The Exception to the Rules
Part 12: Better to Have Furballs than Nothing At All
“So tell me again how you totally blew your cover and yelled at the guy,” Oliver requested dryly as he and Chloe marched through the back ways of the Metropolis Grand, en route to the hotel’s underground parking facility.
“Cause that’s my favourite part.”
Clinging to his arm and practically running to keep up with his hurried strides, Chloe shot him a look of contempt.
After filling him in on her surprising encounter out on the balcony, they’d immediately begun trying to extricate themselves from the gala so they could get back to the penthouse and thoroughly investigate this latest development. Of course, leaving the party had proved as mind-numbing as entering it, given that Oliver was required to take yet another tour about the room to offer his guests thanks and farewells. While Chloe had found the first time around tedious, the second lap was pure torture as the same people said the same things, one after another. She’d been seriously contemplating drowning herself in one of the elaborate champagne fountains when Oliver had suddenly hustled her through an emergency exit and, forgoing the main staircase and the paparazzi riddled front doors, began leading her through the Grand’s service hallways with familiar ease.
“I already admitted that it wasn’t one of my finer moments, okay?” She snapped resentfully. “So how about we let it go and focus on the fact that my buddy from the warehouse was here, sporting the same kind of Men in Black knock off as the rest of your company’s security team.”
When she’d first hinted that one of his security guard’s was apparently moonlighting for the Wynlie Group, she hadn’t missed the dark look that had crossed his face. Being Oliver though, he’d managed to quickly school his features and skate right over the disconcerting detail, choosing instead to keep up the rapid fire questioning he’d been subjecting her to as he attempted to get the full scope of the situation. Now, however, she’d graduated to full-out implying that something was amiss within his organization and if the very visible ticking along his jaw was anything to go by, she was fairly sure he wasn’t going to be able to gloss over the issue quite so casually this time.
“They wear non-descript, black suits,” he ground out bitingly. “Not exactly hard to get your hands on one of those.”
“Granted,” Chloe pressed, her feet nearly sliding out from under her as Oliver cut a sharp right to take them down yet another endless hallway, “but he checked in with someone on his earpiece. He was working this event.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Oliver argued disdainfully, earning an equally condescending look from Chloe.
“That’s exactly what I’m sure of,” she corrected pointedly. “What we need to do is crack open your personnel files and see what’s what.”
“You want me to investigate my own people?” He balked, clearly offended.
“Yes, yes I do,” she shot back, eyeing him reproachfully. “Which wouldn’t be such a big deal if you’d stop acting like this was a criticism of you for one second. Queen Industries employs tons of people. It stands to reason that, perhaps, one of them is colouring outside the lines.”
“It’s my company,” he replied lowly, his eyes levelling her with a stony gaze, “and the fact that you think it could be corrupt - even just a bit - is something I take very personally.”
Fed up with effort it took to simultaneously wage war on his stubbornness and sprint to keep up with him, Chloe planted her stilettos and let her free hand join the one she already had on his arm, effectively throwing him off his anger pace with one mighty yank.
“What the hell?” He cursed as he spun around to face her, his expression hard.
“You’re being stupid and it doesn’t suit you,” she bit out tersely, his anger hardly a deterrent in her mind.
“Watch it,” he warned her gravely.
“Or what?” She fired back. “Do you think I’m bringing this up to spite you? Is that what you think of me?”
Something inscrutable passed over his face, but before she could identify it, he was raking a hand roughly through his hair and his eyes were avoiding hers, choosing instead to focus on the blank wall past her.
“The idea of my house being out of order doesn’t sit well with me,” he admitted tensely, the anger he’d been directing at her changing course to zero back in on himself.
“And I don’t blame you for that,” she offered kindly, reaching out to poke her index finger gently into his abs until he finally looked at her once again. “Just stop aiming those arrows of yours at the messenger.”
The cheesy line dragged the smallest of smirks out of him and its reappearance on his lips lifted a weight off of her that she hadn’t realized she’d been shouldering.
“I’ll gladly be proven wrong, but only after we’re sure,” she promised him, the finger she had pressed against his side sliding absently along to hook into his jacket pocket and hang there. “Until then, I’m not going to let you turn a blind eye to this.”
He nodded slowly, knowing she was right, but still reluctant to give way to her suspicions.
“I just have a really hard time thinking anything like this could be going on,” he explained quietly. “My head of security runs a tight ship. Something like this could never get by him.”
The disgusted snort was out of her before she had any chance of stopping it.
“What was that?” He asked, a deep frown spreading across his brow.
“Nothing,” she answered automatically, her cheeks colouring as she released her loose hold on his jacket and tried to wave away her gaffe. Leave it to her to renew a fight just as soon as she’d managed to broker a little peace.
“Then why the weird face?” Oliver inquired, his eyes narrowing.
“What face?” Chloe quipped, her finger circling the very features in question.
“This is the only one I have.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agreed, “and it did something weird when I mentioned my head of security.”
“It’s nothing,” Chloe repeated, trying to stave off his interrogation, but he continued to eye her doubtfully.
Releasing a cranky growl, she gave up and allowed herself to be defeated by his scrutiny.
“Your security guy, Mitchell Edwards, I met him and he’s a jerk, okay?” She blurted out. “He came up to me while you were giving your speech and laid the third degree on me, asking about my intentions, or whatever, and telling me how corporate espionage isn’t just for the movies, blah, blah, blah.”
“Really?” Oliver checked, his surprise evident.
“That’s why I went out to the balcony in the first place,” she explained. “He was being weird. Not to mention rude and kinda creepy.”
“Mitchell’s never been the most subtle guy,” he allowed slowly, “but that’s a little blunt, even for him.”
“Yeah, well,” she quipped carelessly, “have fun trying to get a girlfriend with him playing chaperone.”
Oliver eyed her strangely.
“Who says I’m looking for a girlfriend?” He asked curiously.
She had intended for the remark to be just another shining example of the banter they were always flinging at each other, but even she had to admit that as far as zingers went, it had pretty much come right out of left field. As if that wasn’t enough, the odd look he was pinning her with got this weird little voice in the back of her brain going, badgering her incessantly to ask him if his comment was meant for the female population in general, or her specifically. Shaking her head to shut up her trouble making thoughts, she grabbed at her skirt and moved around him, continuing down the hall despite the fact that she didn’t know the way to the garage.
“We’re getting off-topic,” she deflected as she stepped quickly. “We need to get back to the penthouse, see if the guys came up with anything during their outing, and start screening your security operation.”
“Chloe,” he called after her, still standing in the same spot she’d left him in.
“This isn’t the time to get into this,” she tossed over her shoulder, unhappy with the unsettled feeling his question had produced within her.
