Gift for purple_moon123, part three
Title: Masquerade part 3
Request: After Season 1, Gabe and Chloe move and she reunites with Clark on his first day at The Daily Planet
Type: Fic
For: purple_moon123
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 12, 665
Summary: Chloe hasn’t seen Clark in ten years, but some feelings never change.
Author’s Note: Per the prompt, nothing past Vortex (2.01) applies to what happened with Chloe and Clark. Also this Cat Grant is very much the Lois and Clark version and even Perry here has a bit of Elvis-inspired love.
Chapter Three
Okay so she was an idiot.
She was a massive moron, practically blind. Of course Clark Kent had powers. How could she have been so confused for so long. She’d known his adoption was a scam, had heard about Pete and the story of Clark pushing a kid through a door at six. She’d seen him punch through ice and drag a coffin out of the ground one handed and with no shovel in sight. Hell, that book hadn’t just appeared from nowhere in the loft on day one just like Clark never found a short cut to a bus. Ever.
He was at least very fast and inhumanly strong. She’d seen that much when he’d torn through steel like it was tinfoil.
And yet, some small part of her hadn’t fit the final pieces together back in Smallville. After the dance, she’d been so angry because she was certain Clark’s insistence on leaving for Lana and the bus depot was because he’d been regretting his choice. She’d been so damn certain of it. Except someone who moved faster than a person could see and could tear through metal, maybe they really could save someone’s life in the middle of a tornado.
God, maybe he had.
If only she’d known and not been so convinced he couldn’t love her. Maybe she’d have begged her dad to stay at the plant for a lower salary, maybe a lot of things. But that didn’t answer everything. She’d known it was Clark the second she’d seen him. Slightly different hair and spandex weren’t going to trick her. Still, she figured he’d have freaked out if she let him know she knew. He’d always been skittish when she mentioned she noticed he had abilities before. Things still didn’t add up. Clark had been terrified to enter that room and, yeah, it had been creepy with the weird green glow but he seemed convinced even a single step in and he’d be passed out on the floor.
Why the vigilante act anyway? And why the terrible outfit with the symbol that seemed oddly familiar. Wait? Hadn’t Pete sent her a copy of an article about Clark accidentally discovering some caves in Granville? Okay, she’d bite. Why the Hell was he dressed like a trapeze artist with Kawatche on his chest?
God, it could be ten years ago and, once again, the mystery of Clark Kent was clear as mud. The only thing she knew for sure was that Clark wasn’t normal and, while he clearly was trying to separate himself from the guy at the Planet (questionable sartorial choices or not), he was actually being out and about with his abilities.
She just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on than the usual meteor rock answer, but Chloe wasn’t sure what.
Taking a deep breath, she plastered on a fake smile and walked off the elevator. Clark had never been great at hiding his differences before. If she confronted him about last night directly, then he’d clam up and never tell her anything. Hell, he’d probably get all constipated looking, flare his nostrils, and yell like he had as a kid. She doubt he’d grown out of that. If she played it cool, well, poor Clark would make enough slips on his own over time to give her a better idea of what she was dealing with. So, even if she were no longer blonde, she was going to play that dumb blonde role anyway.
“Clark, hey, how was your night last night?”
His eyes were wide, panicked for a moment, and then he adjusted his glasses (vision problems her ass) and shrugged. “Nothing. I’m still unpacking my place.”
“Lane, Kent!” Perry called. “I need you in here, now.”
Chloe hustled up and rushed with Clark. She’d learned long ago not to keep the chief waiting. “What’s up?”
“Oh, this,” he said, turning the TV to HLN. Chloe whistled as she watched blurry cellphone video of Clark---well in the outfit---dragging two robbers from a bank. He’d then used a street lamp’s pole to bend around and restrain them and blurred off too fast to stay in frame seconds later. “They’re calling him the Samaritan so far. I hate the name, but why is a damn national news network airing this crap on cable when my best reporters are sitting on their asses drinking coffee?”
“I’ve been here five minutes,” she countered.
