Fandom/Genre:Smallville AU/ Romance, Angst, Slash
Word Count: 3k words
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the show
Summary: Clark Kent is a journalist, Oliver Queen is the heir to Queens Industries, they couldn't be any more different but they meet at a ball Oliver's parents throw in their mannor and Oliver falls in love.
Author's notes: This is for kimisgirl as part of the svgiftxchange I'm sorry this is a little bit late (but it's still the 25th in some places, right?). I hope you like reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Merry Christmas !
There he was again tonight, forcing laughter and faking smiles in the same old tired lonely place he’s grown up in. His parents like organizing those parties meant to be like medieval balls, where he's supposed to meet his future spouse. Of course, none of the suitors hold much of Oliver's interest, as they are all boring and shallow, self satisfied by their own wealth. He watches the scene from the doorway between the ballroom and the corridor leading to the kitchen, watches people having the time of their lives on the dance floor, watches the musicians play classical music he had to learn all about in his youth and notices the many persons eyeing him hungrily.
He can’t remember the last time he was attracted to someone. It’s like forgetting the words to your favorite songs, you can’t believe it because you were always singing along and yet it’s happening to you. Sooner or later, vanity shows up and ruins every single person he might happen to find actually decent and he’s on the verge of giving up on love—if such a thing exists to begin with.
“Ollie, sweetie, are you not feeling well?” Oliver turns to the sound of his mother’s voice, working up a smile to greet her. She worries about him being lonely but doesn’t understand that Oliver would rather be lonely than in bad company. So many people are out to get a slice of their family’s empire, not to mention all the conspiracies involving Oliver.
“I’m fine, mom,” he says and presses a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll just go out and get some fresh air, all right?”
Oliver walks his way through the crowd in the room, putting down his glass of champagne on a tray as a waiter passes by, until he reaches the glass doors opening to the gardens, making sure to avoid any guest who might want to get hold of him. Once outside in the patio, he undoes the knot of his tie and breathes in the cool air, relaxing as the tension that’s been building up all night long releases from his shoulders. He loves this part of the residence, the marble paved patio is elevated, delimited by white rock railings and large double stairs descend down to the vast gardens his parents keep as well maintained as the Gardens of Versailles—it’s not as vast nor as beautiful if you ask Oliver, but it’s still beautiful enough.
As his feet taps on the marble floor, he sees a silhouette in the dark, a man leaning on the railings, back facing Oliver. He must have made himself audible because the man turns around to face him, and in the dim moonlight, what Oliver sees first of the man’s visage are his bright eyes. He can’t tell what color they are; they could be blue, grey or green, but for sure they whisper ‘Have we met?’ and Oliver finds himself wondering.
The man starts to make his way to him, not quite as confident as Oliver would have thought him to be and as they get closer, he realizes how young the other man actually looks. Up close, his eyes are just stunning and every pair of eyes he might have thought beautiful before pales in comparison to this man’s. They’re green and mesmerizing, they make Oliver feel secluded, trapped in another world where it’s just the two of them. The man is gorgeous, the cheap suit he’s wearing makes him look good somehow and Oliver can tell that hiding behind those layers there is a strong built body. But mostly, Oliver is drawn by the man’s visage, his clean-shaven and strong jaw, slicked back brown hair and fine lips Oliver wants to kiss badly and those damn eyes. He doesn’t know how long he stares but he’s brought out of his haze abruptly.
“Uh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to be here?” the man asks, looking sheepish.
“No, no worries, there’s no restricted area in this residence,” Oliver smiles despite himself, and adds as an afterthought, “None that I know of at least.”
“I’m Clark Kent,” the man offers his hand, which Oliver finds himself eagerly shaking and to his surprise, it’s warm despite the low temperature outside. If it weren’t for his three-piece suit, Oliver would be freezing for sure. The name Kent doesn’t ring any bell and Oliver is pretty sure he knows every influent family names there are in both the business and political world.
“Nice to meet you, Clark,” Oliver says and the sentiment of glee he has been feeling up until now begins to fade as he remembers that he isn’t just anyone. He is Oliver Queen, future CEO of Queens Industries, which is practically royalty at this point, considering all the influence and money his parents have managed to obtain over the years. He hopes this encounter doesn’t turn out to be another vain attempt at seducing him.
