Author's Note:

I envisioned this scene taking place in a space very similar to the Grand Ballcourt I once visited in Chichen Itza. Later, while researching, I realized that the ballcourt at Palenque is very different and, frankly, wouldn't work. So instead of scrapping the scene, I'm asking anyone who knows this area of the world well to suspend their disbelief as I basically superimpose Chichen Itza's ballcourt in Palenque.

We'll just say it's a different universe.

To Sacrifice the Sun

Chapter Six

September 16, 2016
20:36
Palenque Ruins, Mexico

The walk back to camp wasn't too awkward. A little quiet at first, sure, but…it could have been worse. Okay, maybe, it was quiet for about five seconds before Felicity couldn't handle it anymore and started rambling.

It wasn't terrible though. She didn't make even one accidental inappropriate innuendo…she thought. Well, if she did, Oliver was too much of a gentleman to call her out on it. But Felicity was pretty sure it was a half-way intelligent conversation.

They even managed to have a short debate on how smart it was to have an enormous campfire in the middle of a Mayan ballcourt (though she doubted any of the others had any idea that it was a ballcourt and just saw it as an open field surrounded by tall walls that were easily defended).

Felicity argued that the evenings, while less oppressive, were still pretty damn hot and the heat from the fire was not only unnecessary, but vastly uncomfortable. And there was the question of the wisdom of a giant fire serving as a beacon to their enemies.

Oliver didn't so much argue her points as smile indulgently and point out Digg felt that since they hadn't really begun the stealthy part of their mission yet and, since it was their last night they could have a real meal, it was safe enough.

So maybe it was less of a debate and more Felicity complaining and Oliver indulging her. That didn't stop her from also pointing out that they were all going to melt just because John had missed Oliver's cooking. And she thought that, maybe, that made Oliver smile so…win. As rambles went, she'd had more embarrassing ones. In the last hour for example.

Distracted, Felicity hadn't had time to decide whether she was angry and Caitlin and Curtis (mostly Caitlin since she was her best friend and should know better) for sending Oliver after her or not. The last thing Felicity needed in her life was her friends making a complicated situation more convoluted by playing matchmaker, even if it was with the best of intentions.

When they got to the courtyard Felicity saw Caitlin giving her a knowing look. She was almost smirking as she watched Felicity and Oliver walk in side by side, as if she were so proud of herself and her match-making skills.

And Felicity decided, yes, she was going to be angry with her, because…seriously? What the frak? With everything that Cait knew, one would think she'd have better sense than to try to play cupid.

It only took one look from Felicity and Caitlin hurried over to join her, stepping away from the others. But any best friend sixth sense apparently ended there, because Cait blatantly ignored the annoyed look on Felicity's face and grinned, asking in an almost sing-song voice, "So, how'd it go?"

"Terribly," Felicity hissed, quietly, but with considerable heat as she grabbed Cait's arm and pulled her away from the group. Felicity was feeling spiteful as the conversation with Oliver started to replay in her mind and the anxiety about his reaction to her stupid impulsive words resurfaced. "Horribly. What were you thinking?"

Caitlin blanched, her eyes widening. "Nothing, I…I wasn't thinking any...what happened?"

She wasn't thinking? That was for sure. And as for what happened? Well, Felicity babbled like fool, told Oliver she believed in ghosts, insulted him, insinuated that she had wanted him out of her life and to move on without her…which was true, but only in the most idiotic self-sacrificing way…which she did not say. Though given five more minutes she probably would have, since her filter when it came to him was pretty much non-existent.

"I made everything worse," was what Felicity finally told Caitlin.

Her friend winced, then lowered her voice and asked, "Did you tell him?"

"Not that." Though, maybe Felicity should have. A few minutes ago, keeping it to herself had seemed the right thing to do, but now that Oliver wasn't next to her…god, she wasn't sure of anything. And her anxiety over what he was thinking was growing rapidly.

Maybe telling Oliver about the hysterectomy would have made it better. Somehow. Maybe it would have made it so much worse. Felicity just didn't know anymore.

"I told him pretty much everything else, though. In a completely incomprehensible way. Now he probably thinks I'm a basket-case and that I dumped him on a whim," Felicity whimpered, as she vented at poor Caitlin, who may or may not deserve it.

But, good god, Felicity prayed that she had been able to convince Oliver that it wasn't a whim, because the idea of him believing that, of him believing that she had never really loved him… that was unthinkable. And, given everything, absurd.

"Why, oh why would you try to play matchmaker?" Felicity demanded, because while she was sure Caitlin's intentions were good, she knew how difficult the situation is. "You know how complicated—"

"I wasn't—"

Felicity cut Cait off with her best accusatory glare.

But Caitlin shook her head, whispering furiously, "Really, I wasn't. I won't deny that I have hopes you two will…look, Curtis and I were discussing, not with Oliver, with each other…though, we weren't trying to hide anything either…we were talking about which one of us, as in me or Curtis, should go find you and make you come to dinner. Oliver just hopped up and said he'd do it. Honestly, we were all shocked, but no one was going to tell him 'no.'"

