My first Arrow fanfic – I hope I did these great characters justice. Let me know what you think!

I set this somewhere at the beginning of season 2. Felicity is already Oliver's Executive Assistant, but Sara is not in the picture yet.

Don't own anything.

A Challenge

It had been one of those days – one of those days which start out with burning your tongue on coffee in the morning and just get worse from there. She had felt both overwhelmed and bored out of her mind at Queen Consolidated. It sounded like a paradox, but it was her day-to-day life now. She wasn't cut out to be an Executive Assistant and it surely was not what she had gone to university for. Still, she couldn't say no to Oliver Queen and that was really at the root of all of her problems.

Felicity saw the benefits of being part of both of his lives and helping him to manage the demands of these competing worlds. In fact, she was confident enough to believe that he wouldn't be able to do it without her help, but that didn't mean she had to like it. A snide remark from Isabel Rochev, a disgruntled Head of Finance who hadn't gotten his report on time and a less-than tasty lunch had given her the rest. Her mood was really, really bad.

She took a deep breath before making her way down the stairs to the lair. As usual, she had come here directly after work, planning to get some takeout later on. Felicity couldn't see him yet, but judging from the tell-tale sounds in the basement, Oliver was climbing the salmon ladder, which annoyed her. Not only did it remind her that he often sneaked out of the office in the afternoon while she had to stick around to pick up the slack and console people with the empty promise of him being available the next day, she also had to face him shirtless.

And again a paradox: while she loved seeing him without his shirt, working out – which woman wouldn't? – this minimized her productivity. Considerably. She had hoped to check her alerts, do some research on those weapons smugglers they were after at the moment, and finally get home a bit earlier. She hadn't done laundry in ages and was down to her last pair of underwear. So yeah, she really needed to get home at a decent hour. Maybe she'd even be able to take a bath and catch more than 5 hours of sleep? A girl can dream…

She went straight to her computers, not daring to look at Oliver lest she should lose all motivation to work and just keep watching him, her mind wandering off… She shouted a "hey" in his general direction, acknowledged his return of the greeting, and set to work. However, just a minute later, she heard him drop from the top of the ladder to the floor, from where he seemed to make his way over to her. Before she knew it, his sweaty torso had moved into her line of sight and she could no longer ignore him. Trailing her eyes up to his face (which, admittedly, took a bit longer than was necessary), she realized he was talking to her.

"Sorry, what did you just say?" she smiled at him, "Long day…". Oliver smiled back at her, sadly. He knew better than anyone what toll a double life could have on a person, and he was sorry she had to make that same experience. She looked very tired indeed. Then again, it was her choice and he respected it. "I said that Digg was here earlier, letting me know that the weapons deal is going down tomorrow. His source told him. What we don't know is where it's going to take place."

"I'm on it. Might already have a lead on the location as well," she assured him, referring to something that had been flagged up in her alerts. He knew that if anyone was going to find out what they needed to know to stop this deal from going down, it was his own personal IT genius. "Just give me 10 minutes."

"Great, maybe we can even call it an early night," he sighed. He could use some sleep for a change. Felicity was already back to work, seemingly absorbing information from three screens at the same time. Leaving her to what she did best, he turned on his heel to do what he did best: Hit stuff. Hard.

After an exhausting half-hour of hitting the dummy, he grabbed a towel and made his way back over to Felicity's desk, to check up on her progress. She was looking at her screens but not moving, not typing, not blinking, just staring at the screens. "Felicity?" Oliver looked at her, wondering whether she was just overly tired or daydreaming. She didn't react.

"Felicity!" he called her again, this time more loudly. Jolting out of her reverie, the woman inexplicably blushed. If he knew what she had been daydreaming about, he wouldn't find her crimson cheeks so inexplicable. He'd probably blush right along with her. "Have you found the location for tomorrow?"

"Um… no, not quite. Sorry." She cleared her throat, her eyes inadvertently wandering down his glorious upper body and back up again. Oliver wasn't feeling very patient today, as he'd already seen himself getting a solid 8 hours of sleep. "What's the holdup?" He had said it more harshly than intended and immediately regretted his tone. However, before he got a chance to apologise, Felicity had already gotten up from her swivel chair and was facing him. She was in his personal space. His naked-torso, sweaty, personal space.

