Notes: Followup piece. This is where it takes them.
It appears to have been only five months and Valentines Day has passed Clark Kent by about ten times already.
All in the interest of keeping his best friend safe, of course. He didn't want her erstwhile boyfriend turning into a bony creature and eating her or anything.
But no matter how many times Clark re-winded and spied on him, he never did. Rather, in every timeline, he became one of those insanely good Samaritans who always found himself jumping in front of robbers in banks and convincing emo Japanese businessmen not to jump off roofs.
Clark Kent knows. He had to write the articles ten times each.
Chloe Sullivan was always a sizeable part of his story. Whether commandeering the presses for her own underground newspaper, or crashing at his place.
Since their crazy Sliders adventure to save the world, it always turned out the same.
Month One: always involved Chloe going to visit Davis. They discussed the dangers of intergalactic queens and evil manipulative computers, played chess in the apartment, and had long philosophical conversations he could not decipher for the life of him.
He always ended up giving helpful advice at this point. Those old gems. (Look before you leap into his…anybody's lap.)
Month Two: was possibly the first time anyone got annulment papers for possession by an alien supercomputer. Of course, Chloe Sullivan was not just anyone.
Maybe it came through so quick because ever since he came out of the closet, the world got progressive. That was the phrase, wasn't it? (He revealed his powers, adopted his own symbol and accepted his destiny. The fan-mail and hate-mail wouldn't let up.)
And of course, date night started over at the complex.
Clark Kent will never forget vanishing behind the roses and the mariachis as long as he lives. (That was why she couldn't watch Hellboy with him.)
Month Three: and he'd actually thought he'd been fooled and that Davis Bloome was killing her. She turned out to be quite alive. He'd blurred out of the window as fast as he could with his cape flapping in the breeze. He hadn't thought that was even possible.
(He had to ask Lana, someday when she wasn't having hallucinations of being a superhero.)
Indeed, that month was when the actual honeymoon started. Clark Kent didn't want his ears to burn or his couch to incinerate again, so he stayed out of the mile radius of the complex.
The only problem was, of course, that he only saw Chloe the one day of the week when she pretended to be living in her apartment. (The rest of the time she was away, and the phone was always off the hook after eight p.m.)
It's not like he could keep rewinding time. It got just like Groundhog Day, and Clark finally understood why the guy shot himself (temporarily).
All roads led to Rome. Or rather, all roads lead to balloons.
In the vacated Talon now he sees balloons. Balloons everywhere, shaped into poodles and lopsided hearts, tied in bunches, a myriad of every describable color known to man, and maybe some unique to Krypton.
Lois has recruited him into playing assistant for the bachelorette, uh, farewell single Superhero Party.
He doesn't know why exactly he felt suddenly compelled to agree. (It must have been the infamous Sullivan-Lane gene.)
She hadn't liked his idea of hosting it in the newly rebuilt barn
And then of course, he'd discovered that she had, with her characteristic foresight, rented out the entire Talon for them.. Of course, without the staff.
"I have contacts for everyone but the bartenders."
"Why didn't you ask for the staffed ones?"
"Are you honestly going to ask me? Have you even looked at the guest list like I told you to?
Nevermind.
There's the Flash, Ollie as Green Arrow, Aqua-man, you, Chloe's latest friend who literally melts when he's embarrassed, and that super genius kid who goes around peering at people and recording their genetic coding. Creepy… And Davis's rescued exploding businessman…
There's no bartender on this planet who won't bring the paparazzi in for a few shots."
He can see them all, among throngs of people, taking shots, hundreds of extended chubby fingers, kids calling about their cats. He shudders.
"This has the potential to be…"
"With that face, it looks like you're going to say World War Three. Relax, Kent. It's just something nice for Chloe. We'll get it done, somehow.
Or you will. Find me two of them by tomorrow. I'm counting on you."
She punches him on the shoulder and suddenly blushes.
"How many curls do you do, anyway?
Wait, never mind. Silly of me- all that super-alien stuff."
She forgets her double scotch on the way out.
He really doesn't understand Lois.
Noon. No Bartender.
It's not that he failed, exactly. It wasn't his fault that a prankster let about five ostriches out of the Metropolis Zoo.
"You didn't find anyone, did you?"
Always the lowest common denominator with Lois.
"Weeellll…"
"That's just fine."
"What?"
"You've been elected for the job. You have all those alien reflexes. And you were a swinger for a while, right?"
Clark bites his tongue. He's not honest about everything.
"Well then you ought to know at least how to make Long Island Iced Tea. Bring a friend. Preferably one that's easy on the eyes. Tell him there are free drinks."
Chloe's not home today. He finds himself knocking on the door.
