AN: Okay, so you all are awesome! Seriously awesome for all the reviews. I'm sending everyone tons of hugs from cold England. Here's the third part - it's up on my tumblr too, but I've added in some little changes (if there's any grammatical issues or spelling mistakes, I'm so sorry. I've looked over it but I sometimes miss them) and what not. I hope you like it!

When Diggle entered the Foundry on a Friday evening, he was slightly surprised to see Oliver over at the training area, beating the crap out of not only one dummy, but all three. He instinctively looked around, trying to spot Felicity.

He frowned as he moved over towards Oliver, realizing that Felicity wasn't there.

It wasn't often that her desk chair was empty.

"Where's Felicity?" he asked, and Oliver turned his head towards his friend, not stopping his vigorous work out. It was then that Diggle realized something was wrong.

"Why are you in such a mood?"

"I'm not in a mood," Oliver hissed out, landing a sucker punch into the stomach of the dummy that had Diggle wincing, "And Felicity is on a date."

Diggle smirked, realization dawning over his face. Of course Oliver would be pissed. In fact, he was beyond pissed.

If the two of them thought that he was stupid – or blind – they were clearly mistaken. Diggle saw the tell tale signs of attraction. Hell, he didn't even have to look – the sexual tension between the two could be felt whenever they were in the same breathing distance. He knew better than to voice his assumptions, but if the two were going to be stubborn about it, it was their loss.

Therefore he guessed them as being the stupid ones – no one beat around the bush like his partners.

"A date huh? And that's what got you all angry and brooding?" he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. Oliver stalled, before sighing.

"No. Now, if you're done with the comments, I'd like to carry my work out in peace –"

"Oliver, you don't have to beat around the bush with me. It's going to happen sooner or later."

With that, Oliver growled, and stalked towards the newly installed bathroom area that he and Diggle had sorted out only a week ago. Diggle chuckled as he walked up to the club.

"You know I'm right! Have fun brooding, I'll go help out security while you wallow."

When Oliver returned, he put in season 3 of Supernatural and decided to stay for the night.

But it wasn't the same without Felicity there.

"Oliver?"

He grunted, throwing his arm over his face as he shifted.

"Oliver!"

He turned over, burying his face into the soft leather of the sofa, trying to ignore the irritating voice.

"OLIVER!"

He reacted instinctively. Grabbing the assaulting hand, his eyes flew open as he pulled the person down onto him, locking his arms around them.

His eyes met round, shocked, blue eyes.

"Felicity?"

It was the woman who had dominated his dreams – or nightmares, depending on the point of view – all night. He tried to clear his head, sleep still clinging to him.

It was then he realized she was flush against him.

And it was then when they both realized his body's reaction.

Later, he would blame it on the haziness of his mind. Later, he would blame it on the fact that she was soft and warm and all pressed up against his hard body. Later, he would blame it on the unavoidable morning wood.

Felicity didn't dare move. She couldn't even look away, let alone try break out of his iron grip. But she felt him, pressing against her thigh. She resisted the urge to squirm and shove, because she knew it would not help matters.

Her body was screaming for her to press against him, and she resisted that urge even harder.

Her hands were pressed against the broad panels of his naked chest, and she curled her fingers, her painted nails scraping softly against his skin. The air was washed with their want, and she wanted him to lean forward and kiss her.

He let go of her, quickly scooting out from under her. Blinking, she scrambled up, her face beetroot red.

"I need the bathroom."

Felicity nodded, heading for the small kitchenette area, deciding that coffee was the best solution for them. When she knew he had disappeared from the main area, she let out a shaky breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was she thinking?

When Oliver returned, she handed him a mug, and started talking.

"I'm sorry for waking you up – I just came over to run the names you gave me the other day, and wanted to get it done early just in case –"

"You have another date?"

Felicity stopped short, turning to face him from near her desk. He stood there, in string bottoms and nothing else, sipping the coffee she had made him, eyes guarded as he looked at her. Frowning, she tilted her head slightly. There was nothing playful about his tone, and if anything, the glint in his eyes signaled warning bells in her head.

What had got him in such a mood?

"No actually, I have a girl's night in planned for later, with my best friend."

That was probably the shortest sentence Felicity had ever said to him.

"So, wasn't the date a success last night?"

Something in his voice set her teeth on edge, and she straightened her shoulders unconsciously.

"It was fine. I was with two other friends, so it's hardly an actual date. Though I don't see how that affects anything," she said, confusing colouring her voice as she frowned. Oliver raised an eyebrow, and set the mug down on the counter.

Fine. That meant that it was likely that he would call her again. He wanted to punch something, and decided to head for the training area again. He wasn't going to think about her on a date with any guy. He wasn't going to think about what other connotations 'fine' could represent. He wasn't going to start snapping. In fact, he was going to ignore the green headed monster rising in his chest, demanding to know who this guy was so he could stick an arrow in his balls.

"Good."

"Good? Is that all you have to say after questioning me?" Felicity finally burst. He turned around, a fire evident in his eyes. She didn't know what was wrong with him, didn't know why they were arguing – but she was not letting it slide. There was something bothering him, and she wasn't going to let him treat her like his punch-bag. It hurt that he was shutting her out instead of talking to her.

Weren't they friends, after all?

"I was just asking you about your evening, nothing other than that," he said indifferently, taking a step again. He heard her teeth grind. He actually heard it.

"You weren't just asking. In fact, you were acting like a complete ass, Oliver Queen," she blurted out, throwing her hands up in the air, "And I don't know what has crawled up there and died, but I am your friend, not your punching bag!"

He didn't know what possessed him. It was probably the sharp twist he felt in his gut at the word friend, but he couldn't care less. He was done with playing safe.

"I don't want you to just be my friend, Felicity! I want you to be more that just my friend, and that's my problem," his raised tone matched hers.

With that, he stalked to the door, and let himself out.

"What?"