Chapter Text
SATURDAY
“No, no, no, no…” Felicity shook her head as the words FLIGHT CANCELLED flashed on the screen in front of her. “This cannot be happening,” she muttered to herself.
Turning her head to look around the small airport she spotted an older gentleman who had fallen asleep on a bench down the hallway, a mom talking to someone on the phone while attempting to calm a crying baby, the group of Girl Scouts who had been on the plane with her with their assorted camping gear, a guy in a wrinkled business suit pacing along a wall and checking his phone every fifteen seconds, and one very bored looking woman sitting at a desk idly flipping through a tattered copy of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine and eating Cheetos.
Where in the world had she landed?
6 Hours Earlier….
“Are you sure you have everything you need?”
Her mom’s voice filtered in from the hallway as she checked her plane tickets and itinerary one last time before slipping them into her backpack.
“Yes Mom!” she hollered back.
“It just makes me so nervous to have you traveling so far on your own….”
Felicity rolled her eyes. She knew how to take care of herself, she had been doing it practically her entire life. Endless nights had been spent home alone, cooking herself dinner, figuring out her homework on her own, attempting to keep the tiny apartment clean, and tinkering with her computer, while her mom worked overtime shifts.
If all went as planned, this trip would secure the last scholarship she needed to be able to attend MIT in the fall and then her mom wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore.
And this trip needed to go as planned. She had scraped together the last of her savings and bought the cheapest plane tickets possible to get her to Massachusetts for the crucial, final interview and an inexpensive Airbnb rental. Failure to get accepted for the scholarship program would send her back to square one with no plan for what she was going to do for college and no money.
Not for the first time in her life had she wished that her father was around while she was preparing for her interview. Her mom had tried to help but the technical jargon had gone over her head and she’d quickly moved on to “more pressing matters,” like what she was going to wear for said interview.
She seriously doubted that the committee in charge of interviewing the applicants would care if she wore her blue blouse and pencil skirt versus her red dress and polka dot cardigan.
Besides, she was thinking of reinventing herself a little bit once she got to college.
Holding up a lock of her mousy brown hair and inspecting her reflection in the mirror she envisioned how it would look dyed darker. Maybe some purple streaked through it too...
Checking the time, she realized that she should have left three minutes and twenty-two seconds ago for the airport and she grabbed her new leather jacket--- well, new to her , one day she was going to be able to afford clothes that didn’t come from the thrift store, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and wheeled her small carry-on suitcase out into the hallway.
“I’m heading out!” she yelled in the general direction of the bathroom where she could smell hairspray emanating from.
“Wait, wait, wait---“ Her mom walked out, still in the process of getting ready, with half of her hair curled and teased and the other half flat. “Let me give you a hug before you go baby.”
She stepped into her mom’s arms for a crushing hug. “It’s only a few days, I’m not leaving forever,” Felicity reminded her as she refused to let go.
“Not leaving forever yet,” she corrected silently to herself.
“I know, I know.” Donna took a step back and Felicity adjusted her backpack strap while her mom kept talking. “I just can’t believe you’re growing up, I mean, eighteen already where did the time go? I’m not ready to think about losing you yet and what am I going to do here all by myself? And I---”
“I’ll call when I get there,” Felicity interrupted her, feeling the minutes tick away and her urgency to get to the airport increase. “Love you. Bye!”
Dashing out the door, suitcase in tow, she walked quickly down the street, arriving at the bus stop just as the next bus that would take her to the airport was pulling in. Off to a good start, hopefully the rest of her travels would go smoothly.
A direct flight from Las Vegas to the airport in Boston had been far too expensive for her, so she had managed to find an obscure route of connecting flights that kept the cost way down. Of course that meant stopping in some small towns that she had never even heard of, but the layovers weren’t too long and, as long as she ended up in Cambridge in time for her interview, she didn’t care what the traveling entailed.
She got through security without a hitch, and even though she had gotten to the airport later than she had planned, she still had some time to kill before she would board for her first flight. Once she found a seat in her terminal, she pulled her laptop out of her backpack and worked on some coding.
A little less than an hour later she found herself seated on the plane next to a woman who proceeded to share her entire (and highly dramatized if Felicity had to guess) life story with her for the two hours that they were in the air.
It was a good reminder of why she didn’t watch reality tv.
