Felicity only agrees to go out with Oliver Queen to appease Laurel, who has been bugging her for weeks to meet Tommy's best friend.

"Ollie's great," Laurel tells her for what is probably the thousandth time. For the past week, she's done nothing but talk about how great and perfect and amazing Oliver is, and Felicity's more than a little worried that the hard sell is a bad sign. "You're going to love him."

"If he's so great why don't you date him?" Felicity asks, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her neck as she sorts through the messy stack papers on her desk, looking for the IT request the Head of Accounting supposedly sent to her office this morning. In hard copy. She's going to have send out yet another reminder that all forms should be submitted electronically.

"I'm with Tommy," Laurel reminds her, as though it would be possible to forget that the two of them have been joined at the hip for the past six months. "Besides, Ollie and I did date. Back in high school."

"So you didn't want him, and now you're trying to pawn him off on me?" Felicity says, finding the form and doing a quick celebratory fist pump.

"I'm not pawning him off on you, Felicity." Laurel says, and from the tone of her voice she sounds like she's rolling her eyes. "I just think you'll like him. Plus, Tommy and I are getting serious, so you really should meet Oliver."

"Meet, yeah. I get that. I would be completely and totally fine with meeting Oliver Queen. But why do we have to go on a date?" Felicity asks. In her experience, blind dates are always a recipe for disaster, and she can't imagine why this one would be any different. Felicity doesn't think she has a type, but if she did, it would definitely not be billionaire playboys.

"How long has it been since you've been on a date?" Laurel asks, using her lawyer voice.

"A year," Felicity admits. Which, yes, that makes her sound more than a little pathetic, but she's still getting used to Starling City, and she's adjusting to her job at Queen Consolidated, and she's just been really, really busy, okay?

"A year," Laurel repeats. "That is insane and totally unacceptable. You deserve to find a great guy, and Ollie is a great guy."

"Wasn't he on TMZ last week for peeing on a cop?"

"That was...a misunderstanding," Laurel says carefully.

Felicity snorts. "Right."

"Okay, so, he's made some mistakes," Laurel concedes. "But Ollie's gorgeous and he's charming and he's just...he's a really great guy. I promise."

"Ugh, Laurel, I don't know..."

"Please, Felicity?" Laurel begs. "Go out on a date with the super-hot billionaire? I'll be your best friend."

"You're already my best friend," Felicity says. The truth is, she knows this is probably going to be a complete disaster. Tommy's great and all, but Felicity really doesn't want to date one of his entitled trust-fund frat boy friends. Especially not one with the reputation of Oliver Queen. But it's one date and it'll make Laurel happy, so:

"Fine," she says, relenting. "I'll do it."

"Yay! Thank you, Felicity," Laurel says, and she sounds so happy that Felicity's glad she agreed. "You are not going to regret this. You and Ollie are going to totally love each other, I promise."

Felicity's first date with Oliver is supposed to be lunch on a Friday afternoon at a burger place a couple of blocks from Queen Consolidated. Even though the venue isn't exactly fancy, she still woke up an hour early so she could blow-dry her hair and try on a few different outfits. She ended up going with a borderline work-inappropriate pink dress with a flared skirt and the highest pair of heels she owns, a choice she regrets after walking the four blocks from her office to Big Belly Burger. Which is why she opts for going ahead and getting a table for two to wait for Oliver, not sure if her feet can take it if she has to stand and wait for him to arrive.

Last night, when they talked on the phone, Laurel warned her that Oliver isn't exactly known for his punctuality, so Felicity brought her tablet with her, just in case, telling herself she would only bring it out in the most dire of circumstances. She tries to give Oliver the benefit of the doubt, she really does, but when the waitress comes by to refill her water glass for the third time, she decides she's had enough. She goes ahead and orders the Big Belly Buster with a chocolate shake and pulls out her tablet, figuring at the very least she can work on a particularly tricky bit of code she's been having trouble with all morning. At least this way, her lunch hour won't be a total loss.

Felicity has managed to make some progress on the code and is sucking down the dregs of the shake when Oliver finally shows up, wearing worn-in jeans and army green henley and looking like he just rolled out of bed. He's got dark circles under his eyes and what is probably a week's worth of stubble on his cheeks, but even with all of that, he is undeniably gorgeous. At least Laurel wasn't lying about that.

"Felicity Smoak?" he says, coming up to her table and giving her an easy smile, like he's not an hour late. "Hi, I'm Oliver Queen."

"Hello, Oliver Queen," Felicity says, trying to sound bored and not at all impressed by his whole tall, built, super-hot thing. "You're late."

Oliver blinks, but then his smile actually gets a little wider. "Would you believe I was saving an orphan?" he asks.

When her only reaction is a skeptical look over the top of her glasses, he adds, "And a puppy?"

Felicity smiles despite herself, locking her tablet and turning off the display. "An orphan and a puppy, huh?"

