Chapter Text
“Yeah, Laurel, I get it.”
Oliver's back was tight and held himself with all the rigidity Digg would expect of a man who'd been viciously stabbed less then a day ago. Oliver's knuckles went white around the plastic of the phone as he pressed his fingers against the glass partition between the hallway and the stacked-to-capacity recovery room.
Patients were massed along both sides of the corridor. Nurses hustled frantically to and fro, orderlies as well. Hell, probably even Girl Scouts if they had the right kind of badges on their sashes. Diggle knew this all too well. In crisis it's all hands on deck, no matter how small those hands are.
He scrunched his massive frame further into a corner to make room for another gruesome sight on a blood stained gurney to go flying past. His eyes flicked up to see Oliver slide the phone back into his pocket, pressing both hands on the glass now. “She want's me to tell him,” he said abruptly.
Diggle shifted to echo his friends pose facing into the recovery room. “Tell him what?”
Oliver pulled in a breath, tipping his head back, and blinking vacantly at the ceiling, “That she's headed to Central. She's going to stay with her mom for a while. She wants to,” he cleared his throat, “she wants to get her head on straight first.”
“That's what she said?”
“Yeah,” Oliver's gaze locked on the prone form of his friend behind the glass, huffing out an empty laugh, “that's what she said.”
John traced Oliver's gaze to where it landed on the man in the hospital bed. One leg exposed and in traction, a cast on the left side of his upper body and arm. A ventilator in his throat, breathing in and out for him. Heart monitor, finally steady. “I'm going to head downstairs and help with the triage.” Diggle straightened and half turned. “You're not leaving this hospital without me?” It might have sounded like a question, but it wasn't.
“You think you can stop me, Mr. Diggle?” Oliver's smile was as brittle as his laugh had been.
John gave his friend an appraising once-over, “You want to test that, Mr. Queen?” Oliver opened his mouth to reply and John (instinctively) knew this conversation was about to go past the point of no return, so raised his hands in surrender. “I don't want to fight with you about this, but there are people here who need you. Ok, so not Laurel,” Oliver's jaw flexed, “but Thea, and your mother.” Oliver cut his eyes to the side guiltily, “Don't bail on your little sister, man. She's got one parent in the ground, and another in lock up. She needs somebody.”
“I don't think that somebody should be me, Digg.” Oliver said dropping his hands to his sides.
“Then who the Hell is it gonna be? That punk she's running around with?”
“No.”
“Who then? Who's left Oliver?”
“But she's-”
“A child? I know, that's why you have to help. Stay,” Diggle adjusted his coat and patted his pockets to check for his phone and his keys “be her big brother. You don't want to go down the family abandonment road.”
“It's not abandonment, she's an adult now,” a challenge flashed in Oliver's tired eyes.
“Is that what you're telling yourself?” Oliver turned from Digg, jaw tight as he kept his sight locked on his helpless friend. “This is bigger than you now, than your list.” Diggle paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You say we're your partners, Oliver. But a lot of times, it seems like we're scenery.”
“This is my burden,” Oliver whispered.
“No one man can shoulder all this alone.” Oliver grit his teeth and breathed out slowly through his nose, clearly gearing up for a argument. John decided to take a different path. “Do you want me to tell Felicity?”
Oliver's head whipped around, “Has she gotten back in contact with you?”
“No.”
“What's the death toll,” he asked, his eyes growing dark.
“It's currently just over four hundred.” Oliver's hands flexed. “But the displaced? That number's still in the thousands. She'll turn up again. Our girl's a fighter.” John turned and half opened the stairwell door, “Hell, she might be helping down in triage right now.”
“Who's in triage?” Thea emerged from under Diggle's arm, Roy in tow.
“Lots of people, that's why I'm headed down,” Diggle placed a brief, reassuring hand on the young woman's shoulder. “You know where to find me,” he sent Oliver a loaded look, “when you're ready to go, Sir.”
Thea slid in next to Oliver, “How is he?” she whispered quietly.
Oliver swallowed, “Stable, for now.”
“Where's Laurel?”
“She's recovering at her mom's place.”
Thea peered up at him, her eyes huge in her pale face, her mouth hanging open in surprise, “Has she been hurt too?”
Yes. “She just needed some space after-” Oliver tapped his fingers on the glass in front of himself, “-after all of this.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Yeah.”