“That’s five minutes too late,” he said. “Get to Metropolis First National and get the story. I want names. I want origins. I want to know if he’s as crazy as that Bat-Guy or is going to pull a Robin Hood like The Green Arrow. So now!”
Chloe didn’t have to be told twice. She dragged Clark with her to the elevator. First National was only three blocks from their office. They could walk there before they could even catch a cab in this shit traffic. On the way down, she noticed that Clark was fidgeting, picking at his finger nails and trying not to look her in the eye.
“So crazy huh?”
“What?” he asked, and, God, had he decided to do this without acting lessons first? Clark was always the worst liar and his face and wide eyes just screamed guilty to someone looking. Amateur.
“Metropolis? Our own superpowered vigilante? I mean there’s whispers of that Manhunter thing in New York, right? But no one’s ever gotten him on video,” she said, hopping out of the elevator as it opened in the lobby. Clark trailed after her, taking one step for every three of hers. Damn tall people. “Then Bat-Guy, well, we know he’s real but he and The Green Arrow seem pretty human, you know?”
Clark stiffened. “What do you mean ‘human?’”
Okay so he wanted to play this out, fine. If Clark thought he’d fooled her for five damn minutes, then he really didn’t think much of either her memory or her investigative skill. “He’s faster than a speeding bullet and can bend metal like it was nothing. At the very least? That Samaritan guy is a Smallville Meteor mutant. I mean, Tina Greer was pretty damn strong. But, you know, maybe he’s a something else.”
“That’s a bit rude,” Clark said, bumbling and apologizing around the throng of people on the sidewalk. He was still far too Smallville; Chloe just ploughed through them. They were taking up her sidewalk, after all.
“Oh, come on. He’s either a meta or like a cyborg or an alien or whatever, but he’s not human either. I’m not saying it’s a problem, per se,” she added, digging that in a little. She didn’t care if Clark were part god, but if he thought lying to her was cool, well, he got what he got. “Shame though.”
“What? How do you mean?”
“Gotham ate the Bat-Guy alive. No one trusts him. He needed a PR agent, you know? If this guy would talk to someone, he could have a shot. If he doesn’t? Man, LexCorp media will crucify him worse than they ever did the GA.”
**
Clark wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
No, scratch that. This was a terrible idea. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. His mom and dad made him swear he’d blur in and out and, even if he was caught on TV or security footage, he’d always be gone so fast that no one could talk to him. He wasn’t supposed to be landing on the balcony of the most famous reporter in the city asking for an interview.
It wasn’t even very modest.
But Chloe’s points had been valid. The Green Arrow had been resented for a while because of his stealing and his reputation in The Inquisitor. The Bat-Guy was hated by everyone. He was already an alien with almost unlimited powers, and he didn’t need a leg up in being hated by crowds. Besides, already all the cable news stations and the aforementioned Inquisitor were speculating on what he was and some of the answers were insulting. He wasn’t some engineered super weapon from Russia and he wasn’t a genetically spliced secret soldier or an Atlantean, which, okay Inquisitor, what the Hell?
But the people were already getting restless and nervous and if he had “Lois Lane” on his side, maybe things would be easier.
That’s what he’d tell his parents. Then they’d see it his way and not murder him.
Sure.
Clark landed silently on the balcony and knocked on the French doors. It was already eleven. He’d patrolled first and debated coming over at all, but he knew Chloe. She still had those pics from the lab two days ago to analyze. She’d be showing them to Perry tomorrow since all anyone had wanted to talk about was the Samaritan. With that evidence weighing on her mind, Chloe would be up half the night. He had not, however, expected her to come to the door in sushi pajamas and fluffy monkey slippers.
Clearly, she hadn’t lied about not dating a lot recently.
When she saw him, she startled and brought a hand to her chest. “Are you kidding me?”
He shrugged and tapped on the door one more time. “Can I ask a favor?”
Chloe frowned and pulled open the sliding glass door. “It’s almost midnight and the most wanted vigilante---”
“I prefer the term ‘superhero,’” he griped.
“Fine, the most wanted man in the city is on my balcony. How can I possibly help you and how did you get up here?”
