Welcome to My Chlollie World...

Welcome to my blog. I've created it mainly as a place to archive my writings. Currently, my focus is on the pairing of Chloe Sullivan/Oliver Queen of Smallville, also affectionately known in fandom, as Chlollie. I began writing for this couple as Smallville entered it's seventh season, not ever really expecting them to become Smallville canon. So imagine my pleasant surprise (okay, I squealed like a fangirl in the throes of a fangasm) when the showrunners decided to put them together. I don't know what the show will do with them, but I don't care. I'll always adore them, and Chlollie will ALWAYS be my One True Pairing. I write about them for fun, as creative outlet, and because I think they're perfect together, and have the potential to be a supercouple, comic-book "mythos" be damned. The Green Arrow of Smallville belongs with his Watchtower. Most of my stories contain adult content, so please don't read if you are under the age of 18. All story graphic arts and manips are created by me unless otherwise stated. Feedback is always welcome. Thank you for reading!

And now for the boring stuff so no one sues me. Feel free to read it in that fast talking lawyer kind of voice, like at the end of a radio commercial.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Final note: I never believed in the years that I've loved this couple, that the show would do the right thing by them. But as a fangirl I just have to say, OMGOMGOMG! THEY ARE MARRIED!!! Thank you, Smallville for giving my couple the happy ending they deserve!

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Anything But Ordinary Chapter 8

Anything But Ordinary
Chapter 8

He hadn’t stopped thinking of her since she’d left earlier that morning. There was apologizing, and a bit of awkward shyness on her part at awakening in his arms, in his bed. He simply gazed down at her in amusement as she began blustering and talking in that fast way she had when embarrassed and flustered. He reassured her that it was completely all right, and that under the circumstances there was absolutely nothing to apologize for, after all, it wasn’t every day that powerful red-eyed creatures with large teeth and claws attacked and tried to shred him to bits. It wasn’t every day that someone healed him and took on his pain. She was near death because of him, and staying with her was the least he could do. Her wanting someone nearby was completely understandable. It was nothing to worry about. She seemed satisfied with this, but then before she left, she surprised him by stepping up on tiptoe, thanking him with a quick, soft, tentative kiss on the cheek, then turning away toward the elevator without another word. Oliver must have stood anchored to the floor in front of the elevator for a good five minutes after she left.

The phone rang just as he was about to enter his Green Arrow room. His intention was to patrol tonight and find that beastly thing. At the sound, he did an about face, and headed for his desk, picking up his cell phone.

“Chloe. Is everything all right?”

“Oliver, I need to see you as soon as possible. Tess just paid me a visit, but there’s something else. Something on one of the files I want you to look at with me about Veritas, and… possibly, your parents.”

He wondered what information the Luthorcorp files could contain on his parents, and why Tess would seek out Chloe. Something in his gut twisted. None of it could be good. “Are you at ISIS?”


“Have you had dinner yet?”

Chloe glanced up at the clock, noting the hour nearing 8:00 pm. “No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll bring something for us, and be there as soon as I can.”

Twenty minutes later, Oliver was there with a bag of take-out Chinese food. Chloe’s face caused his greeting to die in his throat.

She looked up at him, a pained, wary expression in her eyes.

“What is it?” he asked, setting the food down and coming to stand next to her at the computer screen to peer over her shoulder.

“I’ve printed out what relevant information I could find.” She bit her lip, her eyes wary as she handed him the papers.

Oliver glanced down at them, then up at her, a reluctant question in his eyes, not certain he was ready for this. He moved away from her to pace the room, skimming over the words.

“Your parents were involved in Veritas. A secret little elite club along with the Luthors, the Teagues, and Dr. Virgil Swann.” Her soft voice sounded behind him. “They were preparing for the arrival of the Traveler. They were sworn to secrecy and sought to protect and possibly control him if need be, because once here on earth he would have superhuman powers and abilities, he’d be almost god-like among mere mortals.”

