Before Sunset (Part Thirteen)

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It feels like I'm doing a lot of Clark POV, which is a surprise to me because I really felt this was Chloe's story before I started writing it. Somewhere along the way, Clark became the voice in my head and the romantic protagonist. Twist. Heh.

PART 13

He came in to find her standing up abruptly from behind the bed, holding her hands behind her back, smiling. He hesitantly smiled as well. "What?"

"Nothing. I was just reflecting on fate and destiny and the odds that two other lonely travelers from Smallville would end up here."

He kicked the door shut behind him. "I didn't see anyone else out th..." His eyes widened and he dropped his wood pile. "Was it a helicopter? Do you think Lex is still..."

She giggled. "Not people." She pulled two cans from behind her back.

He tripped slightly over the logs as he moved to her, taking one. "Ross' Best Creamed Corn?" He let out a laugh. "How old is this?"

"I didn't see a date."

"It must be pretty old. Pete's dad sold out to Luthor before 1995, I think." He turned the can over. "How would this make its way up to the Yukon?"

"Teleported from a cave?" She giggled again. "Apparently, that's not too far-fetched."

"Maybe our town's corn is just internationally famous," he laughed, then stared at the faded picture. "I got so sick of creamed corn, growing up, but this looks..."

"I know. I haven't come across a can opener yet, but there has to be a way to open it."

He frowned at the faded label. "I don't know. If it's so old, maybe we shouldn't risk it."

"I bet it's okay. It's been frozen up here, as well as canned." She tossed her can up and caught it. "And that's not all. I found some spare kerosene for the lamp and some more matches and one battery." She frowned. "The flashlight actually needs two, but I bet the other'll turn up. And then I found... Oh, come on." She pulled him to the head of the bed. "I've been taking snooping to new levels." She pointed to a loose floorboard. "There's more stuff in there. I would have got it all out, but I just couldn't get over these." She smiled at the can one more time before getting to her knees, putting it aside. "If we move the bed, we can get the board all the way up." She put her hands on the frame.

Clark started to, then let go. "I don't know if we should."

She stared up at him, still holding the frame. "This again? Really?"

"If someone hid this stuff so well, they must really need it. It must be for emergencies."

She sighed. "And I wonder what this is."

He pursed his lips. She was right. "I still feel..."

"Okay." She stood, then dug in her pocket. "I have... about fifteen dollars in my pocket." She moved to the counter and slapped it down, then dug some more. "And... thirty-two cents." She dropped that as well. "We can leave that with a note." She looked around. "As soon as I find a pen or something."

Clark nodded and strode over, digging in his back pocket. "I have a fifty. I got a card from my mom's dad for graduation and I pocketed the money before my parents... Well, they don't talk to him, but I pretty much never have a fifty, so..."

"Clark, it's only some creamed corn so far, I doubt we need to put out that much..."

"We did break a window pane." He slapped his fifty down next to her ten and five and change. 

"Well, there you go." She gestured to the money. "It's more like a purchase."

"Yeah. They'll see the food's missing, but once they see the money and everything will be..." He stopped, shaking his head.

"What? What now?"

"Well... what good is money going to do them in the middle of nowhere? They might really need that food if they didn't bring enough."

She shook her head. "Do you just have to think of every way to starve us?" She gestured to the loose board. "Clark, that corn is over six years old and in deep freeze. I bet the rest is too. The owner probably doesn't even remember it's even..."

"But what if they do? And what if they come up to trap, expecting it to be there just in case and then, when they need it, it's not. They might starve."

"And we definitely will if you keep..." 

"I just kind of think the owner might miss the food."

"And I kind of think the owner might rather miss the food than trip over the two dead bodies in his... His... It's a him! I know that." She stopped, taking a breath. "Okay. That hunting guide I saw..." She moved into the bathroom and came back out. "A-ha! Thought so." She gestured to the back. "A subscription to... Olivier Le Gal."

"But are we sure that's the..."

"It is. There was... another piece of literature I found behind the toilet." She dropped her voice, as if someone could hear. "It was a nudie magazine."

Clark's eyes widened. "Well... We should check and make sure the addresses..."

"They do and we can't. I kind of used it to start the fire, which, I told you, took forever."

He turned to the stove. "Why'd you do that?" She gasped and slapped his shoulder. He turned back. "Hey! What..."

"You aren't seriously thinking of looking at giant fake boobs."

"No," he grumbled, rubbing his arm. Though he wasn't against it in general, he'd have enough trouble not looking at real boobs tonight. "But this is an isolated cabin. That guy might want that magazine just as much as the food."

Chloe drew back. "Oh. Ew." She grimaced. "I mean, I get it, but... ew." She perked up. "We'll send him some more with the money. Anyway, we have this." She held out the hunting guide. "We hang onto it and look up the guy and send him more money later with a warning that his store of old food is depleted and I burned his booby rag ." She handed the guide to him. "Okay? Does that make you feel better?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Kind of. I mean, as long as we..."

"Great!" She moved back to the bed and braced her hands on the metal posts. "I'm starved. Let's get on with the looting."

He stayed at the counter. "It's not like you wouldn't feel guilty, too, if some guy starved up here with no..."

"Okay! Maybe I would have," she sighed. "But later. After we survived."

