Summary: Oliver hasn't even managed to wait a day before he's at her office. Unfortunately, his first meeting doesn't quite go the way he imagined it would.

He spends twenty minutes at the entrance with security – not because they don't recognise him or won't let him but partly to stall and partly to see where their physical security measures are lacking. Working with ARGUS had taught him a bit – but working with Dig for years had taught him a hell of a lot more.

Then, finally, he's standing in front of the IT department.

Hovering.

Pacing.

His hands are sweaty. He feels shaky.

Felicity doesn't know him from- well, anybody. He has to make a good impression.

She's been attracted to him physically from the start which, at least, wouldn't be a problem. But Oliver wants a hell of a lot more from her than just a quick roll in her bed.

He wants Felicity Smoak to fall in love with him – to love him more than any person should love another human being, in her own words.

He wants another chance at being her always.

Oliver rubs his sweaty palms together, tries to straighten his trousers and top, neaten his hair, trying to do anything and everything he can to swoop her off her feet.

And maybe make him feel less like jumping out the window he's been eying with far too much consideration to make anyone comfortable.

"It's not you're proposing to her," he tells himself, trying his hand at a pep-talk, rolling his shoulders back and trying to step towards the IT department again.

"Proposing?" He hears her lilting voice coming from behind him with an undercurrent of curiosity, "to whom?"

Oliver shuts his eyes for a moment, despairing at her – and his own – truly terrible timing.

Of course.

Of course, this is when she'd find him.

"Hi. Felicity Smoak?" He asks, although he already knows the answer and turns around to face her. "I'm Oliver Queen," he tells her on autopilot, drinking her in.

She's so young, so bright and absolutely, stunningly beautiful. God, he loved her so much. He held himself rigidly, trying to stop himself from reaching for her – or worse, kissing her. Instead, he probably looks standoffish.

"I know who you are," she reassures him quickly, adjusting her glasses. "You're Mr. Queen."

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile at the familiar response and shakes his head gently.

"No. Mr. Queen was my father. Just Oliver, please."

She descends into a babble – her first one with him and oh so familiar. And just as adorable. He smiles helplessly at her, knows there's too much affection written all over his face for a person he supposedly just met – but he can't help it.

That's his wife. His beautiful, perfect, far-too-clever wife.

"So, who were you proposing to? Or not proposing to?" Of course she hadn't forgotten that.

"You," he answers promptly without thinking about it only to see her mouth gape and her eyes widen and finds himself backtracking quickly when he realises why she's panicking.

"Sorry, being away for five years has clearly had a detrimental effect on my communication skills," he excuses himself sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he's gone too pale too quickly. Oliver watches Felicity relax back into her normal self at the excuse and smiles warmly.

"And it's clearly even worse with gorgeous women," he adds but knows the moment he's said it, that it's too much and her hackles are back up.

Damn it.

He'd like to think he used be smoother and that this used to be easier, but really, it's just years of a relationship as colleagues, friends and partners-in-crime they had to build on. By the time he flirted with Felicity, he'd known it was welcome, despite their tumultuous relationship over the years.

"How can I help you, Mr. Queen – Oliver?" She asks, her tone courteous and professional and the same one she used at events and galas to brush off men.

That- definitely could have gone better.

At least his excuse will hopefully allow him to spend a few hours with her at his side.

"As you may or may not have heard – I was away for five years," he deliberately doesn't say he was on the island for five years – because he wasn't. And he has no intention of starting their relationship off with lies. "And I've been told you're the most capable person in our IT department with the most up-to-date knowledge who can give me an overview of technological advances in the interim."

"Oh," she says, surprised, and just like that he sees her relax again. Technology is her field of expertise and given her short time at Queen Consolidated she's likely not received as much positive accolades and attention for her work as she should. Not yet. Another thing for him to work on.

"Sure," she offers with a wide smile. "I'd be happy to walk you through everything. When would work for you?"

Oliver shrugs. "At the moment my schedule's wide open – whenever suits you, suits me."

And even if his schedule were filled to the brim, he'd clear it.

