Dammit. Just when Oliver was really starting to like McKenna, Felicity had to go on a date.
It should've made him happy to see her moving on. It should've made him feel more comfortable about dating McKenna. Sadly, all it did was make him irrationally jealous and distracted the rest of the night. If he hadn't been on a date himself, he would've texted Felicity relentlessly, hoping to convince her Ed What's-His-Face was a bad idea. Those hours without a response had been torture. He was proud of himself for his skill at hiding his irritation from McKenna, especially his ability to smile like nothing was wrong. But while she yammered on about work and whatnot, Oliver ached to march over to Felicity and steal her from that stupid reporter.
He wanted Felicity to be happy, he really did, but there was still a stubborn part of him that demanded she be happy with him. Not that it could ever happen; no way in hell would he put her in more danger. He loved her too damn much. In time he hoped he could handle the thought of her being happy with someone else.
That night he had yet another dream about her, about how happy they could be together. But, like always, the dream ended with her drenched in blood. He woke up in tears, and he willed the nightmare to fuel his resolve to keep her at a distance. The radio alarm clock didn't help, either; when it went off it woke him with "When I was Your Man."
Shut up, Bruno Mars, he grumbled inwardly as he smacked the off button.
Felicity was a ball of bubbly energy as she sat in the Arrow Cave, dividing her attention between the many monitors. Her life had been nothing but lovely since her date with Ed on Friday night; they had two other dates after that! First they went to the planetarium on Sunday night (so romantic!) and then they saw Jack the Giant Slayer last night, which she had been dying to see.
But you know what sucked? Every time she saw Oliver, she still felt an ache in her chest. She looked at him and thought: If only. As happy as Ed made her, a part of her still wanted Oliver very, very much. It wasn't because of the amazing sex, or the fact that he was Oliver freaking Queen; it was because of what she saw when he had opened up to her. No, he didn't tell her about the island, nor did she ask. It was the way he had touched her, smiled at her, joked around with her. He had shed his tough exterior, he had made himself vulnerable. What he had shown her wasn't the spoiled playboy or the damaged vigilante; he was just… Oliver. And damn, was he beautiful.
And she was really missing him.
But Felicity maintained her poker face. She dwelled on Ed Raymond as she did her work and barely noticed Oliver as he beat the crap out of that pole thing. Eventually he had enough, and he was gearing up to go vigilante-ing.
"The next name on the list is Douglas Knox," Oliver said as he pulled on his shirt. "He and I will have a long talk about his involvement in human trafficking. I doubt I'll be gone too long."
"Oliver's putting the fear of God into someone? Must be Wednesday." Felicity quipped. "Not that I have a problem with it this time. I mean, human trafficking? The guy deserves an arrow in his eye socket."
Diggle and Oliver stared at her with concern, and Felicity reconsidered her words.
"Hmm… I think hanging out with you guys is making me violent."
The guys exchanged an amused glance and Oliver took off.
Ah. That was the closest Felicity had gotten to a smile from him since he rejected her. It actually made her feel a little bit better about their relationship, like maybe things really would go back to how they were before Valentine's Day. She really missed his laugh.
Felicity giggled, remembering something.
"What's so funny?" asked Diggle.
Biting her lip to hide her smile, she shook her head.
"Aw, c'mon," he coaxed. "What are you laughing about?"
She looked at him for a moment, then gave in. "Did you know that Oliver is ticklish?"
Diggle chortled. "The Hood is ticklish?"
"Well, not super ticklish..."
"Still, let's hope nobody attacks him with a feather."
"God help us if Feather Man starts wreaking havoc in Starling City."
"And we'd all be doomed if his buddy the Tickler joins in."
The two burst into laughter at the visual of the Hood taking on a feather-themed menace and his partner in crime. Oh, the shame of being tickled into submission by two grown men in spandex…
Suddenly, Felicity didn't feel so good. All that hearty laughter had stirred up her stomach, and nausea was hitting hard.
"No, not fair," she groaned, gripping the desk. Stupid, sensitive stomach. It had been pulling crap like this for a while now. She blamed it on her diet, which she blamed on stress, which she blamed mostly on Oliver.
"What's wrong?" Diggle looked concerned.
"It's my stomach." She put her hand on her forehead and took a deep breath. "I probably shouldn't have eaten those three cans of pie filling."
"You did what?"
"I was craving fruit!"
"So you ate three cans of pie filling?!"
"Stop judging me and get me to the bathroom!"
Felicity almost didn't make it. She pushed away from Diggle, slammed the door, and lifted the toilet seat just in time. Diggle stood outside the bathroom, cringing at the sound of her emptying her stomach.
"Should I go get you some Pepto Bismol?" suggested Diggle.
"Please," she moaned. "And hurry before I throw up my lower intestines."
Mr. Knox had been a pathetically easy man to intimidate. He had started blabbing faster than Oliver could say "You have failed this city." Knox hadn't known as much as Oliver had hoped, but he did discover a solid way to incriminate Knox and send him to jail.
Oliver came back to the cave, not surprised to find that Diggle and Felicity had already left—that is until he saw they had left their things behind.
He panicked for a brief moment before reminding himself that there was no need to jump to conclusions. They probably went out to get dinner. Or maybe they were upstairs for some reason. Yes, he should check upstairs before assuming Felicity was in mortal peril.