“I, uh, flew,” he said, and please don’t let him blush. He was trying to be cool and aloof and do a decent interview, assuming she wanted to speak with him.
Chloe’s mouth fell open. “Huh?”
“I can fly,” he said and he forced himself to keep his eyes locked with hers. It was a weird sentence to say out loud. He’d only ever talked about his powers with his parents before and Pete, and the less said about Pete’s time as confidant, the better. “I can do a lot of things.”
“People can’t fly.”
“Well, how else did I get to a tenth story balcony? Do you see a grappling hook?”
Chloe laughed and it would have come across as more condescending if she weren’t in monkey slippers with matching banana bows. “No, but that’s gravity. People can’t do that. Nothing that can’t flap can.” Clark shrugged and hovered about three feet above the floor. Chloe’s eyes widened and she knelt down to run her hands under him, as if he’d brought wires with him. “Whoa, that’s smoking cool.”
Clark landed fast then and was glad she’d scooted away. He’d never had anyone tell him that about his powers before. Even if they’d signed off on his alter ego plan, they were mostly about helping him hide it or hide his connection to “Clark Kent.” Pete had wanted him to use them like a vending machine or to steal expensive cars. But he’d never seen anyone look at him with the unbridled amazement she did.
It warmed his heart.
“I just do it. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Um, yeah, it is. That’s cool. So what else can you do?”
“I’m not a trained seal.”
“No, but you’re the one knocking on my door and showing off. So, what are you here for? I’m still doing some photoshop touch up on the pics from last night. There’s some graininess I was trying to weed out, get it sharp for my boss. I can’t help you there.”
“No, actually, well, I was thinking.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Ch…Lois come on. I think I need help with the media. You’re kind of the person to go to, everyone’s heard of you.”
“Apparently even fledgling superheroes. You’re kidding right?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that. I need help and I don’t want to be the Bat-Guy of Metropolis. I want people to know that I’m a friend, and I’m here to help.”
Chloe’s smile widened and she patted his shoulder. “I think I can help with that, but, first you have to tell me what your good side is. Perry’s going to want pics.”
Request: After Season 1, Gabe and Chloe move and she reunites with Clark on his first day at The Daily Planet
Type: Fic
For: purple_moon123
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 12, 665
Summary: Chloe hasn’t seen Clark in ten years, but some feelings never change.
Author’s Note: Per the prompt, nothing past Vortex (2.01) applies to what happened with Chloe and Clark. Also this Cat Grant is very much the Lois and Clark version and even Perry here has a bit of Elvis-inspired love.
Chapter Three
Okay so she was an idiot.
She was a massive moron, practically blind. Of course Clark Kent had powers. How could she have been so confused for so long. She’d known his adoption was a scam, had heard about Pete and the story of Clark pushing a kid through a door at six. She’d seen him punch through ice and drag a coffin out of the ground one handed and with no shovel in sight. Hell, that book hadn’t just appeared from nowhere in the loft on day one just like Clark never found a short cut to a bus. Ever.
He was at least very fast and inhumanly strong. She’d seen that much when he’d torn through steel like it was tinfoil.
And yet, some small part of her hadn’t fit the final pieces together back in Smallville. After the dance, she’d been so angry because she was certain Clark’s insistence on leaving for Lana and the bus depot was because he’d been regretting his choice. She’d been so damn certain of it. Except someone who moved faster than a person could see and could tear through metal, maybe they really could save someone’s life in the middle of a tornado.
God, maybe he had.
If only she’d known and not been so convinced he couldn’t love her. Maybe she’d have begged her dad to stay at the plant for a lower salary, maybe a lot of things. But that didn’t answer everything. She’d known it was Clark the second she’d seen him. Slightly different hair and spandex weren’t going to trick her. Still, she figured he’d have freaked out if she let him know she knew. He’d always been skittish when she mentioned she noticed he had abilities before. Things still didn’t add up. Clark had been terrified to enter that room and, yeah, it had been creepy with the weird green glow but he seemed convinced even a single step in and he’d be passed out on the floor.
