Chapter Six: The Girl Is Mine

Finding out your absent father is an international criminal isn't very conductive to sleep, or so it turns out. Couple that with nasty bruises and a hole in your shoulder, and sleep becomes elusive indeed. But Felicity's got work to do, no matter how banged up she still is. Two days of mandatory bedrest, with Oliver calling every half hour to check up on her, unexpected visits from Dig and even Tommy, it's all pretty much enough for her. She's not an invalid, and the hovering and worrying is one thing, but the three men also shoot her all these strange looks.

It started with Oliver the second morning after her 'fall down the stairs'. For the most part, he'd been sweet and concerned, bringing her icepacks and painkillers. But there had been these looks, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. It was slightly enervating, to say the least.

And the times Dig came over, they'd had a good time, munching on pizza or going over the security specs, but he'd also ask strange questions.

"All I see you eat is pizza, Chinese food and Tapas, how in the hell do you keep that up while still looking like that?!" He'd asked her after she ate more than half of a large Chicago-style deep-dish cheesy crust pizza. She could hardly say it was because she spent most of her nights either training or fighting with scum on the street.

"Yoga. Lots and lots of yoga."

He'd looked at her suspiciously for a moment but decided not to comment on it further. He'd also tried to get her to open up about her life before Starling City, the time she'd spent at MIT and the short period after that.

Felicity doesn't really like to talk about that time. Even though she knows what happened wasn't her fault, she's still ashamed of it. Still feels like she should have known better, given her high IQ. But it's true what they say, love blinds and Felicity had spent several years without seeing the truth. It's not that she thinks Dig or even Oliver would treat her differently, or blame her for what happened, they're not that kind of people, but she's scared they'll look at her with pity. Become a victim in their eyes. And Felicity has worked very hard over the past 5 years to not be a victim anymore. To be strong and in control.

She shakes off the thoughts and decides on a nice top with sleeves and a dark blue pair of skinny jeans. It's the first time in days she's actually gotten dressed and she feels more like herself again. Pajama days are fun, but as the French say, trop est trop.

She opens the front door just as Tommy's hand is raised to knock. She startles but catches herself quickly, trying to hide a smile. She likes Tommy. He's so… uncomplicated and free-spirited. It's totally at odds with both Oliver and herself, and she can't help but admire the quality. She'd give an arm and a leg to go back in time and make herself have a normal college experience, and she suspects Oliver would also rather not go through 5 years ofbasically hell on some deserted Chinese island.

"Whatcha doin' here, Flirty Mcflirtsome?" she asks him, and the shit-eating grin he's sporting only grows wider. Every other word that comes out of Tommy Merlyn's mouth is either filthy or flirty, and he seems to revel in the fact that she doesn't shy away from it. If anything, she gives as good as she gets. Over the past weeks since she met him, she feels lighter somehow. Like he, with the jokes and the innuendos, keeps some of the darkness away. Giving Oliver's penchant of keeping Tommy close, she suspects he's got the same influence on him.

"Just checking up on the world's most beautiful blonde moocher, of course. Where do you think you are going, all wrapped up like a present like that?" His eyes roam over her form appreciatively and if she thought it was real, she might have become uncomfortable and shy under his scrutiny.

As it stands, he's very devoted to a certain brunette ADA, who's as smart as she's gorgeous, so Felicity knows the looks are all play. In fact, if she alikes Oliver to a junglecat, like a panther or something, she'd probably compare Tommy to a Retriever. Happy-go-lucky, playful, protective and loyal to a fault.

She tries to contain another smile, but fails, and his grows -impossibly- even wider at that. "I'm getting out of here is what I am. If I have to look at these walls for one more second, I'm going to go absolutely insane." Tommy nods at her. "I know just what you mean, which is why I came to spring you. Let's go do something fun."

He takes her by her hand, the right one, and pulls her out of the doorframe and into the elevator. "So, I was thinking, we'd go do some shopping, maybe have lunch at Big Belly and go back to shopping after that. A salon will take care of," he motions to her face, "that and you'll be the belle of the ball tonight."

Felicity stops. "The what of the what now? Shopping? Tommy, what are you talking about?"

He pauses the pulling on her arm to look at her confused face. Turns his head this way and that, before he speaks. "You don't know, do you?" Felicity shakes her head. "Know what? What's going on?"

