Rumor Has It
By Bindy417
Summary: Rumor has it that Queen Consolidated CEO Oliver Queen is having a steamy affair with his new executive assistant, Felicity Smoak. Set in Season 2, this collection of key moments told through outsiders' points of view chronicles how the office gossip of Oliver and Felicity's "relationship" began and spread throughout the company like wildfire.
Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or any of its characters. They belong to The CW and DC Comics.
A/N: Hey guys, so this idea has been rattling around in my head for a while now. I tweeted last week that I wished we could've seen Season 2 from other people's perspectives to learn how the Olicity affair rumors got started. It's one of my favorite aspects of Season 2. Inspiration recently struck, and I decided to go ahead and start this mini fic. It'll be five chapters total, featuring different characters observing Olicity. Special thank you to SassySnow1988 for reading the first draft and giving me valuable feedback. I hope you all enjoy it. Please read and review!
Chapter 1: Short Skirts, Long Looks
Wednesday was by far Stacey Stanzler's favorite day of the week. It could've been attributed to the fact that it was free bagel day in the office; that, for some reason, her inbox wasn't usually as full; or that she and her girlfriends always met up at the bar around the corner after work for hump day happy hour—in which drinks were half price (yay!)—to share and vent about the state of their personal lives and burgeoning careers. They were all valid reasons for her uplifted spirits. None, however, were the reason Stacey was so excited for it to be Wednesday. No, the actual source of her eagerness wouldn't be appearing until approximately—she checked the clock in the break room—ten minutes. That's when she'd be following her boss—the vice president of marketing for the Applied Sciences division at Queen Consolidated—up to the executive level, where they'd have their weekly meeting with the CEO and a few heads of other departments to discuss ad campaigns and PR for upcoming product launches.
Aside from the minutes Stacey would have to record and then type to send out to the group as a recap, the meeting itself was rather dull. The real highlight wasn't in what was being discussed but who it was being discussed with. Oliver Queen, the new CEO of QC, was as sexy in person as he was on the tabloid and magazine covers that lined the checkout aisles in the supermarket. While other men were considered eye candy, he was a full-course meal.
Although Oliver was a few years older than her, Stacey knew all about his reputation. He'd been the heir to the Queen fortune and a typical billionaire playboy when he was younger—constantly partying and getting into trouble with both booze and women. That was until he and his father, Robert Queen, the former CEO, were involved in a horrible accident at sea. Their yacht sank in a storm, and authorities believed everyone perished. Then, five years later, Oliver was miraculously found and rescued. It was all anyone could talk about for months. Everyone waited for Oliver to make some kind of statement or do sit-down interviews to reveal what had happened. But other than the minor details he gave of the shipwreck at his court appearance—in which his legally dead status was reversed—nothing else had come out.
There'd been one incident at the grand opening of the new Robert Queen Applied Sciences building. Oliver had shown up and made a drunken speech about how he wasn't his father and didn't want to follow in his footsteps by taking over at QC. It'd been a minor scandal until he was accused not long after of being a dangerous vigilante known as The Hood who targeted the rich and roamed the streets fighting crime. It was ridiculous in Stacey's opinion, and she wasn't surprised when Oliver had quickly been released and all charges were dropped.
He wasn't in the papers again until The Undertaking occurred. A man-made earthquake rocked the entire city, which turned out to be an evil plot hatched by Malcolm Merlyn—an old Queen family friend and businessman—and Oliver's mother, Moira Queen. Although Moira claimed she only went along with it because she and her children's lives were threatened, the middle-aged matriarch was currently on trial for conspiracy and multiple counts of murder. Her charges and absence as CEO left QC vulnerable, and the company was almost taken over by Stellmoor International.
Not much had been heard from Oliver over the summer. After the media reported that Tommy Merlyn, his best friend, died in The Undertaking, Oliver seemed to disappear completely. Only a couple of months ago he'd returned to Starling City and secured funds to save his family's company. He'd gone from wanting nothing to do with his family's legacy to stepping up and taking it over completely. Well, maybe not completely since he owned the same amount of stock as Stellmoor's vice president of acquisitions, Isabel Rochev. Oliver was still CEO, but Isabel retained a say in how QC was run. Isabel was a smart businesswoman with an icy and often disdainful demeanor. Stacey liked to watch and see what she could learn from her professionally, but she mostly tried to avoid dealing with Isabel directly as much as possible.
