Chapter 2

Saturday was a nightmare. She'd slept badly the night before, her dreams plagued by images of Oliver touching her in ways wholly inappropriate to their current relationship – whatever that was. And instead of being able to take a weekend away from him and clear her head, she was cooped up in the foundry trying desperately not to watch him, Diggle and Sara training together.

God was punishing her. Maybe for not making it home last Hanukkah or for that time she'd hacked her cousin's private Facebook messages and sent them to her parents so they could see exactly what their 'little angel' had been up to. Then again, maybe it was simply for clicking that link when she'd known better in the first place.

By 3:00 she'd had enough. Since she had the system set up to send alerts to her phone and tablet, she didn't see the point in sticking around just to watch the progress. There were other things she could be working on, of course, but Sara was right. She deserved a break.

"Where are you going?"

Turning to find Sara behind her, Felicity said, "Home. And maybe I'll do something non-Team Arrow related for a change. Like see a movie, or go to an art show, or visit that new café that just opened in City Centre that I've heard such great things about."

"If you want some company, I could do with a movie. Art shows aren't really my thing." Sara grabbed a towel and began drying off.

Felicity smiled. "Yeah. I mean I guess we never really do that, but I wish we did. I don't really have friends anymore. I used to – you know, before my life included things like hooded vigilantes and chasing the bad guys and hacking into federal databases. Maybe not best friends, but there were people I hung out with in the IT department before my promotion to Oliver's assistant/mistress."

Sara looked confused. "Mistress?"

"Come on – Oliver Queen, with his reputation, promotes a blonde from the IT department to be his right hand girl after he was seen visiting her frequently in her office the previous year? A few people thought something was going on before he became CEO, but now it's the whole company. Not that I really care. I mean I do, but in the end what they think doesn't affect my goals, and I know I'm smarter than all of them. The only part that really bothers me is that a few of my former co-workers think I've lost my mind abandoning my career path for the company playboy."

"And the others?"

"Think it's all part of my brilliant plan to fast track into the technology division of Applied Sciences," Felicity said as she pulled on her jacket and grabbed her bag and tablet. "But the fact that they think I'd do either one tells me that they never knew me very well."

"If only they knew the real reason you were hanging around Ollie all the time. You'd probably have your own little set of groupies – fan boys and fan girls alike panting after the Arrow's tech girl. Do any more reading last night?"

Felicity tensed at Sara's teasing question. "Your sense of humor is bent, Sara. Bent."

"Yeah. Not the only thing that's bent. I've learned to live with it." Her tone was matter of fact, as if that little tidbit weren't disturbing at all. "I'll come by your apartment at 6:00."

Sara headed towards the bathroom, and Felicity turned around just as Diggle and Oliver walked over, both still dripping with sweat from the intense workout they'd just completed. It sent Felicity's mind down a very dirty path because she actually had read another one of those stories after she got home. She knew it was wrong and she was probably going to seriously regret ever finding that fan site, but at this point she couldn't really seem to help herself. The stories were sexy and horrifying and fascinating and ridiculous and so far out of the realm of possibility as to be humorous, but they still made her toes curl.

And she'd only read one more. It wasn't like she'd made her way through the whole list. Yet.

"Are you leaving?" Oliver asked. "I thought we were going to go over the blueprints for the Hightower job."

For some reason his assumption that she had nothing better to do on a Saturday bothered her more than usual. "That's still at least a week away – maybe two. We have time, right? And you know, when I agreed to be your girl Wednesday I didn't realize it meant my personal life was going to go down the tubes. For you it's all good since you have an endless parade of women for the Oliver Queen photo op moments of your life, but some of us spend way too much time in this basement. And wow – I didn't mean for that to come out so passive aggressive and snarly, but I have a point, and I'm making it."

Breathe and count, she reminded herself, peeking up at Oliver to see what his reaction was to her unplanned rant. He looked taken aback and something else she couldn't put her finger on. Diggle seemed amused but covered it quickly by taking a long drink from the bottle of water he was holding.