“So you'll call her-” Thea sent a teary look back through the window at Tommy.
“I'll call her if he wakes up.”
“When,” she gripped him fiercely then, her little nails digging into his forearm, “when Tommy wakes up.”
Oliver nodded, “Yes, of course.” His tone as hollow as his smile had been.
Thea turned from him and clasped hands with Roy, “Come on let's go.”
“Where are you two headed?”
Thea gave her boyfriend a half smile, “We're headed back to the house.”
Oliver sent Roy a critical look, “I'm glad we've already had the 'disapproving older brother' talk.”
“Would you rather I lie to you about it? Should I take him to some seedy hotel instead, Ollie? Oh wait, I can't, they're full of newly homeless people.”
“It's our family's home Thea you-”
“I would rather go anywhere in the world but our house.” Thea said, eyes flashing with anger, “But Roy? He can't actually get home right now. There's a lot of people who can't.”
Oliver rounded on her, “Are you bringing them all to the manor? Are you going to turn our home into a refugee camp?”
“Maybe I should!” she fumed. “Aren't we the ones who made them refugees?”
Oliver deflated and pressed his forehead against the glass. “You're right,” he said something settling in him, “we need to accept our culpability in this, beyond Mom being in prison.”
Thea slipped her arm around his waist, “I know you're under a lot of stress right now, Mom, and the company. Trying to help Tommy. Let me help too, ok? Trust me with something, Ollie. Please.”
For the first time in a long time Oliver fully looked at his little sister, and although her eyes were much the same as when she was small, she was clearly a grown woman now. “How about you handle rebuilding the club? For Tommy,” he nodded towards their friend in the recovery unit, “I think he'd like to see it running when he wakes up.”
“Really?” Thea smiled. “Even though he-
“Yeah, he put a lot of effort into getting it going.” Oliver nodded, “How about you start on it next week?”
“Next week?”
Oliver nodded again, “I think, at first, we should be helping. The woman's shelter mom used to donate too? Go find them.” His jaw flexed, “Go make Dad proud.”
Thea smiled again and started down the hall, Roy at her heels, “Ollie?” she stopped, turning, “Is it alright if I dip into the charitable fund for-”
“Of course,” Oliver interrupted, “use whatever you feel is necessary. I trust your judgment in this.”
“Just in this?” her tone was teasing, playful.
Oliver slid an appraising look at Roy, “Certainly not in everything.”
Thea rolled her eyes and tugged again on Roy's hand. “Come on, let's go.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Diggle was about to slide out of the lobby and down to the triage center in the cafeteria when angry shouting caught his attention, and he was filled with an overwhelming desire to stick his nose in. Oliver must be rubbing off on me.
He doubled back to a see distraught man, clutching at the arm of a harried nurse.
“Listen, it's my sister Ok? I just need to know if she's even here.”
“I can't help you sir, a lot of casualties came in with no identification on them.”
“Listen,” he hissed, his grip tightening on her scrub's sleeve, “she's about five foot five, dark hair, she'd be in a waitress' uniform.”
The nurse struggled to ease the man's fingers off her shirt, “I'm sorry sir, but there's dozens here who fit that description.”
“But, my sister-”
“Here,” the nurse pulled a small pad out of her pocket, “what's her name? I'll keep an eye out, but that's the best I can do right now.”
“The name's Baker,” the man said his grip tightening, “first name's Jenny? Ok?”
“Hey, man,” Diggle said, easing his hand around the man's wrist, “why don't you let the nice nurse go?”
“But Jenny-” the man said releasing her arm with a shove.
“Right,” John nodded steering the man towards triage, “let's go look for her together.”
He turned to see the nurse rubbing at the lingering finger marks on her arm. She caught his eye, and mouthed “Thank you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Felicity huffed as she straightened another equipment stand. Wincing as whatever was left perched on the top shelf clattered to the floor. She scrunched up her face and took a peak behind the righted unit. Extra wireless router, well, that could have been a lot worse. She sighed, and flexed her hands, and rolled her wrists to keep them from cramping up. And it is a lot worse for a lot people, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes tight and tried to push away the memories of terror and darkness, smoke and heat.
She wiped the dampness on her palm off against blue SCU sweatpants she'd hiked up to her knees, and clomped through the space in her borrowed running shoes. She'd begun to shift debris from in front of the next unit, when the power flickered ominously.
