19707/The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year - And Their Lives

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year - And Their Lives
Date of Scene:	19 December 2024
Location:	Queen Mansion
Synopsis:	Oliver has a very important question to ask Felicity in advance of the annual Queen Consolidated holiday party. The answer to which will have a major impact on their lives.
Cast of Characters:	Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak

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Oliver Queen has posed:
The Queen Mansion is a hive of activity already.

In a few hours the place will be crowded with friends and employees of Queen Consolidated, gathering for the annual holiday celebration put on by the company's very own CEO, Oliver Queen. Anticipation might be a little greater this year then in most years, given that last year's party was cancelled due to Oliver and Felicity having recently relocated to New York City.

So while the guest might not have arrived yet, that doesn't mean that there isn't plenty to do.

Most of that is being overseeing by Edmund fortunately. While Felicity and him might have an... interesting relationship, there is no doubt that the man is good at what he does, and Oliver at least certainly doesn't mind leaving him to coordinate the last minute set up going on and to oversee the caterers as they turn the kitchen into an absolute hub of activity.

No doubt Thea is out there as well, lending her own touch, and even Diggle has been drafted to take care of a few things. Those small, insignificant tasks like picking up Felicity's mother Donna from the airport and getting her back here in time for the party - and without driving her daughter right up the wall ahead of time.

The house looks absolutely amazing, all of their hard work - primarily Felicity's hard work - getting the place decorated has certainly paid off. It might not be quite as perfectly manicured as it would have been on Moria's watch, but there is a warmer, homey feel to it all. This is their first party, overseen as a couple. It's only right that they add their own touch to things.

There are still a few hours until the first of the guest start to show up and while there might be little things to do before then - like greet Felicity's mother when she arrives - aside from getting dressed, they are in the enviable task of not actually having that much to take care of. They will be busy enough later in the evening, playing host and hostess, circulating and mingling and making sure everyone is enjoying themselves. Steeling themselves for the inevitable small surprises that always present themselves at events like this.

But for now it's quiet. For now they are in the calm before the storm. Which is why Oliver asked his lady love if she could join him in the family room, set off in the far corner of the east wing.

If the rest of the mansion has a warmer, more casual holiday feel to it, this room takes it even further. Not for the public consumption of the guests, this is where they will be celebrating the holidays, gathering together with Thea and Diggle. Exchanging gifts. Enjoying one another's company. A tree stands in one corner, a mis-mash of varied decorations hung with no particular theme, no particular rhyme or reason while stockings dangle from the fireplace mantle, a fire burning within, dispelling the nip in the air beyond the windows that look out over the sprawling grounds. No snow of course, it's unlikely there will be, but it is still beginning to feel like that time of year.

Even a menorah rests on the mantle, candles already in place as Felicity brings her own traditions to mingle with his own.

Oliver hasn't been home for long. He hasn't even changed from the office yet, though he has doffed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of one of the chairs, that tie dangling along with it as the collar of his shirt has been unfastened. He stands by one of those same windows, peering out into the slowly gathering dimness of twilight, the hour still so early, as Christmas carols play quietly in the background, just barely audible.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Oliver may have just gotten home, but Felicity has been back for a few hours.

Earlier in the day, she took some time to stop by his office with a cup of coffee to try to brighten his mood, to remind him that even though the holidays can be busy and stressful -- even though he was stuck at the office -- he's always on her mind. And that they were going into this as they do all things... together.

He does things like that for her all the time. Some late nights, when he shows up with a cup of coffee for her, it's exactly the thing she needs to push through the next big hurtle, the next challenge or puzzle. Or maybe it has nothing to do with the coffee. Maybe it's just him -- his steadying, grounding, reassuring presence that does more for her than a cup of coffee could ever hope to accomplish.

Either way, she's dressed for the party, now.

She and Thea had spent days going over exactly what Felicity was going to wear. They went over options from bodycon to pretty princess to glimmering ballgown and everything in-between.

Red, green, white, silver...

Red, green, white, _and_ silver all in one dress...

Tulle, lace, felt, fringe, sleeves, sleeveless, short, long, festive...

There were so many and none that seemed quite right that at more than one point, Felicity was ready to decide she was just going to stay in the Arrowcave and let Oliver do the hosting alone this year. He's the Green Arrow. He can handle a few party guests, right?

Of course, it's not really about what Oliver Queen can and can't handle. It's about their life together. It's about facing new challenges together and being by his side.

Even if those challenges come in the form of mountains of designer dresses.

In the end, it was a text from her mother (who was getting updates along the way) that gave Thea the inspiration for the 'perfect' dress.

Felicity's never been particularly stealthy -- not that it's one of her regular job requirements, either during the day or at night. The distant clicking of her heels grows closer, and then there's the soft, well-oiled 'whoosh' of the family room door sliding open.

The warmth in the room -- not just the literal temperature, the entirety of the surroundings -- is like something out of a postcard. From the cozy couch to the big tree that isn't decorated so 'perfectly' as the others in the house, to the roaring fireplace and stockings and even her new menorah -- the one with real candles instead of the battery-operated one she used so she didn't burn down her apartment.

All on its own, it's almost perfect. But then her eyes fall on the man by the window, coatless, collar unbuttoned, and suddenly the whole scene is simply...

...breathtaking.

So often, she switches to contacts for these sorts of formal affairs, but not tonight. Tonight, she has her glasses perched on her nose, her hair pulled up into a delicate chignon with a glittering snowflake clasp. But it's the dress that's just so very feminine, so very... her.

Silvery blue satin fabric provides the backdrop for the accents that glitter like diamonds or... falling snow... from her shoulders, across the bodice, and pooling around the bottom hem that swishes just below her knees. Long enough to be elegant, short enough to expose the sparkling silver heels.

It's not a Christmas dress. It's not a Hanukkah dress. It's a winter dress... and a Felicity dress. It borrows from the fashion that she wears every day with a nod both to the season and her 'new' surroundings -- just a dash of Queen wealth and class (thank you Thea).

Small, tasteful, diamond-crusted sapphires glitter in her ears and a solitaire pendant hanging around her neck. Nothing garish. No borrowing from the family jewels, this time, to trying to live up to an expectation by covering herself in glittering strands.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
For once, she actually looks like she might be going into a social event comfortable in her own skin, comfortable in her place in Oliver's life, and without the fear of what anyone else might think about her or her presence at Oliver's side. It's taken her a while to get used to being publicly recognized as Oliver Queen's girlfriend -- not because of his old reputation as 'Ollie,' but because she knows what amazing things he's really capable of.

"If you're trying to convince me to blow off the party and hide in here with you for the rest of the night, I should warn you that it won't take a lot of convincing," her voice breaks the silence that was filled only by the crackle and pop of the burning wood in the fireplace and the soft Christmas carols in the background.

She slides the door closed behind her as she steps farther in, moving across the room towards him as if she were drawn by some invisible force -- magnetism, gravity... love.

She smiles, her lips not their usually bright pop of color, but something more muted and appropriate to the event and the dress. A soft red, almost pink.

Oliver Queen has posed:
There do tend to be so many traditions that are wrapped directly up into this time of year. Things that are just kind of expected.

Some of that comes from being an 'old' family, a prominent family in the community. The Queen presence in Starling City is well established long since. Both his father and mother were staples of the community. Of course, as he has grown older Oliver certainly came to better understand what sort of man his father was - and to a less extent his mother as well. Far from perfect to be sure.

Not that he always had a great deal of use for these sorts of traditions even when he was growing up, even when he still held his parents in unimpeacable esteem. But that, for the most part, had more to do with who he was then who they were. He had little interest in their perfectly manicured Christmases. He was much more interested in getting into trouble with his friends, or his latest conquest.

Times have changed considerably. His time on Lian Yu started that to be sure, but all these years back have continued it. Meeting Felicity, letting her slowly worm her way into his thoughts, into his affections until she became the ceter of his world has only furthered that even more.

He still might not be terribly interested in his parents carefully curated 'perfect' holiday ideal. But it is no longer the reckless disregard of youth, it is not contempt or rebellion. It is a desire to forge new traditions. Ones that work for him and Felicity and the life he fully intends that they should forge together.