Felicity hesitates for only a moment before inviting him to follow her back to her cubicle. She's quick to start her computer back up, brows furrowed adorably as she gently bites on her lower lip, navigating through her calendar. Finally, she heaves a sigh and looks back up at him.

"Does now work for you, Oliver?"

"Of course. If that's okay with you," he offers conscientiously, making sure he isn't looming over her – but he knows she is wary of him, of the way he's behaved – what he's said. He's making her nervous and not the good being attracted to her boss kind of way, but the potential stalker kind of way.

Oliver's brows furrow as he gazes at the woman still standing, leaning over to look at her computer. He's made sure he stands to her side, so he has no view of her cleavage or her bottom as she's bent over – and possibly make her think he's also a leering pig or playboy. Not that stalker is better, but that one he can at least disprove unlike the other ones. His eyes never stray from hers as she straightens up to look at him curiously.

"If I made you uncomfortable earlier or now," he starts cautiously, tilting his head slightly to keep a better eye on her shifting body language. "tell me, and I will just walk out of here and forget this ever happened. Stepson of the boss or family name on the building, none of it matters. I promise there won't be any repercussions. And I'm really sorry if I've overstepped or made you uncomfortable at all."

He wouldn't quite actually forget this happened or leave her, but he would keep his distance, soften his entire approach with her. Dramatically so.

Still, Oliver can't help but really hope she wouldn't send him away.

Felicity sat down, still looking at him, but her tense posture slackened, her fingers on the keyboard relaxed as she eyed him from her seat and Oliver remained, hands in his pocket, a few feet away from her cubicle so he isn't towering over her or in her space, hoping she could read him as well as she always did, could see his sincerity and regret.

Finally, her lips quirked up into a warm smile and Oliver heaved out a shaky breath before he could stop himself, knowing he'd been forgiven.

"You look like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar," she admits, giggling and Oliver snorts at her description and barely stops himself from making an innuendo which would not go down well with her – and erase all the progress he's been making.

"Sorry," he says easily. It's always easy to apologise to her. She makes it easy. He normally struggles with it, struggles with admitting he's wrong – but not with her. He's had to work damn hard to make her forgive him for some of the stupid things he did – but she did. Her faith, her trust, her belief in him, they never faltered. In the end, apologising to Felicity was easy because it only strengthened what they had.

"Can we start over again?" He asks and watches as she, after making a quick note to herself on her notepad, bites on the end of her red pen, watching him carefully before smiling and nodding. Relieved, he steps forward, wiping his hand on his trousers before stretching it out over the small barrier around her cubicle.

"Hi. I'm Oliver Queen. Please call me Oliver."

"Felicity Smoak." Her hand fits perfectly in his and he cradles it gently, giving it firm press before releasing it. But he can't bring himself to pull his hand away, stepping closer as he looks at her beautiful eyes as she gazes at him, refusing to be the first one to turn away, her hand resting in his.

"Please. Call me Felicity," she offers quietly, her voice just this side of breathy.

God, he adores this woman.

"Felicity," he repeats softly, slowly, loving the way his tongue wraps around her name, caressing the syllables in his mouth and he can see the blush rise on her face, the silent oh, and knows, knows, that once again Oliver is far too open, too revealing, struggling to hide the depth of his feelings – of his love for her.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," he says gently, warm eyes still fastened onto her own, softly extracting his hand and pulling back. He cannot push her too fast, too far, too soon; he knows that. It's just so difficult when she's right there and everything he's always wanted, just in reach.

But he knows she needs time to get there. He can't push her. Her life, her choice, he reminds himself. Oliver just needs to make sure she knows that he is one of the choices open to her and needs to make sure he does his best to be her first choice. Her only choice.

"Pleasure's all mine," she offers back, dazed slightly before blinking, flushing as she realises just how long they stood there gazing in each other's eyes, ducking her head. He doesn't want to see embarrassment or shame – not about their moment just now, so he does his best to smile reassuringly at her, tapping her shoulder gently to get her attention and asking if it's alright if he pulls up a chair beside her.

Please review and share your thoughts - would really like to know what you think of their first meet.