Chapter Text
Chapter Five
When Moira had mentioned an interview with a reputable news outlet, Felicity and Oliver had not expected a crash course with the QC PR team right after lunch, which had already been an ordeal with them in the hot seat as the family hashed out the details of the “whirlwind, fairytale romance” they were all going to help sell.
The dining table had barely been cleared before the corporate PR team began to arrive. Felicity recognized some of her coworkers in the mix of nearly twenty people from the QC Communications umbrella as they gathered in the foyer. She could tell that most had no idea why they’d been called at short notice to the Queen Mansion, though Felicity assumed the occasional stolen glance in her and Oliver’s direction meant at least some of them had seen the news that morning and were drawing their conclusions.
She tried to ignore the warring butterflies in her stomach, grateful for the solid and reassuring presence of Oliver at her side. Every time she started to fret or fidget, he somehow sensed it and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
At last, Moira ascended the first few steps of the mansion’s grand staircase and gained everyone’s attention. Though Walter was the QC CEO, Moira was undoubtedly in charge this afternoon.
“I want to start by thanking each of you for giving us part of your Sunday for an important matter that affects both Queen Consolidated and my family,” Moira began. “As some of you may know, my son Oliver and Felicity Smoak from the IT Department have been quietly seeing each other for the past several weeks. What may come as a surprise is that they chose to elope in Las Vegas last night.”
While her coworkers absorbed confirmation of the news they’d no doubt discarded as rumor that morning, Felicity’s own anxiety was momentarily replaced with awe of her mother-in-law. The Queen matriarch had oh-so-casually just sown the first seeds of their story — and amongst some of the company’s biggest gossips. They would never admit to not knowing the inner happenings at Queen Consolidated; if anyone questioned the validity of their relationship, at least a dozen of her coworkers were going to claim they knew all along.
“We couldn’t be happier to welcome Felicity to the family,” Moira continued. “However, there is concern for how this surprise development may be seen by investors. That is why you’re all here today.”
Moira turned the floor over to Christopher Darren, QC’s Director of Communications, who outlined the various roles and tasks for the marketing campaign surrounding the Queen nuptials. While some were tasked with preparing press releases, media advisories, fact sheets, Oliver and Felicity were sequestered in Walter’s office for media coaching with the corporate media manager, with whom Felicity was familiar and not a fan.
“I don’t know if you remember me, Oliver. We met when I was an intern” Miranda Cooke said as she introduced herself, then added with a wink. “At one of the corporate after parties.”
Oliver had no idea who Miranda was but, based on that wink, assumed she was one of the faceless girls he’d flirted with when forced to attend company events. He smiled politely. “I’m glad to see you stayed with the company.”
“Oh, of course!” she said brightly, toss a lock of dark hair behind her shoulder. “QC is a wonderful place to work. Isn’t that right, Felicity?” Not actually giving Felicity a chance to answer, Miranda continued. “You’re going to have two interviews today. One as a couple and the other with Mr. Steele, Mrs. Queen and Oliver’s sister. I’m going to present some basic tips for media interaction and then we’ll go over some of the questions we anticipate you’ll be asked today.”
Despite Felicity not loving the way Miranda kept undressing Oliver with her eyes, she was surprisingly helpful and professional.
“The most important thing during any interview, is to stay calm. Try to keep your posture and your voice relaxed, conversational. Feel free to share stories or anecdotes to illustrate your answer as it makes you seem more transparent. And avoid saying ‘no comment’ — that’s the opposite of transparent and will only make an interviewer want to dig more.” Miranda paused and gave Oliver a smile. “I know, that seemed like a lot but it will make more sense while we go through the practice questions.”
Oliver, who was already familiar with what he should — but didn’t always — do during an interview, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Felicity was the one who needed the help and Miranda seemed determined to forget she was even in the room.
“First question. How long have you been dating?”
Oliver looked at Felicity, urging her to answer the first question because she needed the practice.
“Six weeks,” Felicity answered, utilizing the number they’d come up with over lunch based on the first time Oliver had dropped by her office for a favor.
“This is a perfect example of adding an anecdote to illustrate your answer and turn the interview into a dialogue rather than an inquisition. Oliver, would you like to try?”
Oliver smiled at Felicity as he answered. “We’ve been together since October. I’d stopped by the IT department for some tech support shortly after my return and Felicity was the one to help me. She was amazing — brilliant and funny. I’m lucky she agreed to go out with me despite the number of times I had to ask her for help navigating 2012 technology.”
“Better,” Miranda praised. “Let’s try another one. Felicity, why Vegas?”
“My mom lives there,” Felicity answered. At Miranda’s look to continue, she blew out a breath. “My mom lives in Vegas and I was visiting her for Thanksgiving. And it turned out Oliver was doing a favor for Mr. Steele — Walter — and was also going to be in town. We’d made plans to meet up while we were there…and, well, it’s Vegas and we got caught up in the romance. I don’t think Oliver had planned to ask me to marry him, at least not this soon, but I was more than happy to say ‘yes.’”
“Oh, I was already thinking about asking,” Oliver said, running his hand down Felicity’s arm and smiling warmly at her. “And I’m also happy you said ‘yes.’”