"I have plans," Felicity finally continued. "Plans with another human being instead of with my computers. And I've officially called tomorrow as a stay-in-bed-until-noon day. It's possible I won't even get dressed."

When she noticed how Diggle's brows shot up at that last statement, she realized how it might be misconstrued. "Okay, that came out wrong. I meant… you know what? It doesn't matter, but I'll see you guys on Monday, bright and early and hopefully in a better mood."

She was halfway to the stairs before she felt Oliver's hand on her arm. It was the first time he'd touched her in weeks, and it sent an almost painful sense of awareness scorching through her. Without thinking she jerked back and away from him, stumbling a little in the process.

Looking concerned, Oliver asked, "Felicity, is something wrong?"

Deep breath. "No – sorry. You just startled me."

He didn't look like he believed her, but she was relieved when he apparently decided to let it go. "I have the Art Institute Gala tonight, but call me if you get a hit on Hightower's money trail."

"It can wait, though, can't it? It's not like you can do anything about it tonight. And I don't want to interrupt one of your dates again. That got uncomfortable the last time." Understatement, she thought, remembering the night she'd had to interrupt – in person, no less – his alone time with one of his arm candy brigade as Sara so mockingly called them. Actually, it was no wonder she liked Sara.

"It's not a date." Now Oliver looked a little uncomfortable.

She shrugged and pushed her glasses up. "Doesn't matter – unless someone is about to level the city again or kill a lot of people, I'm not tracking you down at some random woman's condo when you don't answer your phone. I don't even know how you explained how I found you the last time."

That had been months ago – eight, to be exact. Realizing she sounded snarky again, she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm a little tired and feeling cooped up and I guess I'm taking it out on you. I really just need a vacation; and barring a vacation, I need a weekend to decompress now and then when the world's not ending. So consider me off duty tonight and tomorrow, okay? See you Monday!" She reached out to pat his arm, thought better of it, and hurried up the stairs.

Sara tried not to smile as she watched Oliver grab a towel and run it roughly over his torso. He was frowning, and she didn't have to guess why. "I think it's good she's getting out for an evening."

Oliver was never overt in showing emotion except when it came to Felicity. And even then he tried to rein in the more telling ones like jealousy. Still, his hands tightened around the towel for a moment before he threw it on the table. "Felicity never really mentions any of her friends."

Because she doesn't have any, you idiot. Oliver had never been what one would call intuitive, especially when it came to women. But the fact that he couldn't see how hypocritical he was in holding onto Felicity with one hand while playing the field with the other was beginning to irritate Sara on the other woman's behalf.

Sara sat down and leaned back in her chair, her shrewd gaze assessing. "I don't think she has many friends, Ollie. But tonight she's seeing – what was his name?"

Oliver had been checking over his bow but looked up at that. "Who?"

"That last guy she dated – the cute one who teaches computer science classes at SCU."

"Eric." His jaw clenched a bit. "I thought she broke it off with him months ago."

"Actually, he broke up with her right after her hospital visit. Something about both of them being too busy," Diggle said. He was looking at Sara, a knowing expression on his face.

Oliver didn't comment further, but Sara could see the seed had been planted. By the time he left to get ready for the gala, he looked like he was in a thoroughly bad mood, and Sara spared a moment of sympathy for the woman who was going to have to put up with him tonight. It wasn't really the arm candy brigade's fault that Oliver Queen was an idiot when it came to his love life.

After Oliver was gone, Diggle glanced over at Sara and crossed his arms. "You know you're playing with fire here."

Sara stood up, pulled her cap on and grabbed her duffel bag. "Wouldn't be the first time."

By the following Friday, Felicity was ready to kill Oliver. He'd had her jumping all week, and he was in the kind of pissy mood usually reserved for missions gone south and board meetings from hell. And she couldn't even confront him about it because she was doing her best to stay out of his way altogether.

She had to stop looking at the website. She'd told herself that repeatedly all week even as she continued to read story after story of the Arrow's sexual escapades around Starling City. That there were so many woman fantasizing about anonymous sex with a vigilante who, for all they knew, had a questionable moral compass still struck her as weird, but there was no denying he had caused a frenzy in fan girl central.

