A/N: I've taken on a new fic and it should be fairly long. I have the whole plot outlined, and I'm several chapters ahead of where I'm posting. I have some great ideas for this. For now, its going to follow canon pretty strictly. Which means that one night stand(s) or not, the events of the first part of season one will remain unchanged in large part. Things will start shifting in the back half of season one, however, when Felicity joins the team. And I have some great ideas how the events of the beginning of the story will ultimate effect how the rest of the season plays out. Come along with me on this ride!

It was just another Wednesday afternoon and Felicity Smoak was hard at work in her little corner of the IT department in Queen Consolidated. She'd been at this job since her graduation from MIT, a little over three years now. She'd started off as a regular intern but now she had her very own desk and caseload and she loved her job. Loved it.

The way she saw it, her job was unraveling mysteries. She hated mysteries; she couldn't rest until she solved them. As such, she didn't mind the long hours she put in at her 15th floor cubicle. Felicity didn't have much of a social life anyhow. All her friends from college were still on the east coast and everyone she'd known growing up was down in Vegas and she hadn't really kept in touch with any of them anyhow.

She was cranking through her to-do pile, a pen in her mouth as she considered her next project when the sound of a throat being cleared caused her to swivel around in her chair. "Felicity Smoak?" Her mouth fell open as she yanked the pen out, her eyes going wide. There, right before her desk, stood none other than Oliver Queen.

Yes, Queen. As in Queen Consolidated. His family owned the whole company and while Felicity might not be a social butterfly, you'd have to be living underneath a rock not to have heard about Oliver Queen's rescue from a deserted island. It was all over the news these days and all anyone at QC ever seemed to talk about anymore in the break room.

Oliver and his father had been presumed dead for almost two years by the time she'd come to Queen Consolidated. Stories of the younger Queen's antics had been office legend; some of the women on the other floors had even been "victim" to his charms on more than one occasion. Felicity had never been anything more than mildly curious about him herself. He was definitely not the sort to have ever run in her social circle and she was certain she was the last sort of girl he'd ever notice. But in the last three years, Felicity had grown fond of Walter Steele, who had taken over CEO of Queen Consolidated and since Walter had married Oliver's mother, she'd become a little interested in his family life and had been happy for them all when Oliver had been miraculously found by a Chinese fishing vessel.

Now here he stood, smiling genially down at her, a battered looking laptop clutched in his hand. "Hi. I'm Oliver Queen," he said, still smiling that bland, expressionless smile he'd come in with. The way he introduced himself told her that he knew she knew who he was. He was hoping to dazzle her. The fact that she was dazzled aside, she didn't like that he expected her to act like an empty headed ninny.

"Of course," she said, trying to sound disaffected. "I know who you are, you're- Mr. Queen." She laughed a little breathlessly, fidgeting in her seat even as she chastised herself for most definitely sounding like an empty headed ninny.

Good lord, he was gorgeous. The news clips of him hardly did him justice. He was tall and even though he wore a grey sweater, she could tell his shoulders were wide beneath it. He commanded the room, sucking all the air out and so all she could focus on was him, standing there, smiling that bland smile at her.

"No," he corrected, his voice tinged with amusement. "Mr. Queen was my father."

"Right, but, he's dead." She caught herself. Oh my god. "I mean, he drowned. And you didn't. Which means, you could come down to the IT department and listen to me babble." He continued to look at her, but this time, she could see a smile around his eyes, causing his whole demeanor to lighten up. "Which will end! In three, two, one..."

Oliver looked to be hiding a chuckle. "I'm having some trouble with my computer and they told me that you were the person to come and see," he said, lifting the laptop and setting it on an uncluttered corner of her desk. She bent over it immediately, her finger automatically going to one of the holes in the case. Curious. "I was at my coffee shop surfing the web and I spilt a latte on it."

He looked at her with his lips pressed together and she couldn't help but send him a deadpan stare. "Really."

"Yeah."

"Cuz... these look like... bullet holes," she told him, continuing to trace one of the holes with her fingertip. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't sure why he expected her to be stupid. Or to act like she was stupid. Is that how all women were around him? Sure, he was gorgeous, but a girl has some pride, right?

"My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood," he replied, his face straight.

Felicity was already intrigued and she knew she'd help this guy out. Not just because he was the boss' son-in-law and not because he was built like a god either. This was a mystery and her curiosity was piqued. But that lie? Was ridiculous. And she let him know that she knew it by tilting her head as she stared him. He smiled back, the bland expression back in place.

"If there's anything you can salvage from it? I would really appreciate it."

