Blinded by Love and Daring 1/?
Author: dettiot
Rating: T for now
Summary: Five years have passed since Oliver Queen or Felicity Smoak published anything. The world thinks it knows why-a shipwreck and an attack. But the truth is much more intense than anyone realizes . . . not unlike the connection that exists between Oliver and Felicity. Publishing/writer!AU slow burn Olicity. Third in theink in my pen ran dry series, following Holding Your Breath and Jumping Off a Cliff.
Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Note: I am so appreciative of all the kudos, comments, and reviews I've gotten on the previous two stories in this series. It's so awesome to hear that people are enjoying my work! So I hope you keep enjoying, especially since there's a lot of Oliver & Felicity interaction in this first chapter. :-)
The sensation of writing a book is the sensation of spinning, blinded by love and daring. Annie Dillard
XXX
Publisher's Weekly, November 12, 2012
Ex Astris In Trouble?
Five years ago, Ex Astris was a new imprint with an impressive mix of highbrow talent and popular bestsellers. Not many niche imprints could boast publishing authors as diverse as Oliver Queen (The Frat Boy Way: Life and Women According to the World's Most Successful Frat Boy's Twitter Account) and Felicity Smoak (Invading the Treehouse: Why Women Are Needed in Technology). They were a flagship of the publishing boom in the early days of the e-book revolution, packaging their books with exclusive electronic content.
Times have changed, though. The disappearance of Queen and the attack on Smoak seemed like bad luck at first, yet it touched off a string of unfortunate misfires for Ex Astris. Their revenues have fallen steadily for the past two years. The news last week that they were shutting down their office in San Francisco and cancelling several forthcoming paperback editions has prompted gossip that the imprint desperately needs a bestseller-and fast.
Publisher's Lunch, November 15, 2012
Where Are They Now? (excerpts)
Oliver Queen: The first author to parlay a Twitter account into a book deal, Queen used his playboy image to promote his PW best-seller, The Frat Boy Way: Life and Women According to the World's Most Successful Frat Boy's Twitter Account, in the fall of 2007. A rumored follow-up was thwarted when the Queen family yacht went down at sea with Queen on board. His disappearance sparked off a media frenzy and sent his book back up the best-seller lists for a brief time. His return last month after five years has begun another frenzy. It's uncertain what Queen's plans are when it comes to publishing.
Felicity Smoak: Already well-regarded, Smoak was on the verge of becoming a breakout star, preceding Sheryl Sandberg and Anita Sarkeesian in talking about the role of women in technology and how their challenges impact society. But then she was attacked by an enraged anti-feminist. Caught up in her recovery and the recently-concluded trial, Smoak has only published a few articles in the last five years. She recently reported on Twitter that she is currently beginning work on a collection of those articles, to be published with a foreword touching upon her experiences. Publication date is TBA.
XXX
Oliver stomped across the concrete floor of the Foundry, his hand tight around his bow. Only Shado's training kept him from slamming the bow down on one of the tables. Because you respected your tools, even during failure-because it was never the bow's fault for the failure. It was yours.
And all he had been doing lately was failing.
Taking a deep breath, Oliver rubbed his fingers over his eyes and pushed aside the self-doubt as best he could. He needed to find a solution to the problem. Because so far, any names he had crossed off the List were due more to luck than skill or planning. And that wasn't acceptable.
Admittedly, the task of saving Starling City was even more daunting than he had imagined. And Oliver's own shortcomings were becoming clearer.
He didn't have the tech skills that seemed more and more necessary to bring the criminal element to heel. The plans and strategies he developed weren't good enough to handle unexpected complications. He could go toe-to-toe with the hired muscle guarding the bad guys, but he felt useless when it came time to take out the head of the monster.
Add in an altogether too insightful bodyguard and Oliver felt like he was at his wit's end.
Stripping off his hood and jacket, Oliver rolled his shoulders before heading over to the salmon ladder. Perhaps the physical activity would help him figure out what to do with John Diggle.
