My dear readers, this past week Jon Schmidt of the Piano Guys searched for his daughter, who has been missing for almost two weeks now. I don't know him personally but his music has inspired many a chapter and story for this little monkey, including their cover of Home which helped inspire this little fic. If everyone could just maybe take a second and send a prayer or a thought to his family, I'd appreciate it. This man and his music have inspired me beyond belief and I cannot even imagine the heartache that they must be enduring. This chapter is dedicated to the Schmidt family: children completely change our lives and there is truly no pain as acute as the loss of someone who so completely holds our hearts.

The song for this chapter is I Get To Love You by Ruelle.

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Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Arrow or its characters.

Chapter Eight: I Get To Love You

Felicity woke the next morning feeling well rested for the first time in weeks. She stretched groggily under the weight of her covers and then stiffened. Norah! She hadn't gotten up to feed her last night! She threw back the covers but stopped when the sound of tiny giggles and masculine noises drifted through the barely open door.

Oliver had come over last night.

It rushed back to her. His showing up out of the blue. His impassioned speech about wanting her –yes, her –and Norah in his life. He'd held her while she completely broken down from exhaustion and a lack of personally hygiene and sleep. He'd cleaned the apartment and cooked for her. She didn't remember falling asleep but he must have tucked her in and gotten up with Norah during the night. She grabbed her fuzzy robe from behind the door and moved out into the bright front room quietly. The sight melted her already tender heart.

Oliver was on all fours, hovering over Norah who was lying on her back under him. He would go down into a push up and rub his nose against hers before pulling up again while she giggled helplessly in her tiny voice. Every three or four push-ups, he would pause to chuckle at her or rub his nose against her belly, earning more giggles from her. Felicity smiled softly at Norah's flailing arms, certainly meant to grab Oliver's face but lacking coordination. After a few minutes, Oliver sat up laughing softly and noticed Felicity. He grinned, scooping Norah up into his arms and walking over to her.

"Look who's up, Norah. It's Mommy," he said excitedly. Norah gazed at Felicity and then broke into a toothless grin. Felicity took her from Oliver and pressed a kiss to her head, holding her closely. "We've already had breakfast, a bath and two diaper changes. I didn't know something so gross could come out of something so cute," Oliver said, grimacing slightly. Felicity laughed, tears pricking at her eyes. "If you come into the kitchen, there's coffee and bagels for you." He led the way while Felicity followed behind, murmuring quietly to Norah, who was cooing loudly. Once there, Oliver scooped the baby from her arms and pressed a mug of fresh coffee into her hands.

"Thank you, Oliver. This was… a lot. Too much. It seems like too much to ask of you after basically letting you believe I didn't want to see you anymore."

"It's not," he said and the seriousness in his eyes silenced any argument on her tongue. His eyes were resolute and in them she saw a whole future involving the both of them with Norah and little Queens and that frightened her a bit. Felicity Smoak was a poster child for bad relationships. Her college boyfriend had been arrested by the FBI and then died in prison and she didn't even want to muster up the thought of the boys she'd made trouble with in high school. Caitlin said it was because she had text book abandonment issues and Felicity couldn't argue that. When your own father walks away from you without a second thought or even an explanation, you tend to get self-esteem issues. Oliver Queen was unreal. He was literally the whole package: handsome, well-off, successful, responsible, compassionate, funny, loyal. And he wanted her? It didn't add up for her. Sure she was pretty and she was obviously smart. But she was also insecure, babbled a disgusting amount when she was nervous –which happened a lot – and just overall felt like a hot mess. Oliver Queen could surely do better.

But he wanted her.

Not just her; he wanted Norah as well. He had promised to love them both for as long as she would let him –and honestly, even if she told him no he would still probably love them. She was being handed a golden opportunity to love and share herself with a truly rare specimen of man. She didn't understand why he wanted her so much but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted him. She wanted Oliver Queen the way she had wanted Norah. She wanted the opportunity to treat him as well as he treated her, to love him as much if not more than he loved her. She wanted to support him when he needed someone in his corner and she wanted to celebrate his successes with him. And just like Norah, she understood how precious he was, how lucky she was to be chosen by him.

"Felicity?" His voice jerked her from her thoughts and she looked up at him sheepishly. "I asked what you wanted to do today." He was smiling down at her warmly.

"What do you say we spend the day in? We can all get to know each other better," she said, smiling as Norah laid her head against his chest and her eyes grew heavy. "Besides, I think you already wore this little princess out." He awkwardly looked down at the small head against him and smiled.

"We had a busy morning," he said in mock seriousness. He leaned down, one large hand holding Norah's head steady against him and he placed a sweet kiss on Felicity's lips. "I will go put this one to bed for her nap and then you and I can have some alone time together." He walked away and Felicity smiled into her coffee mug, tempted to pinch herself.

Felicity might have fallen in love with Oliver Queen no matter what, but she was sure that seeing how much he loved her daughter after one night convinced her that she was on a fast track to being completely smitten with this man.