Chloe watched the dough gradually come together in the mixing bowl as Oliver added the dry ingredients in small increments.

"So why can't we just mix it all at the same time?" he asked as he tipped his measuring cup again.

"I had the same idea when I was fourteen," she said, smiling at the memory. Martha had left her and Clark alone for a few minutes to finish the dough and returned to flour coating every surface within feet of their cookie workstation. "I dumped it in before Clark could stop me."

"I'm sensing it was a bad idea."

"Let's just say it took a lot longer to clean up the kitchen than it did to make the cookies."

Oliver added the last bit of the flour mixture and Chloe watched the dough carefully for another minute. "Okay, I think that's it. Now we need to let the dough rest in the refrigerator."

Chloe covered the bowl, placed it in the refrigerator and began to clean up. She washed and rinsed the items they'd used before passing them to Oliver to dry and set aside for later, when they would mix the icing. She watched him while they worked, surprised by how comfortable this felt, and by how quickly they'd settled into a routine. Something so domestic should have felt odd and yet, somehow, it was oddly familiar. She passed him the last dish, wondering if their team routines and occasional takeout dinners together could account for that familiarity.

When he turned back to her, he smiled. "You have a little flour on your nose."

Chloe brushed her fingers across the tip of her nose. "There?"

He shook his head and reached for her hand, pulling her closer. She stood, motionless, scarcely daring to breathe as he cupped the side of her face and brushed his thumb over her nose and across her cheek. Her throat felt dry and her pulse raced with the awareness that sprang up between them.

Oliver stroked her cheek once more before releasing her. "So I was thinking we could go downstairs for dinner this evening. There's a Christmas buffet, and there will be a pianist playing. It sounds festive."

Her mind felt fuzzy. "Dinner?" He was smiling at her again, which did nothing to help her concentrate on the conversation. "I mean, yes. The buffet sounds good."

Chloe stubbornly refused to acknowledge the way her heart fluttered in response to his touch. Get a grip, she reprimanded herself. She'd always prided herself on a certain level of immunity to Oliver's charm. Maybe she wasn't quite as immune as she'd thought, but she didn't have to let him know it.

"I'm just going to try calling my dad again," she finally said.

"If you're getting connection interference, try using my satellite hookup," he told her.

"Thanks," She walked into the living room where she'd left her laptop set up. The storm seemed to have died down a little, and she found the signal had improved as well.

When the call connected and her dad appeared on the screen, she smiled. "Hi Dad."

His expression was one of relief. "I know you said you were fine, but we've been following the news and New York has been hit pretty hard with the blackouts."

"I'm fine, Dad. As you can see, we have power here."

"We," he said. "Lois mentioned you're staying at the Waldorf with Oliver Queen."

He sounded cautiously curious, probably because she hadn't encouraged questions about her life in recent years.

"You know, I think Lois missed her calling as the town crier," Chloe replied, exasperated. "But yes, I saw Oliver at the airport after flights were canceled. Since we're both stuck here, he invited me to stay with him. We're in the Presidential Suite – I actually sat in President Kennedy's rocking chair this morning."

Her dad was a history buff, so she thought he would show some interest in the historical elements of the Waldorf's Presidential Suite. She was right, and they spent a few minutes talking about that before he was joined by her stepmother, Charlotte, and her daughters Anna and Brit.

"You know, I met a little girl a few years younger than you yesterday, and her name was also Anna," Chloe told the ten-year-old girl. Brit was busy with her phone until her mom plucked it from her hands, ignoring the teenager's protests.

Chloe smiled at the scene. It was happy, domestic. She was glad that her dad had found that again, but she couldn't help feeling a pang of loss for what she sometimes wondered if she'd ever have. She glanced up when she heard Oliver enter the room.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown on her face because he stopped and asked, "Everything okay?"

She nodded. He was wearing black track pants and a white cotton tank top. He paused to slip the matching black jacket on, zipping it halfway. "Going to the gym?"