The bodyguard had been his mother's idea-actually something between a request and a plea. When Oliver had come home after a rare Hood success bruised and bloody, Moira had seen him before he could clean up. Caught, he had spun a lie about running into a few street toughs who held against him the closure of the Queen Consolidated factory in the Glades. He hadn't thought anything of it, until two days later when his mother had presented John Diggle to him.
Oliver set the bar in the bottom rung of the ladder and began climbing, feeling his muscles tense and release, his mind moving into that zone where he could sometimes find the unorthodox answers he needed.
How to handle Diggle? Oliver knew the ex-soldier had suspicions about him. He had seen too much to buy Oliver Queen as a playboy, no matter how much Oliver stressed the act. And Diggle wasn't shy about calling him on his bullshit. That very morning, when Oliver had come downstairs from his bedroom, Diggle was waiting in the foyer and reading The Frat Boy Way. His bodyguard's expression as he looked at him over the top of the book was so loaded with mocking disbelief, Oliver had ditched Diggle as quickly as he could on general principle, let alone needing to deal with James Holder being taken out by another player.
So how could he get Diggle to stop speculating about what Oliver was really doing?
Tell him the truth.
With a snort, Oliver paused at the top of the ladder. He could just imagine how well that would go. He doubted Diggle would be willing to turn a blind eye to Oliver's nighttime activities.
Besides, this was his crusade and his alone. There wasn't room for anyone else.
Lifting himself up in a series of fast pull-ups, he focused on the growing burn in his muscles. Focused on what he could do, focused on being stronger and better than he was a minute ago.
Such improvement was only possible in a physical sense.
XXX
Raking a hand through her hair, Felicity stared at the computer screen in front of her. The blinking cursor was just sitting there, blinking at her. Mocking her. Whispering that she was never going to write another word again. Taunting her that she was going to fail and leave her publisher in the lurch, end up evicted and broke, forced to move back to Vegas and become a cocktail waitress like her mom . . .
She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed her chair back. Her brain was her best and worst friend.
Maybe some coffee would help.
Standing up, she crossed over to the coffee pot and refilled her mug, then leaned back against the counter as she slowly took a few sips.
As seductive as self-doubt and perfectionism and procrastination were, she couldn't let herself be sucked in by them any more than she already had been. Her apartment was sparkling, she had redone her nails at least once every day, the DVDs had been reorganized twice and she had deep conditioned her hair three times in the last week. Any attempts at beginning the foreword for her article collection had seen her type a sentence or two before realizing it was awful and just deleting it. And anything that seemed not bad at first grew utterly pedestrian and cliched as she read it over.
So it wasn't surprising that now she was letting her mind spiral out into the worse of the worst-case scenarios while belittling herself. It was a bad habit-quite possibly her worst one. One that she had felt like she had managed to deal with, before her attack.
After that . . . she wasn't sure she had managed to deal with anything.
Felicity rubbed her thumbs against her mug. She was getting the sinking suspicion that the foreword wasn't coming because she didn't know what to say. And an author had to start from a place of having an opinion, a thought, something to express. Given how she could babble about anything or nothing, it was ironic that she had nothing to say about an event that was so important to her.
Her fingers went to the scar under her ear, stroking it unconsciously before Felicity pulled her hand away. There had to be some way for her to get something down for the damn foreword. Perhaps she just needed to start somewhere else. Not at the beginning, since the song from The Sound of Music lied in claiming it was a good place to start. The foreword wasn't just about her: it was about explaining the themes of the articles included in the collection, giving readers an understanding of what they were about to read. She could do that.
And maybe . . . maybe she just needed to do some research. Check out some memoirs from the library, see how she could approach talking about what had happened to her. After all, there was no need to reinvent the wheel-she wasn't the first woman to be attacked for her views. Taking a page from other authors might be what she needed to get over this hump.
