Kiss Me, You Fool

Clark/Chloe
Before the show (eighth grade)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Based on a prompt by rjchasez: How about a kiss, from seasons 1-6, that we didn't get to see? And the junior high kiss doesn't count.

"I need to learn how to kiss."

Clark Kent blurted out the words in an awkward rush. His friend Chloe Sullivan lifted her head from her civics book and glanced at him, looking surprised.

"What do you mean, you need to learn how?"

"Uh..." He'd only known Chloe for three months now, but she'd already become one of his best friends. Only Pete Ross, the guy who'd been his best bud since kindergarten, meant more to him. "I just. Well. You know. If I ever get a date..."

"That'll happen about the time Hell freezes over," she quipped.

"Gee, thanks. I'm serious, Chlo. I don't know how."

She lifted a golden eyebrow, putting the textbook aside and standing up. "Sure you do. We kissed once, remember? The very first day we met, in fact. It isn't that hard, Clark. You just press your lips together and go from there."

It was the going from there part that worried him, but he was too embarrassed to say so. The problem was that he just didn't have any experience. Well, hardly any. His sole experience with kissing had been one quick peck exchanged with Chloe. Nice, but not entirely informative.

"Have you kissed anyone else?" he blurted out.

"Sure." She offered him her sardonic smile. "Gazillions of guys."

"Gazillions?"

"Dozens, at least," she said airily.

A weird sensation crawled up his chest and grabbed his throat. It took him a minute to realize it was jealousy. He and Chloe were just friends, and yet the thought of her kissing a bunch of boys... well, he didn't like it much.

"You're making that up," he accused.

"I am not." She glared at him. "What, don't you think I'm pretty? Don't you think boys want to kiss me?"

Of course she was pretty. One of the prettiest girls he knew. And yeah, of course he thought boys wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. Just thinking about it made his lips tingle.

"I didn't say you weren't pretty," he answered at last, a little grumpily. "I just don't believe you've kissed dozens of boys. You're only fourteen."

"Fifteen. I just turned fifteen, remember?"

"Fine. Fifteen. I don't think you ever kissed anyone but me."

"Ha."

The jealousy had him by the throat so tightly now that he could hardly breathe. "Fine," he said sharply. "If you're such an expert on kissing, then teach me how to do it."

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He got up from his desk and stalked across his loft, stopping right in front of her and lowering his head till they were almost nose to nose. When they'd first met, they'd been close to the same height, but in the last couple of months, he'd started to stretch out. He had a few inches on her now. "Show me how to kiss, O Mighty Expert."

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. She had pretty eyes, gold flecked with green. Sort of like leaves in the spring. Or like the reflection of green leaves and sunlight in a river...

And he was apparently turning into a poet, which was bizarre and a little scary. He'd never been the type of guy to go all sappy over girls, even pretty ones he liked a whole lot. He cut off the poetic line of thought and glared at her challengingly.

"Go on," he said. "Show me how to do it."

She looked at him, blinking, and then stood on tiptoe. She pressed her lips against his, a lightning-quick peck, and then pulled away so quickly he didn't even have a chance to get his arms around her. He scowled.

"You have got to be kidding me. That's not how people do it. I've seen people kiss on TV, and it lasts longer than half a second. Anyway, we kissed longer than that last time."

She glared at him dangerously. "Fine," she growled. She leaned back up and put her lips against his. Just a light brush, but it made his lips tingle in a big way.

This time, he had his hands on her waist by the time she backed away.

Careful not to hurt her, he curled his fingers, making sure she couldn't get too far away from him, and looked into her eyes.

"That was nice," he said.

"Yeah." She was more wide-eyed than ever. "It was, wasn't it?"

She was staring at him, her lips parted, and he could feel her trembling slightly. Encouraged, he bent down and brushed his lips over hers again.

It felt good. It felt really good. Electricity shot through his lips, and from there through his whole body, and he began to understand why people liked kissing so much.

Because it was awesome.

