I don't write fic... I fix shows

A place for fic

2012-12-12T00:53:00.000-08:00

NOTE: Blogger doesn't allow me to reply directly to comments. But I do reply on the page when I get to it, so if you check back, you'll see I'm trying to reply to your feedback or answer your questions. I just hope, someday, Blogger fixes this silly issue so y'all can know when I reply to you.

I've been writing fanfic for a year now. And, while I started with forums, I know it can be frustrating to read it there. Though I personally love the commentary, chapter by chapter, I know it can be annoying as a reader, going through the other posts to find a new chapter. In addition, I really want to have a place to put my fic when finished. So... Here I am.

Don't want to go on and on here (you'll see how much I go on and on if you start reading the things).

I'll be posting each, chapter by chapter, as quickly as I can.

WARNING: As it is now, all of my fics are Adult, so please... no kiddies.

Hope you all read and enjoy.

April

Tightly Controlled

2012-02-09T22:20:00.000-08:00

Title: Tightly Controlled
Author: April/apeygirl/TheAmazingApe
Request: For the Secret Chlark gift exchange. Lex, Alternate Universe, Something short -- with no Lois or Chlollie or post S8
Rating: R
Warnings: spoilers up to season six and part of season seven's premiere, AU after. Lex got Chloe after the morgue. No Kara involved.
Summary: One-shot. Chlark with Lex POV. AU after season six. Lex successfully kidnaps Chloe to a secret facility... with motives deeper than just snagging another metoer freak.
A/N: TwistedLyn wanted Chlark with Lex involved, either happy or tragic without Lois or Chlollie or season eight. I hope I have delivered to her satisfaction.

It was the waiting that killed him. Not the watching. The watching, there was something strangely thrilling about. Getting that peek into her inner life. Testing reactions to stimuli. It was all so interesting.

Week One was all about deprivation, darkness, the absence of stimuli. it was the same with every mutant, really. Stick them in a dark room, let them wake up and panic, watch them yell for help, watch them give up and cry. Then, rarely, watch them try to fight.

Chloe was one of the rare ones. He'd smiled secretly as he watched her. Somehow, he knew she would be. He'd seen her in action for years. He knew her tenacity. He'd even hid her for months when his father wanted nothing more than to silence the threat she represented. He knew the girl then. He supposed he was getting to know the mutant now.

Then again, she'd probably been the mutant even then, all along. His scientists, on initial examination after retrieving her from the morgue, said that there were heavy concentrations of meteor rock inside her, but that it had been previously dormant. So maybe that had no real hold over her actions, but they were still fascinatingly irregular.

She'd screamed for five minutes, cried for bare seconds, and was suddenly tearing strips from her hospital gown, testing their strength, tying them together, winding them around her own neck before holding them out and tugging each end. tightening until the fabric snapped into a straight line.

He pitied whatever wrangler he had to send in for her nightly sedation, though not enough to give heads up. Of course, the sedation might be unnecessary. He knew what she could do. It was almost anti-climactic. Despite the fact that Chloe Sullivan was now somewhere above or beneath human, he knew there was no reason to keep her here... save one.

He would come for her. It was only a question of when. So Lex waited and watched and wondered if he was doing the same, somewhere out there.

Lex nearly smiled when the barrel-chested orderly pushed into the room, the door staying, strangely enough, open behind him, then stopped in the middle, turning this way and that. Jackson, Lex's head of security, twitched beside him as she jumped on the man, winding her make-shift noose around his neck and pulling him back toward the door.

"No. Wait," Lex said, stilling Jackson. He watched as she pulled the man toward the door as he tried to grasp at her behind him even as his motions weakened with the lack of air. Lex leaned forward, wondering if Sullivan would go so far as to kill him. That would certainly justify keeping her around. But she didn't. She just stopped the door with her foot and tried to edge it open, trying to drag the weakening man through it. She let him go, then, pulling the door shut against his torso.

His other cameras caught her running down the hall, then, paper-thin gown dancing around her as she tried door after door, finding them all closed to her.

"Sir, we can't just let her..."

"Wait," Lex growled. He had no idea what he was waiting for, but something, anything to tell him that all the effort to have her wasn't a waste of his time. He suspected it might be. A fucking healer. She was no danger and she was no use. Had he really just wasted countless man-hours on her?

She slapped her hands on the wall. "Somebody! Please!"

"Fuck it," he groaned. "Get her back in."

He watched her sink down the wall beside the last door, sobbing, as Jackson radioed in, telling the guards to surround and sedate. He watched as they pushed open the door, watched her back down the hall as she seemed to try to shrink into nothingness.

Nothing. That's what she was. Nothing to him now. Maybe he should just turn her out. She could be one of those crazies that claimed they were abducted and put in white rooms and experimented on. She could run a conspiracy theory web site. God knew, he'd set quite a few of those loose on the world in his more merciful moments. Poor little mutants with powers that couldn't hurt a fly (or be harnessed for the betterment of man). Best to just break them and let them go. Maybe Sullivan was no better.

"No!" She screamed as she looked behind her, saw the men closing in on the other end of the hall. "Clark," she cried out.

Lex nearly jumped toward the monitor, then.

She shrunk toward the wall, looking to either side of her, then sobbing his name. "Clark!"

Lex fumbled for his radio, signalling Jackson. "Sedate her and report back to me." He watched as the men crowded in on her crumpling form. "There's been a change of plans."

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

Week Two was supposed to be about integration. Lex wasn't insane. He knew that those mutants that were the least dangerous, the least psychotic, needed something more than a dark room to keep them compliant. He'd give them that bit of a nod to the humanity they once possessed... in a highly supervised way. They could take meals together in the commissary. They could have exercise in the yards. Read in the library. They could, under the watchful eye of his guards and in tightly controlled groups and with a healthy dose of lead in their systems (something he'd picked up from the ex-doctors of one Alicia Baker), have all the pleasures of life.

But not her. Not yet. Still, he thought he'd given her something special all on her own.

Because Chloe was special. She was different. He suspected she would be. She would bring him in. He'd been dancing for years around the mystery that was Clark Kent. He'd thought, in drawing Lana in, that he'd struck to the heart of Clark. But he'd had it wrong. He knew that now. Hell, he even married the little sociopath and Clark had been unchanged. It was a messy affair, too, with her now "dead" and him having to get out of the "murder." Very ineffectual, in the end. He had to make it count this time. He had to hit Clark where he lived. He had to take the thing he couldn't do without. It was stupid of him, thinking it was Lana. Lana wasn't something Clark needed. Lana was something he wanted. Or maybe only thought he wanted. Lana was the prettiest girl in town. Lana, Clark could almost only look at through a telescope for years. Lana was an idea, a whim, a fantasy. The reality was Chloe. Chloe, who he spent the better part of every day with.

Chloe was the kind of girl a man needed. Just on her skill sets alone, she could prove indispensable. But Lex knew what Clark didn't yet realize. Chloe was more than that to Clark. She had to be. He didn't think Clark had gone a day without her from the age of thirteen on, save when she'd been "dead" in about the same way his poor little wife was. There was something to her. Something almost... inspiring. He'd nearly been drawn in, himself. Late night talks as they plotted Lionel's downfall had shown him she didn't just want some petty revenge. Chloe was a girl... or really a woman... with high ideals. He'd listened with fascination as she'd paced the room, quoting Donne and Shakespeare and going on and on about justice and truth and integrity. He'd been impressed, but unmoved, himself. As a man living in a world of freaks and possible aliens, he knew she was imagining black and white in a virtual sea of gray. But it was just the kind of childish, idealistic thinking that Clark might get behind. They had been friends all these years, after all. He could see Clark listening to her little rampages and feeling drawn in. Hell, he must have.

He was convinced. Have Chloe? Get Clark. So what did he do?

He gave her a new set of rooms. The best ones. More like a luxury suite than the hole he'd had her in before. He'd almost hoped she'd be grateful, or at least docile. But maybe that was too much to hope.

He'd had her feed sent to his office and his home. After all, he couldn't be expected to be at the facility day and night. How was supposed to finance these ventures? Sullivan made it rather expensive all on her own as she'd trashed the place on her first day.

"Luthor!" She upended a table. "I know it's one of you! Which one, huh?"

He was slightly offended. It wasn't like there weren't other entities that might have reasons to contain mutants like her. The government certainly had its own stake in controlling...

"Who else?" she growled, grabbing a vase from the nightstand and hurling it against the wall. "Seriously, who the fuck else would try this? You think this changes anything?" She leaned over the bed, tearing at the luxurious bedding, throwing it this way and that. "Damn it, you come face me!" She moved to the bookshelf, shoving them off by the row before trying vainly to pull the shelf off the wall.

"It's bolted in," he pointed out helpfully, though she couldn't hear. Not that he'd let her hear him. If he decided to let her go, it would be without a shred of proof to implicate him. Silly girl. This was nothing more than a tantrum, so he called in to still his men and let it happen. He watched her childish histrionics, which ended, rather amusingly, in her trying to rip up the lush down comforter, then falling into sobs with feathers floating around her.

She moved to the window, then, hanging on the bars and sobbing before she stiffened and backed away, wiping her face, moving to the center of the room, shaking slightly as she glanced around her.

"Listen to me," she said loudly. "Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't. I shouldn't have... I was scared. I panicked. But I'm alright. Please, listen to me. Please, don't." She started to the window again, then backed away, sinking to the floor, wincing at what he knew were several hundred dollars worth of broken glass boring into her skin. "Please, please don't."

Lex stared at the monitor, wondering what she thought he was going to do. There was something strange about her words, something in the tone, so abruptly changed that he wondered if she was speaking to him at all. Had she just snapped?

He sent them in then, when she was weak as a kitten, to sedate her and tidy up the mess she'd made of the room and herself. It was all her own fault. The next day, she had rougher, more utilitarian bedding, paper cups and plates, and no books. Maybe he'd give them back if she behaved herself or, at the least, gave him something worth rewarding.

It didn't seem she would, however. She slept and ate and only reluctantly used the toilet, draping a towel over her lap and glaring around her as if searching out a camera. Needless to say, she absolutely refused to shower for days. Then, on the fourth, he caught her dragging a chair into the bathroom and draping her blankets and sheets over the glass shower doors. He supposed she thought she was pretty clever. He let her have that victory and didn't access the feed that came from the shower's fixtures. But he knew he could and that was all that mattered.

Yes. Everything was tightly controlled. But to what end? What had any of this brought him? One less reporter on the streets? He supposed that was an end unto itself, but not one to waste his best suite and his best video feed and hours of watching a woman who hardly spoke except for that same crazed rambling. "Don't do it. If you hear me, don't. Just don't..." and so on. Really, he didn't know what she was so bothered about. Nobody had touched her save to deliver meals and nightly sedation, both of which she seemed resigned to accepting. Maybe she was just going insane. Toward the end of that week, he needed to figure out what to do with her. Watching her seemed useless. Not that he could stop.

And that was just the problem. He was getting damn little done with the possibility of her doing something lingering over him day and night.

He was just trying to decide whether to allow her to socialize with the others or turn her out before she found some way to implicate him in all this when a harried voice sounded out over his intercom.

"Sir. Clark Kent's truck is coming up the drive. You said to notify you if..."

He pressed the call button. "I know what I said." He allowed himself a small smile. He'd been waiting for this. "Ask him to state his business."

"Yes, Sir. Please exit your vehicle and... Hey! You can't just..." There was a crash and a metallic whine and a series of shouts and bangs.

He pressed the button. "Peters?"

More shouting and a squealing noise.

"Peters, what the hell is going on down there?"

"He just drove right through the gate, Sir. He might be armed." There was a loud beep. "Second Team, Copy. There is an intruder heading to the castle dragging half the damned gate with him. Surround Mr. Luthor. Make sure he doesn't get..."

Lex backed away from the desk as the orders went back and forth, his smile officially wiped away. The fact is, he hadn't considered all angles. He'd seen this moment as a clear triumph and never thought of Clark Kent as dangerous. Sure, he knew there was something different, maybe even feared him in an abstract way. But most of him still saw a farm boy with a goofy grin and a tendency to preach. He resented him, but he'd never been truly afraid until now.

He moved to the window and damned near pressed his face to the pane as Clark's truck lumbered in, badly damaged and dragging half his gate as Peters had said. He held his breath as Clark jumped out and... just stood there. The guards rushed out and he put his hands up, his face turning upwards and toward Lex.

"You better let them take me to you, Lex!" he yelled. "Because you're about to get exactly what you want!"

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

Lex clutched his gun in his lap as Clark was marched in, five armed men behind him, wondering if it would be any use. Wondering if the men would be any use. He saw Clark's truck and he saw Clark. One of them didn't have a scratch.

"Send them out," he barked, as if he were in control. Lex had the sinking feeling he might be. "Or I don't give you a thing."

Lex narrowed his eyes, but didn't motion to the guards. "You seem to have some idea you have something I want."

"Because I do," he said, his eyes hard and cold. "The truth. For six years, you've wanted it and you don't get it with an audience."

He sat up straighter, still clutching his gun, and swallowed hard. "Very well." He nodded at his men. "Wait outside." He gave Clark a tight smile as they filed out, still training their guns on him. "Good enough?"

"It has to be." He moved forward, slowly though. "You satisfied now?"

Lex chuckled darkly and shook his head. "Clark, I have the feeling I'll never be satisfied. Now what could possibly be the meaning of this?" He leaned back and forced a benign smile. "Usually, you manage to come in here and accuse me of whatever imaginary offense without destroying my estate."

Clark only stared at him for a long time... then longer. "Are we done?"

"Done?"

"I'm not dancing around this anymore, Lex. Let's just have it out. Now." Clark suddenly lunged at Lex's thick glass desktop.

Lex jumped back, grappling with his gun and backing to the wall as Clark fell on it, smashing right through it, bringing Lex's computer and phone crashing on top of him amid the shards. He stood back, trembling, wondering if Clark had stumbled and wrecked himself before he saw, outright saw him now, get up and shake himself off.

"Doesn't even hurt," Clark said as glass tinkled to the floor in tiny clashes. "But you knew that."

"Sir!" The door handle turned.

"It's alright," Lex called out, his eyes widening on Clark. Yes. He knew. He'd tried to call it a suspicion, but he knew. But seeing it...

"Want to try that gun?" Clark growled, stepping over the rubble and backing him against the wall.

"I don't..."

Clark grasped it in his hands, put it to his chest. "Shoot me!"

"I don't know what you're trying to prove, Cla..."

"Just do it!" He tightened Lex's limp fingers on the trigger, then squeezed. The report was loud, ringing in Lex's ears. But he saw it. He saw the bullet slide from under Clark's T-shirt, flattened, to the floor.

"Guards?" he choked, then took a bigger breath.

"Don't bother. They can't hurt me. But why call them?" He gripped Lex's shirt and shook him. "Do you think I'm going to kill you, Lex? I came here to give you what you wanted. So take it!"

"Sir!" The door rattled again.

He eyed Clark shrewdly. "Damn it, don't you dare come in here," he called out.

"You want to know Lex?" Clark backed away, moving to the ruins of his desk. He picked up the torn cord that had once gone to Lex's computer. "Do you want to know how I always get into your house?" He pressed the cord to his chest. Lights flickered, currents flashed and ran and burned holes in his shirt, but he still stood and pulled the cord away. "An electric fence is not going to stop me." He dropped it and moved up the stairs to the second level of the study. "You want to know how I survived that car crash?" He threw himself off, making a heavy dent in the floor, but getting to his feet, all the same. "Not even a scrape," he rasped, brushing splinters off him. "So now you know."

Lex sagged against the wall, dropping his useless gun. "And what do I know?" This felt like the moment, felt like all he'd wanted, but... Damn. It felt less than he imagined, somehow. Things like that usually did, but still...

Clark stared at him for long moment before he spoke. "You know what I am. A... a meteor freak," Clark choked out. "I'm... I'm one that can't be hurt. That's better, isn't it? Better than her. So let her go."

He felt himself perk up, then managed a shrug. "I'm at a loss, Clark. Let who go from wh..."

Clark moved closer and Lex was ashamed of how noticeably he flinched. "Chloe, Lex. You have no reason to keep her."

He widened his eyes and stood back, knowing Clark had an idea, but wanting to draw this out. It wasn't every day a man got all he wanted. He wanted it to measure up. Even though it wasn't so far, maybe it could. "Chloe's missing?"

"Don't you dare..."

"If she's been taken, maybe there's a good reason. She's a meteor mutant, Clark. She might..."

"What?" Clark gripped his collar again. "Heal too many people?"

"Do all of you freaks just know?" Lex sneered

"Stop it, Lex. You know you have no reason to keep her. Take me!"

Lex shook with the hands fastened to his lapels. Yes. He wanted Clark.

Clark let him go and stepped back, nodding his head backward to the doors. "You know they can't hurt a... a freak like me. You'll never take me down. I'll go willingly if you just... just let her go."

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

Week Three was supposed to be about stimuli and repsonse. Rorschach, electro-shock, hydro-therapy, IQ tests, behavior modification. Methods both mental and physical, old-fashoned and modern. Then he tested their limits. He liked to taylor everything to the person. For Chloe, he should have been having her heal paper cuts and quickly inflicted gashes to start. For Clark... maybe put him against a wall and see how many cars crashed into him before they left a bruise. He supposed he'd get there. But, for now, he'd keep watch. There was more to see.

So he tossed him in there with her.

That wasn't the deal, of course. But he found Clark amenable to compromise when he told him that Chloe Sullivan, wherever she may be, would probably only know freedom after Clark proved himself fully cooperative first. Clark didn't seem too fussed about changing the terms. But he made Lex promise to take him right to her. That wasn't even a question. Of course, he would. What else would he do with him?

But Clark was a fool if he thought Lex would just let her go. What leverage would he have, then? Against the man that couldn't be physically hurt?

But there was more to it than that. He felt strangely dissatisfied. So Clark was a freak. So was half the county, especially after the second meteor shower. And, speaking of that, there were holes. Sure, he now knew the mystery behind the car crash, but what about the caves? What about the Yukon and Chloe's strange appearance there? Maybe these things weren't about Clark alone. He had theories ranging from secret freak meetings to hive minds. The only thing he knew for sure was there was more. He'd find out more from Chloe and Clark, from what they said and didn't say. Between the two of them, they always seemed to be at the center of it all. One or the other had fucked up everything her ever tried to do and he damned well wanted to know why, how, and what the fuck made them so special.

So he made sure he was there to watch the monitors from the minute the doors closed behind Clark Kent.

Chloe had been half-asleep, not sedated yet as it was mid-afternoon, but sleeping was something she did more and more these days. It was getting fucking tiresome. But she was awake now. She nearly shot right out of bed when she saw him. Then she just threw herself right at him. Not surprising, from what Lex knew of her history of doing just that. She wound her arms around his neck and sobbed loudly into his shirt.

He frowned at that. Clark shouldn't have had his clothes on by now. Sure, he'd had him pat down for weapons, but he should be in a hospital gown after having been checked over by his doctors. That was the way it should go. But Clark had been so insistent about being taken right to Chloe that Lex had seen no way out of capitulating. It would be best to have him near Chloe so Lex could use her to keep him cooperative. He'd seen what Clark could survive up close now. He was sure none of his men could stop him leaving if he...

"Fucking hell," he breathed. What was to stop him now? He could leave this second. With Chloe. And Lex just took him right to her!

"Sir?"

He waved Jackson off and swallowed hard. That was ridiculous. Sure, Clark couldn't be hurt. But he could hardly break through metal and concrete with no leverage or height. "Nothing," he turned to his technician. "What's she saying?"

Platt shook his head. "Nothing. Just sobbing. Might be words. Too muffled."

Lex smirked. "We should have put her in with the others if she wanted something to cry about." This seemed to go on for some time, all the same, her sobbing unintelligibly into Kent's shirt and him making soothing noises that were equally unintelligible. Lex was dangerously close to having his men set off an alarm just to stop the damned thing when she finally pulled away, lifting her hand to his cheek as she sniffled. Lex leaned forward, waiting for words, anything that would open this up, some piece of the puzzle that made all the others click.

Her face changed, then. Her brows drew together, her cheeks reddened, her mouth drew into a taut line before it opened. "Clark, I told you..." She barely got out the sentence before Kent gripped her shoulders and sealed his mouth to hers.

Now that was definitely surprising.

Lex had his ideas about Kent and Sullivan, through the years. And they'd never really changed. Chloe dangled after Clark and Clark dangled after Lana. Though the fact that Clark needed Chloe was something Lex had recently discovered, it hadn't changed the facts as he knew them. Now he wondered if he'd had it wrong. Kent certainly wasn't letting her up for air.

Maybe absence had made the heart grow fonder and all that. How touching. Whether they'd kissed before or not, there was something so... new about this. The way they handled each other seemed careful and hesitant. At any rate, it was better to watch than tearful embraces.

Until it wasn't. In fact, it went on even longer than they had.

He had to admit, he'd become a little bored until the two had separated and Chloe, with a strangely determined look, had pulled him backward to the bed. He'd nearly sent his men out of the room as this seemed almost too... intimate for two men that didn't know them outside of their files. It was different for him to see more. He knew them, after all, even cared for them in a strange way. At the very least, he'd never rejoice at seeing them bruised and bloody and there weren't many people he could say that for. As it was, he didn't send the men out. He still needed them and, fact is, nothing seemed to change but their position from standing to sitting.

"Jesus!" Pratt pulled out a cigarette. "How long can two people make out?"

Lex rolled his eyes at Pratt. He kind of understood. With all the years between these two, maybe they were due for a nice, long kiss. He shook himself, wondering when he'd become so romantic.

"Think somebody would have grabbed at something by now," Jackson chuckled.

Lex wanted to send them out, then. They didn't get it. Sure, Clark's hands had remained on her waist as Chloe's stayed looped about his neck. In his position, Lex would probably have had her shirt off by now, but this was Clark. Whatever lies Lex had sensed over the years, his purity had never seemed an act. Lex sometimes wondered if he loved or hated that about him. Maybe both at once.

"Anyway, this one was raised on a farm in Kansas or something," Jackson pointed out.

"That's no excuse."

"Could the two of you shut up?" But as much as their talk cheapened things, they had a point. Not about Clark, but Chloe. She'd always seemed a little more forward, a little... wild, even. Tight skirts, tighter tops, emotions just barely held in check, a face that could be read so easily. Maybe Clark might hold himself in, but not Chloe. Something seemed off. "Zoom in," he barked. "Tight."

Pratt sat up straighter and did so. And, damn it...

"They're not kissing!" He supposed it looked like that, with their mouths pressed together. "They're whispering." Whispering and most likely planning and plotting and it pissed him the hell off. "I need more sound," Lex growled.

"The mics are as up as they go. I'd say get a lip reader, but it would be too obscured and..."

Lex's vision turned to red and he clapped Jackson on the shoulder, ready to tell him to break it up when Chloe jerked away from Clark.

"No! This isn't the way!"

"Chloe, it has to be." He tried to pull her back, but she beat at his chest.

"I told you not to! I told you every night!"

"Stop it," he hissed loudly, catching her hands in his. "Don't hurt yourself."

"But now..."

"Chloe, I'm not an idiot. Do you think I would be here if I..." Clark seemed to stifle himself, then, look around, as if remembering they must be watched. Lex supposed he wasn't a complete idiot, but he really wished he was.

They leaned in again, their voices muffled again. If Lex had any hair, he'd have torn it out by now. Luckily for him, Chloe pushed away again. "Why did you..."

"Not everything," Clark broke in. "I swear, Chloe. It was only enough. When they hear it..."

"I don't want this! Just get out now, Clark. Before they..."

"Not without you!"

"Clark," she moaned, her voice breaking. "Don't you know by now? After everything? Do you really think this isn't something I can get through... for you?"

His face softened. "I know by now. " He lifted one of the hands he was still holding to his face. "But it goes both ways, Chloe. That's something you should know by now."

Lex was sort of pleased by their sudden soulful confessions. If it should put them off their guard, then it was worth waiting through. Besides, he was still sifting through what they'd let out so far. All so damned vague except for one thing. I told you not to! I told you every night! he remembered her mumbling now. If he could get something to expound on that... Had she found some means of communicating with him? But how could she? He was starting to give his hive mind theory more weight when Chloe threw herself at Clark and Clark hit the floor. It was so sudden, he forgot to be disappointed they'd stopped talking. And they weren't. They weren't even whispering now.

This wasn't a pressing of lips with whispered breath and hands demurely settled. This was grasping and desperate and... riveting. Chloe writhed over him, sliding her hands down his chest and under his shirt. Clark seemed to flail for just a moment before he gripped her hips, then slid his hands over her ass, pressing her into him. Their hips undulated and their lips opened and their tongues tangled and harsh breaths and muffled moans fell on Lex's ears.

Jackson's voice cut in. "Sir? Should I..."

"Shhh!"

He'd often admonished the men over keeping the feed on the prettier girls... or boys... at shower time. It was trashy for his tastes. But now, he felt the draw.

He'd always wondered if he was a little perverted, as in more than the average man. The fact that he hadn't put a stop to this showed he might be if given free reign. There was no shame in wanting to see and he knew that even as he chastised his men. But he started to wonder if this was more than he should see. He knew them, after all, had known them for years. This was more than the visual violation of some stranger. But damned if he could look away.

Fuck her. Fuck her now, he nearly whispered as Clark rolled Chloe over, pressing his hips into her. His hands fisted in her gown and, though it was flimsy, it seemed too ready to tear under his hands. His eyes were drawn to Chloe's hands as they moved between them. He heard the click of a belt buckle and the slight rasp of a zipper.

He drew in a breath and backed to the wall, trying to get himself under control. He was no prude. He was wordly enough to admit that the idea of seeing Clark's cock excited him every bit as much as seeing the pert, full breasts he always imagined under Chloe's tight, little tops. But he knew his men didn't need to see him affected. "They're not saying anything," he said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "This is a waste of time."

Pratt chuckled. "But what a nice waste. Bet she has nice tits."

Lex glared at the man, ready to do more than toss him out now when Chloe seemed to stiffen under Clark, her eyes flying wide and darting about the room. "Clark... Clark, stop..."

Clark stilled and dropped his head to her chest. "Sorry. So sorry. I shouldn't..."

"Cameras," she gasped, trying to push him off.

"Oh... Yes. Sorry." His hands braced on either side of her, digging into the floor.

Lex figured this little peep show had to end sometime and was disappointed until he finally opened his eyes to the fact that Clark's fingers were in the fucking floor.

Snatches of conversations fell into place. Not everything. Lex supposed he didn't know half of it. Only enough. Enough to get Clark here. So he could get her out. Get out now. Clark could. Any man that could sink his fingers into stone like it was pudding could get out easily. But he hadn't.

What Clark did do was rise and pull Chloe up after him. They could leave this second. Nothing could stop Clark. But Clark hadn't thought of everything.

He pushed Jackson aside and reached for the intercom button, sweating now. "You should know that there are armed men all around this compound."

Clark looked around, as if searching out the camera, his eyes narrowed. "I know that."

"They might not be able to stop you, but do you really think Chloe would be able to survive a virtual hailstorm of bullets?"

"See?" She pushed at him. "I told you. Just go, Clark."

Lex smiled and punched the button again. "Yes. Go, Clark. I can't stop you. But you'll be leaving alone."

"Just shut up!" Chloe yelled. "Dear God, I was hoping for weeks to hear your voice, just to know for sure! Now I remember what a fucking prick you are!"

He had to smile. Damn it, he did like her when she wasn't sleeping.

"Anyway, he will be leaving alone," she shouted.

"No, I won't," Clark pulled her close. "I don't think there'll be any shooting, Lex." He had the nerve to smile. "In about two minutes, we'll be nicely escorted out."

"And what makes you think I'll let that happen?" he growled. "My men..."

"Not by your men, Lex. By the government. See, our conversation and your taking me, put together, made up an admission of guilt. We were recorded and we were followed and this place is surrounded by now."

"The government?" Lex backed away from the screen, letting out a shaky laugh.

Clark's eyes seemed to land on the right camera and they stayed. Lex nearly felt he could see him. "It's over, Lex."

He could hear that, hear the shouts from outside the walls, in the halls, the marching of many booted feet, twice over what he had.

Lex laughed in earnest now, mad barks escaping as his back hit the wall. "I guess it is. You little bastard."

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

Depending on who you ask, it was a happy ending.

He supposed the thirty-three harmless, happy meteor mutants who'd been set free were happy. Considering the facility housed 315, there was a greater number who weren't. But the government didn't see fit to divulge that part.

He supposed Chloe was happy. She had months and months of front page face time. After her initial expose where she finally got to use her "Crimes Against Humanity" headline, she wrote a series of articles interviewing every single freak, culminating in an exclusive interview with the brave meteor mutant who made it all happen, cloaked in anonymity of course.

As for that bravely anonymous freak, Clark seemed fairly happy with himself. Planting a digital recorder ahead of time, notifying his mother and using her government connections, making a sweet deal for himself where he exposed his invulnerability, though little else, in exchange for freeing that lucky thirty-three. Lex had to hand it to him. He wasn't as stupid as Lex originally thought. Of course, Clark also wasn't as clever as he himself thought, either.

Lex opened today's paper. Chloe had the headline again. More mutant rights drivel. With the initial hoopla over, she now spent her time campaigning for the rights of meta humans and writing scathing stories of corruption wherever she found them. He was surprised to see Clark's name at the bottom, indicating a human interest piece on board and care homes somewhere inside. How sweet. How pleased they must be with themselves. Living their little dreams, happy and safe with Lex tucked away in the nuthouse.

He gave a bitter chuckle. He wished he was in a nuthouse. It might have better service. "Jackson!"

Jackson marched in, looking annoyed. He was always annoyed, these days. He was used to controlling an operation, not a penthouse. Maybe Lex should take pity on him, send him off to be with General Standen's men at the new compound in Scarsdale. But why do that? Then again, why not? Lex thought he might be getting a bit soft these days. The tropics tended to do that to a man.

"Are the damned satellites back online yet? The storm was hardly a shower and I'm missing breakfast!"

Jackson looked down at the coffee Lex had barely touched yet. "You said you didn't want breakfast at this ungodly..."

"Not mine, you idiot, theirs! Tell them to hurry up. I need to see what they do."

"Yes, Sir."

"And get me Doctor Weil."

He wheeled his chair up to his console, absently gulping at his coffee. He was expecting some kind of smug celebration. It wasn't every day Clark got his first byline.

Yes, he was sure they were happy.

And Lex? Well, he couldn't complain. He always had a Plan B. Granted, it was no Plan A, but it would do. In exchange for taking the fall, being denounced as no better than a mad scientist, and losing control of his company (at least publicly), he had control of something better. Not of the whole operation. In the end, it had gotten rather tedious, housing the invisibles, mind-readers, and bug men. The government could have them, even with his continued funding. He had Clark Kent.

He supposed, if the government knew what they were giving him, in letting him handle Kent and Sullivan, they might not have been so willing. Fact is, he'd have preferred to find a way to keep them in the compound and silence the whole thing. But Senator Martha Kent had started raising such a public stink before they even marched on Lex that the government couldn't afford the bad press. Also, he'd had no idea how to stifle Clark that night. He didn't know what he knew now.

He had to laugh, much as he had that night four years ago, at Clark's naivete. Did he really think a man could house over three hundred freaks without any government cooperation? It just showed what a little farm boy Clark was and always would be. Even under the lies and all he hid, that much was true.

Chloe wasn't quite as gullible. She spent that first week urging Clark to run away, telling him the government would never let him stay free, telling him something was strange. But nothing happened and Clark seemed to convince her his mother had pulled some strings and, really, she seemed seduced in the end by having everything she ever wanted... and by Clark.

"Back online with your little reality show," Jackson called irritably from the door.

"Fuck you," Lex said, turning on his monitors.

"Back at you, Sir."

He chuckled, thinking it was a bit like a reality show, and reminded himself not to reassign Jackson. Of course, if the world had this, nobody would even look twice at a Kardashian. The special effects alone made it worth tuning in for. He'd bet twitter would have exploded the first time Clark floated to the ceiling.

He hadn't exactly missed breakfast. They were making waffles. Seemed like they'd burn, though, with Clark pounding away at her on the floor. They had a certain kink for the floor which Lex found amusing, considering he saw the first instant of it. Waffles didn't sound bad, actually.

"Jackson, radio Mrs. Espinosa and tell her to make waffles. And, damn it, get me Doctor Weil before I..."

"Weil texted. Said he'd phone in later. But they implanted her with the last viable hybrid at her last dentist appointment."

Lex turned away from the rather enthusiastic couple. "And did it take?"

"He..."

"No. Don't tell me." He waved Jackson away. He didn't want to know too much, after all. Then what would be the point in watching?

And Lex had been watching. He'd been there when they toasted his downfall. Chloe, slightly drunk on champagne and Clark -- Well, Lex knew by then he couldn't be drunk --- surely overcome, had finally tore at each others clothes and fell to the floor together, moaning and writhing.

He'd been there when they finally said they loved each other, months later. It took many visits from him to her and from her to him, all of which consisted of hours of talking endlessly about this friendship they didn't want to ruin and all of which ended in a frantic fuck they said they'd never repeat... every time.

He'd been there when they signed the lease on the apartment they were in danger of burning down even now. Been there when they decided to do away with Chloe's apparently useless birth control, planting the seed of his latest endeavor.