Why the vigilante act anyway? And why the terrible outfit with the symbol that seemed oddly familiar. Wait? Hadn’t Pete sent her a copy of an article about Clark accidentally discovering some caves in Granville? Okay, she’d bite. Why the Hell was he dressed like a trapeze artist with Kawatche on his chest?
God, it could be ten years ago and, once again, the mystery of Clark Kent was clear as mud. The only thing she knew for sure was that Clark wasn’t normal and, while he clearly was trying to separate himself from the guy at the Planet (questionable sartorial choices or not), he was actually being out and about with his abilities.
She just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on than the usual meteor rock answer, but Chloe wasn’t sure what.
Taking a deep breath, she plastered on a fake smile and walked off the elevator. Clark had never been great at hiding his differences before. If she confronted him about last night directly, then he’d clam up and never tell her anything. Hell, he’d probably get all constipated looking, flare his nostrils, and yell like he had as a kid. She doubt he’d grown out of that. If she played it cool, well, poor Clark would make enough slips on his own over time to give her a better idea of what she was dealing with. So, even if she were no longer blonde, she was going to play that dumb blonde role anyway.
“Clark, hey, how was your night last night?”
His eyes were wide, panicked for a moment, and then he adjusted his glasses (vision problems her ass) and shrugged. “Nothing. I’m still unpacking my place.”
“Lane, Kent!” Perry called. “I need you in here, now.”
Chloe hustled up and rushed with Clark. She’d learned long ago not to keep the chief waiting. “What’s up?”
“Oh, this,” he said, turning the TV to HLN. Chloe whistled as she watched blurry cellphone video of Clark---well in the outfit---dragging two robbers from a bank. He’d then used a street lamp’s pole to bend around and restrain them and blurred off too fast to stay in frame seconds later. “They’re calling him the Samaritan so far. I hate the name, but why is a damn national news network airing this crap on cable when my best reporters are sitting on their asses drinking coffee?”
“I’ve been here five minutes,” she countered.
“That’s five minutes too late,” he said. “Get to Metropolis First National and get the story. I want names. I want origins. I want to know if he’s as crazy as that Bat-Guy or is going to pull a Robin Hood like The Green Arrow. So now!”
Chloe didn’t have to be told twice. She dragged Clark with her to the elevator. First National was only three blocks from their office. They could walk there before they could even catch a cab in this shit traffic. On the way down, she noticed that Clark was fidgeting, picking at his finger nails and trying not to look her in the eye.
“So crazy huh?”
“What?” he asked, and, God, had he decided to do this without acting lessons first? Clark was always the worst liar and his face and wide eyes just screamed guilty to someone looking. Amateur.
“Metropolis? Our own superpowered vigilante? I mean there’s whispers of that Manhunter thing in New York, right? But no one’s ever gotten him on video,” she said, hopping out of the elevator as it opened in the lobby. Clark trailed after her, taking one step for every three of hers. Damn tall people. “Then Bat-Guy, well, we know he’s real but he and The Green Arrow seem pretty human, you know?”
Clark stiffened. “What do you mean ‘human?’”
Okay so he wanted to play this out, fine. If Clark thought he’d fooled her for five damn minutes, then he really didn’t think much of either her memory or her investigative skill. “He’s faster than a speeding bullet and can bend metal like it was nothing. At the very least? That Samaritan guy is a Smallville Meteor mutant. I mean, Tina Greer was pretty damn strong. But, you know, maybe he’s a something else.”
“That’s a bit rude,” Clark said, bumbling and apologizing around the throng of people on the sidewalk. He was still far too Smallville; Chloe just ploughed through them. They were taking up her sidewalk, after all.
“Oh, come on. He’s either a meta or like a cyborg or an alien or whatever, but he’s not human either. I’m not saying it’s a problem, per se,” she added, digging that in a little. She didn’t care if Clark were part god, but if he thought lying to her was cool, well, he got what he got. “Shame though.”
“What? How do you mean?”
“Gotham ate the Bat-Guy alive. No one trusts him. He needed a PR agent, you know? If this guy would talk to someone, he could have a shot. If he doesn’t? Man, LexCorp media will crucify him worse than they ever did the GA.”
