Ok, so I decided I write better when I do it like the first one, with two different points of view for the same scene. Hope you like that, because that's how a bunch are gonna be from now on.

Lemme know what you think! Also tell me if I accidentally use "he" or "she" wrong, I do these scenes from memory (unless I forget specific wording) and sometimes I forget to switch while I'm writing.

Here's 2x02, "I need my girl Wednesday."

I don't own Arrow!

"I quit."

"No, you don't."

No, he didn't. Honestly, if he were truly quitting, it would have to be because the world was ending. But Felicity Smoak was being infuriating, because she was trying to give him a job...

As a glorified secretary.

"Yes, I do." It was not something he knew how to do. Sure, he could finagle his way into some of the most top secret agencies. Absolutely he could get past the most troubling firewalls. But planning meetings and getting coffee? No. Way. Jose.

"And not my old job in the I.T. department, but my new job as your executive assistant. Which you think I'm going to take. Your thinking could not be more wrong on this matter!"

He could feel his glasses scooting down his nose. His hands were in the air from accentuating his words.

Felicity's grey suit hugged her curves, and Oliver took a split second to look down and appreciate it as she sighed.

"I need my girl Wednesday."

Did she just call him a girl? And deliver a reference incorrectly? It was like a hit to their nonexistent relationship as well as a blow to her time on the island. Only Felicity could find a way to insult them both in five words or less.

"It's Friday, and the answer is no."

Just then, a phone rang. Felicity looked at the offending technology, giving Oliver a second to adjust his glasses. So what if he missed a phone call? He was defending his rights...kind of. Felicity was too good at getting to him.

Felicity was clearly angry as she turned back to him.

"These computers have been upgraded." Felicity pointed towards what would be Oliver's desk.

Oh, have they? What, did Felicity think talking the computers up would make him suddenly more willing to use them?

"Far more processing power than your typical secretary." Ok, they probably were good computers. But he could do just as much, if not more at the foundry. Heck, maybe even at home. At Smoak Industries, there were cameras and possible onlookers. Yes, the office was tucked away in a corner. That didn't mean accidents couldn't happen. There was a risk with discussing their...activities...here.

Felicity walked away into her office after that, and Oliver breathed in deeply.

"Did you know I went to MIT?" He began furiously rushing toward Felicity, finger pointed accusingly in Felicity's direction, continuing. "Guess what I majored in. Hint: not the secretarial arts!"

"Oliver!" Oh, now she was mad. Well, why? Oliver was the one being forced into a position usually filled by brainless people with average computer skills. Perhaps even below average.

He was not brainless. His computer skills were above average. Waaaaaay above.

"We all need to have secret identities now." Oliver really only just became aware of how close they were, Felicity's breath on his face. Their eyes were focused on each other's, dark with frustration.

"If I'm going to be Felicity Smoak, CEO, then I very well can't travel down eighteen floors every time you and I need to discuss how we spend our nights."

He didn't want her to do that, of course. He didn't want to give that up. He just didn't want to be a secretary.

"And I love spending the night with you."

His mouth betrayed him. He looked at it for a millisecond.

How dare you, mouth.

"3..2..1.."

Felicity began walking away from him.

"I worked very hard to get where I am."

Oliver followed on her heels.

"And it wasn't so I could fetch you coffee."

No way in hell he was getting her coffee. It was essentially the lowest form of service-being a waiter.

Diggle's voice brought Oliver back to reality. If he was being totally honest, he had forgotten about him.

"Well, it could be worse. My secret identity is her black driver."

Oliver would have laughed under any other circumstances.

"I quit."

"No you don't."

No, he didn't. There was no way Oliver would give this up.

There was no way Felicity would let Oliver give this up. Ok, the job wasn't exactly a great fit for him. Oliver was far too intelligent to run errands, and Felicity knew that all too well. But she had to protect him. It was her job.

"Yes, I do." Ok, he was mad. She understood why. Hell, she was ready to agree and send him back down to the I.T. department. But he was needed elsewhere, despite his pride.

"And not my old job in the I.T. department, but my new job as your executive assistant. Which you think I'm going to take. Your thinking could not be more wrong on this matter!"

She gave Oliver a look. She was already on the same page without Oliver spelling it out for her. She noticed his glasses had ridden slightly down his nose. She felt the brush of his fingers as he punctuated his words with rapid hand movements.

His gaze dropped down for a second as she sighed. What was that old movie…?

"I need my girl Wednesday."

Ok, judging by Oliver's face she had either gotten the reference incorrect, or insulted him.

She was betting on both.

"It's Friday-"

Oh, that's right…

"-and the answer is no."

She would have won that bet.

Why couldn't he see this was for his own good? She just wanted to keep him close, not just to protect him but to make it easier to talk to him. Maybe if she promised a salmon ladder in her office he'd repent.

A phone rang, and Felicity's head whipped towards the noise. See!? If Oliver would just take the job, that phone would have been answered. What if it was important!?

Jesus, Oliver was getting under her skin. That made her angry.

"These computers have been upgraded."

Good work, Felicity. If she talked the technology up, he'd probably cave. Assuming these computers were actually anywhere near up to snuff.

"Far more processing power than your typical secretary."

Oliver didn't seem very impressed. So she just huffed and walked away.

He followed, of course.

"Did you know I went to MIT?"

Ok, yes, his intelligence was much too great for this job. Felicity was painfully aware of just how much Oliver was too good for this, too good for her.

"Guess what I majored in. Hint: not the secretarial arts!"

Too good? Yes.

Crazy annoying? Good god, yes.

"Oliver!" she screamed. She was too fed up with his insistent need to defy her judgment on this matter.

"We all need to have secret identities now." Felicity chose that moment to notice how close they were, breaths mingling. She could see her outline in the reflection of his glasses, and quickly composed herself before going on.

"If I'm going to be Felicity Smoak, CEO, I very well can't travel down eighteen floors every time you and I need to discuss how we spend our nights."

As soon as the words were out, she waited patiently for Oliver's response. She knew her wording would confuse him, he'd say something stupid, and then she'd walk away as if it annoyed her, even when it was one of the cuter aspects of Oliver Queen.

Sure enough, he quickly shot back, "And I love spending the night with you."

There it was. She shot a glance at Diggle before walking further towards his desk, as Oliver took a breath. "3..2..1.."

His steps were following hers in seconds, as he found a better response. "I have worked very hard to get where I am, and it wasn't so I could fetch you coffee."

For the first time since Felicity had thought about Oliver as her secretary, she allowed the image of him bringing her coffee into her head. It felt wrong, but at the same time there was a sort of fantasy aspect to the image. She filed the image away for later as Diggle spoke up for the first time. Felicity had almost forgotten about him.

"It could be worse. My secret identity is her black driver."

Felicity would have smiled under any other circumstances.