A/N: So guys, this is the chapter you all have been waiting for. The finale. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do (or if you don't) please leave some feedback! Quick note - Moira is not dead here.

Chapter Thirteen

Oliver knew Felicity was the one about one week into actually dating. It took Felicity a little longer. It's not that she couldn't picture a life with him. She could. She could picture them in some nice suburban house with a white picket fence and three blonde children running around the backyard. She'd actually pictured it an embarrassing number of times over the months, but part of it always felt removed to her, like she was watching another life – a life with a different her and a different Oliver, and a different reality that didn't involve vigilantes and exploding arrows. Part of her always believed that she couldn't have both – the normal life with the foundry life.

But then one day she realized that maybe she didn't need both. Maybe they were really the same thing, and all she had to do was open her eyes and stop waiting for some idyllic perfect white-picket-life, when the one she had was pretty great. And one day she did. Her and Oliver were on their way to the foundry, Oliver at the wheel of his expensive sports car prattling on about nothing in particular. She loved how they held entire conversations about nothing. It's like they just liked the sound of each other's voice. Which was sort of true. She liked the way he said her name and how his voice would go up just a little at the end of questions.

As he talked – not really to her, more at her, he'd picked up a touch of her circuitous talking when they started dating – she studied his profile, warmth blooming in her chest. She was familiar with his profile, having woken up to it for the better part of the last six months. It was her favorite part of the morning, and when she fell asleep at night with her arm draped over his waist, it was her favorite part of the evening. He was her favorite part of everything – even the parts of him that she hadn't always liked – and she couldn't pinpoint exactly when that happened, but it had. She murmured his name without really thinking.

He glanced over at her. "Yeah?"

"Will you marry me?"

He nearly crashed into the car in front of him, braking just in time. Knuckles white on the steering wheel, he said, "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I'm very serious."

"You're asking me to marry you while I'm driving?"

"It seemed like a good enough time," she reasoned, heart slamming against her chest. It wasn't that she was afraid he'd say no. That wasn't even on her mind. Her heart was racing because she'd finally let herself believe, and she was imagining their life together – a life as man and wife – and she could hardly catch her breath.

"You're really serious about this?" he asked again, pressing on the gas and hightailing it to the parking lot across from Verdant. She waited until he parked to respond.

"I never really thought I'd get married. My parents weren't exactly a shining example of matrimony, and then with what I do – what we do. I figured it wasn't for us, but then I thought why not? I love you. You love me. It seems like we have the most important parts of a marriage."

He grinned wide and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. She didn't know if she was technically kissing her fiancée yet, but she thought to herself that this was probably one situation where it was safe to jump the gun a bit. She threaded her fingers through his hair, stomach twisting as she repeated in her head, fiancé, fiancé, fiancé.

She liked the sound of that.

After a moment he pulled away and reached into the pocket of his suit jacket. Her eyes widened when he pulled out a ring box. Hands trembling she reached forward, fingers curling around the velvet box.

"Oliver," she murmured.

"I've been carrying this around with me for weeks," he said softly. "I was waiting for the right moment, but you beat me to it."

"Are you serious?" she said, echoing what he said earlier. He nodded, grinning slightly, and returned with, "I'm very serious."

He let her take the ring box and watched as she flipped it open. Nestled inside was the most perfect engagement ring she had ever seen. It was a simple ring – one cushion cut diamond surrounded by a delicate row of smaller stones. The band was lined with diamonds as well, making her wonder just how much of a small fortune she'd be wearing on her finger.

"Do you like it?"

She nodded emphatically and said, "Put it on!"

He laughed, lifting the ring from the box. He paused for a moment before asking, "Felicity, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she said, stomach fluttering as he slid the ring on her finger. She didn't even take a moment to admire it before wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face to the crook of his neck as she murmured, "Yes, yes, yes."

