Thank you for all the reviews and follows! Very sorry it took me ages to update. The thing is, I am so furious about what happened in the season finale that I don't think I will be able to forgive Oliver for a big long while. So I needed to calm down before continuing to write… and with all the follows this story already has I felt the pressure to deliver!
I don't own anything!
**** SPOILER FOR Season 2 FINALE in the next 3 paragraphs, but the STORY ITSELF IS SPOILER-FREE
Now I'm hoping for a season 3 in which Felicity moves on and comes into her own, guarding her heart a bit better, and being all like "Oliver who?". And I want Oliver to spend the entire season in turmoil and jealousy, because that's what he deserves! Of course we all think, "but he really did mean it when he told her he loved her", and that might very well be true, but he still recklessly played with Felicity's emotions.
He should have told her about his plan beforehand (I feel like her reaction proves that he didn't). She could've handled it way better. And it is her life, her choice – so he cannot just volunteer her to be bait. She would've done it, of course, but it should've been her own choice. Oliver might justify it by saying it was to make it more believable, but we all know that he's not a good liar himself, so he should trust her to be able to pull it off as well. Also, a tiny surveillance camera such a far distance away in a dark, spacious house – how much of the facial expressions would Slade have really been able to see? Point is: totally superfluous to keep Felicity in the dark.
The problem I'm now confronted with is Diggle becoming a dad. While I love this, and it will be a fantastic storyline throughout Season 3, it does not fit at all into this present story. So let's please just all ignore that for the integrity of my fiction. For the purpose of my story, Layla is not pregnant and she's off on a mission for several months, so she's not at the forefront of anyone's mind (Diggle of course would miss her, but he's never been one for sharing much).
Longest note ever, sorry. Just felt like I had to rant a bit!
Hope you enjoy!
Saturday – The Setup
She was sitting in a booth of their favorite diner, looking at the menu, drumming her fingers on the table. Lost in thought, Oliver had observed his blond partner for a minute or two through the window (as he often did, but she never knew), before entering to join her. "Good morning," he smiled, sliding into the booth across from her. Mornings that started with seeing her were definitely better mornings than those that didn't. That he got to see her on a Saturday, outside of Queen Consolidated, and during the daytime was even nicer – as much as he loved their nightly (platonic!) activities, this felt more normal, more like something other people would do on the weekend.
He signaled for the waitress and ordered three servings of coffee and pancakes – Diggle would certainly be there soon. Usually, they ended those particularly long nights of crime fighting here, having breakfast together. By now, Felicity must have known the menu by heart, so the fact that she was looking at it at all gave her nervousness away. "Everything alright?" Oliver searched her eyes, hoping to find a clue as to why she seemed slightly upset. She nodded. Before she could open her mouth to tell Oliver she was fine, John arrived and their food was being served.
Felicity started to tell them about her night. How she stayed behind after her two partners had left, how she had done more research on the victims and how she even spoke on the phone to two of the victims' parents that very morning. "I pretended to be one of the police psychologists working on the case and spoke to the mother of Jake, the man found dead three weeks ago, and to the father of Ellen, who was one of the victims last week. They were truly heartbroken …", her voice caught on the first syllable of the last word and almost got stuck in her throat. Closing her eyes for a second and taking a deep breath, she continued to tell Oliver and Diggle that she had received very similar reports from both parents, stating that the couples had both lived together for quite a while and were of the so-cute-and-in-love-that-everyone-around-secretly-hated-them-for-it variety, not willing to hide their happiness from the world.
Oliver thought he saw her eyes filling with water, but no tear escaped, she managed to bottle it up – she knew she had to keep it together if they were going to end this. But for some reason this case affected her particularly deeply. Concluding her report, Felicity appealed to the team. "I'm serious, guys. We have to pull out all the stops and find this monster," looking at both men intently. Diggle reached for her hand, squeezing reassuringly and telling her that they would do whatever it took. She smiled at him thankfully, and the circles his thumb was tracing on the back of her hand relaxed her (something which certainly didn't escape Oliver's attention). Felicity knew in her heart that they were going to get this bastard. She just hoped it would be soon enough before someone else had to die.
"Okay, let's do this. Before we head to the jewelry store this afternoon, you're going to have to move in with me, John." Luckily, her attention was entirely focused on Digg at that point, so she couldn't see that Oliver had coffee coming out of his nose, having choked on said hot beverage in shock. He kicked himself in the head – why hadn't he thought of these details last night? He would've been against this more outspokenly.
