This little nugget originated from my lovely Chelle on tumblr (newyorkcitydreaming) who prompted "Okay I'm thinking that you should write a Olicity one shot about them being trapped in an elevator at work after hours ;)". I don't think this is quite what she had in mind but this is what my muse demanded.

This story takes place during the second episode where Oliver goes with his mom and Walter to Queen Consolidated. For the purposes of this story, he doesn't know Diggle yet and so is alone as he's leaving.

I do plan on continuing this as my work and home schedule allow. It will probably be rated M since all of my fics tend to descend on way or another into the gutter, but for now we'll go with T.

Aaaand, go. Oh, I don't own Arrow or DC or any of the cool things tbh.

Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face as he made his way towards the elevator. He was still coming to terms with the fact that there was someone different, someone not his father, residing on the top floor of Queen Consolidated. He had never had a problem with Walter when he was younger, but that was mostly because the man orbited on the outer reaches of his admittedly self centered universe. To see him sitting at his father's desk, occupying that space that had only ever belonged to the patriarch of the Queen family, well, it was just… weird.

Internally sighing, Oliver reached the amber doors and punched the down button, vowing to put it, and everything they had discussed in said office, aside for another day. He had enough on his plate without adding any more stress. He stepped aside when the doors opened, letting the elevator empty before stepping into the car. Pressing the button for the lobby, he shifted his shoulders under his sport coat, the only concession he would give to the discomfort being in such a small space now gave him. He blinked, his nostrils flaring, as a slideshow of time spent in even smaller spaces on the island tried to take over. He mastered the feeling quickly with the same single minded focus he had had to adopt to survive.

The elevator began to descend and Oliver took a moment to appreciate the lack of any sort of music. He needed the peace and quiet for a few moments to regroup. Watching the floor numbers go down, he mentally went over the rest of his day. He promised his mother he would meet with a new security detail, something he was not looking forward to, and then he had plans to slip out and do some training in the basement of the factory. He had briefly considered paying a visit to Laurel, but had rejected the idea just as fast. He needed to stay focused and Laurel was the biggest distraction there was.

He shifted to the rear of the car as it slowed and then stopped. Casting his eyes down, he put off the air of casual while actually becoming hyper aware of his surroundings. His five years of hyper-vigilance on the island had him cataloging height and build of the girl who stepped on and gave him a quick smile before turning to face the doors. He glanced up enough to notice the blush on her cheeks and then let his eyes wander. Only after he dismissed her as not being a threat did he allow his other habit around women, one that he had honed as playboy Oliver Queen and had never quite lost in his years of solitude, to kick in.

He glanced her over as the doors shut, noticing first that she looked like a typical secretary. He was prepared to dismiss her completely, despite her first rate ass and the way her blonde hair curled around her shoulder in a more than attractive way, but it was the industrial piercing in her ear that had him look at her a little closer. He found himself wanting another look at her face, so he shifted and sniffed a little. She turned a bit and he caught another glimpse of blushing cheeks and bright lips. He bit his own lip a little to keep himself from saying something to get her to turn even more. Maybe even make that blush brighten.

Oliver berated himself. Seconds ago he had been telling himself distractions were the last thing he needed and here he was getting bent over some girl just because she was hitting him right in the naughty librarian fantasy. He didn't have time for this shit. He wouldn't look at her again.

He was just glancing up at the floor numbers when he felt the shift under his feet. His instincts had him bracing himself, which in retrospect was what saved him and her when the car suddenly jolted to the left and plummeted several floors. His arms were around her without thinking and he was bracing them both in the corner before the screech of the emergency brakes could be heard. He had the brief impression of soft curves and terrified whimpers and then they were both sprawled on the floor, tangled together and breathing heavily.

The girl was laying across his chest, her leg over his in a mockery of a lover's embrace and her fist clenched into his coat so tightly he could feel the pinch of her nails through the layers. His hand was splayed protectively across her lower back, the other cradling her head against him.

He untangled his fingers from blonde strands and brushed them away from her face so he could see her. "Are you okay?"

She raised her head to look at him and he had to restrain himself from reaching out and fixing her glasses. Despite the situation they found themselves in, he felt like that was just a little too intimate a gesture.

He repeated his question, this time with an edge of panic since she hadn't answered. He was picturing all sorts of horrible maladies that she could have suffered in the fall and was just preparing to sit up and check her himself when she finally got her wits about her and proceeded to shock him speechless.

"When I was picturing me on top of you, I didn't picture it quite in this way."