be us against the world - t - olicity - part 1 [a]
title: we keep all our promises (be us against the world)
category: arrow
genre: drama/romance
chapter rating: pg-13/teen
overall rating: nc-17/explicit
inspiration: gif (source)
fic poster: dhfreak (tumblr)
word count: 7,315
summary: [au - no island] Oliver Queen has no idea what he's doing with his life, but when his father gives him an ultimatum, he has to figure it out. After meeting Felicity Smoak, he finds himself on a new path and his eyes are opened to what happiness really means and how finding it takes more courage than he ever thought he had.
dhfreak
we keep all our promises (be us against the world)
-novel-
I.
Oliver Queen met his future wife on a Wednesday.
"Hey, it's, uh, William, right?" he asked, flagging down a semi-familiar face as he walked through the floor his father's EA had informed him Robert was on.
With a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused lilt to his English accent, the man informed him, "Walter Steele. And what can I help you with, Oliver?"
"My dad. Connie said he was on this floor." He glanced around curiously. "Point me in the right direction?"
"Certainly. Last I saw him, he was speaking to the IT Director…" He pointed to a nearby hallway. "You'll likely find him down there. Straight to the end, large office, can't miss it."
"Great, thanks." He turned on his heel to leave, already board with his mission. His father had informed him, none too politely, that if had dropped out of yet another college he had better have a plan for his life, starting yesterday. Oliver did not have a plan for his life, but he did have a plan for distracting his father from forcing him to make that life plan. Just as he was walking down the hallway, however, he spotted a familiar face canted in his direction.
Heather… Something.
Shit.
Heather was the one-night-stand from hell.
Fine, she was the two-night-stand from hell since he hadn't learned his lesson the first time and he was a little too drunk to recognize her when they ran into each other at Club Onyx. She was clingy and desperate to prove they could make it work outside the bedroom. But Oliver was on a break from Laurel, one of many, and he was sure once she cooled down from their latest argument, he'd been back in her good graces and out of the beds of all the Heather's of the world. But that didn't help him right now and, well, he was a coward.
Later in life, he would credit that cowardice with saving him from a downward spiral he wasn't even aware he was in.
Just as Heather stepped into view and very clearly recognized him, he turned left, stepping into what appeared to be the coffee room. There was one person inside, a blonde woman wrinkling her nose at whatever she'd just dug out of the company fridge. She tossed what appeared to be an open yogurt away and dusted off her hands.
He pounced.
He grinned charmingly down at her. "Hi, you don't know me, but just go along with this, all right?"
She looked up at him in surprise and readjusted her glasses. "What?"
He ignored her question and waved a hand at her curiously. "What's your name?"
"Felicity… Smoak."
He repeated her first name to himself, twice, trying to get it to sound familiar, and then nodded. "Okay. We met over coffee, we've been seeing each other for… three weeks…? Yeah, that sounds about right. Three weeks, and I'm completely in love with you."
She blinked at him. "I… What?"
"Oliver!"
He looked up abruptly, smiling widely. "Hi…" His brow furrowed, feigning confusion.
Her smile waned as she pointed to herself. "Heather." She walked toward him, her hips swaying exaggeratedly.
A subtle snort beside him drew his and he found Felicity muffling her amusement, biting her lip. She had pretty lips, painted a bright pink.
Shaking his head of the distraction, he turned back to the woman in front of him. "Right, Heather." He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "I didn't know you worked here…"
"Oh." She waved a dismissive hand. "Not on this floor. I'm actually two down. But I needed help with my boss's computers and the grunts were happy to help, so…"
"I'm sure they appreciate being called grunts, too," Felicity muttered.
Heather's eyes cut toward her, an eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry. And you are?"
"This is Felicity," Oliver piped up, his arm wrapping around her waist, hand settling on her hip and pulling her tightly against his side. "My girlfriend."
Brows raised, Heather motioned between them. "You and her… you're together?"
With a disinterested sigh, Felicity wondered, "Who exactly is working on your boss's computer?"
"Mark Something," Heather replied, before cutting her eyes toward Oliver. "Exactly how long have you been together, Ollie? Because it doesn't feel like you were single so long ago…"
"A few weeks now." He hugged Felicity, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "Ran into each other in a coffee shop and I feel for her on sight."
Heather didn't look convinced and gave Felicity a look over. Oliver found himself doing the same. She was short, only reaching his shoulder, with square glasses, a red silk blouse and a dark black pencil skirt, the last two of which capitalized on her curves. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, long and wavy. She was pretty in that innocent, girl-next-door kind of way, which wasn't usually his type, but then, once upon a time, Tommy said anyone with breasts and a pulse was Oliver's type.
"Really?" Heather's lip curled. "How quaint."
"The quaintest," Felicity returned. "Shouldn't you be checking on that computer? I know Mark. He's good at his job. It's probably ready."
The dismissal was clear and Heather shot her an icy look before turning to Oliver. "When you get tired of playing house, you know where to find me." She winked before she walked out and, while Oliver knew she wasn't in his best interest, he did enjoy the view as she left.