"Yeah. I figured I have time to get in a workout before my next lesson in baking," he answered with a grin.

"We're making Martha's famous sugar cookies," she told her dad. Motioning to Oliver, she waited for him to join her on the sofa. "Dad, this is Oliver Queen. Oliver, my dad, Gabe Sullivan."

Oliver nodded at Gabe. "It's nice to meet you sir."

"You too, Oliver."

Gabe sounded a bit reserved. Considering her track record with billionaires, she supposed that was fair. More amusing was how fast Brit suddenly stopped pouting and began paying closer attention to the conversation.

Even Anna seemed interested as she suddenly asked, "Are you Chloe's boyfriend? I thought she was getting married but then Gabe said she wasn't."

Charlotte placed her hand over Anna's mouth. "And I think that's our cue, girls. Come on, I need help in the kitchen." She cast an apologetic look at Chloe as she herded them out of the living room.

"Sorry about that," Gabe said. "Lucy mentioned your engagement to the General. I guess she must have heard it from Lois."

She bit her lip. "I was going to tell you but… it didn't work out and I guess part of me knew it wasn't working because I didn't tell a lot of people. Jimmy and I broke up months ago." She felt Oliver's hand on her shoulder, a silent show of support.

"I'll just leave you two to catch up," Oliver said quietly. "Come and get me when you're ready to start on the cookies again."

Chloe smiled and nodded, watching him as he left the room. Moments later she heard the door open and shut in the entry hall.

"So you and Oliver are friends?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah, we are. I do some freelance work for him too, mostly security software programs."

"I thought that was just a hobby, or a tool you used to get information for your stories."

"Mostly it is, but a friend of mine works at Queen Industries in IT Security. When Oliver learned that I'm good with computers, he asked me to help out." It wasn't the complete truth, but it wasn't a lie. Maybe she just needed to work harder at giving him enough truths to maintain their connection.

Gabe mulled that over for a moment before changing the subject. He asked about the conference she'd covered, and he told her about his work and the new house he and Charlotte had just bought together. "We have a guest room, Chloe. Charlotte's looking forward to getting to know you. We both want you to know that you're always welcome."

"I'm still coming. After the airport opens again, I mean. I may not be able to stay long because I have to be back at work on the third, but I'd still like to see you."

"I'd like that, Chloe."

After she finished her call, she went to her bedroom and looked through her clothes to find something to wear that evening. She'd noticed that she and Oliver were underdressed for the restaurant when they had brunch the day before, though no one would dare call Oliver Queen out on that.

She had a couple of dresses that worked for evening and doubled for the office when paired with a fitted blazer. She eyed them critically before discarding them as too boring. She ignored the little voice that said it didn't matter if they were boring since this wasn't a date.

She paused when she saw the antique gold silk blouse she thought must have ended up in her suitcase by mistake when Lois was helping her pack. She hadn't worn it because it was too cold, but she pulled it out now to take a closer look. Vintage inspired, it had delicate ruffled details along the cap sleeves and the deep v-neck, which ended in a row of tiny hook buttons that controlled the amount of cleavage eft on display. The tightly fitted, ruched waist had a hidden side zipper, so it fit perfectly under her black skirt when she wore it to the office.

Chloe pulled out a slim black skirt with a hemline that fell just above her knee. While perfectly demure from the front, the slit in the back exposed a flash of leg with each step. It was the skirt she sometimes wore when she scored a major headline because she felt good wearing it.

Next she found her leopard heels, nodding when she had all three pieces together. She added a wide, black leather belt, retrieved a pair of tasteful black fishnet stockings from her suitcase and then went back to the wardrobe to consider her jacket choices. She nibbled her lip as she held up a black blazer, which seemed too office professional for a Christmas dinner.

She was hanging it up in the wardrobe when she saw the green leather jacket. She slipped the gold blouse underneath the jacket and had to admit the contrast of delicate and edgy worked. She still wouldn't fit in with the cocktail dress crowd, but she'd look good. She liked the idea of wearing it for the first time while she was with Oliver.

