though the truth may vary
Title: though the truth may vary
Fandom: Arrow
Category: Oliver/Felicity
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,830
Summary: "How long have you known?" Or, the other conversation that happens after they get back from Russia.
Spoilers: 2x06
Notes: It's been awhile. Many thanks to H for the beta! And happy birthday my dear lizook12!
xxx
Felicity is in the zone when Oliver gets back from patrolling. She's been working on a new system for mainlining all of the alerts from the various databases she monitors, and she's finally close to getting the last of the programming glitches figured out. Diggle is long gone, having slipped out to meet Lyla two hours before. The only reason Felicity (eventually) registered his departure is because he left her a note as was their custom when she was, as Diggle termed it, waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with her brain.
Although Oliver is not one for making a lot of noise, she usually at least hears the alarm when one of them enters or exits. Not tonight, however, as Oliver's return goes entirely unnoticed. Her mind is otherwise occupied with that one bug she can't quite code around, not yet at least, until Oliver changes out of his patrol gear and comes to stand behind her.
"Felicity!" He doesn't yell, but his voice is demanding, a little bit louder in volume and higher in register. It's his 'Felicity, come back to the real world' voice, as she likes to think of it. (Her mother has one of those too, although her mother's is usually punctuated by a dramatic sigh.)
"Oh!" she starts, spinning around in her chair. "Oliver, when did you get back?"
His lips curl up in a sly half smile. "Twenty minutes ago," he answers. "You were busy and I didn't want to interrupt."
"But you're okay with interrupting now?" She quirks an eyebrow in question.
"You were getting somewhere before," he says simply. "But it doesn't look like you are anymore."
He's right and she isn't getting anywhere, but it's more than a little disconcerting that he noticed so she adjusts her glasses and moves on without acknowledging it. "What do you need?"
"Slow night," he replies, and his expression morphs into one she's never seen before. She has grown accustomed to the many masks of Oliver Queen, but this is a new one, one she finds entirely unreadable. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, but I did want to talk to you about something."
"Okay," she breathes out, her brow furrowed.
"I don't really know how to say this," he begins and his expression shifts again, worry lines creasing his forehead. Whatever it is he wants to talk about, it has him visibly upset. "When we were in Russia, Isabel told me…" He pauses to clear his throat. It may not be babbling in her own true sense of the word, but Oliver is always far more direct than this. "Apparently everyone at Queen Consolidated… they think we're having an affair."
Felicity laughs at this, unable to contain herself, and suddenly it's Oliver's turn to look at her in confusion.
"Is there something funny about this?" he frowns.
"Yes!" She says, then winces when she realizes how that must sound. Unlike his usual half smile at her blunder, he is still frowning. "I mean, not that it would be funny if we were, you know… having an affair or whatever." Another wince, and she can feel the heat rushing to her face. "I mean, it's not what you think…"
She takes a deep breath, counting back from three silently instead of verbally because she doesn't trust her own voice to let her brain catch up. She counts back a second time for good measure and then, willing herself to sound calm and collected, finally says, "What I mean is… I know."
"You know?" He asks, his frown deepening.
She smiles in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture, although she isn't sure she's successful since she's fighting the urge to laugh again. "I know."
This is, without a doubt, already the most surreal conversation she has ever had with Oliver Queen, and she has not forgotten the laptop riddled with bullet holes and the supposed energy drink he handed to her in a syringe. Felicity hopes she didn't say that last bit out loud, but his expression hasn't changed so she thinks maybe this one time, she's safe.
"I know that everyone at QC thinks we're sleeping together," she says, slumping back in her chair and rotating her right shoulder once, trying to work the kink out of it.
"You know?" he repeats, shifting his weight awkwardly to one foot.
"I think we've established that fact." She grins, casually shrugging her shoulders. Usually he's a lot more imposing when he's standing over her like that, but he seems so completely taken aback by her revelation that he's lost some of his usual effect.
"How long…" he wonders aloud. "How long have you known?"
Felicity quirks an eyebrow incredulously and tilts her head up at him. "You're kidding me, right?" she asks, but when he doesn't answer she realizes that he is, in fact, not kidding. She lets out a long, low breath and rises from the chair, leaning back against the lip of the table. He's not going to like this, and the less he's towering over her when realizes that the better.