Her head was filled with so many smutty images of vigilante Oliver that she did her best not to even look at him when he was wearing the leather anymore. She distracted herself as best she could at the foundry by listening to music or catching up on TV episodes on her tablet while waiting for information to come through.

At the moment Oliver was out at a business lunch, so the office was blessedly quiet and free of the tension that seemed to infuse their time together lately. She leaned back in her chair and put her headphones in, determined to relax before Oliver returned. They had the first part of the Hightower mission that night. Oliver would sneak into the office and leave the bug Felicity had designed, and they could hopefully gather the rest of the information they needed to turn over to the DA's office.

Felicity wasn't looking forward to it for the simple reason that she'd be listening to Oliver on the mission, and she'd probably start picturing him seducing her on rooftops the way she had nearly every night this week while he was patrolling. She'd also moved her desk and chair a bit so she didn't have to look at his arrow case – one of the stories had contained a very special trick arrow that had been used in extremely creative ways. Her ears, and other parts, still burned when she thought about it.


She jerked upright to see Moira Queen standing before her. "Oh, sorry. I didn't hear you come in." Probably because I was too busy imagining your son doing things that I should definitely not be thinking about. She raised her hands to her cheeks for a moment before clearing her throat. "Oliver's at a business lunch with the CFO."

"I know. And I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch," she replied, waving to the takeout on Felicity's desk. "I just wanted to make sure Oliver remembered to clear his schedule for next Wednesday afternoon."

Felicity adjusted her glasses and pulled up Oliver's calendar. "He didn't mention anything."

"We have a few potential investors flying in that afternoon, and I need him to be available. We both know how much he loves that kind of thing," Moira remarked drily.

She couldn't help smiling because it was true – afternoons schmoozing investors and board members ranked high on the list of things Oliver hated, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd attempted to get out of it. "It's on his schedule now. I'll remind him." She didn't quite make eye contact with the older woman, still feeling embarrassed about her interrupted fantasies.

"Thank you, Felicity. I'm glad that you're at least one more person he seems to listen to because I'm aware my son can be quite exasperating at times."

"Well, to be fair I usually subject him to non-stop nagging until it's easier to do whatever it is he's trying to avoid than it is to ignore me."

Moira smiled back at her. "Oliver doesn't seem to mind too much. He's often said that he credits you for helping him hold onto the company when he first got back. And he knows that despite the raise in pay, this job wasn't really a promotion for you."

"Oh." Felicity hadn't realized he ever talked about her to his mother. "I mean, that was Walter. I just did the research on Isabel and got the numbers together. Also, he's on notice that I will not be his executive assistant forever."

"I don't imagine you'll be easily replaced. Enjoy your lunch." Her heels clicked against the floor as she left the office.

That was weird, she thought. Moira was always nice to her, and she knew that Felicity and Oliver were friends before he took over the position of CEO, but she'd never directly commented on it before.

When Oliver returned, his mood was no better than it had been when he left and by the time they were able to leave the office, her relief was palpable. At least driving her car separately meant she didn't have to sit beside him and feel the heat radiating from him or smell the spicy, slightly woodsy scent of the aftershave he wore.

She kept her eyes on her monitors as Oliver finished suiting up. He had Sara to back him up so she wasn't really worried about anything going too wrong. That didn't keep her from going over the plan again and again in her head as she tried to head off any potential roadblocks.

Sara was ready now, and she and Oliver left with Diggle following behind in his car just in case they needed a third in a fight. She'd seen Sara fight though, and she was deadly – like fear and panic inducing deadly, and she thanked God that she wasn't another Helena. She had her issues and her problems, and she was as closed off as Oliver in her own way, but Felicity was slightly touched that the other woman had chosen to reach out to her. Felicity was awkward in social settings and always had been; but just like Oliver, Sara didn't seem to mind her rambling. It had been nice to have another woman to talk to about the crazy that had become her life.

