A/N.
So, if there was an Alternate Universe tag for fanfiction, I would probably put this in there. It's not that I am changing the story that much, but there will be changes and I feel like I should warn you guys in advance.
For one, in my story, Felicity Smoak is African-American. No, this does not mean that I hate her for who she is now. In fact, I adore this babbly angelface/bitch-with-wifi. She's glorious and I love her to death and she contributes greatly to the story. However, this story has been stuck in my head for about two weeks and I just can't help myself. So, I'm just going to put this out there now – if you don't like me changing the ethnicity/nationality of a character or particular situations within the story, hit the back button now. Do not flood the comments area with foolishness, ignorance, and cutthroat commentary that really are unnecessary. Not only does it irritate me and will possibly irritate other readers, but it just makes you seem more childish than you need to be. After all, it is MY fanfic and MY views.
I guess I should just start this by giving you the reason why I changed her into a person of color. Not only is there a lack in regards to the representation of characters of color, even if you do have those characters the writers fail to positively portray them or provide the audience with enough character development/screen time. I hate that. And I possibly could just go into detail about Lyla and Diggle's individual stories (which I might still do anyway) but this also stems from just a need to see if this could work.
So, if you are still with me, thanks and please enjoy. Give me criticism and review me to your best ability. Do you like the story? If not, what makes it incapable of being compelling or interesting enough for you? Be honest, but please remember to be respectful.
Oh yeah! After this chapter, I promise to not post many author notes unless absolutely needed. They mess me up with my word count and also, they are tiresome – not just for me, but readers as well.
Summary: A true love story does not always begin with their eyes meeting and sparks flying instantly. It is in the moments afterwards – the legendary looks, the lingering touches, embraces that catch you by surprise. Most of all, it is in the way you learn that in order to be with that special person, you need to be able to be better. And who can tell you that better than Oliver Queen? (AU-ish with a somewhat OC Felicity Smoak)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
If Oliver Queen were ever to admit to a time when he truly felt normal and not like some endangered species in the presence of others after his return from Lian Yu, it would have to be the moment he met her. Ever since his return, the public required him to be not just Oliver Queen, son of the great Moira Queen and the departed but equally great Robert Queen, but as Ollie. He was to be composed and yet, still reckless. Maybe even more reckless than before. He was supposed to be the easy-going and over-protective brother and the good-for-nothing-but-loveable best friend. He was supposed to be Moira's son, her precious baby boy. And it was fine for a moment; he could pretend. However, shrieks of misery and icy pricks of rain pelting down on him from the tumultuous skies wrecked his once dreamless nights, lending to the now tension-wracked six-foot-two frame.
"Felicity Smoak?"
She was not looking at the files that her boss wanted her to look over or the countless emails sent by fellow employees who still didn't know the simplicity of actually saving work instead of letting them 'somehow' escape to the dark recesses of the internet. Actually, to be completely honest, she was in the middle of a rather juicy fanfic (yes, she reads fanfic and likes it, you got a problem?) when a very much unfamiliar voice crept to her ears. Smooth yet somehow still rough with a gravelly undertone that knocked her from her reverie, Felicity looked up, eyes wide and teeth sunk deeply into the tip of her covered pen, plump lips the same shade as the object in her hands. Quickly and as nimbly (it wasn't so nimble, she can admit) as she could, she snatched the pen out of her mouth and turned fully in her chair, staring into steely blue eyes.
"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen."
This shouldn't be too hard, right? A rather unremarkable girl in the IT department who could help him access the files on a wrecked computer? Known as pretty much the smartest one in her department? It shouldn't be too hard, he mused, to coerce her into doing what he wanted. Besides, it was a quick in-and-out operation, very simple. This Felicity stared at him quietly for a minute, mouth somewhat ajar and her hands frozen on her desk. Some part of him found her deer-caught-in-headlights look entertaining, but he squashed that down in favor of a charming and harmless smile/grimace.
