Chlollie Fanfic: Beauty in the Breakdown - Letting Go
So, I watched the culmination of the Warrior kiss that was cut from Lazarus (like every other Chlollier on the planet), and as awesome as it was, I couldn’t help feeling…disappointed, somewhat. Once again, I felt that TPTB had fast-tracked a very important moment in the development of the Chlollie relationship, because as hot as that entire scene was, I strongly doubt that they just tumbled into bed without a care in the world.
Thus, a new series is born. It’ll likely be a series of 4 oneshots (hah!) covering about a two to three-week period from the time that that now-famous arrow was fired.
Ladies and Gentlemen: I present the first in the Beauty in the Breakdown Series: Letting Go. Because as far as I’m concerned, Chloe was letting go of a whole lot more than just a poxy arrow. J
Enjoy. Feedback will give you priority status and a fast-track on my WIPs update list. *wink-wink* ;-)
Crystal clear screencap from nyonyo . Thanks a mill, babes! :-)
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown: Letting Go
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie
Rating: R. New Series.
Warnings: None
Timeline: Season 9; a Re-telling of Chlollie post-Warrior
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Series Summary: With Oliver by her side, Chloe learns to let go, find peace, and fall in love.
Story Summary: After Chloe fires that arrow, she realises everything she’s actually letting go of. Oliver’s there to pick up the pieces.
Feedback: …the more, the merrier! J
Written for sxymami0909 , based on my favourite song on the Chlollie playlist she sent me. J
Beauty in the Breakdown
Story 1: Letting Go
So let go, let go…
Jump in
Oh, well what ‘ya waiting for?
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown…
- Let Go, by Frou-Frou
“I don’t think anyone can fault your for being on edge, Chloe,” Oliver said empathically as he lined up another arrow and sighted the target. “I mean, if anyone understands, it’s me; I get it.”
Chloe’s brows rose, and she barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, you can,” she replied politely.
Bullshit, she thought bitterly. No-one had a frickin’ clue how the last year-and-a-half had affected her, and more to the point, no-one gave a rat’s ass; least of all Oliver. Just last year, against her better judgement she’d dropped her guard and opened up to him on her birthday, lamenting on how her marriage had failed, the job she’d dreamed of since she was a child now belonged to her cousin, and her best friend had gone walkies on her birthday. All she’d wanted was a hug and a pat on the shoulder, for once; just some smidgeon of reassurance that things couldn’t possibly get worse, and that this too would pass. After all, she spent every waking moment being strong for everyone else, and she’d desperately needed someone to take the world off her shoulders for just one minute.
And what had Oliver done? Pretty much told her to get over herself and stop whining.
Her jaw hardened and she took another sip of scotch, the amber liquid infusing her throat with heat as it slid down. Chloe Sullivan didn’t seek sympathy. It wasn’t often that she showed vulnerability, so Oliver’s terse words had stung her deeply. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“You know,” he was saying smoothly as he nocked another arrow and took aim, “sometimes you just need to take your fun…” he released the arrow, which sailed swiftly through the air and thudded into the practice board, “…where you can get it.”
Oh, here we go, she thought cynically as she stared at his back. The Oliver Queen Approach to life’s problems: Sex Conquers All.
Whoopee.
Literally.
Now all she needed was to find a handsome stranger and politely ask if she could jump his bones, and she’d be sitting pretty. Only after the whole Alec fiasco, it would probably be best to insist on taking a look at some ID first, no matter how well-developed his abs were. She shuddered, cringing as she realised how just close she’d come to jumping a twelve-year old.
Fuck my life, she thought sullenly. Fuck it hard.
“…and sometimes,” Oliver went on, a slight edge to his voice this time, “…it’s right in front of your face.” He turned and fixed her with an intense gaze. “You just have to want to see it.”
Whoa. Did he just…?
Chloe’s eyes widened, her heart thudded in double-time, and she felt her skin grow warm at the implication of his words. Oliver Queen had just…propositioned her. And from the look of things, he wasn’t giving her time to think her way out of it, because he smiled and inclined his head towards the practice board.
“C’mon.”
Chloe still wasn’t sure exactly what was going on here, but she was done being the careful one, weighing every decision and taking everything so seriously. She took a huge gulp of scotch and swallowed before slowly, but resolutely, setting the glass down on the table with a dull thunk.
She swayed a little as she rose to her feet, feeling slightly light-headed, and padded over to him. Oliver stepped back a little, allowing her to slip into the spot he’d just vacated. Carefully she slipped her left hand beneath his fingers to take hold of the bow, feeling slightly unnerved as his fingers settle ed lightly over hers.
