It started two months ago.
Clark and I were hanging out at the Talon, and he was flirting with me. No doubt to make the Lovely Lana Lang jealous, but he was, nonetheless. He offered to walk me home.
When we got to my house, I invited him in. Dad was working late shift, and I didn't really want to be alone, not that night. I don't know. I was just depressed. Clark, being the gallant knight that he is, stayed. He called his mom, told her where he was. She didn't care; makes me wonder why teenagers have no supervision. Not that that's a bad thing... Clark and I made dinner. Pizza. We spent an hour being dorks... throwing pizza dough, splattering the other with sauce... By the time the pizza was ready to go in the over, we were both a giant mess. I grabbed an old white dress to change into... I don't know why. I never wear dresses. But I liked it, and thought I'd wear it. And I did. I offered Clark a pair of my dad's sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Threw our clothes in the machine; I had left Clark in the kitchen to change while I changed in the laundry room. When I finally emerged, a full five minutes later (I had wanted to give him time to change so I didn't walk in on him... though the extra fantast material might have been nice). He was sitting on the table. He hadn't put on the shirt; there was too much spaghetti sauce on him. He had elected, instead, to sit there shirt-less, silently taunting me, while he used a towel to wipe all the sauce spots off. When he looked up, I swear, I managed to catch the exact instant when he finally got a clue. Something in his eyes changed, and he blinked a few times. "Chloe?" His voice was incredulous, as though he was actually seeing me for the first time. I chose to ignore that; I didn't want to get my hopes up for nothing. Again. "Yeah?"
"You're... you're wearing a dress."
"Like you've never seen me in a dress before?" "No. Chloe... skirts. But that's a dress. It looks..." I smiled jokingly. "Does it look good? It's a few years old, my guilty pleasure... it's too summery to wear now, though. Too cold. Look at how the skirt moves..." I twirled. I loved that dress. The skirt swished around my legs just right. I felt so... feminine. When I stopped twirling, Clark was right there. Right. There. That boy can move. I looked at him; not afraid of him so much as I was afraid of what I would do to him if he didn't step back soon. I didn't have to worry about that.
I felt his fingertips tracing my collarbone. "There's sauce... here." He touched, gently, then lowered his head, placed his lips on the spot. I moaned when his tongue flicked out, touched my skin. He straightened up a bit, kissed my mouth. Hard. With intensity I wouldn't have thought Farm Boy had in him. It seemed like we stood there for hours, touching, tasting, kissing, holding. Then Clark was REALLY holding me... he'd picked me up. He was carrying me. To my room. To my BED.
I didn't have the heart to stop him. And even if I had, I didn't want to. I had waited too long for that moment... Clark was touching me everywhere, kissing. His lips pressed against the hollow of my throat, one hand cupping my breast, the other on the small of my back. I pushed him away, sat up. He looked startled; then he looked surprised. I had whipped my dress off. Laying there in my conveniently-a-front-hook bra and my matching panties. Clark's mouth was open, and he swallowed. Just looking at me. "I was going to say we didn't have to... Jesus, Chlo..." I looked at him. I don't remember smiling. Just looking. And then we was back, on top of me, his mouth on mine, sucking on my tongue. There is a God.
I could feel his cock pressing against me, on my thigh. I squirmed under him, got him right where I wanted him, locked my legs around his waist. He pulled away from our kiss long enough to clumsily unhook my bra. And stare. Then I rocked forward, pulled myself into his arms, and I was kissing him again. His hands on me... God, it's almost too hard to re-live it without having an orgasm. The next time he broke away, he kissed down my throat, kissed the spot between my breasts, kissed underneath them... he caught one of my nipples in his mouth and started to suck, lightly scraping me with his teeth. I came. I couldn't stop myself. Being a virgin, this had definitely been the most erotic moment in my life. He held me. Waited. Wanted me to encourage him, or something. I slid my hands under the waistband of the sweatpants. Pushed them down a bit. Clark got the hint, took them off, knelt at the foot of the bed. His eyes half-closed, looking at me, and oh, God, he was so beautiful. He pulled my panties down, threw them somewhere. I don't know. I never did find them. And then his weight on top of me again. "Chloe, we can't. We need to..." I stared straight into his eyes, this time smiling. "Don't grow a conscience on my now, Farm Boy." And I pulled my "I wish I would EVER need these" stash of condoms out of my dresser drawer. So close I didn't have to do anything but stretch. Clark's eyes were wide again. "Just shut up and fuck me, Clark." He stared for a few seconds, then shook his head, accepted the condom I handed him. He slid it on without any trouble... like an expert. Hmm. And then he was inside me, and oh, it hurt so badly. I whimpered. "Jesus, are you okay? Chloe?"
"Fine. It's just... you know... first time. Hold on, don't move yet." He kept so still.
