Orange Juice

by Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.
Rating: T

Summary: Notting Hill AU. All it took was a purple scarf with white stars and orange juice.


The feedback for that last ficlet? Astoundingly awesome. Am I writing a multi-chapter? I've certainly got plans to!

What I'm currently working on:
Blood Hands - a multi-chapter canon Bratva fic
Dotted Lines - the tattoo AU
King and Queen - the multi-chapter AU Bratva fic

First two are plotted out, just need to fill them in with, you know, words (I prefer to have several chapters written before I start posting, because I lack discipline otherwise). King and Queen might take me a bit longer. In the meantime, I hit a snag in Blood Hands, so I sat down and watched Notting Hill. And this happened.


There were three things wrong with her day.

The first was that she was too nice. She really needed to stop being so nice, or rather she needed to stop listening to any old sob story and giving in.

That led directly to her second thing, which was ever hiring Roy Harper as her employee. Although she sort of blamed his parents for gracing him with that charming puppy-dog smile he used like a secret weapon. Well, his parents and whoever had helped him refine it until it was like kicking a puppy saying no to him.

And this all tied into the third thing which was that Roy Harper had forgotten to get actual coffee on his coffee run.

"I forgot what you wanted," he said, shrugging his shoulders and Felicity buried her face into her hands. "I don't get what the big deal is anyway, you've already had, like, five cups this morning."

"I have only had two, Roy," Felicity said into her palms. She didn't look up as she used her fingers to measure. "And that is about this much too little. Which you should really know by now considering you see me do this every single day." Felicity looked up at him and made a face. "And how could you forget my order, it never changes."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Oh wait, that's right. You've gone on dozens of coffee runs and only come back with actual coffee twice!"

"Haven't you ever heard that that sludge can stunt your growth, Barbie?" Roy asked, completely unruffled, and Felicity narrowed her eyes.

"How about you take that wiseass attitude of yours and use it to put away some boxes," she replied.

There was that stupid smile of his. "You know you love me."

"I know you have muscles that can lift heavy things, that's about as far as my affection for you goes."

Roy laid his hand over his chest, giving her a pathetic look. "You slay me."

Despite herself, Felicity cracked a smile and he grinned.

She pointed her pencil at her lips. "This smile means nothing until those boxes are unpacked."

"I am your faithful servant," he said, giving her a bow as the doorbell for the front door dinged. Felicity waved Roy away with a, "Channel that mocking into some lifting," before she moved to greet her new customer.

What she immediately noticed was that the guy completely engulfed her entire shop. The sun was in its mid-morning position, flooding the front windows with blinding rays of light, so not only was he dwarfing the shop, he was really just a giant dwarfing shadow of a guy.

Her shop wasn't very big to begin with. It was a specialty store that had a novelty feel to it where she sold rare or one-of-a-kind items she had started collecting at MIT. What had been a fun tiny hobby quickly grew into a closet full of weird little things. If she wanted to trace it back, it began when she saw her roommate's Pan-Am bag that she used as carry-on luggage when traveling, which in turn led to Felicity and Jen spending their weekends combing through the dozens of the thrift stores littered all over Boston.

The shop didn't do great, but it didn't do bad. It was a business that gave you ulcers, but you were happy to have them. She could afford to live comfortably in the apartment above the shop, and she could afford to pay Roy something - he was the best employee she'd ever had, even if he had figured out on day two how to push every single one of her annoyance buttons.

Her shop wasn't much, but it was hers.

And this guy was making it look like it was the size of a cardboard box.

"Hi, welcome to The Smoak Screen," Felicity said, hopping off her stool at the counter. She saw the guy look at her but his face was still in shadow as she approached. "Can I help you find something?"

"I'm just looking," he replied, and the timber of his voice struck her. Felicity paused, feeling the hint of déjà vu coming on. She had lived in Starling City for several years now but she didn't exactly have a social life. And she would remember someone as… big as he was.

Maybe this would be her reasoning for Roy next time - no coffee means she started to imagine things.

"Well, shout if you need anything."

"Thanks."

Felicity turned and headed back to the counter. She glanced back when he moved further into the shop, and she saw him picking up a thin purple scarf with little white stars all over it.

