Effie reblogged a video on Tumblr that showed twins dancing in their highchairs while their dad played the guitar. She kinda suggested a stay at home dad verse for Olicity, and I was already working on the another chapter for this, so.

It's not the best thing written, but I like to think it's sweet and gooey and a little happily-ever-after thing.


"Twins?" Thea screamed. "Again? Fucking twins? AGAIN!?"

"Ah, a congratulations or some such other, you know, encouraging words would be appreciated," Oliver put his arm around Felicity's shoulder.

Thea's mouth opened and closed as she looked between her brother and sister-in-law.

"The-a?" Felicity asked, cautiously, "Are you okay?"

"I just – are you kidding me?" she asked.

Oliver pursed his lips and shook his head.

"You two," she pointed her slender fingers at them accusingly, "you really need a hobby."

And with that, she spun on her heel and left the expecting parents in the kitchen with a "be our godmother?" cake.

"Told you the cake was a bad idea," Oliver sighed.

"It's not a bad idea, it's cute," Felicity pouted, scooping off a bit of icing with her index finger.

Thea's heels announced her return. She snatched the cake from the bench, glaring at the two of them.

"Roy and I would be honoured," she started, opening he cutlery drawer and plucking out a cake spork, "but I need to go and devour this cake to have enough energy to process this information and then deal with the fact there's going to be two more Mini-You Twos running around."

She brandished the spork dramatically and left again.

"Told you the cake was a good idea," she nudged Oliver's shoulder with her own.

"Yeah, yeah," Oliver pulled her into a hug, already feeling the change in shape of Felicity's stomach against his own, "You're the brains, I'm the brawn."


"Felicity?" Oliver cleared his throat. He was watching his six months pregnant wife doing yoga in front of the mirror. If he remembered the prenatal yoga class correctly, she was doing the cow-cat pose. She was wearing Oliver's grey tracksuit pants, slung low on her hips, and a singlet that, with all the moving around she was doing, had ridden up to just under her breasts. Her belly glistened with small silver stretchmarks, moving visibly. The twins loved yoga.

"Mmm?" she met his eyes through the mirror as she rolled her shoulders, lifted her head and let her belly drop closer to the floor, it was almost touching the rug beneath her.

He rolled on to his side and propped himself up on an elbow, adjusting the sheets on his hip. He held her gaze for a little while.

She tempered her breathing and arched up like a cat.

"What?" she asked, timing her question between breaths.

"Are you sure that this isn't triplets?" he asked, as she returned to the cow pose.

"What?" Her eyebrows hiking up in question, chewing her bottom lip vigorously.

"Like, there aren't three of them in there?"

"Really? I'm six months pregnant, and you're asking me that?"

"You just seem bigger than you were with Tommy and Pippa," he countered.

"Yeah, well," she huffed and puffed, moving gingerly to sit and glare at him, "we did have the world's smallest human in between."

"So you'll forgive me for being a little thrown?"

She scrunched her nose up, feigning contemplation. "Well, that depends…"

He eyed her warily, watching as her eyes roamed over his chest, quickly back to his face, and then the length of his body again. Her eyebrows twitched as her gaze fell on the sheets bunched around his waist.

The blush that crept across Felicity's chest stirred something in Oliver. She was glowing, not just from the workout, and her blonde hair curled at her temples.

"Well, come here then," he threw the sheets back, grinning dangerously, revealing his sinewy thighs to her.

Felicity smiled widely and made to get up.

"Fuck," she sighed, exasperatedly, pausing on her hands and knees.

"You okay?" Oliver sat up.

"Yeah, I just, Oliver, I'm stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Stuck!" she shrieked.

Oliver scooted across the bed and plucked a pair of boxers from the floor. Nearly tripping over the waistband, he stumbled towards Felicity, panicked by her ever increasing sobs.

"Hey, hey," he squatted in front of her, touching her shoulder with one hand. His other hand went to cup her cheek, gently coaxing her to look at him.

When she finally glanced up at him, her face was full of embarrassment, confusion, frustration.

"Oliver," she sniffed.

