Ok, so this is my first Arrow fanfiction. Basically, everything in this story will be a role reversal of scenes from the show.
I'm happy to take requests for scenes that people want to see, either in the reviews or by email. Also, if you decide you want to see a certain prompt with the role reversal, I'm happy to write entire new scenes for them.
Please enjoy! I own nothing!
Felicity Smoak had grown very accustomed to keeping secrets.
Even before the events of the island and Hong Kong, she had been very private with certain matters of her life. For instance, when she and Tommy had gotten themselves too drunk to get home, she told her girlfriend Laurel that they were called away by Moira to discuss her and Tommy's potential with the company now that they were out of college.
When she got pregnant, and Moira paid off the father to raise the child, she told everyone that nine months in Tahiti was the reason her skin had been glowing. In reality, she had been with a few midwives in one of their summer homes.
And then when she got back after the Smoak Signal capsized and Sara had been pulled under and her father had killed both himself and the captain, she made sure to tell everyone that they all drowned.
Because the truth was a bit more painful, she hated to admit.
So why, when she could tell all of these lies to people she cared about, could she not remember the lie she prepared for one IT expert Oliver Queen?
She had stepped off the elevator, going over the lie in her head. She had gotten caught in the cross hairs of a battle between Deadshot and the Vigilante, and though the Vigilante had protected her securely, the offender's laptop had gotten ruined by a few well-placed SCPD bullets. She stole it out of curiosity, that's all. Not an airtight story, but not too unbelievable.
And then she had clicked her heels across the floor to his supposed cubicle and saw what lay in wait.
How could someone so attractive be tucked away in the IT department?
Before the island, she would have leaned over his desk, flashing her cleavage. She'd have fingered her ponytail and looked at him through her eyelashes, and taken him to the empty stairwell a few feet away.
But she wasn't that person anymore.
He turned away, not having seen her, working diligently at whatever he was doing. Now or never.
"Oliver Queen?"
She drew out his first name as she said it. He turned, red pen hanging out of his mouth, and stared up at her.
"I'm Felicity Smoak." She half hoped he didn't know who she was, just to find someone who didn't. No such luck.
"Of course," he said, after yanking the pen out of his mouth. His hands went up as he said "I know who you are, you're Ms. Smoak." He was smiling and she wished she could say it wasn't adorably endearing.
"No," she said immediately. "Ms. Smoak is my mother. And even then, only my father really took to using a title."
Oliver nodded. "Right, but he's dead." His eyes widened. "I mean he drowned. But you didn't. Which means you could come down to the IT department. And listen to me babble. Which will end..in 3...2...1..."
Felicity's eyes shone in amusement. She might rethink her stairwell idea if she wasn't here for something important.
"I'm having some trouble with my computer, and they told me you were the person to come and see." She revealed the laptop that was in her hands and placed it in front of Oliver. He placed his hand on it as she stood there. She stared at his jawline and the stubble that rested there, considering how it would feel on her neck. Oh no, she thought, I forgot my lie.
Whatever spilled out of her mouth was so bogus, she wished for one second to be back on the island where computers were not too much of an issue, and there were no hot IT guys giving her strange looks.
"I was at my coffee shop surfing the web, and I spilt a latte on it." Though her face showed no signs of having said anything ridiculously outrageous, her mind screamed 'Latte? Really?'
"Really?" he said, unconvinced. "Because," he pointed to the round indents. "These look like bullet holes."
She barely flinched upon saying, "My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."
He tightened his mouth into a thin line and cocked his head to the right. The look was very obviously a 'how-stupid-do-I-look' sort of face, but she just smiled and said, "If there's anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it."
Oliver still held an incredulous look on his face, before giving a nod.
Felicity sighed as she walked back toward the elevator. She had survived five years of hell only to be undone by a blonde chewing a red pen.
Oliver had grown very accustomed to being needed.
Even when he was a kid, his mother had called to him, drunk and ruthless, requesting food or some water. Then, when he had gotten older, he was the guy.
The guy that everyone asked for favors with their equipment (even his train of thought had foot-in-mouth syndrome), or to help move their stuff. He had the brawn, the brains, and crumbled far too easily at the offer of Big Belly Burger.
After he got the job at Smoak Industries, everyone quickly realized he was kind of brilliant. So naturally they all begged for his assistance on their projects. Oliver was kind enough to help, but only when he had finished his own. He wasn't stupid-he knew half of them were trying to get him behind. So he just worked twice as hard. I mean, installing new software wasn't really much compared to his previous accomplishments. Those government databases really needed a modern eye, and he would be more than happy to help if they ever came knocking.
Though the thought of the government knocking at his door was actually not a very good one, and he kind of wished he hadn't thought about it. Now he was thinking about Cooper, and he swallowed thickly. Whoops.
So why then, after years of being needed by many people that he may or may not have cared about, was he so shell-shocked when Felicity Smoak had asked for his assistance?
He had been sitting there, at his desk, focused on the latest version of Spyware and Gregory Brockman's practically impossible task of updating the already perfect sound quality on the company's top of the line computers ("They said they can't hear anything. Are rich people deaf and blind?"), when he heard heels click in the distance. He barely noticed the sound, though it was foreign down here in the land of loafers and flats.
He turned over towards a binder, tossing his pen into his mouth, scanning down a list of numbers, when a decidedly feminine voice asked,
"Oliver Queen?"
He looked up, hands spread in alarm, and practically fainted. The Felicity Smoak was standing at his less-than-classy cubicle. And his first thought was, plainly, why?
"I'm Felicity Smoak."
No. Freaking. Shit.
He self-consciously tore the pen from his mouth, quickly blurting out, "Of course,"
Really, Oliver? 'Of course?' He hated his whole life right now.
So he 'fixed it' with a spectacular response of "I know who you are, you're Ms. Smoak."
She easily replied "No, Ms. Smoak is my mother. And even then, only my father really took to using a title."
Oliver decided at that moment to realize just how beautiful she was. Her designer skirt hugged her curves and stopped just before her knees. The blouse that accompanied it was a see-through white and she had made the (possibly conscious) decision to wear a black bra underneath.
So because of his horribly-timed realization (though he thinks it probably would have happened anyway) he says, "Right, but he's dead." Her eyebrows raised and he furthered the madness. "I mean he drowned. But you didn't." Good god, there was no end. "Which means you could come down to the IT department. And listen to me babble. Which will end. In 3...2...1..."
Does speaking in mildly inappropriate sentence fragments count as a special skill?
Felicity looked thoroughly amused, so he didn't feel completely awful.
"I'm having some trouble with my computer, and they told me you were the person to come and see."
Thank god, something Oliver couldn't screw up. She placed the computer in front of him and he blanched, caressing the laptop. Someone murdered this thing, and he would avenge it. He looked up and saw Ms. Smoak looking along his jaw, and before he could even think she said, "I was at my coffee shop, surfing the web, and I spilt a latte on it."
Oliver couldn't contain the "Really?" That flew out of his mouth. He caressed the holes in the computer. "Because these look like bullet holes."
Was she really that dense? Maybe five years away from civilization had done her in.
But she didn't seem to realize the strange nature of what she said, because she smiled and said, "My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."
Oliver knew his face had twisted into a very obviously disapproving look. Felicity sighed and leaned forward only slightly.
"If there's anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it."
He looked into her eyes and noted the genuine look of thanks there. So he wordlessly nodded.
Oliver sighed as he returned to work. He had spent years of saying no to ridiculous projects, only to be undone by a blonde billionaire with a bullet-ridden laptop.