When Miranda didn’t say anything, both Felicity and Oliver looked over at her. “Sorry,” she said. “That was great. And very sweet. That’s exactly how you’ll want to answer. Let’s do a few more, hmm?”
After a series of questions, there was a soft knock on the door before one of the security detail stuck her head in. “Mr. Queen? Tommy Merlyn is here to see you.”
“I’ll be right there. Thank you,” Oliver said before turning to Felicity. “You okay on your own?”
Felicity nodded and Oliver followed the guard out to find Tommy quietly watching the festivities in the parlor.
“So…I hear congratulations are in order?” he said as Oliver joined him. “When I first heard the news, I expected to bride to be Helena. I was a little relieved when it wasn’t but also…a lot confused.”
Oliver angled his head and then quietly indicated that Tommy follow him back toward the kitchen. Unfortunately, dinner preparations were already underway so Tommy followed Oliver further back to the secondary kitchen which was only utilized for parties.
Once they were alone, Tommy asked, “So what’s going on? Because last I knew, you were heartbroken — or as heartbroken as you get — over Helena Bertinelli. And now you’re married to some blonde I’ve never even heard of.”
“Her name’s Felicity.”
Tommy waited a beat. “And?” he asked in exasperation.
“Felicity works for QC. I’ve sort of been seeing her since shortly after I got back. But, since she works for QC, she was a little worried about how things would look to her coworkers if anyone knew we were dating. So I agreed to keep it quiet. And she kept insisting it wouldn’t work between us and I should date women in my echelon — she uses words like that, echelon — so I went out with Helena. But that just made me realize who I really wanted to be with.”
“If you’d told me any of this before, I would have said she’s just not that into you.”
“Glad you would have been wrong.” Oliver smiled, a genuine smile he felt to his toes. “I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s amazing.”
“I assume she has to be for you to keep puppy-dogging it. Have you talked to Laurel?”
“No. It’s been a whirlwind since we got home with my mom and Walter doing damage control.”
“Moira really should be used to it by now,” Tommy said.
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After the longest afternoon of her life, riding in the back of the Bentley while Oliver followed on his motorcycle wasn’t quite as awkward as Felicity felt it should have been. She was grateful for Oliver’s body man — John, he’d insisted — as he kept up polite conversation on the drive to her apartment.
Granted, his questions were probably more about ascertaining tomorrow’s security needs as he inquired about her usual routine, but his gentle probing was still a relief after the Queen family’s best attempts to ease her into the foreseeable future’s new normal — which was anything but.
As though sensing the pending spiral of her thoughts, John caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m impressed with how well you’re handling all of this. The Queens and their world can be a lot.”
“You think?” Felicity forced a smile. “Sorry. I meant, thank you. It’s not like I had much choice but to rise to the occasion.”
“You always have a choice, Felicity.”
“Not when you make monumentally stupid mistakes you don’t.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” John insisted. “And I don’t think you should punish yourself for things beyond your control.”
Before Felicity could say anything, John pulled up to the curb in front of her building, where a dark SUV already idled. The advance security team, she assumed, knowing Moira had insisted that they have a full detail at her apartment. Considering Oliver was in the process of opening a nightclub in the heart of the Glades, Felicity thought it was overkill for her apartment building but, as she noticed the two news vans parked across the street, she supposed she could be a little grateful for their intimidating presence.
Not waiting for John to open her door, Felicity let herself out and waited as Oliver parked his death machine behind the Bentley. She was not a fan of motorcycles and really hoped part of their fake marriage wouldn’t be pretending that she did.
With the paparazzi lingering just across the way, Felicity allowed Oliver to wrap his arm around her waist as John and another body man got their luggage from the trunk — the single pink carry-on Felicity had taken to Vegas and most of a matched set containing Oliver’s belongings.
Quietly, Felicity whispered, “Having just spent the day in an actual mansion, I should warn you that my apartment is cozy but also…definitely…not a mansion.”
“Don’t worry,” Oliver said with a smile. “I’m sure it’s still better than where I was sleeping most of the last five years. My standards are pretty low.”
“That’s good. Keep them there,” she said as they walked through the lobby and past the elevator. “I’m on the third floor and the elevator hasn’t worked since I moved in. I like to consider it my cardio.”
John preceded them as they made their way up the four flights of steps, encountering no one despite the relatively early hour. Most of her neighbors were older and kept to themselves but she was surprised by the absolute lack of at least one poking their head out to view the parade of newcomers. Maybe the security detail had already made their intimidating presence known inside the building as well.
They arrived at her door and John indicated that Felicity and Oliver should wait with two bodyguards and their luggage while he and the other guard cleared the apartment. Much as Felicity thought it was unnecessary and wanted nothing more than the quiet and comfort of her apartment, she nodded and handed her key to John.
From her vantage point, she watched as John and his man — she should really ask their names, since none had been offered — moved through her apartment, trading comments as they moved from the open living/dining area, down the short hall toward her bedroom and paused to check out the second bedroom and bathroom along the way.
When the two men were done, they returned to the entry and helped carry the bags into the living space.