It hasn't been very long since he saw her of course, what with her visit to the office only hours old. It was a small thing, stopping by to bring him coffee - with all the subtle little means inherent in that gesture given their past - but it was definitely the highlight of his day. A reminder of slightly more innocent times, when he was just establishing the Arrow as a presence in Starling and she became one of the first people that he could rely on. That he could let into his new and sometimes dangerous world.

Not better times. Far from really. He misses her sometimes, when he is in the office. Proud though he might be of what she is forging on her own, he still misses having her nearby, of hearing the click of those heels she favors before coming through the door, always giving away her approahc.

But he wouldn't trade how things and how they used to be for how they are now. Not for even a second. Felicity at his assistant's desk was a luxury. Felicity in his life, in his home, in his bed is so much more then that.

It is his everything.

Still, he's not sorry that he is officially done with the office for the year. He's not sorry that he gets to spend the full spread of the holidays with her, with Thea and Diggle and even with Donna. Last year's quiet time in New York was nice to be sure. Different.

But this is wonderful in a different way.

And he has every intention of making it more so. The season might be magical on its own. But he can think of one thing that he can do to make it that much better. One thing he can do to make it unforgettable.

Again, it is the click of those heels that gives away her approach long before she slips into the comfy room and while he does not turn around, not until she addresses him at least, a smile blooms on Oliver's face. His hands remain tucked away in his pockets and he turns slowly, at last, that curve of his lips still very much in evidence.

At least until his eyes finally land on her.

He knew that she and Thea were going to more then a little trouble to try and find the perfect outfit for the evening. These sorts of events aren't always the most comfortable for her, and while she might no longer have to wrry about murmured whispers regarding her being his assistant, dating the boss, it's still a different world that she has been forced to adapt to.

Oliver Queen has posed:
And judging by the expression on Oliver's face, all the effort and pouring through options has definitely paid off.

"You look... amazing," he breathes quietly before shaking his head. "You've definitely outdone yourself this time Felicity. It's just... perfect," he says, padding over to her. At the last minute his lips brush her cheek softly, one small concession to the effort she has made to get ready - no need to leave her makeup smeared no matter how tempting it might be - and when he leans back, he flashes a grin her way. "I can still touch you, right? You won't crumble like some perfect, delicate glass oranament?" he teases lowly.

Then he laughs and gives a shake of his head. "Don't you start. And don't you tempt me. I would much rather spend the evening locked in here with you in front of the fire," he asserts before his eyes glint, full of wicked mischief. "There's a thought. We can both bail on the party and leave Thea to play Lady of the Manor."

That would probably be a good way to get his ankle solidly kicked.

But it's still pretty tempting.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
She almost... forgot.

All wrapped up in the winkling lights and crackling fire and the most beautiful man she's ever laid eyes on, Felicity almost forgot how much trouble she really had gone to. Even she had to admit -- the dress is perfect. She knew it from the moment Thea showed it to her.

And instead of making her self-consciousness roil like boiling lava -- suck in your stomach, stand up straight, don't bend over too far, shoulders back, don't trip on the hem, keep your knees closed, don't walk too fast, don't take steps too large -- as soon as she slipped into it and Thea drew the zipper up her spine, it made her feel... magical -- a sparkling of fairy dust to help her through her first year _hosting_ the holiday party at Queen Mansion.

As soon as Oliver turns and his eyes find her, she stops. It's a mere two paces away, a space he could close in less than a heartbeat if he really wanted to, but it's enough room for the intensity of his appreciation to really blossom between them, heat spreading through her as her smile grows.

"You can thank Thea for this. And my mom, believe it or not."

Credit where credit is due, after all. She even takes a moment to spin once for him, to give him the full effect of the way the tiny little stones on the dress seems to sparkle when they catch the light. Not garish. It's a subtle effect, like the quiet tinkling of a music box in a large room, but it's there.

And when she's turned all the way back around, he's there, too.

It makes her breath catch, even after all this time, to be caught against him like this. The heat of his body pressed so close is hotter than the fire. Or, at least, it has much more of an effect on her. Her chin lifts as if beckoned, her eyes searching, lips parted.

What few experiences she has with relationships other than Oliver try to convince her it shouldn't be this way. She sees him every day, goes to sleep with him every night, wakes up with him, brushes her teeth with him. He shouldn't be able to make her heart race and steal the air from her lungs just by standing this close. But he does.

The kiss, so light and perfect, against her cheek makes her eyes slip closed and her head dip coyly, smiling like he'd just given her gift she didn't deserve. The question of whether or not he's allowed to touch her, however, is met with laughter, deeper and throatier than she expected, which makes her clear her throat -- a poor disguise for just how much heat he stirred inside her.

"You'd better touch me," she chides, already closing the little bit of distance that remains. Her palms find his stomach, sliding slowly, deliberately up and over his chest, following the lines of muscle she's traced hundreds of times before. Yet somehow it's never exactly the same path, always exploring. Always savoring. "If you try to shove me out there like one of the decorations, we're going to have to renegotiate terms."

Business talk. Sexy, right? It used to be tech talk, all day, every day. But Felicity's life is consumed as much with her own business as it is the intricacies of the ever-evolving landscape of cyber security. Ever since Smoak Tech started to grow, her little quips have been sprinkled with as much corporate jargon as technobabble. The woes of being an entrepreneur.

The warning not to start, that he wouldn't have any more willpower than she has, has a laugh bubbling up past her lips that leaves a large, joy-filled smile on her lips. Her forearms drape over his shoulders as she stretches up against him, the soft curves of her front meeting hard muscle as the familiar rush of affection flushes her cheeks.

"After spending as many days as we did picking out the perfect dress for tonight, I would be very surprised if she didn't kick down this door and drag me out to the party herself. And as much as I love your sister, if someone's going to be dragging me, you're much more my type."

Oliver Queen has posed:
In a few more hours the house will be filled with people, will be filled with the chatter of conversations, with people laughing, with the sound of music in the air. There won't be one corner of the mansion that it doesn't touch in all likelihood. And while they will still have little oases of calm scattered about the building where they can retreat temporarily - or even step outside for a little bit, it's still not cold enough that it is truly uncomfortable if one wants to spend a few moments in the cool night air - for the most part they won't be able to escape.

They won't have a moment to themselves.

so it's nice that they have this time, just the two of them. When Edmund is far tooo busy overseeing everyone and everything to intrude with his questions. When Thea is fussing about, making sure that everything meets with her approval - just enough of Moira in her to demand that she straightens certain negligent touches that Oliver and Felicity might find charming. With Diggle out, fetching Donna, keeping her occupied enough to give Felicity a moment to breath before her hostess duties truly take hold.

By the time this is all over they might have preferred spending it, Felicity locked in the Arrowcave with Oliver out in the streets of the Glades.But right now at least, Oliver is glad to be here with her.

That doesn't surprise me at all. You're mother might be a bit of a handful at times, but on the other hand she managed to raise you. I'd say that speaks pretty well to her sense of taste," the blonde billionaire points out with that ready smile. "Though I'll admit that she clearly had some impressive material to work with," he adds lightly, a small laugh slipping from him as his arms slide around her for a moment, drawing her in against him.

Of course he's known just how special she is for quite some time now. It's been pretty clear almost from the beginning, when she leant him her assistance without blinking, even in the face of some pretty obvious lies. When she extended him a measure of trust even when she didn't particularly have any reason to. When it became clear that in so many ways she just knows him better then he even knows himself.

"Renegotiating, hmm? That sounds like it could be interesting," Ollie admits with a slow grin sliding over his expression. "I do like the idea of getting you to the bargaining table," he admits, eyes glinting with mischief.

He knows a little something of trying to keep various parts of his life seperate and watching as, despite his best efforts, they start to bleed into one another. Sometimes he thinks it's a minor miracle that more people haven't figured out that he is the Green Arrow. Slips are inevitable of course, and really, it just makes a degree of sense.

It's a good thing he has his reputation from before he vanished for those years that keeps enough people from taking him seriously.

"Well, if my sister wants to get her hands on you she's just going to have to wait in line," he adds glibly, arm slipping around the small of her back. "I might have to share you with half of Starling City this evening, but for the next few hours at least you're all mine."

And if things go as planned? She'll be all his for the rest of their lives together.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Donna Smoak can be a handful. She is, in so many ways, very obviously related to Felicity, though in her twenties, Donna got mistaken for sister more often than mother. Felicities in her mid-thirties, now, and Donna's in her fifties. The woman has mellowed, and their relationship has gotten stronger over the years, but Donna still has a tendency to prove to the world that Felicity got her genius-level IQ from her father. She would set the world on fire for her daughter, but she's a very much a former cocktail waitress from Las Vegas.

