A big hug and a heartfelt thank you to nrdhrd3 and especially to lisbon99, who really made my day by being awesome, who both took the time to review. I am also happy to find some people enjoyed the story enough to follow and heart it, which was also amazing. Thank you! I hope you will stick with me even after this chapter, which is a little change of pace. Whatever the verdict, let me know what you think!

Oh, and I added a before forgotten disclaimer to chapter one, because – obviously – I don't own anything and mean no harm.

Enough said, have fun!

2. Cheap Comments (Beatsteaks)

It was rare that Felicity Smoak was stunned into silence. Normally, Felicity had something to say about everything – and once she had started she was hard to stop. Felicity was a talker. Okay, she was a babbler, a rambler. She had quite a lot of foot in mouth situations; but it nearly never happened that the cat got her tongue. Which was pretty good, actually, because she was allergic to cats. Getting in contact with their fur caused her nose to run and her eyes to turn red and... It just wasn't pretty. Her first roommate at MIT, Amanda Smalls, had tried to talk Felicity into adopting a cat. An idea like that could only come from a girl studying "Comparative Media Studies". Of course, she had the time to look after a cat! This whole living arrangement had never been meant to be...

Realizing that she had gotten a little off topic, she pulled herself together, and tried to come up with a reasonable explanation why Starling's Gossip Network was telling the world that Oliver and she were engaged. But Felicity couldn't think of any reason why that should make any sense

But at least she now understood why people had stared at her on the way through the lobby earlier. And in the crowded elevator. And in the break room, when she had put her salad in the fridge. They had all known... Or thought they knew something, when they knew nothing. Because there was just nothing to know anything about.

Her eyes travelled over the lime green letters again, taking them in, before she let them glide lower and started reading the text underneath the huge headline:

"Oliver Queen is hardly the first CEO to bed his secretary, but it seems like this is more serious than a rump on the desk with a great view over the city... Rumors have been circulating for some time that the relationship between the returned billionaire and his blonde secretary, Felicity Smoke, is anything but purely professional. Now a source close to the couple confirms, 'They are very much in love.' The insider reveals the big proposal happened two weeks ago, but the couple have kept quiet until now. 'They are planning a party to reveal the big news. Felicity just can't decide on the perfect location.' The notorious playboy Oliver Queen settling down? Many thought they'd never see the day. No matter how long this marriage may actually last: For Felicity Smoke, a nobody in Starling's who's who until now, it is most definitely a big catch."

This was so offensive! This contained so many awful things that it combined to the most offensive thing in the history of extreme offensiveness. Felicity didn't even know which part of it was the worst. The rump on the desk was really insulting. The idea that she would be into a big engagement announcement party was just wrong. And the last sentence left a bitter taste in her mouth, because she wasn't some gold digger. Just like Oliver wasn't just some billionaire playboy bedding his underlings. Okay, she was a nobody in Starling's who's who – the fact that they had spelled her name wrong proved this –, but that still didn't mean that she liked reading it. She didn't like reading her name – no matter the spelling – on some internet gossip platform. Not in general. But especially not in this exact context!

"Looks like you really need this."

Oliver's voice ripped her out of her train of thought, which had been angrily speeding ahead. She flinched in her seat, and her eyes snapped to him. It took her a heartbeat to realize that his statement was referring to the latte he was just placing on her desk. Not that she really believed Oliver to think that she needed this offensive piece of bad journalism. Was it even considered journalism when it was nothing but a collection of lies? Her friend Anna Krug, who had worked for the MIT paper, had once told her that the most important thing a journalist had to do was to make sure all names were spelled correctly, because names were news. So, that article counted as an epic journalistic fail.

Even though, Felicity didn't really mind the spelling error when it came to her name. At least Google wouldn't automatically connect this Felicity Smoke, a boss-bedding gold digger, to Felicity Smoak, summa cum laude MIT graduate. Felicity Smoke sounded like a disgrace, really. She-

"Felicity?"

Oliver's soft voice stopped her right there. And finally her tongue dared to move again. Strangely, the first words it formed were, "It's Executive Assistant."

"What?"

"Executive Assistant," she repeated, adding, "not secretary."

