"Clark, I know you're stronger than this. Come on. Push me up a little further." Chloe was already on his back with her legs wrapped around his wait. She'd insisted on scaling Mt. Kent in order to get a view of the penguin show. Apparently Chloe's definition of boundaries varied. It wasn't okay for him to take her hand and whisk her away at superspeed to the zoo. However, it was just fine for her to grab onto him like a jungle gym.
He was very confused.
Tightening his grip on her squirming legs enough to make sure she didn't slip but not tight enough to bruise her, he replied. "Well how much further up do you want to go here? Six, three is all I've got."
"Just a second," Chloe mumbled, pulling her right leg back and settling it in the crook of his elbow. With agility so flawless Clark would have believed that she was a monkey, she'd managed to maneuver herself to a sitting position on top of his shoulders. She wobbled a bit up there, almost falling before catching his hair and yanking herself into a steady balance.
"Ouch!" He complained, more out of pretense then anything else. Any other guy probably wouldn't appreciate having a hundred pounds of best friend yanking on his hair. In his case, of course, the elephant four cages down could yank on his locks all day long and they wouldn't budge, but it always paid to be cautious, to act normal, especially since Chloe was making such a sideshow out of them.
"Oh it didn't hurt, you big baby," She answered, her voice airy. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn she was flirting with him. Of course, he did know better. She'd just had a meltdown about her love of penguins not ten minutes ago, not to mention the fact that Chloe really wasn't a flirter. However, since everyone in Denver was just assuming they were a normal couple, Chloe had apparently decided to play it up.
He played along as well. "It did to hurt! How would you like it if I pulled your hair?"
"And until about last year, my hair wasn't long enough to yank. If you're going to keep it shaggy, you're going to run into this problem. It's almost like a mullet or something back here. Don't you ever trim it?"
Clark rolled his eyes. Now she wanted to take this time to engage in the perfectly banal argument about his hair. Personally, he liked it long, but his mom and Chloe always complained about it. As far as his mom was concerned, he knew that it was the same maternal neatness that caused her to try cleaning his cheeks with a wet rag every time he came in from the fields. In Chloe's case, he actually suspected that it was all about her protesting too much. When she'd barged in on him in Metropolis during his illicit summer, he'd been wearing his hair so long that it curled down to his shoulders. The second he'd gotten off the elevator, he'd heard her heart speed up. It could have been chocked up to nervousness, but Chloe had never been skittish around him. In fact even now in their relationship it almost felt like she was the one with the superpowers. Besides, one of his other superior senses had told him quite clearly she'd been aroused.
So unruly dark hair turned her on, which in Chloe-logic meant she had to make fun of it. So be it. Complaining!Chloe was better than Weepy!Chloe.
"I do trim it, once every three months." That trick took a lot of mirrors, special angles, and strategically aimed heat vision too. She'd never seen it, but it was quite the show. It shouldn't have to be such a problem, but stupid Earth scissors sucked.
"Actually, that's not too bad. It still always looks like a mess."
"And surprisingly mucking out stalls is messy business." He shifted his weight from his right to his left foot. Chloe slipped a little on his shoulders and he could feel the denim of her jeans rub against him. He tried very hard not to think about exactly which part of Chloe was pressed against him. It would be in bad taste to set the penguins on fire.
"So you say." She shifted again and Clark started thinking about baseball. "Anyway," she said, bending over to peer down at his face. "What do you think of the little guys?"
Clark stared past her at the little collection of fake glaciers and clear ponds in front of them. On the snowy bank, three birds, identically attired in black and white penguin suits, were lying on their stomachs. A fourth bird was launching itself out of the water and was suspended in mid-air, little wings flapping ineffectually as it steadied itself for a landing. They were very cute.
Not that he could say that to her because he was a manly kind of guy and he didn't admit cuteness in public, although sometimes with his mom he'd call some of the tricks Shelby could do adorable. However, Chloe and Lois could never be allowed to know that or he'd never live it down.
He settled for a standard guy answer. "They're pretty cool, I guess."
"You guess!" Chloe exclaimed, flinging out her arms and upsetting her balance enough that she had to cling tightly to his neck with her thighs. "They're adorable. Look at the way the little guy just slid right back into the water on his belly. Isn't it the cutest thing ever?"
"Who are you and what have you done with my Chloe?"
"What do you mean?"
"You sound just like Lana did when she used to talk about Donatello. The Chloe Sullivan I know doesn't gush."