Oh. Well. That changed things.

Not only in that it kind of cleared Curtis and Caitlin of being overprotective and manipulative, but…well…it also put a whole different light on Oliver coming to see her. He really had volunteered. As in actually sought Felicity out. Without anyone else proposing the idea to him. Wow. Had he wanted to see her? Just to…be around her?

"Did it really go that bad?" Caitlin whispered. She was wringing her hands and now Felicity's guilt started to climb.

Felicity had been pretty unfair. Especially when, in the end, she was actually glad Oliver had sought her out, even if her verbal incontinence had almost ruined everything.

"No," Felicity admitted, deflating. In truth, some parts had actually gone almost…well. She thought. Hopefully. "I'm sorry for blowing up at—"

"That's okay," Caitlin interrupted immediately. "I have been pushing a lot and it's probably unfair. Just because I'm ready to get back on the horse, doesn't mean you are. I need to remember that."

"Oh, Cait," Felicity sighed, just the idea made her anxious. And tired. So tired. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready to get back on that particular horse. I'm kind of done with horses." And the only horse she could even imagine being interested in was most likely done with her for good. Or, at least, would be once he knew everything. "I'm…wait. What do you mean you're ready?"

Had Felicity caught that right? And if she had, then why was this the first time she was hearing about it?

Caitlin's blush told her that, yes, Felicity had heard exactly right. "That was one of the reasons I agreed to come back," Cait confessed. "I needed to exercise my daemons. Get closure. It's been five years, Felicity. I can't stay a widow forever. I don't want to. I'm not even 30."

And, instantaneously, Felicity felt terrible. Why was she always thinking only about herself? "I know. I know. Of course. That's what Ronnie would want. You should totally start dating again."

And even as she said what she knew was the right thing to say, the supportive best friend thing, Felicity's stomach dropped.

For five years, Caitlin had been her person. As much as she pretended she wanted to be alone, she never had to be, because Cait had always been there for her. And, while she knew this wasn't Caitlin abandoning her, it…if Cait had another person, where would that leave Felicity?

Caitlin's face screwed up and she blurted out, "I already have?"

Was that a question or…? Oh, god, it was a confession.

"You have?" Felicity parroted, like an idiot, because she was confused and selfish and why hadn't Cait told her? Was it that obvious that Felicity would have a hard time with this? She was the worst best friend ever. No wonder Cait wanted someone else in her life.

Nodding, Caitlin whispered, "Yes…I started…yes."

She'd known what Cait meant, but still Felicity felt a little sick to her stomach. "Who?" Because she had no idea. How could she have no idea?

Caitlin's face scrunched up again, her pert little nose wrinkling as she confessed in a tiny voice, "Barry."

"Barry? Our Barry?"

Caitlin nodded and the sense of relief that washed over Felicity was ridiculous. Because, okay, that made sense. Phew. Wow, she wasn't that out of the loop.

Felicity knew Caitlin and Barry were close, even flirty. And, while, Felicity hadn't really thought about it before, since her mind just generally avoided the subject of romance at all costs, now that she did think about it, it completely made sense. There was some great chemistry there.

Actually, she'd had a passing thought that Barry had a crush on Cait a while ago, Felicity just hadn't realized that the feelings were returned. Well, the truth was she hadn't thought Caitlin was over Ronnie. How did someone get over losing the love of their life? If there was an answer Felicity certainly didn't know it.

But, also, thank goodness, because Barry was one of them. He wasn't going to steal Caitlin away from them, from Felicity. They could all stay in The Cave. Not much had to change. Felicity couldn't take anymore change.

"That's great, Cait!" Felicity breathed, wondering if her relief was evident in her smile. "Barry's an amazing guy."

Cait bit her lip almost shyly. "You think?"

Felicity nodded and her smile, for once, wasn't forced. "Of course. He's Barry. I love Barry…well, not like you love Barry. Obviously. Like as a brother. Me, I mean. But not you. You are clearly having not so sisterly…it's a great match." Okay, she was going to end this now, before it stopped being cute. "I'm happy for you both."

Caitlin broke out in a wide grin, grabbing Felicity's arms and bouncing just a smidge on her toes. "Oh good, because I really, really like him Felicity. And I never thought…"

Felicity pulled her in for a hug, not wanting her to have to say it. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered into Caitlin's neck, tears burning her eyes. Happy tears. Or were they tears of regret?

Or maybe Felicity was mourning the happy ending she had once seen for herself but had flitted from her grasp.

"Thank you." Caitlin gave her one last tight hug, before pulling back and brushing beneath her own wet eyes. "Did things really go that badly with Oliver?"

"Cait…" Felicity sighed, a new realization dawning. "You don't have to worry about me. You're allowed to find love, even if I don't."

