Felicity adjusted her uniform polo while walking behind her supervisor.
It was her first day being an IT technical support officer. Although she was still attending college, her application was impressive enough to get her the job. It probably had to do with the fact that she was currently attending MIT, her third year by the way, and she was able to trace and delete the emails her supervisor accidentally sent.
Of course Felicity could just get a job as a barista or a salesclerk at an electronics store, but her pockets had been bawling for days. She had a scholarship that was covering her books, tuition, and necessities, but she didn't have any pocket money for a shirt or a certain laptop with a certain processor.
And who knows? Maybe this job could somehow give her a clearer view on what she wanted to pursue once she graduated.
"And here is where the customers complain," her supervisor, Mr. Young, declared.
The room was a wide expanse of cubicles with roughly thirty people manning them. Telephone rings, chatterings, and keyboard clacks filled up the room. The walls had Microsoft logos plastered all over and random quotes (she couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle at "Your most unhappy customers are your greatest source of learning," said by Bill Gates), and in one corner there were a coffee machine and a box of bagels. The windows overlooked the city beneath them.
Mr. Young brought her over to her cubicle which was conveniently placed next to the windows. He pulled out the computer chair and gestured for her to sit down, which she gladly did.
"You're our youngest employee, Ms. Smoak," he said. "But that doesn't mean you're any less than the rest. In fact, I think you're the most qualified despite you still being in college."
"This is how I start my spring break, sir. Computers and chatting up customers," Felicity said lightly but then cursed mentally. "I mean, not that I took this job just to flirt with the customers. I'm here to help. Just like I helped you with your little … mix-up."
He nodded, eyes flashing around as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping. "Uh, yeah. So you know the basics, right?"
"Answer calls, guide them, the whole shebang."
"Exactly. And … ?"
"And do not piss them off or accidentally further destroy their console." She hesitated before asking, "How exactly did that happen?"
"Let's just say the person wasn't qualified enough and did exactly what you were not intending to do when you accepted this job." He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Ohhh." She processed his words. "Ohhhh."
"Mm-hmm. Now that that's settled, I'm gonna head up onto my office. If any problems occur, don't hesitate to ask any one of your co-workers, all right?" He tapped her desk once. "You'll do fine considering your resumé is on point."
"And my hands-on skills — oh God, that sounded incredibly — "
Mr. Young left.
" — dirty," she finished quietly, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Good job there, Smoak."
Sighing, she picked up the headset and booted up the computer. Just sitting in her personal cubicle made her feel like she wasn't a college student. She felt like she already had a career. Maybe an occupation similar to this would be in her future.
Felicity made adjustments to the settings for her own comfort. She opened up the chat program and clicked the online button. She turned on her headset and let out a deep breath.
Before she could see if any updates were needed with the computer, the telephone rang. For a brief moment, she panicked at the suddenness. At the second ring, she let out another deep breath and pressed the talk button.
With an bright and hopefully calm voice, Felicity answered, "Microsoft te — "
"My LIVE isn't working," the customer interrupted. He was obviously a man because his voice was, well, masculine. Unless he was a she, and he/she had a masculine voice because of some surgery they underwent.
Felicity remembered the basic questions her supervisor ran her through the day before when it came to Xbox problems. "All right — " she didn't want to say "sir" or "ma'am" in case she got their gender wrong " — were you able to connect to LIVE before?"
The voice on the other line scoffed. "Uh, yeah. That's why I called you."
Great. Her first customer on her first day had an attitude. "Have you tried testing out your LIVE connection?"
"Look," the guy/girl with an attitude sighed. "I've tried everything. Can't you connect through or whatever and make it work? I could just buy another one, but my credit card was revoked." He/she broke off in curses.
Whoa, sorry there, rich guy — girl — whatever you are. "Okay, if you really did everything, then you will have to reset your console to its factory settings — "
And yet again, he/she interrupted her, "Wait, what the hell? Does that mean I have to delete all the data?"
"It will only reset the console's network settings."
"Okay, walk me through again. I tested the connection, but it's not working." He/she was quiet for a moment. "Damn it, if only my card wasn't revoked I wouldn't be dealing with this shit."
She rolled her eyes. "What type of error is it showing?"
"Uhhh, ICMP."
"I'm sorry, but like I said, you're going to have to write down or remember your console's network settings and restore it back to factory settings." She could easily just —
She shook her head. Nope. She couldn't. Her supervisor was absolutely ecstatic once she deleted the emails, but he told her he would have to immediately fire her if she did it while on the job. Apparently her extra "skills" were frowned upon in this company. Some people just weren't open to other means of solving technical problems.
The customer groaned on the other line. After hearing him or her complain for a while, she realized he or she had an attractive voice. It was wrong on so many levels because one: how in the hell could a voice be attractive? And two: she could possibly be a lesbian, or turning into one, if the customer turned out to be a woman. Not that it was a problem, but that would mean she had to learn to accept her newly discovered orientation and come out of the metaphorical closet to her friends.
"That sounds so freakin' complicated. Isn't there another way?"
Well, you're making it even more complicated by skipping procedures and — ugh! Focus, Felicity. I'm sure there are worst customers … even though I'm beginning to doubt it. She cleared her throat as if it was going to brush away some of her irritation. "Are you wired or wireless — " Sir or ma'am?
The customer sighed, and she could've sworn he/she said something insulting. "Wireless. How the hell does that deal with my problem? All you've been doing is asking me these goddamn questions and I'm still not connecting. I could call your company up and have you — "
This time, Felicity did the interrupting. "Are you a man or a woman?"
"Wh-What?"
"Just answer the question. I think I will be able to do my job better if I knew whether to call you 'sir' or 'ma'am,' 'cause frankly, it's been bothering me ever since I answered your call. I mean, initially, you're obviously a male what with how masculine you sound, but it's the freakin' 21st century and changes are transpiring. And hey! I'm just following procedure, dude — dudette. See? Told you. My supervisor told me that I had to go through the basic questions when it comes to network problems with LIVE, so excuse me. By the way, you didn't answer my question." As soon as she stopped, she wanted to shrivel up on the ground. She made an oath not to babble at work especially towards a customer, but that was what happened if someone riled her up or if she was nervous.
