She feels a rush of relief when she pulls up in front of the barn and sees that the Kent's truck isn't parked in the drive. She thought that Mr. and Mrs. Kent must be off running errands. It wasn't like she didn't want to see them. They did adore her after all. Or so Mrs. Kent (she never really felt comfortable calling her friends parents by their first name) said in an unexpected burst of emotion; when they were talking about Clark one day while she waited for him to be done with his chores. Mrs. Kent had told her that Clark was lucky to have such a good friend like her, and that she was greatly appreciative for her.
Recalling the memory she thinks that maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to knock on the door and chat for a few minutes before asking for Clark. No, it didn't seem bad at all. But she knew the guilt of prying into Clark's adoption without thinking about how the family would feel about it all would slowly eat away at her in the mask of such a friendly conversation. She's glad again that the truck wasn't in the drive.
She puts her car in park, takes out the keys, and opens the door. A small breeze kicks up as she walks toward the front door of the house, swirling around and wrapping her in a brief sensation of warmth.
She pretends it's Clark's arms.
She knocks on the door and no one answers. Tilting her head in a better attempt to hear what might be going on in the house, Clark sometimes played his stereo too loud when his parents weren't home, but hears nothing. He wasn't there either.
Sighing audibly, she turns from the door and makes her way down the porch and toward the car. She turns her head back every few steps to glance fleetingly at his window. "Just in case." Pausing when she gets to her car, she gives one last fleeting look at the house. It had taken her a long time to get the courage to come here today and confess that she saved all the information she gathered about his adoption. True she dropped the story. She'd kept that much of her promise. But some part of her, something that greatly resembled instinct, but was just covering up something else. Wouldn't let her forget it completely. The circumstances behind the adoption were too strange, too easy, too... Convenient.
Thinking about the whole ordeal had kept her awake at night these past few weeks. The guilt slowly gnawing, questions always forming one on top the other. The simple need of wanting to know what that feeling buried underneath it all really was. It had only come to her last night. Today she knew she had to tell him everything. Whatever everything really meant. She wasn't exactly sure.
But what she did know, what had kept her up till three in the morning to realize. What made her feel like a silly little schoolgirl with a crush. Was her motivations for keeping the adoption information.
She wanted a part of him Lana couldn't touch.
Her hand moves to her stomach at the revulsion of how very petty it sounded. The little green-eyed monster baring its fangs. Still, the reporter in her couldn't deny the truth. Her hands shake when she tries to put the keys in the ignition. Funny, she didn't remember getting back into the car. She sighs and puts her hands in her lap. She's almost glad Clark wasn't home. Thinking had just made her lose her nerve. She puts the folder with all the papers on her lap and tries to start the car again. Staring out the windshield she mumbles a curse at the sight of the barn. She should have checked there first. He spent far more time in the barn than his own room. She gets out of the car again, making sure to bring the folder along.
When she stands in front of the heavy wood doors she doesn't open them right away. She can practically feel him up there. Pacing back and forth in what Mr. Kent called the "fortress of solitude." It's not the most accurate title. People went up there all the time. She thinks Clark came up with the name and used his dad as an excuse not to sound childish.
When she finally opens the door she knows instantly that he's not inside. Most of the time she hated being alone in this barn. It's too big and too creepy at night, filled with all sorts of unexplainable little noises. Strangely, she doesn't hate it this time. She can still feel him here. Ignoring the dank musty smell of damp hay she makes her way toward the stairs.
She looks at the machine (she can never remember what it's called) that's been broken for months now. Clark was pretty vague when she asked how it broke.
"Sometimes things just break," he said.
She swore it looked like it was dropped on something.
She climbs the stairs, boards creaking under her feet with the sound that stairs always make when you walk on them. Running her hand along the rough banister as she reaches the top, she swears when a splinter stabs into her palm. She looks around the loft. She'd been here by herself many times before. Mostly when Clark rushed off to suddenly be a hero like he was some kind of super man. She laughs lightly at how ridiculous the name sounds. Walking in slow circles around the place she traces her fingers over all the little things he kept up here.
He left his backpack on the desk.
She knows better than to look through it. She's already gotten into enough trouble for sticking her nose where it didn't belong. But it's sitting there with its zipper halfway open mocking her curiosity. Shaking her head, she moves toward the telescope, running her fingers gently over the smooth surface. A grin stretches across her lips as she remembers the remark she teased Clark with. Innuendo's aside, he did spend an awful lot of time up here with it. She takes a quick peek through the viewfinder and finds herself staring at Lana's porch. She laughs for a second, her mind filling with hundreds of more ways to tease him. But the laughter fades and is replaced with the unknown feeling buried underneath so many others.
