Disclaimer: Do not own Smallville
Summary: A French - Canadian. And Clark gets jealous.
Author Note: Ok so firstly, i have nothing against French - Canadians. Just to clear that up. And i should really be continuing my other story but this just popped into my head so tell me what you all think.

Green – Eyed Monster

Clark ground his teeth together as he watched the 'perfect' couple cocooned together. Because that's what they were doing. Cocooning. They weren't hugging. Hell they weren't even cuddling. They were wrapped around each other – hands splayed everywhere – legs trying to draw each other closer – though how they possibly could get any closer was a mystery to Clark.

Whatever.

It wasn't as if it bothered him or anything. Nope. Couldn't people – namely Lois and Jean- Claude (he was apparently French – Canadian, how about that) – be considerate to other people's low threshold to this amount of PDA. Especially in the working area. Clark would really prefer it if he could enjoy his coffee without watching people dry hump each other. It had occurred to him that he was sitting right next to a window, where there was a perfect view of the sun slowly setting, but he just could Not. Stop. Staring.

It wasn't him that was clutching her hips in a sex induced frenzy. It wasn't him that was whispering, sweet nothings, in the shell of her ear. It wasn't him that was making her moan; voice ripped open and raw. It wasn't him that was mouthing butterfly kisses down her neck. It wasn't him that said those three words.

But, god, he wished it was, so damn much.

"Hey, Clark"

"Hey Chloe" Clark glanced up at Chloe and offered her a brief smile before returning to glowering at him. He wondered if he flew the guy to the Antarctic and left him next to a hungry Polar bear. It wasn't like anyone was going to actually miss him, everyone around the Daily Planet hated Jean-Claude. Or that's what Clark told himself, blocking out the fact that the women had been coming into work, dressing more and more provocatively each day. He also failed to realize that the majority of the men had also taken a liking to that asshole as he used to be an ex – Yankees player. Clark liked to live in his own little world.

"Still picturing ways to kill Lois's new boyfriend?" Chloe questioned, amused at Clark's posture. Sitting at his full height, fists clenched around his coffee cup, practically frothing at the mouth.

"Huh? No, of course not. I . . um. . . love him. He's so . . perfect" Clark spat the last word out as if it would burn him if it stayed a second longer on the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah, you're just radiating waves of love right now"

"Go away" Clark replied, petulantly, barely restraining to stomp his foot.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Exhibit A: Superman in the early years"

"Shhhh!"

"Not everyone, has super hearing Kent"

"Uh huh"

Shouldn't they be coming up for air about now? It had already been two whole painstakingly minutes. One of them had to be running out of air; personally Clark was hoping it was Jean-Claude, maybe he might choke on the lack of oxygen and die. That would be a sweet ending to his day.

"Ya know, this is all your fault"

"Didn't I tell you to go away?"

3 minutes. Was he a swimmer in his past life or something? No one could hold their breaths that long!

"If you grabbed a pair and asked her out, then maybe it would have been you who would be going home with her tonight and have hot sex." Chloe said, sparing him a pitying glance mixed with exasperation and anger. "Instead she's gonna go home with the hot French guy"

Finally! He should really have Chloe do a background check on Jean – Claude (he really needed to figure out a new name for that thing. Huh, that one worked pretty well) because it was impossible to forgo oxygen for four whole minutes. Clark decided to pay no heed to the fact that Lois too could survive with out oxygen for four minutes.

"She's not going to go home with him" At Chloe's silence, Clark looked up at her hopefully waiting for her to reassure him, that of course Lois wasn't going to go home with thing (Clark had decided to stick with that name). But no gentle, supportive words met with his ears. "Right?"

"What can I say Clark? I mean he's gorgeous. And he's French. And he's semi – famous. And he's loaded" Chloe paused, her eyes flittering over the still intact couple. "It's a no – brainer really"

"I'm looking for my friend Chloe Sullivan? Short. Blonde. Is usually nice and sympathetic. You seen her around?"

What that earned him was a hard slap to the back of his head; impulsively he rubbed the offending spot even though he hadn't felt a thing.

"I am your friend Clark" She gave him a gentle smile. "But I'm also Lois's cousin. And right now you're in the wrong. All you had to do was get out six simple words!" Her voice rose on the last few words, frustrations lacing each one.

"What if she had said no?!"

"You can see through walls. You can burn down doors by simply looking at them. And yet you can't see that you Clark Kent are one complete oblivious moron!" Chloe said breaking the last few words with a prod to his shoulder. She looked like she was barely restraining from throttling him.

"What?" Clark questioned, batting at Chloe's hands. "Stop poking me woman!"

"I'm going easy on you; the way you're behaving you need more than pokes." Chloe poked him once again for good measure. "Punches would me more like it"

"Yeah, okay I deserve to be punched, I got that. But what's this about me being oblivious? Oblivious to what exactly?"

Ok, so now Chloe looked like she was going to murder him which wasn't a good thing but it wasn't like she could actually hurt him. He was Superman after all, he inwardly grinned cockily.

"After I help you, I'm going to spread rumours about you. And they won't be good" She shot him a glare before continuing. "Clark, I'm only going to say this once so think about it carefully. Very carefully"

Clark gulped.

"Have you noticed anything differently about Lois, say in the past couple of weeks?"

