Title: What You Want Author: Firecracker Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville, or any of it's characters. No infringement intended.
Rating: I never really got the system, but, i dunno, PG?
Author's note: I've never written Smallville before.
Feedback: Yeah, if you could spare a minute, I'd be happy. Flame if you want, and if you could squeeze in some constructive hints there too, it'd help. Mail me.
Archive: If anyone should want it, archive away. Just send me a little note, so I can go see and feed my ego.

You stare at her when she's walking down the hall, hips swaying, smiling to everyone she sees. She's a picture perfect poster child for what the world wants to be, and she's trapped down here in Smallville. Sighing, you return to your office, to the computer where you'll write your next, brilliant article, because you can turn nothing into something, and within something lies the possibility to create something more.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, you're racking your mind for every detail you've been told, this has to be good. You don't like being negative, even if the negative part was to be pulled away from Metropolis, to come live here.

And you really did think it was going to be hell, because hey, adjustments might be your thing, just never in this scale. But, as you keep reminding yourself, an investigative journalist is an investigative journalist, and changes is what a investigative journalist do, so you forced yourself through it, and when you came out on the other side, you found it wasn't that bad at all.

Ok, so it might be smaller than Metropolis, ok, so getting your outrageous haircuts have become much harder to do, ok, so people here are alittle like you thought they'd be. Townsfolk.

But no matter how hard it ever was, when you first laid eyes on her, you just knew, that somehow, sometime, it would all be worth it. And you're trying so hard, you're doing your best, awaiting your chance, you'll know it when you see it, you've been prepared for so long, watching pink glossed lips shape words that tends to just float around her and soothe you into a content universe of bliss.

Even when you look at her, with her boyfriend, who's a nice guy, but you can't stand him, because she is supposed to be yours, and Clark is drooling, but you really don't pay much attention to that anymore, because her eyes have begun to linger, sometimes, and you know that because you've caught her staring at you in the showers, and sometimes when you're wearing something that shows your legs or cleavage.

You're good, you're the best, and the clues could only lead to one thing; some day, rather soon, you'll get what you want.

The End