It can still a lot, sometimes, but Felicity loves her. She doesn't often approach Donna's visits with the same level of dread as she used to. But then, a decade ago, Donna used to just... show up, unannounced and uninvited, and barge into Felicity's life like a hurricane. Using the word 'mellow' might be a stretch, but their whole dynamic has at least matured.

A lot has happened in Felicity's life. Her father left them when she was seven, she was admitted early and graduated early from MIT, she was nearly arrested by the FBI, her boyfriend was arrested instead of her and hung himself before sentencing... and she met Oliver Queen. Nothing has ever been the same since then.

Oliver trusted her -- welcomed her into his circle, his life, his heart -- and allowed her to touch the piece of him she saw inside. The good man that wanted justice for his city, but that died a little himself every time he had to take a life. The strong, confident, determined man that needed to be reminded he wasn't alone. That he wasn't still on an island, alone. It has been as much a privilege to watch him grow, learn, and become stronger through his trusted allies and his ability to love as it has been to have that love reflected back at her.

To have that same man not just accept Felicity's eccentric mother, but to praise her? It never ceased to leave her speechless, smiling, and in absolute awe. She knows her mother is a lot, but to have Olivers warmth instead of his scorn is, itself, a gift beyond what many couples have. It is who he is, though -- her home, her safety, her rock.

"Oh, no. You are not getting me 'to,' 'on,' or even near any tables until this party is over," Felicity is quick to retort, her smile wide with amusement. "This dress is not getting ruined like the last one."

Her eyebrows lift in challenge, sharp eyes glinting behind those lenses, but there's no heat to her words. Barely even any conviction. And what strength there is in them seems to falter almost at once, as soon as points out that they'll be alone for the next few hours.

A soft, mock-contemptuous sigh hisses out of her throat, shrewd gaze softening as she looks up at him, the realization that she was never going to be able to stick to her her warning about the tables hitting her like he'd turning over a straight flush at the poker table.

"Dang it," she whispers, feigning being a sore loser. "I knew I should have waited until closer to the party to get ready."

Slowly, she leans up, just a little closer, and places a soft, lipsticked kiss against his lips, a grin tugging more firmly at one corner of her mouth.

"Your negotiating tactics are never fair."

Oliver Queen has posed:
While it is certainly true that Donna Smoak can be a little bit of a handful, it is not as if Felicity is likely to be fully free of complaints when it comes to her future in-laws. It is likely that Moira Queen has the best interests of her children at heart, at least most of the time. But she's not above resorting to some fairly unscrupulous tactics to get what she wants, when she wants.

And hwile Donna at least seems to genuinely like Oliver - or at the very least would very much like to see him and her daughter's arrangement become a little more etched in stone and perhaps produce a few children to boot - Moira has been a little... cooler when it comes to Felicity. Perhaps a little condescending at times.

The fact that felicity has ventured off and started her own company, has become accomplished and recognized in her field, that she was always terribly over-qualified for her job, first in the IT department and then as Oliver's assistance doesn't seem to matter. On some level it feels like Moira is determined to treat her as the help, one that has chosen to set her sights above her station.

Oliver loves his mother. But given the choice between the two, he doesn't really have any doubts about who has the potential to do better in the in-law department.

Then again, Felicity doesn't have to deal with the ohilandering Robert QUeen while he would still kinda like to put an arrow through the knee of her father, so maybe in the long run it is a bit of a wash. Whatever else one can accuse Moira Queen of she's not a supervillain. Right? Right?

Despite all that, in some respects Oliver wishes his mother was here tonight. Not so much for the party. Chances are she would have a snide remark or two to make and they would almost certainly not be directed at him. Maybe Edmund would take them, but more likely it would be Felicity that would be the recipient, the little comments about how past gatherings have been better, or more lively, or had a certain something that her own efforts have failed to capture.

He won't miss that.

Still, he has every reason to expect that tonight will be a fairly important night. And while her approval might not factor into any of wht is to come, it would still be nice to share it with her, as well as Thea.

"Look, I don't pretend to be the very best businessman," he counters her with a grin as his gambit around the bargaining table is quickly shot down. "But I can be very, very persistent. Especially when in comes to you, Felicity," he points out slyly.

Then he gives a low laugh, his hold on her tightening for a moment, leaning in to meet her lips with a soft but lingering kiss. "What can I say. I don't like to lose. Especially when the stakes include you," he points out, head dipping, lips finding one side of her neck for a moment before he takes a half step back, smile still lingering on his face.

"Actually, tempting as it is to see if I can convince you that being a little mussed would be no bad thing, there was something I was hoping to talk to you before the party started," he admits, that easy smile still resting on his features. But there is a genuine note, a serious note hovering in those words as well.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
It's true. Felicity is not a fan of Moira Queen. But who can blame her?

Maybe not in the same way the Oliver is not a fan of Noah Kuttler, Felicity's father, but then, Felicity's not exactly his biggest fan either. It's hard for the little girl that still lives on inside her to completely give up on the idea of the father that abandoned her and her mother when she was only seven years old. She wants to believe that he'll change, that he'll decide to be a part of her life again one day, that he'll be able to explain why he was never there for them...

But a much bigger part of Felicity has seen enough of who Noah Kuttler is and what he's capable of. She watched him try to disable The Watchtower, helpless to do anything to stop it, nearly killing Oliver and other members of the JLA in the process. And if it ever came down to having to choose between the two of them? She wouldn't hesitate. Oliver is her past, her present, and her future. Noah is a stranger and apparently a dangerous sociopath, even if Felicity does get her genius level intellect from him.

But, Felicity tolerates Moira with (thinly) veiled disdain. Well... tolerat-ed. Past tense. Moira, thankfully, hasn't been around much, recently. She would never speak ill of Oliver's mother to him and certainly not to Thea, but she has vented to Diggle on multiple occasions. And while she's sure Oliver knows she has -- there's so little he misses -- she does try to keep him out of her complaints.

She knows Oliver loves his mother, but not nearly as boisterously as Thea does. And honestly, as much as she is loathe to tolerate the woman's endless critiques for Felicity's... well... everything, she would gladly bear them all for the chance for Oliver and Thea to have her here for the party.

'What can I say. I don't like to lose. Especially when the stakes include you.'

Her toes are curling in her shoes even before his lips meet her neck, and when they do? She lets out a soft gasp of pleasure that she just can't help, eyes slipping closed for that moment of closeness.

"See?" she rasps, voice pitched into a low growl. "Unfair..."

But far too soon, Oliver's leaning back, taking that half step away, and her arms are slipping away from his shoulders, leaving her standing there in front of him with her hands lightly clasped in front of her like she has for so many years. It's her kind of default posture, like she's ready to make a gesture, grab a sample, point at a screen. And when his tone slips back into that serious note, she switches gears with him. It's a benefit, perhaps, of spending so many nights easily slipping from flirting to witty banter to dealing with gunfire and explosions.

"Always. What's up? If this is about the ice sculptures, it's fine. I took care of it. I tried to cancel, but they said it was too late, so I got creative and repurposed the thermal redistribution arrays we got from S.T.A.R. Labs. I had to take down one of the server farms, but it's just for tonight, and it was only doing redundant backups. I put them in the pedestals to pull the heat away from the ice, so they'll each have their own cone of air that's just above freezing, and then... this is the best part... I hid holographic projectors up with the lights. I did a three-dimensional scan of each one of the sculptures and configured the projectors to mask any parts that started melting. So, if someone gets handsy, they'll feel the ice, but they'll look perfect all night."

Yeah, she's a little proud of that, even if it's _entirely_ cosmetic, and if she were here, she's sure Moira would find something to complain about.

Of course, despite that, it doesn't seem to be the correct guess. After this many years, she can tell when Oliver is humoring her, even if he is being patient and kind about it.

For a moment, there's just the sound of that crackling fire and the soft Christmas carols playing in the background, Felicity's lips pressing together ever so softly.

"I'm sensing you didn't want to talk about the ice sculptures..."