In between, there was always intrigue. This little gang of Clark that fancied themselves so heroic made a few appearances, but Lex relegated them to guest star status in his mind. He was sure someone would find it all very interesting and often thought of tipping off General Standen to what was going on under his nose. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Let them have their fun. As long as he was there.

"You might be having a baby," he whispered to the oblivious couple as they giggled and wiped batter off each other's hastily straightened clothes. "I wonder if you'll say this is when it happened. Probably going to be a shock, but I'm sure you'll be happy."

As long as they were in his control. Always tightly in his control.

The End

Notes:

Yes. I am aware of the blatant homoeroticism in everything Clark and Lex have said to each other in this fic.

As far as happy or tragic, I opted for a bit of both :) Chlark are certainly happy. But so is our evil mastermind.

Before Sunset (Part Seven)

2011-10-17T04:41:00.000-07:00

She wasn't sure what to do with the flashlight, as if the thing growling before her might take some offense, but she'd kind of like to see what was about to eat her.

She lifted the beam and kind of wished she hadn't. A wolf. Black and white and teeth all over. She let out a mad breath of laughter, thinking of the old joke about newspapers, then about newspapers in general, then about The Daily Planet, then about college and how she hoped she could earn her way back there and how now she never would and her journalistic career hit its pinnacle with a column she never felt quite right about having and how...

"Yeeeeahhhhh!"

She shrieked and dropped the flashlight as a noise even more startling than the growl sounded to her left. It was closely followed by a streak of flame and more unintelligible yells. The only thing that kept her from running for the inky black hills was that it sounded like it was human.

"Shooo! Go on! Get out!"

It also sounded like it was Clark, shooing away a wolf like it was a squirrel.

She dropped to the snow and fumbled for the flashlight, only lifting it in time to see the wolf running off, whining into the distance.

"You okay?" She lifted the beam and Clark stood, his back to her, a burning branch in his hand, looking after the wolf. He turned, then shielded his eyes, dropping the branch into the snow where it sizzled slightly. She hardly had time to answer before he started talking. "I'm sorry. I know I was supposed to stay back, but I just walked out a little. And I kept my distance. I didn't see anything. Well... maybe that wolf, but I..." He stopped with a slight grunt, possibly because she'd launched herself at his chest. She didn't remember planning to do it, but she suddenly saw him, not just now, but always...

Pulling her out of a coffin. God only knew how... Touching her face in the barn... Holding her as The Torch's office burned around them...

So many times. So many times he'd saved her and it was really hitting her now. "It's always you. Every time," she breathed, tightening her arms around his middle. Even without a superhero's abilities, even in the cold, even when she told him not to, even with a flashlight squashed between them, Clark Kent made her feel so safe.

"I take it you're not mad." She felt his shaky hands on her back and opened her eyes. He was shaking. She wasn't doing much better.

"Frustrating as it is, I can never stay mad at you." She pulled back slightly and grasped the flashlight, then tugged on his arm. "Come on. We should get back. Keep our claim on that thing's house."

"You think it was his?"

"I kind of hope so. Unless there's something bigger lying in wait." She wished she hadn't said it. This day had gone from hope to despair easily enough without her adding more fear to the fire. The fire was dimming as they neared the cave and she sped forward, tossing more wood in. "I hope that thing doesn't come back. I don't think we can keep this going through the night." She sat down, cross-legged before it.

"We can keep it going as long as we can, then toss the rest in before we go to sleep." Clark sat next to her and held his hands out.

"And if it dies during the night?"

"We either get attacked by a wild animal, which we'd be pretty powerless to prevent. Or freeze."

"Which we're also pretty powerless to prevent."

"Not really. We'll be fine if we could just get warm, then stay insulated."

"And how do we do that?"

"Ideally, we'd be in a sleeping bag, surrounded by cushiony softness."

She glanced to her right. "Is ratty old blanket a good substitution?"

"It'll have to do." He frowned. "I just wish it was bigger, so we could have something on the ground as well, because a lot of the cold will be coming from there."

She frowned into the fire. This was looking grim. "Do you think we should eat... dinner?" She refrained from calling it their last meal.

Clark shook his head. "Probably should save it for morning. We'll need more strength to keep walking, with those hills ahead, than to just go to sleep."

"You're right." She glanced at the blanket. She was through putting this off. "The sooner we sleep, the sooner we know if we made it or not." She stood, working at the buttons on her jacket.

"What are you doing?"

She spread her jacket on the ground. "Last night, I heard being naked and sharing the same covering generates heat." She toed off her shoes and kicked them aside. "You said that yourself. With our clothes on the bottom and the blanket on top, we're about as close to insulated as we'll get."

"Well... I know that, but today we talked about... lines and... and blurring and I don't want to..."

"And you won't. This doesn't blur anything. It's just what we have to do." She grasped the hem of her shirt. "Turn around, Clark. And strip."

He swallowed hard, then stood, turning.

She turned as well, reluctantly.

"I think you should be on the side nearest the fire," he said, rustling behind her.

"Why? Because I'm the girl? Chivalry noted, Clark, but no."

"No. Just... You're smaller and..."

"I think the both of us share equal potential to freeze to death. Besides," she stepped out of her pants, feeling both the fire and the cold that blew over it, "I think we should have our feet nearest to the fire. If our extremities stay warm, the rest should follow," she said, glad she'd read that article again. Extremities. Movement. Naked. Insulated. With their combined knowledge, they might live through another night. She tossed what was left of her clothes to the ground behind her, shivering. "I'm going to turn and straighten out my clothes and keep my eyes down."

"Uh... Me, too."

She kept her eyes on the packed dirt floor and on their clothes and the hands arranging those clothes that sometimes brushed and pulled away. It was torture. She didn't want to look. And she did. It wasn't even about Clark's body, though... Yeah. It was a whole other torturous factor. It was because now, going over how many times he'd saved her life... Well, it could take a schoolgirl crush to a whole new level. It was hard to think about lines and boundaries with such a guy.

This was definitely torture. It didn't change the fact that they still had to do what was necessary to survive.

"Could you turn around again?" she choked out. She kept her eyes on his feet, then turned, grabbing the blanket. She laid down over their clothes and pulled the blanket over herself. "I'm in."

He didn't answer, but she felt him slide in behind her. She felt a hand brushing her shoulder as he settled the blanket over them.

She could feel him shaking behind her, even without any direct contact. She could feel the cold air creeping under the edge of the blanket and scooted back slightly, tucking it under her. He inched back behind her, keeping his body away. She knew why. She knew now no healthy 18-year-old guy could go through this and not be cursed with a reaction. She had one, too. The fact that she was freezing didn't completely override sharp tingles that raced through her insides because she was naked and he was naked and he was gorgeous and had saved her life more times than she could count and... She decided to adopt Clark's idea -- ignore it in the hopes that it would go away. She wasn't thinking straight. Who could when it was so cold?

"Are you asleep?" she whispered.

"No. I'm too busy freezing." His teeth chattered slightly with a hissed in breath. "But you're right about the feet. They feel warm. I keep waiting for the rest of me to get the message."

"I don't know. Give it a minute. I read it in some article. It kept going on about keeping your feet and hands warm and moving a lot."

"So if we just sleep while touching our toes, we'll be fine."

She chuckled. "No. We should be sleep-jogging over hot coals with woolen mittens."

"Don't talk about mittens. I think it makes my hands colder." He shuffled behind her and something that felt like an ice cube brushed her back.

She jumped. "Jesus! You're hands are freezing." She turned over. "You're supposed to fold your arms or something. Tuck them in."

"Well, I don't know these little tricks. I never had cold hands until yesterday."

"Here." She reached between them for his hands, rubbing them between hers. She pulled them up to breathe on them.

He closed his eyes. "Chloe... What are you doing?"

"I'm creating friction." She kept rubbing. "What? You did this for me last night."

"Well, that's different." He started to pull his hands away.

She held on. "Is this some macho thing where you can't admit when you need help?"

He opened his eyes. "I don't think I should be accepting this kind of help from you again."

She abruptly let his hands go. "This isn't that kind of help."

"Tell that to certain parts of me. This is hard enough." He winced slightly. "And you touching me while you're naked doesn't make it any easier."

"This isn't exactly easy for me," she hissed. "But whatever's going on down there, it's more important that we actually live through the night. So just... deal with it." She grasped his hands between hers and moved closer. "If we keep our hands between us, they'll stay warmer."

"Is this from your article?" he sneered.

"No. I just think it makes sense," she said tersely, losing patience now.

"And I just think you're being a little too casual about this. You're the one who went on about lines and boxes, well I have lines, too. And here's one of them." He pulled his hands upward, freezing as he grazed her breast.

The both of them locked eyes, stopped breathing.

He spoke first. "Chloe, I can't do this."

"You think I can?" She sat up, frustration overriding common sense. "This sucks for both of us, you know. I'm scared and I'm tired and I'm hungry and I'm freezing." She shivered violently and looked down. She'd kind of forgot she was naked for a minute. Her breasts were bare and covered in gooseflesh. He was looking at them, too, his eyes sort of glazed. She gingerly crossed an arm over her breasts. "We've been teetering on the edge of death all day. There are bigger things than whether we... touch." She stared down at his chest, partially uncovered by the dislodged blanket. "There might not be a tomorrow," she whispered, frozen by the idea of that and the sight of him until she felt his hand on her shoulder.

He tugged her down and pulled the blanket over them, his eyes still strange and half-lidded. "I'm sorry," he said in a choked voice. "Let's just go to sleep." The hand that had been settling the blanket landed on her waist. "I can do this." He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I can."

She stared at his closed eyes, his open lips. I'll regret doing this. I'll regret not doing this, she thought in the split-second before she settled her hand on his chest. His eyes shot wide. "I don't think I can," she breathed before leaning into him.

"Chloe..." He pulled back. "If you do this..."

"There really might not be a tomorrow, Clark." Was that an excuse? Probably. But, to her mind, it was a good enough one to slide her leg up his, settling over his hip. She snaked her other hand around his neck and pulled his head down.

"No," he growled, catching her wrists. She closed her eyes and waited for him to push her away, but he didn't.

Or he did. But he rose up over her, pinning her wrists on either side of her head before he leaned down, catching her lips.

PREVIOUS PART

PART EIGHT

Before Sunset (Part Six)

2011-10-17T04:04:00.000-07:00

She stared ahead, shivering. Clark drew up next to her and she turned her head slightly. "Should we?"

"I don't know. It's a cave."

"I don't think we have other options right now." She glanced up. The sky was darkening. "I'm just concerned it's someone else's home or..." She shuddered slightly. "Something else's."

"Nothing else is home. If it was, it hasn't been home for days."

She squinted and faced him. "How do you know that?" For a moment, she wondered if his powers weren't all gone. If he had some way of sensing...

"No tracks," he said, gesturing to the mouth of the cave. "It's not like they've been covered. There was no fresh snowfall."

"Good eye." She turned back to the cave, breathing between her hands, wondering if she'd make a reporter out of him yet. She still wasn't moving. Neither was Clark. "Maybe we should keep holding out for something better."

"No. You're right. We don't have much choice. We have no way of knowing if we'll find anything else before it gets dark and... even colder." He started ahead, then turned back as she stayed still.

"See, but that's a nice enough cave. Odds are something calls it home and I kind of don't want to be there if it comes back from vacation."

"Come on." Clark grasped her arm. "We still have time to gather more branches," he said, walking her toward it. "If we start a big enough fire at the mouth, maybe whatever it is will decide to extend the vacation a little."

"Wait." She held the blanket and dug inside. She pulled out the flashlight and turned it on after a few fumbles with numb fingers. "Okay," she choked out. They crept forward, her shining the light almost steadily.

"Come on. There's nothing in here," Clark said next to her, giving her a nudge.

She stepped forward, calming down slightly... until she heard the dull crunch. "I wouldn't say that." She shined the flashlight downward, but kept her eyes forward. "Please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

She felt Clark crouch down next to her. "It's just bones."

"That's what I thought it was," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"They're tiny. Probably a rabbit or something."

"That makes it better."

"Here." She felt him take the flashlight. There was a series of dragging sounds, before she felt him next to her again, out of breath. "There. I think I kicked most of them out." A colder hand touched her cold face. "Chloe, we're fine. You're not gonna start freaking out on me now."

"No. I'm good." She opened her eyes and tried to smile. "It's just... I was really hoping we'd be getting something with a door tonight."

"Guess we lucked out with that shack." He shined the light around.

"It's a tourist hotspot compared to this."

"It's not so bad. I mean, it's c-cover. And, like I said, we can build the f-fire up in the mouth."

"Like a burning door of flame." Strangely, it sounded comfy rather than dangerous. She sighed and put the bundle down. "Okay. Done whining. We should go for more branches."

"No. I'll go. You get the fire started."

"Clark, despite the whining, you happen to be colder than I am. So you can get the fire started and I'll--"

"I can carry more," he said quickly, tossing her the flash light. "Be right back."

She fumbled to catch it as he moved away quickly. It was reason number 587 to be crazy about Clark Kent. Chivalrous to a fault. She frowned and pulled out their meager bunch of sticks, cradling the flashlight between her neck and shoulder. Her eyes lit on the jar as she piled the branches and doused them slightly, eying the tiny bit of jerky left rattling around in it. It wouldn't last them much longer. Wasn't there some kind of edible tree bark? It sounded only slightly worse than beef jerky, which was so salty and made her so disgustingly parched, she'd kill for a stream or even a dingy brook. Anything with water in all this...

She snorted aloud. What do you think all this white stuff is, Sullivan? She was as bad as Clark, calling out for water when his pants were burning. She stared hard at the jar, then dropped a match on the napkin between the sticks. They still had a few more napkins to wrap the jerky in. She blew on the fire, wanting it to start already so she could get started on her brilliant plan.

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

Clark could hardly see his own tracks through the forest he was currently carrying, but it had to be enough to get through the night. He even felt slightly warmer, having moved so fast, zig-zagging through the trees. For a minute, it had felt like... No. Not like before. If he were anything like before they wouldn't be fighting for life in a frozen wilderness. They'd be at his house, toasting their near escape with cocoa. He made a note of that scenario. If they got out of this, it was nearly the first thing they'd do.

As it was, they were hoping for one more night alive. Maybe he should have let Lex find her. Despite his suspicions, he knew Chloe would be okay right now. Where he'd be, he didn't know. It had been all too close to sunset even when he'd left Smallville. Still, he wished he hadn't dragged Chloe with him. She'd be warm and dry, not scared and shivering in a cave. He saw it ahead, a mild glow through the branches. He picked up speed, shedding branches, but unable to slow. He'd never been so happy to see snow and rock in his life. He dropped his load at the mouth, feeling a bit like the proud hunter coming home to... no one.

"Chloe?" He looked around. There was something worse than the idea of her shivering in a cave right now. "Chloe!"

"I'm right here," he heard to his left. He turned, feeling the breath return to his body as she came from behind a tree, holding a branch and a jar of snow. "Clark, I had the best--"

"I told you, I'd get the branches," he said, moving to her. "You were supposed to stay put."

Her eyes widened. "Stay put?"

"I didn't mean it like that. But it's almost dark. You shouldn't be--"

"Clark, just because we're in a cave doesn't mean you get to play caveman."

"Don't turn this around." he stalked back along his tracks, picking up his fallen branches. "I said I'd get the wood. You're the one who went gallivanting around..."

"Gallivanting?" she snorted. "Does anyone under seventy use that word? Are you an old man now?"

"Older than you, apparently." He finished gathering and moved back to his pile.

"Just for that," she said, on his heels, "I have a good mind not to let you in on my brilliant idea."

He kicked his pile inward. "Fine. What's so brilliant you had to--"

"Say sorry first."

He pursed his lips. "Okay. I'm so sorry I was worried you got chased into the woods and I'd never see you again. From now on, I'll be totally unconcerned about whether you live or die."

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have to do that? Make yourself right all the time. I only stepped away for one second and it was only because I had a brilliant idea."

He sighed. "What's this..."

"No. Say sorry without the guilt trip now."

He blew out a steamy breath. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"And I'm sorry I scared you." She grinned. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you gonna ask?"

He groaned. "What's your idea?"

"My brilliant idea," she corrected. "And I'm glad you asked." She sidestepped the fire and moved into the cave. "While looking at our teensy store of food in this giant glass jar, I realized we were wasting a valuable resource. This here ordinary jar could be used to turn snow magically into water." She held it over the fire. The snow packed inside turned clear and liquid. "See? Just like magic."

He sat down next to her, tossing a few more branches into the fire. "Neat idea."

"Not just neat. Brilliant."

"But won't it get hot in your hands or... burst?" He moved forward, suddenly concerned.

"Not if I hold it high enough over the flames. As for the hands..." She sat back and held up a forked branch. "This ordinary branch is not just pleasing to look at, it hold our jar like so." She rested the closed top of the jar between the branches and sat back further. "I feel kind of like Mr. Wizard right now."

Clark sat back slightly, feeling a smile for the first time in days.

She glanced sideways at him. "What?"

"Nothing." he shrugged, then shivered. "It is a brilliant idea. I guess I'm just glad you're back to normal." He held his hands to the fire. "You seemed so squeamish before. It wasn't like you."

"Well, we were about to make our beds in a cave full of rabbit corpses. I think squeamish is a normal reaction."

"Not from you. You've been right next to me through some things that would make anyone freak out without even a whimper."

"Well..." She chuckled slightly. "That's the weird and wacky. Nature gives me a whole other set of heebie-jeebies." She tilted her head. "Even after five years in God's country, I'm still a city girl. Closest I got to camping was a pop tent behind my brownstone with Lois when I was ten. My dad checked on us every half-hour with snacks."

"So you have roughed it," he said, nudging her elbow.

"Not even. We were in hours before bed time."

"Well, you're doing fine now." He touched her arm. "Chloe, I don't think I would have got through this without you."

She held his gaze for a moment before pulling her eyes away with a laugh. "Just for that, you get the next batch." She pulled her branch back and set the jar down. "Warning -- it tastes a little beefy, but I'm trying to imagine it's bouillon." She shrugged, "I kind of already had two of the early attempts." She rubbed her hand on her leg. "And the burns to prove it. And I'm kind of feeling it now." She placed her hand to her stomach.

He stopped short of opening the jar. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing." She stood. "I'll be right back."

"Chloe, if you feel sick--"

"I'm not sick, Clark." She looked at the ground between them. "I just have to use nature's bathroom. Okay?"

"Oh." He shook his head. "Alright. I'll come keep watch." He started to stand, but felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't you dare."

"But it's dark."

She bent over and grabbed the flashlight. "And I have this."

"Well, I should at least stand off to the side and make sure--"

"Clark Kent, if you stand off to the anywhere and listen to me pee, I will never speak to you again." She clicked the flashlight on. "I'll be fine. You just sit there and drink your... beef water."

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

Chloe marched off, stopping once to make sure he hadn't followed. He was still sitting there, sipping from the jar now. She went a deeper into the trees, just in case he got some idea about following. After a night naked with him, she'd prefer to keep some things mysterious. And her squatting to urinate should definitely stay unseen.

She leaned against a tree and worked at her pants, squeezing the flashlight under her arm. She wished she were a guy right now. When Clark felt the call of nature, all he'd have to do is unzip. But she had to balance against a tree, while trying to lean far enough back that nothing touched her clothes. Between periods, childbirth and squatting urination... Why did women have to have everything so hard? At moments like this, she could nearly put stock in the idea of Eve's original sin, drummed into her during her early years at St. Margaret's. Because this just had to be a punishment.

She finally untensed as she finished, pulling herself up and her pants along with her. As she buttoned up, the flashlight nearly slipped and she caught it with a slight... growl?

That couldn't be right.

The flashlight wavered in her grasp as something glowed ahead of her. Two somethings. Gleaming in the beam with another growl, this one definitely not from her...

PREVIOUS PART

PART SEVEN

Before Sunset (Part Five)

2011-10-17T03:54:00.000-07:00

"This isn't something I can repay. Unless you want me to... to try."

Chloe sputtered slightly, a sound that was half-choke, half-gasp escaped her mouth. "Wha... I... You..." She let out a nervous laugh and stepped back, dislodging his hands. "Clark, I only just... I mean, that was just to help you out."

He stepped forward. "Yeah. But I didn't think about if you needed... help, maybe."

"Me? I..." He hands fluttered for a moment before she jammed them into her pockets. "I don't really need that kind of help. It's... It's different, me doing it for you. If you did it, that would be... different," she finished on a shaky note.

"Why?" He took another step.

Because if I give you an orgasm, you just walk away with an orgasm. If you give me one, I'll never walk away at all. But she couldn't say that. Not now. Not when it looked like they might live through this. Not when she knew Lana was waiting for him. She wasn't blind. She knew what was coming and she refused to get in any deeper. She'd only just accepted that she was his friend and that was all. She wasn't about to throw a year of hard work in the toilet. She stiffened, putting on a smile. "Thanks for the offer, Clark, but I really don't need that kind of help. I mean, really." She laughed slightly.

His brows drew together. "But this morning... I thought you felt..."

"Clark, I just took a few minutes to help you out because you had morning wood. I personally don't see it as any different from me massaging a knot in your neck. I just relieved the pressure so we could get down to business. I don't need you to return the favor because... Well, that's just it. I really don't. I'm good." She kept her smile fixed.

"Oh. Okay." He stared at the ground, then moved back to the log.

She unscrewed her smile and exhaled, relieved yet kicking herself. She did it again. She squandered the moment. It seemed the only way she could ever act on her feelings for Clark was when there was no tomorrow. And maybe that was best. Their tomorrow might have rescue and home and Lana. She couldn't...

"Wait just a second," he said, shooting up again.

She jumped slightly, not sure whether to paste her smile back on or look mildy disinterested.

He took two steps toward her. "Chloe, I may not have much direct experience with... this kind of stuff. But I have picked up the odd magazine and video. You can't tell me you weren't..."

She looked down. "Clark, let's let it go and keep moving. Please."

"No. Why can't you admit it?" He took another step.

Her eyes widened as they fixed on the ground at his feet. "Clark?"

"I may have had a more visible reaction..."

"Clark, your pa..."

"But I felt you. You were..."

She pointed. "Pants on fire."

"No. Yours are. And that's real mature, Chloe." He threw his hands up. "We're eighteen now. Can't we have a grown-up conversat..."

"Clark," she cut in, yelling now. "Your pants are on fire!"

"What?" He looked down, then quickly took his foot away from the fire. "Oh, God!" He shook his leg frantically. "We don't have any water. What..."

She ran at him, toppling him to the snow, smothering his leg in it. She leaned over him, shaking off the scare for a second before brushing the snow off his leg. She hurriedly shoved up his pant leg. "It's okay," she panted. "I think your hair got singed, but the jeans took the worst of it." She pulled them down again. There were charred holes up and down the side. She turned to face him. He was leaning up on his elbows and strangely silent for a guy who wouldn't let her speak a moment ago and she wondered if she'd knocked the wind out of him. "Clark? Are you okay?"

He gave a jerky nod, then looked down and she noticed their position. She was between his legs and her other hand was damned near his fly. "You might want to move that," he said roughly. "I don't think I can accept any more help."

She gingerly pulled it away and scooted back, hugging her knees and staring at him as he sat up.

He glanced at her once before, brushing at his leg. "Thank you, by the way, for saving most of my pants." He frowned, picking at the charred bits as the silence grew between them. "Chloe, I don't know what to make of this morning. Maybe... Maybe you're right. I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't make anything of it. You want me to let it go. So I'll just let it go."

She felt strangely sad. She didn't want to let it go. Not really. She just felt she should, even that she had to. But would she look back on this as another squandered moment? Probably. So maybe she should make it count. But not like this morning. Not as some way to service her libido and damn the consequences. She'd make this count the right way.

"I'll admit it," she said softly. "I didn't touch you as some selfless gesture of friendship. I touched you because I... I couldn't not touch you. I didn't think we'd get through this and I wanted, just once, to touch you in every way I know I shouldn't. But now there is a tomorrow. The world isn't ending and I know what that means for us. It means we go home and everything will be as it was." She took a deep breath. "Clark, it's no secret that I have trouble keeping my feelings for you in the friend box. But after a couple days making a fool of myself on, for lack of a better word, meteorade, I spent all year trying to accept that friendship is all there will ever be between us. And that's a lot of work to be thrown away by blurring the boundaries now." She looked up finally. He was staring back, but silent. "Maybe things got a little hazy back there, but I don't think we should let it happen again. One of us will end up hurt." She smiled sadly. "And experience has taught me who."

She stood, brushing the snow off her bottom. "And now my butt's soaked." She gave a laugh. "Next time I bare my soul, remind me to do it standing."

He stood as well, brows drawn together and lips parted in the classic Clark Kent look of guilt and confusion.

"Clark, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. What happened back there was my call. I just need you to understand why I want you to let it go." She turned and kicked some snow on what was left of their fire, then squared her shoulders. "We should keep moving south."

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

Clark didn't know what to think. He wasn't sure he was supposed to be thinking about this at all. He should be letting it go.

That didn't mean he was.

Clark, it's no secret that I have trouble keeping my feelings for you in the friend box.

No. Not a secret. Chloe's feelings were something that always hung over their friendship. Like a pendulum. He tried to say they weren't there, but that pendulum sometimes dropped just a little, reminding him that he'd better watch it. And not just because of her. But because of him. Because sometimes he bathed in those moments when she held his stare. Sometimes he wondered what she was seeing. And sometimes that stare made him wonder if there could be more to them.

But there was always Lana. He'd always wanted Lana. Going back to the sandbox, Lana was always... He couldn't think of a word for her. She was just so... Lana.

Chloe, he had words for. She was sometimes maddening, always looking at him so shrewdly, as if she saw right through him and his flimsy excuses and made up stories. She was sometimes downright scary, the leaps she made that, to most people would seem crazy. He'd often act like they were, though as someone who lived a life that was defined by strange, he always thought she might be right. And she usually was. He was always terrified she'd be right about him one day. That she'd dig just a little too deep and expose him like every other freak in town. It added another layer of tension to a friendship that always was like walking a tightrope.

He groaned inwardly. Pendulum. Tightrope. Pick a metaphor.

But she knew. She'd known for some time and never exposed him. It changed things.

To me, you're more than just a hero. You're a super hero.

Just two sentences and he no longer feared her quest for truth. Just twelve words and they were all he needed to hear. They told him that she didn't blame him. They told him that she'd never expose him. Even now that there was nothing to expose, he still felt this comfort in her words.

Chloe had a way with words. She always had.

I touched you because I... I couldn't not touch you. I didn't think we'd get through this and I wanted, just once, to touch you in every way I know I shouldn't.

God, did she.

And there was the other side of that tightrope... pendulum... whatever.

He was more confused then ever because somewhere in the middle of all this, she'd become his best friend. Somewhere between being on the trail of whatever misguided mutant was terrorizing the town and chatting in the Torch Office at sunset, she'd become someone who mattered too much. He remembered when Lionel took over his body. How it hurt that she was so cold to him for a week. How his day had changed without her in it. And now that she knew, now that he knew she knew and that she accepted him no matter what...

Did he want to throw that away because he'd never wanted to touch anyone back so badly in his life?

He stopped, eyes widening. Backing up until he hit something. One hands groped behind him, feeling rough bark as he heard a dull thunk. A tree. He leaned back against it. In his life?

Was that true? That couldn't be true. Despite his previous state as an alien, he was much like any guy. Girls and what could be done to them and with them pretty much blinked in and out of his mind like a dirty flash card. But he had values. He had a mom and a dad that, through some very awkward lectures, had drummed those values into his head. With words like maturity, responsibility, and respect for women echoing in his mind, he was always able to reign it in and do the right thing. Which was usually nothing at all.

So why was it so much harder right now? This was Chloe. Why couldn't he keep his eyes off her slightly wet bottom, which was really sort of rounded. As far as butts went, he'd never exactly thought about his preference before. But rounded was nice. Her pants weren't exactly tight, but they hugged her just underneath and he wondered what a handful of her would feel like... She was turning around. He tensed before his body sort of sagged against the tree and his eyes settled on her front. That was okay, too. Her jacket only buttoned just below her breasts and he'd be a liar if he said he hadn't thought about a preference for breasts. But it was mostly that they had to exist. Small ones, big ones... Being able to look through the paper bags and even pages of the Hustlers and Playboys behind the convenience store counter had shown him his share. But hers were the first he'd seen up close. And he didn't need X-ray vision to know they were somewhere just in between. Not too big. Not too small. Just right. Just enough to fill his hands as he gripped her from behind, pulled her back against him, ground himself into that round....

"Clark?" He blanched, pulling his eyes up to her face. She was in front of him now. When did that happen? Maybe somewhere between ogling her breasts and having dirty thoughts of tossing her up against the very tree he was trying to disappear into."What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He shook himself and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He wasn't sure he'd succeeded as her brows drew together and she bent down. he nearly thought this was some extension of his dirty meanderings until she straightened, hefting the tied blanket over her shoulder.

"Maybe you're tired. I can take this for a bit." She tossed the lantern base into his hand and he grabbed it on the second try.

"Okay. I'm fine."

She nodded and turned again.

"Nothing's wrong," he called to her back.

And that was the worst part. He could tell himself it was wrong all he wanted, but it didn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, really wrong, fantasizing about her, remembering everything she wanted him to drop. But nothing about that moment felt wrong. Her hand on him, her breath on his neck, then her mouth, then her teeth... Then it was all bliss and bursting stars. The only thing that felt wrong was when she moved away, tossing his clothes at him and ignoring him.

He clutched the cold glass and moved along behind her. Maybe it was just because it was the furthest he'd ever got. He'd never exactly had an assisted orgasm. Maybe he was blinded by hormones. Maybe he needed to cool off. He stopped and stared at the snow piled slightly higher at the base of a tree, tempted to shove some of it down his pants.

"Clark?" He looked up. She was moving back to him again. "Clark, I don't want to lose you."

He took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you, either," he said, thinking she had a point. He'd only just found her, in a way. He now knew what kind of person she really was. Not just some cold truth-seeker, bent on exposing the weird and unexplained. She was a loyal friend. "I can't lose you." I have to stop this!

She tilted her head. "Good. Then we're agreed. Neither of us want to wander the forest alone. So... Look I know you're tired. I know all this is harder when you haven't felt the cold before. But you need to keep up."

He shook himself, feeling the cold again and finally getting what she was talking about. He nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'll keep up." He took the knapsack from her hands and noted the shaking of them. He resolved to stop this once for all. There were more important things to focus on. He looked up. "It's getting darker. We probably can't even stop to eat now. We need to get to shelter before sunset."

PREVIOUS PART

PART SIX

Before Sunset (Part Four)

2011-10-16T06:51:00.000-07:00

PART FOUR

What am I doing? What the hell am I doing?

"Chloe... what are you... doing?"

She'd wondered if her thoughts were echoing (though in a deeper voice) until she saw it was Clark, eyes as big as saucers, grunting out the words.

Jerking off her best friend. That was what she was doing. Easy enough to answer. The real question was why she was doing it.

She couldn't exactly think too heavily on that. All she knew was that she had to. He was naked and his body was warm and they might not be alive tomorrow and she couldn't squander this moment by not touching him, closing her fingers around him, pulling gently as his eyes went from wide to shut, his breath coming in soft pants that stirred her hair.

This was crazy. This was completely unjustifiably insane. As the sleep left her body, she realized that more fully. But she'd be damned if that would stop her from helping him.

"Shhh. Just let me help you," she whispered.

"Chloe... you... you don't... have to..."

But I do. There was still that overwhleming feeling that she had to. He'd never help himself, as embarrassed as he was. Then again, she'd be lying to herself if she said this was just for him. If they got out of this and she remembered this moment, she'd always wonder what would have happened if she took him in her hand, stroked him, felt him shake against her.

She put her other hand against his chest. He was shaking now.

Maybe this was a mistake. But it was a mistake she had to make. Because, if they didn't get out of this, this would just be one of the many squandered, wasted moments that summed up her friendship with Clark -- a friendship that always teetered on the edge of... something else.

"How can I make it up to you?" he'd asked, apologizing for leaving her at the Spring Formal.

"Actually, you know, I've been thinking. It's funny how a natural disaster puts your life in perspective, but I think that it might be better if we just stayed really good friends. Anything other than that just gets too complicated."

Even in the middle of her spiel, she wondered what if she told him to make it up to her over coffee, over dinner, at a movie where she could clasp his hand and pretend to be scared...

But she hadn't. She watched him agree with her, then walk away, before she cried alone.

She pushed him against the filing cabinets in the records room, smashing her lips to his. It was just for show, of course. But what if she swept her tongue between his lips for just one...

But she hadn't. She broke away, later brushing it off with a silly quip.

His hands slid up her arms and his eyes dropped to her lips just before the hotel's elevator doors opened on a scandalized woman and her children. As they'd gone off to find a concierge to help find the missing earring that Clark was so sure was at the bottom of an elevator shaft, she wondered what would happen if she suggested they pick up where they left off...

But she hadn't.

There were too many what-ifs, too many lost opportunities, for this to become just one more. Maybe she'd regret this if they ever made it home. But she was damned sure she'd regret not doing this as she took her last frozen breath, still stuck in the middle of the Arctic.

She used the hand on his chest to push slightly. He rolled onto his back with a shaky moan and she pulled harder, faster, savoring the feel of him, hot and smooth in her hand. She had only done this once before. She'd hardly got a chance to do this even then. Things had progressed so rapidly to sex that went by so quickly, she hardly realized it had happened. She was just a silly kid then. Fooling around with another silly kid who looked nothing like Clark and was nothing like Clark, which was the whole point of the exercise then.

