First and most importantly, I want to thank my amazing beta Gin2a for her help. Thank you for dealing with my handicap also known as grammar and with my inability to distinguish between "this" and "that". Thank you for all the time you take to make this story a better read! You are awesome!

As always I also want to thank everybody reading and enjoying this story, especially my faithful reviewers: sakura-blossom62, nrdhrd3, Vickstik, Carfa and hopelessromantic1599. You guys make me so happy. Words really can't express what your kind words mean to me. You rock!

7. Passive Aggressive (Placebo)

The flames were crawling over the ceiling. The heat was nearly unbearable, the air was filled with burning fumes, making it hard to see and to breathe. But Oliver knew that there was a woman nearby. He had heard her call for help not long ago, but now she was silent. The fire was so bright, clawing at the walls like an angry animal. He knew he didn't have much time left, before he had to leave this building or lose consciousness himself.

He made his way around the next corner of this long hall. Doors were visible to the left and the right. They were all closed. He had opened a few of them, but had only been greeted by walls of fire each time. He had already brought quite a few people to safety, carried them toward the grass that spread out in front of this building, he knew the fire fighters would be here any moment, but he couldn't just leave when he had heard somebody call for help. This was a hospital on fire, he had been called for help by a woman who was sick and could most likely not help herself, and he wouldn't let her down.

A cough crawled up his throat, which burned with the smoke he had inhaled, but he still quickened his steps. Suddenly, he saw a shape in the smolder billowing around him. He hurried toward it and found that the 'it' was a 'she'. A woman lay there, bundled up into a ball. Quickly, Oliver lifted her up. His steps were heavier now – not only because he was carrying a person in his arms, but because he had trouble seeing through the smoke. He had trouble keeping himself up, trouble breathing. But he willed himself to stay conscious to move one foot in front of the other.

Willpower, it was one of the things that had kept him alive during five hellish years. He had survived these five years where he had been to hell and back, and he wasn't willing to die now, not when he had survived everything else. He fought on and just held his breath as long as he could to reduce the fumes he inhaled. But, damn, this took too long. There had to be a quicker way out. He reached the staircase and used his bow to break one of the windows. Within moments a rope was spread between the building and the nearest tree. Holding onto the unconscious woman, he hooked his bow into the rope and was gliding down toward the ground with her in seconds. Gently, he placed her on the ground and saw a medic run toward them instantly.

The old building was burning brightly behind him. Flames were leaking out of the windows; the fire was angrily cracking in the night. Oliver knew that there was no use going back in. The fire fighters were already at work, and it was time for him to get to the Foundry and some fresh oxygen into his burning lunges. He had to cough again. He started moving as he heard the medic behind him yell that he should wait and let himself be checked, but that was the last thing Oliver wanted. He ignored how difficult it was to breathe as best as he could and ran to his (new) bike. He had to get out of here.

People took oxygen for granted. At least, normal people did. But Oliver wasn't normal in that regard. As someone who had nearly drowned multiple times, he knew the importance of getting a good lungful of air. Which was what he was getting right now. He pressed the mask, which covered his nose and mouth and was connected to an oxygen tank, against his face and inhaled deeply. He felt the looks of his two partners on him, but they kept from commenting on it.

Instead, Felicity said, "I have some news that you will not like, which is why I'll tell you while you're busy breathing." Narrowing his eyes, he looked at her as she stood quite a few steps away from where he sat. "As you know I spent the last few days looking into every aspect of the Vertigo-victims' lives. I have started to call them that. It has a nice ring to it, I think. Even though, what happened is of course not nice at all..." Oliver let his eyes do the talking for him, and thankfully that was enough to get her back on topic. "They were all very, very ordinary people. Normal jobs, normal financial situation, normal family lives. Nothing special." Okay, she was right, he didn't like that at all; another dead-end. "But then I checked Vertigo-victim Matthew Walker. Of course, he was the last on my list, which was ordered alphabetically. I like the alphabet. I mean, it's pretty useful, but in this case it was a hindrance."