"Are you shopping for your wife?" He stiffened. "Or girlfriend? Or not, it could be anyone, I'm not trying to assume that it's for anyone, because I don't know." She knew he was looking at her - despite the glaring sun - because she could feel his eyes drilling into her forehead. "The reason I ask is because I don't think they'd like that scarf."

He paused, and the longer she stared at the shadow the sun was creating, the more his face started to take face-shape. Maybe he'd come in before, he looked awfully familiar.

"Oh?" he asked, his amusement evident, and she took that as a good sign.

She stepped closer, waving at the scarf. "I sort of have a feeling about these things. It's not like a supernatural sort of feeling, it's just a… feeling. Like that feeling you get when you find the right pair of shoes. Not that you probably spend a lot of time buying the right pair of shoes, although maybe you do, or maybe you're more of a… tie… guy."

He chuckled.

Felicity paused. "Sorry. I have clearly not had enough coffee. I just don't think that's the right scarf."

He didn't respond, and Felicity wondered if she had just talked her first customer of the day right back out of her shop before he'd barely had time to browse. He had been pretty clear earlier, but the scarf was just… wrong. And she was used to most guys coming in and making a beeline for her, wanting to get the one item they were there for and then get out again.

Apparently not this one.

"But you are obviously here to browse, so I will leave you to browse."

She turned to go when he reached out and touched her elbow, and she felt a tiny zing that had her looked down at his hand. She hoped it was for a split second, because she might have taken a lot longer than that to notice that he had amazing hands.

"No," he said, nodding to the scarves. "I was just looking. If you have suggestions…"

"Oh. Okay. Good!" Felicity said. "You're doing good so far, a scarf is the right choice." She immediately pushed aside the purple one with the white stars and dug a little deeper before pulling out a beautiful silken blue and green ornamental scarf and a red knit one. "Now, I just need to…"

And then she looked at him.

She really should not have done that.

Because he was Oliver Queen.

Felicity blinked.

Oliver Queen, a movie star who rivaled the likes of Brad Pitt or George Clooney - or some other international movie star who had looks that were strangely magnetic along with shockingly good acting chops - was in her shop, looking at bad scarves, taking over the room just by existing… and he was looking at her.

Felicity gaped at him for a moment, and he stared back, wearing a polite and patient smile like this was something he ran into every day, people staring at him with their mouths hanging open and old coffee breath. And she'd had something spinachy for breakfast, hadn't she? What if she something green in her teeth, or a green tongue?

She snapped her mouth closed and looked at the scarves again, a surge of adrenaline making her heart feel like it was exploding. The scarf was shaking in time with her hands, because her arms felt like they were going to vibrate right off her torso.

"Okay." She took a breath. She felt like her center of gravity had just nosedived. "I just need to know a few things. About the person… you're buying this for," she said, her words coming out in halted breaths. She blindly held up the scarves. "Or you can just pick one. Or you can have both."

He chuckled again and said, "It's for my sister."

God, no wonder his voice sounded so familiar, didn't she just watch that cowboy movie he did last year a few days ago? The one where you got to see… all of his… backside.

Felicity blushed and fought to remember what he had just said, and not to realize that this man had an ass that you could absolutely bounce a quarter, and a dime, and a penny, and anything ever off of… and to ignore the way he cocked his head as he watched her, the fake smile he had been wearing turning into something a little wider, something a little more… deadly to her organs.

"Okay. Sister. Right." She swallowed. Thankfully muscle memory wasn't just for the actual muscles in her limbs as she went on her normal spiel. "How does she take her coffee?"

He gave her quizzical look at the odd question. This was her cue to explain her method - because she did have a method - but her mind blanked on her. Instead she stared back at him with wide eyes, unable to make her lips form words until he answered.

"Uh, black. I think."

"Okay… and… how does she open envelopes? Does she follow the flap… flappy thing, or… or rip right into them?"

She watched his lips curl up into more of a smile, like he was enjoying her tripping over her words, and why wouldn't he? She was just the local bumbling shop owner who didn't know how to keep her cool because Oliver Queen was in her shop.

"She opens them from the side actually." She lifted her eyebrows and he used his hands to imitate. "She tears that little corner flap and rips it right up the side."

"Adventurous," Felicity said and he chuckled - again. Instead of ramping up the butterflies trying to outfly each other in her stomach, it put her a little more at ease. It helped that her babbling wasn't making him uncomfortable. "Okay. And last question is what is the first letter of her middle name."

