Sooo, I wrote this ages ago, and I was going through some files and found it, so why not post it? Happens some time after Barry Allen comes to Starling City and before everything goes to hell with the whole Slade thing. It's light and fun, something I honestly need with everthing that's going on in the show. So, yeah, I hope you enjoy.

She swallowed the blue colored drink and she felt the familiar burning sensation as it went down her throat. Not that familiar, actually. She wasn't exactly a stranger to alcohol, but she wasn't a friend to it either. But since she had already lost count of how many drinks she had taken this exact night, she considered it quite, quite familiar.

She had made it her night's mission to try at least one of each drink on Verdant's alcohol menu. She knew that at some point she would start ordering repeated ones, but whatever. She wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow anyway.

When Felicity left her home for work this morning, none of this had been in her plans. She would go to Queen Consolidated, then head to the Foundry for a little Arrow work, though they weren't expecting much trouble. Maybe she'd order chinese. Oliver and Diggle really like chinese. Or maybe she could go home early and marathon Game Of Thrones. Tomorrow is saturday, which meant no day job. She could marathon her favorite show all night long without getting worried about waking up early, like the big nerd that she is. But no, she ended up here, at Verdant, getting drunker than she'd been in a while. Probably since college. Of course it was stupid to think that her week could at least get a little better.

Barry was still sleeping. She should really start getting used to calling it a coma. That's what it is, a coma, and calling it any other way wouldn't change her friend's condition. It was just hard to believe that the so full of life Barry Allen could be laying unconscious for weeks now.

She ordered another drink, and drank it at one go.

Obviously, that was only one of the low points of her week. Isabel Rochev – the she-devil in the form of a successful business woman, with killer legs and a mean smirk that could make anyone go off the deep end – had been a big part of making her week hell. Since Felicity caught the woman doing the walk of shame in Russia, working with her had been excessively unpleasant. Not that it hadn't been before that. Isabel was a constantly a bitch to Oliver, making the already hard job of running his family's company even more difficult, but until Russia, Felicity never had that kind of attitude directed towards herself.

This week, though, it felt like Isabel wouldn't leave Oliver's side for anything in the world. She was pretty sure they had attended about four hundred meetings together and, of course, she couldn't let a single opportunity to make Felicity's life hell go. There was the oh, so present smirk that she had to wear every time they crossed paths and, obviously, very mean comments – apparently, all of them had the implication that Oliver had found someone better and didn't need his secretary in short skirts anymore. Felicity had to bite her tongue not to answer with something as insulting as what the other woman was insinuating. Just the possibility that everyone else at QC probably shared Isabel's opinion on her involvement with Oliver makes her want to crawl back behind her desk at the IT department and never leave. What were those people thinking anyway? Like Oliver would ever even think about her in that way.

She ordered another drink.

And, of course, when she thought it couldn't get worse, it did. It shouldn't have, but it did, and she hated that she let herself feel that way.

Lance had called earlier that night. Apparently, Laurel needed a file that was stored somewhere she didn't have access to. Felicity didn't even know what case she was working on, since as soon as Oliver hung up the phone, he was getting dressed and walking out the door. Over comms, she let him know what kind of security he was up against and, honestly, he could be in and out in a blink of an eye, so he sent her and Digg home half an hour after she got there.

That's how she ended up here. Oliver dropped everything for Laurel in a blink of an eye. Again.

She's not jealous. She's not! Nope, not even a bit.

She's not drunk either. There's two of everyone because it's Bring Your Twin day. That's it.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She picks it up and looks at the called ID. Oliver Queen.

She considers ignoring it, but the very small part of her brain that's remains sober makes her take the call. He was out on a mission, something could have gone terribly wrong. She shivers at the mere thought of something happening to Oliver. He speaks as soon as she puts her phone to her ear, not even giving her time to say a quick hello.

"I need you to track Laurel's phone."

"Why would I trash Laurel's home?" Felicity asks, pressing her hand over the ear not occupied by the phone, doing a poor job at silencing the loud, upbeat music of the club.

