A/N: Aww! You guys and your great reviews! I love you all so much! Thanks
for reviewing; it brightened my day right up. (Trust me; you do not want to
know how shitty the beginning of it was. I'll give you three hints. Dad. An
angry Dad. A messy closet. If anyone can guess, they win the prize!)
***********
This takes off from the point where Nicole sneaks off, and follows her; shall we say, interesting night?
***********
She snuck out silently, save for her slamming the door. Twice. Hey, she had to make sure they knew they could, umm, get down to…business…right?
Her plaid flannel button down came just above her knees, and covered her like the circus big top. In it, she was nothing but a shapeless body with two well muscled legs.
She stepped out daintily onto the grounds, trying not to hurt her feet.
"Why didn't I think to bring my homemade moccasins?" She berated herself loudly as she walked down the long curving drive.
She heard a chuckle, and she flipped him the bird.
"Clark, do you know what you are? You're a god damn sadist, that's what you are!"
He just chuckled, and stared at the attractive legs carefully walking down to where he had the truck parked.
*Damn they're a nice pair of legs*. And considering his own preference for all things flannel, well, he was liking the look, and wishing that she didn't have to change.
"Do you have my clothes?" She questioned as she opened the door to the truck. One leg up, then the other.
Clark grinned. *I just saw her panties!* His mind wandered to the time her suitcase had exploded, sending unmentionables all over him, and he started to blush.
"Clark! Earth to Clark Kent! Hello, Huston? We have a problem,"
"Huhh? Wha," Clark muttered, taking his eyes from her tanned legs. Nicole smiled inwardly.*I Knew someone would notice. And Mary tried to talk me out of going to the tanning bed! Ha! UV rays or not, it paid off,*
"My Clothes? The ones I gave you to put in the Truck so that we could hang out while they…are busy?" Nicole motioned to the looming mansion.
"Your clothes?"
"Don't tell me you don't have them?" Nicole said, aghast.
"Fine. I have them." He joked, looking at her intensely, trying to see her form under her flannel night shirt. Hey, what was the use of having gifts and not using them for, personal, benefits?
Nicole punched him hard in the shoulder, shaking his concentration.
"Hey! What was that for?" He cried, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder.
"Do you have them or not?" She asked, glaring at him. She was so cute when she was mad. Her eyebrows knit and her eyes narrowed, her wide mouth puckered, and Clark realized that he would give anything to kiss it right about now.
But he didn't.
"Yeah. They're right here." He motioned, a bit sadly. He threw her the grocery bag, and she took out her favourite shirt. It had cut off sleeves and a picture of two people's lips just barely touching on the front.
Clark fought down the rising attraction that he felt. Why did she have to be so god damn alluring?
He stared out the front mirror, only casually glancing at her through it.
She smiled.*Oh, he's looking at me…He wants to kiss me…he wants to huuuggg me…* her head started to move back and forth gleefully to the tune in her head. It was from her favourite movie, Miss Congeniality. She thought about it, and surmised she wouldn't mind having him do any of those things, so long as she had a chance to get her hands on his magnificent chest. Her gaze slowly drifted to his chest, covered by a worn ACDC tee- shirt, and she had to stifle a giggle.
"ACDC?" She questioned dubiously, holding back the giggle that was eager to erupt.
"What's wrong with ACDC?" He asked, looking at her, her legs hugged up against her chest and her hair falling to her shoulders. God she was something else.
"Nothing, I just want to know, is that shirt originally yours, or a hand me down from your dad?"
"It's mine! And why do I get the feeling that that was a very well hidden insult?" He questioned, a little miffed that she might be making fun of him. He, man of steel, could not protect himself against one petit little girl with a knack for making him flustered and insecure as all hell, while still totally comfortable?
"I just figured you for an, I don't know, a nine doors down kind of guy," She shrugged, and he blushed. He did like Nine Doors Down. It was his favourite band, but it wasn't really popular, and if you liked them, you were either emotionally screwed up or gay. And he was neither. He just liked the music. He liked ACDC too, and had opted to wear it. And why was he going over his motives for wearing the t-shirt anyways?
She made him so damned frustrated to the point where he didn't even know if he could think.
"Clark, pull over." She said. He looked at her strangely, "Clark, pull over," She repeated
"Why?" He asked, pulling over anyways.
"I need to get changed. I have a sneaking suspicion I may look slightly out of place wherever we're going in only a plaid button up."
He nodded and gulped. "Oh. Oh…do you want me to get out?" Nicole nodded, listening to the rain that had come up suddenly pelt against the roof like hail. Then shook her head.
"It would be preferred, but I don't want you out there getting bruises the size of hail balls all because you were protecting my dignity. Just turn around and don't look."
He did so, all the while wishing silently that his X-ray vision also included areas behind his head.
She had stripped off her Plaid flannel shirt and had already gotten her favourite ripped up 'home grown girl' jeans on and her old falling apart sandals. They had duck tape on them at places, and she wished she didn't look like such a bum around a hottie like Clark. *hottie? What the hell???*
Clark heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and looked to see who it was.
