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Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of Smallville, the story line is mine, I have no association with WB whatsoever and all that cow.
* * * * * *
Lex Luthor getting me a cup of coffee.
Lex Luthor. Millionaire, bald wonder, world dominator, Satan worshipper, fast car driver and outsider.
Getting me a cup of coffee.
Feels weird, but that's not the only weird thing going on tonight. How about when he tucked my hair behind my ear? That's not even weird. That's plain strange.
And what was that moment when he leaned forward and looked into my eyes?
Now that was strange. In fact, no, I've got a better word for it. It was….. surreal.
I mentally shake my head. I am obviously just too desperate for any kind of attention tonight, even if it comes in the form of a brooding figure with no hair and too much sarcasm. Wake up and smell the Mocha Latte, Chloe.
I like to think of myself as a levelheaded and smart person (yes, despite the meteorite fascination and the Wall of Weird). And I believe, even at my age, that I at least have a vague concept as to how the world works.
In the world of Smallville, granted that meteorites turn humans into genetically deformed freaks, but being a tiny dot in the world nonetheless, it still goes by the same principles. A football jock will always get the prettiest girl. The nerd will always be in love with the best friend. And the best friend will always be hopelessly in love with the prettiest girl.
Now, normal people (i.e. anyone but me, and maybe Lex Luthor, and probably the mutants) are a lot more optimistic. The source of this evil being: books (particularly the romantic variety), TV shows (particularly the WB variety) and movies (particularly the John Hughes variety). In their world, the football jock will go for the nerd. The nerd will get her best friend. The prettiest girl is a total bitch who no one wants to end up with. The best friend will be with the prettiest girl for about a minute until he realizes that the said girl is a total bitch and therefore realize that the nerd in front of him is his one true love. And the villain will stay locked in his mansion, feeding meteorite pebbles to unsuspecting rats and not associate with pathetic town folk like us.
In my reality, our lives continue in a different physical existence, though basically runs a course the same as the rest of the world. The villain is the hero's best friend. The prettiest girl is kind and lovely and totally justifies the reason why she is indeed the prettiest, and will probably marry the football jock and live happily ever after. The best friend will remain in love with the prettiest girl and the nerd will end up alone and cynical and bitchy to the end of her days.
And sometimes, get stuck in conversation with the villain.
Anyway, it all comes down to one conclusion: men like Lex Luthor do not flirt with girls like me.
Remember that, Chloe Sullivan. That's wisdom.
I glance over at the counter where Lex is talking to Clark (probably advising Clark on more surefire ways to nab Lana, the bastard). When I see him turn around and approach me with my cup of Mocha Latte, I immediately switch from neurotic Chloe mode to cool, calm and nonchalant Chloe mode.
He places the cup in front of me and sits on the red couch he vacated earlier. "Hope you didn't wait long."
The Mocha Latte beams up at me and waves coffee aroma up my nose, kicking my caffeine crisis into overdrive. Forgetting the cool, calm and nonchalant act, I cradle the coffee cup between my hands and take a long sniff. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou."
"You're welcome," he says then adds conversationally, "You know coffee stunts growth."
Wow. Get me a coffee and top it off with health tips. "Guess I should quit right now before it endangers my life-long ambition of being a supermodel." He doesn't crack a smile. "Coffee is my only evil, so leave it be. Besides you drink coffee."
"I'm past my growing years."
"And you're probably developing some meteorite formula to add inches to the legs."
"If you're implying that I'm short, then you'd be the first one. Besides maybe Clark."
"From this height, Mr. Luthor, nobody's short."
"Then if the formula comes through, you'll be the first I test it on." He stays amused at this pathetic attempt of a joke before continuing, "Besides, we can't all be six foot three, can we?"
The man really is evil.
I'm about to go into an absolutely lethal insult-Lex-Luthor-down-to-his- grave rant when he says, "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Then before I can reply, "Why don't you ever call me by my first name?"
"What, Alexander?" I give myself a mental high-five.
My victory ends when I see him glaring at me, and I answer him with a shrug, even though I know the answer. And contrary to his beliefs (of which I'm sure are his beliefs), it's not because of intimidation or the fact that my father is his boss (although I wouldn't call him Lex to my dad's face).
You meet Lex Luthor and the first thing he says to you after calling him 'Mr. Luthor', is "Call me Lex." And he wouldn't ask you for your name, but he would tell you to call him by his first name. What is that? A way to show the little people that Lex Luthor can be turned from formidable figure to lovable hometown guy? Please.
At the same time, I wonder what it is about Lex Luthor. I don't dislike the guy. In fact, I kind of enjoy our weekly banters. And even though I still think he's pure evil, I've at least justified that he's totally human - if only because Clark deems it so.
And why do I think he's evil, anyway?
"I know you have a reason, " he says.
