Title and lyrics from P!nk's 'True Love'.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Why do you rub me up the wrong way?
Why do you say the things that you say?
Sometimes I wonder how we ever came to be
But without you I'm incomplete

Felicity wipes down the last table, whistling the tune of one of those catchy pop songs that she'd heard on the radio earlier. Her gaze drifts over the almost empty diner and lands on the oversized clock above the door: 1.49am. Only a little over two hours until Dig and Lyla come in to take over for the morning shift.

She moves back behind the counter after checking that the two customers that are currently occupying one booth still have enough coffee.

"I'm stepping out for a smoke," Ted, their nightshift cook, lets her know through the little opening in the wall that connects the kitchen with the counter.

She barely gives him a nod of acknowledgement. It's not like they're busy anyway.

Checking one more time with a quick glance that the two lone customers are still happy, she digs into her purse and takes out her tablet, ready to get some more coding done for her class project.

She positions herself so that the one occupied booth is in her peripheral vision and begins typing, losing herself in the strings of code, while always keeping an eye on her customers. Oh, isn't the art of multi-tasking a beautiful thing?

After a while, the couple gets up from their seats, they put some bills on the table and give her a friendly nod before leaving the diner.

Felicity sighs and puts down her tablet, quickly clearing their cups and leaning over the table to clean it. The ringing of the bell over the door alerts her to the arrival of new customers. Because just one minute of peace and quiet is apparently too much to ask for.

"Hot damn, girl, you sure know how to welcome your customers, all bend over and ready," a deep, sleazy voice exclaims excitedly, followed by some whooping and cheering from his friends.

Clenching her jaw in an attempt to reign in her temper, she takes a second to inhale and exhale deeply a few times before plastering on a fake smile and turning around slowly.

Five guys in their early twenties are standing in front of her, none of them bothering to hide their appraising looks going up and down her body.

Yup, this is one of those situations when Felicity wishes her scholarship covered more than just her tuition. But no, she has to work for a minimum wage and lousy tips to afford the expensive living costs in Boston, all while getting through MIT on an accelerated curriculum. She doesn't even remember the last time she had a consecutive eight hours of sleep.

Sleazy One, the same guy that made that first comment, steps towards her with a predatory smile on his lips. As he comes closer the strong smell of whiskey hits her.

Great, serving drunken assholes is exactly what she was hoping to end her shift with.

"What can I get you guys?" she asks with fake cheer.

"A round of coffee, curly fries and blowjobs for everybody," Sleazy One says, running one of his hands through his short, dark brown hair and pursing his lips in what he probably thinks is a sexy move. It's not.

The others are cheering for their sleazy leader again. "Or at least for our man Ollie who just moved out here to start a new chapter of his life," Sleazy Two suggest, patting the dirty blond haired guy next to him on the shoulder.

"I definitely wouldn't mind that," the guy who she presumes to be 'Ollie' (what a stupid name) says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, albeit a little half-heartedly.

Uh, no thanks.

"How about you guys sit down and I'll get you those coffees and fries?" she suggests, barely keeping herself from kicking them out for being rude assholes.

She flees into the kitchen where Ted has returned to his post, snatches a fresh pot of coffee and five mugs and tells the cook about the order.

Bracing herself for the lewd comments, she reenters the main room, catching some of the guys' conversation.

"I'm telling you, Ollie, you'll have the best time here. Some of those Harvard girls are really freaking hot, and we know all the places where they like to hang out," Sleazy One assures 'Ollie' seriously, only slurring his words a little bit.

"And that's why you're my best friend, Tommy," 'Ollie' says, giving the other man a high five.

Felicity rolls her eyes. Single-minded imbeciles.

She tops off all their mugs, ignoring their looks as best as she can. You need the money, Felicity. You need the money. Only one more year and you're done, she tells herself over and over again in her head.

"Can I get you anything else to eat or drink?" That doesn't involve me getting on my knees in front of you, her mind completes the question.

