Title: Little Bit

Genre: Television

Series: Smallville

Characters: Chloe Sullivan, Oliver Queen

Spoilers: 9x14-"Conspiracy", AU after that

Rating: R, for sexual situations

Summary: Sometimes the weight of the world isn't so bad, not when it's the only thing keeping you on the ground.

Author's Note: Inspired by Drake and Lykke Li's song "Little Bit".

Most people find it amusing when asked to do a trust exercise in which you allow yourself to fall, expecting the person you trust to catch you. There was a time when Chloe would have gladly turned her back and cast herself off without another thought. That time was dead and gone, buried under six feet of dirt with Jimmy.

She knew better now.

She wanted to say that she wasn't surprised that Oliver had taken the kryptonite weapons and hidden them from her, but Chloe knew the taste of a lie on her tongue. In all her scheming and planning, exacting her control over every variable so that she'd never be caught off guard again, it honestly hadn't occurred to her that not trusting anyone would eventually mean that no one would trust her.

Oliver had surprised her in many ways, but this was the first one that was unpleasant. Now Chloe was seeing the world through new eyes for the second time in recent months and she didn't know if she liked what she was seeing. She didn't know if she liked the person she was becoming. Even knowing that the road she traveled on was going to lead to her downfall, Chloe couldn't see a way to divert her path. She was unwilling to take that step back into the trusting, optimistic person who got Jimmy killed, and she didn't know where a step forward might take her, what it might make her.

Though Chloe had brushed off Oliver's words to her, the calm was superficial at best. What he'd thought of her, the implications of his words, had sent her reeling and she'd yet to stop spinning. The fact that she didn't wear the hurt and confusion on her face could be accredited to her unwillingness to let anyone so close to her again, but she was just fooling herself. The second she and Oliver had engaged in their secret affair it had been anything but detached. He'd made her feel things, things she hadn't felt since before Jimmy had left her and subsequently died for her.

Even with Jimmy, Chloe had always been very aware of her skin and the weight of it on her. She knew she was attractive, knew she was smart, knew that the combination of genetics and personality had created a creature that men noticed, but not first, never first. There was always someone taller, someone prettier, someone wittier; they noticed her but coming in second never stopped hurting.

Oliver had made her forget that, for a small time, for the first time in a long time. She'd felt weightless in his arms, the only sensation heavier than his breath on her skin was the electric tingle that spread under her skin where they touched. She could feel her mouth curling in remembrance, and her thighs ached from missing him, but Chloe no longer felt the freedom of being with him. Her skin had settled back around her bones with his harsh words and now she only felt suffocated by it.

She didn't tell him any of this. She didn't speak of it with anyone; her thoughts were her own and she'd keep them that way. Even as the weight of the world became a stone in her stomach that dragged her down deeper into the silence that had become her refuge and prison; she didn't tell anyone.

Chloe was working on her laptop when Oliver let himself into the Watchtower. Dr. Emil had long ago left for home, chastising Chloe in a familiar tone and encouraging that she get proper rest that night. Chloe had ignored him as she was wont to do when his analytical eyes saw too much about her current state for comfort. The second he'd gone she'd slid out of her high heeled pumps and settled in front of one of the many monitors and begun her work again, lacing fingers into digital pies and analyzing what she came up with. When her back was stiff from standing in one spot too long, she abandoned the monitor for the couch and her favorite laptop and focused on making contact with several people who were proving elusive. The monitors directly across from the couch were displaying security feeds from the cameras she had installed at her specified choice locations, ensuring no blind spots that heroes or villains could sneak through, and thus she knew Oliver was coming.

She didn't move from her reclined position on the couch, didn't rush to a mirror to straighten her hair or check her make-up, and she didn't make him the drink she knew he'd immediately pour for himself. If she sat a little straighter on the soft cushions, if she turned herself from the door just enough that her hair hid her face, it had nothing to do with Oliver, or so she told herself.

"Hey," his voice called out from the shadows, whispering roughly along her skin and causing an involuntary shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. He closed the door behind him, slipping the green leather hood from his head as he did so. He'd already removed the voice synthesizer and glasses and within seconds he'd pulled off his bow and arrow and set the whole kit and caboodle on her desk.

