#arrow ff

They sit in silence for a moment. Oliver’s eyes scan her, just as she had stared at him a moment ago. He takes in the bright pink hair, the gash across her forehead, and the bruises on her knuckles. She feels his gaze on every inch of her face.

Then the Arrow enters his eyes. “What the hell happened?” he growls softly. “You were supposed to be safe. They promised me—”

“Turns out not even the FBI can keep every promise,” she replies. She’s not trying to make it an accusation—right now, anyway; it’s what she’s been thinking for five months—but he bows his head again. “Oliver.”

He shakes his head, the hand still resting across from hers trembling. “This isn’t what I wanted, Felicity. You and William were supposed to be okay, and I was supposed to be in here for a few weeks at the most. Not five months.”

Felicity shrugs helplessly. John’s told her what Oliver’s brain has been doing to him in supermax, and it’s not been pretty to hear. But now she’s seeing it—and her heart breaks for the thousandth time in the past five months. “You told John you were lying low. Staying out of trouble. Avoiding conflict.”

Oliver’s laugh is biting and harsh. “You knew better.”

“Of course,” Felicity bites back, shifting to clutch the phone with both hands. “You told the world you were the Arrow before entering a prison full of people who’d love nothing more than to see the Arrow dead. Of course you’d end up in as many fights as on the outside. If not more, Oliver!”

Oliver clutches the phone a little tighter and his muscles clench, his other hand forming a fist on the table. The past few months flash across his face, and she wants nothing more than to hug him.

“William’s doing fine,” she finally whispers, when Oliver’s face manages to calm down again. “He’s in summer school for fun.” Oliver lets out a breathy of a laugh. “I’ve kept him safe, Oliver. He’s not happy all of the time, but he’s okay.”

“I’m glad,” Oliver smiles. It’s almost a real smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“I shouldn’t have had to, Oliver.”

“There’s so much you’ve done that you never should have had to do,” he retorts. “You’ve been everything to me, the only thing that keeps me alive. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, what all of it means to me.”

Felicity tries to smile, fails again, changes the subject. If this were a longer visit, this would probably be where she’d yell at him. Cry. Curse him for leaving her, for leaving his son. Sacrificing everything they’d ever wanted just to catch a second-rate mobster. Abandoning them for the good of a city that hated them.

But they only have a few more minutes. And they’re precious seconds, after all.

“Watson says they’re close to finding him. But the Hunters are coming, and it is not my job to fight them off.” She remembers the coffee shop, and her hands clench around the phone. Oliver’s face tightens briefly, guessing the story without her having to say a word. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Oliver presses his hand against the glass again, his eyes pleading. Then Felicity hears the door behind her open, and she wonders how Oliver knew it was coming. “Visitation is over,” a security guard intones. The father throws the phone on the table without another word, stepping to the door, and the woman steps away, sobbing. She presses her hand to Oliver’s on the other side of the glass. “Mrs. Queen, it’s time to go.”

“I love you,” Oliver says urgently. “I love you and William so much, Felicity. I’ll never stop fighting to get back to you.”

“I love you too,” she chokes out. The guard is standing right behind her. She stands, mirroring Oliver’s movements. “I’ll see you soon.”

Oliver’s smile is sad as he hangs up the phone. There’s one tear moving down his cheek, and she turns away before her own tears fall.

She opened her eyes and stared at the line of script again. His handwriting was pretty nice. It didn’t really match the happy-go-lucky multi-college dropout she’d seen in the papers for years. The Queen name was infamous in the western USA for more than just Queen Consolidated and the elder Queens. She was one of the few girls in her high school who didn’t absolutely swoon over the escapades of Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn. She’d grown up hearing horror stories about trust fund babies like Oliver Queen.

But now he was dead. That was the funny—and tragic—thing about soulmarks, her grandma always said. They never showed up until one partner was dead. In the years in between their death and yours, you got to live your life knowing one of two things. That you chose correctly and your other half was gone—or that you missed your chance and now you’d never have the chance to find that perfect person.

It was all ridiculous, really. It still was, even as Felicity accidentally memorized the curves of the O and the Q.

Now what to do about the whole thing.

She couldn’t really mourn for something she never, ever wanted or someone she thought was dead already. She was only eighteen—too much of a life ahead of her to mourn for the famous Oliver Queen. Felicity shook her head and stared at the wall of her dorm room. She wouldn’t do that.

She couldn’t really tell anyone, either. She pictured walking up to Moira Queen, showing her the newly marked arm and proof that it wasn’t Sharpie… “Hi, I just found out I’m your son’s soulmate. Although of course, in order for me to know that, that means that he’s dead. Yeah, he just died, not when you and the rest of the world thought he did about a year ago. Have fun with that knowledge!”

Yeah, no. That wouldn’t work either. Mrs. Queen would either kill her—as any mother would probably be tempted to do in that moment—or—if she felt generous and Felicity managed to not say inappropriate things—adopt her. Neither of which would be conducive to finishing her degrees.

Felicity glanced down at her arm again. Only one thing to do—cover it up. If she ever got a boyfriend, she could pretend she had a really wild night in Vegas before she hasta la vista-ed her way out of there. Or something like that.

She halfway fell off her bed in her haste to get to her dresser, tore off her short-sleeved pajama shirt—Mathletics Champion 2007, whoo—and tugged on a loose long-sleeved black t-shirt. Not nearly as comfortable, but much better for hiding the problematic words. Which was apparently what she was going to have to do from now on.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was all over the place and she apparently hadn’t gotten all of her mascara off. Whatever fates were out there—they’d decided that she, Felicity Megan Smoak, was now doomed to be alone slash freed at the age of eighteen. It was a peculiar feeling. She was tied to no one.

Felicity turned the light back off and allowed herself one tear—or five—for Oliver Queen. He was her soulmate, after all. That kind of thing was okay.

--

Apparently, it’s impossible were to be the first words that would come to Felicity’s mind whenever she thought about Oliver Queen. Admittedly, she hadn’t really thought about him since the mark appeared—after that, it had just been a groan or a sigh whenever she saw the words written in her skin, cursing the lie she kept from the rest of the world and the fact that she had this guy’s name on her arm forever—but she was staring at the TV screen and thinking IT’S IMPOSSIBLE HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE.

Because Oliver Queen was alive. Completely alive and breathing and not dead in the middle of nowhere.