The customer was quiet for a while until he/she let out a slight chuckle. "I'm — " another chuckle escaped, almost as if he/she was struggling to not let out a full-blown laugh " — I'm a guy, ma'am."
Relief squeezed its way through her embarrassment and irritation. Now she didn't have to struggle — and go through the process of lesbian enlightenment. She wouldn't mind suddenly being lesbian, though. There were a couple of TV actresses she wouldn't mind turning lesbian or bi-sexual for. "Okay, thank you very much, sir. Now I can offer you my services to the highest of standards." And cue her embarrassment growing tenfold along with a red blush on her cheeks.
"Oh? And what other services do you provide?" The flirtatious tone was crystal clear, and she had to grab onto the edge of the cubicle to prevent from falling because holy damn, his voice got even more attractive.
Felicity clenched her teeth and attempted to steady her heart rate. First, he was irritating her and now, he was flirting with her. What the hell? "I'm — I'm so — I apologize, sir! I tend to babble and say things that usually have a double entendre or are entirely inappropriate in certain situations."
"That's perfectly fine. I have that effect on most people." Beneath the flirtatiousness, she could hear the cockiness seeping through, revealing the customer's true nature.
The irritation made its appearance yet again. Why were the attractive ones usually arrogant? "So your console is wireless, isn't that right? If the previous steps were of no avail, then perhaps you need to disconnect your third-party headset — "
"What's your name?"
Oh God, he wasn't being serious. "It's Felicity."
"Felicity … ?"
No way in hell was she going to tell him her last name. She wasn't some paranoid freak thinking that he was going to use his money to find her and ruin her life.
Or, yeah, she was a paranoid freak thinking that he was going to use his money to find her and ruin her life. Her skills gave her a sense of paranoia apparently.
"First, sir, you have to disconnect the headset from its base station," Felicity instructed, refusing to answer him. "Afterwards, test your LIVE connection."
His response was quick. "Not working."
She closed her eyes and remembered the breathing exercises she learned from those torturous two weeks of yoga. Breathe in, breathe out. Try not to let negativities such as arrogant, flirtatious, and attractive men mess around with you.
Once she opened her eyes, she let out one deep breath and continued dealing with him. "Sir," she said slowly, "did you even attempt to do it?"
"Yeah." He was a horrible liar. "So what do I do now, Felicity?"
The way he said her name made her feel tingly and warm. "Th-Then you should check for any wireless interferences."
"Are you a blonde or brunette?"
"Sir. Do you not want your situation to be settled or not?"
"Felicity." Yet again, tingles and warmth spread throughout her being. "I'm pretty sure as soon as you babbled, my Xbox has been far from my mind."
Her jaw was ajar at that confession. She ripped the headset away from her and ended the call. She knew she shouldn't have done so and that she would've gotten fired, but that — that guy was making her feel really strange on her first day of work. That just wasn't right.
At the thought of getting fired, Felicity traced the call. The customer's location was all the way in Hanover.
Her eyebrows rose. Apparently her attractive customer — just his voice! — was attending Dartmouth College. Considering the fact that he was rich, she wasn't surprised. Since he kept complaining and refused to follow simple protocol, she guessed he was most likely bought into that school.
Holy. Shit.
Her customer was freakin' Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy extraordinaire of Starling City.
And it wasn't only his voice that was attractive.
Four days passed. Luckily, Mr. Queen did not grace his presence telephonically. So far. She thought he would immediately call her up again once he realized that his LIVE connection was working since she used her "special skills" to connect through his console and fix up the problem.
The insufferable, arrogant idiot didn't even test his LIVE connection. The only problem was network connection. All he had to do was — wait for it — unplug and plug his internet cable.
With a few clacks on her keyboard, it worked. No doubt it did.
Of course out of all the tech support companies under Microsoft, what are the chances of him connecting to her line?
"So ethernet is not the same thing as internet?" her customer asked for the billionth time.
Felicity prevented the urge to sigh. "Yes, ma'am. Now, since your computer is up and running, goodbye," she said resolutely. After Oliver Queen, she had a tendency to hang up on her customers before they did. She wondered how much she could do that until the supervisor caught on and put her in her place.
Well, at least she wasn't hacking into their databases. Anymore, anyway.
"Yo, Smoak," Barbara, one of her co-workers, called.
Felicity leaned back to regard her. "Yeah?"
"I'm chatting with this guy, and for some reason, he is requesting to connect with you."
Oh, you have got to be kidding me. "Wh-What do you mean?" she asked, playing coy. She didn't want Barbara to rat her out because she was "chatting up" the customers.
"He specifically requested for a 'Felicity Smoak' the entire time I have chatted with him."
"Wait, how do you know he's a guy?"
"That was his greeting, apparently. Look." She rotated the monitor until it was facing Felicity.
I'm a guy. U got Felicity Smoak? it said on the screen.
Felicity ignored the raised eyebrow Barbara had on and opened up the chatbox. She typed in Oliver's code number and connected with him.
Hello, sir. How may I be of assistance? she unwillingly typed.
A few seconds later, a ping! came. This Felicity?
Are you having any problems with your computer, sir?
Hey. Been tryin to contact u. Luckily I asked one of my dad's tech guys to find u.
"Yup, that's not creepy at all," Felicity said to herself. But strangely, she was flattered. He went through all this trouble to find her?
At that thought, she shook her head. She was well-aware of his mannerisms when it came to dating and women in general. He was crude towards them, and he had no morals whatsoever. Based on what she had read on tabloids, he was your typical party boy. Usually Felicity wouldn't believe the bullshit the journalists wrote in there, but she'd seen his attitude on television, too. Unfortunately his good looks did not make up for peeing on a cop.
Do you have any technical problems or not, sir?
