Action Time (Chapter Three)

Chloe typed and clicked away, waiting for that moment when everything worked in harmony. She'd hooked everything up, hardware-wise, now she had to get it to work under her fingers, the machines at her command rather than her at the mercy of them. And she was always technically licking their boots. That was the thing about technology. It constantly changed and she had to keep up.

But wasn't that the way of the world? Anyway, she'd get there. She liked to imagine it was like a story. When the facts lined up, when the interviews checked out, when everything could be brought into a cohesive mass. She'd be the one to reconcile it all. The analogy sometimes filled her with loss. Still, she'd tried thinking of it any other way, like baking or sculpting or building blocks -- none of which had ever been a passion of hers and would seem infinitely safer to think about. But, considering she'd been a reporter from eight till twenty-one, it was hard not to think of things in those terms. She wished she could turn it off, wanting silly things for herself. It was childish and selfish. She could do so much more good in the world if she could just let go of these selfish notions of being remembered, known, recognised. Her very existance now was clothed in anonymity and it was for the best. She needed to learn that there were things she couldn't have now.

It was a sad thought, that she might go through her whole life not having what she'd wanted. That, even though she couldn't have it, she'd always yearn to be a re...

INTRUDER.

She sighed. Maybe that's what she was now. Under the grid. Unwanted. An...

INTRUDER

She jumped away from her console, realizing this wasn't just some internal thought as the computerized voice boomed around her. She was on her way to her newly unpacked desk for a gun which may or may not be useful, considering... when the voice stopped her again, softer now...

Verified. Queen, Oliver. Verified.

She moved to her monitor, seeing him -- another thing she couldn't have.

She decided to allow herself one more moment of pity before he got there. She'd struggled, worked hard, sacrificed so much in the name of this greater good for years. She'd been fired, infected by a supercomputer, nearly killed countless times, declared dead twice. And that was just the tip of it. She had nothing to show for it. And it hurt, adding it all up and finding nothing.

Still, not nothing. Maybe nothing for herself, but wasn't she needed? If she called, wouldn't at least four superheroes and one highly skilled supposedly regular guy be right there? And even Clark, even now.

Being needed. That was something she could have. She'd had it from the moment she saw Clark catch a car, whether he knew he needed her or not. He needed her. He needed someone normal, really. Someone like her. Not for what she could do, as useful as it was, but just to be there. Someone normal -- or as normal as she could pretend to be. Someone that told them that the other supposed normal people of the world would care about what they faced every day. The heroes. They all needed her. Not just to hack a security feed. But to exist. To be nothing else but there.

But being wanted... That had been new.

It wasn't like her life held boundless joy these days. But, these last weeks, there had been a bright spot. There had been Oliver. It wasn't like he changed her entire life with just sex, but just having something to look forward to had been nice, pleasant, human. Sometimes, with him, she nearly felt like just any woman, not some half-alive being forced to see everything in ones and zeroes.

That was done now.

Even though he was on his way, impatiently tapping his foot according to the footage, he wasn't something she could have. He was only on his way up to argue more.

She had no one to blame but herself. She'd gone about things the way she had felt she had to at the time. And it was all wrong. But in the end, things had fallen where they needed to. Arguing was a waste of time and she'd tell him so and send him on his way.

Maybe she might attempt to work things out just a little more first. They did have to work together, after all.

She stood in front of the doors, stupidly smoothing her hair before she stopped herself. This was business. Smooth things over and be done with it.

The doors hissed open, revealing Oliver, fists clenched at his sides. "I hate that elevator."

"Well, it's necessary."

"Well, I feel violated," he said, stalking inward. "Do you have anything to drink?"

She turned to follow him. "Oliver, I hardly have furniture right now. So no. Now about the money..."

"I'm not even talking liquor. I'm thinking warm milk, tea, whatever they give you when you've been through a horrifying, violating..."

"Its not that bad," she cut in.

"It is that..."

"Listen, you have the money back," she interrupted, nearly yelling. "So there's no need to argue anymore and I... I didn't mean that to... come out like that," she finished stammering, moving back to her monitors, bracing her hands on the console. She'd meant that to come out smoother... in that smoothing-over kind of way. And also at some point when it was relevant.