Oliver raised an eyebrow at that one and she realized who it was she had just asked that. Was that too personal? Of course that was too personal. That wasn't too personal for any random person off the street, but asking a guy who spent his entire life in the limelight, who probably went more out of his way than anyone to hide these facts? Way too personal.

"You don't have to answer that, if you don't want to," Felicity said, and he just nodded, his smile losing all that natural charm he had just about obliterated her with, leaving her feeling disappointed.

Disappointed? That is really just a horribly stupid thing to think, a severely famous person was in her shop, looking at things she had specifically handpicked for sale, and she was disappointed that he was giving her his patented movie star smile? That smile was enough to melt the panties right off anyone with eyes, and she was disappointed?

The better question was how she was aware enough right now to be able to tell between his movie star smile and his… other smile?

Further evidence that lack of coffee was bad.

"Okay, um, the blue and green one. Is the one," she said. "This has a fun story actually. An old Chinese man was wearing this when he, you know…" She made the classic sign of 'he's dead as dead can be dead.' Felicity's eyes snapped shut. "Which is the opposite of fun and really quite possibly the worst endorsement I could have possibly given this poor scarf."

He chuckled - the sound was devastating - and took the scarf from her with a nod. His fingers brushed hers and she wasn't sure if the tingle of his skin brushing hers was in her head or not as he said, "That's… authentic."

"Yes…" Felicity was still holding the red scarf as she nodded. "That is one way to think of it." She pointed at the desk where she had been sitting. "Register. Unless there's something else you needed? I don't want to rush you out of here unless you want to be rushed out."

The chuckle. Again.

"I'm ready," he said and she made a beeline for the counter.

She heard him following her, and she nearly tripped over a basket she had sitting behind the desk but she caught herself before her forehead made out with her stool. She quickly typed in the price of the scarf - and she would only later realize she had severely overcharged him for it, because right at that moment she had no idea what her hand was doing - and he handed her a few bills.

She grabbed a bag and put the green and blue scarf in, automatically grabbing the red scarf as well and shoving it in along with it. "You can have this one too. On the house. Because red is pretty, and lots of girls like red. And in case I'm wrong."

Oliver smiled at that, and it was the real smile again. "I highly doubt you'll be wrong," he said, taking the bag from her with a smile. "Thank you."

Wow, they should bottle those lips and teeth.

"Have a good day," he said before turning to leave.

"You… good day as well… too," she replied, but he was already out the door.

Roy came back a few minutes later to find her still staring at the front, barely blinking.

She only turned when he waved his hand in front of her face.

"You alive in there?"

"What?" she responded. She looked at Roy slowly. "I think I need more coffee."

"Okay…"

"No," she said. "Not coffee. Do you know who that was? No, you probably wouldn't care because I don't see you ogling him… unless you do." Felicity furrowed her brow. "Which I don't think you do. I should splurge. Orange juice!"

"You do realize you're talking in tongues right now, right?" Roy asked and Felicity just looked at him. "You okay in there? Because last time I checked, orange juice wasn't a splurge."

"It is for me," Felicity replied. She stepped out from behind the counter and patted his shoulder. "Watch the shop."

"Yeah, no, I'm not doing that."

"Thanks, Roy," Felicity said as she grabbed her purse.

"I said no, blondie."

"Uh-huh," Felicity replied as she left.

The sun was blinding as she made her way to the coffee vendor down the block. She barely remembered making the decision to cut through the alley that held the entrance to her apartment. She barely remembered making it to Lou's cart, her coffee guy, and the look he gave her when she asked for some orange juice instead of her usual mid-morning triple cappuccino.

No, the next time she was aware of anything was when she was about to head down the alley back to her shop when she stopped, the surreal feeling of the entire last few minutes starting to fade a bit, and she realized she actually did want coffee, and what a splurge that would be - coffee and orange juice.

She switched gears, turning to head back to Lou, but instead she ran face-first into the guy coming up behind her.

They collided, her orange juice right between them.

The paper cup exploded and she yelped as the juice seeped through her sundress and the shirt of…

"Shit!" Oliver said loudly. The bright orange was soaking right through his white t-shirt and staining the front of his very, very tight and well-designed jeans.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" Felicity said. She dropped the cup, immediately stepping in and plucking his soaked shirt of his chest - and wow, his chest - and he batted her hand away.

