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(This was a fun one I enjoyed writing. Not too serious on the plot, and just enough Chlark to push me through it)
*
Peanuts.
Beer.
It was mid September that night, back when the long hot days turned into cool evenings, causing people to wear light jackets and less sunscreen. It was football season. And I, Chloe Sullivan, was smack dab in the middle of beer bellies and blue jerseys.
I’d only been in the Metropolis Sharks stadium once before, but never during an opening game. Describing the turnout as “packed” wouldn’t be accurate enough. It was more like,
Crammed.
Smooshed.
Suffocating.
At least, that’s how I felt sitting in my seat , overwhelmed by the smell of spicy hotdog mustard and hops. I felt like that last crayon you always tried to shove back into the cardboard box, only ending up broken in half in the process. And there were rows and rows of those crayons. Every row was blue, cheering for the home team. The Metropolis Shark’s stadium was one of the largest outdoor venues in the world.
Somewhere in the crowd, someone started up “the wave” and I felt my cousin beside me spring up enthusiastically to participate.
“C’mon, Chlo! The wave!”
I smiled at her, my eyes rolling out of habit. But she yanked me up anyway just in time to wave my arms in this silly fashion. It made me laugh once or twice.
She had one of those wonky foam hands that read “Sharks” and waved it in front of my face whenever she thought I wasn’t having enough fun.
As embarrassing as she was, I still loved her.
I don’t remember why I ever agreed to attend the Sharks opening game. Despite my resilience against watching overgrown men bulldoze each other over a silly ball, there I was in the middle of this Sunday night spectacle.
All I do remember were the handsome, dreamy blue eyes of a certain alien farm boy that got me to say yes.
The Kents bought opening game tickets months before. Jonathan, Martha and Clark planned to see the Sharks play, that is, until Jonathan’s heart exam sprung up, two weeks earlier, ruining their plans.
So, Jonathan and Martha insisted that Clark go ahead without them, and give the remaining tickets to friends.
Naturally, that meant Lana and me. A point to be made, that Lana first, and me, Chloe, second. Because Lana was Clark’s girlfriend and I was Clark’s… well, friend.
That last part made me seriously debate attending. Normally I could handle the whole Clark and Lana novella, but lately, after me and Clark’s little trip to the North Pole that summer, their relationship seemed less relevant to what was important. (And more annoying to be around in comparison.)
I mean, one of the most important things to me is Clark and seeing him happy.
And that, to me, has very little to do with Lana. Since I’ve known his secret, I could finally see how complicated his life was. You’d never know that underneath that dark tousled hair, flannel shirt small town smile was this enigmatic, complicated guy. I always knew there was something special about Clark Kent. I just never imagined I’d be so… right.
Journalistic hunch, I guess.
When Clark did tell me his secret, I’d already known way before then. But when he did tell me, it confirmed something that we both knew would always be between us.
Trust.
It was the one thing that Clark and I shared, yet the only thing Clark and Lana didn’t.
As much as Clark tried to fool himself, he’d never be happy with Lana until he trusted her, told her. She deserved as much as that, any girl did.
Case in point, I looked over at the “happy” couple.
Clark and Lana were sitting on my other side, Clark next to me and Lana on the end.
I could tell that Clark wanted to enjoy the game, but was holding back. I mean, he was smiling in his pleasant, agreeable way but even I’ve lived in a small town long enough to recognize someone keeping up appearances. Clark was worried about something. It showed all over his face when he thought other people weren’t looking. I wondered if it had to do with his dad’s recent heart condition, or if he missed our high school days when he briefly played as the star quarter back.
Or it could have been the million of other things that worried Clark constantly. I mean, the guy did have a lot on his shoulders, being the last son of an entire planet and all.
I guess I could understand that part of Clark that desperately wanted a humble life; the part of him that wanted nothing more than to work on his family’s farm with his picture perfect wife and have two point five kids. He’d tasted that dream a few weeks before when he’d lost his powers.
I’m not sure if the normal, “human” life was what he thought it would be. I mean, he was pretty much useless that time were broke into LuthorCorp. Clark didn’t have a whole lot to contribute to the abilities bin. I had my usual tricks and gadgets but we made a lopsided team at best.
Then, the week after that he was shot and sort of… died.
There wasn’t a scar though. He’d been healed completely once Jor-El revived him and his powers.
That didn’t mean Clark wasn’t hurting. The pained expression on his face looked familiar to that night we sat together in the barn.
But I knew Clark, and I knew he wouldn’t mention anything. Just mope by his lonesome or until I dragged it out of him.
I saw him look over at Lana, his expression softening.
Lana was ethereal as always, wearing a dark set of sunglasses that swallowed her perfect features. But she too looked bothered, quiet.
Something was up.
