Funny. I got asked why this wasn't a one shot like my Felicity time travel one (your life, your choice). The reason's actually very simple. I wrote this one to a) highlight the differences I think they would take in their approaches with the other person, their other half - and b) I wrote this mainly for the scene with Laurel Lance and Quentin and a nice confrontation.
Somehow I'm about 35k in and still not there. Not there for the next two chapters either. It's insane - but yeah. That's why. I figured at so many thousands of words, at least upward of 40k by the end, it just becomes unreadable as a one-shot.
"What-" The front door opens and Moira comes through in an uncustomary rush, still only pulling on her gloves when she enters.
"Oliver!" She exclaims as she enters, not looking at them. "I heard you made breakfast."
He sighs silently to himself.
"Welcome home," he says instead, and she looks up, putting her gloves aside on one of the small tables normally used for the coffee and tea pots, taking in the seating arrangement and the people already sitting at the table.
"Oh- Ms. Smoak. You're still here." She sounds taken aback but gathers herself a mere second later, her polite guest-welcoming smile firmly in place, not a trace of the harried woman who entered the room to be seen. "It is a pleasure to see that you are better. Thank you for joining us for breakfast."
Felicity eyes him hesitantly, shuffling in her seat to be more central so it no longer appears like she is leaning on him, looking eminently uncomfortable under the attention.
"Thank you for having me," she says clearly, but his future-wife can clearly tell Moira is not keen on having her here – nor did she expect her to be.
"Well, the breakfast I made was for her," Oliver says clearly, blue eyes cold and hard as he glares at his mother. "But I was glad to see that you could make time for us and join our breakfast."
His mother stiffens. The message is more than clear – this is not family breakfast; this is Felicity's breakfast. And if she wants to join them, she better be aware of who was actually invited and who the guest is. Thea leans back to mouth 'damn' at him with wide eyes and Oliver feels his lips quirking up against his will, relaxing a bit.
"Come. Join us, mother," he says, voice a bit gentler now, but still making certain she got the message. She was the guest, and she was joining them. Not the other way around. He would not allow Felicity to feel like she was the one intruding.
His mother nods slightly, sitting down formally, back straight.
"Well, this is a very nice spread, son. Did you make all of this?"
Oliver nods. There is, to be fair, a rather large spread. He's ended up with fruit salad, muffins, pancakes, French toast, sandwiches, boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, bacon slices and grilled tomatoes.
"Do you eat like this every day?" Felicity whispers to him, leaning over the arms of their seats, her warm, minty breath, skating over his ear. Fortunately, she's too distracted looking at the food to notice the effect she has on him.
"How can you eat all of this and still look like you just stepped out of a GQ magazine – I mean, GQ wishes. Cause you, you know, you're you and you look like that." She flinches, blush rising on her cheeks; by now, her babble is no longer contained and her voice not as quiet as she probably wishes it were. "Not that I'm saying anything but, I mean, you have mirrors. You must know what you look like."
Thea sends him an amused look like behind Felicity's back.
"Not that I'm saying you had mirrors on the island. Or that you looked at them. And, oh god. This is probably a feast for you, too. The island would have had nothing like this. Frack. Why do I even open my mouth? I'm so sorry, Oliver."
Instead of offended, he finds himself chuckling slightly. Both his mother and Thea had lost all amusement in their expressions, becoming tense at the references to the island and his time on it, but all they're doing is avoiding all reference to it. Like it never happened. He far prefers Felicity's subconscious babbling where she's not asking for answers, not pressuring him, just sharing all her thoughts as they come out.
Naturally, Tommy joins them at this point, his arrival far quieter than his mother's.
"I am really trying to get along with everyone. I don't mean to offend anyone. I just wanted a quiet breakfast with you without rocking the boat."
Oliver is ducking his head down, shoulders shaking, when he feels Felicity freeze beside him, whispering a too-loud for the quiet room "Frack!" eyes clenched shut.
"Ms. Smoak," his mother bursts out, tone reprimanding, while Tommy swears slightly.