The Hightower job went off without a hitch. Felicity began monitoring the bug and used the virus Oliver planted to gain access to their mainframe. Let the fishing expedition begin, she smirked, fingers flying over the keys. Diggle returned and then left again as she worked, and Sara was back a couple of hours after that.

Pulling off her wig and running her hand through her hair, she leaned against the corner of Felicity's desk. "Anything yet?"

"Some browsing history including a bank account we didn't know about," Felicity told her. "I'll know more over the weekend assuming this big meeting takes place. Where's Oliver?"

Sara began peeling her leather bodysuit off. "He wanted to give the east side one more run. Lot of gangbangers over there lately. Don't worry – he'll buzz you if he runs into trouble."

Nodding, Felicity got back to work, only peripherally aware of the noise Sara was making as she put away her weapons. When she noticed the other woman again, she had showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

Felicity stood up and stretched, wincing at the kinks in her neck and back. "Yell if anything pings. I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, she walked back to her desk to discover Sara gone and Oliver, still dressed as the vigilante, sitting at her desk looking at something on one of the screens.

"Hey. Did Sara leave?"

Oliver turned slowly to look at her, and his expression stopped her cold and made her belly clench.

"What is this?"

"What is what?" she asked slowly.

"Stories about… me. Since when does the Arrow have a fan site?"

No. No, no, no, no, and no. She raced to the monitor and squeaked when she saw one of the stories she'd been reading earlier in the week up on the screen alongside the fan site's homepage. And this one, Caught in the Act, was one of the more explicit ones involving the vigilante and a very grateful rescued woman being caught doing things she couldn't say out loud by a female police officer who then joined in.

Deadly assassin or not, she was going to kill Sara Lance the next time she saw her.

Pushing Oliver out of the way, she clicked furiously until the pages were gone, her hand trembling slightly. "I've been monitoring the fan site for a few months to make sure no revealing details were out there." Please, please, please ignore what you just saw.

Oliver shifted and then said, his tone incredulous, "And they write sex stories? How long have you been reading them?"

Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. "I just found them about a week ago. And it's not like I've read all of them. I mean, somebody has to read them and make sure there's nothing that could be used to identify you, right?" Did she really just say that? That was weaker than Oliver's energy drink story. "And I haven't imagined anything like this – who knew there were so many uses for alleys and rooftops and zip lines and…" her voice trailed off when Oliver stood up.

She expected him to walk away – he was good at that as he'd proven four months ago. What she didn't expect was for him to suddenly move into her space. Her eyes flew open, shocked, because he was way too close. Disturbingly, heart stoppingly, panty meltingly close. Was it possible to spontaneously combust from unresolved sexual tension?

If it was then maybe she was already dead since he was looking at her in a way that Oliver Queen never looked at Felicity Smoak. Gone was the angry, world class brooding he'd been doing all week and in its place was pure, raw physical desire. There was no mistaking it even if no one had ever looked at her that way in her life.

He still wore the leather and the grease paint around his eyes though his hood was down, and in the dim lighting of the foundry it was all too easy to imagine a different setting altogether. Her heart rate picked up, her breathing shallow, and she couldn't tear her eyes from his. It was like the last two years had been building to this moment. But when his hands found her hips and began gliding upwards, she moved back so fast she bumped the desk.

"I have to go," she blurted, shaking as she grabbed her bag and sped across the room. She was half afraid he would come after her, but she didn't look back and he didn't follow. She was still trembling slightly when she got to her apartment, and it took her four attempts to get her key into the lock. Locking the door behind her, she dropped her bag and keys on the nearby table and sank onto the sofa.

She didn't know how she would be able to go back to the foundry in the morning. And she really had to – there were no such things as sick days for heroes and their sidekicks unless stitches were involved. But if she'd thought things were uncomfortable before, she was probably in for the grandmother of awkward situations now.

You should have let him kiss you. She wasn't sure why she backed up so quickly when she realized what he was going to do. Kissing Oliver was something she'd imagined a lot, and she wasn't too proud to admit she still wanted it to happen. But there was a big difference between fantasy and reality, and living in her head was a lot safer than taking a risk on Oliver Queen.

