Maria was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee when they clattered in, laden down with shopping bags.
"Mana mou." Felicity heaved the bags up onto the long table. "This is my friend Oliver."
Oliver put his bags down as well. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." He walked over to her and holding out his hand.
Maria rose, taking it in both of hers and holding on to it while she gave him an appraising look, finally nodding her approval. "Yes. This is a good one."
Felicity narrowed her eyes, sensing that Maria was gearing up to play matchmaker again. "How can you tell just by looking at him?" she challenged her.
"It's in his eyes," she explained. "He's in love with you." She let his hand go. "And only a love-sick fool would do that," she added, pointing at the floor behind Felicity.
She turned around, and gasped. Ranged against the back wall were every bucket and plastic tub in the place, every one of them filled with flowers. Bunches of daisies, day lilies, delphiniums, carnations and sunflowers, as well as several she couldn't name, mingled in a cacophony of colors. There had to be enough flowers for every table in the restaurant, the bar, and every room of her house. It explained the grinning kid with the donkey they had passed on the road back to the taverna. She had assumed he had been delivering something to Maria.
"Oh, Oliver..." She turned back to find him shifting on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly. She couldn't be sure, but his cheeks might have been a little pink too. For a moment he looked like a teenage boy picking up his very first date.
"Thank you," she whispered, and saw the teenage boy replaced by the confident billionaire ex-playboy who had bought her a donkey-full of flowers.
"That's enough making the eyes at each other," Maria broke in, setting two mugs of Greek cappuccino on the kitchen table. "Sit. I made loukoumades and bougatsa." She placed the plate of pastries next to the mugs along with two napkins. "Eat. I need both of you to help me in the kitchen today, and then you need to find a place for all those flowers."
Felicity sat down at the end of the table. "I love loukoumades," she said reverently, picking up one of the golden, deep-fried balls of honey-drenched goodness and taking a bite.
"Great," she heard Oliver mutter under his breath as he sat down to her right. "She picks the one which will make for the stickiest fingers."
She looked at him questioningly and popped the last of the pastry into her mouth. She was about to lick her fingers when Oliver's hand shot out, catching her wrist.
"No," he said darkly. "No. Absolutely not. Use a napkin."
"What? No!" she protested, trying to pull her wrist out of his iron grip and wondering what the hell his problem was. "It's honey. It won't come off on a napkin. Besides licking the honey and cinnamon off your fingers is the best part!"
She slowly licked her lips. "Mmmm," she hummed cheekily, waving her sticky fingers temptingly at him.
He threw a quick look Maria's way. She was busy at one of the counters, doing something unpleasant to the squid Felicity had bought, her back to them. He drew her hand toward him and deliberately and sensuously sucked the honey off her finger and thumb before releasing her wrist.
Felicity was pretty sure her entire body was blushed. Surprised, all she could do was stare at him in shock, her mouth hanging open and her hand poised in mid air, exactly where he had left it. There was something incredibly arousing about being turned on against her will in what was essentially a public setting. Maria may have had her back to them, but she was standing right there.
Oliver darted another look at Maria's back before leaning toward her with a smug look on his face. "From now on, every time you do that, I will repay you in kind," he whispered with quiet menace. "Whether there are other people in the room or not."
Felicity was very glad she was sitting down. If she hadn't been, she'd probably be in a heap on the floor by now, her legs having given out under her. And that was only a slight exaggeration.
They ate their breakfast in silence, their eyes doing all the talking. That they managed to share threats, affection, and even basic questions and answers with just their eyes spoke of how attuned to each other they had become over the years they had worked together.
All too soon it was time to get cracking and help Maria with lunch preparations.
She had finished cutting up the squid, and had it soaking in buttermilk in the fridge. She had Felicity mix the flour and spices for later - the calamari would be fried up as they were ordered, ensuring the best taste and crispness - and gave Oliver the task of cutting the stems carefully out of the small red peppers so they could be stuffed with herbed goat cheese.
They worked side by side, elbows - and occasionally hips - bumping. Oliver was still slowly working on de-stemming and de-seeding the peppers, and Felicity had finished the dredging flour for the calamari, had mixed the room temperature goat cheese with fresh herbs and was stuffing the peppers faster than he could clean them, tucking them upright in a shallow baking dish for later roasting. It didn't help their progress that Oliver was frequently pausing in his task to stare at her as she waited for each pepper, facing him with her hip propped against the counter.
