| WHAT WE HAVE LOVED |
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Smallville characters, but, if I had the choice, I'd make Tom Welling my manservant. All events in this piece are fictional and are from the matrix of my own mind. Please don't steal. It's wrong.
Wanting More :
Lana stood there in another pink top. She looked so cute when she didn't know anyone was watching her. At times, Clark felt like stalker of sorts, the way he knew intimate details about her life. Like how her parents died just across the street from her while she was held in her aunt's arms, and the way she closed one eye pensively when called upon in class by the teacher. He knew little nit-picky things about her taste in food and how cheesecake was only delicious if it was blueberry. He simply noticed things about her and observed her every move.
"I'm hopeless," Clark told Pete as the two of them headed to the rest of the gym class in the field. "Lana's just another human being and here I am mooning over her like one of those pitiful characters in Dawson's Creek."
Pete laughed. He was always laughing at Clark's persistence in the Lana Lang department. "My friend, you've got issues. I don't think I need to tell you that. I've known you almost my whole life Clark and I can honestly say that you're at your wit's end when it comes to Lana. You transform into this babbling monkey."
"Although I appreciate the analogy, I really do think I am getting somewhere with Lana," Clark told him as he bent over to tie his kleats up. "We've been talking a lot lately. Sometimes she drops by the loft and we just sit and talk and watch the sunset. It's like my high school fantasy is coming true right before my eyes. She's so beautiful, more beautiful now than ever." Clark glanced over at Lana standing with the rest of the girls who were stretching at the other end of the school's field.
"How romantic!" Pete marveled in a feminine voice. "Well, did you show her your moves?" He gave Clark a wink and a nudge to his ribs.
Clark shoved his friend playfully, but Pete accidentally hit his bottom on the grass. "Jeez, Clark!"
"Sorry, Pete!" Clark apologized as he helped him up. "Sometimes I forget my own superhuman strength."
"You sound really convinced of that, Clark," Pete joked as he ran towards his teammates.
"Yeah," Clark muttered to himself. "Too convinced."
* * * * * * *
Chloe was sitting under a tall oak tree when Clark spied her, wearing black slacks and a classic pinstriped shirt. She was scribbling something on a loose-leaf paper. As he walked towards her, he was startled by how she looked perched under the tree, half bathed in sunlight and half swathed in the shadow of the mighty oak. Her blonde hair tossed about slightly in the warm summer breeze and she used her fingers to easily push it behind her ears. Her other hand was furiously jotting things on the paper, but as quickly as her pen moved Clark knew she was pouring a tremendous amount of thought into her words. That was the way Chloe worked. Every action and gesture had great thought behind it.
"What's up in the world, Miss Sullivan?" Clark called out as he jogged over to her. The two youngsters found themselves in front of their school with the sparse amount of students dispersing from the building late in the afternoon. Chloe was always alone with her thoughts. Clark always wondered whether or not he was intruding when he interrupted her writing, but now, as Chloe's ruminating expression transformed into a charming smile, he knew he wasn't.
"Same old," she replied as she quickly slammed her notebook shut and tucked it into her tan carrier bag. "Where's Pete? Don't you guys have gym class together?"
Clark shrugged and said, "He spotted Marcia Hennings in the lounge and took off after her. He's determined to have a date for the Arnold Wagowski's party tomorrow night."
"That's Pete for you," Chloe said. "And how about you? Are you going to at least attempt to ask Lana to the party?" She pretended not to care about his response as she got up to walk home with him. "It's been a good three months since she broke up with Whitney. The rebound period is over. You have a real shot now, stud."
"I was thinking about it," Clark replied. "The other day when she dropped by the loft, she was talking about moving on and then she gave me this strange, somewhat meaningful stare. It was so penetrating."
"That's poetic," Chloe managed to utter. "It's a good sign, right?"
"I guess. I know I've spent almost a lifetime just dreaming of talking to her, and since two years ago I got my wish. We started talking and I think it's safe to say we're pretty good friends. Now that she's not with Whitney anymore, I should feel free to 'make my move,' as Pete would so eloquently put it."
"But…" Chloe continued for her friend. They were approaching her yellow house, and as much as she would have liked to end the conversation about Smallville's beloved orphan, she wanted to hear Clark's answer.
"But I really don't feel right about it. It's as if this isn't how I imagined things would work out. I mean, she's always been this unattainable creature to me, and now that I have a shot, I'm not quite sure what to do with it," Clark trailed on. He looked at Chloe. "I know I'm not making any sense."
Chloe shook her head. "No," she replied. "It's love, Clark. It's not supposed to make sense."