"Officially since about 24 hours after my so-called 'promotion'..." her hands form air quotes seemingly of their own volition. "Unofficially, the second the security guard handed me the key card for the executive elevator."
"What?" Oliver goes rigid, anger clearly written across his face and his growl more Hood than himself, but Felicity, having anticipated his reaction, holds her ground.
"Oh, don't get all grrr and broody on me," she exclaims, gesturing with her hands emphatically. Standing up just a little bit straighter, she adds, "It's not like the rumors were some big secret."
He considers this for a beat, and then suddenly he's Oliver again, his posture more relaxed and his expression softer. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She shrugs helplessly. "I thought you knew."
"I didn't."
She mouths an inaudible 'o' and then says simply, "Well, now you do."
He sighs, long and heavy. "I wish you had told me."
"What would you have done about it?" she counters. "The entire point of this whole thing was for people not to be asking questions about us being seen together. That's why suddenly I'm not there when people come to IT with computer problems, but I am there in the Executive lounge, supposedly getting you coffee. People talk. What did you honestly think they were going to say?"
Felicity leans back and her shoulders sag now that she's said her piece. She knows she sounds harsh, but there's a relief that comes with being able to get that off her chest.
Oliver has the good sense to look contrite. "I didn't think…"
"Of course you didn't," she says, trying to laugh it off. "You're a man. It's an entirely different, you know… thing for you."
"I hadn't really thought about that either."
"That much is obvious," she teases. "It could be worse," she adds quickly when she sees his expression falter for just a second. "My friends at QC know the truth. Well, not 'the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God,' but they know that we're friends… of a sort… and that you asked me to do this as a favor to you. You and Digg know the truth. Those are the people who matter, and everything else… well, it is what it is. Those are the people we don't want asking too many questions anyway."
"I'm sorry," he offers her his patented half-smile, flashes of his usual showy charm before it fades into something more genuine. "I do wish you had mentioned it to me. I don't know what we would have done, but I'm sure there was something."
Felicity shakes her head. "By the time the security guard handed me my new badge, it was already too late. But… next time it might be nice if you talked to me before you made a unilateral decision on the trajectory of my career."
There's twinge of sadness that settles when she thinks about her parents and how hard they worked - are still working - to help her pay for MIT, but she pushes it away. Dwelling on thoughts like those won't get her anywhere, and she has more important things to worry about at present.
"Next time I'll make you CEO," he offers, and she's fairly certain he is only half kidding.
"I don't care if you want to make me the next Queen of England," she admonishes, sending him a warning look, "next time you'll talk to me about it first."
He laughs at this, a rare full smile lighting up his face. "I promise." He pauses for a beat, and then, "Queen of England, huh?"
"I would be an excellent queen," she declares cheekily, still warmed by the rare sound of his laughter. "You could do a lot worse."
"Oh," he agrees easily, still chuckling, "I don't have to be told that."
"As long as that's clear," she says, turning back towards her computers and closing out everything she was working on. They may be laughing now, but it's late and their conversation sapped what was left of her energy. She powers down the last of her computers and turns back to Oliver, expecting him to have wandered off only to discover he hadn't moved.
"I'm not going to get anywhere further with this right now," she says, motioning back to her desk, "so I think I'm going to call it a night and head home. You should too," she adds, "Thea left the club about an hour ago and was headed in that direction."
He stares at her for a beat before breaking into another somewhat incredulous chuckle. And okay, she may have pinged his sister's cell phone, but given his mother's fast-approaching trial, she decided that it wasn't a bad idea to err on the side of caution where all of the Queens are concerned.
She gathers up her purse and folds her jacket over her arm before heading toward the back entrance. "Goodnight, Oliver," she calls out over her shoulder.
When she reaches the door, she turns back to him once more when he answers. "Goodnight," and then bowing his head slowly, he adds, "Your highness."
Shaking her head in fake exasperation, Felicity gives one final wave in his direction before slipping through the back door and out into the night. She feels lighter than she did only hours before, her body relieved of the tension of one more secret she hadn't even been aware she was carrying. Pushing through her own exhaustion, she forgets most of the specifics of their conversation by the time she makes it home.