Oliver wasn't as proficient in business. He often missed meetings or arrived to them late. He also kept odd hours, which meant almost all correspondence went through his assistant, Felicity Smoak. The petite blonde had previously worked in the IT department. As such her promotion had come as a shock to many, and it wasn't long before rumors started that something was going on between Oliver and her. The few times he'd visited QC in the past, he'd been spotted either going in or coming out of her work space.
Stacey could understand why some people thought that considering Oliver's reputation, but she personally didn't buy into it. Felicity might've been a pretty blonde, but she was far from Oliver's type. She constantly had her hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, and she wore nerdy black-rimmed glasses. Not to mention that she talked a mile a minute and way too much. Felicity was a horrible babbler. Stacey couldn't ever imagine Oliver wanting to stay around her for too long, but she supposed Felicity's overactive verbal ability came in handy when dealing with people demanding his attention.
Stacey had also heard that Felicity refused to even get Oliver coffee. Angela, another assistant in accounting, said she'd run into Felicity at the coffee machine once. When she'd made a joke about them slaving away just so their bosses could get their caffeine fix, Felicity had muttered that the coffee was for herself and if Oliver wanted a cup, then he could get up off of his physically-fit butt and pour it himself.
Angela assumed the "physically-fit butt" remark had to mean the two were sleeping together. How else would she know what his butt was like? Stacey, nevertheless, reminded her that it didn't take a genius to figure out that Oliver Queen had an amazing ass. The way his broad frame filled out his suit was proof enough. It wasn't too tight, and yet left little to the imagination. And if they were having an affair, why would Felicity be so disgruntled about getting him coffee? She'd be used to giving him a lot of things…
In addition to her refusing to make Oliver coffee—which Stacey never would've been able get away with if it was her boss—there were other odd instances, too. Felicity often zoned out at her desk while she typed. It would take a few tries for visitors to get her attention. Then there were the inopportune times she'd interrupt Oliver, whether he was chatting casually with employees or in a meeting, to tell him something completely obscure. Stacey had witnessed it a few times herself. Once, Felicity had cut into a conversation between her boss and Oliver to inform him that his bodyguard, Mr. Diggle, had an update on artwork he was interested in. Something about a bronze tiger statue and white china. Why Mr. Diggle—who was an incredibly large and intimidating man—would be looking into fancy art collections and need Oliver's immediate attention was beyond Stacey's understanding. Oliver appeared to take it in stride, but she doubted his patience would hold. She'd bet good money that Felicity Smoak would be gone before the end of the year.
That's exactly why Stacey did everything she could to impress Oliver—or "Mr. Queen" as she called him in person—during the weekly meeting. When she brought coffee to her boss, she made sure to get one for Oliver, too. She handed it to him directly just so he was aware that she was what an assistant should be—thoughtful, attentive, and prepared. One time his pen had run out of ink, and she'd given him an extra that she always had on her.
Stacey also sent him the meeting minutes personally. Sometimes in the message she'd add a compliment about a point he'd brought up. He at least knew her name now, because he'd smiled and greeted her with it last week. Okay, so maybe he'd actually called her Tracey, but he'd been close. It was slow but still promising progress. She wanted to be at the top of his mind in the event he needed a new—better—assistant.
Being executive assistant to the CEO was no small thing. Having a direct line to Oliver Queen would do wonders for her career. If she did well—and she would—Stacey could have any job she wanted in the company after a couple of years. And if during all those long hours working together Oliver just so happened to fall madly in love with her and propose on the spot, she'd be okay with that, too.
Stacey was jolted from her fantasy when the elevator dinged. She stepped out onto the executive floor and approached the double glass doors leading to Oliver's private offices. Felicity, unsurprisingly, typed at her desk with a pair of headphones in her ears. Stacey didn't even bother saying hello. She simply rolled her eyes at the blonde's obliviousness and went on her way.
The other members of the meeting were already in the conference room next to Oliver's office. Stacey felt a pang of disappointment upon seeing Oliver's seat empty. He was running late, hence preventing her from directly handing him his coffee. A quick thinker, Stacey grabbed a post-it and jotted down a friendly little note and signed it. She stuck the coffee cup on top to make sure Oliver would see it.
Isabel cleared her throat, and the room settled. Almost the entire table was occupied, making Oliver's empty chair that much more obvious. The stern brunette reached for the phone and paged Felicity. Her first couple of attempts at gaining the preoccupied blonde's attention were futile. Isabel's voice was normally quiet and steady; her third attempt was still rather low, but the equivalent of shouting for Isabel.