At least all of the major TV networks were saying so. They were screaming it, really: Billionaire Oliver Queen Found in North China Sea after Being Shipwrecked for Five Years and other variations of that. There were pictures of him pre- and post-island and… was it really that terrible to think “Oliver, good sir, the island has done you good”? Because that was what she first thought when she saw the newest picture, and she kept thinking it every time she saw a new picture.

There were many coming in as the man was escorted out of the hospital on the way toward the Queen mansion. And they were all beautiful.

His arms were bare of any Felicity Smoak in her handwriting, so apparently it was just her soulmark that had gone kerflooey. Not that it made any sense, of course. And it wasn’t like she was going to have the opportunity to track him down and ask him if he’d died at any point in his Castaway excursion.

Probably not the polite thing to do, and also he was alive, and there’d have been no way to come back to life on an abandoned island in the middle of the ocean. Or come back to life at all, no matter the location or situation. Not logical.

Also she was just an IT girl, even if she was working at Queen Consolidated. She would never meet Oliver Queen at all unless the fates had a really twisted sense of humor. She frowned suddenly. That would be the height of irony—if she’d only gotten this job so she could meet Oliver Queen.

Felicity pulled up the sleeve of her cardigan and stared at the cursive. She glanced back up at Oliver’s face. And back down at her arm. They did have a twisted idea of humorous.

--

Oliver saw the mark on Felicity’s arm for the first time in Nanda Parbat. He had no idea how he’d missed it over the three years of them spending most of their time together, but he’d never really thought to study her arm. Apparently she wore long-sleeved shirts more than he realized or had found some really good cover up.

Many more interesting things to look at on the woman he loved, like her eyes and her hair and everything else.

They were lying in the bed, shirts scattered across the room. She was sprawled halfway across his chest, fingers tracing the scars gently, her left arm thrown carelessly over his chest. Oliver Queen was written on her arm in his handwriting.

“Is that…” he couldn’t get all of the syllables out. He’d heard stories, of course, heard tales in Hong Kong and Starling, even seen the word on Slade’s arm that made him think that Shado was his. But he hadn’t really believed it.

Felicity glanced down at her arm. “Oh, yeah,” she murmured, cuddling into his side a little more. “Showed up about three years before you returned alive. Three and a half, actually. I was still at MIT.” He could hear it in her voice, the struggle to sound completely casual. Problem: it was Felicity, and  nonchalance was really not her strong suit.

He tried to follow her example. “So, soulmarks are real, then. That’s cool.”

“Yep.”

Oliver then tried to forget about the whole thing, but every time they moved in the slightest—and he should really be getting up to make sure Felicity intended to leave—he remembered the writing on her arm. He opened his mouth to comment on it again, but Felicity beat him to it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you! It’s just—it was really weird, the whole ‘I have a dead guy’s name on my arm’ and then the whole ‘oh yeah everyone thought he died almost two years ago’ and then, well, you were alive. Which was great, and completely surprising. I should have told you, shouldn’t I have? Speaking of, did you die at some point around then? Because if not, then the whole myth about them is completely wrong. And anyway, you didn’t think of me in any sort of way that warranted the great showing of the soulmark that you normally wouldn’t be able to see since—”

He kissed her. It was the only way that he could think of to stop the babbling.

“—you’d be dead,” she whispered. He smiled against her lips, prepared to tell the story.

“About a year and a half into the island part, Slade Wilson and I were fighting on a ship close to the island. The ship exploded soon afterward. Amanda Waller picked me up for training in Hong Kong and claimed to have brought me back once I woke up. I assume that the few minutes of no heartbeat and no breathing were enough to trigger… this.” He brushed his fingers along the mark slowly and carefully.

Felicity lifted her head back from its place on his chest, shifted a little to face him properly, and smiled. “We outsmarted the soulmarks,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinned. There was a lot he wanted to say but couldn’t. They weren’t words he wanted to leave her with. They’d only been given this night, after all. After tonight, he couldn’t belong to her anymore.

They kissed one more time, then Felicity pushed herself off of him and stepped over to the bottle of some sort of alcoholic beverage, yanking on a robe along the way. It didn’t quite cover up his name on her skin. He smiled before standing, the sudden grimness of his thoughts not nearly enough to smother the glow in his soul that Felicity had given him.

He didn’t know what he would do if Felicity Smoak ever appeared on his arm.

--

Oliver had asked her to marry him. Felicity had said yes, her smile lighting up the night. He’d put the ring on her finger. They were in a limo, happily riding away to wherever. Anywhere. They’d be together—forever. Happily ever after or whatever the fairy tales demanded.

This wasn’t a fairy tale. This wasn’t the kind of story someone should believe in, have to watch, be forced to recognize as life. Life as the fates demanded.

He couldn’t stop seeing it. Feeling it. Watching the bullets race toward them, smelling the blood in the air, holding her in the street, eyes darting all around and wondering what could happen next.

Oliver had felt the burn on his arm in the hospital. He didn’t really pay attention to it, just heard the nurses yelling for oxygen and paddles. He knew what it was, what the pain meant, because he was listening the long beep of Felicity flat lining.

He’d watched her die. He watched his fiancée and love of his life die. His soulmate.

He’d stood by helplessly as they brought her back, but those were the worst twenty-three seconds of his life. He’d thought that he’d already lived more than enough horrible moments to create those terrible twenty-three seconds. They weren’t supposed to be like this. Not about her.

He stood on the rooftop, attacking Darhk’s man. “Where. Is. Darhk?” were the only words he really said aside from the grunts and the yells. He threw the man into the electrical box, watched it spark around him.

The man jumped from the roof and entangled himself in some more wires for a crispy death. Oliver looked down at him and turned away from the mess he’d made. His arm ached again, but it was just the memory. Oliver would never forget that sharp burn, comparable to most of his other injuries, but gone sooner. He hadn’t looked at his arm yet; he’d avoided the sight when he changed into his leathers and hood after making sure that Felicity was okay and out of danger.

He had to look, though, to see the miracle that was Felicity, now written into his skin forever. He removed the gauntlet and closed his eyes for a moment before staring.

Felicity Smoak, his arm now read. Would forever read.

He found himself on his knees, and tears finally ran down his cheeks. He’d always known he wouldn’t like the person he’d become when this name appeared on his skin. They both knew he would go off the rails, the deep end.

He had to go back to the hospital and take the ring back to her, the ring that the nurse should never have removed. He stood up and stretched, covering the name on his arm with the glove once more.

