Fic: His Girl Friday (9b/9)

[pen37]

Fic: His Girl Friday (9b/9)
Summary: He had to figure out where they stood.  Otherwise, they couldn't go forward 
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean, Jo
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: G

This is a part of the Special Projects series.  You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #58 Dinner.   The table is here.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9a, Part 9b

After changing clothes at a gas station along the way, Dean drove - under Chloe’s direction - for an hour through golden frosted farmland underneath a jewel-studded night sky until they reached the Kent farm.

The farmhouse was painted sunshine yellow - with a bright red barn and a silver silo.  Chloe knocked on the door, and spoke briefly with a tall, slightly-pudgy, balding African American.  Then she motioned Dean up to the porch.

“This is Jeff Ross.  I went to school with his little brother, Pete.  Jeff - Dean Winchester.”

The two of them nodded in the classic, wordless male greeting.

“So what’s going on?  Mrs. Kent said it was odd.”

Jeff shrugged.  “Something out there has been making the livestock nervous.  Then last night - one of the calves was slaughtered.”

“Did you save the carcass?” Chloe asked.

“You know the state laws, Chlo,” Jeff said.  “I’d have saved it for you if I could.  But I did take pictures.”

“Pete taught you well,” Chloe laughed.

“He went on enough of your adventures in school.”  Jeff handed her a stack of photos, which she passed to Dean.

Dean looked at the photos of the chewed-up carcass.  “These look like Coyote prints,” He pointed to the muddy paw prints around the carcass.

“That’s what I thought,” Jeff said.

“Look at the size of them,” Chloe whistled.  “That thing has got to have gotten into some meteor rocks, somewhere.  It’s probably the size of a V-dub.”

“Should I get my shotgun and help you?” Jeff asked.

“Nah,” Chloe shook her head.  “Me and Dean can handle it.  Next time you talk to Pete, tell him I said Hi.”

“Will do, Chlo.”  Jeff gave her a hug, before going back into the farmhouse.

Dean and Chloe went back to the Impala, and pulled a couple of shotguns from the trunk.

“So-mutated coyote.  That’s a new one for me.”

“And yet for me?  Old hat.”  Chloe checked her regular arsenal of weapons: the .45 under her arm, the hold out on her ankle and her flashlight before tucking the shotgun under the crook of her arm.

Dean loaded up his own pistols and knives before taking up a sawed-off and his own light.   Then they closed the trunk, and set off in search of the tracks.

“Considering that we had to cancel that fancy restaurant to go walking around the woods in search of this thing, you’re taking this well,” Dean said.

“I wasn’t letting myself build this date up into a huge event.  Eating at Chez Paul or blasting mutated Coyotes?  It’s all good.”

“So you had low expectations?”

“Don’t do that,” Chloe said angrily.  She stopped to glare at him.

“What?”  He shot her a look of confusion over his shoulder.

“Don’t assume that the only reason that I’m here with you is because I’ve set my standards low.”

Dean sighed, but chose not to say anything.  He didn’t want to argue with her.  Not tonight.  Though they were hunting, it was technically still a date.   They found the tracks quickly, and followed them across the Kent farmland.

“Is it so hard for you to believe that someone might willingly want to spend their free time with you?” She sounded exasperated.

“Doing what?” Dean looked at her in askance.  “I’m good at two things, Chloe.  And both of them happen in the dark.”

“Getting to know you?”  Chloe sighed.  “And you’re good at a lot of things, Dean.”

“Like what?”

“Well for one thing, you’ve got this amazing ability to fit in just about anywhere.”

Dean blinked.

“Seriously, if we’d spent much more time at The Planet, you would have had your own job there.”

“Actually?  I kinda did.”

“What?”

“Perry offered me a job.”

Chloe’s steps faltered.  In the glow of her flashlight, he could see a pleased expression chase the faint surprise across her face.  “I didn’t - he knew you?”

“We rode up on the elevator together.  He said that it was cheaper than sending a real photographer chasing after you.”

