Oliver woke up to the sun streaming through his window creating a warm feeling in his chest. For the first time in a long time he greeted the day with a genuine smile on his face. Last night with Felicity, it felt good- it felt right. Their conversations were easy, and when they ventured off to the heavier topics his breath was taken away by her wisdom. He'd be lying though if he said he wasn't nervous. Particularly he was nervous that she would find his cooking miserable, but the opposite happened. She ate seconds, even thirds. By the end of the night in their food coma, slightly buzzed by wine state, something was mended. Being near each other isn't awkward anymore. They're probably not going to be exchanging their secrets soon, but they're not tiptoeing around each other any longer.

Progress.

Oliver rolled over and grabbed his phone on his nightstand, scrolling through his various mails and messages. He groggily read through them until he scrolled down to find Felicity had left a text. The sight of her name had him sitting up in a haste.

Felicity: Thanks for having me over. I had loads of fun. Again today? At my place or for coffee?

He smiled. They're taking turns.

Oliver: I would love to get coffee. But you know, you can just ask me if you wanted to hang out. Haha.

He's teasing her. Or is it flirting? Was it too pretentious or cocky? He can't tell which. He was so out of his game.

He added an 'I'm just kidding' at the end of the 'haha' to make sure Felicity understood. A couple minutes he quickly hit send refusing to overthink his reply.

Felicity: I just rolled my eyes so hard I legitimately was scared they would roll out my eye socket.

Oliver snorted.

Oliver: What is it with us that we constantly physically impale each other?

He stared at the screen that was indicating she was already typing.

Felicity: It was an accident, but maybe the next one won't be. Which body part should target next?

Oliver: You're evil. I'm not going to engage in this particular conversation further in fear of my bodily parts. Instead I will just meet you for coffee later today.

Felicity: P.S. Avoiding the conversation doesn't keep you any safer. See you later.

Oliver chuckled at her reply and got up earlier than usual to get ready for the day.

Oliver was speed walking, more like running, to the cafe. He was late, again. But for very good reasons that he can't tell her: he was making an effort to look extra good. Oliver shook his head at the thought. When has he ever like this?

A few more minutes of speed walking, Oliver finally arrived at the cafe spotting Felicity right away. He didn't even have to try. Her blonde hair was illuminated by the sun… and a flash. A flash?

He scoured around him to find some dozers across the street taking pictures of Felicity. They were inevitably going to see him considering he was making his way to her as well. They should probably get out of there sooner rather than later.

Spotting him, she smiled. "You're late."

Oliver made it a point to sit in front of her, the back of his head blocking the view from outside the window where the dozers were angled to take their pictures. He knew how much she despised them.

"Got caught up. Sorry about that."

"It's okay. I haven-"

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?"

"There's some paps across the street that got some shots of you. We should leave soon probably."

"Yeah?" she questioned. She tried to peer behind his shoulders but couldn't catch a sight of them. "Yep just- we'll just grab our drinks and head to my place. It's near here anyways."

They ordered their drinks together, every move designed to keep their faces away from the paps. Though they should be somewhat accustomed to dozers trying to take pictures, they weren't. Not one celebrity was probably used to it. It was different every time. Oliver's anxiety started to spike as he imagined the obscenities they were going to yell at them, the questions…
Felicity's hand landed on his forearm, sensing his panic.

"It's okay. The worst they're going to do is yell at you. I just make it a point to ignore them."

One of his eyebrows rose. "Since when were you so calm about them dozers?"

Felicity scrunched her nose. "I don't know. They still freak me out, but not as much. I've somewhat learned to tune them out. They don't do much if you don't."

"Eliza? Paul?" The barista called out the names, their character's names, they used trying to not cause a blunder.

Oliver grabbed their drinks off the counter and handed Felicity her coffee.

"Careful. Hot."

"Yep. Yup." As they turned around the flashes of bulbs increased ten fold and they were faced with a sea full of paparazzi.

"We should go," Oliver said eyes wide.

Stuck in his place, Felicity maneuvered him through the cafe and out. Right as they opened the door the yelling started.

"FELICITY!"

"OLIVER!"

"ARE YOU TWO A THING?"

"OLIVER YOU'RE OUT AN ABOUT. NO ONE HAS SEEN YOU FOR OVER A YEAR!"

"WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!"

"WHY DON'T YOU TWO SMILE FOR A BIT? AWW C'MON!"

"Felicity! LOOK OVER HERE SWEETHEART!"

The toxic lure of the man's tone caught Oliver's attention. He has to get out of there, rather, he has to get her out of there. Oliver mustered up the strength he could garner inside him and together they led each other across the street where Felicity's driver was waiting. As soon as the door closed the commotion and screaming left alongside it, but the internal struggle remained with Oliver. His body was left a little tense, his breathing shallow, his eyes a million miles away.

