I refuse to be held responsible for this one... I blame it on Stephen. And his recent pornstache.
"Okay, I'm ready to go," Oliver said, stepping out of the bathroom, checking that his cuff-links were in place. He hated the purple paisley shirt he was wearing, but undercover was undercover, so…
He finally looked up when he was met with total silence, to find both Felicity and Diggle gaping at him.
"What?" he asked, frowning.
"Oh, my God, Oliver. You have a pornstache." Felicity sounded practically gleeful and actually snorted.
"A pornstache? What the hell is a pornstache?"
Diggle was shaking with silent laughter and Oliver glared at him, though it only seemed to make matters worse.
"A pornstache, oh sir pimp, is that thing on your face. And it is just… wow…" Felicity giggled again.
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Okay, you two, we really don't have time for this right now, we need to head out."
"I don't know Oliver. This might be a look you want to try out on a regular basis. I mean, I know you've been trying to avoid romantic attachments - lack of time and all…" Diggle had managed to stop laughing long enough to add his two cents. "The stache would definitely help with that, man…"
Felicity lost it. She was actually bent over, gripping the edge of the table to keep from falling over. Oliver didn't think he'd ever seen her laugh so hard.
"Okay, guys? It really isn't that bad. I think it looks kind of distinguished."
This time Felicity did fall over, crouching on hands and knees, shaking her head. Oliver thought he saw tears.
"No man. Just. Just, no." Diggle clapped him on the back emphatically and turned to leave, heading up the stairs to get the car ready.
"You two are no help. None." He held out a hand, helping Felicity stand up as she took several deep breaths, wiping her eyes.
"Oliver, I think this may end up being my favorite undercover mission ever."
Oliver just grinned. "You say that now," he told her, "But you haven't seen your dress yet." He nodded towards the bathroom and grabbed the duffel with his arrow gear off the table. "Go get changed. We need to head out."
Felicity frowned and stepped into the bathroom. "Oh my God! Oliver!" she screamed. He ducked in to find her holding the tight neon orange dress that he knew would barely cover anything, gaping at him.
"Well, I thought it would go well with the stache. After all, what's a pimp without his girl?" he asked, winking, and ducked back out when she threw a toilet paper roll at his head, laughing as he headed upstairs.