Oliver Queen has posed:
At the end of the day, their parents - neither the good nor the bad - define them. They are their own people and while it is unfortunate they can't all be one happy family, that it is unlikely that they will ever all be one big happy family, the days that Oliver is willing to worry about that are long in the past. He doesn't need his mother's approval or her father's approval to know that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Felicity.

And if he has anything to say about it, that's just what's going to happen.

Not that it is solely up to him. She has a little bit to say about it too of course. But he never really has to wonder where he stands with Felicity. He never really wonders how she feels about him. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She's so much more open about her feelings and helped him in turn to be a little more open about his own. At least when it comes to her.

He might never be quite as expressive as she can be, but he will never leave her wondering how he feels about her either. He loves her. Now and forever.

In the face of that, the fact that they don't much care for one another's parents - excluding Donna who, despite driving her daughter crazy is most definitely the easiest to get along with and the best adjusted... for whatever that says - doesn't really matter.

There might come a moment when he has to take his mother aside, and make it clear that he isn't interested in any of her objections to Felicty, and if she expects them to continue to have much more then a bare minimum of a relationship, she had best find a way to adjust to that reality.

The issue of her father is... thornier. He will never rain on her parade. But it's hard to see any sort of happy ending there, no matter how much she might wish it. He's been wrong before though, surprised before. And that she can still hope for a change, that the man might come to his senses is something that he loves about her and would never take away.

The accusation that he doesn't play fair only makes him smile, one corner of his mouth curling slightly, heat creeping into those deep blue eyes for just a moment. It's tempting to show her just how unfair he can be when he really wants to. But while they have a few hours of freedom before they get swamped with hosting this get-together, there is something important that he needs to get out first.

Everything else can wait.

Well, almost everything.

That Felicity should seize on his words, that she should run off in a different direction isn't a surprise. It is completely her, and he adores her for it. More, he can appreciate how she goes about solving problems. It's an example of how, despite her different approach, even Moira would - or at least should - appreciate her ingenuity and how it can come in handy at times.

So he smiles, hands still in hers, guiding her over closer to the fire, closer to the tree as those soft melodies paly in the background. "You're right. Not that I'm not duly impressed by your solution mind you," he says with a low laugh.

He should probably be mroe nervous. There was a time - for years really - that he didn't think this sort of moment would arrive. He didn't think it was in the cards for him.

But clearly he hadn't reckoned on Felicity Smoak entering his life.

"It's something more about us. And honestly, it's probably long overdue," he says quietly.

Overdue, perhaps. But he can make up for lost time now. They will have the rest of their lives together afterall.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
There was a time in their relationship when the words "it's something more about us" would have sent Felicity into a problem-solving tailspin all on their own. Forget ice sculptures -- bells and whistles would have started going off, whiteboards pulled out, formulas being written out, and damage control already starting to assess every weak point she knew about.

But a lot has changed since then.

For one, even if it was on his mind, she's not so insecure in her place in his life that she actually expects the words "I don't think this is working out" to follow. It's not that it doesn't occur to her, flashing across her eyes in the nanoseconds that pass while her eyebrows are lifting, but it doesn't linger. Not only is she pretty sure she would have picked up on it before this moment, this feels like a really, really awful time to bring something like that up. Despite coming a very long way since she first met him, Oliver Queen may never be known as the most sentimental man in the world, but he wouldn't do that to her. Not right now.

So, what is it, then?

The gears in her mind are turning, even as the automatic response to trust him, to follow him, to go wherever he puts her take over and guide her movements. Like a dance partner, there's just enough tension in her body to make her easy to guide, but not enough to resist.

"Is it about New York? Because I'm not staying here while you go back there..."

She's not... mad, but there's a certain thorniness to the words.

It hadn't even been mentioned, but there had been a nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her to expect Oliver to insist on some kind of extra precautions, ever since they were both nearly overtaken by a swarm of alien insects. They'd been literally right outside the door of The Quiver when Oliver and his team rushed back in, and Felicity had barely gotten the door closed in time to keep them out.

Oliver never liked it when Felicity came that close to getting hurt. He hadn't said anything about restricting her access to The Quiver... yet. But, she was expecting it. Obviously Or worse, telling her to run the Arrowcave from while he went back and dealt with an alien infestation there. And the answer was no. Also obviously.

She hadn't consciously noticed, if she was being... positioned.

Or, if she did notice, maybe she'd chalked it up to being 'handled' -- put in a position where she'd be less likely to argue. After all, the fireplace is _so_ warm and cozy and inviting. And though she was raised Jewish, it has been impossible not to get just a little caught up in all of the Christmas decorations and singing and warmth and happiness. Even the carols that play softly in the background had their own kind of nostalgia. She's been a steadfast figure in Oliver's life for over a decade. So much of this is familiar simply because it feels like she's been a part of the family for so long. Now she lives here, with him, and it's even more like... home.

"Oliver, this house is amazing. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in Disneyland, honestly." Her eyes dip to the side, gesturing vaguely to the tree, to the fire, to the mantle with all of the stockings and the menorah. She's surrounded by this picture-perfect moment that some people only dream of -- like the holiday season personified. Even the smell of the burning logs on the fire. "But, I'm not going to let you go back alone."

Oliver Queen has posed:
It is certainly true that Oliver does not love the idea of Felicity being put in danger. Not even in the vicinity of it.

While he would be hard pressed to argue that she isn't one of the most capable people he knows, and while he might have at least tried to give her a basic grounding in taking care of herself if the worst should happen, what is going on back in New York is definitely... beyond what he would expect her to content with.

Just dealing with the Triad alone would be dangerous enough. Certainly they have proven themselves to be a great deal more dangerous and resilient that he would have ever expected when he committed himself to making the Phoenix Towers project work. They have shown themselves to be more capable at hand to hand combat then expected, with surprisingly expansive resources, even beyond New York.

Now they are adding some osrt of bizarre alien-like creatures to the mix as well? Ones that have proven to be rather deadly. Ones that have gotten far too close to the Quiver for comfort, that have seen their way past the various high-tech security precautions they have utilized to secure their Manhattan base from casual discovery or infiltration.

No, in a perfect world Oliver would almost certainly prefer that she was put nowhere in the vague vicinity of such things, let alone right in the middle of them.

He's also learned a lesson over the years. That trying to keep Felicity away from something she's determined to see through, that trying to keep her at arm's length rarely works out. Especially for him.

For one, her determination to do what she needs to is a match for his own in so many ways. When she committed to Team Arrow it was no flippant decision. She has never given him cause to believe that she regretted making that leap of faith, of following him into this life. And she has never given him the slightest reason to believe that her committment to doing what is necessary is any less then his own.

Still, they might eventually have to have a discussion about how she can best participate. Whether she really needs to work out of the Quiver to do what she needs to do there. He's just not at all certain that it is an argument that he is going to win. Actually he's almost certain it won't be.

It, however, is not what he has in for mind right now. About the last thing he is looking to do with her right now is to fight. Not when he is hoping to kick off a new part of their shared life together. Battling over what sort of risks are acceptable for her to take is not how he wants to begin.

Was he hoping that moving her to this end of the room would be just a little distracting? Was he hoping that it might blur over some of the frustrations that came from taking on the responsibility to organize so much of this party, to take charge of decorating the mansion and insuring that all the little details were in place. Even with Edmund's help, even with his and Thea's asssistance, she was still the most involved and it could not always have been easy.

Or did he just want to make sure that he was in the right place for what comes next?

On one hand it probably doesn't matter. They could have had a casual conversation at anytime and come to this instant. Maybe while working side by side in the Arrowcave. It could have come in his office earlier, when she just stopped by to let him know that she was thinking about him. To a certain extent, everything else is stage dressing. Nice. Pretty. But distinctly secondary to the sentiment at the heart of things.

As the fire, as the decorations catch her attention, it still seems to settle things in his mind. And by the time she glances back at him, Felicity will find Oliver down on one knee, that box slipped out of his pocket, opened to show off the engagement ring inside.

"It's not the house that makes this time of year amazing. It's the fact that you're here in it with me," he says quietly.

"Felicity Smoak, will you marry me?"

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Fight is such a strong word.

A 'bicker?' Is that a noun? They do that sometimes. Not all the time, but anytime you get two strong, dedicated personalities in the same room, working on the same task, you're going to have a bicker or two or three.

