Mr and Mrs Queen

Summary: Oliver leaves Smallville with his new wife, who is hiding behind a different identity and pursuing her dreams in Star City.

Characters: Mainly Chloe, Oliver, Bruce

Rating: PG13

AN: Thank you for joining the stream of my consciousness once more. I wanted to do this since Fortune but Legends took over my head for a time. And so this comes a bit later, but I hope you will enjoy. There are a hundred married fics out there now. This is a drop of water in the pond of loveliness that is their married life. Expect mystery, action, drama and all that jazz.

Part 1

She hugged the cream coat over her body. California was warm and sunny, far warmer and sunnier than Kansas. Her favorite coat—a sentimental gift that was supposed to represent the warmth of an embrace—should have been more than enough. Tonight it was not. The air was cool and her cocktail dress was silk and thin. Chloe should have waited, and she was going to hear about her lack of caution.

Nobody could have predicted that the cab would break down, or that she would have to walk two blocks to the next stop where she was sure a lot of cabs waited. Chloe was grateful for the streetlights. Her phone rang inside her purse and Chloe picked it up.

"I'm coming," she said. "I know," Chloe answered. "Believe me I know. I'm stressed enough as it is." She glanced up at the street sign. "Somewhere along Pine. I'm not familiar with this area."

For someone who had worked saving people from this for years, she was rather stupid to be in this situation now. No matter how intelligent or aware though, Chloe realized that sometimes these things just happened. They had to clean up Star City. In the area where they lived the world seemed secure and clean. Apparently there were still drudges such as this one that they had forgotten about.

Chloe stopped still on her tracks when she saw the shadowed figure in front of her. Her heart raced. She was grateful she didn't have her ring.

"Give me your money."

She glanced around, found no weapon. Her heart sank when she realized there was another one behind her. As fantastic as she was now in hand to hand combat she was sure she could not take these two and what glinted under the moonlight in both their hands in her silk dress and high heels.

"Easy," she said. Chloe was about to open her purse. She hit the panic button on the phone in her hand. The man stalked towards her and grabbed her purse and her phone. When they scampered away she breathed a sigh of relief. Chloe collapsed back onto the post and gasped for breath.

She squealed out loud when a hand clamped over her mouth and suddenly she was pulled into a darkened alley. Chloe felt her back press against the wall. She looked up wide-eyed at the man who held her, and she relaxed beneath him. He stared at her with an odd mix of fury and fear.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out when he took his hand from her mouth. Chloe grabbed the leather-clad arms and then clung to his neck. Her body trembled so she held on. She heard him murmur a question as he inspected her, made sure she was not hurt. "I'm okay."

His eyebrows arched over his dark glasses. Chloe reached up and took off the glasses. She smoothed the furrow on his forehead. His jaw was tense when he said, "You should have taken the car."

"It doesn't fit." In this identity, in this mockup. Times like these he absolutely hated the rationale, no matter how he had sworn to support her this never sat well. But she was grateful he did not let go. She was fine. Even earlier she had always known he would swoop in and save the day, but she was not going to stop trembling any time soon.

"I don't care that it doesn't fit with Anne Jones' life. You're not Anne Jones. You're my wife," he insisted.

Brashly—Chloe just knew he would apologize later—Oliver took the golden diamond-studden watch from her wrist. He tossed it aside like it did not cost a little over a hundred thousand dollars. Chloe heard the clatter on the ground and did not care. From his belt he produced the ring she had left sitting at home in the bedside table, then slid it on her finger.

The sight of the ring made her throat tighten. Chloe thrust her hips against his. The cream coat hung off her shoulders. In the dark alley she raised her legs around his hips. The silk hem gathered around her waist. Oliver held onto her ass, his fingers digging into her flesh. Chloe bit her lower lip.

In the darkness where no one else could see she was his wife. In the darkness she was no one else but Chloe.

His gloved hand slipped between them. Chloe's head fell back when his fingertips teased over the moist portion of her panties and he pressed forward. Oliver pushed her underwear aside and thrust his fingers inside, where she was moist, dripping. Her hands grasped his back. Her lips sought his and she slanted her mouth over his.

"How long can we lie?" he asked huskily. Her one hand dipped down and she fumbled over the tights—pants—pushed them down fiercely and insistently.

"I'm not lying now," she answered, because really whatever name she used this was real. Between them, everything would always be real. She grasped the length of him and gasped out as he stretched and filled her. She met him thrust for every thrust. "Can't ever lie about this."

"You don't know how much I wanted you tonight."

