Sparks Fly
A DC fanfiction by Andrew Joshua Talon
DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan-based work of prose. Superman, Livewire, Batman and all other characters and worlds are the property of Warner Brothers and DC Comics. Please support the official release.
Miserable, wet, humiliated, and without shoes. Not how Leslie had intended to end this evening.
The firefighters were still putting out the flames from the restaurant several floors above, as she sat on the sidewalk. She felt familiar hands slide a sports jacket over her shoulders, and looked up at the wan smile on Clark's face. He was just as wet as her, but she was wearing a lot less.
The ambulances and firetrucks shielded her from the crowd, but she could hear the calls of paparazzi who regularly snapped shots of her. As well as more reporters, all clamoring for a story. Yeah, she was with a reporter but he wasn't like them.
"How are you doing?" Clark asked kindly. She groaned, closing her eyes tightly.
"How do you think I'm doing?" She hissed back. He sat down next to her, and wrapped a large arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his warm, firm body, and sighed deeply.
"I'm not having a good day," she admitted. Clark nodded, and rested his chin on her head.
"Yeah. It's not that great for me, either," he said.
It had started so promisingly: She'd texted him where and when to meet her, and how to dress. She'd selected her best little black dress-A hot number that showed off her generous cleavage and left barely anything else to the imagination. She'd gone with her contacts and a blonde wig-The perfect disguise, as nobody was going to be looking too hard at her face.
Finally, she hadn't told Lenny about her plans. She'd just told him she was going home and not to bother her. He knew the drill.
The restaurant was four star, with a gorgeous view of Metropolis' skyline. She also knew thanks to her contacts with the local paparazzi that they'd be after Lex Luthor on a date with some fashion designer at a five star restaurant across town.
It was perfect… Until it wasn't.
"I gave the statement to the police officer," Clark said quietly. "You want to get out of here?"
"Desperately," Leslie muttered. Clark took a deep breath, and lifted her up to her feet. She clung onto him as they headed away, into a nearby alley. They made it to a maintenance door. Leslie sighed as Clark lifted his glasses up.
"It'll be locked, I'll bet," she said, reaching out to try the handle. To her surprise, it was unlocked-And very warm. She opened the door and went through as Clark held it open for her. "Thank God for shitty maintenance standards."
"Yeah," Clark said. Leslie shook her head, again pressing herself against Clark's warm body. He again wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked into the dark, dry car park.
They found Clark's car: A race red Holt Motors Corvus coupe. He opened the side door for her, and she slid in silently. He walked around, got into the driver's seat, started it up and headed out. They left the car park, and were soon on the elevated highways of Metropolis. Leslie watched the lights of the city pass by, buried in Clark's jacket.
They finally came to a stop outside her apartment. They sat in silence for a time, only the quiet hum of the motor filling the cabin.
Clark finally sighed heavily.
"I'm sorry," he said. Leslie started, and looked at him in confusion.
"You're sorry? You didn't do anything," Leslie said, "I mean, those paparazzi barged in and started snapping photos… And their shitty lithium batteries burst into flames all at once… Causing that fire..."
Clark grimaced, looking even more guilty.
"Even so-" He tried. Leslie shook her head violently.
"No, no, look," Leslie said, reaching out to put her hand on his strong arm, "this? This wasn't you. This is all me." She sighed and leaned back, looking up through the clear canopy of the coupe. She sucked in a deep breath, and let it out as a bitter laugh.
"Being a celebrity isn't all it's cracked up to be," she said. "I know, shit, I've got money and I'm financially secure. Fuck, I would never complain about that. I influence millions of people a day. Maybe some of them? I can make their lives a little better. But every time I want to be normal, that fucking reality intrudes and…" She spread her open hands out helplessly, and dropped them into her lap.
Leslie shook her head, and leaned away from Clark. She pressed a hand to her temple, a headache pounding against the front of her skull.
"No, this was all me," Leslie sighed. "I'm really sorry, Clark. I just… I mean, you're not just a taste of normality for me. I'm not using you for that. I… I really do care about you."
Clark hesitated, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. It also seemed to bend under his fingers-Wow he must have been worked up. He then looked at her, and smiled.
"I care about you too," he said, "and believe it or not? I understand what it's like to want to be normal."
