Chlollie Fanfic: Love for Realsies, Chapter 4
I lied.
I stayed up all night and worked on my Chlollie, so here's Chapter 4 of Love for Realsies.
Enjoy!
Title: Love for Realsies
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17. (this chapter PG13) Sequel to Just for Funsies.
Warnings: None for this chapter
Timeline: Season 9 (Conspiracy)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe finds it increasingly impossible to resist Ollie’s affections.
Feedback: …is a terrible thing to keep to yourself. J
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 4
Oliver yawned and stretched, then opened his eyes gingerly. His curtains were drawn, but a sliver of early morning sunlight was streaming through a small crack in the curtains, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes, his mind on the previous night.
He glanced at the other side of the bed where Chloe had slept. The only evidence of her having spent the night was the slight impression of her small frame and the rumpled sheets. In her place was a folded note with his name scrawled on it. Frowning, he unfolded the paper and held it up so that the beam of sunlight fell directly on it.
Just popped out to the ‘store’. See you soon.
- Chloe.
Oliver’s frown deepened. From her wording, she definitely hadn’t strolled over to the supermarket. Well, at least she was being honest about her movements now.
Quickly he scrambled out of bed and got dressed, hoping to catch her up before she got to the underpass.
***
Chloe got off the bus, and after a quick glance in all directions to make sure she wasn’t being followed, made her way towards the container with the weapons stored in them.
Just as she rounded the corner of a nearby derelict container, she heard voices raised in an argument coming from the direction of her own container. Quickly she retreated into the shadows, then peered cautiously round the edge.
Her eyes widened and her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she saw who it was.
Tess Mercer. And she looked pissed.
She and one of her lackeys were arguing in front of her opened container…and all the weapons that had been in there mere hours earlier had been totally cleaned out.
“Miss Mercer, I…I showed you the pictures,” the lackey was saying desperately. “Those crates were in this container, hundreds of them!”
“Well, clearly they’re not here now,” Tess pointed out stonily. “You wanted a higher pay grade, Lencock; prove to me you’re worth it.”
Chloe gave a quiet sigh of relief. It looked like Tess was still unaware of what the missing funds were being used for. Which presented her with a whole new set of problems: where were her weapons, and who had moved them?
She peeped out again and saw Tess stalking back to the car, practically shaking with fury. “Whatever they’re spending that money on, you find it!” she screeched.
She got into the car and slammed the door, and the hapless Lencock slunk into the driver’s seat and drove away. Staying in the shadows, Chloe waited till they were out of sight before walking towards her empty crate, feeling empty and hollow herself.
All her hard work; thwarted. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I figured Tess was up to something when she gave me the tip about all the money that you, um…‘borrowed,’” drawled a familiar voice behind her, startling her. “…so I moved your stockpile.”
She sighed in relief as Oliver came and stood in front of her. “Quick thinking, thanks.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome.”
She looked up at his tousled blond head, and realised he must have gotten straight out of bed and followed her. At the thought of Oliver and bed in the same sentence, her insides tingled and she struggled to keep her mind on topic.
“So, what other dirty tricks do you think the amazing Mercer has up her sleeve?” she asked causally.
“It’s too soon to tell,” he admitted. “But Clark saw a future that we want to run away from. Unfortunately, Tess saw the same future, and maybe she wants to take us there, just like she did with Doomsday.”
“Which is why we need those weapons now more than ever,” she mused. “Where’d you put them?”
He gave her a hard stare. “They’re in a safe place.”
So he was still punishing her for keeping secrets from him. She had to admit that being on the receiving end of his mistrust stung, and stung bad. “Are you keeping me in the dark because I lied to you?” she asked timidly.
He sighed. “You started this, Chloe. And you can’t have one set of rules for yourself and a whole other set of rules for everyone else.”
“I wasn’t trying to be evasive or secretive, Oliver,” she explained. “But Clark’s in the Kandorian family now, and I don’t want to let his loyalties lead us into another Doomsday scenario.”
“Neither do I,” he said seriously. “And I do understand why you did what you did, Chloe. I just wish you’d trusted me. After all, I know what it is you’re trying to avoid.”
