Late season 5
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
"I need you, Chloe."
Those had been Clark's exact words. His voice had sounded very sincere on the phone, so I'd jumped into my little red Bug and hustled over to the Kent Farm, only to discover what he really needed was a decorating magazine.
"I'm trying to make it look romantic," he said, stalking around the old pine table and frowning at it. The scent of fettuccini Alfredo hung in the air, making my mouth water, and I gathered he was cooking Lana dinner. "This is my first date in a long time."
I looked over the table, set with hundred-year-old Haviland china (handpainted with pink roses) and his mother's good crystal. And rose-colored cloth napkins. Wow. I wished a guy would do something like this for me.
Not likely, unfortunately. I just wasn't the Haviland kind of girl somehow.
"Not bad at all," I said. "You have a lot of talents, Clark. Superhero... and interior decorator."
He frowned at me. "Don't let that get around, okay?"
I laughed softly. Clark might be an alien, but he didn't want people to think he had a girly side, any more than any other teenage guy did. "So why'd you call me? It looks fine."
"It needs something," he said, frowning.
I looked at the table again. "Candles," I suggested.
"I already have candles."
"Yeah, a big two candles. Big whoop. You need a lot more. Girls like candles, Clark. Especially Lana."
"Lana?" He blinked at me, then shrugged. "Uh, I guess you're right."
Since Clark and Lana had lost their virginity to the light of about a thousand candles-- a story I'd heard over and over again from Lana after the fact, somewhat to my disgust-- I knew I was right. Clark and Lana had been drifting apart, but that didn't mean she wouldn't fall right into his arms if he made this dinner romantic enough. Lana was predictably easy about that kind of thing.
The image of Lana and Clark in each other's arms irritated me, but I tried to suppress my annoyance, because Clark and Lana were both my friends. I ought to be happy that Clark was trying to woo her, to get her back.
But somehow I just couldn't be happy about it, no matter how hard I tried.
I watched Clark grab candles from a cabinet, put them into little crystal holders, and arrange them all over the table. "Is that better?"
"I don't know." I frowned at the table. "Hard to tell until you actually light them."
He did that squinty thing with his eyes, and one by one the candles lit. That's pretty much the most amazing thing he does, I think. Being able to generate enough heat to light a candle by staring at it is just astounding. It kind of makes you wonder what else he could do if he put his mind to it.
A moment later, the candles were all lit. "Okay," I said. "Kill the lights, and we'll see how it looks."
He obediently reached out a long arm and flipped a switch, and all of a sudden we were standing together in a flickering golden circle of candlelight.
"Better," I said, nodding. I looked back up at him and suddenly noticed what the candlelight did for his features. His cheekbones stood out more prominently than ever, and his eyes looked dark and sexy, jade-green and full of sensual, smoldering shadows.
Hell. No wonder Lana liked candlelight so much. Candlelight and Clark went really well together.
He looked back down at me, and something odd crossed his face. Maybe I was standing a little too close to him or something. Clark has a kind of gravitational field that tends to suck me in, and somehow I always find myself standing a little closer to him than I probably ought to. It's not intentional, honest.
I looked up into his eyes and couldn't look away. "I guess I'd better get going," I said at last, softly. "Unless you need anything else."
"Um..." He swallowed, then spoke very softly. "Don't go, Chlo."
And then his arms were around me, holding me gently, but firmly enough that I couldn't get away, and he was kissing me. Me, Chloe Sullivan, instead of Lana Lang, the girl he'd always supposedly been in love with.
I let the kiss go on for a little while. Well, okay, I let it go on for about five minutes. Clark's a sexy guy, and he tastes good and feels better. You can't tell me you'd find it easy to back away from a guy who looks like a Greek god and kisses like an angel, either. But eventually his hands began roaming, and I started to realize that things were getting seriously out of control.
With some effort, I managed to pry my mouth away from his. He opened his eyes and looked at me through eyes that were unfocused with passion.
I swear, they really were. He looked outright dizzy.
"Hey," I said. "Didn't you say Lana was coming over? Do you really want her to find us with our tongues down each other's throats?"
His eyes started to focus again, and a little smile curved his mouth.
"Actually," he said, "I never mentioned Lana. I just said I had a hot date."
I shrugged, struggling to act nonchalant. "Whatever. You don't want your date to find us sucking face, do you?"
He gave me a crooked little smile. "I don't think that's likely to happen."
I stared at him. "Huh?"
"I sort of cooked dinner for someone I didn't have the nerve to ask out on a date. And then I sort of asked her over to look over the way I decorated the table."
"Wow." I lifted an eyebrow, trying to look cool and casual, like my heart wasn't about to pound its way right out of my chest. "That's pretty darn devious of you, Clark."
He looked pleased with himself. "I thought so."
"So..." I looked at the Haviland china, and a little warmth blossomed in my chest. It felt like a spring day in the middle of winter. Maybe I was the Haviland kind of girl, after all. "So all this is for me? Seriously?"
"Yeah," he said, and flashed his dorky, bashful, and totally gorgeous smile. "If, you know, you feel like having dinner with me."
I hesitated, and his smile faded, just a bit. He added more softly, "I need you, Chlo."
At the hint of vulnerability in his voice, all my hesitation fled. I flung my arms right around his neck and kissed him, hard.
And he kissed me back.
We got a little, shall we say, occupied, and the fettuccini wound up being a bit on the goopy side. But I didn't mind all that much, because Clark served it to me on hundred-year-old plates lit by candlelight. Antique china somehow makes any food taste a lot better. I guess presentation really is important. That was something to think about, the next time I found myself plopping pizza onto styrofoam plates.
Anyway, it was all so carefully planned out that I really began to believe he wanted me that way. He'd obviously put a lot of thought into this evening, and that made my insides melt.
For the first time in my life, I was being wooed... and I liked it. It was sweet. It was romantic. It was perfect.
Clark looked at me from across the table, taking my hand and giving me his shy, bashful smile, and I melted even more.
He needed me. He really did.
And for the first time, I realized I didn't just have a crush on him. My feelings for him went deeper than that. A lot deeper.
I needed him, too.