"I got it," Oliver replied, pulling the shirt away from his skin. "Thanks."

The 'thanks' sounded more like a 'fuck you,' which had Felicity flushing in horror.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, and I was going back to Lou for coffee, and I'm so glad that wasn't coffee."

Oliver grunted, somehow the sound coming out very similarly to the way he'd said thanks.

"Can I… I live right… right here, in this alley - I mean, not in the alley, I'm not some weird vagabond, not that there's anything wrong with vagabonds… but I do live right there and you can come in and I'm sure I've got something somewhere you can change into if you need to-"

The way he was looking at her had her words stumbling to a stop, and he gave her a pointed look, his eyes zeroing in on her wet dress and Felicity looked down. You could see every inch of her bright orange bra right through her dress.

She made an alarmed noise that sounded like a goat screaming and she immediately crossed her arms.

"Oh wow, this is quickly becoming the worst day of my life," she said with a self-deprecating smile that Oliver didn't really return. At all.

In fact, charming Oliver Queen was gone, and in his place was a grumpy, glaring guy who looked like he wanted to murder the oranges that had splattered all over his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "If you want, I might have... something."

He whipped his hand out, orange juice droplets spraying everywhere as he said, "Where's your place?"

Felicity pointed over his shoulder, at the dingy alley door covered in graffiti. "Right there. The ugly, sad door that actually hides a really nice apartment." When he looked at her again with an indecipherable look, she cringed away. "It's not as scary as it looks, is what I mean."

He plucked at his shirt again, looking around, looking like he really wished he had never met her before giving her a short nod. "Okay."

"Great, good, okay," Felicity blurted, darting around him and fumbling for her keys. She had the door opened and tried to usher him in first, but he merely held the door for her, staring at her with impassive eyes, waiting for her to go first, and all those nerves from earlier started clamoring across her bones, adrenaline making her feel like she was going to shake her skin right off.

"It's not much," Felicity said, climbing the steep stairs until she reached her second front door, which she unlocked with shaky fingers, far too aware of the fact that not only was someone very close behind her - and it had been a long time since she had had a someone up in her apartment - but that it was Oliver Jonas Queen.

He didn't respond and she clamped her mouth shut to keep it from running off from her again.

Sunlight flooded the entire front room, temporarily blinding her, and she ran right into her couch.

"Oh ow, okay. Who moved that couch?" Felicity dodged around it without looking back to see the look he was probably giving her as she nearly ran into a bookshelf next. "I'll just run in here and see if I have something."

She nearly tripped over the rug in the hallway to her bedroom before she stumbled through her bedroom door.

"Oh my god," she breathed, her hands shaking so bad she could barely grab the first thing she could find to cover her ruined dress. Could this be considered flashing? Had she just flashed Oliver Queen?

She shrugged the black t-shirt on backwards before looking around.

Hadn't Cooper left a shirt here? She knew she had something somewhere. She practically destroyed her closet trying to find it, the entire time trying to remember what mess she had left in the living room that he was probably staring at - he was already annoyed that she'd babbled the entire time he'd been trying to shop anonymously, and then she'd smashed orange juice all over him, and now he was having to see she was just a poor slob who left her used coffee novelty mugs everywhere.

He wasn't making a sound, maybe he'd left.

She finally found the shirt.

"Got it!" Felicity ran back into the living room, holding it up and found Oliver standing by her fireplace, staring at the picture frames she had collaged over the brick. He turned back to her and Felicity had to do a double take when she saw the pleasant man she had encountered in her shop was back.

Whoa.

So this was very Jekyll and Hyde.

"I, uh… here. Is a shirt. For you." She held it up. "You can change in the bathroom, which is right over there."

Oliver took the shirt, nodding his thanks and headed into the bathroom.

He was in there for maybe thirteen seconds when the door opened again and he came out, the blue shirt she had given him stretched to its literal gills across his chest. It was way too small, and plastered to every dip and angle of his chest. Felicity opened her mouth in another embarrassing bout of horror that the only shirt she had was that one when he zipped up his leather jacket, hiding it.

Wow, she didn't realize Cooper was that small.

"Cooper?" Oliver asked, lifting an eyebrow and Felicity's eyes widened. Oh, she'd said that out loud. Lovely.