A throat clearing drew his attention and he turned to his fake girlfriend, offering a boyish grin. "Thank you. Heather's a bit of a…" He trailed off, making a face.
"Just so we're clear, you ran up to the first woman you saw, forced her into pretending to be your girlfriend, and insulted a woman you definitely slept with because…" She shook her head, waving a hand. "You're a coward who can't just tell someone you're not interested in anything long term."
His eyes turned up in thought as he absorbed her words. "Yes…" he said, slowly. "But, in my defense-"
"In your defense, you're the son of my boss, so I probably shouldn't tell you that what you just did was sad and pathetic and as much as I don't appreciate a complete stranger looking down on me, I actually feel bad for that woman for ever wasting her time sleeping with you in the first place." Standing a little taller, her chin tilted up stubbornly, she added, "And just so you're aware, son of my boss or not, what you just did could have been seen as sexual harassment and put this company and your father's job at risk. So maybe the next time you have a little trouble in your personal life, you put on your big boy pants and face it."
Turning on her heel, she stalked toward the door, muttering under her breath about privileged men taking advantage and never owning up to things. He stared after her, his mouth agape and his brow furrowed.
A familiar chuckle caught his attention then and he watched his father step in front of the door, smiling down the hall at the irritated woman before he stepped into the coffee room, his hands tucked into his pockets. "I see you're charming my staff, Oliver…"
He sighed, rolling his eyes. "It was a misunderstanding."
"You know, I personally hired Miss Smoak. She was an outstanding student at MIT. Graduated early with honors. I had to fight Stellmoor International and Wayne Enterprises to get her hired here. Somehow I don't think when she agreed to work for me that she thought she'd be standing in as your fake girlfriend when one of your… previous bed partners tried to rekindle something."
He sighed, frowning. "It was a mistake. I'll apologize to her if you're worried about a lawsuit."
Robert shook his head, looking disappointed. "If you're going to apologize, it shouldn't be because I want you to, or because you're worried about how it'll reflect on my company. You should apologize because you just put her in a very awkward position. You took advantage of her confusion and possibly your position as my son, and that, Oliver… is something worth being sorry over."
Oliver stared at him, a pressure on his chest that he didn't like. While he'd never quite lived up to what his parents wanted him to and was very familiar with that look of disappointment, it never failed to make him feel like complete shit. "Okay…" he finally said, nodding. "I get it."
Robert nodded. "Now, you wanted to talk to me?"
Sighing, he stepped forward, nodding. "Can we go to your office?"
"Sure." He waved a hand telling him to follow and together they made their way back toward the elevator.
On the way, Oliver spotted Felicity across the room, talking to one of the other tech workers. She was smiling, her lips stretched wide, and he remember how he'd thought she was just pretty, a little above average. When she smiled, she was beautiful, and he found himself tipping his head, watching her a moment longer.
Feeling his gaze, she glanced over and caught his curious stare. She, however, frowned at him before walking out of sight.
That was new.
…
Oliver returned to the IT Department the following day.
He had a bouquet of the most attractive and expensive flowers the shop a block over was selling. With his most charming smile to back him, he made his way through the floor, searching out a familiar blonde.
He tried the coffee room first and then aimlessly searched cubicle to cubicle until he spotted her ponytail.
When he stepped up behind her, he found she was in the middle of eating her lunch.
"So, do I need to grovel, or can I do this standing up?" he said in greeting.
She jumped in her seat and whirled around, eyes wide as she found him standing there. A second later, however, her shock had disappeared and was replaced with resignation. "What? Did you run into Heather and tell her we had a fight and now you have to publically make it up to me?" she wondered, already looking exasperated with him.
"No… This has nothing to do with Heather. This is me apologizing for my behaviour yesterday." He held the flowers out to her. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you or forced you into pretending to be my girlfriend." He grinned flirtatiously. "Forgive me?"
She waved a hand up to brush the flowers aside and stared up at him, brow raised. "Why exactly are you apologizing?"
He paused. That was not how this usually went. He glanced away and then tried, "Like I said, I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."
"You shouldn't have lied."
He frowned. "To who? To Heather?" He shook his head. "Trust me, you don't know her, she's… clingy."
Arms crossed over her chest, she asked, "How well do you know her?"
He smirked, tipping his head at her. "Intimately."
Felicity rolled her eyes and stood from her chair. "Just because you have sex with someone, doesn't mean you know them," she said, quietly enough that no one overheard her. "What happens behind closed doors is your business. But by bringing it to work and putting me in the position you did, you made it my business. And what you did, creating a fake girlfriend so you didn't have to tell her you weren't interested in being with her outside of a one-night stand, probably took a lot more effort, and created a lot more drama than necessary."
He sighed, shoulders slumping and flowers falling to his side. "You're not going to accept my apology, are you?"
"When you know why you're apologizing," she told him, her eyebrows hiked, "then I'll accept your apology."
"Fine, I was a coward. I should've just talked to Heather. She's a human-being and I shouldn't have treated her that way. Or you." He waved a hand in the air in a 'blah blah blah' motion. "Now. Flowers?"
