Chapter Text
Oliver Queen had hit a low point.
“Diggle, I need this job!” he exclaimed. Oliver put his hands on his face. “I can’t do civilian life anymore. I need...something. Something to keep me active and alert without…” Oliver trailed off.
Diggle sighed. He knew exactly what Oliver was dealing with. “Look, I’ll pull some strings for you. I know a lot of good people in the business. I’ll see if I can connect you with someone,” he said.
Oliver closed his eyes and sighed. Diggle was a lifesaver. “Thank you.”
Diggle shook his head and watched as Oliver gathered his things and left the apartment. He felt bad for the kid. Twenty-six, back from active duty, didn’t know what to do with his life. Diggle had been there. He’d made it through, and he knew Oliver would, too. Still, Diggle worried about Oliver. Alone and dealing with PTSD was never an easy place in life. Hopefully Diggle could find something suitable for his friend.
Oliver got the call about the job nearly a week later.
“How do you feel about being a personal bodyguard for the daughter of a rich senator?” asked Diggle on the phone.
Oliver frowned. “You mean a spoiled socialite?” He wasn’t sure being around spoiled rich girls was quite his cup of tea. He did need the job, though, and if all else, he wouldn’t mind the view, at least.
“Nah, I hear this one is fairly normal. She’s pretty and has stayed clear of the limelight so far. Shouldn’t be too much trouble for you,” said Diggle.
“Alright, I’ll do it,” answered Oliver. “When do I start?”
“Tonight, actually. Come by my apartment and I can get you the uniform and brief you on the job. You’ll be at a political gala, so be prepared.”
“Invisible but always there. Basically my job with special ops,” joked Oliver.
Diggle chuckled. “Come on over, Oliver. It’ll be good for you to get out.”
Oliver couldn’t argue with that. He really only had his sister Thea, who was busy at school and trying to run her own business. Too much had happened while he was gone during his five years overseas. He was grateful for Diggle, who had taken him under his wing during a group therapy session for veterans. Diggle had come back from active duty with PTSD, like Oliver. Fortunately for Oliver, Diggle had been back for a little bit longer and knew how to cope with civilian life and nightmares. Oliver couldn’t have asked for a better friend.
Oliver arrived at Diggle’s apartment later that day, and when Diggle handed him his uniform he immediately groaned. Black suit, white shirt, black tie.
“Really Diggle?” he asked, holding his suit up for further examination. “Isn’t it a bit...cliche?”
“It was either that or the black muscle shirt that makes you look like a bouncer at a nightclub. Come on, Oliver. It’s a politician’s daughter. This is what they gave me. I don’t make the rules.” He gave Oliver a strong pat on the back, and Oliver resigned himself to the uniform. He should be used to uniform by now. Just not this kind of uniform.
“Alright, brief me on the job.”
Diggle pulled out a manila file and handed it to Oliver. Oliver opened it, and his eyes opened wide.
“This is Felicity Smoak,” said Diggle, pointing at the gorgeous blonde woman in the picture. Her golden hair had been pulled back into a neat ponytail, glasses somehow not hiding the beauty of her blue eyes. And what he wouldn’t give to be near those gorgeous red lips of hers.
“Try not to drool too much; she’s your new job,” warned Diggle. He rolled his eyes at Oliver. Should have picked a job for him protecting some old man. “She’s twenty-two, recent MIT graduate. Rumor has it she’s working on starting her own cyber-security business.”
Oliver gulped, reigning in his thoughts. This is his job. Felicity. Protect Felicity. He flipped pages to a picture of an older man in a suit and a large smile.
“This is Miss Smoak’s father, Anthony Smoak. Republican. Overprotective, classic politician. Rumor has it that he has strong ties to Washington, even though he’s just on city council. He’s been working towards developing several economic bills that would either revolutionize Starling or destroy it. He’s reportedly received various threats, none of which held weight.” Diggle turned the page again. “And this is Donna Smoak, Felicity’s mother. Bit flighty for a politician’s wife. Humble beginnings, fell in love with a simple man who became a politician. Currently works as an interior designer. Any questions?”
Oliver nodded. “What am I doing tonight?”
Diggle flipped the file for Oliver. “You’re attending the political gala tonight. You’ll be meeting with the family beforehand to get acquainted. Mr. Smoak is now your boss. Do you understand?”
Oliver nodded. “Perfectly.”
“Suit up, Oliver. You have a gala to attend.”