Chapter Summary: Oliver meets Felicity in Vegas six years earlier, when he's nothing more than a confused playboy, and she's far too young for him to be looking at.

AN: The whole Felicity grew up in Vegas thing has given me endless plotbunnies! So here's one of them. It ended up a little more melancholy than I intended it...

Also I think I probably adjusted her age? I simply don't buy that they're only 2 years apart on the show. Nope. There had to be more of a difference for this to work.

One other thing, the only Felicity I've ever known in real life was always called Fliss for short. And since I really hate 'Lissy' I think I'm going to start using it!


Oliver Queen's 21st birthday was as big and out of control as everyone had assumed it would be. Held in Vegas, a bunch of trust fund babies and socialites drank more alcohol and lost more money than was remotely respectable.

The only unexpected aspect of the whole affair, was how little Oliver enjoyed himself. Maybe it was because he'd just broken up with Laurel again, the week before, or maybe it was because the arrival of his 21st year meant the arrival of adulthood, responsibilities, everything he didn't want to be thinking about.

It was a three-day party at Caesar's Palace, and on the first night, Oliver Queen was as predictable as you can get. He drank half the bar, started a fight with a card dealer and ended the night with a showgirl in his bed.

The second day dawned bright and early with a hangover of epic proportions. He spent most of the day by the pool with sunglasses on and headphones in, blocking out the rest of the world and trying to ignore the cloying emptiness he always felt after a night of partying that hard.

The evening found him alone at one of the hotel's many bars, staring morosely into a glass of bourbon. He wasn't really sure what had him so down, there wasn't any particular emotion that he could put his finger on, simply a restless sense of dissatisfaction.

He didn't notice the blonde approaching the bar, until he heard the keep call out a greeting.

"Hey Fliss! Ginger beer while you wait?"

Oliver turned to take in the new arrival; a petite blonde with pink glasses pushed up into her hair, holding long curls off her face. She was beautiful. Her face clean of makeup aside from a sweep of pink lip gloss, casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a tank top, she was a refreshing sight amongst the throngs of overly done up, plastic girls he'd encountered over the last 24 hours.

She didn't even glance at him as she took a seat on a stool on the other end of the bar. A tall glass of soda was placed in front of her and she smiled her thanks at the bartender. 'Brian' according to his nametag.

"How'd you do today?" He asked, winking conspiratorially at the girl, who laughed lightly and began to fish around in her bag.

She pulled out a stack of chips and held them up for him to see.

"Two grand!"

"Wow! Is it getting easier, or are you getting better?"

"A little bit of both."

She shoved the chips back into her purse and took a gulp of her drink.

"You seen my mom today?"

The warmth that had been dancing in her eyes dimmed slightly as she asked.

Brian shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable as he answered.

"Once or twice."

The girl narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth as though to question him some more, before she sighed heavily and shook her head, her golden hair dancing prettily over her shoulders.

"I'm guessing I don't want to know?" She murmured, just a trace of bitterness coloring her tone.

The bartender gave her a sympathetic smile but didn't answer.

"She said she'd be here by ten." She glanced at the colorful watch on her wrist and bit her lip. "I'll give her an hour."

Brian nodded and patted her shoulder briefly, before turning to move on down the bar. "Holler if you need anything Fliss." He called as he walked away.

Oliver was too tired and drunk to try and analyze their conversation, but all he knew was that the sadness painted on her pretty face looked wrong. He wanted to see her smiling, because in that brief moment when she'd laughed just a few minutes earlier, his heart had leapt in a way it hadn't in years.

He wasn't sure why he was still watching her. She was obviously quite young, and he had no intention of tainting her light with his destructive hands. But the way her hair shone like the sun, the way her face changed from expression to expression so quickly, the way her teeth sunk into her rosy lips, the way she picked at the coaster in front of her, the way she kept glancing at her watch, her brows pulling together into the cutest frown he'd ever seen… It was all like balm to his sore eyes. And he found himself reluctant to look away.

He got away with it for nearly ten minutes before she looked up and noticed his gaze. He was surprised it had taken her so long. Most people could feel eyes on them, but she'd been completely unaware.

His eyes met her soft blues for just a second, and he thought he could probably drown in their sweetness. But then they dropped to the bar and she shifted in her seat, her arms wrapping around her torso and her mouth hardening.

