All Chloe-centric and all fun!
Most of my entries are Chlean and one Chlark--
“Cat,” Chloe said, arranging the papers on her desk for the end of the work day. “Dates are a maybe in a blue moon kind of thing and blind dates are just leper colonies, okay?”
Cat Grant, the Daily Planet’s new society columnist, wouldn’t have it. Having taken Chloe under her wing when the young Sullivan had returned to the bullpen, Cat had slowly and surely reintroduced Chloe to life after so much sadness, disappointment and death.
“You’ll like him, he’s a great guy!” Cat protested. Her heavily make-up’d face gave her a look halfway between supermodel and Vegas madame.
Chloe pointed out the obvious, “Really? And with you still searching for Mister Tall Dark and Fabulous, why do I get the great guy cast offs?”
Rolling her eyes, Cat put her arms on Chloe’s shoulders and shook her a little, “This is not a proposal, it’s drinks with the option of dinner and the slight hope of getting laid. This is all the world can offer in such uncertain times,” she beamed.
With a sigh Chloe slumped and said, “Fine, fine, whatever.”
Clapping excitedly, Cat scribbled off his phone number and handed it to her young friend. “He’s in town for work, like I said, so you don’t have a lot of time. Call him!”
Chloe snatched the paper and with a grumpy and cross look on her face, glanced down to the paper. “Winchester? Cat, come on! I don’t do preppy yuppie assholes!”
“He’s not, I swear!”
“Dean Winchester? God,” she said, grabbing her handbag and tossing it over her shoulder, digging out her phone. With a grumble she said, “This has light beer written all over it.”
“I think I’m melting,” Chloe said, half hanging out of the window. Their choice of rooms consisted of either the small boiling box with the broken air conditioner or the slightly cooler small box with the king-sized bed. She tries to avoid lamenting: this was her choice afterall.
“It’s July in the flattest stretch of land in the country,” he offers as he tells himself he won’t stare at her rear. It’s right there and God, she had a nice ass, but last time she caught him checking her out—
She freezes, like a cat tensing in the heat of a hunt. “Are you staring at my butt?”
He darts his eyes to the computer screen. “Whaaaaat?” He croaks out weakly.
Turning, her green eyes meeting his, she smirks, “Uh huh.”
“Flattering yourself again, sweetheart,” Dean sneers and she’s still smirking. “You chose the room that was hotter than Hell.”
With a grin she said, “Yeah, but you’re the one who needs a cold shower now.”
Angelic Holy-Research Trip
“You know, when I said I wanted to go backpacking across Europe after graduation, I never really expected the subtitle would be Angelic Holy Research Trip,” Chloe said, hoisting the burden of her pack higher onto her shoulders.
Sam glomped over the rich red soil of Tuscany and held the map in his hands. “I think,” he looked up at the road signs, “The cathedral . . .” he looked back to the map. “Umm . . .”
Dean came by him and snatched the map. “Left,” he said after a few seconds and tossed the map back to his little brother and following the road to the left.
“Dean?” Sam said with a clearing of his throat. “Left?”
“Il secondo a sinistra,” he said, pointing down the hill from whence they climbed and up to the sign. “Second on the left.”
Sam was slack jawed, “Since when do you—”
Chloe rolled her eyes, stomping past them both, “Since Sofia decided to give him private lessons.”
Sam’s eyebrows raised, “Whoa, Sofia with the—” Hand gestures were then employed.
Dean grinned, “Ohhh yeah.”
Turning, Chloe pointedly asked, “Okay, what part of Angelic Holy Research Trip don’t you Neanderthals understand?”
“Everything about her was holy,” Dean chuckled and Chloe ground her teeth and marched on. “When we head back down to town, I’ll make sure to ask her how to say ‘jealous’ in Italian.”
Without turning around, Chloe called out, “Better also ask her why she had so much Valtrex in her medicine cabinet.”
Dean stopped moving. “That’s not funny.”
Smiling brightly, she kept walking, “Ciao!”
“I’m not so sure I like this plan,” Chloe said, her face set and angry, wearing the skimpiest outfit that ever skimped.
“You look great—” He began to assure her when she grabbed his collar, her small hands choking the life out of him.
“Dean, I always look great. I’d look great in a fucking burqa. I didn’t say a word about looking great, I was simply ragging on your oh so not-genius plan.”