Now that she had a plan, Felicity felt more energized. Sticking her tongue out at her computer, she shut the laptop's lid and went to put on some clothes. She would head over to the library, and then she would reward herself with a trip to that new coffee shop.
XXX
Starling City Examiner, November 27, 2012
Police Blotter
The body of a man with an arrow through some sort of prosthetic eye implant was recovered from a downtown office building last night.
Eye on Starling blog, November 27, 2012
Tweet Tweet: What Starling City Is Talking About
Jitters is making me consider cheating on my regular coffee shop. I feel so dirty. - felicity_smoak
Saw the Vigilante last night! #epicbeatdown - ninja1207380
omg can't believe the line verdant! - missylou
Anyone else nervous about going to the Glades tonight? #needabodyguard #whitegirlproblems - uknoit
#badCalifornian because I prefer Big Belly to In 'n Out. - bradtheman
US Weekly, December 3, 2012
Oliver Queen: Spotted!
The recently-returned billionaire and co-owner of the hottest club in Starling City was seen outside a local coffee shop twice this week. Handsome as ever, it appears Ollie has become a caffeine junkie thanks to running Verdant-that's why he's been stopping in at Jitters, a new coffee shop in the Glades. Reports say he's very fond of the eggnog latte-so ladies, start stocking up on that holiday concoction!
XXX
After five years struggling to survive, exhaustion was relative. Yes, most nights he might only be getting four hours of sleep at a max, but Oliver was slightly pleased to find he wasn't feeling the lack of sleep.
Partly it was due to sheer willpower-but another part was thanks to the new coffee shop that had opened around the corner from Verdant and next door to Big Belly. With extra-strong coffee, Jitters had quickly become one of the most popular coffee shops in the Glades. And he only knew about Jitters and Big Belly thanks to Diggle.
It wasn't necessarily what he had wanted, bringing Diggle on board. But when his bodyguard had been poisoned and the only hope was taking him to the Foundry and giving him some of the island herbs . . . well, it was the only thing he could do. Diggle was still wary about what Oliver was doing, but he was already proving how valuable he was. Not just for backup and strategy discussions, but in helping Oliver keep all the elements of his double lives from slipping through his fingers.
That was what helped lift some of the burden from his shoulders, let him not feel so beat-down. Made him feel like he was actually making a difference. Doing what he had set out to do. There was still the pain of having to lie to his family, to Tommy. But he could manage that. It was to keep them safe.
Covering his mouth with his hand as a yawn managed to break through, Oliver shifted his feet as he waited in line at Jitters. Digg was meeting him here; he had stopped in at Big Belly to check on Carly, since there had been a robbery attempt at the diner a few nights ago. The buzz of his phone made Oliver check his texts.
please god coffee.
Oliver snorted a little at Tommy's message. His best friend had stayed until close at Verdant, while Oliver had ducked out due to vigilante business, while telling Tommy a hot brunette had taken up his evening.
jitters now good timing. usual?
Y x2. He must really be suffering if he wanted two coffees, but it was Tommy's funeral.
The line was moving slowly and Oliver had just started messaging Digg to ask if he should just get him coffee and they would meet at Verdant, when the voice of the woman at the head of the line made him hit send with the message only half-written.
Because he knew that voice.
Craning his neck and taking advantage of every inch of height, Oliver tried to see if it was who he thought it was.
The woman was the right height, he thought. But her hair, pulled back in a curly ponytail, was blonde, not brunette. Her coat was a bright purple, vibrant in the sea of black and gray and navy. Her hand, with painted nails in a shade of neon orange, fluttered up around her face for some reason as she scanned the menu board.
It couldn't be Felicity Smoak.
But he wanted it to be her. More than he could understand, more than he had realized. Enough that he had to make sure. So even though it would mean having to wait even longer, Oliver stepped out of his place in line and moved towards the counter, drawing up alongside her. She must have seen him out of the corner of her eye, because she glanced over distractedly.