"I can surprise you. Though for the record, if Lois asked, this never happened. I just happen to have a soft spot for penguins. I have a stuffed penguin collection in my closet from when I was younger and everything."
"Huh." was Clark's only reply. Stuffed animals were a girl thing. The only stuffed animal he'd had growing up was an old teddy bear of his father's that had been stored in the attic. It hadn't lasted long. He'd given it one extra hard squeeze after a nightmare when he was six and the stuffing had just exploded out of him. After that, his parents had figured him and defenseless fluffy things weren't compatible.
"You can drop me now." Chloe added, interrupting his thoughts.
"No, it's fine. It's not like your heavy or anything."
"Gee, thanks." She chuckled a little. "How about I'd like to be down now?"
"All you had to do was ask, but what about the penguins?"
"I've gotten a pretty good look and we need to get going or we'll be late to our next engagement." Translation: you should run us to L.A. now.
"Fine," he said, putting his arms behind his head and wrapping them around Chloe's waist. He lifted her up off his shoulders and over his head and set her down in front of him.
She glared up and whispered, "Nice way to be inconspicuous."
He leaned down and spoke quietly in her ear. "It's not like I don't look like I could pick you up like that anyway." He dropped his voice lower as he said it and she flushed. "Are we done with the penguins now?"
"Just as long as you remember how much I love penguins we're good to go, but we might want to move out of a crowd. 'Now you see me, now you don't' isn't such a good trick to pull in front of a mob."
He nodded. "Agreed." He held out her hand to her to take and felt his heart stop for a few seconds, afraid that she was still too busy worrying about Jimmy Olsen to risk touching him. She hesitated and then took his hand, letting him lead her out of the zoo and into a nearby grove of trees that would be safe for superspeeding.
"Still, never say I didn't show you a good time." She said, grinning up at him.
"Yeah, falling on my butt is a memory I'll cherish forever."
"Admit it. You liked the penguins."
"You know," he said, as he ducked down under a low-hanging tree branch, "Chilly Willy used to be my favorite cartoon when I was little."
"See I told you no one can resist their charms."
"Well, I was really more in love with the South Pole I think. I always sort of liked snow. My mom has this story about how excited I was when it first snowed the winter I came. She said I ran right out the front door in just my pajamas and sat right down in it. It was probably a good thing I didn't have my speed back then or she never would have been able to get a coat on me, not that I needed it."
Chloe nodded. "I wish the Fortress were in the South Pole. I mean, it's still far too freezing in that stupid thing, but if you had a few cute penguins wandering around, it would make it better."
"Gee please allow me to get an Arctic pet to entertain you with. Would you like a polar bear perhaps?"
"I don't want to be eaten. Hey maybe you could get a seal or something."
Clark shook his head and wrapped his left arm around her. It was easier running another person if he had them tight in his grasp. He and Chloe had tried it just once with him holding just a hand and it had left her with about five times worse whiplash than the other way. "I think we're ready for L.A. because this pet conversation is going nowhere."
Chloe bit her lip and winked at him. "Maybe a wolf, something White Fangy since Shelby's no more for the snow than I am."
"I'm not hearing this anymore."
"I'm just saying or maybe a huskie if you get one of those sleds…"
The best part about having superspeed was the shift in perception that came with it. The world was always quiet when it moved that slowly and it was one of the few ways he knew of to shut Chloe up. He loved the girl, he really did, but he'd never known anyone who could talk as much as she did. It might bother him more if he didn't find it cute too.
Los Angeles, California ---- 11:15 PM (Pacific Standard Time)
"You look kind of disappointed." Chloe commented as he frowned down at the star in front of him.
He shoved his hands into his jacket's pockets and shuffled over to the next star. It belonged to Jack Benny, whoever the Hell that was. "It's not that. It's just I thought that Hollywood would be glitzier."
"And cleaner," Chloe added stepping around a pile of something lying in the crease between the sidewalk and a tourist shop wall. Clark really hoped it was just the remains of a half-eaten hamburger or some other food product. It was disturbingly furry. "I felt the same way."
"Felt?"
"Yeah. Lois and the general have been stationed everywhere you know. They had a year in a base in Southern Californian and the summer after sophomore year I took a trip out here."
"Really? What about your column?"
"You can send in articles over the internet now." She sighed, "I'm really sorry about that."
