Title: Less Than Normal
Category: Smallville
Genre: Family/Humor/Drama
Ship: Chloe/Oliver
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 9,910
Summary: Connor Queen always knew his parents weren't normal, it just took him a little while to figure out how unnormal they really were.
Less Than Normal
1/1
Connor Queen always knew his parents weren't normal. But it wasn't until he was seventeen that he learned just how un-normal they really were.
Graced with the good looks of his father, his mother's vivid green eyes, and the charm of both of them, Connor wasn't what anybody would call unpopular. But having been born the son of a billionaire and super-sleuth ex-investigative reporter wasn't always easy. If his dad wanted to, he could have a whole cavalry watching his back at any given moment… and Connor wouldn't even know it. And, had Oliver any other wife, he might have. But Chloe Queen was not willing to make her son suffer the suspicions of her paranoid husband. So he went to public school, he had no guard duty, and he was treated just as any other child might be. Sure, there were a few upsides. Money was never an issue, so he never had to worry about not being able to go on class trips or affording the latest and best in clothing or what-not. But then, he had a limit on everything. Just because they had money, didn't mean they had to be frivolous.
He grew up in the Queen Manor, where his grandparents had raised his father until their unexpected death just after Oliver's ninth birthday. The rolling expanse of the grounds was enough to stun most of his friends, and upon getting inside his massive family home most whispered as if they were inside a museum, afraid to touch anything. But as he grew so did his friends and it became obvious that while the Queen's were known for their exorbitant wealth it wasn't what made them. Connor learned young that his parents were champions for the weak; they spent more money on charities and helping the world as a whole than they did on themselves. Ever.
While his mother could easily drive the latest and best of vehicles, she preferred her Ford Escape Hybrid, of which she'd been driving since Connor was in junior soccer. So yes, the resources to live like kings were there, but they didn't. There was never a time in his life when he thought he might be on Teen Cribs or featured in gossip magazines as the next Stavros Niarchos. To him, his life was normal. He had an allowance, a curfew, and when he was out of line he got grounded. Friends he'd grown up with were used to the illustrious Oliver and Chloe Queen as just a couple of normal, uncool parents, while the newer friends tended to still gape. It wasn't the greatest moment when his first date flushed and fawned over the good looks of his dad or when his science partner came over to work on homework and failed miserably at flirting with his mom. But he got used to it and if anything, he learned that while some parts of his life weren't considered normal to some, it was what he knew and he appreciated all of it.
Growing up, he'd looked at his dad like he was his hero and his mom like she was his angel. Where his dad was his own personal superhero, just for being the cool guy who would play airplane and put aside Queen Industries business to practice soccer with him, his mom was the one who soothed his tears over owies and cheered him up when he lost his games. A PTA member, his mom undertook most of the planning for just about every event in his young life – from dances to class trips. Being a former investigative reporter who apparently had no intentions of returning to any newspaper, she'd always been what he assumed was a stay-at-home mom. She raised him while juggling charity events, school fundraisers, and helping her husband out with whatever he'd been up to at the time. Connor had no idea just how chaotic her life really was behind the scenes; he had no understanding of why his father always came to her when there was something "work" related rather than head to a board supervisor. As far as he was concerned, his mom was the smartest woman alive, and could solve any problem put in front of her, and so he never questioned it.
He supposed his mother's keen sense of curiosity and suspicion didn't quite rub off on him, otherwise he might've seen the signs earlier than seventeen…
…
"Hold still…" Chloe muttered.
"It stings," Oliver replied, sighing.
Grinning, she rolled her eyes. "Maybe next time you'll be more careful then."
Rubbing his eyes, a seven year old Connor Queen stared sleepily up at his parents, who were currently sitting in the kitchen with antiseptic and a cloth at their disposal. Bruised knuckles and a cut across his eyebrow told Connor his dad was the one with the latest owie.
"What happened?" he mumbled, blinking tiredly.
Turning toward him abruptly, his parents then exchanged a look.
"Con, baby, what are you doing up?" Chloe asked, crossing the room to kneel in front of him.
Automatically, Connor stepped into her arms and laid his head on her shoulder. "You guys are loud."
Oliver chuckled under his breath. "Dad tripped on his way up the drive. Sorry, buddy, didn't mean to wake you."
Sighing, Connor's eyes fluttered as he looked up at his dad, who looked pretty severely torn up for someone who fell on the short walk from the car to the door. But then, he was only seven, and when he scraped a knee it felt a lot worse than it looked. His dad was like four times his height, so he must've fallen really hard, he supposed. "Momma can kiss it better…"
Grinning, Oliver nodded. "And that's just what she's gonna do. You want me to carry you back up to bed?" he asked, standing up from the stool.
Nodding sleepily, Connor didn't even step back. He felt his mom's kiss against his cheek and then he was being lifted into his dad's arms.
As they left the kitchen toward the stairs, he turned his head on his dad's shoulder to look at him. "Did you cry?" he wondered, staring at the swollen cut above his dad's eyebrow.
"Me?" He grinned, shaking his head. "I was super tough!"
Connor was proud of his dad; if it was him, he would've cried and run straight to his mom. But his dad was really strong and he didn't cry for anything!
As he was laid back down in bed, he hugged his teddy bear close to his chest and rolled onto his stomach.
"Night, buddy," his dad murmured, running his hand over his hair before he left. The door was open just a crack, letting light spill into his room. He wasn't afraid of the dark… exactly. But he didn't like it either.
Faintly, he could hear his parent's voices.
"Fell down the drive, huh?"
"What can I say?" Oliver replied. "I'm a klutz."
"Yeah… You're terribly uncoordinated. I don't know how I put up with you."