“And that just proves my point.  Besides - you’ve been paid and published.  You are a real photographer.”

“Whatever,” Dean said.

“And Sam adores you.”

“Sam’s my little brother.  He has to adore me.  It’s the rules.”

“So?  Lois and Lucy barely tolerate each other.  In fact, I’m closer to Lois than she is.”

Dean clenched his jaw. She wasn’t going to let this go.  “Sam and I-we’re all each other has.  Of course we’re going to be close.”

“That’s not true either,” she said.

“What?”  Dean wanted to stop and pound his head.

“It doesn’t always take blood to be family, Dean.”  She gave him a patient look.  “Family are the people who love you even when you aren’t very loveable.

“Sometimes they’re army-brat cousins and the farm family that you thought had to be Amish when you were fourteen.  And the self-absorbed cheerleader and the short little guy who let you bully him into writing the sports page.   And the Elvis-loving editor whose bark is worse than his bite, and the thirty or forty wackos who prance around wearing tights when they should be wearing Kevlar.

“And the two guys who let you crawl into the back of their car, and hauled you around the country while they taught you how to hunt ghosts.”

Her gaze turned hard as she looked at him.  “You have so many people who care for you.  Bobby, Ellen, Jo . . . Me.”

“You saying you think of me as family?”  Dean looked at her in awe.  “You saying you care?”

“I care, Dean.” She swallowed convulsively, and nodded.

Dean hooked his arm around her waist and hauled her to him.  “So are you my girl or what?”

“On one condition.” She looked up at him with serious eyes.

“What?”

“No foolin’ around.”

“If you’re my girl, Chloe, I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“No,” she shook her head.  “I mean us. No sex.”

He stared at her in an open-mouthed expression.  What the hell?  He worked his jaw like a fish, but no sound came out.

Chloe took pity on him and gave him a sympathetic smile.   “You said that the only two things that you’re good at are things that you do in the dark.  I’m going to show you that you’re good at a lot of things.  I’m going to make you believe that you’re the kind of guy that is worth something.  Until you really believe that for yourself, we’re not going to take our relationship to the next level.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Dean looked at her in exasperation.

“I’m dead serious Dean.   I want you to understand how important you are. And not just for things that involve losing your pants.”

***

Dean shook his head, threw up his hands, and stalked away.  He’d gone all of three steps, when something large, black and hairy bounded out of the woods, bearing down on him.  He whirled and blasted it.

The thing let out a loud, wounded sound.  It fell to the ground, skidded to his feet and was still.

Chloe hurried over with her flashlight as Dean rolled it over.  As predicted, it was a big, mutated Coyote.  To be on the safe side, Dean stuck Chloe’s shotgun down its throat, and blasted it again.  Then he took his own .45 and shot it three more times in the heart.

He looked up at Chloe with an exasperated expression.  “Well, that went well.”

Chloe sighed; she wasn’t sure if he was talking about the hunt, or their date.

They walked back to the car in a dead silence.  Chloe wondered if maybe Dean was re-thinking this whole thing.  If her “no sex” edict was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

She wouldn’t admit it to him, but her reasons for the rule weren’t completely altruistic.  Dean had a reputation.  And she’d be lying if she said that she was comfortable with it.  By stalling him on the physical front, she could give herself the time and reassurance that maybe he wasn’t going to dump her the second she gave him what he wanted.

But now, she wondered if this was it.  If he was going to dump her in Metropolis and show her the taillights.  At least he would be a gentleman about it.  She was certain that he wouldn’t kick her out halfway.

Just as they made it back to the farmhouse, Dean’s phone rang.  He looked at the ID, before looking up at her.  “It’s Sam.”

Chloe turned to go tell Jeff that the coyote was dead, when she heard Dean’s voice climb in fear. “Where the hell is my brother, Gordon?”

She whirled and saw the look of absolute fear and rage mingled on his face.  With a sinking feeling, she pulled out her own phone and called Jo’s roadhouse.