He shrugged. "I'm over that by now. I think you've definitely earned a second chance. If not for you and your willingness to freeze to death, Fine would have killed me and then everybody else would be speaking Kryptonian right now."
"Which, ironically enough, you don't speak." She pointed out, stepping nimbly over Don Knots's star.
"I could if I wanted to. It's all sort of back here somewhere," he said gesturing to his head.
"You know that shouldn't even be possible. You can't learn the pragmatics of language from an implant. It's why you can't learn a foreign language by watching TV. Trust me, I've been watching telenovelas for years and I can barely order a taco."
"'Pragmatics?'" He asked, planting a foot down on John Ritter's square.
"I'm taking psych this semester at Metropolis College. I'm just saying is all. You shouldn't be conversant in speaking Kryptonian. Makes no sense."
"I can shoot fire out of my eyes. We left making sense about thirty seven exits back. Besides, technically it's not like I never heard it. I was just really little the last time anyone spoke it to me. So…" he trailed off shrugging his shoulders.
She nodded. "Can you curse in it?"
He furrowed his brow for a second, trying to shift through everything the Fortress and the caves had downloaded him with so far. Surprisingly a few choice phrases popped up. It must have been Raya's idea. Dedicated lab assistant or not, she'd only been in her mid-twenties. Maybe she figured he'd have wanted the more bawdy side of his heritage too. He really couldn't see Lara or Jor-El doing it. His mom and dad had washed his mouth out with soap until he'd hit his last growth spurt and there was still the dreaded swear jar above the Kent fridge.
"Yeah. I could if I wanted to, but it's sort of like if you cursed in Gaelic. I mean, I'd know you weren't saying anything polite, but I wouldn't know exactly what it was."
"Oh, trust me, you can always tell by the tone."
"So you're saying…"
"There really is one universal phrase and it's not 'I come in peace' or whatever." She grinned up at him as they crossed the street and headed toward Grauman's. "Do you wanna share the wealth?"
"I am not teaching you to curse in Kryptonian."
"Why not?"
"Because it's wrong."
"You sound like your dad."
"Besides, you'll start using it around me and then you'll slip up and use it at the Planet and then what will you do when someone asks you what the Hell you're speaking."
"I dunno. I can always say it's from some random country. If I heard a little of it, I could even come up with a compatible language. I mean, it might sound Slavic or it could be very Asian. Five bucks says it guttural and Germanic." Just to spite her he rattled off some rapid fire Kryptonian. "Huh. Sounds kind of like Romanian."
"And how would you even know what Romanian sounds like?"
"Latin in catholic prep schools comes with the fun of romance introductory vocab, just a little sampler of French, Spanish, Romanian, and Italian to see the differences."
"Smallville High is public." He added, puzzled, as they made their way to the farthest corner of the theater's pavilion. They were staring down at the cemented foot and handprints of people who had been dead since the 1960s, but they were working their way to the more modern day stars.
"I had this whole other life before I got dragged out to the boonies."
"Catholic school, huh? So were there kilts. Please tell me there were kilts."
"No, there was a freaking pinafore, which we will never speak of again."
His rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Is there a picture?"
She looked up at him and he definitely had that vertigo sensation where he thought of her as the one with the superpowers, specifically his ability to fry people where they stood. "My dad has a few and they will never see the light of day as long as you live."
"That's a serious threat."
"I know."
"Still a Wittman's sampler of Romance languages when you were like twelve doesn't exactly prep you for hearing Romanian."
"Well there is that one Buffy episode."
"That explains a lot." He frowned. "So Romanian, huh?"
She shrugged, "More or less, some of whatever you said still came out a bit guttural so you owe me five bucks."
"Right. You're the one who still owes me a birthday present from last year."
"Well you're the one who's racked up more I.O.U.'s than an inveterate gambler." She shook her head and looked down at the footprints in front of her. "Ooh, Cary Grant. Have you ever seen 'His Girl Friday?' It's brilliant."
"Who?"
She rolled her eyes. "Cary Grant: Arsenic and Old Lace, Notorious, The Bishop's Wife." Off his blank look, she added, "Philistine."
"Sorry to like movies from this century."
"With nothing but explosions and car chases." She tsked to herself. "Men. I tell you, Jimmy's mostly the same way."
Great, Olsen again. Still, she'd always let him rant on about Lana so now he had to put up with hearing about Jimmy every five seconds. It was sort of fair, in a twisted evil revenge scenario way. "So, what's different about Jimmy?"