“It would be even nicer if you told me your name,” Clark says with an amused tone, not letting go of Oliver’s hand. Oliver’s pretty sure Clark’s flirting with him, if the way Clark is eyeing him is any indication.
“I trust you already know my name,” Oliver replies suspiciously, eyes fixed on Clark’s in defiance, looking for the truth in those eyes.
“I’m afraid I don’t,” Clark says with such a genuine tone Oliver finds it difficult not to believe him. So he’s got two possibilities here: either Clark’s playing the stranger-who-doesn’t-know-he’s-famous card to charm him—which almost worked once, and he really doesn’t want to go down that road again—or Clark actually doesn’t know who he is. Assuming it’s the latter, two other possibilities present themselves: Clark either just can’t put Oliver’s name on his face or he doesn’t know Oliver Queen at all, in which case Clark must be an alien. He doesn’t know which one of these possibilities is worse and decides he should stick with his real name since using a fake name hasn’t worked for him in the past.
“Oliver Queen,” he says dreadfully and Clark takes his hand back abruptly, as though he just got burned, leaving Oliver’s cold and missing Clark’s warm palm. That was unexpected.
“Oh,” Clark says, looking baffled and…blushing. Huh. So Clark isn’t entirely ignorant and knows who he is. Or at least, knows the name. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“What do you mean?” Oliver asks tentatively, having a pretty good idea in mind.
“You’re…I mean, I saw you in the ballroom but I never thought you’d be…” Clark trails off, his blush becoming apparent now. Oliver gets it. He’s not oblivious of his own good looks, has known for a long time people are not immune to his charm. “Uh, am I even allowed to talk to you? Where are your bodyguards?”
“Right behind us, hidden in the dark, ready to strike at any moment,” Oliver intends to say it as a joke, but knowing his parents, it’s probably true. Snipers are most likely perched like gargoyles on the roof of their manor. He leans on the railings beside Clark, watching the lit fountains sparkle in the middle of perfectly sculpted bushes. “Don’t worry; they won’t do anything unless I tell them to.”
“That’s reassuring,” Clark says wryly, causing Oliver to chuckle. “So, um, I’ll leave you alone then, it was nice meeting you Mr. Queen.”
“Don’t think you’re getting away that easy,” Oliver says, intrigued. This is the first time anyone’s ever tried to avoid him. He knows Clark’s interested in him, has seen it clearly in his eyes. “And please, call me Oliver. I’m a human being too you know, just because I’m insanely rich doesn’t mean I don’t socialize.”
“So what are you doing out here then, Oliver? Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party inside?” Clark remarks wittily, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t feel at ease during those parties my parents keep throwing,” Oliver answers truthfully, something he usually avoids so as to not tarnish his image or his parents’ but he can’t help himself. “It’s like swimming in a shark infested pool.”
“No kidding,” Clark says and heaves a sigh. There’s something about Clark that makes him relax and lose the tension he keeps built up in his shoulders, the anxiety and suspicion he felt earlier as they introduced themselves are gone and Oliver feels as though he can breathe at full capacity. He feels comfortable, talking to Clark. He feels like they’re equals.
“What about you?” Oliver asks curiously.
“I don’t fit in at all, I just had to get out of there,” Clark replies matter-of-factly. “I don’t even know what I was thinking, coming here.”
“What do you do for a living by the way, Clark? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m a journalist, just started a few months ago,” Clark answers and flashes him a quick smile. “You’re probably wondering what a nobody like me is doing here, huh?”
“Actually, yeah,” Oliver says and hurries to add, “No offense, but my parents are usually picky when it comes to guests.”
“Yeah, I know,” Clark says reassuringly. “Actually, I’m here with my grandfather, William Clark.”
Oh. William Clark is their family lawyer, a force to be reckoned with and a close friend they meet regularly, so Oliver’s surprised he didn’t know William had a grandson. Come to think of it, William doesn’t talk much about his family, Oliver just knows he has a daughter who left years ago, but that’s about it.
“I had no idea William had a grandson,” Oliver says, fishing for some details.