He's trying- he really is. But he can't stop himself.
Oliver bursts into laughter. Not the quiet snickering that's easily hidden, but a deep, loud guffaw, full on with his head thrown back and tears in the corner of his eyes.
His family is baffled, he knows, by this turn but he just can't seem to stop himself. He can feel their eyes on him – it's the first time in a long time he's this relaxed, this amused – since the island it's been harder to feel surprised, charmed – to get him to laugh or find something actually funny. But Felicity's always been good at surprising him into chuckling and laughing when he least expects it. It's just – his family hasn't seen him like this. He has changed. His laugh has changed. Everything is so different, and he really should tone it down, but it's difficult.
Finally, when he gathers himself enough to look at Felicity, still chuckling, he repeats "Rock the boat, really? I think you can do better, Smoak," and winks at her. A hesitant smile graces her lips, and the table seems to collectively collapse in relief at his words.
"You don't have to walk on eggshells around me," he tells the rest of the room, but all of his attention is really on her. "Everyone but Felicity is really trying so hard to avoid mentioning whatever words or events you feel I can't handle, using so many empty platitudes, even when we're talking, it's like nothing is being said." He shrugs. "It's refreshing, to have someone who will actually talk with you, someone who says what they're thinking instead of talking around a million other inconsequential things."
He doesn't mention that her talk had fallen rather into the latter category as well, but still, Felicity's smile widens and he finally turns back to the rest of his family, motioning towards the food spread across the table.
"Come on, everyone. Help yourselves or it's gonna get cold and all my hard work will be wasted."
No one seems quite sure, hesitant to be the first one, but after he helps himself to some fruit salad before passing the bowl onto Felicity, everyone finally reaches out to grab something. He can't handle all of the food he made, but most of it should be alright for his stomach, still.
He feels his heart warm up when his family all cautiously taste his food, Tommy's addition of the bagels sadly forgotten on the side, everyone chiming in with pleased hums and surprise at his skills. Felicity is restraining herself from vocalising just how much she loves the French toast he made for her – with bananas and cinnamon, her favourite – but she reaches for him under the table, squeezing his thigh in silent acknowledgment. It's more than enough. This- This is what he missed most of all. This bit of family get-together, these moments where they all actually relax and feel comfortable. Where they bond.
"So, Ollie," Thea starts up after devouring two slices of French toast, ignoring their mother's pointed look towards the elbows she's put on the table so she can lean around to look at him, licking her fingers in silent defiance after having eaten the toast without using cutlery, "before all this," she gestures to the two new arrivals, "you were saying about how this cooking pre-dated me."
"Really?" Tommy looks up, confused. "I don't remember cooking lessons. When was that?"
Oliver doesn't even realise he's been sneaking some of his grapes across to Felicity until he catches Thea staring at him with a raised eyebrow. It was a habit – not a long-term one, but when she'd been pregnant she'd been craving them some weeks like no one's business, so it had been natural for him to pass some of his own back onto her plate without realising what he's doing. He stills himself and pretends to focus on the question to draw attention away from Felicity and his own actions.
"It's from before Tommy, Speedy," he starts easily, "you may not know this but back when you were younger, Tommy didn't always half-live with us. When Rebecca was alive, Malcolm – Tommy's father – was actually there. I mean, he still worked crazy hours, but you could tell he loved them, at least and he sometimes actually went out and did things with them. Unlike now. Anyway, my point is, Tommy was not the half-brother he is now," he says this with half an eye on his mother, but she doesn't so much as flinch. He had always wondered, but he thinks now with certainty that he never had half the composure she had. Half her skill at keeping up his mask. Oliver knows what he's looking for and she's not even showing a sign of guilt, of recognition.
"Only half?" Tommy mutters deliberately loud enough to be heard and Oliver acquiesces with a playful eyeroll and a grin.
