Hello people!
Because I'm such a nice girl, I decided to post the next chapter a little bit earlier. Maybe a small part because I don't have the time to post it this weekend. This does not mean however, that next one will be early too…
Still not much action here. Just Oliver and Felicity seizing each other up… but I'm hinting at action to come.
Also, next chapter our other favorite billionaire playboy will make an appearance, and Dig is mean to Oliver…
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
This is currently un-beta'd, so please, if you find any mistakes, tell me.
Chapter Two: Uptown Girl
It takes exactly 30 seconds in the elevator and 248 steps to get from Felicity's office on the 88th floor, to Oliver Queen's, 3 floors down. Felicity knows this, not because she's got some kind of obsession with distances, but because in the two weeks since Smoak Technologies moved into Q-Tower, she's had to walk the path over a dozen times.
While that in itself wasn't really weird, considering he was her QC liaison for the joint venture, her visits weren't exactly work-related. Or at all pleasant.
And every time Felicity had to walk the distance, again, she got a little more ticked off about it.
She tried to keep her annoyance about the whole thing down, but she couldn't hide it from Suzannah, Oliver's assistant. Felicity had been by so much already, she was on a first name basis with the 48-year-old mother of 3.
"Felicity, good to see you again," Suzannah starts, before noticing the Styrofoam cup in Felicity's hand, and the absolute murderous look on her face. "Oh no… Not again."
Felicity nods vehemently. "Yes, again. How many does that make this week?"
"I don't understand why he keeps sending those up, he knows you always return them, untouched."
Felicity pinches her nose with her left thumb and index-finger. "You know, I'm starting to think he does it because I keep returning them. It's like a game to him, and I'm the one in the catch 22. If I don't return it, he'll think I've I do return them, he knows he's getting under my skin. No matter what move I make, I loose and he wins."
Suzannah shakes her head and takes the cup from Felicity. "At least he's listening to you. That first time, you told him you didn't like coffee and the next time he got you tea. And when you said you hated tea, you got smoothies. I haven't seen Mr. Queen try so hard at something since… well, honestly, I haven't seen him try so hard at anything, period."
"I just wish he would stop this childish act. He's got this idea stuck in his head that we're in some sort of competition. I swear, when he sees me walk up the steps to the building, he picks up his pace, just to get to the door before me. It's tiring to say the least, especially since I really don't want to play. I just thought I could return the coffee, he'd get the hint and leave me alone. But no, leave it to Oliver Queen to turn everything into a damned contest."
Oliver's assistant shakes her head in sympathy. "You know, when I started working here, he was about 10 years old, and I remember him and the Merlyn boy running around the halls and turning everything into a race. How many doors could they knock on in one minute, how much soda could they drink without going to the bathroom, those kinds of things. It got so bad that Mr. Queen made them organize the supply closet, but of course they turned that into a competition as well. I guess he never grew out of it."
She shrugs her shoulders and lifts the lid off the cup and to smell the contents. "Oh, I see he started on the seasonal drinks. These pumpkin spiced lattes from downstairs are absolutely to die for." Felicity knows Suzannah's trying to calm her down by changing the subject, but she doesn't mind. She needs to get back to work anyway, and anger tends to make her more judgmental, which is not a good thing while she's going through personnel-files.
She sighs and says, "You're right," to more than just the coffee-comment, "it does smell delicious. I'll have to try one later, then. Can you let him know I returned it?"
Suzannah shakes her head in agreement, and waves goodbye while Felicity turns around and heads towards the elevators again.
She's halfway back to her office, tapping her foot on the elevator floor, when she changes her mind and presses the button for the lobby. The smell of that latte gave her a craving for it, and damn it, she deserves a little break.
She'd been sifting through all the QC employee records for almost two weeks to find possible matches for the employee-profiles she's looking for. Since QC is footing the bill for Smoak Technology's payroll, they asked her to look internally first, before publishing job-openings on employment websites. After all, the cost will be less if they just shifted staff around internally than if they were to employ all new personnel.
While the work is important for the future of her company and the joint venture, it's also draining and headache-inducing. And a little caffeinated, afternoon pick-me-up is just what the doctor ordered.
The ride down to the lobby is fast and before she knows it, her heels are clicking on the marble on her way to the coffee-shop. Mercifully, the line is short, and she doesn't even have the chance to examine the menu properly, when it's already her turn.
"What can I get you, miss?"
"Uhm… I'll, uh…" she squints at the menu-boards behind the counter, but those letters are ridiculously small, "I'll have the pumpkin spice latte, I guess." Because she doesn't really know what kinds of drinks they make here, she figures going with the one she smelled earlier is the way to go.
The barista turns around to fix her drink.
