Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a Smallville fic, so I make no promises regarding the quality of it. Basically, I'm working through my writer's block by doing short, pointless one-shots. All that aside, leave me a review anyway and let me know what you thought.
Disclaimer: Smallville isn't mine. None of the characters are mine. I'm making absolutely no money from this.
Maybe
At least he's wearing a shirt this time. That makes things a little easier.
Though not by much.
The dark green tee he's chosen clings to his still-wet body in all the right places, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of what's beneath that fabric.
Color fixation aside, that particular shade of green really does look good on him.
Catching herself, Lois jerks her gaze upward, purposely focusing on his eyes and nothing else.
The change of view doesn't help much either.
"You okay?"
There's a hint of amusement in his voice, and Lois resists a sudden urge to punch him in the face. Actually, she never did repay him for not calling when he came back to town last time. And she had promised that payback would come when he least expected it…
"Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm fine."
That had come out too shrill, too fast. She needed to calm down.
"I could hear you pacing." He's smirking and she's glaring. So what if he'd been in the shower with the door shut? The acoustics in this apartment were funny that way.
Why in the hell had she insisted on taking him back to his apartment?
"Hey pal, I'm not the one who was in danger of spontaneously combusting for most of the night."
Ollie shrugs that off as if nearly dying by poison is par for the course. Then Lois remembers the cause of their breakup and realizes that, in Oliver's line of work, knocking on death's door probably is a fairly regular occurrence. The shiver that works its way down her spine has nothing to do with room temperature.
"Maybe not, but some of the dresses you wore when we were dating had more or less the same effect, so I'm not sure why you're worried now."
Ignoring the comment, she steps closer, resting the back of her hand against his forehead. Her check confirms that the fever has indeed broken. Lois tells herself that she's just making sure, even as she prolongs the contact a second or two longer then is really necessary. He's flirting though and that in and of itself should be enough to prove to her that he's on the way to a full recovery
Reasonably sure that the patient is unlikely to keel over any time soon, Lois finds herself uncharacteristically lost for words.
Lois Lane. In Oliver Queen's apartment. Without Chloe or Clark for backup.
Alone.
With Oliver.
Nope, this isn't awkward at all.
"Lois," he says after too long a silence, "Thank you. For staying."
It's her turn to shrug. "No biggie, you would've done the same for me."
"I don't know," he replies thoughtfully. "I don't think I could've been putting ice packs on your chest without doing a little more exploration."
He's smirking playfully and Lois is-as usual-torn between slugging him and…doing something else. An appropriately witty comeback almost leaps from her tongue before she remembers who he is.
Her ex.
Her charming, handsome, rich ex boyfriend.
The same guy who put his heart on the line to ask for hers back.
The same guy who, throughout their relationship, flirted with danger more often then he did with her.
Oh yeah, Green Arrow. She'd almost forgotten about him.
She tells him she has to go, tries not to see the disappointment in his eyes.
"Lois."
The smile she gives him is overly bright, her demeanor overly perky. 'Sorry Ollie, you know how it is. Places to go, stories to write."
"Sure."
"And don't even think of doing anything even remotely heroic."
The billionaire holds up his hands in surrender. "Just for you Lois, I'll put off saving the world 'til tomorrow."
She freezes.
Earlier, she'd told him that he was supposed to save the world. That she'd let him go so that he could save the world. If he knows about that, them he knows about the other part as well. About her doubts. About how maybe she never should've let him go at all.
Oh crap.
He can't know. He'd been unconscious, barely breathing. There was no way he could've heard her.
His expression gives nothing away. The word choice could've been coincidental.
Maybe.
In the interests of her already fragile emotional state, Lois chooses to believe that it was.
"Do me a favor, Ollie."
"Anything."
"Be more careful next time. I don't want to have to trade in my press pass for a nursing license."
"It's not so much the license I'm interested in as it is the uniform."
"That line ever actually work for you?"
"You'd be surprised."
She shakes her head. Then, without giving herself time to think better of it, Lois hugs him.
"I'm glad you're okay."
She murmurs this into his shoulder, breaking the embrace before he has time to reciprocate. She's in the elevator a second later, determined not to look at him as she goes.
She doesn't want to think about Oliver anymore. Not about how he nearly died, or about her feelings for him. She really doesn't want to think about the confession he may or may not have heard. The obvious solution then, is to turn her mind elsewhere.
Clark.
He brought the antidote that saved Ollie's life.
Which, unfortunately, means that she owes him one.
One. More like one million.
She'll have to find the flannel emporium where he shops and get him a gift card.
Or not. That would be like giving an alcoholic the keys to a bar.
No, she'll just be nicer to him at work, stop foisting off all her lousy assignments on him.
She can do that.
For a few days.
Maybe.
Would it be too small of a thank you if she underlined his typos twice instead of three times?
No, never mind. She can do this. Just like she can resist the urge to rush back upstairs and kiss Oliver senseless.
No more obsessing over Ollie and no more dumping her work on Clark.
She can do that easily.
No problem whatsoever.
Right?
Yeah.
Maybe.