"What?" He asks, and she senses a little surprise in his tone.

"What?" She asks as well, still not being able to comprehend a word he's saying. "Hold on." She finally manages to get away from the noise as she walks out of the club and into the Arrow cave.

"Where were you? I couldn't hear a thing." He says while she walks down the big set of stairs, instead of repeating what he requested of her moments earlier. At least it wasn't urgent, which meant his safety isn't at stake.

Her heel suddenly gets caught in one of the step and she loses her balance. She drops her phone, but manages to catch the handrail in time to prevent a total catastrophe. Damn her drunkenness! Her ankle hurts, but not enough for it to be a sprain. She hopes so, at least, because she's already clumsy enough in her own two feet, imagine adding clutches to the equation...

She climbs down the rest of the steps and gets her phone from the ground. The glass screen is shattered but it still works, she realizes as Oliver's concerned voice comes through the speakers.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

God! He has a lot of questions for someone who has no particular fondness for answering them.

"I'm fine," she says and her voice sounds irritated.

"Stupid, stupid phone." She mumbles through clenched teeth when she realized little pieces of glass have fallen from the screen and landed in her hair.

Oliver seems to ignore her comment, or maybe he just realizes he had something he needed to talk to her about.

"Can you track Laurel's phone?" He requests again.

"Did you switch from vigilante to super creepy ex boyfriend mode?" She asks, already walking towards her computers and getting to work. She had to focus really hard for a moment due to the double image forming before her eyes. Thankfully, even when drunk, her fingers know a keyboard like the palm of her hand.

Oliver sighed, clearly not appreciating the joke. "I came to her house to give her the file, but she's not here."

"Can't you leave it on the table or something? Or do you need to kneel before her and kiss her feet before you hand it to her?"

Sober Felicity rambles a lot. She does. And her brain-to-mouth filter doesn't always work, usually letting embarrassing information slip. But, oh!, drunk Felicity just takes honesty to an entire different level.

Drunk Felicity isn't always this grumpy, though, but really, who can blame her for being a grumpy drunk while drinking all by herself? Well, she sure as hell needed to lighten up her mood. The whole point of getting drunk this night was to make her shitty week better. So what she fell for the last person she should have? So what he was a danger to her heart - and apparently, her liver? Being grumpy won't help her.

Oliver chooses not to answer her, and silence fills the line for a few moments before Felicity gets a location on Laurel. "She's at Detective Lance's place." She tells him. "No need to rescue the damsel this time." The alcohol speaks for her again. Laurel is in no way a damsel in distress, and she knows that. The woman kicks some serious ass, she knows how to handle herself. Her problem is that she messes with some pretty dangerous people, much like Oliver. One more reason why they're perfect for each other. Felicity cursed herself for not bringing a drink with her to the lair.

Oliver obviously notices something's wrong. He always thought Felicity liked Laurel. Well, as much as she could without actually knowing the other woman. At least he thought she didn't disliked her, but this hostility was definitely out of character for his blond friend. Felicity was always her bubbly, happy, nice self towards everyone – except, maybe, Isabel Rochev, but honestly, the woman was a monster, she deserved it. So it came as a surprise to hear her talk like that.

"Are you home?" He asked her, wanting to go and check on her before calling it a night.

"Nooope," she answered, unnecessarily stretching out the 'o'. "I'm right where you left me."

"You're at the Foundry?" He was surprised. "What are you still doing there?"

"Well, I am tracking your beloved gorgeous Laurel, like you told me to." He could hear the annoyance in her voice. "Hey, do you have any alcohol down here?" She changed the subject, surprising Oliver again. "Tequila would be nice, but I guess anything with 40 percent of alcohol will do just fine."

Okay, he was seriously worried about her now. "No, I don't." He said, changing his course to the Foundry, instead of her building.

"You are lying!" She exclaimed through a set of giggles.

"You're a bad liar, even on the phone!" She told him, and a few more giggles followed. "Seriously, where do you keep it? I can't find it."

"Are you drunk already?" He asks, but doesn't expect her to reply.

"Seriously, there are not a lot of hiding places down here, where is it?"