Yea I do Miss Smoak. Dont have ur #.
The fact that he knew her last name worried her immensely. Since his family was swimming in billions, he could easily use one of his dad's "tech guys" again to find her.
Now that she thought about it, he could've used the tech guys to find her instead of finding what company she worked under. She was glad he wasn't that clever.
My name's Meghan. It was her middle name, but it was worth a shot.
Felicity Meghan Smoak. Cute. Yeah, if he knew her last name, he would know her full name.
Sir, if you do not have any problems, I am going to disconnect this chat.
Ok fine. My phone isnt working.
It was strange. She could read the dishonesty underneath those words. He was that horrible of a liar.
So, she went back to his records. (She had to keep them in file in case a situation like this came up again. Not for any other reason.) She found his cellphone number and traced it.
Yeah. It was still working.
Are you sure? My sources tell me that your phone is, in fact, working.
Shit. U a hacker? That makes you even hotter.
She wondered if he knew how she looked like. Hopefully he didn't find out that she recently started dyeing her hair based on her old pictures. She made a mental note to delete all her brunette days.
Oh, but she still blushed. Even through messaging? That was kind of pathetic for her.
This is an entirely inappropriate conversation.
Dont see u runnin.
Felicity noticed one side of her mouth was quirked up. She couldn't deny that he was pretty charming. If only he wasn't a spoiled, disrespectful, and arrogant guy. As if she had a chance with him considering his reputation and status. She bet other girls fell under this charming demeanor he had on.
Unknowingly, her fingers typed with their own accord. I don't like mysteries.
As she waited for his response, she realized what she typed and disconnected the chat. She rolled back on her computer chair to rest her forehead on the table.
He was a mystery. A bad one. Why was he perseveringly looking for her? He could have any girl he wanted but he chose to find her, an MIT chick miles and miles away from him.
He's probably bored out of his mind. Rich people find entertainment in the strangest of ways, she reasoned with herself mentally.
During her lunch break, Felicity ate her Chinese takeout at her cubicle. She could eat at the break room, but she had enough of the snide remarks whispered behind her back. She learned to ignore them while at work, but she didn't think she could handle it during break surrounded by them all.
Majority of her co-workers had their masters in computer information systems and computer science. Some were even alumnuses of her school (they were also the more indignant ones). The fact that a current college student was hired to work alongside her superiors was, well, a large slap to their ego.
Barbara was tolerable. She treated her like a co-worker, nothing more and nothing less. She appreciated that.
It just got lonely sometimes especially considering how ever since she got this job she barely had time for her friends back at MIT.
The job was meant for the entirety of spring break. She managed to earn enough funds to cover her last semester and have a few spare cash for herself. However tech support, being surrounded by technology and being able to tinker around with no matter how trivial the task, was really something she wouldn't mind pursuing after graduation. Although the pay didn't have her surrounded by luxuries, it was enough to get her by and that was all right.
After slurping another handful of noodles, she set the box on her table and resumed tinkering around with her tablet.
"Oliver Queen is at it again, folks! Just recently, he was spotted with another brunette tucked under his arms and allegedly concealing herself by donning — "
Okay, not tinkering. She couldn't help but keep up with Oliver Queen's daily doings (that wasn't meant to have a double meaning). It wasn't her fault her finger accidentally subscribed to TMZ (and Star Magazine, National Enquirer, Life&Style … )
"Looks like Mr. Queen has a type," Felicity muttered to herself. She was a natural brunette. She dyed her hair. Just two days ago, she touched up on her roots, but still — he was barely seen with blondes.
Ping!
Her head whipped towards the monitor. She forgot to turn off her online services. She set her tablet next to her food and opened up the chat box.
She groaned. It was the customer who didn't know the freakin' difference between ethernet and internet. She had the customer's code number memorized because of how many times she requested her services. Miss Ethernet was well-known around the company, and since they disliked Felicity heavily, they would redirect the call or chat over to Felicity.
Miss Ethernet was requesting to video chat. Felicity was online, so she had no choice but to answer her call.
With intense struggle, Felicity plastered on a fake smile as soon as her favorite customer popped up.
Miss Ethernet looked like she just woke up what with the bird's nest perched comfortably on her head. She had on a loose tank top — good God, it was like the woman didn't own a bra — and square-shaped spectacles. She was staring intently at her phone.
"Yes, ma'am?" Felicity asked politely. She knew Miss Ethernet's name, but if she uttered it, she was afraid she would forever be stuck with her. It was a superstition that floated around the workplace, and it haunted her daily.
No wonder why Oliver Queen bothered her incessantly. Well, not incessantly. He did not bother her for almost a month already.
Must be with that leggy brunette he was spotted with, she thought bitterly. Whatever. It wasn't like she cared that he didn't have any time to bother her with his fake excuses.
Miss Ethernet scowled at her phone. "Why isn't my phone turning on?" she whined.
Are you freakin' kidding me? "Did you try pressing the on button?"
This time, her customer threw the scowl at her. "I'm not stupid! Of course I did! A million times!"
Well, no wonder why. The poor phone must be suffering from intense abuse from its owner. Maybe I should report this to the officials. Technological abuse. That should be a law. No technology should ever be abused by its owner — or anything else for that matter. Felicity never stopped mentally rambling when it came to customers such as Miss Ethernet. Eventually, she tracked their codes and fixed up the problem herself.
"Oh! I found the problem!" Miss Ethernet exclaimed happily.
Felicity let out a slow, deep breath. "And what is it, ma'am?"
"I didn't charge it. Silly, silly me!"
The end chat button was immediately clicked on. She should create a program that signaled her whenever one of her damn co-workers forced her to deal with this aggravating customer. She was sick and tired of her petty problems. She didn't even own a Microsoft product!
Another ping! came. Felicity's temper boiled. She pressed accept, ready to spew out insults towards Miss Ethernet.
However, as soon as an extremely handsome, blue-eyed man appeared, she let out an eep! and fell off her chair.