“Get into what?” He called again. “I’m just trying to tell you that we need to take these stairs.”
She tripped to a stop and turned to find him holding open a door that she hadn’t even noticed. Blaming the dress and the party and the dancing for messing with her head and throwing her off her game, she returned to his side with a red face and passed through the exit without looking at him, quickly picking the metal railing that ran down the wall to support her instead of his offered arm.
Their steps echoed noisily around the hollow stairwell as they descended flight after flight, neither one even attempting to speak over the foreign divide that seemed to have suddenly sprung up between them. Eyes glued in front of her feet, Chloe tried to jostle aside the strange foolishness that was gnawing at her uncomfortably. She knew she should write off the whole girlfriend exchange and never give it a second thought, but something about his words left her struggling to figure out what he meant and the fact that she couldn’t let it go was only adding to her rattled state.
“I can tell that we’re not talking,” Oliver announced from behind her, his genuinely puzzled voice breaking their stalemate and carrying easily thanks to the surrounding acoustics. “Thing is though, I’m not really sure why…I thought we ended our argument.”
“We did,” she answered simply, telling herself that she couldn’t look back at him because she was scared she would trip. “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of that tonight,” he noted cautiously.
“I think all the time Oliver,” she chided as she reached up and tapped the side of her head. “It’s always busy in here.”
“I know, but you’re usually pretty good about multi-tasking while you do it,” he pointed out observantly. “It makes me wonder what could possibly be so fascinating that it takes up all of your attention.”
She paused, mid-step, wondering what he was getting at as apprehension mixed in with the foolishness she already felt and her anxiety jumped from mild to catastrophic.
“What do you mean?” She asked carefully, looking up at him for the first time since they’d left the hallway however many floors above them.
He face was contemplative as he moved to her side, watching her with worried eyes.
“I know I don’t have any experience in this area,” he began earnestly, his statement quickly drawing a confused frown from her.
“I also know that you don’t just pour yourself out when it comes to this sort of stuff,” he continued, “but if you need to talk, I’ll listen to every word. I may just be some guy you know, but I’ll listen.”
Her bewilderment absolute, she could only stare at him quizzically until his meaning dropped down on top of her like a city bus from at least five storeys up.
He was talking about her divorce.
While she was busily reminding herself not to go and get all attracted to him, he was worried about the trauma she was supposed to be enduring due to the very recent dissolution of her marriage. Eyes sliding shut wearily, she marvelled at the fact that Jimmy hadn’t dumped her long before because lately, she seemed to be stumbling over one example after another of just what a horrible wife she must have been.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Oliver murmured, his hand sliding apologetically over her arm. “I know you want to work and keep your mind off of all of this, but maybe you should be taking time for yourself.”
“No, no,” she stuttered her hand waving away the concern. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” He asked, the soothing touch on her arm drifting down to take her hand and hold it supportively.
“You shouldn’t be so nice to me,” she told him with a miserable laugh. “I don’t deserve it.”
“What?” He questioned, taking his turn to be confused.
“The whole divorce really isn’t bothering me as much as it probably should,” she admitted shamefully. “If I’m feeling anything, it’s more embarrassment over the fact that it was such a spectacular failure than any kind of heartbreak over losing Jimmy.”
Her confession finally voiced, she released a painful breath and let the guilt swallow her whole.
“God,” she muttered, raising her free hand to cover her eyes, “that sounded even worse out loud than it did in my head.”
She could feel his hand at her wrist, pulling her arm away from her face as he stooped to meet her mournful stare.
“You’re not an awful person,” he assured her.
“Aren’t I though?” She argued lamely. “I mean, how did I let it get this far? What was I thinking?”
“You wanted to be happy,” he remarked knowingly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“He deserved better,” she declared dejectedly.
“Not better,” he corrected, squeezing her hands, “just somebody who’s right for him.”
She sighed deeply, trying to let his words seep in past her guilt so that the hopeful part of her that was hollering out in agreement stood a chance. Ever since Jimmy bitterly labelled them over, she had willingly accepted the blame for the destruction of their marriage, figuring her self-recriminations were fair penance for completely screwing up something she was supposed to love. In her own, messed up way, she actually found it easier to cast herself as the bad guy than admit that she really didn’t break her and Jimmy. They never truly fit to begin with.
“Don’t be mad at me for saying this,” he requested gently, breaking through her deliberating. “But I never really understood how you planned on making it work. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Jimmy always struck me as a good guy who really cared about you, but how were you going to deal with all the secrets?”
“I guess I just thought it would figure itself out,” she answered feebly, the response - like so many other things - coming across as utterly ridiculous when she heard it out loud.
“I know it sounds stupid,” she added self-consciously, “but all that stuff always managed to sort itself out before, so guess I just thought it would keep going that way.”
“Did you ever consider telling him about your extracurricular activities?” He asked carefully, his tone devoid of any accusation.
“No,” she replied resolutely, without a single shred of hesitation.
Oliver eyed her meaningfully.
“Had you ever thought that you could just give it all up, walk away from the double life and live just one with him?”
“No,” she repeated, this time quietly, resigned to this revelation.
“I know that feeling way too well,” he confided softly as he tugged her hand and encouraged her to resume their trek down the stairs.
“You and me,” he continued, gesturing between them with his free hand, “we’re the type that run towards the burning building instead of away from it, even though we don’t have any fancy powers to help us out. Not everybody can understand that.”
“So, what you’re saying is that we’re idiots,” Chloe noted weakly, unable to resist.
“Yes,” Oliver agreed with a boyish grin. “We’re idiots and we can't just sit back and live the life that works for everybody else. We’re never going to be able to settle into that.”
“Is this your way of telling me I should start buying some cats?” She asked, his words striking a chord deep within her and bringing her - and her banter - back to life.
“Cats are nasty,” he scowled disapprovingly. “Mean little buggers.”
“Well, I’d rather have furballs than nothing at all,” she joked.
“You’re not going to end up alone,” he told her confidently as they finally reached the bottom level and pushed their way through the heavy metal doors that lead to the hotel’s garage.
“Bart will wear you down long before that ever happens.”
The laugh that burst out of her was desperately needed and felt wonderful. Smiling up at him through her chuckles, she could tell by his answering smile that a thank you wasn’t necessary.
Seeing Paul and the limo waiting for them patiently, they made their way over to the vehicle just as Oliver’s cell began ringing in his pocket. He pulled out the device and grinned as he took in the familiar number that flashed upon the display screen.
“Speak of the devil,” he mused as he pulled the door open for her.
“Bart?” She ventured as she accepted his help into the car and scooted over for him to follow her in.
“Naturally,” he smirked as he slid into his seat, flipped the phone open and raised it to his ear.
