Office Space
Felicity
Felicity likes staying late at the office. It’s quiet and people don’t come around asking stupid questions like, ‘I just downloaded a bunch of sketchy programs and now I have a virus,’ or, ‘How can I get past the company firewall,’ cause she knows they’re just gonna use that for porn.
Also, at night, she can work on stuff for Oliver without worrying about anyone catching her. Right now, though, she’s on the fiftieth level of a riveting game of Tetris, which, everyone likes Tetris, okay? It’s not her fault she’s addicted.
“Fuck yeah,” she mutters to herself, finally getting to level fifty one. She leans back in her chair, rubbing a thumb over her soulmark, an old habit. She was born with her soulmark, a few words on her right index finger in handwriting so neat it almost looks typed.
To be honest, her soulmark has always concerned her. For one thing, it’s got two whole curse words in it, and the tone isn’t exactly…positive. But hey, if they turn out to be nasty or something, she still has friends and family. Not everyone is destined to stay with their soulmate, anyway.
She sighs and taps her fingers against her desk, thinking that she should really get back to work. Oliver wants info on some Albanian gangsters who have been moving in on Starling City lately. There’s a noise behind her, almost too soft to be heard, and hair rises on the back of her neck.
She turns, and it’s fucking Deathstroke, the guy who’s been hunting Oliver for the past couple of months. Shit. Shit. She says the first words that come to mind. “If you get blood on my computer, I will come back from the dead and snap your neck with my newfound ghost powers.”
He pauses with a hand to one of his swords, head tilting. She waits with her heart in her throat, and is this a bad guy thing, to stand there, just watching, until she can’t breathe and her eyes are watering. “Well, I’ll be fucking damned.”
Shit. Now the tears are really starting to spill, because she’s both really happy, cause soulmate, and still really scared, because bad guy with sword, but also soulmate.
She’s only heard of a few people who purposely killed their soulmates, and she’s really hoping that’s not gonna happen here. Oliver was friends with him once, there’s gotta be something good in there, hidden under the layers of people he’s killed.
She’s crying harder now, damnit, and Felicity knows she’s an ugly crier, even her mom says so. Deathstroke takes a hesitant step forward, peeling off the mask. Underneath he’s handsome, and he has an eye patch. He’s also quite a bit older than her, and he looks concerned.
“I’m pretty sure you, you’re here to kill me,” she stammers, wiping at her eyes, cause if she’s gotta die, she’s not going to die crying. He reaches out a hand and touches her cheek, thumb stroking away the tears. She leans into his touch instinctively.
“No. I wasn’t here to kill you.” He has an accent, and this is the guy who’s been terrorizing them for months, but she raises her hands to the one on her face, tangles his fingers in hers. He gives her a crooked smile. “You’re very beautiful.”
“You’re very, uh, muscely.” He grins and steps closer, so their knees are touching. He smells like gun oil and pine.
“Thank you. Please stop crying. I realize that I’m probably not your ideal soulmate, but we must make the best of what we have.” She sniffs and presses a kiss to his knuckles, not really thinking about it.
“It’s fine. Just stop trying to kill my friends, and it’ll be fine.”
“I’ll think about it.” He’s straight faced, and she’s going to have to rethink her whole life. This is such a mess, but he’s still got his hand in hers, which is a good sign.
“So, uh, platonic, or, um…”
“I won’t be able to keep my hands off you,” he says, shrugging, moving her so she’s sitting on her desk, his hips between her knees.
“I’m gonna need time to process this.”
“Mhm.” He presses a quick kiss to her lips, almost chaste, and steps away, slipping the mask back on. “Don’t tell Queen about this.”
“Oh my God, of course not!”
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“How…you already know everything about me, don’t you?” He nods and leaves. She sits with a shaky breath, deciding that tonight is a ‘no emotions, only hacking’ kind of night.
When she gets home, there’s a bottle of wine on her dining room table and a note, in the same neat handwriting as on her finger.
In case you need to forget about me.