"I need a favor."
"This is horrible! You got her fiancé to be the bartender at her bachelorette party, or goodbye single superhero party? It's unheard of! A violation of all the secret, dirty etiquette that has endured in these parties for thousands of years! What about the dancers? How can I bring them now?"
"You don't mean those… gyrating ones, do you?" (With his eyes, it is way too much to see in high definition. Everything gleams and it makes him queasy. )
"Does it sound like I'm talking about Cossacks?"
"Forget about the dancers. He's more important. My alien sense tells me Chloe will sneak off in the middle of it if he's not here."
"Maybe you do have a point. And it's not like it'll be anything wild for the first two hours. Uncle Gabe's actually coming this time."
"Really?"
"Yep. His non-meteor power is foresight. He knows when a wedding is going to stick. So he'll be here for two hours, and give Davis the secret test. Then he'll go and the real party can begin."
"I really don't think…"
"Quiet. I'm on a roll." Lois whacks her fist on the table, gleeful.
"Maybe Davis could do the dancing. But it is supposed to be a bachelorette party.
Not a lovebird party. And if you get those two together you'll have to pry them a part with a crowbar.
You just keep him behind the bar with that super strength of yours and we should be fine."
"I will if you promise not to bring dancers, Lois. No guy wants to see that, and Chloe really won't get a kick out of it. She is happy with…"
"She refused the dancers. But I'm optimistic. Can you make Oliver four triple margaritas?"
One more hour to go.
"I am going against the code, I realize, but I'm worried here. I need advice."
"Why?"
"I don't know what to talk about."
"Talk to him about Chloe. He likes to talk about her."
"See that's not a good idea. It's awkward."
"Why?"
"They-- don't make me say it."
"Ah, I realize it's unsettling for you to think of Chloe-as a sexual, mature adult in a real relationship. You should get over Kent. Are we done?"
"More literal."
"I can't go around their apartment. I hear…things."
"The voices in your head?"
"No, they make noise, Lois. I can't talk to him about Chloe without….major brain overload…
So, what are we going to talk about?"
"Hah. Easy! Football. You played football."
"I don't think he watches any."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"…"
"So, Kent, what exactly did you hear?"
Clark Kent shouldn't have worried too much about the conversation.
Once the crush of people comes in, Davis Bloom is too absorbed in trying to remember what in the world all those bottles say.
Clark is lining up about a hundred different glasses in super speed, trying not to accidentally crush them.
Distinct voices demanding some things known as Bloody Mary's and Long Island Iced Teas.
"You said you knew about mixing."
"I did this project with Saline Solutions in my training. I didn't think it would be that much different."
Davis Bloome likes his corner. From there, he can formulate things whilst gazing at Chloe. It's the only way he can get the spearmint to properly go in the vodka.
Green.
She's wearing the green dress, she's let her hair loose and she's pulling Lois through the crowd. It's her last day single and she keeps looking for him.
He forgets if he was supposed to add sugar or salt.
In another universe he'd turned into a spiny hulk and gotten chased by superheroes, whilst she'd worn an eyepatch.
He still can't get over the fact that in this one they're getting married.
Clark Kent hasn't said anything. It's fine with him. After he'd gotten the 'If you hurt her I will lock you up in a jail cell with Kiss records and then drop you off a cliff', and he'd replied 'please and right back at you', they'd come to some sort of understanding.
Although he still has a bone to pick with Clark for making poor Chloe think she was a head case. But it all turned out okay.
"I thought you would be ready to jump over the counter by now." Clark says, conversationally.
"No. You used to give me a buzzing headache, but now? All fixed."
Davis sends two more glasses down the counter.
"So it really doesn't bother you that she's spending her time away from you now?"
"No. Why would it? She deserves to have fun, and the best, most wonderful time with the people she cares about."
Hah. Of course Davis would say that. Only two more hours and he and Chloe would be home and playing twister…
"Does it bother you?"
Clark Kent fixes on his best, most sincere superhero face. He's not a bad liar.
"Of course not."
"Why do the drinks keep disappearing? I swear, I've made about four hundred in the past five minutes."
There's only one explanation for this.
"Bart!"
The blur settles for a minute.
"Why are you drinking all the...secret drinks?" (They don't really have names)
Of course, the short superhero doesn't respond to Clark. Rather he reaches over the counter and nearly pokes Davis on the nose.
"So you are the lucky thief who stole away my Chloe-licious!
This time, she didn't even consider it. You have ruined my plans of a getaway to Jamaica forever."
"You never poked Jimmy, Bart."
"Pshaw. Jimmy was…Jimmy was…"
He falls asleep before he can further enlighten them.