"Fine, brother. Anyway, back then he was just a family friend. A kid the same age. He came over sometimes to play, but he spent a lot of his time with his own family. And when dad and mom were overseas or eating canapes or what-have-you, and Tommy with his family, my choice was Max Fuller, Carter Bowen, - or Raisa. Needless to say, Raisa was always my first choice. She's the one who taught me how to cook. It's been a while, but it's not so hard. Especially considering the recipe books in the kitchen."
"Huh," Thea says, head tilted as she looks at him.
"What?" He asks, despite knowing better, having easily spotted the glint of mischief in her eyes.
"Nothing. I just always thought you sprung up out of the ground at age eleven."
"Don't you mean ten?" Felicity asks curiously, having easily done the math in her head.
"Nope. I've seen my baby photos – he's in barely any of them. I think eleven's right."
"Well, you may not know this, Speedy, but I wasn't always wrapped around your little finger," Oliver refutes and his mother protests.
"Oliver, I don't think she needs to know that."
And just like that, the tension is back.
"Thea's seventeen, mom. Going on eighteen. She can handle it." His younger sister, so long as she has their support behind her, is amazingly, astoundingly strong – especially after all she'd been through. Would have been going through? God, tenses are confusing enough without time travel.
"Anyway, Speedy, I had just gained and then lost a brother," he nods in Tommy's direction to avoid any misunderstandings. "as he was back with his father. And then I was told I was going to have a sister. A sister a decade younger; a pooping, crying and playing with dolls – sister. Or at least that's all I'd heard about from others. I wasn't interested and said as much. Had the tantrum of a lifetime, I swear. Anyway, contrary to popular belief, I didn't fall in love with baby-you either. I mean, come on, you looked like a shrivelled potato," Oliver winks and Thea snorts with laughter, not the slightest bit of offended and more interested as he rarely opens up and never really talks with her about before-Thea time. "Plus, all the crying. And suddenly even when mom and dad were home, their attention was on you rather than me." He breathes out, amused, "I was so jealous."
William had handled it a million times better. But to be fair, Oliver thinks, he and Felicity handled it a million times better than his own parents ever did. God, he misses Mia. His and Felicity's own little baby girl. Their tiny little beautiful miracle. That his wife had raised, by herself, into a confident, clever, indomitable young woman he was so, so proud of. Her and William both. But once again he'd missed out on all the important first moments. Had never gotten to take her to kindergarten or preschool. No helping her with homework or through nightmares. No talking to her about boys or first dances. No … anything. Felicity had done all of that – and marvellously, too, but once again, Oliver hadn't been there. He didn't want that again.
He tries and refocus on the here and now – the try again and do better this time, the one where he doesn't disappoint his family.
"But then you were like a year and a half old, your first word, at least that I know of, was me. My name. Tommy had been calling me and you just left Raisa's side and followed us out and then said: Ollie. Nothing else. You just tilted your head in that cute way, pouted and looked at me. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day with you. And rest of your life wrapped around your little finger." Oliver smiles softly at his younger sister.
"And I've never looked back. I've loved you ever since. And you did, too. Followed me everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I tell you, going to the bathroom and being quick enough with your toddling little sister knocking on the door constantly, saying your name increasingly desperately and in tears – that was a lot less fun. Boy, mom and dad were so surprised when they finally came home and I spent time with you instead of them."
Thea's face is actually red – not from tears, but from an actual blush. He can't help but be surprised – he doesn't remember the last time he's seen her actually blush. After a lifetime under media scrutiny, his little sister is pretty immune to embarrassment.
"Aww, that's adorable," Tommy chimes in. "But I don't think that was the highlight. The highlight was definitely the tea parties – those really were the most sickeningly cute thing. This lug was at school, trying to learn how to flirt and pick up girls and then he'd come home and he'd just kind of melt for this whiny, little brat of a three-year-old. He'd let Thea dress him up and everything, play prince, dragon or even princess; anything she wanted."
Oliver lip ticks up when Felicity giggles at the imagery and Thea's looking between him and Tommy, wide-eyed.
