A/N: Inspired by yesterday's Brandon/Emily Instagram.
"Ms. Smoak?"
Felicity jumps, turning from her monitor to stare at the phone on the desk behind her. It's never done that before, but then Oliver preferred to yell from his office, or (more to his favour) walk out to speak face-to-face.
She rolls her chair closer and assesses the button situation. It takes her a second, but there: Intercom. She presses it. "Yes?" Nothing. Presses it again, harder. "Yes?" It comes out sharp the second time around and she winces.
"Could you please bring some coffee in for Mr. Queen and myself?"
"Yes, sir. Just a moment." She leaves her desk and heads to the coffee station. It's only her first day, but still she's a little embarrassed that she doesn't know how Mr. Palmer takes his coffee. She prepares two cups black, laying out cream and sugar on a tray and carrying it back to the office.
When she pulls open the door, both Oliver and Mr. Palmer look up, and Oliver says, "As I was saying, Mr. Palmer, I really cannot recommend Ms. Smoak highly enough."
Feeling awkward, Felicity keeps her eyes on the tray, setting it down on the table between them and placing first Mr. Palmer's coffee, then Oliver's, on their respective sides. "Would you like me to prepare your coffee, sir?" she asks quietly.
"Thank you, Ms. Smoak. I've got it."
"Thank you, Ms. Smoak," Oliver echoes, and she hears amusement in his voice.
Ignoring him purposefully, she walks out of the office and back to her desk. As she sits down, she sighs, then goes back to playing solitaire on her computer in an attempt to look busy.
Toward the end of the day, her intercom comes back to life. "Ms. Smoak, could you come in here for a moment?"
Grabbing her tablet, just in case, Felicity walks into the office. "Yes, sir?"
He leans back in his chair, smiling calmly as she stands, stiff and formal, on the other side of his desk. "I understand that you enjoyed working for Mr. Queen, but I hope you won't find working for me all that different. I got to where I am by treating my employees well. Do you have any questions now that day one is complete?"
She shakes her head. "No, sir. Well, I would like to know how you take your coffee, but other than that."
"I'll write it down for you. Oh, and Ms. Smoak?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Please, call me Ray. And none of this 'sir' business, really."
"Yes, sir. I mean, Ray." She grimaces, not crazy about calling her new boss that she's barely just met by his first name. She presses her lips together with no intention of asking him to call her Felicity, and after a moment he nods.
"Thank you, Ms. Smoak. Have a good night."
"Goodnight, sir. Ray." She holds a second grimace until she's turned away, closing her eyes as she pushes through the door.
On the way to the lair, she picks up food for herself and Oliver, and they eat on one of the metal tables while Roy and Diggle are out doing a sweep. They eat in silence for a bit, while Felicity tries to digest the first draining day of her new job.
Then Oliver looks up and says, "'Sir'?"
"Yeah?" Felicity stabs at a piece of broccoli with her chopsticks. "He's my boss."
"I was your boss."
"It's not the same," she says, and then, the day's frustration creeping into her voice, "Is there a problem?"
"No problem." He holds up a hand, chopsticks splayed. "I just want to make sure you're... okay... with the new arrangement."
"Of course," she mutters, staring at her food and taking a vicious bite of orange chicken. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you weren't too crazy about the job the first time around."
"You need me there and I need a day job. I can do what it takes."
"I know you can." He pokes at the container of rice, shifting his jaw, and then says, "But if Ray Palmer ever..."
Felicity looks up, confused, and blinks at him a few times. "What? Do you know something I don't?"
"No." It's Oliver's turn to mutter, eyes on the rice as he stabs his chopstick into the carton. "He's just a man, so I need you to tell me if he—"
"Tries something?" Felicity interjects. "Hits on me? Grabs my ass? What exactly are you imagining here?"
Oliver looks up, and Felicity is surprised by the ache in his eyes. "I just want to keep you safe," he says quietly, and her hackles drop altogether.
"Okay." She reaches out her hand and lays it on top of his. "If that would make you feel better. I'll keep you updated."
He turns his hand to fold around hers, looking distinctly miserable. "Thanks."
"He seems nice!" She needs the reassurance as much as he does, injecting pep into her voice, and Oliver's face transforms as he looks up to meet her eyes.
He puts on that smile, the little one he wears when he wants to distance himself from something serious, when he wants to pretend like everything's okay. It's superficial, artificial, and she knows it well.
"I'm sure he is," Oliver says, matching his tone to hers. "Who knows, maybe he'll be a much better boss."
Felicity has to laugh. "No offense, Oliver, but I think he's got it in the bag."
He smiles back, like it's fine, like everything's perfectly fine, and Felicity knows she'll be going home with a bitter taste in her mouth. Lies and half-truths weigh heavy on her tongue, but there's nothing to confront and nothing to rebut because nothing has been said. So she says nothing in return, that smile painted on her lips like it belongs.
It's fine. It's all perfectly fine.