"Poor kid. He's Chloe's friend. And he is actually not blind." Davis says.
Clark doesn't know what that means. "He shouldn't sleep on that counter."
"So where should we put him?"
"The piano?"
That's the extent of their bonding ritual.
(It's a guy thing.)
Chloe Sullivan has been doing rounds for the first two hours already.
All she really wants to do is go up to the bar, sit somewhere comfortable and talk to Davis. Or maybe not talk exactly. It's been three hours. She'd no saint, especially when she catches him looking at her with that completely open, fond smile.
Of course, since it's her party, she can't possibly go and hug her fiancé.
Oh no, says Lois the workhorse.
So, she's talked to Oliver, swilling his champagne and deeply in mourning over not eliminating Lex's evil mutant genes from the planet.
She's talked to the boy wonder as he took notes on Oliver's gene structure.
(See this sequence? It means that he is theoretically programmed for psycho-pathy. He only needs slightly more angst to become a super villain.)
But Oliver had gotten happier by his second drink. There were green arrow hearts shot onto all the dartboards.
Then there was Bart with tickets to Jamaica (who promptly vanished when she'd started to tell him about Davis), AC with an adorable black bear she called Doomy, the Japanese businessman who sat in the corner and accidentally made the piñata explode, her Dad pulling out his Daddy speech, and about every other superhero in Metropolis...
Now of course, comes the least fun part of it all.
She'd invited Jimmy of course. He wasn't a half-bad guy, he had been nice enough for boyfriend despite the wandering eyes, and he was a prominent member of the circle of weird.
She can see his reddish head a few people away. And it sounds so weird. She invited her ex-husband to her goodbye singleness party.
Stupid Braniac.
But it isn't Jimmy's fault.
The only awkward part is the girlfriends. So far he's introduced her to five, all of which were a bit… how to put it delicately…straight out of a catalogue of botched surgeries. To prove how happy he was, of course.
She thinks it is so much easier when she has Davis to distract her from the heaving bosoms. But he's currently trapped behind people and an entire countertop.
"This is Melinda." Jimmy tells her. "She's a librarian."
Chloe nearly sighs in relief when the diminutive girl adjusts her glasses. She looks… normal.
"You know Chloe. She was in that article..." Jimmy tells her smoothly.
"Of course! I filed it twice. That marriage legislation really needed some changing!"
She grins and kind of shakes her hand weakly. Chloe's almost too stunned to respond.
"Wow, you read!... err…English! You read English! That's awesome. Last time she only read Russian."
(Actually, that last girlfriend didn't even read pig-latin, much less Russian, but Chloe wasn't going to say that.)
"Oh. I love it. You write, don't you? I was hoping maybe we could chat about journalism. All that investigative stuff you do…"
"You heard about that?"
"Infiltrating the gang of deadly miming Sushi chefs? Are you kidding? It's legendary!
Jimmy, since we're going to talk. Would you like to drink the tequila in the meantime?"
Jimmy had picked a keeper.
One hour later and finally Chloe is free. Her feet are going to fall off. She swears it. But they hold on long enough for her to get to Davis.
She's always wanted to sit on a countertop. It is her party.
"Chloe!"
Of course he gives her a hand to clamber onto his counter. His hands are warm. Her shoeless feet bump into his knees.
"Hey, you." She says. It's her Barbra Eden voice. (You know, in the Ball of Fire, just before she starts stacking the books and the poor professor doesn't stand a chance.)
The very one Chloe's rehearsed in front of the mirror for the past week.
Davis notices of course. She doesn't know if he realizes that he's doing the eye thing again.
She really wishes they could find a closet.
But Clark clears his throat for the forth time, and he remembers to do his job, just while they have company.
"Do you want something to drink? I think we have water and… what is that? Long-Island Tequila surprise. Or something."
"It's all good. I'm just happy to be sitting down without those torture contraptions. But I do need something."
Oh, no, Clark thinks, he can't possibly handle this for one more minute.
"So far, I have been given advice from forty-two super powered individuals. And I'll get it all over again, tomorrow.
But I've always heard that the best advice comes from a friendly bartender. So what advice have you got for me?"
Davis thinks about the throngs of people stealing her away again.
"Let's elope."
"Sounds good. Just how many Elvis impersonators do you know?"
Of course, just at this moment is when Lois chooses to barge in.
"Oh no, you don't!"
(It's not like she has the capacity to bodily pull her off the counter. It is her fifth drink.)
She still sounds positively scandalized.
"Cuz, that's your fiancée you're flirting with."
"Yes. I know I'm lucky. And I'm not moving."
"Chloe!"
"Lois."
"Well fine. But what do I do about the interior restaurant decorators at the door?"
