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Felicity Smoak combed through the all the information about Tommy Merlyn she could get her electronic mitts on – security footage from Verdant and Merlyn Global, old news stories about his hard partying days with Oliver, even digitized newspaper articles about his mother’s murder. Nothing suggested that he was following in his father’s evil footsteps. In fact, he seemed to have become a pretty decent guy.
“Just your standard-issue gorgeous, charming billionaire,” she muttered.
“You rang?”
Felicity jumped in her chair. Oliver Queen and John Diggle were way too stealthy for her continued cardiovascular health. She’d considered rearranging her computer station so that she wouldn’t have her back to the basement’s entrance, but then she wouldn’t have as good a view of the training area and... well, she had her priorities.
“No,” she drawled, spinning to face him and gesturing to their surroundings. “You are not standard-issue. Nor are you charming. You’re abrasive, grumpy. Reluctantly civil on a good day.”
“Oh snap.” Digg grinned at her appreciatively from behind Oliver’s right shoulder. The tactical knowledge he’d been gradually teaching her told her that it was a flanking position. She wondered whether he even realized how protective of the younger man he’d become.
Oliver abandoned his nascent scowl and his eyebrows shot up his forehead as he half-turned to point in Digg’s direction.
“Aha. People do still say that.” His tone was oddly serious for a discussion about social niceties and current slang. “Thea lied to me.”
“I’ve heard that siblings do do that sometimes,” she told him, rolling her eyes at him fondly. “It’s called ‘teasing’. And Digg’s, well...”
“Digg’s what?” The beginnings of an offended expression appeared on John’s face. Felicity trod as carefully as she could.
“You’re... of a more... mature generation than Thea. Not necessarily up on the high school lingo.”
“You calling me old?” He turned to Oliver, who was now behind the low storage cabinets casually stripping out of his expensive suit in favor of workout gear. “She’s calling me old.”
Oliver held up both hands, refusing to be drawn into this new line of discussion when he and Digg were about to hit each other with sticks.
“I’m not old,” John insisted, turning back to Felicity.
“No no,” she agreed, “mature. It’s a good thing. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone called immature in a complimentary way. Not that Thea is...” She flailed her hands and pursed her lips helplessly. “I’m gonna shut up now.”
Oliver emerged into the main area, now barefoot with his cargo pants slung low on his hips, pulling a t-shirt over his head as he walked. He couldn’t quite suppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at her verbal struggles. John smiled back as he moved to take his turn behind the cabinets.
Taking a detour to Felicity’s workstation, Oliver leaned over her shoulder to murmur in her ear.
“I can be charming,” he assured her, apparently more defensive about her earlier comments than she’d realized. She bit her lip, eying him sidelong.
“Well, you used to be,” she conceded in a faux-haughty tone, “but you seem to have stopped trying since I found out about all this.” Felicity waved a hand, vaguely encompassing their collective vigilante-ing equipment. Oliver gathered her fingers in his own and brushed a chivalrous kiss against her knuckles. His eyes sparkled in the dim light from the screens.
“I’m very sorry,” he said. Despite her best intentions, Felicity’s pulse jumped under his concentrated attention, exactly the way it had when he’d just been the directionless, not-so-dead rich guy invading her office with strange questions at odd hours. She blinked and took a steadying breath.
“It’s okay,” she replied, reluctantly extracting her hand from his. “It’s actually a lot easier to find the information you need if I’m not trying to figure out why you want it at the same time.”
Oliver smirked at the memory of the lies he’d tried to put past her.
“You don’t believe in birthday presents and scavenger hunts?”
“Not the ones you were peddling, mister. Do we really need to go over the list again?”
He chuckled softly. Weeks after he’d revealed his secret to her, she still occasionally brought up the ridiculous stories he’d asked her to believe (or at least conveniently overlook) in order to get her help with the technical side of his vigilante quest.
“No.”
“Good.” Felicity returned her attention to her monitors and her hands to the keyboard. Oliver followed her gaze. His brow furrowed as he finally realized exactly which ‘gorgeous, charming billionaire’ had spurred their conversation in the first place.
“Why are you investigating Tommy?”
She glanced guiltily over at him.
“Just... due diligence. Keeping an eye on him.” She grimaced at the dispirited expression that washed across his face and turned her chair to face him. “We know his dad’s into something shady. Even if we don’t know what exactly, we know that the Triad is involved somehow, or is at least willing to kill Malcolm for someone else. I’m not saying Tommy’s necessarily involved in whatever that is, but he’s still maybe in danger because of it.”
Oliver sighed. Malcolm wasn’t the only one whose relationship put Tommy in danger. He nodded, accepting the truth of her words.
“Hey,” Felicity said, gently interrupting his spiraling remorse. “For the record, I’m glad I didn’t find anything. Tommy seems like a good guy. He's your best friend. He’ll come around eventually. And until then I’ll maintain some passive monitoring so that we’ll be the first to know if anything weird moseys his way.”
A tiny smile of gratitude tugged at the corner of Oliver’s mouth.
“Thank you.”
“Gotta look after our own, right?”
Her optimism and sincerity were contagious. His smile widened with affection.
“Right.”
Diggle walked up to them with a pair of escrima sticks in each hand. He got Oliver’s attention by whacking one set against the back of his leg while barking a playful, “Hey!”
Oliver twitched, startled but not actually hurt, and narrowed his eyes in challenge. John smirked at him.
“You two wanna keep flirting, or are we actually gonna train? ’Cause I could be spending time with Carly and AJ.”
Felicity blushed while Oliver snatched the proffered weapons from Diggle’s grip.
“We’re training,” he said, gesturing toward the mats. Digg turned on his heel and proceeded into the designated area. “We still need to work on your slow left hand.”
“Man, my left hand is just fine.”
“Oh yeah? Tell that to your ribcage.”
“Shut up.”
As the two settled into their usual warmup pattern, Felicity turned back to her computers once more. The steady rhythm of wood on wood made the perfect background for the syncopated clatter of keystrokes while she buried bits of code in Tommy Merlyn’s financial accounts. Whatever the future brought, she thought, they’d be ready.