Tommy sighs deeply, "Today is Oliver's 30th birthday."

"Shut up. He would've… I mean I researched… but… that's supposed to be in May. The sixteenth." Tommy nods solemnly and Felicity gasps. "You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding. Tell me I wasn't incredibly rude of not remembering his birthday this morning."

He pulls up his shoulders and starts pulling her forward again. "Don't sweat it. Oliver usually isn't much of a birthday-guy, so I doubt he himself even remembers that it's his birthday, let alone his 30th. But I decided he's been working so hard lately, and he deserves a night off. One that's all about him. So, I invited a shit-ton of people, most of them he doesn't really know, but I figure if I can make sure the people he really loves are there he won't mind."

"So, I'm one of the shit-ton then?"

He looks at her like she's grown a second head over the past few minutes. "You really think Oliver's the kind of guy who would invite one of the "shit-ton" to stay at his house? Without giving himself anxiety and cage-fever? You, my beautiful but slightly clueless angel, are one of the loved ones. Even if both of your feet are firmly planted in denial."

Felicity looks at him, trying for confidence, "I'm not… I mean, he's… And I'm… but no. Nope. Not happening." Her words might have made more impact on Tommy if they'd been strung in a coherent sentence and she wasn't blushing like a tomato, but then again, she found him to be quite stubborn and she doubts even the most confident of people would be able to change his mind.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that, hot stuff. Maybe one of these days, you'll even be able to fool yourself." He moves towards a black town-car and helps her get in. "But you're going to need to work on your poker-face if you want anybody to believe you."

"Nope, not this one. Not this one either. Definitely not. Wrong color. Wrong cut." Felicity's getting kind of impatient, standing beside Tommy while he shoots down any and every option available in yet another store. They'd been by 4 already, Tommy looking for something specific for her to wear, but not finding it. To be honest, she'd feeling a little weird about the whole thing. She's always pretty confident about her clothing and usually doesn't allow anybody to dress her, but Tommy was adamant.

"Tommy, can you please tell me what you're looking for? And why I can't pick out my own damn dress?"

He turns towards her and pushes her down on the ottoman in the center of the store. "Sit down, you're hovering and that makes me nervous."

"Well, you picking out a dress for me makes me nervous."

He gasps. "Do you doubt my impeccable taste in clothing?"

"For you, I don't. But you don't fool me, Tommy Merlyn. I've seen the types of girls you hung around with before Laurel. And I'm telling you this now, if there's more skin than fabric, it's not a dress, it's underwear."

"I would be offended, but you've got a point. However, since I'm now both older, wiser," Felicity snorts at that, and he gives her a fake-sharp look, "and in fact in a very stable and loving relationship, my tastes have changed. But more importantly, Oliver's have."

She raises her eyebrows at that statement. "What does Olivier have to do with dress shopping?"

"Well, I'm throwing him the party, yes. But that's not really his present."

"Go on." She crosses her arms in front of her chest and starts tapping her foot.

"Here's the thing. I can see you like him. In a very non-platonic way. And I've known Oliver for most of my life, I know when he likes somebody. I can't make you both get your heads out of your respective asses, but what I can do is nudge it along a little. Which is why my present to Oliver is," he stops flicking through the dresses on the rack besides him and pulls one out, "this dress. Or rather, you in this dress."

Felicity looks at the garment Tommy picked out and even though she still hates the fact that she didn't get to pick it herself, it's still very much like something she would wear. She also knows she should take offence in being a gift, being objectified like that, but Tommy doesn't mean it in that way, she knows. He's trying, in his own convoluted way, to make them fall in love. He doesn't need to know that it's already too late for her, she's already pretty smitten with her boss/roommate. Felicity also knows it's no use. The scars on her heart still aren't healed and taking the risk of hurting like that again… she just can't. She's content just being around Oliver and silently being in love. It's enough, it has to be.

But Tommy is trying very hard, and Felicity can't hurt him as well. So, she takes the dress and moves into the changing room.

"I think you're wrong, about Oliver liking me, but I'll try the dress on anyway. Because I like nice things, and I'm not above making you pay for it."

"But no peeking!" she jokes at him.

The dress fits her perfectly. The tight bodice covering her skin like it's poured on her, and the asymmetrical skirt flaring out from her waist. The shoulders are slightly hanging off, and she's going to have to tape them in place so her wound doesn't show. It's the color though, that makes it perfect. Deep emerald green that perfectly offsets her blonde hair and fair skin.