"And when Speedy was sick, he'd blow off girls, parties, and just sit by her bedside, bring her food, tuck her in."
Oliver rolls his eyes. "And you were usually right by my side, fretting even worse."
"Lies, slander – you can't believe a word he says, Thea," Tommy defends himself quickly but playfully – and they're all laughing and eating. It's perfect.
"Besides, I still don't get why she had me play horse on occasion. We have actual real horses, but no, Ollie has to play-pretend and carry her around and go in whatever direction she pleases when she yanks on his hair." Oliver's rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, but it only furthers the laughter.
"Well, if we're telling stories about me," Thea chimes in with a wide grin, "then I should really share why you didn't make a good knight to defend me from monsters."
"Oy, I would be an excellent knight," Oliver objects but he already knows the story that is coming – the same one she shared with William years ago (years hence?).
"Uh-huh. Well, Ollie, have you told Felicity about your nightlight?"
"Your nightlight?" Tommy echoes, eyebrows high up on his forehead and Oliver grumbles slightly.
"It was not a nightlight," he defends again, yet it is no more believable now than it was then. "I just couldn't sleep when it was pitch-black."
"Uh-huh. And, just remind me, how old were you when you last had this nightlight?" Thea asks, mock-innocently.
"Sixteen," Oliver huffs, rolling his eyes. Felicity is giggling, one hand patting his forearm gently in silent support, so he doesn't intend to put a stop to it. She's finally relaxing and getting to know his family – that's all he can ask for. "And remember, Thea, if we're rolling out embarrassing stories – I know more than you."
"Really? Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?" She drawls out before slinging her arm around Felicity's shoulders and pulling her closer. "Just, FYI, you're going to be my new best friend and I'm going to tell you all the best stories of my brother."
"Or we could start with the one when you first went to kindergarten and convinced all the other kids in class you were a princess and that they had to cater to your every whim," Oliver interjects and surprises a laugh out of Thea, who looks delighted.
"Really?" She asks, "I don't remember that story."
Oliver hums. "Mom was over in the Australian subsidiary and Dad was in Japan, I think. You had a bodyguard assigned to you who was to collect you every day after it let out – of course, he always called you 'Ms. Queen' which certainly helped reinforce to all the kids that you really were a princess. To be perfectly fair to you, I'm not sure you understood at that age that it was just our last name and that it didn't mean you were going to be a princess."
Felicity looks contemplative, before throwing in, "even better, she lived in a real-life castle with staff catering to her every whim and a stable with actual horses. The last name Queen is just icing on the top, really."
"That is… a very good point," Thea says, sounding surprised as she looks at their table and the walls with new eyes.
"Why didn't I hear about this?" His mother jumps in.
"Her bodyguard got more and more flustered with all the pre-school children swarming him and Thea at the end of school, and the teacher's insistence that he needs to rectify it, that he got me out of school early one day and asked me to deal with it." Oliver shrugs semi-sheepishly. "I thought it was hilarious. Besides, I always kind of assumed you were told – either by the bodyguard's report or by the school. Sorry, kindergarten. But it was adorable – there was this group of twenty tiny-sized children hanging onto my every word like it was gospel. Mainly, probably, because as Thea's brother, I must be a prince. But getting Thea to stop telling everyone she was a princess took a bit longer."
"I never realised," Moira admits, looking at her daughter, "I thought you were just playing pretend when you introduced me as Queen and yourself as princess Queen."
"Well," Thea says, looking amused, "that was less embarrassing and more awesome. I bet you I can do better," she challenges.
"I don't think you can top the one where he pissed on the cop," Tommy offers with a wide grin and a shake of his head.
Why did he ever think this was a good idea, again?
"Oh, if it's about the D in Algebra, I already know about that. And the cop car. And the dozens of sex videos. And embarrassing photographs. And arrests. And the helicopter. The close call in Vegas."
The table falls silent and even Oliver is staring at her. She shrugs semi-nonchalantly under their increased scrutiny.
