Facets of Felicity
By Cortexikid
Chapter 2: Crimson
A/N: So, here's chapter two. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Arrow still isn't mine. *Gross sobbing*
"Sixth."
Felicity frowned, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand as Elise sat opposite her, dark orbs narrowed, her eyebrow quirked.
"H-Huh?" the younger woman inquired, another yawn plaguing her.
"Seventh. That's the seventh yawn in ten minutes," Elise tilted her head before heaving a sigh, "you really are overworked aren't you, honey?"
The techie bit her lip, mildly distracted by Gloria's frame dancing around her kitchen, preparing them one of her famous meals. She watched her grandmother for a moment, a soft smile on her face, before her gaze flickered back to the woman in front of her.
"I—I like my job," she hedged around the question, sitting forward in the armchair and resting her elbows on her knees, her voice lowering, "how's Bubbe doing?"
Elise's eyes darted to her wife for a moment, the same soft expression gracing her features before quietly responding, "she's doing better. And don't change the subject."
Felicity nodded, grimacing as her not-so-subtle dodging tactic failed.
"She seemed to take a shine to that boss of yours," Elise continued with a smirk.
The blonde faltered, colour rising in her cheeks as she recalled earlier that day when her grandmother practically accosted Oliver, insisting that he was 'riding her too hard,' which caused the man in question to pause momentarily, offer the elder woman one of his dazzling smiles and without a beat, invite them out to dinner that coming weekend, apparently to give his Girl Friday a well-deserved break and to 'get to know his friend's loved-ones. The smooth, yet deluded bastard. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.
Over the years, Felicity Smoak had been subjected to (and frankly caused) a lot of awkward situations, but her grandmothers and Oliver Queen rubbing elbows was a circumstance she wasn't entirely sure she was prepared for. The consequences could prove to be...interesting, to say the least.
Suppressing a shudder at that thought, she shrugged, "Oliver has that effect on people," she cleared her throat, skipping over that admission quickly, trepidation rising in her chest as she leaned forward, closer to Elise, meeting her gaze as she murmured barely above a whisper, "has there been any change?"
Elise stilled, her posture rigid.
"Felicity—"
"If you just would let me—"
"No."
That one syllable killed any argument that clawed up Felicity's throat.
The two women stared at one another, the soft hum of Gloria dancing around the kitchen being the only sound to break the silence. Both were strong-willed, this far from their first staring contest – but Felicity held out longer than usually as she had gotten in some practice in silent-conversations since their last time however, Oliver proving to be just as talented as Elise Verde in the dead-stare/incredibly-stubborn department.
"Why so serious?" a bad-impersonation of The Joker asked suddenly, drawing their attention to Madam Smoak who was now standing with her hands on her hips, head tilted as she regarded her family.
"You guys watch The Dark Knight again, Bubbe?" Felicity asked, standing up and shaking her head with amusement, knowing it was probably a mistake introducing them to the wonderful worlds of DC and Marvel. It had caused many a debate on which trumped the other in the Verde-Smoak household.
"Heath was a gem, bless his soul," she replied with a small smile, before pointing at the table, "Lissy my darlin' – set the table please. Elise my love – grab the salad."
And so the three women reverted back into the once-nightly-routine of Felicity's youth, each doing their part to make their meal a little special. When she first came to live with them, Felicity found it a little odd, her grandmothers' need to make each dinner a casual but important affair – soaking up each moment of family time. It was fun, interesting, annoying, boring, loving and irritating all at the same time, each dinner unlike the next, a routine yes, but never repetitive.
It was also a time when Gloria could show off her culinary genius, something which Felicity unfortunately didn't inherit much of. She could cook and well sometimes, but nothing compared to her grandmother's standard.
Her wide eyes drank in the food-laden table as it was full to the edges with bright colours and delicious smells, her mouth watering, a fond feeling of nostalgia flooding her veins as Elise and Gloria sat down opposite her, urging her to take the first bite of potato kugel with spring onion and a clove of garlic.
"Umm," she groaned, eyes closing at the glorious taste, "still my favourite dish."
Gloria chuckled, "only the best for my girls."
They descended into light conversation, falling into the familiar banter with ease. The blonde soon found her tiredness slipping away as she took a sip of red wine and listened to her grandparents' 'misadventures of mature-age.'
