Work Text:
“Just go. Come on, Oliver, just move your legs,” he muttered to himself.
He was being stupid. He had been standing around the corner from the glass door to Walter’s office at Queen Consolidated for five minutes already, trying to mentally prepare himself for walking into that room, when he knew that his step-father had his secretary and two members of the board in there with him. Oliver knew it wasn’t a hard thing to do - walk into the office, politely ask if he could speak to Walter alone, ignoring any stares or glares sent his way. But due to his current mindset, it wasn’t that simple.
Only a week or so ago, the Queen family had announced to the public that Oliver had a service dog. It hadn’t been necessary to release the statement until after the archer had gone to court so that he could officially be declared as alive again and have his trust fund, bank accounts, driving licence and other important legal matters sorted. Hunter had, of course, stayed at Oliver’s side the entire time - which was the reason why the statement had been imperative after that day.
The backlash that the Queen family had received in response to them revealing Oliver’s service dog had been less than ideal, but after some harsh words by his mother and the QC legal department to the local media, the public had backed down and accepted it. PTSD was certainly becoming more widely recognised and understood, and whilst the predicament Oliver had found himself facing with the press had been taxing and emotionally exhausting on his part, it massively helped traumatic stress awareness campaigns throughout the city, as well as promoting the importance of service dogs.
Speaking of service dogs, Hunter was simply standing next his master, pressing his side into Oliver’s leg’s comfortingly as the archer tried to stop working himself into a state. Hunter had led the way up the office with confidence, trotting only a few steps ahead of the archer, and seemingly not fazed at all by all the strange glances and stares aimed at him.
Oliver, however, had been more affected - due to his improved hearing, he could hear the quiet gossip and whispers being exchanged between the QC employees as he made his way through the lobby and up to the executive floor. On the outside, Oliver had remained calm, collected and self-assured, squaring his shoulders and striding purposefully, occasionally flashing a fake grin if required; internally, he’d been thrashing and screaming, anxiety clawing at his insides as the gazes and stares cut into him like razors. He hated being watched, and he hated crowds. After so long on Lian Yu, and working above and below the streets in Hong Kong and Russia, he wasn’t used to massive throngs of people surrounding him anymore.
Hunter’s quiet rumble startled the archer out of his musings. Oliver glanced down at the dog, and the Husky-Shepherd mix just tilted his a little sideways up at him. The archer just knew that the dog was umimpressed by the fact that they’d been standing in the middle of a corridor for nearly ten minutes now, because he couldn’t work up the courage to walk into an office.
“There are other people in there with him, okay?” Oliver snapped defensively.
Hunter huffed, as if to say really? That’s what you’re going with?
“Hey, you’re my service dog,” Oliver scowled. “You’re meant to be supportive here.”
Yes, he was nervous. And it was fine for him to admit that. Although, part of the reason for his nervousness was the fact that there was a bullet-ridden laptop he’d stolen from a deadly assassin in his bag. He was meant to be asking Walter where he could find some tech support, but Oliver already knew who he had to go to - he’d vetted everybody in the IT department, knowing that soon, he’d have to bring a tech expert into his Hood operation. The vigilante just wasn’t proficient enough with technology after his five years away, and he needed programs set up and somebody to hack into the SCPD and FBI for him when he needed information. He’d found the perfect candidate - but a tiny niggling part of his brain wanted Walter’s approval before he made a proper assessment.
Hunter seemed to have had enough of his hesitance. Arching his head and nipping gently at Oliver’s hand, he started forwards, pulling his leash out of Oliver’s slack hand and padded around the corner towards Walter’s office, completely ignoring Oliver’s hiss to get back to his side.
“Hunter!” Oliver whispered urgently, instantly shrinking into himself when he was forced to rush out after the dog. He could feel people’s eyes drilling into his back. “Get back here!”
Hunter had paused to wait for Oliver to catch up, but as soon as Oliver tried to reach for his leash, the service dog huffed and walked forwards to Walter’s office. Before the archer could stop him, Hunter batted the glass door to the office with his paw. It made a grating, awful noise that made Oliver wince, and his nerves quickly overtook him when the people within the office itself looked over at them.
Well, there was no point bolting now. Awkwardly opening the door, Oliver avoided all the gazes of the other people, fixing his eyes onto Walter and using his stepfather to ground himself as he asked quietly, “Sorry to interrupt. I can come back if you want.”
