Chapter 8: David Bowie-isms and The Breakfast Club

/XDSDaFhOuo4

"You're sure you don't want a party?" Tommy asked Felicity for the umpteenth time that morning, "Because it's not too late; we could figure something out and McKenna said she'd help."

"Yeah, throwing a party on the fly is kind of our wheelhouse," Brandon said as he shut the car door behind him then paused, "Of course, that was mostly just us ordering up a few kegs and then spending the rest of the night getting wrecked out of our skulls so…probably not the same thing as throwing an impromptu birthday for a thirteen year old girl..." he hummed, rocking back on his heels slightly with a furrowed brow. "Okay, so maybe not our wheelhouse after all."

"You think?" Tommy asked wryly as he helped Felicity out of the back seat then gave the sports car one last resentful look before heading inside.

It wasn't that he didn't like the gleaming red sports car; he did. Truth was he was jealous as hell when Brandon first got it because his dad refused to buy him something similar…and it was a beautiful vehicle, too; all sleek lines and molded contours that made it look like a speeding bullet even when parked. He just would've rather taken his Jeep or one of the SUV's from the garage that day instead. He lobbied hard for it but Felicity insisted that it was her day, her choice, and he was the one who came up with the rules of 'Felicity Day', not her.

Yeah, not his best idea ever but now he was stuck with it.

It wasn't envy that was affecting his current state of mind though; not entirely. That was part of it however, but not because of the car. Sure, the Jag XKR was fucking awesome; any red-blooded guy would pop a boner just at the thought of owning something like that, but now that he was planning on going to Harvard instead of partying with Oliver after graduation, he'd pretty much decided that the hot sports car would have to wait a few more years. Yeah, the original plan had been to tell Malcolm he wanted something low slung and sexy as his graduation gift but, after realizing just how fucking cold it got in Cambridge during the winter, he decided to save that dream until he returned to the West Coast permanently. Hell, he couldn't even imagining driving in that shit with his soft top. If he was going to be living someplace where the wind chill dipped below zero (instead of going to college in the Bahamas or something like he would have preferred), he wanted heated seats and something better insulated than a rag top convertible or canvas flaps. Plus, since Felicity was going to be joining him there, they needed something that was safe, roomy, and reliable, not to mention built like a fucking tank.

It sounded boring, yeah, but it wouldn't be that bad, he told himself. After Felicity started telling him what it would be like living in Cambridge, he'd even started researching potential vehicles on the internet. He'd pretty much decided on a SUV after looking at some of the concept cars slated to come out in the next year or so. The Land Rover Defender he saw looked promising so, even though it sucked to have to wait on his dream car, a little convertible just didn't make sense for them; not at this time, anyway. An SUV? That made sense. Even one of Malcolm's boring four door Mercedes sedans made sense, but he just couldn't see putting snow tires on a sports car and he wasn't really interested in playing on black ice with her in the passenger seat.

So yeah, despite the tickles of envy he felt, the car wasn't the reason he was in a shitty mood; what really got him started that morning was Malcolm and his bullshit. That and the fact that he wasn't the one driving. He was already in a bad mood because of his dad so the fact that he was stuck in the passenger seat only served to continue to erode his at his sang-froid.

Ever since Felicity told him what that meant he'd been dying to use it in a sentence. Unfortunately the only chance he'd gotten to do that so far was in his head. He was planning on unloading it on McKenna just to watch her do a spit-take after she and Felicity completely pwned them at Scrabble the other day.

Yeah, he still said that game was fixed. That was bullshit. Nobody hits the triple word score that many times in a row—nobody.

As for spending the day stuck in backseat driver mode, it wasn't that he was normally a control freak or anything; he was just pissed off at Malcolm and the position he'd put him in by promising Felicity he'd be there for her birthday even though they both knew he wouldn't show.

Hell, he already missed it, Tommy thought silently. Today was her birthday, not tomorrow. Even if he did show up, he was still a day late and a dollar short. Actually, if Malcolm did have to pay him a dollar every time he came up short by missing his major milestones, he'd be broke and Tommy would be the billionaire. The difference is, he expected Malcolm to disappoint him, Felicity didn't.

Being able to drive his own vehicle, being the one in control; that might have helped level out his mood somewhat. He'd still be pissed but at least then he wouldn't feel like he was reacting to the situation rather than having to literally ride it out.

Driving always relaxed him. There was nothing Tommy loved more than a good party or a long drive down the coast. There were many days when he and Ollie would just jump in a car and head down the Pacific Coast Highway, top down and radio blasting. Partying had been their other major source of stress relief, but with partying off the table, he'd been looking forward to unwinding a little from behind the wheel.

Brandon being the one in the driver's seat instead of him set his teeth on edge and would have even if this other shit wasn't putting him in a mood.

Okay, so he'd admit, he'd gotten a few tickets, too. A speeding ticket here and there, tons of parking violations…one lone (and now permanently buried) charge of Grand Theft Auto, but even if he had a habit of forgetting to feed the meter occasionally, the other man had a need for speed and would've lost him his license from speeding tickets alone if not for his own father's intervention. And that wasn't including the fact that this was his third sports car in six months.

He felt a little surge of guilt at that. Yeah, okay, so Brandon promised to keep it under the speed limit, and yeah, he'd kept his word so far, but a car like that was meant to go fast. He'd driven the Jag himself once when they went back for the other man's Jeepster after he started staying over on a regular basis. One second he was just cruising along and the next he was feathering the brakes, scared shitless after he looked down at the speedometer and realized he was going almost 135 mph without even breaking a sweat.

That wasn't to say he didn't like going fast just as much as the next guy, because he did and had the points on his license to prove it. He'd caught his fair share of rides to the Blue Light Disco for speeding, not as many times as Ollie or Brandon, but he liked a bit of zoom-zoom, too. Had it just been just him and Brandon, he would've been okay with exploring his inner Andretti, but not as long as Felicity was in the car with them. Even so…

Okay, so maybe it was more than just a trickle of envy he was feeling.

He gave the gleaming red convertible one last longing look and sighed. He didn't regret Felicity being in his life or sacrificing partying, girls, or anything else for that matter; she was worth it. Still, his fantasy of owning his own sports car was almost as hard to give up as his now-failed romance with Dream Girl Laurel had been.

Actually more, he admitted reluctantly. Girls came and went, but a man's love for his dream car was forever. He knew exactly what he wanted, too: a silver Mercedes McLaren. Most people would go with red or black, but when he thought about his Dream Car all he could think about was a gleaming streak of silver, its mirrored perfection gleaming under the sunlight as he drove it down the PCH with the top down and his Dream Girl in the seat beside him heading off into the sunset together.

And then reality came crashing down which meant no Dream Girl, no Dream Car; nothing. Instead, he got a Jeep. A silver Jeep, but still a Jeep.

Unlike the Queen's and the McNamara's, Malcolm didn't really go for flash as evidenced by their home which, while very large and beautiful, was modest in comparison to most billionaire's homes. He also wasn't really a car guy so, while Tommy had never wanted for anything, he didn't have as large a collection of exotic vehicles to choose from as his buddies did. That wasn't to say he drove around in an old beater, just that he didn't have a fleet of awesome cars to choose from. Instead, he had his choice of his dad's boring as dog shit old fart cars that didn't exactly scream 'sexy' as much as they screamed 'I make a lot of money and vote Republican', and his one and only personal vehicle; a fully loaded soft top Jeep Renegade.

Not that he didn't like his truck; hell, he loved his truck. What teenaged boy didn't like something that was could barrel ass off-road and go just about anywhere; that thing was fun as hell. However, what he wanted for his sixteenth birthday was a silver *sports car* that was guaranteed to get him laid in the backseat but Malcolm said he didn't want Tommy to get himself killed.

Ollie was the one who fucked him on that one long before Brandon had his chance. Less than a week after he got his license, he wrapped his first car around a tree and got a DUI. Malcolm's reasoning was that whatever Ollie did, Tommy eventually did too, which is why he wound up with something that had push bars and a roll cage instead. Brandon's later adventures in twisted metal just helped seal the deal.

Okay, so maybe that sounded like responsible parenting and Malcolm did have a point when he said that the Jeep fit Tommy's current lifestyle better than a sports car would. He wasn't as big of a fitness nut as Brandon and Ollie but he did like to surf occasionally, enjoyed fishing and camping, and took advantage of the great outdoors whenever the mood struck. At the time though, he was less interested in being practical and more interested in getting laid. In his experience, girls liked gleaming red Jaguars with buttery leather seats so they could cruise around the city and show off to their friends. They didn't like riding around in mud splattered Jeeps with board racks and a tackle box in the back seat. Not to mention the only thing harder to fuck in than a tiny little sports car was a Jeep. They were a lot smaller in the inside than they looked and, even if you could manage to get your fuck on, canvas flaps weren't exactly conducive to privacy. Girls tended to not go for that sort of thing.

Again, not that it wasn't a decent first ride for a teenager; after all it wasn't like he couldn't afford a hotel room or that anybody would object if he decided to do it in his own bed (before Felicity moved in, that is). Until Felicity came to live with him he was pretty much free to do whatever the hell he wanted to. The only thing stopping him from turning Casa Merlyn into the Sodom and Gomorrah-esque beach house Brandon operated out of was Mrs. McGregor but, after she went home at the end of the day, he was on his own and could do whatever the hell he wanted to. Most 'regular' kids would be perfectly satisfied with just the Renegade and their dad's full line of Mercedes sedans and SUVs…until you compared it to what Ollie and Brandon rolled around in.

Ollie had three sports cars—three; a Porsche Carrera GT, a Maserati Spyder, and a Mercedes SLR McLaren—one of the few Mercedes types his dad didn't own, probably because it was actually cool, and just so happened to be his motherfucking Dream Car! In addition to life fucking him on that one, Ollie also had two motorcycles, a Ducati Matrix and an Aprilia RSV 1000 R, a tricked out H2 his dad got him for beach runs and, gone but not forgotten, a Ferrari Enzo he totaled after owning it for less than five days. He even got a sweet little four-seater single engine Cessna Corvalis 400TTX to play with after he got his pilot's license (the only test he'd ever studied for in his life as far as Tommy knew).

They both got their pilot's certifications at around the same time, although Tommy didn't get his own plane to go with it. Robert was an avid pilot, as was Malcolm, but unlike his own father, the other man had taken the time to teach both of them about airplane maintenance and had taken them up hundreds of times for quick runs along the coastline or whenever they went up north to Big Bear.

The first time Tommy ever took the stick was when Robert handed it off to him when he was six years old. Ollie's dad was also the one to teach him about sailing, taught him to drive a standard, and how to parallel park. Yeah, Robert Queen wasn't perfect; he slept around, had other vices like drinking, and didn't always make the best decisions, but he was more of a parent to Tommy than Malcolm had ever been.

Teaching him to fly though; that was something he'd always be grateful to him for. It was a handy skill to have, especially given how much they traveled, but it was the freedom it offered that he appreciated the most. He and Robert were alike in that sense; they were alike in a lot of ways actually.

Ollie hated sailing, got bored easily with fishing, was not enthusiastic about guns or hunting in general, detested swimming, and never liked horses or anything else that involved getting sweaty or dirty unless a girl was involved. Robert, on the other hand, was a true adventurer at heart. Underneath the disguise he wore of a successful businessman, he was a lost boy, a kid who longed to be a cowboy or run away with the circus. He was fun, unlike Malcolm who was anything but.

Robert was always happiest on his boat though. While Tommy was never a fan of boats he did like fishing, loved fishing, and he spent many an hour hanging out with Ollie and his dad on the Gambit with a beer in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Whereas Malcolm was happiest on the road and reeling in money, Robert hated being cooped up in a boardroom. He not-so secretly resented the suit and tie world he lived in throughout the week so, anytime he could escape into the sea or sky, he would. He felt more kinship with Robert because of that alone than he'd ever felt with Malcolm.

Sometimes when they would join him on the boat for a quick sail down the coast, he'd sneak away from Ollie to just sit with the older man and enjoy his company in silence. Robert would just look up at him, smile, then toss him a cold one before pointing to the other pole, only to pretend to bitch and moan whenever Tommy got a bite, swearing up and down he was cheating somehow.

"You're a natural born fisherman, son," Robert would say, "A goddamn magician with that pole just like your old man used to be at your age."

If he could trade dads with Ollie, he'd take a man like Robert Queen over his own father any day.

Of course, that said, Robert wasn't perfect. In addition to all the fun parts, he also had a dark side.

They were getting ready for their annual trip up north for the holidays and Ollie's folks had been unusually tense. Things between them were kind of strained, why he didn't know, but everyone in the house was feeling it. He asked Ollie what was going on and the other man replied, "Dad's screwing another secretary or something and Mom's pissed, but she'll get over it; she always does."

Robert's wandering eye wasn't exactly a secret, but it upset him nonetheless. Ollie pretended to take it in stride but Tommy wasn't quite as adept at masking his emotions as his friend was. Maybe because the thought of Robert being unfaithful clashed with his ideas about who he was or maybe it was because it burst that bubble of happiness and family he always associated with the Queen household. For whatever reason, he never really believed the rumors about Ollie's dad until then.

He saw the man flirt with pretty girls, saw them throw themselves at him or slip him their numbers when they were at the airfield or down at the yacht club but that was just harmless fun. He never actually *saw* him feel anyone up or sneak off into the broom closet for a quick piece of ass. Those 'rumors' were just stuff the housekeeping staff would whisper about or thinly veiled blind items in the tabloids, but he'd never seen any proof of the older man's infidelities with his own eyes until then. Until that day, he'd always felt like the Queen mansion was his second home but, for the first time in his memory, he'd felt like an intruder, like an alien lost in an unfamiliar world of bitter accusations and marital unrest. The one and only good thing he could say about Malcolm was that he loved Rebecca with everything he had. It was his one and only redeeming quality as a husband and a father, so to see Robert fail at something as basic as that cut deep.

He remembered breakfast that morning as being a cold affair filled with stilted conversation and frozen smiles. He'd been on edge the entire time as he watched Robert pick at his breakfast while listening to Moira pretend everything was normal. In truth though, you could cut the tension with a knife. It got so bad that he was on the verge of begging off the trip, faking a stomach flu or something and heading home. Even the idea of spending Christmas alone was preferable to spending two weeks trapped in a ski lodge with the Queen's at that point.

He remembered walking outside looking for Ollie, that very excuse on the tip of his tongue, and instead running into Robert. The older man was just standing there with a drink in his hand and staring over the lawns which, even in the middle of winter, were a lush and fertile green.

Being a billionaire meant you could buy pretty much anything, even eternal spring. At least on the surface anyway; it was still winter for the rest of the world.

He shot Tommy a look and, as if he could read his mind, he huffed a bitter laugh and held up his glass in a salute. Not even ten in the morning and he was on his second or third scotch. He said, "Never settle for a suit and tie life, Tommy Merlyn. Never live life in a box." He took a drink, the ice cubes clinking inside the rock glass before offering him another smirk, "You're like me, you know? You were made to live out there," he pointed out across the gardens towards the ocean, his glass still in hand, "in the sunshine with a pretty young girl on your arm, not slowly suffocating to death in a coffin of your own making." He downed the amber liquid before setting it down on the railing then turned to walk inside. He clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder on his way past and added, "Remember that, Tommy; the key to a good life isn't money, it isn't fame or success, it's escaping this…damn world full of boxes and sailing off into the sunset with a pretty girl who loves you."

The weirdness went away shortly after that. He was pretty sure it had something to do with Thea's close call after she fell off her horse a few months later. After that, Robert was back to being the easygoing guy everyone knew and loved and, from what Tommy could tell, he and Moira seemed better than ever.

In any case, defensive driving, piloting, and self-defense were just a matter of course when your dad was a billionaire. Even with teams of bodyguards and a security detail you had to know how to take care of yourself. The names Queen and Merlyn painted a pretty big target on your back so they were taught the basics of self-defense, how to fire a gun, and how to take the stick and operate the radio just in case the pilot was incapacitated or they needed to make a quick getaway. Neither of them were ninjas or anything, they couldn't give Rambo a run for his money, but both their dads insisted they be taught just enough basic self-defense to give themselves a better than even shot at getting out alive.

Well, Robert did. Malcolm? Who knew what he thought or even if he gave a shit.

In fact, Robert had promised Tommy he'd begin teaching him how to fly a chopper that summer, but that was before Felicity came down from Gotham. He doubted it going to happen now though.

Not because of her, of course; Robert wouldn't care if Felicity tagged along. The reason he wasn't going up in a chopper anytime soon was because of what Ollie did after he finally got the keys to the Cessna. On his first solo flight, instead of coming back like Tommy had after circling the coast, he flew down to Guadalajara in order to get out of taking his midterms. Robert had to pull some major juice just to keep the FAA off his ass for that one. To make matters worse, Ollie didn't even let him in on the plan so he could tag along.

No wonder he didn't argue with him about who got to go first, he thought with a hint of leftover resentment. However, at the time, Tommy was just too stoked about getting his final certification to notice. It also helped that the instructor was female, stacked, and not wearing a bra although he was pretty sure that was for Robert's benefit rather than theirs. Plus, it showed just how determined Ollie was; those things had to be in the double 'D' range and, even if Ollie was always more of an ass man, it was still pretty distracting.

They were natural, too. He could tell by the jiggle.

Needless to say, they'd both been grounded ever since but the little 400TTX was still pretty fucking cool. Tommy would've been happy with just a two-seater puddle jumper like a Sandpiper or something but if Malcolm wouldn't even let him have a base model Corvette, he sure as hell wasn't going to buy him a plane just so he could pull a John Denver into Orchid Bay or splatter himself on the side of a mountain.

Meanwhile Brandon had his dad's entire classic car collection to choose from plus his own two personal vehicles; the Jag, and his fully restored 1967 Jeepster. Between the two, if Brandon *had* to be the one acting as their chauffeur, and if he *had* to risk their lives on the other man's ability to keep all four tires on the ground, that's the vehicle he would have preferred to take for sure. However when he tried telling her that, Felicity reminded him that he promised her they would do what she wanted and what she wanted more than anything was to spend the day with the two of them while riding around in the little sports car because it was 'cute' and she liked the fact that it was her favorite color.

He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. Maybe he was being overprotective but, while the teal and white Jeepster Commando had plenty of scoot for what it was and could go wherever you wanted it to, the straight six "Go Devil" flat head with only 75 horse power under the hood wasn't exactly built for the kind of torque the Jag could put out. It *might* go 90 mph if you were willing to blow up the motor and it didn't even have a turbocharger. Another thing working in its favor was that it was Brandon's baby and he spoiled that thing rotten having rebuilt it himself.

If Robert Queen's rich man's hobbies included planes and boats, Mad Jack's was collecting cars (that and banging his secretary). Jack, when he wasn't busy being an asshole or getting people pregnant, taught Brandon everything he knew about them and gave him the Jeepster when he was thirteen with the promise that if he could get it up to spec, he'd buy him any car he wanted when he got his license. Even after Jack bailed on them to marry his very pregnant assistant, the now 'Not-So Virgin' Mary McNamara, he kept on that thing until it was done. Besides partying and surfing, it was probably the only thing the other man ever really cared about.

Brandon had totaled plenty of cars since getting his license, but the old surfer classic had yet to get so much as a door ding. He loved that thing so much he was once issued a ticket for going *under* the speed limit because he'd just gotten it repainted and was afraid of getting bug pecks in the clear coat. Meanwhile he was pretty sure the Jag wouldn't be 'cute' for much longer as it was living on borrowed time.

The thing about Brandon and his truck was, while being just as shallow and status conscious as any of them, he didn't drive it to show off; no, that was what the Jag, the Ferrari 612 Scaglietti he mowed his neighbor's lawn jockey down with, and the other cars he totaled were for. The Jeepster, on the other hand, reflected who he was underneath all the rest of the crap as evidenced by the loving care in which he treated it.

It was a neat little truck and got second and third looks from other gearheads, yeah, but it wasn't necessarily the kind of vehicle that would get a guy laid. It wasn't even as valuable a collectable as some of the other Jeep Commando models that came out that year. Most of the time when someone was looking for a 1967 Jeepster, they were looking for the wagon, not the convertible.

Not that it wasn't a neat little truck; it just wasn't all that popular except with hardcore Willys-Overland collectors. For one thing, it was something Willys came up with to compete with the International Scout and Ford Bronco that was a cross between a military vehicle and a convertible so, while the odd aesthetic worked, it was still more than a little bit utilitarian in comparison to some of the other models.

However, its value wasn't the reason Brandon loved it so much; it was because it was the only outlet he had for venting his frustrations with both his parents until discovering the joys of recreational pharmaceuticals. He might not be a fan of his father, but he did inherit Mad Jack's passion for the classics and for preserving their value by not altering them in any way, so the Jeepster looked exactly like it did when it rolled off the assembly line back in '67.

Of course, that meant there was no power steering, a stiff suspension which made for a rough ride, and no banging sound system; even the radio was a compromise since that was technically considered a 'special option' and didn't come standard on most of that year's production models. Oh, and it didn't even have AC, a point Felicity was very quick to mention.

His argument that it did have AC; a 560 AC meaning four windows, a ragtop, and 60mph down the highway, didn't exactly go far.

Another reason she wasn't exactly thrilled about spending her birthday riding around Brandon's truck was because, according to her, it smelled like feet sweat. She wasn't wrong, Tommy admitted reluctantly. Although he kept the exterior cleaner than most operating rooms, the interior was permeated with the sickly sweet scent of coco butter, board wax, old gym socks, and fish, further points that Felicity herself brought up as the capstone to her own argument along with the reminder that it was her day, her rules.

As usual she won so, even though Tommy would have preferred to go to breakfast in it rather than risk their lives on Brandon's ability to control the amount of lead in his right foot, he finally relented…but not until after threatened to beat the shit out of the other man if he so much as switched lanes without using his turn signal.

Felicity caught the look on Tommy's face and grinned, "Someday, when I get my license, I'm going to get a car just like that one. Or maybe not," she mused. "Whatever I do get though, it's definitely going to be red and go really, really fast."

Yeah, keep thinking that, he thought to himself. If he had anything to say about it (and he would. She'd be living with him in Cambridge by then so he would be the one helping her pick out her first car. He'd also be the one responsible for teaching her how to drive because no way in hell would Malcolm be willing to fly out every weekend just for that), her first vehicle was going to be a tank with a regulator turned down to 35 mph. And that was if he was feeling generous.

He didn't say that out loud however because he didn't need to hear the whole 'double standard' speech again. Truth was, he was okay with being a hypocrite when it came to her safety as he already knew the argument she'd make; that he was planning on doing the exact same thing his dad did to him using the exact same logic. The difference was he was planning on doing it because he actually gave a crap about her and not because he was simply an asshole who thought handing out rules, ultimatums, and unenforceable threats via long distance counted as 'hand's on parenting'.

He could've said that but, instead, he faked a smile and said, "Only three more years to go, Sunshine. Speaking of landmark birthdays, turning thirteen is kind of a big deal. Are you sure…?"

"I'm sure! Stop asking already," she huffed. "We just had a party last week and, as fun as that was—minus Ollie's relationship drama," she said rolling her eyes as she smoothed back her windblown curls, "I wanted to do something different this time. Besides, the only people I know are you guys and McKenna; who else would I invite?"

He furrowed his brow at that, "Sara maybe? Or Thea?"

Felicity's mouth pulled down in a frown, "I met Thea once and she's even harder to understand than Mrs. Mack because she doesn't have any teeth. Plus, how is she going to eat cake? By gumming it like one of those teething biscuits they give babies?"

"She has teeth!" Tommy scoffed, "Just…not as many as she's supposed to have at the moment."

"Plus, she's, what; five? Six?" Felicity said flatly. "You want me to invite a baby to my birthday party? Seriously? So I can do what? Enjoy turning thirteen by babysitting?" She snorted, "I already have enough on my hands with you guys!"

"Hey!" He objected.

"She's got a point though, bro," Brandon said as he opened the door. "We are a handful."