"And then it hit me. I was actually having a food-fight with a raccoon," Gloria chuckled, regaling them of Ricky – her furry friend that made himself at home in her kitchen cabinet, much to Felicity's amusement.
"But this one" she continued, jerking her head in her wife's direction, "drew the line at all our fun, insisting that little Ricky was dangerous—"
"Raccoons can carry rabies, Ria," Elise sighed for what Felicity guessed was the hundredth time in the probably well-worn argument.
"You know I'm a sucker for beautiful eyes Else...and this little guy, I'm telling ya Lissy, I just wanted to cuddle him, the little smooth criminal. He reminded me so much of Buster," Gloria murmured wistfully, seemingly ignoring any protests from her partner.
Felicity sat back and watched the two squabbling with a fond smile on her face. It was only now that they were here with her that she realized just how deeply she missed them. It was on her third spoonful of homemade trifle (a rare and sought-after treat that was woefully too uncommon in U.S establishments in Felicity's humble opinion) that another well-worn discussion cropped up.
"So...with all your dashing off to do god-knows-what last night, you never did answer my question," the elder Smoak began, rolling her eyes at her granddaughter's forced blank look.
"Don't play dumb honey, it doesn't suit you," she quipped with a narrowing of her eyes before jabbing her fork in the air, "have you, or have you not been on a date in the last six months?"
"Geez Gloria, ease off the girl a little. Didn't we raise her to 'not need no man'?" Elise smirked jokingly, as Felicity snorted.
Gloria faux-glared at her wife for a moment before turning back to her granddaughter, "you know that's not what I meant. All I'm saying is I think you need some lovin' honey. A girl as smart and gorgeous as you can only depend on electronics for so long..." she winked as Elise choked out a laugh and Felicity gasped before smacking the table lightly with her hand.
"Bubbe! What did I say about boundaries?!"
"And what did I say about a healthy sex life?"
"It helps you live longer," Felicity sighed, her face burning with embarrassment, "which has no scientific basis by the way..."
"Well I'm still here, aren't I?" Gloria nudged Elise who spluttered into her wine-glass at their granddaughter's horrified expression.
"And besides," she continued as if she were discussing the weather, "there are studies. I looked it up once on Bing—"
"Because that's reliable," the younger Smoak interjected sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.
"Oh yes, I'm sure my tech-genius granddaughter would highly disapprove of my internet habits," Gloria posited, "but frankly, I'm just worried the same wonderful young woman is being wasted stuck behind a computer screen 24/7."
"I'm fine Bubbe—"
"I mean, that much romantic seclusion can be good for anyone. Unless you plan on converting and becoming a nun?"
Felicity glanced to Elise in exasperation but received a mere shrug and a shake of the head that only someone with years of experience in dealing with Gloria could manage.
"I'm so proud of you Lissy, you know that...I just worry about you in this big city with nobody to share your day with when you come home, that's all," grandmother Smoak continued, taking a moment to stare out the small window to her right.
Felicity opened and closed her mouth a few times as a similar conversation she once had with Oliver resonated, her mind frantically trying to summon up something, anything to sooth the now worried hilt that had seeped into Gloria's tone.
Reaching out, she clasped the older woman's hand and looked her straight in the eye.
"I'm fine, Bubbe. I have work and friends...I am happy. And I always have you and Else," she tried to smile, pushing down the dread that was now clawing in the pit of her stomach as images of her nightly activities flashed before her eyes.
There were so many times in the last two years or so where she ached to pick up the phone and just rant and rave and scream and laugh and cry until the adrenaline of whatever craziness she experienced that day eventually wore off.
But she didn't.
Couldn't.
It wasn't just about protecting Oliver's secret, but her own too. Her involvement with The Arrow and the affect that involvement could have on her loved ones. She never talked about it to Oliver or Diggle but she had grown up with practically only these two women left in her life. They not only raised her, but were her entire world, and in some cases, still were. They helped shape her into who she was today and encouraged her to add layers to herself, explore and find new aspects of herself and supported her all the way even when she told them she wanted to move away, attend an expensive college that (with their help) she still had to work three jobs to afford, and eventually find a job in a large far-away city all by herself.