"Felicity." The voice behind her is awfully familiar, and not exactly welcome at the moment, but she plasters on a fake smile before she turns around.
"Oliver." She simply says, because she's not in the mood for pleasantries with him at the moment. He's been trying to get under her skin for the past two weeks, and she's about ready to burst. Which would not be ideal in the lobby of his company.
"I thought you didn't like coffee." The tone in which he says it is mocking, and there's a devious glint in his baby-blues.
The barista calls her name and she accepts her hot, delicious beverage before answering him. "Well, what I actually meant was, I don't like your coffee."
She takes a sip and sighs happily, the smell of nutmeg and cloves wafting upwards. It makes her reminiscent of winters with her mother in Vegas, when they pretended to live in an igloo in the living room and make s'mores on a gaslight in backyard.
She pulls herself back in the here-and-now, because the middle of a verbal face-off with a self-centered, crazy-competitive, whiny billionaire is not the best time to reminisce about home.
Oliver just huffs indignantly at her statement. "What do you mean, you don't like my coffee? It's the exact same damn coffee, Felicity."
She moves to walk by him while shaking her head. "That's where you're wrong, Oliver.
Yours has this … peculiar aftertaste. Very bitter."
When she's back in the elevator, she mentally fist-pumps, because once again, she's bested Oliver Queen. And, while he's sure to retaliate, he still can't take away this intense feeling of victory she's feeling. So maybe she's starting to get into the competitive thing after all, sue her.
The thought of all the work that's waiting for her on the 88th floor is daunting, and she wishes there were such creatures as elves or leprechauns to take over for her, but even though she might want to sometimes, she doesn't live in a fantasy novel.
Wasting no time in starting again once the elevator drops her back on her deserted floor she moves across the open space, empty desks casting long shadows on the clean tile floor and plops back down in her chair. She'll be happy, and a lot less creeped-out when the place is filled with people and noise. But it won't get filled if she doesn't buckle up and dive in again. She's already sorted through about 85% of the relevant employees, mainly from IT, engineering, security, R&D and bio-science, so now the only thing that's left are supporting staff members.
She's sort of tempted to steal Suzannah away from Oliver, but figures its bad form, and she'd hate to put Suzannah in a compromising position. Felicity likes the older woman too much to do that to her. She figures probably most of the supporting staff is harder to 'steal' away from their current positions, and she'll in all likelihood have to hire all new people. But it can't hurt to try, maybe pick up a lower level administrator with potential who's willing to learn to get higher on the food-chain.
She's deep into the last few files, when she's startled again by his voice behind her.
"You're still here."
Her hands fly to her chest. "God, Oliver! You scared me half to death. What are you? A ghost? Make some damn noise next time." She waits a second until her heart starts beating at a normal pace.
"And what do you mean, still here? You didn't think you'd scared me off already didn't you? I'm a Vegas girl, I don't scare that easily, I can assure you."
"Actually, what I meant was, it's late, why are you still here and not at home." His voice is strangely soft, but it seems to explode in the empty room.
Felicity glances at her watch and flies from her chair. "Oh, Frak! I had no idea it was this late already. I've got to go! If I hurry I could still catch the last train home." She gathers her coat and purse quickly, and hurries towards the elevator. The mess she left behind can wait until tomorrow, because she really can't afford to take a cab back home.
Oliver follows her to the elevator. "I can drive you." He suddenly says.
Felicity blinks.
He sighs, puts his hands in his pockets and leans casually against the side of the elevator, the picture perfect rich-boy pose. "I know I haven't been the most…hospitable person to you over the past few weeks." He gives her a sort of sheepish look. "And I admit I might have gone a little overboard with the coffee thing. So, please, let me at least drive you home, as a peace offering. Besides, my mother would kill me if she ever found out I didn't offer. It's bad manners, you know."
The smile he gives her seems genuine, and he's got this kind of boyish charm that, when he uses it, would make any young, healthy and sane woman a little weak in the knees. Felicity can understand why this version of Oliver Queen, the friendly and open one, had so many women wrapped around his rich and idle fingers. Still, he's been on her case ever since she arrived at Queen Consolidated and she's having a hard time trusting him, charming or not.
"You think I'm charming? Good to know." His smile widens, and his eyes sparkle with a devilish kind of humor.
Felicity's cheeks color instantly and she mentally counts to three to compose herself. "Don't read anything into it, Queen. You've got your moments, that's all."
They arrive down in the lobby and Oliver holds open the elevator doors so she can get out easily. He's looking at her expectant, as he twirls his keys around his index finger
"So? Am I driving you or…?" he leaves the question hanging in the air. Felicity glances at her watch again and sighs. She's missed the last L-train and she really doesn't have the money to pay for a cab-ride all the way into the Glades, not when she already splurged by buying that latte. She studies Oliver for a few moments, weighing his honesty against the crap he's pulled, and decides she doesn't really have a choice.