Oliver could see her tense after a moment, as if she suddenly realized who was standing beside her, before she slowly turned her head to look right into his eyes. Behind the lenses of her glasses, her eyes were large and blue, just like they had been five years ago. When his last glimpse of her was seeing her shock as he kissed another woman.
And just like five years ago, he felt his gut tighten with the impact of having Felicity Smoak look at him.
The change in her appearance was dramatic. Before, she had seemed so . . . contained. Like she didn't want to attract attention, didn't want to be noticed. But now, with the blonde hair and the bright colors, she made you want to look at her.
Or perhaps it was just about distracting people from the things she didn't want to be noticed. Like the scar he could just see under her left ear, one which left a lumpy patch of too-pink skin on the side of her neck.
"Oliver," she said, sounding breathless.
Her voice was the same, at least. It still sparked the same reaction inside him. Oliver pasted on his playboy smile. "I thought it was you, but I couldn't tell until I got close. It's good to see you, Felicity."
It shouldn't be possible for her eyes to get any wider, but they did as her fuchsia lips parted. "You remember me?"
"Of course," he said, trying to sound bland and not reveal what he was feeling. Which was a combination of amusement, curiosity and worry. She made him want to smile for real. He wanted to know more about her. And he couldn't help wondering why she still seemed so very Felicity, after everything that had happened to her, when he had gone through the same thing but didn't ever feel like Oliver.
"Miss? Excuse me, miss?"
The voice of the barista made Felicity jump and turn back towards the counter. "Yes! I'm sorry, yes, you're waiting for me. Tall mocha with an extra shot, please, and I'm so sorry, I'm feeling a . . ." She paused, and glanced over at Oliver again, looking like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then she pushed her glasses up a little, a gesture that seemed unconscious, and smiled. "I'm feeling a little scatterbrained this morning," she finished, looking back at the barista.
With a bored nod, the barista held his hand out for payment and Oliver quickly stepped in. "It's on me," he said, pulling out his wallet. "Add a large black coffee, too, please." He gave the barista a smile and turned to Felicity, who looked mortified.
"You didn't have to do that. It's not like you can't afford it, of course, it's just coffee, but I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to buy me a coffee to make up for just showing up here when I'm already feeling guilty and making my train of thought totally derail and-"
"Felicity," he said, leaning in towards her on instinct, seeing her mouth snap shut as he cut her off. "It's okay. It's my pleasure."
"It's your pleasure to buy coffee for babbling blondes?" she asked, sounding slightly embarrassed but smiling at him again. The smile that made him want her to not walk away from him after she got her coffee.
He felt his lips quirk up in a half-smile, something more genuine than the fake one he had given her before, and nodded. "If only to find out why they went blonde when they used to be brunette."
Felicity's cheeks flushed as he turned to the barista, giving him a sizeable tip and then handing over a hundred dollar bill. "To make up for cutting in line," he said, turning to nod at the people behind them. Amid the flurry of chatter and the beeping sounds of people typing out messages to say how Oliver Queen had just bought them coffee, Oliver picked up the two cups of coffee and nodded to Felicity. "Find us a table?"
XXX
How was this her life?
If this was a movie, she would be rolling her eyes right now at how cliched and fake this all was. But real life wasn't a movie and movies weren't real life.
Although maybe that was how it was for Oliver Queen. Because how else to explain him? How was it even possible for the man to become ridiculously hot while shipwrecked on a deserted island? It wasn't that he had been unattractive before-far from it. But five years ago, he had been all polished and preppy: just like the frat boy he claimed to be.
Now, though, Oliver Queen was a man. The close-cropped hair, the stubble, and how on Earth had his shoulders gotten even wider?
And she had to stop thinking about this before he sat down across from her and fixed her with those eyes of his. They had been powerful before-now they were like blue lasers piercing her soul.
Felicity felt her face go red. Romance novels had better writing than what was going through her head right now.
Spotting a table by the window, she quickly dashed over to it while giving herself a silent pep talk. He was just being polite and curious. They'd sit down, they'd have coffee, she'd try not to die of embarrassment while they talked, and then they'd go their separate ways.