If they were ever to discover that not only was she so far away from them working her ass off and according to Gloria, not chasing enough tail, but was also risking her life by aligning herself with a arrow-wielding vigilante/supposed billionaire playboy/Bambi-legged CEO that had more than once caused her to become injured and/or held captive?
Yeah. There wouldn't be a man, woman or child that could stop Gloria Elizabeth Smoak from opening a whole can of whoop ass on anybody and everybody involved.
Including Oliver.
And honestly? She wouldn't be one bit surprised if she could take him from sheer force of will. The woman was a weapon all by herself, no doubt.
"What was the name of that boy you were telling me about the other day?" Gloria was saying as Felicity snapped out of her reverie, pushing away images of her ninja-clad grandmother going all Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon on a very puzzled, arrowed-up Oliver.
"Tyson? Tyler? Oh that's it, Tyler O'Brien! He is such a nice boy—"
"He was my crush in the ninth grade, Bubbe," Felicity interjected, sharing a quick glance with Elise who began clearing the table.
Gloria frowned at her granddaughter for a moment, an unreadable but familiar expression on her face, before shaking her head.
"Oh yes, of course. Well, regardless, he was a lovely young man. Perhaps you should look him up on that FacePage..."
Felicity shifted in her chair, nodding along before Elise caught her eye again.
"I think it's time for bed, my old ass can't take these chairs anymore," she said as she tapped her wife's shoulder, "come on love, me and Lissy got the room all ready when you were cooking."
Gloria stood up, smiling widely at Elise, kissing her gently before walking over to Felicity and hugging her tightly. The younger woman squeezed back, her eyes sliding shut, tension draining from her body at the well-known sensation and the subtle scent of the floral perfume she loved so much. After a moment, Gloria stood back, brushing a golden tendril of hair away from Felicity's face.
"I'm still not used to the new hair," she smiled softly, before dropping her hand and kissing her cheek, "goodnight bubbala," she murmured before turning on her heel and making her way into the bedroom.
Felicity watched her go for a moment before she felt something being thrust into her hands. Turning her head, she met Elise's pointed gaze before glancing down and seeing the familiar product in her hands.
"You think it'll be one of those nights?" she asked dejectedly as the woman in front of her visibly deflated.
"Better safe than sorry," came the soft reply, before Elise kissed her on the cheek too, offering a quiet goodnight and leaving her alone in her living room/kitchen area.
Staring down at the box in her hands, Felicity shook her head of golden tresses and silently wondered what the guys would think of her going back to her original roots. Literally.
Well, she shrugged, walking towards her bathroom, only one way to find out...
He couldn't keep his eyes off her.
Every time he turned, she was just there; taunting him silently with her new (old) hair colour and it was driving him—
He had to get a hold of himself.
"You know, you're not the most subtle of people," she suddenly piped up, tearing her eyes away from the screens and looking up at him, her eyebrow quirked.
His heart skipped a beat. Had he been caught?
"What?" he asked, feigning very-obviously-fake innocence.
"I know what you're trying to do with this dinner tomorrow night, Oliver," she continued, her tone suggesting suspicion.
Phew. Guess this wasn't going to be about the fact that his eyes had been glued to her and her hair for the last solid hour. If Dig's smirk was anything to go by however, he'd bet that not everybody was as oblivious to his reaction to the auburn luscious locks his Girl Wednesday was now sporting.
"Enlighten me," he quipped, finding it easy to slip into their familiar banter, "just what am I doing with this dinner tomorrow night, Felicity?"
Her eyes narrowed at him, the glare of the screens reflecting off her glasses as she tilted her head at him.
"You're trying to be your I-can-charm-the-pants-off-any-breathing-human-being-with-my-illustrious-wealth-and-abundance-of...charm, self" she paused, a crinkle forming in between her eyebrows at the repetition.
"And why," Oliver asked with a small grin, walking around her and halting at her side, leaning against the desk, arms folded, "would I do such a thing?"
She gave him a 'are you kidding me?!' roll of her eyes before heaving a deep sigh.
"Because you wanna dig up as much embarrassing dirt on Your Girl Friday as you possibly can," Diggle interjected helpful with a teasing smirk directed at the girl in question.
She gestured at him agreeably before turning her attention back to Oliver.