"Not so great on my feet, but I'm great off them…"
With a laugh, their voices faded, and while half-asleep even Connor knew they were making kissy faces again. Weird adults, they were always doing that. Didn't daddy know that when mommy kissed him better she had to kiss his owie not his mouth!
…
Connor couldn't honestly remember ever seeing his father show any sign of being anything but balanced. In fact, he was more astute than most; able to get round anything in his way with hardly a glance. Even when Connor had left toys on the stairs as a child, his dad had been able to hop over them or side-step them as if he expected them there. And the only time he'd tripped, to his son's knowledge, had been the time his wife had unexpectedly grabbed his butt when she walked past him, shocking him into a stumble before he gave her a playful glare and returned to his usual debonair self.
But after that first time when he'd been a little boy and believed the story of Oliver tripping on the way up the drive, he'd heard a million more tales of how his dad had acquired his latest injury. It was beginning to look like his dad had one seriously dangerous job working as a CEO of his family business, and as a little boy Connor wasn't sure he ever wanted to be a businessman.
By the time he was ten, however, his dad's injuries became few and far between, or wherever they were they couldn't be seen. His dad had apparently learned how to walk properly and avoid trouble outside of the house and hardly ever returned home with a cut, scrape or torn up appendage. And so Connor wrote it off, didn't give it another thought, and returned to life as usual in his world of innocence and childhood fun.
Until he was twelve and the injuries his father had once been all too accustomed to were transferred on to his mom…
…
He hated hospitals. Loathed them with his entire being. Growing up, Connor's life had been full of color and fun and love; but hospitals were all white and too clean and the people were always so busy and worried and far too many were crying. Sitting in a stiff chair, his hand clenched around the metal arms, he watched as his dad paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair every once in a while.
He didn't know what happened. One minute he was in school, finishing up a math quiz that his seventh grade teacher had sprung on them, and the next the principal had come and got him, telling him his uncle was there and he needed to go with him. Uncle Bart had been anxious, his feet moving to and fro and his hands going in and out of his pockets as he tried to calm down.
"What's going on?" he asked, staring at his usually excited and easy-going uncle with concern. He looked around, expecting his parents to jump out from around a corner, but they were nowhere to be seen. Something like dread settled in his stomach and for a second he thought history had repeated itself and he would have to go through what his dad did. His chest ached with the very possibility; he couldn't lose his parents. He just couldn't.
"Uncle Bart? Where's my mom and dad?"
"They're at the hospital," he replied, his voice cracking at the end. "Your dad didn't want to leave… He wanted to be there in case she needed him… He sent me to come pick you up, so… You know, we gotta go, okay?" The agony on his face scared Connor.
"Mom," he murmured, his voice going out. "What happened?"
He couldn't imagine what could hurt his mom. She was untouchable, always on the move. If it were up to her, she probably wouldn't sleep due to how much she had to do every day. But Oliver never let her get too involved; dragging her off to bed when it was obvious she needed to rest. Even when she got sick she tried to keep working, but then his dad would take time off from work, force her to rest and he'd make his patented chicken noodle soup… via a can opener and the great makers of Campbell's. With a red, stuffy nose, she'd sleep on the couch and while irritated, wouldn't even answer the phone according to her husband's rules. She was to rest, cooperate and do nothing but think of herself until she was better. It was those times that Connor would come home to find them cuddled on the couch, his mom fast asleep in his dad's embrace while Oliver stroked her hair and rubbed her back soothingly. She'd smell like Vicks and cough syrup but his dad didn't seem to mind. Only then would she actually stop and never had she been forced to go to the hospital.
"Th-There was an accident," Bart muttered, looking back and forth from him to the principal. "We really gotta go, I'll explain on the drive, okay?"
Nodding absently, his imagination working overtime to fill in the blanks, Connor followed him out to the car and stared worriedly out the window as they drove toward Star City General.
Chaos surrounded him; nurses and patients and people waiting on loved ones were all talking over each other and moving to and fro. And there, in the mess, was Oliver Queen, frantically pacing as he impatiently waited for word on his wife. With a hand on Connor's shoulder, Bart walked him through the throng of people until they were mere feet from his father.
This was not the man he'd grown up.
Oliver Queen had always been strong, calm, and never let anything really worry him. He had an answer to every problem, and if he didn't his wife did. There was no such thing as giving up or giving in and it was always his motto to save the other before one's self. But here was a man who was broken and scared. His face was stricken, his hands shaking, and his whole body reverberated fear and worry.
"Dad?" he squeaked, his concern doubling as he saw the state of his father.
Stopping, Oliver looked over. His jaw tightened and he seemed to swallow back every unfiltered remnant of true worry. Walking toward his son, he put on his brave face and squeezed his shoulder. "She's gonna be fine…" He said it so clearly, so strongly, that Connor almost believed him. In fact, he would have had he not just seen how wrecked his dad really was.
"I don't understand… What happened?"
Oliver's eyes briefly flicked to Bart but then he was staring down at his son seriously. "Just an accident, wrong place wrong time… But the doctor's are fixing her up and she'll be good as new, all right?"
That wasn't enough; he wanted the whole of it. But he didn't ask, because his parents had never lied to him and if they weren't saying something then it must be for the best. So he took a seat and he waited and he prayed that all of this was one seriously bad nightmare.
It felt like days, it might have only been minutes, but his dad never stopped moving. Arms crossed over his chest, his eyes never stopped moving back and forth, as if he was searching for a way to make it all better. And then, finally, a doctor stepped out. There was blood spattered on his scrubs and Connor had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat. He looked up at his dad now, terrified. An arm wrapped around his shoulder, stabilizing, comforting, and the hero-worship he'd grown up on returned. Whatever happened, his dad would make it better.
"There was some internal damage and her heart gave out—"
Oliver Queen physically shook and for a moment Connor feared his dad's knees would give out beneath him.