"Of course," she exclaimed, a lot more enthusiastically than she intended. Shit! Shit! Shit! Was her internal dialogue. Tone it down. "I know who you are. You're…you're Mr. Queen."
"Noooo! Mr. Queen was my father."
"Right, but he's dead," came her off-handed and entirely not-meant-to-be-rude-but-it-probably-was response, and Felicity cringed. Shaking off the ever-present word vomits, she continued, "I-I-I mean, he drowned." Not helping. "But you didn't…which means…you can come down to the IT department and…listen to me babble…which will end in 3…2…1…" Fuck! Fuck! She knew she screwed up at this point and turned away, teeth trying to break the plush flesh of her lower lip as she squeezed her pen like it was some kind of life line. If I lose my job for this…
She didn't see the surprised and amused expression on his face.
Oliver was stunned and even more-so, grateful than Felicity took that time to turn her head. Since returning home, nothing had truly struck him up until this point. Immediately upon her verbal outburst, he thought he should have felt something akin to disgust or offense. She pretty much reminded him – and anyone else who could have been near her tiny cubicle – about the one thing everyone in his life was tip-toeing around. But she was didn't do that and it caught him off guard. She talked like a normal person…at least normal in the sense that was normal for her. It pleased him. It left him shocked. It left him…
…breathless.
Felicity would never see how wide his smile actually was when she turned around.
"I'm having some trouble with my computer and they told me that you were the person to come and see," he said and delicately placed the damaged device on her small desk. Why was everything so small down here? With the amount of items surrounding her, it surprised him that the space was as suffocating and tiny as it was. How did she even function?
Her office (it was a cubicle and she really shouldn't think of it as an office because offices were bigger and obviously, this was not an office and damn it, she was babbling even in her head!) was the last thing on Felicity's mind. Her eyes took in the tattered laptop, eyebrows rising and skepticism on her face as Oliver continued to speak. "I was at my favorite coffee shop surfing the web and I spilled a latte on it."
"Really?" Definitely more of a statement than a question, but Oliver didn't budge nor was he going to acknowledge that the look she was sporting now definitely had him folding his arms over his chest defensively.
"Yeah."
"Cuz these," she gestured to the very much obvious indentations on the cover of the computing device, "look like bullet holes."
"My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."
If Felicity's skeptical look a few seconds prior had him feeling like a shitty liar, the look that morphed on her face afterwards had his palms sweating for a moment. Oliver even had to clear his throat. Felicity reclined in her seat at that point, head drawn back as she appeared to almost size him up for a second, eyes scrutinizing and one of her eyebrows quirked just-so. It was unnerving that this girl, a girl who looked very much harmless when he first appeared, could look almost…intimidating. Dark hair, gathered in a sleek ponytail with large curls near the ends, bounced off her shoulder when she had first turned to him and eyes almost the same color had once been wide and bright. Now, they darkened with her mood and her full mouth was set in a frown of some sort.
But again, this shouldn't be hard. He just had to be firm and remind her that he was, in fact, Mr. Queen, even if he hated being addressed as such. It made him feel old. Which, given the way he was handling his young life, should have sounded a lot more appealing, but Oliver shook his head a little and smiled, trying to be the suave Oliver Queen from five years ago. He had not changed that much and surely, if the articles Tommy teased him about via text messaging about how attractive Oliver Queen still was said anything, surely Felicity could fall prey to it as well.
"If there is anything that you could salvage from that, I would really appreciate it," he said, hoping that his smile was genuine enough to appease her. And it almost didn't.
Felicity was still almost insulted that this man thought for two seconds that she would believe his bullshit excuse about this laptop. Bad neighborhood, really? Did he really expect her to believe that his little rich boy self would be caught dead in a bad neighborhood? Some of her friends (co-workers and associates, really, because most of her friends lived elsewhere but that is beside the point) might think that Felicity could be a tad naïve at times, but if there was one thing she was not it was unintelligent. And because she was far more intelligent than Oliver Queen seemed to give her credit for, she almost referred him to someone else.
