(A/N: Bonus prompt from thatmasquedgirl. It was originally going to be an argument, but it quickly took a fluffy turn. You can take this as AU or as happening sometime before Oliver totally checked out as CEO. Edit Note: I edited this to change one word that was incorrect, and like a total idiot, I deleted the chapter and have to re-post. So, sorry for those of you who've already read this.)

I Don't Know What You Want From Me

It wasn't fair. Felicity was never comfortable in the office. Floor-to-ceiling windows all around meant sunlight poured in constantly. If she wasn't roasting in the sun, she was shivering in the a/c. Isabel had decried Felicity's cardigans as not professional enough for the assistant to the CEO, but Felicity kept a plain black one in the bottom desk drawer anyway. She only ever pulled it out if she really needed it and if she knew Isabel wasn't in the building.

The daily temperature battle was just one item on a long list of irritations, but today it chafed more than usual. The air conditioning wasn't on since it was early spring, and Felicity's desk was bathed in the afternoon sun. She peeked through the glass partition into Oliver's office. He looked perfectly comfortable. He hadn't even loosened his tie. It really wasn't fair.

He glanced up just then and caught her eye. She'd pretty much stopped blushing every time he made eye contact with her, but the intensity of his gaze still caught her off-guard sometimes.

What? he mouthed.

She shook her head.

What? he mouthed again. He wore a concerned frown.

Felicity fanned herself with her hand.

Oliver arched an eyebrow.

Oh God, he probably thought she meant looking at him was making her hot, not that she was boiling in the sun. She pointed at him and shook her head, then picked up a file and fanned herself with it, pointing out the window.

Oliver shook his head. He frowned at the phone on his desk, jabbing at random buttons. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell.

Her own mobile buzzed. She looked down at the screen.

Intercom still broken, his message read. I don't know what you want from me.

Nothing! she texted back. You asked "what?" and I was just trying to tell you I'm hot.

Felicity cringed. There was absolutely no way to say that without the double meaning, not when Oliver was involved in the conversation. She refused to look up, but he wasn't answering, so she risked a glance.

Damn. She'd expected another arched eyebrow, or at most a smirk. Instead he was full-on smiling, teeth visible and everything. She was glad she was sitting down because that rare sight tended to make her legs go all jibbly.

You asked, she texted him. I'm roasting.

I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?

She shrugged.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation. Oliver's work phone rang, and he turned to answer it. All of his calls were supposed to go through her, which meant it was probably Isabel's assistant. He was a mean little twerp when he wasn't fawning over his boss, and he shared her contempt of Felicity.

Movement in Oliver's office drew her attention, and she watched, fascinated, as he held the receiver to his ear with one hand and texted on his cell phone with the other. Was he ambidextrous? Could he shoot arrows with his other hand?

A while later, Dig showed up with his hands full. Felicity sat up straight and felt a trickle of sweat run down her back.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked. "I thought we agreed you'd start hanging out in the break room more because I never get any work done when you hang out in here."

He smiled as he set a huge Styrofoam cup with a straw on her desk. "You don't get any work done when I'm here because you don't stop talking," he said. "I was in the break room, but I heard you could use some cool refreshment."

Felicity sipped on the straw. A burst of flavor and carbonation exploded on her tongue. She swallowed and then sighed happily. "A cherry limeade? How'd you know?"

"I didn't," said Dig. "Give Oliver a little credit."

"That's, um, observant." She didn't know what else to say to that. And she definitely wasn't going to glance over at Oliver again. So she looked up at Dig instead. He was smirking.

Felicity frowned at him, but then she saw the bag he was holding. "Whatcha got there?" she asked.

"Reinforcements." He set the bag on her desk and pulled out a package of Twizzlers, followed by a six-pack of Dr. Pepper. The cans were still cold.

Felicity let out a yodel of delight.

Dig grinned. "My work here is done," he said. "Be sure to thank Oliver, though. It was all him. I just did the legwork."

She leapt up from her chair and hugged him. "Thank you anyway. All this will help the rest of my day go faster."

After Diggle left, Felicity finally let her gaze turn to the glass partition. Oliver was smiling at her. She smiled back and raised her cherry limeade toward him in a toast. She hummed happily through the rest of her afternoon, between sips of cold drinks.