Author's Note: I'm sorry for the delay guys. I've been pretty busy with classes and now that the year is winding down things are kicking into high gear. I had a midterm this week (that I needed to do well on, so fingers crossed) and several big papers/projects coming up. But no fear, I'm not giving up on this work! Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited so far.

Oliver clasped his hands over his head and stretched until his muscles burned. Whatever he might say to his friends, he didn't deny that it had been nice to wake up in a real bed. He lie there for some minutes after stretching, relishing the soft sheets and mattress beneath him. He had a habit of sleeping crooked so that his feet didn't hang over the edge of the bed, and he was surprised to see that he hadn't knocked any of the pillows off. Oliver was of the mind to tease Felicity about the necessity of having more than two pillows on a guest bed.

Excessive pillows or not, his body didn't ache as he pulled himself into a sitting position. A cot was better than a cement floor, but a bed was definitely better than a cot. Maybe his friends were right about living in the basement of an industrial building.

Oliver untangled himself from the sheets and crossed to the window. He pulled open the blinds and blinked against the onslaught of sunlight. The sky was a cloudless swathe of blue over the rooftops.

He turned to survey his surroundings in the morning light. The room was clean and sparsely decorated, which surprised him. There was a colorful, abstract painting on the wall across from the bed, and (unsurprisingly) a delicate rendering of computer schematics in thin, crisp lines. Oliver would have found the presence of two such pictures in the same room odd, if the house belonged to anyone other than Felicity. The darkest object in the room seemed to be his black duffel bag, which was tucked against the far wall.

Oliver was accosted with the smell of fresh coffee then, and he smiled. He normally woke early, but he must have slept in if Felicity was awake and making coffee. The thought that he was in her house – that he was going to walk out that door and find her in the other room – was a strange one for Oliver. Showering in her shower was odd enough, but to wake in the morning and know that she was going to be the first person he saw …

He pushed the thought away and retrieved a shirt. Felicity had seen him shirtless plenty of times, but the idea of walking around her house shirtless made him uncomfortable. This was not his space. Houseguests didn't just wander around half clothed.

Before his mind could conjure up an image of half naked people wandering around Felicity's home, Oliver pulled open the bedroom door and padded into the hallway.

Not surprisingly, he found Felicity at the kitchen table. She was still in pajamas – her pants were covered in large neon polka dots – and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. A cup of coffee sat on the table in front of her, little wisps of steam rising unchecked into the air. She hadn't seen him come in; one knee was pulled up to her chest and she was fiddling with some kind of computer chip.

Oliver had never seen her like that. In all the time that he'd known Felicity, he'd never seen her so relaxed. She looked … amazing; sweet, and innocent in a way that he didn't think he ever had been.

He didn't realize he'd stopped moving until he started toward her again. "What's that?" he asked.

"A RAM card," Felicity answered absently. "Since we might only have one computer for a while, I'm upgrading the memory." When she finally looked up at him she offered him a bright smile. "There's coffee, if you want some."

"Cups?"

"Cupboard above the coffee pot."

"Logical," Oliver muttered as he moved into the kitchen. He opened the cupboard in question and almost laughed: it was full of novelty mugs. The first one he saw proclaimed in huge black letters COFFEE OR DEATH. He started to reach for that one, until a bright red one caught his eye. When he read what it said, his mind was made up.

Felicity finished replacing the small RAM cards and then inspected her handiwork. She didn't look up until Oliver had taken a seat across from her. She was about to ask him how he'd slept when she realized what coffee mug he'd chosen; instead of words, all that came out of her mouth was a pleased laugh. The coffee mug stared back at her: INSTANT SUPERHERO JUST ADD COFFEE.

"Cute," Felicity finally managed to sputter. After she'd settled down again she asked, "So how did you sleep?"

"Good," Oliver answered. "Even if most of the bed was taken over by pillows. Why do you have so many?"

"There is no such thing as too many pillows," she countered.

"I think I almost suffocated."

"Oh don't be such a drama queen." Felicity's eyes lit up as she realized what she'd said, a wide grin splitting pale pink lips. "That was good."

"But not original," he teased. "I used to drive my sister crazy with that when we were younger. I even made it her nickname for a while, until she went crying to our mom."

The smile that had appeared only seconds before disappeared completely. He'd been thinking of his sister and how they'd nagged at each other growing up, but the moment he said the word mom those memories vanished. A great pit opened up in his chest, a gaping black hole that sucked all the air from his lungs and clawed at his heart. Just for that minute he'd forgotten that his mother was gone forever. In the space between the sound of his voice and the realization that she was gone, Moira Queen had been alive once again. Oliver was astounded by how fiercely he wanted it to be true, how desperately he wanted to call her just to hear her pick up on the other end.

That wasn't possible though, because his mother was dead. She'd never say his name again, or lecture him on being irresponsible, or even yell at Thea. Losing his father had been hard enough, but his mother … there was no one else on Earth that would love him the way his mother had. And for that tiny span of breath – a blink of an eye, a heartbeat – Oliver felt the desolation of it all in every corner of his soul.

"Oliver?"

He blinked; his lungs expanded as he took a breath; the world continued to turn. Felicity had leaned across the table to wrap a hand around the hand of his that lay on the tabletop. Her thumb brushed over his knuckles.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver."

Behind her glasses, Felicity's eyes were luminous and full of compassion. She did not pity him – Oliver knew what pity looked like – but the way she looked at him made him feel like he wasn't alone. Whatever she'd personally felt for his mother, Oliver didn't doubt for a second that she truly meant those words. Her sincerity didn't change the reality of the situation, but it helped. Felicity helped.

Oliver cleared his throat. Before she could withdraw her hand, he turned his up beneath hers so that their palms came together. He squeezed her hand and tried to smile, although he didn't feel very successful.

"Thank you," he said quietly. Then, as he watched her tiny hand draw back to her side, "So, big plans for today?"

"Well, that RAM card was the final improvement on the computer I've been building for the new lair. I'll bring it over later tonight and hook everything up and run some tests to make sure. And then we can move your stuff over?"

Oliver fixed his best deadpan expression on her. In a moment of absurdity and out of a genuine desire to cheer him up, Felicity responded by wiggling her eyebrows at him. She got the reaction she wanted: Oliver huffed out a chuckle, his shoulders falling forward as he shook his head in response.

"I don't think so," he said finally. "This is your home, and you need your space."

"Oliver," Felicity started, and he could see her winding up for the fight.

"But," he interjected before she could get up to speed, "If it bothers you that much, I'll let you buy me a bed."

Felicity narrowed her eyes. She wasn't thrilled about Oliver's refusal to stay with her – or Digg, for that matter – but it would make her feel better to know that he had a real bed, and not that dingy old cot. She could afford to buy him a bed, although that didn't solve the bathroom problem.

"Fine," she conceded. "But what about the bathroom?"

"There is a bathroom."

"Yes, but not a shower," Felicity countered. "Unless you plan on sponge bathing from the sink."

"Not exactly. If Digg will help me, I think we can tap into the existing water lines and build a shower."

Felicity just sighed. "If you say so." She pulled herself to her feet and carried her now empty coffee mug to the sink. "Come on then."

"What?"

Felicity waved a hand absentmindedly through the air. "Let's go change so we can find a bed."

Oliver finished his coffee quickly and did as he was bid. On his way out of the kitchen he heard her mutter behind him, "That didn't sound as dirty in my head."

He sincerely hoped that Felicity never changed.