She leaned over him and worked him harder, not wanting to think of either of those silly kids right now. Because this? This was Clark. And she wouldn't waste a second. She'd remember every sight, sound, and scent of this moment. She breathed in, smelling the musty shack and the mustier blanket. They were necessary evils if she wanted to get to that musky smell underneath. That was all Clark. She knew it from countless hugs and cold nights in a borrowed, ugly, red jacket. There was another smell she knew -- her own. She rubbed her thighs together, nearly embarrassed at how easily they slid against each other. She'd been moist before with thoughts of him, so quickly pushed away as hopeless. It was hardly surprising that she'd be slippery wet now, with him straining under her.

He threw his head back against the bed, his neck arching, purple veins standing out against red skin as she gripped and squeezed. Someone moaned. She realized it was her and that his lips were tight, only frantic bursts of air escaping them. That was no good. She needed to hear him.

"Clark," she whispered. "Just let go."

Her arm was beginning to hurt, but even that wouldn't stop her now. It could fall off for all she cared. Just to hear him...

His head turned to her and his eyes opened, pupils so dilated they were nearly black, but so conflicted. She could see guilt and fear and, yes, lust in them. She hardly cared if it was for her or just for this moment. She was in this moment. She had started to make this mistake. She'd finish making it.

She glanced at the tendons standing out on his neck and... God only knew what made her do it, but she bent down, biting at his skin, flicking her tongue against it.

And he did it. He let go. She heard it in his harsh growl of her name. She felt it in the wet warmth that coated her hand. She saw it when she lifted her head to his slack mouth and closed eyes.

It felt warm now. Nearly too warm. She threw off the ratty blanket and rose.

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

"Are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"You know what, Chloe."

She kept picking her way through the snow ahead of him. She'd been ahead of him for hours. "Clark, we need to keep moving if we have a chance of finding any kind of shelter before sunset." And that was her excuse. It wasn't like they couldn't walk and talk at the same time. Last night, she'd kept forcing him to keep talking to keep alert. But suddenly walking and talking had become mutually exclusive activities.

He hefted the makeshift knapsack, made from a ratty blanket and containing one flashlight, a jar of questionable beef jerky, and a buffer of old napkins, on his shoulder. Chloe was holding the lantern base upright, which still had some kerosene, in one hand, switching hands and jamming the other into her pocket as she went. She said it would come in handy if they needed to start a fire, as would the old napkins. He thought of the napkins with some detestment, remembering the way she'd tossed one at him.

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

"Oh, good. Napkins. Might wanna clean yourself up," she said, buzzing around the shack, shimmying into her clothes as he turned his eyes away to do just that, wiping at his stomach and thighs.

She'd tossed his clothes on him moments later.

"We should probably get moving. I know Arctic days are longer in summer, but we have no idea how far north we are. For all we know, this old shack could be a two-day ride in a sno-kat from the nearest cabin and... Ohhhh!"

Clark rushed out of bed, pants still unzipped, to find her foot already in the icy hole in the floor. He gripped her arm, pulling her out a little too late as she'd already cracked through to freezing water. A day ago, and he'd have had her out in time -- and home before she could blink. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She shook her foot, resting a hand on his bare shoulder. "Just cold and... little wetter now."

He glanced down. "Just watch your step in here. These ice shacks are tricky." He gripped her waist, pulling her further away, then noticed she was still in her bra. It was lavender and black and kind of lacy. He'd hardly had a look at it last night, just pulling it over her head while closing his eyes. He hardly got a look at it now, she pushed away from him so fast, dislodging his hands and bending to the pile of clothes.

"This one looks like it's been used recently. I mean..." She turned, pulling her shirt all the way down, then picking up the flashlight he'd dropped near the bed. "This works." She clicked it on and off. "Cool."

"Chloe..."

"You know, I hate to leave shelter at all," she cut in hurriedly, "but who's going to find us out here? I mean, you went back and saved the day, but nobody has any idea we're here, except... Well, maybe Lex does. But we gave him the slip. For all he knows, some other Chloe Sullivan was in a hospital in the Yukon. Oh!" She turned to him. "Unless your parents knew you were going to end up here? Do they? Because that might..."

"They don't," he answered, feeling the weight of it now. He might know they were safe, but they had no idea he was okay.

"Then we have to move," Chloe went on rapidly, pulling on her shoes. "We have a full day to find something else. There has to be something better further south or..." She drew up to him, then stopped, swallowing visibly. She quickly moved past him, toward the shelf. "Looks like we even have food." She pulled down the jar. "Beef jerky." She turned to him with a grimace. "Guess we can't be too choosy, though. Let's pack it up."

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

And they did. They packed up and moved on. They left the shack and, apparently everything that happened in it, behind.

He plodded along behind her.

He would plod along next to her, but she seemed to gain some sudden burst of speed anytime he got near and, rather than keep up against her wishes, he lagged. If she didn't want to be anywhere near him, then... Fine. Whatever.

She suddenly stopped at a fallen log and turned to him. He wondered if she was finally going to talk. He wasn't exactly wearing a watch, but it had now been... a billion hours since she had last said a word.

"This is ridiculous," she said, using three now.

"It is," he agreed, having nothing better to say.

"Clark we should..."

Rest? Talk?

"We should try to start a fire."

His lips drew together and he clenched his free fist. "I'll look for some branches." Because she was right. They should start a fire. But that wasn't all they should do and she knew it or she wouldn't be avoiding it. He moved away. There were some scattered trees now. And the snow was only ankle-deep, just soaking through his socks and cuffs rather than running up his pant legs to his knees. He supposed that was progress, though it didn't exactly guarantee them a place to sleep when the sun went down. Then again, they did have a half-book of matches and what looked to be a quarter-cup of kerosene. Add in some dry branches and they had at least some warmth.

He dropped some low-hanging branches before her and turned back to the trees.

"That's probably enough for now."

"We might need more." He turned back, glad he had something to say she'd actually listen to. "We can't see how far these woods go. We might need more firewood." He hefted his knpsack. "I should get some more."

She nodded and placed her lantern down. "I'll go, too. One hundred paces?"

He nodded and turned, stupidly wishing she'd walk his way. It would probably be less productive, in the way of branch-finding, but at least he'd have his best friend -- and Chloe was his best friend -- to talk to. Now he wasn't sure if he'd have that ever again. She refused to speak to him, after all.

When he dumped more twigs near the lantern, she still wasn't back. He considered following her footprints, but hunkered down on the fallen log instead, bundling his spare branches in the ratty blanket. If she didn't want to talk then... fine. He had better things to do. He could gather his earlier crop of branches together and consider starting a fire. He glanced behind him. But not if she wasn't back. If she wasn't back, then he should tear a piece off his shirt and light a torch. Maybe go off in search... That was stupid. It was still daylight. But who knew for how long? He threw down his makeshift knapsack and dug for the flashlight.

"Hope you're not eating all our food."

He looked up, both relieved and offended. "What? No. I was just..." He held the flashlight up, feeling stupid in the light. "I would never..."

"I know you wouldn't, Clark." She dropped a bunch of sticks. "I was just teasing."

"At least you're talking," he muttered.

He waited for her to give a snappy come-back, acknowledging even that, but she only dropped down on the ground and brushed some snow away. "The branches are a little wet, but I figure we can use the kerosene to get past that." She dug in her pocket and pulled out the matches, ripped one off, then poised to strike. She nodded to the lantern base in the snow. "Could you sprinkle some of that?"

"Sure." He bent down and picked up the glass base then stopped short of pulling the wick out. "No." He pulled it closer to his chest.

"Clark, we should really..."

"What? Keep moving? We're taking a break now, Chloe, so we're not losing time by actually talking."

"We're risking hypothermia if you don't help me start this fire." She reached for the base, but he held it away.

"And I will if you promise we'll talk."

She drew back, pursing her lips. "Fine. We'll talk."

"And not about just anything." He wasn't going to be fooled so easily. "About... it," he clarified, though not so clearly, nodding in the general direction of North.

She looked away, then finally rested her narrowed eyes on his. "I promise. Now will you..."

He checked her hands for crossed fingers, then nodded and pulled the wick out, gently shaking the base over the pile of sticks, glad she'd given in because he was about to as he was still freezing, even more so for having stopped moving.

"Napkins," she said, still poised to strike the match.

He quickly moved to get some, wondering if he should have known that from camping trips. Then again, his dad had insisted on doing it the hard way, stick, rock and all. He said it was to build character. Clark hadn't thought much of it these last few years, since he could, until recently, start a fire with just a look.

"Put a few between the sticks."

"You really know what you're doing," he observed, placing a few.

She smiled slightly. "Well, my dad does call himself the barbecue king."

He smiled, too, thinking of dads and everything they had to share and how he'd have never got this far without the words of his own, echoing in his mind. He hoped he'd get to tell him all about it, though slightly edited in parts. And speaking of edited parts...

She blew lightly at the flame, trying to get it to catch the sticks. He found himself staring at her lips until she glanced up at him helplessly. "Clark, we're losing it."

He quickly added his own breath, remembering this part from camping. Of course, the lightheadedness was kind of new... and dizzying. He fell back against the fallen log as the flames spread through their meager pile. She grasped his arm and he looked up, seeing her sitting on the log. He shook the haziness off and got up, glad for the reminder as his butt was now wet and cold. He wondered how silly it would look if he turnedthat to the fire. Instead, he sat next to her as the warmth hit his ankles and calves. For what it was, it was almost comfortable.

Just then, he heard a loud rumble and was about to apologize. His stomach had been in various states of unrest all morning, churning and groaning. He'd never felt so...

"God, I'm hungry."

He turned to her, glancing at the hand clenching her stomach, realizing the noise had actually been hers. Was this actual hunger? He suddenly realized he'd never truly felt it. Sure, he salivated at his mom's pies or claimed he was starving on sloppy joe night, but he'd never actually felt it before. "Well, we have food." He quickly bent to his knapsack, digging for that jar. He might have grimaced at the dusty old jar before, but now his mouth watered at the thought of it.

"If you want to call it that."

He opened the jar and the smell of salty meat hit him. It was kind of wonderful. "It might not be bad. Beef jerky keeps for a long time." At least his dad said so. He made a mental note to thank his dad for that, too. He dug in the jar and pulled out a piece, holding it out for her. "Looks pretty good."

She took it, grimacing. "Spoken like a person who doesn't hate beef jerky."

"Kind of all we have," he said, realizing he wasn't too down about that. Though his feelings were lukewarm before, at the moment, he kind of loved beef jerky.

"I know." She nodded and gingerly nibbled on an end.

He tore off a hunk of his and thought nothing had ever tasted so good. He said so.

"Well, anything tastes good if you're starving," she said, thoughtfully chewing, "even jerky."

"Yeah?" He'd never thought of it that way.

"Sure. If I'm hungry enough, I can actually tolerate something I despise without gagging."

"Beef jerky's not so bad." It was the best food in the world. If they ever got home, he'd buy a case of it. No. A shipping pod full of cases with different flavors.

"It's not the worst. Just imagine if I had a warm latte right now." She closed her eyes and moaned slightly.

He nearly dropped his jerky. Speaking of moaning... "Chloe, I think we should."

"Clark, I did what I had to do," she said softly, eyes on the fire.

He didn't take his from her as she was finally talking about... it. "How is that something you had to do?"

"Well, you wouldn't have done it," she said, loudly now. "You would have apologized profusely and said you were fine, when you weren't, then you would have walked around all..." She groaned. "Well, you know. I was trying to help you out."

"Well, I could have helped myself. You didn't need to just..."

"Jesus, Clark! Don't even try to tell me it was a traumatizing experience. I may not be the... I mean... I know I'm not..."

"I'm not saying it was traumatizing." He felt his face heat up. "Not at all. I just feel so... so..."

"What? Guilty? You know, it's perfectly natural to..."

"God," he growled, standing. "If I hear you say natural one more time..." It made him feel like something off The Discovery Channel. The human male becomes erect when in close contact with an unclothed female. Let's observe...

"Fine. But what I did was necessary." She stood as well, squaring off with him. "If you would have taken care of it yourself, which you wouldn't have, you would have left the shack and froze outside while doing it to preserve my... my maidenly virtue or something. I just did what you wouldn't do for yourself. I took care of you. It's... It's what friends do. Can't you just say thank you and let it go?"

"No. I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

Because I can't just brush it off like it was nothing. I can't just accept you doing something like that for me because I know I have no prayer of ever returning the... favor. He stared at her reddened face and wondered if he could. Having never really... Did girls feel it, too? As achy and painfully and wonderfully as he did? He madly wondered if he could even the scales.

He suddenly really wanted to try. In bed with her, naked and warm next to him, so hot and moist as he slid against places he'd never neared... He hadn't thought about what it felt like for her. Was it anywhere near as maddening? "You've done a lot for me, Chloe. You always have. But this..." He found himself gripping her arms, kneading lightly. "This isn't something I can repay." He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Unless you want me to... to try."

PREVIOUS PART

PART FIVE

Before Sunset (Part Three)

2011-10-08T04:14:00.000-07:00

PART THREE

She opened her eyes with a gasp.

Her dreams were strange. Maybe it was because graduation was coming. Maybe it was because she'd fairly recently found out her best friend could stop a speeding car with one hand. Maybe it was because she'd spent her prom night possessed by a queen bee with a serious superiority complex. Maybe it was because her entire life was strange and her dreams could only work with what they were given for fuel.

But she had images of ice castles and snow in the summer and Clark cradling her, dropping her, babbling to her about ice fishing and other planets and peeling the clothes from her body. At least that last part was consistent with her normal dreaming pattern. But it had all seemed so...

Her hand nearly ached. She drew her hand into herself with a shiver. "Jesus." It felt like ice against her stomach and her blanket felt scratchy and all wrong and where the hell was her pillow and...

"Chloe?"

She shrieked and shot up, then felt air against her skin... too much of her skin. She shrieked again, trying to grasp the scratchy blanket only to find her hand was too numb and her body was pitching backward into...

"It's okay." Clark grasped her arms and yanked her down. "Chloe, we're safe."

She heard howling in the distance, as if in answer to her shrieks. "Safe?"

"At least for the night. I don't think... Hold on." There was rustling and creaking and cold creeping under the blanket, then a slight rasping noise. Clark came into view, shaking out a match, then ducking under the blankets again. She looked up, saw a flame rising up out of rounded glass. "I had to blow it out before I settled in. I was afraid I'd knock it over in my sleep." He shivered and grasped her hand again. "Not that I've been sleeping. Not with them out there." He looked toward the door and she did, too, noticing it was there. Noticing where they were. Some kind of cobwebbed shack. "I don't think they can get in."

"Huh?" She could hardly follow. Because this was real. It was all real. Clark was an alien and they were stranded in the Arctic Circle and theywere... naked. At least she knew she was. Clark's knee brushed her calf and she became positive he was. That felt only too real.

"The wolves," Clark said, pulling her hand down under the blankets and rubbing it between his own. "They were sniffing around here for an hour, but I think they've given up now. They sound further away. They shouldn't be around when the sun's up... I hope." He brought his hands up to his mouth and breathed on her hand between them, still rubbing. "Is that better?"

She made a weak noise, still unable to get over the fact that she was naked. That Clark was naked. That they were naked together.

"I think we should rest until sunrise, then see what we can salvage from here and keep going south. We have to come upon civilization sooner or later."

"Clark..." She cleared her throat. It felt as scratchy as the damned blanket. The one blanket. That they both were under. Naked. She pulled away slightly.

He shot forward and grasped her waist. "Don't fall off. We need to keep all the heat under here." He pulled her in, arms encircling her.

"Uh-huh." She nodded as if she understood as Clark blithely pulled the blankets over them with one hand, as if this was somehow normal. "And why are we... um... naked?"

His hands rubbed her back. "Because we're more likely to generate body heat if we're both unclothed and sharing the same covering."

She opened her mouth to question him, still not over the naked thing. But... maybe he was right. The last time she'd been fully conscious she'd been cold and wet. Now she felt warm and dry. "Okay, then." She burrowed closer and he gathered her in.

"A sleeping bag would actually be better." His chest brushed against her nipples and she sighed into his neck. It was getting warmer. "It's kind of like a pocket and retains all the warmth insi..." He suddenly shot backward, banging his head on the wall. He rubbed it with a groan, staring at her wide-eyed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

She stared at him in the dim light, now flickering in the wake of his movements. "Didn't mean to what?"

"Um... Just... I mean, I feel bad enough, not even asking before getting you all..." He looked down, then quickly up, staring at some unnamed point above the bed. "Anyway, I've been trying not to... touch."

She nearly laughed. Same old Clark. "Thank you for being so," terrified, "polite." She shivered at the cold unearthed by his pulling away and pulled the blanket to her. "But, from the looks of it, we're on a pretty tiny bed. I think touching is kind of unavoidable."

"Well, yeah. But... I mean... I should just... um... try not to..."

She found her fists clenching on the blanket. "Clark, it's freezing. If being closer and, God forbid, actually touching means we both get some blanket, then I think we can put up with the horror. Okay?"

His eyes narrowed. "You don't have to be so... I mean... I'm trying to be... polite, here."

"Well stop." She dropped one piece of the blanket and gripped his arm, yanking him down. "We're grown-ups now, Clark. I think we can handle a little skin contact in the interest of not freezing to death."

His lips formed a thin line. "I never said I couldn't handle..."

"Just stop being such a ninny." She huffed and turned over, pressing back harder than was necessary, adding her elbow into the mix, digging it into him behind her.

"Ow... Chloe..."

"Oh, sorry, Clark. Didn't mean to touch you or anything. Don't worry. I don't have cooties."

"Now you just sound like a chi..."

"I don't want to talk anymore," she said, testily. "I want to sleep." She pulled the blanket to her with a jerky movement, only to find it dragged behind her as she felt him move.

"Fine," he grunted. The cot creaked and bounced with his motions behind her until she heard a hard exhale behind her and the shack went dark. She felt a hand slide under her waist as she was jerked backward and the blanket settled over her shoulder. "For the record, I was trying to be a gentleman." She jolted slightly at his breath brushing her neck. "I guess I can stop that now." She let out a shaky gasp as his leg settled over hers.

Her eyes widened in the darkness. "Clark... you... you're..."

"Just... don't," he growled.

"Uh... It's... nothing to be embarrassed about." She swallowed, though her throat was sandpaper-dry.

"Seriously. Don't."

"I'm sure anyone would... uh... in this situation.... it's perfectly natural to..."

"Go to sleep, Chloe."

But she couldn't. Clark was hard against the small of her back and his breath was on her neck and his body was enveloping hers and... She shivered. And not from the cold. "Clark," she whispered.

She felt something brush the back of her neck and she leaned into it. His lips. Clark's lips. His arm tightened on her middle and his lips slipped to her ear.

"God, Clark..."

She stiffened as a harsh sound ripped through her eardrums.

Clark Kent was erect and naked against her and... snoring loudly in her ear.

It just figured.

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

Light.

That was the first thing he registered. And it hurt. That was new. So was the bone-deep weariness that made it hard to even crack his eyes. He tried, though, groaning when the pain intensified and they still weren't opening, as if some thick crust covered them.

His groan was answered by a sigh and something soft against his lips. Hair. Chloe's hair, he realized, last night coming back to him.

That was very new. His eyes shot open with, he swore, a sort of scratching sound.

He gasped in a breath and some of that hair followed it in. He blew out and moved his head away. Chloe sort of moaned and turned over, burying her nose in his chest. He smiled and pulled the blanket she'd dislodged higher on her shoulder, but not before he saw...

Boobs.

He tucked the blanket into her neck decidedly, trying not to grin because... Boobs.

Besides, he had no business smiling about Chloe's boobs. He was mad at her because... because... She nestled closer and his eyes rolled backwards. He felt her leg sliding upwards and he stiffened, remembering why he was supposed to be mad. She'd called him a ninny and said he couldn't handle skin contact and was generally pissy with him. And then she'd made it worse, all understanding about how perfectly natural it was when he was so humiliated he could hardly exist.

He looked around, anywhere but at her. He cringed at the light again. It assaulted his eyes through cracks in the wood. Somehow it seemed brighter than it should be. He chanced a look up and noticed a faded skylight in the ceiling itself. He hadn't seen that in the scant light from the flickering lantern base last night. He closed his eyes against it, grunting slightly at more new feelings. Last night, numb and exhausted, he'd hardly noticed the aches all over his body. Now he felt a near burn in his legs and his arms and a sort of stiffness all over his body.

She shifted again. He felt nipples (Jesus. Nipples!) against his chest. He remembered the stiffness in other places too and it was just as embarrassing, even if she was asleep. He was only too grateful he wasn't shooting fire from his eyes to go with it. Of course, that might actually come in handy in this particular...

She grunted softly and her knee rose up, brushing against him. He hissed and tried to move his hips away, not that there was much room. Her knee landed instead on his hip, leaving his erection to slip forward, rubbing against warmth and wetness. "God..."

This is happening. This is actually happening. He had to stop this from happening. He gripped her waist, fully intending to push her away just enough, but he found himself frozen gripping her as his c*ck still rubbed against her... just as she opened her eyes.

"Uh...." He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. His fingers were digging into her waist and his c*ck was twitching between her legs and this had to look so damning, but he... he couldn't move. He madly wondered if he should have had sex sometime before. God knew he'd had opportunities. Maybe he should have taken them, whether they felt right or not. Maybe then he could move away from her instead of...

Her eyes shot wide and she gasped loudly as his c*ck slipped forward against her.

He did move then, holding her away and pushing himself back against the wall. "I'm sorry. Chloe, I'm so sorry."

She shook slightly, then squeezed her eyes shut. "It's okay, Clark. I know..."

"I didn't mean to..."

"I know." She opened her eyes, but didn't look at him. "I know you didn't mean anything by it. It's just... a natural reaction to stimulus and..."

"Jesus, Chloe..." He removed his hands from her, pulling them into his chest. "Please stop saying it's natural."

"But it is," She squinted at him. "From what I know, it's a standard morning condition for... guys. I get it. It's really..."

"Just stop talking about it," he cut in abruptly, "and maybe it will go away."

She stared hard at him, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. "Clark... Is this... Is this your... first..."

"What? No!"

She stared hard at him, then... laughed.

"Chloe, as if this isn't hard enough..."

She laughed harder.

He glared at her, thinking laughing at it should make it go away. Strangely, it only seemed to encourage it. "Chloe, stop..."

"I'm sorry, but it doesn't..." She stopped, giggling. "It doesn't just... go away if you ignore it. I mean..."

"Well, I'm not saying to ignore it. I usually think about something unsexy like Mr. Leeman putting on lipstick or..."

"Oh. God..." She was gasping for breath now. "Does that... Does that... work?"

He pursed his lips hard, then felt a snort escaping. "Maybe for a... for a second," He let out a laugh. "I usually still have to..." His laughter died abruptly. His condition, however, didn't. If he woke up this way, it was usually alone.

Her laughter was fading as well, though she still let out the occasional burst.

"This is a first for me, Chloe," he said miserably. "I've never..." he took a deep breath. "I've never woke up naked next to a girl who happened to be... also naked."

Her face turned serious and she nodded, looking down, then quickly back up at his face. "I get it, Clark."

"I didn't mean for it to look like I was... I mean, I'd never... I never have..."

She peered closely at him. "You've... never?"

"Well..." He shrugged slightly. "Yeah. I thought you knew that."

"No. I didn't. I kind of assumed you must have... I mean, at some point..."

"Well, I didn't," he cut in quickly. "What I mean is that I'm sorry. I really wasn't trying to..."

"I know you weren't," she said, her eyes unreadable. "You aren't that kind of guy."

"Good. So can we just pretend that it never happened?"

She shook her head. "Clark, this is... something that happened. It's perfectly natural."

"Again with the natural..."

"I'm just trying to be understanding, Clark."

"Well, stop," he burst out. "Tell me never to let it happen again."

"I can't do that," she breathed, looking down now.

"Then hit me or something so I stop..."

"I can't do that, either."

His eyes suddenly widened on what she could do as she gripped him... and not his arm or anything.

PREVIOUS PART

PART FOUR

Before Sunset (Part Two)

2011-10-08T03:50:00.000-07:00

You guys don't even want to know how long I spent researching the Arctic Circle before deciding to just write this part without bothering about the details so much (and, as a research whore, I have some trouble not getting things exactly right, so you might understand my pain).

But let me just say that there would be no Arctic sunset in the beginning of summer (around Commencement). Honestly, how would Jor-El know when sunset is? It's permanently above the horizon during the summer months where the fortress is and doesn't actually reach sunset before September. Oh... and that dark night when the fortress fell over Clark and Lex... it wouldn't actually be dark at that time of year.

But fine. The show didn't bother with facts, then neither will I (though it smarts. I hate writing about sunset happening in a land where there isn't one, which includes the Yukon in the summer).

PART TWO

Chloe pulled herself up, fairly crawling toward Clark now, picking her way to him across snow layered with a thin sheet of ice that cracked beneath her knees and hands. When she found him face-down, she let out a sob. Consequences. No. Please, God, no. But she could feel his pulse as she touched his neck. So aliens have pulses. Heartbeats. Good to know. She turned him over with a grunt. She could feel his breath on her palm as she touched his cold, wet face.

"Clark?" He opened his eyes. "Clark, what happened? What's wrong?"

"Chloe... It stings."

She moved closer with effort, cradling his head. "What stings?"

"Everything," he said blearily. "It stings and it... burns."

She felt his cold cheeks. "I think you mean freezes." Jesus, Clark. What happened to you? But she had an idea. Her recent experiences with a completely memory-free Clark had given her a fairly good idea of what Clark could do... and what he couldn't. He couldn't be hurt. That included, in her mind, pesky things like feeling the cold. It was something that was confirmed in her mind when he ran with her twice through snow and ice, but stayed warm and steady against her cheek. But not now.

What had changed?

Sunset. Consequences.

She had an idea of what those consequences might be, bleary as the last moments in the giant igloo were. She would stop to be relieved that they weren't what she'd thought upon finding him face-down, but she felt that stopping was a luxury they couldn't afford right now. "Clark, you need to get up. We need to keep moving." She tried to pull him, hoping he'd get on board. As much as she loathed geography class, she knew that the average temperature in the Arctic Circle was close to zero, even in summer. She just hoped they were nearer to the Yukon than the North Pole Right now. As nice as it would be, she doubted Santa and his elves were waiting for them with warm cocoa and a roaring fire.

"Can't move." He squeezed his eyes shut. "Hurts to breathe. I can't..."

She squeezed his arms. "You're just cold and... numb." She was feeling it, too. She could only imagine how it would feel for the very first time. "You can move and you have to. We have to. It's the only way too keep warm until we can find..." She cast a worried look around her. Find what? There was nothing. Just flat, white land as far as the eye could see, which wasn't far. It was getting darker. "We need to find shelter," she breathed. But where the hell were they going to find shelter?

It didn't even matter where. They just had to be anywhere else. But Clark was still shaking, teeth clacking together, but otherwise not moving. His eyes were wide and his breath was coming in visible pants. "Clark, you... you must be in some kind of shock, but I need you to snap out of it now."

"I'm freezing."

"Well, so am I," she said, getting testy now. "And I don't want to die here!"

Clark's head snapped to her. "Chloe..." He stared up at her. "I'm s-s-sorry. You must be so c-c-c-c..."

You big, sweet dope. "Yes. I'm cold. And I don't want to sit here getting colder. Clark, please... Just move... for me. I need you to." After knowing how many lives he saved, she suspected this was the one thing that would get him going. Someone else's need.

And it might seem silly, but even after witnessing months of super-powered heroism, she was never more awed by Clark than now. Because Clark was moving, sort of haltingly, teeth still chattering as he pulled himself out of the Clark-sized dent in the snow, but he was moving. And just because she needed him to. He stiffly grasped her arm as he rose, pulling her to stand with him. "C-C-Chloe... I'm s-so s-sorry I d-d-dragged you out here t-t-to..."

"Don't be sorry. Just keep moving." She huddled close and took a step, pulling him to follow. She really didn't want to focus on reason number 586 to be crazy about Clark Kent (which was sweet, dopey selflessness, by the way). She'd rather focus on moving in some fruitful direction because she knew, from years of experience, that being crazy about him was about the most fruitless direction ever. "If we move, we stay warm," she said, hoping she sounded confident as he nodded, still nearly vibrating with the shakes. And there went most of what she'd learned from some magazine skimmed in the dentist's office last winter. There was something about real wool socks and gloves and how, if your extremities stay warm, the rest of you follows. That was a lost cause. It being June, she had socks so thin they were nearly panty hose. She was lucky she was even wearing a jacket. As for gloves, they were somewhere on the top shelf of her closet along with scarves and earmuffs and every other thing she wished she had right now.

Wishing, of course, did no good. But it didn't stop her from fantasizing about hot beverages and hot tubs and hot... anything. In the realm of what could be reasonably expected in this situation, she'd settle for something hard to walk on, not an icy surface that gave on every step to soft, wet snow that soaked through her pants and stuffed itself into her shoes. "We're going to be fine, Clark," she lied, hoping saying it would somehow make it true. "How you doing there?"

"I'm-m c-c-cold."

"Aren't we all," she said, guessing he wasn't a believer in the power of positive thinking. "Maybe we should focus on something else. Anything else."

"C-Chloe..." His steps were slowing and he pitched forward slightly. "I c-can't..."

"Clark, come on." She gripped his arm tighter and braced him with a hand on his chest. His eyes were closing. "You have to stay with me. I'm never going to get out of this without you." It wasn't exactly a lie. She had a strong feeling she was never going to get out of this, with or without him. But they had to keep trying. "Come on, Clark. Talk to me. You never did explain the big igloo."

His eyes opened. "N-not an ig-g-gloo.... F-f-fortress."

"Okay." She nearly laughed, so relieved he was saying something besides how cold it was. "The fortress. Tell me about it."

"F-from the crystals. It's just... sprouted up and... I was s-s-supposed to learn and then you... you were th-there."

"I remember that part," she said trying to plow forward with him. "And about sunset and consequences..."

"D-d-didn't make it.... T-t-too late. G-gone."

"The fortress?"

"N-no. My p-p-p..."

"Your powers," she finished for him, wondering if making him talk was the wrong thing to do. Maybe it wasted energy they were running short on. "I figured that. Were you somehow presto-changoed out of being an alien, too?"

He shook his head and plodded on with her. "D-d-don't know. I d-d-didn't get back t-t-to learn everyth-th-thing."

"Don't try to talk. It's okay. The bottom line is that you are now... vulnerable, same as me." Maybe even more so. And it sucked. She was soldiering on, but he must have it ten times worse, never having felt the sting of the cold, the burn of the wind, the... She looked around. The knowledge that you could truly be taken down by it all. On a selfish level, she felt cheated. Just when she'd been fully let in to the secret world of Clark Kent, there was now... not only was there no secret, but they were probably going to die. It just figured she'd meet her end just when she got to the truth. Maybe the truth was the end.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked, sick of the quiet again.

"I hate c-c-cold."

"Well, it's just new to you," she said, also getting a little sick of being positive, but unable to stop for fear of what happened if she did. "If this were was a summer day," she said loudly, "we'd be wishing for this."

"It is summer."

"Not in the arctic. Think of it this way. A bunch of sweaty people in kansas only wish they could trade places with us right now."

"I w-wish they would."

"Yeah, so do I," she sighed. "It's so c-c-c..." She clenched her teeth, trying not to let it take her over. She stepped again, crunching through the thinning ice to the snow below up to her... ankles. "Clark..." She turned to him, squeezing his arm with numbing hands. "It's not as deep now. That has to be good."

He turned to her, eyes still at half-mast and bleary. "Is it?"

"Sure. I mean... I think I even feel warmer now. Don't you?" That was a blatant lie. It was darkening even more and the wind was picking up. She could hear it whistling past her ears with the cry of birds and... "Birds," she gasped. "I hear birds. That's good. If there's wildlife, then we're not so far north. If there are birds, then there are..." giant, vicious animals that eat birds. And the even bigger animals that eat them and... And it was even darker now. Why the hell did she think hearing birds was a good thing?

"M-m-maybe hunters," Clark suddenly said. "If th-th-there's wildlife, then maybe there are p-p-people..."

"Hunting," she finished. That was actually encouraging. Go, Clark. "Maybe." But she was starting to feel the dispair of it now. "What do you remember from Geography in Sophomore year?"

"That the antarctic is colder than the arctic."

"Oh, then we're lucky. Provided we don't die or anything..."

"No." He suddenly stopped, grasping the arm that was gripping his. "Chloe, I'm s-s-s..."

"Clark, saying sorry does neither of us any good. I got caught up in whatever it was that carried you here and that's not your fault. It was just..."

"No. I'm s-s-sorry I'm not helping m-more. We're going to get out of this. I p-promise."

"You better be right." She smiled weakly. "I'd hate to tell your mother she raised a liar."

His eyes became shuttered. "They don't know."

"What?"

"Lois told me they were okay, so I went to get you. I thought... maybe you could tell them where I was, but now..."

"Lois was okay?" Chloe felt momentarily guilty, so focused on their own impending doom that she'd nearly forgot there was the mother of all meteor showers in Smallville... again. "Is Lana okay?"

"She's banged up, but she'll be alright."

"What about my dad?"

Clark squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure he's... he's..."

"Chloe, I'm sorry. Lana was hurt and there were these Kryptonians that wanted to take over the world and I had to get back to you because Lex..."