“Great, another brown out, just what I need,” she muttered to herself and she began to trek back to the building's power box. She was picking her way through the debris next to the stairs when she heard the lock over head disengage and she froze. Her eyes growing wide in her panic.
Was that someone unlocking the door? Or was that the door unlocking itself because of a power surge? Should I go look? Maybe it's Malcolm Merlyn? Terror gripped her at that thought. Don't be ridiculous, she scolded herself. It can't be, Diggle and-
“Felicity?”
She jumped and spun, banging her shin on the pole for the salmon ladder, half hidden in the jumble. She hissed in pain, heart racing, “Oliver, you scared me half to death.”
“What are you doing down here?”
She waved her hands at the mess around them, “Straightening up.”
“Felicity, this isn't important right now.”
“No, it is,” she said nodding emphatically.
“This isn't safe. You shouldn't be down here by yourself.” He swallowed thickly, “And I'm sure there's somewhere else you should be.”
“I'm not afraid of being in here, Oliver.”
His hand clenched around the stair rail, “I'm not saying you should be afraid, I'm saying you must have someplace better to be, and you should go there.”
What do I have left? “I don't, and I'm saving these computers.”
His eyes widened, “The computers will be fine.”
She tilted her head to one side and looked forlornly at the devastation, “You can't know that.”
“Things like this,” he gestured at the half destroyed foundry, “these things don't matter.”
“These things might not matter Oliver, but what we use them for? That does.” She hated herself, just a little, for how broken he looked just then.
“They'll be fine for now.”
“No they won't, not at the rate the lair is taking on water.”
It was only then that Oliver looked around and actually noticed the dampness on the floor. “We have to get out of here, electricity and water-”
“I've unplugged everything. I'm just,” she sighed and pushed a stray hair behind her ear, “I'm just trying to get everything together, so I can get it out.”
“Why does this matter so much to you?” his voice was low and harsh.
She flicked her eyes around the dim and damp space, “What we do here Oliver? It's important, it matters.” She hoped he could hear the conviction in her voice. “And not just to me.”
His brow wrinkled then as his eyes swept over her, taking in her limp hair, shadowed eyes, ARMY p.t. shirt and baggy sweatpants. “You look terrible.”
She huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, “Well I feel terrible, so at least that's fitting.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
She shrugged a shoulder under the worn fabric of her shirt, “What day is it?”
“Why didn't you call me?”
She turned and kept moving along the wall to the giant junction box in the back. “I didn't want to bother you.”
“You'd never be bothering me, Felicity.”
She turned as the lights flickered again. Even though it was dim she could clearly read the frustration in every line of his body. “Your mom's in prison, Oliver. Your family's company, the one that sends me a paycheck? They need you, desperately. Your best friend is in a hospital. Your business has half collapsed on itself. The Glades are in a shambles, and I know you,” she reached out to him, hesitantly, before dropping her hand. “You blame yourself for all of that. I'm not going to put another rock in your pile. It's big enough already.”
She had turned again to resume her slow creep along the wall when- “I'm calling Diggle. Get everything back to the house. You'll set up in a spare room on the second floor at the house.”
“What?”
“You're right,” he said simply, shrugging slightly before jogging up the stairs, “I have a lot of rocks. And I can't do all of that and be the Hood too, what with my secret base crumbling and half underwater.” He sent her a small smile from where he was half way up the staircase, “I'll see you on Monday at QC. I'll schedule a meeting for noon.”
“Ok,” Felicity said, surprise in her voice as she shuffled back to the base of the stairs. For the first time since they met, she was simply too stunned to argue with him. “I'll see you on Monday. Wait, do you even have an office?” But he was gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Felicity shuffled self-consciously in the lobby outside Oliver's glass walled office, unsteady in unfamiliar shoes. On her third trip nervously pacing the vast marble space she nearly lost her balance all together. Must be nerves, or too much coffee. She checked her watch, 12:15, and decided maybe she'd be better off sitting.
She settled herself down for the long haul on one of the (tastefully understated) black leather and chrome sofas. She pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead and slumped, exhaustion finally washing over her, only to jerk back up a minute later when the elevator dinged. Felicity hastily straightened herself (and her clothes) when the elevator doors slid open to reveal one perfectly pressed Thea Queen.
Felicity glanced nervously at the tablet in her lap, and struggled valiantly to make herself smaller, more inconspicuous.