That wasn’t even the most important thing right now. Felicity was alive, and Darhk would suffer for hurting the woman the Green Arrow loved.

--

They were lying in bed after getting home from the new base. They were still in fancy dress, except Oliver’s jacket, which was tossed haphazardly on the couch. “How can it have come to this?” Felicity whispered. “It’s a perfectly great day, all dressed up and married and nothing wrong with the world and then I jinx it.”

“You didn’t jinx it,” Oliver murmured, pulling her a little closer. “It’s our life.”

“And now someone on the team is going to testify against you and we’re searching them and suspecting them and that can’t possibly end well and I know we aren’t really planning our honeymoon yet because of work and the team and William but this doesn’t feel like any sort of honeymoon period and that’s actually really depressing and—”

And she was cut off with Oliver’s mouth on hers. She was really glad he’d decided that was the best way to shut the rambles up. It was a really good way, more effective than the counting backwards or anything else in the history of ever. It calmed her brain down very nicely and turned her thoughts to Oliver and happiness and not much else. Presto, no more babbling.

“We’re not thinking about that right now,” he whispered. “Right now, I’m going to relish the fact that you married me and we’re going to sleep.”

She can’t stop thinking about it yet. “They’re going to hate us, Oliver. We’re going to lose them if they figure out what we’re doing.” This kind of background search… she’d have quit the team over it if she was in their shoes. Of course, she had had a background search done on her long before Oliver hauled his bleeding self into her car, but that was different. She wasn’t on the team yet. These three—they’re family.

“We might.” Oliver raised himself up to hover over her a little. “And I know that if it happens I’ll regret it. But right now I need to protect you and William. You two come first.” He kissed her again, softer and slower. Felicity felt her brain slowly reduced to mush and, finally, the whole problem was put on the backburner where it belonged. He pulled away just as slowly and they stared into each other’s eyes for a bit. They were allowed. Married and all.

Oliver stretched over her and grabbed a tissue from her side table. “What are you doing?” Her simple question was quickly answered when he started gently rubbing at her arm, where the soulmark was. Felicity smiled as the words came into view. She sat up once he was done and unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor, revealing her own name on his skin. She turned so that he could unzip her and she tossed the wedding dress to the floor next to his shirt, cuddling back into him the moment she was free.

It was really cool how both of them had died and come back and cheated the whole your partner must die in order for you to see their mark thing. Weird, but cool. She kissed the line of letters and he smiled, a faint phantom of pain entering his eyes. She remembered his face from the hospital when she woke up, and she couldn’t help wishing that those two words weren’t on his forearm. Even though it was really pretty cool.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” he asked. Rather random. Okay.

“I think I was there, I remember,” she said, a bit confused. “You pretended an assaulted laptop had had a run-in with a latte. Which was a lie. I wasn’t very savvy with the bullet holes yet, but that was no latte.”

Oliver smiled, pulling her back down to lie halfway on top of him. “No, you didn’t see me the first time.”

“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.”

“Maseo and I were in Starling, looking for Chien Na Wei. She was going to be selling half of the bio weapon in Starling City, of all places. Amanda Waller sent me home.” She stared down at him in no small amount of shock. He’d come home without letting his mother, Thea, and Tommy know he was alive? She couldn’t imagine that amount of self-control.

“When did you see me?” was the appropriate next question.

His smile was soft, so fond and happy. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling back. “I was in my mom’s office, since it had the computers for the job, and I stalled because I found the video my dad left for me.” He had told her about that, the video that told him to follow the list. “And you came in Mom’s office.”

Felicity suddenly remembered that night, when she went in to return some files to Moira’s desk. She pushed herself up slightly, putting some distance between them so she could see his face clearly. “You heard me talking to your picture.”

“I’d seen Thea and Tommy earlier in the day, watched them as Thea’s life began to crash down around her and Tommy tried to save her. I’d followed them around a bit, but they weren’t really happy. You were a light among all the darkness I’d seen in the past two years. Beautiful,” he breathed. His eyes shone.

“And I called you cute, that couldn’t have hurt,” she said drily. “Please don’t go back to the shaving thing, though. It’s better this way.” She scratched her fingernails through his scruff lightly and he made that purring sound she loved so much.

He got back on topic. “You talked to the picture of me, wished I wasn’t dead—”

“The words had shown up like a year before that! Of course I wished you weren’t dead even though I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like you at all!”

Oliver settled deeper into the pillows and pulled her back down. “You wouldn’t have, I don’t think. Really, the accidental international trip was good for my character.” He brushed his fingers back across his name on her skin, caressing her arm. “Although I wish I’d seen this then.”

“What would you have done?” she whispered.

“Amanda threatened to kill Akio, Maseo and Tatsu’s son, if I disappeared. So I would have gone back to Hong Kong and seen the mission out. But the moment I could have, I would’ve come back. Not just for Thea and Mom and Tommy and Laurel.” He kissed the side of her head, lingered.

Felicity grinned into his chest. “You would have come back for me?” She couldn’t stop it from being a question. He’d still loved Laurel at the time, and the losses of Shado and Sara would have still been fresh. She wasn’t that kind of epic love, just the boring destined kind of soulmate.

“Nothing could have kept me from you. Even with everything else going on, whatever else happened, I would have come for you.” No matter what was unspoken, but she heard it anyway.

She moved so that she could see his face. There was determination, seriousness, sincerity in his eyes. A look that the island had given him. But there was something else—love. She saw it in his eyes, chasing away the demons. His mouth was tipped up at the very corners, smiling in that real way she loved so much. God, she loved him so much. Every part of him.

She felt him tense, the muscle beneath her head rippling slightly. He didn’t stop running his fingers through her hair, though, so she figured the same thing was running through his head.

He took a deep breath, and she could feel him pulling away, just a little. Nope, not tonight, she wasn’t going to let him hide. She had decided that they would talk, much as neither of them would enjoy the conversation. “Tell me,” she murmured. It wasn’t quite a demand, more like a very calm request for honesty. That was what she’d call it if she had to define it.

“Adrian Chase.”

He lapsed back into silence as she shivered. Of all images for his mind to choose—then she heard the but that’s not all his tone didn’t mean to add. “What else, Oliver?”