Since it was almost time to get the cookie dough out of the fridge, she decided to go down to the gym and see if Oliver was finished with his workout. She smiled at the attendant as she entered the elevator, watching him press the button for the nineteenth floor where the gym was located.

The fitness center was large and well-appointed with racks of weights and various exercise machines. According to the brochure, this center was only available for Towers guests, and she'd somehow expected it to look different from a normal gym. She supposed a gym was a gym no matter how much money you had, though she noticed a personal trainer working with one of the guests to her left.

Chloe tried to maintain her cool as she spotted Oliver doing pull-ups on a bar in front of the back mirror. He'd discarded his jacket but still wore the white tank top, and not for the first time she thought it should be illegal for any man to look that good covered in sweat. Rather than interrupt him, she sat on one of the benches and watched him – up, down, up, down.

The play of muscles flexing, the sheen of sweat on his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps - they all combined to do things to her body she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before. Her breasts felt heavy and tight and her thighs were clenching rhythmically in time to his steady up and down motion, which, when she realized it, made her face flame with a combination of arousal and embarrassment. This was crazy.

He dropped to the floor, stripped off his soaked tank top and reached for his towel, rubbing it across his face before carelessly swiping it over his chest and neck. He grabbed his jacket and water bottle and walked over to join her. "Cookie time?"

Chloe was transfixed by the single drop of moisture traversing his chest; it followed his sternum down, changing direction to roll over his perfectly etched abdominal muscles before disappearing into the waist band of his pants. His scent was enticingly male - some combination of soap and earthy musk which she decided must be from his workout. Whatever it was, she needed to properly categorize all of her feminine responses and tuck them away because this was Ollie, and while she appreciated the view now, much like she had in the past, this was a never-gonna-happen situation.

Unfortunately, her brain seemed to be the only part of her body that had gotten the memo.

"Chloe?"

She looked up and felt flushed all over again when she saw the grin spreading across his face. God what was he doing to her? Clearly he'd noticed her blatant ogling. She expected him to tease her about it but instead he slipped on his jacket and zipped it up.

"Do I have time for a shower before we bake the cookies?" he asked.

Chloe jumped when he placed his hand on her waist to guide her out of the fitness center. "That's fine. I'll go ahead and take the dough out while you're in the shower." When her errant libido conjured images of Oliver in the shower, water sluicing down his nude form, she flushed again.

The elevator ride up to their suite seemed to take a lifetime, and Oliver was standing far closer to her than he usually did. She felt hyper aware of him as her hormones picked up on his scent and the heat of his body next to hers.

He touched her arm and when their eyes met, it took her a few seconds to realize he had said something. "What?"

"What time do you want to go down for dinner?"

She cleared her throat. "Oh." She mentally calculated how much time they'd need for the cookies, adding in time for her to have a bath and get ready. Then she lost her entire train of thought when he reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, gentle fingers grazing the side of her neck and leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Fire. That's what it felt like every time he touched her, as if his fingers were hardwired into her central nervous system. When the hell did that happen? He'd touched her before and she'd never responded like a hormonal teenager, so what had changed?

She was startled from her thoughts when the elevator doors opened. Wordlessly, she followed Oliver into their suite.

In the living room, he turned to her. "So dinner? I want to call and make sure they reserve a good booth for us."

Right. Dinner. "How about seven?"

"Seven it is. I'll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes."

He disappeared down the hallway. Chloe sat on the sofa and leaned her head back, breathing deeply as she forced her brain to think of anything besides wet, naked Oliver.

Oliver smiled as he watched Chloe devote her full concentration to the cookie she was decorating. Now that the green icing they'd spread on the Christmas tree cookies had set up a little, they were adding ribbons of colored icing and small, ornament shaped sprinkles. They'd already finished the Santa cookies, the snowmen, candy canes and the ornament shapes, so this was the last batch.

