Author's Note: hello, my loves! Everyone ready for the next chapter? It's a bit lighter, because our dear Felicity needed a bit of a break. I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it. As always, thank you so much for reading, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this installment.

Allons-y!

"I'm still pissed at you."

Felicity sighs and rolls her eyes.

"I'm aware."

"Why didn't you call me, Lis? You know I would've been there in a heartbeat."

"Yes, and then never would have left."

"Oh and I suppose that you're gonna sit there and tell me that you wanted to be alone, in your apartment, after being brutally assaulted?"

Felicity opens her mouth to fire off a retort, but the look on her friend's face stops her. Kylie may look like a tattooed version of Audrey Hepburn on the outside, but on the inside she is all volcanic energy; she is the very definition of ferocity, neatly packaged into a five- foot- three- inch frame.

She can see that Kylie is angry, but it's what's underneath the anger that halts her words: genuine concern, and maybe even a little hurt.

"I'm sorry, Ky," she says softly, contrite. "I just didn't want to …"

"If the next words out of your mouth are anything like 'bother you', so help me God, Felicity Megan Smoak, I will dangle you from the roof by your bra strap," Kylie snaps.

"That's the most inventive threat I've ever heard."

The air freezes in her lungs.

Felicity is very certain that she would like nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide, because she recognizes that voice and it is not Kylie's.

When she glances up, it's to see none other than Oliver Queen standing mere inches from their table, arms crossed over his chest and an amused glint in his eye.

"Granted, it'd be more effective if this wasn't a single story building."

"Fair point. And do you have a name, or should I just call you 'Mr. Man Cake?'" Kylie answers.

"Oh my God," Felicity groans, dropping her head into her hands in embarrassment.

Oliver, however, is laughing. "Man Cake?"

"Well, you are delicious looking."

"Kylie, you are dead to me!" Felicity hisses through her hands, but Kylie is grinning and just waves her hand dismissively at her.

"I'm Oliver Queen; and you are?"

"Smitten."

Felicity drops her arms on the tabletop and then her head, inwardly writhing in embarrassment. Most of the time, she enjoys Kylie's outrageous antics and the situations they create, but this is definitely not one of those times; right now, she'd like nothing more than to knock her tiny friend unconscious and escape out the back door.

"I'm Kylie," she can hear her friend introducing, "And this blushing young maid is Felicity. We were just discussing her current state of loneliness."

"'Alone' is not synonymous with 'lonely'," Felicity says quickly, lifting her head to glare at Kylie.

"Are you lonely, Felicity?" Oliver asks, his tone somewhere between teasing and troubled.

Oliver does not tease often – at least, not her – but she can tell by the quirk of his mouth that he is doing exactly that. She has the distinct feeling that he's laughing at her, and yet there is a tense undercurrent to his tone when he asks if she's lonely. He's scanning her face, although she knows not what he's searching for, and she wonders if she's imagining the electricity passing between them.

"Are you signing up to keep her company, Oliver?" Kylie queries saucily.

Felicity's face is aflame; she's convinced that if she were to glance under the table at that very moment, even her feet would be blushing.

"I hate you," she tells Kylie sweetly.

"You always know what I want to hear." Kylie grins and shoots her a wink, unperturbed.

"Felicity," a new voice says then. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, of course," Felicity groans.

Digg has appeared next to Oliver, glancing from her to Kylie and then to where Oliver is still standing.

"Kylie, this is John Diggle. Digg, this is Kylie."

Felicity jumps on the introductions before her friend can make a comment, because she's known Kylie long enough to recognize the devilish glint that has appeared in her eye. She's already so embarrassed that her skin is practically crawling, and the last thing she needs is a repeat of the "man cake" moment.

"You three know each other?" Kylie questions, motioning between them.

"We're friends," Oliver answers calmly.

Kylie's laughter is sudden and unhindered as she takes in the reality of the situation, and her friend's nearly magenta cheeks. Digg looks perfectly confused, but Felicity is too mortified to offer any sort of explanation.

"Well," Kylie says when she's managed to contain her laughter, "Now that I've secured Lis' hatred, would you guys like to join us?"

Felicity is fully expecting Oliver to make some sort of excuse, assuming that he and Digg have come to the diner to make plans for the evening that are decidedly … private; hearing him graciously accepting Kylie's offer, then, is a surprise that she's not sure how to interpret.

Kylie is dynamic, self-assured, and admittedly hard to resist – there aren't many people who can refuse her (if they're even given the chance), so Felicity isn't surprised when Oliver allows himself to be pulled into the booth next to her.

Felicity smiles at Digg and scoots over.

"So what are you beautiful ladies up to this afternoon?" Digg asks, glancing from Felicity to Kylie.