"How's this?" she asked, turning to look at him and gesturing at the table.
"It's great," he said, nodding at her to take the far seat. Thinking it was a little odd, Felicity didn't see a reason not to take the chair with its back to the door, so she sat down and held her hand out for her coffee.
His lips formed that frankly devastating half-smile again and he handed her the cup before he had even sat down-a display of courtesy that she definitely appreciated. Felicity took a slow sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness on her tongue, feeling herself settle into a more socially acceptable version of herself.
"So," he said quietly, his hands wrapped around his own cup and his arms resting on the table, "I heard about what happened to you." His eyes were soft, although no less intense than before. "I'm sorry."
She took another sip, needing a moment. Because the way he had just ripped the Band-aid off and brought up the attack . . . it was nice having it out in the open. But it made sense, because Oliver Queen was the first person she had met since her attack that would understand people tiptoeing around you, people who had questions and just didn't know how to ask.
"Thank you," she said, meeting his gaze. "And-and the same for you. I'm sorry."
Oliver nodded a little, not looking away from her. "You're okay?"
Shrugging her shoulders half-heartedly, she tried to smile. "I'm surviving." She paused and shook her head. "No, that's what I did for the last five years. Now . . . now I'm trying to live." Her smile felt a little more natural now. "Attempting to write again . . . learning to enjoy the things I had to give up for a while. Like this."
"Coffee?" he asked, raising his cup to his mouth. Felicity thought he might have been smiling but was hiding it behind drinking.
"Oh, no, I never gave up coffee. That would be impossible. No, I meant more just being out in the world. Feeling like I'm more than just me, that I'm part of something bigger, instead of hiding and trying to blend in."
"Is that the reason for your hair?" he asked, sounding curious. No, not just curious-intrigued. Like she was some kind of puzzle.
Felicity didn't know how to feel about that. She hated mysteries herself-she had an almost pathological need to solve them. But she had never thought someone might consider her a mystery. And then there was the flutter of Oliver Queen being the one who wanted to figure her out.
The world was very strange sometimes.
"I suppose so," she said, running a hand lightly over her hair. "My friend Sara encouraged me-she said I'd look hot, which is the kind of thing your best friend has to say, isn't it?-and it didn't seem like a bad idea. I wanted to start living my life for myself and no one else. Because it's my choice."
Oliver looked . . . kinda dumbstruck. Which was a bit adorable, really. She felt her cheeks go pink and quickly drank some coffee. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a freshman who just got a C in Philosophy 101. I've just . . . I've been thinking about all of this a lot lately and you made the mistake of asking, so . . ."
"No, no," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm glad that you're so . . . you." He frowned. "It's good that you still believe that the world has something good about it. Or at least a reason to keep trying to find it-that's what I'm trying to say."
Her eyebrows knitted together as she considered his words. Considered him, actually. Because . . . because all the coverage of Oliver Queen since his return had been not that different to what it had been before. Ollie the playboy, all charm and flash. Club owner, life of the party, billionaire. And it wasn't that he didn't seem to be that . . . but it really didn't fit with the man sitting in front of her.
For one thing, he was so thoughtful. So self-contained. Like he would be perfectly happy to sit here in silence, drinking coffee and people-watching. Not exactly the behavior you'd expect from someone with his reputation.
Five years ago, she thought he had potential to be more than what he was. A better writer, definitely . . . and maybe even a better man. Now, seeing him like this, even with not knowing what he had been through, she felt like she had been right. Because she liked the man sitting across from her. She kind of wished that the whole world could know this Oliver, instead of the one he was in the newspapers and gossip sites-that he didn't feel like he had to put on an act, like he had when he had interrupted her coffee deliberations.
And now she had been sitting here like a bump on a log while all of this was swirling in her mind. She wasn't sure what was worse: clearly getting lost in her thoughts, or burying him under an avalanche of babble.