And so, they were engaged. The next few days were spent spreading the news to their closest friends, John Diggle being the first to learn as he'd caught them directly afterwards in the foundry. He'd barely been able to get a meager hello out before Felicity had yelled that her and Oliver were engaged. Her loud voice reverberating around the cavernous room, he'd winced before he congratulated them. The remaining announcements were less bombastic, save for Lydia's phone call where the red head responded with such fervor that Oliver was sure his eardrums would never recover.

Things settled down for what felt like a minute before the wedding plans began. Felicity had been excited for the wedding planning. She wasn't really one of those girly-girls growing up, plotting out her wedding gown with excruciating detail. Her mom had always railed against marriage, soured by the failed venture with her father, and she tended to gravitate toward friends who were more interested in the classics than wedding dresses and tablescapes.

Still, she'd thought about it now and then over the years. It was little things – like how there would be a candy table at the reception and she refused to go strapless because she didn't like her shoulders. She was certain that when the time came she would find herself thrown completely into the planning – and she was, except it was nothing like she expected.

For starters, she wasn't good at it. She couldn't tell the difference between egg shell and ivory, and when Moira asked her what her preference was for cake she'd blanked and blurted out, "Edible?"

Every moment was torture as she tried to force herself to have more of an opinion – more of a bridal feeling – but came up short. All of the plans and minute details that didn't seem to make a bit of difference to her in the long run didn't click with her, and even more than that she just didn't like it. Increasingly she felt herself pulled toward a lavish spectacle that she could barely imagine attending – let alone being the center of – and while she didn't necessarily dislike what Moira suggested, it wasn't her.

"Tell that bitch to back off. She had, what, two weddings? She's had enough chances to wear the veil. It's your turn."

Felicity was having yet another conversation with Lydia where she vented her frustrations about the wedding planning and how she felt it was spiraling out of control. She appreciated her friend's support, but sometimes Lydia tended to vilify Moira a bit too much. Felicity secretly thought it was because Moira had assumed the role Lydia hoped she would play herself in the planning. Having witnessed many parties and events with Lydia at the helm, she had no doubt Lydia would have been just as bad, if not worse.

"I don't think she means to be overbearing," Felicity said. "And she's not even. Not really. I mean, someone has to decide what tablecloths we're going to use. You should see me at all the appointments. I'm useless."

"It can't be that bad."

"It is. I don't have an opinion on anything. It's just…none of it really matters to me. All I want is to marry someone I love, and I have that. The rest of it is just…fluff."

"Fluff?" Felicity could hear the smirk in Lydia's voice.

"Yes, fluff. Speaking of fluff-"

"This can only be bad."

Felicity smirked. "I went in for another dress fitting today."


Felicity sat down heavily on the couch, thinking back to that afternoon when her, Moira, and Thea had gone to one of Starling City's chicest wedding shoppes for her dress fitting. She'd chosen the dress about a month prior, answering the question if she had found her dress with an uncertain nod as Moira and Thea nodded fervently, Thea actually clapping appreciatively as she murmured, "Fair warning, I am stealing this dress for my wedding."

And it wasn't a bad dress. She could see why some people would like it with the fitted bodice and large full skirt with so much tulle that it probably would cushion a three or four story fall, but it wasn't her. That seemed to be the story of the wedding – it was nice, but not for her.

"I just want the wedding to be over."

"That's not how a bride should feel."

"It's how I feel."

"Well, why don't you say something? You usually never shut up."

Why didn't' she say something? She definitely wasn't one to hold her tongue and there certainly were things she wasn't entirely on board with for the wedding, but she figured it was best to play it calm. She had an entire life ahead of her with the Queen family. She would choose her battles, not suit up for every little one, and since she didn't care that much about the wedding itself, it seemed like a fine battle to pass up.

"Well, ten years from now when you look back and hate your wedding, don't complain to me."

A dry laugh escaped Felicity's mouth. "I won't."

That night Felicity and Oliver were curled up on her couch, watching a Jurassic Park marathon on AMC. A blanket was wrapped around them to shield them from her overzealous air conditioning. It was always either too warm or too cold in the townhome, and when Oliver had complained one night about the chill in the air she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she'd rather be cold than warm. When he joked that his nose was turning pink she told him to put on a sweater.

