Before Sunset (Part Twenty-Six)

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"So you went to look for me?" Chloe clarified.

"It's the only thing that'll make sense," Clark went on. "Lex told me you disappeared the last time I saw him. It won't seem too far-fetched that I went off looking for you after I knew you were missing."

"No. I mean, it makes sense, but we've been gone a week. Why did it take you so long to find me? And why didn't anyone know where we were? Wouldn't you have called your parents when you..."

"I don't know. I haven't got that far yet." He leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms. "Stop pestering me."

She blinked at him. They had just eaten their weight in donuts, they had hot beverages in front of them, and they had a room waiting with real plumbing and electricity. By all rights, the both of them should be in the best of moods. "I'm not pestering you. I'm just trying to work out all the..."

"Yes, you are. You're pestering me and lying to my parents about rooms and money and hitting me and..."

"Clark, you yourself said you didn't want them to know about the money from your grandfather and I kind of thought you'd rather us get a room on what we have than ask your parents for anything else."

"Well... that's not the point."

"Clark, you've been weird since we got off the phone. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm tired and I want a shower. Why aren't we in this mythical room?"

It wasn't nothing and the room wasn't mythical and she'd be annoyed if it wasn't so obvious he was upset about something. Obviously, he wasn't close to telling her... yet. "You wanted to eat first."

"Well, when did you start listening to me?"

"I don't know," she sighed, deciding the middle of Tim Horton's was not the place for an argument. They'd already drawn enough looks, with their ripped, dirty clothes. 

While she'd been concocting the graduation-trip-gone-awry sob story of her life, Clark had gone to the bus station to exchange what was left of their money and it had added up to a travel sized toothbrush and toothpaste, a box of glazed donuts, one extra large coffee, and one hot chocolate. She grabbed one of the last two donuts and took another scalding sip, not too worried. There was a Harvey's on the other corner that seemed to boast free hamburgers on Sundays and tomorrow was Sunday and she still had that ten in change from the woman at the front desk. They would eat tomorrow. They would survive another day and, really, it was glorious. She refused to let him sulk her out of her good mood.

"Look, when we leave, I'll let myself in," she said brightly, "then you wait till the coast is clear and follow. I don't want that clerk thinking I'm a big liar who's stashing a man in my room."

"I think she lied to you," he grumbled, staring at the last donut until she pushed it at him. "No way you got two nights and still had change."

"She said it worked out that way with the exchange rate. And yes, she was obviously lying." Chloe frowned into her coffee. "She was being really nice. Makes me feel even worse about my lie."

"Well..." He picked at the donut with something that seemed to approach a smile before it faded. "You might have got three nights if you told her how you'd really spent the last week surviving an icy wilderness."

"Except for how no one would believe that tall tale." She smiled, ducking her head, trying to catch his eyes. "You're right. We've earned this." He nodded, but still refused to actually smile. "And we still have a few days to concoct a good story, your parents can even help us when they..."

"I think my parents have done enough," he cut in, his tone clipped.

"Okay, Clark," she hissed. "I really don't get why you're mad at me. Yes, I lied and I might have elbowed you just a little, but..."

"I'm not mad at you," he said tiredly. "I'm just... This has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry." He stood. "Can we just get in the room? You can have the first shower."

She wanted to press him more, find out who or what he was mad at. She also wanted to give him the first shower as he seemed to be in most need of... something. As it was, she nodded, took her coffee, and left ahead of him. By the time he was silently milling about the room and she was shut in the bathroom, peeling off her grimy clothes, she felt... alive. Since the moment they'd left their meager camp, she'd been so focused on what was next. Now there was nothing but to wait. The Kents would be here in days, then within a few more days driving, they'd be home. She'd see her father and Lois soon and she'd never have to worry about getting through another night again... unless you counted the danger that was her everyday life. But it hit her, somewhere between warm water pouring over her and the smell of cheap motel soap, that they were okay.

She found herself crying and, when she heard a knock on the door, she started to stupidly wipe her face before she realized she was in the shower. "Come in," she said with a watery laugh.

"Just thought I'd brush my teeth while you're in there," he said over the shower.

"Oh. I'll be done soon," she said quickly, glancing at the curtain, wondering if she'd been taking too long. "Just let me rinse my..."

"It's fine. I told you. I'm just brushing my teeth."

