I Don't Mind A Little Trouble, Part 5
Title: I Don't Mind A Little Trouble
Author: FlyingHigh / latetothpartyhp
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama / Adventure
Pairings: Chloe/Oliver, back-ground Lollie
Spoilers: for Luthor
Warnings: For language, since all these characters have potty-mouths when I write them. Also, this is un-beta'd.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I am receiving no money for this story.
Summary: Sequel to Of All The Towns in All the Worlds in All the Parallel Universes, You Had to Walk Into Mine. After Lionel's disappearance, alt-universe Oliver is suspected of his murder. Fortunately someone pays a call to help clear his name.
Author's Note: There's some spoiler-ish speculation based on Masquerade in this one.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7
There was no time though to dwell on her craftiness, or on anything else. The door to the hall-way was swinging open and Chloe was following him from the bedroom.
“Stay back,” he told her and felt his stomach lurch as she darted ahead of him anyway. The door opened fully and she skidded to a stop in front of it as a man in a suit pretty much identical to his stepped in. He reached for the gun in his holster at the same time the man in the entry-way lifted his hand to his side-arm and Chloe's eager, overly-chipper voice called out: “Senator!”
“It's alright,” said a quiet female voice behind the man in the door-way.
“The bedroom's clean,” said Chloe, “and we're nearly finished in here.”
“That's fine,” said the senator, stepping out from behind the man whose hand was still positioned beneath his jacket. “Take all the time you need. You don't mind if I get a little work done in the meantime, do you?” She walked to the seating group and set a lap-top bag on the coffee table.
“Senator,” said the man opposite Oliver.
Mrs. Kent turned to him. “It's fine Carter. When our guest arrives would you please show him up.”
Carter, obviously displeased with this development, gave Oliver a hard look and left. Oliver almost wished he stayed. A man with a gun he could handle. A quizzical-faced Martha Kent he could also handle, but it required keeping his clenching stomach from showing on his face. He must have succeeded, he thought, because she gave him a small smile and offered him her hand. “I don't believe we've met. I'm Martha Kent,” she said. No, she hadn't met him, but had she met his counter-part? Was she having the same reaction to him as he was to her, shocked not by the similarities she saw but by the differences? She had the same eyes and cheekbones and voice, the same height and coloring and posture. It was her expression that transformed her into another woman. For one thing, she was smiling at him. For another, she was relaxed. Her mouth looked softer and more sensitive; her eyes, while focused, lacked the bitterness he remembered.
“Oliver Queen,” he answered and took it. “You're not what I was expecting.”
Her only acknowledgement of that somewhat dubious compliment was another quizzical look. “I take it you came with Chloe.”
“I thought he might come in handy,” Chloe answered.
“I suppose if worse comes to worse Mr. Queen here can tackle him. But will you be able to get back with three of you?”
“I don't see why not. Give credit where it's due, Krypto-tech is always up to the job.”
“So what happens if worse doesn't come to worse?” he asked. “Not that I would mind throwing down with Lionel, but it sounds as if that's not Plan A.”
Mrs. Kent laughed. “It's not really a plan,” she said. “It's more like a ruse. I invite him up here for a quiet drink...”
“And then she slips him a roofie,” Chloe finished. “Speaking of which, do you want something h'ors d'oeurves-y to go with the drinks?”
“That's a good idea. Oh, do they still have those little blini?”
“I can find out. What did you bring?”
The older woman pulled out a bottle of Auchentoshan. “It's discontinued and considered rare.”
“Yeah, he'll enjoy tearing that apart,” Chloe said and picked up the phone. While she talked to the kitchen Oliver overcame his moment of shock and leaned toward Mrs. Kent.
“Is that seriously the plan? You're going to spike his drink? You realize he'll probably be able to taste it?”
“Oh, probably, but Chloe's right. That'll just give him an excuse to offer to send me a better bottle.”
He hesitated a minute. Just as she wasn't the Martha Kent he knew, the man she'd invited to this hotel room was not the Lionel she knew. If the Lionel he knew had ever sent anyone a bottle it was probably poisoned. “Well, I'll be close if you need me.”