"Are you okay Oliver?" Felicity asked worriedly, her eyebrows scrunching forming lines between them.
The concern laced in her voice pulled him back as he shook his head trying to physically remove his mental scuffle. He cleared his voice to try to make his voice more believable. "Yeah I'm fine."

"I get it," she replied solemnly. "But you don't have to wear a mask, you know. Not with me."
He smiled down at her. Suddenly he had the urge to reach out and caress her cheek but he refrained the itch. "It's just that, that back there was the first time since my altercation with that one pap last year. It just brought back bad memories, that's all," he tried to smile.

"Oh." Felicity looked down. That.

"Yeah. It's okay. It wasn't too bad," Oliver tried to smile off. "It wasn't them I was really worried about. It was me. How I would respond, what I'd want to do. If I'd get triggered."

"Did any of those happened?"

"My anxiety shot up. But if you were wondering if any of the 'I want to kick his ass' vibe ticked at me, no. Well-" he paused, "only when that one guy called to you and it was just… not good. I just wanted to get you out of there safely."

Felicity sharply inhaled. "That's— incredibly thoughtful."

Oliver smiled.

"Well, if I'm being honest more than I lead you out there, you lead me out there. If you weren't I might have just frozen up.

But considering those dozers weren't too bad. Not as bad as the one I've encountered. Last year when that whole thing happened, it was just plain bad. I hadn't really been in a good place for about a couple and then some years," Oliver cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. She'd known that he was talking about them severing ties. "Going out every weekend kind of became my thing despite my team, and especially Lyla, telling me that I was going to lose my endorsements and contracts with some few big companies if I kept going at it. But at the time I just… didn't care. I still partied hard. The media capitalized on that. They thrived off it. 'Hollywood hotshot spiraling' is a trope that apparently never gets old, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it didn't amuse me. Anyways, eventually they would find me hopping from one party to another, one bar to another, and I'd always try to evade them. It was my little game of cat and mouse. They wanted me? They could come and get me.

And get me, they did. One night I was just too hammered and my so called 'friends' wanted to hit up another spot. Despite just wanting to stay in that club, I went with them. As we were leaving the club one of the paps were particularly saying explicit things about me, about everyone I've been associated with. I wish I could say I snapped, or maybe I did, but it didn't feel like that. One minute I was walking, the next I bashing his camera on the floor. My friends never helped me and I guess they just left. I was arrested and charged. The next following days every job that was in the works for me suddenly wasn't in the works any longer, and everyone who I thought I could rely on wasn't there for me to lean on.
Except Lyla. She never gave up on me. She had every reason to give up on me, but she didn't. And for that I owe her everything.
A few weeks or months probably passed before one day I sat down and took stock of what was important to me and set a goal to achieve every single one of them to prove to myself that I'm not just some asshole with a face."

"Wow," Felicity puffed her cheeks. "That's heavy."

"I've have some time to let it go. Do I wish it never happened? Yeah. But then again I probably would still be an asshole."

"With a face," Felicity finished.

"That's right. An asshole with a face," Oliver chuckled lightly.

Felicity gingerly placed her hand on his, squeezing it before letting go. A little token to tell him he wasn't alone.

They sat the rest of the ride to Felicity's house in silence.

Oliver doesn't get nervous too often. There had only been a handful of circumstances he would clam up. Him being out of practice while trying to prove something, prove himself, and not being completely confident is not a good combination.

It was the cast's first and only read through of the the whole movie before they started shooting. Being known to arrive late probably was not going to play in his favor so he decided to leave his apartment 30 minutes early. Except he got there a little too early. He opened the door to the conference room and was met with an empty room except for one person. He checked the number outside the door making sure it was the correct room. After verifying it was in fact the right room he found a seat across a dude whose chair turned the other way. He was occupied by his phone that he was currently whispering furious into not even hearing Oliver enter.

He tried to keep busy by looking around the blank white walls, anything other than acknowledging the nervous energy that was burning in the pits of his stomach. He folded his hands in front on him, closed his eyes, and focused on his breaths. He was at his 56th inhale when a voice broke through his counting.

"Oliver Queen?" Oliver slowly peered his eyes open at the sound of his name. "Wow. Hi! Big fan of yours. Barry Allen," the guy, Barry, practically squealed holding his hand out.
Oliver reached out and shook it.

"Likewise. Really big fan as well." Of course, who didn't know of Barry Allen? Arguably he was the present day's Oliver Queen minus all the douchebagary that he used to be, or more precisely acted to be.

"Early birds huh?" Barry acknowledged the empty room.

"Yeah," Oliver chuckled. "I have a reputation of being late. I kind of wanted to change that.
Sorry, not to be rude. But which character are you playing?"

"Oh no offense taken, truly. If I'm being honest I was casted literally about two days ago and I suppose the word hasn't gone out yet. It was back and forth which character I should play or if I should even be part of the cast, but ultimately the producers and the casting director pinned me to play Michael."

"Oh. Eliza's brother?"

"Yep! And by relations kind of like your brother-in-law," Barry laughed.

