Chpt 2: Big Belly Confessions

I hate this dynamic. For the last two weeks, Felicity has been the last to arrive at the foundry. She is freshly showered and dressed down in her casuals. What worries me the most is that she barely says a word when she is here. Oliver stays on the far side of the room. He and Sarah speak in hushed tones. Our sparring matches are subdued at best. It's too quiet. Sarah is headed upstairs to work behind the bar at Verdant. She kisses Oliver goodbye and he stiffens as he always does. She must notice. Maybe she hopes that one day he won't. I rest my hand on Felicity's shoulder, and she acknowledges me with a tilt of her head. Her cheek briefly lands on the back of my hand, her nimble fingers never missing a stroke of the keys. "I'm taking Oliver to the Big Belly. Will you be here when we get back?"

She shakes her head. "No, I'm heading out early tonight. Brant plays basketball in a men's league at the gym. He asked me to come."

I smile, but it is perfunctory. I am happy for Felicity. This guy, Brant, has a clean record, and he seems to treat her well. Hell, he's a fireman, but he isn't Oliver, and Oliver is my friend. He won't survive without Felicity. But Felicity is my friend too, and I'm afraid she will not survive with Oliver. I don't blame him, but everyone he touches seems to turn to shit. Let's review. Laurel needs rehab. Sarah fell in the ocean only to resurface in hell. McKenna was shot. Helena lost her mind. Not sure I can blame that on Oliver. Isobel is Isobel. Not sure I can blame that on Oliver either. And Felicity, well she doesn't smile… or ramble like she used to. I clear my throat and wait for Oliver to stop beating the hell out of our last remaining training dummy. He stops and I toss him a towel. "I'm getting something to eat. You coming?" His gaze flicks to Felicity across the room. "She has a date," I tell him, and I am surprised at the accusation in my voice. Oliver scowls, but I'm not sure if it is because of my tone or the simple fact that Felicity indeed has a date. He walks past me and grabs his shirt. I take that as a "yes" and head for the steps leading to Verdant. "Later Fe," I say as we pass by her computers. She waves without taking her eyes from the screens. Oliver says nothing, but he slows as if he might before he thinks better of it. Felicity stiffens, but her fingers never slow. She is getting too good at this, and it worries me.

Oliver sits across from me at a booth by the window. We order our usual, and he glances at me before turning his attention to the emptiness outside. I watch him avoiding me for a second before I chuckle at how ridiculous this is. That earns a glare. I shake my head. Fear is not one of the emotions that Oliver elicits in me. Exasperation, anger, frustration, and even a little empathy… those I am familiar with, but not fear, never fear. "You want to talk about it," I ask. He rolls his eyes. "That doesn't work with me." He turns his attention back to whatever it is he sees through the window. "This shit's gettin' old, you know."

"Would you like to be more specific?" Finally, a response. I'll take it.

"This mission you're on to isolate yourself from everyone that cares about you."

"The only mission I'm on is to stop Slade Wilson from killing everyone I care about."

"What, by pushing them away? And by 'them', I mean Felicity."

Something akin to anguish slides across his face. "That was her choice, Digg, not mine."

"Because she asked you to stop touching her?"

He is surprised that I know. It isn't often that I surprise him. He regains his composure, mask in place and says, "She told you that?" as evenly as if he is asking for a refill on his Coke.

"She tells me a lot."

His brow furrows and he is silent. I know he is jealous of my friendship with Felicity. I shouldn't gloat, but… "You understand why she asked you to stop, right?"

"I…" He stumbles on his words and looks toward the ceiling to gather his thoughts. Good, he's been thinking about it. When he finally speaks, he is cautious. His words are delivered slowly and deliberately. "I think she's going to leave… QC… the Arrow… me."

That is not the response that I expected, but I am curious. "What makes you think so?"

"She's different. We're different. Things have changed and not for the better. She used to be the first one to the foundry, and I had to practically force her to leave. Now she shows up late and jets out early. She has a life outside of…."

"Outside of you." He retreats from the truth and sinks back into the booth. "Oliver, you had to know this day was coming. I don't think Felicity is ready to quit either of her jobs. But, I do think she's had enough." His jaw clinches and I allow him a second to contain his anger. "Look, I'm not saying this to hurt you, Oliver, but you've had that girl on stand by for too long. She's special. And a woman like that doesn't come along every day. You either care about her or you don't. If you don't, then you have to find a way to let her go. She has a chance to be happy, and I'm proud of her for taking it. But if you do care about her, then you better hurry up and tell her because this "maybe yes, maybe no" is killing all of us. You included. She didn't ask you to stop touching her because she's leaving Oliver. She asked you to stop because she can't leave. She believes in what we're doing out there. She believes in you, and she's willing to put aside her personal feelings for the good of the mission, but every time you touch her, every time you stand a little too close or look at her a little too long, you make her hope that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for the two of you. It's selfish Oliver. Kudos to her for calling you on it."

He smiles woefully. Again, not the reaction I was expecting. "She always calls me on my bullshit. It's one of the reasons I love her." He says it more to himself than to me, and I watch as he realizes what it is he has just confessed.

The waitress brings our food, and I give him a second to gather himself before I state the obvious. "You need to fix this."

"How?" He scrubs his face. He is agitated. "What about Sarah?"

"Be honest with her." I shrug as if it were that easy. "I don't think she'll be that surprised."

"Why? Because I'm an ass and breaking her heart was inevitable?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't think you're gonna' break her heart. I don't think it's yours to break." He glares at me for only a second and then rolls his eyes on a sigh. He agrees.

"Are you worried she'll leave the team?" I ask. Strategically speaking, it would be a hard blow if she did.

He shakes his head. "Not until we beat Slade. After that, who knows?"

"I hate to complicate things, Oliver, but what about Felicity?"

"I can't… I won't make her more of a target than she already is. If Slade is watching her, then this Brant guy is the best thing that could have happened."

I snort at the way he says his name. I've heard Oliver spit venom before, but that was classic. I get a scowl in return. "You know Felicity would call that look 'growly face' if she were here." That earns a ghost of a smile.

"Digg, I won't let anything happen to her. Our mission is one, keep Felicity safe and two, take down Slade. Are we agreed?"

I nod. "We're agreed."

We eat in silence until our plates are nearly clean. Correction, my plate is clean. Oliver has effectively shoved his food around for the last thirty minutes. He's contemplating asking me something, but I know not to push. "Do I really touch her that much?"

"You would be shocked at how many times you touch her in a twenty-four hour period." Poor guy, he looks confused so I illiterate the facts. "You keep your hand on her lower back when you walk together. You slide your fingers down her arm when you're talking. You keep your hand on her shoulder or around her shoulders when you stand by her computer desk. You like the way she blushes when you stand too close to her especially when you're shirtless and sweaty. It's pathetic, really."

"Do you think Sarah notices?"

"That would be an affirmative."

"Damn it. I never met to hurt her, Digg."

"Who?"

This time Oliver snorts. "Either one of them."

"Lesser men would kill for your problems, Oliver," I say as I grab the check, effectively declining an invitation to his pity party, as always. "Come on. We need to get back."

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. Just a little male bonding in this one. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always appreciated!