“No, no, Oliver,” Walter reassured, standing and adjusting his suit jacket in a dismissive gesture to the members of the board and his secretary. “We were just finishing up. Please, come in.”
The archer waited just to the side of the doorway, head angled downwards as the others vacated the room. As soon as they turned the corner, Oliver’s shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension draining out of him as soon as the strangers were gone. Hunter nudged the back of his knee to encourage him inside. Oliver had become more familiar with Walter over the last week or so - the man didn’t seem to have any weighted expectations like his mother and Thea did, and generally seemed very supportive of the younger man. He wasn’t offended by Oliver’s initial cold attitude towards him, understanding that the archer needed space after his return in order to adjust.
Stepping inside, Oliver didn’t take a seat in front of Walter’s desk and instead stood just behind it, Hunter surveying the room quietly before sitting on his haunches beside him. “I hope I didn’t intrude…”
“Of course not,” Walter replied kindly. “You’re always welcome here, Oliver.” Which was nice to know. Whilst Moira had expressed anger after Oliver had aggressively got across to her that he didn’t want to take up a job at QC, Walter had been nothing but sympathetic. “What can I do for you?”
“I was, uh, wondering if I could get some help with my cell phone,” he lied easily. “Technology has changed a lot over the last few years. I need to get a laptop as well.”
Walter nodded. “I know the perfect person. Felicity Smoak, she works in IT. Easily the best with technology in the entire building.” He grabbed a notepad to note down the office number, whilst Oliver allowed a small smirk to grace his lips.
He’d been right. Felicity Smoak had been his perfect candidate. He had been shocked to recognise her face from when he had been in Starling with ARGUS; she was the girl who had babbled adorably and called him cute. The fact that Walter had recommended her meant that he’d made the correct selection.
The note was passed over. He glanced down at the office number briefly before glancing back at his step-father, murmuring, “Thank you.”
“Any time,” Walter responded. His concern was evident as he questioned carefully, “How are you dealing with the media at the moment?”
Oliver ducked his head, swallowing. He could lie, it would be easy; he was a phenomenal liar. But it would be pretty obvious that he wasn’t telling the truth. Hunter nuzzled the back of his knees comfortingly, triggering the archer to admit softly, “Not that well. I’ve kind of been avoiding going out where the paparazzi could ambush me.” He glanced down at Hunter, correctly quietly, “Ambush us.”
“It’ll die down, Oliver,” Walter reassured, smiling gently. “They’ll move on soon.”
“I hope so,” he murmured. “Thank you, Walter.” He nodded in farewell and, making a hand movement to summon his service dog to his side before taking his leave from the office.
Quickly navigating his way down to the IT department, Oliver checked the office number once again before looking down at Hunter. The service dog was once again sitting by his side, looking up at him, his right ear twitching as he huffed. Rolling his eyes at the dog, the archer gently knocked on the door of the cubicle and half entered the room.
The blonde IT girl had her back to him, going through some paperwork on the counter opposite her monitor set-up. She was humming quietly to herself, not noticing the intrude, which made Oliver’s lips quirk upwards. Crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned on the doorframe, Oliver cleared his throat loudly. Immediately, Felicity startled, almost falling out of her chair as she whipped it around, inhaling sharply. There was a beat of silence before the archer brushed down his jeans and stepped forwards to introduce himself.
“Felicity Smoak?” he questioned. “Um, hi. I’m… Oliver Queen.”
Felicity nodded hurriedly, the red pen that was in her mouth jerking upwards before she yanked it out, tapping the end of it on the desk. “Of course,” she replied. “I know who you are, you're Mr. Queen.”
Oliver ducked his head with a small smile before glancing back up at her, correcting, “Oliver, please. Mr. Queen was my father.”
“Right, but he's dead.” Felicity’s eyes flew open wide as soon as she opened her mouth, and she continued on in a rush, obviously trying to make amends for what she just said, but in fact just making it worse. “I mean, he drowned. But you didn't, which means you could come down to the I.T. department and listen to me babble. Which will end. In 3... 2... 1 - oh!”
The blonde had made a surprised sound due to the fact that Hunter had broken from Oliver’s side, pulling his leash out of the archer’s hand again, padding forwards with his tail wagging and tongue lolling out of his mouth, and jumped straight up onto her lap. Hunter’s paws rested on her thighs and Felicity’s hands instantly darted upwards to thread her fingers through his thick scruff, scratching him. Oliver looked on, shocked, as Hunter’s head arched back in pleasure. Hunter had never been distracted from his service duties before. Sure, he was bound to sometimes get distracted, that didn’t mean he was a bad service dog. It was still unexpected.