"I get it, Clark." She huddled close to him again and nudged him forward. "Maybe not all of it." She squinted ahead. "Kryptonians?"

"They're kind of... from the same place I am. Krypton. I don't know how to explain it, but... Blood was spilled on one of the crsytals and it was some kind of... signal I guess. They came down, dragging meteors with them and I had to open a portal to send them back."

She nodded, glad that he was no longer stuttering with cold, though she still couldn't understand a word he was saying. "Sounds like a busy afternoon," she said, for lack of anything better. "Maybe we should just... not t-t-talk." The cold was creeping into her. She wasn't sure she had the energy now. It was all crashiing down on her. There was another meteor shower. Their town was probably in shambles. She had no way of knowing of her father was okay -- and vice versa. And now she was going to die in the middle of nowhere. Maybe they'd never even discover her frozen body. Having learned the truth about Clark was cold comfort at this point. It was nearly dark. The nothingness in the distance was turning to true nothing, just black and inky...

"Chloe, I see..."

Her steps faltered and she slid forward and her eyes...

"Chloe..."

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

Clark caught her as she nearly collapsed, nearly slipping himself . "Chloe..."

Her eyes fluttered open, lashes flecked with the white snow that the wind whipped around them. "Not gonna make it, Clark. D-d-don't know why I thought we c-c-c..."

"Chloe, you slipped. There's ice under the snow and the... other ice. It's a lake, Chloe."

"Then m-maybe we can d-d-drown, too?"

"No. It's frozen. And I saw something else... It's a sh..." She crumpled and he gripped her tighter as her head lolled backward. "Chloe?"

There was steam coming from her lips. so he knew she was breathing... for now. But not if they stayed still much longer. After all she'd done to keep him moving, he had to return the favor. Just a little longer and they could rest. Because he'd seen it.

"There's an ice shanty, Chloe," he said weakly, though he doubted she heard. He bent forward, pitting his shoulder against her stomach and straightening with a grunt. It wasn't so bad. Now that he was standing, the extra weight didn't feel so hard to bear.

"My dad told me about ice shanties when I was twelve," he said, trying to think about that as he moved forward so slowly in the growing dark. "He used to go ice fishing with his uncle in Minnesota when he was that age. He said it was the first time he tried whiskey," he said, trying to remember everything he could about that story. Not because she was listening. He was damned sure she wasn't, but he was afraid that, if he stopped talking he'd collapse as she had. And they were so close to shelter. "His uncle gave it to him to 'ward off the cold' and he said it did more than that. He said he only had a few sips and he was falling all over the shack. I laughed, but I was kind of jealous. See, back then, I wanted to be just like my dad and I already knew that I would never feel cold or get drunk. I know because I'd already tried. Me and Pete snagged some wine coolers from his basement. He got all giggly. I faked it, but I didn't feel a thing. And I hated it. I hated knowing that I would never be like Pete or my dad or anyone else that was..." Normal.

Of course, he had a taste of normal now. And he didn't like it. He didn't like cold or heaviness or dark he couldn't see through...

"I can't see it," he said aloud. It was dark now and no amount of squinting would make that out-of-place rectangle stand out against the white again. "It's fine," he reassured her, imagining her limp hand brushing against his thigh as he stopped was some sort of question in need of reassurance. He hefted her more securely on his shoulder. "I know it was right ahead. We'll find it."

He plodded on, trying to plant his feet as he walked rather than sliding on the ice under the thin layer of snow. "Anyway, my dad said his uncle's shanty was really cool. It had four bunks and a hot plate and a toilet... But he said no one ever used that. It was small and no one wanted to stink it up. Plus, they could always practice writing their names in the snow. My dad said he only got three letters. But his uncle could do his whole name. And his name was Jeremiah, so you know that's pretty impre..." He stopped, impeded by... something.

He tightened his grip with one hand and reached out with the other. His hands were pretty numb now, but he felt wood, solid, crackly, splintered wood. "We're here, Chloe."

She gave no answer, even when he squeezed her. He felt along the wood, waiting for anything. Just a break in the planks large enough to be a...

"Door," he panted, feeling his fingers slip through, feeling the wood give as he pulled back, but slowly, halted by the snow and ice. He held Chloe tighter and pulled with all his might, stumbling backward and nearly falling to the snowy surface of the lake. "No..." He skittered back several steps, but stayed upright, holding onto the door. "We're good," he breathed.

There was a slight moan in response and he decided to find that encouraging. He moved forward, using one hand to feel between the door and the edge. He moved them in slowly, trying to mind her, still crumpled over him. The last thing he wanted to do was give Chloe a concussion in addition to running her out here to freeze. Inside, it felt almost warm, without wind that assaulted his cheeks and hands. He moved in further, stopped when something hit his knees. He bent, trying to feel what it was and felt... softness. He ran his hand along it. It felt like blankets, sort of scratchy ones. He sank to his knees in front of it, gripping along the edge. A cot maybe. "See, Chloe? There's even a bed."

There was no answer and he felt momentarily panicked. He reached his free hand over his shoulder to grip hers, hefting her forward. There was a slight crash and he gasped, trying to feel her head. He felt up her body, brushing against places he shouldn't before he felt her neck, then her head. There was nothing near it. Just the softness of the cot. He reached up, feeling her arm, then her hand, then... He drew his hand away with a hiss. His finger stung and he brought it to his mouth on instinct, sucking, tasting something salty and... coppery. Blood? He had a feeling, but he couldn't know for sure. He carefully felt his way up her arm again, brushing against the jagged... glass. It felt like glass. Thin glass, and then a wooden surface and then... His hand came away with what he prayed he'd find. Matches.

His fingers were numb, but he felt nearly renewed by what he held and concentrated everything on feeling the cardboard surface until he felt the slightly gritty strip. He kept one finger on it as he reached under with the other hand, tearing one stick from the matchbook. He closed his eyes, seeing being a useless endeavor right now and struck. The slight snick sounded before him and he opened his eyes, seeing fire and Chloe. He breathed a sigh of relief and...

"No." It flickered out with his breath and he concentrated again, striking the match and keeping his eyes to his left. To the surface. He saw thin, broken glass to the side of a thicker glass base. A hurricane lamp. Now just a wick sticking from a base, thanks to his clumsiness and Chloe's flailing hand. His fingers burned and he quickly touched the match to the wick, pulling back his fingers and shaking them out. Frozen, cut and burned so far...

But he couldn't complain. They had shelter.

A gust of wind hit his back and he shivered, turning to the door. He stood, glad he could see now, but knowing that wouldn't last long if he didn't shut the door against the wind, considering he'd broken the glass top of the lamp. He moved to the door and pulled it closed against the snow and wind, leaning against the jamb, wheezing slightly. It hit him now, how cold he was and how... tired. He glanced at Chloe, slumped on the this cot, and was nearly jealous... and concerned. He fell to his knees before her, feeling in front of her lips. Her breaths were steady and he let out one of his own in relief.

He sat back on his knees and looked around. It was a tiny shack. One cot. One small table. One shelf containing a tackle box and a jar containing... something. His eyes were too tired to glean what. He turned further. One hole in the wooden floor. Must be where all the ice fishing happened. One cabinet... He moved to it. There was nothing inside but some spiders and a flashlight. He'd never felt threatened by spiders before. He supposed now was the time to start. He shrunk back, wondering if it was a brown recluse. He'd seen these pictures on the internet of some guy's thumb, completely eaten away by venom and... he hardly cared. There was a flashlight. He stiffened and reached in to grab it, snatching it back quickly as if the spider had dibs. He held it at his side, then turned back to Chloe.

He felt her hands. Despite the lack of wind, they were still stiff and cold. He rubbed them lightly and looked at the bed in the dim, flickering light.

It was a rather small cot. From what he could see under her, there was one rather scratchy blanket and no pillows at all. If they got out of this, he would never take his bed at home, with it's soft quilt and four pillows, for granted again.

Still, there was enough room for him to squeeze in beside her, He might just have to. Because there was something else about his father's ice-fishing story.

"Funny thing, Chloe," he said blearily. "My dad learned a lot of survival stories from his uncle that winter. Did you know it's actually warmer if you get out of your wet clothes?" He brought his hands to the buttons of her jacket. "My dad said the best way to stave off hypothermia is to generate body heat." He pulled her jacket down her arms and out from under her, then stopped, seeing her shirt, slightly wet in places.

She was in no condition to give permission.

If he did this, she might just kill him in the morning.

If he didn't, they might both die tonight.

He pulled the shirt upwards, trying to keep his eyes on it and not the skin. "My dad also said a sleeping bag was best." He pulled off his own jacket and tossed it near hers. "I think it was something about being sealed in..."

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
PART THREE

Before Sunset (Part One)

2011-10-03T03:28:00.000-07:00

PART ONE

Clark stared through the broken stained glass window.

You must return to me before the yellow sun has set.

He bent his gaze to Lana, bloody and weak on the floor. "We need to get you to a hospital."

There was still time before sunset. He could get back. But he couldn't leave her here, bloody and broken in what remained of Lex's study.

Each time you let your emotions guide you, the fate of the of the entire planet is at risk. That is your weakness, Kal-El.

The entire planet was safe for now. He could afford this moment of weakness.

Her eyes slid shut, but he could feel her pulse still thrumming. Just unconscious. He felt guilty for being relieved. Surely, he should feel somewhat aggrieved that she was injured enough to be knocked out. But, really, it gave him more time. There was a greater good here. And Lana seeing just had no part of that. If she couldn't see... He spied the key on the floor and quickly pocketed it before standing, making sure she was still out before rushing to the med center.

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

He left her in the ER, assured by the on-call doctor that she would be fine. Lois said his parents would be fine. Everyone would be fine. Now he could keep his word. Everyone would be... wondering where he'd gone. He didn't even know how long he'd be gone. His parents. He didn't have time to say goodbye. And Lana... It seemed they'd been so close to making it work this time...

"I'm sorry, sir, but we've admitted no one by the name of Chloe Sullivan."

Maybe Chloe could find a way to explain, at least to his parents, that he was alright. Now that she knew, he... Chloe. He turned, stopped in the lobby. Two men in dark suits were at the admitting desk.

"Thank you for your time," one said with a false smile.

He moved outside, looking through the wide wall as they came to a stop in the crowded waiting room, listening carefully...

"...obvious Sullivan isn't here. Let's just go."

"Mr. Luthor said to stand-by until further notice."

"I haven't even been able to check and see if my own damn family's okay and I have to wait here for some high schooler who may or may not show up."

"We won't have to wait much longer. He's nearly landed in the Yukon. Once we get confirmation it's her..."

Clark couldn't stay to hear anymore. He rushed to the caves, the key heavy in his pocket.

It's Chloe I'm worried about, Lex had said. She was down in the cave with me when the meteors hit. I was knocked out and when I came to, she was gone.

He didn't know how Lex had gotten this far, but he couldn't let him get any further. He slid the key home and waited.

Clark, before I passed out, there was a light brighter than anything I've ever seen. I could've sworn I saw you standing right in it's epicenter.

He shook the snow off himself, staring at the fortress.

Do not fail me, Kal-El, or the consequences will be grave.

And he was sure they would be. But how grave might it be if Lex found Chloe?

Your secret will never ever leave my lips. No matter what.

No. She'd never tell. But for Lex to find her in a hospital in the middle of the Yukon... She could seal her lips all she wanted and it wouldn't matter. He'd know. Maybe not fully. But he'd have a good start.

You must return to me before the yellow sun has set.

He took one last look at the fortress, then at the setting sun. There was still time. Just to warn her. Tell her Lex was coming. Hide her...

Each time you let your emotions guide you, the fate of the of the entire planet is at risk. That is your weakness, Kal-El!

Just one more moment of weakness...

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

Chloe took her jacket, still slightly damp, shrugging it on quickly before Clark tossed her her shoes. "Where are we going?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead. Anywhere you can get home from. We can't let him find you."

"Clark..." She hurriedly stepped into her shoes. "Not that I'm not grateful you came back for me, but... Don't you have somewhere else to be?" She stood. "I know I didn't seem too alert back at the igloo, but I could have sworn I heard a disembodied voice saying something about returning and sunset and dire consequences..."

He stared out the window. "But I can't..."

"Clark, just go. I'm up and dressed and fully able to give Lex and a goon or two the slip and find somewhere to phone home..."

He cast a worried glance at the window again. "If you're sure..."

"I'm positive. Now..."

They both stilled at a familiar voice in the hall. "... perfectly safe releasing her into my care... a friend of hers and..."

"No," Clark growled. He didn't hesitate. He threw open the window, stepping over the edge before pulling her to him. He jumped.

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

He saw the hospital safely in the distance before he stopped, putting her down. Lex wouldn't see them this far away. He looked at the tiny town in the hills. Maybe too far away. "You okay?"

"Me? Fine." She shivered. "Little on the cold and jarred side, but basically fine." She glanced at the deepening orange sky. "I can get by from here. You just..."

"No. We're too far from town."

"Clark, if you don't get back, I'll never forgive myself. Just..."

"I am going back." He picked her up again. "And you're coming with me." He sped off before she could say another word. He'd explain to Jor-El that he needed to get her home first. Just a little more time...

The sky was fading from orange to purple. He allowed himself a glance west as he ran, clinging to her. He kept north, as the rocks and dirt gave way to snow. He nearly skimmed over the surface of it at full speed, waiting for those crystalline spikes in the distance. If he could just get there...

"No," he breathed as he felt himself slowing. "No." He pressed onward, suddenly feeling the weight of her in his arms, a strange and unpleasant feeling in his limbs...

The fortress. That's what Jor-El had called it. He could almost see it, but it was growing so dark... and that strange feeling came again, that shivery, unpleasant feeling as his steps slowed as the weight of her grew heavier...

He found himself trying to plow forward only to stumble against the knee-deep snow. He tried to keep his grip on her, but she slipped from his arms with a scream, landing a few feet away as his knees buckled and he fell face forward. The snow stung his face and hands, moisture seeped through his clothes. He felt hands turning him over.

He opened his eyes and Chloe's face swam before them. "Clark? Clark, what happened? What's wrong?"

INTRO
PART TWO

Before Sunset (Intro)

2011-10-03T02:26:00.000-07:00

Title: Before Sunset
Author: TheAmazingApe/apeygirl/April
Pairing: Chlark
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Commencement, Arrival, and more...
Short summary: This started with a little rewrite of the end of Arrival. What if that sunset hadn't come so quickly? What if Chloe and a de-powered Clark had to find a way to survive?

Note: This is for Firebunny. Long, long ago, I promised her arctic survival sex (ASS for short) at a time when I promised not to start anything new until I was done my other WIPs, but the girl needed a birthday present and I needed a wee break. Who knew ASS would be so involved?

PART ONE

PART TWO
PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

PART SEVEN

Red Hearted (Or Clark Goes Gay for Metallo) - Conclusion

2011-04-18T02:42:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go. Finally finishing this batch of crazy with part 2.

Aptly named as there's twice as much Hoyay, twice as much terrible alliteration to describe the sexy/evilness of RedKClark, and twice as much breaking of the fourth wall to comment on the utter WTFery of season nine, and twice as much... other stuff. I ran out of things.

Once again, please don't read this. It'll only lower your standing as a sentient being,

PART 2

Clark heard crashing, banging, grunting. Truth be told, it all sounded damned sexy. But that was only because he knew...

His knees weakened with licentious longing as he leaned against the trailer.

He knew that, inside, was the man he loved, lusted after, worshiped and, darn it, just plain liked.

"Damn it," he heard a voice growl... but musically like... like beautiful music. "F*ck this!"

His knees nearly buckled because he did want to f*ck this... but not f*ck. Nothing so crass. There should be tenderness and spooning and maybe a Vermont wedding. Jimmy and Davis were now running a scenic B&B. They could probably get a honeymoon discount.

"It's not working," the love of his life screamed.

He took a deep breath and jumped up and thew open the doors. "Because it's not what you need," he said, ogling the bare-chested, red-hearted paragon with evil eroticism before he recoiled from the green glow all over.

John turned and, out of NOWHERE, just pushed him out of the trailer. "You stay away from me!"

"Why'd you do that?" Clark righted himself.

"Maybe because you're going to try to have sex with me again."

"Exactly." Clark brushed off his coat. "Is it the coat? Because I can get a leather one in, like, ten seconds if this doesn't do it for you." He just knew leather should have been at the top of the list.

"Maybe I don't want to have sex with you," John growled.

Clark laughed with lustful loathesomeness. "Okay. Let's be serious. I mean... Come on."

"I'm out of here,"

"But I can give you what you need," Clark said, then giggled and dipped his head. "I mean I can... get you what you need." He cleared his throat. "You need red kryptonite. I'll get for you and then we can talk about how much I'm gonna give it to you."

"Kryptonite?" John jumped down.

"Oh.... I meant meteor rock, for civilians."

"You mean there's a red kind, too?"

Clark smiled. "Oh, yeah. I only get to have it once every few years, but it's good stuff. You get to rob people and have lots of sex and wear leather and people actually think you're cool for a change."

John nodded. "That sounds okay."

"I can get you some if you just come with me."

"Oh, no!" John backed away again as Clark moved forward. "You just keep away, Loverboy!"

Clark stilled. "We're doing petnames?" He smiled. "I didn't think we were there yet, but I've been trying out a few. Like Daddy Bear. I mean, I'm taller than you, but you give off this comforting kind of..."

"Okay!" John held up a green, glowing vial. "We're not doing pet names and you aren't groping me again and I'm getting out of here, Pervo!"

Clark stared at the ground and backed away. "I don't like that pet name."

"Too f*cking bad," John said, still brandishing the vial. "Now you just stay there and... and..." He turned and ran.

Clark punched the air and sank to the ground. "Why does he always run away?"

"Maybe because you're coming on too strong."

He jumped and found Zod sitting beside him. "Where'd you come from?"

"Oh, well your blood gave me your powers and now I can stalk you all I want and obsess about you having things I don't and listen to speeches about you saving me while I laugh at you behind your back. Just like real brothers." Zod smiled.

"Is that what brothers do?"

Zod shrugged. "I don't know. But it seems about right."

Clark shrugged as well. "I guess." He sighed heavily. "But there's only one man I want stalking me. He's the only man I'll ever love. And he's gone."

"Really? I kind of thought, if any man, that Lex chap..."

"No, that didn't count," he cut in quickly.

"But you two did..."

"That's all in the past. This... this is real. This is love. The second I touched him, I knew..." Clark punched the packed dirt with salacious spitefulness. "Oh, what's the use? He's gone forever and now... I guess I'd better go take it out on Chloe."

"Chloe?"

"Yeah, sure. She's always up for it. Venting, misplaced anger, hours of acrobatic sex..."

"Who's she?" Zod asked with interest.

"Chloe... you know... She used to be a reporter, sidekick and best friend, now she's demoted to dispatcher..."

Zod pursed his lips. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Come on, Chloe... Hoarding kryptonite weapons in case you and your gang ever try to rule the world?"

"Nope. Really can't place..."

"In an alternate future, she led the human uprising and got killed by one of your minions and..."

"Just drawing a blank."

"She's been making all the IDs for you and the others..."

"Oh, Chloe!" Zod snapped his fingers. "That's the one. She must be nice. Bang up job on those IDs. I always fancied Leitenant Zurg-Raf had the air of Ohio about him."

"You never met her?"

Zod shrugged. "No. Seems kind of stupid, now that I think about it. Considering she's such an integral part of everything. You'd think I'd have gotten round to actually meeting her."

"Eh, she's been in the corner all year. Don't worry about it."

"Why's that?"

"Lots of stuff." Clark shrugged. "Too smart, hair's not long and shiny enough, terrible writing, but mostly it's because she stopped having sex with me."

"Really?"

"Been trying to get in her cousin's pants, but I never end up doing it. It's not the same."

Zod nudged his side. "I had Tess, you know."

"Yeah?" Clark turned to him. "What's that like?"

"Intense. That woman has ideas. I'm talking whips."

Clark snorted. "Like that even..."

"With green kryptonite tassels."

"Oh, wow. Ouch!"

"Don't I know it." Zod glanced sideways at him. "Anyway... with you being all uninhibited.... You want to go to Seattle, sit on top of the Space Needle and make it snow? Might be a ripping good time!"

Clark rolled his eyes. "That sounds like a totally lame waste of my inhibition."

Zod considered it. "You're probably right." He stood. "Right. I'll just make mush-mouthed speeches and indulge in extremely boring villainy by myself, then."

"Have fun," Clark said with devilish dismissiveness.

"But might I add... leather. Just a thought."

"Well, I knew that," Clark yelled after Zod as he sped off. "I'm not stupid!"

But maybe he was. He immediately headed to town, thinking of all the minutes he'd wasted. No leather, kidnapping, or car theft in all these minutes. No wonder everything was going wrong. But the minute he busted out of a shop window wearing a leather coat that would put Neo to shame, things started going his way.

He saw him in a dark alleyway, glowing pink in the mist and he nearly ran at him, ready to knock him over with loooove when he saw his hand glowing greenly and gesticulating at a woman.

It looked like Lois. But he really couldn't be bothered with things like her right now. He picked up a trashcan lid and lobbed it.

Unfortunately, it ricocheted off Lois and hit poor John, too.

He sped up and to the figures laying on the ground and bent to check there was a pulse... even on Lois.

"Sorry, Big Daddy!"

He hefted his one true love up and left the spare.

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

"Finally," Chloe groaned as he burst into the Watchtower, his one true love over his shoulder. "I've been waiting for you to get back so I can save this mess."

"What mess?" He said, gently lowering John... Johnny... Daddy Bear to the couch.

"Our entire horrible situation." She sighed and stared at the floor. "I had my part to play, too. I should have never blamed you for letting Davis run off with Jimmy. I mean, if you think about it, we shouldn't need anyone else around or a world to save or any other lame excuses to screw like bunnies for hours on end." She glanced up at him with a teary smile. "It's pretty much you, lots of lube and hydration, and me, in the end. It just makes sense."

Something in him leapt at the idea, then he remembered that Chloe wasn't his one true love. "But Daddy Bear..."

"You're on pet names already?" Chloe sighed and moved to her desk. "Looks like you came to me just in time." She pulled out a lead box and slapped it down. "I'm officially coming out of the corner."

"Wha's happningggg..."

Chloe turned to the man on the couch. Clark did one better and rushed to him. "John... Johnny, my love... Daddy Bear... are you okay?" Clark shook him. "Speak to me!"

John's teeth rattled as his eyes opened. "Oh, my God! You again!"

"He's delirious! He thinks I mean him harm."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Seriously, I can end this now."

"Who says I want it to end?" Clark lashed out with steamy spite. "This is real love."

"No. It's silly. I mean, without the RedK, I'll give you lust and that can be a hell of a lot of fun. But let's create a scenario," Chloe exposited, as was her way, pacing around the room. "Let's say you've been obsessed with the same person for years, then, out of the blue, you pretty much never mention that person again and don't take any time to really get over them and decide you totally love someone else -- once again, out of nowhere. Then this new relationship is pretty much the old relationshio rehashed and over-explained and twice as boring and... I mean... How is that a healthy relationship?"

"What does that have to do with me and Daddy Bear?" he asked, cradling him.

"Nothing, actually." Chloe said, shaking herself. "Just a general observation."

John pushed Clark away. "Would you get the hell off me?" John stood and backed toward the doors. "I don't know what kind of sick games you two play, but I'm not in."

Chloe sighed. "I knew you'd scare him away." She turned on Clark. "You always over-complicate everything."

"What? All I want to do is love him without reserve or shame." He turned to John. "Or protection, by the way. I'm pretty much an alien, so if you have any venereal diseases, they won't do me any..."

"There you go again," Chloe cut in. "You don't lead with VD. No one will want you after that."

"Well, I'm not having sex with him anyway," John yelled. "I'm not gay!"

"Like I am," Clark countered.

"Oh, Clark," Chloe shook her head, "Come on, can't you admit that you're just a little..."

"Of course I'm not."

"But Davis..."

"That was protecting the world."

"And Lex." Her eyes widened with interest. "Actually, you haven't explained that, so if you could... with lots of detail and play-by-play..."

"That has nothing to do with me and Daddy Bear!"

John groaned. "Jesus, would you stop calling me that, Pervo?"

He leaned to Chloe. "We're still working out the nicknames." He turned to John. "But I could live with Pervo if I knew you meant it lovingly."

John growled. "I don't mean it lovingly. I don't love you. And I'm leaving."

"Listen, John. Here's he good news, your new heart doesn't need refueling. You should probably be okay."

"And the bad? Your heart is made of a substance that effects Clark heavily."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting that now," John gruff-voiced with a wave. "Leather, stealing and people think he's cool."

"And sexy. And normally, that wouldn't be a problem, except the traces of it in that lab got into his system. So he's madly in love with you. But once I fix him, he should stop stalking you. But just a tip. If you do bad things and he comes after you, this might happen again. So don't let him touch your heart directly, don't grow your hair long, don't talk about being abandoned by your parents, or ever speak in soft whispers. If you do, even I can't help you."

John eyed her warily. "So you'll fix him and I can go?"

"Sure, as soon as I put a tracking chip in an unnamed part of your body that I can use if you go psycho again. I don't think we can let you just leave without some kind of assurance," Chloe said with resignation. "I mean. last time you were out, you went on a rampage, tried to kill Clark, kidnapped my cousin..."

"That doesn't matter! Stop haranguing the poor man, Chloe!" Clark moved to embrace him, but John pushed him away.

"No. Fine. Whatever. I'm dangerous. Put a chip in me, but tell the red-blue-blade over there that I am never, EVER having sex with him!"

"Okay, okay..." Clark put his hands up. "We don't have to have sex... ever. I can just..." He sighed heavily, "I can just gaze upon you lustfully while I have sex with Chloe."

Chloe put her hands on her hips. "Excuse me?"

"This is just crazy," John exploded.

"Fine," Clark groaned. "I can gaze on you lustfully while you have sex with Chloe." He raised his hand. "With masturbation rights."

"What?"

John nodded and glanced at Chloe. "I think I can deal with that."

"Am I a sex toy now?"

"Of course not," Clark said with loathsome lustfulness. "You're my best ally and whatever. Now will you please have sex with someone?"

"Well, I'm not having sex with anyone until I fix this." She stomped back to her desk and picked up the lead box. "Starting with you," she said. advancing on Clark as she opened it.

He gasped and dropped to the ground in the green glow, thankfully not openly displaying the lengthy constipated look that accompanied greenK exposure... to save time.

She closed the box and bent to him. "Clark? You okay? How do you feel?"

"Repressed, judgmental, and strangely," he smacked his lips and sat up, "like a tool in some ongoing conspiracy to milk a concept until it's nothing more than a dry husk of its former self."

"So back to normal," Chloe said with a sigh of relief. "Can we all strip now?"

"What?" Clark marveled valiantly.

"Whaaaaat?" John helpfully added.

"Well, everything's above-board now." She pulled off her top, "We might as well daisy chain to start."

"Oh, cool." Clark stood and moved toward her.

"You getting in here, Johnny?" she called out, twisting back to him.

'Well, I..."

"No," Clark said with lantern-jawed lustiness. "I'm fine now. No more infection. You can go."

John moved toward Chloe, too. "Well, I don't have anywhere to be..."

Clark pushed John away, taking care not to touch the heart, and pulled Chloe to him. "I thought you said it was going to be you, me, and lube from now on. Besides, I don't have sex with men unless I am protecting the world or they're drunk enough that they don't remember."

"So that explains Lex."

Clark drew back. "I didn't even mention Lex," he deftly denied. "He has nothing to do with anything! How dare you bring him into this! I'll have you know we hardly ever hugged." He leaned in. "Did Tess say something? Because we all know she's delusional."

"But it does explain a lot of the resentment. I mean, if I had hazy memories of this," she said, sliding a hand down Clark's torso, then into his pants, "then nothing, I'd go evil, too." She tilted her head to one side. "I might even prevent you from being with anyone else. Damn." She sighed and licked Clark's neck. "Now it all makes sense."

Clark gasped as she bit just behind his ear. "What does?"

"I mean, I might have thought it seemed petty, Lex using all his resources just to keep you and Lana apart. But he just never knew that all this was why," she finished, pushing Clark's lame coat off his shoulder, then making quick work of his absurdly stupid black t-shirt with the chalk outline. "Anyway, don't be silly. We're all having sex..."

"But m-men," Clark sputtered stoutheartedly.

John backed away. "Yeah. Sorry. I don't do guys."

"And I only do them with extremely good and selfless reasons," Clark declared dauntlessly. "Or if nobody finds out," he added with a heroic hiss.

"I'm not about to do all the work, here," Chloe moaned, then looked them over. "Fine. Clark, I think John needs to be reformed. We're going to have to work at him day and night, pounding into him sense and goodness. I can only do so much," she said, wide-eyed and helplessly. "He needs your leadership and guidance working over every brawny, sweat-kissed inch of him so we can keep the world safe."

Clark drew a deep breath and glanced sideways at John. "Well... It's only fair that we give him a chance."

"And you..." She grabbed John's face and turned it to Clark. "This is about the prettiest man in the free world. Gay, straight... You have to be insane not to want to tap that."

John opened his mouth to argue, then nodded. "Yeah. She's right."

"I am insanely pretty," Clark agreed valorously.

"So enough arguing." She pulled off her bra. "Everyone is having sex with everyone, but mostly with me." She turned to Clark. "To keep the world safe, obviously." She moved to John. "And as a condition of your release." She ran her hands up his mutilated chest. "Even when we let you go, you're going to have to report back for parole meetings. If you don't behave, there might be whippings."

John gazed down at her with villainous vehemence. "And if I do behave?"

Chloe rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. You can have them then, too." She pulled him down by the neck and licked at his lips before pulling away. "By the way, I'm Chloe."

"Nice to meet you," he squeaked just a little as her hand snaked down his pants. He stiffened as he felt Clark against his back.

"Don't worry, John. We'll save you from yourself if it takes all night."

"And several days," Chloe added with satisfaction as John loosened up, slid his face down her chest, and motor-boated. "Just trapped in this tower."

"Starving." Clark lifted his head and moved around John to grope her gallantly from behind. "Unless Dragon Gardens delivers here."

"Oh, they do. Ollie and I..." Her face fell and she drew away from both of them. "I forgot about Oliver."

Clark put a hand comfortingly on her breast. "I don't think we need to worry about him. You see, Oliver went to an all-boys prep school. Plus, he spent a lot of time drinking this year and..."

"I knew it," she said, pulling Clark against her. "My hero."

"Always."

And so it was and always would be. Clark never stopped saving Chloe, forever on her back -- or front -- whenever she needed him... or was bored. Many villains and heroes entered their lives. And Chloe always believed in the power of good in them. She fought desperately to comfort the fallen as Clark pounded goodness and valor into them. Softly comforted fledgling heroes as Clark worked at them tirelessly to mold them to his heroic likeness.

The two of them touched more heroes and villains than any thousand nerds at a Comic Con.

And the world was better for it.

As for Lois... Oops. Sorry. You know, no one kept track. Seriously, they had enough to deal with.

THE END

Red Hearted (Or Clark Goes Gay for Metallo)

2011-04-17T06:14:00.000-07:00

Title: Red Hearted (Or Clark Goes Gay for Metallo)
Author: April (aka apeygirl and TheAmazingApe)
Pairing: Kaloe, Kaltallo (I guess?), mentions of others
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Warning: Smut abounds, sanity... not so much. This fic is pervy, immoral and, should you die reading it, you are going to HELL.
Summary: What if they had succeeded in getting that red K heart into Metallo before Clark investigated and got infected? How might things have played out?
Notes: It's the crackiest possible reimagining of Upgrade I could come up with. I remember when the spoilers for Upgrade first came out, I thought Metallo's new heart being made out of Red K was like a cracky, hoYay dream come true.

Other notes:

It's also kind of a timestamp on Taming The Beast. As in I'm using that continuity (I do plan on having another to explain what REALLY happened with Doomsday at some point)

It also takes advantage of the fact that season nine had Clark drugged up twice. TWICE! And nobody wrote a smutty crackfic.

But this is mostly about Upgrade.

Instead of abusing heroic adjectives and adverbs, I will be abusing the words most often used to describe Kal. Off to brush off my thesaurus. And cruelly abuse alliteration.

Also, this might be terrible. I rattled it off pretty quickly to try to get it in to celebrate Drug An Alien Day and wanted to at least get in a start on that day.

PART ONE

Clark tapped away at Chloe's keyboards with sexy, fiendish concentration. He knew what he had to find. Had known it since the strange moment in the underground lab when everything had become clear. Tess' labs, Zod, Kandorians, whatever the hell Lois was doing. What did any of it matter now? He'd come straight here, not even stopping to steal things, hit on bar skanks, kidnap pregnant women, or shop for leather pants, even though all the impulses were there and had been since he broke into the underground lab.

"Clark Kent at the keyboard," Chloe said behind him. "Have I been downsized in the beaurocratic world of super..."

"Damn it, Chloe! I'm too busy for pithy comments!" Clark snarled depravedly, turning on her.

"See? This is why we don't hang out anymore." Chloe sighed and dropped her purse. "Why do you even keep me around if I can't make pithy comments or wear low cut tops?"

"I never told you to stop wearing low-cut tops." He stared at her grannyish jacket in debauched thoughtfulness. "Why did you, anyway?"

She shrugged. "You didn't deserve to see it anymore. I mean, it's not like we're having sex these days."

"You're right," he said, his voice loathefully, lusciously low. "I could use a distraction. Clear my head. Take off the ugly top."