"Hey, hey, you're okay," he soothed, helping her rock backwards to sit comfortably against the wall. She sat cross-legged, her fingers laced underneath her burgeoning stomach as Oliver settled next to her.

"I'm not as fit this time around," she sighed, "it's harder, things are getting harder already. How am I supposed to look after our three kids if I can't even get off the floor without help?"

"Well," he pushed his lips to the side of head, whispering, "you don't get down on the floor to begin with."

"Oliver," she half giggled, half sobbed.

"Come on, how about we get you back in to bed?" Oliver got to his feet, offering Felicity his hands, "I'll round up the kids for weekend breakfast in bed?"

Felicity grunted as Oliver hauled her to her feet. She ran her hands over his chest, down his abdomen, around to his back.

"God," she sighed, pressing her forehead to his sternum.

"Yes?"

"Shut up," she sighed, but Oliver saw the corners of her mouth twitch. "You're still, you're still so perfect, like, your butt, and your arms, they're like they were when we met, and me, I'm this stretch marked, whale of a woman and I'm sor-"

"Uh uh," Oliver shook his head, "you are not apologising to me for your beauty, I won't stand for it, Felicity."

"But-"

"No," Oliver interrupted, walking her slowly to their bed. "Get comfy, I'm going to put some music on, wake the three little terrors up, and then I'm going to make eggs, and fruit salad, and pancakes, and coffee."

"Yeah?" Felicity's bottom lip quivered. He helped her onto the bed and pulled the sheet up over her legs, propping an extra pillow behind her.

"Yeah."

Oliver deftly connected his phone to the speakers beside the bed and, after a few seconds of scrolling, music started playing, soft guitar chords strummed away as Oliver wiped tears from Felicity's cheeks. He caressed her stomach, his hands finding their way under her singlet. He gave her swollen breasts a gentle, exploratory squeeze. She whimpered and he pulled away, breathing an apology into her mouth.

"No," she whispered, her hand squeezing his own through her singlet.

"Caught in the middle of a crossfire," Oliver pressed himself on top of her, "lost my balance on a high wire," Felicity shook her head and he rolled off her, guiding her knee down next to his hip as she straddled him, "trying to figure out what to do, pushed to the edge of my reason," She leaned forward to kiss him, but was stopped by her belly. Oliver chuckled and craned his neck to meet her, "everywhere around me it's treason," A stampede of tiny feet on the floorboards of the hallway drew a sooky noise from Felicity, "I don't want to do that to you."

Felicity let Oliver flip back over.

"We should probably feed the tiny humans," she sighed, as Thomas, Pippa and Bronte burst through the bedroom door.

Oliver slid off the bed and lent forward, pressed a long kiss to her lips, and pulled away smiling. "Yeah."

With sleep mussed hair and hysterical morning giggles, Tommy and Pippa piled on to the giant bed. Oliver scooped Bronte up into his arms, causing her to squeal and laugh. Oliver placed her on top of the duvet where she crawled up the left side of her mother and dove head first under the covers. A few seconds later, and after a bit of writhing, her head of dark blonde curls popped out the top. Tommy was pressed against his mother's right side and Pippa had taken her place, as always, curled up on her Dad's pillow, waiting for him to come back.

"I'm going to make breakfast," Oliver announced and then pointed at his first born daughter, "You're in charge of keeping my place warm, okay?"


"Diggle, where is he?" Felicity sobbed.

"We're working on it," Diggle's voice came over the loud speaker.

Lyla was pacing at the end of the bed, chewing her thumb nail, the other arm wrapped around herself.

"Johnny, I need you to work faster," she spoke.

"Sweetie, I know, we're just-it's-locating him is proving a little more difficult than we first thought."

"John!" Felicity screeched.

Oliver had gone out on a recon mission with Roy two nights earlier, despite Felicity's protests that maybe, you know, with two more tiny humans ready to make their debut any day now, he shouldn't. They'd dropped off comms in the early hours of the morning. It had taken Diggle and Thea, with Felicity's pregnancy hormones barking in their ears, twelve hours to find Roy, beaten beyond recognition, dumped out the back of a warehouse.

