Work Text:
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It all started with an email...a PERSONAL email...
Hey Caitie,
So, what did I do last night, you asked? I had the distinct privilege of working until 11:45 pm correcting the idiocy of my fellow IT gremlins. They work in IT, Caitlin! Information Technology! Yet some IGNORAMUS not only clicked on the spyware link he was called to remove from the CEO's COMPUTER, but then he scurried his happy ass out the door and left the mess for ME to clean up! UGH!!!
And why, you may ask, did the CEO of our illustrious and respectable corporation have spyware on his computer? Because I work for Oliver FRACKING Queen, that's why! I don't work for the shrewd and intelligent Robert Queen, who was CEO when I accepted this position with the promise of advancement and a fast-track to the Applied Sciences division. I don't work for the eminently respectable and honorable Walter Steele, who asked for my patience while he delicately found a way to break the contract of my incompetent sexist supervisor. I work for Oliver 'I peed on a cop' Queen! He spent five years on a deserted island, Caitlin! He didn't get his BBA from Coconut University!
Okay, yes, I know I need to breathe. I need to give the CEO playboy extraordinaire the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he DIDN'T catch his spyware from porn browsing during company hours and on the company computer. Maybe it was an honest mistake. Maybe someone used his computer without authorization. But NONE of that excuses the email I received from HR this morning reminding me that as I'm a salary employee, I will not be receiving any extra compensation for the countless overtime hours I put in correcting other employee's mistakes. Believe it or not, I WAS WELL AWARE! I am so tempted right now to replace every data file in this building with recordings of porcupine flatulence! THAT is what I think of Oliver Queen! HE is porcupine flatulence! He is a FAILING FAILER WHO FAILS!
But, in answer to the question in your earlier email, no, I did not get to catch up on Doctor Who last night. I had to work...for FREE!
XOXO,
Felicity
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Her morning break, a chocolate chip muffin, a mint-chip latte, and Felicity finally felt human again. She sighed in relief and tilted her face back into the sunshine. She'd vented her ire to Caitlin, though she doubted she'd even bother sending that email. It wasn't like her to bash her job. Most days Felicity liked her job. Sure, she didn't get nearly enough credit or nearly enough pay, but she had faith that her hard work would be rewarded. She'd invested too much time and energy and heart to walk away from Queen Consolidated now. Giving herself another mental pep talk, Felicity headed back for the office. She had work to do.
“Ms. Thomas called about the file while you were gone,” Ted Sanders, or Chet, called as Felicity walked past him. Ted was her unofficial assistant. Technically he received almost the same pay she did...which was why she called him Chet. He and every other incompetent in the department being paid the same or more than her for far inferior work were called Chet. It was her small private rebellion.
Felicity nodded. “I'll handle it.”
“I already did,” Chet smiled. “I printed the file directly to the CEO.”
Felicity froze. She turned to look at him. She fought the urge to grind her teeth. “You did what?”
Chet frowned. “I printed the file to Mr. Queen's printer.”
She took in a deep breath and blew it out trying to keep her temper. “It was supposed to be sent directly to the Finance Department, Chet!”
His mouth dropped open. “Oh...sorry?”
Shaking her head, Felicity spun on her heel and headed into her office. She slid into her chair and settled her fingers on her keyboard. Within seconds she was pulling up the printer history. She was reaching to reprint the file to the correct location when something registered...something wrong...
She frowned harder. This wasn't the right file. She double clicked to pull it up and see what the incompetent Chet had sent off to Mr. Queen. Then she gaped...she gasped...she felt hot, then cold, then SICK...Great Google...Oh Dumbledore...Holy Frack...NO NO NO!!!
She must have made some awful sound, some choked hysterical pained noise, because Chet came running. She pointed at the screen...she pointed and pointed and...she thought her brain had melted...
Chet scrambled around the desk and quickly read over the file, the email, the horrible ranting bash against her boss and her job. Chet made a pained noise of his own. Then he started to apologize, muttering “I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry” under his breath. He tried to lean around her as if to delete the evidence.
Felicity batted his hand away and pointed her finger at him threateningly. Then she spun back to face the front and pulled up another file. She started typing.