He took another deep breath. “Diaz, for a minute. Raisa. But mostly you. I saw you, in the bunker.” Felicity tucked herself a little closer, hoping beyond all logical hope that Oliver would continue talking without prompting. Thankfully, he did. “You stood there, knowing exactly what I’d done and who I was. Like always. But I asked how William was, and you said he wouldn’t leave his room.” His voice cracked, shattered along a fault line of despair. “That he’d finally seen what kind of man his father was.”

Felicity felt her heart twist. “Oliver—”

“You said we needed to take some space, because I wasn’t the man you married.”

Felicity leaned up on her elbow to stare at him. His right hand tightened on her left, not letting go, almost squeezing too tightly. The room was dark, except for the light coming from the crack under the door. It was just enough light to see the sparkle of tears in his eyes. He ran his thumb over her ring, caressing it, and a terrible thought occurred to her. “Was I wearing my ring? The hallucination, I mean.”

He shook his head slowly. “Vertigo is very thorough, and I have an imagination.” And that was answer enough.

Felicity didn’t really know what to say. “That’s why you said I left. The hallucination. Your brain told you I was going to leave you.”

“I didn’t know if it was real, Felicity. I knew after a while that Adrian wasn’t real, but I thought you… maybe you had been. It made sense, I deserved what you said, and—”

“You did not—”

His voice was emotionless. “I scared William. You told me to go. I deserved every word.”

“I was confused and a little angry, I had to calm William down, and you were a bit off the rails. Can you blame me for that one?”

He shook his head slowly. “I was out of line, and I knew it. But it didn’t help when you—the hallucination, whatever—appeared half an hour later saying you wanted to get a separation. So I went a bit…”

Felicity tried to smile. “Crazy? Insane? Trying to get Diaz with no back-up and with basically brainwashed police in the way? Speaking of which, we’re going to talk about the whole firing-Overwatch thing—”

“Thank you, by the way, for saving me there.” He finally met her eyes again as he deftly ignored the prompt, and there was a tiny bit of relief, maybe a smile, in his eyes again.

“You’re my husband,” she replied simply, stroking his jaw for a second. “There was no choice to make.”

They were quiet for a moment. Felicity still didn’t really know what to say—what do you say to your husband who’s just spent the day under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug that led to poor decisions and an even more destroyed self-esteem? And if he wasn’t going to talk about the fact that he’d basically put her out of a job—

“With all of this, though, I realized something.” He tilted his head and stared up at her like he was memorizing her face again.

“What?” Her elbow was suddenly tired of holding her up and Oliver’s arm was looking really inviting. She cuddled back into his side and he pulled her closer. He still didn’t let go of her left hand.

“Adrian reminded me of all of my worst insecurities, tried to get me to kill him and then acted as the devil on my shoulder for a few hours after I did kill him, even once I realized he wasn’t real.” That was a messed up sentence, and Felicity was almost concerned about the fact that she understood it. “Diaz was in the apartment, and he told me, again, that I wasn’t enough for this city and you and William. Both of them stabbed me, by the way, Adrian and Diaz.”

“I need to have someone look into the components of Vertigo, see why the hallucinations get that vivid—”

“But you were the first one, the first hallucination. The fake you showed me, again, that I can’t lose you. It destroyed me. I have to keep you safe, you and William. No matter what Adrian said, everything about failing to save everyone and enjoying killing and everything else, losing you and William scares me the most.” He turned his head into her hair and murmured, “I have to keep you out of the darkness.”

“So that’s why I’m fired?”

“You’re not fired—” Defense made his voice go up half an octave and his arms tense around her a bit more. She started again.

“So that’s why you’re doing this alone, then. Because—”

“I cannot lose you, Felicity,” he repeated, his voice cracking. “I can’t. Adrian tortured me for six days last year to get me to admit my worst fears. Slade Wilson, the Bratva, Damien Darhk—all of that pain would be nothing to losing you. Please let me protect you.”

Her heart was breaking again at his desperation. Her whole chest was starting to hurt. “How is being Felicity Smoak-Queen instead of Overwatch going to protect me? I can do so much more as Overwatch, Oliver.”

“I don’t even know if it will,” he said dully. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has been hurt. You’ve been hurt more times than I can count. Even William. But if you’re not speaking in my ear every night and I’m not acting with anyone’s help, maybe they’ll think I’m alone. That I don’t have anyone they could go after.”

He pulled away a little, just enough to meet her eyes again. Please please please, the tears in his eyes and the tension in his jaw read. Please, please let me do this.

And that’s when Felicity decided something. She would never stop watching out for him. She would always keep tabs on the trackers she’d put in his shoes, his bow, everywhere she could think of. But she would give him this. She would let her husband go out alone every day and night, to keep his mind at rest. For now. Until Adrian Chase’s words left his mind.

“Okay,” she whispered, one of her own tears escaping. Oliver was visibly relieved, at least a third of the tension in his shoulders melting away. He leaned forward and kissed her quickly. “One thing,” she said before he could thank her or anything like that. “Every day, every night, you’ll remember something.”

“Anything.”

“You said earlier tonight that William has me, in case something happens. He always has me, he’ll never be alone, I promise. And I have him, and that means so much to me. But you will not forget, Oliver Queen, that we need you too. And you will always come home to us.” She pressed a finger over his mouth to stop his reassurance. “I told William once that there’s no guarantee you’ll always come home, but you’ll do your best, and we have to believe in you. And I do, for him and for me. So help me keep that promise, and remember that if you do a single stupid thing, I’m coming back. Overwatch is coming back.”

“Felicity—”

“I need you too.” She held back another tear. “So promise me.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. He pulled her hand up and kissed her knuckles, lingering. “I do.”

The next day, Oliver Queen smelled like strawberry-vanilla body wash. They woke up late, but there was nowhere to go. They stayed in bed too long, kissing and talking about nothing and hoping William didn’t burn breakfast.

When they got to the kitchen at last, William turned around from the stovetop and sniffed, wrinkling his nose, when Oliver stepped up behind him to check on the scrambled eggs. Felicity leaned on the back of the couch, watching her boys banter about the quality of the eggs and the weirdness of smelling like a girl all day.

It would kill her every night, knowing that Oliver going out alone. She’d watch her tablet for hours in between William’s homework and Helix. She would protect him, however she could.

Oliver turned to look at her, the sparkle in his eye fading for a moment. Felicity stepped forward to stand with them, kissing Oliver’s cheek before pushing him forward to take William’s place at the stove. William laughed and Oliver pretended to pout as Felicity pulled William toward the TV and whatever video game he wanted to play.

