A/N – So, here I am with another Olicity one-shot! This ship has taken over my life and I can't help it. This is set after the next episode, so just assume that Barry saves Oliver's life and basically nothing else. I hope you like my fumbling attempts at Olicity!
He knew it was wrong. Even in the moment he was tying up the last details of the deal and putting everything into motion, he knew it was wrong, selfish and entitled. But he didn't stop; he just spared a second to wonder how she would react. There were only two options he realized; either she'd be angry beyond measure and not speak to him for a month, or she'd sigh and relent, she'd hear the words he was too much of a coward to say, she'd understand the feelings he was too afraid to admit, and she'd let it go. Either way, it was a risk he was willing to take.
Because Oliver Queen had had enough.
His patience was brimming since the day Felicity, all glowy and flustered had walked into his office to announce the 'good news'.
"Oliver, guess what?!"
"Hmm?" Confused and caught off guard, Oliver looked up from the long, long financial document he was attempting to read. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, he could feel the headache that always accompanied paperwork work its way through his temple. Putting the file down, he focused his attention on Diggle and Felicity standing in front of him. Felicity almost buzzing with excitement, her face alight with joy and her fingers fidgeting away to glory, while Diggle stood with his hands behind his back and a bemused smile on his face.
"Oliver, guess what?" Felicity prodded again, when he gave her no response.
Sighing and leaning back in his chair, Oliver lamented, "I don't know, Felicity. What?"
"Barry got a job in Applied Sciences!" She let out in an almost squeal, fisting her small hands and slightly raising them up in the air, making a small 'yay' sound.
That got his attention, and bought his headache to the forefront, with a vengeance.
"How?" He inquired, getting up off his seat and trying in vain to keep the annoyance out of his tone.
"I spoke to Dutch at Applied Sciences," Felicity explained happily, turning to look at Diggle and back at Oliver, "And since Barry is so good at the science-y stuff they hired him as a research assistant. Isn't that great?" She added chirpily, truly believing that Oliver would be jumping for joy at the news.
"Yeah, Oliver." Diggle pressed, now a full grin gracing his amused face as he folded his hands over his chest and gave Oliver a knowing look, "Isn't that great. Barry is going to be around a lot more now."
"That's...," Sparing Diggle a typical narrow eyed don't-get-cheeky-with-me look, he searched for the proper adjective to ascertain this news, one that didn't advertise his dislike of it, "That's surprising. But doesn't he have family back in Central City, things to do? His father, friends, a girlfriend, a dog. Something?" He inquired desperately.
"No, he doesn't." Felicity informed him, obviously not catching the thoroughly annoyed look on his face or the way Diggle was shaking his head behind her, "And plus with the whole super strength soldier thingy here, he has more chances of finding out what happened to his mother. And, he doesn't have a girlfriend." she added with emphasis, and a little too happily for his liking. Twirling a little in her bright yellow dress she pushed her specs up her nose as she bit her lower lip in thought, "But I don't know if he has a dog, which might be a small problem. Because he will bring the dog here and I am allergic to certain breeds, maybe he won't bring it back, but dog lovers are fanatic, is he a dog lover though? Or maybe I could get one of those shots and..."
"Felicity, get to the point." Oliver interrupted sternly, shifting on his feet uncomfortably as Felicity flushed and lost her bearings for a moment. This was the first time he had ever stopped her mid-rant, usually he waited with an amused smile as she finished her ramble so she'd get to the point, he almost liked her nervous rants, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to her ramble about Barry Allen's dog and what they should do with it.
Gathering her bearings and playing with the frame of her specs she mumbled, "I just wanted to tell you that which I just told you. That was horrible grammar. I just wanted to inform you of what, which..."
"I got it." Oliver pressed, pursing and keeping the frown off his face as Diggle worked hard to not laugh. Felicity blushed in embarrassment as she waved her hand to motion that she was leaving as she made her way out of his office, leaving him seething in annoyance and Diggle thoroughly amused.
Since that day, the immense levels of patience that he had developed and perfected on the island had been thoroughly tested by that - child. He had no other word to describe him; 'Geek' did no good because it just got Felicity more excited, 'Idiot' only made her narrow her eyes at him and shake her head disapprovingly and 'Irritating' only made her stomp her foot and not speak or even look at him for 2 days. So, he stuck to calling him 'The child', something even Felicity could not rebuke; no matter what proof said otherwise, Barry didn't look like he was a day over 18, and Oliver was going to hold onto that opinion like it was a fact.
It chipped away at his resolve; his strong, noble resolve to not put people he cared for at risk. Which, subsequently required him to not care what or who said people did. Easier said than done. It had been easy with Laurel and Tommy, if he admitted it to himself, he'd always known that Tommy was better for her. But something about one Barry Allen annoyed him so.