Tommy eyed the other man resentfully, "Speak for yourself. What about Sara then?" He asked as they all slipped inside of the restaurant, "She's cool, funny, smart, and only a couple of years older than you are."

"Yeah, I think McKenna said she might be coming by with her this morning," Brandon added. "If you wanted to, we could invite her to spend the day with us as long as they don't mind piling up in the back seat or following us in McKenna's car."

"Or we could just go back to my place and get one of the SUVs out of the garage," Tommy suggested hopefully. "Better yet, we could hire a car service; maybe get a stretch so we could all hang out in the back? Do it up in style?"

"No."

She knew him all too well.

"We could invite her along, I guess; Sara seemed nice and McKenna likes her so I wouldn't mind if she wanted to hang out," Felicity agreed, ignoring Tommy's glower as she followed them in. "As for the party thing, I just figured that it would be more fun if we went out and did stuff rather than just sit at home all day and, besides, Malcolm's coming back tomorrow, right? He'll probably want to do something special to make up for missing both our birthdays but today it can just be about us."

"Uh huh," Tommy said in a neutral tone. In his experience, Malcolm's promises didn't count for much. Usually when he said he was cutting a trip short to come home to 'be with his family' for some sort of holiday or special occasion, something always came up and he really wasn't looking forward to dealing with the fallout this time. He was used to his dad shitting all over him, but Felicity wasn't. She still thought he hung the moon and stars so he had a sinking feeling that she was going to be shattered when his dad inevitably pulled a no show.

Which Malcolm would because he always does, he added silently.

In truth, he was surprised Malcolm even bothered to keep up the pretense of fatherhood anymore. Then again, he did call to check in a few times since leaving town, a new record for him. First he called to 'apologize' for blowing up at him on his birthday after accusing him of hurting Felicity's feelings, then he called again the following day to let him know he'd had some sort of 'wake-up call' and that this was the last trip he'd be taking for a while. According to him, he was staying just long enough to tie up a few loose ends in the overseas offices and then he'd be home permanently this time; no more trips that last weeks or months at a time, and no more holidays spent apart. He swore he would cut back on work and be the 50's sitcom father he should have been years ago.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Tommy just said 'yeah, whatever' and hung up. After that, whenever his dad tried ringing him back he just let it go to voicemail. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd heard that speech, it was just the first time he'd heard it in a while. The last time Malcolm made that speech was when he was ten. He and Ollie decided to recreate the Wright Brother's experiments after learning about them in school and had strapped some kites to their arms with string and duct tape before jumping off the roof of the Queen's maintenance shed in the east garden.

It had not gone well.

Ollie came out of it with some painful cuts and scratches, along with a small scar on his eyebrow that was barely visible unless he pointed it out to people due to the three stitches he earned after doing a face plant in a rosebush. Tommy, however, hit the ground hard. He wound up breaking his leg in two places and Malcolm had to rush home because he needed surgery to reset the bones. Less than two weeks later, he was back on the road leaving Tommy stuck at home with Mrs. Mack wearing a plaster cast that smelled like wet dog and itched like a motherfucker. Meanwhile, Ollie was left with a cool scar that he used to pick up chicks by telling them lies ranging from him being knocked over the head in a bar fight while protecting a girl from getting roofied, to almost being kidnapped by international terrorists.

Of course, the Malcolm he knew wasn't the one Felicity did. Maybe it was because she was a girl and she reminded him of his mom when she was younger, or maybe it was just because she was still naive enough to buy into his bullshit and actually give a crap about him. Whatever it was, he was honestly caught off guard when Malcolm called earlier that morning to wish her a happy birthday then proceeded to ruin his whole fucking weekend by promising her he would be home on Sunday to celebrate.

That was his fault, he thought with a sigh. He should've taken the phone off the hook or told Felicity to let it go to voicemail, but before he could answer it, she picked up instead. Malcolm, probably anticipating that Tommy was going to hang up on him if he didn't just say what he called to say, immediately started in with the hearts and promises crap that never went anywhere in order to soothe his own conscience while building brownie points with the only person who still liked having him around.

After they hung up, he and Brandon sat down and agreed that if (when) he didn't show up, or whenever he inevitably called to offer some bullshit excuse as to why money or exploring his grief in some stupid fucking ashram in Tibet were more important to him than his family, they'd surprise Felicity with a drive down to the cabin his Grandpa Bob left him.

Tommy tried to get down there a few times a year with the guys but Felicity had never been and he'd been meaning to come up with an excuse to take her up there anyway. It wasn't a 'rustic' vacation mansion like Ollie's parents owned, but it wasn't an old one-room fishing shack either. It was a nice sized two story log cabin built on a private lake near Big Bear. And by built 'on' the lake, he meant 'on' the lake. Grandpa Bob was an architect and he designed the cabin so it butted up to the water's edge with a large back porch suspended over the lake like a floating boat dock. He built it that way so they could literally walk out the back door onto the porch and cast their lines into the water. He even built a patio area/barbecue pit where they could clean and cook their catch without ever having to step foot in the house thereby pissing off his grandmother by messing up the kitchen. Add a satellite dish and a big screen and it was every man's version of paradise.

He loved that house, and not just because it belonged to him and not his dad. He loved it because of the memories associated with it.

His grandparents had intended to sell their house in New York and retire there in order to be closer to him and his mom but, unfortunately, that never happened. Six months before his mother's death they were killed when the driver of a semi fell asleep behind the wheel and wandered into their lane. He was barely eight years old and lost his entire family all in the same year, Malcolm included.

He often wondered if they'd lived if his father would've sent him to stay with them instead of leaving him all on his own. And, if so, would he have been sent to live in New York or would they have retired early in order to take care of him fulltime making that house his home? How would growing up somewhere other than Starling City have changed the direction of his life?

On one hand, he would've been a much less lonely kid, but on the other hand he wouldn't have grown up with Ollie as his best friend or ever have gotten the opportunity to know Felicity as he was fairly certain that Malcolm never would've come back for him if there'd been another option. Or maybe he would have foisted her off on them too, or he might have sent them both to the same school and they would've gotten to know each other that way?

Eh, that was a longshot though, he admitted silently. While he was okay with the possibility of losing his dad (mostly since he'd never really gotten him back in the first place), he was glad he had the chance to stay close to Ollie and to have Felicity in his life. Still, as he grew older, he'd come to savor the time he spent there as it called to mind faint memories of his mother and of a family who loved him.

Now that he had Felicity in his life, he wanted to share that with her. She'd never get to know his mom or grandparents, but that didn't mean she wasn't just as much a part of his family as they were. The two of them would make new memories together there. He'd teach her to fish, ride a horse; maybe take her hiking down some of the easier trails. He wanted her to see the parts of him that very few people ever saw and the cabin was a big part of that. There was no Malcolm there, no tragic history attached to it. Bittersweet memories, yes, but also joy. He figured they could invite Ollie, McKenna, too, if her folks were okay with it, go out on the town a little, then maybe have a cook out that way Felicity wouldn't be too disappointed by the fact that, once again, Malcolm bailed on them.

Today wasn't about revisiting old resentments though, that could wait until tomorrow. Today was Felicity's day so she called all the shots and the first thing she wanted to do was have a big birthday breakfast at The House of Pancakes and neither of them were about to argue with that.

The three of them made their way towards the back before settling in at Tommy's favorite corner booth under the large framed and signed poster of the Breakfast Club cast at The House of Pancakes. It was the biggest booth in the place and offered the most privacy. The House of Pancakes was a hidden gem among the more affluent parts of Clarendon Hills and Orchid Bay. It wasn't your average IHOP or Waffle House and was regularly frequented by both Starling City locals and vacationing celebrities who wanted to be able to enjoy a meal with their friends and families like normal people without having to worry about the Paparazzi snapping flashbulbs in their faces.

The restaurant itself had been there since the late 50's and the walls were covered in signed photos and movie posters of the actors who frequented the place; everyone from Sinatra and the Rat Pack to modern stars (but no reality TV 'stars' as Big Earl, son of Dino, the original owner, didn't much care for celebrities that were only famous for being famous).

He was fairly certain that if Paris Hilton ever showed up for a tall stack (if she ate carbs, that is), Big Earl would plant his big boot in her narrow ass and direct her to the closest In 'n' Out Burger with the rest of the reality trash.

As Brandon was fond of saying, 'Big Earl don't play'.

Beside the signed Breakfast Club poster were framed pictures of various members of the original cast along with John Hughes himself posing with the owner and wait staff. Next to those, opposite to the poster, was a picture of David Bowie and his family enjoying a complimentary tall stack along with a famous quote of his that said, 'And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through.'

It was a quote that was used in the film which is why it was placed next to the movie poster, but Tommy just liked it because it pretty much summed up what he was feeling most of the time in regards to his own absentee father. To him, it wasn't just a pointed remark to those who chose to label people rather than see them as individuals, but a reminder to parents that they needed to be there for their kids early on when their presence actually meant something; that the children they treated as if they were invisible now had long memories and eventually those same kids would outgrow the adults who walked out on them, finding themselves abandoned instead.

He didn't know if he ever wanted kids, or get married, or any of that other stuff, but if he ever did have kids, he would there every step of the way. He'd make them a priority, and he sure as hell would do more than just check in via email every couple of months or so. And, if he couldn't be there or didn't want to be, then he just wouldn't have kids; he'd get a vasectomy or something before that happened. Too many people in their world used their children as photo opportunities or fashion accessories; he wasn't going to add his own kids to their numbers. He didn't want to be that guy and he sure as hell wouldn't wind up married some cool to the touch society mom like Moira Queen or a former debutante turned pill popper like Stephanie McNamara.

Okay, so maybe Moira wasn't as bad as Brandon's coked up mom. She genuinely loved Thea and Ollie, but she was definitely not a 'hand's on' parent. She was the kind of mom who hired nannies to do all the dirty work then trotted their kids out for guests when they were scrubbed clean and dressed in designer onesies.

The point is he wouldn't stop loving his kids after they stopped being cute. He wouldn't cast them off like a Christmas puppy turned death row inmate at the pound by Easter. He wouldn't replace love with stern disapproval or replace structure and discipline with material objects. He didn't know what the future held for him; if he had another Dream Girl waiting for him in the wings, if he'd ever have a family of his very own. All he knew was that he wasn't going to going to make the same mistakes Malcolm did, that's for sure.

Even though his thoughts were as dark as his mood, he tried to keep up the pretense of a smile as he slid into the booth beside Felicity. Brandon, before his butt even hit the seat, eagerly snatched one of the laminated menus out of the basket, while Felicity's eyes gravitated towards the huge fifties style neon lighted juke box in the corner. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, he beat her to the finish line, "Yes, but after we order and no Britney, no Jessica Simpson, and—"

"No OutKast," Brandon broke in. "I am so sick of that 'Hey Ya' song it's not even funny. Oh, Puff Daddy or Snoop Dogg are both okay as long as it's not 'Drop it Like it's Hot' because that got really old, really fast."

"Wait, but why can't-?" Felicity began, her eyebrows drawing together in consternation.

"I doubt they play Puffy or Snoop at the House of Pancakes," Tommy said wryly.

"They might, you never know," the other man said off-handedly as he perused the menu, "Hoobastank's cool, too."

Felicity scowled as she looked between them, "But-!"

"Hoobastank?" Tommy sneered, cutting off Felicity once more. "Those dudes have one, *maybe* two good songs, and that's it!"

The other man pulled a face before hitching his head slightly in agreement, "Fine, what about Kanye then?"

"But-?" Felicity started again.

Tommy shook his head, "Again, House of Pancakes, dude. It's gonna be all family friendly and straight off the pop charts. They still have Sinatra and Jodi Mitchell on that thing. The closest thing to edgy you'll find is the Stones and, even then, we're talking 'Wild Horses' only. I doubt they'd risk putting anything cool like 'Sympathy for the Devil' or 'Paint it Black' on the playlist." He made a dismissive gesture and shook his head, "You know, on the off-chance some fundamentalists roll into the parking lot in a church bus or something."

"Yeah, that would be bad for business," the other man agreed. "After all, Christians do like their pancake breakfasts."

"And they hate good rock and roll," he said roundly.

"Now I want to play AC/DC or some Sabbath up in this joint," Brandon mused.

"Good luck, brother, because that's never gonna happen," Tommy said with a chuckle, "Might as well wish for the Clash or the Sex Pistols while you're at it. Top Forty and Classic Rock only; Beach Boys, Sonny and Cher, maybe some pre-Yoko Beatles."

"Say what you will about Yoko, but that woman completely did John a favor when she sent McCartney off to Wings and kicked Ringo to the curb so he could play dinosaurs with that chick in the fur bikini from the Dukes of Hazard."

"I loved that show," Tommy said appreciatively, "I also loved that bikini."

"I love Daisy Dukes," Brandon tossed back. "That contribution to the American fashion industry alone deserves a place in the annals of history." He paused and snickered, "Annals."

"Dude," Tommy said in warning.

"What?" he asked feigning innocence, "It's a real word! I was thinking about it for the Scrabble rematch. Tell 'im, Felicity!"

"It's a real word," the younger girl huffed in irritation, "Okay, look, it's my birthday and I should get to-!"

"Told ya!" Brandon harrumphed. "And it's not even dirty either, just sounds that way."

"Just shut up and come up with a decent band," Tommy ordered.

Felicity's cheeks reddened as she slapped the table top in irritation, "I should get to-!"

"Dido?" Brandon asked reluctantly, cutting her off again.

Tommy looked up from his own menu to offer him a look of utter disgust, "Dido? Seriously?"

"I don't know, man; she was okay on that Eminem song but I don't listen to a lot of pop," he shrugged. "Black Eyed Peas?"

"Can I say something?" Felicity practically growled.

"No need," he assured her. "I can live with the Black Eyed Peas. That new one that came out, uh what's it called?" He squinted slightly, "'Let's Get It Started' is okay. You can play that one along with pretty much anything from the 80's. That's it though; no slipping in any boy bands or Spice Girls or I'm taking my quarters back."

Felicity closed her eyes with a pained expression, "What?"

"Wait, does Fall Out Boy count as a boy band because I actually like them?" The other man asked curiously.

Tommy weighed that for a moment, "I think the emo-punk thing cancels out the pop so I'm gonna go with 'no'."

"I can deal with that; add Fall Out Boy to the list. I'm also good with the 80's thing," Brandon agreed, "I mean, I prefer club mix or rap, maybe some Marley when I'm feeling mellow, however I must admit I do have a certain fondness for hair bands. In my not so humble opinion, 'Every Rose Has its Thorn' should be sung at the Superbowl right after the National Anthem."

"Goddamn right," Tommy agreed slapping the table in emphasis, "Yes! I defy any man not to shed a tear whenever that song comes on; it's right up there with 'Cherry Pie'. Total strip club classic!"

"Strip club?" The younger girl repeated faintly.

"Agreed, but," he said to Felicity warningly, "no Cyndi Lauper unless it's 'Time After Time'. Those little whoops she makes on 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' give me a headache after a while."

Felicity's mouth fell open, "Cyndi…?"

"Yeah, and that thing has been every preteen girl's anthem for the last twenty years," Tommy grumbled. "Whenever that thing comes on every girl and their mom line up to make sure it stays on repeat for the rest of the friggin' day."

"That and the Spice Girls with that 'Do you wanna be my lover' song or 'Wannabe'-whatever the hell it's called," the other man said shaking his head with a grimace. "For the record, the answer to that question is a resounding 'no'…unless it's the cute little redhead with the pigtails; she's hot. Maybe I could see doing the angry looking brunette, too—what's her name? Posh?" He mused. "The one that never smiles but looks like she'd be into some really freaky shit once you got her started. She's okay, I guess, but the Sporty and Scary ones look like they'd bite your di-."

"Watch it," Tommy warned him.

"Sorry," he said turning to Felicity. "Still, the Scary black chick, while hot, looks like she'd live up to her name and the Sporty one reminds me of our old PE teacher back in elementary school."

"Ms. Gruber," Tommy hummed. "Ah God, I hated her; she used to terrify the crap out of me."

"Me, too, dude," he agreed. "Did you ever notice that whenever she'd bring out the dodge ball she always went right for the nuts?" He chuckled darkly, "I mean, I wasn't using them yet, but I knew I wanted to at least have the option someday." He shook his head and continued to peruse the menu, "Somebody with a dick must've pissed that woman off big time because she was out for blood."

Felicity rolled her eyes in frustration, "Fine, but-!"

"Hey, remember when you came up with the bright idea to start wearing a cup to PE and you wound up having to get stitches because you shoved a coffee mug down your pants?" Tommy snickered.

"But—wait, you put what down your pants?" Felicity asked, doing a double take.

"I didn't know what 'cup' meant," Brandon shrugged. "I just grabbed whatever I could find in the teacher's lounge and went with it."

"How many stitches was it again?" Tommy asked, still snickering.

"Eight," he said with a pained look, "But it was worth it because she wound up having to transfer to an all-girls school because of her bad aim."

"Listen, this is all very fascinating, but if it's my birthday and I'm the one going to the juke box, then shouldn't I be allowed to pick the music?" Felicity asked with a scowl as soon as she was able to get a word in edgewise.

"No," both men said together.

"That's not fair!"

"You get to pick the places we go, the activities, you can even have a say in the food, but music is off the table," Tommy said firmly. "I don't want to have my breakfast ruined by listening to Britney Spears wail out that 'Hit Me Baby One More Time' garbage."

"I friggin' hate that song," Brandon grumbled. "I mean, I'd totally hit that, but not while she's singing."

"That's bullcrap!" She told them.

"Is she allowed to say 'bullcrap'?" Brandon asked looking up with a frown.

"Don't say bullcrap," Tommy chided absently as he went through the menu. "How do you want your eggs?"

"You can't tell me not to say 'bullcrap'," she said stubbornly. "Bullcrap isn't a curse word and, besides, you both curse all the time."

Tommy looked at her, one eyebrow raised, "Yeah, but we're allowed to because we're adults and you aren't."

Felicity gave an unlady-like snort at that, "Now that's bullcrap!"

"I'm seventeen, you're only thirteen," he pointed out with a scowl.

"You've been seventeen for a week and I may be only thirteen but I'm still way more mature than you are—both of you!" she said stubbornly. "Besides, we're bros and bros are equals so you're not the boss of me, remember?"

"She's got you there, dude," Brandon said with a shrug as he continued to flip absently through the menu.

"She just said she's more mature that you," he threw back.

"And I am fully willing to concede to that," Brandon said easily, "Especially since she makes me tasty eats whenever Mrs. Mack heads home at the end of the day."

"Traitor," he grumbled. "You have no sense of pride whatsoever, do you?" he challenged.

He looked up from behind his menu, "Dude, she made me red velvet cupcakes the other day just because I said I liked them; it's called not biting the hand that feeds me. And, some unsolicited advice here since you helped me put away a good half-dozen of those things; while I agree that you do have superior taste in music, I suggest you pick your battles carefully and let this one go."

Those really were some pretty tasty cupcakes…

"Fine, I'm not the boss of you," he grumbled. "Say 'bullcrap' all you want, now how do you want your eggs?"

"Poached?" she mused, her lips pursed into a duck-face. "No. Scrambled?" She paused at that, mulling it over. "No. Ome-let…?" Felicity said slowly, drawing out the syllables as she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"Here," Tommy sighed in exasperation as he handed her a menu.

"Thanks," she said happily, her foul mood lifting instantly as she took the menu from him and began to hum happily under her breath, her legs swinging back and forth under the table. "Oh my god," she said, her eyes going wide as she read, "It's like Breakfast-Palooza!"

"Duh," Brandon said, "What? You've never been here before?"

She shook her head.

"Really?" Tommy asked in surprise, "Malcolm never took you here?"

She bit her bottom lip and shrugged, "No, Mrs. Mack usually just made breakfast for both of us."

He looked at her in confusion, "If Malcolm never took you here, then how did you know they would sing 'Happy Birthday' if we asked?"

"Because it's a restaurant and all restaurants do that," she said slowly.

He had to give her that one.

Brandon lowered his menu with a look of outrage, "Okay, I always knew your dad was a dick but to deny someone the gift that is House of Pancakes…" He shook his head in disgust, "Dude, that deserves its own special level of hell right there, I'm tellin' ya."

"By the way, why do you guys call it 'House of Pancakes' when the sign outside says, 'Dino's'?" She asked them.

"It doesn't say Dino's," Tommy argued.

"Uh, yes it does," she said roundly. "I can read, remember? It's got those big oval 60's style light up letters that says 'Dino's' right outside the window," she said, pointing it out.

"No," he drawled, "it says 'Dino's House of Pancakes'."

Her eyebrows drew together at that, "Yeah, so?"

"So if you tell someone you're going to Dino's it could mean anything, but if you tell them you're going to the House of Pancakes they know exactly what it is you're talking about," he told her.

She looked at him for a moment before shrugging, "Okay, that makes sense."

"This one is strong with the Force," Brandon intoned.

"May the Waffles be With You," Tommy agreed.

"And they accuse me of being a nerd," Felicity muttered.

"Seriously bro, not taking someone to House of Pancakes at least once has to be some form of child abuse," Brandon said, still shaking his head in disapproval. "If I had a kid, we'd live in this joint. Hell, this is where I'm having my wedding reception and, instead of a wedding cake, we're having a monster sized stack of waffles."

"Not pancakes?" Tommy asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Waffles are a little more elegant and, if I ever do get hitched, my girl will be all about class," he answered blithely.

"Besides, you have to learn to compromise," Felicity agreed. "Dr. Phil says that's the secret to a healthy relationship."

"Well, Dad doesn't much care for eating at places that use paper napkins and laminated placemats," Tommy said reluctantly. "Okay, so do you know what you want?"

"There's so much," she said, her brow furrowed. "What's a Dutch Pancake ala Mode."

"Aw, that shit is awesome," Brandon groaned. "It's this baked pancake they serve in a skillet, see, and it's all curled up at the edges like a bowl so you can order it with fruit, then they top it with, like, cream cheese or ricotta cheese so it tastes like a cheesecake, then add more fruit, whipped cream, and ask them to drizzle caramel, chocolate, or fruit sauce on top." He gave them both a look of pure awe, "The first time they brought that to me, I kissed the waitress on the lips and left her a $100 tip. It didn't even matter that she was like sixty; I would have married her if she told me she made it herself, swear to God."

"Wow," Felicity breathed. "So what's the," she glanced down at the menu again, "Reggie Deluxe?"

"I'm ordering five of those things," Brandon told her firmly. "So cop this," he raised his hands as if framing the scene, "It's this massive buttermilk biscuit, like this big," he picked up the saucer under his empty coffee cup and showed her, "with a gigantic hunk of fried chicken topped with bacon, then smothered in this awesome sausage gravy, a slice of cheese, and an over-easy egg. You break the yolk and it mixes with the gravy—" He tilted his head back, looking emotionally overwhelmed for a moment, "I'm telling you, you have to order another two biscuits just to sop up all the gravy after. It's beautiful."

"I might order a couple of those myself," Tommy nodded as he continued to flip through the menu.

"What's the Pipes Breakfast Burrito then?" she asked wide-eyed.

Brandon's lips tightened and he gestured helplessly towards her, "She—she's never had a Pipe's Burrito, man?" he asked Tommy, getting choked up. "That's like a California surfer classic."

"He gets very emotional about breakfast," Tommy said rolling his eyes slightly, "Especially when it's combined with surfing."

"Okay, pay attention," he told her with an intense look, "So it's this huge, like mondo gargantuan burrito, filled with scrambled eggs, sausage, avocado, three or four different kinds of cheese, and topped with this homemade picante sauce that is," he let out a slow, shuddering breath, "It's like proof that God exists, seriously. Plus they'll add cheese on top, jalapenos, bacon, guac; anything you want!"

"Wow," she said wide-eyed. "Hey, this says they have breakfast nachos. I didn't even know there was such a thing as breakfast nachos."

Brandon brought his hands up, fists clenched and teeth bared in an expression of pure wrath, "I can't—I can't-! Okay, that's it! We're ordering the whole menu!"

"We're not ordering the whole menu," Tommy returned dryly.

