Work Text:
Oliver cooked when he was stressed out. A new fact that he discovered about himself in the five months that he and Felicity were away from Starling City.
Back then, whenever he would wake up from a nightmare, which had become a rarity, he would go to the kitchen and bake a batch of nut-free cookies. It escalated to more complicated dishes when he discovered a innate talent and love for cooking. So, whenever something would cause him stress, or remind him of his traumatic experiences, his go-to solution, after taking sprints around the beach in front of their Duxbury cottage, was to head to kitchen and cook.
Felicity quickly learned that Oliver would only start talking about what was troubling him after he served and they consumed the meal he had prepared.
This time though, it was getting to be too much, Felicity thinks as she sees Oliver place another plate of food on their dining room table.
They had been back in Starlin– err Star City for close to three weeks and the tension within the team had not eased up.
Diggle, despite warning motions, pinches and pointed half-glares directed to him by Felicity, had not stopped with the passive-aggression towards Oliver. He would only address Oliver when absolutely necessary – and without once meeting Oliver’s eyes. Most of the time, Digg would make snide-ish remarks towards Oliver, or just scoff and roll his eyes whenever Oliver would speak.
Oliver, for all of Felicity trying to convince him to start a heart-to-heart confrontation with Diggle, opted to just take it and “give Diggle time to work it out of his system, because he deserved it”. Felicity knew that ‘he’ meant both him and Diggle to Oliver.
Laurel was not helping matters either. Her displeasure about what Oliver had done to the team, to Nyssa, and with Malcolm Merlyn was apparent in her outright glaring and snappish remarks towards Oliver. Laurel’s attitude in the lair clearly signified that she had drawn a line between Oliver and Felicity, and the rest of the team, often times questioning and scoffing at Felicity’s intel and technical skills.
Whenever Laurel would snap at Felicity, Oliver would always stand close to Felicity with a hand on her shoulder, and growl and glare at the older woman. Thankfully, Laurel always backed off and would shoot Felicity an apologetic glance. Well, until the next time she snapped at Oliver and / or Felicity.
The only bright spot in the team, as far as Oliver and Felicity were concerned, was Thea. The younger woman was so obviously aware of the tension within the team that she over-compensated with big smiles and a really, really, really excited tone of voice whenever the team were in the same room. Felicity was thankful for Thea’s efforts, but at the same time, felt bad for her.
On top of that, this week, they had been receiving cryptic chatter over the internet about something big happening in Starlin – err Star City. Something big, something bad.
In one of the black hat communities that Felicity monitored for criminal activity (more and more, criminals had an internet-based element to their work), a new user had showed up, calling themselves, “Anarky”. At first, it seemed like the rantings of a person frustrated with the corruption in the local government. Anarky quickly amassed followers in that online community, who were feeling the same frustrations and anger towards their city government. Sure, there was talk of “civil disobedience”, which quickly escalated into talk about more violent means to combat the local government.
This week, Anarky started posting a mysterious message on the online forum:
“On a day like this in 1879, for 13.5 hours,
Small-bore will be razed, one at a time,
It will begin: or is high.
Anarchy or death.”
It wouldn’t have been so alarming, if other people in the forum didn’t start reposting the message all over the internet, and as graffiti on the streets of the Starl – err Star City.
The team had agreed to call the attention of the SCPD, through Captain Lance, on the matter. It had seemed like there was a plan to assassinate members of the city government (Felicity had explained that “small-bore” is a term used for politicians with narrow or trivial policies). Anything more than that, they were stumped.
Which was causing an already tense situation in the team to escalate.
Before the team could implode, Thea called for a “time out” for everyone to gather their wits and calm, claiming that perhaps a night of relaxation would be good for everyone so they can look at the cryptic message with fresh eyes the next day.
Thankfully, everyone agreed, heading to their respective homes to decompress.
For Felicity, that meant having to consume what is starting to look like a seven-course meal, plus a midnight snack, being prepared by her boyfriend.
———-
“Oliver!” Felicity calls out from the living room as she looks up from her tablet to see Oliver put yet another plate of food on their dining room table.
“What?” Oliver answers, hurrying back to the kitchen to check on the cheese danish that was just about ready to be taken from their oven.
“I hope you’re not expecting me to eat all of that,” she says, getting up from their grey couch to follow him to their kitchen.
Oliver had just taken out the delicious-smelling cheese danish from the oven, and had rushed to their gas stove top to expertly flip the New York strip steak browning in the pan while stirring something in another pot.
“There’s no way, the two of us could eat all of that,” Felicity asserts, taking a seat on the stool by the kitchen island.
“Too much?” Oliver says sheepishly, finally realising how much food he had been cooking.
“Let me see,” Felicity responds, feigning nonchalance as she looks at the dining table to her left, “There’s quinoa salad, what looks like some cream of something –”
“Broccoli,” Oliver inserts.
“– soup, a cheesecake, grilled tilapia with mango salsa, mac and cheese,” Felicity continues, then points to the the items still in the kitchen, “Steaks, cheese danish, and whatever it is you have in that pot.”
“Mushroom risotto,” Oliver offers.
“And mushroom risotto,” Felicity nods, “We can’t possibly eat all of that, Oliver.”
“But you love all these things, Felicity!” Oliver protests, “And I made you your favourite! Cheese danish! I’m going to top that with fruit! You love that!”