"Why does it have to be your apartment? Mine is bigger! My bed is bigger! And – I cannot stress the importance of this enough – my TV is bigger!" Trying to lighten the mood, Diggle put on a mock fight, an attempt Felicity appreciated, so she played along. "Well, honey, all you need is your clothes. I need my entire wardrobe, my shoes, my bathroom supplies and," she pointed her finger at him, sternly, "you forget Sheldon. I cannot leave him alone for that long!"
Within just a few moments, Oliver was completely lost. The thoughts racing through his mind were (not necessarily in this order): Diggle had been inside her apartment? Why hadn't he ever been? Digg had been in her bedroom? Long enough to appraise the size of her bed? And who the hell was Sheldon? That last bit he had apparently said out loud, because Diggle answered "Her pet chameleon," without looking at Oliver, still laughing with Felicity and struggling to get away from her index finger, which she used to poke him in the chest.
Ignoring his partner on purpose, Diggle could feel waves of irritation come from Oliver's corner of the booth. When he finally looked at him again, he could tell that his mood had turned slightly sour. Good. He was about to teach Oliver a thing or two about Felicity Smoak and he was going to force him to pay close attention. Rubbing his special connection with her into his face was a first step.
After Felicity had excused herself to go to the bathroom, Oliver shifted uneasily in his seat, trying not to just torpedo his friend with all the questions he had. In what he thought was a markedly casual tone (it wasn't), he finally asked, "Um, so… how do you know Felicity's apartment so well?" To hide the smile that was forcing his lips to curl up, Diggle just shrugged and took another bite of his pancake, munching at a leisurely pace to play on his friend's impatience. "Oh, well, you know…", he gestured with his knife and fork.
No, Oliver did not know, otherwise he wouldn't have asked! He bit on the inside of his cheek. "Those months you were gone, after the Undertaking, we did hang out a lot. All the free time we didn't spend revamping the Foundry or looking for you, we spent either at her apartment or mine, you know… cooking, having a beer, watching a movie or a game. Nothing special." He shrugged again and kept chewing. The truth was, they had hung out occasionally, but certainly not all the time – Oliver didn't need to know that, did he?
For some reason, Oliver had insisted on tagging along with Diggle, who had to go to his apartment, pick up a few strategic things he would need for the week, and then move into Felicity's. The trick was to make it seem like he had been living there all along. The police report had shown that all three couples had had break-ins six days before they were abducted. Nothing was ever stolen and no finger prints could be found, so the police hadn't further pursued it. Only later the connection could be made to the Wedding Slasher, who had scoped out his victims.
The police hadn't found any surveillance equipment either, so they had to assume that the guy did old-fashioned stake-outs. Felicity had scoffed when this came to light – she couldn't understand why someone would go to such lengths and not make it easier through the use of technology. Then again, she didn't think like a serial killer. Luckily. In a way, Felicity considered the break-ins a good sign – the killer was working to an exact timeline, so it would be easier to predict his movements. If there was no break-in at her apartment the following day, they could be sure they had failed to raise the murderer's interest and they didn't have to keep their charade up.
When Oliver and Diggle knocked on her apartment door with two big suitcases, she ushered them in and asked them to make it look like her 'fiance' had lived there for months ("but don't touch anything that is a computer… or tablet… phone – in fact, don't touch anything that looks like it needs electricity to work!") while she checked up on the ongoing investigation on the police servers, to make sure they didn't miss any developments. She walked over to the couch, tucked her legs underneath her body and started working on her tablet, her brow furrowed in concentration. Oliver observed her sitting there, completely at ease in her own space, and only registered the third of John's attempts to call his attention to the task at hand.
The moment Oliver had entered the door, he felt at home in Felicity's apartment. It was warm and cozy, full of picture frames, memorabilia and tech-gear. The walls sported sunny hues – it was just a perfect reflection of her personality. Before they started to unpack, Diggle introduced him to Sheldon, who was hanging out on a piece of wood in his terrarium, squinting around, not acknowledging their presence in the least. Wondering whether there was a treat particularly well-liked by chameleons, he made a note to himself to do some research. He resolved to become that reptile's new best friend, even if it required a bribe.