"Your number," 'Ollie' (and yeah, nope, that name makes him sound like he's a five year old and she's gonna call him… mhhh… Oliver in her head from now on) shoots back without missing a beat, tilting his head a little to the side.

And okay, he looks kinda cute when he does that. His blue eyes are drilling into her and his jaw is really working it, but on the other hand his hair is just too long and makes him look like the poster child of all frat boys.

"Since I'm new here you could show me around. I promise to be extremely grateful and pay you back with the best orgasm of your life," Oliver continues, his eyes slowly raking over her body.

Aaaaand he just lost that last shred of appeal.

Is he for real?

"Nothing then. I'll come back with your order of fries in a few minutes," she replies with a tight-lipped smile and turns around, debating if Diggle would fire her for hitting all of those guys with a cast iron pan.

She avoids their table as much as she can, giving them the bare minimum of services and she knows she should put more effort into it –drunk frat boys are infamous for leaving massive tips- but she just can't take their level of lewd behavior.

No, you're doing the right thing, she tells herself. Hold on to some of your dignity.

An hour and countless sexist remarks later, she brings them the check and they finally get up to leave, but for some reason Oliver stays behind in the booth. Curious, she makes her way over there.

When she gets closer she can see him fumbling around with a wad of bills. Can't he just get on with it?

He looks up at her when she steps into his peripheral vision and squints his eyes at her name tag. "Tell me, Felicity, what's an appropriate tip for tonight?"

"There's no amount of money in the world that would make up for your behavior tonight," she mumbles under her breath and then louder, "Whatever you deem appropriate will be appreciated."

He frowns at her, and oops, it's possible that he heard her first comment.

He studies her for a few long seconds before putting a hundred dollar bill on the table. "Keep the change," he says nonchalantly and gets up to leave.

"What?" she asks, confused.

"Keep it," he shrugs. "For your troubles."

She scoffs and digs into the wallet of the diner to take out the exact change, slamming it on the table. "My troubles? You and your friends did nothing but disrespect and verbally harass me tonight. Throwing money at me doesn't make that behavior any more acceptable, so why don't you just put this where the sun doesn't shine and hopefully I'll never have to see any of you again," she spits out and whirls around to stalk off.

She makes it two steps until another thought hits her that she just has to get off her chest, so she turns around again, taking a little pride in his dumbfounded expression. "By the way, your haircut is horrible. Shorter hair would suit you much better."

She basically runs off into the kitchen, letting out a huge sigh of relief when she hears the little door bell ring. Way to stick it to him, Smoak.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She barely thinks of that night in the next few weeks, too occupied with finishing her project and school and work in general.

Okay, that's not entirely true. She does think of that night quite a lot. And when she does there are flashes of azure blue eyes and a well-defined jawline. First, he and his friends seriously made her question her job choice, and then Oliver started haunting her in her dreams. Goodbye, sanity.

She just started her shift and the diner is still buzzing with the late dinner crowd when she hears the doorbell ring again. She looks up and can't help but smile and lift her hand in a wave.

Thea has become one of her favorite customers over the last few months and not just because she leaves amazing tips. No, from the first moment the Harvard freshman stepped into the diner they'd hit it off. Be it talking about fashion or Felicity helping the young brunette with some of her assignments, she always manages to brighten up her shift.

Felicity's hand awkwardly freezes mid-air and the smile slips off her face when she sees that none other than Oliver (yes, that Oliver) steps into the diner after her. So much for never seeing him again.

As always, Thea finds a window booth in her section and so Felicity really doesn't have a choice but to go over there. While she's navigating past the other patrons she has some time to observe Oliver. He looks different than last time. His hair is shorter and his jaw is covered by a light scruff. Damn it, he looks hot. And he actually took her advice about the haircut.

"Hey, Thea, what can I get you guys?" she asks when she reaches the table.

"Hey, Felicity," the younger woman exclaims excitedly, bouncing around in her seat. "I want you to meet my brother Oliver. He moved here a few weeks ago and he's single. Just FYI, I think the two of you would look really cute together."

