Chloe considered the tall man who stood beside her with his heart on his sleeve. He looked away from her to contemplate the large expense of grass and the looming shadow of Queen Manor at the end of it, then back at her, head hanged low, as if he waited a death sentence.

Her heart went out for the boy who'd lost his parents so young and had to grow up surrounded by people who saw nothing in him than a wallet or a good time. The brown gaze she held was an opened book. Everything rushed back to her, the salty taste of unwanted tears, the anger, the fear of not being enough for him, like she hadn't been enough for her mother. Or Clark. He had friends now. He had Hal. He had her. "So instead of risking exposing me, you put Hal in the crossfire? What do you think would have happened if they had found the Lantern's ring?"

Oliver's jaw fell. Chloe snorted. "Yes, I know that too." She shoved him in his shoulder. "If you had told me where you were going, I would have been worried sick yes, but I wouldn't have tried to stop you. I would have worked out something to help" Shove "because I trust you, you goddamned idiot!"

Chloe took one step forward, poked at his arm to punctuate each word.

"But no. You had to rush in with no back-up plan because of your stupid EGO! You work your ass off to stay on some ridiculous pedestal you think I've put you on. The billionaire gentleman. Chloe's knight in shining leather. The perfect prince charming." He cringed as her voice rose in volume. "Guess what, Oliver, I don't think you're perfect. I don't need you to be. I don't care if you're a flirt with a hero complex. I don't care if you know the doormen of every single club in Star City by name, or if you look so good without a shirt you would make a nun regret her vows. You're obstinate and frustrating and…" Chloe stomped her foot when she noticed the teasing light in his gaze. "Stopping looking at me like that."

Oliver caught her hand to stop her from hitting him again. "Like what?"

"Like I'm a kitten trying to roar and you're just indulging me."

The smile curled the corner of his mouth. Damned dimples. "Sorry?"

Her pulse quickened under his thumb on her wrist. She couldn't stay angry with him when warmth rolled off him to weave a cocoon around her. "You're doing it on purpose."

"Do what?"

"The whole… Oliver Queen's thing. Oozing charm and smoldering gaze…"

The dark brown eyes danced with hers, the fond amusement in them plowing through her defenses like a battling ram stealth in melted chocolate. Chloe wet her lips. Oliver dipped his head toward her. She closed her eyes. His mouth brushed over hers, so gentle she felt the loss more than that first touch. Chloe stumbled into him when he retreated, standing on tiptoes to claim him back. Oliver pressed a second kiss to her mouth, then a third. His tongue teased the seam of her lips. Fingers fumbled for purchase, his neck, her waist.

"Ollie…"

"Just a minute…"

He dove again, stealing her air like a wildfire. She welcomed the deeper kiss with a tiny mewl. He tasted of sunlight and life, of freedom and something unique and hot that was just him. Her heartbeat sought his, quick, quick as if their kiss was a race to something else, something universal and exclusive and so fragile. Chloe pressed her fingers to his mouth. "I'm… not sure… I'll be able… to walk… in a minute."

The feeling of his mouth against her fingertips promised wonders if she changed her mind.

"That's the idea, Sidekick…"

He was as breathless as she was, grinning against her lips as he lifted her off her feet and stole another kiss. Her body hummed when he put her back on her feet with a sliver of space between them. Chloe sighed, revelling in the scent of his cologne. All she wanted to do was to burrow into him and held on for the next decade. "You're better not making this a habit, Queen."

The dark gaze caressing her face sobered. Not so happy now, not so carefree. His hands fell away from her waist as he took a step back. "You kissed me back, Chloe."

And she'd handed him another piece of her heart as she opened to the glorious sensations he'd sparked inside her in the process. "I am talking about cheating your way out of arguments."

"Oh." Oliver grinned anew. Her heart pitter-pattered. She loved and hated that impish smile of his in equal measures. "No promises?"

"You're impossible."

"You like it. Come on. We're going this way." Oliver tugged her into his side, one arm slanted over her shoulders as he guided her toward the house.

The three stories building was everything Luthor's castle in Smallville was not. The limestone shone in soft tones of gold and white in the late afternoon light. She craned her neck to look at the roof and counted five chimneys poking through brick-colored slates. And the windows… There were windows everywhere, as if the architect had wanted natural light to flow through the building at all hours.

Chloe returned her attention to the man who escorted her. They still have much to discuss, now that apologies and accusations were out of the way. Oliver was a keen observer. She wanted him to tell her everything, to go beyond the detailed report he'd filed in the Watchtower. She wanted his impressions, his gut feeling. She wanted to ask why he'd kissed her.

The answer to that question terrified her more than the Bratva and Lionel Luthor combined. Was it a spur of the moment, the typical cliché to stop her rant? Or worse, did he harbor the same tangled knot of feelings and want in the pit of the stomach, the one that coiled tighter inside her the more time they spent together? She'd never been so scared of a question before.

They reached some kind of terrace flanked by two massive hydrangeas when his stride faltered. She pulled on his hand to force him to stop and turn. "I'd like to see more of the garden. It's really beautiful…"

His eyes caressed her face as he caught on with her hidden meaning. We don't have to go inside if it's too hard. I don't want you to be sad…

"It won't be long. I want to pick up a bottle in the cellar."

She followed as he circled a corner in the direction of a side door, desperate to distract him from the ache she felt pouring from him in waves. "My dad was a terrible cook. Really terrible. After my mom left us, he arranged for a neighbor to come and help. Marta Kent took upon herself to teach me. If not for her and Clark, I would have eaten peanut butter sandwiches for lunch all through middle and high school."

"I never had one of those obviously so I am not sure what I am missing."

"Nothing much, trust me."

Oliver released her hand to open the heavy wood door. Chloe peered inside. "Wow."

"Impressed?"

"Very…"

Kilometers of counters and glass-doors cabinet failed to fill up the space. She spotted an antique copper sink and faucet in one counter, next to a stone-lined fireplace wide enough to cook an entire sheep. Despite the month-worth of dust, the surface looked smooth and becoming. Oliver nudged her side. "Did Marta Kent's lessons include green beans casseroles and apple pies?"

"Maybe." Her lips twitched at the gourmand glint in his eyes. "Why are you asking?"

"Well—"

Chloe fell forward when Oliver pushed her roughly. Her hip banged against the door knob. She grunted in pain. "Ol—"

"Quiet."

She clammed up at once. Chloe fumbled to stand, grabbing his hand for purchase. Oliver pulled his arm back sharply. His dark eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness. The Green Arrow was in control and readying for a fight. He pointed at a blind space between the door and the closest cabinet and mouthed 'hide', his attention strained on something outside.

Chloe obeyed at once. She crawled to the spot, careful to stay out of sight. Fear started to churn, nauseating. She swallowed hard. Then muffled a scream with both hands when a shadow yanked Oliver by the neck like a ragdoll.