A/N: Okay, so this is like overload from me. I've seriously been just writing for, like, three days straight.
I hope you guys like this, it was sort of random and, well, I think I found it funny when I started this and now I don't know what to think of it.
But I hope you guys enjoy this! (Even if it is really random and doesn't make a lot of sense!)
Lol-iver (or Felicity nicknames Oliver)
The first time Felicity calls Oliver 'Lol-iver' she's, accidentally, high.
And not a good high.
To be fair, she actually has no basis for comparison because the one pot brownie back in college is her only reference for drug use and, well, she's allergic to nuts.
So, that wasn't a good high either.
Either way, she's out of her mind high after accidentally ingesting a new drug that's run rampant through Starling City's club scene when she comes up with 'Lol-iver'.
Felicity isn't sure how she came to be high. She does know it was an accident though.
In all honesty, she's pretty sure she got hit in the face with vaporized version of this fun new drug.
But she's not entirely sure how she managed to be in the vicinity of the vaporized version of this drug or even if she was supposed to be near the drug.
Oliver's face suggests that she probably wasn't supposed to be.
So, it was definitely an accident.
Oliver's face is funny.
Felicity bursts into giggles at the random thought.
She then laughs harder when she sees Oliver's frown deepen.
She's sitting on the medical table in the foundry, swinging her legs and giggling as Oliver and Diggle stand side by side and watch her with their arms folded.
They're actually wearing a similar expression.
Their faces are so funny.
It makes Felicity laugh even harder.
"You're face is so funny." She manages to gasp out between fits of giggles. "You should see your face. It's hilarious. Like this."
Felicity scrunches up her nose, trying to make her forehead wrinkle as she folds her arm and frowns.
Except she doesn't frown.
She's laughing too hard.
Because Oliver and Diggle are so funny.
She then leans too far to one side and nearly topples over.
Oliver reaches out quickly and catches her before she can fall off the table and she pats his hand in thanks.
"See? See how funny you are?" Felicity then notices something in the corner of the room. "Um, Oliver, when did you get a parrot? Cause I'm not feeding it and I think it's laughing at you."
Oliver's face drops a little and Diggle sighs.
"I think it's time to make the tea. The hallucinations get worse from what we know."
Felicity isn't really listening.
The parrot is staring at her.
It's green – because of course it's green, it's Oliver's parrot and it has to be green – and it cocks it's head towards Oliver.
Felicity promptly turns back to Oliver and bursts out laughing again.
"Your face is funny. I love how funny your face is. I should call you Lol-iver. Get it? Lol-iver" She gasps and turns to the parrot, which is laughing too. "The parrot thinks your face is funny too, Lol-iver."
Oliver rubs a hand over his funny face.
Felicity thinks that the movement is so funny, she pitches forward and Diggle catches her quickly.
"I'll go make some tea." Oliver sighs. "You're going to feel this tomorrow, Felicity."
Felicity's laughing too hard to notice or reply.
Because, well, Oliver's face.
It's so funny.
The second time Felicity calls Oliver 'Lol-iver', she's four cocktails deep.
It's not an accident, either.
She's had a horrible day at work and Oliver had been weirdly MIA all day and the combination is enough to drive Felicity a little nutty.
Not because she thinks Oliver being MIA means he's disappeared back to the Island or anything. It's just that he'd taken the lifeline job Walter had thrown him and was working at the National Bank and he used to text her all the time.
And she hadn't heard from his today.
So, she was a little worried and saw a bar and decided it was a good idea to go and make friends with the bartender.
Which leads her to being four cocktails deep and, well, contemplating the vastness of the universe.
The universe being one Oliver Queen, of course and the vastness being the width of his shoulders
Because, you know, her universe after four cocktails isn't that vast or involves the actual universe.
That would be stupid.
Felicity looks down at her fifth cocktail – which is a delightful shade of bright blue – and wonders if she should text Oliver and see where exactly he is because she hasn't heard from him all day.
Is it weird that she's had that same thought twice?
But still, it's a very real concern for her because Oliver is surprisingly delightful to talk to over the phone.
Well, not on the phone exactly.
He has a problem with talking.
But, as it turns out, he's very good with texting and Facebook Messenger and Felicity thinks that it might have something to do with the fact that he doesn't have to carefully control his facial expressions when he's writing something.
Not that he has that many facial expressions.
Felicity snorts a little at that.
Oliver has, like, three facial expressions.
Well, maybe more.
But as far as she's notice, Oliver has three.
