The Duke hotel was Oliver's favorite stay in London. It was posh without being ostentatious, exclusive without being snobbish, and altogether comfortable. Every one of its 95 rooms came with excellent service, and a discretion he appreciated.

The long-standing manager knew him well and managed to shuffle his reservations so that they were ushered to one of the luxury suites with a view on Green Park when they arrived some time around two.

The bed they'd fallen into was a dream of plump pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets he would never had left but for the excess energy he needed to burn

Waking up tangled with Chloe was an experience he couldn't wait to repeat. They hadn't really talked about it, just changed and slid under the covers holding each other. She was still nestled under the duvet when he'd come back from the gym, all pale skin and golden hair, warm…

Oliver inhaled sharply and turned the valve to cold. Icy water crashed on his head and shoulders, dousing his arousal instantly. He cursed between clenched teeth. He'd better get used to cold showers. Sharing a bed with Chloe without being able to touch her the way he wanted to… Yeah. Cold shower it was.

After a minute, he shut the winter downpour and stepped out of the shower. His reflection in the mirror glared back at him for the treatment. Running a hand over his chin, Oliver decided shaving could wait and dressed quickly in jeans and a V-neck tee-shirt before he reentered the room on tiptoes, in case Chloe was still sleeping.

She wasn't. His blonde fairy sat against a mountain of pillows she'd arranged against the header, the comforter pooling around her knees as she savored a cup of coffee. Her tousled blond hair and dreamy smile screamed "morning after" so loud he almost faltered in his step.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Hey…"

"Hi. You got up early."

"I wanted to use the gym." He teased himself with a taste of her lips. "Happy birthday…"

Chloe curled one hand around his neck to keep him down and claimed his mouth for a longer, deeper kiss. Oliver sank on the bed and into the kiss happily. Now her hands were free, Chloe caressed his shoulders and arms, apparently fascinated with the play of muscles her caresses elicited. Oliver indulged her, too lost in the sensations to protest or withdraw. Chloe finally let him suck in air, a little breathless herself. "Happy birthday to me…"

Her grin finished to undo all the good his workout and icy shower had done. Oliver grabbed her by the waist to pull her away from her pillows and into his body, groaning into her neck. "Chloe…"

The strap of her camisole slid around one delectable shoulder. Oliver followed its fall with one finger, enthralled with each jump of her pulse under his tongue. Her legs kicked at the sheets that limited her movement.

Oliver chuckled against her skin. Rather than helping her get free, he pinned her hands on her sides. Chloe stilled under him, her smaller body bowed into his while she whined softly.

He kissed the hollow of her throat, "mine…" then lower at the gentle swell above her heart.

Her fingers gripped the sheets for support. "Ollie…"

"All mine."

The mark on his back burned. Even without its encouragement, he wouldn't have resisted. She felt incredible beneath him, her curvy body molded to his as if it'd been made for him, and only him. He freed one hand to bunch the satin of her top. One breast bared, round, and warm and perfect.

The fire extended to his loins. Chloe undulated under him, her fingers hooked on his waist now, tempting him to hasten and bury himself deep inside her. Oliver took her mouth instead. He wanted to discover every single way to make her tremble and to make her sigh. She deserved he took his time, and made love to her slowly, thoroughly, so she forgot she'd ever laid with another man. She belonged to him, with him, always.

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her top up and over her head. His tee-shirt followed. Chloe gasped at the first contact of her skin against his. Oliver stole that tiny spike of air from her tongue then sat back on his heels to look at her.

Her creamy skin flushed with arousal invited to ravage, her swollen lips more kisses. Her witchy eyes captured his, beaconing him back to her. Her arms opened in a sultry invitation he couldn't resist. Oliver lowered himself on the top of her, guiding her shapely leg around him while he devoured her.

The light knock on the door boomed above their heads like thunder. Oliver's grip on her hips hardened.

"Breakfast…" Chloe panted.

Damned it. Since they hadn't hanged the "do not disturb sign", if he ignored it the waiter would probably enter the room to deliver their trays. He pecked the top of her breast. "I thought that was you…"

Chloe giggled. Oliver pushed up on his elbows, reluctant to leave the welcoming nest of her hips. He stole one last searing kiss from her lips before he mustered all his might and pushed away from her and off the bed.

Chloe escaped to the bathroom while he opened the door to the patient waiter.

By the time Chloe reemerged fully dressed, he had his urges under control, and watched the news on BBC one. Oliver brought one of her hands to his lips to kiss the inner side of her wrist. He resisted the sudden need to seat her on his lap when a light blush colored her cheeks at the tenderness. If he did, they would get carried away again and he clearly had some leg work to do first.

"I've been thinking…"

"Really?"

"Very funny, Sidekick."

He pushed the creamer toward her, observing how she fixed her drink. She always put the cream first, then the coffee, before she took a sip with her eyes closed to half-mast. Her morning coffee was always sweetless while she put a somewhat indecent quantity of sugar into the mix in the afternoon and evening.