"Oh, uh, what?" Felicity finally answered. She sounded as if she was coming out of a trance.
What could possibly require her to concentrate that hard? Shouldn't scheduling be a breeze for someone who was supposedly so smart?
"Where is Mr. Queen? Will he be joining us?" Isabel's questions sounded more like accusations.
Stacey watched through the glass as Felicity checked her phone. "Mr. Queen is on his way. He had some business to attend to with…um…a friend who's—you know what, never mind. He just walked in." Her relief was evident.
On his way to the conference room, Oliver stopped at Felicity's desk. He held out a bag of Big Belly Burger to her. How sweet! Stacey wished her boss would bring her lunch. Felicity didn't know how lucky she was, and it just made the fact that she couldn't get the guy a decent cup of coffee even worse.
As Oliver placed the bag on her desk, he leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he was saying brought a smile to the blonde's face, which she quickly hid when he pulled back. Her brow scrunched in a serious frown, and she nodded back at him.
Just as Oliver turned to leave, Felicity got to her feet and beckoned him forward. She reached up to fix his tie and patted it in place. They stared silently at each other, and somehow it looked like they were having another whole conversation. It lasted longer than was probably appropriate, and Stacey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Why did she feel like it was an intrusion to watch?
A second later, Felicity returned to her desk and began typing in another furious frenzy on her computer. Oliver finally made it to the conference room.
"Sorry I'm late," Oliver apologized and took his seat. "Other urgent business ran long."
"Felicity said you were with a friend," Isabel stated, staring him down.
"A friend who owns a business," he vaguely replied. "Let's begin, shall we?"
"Did you have time to read through the P-and-L reports I sent you?"
"I skimmed through them."
Isabel wasn't happy with that answer either, but the meeting at last commenced. In between taking the minutes, Stacey kept peeking over at Oliver. He had yet to touch his coffee or read her note. His attention shifted between the papers in front of him and the clock on the wall. He'd just arrived. Was he already so eager to leave?
"Ugh, sorry. Either the computer or projector doesn't seem to be working," said Greg, the product manager of Applied Sciences. He had some slides to share, but the screen remained blank. No signal came through.
"Stacey," her boss, Edmond, called, "maybe you can figure out the problem."
Stacey was thrilled. Another moment to shine in front of Oliver and show her usefulness. She sprang out of her seat and began to fiddle with the laptop. She'd have the problem fixed in no time. A couple of minutes later, however, Isabel let out an impatient huff and still nothing projected onto the screen. Stacey felt a mild sense of panic.
"It's probably the projector. I can call maintenance to come and take a look," she suggested.
"No need. I'll get Felicity. IT is her area of expertise," Oliver stated and pressed the call button on the phone.
Stacey immediately deflated, though she was careful to keep her expression polite, and retook her seat at the center of the table. Unlike Isabel, Oliver quickly gained Felicity's attention. She entered the conference room and, after hearing the problem, set to work. The previous conversation continued as they all waited. Instead of looking at the clock, Oliver's gaze kept shifting to Felicity. He must've been wondering why it was taking her so long.
"I already checked the computer." Stacey tried not to smirk. So much for the former IT girl being good with technology. "It's on the right setting."
"I'm checking for viruses and errors," Felicity answered, barely sparing her a glance.
The blonde then stretched across the table, and Stacey frowned. What was she doing? With her butt partially in the air and her skirt—somewhat short, in Stacey's opinion—riding up, she looked absolutely obscene. Stacey glanced at Oliver, expecting to see him cringing or rubbing his hand over his eyes in irritation or embarrassment. Instead, she found him staring—directly at Felicity's butt. It was a quick once-over, from bottom to top and back again, but she'd caught it. Stacey's pen paused on the paper.
The blonde had been reaching for the projector control across the table. She pushed a few buttons and nodded, mostly to herself, when nothing happened. Turning to Oliver—and interrupting Isabel mid-sentence—she said, "The computer is bug free. I think it's the projector itself. Nothing is wrong with the computer setup. The signal is going out, but the machine isn't picking it up. I can fix it, though."
Isabel's eyes narrowed, and she curtly replied, "Then do it."
Felicity nodded and smiled politely in return, though it was clearly strained. The other gossip floating around was that Isabel and Felicity didn't like each other. Stacey figured it was safe to assume that was true. The blonde walked to the center of the table, right next to Stacey, and proceeded to take her shoes off.