"Never gonna happen," she replies without thinking.

Seriously? He's her brother? What are the odds?

Thea's face falls. "What? Why not?"

"Because I already had the immense displeasure of meeting your brother and I can assure you that he couldn't be farther away from my idea of a boyfriend," she retorts, locking her eyes defiantly on Oliver who winces visibly.

Thea whirls around to face her brother. "What the hell did you do?"

His eyes flicker between hers and his sister's. "I… uh… I…"

Smirking at his discomfort, Felicity's good mood returns. "The usual for you, Thea?"

"Yes," the brunette says without lifting her angry glare from Oliver. "Same thing for my brother, please."

The diner is still full enough that she can keep herself busy with attending to the other customers, which is very good because otherwise she'd just be staring at the heated exchange of the two siblings all night. Thea becomes almost irate when her brother speaks and apparently tells her about what happened, and Oliver actually has the decency to look ashamed while he recounts the story.

Usually, Felicity would make some time to sit down with Thea to chat, but tonight she really doesn't feel like it, so she sticks to serving them their food and refilling their glasses. The younger brunette sends her an understanding smile every time she approaches and then quickly leaves their table.

After an hour or so, Thea seems to have had enough of shaking her head disappointedly at whatever her brother is saying, signaling Felicity for the check. Oh great, he'll probably try to bribe his way into her good graces again.

"Just for the record," Thea explains when she reaches their table. "I'm paying, not my idiot brother."

"Hey!" Oliver exclaims indignantly.

"Oh, shut it, Ollie. We all know that nothing good comes of it when you open your mouth," his sister shuts him down, rolling her eyes at him.

Felicity can barely contain the grin that threatens to stretch over her lips at the siblings' antics. "Well, then, thank you, Thea," she says, happy to see that the other woman tipped her as always, not more, not less. "Have a nice weekend and I'll see you next week."

"Uh, Felicity?" Oliver's sheepish voice stops her before she can turn away from them. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Her eyes flicker from his nervous ones to Thea who looks at her brother with curiosity. "I guess I'll wait outside," she says with a frown.

Oliver waits until the door closes behind her, taking a deep breath and motioning to the seat opposite of him. Felicity looks around, making sure that none of her other tables need anything and sits down.

"Look, I wanted to apologize. My behavior towards you the other week was wrong. The things I said were disrespectful and I shouldn't have tried to compensate with a ridiculous tip for my poor choices that night. I'm sorry, Felicity," he says slowly, never taking his eyes off of hers.

She studies him for a moment, annoyed that he sounded so earnest, so different from what she remembers from that night when he'd just been a giant jerk. And damnit, she's still angry at him.

She scoffs, "What? You're not gonna play the I-was-drunk-off-my-ass-and-just-wanted-to-look-as-douchey-as-my-Neanderthal-friends card?"

There's a ghost of a smile on his lips when he listens to her rant. "My mother taught me that a real, sincere apology never comes with an excuse or justification. While I've ignored many things she's told me over the years, including my behavior towards women, as evidenced a few weeks ago, this is one lesson I can't ignore."

He shakes his head a little. "So, no, I'm not playing that card. Being drunk doesn't make the way I treated you any more justifiable. My behavior and comments towards you were completely inappropriate and I never should've acted that way. Drunk or not. I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but I'll never disrespect you or any other woman that way ever again. I'm truly sorry and I hope over time you'll accept my apology."

Well, fuck, he's being sincere.

His lips tick up into a half-smile before he turns around and leaves the diner without another word.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She thinks she probably won't see him again, that he'll avoid the diner as much as possible.

She's wrong, and he doesn't.

Like clockwork, every Wednesday and Saturday he's already there when she comes in for her shift. He's usually alone, his books and notes spread out over the table, while he's typing away on his laptop. He doesn't try to talk to her apart from saying 'hello' and 'thank you' whenever she tops off his coffee or water.

From her female colleagues' dreamy tales of the insanely good-looking guy who comes in every Monday and Friday for lunch and who leaves the best tips, she figures that he's probably not stalking her but maybe actually just coming for the diner's good food and relaxed atmosphere.

