Started and Finsihed: September 17, 2002
Last Episode Seen Before Writing: Tempest
Disclaimer: Awwww, look at the cute little babies! No, they aren't mine.
Splinters And Broken Hinges
Author's Note: This is a Baby!Clark and Baby!Pete fic. Well, you'll understand when you read. Thanks muchos to Sully Vann/Lauren for the quick beta!
"Race you to the old shed," Pete said in a competitive voice, daring his friend to take up the challenge.
Clark looked around the playground warily. "But it's all the way by the back fence."
Pete laughed. "Exactly. The teachers can't see us there."
Clark looked around himself again. It wasn't the teachers that bothered him. He had always been taught not to compete, lest his powers get out of his control. Now Pete not only wanted to race, but wanted to race to the far corner of the playground. Clark wasn't sure if he could control his speed without making it obvious.
"Don't be such a wimp," Pete said, shooting Clark a dirty look.
Without a word Clark took off, his small legs pumping. He made sure to stay the same distance in front of Pete. By the time they got to the old tool shed Pete was breathing hard.
"How…*gasp*…can…*gasp*…you run…*gasp*…so far…*gasp*…and not be…*gasp*…out of breath?" Pete asked, trying to catch his breath.
Clark ran his hand over his forehead, wiping away imaginary sweat. "I help my dad on the farm?" Clark asked, wondering if it was a corny excuse.
Pete just shook his head in disbelief.
"Well, lookie here. If it isn't the puny little first graders. Having a hard time breathing, Ross?" a voice called from behind Pete.
Pete spun, his eyes flaring. "Leave us alone, Trevor!"
"Leave us alone, Trevor," one of Trevor's friends mocked.
Pete unconsciously moved until he was standing in front of Clark. "What do you want?"
"I just want to be your friend," Trevor said, stepping closer to Pete.
Pete straightened his back, gaining him a half an inch of height. "Go away."
"Pete," Clark hissed from behind his friend. "He's in fourth grade. He can kill y-us."
"I've got it, Clark," Pete said, squaring his shoulders.
"Oh, look. Ross is standing up for Kent. How sweet," Trevor said, moving even closer. His two buddies stood slightly behind him, waiting for his command.
"Shut up, Trevor. Quit being such a jerk!" Pete said, his eyes shooting daggers.
"I'll show you to call me a jerk," Trevor raged, raising his fist.
Clark's hand shot out like a lightning bolt from behind Pete, catching Trevor's fist.
"Owww," Trevor complained, as his fist was squeezed in Clark's hand.
"Don't hit Pete," Clark said indignantly.
"I'll kill you both if you don't let me go," Trevor said, the fear in his eyes betraying the toughness of his voice.
Clark glared at Trevor, before letting go of his fist to grip Trevor's shirt. Without a word he hurled Trevor through the wooden door of the shed.
"We're out of here man," one of Trevor's buddies said, turning to run.
"Yeah, you're on your own," the other agreed, before racing off.
Pete's jaw dropped as he walked to the shed door. "Clark, how did you do that?"
Clark blushed and searched for an excuse of how a six-year-old could push a nine-year-old through a door, shattering it in the process. "Uh, adrenaline?"
"Adrena-huh?" Pete asked, reaching down to pick up a piece of wood. "You made this door into firewood."
Clark glanced around nervously. "Well, uh- I- He was going to hurt y-us."
Pete reached over to touch one of the hinges. The rusty hinge was now in two parts and twisted beyond repair. "Wow," was all he could say.
"Uh, Pete. It's time to go inside," Clark said as the teacher blew the whistle.
Pete nodded, stood, and the two jogged back to join their classmates, leaving Trevor in the shed.