Oliver was nowhere to be seen.

Inquiries (and the slightly illegal use of ARGUS technology) had located Oliver in an old boarding school, abandoned decades ago.

It was either the stress, or maybe just unfortunate timing, that caused Felicity's blood pressure to spike to what doctors called "unsafe", and then her waters broke and the contractions started. Donna, already in town for the imminent arrival of her fourth and fifth grandchildren, had assumed responsibility for grandchild One, Two and Three, while Lyla drove Felicity to the hospital. She was still typing away on her tablet as she was admitted.

"Felicity, listen," Diggle sounded exasperated, "we're going to find him, we're going to get him to you, please, trust me."

"I do, John," she sobbed, "I do, but I need him here."

Lyla picked up the phone and left the room, with urgent hisses of "so help me god, Johnny".

Felicity looked around, spying her grab and go bag in the corner of the room. She waddled over to it and, after a lot grunting and improvised lifting techniques, she picked it up and pulled a grey hoodie on.

She walked out of the room and watched three doctors arguing with Lyla, who was brandishing her phone like it was gun.

"You know what," Felicity sighed, jostling her overnight bag at her side, "I'm, I'm going home."

This was answered with exclamations of "No!" to "We wouldn't recommend that right now" and right the way through to Lyla's "You are out of your MIND if you think I'll let that happen".

"But, you know," she started wearily, "I've just decided that today, it isn't the day for this."

"Mrs Queen," her doctor started.

"I just, I've had enough, I'd like to go home, I might come back tomorrow," she nodded and turned towards the elevator.

"Felicity!" Lyla shouted. After pressing the button to call the elevator, Felicity looked backed to see Lyla waving the phone at her.

The elevator doors opened and Felicity stepped inside. They closed before Lyla could get there and Felicity could hear her desperate pleas calling to her.

Felicity was forced to prop herself up against a wall of the elevator as the tiny humans inside of her reminded her of the imminent arrival.

She let out a shaky breathe as the elevator announced her arrival at the ground floor.

The doors opened and she dragged her bag behind her. She had bizarre ideas that Oliver was going to be at reception when the doors opened. She scoffed to herself as she approached the main entrance.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" a security guard asked her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she flashed a smile that she knew Oliver would be proud of.

"FELICITY!" someone yelled and, turning to the commotion at the bottom of the stairs, she saw Lyla helping a doctor pick up files while simultaneously trying to get to her.

Lyla rushed towards her and put the phone to her ear.

"Felicity?" came Oliver's voice, weak and croaky.

"Oh!" she sobbed, feeling the push and pull of another contraction.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"So much better than you right now," she clutched Lyla's arm.

"I'm two minutes away, I won't be long," he promised.

"I'll wait for you."

Felicity sat down on a wooden seat near the front door. Lyla sat down next to her, taking her spare hand in both of hers. Felicity always thought that Lyla would have cold hands, but they were always so warm.

Felicity pressed her forehead to Lyla's shoulder, feeling her hot breath bounce back on her face.

"You're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he assured her, but then hissed.

Felicity sobbed loudly, because that small noise told her that he wasn't fine.

"Here they are," Lyla spoke up and Felicity followed her line of sight.

Oliver was resting his head against the passenger window of Diggle's car, his eyes closed.

"Hey," she said.

She watched him open his eyes and gingerly turn his head, seeking her in the small crowd out the front of the hospital.

He finally found her and the phone slipped from his hand. He pushed the car door open, tentatively pulled himself from the seat and limped towards her.

He'd changed out of his leathers, the button on his fly wasn't done up, the collar of his shirt was half popped, the snap buttons were put together askew.

"Going somewhere?" he indicated the rucksack at her feet and smiled, reopening a split in his lip.

"No," she pushed off Lyla's hand to stand up.

She kissed his cheek gently and intertwined her hand with his.

"It's unlike you to be late to the birth of your kid, Queen," Lyla spoke up from behind as the four of them walked back through the main entrance.

"Hilarious," Oliver scoffed.