“Chlo—” he choked and she released the tension . . . just a little. He had to remember to avoid any and ALL conflict with her. He, Sam and Cas never expected to discover, when Anna was punished for her fall, that when her Grace was sent back to Earth it would crash land on the head of this small ball of energy. The tallest building in all of Metropolis had been destroyed by the power and the sole survivor had been a re-vamped Chloe Sullivan. “Chlo, you do realize you’ve got full on super powers so being freaked by a bunch of freaks is kinda . . .” She narrowed her eyes and yeah, he was totally avoiding the words silly, stupid or anything referring to being a female. “Umm . . . perfectly natural.”
She released him with a huff. “Nice try.” Looking herself up and down the mirror she couldn’t believe the get up they’d put her in. How the Hell was a golden lasso and a breastplate supposed to help her infiltrate an ancient demi-godlike society?
“I look ridiculous.”
“You look WONDERful.”
Happily Ever After
Chloe peeped from the back seat, her laptop on her lap as the Impala sped down the highway at ten miles avoid the speed-limit of Oh my Effing GOD! “We could start all of this once upon a time. It’s classic, true to the genre and is such a staple no one could dare call it contrived or cliché. I mean, no one’s gonna buy any of this as the truth so might as well get it into the collective consciousness through subversive means, right?”
“Did you understand a word of that?” Dean asked, smirking in the rearview mirror and catching her exasperated expression.
“Though, since this is the first in a series, I might avoid the happily ever after bit, though.”
“Cause the story’s not over?” Sam asked from the front passenger’s side, looking back to the girl who was furiously typing out their first adventure on the road and her, surprisingly, umpteenth fight with the supernatural.
She shrugged, “No. I mean, they’re all episodic so it won’t really matter. But happily ever after, that’s fairytale stuff. We don’t know if this will all end up okay in the end. Most likely it won’t, right?” She asked, the residual bitterness of a past hurt was clear in her voice.
Her words seemed to through a pall over the interior and no one spoke for a while, only the engine and her fingers making any sound until Dean said, “Well, if no one’s gonna believe any of this is true, might as well give people hope.”
“Even if the hope doesn’t exist?” She absently asked, her eyes on the screen.
“Chloe?” He called out, her head lifting and their eyes meeting.
She didn’t know what to say. She had nothing she could say. Instead, after a few minutes of intense internal debate, she henpecked the words, ‘And they all lived Happily Ever After.’
It had been a year and all alone, she’d moved on. Rebuilding her life by herself, her family torn, her friends scattered to the ends of the Earth. What does the heart of a group do when only the heart remains?
It moves on and her life took on a semblance of peace and happiness and direction, finally. Being able to smile again then hearing her own laughter. These were unexpected things. Beautiful things. Essential things. Having a life emerge from ash was her happiness.
“Chloe?” She hears his voice behind her and the unexpected enters her life once again but is it beautiful? Is it essential?
Turning to face him, Chloe looked into his dark and desolate eyes. Immediately she wonders, had he found his truth? When he looked her in the face and told her humanity was his curse, did he find some solace in being alone from the rest of the world? Why had he come back, she wondered? After all, wasn’t she too human? Wasn’t she too the problem with humanity?
Too much emotion.
She smiled. It was her beautiful thing. Her essential thing. Her happiness was her ability to let go.
To Clark, of everything he’d pictured in this reunion, her smile was most unexpected.
When she turned back around, ignoring him, that was expected.
"YOU DID THE DIRTY WITH A WINCHESTER?!"
“How exactly are you defining dirty?” Lois asked, blushing fiercely and hopping out of the bed, pulling the sheets from Sam’s naked form.
Chloe’s eyes bulged and she about-faced, her cheeks brightening like a falling star. “Dirty as in WHY IS SAM NAKED?!”
“Chloe?” Dean called, rushing down the hallway only to stop dead at the room door, seeing his baby brother scramble to grab a pillow and shield himself. “YOU DID THE DIRTY WITH LANE?!” He yelled, about facing with Chloe.
Lois instantly dropped her embarrassment and pinched her features, “Listen, jackass—”
Chloe clung to Dean, “My eyes,” she gasped.
He clung to her, “It’s like falling into an icy lake.”
Sam huffed, “You’re both assholes, you know?”
Chloe and Dean snorted, walking out of the room, stifling giggles.
All Chloe-centric and all fun!