Heartbeats were coming way too fast. Mortification spread throughout her being. Her hands curled on the carpeted floor. She was on all fours, and she was glad she wore a romper or else she would be flashing the people out the window.
"Felicity Smoak?" a smooth voice said amusedly. "Are you all right there?"
She wondered if he saw her face. Perhaps he already knew how she looked like. She could not face him. It was bad enough hearing his voice and reading his messages with his voice in her head.
"Not gonna show me your pretty face?"
That question implied two things. One: he didn't see her and wanted to, and two: he used his dad's tech guys again to search up her profile and wanted to ridicule her.
Still on the ground, Felicity stuttered out, "Wh-Wh-What seems to be the problem again, sir?" Her cheeks reddened immensely. God, she was an idiot.
"The problem is, is that I can't see your face, Felicity." What was with him and saying her name unnecessarily? Was he aware what her body did every time her name escaped his lips so sensually?
"I'm having a wiring problem here. If I, uh, let go of one of the wires, our connection will be lost," she lied easily.
"Hmmm, we wouldn't want that now, would we?"
Felicity let out a sigh of relief.
"Why do I get the feeling that you're a blonde?"
She stiffened.
"Yeah … You're probably 5'6"? 5'5"?"
Her arms began trembling. She was tempted to just collapse on the floor.
"What color are your eyes, Felicity? Green? Brown? Blue?"
"S-Sir, this is a highly inappropriate conversation," Felicity attempted to say resolutely. "If you do not have any problems with your — "
"I bet you got nice lips." His tone was low and melting with sensuality. "Lips that will make a man drive crazy when you bite the lower one. I bet you got a sexy, curvy body, and I would make sure to use it to my advantage and make you scream my — "
"Oliver!" Felicity exclaimed. Her entire body was shaking. Warmth filled her veins, and her eyes closed shut in an attempt to calm herself.
"Oh? I see you know who I am."
At that, her eyes snapped open. She stopped shaking. She could've sworn her heart stopped beating, as well.
"I mean, who wouldn't know me? But the way you said it makes me think that you knew it was me from the get-go. Tell me, Felicity. Did you use your incredibly attractive skills — " Felicity was an expert in double entendres; she didn't miss it " — to find out who I am?"
She stayed silent. Her voice would betray her. She would babble. She couldn't contain any more mortification. She might explode.
"To avoid you disconnecting our little chat again, I'll do you a favor and hang up myself. Can't wait to talk again, Felicity Smoak. Next time, though, let's meet in person."
Felicity waited a few seconds before popping her head up to see if he truly did hang up. She saw the words videochat disconnected and sat on her chair. She placed her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands.
She didn't realize how involved she was with Oliver Queen until now.
Once she began worrying about how much money she would use for toilet tissue, Felicity knew she was going to die financially.
Being a current student at MIT was supposed to be the shining beacon on her resumé. Unfortunately, when her interviewers called up her previous employer, she was immediately rejected. Till this day, nobody liked a hacker. (Why were her people called that anyway?)
The day after Oliver Queen's cyber seducing method, Felicity encrypted her entire software. She made sure Miss Ethernet's and Oliver Queen's codes never popped up on her server or anyone else's in the company.
Also, if any of her co-workers even attempted to direct their aggravating customers towards her, an error page would appear on their screen, temporarily crashing their software and getting a scolding out of Mr. Young.
Needless to say, she blamed Oliver for her hacking spree.
Barbara caught up on her discreet methods. Felicity failed to realize that before she got hired Barbara was considered the top-notch employee of the company. She really should have gotten an acting degree because Felicity was completely unaware of Barbara's intense hatred towards her.
What was even more shocking was that Barbara created the rumor that Felicity was having an affair with Mr. Young and used her "criminal ways" to erase any evidence of their relationship.
Mr. Young had no choice but to fire Felicity. His eyes were filled with regret and fright. It was most likely because he thought she might bring back the emails she was ordered to delete.
She didn't, though. But she completely wiped out Barbara's software from the company computer she used and her personal laptop. Any means of evidence directed towards Felicity was non-existent.
Of course, Barbara threatened to sue her and brought the attention to the higher-ups. However, Felicity's ex-co-worker was unaware that she deleted one of the execs' nude pictures he accidentally sent to his mother.
Seriously. What was up with the people in this company?
Anyway, Felicity's name got a tainted reputation with all the other companies she applied for. Microsoft was pure luck. What company would hire a college student? Maybe she should apply for a smaller job instead, like a barista as she planned to initially. She liked coffee anyway.
With both hands, Felicity held two different toilet tissue brands: 1-ply and 2-ply.
"I can't believe my life has come to this," she said, sighing. She dumped the 2-ply in her shopping cart.
As she strolled down the junk food aisle, she saw a couple interacting next to the cereal box section. She stopped behind them and eyed the popcorn brands with eagerness.
"I think we should get ice cream instead," a very, very, very familiar voice stated.
Holy motherfu — please do not tell me that's — why me? Why is it always me? Now I know how Neville feels like, Felicity thought hopelessly. She shouldn't be surprised, though. This was Vegas. (She was reluctantly visiting her mother.) Party boys could spend their life partying here. Sleep in through the day since Vegas wasn't known for their daylight events, party hard all through the night.
It was really sad and pathetic that she had his voice embedded in her memories. Who could blame her, though? The dude practically had her panting with his words only.
Felicity closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She roughly grabbed a popcorn packet and attempted to read the nutrition facts, ears listening intently.
Oh great, Felicity. Now you're eavesdropping on his conversation.
"Ollie, you should try these. They taste amazing," the girl next to him gushed. Using her peripheral vision, Felicity saw that she was brunette. A gorgeous brunette. With nice, smooth skin. Of-freakin'-course.
Ollie? she thought curiously. Must be close friends. Yeah. Friends.
"Yeah, but I don't really eat junk food. Besides, ice cream's much more fun to eat, Laurel," Oliver said in a low, husky tone.
