Okay, so, writer's block combined with Christmas combined with a slew of actual work? Makes writing so much harder. I literally had no time and I'm really sorry it's taken me this long to get this chapter up.

Truly, I'm sorry.

On another note, Oliver and Felicity really chose not cooperate in this chapter. Like, really, I was planning something very different and instead...well, you'll see what happens. It's almost a filler chapter but not quite? I have no idea but you'll get a lot of both of them.

I guess the sort of filler is a good thing, maybe? It means the story might go for longer than the five chapters I was planning.

Anyway, please enjoy this somewhat filler of a chapter!

(And don't kill me. I do know how you all wanted it to go!)

Part III: Solid Mass of Rebound Material

Felicity comes up with a plan.

A really good plan for that involves acting like a completely normal person on a Saturday morning, walking into the coffee shop down the road and politely greeting Motorbike Man – who's name is actually Oliver and, oh my god, Felicity did not immediately think of olives when she saw his name, she didn't – while pretending she hasn't stayed up half the night thinking about how this coffee date is going to go down.

Felicity's pretty sure it's a coffee date, anyway.

She's pretty sure Motorbike Man wouldn't ask her to coffee to, to…Felicity frowns. Huh. She has no alternate theory for him wanting to ask her to coffee.

After all, she is the one with the problem. Not him. He was just the unfortunate soul who'd made the terrible decision of owning a motorbike that had invoked her wrath.

Not that it was much of a wrath.

It was more…sleepless irritation put onto paper.

That had developed into a mutual agreement to meet for coffee.

On a date.

At least, Felicity's pretty sure it's a date. He had done the asking about meeting up and then she'd done the implying about coffee and he'd taken the implication and run with it.

There had also been flirting and accidental innuendos in their notes and Felicity's pretty sure she's not reading the notes wrong except…how can you tell if someone is flirting with you on paper? She couldn't do it in middle school and it hasn't grown any clearer since she was in middle school.

To be fair, Felicity's never entirely sure when someone's flirting with her, anyway. Which is just a disaster for her personal life because if she's not sure, she doesn't know what to do and it always ends with her putting her foot in her mouth.

So, she's sort of sure they were flirting and the flirting led to him asking to meet her and it's a date.

She thinks.

Groaning aloud, Felicity reaches up to rub her eyes then remembers that she's wearing mascara and has to tamp down a howl of frustration.

She's so tired and it's not even Motorbike Man's fault this time! At least, it's not his bikes fault this time.

It's totally his fault for running with the implication that they'll meet at ten o'clock in the morning without confirming what this meeting actually was.

So, Felicity had found herself awake at six o'clock on a Saturday morning thinking about the stupid maybe-a-date-but-maybe-not and had found herself counting down the hours until she could leave to find out what it was.

Because she'd reached the conclusion about five minutes because she'd had to leave that she can't clear it up unless she went to the coffee shop and met him. Oliver, him. Not another him. Oliver. Whose name she has to start using in her head so she doesn't call him something else when face-to-face.

Then, when she went into the coffee shop she could ask what this was and, if it turned out it's not a date, well, she'd worn her flat boots for a reason.

First though, she has to actually enter the coffee shop.

Which isn't going that well.

Felicity knows she's being slightly unreasonable but, well, she's nervous and it's translated into her walking past the coffee shop a grand total of four times in the last ten minutes.

The café is situated in the middle of the street, sandwiched between a salon and gift store and cheerily invites people in with tables set outside, the scent of coffee coming from the open window and fairy lights strung in the front window.

Felicity has never had a problem walking into the cheery little café before. Right up until now. Now, she's on her fifth pass and she has to make it six because she has to walk past an even six, okay?

Then she'll enter.

This is despite her resolving to enter the first time she walked past.

Clearly, that resolve hadn't worked out that well.

Putting her head down, Felicity reaches the end of the street and turns on her heel to pace back to the other end.

Idly, Felicity finds herself noting that the toe of her black boot is scuffed. Not too badly but it's still scuffed which means she might be able to buy another pair of black boots to go with her other three.

