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a series of seven unconnected Chlark drabbles written for [livejournal.com profile] twistedlyn & [livejournal.com profile] simplytoopretty's Drabble Tag

bold and underline is the drabble title
italics is the prompt


The Maiden Voyage
gravity

“You’re floating,” Chloe breathlessly says.

Clark hovered a few inches off the ground. “I guess it’s the first step? Like crawling?”

“Your version of baby steps,” she muses. “Very cool, very awesome and . . . admittedly, very weird.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one freaked out here,” he smiles, drifting down back to Earth.

“Nope, definitely freaked. And amazed.”

“I’m thinking, eventually I can fly?” They both walked side by side back to the house.

She smiles up to him, happy he shared this with her. “I’m thinking, I’m glad I was here for the maiden voyage.”

---

Quality Time
Why?

“But why?” She asked, her face not hiding her anger and upset.

“I have to, they need me,” he said, shrugging the tuxedo jacket over his shoulders. “I’ll be back in time.”

“It’s really sad that you have to run and play ‘spy’ with Oliver. Can’t you just bash somebody over the head and make it a quick night?”

Clark smiled, “If Bruce ever heard your blatant disrespect of the espionage game . . .”

“What? Death by growl?” Chloe came up behind him and linked her arms around his waist. “I think I’ll survive.” She looked over to the iced champagne in the silver bucket. She slid her hands down and his cheeks went red. “Just so you know, when that gets warm, I get cold.” Moving her hand she retreated, the slinky charmeuse nighty clinging to every curve. He quickly reconsidered the bashing heads strategy.

---

Delicate News
Crackers

She felt like ass. Ass was not a fun feeling. She felt sick and nauseous and pretty much . . . like ass.

“You look awful,” Clark observed, the coffee pot hanging limply from his hands.

“Thanks, Clark, thanks for that. I needed that ‘cause I was sure the mirror was going dark side and just wanted me to feel self-conscious and insecure today, but wow, you really clarified that for me—” her mini-diatribe was interrupted by a cramp and a bubbling sound.

“What happened?” He asked her, watching her reach into the cabinet and grab a box of very ancient crackers.

“What happened?” She asked. “Other than the fact that you were COMPLETELY WRONG ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO HAVE KIDS WITH A HUMAN BEING?! . . .” she munched on some crackers and watched the coffee pot crash to the floor. “Yeah, chew on that, daddy-o.” She padded back to her bed.

---

Rendezvous
The Barn

“Clark?!” Lois Lane shouted at the barn door. “Kent?!”

Chloe crouched low behind the tall bales of hay and pulled a few from her mussed hair. Clark was jumping back into his pants, his face flushed.

“Clark?!”

Chloe giggled, falling into Clark’s arms and he stared down to her, taking a moment to appreciate her smile. “Shhh,” he whispered.

“Clark?! Where the hell—”

Chloe buried her face in his chest to stifle her laughs and he just held her against him. He pulled a golden strand of straw from her likewise golden hair. “If you don’t stop,” he whispered. “She’s gonna find us.”

Their bare chests pressed together, Chloe looked up to him, “It’s a little funny?”

He leaned down and kissed her, just in case she started giggling again.

---

Spicy
Jalapeños

Her mouth was on fire. “The yellow ones are going to kill me,” she grinned, popping another one in her mouth like Tic Tacs. Clark just quietly smiled and placed another cheese-covered nacho in his mouth. “What? You used to love Mexican!” She said, reaching over for her bottle of orange Jarritos.

“In junior high,” he mumbled.

She looked hurt, “I’m sorry. Next time we’ll do pâté and caviar, Clark.”

His mouth dropped and he tripped over the next words, “I’m sorry, no, no it’s not like that, I swear! It’s just,” he leaned in closer, “I can’t really taste the peppers anymore.”

She wore a blank frown. “What?”

“Invulnerability kinda means . . . you know, everything.”

“Oh! Oh God!” She closed her eyes and felt like an idiot. “And I’m here blah blah’ing about it. I’m sorry, Clark. Guess this nixes Indian night.”

“No, it’s okay,” he immediately said, brightening up his face with a smile. “I like being here, with you.”

She frowned, “Eating spicy food you can’t taste?”

He gave her a sly grin and shrugged. “I can think of other ways you can spice up my life.”

Chloe Sullivan blushed and nodded. “Funny that, me too.”

---

The Mermaid and The Sea
Drowning

It was okay. She thought, and it was her last thought, she knew it was, it’s okay. If she was going to die, she would be glad to do it here. It wouldn’t come as a surprise in the night or after years of wasting away. She would be the flotsam, the jetsam, she would be the spirit in the waves. It was okay, to die here. No one knew where she was, no one would find a body that didn’t look like her, that would be cut open and prodded and examined. She would just become a part of the ocean and her entire afterlife would be floating in calm blue.

She always thought that would be how her last moment would be spent but it was different now and the old adage of be careful for what you wish for came back to her but it was okay. Something had to go the way she wanted in her life and though the translation was lost, the meaning ended up the same.

The mermaid was sinking.

Everything was vanishing.

It was okay . . .

She felt air. Cold, cold air and warm arms.

“I’ve got you,” and his voice was everything she needed to make it right.

She was floating, the sky a crisp endless blue. It was everything her last moment was supposed to be but now, it wasn’t alright. It wasn’t okay. He was holding her and she didn’t want this moment to be the last. She wanted it to last forever.

“What took you so long, Superman?” She whispered, leaning into him, closing her eyes and telling her body to hold on, just a few moments longer.

---

Where There's Smoke . . .
Cooking

“Sweetheart?” She said, just a hint of irony in her voice. “Is something burning?” The apartment smelled like Chernobyl post-meltdown.

Clark moved on lightning from one pan to another pot to the oven and around and around. Chloe emerged from their bedroom and watched a big blue blur ruin every egg in her fridge. Her jaw dropped.

“It’s not,” Clark said, emerging from his speed for a moment to speak to her then going right back into blur mode for a second. “Coming out,” he tried again before a sizzle and a curious whop! took his attention away again.

“Stop!” She shouted and he froze. The apron he was wearing had more pancake batter on it than then waffle iron could even hold. His face was covered in flour. And Milk? “What are you doing? My kitchen!!!”

“I wanted to—”

“No, no, just, no—”

“But, I wanted—”

“Clean up. No, please, just clean it up.”

He sighed and a moment later the kitchen was spotless.

She went to him and took him by his shoulders, “Why???”

“Happy anniversary?”

She frowned, “A few months early, don’t ya think?” He took her hand and turned her to the coffee table. An old book rested on the glass surface. “Tales of the—” She began with a whisper.

“Ten years. Today.” He leaned over and smiled, “Our first kiss.”

Face burning, Chloe Sullivan-Kent turned to her husband and said, “Sometimes you make it impossible to be angry with you.”

He took her in his arms, “Um, good?” Another kiss restarted the clock and hopefully another ten years down the road he’d finally learn to cook.
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