A/N: Argghh! My muse is slowing down, she always does when I try and write for hours every day. She's a fickle think like that. It's just that I've got this week off and I won't have this much time off until who knows when to just sit and write. I want to get chapters and chapters done, and I did in the beginning, but now, I'm flagging. I'm telling you this as a bit of heads up if the distance between chapters start to widen soon. Don't hate me. I have yet to win $10 million on the lotto so I can quit my job and just write all day. Of course, I don't buy lotto tickets, so that could have something to do with my lack of luck in that area. I'll keep you updated on the $10 million front, let you know when my ship comes in… I recommend against holding your breath… unless you want to hold your breath for your own personal reasons, then by all means, go for it.

Before we progress to the chapters, can I just espouse the wonders of writing to you for a few minutes? No, okay, you go and make yourself a cup of tea and a plate of bikkies while I just talk to myself… bring me back an iced vo vo. So yes, I have to research to write my stories, and indeed, my author's notes. Yes, somewhere out there is a little spam bot who has picked up the words 'bilby porn' on my search engine and trying to work out who to send it to so they can generate some revenue. Good luck with that one, guys. Anyways, in my research, I was looking up about homophones, homilies and the like. I won't bore you with what they are if you don't know (although, frankly, it's pretty interesting) but what I did stumble across in my wanderings was the word 'jigger'.

Jigger is a word which has 28 different meanings. They are as follows, in no particular order: "measuring device", "handcar", "sail", "small weight", "snooker rest", "flea", "prison cell", "boot-sole polisher", "odd-looking person", "distillery", "penis", "cooper's knife", "potter's wheel", "back passage", "lathe", "woman's coat", "sieve", "dancer", "pulley", "door", "thingummy", "golf club", "ouija board", "policeman" and "vagina". How the English language decided that it'd be appropriate to give the same name to a word that means vagina and golf clubs is beyond me. It feels like you're just asking for trouble to me.

Right away, that got me to thinking what a sentence would look like if you used jigger for those words. This is what I came up with. A sentence could be constructed this way…

The door opened and the odd looking policeman walked through. He took off his woman's coat he was wearing and walked over to the pool table, laying down his Cooper's knife on the table and picking up a cue. He laid out the snooker rest on the table and proceeded to take a shot, ripping the felt in the process and knocking balls onto the ground and landing on the foot of a local dancer. An onlooker in the corner shook his head, clutching his golf clubs closer to him. "What a complete and utter penis."

So, all that would become…

The jigger opened and the jigger jigger walked through. He took off his jigger he was wearing and walked over to the pool table, laying down his jigger on the table and picking up a cue. He laid out the jigger on the table and proceeded to take a shot, ripping the felt in the process and knocking balls onto the ground and landing on the foot of a local jigger. An onlooker in the corner clutched his jigger close to him and shook his head. "What a complete and utter jigger."

What's my point I hear you ask… well, I don't really have one. Okay, you're demanding a point because I just made you read all that… let me think… I guess, my point, if I have to make one is that… isn't English interesting? No, you don't think so, my bad.

Guess we'll get back to this chapter which will have less penis in it… actually, off the top of my head I can't remember what this chapter has in it, so I can't really make that penis promise. Wait while I have a quick skim read… I'm back… okay, yes, know what this chapter is… Olicity talking to her mum. You wouldn't think you could write an almost entire chapter about a phone call, but you'd be wrong, particularly in an Aunty Lou story – I'm such a waffler.

And now, I'm going to make myself some dinner. Yes, the thrill ride that is my life never ends. Wahoo.

CHAPTER FOUR

Oliver watched Felicity talking to her mother on the phone, fascinated by the play of emotion crossing over her face.

"No, of course I wasn't avoiding your calls." Felicity paused. "No… I… I… ah, I was going through a tunnel." She pursed her lips. "It was a long tunnel… okay, a very long tunnel."

Oliver watched Felicity carefully as she dealt with her mother. It was kind of endearing seeing how flustered she was getting. It made Oliver want to hug her, but he wasn't sure Felicity would appreciate the gesture right then.

"No, I wasn't hiding anything from you," said Felicity unevenly. "It's just new, that's all. We're not even dating properly. We're trial dating… yes, that's a thing." Felicity's voice got louder. "It is so a thing, ask anyone!" There was another pause. "No… yes… I don't know," said Felicity in agitation. "I don't know… because I don't." She suddenly blushed and lowered her voice, turning away from him. "I couldn't wear a bra with that dress, Mom," she said hotly. "No, I didn't have one that wouldn't show… well obviously I didn't know that was going to show instead… none of it was planned… it was an accident… no, not the whole night, just the nipples part of it…"

Oliver put a hand to his mouth, trying to hide his smile. These two were just too adorable together.