But her friend was already shaking her head. "That's not why—"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Felicity questioned quietly, because that still kind of stung. She would have been supportive of Cait dating, especially Barry of all people.

Caitlin shrugged, her happy expression dimming. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you." She looked away. "I felt guilty, I guess."

"Because of me and Oliver?"

"Nooo," Caitlin reassured quickly. Then her eyes shifted away. "Because of Ronnie."

"Oh." Well. Now Felicity really felt bad. "Oh, Sweetie, Ronnie wouldn't want you to be alone. He'd want you to be happy. That's all he ever wanted for you."

"I know, but…" Caitlin caught a tear with her thumb as it slipped from the corner of her eye, then seemed to force herself to smile and look back at Felicity. "Well, that's what this trip is about for me. On a personal level. Saying goodbye."

Felicity didn't know what to say to that, so she just smiled sympathetically and gave Caitlin's shoulder a squeeze.

"And," Caitlin added, "my wanting you to work things out with Oliver has nothing to do with me feeling guilty that I…might be finding love again and everything to do with you being my best friend and so very obviously still in love with him—"

"Shhh," Felicity gasped, blindsided by how quickly the conversation had turned back to her. Her eyes darted around to make sure no one overheard. She didn't even bother to deny it, though. What would be the point?

Caitlin, however, looked completely unconcerned by the fact that the team was right there. "And he is just as obviously still in love with you." That brought Felicity's eyes, and full attention, snapping back to Cait. "You are both good people who deserve to be happy."

"Cait…" But then, Felicity bit her cheek to keep from saying more, because it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Caitlin how she knew Oliver still had feelings for her, to demand evidence. God, she felt like a teenager again. The next thing she knew she'd be asking Cait to go ask Oliver if he 'liked' her.

But why did Caitlin think Oliver still had feelings for her? And didn't it mean something that she did. Cait was awfully perceptive.

"So," Cait whispered conspiratorially, seeming to enjoy this high school vibe Felicity was feeling and embracing it fully, "Tell me everything. I'm sure we can figure this out…"

The last thing Felicity wanted to do was tell her everything. She was barely okay with something. "It wasn't that bad," she conceded, hoping she wouldn't have to say much more than that. "There were good parts." Parts when Felicity felt incredibly connected to Oliver, when it had felt normal and real and beautiful. "When I wasn't unintentionally spewing truth bombs." Or half-truth bombs.

Caitlin shook her head, like she simultaneously couldn't believe her and recognized her behavior for classic Felicity Smoak. "You know what your problem is? You are just the worst liar. It's just not in your make-up to lie and keep things from people. You are a natural sharer."

Didn't Felicity know it. It might seem ironic, given the secrets she'd been keeping, but Caitlin couldn't be more right. "Why do you think I avoided everyone after Tikal? Five minutes alone and I start confessing. You don't even have to interrogate me," Felicity whispered furiously, "I just start spewing. You should have heard all the stupid stuff I've said to Oliver in the last twenty-four hours."

"Well, that just makes me want to lock you two in a room together," Caitlin whispered back just as fiercely, her frustration obvious. "Because you need to clear the air, Felicity. Get it all out there."

Caitlin didn't understand.

"The truth will only make things worse," Felicity muttered.

"Not nec—"

"Chili's on!" Digg called and Felicity breathed a sigh of relief. Looked like she was going to get a short reprieve in explaining to Cait exactly why Oliver wasn't ready to hear everything. It was a painful subject and she'd had her fill of those for one day.

Or the next five years.

"Oh good, I'm starving," Felicity announced, turning to walk over to the sweltering fire, sure she wasn't fooling Caitlin at all. Felicity was never 'starving.'

But she did find a spot that had a good view of Curtis and Puppy. A girl needed to get her kicks somewhere, especially after a day like today. Cait came and sat next to her, shooting her a disgruntled look that made it clear that the conversation may be on pause, but it was far from over.

Felicity smiled at her, because the stay of execution was good enough for her. Plus, she was certain that Cait was really going to enjoy this particular show.

Digg hammed it up, making a big show of passing around Oliver's chili and talking about how it was a team favorite from the good old days, which was all true. Slade and Sara took it up a notch, eating it without reacting to the extreme heat. In fact, one would think it was the best thing they'd ever tasted. Felicity shared a sideways look with a confused Cait and swallowed a giggle.

Oliver said nothing, just worked over his masterpiece. But when the light from the fire hit his face just right, Felicity could see the amusement in his blue eyes.

He was the one to serve Felicity and Caitlin, handing them mess bowls with thick chunks of skillet cornbread and giving them a discreet wink before returning to the fire. Felicity tried really hard not to be distracted by the beads of sweat forming on his neck and forehead.

"Oh. My. God. He didn't," Caitlin whispered under her breath. Then she took a small, careful bite, her eyes widening. "He did!" And only Cait could manage to both exclaim and whisper at the same time. "Oliver made you a non-lethal batch of chili."

