a/n: this little plot bunny has been stuck in my head ever since felicity and laurel met, so yee. not anything special whatsoever, but i've had a million ideas for this fandom swimming in my head for the past couple of weeks, so i thought i'd get the simplest one out of the way first. this takes place around my ideal season 4-ish. also, team arrow feels. story title comes from state of grace by taylor swift.
these are the hands of fate
"Felicity Smoak."
She looks up from decoding the usual something-or-other that Oliver needs decoded to find Laurel Lance glancing down at her with a soft smile on her intimidatingly beautiful face. Felicity locks her tablet and briefly arranges her lunch and paperwork around her desk in an attempt to make it look more presentable, all to no avail, of course.
"Ms. Lance, erm, I'm not sure whether Oliver, I mean Mr. Queen, is in the building, but I can assure you he's not down here," she sputters, forcing a laugh. "The IT department? I mean, c'mon."
She inwardly winces at her inability to spew a formidable lie when faced with one of Starling City's elite. Laurel blinks and opens her mouth as if to say something before closing it once more, glancing at Felicity with an expression akin to amusement.
"You seem a little on edge."
"No!" she yells, wincing at the volume of her own voice before relenting, "well, sort of. It's not exactly comforting to have one of Starling City's most notorious attorneys looming over your desk. Is this about the pack of gum I stole when I was nine? Because I swear on Doctor Who that I was pressured into doing so and I haven't stolen since. I even return borrowed pencils; that Juicy Fruit was not worth the permanent scarring to my psyche."
She laughs, a light, melodic sound that makes Felicity's fragile self-esteem cave in on itself a bit. If there's one thing to further convince a girl she'll never have a chance with their slightly unhinged billionaire vigilante boss, who just so happens to have a body that puts Adonis to shame and a smile so luminous it could make angels cry, it's their graceful ex-girlfriend indiscriminately flaunting her perfection in front of them.
Nevermind the fact that she'd been back together with Tommy for the past several months and seemed to be happier than ever; as far as Felicity was convinced, there was never anything that anyone could do that would amount to Laurel in Oliver's eyes. She bites back a sigh and restrains from asking Laurel to borrow her copy of How To Snag Oliver Queen For Dummies.
"You're quirky. I can see why Ollie likes you."
Felicity's mouth clamps shut and her posture goes rigid, readying herself for any questions the lawyer might throw her way pertaining to Oliver Queen, The Hood, and everything in between. Her immediate apprehension does nothing to slow the blush that spreads across her cheeks at Laurel's inaccurate observation, and her reaction fails to escape the brunette's notice.
"Um, Oliver and I aren't, err, Mr. Queen doesn't...uh, what?"
Laurel just smiles, her pale blue eyes containing a knowledge of some sort that makes Felicity increasingly uneasy; she really hates mysteries. "Yes you are, and yes, he does."
Her keyboard suddenly becomes very interesting, and her eyes trace over the letters and symbols while her fingers fidget beneath her desk in ruthless anxiety. Having the inkling of a possibility of her and Oliver being something more than two proper nouns separated by a conjunction showcased in front of her had the ability to wilt away at her confidence in a way nothing else could.
Call her a hopeless romantic. Personally, she thinks she's just hopeless.
"What makes you say so?"
Laurel grins, apparently joyous to be getting through to her in the slightest, and Felicity can't help but wonder why exactly Oliver's ex-girlfriend is so persistent in her attempt to convince Felicity that Oliver, Laurel's ex-boyfriend and apparent soulmate, is attracted to her.
Something doesn't quite add up, and before she can voice her suspicions, Laurel answers.
"Let's call it intuition."
She breathes a humorless laugh. "With all due respect Ms. Lance, you are so far off."
Laurel arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest, and Felicity absentmindedly feels herself sitting up straighter, momentarily intimidated by her regal you-will-crumble-under-my-lawyer-superpowers demeanor. "Really? Because Oliver doesn't typically associate himself with people responsible for hooking up his internet router when said task is done."
Felicity's mouth opens for a nanosecond before closing it again, at a loss. "Be that as it may, our relationship is strictly platonic. And that's how it's going to remain," she whispers, her voice carrying a mixture if disappointment and reluctant acceptance.
The tilt of Laurel's lips transforms from amusement into compassion with a blink of an eye, and Felicity inhales sharply. The brunette leans forward and regards her with a sympathetic gaze, and Felicity curses her niceties to the deepest pits of hell.
What fair is it to envy a woman when, for the life of you, you can't hate her?
