a/n: this is my first Smallville fic, so please be tough. I'd really like to know what you guys think and how I can write Chlollie better!
Title: Not as tough as Mom.
Pairing/Characters: Implied Chlollie, Implied Clois, Connor, Katie, and Robbie Queen.
Summary: While alone with the kids one day, Robbie Queen says something that really sticks with his dad. And ends up leading to some unforeseen consequences for his older siblings. Futurefic.
Somewhere, a door slams.
Wait for it, he thinks to himself. Three, two...
"CONNOR!" Katie Queen yells from upstairs. "Where is my hard drive?"
In the kitchen, Oliver's fifteen-year-old son freezes briefly before slamming his Calculus textbook closed. He grabs it, then, with one last wide-eyed look at his father, says, "Don't tell her I was here." He runs out of the room before his father can ask what the hell, exactly, has happened to Katie's desktop's hard drive.
The 'her' in question enters the kitchen a minute later, having thundered down the stairs. Her long, blonde hair is flying behind her; her green eyes, so much like her mother's, alight with fury.
"Where is he?"
Oliver shrugs nonchalantly, as if his elder son hadn't been sitting in front of him doing homework just moments before. "Hell if I know. I don't keep track of you guys."
"Oh, you know." She narrows her eyes accusingly. "You always know."
"Are you suggesting I spy on you, Katie?" he asks in mock outrage. "I'm insulted, truly."
"Dad," his daughter says flatly. "I am not amused. Now, tell me where Connor is." Next to him, Robbie snickers. As discreetly as he can, Ollie jabs him with his elbow.
"I haven't seen Connor all day," Oliver denies. "Maybe he's out with your mom."
"Negative. Mom just texted me saying she's on her way home, and to tell Connor that his world history textbook is still in the car."
"Maybe he's with Nate," Oliver says, referring to Lois and Clark's son, Jonathon.
"Father," she narrows her eyes. "Tell me. Or I will tell Mom about that time that you and Robbie-"
"You make it seem as if I'm afraid of your mother, Catherine," he interrupts smoothly. "And that's not true."
"Oh yeah, orange juice?"
She's pulled out the big guns, and now Oliver's kind of scared. She only ever calls him "father" when she's downright pissed, and she calls him 'orange juice' when she's looking to pick a fight.
They're technically one and the same, and equally unpleasant.
All four of his children have gotten their temper from their mother. A temper that they have very rarely used on her.
It's kind of funny that they get into so much trouble when Chloe's not around.
That's not karma, but it's something.
"He went that way," Robbie pipes up, stretching his arm out sideways, forefinger pointed at the third and last door in the kitchen, the one that led out into the hallway leading to the front door. The kid obviously doesn't want to risk being blackmailed by his older sister, but he's got enough faith in his mom to know that he'll get in very minimal trouble since it was mostly his father's fault anyways.
Katie smiles at her ten-year-old brother, her previous anger instantly vanishing, most likely at the thought of getting to hit Connor really hard. "Thanks, squirt." And then she whirls around and runs through the door, completely trusting of her baby brother's faulty information.
Oliver turns to his youngest child in surprise. "Nicely done, kiddo."
"Thanks, Dad," Robbie rolls his eyes, hopping off his stool at the kitchen island. "But it's not a big deal. A boy's gotta have his brother's back, you know?"
"Sure," Oliver agrees, even though he has no idea. Still, it's nice to see a show of sibling solidarity, even if it will further the never-ending Katie-Connor Wars. "But he took her hard drive?"
"Don't ask me," Robbie shrugs. "Siblings are weird."
"I don't understand why you kids just decide that when your mom's gone, you can disregard all rules. Katie never yells across the house when Chloe's here. And Connor sure as hell doesn't mess with his sister's computers."
"Well that's easy, Dad," Robbie says, opening the fridge and pulling out two cans of Coke. He lays one sideways on the island and flicks it, so it rolls over to Oliver. "It's 'cause you're the good cop."
Oliver frowns. "The good cop?"
"Yeah. The funner parent."
"See, there you go again with the bad grammar."
Robbie pouts. "Is it really that important?"
"Yes. And what do you mean I'm the funner parent?"
"Oh, you know," his son answers, inching his way out of the kitchen. "You'rejustnotastoughasmom."
And then, for the third time in five minutes, another one of Oliver Queen's kids ditches him.
"'Not as tough as Mom'?" He mutters to himself. "Not as tough as Mom?"
Chloe's fast asleep next to him when he rolls over on his side and props himself on his elbow to turn his bedside lamp on. He props a pillow up and leans against the headboard, eyes straying towards his sleeping wife, "Not as tough as Mom. Really?"
Restless, he gets out of bed and starts walking toward the door, careful not to wake Chloe. He's halfway there when he bumps into one of his shoes. "Ow."
"Ollie?" Chloe's eyes flutter open. "What are you doing?"
"I-uh," he turns around, looking like he's just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Food?"
"At," she turns to look at the alarm clock. "4:56 in the morning?"
"Actually," he smirks, an idea forming in his head. "I'm about to go wake up Katie."
"She always says she wants to patrol with me, right? I figure the first step to that is training. And she needs to eat before she does that."
"At five o'clock in the morning?"
"You know I work out early, Sidekick."
"Yeah," he grins. "Seriously."
Not as tough as Mom, his ass. He'll show them tough.
Katie and Connor are not happy. Their eyes are droopy and they're shivering, the natural reaction to getting three hours of sleep and being up at five o'clock in the morning during summer vacation.
On the plus side, Oliver's never seen his two eldest kids being peaceful with each other in such close capacity before. It's refreshing.
"Alright," he claps his hands together, smiling wider than he probably should. "Wake up people, this is training, not sleepy-time."
Katie yawns loudly. "That's great, train Connor. I'm going back to sleep."
"Uh uh uh," Oliver says. "This is not like last summer when you gave me the puppy dog look and I melted. No. This summer is serious. Fitness. Training. And look," he pulls two papers out from behind his back. "I even made schedules."
Yeah, he can be tough.
a/n: I hope you liked it! Like I said, it's my first foray into Smallville fanfiction, so please review. (:
If enough people like it, I might make it a universe.