Seeing that he really had no idea what she was talking about – she shouldn't be surprised, Oliver was not the kind of guy to read gossip on the internet –, she decided that he needed to see this for himself. She brought her hands up and turned the computer screen toward him.

The following moment was the first time she had ever seen Oliver truly shell-shocked. He stared at the monitor and all color drained from his face. It lasted a few seconds, before he fought for his composure again. He brought both of his hands up to his eyes, his fingertips lightly touching his eyebrows, and slowly, softly blew air out between his lips.

Felicity had seen Oliver inhale sharply uncounted times. It was a clear sign of anger and the try to keep that anger in, but she had never seen him cautiously exhale like this, in an effort to steady himself and steel himself for what was coming.

It didn't last long. He was switching on his battle mode in the next moment. Felicity knew, because she could dimly hear the edge in his voice that she always connected to the Arrow as he now asked, "Can you take it down?"

Her voice was careful and quiet, "I could. But I don't know, if I should..." She motioned around herself, "...from here..." In the Foundry she knew that she was as good as untraceable, but her work station at Queen Consolidated was lacking in that aspect.

"Doesn't matter. Do it," he decided.

Felicity was already bringing her fingers to her keyboard as Oliver moved around the desk to position himself behind her. In the Foundry he often stood like that, watching her work and waiting for the results he needed to spring into action, but at QC he had never done that before. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but Felicity forced herself to ignore it. She had to concentrate on the task at hand. The firewall of SGN was surprisingly solid – Starling's prison system network was a piece of cake compared to this. The thought was too worrisome to really consider it.

But if you did consider it, it made sense, actually. Prisoners cost money, but gossip brought in the cash. You could totally earn a lot with good gossip, because people wanted to know about what other people did, they wanted to talk about it and share it with their friends...

Suddenly, a dark suspicion arose in Felicity. She opened Google. In the next moment she had searched "Oliver Queen engaged" and had found approximately 948.000 results in 0,19 seconds. A small number of them were actually about her and Oliver, but it still were enough, too many. She felt Oliver stiffen behind her like he always did when he got news he didn't like. She could relate to that.

This was the first time in Felicity Smoak's life that the internet was bad news.

"It spread." Oliver's statement made it sound like a disease...

That was actually quite fitting in Felicity's opinion. She glanced back at him as she said, "It's gone viral. I don't think that can be contained." Felicity jumped in her seat as Oliver's hand slammed down on her desk behind her. He cursed under his breath. Felicity ignored that. Her eyes were again on the Google results. One in particular was catching her attention as it was claiming to have proof that confirmed SGN's story. She clicked on it, and only another click later she heard Oliver's voice come from the computer speaker.

"Kent tried to question you?"

Again, his hand came down onto her desk. This time he used so much force that her still untouched latte-filled cup nearly toppled over. Felicity swallowed hard as she now heard her own voice.

"Yes, he also wanted to know, if we spent any time together outside of work. I just told him that the elevator had arrived and wished him a nice day." God, she was talking really fast. She herself could hardly understand what she was saying. She really should enunciate better. Even though, if she was completely honest, she didn't want to hear what she knew came next. She somehow wished people wouldn't be able to make it out. "I mean what else should I have said? It would hardly be appropriate to tell him how we spent our nights together." Nope. Perfectly understandable. Damn it!

"Hardly. – Have you made any progress in our research?"

"I have. I have very promising data. I narrowed it down to three possible locations for an engagement. I hope I will be down to just one by tonight."

That was worse than the offensive article. That was their own words being turned against them. And somehow it left her lost. She turned around and glanced up at Oliver, who was sporting a serious angry face, and asked, "What now? I mean-"

Her voice brought him into action. "Not here." He walked around her desk and motioned for her to follow him to his office.

She barely kept from rolling her eyes. "Right, because it was just established how perfectly soundproof this thing is." But, still, she followed him, walked into the office and past Oliver, who was standing by the door sending her an annoyed glance before he closed the door. He walked toward where she had stopped by his desk. For a moment they stood in silence.

Of course, it was Felicity who ended it. "This is bad." It was stating the obvious, she knew, but that didn't make it any less true. "Did you know that people believe us to be sleeping with each other?" The look that crossed his face told her everything she needed to know. "You did?"