With her eyes on the target Chloe pulled back the arrow, her arm wobbling slightly as the tensile strength within the string increased. Oliver steadied her trembling arm with a strategically placed hand on her elbow, sliding his fingers up her forearm until his right hand rested over hers.
She was, for all intents and purposes, in Oliver Queen’s arms.
That light-headed feeling intensified, and she was absolutely sure now that it had nothing to do with the liqueur warming her belly. Focus, she warned herself sternly. Think about the arrow in your hand, not the one pressing into your…
Oh, my God. He’s totally turned on. And I can totally feel it.
Not exactly how she’d imagined her day winding up, but now that they were here, like this…
“How do I know when to let go?” she asked in a breathy whisper, fully expecting Oliver to shrug and say ‘whenever you’re ready,’ or some such.
“It’s all about your heart,” he murmured close to her ear, his words sending a luscious tingle down her spine. His fingers brushed over hers lightly, making her buzz and thrum with sexual energy. Chloe inhaled slowly and stared at his fingers, feeling a seismic shift in the atmosphere. Something was about to change; something huge.
“Right there, between the beats,” he went on quietly, stroking her fingers as the heat from his body warmed the entire back of hers. “That’s when you let go.”
Chloe swallowed hard, her eyes still on his questing fingers. She returned her gaze to the target and focused on the red dot in the centre, her mind on his words.
Right there, between the beats…
She took a deep breath and pulled the wire as taut as it would go and held it in position. Only then did Oliver slowly drop his right hand, as if sensing that this was something she needed to do on her own, yet never removing his left hand from hers, silently offering support.
Chloe held her breath and took her cue from the steady thrum of her heartbeat. She must have stood there for more than a minute, poised but not quite ready. And then she felt it; a calm, a brief, sudden sense of peace that assuaged her between one heartbeat and the next.
Now.
Her fingers left the feathered tip and the arrow shot forward, whistled through the air and embedded itself straight in the centre of the practice board.
Bullseye.
She’d done it.
“I did it,” she whispered hollowly. “I let go.”
“You let go,” Oliver confirmed behind her. “Congratulations, Chloe.”
“I let go,” she repeated, feeling a strange sense of loss. She lowered the bow and turned to Oliver in alarm, the sudden emptiness overwhelming her, making her mind reel. “I let…”
“It’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her trembling shoulders. “Hold on to me. Just hold on to me.”
“I let go…” she said in a choked voice as she found herself surrounded by Oliver’s body heat, her face pressed up against his chest. She reached for him blindly, one arm finding its way around his waist and the other clutching the front of his t-shirt in a tight fist.
And that’s when it hit her; emotion, strong and thick as a tidal wave, almost knocking her over with its intensity.
The effect was instantaneous, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it. Chloe erupted into sobs; harsh, gut-wrenching sobs that were drawn from the deepest corners of her heart and soul, and she cried as though she would never stop.
Oliver’s arms tightened around her heaving shoulders, and her sobs became louder and louder until she was crying openly, weeping for the loss of a love that she’d always longed for but never received. In that swift moment, she finally accepted the truth: that every ‘heartfelt’ word he’d ever uttered to her had been a lie.
Chloe, I could never outgrow you. Other than vertically.
I don’t know what I’d do without you, Chloe…
I’m serious, Chloe: you mean a lot more to me than you know…
You’ve saved me again, Chloe…
You’re the best friend and most trusted ally I could have ever hoped for…
And so on and so forth. Memory after memory came crashing over her, and she wept for what might have been; what she’d hoped and prayed for over ten long years, dreaming of the day their love would finally come to fruition.
But it wasn’t to be. When push had come to shove, she wasn’t the one he had wanted. Her cousin, however, had been. And the pain of losing the man she loved to a woman who was family was more than she could bear.
So she wept, and wept freely; for the decade of love in her heart that had gone unrequited, and needed to be released like the ashes of a loved one scattered into the vastness of the open sea.
Oliver’s hands softly stroked her back and her hair, and his fingers tenderly wiped away the tears coursing down her cheeks. He rocked her gently from side to side as she rode out the emotional storm, silently offering comfort. Every so often she’d remember something Clark had said, some kiss on the cheek or a hug that had gone on longer than normal, and she’d break into fresh tears, clutching Oliver’s t-shirt and sobbing loudly into his chest.
“Let it go, Chloe,” he soothed. “That’s it. It’s okay. Just let it all go.”
She must have cried for at least half an hour before her sobs began to subside, calmed by Oliver’s soothing words. After a long, long while, the tears stopped but she remained in Oliver’s arms, unwilling to leave the comfort and safety he was providing. She drew in shaky breaths, the odd sniffle escaping her as she wound down.