"And give an evil man like you any form of contentment by giving you an answer? Forget it."
He smiles. "I might resort to torture."
"I might enjoy it," I laugh and stop abruptly.
Let's rewind back to how men like Lex Luthor do not flirt with girls like me and girls like me should not turn into moronic sluts and throw sexual innuendoes at men like Lex Luthor.
"There's a new side of Chloe Sullivan I've never seen before," he remarks.
I take a sip of my Mocha Latte and feign a short attention span. "Hmm, really? Yes, anyway. About coffee stunting growth…."
"I think I might have to go ahead and torture you," he says, a smirk on his face. Of course he wouldn't let it go. He'd probably remind me of it to the end of my days, if he doesn't get summoned back to Hell before then.
I am annoyingly flustered. And to further my mortification, I feel blood rushing up to my cheeks.
But I will put on a brave face to my dying day. "As fascinating as this conversation is, since it's due to temporary insanity on my part, I think we should pursue more interesting subjects."
"Why do we have to change the subject at all?" he says.
"Because you're evil and you are dragging me down the pit holes of Hell with you."
"You brought it up."
"Exactly the point. Temporary insanity. Pay attention, Lex." And then I realize that I just called him Lex.
If he noticed, he's not saying anything. Which is good. I don't think I could have taken Lex Luthor scoring a victory over me.
"Fine," he says, leaning back, and leaving me to start the conversation. Again. The man just cannot be bothered to put himself through the pains of making small talk.
I hate small talk. I think there should be a lot more to a conversation than how the weather is. You learn things about a person from a conversation, and there's always something interesting to learn about in whomever you talk to (yes, even Lana Lang – we all know your parents died tragically, but get over it already). Idle chatter is just a waste of time.
But I'm obliging when it comes to Lex Luthor. I have a feeling that the man is quite possibly more stubborn than I am, and could stay resolutely silent for hours without breaking a sweat. Plus, I hate uncomfortable silences.
"What's your favorite movie?" I ask. God, I really am bad at this.
"Godfather," he replies, without thinking about it.
"Figures. I never thought of you as a Sixteen Candles type person. Mind you, I loved Sixteen Candles."
"Ah yes," he says, nodding his head, as if I just related a theory concerning quantum physics to him that he thoroughly approves of. "John Hughes was a master at making movies that made the young girls swoon."
"Yes, he was," I grin at him. That's a bit of information I never thought I would learn from Lex Luthor: the fact that he indulged in a John Hughes movie once in his life. "Unrealistic though."
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me quizzically. "Unrealistic?" I nod. "I'll bite, why?"
"Well," I start. "Jake Ryan, totally gorgeous male specimen, has Caroline, totally gorgeous female specimen, but somehow or other, for no apparent reason, falls in love with Samantha, totally normal female specimen. And the nerd, I forgot his name but I know it's Anthony Michael Hall, gets Caroline. That is fantasy fiction at its best."
"You don't think it's plausible?" I shake my head. "So you think, in reality, the popular guy would not fall in love with the ordinary girl and the nerd would not have gotten laid by the popular girl."
"Absolutely."
"Is that how it is in the Smallville world?"
I nod emphatically. "Classic example: the farm boy, Clark Kent. Loves the popular girl, Lana Lang, who is with the popular boy, Whitney Fordman. And the farm boy, no matter how hard he tries, would not be able to get the popular girl, because in reality, the popular girl will always be with the popular boy. They're two peas in a pod. You can't mess up that kind of science."
"The world has quirks."
"Not in Smallville."
"So in Smallville, in Sixteen Candles logic, who's in love with the farm boy?"
I pause. "I guess it would have to be the nerd."
He's silent, watching me, with no emotion on his face whatsoever.
"And the farm boy wouldn't fall in love with the nerd?"
"No. In reality, no one wakes up and sees who's right in front of them."
"Then maybe the world has another destiny for the nerd."
"Meaning?"
"Maybe she deserves better than the farm boy."
I look up at him and he looks at me, and a tense silence falls between us.
We look at each other like that, for what feels like hours, unflinching. And I just cannot, for the life of me, tear myself away from his eyes.
And more disturbing thoughts speak in the back of my twisted mind. What is better than the farm boy? How can there be anything better than the farm boy?
Or am I just not seeing who's right in front of me?
Then rational Chloe comes back to save the day. I am going out of my mind.
Mentally shaking myself, I go back to normal Chloe mode and, for the lack of knowing what to say, flash a grin at him. He manages a semi-smile back, which looks, unless I have gotten temporary insane again, vaguely sad.
"Okay," I say, and decide that maybe its better if I take a break from this weird moment. "I'm just going to go to the ladies room for two seconds." Then got up and quickly walk away from him before he could say another word.
I definitely need to take some time away from this man. He's screwing up my senses.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of Smallville, the story line is mine, I have no association with WB whatsoever and all that cow.