But she only has two pairs of ankle boots, neither of them in black. So maybe she can get away with treating herself to a black pair to make up from the stress she's decided to put herself under on this coffee date.

Felicity's only thinking about buying new boots for twenty seconds, twenty seconds of not paying attention to her surroundings at all, when she runs head first into a solid mass of person who lets out a surprised 'oomph' as her footing gives way because she actually rebounds off the solid mass of person.

Letting out a surprised yelp, Felicity finds herself falling backwards in a rush and can only wonder how she was walking so fast she managed to rebound off someone, when the Solid Mass of Rebound Material grabs her hand.

Only to yank her back to her feet with so much force, Felicity stumbles and she is not this clumsy as she runs head first in the Solid Mass of Rebound Material, again.

Solid Mass of Rebound Material's chest is extremely hard and – while Felicity is sure she'd appreciate it if she hadn't just run head first into it – it's also vibrating. Which she's pretty sure means he's laughing.

Huffing, Felicity finally finds her footing and straightens so she can look up at the Solid Mass of Rebound Material and tell him to watch where he's going.

Only to find amused blue eyes set in a beautifully manly face with a five o'clock shadow shading cheekbones that wouldn't quit and a jaw line probably carved by Michelangelo himself, staring down at her.

Because of course she's going to run into someone who looks like that after waking up at six o'clock to drive herself crazy over a maybe-a-date-but-maybe-not before being unable to enter a coffee shop because of nerves.

Of course this was going to happen to her today.

"Oh my god, this is so not my day!" Felicity exclaims crankily at the world in general.

She then remembers that she's standing in front of someone and goes bright red because she really did mean to keep that to herself and she's not having a bad enough day to take it out on the man standing in front of her.

Who is still watching her with amusement, his lips quirking slightly as he watches the blush spread.

"I don't know if it's your day," he says eventually. "But it's definitely mine."

Felicity has absolutely no idea how to react to that statement.

So, she just stares at him in surprise.

Like a creeper.

She has freckles.

Oliver's eyes are instantly drawn to them as she stares up at him in shock, her hand still gripped in hers and Oliver has no doubt about who's hand he's holding.

He's caught enough of a glimpse of her around their building to be sure that this is Felicity, the sleep deprived blond in apartment two who he asked to meet, only to find himself running twenty minutes late and sure she'd never agree to meet up with again because of it.

Oliver knows who she is; he's just never been close enough to see the freckles.

A fact he's seriously regretting not finding out before now.

Because Felicity has freckles sprinkled across her nose and is staring up at him, cheeks tinged pink and eyes wide with embarrassment behind black frames and Oliver finds himself having a slow, inevitable meltdown.

Because she's cute in exactly the way he'd thought she'd be and Oliver discovers that it works for him.

It really works for him.

Something he could have known earlier if he hadn't been having so much fun with the notes.

It doesn't really matter now because he now knows that she has freckles and Oliver suddenly finds himself with an intense interest in finding out if she has freckles anywhere else.

Before he can think too much on that stimulating prospect, Felicity clears her throat and then does it again, possibly for good measure.

"I'm sorry. What?" she sputters clearly stunned by his opening.

Oliver doesn't mean to grin, not really, but he can't help himself. She just looks so cute standing there, her blush deepening as she catches sight of his grin. Oliver shrugs a little, deciding not to repeat himself and instead cuts to the chase because she's looking increasingly confused.

"Felicity? I'm Oliver."

For a moment, she doesn't say anything. She just continues to stare up at him, her mouth falling open slightly and Oliver has the distinct impression that he's surprised her.

He's not sure what the surprising part is, though. Besides the running into him outside of their designated meeting place, twenty minutes after they were supposed to meet. That would be surprising but who he is shouldn't be.

He thinks.

As she continues to stare up at him, not speaking, a rather unsettling notion works its way into Oliver's thoughts.

What if she's staring at him like that because she has absolutely no idea what he looks like?