"I'm not talking about this anymore… no, I'm not," Felicity hesitated. "Yes, I'm at work." She blanched. "No, you can't talk to Oliver!" she said fiercely. "Because he's dead, that's why… okay, fine, he's not dead… but he's got a really bad strep throat, can't talk to anyone… probably ever again."

Oliver cocked his head, and arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's a thing," insisted Felicity hotly. "You're not a doctor, you don't know."

Oliver held out his hand. "Let me talk to her."

"No, that wasn't Oliver… it was, umm… it was Bob, the accountant from the twelfth floor… I don't know, Bob's just friendly like that." Felicity waved her hand around, face screwing up as her mother obviously wasn't buying what she was selling. "Fine, fine," snapped Felicity, "here, talk to him." She shoved the phone at Oliver. "You've just been miraculously cured from your affliction, mazel tov."

"Oh good," said Oliver teasingly, "I was really worried there for a moment." He put the phone to his ear, still smiling. "Hello, Ms. Smoak, it's wonderful to finally meet you."

"Please, call me Donna."

Oliver inclined his head. "Donna."

"So, you and my daughter, hmm?"

"Yes," said Oliver huskily. He looked over at Felicity who was staring at him while anxiously gnawing on her thumbnail.

"Trial dating."

"Yes."

"Do you know what that is?"

"It's whatever Felicity needs it to be."

"Good answer," said Donna approvingly.

"Well, it's the truth."

"So, does trial dating including meeting the mother in person?"

"I'd like it to," said Oliver sincerely. He took a chance. "You know, I have a business trip planned to LA the day after next. Las Vegas is just a short plane trip away. Why don't Felicity and I come for a quick visit?"

Felicity's eyes went so large they threatened to swallow her whole face. She shook her head frantically at him.

"That sounds wonderful," said Donna excitedly. "I'm so bored cooped up in this place. I mean, the people are lovely and all, but it's not the same as family."

"That's settled then," said Oliver, ignoring Felicity's horror at even the suggestion of such a thing. She was waving her arms around like she was trying to land a jumbo jet, attempting to signal for Oliver to abort the entire thing. "Felicity's very excited. We both are."

"Oh, I bet she is," said Donna knowingly. "Is my daughter currently flapping around at you like a duck caught in molasses while having a colonoscopy?"

Oliver couldn't help but burst out laughing at that pretty accurate description. "No," he said in amusement, "your daughter looks gorgeous, like she always does."

"But there are shades of molasses and colonoscopy, isn't there?"

Oliver was still smiling as he tried to give a reassuring look to the stricken Felicity. "Maybe just a hint," he conceded.

"Felicity thinks if I know too much about her life I'll interfere," said Donna. She sighed. "She's always been like that."

"Felicity's just had a bit of a trying day today," said Oliver sympathetically. "We didn't really plan on announcing our involvement—"

"With a centerfold spread of my daughter?" offered up Donna dryly. "That's good to know."

Oliver immediately became serious. "Donna, that picture… I didn't know… I'd never have let anyone exploit Felicity like that – you have to know that."

"I know that I really wasn't expecting to open the newspaper, and see my daughter like that," said Donna. "You two looked like you were enjoying yourselves."

Oliver pulled a face. He really didn't know how to answer that one without sounding like a jerk or worse.

Felicity was back to gnawing on her thumbnail, a stressed expression on her face. "What?" she mouthed.

He shook his head at her. "Donna, I can promise you, my intentions towards your daughter are entirely honorable."

"We're looking at the same picture, right?" asked Donna laconically. "Because I know men, and that expression on your face tells a whole different story."

Oliver rubbed the back of his head. "Okay, my honorable intentions were more in the upper ninety percentile at that exact moment," he conceded. There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Seventy percentile?" Oliver offered up weakly. More silence. "Would you buy into the fifties?" He looked up to the ceiling, giving in. "Okay, it was barely double digits due to the fact so little blood was currently circulating through my brain right then," he blurted out with raw honesty.

"There, doesn't it feel better to tell the truth?" said Donna easily.

Felicity was looking at him in horror for his candor, and then she was slapping him hard in the chest with both hands. "It feels a little slappy to be honest," said Oliver, rubbing his chest.

Felicity was earnestly freaking out now. She circled around a couple of times on the spot, seeming to be looking for a place to hide. Felicity eventually settled on crawling under his desk.

Oliver bent over, tilting his head to watch Felicity take up residence under his desk. "Donna, I'm sorry, I may have to go. There seems to be a situation developing here that needs my attention."

"Sugar, no caffeine, just lots of sugar. That usually calms her down."

"Okay, thanks for the advice," said Oliver, still watching Felicity as she hid out under his desk. "And about my intentions thing, I promise you, Donna, they are honorable."

"Just look after my little girl, and we'll talk about it when we meet properly."