“I will make a list of recommendations, Mr. Queen, but for now I think you and Mrs. Queen should be secure for the night. My guys will be downstairs if you need anything,” he said.
“Thank you, John,” Felicity said, ignoring the flip-flop her stomach did when he addressed her as Mrs. Queen again. That was going to take so much getting used to.
“My pleasure, Mrs. Queen,” he said with a smile and she was a little bit positive he was doing it on purpose now.
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Finally alone, Felicity led Oliver on a brief tour of the apartment — which took less than five minutes — and ended with them in her bedroom, unpacking Oliver’s luggage.
As Oliver pulled items out of the largest suitcase, Felicity had her head buried in the reach-in closet, pulling an assortment of her own clothes out to accommodate her husband’s.
“I know our romance is supposed to be whirlwind but it should look like you’ve been to my apartment before,” she explained, her voice muffled every time she reached back in to grab more dresses and remove them from their hangars. “It’s not just clothes in the closet and toiletries in the bathroom. You should seem comfortable, like you’ve not only been here before but you’re at home when you’re here. You should have socks under the coffee table and a favorite mug in the cupboard and not care that your shaving kit is next to a box of tampons.”
Oliver took the handful of now-empty hangars and proceeded to insert them into his own clothes. “First of all, I’m not really the type to leave socks laying around, comfortable or otherwise. And, second, how do you know all this?”
“My mom’s kind of obsessively into celebrity gossip, and being in Vegas only amps up her exposure because she’s seen a lot of it up close. Cheating spouses, faking it for the cameras, that type of stuff. We have to tell our story in layers, beyond the obvious. It’s kind of like Miranda said about adding anecdotes during interviews. It’s not just adding your stuff to my closet, it’s mixing it in. Some of your clothes should be on my cheap wire hangars and a couple of my dresses should be on your fancy hangars. And one of your sweaters should be folded and ‘accidentally’ mixed in with mine on this shelf. And this sweater should be hung over this chair here —” she took a thick green sweater and let it hang loosely off the back of the wooden chair of her vanity — “because I like to wear it before bed on chilly nights. Or we want them to think that. Little things like that tell the story without saying anything.”
“You’re remarkable, Felicity. I never would have thought of that.”
“Thank you for remarking on it — but I can’t take all the credit. You know that thing about how ‘the staff always knows?’ Well it’s totally true and almost double for hotel staff because they have no loyalty to anyone in particular. If you want to know what’s going on in a couple’s life, just find the housekeeper from their last hotel stay and they’ll tell you everything.”
They worked in companionable silence, moving items of Felicity’s out of the way and interspersing Oliver’s. As Felicity unzipped the final, smallest suitcase, she smiled in triumph as she pulled out framed family photos Oliver recognized from his own bedroom. “Ah. This is what I’m talking about. Your mom gets it.”
“I doubt my mother had anything to do with packing those. It was probably Raisa.”
“Okay, that makes more sense. I told you, the staff knows. We’ve got a family picture, one of you and Thea, what looks like high school graduation…yeah, these work.” Felicity set about rearranging her own photos throughout the apartment to mix Oliver’s in. “One of your PR people suggested we stage a few photos of us together but that’s too obvious. Mixing your family photos in work for now. A photo from the wedding photo would be expected — is there something in the packet the chapel gave you we could frame?”
“I’m sure there is. I think I was sober enough to spring for the deluxe package — it came with a wedding album, too.”
“Well that’s just perfect.” Felicity dug the packet out of the suitcase Oliver indicated. “Again, we can’t be too obvious so the coffee table’s out.”
“What about the dresser?” Oliver suggested. “We just got married, so we were excited to look at it together after a long weekend. But then we got distracted by…other things…and forgot it…here.”
Felicity, who had actively avoided thinking about their already determined sleeping arrangements, swallowed audibly. “Yeah, okay. If a reporter makes it as far as the bedroom, they’ll see it discarded there. Or, if they ask to see it, one of us can excuse ourselves to get it from the bedroom.”
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As Felicity finished her nighttime routine, she found herself staring at the rings on her left hand. Despite clashing with the questionable-carat gold band Oliver had purchased the previous night, the Dearden ring almost looked like it belonged on her finger. Which was a good thing because she was terrified to take it off for fear of losing it.
She stepped out of the bedroom to find Oliver sitting on the edge of the bed, already changed into a pair of loose pants and t-shirt.
“When I said we should share the bed again, I guess I kind of forgot how much bigger the bed was last night.”
“I don’t have to sleep in here, Felicity. I know you said a good reporter would recognize if I was sleeping on the couch but I can also sleep on the floor.”
“Oliver, we’re adults. I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor when there is a two-adult sized bed right here. And, no, before you even say it, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor just because it’s better than the ground or cave where you’d been sleeping in for the past five years.”
To show that the matter was settled, Felicity pulled the blanket down on her side of the bed and crawled in. “See?” she insisted. “Plenty of room.”
By the time Oliver was laying down and his broad shoulders were invitingly close to snuggle range, Felicity’s definition of “plenty” might not have been entirely accurate.
But, once horizontal, the fatigue of the long and draining day quickly dragged her into a deep sleep.