"Fine," she sighs, "let's go."
Of course, Oliver Queen drives a ridiculously flashy and expensive car, built for speed rather than comfort. It's very low to the ground, and Felicity had a little trouble getting seated without flashing Oliver. The bucket-seat was dark leather that looked very fancy, but felt like she was sitting on a stone boulder instead of in a half a million-dollar car.
When she told him her address she was a little surprised he didn't need to enter it into the fancy looking built-in GPS system, but then again, Starling City was Oliver's home turf.
They'd been driving in surprisingly comfortable silence for a while, when Oliver suddenly slows the car down a fraction.
"So, you usually take the subway to QC?" There's a hint of dislike in his voice.
Felicity nods. "Yup, the subway is about a block away from my apartment and I walk the last bit. It's really not that big of a deal Oliver, hundreds of thousands of people walk home from work every day. And sure, my place might not be super fancy, and admittedly, the walls are very thin. But I've got an amazing couch, Netflix and some bad ass noise-cancelling earpieces. Which I happen to have designed myself, I might add. Not to mention 5 deadbolts and a slide lock. I'd pay the burglar who gets through all that the rest of my start-up cash."
Oliver sighs. "I'm not opposed to the subway Felicity. Contrary to what most people believe, I'm not that much of a snob." Felicity snorts at that, while she runs a hand over the dash of the billionaire's toy. "My mother bought me this car. Honestly, I'd have preferred a slightly less… conspicuous car, but I won't break her heart by returning it. She still holds on to the old Oliver Queen, and he would have loved this kind of thing."
Felicity finds it slightly disturbing he's talking about himself in the third person, but she gets the sentiment. He's changed in the time he's been away, and while she didn't know the old Oliver Queen (thankfully) even she can see subtle differences. Even if he tries really hard to be an obnoxious pain in the ass.
There's a guardedness in his eyes most of the time, underlying to all the other emotions that flash through them. He seems acutely aware of his surroundings at all times, even when he's seemingly at ease, like he is right now. And while he's still a bit of a ladies' man, he isn't the man-whore with the serial killer haircut he once was. Felicity might not always like Oliver, but she can see he's trying.
"Serial killer hair?!" There's mock indignation in his voice, like he's come to accept the fact that Ollie Queen, the man-boy he was before his experiences, really was a douche-bag.
"Oliver," she says, and his eyes snap to hers immediately. "We're here."
"You live here?" He looks out the window dubiously. "This is like, the worst part of a very bad neighborhood. I think there was a meth-lab explosion a little down the road from here, like, last week."
"Three days ago, actually."
"Exactly! Why in the hell would you voluntarily live here? I'm sure that with what we're paying you, you could afford a place in a nicer neighborhood. Or at least a halfway safe one."
Felicity stares at him with her mouth slightly ajar. Just when she was starting get a slightly better opinion of him, he goes and ruins it again. "What you're paying me? Did you actually just…wow… that's…." She shakes her head in disbelief. "Did you even read the contract we signed two weeks ago, or did you just go 'Walter knows what he's doing, I'll just sign and get it over with'?"
Oliver shrugs, "Well… Walter does know what he's doing."
Felicity actually, real-live face-palms at that. "So, what you're saying is that, if somebody you trust reasonably well, pushed a piece of paper under your nose, you'd just go 'okay' and sign it? That might be the stupidest, most irresponsible thing I've heard since… scratch that, I've never heard of anything that idiotic."
"Hey," he starts in defense, his mouth in a tight frown, bus she continues like he hasn't spoken. "Oliver, you're a VP in a fortune 500 company. Your stock price right now might not be at the highest it's ever been, but it's slowly climbing back up. The Queen name also took some hits recently, but that's also steadily getting better again, especially with your commitment to the company. But that also means you've got an enormous responsibility, to your shareholders and your family. If somebody were to let you sign something without you reading it first, it could have catastrophic consequences. Not just for QC and your family, but for everybody that's linked to it. Including yours truly. So please, do me and yourself a favor, read a contract before you sign it."
Oliver breathes a huff of annoyance. "How exactly did we get from 'you should move' to a lecture on proper business managing?"
Felicity shakes her head once more. "You said I should get a better place with what you're paying me. If you'd read the contract, you would know that QC doesn't actually pay me anything."
Oliver's mouth drops in surprise. "We don't pay you? What?!"
"Well, you don't in the technical sense of the word. I'm not on QC payroll and I don't get a monthly paycheck."
"Your company invested in mine by buying 30% of Smoak Tech. owernship in cash, and a further 15% in office space, equipment and personnel costs. Since my company is only worth the patents I registered, basically just notes in a notebook, that 30% is basically nothing and the cost of office and personnel will soon be higher than the actual cash amount."