Every day that Barry brought over lunch for Felicity; Devil Ham Sandwich and Oranges, because Felicity loved oranges, he hid his scowl behind some file and ignored Diggle's chuckling.
Every evening that Felicity left early to go to some geek show with Barry, he growled under his breath and counted to 10.
Every time Felicity brought Barry as her plus 1 to Queen Events, he took 3 extra shots and glared at Diggle know-it-all headshake.
Every time he heard Felicity's manic laughter because Barry had something oh so funny, he rested his forehead on his table and wished; wished that he was someone else, wished that he could be what he wanted to be, wished that he didn't have to watch what he couldn't have.
Until the day he snapped. Something just went off inside him, like a switch that told him his tolerance levels had been long surpassed. He couldn't take it anymore, and he ignored the fact that it had something to do with him overhearing Felicity gushing to Diggle about how Barry finally asked her out for a date. He did something that made those little bubbles of guilt and shame rise up in his stomach, but he pushed them down and spared no thought to them. Because everything was back to how it was supposed to be, and he was going to revel in the moment until it inevitably went bad again.
Until a week later; when he walked into his office and found a somber looking Felicity staring off into space as she twirled her coffee cup in her hand. He tried to not notice the small mascara trail under her eyes, but failed miserably. Puffing up his chest and making his way to her, he asked, "What's wrong, Felicity?" The way she bowed her head and shrugged in defeat brought that guilt screaming back at him, but he pushed it down again, placing his palms on the table and asking her again, much more softly this time, "Felicity, what's wrong?"
"Barry," she mumbled quietly, placing her cheek on her palm and looking up at him sadly, "Pointcorp Research, this science think tank back in Central City offered him the job he's been waiting for. So he took it," she shrugged again, "And left."
Sighing and placing his hand over hers, Oliver simply said, "I'm sorry Felicity."
"Do you know how rare it is?" She questioned suddenly, when he turned to go into his office.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you know how rare it is?" She repeated, leaning back in her chair and looking up at the ceiling, "That someone I like, actually likes me back. No not even rare, rare implies it happens on scarce occasions. This isn't rare; this is the only time, literally, that someone I like has... liked me back." She said the last few words in one exhale, turning her head to wipe the lone tear that threatened to mar her hastily touched up make up.
"Barry Allen was not rare. He was unique."
He could no longer ignore the guilt, he could no longer stuff it down and pretend it was all for the good. Having nothing to say, but wanting to say so much, he simply closed his eyes and muttered 'I'm sorry Felicity."
The guilt weighed him down the entire day, burning in his throat and searing at his heart until he decided to make it up to her. To stop being a coward, to stop being afraid.
The next day Felicity rushed through the elevator doors, cursing the alarm clock that decided to fail the very morning of a big board meeting, she moved eagerly to get to her desk and prayed she had enough time to head down to the cafe and get some coffee in her, when she suddenly halted in place, her eyes immediately falling on the large coffee cup sitting right next to the phone. Perturbed for a few seconds, she hastily made her way to the desk, reading the writing on the side of the cup 'Just as you like it.' written in Oliver's unmistakable chicken scrawl. Blinking stupidly for a full minute, she brought the cup up to her lips, taking a slow, experimental sip, only to moan out in pleasure a second later. It really was just as she liked it; complete with two extra caramel shots (something she never openly admitted to) and cinnamon sprinkled on top. Looking up, she saw Oliver watching her with a small smile across his table as he raised his own cup in the air, like a salute of sorts.
And that day, Felicity Smoak realized that Oliver knew exactly how she liked her coffee.
And from that day on, every single day he'd bring her lunch; a devil ham sandwich and grapes, because if there was something Felicity liked more than oranges, it was grapes. And they talked, not about taking down bad guys or about keeping up his CEO extraordinaire cover, but just talked, about anything and everything.
And the week after that he asked her to accompany him to another one of Queen Consolidates fund raiser, only to keep the social climbing trollops off his back, something she seemed offended by at first, but eventually shook her head and accepted his invitation, if only to keep the social climbing trollops off his back.
The week after that he watched one of her favorite geek series 'Doctor Who', attempting very sincerely to understand and like it, but failing nonetheless.
The week after that he took her to a new Moroccan restaurant that she'd wanted to try out for far too long; no matter the fact that he knew that the food would be too spicy for her.
Week by week her peculiarly cold attitude towards him seemed to slip away, only to be replaced with his old Felicity, his girl Friday.
