Title: Possible Romantic Interest
Word Count: 2627

Notes: Happy Titles Tuesday, one and all! I'm not sure what's going to happen next Tuesday (because I have nothing else to post), but I'm hoping that I can remedy that in time. If not, this is going to be it until I can write something else in the series. :)

This was, by far, my favorite Titles thing I wrote. :) But I'll let you be the judge. Comments are awesome, but if not, thanks for reading! :)

The tenth time, he visits her, and he brings a friend.

He plans to talk to her about some of the things he's been researching for those names on her list (the list that no one wants to find themselves on for Christmas). It's a Saturday, and he knows she'll probably be working on getting the new nightclub up and running because the girl is a work horse. He was planning on dropping in and out quickly, but plans have changed.

Now, his little sister, Thea, is with him.

They're ten years apart, but Oliver likes to think that they're still close despite the age difference. He's cheerfully moved out from under his mother's clutches, but Thea's now trying to do the same because her relationship with their mother is more tumultuous than his. For the past few weeks, she's been staying with him, and, though they're brother and sister and supposed to hate each other, he's been glad for the company around the place. As a bonus, Thea's actually been going to school every day and making straight-A's, unlike when she was living at home, so he likes to think the arrangement is good for her, too.

But Thea is adamant about getting a job to help out with the apartment expenses—which he insists that she most certainly does not have to do, but she's just as stubborn as he is. The problem is that Thea has an arrest record as long as his arm, stemming from juvie days but with a few offenses after she turned eighteen three months ago. She's trying to do better, but very few employers will touch her with a ten-foot pole.

Fortunately for Oliver, he knows another misunderstood soul with an arrest record—who just happens to be opening a club.

They walk into the future home of Verdant together, and Oliver has to admit, the renovations are going smoothly. Felicity might actually be able to open early, which will help with their cover over the upcoming months with the List.

Thea snorts as soon as she enters, and he notices, not for the first time, that she's inherited some of their upscale lawyer mother's snobbery. "Nice place," she says dryly. "I can't wait to work here."

Oliver gives her his best disapproving-older-brother look. "The renovations aren't finished yet," he assures her, surprised by the bite in his tone as he defends his friend's business venture. "That's why I brought you here—they're going to need all the help they can get for the grand opening, and I happen to know the owner. She won't hesitate to hire someone with a record."

Thea crosses her arms, her eyebrows narrowing in suspicion. "She?" is the reiteration.

Oliver has spent enough time around Felicity to learn the graceful avoidance of the truth. Instead, he turns to where Diggle is sitting in an old chair in one corner, reading the newspaper. "Hey, Digg," he calls, and the man's attention snaps to him. Oliver pulls Thea along as he moves toward him. "How are you today?"

"As good as I can be while babysitting," he assures Oliver with that half-smile that shows he's not near as annoyed as he probably should be.

"Me, too," he jokes, motioning at Thea, who doesn't hesitate to slap his shoulder in retaliation. "Thea, this is Mr. Diggle. He's a friend. Digg, this is my charming"—he emphasizes the word ironically—"little sister, Thea."

Diggle offers her a hand, and they shake. "Nice to meet you, Miss Queen," he offers kindly before turning back to Oliver. "What brings you by today? You do realize it's a weekend, right?"

Oliver chuckles. "I had some things that our fearless leader wanted to see as soon as possible," he offers in an explanation that sounds more joking that it is. "Where is bossy boots, by the way?"

That earns him a small smile from Diggle. "She's back in the back, yelling at contractors. That's why I got out of the line of fire. Good luck, man—you're gonna need it."

Oliver sighs because that's just his luck. He's already learned in his short tenure on Team Arrow that growly Felicity is the worst kind of Felicity. She usually takes out her anger and frustration on the training dummies, but he has seen her throw a few tables since he's been on the team—and it's not as funny in person as it is on the Internet. He seems to be able to talk sense into her, but he's not about to push his luck by thinking he can every time.

"Come on, Speedy," he says with a cheerfulness he no longer feels, "let's go talk to the boss."

Thea rolls her eyes. "Do me a favor? Don't call me that in front of my potential employer, please."

Oliver winks as he pulls her in the direction Diggle indicated. "I make no promises. And besides, I think I might have mentioned it in passing already." That earns him a groan, and he grins in response.