“Hunter,” Oliver called softly. The dog didn’t move from Felicity, a deep purring rumbling sort of noise erupting from his throat as the blonde scratched under his chin. Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh.”
Felicity seemed to realise what she was doing and jolted in her seat, gently pushing the service dog down and standing so he couldn’t jump up onto her again, beginning to apologise, “I’m so sorry, Mr Queen, he’s a service dog, I probably shouldn’t be stroking him or anything. Just - when he jumped onto me -”
Oliver chuckled. It burst out of him without warning, and he found himself telling her fondly, “It’s fine. Usually he’s not so easily distracted, but I guess he’s a sucker for chin scratches.” The service dog began batting at Felicity’s leg, mashing his face against her thigh as he whined, trying to get her to pay attention to him again. “Hunter, leave Felicity alone,” he said warningly, giving him the hand gesture to return to his side.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Felicity said sheepishly, as the service dog brushed past her to return to Oliver’s side with his tail drooping and an unimpressed attitude. “I love dogs.”
Oliver smiled. “You might, but he’s meant to be on duty,” he reminded her. Once Hunter was seated at his side once more, calm and collected as a service dog was meant to be, he turned back to Felcity. Pausing for a moment, the archer restarted awkwardly, “Uh, I'm having some trouble with my computer and they told me that you were the person to come and see.”
Realisation flew over Felicity’s face, and she pushed herself in her wheely chair back in front of her monitor set up. “Right. Of course. You need technical assistance. Would have been unrealistic if Oliver Queen just randomly decided to come down to my office to grace me with his handsome presence and let me pet his dog.” The last sentence was muttered quietly, but Oliver still heard it, and it made him belt out a laugh. Felicity blushed in horror. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I have no brain to mouth filter whatsoever. Please don’t fire me.”
“It’s fine,” he shook his head, trying to school his expression into a mask but finding himself unable to will away the honest, genuine smile that broke through. He pulled out the laptop from his bag with two hands, approaching her so he could hand it over.
Felicity looked like she was the one who had been shot, and not Floyd Lawton’s laptop. “Oh my god. What the hell did you do to this thing? Put it through a meat grinder?”
Saying the first excuse that came into his head, Oliver blurted out, “I was at my coffee shop surfing the web and I spilt a latte on it.” He immediately winced. It was awful. He tried to avoid Felicity’s gaze after that, embarrassed that he could get so bemuddled and mess up so badly, but he found himself attempting to gauge her reaction.
Which was unimpressed. And disbelieving. But also, she looked incredibly amused. “Really?” she asked dryly.
Licking his lips, he offered, “Yeah.” Even to him, it sounded more like a question.
Felicity examined the laptop, turning it over in her hands as she continued, deadpan, “'Cause these look like bullet holes.”
“My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood.” His eyes slammed shut for a few seconds. God, could his lying get any worse? He hurried onwards, hoping she’d ignore that last sentence: “If there is anything that you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it.”
“Mm-hmm.” Luckily, Felicity still looked amused. “Take a seat. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” he smiled, drawing the chair out and settling down into it. Hunter stood and stretched out, yawning widely that tapered off into a gnashing of his teeth, after which he slipped forwards until he was seated between Felicity and Oliver equally, obviously wanting to put his head on the IT girl’s lap but also wanting to stay near his master.
“Really, I should be thanking you,” Felicity hummed, her fingers beginning to fluidly connect wires and cables to the laptop, linking it to her own set-up. “This is probably going to be the highlight of my week, the IT department doesn’t exactly live for thrills and excitement. Yesterday, I had to reinstall an executive’s email software. They somehow managed to delete permanently installed, fool-proof, untouchable to those not in IT, software. It took me five hours to get it up and running again.”
Oliver kept his face straight as he said, “It was my step-father, wasn’t it?”
“Pfff,” Felicity laughed nervously. “Nooo…” A beat passed. She swallowed. “Yes.”
“My entire family is useless with technology,” Oliver told her. “I was away from civilisation for five years, and I’m probably still more up to date with tech than my mother is.”
“What kind of phone does she have?”
“Some kind of Samsung.”
She shrugged. “Could be worse.”
“She got that last week,” Oliver said. “Before that, she had a Nokia. And not one of those smartphone Nokias.”