In the past, fights with Oliver have ended in tears and hurt feelings. Bickers tend to be much more back-and-forth volleys of stubbornness until either one side admits defeat or neither one of them gets what they want (also known as a compromise). In the end, those tend to be the most common. For as willing and ready to bicker as Felicity is when she sets her mind to it, one thing has always held true... Oliver is in charge. She may rage and argue and... bicker, but the discussion is Oliver at the point that Oliver puts his foot down. And Felicity will, eventually, get over it.

It's obvious that, though all of her quick deductions, she expected this to be one of those times. The stage was set so perfectly for it, after all. The mood is subdued and warm, enough to lull even the fiercest of personalities into just wanting to relax and cuddle. There's just enough time for them to have their 'bicker,' for Oliver to tell her he's made up his mind, and for the steam rising from Felicity's ears to subside by the time guests start arriving.

It's also obvious that by the time Felicity looks back from gesturing around, the fact that Oliver isn't standing there anymore leaves her... speechless.

She'd been ready for the 'bicker' as soon as his mood turned serious. Not maybe as prepared as she wanted to be with a plan for how to ease his mind, but certainly ready to stand her ground. Not angry. Never angry at the fact that he wants to protect her, to keep her safe, to treat her like something he values. But she values him, too, and she'll be damned before she willingly steps aside while he strides off into who knows what.

He's not alone. He doesn't have to act like he's alone. And she will remind of him of that over and over and over again, if she has to.

It's a little ironic.

When her eyes finally slip down to where he's kneeling on the floor at her feet, and her eyes settle on that open box, it becomes instantly obvious that he's not the one who needed to be reminded.

He's not the one that needed to be reassured. He's not the one that was inventing scenarios in his head about being stranded, left behind... abandoned. He's not the one with the secret worry tucked away in the back of her mind that, one day, she'd stop being good enough -- that Oliver would leave like her father did. It wasn't even a conscious thought.

But the sight of him on one knee, holding up that ring, makes time and space collapse. Reality warps and bends, narrowing her perception until there is nothing except Oliver Queen. Every heart beat is an eternity, and they crash like thunder that echoes into infinitely.

Her lips are, open but the only sound is the waterfall of ecstatic tears that slide out from underneath the frames of her glasses and streak across the roundness of her cheeks. The tip of her nose is suddenly pink, and her eyes, so glassy and absolutely full of love and wonder, sweep from the glint of the diamond in the firelight to the face of the man she'll spend the rest of eternity fighting for. Not with.

It's the nods that comes first, a quick bobbing as she reaches up to wipe at her cheeks. Her smile spreads so impossibly wide, and though she tries to speak, the sound that comes out is choked and feeble. A laugh. An acceptance. A desperate attempt at love and gratitude.

She leans forward, unable to resist the draw of him for one moment more, stretching hands out for his cheeks as she bends to capture his lips in a hard, salty kiss that's filled even more with her love for him than the tears that linger on her lips. It lasts, and it lasts, until they might have reached the heat death of the universe. She had no idea.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
All she knew was that by the time she manages to pull herself away from his mouth, to look at him again, that she was looking at her future husband. The man she already knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And that this was the most special, important moment of her storied life.

"Yes," she manages to whisper. "I love you, Oliver."

Only then does she offer him her left hand, heat crawling up her neck and painting her cheeks bright red, all the way up to the tips of her ears.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oh, they definitely bicker from time to time. That is a pretty good way to put it.

Rarely full on fights, but that doesn't mean that they always see eye to eye on how things should be handled at times too. And while he can be stubborn, while he can be difficult at times, she is one of the rare few for whom compromise comes a little easier. One of the rare few for whom he will occasionally take a step back, look at things from her perspective and admit - perhaps grudgingly - that she has a point. That maybe she's right and he's wrong, this one time.

That's not going to change. The fact that he is down on one knee, asking for her hand in marriage won't change that. They are going to go right on bickering when they have a difference of opinion, when they see things in slightly different ways, when they perhaps think of something that other hasn't taken into account or is ignoring because of whatever blind spot.

That isn't a weakness in their relationship. They need to be able to challenge one another, they need to be able to express themselves openly, even if that means that they don't always agree. And yes, they each have their baliwick, their area of speciality where it is - and should be - harder to challenge them. Oliver isn't going to challenge her on the tech side of things for the most part, and he in turn is less likely to back down when it comes down to field work. But then Felicity is also less likely to challenge him there. She understands that sometimes split-second decision making is required and there isn't a whole lot of time to reflect and debate a decision when it really has to be made.

But when it comes to their relationship? Oh yes, they will have their discussions, they will have their moments of disagreement. And they will work through it and be stronger for it.

But at the same time, if they end up bickering over this moment, over this singular question, something most definitely has gone completely and horribly wrong.

It is always possible that he has misjudged things of course. He has no doubts that she loves him, has no doubts their their relationship is solid. He has no doubts that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him. But it is always possible that the timing isn't quite right. Between the holidays and trying to get her company off the guard. With the Triad and the strange, alien-like threat in the tunnels beneath Hell's Kitchen she might not be ready to think about this right now. But that won't provoke a fight.

But he's pretty sure that he hasn't misjudged that either. And any doubts that he might have on that particular score die a swift death at her reaction.

That he has genuinely caught her offguard is perhaps a testement to the fact that even after all this time, after working together, dating, and finally living together, they are still capable of surprising one another. That's almost reassuring in a way, and something that Ollie hopes will never change.

At least he hopes it doesn't.

He can see her struggling to find the words, words to reply and while tears might quickly streak her face, there is no sadness in her eyes, nothing in her expression that says she regrets the fact that he has asked her that question. Indeed, the light in her eyes, on her expression can't help but make his heart swell at least a little and the smile that blooms on Oliver's face is an answer to her own, even as she struggles to articular just how she's feeling, just w hat her answer is.

Then, as if there was any doubt at all, she answers in the best way that she can, with her lips on his own, the taste of her tears doing nothing to diminish the moment, doing nothing to make him wonder at how she's really feeling. One hand slips up to rest against her cheek, his thumb stroking away some of those tears and when she finally manages to whisper her acceptance, he doesn't hesitate to slip that ring from it's box almost immediately, to slide it into place on her finger.

Oliver Queen has posed:
"I love you too Felicity. So much," he says softly, eyes fixed to her face as if memorizing every last detail.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
They still have a few hours until guests start to arrive, but it feels more likely that Felicity would have gotten over one of their 'bickers' in that amount of time than this.

And why wouldn't it? They have over a decade of experience of shouting back-and-forth about the best, safest, or most efficient way to do something. Justifying their positions. Saying things like, "We don't have time for this!"

He's only asked her to be his wife once.

It's a good thing there's still so much time. She's going to need it to find strength in her limbs again. And to fix her makeup. Thea, if she didn't already know what was happening in the family room, will almost certainly be willing to help, under the circumstance. After all, Thea's not just her best friend or Oliver's little sister, anymore. She's her future sister-in-law.

That means there's a wedding to plan. And her mother's arrival is... imminent. There will be no end to the 'help' she'll get. And God forbid Oliver actually mention kids as casually as he did, earlier. They may be lucky if Donna ever moves out of the --

Felicity's eyes had drifted from Oliver's after that exchange, staring at the ring he slipped onto her finger as if she couldn't believe it was real. She'd lost herself in a moment of thought, just savoring the way the band fits her finger, letting her thumb touch it as if to make sure it didn't just vanish in a puff of smoke.

But when that thought about her mother hits her, her eyes snap back up to Oliver's through her glasses, widening and sharpening, her expression morphing as if in slow-motion to shocked realization.

"You KNEW!" she accuses, though a bemused grin tugs at one corner of her mouth.

"You stood there, today, and teased me with all of that talk about marriage and kids and starting a family some day, and you _knew_ you were going to propose!"

Dress be damned.

She turns and sinks into him, pushing him back like she's trying to off-balance him and knock him onto his rump so she can straddle his lap in front of the fire. Her hands settle on his shoulders, and though there's a playful amount of indignation in her voice, there's nothing but the radiant light of her love for him in her eyes or her smile.

"You, Mister Queen, are a devious sneak."

Her head dips closer, the tip of her nose brushing gently against the side of his in a soft, affectionate snuggle.

"And I'm very, very happy that you're mine."