Oliver lifted his head from the papers in his hand, turning to gaze at her. “Clark.”


Oliver lowered his eyes turning away from her once more. “Every one of them is dead.”

Chloe stepped close beside him. “The only surviving children are you and possibly Lex. Lionel was one of the last remaining parents.”

Oliver continued to read the pages in his hand, his eyes scanning quickly. “They were murdered,” he uttered in disbelief, the shock striking him like a blow to the gut. He lifted his eyes from the paper to look at her. Chloe had never seen his handsome face pinched with the heart-rending pain of sorrow. She had seen anger, humor, desire, and indifference in his expression, but never this. Chloe felt his pain wrench in her own breast, and casting her eyes downward, placed a gentle hand over the fist that clutched the now partially wrinkled papers in his hand.

“No,” he said abruptly, a tone of harsh finality in his voice, turning away from her, his voice low and raspy. He walked toward the middle of the room, his back to her, his head bowed. He didn’t want her pity.

Chloe stared at his broad back a moment, compassion sweeping through her. “Oliver.”

Sorrow, quickly turning to anger washed over him. The walls closed in, and air in the room became suddenly stifling. “I need to get out of here,” he said, his voice deep, rough edged with deadly calm.

The papers he held, fell from his fingers to float scattering across the floor. Chloe walked toward him, screaming silently at the injustice that had brought him to this. She couldn’t let him leave. Hadn’t he comforted her? Her heart ached for him, longing to give him that same comfort. She approached him, placing a small hand on his back, sensing the tension radiating from his body through his dark shirt. “No. Don’t leave Ollie. Not this way. Let’s think about this first.”

There was nothing to think about. His parents had been murdered, and he needed to do something, anything to quell his rage. Oliver whirled, turning on her suddenly, startling her, his large hands gripping her shoulders, fingers biting into her flesh, his eyes fiery with the vengeance that burned in his soul. The words he would say though, died on his lips and were quickly forgotten when he saw her face, heard the startled gasp that escaped her; saw the tears that were for him, welling up shining in her expressive green eyes, mirroring his own pain. He couldn’t speak at all. A tear slipped down her cheek, and then he felt her gentle, trembling fingertips reach up to touch his chest, the sides of his neck, his cheeks, soothing him, easing his rage. He loosened his grip as her fingers trailed slowly upward, caressing him. His expression softened, his breathing shallow.

“Oliver,” her breath shuddered. “I’m so sorry, please… don’t go.” His own sorrow reflected back to him when he gazed into her eyes.

All at once, his hands slid around her, strong arms sweeping her up, crushing her to his chest. A heart-rending groan of angst left him as he lowered his head, and burying his face in her hair, he emitted a sound of anguish. His eyes squeezed shut, his throat constricting, as he tried to keep his raw emotion in check. The memory of his parents’ death, and the small boy who’d endured it, flooding back, threatening to wash him away in a tidal wave, but for this woman in his arms; his lifeline. She would share his pain again, the knowledge binding him to her ever more deeply. Oliver rocked her slowly, gently for long silent moments, he breathed deeply of her, her nearness calming his soul. He held her until she relaxed against him and he felt her arms encircle his waist, holding him tightly in return, and he knew she had forgiven him his outburst. They held each other until the world fell away, and nothing else existed but two of them, clinging to one another. With arms wrapped securely around each other, for this moment at least, some semblance of peace finally settled in his heart, and Oliver felt like he’d come home at last.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, time didn’t exist, and eventually he slowly lifted his head from the soft curve of her neck. When she met his gaze, he felt an involuntary tightening low in his gut. His dark eyes drifted over her face like a soft caress, he searched her eyes, as though seeking some encouragement from her. Brushing away a tear with the ball of his thumb; his forefinger traced her cheekbone, stopping beneath her chin, lifting toward him gently. God, he wanted, needed to kiss her like he needed the air to breathe.