The pain dulled after a minute, and I stretched a bit... wow. That felt good. I slid my arms around Clark, my legs. "Okay. Okay, Clark." And he started to move. I can't describe any sensation that had ever felt better, ever. For fifteen minutes we held each other, me, clinging to him, him thrusting into me. And then, afterwards we just lay there. Not moving. Just, holding. "Chloe?"
I pulled away from him. "If you say you're sorry I'll kill you." He looked at me. "Why did you do it, Clark? Because Ms. Pretty Pretty Pom Pom isn't here? Did you ever stop to think that I had feelings on the subject? That I wanted it?" I moved out from under him, sat on the corner of the bed. I wouldn't look at him, no. I was embarrassing myself enough now because I was crying on top of being bitchy. I felt his big hand on my shoulder, on my back. "No, Chloe." So soft, his voice. "No. I'm not sorry. I'm not. I just don't want to lose you. I don't want to NOT have you as my best friend anymore. I didn't do it because Lana wasn't here, I did it spur of the moment. I did it because you looked beautiful. I did it because you ARE beautiful. I did it because you're YOU." I started really bawling then, not because I was upset, but because he knew all the right words. He pulled be against him; I turned my face into his shoulder and cried. "It's okay. Shh. It's okay."
Finally, I looked up at him. "What does this make us now?" "It makes YOU my girlfriend. If you want to be." "Really?" I squeaked. I didn't mean to. It just happened. He smiled, ran his hand through my hair. "I've thought about this for years, Chlo. I just didn't want to ruin our friendship. Now's a bit late for second thoughts, and I wouldn't take it back even if it was. Just one condition, though." "What?"
"We don't do... this... again. Not for a while. I don't want a sex-based relationship. I want to be with you, together, for a few months. At least." "Fine." Then, I remembered something, an afterthought. "And we've established that I was a virgin; we haven't established who YOU had sex with before me." Ha! I had caught him off guard. He looked like a deer in headlights. "What are you talking about?" "I'm not stupid. You didn't really know a lot of what you were doing, but you knew enough. Makes me think I know who it was." "Who?"
"Lex Luthor. Am I wrong?"
Clark was ashen. "What?"
Clark looked down. "Once. Just once."
I tilted his head up. "I don't care. Just as long as you don't do anything with him while we're together, I don't care." Clark just nodded. "Want pizza?"
I had forgotten. I just smiled, and we got dressed, and the rest is history, really. We told our friends, his mom and dad were really happy. Lex was pissed off at me after he found out I knew, but he got over it.
And now, it's two months later, and Clark is in my living room staring at me like I'm a retard. I have kind of been acting spastic, but what can I say? It's the pressure.
"Are you okay? Chloe?"
"No. No, I'm not. God. I can't... come here." I grab his hand. I lead him to the bathroom. Point to the E.P.T. on the counter. It takes him a few minutes to get it, but when he does... "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"No! I'm not. And I'm REALLY scared right now, Clark, you don't have to be shouting. Please." And I start to cry. Clark pulls me over to him, apologizing like mad, telling me everything would be fine, everything would work out. And then: "Chloe? I have something to tell you."
My boyfriend is an alien.
How fucking typical is that?
My boyfriend, who, might I add, used to fuck MEN, is an alien.
And I'm going to have an alien baby. ME. Chloe Sullivan! The never really does anything wrong girl. I don't do drugs, I don't drink, I don't sleep with random people... and I'm going to have an alien baby. That is SO TYPICAL.
Clark's parents flipped out. Couldn't believe he'd do something so stupid as to TELL ME. Well, newsflash, Mr. Kent, I have a right to know what's living in my stomach.
My father kicked me out of my house. Good. I don't care.
I moved in with the Kent's'. Mrs. Kent, at least, is being sympathetic. Mr. Kent is being a prick. Keeps looking at me like I'm about to destroy the world because I'm pregnant. Sorry, but it takes two to have sex, or didn't you know that? Asshole.
I can't even talk to Clark. He's tried, he's tried SO HARD and I feel SO BAD, but I can't even look at him right now. My best friend for six years, the only person I've ever really loved, the father of my unborn child.
And he's an alien.
A part of me feels like I'm going insane. Because in addition to being burdened with a pregnancy at sixteen, and in addition the child being half- not-HUMAN, I suddenly have this big, important secret thrust upon me that could kill both my boyfriend and my child if I let it out.
Somebody save me!
Why is this my luck? I must have some major karma payback from some previous life.
I just want to cry. I just want to TALK about it. When I do bring it up around Clark or his parents, they get all uncomfortable. The "I'd rather not talk about that" look. Well! It's my life, too, and I NEED to talk about it.
Strangely, the only person I've been able to talk to is Lex. Lex Luthor. My boyfriend's ex-boyfriend. Ha. Someone call Jerry Springer.