Chloe's small fingers worked well with the tiny sprinkles as she placed them just so on the trees, a yellow star gracing the top of each one. "I'm kind of surprised they had all of these decorating supplies."

"I'm not," Oliver said. "I'm sure it's not the first time a guest has asked for something like this during the holidays, and they pride themselves on being able to supply whatever guests ask for."

"There," Chloe said as she finished the last cookie. Glancing over at his plate, she asked, "All done?"

"All done. So when do we get to eat these cookies we spent hours on?" He didn't usually eat cookies, but he was making an exception after all of the work he'd done.

"In keeping with Martha's tradition, we have one as soon as we finish." She walked over to the refrigerator and got out the milk, poured two small glasses and passed one to him. "So which one do you want to try?"

"I think I want one of those Christmas tree cookies you decorated so meticulously," he said with a grin. "I never realized the military precision it required."

She laughed. "Yeah, okay. Clark and Lois used to tease me about that, too, so I'm used to it."

"It's cute, though," he said as he picked up one of the Christmas tree cookies. "Hey Chloe?"

"Yeah?" She pursed her lips before choosing one of the Santa cookies.

He waited for her to look at him. "Thank you. For being here with me, and for making it fun. I've never really had that before."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling at him. "Thanks for not leaving me at the airport, even when I insisted I was fine."

"For the record, there is no circumstance where I'd be okay with leaving you stranded at an airport. It was kind of insulting that you thought I would."

"I'm sorry. I figured you'd have… company," she said. "Like that model you were dating a few months ago."

Oliver leaned against the counter and studied her. He wasn't sure if she was even aware of the unspoken question in her words. He started to ask her which model she was talking about but decided that reminding her of his past playboy antics might not be in his best interests at the moment. "As you know, most of the blurbs and photos in the society pages are publicity ops. My dates hardly qualify as dates."

She raised a brow but didn't challenge him. Instead, she held up her cookie. "Ready?"

Oliver took a bite of his cookie and was surprised by how much he liked it. It was sweet but not too much – certainly not as much as he'd expected with all the icing. "Wow, these are really good. I don't think I've ever had a soft cookie before."

"Martha's recipes are amazing, no matter what she's cooking," Chloe said.

When they finished their cookies and milk, Oliver glanced at the clock. "Why don't I clean up while you go get ready?"

Chloe hesitated. "It doesn't seem fair to leave you with the cleanup."

Oliver leaned around her to grab a hand towel and fought a smile when he heard her breath catch. One of his questions had received a definitive answer today – whether or not Chloe was as attracted to him as he was to her. She still seemed taken off guard by it, as if it had snuck up on her the same way it had on him back in Isis that night. But it was real, and unless he was mistaken, she was curious enough not to run away from it.

He leaned away from her and wiped his hands on the towel. "Tell you what – you save me a dance later and we'll call it even."

She was silent, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head. She was picking up on the unspoken intent behind his flirtatiousness because he wasn't bothering to hide it anymore. This time together was an opportunity, one that he might never have again. They were both busy people with hectic schedules and slightly cynical views of happily-ever-after. But here, snowed in together, those rough edges had softened. They were both just a little more vulnerable.

"Is this like a date? Tonight, I mean."

Chloe looked just as surprised by her question as he was which made him smile again. "What if it were? Would you be okay with that?"

After another considering pause, she nodded. "Yes."

"Then yes, Chloe," he said softly. "This is exactly like a date."

Her answering smile told him that finally they were on the same page. He whistled as he cleaned up the kitchen and placed foil over the plates of cookies. Then he went to get ready. Since he doubted that Chloe had packed any cocktail dresses for the conference, he chose one of his business suits for dinner.

Oliver was waiting in the living room when Chloe came down the hallway. Her hair, usually pin straight and smooth, fell in soft waves around face. Her smoky eyes looked more mysterious, their green shade enhanced, and her lips were berry stained and inviting.