Well. He wasn't going to acknowledge his lie which meant he had a reason for lying. Even more interesting. Alright, Mr. Queen, she thought to herself. You're on.

"Mmhmm," she murmured in assent. With a last bland smile and a thanks, Oliver handed her a card with number to call when she found something before he turned and walked off, leaving her with the bullet-ridden laptop and a list of questions a mile long. Why on earth was this billionaire playboy messing around with a shot up computer and why was it such a secret why he had it?

A few hours later, she called Oliver at the number he'd left her with. She had information for him but for herself, she only had more questions. He arrived soon after she called, apparently interested in whatever knowledge she could help him with. That interest was just another question mark for her. It was driving her nuts.

He came back to her cubicle and pulled a spare seat over to her desk so he could watch the information she pulled up from the laptop on her computer monitor. The first file she pulled up was...

"This looks like blueprints," she said.

"Do you know what of?"

She glanced at him. He was sitting very close and she could smell his very male scent. It was more than a little distracting. "The Exchange Building."

He shook his head and she turned back to the screen. "Never heard of it."

"It's where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place," she told him. She'd seen the invite go around to the higher ups in QC the week before. Oliver looked a little confused, his eyebrow up as he looked at her speculatively. Bullshit, Mr. Queen, she thought. She was starting to get an idea of what was going on here and she didn't like it. "I thought you said this was your laptop."

"Yes." It was nearly a whisper. When she continued to stare at him, he nodded in a most unconvincing manner. Did this man have any idea how to lie?

"Look," she began firmly. "I don't want to get in the middle of some Shakespearean family drama thing."

Now, he looked even more confused. His blue eyes darted around. "What?"

Felicity was mildly horrified to realize he might not know Shakespeare. "Mr. Steele marrying your mom." He wasn't getting it. She could tell. "Claudius, Gertrude... Hamlet?"

"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools I dropped out of," he told her, looking unashamed to admit he'd dropped out of college. His bluntness surprised her, especially given his earlier wheedling. Well, she'd have to spell it out then.

She gestured at the laptop. "Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries. And you have a laptop associated with one of the companies that he's competing against." It was pretty clear to her. Oliver was hoping to sabotage his stepfather, even at the risk of his own family's company. Pretty ballsy. Very Hamlet, in her opinion.

"Floyd Lawton," he said and Felicity was confused.

"No, Warren Patel," she corrected, pointing at the name at the corner of the program she'd pulled up. "Who's Floyd Lawton?"

Oliver's expression had darkened and Felicity was a little startled at the change it made to his entire demeanor. His brows were drawn together and his jaw was set. He all but glowered. "He is an... employee of Mr. Patel. Evidently."

She had a feeling there was more to this "employee" business than Oliver was letting on and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask. But she didn't. Because she realized that he still had his reasons for wanting to keep this a secret. Those reasons were a lot more complex than she'd first assumed.

He left her cubicle shortly after that but his dark mood didn't lift. If anything, he seemed to brood more as the moments passed. When he left, she was able to breathe again, not realizing until then that she'd been holding it. What was going on with that guy? And did she really want to get mixed up in it? Shoot, chances were she'd never lay eyes on Oliver Queen again. So she'd best put him and that strange meeting out of her mind.

Oliver Queen ordered a drink from the bar and watched as Tommy talked to a pretty girl on the dance floor, probably trying to get her to dance with him. Why was he wasting his time with that when he and Laurel had made it clear the previous night that they were an item?

Actually, that wasn't true. They had been an item. Oliver couldn't tell if Laurel was interested in a more serious relationship or not. It was clear to him that his best friend was. That was true even before Thea had "spilled the beans" to him several nights ago, at Max Fuller's club. Of course, he'd known about Laurel and Tommy since almost the day he'd gotten back to Starling City. It was hard to keep secrets from the Vigilante.

Oliver wasn't sure how he felt about it. Reconciling with Laurel, while it had once been a focus of his attention when he'd first gotten stranded on the island, had become something far less likely over the years he'd been away. Then, there was the way she'd reacted to him when he'd first returned. The things she had said had been hurtful but she was right to say them. Was there any way to heal that wound in their relationship? Would she even want to? Did he even want to?

Now, he and Tommy were out again, scoping out another club to gather ideas. Actually, Oliver was pretty sure what he wanted to do with the club he was going to open right over his foundry hideout, but Tommy was so enthusiastic about "research" that Oliver couldn't quite say no. Plus, his friend was right, he needed to unwind.