“How did it go?” He asked without greeting, motioning to Paul that they were all set to leave.
Whatever Bart’s answer was, it drew an exasperated sigh from Oliver and he pulled the phone down to look at her.
“He won’t give me a report until he knows how your night was,” he explained.
“Tell him you were a perfect gentleman,” she snickered.
“You get that?” Oliver questioned as he went to back to the call, listening for a second before a scowl settled upon his features. “No, she’s not just saying that! Could we maybe get to business?”
“Put him on speaker phone,” Chloe requested as the limo pulled smoothly away from the hotel and started back towards the penthouse.
Nodding, Oliver raised the divider to separate them from Paul, then lowered the phone and hit a button that caused Bart’s distinctive rambling to quickly fill the vehicle’s cab.
“Whoa, start again,” Chloe instructed the young man. “We missed what you said when we switched to speaker.”
“Chloelicious!” Bart’s voice crackled delightedly. “When are you getting back here? I’ve been practicing my dance moves and wanna take you and that dress for a spin.”
“I’m kinda danced out for the night,” she said with a smile as Oliver’s eyes rolled.
“Boo!” Bart objected.
"You gonna say something useful anytime soon?” Oliver cut in dryly.
"All work and no play makes Ollie a dull boy,” Bart noted. “Right Chlo?”
“Something like that,” she agreed. “I have to admit though, I’m pretty curious about how your excursion went as well.”
“Well, if it’s you that’s asking,” Bart kidded before turning serious. “We went, we conquered, we didn’t find a thing. The place was a ghost town.”
“What do you mean?” Oliver demanded with a frown.
“I mean it was empty, clean, nothing, nada,” Bart elaborated. “There was barely even any furniture.”
She wasn’t sure how he did it, but Oliver’s frown managed to deepen some more.
“We were just there,” he groused confusedly. “It wasn’t the liveliest place, but there were at least signs of life.”
“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. “Big signs of life that tackled the crap outta me! Who, by the way, I ran into again tonight.”
“The asshole that tried to squish you?” Bart exclaimed disbelievingly. “What the hell was he doing there?”
“Working security,” Chloe answered simply.
“I thought Ollie’s people were covering that,” Bart stated, perplexed.
Even though the young man should have been perfectly safe on the other end of the line, Chloe worried that Oliver was going to find a way to strangle him through the phone for inadvertently bringing up that particular sore spot.
“We’re going to look into it as soon as we get back to the apartment,” Oliver answered gruffly, clamping down on the anger the topic clearly stirred in him.
“Let’s get back to the warehouse,” he continued. “It was really empty?”
“That’s what I said amigo,” Bart swore. “It was totally cleared out.”
“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Chloe observed as she and Oliver shared a look, both of them wondering what exactly all of this meant.
“Okay,” Oliver began authoritatively, his eyes going back to the phone in his hand, “we’re on our way right now and as soon as we get there, we’re all gonna sit down and hash this out. Even if it kills us.”
“Oh yay,” Bart grumbled sarcastically. “Doesn’t that sound delightful…”
“Put on coffee!” Chloe instructed.
“See you in five,” Oliver offered in parting as he went to shut off the phone.
“Wait!” Bart called out, halting Oliver’s thumb just before it ended the call. “There’s something else you two should know.”
“What’s that?” Oliver asked, his free hand lifting and motioning for Bart to hurry up and make his point.
“Uh, so a certain Boy Scout was here waiting for us when we got back,” the young man began slowly.
“Clark?” Chloe questioned. “What did he want?”
“Well,” Bart hedged, “it didn’t really make a whole lot of sense, but he was going on about best friends, playboys and ass kickings.”
“Excuse me?” Chloe stuttered.
“It was kind of a red-blue blur,” Bart explained. “Literally. Anyways, it’s very likely that he’s down in the garage waiting for you two.”
“Fantastic,” Oliver groaned.
“We’re pulling for you!” Bart cheered as he quickly hung up the phone.
Clicking his cell shut, Oliver swung his eyes to Chloe and stared at her pointedly.
“Thought you said you had him calmed down when you talked to him earlier.”
“I did!” Chloe protested. “But its Clark, anything could have happened between then and now.”
They felt the car make a turn and slow to a pause, waiting for the building’s security system to grant them entrance. There was a beat of quiet, followed by the mechanical whir of the garage door rolling open.
Sure enough, Clark Kent was the first thing they saw as they pulled in, his posture, even from a distance, screaming extreme displeasure.
“Seriously,” Chloe griped, “why does he do this?”
“Cause he’s your best friend and he cares about you,” Oliver stated generously, fairly certain he knew what had the Boy Scout’s shorts in a knot.
“Pssh,” Chloe offered glibly. “A butinsky is what he is.”
“I’m telling him you said that,” Oliver smirked.
“Please,” she dismissed casually. “Like that’s the worst thing I’ve ever called him.”
Oliver lowered the divider as the limo rolled to a stop to find Paul looking back at him questioningly, his eyes darting a couple of times to the tall man angrily pacing outside the vehicle.
“No worries, Paul,” Oliver assured the driver, nodding his head at Clark. “He’s a friend... Maybe not so much at the moment, but true in principal.”
Paul could only nod uncertainly.
“You can just head on home,” Oliver continued with a smile. “We’ve got the doors.”
The picture of relief, Paul eagerly bid them both a good night as they began climbing out of the car.
“Clark,” Oliver greeted once he exited, taking a moment to duck back into the vehicle’s cab to help Chloe out.
When they were both standing, facing their friend, Oliver slammed the door closed and gave the roof a rap, signalling to Paul that he was free to go, which the man did immediately. All three of them watched tensely as the limo pulled around and exited the way it entered, their surroundings falling uncomfortably silent with its departure.
“So, how’s it going?” Oliver asked cheerfully, his voice ringing out with false merriment as he unofficially called a start to the showdown they were all expecting.
“Big night?” Clark questioned tightly, purposefully ignoring Oliver as his eyes swept over their clothes.
“Just hit up the drive thru,” Chloe snarked. “I had some mad Mickey D cravings.”
“This isn’t funny Chloe,” Clark replied.
“I’ll say it isn’t,” she agreed sardonically. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Clark challenged back. “You just ended things with Jimmy and now you’re splashed all over the gossip pages and going to…”
He struggled for the right word as he gestured to her dress.
“A Gala,” Oliver tossed in. “Charity benefit, to be more precise.”
Bright blue eyes swung to Oliver and shot him a warning glare that had Chloe hoping her best friend had left the safety for his heat vision on.
“I’ll get to you,” Clark promised, the threat making Oliver scoff.
