This is a birthday gift for CaptainSummerDay! :-D Happy birthday, hon! It's another future one-shot in my Bratva!Olicity AU. This takes place after Devil's Backbone multi-chapter fic but before "don't care if he's guilty…"

Sorry about this being a bit late, Cap! BIG hugs and happy birthday! :-D

Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or anything therein, it is the property of DC Comics, CW, Marc Guggenheim, Greg Berlanti, Andrew Kreisberg, and anyone else who has a legal claim to it. Devil's Backbone is the property of The Civil Wars and anyone else who has legal claim to it. No profit is being made off the production of this story.

-ARROW-

give me the burden, give me the blame, I'll shoulder the load

In hindsight, Oliver really should've anticipated something like this. He mentally berated himself as he hung up the phone after John's heads-up call, standing from behind his desk and moving to greet Anatoly as he stepped into his home office for a surprise visit that really shouldn't have been that surprising.

Anatoly always did have a knack for showing up in the damnedest places and times.

"Oliver! My second favorite American!" The burly Russian pulled him into an enthusiastic hug, thumping him twice between the shoulder blades before pulling back to exchange the customary kisses on each cheek.

"Anatoly." The fair-haired captain returned the embrace warmly albeit a bit warily himself. "We weren't expecting you." He worked to keep his tone light, not wanting to offend his greatest ally in Russia, and truthfully knowing exactly what had prompted this visit.

The older man drew away and followed Oliver to the couches, sitting down in one while Oliver went over to the liquor sideboard, passing up the decanter of whiskey—his habitual drink with John—for the one filled with vodka and pouring out a generous measure of the clear liquid into cut-glass tumblers.

"Well, since you weren't able to come to Russia last month…"

Oliver internally winced at the mild reproof lacing the words; there'd been a major, metaphorical implosion in Applied Sciences that had required both Oliver and Felicity to stay in Starling and handle it. They'd had no choice but to cancel their plans to attend the Bratva gala in Moscow with profuse apologies, and while Anatoly hadn't been thrilled, he'd understood—probably mostly because it directly affected Bratva income. But Oliver knew that eventually they'd have to pay the piper for the pardon.

Eventually appearing to mean today.

"And I still haven't gotten to meet this woman of yours," Anatoly finished shooting him a pointed look as he accepted the tumbler of vodka.

And there it was. The primary reason for the Pakhan being so insistent that Oliver and his people attend that gala last month: Oliver had a woman. A woman he'd brought into his home, his bed and his business, both of his businesses; all his actions making it very clear that Felicity wasn't just a passing fancy, that he was planning on "keeping" her. Of course the Pakhan wanted to meet the woman his favored Kapitan had all but announced as his intended. Anatoly would've preferred to meet Felicity on his own turf, hence the gala, but since that had been denied him he was going to make it happen on his own terms.

Like just showing up unannounced at his house.

Oliver took a seat at the couch across from Anatoly, raising his glass and giving their customary salute. "Prochnost."

After they each took a drink, Oliver said, "We were sorry that we had to cancel, Felicity especially since it was to be her first time out of the country. She was very anxious to be introduced to you and the others."

Felicity had been very excited at the prospect of getting to go to Moscow, planning out all the things she'd wanted to see, but when Oliver said she was "anxious" about meeting Russian members of the family he really meant she'd been "nervous as hell."

"Well, I am most eager to meet her as well, this woman who convinced my perpetually single friend to settle down." While Anatoly's tone was jovial, his eyes held a shrewd light. "Where is your lady?" he questioned, taking another sip of vodka.

Oliver let his glass dangle from his fingers, arm draped casually along the armrest and face the picture of calm. "Felicity had to stay a little later today to do some work on a joint I.T./Applied Sciences project she's in charge of." He glanced at his watch. "She should be getting home shortly."

Because if she didn't leave of her own accord, Sara would definitely step in and remind her of how late it was getting and that their resident genius not only needed to eat and sleep, but she had a boyfriend who preferred that she didn't stay up all night working herself into the ground. Also, the blond bodyguard's own girlfriend wasn't fond of her being kept away from their bed at night, and pissing off Nyssa generally wasn't good for one's health.