As quickly as she’d fallen into the couch, she sprang back up. Roy could work. There wasn’t a spark of romance between them but it would be entertaining enough to fake it for one night.

And John and Lyla cared just enough about her romantic life that they’d be happy she brought a date to their little party but not too concerned when she announced to John in a week or so that they’d broken up. And his girlfriend seemed pretty chill, from what Roy had said. She’d probably be okay with this.

Felicity gathered her keys and phone and purse and was skipping out the door when she remembered that it was January. And it was cold. She was lying on the ground in front of her porch when she remembered that cold sometimes meant ice. Ice usually meant sliding. Sliding sometimes meant falling down off a porch and breaking a bone. Which she had done, based on the agony in her right arm.

“Are you okay?” Her heart sank further than the fall had already taken it. That was the Hot Neighbor.

“Yeah, I’m good—” The Hot Neighbor vaulted the fence between their tiny yards and jogged over. He was helping her sit up before she’d fully acknowledged that he was standing above her. “Okay then.” Hot Neighbor was also Nice Neighbor.

They both looked down at her arm and the completely wrong angle at which it was hanging. Felicity blinked back the tears of pain. “You’re not okay, and unless you know someone who lives nearby and could drive you, I’ll lock up and drive you to the hospital.”

Felicity sighed, the sound somewhat shaking, and shook her head. The Hot Neighbor stood back up and ran back over to his house, the jump over the fence doing wonders to his back muscles—was his shirt even really a shirt, or just an undershirt?—and sprinted back with a towel. “Here, can you stand? I have enough medical knowledge to make a sling.”

Felicity stood up, the world spinning just a little, and let the Hot Neighbor—blue eyes—tie the towel around her chest to hold her arm still. “Thank you so much,” she said as they walked to her car. “What’s your name, anyway?” she asked once the agony of sitting down and buckling up was over.

“Oliver Queen,” he smiled as he tucked himself into the tiny front seat. Her car was too small for his legs and overall muscly-ness. “And you’re Felicity, right?”

“That’s me. Felicity Smoak.”

“How long have you lived here?” Oliver asked, whirling her car out of the driveway. It was kinda nice to have a name instead of Hot Neighbor, really.

Felicity settled back into the passenger seat for the ride. “Three years, almost. I started working at Palmer Tech four years ago and then left there to start Helix Dynamics—that’s my company, I started it with Curtis, you’ve probably seen him around the house—after a year. So I moved here since I was suddenly not getting much of an income.” Oliver smiled, hopefully at the rambling and not the acknowledgment that she was almost poor AF. “You’ve been out here how long? Longer than me, right?”

“Almost six years,” Oliver nodded. She hadn’t realized how close they really were to the hospital until they were pulling up. Although—she checked the speedometer—he’d been going twenty over the speed limit. Great. “I wanted somewhere different that wasn’t the middle of nowhere but was also quiet enough and boring enough that my mom wouldn’t want to visit too much.”

He pulled into a parking spot near the emergency room and jumped out of the car to help her out. They walked over to the waiting room with enough ease that Felicity was at least 80 percent sure that Oliver Queen had frequented the place rather often since he’d moved to the town.

“Felicity Smoak?” the receptionist called twenty minutes later. Felicity had spent the time trying not to cry and squeezing Oliver’s proffered hand whenever she moved more than a twitch. Oliver had divided the twenty minutes between looking skittish, ridiculously concerned, and oddly amused. “Dr. Diggle will see you in Room 3.”

“Frick,” she muttered as Oliver helped her up. Not only had she broken her arm falling off her porch and then been rescued by her Hot Neighbor, John Diggle was going to get to examine her. It was a good thing that Oliver wasn’t letting go of her other hand and that the call of pain meds was too strong. Otherwise she’d have taken her butt five cities over to avoid this.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Diggle—Felicity?” John looked up from his clipboard. “What did you do?”

Felicity mustered a smile that was probably faint and unconvincing. “Hi John, I fell off my porch because it’s icy, please do something and don’t say too much.” It’s the fact that she tried to smile that counted, right?

“Sure,” John said, stepping forward to undo the towel sling. His next words were addressed to Oliver, who was standing as a silent and ripped shadow behind her. “I’m John Diggle, friend of Felicity’s. And you are?”

“Oliver Queen, neighbor of Felicity’s.” And that was all he had to say, Felicity figured, since he immediately found himself holding her hand again while John checked her arm. If she was lucky, she didn’t break any of his fingers.

“Definitely broken,” John said after a minute of agony. “I’ll get you ready for x-rays, just to determine the extent of the break and how to set it on the first try. Is there any possibility of pregnancy?”

“No,” Felicity muttered. Hadn’t been in a very long time, thanks much, John. Her arm fricking hurt.

John glanced back and forth between her and Oliver. “Are you sure?”

Oliver let out a somewhat strangled cough. That was when she understood. “Oh god, John, no! Oliver’s just my neighbor. Who happened to see me fall off the porch and break myself. No relationship, no dating, no possibility of pregnancy whatsoever. Please leave.”

Instead of leaving immediately, John just looked disappointed. “Oh. I thought he was your date, the one you mentioned to Lyla for the party tonight. Sorry, Felicity.” And then he left Felicity to her misery.

“The doctor a friend of yours?” Oliver asked drily. She finally let go of his hand and he formed a fist carefully, making sure she hadn’t broken anything.

Felicity sighed. “Yeah. I used to work with his wife and now I babysit their daughter a few times a week. They go through occasional stages of being very interested in my love life and I guess they’re in one now.”

Oliver laughed. “I understand that. My sister’s doing the same now.” Felicity glanced up at him and realized, yet again, how attractive he was. “If he lets you go and you’re not too drugged up, I’ll go with you to the party tonight.”

All she could do for a moment was stare. Maybe John had given her the morphine already and she forgot? Unlikely. He was really hot, nice jawline. “What?”

He laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way she guessed was unfamiliar. “You’ve said at least twice that I was attractive, and I’ve thought the same of you too many times to say without it making me sound like a stalker, and you lied to the doctor’s wife about having a date.”

“When did I say you were attractive? I mean, duh, you are, but I don’t remember—” Ah, the rambling. How much of the rambling had been out loud? Probably all of it, with her mental state. Curse the rambling. “Sure, then,” Felicity surrendered, “come to the party and admire the baby with me. Because with the arm and the drugs on top of the general lack of social abilities it’ll be best if Sara and I just hang out for a while.”

