Before Sunset (Part Seventeen)

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Chloe laid her head back against the bed, thinking hard. And thinking was definitely getting harder. "If I had to..."

"You have to," Clark said, absently stroking the bear's head.

She giggled to herself as she watched him. They'd decided to camp out on Ernest and keep their feet to the fire. It was warmer that way as they both agreed the vodka was doing nothing to keep their feet warm. But she felt warm all over now. "Okay. Um...." She giggled again. "No. I can't." 

"You have to pick one or... Uh..." Clark frowned and stopped petting Ernest. "I forget what the thing was."

"The thing?" She giggled again. She had to. Everything was funnier. Even thing. Thing was a funny word. "Thing," she repeated with a snort.

"The thing you do if you don't pick. The..."

"Alternative," she supplied. "Alllterrrnativvvve," she repeated, drawing it out. It was a good word. But it wasn't the point. "The alternative is being forced to watch your parents have sex," she said, regretting that she'd said it. It brought forth images. Not of her mom. She barely remembered her. But to imagine her dad's orgasm face... She shuddered. "Okay. I pick love slave to Lionel Luthor."

"Love slave forever," Clark pointed out.

"Yeah. Fine." The idea had a strange, though creepy appeal. For an older guy, he was kind of...

"Ew." Clark grimaced. "But you'd only have to eat Sheriff Adam's crap once."

Chloe shrugged. "I'm just that opposed to eating crap." She giggled again. "Opposed. Oppooooossssed." That was another good one. "Anyway, your turn."

"Wait a second." Clark got up, only stumbling once. "I gotta pee."

"No." She grabbed his hand. "You can't do it."

"What?" 

She tried to pull him back down. "This is important," she whispered. "You aren't supposed to break the seal."

"The... Huh?"

"Lois told me about the seal. If you break the seal, you're screwed."

"What's the seal?" he whispered back.

"It's..." She hadn't actually thought of that. "I don't know what it is, but I think it means not to pee."

"I'll take my chances," he said, pulling away and grabbing the lantern.

"Okaaaay," she said slowly. That wasn't such a good word. It was so... boring. She stared into her empty can by the dim light of the stove. It had once held green beans. Then it held vodka and prune juice. Now it held nothing and that was just wrong. "Barkeep!" 

"I have a name," Clark called from the bathroom, followed by a flush.

"Don't be insolent." She stood from the ugly bear rug... with some effort. "I require libation and you are duty-bound to serve me." Or he said he'd bartend since she cooked. But it was basically the same thing.

"Hold on. I'm trying to see if we have a window with icicles left."

"Well, be quick about it, you... insolent pup." She giggled.

"You already said insolent," he called. 

"Well, I like that word." She moved away from the stove. It was too damn warm now. "And impudent. And indolent and imminent and immmpartial." She giggled again. "Words are funny." She plopped onto the bed.

He came out, holding a tiny spear of ice. "Yeah. You're really getting a kick out of yourself." He put the lantern down and bent to pick up his can.

"I am." She giggled again. It was just a giggling kind of night.

"You feel warm now?" He jabbed into his can with the screwdriver. There was the crunch of metal and ice. The ice had been her idea. Vodka and prune juice was kind of disgusting when lukewarm. The colder it was, the less disgusting it tasted.

"Mmmm. Definitely. Indubitably. I do indeed, good sir."

He put his can down and moved to her. "Gimme your can."

She stood and held it up with a flourish. "My goblet, kind sir." Maybe too big of a flourish, because she found herself pitching forward.

He caught her, chuckling. "You're wasted."

"Nuh-uh." She rolled her eyes as he set her on her feet. "I mean... Okay. Maybe a little. But so are you."

"No, I'm not. I'm like the opposite of wasted. I'm..." He stopped, thinking hard. "Wha's that word for when you're, like, not drunk?"

"Sober," she supplied, shaking her head. "Kind of a boring word. Is there a better one for that thing you say you are?"

"I am that thing."