(That is, until she finds a pink plastic tiara on her desk at Queen Consolidated three days later.)
xxx
Fandom: Arrow
Category: Oliver/Felicity
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,830
Summary: "How long have you known?" Or, the other conversation that happens after they get back from Russia.
Spoilers: 2x06
Notes: It's been awhile. Many thanks to H for the beta! And happy birthday my dear lizook12!
xxx
Felicity is in the zone when Oliver gets back from patrolling. She's been working on a new system for mainlining all of the alerts from the various databases she monitors, and she's finally close to getting the last of the programming glitches figured out. Diggle is long gone, having slipped out to meet Lyla two hours before. The only reason Felicity (eventually) registered his departure is because he left her a note as was their custom when she was, as Diggle termed it, waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with her brain.
Although Oliver is not one for making a lot of noise, she usually at least hears the alarm when one of them enters or exits. Not tonight, however, as Oliver's return goes entirely unnoticed. Her mind is otherwise occupied with that one bug she can't quite code around, not yet at least, until Oliver changes out of his patrol gear and comes to stand behind her.
"Felicity!" He doesn't yell, but his voice is demanding, a little bit louder in volume and higher in register. It's his 'Felicity, come back to the real world' voice, as she likes to think of it. (Her mother has one of those too, although her mother's is usually punctuated by a dramatic sigh.)
"Oh!" she starts, spinning around in her chair. "Oliver, when did you get back?"
His lips curl up in a sly half smile. "Twenty minutes ago," he answers. "You were busy and I didn't want to interrupt."
"But you're okay with interrupting now?" She quirks an eyebrow in question.
"You were getting somewhere before," he says simply. "But it doesn't look like you are anymore."
He's right and she isn't getting anywhere, but it's more than a little disconcerting that he noticed so she adjusts her glasses and moves on without acknowledging it. "What do you need?"
"Slow night," he replies, and his expression morphs into one she's never seen before. She has grown accustomed to the many masks of Oliver Queen, but this is a new one, one she finds entirely unreadable. "Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow, but I did want to talk to you about something."
"Okay," she breathes out, her brow furrowed.
"I don't really know how to say this," he begins and his expression shifts again, worry lines creasing his forehead. Whatever it is he wants to talk about, it has him visibly upset. "When we were in Russia, Isabel told me…" He pauses to clear his throat. It may not be babbling in her own true sense of the word, but Oliver is always far more direct than this. "Apparently everyone at Queen Consolidated… they think we're having an affair."
Felicity laughs at this, unable to contain herself, and suddenly it's Oliver's turn to look at her in confusion.
"Is there something funny about this?" he frowns.
"Yes!" She says, then winces when she realizes how that must sound. Unlike his usual half smile at her blunder, he is still frowning. "I mean, not that it would be funny if we were, you know… having an affair or whatever." Another wince, and she can feel the heat rushing to her face. "I mean, it's not what you think…"
She takes a deep breath, counting back from three silently instead of verbally because she doesn't trust her own voice to let her brain catch up. She counts back a second time for good measure and then, willing herself to sound calm and collected, finally says, "What I mean is… I know."
"You know?" He asks, his frown deepening.
She smiles in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture, although she isn't sure she's successful since she's fighting the urge to laugh again. "I know."
This is, without a doubt, already the most surreal conversation she has ever had with Oliver Queen, and she has not forgotten the laptop riddled with bullet holes and the supposed energy drink he handed to her in a syringe. Felicity hopes she didn't say that last bit out loud, but his expression hasn't changed so she thinks maybe this one time, she's safe.
"I know that everyone at QC thinks we're sleeping together," she says, slumping back in her chair and rotating her right shoulder once, trying to work the kink out of it.
"You know?" he repeats, shifting his weight awkwardly to one foot.
"I think we've established that fact." She grins, casually shrugging her shoulders. Usually he's a lot more imposing when he's standing over her like that, but he seems so completely taken aback by her revelation that he's lost some of his usual effect.
"How long…" he wonders aloud. "How long have you known?"
Felicity quirks an eyebrow incredulously and tilts her head up at him. "You're kidding me, right?" she asks, but when he doesn't answer she realizes that he is, in fact, not kidding. She lets out a long, low breath and rises from the chair, leaning back against the lip of the table. He's not going to like this, and the less he's towering over her when realizes that the better.
