SUMMARY: I hate this name-mutilating thing, but here we go: a SCHLEAN fic (Sam X Chloe X Dean). The main philosophy of this story is some quality SMUT ^_^. Includes a sweet Chlarry kiss in chapter 7 and platonic Chlark so far; will contain platonic Chlollie and a Chlex flashback in future chapters. What can I say? It was about time everybody realized how gorgeous she is.

SET IN: Smallville season 8, ep.18: Eternal (Chloe ‚killed' Davis with Cryptonite, but he hasn't come back ... yet). Supernatural season 2, after ep. 19 (just before Sam died). Christmas time.

DEDICATED: to shadowglove ( u/827845/ ) whose awesome fanfiction introduced me to „the almighty Schlean" ^_^

NOTE: We write quotes like this: „" in the Czech Republic. I could write it the English way, but I don't want to. Take it as a trademark or something ^_~ Also, I don't use a beta. Flame me for grammatical mistakes and typos, please! No seriously, I would love some critique on that!

DISCLAIMER: Don't own (boohoo).

A Little Dead But Still ‚Cute Meet'

The coroner gave the two FBI agents a once-over. Kids. They let anybody do this job nowadays.

„So, you're here for the mysterious deaths in Metropolis alleys."

The shorter one nodded. „Yep. Have you done any autopsy yet?"

„Sure, but that told me nothing. Not a single scratch on the outside and nothing on the inside. But I can give you something better." The coroner gave them one last disapproving look before he turned and limped to the wall of small iron doors. „They brought her in a couple of hours ago," he reached for one door, „I didn't even get to open her yet." He drew out a body of a young woman. „She had no ID, a Jane Doe so far. Was found in an alley, just like the others, but this time there might be a witness. A little boy was running around her and talking nonsense." He stepped aside to let the boys approach the body. He checked his watch. „Well, I've gotta deliver my last report upstairs, so you two take your time."

„Thank you," the tall one said in a business tone, but didn't get to tear his eyes from the body.

«´¨'•.¸¸.•'¨`»

„Quite, a shame, huh?" Dean commented, „She's like, a bit over twenty." He eyed her pretty figure and short blond hair, which made her look even more fragile. He considered her rather cute than sexy, but he'd still give her a 7 on his Deanometer.

Sam murmured something in response. She seemed very short, he guessed that even if she stood on her toes with her arms up, he would still be taller. Tiny. Her lips looked like they were made specifically for smiling (before they turned blue of course). There was something about her skin that made him want to touch it. It was too white, too... ethereal. I guess that's because she's DEAD, you perv.

Sam blinked and cleared his throat. „We should... Look for some signs of demon presence."

„What, you wanna sniff her for sulphur?" Dean quipped. „Alright. But then I'll look for any occultist signs on her body." He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, excepting his outrage of disgust any minute.

Sam's jaw made that angry little movement. There you go. „Do you always have to-"

Yet at that moment, the girl woke up.

She drew in a terrified breath, fighting for every molecule of oxygen, her chin raised and her neck arched. She had problems breathing clearly, making loud scary coughing sounds. Sam and Dean jumped back and reached for their guns. They winced at the look of her upper body squirming in pain and waited for her to stop choking.

«´¨'•.¸¸.•'¨`»

When Chloe got a grip on all her vegetative functions, she drew numb fingers to her chest and raised the white sheet a little, looking for autopsy scars. Relieved to find none, she finally looked around and found two FBI agents.

Hmm.

Two handsome FBI agents in cheap suits.

Hmm.

Two sexy FBI agents in cheap suits, who recovered from their shock surprisingly fast.

Mmm.

Two utterly edible FBI agents who seemed uncomfortable in those (cheap) suits they were supposed to wear everyday.

Mmm-hmm.

Two sex-impersonating but fake FBI agents.

Chloe found no coroner around, but that could have changed in seconds. She returned her eyes to assess the fake!feds once again. (As her eyes lit up with green fire, Dean told himself that 7 was way too low.) She needed to decide whether to trust them with her life or not. They stayed like that for a while, penetrating each other with their eyes. Chloe felt a pang of pain where her liver temperature had been taken, but luckilly, the wound had already closed. She still couldn't feel her feet, though.

Her hero-radar gave a little beep-beep.

She gulped in determination. Smiling at them would have looked pretty creepy at the moment, so she supressed the urge. She found her voice raspy as she said: „Hi guys. Get me out of here or I'll call the real FBI."