I haven't said anything to him about Clark being what he is, or my fears of what my child will be like. But he's the only person who's been willing to listen to me cry, to listen to me talk about how hard this is.
The Kent's have made it their duty to take care of me. But, last I recall, they could barely afford to take care of themselves. Clark eating alone costs them hundreds more a month than it should. Imagine when super-baby comes along. God.
Lex has offered to pay for the birth, for the doctor's visits. I'm going to take him up on it. I don't care what they think. I have to start thinking like a mother. I can't be afraid to accept help when if comes my way. I'm four months pregnant; the first few prenatal visits nearly killed the money situation at the house, I refuse to be their downfall. Lex has money to spare and he's WILLING, even eager, to help. I'm going to let him.
Pete was horrified that Clark and I were going to be parents. He was scared for us. And he didn't even know the whole situation. Lana was sympathetic... she always comes to see me, now. We've grown so much closer. Whitney and Clark even hang out now, because Whitney isn't afraid that Clark is after Lana anymore.
I'm so scared.
I haven't talked to Clark in anything more than idle conversation for over three months now. I know Lex tells him everything I say, but that doesn't matter. And he's trying so hard for me, too. I told Lex once that I'd been having killer neck aches. Just in passing. My neck kept cramping up. I don't know why. And Clark came over to me, without saying a word, and rubbed my neck and shoulders for me for over an hour. Then he gave me that little smile and walked away.
He tries, they all try, but right now, I am so alone. No one else has experienced what I'm experiencing. Mrs. Kent tried to empathize, but she did not give birth to Clark. She didn't raise him from infancy.
I'm so scared.
I'm sitting in the loft right now, Clark's fortress of solitude. I've been coming up here more and more. It's so quiet, so peaceful. I'm always sitting on the windowsill, staring at the view, or fiddling with the telescope. I now understand where Clark's obsession for astronomy came from.
I hear the door creak open and turn around. Clark is standing there, just staring at me. And crying.
And for the first time, it hits me how hard this is for him, too.
Wordlessly he comes over to me, and I reach up, wrap my arms around his neck. Pull him down. Hold him as he cries on my shoulder.
When he's done, he silently leads me to the couch and we sit, and he holds me. His hand on my belly. Feeling the already strong kicks of our child.
And now I'm crying.
"No, I'm sorry. I love you, Clark. More than anyone. This was all just... too much to take on right away. I'm sorry I've been distant. I'm sorry I couldn't handle this."
And he's kissing my forehead, always the gentleman, telling me that things will be okay, everything is going to be fine, I'm wonderful, I shouldn't worry. Lex has offered money to him, too, he tells me, and he's going to accept. We need all the help we can get.
And then we start talking about the baby. About what it's going to be like to be parents at sixteen, regardless of the species. When I say that, he laughs.
"What will we name it?"
I hadn't even considered. See? Already a bad mother.
"I have a suggestion for a boy," Clark says. I nod, urging him to go on. "Lex wants to help us, we're going to let him help us..."
"If you tell me to name my child Alexander, I'm going to kill you."
Clark smiles. "No. Has he told you about his brother?"
He hadn't. Clark fills me in. "So, I think we should name it Julian. If it's a boy."
I consider. Julian Kent. Not bad. "That's nice. I like it. But what about if it's a girl?"
We're both silent for a long time.
"What about Abigail?"
"I'm not giving my child a plain name, either. No Sarah's or Hannah's or anything."
More quiet thought.
Then, I have it. Old-fashioned but beautiful. "What about Sophia?"
Clark thinks it over. "I think that's good. Sophia or Julian Kent."
"We would also need middle names. Sophia... Maria?"
"I like that." Clark furrows his forehead in thought. "Julian... Daniel?"
"Ew. No. What about... Maxwell? Julian Maxwell."
"I like that. I do."
"You know, if Lex is paying for the next doctor's visit, we can find out if it's a boy or girl. We can have a sonogram, they'll be able to tell this time..."
Clark shakes his head. "I'd rather have the element of surprise."
"But we still have a problem, Clark."
"When I have the baby... they do blood typing at hospitals, Clark. They'll find out something... that something is different. What will we do then?"
Clark is silent for a very long time. Like, five minutes long. And then he tells me about when his parents found him. They couldn't adopt him legally because of all the tests and things.
They had gone to Lionel Luthor. He hadn't asked for an explanation, or payment, and they hadn't trusted the Luthors' ever since. They were still waiting to be called upon to fulfill their end of the bargain.
And now he's suggesting we do something of the same. He wants to tell Lex the secret. Get Lex to hire a midwife, get Lex to procure birth certificates and social security cards.
If we do this, Clark's parents will hate us. Or, well, me, because they'll think I talked him into it. And Lex will know. And we all know that Lex is devious... he might use this against us or our children somewhere down the line.
