Author's Note: So I have absolutely been obsessed with RHODES's album, Wishes. Just...ah. If you have the chance to listen to it, it is absolutely the most beautiful, poetic, sensual, emotional album, and so many of the songs remind me of Oliver and Felicity. In fact, each part of this story is inspired by a song from the album. All the parts will tie together to tell a story of rebuilding trust, finding acceptance, overcoming obstacles, and reclaiming love with season 5 as a backdrop. Obviously, season 5 hasn't begun airing yet, so anything that I mention as happening is just conjecture based on the dabbles of spoilers that have been released about season 5.

Musical inspiration for this chapter is "Intro" by RHODES. Check it out!

Obviously, as a DISCLAIMER, I should mention that all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

This first part is rated (a light) T, but ratings will vary by installment.

And before you ask, chapter 15 of All in a Day's Work is written and will be posted soon. :)

Part One: The Sexiest Mayor Alive Gets a Plus One

Oliver Queen had faced obstacles all his life, some trivial, some life-or-death. From convincing his dad when he was sixteen that he needed that Porsche to surviving purgatory itself in his early to mid twenties to facing down Ra's al Ghul on the top of a mountain, he had seen every challenge imaginable. Very little surprised him anymore, but this morning, he was absolutely flabbergasted. There it was in glossy newness staring him in the face. Hell, he was staring at his own face. People Magazine. Bold, yellow letters. Oliver Queen: Sexiest Man Alive.

Ten years ago, he would have gotten a kick out of the "honor" and enjoyed the attention—particularly from the female population—that it afforded him. With that type of publicity, he could be in the middle of the desert and not have a dry spell. Now? It was making his morning inconvenient, to say the least.

Local television reporters had been waiting for him when he got to city hall:

"Will this be a distraction from the work at hand, Mayor Queen?" Randall Kolby asked as he shoved a microphone in Oliver's face as he tried to make it to his office.

"Only if the media makes it into one," was his clipped reply. He was sure he'd be hearing about that from Stella Sinclair, the political advisor the board of aldermen hired to ease Oliver into his role as mayor.

His assistant Daphne, who had managed to outlast (read: survive) several mayoral administrations, was on the brink of quitting because she was so frazzled.

"Mr. Queen, the phone hasn't stopped ringing since I got here. I can't hear myself think, and I've not even had my first cup of coffee!"

Oliver remembered all too well from Felicity how truly dangerous it was to face the day without proper caffeination, so he made his way to the break room to brew a cup for Daphne in the community Keurig as a peace offering. Daphne accepted the truce, at least until lunch time.

Then there was the city government's public relations firm, which wanted to know why Oliver wasn't going through proper channels (i.e. them) for publicity.

"This doesn't buy you any political capital, Mayor Queen, and it detracts from the dignity of the office of mayor."

"Right. Because I campaigned to be the Sexiest Mayor Alive."

How was he supposed to do his job as mayor if the phone lines were being overrun from reporters, annoyed aldermen, and ardent female constituents and even a few male ones? More than that, how was he going to conceal his identity as the Green Arrow if he was under constant scrutiny and surveillance?

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

He needed to leave the circus behind and focus on the matters at hand, namely, Star City was in trouble financially. No shock there. They had faced three "terrorist" attacks in three years. Even with Team Arrow working to shut down the crime syndicates and even petty crimes, the city's reputation was tarnished. Several companies looking to expand into Star City decided against it. Insurance premiums would be too high, they argued. A number of citizens were abandoning the city in favor of greener pastures.

Immediately upon becoming mayor, Oliver had asked every city department head to submit a "state of the department" report to him. The results had been less than encouraging. Sanitation had already spent the entire year's budget and then some. Funny how battles on the street, riots, and looting tended to make messes. If they were going to continue to provide basic services, like residential and business trash pickup, Oliver needed to find more money somewhere. One of the aldermen reminded him that they could raise taxes and earmark the revenue for particular ventures, but Oliver was not receptive. The people of Star City had already suffered enough.

