"I need you to tutor my son, Ollie."

The words hang in the air as Felicity Smoak does her best not to pass out in the extremely comfortable chair that Mrs. Moira Queen had so graciously ushered her towards moments ago before fixing her with one of the most unnervingly steady stares she's ever received. Felicity coughs to break up the silence. "Um, I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" This is not how she imagined her life going when she got up this morning.

Mrs. Queen raises an eyebrow but obliges. "My son is having...difficulty in school. He's a bright boy but I'm afraid he's not applying himself as he should and his father and I are worried about his grades. He needs someone to...guide him back on track before he chooses a post secondary institution."

Felicity can't stop the words before they're tumbling out of her mouth. "Mrs. Queen, are his grades really going to stop him from getting into college?"

Mrs. Queen leans forward, seemingly unperturbed about Felicity's insinuation that they could just buy a spot for Oliver in any school. "You're forthright and honest. I can appreciate that. While many colleges and universities would be willing to overlook academic weakness in exchange for a generous donation-"

And that's why she didn't look bothered at the insinuation, Felicity thinks, in mild shock. Because it's true and she's planning on doing it.

"-most would shy away from a student who didn't even graduate. I hope you can understand the state of affairs we find ourselves in."

Felicity makes a little 'oh' sound. "I didn't realize it was so serious." How could she? What did she know of Oliver Queen besides that he's the most popular boy in school (and had been since he was a freshman), star quarterback for the football team and has a different girlfriend every two weeks (although he always seems to circle back to Laurel Lance at some point, not that she's checking, it's just that it's a thing that everyone at school knows; she's pretty sure they include it in freshman orientation at this point)? He doesn't seem the type to worry about a few bad grades. Or...all the bad grades, apparently.

"Fortunately, Ollie has come to see the danger of situation since his position on the football team is in jeopardy because of his academic performance. It's not ideal but I'll work with it."

Felicity shifts uncomfortably. "Mrs. Queen, not that I don't appreciate the offer because I do, really, but aren't there others who could help Oliver? I mean, what about Laurel Lance? She's doing well in school too." Felicity may be at the top of her class but she knows Laurel isn't far behind. Plus, considering the whole Lauriver (she's not sure whether to curse or laugh at Brangelina and tumblr for ship names {probably curse since now they're using them in school with the mundanes [although Oliver and Tommy and Laurel have never been the mundanes and wow, she has too many tangents going on in her own brain, bring it on back, girl]}) drama, Oliver might want a chance to get back with her.

Mrs. Queen gives her a thin smile. "Laurel and Ollie are...old friends. Since they are so young, those feelings are easily reawakened and that it's a distraction that Ollie cannot afford. He needs someone that can keep him on track. And it's unlikely that he would be distracted by you."

Her mouth falls open and she's not sure if she's offended or not. She knows the glasses and the rambling and the computer talk aren't the biggest turn-ons but she would like to think that someone would find them attractive at some point in her life. A small part of her brain notes that Mrs. Queen doesn't exactly sound happy about the thought of Oliver and Laurel getting back together though.

Mrs. Queen holds up a hand. "I apologize, I worded that badly. Ollie and Laurel, because of their shared history, fall all too easily into old patterns, especially when left unsupervised."

Felicity can just bet what sort of patterns those happen to be. Who can blame Laurel though? Who can blame Oliver?

"So, having Laurel as any sort of tutor is out of the question. You, however, are from all accounts, exceedingly intelligent, capable and driven. When I spoke to Superintendent Lance-"

"Wait," Felicity interrupts. "You got a recommendation from the superintendent?"

Mrs. Queen fixes her with a look and Felicity sinks down into the chair. Queen name, billions of dollars, right.

"As I was saying, when I spoke to the superintendent, your name came up immediately. You have an immensely bright future ahead of you that you seem determined to achieve and you don't have a history with my son that he can use to distract you. I hope that you can help him achieve his potential." Mrs. Queen looks at her expectantly.

