Part 2: the good with the bad

Well the universe is a cruel little place. What else could explain how Lana hadn't taken much convincing at all, in fact she seemed to be excited at the very idea. She was completely frazzled when they finally arrived. Clark had forgotten how overbearing Nell could be. So basically Lana was up for anything that allowed her to be away from her Aunt, who was in full organizing mode, for several hours. Worse, she and Chloe dragged him down to Village district and made him purchase a black tee that he swore was much too tight. He relented when he saw the way Lana kept eyeing him in it.

So now he stood outside a club that to him looked like nothing more than a giant warehouse on the edge of town. If it weren't for the black door with the name of the club imprinted in small letters on it, and the swell of people spilling out into the street, you'd just think you made a wrong turn. The music pulsed from inside, making the ground beneath them vibrate with every bass beat. Clark felt like he'd just been pushed into the Twilight Zone, where everyone was ten times cooler than him and he was a sacrificial lamb, and the black lights in the club would reveal that he really wore flannel underneath the black tee that would not stop creeping up his abdomen.

"Stop pulling on it, you'll stretch it." Chloe slapped his hand.

"That's the idea."

She gave him an exasperated look, while continuing to search the crowd for the twins and Casey. "You're a very good-looking guy Clark, stop pretending you're not."

He glared at her. "That's not the point.."

She sighed. "Look, even Lana loved your outfit, so would you please relax and enjoy being hot for once?"

"Chloe.."

"Enough Clark...Oh look, there they are." She pulled him to catch up with the others who were standing near the entrance waving wildly. He stole a glance at his cell phone again. Lana got roped into running a last minute errand for Nell and said she would call when she was on her way back. He really didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't let Chloe meet up with people she barely knew on her own, and there was no talking either of them out of going. He decided to just grit his teeth and say as little as possible to the .

"Well I see farmboy decided to go all casual." His fake smile faltered just a little, and Clark smirked—maybe he should take Chloe's advice. Trace wore a dark silk button down and black jeans with some strange sparkly belt, though most people in line were dressed more like Clark.

Chloe went to join Mason, and Casey ushered them all towards her brother who was working the door. She grabbed Clark's arm loosely and whispered to him. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"She'll be here later, she'll call when she gets here. Should I just come back outside and meet her?"

Casey didn't respond, she just hugged her brother, and he swept back the rope and let them all in.

Clubs are very loud, and crowded, and hot, those were the only things registering in Clark's brain as they threaded their way through the crowded room. Sweaty flesh and fabric brushed up against him as he made his way to the clearing near the bar, with Trace leading the way. Casey was holding his hand, and Mason had his hands around Chloe's waist guiding her forward. He felt like the bass drum was inside of his head pounding away, and he couldn't hear anything Trace kept yelling back in their general direction. Finally he felt a rush of cool air as they made it away from the dance floor. Clark sought out the bar and leaned against it, trying to make sense of his surroundings. For this vantage the bodies writhing on the dance floor looked like a giant mass of energy moving in unison. He envied their freedom, and for a moment he wished he could shed his skin and move with such abandonment.

"You going out there?"

He turned to see Casey leaning next to him. He shook his head and smiled.

"You sure? I bet you're a great dancer."

He laughed a little. "That wouldn't be a safe bet."

Casey went to move in closer, but Trace suddenly appeared, squeezing himself in between them.

"Come on Casey, all Kent here probably knows is line dancing, dance with me instead."

Casey gave him a very annoyed, exasperated look. "Um..I'm going to find the ladies room...I'll be back." She squeezed her way past them and disappeared into the crowd.

Trace looked after her a little dumbfounded, then just shrugged, and slapped Clark on the back. Clark kept his fists clenched at his side.

"So farm-boy I promised to buy you a drink."

"Its ok, I don't drink."

"Not even beer?" Clark shook his head. It was bad enough Chloe had deserted him to dance with Mason; he wasn't in the mood to put up with Trace too. Clark thought maybe he could freeze him out and he'd get the picture and leave him alone, but subtlety was lost on him.

"Let me buy you something cold to drink then, a promise is a promise, and I don't go back on my word."

"Fine."

Trace went to clap him on the back again, but Clark moved this time, giving him a sharp look. He squeezed his fists tighter together, willing them to behave.

Trace seemed to take the hint, and tried to laugh. He then turned abruptly away from Clark, calling the bartender over to order an iced tea. Then he smirked at Clark and walked away.

Clark took the tall cool glass when the bartender handed it to him. He rested the glass against his forehead for a moment—the crowd was pushing closer and the heat was almost oppressive. He downed the tea in one long chug and nearly choked. It burned when it hit his throat and he knew something was very very wrong. He looked at his empty glass with the lemon wedge sitting dejectedly at the bottom. It looked like iced tea, but iced tea doesn't burn his throat—or maybe it does if his mother didn't make it?

