A/N: Sorry... this story mutated on me and that's why it took so long to get this out. It's short, but Chapter 6 will make up for it (3300 words and counting...)

Chapter 5

Macallan ten-year scotch. It's considered to be one of the best in the world, something that Oliver's probably used to having. For me, it was never about the contents of the bottle, but rather the moment, the memory that I was supposed to have and never did.

My dad bought it for me when I got my first article published at the Daily Planet and told me we'd share a drink when I was old enough to drink it. Unfortunately, two months later he took off without saying goodbye. I haven't seen him since.

For years, the bottle sat in my liquor cabinet because I held onto the hope that he would come back. I waited for him to come back to walk me down the aisle, or when I officially started working at the Planet, or even after Jimmy died. But he never did.

So when I decided to take a vacation, I figured I had to celebrate taking time for myself, but that didn't make pouring it into a second glass any easier. I mean, Oliver had been great, but it just wasn't the same.

Walking back towards the fireplace, I saw Oliver sitting on the floor while resting his back on the couch. I could tell that he was nervous; there was an air of worry in his eyes.

I settled next to him and handed him his drink. "Here, this should help take the edge off."

His lips twitched slightly out, trying to smile. "Thanks." He took a sip and placed it on the floor.

My eyes moved from his face to my glass. "You really don't want to do it, do you?"

"What?"

"The press conference...firing all those people."

After letting a sigh out, he replied, "I've had my life handed to me, and it hurts to take someone else's away because they've earned it more than I have."

"Then why do it?"

"It's what they think is best — it's what happens in these situations."

I tried to scoff under my breath, but Oliver heard it and turned to me.

"What is it?"

"You want people to see you instead of your title, yet you're letting a group of men in bad suits tell you how to run your company."

"They're my advisors."

"Exactly— they advise— which means that you don't have to do what they say. What do you want to do?"

"It's not that easy."

Swirling my drink, I sighed. "Nothing in life worth having is easy." I looked up at him and added, "but if you want people's respect, you have to earn it. Start acting like a CEO instead of a figurehead."

After staring at me for a moment, he broke into a smile.

"What?"

"It's been a long time since someone has been that honest with me."

"Really? I thought Tess would drive you into the ground with your history."

"She's critical - there's a difference."

"Tess is critical to everyone."

"Speaking of history though, what is the deal with you and Clark?"

I had hoped we could avoid this conversation, yet I guess it was only a matter of time before it would come up again. "We're just friends."

"Yeah...I got that story the first night. I may not know everything about you, but I'm not an idiot."

I bowed my head in defeat. "There's nothing else to tell... that's what we are."

"Which means that he only sees you as a friend right?"

I brought my glass to my lips and took a sip. "With him there was always someone else... someone prettier, more dedicated or... something."

He put his hand on my shoulder, the initial touch causing a chill to go throughout my body. "It's his loss."

Staring at his hand, I tried to stay calm. "You really believe that?"

Oliver moved his hand to push a loose curl of my hair behind my ear. "All these years, he's had a beautiful woman right in front of him and he refused to see it."

I turned my head away to look out the window. "You're just saying that to be nice."

"What? You don't believe me?"

"No."

He persisted, "What's not to like about you Chloe? You're at the height of your career, you have good taste in scotch, you're fun to hang out with, and you could probably kick the average guy's ass."

Taking flattery was not my strong suit so it didn't surprise me when I felt my cheeks warming up, which made me grateful that he couldn't see it. "But not yours?"

He whispered in my ear, "I wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating you."

I could feel my chest tighten with each word, but I had to face him. As I turned my head slowly, I noticed Oliver had kept his head within inches of mine. Trying to maintain a poker face, I remarked, "The one advantage to being a petite blonde."

Sitting back up, Oliver said, "All I know is you're unlike anyone I've ever met."

"After only five days?"

"Especially after five days. I don't know how he did it, but I think Clark's managed to get you to repress a whole side of your personality. Underneath that hard exterior is a really interesting person that I'm not sure even you know about because you are always undermining yourself."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The fact you let me in on the night we met. I treated you like garbage and you reacted accordingly, yet you still helped me."

"I did that because I thought you would sue me."

"Seriously?"

I shook my head. "The thought crossed my mind, but no. I did that because I always want to help people."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Sometimes it is."

He raised an eyebrow. "Was it this time?"

"Surprisingly, no. You've been a pleasant surprise."

I had turned my head to place my drink on the coffee table when I felt Oliver's fingers graze my hand on the floor. Before I had a chance to react, he had slightly retracted his hand while he sat with his eyes glued to the fireplace without as much of a smirk on his face. Despite appearing oblivious to his actions, he had to know that I felt that. But he didn't say anything, which meant one thing to me...it was my move.

I thought about the time we'd spent together from laughing over food to metaphorically (and literally) crying on each other's shoulders to getting soaked in the rain... the truth was we were getting close. I had meant it when I said that he had been a pleasant surprise, but despite the circumstances, I never thought he would give me a second look. But he had, and even though after two more days, he would go back to his life and likely forget all about me, that didn't mean that we couldn't enjoy the moment... this moment.

So I leaned back on the couch and slowly moved my hand under his. Taking a deep breath, I cupped my fingers around his hand and squeezed it lightly. I could feel his gaze on me as he tightened his grip, but instead of meeting it, I placed my head onto his shoulder and smiled.

Even as the lights flickered back on, we sat side-by-side on the floor admiring the fire in front of us.