She was about to hurry him along when Maria appeared behind him.
"Stop making eyes at my daughter, agóri mou," she said sternly, smacking him smartly on the backside with a large wooden spoon and making him jump. "You're falling behind. Save the mooning for later." On that note, she put the spoon down, picked up a basket of silverware and left the kitchen.
Felicity snorted, looking back at Oliver to find him frozen, a paring knife in one hand and a dainty pepper in the other, his mouth hanging open. "Did she...did she just spank me with a wooden spoon?" he stuttered, giving her a wide-eyed incredulous look.
"Welcome to Maria," Felicity bit back her laughter. "It means you're part of the family. You should be honored, that was pretty quick."
"But I'm..." He stopped, apparently rendered speechless.
"But you're a big, bad, scary vigilante?" she continued for him, lowering her voice and darting a look toward the door. "She doesn't know that, and even if she did, I don't think it would matter. You could be all arrowed up and heavily armed, and she'd still smack your butt if you dawdled. Get used to it. She takes her cooking very seriously."
"I'm scared," he said, and she could tell he was only half joking. "What does 'agori moo' mean, anyway?"
"It means 'my boy'." She turned her face away from him so he wouldn't see the grin splitting her face in half. The thought of tiny Maria putting a little of the fear of God into six-foot-plus, scary, frequently lethal - at least in the past - Bratva Captain Oliver Queen, was too much to keep a straight face over.
The first customers were arriving just as they were finishing up with the flowers. They had used Maria's whole stash of jam jars to make up arrangements for the tables, and several wine jugs for the rest. There were enough of both for Felicity to have bunches of flowers for every room of her house, even the bathrooms.
"I can't believe you did this," Felicity took two jars of flowers from the tray Oliver was carrying for her and placed them on two of the tables. "I've never gotten this many flowers at once before."
This time, when Oliver smiled his patented enigmatic smile, it wasn't enigmatic anymore.
When they were done with the flowers, they had a light lunch of mezes on the taverna patio with the other diners, sampling tirokafteri - made by Felicity herself - crispy calamari and the stuffed peppers still warm from the oven, drizzled with olive oil and a balsamic vinegar reduction.
They were lingering over coffee when Felicity decided to play a little Russian roulette. She asked Chrysoula to bring her a small plate of loukoumades, throwing Oliver a challenging look as she did. His face remained carefully expressionless but he leaned back, hooking his elbow over the back of the chair. Challenge accepted, apparently.
She ate her dessert, slowly and thoroughly licking her fingers after each one, humming, at times with exaggerated lustfulness, her eyes on Oliver's the whole time. Though his face remained impassive during her display, the icy-hot intensity in is eyes slowly grew, reaching dangerously predatory levels when she added insult to injury by swiping her finger through the syrup that had collected on the plate. He was preternaturally still, the only muscle visibly moving was the one ticking in his jaw.
"Let's go for a walk," he said conversationally when there wasn't a drop of syrup left on the plate.
Her heart leaped in excitement as she stood, following him out of the taverna and wondering what he had planned for her.
It turned out the answer was nothing. Apparently he had nothing planned for her. They walked down the beach in companionable silence, their fingers occasionally brushing, but that was all. Felicity was quivering in anticipation, expecting at any moment to be pushed down into the sand behind this rock or that and ravished, but they just kept wandering until the beach ended and they had to turn around. By the time they were nearing the taverna again, she was so tightly wound she thought she would shatter if he so much as touched her.
"Felicity?"
Finally! She almost screamed. "Yes, Oliver?" She turned to face him.
"Can I move in with you?"
Her impressive brain, which never did this around anyone but him, froze. When he waved a hand in front of her face, she realized she was just staring at him and hadn't said anything yet. "What?" she asked stupidly. The transition from waiting for him to ravage her - or something - to having a serious conversation, gave her whiplash.
"Can I move in with you?" he repeated.
Her brain kicked into gear again. "I thought you already had."