But it was silent except for the shower and she crept forward to peek around the edge of the curtain. He wasn't brushing his teeth, he was staring at the rapidly fogging mirror and holding a toothbrush, looking so broken, she couldn't stop herself.

She pulled the curtain aside. "You can come in, Clark."

He jumped and turned to her. "I know. I already did. I'm just going to..."

She pulled the curtain open further and held out her hand. "Clark, come in."

"I don't..." He suddenly shook his head and dropped his toothbrush in the sink, shrugging off his jacket, then his shirt as he stared at the floor. He dropped the rest of his clothes, still silent as he stepped over the lip of the tub.

She didn't try to get it out of him, whatever it was, just pulled him under the spray and picked up the tiny shampoo bottle, pouring what was left in her hand. 

He gripped her hand. "I don't need you to..."

"I want to," she cut in, lifting her hand out of his and rubbing it in his hair. She wanted to do something for him. He seemed to need something terribly. And, unless he was ready to tell her what was boiling inside him, making him feel cleaner was all she had to give.

So she gave him what she had. She smoothed the suds over his hair, lightly scratched them into his scalp, tickled just a little behind his ears, wondering if he'd smile. He didn't. So she pulled until he ducked his head under the spray, watched the water trail down his chest until it ran clear and tried not to press her lips against his chest and taste it. That would be selfish. That wasn't what he needed right now. Might be what he wanted, though, with the way his eyes moved lazily over her. She picked up the washcloth, ignoring the hand that was starting a trail up her hip. 

She rubbed the soap in and pressed it into his chest. "Why don't you turn around and get that?"

He met her eyes, furrowing his brow.

"I'll get the back," she said gently, prodding his shoulder. He started to hand her the cloth, but she pushed until he turned. "That's for you." As much as she was trying not to let this devolve into sex, she wanted nothing between her palms and his skin. She wanted to feel it, warm and slick. She, of course, knew that sex wasn't out of the question, though it should be. She'd have jumped him already if she was the one rubbing at his chest, stomach, and... lower. But just a few more minutes. She didn't want him to think he had to service her sexually just because they were touching. She could be there for him in the ways she always had. Just there without expectations. It was the easiest way to be with him.

She slid her hands up and down his back as his muscles worked, hands scrubbing at his front with what she thought was unnecessary force. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders, working towards his neck and smiled when his movements seemed to slow down. She dug in harder, making tiny circles with her thumbs until his arms dropped limply to his side. "You can tell me, you know." He tensed and she dug in again until he relaxed again. "There's not much we don't know about each other now," she said softly, pressing against his spine as his head fell forward.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Considering the things I've taken in since last week, I think you should try me." He was silent, so she continued, kneading at his shoulder blades, though the soap had long rinsed away. If he wouldn't talk, then at least she could help him...

"Why do they do it?"

She nearly faltered when he finally spoke, but picked her rhythm back up, still kneading at him, trailing her fingers over the scratches from their fall down the hill and a few she suspected she might have made herself. "What do you mean?" she prodded, not venturing more, though she suspected it had to do with his parents as he'd been morose since he got off the phone.

"They're coming all this way for me and... What good am I now?" His voice broke slightly.

"You're right, then," she said, going on when his head fell further. "I wouldn't understand." She gripped his arm, then, trying to make him turn, but he stayed stiff and silent, facing away. "They're your parents, Clark. They'd do anything to have you home safe."

"It's not fair to them. Not now. I think it used to be, but... You don't get it."

She sighed. "I really don't, I guess."

"No. You don't." He turned, then. "You don't understand what it's been like for them. You don't know hard they've had it because of me. Years of hiding things and trying to help me and always in danger and... there was only one thing that made it okay. Not completely even, but at least it was something I could give them." He smiled sadly. "I could seed the fields in five minutes, feed and water the animals in three, I could do the work of ten men and they'd never have to hire anyone. I don't know how to tell them how sorry I am. I had something to give back then, but now... OW!"

She might have pinched his arm and it might seem counter-productive, after all her very relaxing massage efforts. "I'm doing you a favor," she clarified, giving his chest a smack. 

"How?" He backed to the wall. "By hitting me? Again?"

"Yes. And that's just a taste of what your mom will do when you tell her she's only been raising a free farm hand."

"I never said she thought I was..."

"Well, if you try to apologize for not being their super farmhand anymore, that's what it's going to sound like. And trust me, you're gonna get it."

