps his arm more securely around her waist to take more of her weight. The motion curls her further toward his chest and she settles against him willingly, letting out a little sigh of contentment that he's not sure was intentional but makes his heart beat double-time nonetheless. A flash of warmth against the skin of his thumb alerts him to the steady rhythm it's been stroking across her hip without his permission, and he gives himself a mental shake.

"Let's get you inside," he murmurs down to her, not caring as Lance narrows his eyes at the suddenly gentle tone.

Sighing in relief, she nods, her cheek rubbing against his chest with the motion. Oliver's fingers involuntarily flex on her hip as he tries to control himself. He shouldn't be doing this. Any of this. He needs to just get her inside, safely tucked in bed, and head home for the night. Remove the temptation of the way she seems to have forgotten all boundaries of personal space he's drawn between them in the past year and a half.

"Thanks for the ride, Dete-Captain," she says, although it's more of a slur. While she doesn't appear to be anything more than tipsy, it's clear the alcohol is starting to make her sleepy.

Lance nods in her direction. "Thanks for having a couple drinks for me. And for deleting that high school picture off the internet."

"Anytime," she yawns, more into Oliver's chest than actually in Lance's direction. "But no whiskey next time. As much as you Lances seem to love it… I'm not a fan," she finishes around another yawn.

"You take care of her, Queen," Lance warns when he looks up from smiling softly at Felicity, all traces of humour gone.

Oliver nods once. "Always."

He waits until the other man is on the way back to his car before starting the process of getting Felicity inside. By this time, she's become nearly dead weight in his arms, and he wastes no time in sweeping her legs up to carry her.

That gets her attention. "I thought I told you to warn me next time!"

He huffs out a laugh despite the painful recollection of the last time he carried her drunkenly into her house. After that incident, he'd been careful to keep his distance, but he was never very good at restraint, especially when it comes to Felicity.

When he gets her to the bedroom, he sets about checking out her ankle for himself. She and Lance may have been fine with just icing it, but he needs to make sure it isn't more serious than a sprain. Felicity hisses when his fingers probe what he assumes is the tender spot, her foot jerking in his grip. He backs off the pressure immediately, zeroing in on the area to inspect it for anything out of the ordinary.

"Sorry," he mutters, fingers now ghosting over the skin. Satisfied, he looks up to where she's propped against the headboard. "It's just a sprain. Nothing serious."

"I told you it wasn't a big deal," she replies, leveraging her body with her hands to adjust her position. As she does, her ankle twitches and he realizes he's still cupping it in his lap. He takes a moment longer than he should to release it, swallowing thickly.

"I needed to be sure. You shouldn't wear heels out in the field like that."

"I was barely in the field."

"And yet you still managed to get injured."

Silence stretches between the pair, the good humour dissipating, until finally Oliver clears his throat, needing something to keep him occupied lest he blurt out something… inappropriate. Muttering something about getting her some water, he makes a quick escape to the kitchen. He isn't sure which part of him wins out by the time he makes his way back: the part that hopes she's asleep, or the part that desperately wants her to be awake. Despite the lies he told himself, just seeing her is enough to take away the empty ache in his chest. This is what he was missing tonight, even if it shouldn't be.

He perches cautiously on the side of the bed, ensuring a healthy distance between them, and hands her the water along with two Advil he found in one of the cabinets. After she downs the tablets and half the glass, her eyes settle on him, searching for… something.

"Why are you here, Oliver?" She asks tiredly, her head falling back against the headboard.

He isn't sure how to answer that, so he goes for the obvious. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You could have called," she points out.

Shifting uncomfortably, his fingers resume the nervous tick that ceased when he saw her safe and sound in the car earlier. His gaze roams around the room, refusing to focus on one thing for long. A couple of false starts later and he gives up trying to justify his presence. There is no answer that he can in good conscience give her.

"You should get some sleep," he tells her instead, his hand inadvertently landing on her calf and squeezing lightly.

Felicity heaves a sigh, her head lolling to the side in acceptance of his refusal to comment. "I'm not tired."

Her words are contradicted by another yawn and his lips tug upward in a smile. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not," she insists, frowning in a way he wishes weren't so cute. Her expression clears a second later, eyes lighting with an idea he's sure he won't like. "Let's watch a movie!"

Yeah, he doesn't like this idea at all. It's one thing to make sure she's fine and in bed; it's another to stick around and feed his selfish desires. It's not fair of him.

"Oh, stop overthinking it. I want to watch a movie and you're already here," she tells him, rolling her eyes once again and patting the bed next to her. "Besides, you told Lance you'd take care of me. C'mon. I promise I won't bite."

He can't stop the genuine amusement from breaking through the surface. Lance was right; there's no stopping Felicity when she's on a mission.

Sighing, he gives in and slides onto the bed beside her. To compromise, he stays above the covers while she arranges them over her lap, ensuring a foot of space between them. Of course, she promptly ignores his precaution when her head drops onto his shoulder five minutes in to the movie. If he were a better man, he'd put a stop to the physical contact right then and there, but the warmth and weight of her feels… good.

"I lied before…" She mumbles, so quiet he barely catches the words. "When I said I hated you. I could never hate you."

He knows exactly what she's talking about, even if it's been months since then. Unable to let the words hang in the air, he reaches over and squeezes her hand. "I know. I could never hate you either."

When he moves to pull his hand away, her fingers tighten around his, trying to hold on. He lets her.

Somehow, over the course of the film, she ends up sprawled across his chest, snoring lightly. His arm is wrapped around her, cradling her body to his in a way he knows he shouldn't, but it feels so natural that he can't help but indulge. By the time the credits roll, he can feel his eyes growing heavy and has to force himself to wake back up.

With one last glance down at her peaceful features, Oliver shifts himself out of the bed as slowly as possible. He manages to do it without jostling her awake, and counts himself lucky. That is, until he makes to push himself fully off the mattress.

Her tiny fingers close around his with a force he didn't know she possessed.

"Stay," she slurs. He isn't sure when she woke up, or if she's even really aware of her actions, but he knows she'll be the death of him. This woman is impossible to deny.

Letting out a breath, he lets his eyes close before he repositions himself on the bed next to her. He makes a point to remain on top of the covers in a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard. He'll just stay for a little while, he tells himself, eyes drooping, until she's in a deeper sleep.

It shouldn't surprise him that when he opens his eyes again, it's light outside. Felicity is still breathing evenly beside him, her fingers still twined with his, but this time, she doesn't prevent him from detangling them.

After making sure to leave the bottle of aspirin and a new glass of water on the bedside table in case she needs them when she wakes, he slips silently from her house. He doesn't realize her eyes are already open, watching him sneak out like she knew he would.

A/N: Ok, so nothing too earth-shattering happening, but the first version I wrote of this was incredibly depressing and very painful, so I consider this a vast step up from where that one was. The next one up is Roy's, and I do have fun things planned! At least, I think they're fun, and maybe a little more earth-shattering...