"I'm looking forward to it."

That earned him an accusatory look from Felicity.

Oliver mimed the word 'band aid' to her, making a ripping motion with his hand in the air. "We'll call before we get there, okay?"

"That'd be wonderful, Oliver, and thank you for making my daughter answer her phone."

"That was all Felicity," said Oliver quickly. "She wanted to talk to you."

"You're a terrible liar… I like that in my daughter's boyfriends." And then she was hanging up.

Oliver put Felicity's phone on his desk, still smiling. "Okay, you, out from under there."

"No, this is where I live now that you felt like it was a good idea to talk to my mother about our sex life," said Felicity stubbornly.

"We don't have a sex life," said Oliver, the words coming out a little more frustrated than he'd intended. "We have a pre-sex life."

"One that you felt compelled to tell my mom about," exclaimed Felicity in outrage.

"Felicity, I didn't have to tell her anything. She saw the picture."

She buried her hands in her face. "This is a nightmare."

"I don't think it is, but even if it was, it's not something that is going to be solved with you hiding under a desk. That's not a good game plan."

"Why not?" said Felicity petulantly. "I think it's an amazing game plan."

Oliver bent over, hands on his knees as he talked to her. "The desk is made of glass, and it's in a glass room. If you're looking for the hiding factor, that's two strikes against it being a good idea."

Felicity scowled.

"Plus, you're the one worried about public opinion. When I sit down at my desk, your head will practically be in my lap…" Oliver paused, looking suddenly thoughtful. "Actually, can't quite remember where I was going with that. Now that I think about it, I don't see a downside to that at all… ow!"

Felicity had reached out and pinched his leg. "Stop that," she said in annoyance. "Talk like that is what got us into this situation to start with."

"It's not a situation unless we make it into one," said Oliver, remembering Diggle's words to him. "Everything is going to be fine, Felicity, I promise. Please come out from underneath the desk."

Felicity sighed heavily, and there was a long moment where she just stared directly ahead, but then she was reluctantly coming out. Oliver took her hand to help her to her feet. He gave her a winning smile. "See, it's not that bad. The world didn't end."

"Easy for you to say," grumbled Felicity. Oliver went to put his arms around her waist, but Felicity took a quick step back. "I really think we shouldn't be… you know, not here at the office." She sent him an apologetic look. "Don't you think?"

Oliver couldn't even imagine a good reason not to hold Felicity in his arms. Even if both of his arms were broken he'd still want to do that, but he understood her hesitation. "Fine, no overt PDA's while we're at work." He gave her a smile. "As long as you realize that there will be just more of them to catch up on out of hours," said Oliver teasingly.

"As long as there are no photographers around to capture the moment, I'm fine with that," said Felicity unevenly. "Or my mother."

"Crisis passed?" asked Oliver hopefully.

Felicity wrinkled her nose. "I guess. Mom knows, that's as bad as it can get."

"That's the spirit."

"Just, please, Oliver, when you meet her in person, don't talk about, you know, that aspect of our relationship," Felicity pleaded with him.

"I didn't really mean to in the first place," he protested. "There is just something about your mom that makes you want to tell the truth."

"Yes," said Felicity determinedly, "and that can never happen again."

"I feel that's a little harsh. There are some truths we can share." He looked at her. "Right?"

"Just let me do all the talking when we go and see her," Felicity instructed him.

"If that'll make you feel better."

"Deep-fried twinkies will make me feel better, the other is just damage control."

"Who would deep-fry a twinkie?" asked Oliver, mystified.

"You have to batter it first, obviously."

"There is nothing obvious about deep-fried twinkies," said Oliver unevenly. He smiled at her. "But we're okay, aren't we? I mean, assuming neither one of us eats that twinkie thing. Obviously that will kill us outright." He looked at her intently. "Felicity?"

Felicity smoothed down her skirt, and straightened her glasses. "Okay, my time under your desk gave me some clarity—"

"Wow, that desk thing really works for you, doesn't it?"

"When I walked in here this morning I was reading about some poor woman being butchered, and having her eyes torn out of her head." Felicity straightened up. "That really puts this whole thing into perspective. So what if everyone knows about us? So what if my mom knows about us?" Her voice wavered slightly over that last one. "In the grand scheme of things, that is nothing… less than nothing even."

Oliver smiled, very relieved to hear Felicity say that.

Her expression took on an element of fierceness. "But just so you know, mister, if you screw me over with changing your mind about us now that we're public…" Felicity jabbed his chest hard, "then those five years on the island will seem like summer camp."

