It Began - NC17 - Chloe/Oliver - Part 2/2
Title: It Began
Category: Smallville
Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor
Ship: Chloe/Oliver
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 1,929
Summary: Following Disciple, Oliver and Chloe learn how to accept themselves as they are and overcome the darkness together.
Previous: Part I,
It Began
II.
It began with a touch.
In the next few weeks, Oliver only let her work a regular eight hour shift and then he intervened. Occasionally, when things were of vital importance, he’d let her work overtime, but only if she let him help. They shared lunch at the same diner they had the first night and she was becoming a permanent fixture in his apartment now, given that hers was more of a work base than anything else. They took turns cooking dinner for each other, Oliver the first night, Chloe the second, and take-out the third. He convinced her to join him at baseball and basketball games, just for a night on the town. Not much of a sports junkie, she had to have him explain the game to her most of the time, but eventually she had her favorite teams which almost always opposed him for some healthy debate.
When her phone rang, more often than not, it was him.
“Chloe Sullivan reporting for duty,” she answered.
“You’ve got five minutes to power down the tower and then I’m coming in,” he warned, amusement in his voice.
She rolled her eyes. “Sir, yes sir,” she replied sarcastically.
“We’ve got reservations for dinner at six and the play starts at seven.”
Nose wrinkled, she muttered, “Which play?”
“I have no idea… I was given the tickets by an associate,” he admitted.
She snorted. “Lovely.”
“Be happy, Sullivan. You got a new dress out of it.”
Eyes narrowed, she muttered, “And where might this dress be?”
“Check your bedroom.”
Scoffing, she rose from her seat. “Impossible. I haven’t moved from my desk in eight hours and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of y-“
There was a white box sitting in the center of her bed, mocking her.
His laughter rang through the phone before he hung up.
That gave her three and a half minutes to get dressed and out the door before he came in and forced her out.
It was a good thing she showered this morning and her job didn’t involve any physical labor. With a sigh and a smile quirking her lips, she crossed the room and drew out the green gown that slid sensually against her fingertips. She couldn’t wait to get it on.
…
In three weeks, she was fairly sure Oliver had converted half of her wardrobe to green. Dresses, blouses, accessories; it seemed he wanted to shower her with gifts every time he meant to take her out. She wasn’t exactly complaining, but she didn’t want him to think she stuck around for the shwag. It was the company and the feeling of lighthearted joy she got whenever she saw him. It was how she felt appreciated when he’d appear behind her and cover her hands with his so she’d stop typing at the computer before he whisked her away for a night void of wires and espionage.
So wearing a glittering emerald blouse and a black pencil skirt, she was actually happy to see the clock chime five-thirty and grinned with anticipation as the doors to her office were swung open and he came swaggering inside with a grin.
“Front row seats to the Lakers versus Bulls tonight,” he announced, waving the tickets for her to see. “We’re so close all you’ll see, hear and smell is sweat and cursing.”
With a laugh, she rose from her seat. “Do we have enough time to get there?”
“Jet is ready and fueled.” With a wink, he waited for her to cross to him. “And I already have your Bulls jersey waiting on the plane.”
She glanced up at him, frowning. “You didn’t get it dry cleaned, did you?”
Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he cocked a brow at her. “I know how much you love that disgusting blood stain, Sidekick. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your memorabilia.”
“Hey! It’s not every day that a pro basketball player’s shattered nose bleeds all over you!” she reminded, laughing.
“Which is much appreciated,” he replied, directing her out of the tower and toward the elevator.
After a ride over on the Queen private jet, and now wearing her bloody jersey, Chloe and Oliver made their way to their VIP seats at the game.
“He’s the one that bled on me!” she said, pointing at number eleven, Lindsey Hunter.
Just happy to see her happy, Oliver nodded, squeezing her knee to show his support in her enthusiasm.
Work was forgotten entirely as Chloe hooted and hollered for her Bulls while Oliver argued that the Lakers were better. In good fun, they sat side-by-side wearing opposing jerseys and supporting their teams. And when her Bulls won, Chloe jumped out of her seat and pumped her arms in the air with all the excitement of a kid. Despite his team’s loss, Oliver picked her up and hugged her close as she whooped for the Bulls.
And with an orange #1 foam finger on her hand, they left the stadium arm-in-arm, to catch a cab back to the airstrip where the jet was waiting to bring them home.