"Well, since my wonderful Lis, here, is an ass, I had to hear about what happened from the news," Kylie replies. "So, of course, I dropped everything and drove up here."

"So you don't live in Starling City?" Oliver prompts.

"Not anymore. I'm about half an hour away from here; got offered a better job."

"And what is it you do?"

"I'm a chemist."

"A chemist?" Digg repeats, surprised.

"What can I say," Kylie says with a shrug, "I like explosions."

"Almost as much as she likes causing them," Felicity jests, earning her a wide grin from the other girl.

"Everyone plays to their talents, Lis."

Felicity can feel eyes on her, and she glances up to find that Oliver is watching her with a look that she can't place. Undecipherable, that look, but not unfamiliar: she's seen it several times since last weekend, and even once or twice before that.

In truth, Felicity is having a hard time discerning the strange new tone their relationship seems to be taking. She hadn't realized it at the time, but things have felt different ever since last weekend, when he'd shown up at her door in the middle of the night; she'd woken up the next morning, unable to pinpoint when she'd actually fallen asleep, and he'd been gone.

Neither of them had mentioned it.

Carly comes to take their orders and refill Felicity's coffee cup, and Felicity says a silent prayer of thanks that Kylie doesn't seem to notice the looks exchanged between her and Digg. She's not sure how well the ex-soldier would take to being teased by her rabid pixie of a friend.

"So what is there to do here these days, boys?"

Kylie's tone is jovial and paired with a bright smile, and Felicity watches as it draws answering mirth from Digg and Oliver. She is accustomed to their usual (respective) brands of seriousness, so it makes the transformation rather striking; Digg and Oliver are handsome men, but their smiles make them striking.

"Depends on what you want to do," Oliver supplies, "But if you really are planning on hanging Felicity from a building, I'd suggest the business district."

For just a second Felicity forgets who she's with, so her reaction defaults to what it would be if she were responding to Kylie: she makes a face and wags her head in mock irritation.

She's not sure who starts laughing first – Digg, or Oliver – but it's enthusiastic enough that it makes her blush.

Perhaps it's their laughter that suddenly makes Felicity realize how austere her life has become since Kylie left.

Carly reappears with their food, much to Kylie's pleasure; she nearly smacks Oliver in the face in her haste to take the offered dish, utters a quick apology, and snaps up a few fries.

"I'm not saving you if you choke," Felicity tells her seriously.

"There are worse ways to die."

Kylie freezes with a fry halfway to her mouth, clearly distressed by what she's said. Her eyes flick down to the bruises at Felicity's neck – faded yellow and mostly hidden by make-up, but still visible – and back up to Felicity's face.

Felicity doesn't miss the way Oliver's shoulders tense across the table, or the subtle draw of Digg's face.

"Lis," Kylie says quietly, diminished. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know," Felicity answers quickly, smiling. "It's okay, Ky; I'm okay."

Kylie looks ready to argue, because Felicity knows that she can't hide anything from this girl who's been her friend basically all her life, but she seems to let the lie slide.

"Anyway," Kylie segues, brightening again. "I was sort of hoping to drag Ms. Computer Geek to a club or something, since it's Friday and everything. Recommendations?"

"Oh no," Felicity counters before Oliver or Digg can answer, "You most certainly are not."

"Felicity, what is in your DVD player right now?" Kylie's tone is both forceful and knowing.

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me, little lady. Answer the question."

"Much Ado About Nothing."

"Exactly. You and me, we have a date with a club and my sexy friend Johnny."

"Your sexy friend Johnny?" Oliver interjects, arching an eyebrow.

"Johnny Walker."

Digg, all traces of seriousness erased, grins and pokes Felicity gently in the side with his elbow. She's never seen her friend so at ease, and that alone is enough to make her smile in return, and she takes a chance and nudges his thick arm with her shoulder.

"I didn't take you for a drinker, Felicity," he teases.

"I'm not," she retorts. "Usually."

"Cause she's a lightweight," Kylie informs them. "Last time I took her out I nearly had her talked into getting a tattoo."

Oliver is studying her again: she can feel the weight of his gaze, and though she tries not to, she can't resist bringing her eyes up to meet him. Not for the first time she wonders what it is that he's thinking; what is it that draws his gaze?

What does he see when he looks at her?

"Verdant," Oliver says suddenly, finally taking his gaze from Felicity and redirecting it to Kylie.

"What's verdant?"

"It's a club," Digg answers.

"My club," Oliver amends, but there is no smugness in his tone. "So you're guaranteed a table."

"Perfect!" Kylie crows, even as Felicity is opening her mouth to decline the offer. "What about you guys?"