Then there was the issue with the city's police force being seriously depleted. In the police commissioner's report, he noted the mortality rate amongst police officer's nationwide was 0.0049%. In Star City, that rate was astronomically higher in comparison at 5.5%. That did not take into consideration the many job-related injuries the Star City PD incurred. As a result, many of the ones who were still able-bodied were quitting in droves, which in turn, made the already diminished force become spread that much thinner and made their jobs that much more difficult.

Oliver was also responsible for interviewing job candidates for an interim district attorney until an election could take place. That one stung the most. He shook his head. Laurel. From the time they were just kids, Laurel was always so determined to make a difference. How many times had he scoffed at the idea that she was trying to save the world? What was it she always told Tommy and him? "No man is an island. We all have to do our parts." It took going to an island for Oliver to realize she was right, even if his brand of justice wasn't what she had in mind.

A knock on the office door interrupted his thoughts. Probably Daphne with the files he asked her to pull. With the phone calls she was fielding, he had closed the door to get some peace and quiet. "Come in," he called absentmindedly, returning his attention to the report before him.

He heard the familiar cadence of high heels. "You look busy."

Definitely not Daphne.

His heart leapt in his chest. In the two weeks since he took the oath of office, he had seen her, but it was always after hours at his other job, never in the light of day. Their conversations focused on Team Arrow business and filling the voids left by their team members.

He sucked in a breath as he drank her in. Just her presence was enough to make the tension in his shoulders begin to ebb. Today, her blonde hair was pulled back into its customary high ponytail, and her full lips were a bright pink. His first instinct when he saw her was still to greet her with a kiss, to run his fingers through her silky blonde tresses. He thought back to the last time they kissed. If only he'd known then that their kisses were numbered and they wouldn't have the rest of their lives together, maybe he would have savored them more.

"Never too busy for an old friend, Felicity." He stood to greet her, but as soon as he did, he was uncertain what was appropriate given their situation. Shaking hands with her? That didn't seem right. Kissing her on the cheek? Was that too much? However, she was carrying a potted plant, which helped make the decision for him. "May I?" he asked, indicating the plant.

"Yes, please." She handed it over to him, and he caught her scent as he walked past her. If freshness and light could be translated into a scent, it would smell like Felicity.

"It's time to break the curse of the mayor's office."

"Since when do you believe in curses?" he asked.

"After everything you've seen, you don't? Consider the plant an office warming gift. I really meant to get over here sooner, I just…" Her voice trailed off before she added, "Anway, I thought this place could use a little life since everything that comes out is cold and dead." Her eyes widened in horror at the realization of what she'd just said. "Not that I'm saying that's going to happen to you. You've defied the odds thus far. Mostly."

He had missed this. For a time after their breakup, she said as little as possible to him. Then when she did speak, it was passive aggressive. This was…this was the Felicity he remembered before everything. This was his friend. "Two weeks and counting as mayor."

She straightened her glasses. "I should have gotten you one of those display boards that keeps a count of days without incident. 'Fourteen days as mayor without workplace injuries, masked gunmen, or maniacal villains.' But…yeah. I went with a plant."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're worried about me," he teased. Upon seeing her eyes flicker, he stiffened. Was that too much? He breathed out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He needed to relax, not second-guess every word, every movement. She was just important.

"If anyone can take care of himself, it's you, but I'd prefer to not have you die on me again. You've already met your quota."

He briefly glimpsed the haunted look on her face. They hadn't known each other when the Queen's Gambit went down, but by the time he left to fight Ra's, Felicity had become his everything, and she had believed him to be dead. She had lived with that belief for months. Then he came back to her only to leave again and effectively 'kill' Oliver to become Al Sahim, all without telling her his plan.

It was his secrecy that eventually broke them. He lost her trust and lost his son for parts unknown in one fell swoop.

He wished he had a redo, but there was no such thing. All he could do was move forward.

"Thank you. For the plant, I mean." He studied the foliage. The leaves were shaped like arrowheads, dark green with large, protruding white veins running through them. Light in the darkness, he thought. How fitting. "It's not a fern. This is…?"

"It's alocasia. Her nickname is Polly."

"Polly? You've named it?"

She shrugged. "I saw an episode of Mythbusters where they tested whether talking to plants will help them grow. Turns out, it does. The kicker is, the plants don't really care if you're nice to them. They just like to be talked to."

