Title: Falling

Pairing: Chlollie

Disclaimers: I don't own anything.

Lust is easy or so she's been told. Passion without any of the ties. Simple carefree pleasure, indulgent and easy.

Only she, she muses, could mess up an arrangement so simple and blur the lines between want and need to reveal a mess of emotions that don't belong.

Hearing the bathroom door click open, Chloe smiles when Oliver, showered and rumpled strolls back in to the bedroom and he responds with a bright familiar grin of his own. Blue towel slung low on his hips, he takes his time rifling through his huge wardrobe.

"A board meeting and lunch with the mayor," he tells her when she teases him about his vanity.

"What do you think?"

He holds up a navy blue suit and she shakes her head. Slipping out of bed and wrapping the silky sheet around herself, she wanders over to him. Reaching past him, bare arm brushing his, she pulls out a charcoal pinstriped suit, a particular favourite of hers. It's only when he thanks her by pulling her into his arms that she closes up, drawing away from his kisses.

Waking up together, teasing and flirting, it all smacks too much of a shared life and early morning routines and that's not what this is about. They set the terms that first night and this wasn't part of the deal.

Sweet uncomplicated desire and paths that diverge the morning after. That's what he'd promised. That was what he'd wanted, she reminds herself.

He's puzzled as she slips out of his arms, throws her a curious look, "Something wrong?"

"No," She shrugs and avoiding his inquisitive eyes, blows him a breezy kiss as she heads to the bathroom, "I just need to shower."

Nothing's wrong.

She repeats the mantra to herself as she stands still as under the hard spray of too hot water, letting it sluice over her, washing away the scent of him.

Of them.

Another newspaper and another headline. One more glossy photograph of Oliver to add to the countless others. Arm linked with a beautiful rich socialite at a star studded charity event in Star City, he looks relaxed.

Happy even.

And she wonders if she's the only one that can see through the façade.

Playboy billionaire. The society pages love him for his tragic past and effortless charm, the smooth talking and the carefully placed donations.

He's cultivated the image well and it's not the Oliver Queen she knows. It's not the Green Arrow either and she's aware that's why he keeps the mask in place. It would be dangerous, far too dangerous, for anyone to link the two most infamous names in Star City.

She skims the article, eyes drawn to the photograph again, to the strain hidden behind his smile and her throat constricts reflexively.

She's not surprised when a black chauffeured limousine pulls up outside the Daily Planet that night waiting to escort her to his Metropolis apartment.

Lying awake next to Oliver, she lets herself remember and she remembers a lot of things.

The first desperate kiss in the Watchtower; the culmination of weeks spent in close proximity and an attraction that just wouldn't die. The feel of his mouth, hot against hers and the sound of Victor's expensive equipment falling and crashing around them as they stumbled and pushed their way out of there, leaving behind a trail of destruction.

The first morning she woke up in his bed, naked and vulnerable. The surprising lack of awkwardness and his refreshing honesty.

Sex. It was just sex.

He wasn't ready for anything else and her admittance that she wasn't either eased his tension. They were both free. Single. The arrangement suited them and everything else was glossed over.

She can't quite remember when it began to change and that strikes her as odd.

Maybe it was the first time they lingered in bed. The way he held her after she woke up and refused to let her go, planting little kisses on her collarbone and making her giggle, telling her she looked beautiful when she laughed.

Or maybe it was the first time she stayed for breakfast and he brought her orange juice and toasted chocolate croissants on a tray decorated with a single rose.

Or, it occurs to her that it could easily have been when they began to meet up to simply talk and not for rough hasty meetings and nights spent in hotel rooms. Oh, it was always under the guise of JLA business, files and papers strewn between them for authenticity. Papers that were never looked at JLA missions that were never discussed.

"What are you thinking about?"

His breath tickles her ear, snapping her out of her thoughts and she turns to him. Sleepy eyes regard her curiously and there's something very personal about the way he watches her.

