Chloe contemplated the table from her sprawled position on the terrace loveseat. "I'm too close to a food coma to move and clean up."

Seated in front of her in the opposite seat, Oliver chuckled. "I'll do that later. Why did you cook for a small army anyway?"

She shrugged unwilling to bring up the obvious. The strain between them was stressful and when she was stressed out, she cooked. Or she panicked. Today, she'd cooked. Dinner rolls, a green beans casserole, two types of Mac & Cheese because it was her favorite Thanksgiving dish, mash potatoes to go with the bacon-wrapped Turkey legs. And apple pies. Three of those. So even with a small bite of everything, she was stuffed and pleasantly buzzed from the delicious Bordeaux Pomerol Oliver had selected to go with diner and convinced her to try.

Chloe yawned and stretched her arms in front of her, lids drooping as she contemplated her short sleeves. The evening was pleasant warm. "Thanksgiving without cold temperatures is not really Thanksgiving."

"I don't understand your fascination for the cold." Oliver twirled the content of his glass before he drained it. She tried to ignore the rush of warmth on her cheeks when his Adam Apple bobbed up and down. "Who wishes for sub-zero temperatures that last for months?"

Chloe snatched the cushion in her back to curl around it like a cat. Relaxing for the first time in days made her sleepy. Oliver too looked more at ease. The permanent frown he'd worn since the weekend was gone. The quirk of his lips curled just a tad more so his smile finally reached his eyes again.

"Christmas without snow is not Christmas."

"It's Thanksgiving."

She stuck her tongue at him. If she had to explain the appeal of cuddling under a blanket… Chloe changed the subject. "Do you plan to patrol tonight?"

"Probably for an hour or two. I've got calories to burn." Chloe rolled her eyes. "You don't have to wait up if you're tired."

"You'll rush into trouble head first if I'm not there."

"Contrary to you guiding me into it, is that it?"

"Exactly."

She started to pull a face at him, and yawned instead. Chloe hid it behind her cushion. "Sorry."

Oliver leaned back in his seat. "I've been thinking about something you said yesterday." Her gaze focused on his face, her mind suddenly much more alert. "About getting a fresh sample of the drug."

"Yes?"

"I wonder if Dorothy Gale is up for some leg work next week."

Chloe sat a little straighter in her seat. "What kind of leg work?"

"Interviews. The skinheads that attacked that church were doped to their eyeballs and incredibly aggressive. It could be a coincidence…"

"Or it could be the same drug. Are they still detained? If I can get a pass, I could get one of them to talk…"

"Not them." Oliver's scotch glass clang when its bottom hit the table. "You're not going anywhere near—" She narrowed his eyes so he changed course. "They won't say anything. But the man they attacked might." Oliver rolled his head on his shoulders, smiled. "It would make sense for Miss Gale to cover that story, since she's the Green Arrow's No. 1 groupie and his personal Press attaché…"

Chloe rebelled. "I'm not your groupie."

Oliver smirked wider. "Cheerleader then. I bet you were a very cute one in High School."

"I was not—" Chloe flushed. "It lasted less than a day and I wasn't myself."

When he leaned forward with a glint in his eyes, her flush deepened. "Are there pictures?"

"Shut up, Oliver. It was humiliating. I made a fool of myself with Clark."

The teasing winked out, replaced by a silent purse of the lips. Chloe exhaled, relieved to be off the hook. She didn't want to discuss Clark with Oliver, especially not that time when she'd accidently drink some Kryptonite enhanced drink and all but assaulted him in his barn wearing nothing but his football jersey and boy shorts.

Oliver pushed to his feet. "One of these days, you'll have to tell me all about growing up in Smallville. It sounds like I missed out."

The kiss he dropped on the crown of her hair took her by surprise. Chloe stared at his retreating back, dumbfounded. The desire to call him back and wrap herself around him was disquieting. He'd done nothing to entice the reaction. Just stare, smile and joke with her as if the last five days hadn't happened. He had barely touched her since their hug fest in the elevator, and even that had been more brotherly than anything. She sighed as she squirmed on her chair.

"Am I in trouble again? What did I do this time?" Oliver grinned his familiar grin at her. "Your laptop. And coffee."

Chloe gulped some coffee, scalded her tongue. "Thanks. No, it's all good. I just got lost in my head, everything's good." Oliver took a seat on the loveseat next to her. She preferred to return to their previous topic, before thoughts of Clark and near kisses came into the equation. "Why do you think I should talk to the priest?"

He considered her for a moment before answering. The light played hide and seek on his Greek-like features. Chloe focused on her screen.

"He told me those kids were on drugs. He might know where they got it. Tenders like him notice a lot of things. They know and they're powerless to stop it."

She loved how controlled frustration gravelled his voice. He cared so much about others… "You change things."

"We do."

Chloe typed away rather than acknowledge the compliment. "He's still at the Memorial Hospital. He has some cracks ribs and a severe concussion, but he'll make a full recovery… Oliver did you pay his bills?"

He put his arm on the backseat behind her. "Queen Industries work with the hospital. Accounting loves the taxes deduction."

Pride and something warmer swell in her chest. Chloe leaned sideways to press a kiss on his cheek. "You're a big softie, Oliver."

She swore she saw him blush when she straightened up. "If you're done insulting my manhood, why don't you explain what that is?"

He pointed at a global mapper icon. Chloe called the program to show him the mapping she'd done crossing violent aggressions police reports and known drug busts. Oliver bobbed his head in appreciation.

"You're trying to work out the lab's location."

"I haven't found a pattern yet. The dots are all over the map. I need to rework the search feed."

"Maybe…" Oliver rubbed his jaw with the heel of his hand. Chloe adjusted her position on the loveseat so his reflection on the screen stopped distracting her. "Or maybe you need another filter."

"What do you mean?"

Oliver squinted at the map a second longer, before he extended one hand. "May I?"

She pushed the laptop toward him. "Last time Zlythe played God, he made sure his product was nowhere near his lab. Don't litter in your own backyard… I underwent the same kind of exercise you're doing now. That's how I found him, here." He pointed at a location. "At the time, the gap hole was obvious. The guy is brilliant. He won't make the same mistake twice."

"So what I did is pointless," Chloe huffed. She'd spent hours dissecting reports and organizing the information so she could map it.

"Not necessarily."

She watched as he called in her database. "Good, you logged in the dates. If we map those in chronological order…"

He swapped columns, reloaded the full database in her software and refreshed the view. Dots and Xs reappeared, color-coded by weeks. Concentric circles expended from a central point somewhere in the south of the city.

Oliver's dark eyes sparkled with anticipation. "So tell me, Sidekick, if you were testing a new recipe, who would be trying it first?"

She matched his grin with one of her owns. "You, because you're the closest lab Rat."

"You're mistaking me for the giant rodent in Gotham." Oliver returned her computer with a grin and stood. "Guess we know where I'm heading now. I'll suit up."