Angry, really angry and arrow angry.
Oh, and that one he gets sometimes when he's looking at her. Actually, there's the one he gets when he's confused, too. And that scrunched up weird face he gets when he's worried.
Is that even three anymore?
It's more like six.
The point is, she hasn't heard from him at all.
And he has a limited number of facial expressions, apparently.
And the guy down the bar from her is eating nachos and Felicity suddenly remembers that she was hungry before the bartender became her best friend.
Those nachos are looking really good.
Before Felicity can contemplate how to gain those nachos, her phones finally rings and Oliver's face is staring up at her.
Well, sort of.
Her contact photo of Oliver was a sneaky one she took when he was leaning over paperwork ages ago and she'd kind of liked the way he looked when he was concentrating on whatever he was reading.
She'd also really liked the way he'd pushed his shirt up to his elbows.
Felicity likes Oliver's forearms.
Actually, Felicity just likes Oliver's arms period.
Anyway, that's not the point.
The point is that Oliver has suddenly decided to call her.
And her phone is still ringing.
Which reminds Felicity that she hasn't answered her phone.
She'd better do that.
Oliver sounds concerned.
Felicity doesn't know why.
She's not slurring that badly.
"Hi. That's me!" She informs Oliver cheerily.
There's a slight pause on his end and then Oliver asks very carefully, "Felicity, have you been drinking?"
Felicity snorts at the question. "Yep. Pink ones. The very nice bartender has mixed for me."
"Hmm." That's a tell.
Felicity knows Oliver's tells.
One of them is 'hmming' to buy himself some time.
He does it too when she's not making much sense. But Felicity's pretty sure she was making sense before.
"Listen, Lol-iver, I mean Oliver. Hey, I called you Lol-iver. That's funny. Which is kind of ironic because sometimes, I think you're being funny and you're not and then other times you're being funny and I don't actually know you're being funny. But that might not be irony. Is that irony, Lol-iver?" Felicity asks, absently stirring a finger through her fourth – maybe fifth – martini and continuing to eye the nachos. "I like calling you Lol-iver, it sort of rolls of the tongue. Like the 'r's'. You know what I mean? Like a 'r' like this grrrr."
Okay, Felicity doesn't know what she's trying to say.
This time, she's definitely not making sense.
She does know that she, possibly, sounds like a pirate.
And not a good pirate either.
A drunk one.
Who's blond and five martinis deep and really craving nachos.
Oliver heaves out a sigh at her words. "Where are you?"
"I am at a bar." Felicity replies and then giggles a little at Oliver's sigh. "Near the lair." Felicity lowers her voice at this piece of information. "Promise that's where I am, Lol-iver. I promise."
There are sounds that seem to indicate Oliver is moving. "Stay there, I'll come and get you, okay?"
Felicity thinks that sounds like a fantastic idea. She hasn't heard from him all day and now she gets to see him.
What could be better than that?
"Oooh, can you bring nachos?" Felicity asks because you know what? That would make seeing Oliver so much better. "Please, please? Because I'd really like some nachos. Please, Lol-iver."
Oliver's answering chuckle snakes it's way down her spines and causes Felicity to sigh happily.
She likes his chuckle.
It's so manly.
"I can bring you nachos. Just stay where you are." Oliver asks sounding more and more amused.
Felicity thinks that sounds like a great idea. "And when you get here with the nachos, Lol-iver, you can tell me why I haven't heard from you all day."
"Okay. I can do that."
Felicity takes this as a sign to take a sip of her martini even as she hears the sound of Oliver's car unlocking.
"Felicity? I'll see you in about five minutes." Oliver says and then continues before she can reply. "And you know you're going to regret this in the morning, right?"
Felicity considers his point for all of about five seconds.
Then, "Probably. Just remember the nachos, okay?" she tells him jovially before hanging up.
She then downs the rest of the martini.
Felicity's not that jovial the next day.
Her head is killing her.
So does the look Diggle's giving her when she walks into the foundry. It's his 'I-know-what-happened-last-night.'
So, he and Oliver have obviously had their daily gossip session.
Felicity makes a face. "Don't remind me."
Diggle chuckles at her words and then walks over to pat her shoulder.
"Just don't call him Lol-iver again. He might not cope."
So, she hadn't imagined calling Oliver that.
The third time she calls him Lol-iver, it's actually at Oliver's insistence.
At least, Felicity's pretty sure he's delusional.
She can't really tell.
That's actually not true.