"Felicity!" His voice was raspy – maybe that made his snap even more effective.

She jumped back on point, "Matthew Walker worked at Starling City Asylum."

Oliver frowned. It took him a moment to understand what that meant. "Like the guy who supposedly paid the mobsters who were with the alleged Bomber."

"Yes, like Warren Davis." Felicity nodded. "Now we're at the part you won't like. And I'm sorry, but when I first checked I only looked for hints that Davis was an evil mastermind. But now that the asylum came up again – and it was the only thing that stood out in the least, I checked him again and found something I overlooked before. I'm really sorry."

"What did you find?"

"Davis fired a doctor after Walker filed a complaint about him." She held her pad out to him quickly, "Meet Dr. Jonathan Crane. He's a psychiatrist. He worked at the asylum for five years, but was fired in January. It seems to be a pattern for him, because before he was fired from Stanford where he taught Psychology. Makes you question the standard of Stanford professors, doesn't it?!" Seeing the expression on the men's faces, she hurried to say, "Anyway, it seems like Crane did non-sanctioned experiments on patients at the asylum. That's what his file said, it didn't get into any more detail, but I have some very disturbing images in my head. Very Clockwork Orange." She shuddered. "I saw that movie as a kid, gave me nightmares. I'm just not good with violence." She frowned and thought for a moment, "Seems like I have gotten better with that lately."

Oliver was still studying the picture visible on Felicity's iPad. It showed a pale, skinny man. His eyes lay deep in his head and were surrounded by dark shadows, his cheekbones were protruding and his small lips were strangely red. He looked sick somehow. Oliver turned the oxygen tank off and placed the mask on top of it. "Any idea where Crane is now?"

"That might also be a coincidence, Oliver." Diggle reminded now. "I know you're frustrated because we ran into dead-ends with the bombing and Vertigo, but this connection is very thin. Maybe we're connecting two things that are not really connected."

"I don't believe in coincidences," Oliver said, his voice hard. "And we have three things." Seeing the silent question on his friend's face, he added, "The building that burnt down tonight was Starling City Asylum."

Oliver really didn't believe in coincidences. And it was too big of a coincidence that Jonathan Crane was nowhere to be found. It was like he fell off the face of the earth – and Oliver knew how hard it was to disappear without leaving a trace that Felicity Smoak couldn't find. He had instead tried paying a visit to Warren Davis, the director of the asylum, to ask him about Crane and these experiments of his, only to find that Davis had been in the asylum during the fire and the only victim.

That also was too much of a coincidence for Oliver.

And while he was at it, he knew that it wasn't a coincidence that Felicity was still at the lair when he returned from his second errant of the night. It was past two a.m. and way past her bedtime on a Thursday evening when she had to be at her desk at QC early Friday morning. He put his bow down gently and walked toward her, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm checking into Crane's past, but so far I haven't found anything useful."

"Is that really what you're doing?"

"What else would I be doing?"

"Avoiding your mother..."

The look on her face showed him that he had hit the nail on the head. He leaned against the desk next to her, his hands on the edge. His voice was soft as he said, "Talk to me, Felicity."

"It's complicated."

"Isn't it always with family?"

"I feel guilty, because I made her believe that I was ready to get married without telling her. And I'm angry, because she makes me feel guilty. It isn't like she's tried to call me in the last four months! It's not only my fault we're not closer." Now her eyes snapped to Oliver. She pointed a threatening index-finger at him, "You will not give her any money, you hear me. She'll ask you for it, I know she will, but don't give her anything."

Oliver nodded. He wished he could take some of her tension away. He wished he would dare to hug her to him. But he didn't know how to do the first and he didn't dare to do the latter. After the conversation he had with Diggle, Oliver had had to admit to himself that he wanted Felicity. Not in a sexual way... Okay, not ONLY in a sexual way. He wanted her to be his. He had admitted this to himself.

But he wasn't ready to admit this to her.

"I obviously don't know your mom very well, but I don't think she came just to collect some money."