His life had been moving along at breakneck speed since he'd gotten back. One crisis or another had monopolized his time and attention, and it hadn't left much room for just... living. So, he pushed his concerns about his bodyguard, John Diggle, aside for the evening and took another sip of the whiskey that sat on the bar top before him. He'd find some way to convince Dig to help him out, he just wasn't sure how yet. That was a problem better left for the light of day.

Oliver turned his attention to the patrons who were crowding around the bar. A few stools down, a gorgeous young blonde was sitting with a pink martini sitting half drunk before her. He couldn't get a good look at her face, but if it was anything like the rest of her, she was surely a knockout.

Her dress was tight, short and pink, and sparkled in the strobing lights of the club like it was on fire. It left her arms bare, as well as the vast majority of her long, toned legs. Strappy silver sandals with outrageously high heels adorned her feet and he suddenly had an urge to see her standing in them, to see how they shifted her posture. How they made her ass look.

Oliver took another swallow of his drink and let his gaze crawl up her body. He'd always been something of a womanizer, even he knew that. While his experience on the island had tempered his control quite a bit, he still had an eye for a gorgeous woman. The throbbing in his groin told him that his body missed the company of those women even if his brain told him he didn't have the time.

This girl was slender, but with soft curves at her hips and breasts. Something about her petite build called to the primitive inside of him, wanting to cover her body with his; to protect her. And wasn't that a strange thought to have in the middle of a bar? Her long, loose blonde hair obscured her face as she took a sip of her martini, the golden curls bouncing a little as she moved on the stool to the beat of the music. She looked like a girl that wanted to dance. She didn't appear to be talking to anyone and he took a moment to fully appreciate the injustice of a pretty young woman out at a club with no one to dance with.

He could certainly fix that.

Oliver polished off his whiskey and stood up from his stool. The music pounded and thumped around him, joining the alcohol buzzing through his bloodstream to give him confidence as he strolled up to the very pink lady.

"Care for a dance?" he asked, leaning down so he could speak into her ear.

She swiveled around instantly, her mouth popping into an "o" of surprise. And, god help him, her face as just as gorgeous as the rest of her. She had a plush, bow mouth, currently bright pink to match her dress. Her eyes were big and blue... almost a grey-blue, like a storm over the ocean. Her eyes were done up with smokey makeup giving her a very sultry and very mature look. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't quite place her.

"Excuse me?" she said, raising her voice to be heard over the music.

"I asked you if you want to dance!"

"Uhm, sure, why not," she said. She finished off her drink and slid off her bar stool. She wobbled when she landed on her stilettos and Oliver grabbed her arm to steady her.

"You got it?"

"Yep. Just... alcohol and high heels... not always a good combo," she explained, giggling a little. She was looking at him oddly, as though she was expecting him to say something but then forgetting why she thought that.

Oliver led her out into the mash of bodies that were moving to the throbbing music and pulled her into his arm. She hesitated for just a moment before relaxing into a smile and linking her hands behind his neck.

God, it felt good to have a woman in his arms again. She felt amazing and smelled even better. Like sunshine on wildflowers. How could anyone smell like that in the middle of a club? She moved to the music, weaving just a little, but he attributed that to the martini. Her movements were still fluid, still sensual and knowledgeable. She had a natural rhythm, which god help him, made him think of other activities where a natural rhythm was a bonus.

"How many drinks have you had?" he finally asked as she leaned heavily into him at one point.

Her beautiful blue eyes were hazed a bit as she gazed up at him. "Three? No... four. I think it was four. Maybe five."

Shit, she was adorable too. Oliver was quickly being sucked down a familiar spiral. He wanted this girl and he was quickly running out of reasons to give himself why he shouldn't have her. At least just for tonight.

"Maybe we should cut you off," he said, lowering his voice. He gave her his sexiest smile and she seemed to melt against him.

"Where's the fun in that," she slurred.

The music changed, shifting into something slower and more erotic. Couples around them began to grind on another. Oh yes, Oliver knew this dance very well. He looked up over her head and saw Tommy over at the bar. He met his friend's eye and winked. Tommy gave her a slow perusal and then flashed him the thumbs up sign.

Oliver pulled her closer to him, fitting her hips against his and fully appreciating the way her curves fit against his rigid planes. Her head rested against his chest, her curling blonde hair tickling his chin as he ducked his head to speak into her ear. "You feel good like this," he told her.

"You feel better," she replied, smoothing her hands over the muscles of his back.

"I don't normally do this," he began, trying to remember quickly what some of the lines he'd used back in the day were. God, he was out of practice.

"I don't buy that for a second," she said. "I think you've done this quite a few times, Oliver."

Wait. He pulled away from her so he could see her eyes. "How do you know my name?"

