A/N: I started this story before S3 began, and I do not read spoilers. Anything that mirrors what has happened on the show is intentional, while anything that predicts what might happen is unintentional. This isn't my idea of what S3 will be; it's just something that I thought would be fun to write/read. It is complete, it finishes up with the hiatus flash fic prompts, and I will be posting regularly – probably once a week. I know that I have a ficlet and a one shot series to complete, and those are on my horizon, but I wanted to wrap up these prompts first. Plus, I'm still very much interested in Jax and Tara (Sons of Anarchy) and will continue to write for them as well. Anyway, I think that's all I need share in this update. Thanks for reading and enjoy! ~Charlynn~
FF#12: Deputy Mommy
Flash Fic Prompt #12: Whatever It Takes
As Felicity slid into the booth across from Oliver, she smiled. She couldn't help it. Even though it was still awkward between them, even though she had no idea why they were there and where everyone else was, it had been so long, and it just felt too normal not to grin. "We haven't been here since Digg tried to date Carly, and it didn't work out." Eyes going wide with realization, she cursed her inability to think first before speaking. For a girl who could mentally work out ten different contingency tech plans in a matter of seconds, when it came to communicating, especially with Oliver, she possessed absolutely no foresight. "Please don't tell me this means I can never eat Italian again, because, if so, I'm just going to stop dating now. I love food too much to sacrifice it on the off chance of joint tax returns and his and her closets."
"And here I thought your generation dated in order to have sex."
Felicity briefly broke eye contact with Oliver to flick her gaze over towards the new arrival, over towards the person who had just spoken. "No. That's separate. In fact, it's been my recent experience that dating doesn't even include kissing." Because that was saved for breaking up.
"Yes, well, perhaps we should keep that between just the three of us moving forward," Walter suggested helpfully.
Felicity nodded. And then she did a double take, finally realizing just who she had been confiding in about her sex life. Or, to be fair, her non-sex life, because that well was drier than Death Valley, and everyone knew that California was in the middle of a horrible drought. "Uh... Mr. Steele, what are you doing here?" Blinking several times, Felicity took in the scene playing out before her eyes, the setting. She was sitting in a booth in a burger joint with Starling City's former billionaire playboy (but no less of a media darling) and her former boss, a very British (as far as her BBC obsession had convinced her) banker. "What are you doing here?"
For the first time since she had arrived, Oliver spoke. "I thought it best if we met somewhere... more private."
Felicity groaned. "Oh no," she exclaimed – shoulders falling, face crumpling, her good mood (relatively speaking) evaporating. "Who died?" Gaze zigzagging back and forth between the two men, she finally landed upon Walter... well, for obvious reasons. "Or is dying?"
"Good god, Miss Smoak, I'm not that old."
"Well, no," she immediately agreed, rushing to allay his offense. But that didn't mean that she was ready to admit fault either. "But, statistically speaking..."
Before she could dig her hole any deeper, Oliver cut her off. "Nobody's dying. Nothing's wrong." She sighed in relief. "We just... what we need to discuss with you is extremely sensitive."
"Isn't it always," she quipped with a roll of her eyes. Perhaps the gesture was somewhat muted behind her glasses, but Walter still smirked. Meanwhile, Oliver just looked like someone had given him a wedgie... which he should be used to given his penchant for leather pants, but that really wasn't something she should be thinking about at the moment – sitting across from Walter, having a very serious conversation inside Big Belly Burger of all places. Ugh. Where were the other children – Digg and Roy – when she needed their support... i.e. their juvenile senses of humor?
"Felicity," Walter took control, seemingly sensing that Oliver and Felicity could bicker back and forth all night without actually accomplishing anything. And he was right. They could. It was a more recent development in their relationship, or, really, it was a callback to how things had been between them in the beginning. "How much attention do you pay to politics?"
"More than Oliver, that's for sure."
"Right," Walter responded, sounding resigned.
On the other hand, the former billionaire in question protested vehemently, "hey!" It wasn't the most eloquent of objections, but Oliver still got his point across.
Felicity just grinned innocently, mischievously... and, yes, that combination was possible, folding her hands before her on top of the formica table. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we," she suggested. "I can only handle so much small talk on an empty stomach, and neither of you seem in any hurry to order."
"Good god no," Walter grimaced, shuddering. "You don't actually eat here, do you?" At Felicity's raised, pointed brow (basically, she gave him her best 'duh' expression), he blanched in horror. "Ms. Smoak, we're only here because Oliver assured me that the press would not find us here. We don't want them getting wind of our plans until we're ready to formally announce."
"Ready to announce what?"
"I'm going to pick up where my mother left off and run for mayor."