"What? If it's on the internet, I can find it. And I had a half hour this morning before breakfast." When Oliver looks amused, but the others still look baffled, Felicity rolls her eyes. "You know I went to MIT, right? It's, like, Harvard for computer geeks, with an acceptance rate of 6.7%, so if I can get in there, I can get in... pretty much anywhere."
"That… is genuinely frightening." Tommy concedes with a surprised blink. "What did you say you did again?"
"I didn't," she says with a sharp look at the man, but then continues without furthering the point. "I graduated in 2009 with a Masters in Computer Science and Cyber Security from MIT. And I work at Queen Consolidated in the IT department."
"So, no plans to take over the world, then?" Tommy asks hesitantly, still looking a bit taken aback at the news just how skilled Felicity is.
She grins brightly. "Only every night."
At both his and Tommy's confused looks, she rolls her eyes.
"Come on, you must know this – Pinky and the Brain? Same thing we do every night! Take over the world! No? And Oliver, this came out pre-Island, so no excuses for this glaring lack of knowledge of pop culture."
With a chuckle, he lifts his hand in the air, surrendering easily. "Never been good with that. Speedy's the one who keeps up with trends and fashion and-" he lifts his shoulders helplessly, "things."
Felicity and Thea laugh. "Things. Brilliant."
"But to answer your question, Tommy, no. I currently have no plans whatsoever to empty your bank accounts, ruin your credit rating and put you on the no-fly list." She gives him a faux-bright smile. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Oh my god, Ollie! You didn't tell me she was so badass! Felicity, I changed my mind. You've just been upgraded from bestie to new sister." Before the blonde has time to turn and face Thea, his sister throws him a wink and he barely manages a glare before Felicity's attention is on them.
"And I think I'm going to be very, very careful about what I say around you from now on," Tommy capitulates easily, eyebrows still raised in surprise, but he can see the amused grin on his lips.
"That is very good advice around women in general," Felicity suggests and Oliver chuckles at her constant push-back. He loves to see how she's finding her footing with his family and friends.
"Well then, Ms. Smoak, since we are on the topic of getting to know you," his mother chimes in for the first time, "where are you from and what brought you here?"
And the nervousness is back. He can see Felicity's back and shoulders tense, can feel her fingers clench around his forearm and the way she stops snacking on food.
"Certainly, Mrs. Queen." A pause. "Sorry, Mrs. Steele?" Another short pause wherein his mother is too surprised by the sudden change in demeanour and topic to speak up, leaving Felicity to continue her babble, getting progressively more flustered. "Mrs Queen-Steele? You seem like a woman who'd hyphenate. Not that that means anything. Or that you have to or are. Just- right. You asked me a question," she reels herself in, expelling a heavy breath. "Vegas – I'm from Vegas. And I liked where you were going with some of your projects in Applied Sciences more than I liked the paycheque of working for Google. Or Microsoft."
Even Tommy's whispered, "Vegas, baby!" doesn't draw any of their attention away from his mother – which is why it is such a surprise when he sees her visibly warm up, a genuine, honest smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Not a wide one, but still – the progress in just a few words, with his mother no less, is remarkable.
"Call me Moira, dear," the woman offers and although Oliver doesn't visibly react, clamping down on his own reactions as to not unnerve his future-wife, he sees Thea's double-take in the corner of his eyes and Tommy's wide-eyed look at him, telling him wordlessly, 'are you seeing this, too?'
Felicity takes the olive branch for what it is and lights up. He can't help but squeeze her thigh, just above her knee, hoping she can tell just how amazed and impressed he is with her ability to charm people around her.
"Moira," Felicity tries experimentally, looking surprised. "I'll try." At his mother's curious look, Felicity backtracks. "I mean, I will. It's just – you're so impressive and important and imposing – and I didn't mean to alliterate, that just sort of… happened – but you are." Oliver's amused to note his mother looks even more flattered to be called 'impressive' and 'imposing' and appears to quickly soften up under Felicity's gushing.