It's not an entirely pleasant thought Oliver wants to entertain because that would mean that he had paid way more attention to her than she ever had to him, and Oliver's not entirely sure if this makes him creepy or appreciative.

He's really not.

Still, given that Felicity looks like she's not going to speak any time soon, Oliver finds himself in the not entirely comfortable position of having to carry the conversation while shoving aside the awkward realization he's just had.

"So, sorry I'm late. I, uh, had some paperwork to get through before this and it took –" Oliver stops himself midsentence because she really doesn't need to know why he's late. "Anyway, have you been inside? Do you want a coffee?"

She's still staring at him as he talks and if Oliver's not mistaken, her gaze is beginning to grow slightly panicked. Oliver suddenly has a sinking feeling that they haven't even made it into the coffee shop and this is heading south and it's heading south really quickly.

As Felicity continues to stare at him, Oliver finds himself with absolutely no idea how to stop this crashing and burning so hard; he has to move out of the building.

Felicity. Can't. Talk.

There are words, thousands of them, bubbling through her brain at any given moment, just waiting for her string together and unleash on an unsuspecting person. It had been this way since she could remember, both a curse and a comfort and entirely reliable.

It was now failing her spectacularly.

It was failing her so badly that Felicity can see how quickly this is going to go down as one of the most catastrophic first meetings, ever.

Because she can't talk.

Felicity isn't even sure why she can't talk. She has no idea if it's because the Solid Mass of Rebound Material is so attractive, she can't stop staring. She doesn't know if it's because he had told her it was his lucky day while looking at her, implying that it was lucky because she'd run into him. She doesn't even know if it's because he'd then introduced himself as Oliver and her first thought had been that his jawline was so sharp, she'd cut herself if she touched it.

Felicity supposes it's all of these things, combined with the nervous panic she'd been building before running into him and the fact that, after the jawline thought, Felicity had realized it was Oliver.

As in Motorbike Man, Oliver.

The guy she's supposed to be meeting in the coffee shop she's walked past six times. Sort of. Technically, she was in the middle of her sixth pass when she'd run into the Solid Mass of Rebound Material who is also Motorbike Man.

The fact that she's managed to assign him two different identifiers is disconcerting.

So she can add that to the growing list of reasons she's currently unable to speak as she stares up at him.

He's just, really pretty and, okay, she knew he was built given that the first time she saw him, or, technically, the back of him, the muscle definition she'd seen when peeking out from behind the brick pillar was really hard to miss.

But still.

He's really built.

Not that she could have missed it really, given that she'd walked headfirst into him and…and now he's staring at her and Felicity realizes it's been too long since the last time she'd spoken.

And that she'd possibly missed what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry. What?"

Oliver's eyebrows shoot up as Felicity finally finds words. Words she'd already used but still, she'd found words.

"Ah, coffee? Did you still want to get coffee?" He asks and then, before Felicity can formulate a reply, – which probably would have taken her another five minutes and wouldn't that have been a treat? – he continues. "Unless you've already had coffee and then, well, I'm sorry I'm late and missed having it with you."

Oh. Oh. He thinks she was leaving. Or had waited. Or had…done something more constructive than pace nervously up and down the street.

Which means if she doesn't talk, he's going to leave.

"No! No, I haven't had coffee. Which is a crime against humanity, really. Given how early I woke up and how long ago that was. I mean, no. No. I haven't had any coffee yet." Felicity finds words bursting from her before she can stop them, only to have them fade as he frowns a little.

Motorbike Man/Solid Mass of Rebound Material looks attractive frowning.

This is information Felicity feels she should examine later.

"Ah, okay. So, do you still want to get coffee?" He gestures towards the café door and Felicity realizes that, right now, this is her moment to run.

Just…run. Get out of this meeting she can feel is going spectacularly badly and go home and obsess over it until she realizes that her natural inclination for absolute awkwardness was to blame for this mess.

Except, she can't.

She can't because she meets his gaze and is staggered to discover that he's looking at her hopefully. Like he really wants to get coffee with her and hasn't at all been turned off by any of her actions since she ran head first into him.