«´¨'•.¸¸.•'¨`»

For the first time in history, Dean's mouth opened with no snarky comment comming out. It just opened. Frozen, he watched the cute zombie girl as she asked where the coroner was; as she pointed to his depository and asked for „probably a plastic bag with her stuff"; as she sighed at their distrustful looks and summed it up in Tarzan-speech: „You- fake badges. Me- alive on an autopsy table. Authority –comming soon. What the hell are we still doing here?"

San and Dean exchanged a silent agreement before Sam pulled out a small bottle of holy water. „Your throat must ache," he said in low voice.

„Thank you," she gave him a pretty smile that looked quite creepy on her blue lips, but she obviously realized it in a second. She took deep gulps of holy water and returned the bottle with a satisfied sigh.

„Christo," both Winchesters said.

„What?" Now it was the dead girl who was confused.

„We'll do more tests later," Dean decided. „Sam, get her things and check the back door." I'll keep her at gunpoint.

„Great! Oh, another thing." The girl rearranged the sheet around her, embarassed about her nudity underneath. „One of you Herculeses is gonna have to carry me, because I can't move my legs."

«´¨'•.¸¸.•'¨`»

To her surprise, they didn't leave her in front of the building; they actually took her in their (classic and beautiful) car. After 'Mr. Eiffel' carried her like a feather and laid her on the backseat gently like a princess, she didn't believe they would hurt her anymore.

„What's your name?" Mr. Eiffel started with an easy question.

Oh, she really wanted the introduction to happen. She couldn't help herself from feeling comfortable aound them; her hero-radar purred like a cat. But she had a protocol to stick to. 'Don't give your personal information to people that have seen you rise from the dead' and stuff.

„Maybe we should omit our names. You know, so that I can't tell anybody who faked their badges and you can't tell who..."

„Survived her own death?" offered Mr. Eiffel. „How did you do that, by the way?"

„I don't know."

Mr. Eiffel frowned, knowing a lie when he saw one. (He still looked handsome, though.) „You seemed quite used to it," he commented.

„What? No." She had to admit there was no heart in her lying that day.

The other fake!fed pulled over, turned in his seat and handed her something. „Touch this."

She looked at the silver flask and back at the driver. „Why." Her tone was a little too sarcastic to make it a question.

„Please," the driver said, obviously uncomfortable with the word.

„What's that engraving," she observed a suspicious ornament on the flask. „You guys don't wanna bind me with some magic-seal-thingy, do you."

Both men's eyes widened, but then Mr. Eiffel smiled and there was sincerity in it. „No, don't worry, it's a protection-thingy."

„Oh." Confirmation: They are into occultism! „Well I hope there's some good whiskey in it," Chloe took the flask, sniffed at the alcohol and returned it with her nose scrunched. „Now, could you keep going down this street and turn right after two blocks? That's where my car is parked."

The driver shook his head at her directness, but did as she said.

„How come you didn't have any ID on you?" Mr. Eiffel remembered.

Oops. „Um, I was robbed."

„So, you were killed by a robber?" Mr. Eiffel gave her that look again. She'd better give him something true now.

„No. I was killed by something... different." She was glad they were here, actually, because she was pretty sure it was NOT a metahuman.

„What did it look like?"

„I could see through it." She saw it kill the boy. She had been stalking it for a couple of days while her friends thought she was enjoying Metropolis Christmas shopping. „It was cold, but not freezing. I think ... I think it didn't have a face." She hugged her shoulders at the memory, but a second later, she was giving them her brave-Chloe look. „Ah, stop here, please."

She still had only a white sheet around her, with a plastic bag clutched to her stomach. „Good luck with the freak, boys," she didn't need to confirm that they were after the monster. She opened the door and stepped out.

„Wait!" The driver turned in his seat again. „Do you have any idea why you came back...?" To life, he meant.

„No. I'm sorry," she told him firmly, but politely.

The driver winced at her lie, but then another thing occured to him. „How did you know we weren't real feds?"

„Oh, that was easy," Chloe gave them her megawatt smile. „Why would you work your asses off as feds when you could be male underwear models instead? Unless you had a freelance mission like hunting monsters and saving people." With that, she closed the door, scurried to her Beetle, found a key in her plastic bag, turned around and waved to their stunned faces before stepping in the car.

«´¨'•.¸¸.•'¨`»

„Male underwear models, huh?" Dean said.

Sam gulped. „Never though of it. Did you?"