* * * * * *
Lex Luthor getting me a cup of coffee.
Lex Luthor. Millionaire, bald wonder, world dominator, Satan worshipper, fast car driver and outsider.
Getting me a cup of coffee.
Feels weird, but that's not the only weird thing going on tonight. How about when he tucked my hair behind my ear? That's not even weird. That's plain strange.
And what was that moment when he leaned forward and looked into my eyes?
Now that was strange. In fact, no, I've got a better word for it. It was….. surreal.
I mentally shake my head. I am obviously just too desperate for any kind of attention tonight, even if it comes in the form of a brooding figure with no hair and too much sarcasm. Wake up and smell the Mocha Latte, Chloe.
I like to think of myself as a levelheaded and smart person (yes, despite the meteorite fascination and the Wall of Weird). And I believe, even at my age, that I at least have a vague concept as to how the world works.
In the world of Smallville, granted that meteorites turn humans into genetically deformed freaks, but being a tiny dot in the world nonetheless, it still goes by the same principles. A football jock will always get the prettiest girl. The nerd will always be in love with the best friend. And the best friend will always be hopelessly in love with the prettiest girl.
Now, normal people (i.e. anyone but me, and maybe Lex Luthor, and probably the mutants) are a lot more optimistic. The source of this evil being: books (particularly the romantic variety), TV shows (particularly the WB variety) and movies (particularly the John Hughes variety). In their world, the football jock will go for the nerd. The nerd will get her best friend. The prettiest girl is a total bitch who no one wants to end up with. The best friend will be with the prettiest girl for about a minute until he realizes that the said girl is a total bitch and therefore realize that the nerd in front of him is his one true love. And the villain will stay locked in his mansion, feeding meteorite pebbles to unsuspecting rats and not associate with pathetic town folk like us.
In my reality, our lives continue in a different physical existence, though basically runs a course the same as the rest of the world. The villain is the hero's best friend. The prettiest girl is kind and lovely and totally justifies the reason why she is indeed the prettiest, and will probably marry the football jock and live happily ever after. The best friend will remain in love with the prettiest girl and the nerd will end up alone and cynical and bitchy to the end of her days.
And sometimes, get stuck in conversation with the villain.
Anyway, it all comes down to one conclusion: men like Lex Luthor do not flirt with girls like me.
Remember that, Chloe Sullivan. That's wisdom.
I glance over at the counter where Lex is talking to Clark (probably advising Clark on more surefire ways to nab Lana, the bastard). When I see him turn around and approach me with my cup of Mocha Latte, I immediately switch from neurotic Chloe mode to cool, calm and nonchalant Chloe mode.
He places the cup in front of me and sits on the red couch he vacated earlier. "Hope you didn't wait long."
The Mocha Latte beams up at me and waves coffee aroma up my nose, kicking my caffeine crisis into overdrive. Forgetting the cool, calm and nonchalant act, I cradle the coffee cup between my hands and take a long sniff. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou."
"You're welcome," he says then adds conversationally, "You know coffee stunts growth."
Wow. Get me a coffee and top it off with health tips. "Guess I should quit right now before it endangers my life-long ambition of being a supermodel." He doesn't crack a smile. "Coffee is my only evil, so leave it be. Besides you drink coffee."
"I'm past my growing years."
"And you're probably developing some meteorite formula to add inches to the legs."
"If you're implying that I'm short, then you'd be the first one. Besides maybe Clark."
"From this height, Mr. Luthor, nobody's short."
"Then if the formula comes through, you'll be the first I test it on." He stays amused at this pathetic attempt of a joke before continuing, "Besides, we can't all be six foot three, can we?"
The man really is evil.
I'm about to go into an absolutely lethal insult-Lex-Luthor-down-to-his- grave rant when he says, "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Then before I can reply, "Why don't you ever call me by my first name?"
"What, Alexander?" I give myself a mental high-five.
My victory ends when I see him glaring at me, and I answer him with a shrug, even though I know the answer. And contrary to his beliefs (of which I'm sure are his beliefs), it's not because of intimidation or the fact that my father is his boss (although I wouldn't call him Lex to my dad's face).
You meet Lex Luthor and the first thing he says to you after calling him 'Mr. Luthor', is "Call me Lex." And he wouldn't ask you for your name, but he would tell you to call him by his first name. What is that? A way to show the little people that Lex Luthor can be turned from formidable figure to lovable hometown guy? Please.
At the same time, I wonder what it is about Lex Luthor. I don't dislike the guy. In fact, I kind of enjoy our weekly banters. And even though I still think he's pure evil, I've at least justified that he's totally human - if only because Clark deems it so.
And why do I think he's evil, anyway?
"I know you have a reason, " he says.