Thea's shoes clicked smartly across the marble almost all the way to Oliver's office, when she paused and gave Felicity a considering once-over. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Felicity nodded nervously and averted her eyes, “Yeah,” she said to her phone in her other hand, “I was at the hospital, for Walter.”
“Oh, of course,” Thea nodded and resumed her walk to her brother's office, when she stopped and turned back to Felicity shaking her head, “No, no, that's not where I know you from.”
“Maybe you've seen me around?” Thea arched an eyebrow. “Not elsewhere obviously, I meant in the office?”
“What department do you work in?”
“IT,” Felicity swallowed.
“Then that's highly doubtful. Do you ev-”
Thea's questioning was interrupted by Oliver's sudden appearance beside them. “Will you give me a minute with Ms. Smoak?” It wasn't really a question, so he didn't give her a chance to answer. Felicity jerked unsteadily to her feet and wobbled into Oliver's office. “Where are we on the move?”
“It's all in the guest room, the Green Room,” she hurried on, wary of how late it was getting, how much she still had to do, “I didn't connect anything because I wasn't sure how much time I'd have before someone came a-knocking. Not that you have strange women, or really any person, knocking at your doors, but-” she cleared her throat, “I wasn't sure what you wanted to be seen?”
Oliver sent her a small smile, the corners of his eyes beginning to crinkle, “The house is the best place for,” he inhaled and blew out a breath, “everything right now. It's not centrally located, but you can do your job from anywhere with an internet connection, right?” She nodded. “And while we wait for the foundry to get back up and running. Diggle and I will just be-,” he closed his eyes briefly, as if looking for the right word.
“Mobile extensions?” Felicity supplied, lowing her self into the visitor's chair, no longer willing to risk a broken ankle from standing.
“Exactly.”
“And prying eyes?”
“Walter's moved out. Thea is most often with her boyfriend. I've also asked her to fix up the club. So, it's good that we're out of there.”
“At the club. So she won't see any vigilante stuff during the repairs?”
He nodded, “Exactly. And because it's in the Glades that will encourage her to stay away from the house, and in the city.”
“In the city with her boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Oliver nodded once, “with Roy, her boyfriend. The only other person in the house is Raisa, the housekeeper, and I trust her to act with the utmost discretion.”
“Your housekeeper.”
“Yes, Felicity, my housekeeper. Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”
“Maybe,” she nodded slowly, “just until it all sinks in.”
“Until what sinks in?”
“We're going to be vigilante-ing-”
“That's not actually a word.”
Felicity rolled her eyes, “-from the historic, and dignified Queen Manor.”
“It's just a house.”
“No,” Felicity shook her head, “where I lived was just a house. The manor is a museum with a cable connection. And besides, how are you going to explain me, and Diggle sneaking in and out at all hours? Not- not that I'm sneaking in- sneaking in, but-”
He huffed out a laugh, “Diggle can come and go as he pleases, that won't raise any suspicions, but as for you?” he trailed off, an inquisitive eyebrow in the air.
“I solemnly swear I will only arrive under cover of full darkness,” Felicity said, glancing at where she'd clenched her hands around the tech in her lap. She exhaled slowly and relaxed herself, “and I'm pretty mobile myself.”
“The Agnes Pittsler House!” Thea shouted bursting into the office.
“What?” Oliver rose from his seat, hesitating briefly before striding around the side of his desk, placing his hand on Thea's shoulder.
“The Agnes Pittsler House,” Thea continued as Felicity tried to scrunch herself further into the leather chair, “That's where I recognize her from.”
“Felicity,” Oliver supplied.
“What,” Thea shook her head slightly, obviously jerked from her train of thought.
“'Her',” Oliver went on, “her name is Felicity.”
“Ok,” Thea blinked twice, “I recognize Felicity from the Pittsler House.” At Oliver's confused expression she went on, “The woman's shelter?”
Oliver turned his stare on Felicity then, “Have you been staying at the Pittsler House.”
“No,” Felicity said shaking her head firmly, “of course not. I have not been staying at the Pittsler House.”
“Oh,” he nodded to Thea, “so she's another volunteer.”
“No,” Felicity said again, “I am not a volunteer.”
Oliver dropped his hand from Thea's shoulder and took two steps closer to where Felicity was pressed against the back of the visitor's chair, cowering slightly, and gnawing on her lip. “What are you doing at a shelter, Felicity?”
