Chipped Blocks
An Olicity Flash Fic Story

Flash Fic Prompt #31: Nowhere to Hide

Chapter Three

"I have a daughter!" Shaking her head... like she had water in her ears, and that was the only reason why, to his invitation to have dinner, Felicity had responded with such a forceful announcement of her mommy status... not that Mia had called her mommy, well, ever. Not the point. The point was that... oh, god, Felicity wasn't sure she had a point. "I just... that didn't sound like a purely professional dinner, and I'm not just this carefree, go-lucky, single woman that you can act out your suppressed authority fantasies with. I have a child. A daughter. A teenage daughter. Who is... Well, she's awful. I love her, she's mine, and I wouldn't trade her for anyone else in the world, but Mia is a hellion. Plus, you're Connor's dad. You're Mr. Hawke. And, after everything Connor has told me about you, I was prepared to hate you. But then you walk in here. And your white button up is wet, and it's sticking to your insanely muscular chest. And you're not wearing a jacket. Or a tie. Why aren't you wearing a jacket? Or a tie?"

Without waiting for him to respond, Felicity took a deep breath and plunged on. She really wished she could relocate her silent schtick from a few moments before. Yeah. She really missed that. "And you're late. You're so unbelievably late. And you startled me into threatening to beat you with a heater. But you're here. You're here, and you cared enough to look up your son's teachers, and nothing about any of this – well, maybe the late part, and definitely the attractive part, because, objectively speaking, Connor is a good looking kid – is jiving with the image I had of you inside of my mind."

Worst. Ramble. Ever.

Curling her blunt nails into the fleshy part of her palms, Felicity centered herself. "So, no, Mr. Hawke," she finally found her way around to her point. "I shouldn't have dinner with you."

Wait. What? She wasn't supposed to say shouldn't... which invited persuasion; she was supposed to emphatically turn him down. Say that she couldn't, that she wouldn't, go out to a late dinner with him. Huffing at herself in frustration, Felicity crossed her arms over her chest petulantly and frowned.

Crap on a shingle.

A bark of laughter emanating from Mr. Hawke alerted Felicity to the fact that her curse wasn't just internal, but it was too late to be embarrassed about her slip, because she was already mortified by her lack of filter... if that was even the right explanation at this point. A lack of filter seemed too mild of a way to describe her faux pas that evening.

So many faux pas.

"First, my name isn't Mr. Hawke."

While Felicity would like to say that it was the obviously complicated family dynamics which had her befuddled, the truth of the matter was that, while she was chastising herself, Connor's father had closed the distance between them, and he was standing far too close for his own well-being. And her peace of mind. He had popped her bubble, and she totally wasn't hating his nearness.

And that sounded super dirty.

Stupid contagious teenagers.

"But you said that you were Connor's dad – Connor Hawke's..."

"Connor has his mother's last name," he clarified, graciously interrupting her before she could put all the feet in the world into her mouth. It was big enough. They'd surely fit. "Seeing as how my son has apparently confided in you, I'm sure you already know that he just recently became a part of my life." A bitter, self-loathing smirk twisted his features as he admitted, "he doesn't want to change his name."

While it wasn't said, Felicity could read between the lines. Connor proclaimed that his father didn't want anything to do with him – yet, here his father was nonetheless, but that disinterest was actually the other way around. It wasn't so much that Connor didn't want to change his name; he didn't want to take his father's.

"So, you're Oliver... Connor calls you by your first name, so I'm not a creepy stalker...," she prompted him to fill in the missing moniker.

"Queen." And Felicity could feel her eyes go comically, horrifically wide despite her best attempt to maintain a neutral expression. "I'm Oliver Queen."

To further flummox her, he held a hand out in invitation for her to shake. Felicity slipped her hand into his, surprised by how... not smooth his grip was. He had callouses – ones not born from clutching his fancy-pants CEO pens like a caveman – and a strength that was deliciously attractive.

No, not delicious. She was just hungry, and he had mentioned food. And not attractive, because, well... no, that one was a lost cause, because she had already admitted – to the both of them – that he was sex on a stick... maybe not in so many words but close enough.

"Right, Mr. Queen," she rushed to fill the silence while still shaking his hand. It was awkward, and inappropriate, but she just didn't want to let go. "Of course." Because duh. She should have known. While Connor would have been respected as the new rich kid, it took something special to impress the millionaire brats that were his peers into practically showing him deference. Which they did. It took billions and being related to the most infamous family in Starling City. Only the Queens fit that bill.