"Nothing in particular."

He regards her quietly for a moment and she can almost see the cogs turning in his head. "Liar," He whispers softly and she doesn't refute his jab.

"Go back to sleep Ollie," She smoothes a hand over his cheek, "You've got an early flight and a crazy mission ahead of you."

Bart's been missing for 72 hours and Oliver's been scouring streets for almost as long. When he comes to her, limp and exhausted, defeat weighing down his shoulders, they break the rules of their relationship and simply hold each other. Comfort each other.

She sits with him and Clark takes over the ground search with Victor instructing him on Bart's last movements and AC searching the coast.

"He can cover more ground in less time. Much less time."

Oliver grimaces, bitterness twisting his lips and she knows she's said the wrong thing even before he speaks.

"You don't need to remind me."

He sounds resigned and her chest tightens. She wants to take back her words. Well intentioned but misguided, they're an untimely reminder that he's the most vulnerable one of the team. And she hates how he closes in on himself, helplessness compounding his guilt.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

For a moment she wonders if she's imagined the words but when she looks up, it's to find him staring at her intently. The crease between his brows pronounced and she's never seen him so serious, so aware. His gaze locks her, keeps her mind from spiralling back in time to another man uttering the same words.

She doesn't say anything, waits for him to repeat them, something a lot like hope unfurling in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"You keep me sane Chloe."

She moves then, inches closer to him and slips her hand in his, squeezing his fingers tightly. She won't hold him to it. He's worried, scared, and it's no surprise he wants an anchor, to hold on to someone real to keep from drowning.

She knows what that feels like.

He's waiting for her after work. He looks dishevelled and tired leaning casually against the entrance to the Daily Planet and her heart skips a beat and she knows she's done convincing herself that they're just friends who sleep together.

It was a stupid idea to begin with. It's all or nothing now and she wonders if she's going to lose him completely.

He straightens up when he sees her, smiling tentatively but she doesn't return it. She hasn't seen him since she healed Bart 6 days ago and his absence when she woke up hurt. It hurt a lot. A lot more then it should have.

"I waited and I waited but when you didn't wake up, it terrified me."

His voice is hoarse and he stares blankly ahead as he speaks, "I couldn't imagine my life without you." He laughs bitterly, eyes grazing hers briefly before he looks away again, "That wasn't supposed to happen."

No it wasn't but she's glad, so glad, that she's not the only one that it's happening to.

"When did it happen Chloe?"

He sounds utterly bemused and she shrugs helplessly. She wants to tell him that maybe it's been happening since the beginning but can't quite find the words and if that's not unlike her then she doesn't know what is.

And then suddenly he's walking towards hers, taking long impatient strides and she's in his arms and they're hugging. He holds her tight, muttering unintelligible words against her hair and covering her face with kisses and tears spring unbidden to her eyes.

She blinks them away and buries her face into his chest.

"Lois," She takes a liberal sip of her mineral water and wonders if she shouldn't be drinking something stronger.

"It was a long time ago Chloe and we've both moved on. She's with Bruce and me, well, I've fallen for this perky little blonde…"

"Hey," She hurls a cushion at him, indignantly, "Less of the little…and the perky."

He catches the cushion easily and flashes her a wide cheeky grin before placing it behind his head and reclining on the sofa with his feet in her lap. "My turn," he rubs his chin thoughtfully, letting the silence draw out before speaking, "Clark."

She shrugs. She's anticipated this, "What about him?"

"You tell me."

"He's my best friend."

It's taken a long time but she can finally say this without lying. She loves Clark, a part of her always will

He holds her gaze for a long time, "Your best friend."

"Yes."

"Well then," he inclines he head, "I think that's everything covered."

She grins, "So this is it then. We've had the talk and now we're officially dating."

He nods, "Bring on the his and hers towels and bicycle made for two."

She looks down at him affectionately, "You're so weird."

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