"The cash QC invested doesn't go to me personally though. I need to use it for things like source materials and licenses and testing. I pay myself a minimum monthly amount, so I can have a roof over my head and food on my plate, but that's all. I'm even sort of defaulting on my student loans at the moment. Hell, that 19-year-old airhead in the QC mailroom probably makes more money than I do at the moment."
"And that won't change until Smoak Tech. actually produces and sells something. At that point, I will take on my personnel costs myself and a while after that I'll either move out of Q-tower, or start paying rent. I'll also pay dividends to QC and any other stakeholders that I might have by then."
"So, in short, no, I really can't afford to live somewhere… less dangerous."
"Uh… Okay, I guess. I'm just not really comfortable with the idea of you living all the way out here."
Felicity huffs. "Good thing you don't need to be comfortable with it. I'm a big girl, Oliver. I can take care of myself. I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, she opens the car door and slowly walks towards her building, showing Oliver she's not concerned about anything.
2 weeks later
She's working on the last interview reports in order to go over them with Oliver in the morning, when he appears behind her.
"Felicity."
While she still startles when he suddenly pops up behind her, she's no longer annoyed about it. In the weeks since he dropped her at her apartment they've built up a good report, and there might even be a tentative friendship growing between them. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
"Yes, Oliver?" she replies distractedly, while typing another few words.
"It's late again." She might be mistaken, but she thinks there's a smile hiding in his tone.
"No. You're wrong. I just looked at my clock and it was only…" she looks at the digital timestamp on her computer screen again "… twelve." She deflates and drops her head on her desk. "Oh god. I swear I was keeping time, it's just, I wanted the files to be perfect for our meeting tomorrow. I must have lost track, again."
He laughs a little. "No worries, Felicity. Let's get your things and I'll get you home safely."
The ride home is fast, and before Felicity knows it, he's opened the car door for her. "Oliver," she chides, "I'm perfectly capable of opening my own door."
"I know you are, but I read somewhere that the Green Arrow stopped 4 muggings on this street over the past week, and I'd rather you get in your apartment in one piece, so please, humor me."
It's true that there has been an increase of violence that seemed to spread out from the docks and slowly made its way through the Glades. The troubling part was that it all seemed to focus on females around the age of 25. Felicity strongly suspected it to be linked to the human trafficking ring operated by Pavel Bezdek, a Czech mafia-wannabe who wanted to make a name for himself in Starling.
She found out about him when she was looking into the underground hacker group Helix, who'd been responsible for a lot of the recent ransomware viruses out there. Since she's got no stomach for dealings such as the sale of human beings, she'd put Helix on the back burner and dug into Pavel. Everything she found out seemed to suggest Pavel is holed up somewhere at the Starling City docks, but the area is far too large for her to investigate, at least until she can narrow her search down some.
Even though she knows all this, and she can absolutely take care of herself, she allows Oliver to walk her up the stairs to her apartment. Its more for his peace of mind than hers, but he's been nice enough to drive her home for the second time in as many weeks, and it's sort of sweet, in a testosterone laden, I'm the man and I'll take care of this kind of way.
They walk up the stairs in comfortable silence, and while they're making their way towards the back of the hallway, Oliver suddenly holds out his arm.
"Felicity," he whispers, "which door is yours?"
"Uhm, the last one. Why?" She whispers as well, even though she doesn't know why he's doing it. It's not like anybody in her building ever thinks about the neighbors when they're screaming their heads off at all hours of the night.
He doesn't answer her, instead he motions for her to stay back as he sneaks closer to her door. She wants to ask him what he's doing, creeping through her hallway like that, when he reaches her door and pushes it open.
Felicity is sure she locked it tightly that morning, all 5 deadbolts and the slide lock as well. As she moves closer to her door, she can see what alarmed Oliver. Her entire door looks like Swiss cheese, with holes the size of baseballs that blew out all five of her locks.
She vaguely wonders why somebody like Oliver Queen would voluntarily walk into a room where there where possible gangsters with big-ass shotguns, but the biggest part of her brain is trying to process what she sees.
Everything in her apartment is either tossed on the floor, ripped open or broken. Every dish she has is lying in a thousand pieces on her kitchenette floor, her sofa and bed are cut open and all the stuffing is spread on every available surface.
Seeing her apartment like this breaks Felicity's heart, and Oliver mistakes the tears in her eyes for fear instead of the sadness and anger she actually feels. He's horrified as well, but there's a little glint in his eyes that makes it obvious he really wants to say 'I told you so' but knows now is not the time.
And because he's a man and they usually don't know how to deal with tears, he goes "Looks like you'll be losing a lot of capital."