"I'm not so sure I even know what love is," Clark sighed. "Well, I guess this is your stop." He paused before pushing a stray tendril of blonde hair from Chloe's long, dark lashes. Why had he never realized how Chloe's cheeks blushed a scarlet hue whenever he touched her? Had that always happened?
Chloe quickly spun around, tossing her hand back to wave goodbye to Clark. "See you later!" Clark had one last look at Chloe as she ran into her house before heading to the direction of his own. He wondered if Chloe blushing had only been the product of his overactive imagination.
Suddenly, from what seemed to be inside of his own head he heard someone screaming for help. "Please, don't hurt me! Help! Someone!" With a force he had come to terms with over the last few years, Clark ran towards the location of the voice with amazing speed. When he ran with his fullest power, he could look around him and see everyone stopped dead in their tracks, unaware than a teenage boy was hurdling past them faster than sound or light.
"Help me!" the voice continued pleading. Clark reached a dark alley where the voice had been coming from. He spied a woman with her blouse torn open on the ground with a monster of a man lying on top of her and attempting to tear her skirt off.
Clark was on the man in an instant and pushed him into the wall of the nearest building. Bricks flew everywhere as one hit the man in the head and knocked him out cold. The wall was a now a gaping hole. He turned his attention to the female lying before him on the ground, half-naked and screaming incessantly.
"He tried to rape me! Oh, God!" she cried out. Clark removed his own corduroy jacket and placed it over the woman in an attempt to calm her. "Where did you come from?" the woman asked Clark incredulously. "There was no one here a minute ago." Her suspicion was overtaken by her gratitude as Clark helped her to her feet and hurried her to the police station.
In moments, the police had apprehended the unconscious man from the crime scene and the woman was calmed down enough to press charges of attempted rape and assault. When Clark called his parents using a pay-phone, they rushed to the police station.
"Clark!" his mother yelled as she ran into the precinct. "Are you alright?" His father stalked in after her. "What happened?"
The young police officer standing beside Clark gave him pat on the back. "Your son's a hero, Mrs. Kent. He always seems to be around when people are in need of help. Smallville could use more people like that, considering all of the strange occurrences than have been happening ever since the meteor shower." The police officer's British accent was obvious and Mrs. Kent always seemed to be intrigued by it. Clark respected him for not only being part of the esteemed Smallville police force but also for just sounding so damn suave. His jet-black hair and his rather intense expressions made the young man a prime target for the hearts of females in the town who desired the conventional tall, dark, and handsome paramour.
"Thanks, Officer Kensington," Clark replied as he shook the young man's eager hand. They had forged a slight friendship over the years that Clark had "coincidentally" appeared at crime scenes, swearing that he had only happened upon the criminals and thusly used what strength he had to stop them from committing the act. Over the years, Officer Kensington had shook Clark's had at least a dozen times and he knew that there were probably more people Clark had helped whom he would never know about. Instead of feeling suspicious, all Officer Kensington could feel for Clark was utmost gratitude, as the rest of the Smallville community undoubtedly did.
"Call me Jeremy, Clark," the young officer informed him. "I'm only three years older than you. I even graduated from your high school after moving here from London. I never imagined that the crime rate in a town as quaint as Smallville would double my hometown." Jeremy cleared his throat, afraid he had distressed the Kent family. "I guess that's a little too much information than I am allowed to disclose."
"Don't worry," Jonathan Kent told him with a nod. "We completely understand."
On the ride home, Clark's father scolded Clark about using his powers in public as he worked the steering wheel of the huge truck. "Did you make sure that woman you saved wasn't looking? We can't risk having perfect strangers see you fling a man through a brick wall with just a flick of your fingers. We came too close to losing you last year."
Clark thought back to that year when a corrupt detective had attempted to extort him with knowledge of his powers. He had made Clark break into certain politicians' homes and steal confidential files. Clark turned on the detective's order and in the end the corrupt cop was killed, though not by his hands but as a result of his own illegal dealings. Clark remembered fearing the detective exposing his secret to the world; he had photographs and film of Clark pushing a runaway bus aside with great facility and running at impossible speeds. Since then, Jonathan Kent had become wary of anyone seeing his son achieving feats which were fantastical to any normal human being.
"Sorry, dad. I was too busy trying to save the woman," Clark retorted sharply. Often he wondered if his powers were a blessing or a curse.
* * * * * * *
"I heard about your amazing rescue from behind the tavern yesterday," Lana said to Clark, quietly sipping beer from her plastic cup. She hurried past several bodies and away from the crowd of students who were creating a crude mosh-pit of sorts.