Chet frowned confused. “What are you doing?”
Felicity laughed hysterically and shrugged. “I'm updating my resume. I'm going to need it.”
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Oliver Queen had received a lot of criticism in his life. He'd even admit that he deserved the lion's share of it. He'd been an ass, a careless, thoughtless, arrogant, selfish, entitled ass. He'd like to believe that he'd grown since his younger years, that his five years away had at least burnt away the foolish boy he'd once been. He knew, however, that he would never outgrow the 'peeing on a cop' thing. He was never living it down. It was that insult, among the various littering the email, that stung the most.
Pushing that thought aside, Oliver leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm just wondering,” he grumbled to the man sitting opposite him, “exactly how a self-proclaimed invaluable IT employee accidentally sent THIS to my printer.”
“Well yes,” Walter Steele frowned and looked up from the copy of the infamous email, “this was clearly a mistake.”
Oliver lifted his brows at the understatement.
“But nothing so very insurmountable,” Walter continued. “This was obviously a personal email, Oliver.” He eyed the Queen heir carefully. “You shouldn't take it so...”
“Personally?” Oliver finished. Then he smirked and looked at Walter. “You know who she is, don't you? I knew you would.” Which was exactly why he'd called his former stepfather there. As former CEO, having only stepped down a few months before, Walter knew much more about the current employees of QC than Oliver did. He had to know who this angry ranting harpy was.
Walter returned his look. “You don't already know?”
Oliver's mouth drew into a hard line. “Felicity Smoak...the only Felicity currently employed by our IT Department.” He considered the older man. “I wondered if you knew of any reason I shouldn't immediately terminate Ms. Smoak for disrespect and sheer idiocy.”
Walter made a face. “Because she's correct?”
“Hey!” Oliver stared at Walter offended.
“No,” Walter shook his head, “no, not about you, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Oliver grumbled, not entirely appeased.
“But Ms. Smoak is highly overqualified for her current position,” Walter said. “She was personally recruited out of MIT by your father. Her lack of advancement by this point must be understandably frustrating.” He sighed. “Her direct superior is verging on incompetence, relies almost entirely on her carrying his workload, and feels threatened by her superior skill and intelligence.”
Oliver winced. “So she's been overlooked...”
“Because of the constant upheaval the company has experienced over the last few years,” Walter said.
Oliver nodded. “So our competitors...”
“Would have a field day at the opportunity to steal her out from under you.”
Oliver ran his hands over his face. “Fabulous. That's just fabulous.”
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As the elevator doors opened and Oliver stepped out into the IT Department, he noticed a fidgety looking young man standing beside a cubicle. The stranger, who looked exactly like someone Oliver would expect to work in the IT Department, jerked and immediately turned toward Oliver and started waving his hands frantically before him. “I'm so sorry! It's my fault!”
Oliver lifted a brow and eyed the man. “I'm looking for Felicity Smoak.”
“PLEASE!” He begged. “It was a mistake! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean it!”
Now Oliver was confused. “You're Felicity Smoak?”
The man seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he jerked his head up and down. “Yes, yes I am. And I am throwing myself on your mercy!” He took a step toward Oliver. “I will beg! I will get down on my knees and beg! Please don't fire Felicity Smoak!”
“CHET,” an irate female voice called from behind a cubicle, “would you shut up? You're ruining my concentration.”
The stranger, Chet apparently, looked toward the cubicle before turning back to Oliver. “You can't fire her! It's my fault! I did it!”
Oliver shook his head and rubbed his hand over his forehead. The situation just kept getting more and more bizarre. “Your name is Chet?”
The stranger winced. “Technically I'm Ted Sanders...” he looked back toward the cubicle, “but I'm also Chet B. It's a long story. Please don't fire anyone! She didn't send it. I did! It's my fault!”
“CHET, SHUT UP!” The female voice, who Oliver was assuming at this point was the illusive Felicity Smoak, growled and became more demanding. “You've already buried me. Don't get yourself fired as a bonus!”
Chet, Ted, whatever his name was, clasped his hands together and held them out to Oliver imploringly. “Please!”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “No one is getting fired. Where is Felicity Smoak?”