Thirty minutes later she was still on the sofa when she heard a knock at her door. She opened her eyes – she didn't have to look to know who was standing out there because she knew that knock just like she knew so many other things about him. Felicity considered not answering the door, just ignoring it and going back to her bedroom, alone and safe. He had a key but she didn't think he'd use it in this particular situation.

"Felicity please - open the door."

She couldn't ignore that. So she stood and walked across the room, pulling the dead bolt back and unlocking the door on autopilot. And when she opened it, she didn't even give him time to say anything before she was pulling him in and kissing him the way she'd wanted to since before she'd known of his penchant for green.

Her arms wound tightly around his neck, and her fingers dug into his hair, still damp from his shower. This was not the kind of first kiss she'd imagined; it was hot and needy and urgent, and she felt her toes curling in response. In some distant part of her awareness, she heard the door slam and realized that Oliver had kicked it shut.

Then he was lifting her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around him. The insistent push of his hips between her legs caused her to moan and turn her head, panting. "Oliver…"

"Shh," he whispered.

Oliver's lips were against her neck now, and she shivered, throat too dry to speak. He was locking the door with one hand while the other was gripping her ponytail, pulling slightly. She realized what he wanted when the band holding her hair back loosened, and the blonde strands spilled across her shoulders.

They stared at each other, lips barely a breath apart. Oliver closed the tiny gap, kissing her slowly, and the scrape of his stubble against her cheek was so delicious she wondered what it would feel like in other places. That thought elicited another moan.

He cupped the back of her head in a soothing gesture and pressed tiny kisses against her neck before leaning his forehead against hers. "We should…"

"I don't want to talk." Her voice was shaky, and she took a shuddering breath. She kissed his jaw and then his neck, tightening her legs around him. Talking was something they'd probably have to do a lot of tomorrow, but right now she just wanted to feel.

They were moving again, and then they were in her bedroom. She stood on wobbly legs when he set her down, and they undressed each other in silence. The light from the living room spilled into the dark bedroom just enough to create a soft glow - just enough for her to see every imperfect inch of flesh revealed. Imperfect, but perfect for her.

Oliver walked her back to the bed and followed her down, careful to keep his full weight off of her. That first moment of skin against skin, hard against soft, almost overwhelmed her. She had to dig her nails into his arms to brace herself - tether herself to the moment before she floated away and realized this wasn't real after all.

But it was real. Oliver's lips on hers, against her neck, the wet suction of his mouth against her breast – all real. His hand following the curve of her hip down and between her legs – real. His fingers probed carefully, and she moved her thighs further apart as his lips found hers.

Then those perfect lips were gone, moving south again. It crossed her mind, briefly, that she should feel embarrassed about what was going to happen because she always had before. But she didn't, too turned on to feel anything but pleasure at the first swipe of his tongue against her sensitive flesh.

She came hard bare minutes later, a quivering mass of nerve endings. She felt him pull back followed by a tearing sound – the condom, probably. As he moved over her once more, pulling her legs up, she tensed a little in anticipation of that first, uncomfortable moment of penetration.

It didn't come; instead he brushed against her in little teasing movements, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was watching her, gauging each shudder as he rocked against her, giving her time to come down slowly. When she felt ready, she tilted her hips, allowing him to slide in halfway with the first thrust.

There was no distance between them at all. Oliver had one arm behind her head and the other bracing her hips as they moved against each other, every inch of their bodies pressing and sliding and creating friction. He kept the pace steady at first, his lips everywhere – her mouth, her cheek, her neck, the curve of her shoulder.

Gradually the pace changed, becoming more impatient as they neared completion. Her legs tightened about his waist, and she shuddered again and cried out when he suddenly pushed one leg higher, changing the angle of penetration just enough to send her over the edge within seconds.

Stars danced in her vision, and Felicity held onto him tighter, unable to stop the tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. His face was against her neck now, his own breathing harsh and uneven as his hips jerked against hers, and a low groan signaled his own release moments later.

Felicity sniffled, and he raised his head to look at her. "Hey. Are you okay?"

