A/N: You guys are just amazing me with those reviews! Thank you!

Chapter Fourteen

In the increasingly domestic life that Felicity and Oliver came to share, Saturday mornings slowly became Felicity's favorite part of her week. Her and Oliver always went grocery shopping, him pushing the cart and Felicity manning the list as they both shopped for the week. They'd practically started living at each other's apartments a few days of the week, so both stocked the other's favorite in the pantry. Blueberry waffles for her at his and Tommy's apartment. Hazelnut creamer for him at her apartment.

They turned down an aisle and nearly ran right into a large cart with a makeshift car at the front. It was one of the grocery issued carts for shoppers with children, and a small boy who looked to be about four grinned up at them from the little car and roared, "Beep beep!"

"I'm sorry," Oliver directed to the mother, backing up.

"Oh, it's okay," she said. At the front of the cart the little boy continued to loudly beep at Oliver and Felicity. The mother leaned forward and said, "Brian, stop that."

She wheeled the cart out of the aisle and as Felicity and Oliver continued on to the aisle, they could still hear the little boy beeping and his mother's ineffectual admonishments.

"Kids get the coolest things," Felicity mused. "I wish I got to ride in a stroller with a car on the end."

Oliver grinned. "You know, you could have grabbed one. There were a few when we got here."

"Yeah, but then the grocery moms would have given me looks," Felicity told him with a raise eyebrow.

"Grocery moms sound so judgmental," he teased.

"They are," she agreed with a succinct nod. "And I cannot wait to be one of them. It's like – you earn that judginess."

Oliver laughed. "Really?"

"Oh yeah." They were quiet for a moment as they continued down the aisle. Felicity smiled to herself as a memory tickled her mind and said, "I remember when I was little girl going grocery shopping with my mom. It was my favorite thing, going and seeing all the food. My mom would always let me pick out on treat. Cookies. Chips. Whatever I wanted, but I only got one."

"Let me guess, you only picked cookies," Oliver said.

She grinned, knocking her shoulder against his. "Usually. But I liked having the option."

"Of course you did."

He could just imagine a six or seven year old Felicity poring over all of her options with stout determination.

"Anyway, I can't wait to take my own kids food shopping," she said, voice turning nostalgic. "Let them buy their own special treat like my mom did for me. What about you? What's something special you did when you were a kid?"

"Um, I got to watch Rosa polish the silver?"

Felicity snorted. "Come on. There has to be something that you did that you remember. What about holidays? Birthdays?"

They stopped by some cereal and Oliver shrugged, reaching out to grab a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. He put it in the cart and then glanced over at Felicity, who was looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" she pressed.

"On my fifth birthday I got my first share of stock in my family's business," he told her sarcastically. "It was a big moment."

"Your parents are not this bad," she deadpanned. "I met them, remember?"

He shrugged again. "We weren't one of those families. My dad was hardly ever home because he was working so much. My mom was always off at some charity thing. It really was just Thea and I."

Something in that struck Felicity as really sad. She had such fond memories of her childhood, she couldn't imagine literally having none. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Well, I'm sure you'll be different," she said offhandedly, turning her attention to the display of oatmeal.

"What?"

She picked up a box with an assortment of flavored packets and threw them into the cart.

"You know, when you have children," she explained. "You'll be different."

They continued down the aisle, and Oliver casually said, "I don't really know if I want to have kids. I've never been a huge kid person, and they've never really liked me too much."

"Yeah, but it's different when you have your own."

He nodded. "Maybe. I just don't think its for me."

She stared at him, and when she realized she was staring quickly looked away, blinking rapidly as she processed what he'd just told her. It shouldn't matter. They'd only been dating for a few months. Any potential children were far in the future – as was that particular talk – but somehow Felicity couldn't shake the feeling that it did matter. How could it not?

"Do we want hot chocolate?" Oliver asked, holding up a box of Swiss Miss. "I think you're out."

Felicity swallowed hard, nodding. He dropped it in the cart and they went on grocery shopping, both of them pretending nothing had happened, but knowing just how untrue that was.

The next week it was as if there was a sort of cordial impasse between Felicity and Oliver. They still did everything they did before. They went on dates. They stayed at each other's apartment. For all intents and purposes, nothing had changed, except for the tiny, plush elephant in the room.

"You told her you don't want children?" Tommy said in surprise, after hearing Oliver's concerns about what had been happening between him and Felicity since the grocery incident.

