Felicity keeps a low profile at the convention, nervous about attracting too much attention. She waits for major panels to be underway before adventuring into the vendor's hall to explore, hoping the crowds are thinner and less perceptive. She winds her way through the rows of booths, stopping to gawk at the exclusive products and limited edition collectibles. She admires the intricate displays at major studio booths... Marvel has statues of their most anticipated new villains and screens running trailers on a loop. Lionsgate and Summit have their newest young adult adaptation stamped all over their booth, leaving little room for their indie films, of which Felicity starred in a supporting role of one. She sighs.There's a reason studios cast stars like Oliver Queen and make blockbusters...
She's made her way to the back of the hall, finding secluded booths with unknown artists, authors and other creators. She peruses an indie comic book vendor, gathering a few titles in her arms that seem worthwhile. She goes to pay, finding the college-age, bespectacled cashier trembling as she rings up the issues.
"You're... Felicity Smoak, right?" The cashier leans in and whispers her name discreetly, much to Felicity's approval. There aren't a lot of shoppers around, but the consideration this girl shows for Felicity's privacy is beyond what most fans might have shown.
Felicity nods, smiling. "Yes."
The girls giggles and turns around. She looks to make sure no one is paying attention, then digs out a small object from under the table. "No one ever comes around here," she says as she faces Felicity once more. "I know it is unprofessional of me -not to mention against the rules for vendors- but can you sign this for me?" She hold up a mass market paperback. A novelization of the first season of Felicity's show. It is worn and clearly a favorite. The girl opens up to the title page and Felicity sees signatures from other cast members.
"Of course I can sign it! Got a pen?"
The girl nods enthusiastically and pulls out a red pen; the same red pen Felicity's character always has tucked behind her ear in intense hacking scenes. Felicity blushes and signs her name with a flourish, then leaves a little smiley face beside it -her usual personal touch. She hands it back to the girl. "Here ya go. By the way, I love your glasses." She points to her own with a smile.
"They are so much more comfortable than others, right?"
Felicity nods. "They rarely fall down your nose!"
They nod and giggle, then she continues to ring up the comics. With a few more comments and a quick goodbye, Felicity leaves the booth, her heart warm. She loves fan encounters, but loves the spontaneous personal ones the most. She glances down at her Betsey Johnson watch and feels a wave of panic. "Press junket in five minutes, Smoak! Move your ass!" she hisses as she starts running to the nearest exit.
She rushes through a hallway lined with small rooms marked for press interviews. She glances at each sign, looking for one displaying her show's logo. The hallway feels endless and her feet are starting to ache. Why do I always choose to wear heels!? She finally catches sight of her room and comes to halt by the door, breathing heavily and feeling a slight hint of sweat on her brow. I really need to work out more often... or lay off the mint chip... or both. Probably both. She allows her breathing to level out and her heart to slow from its rapid pace before entering the room. Her fellow cast members are seated next to the producers at small round tables scattered around the room.
Felicity finds her seat next to Roy Harper just as they open the door for the journalists. He gives her a little nudge. "Where the hell were you?"
She holds up the bag of comics before hiding it under the table. "Shopping," she murmurs. She smooths out the wrinkles, straightens her necklace and takes a deep breath as the first set interviewers take their seats. Everyone introduces themselves and then the questions start flying. Most are directed at the producers at first. Thank goodness... Felicity thinks, leaning back in her chair in a way that is not professional. Roy looks over at her and frowns, letting out a disapproving cough. She sighs quietly and sits back up, the picture of perfect posture.
"Miss Smoak," one of the interviewers begins, turning her voice recorder in Felicity's direction. "The world is talking about your interaction with Oliver Queen at the mixed actors panel this morning. Have the two of you met previously?"
Felicity smiles politely, trying to hide her annoyance. "No. We haven't met previously."
"Do you think it's a possibility that he could guest star on the show? He seemed quite eager."
"I'm not really the one to ask about that," Felicity answers, then points to the producer on the other side of Roy. "I think you want to direct that question to that guy."
The interviewer turns her recorder back to the producer. "Is it a possibility?"