It's a perilous walk across building materials, but he finally sees her, that familiar blonde ponytail swinging behind her as she navigates the I-beams and scaffolds in three-inch, canary yellow heels. He finds the color less than subtle, like Felicity herself, but it matches well with the black pencil skirt that falls just above her knees, covered in spiraling bold, multicolor patterns. She pairs it with a black, long-sleeved blouse that covers most of the scars on her arms. But he can still tell the difference between the genuine purple fingernails and the acrylics, which cover the nails that were ripped off on the island.

Thea recognizes her instantly, and she gapes as she looks between Felicity and Oliver. He sighs before saying softly, "Don't stare at the scars. She hates it when people do that." With that, he turns toward the blonde. "Hey, Felicity!" he yells over the sound of equipment and machinery. "Do you have a minute?"

She turns at his voice, and her frown breaks into a genuine smile that she seems to reserve only for him, the upward curve of her lips highlighted by that fuchsia shade of lipstick she seems to be so fond of. She manages the debris very well—a little too well for a party queen heiress. When she finally reaches them, she says, "Hey, Oliver. Do you have that information for me?"

Oliver holds up his work tablet that has seen a lot more illegal activity and Arrow business than actual work the last few weeks. "Right here. But can I talk to you about something else first?" He's a little sheepish because, while they share a common goal and they work together on the Arrow stuff, that's been a professional relationship so far, and this is more a personal favor. He's not sure how she'll respond to it now, despite what he's assured his sister.

She folds her arms, her eyes flicking to Thea appraisingly a few times before her mouth turns down at the corners ever so slightly. "Sure," is her assurance. "What's up?" He's grateful that she's not trying to do the heiress act in front of Thea, though she knows it's what everyone expects. Since he told her to "cut the crap" a few weeks ago, she seems to have taken the suggestion to heart.

"Felicity," he starts, earning him an odd look from Thea, "this is my little sister, Thea." Felicity's expression clears into a real smile quickly, and Oliver wonders for a moment what caused the temporary irritation. "Thea, this is my boss—kind of—and my friend, Felicity Smoak."

Felicity doesn't like people touching her, Oliver has observed, so she offers a small wave instead of a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Thea."

Thea seems to break out of her astonishment. "Hey, nice to meet you." She nudges Oliver with an elbow. "You didn't tell me you've been rubbing elbows with the Starling City elite," she chastises a little, with that smile she always gives when Oliver's with a girl. He can feel his face start to heat at the implications from that smile alone.

Before she can embarrass him any further, he dives back into the point of the conversation. "Thea has just recently moved in with me, and she's looking for a job to help with expenses—even though I've assured her she doesn't have to." He hesitates, not wanting to upset his sister, but not wanting to lie to Felicity, either. "Thea has had some... legal difficulties in the past, and so she's having trouble finding a job. I thought you might be sympathetic?" It's meant to be a statement, but somehow it ends up a question.

Felicity's eyes cut over to Felicity, and she turns an appraising glance on her again. "What were the charges ?" she asks of Thea, not of Oliver.

Thea has the decency to look guilty. "I had some drug and alcohol problems back in the day, but I haven't touched the stuff since the last arrest. I'm without a license right now, but Ollie has offered to drop me off and pick me up until I become an outstanding citizen again." As expected from Thea, she doesn't beg or plead for the job, holding her head high as she tells of all her mistakes. It's a quality Oliver approves of in his sister, but he's not sure if that will help her with Felicity.

It must mean something, though, because Felicity nods. "I'm still short a few waitresses," is her response. "As long as you're old enough to serve alcohol and haven't been arrested for any thefts, I don't care about your record." She holds out her hand this time. "Thea Queen, you have yourself a job."

Thea shakes her hand gratefully. "Thank you, Miss Smoak."

Surprisingly, Felicity shakes her head in disagreement. "Oh, no, you are not allowed to call me 'Miss Smoak.' That's my mother. It's just Felicity."

Thea actually smiles for the first time in the conversation. "Well then, thanks, Felicity."

Oliver pats his sister's shoulder. "I have to do some shop talk now. Could you wait for me with Mr. Diggle?" He's hoping she'll be compliant for a change because he can't just talk Arrow business in front of his sister. She's a little freaked by the Vigilante, and the last thing he wants is for her to be involved with the danger of his night job.