"I don't understand why Jeff Goldblum keeps going back to these Jurrasic Park islands," Oliver said. "I mean, you think almost getting killed by a dinosaur once would be enough."

"Well, he's there now to save his girlfriend," Felicity pointed out. "That's something I'd think you'd appreciate."

Oliver smirked. "You should know if you end up getting mixed up with some re-engineered dinosaurs, you're on your own."

"We're not even married yet and you're already pulling back," she teased lightly.

A raptor lunged at Jeff Goldblum on the screen, nearly killing him. He cried out, rolling out of the way and grabbing a tool nearby and slamming it into the raptor's head. He escaped the raptor, but not without a deep gash on his arm.

"You wouldn't have that injury if you just stayed home, Jeff," Oliver said. Felicity rested her head on his shoulder and murmured, "At least it wasn't his face."

Oliver smirked, glancing down at her. "You like his face, huh?"

"Oh yes," she said, nodding against his shoulder. She turned her face up toward his and noting the amusement on his face murmured, "What? I live a Jeff Goldblum appreciation life. You should know that if we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together."

Oliver grinned and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "I think I can live with that."

She snuggled against him, shifting her legs and pressing them against his. On the screen, Jeff Goldblum was chased yet again by some sort of dinosaur, and as they watched Oliver casually said, "So, Lydia called me today."

Felicity pulled away slightly. "She called you? What about?"

"We were just chatting."

"Since when do you two chat?" she accused lightly. "You usually actively avoid the phone when I try to hand it to you to say hello to her."

"That's because you always happened to do it when I was naked."

"I don't see the significance," she returned with a slight grin.

"The significance is that I don't want to talk to your friend when I am naked. It's weird and I'm pretty sure Lydia would know somehow."

Felicity snorted. "You're probably right. Anyway, why did she call you?"

"She told me that you're feeling a little smothered with the wedding planning," he began slowly. "That maybe my mother and Thea are being a bit overbearing."

"It's fine," she said automatically. After saying that for weeks she didn't even have to think before it came out. "They're planning a beautiful wedding."

"I'm sure they are," Oliver returned congenially. "But are you happy with it?"

"It's going to be a beautiful day," she said evenly. "The type of wedding girls grow up dreaming about. It's fine, really."

Oliver frowned. She was saying a lot of things, but not one of them was what he wanted to hear. He went to say something further but she'd pressed herself back to his side, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"I love you, you know," he murmured.

Her arm tightened around his waist. "I know."

"And I only want you to be happy."

She nodded against his shoulder. "I know. And right now watching Jeff Goldblum run would make me really happy."

He murmured okay and dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. He knew she wasn't being entirely truthful with the wedding talk, but he decided not to push her. When Felicity made her mind up about something she couldn't be swayed, and for some reason she'd made her mind up about being okay with the wedding. So, they watched Jeff Goldblum run, Oliver's mind whirring.

"You want to do what?" Felicity asked, staring incredulously at Oliver. He simply grinned in response, pulling a set of plane tickets from his pocket. All week he'd been secretive after they discussed Lydia's call, ducking out of rooms for phone calls, and now this?

"You can't be serious," she murmured. "I mean, really, you can't be serious. The Queen Consolidated leadership conference is this weekend. We can't go to Chicago."

"As the CEO of Queen Consolidated, yes we can. I made some calls and we shifted the conference to next month."

She stared at him. "You shifted a conference up an entire month for some impromptu trip to Chicago? Not to mention that we're getting married next month. Don't you think you'll be a little busy?"

He shrugged. "I'll manage. Now, let's get that bag of yours packed. The plane leaves in three hours."

"Three hours? What-"

"Come on, I'll help you pack," he said over his shoulder as he walked to the bedroom. He opened the closet and rifled through her clothes. After a moment he pulled out a tight bandeau dress she'd bought on a dare and said, "This should definitely come with us."

"I can barely fit that over my thigh," she huffed, pulling the dress from him and throwing it on the bed. "Can you just hold on for a minute and tell me what the hell is going on? Because this is crazy, even for you."