“My parents aren’t exactly in good terms with him, he’d never even heard of my existence until a couple years ago,” Clark explains. “I’m from a small town in Kansas, grew up in a farm and when I moved to the city I was completely lost and he found me, decided to take care of me, considering his social status, which I’m grateful for in the end because I wouldn’t have gotten a job without his help. And somehow I ended up here, spilling my boring life story to a billionaire.”
That’s a lot of information to process in a few seconds but it makes sense. In a world where elitism is omnipresent, having good contacts is essential to make it, no matter what your job is.
“It’s fine, I’m glad you did,” Oliver says, grinning despite himself at Clark’s rant. “I would’ve gone crazy had I stayed in there any longer, and you’re decent company enough.”
“Geez, thanks,” Clark chuckles, puffs of breath fading in the cold air. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Part of my charm,” Oliver banters easily, catching Clark’s playful gaze. “Where do you fit in then, Clark? If pretentious socialites’ parties aren’t your thing, what is?”
“I’m more of a stay in kind of guy, you know, growing up in a farm isn’t all that exciting so I’m used to the quiet and I like it,” Clark admits shyly and Oliver finds himself praying ‘Please don’t be in love with someone else’, which is ridiculous because he barely knows the guy and sure, he looks like a model and is a stay in kind of guy but that doesn’t justify falling in love with him in five seconds. Except that in Oliver’s book, it does. It’s all Oliver’s ever wanted in someone.
“I do too,” Oliver says and realizes their faces are inching closer as they speak. It’s beyond his control, he’s wanted to do it the moment he laid eyes on Clark, so Oliver takes the initiative and captures Clark’s lips, the kiss starting softer than he intended but ending up much better than he expected.
Clark breaks off the kiss abruptly, holding Oliver’s face back, staring at him with wide eyes.
“God, I’m so sorry, I should go,” Clark says hurriedly but Oliver catches his hand before he can escape.
“Hold on, Clark,” Oliver says, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he wonders if Clark’s freaking out about kissing a man or just kissing Oliver period. “What are you apologizing for?”
“I shouldn’t be with you, much less kissing you,” Clark’s voice breaks, his eyes pleading with guilt for Oliver to let him go, which Oliver does eventually. “Good bye, Mr. Queen, it was a pleasure to meet you.”
That it was, Oliver thinks as he watches Clark’s figure walking away, back into the building, leaving Oliver alone to his own twirling thoughts that come down to ‘Please don’t have somebody waiting on you’. Oliver is basically praying that this first meeting was the very first page of his story with Clark and not where it ends.
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Oliver stays up all night wondering about Clark. Was he having a gay freak out? Was he cheating on someone by kissing Oliver? By morning, all Oliver knows is that he wants Clark, wants him like he’s never wanted anyone before in his life.
Angsting over thing has never been a good look on Oliver so he decides to take actions instead. He finds out where Clark lives rather easily and plans to go ask him out after work. He goes there completely defenseless and by the time he reaches Clark’s apartment door, a lump has formed in his throat and his palms are sweaty. He knocks a couple times and waits awfully long before someone answers, only making his anxiety grow even more.
“Oh my God.”
Oliver finds himself face to face with a cute blonde lady staring at him in shock only to recover quickly and offer her hand at him. His heart speeds up as he checks the address. He’s not wrong, this is Clark’s apartment; he can see a picture in the hallway over the girl’s shoulder, a picture of Clark and what seem to be his parents. He flicks his gaze immediately to her left hand and finds with relief that there’s no ring. Neither Clark’s wife nor fiancée, then.
“Hello Mr. Queen, it’s um, it’s an honor to meet you,” she says, smiling nervously.
“Likewise, miss…?” Oliver trails off, curious to know who this lady is.
“Sullivan, I’m Chloe Sullivan,” Chloe replies, sounding more at ease. “Please, come on in, can I serve you something to drink?”
“I’m good, thank you,” So this Chloe apparently lives here with him, he sees graduation pictures of her with Clark, looking absolutely happy. He follows her into the living room and gives her his trench coat, hoping Clark is home. Once in the living room, he takes in the different pieces of furniture: a couch, couple armchairs, a TV, coffee table, the usual. It’s a nice apartment, Oliver concludes, it feels homey. He can draw some conclusions from that, some of which are not very pleasant and involve Clark being with Chloe.