“Awesome,” Oliver grinned.

And that’s how it all started.

“And that’s the story of how a broken arm may not end up so bad,” Felicity finished.

Livvy just stared for a minute until Felicity felt obligated to try to defend her story. But her middle child beat her to it. “So you’re saying that it’s okay that I broke my arm… because you met Dad when you broke yours?”

Her point was not completely grasped. Of course, it may not have been completely applicable, since Livvy was almost nine instead of twenty-six. “Yeah, that’s what I was going for,” she sighed.

“Seeing as we don’t have any good-looking neighbors near my age, I’m only eight, and I broke the arm falling out of a tree, I don’t think it really applies. But I did have a bet going with Jonathan about how you two met, and I won. So thanks for telling me!”

“You’re welcome, sweetie,” Felicity said, brushing her hand over Livvy’s cheek. At least she had been amusing. “Do you need any more Tylenol?”

“I’m okay for now,” Livvy beamed up at her. She kissed her daughter’s little cheek and pulled the blanket up to her chin, hoping she’d sleep despite the pain she was trying to hide.

“How is she?” Oliver whispered when she’d turned the light out and stepped out of the pink-infested bedroom.

Felicity stepped into his arms and sighed, finally letting go of the agony of watching her baby girl in pain all day. “Just like you, pretending that it doesn’t hurt at all. She only fell out of a pretty tall tree and broke a bone completely in half—”

Oliver silenced her with a kiss, a lovely trick he’d learned quickly in their relationship. “She’ll be okay, honey.” They stood in the hall for a few minutes, hoping they wouldn’t hear Jonathan playing video games, Livvy whimpering, or Abby making any sort of unexpected screech. William was still at work, so Felicity was really hoping she didn’t hear him. They’d been right to stop with four kids, she reflected absently. So very right.

“I wonder what kind of bet our middle children had going,” Oliver whispered into her hair.

Felicity froze. She’d forgotten Livvy’s pronouncement. “I have no idea…”

“Probably whether the way we met was overly sappy or not,” Oliver said. “And it was, completely the ridiculously cute movie kind of meeting.”

Felicity considered her husband and the situation for a second. “You’re right,” she muttered.

She didn’t even know how she felt about the whole thing yet. She was… sprawled across the bathroom floor with Walgreens bag next to her. That was a pretty good indication of her current peace of mind or lack thereof. Her brain was kind of spinning.

Felicity tried to sit up when she heard Oliver’s footsteps coming through the apartment. “Felicity?” he called. It wasn’t too panicked, so she’d probably be okay for a bit.

“In here,” she called, her voice slightly raspy from not having actually spoken out loud in something like two hours.

She wasn’t quite sitting up when Oliver stepped inside the bathroom. To his credit, he didn’t start yelling or anything. “Are you okay?” he asked with a bit of panic as he helped her sit up. “I got your text in the middle of a meeting and couldn’t reply. And before you ask, yes, I did worry.”

Felicity sighed. “I’m fine, I told you. The text was quite clear, I thought.” Then Oliver was reaching for a washcloth, and then he stood up to wet it in the sink. Felicity reached out toward the countertop, trying to somehow stop it, stop the inevitable, but there was nothing to be done. It was like those slow-motion scenes action movies were so fond of, and just like in the movies, it didn’t work.

Oliver’s eyes widened comically and he glanced down at her before slowly reaching for the little plastic stick. Felicity watched his eyes go back and forth across the lines—the extra pink line, in particular—as she stood up and felt the world spin around her for a moment. Before the world cleared, Oliver had his arm around her, steadying her.

“You’re pregnant?” he whispered, finally.

Felicity didn’t really know what to say, which was really a first in the life of Felicity Smoak-Queen. “Yes.” She felt that required a little more explanation. “I haven’t felt normal for a few weeks and I finally noticed that I was late this morning and then I threw up in the base and so I figured it out and went to get that and I’ve been sitting here since because I didn’t know what—”

And then she was pulled into a hug. Oliver buried his face in her neck and she could feel his grin against her skin. He pulled away almost as abruptly. “You’re really pregnant?” His eyes were shining, both with the force of his smile and the tears that were puddling in his eyes. And that was all she needed for that flash of joy she’d been waiting for.

She grinned up at him, wrapped her arms around his back. “Yeah, Oliver. Afraid so.” And before she could stop him, he kissed her. Then she forgot about all the problems she was considering and pulled him even closer.

He walked them over to their bed, not breaking the kiss, and she found herself down on her back with Oliver bracing himself above her. For once she was wearing a shirt and pants combo, so it wasn’t hard for him to push her shirt up and he leaned down and kissed her stomach gently.

Oliver smiled and crawled up the bed to lie down next to her. “How do you feel about it?” he asked, tucking an arm under his head and stroking her fingers with his other hand.

“Somehow, we’ve managed to not talk about all of this,” Felicity began, turning to face him. “I mean, we have William, but we didn’t talk about it before or since he appeared. And I haven’t really considered the whole kid thing in a while, like not since I was in college, and we’ve got the Green Arrow stuff and the team and everything with—” Then she recited her whole freak-out from before Oliver got home.

By the time she was done, Oliver was kissing her fingers. He looked up at her, blue eyes all serious and loving. “In a few days, I’m going to think about all of that and I will freak out. I’ll probably get ridiculously protective and I might wall up for a bit.”

“Obviously,” Felicity said. He wouldn’t be Oliver Queen if all of that didn’t happen. “There is a ‘but’, though, right? That would be useful. Seeing as if you keep on like that for another, what, eight months, I’ll be forced to arrow you.”

“But…” His voice went quiet and, dare she think, awed. “…we’re having a baby. That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard.” He grinned again, and she couldn’t help but smile back. It was so contagious, his joy and his smile. “You make me the happiest man on earth, Felicity Smoak.”

And that was too sweet; she didn’t stop herself from kissing him. He was beautiful when he was happy.

--

Two weeks later, Oliver’s prediction—and her complete belief in the matter—had come true. They were still happy, of course; nothing was going to stop that. And the fact that Oliver’s eyes had managed to become shining hearts whenever he looked at her or William, and he kissed her stomach every morning and night.

Then they’d gone to the doctor. The sound of the heartbeat filled the room, and Oliver’s eyes shone. They stared at the infuriatingly blurry picture of their kid. “It looks like a peanut,” Felicity said, trying not to go all gooey at the fact that there was a peanut growing in her stomach.