“I know that now,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
He gave her a half smile. “Apology accepted.”
“So…do you really think we should tell Clark everything?” she ventured.
“Absolutely.”
Her heart sank. If Clark hated her before, he would probably detest her for life once he found out about this.
“But only when the time is right,” Oliver finished. “I’m not naïve, Chloe. I know we need to play this one close to the chest where Clark’s concerned.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Oliver.”
He held out a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go back to mine and get some breakfast, and then I can drop you off at Watchtower if you want.”
“Victor’s all done?” she asked, taking his hand and walking back to the car with him.
“Yup. He found seven more bugs, one of which was in the bathroom.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That’s disgusting.”
He shrugged. “Well, Tess is desperate to know what we’re planning.”
“Actually, I was thinking of the fact that she’s heard, and quite possibly seen us having sex in the bathroom - and everywhere else, for that matter.”
Oliver stopped and stared at her.
“Now that really is disgusting,” he said, making a wry face. “I can only hope she’s not into sex tapes.”
***
Just over an hour later, they were enjoying light conversation in the Clocktower kitchen while Oliver prepared a cooked breakfast for them. Chloe had issued a disclaimer that cooking was not one of her special skills, so Oliver had passed her a bowl of oranges and told her to get squeezing.
“Don’t tell me this fancy chrome kitchen hasn’t got a hi-tech juicer in it somewhere,” she said as she sliced the oranges into halves.
“It has two,” he confessed as he beat the eggs with a whisk, “along with about three hi-speed food processors. But there’s nothing quite like the personal touch when you’re preparing a meal for yourself and a…companion,” he finished, choking back the words ‘loved one’ at the last second.
She raised a brow. “And where did you learn that little nugget of information?” she queried.
“My nonna,” he said, pouring the beaten eggs into a frying pan and folding the ingredients into it. “She’s the family housekeeper, cook, nanny…you name it, she did it. But being Italian, she loved to cook most of all.”
“Where is she, Star City?” she asked, interested to hear some personal details of Ollie’s childhood.
He shook his head. “No, she’s retired now, and moved back to Tuscany, but we still keep in touch. She taught me everything I know about cooking.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one,” she mused. “Growing up with a dad as a single parent meant take-out was our daily cuisine of choice. The pile of recyclable cartons outside the house every Friday was an embarrassment.”
“Maybe,” he said softly, “but at least you had your Dad with you.”
Chloe felt like slapping herself for her careless words. There was nothing ‘lucky’ about losing both parents when you were barely in your teens, no matter what support system was on hand to pick up the pieces. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching over to lay her hand on his.
He squeezed her fingers and smiled at her. “It was a long time ago.”
They stared into each other’s eyes until the sizzling from the pan indicated the quiche needed turning.
“So where’s your Dad now?” he asked, focusing on the food. “You don’t talk about him much.”
“Living in Wisconsin with his girlfriend Jacqueline, and her two kids,” she said stoically, squeezing the oranges on an old-fashioned juicer. “He writes on occasion, but he’s never asked me out to visit.”
Oliver frowned. “Doesn’t he want to spend time with you?” he asked, concerned. “You’re his only child, after all.”
She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “A child who’s a living reminder that he’s a married man,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s a complicated situation; Mom’s alive, but not really there, and he can’t be expected to live like a monk for the rest of his life.”
“That may be, but his current relationship should have no bearing on how he feels about you,” he argued. “You’re his daughter, for crying out loud.”
She sighed. “I guess my presence would make him uncomfortable; be like a hard dose of reality in the fantasy bubble he’s created.”
Oliver shook his head. “That’s no excuse for abandoning you,” he said sternly. “What kind of person does that to his own child?”
She gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and shrugged. “Story of my life, really. Everyone I love, I lose.” She squeezed the last orange and busied herself with wiping the surfaces down and tidying up the leftover skins.
As soon as she’d bagged and binned the peels and pips, she straightened and turned back towards the counter. Suddenly she found herself enveloped in a warm hug, Oliver’s strong arms holding her close and stroking her back tenderly.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” he whispered into her hair. “You won’t lose me.”
