TITLE: Puppy dog eyes and a sob story

CHARACTERS: Oliver Queen, John Diggle (Felicity Smoak and Barry Allen mentioned)

SPOILERS/WARNINGS: Up to Episode 8 of Season 2.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: There aren't enough Diggle and Oliver moments on the show. So I made up one. This is a tag to Season 2 Episode 8, "The Scientist." Please be kind; this is my first attempt at an "Arrow" fic.

DISCLAIMER: Oliver Queen and company belong to DC Comics. I'm just having a little fun with them.

John Diggle noted the absence of Oliver Queen's executive assistant at her desk as he strolled toward the glass-fronted office.

"Felicity still out for lunch?"

Oliver tossed the papers he'd been reading onto his desk. "I don't know about lunch, but she's definitely out." With a grimace, he added, "Probably with Mr. Barry Allen."

"Huh?" Diggle unbuttoned his suit jacket before settling in a chair midway betwen the glass doors and Oliver. He wasn't really expecting trouble — though working security for Oliver Queen you never know — but he was supposed to be protecting the CEO of Queen Consolidated, even if said chief executive is an ass-kicking, bow-wielding vigilante at night. It was good to keep up appearances. "I take it the revelation of the kid's less-than-honest claims didn't produce the desired effect?"

Oliver's response was a grunt, so Diggle tried again. "What happened?"

"Puppy dog eyes and a sob story happened."

Diggle let out a chuckle before he noticed the pained look on Oliver's face. He coughed to cover the laugh. "Uhm, what?"

Oliver sighed. "His father really is in prison for his mother's murder. But Allen claims he's not the killer. That it was somebody else, a person inside a blur that did it. No one believed him, of course. He was young." Oliver rolled his eyes. "Well, younger."

Diggle groaned. "Person in a blur? That's even weirder than our vampire who likes sugar." He frowned. "And his interest in our case?"

"He's been obsessed with unexplained phenomena ever since."

Diggle nodded. He could easily imagine how something as traumatic as the death of a parent could traumatize a child and set him on an unusual path. He was, after all, working with the Arrow.

"And Felicity?"

Myriad emotions crossed Oliver's face. Diggle thought he saw confusion and hurt on there. Which didn't really make much sense. Or maybe it did. Something's been going on between Oliver and his Girl Friday since their trip to Russia. He'd been a little distracted at that time, given that they were trying to break out his ex-wife Lyla from a Russian gulag. But he had noticed a slight change in the interaction between the two over the last several weeks. It had seemed slightly stilted, a little bit more formal than usual.

"Oliver, how did Felicity react?"

Oliver sighed. "She basically said we did the same thing every day."

"Did what?"

"Lie."

"Ahhhh."

Oliver suddenly stood up, almost toppling his chair. Diggle's eyebrows shot up in surprise. They would have climbed higher if possible when Oliver began pacing. Oliver did not pace. Diggle had long ago realized that when Oliver was furious or worried he does a wonderful impersonation of a statue. As if being physically still was his way of controlling his errant emotions.

But Oliver was pacing now.

"And he did lie!"

If it were anyone else, Diggle would have sworn he heard a plaintive note in the emphatic declaration. Maybe even a dash of defensiveness.

"Our Miss Smoak didn't take it that way, did she?"

Oliver shook his head and turned toward Diggle. The look he gave him resembled that of a lost little boy. "I just wanted to make sure he could be trusted. He swoops in here, a total stranger, and suddenly it's all smiles and giggles."

Diggle opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I didn't … notice … any giggles."

Oliver's glare made him put his hands up, palms spread outward. "Hey! Are you OK? You seem to be over-reacting a bit here, man. I told you when I gave you the information it didn't seem that big a deal."

Diggle stood up and crossed toward his friend and comrade.

"What's going on with you, Oliver? You've been pretty pissy with this kid. So he lied. No harm, no foul. But he has been helpful. And he IS with the police, even though he's basically a glorified intern."

In the silence, Diggle could have sworn he heard teeth grinding.

"Is this about him spending time with Felicity? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous."

Oliver's baffled reaction threw Diggle off.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I'm not jealous," Oliver huffed. "I just want to make sure Felicity doesn't get hurt … one way or another."

Diggle searched Oliver's face. Maybe the younger man was jealous of the whiz kid from Central City, maybe he wasn't. Who knew? Oliver apparently didn't. And Diggle had the feeling Oliver was fighting really hard not to acknowledge any feelings he might have for their blonde cohort.

"OK," he said quietly. "I'll keep an eye on Felicity … and Barry."

Oliver nodded his thanks.

As he headed out of the office, Diggle decided to give his friend a little bit of a nudge, "You better come up with a way to make amends, if Felicity is as pissed off as I think she is. I'm not looking forward to awkward moments in our basement office. And since you're NOT jealous at all, maybe you can make sure a certain assistant CSI gets an invite to your party. I know someone who has a lovely gown she's looking forward to wearing."

The end