She's staring at herself in the mirror, thinking that the color is striking like Oliver's hood, when Tommy's voice from behind the curtain makes her mind flash back to two nights ago.

"Oracle, there's about 25 heat signatures grouped together to your right, one floor down. I bet that's where the girls are being held." She gasps as she remembers the voice, the same one now worriedly calling her name.

"Felicity? Felicity, are you okay in there? What's wrong?"

She can't seem to find any words to answer him, to stunned by the revelation that Tommy, light and bubbly and playfully superficial Tommy is working with the Green Arrow.

"Alright, I'm coming in because you are scaring the shit out of me."

He pulls open the curtain and finds her, all wide eyed and shocked, standing in front of the full-sized mirror. "Felicity? Are you alright? You seem…" His eyes move over her form, to check for anything out of the ordinary and land on her shoulder. "Oh, we're going to have to tape that shoulder strap down, or your bullet wound will show." He says distractedly, while still scanning every part of her and the room for the thing that alarmed her.

When both of them realize what he's said, his eyes grow as wide as hers. "I mean… that little hole in your shoulder that could definitely come from a tumble down some stairs." He amends weakly, but it's too late.

"You know!" she hisses at him, pulling the curtain closed behind him to gain some semblance of privacy. "How? Does he know?"

"I… I mean… wait a minute. You know? How?! And, wait what?" His confusion is clear on his face, and they're just staring at each other bewildered. Tommy shakes his head and snaps out of it. "This really isn't the place to talk about this." He points his finger towards the flimsy curtain between them and the rest of the store. "Change and I'll go pay, we'll go somewhere to talk."

The car ride to Big Belly is awkward and silent, both of them lost in their own minds, and before they know it they're at the restaurant.

She heads inside towards a table and he follows, greeting the waitress behind the counter as he passes her. "The usual?" she calls after him. "Yeah, but make it two." Comes his reply.

The moment he sits down, Felicity pounces. "Okay, spill!" Tommy glances around the diner, but it's so busy that nobody can hear anything more than the din of conversation. Still, he bends closer towards her over the table and she does the same.

"I know because I recognized your voice. My computers run a voice descrambler in the background because I really hate to listen to his voice-modifier. That thing gives me the absolute creeps. It picked up on yours as well and I almost fell out of my chair when I realized it was you." He stops for a second. "I really didn't see that in you, to be honest. With the tech-talk and the glasses and everything."

Felicity tries not to take offence to that, because that's what she's usually going for, but still, it's not very nice to hear you're being underestimated because you speak geek.

"Does he know? She asks him, but before Tommy can reply, a new familiar voice butts into their conversation.

"Does who know what?" The voice booms and Felicity looks up to see the vain in Oliver's neck throbbing, like it does when he's trying to contain his anger.

"This looks cozy. I wonder what Laurel will say about this when she reads it in the gossip column. 'Merlyn heir up to his old tricks, spotted getting really up-close and personal with anonymous beautiful blonde.'

The sneer is so unlike Oliver, it takes Felicity aback for a second. When she looks up, she sees the hurt in Oliver's eyes for a flash, before he turns around and stalks out of the diner. Tommy looks at her apologetically.

"Go. Calm him down before he does something stupid."

Tommy nods and moves out of his seat. Then he stops and turns towards her. "I don't know if he knows. I haven't told him."

Felicity nods and he moves away, out of the restaurant and after Oliver. She can see them standing in the parking lot, arguing. Felicity knows Oliver and Laurel used to be a thing, before his unfortunate boating accident, and she knows they're good friends still. So, it's only logical he was very upset with the sight he saw. If she'd walked in and saw two people sitting so close together talking, she might get the wrong idea as well. He wants to protect Laurel from being heartbroken again. Felicity understands and she hopes Tommy gets Oliver to calm the hell down.

She gasps when she sees Oliver take a swing at Tommy, which the other man sidesteps easily. Felicity can only assume Oliver didn't really put that much effort in his punch, for Tommy to be able to dodge it like that. She sees when Tommy's words finally have an impact on Oliver. He deflates a little, his shoulders dropping and his fists unclenching. Oliver says a few words and Tommy points towards the restaurant, probably inviting him in. Oliver declines, gives Tommy one of those manly handshake, backslap hugs and walks towards his car.