Felicity shrugged, keeping her eyes on her chili and hoping the dim lighting hid her blush. "He made us a non-lethal batch," she corrected quietly, then saved herself from further conversation by taking a large spork full (they only have sporks on these kind of missions, less gear).

Good god, it was even better than Felicity remembered. The man really should have been a chef. The version Oliver made for them was still spicy, just not five-alarm, melt-the-paint-off-the-barn-wall spicy. Honestly, it was perfection. And the cornbread…Felicity hummed to herself as she took another bite.

"Felicity," Caitlin hissed in her ear, "there is no way that man over there made a separate batch of his famous chili for me. I'm just reaping the rewards of being with you. Look at him!"

As if Felicity wasn't already discretely staring at him as she ate. The firelight suited him and the sweat gave him an indecent sheen. Oliver looked so…manly tending the fire and the large pot like some sort of cowboy out on the range. The man was a walking wet-dream.

Oliver sent her a glance, one that lingered, and Felicity held his glaze, smiling as she tasted his food, hoping he understood it for what it was, a compliment and a thank you. His small answering smile showed her that he did.

Caitlin must have caught the looks passing between them, because she leaned closer and hissed, "If this doesn't prove that he is still in love with you, then I don't know what does. You'd have to be blind not to see it."

Felicity wished she wasn't still trading looks with Oliver, because there was no way that he didn't see the interaction and the way she flushed over Caitlin's words.

"It's just chili," Felicity muttered, but no one was buying it.

Luckily, Caitlin decided not to argue further, though, because the show was about to begin.

Digg served Roy and Curtis last and together. And everyone waited. Even Oliver. He served himself and sat down casually, eating his chili with no reaction what-so-ever.

Felicity had tried that chili before. And she knew it for what it was. Her team, save her and Caitlin (the only sane ones), took great pleasure in not showing any reaction to pain (and it was painful). This was a pissing match. A game. Something like walking on hot coals or stitching up their own wounds without anesthesia. Every one of them took great pride in their pain tolerance and tried to one up each other at every opportunity.

Roy took a bite first, his eyes going wide. But, to his credit, that was his only reaction. After he swallowed…and, damn, that first bite must hurt, he just said stiffly, "It's good."

His eyes were watering though. Roy must already be catching on. Felicity supposed that three years in hell with Oliver must count for something. He may have even endured torture of some kind for all she knew. It seemed Roy knew exactly what was expected of an ARGUS Special Ops. Yes, Puppy was going to fit in just fine. Felicity was almost proud.

Curtis, on the other hand…

"Whoa!"

He jumped out of his seat with the first bite. Which, to be fair, had been rather large. "Frak! What the hell is this? This isn't food this is…Wildfire! Where's the bloody Imp?" Curtis stuck out his tongue, panting and frantically rubbing his palm over it to remove the…toxins, maybe?

It was a show worthy of Ringling Brothers. Caitlin was doubled over with laughter (which may also have been because she was the only other person there who understood the Game of Thrones reference). But everyone else was at least chuckling. Very much at Curtis' expense. Felicity bit her lip, not wanting to take too much pleasure in her friend's pain. Well, not visibly anyway.

She looked up and met Oliver's eyes and saw he was fighting a pleased smile. Felicity swore he enjoyed making people cry with his chili even more than he enjoyed making them smile with the rest of his cooking. In this small way, he was a bit of a sadist.

"What's wrong with you, boy?" Slade called out. "Even the girls can eat this!"

Felicity ignored Slade's trademark sexism. It was part of his shtick. Something that not one of them bought, not after years of watching him treat Shado like the queen she was. And, for all his bite, not only did they all know that Slade would take a bullet for each and every one of them, but he never dismissed a word one of his 'girls' said.

Disrespectful words flowed from his mouth like acid, but if you looked at his actions, it was clear as glass that Slade Wilson not only admired strong woman but worshipped the ground they walked on. Weakness, however, he reviled.

Sara knew all this better than anyone. After Caitlin and Felicity left the team and Oliver went to Russia, Slade and Sara became partners on more missions than not. So Felicity knew it was playful rivalry and not real malice that had Sara sending a pebble flying and bouncing off of Slade's forehead.

"Hey, don't forget this girl can out drink you, outlast you, and take you down."

Besides walking on hot coals and eating Oliver's chili, being able to hold one's liquor was a key factor to one's worth in Special ops.

Slade's only reaction to the stone was a narrowed eye. "I'll take that challenge, darl. But I wasn't talking about you."

Slade and Sara had always had an interesting relationship, enjoying taunting and one upping the other. Neither ever really taking offense. Felicity could imagine that must have morphed into a strong brother-sisterly bond with all the time they'd spent together over the last five years.

Slade sent a hard look over to Curtis and jerked his thumb at Sara. "This one doesn't count. She's got lava running through her veins. Barely human."

The kind of brother-sister bond that make parents want to drive the minivan into the river after a twenty-minute drive with them in the back seat.