She lifted her hand and gave his a gentle squeeze. Her hand was cool and her palm was harder than he would have expected. “I appreciate your willingness to help. I know our problems aren't really your concern.”
“It's my problem too. I'm the prime suspect for Lionel's alleged murder back home. Bringing him back alive means I don't get a government-induced curare cocktail.”
“Then I'm glad we can help each other.” She gave his hand another, almost unconscious squeeze before giving him an abashed little look. “I'm sorry. You're just so much like... Oliver was one of my first donors, but he's only a few years older than my son, and I've always felt a little responsible for him.”
He nodded. After he swallowed and cleared the tightness from his throat he managed to smile. “I'm sure he doesn't appreciate that half as much as he should.” He hoped her son, knowing what he did, managed to appreciate it as much as he should.
“Oh, he tolerates it, but I think that's mostly because I make Chloe do all the dirty work.”
“Real - “ he began, but as if saying her name conjured her, Chloe appeared on the sofa next to Martha. “They're not doing the blinis anymore,” she said. “They're doing fingerlings with caviar instead. I got some of those and some little omelets with crab meat in case he's anti-carb. I ordered some champagne, too. They're sending that up right away.”
“I don't think the potatoes will be a problem. Lionel always considered food fads to be beneath him.”
“Which is why he ordered locally grown organic produce to the mansion all those years.”
“I think that was more Lex's idea,” Martha said as a knock sounded at the door. “That was fast.”
A little too fast, Oliver thought, and stood.
“I got it,” said Chloe.
“But I'm the muscle,” he answered. “That's why I'm here, right?”
“Later, yes, but for now - “
He decided to head off the argument before it began by walking toward the door.
“Oliver,” Martha said.
He turned back toward her as whoever stood on the other side of the door knocked again.
“I think Chloe's worried you might be recognized,” she continued. “It was a bit of a risk coming out here before.”
“Right. And putting Chloe - “ He stopped, realizing in time he would have sounded pretty damn ungrateful. “I guess I'm not doing such a great job tolerating, am I?”
She smiled, shook her head, and shooed him into the bedroom.
Author: FlyingHigh / latetothpartyhp
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama / Adventure
Pairings: Chloe/Oliver, back-ground Lollie
Spoilers: for Luthor
Warnings: For language, since all these characters have potty-mouths when I write them. Also, this is un-beta'd.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and I am receiving no money for this story.
Summary: Sequel to Of All The Towns in All the Worlds in All the Parallel Universes, You Had to Walk Into Mine. After Lionel's disappearance, alt-universe Oliver is suspected of his murder. Fortunately someone pays a call to help clear his name.
Author's Note: There's some spoiler-ish speculation based on Masquerade in this one.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7
There was no time though to dwell on her craftiness, or on anything else. The door to the hall-way was swinging open and Chloe was following him from the bedroom.
“Stay back,” he told her and felt his stomach lurch as she darted ahead of him anyway. The door opened fully and she skidded to a stop in front of it as a man in a suit pretty much identical to his stepped in. He reached for the gun in his holster at the same time the man in the entry-way lifted his hand to his side-arm and Chloe's eager, overly-chipper voice called out: “Senator!”
“It's alright,” said a quiet female voice behind the man in the door-way.
“The bedroom's clean,” said Chloe, “and we're nearly finished in here.”
“That's fine,” said the senator, stepping out from behind the man whose hand was still positioned beneath his jacket. “Take all the time you need. You don't mind if I get a little work done in the meantime, do you?” She walked to the seating group and set a lap-top bag on the coffee table.
“Senator,” said the man opposite Oliver.
Mrs. Kent turned to him. “It's fine Carter. When our guest arrives would you please show him up.”
Carter, obviously displeased with this development, gave Oliver a hard look and left. Oliver almost wished he stayed. A man with a gun he could handle. A quizzical-faced Martha Kent he could also handle, but it required keeping his clenching stomach from showing on his face. He must have succeeded, he thought, because she gave him a small smile and offered him her hand. “I don't believe we've met. I'm Martha Kent,” she said. No, she hadn't met him, but had she met his counter-part? Was she having the same reaction to him as he was to her, shocked not by the similarities she saw but by the differences? She had the same eyes and cheekbones and voice, the same height and coloring and posture. It was her expression that transformed her into another woman. For one thing, she was smiling at him. For another, she was relaxed. Her mouth looked softer and more sensitive; her eyes, while focused, lacked the bitterness he remembered.