"Yeah," Oliver said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He didn't like the look on Tommy's face, which had gone from mild outrage to pity.

"Oh buddy, that was a mistake," Tommy told him, shaking his head. "Felicity's wanted to be a mom for about as long as I can remember. I think she came out of the womb that way."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

"You weren't," Tommy told him placatingly. "But, dude, you should have seen this coming when she was talking about what she would do with her future child. Non-maternal women don't talk about that shit."

Oliver sighed. "I wanted to be honest."

"There's a place for honesty, and then there's a place for little white lies. That was definitely a place for a white lie. I mean, you guys have only been dating for a few months –"

"Exactly!" Oliver interjected. "We've only been dating for a few months! That's why I thought it was harmless when she brought it up. It was just us talking. But then when I said I didn't want kids, it was like I told her that her favorite holiday didn't really exist."

"Yeah, you kind of did. It's called Mother's Day."

Oliver groaned, standing up and beginning to pace. How did things get messed up so quickly? Things were good between him and Felicity. They were great, even.

"I didn't want to lie to her," he said, repeating the same thing he kept repeating to himself over the past few weeks. "Isn't it better to be honest?"

"Well, sure. Sometimes. But, when being honest means dropping the fact that you don't want kids on her in the middle of a grocery store…" he trailed off with a significant look.

"I can see your point," Oliver relented. "But, I did not drop it on her. I just, you know, gently mentioned it."

"In a grocery store. You can't get out of this one, Oliver. You messed up."

"Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't really want kids, and I don't see that changing. With my childhood-"
"Okay, you need to stop it with all this woe is me bullshit with your childhood," Tommy said. "At least your parents like you."

"Your dad likes you."

"He tolerates me," Tommy corrected. "And, really, Robert and Moira are not that bad. I'd gladly let them adopt me."

Oliver smirked. "I'll let them know. See if they're interested in taking a billionaire's wayward son under their wing."

"I'm just saying, Felicity has a point," Tommy said. "Your childhood does not define how you will be as a parent. And not liking other people's annoying children doesn't mean you wouldn't like your own annoying one."

"I can see your stance on children."

"Hey, I might not be the most paternal person on this planet, but I would love the crap out of one of my own," Tommy said. "Imagine a kid with my looks and wit. Who wouldn't love him?"

Oliver laughed.

"You have a right to not want kids," Tommy said. "But don't totally write it off. Because, if it means anything, I think you'd be a baller dad." Oliver gave him a look. "Really, man. I see how you are with Thea. You'd be an amazing dad."

"Thanks, Tommy."

"And, for the love of God, don't let her entrap you in any more of these relationship conversations," Tommy said. "It cannot lead to anything good. Ever."

The next day it was Sunday, and Oliver met his parents and Thea at their childhood home for their usual weekly dinner. Sitting around the dining room table, passing rolls and wine, he asked his family, "Was there anything special we used to do when Thea and I were little?"

Moira's hand stilled over the bread basket. "Well, dear, what do you mean?"

"Did we have any traditions? Things that only our family did?"

Moira and Robert exchanged a look.

"Well, I don't know," Moira said slowly. "I supposed we had some. Why do you ask?"

"Felicity was telling me about her and her mom. They used to go grocery shopping together, and her mom would let her pick something special to buy." He was met with blank stares. "I don't know, it was just a little tradition they had. Whatever, it's stupid. Let's just eat."

"No, I think that's nice," Robert said. "Memories are a wonderful thing."

"She asked me if I had any little traditions, and I couldn't think of any," Oliver said.

The table fell silent, no doubt the three, besides Oliver, taking a trip to their past, trying to discover whatever this hidden tradition was. Oliver had travelled back there often enough after his incident with Felicity, that he didn't feel an additional trip necessary.

"Robert, what about your toy soldiers?" Moira said suddenly.

Oliver's father looked at her in confusion for a moment, and then his eyes lit with recognition.

"I had forgotten all about that!" Richard said, laughing. "The toy soldiers!"

"What about them?" Oliver asked, looking from his one parent to the other.

"Well, dear, you probably don't remember this but you had a lot of trouble sleeping when you were a little boy," Moira began. "You had nightmares, and you always were convinced there was someone watching you."

"You'd scream bloody murder," Robert told him. "Of course, your mother and I would come running, and you'd tell us there was someone at your door, or in your closet, or under your bed – "

"If there was a space, you were convinced some alien was in it," Moira sad indulgently.