"What?" She snorted. "You can't be serious."

"I am serious. I'm also selfishly horny and petulant. I have been since I broke into Tess' underground lab earlier." And found love.

She crossed her arms. "You expect me to have sex with you? Now?"

"Yes. Then I want to find another coat, maybe leather this time. Then I want to have sex again. It'll help me think. Then I'll probably want to eat. Then..."

"This is ridiculous! We haven't had sex since Davis and Jimmy elaborately faked their deaths and ran off to Vermont together."

"Exactly. Why is that? It's not like they were really dead."

"Well, someone else was dead."

"What? No one else was dead," he said with impish impatience. "Now could you take off your shirt already?"

She rolled her eyes. "You, Clark. You said you were dead."

"Well, you wouldn't have sex with me anymore."

"Well, you refused to rewind time and stop Jimmy from stealing Davis from us!"

"Davis was cured. He didn't need us to tame his beast anymore."

"That didn't mean we shouldn't have kept trying!" She sighed sadly. "Now all I have is the videos."

"You have videos?"

"Not that I'll show you."

"Fine. Don't. Just have sex with me," he sneered with revolting resoluteness as he leaned down.

"No. Never. You have a girlfriend and I have a... something. We're not labeling it. Anyway, we never just had sex. We protected each other from Davis. With sex. There's a difference. Then you had to go and ruin it by letting Jimmy into the whole thing to steal our..."

"Would you stop harping on that? They were in love!" He sighed. "Like I am now."

"So you and Lois are really that serious? See?" She moved to him. "That's exactly why I don't get your sudden..."

"How can you talk about Lois at a time like this?"

She threw up her hands. "Then with who? And don't you dare say with me because that's not working anymore."

"Fine." He moved to the desk. "Don't have sex with me. I will renew my search for my one true love."

"Is Lois missing?"

"Could you stop talking about Lois? This is serious!" He opened the file he'd brought from the lab, staring at the face he now had memorized in devilish desire. "I might never find him."

"Find who?"

"Corben... John Corben." Clark sighed and clasped the file to his chest. "I wonder if he'd let me call him Johnny?"

"What the hell?" Chloe moved closer and, after a brief struggle, took the file.

"We need to find him." Clark stalked toward the window, smoldering at the city beneath them. "He's out there somewhere."

"I can hardly read it under all the hearts you drew, but... Tess was experimenting on John Corben?"

"How could she?" he growled. "I'll probably take care of her as soon as I have him safe with me."

"And she's experimenting with red kryptonite." She snapped the file shut. "That explains some of this." She moved to him and grabbed him by the jacket. "Okay. Let's get some green stuff and..."

He tore away from her. "Damn it, Chloe! He's missing! I found him in the basement of The Talon. And I... I never felt so connected to someone."

She stared up at him. "Usually, the red K brings up some interesting things, but... You're gay now? Usually it took some heavy foreplay for you to ease into it with Davis, so to speak."

"Not like it was that new. I mean, with Lex..." He shook his head. "Gay, straight... I love him. I'd do anything to find him again. I love his eyes, his stubble, his beautiful, glowing red heart..."

"Okay, we are definitely talking about the Lex thing later with plenty of detail." She nodded. "But now I get it. So John's glowing red heart made you fall in love with him."

"Don't make this cheap! Maybe I loved him all along. It feels like it." He sighed again. "I don't know why we fought last year."

"Maybe because he was trying to kill you?"

"It all seems so far away now."

"So you found him in The Talon and then..."

"I tried to attack him at first. I don't even know why now. It's not like he'd ever hurt anyone."

"Except for how he would and could and has. Go on..."

"One moment I was grabbing him and the next... I was grabbing him and... Then he ran away. I just don't understand why."

"Maybe because a giant superpowered man was trying to have sex with him?" She leaned forward. "How much grabbing was there?"

"Well, first I grabbed his shoulders, then we fell in love, then I ran my hands over his sweat-kissed chest and hot tubes pumping the meteor rock that makes my true love live, then I leaned gently forward for true love's first kiss, then he ran away."

"Yeah." She bit her lip. "That's working for me." She grabbed him. "Clark, strip me!"

"No. You were right before. Why waste precious time? I need to find him!" He said with dastardly determination.

"But I'm supposed to help you clear your head, right?"

He eyed her with loathsome lasciviousness, his eyes flashing red. "It might help."

"Then take a minute and ride me like a rickety roller coaster," she said bravely. "You know I'd do anything to help the cause."

He leaned down.

"Wait!" She pushed him away and paced to the middle of the room. "I mean, I know it's not really sex or cheating if it's for the greater good of finding Corben and keeping him safe, but... Get mad at me." she whispered, turning back to him and licking her lips.

"But I'm not mad. I'm lovelorn. And horny."

"Yes, but if you're mad, I can't possibly defend myself when you have your wicked way with me." She closed her eyes and sagged against the desk. "Oh, Clark. You beast, you reprobate! I am helpless against you!"

He moved to her. "Yeah, you are."

She opened one eye as his hands moved up her legs. "You're not mad. I need you to be mad. Then I know I had absolutely no choice."

"But I'm about to have sex. What's there to be mad about?"

She nodded and stood up. "Then here." She moved to her console and pulled up a map on the big screen.

"What's that?"

"That's a crapload of kryptonite hidden all over. I've been stockpiling it in case your Kandorian buddies get powers and go nuts."

He nodded. "That makes sense, considering what we saw in the future."

"No, no, no!" She moved to him. "It's dangerous and could kill you. Now rip off my top!"

He shrugged in demonic delight and did so. "How dare you!"

"Good. That's good." She laid back on the desk. "Now rail at me about how deceptive and secretive I am."

"You've been decieving me all these years, you secretive slut!" He tore off her jeans

"Oh, please don't hurt me, Clark!" she pleaded, summoning a cower, then straightened. "Okay. Now tell me I'm just like Tess and how this is war and I'm going to lose."

"All that stuff, too!" He raged, making quick work of her panties and bra, then stopped, sighing. "I really missed seeing you naked."

She smiled. "Same. You should tear off your clothes in a fit of destructive anger."

"What?" He looked down. "This is my super badass outfit. It makes me look broody and complicated. I can't just..."

"How are you more dorky than regular Clark?" She leaned back nakedly. "Fine. Just undress speedily and I'll pretend you ripped it off in a fit of rage. And try to be a little mad, here, for my sake."

"I will."

"Does it help if Oliver knows about the weapons, too? Oliver who I have lots of sex with?"

He stilled, nearly naked. "That does make me kind of mad," he said, eyes flashing, "You're off having sex with everyone but me."

"Pfft! Like one guy. Besides, you could be having sex with Lois."

He chuckled. "Be serious."

She nodded. "Anyway, let's clear your head and have angry, barely consensual sex."

"Sounds good," he said, falling on her with poisonous passion.

"Remember," she said, biting at his neck. "This is totally against my will and I'm only putting up with it to help you."

He slid a hand between her legs. "Got it."

"I'm only wet because I'm determined to help despite how awful this is," she said, gripping his cock.

"Very helpful." His head was already clearing. Or at least all the blood was leaving it and settling south. "Pile Driver?"

"Hurts my neck. I think we should just go missionary."

"After all this time? Now I am getting mad," he said fiendishly, his eyes flashing, then burning as he turned away.

The air smoked and, when it cleared, his symbol was burned into her upper wall.

She sighed. "Guess now Watchtower can match the rest of the city."

"People like seeing my glorious symbol. it makes them sleep safe in their beds and helps me remember all the places I've been awesome at."

"Yeah. You and that kid who tags everything Wonka."

"Well, you just want to be boring. I mean missionary, for crying out..."

"Fine, fine. We'll go Earmuffs, then.Feedbag, then headrush..."

"Those are all for you. What about Headrest, Snake Charmer, Plumber..."

"Okay. we'll alternate."

And they did. Segueing into Butterfly, Downstroke, Launchpad, Pirate's Bounty, Prison Guard, a rather difficult bout of Big Dipper, which the desk severely suffered from and a relaxed, if splintery finish in Victory until Clark's mind, among other things, was completely empty.

"Did it work?" Chloe panted against his chest. "I mean, that's the only reason this happened. That and brute force."

He rolled over and took her with him. "I don't think there's anything in my head."

"So normal, then," she sighed. "Okay. Give me a minute to hydrate and we'll try again. Maybe a lube run. This might call for.body guard or jockey or..."

"Wait. I have a thought."

"Oh?" She pouted and rolled off him. "Darn."

"You have green kryptonite stockpiles."

"Yes. And?"

"Well, it's not like there are red kryptonite stockpiles."

"Mores the pity." She frowned. "But John knows he needs it to survive. He might just try the green out."

"Exactly. You're a lifesaver, Chloe." He disappeared, as did his clothes.

"Wait! You were supposed to tell me about Lex!" She groaned and fell back among the pieces of her broken desk. "Take what you need and leave. Just like regular Clark."

PART TWO (Conclusion)

Action Time (Chapter Twelve)

2011-03-18T22:04:00.000-07:00

And here it is! Already. I'm on a roll this week!

Finishing up with Checkmate here.

Chapter Twelve

As if this day wasn't bad enough. First Oliver missing, now John was sneaking around outside the group. She hoped, truly hoped, that he wasn't working against them. Even more, that it hadn't been going on this whole time. But he couldn't be. Not John. John always made her feel important. John always gave her a nudge when he felt she might need it. Not that he eavesdropped on her thoughts. But he always seemed to know just what to say when she felt lost. She'd caught only snatches of his short conversation with Clark near the tracks, but he picked up that earwig. He was investigating. So maybe he was going a bit rogue, investigating on his own. Lord knew she couldn't lay into him too much for that. Not with Clark, almost the king of rogue these days, pacing around her upper level, being horribly impatient.

"Chloe?" She heard him coming down as she tapped away. "Seems to be taking longer than normal to find an earwig serial number."

And unnapreciative. She wanted to give him a sassy apology about how sorry she was, apparently, not fast enough for him. But they were working together tonight, for a change. She didn't want that to stop. Not with with Oliver missing. Besides, there was no time for feelings. Whatever John knew, she needed to know yesterday. "That's because someone's hidden it, but after cross-referencing those last four digits, Clark, I think that the earpiece in John's pocket was government-issued."

She moved to her desk, wondering if she could narrow it down by organization or...

"Why would the government take Green Arrow?" Clark asked behind her.

She wanted to ask if he was kidding. She was sure the government would be happy to get a hold of anyone on this team, but then she heard something. Something that made this horrible day, even some of this horrible year, melt away. She turned.

"Considering what I pay out every year, it better not be for tax evasion."

Stupid jokes. She'd been out of her mind all night and Oliver was making stupid jokes. "Oh, my god. You're safe," she breathed, launching herself at him. She briefly considered giving him two tight slaps for being perfectly fine while she was envisionioning torture and beheading. But all she wanted to do was hold on tight. Maybe he was wearing her down. Maybe she was just a little crazy about him.

"I'm safe," he said softly as she touched his face, making sure he wasn't hurt and, really, just to touch him.

He leaned down, his nose brushing hers, started to whisper something...

"I'm glad you're safe, too." She pulled away just slightly, registering that Clark was talking. "You want to fill us in on what happened?"

"Definitely, she said, feeling a silly grin on her face.

"Absolutely." Oliver moved away. "Uh, so let's see. One minute, I am saving someone's bacon. Uh, next thing I know, I'm the only pig on a Pork Chop Express." His jokes were really devolving. He must be tired. She was glad when he sat. "Some harpy gets on a monitor. She starts telling me this is the welcome wagon and she's recruiting heroes for the U S of A. I'm guessing you didn't get the Evite," he said, gesturing at Clark.

"No, someone else did." Clark turned to Chloe. "And that explains why John Jones was covering for them."

Chloe nodded, still hoping that John, whatever he was into, would let them in. She'd found the footage of him with an unknown man earlier, but hadn't shared it yet. There hadn't been time. Clark had come in with the serial number and now Ollie was back...

"Did this woman give you her name?" Clark was asking him.

"Nope. No name. Just that her organization was called Checkmate."

Chloe's mind latched on to the word. "Wait a minute. Checkmate? When Sylvester Pemberton from The Justice Society was murdered, he warned me that, 'They came after us, and they'll come after you.' His dying word was check."

"If he meant Checkmate," Clark said. "These are the same people who took down the JSA."

Chloe felt strangely nervous as she moved to her monitors, pulling up footage. Pieces of little puzzles were falling in place. She'd been so distracted when Clark brought her the serial number that she hadn't fit this piece in yet. "I searched the archived security footage that was taken from the cameras across the city." She stopped on the image of John with the mystery man. "This was taken a few hours ago." She highlighted the man and let her engines loose, turning back to Oliver, wondering if he'd seen the man. If this guy was among the ones who took him, then she could be sure John had been trying to get him out. Maybe gone rogue, but still with them in the end.

"That was right after I confronted him. Clark said, squinting at the monitor. "Who's he talking to?

She focused on her monitor again at a small beep. "We got a hit from the passport agency. Edward Lott. He's the CEO of a consumer manufacturing company. He seems pretty high-profile for a secret-agent man."

Oliver chimed in. "Well, maybe they recruit people that are already established in the private sector."

"Or plant them there," Clark said levelly.

A series of noises brought her eyes back to her search for the man... which seemed to be at an end now.

"You're not gonna be happy where he was planted next. Within an hour after this footage was taken, he was on the list at Metropolis General morgue." She glanced back at Clark, thinking of his conversation with John, how he wanted Clark to stay out of this. John wasn't the enemy. But how rogue might he have gone? Please no...

Oliver looked between both of them. "Whoa, slow down, guys." He stood. "You can't think John murdered this guy. Come on, now."

She didn't know what to think. She didn't want to think about it at all. Clark looked ready to go, though.

"Clark, I'll come with you," she said quickly, moving to grab her things. "I can run some..." And he was gone. "Support on site," she finished, disappointed. That seemed to be how it went these days. Clark just left. She'd thought tonight would be different. She'd thought they were a team again, that maybe she and Clark could stop shutting each other out and... Not be what they used to be. That was gone now. But something like it.

"Looks like you got benched," Oliver said lightly.

She knew what he was trying to do, what with how she poured her heart out about the distance between her and Clark after her birthday party. And she didn't have time to be made to feel better. In fact, she decided she didn't need to. She was used to this, wasn't she? She still had a job to do. She moved toward Oliver, trying to put everything together. "Sylvester Pemberton came to warn me about Checkmate the moment that he was attacked by..."

"Icicle," Oliver finished for her. "Huh. Well, either that's quaintly coincidental or he's working for the same lovely lady whose gaze wilts small trees. What do you think?"

"Last I heard, he was in the psych ward at Met Gen," she said, glad someone wanted to know what she thought. Then, Oliver usually did these days. She was glad of that.

"Let's go," he said in a voice that was only missing a leather hood and a bow.

No. Not tonight. Not after everything. She grabbed his arm as he moved past her. "You know, Oliver?" He turned back to face her. "Now that Green Arrow is officially on Checkmate's radar, I think it might be a good idea for you to just hang your tights for one night. Go civilian."

Oliver looked like he might protest. And he did, but not about staying. "Well, t-they're not tights." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "They're not tights." He rolled his eyes. "But I see your point. Yeah." He grunted and his face grew a little tight. "Unfortunately for me, that means attending a LuthorCorp shareholder dinner, which..Yeah, I'd rather be shot at."

She chuckled and grabbed at her bag and coat, glad he was listening to her.

"Hey, Chloe."

She turned back, hoping he wasn't going to try to make her stay, too. As much as she'd love to, after almost losing him tonight, she had to help neutralize this new threat, make sure it was safe for him to be back out there.

"Um, just I was just gonna say, be careful out there, because... there's Checkmate agents everywhere, so... be careful," he finished, sounding just a little sheepish.

She smirked and raised an eyebrow, tempted to tease him. Considering how hard he needled her for wanting him safe earlier... But she wouldn't. He'd had a hard night. She just smiled and left, thinking she'd give him a little hero's welcome and a hard time later.

An hour later, when she'd been knocked out, trussed up, manhandled, then marched around with a sack over her head, she kind of wished she'd said something, anything to him. She'd only gone to Met Gen to look into Pemberton. Just light research, she thought. She should have been more careful. Should have known this went deep. Should have known that the very unfirendly Doctor Brenner was likely part of it. From CEOs to psych ward doctors. Checkmate seemed to have a finger in every pie.

She was forced to her knees and the sack came off. She rather wished it hadn't.

She stared in panic at the black and white tile under her, the white walls around her, gave half a glance to the black clad men around her. This was Checkmate's headquarters. A little on-the-nose, but how could it be anything else? And now she could see it. Why let her see? They'd taken Oliver, wanted to recruit him. What did they want with her? Maybe nothing. She was no superhero. It was possible she was just an annoying stranger who asked the wrong question of the wrong person at the wrong time, very easily disposed of. She thought of Oliver and Clark, Bart and John, Dinah and AC, Zan and Jayna. They'd all have a plan B for this. She didn't. She was supposed to be surrounded by monitors, keeping them safe. She had no tricks and gadgets in the field. She had no field these days.

It's not like she hadn't been in this situation before. She'd been tied up, hung from celings, bound to chairs and operating tables, beaten and tortured. She might have racked up more time in bondage than anyone she knew. And she usually only had one weapon to get her out or buy her time. And that weapon had a tight gag on it. It was just as well. None of the men around her seemed open to dialogue. They looked like soldiers... or pawns, she thought madly, looking at the checkered floor.

She let them pull her to her feet, drag her to a chair. She had no other choice. Especially not when the one stationed in front of her chair was holding a gun and looked like he wasn't too bothered by pulling the trigger. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the shot. So that's how it was. She was just a nuisance who was about to be swatted away. She felt strangely resigned. This was bound to happen. She'd walked this line since she was twelve, when she'd snuck into her junior high principal's office to prove he was keeping liquor in his desk. He was, but that didn't prevent her school from suspending her and her father from moving them to Smallville thinking the scenic land would have a calming influence on her. Funny how things turned out.

She'd been caught snooping before, not as many times as she got away, but enough that she'd been in this spot before and had to do some fast talking until Clark... Clark. She'd never see him again. She wondered whether that would matter to him. It mattered to her, even after everything this year, being in his life would always matter. But Ollie... She choked on her gag and a few sobs as she remembered him, looking worried through his smile as she left. He was waiting for her. That Luthorcorp dinner must be over by now. She wondered if he'd blame himself. She hoped he wouldn't. She knew, looking back, that this fate was in store for her all along.

Maybe it was better in the end, that she hadn't admitted it. Not that she doodled his name on a notebook and dreamed of greeting him with martinis and foot rubs. It was kind of cute, how he could take an idea and exaggerate it to epic proportions. Such a brat sometimes. But she was crazy about him. He was right about that. She didn't know why saying it was so scary. It wasn't just because he grinned like a jackass whenever she seemed to show it. But because... it isn't what you do. You just don't tell people that kind of thing. To give them that power over you... Still, maybe she would have told him tonight. She wished she'd had a chance to... But no. Maybe he could let her go easier now. Now she was still technically just a fling. That might be easier on him when that trigger was pulled... or if that trigger was pulled.

She opened her eyes, thinking that somewhere in her inner monologue, she should have been shot dead. She opened her eyes and looked up, into the cold, almost robotic eyes of the man with the gun. He was just staring at her, his gun still in his hand, but pointed at the floor. But his arm was straight, tense, and his mouth was one thin line and his eyes were barely on her. He didn't seem to be thinking of her at all. His head was cocked to the side, as if listening. She noticed the very small bud in his ear and the clear, twisted wire. It looked like what Clark had described of the earwig John found by the tracks. Well... obviously. He was with Checkmate. The only question left was why she hadn't been shot yet. He seemed to be waiting.

She stared at the man for what could either be seconds or hours, tried to think if she should be grateful for more time to say goodbye to her life, such as it was, or if she should be upset that they were dragging this out. She looked into her executioner's eyes and wondered if he actually saw her as more than some task to carry out, live or die based on some whim neither she nor he had control over. She couldn't speak, but she tried to communicate. Whatever she was to this shady organization, she was still a someone. She had things, perfectly harmless things, she'd like to do. She'd never taken up gardening or pottery or cooking beyond the microwave. She couldn't promise that she'd do these things and never ever engage in subterfuge again. Hell, she couldn't even promise she'd actually do these things. But shouldn't she have the option?

He raised the gun, his eyes still untouched, and she realized he just didn't care. How sad for him. It was the strangest thing to focus on. But she knew she could never live like that, under someone else's command with no feelings or thoughts of her own. No mercy. She suddenly had flashes of a man, a fairly helpless man in a hospital bed. Had she shown mercy? The events were still a blur, but she saw them. Saw her own hands, heard her own voice and she knew that, were she to die right now, that would be her purgatory.

She was raised a not-quite-practicing Irish Catholic, after all. As disinterested as her religious upbringing had been, she'd caught the odd reference when her father had sudden attacks of guilt and dragged her to mass on holidays. Purgatory. It made sense in a way that Heaven or Hell didn't. It was somewhere between good and bad, like most people. Like this world. She'd often romanticized it in her mind as where people had a fighting chance, whatever they'd done. The good ones might look over a few white lies and silly mistakes, watch them like a movie and cry and rend their garments, before getting that pat on the head and sent to Heaven where they belonged. The bad ones would have to see the horrible things they'd done, but maybe also the horrible things that led them to doing them. It might take more time, but they had that chance because of all the horrible things that made them do horrible things. What was her excuse? Her father was indulgent, if a little indifferent. There was no excuse for murdering a fairly harmless man in a hospital bed.

She'd seen it a million times, relived it before quickly pushing it away over and over. Felt herself screaming in protest deep inside as she merely touched him and he went still and cold. Cold as she was, even as she screamed inside. Her chances of Heaven were slim. Maybe Purgatory would give her a shot. It was all the hope she had left as the man's finger curled around the trigger... then the room went black.

She'd think his gun was silent, but then the lights flickered and she heard her executioner's voice.

"Come in, White Queen," he barked in a monotone. "Come in, White Queen," he repeated. The lights still flickered and the men around him shifted in ways they hadn't up till now, as if confused. "I'm showing external power breach." He didn't sound too sure of himself, either. "Am I clear to shoot? Over."

But he didn't seem to wait. She saw that finger curl further, as if on reflex as shouts and thumps sounded in the flickering darkness. She heard the gun's loud report and waited for nothingness, but saw a... hand.

Clark! She knew it even before he was crouching in front of her, gripping her arms and speeding her away from death. Like so many times before. She gripped him back as best she could as they moved through the city and reflected that this was why she'd held on to him long after she should have let go. It was hard to let go when he finally, inevitably, came through.

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

She saw Oliver, moving down Fourth Street, his hands in his pockets, and she couldn't stop her smile. He wasn't smiling. He looked strangely sad. But then he looked up and he did smile.

"Hi," she said, not having anything else. You'd think, having cheated death, she'd have something better to say, but she was just so damned happy to see him again.

"Hey, he said, his smile growing wider.

"Thanks for keeping my seat warm at Watchtower," she said, walking backward, not wanting to take her eyes off him just now.

"Well, you're welcome. Don't get used to it."

"Oh, but your timing is so good," she said, facing forward and falling into step with him, unable to resist glancing up at him. "I mean, if you hadn't flipped that Castle's electric switch when you did, I would have b..."

"Chloe..."

His tone held a warning note, but she couldn't resist a little tease. Wasn't life a bit short, anyway? "But, you know, I kind of liked being out in the field, knowing I had a warm bed to come home to..."

"That's very, very funny." He gripped her arm and pulled her back to face him.

She'd been ready to launch into him waiting for her with a Cosmopolitan and an apron, but he looked rather serious.

"It scared the life out of me," he said, not a hint of a smile.

Yet she found herself smiling just a little. "You better be careful, Ollie. I'm gonna start to think you're falling for me."

He did smile then, even with that telltale roll of his eyes as she gripped his hand and led him... home? Well, Watchtower was kind of home these days. She certainly spent more time there than her supposedly official home address at The Talon. Come to think of it, he did, too.

"Is it too much too hope," she asked, pulling him behind her, "that you have a hot meal waiting for me? I mean, I just spent a hard night out in the field, risking life and limb and..."

He drew up against her, sliding an arm around her waist. "You think you're pretty cute. Don't you?"

"No. You do. I bet you compose the most adorable little sonnets to me, staring tearfully at my picture in the vain hope..."

"Hardy-har." He bumped her forward.

She chuckled, trying to move down the street with a large man flattened to her back. "Well, I did have a hard night at the office, anyway. If it weren't for you, that bullet would have hit home way before Clark found his way to me."

"You might have to thank Tess for some of that," he grunted in her ear, gripping both of her hands. "I certainly won't."

"Tess?"

"She told me how to shut down the power grid at Checkmate. But don't be too grateful. She tried to kill me at least twice before that."

"They wanted me," Chloe said, still dazed as she moved down the street. Clark had let her in on Waller and what Tess had let slip. "I thought I was just... collateral damage to them. And I was the target."

"I guess you're more valuable than you think."

"Well, not me. But what I know." She pulled free and turned to him. "They wanted all of you. They thought I was the way to get the Blur to give it up. Get my database." She dropped her smile and stood still. "I had a gun in my face and I felt like I was nothing but what I knew and... isn't that what I am?"

His eyes clouded over and he leaned in. "This sounds like sad birthday talk. You aren't a search engine, Chloe. Did Clark make you feel..."

"No," she cut in quickly. "This wasn't about Clark. Clark... Well, he tried to apologize, if you can believe it. He told me he appreciated what I've done and... and he apologized to me."

He drew back slightly. "Are we talking about the same Clark?"

"We are," she said, still a bit dazed. It wasn't just about Clark. She'd seen him this year, seen the things he'd done. Burning those towers regardless of the damage, choking Tess, starting a relationship with Lois yet refusing to even consider telling her just what she was getting into. She'd watched and she'd judged. But she had no room to judge, did she? "I think I dreamed of every word falling from him and yet it felt wrong," she said softly. "Maybe I don't deserve it. I've screwed up, Ollie. The things I've done..."

"Hey, hey..." He pulled her to him. "You surveilled a bit too heavily, but you had your reasons. You wanted us all safe and..."

"Ollie, no." She pushed away, sniffling. "I've done things I... I can't even defend... Last year, you even said..."

"You know what?" He gripped her shoulders and met her eyes. "You might want to forget anything I ever said under the thrall of deep alcohol psychosis."

"Oliver..."

"Seriously, take half of this year and chuck it. We all know my old pal, Scotch, had a heavy hand in it. Anyway, you've hardly asked me about my night. I'm starting to think your notebooks are sadly empty of my name and all those little hearts. Do you like me even a little?"

"Shut up," she sniffed, pushing at him. "Fine. What happened to you?" she asked, moving backward.

"Same as you, I guess. My not-quite-ex attempted to curry favor with me by saying sorry. Didn't exactly land, in my case."

"Did Tess really try to kill you?"

"Definitely. If you think you and Clark have issues, let me tell about my supposedly safe dinner at the stately Luthor Manor and Tess' knife-throwing skills."

Chloe broke free. "Where is she now?"

Oliver caught her arm. "Whoa! She's likely on the run. Checkmate doesn't take kindly to agents that share their secrets,"

"So she really did..."

"Help us? Yes. That doesn't mean she gets a free pass on every nefarious move she pulled. But she can fend for herself. We're square with her." Oliver turned and pulled her sideways and she found herself on Watchtower's steps with him. He nudged her up them. "Hey. My gear... I mean, it doesn't really come off as tights, right?"

She turned and pulled her keys from her pocket. "Tights? You? Never!"

"Ha-hah!" He was at her back as she opened the door. "It's just that Tess said it and..."

She pulled him in and shut the door, frowning. "Oh, if Tess said it, then..."

"Well you said it, too. And then she did. Tights, damn it! And both in the same night and..." He drew in a deep breath. "I mean, should I get it tailored a little looser or..."

"Please," she cut in, smiling now. She yanked at him as she pressed the UP button. "Don't. Ever."

He smirked at her as the elevator doors slid open. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were ogling me all this time."

She laughed and moved in. "Now, that would be unprofessional. I just want to make sure you don't get caught on nails and roof shingles."

"So it's all about safety?" He moved in after her. "Should I get one of those bright orange vests now?"

She managed a shrug as the doors slid shut and she pressed her button. "If you like."

It didn't light up until she pulled out the panel and put in her code, something she put in just in case someone tried to access her floor without clearance.

"You can't even admit that much?" he said, leaning against the opposite wall.

She lounged against her own wall and sighed, smiling to herself. "What are you chattering on about now?" She just couldn't help it. After tonight, she needed to have a little fun.

"Fine. No more leather. I'll get some nice green wool."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Much more practical."

"Nice, scratchy green wool," he said as the elevator dinged through floor after floor.

"Should be very warm for winter."

"Exactly. I'll get some long sleeves and..."

"Don't you dare!" She launched herself at him, moving her hands around his waist, underneath his leather jacket.

"Ah! I've found your weakness," he fairly purred, sliding his own hands to her hips.

"You knew," she laughed, pulling him back as the doors slid open on Watchtower.

"Sure I knew. You want me. And my delicious arms. You've said it, but I didn't want to use it for evil till now. But I might."

"And how evil are you getting?"

"I'll make you say you more than want..." He stopped himself. "Nevermind. I think it's been long night." He shook his head and prodded her in as the doors slid open with a hiss. "I think we're tired. So... fine. Don't say it."

"Don't say what?" she repeated, playing it a bit dumb as she moved in ahead of him.

"Hey, you're alive. That's going to have to do for tonight."

She let out a laugh, moving to the kitchenette. "Fine. If you don't want me to say it..."

"Oh, no. We're not twisting this around on me. I've been on tenterhooks about you saying it. But you still won't." He gave long and slightly exaggerated sigh behind her.

She smiled as she pulled out a water bottle. "It's not as easy as you think," she said, her smile fading as she peeled at the label. "I mean, there's this gulf between what you think and what you say. Isn't there? You need to come off right. Come off strong and resilient and independent." She turned around, leaned against the counter, but didn't look up. "Because you can't just say it out loud. Then they have the power and power is... scary. They might realize they don't want that power. Maybe they..."

"Maybe they aren't complete chickensh*t. But go on."

She let out a dry laugh and looked up. "You know, really, this is more just interaction in general. I think women, and men to some extent, are kind of programmed not to let things out. Like, when you have a crush, they say not to let him know or to ignore him. And it's all games and you'd think grown-ups would be beyond that, but..."

"Yeah. I'm going to have to interrupt the dissertation and tell you to say it. You're c... c... cr... cra..." His hand made several little circles as he moved closer to her. "Just sound it out. You got this."

She pulled her lips together and turned back to the counter. "You know, when you get all smug and bratty, it doesn't exactly make me want to say anything nice about you. Ever."

He only laughed and leaned into her, brushing his lips along her neck. "Oh, just say it. I might even say it back."

She pulled the last of her label off as he hit a spot that made her shiver. "Fine. I'm... Mmmm. That's nice."

His lips were gone, then. "No. Focus. Out with it. You were just about to say..."

"I'm crazy about you," she breathed, reaching behind her to pull him back down.

"Atta girl. Of course, now I have all this power. What to do..." He pulled at her blue blazer. "I'm going to banish this. No more layers."

"You're kind of power-mad," she laughed, letting him peel it down her arms.

"I'm just getting the taste for it. I'm going to outlaw this blouse and decree that you go topless for the foreseeable future." His hands went to the buttons.

"No." She stayed his hand and turned. "You have a bad rep with my tops."

"If you'd be diplomatic enough to wear stretchy, form fitting ones, we wouldn't have these squabbles."

She pulled it over her head and pushed at his jacket. "Well, I have room to squabble. You're welshing."

"Me? I will be just as naked as you. Even more if you leave those heels on."

She wanted to laugh, but she didn't. "You said you'd say it back."

"Mmm? Oh, no. I just said I might. I actually can't stand you. But I'm very flattered by your little crush on me." He shucked both his shirts off and tossed them away. He grabbed at her belt loops and pulled her forward. "Can I banish pants now? Mostly for you?"

"Ollie..."

"Of course I'm crazy about you," he whispered, brushing her nose with his. "And you know it."

She supposed she did, but that didn't stop what she knew might be the goofiest of grins. "So what is it about me that most makes you want to book time at Belle Reve? Is it my killer body or my biting wit or..."

"Definitely those," he cut in, sliding his hands to her back and down. "That and an ass that won't quit." He leaned in for a kiss.

She frowned against his lips.

He laughed. "Not as fun as you thought, is it?"

"Not really. No."

"Maybe if I got all blushy and huffy like you..."

"I was hardly huffy," she said, even knowing she had been. "I just tried to ignore your silly little..."

"But I'm kind of hard to ignore," he said, his hands still in her belt loops as he pulled her backwards.

"You kind of are," she had to agree.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
TBC

Going into Upgrade next. Not so much the ep itself as Ollie didn't appear in it, so it's not Chlollie heavy, but into the aftermath of it as I think Ollie would, if he knew of Clark pushing Chloe around in it, have a little something to say about it... or a lot.

Action Time (Chapter Eleven)

2011-03-17T20:12:00.000-07:00

And here we are! I will tell you that this story will get a lot more attention. It's now my life's mission to finish it ASAP as I signed up for a charity auction piece.

Picking up from the last chapter with some productive pillow talk, spoiling Checkmate after.