As their gazes locked, something sensuously charged rippled through their entrancement, something profoundly and tangibly evocative surged between them. Her whole being seemed to be filled with waiting. Kissing Oliver would be all kinds of wrong. The tingling in the pit if her stomach, and the way her heart jolted and her pulse pounded, and the sensation of his hard body pressed against hers, said otherwise. His nearness seemed to fire every nerve in her body, but Chloe didn’t want to cross any lines she’d regret. Kissing him would open a Pandora’s Box of complications she wasn’t certain she could deal with right now, or possibly ever. Thoughts of Jimmy and Lois drifted to her mind unwittingly. This couldn’t be happening now, but the pull of Oliver’s sensuous allure, combined with the overwhelming mix of emotions whirling in them both, was overpowering, and she found herself wanting, needing to kiss him like she needed the air to breathe.

Oliver stared back at her, waiting in silence, an invitation in the smoldering depths of his eyes. Slowly, his eyes lowered, settling on the lushness of her mouth. And as if by some invisible magnetic thread connecting them, his head descended, her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, his lips a whisper away from hers.

The exaggerated sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, bringing them both tumbling back to earth.

Clark had to clear his throat twice before they noticed he was in the room.

The heat of embarrassment flooded Chloe’s cheeks, Oliver’s arms fell away, and he ran a flustered hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck absently as they parted abruptly, and she turned toward the sound. “Clark! Uh… what are you doing here?”

Clark squinted; eyeing them both as if they’d just lost their minds. “You called me, remember?”

Chloe felt the heat, and the brush of Oliver’s body close behind her, it was oddly and intimately comforting, considering they’d gotten caught in an almost kiss. Chloe didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved at Clark’s appearance. It was probably for the best. Not a good idea to kiss him, the timing was completely wrong, he was emotionally vulnerable, and so was she. The past with Jimmy, Lois and a host of other reasons, too numerous to list made it completely wrong.

“I did? Yes. I did.” She swallowed, regaining her composure, moving toward the desk to sit in front of the computer. “Oliver and I found some information on Luthorcorp files,” she went on, comfortable now in her role of disseminating information, giving her something else to focus on. “About Veritas, and his parents’ involvement.” She cast a sympathetic glance at Oliver. “And about their deaths,” she added softly.

A hard glint returned to Oliver’s eyes. “They were murdered. And I will find out who was responsible.”

Clark looked down, hesitating, then exchanging a glance with Chloe, he continued. “The person responsible is dead.” Clark returned his gaze to meet Oliver’s expectant one. “Killed for the same reason your parents were. Lionel Luthor. He orchestrated it.”

Oliver appeared to deflate before their eyes. There was no way to exact revenge or serve justice on a dead man, but perhaps he’d seen his end justifiably, and payback was indeed a bitch. This didn’t do much, however to quell his anguish over the discovery he’d made tonight.

“Clark. Tess came to visit me.”

This mention had the immediate attention of both men.

“She wants me to help her find Lex, and in exchange, she claims to have something that belongs to you. Something very important.” Chloe explained the entire exchange to them.

“She’s dangerous, Chloe,” Oliver interjected. “I know her.”

“And she knows you too, Oliver. You were right, she knows about the green leather fetish. But, I’m curious. Aren’t you? I’ve played with fire before, she doesn’t scare me, and if she can give me information about this creature we’re dealing with, and whatever it is she possesses that belongs to Clark, I think it’s worth a shot. Besides,” she went on, “it’ll give me some inside access to what she’s up to. Meanwhile, Clark, you can keep your eyes and ears open at the Planet.”

The two men eyed each other, each of them concerned for Chloe’s safety, yet knowing she probably had a point.

Clark was the first to relent. “You have to tell us everything, Chloe. Everything you find, anything she does or says, everything you’re working on.”

“Of course,” she smiled triumphantly. “That’s the plan. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if I can round up some plates. Oliver was kind enough to bring dinner.”

