(A/N: I tried really hard to stay within the hour limit this time, so it just kind of ends a little abruptly.)
FF#3: Too Far, Too Fast
"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to do," Oliver said.
"Oh, I totally understand," Felicity replied. "You want to do something special for my birthday, but you've never done a birthday on a budget, and you're struggling because in your world, special means expensive."
He stared at her. "Well, that's . . . accurate. In an unsettling kind of way."
"Unsettling?" Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Do I scare you?"
"Absolutely."
"You already know that I will destroy you if you dare to throw me a surprise party," Felicity said.
"You did mention that. Repeatedly."
"I've seen the kind of parties you throw. Expensive ones. And either nobody shows up, or everyone comes who really shouldn't all be in the same room together." She slowly spun in her chair. "To me, special is just something I don't do every day. So basically that means anything besides falling asleep in front of my TV and eating take-out while watching you do pull-ups. Not that I do that."
Oliver arched an eyebrow, smiling.
"Okay, I do that sometimes. But I have to look at something while I eat, and you're always right there." Her cheeks were getting pinker by the minute. "My point is that it doesn't have to be a big production. In fact, I'd rather it wasn't. Can't you follow Dig's example? He didn't make a fuss."
"He gave you cupcakes," Oliver said. "And a book. Wrapped in newspaper. Two days early."
"It was an amazing book. It's out of print. And those cupcakes? They were little bites of heaven." Her chair came to a stop, and she leaned back and crossed her legs. "Even if they weren't, that still would have made me feel special without embarrassing me."
"What about that vineyard you mentioned the other day? They do wine tastings." He tried for a casual tone, one that wouldn't betray how much time he'd spent thinking about Felicity's birthday, how many lists he'd made and then crumpled up, how often he'd covertly consulted Diggle.
"That place is closer to Coast City than it is to here," Felicity pointed out. "I don't want to be too far out of town when Diggle Junior could arrive at any time."
"Fine, then let me take you to dinner at Table Salt."
"And we're back where we started," Felicity said with a sigh.
"It's not that extravagant," Oliver said.
"Have you seen their reviews on Yelp? Table Salt is Starling City's trendiest proposal spot. That's moving a little too fast, don't you think?"
Of course it was too fast. It was a date disguised as a birthday present. It was a chance, the first chance he'd had in weeks, to convince her that the idea of them together wasn't unthinkable at all.
"Oliver? I was kidding."
He blinked, looking over at her. She was fiddling with her earring, but her eyes found his and held them.
"It was a joke," Felicity continued. "A bad one, I admit. Let's just forget I said it."
"If you think everyone will be staring at us, waiting for me to pull out a ring, then we can go somewhere else," Oliver said. "But we're going to do something, you and me. I'm not letting your birthday pass by uncelebrated just because we couldn't agree on what to do."
Two days later, Oliver called to cancel the reservations he'd made at a Greek restaurant that had ocean-side seating. Some other diner would get the chocolate cake he'd specially requested, and his gift, a thin silver chain with an arrow pendant, stayed in his pocket. Instead, he'd bought Felicity a chocolate doughnut from the hospital cafeteria. She pretended to blow out a non-existent candle and then ate the doughnut in about three bites because she hadn't eaten in hours.
Diggle Junior finally graced the world with her (her—it was a surprise to everyone) presence just minutes shy of midnight. Felicity said that the baby being born on her birthday was the only present she needed, but Oliver didn't believe that for a minute. When he dropped her off at home afterward, it was quick work to slip the box with the necklace onto the table just inside the door when her back was turned. Once he'd left it, he didn't linger, just called out his goodbyes and hopped down the steps two at a time, humming.
Later, stretched out on the bargain-find couch in his new (and tiny) apartment, Oliver listened to the message she'd left while he was on the road. Her voice was teary.
"How dare you, Oliver," said Felicity. "That was sneaky and sweet and you really should have stuck around long enough for me to thank you. You suck and I love you . . . I mean . . . Oh, you know what I mean. Platonic. That's a weird word. What does Plato have to do with it? Anyway, how dare you . . . and thank you."
Oliver dubbed it the How Dare You message and listened to it five more times that night, making sure to save it. Platonically.