"Isabel might have mentioned something like that..." He trailed off, only to shed the caught look and exchange it with a hard expression. "But that's beside the point. The poi-"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing! She cut him off right there. "Maybe for you it is!" Her index finger poked his chest. "You are the billionaire playboy in this scenario. I'm the secretary getting the rump with a city-view!"

"Felicity..."

"No! Not Felicity! I told you, I worked very hard. To get a scholarship, to be able to go to MIT, to not be a woman who lives off of men like... other... women I know. And now one article turns me into a blonde secretary getting bedded by her boss. For me that is pretty much the whole point!"

Oliver looked at her, compassion on his face, "Point taken."

Not even that could get a smile out of her. "Maybe I'm overreacting," she admitted now. "Maybe I'm blowing this thing out of proportion. But in my defense it's the first time I made the news... Well, technically, it's the second time, but it wasn't my idea to do the Mentos-Coke-explosion at the mall's science fair. Back then this trick was all the rage. And we really had no way of knowing that the Coke would spill onto the sound system on stage and-"

"Felicity."

"My point is," she stated, getting a look from Oliver, but not missing a beat, "this is freaking me out."

"It has not escaped my attention." He took a deep breath before he brought one hand to her shoulder. "We will figure this thing out. We'll spin this somehow."

"How?" It was an honest question, because she really had no idea. "The article, okay, I can see spinning-potential there. But how do you want to spin the recording?" He just looked at her, and she knew he had no idea either. She swallowed as an idea popped up in her brain. "Maybe we should just break up publicly... Preferably, after I found a new job... If I'll get a new job after all this... With a boss who doesn't think I'm... available." Her eyes met his. "But that might be a solution. Just break up. We're good at keeping stuff secret. We can just meet up secretly at night." She pressed her mouth together, closed her eyes while she brought her hand up to her forehead. She should really avoid this phrasing. It was nothing but trouble. And it was kinda embarrassing that it had left her lips again.

Oliver kept her from counting backwards, which was a stupid habit of hers and a vocal sign that she was rebooting her thoughts. "We will not do this," he stated. "You are not another one of Oliver Queen's affairs, and we will not let anybody believe this."

It was nice of him to say that. It was really, really nice to hear that. A tingle rushed through her and settled in her stomach like it always did when he said really nice things like that. Things that showed how much he cared, what a good friend he was. Things that were so good to hear, but also a reminder that she really, really wanted him to be more than just a friend. She could feel another one of those stupid love-stuck smiles threatening to appear on her face, one of those that always popped up when he said nice things like this. But he already knew that this whole thing was affecting her much more than it was affecting him, and she needed to keep some of her dignity. So she forced herself to say something distracting, "It really freaks me out when you refer to yourself in third person like this."

He didn't react to her statement at all. He probably knew that she was just trying to change topics. They were so familiar with each other, they could read the other one nearly perfectly by now. A dim smile showed on Oliver's face. He brought his other hand to her other shoulder, his eyes connected with hers, "I promise you, whatever might happen with this, it won't change a thing between us."

And there it was, the girly smile she had tried to avoid. Damn it!

"That's good to know. Because I think I can offer the perfect location for an engagement party."

The female voice startled them both into movement. His hands letting go of Felicity, Oliver shot around to face the door, moving so that Felicity could see Moira Queen standing there.

That right here proved that Oliver wasn't as unaffected by the gossip as he had acted. Normally, nobody managed to sneak up on him – and especially not his mother with her nude high heels. The thought that it was really impolite to just enter this office, when the door was closed and it must have been obvious that they were having a private conversation – those walls were made of freaking glass after all –, entered Felicity's mind, but for once she swallowed this remark. There really was no need to make this situation any more uncomfortable.

"Mom," Oliver said, it was an acknowledgement of her presence as much as it was a greeting. It was Oliver's way of being polite and not at all welcoming at the same time, Felicity knew.

"Oliver." Now Felicity realized where he had gotten that tactic from. And Moira was the master at it. She now entered the office completely, closing the door behind her and headed to the couple. "And you must be Felicity," she offered the younger woman her hand, "it's nice to finally meet you."

Felicity took it. "Actually, we met before, several times." Inwardly, she was kicking herself for letting that hint slip. So much for not making this any more uncomfortable.