She slapped at his shoulder with her free hand. "You are not. You had just as much to drink as me."

He grabbed her hand. "Yes, I did, but I can't..." He suddenly stiffened and took her can. "Yes. You got me. I am totally drunkened." He pulled away and squinted at her. "That sounded wrong."

"Because you're bombed," she whispered.

"No, I'm..." He cleared his throat and moved to the counter. "I mean... I am. Of course I am."

"Indeed you are, you reprehensible lush," she said loudly for emphasis. "Lushhhhh," she drew out. "I like that one. You infamous cur," she said even louder.

"So... Why are you in Ye Olde England?" he asked, pouring some juice into her vodka.

"You should be, too. It has the best words." She laid back on the bed again and sighed, closing her eyes. "I like words."

"You should. You're a writer and all." She heard a slight clinking. And then him. "Thinking about writing... I was wondering... Um..."

She opened her eyes. "What?"

He was perched on the bed over her, his eyes suddenly moved up to hers. "What? I wasn't looking."

She shook her head and leaned up on her elbows. "What were you wondering?"

"I was just gonna... ask... Uh..." His mouth went slack and his eyes left hers.

She followed their path and... "Not again." She quickly pulled the sheet over her breast.

"Yeah." He shot to a standing position, listing left until he grasped the headboard. Some of her drink plopped to the floor. "I was just trying tell you that."

"Wish you'd tried a little harder," she said, sitting up, trying to secure the stupid toga. This was the second time she'd flashed him now. How was she supposed to keep things normal between them when her boob kept falling out? 

"You shouldn't be all embarrassed. I've seen it before." His eyes drifted down again. "Kinda recently and all." Him looking didn't help, either.

She stood, crossing her arms over her chest. "I thought we were forgetting that." 

"No. You were," Clark said, turning away. "But I..." He suddenly laughed and turned back. "I am, too. I just forgot I was forgetting for a sec. So... Yeah."

She narrowed her eyes. There was something about him tonight, something sneaky. "What's with you?"

"Me? Nothing. I'm good. You want this?" He held out the can.

She took it, narrowing her eyes. "You're being weird."

"Well, I'm drunk. You just never seen me drunk." He frowned at the floor. "I just never seen me drunk."

She sighed and nodded. "Maybe we should stop drinking."

"What? No. You can't. You have to tell me first."

She squinted up at him. "Tell you what?"

"Uh... That our clothes are dry."

She tilted her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah. Guess not." He smiled suddenly. "I just mean that we gotta keep warm till our clothes dry so we can go to sleep with our clothes on when our clothes are dry once they're dry." He nodded to himself and moved to the counter. "I'm gonna have another."

"So our clothes..." She giggled. "Do they have to be dry?"

"Yes. They..."

She laughed harder and collapsed on the bed. "You're a funny drunk."

**********************

He laughed along so she wouldn't suspect that he wasn't a drunk, funny or otherwise. Not at all. He poured himself more vodka and prune juice. He'd thought of only pretending to drink it. He didn't want to waste it on him when he'd get nothing out of it. But he felt warmer than he had before without being all giggly like Chloe. Plus he kind of liked the taste. Chloe didn't like it much, but Chloe didn't like beef jerky and did like green beans, so she couldn't be trusted on stuff like if stuff tasted good or not. He shrugged and stirred it, thinking he must be tired. His thoughts were messy.

"Clark, I think I made the right choice. Lionel's actually not bad looking for an old guy. I mean, if I think about it."

He shuddered. Hers were even messier. "You are wasted." He frowned and turned to her. She must be wondering why she was so drunk when he was so obviously not. He'd better cover his bases. "You know, I bet it's hitting you harder because you're all... smaller than me."

"Hitting me harder? You're the one who keeps babbling, all nonsensical." She stood up and moved to him. "And I just used a four syll.... A word with four parts." She lifted her chin. "And so what if I'm smaller than you? Everyone's smaller than you because you're gigantic. It's not even fair."

He chuckled and stared down at her. "What's so bad about being smaller? I like you smaller. I like how your head fits right under my chin."