Felicity had to prevent her knees from wobbling. She was squeezing the life out of the popcorn packet. Her eyes could see Laurel grin wickedly at him, biting her bottom lip seductively. If only she could see Oliver …
That was right. This was the first time she could see Oliver Queen up close and not at all personal, in his handsome glory. He wasn't even surrounded by paparazzi. Who else could get a chance like this?
Determined, Felicity dropped the packet in the cart. She slowly, and as naturally as possible, headed for the cookies section — which was two products down from the couple.
I just need to see his face. That's it. Then I'm good. I'll go home and cook up some instant noodles 'cause I'm exhausted as hell. I'll probably apply for Stellmoor Industries while I eat, too. Yeah. Good plan. Felicity nodded to herself and took a peek.
Oliver was wearing a gray hoodie and most likely designer jeans. He had a pair of sunglasses hanging on the neck of his hoodie and a baseball cap tucked in the back of his pockets. No wonder why the paparazzi wasn't clamoring around him. It was a lazy disguise, but it seemed to work, Felicity guessed.
His face turned back to the cereal box, and she sucked in a breath.
Photos did not do his face justice. At. All.
His face was clean-shaven and blemish-free. His eyes were a beautiful blue, twinkling with ease and delight. He had a pretty boy type of haircut, but all in all, he was still the same attractive man posted on so many tabloids she still followed.
She was too lazy to unsubscribe.
Laurel eyed the cereal boxes in the basket Oliver was holding. "I don't think I brought enough money for these … ," she said worriedly. "I didn't bring my card, just ten dollars. Someone was rushing me."
"Why are you worrying so much? I'll buy 'em."
"No, Oliver. Just yesterday, you bought me a massage chair. We're in Vegas, which I'm still processing. You don't buy massage chairs for me in a place I don't even live in."
"Hey, you only need to use that when I'm not around. You, of all people, should know that I'm good with my hands."
Felicity rolled her eyes at that. Ugh, how could she be attracted to this egocentric jerk?
Her eyes traveled down to his hands. She couldn't help but wonder, though …
Laurel gave him a look, but it was shining with playfulness. "I'm pretty sure thirty other girls would know, as well, Ollie." She looked at the basket again. "How much would this be, though?"
Oliver shrugged. "Dunno. Got a D in Algebra 2."
That wasn't news for Felicity.
She leaned her head back until she saw the cereal boxes Laurel was planning on buying. Quickly, she did the mental math.
"Laurel, save yourself the headache and let me — "
"$12.97."
There was no use in looking around if somebody else said that because Felicity was pretty sure they were the only three in this aisle. It was also 10 at night.
Internally, she panicked. She saw their heads slowly turn in her direction. Lies swirled around her brain. Oliver might recognize her voice — she wasn't being conceited, like "Oh, Oliver might remember my voice since he was most likely interested in me given the fact that he asked his father's tech slaves to track me down"; she just wanted to make sure — so she would force her voice to be hoarse and pretend she had a sore throat.
Huh. She really was a genius to formulate a plan in a span of —
Laurel, peeking out from behind Oliver's gargantuan form, smiled politely. "What did you say?" she asked.
Felicity cleared her throat, which was a good thing. She had to keep up the sore throat act. "$12 — " Hoarser, Felicity! "It's, uh, $12.97."
Oliver Queen was looking at her. But with disinterest. However, she saw him appraise her, eyes gradually looking at her form up and down. She felt a sense of embarrassment crawl within her knowing that he was judging her loose sweater, leggings, and panda flats. Also, her hair was in a scary disarray, curls sticking out everywhere.
She didn't know which she should be more mortified of: her wardrobe or the shopping basket containing 2-ply toilet tissue and cheap red wine.
"Oh, thanks! Does that include the sales discount?" Laurel inquired.
Clearing her throat again, Felicity asked, "Sales discount?" She tried to remain natural, but it was difficult considering Oliver Queen was a few feet away from her and staring.
"20%," the man himself said.
"Roughly … $10.38, I believe," Felicity replied with ease. She wanted to give herself a pat on the back.
Although it wasn't prominent, an impressed look flitted on Oliver's face briefly.
"Thank you again," Laurel said, smiling so beautifully. Oliver sure knew how to pick 'em. Felicity could tell that she wasn't his usual one-night hook-ups. They seemed close and had a history.
"You're — " Oh. Yeah. Sore throat. " — welcome." Okay, yeah, that was too much hoarseness to handle. Her throat was actually starting to itch.
The couple started to depart but before they left, Laurel waved and said, "Hope your sore throat heals soon."
Felicity smiled at that. She saw Oliver glance back at her briefly before turning his attention back to his girlfriend.
Felicity woke up from the ringing of her cell phone. Her head snapped up from her coffee table, eyes groggy and drool displayed nicely on the side of her mouth. She wiped it off with her sleeve and pushed away all the job applications mocking her incessantly away to answer her phone.
Just pick already! Stellmoor or Wayne? she berated herself internally. She ended up having a job at the bookstore in MIT. Before she fell asleep, she was checking out companies she could apply for after she graduated. She had another year to go, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Hopefully she had a clean slate by the time she graduated.
"Ugh, ew," she muttered. "Hello?"
"Sara," came a male and incredibly, incredibly familiar voice. No doubt it was a male. She made that clarification months ago.
Felicity cleared her throat, heart beating fast. "No, sorry. You've got the wrong number." What are the chances of him misdialing my number?
She heard a sigh at the other end. "Yeah, no. It's — It's my fault," Oliver said, actually sounding like a decent human being. She assumed something was wrong. He sounded tired and troubled.
I can actually read his voice. Having it memorized has its perks, I guess, she thought, eyebrows furrowing.
She shook her head automatically. "It's fine. I've had my share of misdialed calls. I called up a Chinese restaurant to order, but it was actually a sex hotline. It was a woman, and once she found out my gender, she got even more breathy. It seriously freaked me out."
It was quiet on his end. " … Felicity Smoak?" he asked, incredulity in his tone.