“Yes..Yes…YES YES YES!!” Lois screamed at the top of her lungs, her beer spilling this way and that.
Normally I could handle Lois’ zaniness. However, when patrons started turning in their seats to stare, I decided to intervene.
“Lois!” I sat up, grabbing an armful of my brunette counterpart. She’d managed to spill several waves of popcorn over into the row in front of us, onto the heads of annoyed spectators. Several of them turned around to stare, and I mouthed an apology before grabbing Lois by the arm, guiding her back into her seat. Sometimes my cousin was worse than a two year old.
“Lois, please! It’s only the kickoff. We’re barely one minute into the game!” I scolded, suppressing my laughter.
She absently sat down, stuffing popcorn into her mouth between her giddy chants. “Arghhh! C’mon! He could’ve ran the entire field! It was wide open!”
I rolled my eyes, watching the tiny football players scramble on the field. Our seats were pretty high, in the nose bleeds. But it was a gorgeous view. The stadium’s roof was open, and you could see all of Metropolis in sunset. Off in the distance, I smiled after I spied the glint from the bronze globe spiraling up high.
My day dream came to a stop when Lois roared to life again after our team fumbled, turning the ball over. Several more audience members turned around and shushed Lois, who was squawking like a very loud duck.
Even Clark and Lana, who had been flexible and compliant up until then, were staring.
“Lois, you know I love you, but maybe you can tone it down?” I cooed, patting her shoulder. “You know, so the mob of people staring daggers at us don’t come up here and gag us with these foam finger things?” I poked the one on her hand for emphasis.
Lois laughed and patted the top of my head like she used to when we were younger. She stretched her arms and leaned to catch Clark and Lana’s attention.
“I’m not bothering you guys am I?”
Clark smiled sideways and shook his head. Lana, on the other hand crossed her arms and remained silent behind dark glasses.
I kept my smug look to myself. Lois and Lana never could get along.
**
It was a late game, and the sun set that night was pretty intense. Our seats must have faced due west since the entire horizon turned a vibrant orange and then into the most brilliant, beautiful field of red I’ve ever seen.
Lois, Lana and I all wore our respective sunglasses, but Clark…
Clark didn’t need sunglasses. He could stare straight into that blinding light like a television screen, and stay that way, captivated by its crimson radiation.
I remember him saying something about being recharged by the sun. When I asked him what it felt like, he told me it was similar to a warm bath filled with the greatest caffeine high in your life.
Needless to say I was jealous.
I pulled my glasses down and peered at Clark from the side, studying the serene, yet powerful expression that overcame him. Invigorated him.
I really wished I could somehow tap into him, and feel it too. Feel that wave of energy that must have been waxing through him. I wanted to reach out and lace my fingers in his hair, around his jaw, his lips. Over his shoulders and under his shirt where I knew his skin was warm.
No.
Hot.
Where his skin was hot underneath my finger tips.
I wanted to lay my palm next to his heart, and just, feel it.
The heart of Clark Kent.
A place that I would never touch.
I must have been stuck day dreaming, because just at that moment, he turned to me.
And smiled.
I smiled too, not feeling weird or uncomfortable that I’d been caught staring. Nothing was awkward between us.
“How do you like the game?” He said, shifting a little in his seat. The stadium seats were tiny, even for Lana. I felt really bad for Clark. He looked like one of those crammed crayons I was talking about. A big, red crayon in that old jacket he always wore.
I picked up my drink from the cup holder, jiggled the arm rest between us until it popped up and retracted back, creating more leg room.
Clark looked at me for a second before he said, “Chloe, you don’t have to do that. What about your--?”
I smiled, eye rolling. “It’s ok, Clark. I think I can hold my Cherry 7-Up if it means you don’t have to be folded up like an accordion.”
That’s when he flashed the most brilliant smile at me and held it. “Thanks, Chloe.”
He let his thighs relax, his right one brushing up against mine. I tried not to think anything of it, instead leaning forward to see how Lana was handling this somewhat boring night. Her armrest was still in place, the barrier between her and Clark still there.
“So, this is fun, right?” Clark smiled at me again.
“Yeah!” I said a little less enthusiastically than I planned to. “Fifty yard line, popcorn, friends. I’m having a good time. You?” This was still big secret between me and Clark, but I really hated football. Why did I come again?
“Yeah,” Clark nodded, smiling happily. “I’m glad you came.”
And then I felt it. Like some of that trapped energy within Clark shined out and then inside of me. I smiled.
“Yeah,” I said, this time genuinely happy. “Yeah I am too. Thanks for inviting me, Clark.”
He looked at me funny then smiled, wrapping his inside arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “You don’t have to thank me, Chloe. You know I wouldn’t have come without you. “
Part of me wanted to smile and bask in it, and the other part wanted to sear off every inch of me that tingled from his casual touch.