It's the hope in his eyes – the hope connected solely to her – that has Felicity make the truly horrendous decision to prolong this.

So, she nods her head.

After all, it can't get much worse than this, can it?

It got worse.

It got so much worse, Felicity's head is still buried in the pillow she'd pressed to her face in absolute embarrassment the second she'd returned home from the train wreck of a coffee meeting.

"It can't have been that bad." Caitlin says sympathetically as Felicity mutters into her pillow incomprehensibly.

Caitlin had responded almost immediately to Felicity's slightly hysterical text about train wrecks and coffee. Even though it was her day off and Felicity knew she'd had grand plans of doing nothing all day, her friend had still shown up at her door a half hour after her message, sympathy rolling off her in waves.

Felicity lifts her head from the pillow to stare at her friend, ignoring the faint pain on the bridge of her nose from where her glasses had dug into her face.

"That bad? We sat at the table and stared at each other for ten minutes because I couldn't talk! Right after we spent five minutes on the street, awkwardly standing around because I couldn't form a sentence then, either!" Felicity exclaims and Caitlin raises her eyebrows a little as Felicity pushes hair from her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't sit in silence for that long. You had to have eventually said something."

Felicity shakes her head in derision. "Oh, yeah, my sparkling conversationalist skills came through. I talked about code, Caitlin. Continuously. Without stopping. For another five minutes. I lost him at binary."

Caitlin winces a little at that and it causes Felicity to drop her face back into the pillow because she absolutely knows why Caitlin was wincing. Her friend has seen her in action when she begins to talk about coding or technology or anything Felicity considers remotely interesting.

She went through a whole phase when she was around twenty where, because she was so nervous, she espoused every fact about lions she'd ever heard.

Felicity totally blamed her obsession with The Lion King when she was younger for that.

She'd grown out of it, obviously, graduating to larger, more complex topics than lions but still, Caitlin had been there in the early days, when she could talk about lions like it was nobody's business.

Caitlin held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. So, you talked about code. Did he say anything?"

"You mean after he asked if I wanted a coffee? No. He couldn't. I was too busy talking about code."

At Caitlin's sympathetic noise, Felicity let her head fall back into the pillow and tried very hard not to groan aloud.

It had been so awful and she really, really hadn't wanted it to be awful.

If she were in the mood for introspection – which she wasn't because of her horrific morning, seriously, talking t a hot guy. About code. For ten minutes. – Felicity would admit that she hadn't wanted it to be awful because she hadn't been interested in someone for a very long time.

No-one had really sparked her interest enough to have her put herself out there since college and the disaster of a relationship she'd left behind there.

These notes, this weird middle school flirting ritual she's pretty sure they were going through, was the most interested she'd been in anything outside of her work and her immediate friends for a very long time.

So, no, she hadn't wanted it to be awful and, some small part of her, really hadn't wanted it to be awful when she'd looked up and discovered the man could have been at home on Mount Olympus.

An Adonis, he could have been.

Even if he rode a motorbike at stupid hours of the morning.

The thought is enough for Felicity's head to pop up from her pillow suddenly.

Caitlin jumps in surprise at her sudden movement, "Felicity, wha –"

"I didn't even talk to him about the stupid motorbike."

Felicity wails it because, damn it, she could have babbled about motorbikes but had she? No. No, she hadn't. Of course not. She had to talk about code and, out of all the things that could have come out of her morning, Felicity discovers that this?

This is the worst part.

Oliver's still mulling over his morning.

He's got no idea where he went wrong and, for the life of him, every time he goes back to thinking about it, all he gets is freckles which just leads him to debating whether or not he was a creep for noticing her.

He's still got no idea and is starting to get a headache from the circles running through his mind.

Seated at his desk in the club, Oliver can hear the bartenders prepping for a big night, chatting and shouting at each other as they make sure the bar is in order before the doors open and they're inundated with people. Oliver knows he should probably be down there, seeing if they have everything before greeting the guest DJ who's the reason they're going to have a big night but he's too busy trying to figure out what happened this morning.

