Late season 5
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the WB and DC Comics, not to me
Sometime in the middle of the night, he feels her shaking his shoulder.
"Hey," she says.
He drags his eyelids open and sees that the lights are back on. She's looking at him, her eyes wide, her blonde hair rumpled and tangled. "Mmmm," he answers sleepily. "Whassup?"
"The power's back on. Want to watch your movie now?"
"Are you kidding me?" He blinks against the painful brightness of the lights. "What time is it?"
"What do you care? I thought you loved that movie."
"Mmmm," he answers drowsily, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face against her hair. "I do. But I love you more."
She's very still in his arms, and all of a sudden his eyes snap open, and he stares at her, feeling something very close to panic. "Shit. I did not just say that. Did I?"
"Yeah. You did."
Her eyes are wary, and she looks like she might just jump up and run out the door. He tightens his grip around her waist.
"Don't run away, Chlo," he says softly.
She looks at him a moment, and he can see her walls going up as clearly as if they were made of brick and mortar. "It's okay," she says at last, in an artifically bright tone. "You were sleepy."
"Uh, yeah." He'd blurted out the words because he was half asleep. But he realizes his subconscious has somehow struck on a truth that he should have figured out a long time ago. "But I didn't say that just because I was sleepy. I do love you, Chlo."
"Well, sure. As a friend."
"No," he says, staring at her, wondering why he never recognized his feelings before. He loves Chloe, and has for a long time. He's been so focused on his ex-girlfriend Lana Lang that he hasn't seen what's right in front of him, or noticed what's really in his heart. God, he's a dumbass. "I love you, Chlo. Really."
She blinks at him. "Oh," she says at last, in a small voice. "I'm not sure... I mean, I don't know if I..."
He remembers the way she reacted to his lovemaking, and a feeling of happy contentment fills him. She might not be certain how she feels, but he's sure of her feelings for him. "You love me," he says, grinning. "Don't try to deny it."
Her eyes narrow, a sure sign of annoyance. "I admit nothing."
"I bet I can get you to admit it." He rolls over on his back, pulling her on top of him, and she struggles, although not very hard.
"I thought you were sleepy."
"I got over it." He grins up at her. "So are you going to admit it, or am I going to have to force it out of you?"
She looks at him, her eyes very serious, then a slow smile tilts her mouth.
"Go ahead and try. I won't crack, no matter what you do to me."
Twenty minutes later she buries her face in his shoulder, gasping for breath.
"Oh, shit. I did not just say that. Did I?"
"Yeah. You did."
"Crap." Despite her words, she doesn't sound very annoyed. He can hear amusement in her voice, and it warms him from the inside out. He laughs into her hair.
"I told you I'd make you admit it."
"Jerk," she says, kissing his cheek, so that the insult somehow manages to sound like an endearment.
"I bet I can make you admit it again, too."
"Geez, Clark. Let's take a break and watch the movie, okay?"
He shrugs, stretches out his arm, and finds the remote control, which is buried under a mountain of popcorn. Apparently they knocked the bowl off the couch at some point. He presses "play," and the movie starts.
She cuddles up against him, and he sighs happily. A great movie and a gorgeous woman to watch it with. Life just can't get any better than this.
But then she starts kissing his chest again, working her way up to his throat, and before long he's totally ignoring the movie. He hates to admit it, but there are better things in life than science fiction movies.
Much better things.
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