"I'm sorry-I didn't mean to go all quiet on you." She sat up straight in her chair. "I'd like to ask you a question."
"Fire away," he said, his voice neutral as he lifted his cup.
"Have you thought any about doing some writing?"
He paused, the cup half-lowered, and looked at her in confusion. "What?"
"That probably wasn't what you were expecting," she said, flashing a grin at him.
"No . . . although you're not the first person to ask me about it." At her inquiring look, he smiled a little. "Tommy wanted to know if I was interested in continuing with Frat Boy Fraternity."
Felicity did her best to hold back her own reaction, searching Oliver's face to see what he thought. But since he just gazed back at her, she decided to keep going. "Are you interested in that?"
To her silent relief, he shook his head. "No . . . it doesn't fit me now."
Nodding in understanding, she popped the lid off her coffee and added some more sugar. "I think you should try writing again. Maybe figure out what you want to write this time, instead of just going along with what you fell into."
"Why?" he asked, leaning forward like he had earlier. Felicity took a breath, feeling thankful for the table that kept him at a somewhat safe distance . . . yet also a little resentful.
"I just-I always thought you could be a good writer. I'd like to see if I'm right," she said quietly, watching as his face softened even as his gaze intensified, making her feel like she was the only person in the world.
Oliver opened his mouth to speak but the sound of a cell phone made Felicity startle, yet he only leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone. "Sorry-Diggle, what is it?"
She watched him, not even fully listening to his conversation, as she tried to fit the pieces of him together into a picture that made sense. But she couldn't.
"I'm sorry, but I have to get going," Oliver said as soon as he hung up the phone. He started to stand, then paused in a kind of half-crouch that should have looked awkward but didn't-not even a little bit. "It was really nice to see you, Felicity."
"Likewise," she said, smiling at him and trying to not think about how she should give him her number. But instead, she just lifted up her coffee and said, "And thank you."
There was that little half-smile again. She could get addicted to that expression, she thought with a slight blush. "You're welcome." He tapped his fingers against the table and finished standing up. "I'll see you around."
Before she could say anything else, he turned and walked away. Felicity found herself watching him go. Not just because wow, how had she not noticed he looked as good from the back as he did from the front, but also . . . because she wished they had gotten to talk longer.
XXX
Starling City Tattler, December 7, 2012
Who's the Mystery Blonde With Ollie?
The gossip blogosphere heated up yesterday when candid pictures of Oliver Queen and an unknown woman hit the wires. You might think, 'so what?' but trust us on this, you'll want to see these photos. Taken at Jitters, that popular coffee spot for those seeking as much caffeine as possible, the billionaire and the beauty (albeit a nerdy one) were quite cozy as they sipped coffees at a window side table. Weigh in, Tattler readers: just who is the blonde who's captured Ollie's attention?
Starling City Examiner, December 12, 2012
Society Beat: Queen Holiday Gala Highlight of Holiday Season
With Oliver Queen's return, the most tragic of Starling City's first families has something to celebrate this Christmas. That's why everyone is expecting their holiday gala on Saturday night to be the event of the year. Invitations are already highly prized for the first Christmas party in five years at the Queen mansion.
Wall Street Journal, December 17, 2012
Queen Consolidated Seeks Stability (excerpts)
Although the beleaguered company saw a brief rise to their stock prices with the return of Oliver Queen, they have returned to previous levels. Although current CEO Walter Steele has held down the fort-and is married to Moira Dearden Queen-clearly investors want a Queen to head up the company.
Wired, December 2012
All We Want for Christmukkah (excerpts)
A new book from Felicity Smoak: You could count on the brainy Smoak to give you a new perspective on technology, whether she was examining the inner workings of corporate tech giants or speculating about where the field should go. But it's been five years and other than a few articles, including one of our personal favorites (Wired, July 2010), there's been little from our tech goddess. So in 2013, here's hoping we get word about something new from Ms. Smoak!
End, Chapter 1