Chapter Eleven

Elevator sex was kind of a thrill, but there was something to be said for straight-up bed sex. You could lie in naked languor afterwards. There wasn't much languor in the elevator. They'd had to scramble to finish dressing when, against all odds, a slightly drunk guy called the elevator from the lobby. She'd reactivated everything frantically, closed the Watchtower panel, then searched in blind panic for her panties when she realized they were bunched around her torso. Oliver must have given them a rip and she hadn't even noticed. She'd have lit into him for that if she didn't have three of his shirt buttons stuffed in her pocket. Also, she was too busy trying not to laugh as they huddled at the back and tried to look nonchalant about staying on the elevator when it reached the lobby, usually a getting-off point.

Oliver didn't help, making innuendo-laden small talk. The man was too drunk to get it, but Chloe choked on stifled giggles. She let them out when he got off on the ninth floor, slapping at Oliver. "Why did you torture me?"

He grinned and grabbed her hands. "Because you're cute when you turn purple."

They laughed all the way up to the Watchtower, wrestled a little as she attempted to get in at least one quality slap, then they'd wrestled some more until things got horizontal and the laughing stopped.

She reached her hands to the back of the couch, bracing her feet against the pull-out mattress and giving herself a nice stretch. Her back and neck cracked just a little and she waited for another one. There was nothing, though, just a pleasantly drowsy sort of ache all over. It wasn't the alcohol, not by now. It was something she noticed lately. It used to be that she'd stretch and a small series of crackles and pops would sound out from every joint. Not so much now. Maybe that was what going with the flow did for a girl... at least with Oliver.

She pulled the covers up and ogled Oliver just a little as he moved very nakedly back to the couch with a bottle of water. He didn't sit down, just stood there, taking a long gulp before he held it out to her. "Want some?"

"Thanks." She took it and sipped, wondering why he was still standing. "Aren't you staying?"

He shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you still want me to after we talk."

"Talk?" She groaned. "I really just want to go to sleep."

"This won't take long."

"But I'm tired," she said, trying to dredge up a lazy smile. She knew what he wanted to talk about. She'd thought their little bout in the elevator would fix this, but he still had that mildly sulky look about him. "I mean, it's my birthday, Oliver."

He chuckled and nodded to the clock.. "Not anymore, so..." His eyes widened. "I almost forgot." He scampered toward her console, which was kind of a funny sight in the nude. He pulled a gigantic, shiny, silver bag from behind her desk.

She sat up. "I thought the party was my present."

"Considering how much you bellyached about no party, I figured I'd need a kickass present to make up for forcing it on you." He dropped it on the bed.

"Well, I liked the party. And no one was attacked by a sea monster, so you don't have to..."

"Shut up and open it," he said, sounding slightly giddy as he pulled his boxers on.

"Fine," she said, though she felt a little giddy herself as she grabbed the bag. It was huge. Getting a huge present was always a bit of a thrill. She dug in, noting that there were three boxes in all the tissue. She grabbed at the smaller one on top and it spilled out on the bed.

"A...usb coaster," she read out loud. "What the..."

"It's no ordinary coaster. See, you plug it into your usb port. It keeps hot beverages hot and cold ones cold and... you know... it's for your coffee. Speaking of that..." He dug into the bag, tearing it down one side.

She laughed. "I'm supposed to open it."

He pulled back. "Fine. But it isn't every day a guy finds the perfect gift. Take it out, take it out..."

"Okay. Calm down." She tumbled the box onto the bed. "Kuerig," she read. "A coffee maker? But I have a..."

"It's not a coffee maker. It's a state of the art, single cup coffee maker."

She shook her head and smiled. "This is such a guy thing. You have to buy some crazy gadget when I have a perfectly good..."

"This thing?" He got up and moved to the small kitchenette and pointed accusingly at her dependable drip. "Makes the worst coffee. It's either too weak because all the water leaks out or too strong because the pump won't suck it up. And it's at least ten years old."

More like fifteen. It had been in her old house. She'd made her first cup of coffee with it. "It's vintage."

"The carafe is cracked."

"Only a little. Plus, the crack makes a nice, tinkly popping sound when it gets hot enough so I know to turn it off."

"You never turn it off. You drink two thirds, then you leave the rest to crust in the pot so this place always smells like burnt coffee."

"It's my... signature smell," she said, knowing it sounded stupid. But, darn it! How could she be expected to just use some new coffee maker out of the blue. "I could just leave this one on, too."

"Ah, but you can't. It only makes one cup. See, you leave it filled with water and you pop these little cups in and put your mug underneath and it makes your coffee."

"But just one cup," she said tensely, still resisting the change. "See, when my cup gets cold, I top it off with the rest in the pot and..."

"And your USB compatible warmer will keep your coffee hot," he finished.

That did sound convenient. But he looked too smug. "So I have to fill it with one cup's worth of grounds every time I..."

"Nope." He upended the bag and last box tumbled out amid the tissue. "Tiny, perfect cups filled with a variety of tiny, perfect coffees."

She eyed the box. "100 K-cups... Well, that won't last me a..."

"Month? I know. There'll be a new box here every two weeks for at least a year. Perfect gift!" he finished triumphantly, kneeling up on the bed. "I win!"

She opened her mouth, trying to think of a reason he didn't win. But he kind of did. "You win," she conceded.

"Well, don't sound so miserable about it. Don't you like it?"

"I do like it. I love it. Come her." She pulled him down and brushed his lips. "Thank you."

"Winning is all the thanks I need," he said against her lips, moving fully onto bed and pushing all the boxes to the floor before pulling her to his side.

She leaned on his shoulder. "Poor Leonard's going to feel so left out," she sighed.

He snorted. "Only you would name your coffee maker."

She poked his ribs. "I mean Leonard who runs the coffee cart. I usually get it from him. My machine makes horrible coffee."

"She admits it," he said with a chuckle, settling in. "Wait... we need to talk."

She frowned, hoping this gift had derailed the talking. "Aren't we too tired to talk?"

"A little, but..." He pulled the covers over both of them and turned to her. "Listen... We both know that this isn't some serious thing. But it also know it isn't... not that."

She sat up quickly. "Well, yeah. I'm not excluding the possibility. But I thought we agreed that we weren't worrying about the..."

"Well, this is something worth worrying about, so let me finish before you start twitching." He lightly gripped her arm. "Just tell me honestly. What if this became... something? Is Clark something that's going to hang over my head?"

"I told you he never saw me that way and I moved on and..."

"And what if he suddenly did?"

"But he wouldn't..."

"Humor me, Chloe," he said, his hand cupping her shoulder. "Would it change everything?"

She stared at him. He was silent and serious, waiting for some definitive answer that she couldn't give because it wasn't so easy to sum up. "No," she tried, going for the short version.

"And I can just... believe that?"

She threw herself back to the couch bed. "Are you basing this sudden paranoia off you now knowing we kissed a couple times about a million years ago?"

"I'm basing this off the many times you've given up everything to keep Clark safe." He laid down as well. "And you can't tell me that was just about the good of the world." He turned to her. "You loved him."

"Of course I did," she burst out. "But that didn't mean I... loved him." She shook her head, knowing it didn't make sense. "I don't know how to expain it. It wasn't like I was moping after him, hoping my years of service would make him suddenly turn to me and see..." She took a deep breath. "That's not right either. Loving Clark..." She took another deep breath and wondered that she had to think to take it. Usually, a person could just breathe without thinking it through. "Loving Clark was like breathing," she said softly. "I knew it was something I did, but it was hardly conscious. There it was. I could go about my day, work, save the world, date even. And loving Clark was underneath it all. And I think, for years, even under everything, I wondered what we could have been if.... God, if a million things had been different. Every time he saved me or I saved him or we hugged, I wondered for a split second... But that was the as far as it went. You don't know what it's like for those of us on the edge of your world. It's hard to be so near someone who can do such amazing things and not feel swept up in them."

"So it was hero worship?"

"That's only one side of it. The rest was just... Clark. There was something almost naive about him, something earnest and sweet. It was hard to let go of that guy and let go of the wondering, but I finally had to."

"Because he didn't feel the same way."

"No. Because I didn't feel the same way around him. After Jimmy died and he walked out. It was just... gone. I still believed in him, believed he could do great things, but that sweet farm boy was gone and all those feelings went with him and... I didn't know how to exist without feeling that way. I didn't know how to be around him. Luckily, he wasn't around me, so I didn't have to worry about that. Then he came back and I still had no idea who he was to me or me to him. He... I don't know. He changed. We changed. Us being together stopped being friendly. it was all world-ending, disaster-averting support. It was like we couldn't just talk anymore like we used to. I wasn't his friend Chloe who happened to help save the world. I was his... secretary almost. It was everything I didn't want to be. Even before I knew his secret, I'd be... technical support. Look up this, research that and... I don't know. One day I looked up and everything I feared was true, Everything that made us friends was gone. It felt like a nasty break-up, almost. I don't know how you break up when you never dated, but it felt that way. It was hard to be near him. It... it's hard to be near him still."

"That much is obvious. Can't you two just talk like normal people?"

"I don't know if we can. It's hard to go back to that after you've stopped... connecting. So I let it go. I just stopped trying. It was easy. I mean, he'd stopped trying so why shouldn't I..." She took a deep breath. "Maybe that's not fair. It wasn't just him. It was me, too. After a while, being around him felt... stifling. As if I was nothing but some kind of leg to stand on and if I ever moved, he'd fall. I had to move away from that. I couldn't be that, It felt like I was drowning at first. I didn't know who I was if I wasn't Clark's girl friday. But then I thought I should just do the job. Be the job. Become no one. Not just to him. To everyone. Just an eye in the sky. A faceless presence. It felt easier. I don't think I even knew I was miserable." She gave a hollow laugh, then turned to him. "And then... there you were. Just like me. Floundering in your own way."

"In my own, drunken, self-destructive way." He let out a sigh and leaned up on his elbow. "Though, I have to say, I feel marginally less miserable."

"Just a little, huh?"

He smiled just a little and ran a finger up and down her arm. "A fraction less."

"As much as this job was taking over, it kind of helped me, too."

"So it wasn't all due to my famous sexual prowess?"

She slapped him away. "I'm serious. Working with all of you, organizing this team, showed me a bigger world. I think somewhere along the way, I realized that Clark... even with what he can do... he's not everything. And that I'm more than what I can do to help him. I think you get it. This isn't an easy life for a human. Sometimes I think the rest of them don't get that. As far as being normal and living normal lives, they don't have the option. We do, but we just... can't. Not with the things we've seen."

He gave a low chuckle. "This has taken kind of a philisophical turn, so before we start comtemplating our mortality with the rising dawn and all that, just tell me." His eyes grew serious. "Do you still wonder? Still want him?"

"No," she said, surprised that she could say it and mean it. "With how things ended up with Clark... I felt nothing but trapped in the end. But with..." She stopped herself. "Now I feel free."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You mean with me?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you almost did."

"Well, I just feel free in general and you're... part of that."

"You're blushing."

A hand flew to her cheek. "I am not."

"You are. All red and blotchy."

"Shut up. You're... blotchy," she finished lamely.

"Seriously, Chloe, you're getting a little clingy. I know I saved you from abject misery and all..."

"You are so obnoxious." She started to sit up and he flattened himself on her lap.

"So what is it about me that makes you want to burst into a chorus of 'Born Free'? Is it my rock hard body or my keen intellect or..."

"Your horrible conceit?" She pushed him off.

"Nah! You're nuts about me."

"I'm going to sleep."

"So you can dream about me?" She jabbed her elbow backward as hard as she could. "Oof! That actually hurt," he wheezed.

"Oh, no. Not your rock hard body," she said, all high-pitched breathlessness. "Keep it up, Ollie. You can go back to Luthorcorp and your precious couch."

He chuckled and pulled her against his chest. "You don't mean that."

"At least you wouldn't be steamrolling all over me." Still, she settled back against him.

"Hey, I've been getting better."

"Prove it. Go to sleep and we'll see if I'm still on the bed in the morning."

"One of these days I'm going to get some cameras trained right here," he said on a yawn, "and prove that you land on the floor all by yourself."

"Fine. You do that. Now shut up and let me sleep." He just breathed into her neck and she wondered if he'd actually fallen asleep... for a second.

"Hey, Chloe?"

She just grunted.

"When you dream about me, try to leave out the running in fields of wildflowers and sh*t," he whispered. "Messes with my masculinity."

"I will photoshop pictures of you wearing a tutu and leak them to every tabloid," she said calmly.

"Sleeping."

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

She wasn't sure she could move. She felt frozen by now, just staring at the pixel soup on every screen and wondering what she could do to turn it into him, maybe even laughing about the communication glitch. Hell, she'd even take him snipping at her. Maybe she deserved it.

She hadn't been exactly friendly when he was on patrol. She'd been huffy and, at the moment, she didn't even care that it had been all his fault.

He'd been needling her lately, teasing her. It seemed to be his new favorite thing to do. Taking everything she said, every move she made, and using it to accuse her of being crazy about him. And it was really annoying! She didn't know why, but he thought it was just the funniest thing since a monkey with a cigar. So why couldn't she just have laughed it off? For one thing, he might have let up. But, for another, she wouldn't be sitting here wondering if she'd ever see him again and knowing the last thing she said to him was basically "jerkface."

Hadn't she just decided to go with the flow, for real this time? Why did she have to get all prickly just because he teased her? It was just teasing, anyway -- though, sometimes, it didn't feel that way.

"Get home safe," that was all she'd said after he told her he saw some action below.

"Oh, so it's home now?" She heard the grin in his voice and knew she was in for it.

"I just meant..."

"No. This works for me. I'll come back after a hard day at the office, you greet me with a martini and rub my feet..."

"In your dreams."

"You're so into me."

"You get all this from me saying home?"

"If you had a notebook, you'd be doodling my name in it with little red hearts and green arrows."

"This is not as funny as you think it is," she said with what she thought was the patience of a saint.

"True. It's getting less funny the more you put it off."

"Put what off?"

"I'll say it if you will."

She'd felt hot and cold at once and like she was about to jump out of her skin. She forced a laugh. "I'll say you're a jerface. How about that?"

She never got to hear what he'd say about that. "Whoa! Got a real chase, here. Hold on." And then... nothing.

"Did you try the power switch?" she heard behind her.

She hated Clark, at that moment, with every bit of her. She whirled on him. "Didn't you see my texts? I lost Oliver. He was tracking some armed men, followed them under the monorail, and then it was like a massive mute button went on. No radio, no beacon, nothing!"

"I'm sure it's fine. Just because he doesn't check in..."

"You know, unlike some people, Oliver actually follows protocol." Clark seemed to forget that there was a team.

"What protocol?"

"Exactly. He and everyone else dial in with Watchtower while they're on patrol." Maybe she was being too harsh. It's not like Clark's lack of team spirit took Oliver off the grid. But it had been grating on her for far too long. Most things about Clark did these days. "Clark, you spend so much time watching everybody else's back, you forget that we need to watch each other's backs too."

"Well, this isn't about us," he said, giving her just as much attitude back. "Did you check the local security cameras?"

"Every surveillance feed is down. ATMs, traffic lights, convenience stores. It's like someone threw a big blanket over the whole area."

The white noise surrounding them gave a few whines of feedback and the monitors cleared up. She moved around the desk, squinting as the city came back into focus around her. The city, but no Oliver.

"You fixed it."

Sher hadn't. She hadn't touched a thing since he came in. "Or whoever did this finished what they started." She selected the feed on the monorail tracks.

"Where is that?

"That's where I saw Oliver last." She zoomed in on the tracks and the man crouching next to them. "John Jones?"

"Well, your buddy system works."

Chloe decided not to express her annoyance at boiling all the work she did to keep this team safe into the "buddy system." There wasn't time for that. "I didn't call him," she said, turning back slightly. In a split second, Clark was on the screen before her. She glanced behind her, not exactly surprised he was gone, but she'd think he'd at least want to discuss John's mysterious appearance first. Not that she thought John had anythng to do with this. But something was wrong. Oliver wasn't safe. She could feel it.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER TWELVE

Notes: I went nuts trying to find the perfect gift for Ollie to give her. Then I thought about Chloe and coffee and rich guys and gadgets. Between me eyeing those Keurigs avariciously while telling myself my Sunshine Brand drip coffee maker is perfectly adequate and also eyeing the reasonably priced, but seemingly unnecessary mug warmers in various stores, I figured this was the perfect gift.

I'll be finishing Checkmate in the next chapter and hopefully going into Upgrade as well.

Canon tweaks:

- Considering the show went right back into Chloe's insecurities about relationships two eps after Checkmate, that line (from Checkmate, explored more in the next chapter) about Oliver falling for her seemed strange. I don't think she'd just randomly joke about either of them being in love unless she was teasing him back about something he said. So I added a precursor of him teasing and needling her about being nuts about him. I just thought, considering subsequent episodes, that it was more believable as a private joke at that point. I also gave a little base for the teasing at the end.

- I went into Chlark a little more. I know the outwardly romantic aspect was long gone by season nine, but I really wanted to explore where Chloe's head was leading up to the Chlark estrangement. She dated and married Jimmy, but almost every move she made was all about Clark in season eight. Their relationship in season nine seemed almost more like a bitter, post-break-up couple. They didn't hug once all season when previous years they were so demonstrative. I need to explore that because I can't just put Chlark out to pasture with a few disinterested lines.

- I will be going more into Chimmy. I haven't mentioned it much on purpose because it's going to be part of what leads to Chlollie's "I love you," which is my purpose in this fic, making sense of them getting there without enough onscreen scenes to satisfy me.

Action Time (Chapter Ten)

2011-03-16T02:09:00.000-07:00

Chapter Ten

She pulled him into the entryway and closed the door, frowning at the fact that he was not getting handsy on the way to the elevator. Usually, that was the way of it. She pushed the up button and turned to him, giving the most come-hithery look she could muster.

He just rocked on his feet slightly, staring at the closed doors, then at her, leaning against the panel. "What?"

"Nothing." Maybe her come-hither was on the fritz with the lingering effects of the alcohol. She tried again, pushing her shoulders back, her chest out, and rolling her neck with a long sigh.

He chuckled, his eyes not even dropping to her breasts. "Tired?"

"No," she grunted and slumped back against the jamb. "Though I guess you are."

He shrugged. "Not really. No."

"Well then?"

He peered closely at her, tilting his head. "Well then... what?"

She threw up her hands. "I don't know. Usually, your hands are at least half-way up my top by now."

He drew back slightly. "Okay. Do you want my hands up your top?"

"Not unless you want them to be."

He sighed and moved toward her. "Okay."

She batted him away. "Well, don't just humor me."

He groaned as the elevator doors finally opened. "I'm trying to be the nice guy, here. You've been drinking."

She folded her arms and moved in. "Exactly. Here I am, all liquored up and relaxed."

"Well, I don't know. Maybe I thought you were tired," he said peevishly as he moved in after her.

"Maybe I'm not." She leaned against the elevator wall. "Maybe I'm all uninhibited and will let you do all kinds of stuff I usually don't."

He froze. staring at her, then laughed. "Yes. Very tempting. To some guy who wouldn't have to deal with you the next day."

"I won't get mad. Promise." She brushed past him on her way to the panel, then pressed the PH button. The screen descended and she quickly gave her thumbprint and put in her code to bypass the body scan as that wouldn't make this very sexy, then looked up at him. "So?"

He shook his head. "No. No way. I am not believing anything you say right now. You're drunk."

She moved to him. "Not that drunk. Hardly even drunk at all now."

He grunted as she got on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his ear. "There's not much we haven't done, anyway, unless... No."

She pulled back. "Oh, yes." She moved to the panel and activated the stop.

"EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN IN 5...4..."

"No lockdown," she said hastily. "Chloe Sullivan, 0,5,1,4,0,9, requesting non-emergency stop."

"REQUEST GRANTED."

She turned to him, preening a little. "I designed that feature myself. So... who's drunk now?" She slinked toward him, maybe with a stumble or two, but she still thought she came off mostly slinky. "I'm gonna give you a little present. And on my birthday, too. I'm very generous." He looked strangely horrified. "What?"

"Just... why? Chloe, it's not that much better than the regular way, even for me. Trust me."

"Come on, Ollie." She leaned against the wall again, come-hithering her face off. "You've been wanting this for months."

"What? I never said I wanted it. Seriously, it's mostly messy and the logistics of it make it hardly sexy at all."

She looked around. "I think we can swing it." She turned around. "I mean, if I lean like this," she flattened her palms against the wall, "Then you do the rest..."

"Chloe..." He turned her around. "Are you trying to prove something here? You won't enjoy it. I mean, there's a one in a thousand chance a woman might, but..."

"I don't see why not. I mean, where things go down doesn't change the fact that I've loved everything you've done to me. Besides, I've been doing my homework on this. See that code I put in. That clears it."

He looked seriously flabbergasted. "What kind of homework... How does that even... How does a code... Okay." He cleared his throat. "Seriously, this is not something I want."

"But you do," she said, confused now. "You even said we could try it at Luthorcorp and I said no way because nothing turns me off like the evil empire and..."

"I never said that." He looked really lost now.

"Isn't thirty a little young for senility? Yes, you did. And you've almost hounded me for it since."

"Chloe, do you seriously think I'm the kind of guy that would just... hound you into anal sex?"

"Almost every time we're in this elevator, you oh-so-casually mention it's a shame we can't... Wait..." She finally registered his words, then slapped his arm. "I was not talking about anal sex."

"Ow! Well, you kept going on about stuff we haven't done. I figured that was about the only... Then what were you talking about?"

She gestured around them. "Elevator? You? Me? You've only harped on it daily."

He suddenly laughed. "Oh, yeah. That." He stopped laughing. "Oh, yeah. That," he said, his voice lower.

She was up against the wall with a mouth on her neck and his hands up her top in a flash. She moaned as he pushed his hips against her, higher and higher, until her feet left the floor. "Mmm, Oliver. Hurry."

"Don't want to," he breathed. He grinned and drew back. "How many times do we get to do it in the elevator?"

"Whenever now. I told you. I've worked on the codes."

He giggled suddenly.

"Wha..."

"Sorry. I was just remembering me trying to figure out how you'd do your coding homework on anal sex." His face grew serious. "Which I'm not a fan of, by the way."

"Okay..."

He stepped back and she slid down the wall. "Seriously, there's just so much work and clean up before and after and you really need the girl to be relaxed and all this lube and..."

"Yes. Got it. Now can you please..."

"No. Chloe..." He leaned a hand on the wall beside her head. "Also, about earlier. I know I seemed a little off, but I just kept thinking about all that came out tonight and..."

"Oliver," she cut in. "This stop isn't forever. If someone else in the building calls the elevator..."

"Got it. Talk later." He leaned in and slid his lips over her earlobe.

"Much later," she moaned. She knew what he was going to say and what it would lead to. It was about Clark and her and kissing and feelings and she just didn't want to explain everything right now. She'd rather show him she was... His? Hell, maybe. In this moment, definitely. She was all his. As for every other moment... It was hard to think about ideas of her belonging to him or vice versa because... Damn it! It just was! It brought up all manner of inner crazy. Not just that fifteen-year-old that never felt pretty enough, but the idea of a future that seemed so unsure and how much it might hurt to lose him or leave or whatever the hell happened as they tried to survive the Kandorian apocalypse.

Just for now, she wanted to have toe-curling, sweat-inducing, time-limited sex in an elevator. Anyway, it was her birthday. Shouldn't she have what she wanted?

"Hey. Wait." He lifted his head and gripped her neck, sealing her lips to his for five hot seconds.

She breathed out a laugh. "What was that for?"

He shrugged as he pulled off his jacket. "Just wanted another kiss that counts with you. I figure that's your first in an elevator."

She giggled suddenly. "You'd think, but I've actually had..." She shut her mouth quickly. Why did she have to ruin it?

"So Clark..."

"No. Not at all. Just maybe... almost... this one time, but it didn't and... I mean, the elevator would be Jimmy." She tilted her head. "And Pete. Come to think of it."

"Who's Pe... Oh, never mind." Oliver groaned and picked up his jacket. "Going up."

Chloe gripped his arm before he got to the panel. "What? I've also kissed guys in barns and coffee shops and... The Daily Planet. So what? How many places have you kissed girls? And more?" she added to make her point. "Do you want me to grill you on every single one?"

"No. But it would help if you..." He leaned heavily against the wall next to her. "F*ck it. Forget it. Come here." He pulled her to him, but she stopped him.

"Wait a minute. It's one thing to have a problem with me being naked in a bathroom with Clark when we're... whatever we are. I could get that. But what am I supposed to be? Untouched by other men until you?"

"No," he ground out. "This is not about that. But... You know what? It would be nice if I wasn't always the only one that gave a sh*t."

"What?"

"You just never care!"

"You can't be serious."

"I never can be. That's me, right? Never serious. Just like you never get jealous," he growled. "You barely even asked about Lois."

"Well, she's my cousin. Excuse me if I don't want to think about the two of you when we're..."

"Or Tess." He moved closer. "Or that tasty little cop I was with when I found out you were monitoring me. And scores of others, Chloe. You'd be shocked at the sheer number before I even met you."

She stiffened against the wall. "What are you, baiting me now?"

"Can that even be done? Anyway, that's what I do, right? So you can laugh all these women off because... who cares? I flirt or tease or f*ck and then I just run off. That's what I'm supposed to do. That's what this was supposed to be. Just a little fun with fun Oliver. Nothing to be taken seriously."

"I never said..."

"You didn't have to," he breathed. "Every single time this gets real, you start twitching. And I'm sorry if I'm not the fun, free-loving f*ck toy you signed up for, but sh*t gets to me and I can't pretend it doesn't."

"You think it doesn't get to me?" She gripped the front of his shirt. "You don't think I'm constantly wondering, every time I touch you, if someone else has done it better? You want to know why I don't ask? Because I don't want to know! If I sat here comparing myself to the battalion of taller, bustier, God damned shinier-haired women, then... why would I even bother?"

"Chloe..."

"What do you want? You want me to be whiny, insecure, and clingy? Because I can be. I can be that sad girl. Just let me rewind eight years and..."

"How about eight minutes," he cut in. "Let's just go back to... about here," he said, leaning in and brushing his lips over her ear.

"So as soon as I have something to say, you don't want to talk." Still, she lifted her neck just slightly, trying to guide his lips that spot just behind her ear.

"I don't want to fight. So let's not," he said, finding that spot, breathing his next words into it. "I don't want you to be clingy. I just wanted to know you give a sh*t."

"Well, I do," she said, trying to sound angry, but pretty sure she was failing as her hands went from gripping his shirt to sliding around his neck.

"Good." He pulled back, looking just smug enough to make her anger return. "Because I am very much in demand. You should definitely try to hang onto me."

"Ass," she groaned, gripping his shirt again, but this time giving it a nice tug until a few buttons popped off.

He looked down, pursing his lips. "I liked that one."

She shrugged, smiling just a little. "Like you don't have eight more just like it." She tugged her own top over her head before he could return the favor.

"Only five." He leaned in, tracing the top of her bra. "Guess it's only fair, I did destroy one of your hideous, shiny, shapeless blouses." He sucked in a breath as she tore at his belt and buckle. "Got my eye on the rest. Then you'll have no choice but to wear all the tight, low-cut stuff you've been keeping from me."

"Please." She shimmied her jeans down her hips and kicked them off one leg. "I'm not keeping anything from..." She broke off with a mildly embarrassing squeal as his hands slid to grip her waist and lift her high against the wall.

"Yeah. That's right."

She looked down, even swung her feet just a little letting her jeans drag off one leg along the elevator floor. "This is new."

"I'm feeling strong and manly. Please try to make yourself as weightless as possible."

"Fine." She nearly hated the breathless tone of it. It seemed very weak and girly. But, damn it, she liked feeling weak and girly at the moment with his arms holding her up, all straining and bulging and... Damn his arms. "Jerk," she added just so he wouldn't get too cocky as she sagged against him as he sank into her.

He buried his face in her neck as he pushed upwards. "MMphChlffllssss..."

Her eyes rolled back in her head, which lolled against the wall. "Huh?"

He lifted his head, still pumping inside her. "You feel so good... Like better than... Different..."

"Mmmm." It did feel different. "Don't stop," she groaned, gripping his shoulders.

He bent down, holding her tighter as his hips moved faster. "No. Never."

But she felt it, too. His teeth grazed her chin. His hands gripped her hips harder than she was used to. Her belt buckle sort of scraped along the floor. It was all very messy. Maybe that was what felt different. It wasn't like every other sexual encounter they'd ever had had been carefully planned. But something about this was so...

"Oh, God!" Her nails dug into his arms.

He lifted his head again, still pumping inside her. "Already?"

"No. I mean... Stop."

"Stop?"

"Yes," she gasped... reluctantly.

"Yes meaning stop or yes meaning 'God, yes, Oliver! You're a sex god' or..."

"Condom," she burst out. "We didn't..."

"Sh*t!" He froze, still gripping her hips. "Okay. I'll..."

She pushed at his shoulders. "Let me down. I think I have something in my purse or..."

"I have to pull out first," he groaned, keeping his hold on her. "Just stay still and... Don't!"

They both hit the floor. "My knees," she moaned.

"My... everything," he wheezed, the wind obviously knocked out of him.

"Sorry. I panicked."

"My fault," he choked out. "I think I should save the fancy moves for when we're not in an elevator."

She lifted up and smiled down at him. "It was pretty ambitious, though. But I think I have something in my," She looked around "my purse," she finished, dejected, "which is upstairs. I didn't bring it. Stupid..." She tried to get off him, but fell right back down. "You're on my jeans," she grunted -- or on the half that was still on her.

"Just two seconds," he choked. "I'll sit up and..."

She jerked at them. "No. I can get up if you just..."

He shuddered underneath her and she stiffened at an answering tug inside her. He was still inside her. "Seriously, Chloe, don't move for a second."

She tried not to, really, but he felt so much deeper than ever and every bit off her seemed to cling to him and her hips just... rolled. And, really, why shouldn't they?

"Damn it. Don't do that."

"I can't... not..."

His hands gripped her hips. "Okay." He held her still, thick cords standing out on his neck. "So we just go upstairs and..."

"But then we don't get to have sex in an elevator," she whined. And reasonably so. It was her damned birthday. She rolled her hips again.

His hands went from gripping to digging, pulling and pushing before they just stopped. "We can get back in the elevator, then, and just..."

"I've been on birth control for years," she blurted suddenly.

He lifted his head. "So?"

"I just thought you should know that and all... And also that my big sistering included everyone's medical issues and that... we don't exactly have to..."

"Use a condom?" he finished, his eyes widening.

She nodded, bracing her hands on his chest and lifting just a little off him before dropping back down, making them both moan.

"Oh, Chloe," he said shakily, "you better not be saying this because you're drunk."

"Not drunk anymore." She leaned down, her lips brushing from his chin to his ear. "I've thought about it before now. I mean, if we're clean and there's no huge risk, then..."

He shook underneath her. "I've... I don't think I've ever... I mean, not without one. Even at my drunkest."

She lifted her head and nodded. "I shouldn't have..."

"No. I mean that... I could. With you. Knowing you're only m... that you're only with me." He gripped her hips harder and pushing his own upwards.

"You know I am," she breathed.

He smiled. "And there's no one else for me."

She smiled, too. "Yes. I mean... for now."

His smile dropped. "Could you not..."

"I mean for you," she cut in quickly. "I mean that... If you wanted to..."

"I know what you mean and... Just give me a minute." He closed his eyes, his hands falling away.

Damn it! She wasn't trying to destroy the mood. She just wanted him to know he had options. "Oliver..."

He braced his hands on the floor and sat up. "Okay. I'm good." He wound one hand around her waist and pushed upwards.

"Oh... Good. Because we need to hurry," she breathed. "Anyone can call this elevator."

"Yeah. In theory." He chuckled. "I mean, it's after two. If anyone was coming or going, they've come and gone by now."

"You don't just say that," she scoffed, stilling.

"It's true."

She pushed at him slightly. "Are you just bent on ruining the fun tonight?"

"And here I thought this was all for me." He pulled her close again.

"Well... yeah. But it's my birthday."

"Now you're acknowledging it?" HIs hands spanned her waist and he laid back. "Anyway, having sex in an elevator isn't just about time limits."

"It's not?" she breathed as one hand slid to her breast. She'd been pretty damned sure that was the draw.

"It's about discovery," he rasped. "It's about the fact that you could be seen." He twisted his hips and hit something inside her that made her throw her head back, silently screaming. "I mean, we've been discovered by everyone that counts, but that's not enough, is it?"

She hissed as her head lolled forward, her hips moving again.

"You need someone to see," he gasped as she moved faster. "Or just the possibility of them seeing. Because then..." He moved then, undulating under her. "Then you aren't that sad girl, are you? You're wanted, so f*cking wanted, Chloe..." She felt him shudder as she leaned over him, planting a hand on either side of his head as her hips snapped forward and back.

She nearly howled, not just from their movements, so easily bringing back the urgency of just moments before, but his words. Yes. She wanted the world to know. For so many years, she felt like that sad girl. Not pretty enough. Not sexy enough. Just not enough. But she knew that wasn't true now. So maybe he was right. Maybe she wanted more people than her to know it. Maybe that little slip at the party wasn't completely accidental. Maybe she wanted the world to know that she was wanted, desired, that she was enough for someone.

More than enough, from the way he bowed upward to her, his breath harsh in her ear, "You want me." It wasn't a question anymore, but still, she couldn't get enough of hearing it.