Aforementioned woman closed her eyes briefly, cursing herself inwardly. She shouldn't have babbled. She thought her telephonic occurrences with him have come to an end.
"Yes, this is she," she said reluctantly. No use hiding it. "And you're Oliver Queen."
He let out a slight chuckle. "Wow. Um, long time, no chat."
"Yeah, long time."
Either he got past his incessant flirtings with her or he was truly bothered by something. He didn't have anything to say right off the bat that would most likely bring a reaction out of her.
"Do you still work at Microsoft?" Oliver asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Guess he didn't check me up after that last meeting of ours, Felicity thought, feeling embarrassment all over again just thinking about it. I really was just another girl he wanted to play around with.
She dispelled those negative thoughts out. It shouldn't even matter anyway. He had a gorgeous girlfriend, and they lived in completely different worlds despite living in the same city. What did she exactly expect out of their uncommon meetings?
Felicity answered him, "I don't, actually. I got fired." Great. Tell him your entire life's story now.
"What? Why?" He sounded genuinely surprised.
"My kind aren't taken too lightly apparently."
"Ah. Sorry to hear that. Listen, I gotta — "
She interrupted him, "Are you all right?"
He was silent again. She should really learn from him when it came to silence.
"Fuck," Oliver cursed suddenly. "I'm just not what … I can't be what they want. I can't live up to anyone's expectations. I'll only bring them down — everyone down. I'm stuck between my temptations and expectations and what I actually want. I just … "
Felicity had no idea what he was talking about, and that was good. She shouldn't know. Hearing him express his troubles, albeit vaguely, though? It conveyed just how normal Oliver Queen was. He may be an obnoxious playboy as the tabloids portrayed him to be, but it was how his life was. He had to live up to expectations. She didn't know which expectations exactly — being a Queen? Being a party boy? — but to know that he had issues like everybody else and was deeply troubled by them was enough for her to dislike him less.
Like she actually disliked him. She was intrigued by him. She didn't have any ill feelings toward him.
"Do what makes you happy. It's clichéd. But do it," Felicity encouraged. She wasn't going to let him pour over his worries to her without getting a little help in return. "Do what makes you happy but not what makes you stupid. Do what makes you thrive. It's your life, but you don't have to throw it away by meeting up to other people's expectations of you or by doing idiotic stuff, and you know what I'm talking about, Oliver. You have so many opportunities, and — this may sound blunt, but I'm saying it anyway so it could get into your head — they're served to you on a gold platter. You have what other people are working so damn hard for. Use it to your advantage in which it'll help you in life, not dumb you down. Man up and do something about it."
She was speaking from experience. Her life in Vegas was only bringing her down. Getting out of Vegas and getting into MIT were the best decisions she ever made in her life. She was glad. It came with a few rough patches with her mother, but she earned it. She took advantage of opportunities such as scholarships and other financial aids.
Applying to Microsoft wasn't a regret. Although she didn't have the best memories there, at least she could say that her enemies had their comeuppance and she met a guy she didn't think she'd ever meet under the strangest circumstances. Also, she found out what she truly wanted to pursue.
In a way, Felicity wished she and Oliver became friends.
"You're an expectation I wish I could live up to," Oliver whispered into the phone. "Thank you, Felicity."
Felicity's eyes widened. Before she could say anything, all she heard was a dial tone.
When she heard about the Queen's Gambit sinking, Felicity hacked into SCPD records. Oliver was aboard along with his father, as well as Sara Lance.
Sara Lance must've been the girl he intended to call that night, she thought. And apparently her sister is Laurel, Oliver's girlfriend. Then why wasn't Laurel on board with him?
She felt numb for a few days. She was unsure why she felt that way, though. She didn't know Oliver personally. But it was the fact that she talked to him just weeks ago and found out that he was actually a normal person with issues like everybody else. It was the fact that she actually wanted to get to know him despite how he probably didn't want anything to do with her.
I need wine, she thought, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream out of its container.
She would then always wonder if her words actually meant something to him.
A throat cleared. "Felicity Smoak?"
Her head snapped up. Her hand tightened on her pen.
When she found out that Oliver was alive, she was ecstatic beyond belief. Unfortunately his father and Sara Lance were still presumed dead.
The day he came back was when she found out he was stuck on an island alone for five years. No doubt that would so something to someone. No doubt he wouldn't be the same person he was five years ago.
Bracing herself, she turned around from her chair and attempted to not swoon again at the sight of him.
While the freshly-shaven face and preppy haircut made him attractive, the stubble on his jaw and the semi-bald haircut made him look even more so and like sex on legs. While he was incredibly fit five years ago, he was now all hard muscle and just radiating strength.
His eyes were what changed the most, though. She didn't have much chance to look into them, but she could see the harsh experiences he must've faced in them. He carried burdens and scars. He was different. Alive but not really here.
"It's nice to finally meet you in the flesh," he said, smiling politely at her. It wasn't his playboy smile, but it was certainly his Queen smile. It hurt to see it. She shouldn't even feel hurt to see it.
"Of course! I know who you are; you're Mr. Queen," Felicity said, straightening herself up. (My absolute favorite customer eons ago, she added mentally.) She wasn't going to allow herself to be bothered by his presence any longer. She worked for his family. That was it.
"No, Mr. Queen was my father."
"Right, but he's dead." Crap. "I mean, he drowned." Shit! "But you didn't, which means you could come down to the IT Department and listen to me babble."
You will seriously never learn, Smoak, she chastised herself.
She continued babbling much to her dismay, "Which will end in three, two — "
"You never changed," Oliver commented, eyes lit up with amusement and warmth. This time, a genuine smile was on his lips. It was a nice sight.
A blush rose up her cheeks. "And you certainly did." And that sounded very suggestive. "Actually, we met before. At the grocery store. You were with your girlfriend, Laurel, I believe" — she saw his eyes tighten — "and I helped you with some math. I had a sore throat, but I didn't really have one. I faked it — quite well, if I do say so myself. So. Yeah."
