Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Written for Secret Chlark, on prompts from tea_roses.
She's got you high and you don't even know yet...
"She's Got You High," Mumm-Ra
"Want some candy?"
Chloe Sullivan offered the bag of leftover Halloween candy she kept in her desk to her coworker. Clark Kent shook his head, so that his dark bangs fell into his eyes.
"I'm trying to watch my weight," he said, very seriously, and she snorted.
"Yeah. Like you have to worry about that." She shrugged, and perched on the edge of his cluttered desk. "Oh, well, more for me."
"Maybe I'll just have one piece," he said, and reached out. Their hands reached into the bag at the same time, brushing together. She felt electricity race up her arm, and shivered at the tingling sensation.
Looking up, she saw his eyes on her, serious and intent.
"Um," she said, drawing her hand back. "Sorry. Go ahead, get whatever you like. Just leave me all the Hershey's Specials, okay? Those are my favorites."
He pulled out a Mr. Goodbar and began unwrapping it. "So," he said. "You like your candy bars dark nowadays, huh?"
She remembered that there had been a day when he'd known everything about her, known her favorite candy bars and her favorite coffee and her favorite music. But she'd left town two years ago and gone off to write for the Gotham Gazette, and the two of them hadn't hung out too much since then.
She reached into the bag and pulled out a Special, almost defiantly. "Yes," she said, unwrapping it. "I do."
"Sounds like you like your men dark, too," he said. His tone was casual, but his gaze was anything but. The green eyes were still intent, watchful, as if alert for her reaction.
"You mean Batman?" She smiled innocently and took a bite of the candy bar. It tasted like a slice of heaven, dark and rich. No... heaven wasn't this sinful.
"You've written quite a few stories about him. I thought you and he might be... well, an item."
"An item." She gave a rueful chuckle. "I'm afraid not. Batman's more of the monk type, sad to say."
"What about his alter ego?"
She gazed at him innocently over her candy bar. "What makes you think he has an alter ego? Or that I might know who he is?"
He rolled his eyes. "No one can figure that kind of thing out faster than you can, Chlo."
"Thank you," she said, and reached into the bag, hunting for another Special. She found another Mr. Goodbar and tossed it to him, and he began opening it without protest. "But no, Batman and I aren't anything beyond friends."
"Glad to hear it," he said, very softly.
She blinked at him, wondering if that was jealousy she heard in his voice, or just the concern of a friend who was worried about the sort of guy she got involved with. She couldn't tell. She'd never been able to tell.
And that was the heart of the problem, wasn't it? She'd never been entirely certain if Clark's feelings for her were in the just-friends realm, or if he felt something more for her. Sure, there was undeniably a physical attraction between them, a tension that sometimes pulled so taut it almost snapped. But sexual attraction wasn't love.
He'd never said if he felt more for her than friendship laced with attraction, and even when she asked him outright, he'd dithered, dancing awkwardly around the question as if it terrified him to consider it too closely.
And so she didn't know how Clark felt about her.
She suspected Clark didn't know either.
The uncertainty had finally led her to accept a very good job offer from the Gazette. She'd realized that she wasn't moving on with her life. Romantically, at least, she was frozen in time, unable to move forward, because unconsciously she was waiting for Clark. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting...
So she'd moved away, figuring it was the only way to move on.
And yet she hadn't moved on, not really. In two years, she'd only dated a handful of men, and none of them seriously. Even a playboy billionaire with a dark side hadn't attracted her.
Eventually she'd finally realized the truth, which was that her heart was firmly in the possession of a mild-mannered reporter at the Daily Planet. Leaving hadn't changed that.
Nothing could ever change that.
She tossed him another Mr. Goodbar with a smile.
"I never met a guy in Gotham I was interested in," she said softly.
He abruptly became very involved in unwrapping his Mr. Goodbar, carefully avoiding her gaze. "I haven't met a woman in Metropolis I'm interested in, either," he answered. "I mean... not until recently. Very recently."
"Really," she said. "How recently?"
"Well..." He popped the candy bar into his mouth and looked up at her. Behind the dark-framed glasses, his eyes looked shy, almost vulnerable. "A few days ago, someone very interesting moved to town."
"I see," she said thoughtfully, eating her own candy bar and then placing the bag into her desk drawer, where she hopefully wouldn't be tempted to pilfer from it too often. "You think you might be inclined to make a move on her? Let her know how you feel?"
"Yeah," he said, still looking up at her. "I think I might."
"That's great," she said, and rose to her feet. He stood up too, and stood looking at her. They gazed at each other for a long moment.
And then he reached out, grabbed her, and hauled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her in an all-enveloping bear hug.
"I'm glad you're back," he said into her hair. "Really glad, Chlo. I honestly didn't know how much I missed you until I saw you again."
"Yeah," she mumbled into his shirt. "Me too."
He held her for a moment longer, then they pulled back and looked at each other. And then, heedless of all the people bustling around the bullpen, he bent, very slowly, and gently brushed a kiss over her lips.
It was soft and careful, barely more than a peck. And yet she felt it all the way down to her toes.
He straightened up, looking stunned.
"Uh," he mumbled. "Um. Well. I think I'm going to head out for a little while."
She cocked her head. "Do you have an interview?"
"No," he said, still looking like she'd conked him in the head with a kryptonite brick. "I just have a sugar high I need to work off."
He spun and headed for the exit, very, very fast.
Fifteen minutes later, a ripple of excitement ran through the bullpen.
"What's wrong with Superman?"
"He's always so dignified, so stately... what's going on?"
"What on earth is he doing?"
Chloe lifted her head from the story she was working on, concerned, and followed the exodus of people headed for the roof.
The roof was crowded with reporters, all staring upward with shocked looks ontheir faces. It was a beautiful fall day, and against the cloudless sapphire sky, Superman could be clearly seen, spinning and rolling and diving, his crimson cape fluttering wildly behind him.
"Is he all right?" the woman next to Chloe wondered, her eyes wide as she watched Superman's erratic flight.
Chloe gazed up at the swirling figure. Never before had anyone in Metropolis seen Superman behave in a less than dignified manner. But today, Superman was swooping and dancing joyfully across the sky, flying as if he were... well, high.
"I think he's fine," she said, looking up into the sky and smiling, because at last she had her answer. She knew exactly how Clark felt about her. "I think he's just... happy."