Happy Anniversary

Clark/Chloe futurefic
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Written for babydee1.

Four years. Wow. I can hardly believe it.

I mean... wait, that sounded wrong. I don't mean it's felt endless or anything. I just mean, I still can't believe you said yes when I asked.

I still can't believe I got up the nerve to ask, honestly.

I mean, we'd been dating like forever. Well, okay, not forever. Not exactly. But we'd been dating for five years as an official couple, and before that we'd spent years and years almost dating. I mean, starting with our first date to the spring formal, and then all those nights we spent together watching movies or playing Monopoly or saving the world together...

Let's be honest. We were dating from the time we were fifteen. We just didn't call it that.

Anyway, the point is, once we finally started dating, I knew you were the one. Hell, I knew you were the one a long time before our official first date.

Even so, I couldn't quite bring myself to ask you to marry me.

The truth is, I dithered and worried and stressed about it endlessly. I wasn't sure you'd want to be stuck with me long term. I mean, there was the whole can't-have-a-baby-together thing to worry about, not to mention the fact that I risk my life on a regular basis, and I wasn't sure I could ask you to share my life, knowing you might lose me.

But despite all my concerns, I planned my proposal over and over again. I thought about taking you to the best restaurant in Metropolis and dropping a ring into a glass of champagne. Or taking you to a Sharks game, and having "Will you marry me Chloe?" flash up on the JumboTron. Or taking you up over the fields of Kansas in a hot air balloon and...

Well, in my head I tried out every cliche I could think of.

But none of them were right. Because you're not a cliche kind of girl. You've always been an original. One of a kind.

And so I couldn't seem to work up the nerve to ask. I wasn't even sure I should.

But one night we were working together. Nothing particularly stressful or dangerous, just the two of us on a stakeout, trying to prove a Metropolis business was manufacturing weapons and selling them to terrorists.

I happened to glance over at you. It was dark, but your hair was lit by moonlight like a halo. I could barely make out your features., but you shot a smile at me, and I saw all over again how beautiful you were.

And in that moment I suddenly realized how much it would hurt to lose you-- so much that I couldn't imagine surviving it.

"Chlo," I said-- very softly, because we were trying to avoid attracting the attention of MetCo's security guards. "Will you marry me?"

You glanced back at me. I thought you might be annoyed, because God knew it wasn't the most romantic setting for a proposal in the world, but you just smiled. Not a sardonic, snarky smile, but a gentle and honest one.

"I kind of thought we were already married," you answered.

I grinned, because you had a point. "I'd like to make it official," I said. "With a ring and a ceremony and everything. Would you be okay with that?"

You nodded, very solemnly.

"Yes," you said. "I'd be okay with that."

And so three months later we stood up in front of friends and family and exchanged vows that were only a faint echo of what had been in our hearts for years and years. They were the best vows we could write-- and since we're both writers, I guess they were pretty good-- but words are only words. What we felt for each other was way beyond the ability of words to express.

It was a wonderful day. A happy day.

And every day since then has been just as happy.

That was four years ago. And now here I am, on another stakeout with you, trying to take down yet another bad guy through the power of journalism. We were supposed to go out for a fancy dinner and dancing for our anniversary, of course, but real life got in the way, as real life has a way of doing.

But I don't think you really mind, and neither do I. This life-- saving people, whether by reporting or superhero work-- is what we're both all about.

And when I look over at you, and see your face lit by the vague yellow light of a streetlamp, I still see the most beautiful woman I've ever known.

Four years. We've been married for four years. Wow. I can hardly believe it.

Like you said when I asked you to marry me, in a way it feels like we've been married forever. But we have decades more to share together. Decades more to look forward to.

And that thought makes me very, very happy.

-The End-