"What about us?" Digg answers.

"You two look like you could use a night out, so come with us. Bring the girlfriends – do you have girlfriends?"

Felicity dissolves into laughter, both at her friend's brazenness, and at the looks that her question has brought into being. In Kylie's defense, she has no idea that such a simple question has such a complicated answer: Digg has Carly, the ex-wife of his murdered brother, and Oliver sort-of has Laurel, if they can ever find a way to get past the ghost of Tommy.

I wonder what Kylie would say, Felicity thinks then, if she knew that I'm ridiculously attracted to a millionaire who's in love with another woman and moonlights as a vigilante?

"There's nothing subtle about you, is there, Ky?" Felicity teases.

"Not my fault you're friends with total studs," comes the reply, and Felicity is blushing again.

"One of these days I'm gonna buy you a muzzle."

"Promises, promises. So, boys; what do you say?"

"Carly and I have plans," Digg answers, "So I'll have to decline. Have one for me."

"Carly?" Kylie repeats. "As in Carly, the hot waitress who brought us our food?"

Felicity thinks John Diggle might be blushing.

"Hell yeah! You go enjoy your plans, John Diggle, and make sexy babies with your sexy waitress."

"Oh my God, Kylie," Felicity sighs in exasperation.

Kylie, of course, ignores her.

"What about you, Man Cake?"

"Where did you find this girl, Felicity?" Digg asks amidst his chuckling.

"Stole her from a zoo," Felicity replies. "They were desperate to get rid of her."

Kylie flips her off without looking at her.

"I'll be there," Oliver assures them, smiling at Kylie.

Should she find it strange that he makes no mention of Laurel?

"Excellent! You're gonna have the time of your life, Oliver Queen."

"We are so doomed," Felicity mumbles, but she's smiling.

Felicity has never actually been to Verdant in its capacity as a nightclub; by now she's usually sequestered downstairs, her eyes glued to a computer screen while her peers are busy grinding the night away. She believes in the work she does for the Hood, or else she wouldn't be doing it, but she can't deny that it feels good to be above ground tonight.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say this place is pretty popular."

Kylie is staring at the line to get in, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched as she measures up the people waiting.

"Good thing we know the Man Cake that calls himself Boss, huh?"

"Would you stop calling him that," Felicity entreats. "I do work for him, you know."

"Yes, and I can't believe that you've never mentioned how stunning he is. Really, Lis, have I taught you nothing? Never mind; come on."

Kylie flips her dark hair, luscious and perfectly curled, over one of her bare shoulders and slips her hand into Felicity's. She tugs her forward, away from the line and straight up to the very formidable looking man acting as bouncer.

"Hi! We're on the list," she says without preamble. "Kylie Ward and Felicity Smoak."

The bouncer checks his list, then lifts the red velvet rope and ushers them in with a smile.

"Enjoy your evening, ladies."

"Thanks!" Felicity manages to retort before being dragged inside.

The club is already packed, awash with undulating bodies and the flash of strobe lights. The music is loud and, admittedly, infectious; in front of her, Kylie is so excited she's nearly hopping in her six inch heels.

"This is fantastic!" she half yells to Felicity. "Let's get some drinks and find our table!"

They skirt the dance floor, hands still interlocked, until they find an open spot at the bar. Felicity watches as the bartender glances in their direction, and then does a quick double take before making a beeline for them. She can't resist smiling: Kylie has this effect on most of the people she comes into contact with. She is confident, yes, but she's also remarkably beautiful with her delicate features and loud tattoos. All of which are artfully displayed by her choice of dress, a sleek, pink, strapless number.

Kylie shouts their order to the bartender and then half turns so that she can see both Felicity and the bartender.

"I can't believe you've never been here!" she admonishes. "I wish this place would've been here before I moved!"

Felicity smiles but doesn't reply. She knows exactly what would've happened if Verdant had been here years ago: Kylie would have dragged her here at least every other weekend, and she would probably have ended up with that tattoo after all.

Not that tattoos are bad; she just isn't sure she could rock them the way Kylie does. In fact, Felicity rather likes tattoos, especially ones like …

She shut that thought down so forcefully that she almost flinched.

"Johnny has arrived!"

Kylie saves her from similar thoughts by holding out a cold glass, filled nearly to the brim with murky liquid; she takes it and, after touching glasses with her friend in a wordless toast, takes a long pull.

"Ah, sweet nectar!" Kylie exclaims. "Now where the hell is that table?"

They find their table in the corner, closest to the bathroom and furthest away from the speakers, and Felicity reminds herself to thank Oliver the next time she sees him.

The girls take their seats, side by side so that they can look out onto the dance floor, and work on their drinks.