She tilts the telescope up and away from its porch viewing perch. She doesn't think Nell would appreciate being on display and knocks his backpack off the desk for good measure. Moving to the couch she throws herself on it and sighs. She doesn't want to go home. She doesn't want to sit here in the barn by herself either.
Running her hands along the cushions she can feel him on the couch. His warmth, his scent. That odd mix of dirt and soap and cotton. She brings her nose closer to the material and inhales lightly. The hairs on her arms and neck stand on end as she breathes him in.
She remembers the last time she fantasized about being on this couch with him. How he would blush and stammer when she moved closer and told him what she really wanted. How his naive, yet, charming embarrassment would make her want him that much more. She would have to take his hands in hers to get him to touch her. She knows that would most likely be the only way at first.
But only at first.
Once he saw that it was okay. That she wanted him to touch her. He would do just fine on his own.
She smiles at the thought of it.
Of Clark's hands freely roaming across her body. She knows they would be rough and callous.
But the touch...
Oh how she knows how gentle he would be.
Sinking back into the cushions even more she imagines pushing him onto his back, and slowly, achingly pressing herself against him. She would let her face hover mere centimeters above his.
Such a teasing motion.
She knows it would drive him crazy. Knows that their lips being so close yet not touching would be the sweetest torture. How she would bite her lip, enticing him to make the first move. Rolling her eyes in mock frustration when he doesn't. Finally just kissing him on her own and feeling no resistance.
Her hand slides unconsciously across the front of her jeans and she stifles a moan against the heat she feels there. If she were in her room she would let her hand slide underneath the waistband, underneath the false silk of her panties, and finally to the source of ever growing heat and wetness. She's in her right mind enough to know that getting caught masturbating in your friend's barn isn't exactly the best way to spend a Saturday.
She keeps her fingers above the denim.
She can feel her cheeks flush as the fantasy grows richer, feels herself bite her lip to keep more moans from spilling out.
He's on top her now. His lips moving everywhere she wants them too. He's pushing into... Oh god he's...
The sound of her name startles her enough to jerk upright so quickly she nearly falls off the couch.
"Clark?" She asks.
"What are doing up here?" He asks, coming into view just around the back of the couch.
"Um..." She bits her lip, not knowing if he heard her stifled moans. Not knowing how much he saw.
"W-waiting for you," she manages to stammer out.
"Oh," he replies rounding the corner of the couch and moving to sit down next to her. "What's up? Is something wrong?"
"You look a little flushed."
"Oh, um, must be the humidity," she covers.
"It's not that hot outside," he says. His eyes filled with amusement.
"Well you know what they say. It's not the heat..."
"I know the saying."
They sat in silence for a moment. Clark silently is wondering why his friend was acting so strange, and Chloe thinking of more excuses for being here. She knows why, but suddenly being face to face with him, sitting so close when she nearly made herself come just by thinking of being on this couch with him. She didn't think she could stay much longer. She was about to say she was going to go when he picked up the folder that fell to the ground.
"What's this?" He asks, picking it up.
"Clark don't..." She starts.
"These are my adoption papers," he says softly as he flips through the folder.
She closes her eyes and looks away, her eyes stinging with tears and her stomach flipping with shame.
"What are you doing with these?" He asks.
She can hear the anger in his voice. She will not look at him.
"I thought you said you were going to drop this."
She finally opens her eyes and looks at him. She sees the anger flashing in his eyes, but worse, the hurt behind it. He's crushing the folder with his hands and she doesn't blame him. She wants to apologize and say she never meant to hurt him, but knows that it's just the easiest way to end it all. And that his anger at her wouldn't fade with such a simple group of words. Instead she pries the folder from his hands, tough as it was, and lets it fall back onto the floor.
The anger is still apparent in his look, but she braves the force of it and carefully selects her words.
"I know I promised to drop the story," she says. This was harder that she anticipated. "And I did, but..."
"But the information was there Clark. I know you didn't want to know about the whole process, but I know you can admit that it was all a little strange. And well, you know me and strange."
"Just hear me out," she says. "Please?"
He nods and beckons for her to continue.
"I didn't look into it any further. I swear. But all the information I still had. It was there and I... I just couldn't get rid of it."
She turned away, unable to see his face as she knew the next words from her mouth wouldn't bring the best response from him.
"It was something I knew about you that no one else did. Not Pete, not Lex, not... Lana."
"So it was just about you knowing more than someone else?" He asks.
