Chapter Text
“Another round darling?”
Felicity nodded to the old men- choosing not to begrudge them calling her darling. Though some of the bar’s patrons could be sexist creeps, her step-father’s old cop buddies , were always respectful.
Their kind faces along with the smile Quentin shot her as she filled her tray again did little to help the ache in her feet after a double shift though.
If anyone had asked Felicity when she was young what she imagined herself doing at 23 years old she would have said running a corporate company. Not waitressing in her step-father’s bar.
But life had a way of slapping Felicity in the face.
First it had been when her father left when she was seven. Then when her mother re-married a cop- with two daughters who despite being out of the house, hated her- when she was fifteen. The one saving grace had been how much Quentin Lance had loved her and her mother. His love hadn’t stopped her mother from getting cancer though. To be fair neither had Felicity’s.
Felicity had abandoned MIT to take care of her and Quentin- already retired from a shot to the knee- had taken out loans to pay the bills. All that effort for her mother to waste away a year after she’d been diagnosed.
And four months after her mother’s death Felicity and Quentin had barely made a dent in the loans. Quentin had tried to force Felicity to go back to MIT, but the thought of abandoning him made Felicity sick.
So she was here until Quentin didn’t have to work himself to the bone trying to pay back bills.
“Last call!” Quentin shouted.
Felicity pushed between the crowd working their way to the bar. A hand grabbed Felicity’s as she passed- not altogether strange but Felicity felt her eyes widen when she spotted Roy. The younger boy only came here when he was doing business or Oliver and he hadn’t stopped by the bar for a month since she’d told him to fuck off.
“He wants to talk to you,” Roy said.
“Roy, you’re a sweet kid but tell Oliver I said he can eat shit.”
Roy paled. “Yea, Im not going to do that.”
“Then tell him I said no thanks.”
“I do that and he’s going to make me eat dirt.”
“Then tell him I wasn’t working tonight.”
Felicity shrugged him off and made her way to the table of retired cops. She traded conversation with them and other customers- going out of her way to avoid Roy- until everyone was ushered out of the bar. Roy was last of all, shooting her a pleading look that Felicity pointedly ignored.
“Go home, dad,” Felicity insisted.
Quentin’s eyes warmed the same way they did any time she called him dad and a knot formed in her throat.
“I’m not leaving you here this late.”
“I’ll be fine. You look exhausted.” Felicity smiled as Quentin frowned. “Kyle is still out front right? He can walk me to my car.”
Quentin stared her down for a moment before nodding. “I’ll make sure to tell him to wait.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before leaving. Most of the cleaning had already been done, so it only took another hour before Felicity locked up. Kyle, a burly man with a nasty scar on his cheek, smiled at her as she exited.
“Thanks for waiting.”
“Anytime.”
They walked across the parking lot and Felicity waved as he got into his truck.
“Felicity.”
She jumped at the sound of an all too familiar voice and glared at Oliver as he appeared from the darkness.
“What are you doing?” She asked with a soft cry.
He looked devastatingly handsome in his suit and as he ran a hand through his cropped hair.
“Waiting for you since you weren’t coming out to me.”
“What part of fuck off did you not get?” Felicity asked as she tried to open her car door.
Oliver set a hand on her door so she couldn’t open it.
“I gave you a month to cool down. You’re not really still upset are you?”
“Roy must not have passed along my message that you can eat shit,” Felicity replied.
Instead of getting upset, Oliver smiled. Felicity really wished he wouldn’t because he was too damn handsome when he did.
“Would you back up so I can leave please?”
“Nope.”
“I will punch you in the nuts.”
Oliver’s smile widened. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re angry.”
That was new and Felicity tried not to stutter around her surprise.
“Oliver.”
“Felicity.”
She glared and he leaned against her car.
“What do you want?” Felicity asked.
“Give me five minutes,” Oliver commanded more than asked.
“Fine, starting now.”
“I never lied to you.”
Felicity stared at Oliver waiting for more but he only looked at her expectantly.
“Really, that’s all you’re going to say?”
“That’s why you’re mad right? Because you think I lied to you?”
“One, you did lie to me. Lies of omission are still lies. Secondly, that is about ten percent of my anger. You are a criminal.”
“In a sense,” Oliver replied without shame.
“You hurt people. You kill people.”
“You’re making assumptions now,” Oliver said.
“So you’ve never killed anyone? Never shot at a cop or busted one up?” Felicity asked.
Oliver said nothing. The muscle in his jaw ticking.
“I didn’t shoot Quentin.”
“No, but you’re no better than the man who did. I don’t want to be friends with someone like that. So like I said before, fuck off.”
Oliver’s hand pressed against the door again.
“You didn’t really think I wanted friendship from you did you?”