When weeks turn into months and she still hasn't really talked to him since his apology, she starts to get more and more curious. He's a bit of a mystery to her. At first, she'd just met him as the partying frat boy who was probably too cool for school, but then he'd been completely different when she'd seen him with Thea.

It makes her wonder if maybe this Oliver, the one that studies hard and is nice to everyone, is the real Oliver, and that the douchey version he'd been that first time had just been an act in front of his friends.

If she's a hundred percent honest with herself, she has to admit that she likes this Oliver. He may not talk to her, but she suspects that's because he's trying to give her the control over their… situation.

The frustrated growl from his booth yanks her out of her thoughts. She quickly prepares two cups of hot chocolate and walks over to him.

"Mind if I join you for a bit?"

His head shoots up, wide, surprised eyes locking on hers. She smiles gently, setting the cups down on the table. His face lights up with a wide smile. "Of course, please sit," he says and motions towards the unoccupied seat opposite of him.

She scoots in and looks down at his notes. "You're studying business?"

"Yeah, trying to anyway," he admits sheepishly. "What's this?" He motions to the cups.

"Hot chocolate. On the house."

"Oh, wow, thanks," he says, but she can still see the glint of surprise in his eyes.

"You looked a little frustrated," she offers as an explanation. "Hot chocolate always helps me relax and concentrate again."

He huffs. "I definitely need it then." He takes a careful sip and smiles at her. "So, how are things with you?"

"Good. I'm on schedule with all my projects and papers, and work here is like always," she shrugs.

"Hopefully without more groups of douchey, drunken frat boys," he quips.

"So far, so good. But speaking of which," she says, seeing him brace himself in anticipation. "I never thanked you for your apology or told you that I accept it."

He bows his head. "Please don't thank me. I never should've said any of those things in the first place."

On impulse, she covers his hand on the table with hers, squeezing lightly. "You're right. But the fact that you apologized means a lot. That's more than I usually get after guys act inappropriately around here. How about we leave all of that in the past and start over?"

"Really?" he asks with a hopeful smile and she nods in response.

He carefully extricates his hand from hers and holds it out for her to shake. "Hi, I'm Oliver Queen."

She places her hand in his, reveling in his comforting warmth. "Hi, Oliver Queen. I'm Felicity Smoak."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

They fall into an easy routine after that. He still comes by at least two nights a week, and as soon as all the other customers have left and she's done with her chores she joins him at his booth and they chat and laugh into the wee hours, sometimes even until her shift ends.

She's pleased to find out that he's incredibly easy to talk to. He's smart and manages to keep her on her toes more often than not with his quick wit and that makes him even more attractive than he already was.

"So, I was thinking," he says one night when she joins him with the obligatory cup of hot chocolate.

"That's always a good thing to do," she teases.

"Smartass," he grumbles good-naturedly and beams at her. "No, seriously, though. I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me some time."

"Go out?" she asks stupidly and immediately wants to bang her head against the table.

He chuckles. "Yes, maybe go see a movie and have dinner?"

She laughs nervously, not quite able to fully grasp what's happening. "That sounds an awful lot like a date."

"Uh, yeah… that's kinda what I was hoping for," he says, carefully watching her reaction.

Her mouth drops open with a surprised "oh" escaping her lips. "You want to go on a date with me? Like a date date?" she tries to clarify.

"Yes, I'd really like that." And holy mothertrucker, is he blushing?

She can't help but gape at him and his ridiculous overall hotness. How's this man even for real? And why the hell is he asking her out?

"Maybe this Friday?" he suggests.

"I'm working on Friday," she blurts out.

"Okay," he nods slowly. "When are you not working?"

"Monday, Tuesday and Thursday."

"How about either of those days then?"

"I'm actually busy on those nights with… school stuff. Study groups and such," she explains, sounding a hundred percent like the nerd she is.