“What brings you here, Mr. Queen?” Chloe asks as she sits on the couch, gesturing at Oliver to do as well. “Not that I’m not glad to have you.”
“I’m looking for Clark but I take it he’s not here?” Oliver asks as he sees no Clark in sight.
“He’s running late because of traffic,” Chloe replies, looking at him funnily. “You’ve come all the way to see Clark?”
“Yes,” Oliver says uneasily, knowing he came here to ask Clark out, if Chloe’s his girlfriend he would look like a jerk. He needs to know. “Are you and Clark dating?”
“What? No, Clark’s like a brother to me.” Chloe giggles slightly and then looks at him with wide eyes. “Oh my God, you were going to ask him out, weren’t you?”
Before Oliver can come up with a response, they hear a loud bam followed by a ‘Ouch, damn it!’
“Clark?” Chloe looks around and Oliver follows her gaze, his eyes falling upon Clark’s retreating silhouette by the door. Clark’s still wearing his coat and his face is contorted in pain as he massages his foot.
“I forgot something at work, I was just leaving,” Clark says and closes the door behind him as he leaves, urging Oliver to follow after him. He grabs his coat and thanks Chloe for the hospitality before catching up with Clark in the stairs leading down to the exit of the building.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Oliver demands as he grabs Clark’s forearm, stopping him in his tracks.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Oliver prompts, because if Clark is, this would solve all their problems. Well, not exactly, Oliver would be crushed to hear that, but at least Clark wouldn’t have to deal with him if this makes him that uncomfortable.
“No,” Clark replies, turning his head sideways to escape Oliver’s gaze.
“Then go out with me,” Oliver says with a softer tone.
“No,” Clark’s answer is low, barely a whisper but Oliver hears it nonetheless and his heart constricts painfully at the rejection. Clark pushes his hand away and for a brief moment their eyes meet, revealing what Clark won’t tell willingly. Oliver sees longing in those green eyes and this sparks off a speck of hope in him.
“What’s bothering you, Clark?” Oliver asks, standing awkwardly in front of the other man on a flight of stairs where anyone could hear them. “Why don’t you give me a chance? Why don’t you give us a chance?”
“Because there should be no ‘us’, Oliver,” Clark speaks up, looking torn apart. “Look, I already like you more than is reasonable, considering the short amount of time we’ve known each other and actually talked. And I shouldn’t, I mean, we come from worlds so different that it just wouldn’t work—for God’s sake, Oliver, your family basically runs the entire country and I’m just a low ranked journalist!”
“I don’t care about that, Clark,” Oliver says, his throat suddenly drying up drastically. Their nonexistent relationship already looks doomed before it could even come to life, and the issues Clark brings up are serious and actually make sense. But they’re not enough to repulse Oliver, if anything, it makes him want Clark even more.
“I’m certain you don’t but I—”
Oliver stops Clark midsentence, crushing their lips together and pinning Clark’s body against the wall with his own, arranging his feet as best as he can on two different steps and he kisses Clark as though his life depends on it. He puts in everything he’s got, trying to get his point across with this one kiss that shatters his world.
“Please, Clark,” Oliver whispers when they pull away, his lips still grazing Clark’s. “Give us a chance.”
“Okay,” Clark nods slowly, to Oliver’s relief who kisses him once more.
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A year later.
Clark comes home late because of the snow and finds the apartment drowned in the dark, save for a dim light coming from the bedroom. He hurries to get rid of his snow dusted coat and boots, reveling in the warmth of the apartment as he pads quickly to the bedroom.
The TV’s on, displaying the local news talking about the weather as if no one had noticed that yes, there is a shitload of snow and it is a pain in the ass. He finds his husband dozing off in bed and smiles, sitting beside him to run his fingers through short golden locks of hair. Clark presses a kiss to his head and lies down with Oliver, putting his arms around him securely to warm up.
“You’re late,” Oliver mumbles sleepily. “And you’re cold.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Clark says giving a quick peck on Oliver’s lips. “But I’m home now and I intend to stay in bed forever with you and do all sorts of things but first I’d like to sleep, that okay with you?”
“No complaints here,” Oliver grins, eyes shut and goes back to sleep, entangling their legs together before doing so.
Clark puts the covers over them and turns the TV off before falling asleep as well.
Life is good.