But maybe this strange outburst was for the best. It could end this that much sooner. She took a deep breath and turned back to him. "Listen, there is no point fighting over this. It's over. You have your money and you also have my weapons, actually. So I have been sufficiently put in the corner."

"Oh, come on, Chloe..."

"No. I want this over. So I'm just going to trust that you'll disclose the location if it's necessary and leave it there." She nodded to herself, trying to be satisfied with that.

Yet he didn't seem satisfied, if the way he glared at her was any hint. "So that's it? Since I have the money, this all goes away. That's what you want?"

She groaned and turned away. "What I want is for the check to be there two weeks ago to replace the money so this wasn't an issue. But I can't have that."

"The money is not the point. The point is that you..."

"That I didn't trust you," she said, whirling on him. "And now you've pointed out why I should and maybe you have a point. So I'm sorry, Oliver, that I'm not omniscient. I don't know everything that can or might or should happen. I did what I thought I had to do at the time. I was under the gun and scared and, on a personal level, knew my life was at stake. Mine specifically, actually. So I didn't think it through and I know now that I went about it in the worst way possible. And maybe you should have known everything from the start. Hell, maybe Clark should..." She stopped, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Scratch that part." Not Clark. Not yet. He was too invested in changing Zod to entertain any contingency plan if Zod couldn't be changed. "Anyway, I know I f*cked up. These last two years, I've done nothing but f*ck up. But this has to be over now. There is too much at stake for us to waste time arguing." She quieted, breathing heavily.

He stared at her, for a little too long, before he finally spoke. "And that's how you want it? You want this to be over?"

She turned back to her monitors. "I just don't want to fight. Okay?"

"Fine." He drew closer in the refection. "Then say you're sorry."

"What?"

"See, when people do something they regret, they generally say they're sorry."

"I'm familiar with the concept," she said, turning slowly. "So that's what you drove all the way here for? For me to say I'm sorry?"

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "It's a start."

"Well... I'm not sorry I made the weapons." She sighed. "But you have to know I'm sorry I siphoned money from your company."

"Good."

"It wasn't how I wanted this to go. You have to know that..."

"No. Got it." He nodded. "And I'm sorry I accused you of sleeping with me for anything other than the pure joy of sleeping with me."

She nearly laughed as she turned away. "Nice way of putting it," she said, mollified and offended at once.

"I knew it was an ******* thing to say the minute I said it." She saw him move closer in the reflection on her screen. "It's just... it hasn't happened alot."

Her fingers stilled on the keyboard. "What?"

"Women that want me without... other ideas. You... Well you'd be one of a select few."

Have they seen you? "Well... it's fine," she finished, deciding to be mollified. "We both lashed out, I guess. There's a lot to lash out about and... You know, we can just strike these last few days from the record."

"Fine. Struck... or stricken."

"Good." She started to get back to her coding, waiting for him to say his goodbyes, when she noticed something else reflected in her screen. He was by her desk and... "What are you doing?"

She turned as he draped it over a crate near her desk. "I'm taking off my jacket."

"Okay." She turned back again. She didn't think he was going to stay. She'd thought they'd cleared the air by now, but if he wanted to hang around... "Why?" she asked, really wondering it. Then she saw... she could have sworn he saw him taking his shirt off. She turned around to find that did, in fact happen, then turned just as quickly away. "You took your shirt off."

"Yeah. I was figuring I'd go for pants next." He said, a laugh in his voice. "But I could wait. I mean, we've generally followed a pattern where you have been more naked than me sooner. I personally have no problem with that. So if you want to catch up, feel free to take your top off or really anything..." He trailed off.

She completely froze, hand poised over her keyboard. "We had a fight," she said dully.

"And?"

She didn't answer, thinking that was all that needed to be said. She started when he spoke again.

"Wait a minute... Do you think that means this is over?"

"Well.... I thought this was... I mean... the fight..."

"Yeah, but we made up. Well... mostly." He moved nearer. "So... you want this to be over?"