It only took them 15 minutes to distribute John's things around the apartment. The bulk was clothes to be put in the closet – a third of which Felicity had already emptied for him (she made the executive decision that he was not going to get half). A few toiletries in the bathroom, shoes in the hallway, jackets in the wardrobe at the entrance, some DVDs, video games and an xBox in the living room and a few of his family pictures spread across the flat.
Digg had also brought his favorite, a snapshot of himself and his brother, with their mother in the middle from when they had still been young but both of them already slightly taller than their mother. He was in the process of setting this picture down on a side table in the living room, when Felicity was suddenly beside him, lightly touching his arm. "How is she? It was the anniversary of your brother's death last month, wasn't it?" John turned his attention from the photo in his hands to Felicity. Her concern for others was truly remarkable. "She's doing alright. Every time we speak she asks about you." This drew a genuine smile from her lips. "Give Joyce my best next time you speak to her. With everything that's happened, I haven't gotten around to answering her last email yet." In lieu of a reply, he covered her hand with his and squeezed gently.
Neither of them realized that Oliver was watching the friendly (or was it?) scene from the doorway to the kitchen, feeling like an intruder. He meant to turn around and go back into the kitchen quietly, but misjudged the distance to the door frame and ran into it, uttering a curse under his breath, which was loud enough to get the attention of his two partners. Running into a door frame? Really? Since when was he clumsy? He shook his head at his own uncharacteristic behavior. Turning around, slowly, he smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, was just going to get a glass of water." Diggle set to join him in the kitchen, doing an internal victory dance when he found the cupboard with glasses at the first attempt. It was not lost on Oliver that his friend moved in Felicity's apartment like he knew it intimately – in his belly, he felt a stab of … what exactly? He couldn't quite tell.
Oliver groaned, "Do you really think that's necessary?" Felicity squared her shoulders and looked at him via the rearview mirror with conviction sparkling in her eyes. "I think the Wedding Slasher is a monster. He's probably like one of those total psychopaths on TV with a huge freaking wall full of pictures of his victims. So yes, Oliver, I do believe that this kind of detail matters." He knew better than to contradict his determined IT genius. Besides, her suggestion did make a lot of sense – but that didn't mean he had to like it.
During their car ride over to the Foundry, Felicity had dropped what Oliver perceived to be yet another bomb. They would have to take a couple of fake holiday pictures to create a believable backdrop for their alleged four-year-long love-story and make it look rock solid. To Oliver's question whether she 'couldn't just photoshop something', she replied with a deathly glare (did he really think she hadn't thought about that possibility?) and countered, "Diggle hasn't been on a holiday in, like, ever, so there exist no pictures I can work from." Since John had brought a bag with him that contained various accessories for the photo shoot, he must've known already. A pattern emerged, or so Oliver felt, which saw him being kept out of the loop. Mildly irritated, he kept quiet for the rest of the journey.
Having given instructions to Oliver to hang a completely white photographer's backdrop from one of the beams and set up a spotlight, she excused herself to change in the back. He quickly wondered where she had gotten the large canvas from – with all the thought and preparation she had put into this, Oliver couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that Felicity had been working to set this plan in motion already way before she ever told the rest of the team about it. Oliver's musings were interrupted by the sound of bare feet approaching underneath the beam on which he was still sitting, tying the last string securely into place.
Felicity. In a bikini. Luckily, he was half-hidden in the shadows cast by the ceiling directly above him. Otherwise she might have seen his eyes darken or heard him take a very deep breath to try and get his heart rate back to normal. "You're almost done up there?" It took him a while to realize she had spoken to him. "Um… yeah. Done now." He dangled his legs from the beam, then slid off the edge, turning in the process and averting a fall by grabbing onto a metal rail just underneath, which he frequently used to do chin-ups. Hanging there for a few seconds, he mentally prepared to face Felicity in this state of undress up close and personal.
