Having just failed to get their table ready – Tommy feels this date is going south faster and faster. He'd had enough of a struggle convincing Laurel to go on a date with him in the first place rather than just a roll in the hay, convincing her he wants more – that she should give him a chance to have more together.

Then he has no money and Laurel tells him it doesn't matter – but moments like these, how can she not see? Tommy's never had to survive with only what he has on him, at least not without his best friend at his side bailing him out when he's been robbed blind by a date (again). Now?

Everything's changed.

Everything's different.

Years spent feeling guilty and ashamed yet still chasing after Laurel, hoping he'd get more of a chance with her but so fucking guilty about her having been his best friend's girlfriend before his untimely death.

Now? Ollie's back. And, god, he couldn't be happier. He'd cried when he heard the news that his best friend had been found alive and was coming home.

But things with Laurel – they're more complicated than ever. Laurel is… he's not sure. She says there's nothing. Ollie says there's nothing. But he can't get it out of his head – that in some way, somehow, it will always be them. Ollie and Laurel. Forever.

But he has to try – because what he feels for Laurel, for this gorgeous, clever, brilliant woman? He's never felt anything like that before. And he's never had anyone support him like this.

So, he has to try.

Except it's not going well. Really, really not going well. Laurel's hungry, getting progressively icier and crankier the longer they are forced to wait (no, he doesn't have a death wish, he's not going to tell her that) and he doesn't know if their table will be ready in two minutes or two hours.

If it's the latter, Laurel may very well kill him first.

Then Tommy hears something he hadn't known he dreaded hearing until he does.

"Your table is ready, Mr. Queen."

Ollie certainly hadn't been there a minute ago when he talked to the hostess, meaning he'd literally walked in and got a table – there used to be a time when it was the same for him, not so long ago.

"Tommy?" He hears his best friend voice just as he turns around.

Ollie's not alone – not that he expected anything different, given the locale. But the girl he's with is not of his friend's usual fare of the tall brunette supermodel variety; no, she's short, blonde and while cute, she doesn't quite hit Ollie's usual variety of drop-dead gorgeous. She looks younger, too. Thea's friend, maybe?

Except – yeah, no. The way Ollie's cradling her to himself, no way that's platonic.

The dress is definitely expensive – haute couture kind of expensive – with matching shoes.

Surprising.

And Interesting.

Her own? Something Ollie bought for her? Gold-digger? Been a bit since Ollie's dated or slept with one of those. Tommy only hopes his friend remembers to rely on his own condoms rather than any of hers – boy had that been a surprise the first time he noticed punctures in the condom handed to him (he'd run out of there, buck-naked, freaked out and scared as hell, looking for his best friend).

He pastes on a smile, opening his mouth to reach out and greet Ollie when Laurel bursts in between, addressing the hostess instead of their friend and his date.

"Yeah, what about our table?"

He can see the puzzled look Ollie's throwing him. They both know how easy it is to get a table – slip the hostess money and you'd be seated immediately.

Great.

"It will be ready when it's ready," the hostess tells Laurel just as she told him, tone curt and he can practically read the disdain on her face at their behaviour, for daring to ask for service without bribes.

Wow. Why had he ever come here before? Usually, his dad's the only one this good at making him feel small.

"Join us," Ollie offers, ignoring Laurel largely to look at Tommy, trying to silently ask him what's going on.

He should confess- should share. That's his best friend. It's not like Tommy doesn't know that deep down, Ollie, the one he knows, would never judge him.

It's just- this new one? He's still trying to find his footing with the man who's as mercurial and fake as he's intense and sincere.

But definitely not here or now. Ollie's friend appears to agree, the blonde putting her hand on his chest and stalling him.

"Excuse me," she starts and the tone of her voice is sharp enough it's giving Tommy a flashback to Quentin interrogating him a few years back when he first thought about seriously pursuing Laurel. He's still not sure how Quentin had known, but had never dared openly ask him about either (he's not suicidal, thank you).

"Did you just tell our friends here that their table will be ready 'when it's ready'?" Bold of her to claim them friends when he doesn't even know her name, but no way is Tommy going to say anything against that tone of voice. He doesn't remember as much of his mom as he'd like to and Moira had always been fairly hands-off in the discipline department, but part of him can't help but think that that? That's a mom-voice.

"What kind of customer service is that?"