She’d done it. It had taken ten years and a truckload of tears, but she’d finally let Clark go. And she felt so, so much lighter.
And speaking of tears…
“Be sure to send me the dry-cleaning bill for this, okay?” she said timidly, poking the sodden front of Oliver’s t-shirt.
Oliver chuckled, his laugh a deep rumble against her chest. “Feeling better now?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He patted her shoulder softly and wiped the last of the tears away from her puffy face.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, beginning to feel the first twinges of embarrassment. Goodness, she’d just exposed her emotional underbelly to Oliver Queen, of all people, right after she’d promised herself not to. He was going to be smirking about this for a week.
“You’re very welcome,” he replied.
She tenses in readiness waited for him to loosen his hold on her, but it seemed he wasn’t any more ready to let her go than she was to step away from him.
“I’m sorry for all…this,” she said blankly. “I didn’t realise just how upset I was everything that’s happened tonight.”
“But it’s not just about tonight, though, is it?” he asked. “I mean…yeah, I guess this evening was the catalyst, but you’ve been through a lot lately.”
She blinked. Wow. Oliver Queen, empathising with her and acknowledging she’d been through hell. She must be imagining things.
“True, but still…” she sighed and tightened her arms around him. “I thought I was stronger than that.”
He stroked her hair tenderly and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Ten years is a long time to love someone, Chloe,” he said, his voice rife with understanding. “You were letting go of a lot more than just an arrow.”
Chloe lifted her head and stared up at him in surprise. Maybe she’d been wrong about him all along. Apparently, Oliver was a keenly intuitive gentleman, a quality she’d never have ever associated with him before today. Then again, she might as well have attached bells and whistles to the heart she’d worn on her sleeve with Clark’s name on it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the source of her tears.
“Thank you, Oliver,” she whispered. “Thank you for understanding.”
He gave her a warm smile. “You did the same for me not too long ago,” he said softly. “I’m just returning the favour.”
Well, at least someone appreciated all her hard work, she thought wryly, smiling up at him. He gazed back at her, his face turning serious as his body inevitably reacted to being pressed flush against hers.
Aaaaand we’re back here again.
Chloe’s cheeks warmed as she felt a firmness nudging against her belly, hard and insistent. She stared at Oliver and remained still, unsure whether or not to bring it to his attention. Which was silly; he was the one making no attempt to disguise the unapologetic hard-on he was sporting; surely he had to know she could totally feel that.
Still, she felt she had to break the ice before things crossed from ‘we had a moment…’ into ‘totally awkward’ territory. Hey, Oliver…is that an arrow in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?, that sort of thing, and she opened her mouth to say just that.
“You can use me,” he said suddenly.
She blinked and stared. “What?” she whispered, knowing what she’d heard but not quite believing she’d heard it.
Oliver’s hands slowly slid to her hips and he pulled her forward so that her pelvis was pressed right up against his. “You need this,” he said gently. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
“But I do mind,” she replied, even as her body tingled at his touch. “Oliver, I can’t ask that of you-”
“You’re not the one that’s asking, Chloe.”
She swallowed. “And I appreciate it, really I do, but Oliver - this is way, way more than doing a friend a favour.”
“He chuckled. “I should hope so.”
But she shook her head. “I can’t; it’s not fair to you,” she argued.
He sighed. “Once again, I’m the one giving you permission, so you’ve nothing to feel guilty or apologetic for.” He took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm, then stroked the spot with his tongue, making a small shiver run through her.
“It’s okay,” he repeated softly. “Go ahead, Chloe; take what you want. You need this.”
Chloe felt her already thready resolve weakening further, wavering between need and want and propriety. She felt so lost and empty, and Oliver was right: she needed to feel alive again, even if only for a moment.
Oliver sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth, and her knees wobbled weakly. She really shouldn’t use him like this, but he was making it so difficult to refuse, and it had been so long since anyone had wanted to do something for her, to make her feel better.
Oliver stroked her hair with one hand and held her to him with the other, waiting for her to make that all-important first move. Chloe stared into his eyes before dropping her gaze to his mouth, lifting her hand on his chest to stroke his lower lip with one finger.
Just a kiss, she thought, knowing even as she told herself that that if she pressed her lips to his, everything would change and there would be no going back. That seismic shift she’d felt before returned, only this time the feeling was stronger than ever.
Maybe Oliver’s intuitions had been spot on, and this was exactly what she needed: change, and in a big way.
So she rose up on tip-toe, burrowed a hand into his hair and pulled his head down to hers.
And the moment his lips touched hers, she truly let go.
So let go; let go…
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's alright
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
***
The End.
Read Beauty in the Breakdown II: Taking Hold
And don’t worry, I’ll be picking up right where I left off! ;-)