"Before you say anything. I know exactly who you are, so you should know that I'm seventeen, and you spent last night with my mom's best friend. If you even try to hit on me, I'll punch you. Or I'll get Brian to punch you, or… Well someone will punch you!"

He smiled despite himself and held his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not going to hit on you. I promise. And I didn't mean to scare you it's just… You're the most genuine person I've seen in a while. It was refreshing." He trailed off and watched as she turned back to look at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Sorry." He mumbled, dropping his gaze to his now empty glass.

He shouldn't have had whiskey. It always made him melancholy. Tommy couldn't stand him when he'd been drinking bourbon, he said he ended up sounding like a depressed philosopher.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I made an assumption, but I have to be pretty cautious around here. Some guys can be real sleazebags." Her voice was softer, gentle and it washed over him like a warm breeze on a cool evening.

He hadn't been expecting her to say anything. In fact, he'd been expecting her to jump up and leave. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had. But when he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she was smiling, her body turned towards his, her defensive posture dropped.

"If you're looking for genuine people, I don't think you came to the right place." She said lightly.

"Probably not." He agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"So how come Oliver Queen's sitting alone at a bar and not off vying for another showgirl?" She asked curiously, her eyes lacking the judgment he'd expected to see.

"Has the whole casino heard about that already?" He wondered how many videos of him stumbling around like a drunken idiot had been uploaded to the web so far. That was something to look forward to when he returned home.

"Yeah pretty much. Her name's Jasmine, she used to babysit me. She's very sweet… If a little loose." She shrugged and wrinkled her nose slightly, in a gesture that could only be described as adorable. "At least it wasn't my mother though." She shuddered.

"Yeah." He agreed, just a little too adamantly. "And uh- in answer to your question… I honestly don't know."

"You don't know why you're not trying to sleep with another showgirl, or you don't know why you're sad?"

She'd moved a few stools closer, and was sitting only a couple of feet away from him now.

He wanted to bury himself in her light.

"Who says I'm sad?" He asked, holding her gaze, soaking up as much of her warmth as he could while he had the chance.

"Your eyes." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. But the hushed words hit him hard. His chest ached because he'd never heard it spoken out loud, he'd never even admitted it to himself. Because he was sad. He was a spoilt, pampered, womanizing, jerk. But he was sad. Somewhere underneath all the coats of arrogance, carelessness and money, something was missing. And it hurt.

He stumbled to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, his breathing quickened and the room spun oddly before his eyes. He could vaguely hear her voice calling his name, but the constricted feeling in his chest wouldn't go away and he wasn't sure what the hell was wrong with him.

But then a small, warm hand grasped his, delicate fingers brushing against his humming skin.

And then the world came back into focus and all he could see was her. A little golden haired angel in a sea of confusion.

"Sorry." He rasped out. "I think I've had too much to drink."

"No, I'm sorry. I had no right to say that, it was way out of line! I have no brain to mouth filter."

Her hand was still in his, and he squeezed it gently, his eyes finding hers and holding her worried gaze.

"Genuine, remember? It's refreshing."

She smiled and the coil in his chest loosened a notch.

"Felicity!"

A woman's voice interrupted them and they both turned, her hand falling from his.

Felicity. The name fit her well.

"Hey mom. You ready?" Her stance changed, an arm wrapped back around her torso and her fingers nagged at the hem of her top.

She grabbed her bag from the bar and smiled up at him.

"It was nice to meet you Oliver." She said quietly, her voice dropping to a whisper as she added; "Happy Birthday." Her hand found his again, for just a second before it was gone and she was turning away. Joining her mother and walking out of his life before he managed to say any of the things he wanted to.

He went back to his room alone that night. Because all he could think about was a pretty girl who's hair shone almost as bright as her soul.


He didn't see her again for six years. Until one day, he walked into the IT department at Queen Consolidated, battle scars and all, and came face to face with a beautiful blonde with wide blue eyes and a light that glowed brighter than ever.

"Felicity Smoak."

She looked up and he smiled, because he'd recognize her anywhere. The girl in the bar in Vegas who'd shown him such kindness, who'd even for just one night, healed a little bit of his soul.

She was older, but she'd barely changed, her lips were painted pink, her hair shone like the sun and just as it had all those years before, her beauty washed over him like a warm breeze on a cold day.


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