“Okay, let’s turn down the testosterone, shall we?” Chloe began diplomatically, her eyes sweeping back and forth between the two men before settling once again on Clark.
“You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion,” she explained patiently. “Oliver and I aren’t in some clandestine relationship. We’re just working a case.”
“A case?” Clark questioned suspiciously. “Is that why you haven’t slept at your apartment in two nights?”
“What?” Chloe barked. “How do you know that?”
“I checked,” Clark replied simply.
“Oh, that is just all kinds of peeping tom creepy!” Chloe hollered at him. “I stayed here - in the guest room - because the information we have on this shady company isn’t adding up. Oliver and I have been cooped up here researching!”
“Chloe,” Clark tried again, his tone softening in an effort to assuage her growing aggravation.
“I know that working with the League is important to you, and you guys are doing great things, but don’t you think you have enough of your own stuff going on right now?”
“Clark, you know me,” Chloe soothed, her eyes glancing towards Oliver. “You know that I need this. I need to be useful.”
“Then go to Isis,” Clark suggested hopefully. “The work you do there and the people you help, that’s amazing and you’re great at it. You don’t have to put yourself in danger to make the world better.”
“She can handle it,” Oliver interjected sharply. “You should give her more credit.”
As much as she appreciated the vote of confidence, Oliver’s comment set Chloe’s teeth grinding in frustration as she mentally cursed male posturing, knowing both men well enough to credibly guess what was about to happen next.
“Who are you to decide what’s right for her?” Clark fired back, the anger that had been melting out of him returning in full force. “Just because you don’t care about putting yourself in the line of fire doesn’t mean she needs to do it too!”
“You heard her,” Oliver pointed out, “this is what she wants. Not my fault that I’m the one willing to support her.”
“Right, you breeze into town with a mission or two and then hit the road whenever it suits you,” Clark snapped. “Never mind that her life is here and it’s breaking apart, she’s expected to just drop everything and help you out whenever you decide you need her.”
“Guys!” Chloe tried to interject.
“Really?” Oliver shouted incredulously, the volume of his voice rising noticeably. “Tell me - cause I always forget this - exactly how many years has she spent throwing herself into insanely dangerous situations to cover your ass?”
“I don’t like putting her in those positions,” Clark countered angrily. “I don’t try to make it her job.”
“Well, that’s a real nice sentiment,” Oliver spit out derisively. “Too bad you don’t actually put it into practice.”
Clark’s jaw locked menacingly and Chloe knew that if she didn’t intervene and quick, this was going to become the moment when things spiralled way out of control.
“Seriously, both of you need to shut up…” she began angrily, but Oliver only ignored her and ploughed ahead, undaunted.
“As for expecting things from her,” he continued accusingly, “you’re the one who just assumes she’s here to back you up. Me, I gave her the choice. I asked her if she wanted to be part of all of this and she said yes.”
“She deserves more than this,” Clark ground out. “She deserves to have a life and be with people who have her best interests - her safety - at heart! People who care about her for more than just her ability to hack into computers and dig through files!”
“Don’t think for one second that I don’t care!” Oliver yelled furiously, the sudden intensity in his voice actually causing Chloe to jump in surprise.
The unexpected outburst stilled all three of them and the cold, concrete space they stood in became oppressively silent and seemed incredibly huge as they all stared at each other, their faces a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Coming to her senses first, Chloe recognized the lull as the opening she’d been looking for and decided to take charge of the situation.
“You know what?” She announced, her voice severe. “I get that all of this is out of concern, but you’re both treating me like an invalid and it’s really pissing me off.”
Both men stood tensely, refusing to meet her eyes.
“You two are supposed to be my friends, not my keepers,” she admonished sternly. “None of this is up to either of you. I get to decide what’s right for me, that’s my job, got it?”
Clark bent predictably at her words, but Oliver’s stance stayed edgy and distracted, his heavy gaze landing on everything but her.
“Is everybody clear?” She checked, her green eyes taking the time to lock threateningly on each one of them.
They both nodded vague affirmations, but Chloe could tell she’d only managed to slap a band aid on the problem and knew instinctively she’d very likely have to deal with all of this again in the very near future.
“Alright, good,” she concluded, despite her reservations. “If this is settled, Oliver and I have to go whip the boys into research mode.”
“You should let him take you home,” Oliver objected abruptly, throwing Chloe off.
“What?” She blinked at him.
“He’s right. You haven’t been home in a few days,” he continued stiffly. “Probably best that you get a night’s rest in your own place.”
“But what about the security files?” She questioned, floored by this dramatic change of heart he was laying on her out of nowhere.
“They’ll be there tomorrow,” Oliver assured her. “We’ll go through them then.”
“But…” she tried.
“Bart’s just going to spend the whole night trying to get you to dance with him,” Oliver joked, but it never really reached his eyes.
“Why not spare yourself the misery?”
“Why are you doing this?” She demanded, looking at him imploringly, not bothering to lower her voice because Clark would just hear her anyways.
“It’s just a night off Sidekick,” he promised her.
She glared only the sharpest daggers, but his eyes just met her abuse steadily, unrelenting in his brand new opinion.
“Fine,” she snapped, seriously displeased and undeniably wounded that her decisions were still being managed for her, even though she’d just made a speech about how she was more than capable of making them for herself.
“I’ll be back first thing,” she vowed unhappily, “and whatever it is you’re up to right now had better pass by then.”
He reached out and hooked her jutting chin with his forefinger, using his thumb to iron out the tight skin that was holding her furious pout in place.
“Don’t be a grouch,” he chided gently, his hand falling away reluctantly. “It doesn’t suit you.”
With that, he turned and nodded at Clark before making his way over to the elevator and disappearing inside, never sparing her a second glance.
Staring at the closed doors he’d exited through, Chloe felt all of the confusion she’d built up during the course of the night crash over her forcefully, each strange or odd or trying moment she’d shared with Oliver knocking into her one after the other, leaving her mind a hopeless swirl of unanswerable questions and distressing concerns.
“Would you tell me if something was really going on between you two?” Clark asked as he suddenly materialized at her side, the genuine curiosity in his voice dragging her out of her own head.
Frowning, she could only sigh at him exasperatedly as she spun her extravagant dress dramatically and began marching towards the exit.
“You and him just seem really close all of a sudden,” he tried to clarify as he did the materializing thing again and fell into step right beside her, his eyes darting down to try and figure out where he could walk without stomping on the skirt that flowed full around her.
“Watch it!” She warned half-heartedly, making it perfectly clear that she wanted the subject dropped as she pulled the material of her gown safely away from the danger his big ol’ feet presented.
“This dress didn’t make it through the whole night just so you could maim it with your work boots.”