"My mom won't hit me. She's never hit me." Chloe wanted to counter that it was only because it wouldn't have done any good, but Clark's face fell suddenly. "She'll just... cry." He shook his head. "You're right. I mean, they love me. They'd never want to think I thought..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I mean, I don't think it. I was stupid to even think of it. I just... I know they love me. I'm just... I don't know who I am now."

Her hands gentled against him, slid up his arms to his face. "Well, maybe who you are is more than what you can do. Did you ever think they love that guy?"

"I've never been that guy," he said sadly.

"You've always been that guy. Whatever you could do, that guy made you do it." Her thumb brushed his cheek bone. "I knew that guy for years before I found out what he could do and I... Well, who couldn't love that guy?"

He gripped her arms, then, and backed her to the far wall, dipping his head and meeting her lips. And she suddenly wanted to kick herself. Not because he was kissing her. She'd be a fool to say no to that. As she wasn't a fool, she kissed him back.

It was just how it happened. If they were going to get sexy, then... Well, she'd rather that happen after she said something sexy. Sometime later, after they got all that mushy stuff out of the way. The mushy stuff was fine, but only for friends. They could hug and hold each other, then at some very separate point, they could get here. For her to say that and for him to do that... It got into that confusing territory she was desperately trying to avoid. 


As it was, the damage had been done, so she wrapped her arms around his chest as he gripped her hips, pressed her against the shower wall, buried his face in her neck with a moan of her name. 

He needed this now. She could do this. She just had to keep her head on straight. She didn't want to give herself ideas that this was more than what it was. There was love, sure. The love of friends. They were like family, really. Just like family -- except for the sex. But the sex was just... something they'd get out of their system. It would be done soon. Now that they were going home, this had to end. She'd nip it in the bud right now, but they weren't home yet, so...

She let him press her against the wall, let him kiss his way down her neck, past her collarbone and gasped as his hand slipped between them. He was getting good at that. He could find her clit in what seemed less than a second now. They'd developed a sort of... rapport now. So why let it go to waste? Why not ride it out as long as they were still here? Why torture herself about how to end it when he'd be ending it soon enough?

She dragged her lips across his chest, tasting the droplets of water that clung to him and his fingers faltered, hands moved down her thighs, gripped under. She grappled with his shoulders as her feet left the tub floor. "Clark!"

"Shhh," he hissed, pulling her thighs over his hips. "Not so loud. We're not in the cabin anym..."

"No. Put me down."

He smiled just a little now, pressed her into the wall. "I kind of want to try it like this."

"Well, I don..." She paused, thinking it over. They had a motel room for two days, were not facing imminent death, and she'd just decided this didn't have to end until absolutely necessary. If there was ever a time to experiment-- "Okay. But not in here."

He frowned. "Yeah. Probably a waste of water."

"That and we'll slip, fall, and die." She grasped his shoulders harder. "Did you know slipping and falling in the bathroom is second only to car crashes in accidental death? In 2002, 75 percent of..."

He leaned forward, catching her lips and her fading mumbles until they stopped. "You read too much," he said, lifting his head. "Fine. Not in here." He grinned and stepped back, still holding her. He started to try to nudge at the curtain with his head, then gave it up. "Could you..."

"Clark, the water..."

"Okay." He groaned and moved back toward the faucets. "Can you reach around and..."

"Just put me down for a second so..."

"I don't want to," he said, locking his arms behind her.

She leaned to the side, grappling with the knobs, half glancing at him. "I've never seen you this determined."

"I've never had this kind of motivation," he said, grunting a little as the water stopped and he righted her.

She giggled to herself as she wrapped her arms around his neck as he stepped out of the tub. The shower curtain clung to her head and she shook it off. They had business to discuss. "Where do you want to..."

"Here's fine," he said, pressing her up against the bathroom wall.

"In here?" She glanced around dubiously. "We're still wet and if it's slippery, we'll fall and..."

"Die horribly. Yeah." He groaned and backed out of the door.

"What?" She glared as he carried her out. "Do you want me to quote more accidental bathroom fatality statistics? Because I will."

"No. It's great foreplay," he said dryly. "Tell me all about it."

"Fair enough. But I just think we need some kind of traction."

He pressed her against the closet door. "Fine. Here."

She leaned against the sliding door, pressed a hand behind her and shook it. "Really? Here?"

"What? There's carpeting. That's traction."

"But this door's all rattly. If we have neighbors, they'll hear and think we're..."

"Doing exactly what we're doing."