"I don't know," she moved away from the console and toward her desk, wringing her hands. "This isn't what I expected."

"What did you expect?

"Well, I figured we wouldn't be seeing a lot of each other for a while, with what happened and... Well, maybe some months down the line... if we were alive, I mean... Then we'd talk about it and... Maybe some time later, we might possibly maybe consider..."

"Wow. I think I get it now."

"Well, I guess somebody should," she said exasperrated, leaning against her desk. "What do you get?" Because she sure didn't get it. Whatever it was.

"You and Jimmy."

"What? This has nothing to do with..."

"Chloe, you guys broke up every other month."

"That's an exaggeration. We only broke up... Well, if you count the letter and that time I sided with Clark around Valentines Day and the time..."

"Let's not do the math. Fact is, you guys had this thing. You broke up, hardly spoke, got back together, broke up...."

"You know, it was not that simple. There were life and death situations and... Well, not that he knew it at the time. So really you can't blame him if he felt..."

"I'm not blaming him," Oliver cut in. "Blame isn't even a blip, here. Bottom line?" He moved nearer to her. "I'm not Jimmy. I'm not getting skittish because we had a disagreement."

"Oliver, this is more than a disagreement, considering what's at stake."

"It also has nothing to do with this," he said, gesturing between them.

She moved back to her console as he got closer. It was hard to argue with a shirtless man. "Actually, it does have quite a lot to do with this and nothing's actually been resolved and..."

"Fine. Nothing's resolved." He followed her there. "You're still a control freak and I'm still an assh*le," he said, placing a hand on either side of her. "But I think we can let that slide for a good twenty mmmmttts." The rest was bit garbled, mumbled against the back of her neck.

"Twenty?" She breathed, intrigued as his lips slid to her shoulder. Was this okay? They were still so unsure of each other. In a relationship... But that was just it. they weren't in a relationship. Maybe all the things she thought she knew didn't apply here.

"We can triple it with a little down time. If you want to," he said, before biting just a little where her neck and shoulder met before his lips slid upwards. "Since I want you to want to, my hand will most likely be sliding down your pants in the next fifteen seconds." His fingers danced along her waistline. "Unless you stop it."

"I'm thinking," she said absently.

"Only got ten seconds left to think," he said lowly, a finger sliding back forth just under her belly button. "I know how to turn off that mind of yours." Was his voice always this tempting or was it just that every word was against her ear? "Six... five... four..."

She spun around, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him down to her. She nipped at his lips as his fingers, having been displaced, slid downward to grip her hips. She twined her other arm around his neck, the better to get him on her level when she realized something was wrong. "Your hand is not in my pants," she whispered into his mouth.

He smiled against her lips. "I figured I had you convinced."

"So you just stop trying?" She sighed. "I need to stop being so easy."

"I'd never call you easy." He flicked her top button open and slipped his hand inside. "Better?"

"Almost," she breathed as he rubbed lightly over her panties.

"How 'bout now?" He pulled them aside and rubbed against her, where she was shamefully moist for a girl who wasn't expecting sex tonight.

"That's... Ummmhhhhh...."

He practically shoved her back against the console, then. Or he did, but not so hard as to knock it over. And she wasn't so far gone that she didn't have the presence of mind to push him away... and not really away. As his hand was still trapped in her pants, she tripped after him as the console wobbled behind them.

"Just got Watchtower back together," she panted as his hand moved on reflex against her. "Let's try not to destroy it, okay?"

"Fine. Couch." He pulled her up against him and his fingers moved in earnest as his lips traced her jaw.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his other hand lifted her and her feet left the floor. There was something about feeling weak and dainty that just did it for her. She'd never felt that except with Cla... She'd never felt that in sexual situations, she amended mentally. As much as she tried not to bring Jimmy into this, he was her only sexual experience and, considering she could beat him in arm-wrestling no matter how many times he'd demanded a rematch, he'd never made her feel dainty. That niggling bit of guilt made its way in again and she told herself again that it wasn't about the sex. When you loved someone it wasn't supposed to be... "Oh, God!" ...like this. Whatever this was, it was necessary. She needed this. For as long as she could have it. And on that note.. She pushed Oliver away in earnest now and his hand sort of snapped out of her pants as she rebounded. "We need to talk."

