Chapter Text
Thea Queen is pit of quicksand.
That sounds like quip taken from a rag mag. Normally, you'd find vicious headlines about Thea Queen next to the Tic-Tacs and last minute I’m not buying that- s at the conveyor belt of your local grocery store. Instead,here it’s used as a loving and alarmingly fitting metaphor that Felicity Smoak has spent a long time crafting.
Thea is a real shock to those who have never met her. Just imagine walking along a beach only to be stuck in the grasp of a liquidy, yet solid, substance that you assumed would be just like the rest of the beach. That is how Felicity felt when she first met the young heiress.
The momentous first encounter, long before any analogies to natural disasters, was at a cafe. Felicity recognized Thea immediately, something that she isn’t comfortable admitting to her friend, no matter how close they became. Recognition is more than just placing a face with a name in this instance. Thea's face had been printed on glossy magazines, looking perfectly made up and precise, but was also been plastered on the impulse buy "magazines", with running mascara and smudged lipstick. The public had seen a number of different versions of the heiress. Perhaps that’s why Felicity was quick to identify her face in the crowded Jitters cafe that morning.
While waiting patiently in line with the rest of the pre-coffee zombies, Felicity was staring purposely to her left, avoiding the sharp beam of light reflecting off the shop’s metallic counter. As a somewhat firm guideline, Felicity liked to avoid any migraine inducing activity before her first cup of coffee for the day. She would have loved nothing more than to make that a strict rule, but Google knows it has been, and will be, broken every once in awhile- especially if idiots text her with "work emergencies" at 4:10 in the morning.
The direction of Felicity’s gaze was important, not because it led to a crick in the neck, but because Thea Queen sat casually at the little bistro table where Felicity’s gaze was currently drawn. People watching can be a nice hobby in the spring while sitting on a bench during your lunch break, but this was a small cafe. And this particular morning, all the patrons of Jitters took their coffees to go. That left Thea to be the only one occupying the many tables littering the shop. There's a difference between casually watching a crowd in a public setting and staring at an individual while they're just trying to live their lives. People watching =/= person watching.
Felicity watched the young woman as casually as she could without staring intently. Even though Felicity was watching Thea less for the, “watch a celebrity do normal stuff, just like us!”, and more as a way to pass time, she didn’t want to be caught by anyone who might think she was starstruck and obsessed.
In her Casual Gaze™ Felicity noticed that Thea’s eyes were surveying the floor near the line of people waiting to hear a botched version of their name read off a cup. At first, Felicity followed the path Thea’s eyes took, thinking that maybe the heiress saw a rodent or bug. After a quick check herself, logic kicked in and reminded her that Thea Queen would most likely be gone if she saw a critter.
Felicity, brainstorming for reasons why anyone would want to stare at the feet of coffee lovers early in the morning, came up with something that finally clicked. Thea’s own feet were propped up on the bar under the seat across from her. As a shoe connoisseur herself, Felicity noticed that Thea’s boots were probably more expensive than her own entire outfit- even if the cashier were to accidentally ring up the dress six times.
Felicity’s mind worked in the same way it did in geometry class when writing proofs.
- Thea Queen is a trendy woman.
- Trendy women like fashion.
- Fashion includes, but is not limited to clothes.
- People wear clothes.
- Looking at clothes on people can be misconstrued as checking people out.
- Looking at shoes is inconspicuous.
∴ Thea is checking out people’s shoes.
Felicity wondered if perhaps Thea was just rating each pair of shoes, or if she were using the footwear to decipher something about the person donning them. Back in her lowly IT stooge days, Felicity would play a version of that game herself. Felicity is on the smaller side, but not short, because short is used for children under 12 that annoy you, and men breaking you out of a cell dressed in a stormtrooper uniform. But being small means that you are eclipsed by desks, chairs, and the odd cardboard box of spare parts when you’re fixing wires on the floor. If there’s anything a stuffed suit hates, it’s waiting. Time is money. So when they are looking for an IT member to help them no doubt turn off a computer and turn it on again to solve any myriad of problems they most likely have, they want that advice to be given immediately. From her spot on the floor, Felicity would be able to guess straight away if the wearer would shout a greeting or get nasty immediately when they couldn’t spot her.
While thinking somewhat fondly of her old pastimes, Felicity didn’t notice Thea’s surveying eyes come closer and closer to her own black flats with kitties on them.
A louder than usual shout for Adam’s large raspberry green tea and a much much lower grumble of, "It’s Autumn," caught Felicity’s attention, turning her head right back into the miserably blinding reflection once more. Felicity turned her head and gaze to the left again in time to notice the scrunched up eyebrows of Thea Queen who was most definitely staring at her feet.
It had been a long time since Felicity felt this self conscious. She could feel herself blushing with embarrassment at Thea Queen’s less than pleasant assessment with her shoes. But why? Rationally, Felicity knew that Thea’s opinion meant nothing. Felicity actually adored these shoes. And taste is entirely subjective. And really, what were the odds that she would ever see Thea Queen again? Or that if she did see her, she would remember her shoes. Or that her shoes were so terribly atrocious that Thea would mention them in a conversation with the rest of Starling’s elite. And it’s not like Thea would one day go to a fashion show in Milan and turn to Jean-Paul Gaultier and say, “I once saw this woman in ridiculously puerile kitten flats.” Nor would he respond, “Quelle folie! Let’s look at real fashion to bleach our eyes of such a disaster.” And even if that were to happen, it doesn’t matter because she will never see Thea Queen again and will never be privy to any conversations she might have. Plus, how sad for them that they have amazing lives and they could be enjoying it and instead they are wasting their breath on a woman whose name they didn’t even know.