"Anyway, after a few weeks of this your mother and I were so exhausted, we knew we had to do something. So, I found these old toy soldiers that were passed down to me from my father –"

"The ones in your office," Oliver filled in, thinking of the row of soldiers lined up on his father's fireplace. He couldn't even count the number of times he'd snuck in there as a kid to play with them.

Robert nodded. "Yes, those. I lined them up outside your room that night, and told you that they were your army, and they were there to protect you. That was the first night in weeks – "

"Months," Moira interjected with a sigh.

Robert laughed. "Weeks, months, either way it was the first time in a long while that you slept through the night. After that, we'd set up your army every night before you went to sleep."

"I don't remember it," Oliver said, wishing he did.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Robert said. "You were two, maybe three. But we did it for a good year, until you could fall asleep on your own."

He thought about what it must have been like back then, sitting with his father outside of his bedroom setting up his toy army. From what he could remember Robert was always away for business. It was only recently that he'd cut back, and they'd started doing these family dinners, a paltry attempt he'd always thought to make up for a remiss upbringing, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was a time when he was there. When there were traditions and special moments. If he was wrong about that, what else was he wrong about?

"What about me?" Thea asked.

"Oh, you were a champion sleeper," Moira told her with a grin. "I swear, you could sleep through a bombing."

"I mean a tradition," Thea spelled out slowly. "Ollie got one, now where's mine?"

"Let's see," Robert said. "Perhaps how your mother and I heard you sneak out of the house nearly every weekend when you started high school."

Thea's eyes grew wide. "You knew?"

"Dear, your ride would honk," Moira said.

"And you let me sneak off? You're not getting the parents of the year award."

"We knew better than to try to control you," Robert said casually. "So, we just hired an undercover security detail to follow you."

There was a beat of silence and then Thea screeched, "You what?"

Despite Felicity nearly living at Tommy's apartment for a good half of the week, they still tried to meet once in a while outside of the apartment for coffee or lunch. He told her that it was to air himself out, so to speak, but she thought it was really because he felt that he couldn't compete with Oliver when they were in the same room. Granted, he was partially right. If it came down to her boyfriend and her cousin, the boyfriend would probably win. Few things were thicker than blood, but Oliver was pretty close.

Either way, she liked their little outings. He took her to places she didn't know in the city, and always knew the perfect things to order. They were at a hole in the wall café this time, with one of those menus that was largely word of mouth. The place itself looked like a Bohemian yard sale. Beneath the high wooden ceilings was a mish mosh of furniture that seemed to match purely due to the deliberate non -matching. They were seated on a leather loveseat with bright orange brocade accent pillows.

Tommy casually set down his half-caff redeye and said, "I heard you and Oliver started the baby talk. If he were any lesser of a man, he'd be halfway to Tibet by now."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Very funny. And we didn't start anything. It was a simple conversation. That's all."

"That's not all. And you know it."

No, it wasn't. But she wasn't about to tell Tommy that. Things seemed to be marginally more comfortable between her and Oliver. He'd told her that maybe he was a bit rash in saying he didn't want children, but that it was something he couldn't see for himself right now. She'd nodded, telling him she understood, and she did. She knew exactly what it was – a way to table the conversation, a band aid over the tear in their relationship that neither of them knew where to begin repairing.

It was such a small thing, but then it wasn't. She told herself that she was being ridiculous letting it affect her so much. Who cares if he didn't want children? That could change – he'd said so himself – and even if it didn't, did she really need to have children? She loved him, and if she continued loving him and loving their life together, wouldn't that be enough? Still, there was a part of her that envisioned herself pushing a cart down a grocery aisle, a small blond girl riding up front with bright blue eyes.

"It's not the end of the world, you know," Tommy said, pulling her from her thoughts. "What he said. It doesn't mean that's how he'll always feel."

Felicity smiled sardonically. "That's what he told me."

"See, you have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know," she said uncertainly, wrapping her hand tightly around her mug of tea. "Things were going so well. But then this, I don't know. It's making me think. And not in a good way. I mean, if we want such different things – "

"It's not that different," Tommy tried ineffectually to argue.

She gave him a look and said, "Wanting and not wanting children is a pretty fundamental difference, Tommy."

"I think you're overreacting," Tommy held. "You two are nowhere near having kids, so why worry about it? Just enjoy what you have."