"No," Felicity agreed. "She didn't. But," she swiveled in her chair to fully turn to him, "she just came here and brought with her some things that I thought I had grown out off. I thought I had left Las Vegas behind. It's like... my 'Lizzy' to your 'Ollie'."

He understood perfectly what she wanted to say with that. It was something that they felt didn't fit them anymore, they had stopped being those people, but others failed to realize that. But maybe it was also them failing to accept reality. He looked at her, his head tipped to the side a little. "Felicity, it's where you grew up. It will always be a part of you." He accompanied his next words with a small smile, "And it can't be that bad, because I like the whole you."

He was rewarded by one of Felicity's most beautiful smiles. He couldn't help but return it. Some defenses were simply destroyed for good.

Uncharacteristically, it was her ending the moment by leaning her head back in her chair and sighing. "I'm dreading tomorrow. It will be awful."

He swallowed. "Just so you know, my mother wanted me to get you an engagement ring..."

She snapped up into a straight position instantly, "Oh."

"I didn't buy one."

"Of course. Good. That's good. Very okay." Felicity's voice sounded strange when she said that. "I'm used to your mother being passive aggressive."

He looked at her for a long moment, but he just couldn't come up with anything smart to say. "Come on," he finally stated and got up from the desk. "It's time to go home."

Verdant was not in full-party mode, but that was actually perfect for the occasion. This was a party for people to mingle and to make an appearance – because this whole engagement party was about appearances and nothing else. It wasn't about drinking, dancing the night away and having fun. Blinking disco lights and loud music wouldn't be adequate. Thea had toned it down appropriately, she had added some more tables and seats; the decorations were tasteful and most likely very expensive.

It was a change of pace from the usual Friday night at Verdant. Just like Oliver holding Felicity's hand was a change from their normal routine of non-touching. They stood next to each other with Dent Bradfort at the moment, who Oliver despised with everything he had, while keeping his patented polite smile on his face. "I think that Star Labs could be a great asset," Oliver was saying at the moment.

"It's overpriced," Bradfort objected. "I think investing in our existing science devision will be more fruitful in the long run. We also need to improve the IT-department."

"Why?" Of course, Felicity would ask that.

Dent turned to her like he was surprised she dared to enter this conversation. He was a man who liked his women pretty and quiet. Felicity only fit one of these requirements. "Analysis show that efficiency is down by 12 percent in the last seven months."

"Maybe they lost an important staff member..."

Hearing this, Oliver had to bite back a grin. They most definitely had. He registered Bradfort saying something to the effect that one person couldn't be the reason for such a decline – and if it was, there had been something wrong with this department to begin with. He registered him saying that, but his attention was really placed on John Diggle, who was heading directly his way, looking serious. This caused Oliver to stop Felicity from saying whatever she wanted to say to QC's most influential board member, "Dent, thank you very much for coming tonight. It means a lot to us."

"Of course," Bradfort smiled one of his own fake smiles, "I wish you two all the best."

"Thank you. If you will excuse us for now," Oliver said, "seems like we have some organizational matters to discuss."

Bradfort excused them, and Oliver quickly pulled Felicity with him to meet Diggle in the nearest corner. The supposed bodyguard / driver didn't wait for his supposed boss to ask him what was going on. "We have a possible Vertigo-alert. Somebody just called SCPD to report a lone gas-canister on downtown's central plaza. It might be nothing, but if it is..."

It was a wide open space, open-air. It wasn't a closed room as it had been before. Diggle was right, it might be nothing. But he was also right with what he was not saying; if it was something, it was much more dangerous than they had dared to anticipate. This might be either no thread at all, because the wind thinned the gas too much to do any damage, or the wind carried the toxins all over the city resulting in an epidemic that couldn't be stopped. This left him no choice, "I have to go check it out."

He was about to move, when Felicity's hand closing around his stopped him. "You want to leave now?!"

He frowned. "I have to."

"But this is our engagement party." Realizing what she had said and what it sounded like, she hurried to add. "I didn't mean it like don't leave me alone at our engagement party, but more like don't leave me alone at our engagement party."