"I am not telling you. I'm on my way back," he paused, feeling weird about this entire thing. "Don't do anything stupid. I'll take you home as soon as I get there." He didn't give her time to complain before ending the call.

Other than the occasional glass of wine, Felicity never drank this much, or at all. He wondered how much had she had. Maybe she didn't have that much, he really couldn't tell. He also didn't know her limit. If he had to guess, he'd say she's a lightweight, but he learnt not to underestimate Felicity Smoak a long, long time ago. The girl was something else.

About twenty minutes later, Oliver parked his bike by the back entrance of the club and quickly typed the code in the security lock before letting himself in. Loud music was coming through Felicity's computer's speakers. A tune he didn't recognize, and he made a quick mental note to pay more attention to her music taste when he had a chance to – he didn't know anything about it; or about most of her personal life for that matter. He made a mental note about that as well. What a stupid thought. Oliver! Why would you want to know what kind of music Felicity likes?

He spotted Felicity twirling and dancing with a vodka bottle in her hands over on the training mats. She was singing along to whatever song was playing, with her hair falling over her shoulders, instead of being held in the usual ponytail. She looked… breathtaking. And Oliver tried really hard to repress the thoughts that started to cloud his head.

It was not news that the woman before him was incredibly beautiful, in all sense of the world. Oliver also had to deal with his attraction towards her in more than one occasion, but really, he was a man and, even though he knew nothing would ever happen between them, it would do no harm to look. Only things had escalated. He didn't mean for them to, but when he realized it, Felicity was practically walking in on him and Isabel Rochev after one of the stupidest things he's ever done and all he could think about was "how in the name of hell is she going to forgive me for this?", only she had nothing to forgive him for. They weren't in a relationship. They weren't even remotelytogether, and yet, he felt like he owned her an explanation. From then on, things were just close to getting out of hand. Specially after that Barry kid came to his city to steal his girl from him. Stop it! She's not yours!

Oliver realized he was staring, and quickly cleared his throat to make his presence know. She didn't acknowledge him, so he went over to her computers and lowered her music to a minimum, making her turn around.

"Hey!" She greeted him happily.

"Hey back." He answered, walking over to her on the mats. "Where did you get that?" He asked, pointing to the bottle and taking it out of her hands.

"Did you know everyone at Verdant thinks we're sleeping together?" Her question takes him by surprise, and he realizes it's a padron for the night. "Apparently every single person in Starling City does." She adds. At first he thinks that's why she's been acting strange tonight, but the light expression on her face tells him it really is the alcohol.

"I didn't know that." He says, setting the vodka on the table and grabbing one of his water bottles.

"Yeah, well, they do." She says with a smile. She grabs the bottle from the table and takes a sip from it. "You'd be surprise how easy it is to get things when everyone thinks you're Oliver Queen's girlfriend." She adds, pointing to the bottle in her hands. "I think the bartender's in trouble, though. Oh! And so are you. Thea was pretty mad that you didn't tell her about our relationship." Oliver chokes on his water, but she barely notices. "Not that there's anything to tell, right? She just thinks there is. Anyway, she said something about being glad that you managed to find someone who's smart and hot, which is quite flattering, considering your sister could be a model! The hot part that's flattering, I mean, I already know I'm a genius."

"Okay, little genius," he says, after a quick moment of recomposing himself. "You've had enough." He adds, taking the bottle from her again. "I'm taking you home. Now."

"Since when you're the fun police? I thought Oliver Queen was supposed to be the life of the party." She said, poking his chest and doing this awkward dance thing that he supposes it's her way of talking him into dancing with her. He can't help but allow an amused smile to crawl it's way to his lips.

"Well, you're late to that party. Like, six years late."

"Then let's throw another party! Hey, do you dance? I can't, for the life of me, imagine you dancing." Her sentence end in more giggles, and he can practically see the mental image of him dancing forming in her mind.

"No, I don't dance." He answers spotting another one of his smiles. Drunk Felicity is entirely too random for him not to.