Oliver Queen has posed:
Truth be told, Oliver wasn't thinking too much about the party this evening, or that she might need a little time to compose herself. Certainly it works out well, that they have some time to themselves still before they have to worry about any of that. That there is a little time for the fact that in the not so distant future they will not just be dating, but will actually be married.

But for Oliver, the important part was asking her before the holidays were well and truly on them. Certainly the annual Queen holiday get-together is a pretty good marker of when they begin. Because the blonde billionaire has already come to the conclusion that he wasn't willing to go another holiday season without at least trying to insure that she would be his for every future season to come.

He may have invited her to move in, to join him in his home, to encourage her to think of this mansion, of the New York Penthouse of theirs. But it is past time that he made it official, at least in his mind.

And the fact that she has agreed is most definitely a wait off his mind. It is one thing to sincerely believe that she wants this every bit as much as he does, but it is quite another to have that definitive answer. To know that there are people they are going to have to share this news with. That there are preparations to make. That there is a wedding to still attend. That there are children in their future.

He's rather looking forward to that part in particular.

Yes, he wanted to be able to share this news tonight, at least with those closest to them. To let Thea and Diggle and Emiko know. To have the chance for Felicity to tell her mom that all her not so subtle prodding has finally bourne fruit and that she is engaged. That there are indeed grandchildren in her future.

That when they wake up on Christmas morning, at the beginning of Hanukkah that the countdown to them formally being joined together, forever, will have already begun.

While Felicity might be feeling a little boneless at the moment, Oliver is more then happy to draw her in close, to lend that support under she finds a measure of composure.

The ring itself is platinum instead of cold, white and pristine, with a central diamond stone in a circular cut and an assortment of small circular swirls - not unlike targets. Fitting for them.

He can't deny that he did indeed know when he teases her earlier today and when she all but tackles him, he is only too happy to sink back, to cushion her own descent, arms going around her to cradle her close. "I actually had the ring in the drawer to my desk," he admits wryly, his own hands sliding to frame her body. "I thought about asking you then and there, honestly. It felt like it could make sense. I mean, the office is where I met you," he points out.

"But in the end I thought maybe it was just a little bit better to do it in the home we're going to share. In the place where we'll raise our children," he adds quietly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips. "I can't wait to start the rest of our life together Felicity. With you as my wife."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
The playful edge to Felicity's voice was, perhaps, an attempt to cut a little of the heavy, emotional tension that had welled up inside her. It didn't need to be cut. She could be vulnerable with Oliver, tell him all of her most private thoughts, and trust that he would be right there to listen, to hold her, to give her whatever reassurance and comfort she needed. Just like she would be for him.

But Felicity isn't the kind of woman to sit and weep. There are times -- everyone has times. But this is a celebration, a new beginning, a promise for a future filled with the kind of love that before Oliver she'd only ever dreamed about.

So she sinks down into him, slides her hand down over his shoulder until she can feel his heart through his shirt, padding against her palm, and gazes into his eyes. Her cheeks still glisten in the firelight, moist from her tears. The music still plays in the background. The tree twinkles. The room as a whole still feels like it belongs wrapped up in a present underneath a Christmas tree in the North Pole. It's... magical.

It's the room they're all going to open presents in. Not just this year, but in years to come. Many, many years to come. And every time they do, she'll be able to think back to this exact moment -- this exact spot in front of the fireplace -- and remember.

"It's perfect," she whispers, returning that kiss softly.

Yet it's the mention of children and the single word -- wife -- that draws her gaze back down to her own hand sitting on his chest. The ring that shines there, bright and sparkling. She sees it, too -- the targets. It's there in her eyes. It makes her smile, even as another tear slides down her cheek.

His wife. The... mother of his child.. ren. A quiet, private laugh escapes a little more than a soft huff of air through her nose, the warm, amused moment fleeting but obvious in her features.

"Don't _ever_ let anyone accuse you of not being sentimental," she muses, her mind drifting briefly back to her thoughts earlier.

She was wrong. There were still surprises left, even now, in the depths of his warmth, his love, and, apparently, his sentimentality.

"You are such a deep, complex, and thoughtful man." Her voice just above a whisper as she slips her left hand over to his bicep, down over his elbow, his forearm. Finding hos hand, she threads her fingers through his, letting him feel the edges of the ring she wears. "I've always known it, but you still surprise me with just how amazing you are. And I look forward to those surprises... for the rest of our lives."

Oliver Queen has posed:
Naturally Oliver ran through all sorts of different scenarios in his head.

He considered asking her in the office because that is where they met, that is where they spent so much time together, especially in the early years. That was the place he discovered just how truly remarkable she was.

He considered making a production out of it, of waiting for the party and asking her in front of everyone gathered. Their family, their friends and professional colleagues, just so everyone would know and absolutely no one would have any doubts just how he felt about her. to share the moment with the various people in their lives.

He considered doing it in the Arrowcave, as it is so very central to their lives, to the bond that they've formed, though that was ultimately dismissed because this is about Oliver and Felicity, not Green Arrow and Overwatch. And while the later might be part of the former, they are both more then that. Especially when they are together.

He considered some lavish dinner out on the town, one of their favorite places with amazing food and champagne and the works. He considered whisking her off to Paris so they could do it in the supposed romance capital of the world. He considered dozens upon dozens of possibilities in the end.

But doing it here and now, in their home, just the two of them felt right. Doing it in their little nest of holiday cheer, one that doesn't have to be shared with the outside world, that is just for them and those closest to them. To do it by the warmth of the fire, to do it while holiday music plays in the background and lights glint merrily off of ornaments in gold and red and green and every other color under the sun.

He has known for awhile that he was going to ask her this question one day. He might have known it even before they officially started dating. But this place is their home. It only seems fitting that one of their happiest memories should be rooted here?

Not many people would accuse Oliver of being sentimental. But not many people know him like she knows him. Not many people get to see that side of him. Not many people get to see how much his family means to him.

And Felicity is most definitely part of his family now.

"I have my moments," he agrees wryly, any of that earlier restraint, that promise to not muss her pretty much abandonned. But then her draped on him, the earlier tears, all of that has already had a toll on her perfectly made-up self. They'll still have time to fix it.

For now Oliver is only too happy to luxuriate in her presence, to tangle fingers in her hair and draw her in for another warm, lingering kiss. His Felicity. His wife to be. The eventual mother of their children. Yeah, he's sentimental. He has pretty good cause.

"I'm glad you think so. It felt... right for us," he admits quietly. He doesn't go through every possibility he considered. He doesn't need to.

She knows him. And he knows her.

"I think you'll find that I might still have a few surprises in store for you," he agrees, lopesided grin sliding over his expression. "As I imagine you'll continue to find ways to surprise me."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Speaking of surprises, just at that moment, the heavy wooden door of the family room slides open, and Thea steps inside, dressed to the nines in her signature style. Her forest-green cocktail dress is sleek and modern, paired with bold gold jewelry and sky-high heels that give her the unmistakable air of a Queen -- a modern Queen, that is. Her hair is swept back into an effortless twist, her makeup sharp and striking, like she's ready to grace the cover of a fashion magazine after the party.

Thea pauses mid-step, her sharp gaze immediately falling on Felicity perched on Oliver's lap. Her eyebrows shoot up, and without missing a beat, she covers her eyes with one hand. "Oh my God," she groans dramatically, already turning halfway toward the door. "I don't want to know. I really don't want to know. Carry on with... whatever this is."

Felicity freezes, and then bursts into laughter -- half-embarrassed, half-overjoyed. She slides off Oliver's lap quickly, her cheeks flushed, and waves a hand in Thea's direction. "No! Wait -- wait! It's not what it looks like!" she says, the words tumbling out in a rapid-fire rush that only Felicity can manage.

Thea pauses, her hand still covering her face, though she peeks cautiously between her fingers. "Not what it looks like?" she deadpans, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because it looks like I walked in on... well... not exactly a Hallmark movie."

Felicity takes a step forward before she thrusts her left hand out, the ring catching the flickering firelight and glittering brilliantly. "Oliver asked me to marry him!" she blurts, her voice pinched with excitement. She sounds... giddy. It's not at all normal for Felicity, and a testament to exactly how happy she really is. "See? Maybe a Hallmark moment, but, like, a _classy_ one."

Thea's hand drops immediately, her jaw falling open as she strides across the room to grab Felicity's hand. "Wait. What?!" Her heels click against the hardwood as she inspects the ring closely, her expression moving from stunned to approving. She glances up at Oliver, her smirk already forming.

