A/N: Short little bit of Laurel and Oliver's interaction. This is BEFORE Laurel knows about Felicity's cancer so don't hate her too much, mmkay?

This takes place between chapters 25 & 26 of For Blue Skies

"Ollie!"

Oliver didn't have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to, so he chose not to, opting instead to continue giving his order. "Could I get maybe...a quart?"

"Oliver," Laurel stepped into his peripheral vision. "I've been trying to call you for the past like, two weeks."

"I've been busy." He still didn't deign to look at her. "Let's make it two quarts. And another quart of the chicken spaetzle. That's not like, tomato based, right? Just chicken broth?"

He hadn't expected to run into Laurel Lance at the small soup and sandwich place near QC, but he did know that her offices were around the corner. He was on a mission to find soft, easy-to-eat food for Felicity, especially since she had exhausted just about all of the options in the hospital cafeteria that met that criteria. What little research he had done online suggested a few hearty soups, so long as they weren't too acidic, like tomato ones, and he had finally tracked down a place in Starling City that made a delicious broccoli cheddar one. It wasn't acidic and was high enough in calories that he thought even if Felicity didn't eat a lot of it, it was still doing it's job.

"I've called you a million times."

He finally looked down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Generally, when someone doesn't return your calls, it means that they don't want to talk to you."

"Oo...kay. I guess. But I just - I saw you on TV. I wanted to see how Felicity was doing."

He felt his eyebrows raise, but focused on the cashier in front of him.

"Since when do you care about Felicity?" He unfolded a few bills and gave them to the waiting salesperson.

"Since...well, she's important to you. And Sara. And my dad, apparently," she muttered under her breath, but he still heard every word. "So I thought I would just...ask."

"Thanks, man," he nodded his gratitude and took the plastic bag being handed to him. "I have to go, Laurel."

"Wait!" She followed him out of the shop and onto the street, reminiscent of her last confrontation regarding Felicity.

"Why? You don't like Felicity, Laurel. You don't care how she is and you certainly don't care that she is important to me, so why should I wait?" He was getting frustrated now.

"It's not that I don't like her, it's just...I just think that what she's doing to you and my dad is wrong! I mean, did she even tell you that I caught the two of them together?"

"'Caught' them? Do you -" He took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He wasn't about to blurt out Felicity's secret because of his inability to deal with Laurel Lance. "They weren't doing anything wrong, Laurel. Yes, she told me she saw you, and she told me what you said. Which brings me back to the fact that I know you don't care about how she's doing, so why are you here?"

She sighed. "My dad won't return my calls."

"I am not playing mediator between you and your father. If he doesn't want to talk to you, that's his choice."

"Fine, then let me talk to Felicity."

"Let you talk to Felicity?" He could hardly believe what he was hearing. It wasn't the worst idea he had ever heard, but it was up there. "Why on earth would I let you do that? She's still in the hospital, Laurel. She's recovering. And just like me and apparently your father, I am sure she doesn't want to talk to you."

"If I could just explain things, or have her just tell me what is going on, then maybe I could understand! Maybe I could make things right with my dad!"

"Your dad. Who you think is sleeping with Felicity."

He knew that he had laughed when she had first told him what Laurel had accused her and Detective Lance of doing, but being confronted with it, face to face, it was a lot less humorous. It rankled him on numerous levels, from witnessing the father-daughter relationship they shared to the fact that Felicity was Oliver's. She wasn't sleeping with anyone, but if she was, it would be him.

"I don't know what to think. That's why I need to talk to her."

"What you need to do is go home, or go back to work, or go wherever. I need to go to the hospital."

"Take me with you!"

"No, Laurel! You think you know this situation, but you have no idea what you're doing. What you're interfering with."

"Like hell!" She whipped her hair out of her face as the wind blew around them maddeningly. "I know that something is going on and I know that none of you will tell me what it is!"

He put his hands on her shoulders, stilling her wild hand movements.

"For the first time in this entire conversation, you are right. There is something going on and we won't tell you what it is. So you need to let it go, do you hear me? I'm not going to have this conversation with you again."

His voice had gotten dangerously close to Arrow-territory, but he was desperate to make her see the direness of the situation. The last thing Felicity needed as she recuperated from her third round of chemotherapy was Laurel Lance sticking her nose into business that wasn't her's. Despite the tone, he knew there was a good chance this wasn't the last time he was going to have to deal with her. He knew Laurel, and he knew that she rarely gave things up without a fight, especially secrets that involved her family and those closest to her.

"Ollie."

Her voice was pleading and sincere and in another life, Oliver knew that it would have broken him right then and there, and he would be telling her everything she needed to know. But he wasn't that person anymore.

"Her soup's getting cold."

And with that, he walked away, leaving Laurel Lance on the sidewalk in front of a cafe, a position that was becoming eerily familiar to her.