Oliver picks up the magnet Felicity had given him, fingering the edge gently and staring at it, wondering how the hell they had gone from notes that were practically one long, comfortable conversation and thoughtful gifts to sitting awkwardly in silence in a coffee shop.

Oliver hadn't prepared for awkwardness, at least not the excruciating awkwardness that it was. He also hadn't prepared to run directly into her in the middle of the street because he was late. Or for the silence that emanated from her when as he tried to make conversation. Or the uncomfortable internal debate he'd had about his level of creepiness in noticing her before she knew him.

Oliver can admit to that he really hadn't prepared to listen to her talk about what he was pretty sure was computer code before she finished her coffee and dashed out, leaving him sitting there wondering what the hell had happened.

He basically hadn't prepared for them to be having coffee with penguins given how far south the meet up had gone.

Oliver had honestly thought that it wouldn't be awkward when they met for the first time. He figured maybe they'd tease each other a little about the notes, that they'd find some common ground and any lingering awkwardness would be gone by the time they'd finished their coffees.

He'd figured that he'd be charming and engaging and, in the absence of a better word, dazzle her into going out to dinner with him.

That…wasn't what had happened and he has no idea why.

Well, he does have some idea of why but Oliver's not entirely thrilled that he'd managed to be less than charming, engaging and dazzling to a women who's entire package had worked for him beyond belief.

Even when she was talking about computer code and what she was saying was absolutely lost on him, Oliver had been stunned by how attractive the intelligence shining through her had been.

Combine that with the freckles and Oliver can't help but feel petulant about how badly the coffee date had gone.

It's why he's scowling when Tommy walks in.

"Whoa. Which poor soul are you going to rain down a world of hurt on?" His best friend asks, more out of curiosity than any particular care for the individual he's sure Oliver's going to hurt.

"No-one. Everything looking good for tonight?" Oliver says, not bothering to try and stop scowling even as Tommy's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yep. We're going to hit capacity and there's some VIPs coming that are going to spend big or go home. Or so I've heard." Tommy rubs his hands together and Oliver's lips twitch slightly at his friends delight.

He knows, absolutely, that spend big or go home was his and Tommy's motto when they were younger and because of his experience at being one, Tommy has no trouble coaxing their VIPs to follow that motto to the letter.

They'd worked out pretty early on that, in a surprising twist of events, Oliver's maturity went hand in hand with a shortened tolerance of the people who frequented these clubs. It was hypocritical, he knew, but where once Oliver was the one spending stupid amounts on vodka and fulfilling the meaning of the word asinine now, he could barely tolerate those people.

The people and the lifestyle that their VIPs subscribed to had lost all its appeal and Oliver's pretty sure that the new generation had some grown worse since he was president of that particular club.

It had meant a shortened tolerance and, after punching one of their drunken patrons, they'd quickly decided Tommy was much better at the schmoozing than he was.

Tommy, as it turned out, had matured to but his tolerance of those they used to be lent more towards amusement than intolerance.

So, Tommy worked the patrons and Oliver dealt with the suppliers as they harmoniously co-managed the club.

"Good." Oliver says shortly, tossing the magnet in the air and catching it. He honestly can't help it when he scowls again, then Oliver finds himself staring as Tommy frowns and sits down into one of the chair opposite him.

"Okay, now you've got to tell me what's going on. You're scowling and playing with the adorable magnet again. Is it woman trouble? Tell me its woman trouble. It's been a slow news week."

Oliver stares at Tommy's question and the eagerness on the dark haired mans face as he talks. He can't actually remember Tommy being this enthusiastic about something to do with his life outside the club in a while.

Oliver's thinking of half a dozen excuses to get Tommy off his back when he suddenly wonders if his friend can help. He is in a long-term relationship with a woman Oliver's pretty sure he pisses off a lot.

He's seen Tommy in action, after all.

"What do you do when something goes badly and you want to fix it but don't know how?" Oliver asks slowly, watching in amusement as Tommy leans forward slightly.