"Can we skip it?" His mouth was slack as he lunged at her.

She moved quickly to the side. "I mean, about us... this. If we want to go on..."

"I think we want to." He came at her again.

And she sidestepped again as he caught himself against the desk. "Well, it's been over a week."

"And that's exactly why we don't need to talk right now," he said impatiently, leaning against the desk.

She planted herself on the other side and faced him. "No. We need to talk about why we haven't. That and... maybe undress."

He seemed ready to jump right over, then her words seemed to sink in. "You always were a multi-tasker." He leaned forward, nodding at her. "I'm ahead. So..."

She started unbuttoning her blouse. "I thought you were avoiding me."

"And I thought you were avoiding me."

"And that's exactly the kind of misunderstanding that takes all the fun out of this. You got paranoid..."

"With good reason."

She tossed her blouse over the chair and sighed. "Fair enough. Shoes?" She slipped her own off. "Anyway, I got insecure..."

"For no reason," he said as his shoes hit the floor. "Are you taking that bra off or am I?"

She rolled her eyes and twisted her hands to her back. "I had a very good reason, considering you weren't showing up. And then you did and you definitely weren't in the mood, so..."

"I was pissed. Doesn't mean I wasn't..."

"Also, my entire history is a reason in itself and..."

"And your entire history can be rehashed and over-analyzed later. Jesus, Chloe. We've already talked about this. I want you, for crying out..."

"I get that. But I think we need to clear up a few things. Pants?" She tossed her bra away and, though he seemed poised to leap the desk, he stayed on his side, hands working at his top button before he stilled.

"You know what? Okay. Let's clear things up. My turn." He dug in his pocket and tossed a folded envelope across the desk. "I don't want it."

She groaned and pushed it back toward him. "I'm only replacing what I took."

He pushed it back. "And if you'd come to me, I would have funded this myself."

She pushed it back again, nearly shoving it at him. "But this was my project and it should come out of my pocket."

"You don't even have a pocket." He slapped a hand on it. "And I've moved the weapons, so they're basically in my possession, so..." He stilled in the middle of pushing it back to her. "What is this? We're half-naked and playing air hockey, here." She nearly laughed before he straightened and picked up the envelope, ripping it into several pieces.

She moved around the desk as they fluttered to the floor. "Oliver..."

He stepped in front of her. "Chloe, you spending money you don't have when I have the money is ridiculous, world ending or not. And since we're aiming for not, I don't think anyone wants this place poised to be repossessed or to see you waitressing graveyard at the Met Stop to pay the mortgage... Though you would look cute in that pink and white..."

"Oliver, be serious."

"I am serious. Even about the uniform." He took her by the chin. "As for the rest of it, why don't we save ourselves from all future misunderstandings and assume I'm always in the mood." He tilted her chin to one side and lowered his lips to her neck.

"That would save time." Her eyes fluttered shut. "And I suppose you have a point."

"About the uniform?" He lifted her onto the desk and bit lightly at her shoulder. "I think it's high time you had one for this job. I'm thinking something in the waitress family, but shorter, tighter, and with an eyepatch just for flavor."

She chuckled and squirmed backward. "I meant about the mortgage. I mean, maybe we can all get through this. Maybe the world won't end. When you think about it, in that other future, we only had the weapons after the Kandorians already..."

"Really?" He sighed and leaned over her. "You want to discuss all possible universes now?"

"Well, not discuss. I'm only pointing out that we're ahead of the..."

"That's it." He tackled her down and grabbed at her slacks, pulling them off quickly. "You don't get these back until you learn to talk later," he said, tossing them over his shoulder.

She leaned up on her elbows. "Okay."

"That's it? You sure you don't want to discuss the repercussions of experiencing a parallel universe in... Mmmm."

She slid her palm against him and shut her lips tight before sitting up, pulling his zipper down and slipping her hand into his jockey shorts before meeting his eyes.