"But we were able to bring her back and stabilize her. She's not out of the woods but we have every reason to believe she'll come out of this okay." He smiled briefly. "She's resting now and she might be a little out of it, but you can go back and see her."
Everything was drowned out then. He didn't hear them talking or know what was happening, but his feet followed as his dad propelled them toward the room his mother was resting in.
It was too white; that was his very first thought. There was no color except for what little could be seen outside the room window. Her room at home was done in every shade of green; from the walls to the linens. Even her clothes had an abundance of green in it, and when they didn't she was still always wearing lively colors.
Her complexion matched the room. Gone was the bright and beautiful woman he'd always known as mom; now she looked small and weak and nothing at all like what he knew her as. This was supposed to be the woman whose stubborn nature was only matched by her husband; who could take on every mother on the PTA with one look and get her way in every matter. This was the woman who made his lunch every morning while simultaneously balancing whatever charity cause she was currently arguing over with someone on the phone. She somehow juggled being a mom, a wife, coordinator of PTA, Queen Charities, and Star City development committee. And now she looked like death had coming knocking and took her feet out from under her.
His dad had crossed the room in milliseconds and was standing at her side, her hand in his and the first glint of hope finally breaching his fear.
"Hey," she murmured softly, her eyes fluttering open and then closed.
"How you feeling, Sidekick?" he replied just as quiet.
She half-grinned. "Like I've been run over, shot, and beaten with a bat… but otherwise a little thirsty…"
With a sad chuckle, he reached behind to grab the cup of ice chips some nurse must've left behind. Carefully, he poured a few into her mouth and then fingered a few to melt against her dry lips. With a smile, she looked up at him adoringly. "Thank you."
Silent, he only nodded.
Eyes flicking to the right, she spotted him. "Connor, sweetie… Come here."
He didn't want to. His feet were planted to the floor and for a second he actually considered bolting. Never had he imagined being here, seeing her like this. It scared him.
With a sigh, she stared at him knowingly. "Life isn't made up on everything good… Sometimes bad things happen to good people… But I promise you, I will be okay."
Despite looking frail, her voice was just as strong and stubborn as ever, and that broke his every resistance. He ran toward her, stopping just short of throwing himself into her arms.
Reaching for him, wires getting in the way, she managed to wrap her arm around his back, her fingers carding through his hair. "Shh… I'm fine…" He didn't realize he was crying until she tugged him down and his face was buried against her shoulder.
Following in his steps, Oliver pressed his face in her hair and with her boys in her arms, Chloe comforted them and melted their every concern.
That was the day he realized his parents weren't invincible and that as good as he had it, it could all be taken away in a split second.
He'd never forget that lesson.
…
With his mother returned home a week later, she was still forced to stay off her feet as much as possible, and his dad had taken time off from Queen Industries to make sure she followed doctor's orders. But within a couple months, everything had returned to normal. Connor never found out what had really taken place and instead comforted himself with the fact that his mom was okay, and his parents were just as strong and loving as ever.
But it had brought about the knowledge that even his mom, who he'd once thought could take on anything, wasn't infallible. She could die or get hurt just like anybody else. And that concern sharpened his senses, made him acknowledge things he wouldn't have noticed before. Like how Oliver brought so much of his work to Chloe and a lot of it didn't seem to be Queen Industries related, or not that Connor could tell anyway. He found himself watching them, wondering what it was they did when he wasn't looking. Whatever it was, he was sure it was a good thing, but he had to wonder.
And then there were things like how his dad was always so on-guard, as if he expected the very worst, no matter the situation. Why would a man who grew up as he did, with the best of the best, have to worry so much?
If Connor couldn't find his dad with his mom or in his office, there was only one other place he would be. The training room. Whether he was lifting weights, swimming laps, or shooting arrows at his personal archery, Oliver Queen spent a good portion of his time keeping himself in shape. From when he was just a little boy, Connor could remember his dad was often working out. He'd even incorporated his family into it; making his son laugh when he did push-ups with Connor sitting on his back, or when he'd shoot apples from the top of Chloe's head. Never once had she been scared, she'd even smile as he aimed. And Connor would giggle and clap his hands, thinking it was all so normal. While his parents did yoga and meditated, he would try and mimic them as any fascinated child might.
As he grew older, he wasn't oblivious to the way women of all ages looked on at Oliver Queen as if he were sculpted by the Gods. Even his mother wasn't oblivious, even if she did tease him for his vanity. But there were times, entirely too often for their son's taste, that he'd find them sprawled on the training mats, making out like teenagers. Much as his mom would bug him about his 'muscle-man' physique, she didn't complain when she was running her hands all over him. And many a girl friend of Connor Queen had looked on after his father like he was the latest and greatest in celebrity hotties.
But it came to Connor's attention, later in life and well into thirteen, that his dad wasn't working out because he was self-centered or worried about his appearance. More-so it appeared that he was doing it as a precaution. He would never be a victim and so he took every opportunity to keep himself from being one. Having been trained in martial arts before Connor was even a peanut on the sonogram and one of the best archers alive, Oliver Queen was no slouch in keeping himself and others safe. It came to Connor's attention that his dad wasn't just preparing for the off chance something happened, but that he expected something to come at them. And eventually… it did.
…
From when was just a little boy, Connor knew which side of the bed was his mom's and which was his dad's. More because when there were lightning storms or he'd had a bad dream, he knew to wake up his mom and she'd tuck him in between the two of them to go back to sleep. He was four when he realized waking his dad up abruptly was a bad idea.