"As of now, I don't think so. But, we haven't started filming yet, so I can't really say for sure. I had no idea he was even a fan of the show. If there's any way we can get him on, that would be fantastic. But nothing has even been discussed."
The recorder turns back to Felicity. "Would you like to work with him?"
"I'd be crazy if I didn't," Felicity laughs, then folds her hands in front of her on the table. "But, of course, I think it'd be best to discuss the show and not the brilliance of Oliver Queen."
Felicity watches as the woman's eyes grow wide at the comment, then directs a few questions at Roy and the budding romance of their characters on the show. Felicity feels a sense of pride in herself. If only you could handle more reporters like that, Smoak!
After a couple hours, the press junket ends and Felicity stands, stretching her legs. Beside her, Roy leans forward in his seat to tie his custom red and black Converse. She clears her throat, causing him to look up at her. "Yes?"
"So," she begins excitedly. "I was thinking about heading up to Old Town for some Mexican food and awesome tequila. Cheap margaritas all over the place! Wanna join?"
He stands and they make their way out of the room and back out to the endless hallway of high heels hell. "You were gonna go there alone?"
"I assumed you'd join me no matter what."
He laughs. "Well, I wouldn't miss out on the tequila," he says, then nods. "Of course I'll join. What time?"
"How about six?"
"Six for what?" a voice asks, and Felicity stops dead in her tracks. How does this keep happening!?
She spins around awkwardly to find Oliver Queen standing an almost inappropriately close distance for her, smirking. His expression sends of wave of nerves through her and she can feel the word-vomit that could have escaped her at the panel bubbling up. She gulps it down before speaking. "We're going to Old Town for some food and margaritas later."
He looks down at her and she can sense his desperate need to feel normal. "Can I join?" he asks, his eyes almost begging, hopeful. She has to look away before his blue gaze crushes her. Knowing a minimal amount about him, she assumes people rarely reject or deny him. Coming from a rich family and being the heir to a Fortune 500 company implies a lavish life with very little to worry about. He can't know what it's like to be told 'no.' She wonders what it might be like to tell him no; something tells her it might be satisfying and then instantly something she will regret.
She looks back up at his eyes still boring into her and she starts feeling really giddy and lightheaded. Stop it, Smoak! Get it together! "If you wanna join us, meet us at the Old Town Tequila Factory at six."
With that, she leaves him there, waving goodbye to Roy as she walks away in a hurry.
She digs through her luggage, searching for a suitable outfit. Even though she had simply given Oliver Queen the option of joining them, she knows without a doubt that he'll be there waiting for them. She can sense it. And the disinterested manner of their exchange now feels like a flirty playing-hard-to-get that she hadn't intended. Or did I? she wonders as she holds up a bright pink spaghetti strap top. She stands in front of the mirror, holding the top up against her. "Perfect!"
She pairs it with a pair of black skin-tight jeans, then starts rifling through the small collection of jewelry she brought with her. She finds a simple pair of drop earrings puts them on, admiring the small gemstones as they shimmer in the hotel room light. She tugs on the jeans, then slips the top on, smoothing the fabric against her chest and stomach to get the wrinkles out.
"Why does he even want to go?" she asks as she tosses aside lonely pairs of shoes in her search for a specific pair of wedge heels. Finally locating them, she puts them on and stands, enjoying the sensation of height. While she might be average height, compared to the rest of Hollywood, she was tiny. Compared to Oliver Queen... she begins to think, then shakes her head. "Nope. Don't do it. Don't fantasize about a man who is clearly interested in working with you and might hang out with you and your friends..." She begins to pace, unable to keep images of Oliver Queen shirtless from her mind. "No! Stop it, Smoak! Ugh! I really need to stop talking to myself."
She touches up her make-up, adding a dash of blush to each cheek and her signature pink lipstick, dabbing her lips with a tissue to lighten the shade slightly. She eyes herself in the mirror, checking for any holes or stains, both of which are common on her clothes. Finding nothing amiss, she grabs her clutch and makes her way out of the room.
