Title: You Hide and I Seek

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: Just a little something inspired by the news that they cast Mama Smoak! Some Team Arrow time with a dash of Olicity angst set after the s3 premiere based on what spoilers we know regarding the premiere. ;)

Thanks in advance if you comment. Hope everyone has an awesome August!

"And in celebration of National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, we'd like to offer you four freshly baked chocolate chip cookies for fifty-percent off the normal price," the waitress adds as she finishes taking their order.

"National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day?" Roy repeats with a snort of laughter. "How often does that come around?"

"Every year, on May 15th," the waitress informs him with a grin. "So, what do you say, cookies for the table? They're delicious, I promise."

Felicity looks up from her tablet at that tidbit of information, eyes widening at the trivia. "Shit! It's May 15th?"

Roy, Diggle, Oliver, and Jenny the waitress turn to her in surprise, and she flushes at her outburst and the swear word that slipped out of her mouth. "Sorry! I just- I forgot- I have to- I have to do something-" Felicity sets her tablet down on the table, and stands up immediately, taking two steps away from the table before she hurries back. "Sorry. My purse. Need that." She grabs it from underneath her chair then hurries out of the restaurant for some privacy.

"So, the cookies?" Jenny asks, turning to Oliver for an answer, ignoring the slight scene she had just witnessed. Just part of the job for Jenny.

"Uh, sure," Oliver agrees offhandedly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watches the double doors Felicity quickly exited through.

"What was that about?" Diggle asks the other two once the waitress leaves. "Did she leave some program running?"

"No," Oliver says with confidence, "I remember her turning all her computers off."

"Maybe it's something else. Like, girl stuff," Roy suggests with a shrug. Oliver turns to stare at him incredulously, as if the concept of Felicity having "girl stuff" to deal with is a foreign concept. "You know, 'cause Felicity's a girl."

"Yes, we know that."

"Well, like, maybe she's supposed to take her birth control shot on the 15th of every month or something."

Both Oliver and Diggle choke on their drinks. Diggle manages to compose himself sooner, grinning in amusement while Oliver gasps for air and struggles to find a napkin under the dishes of appetizers they've ordered.

"What? I'm just saying!" Roy says hurriedly when Oliver shoots him a glare. "My ex-girlfriend took a shot every month instead of going on the pill - it exists!"

"Great, you're knowledgable about different forms of birth control. Glad to know Thea's in good hands," Diggle jokes with a chuckle. This time, Oliver throws a glare his way, but the older man doesn't look fazed one bit. "Okay, let's not jump to conclusions and speculate about Felicity's personal life and her-"

"She hates needles."

Diggle and Roy turn to Oliver, who shrugs at the looks they're giving him, something like and how do you know that, huh?

"I just know she hates needles," is all he says.

"She's outside on the phone." Roy arches his neck to look through the window he's sitting next to, trying not to bump into the couple seated at the table behind them. "Who's she calling?"

"Roy, sit straight," Diggle orders, "it's rude to eavesdrop."

Roy straightens from the window, grumbling something about how he could possibly eavesdrop from inside the building, he's not Spiderman, but Felicity returns a minute later, cheeks reddened from the last of the winter winds, blonde hair curling around the blue scarf she's wearing.

"Okay, I'm back. Sorry. Did she bring out my curly fries yet? Yum!"

"Alright, boys, I'm calling it a night," Felicity declares, pushing her computer chair away from the desk with a flourish as she stretches her arms with a loud yawn. "One overseas money trail found. The other bad guys will have to wait until tomorrow."

"I want to go home too," Roy groans from the other side of the room where Oliver has him working on his accuracy with his crossbow again.

"Not until you hit another fifteen in a row. Keep going. I'll walk you out, Felicity," Oliver tells her, grabbing his sweatshirt from his work bench.