"Yep," Oliver says, still smiling that easy smile, a smile that only falters when she slips her tablet into her bag and pushes back her chair. "Uh…" he says. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes," Felicity tells him, hooking her bag over her arm and smoothing down her skirt. "I'm going back to work. My lunch hour is over."

"But we have a date." His confusion would be endearing if Felicity hadn't just wasted an hour of her incredibly busy day waiting for him to show up. Not that it was entirely wasted, since the food was actually pretty good and she did manage to get some work done on her tablet, but still. The point stands.

"No, we had a date," Felicity corrects. "Which you were obscenely late for, and which is now, sadly, over before it's even begun."

"Sadly?" he repeats, picking up on what was probably the least important part of that sentence.

"Yes, 'sadly.' Because I was actually kind of looking forward to meeting you, since you're Tommy's best friend and Laurel has completely talked you up, telling me how great and handsome and charming you are. But now I've got to go to work, so sadly, I'm not going to know if any of those things are true. Except obviously the handsome part. I mean, you're very attractive, which, I'm sure you know that, you've seen you, and…" She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, silently counting backwards from three. "Anyway," she says, opening her eyes. "It was very nice to meet you, Oliver, but I need to get back to work."

One corner of his mouth twitches in amusement, but other than that, Oliver doesn't react to her babbling. That, at least, is a mark in his favor. "Tommy said you work at Queen Consolidated."

"I do," she confirms, feeling a little off-balance at the sudden change of subject. "I'm in the IT department."

The smiles comes back in full force. "Well then, you're in luck," he says. He takes a step closer to her, getting right into her personal space. He really is ridiculously attractive, and he smells kind of amazingly good, like sandalwood and leather. "It just so happens that I've got an in with the boss, and I know for a fact he wouldn't mind if you took an extra hour for lunch."

Felicity rolls her eyes. See? This is exactly why she is not - and will never be - interested in Oliver Queen, no matter how handsome he is and how nice he smells. She's spent her entire life working her butt off to get where she is, and he wants to just swoop in and throw his family's name and power around to get what he wants? No, thank you.

"Well, as tempting as that offer is, I've got a desk full of work orders that I would like to finish before this weekend," she tells him. "And an extra hour at lunch just means that I'm going to have to stay an extra hour at work tonight, which means it'll be all dark and creepy and empty in the parking garage when I finally leave, which means I'll probably give myself a panic attack thinking that there's some kind of nefarious bad guy lurking in my backseat, waiting to accost me, and really, I just...I need to get back to work now."

"You think there's going to be someone lurking in your backseat if you stay late at work?" Oliver asks, bemused.

Felicity feels herself blush, feeling more than a little silly. "I mean, no. Probably not," she says with as much dignity as she can muster.

He smiles a little wider at that, and Felicity has to remind herself that, no matter how unbelievably attractive Oliver is, he stood her up for their date - a date, Felicity wants it to be noted, she didn't even want to go on in the first place - and totally wasted a huge chunk of her afternoon.

So Felicity resists the smile that's tugging at the corner of her mouth; she is not going to be charmed by Oliver Queen. Not now, not ever. So she keeps her face neutral as she squares her shoulders, tilting her chin up to look him in the eye.

"Goodbye, Oliver," she says. "It was nice to meet you."

"But…" Oliver starts to protest, but Felicity's already turning away, heading for the door and leaving him standing in the middle of the restaurant alone.

The next time Felicity sees Oliver, she's standing at the bar at Tommy and Laurel's engagement party, trying to get the bartender's attention.

Her attempts are somewhat impeded by the couple next to her, both of whom seem more interested in groping each other than getting anything to drink. Felicity rolls her eyes and ducks around them, leaning over the bar until she catches the bartender's eye and holds up her empty wine glass. He nods and Felicity sits back, casting an irritated glance at the couple before realizing with a start that the guy is none other than Oliver Queen. Ugh. Of course.

Unfortunately, he and the girl break apart just as Felicity glances in their direction, and Oliver's gaze meets hers. Shit. Felicity turns away quickly in what she hopes is a subtle, not-at-all-obvious move of avoidance, silently willing him not to recognize her.

But then: "Felicity," Oliver says, pulling away from the woman he's with and giving Felicity that same easy smile that he flashed at her all those months ago when he basically stood her up at lunch.

"Oliver Queen," she says, taking her glass of red wine from the bartender and turning towards Oliver. The woman with him turns to face her, and Felicity starts a little in surprise. "...and Sara Lance?"

"Hey, Felicity," Sara says with a bright smile, leaning over to give Felicity a hug.

Felicity hugs her back, narrowing her eyes at Oliver over Sara's shoulder. Ugh, it figures that he'd be making out with Laurel's kid sister at her engagement party.

But Oliver furrows his brow, like he's confused as to why she might be glaring at him. "What?" he mouths, but before she gets a chance to answer, Sara's pulling back to stand next to Oliver, smiling at the two of them.

"I didn't know you two knew each other," Sara says, bumping her shoulder against Oliver's.

"We don't," Felicity says, just as Oliver says, "We dated."

Oliver tilts his head, frowning at her, and Felicity rolls her eyes.