Throughout the elevator ride down, she forces herself not to think of Oliver Queen. She runs through potential questions she'll get at tomorrow's official show panel. She runs her fingers through her hair, already finding tangles. She adjusts her glasses without them needing any adjustment. The doors slide open and she scurries out and toward the entrance. She picks up her car from valet and begins the harrowing journey through San Diego traffic. These are the moments I wish I didn't always insist on forgoing the town car, she thinks as she gets stuck in a traffic jam on the freeway mere minutes away from the Old Town exit. Good thing I left early.
Once the worst of the traffic has passed, she finally exits the perils of the freeway and makes her way up surface streets to Old Town. She parks a few blocks away, down a side street to avoid paying for parking. "They probably wouldn't have charged me," she murmurs as she fumbles with her keys in an attempt to stuff them into her clutch. The pain in her feet isn't as strong as it was earlier in the day, but she can still feel it. "I need alcohol."
Once surrounded by the buildings of Old Town, she makes were way to the vendors, enjoying the handmade products and stereotypical near-the-Mexican-border souvenirs. No one seems to be paying her much attention. A few people spot her, but they don't make a move for autographs or pictures. She smiles to herself, happy to know that her fans are so thoughtful. This makes her wonder how the evening might go if Oliver Queen decides to join them. Paparazzi everywhere. Squealing fans. She shudders, her nervousness building. She glances at her watch and sees it is almost time to meet everyone. She turns and makes her way to her chosen restaurant. From a considerable distance, she can already see him standing there, waiting. Shit...
"I thought you'd be one of those who would be here early," Oliver Queen says with a laugh as she finally arrives.
"I got here early, but I just walked around for a little while. I love this place."
He nods. "It's been years since I've been here."
They stand in awkward silence for a few moments, looking at one another. Felicity breaks their connection and looks at her watch. "Roy is always late," she says, wiping a smudge from the watch-face. "And another friend of mine, Caitlin Snow, won't be here until a little later."
Oliver chuckles. "Well, I hope it's okay that I invited a friend as well...?"
She nods. "Of course it's okay. The more the merrier." With that, Roy appears from around the corner, still dressed in his press junket suit. "You couldn't change before?"
He raises an eyebrow at her. "When I look like this?"
All three of them laugh. Roy and Oliver shake hands and exchange a few comments, most of which Felicity ignores as she glances around, wondering who Oliver might have invited. The streets and shops are beginning to overflow with crowds and her anxiousness grows at a faster rate. If anyone notices Oliver Queen... the night will be ruined. As she scans the sidewalks, she catches sight of a behemoth of a man with an amused smirk etched across his face. She instantly recognizes him. "You invited John Diggle!?" she hisses, slapping Oliver's arm. Roy spins around in shock, then gives Felicity a sideways glance that tells her he wants them to invite Oliver Queen everywhere.
"Yeah. Is that okay? He was in town for the convention and I thought he'd be a nice addition."
John Diggle waves toward them and Oliver returns the gesture as he walks up to his friend. His friend John-effing-Diggle. As they walk over, Oliver begins to make introductions. Felicity's cheeks warm as she shakes John Diggle's hand, feeling the strength behind the gentleness he shows. "It's so nice to meet you! I have such respect for your work. I mean, it couldn't have been easy acting on action film sets after your brother died a-la Brandon Lee. Terrible tragedy..." Felicity looks around at the three men and instantly feels embarrassment mounting and burying her into the sidewalk. "And I shouldn't have said that. Shit. That was really messed up. I'm so sorry, Mister Diggle."
John Diggle laughs heartily. "Please, call me Digg. And don't worry about it." He pats her on the shoulder lightly. "I do what I do in his memory."
"With that cringe-fest out of the way," Roy exclaims, taking attention off Felicity. "Can we go get some food. I'm starving and I can smell the awesomeness."
They all nod and make their way inside. At the sight of Oliver and Digg, the staff make it their point to give them the best spot out on the balcony. They take their seats and are welcomed by a gorgeous view of Old Town and the greater San Diego area beyond. The summer air is warm but the breeze up on the balcony is refreshing. They are handed their menus and they all order drinks. Roy insists on starting the night off with a round of tequila shots, of which the two other men agree without hesitation. Felicity is outnumbered, but she can't deny the desire to try some of the restaurant's famed liquor. Along with the shots she orders a house margarita and a glass of water, remembering what her mother had always told her: "You can drink all you want, but you gotta make sure to keep yourself hydrated. Always order water with your drinks." Oliver and Digg each order draft beers.