Chapter 13 can be found here novadelphine.livejournal.com/5528.html#cutid1
“So tell me again how you totally blew your cover and yelled at the guy,” Oliver requested dryly as he and Chloe marched through the back ways of the Metropolis Grand, en route to the hotel’s underground parking facility.
“Cause that’s my favourite part.”
Clinging to his arm and practically running to keep up with his hurried strides, Chloe shot him a look of contempt.
After filling him in on her surprising encounter out on the balcony, they’d immediately begun trying to extricate themselves from the gala so they could get back to the penthouse and thoroughly investigate this latest development. Of course, leaving the party had proved as mind-numbing as entering it, given that Oliver was required to take yet another tour about the room to offer his guests thanks and farewells. While Chloe had found the first time around tedious, the second lap was pure torture as the same people said the same things, one after another. She’d been seriously contemplating drowning herself in one of the elaborate champagne fountains when Oliver had suddenly hustled her through an emergency exit and, forgoing the main staircase and the paparazzi riddled front doors, began leading her through the Grand’s service hallways with familiar ease.
“I already admitted that it wasn’t one of my finer moments, okay?” She snapped resentfully. “So how about we let it go and focus on the fact that my buddy from the warehouse was here, sporting the same kind of Men in Black knock off as the rest of your company’s security team.”
When she’d first hinted that one of his security guard’s was apparently moonlighting for the Wynlie Group, she hadn’t missed the dark look that had crossed his face. Being Oliver though, he’d managed to quickly school his features and skate right over the disconcerting detail, choosing instead to keep up the rapid fire questioning he’d been subjecting her to as he attempted to get the full scope of the situation. Now, however, she’d graduated to full-out implying that something was amiss within his organization and if the very visible ticking along his jaw was anything to go by, she was fairly sure he wasn’t going to be able to gloss over the issue quite so casually this time.
“They wear non-descript, black suits,” he ground out bitingly. “Not exactly hard to get your hands on one of those.”
“Granted,” Chloe pressed, her feet nearly sliding out from under her as Oliver cut a sharp right to take them down yet another endless hallway, “but he checked in with someone on his earpiece. He was working this event.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Oliver argued disdainfully, earning an equally condescending look from Chloe.
“That’s exactly what I’m sure of,” she corrected pointedly. “What we need to do is crack open your personnel files and see what’s what.”
“You want me to investigate my own people?” He balked, clearly offended.
“Yes, yes I do,” she shot back, eyeing him reproachfully. “Which wouldn’t be such a big deal if you’d stop acting like this was a criticism of you for one second. Queen Industries employs tons of people. It stands to reason that, perhaps, one of them is colouring outside the lines.”
“It’s my company,” he replied lowly, his eyes levelling her with a stony gaze, “and the fact that you think it could be corrupt - even just a bit - is something I take very personally.”
Fed up with effort it took to simultaneously wage war on his stubbornness and sprint to keep up with him, Chloe planted her stilettos and let her free hand join the one she already had on his arm, effectively throwing him off his anger pace with one mighty yank.
“What the hell?” He cursed as he spun around to face her, his expression hard.
“You’re being stupid and it doesn’t suit you,” she bit out tersely, his anger hardly a deterrent in her mind.
“Watch it,” he warned her gravely.
“Or what?” She fired back. “Do you think I’m bringing this up to spite you? Is that what you think of me?”
Something inscrutable passed over his face, but before she could identify it, he was raking a hand roughly through his hair and his eyes were avoiding hers, choosing instead to focus on the blank wall past her.
“The idea of my house being out of order doesn’t sit well with me,” he admitted tensely, the anger he’d been directing at her changing course to zero back in on himself.
“And I don’t blame you for that,” she offered kindly, reaching out to poke her index finger gently into his abs until he finally looked at her once again. “Just stop aiming those arrows of yours at the messenger.”
The cheesy line dragged the smallest of smirks out of him and its reappearance on his lips lifted a weight off of her that she hadn’t realized she’d been shouldering.
“I’ll gladly be proven wrong, but only after we’re sure,” she promised him, the finger she had pressed against his side sliding absently along to hook into his jacket pocket and hang there. “Until then, I’m not going to let you turn a blind eye to this.”
He nodded slowly, knowing she was right, but still reluctant to give way to her suspicions.
“I just have a really hard time thinking anything like this could be going on,” he explained quietly. “My head of security runs a tight ship. Something like this could never get by him.”
The disgusted snort was out of her before she had any chance of stopping it.
“What was that?” He asked, a deep frown spreading across his brow.
“Nothing,” she answered automatically, her cheeks colouring as she released her loose hold on his jacket and tried to wave away her gaffe. Leave it to her to renew a fight just as soon as she’d managed to broker a little peace.
“Then why the weird face?” Oliver inquired, his eyes narrowing.
“What face?” Chloe quipped, her finger circling the very features in question.
“This is the only one I have.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agreed, “and it did something weird when I mentioned my head of security.”
“It’s nothing,” Chloe repeated, trying to stave off his interrogation, but he continued to eye her doubtfully.
Releasing a cranky growl, she gave up and allowed herself to be defeated by his scrutiny.
“Your security guy, Mitchell Edwards, I met him and he’s a jerk, okay?” She blurted out. “He came up to me while you were giving your speech and laid the third degree on me, asking about my intentions, or whatever, and telling me how corporate espionage isn’t just for the movies, blah, blah, blah.”
“Really?” Oliver checked, his surprise evident.
“That’s why I went out to the balcony in the first place,” she explained. “He was being weird. Not to mention rude and kinda creepy.”
“Mitchell’s never been the most subtle guy,” he allowed slowly, “but that’s a little blunt, even for him.”
“Yeah, well,” she quipped carelessly, “have fun trying to get a girlfriend with him playing chaperone.”
Oliver eyed her strangely.
“Who says I’m looking for a girlfriend?” He asked curiously.
She had intended for the remark to be just another shining example of the banter they were always flinging at each other, but even she had to admit that as far as zingers went, it had pretty much come right out of left field. As if that wasn’t enough, the odd look he was pinning her with got this weird little voice in the back of her brain going, badgering her incessantly to ask him if his comment was meant for the female population in general, or her specifically. Shaking her head to shut up her trouble making thoughts, she grabbed at her skirt and moved around him, continuing down the hall despite the fact that she didn’t know the way to the garage.
“We’re getting off-topic,” she deflected as she stepped quickly. “We need to get back to the penthouse, see if the guys came up with anything during their outing, and start screening your security operation.”
“Chloe,” he called after her, still standing in the same spot she’d left him in.
“This isn’t the time to get into this,” she tossed over her shoulder, unhappy with the unsettled feeling his question had produced within her.
“Get into what?” He called again. “I’m just trying to tell you that we need to take these stairs.”