“It looks like you’re about seven weeks along,” the nurse gushed. “Everything looks good!” Then she said a lot more technical stuff that neither of them listened to because they were staring at the peanut and Felicity’s best friend was the internet.

They got home. They were ridiculously, completely, deliriously happy. That lasted two and a half days. Then the overprotectiveness began.

Oliver first tried to prevent her from going down to the base. She acquiesced at first, since the panic in Oliver’s eyes was a little bit contagious and she was still working on nausea treatment. Then she got restless and, when the Villain of the Week eluded Oliver and John for the fourth day in a row since they couldn’t figure out her technology, she earned her re-admittance to the Arrow cave.

John stared at her for a few minutes down in the lair as she settled back into her wonderful chair. Oliver was standing pretty close by, within reach but not so close that they were running into each other, a la two days ago. Felicity was watching the screens, going back and forth between the searches and John Diggle’s face.

Finally, John understood, a grin slowly forming on his face. “You’re pregnant!” he had almost shouted. After the obligatory “how did you find out?” and “why didn’t you tell me?” and threatening from Oliver and hugs and handshakes all around, they sat down to have a proper chat while waiting for the search to finish. “How long?” Digg asked.

“About two months,” Felicity answered. “The nurse was scary enough that I didn’t want to tell anyone for a while.”

“They’ll do that,” John grinned, remembering the same stage with JJ. Although, with JJ, John had taken even longer to tell them, Felicity reflected. One point for Olicity, then. He then clapped Oliver on the back. “How are you holding up?”

Oliver flinched and made a noncommittal noise, showing both best friend and wife exactly how well he wasn’t handling the whole thing at the moment. “He was fine at first, more than fine, great, actually, but over the past four days he’s become a protective monster of a baby daddy,” Felicity explained fondly.

John looked at Oliver almost as fondly. “He would do that, wouldn’t he.”

“He couldn’t help it,” Felicity cooed, forgetting yesterday when she’d yelled at him for not letting her handle the toaster. It was a toaster. It would not attack anyone. The fact that she regularly burned herself with it was entirely besides the point.

Oliver then stalked away, ripping his shirt off along the way, heading for the salmon ladder. After the initial and very brief surprise of his abrupt stripping, Felicity and Diggle had returned to the computers, talking about the plans for Baby Queen around the clangs of Oliver’s stress.

It was expected, at least, Felicity mused as she found Bad Guy of the Week and sent her boys out to capture him. And—she remembered the way his back muscles had rippled earlier as he ascended and descended the salmon ladder over and over—the stripping was welcome, anyway. “Honestly, everyone’s taking the idea of your existence really well,” she whispered to her stomach.

She wondered if it was a boy or girl, all of a sudden. And if it would be better at computers or salmon ladders. Then she realized she was talking to her stomach. Which would have been okay if the baby could hear her, but since it was the size of a grape, it wasn’t even close to auditory skills. Not much point yet. She shook her head and directed John down the next road, letting the chase regain her attention.

--

“We have to tell William,” Felicity murmured a week later as they were taking a rare ten minutes to watch an adventure story that wasn’t actually their life. “He’s going to find out eventually, he’s so smart, and I just don’t think it’ll be good for him to figure it out on his own.”

“True,” Oliver murmured back. He’d taken to lying across her lap and cuddling as closely as possible whenever they sat down for more than five minutes, and he was almost asleep as a result. “I wouldn’t have figured out at his age, though…” He zoned out as Hawkeye shot another alien and Felicity tried to think of a way to say “You’re my husband and I love you but your son is way smarter than you” without offending him. “But he is way smarter than me, so he probably will,” Oliver finished the sentence, much to her relief.

Felicity ran her fingers through his hair and added haircuts all around to her checklist. William’s was almost in his eyes, and Oliver’s was going to be really close to attack-paparazzi Oliver in a week or two. That wasn’t a look any of them were actually interested in.

“Are you pregnant?” William’s voice came from behind. Oliver jumped, returning to a sitting position without Felicity seeing him move. She turned around to face the boy, her heart trying to keep up with the adrenaline and racing brain. “Sorry to interrupt. I just thought I heard…” He took one step backwards, trying to escape to his room.

Oliver glanced down at her and called his son back. “We should explain—”

“Yes, I’m pregnant,” Felicity blurted out. Thankfully, William stepped over to the couch so she didn’t have to crane her neck too awkwardly.

Then all three of them stared. Despite the progress made over the months of Three Queens, they hadn’t gotten really good at the family talks yet. Although—did anyone really get good at those? They were hard and awkward and annoying. “How long?” William asked.

“Two months and a week and a half, about. We’ve known for about two weeks,” Felicity quickly said. The kid probably wanted information quickly to make up for what he didn’t know, right? She could basically see the thoughts racing through William’s head.

Then just as quickly as the surprise had formed on William’s face, a smile broke across it. “That’s really cool,” he said. “Is it a boy or girl?”

“It’s like two or three months until that appointment,” Felicity said, watching as William’s face finally walled over. Her heart sank at the rapid (and basically expected) progression of William’s emotions. “But you’ll be the first to know!” At least now she would be able to say she tried to save the situation.

“That’ll probably be the ultrasound technician, really,” William said, that hint of whimsy she so loved in his voice. Maybe this wouldn’t be completely awful. Then she watched all her hopes dash away on some kind of magic flying creature as William gave another celebratory grin, stepped back into the door frame, and just about ran away.

“William?” Oliver called. He tried to get up but Felicity pressed lightly down on his chest and shook her head. Oliver searched her eyes for a moment and read the let him go she was projecting. “What do we do?” he whispered.

“I don’t know, but for now he needs to be alone. He just found out he’s getting a baby sibling and he’s almost a teenager and he’s William Clayton Queen and there’s only so much more attention he can stand because you know how almost everyone at school treats him anyway and now look at this, he'll be close to the center of attention again, and—” Felicity felt her brain switch back onto the crazy track but it was quickly derailed by Oliver gently grabbing her chin and pulling her head up to look at him.

“He’ll be okay, Felicity. Like you said. It’ll be okay.”

--

“William?” Felicity heard Oliver calling just as she started smelling the pancakes. She took a moment to consider getting out of bed, and thankfully, Queen Child No. 2 liked the pancakes and didn’t immediately cause nausea. So she got out of bed and wandered toward the pancakes and husband and son.