The conversation overflows even before the shots arrive, all of the guys instantly finding a camaraderie she has no part in. She peruses the menu, keenly aware of Oliver Queen's warmth beside her. She keeps checking her watch, waiting for the time that Caitlin will arrive to save her from the testosterone overload. She digs her phone out of her clutch and shoots Caitlin a text, begging for her to hurry.
"Alright, everyone," the waitress exclaims as she comes to the table with a tray of beverages. "I hope you're ready for all of this." She sets everyone's drinks onto the table and then pulls her notepad out of her apron pocket. "Everyone know what they want?"
They all order their food and then the waitress leaves them to their shots. Roy smiles across the table from Felicity, holding up his glass. "To new friends!"
"To new friends!" they all chant before downing the shot. Felicity closes her eyes in an attempt to ease the burning cascading down her throat. When she opens them again, he glances at Oliver. He's completely stoic and unfazed by the intensity of the shot. "That was some strong stuff," she mumbles as she gulps down some water.
Oliver shrugs, gazing down at her with a grin. "Considering my father keeps a collection of fine Russian vodka on hand back in Starling City, this is nothing..."
She nods. "That's right. You're rich..." She looks up at him to find his brow raised slightly. "Well, I mean, of course you're rich. You're a movie star. What I meant to say is that you've always been rich."
"That would be correct," he responds, taking a sip of his beer, clearly fighting back laughter.
She hangs her head slightly and starts on her margarita, wondering how much worse her word-vomit could become once the alcohol starts loosening her tongue even more. Or does it have the opposite effect? Why don't I know this already?
"Felicity!"
She looks up to see Caitlin coming through the doorway, her smile fading as she catches sight of the other people seated around the table. Shit. I didn't tell her Oliver Queen was gonna be here. "Caitlin! I'm so glad you made!" Felicity proclaims, rising from her chair awkwardly to hug her friend. She turns and introduces her to the table... not that introductions were really necessary.
"It's so nice to meet you two," Caitlin says, her cheeks growing red and her hands beginning to shake. As she seats herself next to Felicity, she leans in and mutters: "Why didn't you warn me two of the world's most talked about actors would be here for dinner!?"
"Sorry," Felicity mouths just as a basket of chips is placed on the table along with two bowls of salsa. Everyone digs in and starts chatting, getting to know one another. Felicity remains quiet, worried about what nonsense could spill out of her mouth. I've already reminded Digg of his dead brother and made silly comments about Oliver's money... It can only get worse.
Caitlin nudges Felicity. "Oliver won't stop looking at you."
Felicity looks at her friend, confused. "Really?" She casts a sideways glance toward Oliver to find him doing the same thing. She can feel her face going hot. She looks back at Caitlin and feigns nonchalance. "I have no idea why..."
"Well, in case you didn't know, all the internet is talking about is his interest in making an appearance on your show. For a moment, I thought you might actually break the internet."
The waitress interrupts to get Caitlin's food and drink order, then refills Felicity's water. The conversation at the table gets lively as the drinks slowly empty. Felicity savors her margarita, unwilling to drink it too fast for fear of what such a beverage might lead her to do if she stares at Oliver Queen too long. Glancing at him, she finds him smiling broadly, genuinely. She can tell he doesn't smile often, and it makes her feel good to put him in a situation where he might actually be enjoying himself. She runs a hand through her hair and then takes a deep breath, feeling slightly less on edge.
"How'd the two of you meet?" Oliver asks, leaning forward to look over at Caitlin.
"College. I actually credit myself for Felicity getting into acting. If it weren't for my helpful, best-friend nudge, she might be sitting in a dank office working I.T. I mean-"
"That's what I originally wanted to do," Felicity interrupts, after taking a lengthy sip of her margarita. To hell with this. This thing is too damn good to neglect. "Then she convinced me to join the university's improv club. What was it you said...?"
Caitlin chuckles. "I think I said something about how your babbles might be beneficial to the improv actors, and maybe you'd find yourself a new hobby."