"So much," he gasped.

"More than..." She swallowed a scream as his hips sort of twisted under her. "More than the others?" she finished on a moan as her arms nearly gave out.

"You kidding me?" He grunted and sat up, jerking her against him as she tried to keep moving, never stop... "You know how my day is?" he growled. "It's either having you or waiting for you. Think that's normal?"

She sort of sobbed his name against his shoulder because, damn him... She remembered, watching him sleep at the inn, thinking that everything else in her day was just something to get through before seeing him again. It had been scary, thinking she was ridiculous to feel that way. So hearing those words thrilled and terrified her in equal measures, yet pushed her closer to breaking and shuddering against him all the same. She cried out, digging her fingers into his neck as she rocked over him, keeping him close, yet using the other hand to brace herself against his chest, hold steady, not fall into him and whatever madness he meant in feeling... all she did. It was all too much. The things he said, the fact that there was nothing between them now, not even a condom. It all felt raw and naked and so damned overwhelming, but it didn't stop her from taking this. Having this. She could worry about where to put these feelings later, after. She just wanted to feel every horrible, glorious bit of it for now. "Too much," she gasped. "I can't..."

Both arms weakened and she felt herself crumpling against him as sharp tingles raced across every inch of her skin.

“I got you,” he growled, both arms crushing her waist now as he reared upward, holding her against him. His hips jerked up under her once, twice before he stilled.

Her head lay slack against his shoulder, panting into his neck.

"So who's Pete, anyway?"

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER ELEVEN

Action Time (Chapter Nine)

2011-03-15T22:41:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER NINE

She giggled and leaned into him and whispered. "Just for that, you don't get any sex tonight."

His face seemed to lose all color. "Chloe..."

"Okay. Fine. But only a little bit."

His face seemed to color up, then, bright red. He gave a short bark of a laugh and then turned away from her. "Uh... Heh..."

She turned her face, too, then saw all the other faces. "Why are they looking at me?"

"That wasn't the quietest whisper," she heard him say.

She pushed away from him quickly, wondering what color her face was.

Victor moved in front of the rest. "Okay. I don't eat much these days, so I don't know what's good. But I got some big sandwich, a little pasta, some chips and..." He looked at Chloe and Oliver. "What?" He looked at the rest of them. "What?"

AC spoke first, his eyes still on Chloe. "So you and Oliver..."

"Oh, good." Victor rolled his eyes and turned back to them. "So you guys are finally admitting it. About time."

"Admitting what?"

"That they're together."

"We're not together, together," Oliver tried awkwardly. "We're just... kind of... together."

"Well, yeah. but you're admitting it, so good." Victor said with a shrug.

Bart turned his glaring eyes from them to Victor. "You knew?"

"Come on. I'm sure we all kind of..."

"I certainly had no idea," John said loudly.

"Sh*t," Victor hissed. "Did I just spill the..."

"Nope," Chloe said abruptly. "Rewind. This just isn't... Hey, you guys?" She gestured at the twins. "Why don't you get some music on, like, two minutes ago?"

Zan pointed at Jayna. "Well, she wouldn't let me pick..."

Chloe jerked forward and swallowed hard. "Oh, God..."

"I know that look." Dinah rushed forward and squeezed her in. "Sorry, guys. Girl talk." Chloe found herself rushed toward the swinging door at the far end of the room. She briefly heard the chatter and clanging of the restaurant beyond before the bathroom door swung open.

"I knew it," Chloe moaned. "My birthday is evil and everything always goes wrong."

"Of course not," Dinah said calmly. "Nothing's gone wrong... unless... are you going to throw up?"

"I don't know."

"Best be safe." Dinah led her to a stall.

"Can I come in?"

Chloe leaned heavily against the stall door as Dinah rushed to the bathroom door. "Jayna, we really need some girl time."

"But I'm a..."

"Woman time, then."

"So totally unfair," Chloe heard, fading away as she moved to the sink and leaned against it.

Dinah moved back to her. "Don't you need to..."

"No," Chloe cut in. "That would be a terribly humilating topper to this birthday and I refuse to do it. So... not happening." She leaned against the wall, then gave in and sank to the floor. "Stupid birthdays."

"Come on. It wasn't so bad. I mean, that last part was kind of a shocker, but food, drinks, Bart didn't get to roast you. I'd say that's a good birthday."

"Except for how everyone of you knows everything about me now."

"It's only gossip." Dinah pulled out a paper towell and turned on the faucet, dipping it under the spray. "You gotta expect a little gossip when you're the boss."

"I'm not the boss," Chloe groaned as Dinah leaned down and dabbed at her forehead. "Oliver's the one who pays for everything. I'm just..."

"Trust me. You're the boss. Hell, none of us make a move without checking in with you, Oliver included. We might whine together a bit about you riding us and gossip might just come with that, but it doesn't mean we don't respect you. We'd never do anything to..." Dinah drew back slightly, her face paling. "You know, speaking of Oliver, how long have you two been... I mean..."

Chloe caught her slightly guilty expression and knew why. "Little over two weeks," she said.

Dinah let out a breath. "Oh, good." She stiffened as she tossed the paper towel away. "I mean... You know, it's just good you two are..."

"If you're worried about the emails, don't be. I'm not mad or even..."

"You know about those?"

"It's kind of my job to know... I mean, up to a point."

Dinah tilted her head. "And us knowing your business is such a problem?"

"I didn't read them. I just know they exist. How can I not with Oliver's loud protests that they were strictly platonic?"

"But they were. I mean, there was nothing. Just flirting. Not even really flirting. Just text banter here and there and... Well, you know Oliver. It's just for fun. He tends to flirt with anything that moves..." Her face paled again. "But not lately. I mean, now that he's with you..."

"He's not with me." Chloe cut in. "And Oliver's flirting sickness is not something I don't know. Believe me." But it was good to be reminded. "We're not in a relationship."

"But you two are..."

"Having fun and not bothering with definitions," she said, pulling herself up by the sink. She still felt a bit woozy, but her mind was clearer, maybe even relaxed. "Or rules anymore. Or silly worries about where this goes. Because, you see, then it's not fun. And, for once, I want to have fun."

"Well, bravo. I mean, we all agree you need more fun."

"Oh, Jeez," she leaned her head against the mirror. "Now you're all deciding what I need? Bad enough when it was just Clark." She pushed away and shook her head. "But let's not open that up. Anyway, Oliver and me... we're good. No expectations, no rules, no privacy, apparently."

Dinah touched her arm and met her eyes in the mirror. "I think we all agree, me specifically, that we only want you to have the kind of fun where you don't get hurt. And Oliver... Just be careful. I know guys can be very convincing about the whole NSA thing, but we women often have strings attached, whether we want them or not."

She wondered what Dinah would say if she told her that the lack of strings and definitions were mostly her doing. "Maybe it's the other way around." Not that she could say it outright. She didn't want them any further in her business tonight. Also, it wasn't true. Even drunk, or especially drunk, she knew that. When people had been through what they had together, it was never just sex. Maybe that was why not defining it was such a necessity for her. Because, if she had to define it, it might be more... "Maybe i'm just using him for sex," she finished, trying for a smile.

Dinah bumped her arm, laughing lowly. "I kind of like you." She then pulled at it. "Come on. Let's get some food to join that booze. From what I hear, your main food groups are coffee and creamer."

"Everyone knows my business," she sighed, letting Dinah pull her out.

Zan rushed up as they moved into the back room. "Did you puke?"

"No, but there's still time," she said, holding onto Dinah.

"Give the girl some space," Dinah shouted. "We all know she's had a rough year."

"Know too well," Chloe muttered, staring at the floor.

AC approached cautiously. "We've all talked it over..."

"Never mind that I was still in the room." She glanced at Oliver, who looked kind of peeved.

"And we've decided this is fine," AC finished.

"Provided nobody gets special treatment," Victor put in.

Chloe looked around. "I wouldn't..."

"Yeah, no giving Oliver the easiest assignments," AC added.

"Or the coolest ones," Zan cut in.

John stepped forward. "No pet names over the headsets when we're on a group mission."

Chloe groaned. "Now that's just..."

Victor put a hand up. "Definitely no making out in front of us."

"Do not make us choose sides in an argument," Emil called from the back of the room.

"Definitely," Dinah agreed, winking at him. "I mean, there's going to be a million when you're planning the wedding..."

Chloe's eyes shot to Oliver, who had the good sense to go pale. "We aren't even..."

AC shushed her. "And whatever happens, I am not babysitting. You can call me Uncle Arthur all you want, but that doesn't mean..."

"I call bridesmaid!" Jayna shouted.

"Darn it," Dinah said with a smirk, turning to Chloe. "I meant to do that. Can you at least shoot me the bouquet at the reception?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, finally catching on. "Yes. You're all hilarious."

"Side-splitting," Oliver agreed. He nodded at Chloe. "Thanks for leaving me out here with them, by the way."

She had to laugh, thinking Bart must have given him the worst time ev... She glanced around. "Where's Bart?" She'd thought he'd have been front and center for this.

AC nodded behind him. "He's nursing the rest of the big sandwich."

Chloe moved through them as they all broke away, laughing and talking. Bart was sitting in the corner, with way more sandwich left than there should be. She stopped near Oliver. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know. He just slumped off and... he hasn't said a word since you left, actually."

"He always acted like he had a crush on me, but I thought that was just... this little gag. I didn't think he really..." It was a sobering kind of thought.

"No. Me neither. I mean, he never said anything when you were getting married, joke here and there, but... He didn't actually show up. I mean, he was in Alaska, but that shouldn't stop him."

Chloe shook her head. "I never thought he'd actually be... hurt by this."

"I'll talk to him."

She put a hand on his arm. "No, let me. I've been laughing this crush off for years and I owe it to him to tell him he's not just some joke to me," she glanced at Ollie, "even if I don't feel the same way." He nodded and she took a deep breath, trying to get her thoughts in order. The alcohol didn't make it easier. She perched on a chair next to him. "Hey," she said, then tried to think of something to follow it with. "Good Sandwich?"

He shrugged. "Could be better. I requested a potato chip layer and they gave me chips on the side." He shook his head. "I just never get what I want."

She felt strangely like crying at his forlorn tone. "Bart, I know that you, that all of you, might feel a little shocked at the change. And I'm sorry if we hid this from... all of you. But we're just... we're still figuring out what this means. But we really care what y... what all of you think."

He glanced sideways at her. "I'm sure Victor will be relieved to know that."

"I'm not saying this right," she moaned.

"Well, you are pretty sloshed." He sighed. "Chloe, don't worry about me."

"But I do," she insisted. "I worry about you and I care about you and I don't want you to think I hide things from you."

"You're kind of repeating yourself, there, Chloe."

"Bart." She leaned in, "Bart, I just want you to know that I respect you and you're not some funny guy that I never take seriously and, you know, things end up the way they do and people... um... do things and it's not like anyone thought it would make anyone else feel hurt or..."

"You really are drunk, but I get it. Chloe, I'm fine." He sighed again. "And hey. I'm glad you're looseninig up a bit tonight. I bet you need it. I had a lot of jokes about that in my roast, but... Well..." He sighed again, a real long one. "I guess no one's in the mood for my jokes."

Chole grasped his knee. "Yes, we are. Sure, we are."

He looked down. "No. Victor said no and so did Oliver, so...."

"Well, it's not their birthday, is it? I've been looking forward to your roast all night," she said, not adding with a mild sense of dread. But if it made him happy...

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah?"

"You should get up and... just do it."

"Well, I can't if you don't take your hand of my knee. Hey, Queen!"

Oliver turned away from Emil.

"Your girlfriend won't stop groping me, here. Better keep an eye on her." He winked at Chloe. "I'm particularly attractive to drunk chicks." He stood up with a grin and her hand fell away. "I'm kidding. You're the best." He dropped a kiss on her head and appeared behind the table. "Attention, everyone! Now that our beloved birthday vixen has given me the go-ahead, I'd like to treat you all to the plethora of knowledge I have gathered about our own Chloe Sullivan."

Oliver sidled up next to her. "Well, he sure cheered up quick. What did you say?"

"I hardly remember. Bur once I said he could do his..." Chloe shook her head. "Okay. Did I just get played?"

"If you're implying that Bart Allen would make you feel guilty just to get his way..."

Bart cleared his throat and held up his cards. "Now I'm not saying Chloe doesn't get out much. But most of the lock-ups at Belle Reve call her just to make sure she's okay. Right? Am I right?" He grinned and looked up at the silent group. "This thing on?" he said, tapping an imaginary microphone.

"Yes. Yes, he would," Oliver finished with a nod.

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

"It just sucks you guys didn't tell me before the party. I could have killed off you two." Bart hung onto either end of the towel around his neck, panting. "But, you know, I need some time with new material and all. You know how it is. So... how was it?"

"Good." Chloe nodded, still a little dazed. She'd thought the alcohol would wear off through all two hours and thirteen minutes of Bart's roast. She supposed she was lucky it hadn't. "The slide show was very... invasive, but..."

"Yeah? I was going for whimsical. But I had to cut half my love-life jokes, with you two..." He gestured to Oliver. "Don't worry, Boss. I'll save it for your birthday."

"No, you absolutely won't," Oliver said, holding the same smile that had been frozen on his face as he lightly shoved Bart away. "Now get on clean-up."

"What? I was on food."

"Which I paid for and you ate most of."

"You all need to stop being jealous of my metabolism," Bart groaned as he moved away.

Chloe leaned against Oliver, just because she was tired... and he smelled so nice. "You punishing him for torturing me?"

"I think we were all tortured tonight," he said, sliding a hand around her back. "Besides, he'll get it done quicker."

"I can see that," Chloe said, feeling a little queezy at Bart whizzing around the room.

He rubbed her back. "Looking kind of green."

"You would know."

"You wanna get out of here?"

"I can't just go."

"You can do what you want. It's your birthday." He pulled her to the door. "Why don't you wait outside. I'll make your goodbyes."

"Bless you," she moaned as the cold air hit her face. For the last few hours, she'd thought she'd never see outside again. She moved, slightly unsteadily to the opposite wall, reminding herself to drink anything Emil mixed again. It packed a long-lasting punch. She shoved an empty bucket off a milk crate and maneuvered her way onto it, humming to herself as a breeze moved down the alley. It brought the slight stench of garbage, but mostly cool air.

The door creaked open and Oliver appeared, holding her jacket. She batted him away as she stood. "I don't want it."

"But you need it," he said firmly, turning her around. "You doing okay?"

"Yep." She turned to him as he pulled her front and zipped her up.

"So... still a little drunk, then?"

"Indeed I am, Sir."

He chuckled and pulled her to his side, moving them out to the street. "I've never seen you drunk, Sullivan."

"Me neither."

"I've seen you drink, but never actually drunk. It's kind of cute, though."

"I'm not allowed," she said, sort of sighed, leaning into his shoulder. "I mean, what would people do if I was drunk?"

"Take you to a Denny's for a 'Moons Over my Hammie' and some coffee?"

"That sounds sooo good," she groaned. "Is that the one with the bread that's grilled in butter? No... NO." She shoved a hand into his chest, then moved in front of him. "Oliver, you need to promise that I can't be drunk anymore."

"Wow. That made sense."

"What I mean is that you need to promise you won't let me..."

"I get it. But I can't promise it. Why shouldn't you let go like everyone else?"

"Because I just can't. I mean, you guys all can have that little party after the bad stuff's gone down. And that's fine. You and Bart and Dinah and Victor... Well, not Victor unless Emil invents robot alcohol. The kids are too young and I guess not Clark, either, though I guess he wouldn't be showing up at any parties. Maybe if I'm not there. I don't know." She shook her head. "The point is that people can let loose. But only if I'm there. I have to be the one that's thinking of all that... just in case stuff." She sagged against him. "That's why the camera's and the tracking and the... God, sometime's it all just makes me so tired." She stood straighter and grasped his arms. "I mean, right now, there could be this world ending catastrophe and all I can think of is that you smell so good and your arms feel so..." She leaned up to him and met his lips.

He brushed his own over hers. "Chloe..." He took her by the shoulders. "Maybe you can let someone else be the worrier once in a while. Maybe even me."

"You?" She scoffed. "You never worry."

"I don't?"

"You just zoom in on a zipline and say some cool catchphrase and... off you go."

"That's me, then?"

"That's all you guys. You save the day and me... I'm just a voice in your ears you can hang up on. But I don't get to hang up. I just have to think of what's next. Alone." Her words caught in her throat just a little. "I didn't used to have to do it alone. I mean, at the end of the day, we could talk about what happened and what to do next, but not now," she said, her eyes stinging.

"Chloe, I'm here and... and feeling kind of stupid right now because this isn't about me. Is it?"

She drew back, shrugged his arms off. "It's not about anything. I should go check in at Watchtower."

"So he didn't show."

"I don't want to talk about him," she said, moving as steadily down the street as she could.

"Did you ever think that maybe he thought you'd have a better time without him there?"

"A real friend wouldn't think that. Not that I care. We're not friends anymore. So what? People get older and they change and I don't care." She angrily swiped at her eyes, trying to keep ahead of him. So she was a weepy drunk. Who knew?

"I'm pretty sure the both of you care a whole damned lot or I wouldn't have to sit through all the tension and the stony silences and... you know what?" He passed her and blocked her path. "I'm kind of sick of it. If you two want to fight, can't you just be honest about it and yell at each other like healthy people."

"Ollie, I'm fine." She stepped around him. "We're... we're coworkers, I guess. It'll be this new phase. And it's fine."

"Passive agressively fine," he muttered, moving with her.

"Then I'm on my way to fine," she snapped, walking faster. "Anyway, nobody wants us to be close like that again. It's confusing. I mean with the I need you and the stupid chats with the gazing and the kissing and..."

"The what?" He stopped.

So did she. "I've been drinking. I'm not saying things right."

"So when you say kissing you mean firm handshaking?"

"Well, I mean kissing. But it was only a couple times."

He stared at her closely. "What's a couple?"

Watchtower was just ahead. She moved to it rapidly, the cold air and hot embarrassment colliding with each other and sobering her up a little. "Only like five times... and a half."

"And you never told me this?" he said from behind her, but getting closer.

"Well, it didn't count. But it was mostly me kissing him, anyway. I mean, he started it one time," she babbled, rushing on, "but I was hardly there for that. He only told me about it later, kind of a red K recap, which means he wasn't even himself, so that didn't count. And I was under controlling influences twice, so those didn't count. Plus another time I only kissed him to hide us doing medical subterfuge, so that didn't count. So there. It never counted."

"That still leaves one that did count."

She groaned and turned at the base of the steps. "Why do you need to know, anyway? Have I asked you to catalogue everything you and Lois ever..."

"But that's different. I know how I feel about Lois and you still have no idea how you feel about Clark."

She moved up a step. It was easier to think when she took a little off his height advantage. "I know how I don't feel and it's not like that. Not anymore. So why are we even fighting about this?"

"I don't know," he said petulantly. "I have this idea of you and Clark where you just had this crush and now I find out there was kissing."

"Kissing that hardly counted," she pointed out, thinking pouting worked for him, the times she'd seen it this week. It made her want to bite his lower lip. So she did. It didn't take much effort with him nearly at eye level.

He was slightly stiff at first, but it only took a few nibbles before his mouth opened, lips clinging to her top lip before his arms slid around her waist and pulled her in. He brushed his lips overs hers once... twice... before he pulled away. "So does that count?"

She swatted at his chest and groaned. "Oliver..."

"Well, you've been drinking."

"Well, that's not mind control and I specifically told you that two of those other, not counted kisses, were under a form of mind control and a few drinks is nothing like..."

He grasped her neck and pulled her in again, his tongue delving lightly between her lips until she moaned and looped her arms around his neck. He drew away, resting his forehead against his. "So it counts?"

"It counts for double... triple even," she finished, slightly shaky. Something about being kissed by Oliver always shook her up. She hoped it never stopped. "Come on." She slid a hand down his arm and grasped his hand, moving up a step and tugging him after.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Chapter Ten

Action Time (Chapter Eight)

2011-03-14T21:13:00.000-07:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Chloe, it's just dinner."

"No, it isn't," she said, keeping in step with him. "It's dinner on this specific day. Why didn't you want to go to dinner yesterday or tomorrow?"

He shrugged, grinning a little. "I'm hungry today."

She glanced sideways at him as they walked down Third Street. He had a sneaky look about him. "Okay. But we're going dutch."

"No, we're not. Not on your bir..."

She grabbed his jacket and pulled him to a stop. "Don't say it. And I knew it. I just knew you weren't listening when I very specifically said I didn't want to recognize my..." She stopped herself. "...this particular day," she finished carefully.

He turned to her, rolling his eyes. "Because all women say they don't need anything and don't want a fuss and they totally mean it."

"This one does." Why was he torturing her? Hell, even Lois had the good manners to be on assignment in Kenosha. Chloe had told her they could go to dinner when she got back on whatever day as long as it wasn't this day. This day could pass her by unmarked and peaceful for once. It was what she wanted and Lois, having been a witness to quite a few of her birthdays, seemed to understand. As for Clark... Well, he usually had to be reminded, anyway. So she just didn't do it -- not that she saw him much. But Oliver... he wasn't getting it. "I was completely serious, Oliver. I refuse to recognize this day."

He shook his head. "Aren't you about six years too young to be holding at twenty-nine?"

"This isn't about that. I'm perfectly fine with my age."

"So much so that you refuse to celebrate it." He took her arm and pulled her along. "Come on! You made it. Another year. In our line of work, that's actually something to celebrate."

"It's not my birthday," she said firmly, letting him lead her into Little Italy. "It's just the anniversary of the day I happen to have been born on based on the Gregorian calendar."

He chuckled. "Oh, that's different."

"I'm serious, Oliver."

He stopped again. "I'm starting to get that." He sighed and took her by the shoulders. "Chloe, is this about us? I mean, does this hit your panic button? Is me taking you out for fancy pasta and cake equivalent to me putting a ring on your finger..."

She shrugged him off. "Stop it. You know I'm done with rules. I'm perfectly fine with just... letting things be and going with the flow. You know, just... Maybe if we just pay for our own meals and not treat this like some special occasion..."

"Oh, yeah. You're going with the flow like crazy, here." He smiled and leaned in. "What if I treat it like a special occasion and you roll your eyes and pretend to be put upon? We both win."

"Treat it like Arbor Day, for all I care, but just don't call it my... you know."

He smiled wider. "I don't think I can help it."

"Don't even..."

"Happy B..."

"No!" She put her hand over his mouth. "Oliver, please!"

He pulled her hand away. "You really are freaked out. Chloe... What's this about?"

She took a deep breath, knowing it would sound stupid, but he had to know. "If you call it a birthday, something terrible will happen. Okay?"

"Like what? Bad cake?"

"Like being possessed by a witch or turned into my cousin or dating a heat seeking ice mutant or Clark going on a silver kryptonite fueled paranoid rampage," she said in a rush, "all of which happened either on or around my birthday."

He let out a huff of laughter. "Wow. Stuff like that definitely doesn't happen all year round when you live in Smallville."

"Well, it... I mean that..." She shook herself. "Okay, fine, but..."

"Some crazy stuff happens around Christmas and New Years, too. Maybe we should give them the slip."

"Don't think I haven't considered it," she muttered, then chuckled. "I don't know. I guess you have a point." She looked ahead at Bessolo's lit sign. "But can't we go somewhere less special-occasion-ey. I could really go for a Big Mac or some chicken wings..."

"And miss the overpriced pasta? Never." He grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her along, then turning... into an alleyway.

"Oliver, the entrance is up there."

"I got my own entrance," he said, pulling her behind him. "I know a guy."

"Great. And now you're leading me down a dark alley on my unluckiest day?" She dug in her heels and jerked him to a stop. "No. No way. We are not tempting fate."

"Chloe," he sighed. "Okay. I'm starting to figure out that you and surprises don't mix. So I might as well tell you that the back room of this restaurant has been rented out for a private party."

Her eyes widened as it sunk in. "A surprise party?"

"Which I've just ruined. Fact is, I really didn't think you were serious about this birthday ban and there's a certain rag tag group of vigilantes who really want to show some appreciation for the woman who keeps them all in line."

Her shoulders slumped. "They didn't have to..."

"Also, if anything were to happen, practically everyone in that room at this moment has superpowers. So..."

She stared at his pleading face, then took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll act surprised."

He smiled and pulled her forward. "Atta girl."

"But if we all turn into gnomes or get attacked by gelatinous cubes..."

"Gelatinous cubes?"

"If this all goes south, you'll be the one getting twenty-three punches and one for good luck."

"Can we make it spankings?" He winked and pulled open the door, pushing her into the dark room. For just a second, she was afraid everything had gone south before it started. Then came the lights and the roar. She actually did startle and stumbled back into Oliver when Bart zoomed up and blew a paper horn right in her face.

"Isn't it awesome?" He appeared on the other side of her. "Were you surprised?"

"I still am," she said, trying to shake the buzzing from her ears as Oliver prodded her forward. It was kind of nice, though, knowing they cared. Cake, balloons, banner, oversized sandwich included.

Dinah handed her a tube. "Birthday shot for the birthday girl?"

She stared into it, leery. "What's in it?"

"More booze than you'd think." She clinked her own to it. "Emil invented it. Drink up."

Why the hell not? She swallowed it down, thinking it tasted like a gummy bear until it hit her stomach with a small series of explosions. "Wow."

"Right?" AC grabbed her in next. "Hell of a turn out."

"That, too," she said, still feeling unsettled.

"Everyone responded to the evite. Even those weird kids." He gestured to Zan and Jayna, hovering near Emil and his tray of tube shots.

"The twins?" Dinah laughed. "I think they're adorable little... Oh, no." She moved toward them. "Emil, do not listen to them. They get soda."

She looked around. It was a surprising turn-out. "Is Zatanna showing up, too?"

Victor put an arm around her. "Well, she's not a full-on team member, but we invited her. Didn't respond either way. Must be busy. But we can track her down if you..."

"No," Chloe cut in quickly. "You know, we don't want to disturb her or anything," she said, trying to sound extremely casual.

Oliver chuckled from behind her and she felt him lean in. "That and, between her turning you into Lois and putting you on a date with a preteen, you've probably had all the surprises you can handle from her."

She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you make an announcement? I really want everyone to know."

"Don't worry. Everyone already knows that." She turned to face John, who shrugged. "Stuff like that gets around." He pulled her in. "Happy Birthday."

"What gets around?" Bart was suddenly right there. "Is this about the freaky Friday or the girlfight with that Mercer chick?"

She turned to glare at Oliver.

He put up his hands. "I never said a word about anything."

Bart giggled. "I've run into Zatanna in my many travels. Plus, I do my homework. And if you were that eager for a younger guy..."

"Bro," AC hissed. "Too soon."

"But it's been weeks," he wailed. "I have about a million bits saved up for my roast." He pulled a stack of index cards from his jacket. "You, my blushing birthday girl are in for a..."

"I told you no roast." Victor cut in. "Curry's right. It's way too soon."

"What? But it won't be half as funny if I don't do it on her birthday."

"Oh, God," Chloe groaned.

Oliver slipped through. "Hey, is that a big sandwich? We'll never finish that."

"That little thing?" Bart scoffed. "You should have seen the one I really wanted to order." He sped to the table with what must be six feet of sandwich.

"I'll talk to him," Oliver muttered, moving after Bart.

Chloe grabbed John's sleeve. "Does everyone know my business?"

"Hey, I'm practically all-knowing. Can't help it. But yeah. You're kind of like the glue around here, so you're a common topic of conversation and, seems like, if one knows, the rest soon follow." He leaned in. "Hey, no one knows the other thing."

She stiffened. "What other thing?"

"Exactly." He nodded toward Oliver, looking suspiciously at Emil's tubes before taking one. "So stop worrying."

"I wasn't worried." But she had been, a little. Still, why would they know? Lois didn't know any of them and Clark wasn't exactly a gossip.

Clark also wasn't here. But why should she be surprised?

Chloe crawled out of her metaphorical hole and nudged AC. "I thought I had you in Florida tonight."

"Dude, it's fine. Clark volunteered to check in there, few other places, too, so we could all come."

"Oh." Chloe stared into her empty shot. "You know, I'm gonna get another."

She supposed she had no right to be upset, considering she didn't want a birthday in the first place. And maybe she should even think it nice of Clark, pulling more patrol time so she could have a party. But there was a time when he would have been the first one blowing a paper horn at her party and she couldn't help wondering if he'd volunteered his services just to avoid her.

She moved to Emil. "Doctor?"

He smiled. "Miss Sullivan?"

"What do you got for terminal embarrassment?"

He held up a rack of tubes. "Take one of these and repeat as necessary."

"Don't mind if I do," she sighed, downing one. She gasped and shook herself. "It's amazing. I don't taste any alcohol, but I feel..."

He grinned. "My own invention. I managed it with a combination of chemicals that..." She grabbed another. "Hey, slow down."

"You said as necessary." She drank it down.

"These are more powerful than you know. They..."

"Let me tell you about the year I've had..."

Emil shrugged and backed away. "As long as you aren't driving."

"Don't think I will." Now that Lois knew about her and Oliver, she had an airtight excuse to stay at Watchtower, so why not take advantage of it? Really, keeping up that cramped little place with the long drive seemed silly now. It had seemed necessary once, having that tie to her hometown and her best... She took a deep breath, feeling a little better already and grinned at Emil. "I like the orange ones." She grabbed one and turned, surveying her party. It wasn't so bad. So she was, apparently, the main gossip topic and everyone knew all her little screw-ups. They still loved her enough to throw her a party and, mostly, actually show up. She put a certain former best friend out of her mind with his stupid long coat which looked totally stupid and who'd want be best friends with a stupid guy like that? "Stupid," she muttered, then giggled, knocking back her shot and dropping into a chair next to Victor.

"Who's stupid?" Victor asked.

"Not you." She leaned on his shoulder. "Guess why?"

"Why?"

"Because I used to love Inspector Gadget when I was little, but he was kind of dumb and Penny and Brain always did all the work, but you're like a smart version of him, so you're now like the smartest coolest guy I know who's half a robot. And you don't even need a Penny and Brain."

Victor chuckled and stood. "I think I'm gonna get you some food."

"Can you get me another one of these?" she said, holding her empty tube up.

"We'll see about that."

"You do that," she said, mimicking his deeper voice, then giggling again. Why didn't she ever notice Victor was funny, too?

Zan and Jayna dropped into the chairs on either side of her. "Hey, Miss Watchtower," Zan started.

"It's just Watchtower," Jayna hissed. "She's not a teacher."

"Aw, hey, Cuties." She put an arm around each. "Thanks for coming."

"Okay," Jayna drawled. "You know, speaking of cute... about those little baby assignments you keep giving us..."

"Not that we aren't totally knocking them out," Zan cut in.

"Totally. I think we've put most kids in the general area off jaywalking and shoplifting."

"Wedgies, too. Like forever, but I think we've more than proven ourselves to be..."

"Guys, no shop talk." She knew by the voice, it was Oliver. But it took her a while to get her eyes up for absolute confirmation.

"But..."

"She's got the night off."

"You're so tall," Chloe said with some satisfaction as Zan and Jayna started to slump off.

Oliver stopped them. "Hey, guys. Wait. I got a real big assignment for you." They glanced at each other, then leaned in. "You got ipods?"

Jayna scoffed. "Duh."

Zan sighed. "She means yes."

"I want you to rescue this party... with music," he finished on a hiss.

Zan stood straighter. "I got this."

"He meant me," Jayna said, fumbling in her pocket.

"Aw!" Chloe sighed as they moved off, pushing at each other. "We should have more kids."

"Wow." Oliver leaned down. "You're a little drunk, aren't you?"

"No. But you're a little..." She giggled. "You're not a little anything."

"Okay," He chuckled and grasped her hands, pulling her up. "Let's go find the food."

"No. I'm good. Victor's getting me food. And more tubes." She tapped her empty one against his nose.

"I don't think you need any more tubes. You've had a few too many."

"How dare you!" She giggled and leaned into him and whispered. "Just for that, you don't get any sex tonight."

His face seemed to lose all color. "Chloe..."

"Okay. Fine. But only a little bit."

His face seemed to color up, then--bright red. He gave a short bark of a laugh and then turned away from her. "Uh... Heh..."

She turned her face, too, then saw all the other faces. "Why are they looking at me?"

"That wasn't the quietest whisper," she heard him say tightly.

She pushed away from him quickly, wondering what color her face was.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER NINE

Action Time (Chapter Seven)

2011-03-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

I got it in before three weeks had passed. Go me! The delays are getting shorter. So that's good, right?

Still spoiling Escape

Chapter Seven

It was kind of everything she'd expected. Oliver made jokes to try to break the tension, Clark mostly pretended nothing was going on, and Lois wouldn't stop poking at the gigantic elephant in the room. She started to see why. Hell, Lois had more than once warned her away from Clark in the old days, way before the two of them were even an inkling. It was possible that she was trying to do that here, the way she was needling the situation. She was almost relieved when Lois yanked her away. Lois could get it out of her system and Chloe could set her straight. This is casual. I know what I'm doing. No one needs to protect me. And, for the love of God, don't tell anyone. That was actually priority number one, so she started before the patio door even closed behind her.

"Okay. Look, Lois. I know what you're gonna say. With Ollie's less than perfect track record, I should really just cut my losses and..."

"Or," Lois cut in, dashing in front of her, "I could say that this is one for the win column. I think it's great that you and Oliver are together."