Realization dawned on his face. "That grocery store in Vegas? Oh, that's right. There was something about you that seemed familiar. Huh." He looked away, lost in thought for a while. "I can't believe that was you."
Interestingly enough, he manages to recall a girl with a sore throat at a grocery store at 10 at night. Felicity then sensed the upcoming arrival of awkward silence. "So! What did you come down here for?"
All of a sudden, Oliver's blue eyes were right through hers. He held her gaze so strongly, and she couldn't look away.
"You know," he started quietly, "your words stuck to me throughout my five years on that island."
She knew he was talking about the time he accidentally called her. She was finally getting her answer.
Smiling at him, she said, "I'm glad."
Oliver looked down, eyebrows furrowed. He looked like he was having an argument with himself. She could see the added tension he placed upon his shoulders. It was like he was ready for an attack. His jaw was taut too.
All of a sudden, a bullet-ridden laptop was placed in front of her. Felicity's mouth opened in shock, as well as her eyes. She alternated her glances from the man presumed deceased for five years and the tortured gadget.
"Could you possibly salvage any information from it?" Oliver asked casually. He asked it so casually as if he was asking her to pick up an object from a ground.
"Th-These are bullet holes," she managed to stammer out.
He nodded, arms crossed over his chest. "They would appear so."
Felicity looked into his eyes. She saw the darkness clouding beneath inflicted by the tribulations he must've faced. There was a light, however. It made his eyes seem even more blue, and she marveled at it.
Deciding not to ask, she grabbed the laptop and inspected it. As she did so, she failed to notice Oliver's sudden presence next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to feel warmth from that touch and making her look up into his soft blue eyes.
"Thank you," he murmured again, tone quiet and gentle. The expression in his eyes matched his tone, and all Felicity could do was drown in them. Who knew his eyes would have the same effect as his voice did to her?
Once he left, the last words he said to her combined with the last words he said to her before the Queen's Gambit sunk. It repeated endlessly in her mind, and she reveled at the sound of his voice. Hearing his voice after five years gave her a new rush. It was like hearing a song that you loved so much before playing again.
Felicity had to stay back until later hours because somebody encrypted a program Applied Sciences was working accidentally. Also, one of her co-workers wanted her to fix up his radio transmitter, which was weird. (She should've picked "parking ticket" when he asked her, "Parking ticket or radio transmitter?" Damn her affinity for technology.)
Despite all of that, a grin stayed on her face throughout the day.
Felicity should be at home curled up on her couch, watching a repeat episode of her favorite shows. On the coffee table, there should be a glass of red wine and a bowl of pretzels.
But no. Instead she was still working behind her desk because one of her co-workers was reckless enough to delete a program that was a necessity to the Applied Sciences of QC. Her supervisor asked Felicity to clean up the mess her co-worker got themselves into because her damn co-worker was a newbie.
Again. Seriously, were they even training these new IT employees? It was like Felicity was in charge of cleaning up every single person's mess in this department.
Her processes all reached one-hundred percent, and Felicity resisted the urge to dance in her chair. Two security guards stayed back for her. She was pretty sure they were watching her through the surveillance cameras.
Realizing that, she thought, They must've seen me smack my head against the desk after I pulled out the wrong program. Oh well.
Felicity shut down her systems and began gathering her belongings.
"Pretzel Crisps, here I come," she muttered, standing up from her chair. She turned around and grabbed her bag.
As soon as she stood up, her blue eyes spotted the radio transmitter placed precariously at the edge of her table. The radio transmitter she procrastinated in fixing. (Actually, she just forgot even though it was right there on her table. Blame her co-workers' increase of dependence on her.)
No, wait, she blamed Oliver Queen. She spent many of her leisure time wondering why in the world he gave her a bullet-ridden laptop. After that, she never saw him again other than on social media acting like the pompous playboy he was supposed to be.
Felicity loosened her grip on her bag, causing it to fall off her shoulder carelessly. She pushed the infernal device next to her keyboard and sat down, huffing. She looked up at the security camera apologetically, but she saw that it was tilted slightly down.
Every time Felicity stayed back, the security guards would tilt the camera down just a tad — enough for Felicity to notice — to inform her that they were out on a smoke break. It was a code just between the three of them.
Okay, so he said something about weak signals … , she thought, inspecting the object.
The feeder system didn't have any corrosion or water damage. The antenna was pointing towards the transmitter and was mounted correctly. Frankly, Felicity didn't see much damage that could inform the owner of the weak signals.
Testing it out, she turned the dial and heard crackling sounds. She stayed at the current channel and checked the wires.
"Are … you freakin' kidding me?" Felicity exclaimed incredulously. One of his wires is loose! That's it! He could have done this himself, and I could have — ugh!
Effortlessly, she managed to fix the wire problem. The crackling sounds ceased.
At least he didn't pick a radio transmitter to tinker around with that that didn't service Starling City.
The security camera was still tilted down, so Felicity had to pass some time. She couldn't leave QC without them.
She turned up the volume on the transmitter and put on the headset that came with it. She felt nostalgia. It reminded her of her times working at the Microsoft company. Although she was fired due to illogical reasons, she missed it at times.
At first, Felicity heard nothing. She fiddled with the frequency knob.
" — ver, you got him?" a man's voice asked.
"I did. I'm heading back now, but I need to find an alternate route," another man's voice replied. It was affected by some sort of voice modulator.
Without thinking about it, Felicity pulled out her tablet from her bag and accessed traffic cams. She knew this was the vigilante. She just knew it. Witnesses and police officers, Detective Lance specifically, couldn't pinpoint his voice since it was distorted.
A voice couldn't be distorted unless it was powered by a device meant to distort or, more importantly, disguise. Come on now. IT nerd right here.
"You find anything yet?" the vigilante demanded impatiently.
"I'm trying! It's hard to find the cops' location using these computers."