"They're this late? Tell them to go away."
"No Lois. You have to be dreaming. I remember they were early." Clark remembers letting them in.
"Kent, don't tell me you ordered another group of interior decorators to change my color scheme."
"Of course not."
He had been tempted. But he had overcome his ignoble impulse.
"No way." Chloe says, finally. "You know what this means."
"Paparazzo."
"It's your party Chloe. I'll go handle it for you."
Or, all things considered, be handled.
Clark can visualize the flash of bulbs, the hundred girls with grabby fingers.
"I can… I can …"
"You're shaking, Kent. I'll do it." Lois raises her drink hand fiercely, nearly tipping what's left of the tequila surprise onto his nice tie.
"You're drunk!"
"I'm not. Just because Davis doesn't touch the stuff doesn't mean a few drinks make me drunk.
Why doesn't Davis, anyway? It's not normal."
"Foster home. Foster parent drank. He did a really horrible impression of Sinatra." Chloe takes about a second to answer that. "It was traumatic. We had to meditate to get over it."
"She developed the plan."
"…And it worked.
We will tackle this as a team. You two, stay put. Keep everyone entertained."
"What are we going to do in here?"
"You could dance. Show off your moves."
"I don't really dance. But you could sing. C'mon Lois, kick off the Karaoke session. You and Oliver can sing Wanted Dead or Alive. Your little cuz is counting on you."
"Give my margarita back first, Kent."
Chloe Sullivan didn't have to tell Davis to block off the exit. That's already their automatic mode. It worked with the exploding businessman.
This particular scenario turns out better than Chloe had thought. Only one camera this time, carried by one woman with a very fake black wig.
Chloe hates running in the torture chambers. So of course, she doesn't.
She holds the two green stilettos in one hand and charges across the tile. They gleam vaguely like deadly weapons.
She doesn't even have to tell the woman to drop the camera.
She wants to give Davis a thumbs up, but that might ruin the dramatic picture, so she talks instead.
"Now tell me who you are."
"…She thought her purpose in the universe was to reveal Clark as a fraud. We set her straight. Now she's taken the name Stiletto and decided to interview him."
"Horrible woman." Lois scowls. "That could have been my super-heroine name. You should have let me take her.
And can you believe Oliver forgot all of his lines? I had to duet with myself."
"Don't knock it. She was very talky. I think we had the harder job."
"Of course, she must have been stubborn if it took a whole hour to convince her."
(All Chloe had needed to convince her was the few pictures of mad tabby cats which she always kept in her purse.)
"Hmmm."
She thinks that rip in her skirt is out of sight. It wasn't like Davis could have avoided it. The closet made all skillful maneuvering kind of impossible. And he was quite skilled, mind…
"What 'hmm' is that? An absentminded Clark hmm? A double hot fudge sundae hmm?"
Lois is getting too close.
"It's the kind that says, two more hours of talki-ness, here I come. Who is next on the list? Perry White? Batman? Spiderman? I'm ready."
"Hey, wait up, intrepid heroine. I need to fix your hair again. What did you do to it.?"
"Oh, it was definitely the running. And the wind. A whole lot of wind."
It's not quite a disaster zone, Clark Kent thinks optimistically as another deformed poodle-balloon smacks him in the face.
The half-exploded parrot piñata stares at him beadily.
Fine, so, there's confetti coating the floor. He's going to have to yank the deeply embedded green hearts out of the dartboards. And straighten up the chairs that were knocked upside down by a few super-powered friends trying to fly DUI, after he throws the rest of the 'special' tequila out.
But it's all good. Mostly everyone's gone but Lois, Bart, himself and the couple.
Chloe's happily polishing the third dirty glass while Davis mops the counter. Or rather, they are pretending to do all those things whilst grinning foolishly and humming so sort of duet.
Clark thinks that if he doesn't get them out of there he's going to learn what Lois's interpretation of the phrase glued at the hip means.
"Hey, why don't you two head on out? You look toward and there's that whole ceremony tomorrow."
"Oh, we couldn't leave you here with all that work."
She's tempted. She's very tempted.
"Oh, Lois was just telling me how she can wash the dishes much faster than me. We're going to have a contest."
"What was that, Smallville?"
"Have a goodnight, you guys."
They look tired, his ear.
But it's all good, he thinks to himself as he prepares to get Bart off of the piano. Next month Chloe has promised to watch Hellboy with him before Davis gets off work.
He couldn't count the number of times she grinned today.
She is happy. So he is happy.
And Superman or not, there is no way he would survive rewinding this again.
Endnotes: Yep, another game of spot the spoilers. If you do read, please do drop an contibution in the little box.