"Yes," Moira seemed unfazed and smiled a smile that didn't fully reach her eyes. "But I never knew that you were dating my son. Let alone planning to marry him."

"I am not," Felicity hurried to say – and couldn't stop herself from adding more words, "I have absolutely no plans. I mean, I do have some plans. Just not... big life-changing plans. It's more a to-do-list. Like eating salad for lunch and not the double chocolate muffins from the café down the street – no matter how heavenly they are. Because they are. So good."

Thank God, Oliver chose that moment to interrupt. "Mom, Felicity and I are not engaged."

"You are not?" There was surprise audible in Moira's voice, but her eyes showed that she had suspected that before. "Then you have another explanation for the recording Thea played during breakfast this morning."

It took him a moment to answer. "I... have not."

"Then maybe you should stop denying your engagement and share the happy news. Especially in the light of the board members starting to gather in the conference room."

Wow, that woman was cold. Felicity couldn't help but swallow hard as Moira's glance now settled on her. "I will gladly host your engagement party at our home. Why don't you come to dinner tonight? We should get to know each other better." She sent Felicity one last smile before she turned around, "We should go and meet the board, Oliver."

It was obvious that Oliver was not happy. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked at Felicity. "Don't worry. This is not happening!" Then he went to follow his mother.

The internet hated her. How it had happened – Felicity had no idea. Their relationship had been solid and strong for over a decade and now everything was falling apart.

For one, the spelling error had been corrected. Felicity Smoke had turned into Felicity Smoak and now her life was turning public knowledge. Didn't people have better things to do than talking about Oliver Queen? Because Felicity knew that this wasn't about her, not really. In reality it was all about him: about the billionaire that could get everything money could buy – plus a few things more. It was about the playboy CEO who had been allegedly lost at sea for five years only to suddenly return from the supposed dead. It was about the good-looking man who could have any girl he wanted only to settle for a nobody. To make matters even worse: for a nobody with glasses.

There was a war going on in the Middle East, Iraq was burning, Russia was acting up again – and people were talking about how Oliver Queen could settle for a girl with glasses!

Some people mentioned that she cleaned up good, posting a picture of her at the Annual Auction of the Starling City Cancer Society – thank God, it had been taken before the Dodger had put the bomb collar on her. She was only a tiny figure in the background of the picture, but it had been enough for people to question why she didn't always put in contacts.

Because they hurt her eyes!

She could only tolerate them for a few hours before her eyes started to redden. And, honestly, Felicity liked her glasses. She had carefully picked them, because they fit her. So who cared that they weren't huge and round as somebody had complained. Huge and round might be the hipsta-choice to go, but it did her face no favors! Really, had people nothing better to do than talking about her? Or rather: judging her?!

She shouldn't be reading this, she should be working, she knew, but she couldn't stop herself. She clicked on another link and couldn't keep the unhappy groan from escaping from her lips. How, the hell, had that photo made it online? Now braces were added to the glasses. Felicity stared at the picture showing her awkwardly smiling 13 year old self and was forced to relive a time she had wanted to forget.

"Felicity?"

Again, she was ripped out of her thoughts. Her eyes snapped to the huge man in front of her desk, whose muscles really tested the seams of his suit. "I bet this was Helen Golding's doing. She always hated me. Especially after Craig Riddlemeyer asked me to the winter dance!" She looked back to her screen and the picture showing there. "But this really is good revenge."

"You need to stop reading that," John Diggle said now.

"I know. But I can't." She looked at her friend. "I never knew I had masochistic tendencies."

"You learn something new about yourself every day." His smile showed his teasing.

But Felicity didn't feel like joking. "Today really was a lesson."

"Please, turn that off," Diggle said now. "Oliver just called me. He had to go to lunch with the board members. He asked me to get you out of here safely, because the sidewalk outside is full of press."

"This is such a mess." Felicity shrunk in her seat.

"It is, but we'll figure it out. Come on, let's go. You can continue torturing yourself at the Foundry."

"Oh joy," Felicity said joylessly. Just as she reached for her purse, her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID blinking in the display she answered with a "Detective."

"Miss Smoak, I always believed you to be a smart woman."