…
Awkward was not in Oliver’s vocabulary and having spent as much time as he had with Chloe, it wasn’t something that occurred between them. But there were moments when he would notice something between them that he’d never acknowledged before and it tended to put him on edge. Like when she returned from the back of the jet, tugging her green blouse back in place and a few inches of her soft, pale flesh was revealed, there was a moment where he wanted to reach out and touch it; just press his fingers to her exposed waist. Or when she asked him to do up her dress the night he took her out to a benefit dinner for the local hospital charity. He’s spotted green lace panties just below the small of her back and his fingers hovered against her long spine as he drew the zipper into place. There were times when he’d brush her hair from her eyes and his knuckles would graze her cheek and there’d be a sting in his chest of awareness. They were all little things, inconsequential really, but the need to touch her was building every day.
She left work early. He was surprised; he didn’t know what to say.
Standing in his office, she held a baggie and a coffee out for him. “Double double and a chocolate chip muffin,” she said, smiling.
He grinned, taking them from her hands. “You’re…”
“Early? Not working? Actually taking the opportunity to do something rather than wait for you to arrive?” She smirked. “All of the above.”
Chuckling, he sat down at the edge of his desk and parted the bag to pull out his muffin, amused when he found the bottom missing.
She winked. “You never eat the bottoms.”
He half-smiled. “The top is better.”
“Says you,” she argued.
Taking out his muffin top, he bit down on it, and cocked a brow as he waited for her to continue.
“Okay, so I don’t have basketball tickets buuut… I did make dinner and pack it in a very nice picnic basket, of which I plan for us to enjoy on your roof.”
He looked up and then blinked.
She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Your apartment roof.”
“And to what do I owe this stroke of genius?”
She grinned. “That’s the best part… There’s a private band playing for some big shmoozey party like three buildings over. You were invited, you remember, but you don’t want to go. So… I figure dinner and music and no fake people. Just you, me, and a rooftop with music and food.”
His brows rose. “I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” she said, grinning. “So wear whatever’s comfortable and meet me on your roof in….” She checked her watch. “Two hours.”
With a nod, he agreed.
“Great. I gotta go; I still have a few things to tweak.” With a wave, she left, and Oliver sat back in his office, looking forward to their evening alone.
…
With wine, cold chicken, and a stomach full of pasta, Oliver and Chloe sat back on his roof, staring at the stars as music cascaded across the sky to lull them into comfort. Side-by-side in lounge chairs, Oliver stretched out in his favorite worn-out jeans and his college hoodie. A cool breeze made his ungelled hair flutter and as he looked out of the corner of his eyes, he saw golden locks of Chloe’s hair doing the same. She smiled as if she felt him watching.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he replied, grinning. “Just full and happy.” He patted his stomach approvingly.
She chuckled. “Glad I could help.”
“You have… a lot. I don’t remember the last time I was half as happy as I am.”
Brow furrowing lightly, she turned to him. “Neither can I.”
Reaching out, he took her hand, threading their fingers and holding it close against his chest. “Maybe we’re good for each other then.”
“Yeah…” Her thumb stroked his palm gently. “I think we are.”
…
He began to consider work the nuisance; invading what time he had with Chloe. The more time they spent together, the more he craved being around her; her laugh and her wit and her brilliant smile. When he wasn’t working for QI and they weren’t involved in League business, he was spending his waking hours with her; from a simple walk in the park to dinner at the most exclusive of restaurants. Any fears he might’ve had that allies were unnecessary was completely wiped out; he couldn’t imagine what he’d do without her.
The old Oliver was gone; the man who second-guessed his actions, who longed for a woman who no longer loved him, who worried that he’d one day become a darker version of himself. The new him was happy and content with his life as it was. He had a woman in his life who knew all of him and believed in and trusted him. And if ever that darker part of him did take over, he knew that she would be the one to stop it. But what was better was that he didn’t think it could; he had learned from that dark half and he had overcome it. And more than that, he’d helped Chloe overcome her own dark side to return to the sweet and incredible woman she’d once been.
He walked into the watchtower with a skip in his step, already smiling.
She was crossing the room, still doing up the buttons on her blouse, and his throat went dry. There was navel and white flesh and his hands shook momentarily, like a boy seeing his first pretty girl. Just as quickly as he’d seen it, it was covered, tucked into the waistband of her skirt and smoothed down. When she stopped in front of him, she grinned.
“Ready?”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
The light bulb had just gone off. He was ready. Ready to move on from Lois and focus his attention on a more worthy and accepting woman.
“Yeah,” he finally said with a short laugh. “I think I am.”
Instead of offering his arm like he usually did, he took her hand, their fingers linking. It was that soft touch he longed for that offered a prolonged calming sensation. Their hands fit together, their bodies fell into sync as they walked, and any doubt he might’ve had was nonexistent.
All he had to do now was convince her.
[Complete]