His Girl Friday

Honesty, Honestly!

. . .

Summary: Oliver fumbles when Felicity demands an honest answer

Note: EEP! So, I've seen The Scientist, and naturally they made me fall in love with Barry Allen. Damn you, Arrow writers & Grant Gustin. Off to watch the midseason finale with my mom and a little bit of wine and hopefully I'll be able to squeeze out a few more updates before Christmas. Thanks to all of you who have been back to read and review, or just to enjoy the story! I'm glad you've kept with it even after this hiatus of mine!

And because a few have asked: the requests that I've promised to add will be posted/written in time. And just as a note, the story where Oliver goes as Felicity's plus one to her parents' anniversary party will be written, but it will be a stand-alone one-shot separate from His Girl Friday.

. . .

"Oliver I'm going to ask you a question," Felicity said, looking him over like she was making sure that he was actually listening to the request—which contrary to what she might think; he always listened to her.

"And I need an incredibly honest answer, okay?" Felicity finished, still looking at him with that serious look on her face.

"Oliver?"

As Felicity walked into his office, Oliver wondered if this was his karmic punishment for something he'd done. The last time a woman had asked him for an honest answer he'd gotten a slap to the face. Felicity, he decided, might not hit him but somehow she managed to hit him back that much harder just with words.

Really, he didn't know how she did it.

"Okay," Oliver said slowly, gathering up the papers on his desk and sliding them into a folder as a distraction from looking at her.

It wasn't always so easy. He was well aware of an unsanctioned and rumored pool that had her voted the sexiest secretary seven weeks running. God knew, if he knew who was doing it he would shut it down-

Firstly, because he couldn't imagine the months of painful awkwardness it would take them to recover. Felicity could hardly refer to their nights together at Verdant without blushing.

Secondly, Felicity was sensitive enough about being a secretary and he couldn't imagine how furious she would be knowing that she was being subjugated by the males in the office.

And not lastly, he had this sort of tugging annoyance with the sheer idea...

No, Oliver sighed silently, scrubbing his his hand over his face as he turned his attention to Felicity. It was a mess of such grand proportions that he just hoped that she never found out.

"Is there something wrong with my skirts?" Felicity asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

God, it was going to be one of those days.

Oliver swallowed over the dry patch in his throat. It was moments like this that lead him to believe that Felicity could actually read his mind.

"Oliver," Felicity formed his name slowly and purposefully, obviously seething with some information she'd heard from someone else.

He'd never even told Diggle about this. How did she find out?

"Yes." He cleared his throat, suddenly realizing the ramifications of the word. "I mean no!"

"Oliver, don't..." Felicity frowned, her words trailing off in a frustrated sigh. "What is the matter? Why wouldn't you tell me this?"

"The..." Oliver sighed.

God help him, but six years, and an overhaul to everything he knew to be true in life...And he still didn't know how to breach a topic like this with a woman.

"You look...very nice." Oliver said with a nod of his head, gesturing to the pink dress she was wearing.

"Has anyone ever told you that flattery will get you nowhere?" Felicity told him, flicking her ponytail back. "And do you really think that now is the right moment to comment on my wardrobe?"

Because he didn't know how to avoid trouble when it fell across his path.

"You won." Oliver tried, realizing less than half way through the sentence he should have shut up. "And that is not an excuse. Im working on finding the people who did this, and it's at the top of the list Felicity. It's inappropriate, and sexist, and you know—"

"Oliver, I don't care that a few misogynistic jerks are judging me based on the color of my hair and length of my skirts." Felicity told him, throwing her arms down to her side in clear exasperation with him. "What bothers me is that I find it out from..."

She sighed, shaking her head as her sentence trailed off.

"It doesn't matter. I thought we were honest with each other."

It mattered to him. He would have liked to know who it was that told her about this mess before he'd had a chance to make it all go away.

Well, I also thought I was no longer an idiot, Oliver thought, so I suppose this makes us even.

"Felicity, I never lied." Oliver said, "I didn't want to tell you because I thought I would have it taken care of by now. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable at work."

Felicity laughed, "Oliver, I am a blonde computer geek in a profession dominated by balding men who have long since let their gym memberships fizzle out. Do you think I was never objectified before?"

Oliver didn't expected to be so annoyed by the revelation, but he was.

"I should have spoken to you." Oliver admitted, "Our relationship is supposed to be based on a mutual trust, and I got preoccupied with trying to fix it. It won't happen again."

"Next time," Felicity said pointedly, "I'd rather hear about this sort of thing from you, than to get a snotty lecture from Isabel about how I'm setting back the work of women feminists by a century."

Felicity stood up, and smoothed out her skirt.

"Please. Now, if you'll excuse me, I missed lunch and I hear that the pastry chef in the cafe makes an incredible fruit tart. So, you know where I'll be."

As she walked away, Oliver realized a flickering of resentment toward Isabel again. She wouldn't be the first woman to punish him for sleeping with her, but she was the most vindictive.

He groaned as he leaned back in his chair.

And he thought that keeping the city safe was going to be a momentous task to take on. It was nothing compared to trying to run a company in the midst of warring women.

Speaking of vacations…

Oliver chuckled as he caught sight of the note on his desk that he'd written to remind himself of Felicity's family obligation to her parents' wedding anniversary at the end of the month. He hadn't trusted her to program it into his schedule, but he'd been serious.

Besides, he'd be lying if he didn't say he was looking forward to getting a little taste of someone else's family dysfunction.