"And did the babbles help the actors?" Oliver asks as he looks down at Felicity, his eyes warm and bright with amusement.
"Yes," she answers, looking away to glare at Caitlin. "But really... that's not an interesting story. How about we hear how the brilliant Oliver Queen got into acting..."
There was silence as everyone else at the table nodded with interest. Felicity turned back to find Oliver smiling down at her as if challenging her in some sort of flirtatious battle, but she didn't understand what the battle was about. It was a simple question to answer. Anyone at the table could answer that question with ease, right? "Running a company didn't seem like something I'd enjoy. What did seem like a good idea was shooting action scenes and making out with hot actresses." He winks, making everyone laugh. "It's really that simple.
Something in the way he reaches for his beer and takes a swig tells her that there's more to the story, and she wonders whether she'll ever get to learn more.
"Why would you drive here when you could use a town car?" Oliver asks as he, along with Roy, carries Felicity down the street toward her car.
She laughs incessantly, unable to control what comes out of her mouth. Her face is hot and her vision blurs, making it feel as though the world is moving by her while she stands still. But her feet are moving awkwardly, tripping over Oliver's every few steps. She leans into him and sniffs his button up shirt, once again admiring his choice of cologne. Suddenly the smell triggers a wave of queasiness and she groans. "Oh god, why did I drink so many margaritas!?"
Roy chuckles, gripping her waist a little tighter as she stumbles over a rut in the road. "I'm pretty sure we asked you that, and you just giggled and gulped one down in a few seconds."
She raises her head and looks up at Oliver. He returns her gaze and smiles sympathetically. "I don't normally do this," she admits, feeling an extreme case of embarrassment. "Truly."
"I believe you," he says as they finally come to her car. He glances at Roy. "I'll drive her back to her hotel. You mentioned you drove yourself here as well, right?"
"Yeah, but I'm safe to drive. I had one shot and one beer. I was afraid this might happen," he says, jerking his head down in her direction. "Are you sure you don't want me to take her?"
"It's fine. I took a town car... something my family insists I do..." Oliver sighs, then continues. "You can follow behind us, if you like. You can help me get her up to her room."
Roy nods. "Sure. Just let me pull my car around." And then he's gone.
Felicity tries to keep her eyes down, away from Oliver, but his allure is intense and she can't help but gaze up into his blue eyes. He leads her to the passenger seat, then waits. "What's the hold up?" she asks, her words slurring slightly at the end.
He holds out his free hand. "Keys, please?"
"Oh," she murmurs, then laughs again as she digs her keys out of her clutch and drops them into his palm, amazed by the size of his hands. He unlocks and opens the door, then eases her into the seat. After the door shuts, she lets out a breath. "Those hands were crafted by the God himself!" she exclaims, then instantly regrets it as she hears him chuckle outside of the car.
He gets in and starts the ignition. He turns down the radio and then switches the A/C to full blast, turning all of the vents to face Felicity. She basks in the cold air, letting it dry her clammy skin and soothe her pounding head and roiling ickiness. Once the worst of the nausea is over, she turns to face Oliver, finding him watching her with concern etched onto his face. "Thank you, Oliver."
For a moment he closes his eyes and smiles. When he opens them once more, she can see some intense emotion. Or maybe she's imagining it in her drunken haze. But he nods. "No problem," he whispers, letting his hand rest on her hands clenched in her lap. With his touch, her muscles instantly relax and he rests her head back on the seat and closes her eyes, letting herself succumb to a car ride nap.
Halfway through the drive, however, she wakes up. She lifts her heavy eyes toward Oliver and watches him, finding his concentration incredibly sexy. WIth each streetlight that illuminates his face, she grows even more enthralled. She looks down at his hand still resting atop hers and smiles. She moves her left hand out from under his and slowly lets it graze his leg. She finds his pocket and digs his phone out, drawing out a protest from his lips. "Felicity, what the hell are you doing?" But he doesn't stop her. He simply keeps driving, getting them closer to their hotels.
She puts her name in his phone, unwilling to let this opportunity pass. She shoves the phone back in his pocket and then resumes her napping position, simply muttering, "Now you have my number."