"For goodness sake, Oliver, just put a shirt on and I will get some work done here!" She had involuntarily raised her voice and was looking at him now, defiance in her eyes. "But I'm not finished working out yet." He said as if this could truly be the only reason for him to put his shirt back on. "Seriously," she was aghast at this display of naiveté. He had no idea what the sight of him did to her.

"Men all around the world wear shirts in gyms. Why can't you do the same? Instead I have to look at your… half-naked body, constantly." She was incredibly thankful that she was so tired that her mouth couldn't keep up with her mind. This lag had stopped her from filling in any of those adjectives that would usually spring to mind, ranging from hot to irresistible with detours via sexy and sculptured.

"Oh please, shirtless men are everywhere, don't tell me you are bothered by this! Nothing you haven't seen before!" He was on the defensive now, and she knew that he would fight his corner, just because. It would be easier for him to just put a shirt on and be done with the discussion, but they were both feeling quarrelsome, neither of them ready to back down.

"That's not the point! I'm sure you've seen your share of women in underwear. More than I care to imagine, actually, considering how many women you've been with just since you've been back from the island and the tabloids say that you've turned your back on your womanizing ways, or whatever, so I can only imagine what it was like before, and this is not really relevant at all, I just meant to say that I'm not walking around down here half-naked, even though I might be more comfortable, because I'm sure you'd consider that a distraction as well." She turned red and just hoped that she had rambled quickly enough for him not to be able to fully process everything that was said.

All he replied was, "Well, you're welcome to," trying to keep his voice calm. He didn't like it when Felicity brought up his past with women – it wasn't something he was proud of and for some reason it bothered him in particular to hear from Felicity herself that she had a low opinion of him in this respect. Felicity, however, was puzzled. "Welcome to what?"

His face was stoic and didn't betray any feelings. Only his jaw line seemed a bit more tense than usual. "Work down here in whatever state of dress or undress you feel most comfortable in." He had called her bluff. Damn. Why hadn't he simply put a shirt on! He was turning this into a thing, making both of them uncomfortable without either of them being able to admit to it or to back down, because that would mean letting the other win. And they could not have that, now could they. He looked at her, a challenge in his eyes.

She realized he didn't think she was going to go through with it. How come he hadn't realized by now that she did love herself a challenge? They held each other's gaze. "Alright, then!" she all but shouted at him and stepped out of her high heels. He could be so infuriating sometimes! His eyes followed her line of sight, which was now a few inches lower than before. Sometimes he forgot how much smaller than him she was – something he had always thought quite sexy. He slightly clenched his jaw, which would hopefully go unnoticed by Felicity. He had to keep his poker face on.

It did indeed go unnoticed by Felicity, as she was busy trying to make a point. After a short moment's hesitation, she started to work her way through the buttons of her blouse. He didn't flinch or look down at her body when she slid the garment off her shoulders and threw it on the floor, with a vengeance. Next was the tank top she had been wearing underneath her slightly see-through blouse. The moment it took for her to pull off her top over her head, which broke her line of sight to Oliver, she started to panic. This was a really, really bad idea. But then, locking her gaze with his again, she realized that he was weirdly calming her down. She was not a quitter. She would stand up to him, no matter what.

She moved her hands to her waist, where she blindly found the zipper of her skirt, and undid it. Letting it slide down to the floor, she fought the strong urge to wrap her arms around herself, trying to cover up her exposed skin. However, this would defy the whole purpose of this exercise. She had to pretend as convincingly as possible that she was actually comfortable walking around like this. In front of him. Her heart was racing at 160 beats per minute and oh boy did she regret not getting around to doing laundry for two weeks. She was wearing green boxer briefs with yellow stars on them. She had thought them cute when she bought them, some time ago. Now she was just embarrassed. Luckily, her bra was a sexier number in black lace. "At least something," she thought.

To deflect from her discomfort, she defiantly asked, "Happy now?" His eyes were unreadable – was it just her or were they darker than usual? "I'm happy if you're happy." His voice also sounded deeper than usual. With this non-committal answer, he turned around and walked back over to the salmon ladder and started working out again. He would not look at her. Not look. Not… green was his favorite color. He wondered if she knew. His eyes wandered to his leather outfit in the glass case. Chances were, she probably did.