It’s good wine. She leaves a glass of it on her fire escape, and it’s gone by the morning, politely washed out and left on her counter. She rubs at her soulmark and smiles. Next time she sees him, things will go better.
Also, at night, she can work on stuff for Oliver without worrying about anyone catching her. Right now, though, she’s on the fiftieth level of a riveting game of Tetris, which, everyone likes Tetris, okay? It’s not her fault she’s addicted.
“Fuck yeah,” she mutters to herself, finally getting to level fifty one. She leans back in her chair, rubbing a thumb over her soulmark, an old habit. She was born with her soulmark, a few words on her right index finger in handwriting so neat it almost looks typed.
To be honest, her soulmark has always concerned her. For one thing, it’s got two whole curse words in it, and the tone isn’t exactly…positive. But hey, if they turn out to be nasty or something, she still has friends and family. Not everyone is destined to stay with their soulmate, anyway.
She sighs and taps her fingers against her desk, thinking that she should really get back to work. Oliver wants info on some Albanian gangsters who have been moving in on Starling City lately. There’s a noise behind her, almost too soft to be heard, and hair rises on the back of her neck.
She turns, and it’s fucking Deathstroke, the guy who’s been hunting Oliver for the past couple of months. Shit. Shit. She says the first words that come to mind. “If you get blood on my computer, I will come back from the dead and snap your neck with my newfound ghost powers.”
He pauses with a hand to one of his swords, head tilting. She waits with her heart in her throat, and is this a bad guy thing, to stand there, just watching, until she can’t breathe and her eyes are watering. “Well, I’ll be fucking damned.”
Shit. Now the tears are really starting to spill, because she’s both really happy, cause soulmate, and still really scared, because bad guy with sword, but also soulmate.
She’s only heard of a few people who purposely killed their soulmates, and she’s really hoping that’s not gonna happen here. Oliver was friends with him once, there’s gotta be something good in there, hidden under the layers of people he’s killed.
She’s crying harder now, damnit, and Felicity knows she’s an ugly crier, even her mom says so. Deathstroke takes a hesitant step forward, peeling off the mask. Underneath he’s handsome, and he has an eye patch. He’s also quite a bit older than her, and he looks concerned.
“I’m pretty sure you, you’re here to kill me,” she stammers, wiping at her eyes, cause if she’s gotta die, she’s not going to die crying. He reaches out a hand and touches her cheek, thumb stroking away the tears. She leans into his touch instinctively.
“No. I wasn’t here to kill you.” He has an accent, and this is the guy who’s been terrorizing them for months, but she raises her hands to the one on her face, tangles his fingers in hers. He gives her a crooked smile. “You’re very beautiful.”
“You’re very, uh, muscely.” He grins and steps closer, so their knees are touching. He smells like gun oil and pine.
“Thank you. Please stop crying. I realize that I’m probably not your ideal soulmate, but we must make the best of what we have.” She sniffs and presses a kiss to his knuckles, not really thinking about it.
“It’s fine. Just stop trying to kill my friends, and it’ll be fine.”
“I’ll think about it.” He’s straight faced, and she’s going to have to rethink her whole life. This is such a mess, but he’s still got his hand in hers, which is a good sign.
“So, uh, platonic, or, um…”
“I won’t be able to keep my hands off you,” he says, shrugging, moving her so she’s sitting on her desk, his hips between her knees.
“I’m gonna need time to process this.”
“Mhm.” He presses a quick kiss to her lips, almost chaste, and steps away, slipping the mask back on. “Don’t tell Queen about this.”
“Oh my God, of course not!”
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“How…you already know everything about me, don’t you?” He nods and leaves. She sits with a shaky breath, deciding that tonight is a ‘no emotions, only hacking’ kind of night.
When she gets home, there’s a bottle of wine on her dining room table and a note, in the same neat handwriting as on her finger.
In case you need to forget about me.
It’s good wine. She leaves a glass of it on her fire escape, and it’s gone by the morning, politely washed out and left on her counter. She rubs at her soulmark and smiles. Next time she sees him, things will go better.