"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Felicity," she starts, and she's either unaware of the way Felicity is relentlessly gnawing on her bottom lip, or she's just politely choosing to ignore it. "I've been in love with Oliver Queen. I know what it looks like." She takes her slightly unsteady hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before retrieving her messenger bag from Felicity's desk. "And please, call me Laurel."
With that, she saunters out of her office, exuding all the confidence a woman of her caliber should, leaving Felicity gaping after her for a full minute before she receives a text alert that reels her back into her state of mind, which only becomes more frazzled when she realizes the message she's just received is from none other than her supposed admirer.
Come to the foundry. ASAP.
She snorts before sending out a quick reply of compliance, gathering her things, cursing the butterflies that gather in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of seeing Oliver, in all his muscle-rippling, tortured-soul, justice-seeking beauty.
She takes a moment to thank whatever omnipotent power is behind Laurel's thinking Oliver fancied her and not the other way around, because if she'd traipsed in there with an accusation thrown at Felicity about having feelings for her boss-slash-partner-slash-friend, she'd have raised her hands and gone willingly, pleading the fifth all the while.
Oliver, on the other hand, has a type. A type that consists of women like Laurel, McKenna, and Helena. Strong, graceful women who stand for what they believe is right with every fiber of their being; they kick ass and have nothing to show for it, with their flawless allure remaining intact.
Getting in her car, Felicity sighs and rests her head against the steering wheel, wincing as she remembers how she fell flat on her face when simply retrieving Oliver's bow for him in the foundry.
As if Oliver Queen would ever see her as anything other than his personal tech geek.
.
His phone vibrates against his palm within seconds.
On my way. See you in a few.
Oliver grins, taking a minute to survey his handiwork.
Ever since Felicity joined the team, she's been consistently encouraging the foundation of a more homey vibe in the "Arrow Cave", as she liked to call it. As time passed and Oliver felt the grittiness begin to ebb away the more time he spent with her, he'd indulged her, adding a couch here, a table there, and two more cots in case Diggle or Felicity needed to stay the night.
With Diggle's assistance (it kind of worries him how readily his bodyguard agreed to help him with his personal mission, muttering something about "finally" and "idiot" and "Merlyn owes me 20 bucks") he'd managed to turn the space into something more than reputable for a first date, with the dimmed lights and cozy furniture and never-ending stock of red wine, at Felicity's request, of course.
"Alright, time for you to skedaddle."
Diggle grabs his coat from Felicity's desk chair, chuckling as he tugs it over his broad frame. "While I'm happy that you grew out of your Laurel-bubble long enough to see what was right in front of you, why didn't you let her in that this is a date? Give her actual time to prepare herself for the onslaught that is dating Oliver Queen?"
Oliver chuckles, pondering the question. In all honesty, the spontaneity of his first date with Felicity was necessary to his own peace of mind. If he'd informed her of his plans, she'd come dressed up, in a tantalizing dress that would showcase the superficial beauty layered beneath her glasses and low ponytails.
While he appreciates nothing more than the sight of a breathtaking woman who attempts to look like that solely for him, he wants to be with Felicity as he knows her, not an altered version of the only woman he can truly be himself around.
He shrugs. "I like surprises."
Diggle gives him a disbelieving look, seeing through his pretense easily. "Uh-huh, sure." Before bounding up the stairs, he pauses and turns back to Oliver with an accusatory finger aimed in his direction. "If you hurt her, I will find a way to make your life hell, Queen."
He nods understandingly and doesn't mention that he wouldn't need to do anything to make his life miserable if he ever allowed harm to come to Felicity, physical or emotional, by his hand or otherwise. With one last nod, Diggle keys the code for the side door and leaves the foundry.
Before forgetting, he sends a quick thank you message to Laurel. He'd felt somewhat guilty for just deciding to arrange a date with Felicity without her prior knowledge, so he'd asked Laurel to drop by her office and do a bit of recon. He figured that hearing about his obvious (to everyone but Felicity, apparently) attraction to her from the woman that, up until now, had meant the most to him would be able to sway her mind in the right direction, since he's fully aware she foolishly believes he still has feelings for Laurel.
He'd wanted to scream at her for being so blind, unable to see that he'd ended things with Laurel because he was done taking the easy way out, done being afraid of admitting that he loves Felicity and allowing himself to be reverted back into pretending to love Laurel.
He thinks he'll save that conversation for a later time.
Oliver rubs his hands together in anticipation, unable to resist the genuine laugh that spurts from his lips when he imagines Felicity's shell-shocked reaction as to why he initially called her over here. He mentally amends the scenario by telling himself she shouldn't be too surprised.
They've been a long time in the making.
"Felicity Smoak, prepare to be wooed."