"He'll go with me to The Talon art house flicks. He likes to look at how directors use the camera even if it's moving pictures he appreciates artistic work."
"What's so hard? You turn it on, point, and shoot."
"As if the Academy would give out those shiny little gold statues for a job a trained monkey could do. Come on, Clark. It's not all about movies starring Jackie Chan and The Rock."
"Whatever." He said, looking at the footprints in front of him. "Hey, Marilyn Monroe. Cool."
"Now you've heard of someone," Chloe said hopping into the center of the square.
"What are you doing?"
"Everyone does this. You compare your feet and hands to famous people. I bet everyone compares themselves to Marilyn."
"You mean every girl."
"That's not very forward thinking of you, Clark. I bet there are a few guys that come here to compare too. I mean, West Hollywood is not that far down the road."
"What Hollywood?"
She shook her head and laughed. "How can anyone live so close to the Big Apricot and be so naïve is beyond me. Never mind. The answer would just blow your red state-raised mind."
"Uh-huh." He said leaning over to watch her as she positioned her feet over Marilyn's prints. "Hey, they fit pretty well. I mean especially considering you're wearing sneakers and not high heels."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Well I have small feet. They go with the whole being vertically challenged bit." She stepped back and pointed at a mystery square a few blocks over. "Your turn."
"Aw, Chlo, this is stupid."
"Now way, party-pooper. It was your idea to come to Hollywood in the first place and this is the big tradition. It's your turn." She got behind him, planted both hands on his shoulders and started pushing him forward. To be fair, she'd have better luck pushing on the Great Pyramids or Mount Rushmore. On the other hand, she had him totally whipped and could get him to do anything she asked, no matter how ridiculous. A night spent playing Santa definitely came to mind.
He rolled his eyes and shuffled forward to the square, knowing full well that Chloe wouldn't give up on this until he did it.
"So," she said as she walked behind him, still pushing. "You never told me what you said."
"Come again."
"The Kryptonian you rattled off. Dirty limerick?"
"Yeah like that's going to happen."
"What was it then?"
He frowned and concentrated for a second on the information in his head. He still really had no idea how any of the Kryptonian artifacts worked. It was usually enough that they did more or less what they were intended to do. One day, he really needed to sit down and learn how to use the crystals at the Fortress. Finally, the lines he recited came back to him and he did the translation to himself. "It's a nursery rhyme."
"Seriously?" He could feel her right eyebrow rise in disdain. "You could have said anything and that's what you chose?"
He shrugged and yet she still managed to keep her palms firmly planted on his back. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. It's something about a lepore which is sort of like a rabbit if, you know, they had eight ears and thicker fur."
"Cool, I mean about the not-quite-bunny. The nursery rhyme from a twenty year old guy is still pretty lame." She said, finally coming to a halt behind him. "This one."
He looked down, read the name, and then looked back up at her after she'd come to stand beside him. "George Reeves. Any reason why this one?"
"The footprints are huge. I figured you had a small chance. Anybody you're sharing prints with would have had to have been freakishly tall."
"Gee thanks," he said, shuffling into the prints, which actually matched up with his really well. "Hey, it fits."
"Told you I have an eye for these things." She said, extending her hand to him.
"We're running back to Metropolis already?"
"No, doofus, we have fifteen minutes. There are some shops up the way I want to show you."
He frowned. He didn't trust the look in Chloe's eyes. It was the same look she had on her face when she convinced him and Pete in high school to break into someone's house in the search for truth, justice, and meteor freaks. "What kind of store?"
Clark Kent had never been more uncomfortable in his life and he'd spent time in an alien desert dimension. Chloe, on the other hand, looked like she was going to die of mirth right there. She was grinning a Cheshire cat grin and bouncing up and down with energy.
She turned back to him and impossibly the size of her grin doubled. "What do you think?"
"I think my mom is going to kill me."
"Why?" She asked sweetly, putting on a very good naïve act.
"Why?" He squeaked, holding up a "water pipe." "Chlo, do you have any idea what this is?"
"Well I have been in college for a year and a half, and I have made the rounds through a few frat parties. I mean, you can't be alone on a Saturday night all the time."
It was just a small dose of self-deprecating humor but Clark knew it wasn't true. After he and Lana had broken up and before the advent of Jimmy "The Infuriator" Olsen, he and she had spent every Friday and Saturday night together hanging out, and at least 75 of that time hadn't included meteor mutants or news stories. "I never thought of you as the frat type."