"Not to mention, you're my boss' boss' boss. Or something like that. And I'm not sure I can look you in the eye and call you by your first name. But you asked me to, and it would be super-rude not to. So I'll try. And thank you, Moira, for the clothes this morning. I really didn't want to wear that 'hi, I'm a kidnappee? Abductee?' outfit again. Anyway, thank you. That was really nice. I don't know what to do with all these clothes, though, but they're really nice and just-" she breathes out sharply, controlled, and then tries again, calmer now after her ramble. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
"You are very welcome, dear. Besides, that just means we'll have to spend time together and get to know each other better until you feel comfortable calling me by my first name while looking me in the eyes" Moira offers, a full-on smile on her lips as she reaches forward, across the table, to pat her on the hand. "Anytime you need anything, don't hesitate to talk to me."
Oliver is unsure what to make of his mother. Has always been unsure. She's done so many things, so many terrible things. Not just to their family, to the Glades, to hundreds of people. Has hidden and stopped his half-sister Emiko from getting money she desperately needs despite his father's last wishes. Has hidden her from them. Hidden William from him. Has had her hands in a hundred different pies.
But then she does things like this. Makes time for her family instead of societal obligations. Warming up to Felicity. Inviting his future-wife to talk to her – which is not something his mother does, not like this. But Oliver is still no closer to knowing what it means. What his mother means to him. How he's meant to read her, understand her. He's found out about so many secrets she's kept, even years and years after her death, he just doesn't know where he stands with her.
He's yanked out of his thoughts when he notices a familiar hand movement from Tommy's side. His best friend has leant back in his seat so he can mime the same thing he often does when they notice their parents luring in newer-to-the-business partners before they make them sign iron-clad legal contracts. It's meant to symbolise a shark going in for the kill, according to Tommy. Having experienced his own shark bite, Oliver is aware it's really nothing like that, but it's still amusing enough to distract him – and worry him, because if that's what his best friend is reading from his mother's interactions with Felicity, it's a lot less genuine than he believes it to be. And he knows very well just how tight his blinders can be when it comes to family.
"You do know, I can see you Tommy," his mother says, her voice deadpan and his best friend freezes, wide-eyed.
Felicity shrugs. "Women are known to have better peripheral vision than men. You should keep that in mind, you know, for those hypothetical women you don't want to say the wrong thing in front of."
She gives him a wide smile which is half-threatening, half-amusing.
"Very good, dear," Moira praises with a nod to Felicity who smiles back easily.
What is happening? Thea's giving him and Tommy her own version of a scary grin and Oliver's still not sure what he's meant to read from it – from them.
"Oh, by the way, Oliver. Your new gym equipment arrived this morning. I had them set it up in the ground floor gym, given the weight." Oliver nods – it's the gym he prefers, anyway. The others are far smaller and mostly adjoined to their respective offices.
"I have also called on our tailor, Giuseppe, to come in this afternoon to take your measurements so we can make sure you have outfits which actually fit you," she states with a clearly disapproving eye on his too-tight shirt.
"Yeah," Thea pipes up with a side-eye on him. "You really bulked up on that island. It's kind of comically tight now."
He hopes Thea doesn't hear Felicity whisper under her breath about how she certainly doesn't mind how tight his outfit is, but, judging by her wicked grin, he knows that's a false hope. Still, he squeezes Felicity's hand on the arm rest lightly, just to let her know he heard and he didn't mind.
"You do know that his name is not actually Giuseppe, right?" he asks Moira, deliberately ignoring both Thea's and Felicity's comments otherwise.
"Giuseppe has been our tailor for nearly two decades; of course, I know his name."
Oliver sighs. "No, mom, you really don't. Marcel is French, not Italian, but all the rich in Starling wanted an Italian tailor. So, he called his shop Giuseppe and everyone promptly assumed that's his name. And he does deliver excellent Italian fashion and has ties to the country – but still, his name is not, nor has it ever been, Giuseppe. But thank you for arranging for him to come by. It would be nice to have clothes which fit better."