Almost.
"Sure," her voice dripping with more sass and exasperation than she intended, but at that point, she could hardly care. Oliver grimaced. "I'll see what I can do."
Five minutes later and Oliver was in a chair beside her – a small one that left him at least one level shorter than her or at least, on her level (and he suspected that she did it purposefully) – and Felicity's hands were in a flurry over the keyboard, eyes focused on the screen. Felicity hummed inquisitively and her mouth twisted to the left, lips pursing somewhat.
"It looks like blueprints," she told him finally and glanced at the brooding countenance of the man beside her.
"Do you know what of?"
"The Exchange Building."
"Never heard of it." If he was actually paying attention, Oliver would have seen the flash of indignation on Felicity's face. Nope, not even gonna ask that question…
"It's where the Unidac Industries' auction is scheduled to take place," she informed him and reclined in her seat once more, eyes narrowed slightly as she awaited his response.
As Oliver processed that information, Felicity picked up her neglected pen, nibbling on the tip; it was a habit she picked up back in high school and one she could never kick even if she wanted to. But that wasn't important. What was important was the obviously lost expression on Mr. Queen's face. The corners of her mouth rose knowingly and an eyebrow rose.
"And you still expect me to believe that this is your laptop?" Oliver swallowed, but nodded.
"Yes."
"Okay, look," Felicity began, turning her swivel chair so that she was completely facing Oliver. Boss's son-in-law or whatever that relationship was, or not, she was not risking her job for this. As much as Felicity hated asking basic IT questions on a regular and doing maintenance work, she was working with one of the best companies on the East Coast. There was no way in hell that she was going to lose her job because some rich boy wanted to sneak into company files. "I'm not trying to get in the middle of some Shakespearean family drama thing…"
Felicity felt appalled at the utterly confused expression his face.
"What?"
"Mr. Steele marrying your mom," Felicity specified. Oliver still wasn't with her and she sighed. "Claudius and Gertrude..." Still no budge. "Hamlet?"
"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools that I went to," he admitted. "I dropped out."
"Wow, aren't you privileged?"
If ever Oliver felt like an idiot, it was then – when the blankness on Felicity Smoak's face, a relative stranger, spoke more words than her mouth could at that moment. The sarcastic quip a moment earlier left little to his imagination and he suspected she probably had a lot more so say, and yet didn't. Felicity bit the inside of her cheek, actually thought better of herself (because she could feel the ranting bubbling up within her), and then returned their attention back to the computer screen.
"Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries," she explained. Oliver nodded slowly. "And you brought me a company laptop associated with one of the guys that he is competing against."
"Floyd Lawton."
"No," Felicity corrected. "Warren Patel." Oliver followed her gaze, his jaw clenched. Things just became a lot more complicated. "Who's Floyd Lawton?"
"He is an employee of Mr. Patel…evidently," Oliver said distractedly, all the while thinking about the possibilities. It was a location in which any shot could be taken at all of Deadshot's targets – any shot. And how could he have not seen this before? And how could he even –
"So, what are you gonna do?" Felicity's inquiry brought him from his thoughts and distractedly, Oliver met her questioning gaze. Her eyes were brown, not as dark as he originally thought. A nice medium brown shade that reminded him of melted milk chocolate with a depth that you would not have noticed behind her glasses, not at the distance they had been at before. But he didn't have time to muse over something as trivial as some girl's eyes.
The Vigilante had to make plans.
"I've gotta go." Felicity blinked in surprise.
"Just…like…that?" Oliver moved quickly and was already exiting her cubicle.
"Yes."
"W-wait…your laptop…" Oliver was already gone by the time the words left her lips and Felicity frowned, tossing her pen down on the table. "You could at least say thank you," she grumbled and closed the device before shaking her head. She didn't have time to worry about him. Her phone had just begun to ring anyway.