Leslie nodded. "But we're not," she said softly. "I mean, I'm a celebrity, and you're…"
Clark sucked in a deep breath.
"A reporter who keeps getting wrapped up in crazy shit to do your job," she finished. Clark was still, and then slowly nodded.
"Yeah… That's me," he said. He looked at her. "So… Should we just not try?"
He said it as calmly as he could, but she could feel the agitation and desperation in his voice. See it in how stiff he was, like he was trying to stand up straight against the storm rolling in.
Leslie felt raw passion erupt inside her. Anger, determination, and desire. She slid up into his lap, and planted herself down hard. He stared at her in surprise, just before she grabbed his tie and pulled him into a toe curling kiss. Her tongue sought out his, and while it was frozen for a moment it began wrestling back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts up against his broad chest, rubbing herself up and down him.
Finally, she broke the kiss, panting hard for breath as a string of saliva drooped between their mouths. Clark was panting hard too, his cheeks red. Leslie shook her head.
"Fuck. That," Leslie growled. "I want some happiness, Clark. We deserve some happiness. Maybe it'll be hard, but I… I'll work for it. If you want to." She held him more tightly.
"Do you want to?" She asked.
He was silent, still. That burst of fiery passion was nearly squelched, as he seemed like stone. She felt her heart fall into her belly.
Shit. She'd come on too strong. She'd chased him away, and now he was…
He was wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against him. He rested his nose against hers, and looked deeply into her eyes.
"It's not going to be easy," he whispered. "There are things about me… I mean, you might not understand. You might-"
"I might," Leslie whispered, nuzzling him and tugging at his collar, "but let's deal with that when it happens. For now…?" She resumed kissing him passionately, and her inner fire came roaring back as he responded in kind. In fact, he was so good she had to pull back to get some breath back, her chest heaving.
"Haa… Haa… You're… Pretty good at that," she gasped. Clark actually blushed.
"I don't… Have a lot of experience," he admitted. "And it's been a while-"
She rested a finger against his lips, and shook her head with a smirk.
"None of that," she whispered. "Look, just let go and go for it."
"Well," Clark muttered. She laughed with a cocky smirk.
"Come on Smallville. I'm a big girl, treat me like it! I can take it! And hey, if you need to learn more," she rubbed herself up against him, "I am a very, very patient teacher. So come on."
Leslie smirked at him.
"Hit me with your best shot-"
The next morning…
The sunlight shone brightly through the blinds, and Leslie found her consciousness returned as the beams washed over her eyes. She was staring up at the ceiling, lying in her bed.
She was fairly certain she had limbs at some point, but that was a distant memory. She was also pretty sure her mouth could make expressions other than a broad, open smile, but she wasn't able to make it do anything but that. All she had on was that smile, and a thin silk sheet.
Clark Kent, dressed and coiffed properly, slid into view over her. He smiled warmly, reaching down to cup her cheek. She rubbed up against his palm happily.
"Good morning," he said brightly. "How are you?"
"Uhhh… Greeeattt," she managed.
"I called Lenny on your phone," Clark said, "that you'd be out today. He wasn't happy but he shifted some stuff around. You can talk to him more later."
"Yeeeeahhh," Leslie moaned. Clark reached down to take her into his arms, and helped her sit up. She held onto him tightly, humming softly and happily at the feel of his body. He hugged her back, and kissed her chastely on her lips. He helped her lean back against a pillow, and let her go. She leaned back, her limbs again resuming their impression of a marionette's.
He set a tray in front of her, with a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and coffee all prepared. He beamed at her, looking as relaxed and happy as she felt.
"I also made you breakfast," he said, "not as good as my mom's, but plenty of it."
"Thank youuu," she warbled. Clark leaned over and kissed her again. She melted into it, again wrapping her arms around his neck. "Mmmm~..."
"But I gotta go," he said, after breaking the kiss, "there's something big going on, and I have to deal with it."
Leslie pouted, but another nuzzle from Clark made her giggle.
"Okay~," Leslie said. She nuzzled him back. "Be careful~."
"I will," he promised. He smiled, and reluctantly pulled away. She whined a bit, but finally let him go. He headed out, the door shutting behind him. She looked down at the incredible breakfast, and sighed happily.
She knew she was love drunk. After a night like that, who wouldn't be? But combined with everything else…
"I think I love him," she admitted.
And next time, shit goes south. And hard.