“I do, Oliver,” Felicity smiles, “And I love you, but how can we eat all of that? We’re not hobbits, Oliver!”
“Hobbits?” Oliver asks absent-mindedly as he turns to turns to remove the steaks from the pan to let it rest, and he gives the risotto a final stir before turning the flame off.
“Hobbits eat seven meals a day. Breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper,” Felicity explains, “The point is, you made enough food for four hobbits!”
“Are you calling yourself short?” Oliver teases, approaching her to lay a kiss on her forehead.
Felicity hits his chest in admonishment, “No!”
Oliver chuckles as he pulls her closer, spreading her thighs so he can stand in between them as he nuzzles her hair, “I don’t think you’re a hobbit, Felicity.”
Felicity laughs, nipping his chin, then sits up straight in her chair in surprise.
“What?” Oliver asks, pulling away from her.
“Hobbits! Gollum!” Felicity announces frantically, before scrambling off the stool. Oliver stops her.
“What?”
“Gollum called the sun ‘Yellow Face’!” Felicity insists loudly as if that would make sense to him. She pushes away from him to head to the couch where she left her tablet.
“Felicity…?” Oliver follows her to their living room.
“Or is high!” Felicity says, “Or is another name for yellowish gold!”
“So, 'Or is high’ could mean when the 'yellow face is high’,” Oliver confirms, stunned at just how smart Felicity is.
“Noon!” Felicity says distractedly, fiddling with her tablet.
“Noon,” Oliver nods, smiling in awe at her, “You’re remarkable.”
She flashes him a soft smile, “Thank you for remarking on it.”
“What about the first line? 'On a day like this in 1879, for 13.5 hours’,” Oliver asks, taking a seat next to Felicity on the couch.
“I’m doing a search on what happened in 1879. All I could think of was Thomas Edison inventing an electric bulb,” Felicity says.
“What’s the exact date of that?” Oliver asks.
“October 21,” Felicity says and looks at Oliver with wide eyes before jumping into his arms with hers wrapped around his neck, “Oliver! He got it to work for 13.5 hours the next day!”
“Did you just crack Anarky’s message?” Oliver responds in amazement.
“We did, Oliver!” Felicity cries happily, “We both did!”
“I guess, we should call a team meeting then?” Oliver suggests.
“I’ll do it, prepare the rest of the food,” Felicity says before reaching for her phone.
—————–
Thirty minutes later, all of their teammates had made it to their converted warehouse home.
“What’s going on, Felicity?” Digg asks as he steps, for the first time, into Felicity and Oliver’s home. He had declined any invitations from the couple for a visit or a meal. But with Felicity’s urgent call, babbling about Anarky’s message, he had no choice but to head to the couple’s home with Lyla and Sara in tow.
“We’ve cracked Anarky’s message,” Felicity says with confidence.
“We who?” Laurel confirms with a frown.
“Oliver and I,” Felicity smiles.
“What’s with the food?” Thea asks, spotting the food-laden dark wood dining table.
“Oliver cooks when he’s stressed out,” Felicity answers, glancing at her blushing boyfriend, “Which is good because I eat when I’m stressed out. Win-win! But not this much! I’m hoping you guys can help with that.”
“Is that cheesecake?” Lyla asks, stepping away from her husband to get nearer to the dining table with Sara in her arms.
“Yeah,” Felicity responds proudly, “Oliver’s got a natural talent for cooking.”
Felicity motions for the rest to join Lyla and Sara at the dining table. Oliver follows after her.
Once they were all seated, Digg asks again, “What about the message?”
“So, we all know what the message is, right?” Felicity starts, “We think it means that it will happen on either October 21 or October 22, at noon. The assassination of the politicians. It may also have something to do with electricity.”
“What?” Laurel asks doubtfully, “How?”
“Well, the first line is, 'On a day like this in 1879, for 13.5 hours’. Thomas Edison invented the first workable electric bulb in October 21, 1879. But he tested it the next day, October 22, for 13.5 hours,” Felicity explains.
“And we know what the second line means – that they will target 'small-bore’ politicians,” Oliver continues, “Do you want to explain about 'or is high’, Felicity?”
“Well, in the Lord of the Rings, Gollum calls the sun, 'yellow face’ – and when Oliver accused me of being a hobbit –”
“I did not accuse you of being a hobbit, Felicity,” Oliver interjects in a teasing voice, grabbing her hand and catching her eyes, “You said that you were not a hobbit that ate seven meals a day. I asked, if you were calling yourself a hobbit.”
“Guys, focus,” Thea interrupts.
“Right,” Felicity removes her gaze away from Oliver to face the rest of the team, “Anyway, after a discussion about hobbits and their eating habits, I remembered what Gollum called the sun, then it clicked. 'Or’ could also mean golden yellow. Like the sun!”
“So, 'Or is high’ is noon,” Oliver says.
“That’s kind of amazing, you two,” Lyla says, smiling as she shakes her head at the two.
“We make a good team,” Oliver whispers, smiling softly at Felicity, who smiles back at him as she nods. In a louder voice, he says turning to Diggle, "Now we have details, what do you want to do with it?“
Diggle meets Oliver’s eyes, clenching his jaws but nodding, at the feel of Lyla squeezing his thigh, his expression softens, "Let’s plan over dinner.”