“Well, I'm, obviously, not staying there because-” she swallowed anxiously.
“Because you're not homeless,” Oliver supplied.
“No,” she shook her head, “because it's for women with young children.”
“Felicity,” he growled out, his eyes growing dark.
She stood and stumbled slightly away from him, “I'm at Pittsler for their washing facilities, because,” She paused briefly and inhaled, “because I have no water.”
Thea tilted her head slightly to the side and narrowed her eyes. Oh God. “I don't work in the laundry,” Thea said placing herself between Felicity and her brother, “I work in housing referrals.”
“Well, it's a big place,” Felicity laughed nervously, backing towards the windows, “I'm-I'm sure you've seen me in the parking lot or-”
Thea took another step forward, “It's not that big of a place.”
“Oh, well, you know,” Felicity straightened herself, “maybe it was in one of the other departments? I've gone in for other things too.”
“Other things?” Thea asked, “Like for plumbing services? For your broken pipe?”
“Yes,” Felicity nodded, “exactly, like for plumbing services.”
“Pittsler House doesn't offer home repair services.”
“Oh?” Felicity said, breathlessly.
“I definitely would have seen you if you had come into housing referrals though. You don't have to lie to us Felicity. Do you have no water, because you have no place to stay?”
Felicity drew one calming breath, then another. But every time she opened her mouth to reply to Thea, she couldn't force the words past her suddenly leaden tongue. She closed her eyes tightly then, willing her tears not to fall. Not here not where they can see. Trying to push the memories away, she dropped her head forward and pressed one shaking hand against her mouth, when suddenly she was engulfed in warmth.
Oliver had crossed to her on silent feet. Sliding his jacket off and draping it around her trembling shoulders. “What happened, Felicity?” he asked softly. He'd stooped his massive frame so they were eye to eye.
“There was a gas line that broke,” she began, her voice wet with unshed tears, her fingers twisting in the lapels of his coat, “and the street I live on? It's all gone now. It burned to the ground.”
“I didn't know you lived in the Glades.” his voice was gruff, and low right next to her ear. His hand running soothingly up and down her arms.
“I don't,” she gulped back a fresh wave of sobbing, “but the gas main snapped at the junction point and that's on my corner.” She'd begun to tremble slightly when she was suddenly pulled fully into Oliver's comforting embrace. “Was on my corner. It's just ashes now,” she whispered into the silk of his tie, “it's all ashes.”
Felicity felt a delicate hand press in between her shoulder blades and opened her eyes to Thea's face just over Oliver's bicep. “You can stay at our house,” she told Felicity, her eyes wide and glassy with tears. “Can't she, Ollie?”
“Of course,” he choked out, “Felicity's become a good friend to me. I'd be honored.”
He pulled away from her then, and only after a heartbeat did Felicity grasp how inappropriate they must seem right now. Employer and employee, hugging and weeping. She cleared her throat and shrugged off his coat, hanging it over the back of the visitor's chair.
“I'm sorry,” Felicity whispered, her fingers flexing in the suit fabric, “I normally don't get so emotional.”
Thea slid a comforting arm around her shoulders, “It's ok, I'm sure normally your house hasn't burnt down.” She was so abrupt and sudden it startled a laugh and a genuine smile out of Felicity. “What time do you get off work?” Thea continued, linking their arms as they walked back to the glass doors together.
Felicity sent an unsure glace back to Oliver, “Um, usually between five and five thirty?”
“Perfect.” Thea sent her a sunny smile, “I'll make sure Raisa has a room for you, and a place set at dinner.”
“Thank you,” Felicity said earnestly as they click-clacked across the lobby, “I didn't know what I was going-”
“Don't even worry about it,” Thea said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Right before his office door latched shut, Oliver's hand darted through, pushing it open again, “What did you need to talk to me about, Speedy?”
“Never mind,” she shouted back, right before the elevator doors slid shut, “I'll tell you at dinner.”
~*~*~*~*~
Felicity was (obviously) aware that the Queen Manor was an estate. Everyone in Starling was.
After passing through the gates, the sweeping tree-lined drive led to a stone facade that rivaled castles. The interior had been regularly featured in home magazines. And the news used to broadcast political fundraisers hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Queen live out of their living room. But until she pulled up to it, in the full light of day and not under the cover of darkness, she didn't really understand what 'manor' entailed. This is what they mean by 'old money' I guess, she thought as she rolled past the manicured grounds and up the to sweeping front steps.
