This came to me last night and was inspired by one of Stephen's comment in the Quiver Podcast recently about Oliver & Bruce Wayne. Just a silly oneshot :)

"Did you see there seems to be some sort of vigilante in Gotham City?"

Oliver stilled the punching bag and turned to Felicity.

"I think I heard something about that, yeah."

He walked over to her work station, grabbing a towel on the way and putting it around his neck. She had a few website pages opened on her different screens, all of them featuring the mysterious guy.

"Some call him the Caped Crusader," she read out loud.

"He wears a cape ?" Oliver asked but she ignored him and went on.

"But mostly they call him Batman. Because his costume is reminiscent of a bat," she explained when Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"So the guy comes out at night, wearing some costume and fighting bad guys?" He snorted. "Please. Be Original."

Felicity hid her smile. "I don't know. He sounds intriguing to me. And he has a pretty cool car." She pointed to a picture featuring a huge, futuristic looking automobile. "Must be a bitch to park, though," she added pensively, and Oliver looked at her incredulously. Why was she suddenly so interested in this wannabe vigilante who dressed like a bat? And a cape ? Seriously ? What could she find so fascinating about that obvious rip-off when she had the real deal at home?

Well...kind of.

"I wonder if he has a lair like us," she mused, unaware of Oliver's internal rambling.

"He must have to hang that ginormous cape and that ridiculous pointy-ears mask," he said.

She ignored his sarcastic comment. "I bet he calls it the Bat cave."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Don't you have any research to do instead of fangirling about that guy?"

"No, I'm done," she replied absently before suddenly turning her chair to him. "And how do you know what fangirling mean?"

He gave her a painful look. "Thea made me watch 'This is Us' once."

"I'm so sorry," she said with a commiserated look, before turning her attention back to her computers. "I was just curious about who he could be. I mean considering the car, and his various gadgets, and his MO, I think he definitely has money. What do you think?"

Oliver honestly couldn't care less but he always loved seeing her brain at work. She was adorable when she was cogitating.

Adorable. Not sexy. Absolutely not sexy.

He cleared his throat and realized she was still talking to him. "Do you know any rich people in Gotham?"

"There's Bruce Wayne. We've been to boarding school together, for a short time. But it can't be him, he's some vapid, womanizing billionaire."

She gave him a pointed look. "You just described yourself."

He shot her an offended glare. "Hey!"

She smiled apologetically. "I didn't mean it like that. But isn't it the exact same image that the people here in Starling city have of you? It's really the perfect cover, if you think about it."

"Maybe," he admitted grudgingly. "I haven't seen Bruce in years, so who knows?"

"You should contact him. If he is indeed Batman, you could have your own super hero club. Call it the Vigilante League, or something. Have secret meetings on wednesday nights and save puppies together on weekends. Oh, and bake sales to finance your missions and expensive equipments" she finished with a playful grin.

The towel that was around Oliver's neck the second before landed on her head.

"Eew. That's all sweaty. I don't mind it on you, but this is just gross."

"You think you're so funny. And we're billionaires. We don't need bake sales."

She shrugged. "All right. But all kidding aside, I just think it could be interesting for you to meet. You might have some common goal, you never know."

"We'll see," he replied noncommittally, not wanting to admit that she was right. She was right 9 times out of 10, and he found it both unnerving and extremely appealing. And then he got confused and he preferred to think about stuff that didn't involve his pretty blonde IT sidekick.

And he failed everytime.

He put a t-shirt on before coming back to her desk. "I'm still way cooler than him," he said nonchalantly.

"Of course you are," she answered distractingly, busy shutting down her computers.

"I mean yes, he has a cape, and a cool car, and lots of nifty gadgets, but there's something I'm pretty sure he lacks and I feel sorry for him, actually."

She looked at him curiously. "What's that?"

He put one hand on her desk and the other on the back of her chair and leaned in, his face very close to hers. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes met the impish light in his blue ones.

"You."