"You should, you know, dance. They say men who know how to dance are much better in bed." This comes so casually out of her mouth Oliver has to try very hard to keep himself from chuckling. It's funny to see Felicity make one of her usual slips without blushing or looking like she wants to crawl in hole and stay there for the rest of her life. "Not that you need any improvements on that department, I'm sure you already are amazing."

"I am going to change really quickly and then I'm going to take you home. You can thank me tomorrow." He ignores her comment concerning his talents on the bedroom and turns his back on her, walking towards the bathroom in the back of the lair to get out of his vigilante persona and back to Oliver Queen.

When Oliver comes back out – dressed in comfortable jeans, a white v-neck and a brown leather jacket – Felicity is nowhere to be seen. He quickly checks for her purse and finds her keys there. Her heels are still kicked to the side and the vodka bottle is still on the table, thankfully. Without her keys and shoes, the only place for her to be is upstairs, in the club. Oliver sighs before climbing up the stairs, two steps at a time. Did she really talk to Thea about them being together? He certainly didn't need to add that to his list of problems. Explaining that to his family – or really, anyone – definitely wasn't on his plans when he gave her the Executive Assistant position.

He made a quick scan of the place when he got upstairs, but the club was so crowded, he could see no sign of her. "Damn it, Felicity, where are you?" He mumbled under his breath while making his way through the crowd.

"Looking for your pretty little girlfriend, Ollie?" He heard someone say from behind him.

"She is not my girlfriend, but yes. Have you seen her?" He asked his sister.

"That's not what she told the guy at the bar." Thea said, crossing her arms over her chest, while a smirk never left her lips.

"That's just because she wanted the alcohol. Now, where is she?" Thea pointed upstairs with her eyes and walked away, shaking her head. Looking up, he could see a mess of blond hair dancing next to the DJ.

Oliver quickly made his way upstairs and and spotted her as she danced with the DJ. The guy had his hands on her hips and it made Oliver want to drive an arrow through the guy's palms. Oliver pulled the guy away from Felicity with a hand on his shoulder. Not strong enough to hurt him, unfortunately, but firmly enough for him to take a hint. He stepped away from Felicity, but the girl ignored his absence.

"Did you know you look really hot in leather? Green, brown, whatever, it suits you." She continued dancing, and Oliver stood awkwardly close to her. "Not that other materials don't do you justice, they do, trust me, but you in leather is just…"

"Can we go now?" He interrupted her before she could get too sidetracked, something she would definitely be thankful for tomorrow. She shook her head while biting her lower lip and Oliver decided that it was really distracting. Trying his best not to look at her bright pink lips, he continued. "Or do I have to carry you out?"

"Carry me!" She told him, giggling because of the idea.

"I will do it." He said with a smirk. Does this count as flirting? He hoped not, because even though she was drunk, he kind of liked it.

"Do it then." She dared him, and without giving her a second to prepare, Oliver had grabbed her and lifted her up in his arms – one arm on her back and the other under her knees. A surprised "eep" scaped Felicity before she started laughing. Smiling himself, Oliver made his way through the crowd whose attention was now mostly directed to the notorious bachelor and, supposedly, his latest conquest.

Oliver ignored the knowing looks of strangers and made his way out of the club as fast as he could. Felicity had wrapped her arms around his neck to secure herself in his arms, and rested her head on his chest. "Your chest so firm." She said, looking up at him and pulling her left hand away from his neck to poke him there. "So are your arms, oh my God, are they, like, bigger somehow? Have you been doing the salmon ladder thing when I'm not in the lair? I swear to God, if I find out you've been working out in my absence I will make your life very hard, Oliver Queen." She told him. A moment passed before she broke out in another giggle fit. "Hard, do you get it?" She said, poking his rock hard chest and laughing some more.

The cold breeze hit them as they stepped out of Verdant and he watched as goosebumps appeared on the skin of Felicity's arms and legs. Not that he was staring at her legs, he just kind of… nevermind.

He walked quicker, getting to his parked car across the street. He shifted her weight to his left arm, leaving his right hand free to open the door, then he helped her in.

