For rathmaria: Glass Houses, Chapter 2
Prompt: (by Rathmaria) - Kal did something other than kick Chloe out during Exile, preferably smutty.
Rating: Mature
Words: 9837
Chapters: 4
Glass Houses
Chapter 2
Clark stopped next to his bed in front of the glass sliding doors that opened onto the balcony and stared outside at the gray sky. Of course Chloe would ignore the rest and zero in on the key detail. She never was one to indulge his guilt. Funny how she was right and wrong about the warning coming from his dad.
He heard Chloe rise from the couch and cross the apartment. The studio wasn't large. To join him in front of the glass doors, she had to brush against his back to squeeze past the bed. He swallowed hard, but continued to stare outside at the rest of the industrial looking apartment complex. A cloudy day was slipping into a shadowy evening.
She touched his arm and lowered her voice like someone was listening. "The man who warned you, is he why you ran? Is he the one that hurt you? What did he tell you?"
He frowned. She was so close, but he shook his head.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Bullshit," she said bluntly, exasperation edging her calm. "If you won't tell me, fine, but stop blaming me for why you can't."
He kept staring straight ahead. If he turned and took even a regular stride closer, she'd be trapped in the corner and it wouldn't be his back she was pressed up against. His thoughts shocked him. The ring was off, but maybe its habitual influence still lingered like a mental drug because he was incredibly tempted to turn and get close enough to figure out the exact fruit flavor that clung to her skin.
She was wrong. He didn't blame her and she had no idea how badly he wanted to tell her everything. For years, she'd hovered near the truth all on her own, unafraid and willing - no, not just willing, but eager to explore what made others cower. He’d never met anyone else like her.
A sudden thought struck Clark. Jor-El showed him a vision of his parents and Lana and said they'd served their purpose and that it was time to leave them in the past, but Jor-El's edict hadn't included Chloe. Was it coincidence that out of everyone, she'd found him? Or that she'd kept his location secret? And that he'd trusted her to do so? Was there any one else he wouldn't have run from?
Maybe it was his destiny for Chloe to find him. Maybe he didn't have to resist temptation.
For a moment he wavered, but new temptations fell to even older habits. His silence made his throat ache.
He had to say something. Reckless frustration goaded him to turn to face Chloe. He moved a little closer, but stayed back enough so she wasn't crowded into the wall. She was waiting expectantly, arms crossed and oblivious to the lines she toyed with crossing. He inhaled her sweet scent once again and ran his eyes discreetly down her body, knowing if he'd been wearing the ring, he'd be doing his best to persuade Chloe to show him those curves up close and intimate. He suppressed a shiver of desire. Now he had another reason to want the ring back.
"You really want to know everything?" he asked just above a gruff whisper.
The question was more than he had meant to say, but why was he letting habit hold him back from telling her? Left over rules from another life? As much as he wished he could return for his parents, he couldn't go back to the bucolic life he'd left behind in Smallville. But Chloe - Chloe had always been more of a city girl.
He leaned in a little more and braced a hand on the wall behind her
He watched Chloe's eyes get bigger, like she'd only just realized the intimacy of their position. The only way out would require her to scramble beneath his arm, maneuver around the bedside table and back over his bed. The pulse in her neck jumped and she pulled in an unsteady breath, but she held her ground.
"Yes, I do, but," she paused and unconsciously moistened her lips.
"But what?" He asked while he shuffled his feet closer and braced his other hand on the wall on the other side of her head, loosely trapping her further in the corner between his arms. Chloe shifted back as well, trying to keep a marginally reasonable space between them. By anyone else's standards, she failed, but they'd always had a close friendship. They were used to sharing each other's space. She treated the handspan between them like her own private bubble. She met the challenge in his eye with one of her own.
"But we both know you’re not going to tell me. That's what this is all about, right? The heavy looks, the lean in. It's a distraction." She waved her hand in front of her. She miscalculated the distance and ended up brushing her finger tips against his chest. He flinched and hissed at her touch. Immediately contrite, she snatched her hand back.
"Oh god, Clark, your scar, did I hurt you?"
"No. Not hurt."
She was wrong again. He hadn't planned a distraction, but he was distracted now as pure pleasure radiated from the nerve endings in the raised skin on his chest. More proof it was not a normal scar. Earlier, her soothing touch had felt good, which of itself was unusual. Other women had noticed his scar; it was hard to hide, but in the past, their touch had felt wrong, an extreme intrusion. Chloe's touch now brought more than just pleasure, it felt right. Like she was the one he'd been waiting for.
The feeling of rightness made him bolder. He pivoted his body and slid a foot between her feet, her shiny black, knee high boots rubbing against the denim of his jeans. Her tight skirt kept him from sliding in as close as he wished, but he at least made it clear he didn't want her going anywhere. He was pleased she wasn't trying to. She'd seen his scar earlier and been horrified on his behalf, but she wasn't acting repulsed, just concerned.
He took the hand she'd pulled back and set it on his chest. He reached for the other one and did the same. She stared at her hands resting on the dark blue fabric of his shirt and her breath started coming faster. He briefly left his hands as a cover over hers in case she tried to remove them, but her curiosity was already taking over. He caressed the soft fleshy part where her thumbs met her palm before skimming his hands back over her wrists and then the material of her dark red jacket before gently holding her by the shoulders, just resting his hands while she examined him.