She rolls her eyes and gives him that knowing smile that hints that he has feelings for Felicity (which he most certainly does not, thank you). "Whatever you say, bro," she offers cheerfully before returning back the way they came.

Felicity motions him toward the newly installed bar, and Felicity moves behind it, stocking the inventory while Oliver takes a seat on one of the stools. "Thanks for coming by with this," she says to him, looking a little more comfortable in her own skin as she's talking to him alone.

Oliver swallows nervously. "No problem," he assures her. "I'm sorry about the thing with my sister. I didn't know she would want to go job searching today. I hope I didn't put you on the spot."

Felicity rolls her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. "I already told you I'd do anything for you," she reminds him, referring to the result of that nasty Dodger case. He remembers thanking her for saving his life, and her reply was only to say, Oliver, surely you know by now that I'd do anything for you. All you have to do is ask. "And, really," she continues before he can comment, "you're doing me a favor. I'm short a few girls for the opening, and I always like to hire people with records—they work harder because they have something to prove." She smiles enigmatically, and he feels as though she can see straight into his soul for a moment. "I know from experience. Now, for the intel for our... side venture. What did you find?"

He turns toward his tablet, scrolling through the information he gathered on their newest target. "Landon Woods," he starts, "is a nasty piece of work. Smuggles anything worth smuggling—drugs, guns, girls, even Iraqi antiquities. The man has his fingers in a lot of pies."

Felicity's smile is almost predatory. "The more they stretch themselves, the easier it is to find them. What's the best approach for Woods?"

Oliver frowns. "Well, he's a smart man, so it's a little more difficult to—" He breaks off abruptly as a new face appears at the field of his vision, knowing that it would not bode well if Arrow business got out. There's a reason Felicity keeps it quiet; what they do here is very illegal, and the cops would probably throw them under the jail if they ever caught them.

"Hey, Smoaky," calls the smooth voice, polished with a high-priced education and wealthy upbringing. Oliver knows the man on sight; Starling has grown up seeing the faces of the Merlyns platered all over their magazines and television sets. Tommy Merlyn represents everything Oliver expects him to be: spoiled, rich, and easily bored. "Hey, Smoaky," he tries again, "the metalworkers have some questions—" He pulls up short as he sees Oliver sitting there, and Tommy's eyes flit between them in a jealous fashion for a few seconds before he finally continues, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were talking to someone."

Oliver sighs because he's an idiot and should not get himself in the middle of a love triangle between Tommy and Felicity—the two that were once considered Starling's sweethearts. (Maybe they thought the crappy alliteration would sell papers, who knows.) Felicity smiles tightly at Tommy, displaying her irritation with him. "Tommy," she says in a warning tone, "this is my friend, Oliver Queen." He doesn't know when he got upgraded to friend status, but he doesn't question it, even though he probably should, if only for Tommy's sake. "Oliver, this is my business partner, Tommy Merlyn."

Oliver simply looks at her a moment before deciding that the distancing language with Tommy was intentional, and she's trying to indicate subtly that Tommy is no longer a major part of her life. Then Oliver realizes how stupid he is to think any different; after all, he's the one sitting down in the lair while Felicity puts arrows in bad guys—not Tommy.

"Hey," is Tommy's dismissive response before turning back to Felicity. "If you can peel yourself away from your friend,"—the intentional, doubting emphasis is not lost on Oliver—"we have some work to do back here. The contractors are a little lost, and I think I need a woman's touch on the decor."

Felicity does not look pleased by this development, probably seeing it for the opportunity to separate them that it is. "Sure, Tommy," she says a little tersely, "one second." She turns back to Oliver with a sudden tone change, putting a hand over his that sours Tommy Merlyn's expression. "Thanks, Oliver." Then, far too seriously, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

He's not sure what to do with the praise, and he figures she's just trying to teach Tommy a lesson, so Oliver simply shrugs. "Oh, you were doing just fine before I showed up," he replies with a modesty that isn't faked.

"Tell Thea to show up Monday at eight am sharp—we're going to do training over the next few weeks." And with that—and a wink—she follows Tommy back to the area where she's supposedly needed. He walks back to pick up Thea, but an errant thought stops him cold in his tracks.

Did Felicity Smoak just blow off Tommy Merlyn for him?