"You do realize you just lifted me up with one arm like I was a dog or something." She said as he rounded the car and got into the driver's seat. "Not that you treat me like a dog, I like the way you treat me. Well, sometimes you're too glare-y for my taste but you mostly treat me very nicely. But, oh yeah, you kind of lifted me up like you lift a dog. Your arms are insane, did I already say that? Well, they are."

"Felicity!" He wanted to stop her rambles, knowing she would be insanely mad at him for letting her put her foot in her mouth tomorrow, but he couldn't help but chuckle. This woman was too much. "Any particular reason why you're overly interested in the state of my body tonight?" He played along, supposing a little teasing would do no harm. Truth is, Oliver was secretly enjoying all of this, but he couldn't let himself think like that, or, at least, admit to himself that it was even crossing his mind.

"Oh, I'm always interested in your body, trust me," she said, leaning closer to him to whisper in his ear. "But I'm too much of a wuss to do anything about it."

Oliver skipped a beat before answering. She's drunk, he reminded himself, she didn't mean to say that. "I hate to break it to you," she returned to her initial position in her seat and Oliver reached behind her to put her seatbelt on. "But hangover Felicity will be very upset with you tomorrow. So let's get you home before we give her a reason to be upset with me too." He smiled at her and started the car.

Oliver drove in silence, and somewhere along the way Felicity fell asleep. Her apartment wasn't far, so he drove as slowly as he could, not looking forward to waking her up when they got there.

Sadly, it had to happen. "Felicity," he called her name softly.

"I'm sleeping, ask Diggle." She answered in a sweet, sleepy voice and snuggled away from his reach.

Deciding it wasn't actually necessary to wake her up, Oliver lifted her in the same way he had in Verdant and carried her inside her building. The doorman barely notice that Oliver was walking in with a sleeping Felicity in his arms and he made a mental note to talk to someone about that.

He managed to get to her front door without waking her up, but upon arriving, he realized he didn't have a key.

"There's a spare one under the mat." She told him, opening her eyes.

"Were you pretending to be asleep this whole time?" He asked, setting her down and getting the spare key.

"Your arms are comfy," she shrugged. He mock-glared at her with a raised eyebrow and she giggled. He unlocked her door and pushed it open. Felicity walked inside and threw herself on her couch while Oliver stood awkwardly by her door, taking the time to look around her place.

How have I never been in here before? They've been friends, partners, for over a year now, why did he suddenly feel like he knew nothing about her? That's because you don't, idiot, you never bothered to ask.He desperately needs to change that.

Tomorrow he'll ask, he makes a mental promise to himself, when he stops by to make sure she's okay, maybe even share a few hangover cures him and Tommy mastered in their partying days years back.

"You have thinky face. Why do you have thinky face? Are you thinking about why the world's spinning so quick?" She asks, without giving him time to answer, not that he would've. "Yeah, me too."

"No," he chuckles, forcing the memory of Tommy to the back of his mind again. He didn't realize thinking about his best friend, even a happy thought, made him so serious. "I'm thinking it's time to go to bed."

He steps inside her apartment and closes the door. When his look lands on her again, her eyes are already closing and she mumbles sleepily something that sounds remarkably like "only if you come too."

He ignores her comment as usual, but not before a very vivid image of going to bed with Felicity comes to his mind. He shakes it off, picking her up again and taking her to where he supposes is her room. She doesn't show any signs of being awake and he thinks she's actually fallen asleep. Pushing the door open with his feet, he walks into her room, without stopping to actually look at it since the lights were off and he honestly didn't want to wake her up. He set her down on the bed and tucked her in, figuring her dress must be comfortable enough to sleep in. Her shoes are already off, obviously, and he makes a mental note to stop by Verdant to grab them and her purse before heading back to her place to check on her.

Felicity releases a happy sigh, and he supposes she's having a good dream. Giving himself just another moment to really look at her and the peaceful look on her face, he bends down, presses his lips to her forehead and whisperes, "good night, angel," before heading out.

What did you think? I may turn this into a multichapter fic later, but I don't know (: