Hey all.
I really wanted to get this chapter out a lot sooner than I did, but everything has just been so hectic! My life is insane and I wish I could do something about it, but. . . I really can't.
Man, university sucks.
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This time, Clark wakes up first. It is a hazy awakening. He's not sure exactly where he is at first, but the body he is curled into brings back his memories quite clearly.
It is night, and the only light in the room is the light from the street or the moon, Clark can't tell which.
The glow makes Smiley seem less washed out and more ethereal. He decides she is a night creature, not meant to come out in the day.
In her sleep there is a strange beauty to her. Her black hair gleams, this time soft and tangle-free. Her skin is pale and almost completely unblemished, beyond a scar on her back that she refused earlier to answer any questions about.
Her eyes haunt him. Even closed, he can feel her staring at him from the hollows of her face. He won't admit to fright, but it's not something he's comfortable with just yet.
Instead he thinks about last night.
The memory makes him shiver.
She devoured him. He barely did anything; just let her ride him. He remembered the shocking moment when she pulled away and got off the bed. She reached into the other plastic bag that was sitting on the table and pulled out a box. He didn't bother to question her use of condoms, even though he knew he couldn't get sick.
Right now he feels really good. Like he's meant for this kind of life.
Sex and drugs(red) and rock and roll and all sorts of other things he hasn't even thought of yet.
He know it's there, though. The promise of never-ending freedom and youth. Every time he thinks about it he gets a little thrill, and he can't stop thinking of someone he knew who believed in youth and strength and eternal beauty.
But, like everything else the memory slips by him and he's left grasping at the vague image of smooth shine and sharp wit.
He gets up, not bothering to be gentle about pushing Smiley aside, and heads to the bathroom. He ignores her indignant squeak and shuts the door. When he emerges from the shower he finds her eating another apple.
"What happened to Paddington Bear?" He half-mocks.
"I thought for some reason I was over it, you know, but I guess not." She shrugs, not really answering his question.
"Well, I think we should go for dinner." He announces.
"Where?"
"Get dressed."
"I have to shower first!" She cries indignantly.
"You have twenty minutes or I'm leaving without you." She knows he means for more than just dinner.
They go to the Pancake House.
"Are those all the clothes you have?" He asks her disdainfully.
She looks down at herself. "I had some jeans and a hoodie in my bag but I lost that last night when I was chasing away those thugs."
"How did you lose it?"
"I left it with this girl I was walking with and when I went back she was gone."
Clark frowns. He hasn't had much exposure to street life; he prefers to stay in the glitz and glamour of the upscale club scene. He likes tall blonde women and fast cars. Usually. For some reason he finds Smiley's reality infinitely more exciting. Perhaps because it's less obvious.
He can feel her eyes on him now. He can't meet them. He stares down at his full plate of steak and potatoes, and digs in. He should be famished, Smiley clearly is. She accepted her stack of pancakes with relish when it came, and now she is eating heartily. He doesn't know what he was thinking in his early assessment of some sort of addiction. She's just homeless and hungry.
He doesn't know what he's doing, taking her with him. He won't be able to use his powers most of the time, and he'll have to get rid of her for a while if he plans to make another heist. But last night had been really good. . . It had been something other than the cold and the anger, and he wants more of it.
So he watches her eat, occasionally picking at his own dinner, and thinks about nothing.
When their meal is over, the waitress comes over.
"Would you like me to box that up for you?" She asks.
"Ye-"Smiley begins, but Clark cuts her off.
"That won't be necessary." He smiles at the waitress, tosses a few bills on the table, and grabs Smiley by the wrist. He drags her out of the restaurant but she doesn't protest at the rough treatment. "I'm not tired." He says cheerily. "Are you tired?"
"Not really." He grins and keeps his hold on her arm.
"Okay. Cool." They walk briskly down the street. "You know, I think we need a car."
"A car?"
"Yeah, and I know just the place."
The dealership he went to last time is nowhere near this neighbourhood, but he knows another one, open all night.
Two hours later they are on the road. He doesn't ask her if there's anyone she needs to say goodbye to, or anything she needs to pick up, but he promises himself that in the next town they stop at he'll buy her some new clothes.
Clark had contemplated heading back to Smallville one last time, but now that he has Smiley with him he knows it wouldn't be possible to be as inconspicuous as he needs to be. Instead, as a sort of going-away party for himself, he turns the radio on and blasts it into the car. He grins at Smiley, who smiles back. They listen to the blaring music until they lose the frequency of the city station, and then they drive in silence.
Smiley falls asleep, and Clark listens to the gentle sound of her breathing. He winds up driving almost ten hours straight, and Smiley wakes to the rising sun. She yawns and stretches.
"Mmm. . . What time is it?" She squeaks as she stretches.
"Just after eight." Clark answers.
She looks at him. "Do you want me to take over for a while?"
"I think it's time to break for breakfast. I saw a sign for a town a couple miles ahead. We'll stay there for the day and find a hotel or something for tonight. I want to travel during the day from now on."
"Yeah, alright." She looks out the window, and Clark knows she is looking for the grain elevators common to small farm towns. He wonders where she came from, but he won't ask. He's not planning to ask her anything.
"I've been to Gotham once or twice." She tries to fill the silence. "First when I was halfway through my little festival tour." She doesn't use any kind of hand gestures, and her voice is a blank narration, devoid of colour and feeling. Clark knows she's not really thinking about what she's saying. She's just the type of girl who doesn't like letting silences get awkward. Right now he doesn't mind her chatter; it's keeping him awake. "It was a really cool jazz festival. There were so many people. Bohemians and the ultra chic and everyone you could think of went to the shows. That was where I lost my virginity."
As she says the words, she places her hand in Clark's lap and the car swerves. Smiley giggles.
"Ah." He says. "Smiley." Every time she touches him a fire in him lights up from the inside, but the idea of her being with someone else before him makes his muscles clench and shift.
She runs her palm down and then up his thigh, just grazing his crotch before sliding underneath his t-shirt to caress the skin and scar there. It isn't long before she has her hand on the zipper of his pants and she is pulling gently away from the skin. The sound of the zipper opening is almost enough to do away with Clark's control right there, but he forces self-control.
The car only swerves twice before reaching the town.