She tripped to a stop and turned to find him holding open a door that she hadn’t even noticed. Blaming the dress and the party and the dancing for messing with her head and throwing her off her game, she returned to his side with a red face and passed through the exit without looking at him, quickly picking the metal railing that ran down the wall to support her instead of his offered arm.
Their steps echoed noisily around the hollow stairwell as they descended flight after flight, neither one even attempting to speak over the foreign divide that seemed to have suddenly sprung up between them. Eyes glued in front of her feet, Chloe tried to jostle aside the strange foolishness that was gnawing at her uncomfortably. She knew she should write off the whole girlfriend exchange and never give it a second thought, but something about his words left her struggling to figure out what he meant and the fact that she couldn’t let it go was only adding to her rattled state.
“I can tell that we’re not talking,” Oliver announced from behind her, his genuinely puzzled voice breaking their stalemate and carrying easily thanks to the surrounding acoustics. “Thing is though, I’m not really sure why…I thought we ended our argument.”
“We did,” she answered simply, telling herself that she couldn’t look back at him because she was scared she would trip. “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of that tonight,” he noted cautiously.
“I think all the time Oliver,” she chided as she reached up and tapped the side of her head. “It’s always busy in here.”
“I know, but you’re usually pretty good about multi-tasking while you do it,” he pointed out observantly. “It makes me wonder what could possibly be so fascinating that it takes up all of your attention.”
She paused, mid-step, wondering what he was getting at as apprehension mixed in with the foolishness she already felt and her anxiety jumped from mild to catastrophic.
“What do you mean?” She asked carefully, looking up at him for the first time since they’d left the hallway however many floors above them.
He face was contemplative as he moved to her side, watching her with worried eyes.
“I know I don’t have any experience in this area,” he began earnestly, his statement quickly drawing a confused frown from her.
“I also know that you don’t just pour yourself out when it comes to this sort of stuff,” he continued, “but if you need to talk, I’ll listen to every word. I may just be some guy you know, but I’ll listen.”
Her bewilderment absolute, she could only stare at him quizzically until his meaning dropped down on top of her like a city bus from at least five storeys up.
He was talking about her divorce.
While she was busily reminding herself not to go and get all attracted to him, he was worried about the trauma she was supposed to be enduring due to the very recent dissolution of her marriage. Eyes sliding shut wearily, she marvelled at the fact that Jimmy hadn’t dumped her long before because lately, she seemed to be stumbling over one example after another of just what a horrible wife she must have been.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Oliver murmured, his hand sliding apologetically over her arm. “I know you want to work and keep your mind off of all of this, but maybe you should be taking time for yourself.”
“No, no,” she stuttered her hand waving away the concern. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” He asked, the soothing touch on her arm drifting down to take her hand and hold it supportively.
“You shouldn’t be so nice to me,” she told him with a miserable laugh. “I don’t deserve it.”
“What?” He questioned, taking his turn to be confused.
“The whole divorce really isn’t bothering me as much as it probably should,” she admitted shamefully. “If I’m feeling anything, it’s more embarrassment over the fact that it was such a spectacular failure than any kind of heartbreak over losing Jimmy.”
Her confession finally voiced, she released a painful breath and let the guilt swallow her whole.
“God,” she muttered, raising her free hand to cover her eyes, “that sounded even worse out loud than it did in my head.”
She could feel his hand at her wrist, pulling her arm away from her face as he stooped to meet her mournful stare.
“You’re not an awful person,” he assured her.
“Aren’t I though?” She argued lamely. “I mean, how did I let it get this far? What was I thinking?”
“You wanted to be happy,” he remarked knowingly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“He deserved better,” she declared dejectedly.
“Not better,” he corrected, squeezing her hands, “just somebody who’s right for him.”
She sighed deeply, trying to let his words seep in past her guilt so that the hopeful part of her that was hollering out in agreement stood a chance. Ever since Jimmy bitterly labelled them over, she had willingly accepted the blame for the destruction of their marriage, figuring her self-recriminations were fair penance for completely screwing up something she was supposed to love. In her own, messed up way, she actually found it easier to cast herself as the bad guy than admit that she really didn’t break her and Jimmy. They never truly fit to begin with.
“Don’t be mad at me for saying this,” he requested gently, breaking through her deliberating. “But I never really understood how you planned on making it work. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Jimmy always struck me as a good guy who really cared about you, but how were you going to deal with all the secrets?”
“I guess I just thought it would figure itself out,” she answered feebly, the response - like so many other things - coming across as utterly ridiculous when she heard it out loud.
“I know it sounds stupid,” she added self-consciously, “but all that stuff always managed to sort itself out before, so guess I just thought it would keep going that way.”
“Did you ever consider telling him about your extracurricular activities?” He asked carefully, his tone devoid of any accusation.
“No,” she replied resolutely, without a single shred of hesitation.
Oliver eyed her meaningfully.
“Had you ever thought that you could just give it all up, walk away from the double life and live just one with him?”
“No,” she repeated, this time quietly, resigned to this revelation.
“I know that feeling way too well,” he confided softly as he tugged her hand and encouraged her to resume their trek down the stairs.
“You and me,” he continued, gesturing between them with his free hand, “we’re the type that run towards the burning building instead of away from it, even though we don’t have any fancy powers to help us out. Not everybody can understand that.”
“So, what you’re saying is that we’re idiots,” Chloe noted weakly, unable to resist.
“Yes,” Oliver agreed with a boyish grin. “We’re idiots and we can't just sit back and live the life that works for everybody else. We’re never going to be able to settle into that.”
“Is this your way of telling me I should start buying some cats?” She asked, his words striking a chord deep within her and bringing her - and her banter - back to life.
“Cats are nasty,” he scowled disapprovingly. “Mean little buggers.”
“Well, I’d rather have furballs than nothing at all,” she joked.
“You’re not going to end up alone,” he told her confidently as they finally reached the bottom level and pushed their way through the heavy metal doors that lead to the hotel’s garage.
“Bart will wear you down long before that ever happens.”
The laugh that burst out of her was desperately needed and felt wonderful. Smiling up at him through her chuckles, she could tell by his answering smile that a thank you wasn’t necessary.
Seeing Paul and the limo waiting for them patiently, they made their way over to the vehicle just as Oliver’s cell began ringing in his pocket. He pulled out the device and grinned as he took in the familiar number that flashed upon the display screen.
“Speak of the devil,” he mused as he pulled the door open for her.
“Bart?” She ventured as she accepted his help into the car and scooted over for him to follow her in.
“Naturally,” he smirked as he slid into his seat, flipped the phone open and raised it to his ear.