"What?" Clark yelled into the blaring music. He hadn't been quite sure why he decided to come to Arnold Wagowski's party as soon as he entered the noisy and bustling house. But when he saw Lana greeting him in a revealing black V-neck and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, he knew he had made the right choice. And, of course, he gulped.
"I said," Lana repeated into Clark's ear loudly, "that I heard about you rescuing that woman from behind the tavern." She beamed at Clark with what he discerned as wonder and slight pride.
Clark returned her smile. "I just happened to be there. It's disgusting, the lengths that some men will go to have a woman who doesn't want him."
"What?" Lana called to him. She pointed to the tall stereo speaker beside them and gestured for them to go out to the patio, where there were less sweaty bodies. "It feels much better out here. Cooler, for one thing."
Clark agreed as he leaned beside her against the railing. He looked inside of the house and saw Pete dancing with Marcia, his date. Go Pete, he thought to himself. He was always glad to see his friends having a good time. If only he could have convinced Chloe to come. She seemed willing at first, but then she had mentioned something about distraction ruining admission—whatever that meant. Chloe, the enigma, he joked in his mind.
"I remember going to parties like these with Whitney. God, I was always so bored. He had his football buddies and I had my friends from cheerleading. Still, I always felt so out of place," Lana explained to Clark. Over the last two years, they had both began to confide in one another. Clark was surprised that Lana was actually interested in his life on the farm and about his seemingly banal goals in life. Now, Lana was deliberately pushing her body closer to his and looking at him intently with that permeating stare of hers. They could still hear the music coming from inside of the house. A slow, sultry track came on and Lana felt that this was the time to ignite something between the two of them.
"The only time I ever have fun at these things is when Chloe, Pete, and I all go together. We usually spend most of the time making fun of people dancing like amateur strippers or drunken red-necks throwing themselves into one another." Clark laughed as he recounted the many times Chloe had said something completely hilarious about the meatheads in their school. She could definitely cut a person down when she wanted to, at times even inadvertently. It was her sarcastic humour that not many people would understand.
"I like this song," Lana said, interrupting Clark's thoughts. "Do you want to dance?"
Did she even have to ask? Clark nervously put his arms around Lana's slender waist as she slid her arms around his neck. The rhythmic beat resounded from the house and onto the patio, moving through the floorboards and into the two bodies swaying to the music.
"You know, Clark," Lana said. "We've been playing this game for a while. We both know how we feel about each other. Don't you ever wonder what would happen if we took the next step?" She peered into his eyes curiously. She wasn't being coy; the idea had been giving her a lot of wrinkles and goosebumps recently.
Clark cleared his throat. "Yes" was all he could stammer.
"I'm not good at this," she said jovially. "I know we've become good friends, but when I look at you I see someone with whom I really want to be close."
"We are close, Lana," Clark replied naively.
Lana giggled. "No, closer than that." She gradually moved onto her toes and used her hand to push Clark's head down to meet hers. "Like this." She pressed her lips onto his and she felt a burst of sensation running through her body. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Electricity, and not the emotional but physical kind, sent a bolt of current running through her mouth to her toes and her fingertips. So this is what it felt like to kiss the mysterious Clark Kent; the feeling was out of this world.
Clark responded to Lana's kiss and gently parted his lips as his tongue found hers. It was unreal. It was his fantasy come true. Years of waiting and dreaming had led up to this point as they stood there entwined in the other's body, eyes closed, hands grasping, and tongues touching. He felt giddy, as though he were back in grade eight and merely imagining what it would be like to French kiss the sought-after Lana Lang. And now he was doing it.
Finally, after minutes of kissing and breathing and kissing again, Clark moved away from Lana, searching her expression for some sort of reason. "Lana, I…" Right then, he saw her in the reflection of the window—Chloe was behind them.
"Hey, Chloe," Lana greeted her cheerfully, still holding onto Clark's hand. She wasn't being smug, though she knew she had won over Chloe's lifelong crush. It was obvious to everyone but Clark. That was his way, though. He was so modest and unaware of people's desires. That was the main thing Lana adored about him. He wasn't like the proud, egomaniacal Whitney whom she had dated for years on end.
"Hi, guys," Chloe said too sweetly as she refused to look Clark in the eye. She headed into the house with a quick wave and scurried off to find Pete.
"I'm glad, Clark."
"Huh?" Clark replied, as he watched an equivocally defeated Chloe rush through the front door.
"I said that I'm glad, Clark," Lana repeated. She raised her hand to caress his hot cheek and finally got his attention, something she never really had to work for throughout the years she had known him. "After all of those obstacles we had thrown before us, we can be together now."
Clark nodded skeptically as he bent down to kiss her soft lips once again. It was his fantasy turned reality. But why did the dream suddenly feel so uncomfortably real?