Tommy's eyes glance over to Ollie, to see how he's taking his date berating the Restaurant's hostess and finds his best friend looking at the blonde with a softness Tommy doesn't quite know how to pin. Ollie, the man who'd launched himself at paparazzi pre-island, who has come back tense and angry, is relaxed. His shoulders are back and he's showing no signs of intending to step in and interrupt. No, he's proud she's defending them.

His best friend looks content.

"Or is it just incompetence?" The blonde firecracker continues without hesitation while Tommy can't tear his eyes off his friend.

Ollie's actually smiling. A genuine one – not the one for press or family, but a genuine, soft, smile – directed solely at the blonde beside him.

"Are you unable to tell when your tables are ready? If so, what even is the point of booking here? If this is the way you treat the Merlyns of this city, how do you treat the Smoaks and Lances?"

The woman scoffs, gesturing to herself, to Laurel and him. Then she gets that fierce expression Laurel gets when she's practising arguments in front of him; it's one Tommy is very familiar with by now. She's going in for the kill.

"No, thank you. You can keep your table and your so-called service. We will not be dining here now – or ever again, actually."

The audacity of that nearly has Tommy staring at her in surprise – but he's been raised in the public eye, he knows how to control his facial expressions. Still, his eyes can't help but veer off to Ollie, to see how his friend takes this girl just speaking on his behalf as if she has any right to.

The sight that greets him has him automatically reaching for Laurel's hand, grasping hers tightly as he tries to decide if he's dreaming.

Ollie's never looked at anyone that way. Like he's absolutely besotted and hasn't seen anything more amazing and beautiful in his life.

Fuck. Who the hell is that girl?

"Mr. Queen?"

The hostess is obviously a lot stupider than he'd given her credit for and suddenly Tommy wonders how someone like that had ever made him feel small in comparison. Can't she see what's plainly written all over his best friend's face?

"You heard her," Ollie tells her, voice cool and not even giving the woman the courtesy of looking at her, his eyes still steadfast on the petite blonde.

"My- girlfriend definitely speaks for us in this."

And what was that hesitation? Tommy would like to think, given that he hadn't heard of or seen that woman before, it's a new relationship or a one-night-stand. Yet, just by looking at them, he can't help but feel like that hesitation around terminology was for a very different reason, even if he can't quite pin down what or why.

"The Queen family no longer requires a standing reservation at this restaurant. Tommy, Laurel, care to join us?"

Laurel's embarrassed by the attention, by the fact that instead of her defending others, it was someone defending her while she meekly stood by. Had this been a mere ten minutes ago, Tommy would have said it's because of Ollie – white knight to the rescue, the one Laurel always looks to for help.

But it was a tiny blonde instead. And one look at Ollie's face is enough to tell him that whatever him and Laurel had? Long over. Because he'd never looked at her the way he was looking at this tiny girl. Tommy shook the thought off, helping Laurel into her jacket before slipping on his own and filing out behind his best friend and his… girlfriend?

There was a small blush on Laurel's face, but both easily grabbed their jackets and followed them out.

They find the couple outside, Ollie's looking amused rather than upset at having one of their favourite date-restaurants permanently removed from his options, asking the girl where she wants them to go.

Tommy's wondering if he should make some suggestions, unsure if the blonde even lives in Starling City, when he realises Ollie's not even vaguely including them in the decision making. His eyes are on the blonde in his arms and he's completely turned toward her, to the extent he can't help but wonder if his best friend would even register his voice should he choose to speak up.

"Oooh, what about La Regina? I think they've just opened up recently."

Laurel looks just as unsure what to make of his version of Ollie or his date, tucking her arm under his own as she so rarely does, brows furrowed as she takes them in just as much as he does. It's their first date – he should be paying her more attention – much more, Tommy knows – but he can't help but be fascinated by the byplay going on in front of them. By seeing yet another new face on his best friend.

"You take far too much pleasure in going there."

"It's not my fault they called their restaurant 'the Queen'." Tommy snorts slightly and even Laurel is starting to relax, a small grin on her lips at the name.

"Besides, I'm not the one who basically begged them for the recipe to the Tiramisu."

That manages to raise eyebrows from both him and Laurel. Cooking? Oliver cooks?

"Felicity," So that's mystery-woman's name! "You moaned when you tasted it."

Laurel flinches at Ollie's playful tone even as he looks at this Felicity with hair-raising intensity. Yeah, Ollie's always been good at the bedroom eyes but this is that dialled up to eleven. His best friend's usually had no problem dropping girls the moment they indicated they weren't interested (hard to get did not work with Ollie) but he somehow can't help but picture his best friend desperate to get any kind of attention from this Felicity girl – and that he wouldn't just let her go without a fight.