"Detective?"

"Oliver Queen. Really? Do I need to remind you of his track record when it comes to women – which includes both of my daughters? He is not the man a good girl like you should bind herself to."

Strangely Felicity's first instinct was not to deny but to defend. "He changed. He's not that guy anymore. He's a good man." Realizing what she was saying and how this must sound to the unsuspecting detective and to Diggle, who was smirking at her, she changed rhetorical gears instantly. "But it doesn't matter anyway, because-"

She didn't get to finish her explanation as Detective Lance cut her off, "You're right, it's none of my business. Just tell me, will you be able to continue working with our mutual friend?"

"Oliver never minded before... Why?"

"Because I need you to contact him. I'm investigating yesterday's events, and all evidence suggests that Laurence Burton didn't act on his own account."

"The Bomber wasn't really the Bomber?"

The Detective sighed. "He was, but he was forced to built and plant these bombs. We found e-mails that show he was blackmailed into doing it. Somebody captured his wife and his kid."

"Who?"

"I don't know. And I don't know where the Burtons are. But I think I know why the kidnappers did it."

"Why?"

"They want to kill the Arrow."

It would have been a stupid question, and Lance wasn't stupid. So, he did not ask, does the Arrow have any enemies. Because... Duh!

The problem with the Arrow wasn't to name any enemies who might want him dead. The problem was to figure out which of his enemies wanted him dead. Felicity hadn't even bothered to try to come up with an answer to this – yet. They would have to deal with this problem at some point, but Oliver had made it clear, when Diggle had called him to inform him about this change of events, that Burton's kidnapped family – his pregnant wife Melody and his two-year old son Daniel – were their first priority.

Felicity had prioritized accordingly. She had hacked into Laurence Burton's e-mail-account, found the mails Lance had been referring to, had shuddered through watching the heart-breaking video that was attached to it, and with an even stronger resolution she had tried tracing the IP-address this mail had come from – which had, unsurprisingly, been an internet-café. Which meant hacking the surveillance system of "St rling goes online" – that thing had been founded in 2002, back then names like that had been all the rage –, scanning through the footage of the day and time the mail had been sent, running the possible kidnappers through FBI-facial recognition and coming up with a strong candidate; mobster for fire Lee Brady.

She had performed a miracle when she had come up with an address of a storage unit belonging to one of Brady's aliases. Not that Oliver or John had even mentioned it. They were so used to her getting them answers that the barely acknowledged when she did. In fact, Oliver had already been dressed in green leather by the time she had dug up the address. But she had stopped him from leaving by reminding him that Lance believed this whole thing to be about killing him. So, how did he know it wasn't a trap?

He didn't.

He had gone anyway.

But he had taken Diggle with him as back-up. And now Felicity was sitting alone in the lair while being forced to once again listen to battle sounds through her earpiece without really knowing how the battle went. She had seen Oliver fight, she knew he was really good at it, but she heard gunfire – and no matter how good you were, a bullet could always hit you. After all, one had the day he had revealed his secret identity to her. In his defense, his mother had been the one holding the gun, he hadn't brought his a-game that day, being distracted and emotionally involved. The fact that his mother being the one to shoot him wasn't an all that good defense caused her to leave that train of thought behind, just as another volley of shots rang through the audio connection.

It left Felicity feeling helpless. She always hated that part. She hated being on the outside. Even tough, she knew that she really wouldn't be of any help to him. She would be a liability and a distraction – and she wanted to be neither. Which was why she always stayed quiet while Oliver was fighting and waited for the signal that everything was good and under control.

It came in this moment. "It's done, Felicity. Call Lance and tell him where he can find the Burtons and their kidnappers."

"Will do."

"And then get ready. My mother's expecting us for dinner."

Felicity froze in her actions. "What? But you told me that wasn't happening."

This statement was greeted by nothing but silence for quite some time until Oliver finally said, "I was talking about the engagement party, this is not happening."

"You mean, we're going to have dinner with your mother tonight?"

"Yes – and quite possibly Thea will be there, too."

Felicity needed a moment to take that in. Then she couldn't help but jump out of her seat. "Oh my God!"

The urgency in her voice caused Oliver's to sound tense instantly as well. "What!" he demanded to know.