"We have to!" Brandon exclaimed passionately while pointing to Felicity, "This poor child has been woefully neglected and it's up to us to correct this serious miscarriage of justice!"

"What is he on about now?" McKenna asked as she strolled up to them along with Sara. "Happy Birthday, kiddo," she said sliding into the booth and leaning over Tommy like he wasn't even there before giving Felicity a quick hug.

"Do you mind?" Tommy asked pointedly.

"Since when do you complain about having a girl in your lap, Merlyn?" she smirked before settling into her seat.

At that Tommy just shifted slightly and kept his mouth shut.

"Happy Birthday, Felicity," Sara said as she slipped in beside Brandon. "Hope you don't mind me tagging along."

"No, it's great!" Felicity grinned. "Are you guys staying the whole day with us, because we're going to do Putt-Putt next."

"We are?" Tommy asked, looking up with a disgruntled expression.

"Yes, we are," she said firmly, "And then we're going to the Aquarium."

"I love the Aquarium," Sara said happily. "I love the whale exhibit the best."

"Me, too!" Felicity chirped.

"Great, we get to spend the day watching fish swim," Tommy murmured. "That and golf."

"Aren't you Scottish?" McKenna asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought all Scottish people did was play golf, pinch pennies, and wear berets with fuzzy balls on top."

"That and kilts," Sara added.

"Again with the fuzzy balls," Brandon grinned, "'Cause, you know, Scottish people dig goin' commando Braveheart style."

"You know, not all Scottish people golf or wear kilts," Tommy complained. "And the 'pinching pennies' thing was a low blow. Not all of us are cheap, that's a little racist don't you think?"

"Racist?" the other girl repeated dubiously, "Against who?"

"Yeah, you know, racist against rich white Scottish dudes who are cheap, wear skirts, and golf a lot." He blinked and turned to Brandon, "That's a thing, right?"

"Dude, I'm already back to thinking about my food," the other man shrugged.

McKenna rolled her eyes at them, "Anyway the Aquarium and Putt-Putt sounds like fun, that and the zoo maybe. I hear they just had some baby leopards born there a couple of weeks ago."

"Yes, to the baby kitties!" Sara said squirming in her seat as she flipped through the menu. "And I want to go to the Aviary, too. I love birds."

"Awesome, yeah; we should totally go to the zoo," Felicity nodded, "Ooh, and then we can go to the Science Museum, and then—"

"Slow down, Sunshine, we don't have to do everything all in one day," Tommy broke in. "Anything we don't get to today we can see tomorrow or save for next week."

"We can? So does that mean it's my birthday for a whole week?" she asked lighting up with pure joy.

"It can be your birthday until we get everything done, how's that?" he asked, his lips twitching upwards.

After all, if Malcolm was going to ruin her birthday weekend, the least he could do is extend the parts that didn't suck a little. In fact, that would work out just fine. There were a lot of places to hang out in Big Bear even during the summer months and it wasn't like they had anywhere else to be, right? They could go on a Zipline Tour, maybe rent a jet ski or a kayak, check out Big Bear Offroad Adventure and rent a couple of ATV's; yeah, why not spend the whole week up there? Maybe even a couple of weeks.

In fact, if she wanted to, they didn't have to come back at all until school started. They could take separate vehicles so the people who just wanted to stay the weekend could head home while he and Felicity stayed up there. Malcolm would probably never even notice they were gone. The whole summer could be one huge holiday. There was the Music in the Mountains Festival, the big 4th of July Fireworks; tons of activities all the way through the beginning of August for the big annual classic car show, and ending a couple of weeks later with the Renaissance Faire. He usually only got to go to one or the other but this year they could stay for the whole thing! Plus they had a huge farmer's market every Tuesday and while shopping for organic vegetables didn't particularly interest him, Felicity loved that crap so why not?

With that plan in mind, he grinned, "For now though, let's just order breakfast, okay?" He looked around the table, "By the way, when does school start back up?"

"Why?" Sara asked looking at him askance, "Since when do you care?"

"I'm just curious," he shrugged, "Near September, right?"

"More like mid to late August," McKenna told him.

Tommy's face fell at that, "Oh." His eyebrows drew together, "Wait; mid-August?" he asked in confusion. "Didn't it start later than that last year? Because I could've sworn it was closer to September. I remember because the Santa Ana's were just beginning to pick up."

Brandon closed his eyes in appreciation, "Awesome waves that year, bro. I caught a sixteen footer and I swear I was inside that curl for an hour."

"They start it on a different date every year; why I have no idea," Sara said wryly. "Plus, they don't tell you when it starts again until a couple of weeks before term so it's like lulling you into this false sense of security." She looked around the table, "You know, like, 'Oh, summer vacation is forever,' and then—BOOM! School; like some evil scholastic Jack in the Box or something."

"Yeah, why can't they just do it at the same time every year?" Brandon griped, "Plus, why does it always have to happen just when the swells get righteous? Sucks."

While everyone else was commiserating about the demise of summer and debating the best time of year for monster curls (September through October when the Santa Ana and hurricane seasons both started up, he thought), he was mentally going through the events calendar up in Big Bear.

Oh well, maybe he'd go online and see if they could catch the Ren Faire on a weekend. Either that or see if they had any decent schools up there depending on how badly Felicity wanted to go.

That was a joke, but just barely.

"Everybody decided what they want yet?"

"No need," Brandon said staunchly, "I already told you we're ordering everything."

"We can't order everything," McKenna said automatically.

"I already told him that but he wouldn't listen to me," Tommy said with a grimace. "He thinks that because Felicity's never been here before that we should order one of everything."

"Maybe two of everything," Brandon grumbled, "Or more," he added.

"Wait, you've never been to The House of Pancakes before?" Sara asked with a frown. "How can you live in Starling and not eat at The House of Pancakes at least once? That's like saying you've never had a Big Belly Burger or gotten a Monte Cristo at the Glade's Diner."

"But I haven't ever had a Big Belly Burger and what's a Monte Cristo?" Felicity asked curiously.

"Okay, well, that's just child abuse right there," McKenna said flatly before swatting Tommy on the head and causing him to yelp in pain, "What the hell, Merlyn?"

"Exactly!" Brandon agreed, "I mean, it's the sort of thing they should hold telethons for."

"She's from Gotham!" he said rubbing the back of his head with a wince, "They don't have Triple B on the East Coast."

"What about a Monte Cristo then?" Sara challenged. "Who doesn't have Monte Cristo's? My dad was feeding me those things before I even had teeth. He used to say I gummed them like teething rings."

"Okay, now I'm with Brandon. We're ordering the whole menu," McKenna said putting hers back in the holder. "Plus we're having Big Belly for lunch, then ending the day at the Glades Diner for birthday cake and deep fried goodness."

"Don't you think that's a bit excessive?" Tommy asked wryly.

She grinned and batted her eyelashes sweetly, "Not if you're the one picking up the check, I don't."

"Besides, it's her birthday, dude," Brandon urged, pressing his case hard. "How often does a kid turn thirteen? Plus, she's Jewish; this can be our version of a Bat mitzvah only with pork products and no Jewish people…except Felicity. Not that Jewish people aren't allowed; they can come, too."

"A non-Jewish pork Bat mitzvah," Tommy said flatly.

He shrugged, "I mean, who says every Bat mitzvah has to be the same? It's like a new and improved kind of Bat mitzvah with bacon and a distinct lack of…well, everything Jewish except Felicity."

"My grandfather on my mom's side was Jewish," Sara offered.

The other man pointed to her happily, "There you go; instant Bat mitzvah!"

"You just want to eat pancakes until you puke," he snorted.

"Still her birthday, though," the other man said with a shrug. "My own gluttony when it comes to breakfast foods and pork related meat products has no bearing on that."

"Fine, I wonder if they have a tasting menu here," he grumbled before looking around at them. "You know this is going to be an incredible waste of food, right? Even with this many people there is like-" he gestured to the menu, "There have got to be a hundred items on the menu and that's not including all the different options and stuff. Plus, she can't have nuts so no one is allowed to order anything with pralines or peanut butter, got it?"

"Okay, so we won't order the *whole* menu," McKenna conceded.

"But I wanted the whole menu," Brandon said morosely, then paused, "You know, for Felicity because she's never been here before…only without the nuts like Tommy said because that would be bad."

"Right," McKenna said broadly. "How about we compromise," she offered. "We each pick out three things that way we can all share buffet style."

"Three?" Brandon moped, "But there are five of us so we should pick out five items each."

"Dude, do the math; that would be twenty-five plates of food," Tommy argued.

"Actually, it would be thirty-five plates of food," Sara corrected him. "And I'm hungry, but I'm not that hungry."

"Wait," Tommy's eyebrows drew together as he turned to Felicity, "Five times five is twenty-five, right?"

She eyed him dubiously, "Really?"

McKenna snorted, "Ollie and Laurel are coming. Eventually anyway," she added, "Sara and I came inside after watching them go at each other for fifteen minutes straight in the middle of the parking lot because we'd rather eat breakfast than watch them fight all day just so they can make up later."

"Ollie and Laurel wanted to come to my birthday breakfast?" Felicity asked in confusion.

"Apparently," Sara said with a scowl, "Don't worry though; as soon as Laurel gets over herself, they'll be joining us so that they can gift you with their presence." She sighed, her expression clearing a bit as she offered her a crooked smile, "Meanwhile, I got you a skateboard for your birthday; it's in the car. I didn't wrap it so I'm not really spoiling anything by telling you. I figured I'd give it to you after we eat."

"A skateboard?" she blinked in surprise.

"Yeah," the other girl nodded, "I built it myself. Do you know how to skateboard?" Felicity shook her head and the other girl's smile widened slightly, "That's okay; I'll teach you. I'll have you on a half-pipe before you know it. Also, I just put a base coat on the deck so we can go over some design ideas and customize it together. Tommy and McKenna said you're some kind of computer genius so maybe we could come up with some cool graphics and you could print them out so we could make our own stencils."

"Thanks," she said with a grin before her face stilled, her lips pressed together in displeasure, "Not that I'm not grateful for your sister and Ollie wanting to spend time with me today, but why would they want to come at all if all they were going to do is fight? Didn't they already do that at Tommy's birthday or is ruining other people's fun some kind of tradition here?"

Brandon and McKenna snickered at that while Tommy just scowled.

"I'm with Felicity," he said looking between the two girls, "I mean, I could maybe see Ollie coming but why would Laurel want to hang out with us after her big blow up at me last week?"

"I don't know, maybe she had more to say," McKenna snorted then at Tommy's glare shrugged and said, "I didn't invite them, Sara did."

"I didn't invite them," the other girl said firmly. "Laurel invited herself—as usual, and decided to drag Ollie along now that they're 'so in love'," she said with a sneer.

"You and Laurel don't get along with each other?" Felicity asked the older girl curiously.

"Don't ask," McKenna said ruefully.

"No, it's okay," Sara sighed, "We used to. In fact, we used to be pretty close until last summer."

Felicity's brow furrowed at that, "What happened?"

"She found out that I had a thing for Ollie and that we were talking about getting together so, to get back at me, she told my dad that I was planning on sneaking out." Her face darkened at that, "I wound up getting grounded for a month while she was allowed to do whatever she wanted which was to go to the party I was going to go to just so she could hook up with him instead."

"Laurel did that?" Tommy asked in surprise before reeling it back in, "But, um, to be fair you're a lot younger than Ollie so she was probably just concerned about you."

"I'm not that much younger than you guys; I'm fifteen," she huffed.

"I thought you were fourteen," Brandon frowned.

"Me, too," Tommy admitted reluctantly.

She glowered at them, "No, I'm three years younger than Laurel so last year I was fourteen. Not that it makes any difference!" she said with a scowl, "Laurel tried making that same argument after she saw how pissed I was but Ollie was only sixteen at the time. Yeah, I was underage but two years isn't that big of a deal."

"Wait, that's not right," Tommy paused. "If you and Laurel are three years apart then that would make her a year older than us." He turned to Felicity, "I am getting the math right, aren't I?"

"We are seriously going to have to start studying now before school starts in order for you have any shot at graduating much less getting into Harvard," the younger girl said shaking her head.

"Laurel got held back in the third grade because her appendix burst and it was kind of a big deal," Sara grumbled. "Anyway, the point is that I wanted to go out with him first. Laurel wasn't even all that interested in him until she found out about us and now she acts like they're soulmates or something."

"I'm sorry but, while that sucks for you, if your old man found out you were planning on messing around with Ollie, it would've been his ass," Brandon said flatly. "As in, in the clink with a prison daddy kind of thing and a sign around his neck that says 'Rape Me'. If he got caught hooking up with a fourteen year old *cop's daughter*…" he shook his head ruefully, "Sorry babe, but I'm sort of glad Laurel ratted you out. I've been there when Ollie's brain switches off and his blood supply heads downtown. Frankly, he should've known better than to even talk to you about hooking up; there's a reason us guys call girls your age 'jail bait'."

"I didn't say we were planning on doing anything," she argued. "We were just planning to meet up so we could talk a little."

"First off, Ollie doesn't just 'talk' to girls. He certainly doesn't just 'go out' with anybody either," Tommy told her, picking up the argument thread from Brandon. "And I thought you were all for Ollie and Laurel getting together? If you were so pissed at her then why were you talking about how they were going to get married someday and that Ollie would have to change his name to 'Mr. Laurel Lance'?"

"I didn't say that so they'd get together," she told him. "I let Laurel think I was going along with her 'make Ollie jealous' plan so I could watch her go down in flames. I was hoping he'd do like he's been doing and make her so miserable she'd eventually get the hint and move on," the younger girl said with a hard look. "Also, my birthday is in December so even if I'm technically 'jailbait' now, I won't be for much longer."

"Yeah, but Tommy has a point; you might be 'on the verge' so to speak, but Ollie was never good at waiting to unwrap his presents," Brandon said as he waved over their waitress.

"Damn, that was almost clever," McKenna said, her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline in surprise.

"Sobriety agrees with him," Tommy murmured.

"Tommy's right," Felicity said quietly. "He's been popping out zingers left and right for the last couple of days. Sometimes he says stuff that makes you wonder if you've somehow stepped into the Twilight Zone."

"Like what?" She asked.

"Like this morning when the news came on, instead of switching the channel to watch Spongebob like he usually does, he actually watched it and launched into a discussion on beach conservation and the environment," the younger girl said wide-eyed. "It made sense and everything. He even used the word 'stewardship' at one point."

"Brandon?" McKenna blinked, "The Brandon sitting across the table from us right now Brandon? That guy?"

Tommy hummed, "The minute the shakes stopped, his brain fired right up."

Seemingly oblivious to their discussion, as soon as their waitress approached the man in question got up to give her a hug and a kiss. "Gladys, you smell like love and deliciousness! Marry me."

"Put your fanny back in the chair, McNamara, and save the malarkey for girls your own age," the older woman said in a husky smoker's voice as she pulled a pencil from behind her ear and tapped on her notepad. "So do you kids know what you want yet?"

"Everything," Brandon told her, "Actually five of everything. Nope, sorry, forgot about Ollie and Laurel; make that seven of everything."

"You're gonna need a bigger table," Gladys said without batting an eyelash.

"We haven't decided yet," Tommy told her with a sigh. "It's Felicity's birthday and she's never been here before so we thought about ordering a few different things then sharing."

The waitress nodded before turning to Felicity, "Well, since you're the only new face in this group of hooligans, I'm going to assume you're the birthday girl they're talking about?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered politely.

"Well, at least one of you has some manners," the elderly woman said eyeing Brandon with feigned annoyance before turning back to her. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

"Thirteen."

"Really?" the older woman said in surprise. "You're a bit scrawny for thirteen so we'll just have to fatten you up a little won't we?" She looked around the table for a moment, "Tell you what; is this all of you? You said two more were coming?"

"Apparently," Tommy answered wryly.

She nodded, "As it just so happens, Big Earl is in the back working on some stuff for his next cook book while he redoes the Sunday brunch menu."

"Big Earl is here?" Brandon asked excitedly then turned to the others, "Big Earl is the owner and he has like a ton of cookbooks and stuff he sells in the gift shop next door. I have the whole set at home."

"Since when do you cook?" McKenna asked doing a double take.

"I don't," he told her. "I just buy them for the pictures." At their disbelieving looks, he shrugged, "What? You guys have never heard of food porn?"

"There is something seriously wrong with you," the older woman said shaking her head at him.

"But you love me anyway," Brandon said, smiling up to her flirtatiously.

"Keep thinking that, McNamara." Gladys sighed, "I swear, someone should have drowned you at birth. Anyway, if you kids are open to it, I could ask Big Earl to send out some of his test dishes for you guys to try so you can let him know what you think."

They all exchanged glances before Tommy spoke up, "That sounds great, but Felicity's got a serious food allergy so no nuts. Also she likes vegetables a lot so if he could send out a salad or something that'd be great. Not for me, mind you, but for her it would be great," he added under his breath.

"Noted," she said writing it down on her order pad, "Any other allergies or dietary restrictions, sweetheart? Milk, eggs, strawberries; anything?" she asked Felicity who shook her head, "Okay then, what do you want to drink?" Brandon opened his mouth to speak up and she stopped him, "An egg cream and a tropical mango coconut smoothie, got it."

"I eat here a lot," he told them as they threw him a look.

After they gave her their drink orders along with Ollie and Laurel's, Gladys moved away from their table but not before accidently on purpose bopping Brandon on the head with her notepad, to which he only grinned harder, "You know we'd be good together, Gladys. All you have to do is stop playing hard to get and it's just you, me, and a big tube of BenGay with your name written all over it." He wiggled his fingers at her, "Just show me where it hurts, baby, and these hands will rock your world."

"You're a sick, sick young man, you know that, right?" she said as she turned on her crepe soled shoes and headed off, albeit with a little extra swagger in her arthritic hips.

"Someday, Gladys! Someday!" he called after her, "Remember; nobody likes a tease!"

The elderly woman just gave him a narrow eyed look before moving onto the next table.

Brandon leaned out slightly as he watched her walk back towards the kitchen. "Yeah, she wants me," he nodded to himself before turning to the rest of them with a smirk, "Now that's what I call a cougar."

"You're so perverted," Sara said, wrinkling her nose at him in disgust. "She's old enough to be your grandma."

"Great-grandma," McKenna said with a shudder.

"Don't be ageist; older women need love, too," he shot back. "Besides, that just means we can hit our sexual peaks together then, afterwards, she can bring me smoothies in bed."

McKenna's mouth fell open in revulsion before turning to Tommy, "I can't believe you let this guy live under the same roof as you and Felicity."

His lips curled into a grimace, "Believe me when I say I'm beginning to rethink that myself."

Brandon, ignoring their byplay while looking like the cat who ate the canary, rubbed his hands together gleefully and grinned, "Oh man, I can't want to see what Big Earl's gonna come up with. That man is the maestro of bacon, I'm telling you."

"The maestro of bacon?" McKenna repeated, arching her eyebrow at him, "Since when do you even use words like 'maestro' in a sentence? You kept arguing 'quarpzed' was a word during Scrabble."

"Quarpzed?" Sara repeated with a look.

"Quarpzed," Brandon said straight-faced, "'The astronaut quarpzed in his flight suit,'" he said firmly. "It's a technical term; look it up. As for 'maestro', I've always used that word when it comes to Big Earl," he told her. "The man is a food savant. He came up with this bacon jalapeno chocolate milkshake for Cinco de Mayo last year," he closed his eyes and sighed dramatically. "It was so good I tried to muscle my way into the kitchen so I could kiss him right on the mouth. It was totally worth the ass kicking he threatened to give me afterwards, too, man."

"Do you go around kissing everybody who works here?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Pretty much," he admitted. "However, as I said before, I always make sure to tip well and I stopped using tongue after Gladys threatened to have me banned that one time."

McKenna gave him an appalled look, "That's just so wrong." She took a deep breath and held it, "Okay, change of subject—quick, before McNamara starts waxing poetic over varicose veins and support hose."

Felicity screwed her face up at that, "Ew."

"Now I think I've lost my appetite," Tommy muttered.

"Well, here's one: Laurel is going to be pissed when she finds out I didn't order her the Skinny Plate," Sara said with a satisfied grin.

"Why would anyone order that?" Tommy asked wrinkling his nose. The Skinny Plate was just this lump of fat-free (see flavor-free) cottage cheese served in a lettuce cup with some sliced up kiwi.

"Obviously because she and Ollie are dating," McKenna answered for her.

He blinked at that, "Huh?"

"Laurel doesn't want Ollie to think she's fat," Sara told him.

Brandon, Tommy, and Felicity all looked at her in confusion.

"But she's not fat," Tommy said slowly, "In fact, she's really, really skinny."

"It's just something Laurel does," Sara told them. "She'll order stuff like cottage cheese or a salad then say she's full after two bites so people will think she's all delicate and stuff then, later when she gets home, she stuffs her face with leftover chicken parm or scarfs down a whole bag of chips because she's starving."

Felicity tilted her head and looked at her in confusion, "Why doesn't she just eat her lunch with everybody else?"

"It's a teen girl thing," McKenna shrugged. "I think the logic is that if a guy sees you eat real food then he might think you actually do stuff like use the bathroom for more than just powdering your nose and giggling with your girlfriends about how hot they are."

"Well, I share a bathroom with her so, believe me, she doesn't just powder her nose in there," Sara said grumpily.

"I did not need to hear that," Tommy said with a pained expression.

"Everybody poops, Merlyn; suck it up," McKenna told him.

"Again; very poor choice of words," he told her.

"So if it's a teenage girl thing, does that mean you guys do it, too?" Felicity asked her.

Brandon frowned, "Like she said, everybody—" He paused, "Oh, you meant the not eating thing, never mind."

McKenna rolled her eyes before shaking her head, "No, what I should have said was it's a teenage white girl thing with Sara being the exception because she burns off a zillion calories a day from doing gymnastics and zipping around on that skateboard of hers all the time. Latina women like me pride ourselves on having big booties so we don't give a crap."

"So to speak," Brandon added.

"I…really didn't need to hear that either," Tommy said with another grimace.

"So does that mean when I start dating boys I can't eat anymore?" Felicity asked with a frown.

Tommy cut in before McKenna could answer for her, "No, because we agreed you're never dating."

"And I thought we agreed that expecting Felicity to never date was both chauvinistic and stupid," McKenna said flatly.

"Yeah, but I decided that I can live with that as long as it means I can sleep at night and don't have to threaten to break some kid's kneecaps," he shot back.

"You were right, he really is turning into a dad," Sara said with an amused look.

"If I can interject something here," Brandon spoke up.

"Oh please don't," McKenna said eyeing him critically.

Ignoring her he turned to Felicity, "I, for one, think big girls with curves are sexy so you should eat whatever you want and not worry about what anybody else thinks as long as you make healthy decisions and feel good about yourself."

"Me, too," Tommy agreed, "Don't worry about all that dieting crap because no guy wants to date a stick. Not that you're allowed to date," he added, "Ever."

McKenna looked between them suspiciously, "Really?"

"Absolutely," Tommy said firmly, "She's never allowed to date."

"No, you idiot," she snorted, "Didn't Felicity say something about you wanting to marry a supermodel someday?"

"Yeah, but not a really skinny one that doesn't eat anything but salad," he shrugged.

Felicity nodded, "Because if Tommy married someone who only eats salads then he might have to eat one, too."

"True," he agreed.

"Yeah, because supermodels are all plump and curvy and spend their days scarfing down pizza and cheeseburgers," she snorted.

"Also he really likes chili so she'd have to eat that, too, and learn to put up with the smell afterwards," Felicity told her.

Tommy threw her a dirty look, "Hey!"

"And chili. Also she'd have to be deaf and have no sense of smell because Felicity's right; you could fill a gas tank after a couple of bowls there, Merlyn," McKenna added causing Sara to snicker.

"Hey, better out than in!" he returned.

"I beg to differ, especially when your 'out' winds up 'in' my oxygen supply," she tossed back. "Now answer the question. And be honest!"

"Fine," he grumbled, "Okay, well, maybe not the kind of supermodel who does that runway crap and looks like a human clothes hanger, but I would totally date a Sport's Illustrated or Victoria's Secret model with boobs and a nice butt."