"Exactly. They'd know what we did."

"That we're doing it." He snickered. "I don't mind," he said on a leer.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. In theory. But if you had to step out and hit the ice machine..."

"Why would we need ice? We've been cold for..."

"Okay. If you had to step out for any reason and face anybody with an adjoining room. you'd be so red-faced..."

"Alright, alright, alright," he said impatiently.

"What? I know you."

"Fine," he grunted, adjusting her against him and backing further into the room. "Then where?"

She glanced at the wall on the side of the door. "That looks sturdy."

"Good," he panted, crab-walking them between the bed and the dresser with a blurry landscape watercolor hanging...

"Wait," she said, eying it.

He stopped, his shoulders just a little slippery as she held on tighter. "What?"

"Well, what if we knock that painting down? I feel bad enough, getting this room for nothing and..."

He growled and rushed to the wall between the bed and the bath. "Remember when I said you were easy? I really didn't mean it."

"Fine. This is good." She reached back to knock against the wall. "Seems solid." She relaxed slightly and leaned forward, kissing his jaw before she found herself sliding down. "Clark?" 

"Sorry." He hefted her up and she leaned into his neck as he... did nothing. 

"What's wrong?"

"My arms are tired," he said miserably.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I took too long with the..."

"No. It's not you," he cut in, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "I'm just not strong enough."

"Well... I don't know how realistic this is. I mean, you can't hold me up forever."

"I could have once," he said, nearly mumbling it as his grip loosened and her legs slid down and her feet met the floor.

"Clark..." She sighed and kissed him because she didn't know what else to do. She knew this wasn't just about new and exotic sex positions. She couldn't bring his powers back and she couldn't argue that he was better off without them, especially now that she knew just how much help Smallville had in him all this time. But there was no changing that. They could just keep trying, hope for the best. As of right now, all they could do was make the most of what they had now. And what did they have? They were young and healthy and in no immediate danger. It was enough for her right now.

It seemed to be enough for him, as he kissed her back hard, gripping her and trying to lift her up again. 

She pushed him back lightly. "No. Wait," she whispered. Sidling past him and to the bed. As much as she knew his strange sort of sadness was about more than exotic sex positions, she also knew that same thing just might cheer him up -- at least for now. She crawled on the bed and looked over her shoulder. "You said you wanted to try this," she said, giving the most come-hithery look she could muster as she really wasn't used to giving come-hithery looks at all.

But it must have done the job. His eyes widened and he pretty much fell on her, raining kisses on the back of her neck, hands sliding under her and over her breasts. She tried to keep upright rather than melt into the covers when one hand slid past her stomach, bumped back against him. "Don't, Clark," she whispered. "I'm ready." In truth, she'd been ready from the moment he stepped into the shower. She could shatter under him now, from just a few flicks of his fingers. But since she now knew he was keeping some kind of score, she didn't want to end up ahead of him, especially when this was for him. This wasn't about her. It couldn't be about her. She wouldn't let it be. She shouldn't get used to this.

***********

He could get used to this. Being mortal might just have perks. 

Cold? Sex with Chloe. Weak? Sex with Chloe. Upset? Sex with Chloe. Drunk? Sex with... Well, not that time, but the next morning, so it was connected. 

There was this part of him that still couldn't believe it. He was having sex. She was having sex. She was letting him have SEX with her. SEX was being had when, deep down, he'd always thought it was something he'd never have. And not with the mild despair of any teenage guy who believed he might never have SEX. He'd spent the last few years thinking about it and resigning himself to the possibility that he never, ever, seriously ever would. Considering that nearly every time he even thought of sex, fire shot from his eyes, he's begun thinking it would be best not to try it.

But now... He really should be thinking of every way not having his powers bit it and bit it hard. But it was hard to think of that when there was SEX. Of course, he might want to think more on that as it really was going to change every aspect of his life, from chores to stopping whatever meteor mutant took it in his/her mind to... No. Problem was he really couldn't, not when he was about to be smack in the middle of SEX. 

He'd worry later. He'd like to think his years of worrying and brooding experience meant that he could pick it up again easily in just four minutes -- five if he had anything to say about it. Of course, the minute he slipped inside her, he feared he had very little to say about it. He'd be lucky to get to three.