Felicity found the cameras showing the police cars on its chase. If the Hood's partner didn't find them soon, the Hood would be caught.
"Ugh, the Hood," Felicity muttered.
"What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything, man."
Just then on her tablet, Felicity saw the vigilante on his motorcycle turn around a corner. He was heading straight to the police's direction.
Felicity panicked and said, "Turn right immediately!"
The Hood's hesitated before saying, "Felicity Smoak?"
"I got it. Turn right!"
"That's what I said." She shook her head at their slowness, but she was shocked. How the hell did the vigilante know her?
Felicity lost sight of the vigilante on the cameras, so she switched to the next one.
"There's a traffic jam coming up near you. Go through the alleyway coming up on your left. You can get out from there."
"Damn, you're fast," the other man said. "Who the hell are you?"
"Don't worry, she's a friend."
Felicity's mouth hung open. A friend? Did they somehow meet? This was the first time she actually interacted with the guy. Apparently she was missing something here.
"I was unaware you had another member."
"She's safe."
"She's right here, y'know," Felicity inputted. She looked up at the security camera facing her. It was no longer tilting down. They were going to wonder what she was doing now.
"Miss Smoak, how do you have access to our comm links?" the Hood asked her.
Fear trickled in. Was he going to kill her? He said she was a friend, but maybe he said that to all of the affluent men he killed beforehand.
"My — My co-worker's radio transmitter," she said meekly.
"Why would your co-worker have a radio transmitter?" He sounded perplexed.
"Why would an IT nerd not have a radio transmitter?"
Felicity heard a sound. Was he laughing at her? She wasn't even doing anything remotely entertaining.
This was incredibly odd. He should be threatening her for intruding, not laughing at her and being nice to her as if they were truly friends. As if they met already.
Never in her life did she ever meet the Hood. (But seriously, the Hood? Yeah, he wore a hood, but it didn't necessarily portray the persona he was trying to give off. He shot arrows, so shouldn't he be called the Arrow? Or Mr. Leatherpants?
The newscasts always showed an artist's rendition of him. Out of curiosity, she hacked into SCPD records. They, as well, had sketched pictures of his profile. Also records showed captured photos from security cameras and such. He really knew how to work that leather.
Thankfully, she didn't meet the vigilante in person. She might've been distracted by how well he wore leather. There were leather jackets on suave men, but then there were men who wore leather. In this case, man who wore — )
"Felicity?" the man himself asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"Miss Smoak."
Felicity tore off the headset and looked up. She saw the two security guards standing at the door.
"It's almost midnight, Miss Smoak. I'm afraid we have to escort you out of the building now," one of the guards said.
Quickly, she glanced down at the radio transmitter. She tore off the wires at the back, grabbed her cold coffee, and spilled it all over. The device crackled, bits of sparks coming out. After that, she deposited the useless contraption in her trashcan.
With as much casual ease she could possess, Felicity gathered her belongings once again and gave the confused-looking guards a smile.
"Let's go!"
Felicity Smoak was a genius. She graduated at the top of her class in MIT. Despite her somewhat frowned upon reputation from Microsoft, Stellmoor Industries and Wayne Enterprises asked for her employment in their companies. However, a simple yet flattering call from Mr. Walter Steele, current CEO of Queen Consolidated, managed to help make up her mind.
At least somebody appreciated her rare talent.
She was a genius. That was why she destroyed the only direct connection she had with the Hood. Certainly her co-worker would understand why the radio transmitter was obsolete.
The Hood knew her. She did not know how or why. He knew her based on her freakin' voice. It was similar to how she was well-attuned to Oliver Queen's voice.
As she walked behind the two security guards, Felicity's eyes widened.
Holy. Shit.
Felicity could've been wrong. She rarely was, but it was a mind-boggling, dangerous assumption. She barely knew Oliver, barely knew the vigilante. However, that part of herself, the one that always got tickled by mysteries, just knew they were one and the same.
Oliver Queen did get attacked by a group of men, but he was saved by the Hood. That should automatically rule him out of being the vigilante. But then again, there was also the coincidence of the Hood appearing not long after Oliver came back after five years on an island.
Other than solid muscles and even more attractiveness, there was no doubt Oliver got something else from that island. People did whatever it took to survive, and it changed them. That was a no-brainer itself.
She didn't dwell on the clues prodding her brain any longer once the mystery himself asked for her help once again.
This time, he brought his bodyguard.
I bet the bodyguard is in on it, she thought, noticing how he was eyeing her intently.
Felicity opened up her laptop. "I should add 'Personal Internet Researcher for Oliver Queen' in my job title," she joked.
Oliver smiled at her. It wasn't his playboy smile. It wasn't his Oliver Queen smile. It was a genuine smile, and Felicity found herself openly welcoming it. She no longer saw the burdens his blue eyes held but just the light in his eyes and the man in them.
"I prefer 'partner,'" he said sincerely.
At that, she looked up at him and his eyes matched the tone of his voice. His voice no longer exuded the persona as the playboy extraordinaire or the vigilante. He was himself. She noticed he was usually himself around her.
Felicity thought she was just going to be some IT girl. Of course working at Microsoft gave her a bit of perspective as to what she was going to do in the future. But that was it — just perspective. She knew she'd be working with computers and such, but something was always missing.
And Oliver was offering it to her right then and there.
His bodyguard was still eyeing her intently, but she saw a smile gracing his features.
And so adjusting her glasses, Felicity smiled and said, "Happily."
… and how she ended up being the vigilante's partner.
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— gahd, this was so long. for months, i have worked long and hard on this damn story.
this is my first olicity/arrow fanfiction. hope you guys enjoyed. i'm not sure what i feel about how the story progressed, but i worked hard and i liked it. it was supposed to be a simple story with felicity having these strange encounters with oliver through technology, but this just happened.
thank you for reading! & let us all prepare ourselves together — for the assumed greatness of season 3. "Season of Olicity."
(btw, barbara. oracle. felicity smoak's ep. just a bit of fun, heehee.)