He crowded into her and Felicity pressed her back against her car. He breath caught in her throat and Oliver’s smirk confirmed he heard the hitch.
“I know I’m not the only one who felt the spark Felicity.”
“You’re delusional.”
“No, I’m stubborn. A bit of a bastard. And so many other things, but definitely not delusional. Your top is too thin to hide the effect I have on you.”
Felicity cursed at herself for not wearing a baggier top. “It’s cold out.”
The gust of warm, summer air that pushed between them mocked her.
Oliver smirked and his gaze flickered to her lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Felicity.”
Felicity wanted to tell him to fuck off again, but the words couldn’t escape her dry throat. She could feel eyes on her as she ducked into her car and watched the headlights pop on as she pulled from the parking lot. The town car followed her all the way home.
# one month ago #
Felicity wiped the sweat from the back of her neck with the damp paper towel and flashed Quentin a soft smile. The air conditioning had gone out thirty minutes ago, but that hadn’t stopped the crowd from coming in. They just bitched louder than usual.
“Crack a window, Quentin!” One voice cried.
“Just drink your beer,” Quentin replied.
Felicity muffled her laughter as she brought the next table their drinks. They thanked her with winks that Felicity ignored as she heard her name called softly.
She twisted to find Roy sitting by himself, a drink in hand. “You have five minutes?” He asked.
Felicity hated how giddy she got. The butterflies flying in her stomach.
“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”
Roy was already pulling out his phone when Felicity made her way back to the bar.
“Hey, can I take a five minute break?” Felicity asked Quentin.
He gave her that dry look he always did when she asked. According to Quentin, she worked too hard. As if they didn’t work the same hours. “Take all the time you need.”
“I just need five minutes, mother hen.”
Quentin huffed at the nickname while the patrons at the bar laughed. Felicity set her tray down and pushed through the crowd towards the door. It was only when the air outside hit her cheeks, and actually felt cool, that she worried what she would smell like after sweating in the bar for the last three hours.
“Felicity.”
She turned at her name and saw Oliver standing at the corner of the building, his regular spot beneath the bar’s lights. In the last four months it had become a bit of a tradition. Oliver didn’t come to see her every night but when he did he always stood under the lights. Out of sight until she came outside. Felicity had long gotten over telling Oliver he could come inside.
After years spent bouncing between dating and sleeping with Laurel and Sara, Oliver had effectively gotten himself onto Quentin’s shit list. Felicity really couldn’t blame her step-dad, but now that she didn’t hate Oliver she wished Quentin would try to see the man he’d become.
The first time she’d met Oliver- when he came home with Laurel for Christmas- he’d been half drunk and the source of most of the drama that week. The man who reached out to her after her mother passed was not that same boy. And though rationally Felicity knew the dislike she had for him was less powerful than Quentin’s hate Felicity wished they didn’t have to hide their friendship.
“How was work?” Felicity asked.
“Hell. This whole day has been hell. But it’s better now,” Oliver replied.
Felicity squashed the butterflies in her stomach. He may be CEO and more mature now but he was still a flirt. And Felicity as really doing everything in her power to not read too much into his words.
“Does that line usually work?”
“Usually I’m not using it on certified geniuses.”
“You need to up your dating pool, Queen.”
“I’m trying,” Oliver said and shot her a pointed look.
Felicity shifted under the weight of his stare. If she hadn’t been sweating before she would be now.
“You up for lunch tomorrow? We can go to the bistro by Queen’s Consolidated,” Felicity offered. Any excuse to change the subject.
Oliver opened his mouth to respond but a deep voice shouting his name silenced them both. Oliver’s eyes narrowed as a tall, well built man crossed the parking lot.
“Kapitan. What are you doing at a cops’ bar?” The man laughed but the sound was silenced when he looked at her. “Ah I see. What’s your going rate, babe?”
Felicity glared at the man but as soon as she did Oliver slammed the man against the wall. Felciity’s cry for him to stop was silenced by the sight of a gun tucked beneath the waist band of Oliver’s pants.
Felicity couldn’t hear what Oliver whispered to the man but she watched the color drain from his face. Oliver backed away from the man, his suit jacket sliding back into place and covering the gun.
“I’m sorry. Real sorry, “ the man mumbled as he rushed away.
“Fucking idiot,” Oliver muttered as he turned to face her.
Her expression must have given away the fear that had lodged itself into her chest because Oliver tried to take a step closer to her. She backed away, throwing her hands up.
“Why do you have a gun?” Felciity asked.
“Felicity let me explain.”
“Why did that man call you Kapitan?”
Felciity had heard enough talk around her kitchen table to know Kapitan was a position in the Bratva. Quentin had been on the gang task force when he’d been shot. Triad, Bratva, and the Italian mob had been the topic of many conversations.
