A/N: I saw a prompt for this on Tumblr and just went for it. I'm planning it to be a multi-chapter. Hope you enjoy!

The Domestic Life

If someone had told Felicity six months ago that Oliver Queen would be living with her, she would have laughed in their face, making some joke about how the only way that would happen was in some weird Twilight Zone turn of events, and since she hadn't been spotting little green men running around, odds were pretty low Oliver Queen would be anywhere near her apartment. But then Isabel Rochev happened and the Queen family's fortune was drained. The Queen mansion was seized by the government and she watched her formerly flush boss meander the treacherous waters of the lower class.

He'd had the decency to ask Diggle first. She'd been there for the conversation, dutifully working on the computer as she pretended not to eavesdrop. Oliver had said something along the lines of how Diggle was a brother to him and when tough times happened brothers help each other out. Six months ago, that would have worked fine. But now there was Lyla and a little Diggle on the way. Diggle told him that he wanted to helped him, but he had a family now. He had to look after them first. So, Oliver had put on a strong face, saying that he understood and he wished nothing but the best for Diggle and his expanding family.

That was when he glanced over at Felicity and she pointedly ignored his gaze, despite her cheeks flushing of their own accord. He wouldn't ask her. That would just be ridiculous after all the things that happened – or not happened, depending on who you asked – over the past few weeks. Surely, he had other options. The Lances had become more than partial to him as of late, but then she remembered they were dealing with an ailing Quentin, who was recovering from major surgery to correct the internal damage he'd sustained during the battle. Then she thought of Walter, but he'd moved back to England.

By the time Oliver sheepishly showed up at her door Felicity had all but resolved herself to the fact that she might just be the only person in Starling City who could take in the Queen stray.

"It'll only be a few weeks," Oliver had promised. "Just until I get a job and then I'll find my own place."

So, she'd stepped aside and let him into her apartment for the first of what would be many times. In the end, she couldn't say no to him – not when it really mattered. She'd pointed to the couch and said, "Say hello to your new home. It's not the most comfortable couch. The few times I've fallen asleep on it I always get a crick in my neck. But, you know, it's sleep-able."

He'd smiled a bit and told her, "This couch looks great."

And just like that, Felicity Smoak had a new roommate.

Diggle was more than amused when he heard about their new living arrangement. They were at their new foundry, discussing the next big bad there was for them to take down when Oliver had casually joked that they could take on the clomp-er who lived above Felicity.

"Hold on," Diggle said, glancing between them. "Are you two living together?"

"Not really," Felicity said curtly. "He's crashing on my couch."

"Temporarily," Oliver interjected. "It's just until I get a job lined up. Until then, I'm sort of…monetarily challenged."

"Is that how formerly rich people say poor?" Felicity asked, tilting her head to the side.

"So, what's it like?"

"What's what like?" Oliver asked, leaning against a table.

"Living together," Diggle pressed. "Is it going well?"

"Again, we're not living together," Felicity clarified. "Oliver is crashing on my couch. There is a distinct difference between the two."

"That difference being?" Diggle asked leadingly.

Felicity frowned, turning her attention back to the computer. In her mind there was a big difference. Living together connoted the sort of relationship that her and Oliver didn't have; one that, given recent events, she'd found herself thinking about more and more, which wasn't helped in the least by him being on her couch. Him being on her couch meant that her usual Oliver-free-hours were now full of Oliver. He was watching TV with her. He was making them scrambled eggs – the only thing in the kitchen he had any idea how to do. He was everywhere, and it while it wasn't exactly unpleasant, she did find herself missing the moments of respite she had when her abode was primarily hers. So, no, they weren't living together. He was crashing.

"It's going fine," Oliver filled in after her prolonged silence.

"Well, she hasn't put one of your arrows in you yet," Diggle said. "So, that's a definite positive."

Oliver smirked. "That is very true."

"Don't think I haven't thought about it," Felicity chimed in. "I swear he has some metaphysical aversion to putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher."

In just the few days her and Oliver had been living together, she'd seen that he was definitely not accustomed to life without a maid. And she'd told him, in no uncertain terms, that she would not be donning the apron for him.

"I put my cereal bowl in the dishwasher this morning," Oliver returned.

She smiled tightly and returned, "Yes, congratulations. You managed to get one bowl in the dishwasher."

Diggle smirked, glancing between the two as they argued lightly. After a moment they realized that he was watching them and they fell silent, Felicity flushing as Oliver cleared his throat.

"Yeah," Diggle murmured, smirk blossoming into a full grin. "This is going to be fun. So, how's the job search going, Oliver?"

"Not well," Oliver admitted. "Not many business are hiring right now, and apparently, being a former CEO of a fortune 500 company scares off most other employers."

"Employers don't like people who are overqualified," Diggle said, shaking his head. "It makes them feel inadequate."

"If only they knew just how unqualified you were for the CEO position," Felicity piped in. "Hey, maybe you could put that as a sort of addendum in your resume."

Diggle snorted and Oliver retorted, "Thank you for the suggestion, Felicity. But, I think I'll leave that off my resume."

She raised her hands in front of her and said, "Just trying to help."

"It's a shame that Detective Lance doesn't know you're the Arrow," Diggle said. "Maybe he could have gotten you something in law enforcement."

"That's the thing, I am doing law enforcement. This? What we do? This is a job."

"But it's sort of hard to get paid when you're an anonymous vigilante," Felicity murmured. She understood where Oliver was coming from, though. Being the vigilante was a full time job, and it was a shame he didn't get any credit for it. That was what he had chosen, though, and he had to live with that choice.

"You'll find something, Oliver," Diggle assured him. "It might just take you some time."

Oliver and Felicity drove to her apartment from the foundry, Oliver characteristically quiet as they weaved their way through the city. She thought of the conversation they'd been having with Diggle, the part about him finding a job, and she murmured, "You will find something, you know."

"Find what?"

"A job," she said. "It's out there. You just need to be patient."

"I know," he said. "But, what will I find. Sometimes I think I'm going to end up flipping burgers at Big Belly."

"Diggle and I wouldn't mind that. I bet you'd get a great employee discount."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I don't know if they'd let you use that discount for friends."

"I'm sure we could slip it past them," Felicity said, glancing toward him. "You do have a track record for pulling stuff like that off."

"I just want to find something so I can get out of your hair," he said. "I know it must not be easy having me around all the time."

She pressed her lips together, eyes trained on the road in front of her. She didn't know if he was referring to what had happened back at the Queen mansion, which felt like years ago at this point, or maybe just the fact that she didn't have any time to herself anymore. After a moment she said, "It's not too bad. Besides the dishes thing, you're not a half bad roommate."

"I'm not?" he asked, grin evident in his voice.

She let out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. They were joking again. This was territory she was comfortable with.

"You don't snore," she said. "You pick up milk when we're out. And you don't hog the TV."

"I like how not hogging the TV is part of your good roommate criteria."

"I've seen many friendships ruined by greedy TV watching," she told him, grinning slightly. "But, really, you can stay as long as you need."

"I'll get my own place as soon as I can," he promised. "Then you'll finally be rid of me."

She knew he was joking, but as she glanced over at him, her gaze lingering on his profile, she though to herself that she would never truly be rid of Oliver Queen. Not in a million years.

A/N: I know it's short - but I wanted to set up the story. Let me know if you'd like to see more!