Chapter Twelve

Pete Ross got home, and checked to see if there were any phone messages from Erica Fox. Not yet, but one stood out much like the person that sent it, Clark, did when Pete invited him over during the annual Ross Family Reunion. Pete chuckled at that memory. He listened to Clark's message.

"PETE! Its Me...I know you probably just got home, but can you come and help me get ready for tonight? Please? I...I don't know what to do..."

Pete smiled. He was happy that his friend finally stepped up and asked Chloe out. The poor girl was infatuated with Clark, and sometimes it seemed like he was from another planet around her, ignoring her advances. Pete would listen on the phone to Chloe's laments: Clark could save her, but not date her; he would spend hours with her, but not quality hours with her, the kind she desperately desired. At least now, Pete thought, he didn't have to hear any more of Chloe's whining. Downside: now he had to hear Clark's. He heard Clark's groveling on the message; "Dude...I can't talk to the girls like you can...I can't dress stylish like you...you have those skills...I don't..."

Pete smiled; Clark might have the height and the body that Pete envied, but Pete slept good at night knowing his friend lacked his pimpin' ways with the ladies and certainly wasn't the clotheshorse that he was either.

"I don't wanna sound like a big dumb wuss," Clark said, already venturing dangerously close to Big Dumb Wussville. "But I need your help getting ready for this date. I'm totally sorry I didn't take your advice with Chloe before and totally sorry for rambling now." Pete shook his head. Their were times Clark was super confident, like when he, Pete, and Chloe were on the hunt for a "meteor freak," and times when he was too mild mannered. This was a mild mannered moment. Pete listened and heard the deal-maker:

"Mom'll make us something to eat," Clark promised. "Please call Me...please help. Bye."

Pete grinned. He had a slight crush on Clark's mom and loved anything that she made in her kitchen. He called Clark and Clark answered on the first half ring.

"Pete?" Clark said frantically. "Is this Pete? Pete?"

"Yes, Clark, it's Pete...get out all your gear out so we can figure out whatcha gunna wear," Pete said. He laughed when he heard Clark's "Sweet!"

Ten minutes later, Pete and Clark sat silently in Clark's bedroom, eating what his mom made and looking down on Clark's bed. All of Clark's ideas of what to wear were laid out on the bed, nicely folded. Pete guessed his mom did that. Pete chomped down on the delicious polish sausage in a bun sandwich and looked at the sea of red and blue: 20 flannels with patterns of checkers big and little, stripes thick or thin or just plain colored; 5 red shirts and 5 blue shirts (with or without pockets) and 10 denims. Oddly, to Pete, a yellow sweater was also on the bed.

"It looks like those gangs, the Crips and the Bloods, left you their laundry," Pete joked after he swallowed the chomp. Clark laughed and nodded.

"Let's narrow down what I should wear," Clark said and laid down his plate.

"I hate to break it to you, Clark," Pete said looking at his best bud, "but you wear just two colors. That's as narrow as its gets."

"SO!...They...just seem right to wear," Clark said like a fussy kid. He loved those colors and grabbed a flannel with both of those hues. He held it up to see if it passed Pete's eye for style. Pete shook his head to Clark's sadness.

"Dude...2 of those flannels are the same," Pete said, pointed at the two flannels and laughed.

"Really?" Clark looked and Pete was right. He had two of a red flannel with crimson stripes on it.

"I used to get so many," Clark explained. "They get shredded battling..."freaks." Clark said with distaste, because he felt responsible for bringing the meteorites to earth in the first place.

"Don't look sad, dude," Pete said looking at the expression on Clark's face. "It's just a flannel. I seriously thought you had more flannels though."

"I did. But I have one word about that, man... Chloe," Clark said and wondered if he should give her the extra flannel or just set it out when she comes over and let it walk away in her knapsack.

"She's a total thief, Bro," Pete agreed. "I showed her a letter I wrote to Erica Fox. She grabbed it two days ago and held it ransom for a 4 pack of Starbucks frappacchino. I hope karma kicks her ass today."

"But at least she gives your stuff back," Clark said enviously, deciding to let Chloe snitch the flannel. "I have to trade my stuff for my stuff." Pete just looked at his tall friend incredulously. "And Mom said she and Dad weren't going to buy me new clothes until I get some shirts and flannels back from Chloe," Clark explained further, holding up a shirt and flannel to Pete, and tossed them aside when Pete shook his head. "So a few nights ago, she and I are in the loft, kicking back on the couch, and Chloe just laughed in my face when I asked for two flannels back, saying I better get used to the idea of running around naked." In Clark's mind he saw her snarky smile. "I said 'naked? I still have pants,' and she said, "Are you challenging me?'...Right then her dad honks, and I walk her to the car and see her off."

Pete grinned at Clark, who stared at a picture of Chloe with a smile on his face.

"Later, when I called to make sure she got home safe, she asks all cutesy, 'missing anything?' ...Pete, a pair of jeans were gone FROM MY ROOM ! Dude, I swear, she never left my sight. I have no clue how she snitched them!"