Chet slumped in relief. He leaned back against the side of the cubicle and hooked his finger toward the open doorway. “She's in there. Can I leave now?”
“Yes,” Oliver told him, “go take a break or something.”
He nodded jerkily. “Or something...something being alcohol or a Xanax.” He rushed past Oliver and toward the elevators.
Oliver took in a deep breath and readied himself to face the angry ranting harpy. He walked forward, turned, and looked into the cubicle. Then he blinked. Felicity Smoak was...she was cute. She had blonde hair pulled back into a perky high ponytail, cute little glasses, was wearing a light pink top, and a pencil skirt. Her forehead was scrunched together as she examined the typing on her monitor, she had a red pen clasped tightly between her teeth, and her lips were a bright vivid pink. The woman was very very cute. Oliver couldn't help it. He smiled. “Felicity Smoak?”
She gasped, the pen dropped out of her mouth, and she looked to the side. Her expression was half defensive/half horrified. She pursed her lips and glared at him. “I'm just updating my resume. I have an interview set up with S.T.A.R. Labs and I'll be out of your hair shortly. I'd really appreciate it if you allowed me to work out a two-week-notice. I need the money.”
Oliver chuckled and shook his head. He held out his hand to her. “I'm Oliver Queen. I wondered if you'd have time to discuss your possible advancement in the company. It appears you are currently grossly overqualified for your position.”
Her mouth gaped. “You're serious?”
He smiled and nodded. “I'm serious.”
“But...” she frowned confused, “I...I basically called you an underqualified fart, who may or may not have infected his company computer with spyware due to his unsavory porn habits.”
Oliver couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness that was his day. “Who peed on a cop,” he reminded her.
She whimpered and buried her face in her hands. “I'm so sorry! I was venting! I wasn't even going to send the damn email!”
“Well,” Oliver conceded, “the last was actually public record.” He wanted to be mad at her, but he just couldn't. She was adorable and clearly mortified.
“But I don't judge people I don't know!” Felicity told him. “You've never done anything to me. I don't know you. I had no right to type those things about you. I should be reprimanded! I should be fired!” She told him.
“You were frustrated,” Oliver said understandingly. “You weren't really angry at me.”
“I wasn't!” Felicity insisted. “It was that damn Margaret from HR! She gets on my last nerve!”
“And you never meant for anyone to see what you had written,” Oliver continued.
“I didn't!” Felicity said. “I SO SO TOTALLY DIDN'T!”
Oliver shrugged and smiled again. “Then let's forget about it. No harm, no foul. I've heard far worse things about myself in the past. Your email was practically tame.”
The blonde still looked miserable...and adorable. Oliver was convinced at this point that the woman was incapable of not looking adorable. She pouted. “I deserve to be punished!”
Oliver cocked a brow. “Well, I'm planning to promote you to head of our IT Department and I'm not firing Chet, which means you will continue to work with him on a daily basis. Consider that punishment enough.”
Felicity snorted. “You've only met Chet B. If I'm heading this department I have to supervise the entire alphabet of idiots. I'm gonna need a raise...and medication.”
Oliver nodded again. “How about we discuss your promotion and that raise over dinner?”
Now she was gaping at him again. Felicity made a choked laughing sound. “You...you're kidding, right?”
“If you'd be willing to share the evening with a notorious failer who got his BBA from Coconut University,” Oliver teased.
She squeezed her eyes shut and winced again. “I'm just gonna sit here and wait for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.”
Oliver laughed. He caught himself in wonder as he considered exactly how long it had been since he'd laughed this much. It made him even more determined to get to know this woman. Walter, as usual, was correct. Felicity Smoak was remarkable. “Come on, Ms. Smoak, let's put this whole thing behind us. I think we'll be working together a lot more in the future.” He leaned toward her slightly and his eyes twinkled. “Let me take you to dinner.”
The blonde gulped and looked up at him dumbstruck. “I'm in so much trouble here, aren't I?”
Oliver wiggled his brows. “I guess we'll find out.”
Felicity sighed and nodded her acceptance of his offer. Her lips quirked up into a hesitant smile. “I blame Chet.”
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