"That sounds like a realistic goal to have," she nodded slowly. "Keep hoping for that and let me know how it turns out for you."

"Again, son of a billionaire here," he said throwing up his hands. "Have you seen the kinds of women even ugly *millionaires* date? Between this face and Malcolm's bank account…"

"I love the way he said 'millionaires' just now," Sara told McKenna with a grin.

"Because, hey, how shitty are those people, right?" the other girl snorted before pulling a face, "Beh, *millionaires*!"

"How gauche!" Sara pronounced with an affected accent.

"Whatever," he said with a snort, "The point is that if an ugly guy with a few zeros in his bank account can have hot chicks falling at his feet then I, with my movie star good looks, wit, charm, and even more zeros in the bank, should be able to score a Victoria's Secret model."

"Do I really have to give you the 'supermodels only date musicians' speech again?" Felicity asked with a pitying look.

"I'm taking lessons," he said in a defensive tone.

"Supermodels only date who?" Ollie asked in amusement as he and Laurel sauntered up to the table. He had a slightly forced smile on his face with his hand wrapped firmly around Laurel, while she kept offering him a slightly ticked-off glare even as she extricated herself from his side to slide into the U-shaped booth beside McKenna forcing everyone to scoot two spots over. "Are you guys still on that? By the way, Happy Birthday," he said looking down at Felicity.

"Yes, Happy Birthday," Laurel said with a slightly stiff expression.

"Thanks," she told both of them.

"So are you guys still debating whether or not son of a billionaire beats musician?" Ollie grinned. "Come up with any answers yet because it might be nice to know just in case the opportunity ever arises," he joked before noticing the look in Laurel's eyes and clearing his throat nervously.

"It-!" He blew out a puff of air and shook his head, "You know what, dude; don't ask," Tommy told him as he held out his hand and leaned over the table for a manly fist bump, "Meanwhile, good to see you again, bro."

"Likewise," he said with a chin bob as he took a seat beside Sara and Brandon leaving Felicity in the middle, with him, McKenna, and Laurel at the end. "It's okay that we're here, right? I know this is Felicity's birthday breakfast and we weren't sure if we were invited…"

"It's cool with me," Tommy said off-handedly, noting the forced way the other man said 'we' before turning to Felicity, "You okay with it, Sunshine?"

She shrugged, "Sure, as long as no one starts screaming at each other or attempts to murder me with a brownie."

Sara snorted at that while Ollie rolled his eyes and Laurel flushed.

"It was an accident," Ollie told her. "I didn't know you were allergic to nuts."

She looked at him distrustfully, "Then why did you already have bubblegum flavored Benadryl in your jacket?"

The girls all stared at him while Brandon spoke up, "Bro, she has a point; why were you carrying around kid's Benadryl?"

He shifted uncomfortably, "I, um, like the taste?"

"Robotripping," Felicity hummed knowingly.

Tommy squinted down at her, "Where the hell did you hear about robotripping?"

"Health class," she told him. "Plus, yesterday Dr. Phil was talking about how a lot of teens are getting high on stuff they find in their medicine cabinets. They even have things called 'pharm parties' where they dump all kinds of drugs into a bowl and just randomly mix them up. We're talking pain meds, allergy pills, antibiotics, erectile dysfunction medication-"

"Don't talk about erectile dysfunction at the breakfast table," he told her with a scowl.

"—birth control pills," she continued, ignoring him. She looked between Laurel and Ollie, "By the way, I know you guys know this already, but speaking of mixing meds, you do know that antibiotics negate the effects of birth control pills, right?"

"What?" Laurel asked, obviously taken off-guard.

"Jesus," Tommy muttered, running his hand over his eyes in embarrassment as everyone else (with the exception of Ollie and Laurel) began to snicker.

"You know, just in case Ollie brings you to one of those parties or takes some Viagra or something," the younger girl said matter-of-factly.

"I don't use Viagra!" Ollie hissed.

"Never?" she asked hesitantly, "Because, according to Dr. Phil, a lot of otherwise healthy young men are experimenting with phosphodiesterase 5 inhibitors—that's the active ingredient in ED drugs, by the way—"

"How does she know this stuff?" Sara asked turning to McKenna.

The other girl shook her head, "The miracle that is Felicity, what can I say?"

"-which accounts for a marked increase of reported cases of priapism in men under twenty-five and could lead to scarring of the penile tissue and even gangrene which may lead to amputation of the penis," Felicity finished.

All three men at the table winced at that while Sara and McKenna began laughing so hard tears were running down their cheeks. Laurel's expression, on the other hand, kept flitting between confusion and outrage.

"Okay!" Tommy said, slapping his hand over her mouth to stop her from saying anything else, "No more talking about amputating penises for the rest of the day—or ever again for that matter!"

"Yeah, I second that," Brandon said with a shudder.

"And who the hell is this Dr. Phil guy and why is he telling this stuff to a little kid?" Ollie demanded, his face screwed up in disgust causing Laurel to close her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose with a pained expression.

"Oh God, Ollie; really?" she muttered.

"You were right," Sara said her shoulders shaking with laughter, "Felicity is cool as shit!"

"Oh my God," McKenna gasped as she gripped the table, "I think I'm gonna die!"

"Can I just say one more thing?" Felicity asked, her voice muffled slightly by Tommy's hand.

"No!" he told her.

She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling it down with surprising strength, "I was just going to say that if Ollie does decide to take a form of ED medication in the future—"

"Hey!" the other man scowled, gesturing towards her and glaring at Tommy, "Can't you stop this?"

"—he should cut the pill in half just to be safe," she finished before he could stop her.

"She's right," Brandon said reluctantly. "A whole pill can lead to too much of a good thing, if you know what I mean. Believe me, I speak from personal experience here."

The whole table went quiet at that and Tommy felt his jaw drop. "You've tried Viagra?" he sputtered.

"Dude, what haven't I tried?" he said off-handedly, "But, yeah. I went to a dude who offered me a combo of X and Viagra, called it 'Sextasy' and said it was the ultimate good time." He paused and shook his head, "It wasn't. It made me hallucinate about talking to my dead grandma while sporting a freakin' Sequoia in my shorts. Not good." His mouth pulled downwards, "That shit messed me up for a while. I couldn't even look Grammy's portrait in the eye for like a month afterwards."

"Dude," Ollie breathed, "That's just wrong."

"Jesus fuck," Tommy muttered, dropping his chin to his chest. "This was supposed to be a nice kid's birthday breakfast and—shit."

"Serotonin build-up can cause vivid hallucinations," Felicity agreed sagely. "At least that's what Dr. Phil says."

McKenna let out another bark of laughter at that and Tommy turned a jaundiced eye towards her, "Why are you laughing at that?"

"I'm trying not to," she said, sniffling and wiping the tears off her cheeks with a napkin, "I'm really not but she's just so damn-"

"Cute! And more than a little twisted only in a really adorable way," Sara said bursting out into laughter again as well.

"What she said," McKenna agreed, grinning toothily.

"Do you really think this is an appropriate discussion to be having in public?" Laurel asked stiffly, "Especially with a child present?"

"I know I don't," Ollie muttered.

"Since when do you care about what is and what isn't appropriate?" McKenna asked Ollie with twinkling eyes.

"Yeah," Sara said with a smirk, "Didn't my dad bust you last year for being naked in public while making out with some old lady's favorite garden gnome?"

"I wasn't making out with it, I was just holding it," he glowered at her, "And I really wish people would just drop it with the garden gnome thing already. They bring that up and make it seem like all I do is go around getting wasted so I can stalk people's lawn ornaments or something." He gestured towards Brandon, "McNamara here ran over a lawn jockey and a mail box and yet no one ever said 'boo' about that. Meanwhile, I wound up having to buy that old lady a whole village full of gnomes, a fountain, *and* a bird bath to make up for it, plus the judge made me spend half the summer over there mowing her lawn and weeding her stupid petunias, yet no one ever gives me credit for that part, do they?" Ollie argued. "But, since you asked, I care ever since I decided to turn over a new leaf and become more mature and responsible," he announced, his eyes locked on Laurel who sniffed derisively at that.

"Huh," Brandon said tipping his head back slightly as he eyed the other man.

Ollie gave him a sideways look, "What?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering about something," the other man said shaking his head slightly, his mouth pulled down at the corners as he flicked his gaze between the two newcomers.

"And what exactly would that be?" Ollie asked with a dangerous edge.

Brandon shrugged, "Well, *since you asked*, I was just wondering whether if this new more mature Ollie thing counted as a STD or pegging."

"What?" the other man burst out.

"You know, because you were always telling people how Laurel had a stick up her ass only now it's shoved up yours instead?" he drawled. "It just made me wonder if it was the same stick or if you just grew a whole new one and, if so, how it got up there."

"Excuse me?" Laurel burst out, hands on hips, as she glared at Brandon.

He held up his hands in a warding gesture before hitching his thumb towards Ollie, "I didn't say it, your mature and responsible boyfriend did," he tossed back. "Be pissed at him, not me."

"Watch it, McNamara," Ollie growled.

"Or what? You'll sexually harass my pink plastic flamingo collection or do you have a specific type?" he asked blithely. "It's the little hats and beards, isn't it? Yeah, they're hot," he mused before grinning. "Hey, check this out," his voice took on a deep Irish brogue, "You put one of my gnomes in the maternity ward, and I'll put two of your lawn jockey's in the morgue." He looked around the table, "Get it? Sean Connery; The Untouchables." When Ollie responded by silently clenching his jaw in anger, he paused, "You know, because I'm apparently the Al Capone of mail boxes and lawn jockeys; untouchable."

"Wait, I thought Sean Connery and his crew were the Untouchables in that movie?" McKenna asked with dancing eyes.

"Connery must not have been that Untouchable," Sara pointed out. "He died at the end, remember?"

"Yeah, he was definitely touchable," Brandon agreed, "Kind of like that garden gnome Queen got busted for diddling in public."

"You're an asshole, McNamara; you know that?" Ollie growled out at last.

"Yeah, well, we can't all be perfect," he shrugged, blowing on his spoon before balancing it on the tip of his nose and lifting an eyebrow in the other man's direction, "I'm an asshole who murders lawn jockeys and mailboxes with impunity while you have a weird fetish for German midgets in pointy hats who hang out in people's flower beds. Guess that makes us about even." He frowned, "Those things are from Germany, right? I'm just assuming because of the little lederhosen."

Sara began laughing so hard she began to choke and even Tommy, even though he was giving it his best not to, had to bite back a laugh.

"What's peg-?" Felicity began to ask until Tommy put his hand over her mouth.

"Don't," Tommy ordered.

"But—" she garbled from behind his hand.

"No!"

"I'm beginning to think you were right about Brandon and the sobriety thing," McKenna said with a snicker while Laurel and Ollie both eyed the other man angrily.

"Okay, enough," Tommy said snappily after finally succeeding in taming his impulse to burst into hysterical laughter by keeping his hand pressed against Felicity's mouth in order to prevent himself from falling over the edge and potentially ruining several lifelong friendships in one fell blow. "This is a nice birthday breakfast for Felicity," he told all of them, the birthday girl in particular, "There will be no more talk about drugs, toilet habits, sexy grandmothers, Al Capone, erectile dysfunction, perverted lawn ornaments, or people sticking things up other people's butts; understood? We're just going to enjoy breakfast and that's it." He slowly removed his hand from Felicity's mouth and gave her a stern look, "And no more Dr. Phil; every time you mention that guy all it does it cause trouble."

"Damn right," Ollie grumbled. "And, by the way, I don't know what kind of doctor this Phil guy is, but you should really think about reporting him to somebody. I don't know about you, man, and I know Felicity isn't your sister, but if I ever caught that guy saying shit like that to Thea I'd kick his fuckin' ass."

Even Laurel had to bite her lip at that one as she averted her eyes and did her best not to look at any of them directly.

Ollie stared at all their barely composed expressions, "What? What am I missing here?"

"Nothing, man," Tommy told him as he loosened his hand around Felicity mouth and draped it over her shoulders instead, "Nothing at all."

"I don't think Ollie watches a lot of daytime TV," she whispered as she snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder, causing him to have to press his lips together so he wouldn't wind up setting them all off again.

At that point, Gladys came out with their drink orders. As she passed out their glasses, she looked around at their expressions which ran the gamut from confused anger to barely constrained amusement.

"So what's so funny?" She asked in a raspy voice.

"We were just talking about Dr. Phil and the widespread recreational use of Viagra," Brandon informed her blithely.

"Well, in my opinion they should go ahead and put that stuff in the water supply," she told him. "It's a miracle drug if you ask me, and if Dr. Phil's on it then I volunteer to be the first in line to help that man work it off. There's nothin' I love more than a tall, slow drawling Texan. You kids okay?" She asked and they all somehow managed to keep it in check until after she left the table.

After that, not so much.

As all of them, Ollie and Laurel included, began laughing as one, while Tommy leaned back allowing his head to bounce repeatedly against the hard wood frame on the back of the booth, and prayed for a concussion.

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As the food came out, Brandon stared at it in awe, "Bacon," he said in a near whisper. "He made edible salad bowls out of bacon."

The rotund older man nodded as Gladys handed out the small salads that were indeed being served in bowls made out of braided crisp bacon, "I figured, you know, people were all going low carb and stuff so why not make the bowls out of bacon. Plus, it might make more people order the salad and it would justify bumping up the price a little. What do you kids think?"

Instead of responding, Brandon just got up silently and wrapped his arms around the other man's shoulders.

"McNamara, I swear to God if you kiss me again I will ban your ass for life," Big Earl said in warning as he kept his hands at his sides and eyed the younger man warily.

Brandon pulled away slightly and looked him in the eye, "I love you, Big Earl."

"Yeah, well, sit your ass down and eat," the older man said gruffly. He waited until Brandon sat back down to address the rest of them, "Now this bein' the brunch menu, some of the items aren't strictly breakfast related but most are. I also been experimentin' with low carb and high fiber choices so we can offer some of the more health-conscious types some dishes they can enjoy, too."

"Bowls made out of bacon are considered 'health conscious'?" Laurel asked as she eyed her salad uncertainly.

"It's lean bacon," Big Earl told her. "I'm also thinking of doing it with turkey bacon for folks who can't have pork."

"But still…?" Laurel began.

"Don't question the genius that is Big Earl!" Brandon told her before offering the man in question a beatific smile, "You were saying, oh Maestro of Bacon?"

The older man sighed and rolled his eyes, "I also got a lot of new healthier apps to try out." He began pointing to the dishes one by one, "Oven Fried Garlic Parmesan Green Beans with Ranch; they're baked so less grease and carbs than French fries. Baked zucchini fries, which is another one of our new low carb apps. Salami and Cream Cheese Roll-ups; that's gonna be a lunch item with your choice of a side. I'm thinkin' of offering a regular side salad or bacon bowl for an extra $2.50, and a choice of sweet potato fries, regular fries, or steamed vegetables. We also got Cheesy Cauliflower Tater Tots; those are low carb and vegetarian. And, lastly, low-carb Pizza Mushroom Tops."

"This looks great," Tommy said, already reaching for one of the stuffed mushrooms with pepperoni and black olives, "but what's with the low-carb all of the sudden."

"The doctor said Big Earl needed to cut down on the sugar and carbs before he wound up in a diabetic coma," Gladys said dryly as the man in question tossed her a dirty look.

"Yeah, well, I'm also working on a few low sugar dessert options but I figured I'd save those for another day," the older man said gruffly. "In the meantime, we're also adding a few new items to the regular menu. There's Grilled Cheese Roll-ups for the kid's menu, along with Ham and Cheese Mini-sliders, and Chicken Bacon Ranch Mac and Cheese."

"To heck with the kid's menu; I'd order this stuff all day long," Sara said already digging into the grilled cheese roll-ups. "You should think about making these with ham and turkey and doing up mini-Monte Cristo's, too."

"Huh, that's not a bad idea," the older man said rocking back on his heels a little. "Write that down," he told Gladys.

"Got it," she told him as she scribbled something in her pad.

"Speaking of that though, we also got some Honey Ham and Cheese Biscuit Sliders we're adding to the regular breakfast menu, along with Maple Bacon Biscuits," he told them. "Oh, and speaking of bacon," another waiter came out with a heavily laden tray and set two small tin buckets on the table with filled with glistening strips of bacon sticking out. "Candied bacon; we got Maple Brown Sugar and Bourbon Brown Sugar." As all three boys reached for the bacon strips simultaneously he continued, "Along with samples from the new menu we're bringing out a few of our regular offerings for you kids to try as well." Gladys began handing each one of them a note pad and pencil, "Everything is on the house; all I ask is that you write down what you liked, what you didn't like, and how everything could be improved. That mini Monte Cristo idea was a good one, by the way," he told Sara. "I'm gonna go into the back and work on that one right now. I'll be sure to have Gladys bring them out when they're done and, if it works out, I'll put your name on 'em when we publish the new menus."

"Really?" Sara asked brightly, "So it could be like 'Sara Lance's Monte Cristo Wraps' or 'The Sara Deluxe'?"

"That's so cool!" Felicity said with a huge grin.

"Whatever you want to call 'em—within reason," he told her, "No butts, no coconuts; gotta keep it clean. That goes for the rest of you," he said sweeping his eyes over the rest of them. "If you come up with something not on the menu, or a twist on something we already have like Sara here did, I'll put your name on it and invite you into the back to take a picture with whatever dish you come up with so we can put it up on the wall; might even put it in the next cookbook, who knows?"

"This is like a dream come true, Big Earl! I have *so* many—" Brandon began eagerly.

"Except McNamara," Big Earl said cutting him off. "I'm not letting you anywhere near my menu or my kitchen. I can barely even tolerate having you in my restaurant most days," he told the younger man without heat. "In the meantime…" Another waiter came out holding a tray with a massive tall stack dripping with lavender icing and topped with pink and purple candles, "Attention, folks!" the older man called out gaining the attention of both the staff and patrons, "This little gal is having a birthday today so all together now!" The big man's deep baritone filled the air, "Hey there, it's your birthday, and because it's your birthday…"

Several of the staff gathered around and, in an eardrum jarring chorus, along with a few of the regulars who had obviously seen this scene play out many times before, began to sing.

"We got a treat for youuu!"

The staff gathered in a semi-circle and began clapping their hands before slapping their thighs and shifting their hands on top of each other repeatedly; mimicking pancake stacks like they were doing a House of Pancakes version of the Macarena or something.

"First we poured it! Then we flipped it! Then we stacked it! Higher and higher!"

"Higher and higher!"

"And because you're one year older, a Pancake party!"

Sara and McKenna both began clapping along and singing at the top of their lungs on either side of a beaming and blushing Felicity.

"It's a Pancake Party! Blow out the candles and pour that syrupppp!"

"It's your special day! Dino's Big Stack comin' your way! So we get to gather and sayyyy!"

"We love youuu! We love youuu! And Pancakes, tooooo!" the large older man in the center bellowed out the last syllable in a low rumble that reminded Tommy of the mating call of a rhinoceros with a head cold.

Then again, it was her birthday, not his, and as long as she was having fun that's all that mattered.

"Blow out the candles!" Big Earl told her with a grin. Tommy gave her his arm so she could stand up in the booth since the stack was too tall for her to reach them otherwise. As soon as she blew out the candles, the wait staff all burst out into cheers before quickly dispersing. "Happy birthday, honey," the older man told her as Gladys fished an ancient Polaroid out of her apron pocket and snapped her picture before handing it to her.

"Thank you," Felicity said giddily as she accepted the picture, her smile seeming to light up the entire room.

"You're very welcome," the older woman told her as one of the other wait staff set a jug of what looked like warm melted icing down on the table along with a shaker of sprinkles.

"Okay," Big Earl said, putting his thumbs into his belt loops and hitching up his pants before looking around the table, "You kids let us know if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks Big Earl!" Brandon called out to the man, already reaching for the top of the tall stack and sliding a couple of the extra-large pancakes onto a plate.

"Hey!" McKenna scowled at him.

"What?" he frowned then gestured towards the still towering stack of pancakes, "She can't eat all of that by herself. Besides, I thought we agreed to do this family style. Family shares everything, right?"

"She means that Felicity should have the first pancake, doofus," Sara said rolling her eyes. "It is her birthday, remember?"

"Oh," he said frowning at his plate before turning to Felicity. "Switch plates with me."

"That's okay, you can keep that one," Felicity told him still looking at her picture like it was the most amazing thing in the world. "Besides, the top one is the one with all the melted wax from the candles."

"Fine by me," Brandon said happily as he began to dig in, "The wax is the best part."

"The wax is the best part?" Tommy repeated dubiously as he eased a couple of pancakes onto a plate and placed it in front of Felicity before doing the same for the others.

"Yeah," Brandon agreed around a mouthful of fluffy goodness. "You know, like those wax soda bottle candies you used to get for Halloween when you were a kid?"

"Ugh, I hated those things," Sara said disgustedly as she accepted her plate from Tommy and reached for the jug of icing, "Worst candy ever."

"No, they weren't," the other man objected.

"They were," McKenna told him as she waited for Tommy to hand her a plate. "That and wax lips. Who sees wax and thinks, 'Oh, let's feed this to little kids'?" She shuddered, "Might as well be chewing on crayons."

Sara wrinkled her nose in agreement, "Yeah; they were gross."

"They weren't gross!" he scowled. "I used to love those things, especially the ones with fangs and stuff."

"Yes, they were," Sara tossed back, "And those big red lips with the fangs were so stupid; I used to always toss mine or trade them for something better."

"I liked 'em," Ollie said with a shrug before catching the look Laurel was giving him. "I mean, not anymore but I used to."

"So what's your favorite candy now?" Sara asked curiously.

"Jolly Ranchers," he said immediately, nodding in thanks when Tommy passed down his pancakes, "The Sour Apple ones."

She shuddered, "Ugh, sour."

He looked over at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement, "Okay, so what kind of candy did you used to like when you were a kid?"

"She still is a kid," Laurel muttered none too quietly.

Sara threw her sister a dirty look before answering him, "Pixie sticks."

"Pixie sticks?" Tommy repeated with a grimace. "You might as well be eating Kool-Aid powder or something."

"I like that, too," she said cheekily.

"She does," McKenna told him. "I've seen her do it. She even licks the packet when she's done then walks around with her tongue out so people can see all the different colors."

"Whatever," he said before looking to her sister, "Pass me your plate."

"That's alright," Laurel said with a polite smile. "I'm not that hungry."

"You sure?" Ollie asked with a frown.

She nodded serenely and hummed, "I'll probably just stick with salad."

Sara and McKenna shared a knowing look while Ollie just shrugged and reached for the sprinkles.

"In that case, I'll take her share," Brandon said as he eagerly shoveled his pancakes into his mouth.

"Go ahead," she said easily, "I'm planning on moving my salad to a plate as well so you can take my 'bacon bowl', too." Laurel wrinkled her nose, "I don't even want to know how many fat grams are in this thing."

Tommy, before he could stop himself, found himself saying, "You know, Laurel, you shouldn't worry about dieting so much; you're really not that fat."

Everyone froze.

"What?" she asked, her cheeks coloring in outrage.

"I mean, you're not fat at all!" he said quickly. "In fact, you're really skinny—almost too skinny! Kind of bony actually."

"Merlyn—What. The. Hell?" McKenna mouthed at him.

"I just—" His mouth fell open and he gulped, "Um, I just meant that you could stand to gain a few pounds, you know, because guys like curvy girls with big, um…" he gestured helplessly, "Not that anything of yours is small, per se. Or it is," he rushed out, "Just not *too* small! Like the perfect kind of small because, more than a mouthful is a…" he floundered as even Brandon was staring at him openmouthed at that point but whatever demon had taken over his mouth apparently wasn't done yet since he couldn't seem to stop from adding, "Not that I want to put anything of yours in my mouth…although I wouldn't have minded—you know, before…as you well know, but you're dating Ollie now so—"

Felicity reached up and clapped her hand over his mouth. She smiled at Laurel and batted her eyelashes, "What Tommy is trying to say is that you should have some pancakes because, before you arrived, we were discussing body image issues amongst teenage girls and the associated dangers of eating disorders and excess dieting. He meant no offence. In fact, we had a whole discussion about self-esteem and how girls shouldn't have to change themselves just so boys will like them. He just wanted to make sure you were eating properly in order to set a good example for me. You know, since you're going to be valedictorian and he's always saying you're such a good role model and all." She looked at him fondly and smiled, "He does stuff like that; he's very sensitive to feminist issues.