She was relieved that Colorado was her seatmate’s final destination and that there was no risk of being stuck with her when she boarded the tiny plane that was going to take her to a small town in Oklahoma where she would make her last exchange onto the plane that would take her to Massachusetts.
Or at least it was supposed to have taken her to Massachusetts… before the flight was cancelled and she found herself walking over to the Cheetos eating lady at the desk.
The woman didn’t even acknowledge her arrival and Felicity spoke up, “Excuse me…”
Dropping her magazine on the desk, the woman looked up at her with an exasperated expression, “Can I help you?”
“Um yeah… I, uh---“ Felicity was flustered for a moment by the woman’s rudeness but she gathered her thoughts quickly, “My 9:32pm flight to Boston was cancelled and I was wondering if there was going to be any other flights there in the next couple of hours that I could exchange my ticket for?”
An incredulous look passed over the woman’s face and she started laughing hysterically. The sound caught the attention of every person in the small space and Felicity looked around sheepishly, wondering if someone with a hidden camera was going to pop out and provide an explanation for whatever the frack was going on.
Finally the woman regained her composure, an amused smile still on her face, and refocused back on Felicity, “Oh honey. Where do you think you are? LAX? We only run about 7 commercial flights a week. With that flight cancelled…” She checked a pad of paper sitting on the desk, “…there’s nothing going out of here for another six days.”
Her interview was in four.
Tears threatened to escape and Felicity swallowed hard to keep herself from falling apart in public. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked in a small, quiet voice. “I need to get to Boston. Is there a place I could rent a car or something?”
She should’ve just driven to Massachusetts in the first place, but with her apparent luck her car probably would have broken down and left her stranded on the side of the road somewhere.
The amused smile slid from the woman’s face and it was replaced with a look that she supposed was sympathy. She shook her head, “No, I’m sorry honey. I really wish that I could do something for you, but I can transfer your ticket to the next flight out and this isn’t the worst town to be stranded in for a few days…”
Somehow she doubted that.
Where even was she again?
“…Willowdale isn’t big but it’s not exactly the middle of nowhere. We have some cute guys too.” The woman added with a wink.
Well that’s comforting , she thought to herself sarcastically.
The woman returned to her Cheetos and magazine and Felicity figured that was her cue to leave her alone.
Stepping away from the desk, her attempts to keep herself from bursting into tears in public were starting to fail. Exhaustion was setting in from the day of traveling and she couldn’t decide if she should go out and explore her options in the town or just crash on the floor in the airport.
One look at the dingy tile below her feet and she was heading for the door.
Naturally, it was raining outside. Because why wouldn’t it be raining?
On the bright side, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between raindrops and her tears.
Everything was supposed to have gone as planned, everything was going as planned , and yet here she was, stranded, with no idea how she was supposed to get to MIT in time for the interview that her entire future hung on the balance of.
She would find a way, she had to find a way, but right now she was too tired and too emotional to form any sort of plan.
Stuffing her leather jacket into her backpack to keep it from getting damaged by the rain, she started walking down the sidewalk. Most of the street was dark at 9:17pm, but she could see a building lit up in the distance and kept moving towards it.
By the time she arrived at the source of the light, a small diner, she was soaked completely through and desperate for some reprieve from the rain. The neon open sign flickered welcomingly and she pushed the door open, a tinkling bell announcing her entrance.
Looking around, it didn’t seem like anyone was working but the place was dry so, until someone came around and kicked her out, she was staying. She took a seat at the counter and rested her head on her forearms, letting the sobs she had been trying to hold in finally wrack her body.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she heard a voice.
“Uhhh miss? We’re closed…”
When she looked up she was met by a handsome face with bright blue eyes that grew shadowed with concern as he took in the disaster that she could only imagine her face looked like with her wet hair plastered to her forehead, her glasses askew on the top of her head, and eyes tired from crying.
Lifting a hand to wipe her eyes, she sniffled and replied weakly, “The open sign was on.”
He glanced over at the door and shook his head, muttering to himself, “He told me he was going to take care of locking up…”
She watched him as he walked over and switched off the glowing sign. If she had to guess, she would say that he was probably a few years older than her. A slightly wrinkled, white t-shirt was a contrast against tanned, strong arms and there were various stains all down the front of his apron. His hair was a little messy and looked like it was in need of a cut that he couldn’t be bothered with but it really only added to the effortlessly handsome appearance he was pulling off quite well.