"With a woman?" Tommy asks earnestly, his eyes alight with interest.

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Yes, badly with a woman."

"How badly?"

"Pretty badly."

"Allie Rhodes badly or Candace Hartly badly?"

"Neither. Connie Braxton badly."

Tommy winces.

Because they both remember how badly the Connie Braxton episode of his life had been. It hadn't been nearly as awkward as his morning, Oliver remembers, but it had been pretty close.

Felicity, at least, hadn't vomited from nerves.

"Give up?" Tommy says flippantly then seems to realize that wasn't the right thing to say when Oliver's gaze turns menacing. "Do you really like her?" He asks.

Oliver thinks about it for a second. "I could."

Because he really could.

She's funny and really smart and cute in a way Oliver had never really considered but now won't be able to get out of his head. Oliver knows enough about her to know all this and it's the knowing more than anything else that made the morning such a disappointment.

Because he really could like Felicity.

"Ah. Right. No idea, man. No idea." Tommy nods and then adds. "When Laurel gets pissed at me, I just grovel a lot. Then we share a glass of wine and be mature about it and talk. Always works."

Oliver nods vaguely because Tommy's words have triggered something Felicity had said that morning and it's given him a somewhat hazy idea.

A little risky, too.

But it's an idea.

He just needs to find a bottle of red wine.

Felicity is still sulking by the time Caitlin leaves that night.

She can't help it.

The date had gone terribly, Oliver was gorgeous and she's just…so disappointed with how it had all gone down.

The notes had suggested that it wasn't going to be that awkward and yet, that's exactly what it was. It's frustrating and Felicity knows she's beginning to think in circle but she can't help it.

It was a really awful date.

Still, she can put on her pajamas and go to bed soon. She can sleep until Oliver comes home and she wakes up to the sound of his motorbike. Then be awake at the lonely hour of four am and think about how terribly the date had gone again.

Felicity's not entirely looking forward to this nighttime plan but what else is she going to do?

She's driving herself crazy thinking about her morning and she's tired, so she may as well get as much sleep as she possibly can, while she can.

Before that motorbike returns.

Almost as if on cue, a motorbike revs loudly below her apartment and Felicity jumps a foot in the air because she hadn't been expecting that.

Glancing at the clock, Felicity frowns when she sees that it's only a little past eight and Oliver's most definitely home way earlier than he usually is.

It makes her curious and she's half considering writing a note to him to ask why before beginning to debate whether that's really a good idea or not when she jumps again at a loud knock on her door.

For a second, Felicity doesn't move.

She just stares at the door because surely somebody did not knock on her door, right? She's pretty sure they didn't right up until someone knocks again.

It spurs her into movement as a third knock sounds and she walks quickly towards the door, determined to answer it and shoo this person away. It's definitely not Caitlin, Felicity knows, her friends generally just walk into her apartment.

A fourth knock sounds and Felicity yanks open the door, intent on telling the person knocking that one knock is completely fine.

Only to come face to face with Oliver.

"Oh." Felicity squeaks and he offers her a tentative half smile.

"Hi." He says quietly and Felicity tries to force a smile.

She doesn't know if she succeeds but she does manage to find her voice.

"Hi."

Oliver lifts a bottle of wine she didn't realize he was holding and offers it to her.

"I was wondering if you wanted to, maybe, start over?"

Felicity stares at him because, really? He really wants to start over? With her? After this morning? Really?

Felicity doesn't say that though. No, of course she doesn't. Instead, she forgets to think for half a second and blurts out.

"By getting drunk?"

Oliver looks startled at her words.

Felicity decides that yes, this day could have gotten a lot worse.

And it totally did.

See what I mean about lack of cooperation?

In my head, they were actually going to meet-cute with only a little spilled coffee, nervous babbling about being nervous and somebody finding someone completely adorable.

Obviously, that didn't happen. Except maybe a little bit of adorable somewhere in there. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter where they will be drinking the offered wine.

Hopefully it will be out much sooner than this chapter.

Thanks for reading!