Summary: AU. Walter thought of how relieved Robert would've been to see his son as a family man, instead of having the grim future he'd painted, in which Oliver had a STD...and an illegitimate child or two. "He would have been proud." Established Olicity. One-shot.

*o*o*

"You need to go to sleep, Alex," instructed Felicity, placing one hand on her hip while she pointed the other towards the stair case.

Her thirteen year old son made a face. "Come on Mom," he groaned unhappily. "I'm not even tired and ugh, I just want to spend some time with Grandpa."

"Go to bed," said Oliver, walking into the room with a scowl plastered on his face. Between work, Arrow duties and his seventeen year old daughter's new boyfriend, he was exhausted and really not in the mood to deal with his son's antics. All he wanted was to lift his wife onto his shoulders and carry her to their bedroom. To sleep- among a number of other things, that is.

Walter Steele watched with concealed amusement. His stepson and step daughter-in-law were trying to get his step-grandson to go to sleep but the kid just wasn't complying with their demands. A small smile graced his lips as he recalled a similar scenario in the past, where Moira and Robert had tried to get their son to go to bed, resulting in Oliver reluctantly dragging himself to his room, only to make an escape through the window.

That hadn't been pleasant.

But then again, that was when Oliver was fifteen. Not thirteen, amended Walter fondly, thinking of how relieved Robert would've been to see his son as a family man, instead of the grim future he'd painted in which Oliver had a STD...and an illegitimate child or two. Another alternative was that Oliver's dead body would be found in a ditch- after too much excessive drinking. Or perhaps even drugs.

He suppressed a shudder at the thought. At least Moira had been lucky enough to witness the birth of her two grandchildren. She'd died a peaceful death the previous year and although not a single day didn't pass by without him missing her, it gave him some satisfaction that she'd died as a happy woman, having lived a full life.

She'd got what she always wanted:

Her son- happily married to a down-to-earth girl, with two beautiful children that could bring a smile to anyone's face. Anytime. Their humour was contagious; they were all smiles, except those rare moments where they were being forced to bed...

Her daughter- engaged. Clean. Managing a club. Happy.

"Alexander Thomas Robert Queen!" Felicity's voice rose an octave, indicating how serious she was. "This is the last time I'm telling you, mister. I'm counting till three and if you're still here afterwards, you're scrubbing all the tiles in the kitchen." She paused. "For at least a month. Trust me, that won't be fun."

Alex looked up in alarm. His eyes widened as he waved at Oliver and Walter, before thundering up the stairs. "Good night," he called out along the way. "I'll see you for breakfast," he added in Walter's direction, aware that the older man would be staying for a couple more nights before leaving for a business trip. After all, the Queen children had always been aware of how precious time was...if their father's incident of being cast away on an island for five consecutive years, was any indication.

Walter walked over to Oliver, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "They'd be proud of you," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "Your parents would be really proud."

Oliver nodded. "I like to think I've done justice to my father's memory," he said, shaking his head lightly. "I know Mom was happy with the way things are with me but damn, I wonder if Dad would have-"

"He would've been proud too," replied Walter. "I know I am." He gestured to Felicity. "I, for one, am immensely pleased that you're happy. With Felicity."

"Oh, we are," said Felicity, a grin appearing on her face as she came in between the two men. Wrapping one arm around her husband's waist, she raised her head to look at his face. Then stepped forward to embrace Walter. "Part of it is because of you," she said.

Walter let out a laugh. That was true. "Who would have thought?" he said almost inaudibly. "I never imagined that by recommending you to Oliver..." His voice trailed off.

"Thank you, though," said Oliver, almost uncomfortably. "With whatever's happened over the years, I don't think I've ever thanked you for everything that you've done. For the company. For Mom. Thea. Me."

"You don't thank family, Oliver," was Walter's response. "I won't say that it was completely easy but I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He didn't mention the part that he often stayed awake at night, wondering what the hell he'd done by marrying Moira (his best friend's widow) and that he'd effectively, betrayed his friendship with Robert. That plagued his sleep. Bothered him to his core.

He'd always loved Moira. Even when Rob was still alive and they were married but did that change the fact that he-

He ignored his line of thoughts. It wouldn't do him any good if he went down that road. Again. He just wanted some time with his family. His family, he thought, his heart swelling at the thought of it.

Oliver and Thea considered him to be a father figure. Not their father. Or his replacement. But they considered him something: someone special. And that gave him a sense of pride; accomplishment that he may have made an impact on the Queen children's lives. A positive impact, at that. Robert would've appreciated that, right?

Oliver nodded, "We're glad to have you, Walt," he said. "Truly."

"I'm glad to be here," replied Walter. "To be in your lives."

He was half way down the hall when Felicity called his name. "Oh and one more thing," she said, "thank you for stopping Oliver from kicking Allie's boyfriend out of the house. That would've been a disaster. Can you imagine how she would have reacted if-"

"It wasn't a problem," he chuckled. "I don't think that would've been the right way to get rid of the chap."

"Huh?" Felicity's eyes widened from where she stood.

Oliver smirked, knowing what would come next.

"I know a man," continued Walter almost deviously, "who knows an easy way of disposing a body or two. I have contacts." He shrugged. "Shady associates who owe me and whatnot. We just have to be more subtle about it."

Well, at least Arrow wouldn't have to make an appearance in some young man's home, thought Oliver, content with his step-father's way of dealing with the situation.

He really hated the punk who was dating his daughter.

Really, really hated him.

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