For some reason, Oliver found her threats endearing. "You don't have a mean bone in your body, Felicity. It's not in you to torture someone, at least not intentionally." He took her hands again. "But it's a moot point anyways because I'm not going to change my mind. No matter what happens going forward, I know I want us to face it together. There really isn't an option in my mind any more. You don't have to worry about me changing my mind, Felicity. That's why I'm going along with this trial dating thing… to prove to you that I know what I want, and I'm prepared to do what it takes to have it." Oliver gave a small smile. "To be the kind of man worthy to be with a woman like you."

Felicity drew in an unsteady breath, looking a little overwhelmed. "You're so good at that."

"It's just the truth, Felicity. That's something you and your mother have in common… you tend to make me want to tell the truth."

"Which we both agree is a bad thing when it comes to my mom."

"Did we agree on that?"

"Yes, we absolutely did."

"I must have blacked out when that happened."

"It happens to the best of us," said Felicity straight-faced.

The corners of Oliver's eyes crinkled as he gave her a warm smile. "Just a heads up, I'm going to break our 'no office PDA' rule because you're too adorable right now not to kiss." He didn't give Felicity a chance to argue, simply bending his head, and finding her lips with his own. Oliver savored their kiss, lingering over having the sweet taste of her in his mouth once more.

"You get one," murmured Felicity against his lips, holding his gaze lovingly.

"Then I'd better make it count," Oliver whispered back, deepening the kiss, fingers sliding into her pony-tailed hair. It was a long moment before Oliver found the strength to end their kiss. He drew in a ragged breath, resting his forehead against Felicity. "You'll see, everything is going to be fine, Felicity. The worst of it is over. Going forward… us… it's going to be smooth sailing." Felicity gave a little shudder in his arms, and Oliver drew back, a concerned look on his face. "What's wrong?"

A small frown marked her brow. "It-it's nothing. I just… I don't know, I guess someone just walked over my grave or something." Felicity shook her head, and then smiled determinedly up at him. "It was nothing."

Oliver's arms instinctively tightened around Felicity at just the mention of her grave, even a figurative one. He cupped her face, a reassuring smile on his lips. "We're going to be happy, Felicity," he vowed to her. "You and me… it's going to be amazing… it is amazing."

Felicity relaxed in his arms, face still flushed from his kisses. "Yes, it is," she said happily, and then rested her head on his chest. "But you still don't get to talk when we meet my mom."

Oliver bent his head, and breathed in deeply that intoxicating scent of hers, pretty much ready to agree to anything if he could just keep on holding her in his arms for a few seconds longer.

#

"Freshen you up, hon?"

The dark haired man started, not having noticed the waitress who'd come up beside him. He looked up at her as she looked down at him expectantly, jug of coffee in one hand. "Ah, yes, that'd be great, thanks…" He peered at her name tag, eyes squinting behind his glasses. "Eleanor."

Eleanor leant over him, pouring him another cup of coffee. As she did, she noticed what had been holding his attention so completely. "Some girls have all the luck, huh?"

The man followed her gaze to the large photo of the blonde woman being thoroughly kissed by renowned playboy, Oliver Queen. "Yeah, I guess they do," he said slowly.

"It's not going to last," Eleanor confidently predicted, "but who wouldn't ride that gravy train as far as it will go, right? I mean, that Oliver Queen, he's nothing but sex on a stick. I wouldn't kick him out of my bed." She peered closer at the magazine article. "In fact, I wouldn't kick her out of bed either. That's one hot picture." Eleanor eyed him and the suitcase on the seat beside him curiously. "You staying long in Gotham, hon?"

"I was hoping to, but things haven't panned out exactly how I hoped."

"So, you're leaving our fair city, huh?"

He gave a short nod of his head.

"Where to next?"

The man's gaze drifted back to the photo. "I hear Starling City is nice this time of year."

"Well, you know what they say, when one door closes, another opens," said Eleanor philosophically. "Maybe your luck will change in Starling." She smiled and inclined her head towards the picture. "Like hers did."

"Maybe," said the man softly, gaze drifting back to the photo, losing himself in his thoughts.

A/N: And another thread to this mystery is added. There about three of them – the murder, Olicity getting through their dates, this mystery guy, and the Briggle fun. I'm attempting weave them altogether into a (hopefully) coherent story that overlap one another. Therein lies the plan, anyways! It takes us a while to get to the actual meeting of Olicity and Donna, but we'll get there. I get sidetracked as always, laying down all the other things which are going on simultaneously. This is kind of an ambitious fic to be honest, and that's before you factor in I'm peppering in stuff for the fic after this one!

Probably bit off more than I can chew to be honest, particularly when I go back to work next week. There has been a big staff turnover and I have to cover a lot of shifts while recruiting and then training more staff. Oh joy. 2015 is already exhausting me and it hasn't even started professionally for me! Long story short, I may not be able to keep the pace up on this fic soon… but I guess we'll see. In the meantime, I'll see you in a day's time for the next installment. Get it while it's going. ;)