"I was talking about those two," Slade gestured to Cait and Felicity this time, his lips tipping up in challenge. "The actual delicate, female types."

Sara looked like she was ready to let another rock fly but she then shrugged, seeming to decide to take it as a compliment, and went back to her chili. When push came to shove, Sara was one of the guys.

"You know, I can stop your heart a dozen different ways without even touching you, right?" Caitlin asked sweetly, apparently deciding it was her turn to defend 'delicate female types' everywhere, if Sara wasn't going to do it.

Ah well, Felicity was part of the team too. And sometimes sisters just had to take their brother down.

"And I could probably target you with a missile via satellite in less than a minute," Felicity added, cause, hey, it was true. They were both deadly in their own way. And they were decidedly not delicate, even if they did have their own batch of non-lethal chili.

"Oi, didn't say you weren't deadly and brilliant. Just that you were delicate female types. It's a compliment." And in his Slade-way, Felicity was certain it was. Then before they could argue further, Slade turned back to poor Curtis, who still had his tongue out flapping in the air like a golden retriever. "But you, boy-o, are even more delicate than those too. Pansy boy, we'd call you back home."

It was offensive and Felicity had to wonder if Slade knew that Curtis was gay. But she also knew that it had nothing to do with sexuality and everything to with being a hard-as-nails field agent. Slade couldn't care less what anyone's sexuality was. Anyone but Shado, that was.

Plus, torturing Curtis was fun. So on team solidarity (old team, not Cave team. Cave team would still be mocking anyone who didn't get the Game of Thrones reference), they turned to Curtis and, together, Felicity and Caitlin made a show of taking great big bites of chili, making Sara and Digg laugh out loud. Felicity had to wonder if they knew the real spice level of their chili.

"No way!" Curtis gaped. "How can you stand it? Is this why you never eat? Your taste buds have been burned off?" he demanded of Felicity.

Felicity didn't have a chance to respond to that one, as Oliver took clear offense, turning on Curtis with a, "Hey!" and a pointed finger that must have been just about the scariest thing Curtis had ever seen, because he jumped back, hands up, looking like he was about to pee his pants.

Felicity just about choked, the laughter simply wouldn't stay in. But maybe that was just her delight at being defended by Oliver. And for something so ridiculous too. "Try it with the cornbread," she offered, between sniggers. "It's delicious." Hers was anyway.

Roy cleared his throat and offered, his voice sounding a little raw, "It's good. You just need to get used to it."

Digg laughed and clapped Roy on the back. "You, my boy, have passed the test."

"Oh, thank god," Roy gasped, letting out a breath. "Anyone got water?"

There was a round of laughter and even Oliver chuckled as he threw Roy a bottle.

But Digg turned to Curtis, his face a hard mask (that was completely for show. Probably). "You are lucky you're an Engineer."

"You mean this is a joke?" Curtis looked like he couldn't decide if he was offended or impressed.

"Nope," Oliver answered, completely straight-faced as he took a big bite of the stuff, seeming to roll it around on his tongue. Felicity was convinced that it was self-flagellation that made him love it so much. "This is my famous chili. Separates the men from the boys."

"And the women?" Caitlin asked with a smirk, which Felicity thought was rather brave of her.

But Oliver winked at her. "Women are inherently superior. They don't need to be separated out."

"Good answer, Ollie," Sara nodded, approvingly, scooting closer to give her old friend a shoulder bump in praise.

"Kiss up," Slade muttered, looking pointedly at Felicity, clearly implying he thought she was the person he was 'kissing up' to.

Felicity, for her part, did her best to avoid all their gazes, particularly Oliver's. Though, she couldn't help the pleasure humming through her from Oliver's words.

She didn't need to worry about further attention though. Slade wasn't done torturing poor Curtis. "Engineer or no…I say that we give Cisco a chance to try the chili when we get back."

The insinuation was clear. Slade didn't think Curtis was up to snuff. He was replaceable. With his biggest rival. Not to mention his best friend. Felicity was impressed at Slade's ability to find and zero in on Curtis' weak spot so quickly. But then again, she expected nothing less.

The Engineer's eyes flashed and Felicity could see he was starting to lose it, which was Slade's (and maybe Digg and Sara's) intention all along. "Cisco's Hispanic," Curtis bit out. "He probably had habanero mixed in with his baby food."

Digg shrugged dismissively and no one who didn't know him well would have any idea that he was teasing. "Then you better work on your tolerance, man."

And for some stupid-ass reason, Curtis actually took that challenge, shoving a huge spork full of chili in his mouth. Oliver was right. Woman must be inherently superior, cause men…so dumb.

"Water!" Curtis gasped, tears forming in his eyes.

Laughing, Slade handed Curtis a flask. "Good show, mate. Drink."

Fumbling with the cap, Curtis took a long swallow before breaking off with a cough. "Dear god, that's just fuel for the fire!"