"You're not the most observant person at times, are you?" Pete chuckled. Clark shrugged. But he saw a happy glint in Clark's eye while he told his story that made Pete wonder if Clark was really that gullible, really that oblivious, or really just loved playing mouse to Chloe's cat. Clark showed him flannel after flannel, shirt after shirt, mixing and matching, and Pete shook his head over and over.

"Well, that all of them," Pete announced. Clark tossed the last flannel onto the floor. Clark fell face first onto the bed, and shook the room. Pete sat on the edge of the bed. "Chloe's seen you in all of this. We all have. Just get a new shirt, Bro."

"I'm already using my all of my allowance for the carnival," Clark said and rolled over. "For tickets and to buy Chloe drinks and food if she wants."

"Don't you save any money?" Pete asked, handing Clark the plate he laid down.

"Not really," Clark admitted. "Chloe and I pool our money and blow it on stuff for each other over the weekends." He bite into his sausage dog.

"Really?" Pete said.

"Yeah," Clark smiled. "She got me this. Check this out." He grabbed a picture frame adorned with 2 playing card aces, and said 'A Winning Pair'. It held a picture of Chloe and Clark in their swimsuits (Chloe in cut-offs, a white tank and a Hawaiian floral print bikini top. Clark wore long blue surf shorts) that Pete took during summer. "Chloe said a special picture like that needed a special frame. I like it."

"Next time you save a life, ask for a reward," Pete said, now a little envious of Clark and Chloe's closeness.

"I got hooked up at the video store," Clark smiled. "Look." He pulled out a laminated card from the video store that had special printing that said "Lifetime Free Rentals Up To $15.00". The owner's son was saved by Clark during the summer, and the owner graciously gave Clark the card.

"Score!" Pete yelled, surprised, looking at the card. He gave Clark a high five swat.

"Yeah!" Clark shouted back. "Plus, the owner always gives Me and Chloe a bag of microwaveable popcorn, 2 boxes each of Twizzlers, a box of Raisinets for me, a box of Milk Duds for Chloe, and bottles of soda for us!"

"But unless he can hook you up with a 'Video Korner' shirt," Pete said curtly, "the card won't help you tonight." Pete was surprised that Clark didn't tell him he had the card for a while it seemed, or tell him that he was using it with Chloe. She didn't even mention it. Pete felt a little hurt.

"Yeah," Clark said sadly, his happy balloon shot down by Pete. He looked at the clothes on the floor. "Maybe I'll wear the red shirt with the red and blue flannel."

"No. No. No." Pete said, swinging back into helpful mode. "Chloe let it slip to Erica and Erica slipped it to me that Chloe thought you looked HOT in blue."

"Really? Hot?" Clark smiled. "Blue what?"

"Blue anything," Pete laughed. Clark dove to the floor, and started to sort the blue clothes from the red. Pete chomped on his sausage dog.

Suddenly the door swung open.

A certain suave bald man dressed nattily in black walked in.

"Clark! I want that rematch game of pool...let's go rack up some balls and put pool sticks between...," Lex Luthor said, entering Clark's domain without care or warning. He saw Clark on all fours, looking back at Lex over his shoulder. "Between...between," Lex stammered.

"You'd think that with all that private schooling you'd be taught to knock on a door," Pete said with an edge.

"Oh...Peter...hello," Lex said coldly, noticing Pete on the bed.

"Hey, Lex," Clark said, hopped up and grabbed his plate.

"Really, go about what you were doing," Lex said, voice like warmed massage oil. Pete set aside his plate with disgust. "I heard of laundry day, but never actually witnessed it" Lex said, voice inquistive.

"It's not laundry day," Clark laughed. Lex nodded. "Besides, I'm done," Clark said. Lex kept an impassive face despite the pain. He watched Clark eat some chips.

"What's in the buns that smells delicious?" Lex asked.

"I WAS eating a polish sausage." Pete snapped.

"Yeah. They're great," Clark said and took a bite.

"Scottish sausage is what you should really partake, Clark," Lex hinted. "Again, why the sorting?"

"I am getting ready for tonight. I have THAT date," Clark said with a grin.

"Oh yes, THAT date" Lex said smiling back.

"Yes, a date. With a GIRL," Pete said with a smile. Lex gave him a smile back, and cursed him with his thoughts. "Clark finally asked Chloe out."

"Yes, I know all about Clark's love for Chloe, Peter. He called and told me last night," Lex revealed. Pete choked and glared at Lex with watery eyes. Clark's best friend drank some pop to wash down the glob in throat. Pete didn't know that Clark told Lex he loved Chloe. Or that he had called Lex about the date. Clark didn't call him. He smouldered and nodded at his friend. "Good for her," Lex said. He looked at Clark. "Why the division between the red and blue?"

"Chloe likes me wearing blue," Clark said and put all the clothes on the chair he sat on. "And I want to please her."