"Interesting that you still allow your woman to work. Will this…unconventional practice continue after you marry?" While his tone was purely conversational, cunning glinted behind his eyes.

At the inquiry of Oliver "allowing" Felicity to do anything, least of all the job she excelled at, his hand tightened around his glass for a moment before he forced it to relax. The rampant misogyny was a fact of life in the Bratva, but not one that Oliver ascribed to. He often got flack for his more progressive, more American, views—women on his security force, a female lawyer, and indulging his sister's many refusals of potential Bratva suitors. Anatoly always seemed amused by Oliver's unconventional ways and practices, watching him navigate various sticky situations among his brethren and always come out on top. But this was a different matter entirely, striking at very core practices and social strictures in the Bratva and could affect Oliver's standing, and as Anatoly's favored Kapitan it could affect his own standing and power, in a very real way.

High ranking member's wives didn't work, and for a multitude of reasons: It showed that the men were able to provide for their families well enough that another income was unnecessary. And being financially well off translated into more power and better stability, meaning that Oliver's wife working could be construed as a weakness. And with their close ties any weakness, real or perceived, on Oliver's part would be considered one for Anatoly.

Oliver would have to tread very carefully on the subject.

The young Kapitan took a measured sip before setting his vodka on the armrest with a careful carelessness. "Felicity is a certified genius, Anatoly. At any given time she is usually the smartest person in the room, and she likes working, she would be bored without her work in Applied Sciences and I.T. Forcing her to quit would not only be unwise for Queen Consolidated, as we'd be losing the person who is without a doubt one of the most valuable assets available to us, but for me personally." He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, an amused smirk curving his lips. "Because I like having sex with my girlfriend, and if I told her she couldn't keep working she would kick me out of our bed."

Anatoly threw his head back and let out a boisterous laugh, raising his glass in a salute. "Ah, yes, keeping peace in our homes and with our women is most important." Gaze turning again sharp and shrewd, he peered at him over the tumbler's rim. "And if she's so important to Queen Consolidated, she is important to its income, yes?" He watched Oliver's face carefully as he took a sip.

"Essential," he confirmed, expression grave, making sure that Anatoly could read how serious he was.

Slowly, the older man nodded, interest sparking further in his eyes. "Wouldn't want to disrupt that."

"No," Oliver agreed steadily.

Mouth quirking into a smirk, Anatoly nodded, toasting his Kapitan.

The distinct click of high heels echoed from the hall, coming closer, and both men looked up, turning towards the door as it opened.

"Sorry I'm late, Oliver! We just made this breakthrough and it was fantastic!" Felicity blew into the room, babbling excitedly and gesturing while she dug through her purse. "And we absolutely need to make sure that we either give Curtis a raise or promote him, because he is more than worth it, and we need to make sure that Lucius doesn't poach him, or Ray doesn't manipulate him into working for him, and don't get me started on Kor—" The blonde finally looked up, mouth dropping open at the sight of Anatoly and her words abruptly cutting off. "Oh… I—I didn't realize we had a guest." Her gaze shifted to her boyfriend, question clear in her blue eyes.

Anatoly and Oliver stood, the younger man already reaching for her as he moved towards her, and Felicity automatically reciprocated, twining her fingers through his.

"Felicity," Oliver wrapped his other arm around her waist; she turned her body into his, instinctively rising on her toes to kiss his cheek, all the while never looking away from the interloper, "this is Anatoly Knyazev, our Pakhan." He could feel her tense in his arms, but she kept a smile on her face as he continued the introductions. "Anatoly, Felicity Smoak, I.T. genius and my girlfriend." Oliver grinned warmly down at her, which she returned with a real, bright smile of her own, showing that she appreciated his acknowledgment of her skills and not just reducing her to the woman in his bed.