"Officially since about 24 hours after my so-called 'promotion'..." her hands form air quotes seemingly of their own volition. "Unofficially, the second the security guard handed me the key card for the executive elevator."
"What?" Oliver goes rigid, anger clearly written across his face and his growl more Hood than himself, but Felicity, having anticipated his reaction, holds her ground.
"Oh, don't get all grrr and broody on me," she exclaims, gesturing with her hands emphatically. Standing up just a little bit straighter, she adds, "It's not like the rumors were some big secret."
He considers this for a beat, and then suddenly he's Oliver again, his posture more relaxed and his expression softer. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She shrugs helplessly. "I thought you knew."
"I didn't."
She mouths an inaudible 'o' and then says simply, "Well, now you do."
He sighs, long and heavy. "I wish you had told me."
"What would you have done about it?" she counters. "The entire point of this whole thing was for people not to be asking questions about us being seen together. That's why suddenly I'm not there when people come to IT with computer problems, but I am there in the Executive lounge, supposedly getting you coffee. People talk. What did you honestly think they were going to say?"
Felicity leans back and her shoulders sag now that she's said her piece. She knows she sounds harsh, but there's a relief that comes with being able to get that off her chest.
Oliver has the good sense to look contrite. "I didn't think…"
"Of course you didn't," she says, trying to laugh it off. "You're a man. It's an entirely different, you know… thing for you."
"I hadn't really thought about that either."
"That much is obvious," she teases. "It could be worse," she adds quickly when she sees his expression falter for just a second. "My friends at QC know the truth. Well, not 'the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God,' but they know that we're friends… of a sort… and that you asked me to do this as a favor to you. You and Digg know the truth. Those are the people who matter, and everything else… well, it is what it is. Those are the people we don't want asking too many questions anyway."
"I'm sorry," he offers her his patented half-smile, flashes of his usual showy charm before it fades into something more genuine. "I do wish you had mentioned it to me. I don't know what we would have done, but I'm sure there was something."
Felicity shakes her head. "By the time the security guard handed me my new badge, it was already too late. But… next time it might be nice if you talked to me before you made a unilateral decision on the trajectory of my career."
There's twinge of sadness that settles when she thinks about her parents and how hard they worked - are still working - to help her pay for MIT, but she pushes it away. Dwelling on thoughts like those won't get her anywhere, and she has more important things to worry about at present.
"Next time I'll make you CEO," he offers, and she's fairly certain he is only half kidding.
"I don't care if you want to make me the next Queen of England," she admonishes, sending him a warning look, "next time you'll talk to me about it first."
He laughs at this, a rare full smile lighting up his face. "I promise." He pauses for a beat, and then, "Queen of England, huh?"
"I would be an excellent queen," she declares cheekily, still warmed by the rare sound of his laughter. "You could do a lot worse."
"Oh," he agrees easily, still chuckling, "I don't have to be told that."
"As long as that's clear," she says, turning back towards her computers and closing out everything she was working on. They may be laughing now, but it's late and their conversation sapped what was left of her energy. She powers down the last of her computers and turns back to Oliver, expecting him to have wandered off only to discover he hadn't moved.
"I'm not going to get anywhere further with this right now," she says, motioning back to her desk, "so I think I'm going to call it a night and head home. You should too," she adds, "Thea left the club about an hour ago and was headed in that direction."
He stares at her for a beat before breaking into another somewhat incredulous chuckle. And okay, she may have pinged his sister's cell phone, but given his mother's fast-approaching trial, she decided that it wasn't a bad idea to err on the side of caution where all of the Queens are concerned.
She gathers up her purse and folds her jacket over her arm before heading toward the back entrance. "Goodnight, Oliver," she calls out over her shoulder.
When she reaches the door, she turns back to him once more when he answers. "Goodnight," and then bowing his head slowly, he adds, "Your highness."
Shaking her head in fake exasperation, Felicity gives one final wave in his direction before slipping through the back door and out into the night. She feels lighter than she did only hours before, her body relieved of the tension of one more secret she hadn't even been aware she was carrying. Pushing through her own exhaustion, she forgets most of the specifics of their conversation by the time she makes it home.
(That is, until she finds a pink plastic tiara on her desk at Queen Consolidated three days later.)
xxx