She closed her eyes and drew in the fresh, woodsy scent of him. She desperately wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, but the warning bells went off in her head and she managed to keep them pinned to her sides.
“I know, Oliver,” she said softly. She leaned back and smiled up at him. “I won’t lose you because I’m not in love with you.”
His arms loosened almost imperceptibly around her and she took advantage of it to step out of his embrace.
“Right,” she said, lifting her jug of freshly squeezed orange juice. “I’m starving. When do I get to try out nonna’s famous quiche lorraine?”
***
Oliver managed to make small talk all through breakfast, but her piercing words were never far from his mind.
Initially her statement that she didn’t love him had lanced him painfully, because he’d only just accepted how he really felt about her. He loved her, plain and simple. He couldn’t say exactly how or when it had happened, but he knew, as he’d drifted into sleep yesterday, that the woman with her arms around him was one he wanted for keeps. And he knew, despite her blunt assertion, that she had feelings for him, too. Maybe not as fully developed as his own for her…but they were there. She was just too afraid to own up to them and accept them. And now he knew why.
From what he could tell, Chloe Sullivan had loved exactly three men in her life: her father Gabe, Jimmy Olsen, and Clark Kent.
One of them had died a violent death in front of her after what could only be described as a tumultuous relationship. The other two had simply turned their backs on her and walked away.
No wonder she was terrified of intimacy. In her mind, love and pain went hand in hand, and he now realised why a no-strings relationship was all she’d ever wanted from him.
As long as you promise not to get all mushy on me down the line, she’d said sternly. Well, it was too late for that now. He loved her. And he knew that she wasn’t far behind; he just had to get her to acknowledge and accept what she was feeling. An uphill task, to be sure; but not an impossible one.
He looked at her across the table and smiled as she told her witty anecdotes and enjoyed her meal. Lifting his orange juice glass, he clinked it against hers.
“Cheers,” he said brightly.
“Cheers,” she replied.
Oliver grinned and took a long, cool sip.
Operation Woo Chloe was officially underway.
***
Chapter 5…
I stayed up all night and worked on my Chlollie, so here's Chapter 4 of Love for Realsies.
Enjoy!
Title: Love for Realsies
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: NC-17. (this chapter PG13) Sequel to Just for Funsies.
Warnings: None for this chapter
Timeline: Season 9 (Conspiracy)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe finds it increasingly impossible to resist Ollie’s affections.
Feedback: …is a terrible thing to keep to yourself. J
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 4
Oliver yawned and stretched, then opened his eyes gingerly. His curtains were drawn, but a sliver of early morning sunlight was streaming through a small crack in the curtains, and he sat up and rubbed his eyes, his mind on the previous night.
He glanced at the other side of the bed where Chloe had slept. The only evidence of her having spent the night was the slight impression of her small frame and the rumpled sheets. In her place was a folded note with his name scrawled on it. Frowning, he unfolded the paper and held it up so that the beam of sunlight fell directly on it.
Just popped out to the ‘store’. See you soon.
- Chloe.
Oliver’s frown deepened. From her wording, she definitely hadn’t strolled over to the supermarket. Well, at least she was being honest about her movements now.
Quickly he scrambled out of bed and got dressed, hoping to catch her up before she got to the underpass.
***
Chloe got off the bus, and after a quick glance in all directions to make sure she wasn’t being followed, made her way towards the container with the weapons stored in them.
Just as she rounded the corner of a nearby derelict container, she heard voices raised in an argument coming from the direction of her own container. Quickly she retreated into the shadows, then peered cautiously round the edge.
Her eyes widened and her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she saw who it was.
Tess Mercer. And she looked pissed.
She and one of her lackeys were arguing in front of her opened container…and all the weapons that had been in there mere hours earlier had been totally cleaned out.
“Miss Mercer, I…I showed you the pictures,” the lackey was saying desperately. “Those crates were in this container, hundreds of them!”
“Well, clearly they’re not here now,” Tess pointed out stonily. “You wanted a higher pay grade, Lencock; prove to me you’re worth it.”
