sv fic: christopher and winnie
Chloe knows what the perfect job is. Chloe-centric. Chloe/Clark friendship. Pg. 2470 words. S8 au.
a/n: Written for tobywolf13's Chloe's Career Change Challenge. Don't forget to visit the master post and see all the entries. There's voting over here
Oh, and there is a reason for the title.
The air this early in the morning is mild. It’s warm, but not hot like it will be later on in the day. The sky isn’t yet a hazy pale color; for now it’s a long stretch of uninterrupted deep blue. In the air is the smell of grass and apples. Chloe breathes in deeply as she crosses the dirt driveway then the grassy front yard.
Like always, she doesn’t knock. She barges in, calling out, “Clark?”
“In the kitchen,” he replies.
She shuts the front door firmly. Her footsteps are light against the polished hardwood floor. In a minute she enters the kitchen, finding Clark seated at the kitchen table, pen in hand. An application is spread across the table, the white paper a sharp contrast to the dark wood. She gets closer and sees the words Daily Planet.
“Okay, put that away.”
He glances up. “What?”
“Put it away, rip it up. Do whatever, but make it disappear.” She pulls out a chair and takes a seat, across from Clark. The wood is cool against her bare legs. “I have the perfect new job for us,” she adds.
“You do?”
“Private detectives,” Chloe says with a smile.
“Chloe…”
“No, it’s perfect. We can transform the ISIS office into an office for our private detective practice.”
“I think you’ve watched way too many episodes of Veronica Mars and Angel. We can’t be private detectives.”
“And why not?”
Clark lays his elbows on the table. “For one, we have no training. Two, I think the Daily Planet might be the best place for me. I want to help people.”
Chloe nods, but disagrees with what he has said. She will convince him; she has every reason to believe she can. “First, I have a license to be a private detective, not that it’s required in this jurisdiction. Still, I have a license.”
“You do?”
“I thought it might come in handy with what we do,” she explains. That had been her thought process a year ago, when she had gotten the license. Now it seemed like fate that she had gotten it.
“Fine, you have a license. I don’t.”
“It’s not hard to get one. In a month I’ll have you licensed. Next objection?”
“This isn’t a joking matter,” he says.
“I know that.” She keeps her voice calm, level. “And I’m not joking. I really think this is the best thing for us. It’ll give us a front for your superhero activities and I can cover the regular clients and make sure we have money to live on.”
“What does Jimmy say?”
“Jimmy isn’t the boss of me. If this is what I want, I expect him to support me.”
“So you haven’t talked to him?”
“Again, it’s my life. It’s my career,” Chloe says. She wills Clark to drop the subject, because she has no plans to discuss it any further. Jimmy doesn’t control her actions and if he can’t deal then she’ll deal with that. Jimmy is only a guy after all and it’s not like she needs a guy to be happy. “Next objection?”
Clark sighs. “The same as before: I think the Daily Planet might be the best place for me. It’ll give me access that I need.”
“Okay, I have to dispel a few myths. A is that the Daily Planet is currently controlled by Luthorcorp. Do you really want to work for an evil corporation? B is that you’d be in obits if they hired you; you’re not going to have any access on a regular basis. C is that your editor is going to assign anything important to someone will more experience. I’m sorry, but working at the paper isn’t going to provide the opportunities to truly help people.”
She watches Clark’s face. Disappointment spreads then fades rapidly. It’s not that she likes shattering his ideas, his hopes, but in this case she has no other choice. Working at the Daily Planet is all wrong for Clark and his desire to take a more active role in being a superhero.
“How will working as a private detective help me aid others?” he asks. His tone has changed: no longer does he sound amused. Now he sounds serious and his inquiry is made in that tone of voice.
“We’ll have a police scanner. Unlike at the Daily Planet, we can have it on all day and that would be fine. We’ll stick it and you in the office Lana used and I’ll have the desk in the main area.”
“Are you sure? I thought you’d want the private office.”
Admittedly she would like an office. Playing receptionist isn’t her ideal thing to do, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Chloe knows Clark will need the office to have the freedom to listen to the police scanner and to disappear at a moment’s notice. Logic dictates she cover the receptionist function, especially since hiring a receptionist isn’t feasible right now nor will it ever be feasible. A receptionist might wonder why and how Clark leaves so often.
Thus, for her idea to work, Chloe knows and accepts that she’ll need to be the receptionist as well as the partner. But since she thinks this is really the best career for her and Clark, she’s willing to do that. This is a sacrifice she’s willing to make for the greater good.