"Felicity, that's the same sentence."

"You cannot leave me here, with all these people I don't know. And the people I do know. Like your mom, and my mom, all in the same room."

He didn't have time for this. He felt his body tensing up, getting ready for a fight. He was getting into battle mode and he didn't have time to discuss this with her when she should know all this. "I have to go. I promise to hurry."

With that her hand fell from his. He was already heading toward the lair to change when he heard her mutter behind him, "If that's what our fake engagement is like, I don't even want to know what our fake marriage will bring."

The canister was about the same size as a galleon of water. It was bright orange which made it nearly impossible to overlook. At the same time it clearly signaled danger. Whoever had placed it there wanted it to be found. Oliver stood on a near rooftop to observe the scene. He wasn't exactly an expert in chemical weapons and he secretly was somehow relieved that SCPD had arrived before him and had secured the area. If Oliver wanted to get near the canister he would have to do so in front of everybody, and he wasn't willing to do that yet, because he had no idea what to do once he was there.

Instead, he watched the two men in full-body plastic suits cautiously approach the thing. This proved that Detective Quentin Lance was down there. He was anticipatory enough to call biohazard-experts after the truth behind that supposed mass-suicide had been revealed.

Oliver knew that he wasn't of much use right now, but he felt like he needed to stay and see firsthand what was happening. The two guys had now reached the canister and held an analyzer of some sort out to it. As it came close to the top of the canister, suddenly a bright orange mist started spraying from it.

Oliver felt the blood freeze in his veins for a millisecond, before the thought that this timing was just too perfect popped up in his head. Instantly, he glanced around and saw nothing. Following another hunch he walked to the side of the building and looked down. There he saw what he had been looking for; a figure was standing nearly directly beneath him, in the small alley that was created by two buildings. Without thinking any further, Oliver jumped over the edge of the roof. He fell for a short second before his hands closed around the metal handrail of a fire escape attached to the building. He held on to it, slowing his fall, but let go nearly instantly only to grab the handrail two stories below. Then his feet touched the ground. He landed directly behind the man who had observed the scene with some sort of trigger in his left hand.

The guy had turned around, no doubt alerted by the rattling of the fire escape during Oliver's rapid decent, and now he not only registered a man coming to him, but he also noticed who this exact man was. In the next moment he tried to swing at the Arrow. But Oliver was ready; he ducked the punch and instead bought his own fist up. The next few seconds showed that this man was no fighter. In almost no time he lay unconscious at Oliver's feet, who took the time to get a good look at this man's face. It wasn't Jonathan Crane.

Oliver couldn't say that he was surprised. If the thing with poor Mister Burton and the bombing was any indication, Crane was a guy who liked others to do his dirty work. Which made Oliver, who always made sure to do the most dirty work himself, despise Crane even more. But even though Oliver was not surprised, he was a little disappointed. It would have been nice to end something so easily for once.

He took his eyes of the man – who was more a boy really with flaming red hair and something on his face that might turn into a mustache if he waited another two years – and looked toward the plaza again. The men in their plastic suits were waving their hands at the moment. It was a gesture that was easy to understand. There was no danger there.

No danger – of course that was a good thing. It should be a good thing, but all it did was anger Oliver. What kind of sick game was Crane playing here? And Oliver was absolutely sure that Crane was behind it. He had no real proof – apart from the connection Felicity had dug up and that Diggle called thin – but he just KNEW it was him. He just didn't know what Crane was up to, and WTF he was trying to do here with this charade, jerking people around and scaring them and bringing all these policemen out.

This triggered something in Oliver; maybe that was it. Maybe, this was just a test run for the real thing to see how SCPD would react. Rarely had Oliver wished he was wrong about something, but he really hoped he was mistaken now. Because that could only mean the worst was yet to come.

Which reminded him – he had an engagement party to get back to.