Carrying his teddy bear, fondly named Archie, his tiny feet padded across the floor almost silently. The racket of lightening outside his bedroom had woken him up and the shadows of trees along his walls had scared him. So with a sniffle and his heart pounding, he hurried toward his parent's bedroom, quietly opening the door and rushing to the bed. His dad was on the right, always, his back facing the door. Connor's hand was reaching out toward the shrouded bare back of his dad, shaking in fear as another bolt of lightening ripped across the sky. But before he could even touch him, Oliver had turned over, sat up, and while panting heavily, he held a dagger poised in his hand for attack.
Already frightened, Connor gave a cry of terror and stumbled back before falling back on his bottom and staring up at his disoriented dad.
Just as quickly, arms surrounded Oliver's torso and the soothing voice of his wife was murmuring against his neck.
"It's just Connor, Ollie, it's okay…"
Chest heaving, Oliver slowly calmed down, shaking his head getting his bearings.
Looking down at her son, Chloe smiled. "Com'ere, Con… You just scared daddy, that's all…"
Sniffling, Connor climbed to his feet. "Was it the thunder, daddy?" he asked, shuffling closer. "Did it scare you too?"
Rubbing a hand over his wife, Oliver looked down at his son sorrowfully. "Yeah…" Reaching for him, dagger now gone from sight, Oliver dragged Connor into his lap. "I'm sorry, buddy…" he said against his son's sandy hair, hugging him tight.
"I's okay," Connor reassured, patting his shoulder. "Thunder scares me too."
With that, and all the innocence of a child, he crawled in between them and dragged the blanket up to his chin.
Still looking upset, Oliver laid down beside him, his arm reaching across to wrap his family up tight in his embrace. Already over it, Connor fell asleep to his mom's fingers stroking his hair and his dad's rhythmic breathing.
But it was a lesson learned and in all the years that followed, Connor would always circle the bed to wake his mom first, knowing that his dad would react automatically. His first instinct was to attack, to keep whoever it was in his room from getting to his wife, and while Connor was just a little boy and had no idea that was why, he did know that his mom didn't have a dagger under her pillow. She had a gun in the bedside table, and that was much harder to get to when her little boy was trying to crawl into bed because he was scared.
…
As he grew up, he'd accepted that protective nature ingrained in his father, and when he learned of how Oliver had lost his parents he thought it might've just been his own necessity to always keep his family safe from harm. But when he started adding things together, Connor began to wonder. Other kid's dads didn't get hurt as much as his did, and their mom's didn't wear glocks on their hips, hidden beneath blazers. They didn't do background checks on everybody they or their son met and they didn't hack government systems just for the fun of it, like his mom.
At twelve and after suffering the near loss of his mom, Connor came to a conclusion he thought best fit the scenario.
It helped too that his best friend Kyle agreed with the assessment.
Obviously, given their great wealth, his parents were careful for fear of someone trying to take advantage. Be it a hostage situation or a robbery; it just made sense.
And so, Connor felt the case was closed. His dad had grown up wealthy and so knew that there were people out there that would do anything for money, and his mom was no idiot. It was obvious she wanted to be careful and prepared for any outcome. The glock was a safety measure and the constitution gave them the right to bare arms. His mom might've been taking that to a rather high level, but not everybody was the wife of a billionaire with a safety complex.
He put the matter to rest and went back to life as usual.
Suspicions no longer overwhelming him, he returned to thinking his parents, while obviously overly-protective, were still as normal as could be expected. Even if some of his friends didn't agree…
…
"You're parents are totally weird," Eddie muttered, shaking his head.
Used to that opinion, Connor shrugged. "Why now?"
Eddie looked at him like he was an oblivious idiot. "They like… love each other…" He grimaced. "Still!"
Now he was confused. "Okay… Why is that weird?"
With a sigh, Eddie leaned forward as if he was going to have to explain something that should be easily understood. "Look, we're like fifteen… Let's assume they were together for like, I dunno, three years before you…" He stared at him, waiting to see if he was catching on.
Blinking, still feeling left out of the loop, Connor nodded. "Okay…"
"That's eighteen years, man… That's not normal!" Shaking his head, he frowned. "My parents have been together, like, twenty-three years and I'm telling you, they've been at each other's throats since I was six… But yours…" Tipping his head, he stared into the kitchen at Mr. and Mrs. Queen who were currently whispering to each other. Arms wrapped around his wife's waist, Oliver grinningly said something against her ear before kissing down her neck. With a laugh, Chloe leaned back into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. "They're, like, totally into each other still."
Connor couldn't really disagree. Sure, they had their arguments, and yeah, a few times his dad had spent the night on the couch, but in the end, his parents loved each other. And it wasn't all physical, either. They still held hands and cuddled on the couch together and kissed entirely too much in his opinion, but they also spent hours talking and spending time with each other just because. They had an on-going date-night every Sunday and Thursday's were family movie night, which meant Connor couldn't get out of it unless he had a monstrous load of homework, and even then they only offered to help him get through it as quickly as possible so they could all relax together.
Not even the gossip magazines could say their marriage was on the rocks. Their nineteenth anniversary had passed a few months before and everybody had only good things to say. There were no scandals or 'other women' and much to a lot of people's surprise, Oliver Queen could be faithful, so long as it was with the right woman. And that was just what Chloe had been; proving to any naysayers that she was Oliver Queen's one and had been long before Connor had even been born.
"So why's that weird?" he asked, brow furrowed.
It might gross him out, but he honestly liked that his parents cared so much about each other. He never wanted to be like Kyle, with a divorced mom and dad, having to split his time between them and put up with their constant bickering. He liked that when he came home, it was to his mom and dad, who while busy and bogged down with more than what seemed doable, always had time for him.
"Dude…" Eddie rolled his eyes. "Nobody's parents are like that. This is like the world of divorce and cheating…" Eyes narrowed, he stared speculatively at Connor's parents as his mom broke off a piece of cookie and popped it in Oliver's mouth for him. "They're like an enigma or something."