I mean for god sakes, his girlfriend was sitting on the other side of him! I felt pathetic.
“Well in that case, thanks for letting me invite Lois.” I said, offering an apologetic smile. Truth be told I invited Lois because I couldn’t say no to Clark and I refused be a third wheel.
He smiled back and squeezed my shoulders again, like he always did. I loved it when he did that, and hated myself afterwards when I admitted it.
I thought he’d remove his arm around me, but he didn’t. I waited after the other team scored another touchdown and then kicked the ball through the two yellow posts. I waited until the next quarter.
But it stayed there. Around me.
Clark didn’t seem bothered by it, so I tried not to be… bothered by it.
I looked down at my feet, studying my sandals as if they were the most interesting thing I’d ever seen. I had painted my toe nails this new metallic blue shade I’d found earlier in the week. Lana thought it was weird, while Lois thought it was fun.
I thought the way the color evolved in different light was cool, interesting and complex.
And Clark, well Clark couldn’t stop looking at them. I started feeling self conscious.
During the game, his work boots kept brushing up against them. I reminded myself that his feet were like boats and had to dock somewhere in the small seating area, but it became distracting.
I mean, was he really playing footsies with me?
I lifted my legs into my lap, and curled them under. I thought I had solved two problems by sitting this way. But sure enough, a new one surfaced when Clark and I melded into each other’s seats, my knee crossed over his thigh, his arm around my shoulders.
I knew it wouldn’t be long until Lana spied this and misinterpreted it. And it wasn’t. At halftime, she broke her silent streak and announced that she needed to go “pee“, as Lois put it.
Clark stood up as well, offering to escort her.
She took one look at me, then Lois, then back to me, and then lastly Clark. And said,
“No, I’ll be fine.” She looked at me again. “Just… well, I hope nothing exciting happens while I’m away.”
Her connotation may have been lost on Clark, but it wasn’t on me. I sank back in my seat, face red.
I didn’t see Lana turn to leave, nor did I see her march up the aisle and towards the balcony where the concessions were. But I imagined she did the entire move with the biggest death stare in my direction.
I did hear Lois yell after her to bring more popcorn. I told Lois that she probably didn’t hear her.
“Well of course she didn’t hear me. All that hair covering her ears. Honestly.” Lois huffed , getting up.
“Hey, be nice.” I said, uncovering my face with my hands.
I looked at Clark who was still standing up, his eyes aimed at where I imagined Lana ran off to. I could tell he was using one of his abilities. X-ray or super hearing, I couldn’t tell which.
“Well, I guess I’ll go get popcorn. You want anything, Coz?” Lois said, picking up her purse.
“Um, no. I’m good.”
She nodded. “Smallville?”
He ignored her, focused on something else. Now I was curious.
“Smallville.” Lois tugged on his cuff.
He turned around, a confused look on his face. “Um, yeah.” He dug out his wallet, pulling out some bills. “Can you get Lana another water?”
Lois nodded heading towards the aisle.
“Oh!” Clark remembered, pulling out another five. “Another Cherry 7-Up. Right, Chlo?”
I looked up.
“No, it’s ok I still have some left--”
I watched a smug look cross him.
“Chlo.”
He didn’t have to say anything else. Just the way he’d said my name, like he knew all of my secrets or something.
And he did. He knew I didn’t like my 7-Up unless it was icy cold. And the one in my hands was luke warm at best.
I narrowed my eyes, playfully.
Behind him, I saw Lois roll her hers, reach around Clark’s bulky shoulder and snatch the money out of his hands, heading for the long line at the concession stand.
He sat back down.
It was just the two of us now. Our “date’s” seats on either sides empty.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence. “Is Lana mad or something?” I tried for the ignorant angle, fishing for the matter.
“Lana?” Clark looked at me, confused.
I blinked, trying to figure out if he was just playing dumb or if he really was that clueless.
“Yeah. Lana. She seemed upset when she left.”
“Oh, that.” He nodded. “Yeah, Lana and I had a fight earlier before we left home.”
I nodded, figuring as much. “Anything important?”
“No.”
I blinked, expecting the opposite of Clark’s indifferent response. Usually every Lana fight was red alert, category one emergency.
He turned around in his seat again, his eyes narrowed and strained. This I clued in to him using his x-ray power.
“What is it, Clark?”
“Well,” he turned back around, “it could be nothing. Or it could really be something.”
“Clark,” I said, emphasizing that I didn’t read minds.
“I can hear something, like a buzzing noise. I’ve been hearing it all night, but I can’t figure out what it is.”
A buzzing noise, I thought. “Like a insect or…”
He shook his head. I could tell he was listening for it. “Maybe I should walk around and try to find it.”