He asked the bartender to bring him a cold water, and sat down on the stool. The ice tea wasn't helping to cool him off; in fact it seemed to make things worse. He tugged at his shirt collar, wondering why it was suddenly one hundred degrees in there. Maybe he should go outside, it was much cooler out there, he just needed to find Chloe and tell her. He got off the stool and the room suddenly tilted, making him grab the bar to keep from falling.

"Whoa, go easy guy, those things are potent. I've never seen anyone chug a Long Island like that before. You should probably wait before you order another."

Long Island? What was he…Oh God! Clark had a vague memory of drinking a Long Island Iced Tea during his summer of hedonism two years ago on a dare, except then he had his powers then and alcohol had no effect on him. But now...he felt…well he felt good, and woozy, and his head was spinning and he was really going to kill Trace as soon he could feel his feet.

He just needed to concentrate and try his best to walk in a straight line. Chloe was out there somewhere, or maybe he could find Casey. What if he was drunk? But he couldn't be drunk, one drink didn't make you drunk, but he sure felt like how he'd seen lots of drunken people look. Clark shook his head hard, there had to be a way to get control of the situation. Just because he drank alcohol didn't mean he had to give into its affects—mind over matter, he just had to focus and he'd be fine. Walking really was hard. He started to push his way through the throng of people dancing wildly, when he stumbled, almost falling to the ground, where he'd surely be trampled to death.

Before he could make contact with the spinning floor, someone grabbed his arm tightly.

"Watch it handsome, don't fall." He turned to see a very attractive woman holding on to him with both hands. He should probably say thank you, but his tongue couldn't seem to form the simple phrase

"Let me help you." She steered him away from the crowd, and ordered him to sit back down on the barstool. "Now where were you going? Do you want to dance?"

Clark shook his head, which caused him to get even dizzier. "No…I just...I need to find Chloe."

She smiled at him. She was really very close he thought. "Is Chloe your girlfriend?"

"No, we're just friends, she would like more, but I just don't feel that way, but she's been a good.." Why was he talking so much?

She just nodded, laughing softly in a way that he found really very cute. He grinned at her, knowing he probably looked like an idiot.

"Well let's get you somewhere more comfortable ok?" She helped him step off the stool, and led him towards the back of the club.

He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he should shouldn't be going off with some woman he didn't know, because he had a girlfriend, who even if she wasn't there was still his girlfriend, and she'd be pissed if she knew some gorgeous woman in a very shimmery top, that he couldn't seem to keep from touching, was taking him who knows where. But his feet wouldn't listen—they definitely wanted to follow her because they liked the way her long dark hair swung against her naked back catching the light.

"Where are we going?"

"Some place away from all that activity, where we can relax."

He looked down at his feet and commanded them to stop. "I should really find my friends..."

"Your friends will be there." She grabbed hold of his arm, as they reached a roped off area. A very large man dressed in black, surpassing Clark's height by two inches easily, let them in with a slight nod. His feet clearly had a mind of their own.

Suddenly they were plunged into an even darker world, full of dim lights and overstuffed velvet. The music inside the smaller room was mellow and played at a low hum; it was like the rest of the club didn't exist. He settled back on one of the soft plush sofas, loving the weightless feeling of his body as he leaned his head back to look at the lights twinkling against the black ceiling. He wasn't sure when he developed this fascination with lights exactly.

He felt pressure against his thigh and he turned to find the gorgeous woman with the shimmery shirt and pretty dark hair—he really should ask her name—leaning over him, placing a drink in his hand.

"Oh...no I really...I shouldn't...", as he reached to take it from her.

But his hand didn't listen any better than his feet, as it tilted the glass to his lips. The sweet liquid slipped down his throat, not burning at all this time, and he smiled at the nice warm feeling in his stomach.

"What's your name?"

She ran a hand along his cheek. "It doesn't matter. You're very pretty you know. My friend is going to just love you. I really hit the jackpot tonight"

He tried to shake his head, but it just wobbled loosely on his neck. "Your friend?"

A faint warning buzzer went off in his head, but he ignored it and took another long gulp of his drink. Maybe roped off dark rooms were supposed to spin, he wasn't sure. His feet should really let him take control this time. He tried to get up. Air...air was probably what he needed. In movies they always gave the drunk people air, or was it water?

She smiled "Now where exactly are you running off to?" She pushed him back down, which made the room swim violently, and she leaned over him, parting his lips with her tongue.

"Maybe I need to give you a reason to stay."

The alarms went off in his head again, this time louder, sounding very much like "Lana!"—but none of his body parts were cooperating, and his mouth moved against hers, opening wider to accept her tongue. He wanted to move when he felt the zipper on his jeans being pulled down, he really did, but she pressed her leg against his and slipped her hand inside and her mouth worked against his throat. His whole body flushed hot, and he knew he needed to tell her to stop, but it felt incredible as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through him. He leaned his head back, trying to gain some focus, but it was pointless, he couldn't even feel his head anymore.

"Clark?"