“Oliver, you’re in the IT department,” Felicity sighed. “Are you deliberately saying these sort of things to make me cry? What kind of phone do you have?”
“Thea hooked me up.” He fished it out of his pocket, unlocking it and showing her the screen.
“Ah. iPhone 4S. Well, at least somebody in your family has sense. It’s not the best smartphone out there, but it’s good. Do you understand how to use it yet? It can take a while to get used to a smartphone.” Before she knew it, and Oliver could stop him, Hunter was once again placing his head on her lap. “Aw. I would stroke you, buddy, but your human needs something done because he got his laptop all mysterious shot up with bullets.”
Ignoring the last part of her sentence, Oliver raised an eyebrow and repeated, “‘Your human’?”
“Humans are suckers for dogs,” Felicity informed him, not even glancing over. Her eyes were fixed on the screen as she frowned at it, her fingers dancing across her keyboard. “If you’re under the impression that you own him, then you’re wrong. He totally adopted you as his pet human project. His name’s Hunter?”
“Yep,” Oliver answered, leaning back into his chair and crossing his ankles. They sat for a minute in companionable silence whilst Felicity worked. Finally, Oliver worked up the courage to ask what he’d been wondering about for a while: “Felicity, why aren’t you asking about why I have Hunter?”
She looked thrown for a moment. “Uh. Why would I?”
“Because the entirety of Starling City seems to be curious about how and why Oliver Queen got a service dog, but you don’t seem perplexed at all.”
“Why would I be?” Felicity questioned. “Do you want me to ask you personal, intrusive questions about your PTSD and why that constitutes to you needing a service dog?”
“... No.”
“Then why would I ask?” She shook her head. “It’s rude. I thought you and your family were being incredibly generous to give back to the prodding enquiries of the press that statement about you having post traumatic stress.”
He was amazed. “So you don’t want to know…”
“Oliver,” she switched her gaze over to him, and her blue eyes shone with intensity. “Don’t feel pressured into telling people personal things because they claim their entitled to know. Often than not… they aren’t. They have no right to know your personal business, and you don’t have to tell them anything.” Her eyes flickered back to her screen. “And that is why I did not ask why you have Hunter. I mean, if you want to go into depth about why you have him, then go ahead. But don’t feel like you have to.”
The archer took a moment to consider that. Then, tilting his head sideways, Oliver observed with a smile, “You’re different?”
“Good different or bad different?” she teased.
“Definitely good different,” he assured. “I doubt Hunter would like you so much if you were bad different.”
Felicity beamed at him happily. “Do you want to swing your chair around here? I think I’ve got something.” Swiftly scooting his chair around to her side of the desk, Oliver gently urged Hunter out of the way so he could sit next to Felicity. The service dog looked a little annoyed at being taken away from his new favourite person. Pointing at the screen, Felicity informed him, “It looks like blueprints.”
“Do you know what of?” Oliver tried to cue her.
“The exchange building.”
“Never heard of it.”
Felicity glanced at him. “It's where the Unidac industry's auction is scheduled to take place.” When no recognition appeared on the archer’s face, Felicity raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said that was your laptop.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
Felicity wheeled her chair around to look at him face on, sighing as she crossed her arms loosely across her chest. “Look, I don't want to get in the middle of some Shakespearian family drama thing.”
Oliver stared back at her, confused. “... What?”
“Mr. Steele marrying your mom?” Felicity prompted. When Oliver looked even more bemused, she tried, “Claudius, Gertrude... Hamlet?”
“I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools that I dropped out of.”
Felicity looked offended by that. She explained slowly, “Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries. And you've got a company laptop associated with one of the guys he's competing against.”
Oliver nodded. “Floyd Lawton.”
“No. Warren Patel,” Felicity corrected, pausing, before asking, “Who's Floyd Lawton?”
Oliver was lost for words. “He is an employee of Mr. Patel, evidently,” he responded lamely.
“... right,” Felicity looked unconvinced.
Rising to his feet, the archer managed a tight smile at the IT girl before saying graciously, “Thank you for your help, Felicity. I appreciate the fact that you took time to assist a guy as useless with tech as I am.”
“You’re welcome,” she nodded. “Although I have no clue what just happened and what you just made me look into.” Hunter slipped out from under Oliver’s chair and nuzzled her palms again, which made her grin widen. “Very nice to meet you, Hunter, and your human.”