She pulled up and over to one side in front of the house. Unsure of the proper parking protocol. Someone will let me know if I should move, won't they? She switched the ignition off and unbuckled her seat belt. I wonder how much am I bringing down the property value by leaving my blood-stained car out front? she mused. She leaned down to pop her trunk lever, It can't be that much, it's Oliver's blood after all. It must be practically blue.
By the time she'd crunched down the gravel drive to her trunk, the front door had opened to reveal an older woman with dark hair in a smart gray uniform.
“I am Raisa,” she was told as the women helped her through the paneled foyer and up the stairs with her duffel bag of donated clothes, “and how do you know our Miss Thea?”
“Um,” My building burned down and, your Miss Thea apparently, has a heart of gold, “work?”
“At the company?” she asked in her lightly accented tones. They had arrived at the top of the stairs then and had turned to head along the balcony.
“I'm in IT.” Felicity supplied, uncomfortable with lying to someone Oliver trusted.
“Of course,” Raisa smiled, “that explains all the equipment in your room. You must be a,” she gestured in front of herself searching for the right word, “a telecommuter.”
“Yes,” Felicity forced a cheery smile, “that's me.”
“Then you and I will get to know each other well,” Raisa said pushing open the door to the green guest suite. “We will be the only ones in the house most days.” She smiled sweetly and ushered Felicity into the room. “You may freshen up if you wish,” she gestured to the en suite bath, “dinner is at seven.”
“Thank you,” Felicity said with a genuine smile, as the heavy door swung shut. This is way better than living in my car.
She tossed her bag into the closet and slid off her slightly-too-big shoes. Before surveying the new heart of Oliver's vigilante operation. She ran her hands along the emerald sateen coverlet, Definitely a better thread count than the old place. She raised up on tiptoe and pressed her feet down into the carpet. Yeah, I could get used to this. She sighed wistfully at the bed mounded up with pillows cased in million thread count sheets. I could definitely get used to this.
She turned slowly on her toes like a ballerina, smiling vaguely at the silk wallpaper, heavy oak furniture, and the marble fireplace. Eventually her eyes landed on the pile of computer equipment shoved into one corner that she and John had dropped off over the weekend, and she sighed. I guess I got to earn being in that bed. She shook herself sharply at the implications of earning a bed in Oliver's house, and the images that those words slipped into her brain. Thank God I didn't actually say any of that out loud.
Forty five minutes later Felicity had placed most of the salvaged equipment to rights and had all of her firewalls up and running.
It's going to be harder to scramble the signal, she thought to herself, because the house is so remote, so there's less to piggy back the data onto but I can do it. “I can do anything,” she whispered, pumping her fist in the air.
There was a short knock on the door and Felicity flicked the screens to black before standing. She was almost to the door when it pushed in revealing, “Thea?” she asked, “What are you doing up here? I'm sorry,” she shook her head, “that was rude. How can I help you?”
“You don't have to force politeness, Felicity,” the young woman said rolling her eyes, “you can tell me to get out of your room,” Thea brushed past her, bringing herself further into the space, “it's not like this is at work.” She glanced around Felicity's room taking in the computer equipment in the corner, “Or maybe it is like work?” She frowned slightly. “At any rate it's time for dinner.”
Felicity looked between her shoe-less feet and the rumpled clothes she'd been in all day and Thea's immaculate outfit for half a second before she vaguely remembered Raisa's suggestion of 'freshening up'. “Are- are we supposed to dress for dinner,” Felicity stuttered out.
“You'll be OK,” Thea reassured her, “as long as you're not in PJ's it's basically anything goes.” Felicity nodded slightly, and followed her out into the hallway. “Mom always preferred things to be a bit more formal but-” Thea swallowed. Felicity drew along side her and placed her arm tentatively around the girl's shoulders. Thea turned her head towards Felicity, her eyes swimming. “Maybe we should wear pajamas.” Thea whispered huskily, “It's not like Mom's here to mind.”
Felicity smiled slightly, “Maybe if they're fancy designer Pjs no one would notice? Don't people just look at the logos on things anyway?” Thea made a tentative smile as Felicity linked their arms together and started down the stairs. “Maybe we can make PJ-chic a thing?” She tilted her head towards her new friend, a grin on her face.
