Two Friends, Two Jobs

2: Two Friends, Two Pizzas
3: Two Friends, Two Pink Slips
4: Two Friends, One Happy Ending


Clark/Chloe
Season 7 (some SPOILERS, don't read if you want to remain totally unspoiled)
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Sequel to the Two Friends series.

"We haven't gone out on a date in two weeks, Chloe."

"Not my fault, big boy. I'm dealing with the new editor from hell, and you've been working pizza delivery every night. It really doesn't leave a lot of time for dates."

"Yeah, but... Chlo, I miss you."

"Me too, Clark. But I have this story I'm working on right now..."

"You know Grant isn't going to print it, so why are you bothering?"

"Because writing articles is what I do, damn it. Even when I find myself working for a psychotic editor who kills all my stories just for the hell of it. This is my career, and it's important to me. As opposed to some people, who would be perfectly happy delivering pizzas for the rest of their lives."

"Ow. Hey. Did I deserve that?"

"I guess not. Sorry. I'm just stressed."

"I don't blame you. But you know, if Grant is deliberately tossing all your articles in the circular file, maybe it's time to find another venue."

"You mean write for something other than the Daily Planet? But it's always been my dream to work here, Clark."

"I know. But the unfortunate truth is that this place has gotten kind of screwed up lately. It's not the same paper you started writing for two years ago."

"Yeah, but... what else could I write for?"

"Well, I hear the Inquisitor has an opening..."

"Jerk."

"Ow. Geez, Chlo. It really bugs you that Grant hired Lois and put her upstairs, doesn't it?"

"Why would it bug me that a totally unqualified tabloid journalist would get hired into the upstairs newsroom, while I've been slaving down here in the dark, dank basement for two freaking years?"

"Chloe. Lois is your cousin."

"I know that. And part of me is really happy for her. But the other part of me... well, did you see this ridiculous article she wrote the other day? It was in today's paper. Let me see... here it is. The Chupacabra of Metropolis."

"She finally got that chupacabra story, huh? How convenient that it's running right around Metropolis. I guess she didn't have to bother going to Florida to look for it, after all."

"I mean, look at this, Clark."

"Yeah, nice picture. Did Jimmy take it?"

"Of course not. Jimmy wouldn't Photoshop a picture that way."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Grant is turning this paper into a tabloid, Clark. I mean, articles without proof, Photoshopped pictures... it's like the Inquisitor. Only worse, because it still says Daily Planet at the top."

"I'm sorry, Chlo. It sucks."

"The situation, or the chupacabra?"

"Both, I guess. Look, I have an hour before I have to report to my menial and meaningless job..."

"Hey, I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, it's okay. Forget about it. Let me take you out to dinner."

"I don't know, Clark..."

"Come on, Chlo. I know things are falling apart for you on the professional front. I don't want our relationship to fall apart, too. Anyway, you're under stress. You should let me help you with that. I have ways of relieving your stress."

"Heh. Yeah, you certainly do. But I thought you wanted to take me out for dinner?"

"I do. What do you want? Anything besides pizza."

"I thought you loved pizza."

"I loved pizza until I took a job where I have to smell it constantly. I think it's overloaded my nose or something. I've gotten to the point where I can't even stand to think about eating pizza."

"Okay. So anything but pizza. So what do you want to eat?"

"Well..."

"Down, boy. I thought we were talking about caloric intake here."

"I need you more than I need food, Chlo."

"Oh, my God. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Really? That's kind of sad. Obviously I need to practice saying nicer things to you."

"Feel free to work on that. I don't mind."

"Come on, let's walk down the hall. We could use the copy room..."

"Windows."

"Damn. Okay, there's the storage closet..."

"Sex with mops and brooms?"

"You make it sound so perverse."

"Yeah, that didn't come out quite right. I'm just saying there isn't a lot of room in there."

"Well, I could superspeed you back to the farm, but since Kara's there, I don't think it'd do us much good. No privacy. How about the Talon apartment?"

"Lois is already there. She doesn't have to work long hours to keep her privileged spot under the Tiffany lamps."

"Your bitterness is showing again, Chlo."

"Let it show. Anyway, the point is that the Talon won't work, either. So... the storage closet it is."

"I don't know, Chloe. I mean, you work here. Suppose we get caught?"

"What are they going to do, bust me down to the basement? Oh, wait, I already work there."

"Okay, come on. The storage closet it is. Obviously you really do need to be destressed."

"Um... it's really dark in here, Clark."

"You want someone to see the light and open the door to turn it off?"

"I guess not."

"So let's just be alone together in the dark. Hey. You're really wound up, Chlo. Relax."

"Mmmmm. Clark. Keep doing that, and I'm going to be totally relaxed in about two minutes."

"Two minutes, huh? God, you're easy."

"Is that a problem?"

"Hell, no. I love you because you're easy. And for a few other reasons."

"Because I'm good at... this?"

"Aaaaaaahhh. Jesus. Yeah, that's way up there on the list, all right."

"Oh, God. Clark. I needed this so much. I needed you so much."

"I know, sweetheart. I know. I could tell when we talked on the phone earlier."

"Things are just going all to hell, you know?"

"I know, Chlo. Don't cry."

"I'm not crying. I'm just a little upset."

"Take it easy, baby. Everything else might be going to hell, but you've still got me."

"Yeah, I know, Clark. And that's the only thing keeping me sane right now. No matter how screwed up everything else is... I've still got you."

-The End-

Read the sequel, Two Friends, Two Pizzas.