"I like this side of you," he said on a breath as she gripped him.

She sneered against his lips as she met them. She'd have stopped everything on principle if she didn't need to touch him so badly.

Thankfully, he shut up, shuddering under her hands. "Missed you," he said after a moment.

She knew the feeling. She'd missed him, missed this, missed feeling desired, desireable. And it went without saying that the body currently at her mercy was a thing of pure, imperfect beauty.

Imperfect. That was the key, here. That was the thing that made him irresistible to her since that first night. He had to work at it. Every plane and ridge on Oliver Queen's body had been worked, whether with free weights or with nights spent chasing down the criminal element. All of this had been crafted and now... it was under her hands, a slave to her. All that work and she, in a sense, commanded it.

And that wasn't the only imperfection. He had scars, twisted mottled scars that you only saw if you looked as closely as she was allowed to. There was something about being this close that made her feel she knew him. She brushed her lips over one faded, whitened scrap of damaged skin just under his collarbone as he grunted and tangled his hands in her hair. Not everyone saw this side of Oliver Queen. Barely any were allowed, she imagined. Maybe, she liked to imagine, no one else. Maybe she was just that special.

Her mind, so desperate to stop anything nearing self-worship, quickly supplied Lois and Tess. They'd been this close to him. They'd seen the scars he so readily hid. But maybe they hadn't. They'd been involved with him at a time when what he was, what he truly was underneath the playboy billionaire, was hidden. Maybe they hadn't looked close enough. If they had, maybe either of them would still be here. Who could leave a man that needed so damned much?

Even thinking it scared her. Because she'd have to leave him, at some point. This was bound to end and... and she knew right then that she couldn't be the one to do it. He would. As much as that should scare her, waiting for that axe to drop, it was a relief. He'd end this. He'd stop needing whatever it was she gave him. Maybe, by then, she wouldn't need whatever this was.

As of now, however, there was nothing but need... in the way her breath stopped as he pressed her onto her back... in the way his hands shook just a little as they slid into her panties.

She was writhing under him in seconds. He grunted and started to mouth his way down her stomach when he stopped. "You know, I don't want to be a selfish pig, but..." Her hips lifted involuntarily and he grunted again, head falling to her chest. "I can't wait, Chloe. I seriously..."

"Then don't," she moaned, sitting up, trying to get those pants off him. As much as she appreciated Oliver's seemingly boundless generosity with foreplay, she'd been waiting more than a week by now. The anticipation itself was foreplay, so much so she was nearly whimpering when he pulled away. "Ollie..."

"Condom," he said through his teeth. "They're just in my jacket. Don't mo..."

"I got it," she panted, flipping over and pulling herself to the other edge of the desk, roughly yanking his jacket from the empty crate he'd draped it on. The force of it nearly sent the box in the pocket to the floor, but she caught it, chuckling to herself at the size of it. "Economy size? Somebody was a little too confid... Oh!"

He tugged her ankle and she slid backwards on her blotter. It nearly hit the floor just as her feet did.

He must have made quick work of what was left of his clothes. She felt nothing but skin pitching up against her as he pushed up against her hips and bent over her.

"Don't think we're making it to the couch," he rasped as his hand slid up her arm and grabbed the box.

"We rarely have," she said as she heard the sound of ripping and crinkling behind her and she moaned. It was funny how, even sounds like that, seemingly commonplace, made her crazy now. This week, she'd found herself flushing at the sound of her own zipper, shuddering when her bed groaned as she lay down. After years thinking sex was nothing special, she was certainly hard-up for it now. Reminders were everywhere. She heard the box and the other condoms hit the floor and shivered. "Ollie, hurry." She pushed back against him. "Want you so much."

"F*ck," he groaned, hands sliding over her hips and ass. "Did I mention I like this side of you, too?"

"Only a lot," she said on a laugh, resting her head against a post-it reminder her to give the rest of the team their codes. She'd have to get on that. And he'd have to get going. "Get going," she reminded him.

"Pushy," he said, finally slipping inside her just a little. They both let out a wet gasp when he slid home. "God, you feel..."