On the tenth ring, Jo picked up.  She sounded - sleepy, groggy, or possibly concussed.  “’Lo?”

“Jo?  What happened?”

“Uh - Walker.  He knocked me out.  Has Sam.  I’ll kill--”

Chloe glanced over at Dean’s face, which was twisted in murderous rage.  “Get in line.  I think you might have a spot behind Dean, if there’s anything left.  Did Gordon say where he went?”

“Just knocked me out.  Didn’t say.”

“Okay.  I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Nuh - no.” Jo said stubbornly. “Mike.  Get Mike.”

Chloe pulled her new pen from her pocket and wrote Mike’s number across her palm.

“Okay, Jo. Stay awake.  I’ll call.”  She dialed Mike’s phone, and after securing a promise from the fairee to help Jo, she hung up and ran to the door of the farmhouse.  Jeff looked a little concerned at her distraught expression.

“The critter is dead, Jeff.  We had a family emergency come up, and we gotta go.”

“But --” His expression seemed to ask her what the hell was going on.

“Got to go!” she emphasized.  “Family emergency.”

With that, she turned and ran for the car.

Dean hung up the phone as she was getting there, and threw it on the ground.  “Son of a - “ He screamed to the sky in articulate rage.  He looked like he might do some kind of violence to the Impala next.  Chloe hastily wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him out of range of his beloved car.  “I’ll kill him,”  he muttered darkly.  “I should have done it back when I had the chance.”

“Relax,” Chloe said soothingly.  “You can’t help Sam like this.”

Dean sighed.  “Gordon Walker has Sam.”

“I know.  I called Jo.  He knocked her around pretty good.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“You get first crack,” Chloe nodded.  “I think Jo wants to be next.  Ellen will probably want to cut a hunk of steak out of his hide for Jo.”

“What about you?” Dean asked.

“Somebody has to think rationally while the rest of you sharpen the pitchforks and ready the torches,” Chloe chuckled mirthlessly.  “I’m good at that.  Why do you think I’m Watchtower for the Justice League?  So what does he want?”

“Revenge.  Gordon’s a psycho.  And he doesn’t like Sam because of his powers.”

“Which means he probably wouldn’t like me much either.”

“He’s never getting near you,” Dean said viciously.  “I’ll kill him first.”

“Woah, there.  Ease up, Dirty Harry.  We have to find him first.  And it would help if we knew where he was.  Now tell me what he wanted.”

“He has Sam.”  Dean shook his head.  “A while back, we got him sent to jail.  But while he was there, he cut some kind of deal with the FBI.  If I turn myself in at the nearest police station, he’ll surrender Sam to the cops, too.”

Chloe shook her head.  “Okay, we can work with this.”

Dean shook his head, but she could see a thread of hope in his eyes.  “How?”

“I can figure out where he’s got Sam.  Maybe I can arrange a rescue.  But we have to stall things a bit.”

“Stall?  How? What do you have in mind?”

“Obviously you can’t turn yourself in here.  Not while reporters know you as Dean Kent.  Not with the Lexcorp cable media machine.  That would blow your cover, and it might wreck Mrs. Kent’s political career.  Not to mention Clark’s job at the paper.  But--” She trailed off as a new idea hit her.

“What?”

“Gotham.  I know the owners of the paper there, and Batman has connections in the police station stretching all the way up to the commissioner.  Turn yourself in there, and I think we could keep things quiet and put off your FBI friends long enough to find Sam and get you free.”

Dean nodded.  “Okay, Chloe.   I trust you on this.”

She smiled back at him.  “Are you okay to drive?”

He nodded.  “Will you ride next to me?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he said as they headed toward the car.  “I hope you can handle traveling light.  We’re not going back to Metropolis.  We’re going to Gotham.”

“I think I can make arrangements,” Chloe said with a wry smile as she climbed into the car and scooted next to him.

He put his arm around her, pulled her close to him as he steered the Impala onto the road, and pointed it east.  “That’s my girl.”