Frowning, Felicity snapped, "be serious, Oliver." When he and Walter just exchanged guileless glances, her mouth fell open in shock... like a fish. It was very unbecoming but a well-deserved moment of losing her composure. Then, she laughed... a full-on belly laugh, which was appropriate, Felicity reasoned, considering where they were. "You," she mocked, wiping away a tear of mirth. "A public figure of honor, justice, and good will?" Okay, so it fit with his not-so-public persona, but Walter (and the rest of the city, for that matter) were still in the dark as to who Oliver really was when the sun went down and the lights came up... right? While she couldn't go with that angle in her protestations – um, hello, how can you be a secret vigilante/hero when you're the man in front of the curtain, running the city? – there were other wrinkles to consider, to present and argue. "Who's going to vote for you?"
Oliver looked offended and annoyed with her question, but it was Walter who answered. "He'd be running uncontested. Plus, Moira was able to greatly repair the family's image before she... passed. Oliver has been a different man since his return. The polls show that the people of Starling City both recognize and respect that. Plus, now that he's technically an underdog, he's actually more relatable."
"Which makes him more electable," she supplied, filling in where her former boss left off. But that didn't mean that Felicity was ready to accept what was being presented to her yet, that she was finished objecting to this... ludicrous, preposterous idea. "But... what about Queen Consolidated," she sputtered, zeroing her unwavering gaze into Oliver's. "What about getting your family's company back?"
"If Ray Palmer wants to run my company, he can... for now," Oliver answered, shocking Felicity even further. Since the moment they arrived back in Starling after yet again taking their summer vacation to Lian Yu – this time to drop someone off, not pick someone up, Oliver had been all about QC, about reclaiming his fortune, and about beating his latest business rival. "I'll run my city."
Oh, for the love of... "Why don't you two just whip your... responsibilities... out on the table and compare them already," Felicity groused, tired of the testosterone fueled oneupmanship she had been witness to between the two men recently.
Apparently finding this vein of bickering more amusing, Walter encouraged, "and who is going to judge the size of these... responsibilities, Ms. Smoak? Yourself, perhaps?"
Before she could respond, before she could play along, before she could even smile at the teasing, Oliver quietly seethed, "over my dead body."
Glaring at him from across the table, Felicity didn't say anything out loud, but she let her displeasure be known nonetheless. Silently, she condemned Oliver. You can't have it both ways, the snapping blue flames of her eyes said. You can't push me away but keep me close. You can't refuse to be with me but become all melodramatic and possessive at even the thought of me being with someone else. You can't tell me what to do, who to date, or, in this case, who not to date or do. It didn't matter, though, how much she glowered at him, how much she mentally yelled at him... and Felicity had no doubt that he could hear everything she was thinking, Oliver wouldn't back down. He returned her heated glance with every ounce of fervor he had, never blinking.
It was Walter who broke their little staring contest. "While this is all extremely fascinating, we didn't just ask you to meet us here, Ms. Smoak, so we could tell you about Oliver's bid for mayor." When she still refused to look away from Oliver, Walter added, "we want to offer you a job."
Well, that certainly did the trick. Surprised, she glanced at her former boss, saying the first thing that came to mind. "But I already have a job." Yeah. Working for Ray Palmer... which Oliver just loved.
"I want you to join the campaign," Oliver revealed.
"As what," she barked, once more shooting daggers at him. Oh, Felicity knew what he was up to. Oliver didn't like it when she wasn't close. They had been down this road before, and that road eventually came to the dead-end of her career. "Your campaign manager, because, Oliver, just like being your executive assistant, that's just a secretary gig wrapped up in the shiny bow of a different, less offensive title."
She could have gone on for days – weeks!... well past the actual election, but Walter shut her up with just four words. "As his deputy mayor." Shocked and at a loss for words – a first for her, perhaps, Felicity just sat back and listened as the most unlikely... yet surprisingly not unappealing job offer was presented to her. "We want you to run for office with Oliver. We think that the two of you will be – are – an unbeatable team." Mentally, she snorted. If only Walter knew the half of it... "Your backgrounds, your skills, your strengths couldn't be more opposite if you tried, but that just means that you compliment each other well. Plus, as this meeting has emphasized for me yet again, you keep Oliver on his toes, Ms. Smoak. That's good for a politician... even better for a man."
If she didn't know better, Felicity would have thought Walter was pitching Oliver to her as more than just a running-mate. In fact, drop the running portion of that noun, and she'd arrive at what was being suggested. "I... I don't know what to say."
Walter shrugged, grinned, and then stood up – tossing several bills onto the table out of habit despite the fact that none of them had ordered a thing. "Say yes, Ms. Smoak." And then he left, leaving her alone with Oliver in a restaurant... because that had ended so well the last time.