Felicity floated down the stairs to the sound of guitar chords and her children giggling. Tommy and Pippa were applauding, while Bronte danced dramatically around the living room. The twins (the younger ones) were smiling in amazement from their shared playpen, wide eyes fixed on their sister.

"When did you decide to pull that thing out again?" Felicity asked.

"Last night, when you were humming this song," he replied, not missing a beat.

She stooped to kiss the back of his neck, leaning over the back of the lounge to do so. As she straightened, she put her earrings in her lobes and then went from child to child, saying good morning to them, kissing their foreheads.

"How about some breakfast before I go to work?" she asked, bending over and picking up Violet (or was it Ada?).

"Pancakes?" Tommy asked.

Violet (it was definitely her, judging by her reaction to the work "pancakes") squealed and threw herself about in Felicity's arms.

Oliver gathered Ada up and the family of seven made a beeline for the kitchen.

Pippa helped set the table while Tommy entertained Bronte. Violet and Ada were doing that weird twin thing and laughing at each other, babbling and gesticulating wildly.

Felicity made coffee and poured milk out for the kids while Oliver made the batter for the pancakes. Pancakes were perfect because the first one (which always turned out to be a disaster) was mashed with berries for the twins to devour. The vibrant coloured mixture would start out in bowls but end up smeared on the trays of the high chairs.

"Tommy, don't put blueberries in Bronte's ears please," Felicity chided with her back turned to the kitchen table.

Pippa laughed and Felicity went about organising the kids school bags while the pancake stack grew and grew.

"This could be a shipwreck on the shore," Felicity sang to herself, "or we could sail away forevermore, this time it's sink or swim, sink or swim."

Oliver kissed the side of her head, moving to the table with a plate of perfect pancakes.

"Hearing the song in your laughter," she continued, turning to follow Oliver to the table, "a melody I chase after, no one else has done this to me."

Violet and Ava were fixated on her, two tooth grins and dribbly chins.

"What have you done to the twins?" she looked at Tommy.

"Nothing!" her eldest protested his innocence.

Felicity raised an eyebrow.

"Honest!"

"Thomas did nothing," Oliver pulled a chair out for her, "that song you were singing, it's the twins jam, they love it."

Now it was Oliver's turn to be on the receiving end of Felicity's questioning eyebrow.

"Explain. Now."

"Well," Oliver sat down and started dishing out pancakes, "yesterday, at lunch time, I pulled out old Mabel," he gestured to the guitar in the corner on the lounge room, "and was playing that song, I have fond memories of that song, and they went nuts in their high chairs, you should have seen them."

Felicity sprinkled berries on Bronte's pancakes and gave her a little maple syrup.

"After we're done here, before I go to work, I need to see this."


"Okay," Felicity pressed the record button on her phone. "It's October 10th, is that right?"

"Yeah," Oliver nodded, setting up opposite the twins with his guitar.

"October 10th," she nodded. "Daddy's going to play them a little song while they're eating their pancakes."

"Ready girls?" Oliver asked.

They grinned at him, and Ava reached for a clump of berry.

Oliver started strumming and Violet's head snapped towards Ava, who grinned so widely that the newly introduced bite of pancake fell out of her mouth.

They started swaying from side to side watching their dad smiling back at them. Ava giggled and waved her arms and legs around, which queued Violet in.

Felicity laughed, watching the two of them rock side to side, each pausing every now and then to shove more mushy pancake into their mouths. Oliver was beaming and, behind him, Thomas, Pippa, and Bronte were laughing.

Felicity's gaze went from Bronte's, to Pippa's, to Tommy's, then to Violet's and Ava's and finally settled on her husbands face. She felt an overwhelming and immense wave of adulation for the man sat next to her. The crows feet near his eyes creased deeper as he laughed. He kept biting his lip and she recognised it as a way that he grounded himself. If he wasn't sure that something was real, if he thought it was a dream, or a nightmare, he would chew on his lip. So when his smile got too big, he nipped his bottom lip.

"Hey," she whispered as he continued playing with the three older children haphazardly shouting bits of the song.

He turned to her. Was he crying?

"This is real," she felt her own eyes prick with tears, "you're allowed to be happy."