“You know, I’m beginning to think my dog likes you more than he does me,” Oliver said, smiling.
“Of course he does,” Felicity replied.
Oliver carefully placed the laptop back into his bag, whilst watching the blonde interact with his service dog adorably, scratching under Hunter’s chin once again. Hunter’s tail was wagging faster than the archer had ever seen it wag, and he looked utterly delighted at the attention he was recieving - not just because it was attention, but because it was attention specifically from Felicity. Oliver cleared his throat, and Hunter gave a deep low whine, obviously not wanting to leave.
“Come on, buddy, we’ve got stuff to do.”
Hunter whined. He didn’t want to leave.
“You could just leave him here with me,” Felicity suggested, mirth shining in her eyes.
“Yeah, he wishes,” Oliver laughed. “Unfortunately, he has got a job to do. Hunter?”
The service dog’s ears went flat against his head but he huffed in agreement, although he did sound a little grumpy.
“Bye, Hunter,” Felicity whispered, giving his head one last stroke before letting him go off back to his master. “Bye, Oliver. Feel free to come back anytime if you need some more technical assistance - however weird your request is.”
“Thank you,” he said one last time, flashing a smile.
They took their leave, Hunter following the archer out of the office, although looking a little bit dejected. Oliver stopped half way through his stride when he got half way towards the elevator. He frowned. Glancing down at his service dog, Hunter gazed back up at him steadily. Felicity had been honest; she’d been light, and amusing, and funny, and kind. She’d been completely and utterly different compared to everybody else since he had come back, treating him like he was… an actual person. She hadn’t tiptoed around him like his family, or salivated over him like the media and other QC employees.
And most importantly, she’d been nice to Hunter. And Hunter liked her. The service dog was an excellent judge of character. If he trusted Felicity, then Oliver did.
Turning on his heel, Oliver made his decision and marched back towards Felicity’s office. Hunter followed him, confused about why they were retracing their steps. This time, upon entering, he didn’t bother knocking - Felicity was already facing his way, and she looked up at him, frowning in puzzlement.
“Oliver?”
“Felicity,” he said. “Do you want to… I don’t know, go out for coffee sometime?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes,” he nodded, swallowing.
“... And you’re asking me because -”
“Because I want to,” he cut in.
“You want to go for coffee with me?”
“Yes.”
Felicity narrowed her eyes at him, staring for a moment, before she jerked her head in a nod and smiled warmly at him. “Okay.”
Hope flared within the archer. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.” She grabbed a post-it note and wrote something down on it quickly in her red pen, before holding it out. “My cell number.” Oliver reached out to take the note, but then Hunter leapt forwards and snatched it out of Felicity’s hand, circling behind his master with a smug expression. “Well,” Felicity smirked. “Looks like at least one of you is eager to go out on a date with me.” Her eyes widened. “Not that - not that I was implying that this was a date. It’s a coffee date, between friends. Unless - unless you’re actually asking me out on -”
“Let’s start with a coffee date,” Oliver interrupted. He wasn’t ready to get into a relationship - and anybody getting onto one with him would be put in terrible danger. If criminals found out that the vigilante had a girlfriend, she would become a target.
“Sure,” Felicity grinned.
He added teasingly, “If you need incentive, Hunter will be there for you to fuss over, and I’ll pay.”
“Oh, well, if Hunter’s going to be there…” she replied back jokingly, before she settled back in her seat. “Oliver, I’d love to go out for coffee with you. Give me a call anytime to arrange a date and location.”
“Don’t you need my number?”
“What makes you think I haven’t already got it?” she winked.
He laughed. Hunter whined, wiggling his entire body. “Have a nice day, Felicity.”
“You too,” she replied brightly.
Oliver and Hunter left the office, the archer feeling elated, like he was floating on a cloud. The service dog padded along beside him happily as they exited the building. For once, Oliver wasn’t bothered by the stares and glares of the QC employees around him. There was a strange feeling spreading through his chest, that if he had to guess, resembled some form of joy.
He shook himself, forcing his mind to focus. For now, he had a mission to focus on. The exhange building - if there were extensive blueprints on that laptop of that building, Oliver would have bet his entire trust fund that was where Lawton’s next hit was going to be. He had to prepare.
Going to Felicity had gained him insight into Lawton’s plan so he could take the assassin down. The fact that he was going to be able to set up a coffee date with the IT girl was just a wonderful, added plus.