Another new facet to Oliver. Mystery girl gets a few bonus points just for playing it cool when he's looking at her like that, playing coy as she looks up at him from underneath her lids (she really is tiny). "What can I say? It was good."

"I'm sure it was. I certainly don't remember hearing you complain when I made it for you a week later."

Yeah, no – while Tommy's seen Ollie flirting and overly handsy before (he is his wingman after all), this is so much more. There's the lust, sure, but it's also love and for the first time Tommy feels a bit voyeuristic and as if he should look away.

He's seen Ollie with a hand up a girl's skirt and done nothing more then bring him a new beer and wiggle his eyebrows comically. But this? Yeah, it's enough to make his ears heat and his eyes flit over to Laurel in second-hand embarrassment, because that girl? She's looking back in exactly the same way. It's like the air between them is sizzling – with more than just lust but passion, love. Yeah, no.

When Felicity tells him that it was good and leans in, Tommy decides to break the tension (because he has a feeling that when this cracks, there is no way these two will be aware or take note of anyone outside of themselves.

He clears his throat – which does exactly nothing – so he leans in between them, hands raised to physically push them apart.

What Tommy doesn't expect – not even after the kidnapping – is for Ollie's stare to turn cold, hard and flinty, for all the façade of the playboy to drop in an instant, Tommy's hand in a tight grip in his left and an arm around his shoulder. It might look friendly to Laurel, who hasn't so much as flinched, but he can feel the pressure around his throat before his friend recognises him and relaxes, a mere moment later.

An instant in which the blonde had jumped up, wide-eyed, staring at him as if he appeared out of nowhere. Tommy barely registers it, keeping stock-still and steady, until Ollie's hand moves to clasp his shoulder as if it had been nothing more than a friendly greeting.

God, and here Tommy had told himself for the last few weeks that what he'd thought he'd seen that day they'd been kidnapped had been nothing more than a mirage. He can't help but feel that it was just the barest inkling of what his best friend is now capable of. Quentin's accusation of Ollie being the Hood suddenly holds a lot more water.

Him disappearing during that party when he first came back – an idea which, Tommy can admit in retrospect, might not have been as well thought out as it should've been. But he supposes at least it provided his friend with an alibi. Yikes. Did that make Tommy his accomplice?

"Where did you come from?" Ollie's girlfriend asks him, hand clasped to her chest.

Realising he's surrounded by a lawyer – his own potential future girlfriend – an unknown – Felicity – and his best friend who's likely a murderous vigilante? Yeah, Tommy pastes his best unconcerned smile on, telling her they'd never left.

If this were any other moment and his mind not already spiralling? Yeah, he might be offended. At the moment Tommy really doesn't have the emotional capacity or processing power left in his brain to feel anything like that.

"Right, yes. Leaving." And then the blonde does the most adorable thing, bursting into a long-winded ramble, hand gestures and all, and Tommy can feel himself relax again.

"We were absolutely about to do that. Sorry – Hi. I'm Felicity Smoak, by the way. Nice to meet you both – Tommy, Laurel. This great big lug here has told me all about you both. Now, if you'll follow me, it's no more than five minutes to La Regina."

He's amused at how there hadn't even been time to shake hands (or hug), before the blonde holds her hand up to Ollie. Tommy wonders if he should warn her Ollie's not big on hand-holding unless he's seven and with Tommy or your name is Thea – at any age. Except his friend easily intertwines their hands like it's a habit.

"Aww, that's sweet, but I actually need your phone."

Tommy grins slightly when Oliver looks only slightly abashed but mostly exasperated. What he doesn't expect is for his friend to just hand over his phone – without complaint, or questions, just turning to Laurel and Tommy as if it's normal and familiar.

"Wait, do you need my- … Never mind," his best friend's sighing but tucking the blonde into himself – she goes willingly, but her eyes and entire focus is on the phone instead of the billionaire beside her.

It takes a moment before Tommy registers what Ollie'd started asking her – the girl managed to access his phone without a password? Or had spied on him and knew his password? How was his best friend not concerned at either of these options?

Laurel elbowed him less than gently at the ribs, mouthing 'talk to him' with a nod in Ollie's direction. Tommy keeps his sigh to himself and looks at his friend as if that man hadn't just had his arm around his throat in a silent, unvoiced threat.

But he knows when to fold – unlike Ollie, who far preferred pushing his luck.