“How did it go?” He asked without greeting, motioning to Paul that they were all set to leave.
Whatever Bart’s answer was, it drew an exasperated sigh from Oliver and he pulled the phone down to look at her.
“He won’t give me a report until he knows how your night was,” he explained.
“Tell him you were a perfect gentleman,” she snickered.
“You get that?” Oliver questioned as he went to back to the call, listening for a second before a scowl settled upon his features. “No, she’s not just saying that! Could we maybe get to business?”
“Put him on speaker phone,” Chloe requested as the limo pulled smoothly away from the hotel and started back towards the penthouse.
Nodding, Oliver raised the divider to separate them from Paul, then lowered the phone and hit a button that caused Bart’s distinctive rambling to quickly fill the vehicle’s cab.
“Whoa, start again,” Chloe instructed the young man. “We missed what you said when we switched to speaker.”
“Chloelicious!” Bart’s voice crackled delightedly. “When are you getting back here? I’ve been practicing my dance moves and wanna take you and that dress for a spin.”
“I’m kinda danced out for the night,” she said with a smile as Oliver’s eyes rolled.
“Boo!” Bart objected.
"You gonna say something useful anytime soon?” Oliver cut in dryly.
"All work and no play makes Ollie a dull boy,” Bart noted. “Right Chlo?”
“Something like that,” she agreed. “I have to admit though, I’m pretty curious about how your excursion went as well.”
“Well, if it’s you that’s asking,” Bart kidded before turning serious. “We went, we conquered, we didn’t find a thing. The place was a ghost town.”
“What do you mean?” Oliver demanded with a frown.
“I mean it was empty, clean, nothing, nada,” Bart elaborated. “There was barely even any furniture.”
She wasn’t sure how he did it, but Oliver’s frown managed to deepen some more.
“We were just there,” he groused confusedly. “It wasn’t the liveliest place, but there were at least signs of life.”
“Yeah,” Chloe agreed. “Big signs of life that tackled the crap outta me! Who, by the way, I ran into again tonight.”
“The asshole that tried to squish you?” Bart exclaimed disbelievingly. “What the hell was he doing there?”
“Working security,” Chloe answered simply.
“I thought Ollie’s people were covering that,” Bart stated, perplexed.
Even though the young man should have been perfectly safe on the other end of the line, Chloe worried that Oliver was going to find a way to strangle him through the phone for inadvertently bringing up that particular sore spot.
“We’re going to look into it as soon as we get back to the apartment,” Oliver answered gruffly, clamping down on the anger the topic clearly stirred in him.
“Let’s get back to the warehouse,” he continued. “It was really empty?”
“That’s what I said amigo,” Bart swore. “It was totally cleared out.”
“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Chloe observed as she and Oliver shared a look, both of them wondering what exactly all of this meant.
“Okay,” Oliver began authoritatively, his eyes going back to the phone in his hand, “we’re on our way right now and as soon as we get there, we’re all gonna sit down and hash this out. Even if it kills us.”
“Oh yay,” Bart grumbled sarcastically. “Doesn’t that sound delightful…”
“Put on coffee!” Chloe instructed.
“See you in five,” Oliver offered in parting as he went to shut off the phone.
“Wait!” Bart called out, halting Oliver’s thumb just before it ended the call. “There’s something else you two should know.”
“What’s that?” Oliver asked, his free hand lifting and motioning for Bart to hurry up and make his point.
“Uh, so a certain Boy Scout was here waiting for us when we got back,” the young man began slowly.
“Clark?” Chloe questioned. “What did he want?”
“Well,” Bart hedged, “it didn’t really make a whole lot of sense, but he was going on about best friends, playboys and ass kickings.”
“Excuse me?” Chloe stuttered.
“It was kind of a red-blue blur,” Bart explained. “Literally. Anyways, it’s very likely that he’s down in the garage waiting for you two.”
“Fantastic,” Oliver groaned.
“We’re pulling for you!” Bart cheered as he quickly hung up the phone.
Clicking his cell shut, Oliver swung his eyes to Chloe and stared at her pointedly.
“Thought you said you had him calmed down when you talked to him earlier.”
“I did!” Chloe protested. “But its Clark, anything could have happened between then and now.”
They felt the car make a turn and slow to a pause, waiting for the building’s security system to grant them entrance. There was a beat of quiet, followed by the mechanical whir of the garage door rolling open.
Sure enough, Clark Kent was the first thing they saw as they pulled in, his posture, even from a distance, screaming extreme displeasure.
“Seriously,” Chloe griped, “why does he do this?”
“Cause he’s your best friend and he cares about you,” Oliver stated generously, fairly certain he knew what had the Boy Scout’s shorts in a knot.
“Pssh,” Chloe offered glibly. “A butinsky is what he is.”
“I’m telling him you said that,” Oliver smirked.
“Please,” she dismissed casually. “Like that’s the worst thing I’ve ever called him.”
Oliver lowered the divider as the limo rolled to a stop to find Paul looking back at him questioningly, his eyes darting a couple of times to the tall man angrily pacing outside the vehicle.
“No worries, Paul,” Oliver assured the driver, nodding his head at Clark. “He’s a friend... Maybe not so much at the moment, but true in principal.”
Paul could only nod uncertainly.
“You can just head on home,” Oliver continued with a smile. “We’ve got the doors.”
The picture of relief, Paul eagerly bid them both a good night as they began climbing out of the car.
“Clark,” Oliver greeted once he exited, taking a moment to duck back into the vehicle’s cab to help Chloe out.
When they were both standing, facing their friend, Oliver slammed the door closed and gave the roof a rap, signalling to Paul that he was free to go, which the man did immediately. All three of them watched tensely as the limo pulled around and exited the way it entered, their surroundings falling uncomfortably silent with its departure.
“So, how’s it going?” Oliver asked cheerfully, his voice ringing out with false merriment as he unofficially called a start to the showdown they were all expecting.
“Big night?” Clark questioned tightly, purposefully ignoring Oliver as his eyes swept over their clothes.
“Just hit up the drive thru,” Chloe snarked. “I had some mad Mickey D cravings.”
“This isn’t funny Chloe,” Clark replied.
“I’ll say it isn’t,” she agreed sardonically. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Clark challenged back. “You just ended things with Jimmy and now you’re splashed all over the gossip pages and going to…”
He struggled for the right word as he gestured to her dress.
“A Gala,” Oliver tossed in. “Charity benefit, to be more precise.”
Bright blue eyes swung to Oliver and shot him a warning glare that had Chloe hoping her best friend had left the safety for his heat vision on.
“I’ll get to you,” Clark promised, the threat making Oliver scoff.
“Okay, let’s turn down the testosterone, shall we?” Chloe began diplomatically, her eyes sweeping back and forth between the two men before settling once again on Clark.