"What she said," Tommy said faintly as she dropped her hand.

"Oh," Laurel said, her eyebrows drawing together slightly, "Um, well, in that case, uh…" she handed him her empty plate, "I'll have a pancake then."

"Just one?" he asked, clearing his throat nervously.

The older girl looked at Felicity uncertainly, "Maybe…two?"

As he plated her pancakes, Ollie's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Since when do you care about feminist issues?"

"Since always," Felicity answered for him before he could speak.

Which, given what had just happened, was probably a good thing.

"Yeah," Ollie snorted derisively, "So I guess that explains why all of his shirts have half-naked chicks all over them."

"Not all of my shirts," Tommy muttered to himself.

"Actually, celebrating female sexuality through art makes him even more of a feminist, in my opinion," Felicity said protectively.

He scoffed at that, "How is wearing shirts with naked girls shaking their funbags—er, breasts," he corrected, "'celebrating female sexuality through art' much less make him into a feminist?"

Tommy gave him a look, "Dude—"

"I'm just asking," the other man said with a shrug.

"Simple," she told him, "The decision a woman makes to expose her body is a feminist issue and, in turn, the women who choose to model for those pictures are essentially exploring the political and societal connotations of nakedness."

"Oh, this is going to be good," McKenna whispered to Sara as she sat back in her seat and grinned. "I taught her this."

"Maybe we should be recording it then?" Sara sniggered.

"The political and societal connotations of nakedness?" Ollie repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," she nodded decisively. "In fact, some women would argue that posing nude is the ultimate feminist act. A naked woman is seen as vulnerable by society; she is a victim. A woman who is sexually promiscuous or projects her sexuality openly is seen as 'fallen', a victim of her own uncontrollable impulses since she, by virtue of her sex, is somehow weaker than a man. The feminist rebuttal to that is that by being naked and showing strength in her nudity, she is therefore reclaiming power over her own body. While some people see the nude body of a woman as immoral or degrading, others would argue that by being naked and unashamed, she is denouncing the idea that a woman's only value to society is as a sexual object. It's basically a direct commentary on the whole Madonna/Whore dichotomy," she said off-handedly.

Now everybody was staring at her.

"Um, what?" Ollie asked, scratching his temple in confusion.

"How…old are you again?" Laurel asked slowly.

"Thirteen," Felicity told her easily. She leaned forward and propped her elbow against the table, "Anyway, the way Tommy explained it to me the other day when we were talking about slut-shaming—"

"Slut-shaming?" the other man blinked.

"Ah man, I wish my mom was here for this," Sara murmured shaking her head.

"Told you this was gonna be good," McKenna grinned.

Tommy closed his eyes and prayed for a hole to open up and swallow him.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "See, our society sets arbitrary rules for women about what is and isn't 'decent'. For example, a man can walk around topless but a woman can't; why?"

Ollie leaned back slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, "You're…asking me?" He took a deep breath then shrugged, "Um, because…"

"Because?" she prompted.

He looked to Laurel who frowned at him then shifted uncomfortably, "I don't know; because women have breasts and men don't?"

"Men have breasts," she told him.

"Yeah, but not like women's breasts," he said with a slight flush.

"Not exactly, no, but essentially men's breasts are the same," she told him. "Male breasts have nipples, milk ducts, and some mammary tissue. They also have oxytocin and prolactin, the hormones responsible for milk production. In fact, in some animal species like the Dayak fruit bat, goats, and even cats, males have been known to breastfeed their young. And, among the Aka Pygmy people of central Africa, breastfeeding men are commonplace."

"Say what now?" Even Tommy had to gawp at that one.

She turned to him and nodded, "While they don't actually produce milk, they use their breasts to soothe their young, *but*," she paused, "men *can* lactate; it's a scientifically proven fact."

"Seriously?" Tommy asked disbelievingly.

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p'. "Plus, men can get breast cancer. Dr. Phil had a show on that, too." She looked to Ollie, "So are those the reasons that you feel Tommy can't be a feminist and why women don't deserve the same rights and considerations as men; because women can breastfeed and get cancer?

"Just—um," Ollie blinked several times, his brow furrowed as he shook his head, "No?"

"Unless, of course, you think that women who choose to empower themselves through a sexually affirming act are doing something wrong?" she said archly. "In which case, that would mean that you're the one who thinks these women are not living up to arbitrary standards stipulated by the patriarchy, thereby promoting the systemic oppression of women." She paused and frowned, "You aren't doing that, are you?"

"Uh, no? No, not at all," He said slowly then took a deep breath. "I would, um, never, um, oppress anybody or arbitrarily promote the, um…pa…tri…archy?"

"That's good to hear," she said happily. "Please pass the icing?"

"Here," he said numbly, passing over the small pitcher.

"And boom goes the dynamite," McKenna said as she and Sara shared a high five, "That's my girl!"

"Felicity is awesome," Sara agreed.

"Thank you," she said brightly then poured a generous amount of melted frosting over her pancakes, "Yum!"

McKenna looked at Tommy and grinned, "I really love that kid."

"Me, too," Tommy said, shaking his head before digging into his own pancakes.

"And I want to just say for the record that I'm a proud feminist, too," Brandon announced. "So any time any of you ladies want to take your shirts off in public, I will stand with you gladly and offer you whatever support these two hands can-Hey!" He blinked and sputtered as a piece of pancake dripping with sugary icing hit his face and slid down his cheek. He grabbed it before it hit the floor and tossed it in his mouth before grabbing a napkin and wiping off his face, "No wasting the sweet deliciousness—not cool!"

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The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity beginning with mini-golf (which wasn't nearly as lame as Tommy remembered), the Aquarium, and ending at the zoo several hours later.

And then the day went all to hell.

It was late afternoon when they swung by The Geeky Monkey for a quick coffee and something sweet to wash down the foul taste left in all their mouths by what would forever after be referred to as 'the kangaroo incident'.

"Kangaroos are creepy," Felicity said with a shudder as she swirled her straw around her smoothie.

"Yeah, I think we'll be skipping that particular exhibit from here on out," Tommy agreed as he took a sip of his Frappuccino.

"I always liked the zoo," Laurel said in a hollow voice as she drank down her Vente Macchiato. "Ever since I was a little kid; now I don't know if I can ever go back again."

"One minute we were petting the little girl kangaroo and then his creepy T-Rex hands just snatched her away and—" Sara pulled a face and made a disgusted noise.

Ollie dumped a couple of packs of sugar into his coffee, "It wasn't that bad."

"Dude," Brandon said looking at him like he'd grown another head.

The other man's mouth twisted, "Well, I mean, at least nobody got hurt, right?"

"Physically," McKenna said flatly, "Mentally I'm scarred for life."

"Did you see that thing's 'O' face?" Brandon opened his mouth and twisted his jaw, hitching his lips over his teeth in an exaggerated expression.

"Stop it!" McKenna snapped, tossing a straw at his head causing him to throw up his hands in self-defensive. "Don't ever talk about that ever again or I will kick your ass! I mean it!"

"I'm definitely having nightmares later. I mean, I've seen The Exorcist like twenty times and nothing, but that?" Sara's voice trailed off and she shuddered.

"This is all your fault, you know that, right?" Laurel said, turning her accusing eyes toward Ollie.

"How is it my fault?" Ollie asked, taking umbrage.

"The only reason we were even inside the kangaroo enclosure is because of you," Laurel said with a scowl.

"Hey, when I mentioned that my mom was on the board I figured they'd let us pet a monkey or one of those baby leopards or something," Ollie shot back, "You know, something harmless…not a rape-y kangaroo on steroids," he muttered. "And, hey, did you see the guns on that sucker?" he asked leaning back in his chair, "That sucker was like the Hulk Hogan of kangaroos. I mean who knew just going to the zoo could be so dangerous?"

"I'm never going to Australia," Felicity said glassy eyed, "Ever. Those things are everywhere there."

"At least the zoo lady tried to make the best of it," Tommy said weakly. "She apologized then offered to finish the tour another day. Plus, she gave us that very, um, informative talk…" Felicity stared at him dead-eyed and he winced, "Sorry, I just figured I'd go the 'silver lining' route since you usually like educational…stuff."

"Educational; right," McKenna drawled. "It was certainly educational."

"I think that traumatized me worse than the humping kangaroos," Sara said wrinkling her nose. "I really didn't need to know that the females have three vaginas. Or that they can stay perpetually pregnant."

"I didn't need to see the process of them getting pregnant," Laurel said in disgust. "Especially not all up close and personal like that."

"Yeah, I think I got some on me at one point," Brandon said with a grimace as he wiped his hands on his jeans despite the fact that their first stop afterwards had been to the zoo's restrooms.

"Come on, Dude," Tommy said closing his eyes painfully as he tried not to upchuck his piece of chocotorta.

"Sorry," the other man said contritely. "It was probably just kangaroo spit or something…I hope," he added under his breath.

Tommy dropped his fork with a clatter and swallowed convulsively as he tried to get his shit together before an already bad situation got significantly worse.

Felicity picked up her hand slowly and held it up to her face, "Can you let me out? I really want to wash my hands again."

"Yeah," he said clearing his throat and sliding out of the booth so she could move past him, "Do you need me to go with you?"

"No, that's okay," Felicity told him even though it was obvious just from looking at her that she was still completely wigged out.

"I'll go," McKenna assured him.

"I'll go with you," Sara said sliding out of the booth.

"Me, too," Laurel agreed following them. "My hands could use another good scrubbing as well and I think saw some Comet under the sink."

As soon as the girls closed the door to the ladies room behind them, Tommy folded his arms and lowered his head to the table with a muffled thump, "I just wanted to give her a nice birthday," he mumbled into his folded arms. "She gave me a party so I wanted to pay her back. I thought, 'The zoo; that's nice, right? Just an innocent family-friendly activity'," he moaned. "One horny kangaroo later and now she's probably traumatized for life."

"I'm sorry, man," Ollie said contritely.

"S'kay, not your fault. It's not like you slipped the kangaroo some of Brandon's Sextasy or anything," he muttered.

"That's true," Brandon said, "Of course, if you had…" he paused, "Well, let's just say things could've gotten a lot worse."

"Worse?" Ollie said flatly. "Worse than being sprayed by horny kangaroo spit while they hump each other within smelling distance?"

The other man hesitated at that, "Well, it could have gotten confused and went after one of us instead. I told you about Grammy's portrait, right?"

"Yeah," Ollie said in a dangerous growl, "That reminds me; don't ever bring up the gnome thing in front of Laurel again or I swear to God, I will slip some of that shit in your drink and drop you off in front of a nursing home."

"Fine," he agreed. "I won't bring that up as long as you stop bringing up the lawn jockey thing."

Tommy looked up at them blearily and scowled, "Really? I just scarred Felicity for life by taking her to a zoo where jacked up sex-crazed kangaroos on steroids went to town on each other while she was petting them and you two are worried about people thinking you have a fetish for lawn art?"

Ollie rolled his shoulders with a contrite look, "Yeah, well, hate to say it but what's done is done. You can't exactly un-hump the kangaroo once it's been, y'know—"

"Humped," Brandon finished.

"Fuck," Tommy cursed, his chin dropping to his chest.

Ollie's cheeks puffed out as he nodded, "That, too."

"And hey," Brandon said quickly, "when you think about it, this could be a good thing."

Tommy pinned him with a dark look, "How in the fuck was seeing that a good thing? Felicity will probably need therapy now! Hell, after that I need fucking therapy!"

"Yeah, but at least you won't have to have the sex talk with her now that she's seen it for herself…up close and personal," the other man said slowly. "Although, after seeing that kangaroo's corkscrew dick you'll never have to worry about her wanting to have sex anyway. Hell, I don't even want to look at my own dick after seeing that shit."

"I'm going to kill him," Tommy breathed closing his eyes, "One more word about Felicity seeing that kangaroo's freaky looking cock and I'm going to break his fucking neck."

"Do you want me to talk about his weird looking balls instead?" Brandon offered. "Because that shit was fucked up. I mean, first off they were in front of his dick which was weird, and then they started flopping all over the place like a pair of fuzzy hacky sacks—like totally 3D in your face-!" He put his splayed hand up to his nose, "Right there!"

Tommy jumped up but before he could wrap his hands around the other man's throat, Ollie grabbed his shoulder and forced him back in the chair while giving Brandon a warning look, "Dude, not helping!"

"Sorry," he said with a wince.

"Okay, now look," Ollie said firmly looking between both men before settling his gaze on Tommy and taking a deep breath, "I know it was bad—"

"Bad? It was a fucking disaster, Ollie!" Tommy growled.

"—but she'll get over it," he said carefully.

"She'll get over it? Over *that*?" He repeated incredulously. "She—I—what?"

"Hey, yeah, it was…" he cleared his throat and made a helpless gesture, "Yeah, but Thea has seen me do a lot of fucked up shit and she's perfectly fine. Remember that time we got wasted and she saw us get into that pissing contest?"

"Over what?" Brandon asked with a frown as Tommy flushed.

"Over the azalea bushes next to the pool," Ollie answered for him.

Brandon scratched his shoulder absently and tilted his head, "So…what? You were arguing about who had the best azaleas while stoned?"

"No, it—" Tommy's mouth tightened in annoyance, "We got in a pissing contest *over* the azaleas."

Brandon's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "I'm still not…?"

"I bet Tommy that I could piss further than he could so we whipped it out and started peeing on some bushes; it was just some stupid guy shit, you know?" Ollie said shaking his head slightly, "Only I had no idea that Thea was playing outside—I mean, it was still pretty early, not even breakfast yet, and she was having some kind of tea party with her stuffed animals on the other side of where we were standing…" He sighed, "Long story short, we wound up pissing all over her favorite teddy bear and she freaked out."

"Oh. Yeah, that's fucked up," the other man winced.

"It's not like we hit her with it or anything," Ollie muttered. "I mean, we got the table, the bear, and one of the cups but we changed directions when she started yelling."

"Not my proudest moment…" Tommy said slowly.

Although, for the record, his did go further than Ollie's. The other man might have a little more game when it came to the ladies but Tommy had the prostate of a champion.

"The point is she freaked but then we ran out after we sobered up and bought her another bear and a new Disney Princess tea set and she forgot all about it," Ollie said firmly.

Tommy stared at him, "So what? You think I should just go out and buy Felicity a teddy bear to make up for having a ringside seat to-" he threw up his hands, "—that?"

"I'm saying, replace a bad memory with a good one like we did with Thea," he said carefully. "Day's not over, right? You can still salvage it and..." he sighed, "since it is kind of my fault for convincing the zoo lady to let us pet some of the animals, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help make it up to her."

Tommy felt his blood pressure begin to stabilize as he looked over to his friend and recognized the fact that he was sincerely trying to extend an olive branch. After all the weirdness of the last few weeks, not to mention the shit day he'd had, it was nice to have his partner back.

"Fine," he agreed, "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know," Ollie said leaning back in the booth. "Hey, isn't there some kind of festival going on over in Central City?" He asked them, "We could hit the boardwalk, go to the carnival; maybe do the roller coaster?"

"Yeah, but by the time we drove down there everything will be shutting down," Tommy grimaced. "Plus we'd have to get hotel rooms and…no, has to be local."

"We could go to the movies?" Brandon offered. "Felicity loves movies, right?"

She did like movies…

"What's playing?"

"Uh…?" Ollie whipped out his Blackberry and dialed. After a minute or two he grimaced, "Nothing; just a stoner movie, a horror movie about global warming, and some lame chick flick."

His face fell, "That's it?"

"The good movies don't ever come out until later in the summer," he shrugged.

"Is that place still open with the indoor go cart track?" Brandon asked hopefully, "You know with the animatronic bears and the pizza party zone?"

"Yeah, that could work," Tommy said perking up slightly. "We could get some go carts, hit the arcade…"

"It's Saturday," Ollie told them. "That's place is going to be packed full of screaming brats and that's if we can get in the door."

"So we just slip the guy at the door a couple of bucks and muscle our way to the head of the line," the other man said off-handedly.

"It's not a nightclub, dude; it's a kid's party place," Ollie said wryly.

Brandon made a disgruntled noise, "So what are we gonna do?"

"You know what? Fuck it," Tommy said at last, "I know what we're going to do; we're gonna go home, pack a few bags, and head up to Big Bear tonight. There's plenty to do up there; she'll love it."

"You want to take her to the lake cabin?" Ollie asked, his eyebrow's lifting slightly. "Yeah, that could work."

"What about Malcolm?" Brandon argued.

"What about him?" he retorted. "Malcolm's not going to show up tomorrow and you know it, might as well just head out tonight that way, when he does call to offer some lame ass excuse, at least the fall out won't be so bad afterwards." He looked to Ollie, "You wanna come, man?"

"I'm always up for Big Bear," he said immediately. "How long are you planning on staying?"

"As long as you want," Tommy shrugged. "I was planning on staying up there a while, maybe through the end of summer break, but we can take separate cars if you gotta be someplace."

"Can Laurel come?" he asked.

"I guess so," Tommy said carefully. "Will her folks let her go?"

"Sure—" he began before McNamara cut him off.

"Dude, there's no way Detective Hard-ass is gonna let you take his daughter out of town like that," the other man said wryly.

Ollie, however, didn't look all that concerned, "So she tells him that she's having a sleepover at McKenna's place. In fact, McKenna could tell her folks the same thing and they can both come."

"I don't know, man…" Tommy said uncertainly. "I don't mind if they come, but I don't want her folks to get pissed then blame us. Her dad would probably bust us for kidnapping or something."

"She does it all the time, trust me," he assured him. "She offered to spend the night at my place a couple of times saying her folks would never catch on. But," he paused as he met his gaze, "only if you're cool with it. I mean, you're still okay with me being with Laurel, right?"

"Yeah, man; I was over that a while back," he said waving him off.

"So you want me to ask her?"

Tommy took a moment to think about that. He wasn't really worried about Laurel pitching another fit or anything. Other than a little residual stiffness that morning, she'd loosened up considerably and had even been nice to Felicity despite the whole Dr. Phil debacle at The House of Pancakes.

Plus it would be nice for Felicity to have McKenna there and he was going to ask her if she wanted to go anyway…

He watched as the girls exited the bathroom laughing, their moods significantly better than they'd been before they left.

"Yeah, okay," he heard himself say, "If they want to come it's cool with me."

Ollie grinned, "Cool!"

"Hang on," Brandon said holding up his hand, "What about Sara?"

"What about Sara?" Ollie repeated with a frown.

"Yeah, what about me?" Sara asked as she slid into the booth with the others.

Ollie slung his arm around Laurel and tugged her close with a rakish grin, "Tommy wants us all to hang out at his cabin up in Big Bear this weekend. He said, if you guys want to, you could come along."

"Is Malcolm meeting us there?" Felicity asked excitedly.

"Um…" Tommy gave her an uncertain look, "Maybe," he said at last.

"What do you mean?" She frowned. "Malcolm's coming home tomorrow, remember? We can't leave without him."

He took a deep breath before placing his arm around her shoulders and looking down at her carefully, "Sunshine, you know, Malcolm…he gets really busy…"

Her face fell, "Did he call and say he wasn't coming while I was in the bathroom?"

"No," he assured her then hesitated.

She cast her hopeful eyes upwards, "What then?"

Thinking quickly he said, "Um, Oliver was just on his phone checking on some stuff and it turns out that it's storming pretty bad over in China."

She frowned, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he lied, "And because it's so bad, Malcolm might not be able to fly out as soon as he hoped."

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked apprehensively.

"Sure," he said quickly, "but, just to be safe, he shouldn't try to come home until the weather clears, don't you think?"

"I guess…" she said looking downcast.

God, he felt like a total shit-heel for lying to her but it was for the best, he reasoned. Better a little disappointment now than a huge letdown later.

"Hey," he said as he tipped her chin upwards and gave her a little smile, "you'll still have me there, plus there's a ton of stuff to do and, maybe later, Malcolm will be able to join us after all."

Again, he felt bad for lying since he knew there was no way Malcolm would do that but hopefully by then she'd be too busy enjoying herself to notice.

"That's true," Felicity said brightening up slightly. "How long are we going to be there?"

"As long as you want," he promised, "Maybe even the whole summer. They have all kinds of festivals and stuff, including a huge Renaissance Fair at the end of August if you want to go."

"Cool!" She said breaking out in a huge grin.

"Wait, you guys are spending the entire summer up in Big Bear?" McKenna asked with a frown.

"If Felicity wants to, yeah," Tommy shrugged.

"Well, there's no way my parents are going to let me spend the next couple of months living out of town with you guys, I can tell you that right now," she told him.

He gave her a sardonic look, "I didn't think they would," he told her. "The plan was for us to take separate vehicles so you guys could drive home and Felicity and I could stay up there. You guys can drive back on the weekends and stuff if you want."

"So, how big is this cabin?" Laurel asked curiously.

"Pretty big," he shrugged, "Not huge, but the size of a regular house big. It belonged to my grandparents and they left it to me when they died. It's got plenty of room though; three bedrooms and a loft, plus a fold out couch. We should be fine for space."

"And who's sleeping where?" McKenna asked pointedly, "In case you haven't done the math; seven people, three bedrooms…?"

Tommy noticed she was including Sara in that count which was fine by him—in theory—as long as no one got busted.

"And a loft space with two twins," he reminded her, "Plus, all the other beds are kings and queens if we have to double up."

"Well, Laurel and I call the master suite," Ollie said running his fingers down said woman's arm as he gave her a heated look. "Sara and Felicity can have the loft, Brandon gets the queen, then you and Tommy can share—"

"Whoa!" McKenna cut him off, "I'm not sleeping with Merlyn."

Tommy gave her a look, "Thanks for that."

"You know what I mean," she said in exasperation. "We're not together."

"Oh," Ollie said with what Tommy knew to be feigned casualness, "Well, then, you and McNamara can share and Tommy can get the queen."

"I'm not sleeping with him either," she told him with a glare.

"I'm sorry, I just assumed…" he said, his voice trailing off.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "And why's that?"

"I mean, it's obvious you've been spending a lot of time over at Tommy's so I just thought you two were hooking up," he said easily. "No need to be ashamed; we're all adults here."

"Dude," Tommy said with a hard look.

Ollie grinned, "What, man? I'm just trying to help you get the girl."

"And I already told you we're just friends," he said firmly.

"Friends?" he scoffed.

"Yeah."

"Whatever happened to 'men and women can't be friends'?" The other man asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Men and women can be friends," McKenna argued.

"No they can't," Ollie told her.

"Why can't they?" Laurel asked with a frown. "Besides, why do you care if she and Tommy are hooking up or not?"

His grin fell and he straightened up slightly, "Uh, I mean, I don't," he assured her. "Like I said, I just figured that Tommy had a thing for her and was afraid to say anything so I was just testing the waters; being a good wingman, y'know?"

"Right," Laurel said darkly.

"Besides, being someone's friend is a lot better than being just their girlfriend," Felicity said confidently.

"How do you figure?" Ollie asked, eager to place his attention elsewhere.

"Well, because, like I told Tommy; when you're just someone's boyfriend or girlfriend then you have to pretend to do the things they like to do so they'll keep liking you, but if you're friends first, then you don't have to pretend," she said simply.

"She has a point," McKenna agreed.

"That's true," Sara drawled, "I mean, you pretend to like stuff for Ollie all the time."

"She does?" Ollie asked in surprise.

"No, I don't!" Laurel said glaring at her sister.

"Really, Laurel?" Sara said drolly.

"I don't!" she insisted. "I don't have to pretend with Ollie and he doesn't have to pretend with me either; we've been friends since elementary school, remember?"

"Um, yeah," Ollie agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"Then why do you guys fight about stupid shit all the time?" Sara asked with a sneer.