But then again, he might not. And right now, that's the only real option we have.
Clark tilts my chin so that I'm looking up at him. "No matter what happens, whether we can pull it off or not... I still love you, Chlo. Always will. Remember that, okay?"
And I will. Because I will always love him, too.
Clark's parents hate us now. Me, at least. They think I talked him into telling Lex his secret... our secret. I didn't. He did it all on his own.
Today, I am a mother.
Last week, Clark told Lex. Lex acted as though he already knew, which, when dealing with Lex, probably means he did.
Lex insisted that for the last week of my pregnancy, we stay with him. Clark wanted to be by my side the whole time, and Lex wanted us to be close to the midwife. So we did. Lex also moved a midwife in and paid her handsomely to never say where she was or what she was doing during said week.
Mr. and Mrs. Kent visited every night; Mr. Kent making little barbs about how Lex had us right where he wanted us, Mrs. Kent upset that it had come to this. But what choice did we have?
Last night, Clark, Lex and I were relaxing in Lex's library, each reading separate books, enjoying the quiet company.
And then, halfway through an Anne Rice book, I screamed.
It was the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life.
No one had told me it would be like this.
Lex and Clark were immediately by my side, Clark holding my hand, trying to calm me down; Lex, screaming for Nancy, the midwife.
Five minutes later I was lying on the bed in the room Lex had set aside for this purpose. Nancy was hovering over me, her kind eyes reassuring me that it was okay. Clark was sitting beside me, hand in mine. He kept kissing my forehead, for some reason. I thought it was incredibly funny. The pain was fading a bit.
Lex was pacing, eager, and nervous. He was afraid. He had seriously freaked when I screamed. I realized suddenly that, while I had thought of Lex as one of my now-closer friends, I had also thought he didn't much care for me. Seems I was wrong.
An hour later, I didn't think much was funny anymore. Nancy's kind eyes were now crinkled with worry. She told Lex that she had never seen a first time birth start so quickly. Something about how I was ready already, that it was too soon.
I screamed that it WASN'T too soon, and could I PLEASE push? God, it hurt. God, I wished I were numb. God, I wanted to die.
And then I was pushing, and Lex looked ready to puke, and Clark was patiently taking the death grip I had on his hand.
And then I heard this tiny little cry. Just one, and Nancy was smiling again, holding up a baby. My baby. My son.
And Clark and I were crying. Nancy placed him on my stomach, started to wipe off his back and legs, and Clark and I were cooing in these ridiculous voices about how beautiful he was, how precious, how much we loved him.
And then I felt it. Something sharp in my stomach. God. Blinding pain for a minute, and then I was grabbing for Nancy, telling her something was wrong.
And she was between my legs again, examining, telling me that I was barely bleeding, she couldn't understand...
And then she told me to push again. I didn't know what was going on, I assumed afterbirth of some sort was ready to be expelled. So I pushed. Hard. For about two minutes. And then...
"Chloe, Clark, what's..."
And then Nancy was standing beside me, holding another tiny, squirmy, bloody thing. Another baby. My baby; my daughter.
And Clark and I were laughing, and crying still and Lex was cautiously petting our son and daughter, his long fingers trailing up and down their backs. And Nancy was checking to make sure that was it. God, I wanted to laugh.
A few minutes later, I did end up having to push for the afterbirth. Nancy cleaned me up, told Clark and Lex to get me into a hot bath to relax my muscles; told Clark to rub my back for a little while. It hurt, quite badly. And then she took the babies to clean them up.
An hour later, I was lying in the bed Clark and I had shared for the past week. Mr. Kent and Mrs. Kent had come, and now they, plus Clark and Lex, were looking down at me.
In the crook of each of my arms rested a little tiny baby. Our babies. We were all connected, there. Mr. Kent seemed to get over his anger with me the first time he held my daughter, my son.
Lex had worked quite efficiently in procuring the birth certificates and such: and suddenly, our children were as legal as they were ever going to be. Julian Maxwell Kent and Sophia Maria Kent.
They looked more like Clark than me. His dark hair, his pouty lips, his nose. But they had my eyes.
Today, I am a mother. Clark is a father. Mr. and Mrs. Kent and my father, who doesn't know it yet but will soon, are grandparents. We're going to ask Lex to be the godfather, and Lana to be the godmother.
We have to stay away for a few more days, out of Smallville proper. The story that the Kent's had circulated about us was that we had gone to stay with Mrs. Kent's sister in Pennsylvania. We would be coming back after the child (well, children) was born.
Mr. Kent took a picture of us. Me and Clark, sitting up on the bed, he holding Sophia and me holding Julian. We looked exhausted, but so, so happy.
God. I never thought I would be so, so happy.
But I am. And so is he. And the babies are so beautiful.
And everything is perfect.
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