"No!" She denies as she throws her head into her hands. "That's not it. I..."
"I'm not really understanding you right now," he says. "I can't believe you would do this."
"I didn't mean to do it," she says softly. "Honestly. I came here to give it you. I couldn't take it anymore. The stupid guilt from lying to you. Having to sleep like crap for weeks because it kept me up at night. I'm really sorry for lying to you Clark. You have to believe that."
He only looks at her. Unsure of how to take it all.
"I do," he replies after a moment. "But why do you want to know so much Chloe?"
"Because that's who I am," she sighs. "Curiosity is a disease Mr. Kent. If I were a cat I'd be dead by now."
"Well you're definitely on the right career path," he jokes.
She laughs brokenly at his attempt to lighten the mood and she feels him slide closer to her. She picks the folder back up from the floor and hands it to him.
"Here," she says. "Take it. Burn it. Whatever. I don't want it anymore."
He takes the folder from her hands and puts it down on the couch. She feels so dumb as the tears fall down her cheeks, and even worse as she feels his arms wrap around her shoulders. He wasn't supposed to forgive her so easily. It wasn't supposed to work that way.
"Aren't you mad?" She asks, her voice just a whisper.
"I am," he says. "But at least you confessed. You do get some honesty points here Chloe. I am mad but it'll pass."
"Are you sure?"
Relief washes over her body as he smiles at her. She wants to lose herself in that smile. Take it from his face and keep it in a box under her bed so she can feel this good whenever she feels so bad again. It almost scares her how much power Clark had over her emotions. Almost.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Okay, but promise not to laugh at me. One little giggle Clark Kent and I swear I'll club you with your own telescope."
"I promise," he says reassuringly.
"You better," she mumbles before taking a deep breath. "Do..."
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
"What?" He chokes.
"I told you not to laugh!" She shouts, swatting his shoulder.
"I'm not laughing," he says.
"That question was a little out of left field."
"Well do you?"
She could see the color rising in his cheeks. That sweet embarrassment she knew would come. Whenever a girl would be straightforward with him on such girly subject matter it was bound to happen. He smiled wryly and turned his head away so she couldn't see him blush. She didn't know the right way to take this reaction. She knew the blushing would come, but that was just how he was. He wasn't saying anything. Silence wasn't the best thing she could think of when asking such a question. What if he was just thinking of a nice way to say no? What if he was really trying not to laugh?
What if? What if? What if?
"You're not answering me," she says softly, shyly.
"I'm not blind Chloe," he says just as quietly.
She closes her eyes as the warmth of his semi-compliment floods her body.
She feels him tense slightly as she moves closer to him, but he keeps still. He doesn't shy away from the touch of her hand on this side of his face and she's mildly surprised. Her other hand reaches for his. His fingers are rough and callous, just like she knew they would be. Their eyes lock as she squeezes his hand gently and was it her imagination? Or did he lean forward a little bit? She felt his fingers wrap around hers and she slowly moves closer herself. She has no idea what is happening. In her mind she knows that they are friends and nothing more. But there is still something in this moment left that couldn`t be explained. She knew it is what's drawing them together.
"What are you doing?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," she replies her voice just as low.
His words are cut off by her lips pressing to his. He balks for second, the shock stills his response so much that she begins to pull away, but he throws his arm around her and keeps her close. Her tongue invades his mouth, deepening the kiss. She moves closer, pressing her body firmly against his. She feels his arms wrap around her, feels her own arms wrap around his neck. They fall back onto the couch, her lying atop him.
She lefts herself get lost in this real life version of her fantasy.
Him. Her. This couch. This kiss.
What a way to spend a Saturday, she thinks. She came to apologize for keeping secrets from him and now she was making out with him in everyway she ever imagined.
They taste one another, nip at each other's lips. She wonders briefly where he learned how to kiss, but just as briefly realizes she doesn't care. She moans gently against him and she feels him let himself be lost in her touch.
She breaks away briefly. Only to breathe and to be able to look into his eyes. To see that this isn't come kind of fluke. What lies is his eyes cause those buried feelings inside her to irrupt into a mass of joy. She doesn't see love. It's far too soon for that. It might also be far too soon for anything else really. But as she lies on top of him, feels his arms wrapped around her, stares deeply into his eyes.
She sees glorious possibility.
Something she knows Lana Lang isn't even close too.
"So what were you doing before I came up here?" He asks smiling.
"Wouldn't you like to know," she teases.
She smiles and moves to kiss him again. He doesn't resist.
She wanted a part of him Lana couldn't touch.
Now she had two things.
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