Well, the lady at the airport definitely wasn’t lying about the cute guys. At the very least, there was one in this town.
For a brief moment she thought that he looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t figure out why. Realizing that there was basically zero chance that she had ever met him, she dismissed the thought.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked, glancing back at her before pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and locking the front door.
A small laugh escaped her at his inquiry. She was feeling about a million miles from home.
“No. I’m not supposed to be here,” she answered with a shake of her head.
She thought she heard him mutter, “That makes two of us.” But she couldn’t be sure.
He walked back behind the counter and she bit her lip nervously, waiting for him to kick her out.
“Don’t worry, I’m not making you go back out in the rain,” he reassured her, almost as if he had read her thoughts. “I’m just doing some prep work for tomorrow. It’s nice and warm in the kitchen if you want to come hang out…”
His voice trailed off as he disappeared into what she assumed was the kitchen.
A small part of her said that maybe she should just go find a hotel or some other place to stay the night instead of wasting time here, but she was cold and disinterested in wandering through the unfamiliar streets in the dark. Maybe cute guy could point her in the right direction when he left for the night.
Slipping off of the stool, she walked over to the kitchen door and tentatively pushed it open. Delicious smells hit her nose and the heat emanating from the stove and ovens wrapped her up in a warm hug.
Cute guy was hovering over a cutting board, bowls full of neatly chopped vegetables on the counter beside him, as he diced tomatoes.
He looked up at her arrival and smiled, tipping his head in the direction of a stool, “You can sit there if you want. Are you hungry? There’s some leftover chocolate cake from today and, not to brag, but I made it and it’s pretty good.”
She returned his smile, “I would love some.”
Her stomach echoed her answer with a growl and he chuckled as he wiped his hands on his apron and walked over to one of the fridges. Pulling out a tray containing the cake, he cut her a large slice and dusted it with powdered sugar before handing it to her with a fork.
As soon as the plate was in her hands, she dug in hungrily, licking the chocolate icing from her lips and humming in approval, “The best cake I’ve ever had. Granted, I haven’t eaten in…. almost 5 hours now I think, but still, it’s perfect.”
“Thank you.” Returning to his workstation, he spoke up again a minute later, “So what’s your name?”
“Felicity. Felicity Smoak.”
“Felicity,” he repeated and she decided that she quite liked the way he said her name, the way he took his time on each syllable. “You want to tell me why you were crying earlier?”
She tilted her head, “Shouldn’t you tell me your name first?”
“Oliver.” An unreadable expression passed over his face. “Just Oliver.”
“Well, Oliver---“ She sighed, “It’s kind of a long story.”
He jerked his thumb at the stove behind him, “I’ve got a sauce, two soups, and plenty of chopping to finish. If you need to talk about it, I’ve got time to listen.”
It probably would help her figure out what she should do next if she recounted the events that had left her stranded in middle-of-nowhere, USA. Plus, Oliver seemed like he might be able to be more comforting than the woman at the airport. The cake had definitely already made her feel better.
And so, she launched into the story of how she was being considered for a full scholarship to MIT. How she had scoured the internet for this random flight itinerary to travel extremely cheaply because the final phase of her application was an in-person interview in Massachusetts. An interview that under no circumstance could be rescheduled or done via Skype as the bold print in the letter had made clear. How she should have been in the air at the moment, but the flight that was meant to be the final leg of her journey had gotten canceled, leaving her stranded here in Oklahoma. A long way from Boston. He listened quietly, occasionally turning to stir something on the stove or walking over to pull baked goods from the large oven. She had a feeling that she might have lost him a bit when she went off on a tangent about the software she designed that had caught the board at MIT’s eye, but she appreciated that he at least made an effort to seem interested.
“I just really, really need everything to work out with this scholarship,” she concluded, glancing at the stove clock and realizing she had been babbling on for almost an hour. “Attending MIT is my dream, the key to my future, and I’m so afraid that I’m going to end up a cocktail waitress in Vegas like my mom with no way out if I miss this opportunity. So, tomorrow I guess I’m going to try and figure out what my options are. Thankfully, because of how my flights worked out, I was supposed to have had some extra days to spend time touring the town around the college and the interview itself isn’t until Wednesday, so I still have some time to figure out how to get there in time for what matters. Right now I just want to sleep and pretend this day didn’t happen.”