Letting go of the rail, he jumped to the floor and turned around. Apparently, Felicity hadn't expected him to be down quite so soon (or maybe she was mesmerized by the play of muscle under his plain grey t-shirt), as she was still standing in the very spot she had first stopped in, close to her desk. Turning around, Oliver found himself just a few inches from her. His senses heightened through years of training, he couldn't help but notice the faint scent of honey that surrounded her, the strands of her long hair that gleamed golden in the light, the smoothness of her creamy skin, the slight swell of her breasts hidden underneath the black and coral patterned halter-neck top… He swallowed hard (but inaudibly, he hoped) and balled his hands into fists to keep the urge to touch her at bay. If he could only run his fingers along the curve of her waist…
Fortunately, Diggle chose his time to re-enter from the back wisely, wearing a pair of bright yellow swimming trunks. "Okay, let's do this!", he proclaimed rather enthusiastically, rubbing his hands like a kid anticipating a trip to the toy store. Felicity turned around, smiling at his childish excitement. "Looking good, Digg! Now you have the outfit, we only need to book an actual beach holiday. Oliver, I say we take your private plane and escape to the Caymans for a Team Arrow fake honeymoon, after we've saved the city from yet another serial killer." John could positively see his friend's eyes glaze over with the delightful prospect of spending a weekend on a white sandy beach with his (more or less secret) object of desire. If he pushed Oliver far enough this week, he knew he could make it happen. He might even be just confident enough to bet his new swimming trunks on it.
After handing over a digital camera to Oliver, Felicity switched on the bright spotlight and stood on top and in front of the white background, holding her hand out and beckoning her fake fiancé to join her. He took it and positioned himself next to her, unsure of what to do next, "Well… this is a bit awkward…".
"Alright, Oliver, where do you want me," Felicity asked innocently. On the desk. On the floor. On the stairs. He wanted to take her everywhere – but doubted that that was what she had meant. Luckily, his brain-to-mouth filter was working just fine and these remained only thoughts. Oliver Queen was also lucky that he didn't blush (although Diggle would contradict). "Um, let's start with just a normal picture of you two posing as a couple, I guess."
John put his arm around her shoulders, and she hers around his waist, smiling at the camera, but still visibly stiff and slightly uncomfortable. Dutifully, Oliver released the shutter a couple of times. "We look like we just met for the first time, don't we," Felicity asked, apprehensively. "Kinda, yeah," Oliver confirmed after a moment's hesitation, not able to suppress a chuckle despite his best efforts. The chuckle transformed into a silent 'O' on his lips, when he saw Felicity turn towards Digg, grab his face between her hands, raise herself on tiptoes and press her lips firmly to his.
The victim (if that's what you want to call him) of this sudden attack looked just as stunned as Oliver felt. It was kind of like watching a car accident in slow motion – like he was watching his life being crashed into a wall. With the clarity we all have in hindsight, Oliver Queen would probably tell you that this was the very moment he knew. He knew that he could never ever watch Felicity Smoak be with someone else. He realized that, when Barry Allen had been around, he had only quickly glimpsed into the abyss; but his feelings then were easily suppressed, as he had never seen her kiss him, it was a flirtation and nothing serious. If he was ever forced to see her kiss someone for real… he couldn't predict what he'd do. It would probably involve broken bones. But of course his thoughts weren't that clear in the moment when it happened – he was more concerned with trying to accept that she had to pretend to be in love with John throughout this mission. Because that's what it was, just a mission. Right?
"I thought that might help with the awkward…", Felicity gesticulated widely into the space between herself and John and made a funny face. This did indeed help to break the ice, as a deep, heartfelt and very loud laugh broke forth from Diggle's chest. "Pretending to be a couple for a week, we should really appear to be comfortable with public displays of affection." He bent his upper body and approached her quickly. Not understanding what was happening, Felicity took a few quick steps backwards and let out a high-pitched shriek before ending up thrown over his right shoulder. Firmly wrapping one arm around the back of her knees, John was not in the least phased when she fidgeted with her lower legs, trying to free herself from his grip. He looked at Oliver expectantly, reminding the latter that he was probably expected to take a few snapshots (and not obsess about how Digg's other hand, in an attempt to keep her steady, had moved over to the backside of her upper thigh – or was that bit already part of her well-shaped behind, anatomically speaking?).
Felicity turned her head to look at the camera (or Oliver, depending on your interpretation), and pushed the bulk of her hair from her face, so she would be recognizable in the pictures. When she wasn't shrieking, she was laughing, especially after Diggle had discovered that the backs of her knees were quite ticklish. Oliver took a good ten pictures (hurrying as if his life depended on it), before proclaiming, "Alright, got it. You can let her down now." He thought that he had never seen her look so beautiful as in that moment – her mouth wide open in laughter, her eyes sparkling with mirth as her gaze locked with his.
