Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any profit off of Arrow. It belongs to The CW, DC Comics, etc.
A/N: Written for a fic request based on the trip to Moscow in Episode 2x06: Keep Your Enemies Closer. Contains information from the official episode description at GreenArrowTV. A few might recognize this story from my Arrow tumblr blog: HoodSmoaked.
Anchors & Understanding
It was a long trip from Starling City to Moscow.
Even longer when one was forced to travel with a thieving, ice-cold businesswoman by the name of Isabel Rochev.
At least that's what Felicity told herself the entire drive to the airport, during loading, when boarding, and when attempting to take a seat on the Queen Consolidated private jet.
Sitting with Oliver had become Felicity's anchor against the fear of flying and heights; the man himself had started the idea on the return flight from Lian Yu. After seeing her white-knuckled hands gripping the belt-less bench seat, the billionaire had blinked for a moment and then suddenly Felicity felt his warm hand cover hers. Small though the gesture had been, the support eliminated Felicity's fears by half. Yes, she had squeezed the life out that hand, but when she'd apologized, Oliver had just smiled understandingly.
Keeping that in mind for their trip to Moscow, Felicity innocently deigned to take seat beside Oliver, who offered a knowing smile at her choice while at the same time Isabel gave her a look of disbelief.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?" the ice queen inquired almost laughingly — more condescendingly than was strictly necessary. From the corner of her eye, Felicity noticed Oliver practically groaning aloud in frustration, his face tight.
"Sitting down?" Felicity responded, curious if there was supposed to be a punchline.
"With the CEO of the company?" Isabel asked, her mouth slightly open with unspoken sarcasm. As if it was criminal for an assistant to sit beside their boss on a business trip. "Assistants are the background of every organization. Your seat is elsewhere."
"Funny, I don't recall reading that in the employee handbook," Felicity commented flatly, eyes narrowing enough to prove her displeasure. The blonde felt certain there was an unwritten rule that assistants could not murder wannabe CEO overlords, but she was unable to remember the fine print details.
Such as why.
"Apparently you haven't read enough of it," Rochev retorted coolly, smugly, crossing her legs as though she was the reigning monarch of the world. "You may have gotten to the top of your chain, Ms. Smoak, but that position does not top the CEO… However fitting that scenario may be in your case."
Felicity's vision almost literally became a haze of scarlet. She wanted so badly to slap the foul woman with all of her strength, but knew instinctively she could not. In her silent rage, she could hear Oliver speaking angrily, but the words were indistinct. Rochev responded somehow, and again the words remained unclear to Felicity; all she heard was the continued tone of cold superiority and proud arrogance.
Without a word, the IT expert rose with remarkable dignity from her seat and turned sharply on her heel to go around and take the one which backed up against Oliver's. There was nothing she could say to Isabel Rochev to convince her Felicity had not slept her way to the top of the food chain. In all frankness, she really didn't care what that horrid thing thought anyway. It was just the idea that no one would believe her, no matter how truthfully she spoke.
Now she was forced to spend the flight alone. Oliver's supportive hand was off limits. And Diggle was so preoccupied with determining strategy for finding Lyla that he had buried himself as far from Isabel's sight as possible. In other words, far from Felicity, too.
Sighing as she fastened the seat belt, Felicity resigned herself to an hours-long trip spent in a contraption she feared, with no one at her side.
As if that wasn't enough, barely thirty minutes into the flight they encountered turbulence that forced Felicity to clamp her eyes shut and grip the seat belt until her fingers were on fire from the pressure.
It was to her great shock, therefore, that cooler hands descended upon her aching fingers. Snapping her eyes open with surprise, Felicity found Oliver strapped into the seat beside her, fingers working steadily to unclasp her own from the seat belt. Like a switch had been flipped, Felicity unconsciously unlocked her grip, instead grasping the calloused hands of her boss. Even over the rushing in her ears, Felicity could pinpoint his chuckle.
It was a long time before Felicity was able to let go of Oliver's hands. The turbulence had ended, but her heart and stomach both attempted to fly out of her body even twenty minutes afterward. The fact they were still in the air and had a couple more hours of flying didn't help.
"You must be feeling a little better," Oliver murmured for her ears alone.
"What? Why?" she breathed in return, barely capable of making her vocal chords work as she glanced towards him in shock. She certainly didn't feel any better.
"Your grip is weaker than it was," he answered with a tiny smile, just a slight teasing tenor in his voice.
"Sorry," she replied briefly, blushing with embarrassment and turning her eyes away.
"It's not a problem, Felicity," Oliver countered kindly, squeezing her hands in reassurance when she tried to pull away. "We all have our fears."
"Some just feel more idiotic than others," the IT expert mumbled, biting her dark pink lip.
"Well, this one is not idiotic," he argued, still keeping his voice down. He squeezed her hands a second time, as if to ensure she was paying attention. "Idiotic fears are the ones with no realistic foundation."
"So pretty much anything that exists can be a plausible fear?" Felicity questioned him incredulously.
"Pretty much," he nodded once, decisively, and leaned back into his seat, apparently thinking the matter settled.
"And what if my fear is that a panda will eat my crocodile handbag?" she asked in challenge and sarcasm at the same time, brows lifted in a dare.
Oliver turned ever so slowly to face her, his own brows risen with disbelief and the blue of his eyes more pronounced now that they twinkled with amusement.
"Does that seem a very likely possibility to you, Felicity?" he wondered, his humor almost a tangible thing. The billionaire tried desperately to stamp out a grin, but the corners of his mouth twitched madly.
"You were the one who opened the door for it," she threw back with what little remained of her pride.
"I never knew pandas liked to eat crocodiles," Oliver teased her, finally allowing a bit of his grin to surface in a half-smirk.
"Well, if a man can use an ancient, primitive weapon in a contemporary world…" she trailed off meaningfully, bringing a snort from her companion.
"I can't even argue with that," the man in question shook his head ruefully, and Felicity allowed herself a genuine smile — her first of the day.
The trip was mostly silent after that, and Felicity could not withhold her relief that Oliver didn't bring up Rochev's accusations. That particular rumor was a subject they still hadn't found the courage to discuss and it seemed reasonable to keep it that way.
Granted, Felicity couldn't help worrying Oliver would feel a need to discuss the gossip when they had a spare moment at the hotel. He had obviously been angry at Rochev for her cutting remarks, and when Oliver got angry, he tended to be much more vocal about the nitty-gritty issues he tried to avoid at any other time.
When the plane finally did land and Oliver let go of her hands long enough to remove his seat belt, Felicity found herself biting her lip again, and no amount of hand-holding from Oliver was going to stem this precise fear any time soon.
-The End-