She turned back to Anatoly, who was watching them with sharp eyes, giving him a more genuine smile than she had a moment earlier and extending her hand to him. "An honor to finally meet you, Mr. Knyazev. Oliver and the others have spoken of you so often."

Anatoly had been studying the blonde with great interest, taking in the magenta dress with the cut-out above her breasts, purple heels and nails, bright pink lipstick, swaying ponytail and bright eyes behind her glasses. He accepted her hand, but brushed a kiss to her knuckles in lieu of a handshake, surprising Felicity somewhat. "Anatoly, please, and the honor is all mine, Miss Smoak. Finally meeting the woman who has so enraptured my second favorite American."

Oliver rolled his eyes at his friend's theatricality, but didn't argue.

Felicity cast her boyfriend a teasing smirk, letting him guide her to the couches. "Felicity, please," she told Anatoly with a winning smile. "And if Oliver is your second favorite American, who's your first?"

A snort escaped Oliver as he moved to pour her a glass of vodka as well, making sure it matched what he and Anatoly had, even knowing she wouldn't finish it, but wanting to make a statement about how he viewed her, as his equal, to his Pakhan.

Anatoly cast the younger man a smirk before turning back to her. "Young Thea, of course."

Felicity chuckled softly as she and the Russian settled into their respective couches. The Pakhan watched her closely, calculating everything about her before passing judgment. She stared back at him, meeting his gaze unflinchingly, performing a quiet assessment of her own.

When Oliver returned to them she smiled up at him accepting the tumbler he handed her, then once he was seated beside her reached over to cup his cheek and drew him in for a kiss. She kept it chaste enough, but didn't hold back the intensity of her feelings or the intimacy and connection between them, making sure all of this was vividly on display to their uninvited guest. Finally they broke apart, their gazes linking the instant they opened their eyes.

The blonde stroked her fingers across his cheek, smiling. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Oliver murmured back, grinning as she placed one last kiss on his lips before they both returned their attention to the Russian.

"I can see why she has captivated you so, Oliver. She is exquisite." While Anatoly was addressing Oliver, he never looked away from Felicity.

Eyes narrowing for only a brief moment, Felicity kept a smile on her face, free hand sliding into Oliver's when he tensed at the intentional provocation, and he relaxed infinitesimally, tangling their fingers together.

She took a pointedly slow sip of vodka, never looking away from Anatoly, before responding. "Oliver tells me quite frequently that I'm beautiful, but even more often he tells me how sexy he finds my intelligence. He tends to be attracted more to what he can't touch than what he can—although that's not to say he doesn't try." She turned to grin at her boyfriend, his eyes moving to hers at the same time, soft with love and amusement, but also with that heat that always seemed to burn hotter when she was wielding her brain like a weapon. "And rightfully so," the blonde locked her gaze on the dark-haired man, "he'd be ever so bored with a woman who wasn't at least as intelligent as he was. He needs a woman who not only keeps up with him but keeps him on his toes."

Anatoly raised an eyebrow. "And you believe that you are the woman to do that?"

Her chin rose at the challenge. "Whether I think I am or not isn't what's important. Oliver chose to be with me and believes I'm the right person for him." She looked over at the man in question as he lifted their joined hands to his lips, eyes locked with hers; the smile that spread across her face was brighter than the sun. "And I chose him." Adoration shone in her eyes. "And I know he is the only person for me."

Love swelled in Oliver's chest; just when he didn't think he could possibly love her more, she somehow made him fall for her even further. He ducked his head to kiss her and when he pulled back, quietly told her, "I don't just believe, Felicity. I know that you're the only one for me as well."

She beamed up at him, quickly stealing one more kiss before reluctantly focusing again on their guest.

Anatoly considered her silently for a moment longer before turning to Oliver. "I regret to inform you, my friend, that you have been demoted to my third favorite American."

-ARROW-

So, I hope that you guys liked it! :-D I had been planning this first meeting for Felicity and Anatoly pretty much from the moment that I knew I would be playing in this 'verse for a while! Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!