"As well as you should," Lex said.

"Pete, what do I wear from here?" Clark asked and held up a shirt.

"Were I to dress you down...I mean up, I'd...," Lex started.

"He asked me, ALEX," Pete snapped. He remembered Chloe calling about how she spent the day dressing up Clark. "And Clark isn't a dress up-toy. For you, that is."

Lex took a step.

Pete stood up.

Pete hated the Lex because Lex's father, Lionel, bought the controlling share of Ross Creamed Corn Amalgamated (makers of "The Creamiest Corn" brand), and removed the Ross family from the board of directors. While Lionel gave the Ross' a modest buyout, now Pete's family struggle with their now-small farm. Pete took his anger out on Lex. Lex simply suffered Pete because he was Clark's friend, and he parried with Pete to pass time. Clark looked at both with startled doe eyes. He hated being caught between Lex and Pete; they always seem to bicker at each other.

"I NEED HELP WITH CLOTHES!" Clark shouted. Lex and Pete looked at him. "Can't you two just help me and not squabble?"

"Truce?" Pete said.

"Detente, Peter." Lex whispered and made himself comfortable on Clark's bed, laying back on the pillows. Pete scooted away.

"Ok," Clark said with a with a wary look at them. He knew it was going to be an uneasy truce. "Pete said go with the blue because Chloe likes me in it. Is there anything in this pile that I can wear?"

"We already picked through that, Bro," Pete reminded and sat down. "Nothing is going to pop up for you."

"Too bad," Lex said. Pete shot a look at him. Lex grinned.

"Dang," Clark said and dropped the shirt from his hand. "Lex, any ideas?"

"I have SACK full of ideas," Lex said easily. Pete seethed. "But it's unfortunate, however, I can't suggest black on black. Black is so stylish."

"Once you go black," Pete boasted, "you never go back."

"I hear that," Lex agreed and they smiled at each other. They realized what they were doing and quickly looked back at Clark, their friendly moment done.

"Clark's problem is they don't make a dressy flannel," Pete said. He and Lex chuckled.

"Why don't they?" Clark sighed.

"Your trademark rugged-farmboy look just won't do on this First Date, Clark," Lex reasoned to his friend. "Right, Peter?" Pete actually nodded. "And I won't criticize your desire to limit the colors in your palette. I wear only one color," Lex said, brushing his black silk shirt, black leather belt, and black silk pants with the back of his fingertips with one smooth motion. Clark smiled. "But I see the dilemma not so much as the clothes here as the much as the condition of the clothes here."

"Oh," Clark said and sat between Lex and Pete. Pete nodded again; he hated when Lex made sense.

"Chloe likes seeing you in these items. May even love how you look," Lex said, sitting now next to Clark. "But think with me: you're wearing these exact same clothes doing hot sweaty farm work in the Sun, bailing hay, feeding the cows, roping the horses, cleaning the stables, all of your muscles flexing, bulging." Lex stopped and took a breath. "All that breaks down the fabric, correct?"

"Yeah," Clark said, though he thought of Chloe wearing a wet white tank top and denim cutoffs doing farm chores. That was a favorite fantasy of Clark's. Pete thought of Erica Fox the whole time.

"Therein lies the problem. All of your clothes are nice, Clark, but sun-faded," Lex told his friend. "Once they were bright and new. Now they are serviceable."

"I hate to say it, but Mr. Clean is right," Pete admitted.

"Clark, you know you bore me to death talking about Chloe," Lex reminded Clark with a smile and let Pete's remark slide. Clark smiled back. "How she has style. How she has flair. How you think she's an original. And tonight is a special night for her and there is NOTHING in Smallville for you to buy that could possibly complement to what she could think of and wear."

"Nothing at Fordman's?" Clark asked. Hoped. Lex rolled his eyes.

"Nothing at Wal-Mart, dude," Pete said when Clark looked at him.

"I'm so screwed," Clark said and fell back on his bed. He covered his head with a pillow.

"Yeah, Bro," Pete whispered. "You are."

"Not so," Lex said. "I have an idea."

"What's that?" Clark said, pulling the pillow away.

"Gentlemen," Lex said and stood in front of Clark and Pete. "We go to Metropolis...My treat...I'll have shoppers ready...we will shop for the right clothes in the right boutiques...to awe Miss Sullivan the way she awes you, Clark...and have you back in time to get the clothes fashionably wrinkled."

"Really?" Clark said. He was always stunned with Lex's generosity towards him. But this was unreal. Lex nodded. "How?"

"My helicopter," Lex said easily, like he were to say "my car."

"Pete, wanna go to Metropolis?" Clark asked, looking at Pete. He pleaded silently.

"I hate to say it, Bro, but it's a bitchin' idea," Pete smiled. The boys each took a bite of their snacks.

"Sadly, I must call an end to this sausage fest. Let's go," Lex said, his heart breaking. He headed out the doorway. Clark and Pete followed.