Chipped Blocks
An Olicity Flash Fic Story

Flash Fic Prompt #32: Rules of Engagement

Chapter Four

Oliver was lonely.

If someone would have told his twenty-one year old self that, eighteen years later, he'd be sitting inside of a fast food joint, speeding towards forty, and essentially waiting to meet someone who didn't even qualify as a blind date, he would have found that more improbable than getting shipwrecked on an island for five years. What's more, that he'd be parent-less before middle age; that he'd never marry (let alone get divorced a few times over); that his life would revolve around running the family company he had never had any interest in and trying to selflessly, anonymously protect and serve, save, his city; that Tommy, and Laurel, and Sara would all be dead? No, this was certainly not where pre-Island Ollie had seen his life going.

Up until a few months ago – up until Oliver had found out that he was a father to a seventeen year old son, he had never noticed how quiet, how boring his existence was. He worked with and employed thousands of people, and his sister ran and operated a nightclub, so his day to day life was filled with noise. At night, he went out in a mask and hood and shot arrows into pimps and drug dealers, into profiteers and rapists, so his life was anything but staid.

But his employees didn't know him. Hell, Oliver didn't know them. Sure, he cared about their wellbeing, and a part of why he was actually putting on a suit and going into an office every day was to make sure that those faceless, nameless people had jobs to support themselves and their families, but Oliver could walk by his accountants and his sales managers on the street and not recognize them. He hated dancing, he rarely drank, and the pointless revelry that Verdant thrived off of did nothing but remind Oliver of loved ones lost and the son who wanted nothing to do with him. As for his work as the Green Arrow, he still felt it was necessary, but it became harder and harder to go out there every day, risking his life, not knowing if there was anyone who would notice if, one night, he didn't come back.

Taking hold of the black coffee he had ordered while he waited for his dinner companion to join him, Oliver took a sip of the steaming liquid. Despite having ordered it more than ten minutes before, it still scalded his mouth, but he didn't put it down. He held it in his hands, and he allowed the ceramic to warm him from the outside in, and he chastised himself for his self-pitying thoughts. The truth of the matter was that Oliver was alone because that's how he wanted it. Being alone was easier, cleaner. His life worked better with fewer complications and personal commitments. After all, he couldn't even manage to make it to parent-teacher night. How could he possibly be anything more than just a CEO and a vigilante?

Despite this, he had people in his life. There was Thea. Oliver loved his sister, and he knew that she loved him, but their relationship had never recovered from his death and all the secrets returning from the dead had forced him to keep. All the secrets that keeping the more human parts of his personality dead and buried had made him want to keep. Plus, despite all her baggage and unlike him, Thea still managed to adapt and become a fully functioning member of society. She lived, she loved, she laughed. Oliver would always be Thea's brother, but he wasn't her world. And he wouldn't want to be. Thea had her career, and she was married. Thea had a wide circle of friends and friendly acquaintances. She was fulfilled on every level.

Oliver had friends, too... well, as much as he allowed anyone to be his friend. There was Digg who had always been more partner than friend. While he trusted the other man, friendship would imply that they talked about more than just Oliver's mission. Hell, it would imply that, at some point, his mission would have become theirs, but John Diggle had firmly kept his home life separate from his responsibilities as Oliver's bodyguard by day and backup at night.

Then, there was Roy Harper – Thea's husband. At first, their relationship had been strained, because Oliver had not been willing to accept anyone as being good enough for his little sister, especially not some punk from the wrong side of the tracks, but Roy's devotion to Thea eventually wore down Oliver's resolve to dislike the man his sister chose to make her life with, and, eventually, the two of them bonded over their mutual love for Thea. However, their interaction remained limited to small talk over family dinners and commiserating over the things Speedy somehow convinced them to do for her.

As for sex, Oliver wasn't a monk, but he had certainly slowed down from his former playboy days. Sex was still a great way to relieve stress and tension, to find some kind of release for all the emotions Oliver kept bottled up, but it was also, quite frankly, a hassle as well. He had no patience for dating, no patience for the questions that fell from everyone's lips when they first saw the scars that marred a good quarter of his flesh. Furthermore, sex was no longer the validation it had once been for him. Oliver found his self-worth in other ways now, and it just wasn't the same anyway – not without Tommy by his side, egging him on and challenging him. So, while he was attracted to Felicity – no, Ms. Smoak; Oliver needed to keep this cordial yet still professional – and while he was lonely, their dinner could be nothing more than a parent and a teacher discussing their child and student, respectively, over food.

That was... if she ever showed up.

Yes, they had left separately, and, yes, Oliver wasn't exactly known for sticking to the speed limit, but it didn't even take fifteen minutes to get from Starling Prep to Big Belly Burger, let alone allow for that much discrepancy between their arrival times. As the minutes ticked by, and he slowly drained his coffee cup, Oliver came to realize that, despite her agreement to have dinner with him, Ms. Smoak was standing him up – no phone call (because they hadn't exchanged numbers), no word.

Setting his mug down and reaching for his wallet – Oliver was hungry, but he'd go eat something alone at home, not in the middle of a nearly deserted fast food restaurant, he admitted to himself that Felicity Smoak not showing was a good thing.