Six months went by, and every Friday night they had a date, without it ever being called a date, and for all intents and purposes, it wasn't anything like a date. He didn't want labels; they complicated simple things and made a mess of everything. There was no label to them – they were nothing and they were everything. Every single Friday they did something; watch a movie, try out a new restaurant, visit a museum, an art gallery – that is when their vigilante duties didn't call on them. It started because of his guilt, but it continued because it made him happy, and he could see that it made her happy. And he realized, that he liked making her happy.
He liked watching her watch her favorite movies, he liked the way she tried to hide her tears when her favorite characters died. He liked watching her dress up for social events; he liked watching the way she blushed when she rambled about the benefits of barley over wheat to the Mayor. He liked watching her try out new cuisines but ultimately giving up and asked him to take her back to their burger place. The guilt ebbed away, but it never went away, it was always lurking in the recesses of his mind, reminding him of what he did.
He knew it was wrong, but he also knew he would do it again.
"Here are your tickets," Diggle's voice interrupted his thoughts as he signed the last of the 19 papers he had to certify before finally, finally being done for the week.
"Ah good," Oliver exclaimed, extending his hand to take the two small tickets from Diggle as he pulled his coat over his shoulders, "Sure you want to pass up on this?" he added jokingly.
"90 minutes of a woman shrieking something in a language I don't understand? Positive." Diggle responded, giving him a little wink to emphasize the point, "The jet is waiting at the tarmac."
"Thank you, Diggle. Pray there isn't a need for the Vigilante tonight."
"If there is, I'll take care of it," He assured him lightly, "I never knew Felicity liked the opera."
"She's never been before. But she's always wanted to."
Diggle said nothing, only nodded and made a humming sound under his breath as he made to leave, suddenly stopping at the door and turning around to look at Oliver fighting a losing battle with his bowtie.
"Do you really think she'll never find out?" Diggle asked with genuine curiosity.
"What?" Oliver muttered, thoroughly distracted as he checked his watch.
"Barry, Barry Allen." Diggle inquired, leaning against the door frame and controlling a smile when Oliver sighed loudly and dropped his hands to his side, waving the white flag against his stubborn bowtie.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied in typical Oliver-like fashion.
"Come on Oliver. It took me 3 months to figure it out; I'm surprised she hasn't yet." When Oliver did nothing but look at him questioningly, he rolled his eyes and continued, "Queen Consolidated made a peculiar purchase six months ago. A small, yet respectable science research think tank – Pointcorp."
From the way his shoulders slugged and his eyebrows rose into his forehead, Diggle knew that Oliver wasn't even going to try and deny it. "Yes, I, or my company bought Pointcorp. But in my defense, Barry really is doing wonders as a researcher."
Diggle couldn't control his laughter at that, shaking his head and taking a few steps into the room, "Sure, that's why you had them hire Barry, for his scientific abilities. Not because he was encroaching on your territory."
"I-I, what do you want me to say Dig?" Oliver asked pointedly, not finding any other faster way out of this conversation.
"Nothing," he responded honestly, "Just wondering if you're ever going to tell her."
"I am," Oliver said instantly and finitely, "When the time is right. And when she won't get too mad," he muttered under his breath.
"Mmhmm," Diggle quipped, turning to walk out of the room, a large amused grin plastered on his face "Have fun at the opera."
"So, is the opera everything you thought it would be?" Oliver probed, leaning against the wall next to Felicity's apartment door as she fumbled with her purse to find her keys, waiting to make sure she got home safely, like he did almost every Friday evening.
"It was... interesting," she answered, pursing her lips and flushing a deep pink color that oddly matched her bright magenta dress, returning the soft, warm smile Oliver graced her with. The champagne she'd drank on the flight to New York combined with the heat of his body so close to hers was making any and all motor functions that much harder to accomplish. Gulping, and praying that he didn't notice her flushed face she finally rescued her keys from the depths of her bag and sighed in relief. Clasping the purse under her arm, she turned to appraise an equally tipsy Oliver as he watched her with that typical head tilt of his, the one he had every time something took him by surprise. "It was slightly boring," she lamented, laughing along with Oliver when he quietly chuckled at her admitting what he had known long before they even boarded the plane.
"I'm guessing you knew it would be boring," she pointed out with her best attempt at a stern voice, but it still came out all Felicity like; warm, sincere and playful.
"Downside of being a rich kid, you get exposed to a lot of boring things, like opera."
"Well you might have warned me," she complained, slipping her house key into the hole and opening the door, "But then again I told you I wanted to be surprised, but still a 'you might want to take your i-pod' wouldn't have hurt. I actually didn't expect to be bored, I thought it would be... magical." She paused to think for a second, as if almost forgetting that he was standing right next to her, she rested her forehead against the door and mumbled to herself, "I wonder now how many of the things in my awesome things to do list are going to turn out to be boring."