"And give an evil man like you any form of contentment by giving you an answer? Forget it."
He smiles. "I might resort to torture."
"I might enjoy it," I laugh and stop abruptly.
Let's rewind back to how men like Lex Luthor do not flirt with girls like me and girls like me should not turn into moronic sluts and throw sexual innuendoes at men like Lex Luthor.
"There's a new side of Chloe Sullivan I've never seen before," he remarks.
I take a sip of my Mocha Latte and feign a short attention span. "Hmm, really? Yes, anyway. About coffee stunting growth…."
"I think I might have to go ahead and torture you," he says, a smirk on his face. Of course he wouldn't let it go. He'd probably remind me of it to the end of my days, if he doesn't get summoned back to Hell before then.
I am annoyingly flustered. And to further my mortification, I feel blood rushing up to my cheeks.
But I will put on a brave face to my dying day. "As fascinating as this conversation is, since it's due to temporary insanity on my part, I think we should pursue more interesting subjects."
"Why do we have to change the subject at all?" he says.
"Because you're evil and you are dragging me down the pit holes of Hell with you."
"You brought it up."
"Exactly the point. Temporary insanity. Pay attention, Lex." And then I realize that I just called him Lex.
If he noticed, he's not saying anything. Which is good. I don't think I could have taken Lex Luthor scoring a victory over me.
"Fine," he says, leaning back, and leaving me to start the conversation. Again. The man just cannot be bothered to put himself through the pains of making small talk.
I hate small talk. I think there should be a lot more to a conversation than how the weather is. You learn things about a person from a conversation, and there's always something interesting to learn about in whomever you talk to (yes, even Lana Lang – we all know your parents died tragically, but get over it already). Idle chatter is just a waste of time.
But I'm obliging when it comes to Lex Luthor. I have a feeling that the man is quite possibly more stubborn than I am, and could stay resolutely silent for hours without breaking a sweat. Plus, I hate uncomfortable silences.
"What's your favorite movie?" I ask. God, I really am bad at this.
"Godfather," he replies, without thinking about it.
"Figures. I never thought of you as a Sixteen Candles type person. Mind you, I loved Sixteen Candles."
"Ah yes," he says, nodding his head, as if I just related a theory concerning quantum physics to him that he thoroughly approves of. "John Hughes was a master at making movies that made the young girls swoon."
"Yes, he was," I grin at him. That's a bit of information I never thought I would learn from Lex Luthor: the fact that he indulged in a John Hughes movie once in his life. "Unrealistic though."
He cocks his head to the side and looks at me quizzically. "Unrealistic?" I nod. "I'll bite, why?"
"Well," I start. "Jake Ryan, totally gorgeous male specimen, has Caroline, totally gorgeous female specimen, but somehow or other, for no apparent reason, falls in love with Samantha, totally normal female specimen. And the nerd, I forgot his name but I know it's Anthony Michael Hall, gets Caroline. That is fantasy fiction at its best."
"You don't think it's plausible?" I shake my head. "So you think, in reality, the popular guy would not fall in love with the ordinary girl and the nerd would not have gotten laid by the popular girl."
"Absolutely."
"Is that how it is in the Smallville world?"
I nod emphatically. "Classic example: the farm boy, Clark Kent. Loves the popular girl, Lana Lang, who is with the popular boy, Whitney Fordman. And the farm boy, no matter how hard he tries, would not be able to get the popular girl, because in reality, the popular girl will always be with the popular boy. They're two peas in a pod. You can't mess up that kind of science."
"The world has quirks."
"Not in Smallville."
"So in Smallville, in Sixteen Candles logic, who's in love with the farm boy?"
I pause. "I guess it would have to be the nerd."
He's silent, watching me, with no emotion on his face whatsoever.
"And the farm boy wouldn't fall in love with the nerd?"
"No. In reality, no one wakes up and sees who's right in front of them."
"Then maybe the world has another destiny for the nerd."
"Meaning?"
"Maybe she deserves better than the farm boy."
I look up at him and he looks at me, and a tense silence falls between us.
We look at each other like that, for what feels like hours, unflinching. And I just cannot, for the life of me, tear myself away from his eyes.
And more disturbing thoughts speak in the back of my twisted mind. What is better than the farm boy? How can there be anything better than the farm boy?
Or am I just not seeing who's right in front of me?
Then rational Chloe comes back to save the day. I am going out of my mind.
Mentally shaking myself, I go back to normal Chloe mode and, for the lack of knowing what to say, flash a grin at him. He manages a semi-smile back, which looks, unless I have gotten temporary insane again, vaguely sad.
"Okay," I say, and decide that maybe its better if I take a break from this weird moment. "I'm just going to go to the ladies room for two seconds." Then got up and quickly walk away from him before he could say another word.
I definitely need to take some time away from this man. He's screwing up my senses.