She smiled slightly. "Yeah? I kinda like that, too." She cleared her throat. "Smaller or not, you are the drunkest of us. Lois told me all about it and I don't even have all the symptoms."

"What symptoms?"

"Like your cheeks feel hot and you kind of hate standing and you feel all loose and your teeth get kind of numb." She pursed her lips. "Okay I do have those symptoms. But you're the one talking the craziest."

Clark ran his tongue over his teeth. They didn't feel all there. As for the rest of it... "I... I think I'm drunk."

She giggled. "Duh."

"But... that's wrong."

"Why's it suddenly wrong? We're not in the states. It's probably legal to drink at our age in the Yukon. Not that I know for sure. Are you feeling guilty or..."

"It's not that." He paced away to the counter and put the evil drink down. "It just... It ruins everything."

"What's ruined? We're warm even if we are a little..."

"But we aren't supposed to be." He whirled around, then gripped the counter behind him for support. "At least I'm not. That wasn't part of the plan." 

"The plan?"

He closed his eyes. "How could I be so stupid? It must have been my powers. They were why I couldn't before. And now I don't have them. No wonder..."

"Wait a second."

He opened his eyes on Chloe's narrowed ones. Uh-oh

"I think I'm getting this now." She crossed her arms. "I'm supposed to be drunk, but you're not."

"No. I just meant..."

"No, no, no. I got this. There was a plan. You thought we could drink and you wouldn't get drunk and I would. Is that it?"

"It's not exactly..."

"Were you plotting to get me drunk, Clark?" she asked calmly

"You're making it sound..."

"Were you or not?" She wasn't so calm now.

"It wasn't like..."

"Just answer me," she yelled.

"What was I supposed to do?" he answered back loudly. "One minute you're looking at me all soft and gooey, then you get so prickly, I can't even get near you and I don't know which is the truth."

"Don't turn this around like..."

"I'm not a mind reader and, for someone who's always going on about the truth, you pretty much never tell it."

She gasped. "Are you saying I'm a liar now?"

"About some things? Yes. Like about how this is just so friendly and normal when we're half-naked and we had sex! Nothing's normal, Chloe! Everything's changed."

"Not if we don't..."

"You can't pretend it never happened!"

"I never said it never happened. I only..."

"Well, you act like it. And you act like I'm supposed to just be okay with you treating me like some slumber party girlfriend, like you don't even see me as a man." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "No. I'm talking now. I'm a man, Chloe. Like officially. Legally now and... Mmmmph!"

He had more words for her, but he couldn't say them with her tongue in his mouth. And he couldn't even think of them when she was damned near climbing him. He stumbled back against the counter and held on to her so she wouldn't fall... and because she felt f*cking amazing. Her legs hooked around his waist and he could feel the heat of her skin through the sheet and the softness of her hips under his hands, which gripped her harder as she moved against him. His teeth might be numb, but the rest of him was awake and alive and pretty much okay with the way the conversation was now going.

And that was the problem. This wasn't a conversation. He detached his lips. "Chloe, I want..."

"I know what you want," she breathed, her mouth falling open against his jaw. "And you don't have to get me drunk to get it. I don't know why I've been so stubborn." She lifted her head and met his eyes. "I was just so worried about what happens later, but you're right. Everything has changed. The damage is done."

His body went nearly limp. He almost dropped her. "The damage?"

"No use denying it anymore." She smiled sadly, then stared at his lips. "But it's okay. I don't care what happens later. We're here now. And that's all that matters." She leaned in, but he turned his head away.

Damage? "Chloe..."

Her lips brushed his earlobe and he did drop her, but quickly caught her, his feet stumbling in an awkward dance forward as he tried to keep his grip on her while staying upright. He lost the battle, pitching forward, luckily, onto the bed -- or almost. They were half-on it, but that didn't stop her from sucking at the skin just below his ear and he vaguely thought of stopping her because... he couldn't remember why. He didn't even want to now.


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