When Tommy finally walks back into the restaurant, she's almost finished his burger as well.

He raises his eyebrows at her, "You still believe I'm wrong about him liking you?"

"I really don't think I should be here." She whispers to Dig. He's dressed as casual as she's ever seen him, in jeans and a nice shirt, but he can't hide his bodyguard ways. His eyes periodically roam across the room and even though he seems to be at ease, she can sense the tenseness in his shoulders, like a coiled spring.

They're standing on the balcony, looking down at the dancefloor, in their own bubble. Surrounded by Oliver's loved ones, his sister and her boyfriend chatting with Tommy and Laurel, his mother and Walter Steele, daintily nipping a martini and desperately wishing Oliver would arrive soon so they could give him their well wishes and leave.

The rest of the masses, down on the dancefloor, just being here because it promises to be the party of the year. Or because they all want Oliver's attention. It's not really Felicity's scene, and apparently not Dig's either. But they do it, because it's Oliver's birthday.

"You should be here. Among the people who really know Oliver, who like him for him, not for his money. That will mean more to Oliver than the party itself."

Dig excuses himself to go to the bar and Felicity looks at the floor again. She's feeling self-conscious about the dress, even though she loves it, but it stands out in a way she didn't expect. While all other young women around her, including Oliver's sister, are vying for the title of least dressed while still somewhat appropriate, with low cleavage, short hems and splits up to their hips; she's modest in comparison. Which suits her fine, just makes her a little bit like the odd duck out.

The gift she got him makes her even more unsure about the whole thing. Because what do you give the guy who can easily buy his own middle-large island, if he'd be inclined? She can't afford the kinds of shiny stuff his family probably got him. The only thing she could offer him is the stuff that comes out of her brain and her hart. Which is why her gift for him was the first ever finished Smoakwatch, a watch she first designed and built with her own nightly activities in mind.

There's a sudden flurry at the front door as the man of the hour enters and pretends to be surprised. Every female apart from those with the last name Queen, flock towards him and he's got to struggle to keep the polite but aloof smile in place as he makes his way through the masses towards the VIP section.

"Tommy," he hollers when he reaches them finally, "you shouldn't have." To everybody around them, it would seem like he was being modest, but Felicity can clearly hear the 'really' he's radiating with his intense stare.

Tommy, for his part, pretends he doesn't seen it and claps his best friend on the shoulder. "For you, nothing but the best. Happy birthday buddy!" The rest of the VIP section echo's Tommy's sentiment and each in turn moves towards Oliver for birthday greetings and presents.

As she suspected, both his mother and his sister hand him ridiculously expensive gifts he's probably got little use for, like a Mont Blanc pen set.

It takes the better part of an hour before Oliver finally reaches Felicity. He's taken aback a little by her dress, his eyes roaming over her with a strangely flattering intensity.

"Felicity." It's all he says, but the way he says it makes her weak in the knees. It also weakens her resolve not to act on her feelings towards him. Because when he talks to her like that, looks at her like that, she forgets the hurt she's been trough in the past, and having him near her slowly heals the gaping holes in her heart.

"Happy birthday Oliver." She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and hands him the gifts she's held close all that time.

He opens the watchbox, "Is this…." He asks and she just nods. The sleek watch looks more like an old-fashioned analogue one, not at all like the high-tech kinds. But the features on it are far from old school and he touches it with a reverence she's not used to from him.

He turns it over and reads the inscription. "He who is brave is free." He down at her. "It's beautiful Felicity." He stares at her for a moment, and at that point, a slow song starts to play. "Dance with me?" he asks, and all she can do is nod.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon. I shouldn't have jumped to the wrong conclusions. I know you and Tommy better than that." He says when they're dancing. His left hand is low on her back and his right carefully cradles her left at his chest, in order not to jostle her wounds to much.

She looks up at him, sees the apology clearly in his eyes and smiles.

"It's okay, Oliver. You're protective of your friends, I get that. I admire that in you."

He shifts her a little closer. "Thank you. For being here. For the gift. For being my friend despite the way I treated you in the beginning."

"It's…"

She gets interrupted by a beep from his phone. He shoots her another apologetic look and checks the notification.

"Shit!" he curses, and his demeanor changes instantly from at ease to high-alert.

"What's wrong?"

"Somebody's breaking into the loft."