"To be fair, there's always a period of adjustment in every relationship," Felicity offered. "Dr. Phil says it's normal to have disagreements as long as you keep the lines of communication open and engage in a healthy dialog."

"What did I say about Dr. Phil?" Tommy asked sternly.

"I was just trying to help," she said defensively before twisting her lips downwards in a disgruntled scowl, "Fine, no more Dr. Phil at the table."

"Thank you," he said gruffly.

"I still don't know who this Dr. Phil guy is," Ollie muttered.

"My relationship with Ollie is none of your business, Sara, so just butt out of my relationship and try getting one of your own for a change," Laurel told her sister harshly.

"I did try, but then some skank found out he liked me more so she got jealous and threw herself at him like some pathetic loser," the other girl said with false sweetness causing her sister to shoot daggers towards her. "You know the type; no self-respect whatsoever."

"What guy were you trying to hook up with?" Ollie asked curiously. "Maybe I can talk to the guy and see what's up; if she's just some random then maybe it's not as serious with this other girl as you think."

"Don't bother," Laurel bit out before Sara could answer him, "She's just jealous because he and his girlfriend are *completely* devoted to each other," she said with a pointed look towards her sister. "Besides, even if they weren't, he'd be way out of her league anyway."

"I wouldn't say that," Sara said drolly. "After all, have you seen his 'girlfriend'? Talk about a train wreck; she had to get him drunk before he'd even give her the time of day and, even then, she had to practically beg him to sleep with her. In fact, the sex was so boring that he totally forgot they even did it afterwards."

Laurel turned purple with anger while Ollie looked between them in confusion.

Felicity looked up at him with a frown, "Are they talking about…?"

He placed his hand over her mouth and shushed her, "We're staying out of this," he muttered. "Not a word."

"Fine," she whispered back, "However, if Dr. Phil were here, he'd—"

He put his hand over her mouth again, "Hush!"

"I really hate it when you do that," she mumbled against his fingers.

"To be fair, she didn't *have* to get him drunk first," Brandon said, slurping at his smoothie. "I mean, a guy will sleep with anybody as long as they're offering. Even ugly chicks," he shrugged. "Not that she was ugly," he said looking towards Laurel apologetically. "She was pretty hot. I'm just saying that *if* she was ugly, any guy would still do her as long as he could turn off the lights, or at least put a bag over her head or something."

Sara snorted while Laurel turned her burning eyes towards the other man.

"And again, I meant that in general terms; guys in general," Brandon assured them. "Not naming names or saying the chick in question was fugly or had butterface, I'm just saying that looks don't matter to guys as long as they have a shot at getting a piece. Later on, after the beer goggles wear off; that's when you find yourself grabbing your pants and getting the hell out of Dodge." He looked at Laurel again, "Not to say that's what happened or even if, in fact, it did. I'm just saying that, in general, girls don't have to put in a lot of effort in to land a guy. You can gain a few pounds, leave off the makeup, wear ratty underwear; long as you smell good, we're a sure thing."

"McNamara has no sense of self-preservation," McKenna sighed next to Tommy and Felicity.

"Well, we do so we're staying out of it," Tommy muttered back. "I suggest you do the same."

"So you know this guy they're talking about?" Ollie asked Brandon curiously.

"Vaguely," he smirked. "He used to come to my bonfires to troll for random hook ups. Until recently, of course," he gave Laurel a respectful look. "He's now in a mature and responsible relationship with a very attractive woman who I am most definitely *not* slut shaming…even though he did dry hump her in front of everybody. Not that I'm judging," he assured her quickly. "I would never shame any girl who wanted to be a slut because sluts, in my opinion, are great. I deeply respect all slu—ow!" He winced as Tommy, unable to take it anymore, sent a sharp kick to his shin from under the table.

"Knock it off," he hissed.

"Damn," Brandon said, looking under the table while rubbing his leg, "Dude, I think you broke the skin."

"I'll break more than that if you keep saying 'slu—', um, that word," he said carefully.

"Yeah, because this isn't the kind of subject we need to be talking about right now, do we?" McKenna told him with a hard look as she hitched her chin towards Felicity pointedly.

"I was just joking, damn," he said contritely as he continued to rub his shin.

"Just one more thing; you guys were talking about Danny, right?" Ollie said knowingly as Laurel's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red. He turned to Sara with a slightly patronizing look, "I thought so; that guy's a real scumbag and the girls he hooks up with are total skanks." He sobered up slightly and looked at Felicity, "Not that I'm, um, 's-word' shaming either." He then turned back to Sara, "I'm just saying the guy's a player and that there's no way a girl who had any kind of self-respect would hook up with him."

"No, I agree," Sara said wide-eyed, "*Totally*." She turned to her sister, "Hey, did you know Laurel dated Danny freshman year?"

"You dated that guy?" Ollie asked, looking at her with a frown.

"I—" the other woman began.

Sara chuckled, "She did a little more than date him. He was her fir—"

"I think we should change the subject," Tommy said quickly as the looks between the sisters grew increasingly hostile. "Where were we on the Big Bear situation…?"

"Ollie and I would love to go," Laurel said tightly, looking directly at her sister as she said it. "A romantic getaway sounds perfect."

"I'm in, too," Sara said blithely.

"No, you're staying home," Laurel said firmly. "You're still grounded remember? The only reason mom even let you out of the house is because dad had to go into work today and she didn't want to have to deal with you bouncing off the walls."

"Why are you grounded?" Ollie asked curiously.

"Shoplifting," Laurel said pertly before her sister could answer. "She got busted stealing clothes at the mall."

"Why were you shoplifting?" Ollie asked her with a furrowed brow. "If you wanted something you could've just asked me and I would've given you the money."

"I wasn't shoplifting, it was an accident," Sara said tightly.

"Bullcrap," Laurel snorted. "She got caught stealing trashy lingerie from Victoria's Secret. Why I have no idea," she added, "It's not like anyone would ever want to see them on her."

"Laurel," Ollie turned to her with a hard look.

"It's true," the other woman said blithely, "What guy would want to go out with someone who dresses like a skater punk straight out of an Avril Lavigne video?"

"That's really unnecessary, Laurel," Ollie said with a scowl.

"And I like Avril Lavigne," Felicity offered. "Plus I think the streaks in your hair are cool."

"Thank you," Sara said, tucking a lock of lime green and black hair behind her ear.

"They're extensions," Laurel muttered.

"So what if they are? And, for the record, I wasn't shoplifting!" she said angrily.

"Then why did dad have to call in a favor to bail you out of trouble?" Laurel asked archly.

"I was trying on some stuff and I forgot I had it on, that's all," the younger girl said, her cheeks flushed crimson. "I wasn't trying to leave without paying; I just lost track of time and realized I was late for dinner so I grabbed my stuff and rushed out. They caught me at the door and when I tried to explain wouldn't believe me. They called my dad and he had to come down and explain it to them. I got grounded," she glared at her sister, "because Laurel had to stick her nose in it and tell them it wasn't the first time I'd shoplifted which was a lie."

"I didn't have to lie, Sara," Laurel said with a sharp look and a flip of her hair. "All he had to do is look in your drawer when you got home; the evidence was all there. You're just mad because you got caught, that's all."

"Bet you're beginning to regret inviting them to Big Bear now…"McKenna murmured.

"Can't catch a fuckin' break," Tommy sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Maybe we should go to Big Bear some other time," Ollie said looking at Tommy apologetically. "You guys should go without us and I'll head down by myself later in the week."

"Just because Sara can't go doesn't mean we can't," Laurel said quickly.

His mouth tightened slightly, "It wouldn't be fair to Sara."

"She made her bed; why should we miss out because Sara screwed up?" She asked him, "Again. Like she always does? No," Laurel said firmly, "We're going."

"And how exactly are you going to swing that?" Sara asked, batting her eyelashes innocently. "There's no way mom and dad will go for it."

"Mom won't have a problem with it," the other girl said confidently.

"Bullshit," Sara said with a snort. "But even if you are right and Mom will let you go, *Dad* will lock you away and throw away the key if he finds out you're even thinking of going out of town on 'a romantic getaway', especially if it's with Oliver."

Oliver winced at that but didn't say anything because, let's face it, she wasn't wrong.

"Then I won't tell them," Laurel threw back. "And neither will you."

"And why would I agree with that?" Sara asked archly.

"Because, well, first off they won't believe you," Laurel said pointedly. "You lie about so much crap you've lost all credibility at this point. Secondly, because if you do rat me out, the next time you go sneaking out in the middle of the night to hang out with the rest of the losers at the skate park I'm telling Dad on you."

"Okay, that's it! Enough!" Ollie snapped causing everyone to look at him in surprise except Tommy.

The reason was he knew what was coming as he watch the other man's expression get darker and darker as the sister's bickered back and forth. Ollie was usually a fairly quiet and laidback kind of guy, not quite as Hang 10 as Brandon, but fairly even keeled most of the time. However, he could get rowdy on occasion and had been known to go off or lay someone on their ass when they pushed him too far. He and Ollie had been in more than one barroom brawl together and he'd recognized the warning signs the minute Laurel started getting highhanded with both him and her sister.

Apparently Laurel had never seen that side of him though because she was staring at him in openmouthed shock, "Ollie-!"

"Cool it, Laurel!" he snapped, causing her to blink in surprise. His mouth twisted in a grimace and he shot Tommy a look of apology, "This is Felicity's birthday and we're not going to ruin it any more than it already has been. Sorry," he looked at the younger girl as he spoke before bringing his gaze back up to Tommy, "As for Big Bear, sorry man; much as I'd love to go, I think I should stay close to home. At least for now." There was a hint of warning in his expression as she shot Laurel a look causing her eyebrows to draw together.

Laurel's face fell a little as some silent message passed between them and she looked to the younger girl in embarrassment, "Ollie's right; it was totally inappropriate and I'm sorry if our arguing upset you."

"Me, too," Sara said, her eyes reflecting deep regret. "I was acting like a total bitch just now and that's not fair to you."

"That's okay," Felicity said with a slight upturn of her lips. "Fights among close sibling sets such as sisters are completely normal. You just have to learn to accept each other for your differences while celebrating your individual strengths." She looked at Tommy, "That one was from Oprah since you said no more Dr. Phil. She did an interview with Wynonna and Ashley Judd a couple of weeks ago on her show."

"Now that one I actually got," Ollie said with a slight grin as his face melted in amusement.

She looked over to the sisters, "Oh, and even though it's off subject, she did an interview with Sharon Stone last Thursday on a near death experience she had inside an MRI."

"Sharon Stone is hot," Brandon said bobbing his head appreciatively, "For a cougar anyway."

She looked to Sara, "If you like scary stuff it was really positive but, at the same time, pretty creepy because her eyes kept getting big and she kept waving her hands all over the place but I'm fairly certain she was just looped out on pain meds or something." She frowned up at Tommy, "You were at your guitar lesson so I was stuck listening to Mrs. Mack talk about angels for like two hours afterwards and then she made me watch Touched by an Angel with her even though I wanted to watch Degrassi; The Next Generation instead. It was the rerun of the episode where Paige goes to the frat party and loses her license after she crashes the car she stole from the guy who date raped her. She wouldn't let me watch it though because there was drinking and sex and stuff and she said it was the devil's temptation so instead we got stuck watching that box set of DVDs she got from Malcolm for Christmas." She wrinkled her nose, "There is only so much Roma Downey a person can take before that stuff gets annoying."

"How does she say that much stuff at one time without ever having to take a breath?" Sara asked in bemusement as she tilted her head at the younger girl.

"I don't know," McKenna said rolling her shoulders.

"Do you guys watch Degrassi?" she asked the group, "'Cause if you do, you should check out that episode because there was a guy on there that looked a lot like Ollie," Felicity said, blinking up at him behind her thick glasses, "Like a lot."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

She nodded, "You should think about going into acting. You'd probably be really good at it."

"You think?" he asked with a slightly arrogant grin as his chest puffed out a bit at that.

"Sure," she nodded. "You'd need to do something about your hair first though."

Ollie's face fell and everyone started snickering, the tense mood lifted all at once.

"Ollie? Can we talk for a minute outside?" Laurel asked with a vulnerable expression.

"Sure," he nodded then looked to Tommy, "Be right back, bro."

"Take your time," he said, waving him off then watched their progress as they made their way out of the restaurant and into the parking lot.

He could see the tension between the two but it was also obvious that, even though they were fighting, Ollie was really invested in Laurel. He watched through the windows as the two talked, their heads tilted towards each other as Ollie gently laid his hand first on her elbow then up to her shoulder.

Yeah, he wasn't happy with her at the moment, that was obvious, but he clearly did care for her. A lot. Ollie had always been a very touchy-feely guy, but he'd never been gentle with a girl before.

No, not gentle, he corrected mentally; tender.

For all his playboy ways, Ollie was always very respectful of the women he was with. He may have slept with them but he never lied and was never rough or abusive. He was a good guy, just a little careless with their feelings some times. Not with Laurel though. With Laurel he was more than gentle, he was tender. Despite his obvious annoyance at her earlier outburst, his eyes was soft as they looked down at her and even though he couldn't hear him he knew just from the expression on his face that he was speaking to her in low, hushed tones. This wasn't a fling, it wasn't the 'revenge relationship' Felicity and he had planned for them; Ollie actually cared about her. So much so he wondered why he never saw it before.

Or maybe he just wasn't looking hard enough.

With other girls and acquaintances, Ollie was very physical. He was always flirting, dropping kisses on girl's cheeks, throwing his arm around his buddies and pulling them into a manly hug. With Laurel though, he always kept his hands to himself. Every time she'd approach them and they'd start tearing into each other, he'd shove his hands in his pockets or lean away from her. Tommy assumed that was because he genuinely didn't like her very much but the truth was, a truth he was only now beginning to realize, the reason he maintained such a controlled distance from her was so he wouldn't be tempted to touch her.

Because he didn't want to step on Tommy's toes by bagging his Dream Girl.

"Damn," He muttered. God, he was such a dick. Not Ollie; him. He was so caught up in his own stupid ideas about 'Dream Girls' and what he wanted that he never even noticed that this entire time they'd been crushing on the same girl.

"Something wrong?" Felicity asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No," he said, picking up her hand and giving it a quick kiss before sighing. "Just realizing what a screw up and bad friend I've been."

"You're not a screw up or a bad friend," she scolded.

"This has been a terrible birthday," he said, closing his eyes in regret. "I wanted to make it special for you and all I've done is—"

"You haven't done anything," she said cutting him off, "Stuff happens. I don't care about all the stupid petty stuff. People fight, things happen. And today was a great birthday."

"Felicity—" he chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

"I got to ride in a red convertible," she told him, "I got to eat giant pancakes, have a whole restaurant sing me a birthday song, and Sara got a sandwich named after her."

"That was cool," Sara agreed.

"You got to ask about the cheddar ranch pork rinds," she pointed out.

"Big Earl did say he'd think about it," he murmured.

"We got to go to mini-golf and Brandon got that awesome hole in one at the windmill."

Brandon nodded, "Apparently I have a natural talent for the game. Must be from watching my old man play all these years." He perked up, "Who knows? Maybe I'll even go pro?"

"Pro Putt-Putt?" McKenna asked archly.

He shrugged, "They have professional dog food tasters and guys who play video games for a living, why can't they have professional mini-golf?"

"Professional dog food tasters?" she asked incredulously. "That's not a real thing," she insisted. "You're just making that up."

"No, I'm not." Brandon looked over to Felicity, "Am I? Tell her."

"We saw it on Letterman," she nodded. "It was this British guy and Dave made him eat three whole cans of Alpo." She scowled, "He was kind of rude about it, too; whenever the man tried to explain what he did, he would tell him to shut up and just eat the dog food."

"I love Dave," Brandon grinned.

McKenna turned on Tommy with an unhappy expression, "You let her stay up late to watch that crap?"

"Well," he shifted uncomfortably, "The Stupid Human Tricks segment is pretty funny."

"I like the Top Ten List best though," Felicity told her.

"I thought we agreed to get her away from watching so much TV this summer," she fussed at him, "And what about that 10 o'clock bedtime thing you were trying out?"

"It's not like we watch every night," he said defensively. "And we were in bed, we just weren't asleep yet."

"Yeah, we fell asleep watching it in Felicity's room," Brandon told her before turning to Tommy, "That flat screen of hers is awesome. Since we're trying to curb the TV time, maybe we should think about hooking up the X-Box in her room instead."

"We could," Tommy shrugged.

"I'd be okay with that!" the younger girl agreed readily. "We could finish playing that game where we got to kill all the mutagenic zombies and the alien Rottweiler things with the split open heads that had tentacles and stuff coming out. That thing was sick!"

"That game is pretty sick," Brandon agreed. "Hey, we should pick up the movie too and watch it later!"

"Heck yeah," Felicity nodded heartily.

"No!" The older girl said firmly. "Felicity doesn't need to be staying up late watching all that sick crap. You'll twist her brain or something!"

"I like horror movies and stuff," Sara offered tentatively.

"Yeah, well, we already know you're dark and twisted," the other girl said dismissively. "Your dad leaves files on the coffee table with pictures of dead bodies all over the place so no wonder you're completely desensitized, but Felicity isn't." McKenna turned back to Tommy, "You said yourself that she has nightmares; why would you let her watch that? And how is her playing video games better than staying in the house cooped up all day watching television?"

"Um, because it teaches hand/eye coordination…?" Tommy said slowly.

"And Brandon, Tommy, and I were talking about altering the game so that it shows even more gross stuff." Felicity offered matter-of-factly. "We're even thinking of changing some of the levels around and programing in some cheats." She nodded to the guys, "They're going to come up with changes to the storyline while I hack the code."

"Wait, you can do that?" Sara interjected looking at Felicity in amazement.

"Uh huh," she nodded.

"Yeah, see, that's educational, plus she's learning strategy, and teaching us computer crap," Brandon nodded. "Oh, and she's getting really good at sniping zombies. When the zombie apocalypse happens she'll be totally prepared thanks to us. How many other thirteen year old kids can say that?"

"Any one of them that owns a video game console!" she snapped. "I cannot believe you; we talked about this," McKenna said, her expression a mask of stern disapproval, "Fresh air, Tommy; sunshine, exercise!"

"I'm taking her to Big Bear," he said contritely. "There'll be plenty of sunshine and exercise there."

She ignored his protests and leveled an accusatory finger in his direction, "There is more to taking care of a kid than playing video games and having her make you and your 'bro' snacks all day!"

"You told her about the cupcakes?" Tommy asked Felicity with a wounded expression.

The younger girl shrugged, "It was her recipe."

"Those were some awesome cupcakes, by the way" Brandon said slowly before looking at McKenna hopefully, "Got any more recipes you can share with Felicity? I'm a big fan of anything involving caramel and apples."

"Oh shut up," McKenna told him, "Everything's awesome to you. You know, getting her outside, keeping her on a schedule; it isn't just for her benefit," she said meeting Tommy's eyes again. "You said you wanted to start developing better habits yourself before school starts so you could get into Harvard. You can't do that if you're staying up all night eating junk and sitting in front of a video game. That's just as destructive as partying all the time was. Also, with Felicity's allergies and stuff, she needs as much fresh air and exercise as she can get to build up her immune system."

"Sorry, you're right," Tommy told her repentantly. "I promise we'll limit our TV time from here on out and leave the game console at home when we go to the cabin."

Brandon made a disgruntled noise. McKenna leveled a glare at him and he grimaced, "Fine."

"Are you sure you guys aren't hooking up?" Sara asked curiously, "Because you two sounded exactly like my mom and dad just now." She shook her head slightly, "I mean, you're not just married; you're a thirty year mortgage and 2.5 kids kind of married."

"They really are," Brandon agreed, "It's like living in a sitcom some days; Tommy is the bumbling but fun dad, McKenna is the hot but strict mom, and Felicity and I are the mischievous little scamps that drive them both batty with our hilarious hijinks."

"Bumbling but fun dad?" Tommy repeated, taking umbrage. "I'm not 'bumbling'. What the hell kind of word is 'bumbling' anyway?" he grumbled.

"And I'm not your mother," McKenna said flatly.

"And I'm very grateful for that, trust me," he returned drolly, ignoring Tommy's gripe, "because, *if* you were my mom…" He shook his head, "Yeah; that would be bad."

"And why's that?" she asked archly, "Because I would've drowned you at birth?"

"No," he said smoothly, a smile playing around his lips as he looked at the deep 'V' of her bright white tank top that emphasized her curves and made her olive skin glow. "It would be bad because last week when you came over to Tommy's wearing that black bikini with the little metal thing in the middle," he pointed at the center of his chest while making a circular gesture with his finger, "I nearly wound up giving everybody a free show. I mean, when you took your top off before jumping in the pool…." His smile widened as his eyes locked on her cleavage again, "Although, since we're on the subject of my Oedipal issues anyway, what's your stance on breastfeeding?"

"Jerk!" she growled, tossing a sugar packet at his head.

He batted it away handily and winked, "What can I say? It was a really great bikini and milk does a body good."

"You disgust me," she told him with a grimace.

He merely smirked and wriggled his eyebrows comically before using his tongue in a suggestive manner to pull his straw into his mouth.

"What's the difference between dating and hooking up?" Felicity asked suddenly.

Tommy looked down at her helplessly, his mind completely blanking out, "Uhh…McKenna?" he said slowly, looking to the only other person at the table that was closest to being an adult at the moment.

When it came to taking care of Felicity, he was willing to go the distance. He gave up partying, was willing to adopt a more mature lifestyle, but giving Felicity the 'hooking up' versus dating speech was not his area of expertise. After his last attempt to talk to her about stuff like that…

…yeah.

Tommy might not be the smartest guy in the room, but he at least had sense enough to know when it was time to hand off the baton.

However…

"What?" McKenna asked with a belligerent expression as she folded her arms across her chest, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

He frowned, "Aren't you, um…" he waved at Felicity helplessly as he looked to her in confusion.

She arched a delicately curved eyebrow at him, "Aren't I what?"

"'Aren't you what' what?" Ollie asked as he and Laurel returned to the table and slid in beside them.

Tommy noted that he and Laurel both seemed much more calm and relaxed than they had before they left and, while he was glad Ollie's personal crisis was resolved, his was still going strong.

"Oh, nothing," McKenna said giving Tommy a narrow look. "Just that Tommy asked me to 'help' him with Felicity, which I did," she said testily. "However, even though I tried 'helping' him time and time again, giving him the best advice I could, he keeps taking everything I say and just ignoring it, making him look like the good guy and me into the bad guy."

"But-!" Tommy began, raising his hand to object.

"No!" she told him. "You asked for my help, you asked me to be your friend, your partner in helping with Felicity, but 'helping' is one thing and 'doing your job' is something else entirely."

"But—see—" Tommy tried again.

"I am not the mother!" McKenna burst out. "I know what's going on here, Tommy Merlyn," she said in a dangerous registry as she leveled an accusing finger at him once again. "I have a big family with lots and lots of cousins, and nieces, and nephews, so this is not my first rodeo!"

"Mother?" Laurel repeated in confusion.

"What the hell did you do, dude?" Ollie asked taken aback by the vehemence in McKenna's tone.

Tommy looked at him wild-eyed, "I don't…"

"I'll tell you what he did," McKenna told them, "Somewhere along the way, Tommy decided that I was going to be the mean, boring, disciplinarian mom who gets to make all the rules and do all the hard stuff while he and Mr. Hilarious Hijinks with the Oedipal Complex get to have all the fun parts and stay up late watching Letterman!"

"This is all your fault," Tommy growled casting a dangerous look in Brandon's direction, "You just had to make that crack about her being the mom, didn't you?"

"Dude, I was just trying to let her know how much I appreciated her penchant for tasty eats and boobage," the other man shrugged wide-eyed.

"You shut up!" the incensed woman snapped before turning to Tommy again, "I don't mind helping but I'm not going to be cast into the role of the parent who makes all the rules while you and Brandon get to be the fun dads who let the kid stay up all night long playing video games and eating junk. You told me you wanted to be more responsible, well here you go; handle it!"