Felicity, now sitting back at her desk, getting even less work done than before, heard a loud thump shortly thereafter. "Oliver, are you okay?" She hurried over to him and knelt beside where he lay on the mat. He'd fallen off the bar – which was basically unheard of. He propped his upper body up on his elbows, trying to breathe evenly and not let on how much her state of undress was getting to him.

This was not working, considering he was on perfect eye level now with her breasts, cupped in an enticing black lace bra. If he just reached out with his hand… Her skin looked so soft and would feel heavenly to touch, he just knew it. And it was not like this was the first time he was wondering about what it would feel like to touch her, to wrap her body up in his arms, to run his hands through her silken hair. He forced this train of thought back into his subconscious. "Um…, I guess my arms are tired. Too much workout today." Oliver prayed to god that this excuse didn't sound as threadbare to her as it did to him at the moment of utterance.

Worst. Excuse. Ever. Oliver's arms never got tired. She'd seen him do many more exercises without even a hint of exhaustion. "Oh, alright then." Felicity stood up quickly, walking back to her desk, letting a triumphant smile spread across her lips, which she had barely managed to suppress while he could see her face. Aware that his eyes were probably following her retreating form, she swayed her hips a tiny bit more than was usually her habit. She felt like she was gaining the upper hand in this scenario. Actually, although she would never admit to it, she was starting to have a bit of fun playing with him. Just a little bit.

Forcing herself to really concentrate on the task at hand – which, under normal circumstances, she could've finished three times over by now –, Felicity found the location for the arms deal the day after. Relieved that her work for the night was done, she turned her attention back to Oliver, who had moved on to target practice by now, getting his tennis balls ready. "Concentrate, Oliver!" he told himself. However, it was pretty much hopeless. All the dreams he had had about her (not exactly few) over the last months had conspired to assault his mind at once, mixing with those fantasies he indulged in consciously during his weaker moments.

Needless to say, his practice was a disaster. Only one out of 6 balls was impaled on the wall with an arrow. And that one was probably just luck. Felicity, who had been watching him, fascinated by the muscles in his back and shoulders tensing and easing with every released arrow, had to suppress a chuckle and slowly walked over to where he was standing with his back to her. Her feet barely made a sound on the floor. "It would seem you're not exactly at the top of your game tonight," she said, her body so close to his that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. With her eyes, she traced a single drop of sweat make its way from his hairline down his spine to the small of his back.

He must've been very deep in thoughts, because he positively jumped when she uttered these words. Did she really just sneak up on the Arrow? This was a night of firsts. He took two deep breaths, then started to slowly turn around on the spot, keeping the distance between them intimate. His left hand was still holding onto his bow, his right hand was balled into a fist at this side. He suppressed a groan that was roaring in his throat, but wasn't sure he had managed to. Had she heard it?

Not trusting himself to refrain from reaching for her in this moment of weakness, he had to get out of here, quickly, with whatever dignity he had left. He had long since decided that it was for the best like this, but on days like these it got incredibly hard to fight against his feelings, his instincts. If he let his hand run over her soft skin now, from her curvy hips to her small waist, there would be no going back, and he was fairly convinced that she wouldn't put a stop to it either. Knowing that it was just his fear of getting her hurt holding him back and that otherwise he could wake up tomorrow morning with her curled against his side was too much to bear. Weary, he tried to control his voice as best as he could, clenched his jaw, and simply said, "I'll start wearing a shirt."

Felicity was taken aback at the strain audible in his voice. She didn't feel elated at having won her little challenge. Rather, she felt weirdly sad, because she realized in this moment that he would never act on this palpable sexual tension between the two of them. He respected her too much, he valued their friendship too much to change anything about their relationship. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone earnest and just slightly melancholic. They must both have realized that this was not just about a shirt.

She watched as he walked towards the glass case with a contemplative look on his face. He placed his bow down softly, almost caressing the weapon, which felt like it was an extension of himself. If he would only touch her once like he was touching his bow now, she was sure that would be enough to get her through many a lonely night.

If only she knew he was thinking about touching her in that moment because she, too, was like an extension of himself.

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you'd like the same story with a smutty turn. I'd be up for writing an M-rated ending if there's demand