"What's she doing?" he asks and his friend shrugs, looking at his phone but clearly not understanding. God, sometimes it was so easy to forget his friend had been on island, isolated from society, for five years – and then moments like this one brought it into sharp relief.

"No idea," he tells them like it doesn't matter.

Maybe Ollie really doesn't know that Felicity may be accessing his bank account, photos and a huge load of private information he may not want publicised. He looks at Laurel, unsure how to proceed, but she easily picks up the thread, asking him out loud, ignoring the blonde girlfriend as if she couldn't hear them (she's right there and Tommy's already found out how his best friend defends her, he'd rather not actually make him angry).

"Does that seem… safe to you? I mean, I don't know what data you keep on your phone, but-"

His friend's insouciant, completely ignoring all their multiple concerns as if it hadn't even occurred to him as a danger.

"Honestly, whether she had physical access to my phone matters very little in the scheme of things. I have full faith that if she wanted to, Felicity could get in and empty my bank account in under five minutes."

God help them, Tommy mouths 'five minutes' to Laurel, eyes wide, not knowing how to handle that while he's cut off and struggling, his friend is completely irreverent and uncaring of potentially losing all his money without ever being able to recuperate it.

"Two." Felicity's voice pipes up, telling them she had been listening after all. When he looks to his friend for clarification, Ollie – love-struck idiot that he appears to be this evening – seems more amused than wary when he tells them his girlfriend means she could wipe his entire bank account clean in under two minutes.

His arm around Laurel tightens in silent warning before she can quiz the girl – or Ollie – on just how she intended to do that. Within legal means. Because Tommy doesn't doubt by now that where pre-island Ollie used to take pleasure in flaunting the rules, this Ollie lives very much by his own rules (and, given that his friend is a vigilante, his own sense of right and wrong, too).

"And … that doesn't bother you?" Tommy manages to ask cautiously – partly genuinely curious because he had not handled the loss of access to his own money anywhere near as well, partly to pacify Laurel.

"Honestly? Felicity could probably handle my money better than I ever could. And put it to better use. If she decides she needs it, why not." All of that, he can handle – not understand, not that, but handle, yes – but then his friend says something that has Laurel digging her nails into his arm and him full-body twitching. "Besides, she knows that what's mine is hers."

Wide-eyed he looks at Laurel. It's a faux-pas, right? Has to be. Ollie must just not have realised what that sounded like.

Except then the blonde looks up at Ollie and tells him, "ditto," before putting the phone back into Ollie's pocket without hesitation.

Holy… Laurel looks flustered and upset, but just as confused as he feels. Ollie's not one for marriage. Or long-term. At least not the one he knows. Not even post-island.

Except for now. Apparently. When he clearly is.

What the hell even is happening?

All thoughts of trying to make this a date to remember, to put all his focus and attention on Laurel, have suddenly become secondary.

Because that there? That's his best friend. And yeah, he looks a hell of a lot happier than he's seen him – ever, and that's including that time when he first held and introduced Tommy to baby-Thea, and of course Tommy's happy for him – but most of all he wants to get it. Because this looks like a brand-new Ollie. One he's never met before. One Laurel's never met before.

Raincheck, Laurel mouths to him, brows furrowed, but all her attention on the pair in front of them, just as much as his own. Tommy nods firmly, just as focused.

Yeah, there's no danger of Ollie rekindling with Laurel, Tommy's realised, he's got all the time to woo that girl and put his attention on focus on her. But that's definitely not going to be tonight. He feels discombobulated like never before, his world keeps being upended at every turn tonight.

Tommy's aware enough to tear his eyes off them and help Laurel out of her jacket and make some sort of casual comment about the restaurant – he's only passively aware of it, he's got three dozen of these phrases always at the tip of his tongue just for etiquette's sake, the formalities too engrained, too young, for him to not make some sort of comment, even if he cannot recall what he said (or if it was appropriate).

Then Oliver whispers something to Felicity and both him and Laurel freeze, watching as he bows over her, fairly covering her entirely with his body as they talk. It's like they're in their own bubble, only periodically becoming aware again of the outside world – like when the waiter returns.

"What the hell is going on?" Laurel whispers into his ear and he only just manages to shake his head.

"Damned if I know," he tells her. "Have you ever heard of 'Felicity' before tonight?" He asks her in return, remaining a few steps behind the pair so they can have their conversation quickly in bouts of hissed whispers.

"Never," she reassures him and he shakes his head just as sharply at her questioning stare. Yeah.