"Yeah, this is exactly like my mom and dad," Sara murmured.

"Wait, so I'm a dad, too?" Brandon turned to Tommy in surprise. "I thought only you guys were the parents and I was the fun uncle with no job who lives in the attic or something."

"Fun uncle who lives in the attic?" Laurel repeated slowly, "What kind of family do you come from?"

Tommy felt his mind warp slightly at that, "Uh…? I don't…I mean, I guess, sort of…?" He waivered for a moment, "I mean, she's not really our kid but, in this context, I guess…I mean, seeing as we're all taking care of her then…" his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before saying, "Yeah?"

"Holy shit," Brandon said quietly, looking dumbstruck, "I'm a dad."

"Yeah, this is weird," Sara said staring between the three of them, "Like Twilight Zone weird."

"That's a lot of responsibility," Brandon said looking mildly panicked. "I've never even had a dog before." He looked at Tommy, as close to tears as the other man had ever seen him, "What am I gonna do?"

Ollie looked at them warily, "Okay, before McNamara has a stroke or something, mind filling us in on what we missed?"

"Felicity asked what the difference was between dating and hooking up and Tommy," McKenna bit out, "as usual, tried to get out of it by asking me to handle it because he's chicken shit."

"To be fair the last time I asked him about sex and stuff he yelled at me and said I was never allowed to have sex because I'd either get pregnant or die," Felicity offered. "Also, he wouldn't let me pee."

"What?" Laurel burst out incredulously before turning on him. "Why would you-?"

"Now that—" he pointed in the younger girl's direction, "that was taken completely out of context. What happened was—"

"What happened was you pussied out because you're chicken shit," McKenna repeated.

He opened his mouth to object then faltered, "…yeah, okay, I am."

"Dude," Ollie's eyebrows drew together as he gave Tommy a disapproving look.

He scowled at his best friend, "Okay, so you try answering her and see how you do!"

"Fine!" Ollie snorted then turned to the younger girl, "What's the question again?"

Felicity looked up at him, her bright blue eyes huge under the thick lenses she wore, "What's the difference between dating and hooking up?"

Ollie stared at her blankly, still as a statue, not saying a word.

"Told you so," Tommy muttered resentfully.

"We should get a dog," Brandon said apropos to nothing, still looking pale and dumbstruck. "I always thought if I had kids, I'd get them a dog to play with. Pets teach kids responsibility and I always wanted a dog, you know, they…kids…kids like dogs. Dogs are good." He paused, "Or maybe a cat. Kids like cats. Or a…turtle. I don't know."

"I think you guys broke Brandon," Sara said still looking at all of them in a mixture of confusion and amusement.

Laurel rolled her eyes at all of them and looked to Tommy, "Do you need some help? Because I can handle this if you can't."

"Because Laurel definitely knows a lot about hooking up with guys," Sara breathed causing her sister's mouth to tighten in annoyance.

"Sara…" she warned.

"No; no, McKenna is right," Tommy interrupted before they wound up with another Lance sister's catfight on their hands. He took a deep breath, "this is my responsibility, so…" he cleared his throat and looked down at Felicity.

"Okay," he said rubbing the bridge of his nose as he gathered his thoughts, "Uh, so dating is when two people make plans to go out with each other and, um…" he paused, "Let me start over." He shifted in his seat, sitting up straight and squaring his shoulders in determination, "Okay, it used to be that when a guy liked a girl, he would ask her out on a date—"

"Wait—hold up," McKenna said stopping him. "What do you mean, 'used to be'?"

He looked at her with a frown, "I just meant that back in the day—"

"No."

"But—"

"No!"

"Are you going to let me explain this to her or not?" Tommy demanded.

"Not if you keep screwing it up!" she told him. "You're making it sound like people don't date anymore."

"Well, they don't," Ollie said slowly, finding his voice again.

"Yes, they do," Laurel said looking at him askance, "We're dating."

"I mean, yeah; *we* are," the other man said quickly, "but we're the exception. I mean, most people our age just hook up because 'dating' is mostly just for old people." At the hard looks the women were giving him, he swallowed, "*Older* people, I mean. You know, like people in their thirties who are worried about getting married and having kids and stuff."

Good answer, Tommy thought approvingly.

"That's crap," McKenna said flatly.

…Or not.

"Yeah, Ollie," Laurel said with a hint of hostility, "Where did you even come up with that crap?"

The man in question turned to Tommy and Brandon as if seeking moral support.

"Do not drag me into this, man; I have enough on my plate as it is," Like coming up with something better than what you just said, Tommy thought with a sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck wearily.

He needed to come up with something good, too, because his ass was starting to feel like that Dog Food Taster's favorite chew toy.

"Okay," Brandon said at last, "Turtle, definitely a turtle, because we saw that giant Galapagos tortoise at the zoo. That's way better than a dog or a cat because you can ride around on it and it'll live forever, plus you don't have to worry about fleas or taking it for walks or anything. Oh, and as a bonus, they don't chase cars or tear up the furniture with their claws." He frowned, "Turtles don't have claws, right? I've never actually had a turtle before either."

Sara pooched out her bottom lip, "Okay, yeah; he's gone."

"Enough," Tommy said holding out his hands, "I've got this!"

Silence.

"Well?" McKenna prompted after a pregnant pause.

He stared at Felicity's big innocent eyes and rosy cheeks, his confidence wavering, "I'm…I've almost got this."

"The difference between dating and hooking up is that when you hook up with someone all you're interested in is sex without the hassle of getting to know them and dating is when you want to get to know them before jumping into sex."

They all turned to look at Brandon in surprise but he was focused entirely on Felicity.

"See," he began carefully, "most guys, when they're in high school or college, all they see when they look at a girl they just met, are the girls they're missing out on meeting while talking to her. That's why they don't want to be tied down to any one person; you never know when someone better is about to come along. Dating happens when you finally meet that one girl that you really want to stick with for a while because you stop thinking about other girls. In fact, you can't think about any other girl but her and you don't want her thinking about anyone else but you back."

All three women stared at him in varying states of shock.

"Wow," McKenna said quietly.

"So dating is better than hooking up?" Felicity asked curiously.

Brandon frowned and tilted his head in a bird-like manner as he folded his arms on top of the table and leaned forward slightly, "No, I'm not saying that. One isn't necessarily better than the other; it's just about needing different things from different people at different times. Sometimes you meet someone and you have that instant connection but you're just not ready to label it or invest a lot of emotion into it because you don't know what you want yet so you're trying to figure it out by meeting different people and trying new things. Dating is…it's when you think you might know what you want and that other person looks like they might be it, so you gather up your courage to ask them out on a date in the hopes that you can figure it out together."

"What he said," Tommy said dumbly.

Felicity looked at Brandon curiously, "Have you ever dated anybody?"

"Me?" The older boy asked in surprise.

"Yeah, come to think of it I've never heard about you going out with anybody before," McKenna said with a frown.

"That's because I haven't really," Brandon shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I've hooked up with people but, like I said, sometimes you have to look around a little before you decide what it is you want. Sometimes you never do, and sometimes you find out that you don't want to choose at all."

"Ah," Felicity nodded knowingly.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Sara asked in confusion.

"What does what mean?" He asked.

"That you don't want to choose?" she elaborated. "Does that mean that you keep hooking up with random people forever, or…?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Sometimes it just means that you don't want to be with just one person or that you're not sure if you want to be with a girl, or a guy, or both—sometimes neither."

"Wait, what?" Ollie blinked in surprise.

"Are you…?" Laurel asked carefully.

"Am I what?" Brandon asked her.

"Um," her brow furrowed and she took a careful breath, "gay?"

"No," he chuckled.

"Oh," Laurel nodded and Ollie relaxed next to her.

"I mean, that's not to say I haven't done stuff with guys before, just that I'm not gay," Brandon said easily.

Everyone froze.

"Oh," Laurel said quietly.

"I'm confused…" Ollie said slowly.

"I mean, if I had to label it, I'd say I was sort of bi but not really," Brandon said off-handedly before turning to Felicity. "Bi means—"

"Bisexual, I know," she nodded, not looking the least bit affected by his revelation. "The Kinsey Scale; they had that on Oprah, Dr. Phil, and in health class," she told him. "I figured that's what you meant when you said some people never feel the need to choose. So what's your number?"

"I'd say I'm more than a one but less than a two," he answered her without hesitation.

"What are you talking about?" Tommy asked still feeling like he'd just been run over by the shocking revelation bus.

…that then backed up so it could hit him again just in case.

"The Kinsey Scale," Felicity told him. "It's a human sexuality sliding scale that goes from zero, meaning people who identify themselves as exclusively heterosexual with no experience with or desire for sexual activity with their same sex, to six, for those who would identify themselves as exclusively homosexual with no experience with or desire for sexual activity with those of the opposite sex, and one through five for those who would identify themselves with varying levels of desire for sexual activity with either sex, including incidental or occasional desire for sexual activity with the same sex." She gestured to Brandon, "Brandon is between a one to two, leaning more towards two, meaning he considers himself predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual."

"Wait, how can you be gay?" Ollie asked suddenly. "I've seen you hook up with girls before."

"Dude, I just told you, I'm not gay," he repeated. "If I was gay I wouldn't have a problem telling people that I am, but I'm not; I still like girls."

"But she—you—both of you just said *you* had sex with guys," the other man said slowly before shifting uncomfortably, "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Personally, I'm cool either way."

"Like I said; me too," Brandon said dryly. "That's kind of the point."

"Now I'm confused," Tommy mumbled.

Brandon sighed, "Okay, in other words I mostly like girls but, every once in a while, *on occasion*, I've hooked up with a guy. Not often, didn't really mean anything beyond that, didn't bother me, didn't bother him; it was just a thing."

"But what does that *mean* you hooked up with a guy?" Ollie asked, still looking horribly confused.

"Well, if you're asking if we had all out butt sex the answer is no, but we did stuff," he said with a hint of annoyance. "I'm not ashamed of it or anything. Like I said, it was just one of those things. We both felt a need, liked each other, stuff happened, we had a moment, and that was that. If you're asking how many guys I've hooked up with the answer is more than a couple but mostly I've been with girls and if I was to date someone, while I'm not saying I couldn't date a guy, I'd probably be more interested in dating a girl at this point. Later, who knows?"

"In other words, heteroflexible," Felicity interjected.

"What?" Now it was Ollie asking the question.

"It's a term that falls between bi-curious and bisexual that's characterized by minimal homosexual activity in an otherwise primarily heterosexual sexual orientation distinguishing it from bisexuality. I saw it on Gilmore Girls," Felicity told him, "Also on Sex and the City. Oh, and Ally McBeal."

"Again with the television," McKenna said with a note of exasperation.

"At least it's educational television," Sara pointed out.

Laurel's brow furrowed, "I have got to start watching more Gilmore Girls."

She turned to Tommy, "But, for the record, I don't think Dr. Phil's done a show on that yet. He mostly just covers stuff like marital problems and out of control teenagers, but Oprah might do something on it eventually. Oh! Or Ellen! We should start watching her, too. I think Mrs. Mack will like it since she dances a lot on that show."

"McKenna's right," Tommy muttered, "We have got to start getting you out of the house more."

"But I don't get it," Ollie insisted.

"What don't you get, Ollie?" Laurel asked, her eyebrows drawing together in growing annoyance.

"It," he said with a deepening frown. "I mean, I get gay, and I get straight, but…" He paused, "I just…I don't get it."

"Ollie, you know people can be bi," she said snappishly.

"That's true. I still remember that whole conversation you had at Jeremy's where you were talking about that very thing. What was it you said?" McKenna asked rolling her eyes at him, "That being Ollie Queen and having to please so many women was hard work and that it was only fair that girls should be willing to take on some of the work load by doing each other while you supervised?"

"You're a pig!" Laurel said in disgust.

"First off, that was a joke!" he insisted. "Secondly, that just applies to girls, not guys."

Her mouth fell open slightly before she drew herself up and glowered at him, "What?"

"Girls can be bi but guys…" he shrugged, "Look, okay; it's a hardware versus software thing."

"What?" All four women and Brandon said at once.

Tommy, however, kept his mouth shut, not because he was any more enlightened than Ollie was, but because, as the saying goes, you don't have to be faster than the hungry lion, just faster than the other guy behind you.

Yeah, if there's one thing he inherited from his old man, it was his sense of when to keep his mouth shut and let the other guy take the hit instead.

"Okay, so girls," Ollie began, "girls have software. You guys have all this good stuff going on and plenty of different parts plus, because you already know where everything is and how it works, you can just go for it."

"We can just 'go for it'?" Laurel repeated incredulously.

"I really wish we were recording this right now," Sara said under her breath.

"Yeah, you can go for it," he told them. "Your software works with pretty much anything but guys, we have hardware," he told her. "While girls have all these options, we've only got that one thing." He frowned, "I mean, with hardware…there are only a limited number of places you can plug into and then stuff starts getting kind of…tricky."

The first words to pop into Tommy's head were, 'God, I am so glad I wasn't the one who said that out loud first.'

"Ollie!" Laurel said in outrage.

"I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with it, swear to God!" He said quickly. "I have no problem with what people do in their personal lives and I have no problem with gay people, lesbians, bi; whatever! I'm just trying to figure out how this works!"

McKenna eyed him dangerously, "What do you mean, how does it work?"

"I mean—" he made a helpless grunt of frustration before lowering his voice and addressing Brandon directly, "I mean, how do you go from a girl, to a guy, to back to a girl again? They're like completely different things. Not to keep harping on the hardware/software thing but doesn't your programming get all screwed up?"

"Programming…?" Now even Tommy was feeling confused, "What do you mean programming?" he found himself asking against his will.

"I mean, girls are soft—"

"Don't do the 'girls are software' thing again," McKenna warned him.

"Fine," Ollie said in aggravation. "I was just trying to say that guys and girls are a lot different, that's all."

"They're not that different," Brandon told him. "I mean, they are; they're completely different experiences, yeah, but—and not to be graphic or anything—hands and mouths both work pretty much the same no matter who or what you're dealing with. The only real difference is that sometimes one might have a five o'clock shadow and the other one hopefully doesn't. Although. Again, different strokes…so to speak."

Ollie's brow furrowed at that, "But, I guess what I'm asking is why; why go for a guy at all even if it's just every once in a while?"

"I can't believe we're talking about this," Laurel said with a huff, glaring at her boyfriend.

"I can't believe we're talking about this in the middle of my family's bakery," McKenna said, presumably looking around to make sure her aunt and cousin weren't listening in.

It was after lunch but well before five o'clock rush hour so the place was fairly empty and their table was far enough from the counter that they had a reasonable amount of privacy. While he was fairly certain her cousin Vicki and Aunt Betulia wouldn't have a problem with anything they were saying, it was still a very personal conversation to be having out in public.

Brandon, however, didn't appear to be the least bit embarrassed, merely flummoxed by Ollie's question.

He knew Ollie wasn't lying when he said he was cool with people of all sexual orientations; he was one of the most open-minded guys he knew, in fact. The truth was, sad to say, that in the privileged realm of the one percent, racism, sexism, homophobia, and a lot of other phobias and isms ran rampant. People who talked a good game in public, tended to show very different attitudes in private.

The Queens were one of the few who lived up to the legacy the Dearden's passed onto them through Moira. They were a political powerhouse of crusading democrats in the tradition of the Kennedy's. His own father, Malcolm, was exceptional in that one regard as well. Although he was a lifelong republican, he was a fairly moderate one. He knew, for example, that both their families supported gay issues and even provided comprehensive benefits for their employee's same-sex partners and families. His dad's best friend (other than Robert) and CFO, Michael Graham, was gay. After Malcolm took off to the ashram, it was Michael who stayed that first night with him and checked in with Mrs. Mack about how he was doing. He wasn't around nearly as much as the Queen's, but he and his partner were always there for the big stuff.

He knew—or, at least, kind of knew what Ollie meant though. He couldn't quite put it into words and, going by the murderous expressions on the girls' faces, Ollie definitely couldn't, but he got the general gist of it at least.

If he were forced to translate for Ollie (and he had a feeling that was coming next), he'd say that comparing guys to girls was like comparing, not hardware to software, or apples to oranges, but fishing to skydiving. They were both fun, you could like both, but you didn't whip out a fishing pole and cast a line while falling out of an airplane. Those activities called for two completely different mindsets and, once you've jumped out of a plane, spending all day sitting in a boat probably wouldn't have the same thrill it once had.

He thought about that for a second.

Well, okay, so maybe that didn't work after all. Now he was confusing himself.

Still, it was kind of a shock. It's not every day that a guy you thought you knew drops this kind of bombshell so of course they were confused; both of them. It was a lot to take in. They weren't being dicks, they were just trying to wrap their heads around it, and it's not that either of them thought any differently about Brandon or planned on dropping him as a friend. He couldn't speak for Ollie, but he didn't care what floated the other man's boat or popped his chute…so to speak. Also, he wasn't saying he'd never admired another man's parachute before, just that he was never interested in strapping one on for himself. He was a man in the boat kind of guy, that's all. That particular activity held all the thrills he was looking for.

He shifted his eyes towards an incensed McKenna and gulped.

If she called on him to try to translate this shitstorm of Ollie's…

Yeah, parachutes and boats weren't gonna cut it. He was a dead man.

"I got it," Brandon said at last with a nod. He looked at Ollie, "You know how you have a thing for brunettes and Tommy has that weakness for blondes?"

"What?" Laurel asked only to have Ollie wave her into silence.

"Yeah?" he said carefully.

"Well, every once in a while—not often mind you—but you look up and across the room…" he looked to the door then back to the other man, "Redhead."

Ollie's head fell back at that, "Oh! Okay," he nodded.

"I'm just—what just happened?" McKenna asked looking between them.

"I don't know," Laurel said in confusion before turning to Tommy. "What…?"

"You don't want to ask me because I was going to go with fishing and skydiving," Tommy said quickly.

"Now I'm really confused…and somewhat disturbed because now I really want to figure out what skydiving has to do with fishing and redheads," Sara muttered.

"Not to mention the blondes and brunettes," McKenna added. She looked to Felicity, "Did you get any of that?"

"Yeah, but then again I live with them; I'm pretty much acclimated to it by now," she said wryly.

"Mind explaining it to us then?" Laurel asked her.

"I would, but it's really hard to translate boy-speak into girl-speak," she told them. "It's like trying to get an IBM PC jr. and an Apple IIe to work together without using BASIC as the communications handshaking protocol."

Both girls just stared.

"I give up," McKenna said flatly.

"Okay, so wait," Ollie said suddenly, "We've known each other a long time."

"Yeah," Brandon shrugged.

"We've done sports together, gone to the gym, surfed…"

"Yeah," he said again.

"Did you ever once…" his voice petered off and he lifted his eyebrow slightly.

"Oh my God," Laurel breathed, hiding her face in her hands.

"What? Think you were hot?" Brandon asked with a snort.

"I mean…yeah," he shrugged.

Laurel reached out and smacked him on the arm, "Ollie!"

"What? It's a legitimate question!" he argued jokingly, holding his hands up in self-defense. "After all, I am the most attractive guy he knows, right? Why wouldn't he want a piece of this?"

"Wait!" Tommy heard himself saying, "What about me?"

"What about you?" Sara asked.

Aw, fuck it.

"I mean," he said turning to both men, "I was there, too. I was at the gym and the beach and stuff."

"Tommy, it was a joke, man," Ollie chuckled.

"I got that," he said reasonably, "but still, there was some truth in there. I mean, why would you assume that Brandon would find you more attractive than me?"

"Oh, this is getting good," Sara said leaning forward in anticipation.

Ollie scratched his head, grin still in place, "Well, I mean, that's fairly obvious, isn't it?"

"What's obvious?" he demanded.

"I'm obviously more his type."

"Ol—" Laurel began before McKenna cut her off by placing her hand on her shoulder.

The other girl's eyes twinkled as she looked between the three men, "No, Sara's right; this is getting good."

Tommy frowned at that, "How are you more his type than I am?"

"Dude…" Ollie said slowly.

"No, I wanna know."

"When was the last time you worked out?" Ollie asked pointedly.

"I work out," he scoffed.

"No, you don't," the other man snorted.

Tommy glowered at him, "What are you talking about? I'm in great shape!"

"Okay," Ollie said roundly.

"What are you trying to say?" he demanded.

He gave a short laugh, sighed, then lifted the bottom of his shirt exposing his abs, "See?"

"Ew! Put your shirt back on, dude!" Tommy said in disgust, "People eat here!"

"He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to," Felicity said, tilting her head to the side.

Tommy's mouth tightened and he slapped his hand over her eyes.

"Hey!" she objected, pulling his hand away and pouting slightly as Ollie tucked his shirt down.

"I'm just saying that there's a definite home field advantage going on over here, that's all," Ollie told him. "Me and Brandon surf, we work out, and you…do other stuff."

"Oh yeah?" Tommy rolled up the sleeve of his tee shirt and curled his bicep before slapping the muscle, "Look at that! That's…" he stared at it, "There's some definition in there…somewhere." As Ollie began to snicker he turned to Brandon, "Okay, so which one of us do you think is hotter; me or him?"

"Honestly man…" Brandon said reluctantly, shaking his head slightly, "I don't really think of either of you like that."

"Right," Ollie said confidently. "It's okay, man. I'm not gonna get mad and Tommy'll get over it; just go ahead and tell him."

"You're a dick," Tommy said flatly as he looked at Ollie.

His (former) best friend shrugged, "It is what it is, dude."

"No, seriously," Brandon told them, "I haven't been with a lot of guys but when I have gone for it I mostly preferred Hispanic or black dudes."

McKenna gaped at him, "That's, um…"

"Hot," Laurel said looking awestruck.

"Yeah," the other girl breathed.

"I'm totally picturing that in my head right now," Sara said quietly as all three of the older girls nodded as one.

"But if you had to pick someone, right here and now, who would you pick?" Tommy demanded.

"McKenna," Brandon said casually.

"Really?" she said in mild surprise.

"Yeah," he drawled looking over at her, "Like I said; you're hot."

As McKenna flushed crimson, Ollie made an irritated noise, "No, between me and Tommy, who would you pick?"

Laurel shook her head at him, "Seriously?"

"Hey, I'm just saying," Ollie told her. "Besides, now it's a matter of principle."

"Principle," she repeated.

"Yeah, because I work hard to look this good and all Tommy does is a couple of laps in the pool and play video games."

"Hey!" the slacker in question objected.

"It's true," Ollie told him.

"There is more to being attractive than just being ripped," Tommy told him. "And it's not like I'm a troll or something. This," he waved his hand in front of his face, "is the full package; beauty, brains, and a sunny disposition."

"I'm not disputing that," the other man told him. "If anyone asked I'd be the first to say that Tommy Merlyn is a charming son of a bitch and a mighty fine specimen to boot—"

"Thank you!" Tommy harrumphed as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat.

"He's just no Ollie Queen," the other man said with a smirk.

"Oh, this is on," Tommy said in a low voice. "You're going down, Queen."

"There is an obvious joke here that I will not be saying out loud," Sara said pursing her lips.

"What joke?" Felicity asked innocently.

"Don't," Tommy said leveling his finger warningly at the other girl before turning to Brandon, "Choose; me or him."

"I don't want to choose, dude," Brandon told him.

"You have to choose," Ollie told him.

"You do know you're being ridiculous, right?" Laurel said looking between them, "Both of you."

"Hey, I don't back down from a fight," Ollie told her before looking to both his friends, "If you need me to take off my shirt again—"

Tommy threw him a dirty look, "Keep your shirt on, dude! I told you, nobody wants to see that shit while they're eating!"

"You just don't want me to pull out the big guns," Ollie said knowingly, "But if you want to make this a grudge match, I'll go. I'll even take my pants off in the middle of this bitch if that's what it takes."

"Keep your pants on, dude! If you're gonna make me do this then I can manage without the visual," Brandon told him.

"Aww!" Felicity pouted only to wince when Tommy threw her a dirty look, "Sorry."

"Well?" Tommy prompted.

"I'm thinking," Brandon scowled as his eyes shifted between both men.