"Great." He muttered.
Nicole turned. "What?"
"Whitney." *the guy who has claim on both Nicole and Lana.*
Nicole sighed. "I hope he doesn't wonder what I'm doing in your truck with my shirt off." She said.
Clark's head snapped around so fast it reminded Nicole of the old road runner cartoons where Wilee sees the roadrunner run by.
His eyes moved their way up her nearly naked form with a hunger, a hunger she realized she had felt, looking at him.
The other truck rushed up to a halting stop across from theirs.
"Kent," Whitney slurred behind the wheel. His head shifted so he could make out the figure in the seat behind Clark.
Nicole saw his eyes widen as he looked at her, shirt just barely over her head, looking like a very confused, very embarrassed bunny rabbit with her big wide eyes,
"What the hell?" He asked, stumbling out of the quad cab, nearly falling on his face.
*Oh. He's drunk. Shit! He's drunk! And driving. Which is not good in itself, but now he is stumbling his way over here and he looks very mad. At least I have a way with drunks* She pulled her shirt over her head to stop all the gawking that was going on, both from Clark and Whitney.
"You're my girl!" Whitney shouted, smelling of alcohol as he opened the truck door loudly, "And you undress yourself here for Kent Clark and not for me? You fucking Slut! I should have known you were a whore! You and your damn I'm just a home grown Canadian girl attitude too. Fucking Bitch, Did you suck him off too?"
He turned to Clark, who was trying his hardest not to rip his door handle off with the hatred he was feeling for Whitney, who was calling the woman he loved a whore and a Slut. *loved?? Nah, liked a lot, think is extremely sexy and hot and alluring and sweet and funny and strong and sassy and cute and unique and…okay. Love*
He was going to tear Whitney limb from limb while he watched. If he laid one hand on her he would kill him. Slowly and painfully until he begged for mercy.
"Don't say another fucking word about her you chauvinistic piece of shit," Clark said calmly, though he was not calm.
"Kent can swear. Now thas sumfun I ain't neva heard before! Golden boy don't hurt me," He said, holding his hands up as if he was afraid.
Nicole laid a soothing hand on Clark's tensed arm. "It's Okay. Let me talk to him. I'll drive him back home; just wait for me at the Talon alright?"
"But Nicole, do you really think it's safe?" He asked, genuinely worried about her safety in Whitney's car. Alone.
She nodded. "I'm a big girl Clark. I can handle myself." She gave him a light peck on the cheek, sending shivers up his spine.
He watched her take Whitney's reculiant arm, and pull him back into the truck.
He had a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.
***********
This takes off from the point where Nicole sneaks off, and follows her; shall we say, interesting night?
***********
She snuck out silently, save for her slamming the door. Twice. Hey, she had to make sure they knew they could, umm, get down to…business…right?
Her plaid flannel button down came just above her knees, and covered her like the circus big top. In it, she was nothing but a shapeless body with two well muscled legs.
She stepped out daintily onto the grounds, trying not to hurt her feet.
"Why didn't I think to bring my homemade moccasins?" She berated herself loudly as she walked down the long curving drive.
She heard a chuckle, and she flipped him the bird.
"Clark, do you know what you are? You're a god damn sadist, that's what you are!"
He just chuckled, and stared at the attractive legs carefully walking down to where he had the truck parked.
*Damn they're a nice pair of legs*. And considering his own preference for all things flannel, well, he was liking the look, and wishing that she didn't have to change.
"Do you have my clothes?" She questioned as she opened the door to the truck. One leg up, then the other.
Clark grinned. *I just saw her panties!* His mind wandered to the time her suitcase had exploded, sending unmentionables all over him, and he started to blush.
"Clark! Earth to Clark Kent! Hello, Huston? We have a problem,"
"Huhh? Wha," Clark muttered, taking his eyes from her tanned legs. Nicole smiled inwardly.*I Knew someone would notice. And Mary tried to talk me out of going to the tanning bed! Ha! UV rays or not, it paid off,*
"My Clothes? The ones I gave you to put in the Truck so that we could hang out while they…are busy?" Nicole motioned to the looming mansion.
"Your clothes?"
"Don't tell me you don't have them?" Nicole said, aghast.
"Fine. I have them." He joked, looking at her intensely, trying to see her form under her flannel night shirt. Hey, what was the use of having gifts and not using them for, personal, benefits?
Nicole punched him hard in the shoulder, shaking his concentration.
"Hey! What was that for?" He cried, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder.
"Do you have them or not?" She asked, glaring at him. She was so cute when she was mad. Her eyebrows knit and her eyes narrowed, her wide mouth puckered, and Clark realized that he would give anything to kiss it right about now.
But he didn't.
"Yeah. They're right here." He motioned, a bit sadly. He threw her the grocery bag, and she took out her favourite shirt. It had cut off sleeves and a picture of two people's lips just barely touching on the front.
Clark fought down the rising attraction that he felt. Why did she have to be so god damn alluring?