She knew Tommy was right that her and Oliver were nowhere near having children, or even really entertaining the thought. They weren't even living together yet, and maybe he was right that she should just enjoy what they had now. It wasn't bad. They worked together, and loved each other. People would give their lives for what they had, but she couldn't shake the nagging feeling in her chest. It was there when she left, and when her and Oliver met up later that day when he returned from his dinner with his parents. It was there when they made love, and when she laid in his arms afterwards, the sound of his heartbeat against her ear as familiar as her own.

"I love you," he murmured above her head, his hand smoothing the blanket down along her hip. "You know that, right?"

She tilted her face up to his and smiled softly. "I do."

"I feel like things have been weird between us ever since…"

He trailed off and she said, "Grocery-gate."

Despite the seriousness of what they were discussing, that made him crack a smile.

"Grocery-gate?" he asked carefully. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"It's what I've been calling it in my head," she returned.

"I wish it never happened," he said. "I wish I never said what I said, because, I love you, and if that's something you really want, I could do it."

She pulled away from him, tugging the blanket up higher on her small frame.

"It's not something I want you to just do. Why are we even talking about this anymore? It's-it's fine. We're years away from any of that, and who's to say it will even be me and you, and-"

"That's the thing," he interrupted. "I think it will be you. I want it to be you. Because you're the only person I've felt this way with. You're the only person who's challenged me and made me think, and think differently."

"I don't want you to change fundamental beliefs for me," Felicity said. "If you don't want kids, that's fine. You can feel that way, and you should. If that's what you really want. But I don't want you to think that you have to –"

He cut her off, covering her mouth with his. She knew this wasn't a time to get sidetracked by passion, but his tongue ran along her bottom lip and she was on top of him without really thinking, running her hands along the planes of his body that she knew so well she could probably map them from memory. The logical part of her brain kept nudging, telling her that there was more to discuss and losing herself in his body was not the right way to have this discussion, but thankfully she didn't have to listen to that part of her brain, because Oliver made the decision for them. He took a hold of her waist and sat up, bringing her with him. She leaned in to kiss him again but he pulled back, reaching up and taking a hold of her face.

"If you were trying to distract me it was working," she said with a small smile. She leaned in again, her lips just brushing his. "Don't stop now."

"I don't want to distract you," he said, smoothing her hair away from her face. He took a deep breath and then told her, "I want to tell you that I have a tradition."

She settled back a bit on his lap, surprised by what he just said. "What?"

"Like you and your mom had. I have one."

"But I thought – "

"I asked my parents tonight at dinner if we had any," he said. "It turns out we did."

He told her then about the toy soldiers, and how him and his dad would arrange them each night before he went to bed.

"I don't really remember it," he said. "But I can see it. My dad and I lining them up in front of my door. It's something that I…" he trailed off swallowing hard, "…I could see doing with my own son."

Felicity smiled softly, tears filling her eyes. "Really?"

He nodded. "I never could see it before. But I can now. I can see it."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying this, right? You're not just saying it because of before?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm saying it because I want to have a baby with you one day, Felicity Smoak. And I want you to line up little toy soldiers outside its room with me."

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into the nook of his neck. Against his skin she murmured, "I want that, too. I really, really want that."

They stayed that way for a while, wrapped up in each other and quietly reveling in them finally getting past the roadblock that had stopped them in their tracks for a good while. Against his shoulder she mumbled, "But…you do realize those toy soldiers are a major tripping hazard, right?"

"What do you mean? They're tiny. No one could trip over them."

"Kids have tiny feet. They could trip over them. Or step on them."

"Are you trying to ruin my one tradition?" he asked glibly.

She grinned, realizing that the tradition didn't really matter. What did was that they were going to have one. Together.

"No, it's perfect," she told him resolutely, smiling. "And I'd be the luckiest girl in the world to do it with you. Just, you know, we wouldn't put any soldiers directly in front of the door."

"I guess that's fine," Oliver said.

She grinned, kissing him lightly. "Look at us, already compromising. If we ever do have kids, we're going to be so good at it."

If any other woman had told him this, he might not have believed her. If any other woman had told him this, me might have even been freaked out. But it was Felicity, and he thought to himself that she couldn't be more right.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! I hate to preach about this, but we are down about 70 reviews from the last chapter. It's pretty unlikely I actually lost that many readers in the span of a few weeks, so if you are reading review. I spend a lot of time on these chapters, and I will not continue to do so if I do not feel people are reading.