Oliver’s hair was wild when she found him in the kitchen. “He’s not in his room, Felicity. I don’t know where he is. There’s a pile of blankets in his bed and—”

William was missing. Felicity felt the room basically flip upside down and found herself in Oliver’s arms a moment later. “I’m good, I’m good, I'm fine." She batted the wild-eyed Oliver away and stepped toward her tablet. “I’ll check the—”

Oliver was yanking on a hoodie and tennis shoes before she could finish her sentence. “I’m going now, I texted Digg and he’s going to the base to check the traffic cameras. I’m going to go—somewhere.” And Oliver kissed her on the forehead and exited the apartment.

“He couldn’t even wait for me to check the security footage,” Felicity grumbled, fingers flying on the screen. Her heart was about to beat itself out of her chest—the memories of Adrian Chase were never pleasant and they were returning in full-force—but the cameras in the apartment and building finally cooperated. “Your dad’s great, kid, but he’s an idiot sometimes when it comes to the people he loves,” she muttered. “So dramatic.”

As she yanked her own shoes and robe on, she watched William step out of the apartment and wander out of the building at 5:14 AM. It was a miracle Oliver hadn’t heard the door, honestly. He then meandered down the street, clutching his blue blanket around himself like a cloak. She locked the apartment door as she kept watching the footage, switching from camera to camera along the streets. She followed William’s path as quickly as she could, her heart rate slowing down when she figured out his destination.

“Hey, kid,” Felicity said as she sat down on the swing next to William.

William kept staring at the rest of the playground equipment. “Hi Felicity,” he replied quietly. “How did you find me before Dad?”

“You did a good job being unpredictable, where you walked and where you were going. And your dad didn’t wait for me to bring the cameras up before he and John ran out looking.”

William chuckled soundlessly. “Just like him,” he murmured.

They sat in silence for a minute, Felicity dragging her shoes on the pine chips. Her mind was racing and trying to figure out anything to say that wouldn’t sound completely cliché. It was going to sound cliché whatever happened, honestly.

Thankfully, William started first. “I’m not upset about the baby,” he said, looking up at her with those eyes so like Oliver’s. “I just… I don’t know.”

Felicity tried for humor to fill the silence. “That’s something, at least, that you don’t hate your sibling.”

“I know you’re not replacing me or anything.” William ignored the humor, as well he should. “I wasn’t expecting it at all, though. Should have expected it, you and Dad are married and love each other and you’ve got everything except—”

“If you say that we’ve got everything except a kid…” William glanced back up at her, his eyes looking wounded. Oh, frick. That was what he was thinking. Felicity jumped off of the swing and knelt down in front of William as well as she could without him absolutely towering over her. “We have a kid, William. You.”

“Yeah, but I’m not yours. Not like the baby will be.”

Felicity’s heart pretty much broke. Completely in half. “I know I’m not your biological mother, Will. I’m not trying to be, I’ll never try to replace your mother, I could never do that. I know too much about losing a parent to ever try that. But I’ve never thought of you as anything less than my son.”

William’s eyes were now shining. She reached up and grabbed his hand, partially for the physical contact and partially for stability. Thankfully, he held on as tightly as she was. “Even when your dad and I were just talking about getting back together, or when we were dating for those weeks before we got married, I’ve sort of thought of you as my kid too. You’ve always been enough for me and your dad. Remember when you found out your dad was still running around in green?”

“I said I wasn’t as worried about losing him, since I had you. After you let me watch him arrow people.”

Felicity managed a smile. That was not one of her better moments. Then she returned to the important topic. “You’ve always had me, William. Whether it was for math tutoring or taking care of you if your dad doesn’t make it home one night.” William just stared for a moment. Felicity scanned his face and decided it was time for the best truth of the morning. “Your dad and I, we love you more than anything. You’re the best kid I’ve ever met, and, if you’re willing, you’re going to be the best big brother in the world. Which is how we should have told you, incidentally, instead of you being too smart for your own good.”

They stared at each other for another minute, Felicity watching everything process in William’s eyes. Finally, William nodded. Felicity stood up, her quads blessing the movement, and William jumped out of the swing into her arms. They stood there in the playground, just the two of them, and Felicity hugged her son.

“Thanks, Felicity,” William whispered. “Love you.”

Felicity felt her eyes fill up. “I love you too, William.”

And that was how Oliver found them, a few minutes later. Felicity heard his footsteps coming closer, but she couldn’t do anything more than turn her head to face him. As he got closer, Felicity could see the alarm in his eyes slowly fade away and, by the time he wrapped his arms around them and rested his forehead on William’s head, Oliver was smiling.

“Love you, Dad,” William murmured.

“Love you too, William,” Oliver answered.

They would be okay, Felicity thought as they turned back toward the apartment and breakfast. William would be okay, even if he was late for school again.

--

“What’s his name?” William asked, cradling his baby brother. Felicity had been taking pictures of them for half an hour. It was just too precious.

The baby had been born three hours ago. Oliver and Felicity had kept one hour of it to themselves, just staring at their kid and figuring out the name. After that blessed hour, William and Digg and Lyla had swarmed them, all three wanting to hold the littlest Queen. Naturally and without much argument from the adults, William had won the hold-the-baby battle. Oliver had shifted his littler son into his firstborn’s arms and gotten into the bed with Felicity.

Oliver glanced at Felicity, giving her the reins. Felicity smiled as Oliver pulled her a little closer and kissed the side of her head. “Jonathan Thomas Queen,” she told him. “Thomas for Tommy, of course. Jonathan…”

“Oliver Jonas Queen,” John said thoughtfully. “Kinda similar.”

Felicity nodded toward Digg and immediately regretted movement. The very nice drugs were officially wearing off. “That was my thought, yeah. Kind of clever, right? But also… Jonathan and David, in the Bible.”

“Brothers,” Oliver summed it up, looking at William with the softest gaze Felicity had ever seen in his blue eyes. She loved him all the more for that look. “Even with all of their problems, they still had each other. So we named him Jonathan for you, William. You and him.”

William smiled and looked back down at the baby. “Jonathan, huh,” he murmured. “He’s pretty great.”

Felicity looked around at the room. Oliver, sitting next to her with all of the love in the world in his eyes. John and Lyla, arms around each other and persevering despite the odds. William, their first child, looking down at his little brother with awe. Jonathan, blue eyes staring up at his big brother sleepily but his little hands wriggling with contentment. All of the happiness surrounding her was completely unexpected, but it was beautiful.