(A/N: This is my first effort a fic in months, and I'm rusty as hell. Which explains why this ends so abruptly. Honestly, I don't know where the heck this came from, but I'm glad to be writing Olicity fic again!)

FF #25: A Case of Mistaken Identity

It's not the first time Felicity's been mistaken for somebody else. It's happened often enough that I guess I just have one of those faces is a familiar refrain. It's happened often enough around Oliver that he's commented on it, confusion pulling his features into an adorable frown. "I don't understand. There isn't anyone like you."

But it is the first time she's been mistaken for Lyla.

Her heel gets caught in a crack in the sidewalk, and Dig grabs her elbow as she pitches forward. He hauls her upright one-handed because he's balancing little Sara on his other arm.

A short, chubby kid with a gap-toothed grin whistles appreciatively from his perch on the stoop outside Dig's building.

"Damn, son," the kid says to Dig. "That your baby mama?"

Felicity's eyes widen so much, they start to ache. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm not—we're not—"

"We're very much not a thing, Shorty," Dig says to the kid. "You've met Lyla before. You know, my wife."

Felicity leans into Dig and whispers, "It's kind of rude to call him 'Shorty,' considering the—" She waves her hand around. Sara tracks the wild movement with her eyes and giggles. "—the height thing. Or lack of it."

The kid crosses his arms and leans back like a thug in training. "It's my name, bi—"

"Shorty."

Dig's tone silences all of them. No one moves. Felicity swears she can hear crickets chirping even though it's hours till sunset.

He could say more. He could explain why the term Shorty was about to use is so offensive. He could admonish Shorty for being rude. He could even force the kid to apologize. But he doesn't. Somehow he's conveyed all of that—and more—in the way he said the kid's name.

"What kind of terrible person names their short kid Shorty?" Felicity blurts out.

"My mama . . ." Shorty hesitates, glancing at Dig. "My mama, ma'am."

"You had to ask," Dig mutters.

"My mama," says Shorty. "My mama so dumb, she got hit by a parked car. My mama so fat, even Dora couldn't explore her."

Felicity doesn't know the protocol for "yo mama" jokes. Is it okay to laugh, or would that be insulting Shorty's mother? Or is she insulting Shorty if she doesn't laugh?

Shorty follows them into the building, spouting more jokes that he's changed to "my mama." Everything from "my mama so cheap" to "my mama so ugly" and "my mama so hot." His mother turns out to be a pleasant, friendly woman not much older than Felicity. She chats with Dig briefly and then steers Shorty toward an apartment a few doors down.

The kid runs back to them and jabs Felicity with a surprisingly sharp elbow. "One more for the lady?" He adopts a swaggering pose to go with his grin. "My mama so fat, she got mass whether the Higgs-Boson exists or not."

Felicity laughs so hard, she snorts. Shorty finds this hilarious and tries for an encore, but his mother intervenes, rolling her eyes. Felicity's still laughing as she follows Dig and baby Sara into the apartment.

Oliver is helping Lyla set the table, and Felicity can't help but notice the way his eyes light up when he sees her.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"Oh, nothing," she says, wiping away tears of laughter. "A science joke."

"Are you going to share?" he says after a brief pause.

She shakes her head. "Having to explain why it's funny automatically renders it non-funny."

"Oh, come on." He gives her a playful nudge that sends the butterflies in her stomach into flight. "I got the Schrodinger's cat joke you sent me."

"Only because I also sent you the Wikipedia article for Schrodinger's cat. Which I didn't think you'd actually read."

"It was from you," said Oliver. "Of course I did."