Clark's jaw snapped on the 'no' that was on the tip of his tongue, when he saw Chloe's warning glare directed at him. Anything different? No, he could honestly say he hadn't. Sure she had been dressing more provocatively too, but that was because of the summer – who wouldn't wear short skirts and open blouses when it was, 90 degrees out there? And she had seemed unusually made when he had brought Chloe, along to the coffee invitation from Lois. Incidentally the very next day she had announced that she was dating Jean – Claude. Also she had been looking rather strangely at him lately, sort of like . . . sort of like –

"Holy shit"

"Yeah, that's what I thought" She patted his back. "Well I'm off to spread those rumours"

He quickly grabbed her hand, before she walked away. "You knew – you knew all this time!" Chloe nodded in affirmation, with a duh! sense about her. "And did it ever occur to you to tell me?"

"Not really. It was entertaining watching you and Lois. Her getting more frustrated and you acting more like a dork." She dodged Clark's light shove before continuing. "The real kicker was when you took me along to your date with Lois."

"How was I supposes to know? She invited me to coffee!"

"In one of Metropolis's most romantic spots"

"Oh" Clark slumped on his desk, his arms covering his head, he groaned. "What do I do now?"

Chloe gave him a wink and sashayed off. "You go get her" she called behind her shoulder.

Lois stared at the toilet paper that rolled from her chair and around the corner, presumably to the elevator. She continued staring.

What the hell.

She had only been gone for a few minutes, to get a soda from the vending machine down the corridor, before finishing her article. And now there was toilet paper leading God knows where. Curious, she picked up the first bit and her eyes widened at the comment wrote in a sharpie.

You know me, so don't bring your knife. Yeah I know it's hidden in your second drawer behind your Superman toys. Real cute.

. . .

No, really, you actually do know me, so don't bring it.

Like, she was going to listen to someone who wrote on toilet paper. And was apparently a stalker. She continued reading as she opened her second drawer.

I know you're already reaching for it so just don't start stabbing me with it when you do find me.

She was so going to call 911 after she had found this sick bastard and 'stabbed' him. She carefully put the knife down the side of her shoe, cautious not to nick her leg. She picked up the toilet paper, and bunched it in her hands as she followed the trail. She stopped at – where she had correctly assumed – the elevator. She read the next note.

Go inside the elevator. Roof. Don't worry I'm not going to push you off the ledge.

Lois relaxed a little bit. Only her friends knew that she had, an unnatural fear; on falling to her death. But she kept the knife in her shoe, just in case. She stepped inside as the lift dinged and the doors opened. She found yet even more toilet paper inside, and even another instruction.

When you get to the roof, go to the Daily Planet . . . thingie –

So, this guy had a way with words.

And don't freak out.

Hah. Don't freak out, her ass. Going around throwing flowers in the air and proclaiming her love for fairies wasn't going to be her plan either.

She wondered why she was following freaking toilet paper on a Friday night, when she could have been home eating hot Chinese with Clark.

Oh yeah.

Clark.

This was all his fault. If he hadn't bailed on her, to 'get ready for a hot date' then she wouldn't be here, going to fall to her death. In her new Jimmy Choos too! When she died, she was going to come back and haunt him. And then she'd go haunt the hot date.

Stupid Clark.

That guy was clueless as. . . . a clueless stick. She never had been good with similes and especially never in life – death situations. Which was all Clark's fault.

Him and his stupid obliviousness.

She had tried all the tricks in the book. Dressing sultrily. He hadn't even batted and eyelash. Just spilled coffee over his stupid trousers every five minutes. She had done the whole licking - a – lollipop – but – pretending – not – to – do - anything charade. That hadn't worked any better. Every time she even got near him with that lollipop, he had disappeared, for at least five minutes or more. She hadn't been counting. So she had bitten the carrot (or however that phrase went) and had asked him out. On a date. To PHYTE. The romanticest spot in Metropolis.He had brought Chloe. To say that she had been frustrated would have been an understatement. Finally in one last salvage attempt, she had started dating Jean – Claude, to make Clark jealous.

Glad to see you've gone back into dating Lois. He seems like a straight up guy.

All Clark Kent's damn fault.

18.

Jeez. Daily Planet sure had a lot of floors. She wondered what the different floors were for and why they even had this many floors. Maybe to have a fierce competition with the other sky scrapers dominating Metropolis, so they could win a trophy that was made of candy. And fudge.

She really needed to get some sleep.

24.

Well.

She dragged out her knife and clutched it, in her fists tightly, as she stepped out the elevator. She slowly walked a few tentative steps listening out for any noises. Nothing. Heart beating wildly, sweat pooling under her armpits, teeth gritted, she crept over to the Daily Planet . . . thingie. Apparently she wasn't so good with words herself.

Holy.

Shit.

Two huge black beanbags were lain right in front of what seemed to be a plasma screen television. Next to the beanbags were the familiar red and white boxes from her favourite Chinese restaurant. But surrounding were hundreds of lighted candles, all shapes and sizes. A soft glow encircled this bizarre scene.

Lois couldn't move. It was like she was being weighed down by lead. Her legs felt dead weight. Her arms hung limply – the knife on the ground forgotten. She simply couldn't get her head around it. Candles. Lots of candles. And beanbags! Her favourite furniture. She had a dozen at home sprawled all over the places. Actually, they did –

"So wanna watch Fight club with Chinese?" Clark stepped out the shadows, causally dressed in a pair of Levis and a white T-shirt. "And uh I like you. I mean – I like like you"

Lois smiled.

She walked over to the bean bag and flopped onto one of them as Clark inserted the DVD into the player. He handed her a carton of fried rice before grabbing his own and sitting beside her. They both settled back comfortably, as the rolling credits came on for Fight club. And if either of them noticed the other sneaking glances, they didn't mention it. Just grinned, and took another bite out of that delicious Kung Po Chicken.

"You do realize that you seduced with me toilet paper?"

"Yeah well. You dated a French – Canadian!"

"He was hot"

"You're dumping that whore bag tomorrow"

"You said whore bag!"