**
Clark wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
No, scratch that. This was a terrible idea. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this. His mom and dad made him swear he’d blur in and out and, even if he was caught on TV or security footage, he’d always be gone so fast that no one could talk to him. He wasn’t supposed to be landing on the balcony of the most famous reporter in the city asking for an interview.
It wasn’t even very modest.
But Chloe’s points had been valid. The Green Arrow had been resented for a while because of his stealing and his reputation in The Inquisitor. The Bat-Guy was hated by everyone. He was already an alien with almost unlimited powers, and he didn’t need a leg up in being hated by crowds. Besides, already all the cable news stations and the aforementioned Inquisitor were speculating on what he was and some of the answers were insulting. He wasn’t some engineered super weapon from Russia and he wasn’t a genetically spliced secret soldier or an Atlantean, which, okay Inquisitor, what the Hell?
But the people were already getting restless and nervous and if he had “Lois Lane” on his side, maybe things would be easier.
That’s what he’d tell his parents. Then they’d see it his way and not murder him.
Sure.
Clark landed silently on the balcony and knocked on the French doors. It was already eleven. He’d patrolled first and debated coming over at all, but he knew Chloe. She still had those pics from the lab two days ago to analyze. She’d be showing them to Perry tomorrow since all anyone had wanted to talk about was the Samaritan. With that evidence weighing on her mind, Chloe would be up half the night. He had not, however, expected her to come to the door in sushi pajamas and fluffy monkey slippers.
Clearly, she hadn’t lied about not dating a lot recently.
When she saw him, she startled and brought a hand to her chest. “Are you kidding me?”
He shrugged and tapped on the door one more time. “Can I ask a favor?”
Chloe frowned and pulled open the sliding glass door. “It’s almost midnight and the most wanted vigilante---”
“I prefer the term ‘superhero,’” he griped.
“Fine, the most wanted man in the city is on my balcony. How can I possibly help you and how did you get up here?”
“I, uh, flew,” he said, and please don’t let him blush. He was trying to be cool and aloof and do a decent interview, assuming she wanted to speak with him.
Chloe’s mouth fell open. “Huh?”
“I can fly,” he said and he forced himself to keep his eyes locked with hers. It was a weird sentence to say out loud. He’d only ever talked about his powers with his parents before and Pete, and the less said about Pete’s time as confidant, the better. “I can do a lot of things.”
“People can’t fly.”
“Well, how else did I get to a tenth story balcony? Do you see a grappling hook?”
Chloe laughed and it would have come across as more condescending if she weren’t in monkey slippers with matching banana bows. “No, but that’s gravity. People can’t do that. Nothing that can’t flap can.” Clark shrugged and hovered about three feet above the floor. Chloe’s eyes widened and she knelt down to run her hands under him, as if he’d brought wires with him. “Whoa, that’s smoking cool.”
Clark landed fast then and was glad she’d scooted away. He’d never had anyone tell him that about his powers before. Even if they’d signed off on his alter ego plan, they were mostly about helping him hide it or hide his connection to “Clark Kent.” Pete had wanted him to use them like a vending machine or to steal expensive cars. But he’d never seen anyone look at him with the unbridled amazement she did.
It warmed his heart.
“I just do it. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Um, yeah, it is. That’s cool. So what else can you do?”
“I’m not a trained seal.”
“No, but you’re the one knocking on my door and showing off. So, what are you here for? I’m still doing some photoshop touch up on the pics from last night. There’s some graininess I was trying to weed out, get it sharp for my boss. I can’t help you there.”
“No, actually, well, I was thinking.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Ch…Lois come on. I think I need help with the media. You’re kind of the person to go to, everyone’s heard of you.”
“Apparently even fledgling superheroes. You’re kidding right?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that. I need help and I don’t want to be the Bat-Guy of Metropolis. I want people to know that I’m a friend, and I’m here to help.”
Chloe’s smile widened and she patted his shoulder. “I think I can help with that, but, first you have to tell me what your good side is. Perry’s going to want pics.”