"Okay, I'll give you this one," she says, tilting her head with a mixture of sarcasm and affection. "That's not bad, big brother. Not bad at all."

Thea leans in to give Oliver a quick hug, her tone light but tinged with affection as she mutters, "Seriously, Ollie? Took you long enough." She pulls back, her grin widening as she turns her attention to Felicity, wrapping her in a warm hug. "And you -- welcome to the family. Officially." As she steps back, her grin turns mischievous. "Oh, and just so we're clear? I'm calling maid of honor. Like, right now. Dibs. It's mine."

Felicity blinks, her mouth opening and closing as she scrambles to process. She hadn't even thought that far ahead -- but now that the idea's out there, there's no one else in the world she'd want by her side. "I mean... obviously," she stammers, laughing softly. "I wouldn't dare -- "

"Good," Thea interrupts, her smirk firmly in place as she crosses her arms. "Then we're good."

Felicity laughs again, the sound warm and full, her fingers tightening around Oliver's as she shakes her head. "Oh, yeah. Totally good. Except..." She trails off, gesturing vaguely around her face with a circular sweep. "I may need some help fixing... all this. In a little bit."

Thea's gaze flicks over Felicity's tear-streaked cheeks and mussed hair before her laughter bubbles up, bright and teasing. She winks. "Don't worry. I've got you."

Oliver Queen has posed:
All in all, it could have been so much worse.

Picture instead, Edmund walking in on them, that smug, superior attitude and the sardonic look on his face as he catches the Lord and Lady of the Manor sprawled out and disheaveled on the floor. Suddenly Thea's teasing doesn't look so bad in comparison.

Thea at least, afterall, is going to be family - well and truly - in the near future. Not that she isn't already after a fashion of course. But soon it will be official.

Felicity might have been raised an only child, but she's going to have two sisters going forward. One more change for her to process.

Oliver, on the other hand, is very used to her teasing already. He doesn't look particularly abashed at having been caught by his sister in what appears to be, at first blush, a pretty compromising position and instead only gives a small shake of his head, shooting a look towards her. In fairness it's not like he asked for privacy, or told her not to barge right on in. And it is her house too.

When Felicity hastily insists that it isn't what it looks like, Oliver just can't resist. "But it could have been. Your timing is as impecable as ever Speedy. Just a few more minutes..." he teases, more Felicity then his sister, but maybe a little bit is directed Thea's way as well. She probably doesn't really need to dwell too much on what her brother and his now finacee get up to when they have a semblance of privacy.

It probably isn't even the first time that she has caught them in a semi-compromising position either, in all likelihood. The mansion might be big, but perhaps not big enough to entirely contain Oliver and Felicity.

As Felicity starts to scamper to her feet, Ollie is there to help her, slowly rising himself. While he hasn't yet changed for the evening's party, he does make a show of brushing off his pant legs, watching with a little grin as Felicty hurries over to his sister, eager to show off what exactly it is that they were doing on the floor.

The significance of the ring is clearly not lost on the young woman, even before Felicity blurts out the news, that obvious excitement making Oliver's heart swell just a little. He would never have any doubts, not about her, not about them, but if he did, the sheer joy in her voice would surely have dispelled them.

As Thea comes over to congratualte him, he returns that brief hug, giving a wry look and shrug of his shoulders. "We can't all be as quick as you Speedy," he teases once more, slipping back over to Felicity's side and taking her hand in his own, fingers lacing together. "I can be a little slower sometimes, but I still get there," he adds, the warmth of that gaze turned fully on his lady love. On his future wife.

As the pair settles on at least one detail of the upcoming nuptials, Ollie grins once more, even more so when Felicity makes it clear that she might need some help getting all straightened out once more.

"If you really want to have to put in some heavy duty work to get her ready again, you could always leave us alone for an hour or so. I guarantee you that I can get her even more mussed in no time at all," he teases.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"Oliver!" Felicity hisses, turning pink and whipping her gaze back to 'glare' at him through her glasses. Of course, she's unable to hide that infectious smile on her lips.

Thea groans loudly, rolling her eyes with all the melodramatic flair of a younger sibling thoroughly fed up with her older brother's antics. She raises both hands in the air, palms out, like she's physically trying to block the mental images Oliver's teasing is conjuring. Still, there's a curl of a smile and an endearing roll of her eyes. "Oh my God, Ollie. Seriously? I'm going to have to bleach my brain now. You're my brother. Could you not?"

But before Oliver can respond with yet another quip, she rounds on Felicity, fixing her soon-to-be sister-in-law with an overly serious expression and dropping her voice into a loud, conspiratorial whisper. "Are you _sure_ you want my brother as your husband? Because I'm just saying... you still have time to run."

The word 'husband' seems to hang in the air for a moment.

Felicity's laughter, which had been bubbling up at Thea's theatrics, quiets as the word settles in. Her gaze shifts to Oliver, and for a second, with the firelight dancing between them, all of her focus seems to narrow to him again. She blinks once, then again, as if she's processing something new, something profound. And maybe she is. Maybe for the first time, it's really sinking in. Not just her fiance. Soon, Oliver, her _husband_.

Her thumb brushes lightly over the back of his hand, her grip tightening slightly as she lets the weight of the word sink in. Then her lips curve into a smile, soft and steady. "Absolutely."

Thea pauses, caught off-guard by the simplicity and conviction of the response, and her theatrics are replaced by something much softer. "Welllll," she finally says, drawing the word out, "if anyone's going to take on this mess of a brother of mine, I'm glad it's you."

But before the sentimentality can settle in for too long, Oliver throws out his final teasing jab about 'mussing' Felicity even further. Thea freezes mid-smile, her face contorting into a mask of exaggerated horror. "Oh my God, no!" she practically yells, hands flying up again. "Why are you like this? I don't need to hear this! Ever!"

She spins on her heel dramatically, already heading for the door, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. "Nope. Nope. I'm out. I am _so_ done," she declares, waving a hand over her shoulder as she makes her exit. "Felicity, when Oliver's done 'mussing' you, come find me. I promise, we'll fix whatever damage he's done."

She pauses in the doorway, glancing back at them with a smirk that's equal parts sibling sass and genuine warmth. "And Ollie? That was _not_ a challenge."

With that, she slips out, the door sliding shut behind her, leaving Oliver and Felicity alone again. The sound of her footsteps echo down the hall, fading into the distance. And for a moment, the room is quiet again except for the soft crackle of the fire and the faint strains of holiday music in the background.

Felicity turns back to Oliver, still smiling, though her cheeks are tinged pink with embarrassment. "Well, that could have been worse," her muses with a laugh, leaning into him just a little, her fingers still laced tightly with his. But there's still something lingering in her eyes.

Warmth. Awe.

"So... _husband_," she says, teasingly adding a bit of extra emphasis on the title as she moves around in front of him, looking up at him with warm affection radiating from her features, "what did you have in mind for the next couple of hours? Because, if it involves mussing, we should probably go somewhere with a little less... traffic."

Oliver Queen has posed:
What is even the point of having siblings if you can't mess with them?

Oliver doesn't begrudge the interruption. He had a chance to get the words out, Felicity had a chance to respond and they had a chance to have a moment to just... bask in the fact that what has been building between them for quite some time has finally reached the point where 'the future' isn't just some vague notion of what will eventually arrive.

It's right on the horizon now.

It is probably far too late for Thea, or anyone else for that matter to talk them out of this. It was probably too late before they even ever started to date officially. Somehow it feels like they have been on this particular collison course for a long time now. Maybe not from the first moment that he set foot into the Queen Consolidated IT department. But if not then, not terribly long after that. Despite all the little twists and turns that life might have to offer them both.

"I don't know, it seems to me that it is exactly the right thing to say to achieve the results I'm looking for," Oliver counters to Thea's jibe as he sends her running for cover at last, grin sliding over his features. But then it is awfully hard to stop smiling. It has been since Felicity said yes.

Imagine that.

"Too late," he is quick to add to his sister as she starts to beat a hasty retreat for the door. "Challenge accepted," he insists. He's probably joking. Or possibly not. They do still have a few hours until they need to start greeting their guests afterall.