Oliver's is talking quite a bit, a lot more than usual anyway and Felicity and Diggle are taking that as a sign of…well, they're not really sure.
Oliver had been totally normal when he'd left the foundry.
Taciturn, snarly and focused.
So, pretty much completely normal.
He'd returned and they couldn't get him to stop talking.
Diggle thinks he's been drugged.
Felicity thinks he indulged in happy hour in his Arrow suit.
Either way, he won't stop talking and Felicity feels like this might be some sort of punishment for all the time that she's put her foot in her mouth around Oliver.
Not that he's putting his foot in his mouth.
Oliver has just spent the last ten minutes informing her why technology is evil.
To say Felicity was shocked was an understatement.
She'd never known he had such strong feelings for technology.
Strong feelings, which she's terrified, might turn into him subconsciously attempting to destroy her computers with a wide swipe of his arms that could knock her chai tea onto the evil computers.
Because this new, bizarre version of Oliver had insisted on sitting in her seat and was closer to her computers than she was.
He's also spinning in it a lot.
Felicity's not entirely sure how he's not dizzy, right now.
"Oliver, do you think maybe you should sit still?" Felicity asks because, really, she doesn't want him to, you know, get sick from all the chair spinning he's doing.
She also doesn't want to clean it up.
Felicity thinks it's slightly bizarre that she's fine with cleaning up blood but vomit? No, thank you.
"What? Technology is evil. Really evil, Felicity." Oliver tells her seriously; like he's imparting essential information she needs to know. "Hey, I should come up with a name for you!"
"What?" She asks because, well, wasn't he talking about the evils of technology before?
Not that a subject change isn't necessary.
If he keeps telling her technology is evil, Felicity is so not responsible for what she'll do to him.
She might even take a photo of him sitting in her chair because you know what? He looks ridiculous.
"Your name! I have a name. You gave me a name, remember? Twice now you've made a point of calling me…what was it? Lol-iver?" Oliver asks, a frown of concentration pulling at his mouth. "That's right! It was Lol-iver! That's what you call me. Why do you call me that? Call me it again." He demands.
Felicity rolls her eyes. "It is Lol-iver and I don't even know why I do that."
"You do it when you're ine-inebr-drunk. Or, actually, high. The first time you were high. Definitely high. You thought I owned a parrot." Oliver tells her, stumbling over inebriated in a way that is way too adorable.
Felicity feels like this might be an opening.
"Oliver, are you high?" She asks and, apparently, that question is hilarious.
Because Oliver roars with laughter.
"Oliver - "
"Nope, not answering to that." Oliver tells her with a cocky grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
He actually wiggles them.
Oh dear God, she's entered an alternate universe.
Oliver wiggled his eyebrows.
And she knows why.
"Lol-iver, seriously. Are you high? Lol-iver?"
Felicity feels like such an idiot calling him this.
Why did she not feel like this when she first came up with this stupid name?
Before Oliver can even respond to the absurdity of her calling him Lol-iver, Diggle appears from wherever he's been hiding.
"Diggle, my man! Where have you been?" Oliver appears sufficiently distracted by Diggle's appearance. "Got any cool names for me, too?"
Felicity throws her hands in the air and storms off.
She's so going to remind him of this when he's recovered from whatever it is he's on.
Actually, she might not.
Because she really doesn't want to say that stupid name again.
The fourth time she calls him Lol-iver, Felicity's sick.
Like, from the flu.
She's not drunk, high or dealing with an overly talkative Oliver, she's just sick.
And on her couch, unable and unwilling to move.
Felicity had set up herself up on her couch because she'd shuffled to it like, a day ago, and hadn't had the energy to go back to her bed.
It was just too far away.
So, she drifts in and out of sleep on her couch with the DVD menu of Troy – the longest movie she could find when she'd had what little energy it took to look – playing on loop until she wakes up and her television is turned off.
And Oliver is crouching down in front of her, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead.
"You're burning up." He tells her matter-of-factly.
In response to this, Felicity coughs.
It's a brilliant reply, if she does say so herself.
"I know." Felicity then realizes Oliver's in her home. When he most definitely wasn't before. "Lol-iver, I mean, Oliver, how did you get in?"
Oliver pulls his hand away, only to push some hair behind her ear gently. "You don't want to know."
If she had the energy, Felicity is pretty sure that she would be getting worked up right now about Oliver's decidedly dodgy answer.
But she doesn't have the energy.
So, she lets it slide.
"Okay. Why are you here?"