"Think faster," he said testily.

"Don't rush me, dude; there's a lot of different stuff to consider here and I'm not that good under pressure, especially since I got sober," Brandon told him.

Ollie took a deep breath and leaned forward, his hands coming up as if framing a scene, "Okay, picture this; the world is going to end and the only way to save it is to either do me or Tommy. You have one minute to save the world; go!"

"How is this not rushing me?" Brandon demanded.

"It is what it is, man! Fifty-five seconds on the clock—go!" The other man said stubbornly.

"Wait—time out! So—" he looked between them, "So do I pick within a minute or do I pick and then we have a minute to get it on before the world explodes because, if it's a minute and then–boom-that's more on you guys then on me."

"Wait, what?" Tommy said in confusion.

"Yeah," the other man nodded, "because then it's about me just picking whichever one is quicker on the draw, if you know what I mean, and not necessarily which one I would want to hook up with." He looked between them, "I mean, if it's the world at stake then I'm not gonna be selfish here."

"Well, if you're not worried about foreplay you should definitely pick Ollie then," Laurel told him. At her boyfriend's pointed look, she shrugged, "This is your stupid game, not mine."

He gave her one last chastising look before turning to Brandon, "Okay, so you have one minute to pick but five—ten—"

"Twenty," Tommy offered.

"Thirty minutes to do the deed," Ollie finished. "Now pick!"

Brandon took a deep breath, squinted his eyes, pursed his lips, then spoke.

"Tommy."

"Yes!" He said doing a triumphant fist pump.

"This is bullshit!" Ollie burst out.

"In your face!" he said ignoring the bitter grapes being hurled his way, "I win! Hah!"

McKenna smirked, "You do realize that what you've won is the right to stop the world from exploding by having sex with Brandon, right?"

"Doesn't matter," Tommy said gleefully, "Like Ollie said, it's the principle of the thing."

"I still call bullshit," Ollie said grumpily. "There is no way—no offense," he said looking to Tommy, "that I would take second place here."

"Well, okay; body wise, yeah, you have the advantage," the other man admitted.

Tommy scowled at that, "Hey!"

"But—" Brandon said in a soothing tone, "Tommy has those puppy dog eyes and goofy grin that makes you want to hug him to your chest like a little lost teddy bear."

Tommy's eyebrows drew down at that, "Huh?"

"See, like that face right there," the other man said pointing at him.

"Yeah, I can see that," Ollie said musingly.

"You know what? Fuck both of you," Tommy snorted as both men broke out in wide grins.

"I think the point was that I was supposed to—" Brandon began playfully.

"Okay—ha ha, now knock it off," he said rolling his eyes. "Now what are we doing here?"

"I guess we head back to the house and pack," Brandon shrugged.

"Are you coming?" Tommy asked, turning to McKenna who shook her head regretfully.

"Not this weekend," she told him. "I was planning on spending the night over at Sara's place but maybe some other time. I'll talk to my mom and see if she's cool with it. I don't think she'll have a problem with it once she knows it's just you guys and Felicity."

"Wait, what does that mean?" Tommy asked, frowning again. "Not that I want your mom to worry about you spending time with us, but still."

"Well, besides the fact that Sebi, Lydia, and Vicki vouched for you, Mrs. Mack met up with my parents after church and introduced herself so you guys are officially off her 'potential bad boys out to bag my daughter' radar," she said easily. "It also helps that I talk about you guys like I do my brothers."

Tommy's face fell slightly as Ollie began to snicker, "Thanks. Yeah. That-that's a real ego boost right there."

"My car's at Sara and Laurel's though," she told him. "We can swing by and get it and I can come back to your place to help you pack?"

"That sounds cool," Tommy nodded.

"I guess I'll go with you guys to help since I've got nothing better to do," Sara shrugged as they began to clear the table and dispose of their trash.

"I think Laurel and I will just take off then," Ollie said throwing his arm around her shoulders causing Laurel to give him a knowing smirk.

"Maybe later in the week you can make it down, man?" Tommy said, moving to clasp the other man's hand in his own.

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling away from his girlfriend to lean forward and give the other man a hearty clap on the back. At that moment Laurel's phone rang and she moved away from the group to talk. Ollie looked down at Felicity and smiled, "And hey; happy birthday and sorry again about the kangaroo thing." Felicity's face fell slightly at the mention of the kangaroo and he winced, "Sorry."

"That's okay," she told him, "This will just be one of my things like you with the gnomes and Brandon with the mailbox."

He nodded with a sympathetic look, "Between you and me that story doesn't bother me because I'm embarrassed or anything, it bugs me because of what went down afterwards."

"What happened?" She asked curiously.

Ollie looked to see Laurel still talking on the phone near her sister. His voice fell to a more confidential level, "The old lady whose garden I passed out in was the DA's aunt or something so that's how I landed the plea deal to do her weeding and crap for the rest of the summer. The thing is though that she was an evil old—" he paused, his mouth tightening slightly, "Let's just say she wasn't very nice."

"Why man, what happened?" Tommy asked him. "I mean, I know you told me she liked to hassle you, but…?"

"What do you mean, 'hassle'?" McKenna asked curiously.

"She used to do things like turn the sprinklers on me while I was working and say she would tell her nephew to send me to jail if I didn't do things just the way she wanted them," he said grumpily. "Just little petty shit but when I served up all my time she tried to say I took off early a few times and that I faked her signature on the sign off sheet even though she would make me stay late all the time." He grimaced, "The judge threatened to pull my plea deal unless I could prove I didn't take off and, for a minute there, I was convinced I was going to wind up working as that old hag's gardener forever. Luckily my lawyer got her to agree to sign off on my final hours if I bought her those stupid gnomes, and birdbaths, and crap."

"She blackmailed you into buying her gnomes?" McKenna asked slowly.

Ollie's jaw clenched in embarrassment, "Yeah."

Brandon's mouth twitched, "Damn man, I'm sorry it was such a traumatizing experience for you. I'll lay off making fun of the gnomes next time."

"It's not funny," Felicity said sternly, her brow furrowed and her eyes flashing in umbrage. She looked at Ollie, "That old lady shouldn't have done that to you, she shouldn't have been able to get away with that!"

"Sunshine, did you miss the part where he said her nephew was the DA?" Tommy reminded her before looking at Ollie, "And didn't you tell me another one of her nephews or her son or something work for City Hall?"

"Yeah," he grimaced, "Of all the lawns to pass out on while on a candy roll, right?"

"Candy roll?" Felicity repeated with a frown.

Before Tommy could handle that one, Brandon stepped up, "A 'candy roll' means you're rolling on Molly-MDMA," he clarified. "They call it a 'candy roll' because a lot of people like to mix it in Pop Rocks or Tootsie Rolls because it can mess up your taste buds for a while."

"What does it do?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing you ever need to be concerned about," Tommy said gruffly.

Brandon gave him a mildly disapproving look, "While I'm with you that she should stay away from that stuff, making it into a mystery is only gonna make her want to try it, dude." He waited for the other man to nod reluctantly then told her, "It feels good," he told her. "I mean, obviously otherwise people wouldn't do it but it sort of makes you want to hug the world. In fact, a lot of ravers will ask if you want some 'Hug' which is their way of asking if you want to drop a tab." He frowned, "If I had to describe it, it hits about fifteen to twenty minutes or so after you take it, that's if you get good stuff and not the stuff someone cut with other crap. You start feeling a little weird, like anxious and you want to move; that's why most people like to drop during raves or in clubs. There's a head rush then you feel warm, and just really, really happy and full of energy. Everything feels awesome and just…" he shrugged, "It's like falling in love with the world basically. The bad part is the side effects later," he told her, "but, I'll be honest, I never had a lot of trouble rolling or candy flipping."

"Candy flipping?" she repeated.

"I am really uncomfortable with where this conversation is headed," Tommy told him with a pained look. "I don't know if we should be telling this stuff to Felicity."

"No, she should hear this," McKenna said much to his surprise. "She's going to hear about it eventually, especially if she goes to Starling Academy next year. At least if we're honest with her she'll know what's up and that she can come to us if she ever has any questions. I mean," she frowned slightly, "I come from a cop family so I've heard all the speeches about how drugs were bad and don't do them. I knew why I shouldn't do them, heard all the horror stories, but I also knew people must have been doing it for a reason, right?" She shrugged, "The whole reason I tried weed and stuff in the first place is because I was curious to see what the big deal was. I think if someone had been honest with me about some stuff I wouldn't have been as tempted to try it."

He turned to Ollie, "If Felicity was Thea, what would you do?"

"I don't know, man," the other man shrugged. "I mean, Thea's five and Felicity's a lot different." He looked down at the younger girl with a slight smile, "Frankly she's smarter than all of us combined from what I can tell so I think she can handle it but it's ultimately up to you. I'm not really in this so my vote shouldn't count."

Ollie was right but it still stung a bit to hear him admit that he wasn't in this with him. He didn't mean it that way, but it was still the truth. Taking on the responsibility of Felicity was ultimately his deal and his alone. Brandon and McKenna went all in with him, yeah, but this was still his responsibility. Even when he let them take lead, he was responsible for all of it.

That was scary. It was all scary, but some part of him had been lost in this fantasy of…whatever it was they were building here. Ollie, whether he realized it or not, had just drawn a line in the sand. He was Tommy's friend, his bro, but he wasn't going to play Three Men and a Baby with them. It was obvious he liked Felicity, he wasn't worried about that, he just wasn't as interested in making that kind of a commitment.

Tommy frowned, that was a hard realization to come to. Yeah, after Ollie sniped his Dream Girl he talked up a good game, said he could drop everything to be her world, but this was…real. This was reality creeping in and, yeah, it was a choice he had to make and not just about what information they should and shouldn't be sharing with a kid, but whether or not he was going to continue to follow Ollie's lead and go with what he knew, or make his own way.

Ollie, without even meaning to, just told him to take point because this wasn't his deal, he was out.

He looked towards McKenna. Even though she was a little pissed at him dumping a lot of the hard stuff on her lately (and he did, he admitted), if he gave up she'd step in. He knew that. She'd deny it but, yeah, she'd step up because that was who she was. Other people might see the party girl but he'd grown to know the strong, confident woman behind all that, the one who took charge and made it happen. A big part of him regretted the fact that he didn't make his move on her a long time ago instead of wasting his time on girls like Caroline or fantasizing about Dream Girls like Laurel.

Dream Girls, as he was coming to realize, were cotton candy; they looked so beautiful and sweet, but when you took a bite they disappeared because they weren't what you thought they were. McKenna though, she was a steak dinner; meaty, real. He wished he had seen that earlier but now it was too late. It wasn't that he didn't still think she was attractive, because he did; it was that he no longer thought about her in terms of a potential girlfriend.

Weird as that sounded even to him.

She was beautiful, curvy, smart; the whole package, but she was also his friend and he liked having her as just a friend. Felicity was right when she said sometimes it was better to have a friend than a girlfriend. Moreover, he respected McKenna and her opinion of him, something he'd never really cared about until recently. If he pussied out now, if he dumped this responsibility on someone else, he'd lose that feeling of…wholeness.

Maybe that was the wrong word, but that's how he felt when he looked around him. He felt whole for the first time since he could remember. He, Felicity, McKenna, Brandon; they felt whole. Yes, the lion's share of it was squarely on him, but they helped balance out the load. What hurt was realizing that Ollie…

He looked at the other man again, his expression open and laidback as ever, and knew that, for the first time, he was having to go out into battle without his brother at his back. For such a seemingly small moment, it was pretty fucking profound.

He looked to Brandon and nodded, "Go ahead."

The other man hesitated for just a moment before nodding in return. He looked down at Felicity, his expression as serious as it had ever been, and spoke in quiet but firm tones, "Candy flipping is when you mix Molly and LSD," Brandon told her. "People like mixing MDMA with lots of stuff because it's usually a pretty mellow high and it's a psychedelic so it adds to the entertainment value of the experience. When you candy flip though, because you're dealing with two types of psychedelics, some people have a bad trip but, then again, sometimes you can do that on Molly alone. I never did," he told her. "I had a bad trip on 'shrooms once and the first time I did weed I got a little paranoid, but I never really had anything bad happen to me. I guess that makes me one lucky son of a bitch because, God knows, I did a lot of stupid shit," he said with a sober expression. "I never shot up or anything, but I've done coke and some other stuff. Never did heroin but was offered it, never did base either." He looked at her, "That's basically a better quality of crack."

"Crack?" She repeated wide-eyed and Tommy began to regret his decision but held back and let Brandon finish.

"Yeah," he told her. "People who use base get really up their own asses if you refer to their shit as crack for some reason so, yeah," he said rolling his eyes, "stay away from those guys. Anyway, Molly, to me at least, always seemed fairly harmless, kind of like pot, even though I knew it wasn't. I mean, people do OD and die while flipping or rolling if they don't know what they're doing or get a bad cut, but I never had a bad experience on it. I did sweat like a pig and sometimes I had a hard time peeing after, your heart races a bit, and your brain stops working right for a while so, after you come down, you glitch out and might be a little forgetful for a day or two. Then there's what happened to Queen," he said, glancing at Ollie, "Not to poke fun again, man; I'm just using what happened to you as an example," he looked to Felicity again. "People on Hug, Molly, Candy, whatever they call it, are so filled with this feeling of connection and euphoria that it makes everything seem like a good idea. Plus you have all this energy and you want to share the experience, like you just discovered the key to world peace and you want to shout it from the rooftops, so doing stuff like taking off all of your clothes and rolling all over some old lady's lawn can happen, especially if you don't have a spotter to take care of you."

"Yeah, that's definitely a downer right there," Ollie said wryly.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…Tommy's right," he said at last. "I'm not going to be a hypocrite and say all drugs are evil, or that dropping acid will melt your brain, or rolling on Molly will make you eat someone's face off, or turn you into a junkie instantly, but if you don't know what you're doing or if someone slips you something bad, it could kill you; it's a risk," he said seriously. "You need to be able to trust your dealer and most dealers, as a rule, aren't the most trustworthy of guys. They're selling drugs and getting you hooked so they can make money is the point. Sometimes they'll cut it with something hard to get you into the habit of coming back, sometimes you just have some dumbass who figured that since he uses he can cook too and he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. The thing is, always be safe. If you know where to look there's lot of places around here that sell kits to test it to make sure that's what you're getting. Still, most of the time people who do drugs, people like me, they don't bother. All they want is the high so they can feel good and damn the consequences," he said meeting her eyes directly, "They do it because they don't have anything else going on that's important enough not to take those kinds of risks. You, on the other hand, don't need it; you have plenty going on without it."

Ollie looked at all of them with a frown and stepped back a little as Brandon spoke, removing himself from the tight circle and looking around for Laurel. Tommy noted the movement as well as the uncertainty and confusion in his eyes as if, like him, he was starting to realize that something fundamental had changed within their group and he wasn't sure if he liked it.

Unlike the decision the rest of them had obviously made to go forward, Ollie…something told him that Ollie wasn't quite there yet. Maybe eventually but not now.

"Thank you," Felicity smiled up to Brandon, her eyes shining with gratitude and that soft, warm compassion that she always seemed to radiate.

"You're welcome," he told her with a crooked grin. "Also, even though I said I wasn't going to be a hypocrite, I lied; don't do drugs because, if you do, I'll break your neck."

"Seconded," McKenna snorted.

"Thirded," Tommy said taking a shaky breath and realized he had been holding it through most of what Brandon was telling her.

Damn, maybe he was becoming a dad.

"Got it," she nodded, "And I'm not going to do drugs, I promise. I know everybody says that but that glitching out thing you mentioned…" She shook her head, "Nuh huh, I like my brain cells too much. Being the smartest person in the room is my version of getting high," she grinned.

"Yeah, well, take it from me; it's better to be stupid and sober than dumb and on drugs," Brandon joked.

"You're not stupid," Felicity objected. "I hacked your records; your grades are lots better than Tommy or Ollie's. I didn't even have to change them or anything."

"Wait, what?" Ollie burst out, joining the group again as he stepped towards her in confusion, "Are you saying that you're the one who changed my grades?" His eyebrows drew together and he frowned, "Damn, no wonder. I kept sweating balls, waiting for my mom to drop the hammer and say she had to pay somebody to clean up my mess again, and this whole time it was you? Why?"

"I had to," she told him. "I didn't want to risk you and Tommy not being able to get into Harvard."

"Why would you care if I got into Harvard?" he asked in confusion. "You didn't even know me."

"Because I'm going to MIT and I figured that if Tommy got into Harvard we could hang out together but since you're his best friend I knew he wouldn't want to go without you," she explained.

He stared at her, "Oh."

"That explains a lot," McKenna said wryly. At Ollie's glare she snorted, "What? Did you really think you could take off to Guadalajara during midterms and pass? And I don't even want to talk about what you did during finals," she said rolling her eyes, "When I found out you managed to pull that off I was pissed. I had to bust my ass to keep my grades up last year in order to keep my scholarship. I figured your parents must've paid someone off, but this," she waved at Felicity, "Yeah, this makes more sense, plus it's cute, so now I'm not as pissed at you anymore."

"Glad to hear it," Ollie grumbled.

Tommy, on the other hand, was looking between Brandon and Felicity in confusion, "His grades were better than ours? Before or after you changed them?"

"Both," she told him.

"Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yep," she said pertly as she put her hands behind her back and bounced on her toes slightly, "In fact, he's consistently had a 3.9 or higher since kindergarten."

All three of his friends looked to Brandon in surprise.

"No way," Ollie said disbelievingly.

"You're a straight A student?" McKenna said slowly.

"Okay, this…" Tommy squinted at the other man, "This is a joke, right? You guys are pulling our legs."

"It's not a joke," Brandon told them. "School's just never been that big of a deal for me," he shrugged. "I mean, I partied a lot, yeah, but unlike you and Ollie, I always showed up for class and managed to keep sober during school hours. No offense," he added. "It's just that the whole reason I threw so many parties on the weekends and during break was so that I wouldn't have to deal with the quiet, y'know?" he said off-handedly. "Having to sit in a quiet house just…" he made a noise, "it drives me buggy, so why would I skip school? The only place I could really go is home or something and since most everybody I knew and wanted to hang out with was in class, I just went."

"Oh," McKenna said faintly. "Yeah, that makes sense…I guess."

He looked to Felicity, "My question is why you were checking my grades in the first place? Ollie, sure, but why me?"

"I looked at yours later," she admitted. "Tommy told me I wasn't allowed to change his or Ollie's grades anymore—"

"Dude," Ollie burst out, "Why would you stop her from doing that?"

"Just—shut up and listen," he told him.

"Anyway, I knew that if Ollie and Tommy got to go into Harvard and you didn't you'd feel out so I wanted you to get in, too. Plus by then you were my friend too and I didn't want to lose you."

"Wow," Brandon's mouth fell open slightly, "Thank you," he said as soon as he could find the words.

"You're welcome, and I really appreciate you answering my questions without treating me like I'm stupid or just a kid. A lot of people would have but you didn't so I want you to know that means a lot to me," she told him before turning to Ollie, "As for what happened to you and the gnome lady; look, I know drugs are bad and you shouldn't have done what you did, but it also shouldn't matter who her nephew is because what she did was wrong," Felicity insisted, "Yeah, you should have made better choices but that doesn't mean she had a right to treat you like that and you shouldn't have had to buy her anything. She should be punished for that because she lied to the judge and that's a crime, too."

"I told my lawyer the same thing but he said no one would believe me," he said with a soft smile. "Doesn't matter though, it's done. Now I'm free and she can enjoy all the creepy little gnomes she wants and I never have to see her again." He paused, "Well, except for when she's in her yard when I'm picking up Laurel but then I usually just flip her the bird and that helps."

"Wait, are you talking about old Mrs. Nudocerdo?" McKenna asked wrinkling her nose. "Oh God, she is a horrible—" she turned to Felicity, "You know that wicked witch who lures little kids to her house to bake them in the oven?" she nodded, "That's her. Not literally, but if she thought she could get away with it, she would." She scowled darkly, "She lives down the road from our house in that old subdivision in this creepy white house with narrow windows that look like they're staring at you, kind of like the Amityville house. I remember this one time when we were kids, me, Sara, and Laurel were walking from my place to theirs and we had to pass by her house…" She blew out a angry breath, "She had this shitty little Yorkie named 'Toto' and she would sic it on us. One day it chased after us while Sara was on her board and she sort of ran it over a little."

"Sara ran over her dog with a skateboard?" Tommy asked incredulously.

"Not a lot," she said quickly, "just a little—in fact, not even that. It was more like the little shit was trying to take a chunk out of her ankle and Sara stepped back on the board to get away and it caught the little monster and…" she whistled under her breath and made an arching gesture with her finger, "Right back over the rainbow-didn't even hurt it or anything, just scared it a little. Anyway," she said rolling her eyes, "she called the cops on us and wanted us to be brought into custody and do a line-up; the whole nine yards. She said we tortured her dog and that I was some kind of Mexican gang banger or something." She scowled, "Yeah, did I mention she's a racist, too? Luckily my dad diffused the situation by reminding her that her dog wasn't on a leash and if she pressed charges then he'd have to call animal control since it bit Sara on the ankle before she catapulted it back over the fence." Her lips curled back in a sneer, "That old hag still stares at us when we pass her house holding that nasty little dog like she's thinking of putting a hex on us or something. I keep waiting for her to send her flying monkeys after us, seriously."

"Her flying monkeys are what forced me to be her garden slave for three months," Ollie grumbled.

"Hey, Felicity?" Laurel called out, walking over to them with Sara.

The younger girl looked up curiously, "Yeah?"

"Our mom was working on a paper and her laptop messed up or something," the older girl told her. "Do you think you could fix it?"

"Yeah," Sara said stuffing her hands in her pockets and shrugging, "I'm pretty good with a computer but I've done all I can do over the phone and, truth be told, I'm out of ideas. Would you mind stopping by our house and looking at it?"

"You want me to come to your house?" Felicity asked, her expression tensing slightly.

"Yeah, would that be okay?" Laurel asked her.

She looked at Tommy, her eyes filling with apprehension. Confused, Tommy automatically stepped closer to her and put his hand on her shoulder but, before he could ask what was wrong, she spoke, "Is your dad going to be there?"

Ah.

"Shouldn't be," Laurel said with a frown. "He had to go down to the station and do some paperwork, said he'd be gone all day. Why? Is that a problem?"

"Let's just say your dad and I have met," Tommy said wryly. Instead of relaxing though, Felicity continued to look worried for some reason.

"He won't be there," Sara assured them. "He's so far behind on his paperwork he said he'd be lucky to get home by midnight. So are you coming?"

She looked to him again and he tightened his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, "Do you want to go?"

"I guess," she said quietly before looking back at Sara and Laurel nervously, "Tommy can come, too, right?"

"Yeah," Sara shrugged. "In fact, you can all come; Mom won't care."

"Well, if you're going home then Ollie and I are taking off," Laurel told her as she looped her arm through her boyfriend's, "Tell Mom I won't be home for dinner."

"Why don't you call her and tell her yourself?" Sara asked acerbically.

"Because my battery is low and I need to recharge it," Laurel said with a suggestive look towards Ollie who leered in response.

Her sister made a disgusted noise, "Gross; fine, whatever."

"Oh, and tell Mom that I plan to be home late," Laurel gave Ollie another come hither look, "Very late."

"Use protection," Sara said to Ollie flatly.

The other girl's head whipped around in outrage, "Sara!"

"What? It's good advice," the younger girl drawled. "After all, dad does own a gun."

Ollie's mouth fell open slightly at that and he started to say something when Laurel grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the door, "Come on, Ollie. *We*," she emphasized with a pointed look towards her sister, "have more important things to do than deal with my baby sister and her jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Ollie repeated, glancing over at a now thoroughly red-faced Sara as her sister dragged him away.

"I hate her," Sara pouted as the trudged towards outside and piled into Brandon's Jag.

"I know, honey," McKenna said patting her hand comfortingly.

Felicity looked up at Tommy with a frown, "Teenage girls are really, really…" she paused, "intense."

He sighed, opening the door for her, "Tell me about it."