He would much rather be downstairs and working, than upstairs and partying. The plaza was a very public place; there just had to be some security cameras Felicity could try to get footage of. This would be doing something useful about this new Vertigo mess and the bad feeling Oliver had about it. But he had to let it go for tonight. The frustrations, the tenseness, the bad feelings, the ache to hit somebody – he had to let it go, because that was all related to the Arrow. And that could have no place at this party that was all CEO-related.

Oliver was very aware of the fact that somewhere along the line he had turned into a split personality.

At the moment, he didn't like either personality very much.

He closed the secret entrance to the lair; made sure his suit was impeccable and took a deep breath to steady himself. The adrenaline was still there, roaming his body, and he needed to keep that in check. He had just rounded the corner and taken a few steps into the big hall that was the main clubbing area when suddenly Thea headed toward him, "Where WERE you?!"

"An emergency at QC. I tried to make it quick."

The look on Thea's face made it obvious that she was not impressed with him. "Really? You had to GO?!" The sarcasm was dripping from every word as she now added, "Well, thank God you made it quick!" He stared at her, saying nothing, because he knew that if he did say something it would be the wrong thing. Thea obviously didn't expect an answer; instead she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along, "You came just in time to save your fiancée from your passive-aggressive ex."

"What?" He asked, but then he already saw it. Felicity was standing at a bar table holding on to her champagne flute with Laurel opposite to her. The expression on both females' faces made it absolutely clear that this wasn't going well. Without saying anything else to Thea he headed over there and moved to stand next to Felicity. He placed his arm around her as he kissed her temple. "Sorry, I hurried," he said softly, and then he let his arm drop again and turned to look at Laurel. "Laurel, nice you could make it."

"Ollie," she greeted him. "I heard something came up at the office."

"The head of our Russian subsidiary didn't know that I had the evening off."

Laurel nodded and took another sip of champagne. "Felicity was just telling me how you proposed." He felt Felicity glance at him quickly, but Laurel was still talking, "Out of the blue, at dinner. You just asked. I always took you for a guy who'd turn this into more of a show. A guy who'd have a ring with him."

"It was spontaneous," Felicity said now. "It wasn't anything special." She realized what had just left her lips and added, "I mean, of course, it was special. A proposal – that just has to be special, right? It was very special to me, naturally. But it wasn't... with special effects."

Oliver knew what Felicity was doing – and it was typically her to downplay their engagement, to not dream up a big extravagant declaration of love. Felicity probably thought that this would be easier for Oliver's ex to hear, but Oliver knew that she was mistaken. Because even though he didn't know Laurel as well as he used to, he knew that she wasn't a girl for a big show either.

He was proven right in the next moment when Laurel's eyes settled on him. "You spontaneously felt like proposing?" There was hurt in Laurel's voice; it was clearly audible and hard to miss. She took another swing of champagne. It was the alcohol talking, weakening her defenses, stripping her normally perfect manners away, Oliver was very sure of that. He realized right then that he had rarely seen her sober lately.

"We should eat something. I'm hungry. How about you, Laurel? Because I really think you should eat something." Felicity's suggestion was hardly subtle, but Oliver thought it was a good one: Get Laurel away from the champagne and to the buffet.

But Laurel didn't agree, "I'm good, thank you. Ollie, you didn't answer my question. You spontaneously proposed, because it felt right to you?"

Oliver knew who he was talking to here. He was talking to the woman he had fled from when she had wanted commitment. When she had wanted to move in with him, he had taken her sister on a cruise. Settling down had seemed like such a bad idea to him that he had done the most horrible thing to distance himself from her in every way possible.

He had spent many nights on the island thinking about how he had wronged Laurel and that his own commitment issues were basically the reason why he had ended up there. He had lain on the hard ground with nothing but his thoughts to keep him warm. Looking back, he knew that in those dark times he had not imagined the real Laurel, but a glorified vision of the one that had gotten away because he had pushed her. He hadn't really remembered her, but dreamed her up. It had taken Oliver more than a year to truly admit that to himself and to accept that she wasn't who he remembered – just like he wasn't who she believed to know.