It was for the best.

"I am an extremely intelligent, strong, successful woman. I am a confident, competent woman. I am a single parent who... well, okay, maybe my relationship status isn't important here. But, you know what? No, it is important. Because, for the past seventeen years, I have been at least attempting to raise my daughter on my own, and that is perhaps my greatest accomplishment yet. Furthermore, I am an excellent teacher." Finally taking a breath, the rigid, embarrassed woman standing before Oliver's booth retroactively explained her little speech. "While I realize that I may not have put my best foot forward... if you don't count shoving it into my own mouth, which I don't, I need you to realize that the woman you met earlier tonight, she's not me. I mean, she is," Felicity allowed, shrugging her shoulders and wincing slightly. "She's, like, the worst version of me, but you startled me, and you make me nervous, and I just... I wasn't expecting..."

With compassion... and a warm, charmed smile to wordlessly express it, Oliver interrupted her, "I never doubted that. You." With the reassurance, Ms. Smoak slowly took her seat across from him, but she remained silent, apparently wanting him to clarify further. "I don't know my son – Connor – well... at least, not in the traditional sense. I don't know how old he was when he lost his first tooth, and I have no idea what his favorite movie is. But I know him in that I like him. I think he's... amazing, and I respect him. So, the fact that he likes you and that he respects you..." She went to protest, but Oliver kept talking over her, which he had a feeling was no small feat. "He didn't have to say anything. I watched you. I saw your reaction when I introduced myself, and it's obvious that you know my son well, that he confides in you. Trust me when I tell you how rare that is and that Connor's approval of you was all I needed to know that you are a remarkable woman, Felicity."

So much for keeping it professional.

In light of her insecurities and her willingness to be so vulnerable with him, Oliver's determination to stop... whatever it was that was happening between them before it could really and truly get started disappeared. He couldn't see her upset without trying to comfort her, and, despite his best intentions, he just couldn't bring himself to not call her Felicity. For a man so scared – and, yes, Oliver could admit there were things in life that scared the shit out of him – of familiarity, of his own deeper emotions, he also found that he liked the intimacy of calling Felicity by her first name too much to stop.

"See," Felicity's emphatic voice brought him back into the moment. "This is why you make me nervous. Well, this and...," she waved her right hand in a circular manner towards him, "... all that."

Before he could respond – not that Oliver knew what he was going to say, not that he was even sure he'd be able to form a response, their waitress came up to the table, and they ordered. It seemed to be a silent agreement between them, as they waited for their food to arrive, that they not talk, that they both take a few minutes to compose themselves. Already, it had been such a roller-coaster of a night, and Oliver had a suspicion that the thrilling yet terrifying ride was only just beginning.

It was only once Felicity had bit into her Big Belly Buster, hold the bacon – Jewish here – that he finally decided which route he wanted to take with their conversation. "So, how long did you sit in your car practicing that speech you greeted me with when you first arrived?"

Felicity colored but she didn't deny his assumption. "Too long for as many tangents that I still managed to squeeze in there."

Oliver slipped an entire fry into his mouth before grinning. "I like your tangents. Everything in my life is so... predictable, controlled. I'm so predictable and controlled. Yet, tonight – with you, for the first time in... years, I did something spontaneous."

It was highly dangerous, and perhaps that's why it felt so good. Oliver had long since become an adrenaline junkie. While his old means of feeling that rush had faded over the years, this – Felicity – was a new high. An addictive one. Before he knew it, their food was gone, their trays cleared away, and their waitress was giving them the side-eye, because they were the only ones there, keeping her from closing up. However, they had yet to talk about Connor – not because, in Felicity, Oliver had lost interest in his son or because she had made him forget about his kid but because, in Felicity, Oliver had found an interest in and remembered himself again.

Nervous – looking down, Oliver found that he was rubbing his left thumb over his calloused fore and middle fingers of that same hand – and impulsive – he held his breath while he waited for Felicity to answer, he entreated, "have breakfast with me tomorrow."

Teeth in bottom lip, blue eyes alight with warmth and a smile, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure, Felicity turned him down. "I can't. Between work and the off chance that my daughter actually deigns to grace me with her presence and catches a ride with me..." He understood her reasons, but that didn't stop Oliver from feeling disappointed. "But what about lunch?"

It would make his schedule a nightmare. Oliver had back to back to back meetings all day long, and traffic, even in the afternoon, was never light in downtown Starling where the Queen Consolidated building was located. Despite this, he found himself agreeing anyway. "It's a date."

Standing up, he waited for Felicity to join him on her feet, his right hand automatically finding the small of her back as he walked her out of the restaurant and to her car. In the chilly, damp air, they finalized their plans for the next day. Even after they agreed upon Oliver picking up something for them to eat on his way to the school, they both lingered. They talked about inconsequential things that, in their insignificance, were important. Even after he wished a yawning Felicity a good night and watched her drive away, Oliver hesitated to leave himself. He eventually climbed into his car, though. It wasn't until he was halfway home to the Queen Mansion that he now shared with his son that he realized something.

While, physically, he was alone once more, Oliver no longer felt lonely.