"Well, why wouldn't he just say that? He's proved his service and the quality of his wares a long time ago."
"Probably because most of his clientele doesn't react well to being corrected on anything. Especially not from someone they view as beneath them," Felicity chimes in, before looking surprised at what she just said – and indirectly accused them of.
"Oh, I can see why you like her," Tommy says easily, shaking his head, looking eminently amused. "You're very forthright, Ms Smoak. Honesty is a rare commodity among the rich. Especially when it's not something they'd like to hear."
"I'm… sorry?" she half-states, half-asks. "Or possibly thank you?"
Tommy laughs. "You're very welcome," he says easily.
"It's just Felicity, please. I mean- obviously my full name is Felicity Smoak, but you can just call me by my first name. Which is Felicity. I swear, sometimes I don't know why I open my mouth."
"Well, Felicity," Tommy draws out her name flirtatiously and Oliver grimaces – he forgot that they never really got the chance to meet last time around. "It is definitely a pleasure to meet you."
His favourite blonde winces but Tommy, not easily affronted, just laughs.
"What? Too much?" When she nods, he stops the flirtatious tone and lean immediately. "Noted. I'll tone it down for you next time," he promises, winking at her and Felicity shrugs, laughing.
"Who doesn't want a pretty billionaire playboy flirting with them?" She asks wryly and Tommy laughs again.
"Well, since Thea's given up her position as your best friend, you can be my second-best friend. This brooding lump over there unfortunately still holds first place."
"Really feeling the love here, Tommy," Oliver objects with an eyeroll.
"What did you get that our gym didn't already have and that was more important than clothes?" Thea asks as if the very thought is foreign, interjecting before Tommy can continue their banter.
"Just a few things, including a salmon ladder," Oliver says with a quick side-eye at Felicity. She used to love watching him on that thing – and he may or may not have used that opportunity to show off. Once. Or half a dozen times. A day.
"Salmon ladder?" Tommy asks quizzically.
"Salmon as in beat-themselves-bloody-and-raw-for-breeding-season-by-swimming-upriver salmon ladder?" Felicity interjects, wide-eyed, "that does not sound like good exercise equipment. Or healthy."
Oliver chuckles lightly. "Kind of like that. It's mostly an exercise for core muscles by launching yourself upward onto the next rung. Promise – no beating yourself in any way, bloody, raw or otherwise."
"Huh, that sounds cool – I'm great at core exercises," Thea brags, "can I try?"
Oliver blinks in surprise, before shrugging good-naturedly.
"If you want to, of course. Just make sure I'm there so I can spot you."
"Can we try now?" Thea adds, before they can continue onto another topic.
"Now?" Oliver repeats, surprised, but everyone does appear to have finished eating so he concedes with a nod. "Alright. I'll tell Norris to let everyone know they can help themselves to the leftovers."
As he stands, he's amused to watch Felicity sneak another muffin quickly.
"Norris?" She asks, standing up to follow him automatically, peeling off a bit of the muffin to put in her mouth. "Like Chuck Norris? All grr?"
Oliver snorts.
"Yes and no. Raisa is our head of household, but while she's away, the head of security is in charge. Which is Norris, in this case. But he's not actually a Texas Ranger, or Chuck Norris. But he is a bodyguard and protects the family. Very grrr" Oliver mimics with an amused smile in her direction. "So, kind of."
Spoiler alert: Next chapter has the salmon ladder and a discussion of Felicity's sexual desirability considering Oliver's previous partners and Laurel's 'gorgeousness'. And Diggle! Yay. Watching awkwardly as everything happens, as usual. Poor guy.
Anything you'd like to see in the next few chapters specifically? Any confrontations? So much demand for Tommy-Felicity bonding. I'm trying, and I hope I've delivered at least the beginnings of something. Tommy seemed like a guy who respected women who were more fierce, more demanding. I hope I've also highlighted Oliver's struggle with his mother and Felicity's attempts to get along. What did you think of the childhood moments I've made up as well? I hope you liked it.
Please review and let me know what you think :)