“Felicity’s Triple Shot Cappuccino!”
So much for not knowing her name. The one time a barista gets it right is the one time she would like to stay incognito.
Felicity navigated her way to the counter to grab her drink, avoiding the huffs of people annoyed that their own beverages weren't completed yet. She made her way to the milk and sugar table with her head down, trying to tell herself that her name being taken down correctly meant that today was going to be a good day.
She was too focused on popping her lid off and locating the cinnamon shaker that she didn’t notice Thea Queen make her way to the station as well, casually flipping her cup in the bin.
“I’m more of a nutmeg girl, myself,” Thea said. Her chin jutting out in the direction of the cup.
Felicity surprised herself by not jumping at the unexpected human contact. Specifically this human. This pretty-tall-French designer on speed dial- human.
“Allergic to nuts actually.” Not that nutmeg is a tree nut. It's actually a seed. But Felicity always felt nervous to eat something that had 'nut' in the name. And no need to explain her neuroses to a stranger. She gave Thea as much of a smile as she could muster. Was Thea trying to compile more information to joke with Jean-Paul about? She’d seen Mean Girls.
“Naomi how can she be allergic to nuts when you would HAVE to be nuts to wear those shoes in public?” And then Kate Moss would come with a flute of champagne and tell them all that Iman arrived.
A quick look out of the corner of her eyes let Felicity know that Thea was still there, standing with her hip to the counter, staring at Felicity with a genuine looking smile.
“What about chocolate scrapings?” It seemed that they were now in Heathers lunchtime poll territory. And Felicity was trying to remember other high school bullying movies.
“I once saw a kid licking the top of the chocolate shaker and I have not been able to pick one up again since.” Thea’s face scrunched up not entirely unlike how she looked at Felicity’s shoes. “I realize that he probably licked the cinnamon too, but since I didn’t catch him do it, I feel like I’m safe.”
Thea let out a little chuckle. “I could’ve used you about twenty minutes ago before I suffocated my coffee in nutmeg and chocolate.”
“To be fair, it was at a Starbucks. And Jill is like super diligent about cleaning here. So you won’t have to worry about the cooties.”
Felicity was answering as politely as she could, trying hard to pop the lid back on without adding a lovely coffee stain to her coat. She wanted to evacuate before the inevitable, “Have fun in preschool,” joke could come out. Or something like that. Cut Felicity some slack. She was never on the giving end of a well executed burn about clothes.
Just as Felicity went to grab some napkins, the dreaded words came out of Thea’s mouth. “Your shoes…”
Felicity paused, hand on the dispenser as if when she stopped moving everything would stop. The words would die on Thea’s lips and her ego would remain intact.
“Match my bag,” Thea continued.
Thea pulled the red strap off her arm and pushed the red bag forward.
Sure enough the red cat’s face on the top of the purse matched the two kitties on her feet in black.
“It seems Fred and George have a big brother.” Felicity said while wiggling her toes beneath the covering. She stopped doing it almost immediately once she realized what came out of her mouth. She spent the majority of their interaction prepared for a criticism of her shoes and now that she got a compliment? Maybe? Sorta? Matching a famous heiress is kind of saying they have a similar style and by the commutative property if Thea is trendy and wears the same catware as her then she’s trendy too? But now that she avoided being made fun of, here she went and told Thea Queen that she named her fake shoe cats after Harry Potter characters. It’s like she held up a sign that said, “Give me noogies and push me in a locker.” No matter how widely accepted the wizarding world was, it could still be seen as creeping itself into cringe territory to name her shoes.
The blush was back. Of course it was.
But beyond the ringing in her ears from mortification, she heard Thea’s voice.
“Arthur Weasley has some explaining to do if Reginald is Fred and George’s brother.” She was petting her purse as if it were a real cat propped up on the counter.
She grabbed "Reginald" and with a smile threw out a, “See you later, Felicity,” and waved over her shoulder. Leaving just as smoothly as she arrived. But instead of an embarrassed Felicity Smoak abandoned in Thea's wake, she left a bewildered and somewhat impressed Felicity instead. Maybe Thea Queen wasn’t filled with Cruel Intentions.
Sure enough Felicity did see Thea the next morning. And just like the previous day she popped over with a smile and a compliment. That’s all it really took to capture Felicity Smoak in the Thea Queen quicksand vat. An unexpected step that sunk her.
Now there she was. Three years later and best friends with a woman she was worried was going to bully her about her clothes. That’s not to say Thea wasn’t a bully. It’s just that these days she hid her bullying behind the guise of a best friend wanting “what’s best” for Felicity.
With a sigh, Felicity rubbed her temples, listening to Thea complain about the same thing she has all week.
“I just find it offensive that you didn’t tell me you were open to dating your friends’ brothers. I would have offered Ollie up AGES before Melissa’s stupid brother Greg. It’s like I wasn’t even considered. And that hurts me as a friend.”
If only Felicity had a stick to pull herself out of the sand trap. Or a literal stick to beat her best friend with.