"Oh, you don't have to..." she begins lamely, even as she follows him to the exit, eyes trailing over the muscles of his back as he slides on the sweatshirt. "Thanks. Good night, Roy." She grins when the last thing she hears before the foundry door slams is the sound of the Arsenal's exaggerated groan, and turns to Oliver to suggest, "You should go a little easier on him. He's been at it all day."

"Felicity," he begins, his tone steel-toned and loaded as he refers to countless conversations they've had before, all summarized in the way he says her name.

"Right, right," she relents immediately. "Going easy on him now could mean a serious injury later. Got it, boss."

"I'm not your-"

"Got it, partner," she amends with a smile. He smiles back, unconsciously angling his next step so he ends up walking a little closer to her on the sidewalk, his elbow brushing the bare skin of her arm.

"So, what was that about?" he asks just before they're at her car. Her reaction has been nagging at him all evening, until the words burst out before he can remind himself to keep quiet on the subject. Maybe a little bit of Felicity Smoak is rubbing off on him. (Oh shit, that was another Felicity innuendo.) "At dinner? What'd you forget?"

"Oh, you know, had to order new business cards, call the dry cleaners about my favorite sweater they lost. Nothing important," she jokes, her tone light. But her shoulders droop just the slightest, and she wraps her jacket around herself a little tighter as if she feels a sudden chill in the air.

"Felicity." This time, her name is said with all the gentleness he can muster - which is more than a person could imagine for a man who sharpens his own arrows and has an arsenal of explosives.

She sighs in exasperation, and maybe a hint of exhaustion, and he realizes how late it is, how she has an early day at QC the next day, how she's not accustomed to sleeping so little like he is. He feels another twinge of guilt about how he's completely changed her life, and not for the better.

"Fine. May 15th. It's my mom's birthday. I almost forgot to call her," she confesses quietly into the night. Her words hover between them, a secret that they enclose from any onlookers with wandering eyes or sharp hearing.

"Oh." He doesn't know what answer he was expecting, whether it would be about birth control or an appointment with her rabbi, but this wasn't on the list either. "I thought... don't you have a Google calendar you use to organize your life?" he teases gently, anything to put a smile back on her face.

She does smile, albeit a little sadly and he wishes he'd never brought up it up, had just buried the question underneath all his suspicions, never allowed it to poke at him and reach the surface where it managed to steal the happiness off her face.

"I don't like to put it on my calendar. Seeing it in writing ruins my whole month."

"You don't talk about your mother." He mentally slaps himself for wasting words on such an obvious statement, disappointed when she quickly searches for her keys and gets into her car.

"You don't talk about yourself much either, do you?" she replies back, a hint of warning in her otherwise harmonic voice.

Message received.

He steps back, allowing her to shut her car door and effectively place another barrier between them. There had been Barry and Isabel, the mirakaru cure and a dark mansion full of cameras, a first date that concluded with her unconscious, and a tearful conversation that maybe it was best to leave things as they are.

"You hate needles, right?"

She makes a face of disgust, hissing at the word and shaking her head frantically. "Duh. Like, I can't even donate blood. My friend Cynthia took me once because there was this really cute TA who was volunteering at the blood drive, and I got in the chair but I ended up nearly hyperventilating and they had to call the mental health counselor to calm me down. It's a little rude that they think that anyone with a fear needs a counselor, don't you think? I mean, can't you just be scared of something and it be okay? It's the body's natural defense mechanism, like read an evolutionary biology article, people." Felicity huffs in frustration, slamming the steering wheel in anger without even realizing she's done it.

But Oliver notices. He notices everything.

"So, yeah, anyway, no needles, not for me, no thank you."

Oliver grins in amusement, glad he'd gotten something right tonight. There are pieces of her that he has stowed away, that no one can steal, not Ray Palmer, and not a psycho bomber who targeted Oliver Queen and his pretty blonde date on a Wednesday night where he'd been his happiest. Those are the pieces of her he'll hold since he is left only imagining what it would be like to hold her.

"Good night, Felicity."

"Good night, Oliver."

the end ~