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When he opened the door and entered their current hotel room he didn’t expect her to be up already. There went his plan of quickly putting away their groceries and joining her in bed again and having his wicked way with her. Although he was sure that under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have the slightest problem in getting her back to bed (or, say, get to what ever surface lent itself best to what he wanted to do with her), the angry muttering made him rethink that. And not to mention the way she kept angrily stabbing the tablet she had in her hands with her very pointy fingers. He didn’t envy the device, he knew what it felt like to be jabbed with her dagger-like fingernails.
“What has that tablet done to deserve such a treatment from you?” If he only looked at one of her techy things the wrong way Oliver would feel her wrath, but apparently everything was different when it was her mistreating her tablet. Her angry muttering stopped momentarily, but that did not keep her from furiously tapping the tablet.
“How fast can you pack our bags?”
Whatever he expected, that was not it.
For a moment fear gripped him. Was their something wrong with Thea? Or her mom? Starling - scratch that - Star City?
“The wifi is not working.”
And with those 5 words his heart rate slowed again and if he didn’t know better, he would have laughed out loud. Only Felicity could make problems with the wifi sound like the end of the world. Although she would argue that no wifi really equaled the end of the world.
He sat down next to her on the couch and gently tried to pry the tablet from her fingers. Without much success. For such a tiny person her fingers were not only amazingly pointy but also exceedingly strong. “Okay,” he said, giving up on getting the tablet away from her.
“No, Oliver, it’s not okay!” If looks could kill he knew he would have dropped dead right than and there.
Taking a deep breath he tried again. “Tell me again, what’s the problem?”
Exasperated with his inability to see the problem, she repeated, “The wifi is not working.”
“I already know that, sweetheart.” Her eyes narrowed again and Oliver gulped. They both knew he only called her sweetheart when he thought she was unreasonable. Which, admittedly, in his opinion she sometimes was when it came to her tech stuff. “Do you know what’s wrong with it?”
Felicity huffed. That’s like asking him if he knew how to nock an arrow.
“Can you fix it?” As if that question were better. Of course she did. But their was a slight problem.
“They won’t let me have a look at their set up.” Which was a personal affront for her. Who wouldn’t jump at the chance to have their tech problems solved?
“You asked them already.” Oliver didn’t know why that even surprised him.
“Of course!” It really shouldn’t. “The receptionist looked at me as if I were crazy.” He tried not to say anything. “They won’t let me fix it, which one of us is crazy?!” Well, an argument could be made that Felicity was the crazy one, but Oliver wasn’t masochistic enough. “The manager might have threatened to kick us out if I tried anything.” Her voice grew quiet at the last part and the only way he was able to react was to raise an eyebrow, while taking a deep breath.
“We didn’t have wifi the few days we spent in the mountains, either,” Oliver tried to reason with her, knowing that sometimes it was easier not to make her explain her every action. He also mentally planned to apologize to both the receptionist and the manager.
“But the Great British Bake Off wasn’t on then!” she shouted as if that explained everything.
And to some people it did. “This is about the Bake Off.”
“Yes, Oliver!” Finally he got it. “I need to know if Mat and Tamal and Nadiya and Flora and Paul make it to the next round. What they showed as preview didn’t look good for Mat.” For a moment he felt a bit jealous. Why was she so invested in those people’s lives? “I need wifi, Oliver. Like I need live.”
“To watch a baking show.” He was careful not to phrase it like a question, when she was finally pleased with him because he understood her problem. Not that he really did (he really didn’t), but whatever made her happy.
“Not a baking show. The baking show.” Oh yes. “Why won’t they let me fix it?” She sounded as if the BBC had decided to cancel Doctor Who, but he could already see her mind working.
“Can we go to a coffee shop to watch it there?” There they were again, the sad puppy eyes. They always did him in.
That’s how Oliver Queen found himself at a nearby coffee shop, arm around his girlfriend, who was happily - and probably also slightly illegal - watching the Great British Bake Off. He wouldn’t change a thing.