She wore a gold silk blouse with a black skirt and a leather belt which defined her small waist. Ruffles at the cap sleeves and along the plunging neckline of her blouse made her look soft and feminine. Classic, small print fishnets and saucy leopard heels completed her vintage siren look. If this was the kind of thing she wore to the office, he was surprised the men in the bullpen got any work done.

"Wow," he said. "You look absolutely beautiful."

She smiled. "Thanks."

He took the green leather jacket from her and helped her slip it on. Then he offered his arm, feeling a surge of affection for her as she slipped her arm through his. Even in heels she was petite, but she fit against his side perfectly.

Downstairs they were led to the best booth in the restaurant. It offered a little privacy while still allowing them to see the pianist, who was playing jaunty Christmas tunes. Oliver saw a number of people he knew but didn't stop to talk to anyone because he wanted tonight to be about the two of them – just Chloe and Oliver. It was one date, but he had a lot riding on it. He wanted to make it perfect for her.

Chloe rarely thought about just how wealthy Oliver was. In the office he was the quintessential businessman; the rest of the time he was simply Ollie, her friend, or Green Arrow, her partner in crime fighting. Sure, she had access to many of his accounts, so she had a rough idea of his net worth because they often discussed how and where to funnel money for their various projects.

He'd given her a lot of autonomy in how to manage his money. There were the funds necessary to run the League, of course, as well as his generous donations to ISIS and various charities he'd asked her to look into. She'd been on his jet once, and she had seen him at a couple of black tie social events she covered for the paper. However, she'd never really seen him surrounded by the trappings of his wealth until now. This was the environment in which he'd grown up. He didn't even blink at the extravagant Waldorf hotel, and it was clear he expected a certain level of service.

It was the type of thing that usually made her feel a little out of her depth but with Ollie, she simply didn't. It was clear that he was focused on their time together and making sure she was comfortable. It had begun with him asking the hotel staff to decorate their suite and continued with all of the small things – the chocolate and fruit he'd requested for her, staying in to watch Christmas movies, the beautiful bouquet of flowers he'd picked out, and his willingness to indulge her by spending most of the day baking and decorating Christmas cookies.

By his own admission he didn't really do Christmas, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. She'd never have expected him to adapt so well to frivolous downtime that didn't involve a nightclub or other social event. She was beginning to suspect she'd underestimated him.

As they'd done at brunch the day before, they sat closely together in the booth, talking and sharing food. Chloe felt flushed again. Maybe it was the wine, but she thought it was mostly Oliver and the way he was looking at her. She felt like pinching herself to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep at the airport and dreamed up this perfect holiday.

Eventually their private bubble was invaded by a business associate of Oliver's, an elderly man named Tate Carson. He had to be pushing eighty and walked with an ornate oak cane, but the woman hanging on his arm, whom Chloe had assumed was his granddaughter, turned out to be his latest trophy wife, Liana. She was tall, voluptuous, and had long red hair that reminded Chloe of ads for hair color or pricey conditioner. In fact, the longer they talked, Chloe thought she actually did remember her from a hair commercial.

When Tate toddled away to talk to another friend, Oliver said, "Still spry and active, I see."

Liana rolled her eyes. "That old goat is going to outlive us all. It's not what I had in mind, but at least he's fun and not a homebody." With a little wave of her fingers, she headed for the wine bar.

Chloe raised her brows at Oliver, who shrugged and said, "Their arrangement is no secret. They both get what they want out of it."

"I guess I just can't imagine being so mercenary about something like marriage." And intimacy, she thought with a small shudder.

"Welcome to my world."

She remembered what he said before about being lonely. She thought she could understand that now because most of his relationships had been casual at best and at worst, they were as superficial as Tate and Liana because women were using him to achieve a lifestyle they desired. Tentatively, she reached for his hand, gratified when he linked their fingers together.