"So, the bouncer was absolutely checking you out."

Felicity laughs. "Drunk already, Ky?"

"Don't do that, Lis."

"What?"

"Belittle yourself, even passive aggressively. You're beautiful, and you're rocking the shit out of that dress."

She chuckles and shakes her head, one hand unconsciously smoothing nonexistent ruffles out of her dress. She'd debated for some time over what to wear, and she'd almost gone with a red one before Kylie had stepped in and insisted she wear the blue. Felicity had loved this dress from the moment she'd seen it on the hangar: sky blue and unadorned, it left one of her shoulders bare and fell to mid-thigh. This was the first time she'd actually worn it, and it had taken many reassurances from Kylie that the bruises on her arm were faded enough to escape notice; for the one around her eye and on her neck, there was make-up.

Still, Felicity knows the marks are there, and it leaves her feeling less than confident – especially in the light of Kylie's near-perfection.

Kylie throws back the rest of her drink and looks to Felicity, waving her hand in a motion that she takes to be the sign to hurry up.

"C'mon, let's dance!"

Felicity shrugs – what the hell, right? – and empties her glass. She barely has time to set it down before being pulled onto the dance floor.

She is a generally quiet person, but there is something very freeing about finding herself in the middle of a dance floor, the steady beat of the music drowning out every thought. She has had a rough week, but she can forget about that for the moment; right now, she's just a girl in a club with her best friend, dancing as if she doesn't have a care in the world.

When the song switches and Kylie professes a desire for another drink, Felicity offers to pay and heads for the bar after promising to meet Kylie at their table.

It takes her a minute to find an opening, but when she does she's pleased to find that she's almost directly in front of the bartender. He seems to recognize her when he looks up, so she gives him a wide grin and orders another round.

"You're the hottest thing I've seen all night."

Felicity just barely stops herself from groaning; instead, she rolls her eyes and turns to find herself being leered at by a somewhat good looking, and completely creepy sort of fellow.

"That's the worst line I've heard all night," she fires back, and she can't help it if sounds a little like a snarl.

"You need to come home with me, I could show you a good time," the stranger presses.

"Sorry, I'm gonna have to decline."

She starts to turn back to the bar, where the bartender is just finishing with her order, when a sweaty hand wraps around the skin above her wrist. Felicity sucks in a breath, because several of his fingers are pressing into her bruises, and they are faded but still painful; in the same instant, that breath freezes in her throat and she sees a different face. She feels again the beefy fingers at her throat, the sting of knuckles as they collide with her face, and she can't move.

"Take your hand off her, before I break it."

Oliver's voice is dark and dangerous, and possibly the most beautiful thing she's ever heard. She has no idea where he's come from or when he appeared, but he's beside her now and his steely gaze is fixed on the man who has her arm.

"I think you're bluffing, pretty boy," the man sneers.

The shadows around Oliver seem to shrink, as if he's taking in their darkness, and when he steps forward to invade the other man's space he looks almost feral.

He says only one word, and yet it is terrifying. "Now."

The stranger releases her arm and Felicity snaps it back to herself, pressing it against her stomach; she has the vague impression that Oliver has called one of the bouncers over to escort the man out, but she's having a hard time focusing. She feels very hot all of a sudden, and the swaying mass of bodies around her seems almost crushing.

Oliver is beside her then, one arm slipping around her waist, and he's guiding her away from the bar and the people and into the open air.

She is trembling.

"Felicity," he says gently, "Hey, look at me. You're okay."

His hands come up to cradle her face, but she's feeling disoriented so she flinches.

"You're okay," he repeats, turning her face up so that she's looking at him and not the ground. "Breathe, Felicity."

She focuses on his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his mouth, anything to bring herself back to the present. His hands are cool against her heated cheeks, and he's standing close enough that she can smell mint on his breath. She takes in all this information in a matter of seconds, but it's not enough, so she reaches up to clasp one hand around his wrist; her fingers cover the pulse point there, and she concentrates on the feeling of his heartbeat.

Felicity closes her eyes, allows that steady rhythm to wash over her, and grounds herself in the moment. Her breathing slows, but she doesn't open her eyes again until she's managed to stop the trembling. When she does, her eyes automatically drift up to meet Oliver's.

"Hi," she whispers.

He gives her the ghost of a smile. "Hey."

She can feel it again, the electricity that seems to run along a current between them. His gaze is sharp, but not unkind; his hands are gentle against her cheeks, belying their power; the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips is like a lullaby.

For just a moment - one wild, breathless moment - Felicity imagines what his lips would feel like against hers; she wonders if he tastes like mint, and if his kiss would burn.

Some say the world will end in fire.

Felicity wants to watch the world burn.