A/N: Prompt from Anonymous: Felicity proving a frat boy really will do anything because boobs.

This one kind of got away from me. I can't seem to keep any of these under 1,000 words! I hope you like it! I love reading your reviews, so leave some, if you feel compelled to do so!


Felicity ran a hand through the soft, natural curls that fell past her shoulders. Hair down, glasses off. She looked in the mirror, pleased with herself. "This is going to be way too easy," she thought, her fiery-red lips pulling up into a smile.


"Is he all right," Roy asked Diggle, pointing a finger at Oliver, who stood rigidly against the wall inside Verdant. Roy's eyes followed Oliver's line of sight to the bar, where Felicity was flirting with a man none of them had seen before.

"She's gonna be pissed if she sees you over here spying on her date," Roy said, sliding onto a stool next to Diggle.

"Not a date, man," he said, trying not to laugh. "It was a bet."

"A bet? Oliver didn't take his eyes off of the bar where Felicity was perched. She moved in closer to whisper something in the guy's ear, and Oliver began rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, the way he does when he's anxious for his bow.

"Remember a while back when Felicity made the comment about frat boys and, uh, boobs?" Digg asked.

Oliver rolled his eyes, remembering her jab at him after he feigned offense by reminding her that he'd been in a fraternity. "Vaguely," he said.

"Well, Felicity bet Sara that she could prove that theory," Diggle said, raising his hands in front of him when Oliver whirled around. "Don't kill the messenger."

Oliver gritted his teeth and turned back to Felicity and her non-date. He wondered what exactly she was trying to get this guy to do. Did he even want to know? "He looks like a tool," Oliver said, feel slightly childish but not really caring. "I mean, look at him with that popped-collar Polo, and Dockers shorts, and.. boat shoes? Really?"

"He looks like you seven years ago," Diggle deadpanned, which earned another eye-roll from Oliver.

"Annnd, I think he's coming over here," Roy said. His eyes, and Diggle's, shot over to Oliver in time to see him slip the confident playboy/CEO mask back into place.

Diggle nudged Roy with his elbow, "This should be good."

Oliver shot a look of confusion and irritation at Felicity as her companion approached. She was peering at him over the rim of her martini glass, smiling triumphantly.

"Excuse me, uh, Mr. Queen?" the kid couldn't have been more than 22-or-23-years-old. Oliver sized him up — The outfit, the side-parted hair, the cocky swagger he had when he'd been flirting with Felicity a few minutes before — It really was like looking in a 7-year-old mirror.

Oliver, realizing he hadn't said anything, acknowledged the kid's presence by folding his arms across his chest. "Yes?"

"Felicity asked me to tell you that it's time you bought her a drink," he said, nervously wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead.

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. He didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. "Did she now?" He asked, trying to hide the surprise in his voice. He started toward Felicity, leaving the kid behind with Diggle and Roy.

Felicity's heart rate picked up as she watched him walk — ok saunter, Oliver was definitely sauntering — toward her.

"I've been told I owe you a drink," he said, grinning playfully and holding up two fingers to the bartender, never taking his eyes off Felicity's.

Once the drinks were set in front of them he cast a short glance over his shoulder to where Roy was pointing Felicity's former companion toward a group of women on the dance floor. "Are you going to tell me how you convinced that poor kid to basically hit on me for you?"

Felicity felt a slight blush creep into her face, but she sat up a little straighter feeling quite proud of herself. "A girl can't give away all her secrets," she said, involuntarily flicking her tongue out over her lips.

Oliver's eyes shot to her mouth, and he inhaled deeply. "Women are wicked," he said, roughly, shifting into her space.

"Sara told me once that I could be quite the seductress," she said, laughing, as if it was a ridiculous notion. Oliver didn't think it was ridiculous though. Felicity was seductive without even meaning to be. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them he noticed that Felicity's lipstick had left perfect a red lip-print on her glass.

He was thoroughly distracted when he said, "She wasn't wrong." Apparently his brain-to-mouth filter had malfunctioned.

She stopped mid-sentenced and smiled. "Oliver Queen, are you flirting with me?" She asked, because two vodka martinis made Felicity a bit bold.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said. He had been flirting with her, which was new for the two of them, and now he was being coy.

"Mm. That's a shame," she said, looking down at her nearly empty glass.

Oliver's self-control was slipping, and if he was being honest, he wasn't doing much to stop it. "Felicity?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want another drink?"

Their eyes met for one loaded moment, before she replied, "No." Then Oliver had her by the hand and was practically dragging her toward the exit. They made it as far as Felicity's car before Oliver had her pushed up against the side, his mouth hovering over hers.

"Oliver.." she breathed, and it was all the permission he needed. His arms wrapped around her back, hands tangling in her hair, and their lips met in a searing kiss.

Felicity's fingers scraped through the hair at the nape of Oliver's neck and down the scruff along his jaw. They only separated when their lungs were screaming for air, their bodies still pressed tightly together. Oliver dipped his head down and placed a kiss behind Felicity's ear, and another on her exposed collarbone.

"You must be pretty proud of yourself," Oliver breathed against her neck. "You definitely won that bet."

She groaned a little and wiggled against him. "I'll have to let Sara know she owes me 20 bucks," she murmured, as Oliver's mouth dipped down over hers again. Felicity smiled against his lips then shifted, putting a few inches between them, so she could look at Oliver's face. He looked happy and relaxed. And he also looked like he wanted to devour her.

So she let him — In the backseat of her car, again on her kitchen counter, then again in her bed. Twice.