birdseed and apologies (TFLN continuation for smoakonthewater)

[tallmurderpuppy]

No, see he understands the limitations of his vision, but he's going to just find the best recipe of each of the most preferred dishes. And then sort by that. It'll be great. Revolutionize grocery shopping for the average man--or the ex billionaire who suddenly doesn't have someone who does that for him. He understands stores, he's not an idiot, it was just the sudden experience of an incredibly large grocery store with roughly seventy choices for every single ingredient he needed.

You didn't tell Diggle about that, did you?

Oliver sighs and takes another drink of his coffee, wide hands wrapping around the body of the mug as he looks over at her. "It's everywhere, Felicity. He could have at least localized on the hood--" He didn't. There is birdseed in every square inch of that car.

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[smoakonthewater]

How about instead of an entire grocery store laid out in this absurd fashion, maybe a smaller convenience store aimed at the somewhat-limited ex-billionaire demographic? Meal bags can come pre-packaged for each recipe with detailed instructions on how to prepare it. (Including how to turn on the oven and basic stove safety.)

Felicity absolutely told Diggle. They don't laugh at you behind your back as much as exchange stories of the times Oliver Queen shows a brief flash of his Ivory Tower upbringing. It's sweet, really. A glimpse of the man he used to be and how far he's come.

"This," Felicity says, raising her eyebrows at him over the rim of her own mug, "is the worst apology I have gotten in my life." She smiles before she takes a slow sip of coffee that stopped being good about ten minutes ago when the last of the heat fled.

"Sounds like maybe you didn't come here to apologize," she points out, leaning back in the sofa and tucking her feet up under herself. "Sounds like maybe you just want to complain more about your fully-deserved car bird seed."

[tallmurderpuppy]

Ironically, he can navigate a Hong Kong market to secure the things he needs better than he can an American grocery store. He can shoot and kill birds and cook them to survive. He can forage for things that won't kill him on Lian Yu, but give him a grocery store and he's not exactly sure how to even begin.

At least now he knows how to do laundry, even though his mother about had a heart attack the first time he came down the stairs with a laundry basket in hand and started poking in rooms because he realized he wasn't exactly sure where they kept their washer and dryer--

But he's glad he can provide you and Diggle amusement. Diggle laughed for weeks about the birthday cake fiasco, so, he lives to serve, he supposes.

He sighs, and sets down his coffee, looking at her fully. He splays his hands out in front of him, palms up, open. "Felicity Megan Smoak, I'm sorry for recklessly using one of your expertly constructed computers that you spent a year getting perfect to test one of my EMP arrows, thereby completely frying it. It was selfish and I was wrong."

[smoakonthewater]

Oliver Queen is such a study in contradictions. Some days it's frustrating. Some days it's fascinating. Some days it catches at Felicity's heart all wrong and leaves her breathless for the rest of the day.

The birthday cake wasn't a fiasco. It was very sweet, in that aching kind of way that just lingers for weeks after. Felicity still finds herself, on some sleepless nights, staring up at her dark ceiling and remembering the slightly lopsided cake sitting in front of her keyboard, frosting slowly melting. It never helps her sleep, but it makes her heart twist in the sweetest of ways and her whole body ache with want of what she can't have.

Oliver Queen's full attention is a glorious and dangerous thing. Felicity's lungs twist up in themselves and there's a moment where she forgets to breathe. If it wasn't an automatic reflex, she may pass out right then and there for the lack of air. Her tongue flicks out and touches her upper lip and she swallows tightly. This is entirely unfair. How can she stay mad at him when he apologizes like that?

"Oliver Jonas Queen," she manages, as breathless as if they're both standing on the edge of a cliff, exchanging vows. (Okay, mixed metaphors there. But that's what it feels like). "I forgive you."