Written in response to a review I got here on . If you're the anon this is based off of - in the future, be constructive, be kind, or be silent. I'm sure you didn't mean to come off as an asshole, but surprise, you did. I'm 34 weeks pregnant, and the full time working mother of three kids. If you find my fics aimless, you can feel free to not read them.

Enjoy.

When Oliver finally parked his bike in the back lot at Verdant after a long night patrolling and headed to the side entry leading down to the foundry, he was expecting the usual. Felicity winding down with some wine, maybe humming along to whatever was playing on the pop charts. Diggle putting away equipment, a beer half-finished on the side table.

The usual.

What he wasn't expecting was the sound of Felicity's "loud voice" carrying up the stairs the minute he punched in the access code.

He rushed down, worried that something had happened, and more importantly, to help bail out John if he'd been the source of her wrath. (Although, if Digg had done something to garner the "loud voice", he probably had it coming.)

"Unbelievable!" Felicity was yelling, storming around the foundry as she put, no slammed, things into their proper place. Oliver winced as she practically flung his suture kit into one of the medical drawers.

"I mean, what the fuck was even the point?!"

Whoa. Oliver had heard Felicity swear exactly three times in the years he'd known her, and each time had been completely called for, and generally involved dire circumstances.

He slid over to Diggle, who was standing against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and out of Felicity's way.

"What's going on?" he murmured.

Diggle sighed. "Some guy commented on an article she wrote last week for a tech magazine. Apparently it wasn't a great comment."

Felicity was suddenly right in front of them.

"Not a great comment?" she asked, her voice dangerously low, and Oliver swallowed, trying to back away but blocked by the wall.

"No, no, no, no, no. See, a flame I could understand. You want to disagree with my opinion? That's fine. You want to give me some constructive criticism? I can handle that. I rely on that. NO. This guy, this obnoxious, entitled, sad sack of pathetic narcissism," Oliver found his eyes widening. Wow, she got articulate when she was angry. "This guy, felt the need to take the time out of his day to tell me he thought my article was "cute" but kind of aimless. And he did it anonymously!"

Felicity stormed off again, sitting down with a huff and beginning to type furiously at her keyboard, a slightly unhinged laugh emanating from her every few seconds.

"How long has she been like this?"

Diggle leaned in. "She got the review about ten minutes ago. Just after you said you were coming back in."

Oliver frowned, unzipping his jacket. "I don't get it. It doesn't sound that bad..." He was sure he'd been quiet enough that Felicity wouldn't hear him, but she had.

"Not that bad, Oliver?!" she asked, head whipping around to glare at him. Oliver had been in the middle of removing his suspenders and froze, one strap down and the other stretched above his shoulder in his hand.

"Let me put it this way. I worked hard on that article. I have zero time between work, and you, and the foundry, but I still made the effort to sit down and write up that article. The tiny bit of free time I had to myself, I used to put something out there that I thought was noteworthy. I lost sleep over this article. Do you know what a high commodity sleep is for me at this point, Oliver?"

Just a sudden as the onslaught had come, Felicity seemed to deflate.

She shook her head, turning back to the computers, and sighed.

"I mean, really, why say anything at all? Why did he say anything at all?"

Her shoulders slumped and she went back to typing.

Oliver glanced at Diggle and nodded towards the wine cooler they kept down in the foundry. Digg headed over, grabbing a corkscrew from a drawer, and Oliver finished getting rid of his suspenders and gloves. He pulled up a chair next to Felicity.

"Hey," he said softly, turning her chair to face him. She still looked upset, but the fight had gone out of her.

"Some people, they just need to hear themselves talk. Or see themselves type, in this case. Like you said, it's narcissism. And you're right, there wasn't any point to it."

Felicity frowned.

"But that doesn't mean your work wasn't worthwhile, or that other people didn't appreciate it." Diggle was next to them a moment later, setting down a glass of wine in front of Felicity and handing Oliver a beer. Felicity managed a small smile.

"Was the guy an asshole? Absolutely. But he's also a coward, and probably hasn't done anything better himself. If he actually had a valid opinion he would have left something constructive."

Felicity had picked up her glass and was swirling the red liquid, staring down into it morosely. She took a sip and sighed.

"You know what, though?" Oliver asked, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You've got two willing audience members here who would be happy to listen to your article… If you wanted to read it to us?"

Felicity frowned. "Really? You're interested in this sort of thing?"

Oliver quickly glanced toward Diggle, who nodded, speaking up.

"We're interested in you, Felicity, and the things that are important to you. And I don't know about Oliver, but I for one want to hear this article that you actually agreed to write instead of sleeping. We know better than to wake you up if you're sleeping. Anything that could come between you and your bed is definitely worth listening to."

Felicity smiled brightly at both of them and typed quickly, pulling up the website for what Oliver knew was one of her favorite online tech magazines.

He leaned back in his chair with his beer, as Digg settled down on the edge of the desk, and then Felicity started reading.

Most of it went over his head. Probably over both their heads. But he still listened with rapt attention, letting the sound of her voice wash over him, the only sound in the foundry, and smiled.