"Sometimes I get tired of the charade," he said. "The exhausting habit of always giving the world the Oliver Queen they expect to see which, depending on the company, is either a charming and entertaining playboy or a successful businessman. It's a lot of work to give people that guy instead of just being myself."

Chloe nodded. "I understand that charade, or at least a little. When I was with Jimmy I tried to show him my best side to make up for lying and being generally unavailable. But he wasn't stupid; he knew, deep down, he wasn't getting all of me, and the more other people saw us as a couple, the less we saw it, or even felt it. I was the one who pulled the pin in the end, but I think we were both relieved it was over."

"It's that fantasy element, I guess - the one that a relationship starts out in. But you have to grow past it or you'll never be prepared for all of the day-to-day struggles. I think what makes a relationship real is when both people are fully present for the good and the bad, and they look out for each other."

As he met her eyes, Chloe realized he was talking about them. About what he thought they could be as a couple instead of just friends and partners. There was a part of her that wanted it so badly it scared her because she knew it was risky. It could jeopardize what they'd worked to build together. But it could also be amazing and now that she'd acknowledged that potential, she couldn't dismiss it.

They danced and then joined a group of Oliver's acquaintances who waved them over. Chloe found herself watching Oliver as he talked, acutely conscious of his arm around her and his hand on her waist. When he stepped away to shake someone's hand, she was equally conscious of the physical distance between them - the sudden absence of his body beside hers felt wrong.

It's just Oliver, she told herself. They were Chloe and Oliver, the same two people they'd always been. Teammates. Partners. Friends. Only that wasn't precisely true anymore and she knew it. Yes, they were the same two people they'd been a day ago, or a week ago, but together they were something different. They were like puzzle pieces, turning and rearranging themselves to form a whole that was new and exciting.

Back in their suite, they lingered in the entry hall, both unwilling to break the spell of the evening by going to their separate rooms. When Oliver glanced up, she followed his gaze to see a bundle of mistletoe in the doorway between the entry hall and the living room.

"Well look at that," Oliver said as he smiled down at her.

Chloe laughed. "I don't remember seeing that yesterday."

"Santa must have left it," he told her. "We probably shouldn't let it go to waste. It's tradition, after all."

"Tradition, huh?" Mistletoe or no mistletoe, she wanted to kiss him. She'd been thinking about it all night, and now that the opportunity was presenting itself, she was going to indulge in a little wish fulfillment.

The first touch of his lips against hers was what she imagined kissing Oliver would be like. His lips were soft and warm, and they moved against hers with practiced ease and none of the awkwardness she'd always associated with first kisses. But when he pulled her closer – when the lines of her body melted into his and the kisses grew more urgent – it was more like being swept away by a tsunami.

Oliver was the one to pull back first, his hands gentle as they moved up and down her arms in a soothing gesture. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away like that."

Chloe took a shaky breath. Her hands still rested against his chest. Her fingers itched to go exploring as she recalled exactly how good he looked without a shirt on, but she knew he was right. They needed to slow down. "I'm pretty sure I was an equal participant in that little mistletoe experiment, so you don't need to apologize."

He swept her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

Chloe's brain was still a little fuzzy as she walked to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. In the bathroom she was shocked by the woman who stared back at her with wide eyes, flushed cheeks and lips still swollen from his kisses. This was what Oliver had seen on her face – pure, naked longing.

She brushed her fingers across her lips and then busied herself running a bath because she needed time to wind down before she could sleep. She also needed to think about where they went from here.

A/N: Sorry for my long hiatus. I'm working 50-60 hour weeks at my university this year because I took an admin position, but I'm hoping things slow down now that the initial mad rush of the beginning of the term is over. One reason I end up taking long hiatuses is that I don't usually write or edit unless I have a large block of time (a few hours) to devote to it. Somehow I don't see that happening this year, so I'm going to try writing or editing for one hour a day and see if that works any better.

We have one more chapter before this story is over. Thanks for sticking with me if you're still reading!