"Hey," he held up his hands in surrender, "can you blame me for being a little curious? We've known each other over two years now Felicity, and I know hardly anything about your family..." he trailed off with a defiant quirk of his eyebrow.
"Oh yeah because you're an open book," she muttered under her breath, a hint of frustration in her tone that he didn't fail to pick up on.
"At least you've met all my family," he responded, watching as her eyes widened, clearly realising her remark hadn't gone unnoticed.
Something sank in her gut as she determined he was right. She may not like it, but tomorrow night Oliver Queen was going to sit down with her grandparents. In the same room. At the same table. For over an hour at least. With alcohol present. And did she mention Gloria Smoak would be there? 'Cause she would. Every feisty, nosey, meddling 4'11" of her.
"Hey, what's the worst that can happen?" Diggle asked, looking back and forth between his friends, Felicity's face crumpling with dread, Oliver's his usual default emotionless mug a little more animated than usual.
They both turned to him, speaking in unison:
"You've jinxed it now, Dig!"
"It'll be fun, Dig!"
Billy 'Lurch' McCabe was not a patient man. Nor an athletic man. Hence the sweat stains and sheen glistening on the large bald spot he often fought and failed to cover. He may not have the physique of his nickname's sake (instead being rounder and shorter) but he was just as physically imposing, his dark, beady eyes having a deadness to them, dull even in the most animated of situations. If anyone asked, he wasn't a particularly nice man either. But nobody dared ask. If you had to ask, it was already too late.
He wasn't one to get his hands dirty. He had guys for that. The only time he'd ever put in an appearance at a trash-clearance (the disposal of anyone that pissed him off) was if the guy in question was someone like Grant Delano.
Grant Delano had been McCabe's money guy since the good ol' days. They had an understanding, a quid pro quo, so to speak. Billy's guys kept any and all thugs away from Delano's place and Delano laundered Billy's dirty money in his many laundrettes in and out of Starling City. It was a good understanding, one that worked for over a decade. Until Grant started going broke. Until he stashed some of McCabe's money for himself. Until he was caught red-handed by McCabe's number two, Tony.
"Bill, Billy please," the laundrette owner was sobbing as he was pushed down onto his knees, the cold metal pressed against the base of his skull, digging into his salt and pepper hair.
"We gotta do this under the radar...we don't want that Robin Hood-wannabe crashing in all arrow-happy, got it?" McCabe ignored his old friend's pleas, his dark, dead eyes meeting Tony's before giving a very slight nod of his head.
A single shot rang out in the cold, December air and Grant Delano was no more.
Glancing down, the business mogul wiped a speck of crimson from his lapel, rubbing the liquid between his fingers, his head tilted pensively.
"Clean this up..." he gestured to the body with thinly-veiled disgust, "then go wait for the shipment."
"Yes Sir," Tony replied obediently, nodding to one of the others who stepped forward and began helping him drag the dead man away, a fresh trail of blood left in its wake.
The shrill pitch of a cell phone broke the sound of shuffling of the clean-up-crew. With a soft sigh, Billy reached into his pocket and retrieved the offending object, a smirk spreading across his face as he saw the familiar name flashing across his screen. He clicked the accept button quickly and spoke charmingly into the phone, honey dripping from his tone:
"Moira Queen, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Well, aren't these beautiful?" Gloria Smoak remarked, gaping at the bouquet of flowers Oliver Queen handed her as he helped her out of Felicity's car.
"Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman," he replied without a beat, catching Felicity's eye-roll from his peripheral vision.
"Easy now young man, I'm a happily married woman," Gloria faux-scolded him with a tap to his chest, before her eyes bulged, clearly impressed by the wall of steel his chest proved to be.
She whispered a soft "wow, good for you Mr Queen" under her breath, winking at Felicity who ducked her head, no doubt wishing for the ground to swallow her whole.
Oliver hid his grin behind his hand, before producing another bouquet and handing them to Elise, "I hear you're a happily married woman...but you can't blame a guy for trying, right?"
Elise chuckled, taking the flowers, "you are quite the charmer, aren't you?"
"So I've heard," Oliver replied, staring right at Felicity who quickly broke eye contact.
Gloria glanced between her granddaughter and the CEO of Queen Consolidated for a moment, a indistinguishable expression on her face, before clapping her hands and gesturing to the door, "shall we?"