He does finally drop that teasing demenaor before Thea can slip away entirely and while he may linger at Felicity's side, he smiles warmnly after his sister. "Thea, I'm glad you were here for this," he offers up quietly. "We'll tell everyone else later tonight, when we can find a moment during the party. I wanted everyone to be around shortly after so we could share this," he explains. Well, almost everyone. Moira's still off who knows where of ocurse, but Oliver isn't sure that's entirely a bad thing.

Then, as if he can't resist the temptation, that devilish look creeps back into his gaze. "Oh, and when you come looking for Felicity later, you might want to make sure you knock before entering. Or maybe listen outside the door. I'll try to make sure that it is obvious what's going on if we are otherwise engaged."

There. Now she can flee. There are rarely decisively victories amongst siblings, but Ollie feels that he came out of that exchange fairly well.

Turning back to his blushing bride to be, he steps out in front of her once more, free hand settling on her hip, drawing her in close to him. "Oh, I think it went pretty good. I think Thea probably did make a pretty good dry run before we tell everyone else," he admits. Though in fairness, he can't imagine Donna, Diggle or any of the rest of their close friends having anything but positive, happy feelings for them.

Husband. In some ways it feels strange to think that soon that is exactly what he will be. First husband, then father. Joined with the most amazing woman in the world. He never expected it, not really.

Now he doesn't want anything else more.

"Well, that all depends," he admits with an impish grin. "If you're hugry, we could always go hunt Edmund down and see if we can get a preview of the treats early," he suggests. It will be a long night. Fueling up before hand isn't the worst of ideas.

"Otherwise," he continues, that devilish gleam creeping back into his eyes, "otherwise I think that I might just have to drag you upstairs and start practicing for the honeymoon."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
'I'll try to make sure that it is obvious what's going on if we are otherwise engaged...'

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Thea calls, only her hand lingering inside the door, middle finger raised towards Oliver, before she storms off in mock disgust.

This, of course, all happens under a shower of Felicity's laughter. Laughter that rings out in the room above the sounds of the crackling fire and soft carols.

"You are _awful_," she chides once she's in front of him, gazing up at him, eyes wide and bright with mischief of her own.

He's right, though. Thea was always going to be excited for them. She was, after all, one of the supporters of 'Team Olicity' that had been advocating for union between them long before they ever actually made anything official. Whatever she might tease about her brother at this point, Thea has been a major part of both of their lives.

"Ooooh," Felicity croons, narrowing her eyebrows as if pretending to 'consider' as she sways a little with her future husband. She's taking advantage of the moment of standing there, arms draped once more over his shoulders with the music playing softly in the background, to let her over-flowing happiness come out in a slow dance.

"Let's see... that's a tough choice. Do I want to go hang out with Edmund in the kitchen and beg for a bite of something unrecognizable on a cracker," she re-states the first option, trying _very_ hard to keep a straight face.

It's not really working. Though in reality, the catering for the party will be delicious, full of mini beef wellingtons, smoked salmon blinis, prosciutto-wrapped asparagus, goat cheese and cranberry crostinis... the list goes on and on. Honestly, it's ridiculously good by any standards, much less for food that's been carried around the room on a tray.

"Or get dragged into bed with my fiance until we absolutely _must_ make an appearance?"

She pretends to cringe and bite her lip, staring up at him while still trying so hard to pretend it's actually a tough choice. Maybe... maybe someone, somewhere, who had never met her before could possibly be fooled into believing it was any decision at all. And yet, she continues to stretch it out, very intentionally lingering to build the tension... to see if Oliver will call her on her bluff... to push just a little, to get him to push back.

"...Do you think Edmund has any of those little cheesecakes?"

A wicked, playful smile curls her lips.

Oliver Queen has posed:
The food might not be to everyone's taste of course, but there is no doubt that it willl be plentiful and delicious. Like every other effort for their party tonight, they haven't cut any corners.

And while it might not have been how they would have chosen to spend the evening, it isn't just about them. It is a tradition, one that the employees of Queen Consolidated appreciate. It's a tradition that Thea tends to appreciate, a reminder of growing up. When their family was still complete.

In fairness, it is a pretty good opportunity for them to share the news with those that they chose as well, so there is that too. It feels like a pretty good compromise.

Insufferable? Him? Well, maybe just a little. Felicity's accusation on his awfulness merely draws a smile from him and his fingers tighten around her own. "Well, yes. But in fairness that's what big brothers are supposed to do. Torment their baby sisters," he asserts lightly. Which might not exactly be a part of the formal job description, but apparently Oliver is rewriting the manual on the fly.

Then that smile turns decidedly chesire-like and that hand on her hip starts sliding around towards her back, pulling her in hard against him. "Besides, you knew what you were getting into, so I think that maybe, just maybe, you don't mind a little awfulness," he points out archly.

By the time she starts ruminating over the difficulty in making the decision, his lips have already found their way to one side of her neck, nuzzling softly there. "Begging for table scraps does sound like it could be entertaining," Oliver agrees, sounding more then a little distracted. For some unknown reason.

"And just think of all the fun you can have, making Edmund sniff derisively and rolls his eyes discretely behind your back," he points out.

Who wouldn't go for that option? Way less work then heading back upstairs for fun time.

See? That is one of the countless reasons why they are perfect for each other, and when Felicity makes her own comeback, Oliver gives a little snort and a laugh, pursing his lips to try and hold back his own answering grin. "Oh so that's how it's going to be huh?" he asks lightly.

Then, without ceremony, he dips a shoulder and simply drapes her across it, turning for the door and the hallway beyond. "I think I'm going to have to overrule you. On this occasion at least," he asserts, starting to literally carry her towards the stairs.

"But I'll definitely make it up to you when we get up there," he assures her.

Promises, promises.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"Well, you do tend to be exceptional at everything you put your mind to..."

The words are past Felicity's lips before she realizes all of the implications of them, especially given how much huskier her voice became with his hand -- that large, strong hand -- slid over her hip and around to the small of her back.

It might have been one of her smaller double entendres, but it isn't a statement she would retract. Ever. No matter how much it made the heat in her cheeks glow brighter.

There's a sharp little inhale when she's suddenly pulled forward, hips to hips, belly flush against his, eyes flashing with heat.

'...just maybe, you don't mind a little awfulness.'

He said those words. He actually _said_ them. And his voice... how does he do that with his voice? How does he make that low rumble reach all the way down inside her until she can feel it start to curl her toes?

By the time she gets to wondering about the cheesecake, he's not the only one who's a little distracted by the spark that always ignites the air between them -- what little air there is left between them.

Or in the room.

Did someone throw like eight additional logs on the fire or something?

Felicity's breathing a little shallower. A little faster. Her heart is pounding against the promise of Oliver pressed against her, his mouth so close, the way her fingers curl through his and bump against that new weight -- that pleasant weight -- on her finger.

By the time he's asking her if that's how it's going to be, she's so caught up in him that her reaction takes seconds. Seconds she doesn't have. Her mouth falls open, no doubt in preparation for some witty retort, but what comes out instead is a scream of surprise that was surely heard out into and down the hallway. Pleased laughter follows, likely calming anyone who might have even considered rushing to check on what kind of scoundrel had snuck in and was trying to abscond with Felicity.

"Oliver!" she squeals, but they're already out in the hallway, heading towards the staircase, passing a couple of staff hired for the party and turning Felicity's face even redder.

She, of course, doesn't get to see them until they're already past. And then they're climbing the stairs with Felicity looking behind, giving a half-hearted wave to their stunned-to-silence faces.

"It's fine!" she reassures them, still unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. She holds up her left hand to point deliberately at the glittering ring. "Everything's fine. It's just my fiance." Also, it's Oliver Queen, and they're well aware of that, too, but this is a more fun way to explain it. Especially since it makes absolutely no sense, given that Oliver Queen doesn't have a fiancee that anyone besides Thea Queen is aware of. It might be a little while before she goes back to referring to him by his name again. "He's just... helping me... back... upstairs..."

She's _such_ a horrible liar. Of course, it doesn't help that she's literally being carried, cave-man style, by a man who can and has appeared on the covers of magazines. A handsome face that women world-wide have swooned over, and they have no idea how incredible he really is. There's really no use fighting the blush or the guilty little laugh.

"Carry on!" she calls once they're finally ascending out of shouting distance.

Always awkward. Always Felicity.

But his. Always and forever his.