“You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion,” she explained patiently. “Oliver and I aren’t in some clandestine relationship. We’re just working a case.”
“A case?” Clark questioned suspiciously. “Is that why you haven’t slept at your apartment in two nights?”
“What?” Chloe barked. “How do you know that?”
“I checked,” Clark replied simply.
“Oh, that is just all kinds of peeping tom creepy!” Chloe hollered at him. “I stayed here - in the guest room - because the information we have on this shady company isn’t adding up. Oliver and I have been cooped up here researching!”
“Chloe,” Clark tried again, his tone softening in an effort to assuage her growing aggravation.
“I know that working with the League is important to you, and you guys are doing great things, but don’t you think you have enough of your own stuff going on right now?”
“Clark, you know me,” Chloe soothed, her eyes glancing towards Oliver. “You know that I need this. I need to be useful.”
“Then go to Isis,” Clark suggested hopefully. “The work you do there and the people you help, that’s amazing and you’re great at it. You don’t have to put yourself in danger to make the world better.”
“She can handle it,” Oliver interjected sharply. “You should give her more credit.”
As much as she appreciated the vote of confidence, Oliver’s comment set Chloe’s teeth grinding in frustration as she mentally cursed male posturing, knowing both men well enough to credibly guess what was about to happen next.
“Who are you to decide what’s right for her?” Clark fired back, the anger that had been melting out of him returning in full force. “Just because you don’t care about putting yourself in the line of fire doesn’t mean she needs to do it too!”
“You heard her,” Oliver pointed out, “this is what she wants. Not my fault that I’m the one willing to support her.”
“Right, you breeze into town with a mission or two and then hit the road whenever it suits you,” Clark snapped. “Never mind that her life is here and it’s breaking apart, she’s expected to just drop everything and help you out whenever you decide you need her.”
“Guys!” Chloe tried to interject.
“Really?” Oliver shouted incredulously, the volume of his voice rising noticeably. “Tell me - cause I always forget this - exactly how many years has she spent throwing herself into insanely dangerous situations to cover your ass?”
“I don’t like putting her in those positions,” Clark countered angrily. “I don’t try to make it her job.”
“Well, that’s a real nice sentiment,” Oliver spit out derisively. “Too bad you don’t actually put it into practice.”
Clark’s jaw locked menacingly and Chloe knew that if she didn’t intervene and quick, this was going to become the moment when things spiralled way out of control.
“Seriously, both of you need to shut up…” she began angrily, but Oliver only ignored her and ploughed ahead, undaunted.
“As for expecting things from her,” he continued accusingly, “you’re the one who just assumes she’s here to back you up. Me, I gave her the choice. I asked her if she wanted to be part of all of this and she said yes.”
“She deserves more than this,” Clark ground out. “She deserves to have a life and be with people who have her best interests - her safety - at heart! People who care about her for more than just her ability to hack into computers and dig through files!”
“Don’t think for one second that I don’t care!” Oliver yelled furiously, the sudden intensity in his voice actually causing Chloe to jump in surprise.
The unexpected outburst stilled all three of them and the cold, concrete space they stood in became oppressively silent and seemed incredibly huge as they all stared at each other, their faces a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Coming to her senses first, Chloe recognized the lull as the opening she’d been looking for and decided to take charge of the situation.
“You know what?” She announced, her voice severe. “I get that all of this is out of concern, but you’re both treating me like an invalid and it’s really pissing me off.”
Both men stood tensely, refusing to meet her eyes.
“You two are supposed to be my friends, not my keepers,” she admonished sternly. “None of this is up to either of you. I get to decide what’s right for me, that’s my job, got it?”
Clark bent predictably at her words, but Oliver’s stance stayed edgy and distracted, his heavy gaze landing on everything but her.
“Is everybody clear?” She checked, her green eyes taking the time to lock threateningly on each one of them.
They both nodded vague affirmations, but Chloe could tell she’d only managed to slap a band aid on the problem and knew instinctively she’d very likely have to deal with all of this again in the very near future.
“Alright, good,” she concluded, despite her reservations. “If this is settled, Oliver and I have to go whip the boys into research mode.”
“You should let him take you home,” Oliver objected abruptly, throwing Chloe off.
“What?” She blinked at him.
“He’s right. You haven’t been home in a few days,” he continued stiffly. “Probably best that you get a night’s rest in your own place.”
“But what about the security files?” She questioned, floored by this dramatic change of heart he was laying on her out of nowhere.
“They’ll be there tomorrow,” Oliver assured her. “We’ll go through them then.”
“But…” she tried.
“Bart’s just going to spend the whole night trying to get you to dance with him,” Oliver joked, but it never really reached his eyes.
“Why not spare yourself the misery?”
“Why are you doing this?” She demanded, looking at him imploringly, not bothering to lower her voice because Clark would just hear her anyways.
“It’s just a night off Sidekick,” he promised her.
She glared only the sharpest daggers, but his eyes just met her abuse steadily, unrelenting in his brand new opinion.
“Fine,” she snapped, seriously displeased and undeniably wounded that her decisions were still being managed for her, even though she’d just made a speech about how she was more than capable of making them for herself.
“I’ll be back first thing,” she vowed unhappily, “and whatever it is you’re up to right now had better pass by then.”
He reached out and hooked her jutting chin with his forefinger, using his thumb to iron out the tight skin that was holding her furious pout in place.
“Don’t be a grouch,” he chided gently, his hand falling away reluctantly. “It doesn’t suit you.”
With that, he turned and nodded at Clark before making his way over to the elevator and disappearing inside, never sparing her a second glance.
Staring at the closed doors he’d exited through, Chloe felt all of the confusion she’d built up during the course of the night crash over her forcefully, each strange or odd or trying moment she’d shared with Oliver knocking into her one after the other, leaving her mind a hopeless swirl of unanswerable questions and distressing concerns.
“Would you tell me if something was really going on between you two?” Clark asked as he suddenly materialized at her side, the genuine curiosity in his voice dragging her out of her own head.
Frowning, she could only sigh at him exasperatedly as she spun her extravagant dress dramatically and began marching towards the exit.
“You and him just seem really close all of a sudden,” he tried to clarify as he did the materializing thing again and fell into step right beside her, his eyes darting down to try and figure out where he could walk without stomping on the skirt that flowed full around her.
“Watch it!” She warned half-heartedly, making it perfectly clear that she wanted the subject dropped as she pulled the material of her gown safely away from the danger his big ol’ feet presented.
“This dress didn’t make it through the whole night just so you could maim it with your work boots.”
Chapter 13 can be found here novadelphine.livejournal.com/5528.html#cutid1