"Hey, yourself," Chloe responded with a small smile, still not turning towards him. Her fingers moved across the keys of her computer with small harsh clicks that echoed through the room. From the corner of her eye Chloe watched as Oliver poured himself a small glass of bourbon, swilling it and downing it within seconds before setting it aside. She noted the small scratches on his arm, concluded they were from a brick wall he'd obviously collided with mid-fight, and moved on to the other small details of his person. She saw a new cut in his leather pants and made a mental note to have them destroyed and order a replacement. Other than that Oliver seemed physically okay, if a little dirty and sweaty from a hard night's work. She knew he wouldn't have returned until he'd felt his job was done, and Oliver considered getting down in the gritty to be part of that.

"How was your night?" She asked, pretending for a second they were a normal couple who could have normal conversations at the end of the day.

"Stopped two muggings, a rape, and a robbery," Oliver replied with not a little bit of pride. "The second mugger might even have been as strong as Clark." Oliver wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, making his way across the room with long easy strides and settling in next to her. He didn't say anything about the way she was holding herself, only just slightly away from him even as she leaned into the warmth of his body, and for that Chloe was grateful. As much as her heart (and her pride) were still aching from their interactions just a few short weeks ago, she couldn't stop the way her body reacted to him.

"I find that doubtful, but if you say so," she replied, forcing her eyes to stay on the screen and her fingers to keep moving. She wasn't doing anything important, checking the recent activity on some of the Kandorian's tracking devices, and she was grateful for it. Oliver tended to be distracting. Even as she continued to work he was sliding closer on the couch, placing his head on her shoulder to gaze at the screen of what she was working on, his hands settling on her waist and subtly bringing her tighter to his chest. Chloe ignored his actions, mentally, but her body was suddenly and instantly alert and ready for him. Her lungs faltered for a second, her lips parting and sucking in the scent and taste of him that was crowding her senses. Her skin tightened where his body heat flushed against hers, and her toes curled at the inner warmth that bloomed between her legs.

Her body knew his and it reacted and wanted him now, immediately. It didn't want to play the game that Chloe knew they were engaging in, with him pretending to not notice her distance and she pretending she wasn't struggling to hold it.

"What are you working on?" His question was asked against her neck, the soft movement of her hair dancing across hypersensitive skin tantalizingly as he breathed deeply. She knew the way his face looked without bothering to look. She'd made a study of his every expression and knew that the one he wore now meant he was thinking deeply. His eyes would be narrowed, gazing into space at nothing at all as he tried to think his way about something puzzling. Unconsciously his hands tightened on her waist, a sliver away from painful and Chloe gasped, turned her head without thinking. Her cheek slid along the sandpaper of his five o'clock shadow of a beard and she shivered against him, and feeling it his hands closed around her, locking just under her breasts and tugging her into his lap.

Only instincts saved her laptop, and Chloe was at a bit of a loss as to where her conscious thought had run away to. Her fingers were curled around her laptop but Oliver closed it softly and slid it from her numb fingers until it was half-concealed under a couch cushion. Chloe would have protested the action (the dust under there would wreak havoc with the fan) but that would have required thought and she was past that stage of the night.

There was something about the way they fit, her curves to his hollows, her soft to his hard, her back to his front, that was startling. It was as if her nerves were screaming at her that he had no right to feel so damn perfect against her. Her heart screamed at her body for being unable to resist him, her mind screamed at her heart for doing the same, and within seconds her mind had dissolved into a haze of memories and emotion that she refused to give name to even in memories.

Oliver's hands were rough with calluses but gentle as they pulled her back against his chest, her head automatically turning and fitting into the shadows under his dimpled chin. She gave into the urge and nipped lightly at skin just there, the bristles of hair rough on her lips and bringing a blush to her cheeks. A few weeks ago she'd have been cooing quietly into his arms, wrapping small fingers in his short hair and keening for him to get closer. She'd have turned in his arms and they'd have come together in a rush of lust and sex and she wouldn't have had another coherent thought until morning when she woke with aching muscles and a delicious placidity to her muscles that wouldn't fall away until the next adrenaline rush.

In this new game that had formed between them, Chloe didn't make a sound. She waited for him to make the next move, waited for him to need her before she'd reveal her own need of him. If there ever came a time when he didn't need her anymore, she would be glad for the distance because then he'd never see her continue to need him.