"I'm more the coffee shop and improv shows kind of girl, but I got bored the first few weeks. Besides, I love you and Lana both but watching you two mack or in your case avoid macking was not the highlight of my social calendar."
"Sorry."
She shrugged her shoulders and picked up a bright blue bong, made of blown glass that swirled in alternating patterns of cerulean and cobalt. "Heh, everyone gets sexiled once in a while. I mean, not literally of course, but it was a pretty good deal. At least I can stand you. I know tons of girl's whose roommates' significant others were just annoying mooches."
"I'm glad you can tolerate me so well."
"The wellest. I mean, here I am after the break up showing you a great time."
Clark rolled his eyes. Maybe it had been a little harder on Chloe than he thought having him always in the dorm for Lana those first few months. Of course, she knew better than anyone that nothing of any consequence had happened when he was over. Still, if Jimmy always showed up at the loft to make out with Chloe, he wouldn't want to be around either, unless it was to melt the other guy's sneakers. That would be fun.
"So," he said, picking up a tie-dye colored "water pipe" and eyeing it up and down, "how exactly did you know what kind of shops were here?"
"Lois and I were adventurous that summer. She had made a habit of sneaking out to L.A. once a month when the general was inspecting a base up near San Fran. She found all these neat shops and dragged me along for an education."
"Education?" Clark asked, his voice cracking just a little.
"Sure. Lois isn't just a lush you know. She's got all kinds of experience."
"Oh, I don't doubt that."
"It was nothing that bad. We had a few special brownies. Giggled at some of the sillier 'entertainment' items. It was nothing for Girls Gone Wild or Cops."
"Entertainment?"
"Did a parrot just fly in here? Of course entertainment." She set down the bong and dragged him over to another corner of the store where there were all kinds of boots. Well they weren't exactly the good old sturdy work boots he wore or the snow boots his mom had for blizzards. These boots were all made of shiny pleather for one thing. For another, most of them had heels so high a porn star probably couldn't walk in them, and they came up to the mid-thigh. His mom was going to have to wash his eyes out just for looking at them.
And then she was going to have to wash his brain out for thinking about what he'd do to Chloe while she wore them.
She held up one of the items in question---a crimson boot that laced up all the way to above the knee. "See, entertainment. I mean people actually come in here and buy these things. I told you how West Hollywood isn't too far from here, but I bet tourists buy them too and couples just looking to spice things up you know?"
Yes he did know. Maybe Chloe was secretly a sadist, or maybe she just wanted him to set something on fire before the night was over. "Uh yeah."
"Look at this thing." She said, practically pushing it into his face as if he didn't have the best vision on the planet. "It must have six inch heels. How could you even stand up in it?"
Clark was pretty sure standing up was not what someone did in those things. "I don't know, maybe when you try them out with Jimmy you'll let me know." Where had that come from?
She froze and the smile fell off her face. "Excuse me."
Right then would be the sensible time to shut the Hell up or alternately to beg Chloe for forgiveness. However, whatever stupid impulse had high-jacked his brain just kept talking. "I mean, after tonight you're going to have some lost time to make up for. He'll probably want some assurance that you didn't do anything with the back-up date. It's obvious he doesn't like me and trusts you even less around me. Why not bring back something to spice up the sex? Whip cream might be a little passé by now." Oh God, he did not just say that. She was going to eviscerate him, and he'd earned it.
When she spoke, her tone was clipped but her words came quickly, like they always did when she fought off tears. "You asshole. You jealous, self-absorbed jerk. I've been going out with Jimmy for months and you pick now when we're supposed to be having fun together to lay all this on me. If you didn't like him or me dating him, don't you think you could have brought it up any other way instead of humiliating me in front of half the store? And do you know how completely unfair it is for you to get snippy now after the six years of Lana Lang worship that I sat through? Waiting for…nevermind," She added, shaking her head. "I don't have to take this."
"Chlo, look I didn't mean it."
"And considering how far we are from Smallville and little red rocks I really buy that." She flung the boot down on the ground. The cashier turned toward them and started yelling something about calming down, but Chloe glared back at him and he shut up fast. Chloe turned and started stalking out the door.
He grabbed her right elbow and held it still. "Wait."
"Let go."
"No. Think about it. Where are you going to go? It's not like you can walk back to Metropolis."