Felicity bolts upright like she used to do when she knew the answer to the teacher's question. "Um, sure, yes, that would be nice. What areas does he need the most, er, help in achieving his potential?" What is she saying? Is she agreeing to this?

Mrs. Queen lets out a long suffering sigh. "All of them." And then a crooked smile. "Except football."

Felicity lets out a little laugh. "Oh, good, I'm not good at football. Or throwing things. Or catching. Or most physical activities. Running! I can do running pretty well." She mimes jogging with her hands until she sees that Mrs. Queen is staring at her again. "So, uh, I hate to be bourgeois but..."

Mrs. Queen smiles again. "Payment, of course. I have a contract here that lists the particulars." She slides a packet of papers across the desk and Felicity grabs it and tries not to think of it means to have a contract for some tutoring. Is it even legal for her to sign a contract as a minor? Probably not but Mrs. Queen doesn't seem to be the type to get hung up on technicalities. She bites her lip as she looks over the contract but she can't stop her eyes from bugging out when she sees the hourly wage.

"Mrs. Queen, um, this is very generous but-"

"As I said, you come highly recommended and Queens pay for quality," his mother interrupts smoothly. "We are also paying for your discretion in this matter."

"My discretion?" Felicity asks, somewhat confused. "You don't want anyone to know?"

"The press always has something to say about the Queen family and their activities. You understand."

God, this family is so weird. "Yeah, of course I understand. So, uh, this contract looks okay, I guess I can sign it?" She really hopes that there's not something weird that she's missing. Like she signing over her firstborn (she's not planning on having kids any time soon, of course or maybe at all? She's a teenager; she figures she gets some time to think on the subject but still. She doesn't think she should give up potential reproductive rights for a tutoring gig in high school. Maybe a shot working as director of IT at Wayne Enterprises? Nah, too small.) or they get a pint of blood if he fails a class or something.

"Excellent," Mrs. Queen smiles and slides a pen across. "If you would just sign the last page, I'll go get your student." She gets up and walks gracefully to the door. Just before opening it, she turns back to Felicity and smiles again. "Felicity, thank you for doing this. I know this will be an added pressure to your life but Robert and I appreciate your willingness to help."

Felicity manages to lift her lips in a semblance of a smile as Mrs. Queen leaves and then looks down at the contract. As she turns to the last page to sign, she suddenly desperately wishes she had worked more on her penmanship growing up. Her name looks bulky and awkward next to Moira Queen's smooth signature.

"Felicity? Your pupil is here." Mrs. Queen's says behind her.

Felicity stands up and turns so quickly she almost knocks the chair over. There he is, all six foot, blond haired, blue eyed Oliver Queen. He doesn't look particularly happy.

Oh boy.

She smooths her hair back, making sure it's secure in its ponytail before giving him a tentative smile. "Do you have a place where we can study?"

Oliver just quirks an eyebrow at her before slowly walking over to her. Felicity sucks in a breath and stands up straighter. He sticks a hand out to her. "Hi, I'm Oliver Queen and you are?"

Felicity feels her face flush from her hairline to her neck. Her mother would kill her for her lack of manners. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm Felicity Smoak." Oliver just looks at her before glancing down at his outstretched hand. "Oh, sorry!" she gasps before grabbing his hand. It envelopes hers and it's so warm she almost wonders if he has a fever. "I guess we don't have to work on manners. You've got that totally covered. You could probably teach me a thing or two, right? Forks on the left, knives on the right and all that. How do you do?" Oh god, why can't she stop talking?

His lips tilt upward. "Quite well, thank you," he says, his tone formal and polite and just short of teasing. "We can study in my room."

Felicity glances at Mrs. Queen but she doesn't seem to have any objection so Felicity just nods her head and grabs her bag. Ugh, she must really not be a distraction if his mom doesn't mind them studying alone in his room.