Hands on her hips, Felicity let out a heavy sigh, not unlike the kind his mother used when he was being obnoxious. "Please go away… before I lose my job for insulting the boss's son."
His jaw ticked and he started to feel his hackles raise. "I don't know why you're getting so bent out of shape. You don't even know Heather, and she wasn't exactly nice to you."
"Well, maybe part of that was a defense mechanism since she'd been hoping you might see her as something more than a one-night stand and you rubbed a new relationship in her face," she bit back.
His mouth fell open but no argument came to him.
With a huff, she turned her back on him and retook her seat, dismissing him completely.
Muttering under his breath, Oliver turned on his heel and walked away, dropping her flowers in a waste basket as he went. He took the elevator down to the main floor and decided no, noon wasn't too early to get a drink. He needed one after that fiasco.
Oliver spent three days trying to figure out why Felicity Smoak disliked him so much. People loved him. Women especially loved him. And it wasn't as if he'd insulted her specifically. He'd picked her to be his girlfriend, who he was madly in love with. That should be a compliment! She should feel proud that she garnered that much attention.
When he told Tommy about it, they were sitting in a strip bar. It was no dive, specifically catering to men of wealth and pushing the confidentiality clause to keep business flowing. There was a pretty red-head that called herself, the all too clichéd, Candi doing a dance for them, smiling as Tommy waved a wad of cash at her and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"She completely shut me down. Twice," Oliver complained.
"I don't know why you're getting so upset about this. She did what you wanted her to. She scared off Heather." He shrugged. "So what if your dad told you she deserved an apology? You tried and she rejected it. Not your fault." He leaned back in his chair and glanced at him. "Even if she tries for a harassment suit, your dad's lawyers will shut it down fast."
He shook his head. "No, she won't. I think she was just making a point."
"What kind of point?"
"I don't know. That my behaviour could've been seen differently by someone else." He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She told me she wouldn't accept my apology until I knew what I was apologizing for."
Tommy laughed. "That is some real live girlfriend bull right there."
Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"You went in for a fake girlfriend and you got a real girlfriend lecture." He shook his head, amused. "Only you, my friend."
Rolling his eyes, Oliver turned his attention back to the show in front of him.
Whatever. Who cared if Felicity Smoak liked him or not? He'd probably never see her again.
Raisa's birthday was on Saturday and he was making a last minute trip to a bookstore he knew of that carried one of her favorite authors. Now some might say that Oliver buying a very specific gift for one of the staff members that worked for his family was out of character for him, but that was only if they didn't know Raisa. She had practically raised him, his go-to for comfort when he scraped his knees and the motherly force that often tried to set him on the right path in life with a few words of wisdom. Simply put, he adored her, and he knew that the only gift she would truly appreciate was something he put thought into. So he went browsing through the Russian section for a book she didn't yet own, which was a hard thing to find considering her sprawling collection of books in her mother tongue. It also didn't help that what little Russian he did now was what she'd taught him over the year, and it was probably nothing he should say in polite company.
He'd just found the book he was looking for when he heard muttering and looked over to see a familiar blonde browsing the shelves. It was the ponytail and the oversized MIT sweatshirt that gave her away. He was walking toward her before his brain could tell him there were probably plenty of blonde women who went to MIT.
She had three books in her arms and a finger tracing the spice of a fourth, her teeth pressed into her bottom lip when he reached her.
"Hi."
She looked over abruptly, her brows hiked a little, and then frowned. "Uh, hi…" She glanced around uncertainly.
"I'm not following you," he blurted out, suddenly feeling defensive.
"Which is exactly what someone would say if they were following me…"
His lips twitched. Shaking his head, he asked, "Look, can we start over?" He held a hand out. "I'm Oliver Queen, it's nice to meet you."
She glanced at his hand and, after a moment's pause, reached out to shake it. "Felicity Smoak."
Her hand was small compared to his, dainty, with bright purple fingernails and a silver ring on her thumb.
"Would you… Do you want to get a cup of coffee with me?" he wondered.
She stared up at him. "I don't know. Apparently the last time we were in a coffee shop together, you fell madly in love with me."
Her voice was filled with mirth and he ducked his head as he laughed, scratching a finger at his temple.
"Never know, could've been a prophecy of sorts," he told her, raising an eyebrow.
She let out a faint sigh and looked away. "Listen, it's nice of you to try so hard to apologize or… whatever it is you're doing. But, you really don't have to." She shrugged, hugging an arm around her books. "I've thought about it and, it's your life. Who you choose to be with, how you choose to be, that's all up to you. You don't need a complete stranger telling you that your choices are questionable. So I rescind my previous statement. You are forgiven." She waved a hand. "Forgiven you are."
He blinked. "Did you just Yoda me?"
She smiled, her cheeks flushed, and shook her head. "It was nice meeting you, Oliver." With that, she turned on her heel to walk away, only to pause, return, reach past him for the book she'd been admiring, wave it at him awkwardly, and then rush off to the front desk to pay for them.
He watched her go, all the while thinking she was completely unexpected, and he didn't know why he liked it so much.
[Continue.]