Work Text:
Today is one of those days where everything goes wrong.
At work there was one problem chasing the next and just as I was getting ready to leave for the foundry, my monitoring system informed me that all my algorithms crashed. Due to an out of memory error out of all things. As if I hadn't already spent an obscene amount of money on RAM sticks that only a billionaire wouldn't bat an eyelash at.
Then, when I walk into the foundry, I find that my keyboard picked today out of all days to die on me. This is definitely a day where I need my emergency stash of chocolate.
Except all I find when I open the respective drawer is one measly little piece left of my 300g bar that I placed their unopened only two days ago. So can anyone blame me when I shout, “Oh my god!”, so loud and desperately that John and Oliver come rushing over immediately?
“Felicity! What's wrong?”, John immediately questions as they both reach my desk.
I point morosely at the single left over piece. “Who ate all my chocolate?!” I'm definitely using my Loud Voice.
“I swear it wasn't me and Oliver never indulges in treats, so maybe it was Roy?” John ventures contemplatively, as if trying to solve a murder mystery.
But suddenly it isn't so much of a mystery anymore. I know exactly who happily indulged in some chocolate cake only a week ago.
My head whips around to stare at Oliver.
Oliver’s eyes are wide and he hurriedly exclaims, “I ran out of toothpaste and I read in a recent study that cocoa is more effective than fluoride! So it was a medical emergency!”
John and I look at each other in disbelief, sharing our well practiced How-Can-Someone-With-A-Secret-Identity-Lie-So-Badly look. I turn my head back to Oliver, “Yea, no, Mister, your cover stories haven't gotten any better.”
“Look, Felicity, I'm sorry.” He quickly digs out a 50 dollar note from his wallet. Holding it out for me, he says, “Here, buy yourself two new ones.”
I stare at the 50 dollar note incredulously. “Two? How much exactly do you think one bar of chocolate costs?”
“Uh, no idea.”
I look at John and we quickly share our well practiced Are-Billionaires-For-Real look.
“Seriously, Oliver, have you ever actually lived a normal live? You know anything in between silver spoons and coconuts?”
“So is 50 enough?”
I sigh exasperatedly. “It's way more than enough.”
Oliver brightens immediately. “Does that mean you'd be willing to pick me up a bar too?”
“So not happening. I might be your EA, but just like I'm not bringing you coffee, I'm not going to go shopping for you!”
I want to be mad at him. But it's difficult to stay mad at him when his stupid handsome face is grinning so openly for a change. I sigh and decide it might actually be funny to see Oliver in a supermarket.
“But if you want, you can tag along. We can make a mission out of it: can Oliver Queen handle a supermarket like the rest of us mere mortals?” I raise a challenging eyebrow at him and I can hear John snort in amusement.