Connor shook his head. "Whatever… If that's what's weird about them I can deal with it."
His buddy only shrugged before losing interest in the subject and challenging Connor to a game of Xbox4000.
…
Over the years, Connor had shrugged off what others thought was unusual. As far as he could tell, his parents were about as normal as they would ever get. His mom was a bit of a workaholic and while his dad suffered the same, he would put his work aside if only to make his wife do the same. Throughout birthday parties, holidays and vacations, Connor had grown up in a household that never waned in its love or attention. And he knew he had it good. He'd grown up with a mom whose first priority, outside of her own family, was to help others. So he'd lent his hand more than once to help put together charity events, even donning the stuffy tuxedo and making the rounds to please guests.
If it meant helping one person, one family, or an entire village, he would do what had to be done.
He'd been exposed to the worst of treatment, if only through pictures and stories and the knowledge he'd gained from his parent's insight. So he didn't waiver in his support and his admiration for his parents only grew as he saw what they'd accomplished. There were people out there better off because of the Queen Charity; those who grew up in places that couldn't or wouldn't help.
At sixteen, Connor was used to the overindulgent parties and the ties that choked his independence. He smiled for those who expected it of him and usually went in search of his parents, who often let him leave early and took over the duties of charming the crowd and gaining the support needed. It was at one of these parties that his suspicions were raised once more…
…
Everything was going off without a hitch. Champagne was in great abundance, laughter both real and fake could be heard from various circles, and money was pouring in for the underfinanced relief fund for a community overseas. Moving from group to group were Oliver and Chloe Queen, hands bound together, fingers woven, and smiles in place. It was too early to leave, Connor knew that, but it didn't stop him from tugging at his bow tie and eyeing the exits.
He considered going out on the balcony for a minute of peace, but he could see a few people crowding it to get a view of the gardens, so he wrote off the idea.
Somebody was calling his name, he was sure it was nobody he wanted to see. Deciding he'd rather walk the room with his parents than have any sort of private chat, he made his way over to them.
Chloe brightened as she set eyes on her son. "Hey Con… You try the shrimp?" she asked with a wink.
Half-smiling, he stopped next to her and tipped his head to the side. After food poisoning a few years earlier, he never went near shrimp again, and would often stay away from the tables all-together if he spotted the pink seafood. Noticing his habitual u-turn every time he spotted shrimp, she liked to tease him at benefits. "Not yet… Kind of hoping to avoid projectile vomiting on the guests," he replied.
She laughed, not the least bit embarrassed by his candor, even as the people they were talking to exchanged a surprised look.
As Oliver's hand cradled Chloe's neck, fingers playing with tendrils of her hair, he passed a look at his son, silently telling him to try and behave.
"Connor, have you met the Scadbergs?" he asked, lifting a brow at his son.
Knowing his cue, Connor held a hand out. "Nice to meet you both. I hope you've been enjoying your evening."
Forgetting his faux pas, they smiled back and each shook his hand. "Don't you look handsome," Mrs. Scadberg said in a voice that made him sound like a six year old dressed in his dad's oversized clothes.
"Thank you," he replied regardless.
His mother's laughing green eyes told him she knew exactly what he was thinking.
"If you'll excuse us, I was hoping to introduce Connor to Marrienne Trembley's son," Chloe told them, shaking each of their hands in goodbye before the family of three was on their way.
"I've already met Joey Trembley," Connor said to her. "Something totally crawled up his—"
"Connor," Oliver said in warning, even as he grinned.
"I'm just saying…" His eyes widened for emphasis.
"I know… But the Scadbergs are pretentious and not spending a dime… They only came for the food." Glancing at her husband, Chloe frowned. "They're rolling in it, but they can't spare some for others?"
"I told you there was no point in adding them to the list," he reminded, his thumb rubbing tender circles behind her ear.
"And I told you I'm going to keep inviting them until I've methodically broken them down and they share the wealth," she replied stubbornly.
Connor grinned.
"Having fun yet?" his dad asked.
"Tons," he replied sarcastically. "So far I've talked to forty people I don't know but who all seem to know me… I think a widower pinched my butt and there are a group of thirteen year olds that giggle every time I walk by."
His parents laughed at his poor disposition.
"It's not funny… My girlfriend's extremely jealous."
His mom cocked a brow. "Is that the story you're going with?"
He smirked. "If it keeps them at bay… totally."
Oliver quickly spotted that gaggle of giggling girls. "They're cute… for tweens…"
Rolling his eyes, Connor looked at his mom. "Have you ever giggled?"
Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "Not over a boy… At least not when I haven't been under the influence of kryptonite," she muttered.
"See!" Connor stared at his dad. "Women of substance don't giggle, dad. You should know that."
Laughing, Oliver grinned. "My apologies… I had no idea my sixteen year old son was looking for a woman of substance."
"He damn well better be," Chloe snorted. "Even if he isn't allowed to date until forty."
Rolling his eyes, Connor shook his head. "Forty? Seriously?"
Narrowing her eyes, she joked, "You wanna make it fifty?"
He held his hands up in surrender.
Before anything more could be said, the lights went out.
"Oliver…" Chloe said, tone almost warning.
"Not me, Sidekick."
Confused, Connor was about ask what a power outage would have to do with either of them, but that thought completely fled him when the lights came back on and a dozen or so gunmen dressed in black were aiming at the guests.
Immediately, he looked to his parents, who unlike the rest of the guests weren't the least bit scared.
Instead, Oliver seemed to be counting the armed men while Chloe was looking behind them, eyeing windows and doors.
And then he was shoved behind them, as if they were to be his human shield.
"You're packing?" Oliver asked, hand sliding down her back to her far hip.
"Right thigh," she replied as if she were discussing the weather. "How many?"
"Eight on the floor, two in the windows."