Chloe cupped his face with her hands, gave him the load to keep them both upright as she captured his lips. She could tell what he thought every second, and she returned the pent up energy then. "Just remember I love you. Always just you," she said in reassurance. She owed him that at least. "Never loved anyone like I love you."

He was hard and strong inside her and he thrust. She shut her eyes tightly when something broke inside her. "God," he breathed into her ear, long and soft and drawn out.

She felt the tension in his shoulders as he controlled the movement of his hips. Chloe widened her legs, tightened the way she grasped onto his pumping hips. "It's okay," she said to him. "Let go. Don't hold back." And still the desperation with which he held himself told her he was fighting. "You don't need to hold back. It's me. It's your wife, Ollie. You can give me everything."

And then she felt it. Her body screamed, but the strength was coupled by the look in his eyes. "Chloe," he said her name, and she relished it, bathed in it. He exploded inside her and he pumped, over and over, erratic in the interval, shallow and so deep she almost wept. He spilled inside her in a hot series, filling her, spilling onto her inner thighs. Chloe closed her eyes and held tight, letting him take it all as she melted against him.

An hour ago

It was hardly appropriate, and Chloe knew it broke all the rules, but she was still young enough despite all that life had thrown her way that she was bubbling excitement over the gift-wrapped box that the man placed right on the table in front of her. Her eyes crinkled at the black card that sat on top of it. Her eyebrows rose at the sight. The B in cursive was enthralling. Somehow, because it was in white font atop the stark black card she was titillated by the possibility. Like it was a message of agreement for something she had been angling for so many months now.

She laid her fingertips on the edges of the box. Her nails gently traced the place where the paper met paper, eager to tear the cover to reveal what was inside.

Long ago she had hated presents because they spoke volumes of what she had been unwilling to face. Now presents thrilled her. She blamed it on Oliver. It was his fault for making every present more pleasurable than the last. He had been so successful even presents from other people made her heart leap. Chloe supposed that was how regular people—and by regular she thought of those people who were not as scarred and impossibly damaged as she had been—felt about presents in general.

Her eyes sparkled as she took the box in her hands and she whirled around, looking for the gift-giver partly to caution him that displays such as these were bound to call attention where they should not, and partly to thank him for being thoughtful. Chloe spotted the visitor, he who was the toast of Star City on his visit, lounging by the bar with his half-lidded eyes trained on her every move. She walked towards him and she could not help but feel the heat of his gaze as it rested on her hips.

If Oliver could see him, she would not hear the end of it later tonight.

When she reached her target, Chloe gave a small, lopsided grin. She dropped her voice, "And I thought we were playing it all under the covers."

"I merely wanted to show my appreciation."

The favor he had requested was not difficult. It had been barely a challenge. But the man had been used to operating on his own he likely did not know how easy life could be with a partner. Chloe had done far more dangerous tasks as a reporter than he requested when he was costumed and on the field.

"You do realize," she began, "that people saw this gift delivered, and now that you're talking to me so casually they would suspect that it's from you. They will be waiting to see why you, Mr Wayne, should be thanking me so personally."

"That question will land on you, Miss Jones. After all, I will be gone by the end of the week."

Her eyebrow arched. "Are you really going to leave me in a lurch, to face the media firestorm you're going to kickstart with a gift?" she asked.

"It was a gift." He grinned. It was such a rare sight she tamped down the urge to pull up her phone and take a snapshot. "Besides, I know you can give them hell."

"You'd have then stumbling over each other trying to find out more about me," Chloe pointed out.

"And we know there's nothing to find."

She had almost forgotten that the day she appeared Bruce had scrambled to figure out her hidden identity too. Thankfully, with the combined efforts of Tess and herself, with Oliver's resources, they had completed the transition from Chloe Sullivan to giving her some thin background as the newest Star City reporter Anne Jones. It was irritatingly general to Bruce; he had found thousands of Anne Jones from the US, to Australia, to England, to South Africa. It had been delightfully endearing to Oliver; he preferred to think Chloe was unwilling to be apart from at least part of her name and that she had latched onto their husband and wife identities of the late FBI agents.

"Nothing you can find at all," Chloe agreed. "Which makes me suspect they will hound me to death and I will never be able to respond to your SOS." She paused for effect. "Ever."

He muttered something under his breath. Chloe thought it could have been curse words. She was not certain. Knowing who she was talking to, it was likely curse words. Not likely. Quite probably. And then, Chloe decided, most definitely.