Chloe gave a quiet sigh of relief. It looked like Tess was still unaware of what the missing funds were being used for. Which presented her with a whole new set of problems: where were her weapons, and who had moved them?
She peeped out again and saw Tess stalking back to the car, practically shaking with fury. “Whatever they’re spending that money on, you find it!” she screeched.
She got into the car and slammed the door, and the hapless Lencock slunk into the driver’s seat and drove away. Staying in the shadows, Chloe waited till they were out of sight before walking towards her empty crate, feeling empty and hollow herself.
All her hard work; thwarted. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“I figured Tess was up to something when she gave me the tip about all the money that you, um…‘borrowed,’” drawled a familiar voice behind her, startling her. “…so I moved your stockpile.”
She sighed in relief as Oliver came and stood in front of her. “Quick thinking, thanks.”
He nodded in acknowledgement. “You’re welcome.”
She looked up at his tousled blond head, and realised he must have gotten straight out of bed and followed her. At the thought of Oliver and bed in the same sentence, her insides tingled and she struggled to keep her mind on topic.
“So, what other dirty tricks do you think the amazing Mercer has up her sleeve?” she asked causally.
“It’s too soon to tell,” he admitted. “But Clark saw a future that we want to run away from. Unfortunately, Tess saw the same future, and maybe she wants to take us there, just like she did with Doomsday.”
“Which is why we need those weapons now more than ever,” she mused. “Where’d you put them?”
He gave her a hard stare. “They’re in a safe place.”
So he was still punishing her for keeping secrets from him. She had to admit that being on the receiving end of his mistrust stung, and stung bad. “Are you keeping me in the dark because I lied to you?” she asked timidly.
He sighed. “You started this, Chloe. And you can’t have one set of rules for yourself and a whole other set of rules for everyone else.”
“I wasn’t trying to be evasive or secretive, Oliver,” she explained. “But Clark’s in the Kandorian family now, and I don’t want to let his loyalties lead us into another Doomsday scenario.”
“Neither do I,” he said seriously. “And I do understand why you did what you did, Chloe. I just wish you’d trusted me. After all, I know what it is you’re trying to avoid.”
“I know that now,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
He gave her a half smile. “Apology accepted.”
“So…do you really think we should tell Clark everything?” she ventured.
“Absolutely.”
Her heart sank. If Clark hated her before, he would probably detest her for life once he found out about this.
“But only when the time is right,” Oliver finished. “I’m not naïve, Chloe. I know we need to play this one close to the chest where Clark’s concerned.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Oliver.”
He held out a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go back to mine and get some breakfast, and then I can drop you off at Watchtower if you want.”
“Victor’s all done?” she asked, taking his hand and walking back to the car with him.
“Yup. He found seven more bugs, one of which was in the bathroom.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That’s disgusting.”
He shrugged. “Well, Tess is desperate to know what we’re planning.”
“Actually, I was thinking of the fact that she’s heard, and quite possibly seen us having sex in the bathroom - and everywhere else, for that matter.”
Oliver stopped and stared at her.
“Now that really is disgusting,” he said, making a wry face. “I can only hope she’s not into sex tapes.”
***
Just over an hour later, they were enjoying light conversation in the Clocktower kitchen while Oliver prepared a cooked breakfast for them. Chloe had issued a disclaimer that cooking was not one of her special skills, so Oliver had passed her a bowl of oranges and told her to get squeezing.
“Don’t tell me this fancy chrome kitchen hasn’t got a hi-tech juicer in it somewhere,” she said as she sliced the oranges into halves.
“It has two,” he confessed as he beat the eggs with a whisk, “along with about three hi-speed food processors. But there’s nothing quite like the personal touch when you’re preparing a meal for yourself and a…companion,” he finished, choking back the words ‘loved one’ at the last second.
She raised a brow. “And where did you learn that little nugget of information?” she queried.
“My nonna,” he said, pouring the beaten eggs into a frying pan and folding the ingredients into it. “She’s the family housekeeper, cook, nanny…you name it, she did it. But being Italian, she loved to cook most of all.”
“Where is she, Star City?” she asked, interested to hear some personal details of Ollie’s childhood.