She cocked her head at him and, at that gesture, it came to him in a flash. This was the very same girl he'd taken Floyd Lawton's laptop to at QC! What was her name again? "Felicity?"

She blinked, her big blue eyes at him and then smiled, the alcohol she'd had making it lopsided. "Who did you think I was?"

"I thought you were a gorgeous woman. You are a gorgeous woman. I just didn't recognize you with all..." He broke off and gestured at her. Instead of getting offended she just giggled that tipsy laugh of hers that he was growing very fond of.

"That's kind of the point, Oliver," she purred, gazing up from him from beneath her darkened lashes as she once again wound her arms around his neck. This time, she linked her wrists, drawing him closer. He allowed himself to be drawn.

They danced like that for a minute, swaying together and Oliver wondered if the knowledge that she worked for his family's company should deter him from seducing her tonight. Was it wise to have a one night stand with someone like her as opposed to a random girl in a bar? Before the island, he wouldn't have thought twice about the consequences. Now, his life was nothing but consequences.

But he was tired and lonely, and she was looking at him like she wanted to eat him up and dammit, it felt good. It didn't have to be a problem. He was a big boy now and she seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders. This could work, he promised himself. But then, why did that feel so much like lying?

"Does this change your stance?" Felicity asked at last. The music was low enough, though still throbbing, that he could just barely hear her from where her head still rested on his chest.

"Hmm? My stance on what?" He smoothed a hand over her hip, enjoying the curve and the warmth of her skin that seeped through the fabric of her dress.

"On what you were saying to me before we got sidetracked. You were giving me a line, about how you don't normally do this."

"That was not a line!"

She snorted. Snorted. Dammit, that was adorable too.

"Okay, before the island, I did this sort of thing all the time. Since the island? Not at all."

Felicity lifted her head and met his eyes. She must have seen something authentic there because she sighed and replaced her head. "You didn't answer my question."

"No, Felicity. It doesn't change my stance. I still..." He grabbed her hip with one of his hand, the other hand pressed into the middle of her back. They continued to sway together to the music. "I still want you."

There was silence for a moment and Oliver felt something he'd never felt before in his life: uncertainty. He fought against tightening his grip while he waited for her response.

"Okay, then," she murmured.

Something in his chest loosened. The end of the song was nearing when another thought occurred to him.

"What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you do this sort of thing often?"

Oliver was surprised when Felicity suddenly threw her head back and laughed. It was a musical sound, and he couldn't help but appreciate the long smooth column of her neck and the way her curls cascaded behind her.

"Hell no. I don't even usually go out to the club. See, my friend Stacy from MIT, we were roommates for two years, she's working for Wayne Enterprises in Gotham and I never get to see her but we Skype all the time. And she told me that I had to go out tonight to an actual club, take a selfie of myself while I was there and send it to her as proof."

Oliver couldn't fight the laugh that bubbled up in his throat and he wondered for a second if this was the first time he'd laughed since the island. First she'd coaxed a genuine smile from him and now a laugh. He could only imagine what would come next.

He backed away a little and held out his hand to her. "Hand me your phone, I'll take the picture," he offered.

Eyebrow raised, Felicity reached down the neck of her dress and into her bra, extracting a slim, state-of-the-art cell phone a moment later. She handed it to him and he had a moment to appreciate how it was warmed from the heat of her body. He turned it on and opened the camera app. "Okay, smile!"

She gave a coquettish grin, batting her dark lashes and doing her best sultry vamp look for the camera. It was working, Oliver noted, as even more of his blood flow journeyed south to his groin. She blew him a kiss before she took the phone back. He watched as her fingers tapped at the screen and then she tucked the phone back into her bra.

"I sent it to her with a little note about how it was taken by the guy I'm bringing home with me," she informed him.

Anticipation swam in his veins and he stepped up to her again, cupping her shoulder with his palm, rubbing her soft skin. "Is that so?"

"That's so, Mr. Queen," she murmured.

"I told you," he replied, his voice low and soft as he let his heated gaze travel over her face, ending up at her lips. "Mr. Queen was my father."

Felicity grabbed the lapels of his sport coat and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his. She caught him off guard and for a brief moment, all he noticed was that her lips were indeed as soft as they looked. Then, his brain caught up with what was going on and he wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head. He angled his head so that he could kiss her deeper and she opened for him, allowing him to stroke his tongue into her mouth.

Sweet Jesus, she tasted amazing. And the way she responded to him, pressing herself against his body and scratching her nails through his closely-cropped hair stirred his already thrumming arousal to new heights. Oh yes, this was going to happen. God help him, he couldn't think of any reasons not to anymore.