After she left the room each man looked at the other, speaking simultaneously.

“Look, Oliver..”


“Whatever I just walked in on, it’s not a good idea.”

“I know.” Oliver blustered for a moment. “It’s just… I found out tonight that my parent’s were murdered… Chloe… she was merely offering me… a hug, trying to calm me down, comfort me… I don’t know what happened.”

Clark nodded, seeming satisfied with this, until Oliver spoke again.

“But whatever is happening between us, I’m not going to stop it, unless Chloe tells me she doesn’t want it.”

“Are you crazy? She’s just broken off an engagement; you’re busy working on your next conquest. Chloe’s not the kind of woman you can use and discard, Oliver. She’s not one of your hookups…”

“I know she’s not,” Oliver interrupted.

“You two have been spending a lot of time together. She’s vulnerable right now. Don’t use her like that.”

“Do you think you’re telling me anything I don’t know, Clark? Do you think I haven’t thought about this? Do you really think I would use her like that, when I could easily find a ‘hookup’? Come on, Clark. She’s a friend. I care about her. Give me some credit.”

“Then what’s going on?” Clark demanded.

“I… I don’t know exactly. I think I’m…” Oliver lowered his head, glancing away nervously. “I think I’mfallinginlovewithher,” he mumbled incoherently.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Oliver lifted his head to find Clark scrutinizing him. “Pretty bad timing, huh?”

“I’d say so. Among other things, like your reputation, and let’s not forget to mention, Lois.”

He released a heavy breath, his voice resigned. “I know.”

Clark couldn’t help but sense Oliver’s sincerity. “Give her some time. How patient are you?”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot of work, proving yourself, your intentions, to her.”

“She’s worth it.”

“Have you talked to Lois?”

“Uh… about Chloe? No.”

“It might help. Chloe won’t become involved with you without her blessing, you know that right?”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

“Maybe not. Lois cares about both of you.” Clark shrugged. “If she believes you’re serious about Chloe, she might even help move things along. Lois never really did think Chloe and Jimmy were a good match.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Make that three.”

“Three what?” Chloe asked as she swept into the room carrying plates and forks for all of them.

“Three glasses,” Clark said, quickly noting that she carried none. “I’ll get them.”

Oliver took the plates from her. “Are you okay? I mean, are we okay?”

She smiled up at him reassuringly, nodding. “Yeah.” She knew he was referring to the almost-kiss, but decided not to dwell on something that didn’t even happen, and besides, it was nothing really. “Are you okay? I’m sorry you had to find out about your parents… like that.”

He took her hand. “I’m not okay, but… I’m glad you’re here with me.”

* * * * *

Davis Bloom awoke in a darkened alley naked as the day he was born. This wasn’t the first time. He’d been having blackouts recently, long periods of time that he’d lost, couldn’t account for, not knowing where he’d been or what he’d done. He’d find himself in places he never recalled visiting, always waking up somewhere, always without benefit of clothing. What was happening to him? He’d heard of people that would sleepwalk, and carry out every day tasks, driving, even grocery shopping in their sleep. He wasn’t certain such things were really possible, but if so, it might explain what was happening to him.

He searched the dumpster for something to cover himself with, finding a cardboard box. It was better than nothing. Glancing around he tried to discern where he was so that he could make his way home again. He vowed to see a doctor, maybe have some tests done, find out what was wrong with him.

Rounding the building, he realized he was at the ISIS Foundation. The lights were on, Chloe must be here, but he couldn’t let her see him like this. Just as he was about to move past the window, he caught sight of her. Oliver Queen was there, taking a small stack of plates from her hands. They were talking. Queen took her hand tenderly. She smiled up at him, and then Queen leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, just before Clark entered the room carrying three glasses. Davis’s blood ran hot at the sight of them. He blinked, shaking his head to clear it, remembering that he was standing there in nothing but a cardboard box and that he’d better get home before someone noticed him.

End Chapter 8

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