"You've gotta give me something, Bruce, that you can be infinitely grateful for."

He stared at her for a beat or two, then sighed. "A fantastic interview that puts me in a whole new light," he decided. "Something that doesn't refer to me as a playboy or some privileged kid. Not everything's been handed to me on a silver platter, you know." He glanced towards someone over Chloe's shoulder, and Chloe could not help but burst into laughter when Bruce continued, "Unlike other people like Star City's own Oliver Queen."

"You have something against Mr Queen?" she asked lightly.

"One of the privileged sons I went to school with. He has the nerve to glare at me right now like he owns Star City and I'm not welcome here." Chloe suspected that Bruce was inflating the look on Oliver's eyes. When Bruce placed a hand on her upper arm for an affectionate squeeze, Chloe realized that Bruce was right. She stepped away slowly, just enough to keep him from touching but not stepping too far away. "Let's say the gift was for a fair interview. I think you can manage to pull together a few paragraphs making the Wayne name sparkle."

"That's bribery," Chloe said. Different name or not, she was still careful of her journalistic reputation.

He snorted laughter. "Bribery requires that it be valuable enough to sway you. It can be something as stupid as a paperweight."

Chloe narrowed her eyes and shook the box. She was really more excited about the black card and that was what she had wanted to talk to him about. "Just tell me the B stands for what we talked about and you're now stepping up."

Bruce winced at her action, then caught her wrist to stop it. Chloe almost rolled her eyes. Of all the things he needed to do, he had to touch her. She knew someone in the room would protest violently, and it was not her. Chloe could almost feel the back of her neck prickle, almost hear his footsteps as he neared. "You don't want to do that. Believe me," he said to her, pushing down her wrist to steady the box.

Chloe's eyes flashed warning to Bruce. Any other man would have taken it, but Bruce Wayne had just the right amount of arrogance that Oliver had. When Bruce caught the look in her eyes, he glanced behind her. His vague confusion cleared when he saw Oliver near.

And then the bastard grinned. "Open it," Bruce said, smirking at her.

Chloe slowly turned her head, almost fearful of what she would see. Oliver stood patiently behind her now, close enough that he could draw her away at any time. But she had warned him over and over, and they had agreed that they would do this her way. So Oliver stood there, like he was waiting for a chance to converse with an old school friend.

Which they were. Chloe just needed to relax. Take comfort at least that her husband had enough control over his temper.

"Wooing ladies with gifts now, Bruce?" Oliver drawled behind her.

Chloe's toes curled. He had such a delicious voice when he drew it out like that. It was his threatening voice, aimed at Bruce. However it just sounded so sexy to her. She could not wait until she shed this identity and she could just come home and stop pretending.

Chloe swallowed. "Mr Queen," she greeted.

"Ms Jones," he returned. "I see Mr Wayne gave you a gift."

"To thank her for a job well done on the interview piece."

Oliver cocked his head. "I wasn't aware you were going to interview Mr Wayne."

Bruce chuckled. "I didn't know you were so interested in current events that you had tabs on Ms Jones' schedule."

"He doesn't," Chloe said quickly.

"Open it," Bruce urged again.

And Chloe did not know why—it certainly failed to pass all the tests she needed to take in her decisions to protect her identity—but she glanced at Oliver. Waited.

Oliver licked his lips. "Open it," he said, like it was a challenge.

"It's a paperweight," Chloe declared in defeat, her voice soft. And then, seeing the look on Oliver's face, Chloe sighed. She tore open the wrapper. Her eyes widened at the sight of the luxurious velvety sheet on the box. "It's gorgeous," she said breathlessly. "I mean, it's no satellite," she said quickly. "And of course I'm joking." Chloe licked her lips, then popped open the box. A white and red gold watch sat inside, the face mother of pearl and surrounded by glittering diamonds. "Oh my God." She thrust the box back towards Bruce like she had been burned.

"It's not a paperweight, is it?"

"You're going to cause trouble, Mr Wayne."

Bruce scoffed. "Your editor will not reprimand you for a watch."

Chloe stifled a retort about the watch and her paycheck. Instead she pushed the box into Bruce Wayne's hands. "That watch is more money than I can imagine."

She felt Oliver's eyes boring in the back of her head.

"Take the gift," Bruce advised. "It's a show of gratitude. It's not polite to refuse. I'll trust you more if I know there's at least one selfish bone in your body that lets you enjoy a nice gift, Ms Jones." He leaned close to her, and in the periphery of her vision she saw Oliver fist his hand at his side. Bruce whispered into her ear, "If you say no I've got to think there's something bigger out there than your purported need to see me step out and step up."

