July 8th

Being let out of the mansion for something other than a doctor's appointment was nice, but Felicity still felt uncomfortable walking into such an expensive restaurant. Table Salt wasn't really her scene; she would've been more comfortable at Big Belly Burger.

Oliver squeezed her hand reassuringly as they were led to their table. Felicity looked around at the uppity-up couples and businessmen, some of which looked back in surprise and interest. A few phones even came out. She took a deep breath and prayed no paparazzi would show up.

Her baby belly was cumbersome, making it difficult to slide into her seat gracefully. She had to brace a hand against the table as she sat down. A blush rose in her cheeks from embarrassment, and she frowned at the realization that things would only get harder as the baby grew.

"You look beautiful," her boyfriend said, and he clearly meant it. He sat across from her, totally dashing in a dark blue suit. The compliment, along with his smile, made her melt.

"Thanks," She adjusted her glasses and looked away shyly. "I think your mom and sister deserve some credit, though. They helped me get ready."

Moira and Thea had curled her hair, found a dress that accommodated her stomach, loaned her jewelry, and applied her makeup. Before all that, Felicity and Thea bonded while painting their nails. Thea liked her bi-colored style and mimicked it with two opposing shades of blue. Felicity's own were a soft pink and a bold magenta.

"They took to you quickly," He seemed pleased by that. "There've been days when either my mom or Thea wants you all to themselves."

Felicity's smile softened at the comment; some of those days were emotionally charged. Thea told her how afraid she was for Roy and what they'd gone through the night the Glades was leveled. She begged her to never give in and help Roy find the Hood and to always be there for Ollie.

Moira had teared up when confessing how happy she was to have her around, then sobbed remorsefully over the terrible things she did for Malcolm Merlyn. Eyebrows raised, Felicity silently watched Moira pace the bedroom floor while blurting all her pent-up pain. She had to protect her family. Felicity understood that, right? She knew mothers needed to protect their children. Then she started rambling about the yacht, regretting how hard she pushed Robert to defy Malcolm, convinced that if he'd played along longer then the yacht wouldn't have been sabotaged and Oliver wouldn't have suffered on that island. Then she had to order thugs to torture information out of her son. Did she want to do that? No. But if she hadn't, Malcolm wouldn't have been satisfied. And she had Walter kidnapped to protect him! Not that he understood that. He just kept digging and digging and Malcolm would've killed him if Moira hadn't stepped in. Court had been more understanding than her family had, appreciating her shocking press conference and naming of names. Losing face and admitting her sins had kept Queen Consolidated afloat. It was all her. She had endured everything alone. She swallowed her fear and shouldered the responsibility and washed blood from her hands. How could she talk about any of that with her children? How could she say any of that without making them ashamed of her? How could she make Walter understand if he refused to listen? It all ended with Felicity giving her a consoling hug and voicing her agreement.

What was it with Queens, anyway? Why did they feel compelled to tell her their secrets?

Felicity was shaken from her reverie when the waiter arrived with the wine list, then realized they didn't need it. He stammered an apology and took their order.

It also brought her attention to the many looks they were getting. Some people seemed to be laughing at them quietly and making jokes.

"Despite all the unwanted attention, I think this date is going well." remarked Oliver, trying to ease her nerves.

"And it was very nice of you to take me on a real date for once," she responded cheekily. Her eyes flicked to movement over his shoulder and she quickly looked down. "Oh, crap."

"What?"

"Don't turn around!" she muttered insistently. "It's Karla."

He shrugged. "Who's that?"

"Karla Connors. She's this—she works in Human Resources at QC."

"So?"

"Do you remember the night of, um… round two?"

Oliver smirked. "That's a good way to put it."

"Well, before I left work, she asked me to help her get your attention."

"Yeah? What did you say?"

"For one thing, I'd never help a bitch like her snag you—Not that I said that. Um, I told her that I do more than just fix your computer."

"Which is completely true,"

"The next day, she brought her friends to my office to laugh at my ridiculous claim. I convinced them I was kidding."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you weren't."

"I guess she knows that now,"

Shaking his head, he looked back at the cold-hearted harpy. Then he flinched and turned back around. "Perfect. She's with Max Fuller."

She drummed her fingertips on the table and waited for an explanation.

"I slept with his fiancée at the rehearsal dinner."

"Wow, you were quite the selfish bastard before I met you," she stated as an objective observation.

"Last time I saw him he punched me and tried to have his bouncers beat me up."

"Last time I saw Karla she 'accidentally' spilled coffee on my new blouse. I think you win."

"We're not going to let them ruin our night, are we?"

"I want to 'accidentally' club the both of them with a bottle of wine."

He allowed himself a moment to laugh at the visual before taking her hand across the table. "You know why we're here, right?"

"For pasta?" she answered, playing dumb.

"Other than that,"

"Your mom said the steak tartar is really good,"

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "Felicity, five years ago, I was so terrified of having a serious relationship that I cheated with my girlfriend's sister to get out of one. Even when I got back from that island, I never thought I could ever have anything close to what I have with you—"

A flash of light blazed to his right and they looked to see a guy rapidly taking their picture. Damn paparazzo must've snuck in from the back. It was a digital camera without a giant lens that his kind normally used, easier to hide under a coat. Knowing she couldn't hit him, she reached out and smacked the camera from his hand, watching happily as it tumbled to the floor. Then Diggle came charging in and scared him off.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," Diggle said while placing the camera in front of Felicity.

The bodyguard left and the couple sat there knowing that the mood was ruined.