The last bit of his hopeful smile falls and his expression resembles that of a little puppy that lost his favorite toy, and god damnit, if that sight doesn't physically hurt her.

"Oh, I see." He looks down at his lap and fidgets with the zipper of his sweater.

"Oliver…" she tries, unsure what she can say, but is interrupted by the doorbell and if that isn't the worst fracking timing in the world, she doesn't know.

"I have to go," she says and points her thumb over her shoulder towards the new customer.

"Yeah, of course. You gotta work," he scrambles up from his seat as well and starts shoving his things into his messenger bag. "I think I'm gonna head home."

"Oliver…"

"Listen, let's just forget the last five minutes ever happened, okay? It was stupid of me to even ask. I just thought that there was… that we…" He shakes his head sadly and chuckles acerbically, "But you're right, of course, after everything that happened I wouldn't wanna go out with me either. I'll… see you around."

"Oliver that's not-"

"Is there any service around here or should I get my own damn coffee?" She gets cut off by the angry voice of the new customer and she turns around to placate the older man. "I'll be right there, sir."

By the time she turns back, Oliver has already brushed past her and the door closes behind him with a soft thud and the ringing of the bell.

Why couldn't she have just said yes for once in her life?

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

She hasn't seen him in almost two weeks. Two weeks!

And after all this time, all the night shifts she's spent waiting and hoping for him to come back, she has to admit that she misses him. Until now she hadn't even realized how much more fun and bearable he always made her shifts. But now that he's not there anymore, she's gone back to the boring, monotone, seemingly never-ending nights. And she hates it! She just wants to go back in time, slap some sense into her past self, and say 'hell yes' to Oliver.

The doorbell rings and she hears a vaguely familiar voice. "Oh, hell yeah, the blonde chick is here again."

She closes her eyes quickly. Great, Sleazy One and his posse of equally dim-witted imbeciles.

Her eyes fly open instantly, wildly searching for Oliver among his friends, but one quick glance tells her that he's not there. She's torn between being glad that he's not getting drunk with these guys anymore, and sad that he's not there to support her.

"I think tonight it's my turn to take a crack at her," Sleazy Two says, stalking towards her, but Sleazy One's hand shoots out to stop him.

"You know the code. Gotta ask Ollie first if he forfeits his claim," Sleazy One lectures him and whips out his phone, typing furiously.

What the actual fuck? Claim? Forfeiting? Did she land in some Middle Ages parallel universe without realizing?

"Forget about the stupid code. It's not like Ollie's been hanging out with us since that first night he came to town. He doesn't really deserve to be included in the code," Sleazy Two argues petulantly.

"I think you should leave," she hears herself say in a calm and steady voice. Huh, where had that come from?

The reality is that she's scared. Ted left ten minutes ago to take care of his sick child after a lot of reassuring from her that she had everything under control. And any other night that would've been the truth. From 11pm to 5am they have a smaller menu with dishes that she's more than capable of preparing, so she hadn't thought much of it when she'd sent their cook home. Except for the fact that that left her all by herself.

In the light of day, she's 98 percent sure that, none of these guys would even think about hurting her, but given the late hour and the fact that they're clearly inebriated, she wouldn't bet on her safety right about now.

"What did you say?" Sleazy Two asks, turning his anger on her.

She swallows. Way to poke the bear, Smoak.

She backs up a few steps. "I said that I think you should leave," she repeats and this time her voice is wavering. Traitor!

The guys laugh in unison like she just said the funniest thing. "Baby, we're paying customers," Sleazy Two sneers and stalks towards her. "So you better do what we're paying you to do, otherwise I'll see to it myself that you get fired."

He reaches around her and grabs a fork from the counter behind her, wiggling it in front of her for a second before dropping it. "Whoops, would you be so kind and get down on your knees and pick that up for me, sugar?"

She gapes at him in shock. She will absolutely not do that.

"Bite me," she growls through gritted teeth.

"Only because you asked so nicely," the dirt bag says and takes another step towards her, effectively trapping her between his body and the hard edge of the counter. His hands land on her ass, squeezing too tightly.