He shook his head. “No, she’s retired now, and moved back to Tuscany, but we still keep in touch. She taught me everything I know about cooking.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one,” she mused. “Growing up with a dad as a single parent meant take-out was our daily cuisine of choice. The pile of recyclable cartons outside the house every Friday was an embarrassment.”
“Maybe,” he said softly, “but at least you had your Dad with you.”
Chloe felt like slapping herself for her careless words. There was nothing ‘lucky’ about losing both parents when you were barely in your teens, no matter what support system was on hand to pick up the pieces. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching over to lay her hand on his.
He squeezed her fingers and smiled at her. “It was a long time ago.”
They stared into each other’s eyes until the sizzling from the pan indicated the quiche needed turning.
“So where’s your Dad now?” he asked, focusing on the food. “You don’t talk about him much.”
“Living in Wisconsin with his girlfriend Jacqueline, and her two kids,” she said stoically, squeezing the oranges on an old-fashioned juicer. “He writes on occasion, but he’s never asked me out to visit.”
Oliver frowned. “Doesn’t he want to spend time with you?” he asked, concerned. “You’re his only child, after all.”
She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “A child who’s a living reminder that he’s a married man,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s a complicated situation; Mom’s alive, but not really there, and he can’t be expected to live like a monk for the rest of his life.”
“That may be, but his current relationship should have no bearing on how he feels about you,” he argued. “You’re his daughter, for crying out loud.”
She sighed. “I guess my presence would make him uncomfortable; be like a hard dose of reality in the fantasy bubble he’s created.”
Oliver shook his head. “That’s no excuse for abandoning you,” he said sternly. “What kind of person does that to his own child?”
She gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and shrugged. “Story of my life, really. Everyone I love, I lose.” She squeezed the last orange and busied herself with wiping the surfaces down and tidying up the leftover skins.
As soon as she’d bagged and binned the peels and pips, she straightened and turned back towards the counter. Suddenly she found herself enveloped in a warm hug, Oliver’s strong arms holding her close and stroking her back tenderly.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” he whispered into her hair. “You won’t lose me.”
She closed her eyes and drew in the fresh, woodsy scent of him. She desperately wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, but the warning bells went off in her head and she managed to keep them pinned to her sides.
“I know, Oliver,” she said softly. She leaned back and smiled up at him. “I won’t lose you because I’m not in love with you.”
His arms loosened almost imperceptibly around her and she took advantage of it to step out of his embrace.
“Right,” she said, lifting her jug of freshly squeezed orange juice. “I’m starving. When do I get to try out nonna’s famous quiche lorraine?”
***
Oliver managed to make small talk all through breakfast, but her piercing words were never far from his mind.
Initially her statement that she didn’t love him had lanced him painfully, because he’d only just accepted how he really felt about her. He loved her, plain and simple. He couldn’t say exactly how or when it had happened, but he knew, as he’d drifted into sleep yesterday, that the woman with her arms around him was one he wanted for keeps. And he knew, despite her blunt assertion, that she had feelings for him, too. Maybe not as fully developed as his own for her…but they were there. She was just too afraid to own up to them and accept them. And now he knew why.
From what he could tell, Chloe Sullivan had loved exactly three men in her life: her father Gabe, Jimmy Olsen, and Clark Kent.
One of them had died a violent death in front of her after what could only be described as a tumultuous relationship. The other two had simply turned their backs on her and walked away.
No wonder she was terrified of intimacy. In her mind, love and pain went hand in hand, and he now realised why a no-strings relationship was all she’d ever wanted from him.
As long as you promise not to get all mushy on me down the line, she’d said sternly. Well, it was too late for that now. He loved her. And he knew that she wasn’t far behind; he just had to get her to acknowledge and accept what she was feeling. An uphill task, to be sure; but not an impossible one.
He looked at her across the table and smiled as she told her witty anecdotes and enjoyed her meal. Lifting his orange juice glass, he clinked it against hers.
“Cheers,” he said brightly.
“Cheers,” she replied.
Oliver grinned and took a long, cool sip.
Operation Woo Chloe was officially underway.
***
Chapter 5…