She opened her eyes when his fingertips brushed her damp temples, nodding but still not ready to speak. His lips pressed against her forehead for a moment before he pulled out and away, and Felicity curled onto her side. Oliver returned quickly and slid behind her, pulling her into his hard frame.

Her brain was beginning to catch up now. "I can't believe I slept with you before we ever went on a date."

"We've been on dates," he replied, his hand moving idly against her thigh.

"When? And if you say that's what we were doing after I got out of the hospital six months ago, I'm probably going to hit you with my pillow," she replied indignantly. "You never called it anything, Oliver. I was too afraid to ask, and then you just… stopped. No warning, no explanation."

He sighed. "I'm sorry." When she didn't reply, he moved until he was hovering above her again and there was no way to hide from him.


"I was worried," he finally said. "About hurting you, about exposure, about your connection to me making you a target."

"And it didn't occur to you that hitting the brakes like that might hurt me?" Honestly, he was so dense about so many things. "What's different now?"

"I can't turn it off anymore," he replied softly. "I don't even want to try."

"So it wasn't the Arrow porn on my computer?" she asked, a sudden hint of teasing in her tone, and she was pleased when he laughed. She wanted to make him laugh a lot more – he deserved that. "And for the record, I was not reading sex stories on the job. Sara must have opened the sites before she left, hoping you would find them."

"Really?" His tone was skeptical. "And how did she know about them?"

Felicity blushed. "Okay fine – I was reading them last weekend, and she caught me. Last Friday was the first night I found them."

"Last Friday," he mused, dropping his head to kiss her again. "That makes sense. And Saturday…"

He was frowning now, and she raised her hand to smooth his brow. "What's wrong?"

"Are you seeing him again?"


"Eric," he said shortly.

"I haven't seen Eric in months," Felicity reminded him, confused. "He broke up with me right after I got out of the hospital."

Oliver relaxed. "Sara strikes again. She told me that's who you were seeing last Saturday. And then you made the comments about staying in bed on Sunday."

"Oh. Oh – no. I was with Sara last Saturday. We saw a movie and had a late dinner." Suddenly this week made a lot more sense. "You were jealous? Is that why you were behaving like I broke your favorite bow all week? And to be fair, you're out with women all the time, Oliver – that stops now, by the way."

Oliver kissed her again. "I'm sorry. Maybe I didn't have the right to be jealous. And as for my dates, I haven't been with anyone in months."

Huh. "How many months?"

Kissing her temple, he answered quietly, "Six. Not since you were in the hospital."

"Oh." Something loosened inside her, a tiny knot of doubt she'd been trying to ignore.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him. Her head found the curve of his shoulder, one arm across his chest, and his hand drew gentle patterns against her back.

"Don't think I'm going to be this easy again," she said with a yawn. "You have to ask me out on a date – one where you ask nicely and I say yes, and then we make a plan and follow it, and I talk you to death until you decide to kiss me to shut me up."

"I think I can handle that," he said affectionately, squeezing her hip. A few moments later his breathing evened out, and she could tell he was asleep.

But Felicity lay awake for a while, basking in the warmth of his body and the afterglow. When a beeping sound drew her attention, she realized it was coming from the tablet on her bedside table. Careful not to wake Oliver, she reached for it.

A message box popped up from Sara.

Sara: So?

Felicity: I can't believe you did that. There is a serious talk about boundaries in our future.

Sara: You're welcome.

A/N: So apparently I'm incapable of writing simple smut lol – my poor little PWP one shot is a full blown universe now. Future installments include 'Five Times Oliver Crashed Felicity's Dates (and One Time She Crashed His)' which was requested by quisinart4 at FF, 'Sick Days' which will tell the story of how Felicity ended up in the hospital and how that affected Oliver, and 'Fives Times Oliver Took Felicity on a Date (and One Time It Was Real.)' These will all take place during the eight months before this story, except for the very last date story – that one is their first date following this story. I'm also toying with the idea of doing a 'Series of Firsts' either in this universe or just separately. We'll see what inspires me. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!