Through his shirt, she gently traced the pattern of his scar starting at the middle and then moving up to the edges before following the whole shield shaped curve in tandem from the top toward the bottom. His abs jumped and he sucked in his breath as her hands met and lingered over where the sides formed a v shaped point on his lower stomach.
"As distractions go, this is a very, very good one," Chloe remarked deadpan.
He laughed, just a low huff, but it prompted her to blush and pull her hands away. He once again clasped them to his chest. "Don't stop."
Nervously, she gnawed on her lower lip and glanced up at him, but left her hands where they were.
"I really should. Because effective as it is, like I said - distraction - and yeah, I want to know what's going on, but if you don't want to tell me, I really wish you would respect me enough not to play games."
"I'm not playing. You want to know? I'll tell you. This scar," he held her palms flat to his chest, "my father gave it to me."
Chloe jerked her head to the side.
"Jonathan Kent gave you a scar... that glows?"
He shook his head and dived in.
"No, my biological father. The original asshole. He showed up and announced it was time for me to leave and start a new chapter in my life. That if I stayed, I'd only hurt those closest to me. And he was right."
Chloe shook her head, bunching his shirt in her fists. "It was an accident," she insisted. "Your mother was hurt in an accident."
"One I caused trying to defy Jor-El. I just reacted."
"Because you were hurt and angry and feeling betrayed. So you acted without thinking it through and made a deal…, I mean, came up with a plan and it went bad. People…we make mistakes. Sometimes, the only thing we can do is ask forgiveness. And believe me, I know that doesn’t seem like enough, but your mom is strong. Both your parents are. Right now what's hurting them is losing you."
He met her eyes. He read her sincerity and for a second, hope filled him. Maybe there was forgiveness to be found. Maybe he could go home. Then reality crashed in again.
"I can't go back. The scar is proof Jor-El isn't done with me."
"Is Jorel Scandinavian?" Chloe asked only to quickly shake her head. "Sorry, never mind that right now. Original asshole sounds about right. I don't care if he's your birth father or not. He has no right to show up in your life and start ordering you around. Why didn't you call the sheriff?"
Clark blinked blankly for a second before he caught up to Chloe's train of thought. Watching up close all the expressions flit across her face was kind of mesmerizing. And she kept doing things to her lower lip with her teeth as she worked the problem out. The wet little dents were distracting. There was that word again. He frowned and answered her question.
"He has the kind of power law enforcement can't do anything about."
A furrow appeared on Chloe's forehead and she tapped her pointer finger rhythmically against his chest, thinking. He was super aware of her hands still on his chest, but doubted she was. Had she even noticed when he moved his hands to her hips? Or how close they stood? He had flashbacks to their one dance last year before the tornado sirens interrupted. They'd been so close to that kiss.
"I suppose given we're talking guy who gives glowing scars, it's too much to hope you mean Jorel is wealthy and super connected?"
Again, it took him a moment to come back to what she was saying. Like so many times before, the intuitive leaps her mind made amazed him. Whatever his expression, it must have confirmed her guess.
"So are his powers meteor related?" She asked.
How could he answer that? Technically that was true since all the meteor rocks came with his arrival, but that wasn't accurate and he found he didn't want to mislead her, even if he didn't know how to explain. He shook his head.
"You wouldn't believe me if I..."
She poked him in the chest, cutting him off.
"Seriously? We're back to that?"
He studied her for a moment. Her jaw was set in mutinous lines and fire flashed in her green eyes. She held his steady gaze. Again the urge to tell her everything, all the impossible details, welled up inside and he made a decision. He would tell her, but that was the kind of conversation that could not be had quickly and he was...distracted with other things. He really wanted that kiss he'd missed out on last year. He tried to set the topic aside.
"Ok, it's not about what you would believe," he said, "but I don't want to talk about it now. Not tonight." His eyes dropped down to her lips and his hands tightened on her waist. As if in slow motion he lowered his head toward her mouth only to freeze inches away when she spoke.
"Ok." She quickly agreed, pulled back and flashed him a sweet smile; he was immediately wary.
"How about we talk about the red meteor rock?" She suggested, just as sweetly. Now he knew she was mad, but he wasn't sure why. "How does that fit in? Wearing it pushes you to do what you would never do normally, like your current and ongoing seduction distraction. But how does that in the long run help you against Jorel?"
Clark was confused. Current and ongoing seduction distraction? She still thought he was faking his interest or more specifically, that the red rock was doing it for him. He frowned. She was off about more than one thing, but one thing confused him the most.
"But I'm not wearing the ring," he pointed out. She blinked like she'd been caught saying something she shouldn't. What did that mean?
"Right. Of course, I only meant, umm...," she let her sentence trail off. A small frown appeared between her eyebrows. Her eyes flickered almost imperceptibly over his shoulder.
He twisted his head, but didn't see anything marring the silky blue comforter on his bed, an identical copy he'd "acquired" (along with the new mattress) after Morgan Edge's trigger happy goons shot up the last one. He looked at Chloe again, who was now determinedly meeting his gaze, and realized her glance hadn't been at the bed, but at the small, brown lacquered, bedside table currently denting the back of his thigh. He twisted around again, narrowed his eyes and confirmed his guess with his X-ray vision; he'd found his class ring.
He started to let Chloe go when she clutched his arms. "What are you doing?" She asked.
"Getting my ring. It's simpler that way."
"Don't. Please."
He let her stop him for the moment.
"Why does it matter? You already think it's affecting me."
"Are you saying it's not?" She challenged. "Because last I checked, the only girl you were interested in putting the moves on was Lana Lang."