"Damn it," he growled as she bumped back against him and he shook all over. He knew he should have got her taken care of first. Though limited, his experience with sex had taught him two things. The first was that it was awesome. No matter what. Full sex, hand job, or oral, it was the best feeling ever. This also went for giving hand jobs or oral. He'd only given one of each, full-on, but knowing that you can give someone what he'd learned was the best feeling ever was almost as good as being on the receiving end. He really understood charity on a deeper level. All that stuff about it being better to give than recieve and how... He couldn't really philosophize on it well now, not when she was writhing under him and tightening around him and that brought him to the second thing he'd learned.

Always, ALWAYS, get her as close to finishing as possible before having sex. Whether she got there before or not, there was a kind of relaxation in knowing she got hers or was close to getting hers and, once it happened, he could be free to get his. Now he wasn't so sure. He didn't want to finish if she didn't. It had plagued his mind all day yesterday, things being uneven, even more so than the possibility of freezing to death. Luckily, he'd managed to catch up, tasting her in ways he'd only seen simulated on Cinemax, under the blankets in the open air. But now... Now he was about to get his whether he liked it or not.

Of course, he liked it. Who wouldn't? But he wanted her to like it. He gasped as she tightened around him, reaching back to grip his thigh as he twisted his hips behind her. 

So fine. She liked it, but it wasn't enough for her to just like it. She had to love it, she had to feel every bit of disbelief and wonder he did. In short, she had to come for him. And if she kept squeezing him like that, it would be over in seconds -- forget minutes.

He braced one hand at her her side and slid the other under her, trying to find that spot. He'd found it before, with tongue and fingers. Now should be no...

"No, Clark." She gripped his wrist. "For you... Don't..."

He shook her hand off and bent closer to her, stilled his hips. "It's for you, too," he breathed into her neck, unable to resist biting lightly that soft spot between her neck and shoulder as his fingers circled. She choked out a sob beneath him and he wished he could see her face. He almost wanted to turn her over, sort of missing those little faces she pulled when he was getting it right. That and breasts. He could watch naked breasts shake and shiver all day. 

But there was something to be said for the lack of that distraction, other things to see and feel, to hear. He could hear her breathing now, almost as if it was louder, every detail of it, every huff and hitch. He could feel her tremors and tightenings around him more keenly as he worked her faster. He could tell, before she even cried out, it was happening and he twisted his hips upward just once as his fingers slipped against her. She tightened almost brutally around him and he'd have lost it if he wasn't so relieved she'd got hers. Now he could relax -- if this could be called relaxing. His arm was nearly numb with fatigue as it slipped from under her and gripped her hip as she sort of face-planted on the bed.

"Chloe? You ok..."

She grunted something that seemed to indicate she was fine, even reached back to try to pat his thigh before her hand slapped down on the covers. He knew the feeling. Every muscle felt depleted even as the blood roared in his ears. This week was finally catching him up and he thought he might damned well collapse right over her before he even got his, then he felt her push back, saw her raise up just a little and press against him. He felt himself re-energized because this woman... It's like she knew, she always knew when he needed just a little help, a little push, a little squeeze, a little... thrust. "God, Chloe!"

His hips pitched up against hers just once more before he really did collapse over her, shaking as his weight flattened her under him. He might not have moved if she hadn't stirred under him, mumbling something that might be his name into the blankets. He used what was left of his strength to roll off her, head lolling to the side just to make sure she was still breathing. He saw her head lift and finally closed his eyes.

Later--he wasn't sure how much later--he felt cold. He nearly thought they were back in that cabin, except for the bed didn't smell like mildew. He felt a push and opened his eyes.

"Under," Chloe said hoarsely.

He grunted his agreement and lifted up as much as he could. It must not be much later, his skin was still warm and damp, but rapidly cooling. He tried to push the covers from underneath him until he felt her give a yank.

He might have rolled right off the bed until she flattened herself over him with a giggle. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he yawned. "So tired." He turned on his side, relaxed as the covers fell over him and she settled in beside him. He was sure he'd fall asleep right then. Actually, he wasn't sure he hadn't, but it seemed only seconds before he felt fingers brush lightly against his chin. He opened his eyes.

She pulled them away quickly, reddening just a little. "You've got... a little beard starting."

He stretched a little, then brought up a hand to stroke at his chin. "Does it look stupid?" Almost every time he saw a guy with a goatee he thought they looked stupid... or was that jealousy talking?

"No. It's fine. Just different. I've never seen you with facial hair."