They walk out the door of the office when Mrs. Queen calls out and Oliver turns around. "Ollie, leave the door open. Might need to call you for dinner," she explains with a smile that Felicity is sure contains some sort of secret warning to her. Or him. Or both of them. Or not at all. Mrs. Queen is hard to read.

Oliver glances down at Felicity and her lips twist. "No shenanigans," she whispers. Oliver chuckles and nods to his mother before leading Felicity to another...wing? She's never been in a house that had an honest to goodness east wing before. She idly wonders if there's a crazy wife in the attic before dismissing her thoughts with a soft laugh.

Oliver's room is what she imagined it might be, not that she's imagined it. It's just that when your home is referred to as a mansion, there's a certain set of decorating guidelines that must come standard. It's huge but it's all dark wood and amber lighting. It's actually kind of cozy.

"Thanks, I think so too," Oliver says behind her.

Felicity closes her eyes for a moment. "I said that out loud, didn't I?" She turns, wincing. Oliver just grins and looks at her. She clears her throat and attempts to get some control back. "Is there a desk anywhere? We need to get started."

"Yeah, the desk is over here," he says, jerking his thumb towards one corner of the room. It's more of an Arthurian round table than a desk, she thinks but it'll do. She settles into one of the chairs and tries not to tense up when he sits right next to her. Of course it makes sense for him to sit there. They're here to study. No shenanigans.

Except he's leaning over very close to her, a soft smile on his face, eyes trained on her and his fingers are nudging hers.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Felicity almost doesn't recognize what he's doing since she never thought it would actually happen but she's pretty sure he's trying to put the whammy on her so he doesn't have to work. She hasn't even started tutoring and he's trying to wriggle out of here.

"What are you doing?" she says harshly.

"Just admiring a pretty face," he says, still smiling.

A pretty face. He can't even bother to make it personal. Awesome. "Bullshit," she snaps and tries not to look disappointed that he's already blowing her off. All at once the smile falls off his face and he looks at her warily which tells her she didn't succeed. "Stop it," she says firmly. "It's not going to work and it's kind of gross."

Oliver appears dumbfounded and she figures it's the first time anyone has called him gross. "Look, I was hired to help and that's what I'm going to do. Your parents would really like you to get through this year and graduate so let's just focus on that, okay?"

He looks down and pushes his chair away from her a bit. When he glances back up, she's surprised by how contrite he looks. "Sorry about that," he says.

Felicity takes a deep breath and lets it go. "It's fine. Okay, so, um, do you have your U.S. History book? Maybe we can start there," she offers. He nods once and leans over to grab the book out of his bag.

She can't help the little shriek when she sees the state of his book. "What happened?" she asks, grabbing at the textbook and holding it up for closer examination. The pages are torn and ripped and are those tire treads on the cover? She looks up at him in askance, bewildered at how someone could do this much damage to a book.

"I dropped it at my coffee shop," he says with the straightest face she's ever seen. It's sort of amazing.

"Really? Because these look like tire marks," she responds, pointing to the clear tread lines over George Washington's face. Ichabod Crane would be furious.

"It was a drive through." He's still just looking at her if he's going to will her to accept the worst lie she's ever heard. She bites her lip and tilts her head at him, disbelief screaming out of every pore of her body.

Oliver breaks out into a laugh. "Okay, okay, I may have run it over a couple of times."

Felicity rolls her eyes and huffs a little, trying not to wonder why he would run over a book, really, what would that accomplish. "Let's see the state of your chemistry book."

He waggles his eyebrows at her. "My chemistry is just fine."

She refuses to be charmed and holds out her hand. "Book, please." He hands it over and she makes a pleased noise. "Goodness, it's all in one piece so why don't we start here? What's the last thing you remember doing in chemistry?"

"Hydrogen," he says promptly.

"What?"

"Hydrogen is the first atom," he repeats, his eyes utterly guileless.

Felicity stares.