"Felicity, what are you doing?" Oliver questioned when she suddenly lifted herself onto the table. Isabel was interrupted yet again, and Stacey paused in her note taking. The rest of the room looked on in curious silence.
"I have to look inside the projector." The small box was suspended over the center of the table. "Therefore, I need to be on the table. And I can't effectively balance on the table if I'm in high heels."
"Be careful," Oliver warned before jumping out of his seat to join her. He stood as close to Felicity as the wide table would allow. Although his hands remained by his sides, his body looked ready to spring into action at any moment should she lose her balance.
"I don't need the projector that badly," Greg piped up.
"I'm already up here," Felicity replied. "Besides, it saves me from having to create another office maintenance request that'll most likely be ignored." She opened the panel door to the projector and started fiddling with some wires as Edmond took his turn to speak.
"Pen," Felicity said to Oliver. Without any explanation needed, he handed her one of Stacey's extras on the table. She used it to move around some wires. Despite the conversation going on around him, Oliver never took his eyes off of Felicity. Stacey begrudgingly jotted down more notes, praying her utter annoyance wasn't so obvious.
"Yes, got it!" Felicity exclaimed a couple of minutes later. She fist-pumped into the air. The picture on the screen flickered before the presentation appeared.
She smiled down at Oliver, who was already smiling up at her. His pride was evidenced by his wide, dimpled grin. Stacey had never seen him light up like that, let alone smile so broadly.
"Nice work," Oliver complimented and reached up to grab her. There was no hesitation or awkwardness at all to figure out the mechanics of the situation. He took hold of Felicity's waist while she placed her hands on his shoulders. He gently helped her down off of the table, their bodies brushing together just before her feet touched the ground.
"Uh, thanks," Felicity murmured and bit her lip. Unless it was from being so close to the hot, running projector, her pink cheeks gave away her blush.
Oliver didn't say anything. With a brief nod, he took a step back. But since Stacey was sitting right next to them, she noticed from her angle that he didn't completely let Felicity go. His hand remained on the small of her back as she slipped her shoes on and steadied herself. Felicity moved to leave while Oliver returned to his seat.
"If there are no more interruptions—" Isabel began.
"Oh, Oliv—" Felicity cleared her throat and started again. "Mr. Queen, one quick matter." She placed a hand on his shoulder and halted him. "That toy charity I researched will probably be needing more dolls. It's about the time they'll be putting in another order. Should I reach out to your friend again to discuss the details of the materials? I think I might have a way to prevent him from going overkill."
Stacey stared between the pair. It was the same look she'd witnessed before the meeting, when the two seemed to be having a conversation without actually saying anything.
"Yes," Oliver finally said. "Set up another meeting later this evening. It can't wait."
"Why, Mr. Queen, I had no idea you have such an interest in children's toys. Although I would've pegged you for a Tonka Truck man rather than baby dolls," Isabel chided, earning low titters from the others. "If it can't wait, I assume you'll at least be on time for that meeting."
Despite the dig, Oliver's smile was as charming as ever. "Just doing my part to help revive the city."
"One dollhouse at a time."
"I can get you one if you'd like. It'd do wonders for cheering up your office." Felicity added, "The feng shui doesn't seem to be working."
There were a few snickers around the table. Stacey waited for Oliver to scold Felicity for her snarky remark, but he said nothing.
Isabel wasn't amused. "No, thank you. I don't like fake things. I find them creepy."
Smiling, Felicity mumbled under her breath, "Takes one to know one."
Stacey thought she was the only one to hear, because she was so close. But the corner of Oliver's mouth also twitched. Was he actually amused by her comment and trying not to laugh?
"Thank you for your help, Felicity. That'll be all for now," he casually dismissed her. He touched her hand still on his shoulder. As Felicity pulled hers away, their fingers glided against each other until the growing distance as she left separated them.
Stacey did her best afterward to concentrate on the details of the meeting, but it was a struggle. She was disappointed; her plan to swoop in and take Felicity's job was shot to hell. Stacey didn't know how she'd missed all the staring, intensely silent conversations, and touching between Oliver and Felicity before, but there was no unseeing it now. Something was going on. If the pair wasn't already sleeping together, then it wouldn't be long before they started. No wonder Felicity favored short skirts; they were a surefire way to get Oliver's attention and keep it. Stacey had to tell Angela that she was right—and give her twenty dollars in the bet she just lost.