Connor's gaze raised and spotted the two gunmen on opposite sides of the room, kneeling in windows with their guns at the ready.
"Has the alert been issued?" she asked.
"As soon as the lights went out. ETA?"
"Twelve minutes, give or take."
What the hell were they talking about?
He supposed he would know in twelve minutes.
A man stepped out from the crowd – Albert Ronnstein, if Connor was right.
"Look, whatever you're after we'll give it you…" he proposed, holding his hands up. "We've got jewelry… Money…"
Before he could continue a bullet entered his chest and he was lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor.
Oliver's hand flexed against his wife's hip.
Everybody else jumped and gasped, some of the women even crying out in shock and fear.
And then one of the masked men stepped back. "We're not here to negotiate. Don't underestimate us." Pausing for effect, he then added, "When I call your name, you'll join me here… Bruce Wayne, Robert Karakas, Joseph Buffett, Claudette Bettencourt and Oliver Queen."
"Five richest people in the room," Oliver murmured knowingly.
And then he turned, hugged his wife and with a quick move of his hand sliding beneath the slit of her dress, pocketed her favorite glock. With a wink to his son, he turned and walked through the crowd with all the arrogance he was known for.
"Wayne," he said, nodding toward old friend Bruce.
"Queen," the man returned stiffly.
Moving to stand at his mom's side, immediately assuming the protector role, Connor glanced briefly at her. "Mom?"
She smiled at him. "Don't worry, honey."
He didn't know how she wasn't worrying.
It all seemed to happen in a split-second. One minute five of the wealthiest people alive were being surrounded by armed men and the next there was a blur rushing past, unarming people and knocking them off their feet. Before a shot could even be made, the men above were being wrangled out of the windows, arms wrapping around their necks and tearing them out of their positions. Sirens could be heard approaching, the cavalry on its way.
The man who'd called everyone forward whirled on the group of five, obviously deciding he'd take one hostage and at least get away. But then Oliver had the glock raised and it only took one bullet to the shoulder to take down his opponent. With everything going on, Connor wasn't sure anybody had seen what his dad had just done. People were running in every direction, just trying to find refuge, but from his vantage point Connor could see that the problem had already been solved. Whoever it was that snuck up on the men at the windows had removed them, and the blur had taken out the others. Oliver and Bruce were subduing the last of the attackers, kicking his gun away and picking him up off the floor.
And all the while, Connor stood next to his mom, his arm out as if to shield her somehow, while she simply smiled, not even effected.
He looked at her, completely bewildered.
Reaching over, she cupped his face. "Like I said… you don't have to worry."
And with that, she took his hand and crossed through the crowd to stand at Oliver's side.
After that it was all police hauling away the perpetrators and his parents commiserating over the mess and unexpected end to the night.
"Well… I'm hungry… Who wants Chinese?" his dad asked.
Chloe hooked her arms with both her husband and her son. "I'm definitely up for that."
Not sure what the hell happened, Connor could only nod.
"Mings?" he asked.
They grinned. As if they'd go anywhere else.
…
Over the next year, he tried to figure it out to no avail. Whenever he brought it up, his parents cleverly distracted him until his curiosity was abated. At least for a little while.
When they weren't home, he went searching for clues. But he didn't find any; not really. His parents were meticulous and careful and if they were doing anything that was less than normal, it wasn't anywhere he could find. Of course, that would be expected. He was just a sixteen year old kid with no ties to espionage or whatever it was they were entangled in. And so he went not to the source, but just to the right of it.
His Uncle Bart.
…
Sitting in the kitchen with a plate of four sandwiches, all expertly made by his favorite nephew, Bart Allen was in food heaven. So engrossed in his meal, he hardly questioned why it was Connor had called him over for an emergency meeting. As fast as he was, his brain sometimes took a slower route; especially when food was involved. He was mid-bite when he asked suddenly, "Oh man, you didn't knock up a mamacita, did you?"
He looked horrified, but that didn't stop Connor from laughing at him.
"What? No!" He paused and then smirked. "I took care of that last year."
Bart blinked. "Huh?" he asked meekly.
With a snort, Connor shook his head. "You're too easy, Uncle Bart."
With a sigh of relief, Bart shook his head. "Don't scare me like that!"
Chuckling, Connor leaned forward, resting his arms on the island table before him. "It's nothing like that… I just thought, you know, since everything at the benefit with my parents and stuff…" He eyed Bart suspiciously. "Look, something is going on and I need to know what it is."
"Dude, you gotta be more specific. You know your parents, there's always something going on," he hedged, looking anywhere but at his nephew.
"Come on… I'm not stupid. They didn't even flinch when ten guys in black and holding AK-47's showed up at a charity event… That's not normal."
Bart glared. "Who says what's normal anyway?"
Connor blinked. "I'm not a kid…"
Pursing his lips, he sighed. "Yeah, you are. You're sixteen, Connor."
"So?"
"So?" He laughed humorlessly. "You're asking questions you're not ready to know the answer to, all right?"
"No…" Annoyed, he shook his head. "Who gets to tell me when I'm ready?" He threw his hands up. "Something isn't right and I don't know if my parents are like super spies or what, but I deserve to know!"
Bart scoffed. "They're super something, but it ain't spies. Trust me, kid." He stared at him seriously. "You'll know when you know." Picking up his plate, he stood from his seat. "Tell your mom I'll bring her plate back later." And with that, he turned and left the room.
Sometimes, he swore his uncle had super speed. He was always there one minute and gone the next.
Regardless, Connor still didn't know what was up with his parents, but he was going to find out.
…
It wasn't until he was seventeen that the pieces fell into place.
He'd put the mystery of his parents on the backburner for awhile when he found himself in a relationship. Something about winning over a girl was more attractive than the elusive wonder about his parent's side-business.