He stared out the front mirror, only casually glancing at her through it.
She smiled.*Oh, he's looking at me…He wants to kiss me…he wants to huuuggg me…* her head started to move back and forth gleefully to the tune in her head. It was from her favourite movie, Miss Congeniality. She thought about it, and surmised she wouldn't mind having him do any of those things, so long as she had a chance to get her hands on his magnificent chest. Her gaze slowly drifted to his chest, covered by a worn ACDC tee- shirt, and she had to stifle a giggle.
"ACDC?" She questioned dubiously, holding back the giggle that was eager to erupt.
"What's wrong with ACDC?" He asked, looking at her, her legs hugged up against her chest and her hair falling to her shoulders. God she was something else.
"Nothing, I just want to know, is that shirt originally yours, or a hand me down from your dad?"
"It's mine! And why do I get the feeling that that was a very well hidden insult?" He questioned, a little miffed that she might be making fun of him. He, man of steel, could not protect himself against one petit little girl with a knack for making him flustered and insecure as all hell, while still totally comfortable?
"I just figured you for an, I don't know, a nine doors down kind of guy," She shrugged, and he blushed. He did like Nine Doors Down. It was his favourite band, but it wasn't really popular, and if you liked them, you were either emotionally screwed up or gay. And he was neither. He just liked the music. He liked ACDC too, and had opted to wear it. And why was he going over his motives for wearing the t-shirt anyways?
She made him so damned frustrated to the point where he didn't even know if he could think.
"Clark, pull over." She said. He looked at her strangely, "Clark, pull over," She repeated
"Why?" He asked, pulling over anyways.
"I need to get changed. I have a sneaking suspicion I may look slightly out of place wherever we're going in only a plaid button up."
He nodded and gulped. "Oh. Oh…do you want me to get out?" Nicole nodded, listening to the rain that had come up suddenly pelt against the roof like hail. Then shook her head.
"It would be preferred, but I don't want you out there getting bruises the size of hail balls all because you were protecting my dignity. Just turn around and don't look."
He did so, all the while wishing silently that his X-ray vision also included areas behind his head.
She had stripped off her Plaid flannel shirt and had already gotten her favourite ripped up 'home grown girl' jeans on and her old falling apart sandals. They had duck tape on them at places, and she wished she didn't look like such a bum around a hottie like Clark. *hottie? What the hell???*
Clark heard the sound of an approaching vehicle and looked to see who it was.
"Great." He muttered.
Nicole turned. "What?"
"Whitney." *the guy who has claim on both Nicole and Lana.*
Nicole sighed. "I hope he doesn't wonder what I'm doing in your truck with my shirt off." She said.
Clark's head snapped around so fast it reminded Nicole of the old road runner cartoons where Wilee sees the roadrunner run by.
His eyes moved their way up her nearly naked form with a hunger, a hunger she realized she had felt, looking at him.
The other truck rushed up to a halting stop across from theirs.
"Kent," Whitney slurred behind the wheel. His head shifted so he could make out the figure in the seat behind Clark.
Nicole saw his eyes widen as he looked at her, shirt just barely over her head, looking like a very confused, very embarrassed bunny rabbit with her big wide eyes,
"What the hell?" He asked, stumbling out of the quad cab, nearly falling on his face.
*Oh. He's drunk. Shit! He's drunk! And driving. Which is not good in itself, but now he is stumbling his way over here and he looks very mad. At least I have a way with drunks* She pulled her shirt over her head to stop all the gawking that was going on, both from Clark and Whitney.
"You're my girl!" Whitney shouted, smelling of alcohol as he opened the truck door loudly, "And you undress yourself here for Kent Clark and not for me? You fucking Slut! I should have known you were a whore! You and your damn I'm just a home grown Canadian girl attitude too. Fucking Bitch, Did you suck him off too?"
He turned to Clark, who was trying his hardest not to rip his door handle off with the hatred he was feeling for Whitney, who was calling the woman he loved a whore and a Slut. *loved?? Nah, liked a lot, think is extremely sexy and hot and alluring and sweet and funny and strong and sassy and cute and unique and…okay. Love*
He was going to tear Whitney limb from limb while he watched. If he laid one hand on her he would kill him. Slowly and painfully until he begged for mercy.
"Don't say another fucking word about her you chauvinistic piece of shit," Clark said calmly, though he was not calm.
"Kent can swear. Now thas sumfun I ain't neva heard before! Golden boy don't hurt me," He said, holding his hands up as if he was afraid.
Nicole laid a soothing hand on Clark's tensed arm. "It's Okay. Let me talk to him. I'll drive him back home; just wait for me at the Talon alright?"
"But Nicole, do you really think it's safe?" He asked, genuinely worried about her safety in Whitney's car. Alone.
She nodded. "I'm a big girl Clark. I can handle myself." She gave him a light peck on the cheek, sending shivers up his spine.
He watched her take Whitney's reculiant arm, and pull him back into the truck.
He had a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.