Oliver knew that the island had clouded his feelings in the first year he had been back in Starling. His guilty conscience had made him want to make things up to her. He had held on to her, when in reality he had let her go before he had even boarded this damn yacht. Pre-island-Oliver may have been a dick, but he had a reason for not wanting to move in with Laurel – and that went beyond fearing the end of his playboy-lifestyle. Post-island-Oliver knew; had dared to accept the truth. Laurel had never been the one for him. He wished her all the best, he still cared for her deeply, he hated seeing her like this, but all that didn't change one fact, she wasn't the one he wanted.

And he knew that he wasn't the one Laurel wanted either. She had chosen Tommy over him and with good reason. Maybe it was nostalgia that made her act like this, mixing with the alcohol and whatever else that had turned her into a drunk lately, but he knew that this wasn't about him. Not really.

Knowing all these things and knowing how this would sound and seem to her, he answered her question. "I did. It did feel right."

Laurel pursed her lips, annoyed. "That's just great." She emptied her glass. "Good for you two. I wish you all the best." She looked at Oliver now, "You should get a pre-nup. Knowing your track-record and all."

Oliver straightened up now. There was only one reaction to the last sentence, ignore it. "We should get you home."

"I don't want to go home. Now I want to eat. Where's the buffet?" With that Laurel turned around and headed away.

"Wow, she will have a field day when we don't actually get married."

Oliver looked at Felicity who still stood next to him, locking uncomfortable. Not knowing what to say to that, he followed Laurel with his eyes, watching as she swayed past the presented food with a plate in her hand. "We should really get her home."

"I'm not an expert on these things," Felicity admitted now, "but I'm pretty sure that ex-girlfriends are not supposed to come to engagement parties – especially if they're still single. I would never go to one of one of my exes. Not even Nick Harwell's – and we had a very good break-up. As good as a break-up can ever be. It's never the best thing to happen, I guess..."

"It was my fault." Suddenly, Thea suddenly popped up next to them. "I never thought it would be a problem. I mean, Ollie, you and her are friends. And I thought it would be worse not to invite her."

"Oh my God." Felicity's gasp caused Oliver to turn his attention away from his sister and onto her. She was still staring ahead to where Laurel had gone and as he now looked into the same direction as her, her reaction suddenly made absolute sense to him. Because right now Laurel Lance was sitting down – next to Donna Smoak and Moira Queen. Oliver cringed inwardly, but couldn't help but feel like Felicity's next sentence was a little exaggerated, "That's the worst thing that could happen."

He reached for Felicity's arm, "Let's get something to eat."

She didn't bulge, but instead stared at him, "You want to go there? Are you crazy! That's a time bomb waiting to explode and normal people run away from the ticking-" She stopped herself right there when she realized who she was talking to. "Never mind, let's go."

Oliver didn't really care what he picked as he filled his plate up with random things. He wasn't really hungry, all he needed from his buffet was an excuse to join the...

"Off to the table of doom."

You had to give it to Felicity; she may consider the alphabet a hindrance from time to time, but she was really good with words.

Together they walked to the dreaded table. "Oliver," Moira greeted her son with a smile. "I was just asking where you were."

"He had to leave, to go to work, at his engagement party." Donna accentuated every part of this sentence. As if the look she was sending him didn't make it clear enough that she was not exactly pleased with him. "Where I come from, when a man has to work late there's usually a sexy secretary involved."

"Then Felicity doesn't have to worry, she's Ollie's secretary after all." Laurel had organized herself another glass of champagne and was taking a sip so big that it was quite a mouthful.

"Executive Assistant," Felicity corrected automatically.

"Sexy Executive Assistant," Thea winked as she sat down next to her. "I thought I'd join you since you all seemed to be having such a GOOD time."

Moira, being the professional small-talker she was, decided this was the right moment to switch topics, "Felicity, have you already decided on a date?"

Felicity frowned, "A date for what?"

Moira looked at her, "A date for the wedding, of course."

"Oh."