Her name was Aubrey, but everybody just called her Bree. She was a year younger and she had a laugh that always made his gut clench and his heart hammer. Beautiful and smart, she had a way of meeting him head-on in every conversation. Witty and sarcastic, she kept him on his toes. For awhile, his life revolved around Bree and he forgot all about the questions he'd once had concerning his parents. All he wanted was to spend his time with this girl who made him feel like he was on top of the world. He'd had girlfriends before; none of them had really lasted long. Sometimes he wondered if girls were only interested in the money or the name or even the popularity that came with being his girl. He didn't want to be arrogant about it, but he was captain of the soccer team and friends with most people. He ran with the crowd that he guessed a lot of people would want to be a part of. It had come easy for him, he supposed, it's just who he grew up with all along.
Bree wasn't like that though. She didn't seem to care if he had money or who his friends were and she didn't fawn over his dad like he was anything more than Mr. Queen.
So he got sidetracked and instead of paying attention to what his parents were doing or why they didn't seem to fear the darkness of others, he spent his time with Bree.
Until one night he and Bree were leaving the theatre after watching some corny monster/zombie movie, and while they walked hand-in-hand toward his car, of which he'd spent the last four years saving up for, her purse got snatched. It was just a split-second and then he was chasing down some guy in torn jeans and a dark hoodie, not even caring that he was running into the very dark and not entirely friendly grounds of Star City park. He was gaining on the guy when out of nowhere he stopped. Turning, edgy and paranoid, the guy took out a knife and started slashing at the air. "Get back!"
Halting, Connor held his hands up. "Just gimme the purse."
The guy laughed. "I gotta eat, kid. You ain't getting it back."
With a sigh, Connor shook his head. "Then take the money and leave the rest…" He could always replace Bree's cash with some of his own, it wasn't a big loss.
But then, the guy paused, eyes narrowing. "Hey, I know you."
A chill ran down his spine. If this guy said the name Queen, he was in serious trouble.
"Little late to be in the park, don't you think?" a new voice called out.
Suddenly, Connor turned, and found himself surrounded.
Cursing in his head, he suddenly remembered his mother telling him that he should never cut through the park, for anything. But in his haste to get Bree's purse back, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. And the guys around him looked like spiders reeling in their latest prey. Caught in their web, he really didn't know what to do. He wasn't completely defenseless; growing up with the parents he had he'd learned to kick ass when he needed to. But he was only one guy and there were six surrounding him, all with weapons.
Shit.
"Hey… Do you recognize this kid?" the first guy asked, still staring at him wonderingly. "Looks familiar."
"That's the Queen kid," somebody else replied, sounding giddy now. "He's worth billions…"
The dark laughter that followed should've scared him, but in the end it only served to piss him off.
And then somebody was coming at him, obviously thinking they could just take him down and return him for some kind of reward.
As soon as a hand touched his shoulder, he attacked. Grabbing the man's wrist, he twisted it hard before whirling around, slamming his forehead down hard on the man's nose and kneeing him in the gun. As he went down, another attacked. Connor side-stepped the knife aimed for his gut and hammered his elbow down on the man's arm, making him drop his weapon before he twisted the arm around his back until the guy cried out in pain. Kicking him out of the way, satisfied as he hit the ground, he turned to take on the other four, who all now realized it was better to rush as a group instead.
Before they could get to him, however, an arrow whizzed past and took one of them right off their feet, flying backwards until he was sprawled out and groaning on the ground.
"What the—"
A man dressed in green leather and carrying a bow and arrow dropped down at Connor's side. "Six against one… Looks like the odds are a little tipped to one's favor."
The three remaining men looked at each other warily before turning and running.
The hero in the weird leather get-up smirked. "Wimps." Turning, he stared at Connor darkly. "Care to explain what you're doing in the park this late at night?"
Instead of replying, Connor circled him to snatch up the purse left on the ground. "Doing my civil duty," he muttered. "You?"
"Something along the same lines," he replied wryly.
Connor snorted. "Green Arrow, right?"
"Guilty."
Crossing his arms, Connor looked him up and down. "So you're the good guy?"
Arrow glanced at the men on the ground, now trying to crawl away. "According to some."
Pursing his lips, Connor showed his dislike for half-answers. "And you just happened to be in the park?"
"I saw you chasing down the purse-snatcher… Thought I'd make sure you had it handled."
Pride bruised, he replied, "Yeah, well, I did."
Green Arrow grinned. "Never hurts to have back-up."
Connor cocked a brow and then purposely looked around. "So where's yours?"
With a light chuckle, Arrow lifted his hand and touched his ear. "Arrow to Tower, package is in good hands."
Blinking, he shook his head. "Did you just call me a package?"
Apparently not listening to him, Arrow had his head cocked to the side as he listened to whatever was being said in his ear. "Right… ETA ten minutes." Finally turning back to him, he said, "You're gonna have to come with me."
"What?" he scoffed. "Look, buddy, I appreciate the help, but my girlfriend is currently waiting in some empty parking lot hoping I didn't just get shanked."
"So we'll stop there first," Arrow said simply.
"If this is some weird ransom trap, you should know that my parents are smarter than the average crook," he warned, glaring.
"Not a ransom ploy, Scout's honor." With a grin, he tucked his bow behind his shoulder. "So let's go reassure Bree and then we can go."
Connor stepped back away from him, suspicious. "How'd you know her name?"
Green Arrow sighed, shoulders slumping.
Connor looked around him, noticing that they were now seemingly alone in the park. "Look, whatever you were planning, forget it." And with that, he took off, running out of the park so quickly he was sure nobody could catch up. Five minutes later, out of breath and paranoid, he was hugging his worried girlfriend and wondering just why the hell Green Arrow, a supposed good guy, would know anything about him.