Chloe lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing. You're gorgeous, is all."

She blushed at the compliment. Oliver returned his attention to his own breakfast and the subject at hand. "I think it's time to get the League in."

"The League? Why? How?" She licked her lips and repeated, "why?" as if that was the most important part, as if she firmly believed the two of them were more than capable to solve the mystery, put the villain behind bars and ride in the setting sun. Pride swelled in his chest at the thought.

He fought to find an answer that would keep her faith in him alive. "Misdirection?"

"I don't understand."

Oliver smiled at her. "Think about it. We can't be seen in Leeds. I'm too recognizable, and now so are you. So we send someone we trust in our stand, who will know what to look for."

"And who's that paragon of virtue?"

He shrugged, eyes narrowing on the TV. "I was thinking about calling Zatanna again."

Chloe turned in her chair to look in the direction of the flat screen. The only thing she got was some movie star walking out of the Savoy Hotel.

He caught her expression and shut down the TV. "Sorry, apparently the NASDAQ took a hit yesterday. Zee's the most obvious choice. Clark and meteorites don't really mix and Hal is too close to me to go unnoticed, especially now he showed up in Turkey. I don't suppose you want anyone else involve."

He certainly didn't. AC was somewhere in Japan dealing with whale poachers, and the other speedster on their team would gladly jump on the opportunity to do a favor to his Chloelicious. He would take care of Impulse's ridiculous infatuation in due time. Victor could do it, but Oliver'd rather keep him where he was. With both him and Chloe' on leave, Vic was more useful monitoring the League.

Chloe looked dubious. He hadn't expected any less from her.

"We need to plan this like a real mission."

He'd expected that, too. "We will. After we talk to Zatanna."

Which wouldn't happen until tomorrow. Dissecting a JL mission was not on the list for her birthday, if he had any say in the matter. He had other plans in mind.

After the summer-like temperature of Turkey, London's spring breeze was a shock to the system. They walked briskly through St-James park to Westminster Abbey. Thankfully, the line was short, and they got out of the wind within minutes. To see the millennial church through Chloe's wide eyes was an experience in itself, Oliver decided. The size of the building, the rich decoration and architecture, and the weight of its history seemed to move her to tears. She spent long minutes staring stone floors and monuments, her lips moving quietly as if she was reciting Lewis Carroll or Charles Dickens to herself.

After that the Palace of Westminster appeared a little more mondain. They stayed long enough to listen to the bells chime, but declined the offer for a full tour, since the most interesting parts were in refurbishment and would not be accessible.

From there, Oliver insisted they visit the National Gallery. The Art museum was probably his favorite in the city, much more than the crowded British Museum. They reached Trafalgar Square just in time before a light rain started to fall.

"I didn't know you liked Art that much," Chloe remarked as he nodded in appreciation at the explanation a tour guide was giving about Van Gogh's Sunflowers.

"Yes, I do. I don't have enough time for it, but it's something I enjoy." Oliver hesitated. "I guess it's something I picked up from my mother. When I was a kid, she was dragging us to Galleries and the Star City Museum of Art every other month. I think Dad indulged her to make up for the boring fundraisers."

Chloe entwined their fingers and squeezed his hand lightly. "It's nice. Did she paint?"

"I… don't know."

Oliver swallowed tightly. How stupid was it, to remember his mother talking about Art, and not know if she had any kind of talent? Chloe tugged at his hand to pull away from his melancholy and further into the room. "Tell me about this one."

She was looking at a Gauguin's Bowl of fruit. "Gauguin painted that to salute Cezanne. The colors are still with the school of Impressionism, but the shapes are well defined, more fixed. It's one of his first pieces moving away from that movement and toward his own Avant-Guard style."

"Oh, this one is wonderful…"

Oliver read the label. "John Russell, Les Terrasses de Monte Cassino. I don't think I've seen that one before. It's a loan from a private collection."

The pink and blue meshed together to give the illusion of dusk falling on a mountain in Italy. Delicate brushes in green and sienna red made the trees danced in the wind. Oliver took a mental note to research the artist.

They continued to err hand in hand without real structure to their visit, until Chloe asked for a coffee break. Once they were installed at a small table with a coffee mug for her, a cup of Early Grey for him and a plate of snacks, Oliver checked the floor plan in his hand.

"How interested are you in Botticelli and Raffaello?"

"Why?" Chloe shot him a suspicious glance above the rim of her cup. "What do you have in mind?"

"Shopping. And before you say no, let me remind you that it's your birthday and I owe you a real date."

"I'm pretty sure jeans are acceptable pubs' attire."

"I had something a little more upscale in mind for tonight. We can go to a pub tomorrow."

Chloe groaned. Oliver gave her his best puppy look. "Come on, Sidekick… Let me spoil you a little. Today's a special occasion."

He knew he had won this round when she heaved out a heavy sigh. Oliver grinned widely. "Great. We'll take a cab."