Prompt from felicitysmoak-addict: Felicity meets Oliver in a frat party, he is kinda drunk and the cops swarm into the frat house.

This is the first time I've written AU. Ever. And probably the most dialogue in anything I've ever written. Enjoy!

Felicity had never been much for parties. Growing up in Vegas, surrounded by the noise and din of casinos and clubs, she had always craved the quiet moments more than the loud ones. The time she spent locked in her bedroom with a computer or curled in the living room chair with a book; those were her idea of fun.

The same was true as she moved through life and made it to college. The lights and rush of Starling City were just fine from her dorm window, even beautiful sometimes, but in the midst of it all, it was a bit overwhelming.

Suffice to say, there is a list places she'd rather be than pushing through the raging crowd in the middle of a fraternity party at its hectic peak.

Strangers bumped and shoved against her and her eyes scan the room as she looked for any sign of her roommate's red hair. The girl had disappeared to get drinks fifteen minutes ago, and Felicity still couldn't spot her.

Heading in the direction she'd seen her roommate go last, she escaped into the small kitchen. A few people were mulling about, but it was mostly quiet and she slumped against the counter. Her hand came up to rub at her temples in an attempt to offset the inevitable headache from the pounding bass of the music.

It was the tap on her shoulder that made her finally open her eyes several minutes later.

"Sorry, I'll get out of the kitchen," she said as she came out of her daze and turned around to face whatever partygoer decided to interrupt her moment of peace.

"No, I just need," A hand reached toward her and snatched up a bottle opener she hadn't realized was under her bag, "this."

Felicity appraised the stranger, taller than her even with some of her highest heels helping out. He was vaguely familiar, bright blue eyes and a smile that dripped charm and knew it, but she couldn't place him.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered halfheartedly, eyes already looking past him in hopes that she may catch sight of the redhead she'd been looking for to begin with. No luck.

"It's no problem." The stranger said and flashed his smile at her and watched her like he expected her to melt in front of him. He smelled like alcohol.

She hummed and rested herself against the counter again, dropped her purse by her feet and prepared to wait out the next wave of the party until she could leave. She expected her new acquaintance to move along, get back to the party, but he had other ideas, apparently. Before Felicity could even contemplate digging around in her bag for her phone to see if her roommate would answer if she called, his tall frame had joined hers against the kitchen counter.

"So, why so down?" He asked, taking her by surprise, even if she wasn't sure what exactly she had expected.

"What?"

Tall, Blonde and Confident took sip of his drink, "Well, you're at one of the biggest parties of the year, and you're hiding in the kitchen." He said matter-of-factly.

Felicity turned to face him again, pinning him with a steely gaze that made up for the fact that she was several inches shorter than him. "I'm not hiding."

He smiled, and it made her want to smack him. "Call it what you will."

She rolled her eyes at his idiotic smirk, waving him off as a dismissal, but he stayed where he was.

"Come on, what is it?" His expression sobered a little and he nudged her leg with his knee.

"I don't even know you," she said, and scanned the room one more time.

"Oliver," he stuck his hand out, and she couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her at the formal gesture. "There we go! She smiles!" he said, letting loose a beaming grin that seemed far more genuine than the one he'd tried on her a few minutes before.

It takes Felicity a moment to school her expression, but once she trusts herself to speak again she fixed him with a slightly softer look and nods, ignoring his invitation for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Oliver."

"And what should I call you?" The guy, Oliver, gives her a puppy dog look that made her laugh again, much to his amusement.

"Felicity," she said after a beat, and made no effort to wipe the smile from her lips this time.

"Fe-li-ci-ty," he drew her name out, testing it out like it was his first word in a new language.

She nodded for lack of anything better to do, "It means happiness, or something."

Oliver looks her over with a serious expression and tips his beer toward her. "It fits you," he said, and the words come out weighted with meaning even though they hardly know one another and the comment really shouldn't mean anything at all.

Felicity blushed, damn her. "Thank you," she muttered lamely, and suddenly became very aware of the lack of space between their bodies. She stepped back in an attempt to add a few more inches to the gap, but her heel caught on the strap of her bag nothing could stop the yelp that exploded from her mouth as she tumbled backwards.

She fully expected to hit the cold tile floor, but then there were hands around her waist and she was set upright again.

Oliver stood over her, his blue eyes searched her face for what exactly, Felicity wasn't really sure.

His hands were still on her waist as she took a few steadying breaths, his broad chest still just a fraction of an inch from hers with every inhale and she would never be entirely sure if she leaned in first or if it was him.

"Ollie!" A brunette tore through the kitchen, successfully breaking them from whatever spell they seemed to be under and Oliver's arms slid away from her hips as they withdrew awkwardly.

"What is it, Laurel?" Oliver said in an exasperated tone, all but rolling his eyes at the girl that had burst in. Felicity didn't miss the flare that was thrown her way by the other woman.

"The cops are here, we've gotta go!"