"Give here," Roy demanded and Curtis readily released the flask to the younger man, who took a lengthy drink to the raucous cheers of the team (the Special Ops team), before he passed the flask to Sara on his left.

"Dude," Curtis gaped, incredulous, "are your taste buds dead from some freak childhood accident or something?"

Roy shook his head, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. "Look, this shit is hot." He paused to gulp down some water before handing the bottle to Curtis. "But it sure as hell beats slapping water. Outdoors. In the middle of winter. Do you know how cold the winters are in Russia?"

Felicity's eyes flew to Oliver's and they shared an amused smile, because she got that reference.

"Besides," Roy added, voluntarily taking another bite, "have you eaten Russian food? At least this stuff has flavor."

By that point, Sara had passed the flask to Oliver and he raised it in Roy's direction calling out, "Vashe zdorovie." Which seemed to be Russian for 'I agree'…or something. And in a Russian accent that wasn't something that should have caused a sharp spike of arousal the likes Felicity hadn't felt in years. But Oliver's…lordy, that was hot.

"Vashe zdorovie," Roy agreed, presenting the water bottle to toast, since there seemed to be only one container of alcohol, which really was lax of Slade. He was normally so much better prepared.

But when Oliver tipped the flask to his lips he froze after the first mouthful, lowering it slowly before asking, "Guatemalan Rum?"

Oh god. Felicity's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't look at Oliver. Seriously? Just when things were starting to be a little smoother. What did fate have against them?

"The very best," Slade confirmed and Felicity had to remind herself that Slade wasn't taunting them. He couldn't possibly know the significance of this particular type of rum. There was no way that Oliver had shared this was the drink they had shared their last night together. And really, if Oliver had, Felicity was certain that Slade would be bleeding by now.

When she was able to look at Oliver again…the look on his face and the tension in his body had Felicity's heart racing. Were those good memories or bad the rum was triggering? God, that night…it had been an amazing night. Before…

She was so busy staring like a love-sick fool that she barely noticed the flask had made its way to her until it was being pressed into her hands.

Felicity drank without thinking and that same Guatemalan rum hit her taste buds like a Mack truck and she knew why Oliver had that reaction, because it was a very specific taste and with one sip Felicity was right back in that humid little room, drinking rum, this rum, off of his skin.

She could still remember the way Oliver's tongue tasted drenched in the stuff…

Felicity quickly passed the flask to Caitlin, who laughed and pushed it toward Digg on Felicity's other side, because apparently, they were going clockwise and not counter-clock…whatever.

Jokes were being yelled out about her not being able to handle her liquor anymore. Let them think that. Felicity would never correct them. What was she supposed to say? That now all she could think about was kissing a rum drenched Oliver? That it was a constant struggle to keep her eyes off of his lips?

It made it much harder to keep up with the conversation, but Felicity had a strong suspicion that Slade refilled that, not unsubstantial, flask multiple times as the night wore on, because before she knew it, the lot of them were drunk as skunks. (She should never have doubted Slade or his alcohol supply).

Then, the next thing Felicity knew, half of the them were shirtless, including Sara. Though, fortunately, she was still wearing her sports bra and excluding Oliver, unfortunately, but also fortunately because the UST was starting to be painful. The fact that Felicity and Oliver were avoiding the rum and may very well be the only sober ones left should have helped, but really really didn't.

On the other end of the spectrum was Roy, who was drunkenly throwing pebbles at one of the great stone hoops twenty feet in the air.

"So what were these things used for anyway?" poor drunken Puppy asked, throwing another stone and missing. He was, also unfortunately, still wearing a shirt. Felicity had a feeling he would be pretty without a shirt, unlike Slade who looked like a great scarred bear. But, then again, maybe she would have found him attractive if she didn't think of him as a surly uncle.

"Pretty much what you are doing," Caitlin answered. She was stretched out beside Felicity, her head lulling on her shoulders as she watched the team's antics. Cait had imbibed plenty of rum herself and Felicity was quite certain her tolerance was rather low, even if Barry had been secretly wining and dining her.

"Huh." Roy tilted his head at the hoop, considering it carefully. Why were they letting him drink? Was he even old enough?

Felicity leaned back on her elbows, crossing her ankles in front of her. "This a ballcourt. The ballgame was extremely important to the Mayans."

"So, this thing is basically a thousand-year-old basketball hoop?" Roy asked, looking half-impressed, half-confused.

"Two-thousand-year-old," Felicity corrected with a smile. "And, yeah, except they hit the ball off their hips and the losers were usually ritually sacrificed."

Roy dropped the stones. "Seriously?"

"Sometimes, they even used the decapitated heads as balls," Oliver added with an eyebrow waggle.

The more Felicity saw the two interact the more she realized Roy was very much Oliver's protégé. Oliver treated him much as Digg had treated Oliver in their early days, simultaneously protective and hard on him, constantly ribbing him, yet understatedly affectionate.