"Please, it's Oliver." Stunning Felicity back into a quiet she could admit was unfamiliar but certainly welcome, he then smiled at her – this big, blinding, bulldozing smile. "If we're going to have dinner together, then we should at least be on a first name basis, don't you think?" She couldn't respond. She couldn't answer him. Felicity wasn't even sure if she was capable of breathing in that moment. And then Oliver's confidence was replaced with a vulnerability which was unjustly even more irresistible. Damn him. "You are hungry, right? You haven't already had dinner, have you? I just assumed, because it would have been such a busy night for you, that you wouldn't have had time to eat, but perhaps I was..."

"Ugh, I'm starving," Felicity moaned. She hadn't intended to admit that, but the words had just slipped out... probably because she was so hungry that her mouth had involuntarily started salivating at the first hint of food. And then because they had served her so well before – NOT!, even more words started pouring forth. "I haven't eaten since lunch. Well, I mean, I popped a few tastes of the rainbow between parents earlier, but that doesn't even count as a pick me up unless a cup of coffee was involved. Which it wasn't. Because it's not like the school ever schedules in bathroom breaks for the teachers, and it doesn't matter how long you sit there without a parent to talk to; as soon as you leave the room, someone shows up, and then you look like the flighty, blonde technology teacher that's as an elective of a meeting as her class. And, yeah, apparently, I'm not ready to let that go yet. So, right." And then she nodded once in emphasis, because, well, why not? It helped punctuate that she was done talking. For now. And she really was a stickler for proper punctuation.

Of all the things she said, Oliver elected to question, "tastes of the rainbow?"

"Skittles." He tilted his head to the side in obvious ignorance. Rich people were so weird. "The candy." His eyes narrowed in focus but not comprehension. "Little, round bursts of chemicalized – I'm not sure that's a real word, but go with me here – fruit flavor." He grinned, but it wasn't one of shared interest in her choice of snack food, though he certainly still looked interested in her. Felicity shook her head. She meant in what she was saying. "I happened to have popped some green – lime – ones earlier, because they're my favorite. Well, I like them all. In fact, I like all colors. Red, purple, yellow, orange. They're staples in my wardrobe. But I don't wear a lot of green. Instead, I like to put green things in my mouth. Pickles. Mint Chip Ice Cream. Green Skittles." Her list only trailed off when she noticed that Connor's dad was practically choking.

Running back over the things she had said, Felicity was at a loss as to what had set him off. Sure, it wasn't very professional – or even very refined – to talk about putting things in one's mouth, but because she had only been talking about green things... and neither the Grinch nor the Hulk were real, it wasn't that bad. That inappropriate. Besides, she had said far more leading things already towards Oliver, and he hadn't reacted at all. So, why now, why this babble, Felicity had no idea.

Deciding that she didn't want to know and giving them both an out, she redirected their conversation back to the topic at hand. "So, dinner? Against my better judgment... and perhaps even a clause in my contract – I should probably look into that later... Anyway, yes. We should do that." At least if she was eating, she'd be less likely to make a fool of herself. Probably. "You name the place. And I'll meet you there. Because this isn't a date. You're just a parent, and I'm your child's teacher. And it's parent-teacher night, but it's late, and we're both hungry, so we'll talk about parenting, and teaching, and children while we satiate our needs." Oh, dear lord. Cringing in mortification, Felicity corrected... or, at least, she attempted to correct. "Our purely biological needs." And then she closed her eyes so she couldn't see his sympathetic mortification on her behalf. "I meant our basic needs for survival, but I'm sure you figured this out by now. And just know that, if I don't show up at the restaurant, it's not because I don't care – about your son. As his teacher. In a completely appropriate and professional manner. It's because I found an unlocked garage, pulled my car inside, and left it running. It's not you; it's me."

"How does Big Belly Burger sound?"

And then to her ever-loving shame, Felicity groaned for the second time that night in front of Oliver Frickin' Queen. "I love Three-B's."

Without commenting, Oliver picked up her portable heater... which she had threatened him with earlier. She watched as he put it back in her classroom, grabbed her things – her purse, and bag, and coat, and umbrella, turned out the light, and then shut the door behind him. It wasn't until he was beside her once more in the dark, empty, still hallway that he finally offered a response. She jumped when she realized his mouth was close to her ear, and he whispered, "I do, too, Felicity."

She was in so much trouble.