Technical Assistance

Chapter 24: Computer Refurbishment

She breathes a sigh of relief.  "Well, I'm sorry I blew it, Oliver."  She motions to her computer screen.  "I blame report tickets."

He waves a hand, biting back a laugh.  "You're doing a favor for me, Felicity," he answers.  "I'm glad you have time to help at all.  You seem busy."  He reaches out hesitantly, his expression turning serious, to touch a shadow under her eye that she didn't take time to cover this morning.  "And tired."  He tilts his head to the side.  "Maybe you should take some vacation time."

She scoffs, leaning back.  "And leave this office for a few days?"  She crosses her arms.  "I don't think so, mister.  By the time I came back, it would be up in flames without me."  And she doesn't exactly know where she'd go on vacation; it's never very fun alone, and she has to be on-call for the Arrow.  "Besides, if I left the city for a week, I think it would crumble without me here."  She manages to say it jokingly, but she doesn't think it's exactly a lie.

"It probably would," Oliver agrees, and she's surprised to find it a sincere statement.  "But that doesn't mean you don't deserve some time off every now and again."  With a knowing smile, he adds, "I'm sure your boss would understand.  If not, I think I know someone who could convince him."

She points a finger at him.  "Don't you dare," she threatens.  "I know you already convinced my boss to give me time off during that press conference, and you are not allowed to do it again."  He chuckles, and something in his expression tells her that he's going to ignore her and do what he wants anyway.  "You, Oliver Queen, are absolutely impossible."

He seems to take it as a compliment, smiling and allowing a breathy almost-laugh.  "I'm not the one who thinks the city will crumble without them," he counters almost playfully, and she's glad to see this side of him.

She crosses her arms, not backing down from their silly argument.  "Clearly spoken by someone with no responsibility whatsoever," she replies after swallowing another bite of pasta.  "I can't help it if it's true.  Do you realize what kind of city Starling would be without me?"

"Cold, desolate, and unforgiving," he replies immediately, and his tone is far different this time.  Felicity has to look away because some things just shouldn't be said with that intensity, with that level of honesty.  She plunges her fork into another bite of pasta, focusing far more than necessary on it.

He clears his throat, and the moment passes.  "Maybe," he starts hesitantly, "while you're eating, I can help remove the casing?"  He motions to the laptop.  "I might as well make myself useful."

She thinks about it for a moment, then decides that, if he wants to help, who is she to say no?  She pulls open one of her desk drawers, throwing him a Philips screwdriver.  "Knock yourself out," she replies, then adds, "but not really."  It earns her another soft laugh as he picks up the screwdriver carefully, turning over the computer to remove the screws.

She watches him carefully since she figures he's never done this before, and she winces when she watches him hold the screwdriver like a toddler holding a crayon; he wraps his entire hand around it, leaving the base uncovered.  He turns when she groans, and she answers with, "No, Oliver.  No.  You're holding it wrong."  She slips it out of his hand, and she presses the end of the handle into his palm, curling his fingers around it.  "Like this.  It's easier to twist in your hand—saves time."  He doesn't immediately say anything, and she looks up to see him staring at their hands, hers still firmly gripped over his.

She pulls back immediately, and she can feel the heat on her face that betrays her embarrassment.  "Sorry,” she says, turning back to her pasta, taking one last bite before pulling the new casing out from under her desk and opening the packaging.