He frowned sympathetically, “I’m sorry. That’s got to be a stressful predicament to be in, I hope you’re able to sort things out in the morning. You want to peel some potatoes? It can be quite therapeutic…”
She shrugged, “Why not? Although I have to warn you, my cooking experience is pretty much limited to coffee, microwaving ramen noodles, and opening cartons of take-out.”
He laughed, “Well I assure you, you can’t screw this up too badly. They don’t have to look pretty either, because they’re going to be mashed potatoes tomorrow.”
Accepting a bag of potatoes from him, she watched as he gave a quick demonstration of how to use the peeler most efficiently before handing it to her so she could get to work. While she didn’t find it as soothing as typing out long strings of code, it did help keep her mind occupied from focusing on how all her carefully laid plans were crumbling around her.
“So… do you know where you’re going to sleep tonight?” he asked hesitantly, breaking the silence that had settled over the kitchen while they worked.
She looked up at him, “A hotel?”
“Uhhh…”
“There are no hotels here,” she deadpanned.
“Oh no, there’s one, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s a little… questionable.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Are you suggesting that I curl up in one of the booths out there?”
“No… But you could stay at my place,” he offered. “I have a sleeper sofa.”
Her “stranger danger” warning bells, that her mom had ingrained in her from when she was young and had to spend a lot of time unsupervised due to her crazy work hours, went off at his suggestion. Probably a little later than they should have, seeing as she had already been alone with him for over an hour.
“I just met you though,” she pointed the potato peeler at him. “What if you’re planning on luring me back to where your murder weapons are?”
He laughed, “Why would I have wasted a perfectly good piece of chocolate cake on someone that I was going to kill in their sleep?”
She held in her own laugh and narrowed her eyes at him skeptically, “Serial killers aren’t rational.”
He rolled his eyes, “You can take your chances with the Motel 6 or my apartment, it’s up to you. But I promise I’m harmless.”
She smiled teasingly, “Alright. I guess I believe you.”
After twenty-five minutes of more work, Oliver announced that he was finished and he showed her where to put her peeled potatoes before she grabbed her suitcase from where she had left it out in the main dining room, he hung his apron on a hook, and they headed out for the night. It turned out that he walked to work because his apartment was only a block away, so they made their way down the quiet sidewalk under the light of the stars and a few dim street lamps. Thankfully, the rain had stopped at this point and the cool night air felt good after the kitchen, which had grown stuffy after a while.
Once inside his apartment, she glanced around at what was a slightly smaller version of her and her mom’s apartment. The main room consisted of a kitchen area and a space where the couch and tv were set up. On one wall there were was a door that led to what she assumed was his bedroom and another to the bathroom. He offered the shower to her, showing her where the spare towels were, and she dug her toiletry bag out of her suitcase. Stepping under the warm spray of water, feeling sleepiness sink in, she quickly washed her hair and body. The rain had gotten rid of the grime on her skin from being in planes and airports for most of the day but it still felt good to lather up with soap.
Hair toweled off and pajamas on, she walked out into the main room where Oliver had pulled out the sleeper sofa and made it up with sheets, a quilt, and pillows. All in a bright floral print.
She ran her hand along the quilt and looked over at him, “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a guy who likes flowers on his bedspread.”
He shook his head and reached for a picture frame on the table next to the sofa, “My sister Thea, she’s twelve, this is where she sleeps when she comes to visit.”
Taking the frame from him, she looked at the picture of Oliver carrying his sister piggy-back style down a beach. No wonder he had been so kind to her, she had probably set off his big brother instincts.
“Awww, well that makes more sense.” She put the picture frame back and turned to face him. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to do all of this for me I mean you just met me and maybe I’m actually the serial killer, have you considered that? And---“
“Felicity,” he interrupted her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You had a rough day, I’m glad I could help.”
“Okay. I’m not a serial killer,” she clarified.
“I’m glad.” He squeezed her shoulder, “Get some sleep.”
He turned to leave her and she heard the shower turn on a few moments later as she was settling into bed. Realizing that her mom was awaiting a call on her arrival in Massachusetts she dialed her number and left a voicemail explaining that she was fine and would call again in the morning, but avoiding the topic of her current predicament. When she hung up, she pulled her laptop out of her backpack for a little “research” before she closed her eyes for the night. She might not be worried about her host being a serial killer, but she was curious. The longer she spent with him, the more she was convinced that she had definitely seen his face before.