“Oliver Queen,” he answered and took it. “You're not what I was expecting.”
Her only acknowledgement of that somewhat dubious compliment was another quizzical look. “I take it you came with Chloe.”
“I thought he might come in handy,” Chloe answered.
“I suppose if worse comes to worse Mr. Queen here can tackle him. But will you be able to get back with three of you?”
“I don't see why not. Give credit where it's due, Krypto-tech is always up to the job.”
“So what happens if worse doesn't come to worse?” he asked. “Not that I would mind throwing down with Lionel, but it sounds as if that's not Plan A.”
Mrs. Kent laughed. “It's not really a plan,” she said. “It's more like a ruse. I invite him up here for a quiet drink...”
“And then she slips him a roofie,” Chloe finished. “Speaking of which, do you want something h'ors d'oeurves-y to go with the drinks?”
“That's a good idea. Oh, do they still have those little blini?”
“I can find out. What did you bring?”
The older woman pulled out a bottle of Auchentoshan. “It's discontinued and considered rare.”
“Yeah, he'll enjoy tearing that apart,” Chloe said and picked up the phone. While she talked to the kitchen Oliver overcame his moment of shock and leaned toward Mrs. Kent.
“Is that seriously the plan? You're going to spike his drink? You realize he'll probably be able to taste it?”
“Oh, probably, but Chloe's right. That'll just give him an excuse to offer to send me a better bottle.”
He hesitated a minute. Just as she wasn't the Martha Kent he knew, the man she'd invited to this hotel room was not the Lionel she knew. If the Lionel he knew had ever sent anyone a bottle it was probably poisoned. “Well, I'll be close if you need me.”
She lifted her hand and gave his a gentle squeeze. Her hand was cool and her palm was harder than he would have expected. “I appreciate your willingness to help. I know our problems aren't really your concern.”
“It's my problem too. I'm the prime suspect for Lionel's alleged murder back home. Bringing him back alive means I don't get a government-induced curare cocktail.”
“Then I'm glad we can help each other.” She gave his hand another, almost unconscious squeeze before giving him an abashed little look. “I'm sorry. You're just so much like... Oliver was one of my first donors, but he's only a few years older than my son, and I've always felt a little responsible for him.”
He nodded. After he swallowed and cleared the tightness from his throat he managed to smile. “I'm sure he doesn't appreciate that half as much as he should.” He hoped her son, knowing what he did, managed to appreciate it as much as he should.
“Oh, he tolerates it, but I think that's mostly because I make Chloe do all the dirty work.”
“Real - “ he began, but as if saying her name conjured her, Chloe appeared on the sofa next to Martha. “They're not doing the blinis anymore,” she said. “They're doing fingerlings with caviar instead. I got some of those and some little omelets with crab meat in case he's anti-carb. I ordered some champagne, too. They're sending that up right away.”
“I don't think the potatoes will be a problem. Lionel always considered food fads to be beneath him.”
“Which is why he ordered locally grown organic produce to the mansion all those years.”
“I think that was more Lex's idea,” Martha said as a knock sounded at the door. “That was fast.”
A little too fast, Oliver thought, and stood.
“I got it,” said Chloe.
“But I'm the muscle,” he answered. “That's why I'm here, right?”
“Later, yes, but for now - “
He decided to head off the argument before it began by walking toward the door.
“Oliver,” Martha said.
He turned back toward her as whoever stood on the other side of the door knocked again.
“I think Chloe's worried you might be recognized,” she continued. “It was a bit of a risk coming out here before.”
“Right. And putting Chloe - “ He stopped, realizing in time he would have sounded pretty damn ungrateful. “I guess I'm not doing such a great job tolerating, am I?”
She smiled, shook her head, and shooed him into the bedroom.