"No..." He shook his head and looked out over the ocean. "God, why am I so bad at this?"
"Not enough practice?"
He laughed, looking back at her. "None whatsoever, actually. What I meant to say was I've decided to stay here, as in move here, and I'm asking you if I can live with you, or if I should get my own place."
Oh, she mouthed silently. "You...do you want to live with me?" she asked, suddenly insecure and hesitant.
He gave her a look. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."
"Right. Of course."
It wasn't like his request was unexpected, but now that the moment was upon her it was...monumental. Daunting. Downright scary, actually.
"Felicity?" he prompted her. "My ego is starting to take a hit over here."
"Mmmm?" Lost in her thoughts, it took her a while to realize he was waiting for an answer. "Oh! Yes, of course! Of course you can move in with me, Oliver."
They stared at each other, speechless, smiles growing on their faces. "Holy shit," he said unsteadily, grinning. "We're moving in together. Why am I not more freaked out about this?"
"Because when it's right, it's right?"
"That must be it." He reached for her and reeled her in. "That must be it," he repeated softly. He dipped his head to kiss her, but pulled back just before their lips met. "Have I told you I love you yet?" he asked, frowning down at her.
She played along. "Ummm...let me think," she mused, looking up into the air. "No, I don't believe you have." Her eyes dropped back to his.
He just looked at her for a beat, a ghost of a smile teasing the corners of his lips. "I will," he whispered, as his mouth closed in on hers again.
Lunch was winding down when they returned to the taverna, sneaking past the kitchen so that they wouldn't get roped in to help with dishes or something.
Just as Felicity was about to start up the stairs, Oliver's hands fell roughly on her hips, guiding her quickly into the alcove beside the stairs. Before she knew what was going on, her back was against the wall and he was pulling her dress up and slipping his hand into the waistband of her panties to cup her cheek.
"Oliver!" she whispered harshly, clawing at his arm in an attempt to get his hand out of her pants. "What the hell are you doing? Somebody could come back here at any moment! There's a storage closet right there!"
"You should have thought of that before eating those honey balls the way you did," he hissed against her mouth, trapping her wrists in one hand, pinning them against her chest, and her against the wall.
"First of all, they're called 'loukoumades'," she hissed back, "and secondly oh my god," she moaned, writhing against the wall as he attacked her neck.
"Not so loud." His voice was low, smug. "You're going to attract attention."
"Then stop...oh god...please..."
He smirked. "I warned you, Felicity," he murmured darkly, his breath hot on the tender skin of her throat. "You only have yourself to blame."
She as about beg some more, when the thing she was most afraid of happened. "Allie?" Maria's voice called out from the kitchen.
"Oliver!" she croaked, trying to twist out of his grip. "Get off me!"
Oliver did not oblige. Instead..."We're back here," he called out.
Felicity was absolutely certain she was going to have a heart attack. She squirmed wildly, managing only a few incoherent squeaks, forcing Oliver to press her more firmly against the wall with his body to keep her still.
"Oh." Maria raised her eyebrows. "I wanted to ask you for help with the dishes, but I see you are busy. Will you do them later, Allie?"
Felicity, acutely aware of Oliver's hand, still down the back of her panties and stroking a circle on her right cheek - mercifully out of sight of Maria's observant eye - could barely form a coherent reply. Her yes came out stuttered and breathy.
Maria's eyebrows crawled even higher on her forehead, but she just rolled her eyes and went back to the kitchen.
Felicity had closed her eyes and tipped her head back expecting Oliver to go right back to nibbling at her neck, when he took a step back, pulling his hand out and moving away from her. No longer held up by him, she let herself slide slowly down the wall, collapsing into an ungainly heap on the floor.
"W...what?" she stammered, looking up at him incredulously.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I leave you hanging?" He looked down at her, feigning innocence. "So did you, earlier, when you were having dessert. Too bad we can't always have what we want."
"You bastard!" she shrieked, kicking out at him with one of her legs.
"Take it upstairs, children!" Maria yelled from the kitchen, "or I'm coming out with the spoon!"
That got him. Oliver's eyes widened comically. "Shiiiit!" he hissed, hauling her to her feet and tossing her over his shoulder, tearing up the stairs as she hung there, upside down and laughing.