A/N: Apparently Effie214 and I are brain twins (her words, not mine) and chose to give our OC the same name, nick name and hair color. It was not intentional on my part to "copy" that (I didn't even know about her Charlotte at the time of writing this oneshot).
That said, if you like Effie214's Stay At Home Dad Verse you'll probably like this oneshot. If you don't know Effie's Verse and like this oneshot, check out her stuff under effie214 on tumblr and ao3.

Soooo Many Rules

It took entirely too much time for Oliver to notice that something was wrong. Or not so much wrong as it was suspicious. Ever since they first brought Charlotte home from the hospital 4 years ago, noise has been her constant companion and the complete absence of it made his mischief-detection-sense tingle. Cursing under his breath lest little C heard him, he wiped his hands on his jeans - thankful that Felicity was not home yet lest he would never hear the end of it, never mind that he was the one doing the laundry - and started the search for his little troublemaker.

Following the proverbial breadcrumbs in the form of abandoned toys starting in the living room, where Oliver left her to play with her dolls, down the hallway right into the little wonderland that doubled as Charlotte's room, he couldn't help but smile as he leaned against the doorframe. He watched her mumble to herself under her breath, marvelling at how much of Felicity he saw in their daughter seeing as once the first full sentence left her mouth there was no stopping little Charlie's ramblings. For the longest time their darling daughter didn't speak – causing Donna all kinds of headaches, thinking that there was something wrong and they had to get her checked out by a specialist, whereas both Felicity and Oliver knew that Charlotte understood everything they said and was as bright as they came – but once she did start to speak the words didn't stop tumbling out of her mouth. He crouched down to her height before softly asking, "What are you doing?"

Like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar Charlotte dropped everything, turned around and immediately directed her best puppy dog look at her father. "Nothing," the girl replied while discreetly trying to push the toy parts away from her and under the rug with her foot.

"What's the first rule, Charlotte?"

"We can only watch The Little Mermaid on Tuesdays," she answered, narrowing her eyes at her dad, as if she still couldn't believe how unfair the world was, before her entire demeanour brightened and she asked, "Is it Tuesday, yet?" her eyes shining with innocence and she nearly jumped up and down in excitement at the prospect that she could finally watch her favourite movie again.

"No, Sunshine." Oliver chuckled at seeing his daughter's frown and started collecting the toy bits and pieces scattered over the carpet. "Today is Thursday, so you have to sleep five more times and then you can watch it again. But I meant the other rule."

Realizing that the not-so-discreet hiding of her misdemeanour was not going according to plan and wanting her daddy to remain happy with her, so that may-be they could watch little Sebastian again, although it was not yet Tuesday, the girl started to recover the hidden toy parts from under her traffic carpet.

"Let mommy come inside and put down her bags before hugging her because she is as heavy as a whale now and falls easily," Charlotte said, handing another part over and therefore missing her dad's reaction.

Oliver tried to keep a straight face while he decided whether to laugh out loud and encourage or admonish his daughter for her not so careful description – one that Felicity would certainly not be delighted to hear. "Not the rule that I meant, either. And let's add a new rule: don't mention mommy's weight, alright? Mommy is carrying around your brother or sister in her body."

"Gross!" the little girl grumbled to herself and added something that sounded suspiciously like "Sooo many rules" and Oliver couldn't help but smile at her.

"Remember the rule about not breaking you toys?" He waited until Charlotte looked at him again, swaying from left to right and hiding her hands behind her back, all around looking like the perfect little angel she – sometimes – was, before he raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking her to explain herself. When that didn't work – predictable, really, Felicity had the 'get your kid to talk with one raise of your eyebrow' look down to pat, Oliver was still working at it - he said, "Want to tell me what Thomas did to you?"

"I wanted to know how it looked on the inside?"

Putting Thomas' inner parts away – for Felicity to reassemble later on – he tousled Charlotte's blonde locks, before he got up from his knees with a groan – he was getting to old to kneel on the floor like that, no matter how cute his girls smiled at him – and offered his daughter his hand. "Do you want to help me with dinner before your mom gets home?"

Charlie nodded furiously, causing her pony tail to bob up and down.

In no time at all the pair was standing in the kitchen, both barefooted, something that originated from Charlotte's dislike of socks, which they had early on discovered, a notion that Oliver could get behind, although on the island he had often wished for a new pair of socks, Charlotte on the little yellow step stool her daddy obediently fetched for her before they started with their work. A work which for Oliver mainly consisted of checking on the lasagne every now and then, while cutting up tomatoes for their salad and also for his little taste-tester to taste test. 'The most important work when cooking,' he had explained to his daughter when she had first started helping him with the cooking and promptly demanded a knife to cut the onions with.

Knowing by now that knives were still off limits for her, the blonde girl asked, "May I have another 'mato?" and added a high pitched "Please?" when her daddy didn't immediately comply with her wishes.

Every now and then Oliver marvelled at the fact that their daughter actually loved tomatoes. Felicity swore up and down that it was his doing, seeing as she herself hated the taste. Right until she got pregnant again and started craving tomatoes all the time.

"But why can we only watch Sebastian on Tuesdays?" Charlotte asked out of the blue, still munching on the tomato he had just handed to her, the juice dropping down her chin. Without missing a beat Oliver grabbed a towel to wipe her chin – an action he knew to be futile, seeing as with her next bite his little master chef looked exactly like before – and he refrained from replying with 'Ask your mom about that since she was the one putting a stop to the constant watching of The Little Mermaid'. Instead he used his number one technique for dealing with questions he didn't have an answer to when dealing with their 4-year-old: Distraction.

"Have another tomato." It was a cheap trick, one that he didn't have the slightest delusion that it would work for much longer, although seeing as Felicity could still be distracted quite easily, at least by him, maybe there was a chance to avoid watching The Little Mermaid round the clock.

But even having another tomato couldn't prevent Charlotte to hear the keys being turned and their front door opening.

"Mommy!" she squealed and wasted no time before jumping off her stool, nearly toppling over in the process, but not caring the slightest bit, while her father's heart skipped a beat at her recklessness.

"Remember the rule!" Oliver shouted after her, not even trying to chase her down, not with the kitchen knife in hand and his heart still racing.

"Don't call mommy a whale," his little troublemaker shouted back before disappearing around the corner to hug her mom.

"Oliver!" he heard Felicity's indignant shout before his girls' rambling took over. Hopefully his lasagne would make his wife forget about what Charlotte had said. But Oliver didn't really count on that.