"No. You do," she said, jerking backwards.

"No. You have... no idea how good you feel... F*ck, Chloe!"

She shook hard underneath him. Even knowing that it was just the sex talking, it made her body flush all over and her pulse race. It made her feel alluring and sexy that, just in this moment, she could make him feel everything she did. It wasn't just every delicious bit of him that made her want this, it was how he made her feel about herself. She felt desired, desirable. It was silly, but in those fragmented moments, she could believe she was everything that was tempting in every woman since Eve tossed off her fig leaves.

She liked to chase that feeling, close off everything else. It was easy when they were like this, when he was inside her, panting over her, sliding his hands greedily over every bit of skin in his reach. And when he really started moving... that was when everything went away.

Like now.

He was pushing inside her now and, with this time away, with this uncertainty these last few days, just the sheer relief of it had that feeling in her grasp. She felt good. He felt good. He made her feel good. And good didn't even come close to covering it. She was thinking she might not last long. She was positive of it when he bent over her, making shallow dips inside her, but at an angle that had her body humming.

She found herself moaning and felt his lips touch her shoulder..

"That good?" he whispered against her.

"So... so..." She really couldn't find a word. For a girl who'd always had an inordinate fondness of words, this seemed inexcusable. But she didn't mind. He didn't seem to either.

"Then come for me," he rasped as she felt the gentlest scrape of his teeth against her skin.

Her body obeyed without question. Whatever other issues they had, their bodies had developed a strange rapport these last weeks. She let out a ragged gasp and collapsed against the desk as he twitched inside her. She lay there, sated and drowsy, waiting for him to collapse on top of her.

But he didn't. He gripped her by the shoulder and began moving again, breath stirring her hair in staccato pants. She opened one eye and attempted to move.

He flattened a hand on her back. "I'm not done with you."

She got that much, as he wasn't finished, but she wanted to help. She tried to move again, but he folded himself over her, sliding one hand between her and the desk beneath her, fingers fluttering against her clit.

She nearly laughed. "Oliver, you don't have to..."

"Don't think I can?"

He sounded strangely intense and she stifled her laugh, wondering what he was trying to prove even as her body quickened.

She already knew she had it damned good. This would be, she realized, the first time she didn't have two orgasms to his one if he'd just let it be.

"Oliver, it's okay," she said, not meaning it quite as much now and possibly making a liar out of herself as she reached back and grasped his dampened thigh, not exactly telling him to stop.

His fingers bit into her waist as his other hand worked at her clit with nearly vicious speed. "That good enough?"

She gasped, trying to figure out what this was, but too damned close to coming to have actual ideas.

"When is it good enough, Chloe?"

She couldn't answer. She could only draw back her own arms and sob into them as her eyes welled up. This wasn't some soft, sweet second coming. There was something in this that was nearly painful. Her body didn't feel soft and languid, here. She felt it tightening in every possible way. Starting from the place he circled with his fingers and shooting out. Her limbs felt heavy and packed even as they jerked helplessly beneath her and she felt tears squeezing form the corners of her eyes. No reason. They just seemed to be there. As if her body was too overwhelmed to know what to feel.

Between his c*ck inside and his fingers circling her clit and his lips and just a little of his teeth at the dip of her shoulder, she came apart, crying out hoarsely into her arms. She dimly registered his hips slowing, his lips growing slack against her, and his hand growing still beneath her. When she regained all senses, she felt him jolting sort of sloppily against her before collapsing on her back.

"So..." She gulped in a breath, which seemed nearly impossible, both because of the sex and because of the heavy man sprawled over her. "What was that about?" she finished, panting again.

She felt him huff into her hair. "Can we not talk right now?"

"Fine." She waited. Or tried to. "It's just you said 'When is it good enough?' and I thought we'd dealt with me keeping you in the dark. I said I was mistaken and..."

"Considering our problems aren't exactly old news, maybe you should let me deal without talking it to death." He lifted just a little off her. "We don't have to bring it into this."

"Don't do that," she said, trying to turn under him. "You talk just as much as I do. Maybe even more, at times and..."

