Chlollie Fanfic: Taking Turnsies (Oneshot) PG-13
I’m doing it again. Writing my Chlollie stories out of order.
I still haven’t finished Love For Realsies (grr!), and I have about 4 stories in between that story and this one here, but I saw sanaazzy’s manip and this story just wrote itself. Don’t worry, though - I’m going to fill in all the blanks at some point, but for now, just enjoy this little oneshot. J
Banner by the awesomely talentedsanaazzy. I love it. Thanks babes! Oh, and many happy returns to smallvillefics, kryptolori and flareonfury. Hope you all had/have a fantastic birthday!!! : )
Title: Taking Turnsies
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie, oneshot
Rating: PG-13. Companion piece/Sequel to Love For Realsies.
Warnings: None. Well…spoilers to my Funsies Series, nothing else.
Timeline: Futurefic, about 3 years after the end of Realsies.
Disclaimer: All characters (minus a few) belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe and Oliver discover that parenthood comes with great responsibility…and the sacrifice of their morning lie-in.
Feedback: Yes, always! J
Previous works in the series:
Just for Funsies (NC-17)
Love for Realsies (NC-17)
Pillow Talksies (R)
Over the Linesies (PG)
Taking Turnsies
“Ollie?”
“Nnnggh….”
Chloe shook his shoulder harder. “Ollie, wake up.”
“Mmm hmm…” he murmured drowsily, turning and burrowing himself further under the covers. “…love you too, sugar.”
Chloe folded her arms and glared. “Oliver!” she said sharply.
His eyes flicked open instantly. “Huh? Whassup?”
“Libby’s crying.”
Oliver Queen sat up in bed and rubbed his bleary eyes, blinking as the lights on the baby monitor signalling his 5-month old daughter’s very vocal displeasure at something.
He turned his tired gaze to his wife. “How do you know it’s Libby?” he asked groggily.
Chloe Sullivan-Queen rolled her eyes and tossed her long blonde tresses over her shoulder. “I’m their Mom. I know which is which, even from their cries,” she said smugly. “Not only that, I know exactly why she’s crying, and it’s because she needs a change. That’s you, Papa.”
Oliver groaned and flopped back down, plonking the pillow over his head.
“D’you think she might give me just five more minutes?” came the muffled plea from beneath the pillow. I was up with Jo till almost four in the morning.”
Chloe snorted. “We wait five more minutes, and Jo will be joining her,” she warned. “The sooner you sort Libs out, the better.”
As if agreeing with her mother, little Olivia Danielle Queen’s cries escalated, making the lights on the monitor go from green to yellow, then orange, then red. Oliver hastily tossed the covers back, got out of bed and headed down the hall, and soon enough she heard his voice, low and soothing as he comforted their older twin.
Chloe grinned to herself and snuggled under the duvet, delighted that her little plan had worked. It was particularly naughty of her to have sent Oliver out on baby duty at 5:00am, especially since he’d already done his own due diligence with JoAnn until four; though in her defence (and even though considerable time had passed since then), she’d had a particularly harrowing experience with the birth, and therefore felt completely justified to swipe a few zzz’s from her husband every so often.
As the strains of Ollie’s lullaby reached her ears, Chloe snuggled under the covers and tucked her head under the pillow, determined to enjoy the next hour or so of shut-eye whilst she still could. She knew it wouldn’t be long until Oliver realised he’d been had.
***
Two and a half hours later, the pillow was unceremoniously plucked from her head.
“‘I know their cries’, she said. ‘She just needs a change,’ she said,” he mimicked.
Chloe turned sleepily in bed and looked up in wide-eyed innocence at Oliver’s scowling face. “Oops. Did I get it wrong?”
“Well, it was Libby, like you said, but it wasn’t changing she needed.”
“No?” she said, stifling a giggle as her husband reached down and mock-throttled her.
“It was the teething, and you know it,” he accused, getting into bed beside her. “You tricked me, Mrs Queen.”
“Hmm…much like you tricked me into getting pregnant in the first place?” she said sweetly.
Oliver’s face lit up in a huge, unashamed grin and he dug his chin into the pillow. “Touché. But as I’ve said several times since we first discovered we were expecting, I don’t regret it, and I’m not going to apologise for it.”
“And I never expected you to,” she said with a grin as she snuggled up to his back. “I just like to hold it over your head every now and then.”
“Yeah, because you know I can never refuse you anything,” he said tenderly, sitting up and stroking her hair. “I gotta admit, it’s a great way to get out of late night feeds and changes.”
Chloe blushed and looked slightly repentant. “I’m sorry, Ollie,” she said meekly. “I know the deal; I get the feeds, you get the changes, and we both walk the floors when the girls are teething. I owe you one.”
Oliver flashed her a warm smile. “You know I love every second I get to spend with my girls,” he said. “They bring me more joy with every day that passes. I’d stand over them 24/7 if I could.”
“True, but you need sleep just as much as every other person on the planet, and I just deprived you of several hours worth,” she said in glum self-reproach.
“There is that,” he said, stroking his chin dramatically. “Tell you what; you grant me any and all sexual favours I ask of you today, and we’ll call it even.”
“Oh, it’s a deal,” she said, stroking his chest all the way down to the waistband of his pyjama pants. “Though I’m not sure how much time we’ll actually have to get up to any hanky-panky; not if Jo kicks off.”
“JoAnn Ellenore Queen never ‘kicks off’, it’s not her style,” Oliver said fondly of his younger twin daughter. “She just whimpers gracefully until she’s attended to. And she woke up just as her sister was dropping off, but I managed to get her back to sleep, so she’ll be fine as well for at least an hour.”
Chloe brightened. “Ooh! A whole hour, you say?” she said suggestively, pushing her husband’s shoulder so that he went over onto his back. “There’s a lot I can do with you in one hour, Mr Queen.”
Oliver grinned and lifted his wife all the way over him, settling her legs on either side of his hips. “That, Mrs Queen, is what I’m banking on.”
***
The End.