"Yeah. Later," he muttered. He was starting to notice that. "You always back down later."

"What?"

"Nothing." He moved to the bed, grasping the bottom of the heavy frame. They pushed it to the front wall and he crouched beside her, staring into the narrow rectangle. "Should I..."

"No. You won't fit."

"I think I can..."

"Let me..." She leaned down and slipped her arm in. "Just see what we got here..." She pulled out another can and straightened. "Corn. Not Smallville's, though. Bonduelle," she read. She shrugged. "I guess nothing else goes better with corn." She leaned down again and pulled out another. "Except more corn," she said dully. 

He felt kind of disappointed, too. Now that this stash was before them, he was hoping for stew or chili or...

"Corn," she sighed, pulling out another.

"Must have been on sale." He put it next to the other four cans. "At least we'll be eating." 

"Might as well get all the corn out." She leaned down and nearly kissed the floor. She came up with a new can.

"Corned beef hash," he read excitedly.

She sat up. "Is everything corn-related with this guy?"

"No. It's meat and potatoes and carrots, usually. It's really..."

"I know. I'm just teasing. Anyway... meat. That's a good thing." She leaned down again. "Might be a nice break from the... Haricots verts coops a la francaise?" She handed him the can.

"Green beans," he sneered, looking at the picture.

"I like green beans."

He placed it down. "They're all yours."

"There's another can, but I can hardly... A-ha! Almost got it." 

"Come on, beef stew," he whispered. 

She straightened with a red and white can. "Condensed milk." She held it out. "It comes from cows."

"Pretty much the same thing," he said, taking it. "I have longer arms than you. I should try..."

"No. I like playing Santa." She giggled and leaned down again. "Besides, I felt a big can. I can get it." She pulled it out. It was rather large and barely fit through the hole.

"That's gotta be stew."

She fumbled a bit and pulled from the top. "It's big. What if it's coffee?"

"I still vote stew."

"I always vote coffee." She gave a jerk and it clattered to the floor.

"Prune juice," Clark groaned. "Of all the juices..."

Chloe laughed. "No. It makes sense. I mean, if he likes corn so much, he probably needs it."

"Huh?"

"Some people can't digest corn, even if they love it. My dad has diverticulitis." She picked up the can. "Or had. I don't know anymore if he's even in the present tense." She suddenly laughed. "Do you know his doctor's name is Vincent Dudah? I always laugh when I think of it because I had to be there for his colonoscopy to drive him home because of the drugs. Every time the nurse said something about checking in with his doctor, he started singing 'Camptown Races.' I teased him about that later. He was such a silly guy sometimes."

"Chloe, you don't know that he's a... a was."

"No, I don't. I think that's the hardest part." There was a loud sort of whistle and she jumped. "Jeez! Look at me, getting all sentimental over prune juice when my kettle's done."

"Your kettle?"

"My hot water for us. Or the clothes. I don't know which should go first." 

Clark swallowed hard, wondering if he should put in a vote for neither. Though a bath sounded kind of good. Clean clothes didn't sound bad, either. Still, both involved some level of nudity.

She stood and moved to the stove, grabbing her jacket from the tiny stool. "I think maybe two more kettles and we have a full tub for either."

Clark didn't even want to think about it. "I'm going to see what else is in there," he said, quickly jamming his arm into the hole, wanting his mind on anything else.

"You can't fit."

"Sure, I can. I'm in."

She wrapped her jacket around her hand and shook her head, grabbing the kettle. "Don't blame me if your arm gets stuck."

"It won't get st..." Stuck. It was stuck. It was in, but one little pull told him it wouldn't come out so easy. He jerked and his hand brushed something cold. At least he had the length to reach things. Now if he could only get them out. He gripped something large. It felt like a can. Another big can. He said a silent prayer that it wasn't prune juice as he pulled back hard. Something clinked under the boards as he jerked his arm out with the can. It wasn't beef stew. He glanced toward the bathroom and rubbed his arm, not feeling too downcast. It was, actually, a little better. He stared at the brown label with the coffee beans as he heard her steps. He tossed it under the bed quickly and sat up, still holding his arm.

She stopped in the doorway, holding the kettle. "You got stuck."

"I'm fine." He poked his arm back in. "I was just feeling around. Getting warmed up."

She moved to the stove and placed the kettle on top. "Clark, just let me finish so you don't..."

"No. I felt one more thing in there. I got it." He didn't want her bending down and seeing under the bed. Not just yet. He grimaced and slid his arm in, scraping against the wood. "I bet I can..." His voice trailed off and she bent down.

"What's wrong?"

"I think something just crawled on me." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't care. I almost have it." His shoulder disappeared and he was afraid the rest of him might somehow get swallowed up before he heard a dull clink. "Not a can. Feels like a bottle." He pulled back with all his might and nearly stumbled back, his hand holding a clear bottle with blue and white lettering and the picture of an...

"Iceberg," he read.

"Vodka," she finished.

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PART FOURTEEN

ASS Fanfic cheat #45637: If you want to get two stubborn characters to bend to your smutty will, just pour some alcohol into them. Works every time... Okay. Maybe not every time. But most times.

Actually, not even most. More like a third.

But this just might be one of those times. You never know.