"They get married?" Oliver cocked his head to the side not recollecting anything about a wedding in the book.

"Well, that's shorter for saying you're my movie sister's boyfriend."

"True," Oliver laughed. "Which other character were they going back and forth on you with?"

"Loring."

"Oh, Loring," Oliver's tone rose the tiniest bit. "If I was being honest, you seem more like Paul."

"Yeah," Barry said sheepishly, bowing his head the smallest bit. "I didn't want to actually say that because then it seems like I want to take your job," he chuckled nervously.

Oliver couldn't help but grin watching Barry so nervous. If only Barry knew how nervous he was at this exact moment.

"Don't worry about it. I actually have thought of the same thing. I was surprised when they asked me to play Paul, well, be in the movie at all."

"I'm sure they have their reasons."

Just then the door opened and various people walked in, coffee and papers in hand. Oliver and Barry stood from their seat as they recognized Steven Sy and Anthony LaBount walk in the room.

"Oliver! Barry! Nice to have you two finally here," Steven smiled. The two men reached their arms out for a handshake, the nervousness apparent in their stature.

Conversations buzzed the room as more people arrived. Oliver and Barry found themselves ease into easy conversations about the industry and previous works they've done. The nervousness that dared paralyze Oliver now simmered into a manageable burn that fueled him to do the best he could in this project.

One of the production assistant started to place name plate on the desk to make it easier knowing which person played which character. Before he could even read the name plate placed next to him, the seat the next to him pulled out and Oliver was hit with the scent of vanilla and strawberry.

"Would you look at that, I'm seated next to you," the blonde chirped as she plopped herself down on the chair.

"Felicity Smoak is late," Oliver gasped mockingly.

"I am not late."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Steven and Anthony arrived before you did. That's considered late for your standards."

"Yes, but technically it's 9:58 which means I'm early for the 10 o'clock call time."

Oliver stared at her, no comebacks coming to his brain. "You're still late," was all he could manage to say. How pathetic, he thought.

"You're early," Felicity bit back. "Which actually- wow. You're early. When has this ever happened?"

"Your shock pains me."

"Just stating the truth," Felicity shrugged.

"I wanted to make a good impression. And if I'm being honest, I'm nervous," Oliver whispered the last bit, bringing his mouth near her ear.

"Don't worry, you'll do great. These things are not too big of a deal."

"Yeah well, I haven't really been in one of these for some time so it is a big deal. For me, anyways."

"Aww, Oliver," Felicity patted his back. "Well you just have to read through your lines. Really, this is more for the execs than us. They want to see which line works and which lines doesn't. You don't have to hit your mark or be aware of which way you have to angle your face and body. You just have to read, you just have to exist."

Oliver smiled in reply, not knowing what to say.

"And don't worry, I'm right here next to you," Felicity said this time patting his hands.

"Thank you, really."

They stayed smiling at each other for a beat until Steven Sy's voice and claps to gather the room interrupted their little exchange.

"Thank you everyone for being here. Well, you have to be here. But nonetheless thank you everyone for showing up. Uhh every one has their scripts, yes?" He scanned around the room as various people held their scripts up, a way to saying 'yes'. "Alright! Well it seems we have our Eliza, Paul, Michael, and Vera played by Felicity, Oliver, Barry, and Iris respectively. Now we're just waiting for our Loring who is played b-"

"Sorry I'm late," a tall husky black haired guy breathed through the door.

"Ah! And our wait for Loring is over. Ray is our Loring," the producer smiled as Ray was melted with a few claps and smiles. "I think your seat over there next to Ms. Smoak."

"Right." He made his way around the room, finding the vacant chair next to Felicity. "Hi," he smiled quickly at her, and Oliver couldn't help but notice Felicity returning a full on smile back.

"Alright, let's start!"

The other exec Anthony served as the narrator throughout the script naming off the cast first and then diving right into the intro of the script. Oliver tried to push away the gnawing jealousy that sparked in him just moments ago, instead he tried to focus on nailing the hell out of his lines.

The table read went seamless, fluid, and time passed. Before he knew it, they were nearing the end of the script and then actually finishing the table read. Ninety eight percent of his attention went to his lines and the other two percent focused on Ray, just his demeanor, his act, the way he read his lines. Oliver must admit that the guy knew what he was doing and was perfectly casted as Loring, which didn't help to his newfound jealousy considering he still doesn't comprehend why he was casted as Paul. He didn't even fit the description of Paul. He couldn't even play a guitar, much less sing.

He shook his head. This was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.
As they all got up to leave, Barry tapped on his shoulders.

"I know why they casted you as Paul."

"Oh?"

"You're obviously great playing the 'in his world' kind of dude and well," Barry leaned to Oliver trying to whisper the next part, "you're chemistry with Felicity? Unprecedented."

"Um. Thanks," Oliver said, coming out more as a question than gratitude.

With that Barry picked up his jacket and winked at him before exiting the room.