He stepped forward and palmed her waist. "There was a time when you trusted me above anyone else. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," she murmured.

He grinned softly and kissed the tip of her nose. "Then trust me now. I can't tell you why we're going to Chicago, but you will like it. I promise."

"I was supposed to have another dress fitting on Sunday," she returned softly, hands sliding up the side of his arms.

"Well, you'll just have to reschedule."

She gazed up at him. "You're really not going to tell me why we're going to Chicago?"

He shook his head with a grin. "Nope. It's more fun this way."

She figured it out on the drive to the airport. What was the purpose of taking this impromptu trip to Chicago where she was given absolutely no heads up or information as to what was happening or why? There was only one logical explanation: they were throwing her a surprise wedding shower.

They hadn't had the shower yet, after all, and what better surprise than to whisk her away to Chicago where it had all began? Yes, she'd figured it out, but she feigned complete ignorance the entire way, seeing how much Oliver was enjoying the surprise. She had the rest of their marriage to be right; she'd let him have this one.

Sure enough when they took a cab down to The Drake she found Lydia waiting for her in the lobby. She hugged her friend tightly and Lydia whispered, "Have you figured it out yet?"

Felicity nodded imperceptibly and Lydia grinned. "Just don't tell your guy that," she whispered. "You should have seen how proud he was to have set all of this up. Granted, it took some of my PR zazoo, but he was pretty fantastic."

"I chose a good one," Felicity murmured, smiling softly as she gazed at Oliver. He caught her glance and stepped closer as he slid an arm around her waist.

"Are you guys going upstairs to get ready?"

"I'm fine in what I'm wearing," Felicity said, smoothing down the skirt of her periwinkle blue skirt. Lydia looked at her oddly.

"Really? You're…you're okay in that?"

Felicity nodded with a bright smile. "Yeah, I mean, there's no reason to get too fancy, right?"

Lydia's eyes narrowed just a bit before she took a hold of Felicity's arm and said, "Alright, it's time for us to go upstairs. Oliver, see you in a few."

Lydia pulled Felicity toward the elevators as she hissed, "Why exactly do you think you're here?"

Felicity glanced back at where Oliver had been, to make sure he wasn't watching, and then said, "It's our wedding shower."

Lydia pushed the button for the elevator and a set of doors on their right opened immediately. Lydia stepped in first, pressing the button for the third floor.

"It is a pretty sweet idea to have it here," Felicity continued. "This is really where our relationship began. I mean, sure, there was a lot of groundwork laid beforehand – a lot of groundwork – but-"

"Felicity, you're not here for your wedding shower," Lydia interrupted, walking out of the elevator. Their room was just around the corner and she waved her card in front of the scanner before walking in and saying, "You're here for your wedding."

Before Felicity could answer she spotted it. The most perfect wedding dress she'd ever seen was resting on the bed. She stepped forward, breath catching as she ran her fingers over the fine lace.

"Do you like it?" Lydia asked anxiously. "Oliver asked me to pick out a dress he thought you'd like, and it seemed like you, but sometimes people can throw you a curveball, you know?"

"It's perfect," she breathed out. "It's…it's absolutely perfect."

"Okay good," Lydia said, voice uncharacteristically thick. "Then, um, let's see you in it, okay? I'll just…" she hiked her thumb toward the bathroom and disappeared. Felicity undressed quickly. She'd never wanted to have a dress on so badly in her life, and when the fabric brushed her skin she finally understood what all those bridal magazines meant when they talked about finding the one.

"Lyd?" she said. Her friend came out of the bathroom, all sentimentality replaced with curt business. Felicity gestured to row of buttons at the back and Lydia nodded quickly, buttoning up the back of the dress with measured proficiency. When she was finished she gently turned Felicity to face her. She examined her like a drill sergeant, making decisive movements as she adjusted the dress.

"Alright, the dress part is done. Now, it's time to do something with your hair."

