Oliver Queen

Oliver stood on her doorstep less than fifteen minutes later, a single red rose in his hand as he knocked and waited. He was well-aware of what she'd been up to that afternoon with texting him while he was in a board meeting. She'd clearly learned that anticipation was almost as fun as the rest of their time together.

And he was full of anticipation.



(NC-17 in this thread.)

Oliver hadn't slept. Despite the fact he hadn't been sleeping well the last few weeks, he usually got at least a couple hours of rest every night. But not that night. That night he was wide awake, afraid that if he fell asleep, Chloe would never wake up. It haunted him at night.

Even months after she'd healed him, brought him back from the dead, died herself and somehow recovered, his mind tormented him with it. And in those dreams, she never recovered. It all felt too familiar for sleep to take him.

So he stayed awake, holding her, watching her, listening to the sound of her quiet, even breathing. His chest was tight with fear. Any breath could be her last, he thought, feeling vaguely ill.

Oliver had just sat down to a plate of leftover fettuccinni in his Star City apartment when a familiar gust of wind blew it right off the table.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face and moving to clean it up as he shook his head. "Bart, man, you gotta quit doing that," he grumbled.

It wasn't quite seven in the evening when Oliver pulled his car into the underground garage below the clock tower. Already his stomach felt twisted and he hadn't even shut off the engine. He hadn't seen her in nearly two months, and in that time he'd only spoken with her twice--once on the phone and once via email.

Both had been business-related.

Both she'd initiated.

Sighing softly, he shut off the engine, but didn't get out of his car, gripping tightly onto the steering wheel and willing himself to get his shit together. At least he was only in town for a couple of days. And during the day he'd be at the office anyway.

Oliver stared out the windshield for a long moment, then forced himself to get out of the car, grabbing his duffel bag from the passenger seat and hefting it onto his shoulder. He'd spent the majority of the time over the last few weeks working--either at Q.I. or as Green Arrow. The rest of it he'd spent trying very hard to forget Chloe Sullivan, and any feelings he had for her that were even slightly more than platonic.

Which was all of them.

He'd done the usual--drinking and partying, and even though the tabloids had been reporting his 'playboy' self was back yet again, he hadn't done anything more than dancing with the women he'd been unknowingly photographed with at the time.

Raking a hand through his hair, he slowly headed toward the private elevator and climbed on it, holding his breath for a moment. Sixteen stories until he'd see her again.

And he wished he had something heavy to drink.

The last thing he was expecting to see when he opened the gate to the penthouse apartment was a scattering of boxes, some half-packed, some already taped up, and others simply sitting around open and empty.

Oliver drew in a breath and let it out slowly as he glanced at Chloe sideways while they made their way into the hospital. He wanted to reach out and take her hand as a show of support, if nothing else. She'd been quiet most of the morning so far, and he could practically feel the tension in her body without even having to touch her. His own body was tense--because he still wasn't sure this was a good idea. But this was Chloe's mother, and this was her decision to make, not his.

And he'd stand by her. If she'd let him.

Resting a hand lightly at the small of her back, he guided her into the elevator, and waited until the doors slid shut before turning to look at her.

"Are you sure about this?" His voice was very soft.

Oliver stared out over Metropolis from his place on the roof of the clock tower. Christmas had been surprisingly calm and nice, despite the way Clark had kept staring at him throughout dinner, like he knew something was going on but couldn't quite figure out what it was. It had been nice to see Mrs. Kent, as well.

But things between him and Chloe were still off and he wasn't sure it could be fixed. Not that there was anything to fix, really. They weren't together.

Sighing softly, he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and turned to head inside once more. He needed to start packing so he could head back to Star City in the morning.

Apparently they'd either been tired, or they'd seen Shaun of the Dead a few too many times, because at some point while watching it, they'd both fallen asleep. When Oliver woke up, he found himself half-sitting and half-laying on the sofa, with Chloe's head resting on a pillow in his lap. One of his hands was resting on the pillow, his fingers gently entwined in her hair.

It was far too intimate for friends, and even for friends-with-benefits, and yet somehow it didn't feel uncomfortable to him at all.

Maybe he was still tired.

Yawning, he let his eyes drift shut once more, exhaling softly and listening to the white noise from the TV.