"I'll get a hotel room and have Lois and Oliver come get me in the morning. Knowing a guy with his own jet has to come in handy for something. Now let go of me or I swear I'll pull my arm out of the socket." She yanked against him hard and he dropped her instantly. If she pulled hard enough, her arm wouldn't just dislocate, it would pop all the way off.
"Come on."
"Good night, Clark." Chloe said, slamming the door to the store behind her so hard that the glass shook.
He started to rush after her, struggling hard to keep to human speed, when the clerk's voice called out behind him. "Hey! She scuffed the boot. That means you bought them. That'll be ninety bucks."
Clark spun around and hurried to the register, yanking out a wad of bills from his wallet, infinitely grateful that the last thing he'd done before taking off for Metropolis had been to go to the ATM. He wouldn't have any spending money for the next month, but he'd do anything to get out of the store and to Chloe.
The clerk took the rumpled pile of cash and gestured to the pair of boots, which he'd collected and put in a box. "Might as well keep them. I can't sell them to anyone else and when she gets out of her snit, they'll really make for a lot of fun." He winked and it made Clark queasy or at least the way his stomach always did around too much Kryptonite.
He grabbed the boots and turned away from the noxious little man. "We're not really together. It's all a big misunderstanding, you see---"
And then he heard a scream so loud that even the clerk's head jerked up at the sound. It was Chloe. Still clutching the box and not giving a damn what the clerk saw, Clark sped out the door.
He found Chloe in the alleyway behind the store, struggling against the grip of a man pinning her and trying very hard not to spear herself on the knife held against her throat.
It was all a non-event. Clark saw the light glinting of the blade one instant and the next, he'd thrown the thug against the fall wall of the alley, delighting in the sound of bone crunching against brick. The guy was still breathing. He'd live, but recovery was going to be a bitch.
Chloe was still trembling and it took a few seconds before her brain processed what he'd done. To be honest, it took him a few seconds to process it too. He'd always moved fast but this time he'd been so quick that even his altered perception hadn't caught up with him. He'd just seen and acted.
Finally, Chloe blinked up at him. "Clark?"
He nodded, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she answered, her voice shaking and her eyes glimmering with welling tears. "He managed to put a hole in the collar of my coat."
"Well you should consider yourself lucky. I told you not to go out here alone."
"You also told me to buy a pair of fuck-me boots for my boyfriend. I don't listen to everything you say." She raised her chin to him and glared. Unfortunately as a Smallville alum, she recovered from trauma quickly. A miraculous rescue used to earn him an honorary exemption from the dog house. Tonight he was lucky if she'd offer him a biscuit. Why couldn't she be more of the damseling type?
"Chloe…I…oh screw it." He said, hugging her closely to him and at the same time planting what was decidedly not a friendly kiss on her lips. In fact, it was far more salacious than the one she'd given him in the DP's basement six months ago. At first, she'd resisted, but after a few seconds, she was kissing back with a passion he'd never seen her match. Especially not with Jimmy.
After a few seconds, she broke off from him and gasped in a few huge breaths. She stared up at him, and he expected her to be angry or to try and (ill-advisedly) slap him. She wasn't and she didn't. Instead she tightened her arms around his waist. "You're an idiot."
"So I've been told."
"You're a moron."
"Heard that one too."
"You're living proof that there is no intelligent life out there in the universe."
"That's a new one," he said, chuckling.
She spoke again and this time her voice broke a little when she did. "Do you know how long I waited for you to figure things out? To finally get over the Pink Princess? Six years. That's a pretty long time to devote to anybody, and then I try to get over you with Jimmy. He's a nice guy. He one of the sweetest guys I've ever known outside of you and Pete and he loves me, maybe not quite as much as photography, but I'm not sure I love you more than journalism so I can't really fault him for that."
His ears perked up. "You love me?"
"Yes, you big dumb farmboy. I love you and now I'm going to have to what? Break Jimmy's heart because apparently jealousy is the only thing that gets you to admit your real feelings? You suck."
"I do." He said leaning down to kiss her again.
"You suck big time and now we're going to owe Jimmy a new camera to make up for all of this."
"Okay, once my debt clears at The Shrunken Head, we'll work on buying the nicest camera ever."
"It'll have to have night vision capabilities."
"Right."
"And telephoto lenses."
"Of course."
"And a Zedmore shutter process."
"You made that one up."
She sniffled and looked up at him. "How'd you know about that last one?"