According to Felicity, they needed one more picture of them, this time in formal wear, so after Diggle had set her down on the floor, she took her bag and excused herself to change in the back. She emerged again shortly after, in a beautiful strapless, floor-length dress in sage green. It had a fitting, corsage-like top and a flowing skirt. As John went to change, Felicity approached Oliver, and he realized that she was holding the upper part of her dress closely to her chest. Coming to a halt before him, she turned around, "Would you mind…?"
He stared at the zipper as if it was the first time he had ever seen one. "Um, sure." She gracefully moved all of her hair to fall over one shoulder and Oliver swallowed hard, his eyes wandering over the curves of her shoulder and neck. Placing one hand on her waist, he used his other to carefully inch the zipper upwards, following its trail intently with his eyes. "Thanks," Felicity stepped away from him and picked up a few bobby pins she had placed on her desk, quickly putting her hair up into a messy bun that could pass for an appropriate evening do – without too much scrutiny, but she didn't have time for more. She thought she could feel Oliver's eyes boring into her back, but when she was done with her hair and turned around, he was busy fiddling with the digital camera, looking at the pictures he had taken so far.
They both turned towards John who joined them from the back, cursing under his breath and fiddling with his bow tie as he walked over. With an exasperated sigh, he let both ends fall, signaling his surrender in this particular fight, and looked to his two partners. Sporting a knowing smile, Felicity made his way over to him. Smoothing the lapels of his tuxedo, she set to help him with his predicament.
Observing the scene, Oliver had a vision of himself, in ten years, getting ready for a banquet or benefit of some sort, with Felicity at his side, adjusting his bow tie (he'd been a pro at tying it himself since the age of seven) and smoothing over his jacket. This came to him as a surprise because, although he had dreamt about being with Felicity before, it had never been in such a domestic scene and it had never been that far ahead into the future. Before he could ponder the implications, he was called back into reality by Felicity and John signaling they were ready for round two.
Again standing before the white background, and again slightly stiff, Felicity ventured to suggest, "So I guess posed pictures don't work for us, so why don't we just pretend to dance?" Diggle nodded his head in consent. "Shall we?" He extended his hand, which she accepted with a laugh. Pulling her in closely, he placed his other hand on her back – not gingerly on her waist but possessively in the middle of her back. Although she was wearing high heels, Felicity had trouble reaching all the way up to his neck; thus she placed her left arm so her hand was just at the back of his shoulder. "For the record, you look beautiful," John said with an earnest voice. His dancing partner accepted the compliment gracefully, but, in true Felicity manner, couldn't help but make fun of the situation by adding, "Well, I better, this is a picture from the evening you fell in love with me, after all." "Oh, is that what's happening here?" Digg laughed. They started to sway lightly with imaginary music, keeping their gaze on each other.
While Oliver would normally file this under friendly banter, he couldn't suppress the nagging feeling that he was intruding on an intimate moment here; telling himself that he was being unreasonable, he took a few shots. He was just about to declare that they had what they needed, when a loud "ouch" from Felicity's lips brought the dancing couple to a standstill anyway. Diggle apologized profusely for stepping on her toes, but she just laughed it off, "We're going to have to take some dancing classes before the fake wedding," which cracked them both up.
Rolling his eyes at them, Oliver set to transfer the pictures from the camera to the computer while Felicity and John went on to change back into their normal clothes. It took the IT whiz about half an hour to photoshop the two pictures they had chosen into beach and ballroom backgrounds respectively. Oliver admired the job she had done. Everything, including lighting and shadows, looked convincing. For someone who didn't know them, these photos would show a happy couple, completely in love. Almost eerily convincing, he thought, especially the look in Diggle's eyes… but immediately pushed his jealousy aside. He was being ridiculous.
From everything they knew about the criminal, they had agreed that it would not be necessary to create complete virtual histories. Just to be safe, Felicity had doctored two Facebook accounts, one for herself, one for John, which mirrored the fake relationship details they had agreed upon and featured those two pictures.
If everything went according to plan, Felicity and Diggle would not be able to come by the Foundry for the next week, as the serial killer would be following them around and they couldn't jeopardize the integrity of their secret location. Oliver grabbed three two-way ear pieces they would need for the mission; they proceeded up the stairs, with Felicity being the last and switching the lights off. It was just for a week – but she felt like this was somehow her home, more so than her apartment, where she usually only went to sleep.
Please review :) – next chapter will be about the trip to the jeweler.