Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville.
Summary: Clark Kent is six years younger than Chloe Sullivan; What happens when he meets the pretty blonde on a journalistic venture in Smallville? Why, she drags the cute "kid" along with her.
Chloe Sullivan pursed her lips as she stared out the window, surveying the rural countryside with a grimace. Once upon a time she'd actually grown up in this place; Smallville had been the journalistic reporter's "home" for nearly seven years; From the age of twelve to the age of nineteen she'd grown up amidst hay-balers and small-town gossips, the only interesting things being the school paper and the "Meteor freaks".
Smallville had been hit by a meteor shower nearly sixteen years ago; The young reporter's parents had been driving through and their car had been pushed off the road by one, injuring both her and her mother. Apparently the trauma of the event was, in small part at least, responsible for her mother's hospitalization in Bell Reeve Asylum. The blonde, to this day, would remember coming home to find her father sitting at the table, tears running down the usually cheerful man's cheeks as he told her the news.
Her last memories of the woman had been her smile as she handed her her breakfast. It was a silly thing to remember, but she'd had waffles that morning moments before saying goodbye to one of her parental figures. They'd moved here the year after and the normally outgoing girl had been withdrawn for the better part of two years.
Shaking herself out of old memories, Chloe turned back to the window, grimace turning to a small smile. While her highschool experience hadn't been the best, what with her bold nature, disdain for cheer-leading and lack of stimulating conversation, she still had good memories of the humdrum "Meteor Capital of the world."
It was as she pulled up to her current destination; The home of two of the nicest people Chloe had had the fortune of meeting in this town and two people that had practically force-fed her and her father their fruits and vegetables for those years that they'd have otherwise lived off of microwave meals and cheap macaroni and casseroles, (And no offense to her father; But he couldn't cook. His macaroni was practically a death sentence.) that she finally admitted to the trepidation that the small town brought forth. But she was back, finally, to solve the whole "Meteor mutation" phenomena and shake off the jeers of her co-workers, at long last. A little nervousness wouldn't stop her.
That didn't stop her from fiddling with the blonde locks hanging in front of her face as she pulled up in front of the warm-blue home and stopped the car, stepping out and taking a deep breathe.
She paced up to the house, not allowing any second guessing to cloud her thoughts, and rung the doorbell. Moments later the door was answered.
Her green eyes widened as she took in the figure standing in front of her, from the muscles that near-strained the obviously not-new blue shirt and-thank-you-god-for-that to the chiseled, model-like features, complete with stunning blue eyes and a wild mop of thick, black hair. "Can I help you?" The Adonis asked, towering over her.
"Y-Yes." She composed herself under the confused, wary gaze locked onto her face, nodding briskly. "Do Martha and Jonathan Kent live here?" She queried, brow furrowed with worry. She hadn't imagined that Mr. Kent would ever sell the farm, but people changed and it had been a long time since she was last here.
"DAD, MOM!" The man shouted out, and her jaw dropped as she recognized the massive hunk as the skinny, mildly-gangly boy that had once shyly handed her a copy of the Daily Planet after she had bemoaned the lack of it in front of the Kent's.
Jonathan Kent answered the door, slightly more weathered but otherwise just as she remembered him. "Can I help you?" He asked, just as wary as his son as he took in the Daily Planet pass affixed to her lapel. She felt vaguely hurt that he didn't remember but she smiled as the redhead matriarch of the family appeared next to him.
Mrs. Kent had a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, mostly laugh-lines, but she was still just as stunning as she had been when she'd chuckled at the promiscuous little girl who "Reminded her of herself as a child". Her eyes lit up in recognition. "Chloe?" She gasped.
Jonathan's eyes flickered with confusion, but then he noticed her name-tag and he, too, recognized her. "Chloe!" He spoke warmly, smiling at the girl.
"Come on in, Do you want something to drink? I've got cookies in the oven." The older woman ushered her into the house, near-dragging her to take a seat in the living room.
"Uh, some coffee would be great, thanks." She said meekly, earning a fond chuckle from the redhead.
"I should've guessed that." She bustled into the kitchen, leaving Chloe alone in the living room. She noticed Jonathan talking to Clark in the corner of her eye and watched as the younger of the two first squinted at her and then, listening to his father's words, tilted his head as though remembering something a long time ago and then, finally, the pieces clicked together, and he remembered her.
She wasn't surprised that he'd forgotten her; They'd only seen each other about three, maybe four times, each time briefer than the last, but now that she had seen him she was pretty sure she wouldn't be forgetting him any time soon.
The tall youth came into the living room, his father walking into the kitchen and leaving the two of them alone. "So... I didn't recognize you." He started awkwardly.
She grinned and relaxed, trying to hide the blubbering teenage girl inside currently looking out and screaming at the top of her lungs 'YES, YES, OH HELLS YEAH!' "Gotta admit, I didn't recognize you either, you've gotten tall." She chuckled, trying to ease out of the tension in the room. "So you'd be about... Fifteen?"
"Sixteen." He corrected with a magnificent smile. "Yeah, I hit about six foot when I was fourteen and then kept getting bigger." He joked, oblivious to her wandering eyes.
Strong, Handsome (with a capital "H"), legal, polite and kind... God, if he were any more perfect... "So, what do you do around the town?" She questioned casually.
"Well, most of the time I work at the farm." Too good! "But I'm on the football team as well," And there we go... "I also do the sports section for the Torch. With all the weird things around town I generally got caught up in the middle of it all and eventually I got pushed into the role of editor." He shrugged.
Chloe resisted the urge to jump him there and then, shifting her focus onto those last words. "Oh! I was the editor as well." She grinned. "Is it still as weird around town as it used to be?"
"If by 'Weird' you mean 'Dangerous' then, yeah, it's bizarre." He shook his head, obviously remembering the strange things around town. "Bug-boys, electric nut-jobs, shape-shifters..." He started off with double-meanings and then, upon realizing that she didn't think he was a wacko, carried on with more confidence. "A guy who turned himself young again, a girl who could turn people to ashes with a touch..." He shook his head once more.
"I had to deal with a fire-throwing coach and a de-aging youth-sucking old woman obsessed with her glory years. Not to mention a psychotic cheerleader who could manipulate her bones and a stretching guy." She paused. "Speaking of stretching..."
As though he were psychic Clark chimed in, finishing the sentence. "Hank the mechanic?" She blinked as they briefly synchronized. "I know, right! I thought I was the only one who noticed that!" He nodded vigorously.
The spend a moment just laughing, remembering the various strange things around the town.
"So, is that's why you're here?" He asked almost nervously.
The petite blonde nodded, watching as he appeared even more nervous with that gesture. "Not so much the "Meteor freak" angle, some of these people are actually good and don't deserve the unwanted attention." He relaxed back into his seat at her words and clarity struck her. That would explain it. Nonetheless she shoo'ed that thought away. She had learnt the hard way that some people deserved their privacy, powers or no. "But more the "Why". Why do people get affected by the meteors? How does it happen? What affects the changes?" She listed off.
"I get it." He furrowed his brow. "But aren't you afraid you'll get into danger?"
"Truthfully," She shook her head, smiling and blushing. "I'm more afraid of getting lost. I haven't been here in years." She explained.
For a moment the large farmboy hesitated, then, as though he were subjecting himself to a walk through fire, he spoke. "I could show you around."