Felicity raised her brows at Oliver and he shrugged. "What? Sometimes, I listened." And she had to suppress a smile, because she knew he listened much more than he pretended to.

"Wait," Curtis added, "that's true?"

Nodding, Felicity looked over at poor Curtis, his glasses askew and his eyes rum glazed. Even his hair was messier than usual, if such a thing was even possible. "Some archaeologists believe so. Though it is much more likely the Aztecs did that. They were a far more blood thirsty group."

"Awesome." Roy made a face, looking around the court, which was the size of a football field with twenty-five-foot-high walls on either side, the full length of the field. "Where did everyone sit?"

Oliver approached him and put an arm around Roy's shoulder and Felicity just knew he was up to something. "See, up there," he pointed to the top of the wide wall. "They stood up there. When things got rowdy they would shove people supporting the losing team over just to see if they would survive the fall."

Roy's eyebrows shot up and he turned to Felicity and Cait with a questioning expression, but as soon as he turned his head, Oliver gave him a shove between the shoulder blades, hard enough for Roy to yelp, but not enough to send him flying.

"Hey!" Roy yelled as Oliver chuckled and Digg high-fived him in approval. And so the legacy went on.

And, while Felicity's heart was warmed just by watching Oliver be playful with Roy, she couldn't let Puppy suffer. "They did not," she told poor horrified Puppy, shooting an unrepentant Oliver a reproving look. "Well, the commoners likely stood up there to watch, but the only sacrifices were the ballplayers and that was likely only on special occasions."

"Some way to celebrate a holiday. Why would anyone want to be a ball player?" Curtis asked, eyeing the hoop with an engineer's critical gaze. Then he jumped when his voice echoed back to him and around the field. "Whoa!"

"The acoustics here are one of the great engineering marvels of all time," Caitlin told him with a nostalgic smile. Ronnie had been absolutely fascinated by the phenomenon. "The Royals and Nobles would sit up there," she pointed to the end of the field where there was a pavilion they were using to store some of their stuff, next to the tents. "They could hear the game perfectly all the way over there."

As they were contemplating the pavilion, Slade emerged from behind it bouncing a large rubber ball the size of a basketball. "Look what I found."

"Slade, did you steal that from the trunk marked 'Sólo Personal?'" Felicity called out, highly suspicious that that was the ball the Park used for reenactments. It looked pretty true to at least the modern version of Mayan ball.

Shrugging unapologetically (and basically admitting it was true), Slade grinned and asked, "Who's up for a game?"

And, apparently, the answer was pretty much everyone. Which was ridiculous since no one had the first clue how to play. Years ago, they had watched re-enactments as a team, but those were on very different courts where the hoop was much lower and attached to a sloped wall, making the whole hip shot much easier to manage.

But regardless, soon Felicity and Caitlin were on the sidelines cheering and laughing, watching their friends take a valiant shot at Mayan Ball and making no move to participate, because there was no way in hell she was going to humiliate herself trying to play this stupid-ass game. Especially when Felicity was watching six of the most athletic and physically gifted people on the planet making complete fools of themselves.

It took them awhile and many many face-plants to figure out how to bounce the heavy ball off of their hips. But the wipe-outs and face-plants soon became part of their game and every time a player hit the ground they had to take another drink (something Felicity was certain was not a part of the original Mayan version). One would think that it would affect their coordination, but it didn't seem to.

The humidity never dipped and eventually the holdouts took off their shirts too. Felicity almost got a face full of rubber ball when Oliver pulled his off and used it to wipe his very sweaty face. Luckily, Cait reached over and snatched the ball before it plowed into her nose.

Oliver frowned when he saw what had happened, slapping his hand on the back of an even drunker Roy's head for the sin of letting the ball fly in her direction. "Watch it!"

Felicity hoped it was actually Roy's fault. She'd been too distracted to see who dropped that particular ball. And, also, was it weird that she thought it was sweet that Oliver still got angry over her almost getting hurt? That was weird, right?

Holding the ball in her hands, Caitlin tested its weight. "This thing is seriously going to bruise, guys."

Felicity frowned, her eyes instantly going to the skin covering Oliver's hip bones, the ones that were now peeking out and driving her insane. "I think the Mayans did have padding or shields or something."

Oliver sauntered (yes, she wasn't making that up, it was a saunter) over and snatched the ball out of Caitlin's hands. But he grinned down at Felicity when he said, "I think we can handle it."

Oh frak. Oliver had clearly caught her eyes wondering and…he didn't seem to mind one bit. Felicity was in so much trouble.

Oliver threw the ball down, hard, causing it to bounce, then jumped, his arms in the air as he hip slammed the ball, sending it flying, and…lord in heaven that should be illegal it was such a gorgeous sight. Without his shirt on…it might as well be porn.

The ball went nowhere near the hoop, however. It just bounced off the wall and someone else caught it with their hip.

Felicity found it a lot less interesting when it was someone else's hip.