He stroked at his chin. "Neither have I. I never... I mean, I never had to shave, but I never thought about not having to shave before." He frowned and rolled onto his back, wondering if he wanted a beard. "Maybe I should start. I used to watch my dad do it when I was a kid. He even offered to teach me when I got old enough, not that I ever seemed to..." He frowned, thinking there was more to think about than if he wanted to try out a beard. "I'm going to have to start doing all kinds of things now. I'll have to go to the doctor."

"Use band-aids," Chloe added thoughtfully.

"Yeah? I don't mind that. I was always jealous about never getting to have them. I used to make my mom put them on when I banged myself up, even if it didn't hurt." He shrugged. "I like the way they smell."

Chloe sighed. "You'd think the former alien thing would have topped it, but you keep getting weirder."

He turned to her, ready to be offended until he saw her grin. He flicked at her arm. "I can do that now without launching you into the wall. There's a perk."

"And I can do it back," she said, going for his nose, "and not worry about your alien revenge, so...."

He laughed, blocking her next five flicks, then stopped in the middle of smothering her face with the blankets. "Chloe, everything's going to be different."

She sighed and peeked her head out. "I know."

"How are we going to do this?"

"We'll be fine."

"How? You may have taken down the Wall of Weird, but that doesn't mean they aren't still out there."

"And now there's been a second meteor shower," she said, furrowing her brow.

"That means more meteor mutants."

"We talked about this before. We'll be fine."

"We didn't. We got... a little sidetracked," he settled on. Eating, drinking, revealing dark secrets, and lots of sex would do that.

"We just need to try harder. I mean, most of what we did was figuring out what their power was and how to fight it. Little did I know, you were smuggling some serious powers all that time, but we know new things now. We know for sure that every single one of them has a weakness. There's always a way to fight them and it doesn't have to take powers. We just... figure it out. We've always figured things out, you and me."

"You and me," he repeated, staring back at her, feeling just a little gooey inside. 

Her eyes widened. "Don't..." She cut herself off and turned away.

He lifted onto one elbow, tried to lean over her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, taking a deep breath and turning back. "Just... worried and... I guess I've got cabin fever. Who knows how long we'll be stuck here?"

He stared at her, knowing she was upset and, wondering if it was about more than that. Regardless, she needed cheering up and since she'd been pulling that duty on him for hours, he figured it was his turn. He sat up. "It's not too bad. I mean, this is a definite upgrade from our other suite." He looked around, something he hadn't done before. "Look," he said, nodding at the painting above the dresser. "Fine art. Might not have the punch of dried animal skins, but it's okay."

She looked like she might smile, but didn't quite get there.

So he put his feet over the side of the bed, standing and moving nearer to the bathroom. "Running water. Hot and cold," he said gesturing widely. "And if that's not enough," he said, patting the bed, "this does not smell like a moldy sock."

"True." She pursed her lips, so close to smiling, he could almost kiss it off her.

"But I haven't pointed out our best upgrade. Me, I'm not impressed, but I think it'll put this room over the top for you." He moved toward the dresser and gestured grandly. "A miniature coffee-maker, complete with tiny packets of coffee." He picked one up. "It says Bridgehead's Best, but I'll let you be the judge of...

"Clark?" He turned and she was smiling. And lifting her arms. "Come here."

"Why?" He grabbed another packet. "This turning you on?" He held it up. "Because they have powdered creamer, too."

She laughed then. "Get over here."

"Okay," he said, tossing the packet... somewhere. "So is coffee your aphrodisiac? Because I have a theory."

"Do you?"

"You aren't the only one with the crazy theories," he said, grinning as he slipped under the covers. "I suppose you want to do all kinds of wild, crazy things now."

"Just one thing." She slid a fingertip across his collarbone. "It's pretty wild, though."

"Oh, yeah?" He was intrigued, except very, very tired. Warm blankets, soft beds, and a week without real sleep seemed to have that effect on him these days.

"Sleep," she said, burrowing into him.

"Kinky," he said on a yawn, folding her in. She sighed into his chest and he rested his head on her chin. "You always know, Chloe," he breathed, "just what I need."

Her only answer was a soft snore.

PREVIOUS PART
PART TWENTY-SEVEN

A/N: I truly believe that, were Clark chasing Chloe rather than Lana, he'd feel the loss of his powers more keenly. With Chloe, who's been by his side in this, before and after she knew, through situations where he needed his powers, he'd have a clearer head, not clouded by fantasy.