"I promise to only say nice things to her," he assured her.

"Your assistant is going to love that I've brought something else for her to do." The poor woman had seemed overwhelmed when Felicity had come through. Fielding phone calls, putting people on hold, she mouthed her apologies as she waved Felicity on back to see Oliver. It was helpful that Oliver evidently established that she had a standing appointment. "Polly isn't like the fern, low light, low maintenance. She requires more care to make her grow. She needs light and just the right amount of moisture. Not too much or she gets overwhelmed. Too little, and she will wither away."

"Felicity, I'll take care of her. I promise."

His words hung in the air between them, and he could see the sharp intake of breath. Her blue eyes sought his, the expression within them a mirror of his own. Endless longing.

Take me home.

Take my love.

Take my soul. It's wrapped in yours.

She finally broke eye contact with him, turning away and looking at the bookshelf. Nothing too personal there, except for a small framed photo of a younger Oliver with Thea, his mom, and his dad. "So my phone has been ringing off the hook. Well, if cell phones had hooks."

"Job offers?" Oliver knew that since being ousted as the CEO of Palmer Technologies, Felicity had been weighing different options. She didn't actually need to work, but she was itching to do something—something that used her skills in a meaningful way. Her work as Overwatch helped to lessen the blow, but she was mostly limited to the night hours, not using her talents in the light of day.

"Not exactly. Reporters and gossip magazines have been calling wanting to know about us. Oh, and I think I saw someone from TMZ outside our place. My place. Outside my place."

Oliver grimaced, partly from the news that she was being harassed, partly from the reminder that they no longer shared a space and barely shared a friendship. "I'm sorry. I wish People had never included me in that list."

"Look on the bright side. You can frame the magazine next to your Star City Man of the Year award."

He groaned. "This is not a prize. Have you…have you read the article?"

She pressed her lips together before answering, "Not yet. But it's a nice cover."

"It's Photoshopped. I don't look like that."

"Actually, you do. Your face is perf—" She cut herself off, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

"Look, I'm glad you're here. I was going to call you."

"Oh?"

"The Star City Women's Auxiliary Club is holding its annual fundraiser gala next Saturday. I'm scheduled to be the keynote speaker."

"Hmmm. That's ironic." He looked at her in confusion. "Well, you're a man. Obviously." She grabbed the magazine from his desk and held it up. "Sexiest man alive. Yay."

He retrieved the magazine and placed it on the desk, face down. "I was wondering if you would be my plus one."

"Oh." She took a step forward. "I thought maybe you were going to tell me to take the night off from Overwatch duties."

"Technically it would be a night off from that. Only, you'd be spending your night off with me. And by spending the night, I don't mean…"

"I know what you mean," she cut in quickly. She licked her lips, her tongue flitting out in that way he loved. "Oliver, we shouldn't blur the lines. You're my partner." She stopped and took a deep breath and considered her words. "My after hours work partner," she clarified, "not my life partner." She looked up at the coffered ceiling of the office. "And I'm doing it, too."

He tried to put her at ease, to salvage something. "It's a political function, Felicity, not a romantic date."

She nodded. "And you need someone to run interference."

"I…" He hadn't thought of it that way. "…suppose." No, not run interference. To share in his life with him. But he thought she was about to dart as it was; he didn't want to risk overwhelming her.

"Have you thought about asking someone else?" She tilted her head, chewing the inside of her cheek, nervous for his response.

He took a step toward her. "Do you want me to ask someone else?"

It was a loaded question. He knew it.

"I see the way women look at you. I want you to be happy, to finally find happiness. Maybe it's time to move on."

Oliver had to stifle back a harsh laugh. He had found happiness. Literally. Felicity meant happiness, and she was his happiness. Didn't she know she was under his skin, etched more deeply, more permanently than even the tattoos that peppered his body?

"Do you want to see someone else?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

How was he going to fade away if she did? Would he be able to stand by and watch her with another man, to build a life with someone else, the life he wanted?

He would have to. If she wanted another man, he would find a way to do it, if that was going to make her happy.

She didn't answer except to say, "I'll be your plus one."