"We just watched Ghostbusters last night." He gave her hug, holding her tightly against him and ran his hand over her shoulders and back just to make sure nothing had been pierced. He could just x-ray her, but they weren't quite at that point in their relationship yet. "You scared me," he murmured into her hair.
"You pissed me off."
"Well I'll never do that again."
"Oh, you'll do it again, Clark. It's one of your abilities." She gave him a small smile and broke off the embrace. He was about to protest when she wrapped an arm around his waist and started pulling him out of the alleyway. "My watch says we have three minutes left. Let's say you use your MacGyver skills and sneak us into the Kodak Theater."
"Why?"
"Haven't you ever wanted to see where the Oscars take place? Come on, Clark, let's do the Hollywood thing right: Grauman's Chinese, Walk of Fame, averted mugging, and a red carpet bash."
"Minus the finery." He added, crossing the street with her.
"I've never been a fancy kind of girl."
It took them a few seconds to speed into the theater. The only hindrance had been finding a shady spot to duck into so it wouldn't look like two people had just teleported in the middle of the sidewalk. The theater was vast and overwhelming. He could see the rows of upper level balconies and the hundreds of red velvet seats lining the bottom floor. He'd managed to turn on the lights in the middle of his rush indoors and now the huge crystal chandeliers shone down on them. The shafts of light danced over Chloe hair, making it an even deeper gold than it usually was.
"It's amazing." She said, excitement coloring her tone.
"Yeah."
"Now that's the eloquence I've been looking for." Chloe added, smirking up at him. Just then her watch beeped out. "Midnight for the fourth time."
"You know what people do at midnight on New Year's Eve, don't you?"
She stood up on her tip toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I sure do." Then she kissed him.
Clark leaned forward and let himself enjoy it. Chloe always had been a forward kind of girl. If she wanted to do the kissing (or at least initiate it) on New Year's, he'd let her. After an intense few minutes, he let her break off for breath and smiled down at her.
"Happy New Year, Clark."
"Fericit varstia niou, Chloe."
Epilogue
Metropolis, Kansas ----- January 3, 2007
"Clark!" Mr. Sullivan exclaimed, shaking the younger man's hand enthusiastically. "It's great to see you."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Chloe has been so happy since you got back from the New Year's Eve party at the museum. You're all she's talked about. I mean, she talked about you tons before, but now she's so very smitten. It's cute."
"Um, thanks."
Mr. Sullivan's grip tightened and for the sake of his pride, Clark pretended to wince. "It's a heck of a lot cuter now than when you were in high school. This reciprocation thing is great. Please keep it up for the sake of my ulcers." He released his hand entirely and Clark made a show of shaking out his right hand.
"Sure, Mr. Sullivan."
"And Clark?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for pretending to be intimidated by me."
"No problem." He added, shifting his package from his left arm to his right arm. It's not that the present was heavy. It's just that it was an awkward shape and carrying it was cumbersome. "Is she upstairs?"
Mr. Sullivan nodded. "She is and you two will be so excited to be spending the remainder of your date here in our living room where I can see everything."
"Yes sir." Clark replied, starting up the stairs to retrieve Chloe.
"Oh by the way, 'It's a Wonderful Life' came on and I taped it for you. It's right on after the episode where Elizabeth Montgomery and some guy are crashed astronauts who turn out to be Adam and Eve."
Clark grinned down at him. "Great. I like both of those."
"Figured you would." Mr. Sullivan called back up as Clark rounded the top of the stairs and headed toward Chloe's room. He only had to knock twice before she actually showed up. "Took you long enough."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "We don't all have superspeed modes. So, what'd you bring me?"
He handed her the long white cardboard box and shifted nervously from foot to foot as she opened it. "Well you see The Shrunken Head has a 'you break it you bought it' clause, and it's not like I'm going to get any use out of them so…"
Chloe opened the box and held up one of the pleather boots. "Oh that's a shame because red is so your color. You know I can't exactly wear these tonight or my father will beat you to death with a shovel and then have a heart attack."
"He can't actually beat me to death with a shovel."
"But he can have a heart attack. Seriously, Clark, what am I going to do with these?"
He smirked at her. "My mom's out of town next weekend and she's taking Lois with her. There's no way we'd be interrupted."
"Now that statement has possibilities. Still," She added, setting the boot back in its box and slipping the incriminating evidence under her bed. "Green's more my color. Crimson's definitely more your style."