"Drugs?" Laurel asks in an even quieter whisper when he pulls her chair out for her and Tommy takes a moment to send her a quick surprised glance. He knows Ollie occasionally passed some drugs off to her when she needed to study, but he didn't think she knew about how often they took them recreationally (until Tommy had a bad trip half a year after the Gambit sank, that is, and there'd been no one there who was looking out for him; frankly, it was a miracle he'd made it. His dad had covered the entire thing up, of course, not even Thea knew).

"Not since the island," he whispers into her ear as he pushes her chair in. Oliver hadn't even so much as looked twice before binning them. Laurel side-eyes him but appears to believe him, giving him a barely noticeable nod.

"So, how long have you known each other?" Laurel asks and Tommy winces, knowing immediately where that question is from.

Did Oliver cheat on me with you, is the silent question underlying that tone. But more than that, given how he looks at you, was he cheating on you with me?

"We first saw each other after he came back from the island. IT problems."

Tommy believes her and Laurel relaxes – obviously feeling the same. That would mean he's known Felicity for probably less than what? Two months? If that.

All eyes snap to Oliver when he disagrees, but he's not sparing them even a glance.

"I saw you before that."

"Really? When?"

He only barely stifles a sigh. Once again they're off in their own little world, eyes only for each other.

"My mother's office in QC. You were dropping off files."

Tommy finds himself yanking on Laurel's hand quickly, wide-eyed, unable to tear his eyes away as he nods for her to take a look. They've all been friends for longer – much longer – than they've been romantic or sexual partners, and he knows his maybe-girlfriend is just as shocked when her mouth drops open and she clenches her hand around his.

Ollie's smiling. Again. Tommy can count on one hand the amount of genuine smiles he's seen on his best friend's face in the last two months. Now he's seen two in the same night.

But it's not just that – the way he looks at Felicity, the soft warmth in that smile, the sheer love that Tommy can see just at the memory of when he first saw her? Yeah. He's not ever seen that before. Not on his dad's face about Rebecca. Not on Moira's. And certainly never on Ollie's.

"You were talking to yourself. And to the picture of me on her desk."

Neither he nor Laurel dare to interrupt for fear of wiping that smile away, remaining still, hands clenched around each other.

"No! You mean when your fingerprint-"

They're both smiling at each other like they're sharing a secret instead of talking publicly in a restaurant.

"You called me cute." Ollie's tone is teasing, playful but his gaze has becoming even more tender somehow – enough so, it has Tommy swallowing at the sheer emotion between them.

"Well, you're lucky I didn't mention your serial-killer haircut," Felicity jokes right back and the softness is replaced by confusion. Hell, Tommy's not even part of the conversation, but he's feeling whiplash at the rapid change in mood.

"My what?" Ollie asks.

"Come on, you'll agree with me, won't you?" The girl's turning to Laurel with an inviting grin. "I mean, I've only ever seen it on TV and pictures, but that haircut."

Tommy's not sure who is more surprised when Laurel lets out a snort – her or themselves. There's a pause where they all look at her, with her hand clapped in front of her mouth, before they all burst into raucous laughter. He can't help but note Laurel, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, agrees with Felicity and laughs harder when he sees his friend pout at the confirmation.

Tommy has no idea what changed or why, or how his best friend's suddenly so openly emotive – he has a feeling it all has to do with their blonde dinner companion, though, and he can't wait to find out more. Because this new Ollie? He's happy. And Tommy hadn't known how long it had been since he'd seen even a glimpse of that on his friend face until now.

Laurel squeezes his hand under the table, silently letting him know she feels the same way and agrees. Because they were all friends once and as much hurt and guilt and pain has built up in the years between them all, in the end, they were all friends first, back when Laurel's hair was still in pigtails, before Ollie looked like a serial killer and when Tommy looked like a much younger version of his usual handsome debonair self.

Author's Notes:

Please comment and review :) I really thought I'd get more of Tommy's POV in but all I managed is the same conversation we've had so far. At least now we're all caught up and can include new things in the next bit.
Next chapter I intend to include Oliver referencing 'their' song to Felicity and being super-sappy. I looked for a suitable video on youtube as well, but no one's paired an Olicity video with it yet and my talents are, unfortunately, not in that area. Oh well, we'll make do with the lyrics.

Anyway, comment and review please - what do you think? Was Tommy in character? That's his boy - taking priority even over Laurel? What do you think of Laurel so far? Them together? Share your thoughts please :) Hope you liked it.