"Is this really happening?" Felicity murmured, allowing Lydia to lead her to a chair in front of a full mirror. She hadn't noticed all the makeup and hair tools there before, but now she saw that Lydia had practically brought a makeshift salon.

"He called me after you told him all that fake bol shit about being happy with that wedding from hell," Lydia explained slowly, pulling Felicity's hair from its usual high ponytail. She grabbed the brush from the counter and set to work. "He knew you weren't happy and wanted to do something. So, he came up with having the wedding down here. It was pretty short notice, obviously, but he was certain that the people that really mattered would make it down here. He was right. Every single person we invited is here."

"Where are they?"

Lydia teased the hair at the crown of Felicity's head before gathering her hair at the nape of her neck and then shifting it to the side so that her hair spilled over her left shoulder.

"They're probably all out on the beach."

"The beach?"

"I told him we should try to get a banquet hall here. I even made some calls and there was an opening, but he insisted on the beach."

"It's perfect," Felicity said. "The beach is absolutely perfect."

Lydia shook her head. "He really does know you. I would have gone for the banquet hall. Hey, would you plug that curling iron in for me?"

Felicity unraveled the cord from the barrel and plugged it in.

"What about the other wedding? All the reservations and plans?"

"Oliver said Moira's taking care of all of that. Apparently she was absolutely scandalized by the realization she'd sort of hijacked your wedding. So, he said she insisted on wrapping all of that stuff up."

Lydia moved more in front of her and set on her makeup. She used about eighty more products than Felicity normally would, but she kept quiet. Lydia had always been good with makeup and when she pulled back to admire her finished product, Felicity couldn't deny the mastery of her skills. Lydia nodded to herself and picked up the curling iron, curling the ponytail in a few larger sections. She messed with it a bit – picking here and fluffing there – before finishing it all off with a healthy dose of hairspray.

"And now you look like a bride," Lydia said with a grin.

There was a knock on the door and Lydia walked over. She stopped with her hand on the knob and said, "This better not be you, Oliver."

"It's not," a familiar voice said. Lydia pulled open the door to reveal Sadie and Taylor, both of them craning their necks to see Felicity. They rushed forward when they saw her, giving her hearty hugs while being mindful not to muss her hair – a point of conduct driven home by Lydia's warning, "If you break what I just did, I break you."

"You look absolutely stunning," Sadie said.

"Total knockout," Taylor agreed. "And you should see Oliver." She laid her hand on her protruding belly and said, "Even Heather was kicking when we saw him."

"And just when I think you can't make a weirder comment about your pregnancy," Lydia retorted lightly. "Alright, Felicity, are you ready? I was given a strict deadline of 3:00 and…" she glanced down at her watch, "…we are right on time."

Felicity nodded, her entire body thrumming with nervous energy. When she woke up that morning she never dreamt she'd be getting married that afternoon. Everything was happening so quickly and she struggled to catch and remember every moment. She reached out and grasped Lydia's hand in one of her own and Sadie and Taylor's in the other.

"I love you guys and I cannot even tell you – there are literally no words – to express how happy I am that you guys are here with me right now."

"You have no words? That's a first," Lydia returned affectionately.

"We love you, too," Sadie said, squeezing her hand. "Now, let's go get you married."

When Felicity was a little girl she remembered seeing a couple getting married in Vegas. Her mom had snuck her into the casino that night when her babysitter didn't show up and had her stay in the hotel's chapel while she worked. Most of the couples were a blur to her – one inebriated pair after another – but she remembered one in particular. She'd been sitting in the back and had heard the groom ask his bride, "Are you sure you want to do this here?"

The woman had nodded slowly, hands grasping his tightly, and said, "I don't care where we do it, as long as you're the one standing in front of me."

Felicity had no idea how their relationship fared – and reason told her that a couple getting married in a cheap Las Vegas chapel probably wasn't on the side of longevity – but that small conversation had stayed with her, and when she grew up and fell in love she knew exactly what that woman meant. She would have married Oliver in a cheap Las Vegas chapel. She would have married him in Starling City wearing a poufy dress.