I nodded. “Which direction is it coming from?”
“I don’t know. It’s like it’s all around us. That’s why I haven’t been able to pin point it.”
“Oh.” I said, inwardly scratching my head. It was amazing really how Clark heard any of this. All I could hear was the rumbling of thousands in the stadium with the loud and very obnoxious overhead speaker. The crowd was becoming rowdy, chanting something that I couldn’t quite make out.
I watched Clark sit still for what I thought was the longest minute, trying to decide what he would do. Finally he said it was probably just the reverb he was hearing from the speakers and amps, and he was just readjusting to his powers. But I could tell he wasn’t convinced.
Neither was I.
I stood up and pulled him up with me, ready to scout out what ever it was Clark was hearing when I noticed every blue jersey in the stadium was facing us, staring.
I stared back at the crowd, then to Clark, who had the similar confused expression.
That’s when I heard someone yell,
“Kiss her you idiot!”
At first, I thought I had imagined it. Until I heard it again and again. The crowd was chanting it.
Clark and I stood there, looking at each other and at the oceans of people cheering us on, like we were the half time show or something.
That’s when someone sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and pointed up.
And there we were. Clark and me.
On the giant screen behind the goal post.
Our faces were framed in a pink heart outline with the words, “Kiss Me” in red with one of those timers underneath. Apparently we were picked out of a crowd of seventy thousand to participate in one of those stupid halftime games that I always kinda hoped I’d be picked for, but dreaded the day that it actually came.
I groaned, covering my face. How long have we been up there? Didn’t they know Clark and I were just friends.
“Kiss her!” I heard again, this time right beside me.
I felt Clark take my arm, and for a moment I held my breath.
“What should we do?”
I looked up, seeing Clark’s eyes wide and… strange.
“I don’t know. How do we tell them that we’re just… friends?” I said, looking up at the screen again. I tried figuring out where the camera guy was so I could mentally note where to chuck my 7-Up at when Lois came back.
Clark looked around, and then back at me. “Maybe we… should..”
“Super speed out of here?” I said, looking hopeful.
He cracked a smile. “No,” took a firmer hold of my arm, facing me. “Maybe we should just, you know, just so..”
I could only imagine how red my face was at that point, although I guess I could have looked up and seen it on that big screen.
Instead I watched Clark and the several mixed emotions that crossed over him. It mirrored what was going on in my head. I was about to give up and just walk away when I heard a voice cry,
“If you wont kiss her, I WILL!”
At that moment, something in Clark flared up, and he distinctly turned, his mild manner broken.
“SHUT UP.”
I’m not sure if Clark said it to himself, the one guy, or to the entire stadium. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, and the other in my hair and the next thing I knew, I was plastered against Clark’s lips, chest… all the way down to my toes.
Boy did I feel it all the way down to my toes.
I had kissed Clark before, sure. But, this was different.
Clark was kissing me.
It was fairly innocent the first few seconds. Just a friendly, I dare you, kiss.
Outside of ourselves, I heard the crowd roaring. Cheering.
Were they really cheering for us?
Suddenly I heard, or rather felt Clark groan deeply, clutching my waist tighter, pulling me up so he didn’t have to lean down towards me. I remember my feet dangling underneath me.
His lips were warm, full. Powerful.
I knew exactly when our friendship line was crossed. I let Clark carry me over it, waving at it as we sailed by. I couldn’t do much about it since Clark kept me pressed up against him. I really couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. And yeah, I guess I sorta forgot to try.
Slowly, I felt his mouth move against mine, caressing my lower lip into his and just linger with it until I felt my entire body melt. He did it again, and this time I followed along, deepening it.
I felt it. That trapped energy inside Clark that I’d always wondered about. I knew it was inside of him somehow, but I gave up my hopes a long time ago that I’d ever see a trace of it. But here it was. Against my lips, along the sides of my tongue. His fingers curled into my hair, his other hand clutching my waist… I felt warm, strong, dizzily intoxicated. I’d finally tapped into Clark Kent. And it was euphoric.
It was my turn to groan.
Somehow my hands traveled by themselves, wrapping behind his neck, into his thick hair, and pulled.
After the fifth, eight, fifteenth second… I lost count.
I started seeing sparks. Literally.
I knew Clark and I had always had chemistry, but this was too much. Clark must have seen them too, because we both reluctantly pulled away in unison, watching as the stadium lights flickered and sizzled, sparking and igniting.
Clark held his ears.
This time I heard it too. The buzzing sound. The same one Clark had been hearing, but infinitely louder. I held my own ears.
“What’s going on?!” I shouted over the chaos of the panicked crowd and deafening noise.
He shook his head, his blue eyes wide.
And that was the last thing I saw before the entire stadium went black.
***
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