"Um…"

"Sweetie, I don't need a speech. And please don't get down on one knee." She leaned forward as much as her belly would allow. "Of course I'll marry you, Oliver. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I've only been putting off my response because planning a wedding and having you meet the rest of my family sounds more painful than childbirth. And I know that marrying you would have to be some huge event and I'll have to squeeze my fat, pregnant body into a white, designer dress and complete strangers will be taking pictures and judging me and insinuating that I trapped you into marrying me so if this is going to happen I am begging you to see that it happens quietly."

He stared at her, his expression blank. "I only heard up to 'Oliver.' Was the rest important?"

She smiled. "I just babbled about how much I love you for your money."

"Oh, okay," he responded with a playful smile. Then he pulled a small black box from his inside pocket and set it next to her new camera. On it were a vertical stripe of black and gold squares and the letters "HW."

He looked on excitedly as she opened it.

"Woah," Her jaw dropped at the monstrous pear-shaped diamond. "That is… that's pretty big."

"It's 5.68 carats in a platinum setting. Do you like it? If you'd rather have a different shape then we can go—"

"It's perfect." She slapped the box shut and held it to her heart. "It's so, so perfect, Oliver. I love it."

He beamed. "Then put it on,"

"I should put it in a safe. And then I should put that safe inside of a bigger safe."

"It's meant to go on your finger."

Reluctantly, she put the box on the table and opened it again. Oh, how that ring sparkled. She plucked it from the cushion and slid it on her finger.

"How do I look?"

"Like a Queen."

"You dork,"

"Hey, that was clever!"

As her newly adorned left hand held his firm right, the whispers around them turned into squeals and gasps as people saw the rock and realized what happened. Then they were surrounded by applause, which included the waiter once he set their plates in front of them.

After dinner, Diggle helped them push past the media mob and get in the car. As he drove the limo home, Oliver and Felicity cuddled in the back seat.

"Can the wedding be in your backyard, please? And can we only invite a few people?"

"That's not really how the Queens throw parties."

"Pretty please?"
"I think you'll have to take it up with Mom and Thea; they'll be more hands-on than I will."

"Okay. I'll state my case tomorrow, then."

"Why not when we get home? I'm sure they'll want to talk to you."

"I can't because as soon as we get home, I'm having sex with you," she stated firmly, looking him in the eyes.

He gave her his best cocky smirk. "Really?"

"Yes. And all I'm going to wear is this ring."

"What about your glasses?"

"I'll just feel my way around."

Felicity liked Oliver's newfound gentleness, even if she did miss him smashing her up against the wall and pinning her there with little more than the pressure of his hips. They were on their knees on the bed, her hands bracing the headboard while he took her from behind. As promised, the engagement ring was on her finger.

Pretending that nothing special had happened at dinner almost felt naughty; they had entered the mansion and were greeted by curious looks, but the ring was hidden in her purse and the couple was free to hurry upstairs.

The news could wait until morning.

His beard scratched her shoulder as she pulled him closer, her hand on the back of his neck. She hummed low when his fingertips dug into her inner thighs, his solution to stifling a grunt. He felt so powerful yet restrained as he moved, and she pictured what he must look like right now. Mmmm, his Greek-god figure with all its toned muscles moving under beautiful scarred skin, working in perfect rhythm…

And then there was her ballooning body. Her stomach was bigger than the average woman's would be at twenty-two weeks and stretch marks already marred her hips and lower belly. She felt pudgy and awkward and fragile. The juxtaposition she and Oliver created made her laugh out loud.

"What's so funny?" he breathed.

"My luck," She stared at the startling brilliance of the pear-shaped diamond as she said it.

Oliver ran his thumb between her legs, grinning when she yelped happily. "I think your luck is pretty good, considering all that's happened."

She pushed back and he moaned, which turned into a chuckle.

"Are we really playing that game? Because you always lose."

Felicity gripped his hips with both hands and rolled against him with a surprising amount of grace. "Not always."

Their eyes locked, each challenging the other to their favorite game. Then Oliver covered her mouth with a deep kiss. Their tongues dueled as his hands cupped her enlarged breasts. His breathing quickened and she thought she had him this time, but he was suddenly thrusting forcefully inside her. Before she could counter he had her moaning loudly through an orgasm. He followed seconds later.

"I think you fight dirty," she mumbled as he helped her lay on her side.

He smirked, his head nestled in his pillow. Her baby belly was between them. "You nearly had me that time. I know I must've been blurry, but I like it when you look me in the eye like that."

"My husband likes eye sex," she commented. "I'll remember that for future reference."

"Do you remember that time shortly after you joined? I was going after a guy on the list and you thought I was going to kill him and orphan his kid? You locked the door on me and I stormed in and yelled at you. You were so defiant and you just stared me down. I got right in your face and you didn't flinch. If Diggle hadn't been present, I think I would've apologized and taken you on the floor."

"Now that I think about it, that was pretty hot. I'll make sure eye contact is my opening move from now on."

"So, what's my—"

"No, you don't get pointers."

He grinned cheekily. "You're right, I don't need any."

She lazily, harmlessly smacked his arm. "Arrogant bastard."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

Felicity laced her fingers with his, the diamond glinting. "And that's never changing. So don't bother running off on me or pushing me away like before, okay?"

His cheeky grin melted into something sweet. He looked so happy and vulnerable. "I'll never leave you again."

"Ever?" she asked honestly as he brought her fingers to his lips.

"Ever. I'm pretty sure that's what the ring means." He turned her hand and watched the diamond catch the moonlight. "See that? It means you're stuck with me, no matter what hell we put each other through."

"If you're not leaving, I'm not leaving." she said, reminding them of the last time she'd told him that.

"Exactly," He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "But without the 'if'."

(Love is) The Tender Trap by Frank Sinatra.