Thea matched Felicity's smile with her own. It was small, but it seemed genuine, “Well, if they can turn Hippie-Boho into a thing, who knows what's possible?”
They settled into the vast and echo-y dining room sitting across a wide walnut expense from each other. Only after the fish course was served (seriously), did Felicity realize there was another place setting at the head of the table. Thea must have noticed her staring (she wasn't exactly being subtle about it) because she cleared her throat and said, “Ollie's,” at Felicity's confused expression she nodded at the chair at the head of the table. “That's for Ollie,” Thea turned her eyes deliberately back to her plate, “if he ever comes home.”
Felicity sent her a sympathetic smile, “It must get really lonely here, with Oliver gone so much.”
“I spend most of my time with my boyfriend, Roy,” she smiled slightly. “But he's, you know,” she gestured helplessly with her knife. “He lives in the Glades,” she said more firmly.
“Is he allowed back in his home?”
Thea shook her head, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of mashed potatoes, “Not yet,” she said after swallowing, “they want to do a structural integrity check on his place first.”
Felicity forked a bite of green beans, “So where's he staying in the mean time?”
Thea rolled her eyes, “He's staying in his house anyway.”
“I know a lot of guys just like that.”
“What?” Thea asked, then helpfully supplied, “Stupid?”
“Stupid,” Felicity nodded in agreement, “and utterly convinced of their own invincibility.”
“There must be an age range for that.”
“Totally,” Felicity nodded, seriously, “it starts at like,” she waggled her head indecisively, “probably around fifteen? And it ends...,” she pursed her lips together, considering.
“Death,” Thea said flatly, as Felicity bit into her green beans, “the stupidity spans between fifteen and death.”
Felicity choked out a laugh around her mouthful of food. She looked up to see Thea smiling, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Yeah,” she finally said after swallowing, “ain't that the truth?”
“Ain't what the truth?” Oliver asked as he breezed into the dining room loosening his tie, his jacket already discarded.
“The emotional and rational decision making development rates in men versus women,” Thea supplied, her grin barely in check.
“Right,” Oliver said nodding, pressing a kiss onto the top of his sister's head, “of course.”
“Did you take any Psychology classes at University, Oliver?” Felicity asked, hoping to distract herself from thinking about Oliver With An Unbuttoned Dress Shirt Collar.
“No,” he said not looking up from his plate.
“Ollie took a lot of art classes,” Thea said, smiling knowingly.
“Really?” Felicity enthused, “I never took any art, there wasn't really any time, I was cramming my Bachelors and my Masters into five years.”
“Ollie was quite the artist,” Thea continued, “he took a lot of studio drawing courses.”
“What? Like, still life?”
“Yes,” Oliver shot Thea a warning look from the head of the table.
“Yes,” Thea repeated, “still life. With naked people.”
“Really?” Felicity couldn't help the way her voice raised on the second syllable.
Oliver set his cutlery down and rolled his eyes, “I happen to like a lot of classical forms.”
“Totally,” Thea said nodding, eyes wide in mock innocence, “two specific classical forms.” She cupped her hands in front of her blouse as though she were holding oranges.
Felicity didn't think she could control her giggle-snort, so she didn't really try.
Oliver leaned back in his chair giving Thea what Felicity assumed was his best 'Disapproving Older Brother' look. “Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me, Speedy?”
“Of course,” Thea said settling herself some, “the hospital called, they're releasing Tommy tomorrow. He's coming home.”
“He just woke up on Tuesday, Thea,” Oliver said leaning forward in his seat, “that seems awfully soon to-”
“They need the bed,” Thea interrupted him, “we're supposed to call 9-1-1 if something happens, there's a list of instructions we have to follow, and a time table for his medicine, plus a bunch of follow up appointments.”
“We?”
Thea nodded happily, “He's coming home here. He needs to be around people, and there's no one at his house now, you know? Because of his dad...”
“Right,” Oliver said nodding sharply, his back tight, “of course. When should we expect him?”
Why does he seem so angry? Felicity wondered.
“Tomorrow afternoon. He'll be arriving by private ambulance.” Thea stood and wrapped her arms around her brother's massive shoulders. “It'll be just like old times, Ollie.” The smile on her face was genuine, so were the happy tears in her eyes.
“Yeah,” Oliver replied, his voice low and his face carefully blank. “Just like old times.”