Oliver chose to just answer, "No, we haven't."

"You should start with the planning soon. A good wedding needs twelve to fifteen month to prepare."

"Not in Vegas," Donna added.

"We will not be getting married in Vegas," Felicity objected instantly.

"Why not," the food on Laurel's plate was still untouched but her glass was already worryingly empty, "seems like your mom could organize you a discount?"

Oliver let his eyes wander over the females around him and tried to decide whose two heads to bang together first. The adrenaline he had ridden on during his jump from a rooftop and a very quick fight hadn't dissolved yet – despite his best efforts – and he didn't need a bitchy catfight under the guise of a forced dinner conversation.

"Did you decide on a venue yet?" Moira was still all poise.

"No." Felicity looked very uncomfortable. Oliver honestly felt sorry for her and decided that she wasn't part of the females he felt like slapping right now.

"Don't worry." Thea said now. "I'll help you with the planning. I'll make sure that yours doesn't end up like the Red Wedding – even though, judging by the way this party is going right now..."

Oliver frowned at his sister, "Red Wedding?"

"Seriously?" Felicity stared at him. "You haven't heard about the Red Wedding? Oliver, everybody has heard about that. Even Thea. And if there's one person who's not a suspect of being a nerd it's her."

He shrugged, wordlessly indicating his non-understanding.

"It's from Game of Thrones, a TV-show," Felicity said and waited to see if recognition crossed his face. It didn't. "It's a big hit. And you have no excuse to not know about it since it started after you came back from the island."

Oliver was very aware of the shock suddenly filling the air. The island was something that wasn't discussed around him. He was very sure that every person sitting at this table – maybe excluding Donna – wondered about the island, but Felicity had been the first one to ever bring it up not by asking what had happened but by joking about it, hinting at his lack of Facebook when he had been there. Felicity was the only one present who really knew what the island meant, how it had changed him, and it made sense for her to bring it up so casually. It was okay for her to do so. But ONLY for her.

Which was why he decided to keep this conversation going, to somewhere other than the island. "What about the excuse that you obviously watched it without me?"

This now caught Felicity by surprise. She looked at him, and he could see that she needed a moment to grasp the situation. When she did, she swallowed, "You're right. I will help you catch up on your pop culture references."

"Thank you," Oliver said, glad that they had managed to deflect people's attention. He glanced back at Thea, "But I take it a Red Wedding is something Felicity and I should try to avoid."

"Well, yeah," Thea stated now. "If you're not into the sudden de-"

That was the moment Felicity's hand covered Thea's mouth, "Oliver said he wants to watch it. Don't spoiler him!"

A grin became visible on Thea's face when Felicity let her hand sink again, but it turned into a frown moments later, "I meant to ask you, what's with all this formality? Oliver, Felicity. What happened to using nicknames, Ollie?"

"We don't do nicknames."

Thea looked at her brother. "Oh, really?"

"Really."

"I think you should loosen up." Thea turned to Felicity. "Everybody called him Ollie before..." She stopped herself, looking awkward for letting the conversation go in this direction yet again.

Felicity on the other hand was unfazed, yet again. "I didn't know Oliver before the island."

Oliver looked at her and couldn't help the teasing smile that appeared on his face. "You didn't miss much. I'm more interesting since I returned."

Her eyes shone with amusement as hers met his. "I'm sure you are."

Oliver dared to let himself enjoy this moment that was strangely private in a very public setting. He felt everybody's eyes on him and thought about reaching for Felicity's hand that rested next to her plate on the table, but decided against touching for effect. Especially since it wasn't JUST for effect. And right in that moment it hit him-

"Great," Laurel noisily pushed her chair back. "That's my cue!"

She was walking away in the next moment, when Donna snorted behind her. "Thank God. Normally drunks are more fun than that bitch."

"Mom!"

Oliver tuned out whatever Felicity felt like telling her mother and whatever his own mother added to that, because all his brain capacity was needed to process one shocking realization: He had kissed Felicity's temple. And he had not thought twice about it. Until now.