“Felicity.”
He tried to step towards her again, but Felicity backed away.
“Oh God. I’m an idiot.”
Working at a cop bar meant she heard rumors. Whispers from men about how the Queen’s were dirty. Involved with the mob. Felicity had rolled her eyes at the whispers. Once she’d even told the men to shut up.
Even though she’d seen him with blood on his neck once- a shaving accident- and heard him cursing someone out in Russian- someone in their branch in Russia he’d claimed.
Hands cupped her elbows and Felicity pushed him away. Not that it did much seeing as how Oliver was built like a brick wall.
“Stay away from me.”
“Felicity, listen to me, please.”
“Fuck off.”
It was the last thing Felicity said before storming back into the bar.
# present #
They had just closed for the night when the door creaked open. Quentin paled and Felicity followed his line of sight to see Oliver, Roy and Diggle coming into the bar.
“We’re closed,” Felicity stated.
“Felciity, why don’t you head home. I’ll close up,” Quentin said.
Felicity looked between her step-dad and Oliver. Oliver’s expression was unreadable while Quentin looked sick.
“No way. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Felicity please.”
“What are you doing here? “Felicity asked.
Oliver looked past her to Quentin. “You’re late on your payment and I’m all out of extensions.”
“Oliver, please not here,” Quentin begged.
Like it wasn’t already too late.
“You borrowed money from Oliver?” Felicity asked.
Felicity had never seen her step-dad look so defeated. His eyes were wet and his shoulder slumped.
“Technically he borrowed from the Bratva,” Oliver said.
“You’re lying,” Felicity hissed even as Quentin pressed a hand over his face.
“Dad, please tell me you didn’t do that.”
“I had no choice. I’d done everything I could legally and still we ran out of money six months in. I’m so sorry, Felicity.”
The apology gutted her. Not just because the pedestal Felciity set Quentin on had taken a tumble but because he’d only put himself in this position because he had loved her mother. Felicity rounded the bar and wrapped her arms around Quentin’s middle. He chest shuddered beneath her cheek.
“I don’t have the money right now, Oliver. Add any interest you want.”
“You’re all maxed out, Quentin,” Oliver said.
Felicity was mentally clawing his eyes out but she settled on turning and glaring at him. Quentin’s hand slid to her shoulder and tightened, holding her into place.
“For old times sake I’d be willing to consider different avenues of payment.”
“You already have the deed to the bar,” Quentin sighed.
“I wasn’t talking about the bar,” Oliver replied before his gaze landed on her.
Quentin froze beside her and Felicity felt herself do the same.
“Nothing sick. Felicity goes on a date with me and I give you the extension.”
“Over my dead body,” Quentin growled.
“The choice should be, Felicity’s,” Oliver said.
“Listen you little creep, you come near my daughter I will shoot you!”
This time Felicity held Quentin back. Diggle and Roy moved forward but Oliver stopped them with a wave.
“Come on Felciity, it’ll be like our lunch dates only I’ll wine and dine you.”
“Lunch dates?” Quentin asked like someone had punched him in the stomach.
“We were friends,” Felicity stated.
Now she couldn’t help but wonder if Oliver had gotten close to her so he could use her as a pawn when needed.
“One date for a two week extension,” Oliver offered.
“How much do we owe?” Felicity asked.
“Ten thousand. The interest has been building up.”
Felicity was going to throw up. How in the hell were they supposed to pay that?
One look at Quentin told her they couldn’t.
“What will it take for you to wipe that payment off the books?” Felicity asked.
Oliver smirked, excited by the question and Felicity glared.
“Let’s say ten dates. One for every thousand.”
Diggle and Roy both looked to each other, but Felicity didn’t need to see their surprise to know it was a good deal. Even if it felt like a trap.
“Done.”
“No, not done. Oliver, I will pay you. Give me until tomorrow. Please,” Quentin plead.
“I’d rather have the dates than the money,” Oliver admitted.
He looked to Felicity and had the nerve to wink.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow for dinner. Dress in something nice.”
Felicity resisted the urge to flip him off.
Quentin tried to follow the trio out, but Felicity gripped onto his arm.
“I’m not letting you do this.”
“It’s ten dates. That’s nothing compared to ten thousand dollars.”
Quentin looked like he was going to pass out.
“God kid, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Stop Quentin. I just wish you had told me before.” Before she had ever become friends with Oliver. “ We’re supposed to be in this together.”
“No we’re not. Borrowing from them was my choice. My mistake.”
“You did it for my mom. And you are the only family I have left. The only person I really have left. Ten dates is nothing.”
Felicity couldn’t force herself to feel the same conviction she spoke with. The memory of Oliver’s determined gaze was still too fresh.
Ten dates.
She could do ten dates.