They all made their way towards the restaurant, a quaint, four-star establishment, known for great yet inexpensive food and light entertainment. Felicity had to admit, when Oliver suggested dinner, Angelo's, though lovely, was not the type of place she thought they'd be dining.
"Something wrong?" Oliver asked, catching his friend's frown as they made their way indoors.
She shook her head, glancing around the familiar surroundings.
"Nothing. It's just that...I didn't expect you'd pick one of my favourite restaurants," she shrugged off her coat, shivering as she felt Oliver stand behind her, his fingers lightly trailing her skin as he caught her garment in his hands.
"Well, someone brought it to my attention that I tend to charm-the-pants-off-any-breathing-human-being-with-my-illustrious-wealth-and-abundance-of...charm," he smirked as she bit her lip, her own words reflected back to her, "but..." he continued, "something tells me that some stuffy, overly-expensive restaurant isn't gonna charm the pants off Gloria Smoak and Elise Verde."
"You want my grandmothers pant-less?" she asked, groaning as her brain caught up to her.
"You know what I mean," she shook her head at his small smile.
"I—" he broke off, suddenly not meeting her gaze, as if stuck on what to say.
"I just...want your grandparents to like m—the many wonderful places that Starling City has to offer. And most expensive, doesn't always mean best. That's all," he cleared his throat before gesturing for her to walk ahead of him and follow Diggle and the ladies to their table.
Felicity fell in step behind her grandmothers, trying not to think about how close Oliver was standing behind her and how much thought he had put into tonight, no matter how pleasant that warm feeling settling into her stomach felt.
Once seated, the party fell into comfortable conversation as they browsed the appetizer menu.
Oliver took this opportunity to glance around the table, his eyes falling on the woman sitting opposite him, her newly auburn hair shinning in the softly-lit room. She looked beautiful, her simple navy dress and heels somehow enhanced by her deep crimson lipstick that he couldn't tear his eyes from. But it wasn't just her physical beauty that captivated him. It was her intelligence, her wit, her strong will, her fearlessness and her determination, everything that made Felicity – Felicity, was calling to him.
She was mesmerizing. In every way.
At that thought, he shook his head, trying in vain to rid those ideas from his mind, again finding himself locked in an inner battle with himself and his ever-growing feelings for his friend/partner-in-crime-fighting/Girl Wednesday.
I just think it's better to not to be with someone I could really care about...
Those same damn words that he uttered to her so long ago reverberated in his ears, they being a mantra of sorts for longer now than he was willing to admit.
And honestly, the more time he spent with her, the more he got to know her, with every passing day he felt the pull towards her become that little bit stronger and those words become a little bit quieter.
And whether he was willing to admit it or not, it was that pull that was part of the reason why he wanted this dinner with her grandparents in the first place. Why he could feel the icy sense of nerves flooding his veins, a sensation he can't remember having ever before.
He wanted to get to know her family. And for her family to get to know him. The real him. Well, part of the real him at least and not just the billionaire-playboy-with-a-shady-past him.
And that terrified him.
All the denial in the world couldn't hide the fact that it wouldn't be this important to him if Felicity was still 'just a friend.'
Damn it. Why did he listen to Dig again? The man was getting into his head...
"Oh come on, why not? It's delicious!" Gloria's voice was a welcome distraction from his conflicted thoughts as he was dragged back into the present by the grandmother/granddaughter discussion of appetizers.
"No grandma," Felicity was saying with a wave of her hand, "I can't have that remember? I'm allergic to nuts."
"Me too honey," Gloria replied, sharing a knowing glance with Elise before erupting into laughter.
Oliver hid a smile behind his napkin as Diggle chuckled and Felicity's cheeks shone bright red.
It was official. This was the best family dinner ever.
A/N: So there's chapter two! I just want to remind the readers that this is a future fic so some time has passed for our trio and feelings etc. have deepened for our Olicity – hence Oliver's little introspection. Things shall progress from there :) Hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanzaa/Holiday Season and a Happy New Year to you all! ~Ck x
NEXT CHAPTER TEASER:
"I'm more of a Natasha Romanoff red than a Ginny Weasley red."
At his puzzled look, she heaved a weary sigh.
"Seriously Oliver, I swear you get more like Clint Barton every day."