Oliver's thumb strokes over her cheek. "You're not answering your phone. I figured something was wrong."
Given that he looks relieved, Felicity can surmise that Oliver probably imagined the worst-case scenario, which would have been kidnapped by a psychopath or dead by a psychopath before he'd come over to check on her.
It says something about her life that the worst-case scenario is kidnapped by a psychopath or dead by a psychopath.
There are lots of psychopaths in her life, apparently.
And yet, most people's worst-case scenario is the flu or getting a call from the hospital.
Most people clearly don't come into contact with psychopaths,
"My phone died. The charger was too far away from me and – " Felicity coughs violently, interrupting her explanation and Oliver's brow furrows.
"Okay, come on. You need a bath, some food and medicine." Oliver tells her gently, as if he's informing her of things she doesn't already know.
Felicity feels like now is the time to say something smart but you know what? She just doesn't have the energy to come up with a quip.
"Lol-iver, I mean, Oliver, it's – "
Oliver cuts her off with a shadow of a smile. "You know, this Lol-iver thing is beginning to grow on me."
Felicity stares at him because the Lol-iver thing is certainly not growing on her.
And she came up with the stupid name.
Oliver just shrugs and then slides his hand under her side and applies enough pressure to make Felicity struggle into a sitting position.
"It's growing on me. Makes me feel special." Oliver tells her, the look in his eye Felicity can only describe as cheeky.
After imparting this piece of information, Oliver presses a kiss to her forehead and Felicity promptly forgets what she was going to say.
She'll only really remember what he says a few days later, too.
Mostly because the kiss had distracted her, as had Oliver basically moving into her apartment to take care of her.
But when Felicity does remember, she can't help but stare at him.
Because, well, since when does Oliver want her to make him feel special?
Especially with that stupid name.
The fifth time she calls him Lol-iver, he's lying in her bed, stroking her back.
Felicity's lying on her belly, her arms folded under her head and she's watching Oliver, who's lying on his side, her sheet draped over his waist, watch her.
The casual way he's stroking his hand up and down her naked back makes a pleasant little thrill run down her spine.
Felicity isn't even going to begin questioning how they'd ended up in bed and can only, really, accept that there was something inevitable about it.
It doesn't really matter 'cause he's lying there and Felicity's quite fascinated by the way he's watching her.
His face is incredibly still, his eyes faraway and she can tell he's thinking.
Felicity's taken to calling this his 'thinking' face.
What he could possibly be thinking about, right now, is beyond her.
Felicity can barely think. He did a really, really, really good job of making sure of that.
She's curious though because she sort of wonders if its going to be profound.
Either that or he's going to freak out about finally sleeping together and push her away to 'protect' her.
Shifting her head slightly, Felicity eyes him. "What are you thinking about?"
Oliver seems to snap back to the present at her question and Felicity blushes a little at the way his eyes brighten when he focuses on her.
Oh, she's so going to indulge in the swoop of her stomach every time he does that.
"Hmmm?" Oliver mumbles, shifting a little closer to kiss her.
The hand stroking her back slides over to her waist and he tugs her a little closer as he does this.
Felicity's mind immediately goes to what they'd been doing before.
She's pretty sure her blush deepens.
"What are you thinking about?" She asks again and Oliver smiles a little.
"I was thinking of asking you where you came up with Lol-iver. Especially seeing as it wasn't a slip of the tongue." He says and Felicity gives him a half-hearted dirty look.
She's not entirely sure what the logic behind Lol-iver is but she's not willing to get drunk or high or sick to figure it out.
So, she goes with what might be the truth.
"I think it's because if you put an L in front of your name, the first three letters are then LOL. You know, laugh out loud? So, maybe I decided to shorten it to saying Lol-iver instead of LOL Oliver. Hence, Lol-iver. Because apparently, I find you funny when I've been injected with something, Lol-iver." Felicity says with a sigh and then blanches a little. "Not that I think you're not funny when I'm sober but – "
Oliver's laugh cuts her off.
Felicity has to stare at him because Oliver's laugh is, like, one of the rarest sounds in the world.
His shoulders still shaking with mirth, Oliver presses a kiss to her lips.
"Only you, Felicity, only you."
Felicity isn't sure what that means or even if it's entirely complimentary.
Not that she cares that much, either.
Not when Oliver keeps kissing her and coaxes her onto her back.
Thoughts of Lol-iver disappearing from her mind with the stroke of his hands and the weight of him settling on top of her.
For now, anyway.
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this! As always, reviews make any authors day!