Distracted, he dropped Bree off at home, half-heartedly kissing her goodnight before he headed back to his house. His mind was running off every scenario under the sun and he was still confused as hell. Parking his car next to his mom's, he locked it up and pocketed the keys before walking inside, where he got the third shock of his night.
Sitting on his couch, drinking coffee and chatting with his mom as if everything was normal, was Green Arrow.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed, slamming the door and walking into the living room.
Hopping up from her seat, Chloe reached out to soothe him. "Sweetie, it's okay… I know him."
"Yeah, well, you weren't the one with Creepy Leather Dude in a dark park a half hour ago!"
"Okay, creepy isn't the word I'd use," Arrow replied.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Will you sit down? Please? We can explain."
"We?" he asked, warily taking a seat across from them.
And with no further ado, Green Arrow took off his glasses, pushed back his hood, and flicked off his voice distorter, revealing that he was none other than Oliver Queen.
Wide-eyed, Connor shook his head. "No. Freaking. Way."
"Yes way," his dad replied, smirking.
Turning to his mom, his mouth gaped unintelligibly. "So… all this time… He was… and you were…"
Clasping her hands together, Chloe nodded. "Green Arrow and Watchtower… Leaders of the Justice League…"
Information overload had Connor falling back in his seat with a bewildered expression. "What?"
Sitting forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, Oliver half-smiled. "I was mid-twenties and felt like I could do a lot more for the world then what I was…" With a shrug, he glanced at Chloe. "She was a reporter who could hack better than anybody else alive… She joined ranks when I was just starting out with my team…"
Chloe reached across, covering his hands with hers. "I run communications, occasionally go in on jobs, but mostly I'm the eyes and ears of the League. I keep everybody alive and out of harms way while they take down the bad guys from the inside…" She smiled gently. "We probably should have told you, but… We wanted you to grow up as normal as possible… Knowing your parents are superheroes on their off time puts a bit of a kink in that."
Rubbing his temples, Connor shook his head. "So when you got hurt, when I was twelve…"
Oliver and Chloe exchanged a look.
"We needed her to come in with us… We couldn't get through the firewall and she was the only one who could… On the way out, we were attacked, she got hurt…" His face morphed suddenly, as if the moment was happening all over again, the agony so obvious. "It was the last time she was allowed on a mission."
"Allowed," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I chose to stay out of the field as much as possible."
Oliver only smiled.
"And that night… At the benefit…" He looked back and forth between them. "You guys called in the League?"
Chloe nodded. "We have a transmitter should we ever run into trouble. Your dad set off the alarm and they came in to help. Problem solved."
Connor stared ahead, still trying to process it all. "All those years I called you guys my heroes… you really were."
They smiled warmly.
He frowned. "And you've been lying to me for seventeen years."
Chloe grimaced. "We prefer misinforming."
He rolled his eyes. "Please! I asked you guys and you wouldn't tell me."
"You thought we were spies, we told you we weren't… We just didn't specify," Oliver reminded.
"Didn't specify that you're actually masked vigilantes saving people!"
"Semantics."
Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. "If it wasn't weird enough that I'm a son of billionaires or that my parents are still grossly in love… Now you guys have to be superheroes too!?"
"Sorry?" Chloe murmured, wincing.
"Why is it wrong that we love each other?" Oliver muttered, frowning.
"It's just weird!"
"Which part?"
"I dunno!" He threw his hands up. "All of it!"
"Okay…" Chloe chewed her lip. "Well, we can't really change most of it… We could give the money away and turn in the superhero badge, but we'd still be in love…"
Scoffing, he shook his head. "I know… I just… I mean, I don't even want you guys to do that." Frowning, his crossed his arms over his chest. "Even if everybody else things you guys are defective, I like that you guys still love each other… And I suppose having superhero parents isn't a bad thing, it'll just… take some getting used to."
Oliver grinned slowly. "Great, so all that's left is donating our billions."
Connor looked less than impressed. "Shut up."
"Hey, watch it, your dad is seriously deadly when in Arrow mode," Chloe teased.
"Yeah, all that green leather looks might daunting."
Oliver feigned offense. "Hey! It takes a lot of work to look this good and fight crime."
Laughing, Chloe shook her head at him. "Ego… All these years and it's never waned."
Smiling, Connor rolled his eyes. "You guys are gonna start flirting now, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Oliver replied, staring adoringly at his wife.
"Great… I'm heading to bed," he muttered, standing up.
Chloe hopped in front of him, stopping him. "So you're not upset with us?" she asked, worriedly.
"I'm… stunned," he admitted. "But kinda happy the mystery is finally solved."
With a sigh of relief, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him. "You come from good stock," she murmured against his ear. "I heard about your 'save the damsel and chase the robber' moment." Drawing back, she cupped his face. "All we ever wanted was for you to be safe and happy."
As Oliver stepped up behind her, his arm falling around her waist, Connor thought it was kind of funny that even dressed in green leather he still fit with his wife just right.
"I am, you know," he told them. "Totally safe and really happy."
Kissing his mom's cheek and accepting the ruffle to his hair that his dad gave him, Connor left for his room.
So yeah, his parents weren't really normal.
They loved each other deeply, spent most of their money helping others, doted on their son with unending support and love, and, oh, yeah, they played superheroes behind their every day lives.
And maybe he didn't have the most normal life and others found it kind of odd, but he loved it. He loved that there was nothing that could tear his parents apart, he loved that whatever happened they would always take of each other and him, and that when push came to shove, Connor Queen had the Justice League to back him up. So he could live without the divorced or bickering parents and the normal childhood. If he wasn't going to be an international spy or a businessman, he at least had a backup plan. Connor Queen – superhero. Yeah, he kinda liked the ring of that.