"And yet I don't feel this strange need to do so just after sex. Afterglow, Chloe. It's a thing that happens when you actually enjoy sex and don't over-analyze it to the point of..."

"I never said I didn't enjoy it. You know I do. And if anyone is bringing our problems into the sex, it's you. You don't have to give me multiple orgasms to prove something. You don't have to give me multiple orgasms at all."

"Fine," he grunted, pulling up more. "I'll stop immediately."

She gripped his arm. "I'm not saying I don't love it. I mean, I was almost sure they were a myth before this, but..."

"Hey, you have the ability to have multiple orgasms." He breathed in deeply against her neck. "If it were the other way around, I'm sure you'd return the favor. Besides, maybe I just find you that hot. Just can't stop," he said, sliding a finger up and down her hip.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what?" he breathed against her.

"Butter me up. I'm already there, you know."

"Oh, Christ," he groaned, slipping out of her, a hand planted on the desk beside her as he straightened. "Not this again."

"What?" she asked, pushing herself up, noting his slightly unsteady walk as he moved to the wastebasket. She wasn't much better off. She had to brace herself hard against the desk just to stand.

"Every time I tell you I'm attracted to you, you act like it's forbidden." She heard the dull plop of the condom before he turned. "Do think we're f*cking because I find you hideous?"

She sighed and tried to steady her legs as she moved to the couch. "Do you always have to take things to the extreme?" She nearly fell on the couch. "I'm just saying you don't have to give me flowery words or..."

"When was I flowery?" He rolled his eyes and moved toward the couch. "I only implied you were hot. But fine. No more of that."

"Ollie..."

"You heinous troll. You disgust me."

"Okay. You made your..."

He bent over her and swiped the blanket from the back of the couch. "Please stop offending my eyes and cover yourself."

She gasped as he smothered her in the blanket. "Hey..."

He flattened himself over her. "I can only have sex with you three or four more times tonight. You are that disgusting to me."

She managed to get her head out. "Now you're just being ridiculous."

"Well, so were you." He leaned down, bumping his nose against hers. "So stop it."

She smiled, as hard as she tried not to. "Stopping it."

"Good." He moved, adjusting them until they both fit and pulling the blanket from between them. "Maybe it's too hard here," he said, settling the blanket over them.

"What? Sex? We do now have built-in intruder alerts and..."

"I mean, separating things. How do you relax in here?" He stretched behind her. "Maybe... a vacation?"

She sat up and turned to him. "You want to go away?"

He grinned and leaned up on an elbow. "Everyone deserves a vacation."

She turned away just a little, wondering if she was that much work. "I guess we can spare you. I could get a few of the others to pull a little extra time. Maybe keep Bart on stand-by. He can be anywhere in minutes. I'll probably have to hold his hand the whole time as he says he can't figure out G.P.S. and..."

"And in case you're missing it," he said, pulling her down and moving over her, "I mean us. You and me."

"You want to... take a vacation together?"

"Hmmm." He leaned down, nuzzling at her shoulder. "Can you imagine it? No fear of anyone walking in. No debriefings for you. No briefs for me. We could walk around naked and only order roomservice for a week."

"Not a week," she said, warming up to it, all the same.

"Five Days."

"Two."

"Four."

"Three," she said, sliding a calf over his hip.

"Deal," he said too quickly.

"I guess I can manage it," she said, now thinking she should have held out for two. "But what if..."

"I'm thinking champagne, exotic fruit baskets, five star pampering with all..."

"With people that would recognize you the minute you entered the lobby and and paparazzi snapping that anonymous blonde and then then tabloids full of..."

He sighed and leaned his head on hers. "You sure know how to ruin a vacation."

"Not true." She sat up, strangely excited. "I know how to plan one."

He sat up as well, snorting just a little. "Since when?"

"Who knows better how to fly under the radar than I do?" She threw a leg over him and sat up. "Give me time. I will find us the perfect weekend get-away."

"Three-day weekend get-away."

She leaned her head back as he slid his lips up and down her neck. "Deal."

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CHAPTER FOUR