"The guy… boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - who that shirt belonged to."

A smile grazed his lips for a quick second as he asked, "Ex?"

"Very ex. A long time ex." Felicity nodded.

He didn't move and she scrambled for something to say.

"Can I... get you something?"

What? What does one offer a movie star?

"Coffee? I have a lot of coffee. Or… food, but I don't really have food. I don't have anything. I sort of hit you with my splurge." He lifted an eyebrow and she winced. "That came out really weird, didn't it?"

"I think I'll just go."

"Oh," she replied, nodding. "Right. Well, door is… I'll walk you out."

Oliver nodded. Her heart stopped when he paused as he opened the door, looking back at her. Then her lungs positively ceased to do anything when he gave her a small smile before he left.

Felicity closed the door. She slowly turned and collapsed against it.

Her entire apartment looked completely different now.

She didn't get more than seven deep breaths when someone knocked on her door and she jumped.

It was likely Roy, wandering back here for help because he didn't know anything about "froofy bags"

But it wasn't Roy.

It was Oliver.

"Hi?" Felicity said.

"I forgot the scarves," he said.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, yes, okay, um." She backtracked, looking around, not remembering seeing any bag of any kind. She vaguely heard him stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

"Oh your armchair," Oliver said helpfully and she spotted the bright blue plastic. She snatched it up and handed it over. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome."

Felicity rubbed her palms against her thighs as Oliver stared at her - who knew she was someone who got clammy palms? She smiled at him, nervously, trying to keep her breathing normal but she was standing less than a foot away from a mega-movie star in her apartment, and he was just… standing there.

"You're sure about that coffee?"

Oliver didn't respond. Instead, he titled his head, studying her. She ran her tongue of her teeth, just in case she didn't have spinach lodged somewhere.

"You're different," he finally said, a weird look on his face.

Her stomach plummeted. Okay, she had not been expecting that.

"Different. Like… different bad, right?" Felicity closed her eyes. "Yeah. I actually get that a lot. It's the scarf thing, isn't it? Or the questions. Because what does coffee have anything to do with personal tastes and-"

She didn't see him move. One second he was there and then he was…

Oliver cupped her face between his hands, cutting her off, and then he pressed his lips gently to hers. Felicity nearly stumbled into him, gripping his jacket in her trembling hands.

The kiss was soft, a perfect counter to the sure hold he had on her face.

Just as quickly as it happened, it was over, and Oliver stepped back, leaving Felicity frozen, blinking up at him.

"Different good," he said, his eyes darker than they had been a minute ago. He licked his lips and she nearly came undone as he looked at her like… like different was very good.

"Oh."

He glanced at the door, looking unsure, before looking back to her. She had no idea what he was going to say - he had just kissed her, though, this was something out of one of his dumb movies, not real life - before he gave her a sober look. "I think maybe this shouldn't be… mentioned to anyone."

"Nobody'd believe me," Felicity immediately whispered and a quick smile flashed over his face at that.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes taking her in, before smiling softly. "It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah. You too. Very… surreal. Nice… and surreal."

He grinned, which turned her knees into Jell-O.

Felicity watched him turn, and leave.

She didn't move for several minutes, staring at the door, but he didn't come back.

Or the next day.

Or the one after that.

She harassed Roy until he finally snapped, assuring her he hadn't taken any messages from anyone, much less anyone named Oliver.

On the third day, she started to wonder if she'd imagined the entire thing, especially when she saw a candid shot of him in People magazine holding a shopping bag in Beverly Hills.

But on the fourth day, Felicity came out from the back of the shop, threading the purple scarf through her fingers, wondering if something was wrong with her head because she'd nearly ripped someone's hand off to keep them from buying it… to see Oliver leaning on her checkout counter.

With a smile, a replacement orange juice and a, "Do you like Italian?"

The End


I don't know. I literally just wanted to write an Olicity version of the opening scenes in Notting Hill, but I realized as this was ending that it was too easy. I'll potentially write a role reversal ficlet to accompany this - if anyone is interested in that? My mind went on a wild random soulmate AU tangent for this role reversal idea. (Btw, I really love orange undergarments, I see this becoming a theme in my ficlets.)

Btw, I'm dust2dust34 on Tumblr, if you fancy coming by and saying, "Howdy!"