After thirty incredibly amusing (and absurdly arousing) minutes of not making a single goal, Caitlin leaned over and whispered into Felicity's ear, "Is this really the way the Mayan's played?"

When her brain caught up with Caitlin's words (Cait couldn't possibly understand how distracting those hip bones were) Felicity's eyes widened, "Ummm…now that you mention it, I think they used their elbows and shoulders too for this particular court."

That sent Caitlin into a fit of giggles that had her rolling on the ground, her face buried in Felicity's lap. It took a while for the players to notice, but when they did Digg turned on them, dripping with sweat (Felicity had to admit, he always looked good without his shirt too. Father figure or not), hands on hips, and leveled them a stare.

"Care to share with the class?"

Felicity confessed the rules she had only just remembered, which lead to a string of curses from Slade that made even Curtis blush, which was a feat given his dark coloring.

Sighing, Sara stepped forward and grabbed the ball. "Fuck this! Let's just get the damn ball in the hoop anyway we can."

Felicity would have called it quits and went to bed, but she supposed this was another way to handle the situation.

"So what are the rules?" Roy asked, sounding game. No one protested. Lord help them all.

One side of Sara's lips tipped up and she gave him a challenging look. "No rules. Two teams. One ball. Whichever team gets the ball in the hoop more times wins."

So…

It was Oliver, Roy, and Curtis vs Digg, Slade, and Sara in what quickly devolved into a game of tackle basketball and Felicity was seriously worried someone was going to have to be medevac'd out of there before this mission ever really started. And if she had thought they wiped out a lot in the first version of this game…this one was downright vicious.

It was fun to watch, Felicity'd give them that. Heaven help the world if network tv ever caught wind to it. The six of them moved so fast, it was hard to keep track of what was going on half the time, but they seemed to be having fun playing. In an insanely competitive, scarily intense way.

Oliver's team was winning. They were all taller on average and had clearly spent more time in a basketball court than Slade and Sara so they had the advantage.

It was after Oliver made his third 'hoop' (and, wow, he could jump and it was beautiful), Roy and Curtis combined had tackled Digg to keep him out of the play and Oliver just out-reached Slade and Sara, slamming the ball through the ring, that was when Slade started gripping, "Goddamn, bloody American giants, the lot of you! This isn't skill! This is fucking…arm span!"

Slade was not a good loser. But then, Sara got a devious look on her face and called her partner over. The next thing they all knew, Sara had climbed on Slade's shoulders and, well…that was when shit got real.

Digg's team started wiping the floor with Oliver's.

Now, Oliver…he was also a competitive man. One might even argue more so than Slade. With every hit Sara nailed from her perch on Slade's shoulders, Oliver's jaw muscles became tighter and tighter and the artery in his temple began to pulse. He was taking this game (this utterly ridiculous game) very seriously.

Oliver's team tried several things to level the playing field, including Curtis on Roy's shoulders (which was as asinine as it sounded). They didn't make a single goal, but they did stumble around humorously until Curtis finally hit the ground. Hard. And at an angle that left Cait wrapping up his Curtis' ankle.

And the big dumb genius? What did he yell? "Whooo hooo…more rum for me!"

God help them if HIVE attacked. Six of them drunk. One with a busted ankle. And at this rate, there were concussions and broken bones looming.

Slade laughed raucously, Sara still smirking from his shoulders. Neither of them seemed to care that they were on a mission with the world held in the balance. Nothing mattered until The Game was called. "Are you ready to admit defeat, mate?"

It didn't look good for Oliver's team. They were behind and now down a teammate, because it was seriously not worth risking Curtis' ankle to win this stupid game and Felicity would have no trouble saying so.

But Oliver shot Slade an over-my-dead-body look and Felicity started to get nervous, because it looked like this game was going to last all night and possibly take a very nasty turn.

What Felicity wasn't expecting was Oliver to turn and stalk over to…

Oh... Dear… God….

Oliver held out his outstretched hands to Felicity. "Come on, Sunshine, we need to kick Slade's cocky ass back to Australia."

Author's Notes:

(More photographs and art for this chapter here)

This chapter was a very tricky balance of too much/too little, when it came to history and details of the game. I'm hoping it made sense, while still not being boring. The Game was incredibly difficult to write (and I hate sports). But my muse told me I had to write a scene where they played ball with Felicity of Oliver's shoulders so…what the muse wants the muse gets. She can be rather unreasonable sometimes.

I have (short) videos of both versions of the Mayan Ball Game, the hip only one on the sloped stadium and the elbow/shoulder version in the Grand Ball Court that this is modeled after. I'm going to put links to both of those on my Tumblr site at the link above.

Fairytalehearts worked damn hard with me on the ball game in this and the next chapter to have in make sense and there are quite a few words in both that are hers, so I send her my unending gratitude. And also to ireland1733 for her unending support, not only with writing and my neuroticism, but when life just sucks.

Thank you everyone who is reading and especially anyone who stops to leave a comment!

Emmy