There didn't seem to be anyone else in the foundry as he opened the door leading upstairs, wondering if he'd need his bow. Then he heard a painful moan, and it sounded like Felicity.
Horrific images flashed through his head as he ran towards the sound. Who the hell was stupid enough to come in here and hurt Felicity, and what had they done to Diggle? Murderous thoughts raced through his head as he reached the source of the moaning.
"Felicity!" he yelled, trying to turn the door handle. It was locked.
"Go away!"
Well that was an odd thing to say to the guy trying to save you. He was there now; she didn't have to hide in the bathroom all injured and traumatized. "Felicity, it's Oliver."
"I know," she grumbled. "Go away."
"Are you okay?"
"No, I'm puking my brains out."
Oh, thank God. She hadn't been attacked after all.
"Well, that's not good," he replied. "You need your brains."
Just then, Diggle entered the foundry with a plastic grocery bag.
"Dig, how long has she been like this?" Oliver asked quietly as Diggle neared the bathroom door.
"Since—"Diggle paused as Felicity vomited violently again. The men looked at the door with raised eyebrows. "…Since you left. She said it was the three cans of pie filling she ate."
"Pie filling?!"
"I hoovered them and I regret nothing!" Felicity yelled defensively before groaning in agony again.
"I left to get her Pepto Bismol, but I ended up getting her a whole vomit kit." Diggle opened the grocery bag full of Gatorade, saltines, cans of chicken noodle soup, and several different kinds of antacids.
"Didn't you go a little over board?"
Felicity upchucked aggressively again, this time flushing the toilet after doing so.
Oliver sighed. "Never mind. Here. Let me—"
Diggle kept the bag out of reach. "Do you really think she wants you to see her like this?" he whispered.
Oliver clenched his jaw. "Fine. Get her stomach settled then get her home. Take her car and I'll come by and pick you up."
Felicity lay in the back seat of her car, exhausted from throwing up for nearly forty-five minutes. She had been down to mostly bile by the time it stopped. Diggle's supplies had worked well enough to get her out to the car without the threat of more vomiting, and she was finally going home.
"You're a saint, Diggle, you know that?" she mumbled.
Diggle smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. "I hope you learned your lesson."
"Yep. Two cans of pie filling is the limit. Got it."
He laughed. "Is that really what it was, though? You were fine before then."
"My stomach has been a bitch lately. I've been getting nauseous for like, no reason. I think it's because I've been stressed and craving junk food."
"Is being on the team too much for you?"
"I just need time to adjust, I think." She was silent for a few seconds, then she smiled. "Did you hear him?"
Diggle glanced back at her. "What do you mean?"
"He made a joke. Like he used to. I think maybe he'll stop being so cold to me soon."
"I don't know why he started in the first place," he said, wringing the steering wheel.
"Eh, I don't know. I think he realized he was having a fling with a total nerd and decided to back out."
"He had to convince me to be okay with him seeing you, and then he just quits on you a couple days later… I don't know what his problem is."
"Why'd you have to convince him?"
He shook his head. "I thought he was gonna end up hurting you. Turns out I was right."
"Do you think… Do you think he's just trying to protect me?" she asked, remembering how scared Oliver sounded when he tried to open the door.
"If he is, then I hate the way he's doing it."
Diggle helped her into her apartment and placed the bag in the kitchen. She stumbled into her living room and leaned against the back of the couch.
"Thanks, Dig,"
"No problem. I hope your stomach stops acting up."
Felicity laughed humorlessly. "It seems everything about me has been acting up since Oliver visited on Valentine's Day. I've been getting headaches, nap attacks, nausea, irregular periods… Oh, wow, sorry," She blushed. "TMI."
"Damn that boy," Diggle said, trying to ease the awkwardness. "He's throwing you all outta whack."
"I've been kind of a wreck. I mean I still have to work with him because you guys need me and he's been so… you know. And then there're the odd hours and the danger of hunting down criminals."
"It's a lot to handle. You can quit if you need to."
"Yeah, right. What would you guys do without me?"
Diggle thought for a moment. "Lose a suspect, rot in jail, get killed…"
"Exactly." She nodded. "So I'm not going anywhere."
Diggle waited outside Felicity's apartment for Oliver, happy that she was handling Oliver's idiocy. The stress wasn't great for her, but she would adjust with time. And maybe she was right; maybe Oliver was going to stop being such a jerk to her soon. But in the meantime… Diggle had noticed some of the things she listed, and it had him worried that it could get worse, like PTSD-type symptoms. Hopefully this line of work wouldn't prove too much for her.
He couldn't shake this nagging feeling, though; it was like déjà vu. Something felt familiar, something about what she said… The symptoms. Yes, now he remembered. It was right after his brother left for his tour and he looked after Carly. She was tired, her head ached a lot, she was nauseous… and then a few months later…
No. Hell no. That was not what was happening with Felicity. Diggle didn't even want to entertain the idea that Oliver had done far more than stress her out. Nope, nope, nope.
The car pulled up, and Diggle got in.
"How is she?" asked Oliver.
Diggle looked at him, wondering if Oliver really had made a colossal, dumbass move on Valentine's Day that resulted in Felicity being so "stressed out."
"I'm sure she'll be fine." he answered.