But, she married him in Chicago. It was an outdoors ceremony with the lake breeze cooling off the unseasonably warm September day. Everyone that meant something to her was there – includng her mother – and she even had someone to walk her down the aisle. She'd hesitated for just a moment, thinking of her absentee father and wondering if he thought about this day and what he was missing, when John Diggle gently touched her arm and asked if he could have the honor of walking her down the aisle. She could only nod in response, too moved to speak.

The walk down the aisle seemed to be one of the longest she'd ever taken, Oliver watching her with unmasked adoration. He was usually so guarded, but today he held up no walls, no façade. He was entirely open for her, and she loved him all the more for it. When she finally reached him he took her hands quickly, rubbing his thumbs along her palm.

They'd decided on a nondenominational ceremony before, and they kept that with a secular officiant who led the ceremony. He asked if they had prepared vows, and when she looked at Oliver with wide eyes he said, "Don't worry, I'll go first."

She smiled slightly, squeezing his hands.

"When you met me, I was a different person. I was broken and damaged. More than you even know. But then you came into my life. You were this bright light, and I couldn't escape you, even when I wanted to." She smiled a bit at that and he squeezed her hands. "You pushed me to be better. Every day you put your faith in me, you believed in me, until one day I did, too. I was a broken man when you met me, Felicity, but you put me back together. You made me into the man standing before you, and I can't imagine spending the rest of this life with anyone else. You're my best friend. My partner. I want nothing else in this entire world more than I want you to be happy, and I hope to make that happen for the rest of our lives."

It clearly was the end of Oliver's vow and the officiant looked at Felicity and nodded for her to go. Her throat was dry and she swallowed uncomfortably. How could she follow that? Everything he said was perfect, and she felt about one I love you from a good old sob fest.

"Oliver," she began, testing her voice. It seemed strong enough, and she continued. "You know I don't usually have a problem talking, but right now I'm finding it sort of difficult. I…I don't know what to say besides the obvious. You are an amazing man. You surprised me with this entire wedding, and somehow you got every single detail right. I didn't even know what I wanted in a wedding, but you somehow did. See, that's the thing. You know me. You know me probably better than anyone else, so you know what it means when I say that I have never loved, respected, or admired anyone as much as I love, respect, and admire you. You are my rock. My partner. My hero. I…I have always loved you and I always will."

She felt tears well in her eyes and she tried to blink them away as she nodded to the officiant that she was finished. Oliver's eyes were glassy, too, and when a tear trickled down his cheek she reached up impulsively and wiped it away with the edge of his thumb. He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Oliver, do you take Felicity to be our wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

Oliver grinned down at her. "I do."

"Felicity, do you take Oliver to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

Felicity nodded, already itching to step forward and kiss her almost husband. "I do."

The officiant paused for a moment and then said, "With the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife."

Felicity barely moved before Oliver had wrapped his arms around her, his mouth covering hers. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself close, opening her mouth to him as she thought to herself that she was kissing her husband.

Husband. She liked the sound of that.

They pulled away reluctantly, knowing that it wasn't exactly appropriate to have a full on make out session in front of their family and friends, but their hands stayed firmly clasped between them. She glanced up at him what felt like every five seconds, but he was always looking down at her with a soft gaze that made her stomach clench. As they walked out into the small crowd of guests he leaned his head toward her and said, "So, did you enjoy your wedding, Mrs. Queen?"

She held his gaze, feeling immensely fortunate to see the same love and devotion she felt mirrored in his eyes, "It was perfect."

A/N: And, that's a wrap! Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and favorited this story over the past few months. This was a story that started out as a quick idea on a car ride home from Target and then morphed into something I could have never imagined. I have loved sharing this story with you all and will miss writing it.

Which is precisely why, I HAVE DECIDED TO MAKE A SEQUEL! Many of you asked for it, but I had to be coy to preserve the surprise. I will be writing a sequel called "The Accidental Husband" which will be one shots from their marriage. This story will be fun because I will be taking requests from readers for different one shots they'd like to see! So...I'm super excited to start that one!