Sara raises her eyebrows as she looks between the two of them, smirking a little. "O-kaaaay. Well, I'm going to go rescue my sister from the country club brigade over there –" She nods to where Laurel's looking pained as a group of middle-aged women in pearls and Chanel suits ooh and ahh over her engagement ring. "Why don't you two decide if you know each other or not," Sara says, her mouth curled up in an amused half-smile. "It was good seeing you again, Felicity. You too, Ollie." She trails a suggestive hand across his shoulder, winking at him as she heads over to Laurel.

"Hooking up with you ex-girlfriend's sister," Felicity says once Sara's out of earshot. "Classy."

"What? Like Laurel's going to care?" He takes a sip of his drink, and gestures towards the other side of the room where Sara is expertly extricating Laurel from the gaggle of women. "You know, I don't think she's stopped smiling since Tommy proposed."

"I know," Felicity agrees. "It's kind of gross, right?" Oliver arches an eyebrow and Felicity feels her cheeks get hot.

"I mean, not gross gross," she backpedals. "Cute gross, like they're the most sickeningly adorable couple in the world, with their gorgeousness and their being happy and in love, and I am totally in no way even a little bit jealous, and, hey, feel free to interrupt my babbling anytime..."

Oliver laughs a little at that, but there's no malice in it. "No, I agree actually. It is a little gross. I can't believe Tommy's actually getting married." He shakes his head and takes a long drink. "Traitor."

"What, did you guys have some kind of no-marriage pact or something? Swore on a pile of supermodels that you'd stay single and carefree forever?"

"Not forever. But I mean," he says, shaking his head in dismay. "Tommy's not even thirty yet."

"I know, but maybe it's different when you find the one. Like why wait, you know? When you meet that person, you probably don't want to waste any more time."

"That...is incredibly sappy, Felicity."

Felicity laughs. "Yeah, I know. I'm just...I'm really happy for them."

"Yeah," Oliver says, in this voice like it's painful for him to admit it. "Me too."

Laurel and Tommy get married on a bright, sunny summer afternoon in June with all the pomp and circumstance Laurel's always dreamed of at her wedding.

Because she's the maid of honor and he's the best man, Felicity and Oliver walk down the aisle together, her arm looped through his, and for all his traitor talk at the engagement party, he can't seem to stop smiling.

By the time the ceremony's over, Felicity's actually starting to feel something like affection for him, which he manages to ruin less than twenty minutes into the reception when she walks in on him and Joanna, one of Laurel's other bridesmaids, in the back hallway of the reception venue, his pants undone and his hand up Joanna's dress.

"Seriously?" Felicity says, and Oliver smirks even as Joanna gives her an embarrassed smile.

"Close the door on your way out, would you?" he calls, and Felicity rolls her eyes, stomping away and wondering for the millionth time what on earth Laurel and Tommy see in this guy.

Felicity manages to avoid Oliver for most of the reception, standing as far from him as possible during the pictures and sitting at the opposite end of the table all through dinner.

It's not until Laurel and Tommy's first dance that she lets her guard down enough to not realize Oliver's right behind her.

"I need your help," he says, right in her ear.

Felicity sighs and rolls her eyes. "With what?"

"Dance with me?" Oliver says, and before he even waits for her answer, he's taking her by the hand and dragging her onto the dance floor.

"How is this me helping you?" Felicity asks, ignoring the way her stomach flips slightly as he rests one hand on her hip.

Oliver nods over her shoulder and then maneuvers them around until she can see Joanna standing on the edge of the dance floor trying to get Oliver's attention.

"Seriously?" Felicity reaches up and slaps Oliver on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "You're already avoiding her?"

"She's being really clingy," Oliver says. "It's off-putting."

"Ugh," Felicity says, stopping mid-step and pulling away from him. "What is wrong with you?"

"Come on, Felicity," he says, and he gives her a sideways smile that she's sure has gotten him out of all kinds of dicey situations. "Besides, the truth of it is, Joanna's not the bridesmaid I'm actually interested in."

"Laurel said that you and Sara weren't a thing anymore, that she'd gotten back together with her girlfriend." She steps closer to him again, his hand landing back on her hip.

"I'm not talking about Sara either," Oliver says, leaning down to talk to her in a low voice, his lips brushing her ear, and she's so distracted by the feeling of his breath against her skin that it takes her a couple of seconds to realize what he means.

"Are you seriously hitting on me right now?" she asks, not even bothering to hide her exasperation.

"Maybe," Oliver says with that same little sideways smile. He presses his hand lightly against the small of her back, gently guiding her across the dance floor. You know, it's too bad he's such a terrible person; he really is kind of charming. "Is it working?"

"Not even a little," she lies, but she slides her hand up his shoulder again, leaning in so that her cheek is resting against his chest. He's solid and warm, and she can hear his heart beat.

"Too bad," Oliver says, shaking his head with mock-disappointment. "After Sara and Joanna, I was going for the bridesmaid trifecta."

Ugh. He really is the worst.