The conversation would not end. Chloe had now been used to a hero as stubborn as a mule. For now, at least, she let it go. She gave Bruce a frozen smile and thanked him. "Ms Jones, I'd like to have a word with Mr Wayne if you don't mind."

Bruce threw Oliver an amused look. "Always as smooth as silk, Queen." He held up a finger in a gesture of patience. Chloe imagined Oliver breaking the man's finger and all hell breaking loose—complete with flying meteor-tipped arrows and the computer-activated stars she had watched the two billionaire manufacture. Bruce returned his attention to Chloe as he snapped the lock of the gold watch, letting the loose bracelet dangle around her wrist.

It was beautiful, expensive. Oliver looked like he hated it.

"Thank you, Ms Jones."

Chloe released a breath. "You're welcome, Mr Wayne. Like I said, the story was part of the job."

"And what a wonderful job you did," Bruce replied with a gentle smile. "I'd like to see you again when I'm back in town. Or maybe you can visit me in Gotham for a weekend."

"Bruce," Oliver said sharply. "You might want to table the flirtation until we're done talking business."

Chloe winced at the interruption. Oliver's voice was brisk, and she was sure she would hear about the entire thing later. She cleared her throat. The watch was heavy around her wrist now. "You two talk," she said, dismissing herself. "I'll head out. Early day in the office tomorrow polishing up your interview for the presses, Mr Wayne." Bruce had discarded the box on the bar beside him, but Chloe moved to reach for the black card with the cursive B. Just the black card and she would have been happy. It told her that he had accepted the role she had worked to convince him to do. She brushed up against Bruce's body and he did not move away. The arrogant jerk just had to make it more complicated with a gift.

She knew gifts made things so complicated. Not all men acquiesced with as much patience as her husband.

Chloe made her way across the ballroom floor and stopped at the coat check. "Anne Jones," she said to the coat check lady. The woman left a few seconds and handed her the light cream coat. Chloe slipped into the coat and enjoyed the luxurious lining inside.

It had been Oliver's gift one month after their drunken wedding. She had found it sitting on the bed when she slipped into their bedroom after investigating a drug cartel, as she stumbled in the darkness of their home and found the cold dinner sitting on the table with the burned out candles. She had found him asleep on the bed in his slacks and dress shirt. She climbed into the bed behind him and wrapped her arms around him, then rubbed her cold nose against his ear. "Sorry," she had whispered.

He woke up at the uncomfortable coolness of her skin and opened his eyes. Oliver smiled gently, then wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled him down over his body. "That's what I get for marrying a career-minded girl," he murmured as he kissed her neck. Chloe had laughed until he said, "Happy one month anniversary, Chloe." And the laughter ended.

"I love it when you say my name," she whispered to him. She never realized how much she missed her name until everywhere she turned people called her by a different one. "I don't feel like a stranger with you."

Oliver nodded. He reached into the drawer of the bedside table, then took her hand, splayed her fingers with his. Chloe watched as he drew the wedding ring from where she left it every morning when she let her identity fall away and another take its place. Oliver slid the ring onto her finger and said, "I always know who you are." Even when a full month had passed she could not help the rush of tears in her eyes whenever she was faced with the indelible reminder that she was a wife. His. Even when she lived most of the day hiding it from the world. "I will always love who you are."

Someday she had promised him then, the world would see them, know them. But the life she had built in Star City required another name, another person. And the marriage was between Oliver Queen and a woman who did not exist. Sooner or later—she wondered how soon it would be—a city worker in Metropolis or some other, would stumble across the marriage certificate and leak to the world that the billionaire got hitched. And then the hunt for Chloe Sullivan would begin. "And I would happily vanish behind you then."

"You would never disappear behind me. You're too bright. You might even eclipse me, like the Watchtower eclipsed the Green Arrow every damn day you were missing."

She had shaken her head. In their bed, married without a question of whether it was right or wrong, she knew without a doubt that when the time came she would happily become the wife of someone as legendary as her hero. "But right now, I need to fulfill my mission and guide these new heroes." Chloe laid her hand on his chest, stared at the blinding diamond on her finger. "Come on," she urged him. She sat up on the bed and pulled him up with her. "I want dinner. I'll heat it up for you. What did you make?"

Oliver made her work to pull him up, and she laughed and grunted as she bore the heavy weight of him. Fair enough, she thought. He cooked, and she was pretty sure he was going to wash the dishes anyway.