"If you don't take your hands off of her right now, I swear I will kill you, Bowen," Oliver's voice thunders from the door.

Oh thank god.

'Bowen' instantly drops his hands and takes a step back, giving her enough space to scramble away. She looks up to meet Oliver's stormy eyes across the room and nods ever so slightly to indicate she's okay. Some of the tension seems to leave his body, but he's still visibly boiling with anger.

"Get out," he growls at the other men.

Sleazy One steps forward, holding up one hand in an attempt to control the situation. "Come on, Ollie, he was just messing around."

"Messing around? Tommy, he was sexually harassing my girlfriend," Oliver yells at him.

Girlfriend? Well, that's new.

"That chick's your girlfriend?" Sleazy Three asks skeptically, while the others size her up.

"Yes, Max, that woman is my girlfriend and you'd do well to treat her right. You don't want to find out what I'd do to you otherwise," Oliver growls lowly.

And okay, protective Oliver is super hot and she's not sure if she's turned on or pissed off because he's going all caveman on these other guys.

She sees him clench his right fist and his biceps swells up under the short sleeve of his t-shirt for a moment. Turned on it is.

"Alright, alright," 'Tommy' steps in. "Let's all calm down, everybody. We don't wanna step on anyone's toes here, so we should just leave and call it a night, boys."

"Best idea you ever had, Tommy," Oliver mocks while making his way past the guys and over to her.

She swallows hard when his thumb runs over her cheek. His softly spoken "You okay?" is so full of genuine concern that she almost starts to cry.

How can he go from growly caveman to impossibly sweet teddy bear in 0.2 seconds?

The Sleazy Gang files out of the diner slowly, but not without Sleazy Two lamenting that he "didn't get to do that fine ass". She has to wrap her arm around Oliver's waist and press herself against his body to keep him from going after him.

The door finally falls shut behind them and Oliver and Felicity are left alone and in complete silence. She's still pressed against him and takes a deep breath, inhaling his scent. It's an oddly calming thing and she snuggles further into him, her cheek rubbing against his chest until she finds a comfortable spot.

She can feel the laugh rumble through his chest before she hears it tumble from his lips. "I guess you're a cuddler, then," he surmises, running his hands gently over her back.

"Hmm," she hums into the fabric of his shirt. Wow, adrenaline is a funny thing, pushing you to new heights in one second and draining you of all energy the next. "I figured that would be one of the perks of being your girlfriend: getting to cuddle with all of this hotness."

His hands still. "Yeah, about that. I'm sorry, it was the easiest way I could think of to get them to back down permanently."

She lifts her head from his chest and looks up, meeting his apologetic eyes. "That a part of your code thing?"

He nods, his face pulled into a grimace. "Going after someone's girlfriend goes against just about everything. Carter knows that he'd be kicked out of the fraternity within seconds if he went after one of his 'brothers'' girlfriends."

She shakes her head in disbelief before burrowing it in his chest again. Fraternities… go figure.

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?"

"We're still cuddling," Oliver points out, an amused tilt to his voice.

"I know," she sighs happily. "It's amazing."

"Does that mean that you wanna know the rest of the perks of being my girlfriend?"

She leans back in his embrace, looking up at his gorgeous, hopeful smile. "What if I said yes?"

He sobers a little. "Kinda depends on whether this is just an emotional reaction to what happened earlier or because you really want it." He sounds nervous and unsure and it's incredibly endearing.

She lifts her hands from under his shirt (huh, when did that happen?) and cups his face. "I really want this, Oliver," she assures him, taking pride in the way his eyes light up with hope. "I missed you these last couple of weeks and I've kept reprimanding myself for not saying yes to the date. I really, really wanted to say yes, but it's also true that my schedule is insane with school and work and everything."

He leans down and fuses their lips together in a gentle kiss. "As long as you want to try, I'm happy."

She leans up to kiss him again. "Hmm," she hums contently. "We'll find a way to make it work."

⁂ ⁂ ⁂