There wasn't distance between them that night, though, and he did still need and want her and Chloe was happy for it. She could feel laughter bubbling in her chest, revealed only by the tint of her cheeks and the light of her eyes. She couldn't see his face, she felt him smiling against the naked skin at the nape of her neck, felt his teeth glance across her skin and his tongue soothing the scrape familiarly. She gasped at the sensation and her back curled, drawing her away from him and back towards him at the same time. He chuckled against her skin and Chloe's hands settled over his with a soft scrape of nails that had his grin evolving into something more intense.

There was an edge to his touches, however, and a heavy silence that he practically projected into the room.

Chloe could remember that a short time ago being here with him, in the throes of passion, would have made her feel like she was flying. Lightheaded, thoughts spinning, skin barely containing her, pleasure so strong that she almost choked on it. Every encounter between them unreal, like a wet dream that was more vivid than most and refused to fade in the morning light. As much as she wanted to miss those times, she couldn't. Their first conflict, not even an argument so much as a conflict of wills, had brought them down from the high of newfound passion. It'd given them a gravity that was impossible to shake now.

She couldn't imagine this was a dream. For better or worse, they were real, this was real, and it was as much a gift as it was a curse.

"What were you working on?" Oliver asked again, pressing his face against her cheek and she could feel his gaze dancing across her features. He grinned at the blush, smiled at the dazed look in her eyes, and caught his breath at the soft pants that she was unable to calm.

She turned her head, nose brushing against his and replied, "Nothing important."

"Good," he whispered before taking her lips, immediately possessing every breath she had left in her body. Her hand curled into his hair and locked, unable to regain the control she'd fought so valiantly for just before he'd arrived. His hands were pulling her clothes from her body and she didn't even notice until the artificially cooled air was slashing against passion-fevered flesh. Chloe stopped fighting the inevitable and turned in his arms, her smaller form twisting about easily and settling against him in a slither that forced a groan from his throat.

Chloe smiled softly, biting her bottom lip without thought as she allowed herself a moment to appreciate his stone-carved features. His leather was rough against her skin and her fingers eased the zipper down and the vest from his broad chest without conscious planning. "You're dirty," she noted as she ran her hands over freed skin, feeling the grainy texture of brick dust and just plain dirt under her fingers.

"Absolutely filthy," he agreed, leaning forward until they shared the same breath. Chloe wanted to quip back, say something that would make him give her the small space she desperately wanted in that moment, but as soon as the urge to push him away was there, it was gone. As much as she wanted to bring the bickering personae of their day-to-day life into this encounter, it didn't fit here anymore. Before they became real this could have been playful and fun, they could have sparred verbally even while their bodies came together again and again.

Chloe felt the intensity bearing down on her, the soul-deep connection that she couldn't seem to ignore when they were skin to skin. Their eyes didn't stray from each other, though their hands did plenty of roaming. She didn't know how he'd removed his pants enough to make it possible but he was pulling her closer and suddenly they were joined as intimately as a man and woman could be. Chloe's head fell back, breaking the contest of wills she hadn't even known they were engaging in. Her breath shook in her throat, desperately wanting to scream and speak the sensations that were crawling through her body but even now unwilling to allow the weakness.

His hands gripped her hips tightly enough that she knew he could feel the bones just under the skin, just as she knew she'd have bruises darkening there by tomorrow. Bringing her gaze back to his Chloe began to move, and she watched the effect she had on him spread across his face. The skin drew tight around his cheekbones and a vein in his temple pulsed in time with the movements they perpetuated. Chloe smiled widely, wider than she knew she'd bestowed on him in far too long, and raked her nails down his arms lightly. Not enough to bleed him, but enough to mark him. He wanted her to bear a reminder, and she could only respond in kind.

When she finished, the world fading into a swirl of blinding white light and air that wouldn't catch up with her, she made sure he came with her. If she was going to fall, she'd be damned if she'd fall alone.

Hands down I'm too proud for love
But with eyes shut it's you I'm thinking of
But how we move from A to B
It can't be up to me
Cause you don't know who I was before you
Basically to see a change in me
I'd be losing so I just ignore you, yeah

I guess that I'm a little bit in love with you.

Review, please.