"There's a list?" he asked suddenly, his voiced colored with mirth as he pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer to her.
"What?" she fumbled for a second, catching her bearing as she cleared her throat and nodded her head, her eyes half closed and her frizzed out hair bouncing around her face, and he couldn't help but think how unknowingly beautiful she was, "I have a list of things I want to do. Over the years, whenever I heard or saw something that I thought might be interesting, I put it in the list."
"What's in the list?"
"I'm not telling you," she replied coyly, looking up at him from under her lashes.
"How am I supposed to make the list come true if I don't even know what's on it?" He quipped back with equal coyness.
Felicity laughed the same uninhibited, uncaring laugh that he loved so very much, as she threw her head back and laughed until she caught the look of absolute seriousness on Oliver's face.
"Wha-? You're serious?" She asked, all traces of tipsiness vanishing in an instant.
"Yes," Oliver said simply.
"Why?" she asked before she could stop herself, unable to believe his words.
"Why not?" Was his quick and easy reply.
"Are you ever going to answer a question with an answer and not another question?"
"What do you think?"
A small, dark laugh left her as she bowed her head and fidgeted with her fingers, shaking her head and turning to look at him, to fully look at him, blue twinkling eyes and quirked eyebrows and all, "These are my dreams, Oliver."
Leaning down so that her face merely an inch away from his, he raised her chin with his forefinger to get her to look at him, so that she could see what he wanted to say, understand what he wanted to do but never knew how to, because she always knew, she always knew what, who he was beneath his armor, "I know, Felicity. So how about we make a deal?"
"I'm listening." She said after a moment of consideration, but never taking her eyes off of him.
"How many things are on this list of yours?"
"33. But I reserve the right to delete or add as I see fit." She added hastily.
"And what number was The Opera?"
"12."
"Then every week, I pick a number at random between 1 to 33, you tell me what it is and we..., make it happen." Oliver said, his voice soft and promising, so promising that it tugged at her heart, bringing to the front feelings she'd worked overtime to suppress. "Deal?"
"Deal." She nodded and laughed lightly when he extended his hand for a formal handshake, like they had just finished a business agreement.
"Goodnight Felicity, see you tomorrow." Oliver said politely, nodding at her one last time and turning away, knowing that it was time to take his leave.
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
His feet stopped suddenly, a sudden surge of dread settling into his bones, as he slowly, and with caution turned around. Thankfully, she didn't look angry, "What do you mean?"
"Oliver," Felicity sighed, her voice sounding tired and disappointed, "Barry. You bought Pointcorp. You specifically told them to hire Barry."
"Yes, I did." He confessed, pursing his lips and folding his hands behind his back.
There was no anger in her eyes, only disappointment, and if he was honest, that burned him hotter than anger. Anger would be good; yelling would be even more welcome, because that would mean she would eventually calm down and forgive him.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" She asked steely.
"Yes, I was. When the time was right."
Nodding her head and pushing the door of her apartment open, she gave him one last look of mingled warmth and hostility that confused him greatly, "Goodnight Oliver, see you tomorrow."
"Don't you want to know why I did that?" he burst out before he could stop himself, taking two rapid steps towards her and wrapping a hand around her elbow to pull her towards him, wanting, needing to word his feelings for the first time. But from the way she sighed and gently removed his hand he could tell that he might be ready now, he might have shed his fears, but she wasn't ready. The hurt and anger was still raw for her, and he remembered how cold she had been to him after Barry had left, and wondered how long she had know what he had done.
"Yes, I do want to know," She said defiantly, "But not now."
"Why?"
"Why not?" She threw his words right back at him, with a little mischievous raise of her brows that had him chuckling under his breath. "How about we make a deal?" She offered instead.
"I'm listening."
"I'll add number 34 on my list as 'Ask Oliver why he drove the smart, funny and weirdly sexy Barry Allen back to Central City'." She stated, crossing her arms over her chest and ignoring Oliver's indignant snort when she said 'weirdly sexy', "And the week you pick number 34, I will ask you why you did what you did. Do we have a deal?"
Smiling and extending his hand out once again, Oliver nodded in a mock serious manner and said, "Deal."
"Good," Felicity said, sidestepping his hand and raising herself up to her tip toes to reach his face, as she lightly kissed him on the cheek, taking in his reprieved sigh as she whispered, "Chose number 34 wisely, Mr. Queen."
Deciding then and there to make all her dreams come true, and not just tell her why he did what he did, but show her why, he softly whispered back, "I will."
A/N - I have quite a few ideas to write a multi chapter story with the idea of them checking off everything in Felicity's list, but I'm not sure if I'll write it! What do you guys think? Thank you for reading and do let me know what you thought!
- Tanya
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