"You do?" Maybe Lois saw things a bit differently, not having played Big Brother all over Oliver during his own personal lost weekend... or summer. Really, he'd never been unfaithful to Lois the way he had with... well, any other woman. Also, only a few months ago, Oliver had been declaring his love for her. As much as the thought of it still irked her, it could mean Lois saw him as relationship material. She'd better set her straight on...

"Yes. And the best part is now we can double date. How awesome is that?"

Oh, Dear God. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Lois, before you book us up for the next two months, Oliver and I are not a couple."

Lois crossed her arms. "Okay. Sure. Then what are you?"

"We're having fun. And we're not complicating things by using labels and definitions," she said levelly. She'd practiced this in her head several times this morning, after all.

"This is a relationship, Chloe, not a spelling bee."

Chloe decided not to even try to untangle that metaphor. "Look, I'm glad you have found someone that makes you happy. But we're not all cut out for coupledom. And with Ollie, I don't have to worry about that. We're no flowers, no presents, no pressure, no strings," she finished. There. Done.... or not. "And, with you, we're no comment," she added hastily, pointing at her.

Lois didn't like that any more than Chloe thought she would, by the pinched look on her face. But Chloe wasn't moving on it. What she had with Oliver was supposed to be an escape, not another thing to tie her in knots and that's what would happen if Lois was constantly nagging her about it. Maybe it was all coming from a good place, a protective place, but she knew Lois would be in her ear constantly, picking away at her because gray areas just didn't exist for her.

When Lois mimed locking her mouth, Chloe knew that still wouldn't be the end of it. But maybe that would buy her the rest of this weekend, at least. "Good," she said, heading for the door and the buffet. She stopped short of opening it. "And no telling my dad... or yours... or anyone."

"Oh, come on!"

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

By the time dinner rolled around, she felt like she was back on level ground. They hadn't seen Lois or Clark since brunch, except in passing. At the end of brunch, she'd joined Lois' pointed raptures about how cozy and romantic this place was for couples with her own pointed agreements about how she thought couples must love all the intimate walks for two and alone time. Considering how little Clark was still acknowledging that this was happening, he must have taken in some of it because she could swear she saw a tall guy dragging a girl with a long ponytail away from their general direction to multiple protests several times that day.

She wasn't about to turn this into some couples weekend, and not just because she and Oliver were not, not, not a couple. She and Lois lived together and it wasn't unreasonable to expect some time apart, away from the Talon's tight quarters. She didn't even get a lick of privacy at Watchtower with someone always needing something. Right now, she had privacy of a sort. She could do what she wanted, how she wanted, with who she wanted without unwelcome visitors or unwanted advice . Luckily, the who she wanted seemed to want the same thing. About halfway through dinner and all the way through a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, he relaxed as well and this weekend became, again, what it was supposed to be - something just between them without expectations or preconceived notions. On level ground again, if just a little tipsy.

"I must say," she said, dragging him into the room as they stumbled, just a little, into each other's arms. "I think your taste in wine is almost as good as your taste in women."

"Why, thank you." He spun her around just a little. It felt light, like dancing. Why hadn't they gone dancing?

Maybe because going dancing was for couples, which they were not.

"You have a little bit of pinot right there, actually," he said softly, tapping at her lips before meeting them. "Look at that, I got it."

The floaty feeling came back and she giggled as he moved to a spot on her neck, wondering if he'd claim she'd dribbled. Like he needed an excuse to kiss her. She turned her head to give him better access when she saw it on the bed. A present, with a bow. "Unless Christmas came early this year, that better not have my name on it," she said, slowing with each word as she realized it had to be for her and from him and that floaty feeling was going away and her level ground was shaking.

"Oh, well... Maybe you've just been especially good this year." He said lightly and she started to feel herself unclench. "Maybe a guy shouldn't take someone like you for granted," he added in a lower voice.

"I didn't think you were, Ollie," she said, worried now, but strangely giddy underneath. She'd said no presents. But if he came here with this, wanted her to have something badly enough to break that rule, it must be something special or... She turned it over, saw the golden MacDougall Inn sticker smacked on the damned ribbon. "Clark said something, didn't he?" She knew he'd been too quiet about this.

"It's just a gift," he whispered, not denying it. It seemed worse, somehow, now. If Oliver bought it because he wanted to, that would be one thing. But for him to get her some gift because he was basically told to...

"No, no, no, no. It's a slippery slope. Just because gifts are never just because. There's always some unspoken part like 'I'm sorry' or 'I feel very strongly about you,' both of which are complicated. Oliver, I wanted to keep things simple. You know? With, like, no strings... or ribbons." She grabbed her jacket from the chair and strode to the door. She had to get her head back on straight.

"Wait, wait... Hold the... Where are you going?" she heard behind her.

"I'm going for a walk.” She turned in the open doorway, “When I come back, can we just hit the reset button and play our favorite indoor game again?" She moved down the hall. That would straighten things out. She’d take a walk. They’d both have time to think. Then they could just go back. Really, this was nothing. With Clark and Lois here, one of them was bound to interfere in some way. Lois was a given, though she’d headed her off at the pass. But Clark... She’d had years of Clark jammed in every corner of her life. Of course he'd butt in. Though, to be honest, she hadn’t expected it anymore. The two of them had grown apart. It was to be expected. And, really, it was mostly Clark’s doing. She’d tried several times to reach out and had been brushed off pretty abruptly. So what the hell right did he have to interfere in her... business?

Well, she’d just tell him to stop butting in and that would be an end to it.

She lit one of the lanterns on the porch, probably meant for all those couples into intimate, moonlit strolls. Well, she’d take it solo and get her head together and everything would be fine. So why was she still so upset? It was a present Oliver had dropped on her, not a grenade.

Something was still nagging at her and it pulled harder as she walked the moonlit path and stepped onto the oh-so-romantic footbridge over the enchanting, idyllic stream. Why the hell had she chosen this place? Sure, it was off the beaten path, but it was a little full of... couples. All through dinner, there was this haze around them of nuzzling and secret footsie. Even the brochure had been pretty full of couples, which is probably why Clark, part of an actual couple, had thought Lois wanted this, as he'd said at brunch.

She pushed it away. Really, it was about that beaten path this place was... off. Though this tiny voice inside nagged at her. How many romantic get-aways have you even been on? It sounded suspiciously like Lois. Not like Jimmy ever swept you off anywhere. He hadn't. He'd even gone away with Kara to Coast City, but her... Maybe this is what you wanted, maybe you were secretly hoping...

No. She wasn’t and she wouldn’t. This place was just... secret. Maybe not as secret as she wanted, but that was still why she chose it. Not for the scenic forest views or cozy decor or the strange women standing alone in the woods...

That stopped her thoughts cold. Nobody should be standing alone in the woods in happy couple land. “Hello?” She crossed the bridge slowly as lightening flashed, which was nuts because there didn’t seem to be any rain falling on her.

She amended her thoughts to reflect that nobody should be venturing alone into the woods, strange women or not. Hadn’t she watched enough basic horror movies to know that?

Still, curiosity, as always, won out and she found herself moving in the direction of that woman. But she didn’t see her, just little streams of rain falling from the trees ahead, though she couldn’t feel so much as a droplet on her.

“So much for a relaxing walk to calm my nerves,” she said shakily, aloud. Really, she needed to hear something even if it was her own voice. She’d just head back. Maybe it was just a trick of the lightning she saw or... She stumbled slightly on what looked like blackened roots in the near-dark, but had felt slightly squishy against the toe of her shoe. What looked like part of a log was right near it.

She leaned down, grabbing hold of the strangely loose bark. The queasy feeling in her stomach told her she wouldn’t like what she found. Really, no girl alone in the woods at night ever did, as countless horror movies attested. Unfortunately for her, she’d never been one to leave any stone... or log unturned.

She gasped as she saw a face.... or what was left of one. It looked black and flaked, like it had been burned or petrified and... “Definitely not calm,” she said loudly, again. Just to know she was really there. This was really happening. It felt strangely like a nightmare. Her weekend getaway gone awry. With Clark and Lois and presents and dead bodies showing up. Unfortunately, the rest of her life up till now told her that she wouldn't be waking up in the next few seconds. Of course it would all go to hell.

Of course, when she turned to run back to the safety of the inn, a woman with a skeletal face that flashed in the lightning would grab her. Of course, she’d be unable to get away. Of course, she’d lose consciousn...

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

She stared at the box, thinking she should be more bothered about the evil spirits, possession, and Clark seeing her naked. But no. Here she was, obsessing about a box. She hadn’t slept, and not just because of last night’s little adventure. If she couldn’t sleep after each time something otherwordly happened to her, she’d have been an insomniac since thirteen. That was just life in Smallville... or Metropolis... or about anywhere she chose to go.

So much for getting away.

Of course, last night’s shenanigans did have a part in it. Being around Clark, even investigating with him, left her feeling uneasy these days. There was a tension that couldn’t be cut with snarky comments and a coldness that never seemed to go away. But that, she supposed, was nothing new these days.

No. It was mostly this present that had her staring at the ceiling next to an equally silent and still Oliver. Since he wasn’t rolling into her and practically shoving her off the bed, she was sure he hadn’t slept, either. He had a better excuse, having nearly been killed, although he should be used to it. Still, near-death was certainly a better reason to lose sleep than a slim 5x2 box with a blue ribbon.

She wasn’t sure what to do with it. Rejecting it would mean she absolutely rejected the possibility of anything more. Accepting it would mean she was probably hoping for something more. She wasn’t sure why such a tiny box would have this much power over her, but there it was. Maybe if she just opened it, acknowledged that it existed, that crazy possibility that there might be more. Then she could decide what the hell to do about it... She started to pull at the ribbon, then stopped herself before it fell away. What if opening it meant she accepted it, that she was secretly hoping for something more? Or maybe that secret was out, considering she picked a woodsy inn that even she had to admit was just this side of honeymoon material.

She took a deep breath and tucked it into her bag, trying not to think of what that meant because she really couldn’t keep obsessing over...

“It’s a spoon.”

A spoon? She turned toward the door and there he was. She gave him a questioning look, wondering what about her screamed that she needed a spoon. But she saved most of that look for herself. You just lost a night’s sleep over a spoon.

“I bought you a spoon, one of those little... People collect them. I thought about getting you... uh... some of those little decorative soaps,” he added in an awkward rush. “Then, ultimately, you didn’t need either one of them. Did you?”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, getting up moving toward him. “I mean, I’m more partial to sporks, myself,” she tried to joke, feeling even sillier about her freak-out and with no idea what to do with her hands. She shoved them in her pockets. “But a girl can never have too many... spoons.”

“Yeah, well... I never should have wrapped up that Pandora’s box to begin with and second guessed myself... or us,” he added firmly. “From now on I won’t.”

“Maybe we’ll just say that next time you won’t take advice about relationships from Clark Kent.” The man had gone from Lana to Lana to Lana again for eight full years with no success, after all.

He nodded and his jaw tensed slightly. “You know, speaking of Clark,” he began, moving closer. “For future references and, you know, strictly for environmental purposes... The next time you want to take a shower with someone, Chloe, you can just ask me.”

She was wondering what had him sleepless next to her and just a little sullen as they dressed and packed. She’d kind of thought the possession aspect had been clearer, that he'd know she wasn't driving, so to speak. So he’d been jealous. Again. The idea of it made her slightly giddy and she repressed a laugh. "I can't remember blacking out and I wish I could forget waking up," she said, rolling her eyes at him, at herself, at the silliness of all of this.

"Really? Well, it couldn't have been that bad, right? Wasn't there a time when you would have given just about anything to stare at that farmer's tan in all it's glory, I'm guessing?"

"That was a long time ago, like, in a Smallville far, far away," she said decisively. He didn't look too convinced. "I mean... Okay. Yeah. I did love Clark. A lot. And I waited for years for him to see that... to see... me," she mused. "But even with his x-ray vision, he never did. And, even more than that I just wanted someone who would... get me. And as good a friend as Clark is," she said soberly, "he's never going to be that person, which is fine. Really." She told herself that, too. She didn't pine after him, not that way. Not now. But maybe for the friend... But that had nothing to do with her and Oliver. She'd try not to let it. "I mean, those wounds healed over a thousand super-saves ago. Now there's just scars," she finished, giving him a slight smile.

He returned it, leaning in to whisper "It's Clark's loss," giving her that slightly cocky smile that she always just wanted to kiss off him.

But not before she asked it. She just had to. Maybe it was a needy question, but, damn it, he'd asked first. "What about your loss?" she asked, keeping her smile steady as she moved to the railing, perching on it. "I'm sure Lois didn't have to drag you into the woods, kicking and screaming."

"Ah... It's..." He started awkwardly as he moved to perch next to her. "The funny thing about scars. They're always there."

She nodded, trying and failing to murmur some kind of reply before her eyes met the floor. She had to ask, didn't she? Hadn't he been declaring his love for her only a few months ago? Still, it wouldn't change anything. Except for how now she just knew that, under everything, Lois would be the one he...

"It doesn't mean they haven't healed," she heard and chanced a look at him, all smirky smiles that she felt the renewed urge to kiss right off him. "Sometimes they can be kind of cute, too." She rolled her eyes. "You have one in particular that I'm kind of..."

She gave in and grabbed him by the lapels, laying one on him before pulling away with a soft "Shhh."

He leaned in. "What? There's no one out here." He met her lips again.

"Mmmm... We shouldn't start anything," she said, muffled against his lips.

"You started it." He pulled her closer and planted small, soft kisses on her jaw and lower. "Can't just go around kissing guys on porches," he murmured, "and not expect to get kissed back."

"We have a long drive back," she gasped.

"Does it have to be now?" He lifted his head. "What time's checkout?"

"Noon," she breathed, catching on. "No. Definitely not. Bart's been in town with full access to Watchtower and..."

"One more night. Not even a whole night. You can be there first thing tomorrow morning." He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Come on. Our weekend away was totally hijacked by unwanted entities."

She nodded. "The Silver Banshee."

"Her, too," he said, grabbing her bag and his own and backing away. "We need a little rest before we go back."

She had to laugh. "How much rest are you actually planning?" But she followed.

"At least some." He turned at the door, nudging her through and down the hall. "I don't know about you, but I hardly slept."

She whirled on him short of the door. "If you want to know about me, then take your sleeplessness and multiply it by a billion." She tilted her head. "Have you ever shared a bed?"

He gave her a funny look and moved ahead. "Never had any complaints before."

"I mean sleeping."

"Well, it's rare, but..."

"Let me clue you in, then. You're the worst bed hog ever."

He stopped in the middle of turning the key and regarded her. "Come on. I don't..."

She batted his hand away and turned it herself. "I barely escaped with my life," she said, moving into their reclaimed room as he picked up their bags and tossed them in. "It's like all of the bed belongs to you and any other party is an intruder, quick to be pushed right off."

"Come on." He closed the door. "I sleep on a couch, for crying out loud. If I was that into taking space, I'd be on the floor every morning."

"Well, you did. You kept rolling right into me, over and over. If I moved, you rolled that way. It's like I couldn't escape."

He snapped his fingers. "You should have just stayed there, be the barrier."

"What?"

"I'm used to a couch, used to a little something to lean on."

"You mean suffocate."

"I'm serious. Maybe I was searching for the back of the couch. If you just stayed still..."

"With you pushing at me?"

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "I wasn't going to say anything, but you started it." He pointed at her. "You know what I did while you slept?"

"Hardly slept," she shot back.

"I spat hair out of my face. For someone with such short hair, it's everywhere," he said, gesturing widely. "Every time I thought I could just breathe, there it was, choking me."

She scoffed loudly. "So is that why you were pushing me off the bed?"

"I never tried to push you, but since I was fighting for breath, maybe it was self-defense."

"If anyone couldn't breathe, it was me, with you smothering me every few seconds. Maybe sleeping in the same bed is just some huge mistake."

His lips thinned and he leaned into her. "You know? I don't know what the hell I do when I sleep. But maybe I wasn't trying to smother you. Maybe I was trying to get near you, but that's just not allowed, is it?"

She drew back. "You go from sleeping habits to..."

He stepped back as well. "I'm sorry. That was too..." He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "No. You know what? I'm not sorry. There."

She just stared at him. She could tell this was something he'd been saving up. "What the hell are you talking about? I've let you nearer than anyone this..."

"You've let me as near as you want and no farther. I can't even give you a spoon without you running off turning into a man-hating she-demon!"

"Because I was possessed by a man-hating she-demon!"

"Yes, but you wouldn't have been if you hadn't run off. We could have talked, Chloe. You could have stayed for us to work out this... God!" He paced away, running a hand roughly through his hair. "I don't even know what to call it. And that doesn't even matter and I know we're not defining this, but you have." He gestured to her impatiently. "Just, all by yourself. You've decided the boundaries and rules of our supposedly casual, undefined, relaxed relationship and you have from the start."

"Fine! Fair enough. You think I've been driving." She let out a deep breath. "Maybe I have. Maybe I've been a little too rigid, which is totally not in the spirit of a carefree... thing, so..." She sat on the bed and smiled. "If you want to sit down and set your own parameters..."

"God, no! That's the last thing I want to do!"

She shot up. "The what do you want? I mean, besides to pace around being dramatic..."

"Because that's your job?"

"Hey!"

"I don't know what I want! Okay? I just know..." He took a deep breath and hunkered down on the chair. "I don't know where this is going. I don't want to know where this is going, but I also don't want this lockdown on where this is not going. I don't want expectations, but I also don't want limits. I don't want to think I can't give you something, even if it is a stupid spoon. I mean, yes, I know that Clark might have put that particular spoon in my head, but... Damn it, Chloe, I don't want to think that I can't do something nice for you when I genuinely want to," he finished, staring at the carpet.

Chloe stared at the top of his head, trying to think of what to say to all of that. He was right. "I want... I mean... I could... not want those things, too... maybe."

He looked up. "Then maybe we can just... I don't know. Maybe start over."

She took off her jacket. "Let's start by sleeping together."

He shook his head and chuckled. "We already started that way. Besides, I'm not in the mood right this..."

"Neither am I. I mean we should sleep. I think we need it."

He stood and shrugged off his own jacket. "You think you can keep that hair under control?"

"Depends on if you let me stay in one place."

He toed off his shoes and crawled into bed, pulling her with him. "Maybe just stay right about here," he said, pulling her against his chest.

TBC

Done with Escape. I didn't deal with every moment because I want to keep this down to Chlollie as much as possible.

I'm just shooting up my little roadblocks to love as I come to them. I felt the end of Escape left things kind of static and I wanted to open it up a little more. Oliver agreeing she was right to freak out was kind of meh for me. So I added a little bit at the end. Also, I let them sleep because I really didn't want them to deal with a long drive home after all that banshee nonsense hijacked the whole damned night.

I did notice that she didn't mention Jimmy in Escape and I wanted to deal with it in Offscreenvillefor this ep , but I couldn't make it flow here. As much as I never shipped it, Chimmy should have come up between Chlollie on the show at least once just to really close the book on the idea that it was a love for the ages. So look for that to be dealt with and put to bed along with one final hammering in for Chlark after Checkmate's events.

So what was with the lightning and the rain about two feet from Chloe, but none on her? None on anyone, despite all the dripping around, actually. I’ll have to go with a (wizard) evil banshee ghost did it, I guess. Of course, I can’t explain why an all-powerful banshee decided to outfit herself at the local Halloween Adventure store. Maybe the economy is affecting the ghost world.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER EIGHT

Action Time (Chapter Six)

2011-03-12T02:53:00.000-08:00

CHAPTER SIX

"Clark... I mean Clark knows something about keeping secrets, but Lois..." Chloe stopped pacing up and down and sank to the bed, burying her face in her hands.

"Oh, come on." Oliver said as she peeked through her fingers at him, just laying back on the bed, looking strangely relaxed --- as if this wasn't a disaster. "Who's she gonna tell?"

She dropped her hands and turned to him. He was right, as annoying as it was to see him so relaxed when she was so... not. Lois didn't know the rest of the gang at all. Maybe Lois wasn't known for her discretion, but... but... "My family," she said dully. "I mean. Not just her dad, but mine."

"I thought he was in Wisconsin now."

"He is and... I mean, we've kept him off the radar since the blacklisting." She shook herself. "But he is her uncle and if she really wanted to..."

"She won't track him down just to..."

"To tell her I'm dating a billionaire? Of course she would."

"So we're... dating now?" He sat up.

"Of course we aren't," she said quickly. "I mean, I didn't say we were. I just mean that Lois..."

"No. Definitely," he was quick to agree. "People go away on weekend get-aways and the other people that come upon them might think... But we're not."

"Definitely not," she finished. "Anyway, I know very well what we're doing here."

"Not that we're doing it," he grumbled, laying back on the pillows again. Naked, which was a little distracting. She'd learned, in their very limited alone time up till now, that Oliver had no problem being naked as the day he was born for long stretches. Tonight was just another example. While she'd been pacing the room in her MacDougal Issue plaid robe, he'd thrown his off as soon as they got back in the room with a strangely disinterested "That was awkward."

She still marveled at him. "That was awkward?" she said. It was minutes after, but still...

"What?"

"Seriously, that's all you make of us running into them here?"

He shrugged, even with his arms still folded behind his head. "I thought awkward summed it up pretty well. But you're the writer. Since you want to spend all night dictating your giant novel about it until the wee hours, completely overreacting and..."

She turned to him with a withering look. "I am not overreacting. I am... reacting, plain and simple. Something you're not doing, but why should I be surprised?"

He lifted his head - and his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"Let's not pretend you didn't secretly want this. God knows why, but..."

"It's no secret. I mean, sneaking around has its thrills for about two seconds. But once it gets to long trips, lying to everyone we know, and bleeding people with sharp letter openers..."

"Oh, my God! Will you let that go?" she burst out before lowering her voice. "I barely scratched you," she finished on a hiss.

"Is it such a disaster?" he asked, leaning up on one elbow. "People knowing? I mean, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You spend half your time in a tiny apartment where neither you or Lois has your own room and the other half in a building that at least seven other people can access at will."

"But..."

"And you pretty much refuse to come to my place."

"You mean your office? Where two different Luthors spent years, on and off, plotting my demise? Forgive me if that's not the biggest turn on for me."

"Fine, fine." He sat up. "The point is that yes, I am relieved. Now I don't have to waste a significant amount of my time wondering if Greco-Roman wrestling is a good enough cover for when we really got caught." He tugged on her arm.

She let out a startled laugh as she fell against him. "Greco-Roman wrestling?"

"Well, with a few new rules. Grabbing below the waist is allowed, even encouraged. But the ancient rules of complete nudity and covering both players with olive oil should be upheld.. for tradition."

"That's Greek wrestling," she breathed as he started grabbing below her waist.

"Know-it-all," he muttered, catching her hands in one of his and flipping them over. "Anyway, what's changed?" He held her hands over her head and slid one hand up the part in her robe to catch her sash. "Our daily lives are pretty much as they were an hour ago, except now," he pulled at knot until it unraveled, "we have the freedom," he peeled the robe from one side, then the other, "to do what we want," he finished as he leaned down to her.

She was torn between conceding he had a point and accusing him of getting around her with -- Dear God! -- a pair of well-placed lips just below her ear, which was pretty much cheating. But, in the end, she figured both were persuasive. More freedom? Good. Less worrying? Good. His lips? As always, very good. "What does it matter?" she sighed as he rocked against her, still nibbling so convincingly at her neck. Really, this was fixable.

"Exactly," he murmured into her skin.

"I know what we'll do."

"Me, too." He slid downwards and brushed his lips over her collarbone. "But I don't have any olive oil."

She giggled, then sucked in a breath as his lips met her right nipple. "I'll just talk to Lois in the morning and explain about discretion and..."

"No." He lifted his head and let her wrists go.

She blinked up at him. "No? Oliver, we need to contain..."

"Chloe, I don't care what you say to Lois in the morning, but right now, in this room and this bed, it's you and me and no one else." He leaned up. "You going to give me that or do I have to get a room that doesn't have a dozen imaginary people in it?"

"Oliver..." She slid her arms around his neck. "Fine, I get it."

"No. You don't get it. You keep talking about how this is private and our business and now a few people know and you act like it's headline news. What's changed, Chloe?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "I was just saying you were right and..."

"And formulating your little plans," he said, pulling at her arms.

Sure, she was. And she was damned sure she'd talk to Lois in the morning, but he was right. That had no place here. She held onto him steadily. "You must have been imagining things. I'm not even a little worried." She slid a foot alongside his calf and arched into him. "It's only between four people."

He chuckled and relaxed against her, pressing into her. "Yeah. Including us, I guess."

"Oh!" She hadn't counted them. "Then I guess it's really six," she murmured against his shoulder.

He stiffened. "Six?"

She stared up at him as he peeled himself off her. "Well, us, them, John and Victor..."

He pushed away and sat up. "John and Vic know?"

She sat up as well. "Well, they don't full on know, but..." She shrugged. "No, they know."

"How do they know?"

"Well, one's a telepath and the other's strangely observant. They put it together. I figured they knew, but I didn't think it mattered because neither Jon or Victor is the gossiping type. I mean, out of everyone we know... Besides, you just said it didn't matter if people knew."

"Well, yeah, but that was about telling them. But it's weird if they knew without me knowing they know." He shook his head and put his feet on the floor. "Why didn't you tell me they know?"

"It's not like they outright know know. I just heavily suspect that they heavily suspect."

"Which means they know," he said, throwing his hands up. "Now I feel like an idiot. I could have sworn Victor was giving me looks when I said I was going to check in at Watchtower in person after..."

"Oliver..." She grasped his chin. "As you said, what's changed?" She pushed him to his back and he let her.

He sighed. "So I guess everyone's going to know."

"It's inevitable." She leaned on his chest, resigning herself to it. "We're going to hear it, you know. I'm talking extensive ribbing, jealousy, accusations of special treatment..."

"And that's just Bart." Oliver chuckled. "He'll be toning down the flirting, at least."

Chloe sighed heavily. "I know. Shame."

Oliver leaned up. "Excuse me?"

"What? It's flattering."

"I don't flatter you enough?"

She laughed. "Now that you mention it, you don't make up adorable nicknames for me and kiss my hand..."

He rolled her over. "Because I kiss you in better places."

"True enough," she conceded. "But, I was thinking... if we can just keep it between the least amount of people for just a little..."

"Oh, my God!" he groaned, leaning down and fixing his mouth to hers for a good half-minute before letting up. "You do realize that it's a waste of a sexy weekend away when there is virtually no sex going on. I've a good mind to take my manly parts to another room," he said, but he nuzzled her neck as he said it.

"This place is booked solid. There are no other rooms," she said languidly as she stretched beneath him.

"I know." He lifted his head. "Once again, great secret hide-away you picked."

"Would you stop talking?"

His eyes widened. "Me? Me stop..."

She lifted her head and pressed her lips to his.

Apart from the occasional groan, sigh or softly growled demand, they both stopped talking.

Three times.

She'd hoped to drift peacefully off after that. Her body certainly wanted to, but she was still stewing when he had the nerve to fall into a stupor right next to her. She turned to glare at him, but her heart wasn't in it.

He looked so peaceful, nearly boyish, in sleep and she reflected that she hadn't seen him like this. Even the few times they had fallen asleep together on Watchtower's sofa, the waking was soon after and rushed and harried and filled with thrown clothes and panicked whispers. Awake, Oliver's face was always in motion. Laughing, glaring, smirking, grimacing, eyes dancing with mischief or hot with anger or warm as they moved over her. Now there was just peace and the tiniest hint of a smile on one side of his mouth. There was something sweet about that. She nearly wanted to wake him up oh-so-accidentally and murmur how sorry she was against his lips. He wouldn't complain for long.

She pulled away and turned on her back, staring at the ceiling. She wouldn't. She'd just had him, for crying out loud.

He was right in that nothing had changed. Nothing had to change just because people knew. If anything, it might be easier if they didn't have to hide. But she couldn't help feeling something had changed. Not tonight, but all along. From the first time her time had seemed divided by sex and everything else. And it sometimes seemed that everything else was just something to get through before she could feel free to be with him again. And that was... scary. It wasn't something she'd felt before.

She wouldn't deny that she had closed herself off this year. That she needed something more than work in her life. And now she had it. And maybe she needed it. But she just didn't want to need it quite so much. But maybe that was because this was temporary. That it would fade. That it would end. It had to. She wanted to think that, when this ended, they could be okay. They could part as friends. She wanted to think of how reasonable and adult they would be when they agreed that this had run its course.

She took a deep breath and decided she could be. She had to be. She just had to be clear in what they were... which they weren't defining. But she could be clear about not being clear... if that was possible. It only felt like this because it would end, she decided. Even repeated it to herself. If she felt more for Oliver than she had for... for others, it was only because she knew their time was limited. Nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing.

She'd tried to force herself to gently drift off after that, and she nearly did until Oliver rolled right into her, huffing in her ear.

At first, she tried to be tolerant. She was was sure Oliver, like her, was used to having a bed to himself, so when he kept rolling into her on the left side (which she'd, for years, considered hers), she prodded him gently away until he rolled over. And he'd seemed like he'd stay. Then he did it again... and again... and again. At that point, she decided he must be used to the left, too. And he was obviously more invested in the left side than she was if he had to claim it even in his sleep. So she clambered over him and settled on the right.

She did sleep, then, in fits and starts, but every so often she woke to find him mowing into her. It wasn't like cuddling. It was more like bulldozing right into her and she'd thought he was doing it on purpose until she pulled up one eyelid to find it rolled up and him still dead asleep. It seemed no matter where she moved, she ended up nearly on the floor every time she shot awake and, left or right, she was starting to wondered if she got any side of the bed at all as he seemed to want to sprawl over every bit of it.

She stopped looking at the alarm clock at one point, but she was sure she hadn't got more than a few interrupted hours when he lifted his head off her stomach (he'd actually ended up across the bed by then).

"Sleep well?" he had the gall to ask her. She was about to tell him exactly how well she slept when he gave her a lazy smile. "I almost forgot, I owe you."

Damn right, you do. A good night's sleep, she might have said if she had the energy. But she could only watch hazily as he nuzzled her stomach.

"I never paid you back," he murmured, working his way downward with soft brushes of his lips and the occasional nibble. She supposed he was talking about her own trip downtown last night. Before they went to sleep -- or he did -- he'd seemed determined to reciprocate, but she'd been too eager to feel him inside her as many times as she could. She would have protested that he didn't owe her anything, but he was already between her thighs by then and, after the sleep wars, she decided it was the least he could do.

She just sighed and opened her legs further, letting out a small moan as his lips and tongue teased at her. She stared down as the sun poured in, catching the tips of his sleep-mussed hair and giving a glint to his eyes as they bore hers. She could feel him smiling against her as her hips started to writhe. His hands clamped down on either side and he closed his eyes, lips and tongue working in earnest.

When her orgasm crashed over her, she felt swept away, all sleepy and tingly and wonderfully relaxed. Every other time seemed almost frantic, always the risk of trouble or intruders. But not today. Not here. Maybe not anywhere or ever again, now that people knew. It seemed almost a blessing, if she thought about it.

Which she didn't. She could feel her mind hazing over into sleep even as he crawled upwards and hovered above her.

"Damn. I was hoping... Oh, well." He settled the blankets on her. "I'll take the first shower. Alone," he finished on a sigh.

She started to lift her hand and pull him back. But who was she kidding? She was asleep before her hand hit the bed again.

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

By the time she stepped out of the shower, she felt better. Not fully rested, of course. She couldn't have had more than a half hour before he sailed back into the room, clapping his hands in her face and trumpeting that they'd miss brunch. She still had a good mind to tell him exactly how many times he nearly bumped her right off the bed. But not right now. She was hungry, He must be, too.

He seemed to be hungry for more than food when he watched her dressing and even tried to "help" her a few times.

"Hey!" She grabbed her tank off the floor where he'd accidentally dropped it. "You're the one who said we needed to hustle to make brunch. The buffet's gone in five minutes."

"Well, maybe we can skip it. Find some other place to eat. I mean, all the other... couples will be there."

She stilled as she pulled her tank over her head. "Including..." She'd forgot. She really had. She hastily grabbed her sweater and yanked it on. She supposed they could find somewhere else, but... Her stomach growled as if taking exception to the idea... but not in the next five minutes. "Come on. We'll have to face them sooner or later." She opened the door and turned back. "Unless they left."

"They might have," he said, ushering her down the hall until they reached a door at the end with "dining hall" in swirly letters.

"I mean, it's possible. If they were looking for a get-away, then we're here... I mean, that's hardly getting away." She turned to him. "They might have just... gone. Right?"

He smiled and ran a hand over her collarbone. "Of course they did. You know Clark. He was probably so embarrassed by the whole thing, he convinced Lois to go back home as soon as they saw us," he said as he opened the door.

"Really?" she asked hopefully as she moved in ahead of him.

"No," he said lightly, closing the door.

She nearly whirled on him to tell him he was not funny when she saw them over the railing. "Oh, God," she groaned. They were at a table on the end and didn't look to have any packed bags around them.

"You know what we could do?" He drew up next to her. "We could pretend not to see them."

She doubted they'd buy that, with Lois waving madly and finding the loudest possible way to say "Psst!" the minute she spotted them. Subtle as a bull in a china shop, as always. She turned to Oliver and steeled herself. "Oh, come on, Ollie. Throw up the white flag. It's Lois. She makes Susan B. Anthony look like a quitter."

She preceded him down the stairs. This was going to be... excruciating.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER SEVEN