He meant to let go of her, but for some reason his hands didn't want to cooperate. Her arms lifted, wrapping around his neck, and he discovered that he liked that. He let his arms slide around her waist, and found that he liked that, too. Now it was like they were hugging, except they just happened to be kissing too.

He lifted his head, putting just a fraction of an inch between them, and spoke. His voice sounded funny. "What happens next?"

"I'll show you," she whispered, and lifted her mouth to his.

He kissed her again, and this time the kiss was less like a tentative brush of lips. It was a little firmer, a little harder, a little more confident. Her lips parted, and suddenly he felt the tip of her tongue touch his.

Whoa.

It felt good. It felt intimate. Maybe a little too intimate, considering they were just friends, and only in eighth grade. He thought he probably ought to pull away.

But somehow... he couldn't.

Their tongues brushed together, tentatively, shyly, and his arms tightened around her waist, and...

"Clark?"

He let go of Chloe like she'd burned him, and spun toward the stairs. His mom's voice had come from the loft staircase. Thank God she hadn't popped her head over the railing yet.

"Uh, Mom," he said, hearing himself stammering, like he'd been caught in something really, really wrong. He couldn't have felt more awkward if Mom had caught him looking at pictures from the Victoria's Secret catalog he'd swiped from the mail a few weeks ago. His lips were buzzing, and his nerves were humming, and there was a certain, well, stiffness in his body that didn't belong there. He really didn't want Mom to come up to the loft right now. "Chloe and I... we were just doing homework..."

Her voice drifted up, cheerful and unconcerned. "I just wanted to tell you I baked an apple pie. Why don't you both come to the house for a slice?"

The last thing in the world he wanted was apple pie-- and for him, that was a shocking thought. But apple pie, even fresh-baked apple pie, couldn't compare to the warm, sweet feeling of kissing a pretty blonde friend.

Still, he knew that the apple pie was Mom's way of making sure he didn't hang out unsupervised with girls too much. Mom didn't quite trust him around girls any more.

Apparently with good reason.

"Okay," he said, hearing his voice crack. It had recently dropped into a lower register, but when he got nervous or excited, it still did the cracking thing, embarrassing the heck out of him. "We'll be down in just a minute, Mom."

He listened, hearing his mom's footsteps move away, out of the barn. And then he turned back, to see Chloe grinning.

"That was close," she said.

He scowled at her, annoyed by her amusement. Chloe liked to live dangerously, whereas he was more the conservative type. "Yeah, it was. We better not do that again. I don't want my mom to decide I shouldn't hang out with you any more."

Chloe looked surprised. "You really think she'd do that? I mean-- well, you're a boy and I'm a girl. Kissing is pretty normal, Clark."

He thought about what his mom and dad would say if they knew he'd been kissing her. You're so strong, Clark. What if you hurt Chloe? What if she gets injured? You wouldn't want to hurt her, would you?

And he had to admit it could happen. When he wasn't paying attention, he was dangerous. And a minute ago... he definitely hadn't been paying attention.

The last thing in the world he wanted to do was snap his friend in half or something.

"I think she'd say I was too young," he answered at last. "And she's probably right. Come on, Chlo. Let's go have some pie."

He headed for the stairs. She put her hand on his arm gently, bringing him to a halt.

"Clark," she said, her voice as soft as her touch. "If you want to... well... practice again later..."

He looked down into her sunlight-and-spring-leaf eyes, and could barely restrain himself from lowering his head and kissing her again. Because he'd liked kissing her. An awful lot.

Too much, really.

"I don't think so," he said, more curtly than he intended. "We're just too young, Chlo. Let's just stay friends for now, okay?"

She swallowed, and her hand dropped away.

"Okay," she said softly.

He headed down the stairs, and heard her following behind him. He lowered his head, feeling like a fool. It had been stupid of him to ask her to kiss him, even on the flimsy pretext of showing him how. He had to remember he wasn't a normal guy. He was really, really strong, and he couldn't do the things everyone else did. Not even kissing.

He sighed as he went down the stairs. Because he really wanted to kiss her again.

But he just didn't dare.

-The End-