She does like that Clark seems to have warmed up to the idea. He’s not protesting any longer. That pleases her and makes her content with her choices.
“Yes, I’m sure Clark. Just don’t think you’ll be able to order me to fetch you coffee and donuts. No way will that happen.”
He laughs.
“Actually, I’ll make you the coffee and donuts guy,” Chloe says, tone light. Happiness is bubbling through her, but she keeps it relatively well-hidden, so she thinks. “I think it’s a role really suited to you.”
“You’re a laugh riot,” Clark retorts. He leans back against his chair.
The sun is beginning to grow brighter. The kitchen is becoming more golden-hued; soon it’ll be drenched in sunlight. She’s not yet too warm, dressed in a light-weight cotton dress. Her bare legs are pressed against the wooden chair legs, which have heated up from her skin.
“So we’re going to do this?”
“I guess we are,” he says. “Wait, how will we get clients?”
“A guy I know, Vinnie Fern, is closing up his PI practice in Metropolis and moving it to San Francisco. He says he can’t stand or stomach another Kansas winter. He told me he’d spread the word before he left. At least he’ll tell his regulars about us and where to find us. I gave him some business cards. Plus, I have some contacts with the police department in Metropolis and I think it’d be possible to take over the process serving that Vinnie used to do. You know, the personal delivery summons and subpoenas and other legal documents.”
“Wait, back up, we have business cards?”
Chloe nods excitedly. She digs into her purse and pulls one out, handing it over. Clark studies the small white card that has their names on it. The card says: Sullivan & Kent, Private Detectives. Beneath their names and next to their address and phone number is a small picture of a small boy and a bear, walking together.
“Um…Chloe…”
“What? Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh represent the ultimate partnership. There were always there for each other.”
Clark chuckles. “Only you,” he says.
“Be nice.”
He nods. “So this Vinnie…he’s going to put in a good word for us?”
“That’s what he said. He was impressed with some work I did for him a while back.”
“Wait…you’ve worked with him?”
“He’s a contact and a useful one of that. He’s helped me and I’ve helped him: it was all very fair and whatnot. He’s a good guy.”
“Sometimes, Chloe, I’m amazed by the people you know.”
She smiles and says, “Sometimes even I’m amazed. But hey if it helps us get our practice off the ground then I’m all for it.”
“We’re really doing this,” Clark says.
“We are. Come on, let’s go celebrate. We can start planning how we’re going to decorate our office. I’m thinking some nice muted colors.”
“I like red and blue.”
“I know that, but those colors don’t necessarily scream professional. We want to be taken seriously.”
“Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh are on our business cards,” Clark states flatly. “I really doubt that screams professional.”
Chloe relents. “Okay, we can use red and blue. But not too much because I have to be in the office every day and I don’t want everything to be those colors. I might have to break out the green K if that happens.”
“Red and blue accents then.”
“Agreed.” She waves a hand between them. “I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful partnership, Clark,” she says, purposefully mangling the line from Casablanca. Clark smiles at her.
They stand up, chairs scraping against the floor. Chloe notices the application still lying on the table, the white still stark against the dark wood. She points to it silently and Clark takes the hint. There’s the sound of paper ripping and then it’s quiet again as Clark tosses the pieces into the recycling.
“Where to?” he asks.
“I could use some caffeine. You hungry?”
Clark shrugs his shoulders. “I could eat. I’ve only had three pieces of toast, an apple, and two eggs this morning.”
“Lucky you have supermetabolism,” she mutters.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Yeah, because I’ve always had a secret longing to have an empty leg that I just can’t fill. Sorry, but I’m good.”
“That’s what they all say, but really everyone wants my metabolism.”
“Look at that ego. Are you sure you can fit through the door?”
“For that, you’re paying,” he says. He opens the front door and waits for her to pass the threshold first.
That’s Clark: always the gentleman. She passes him and steps outside. Clark follows her.
“It’s your turn to pay. Plus I’m the one who came up with the super great idea of us becoming private detectives. You should treat me to an extra large mocha and a raspberry scone for that.”
Clark laughs lightly. “Oh I should, should I?”
“Most definitely,” Chloe retorts. They head down the steps of the Kent house, shoulder to shoulder. Warm airs swirls around them, moved by the lightest of breezes. The breeze wasn’t there when she arrived; she takes it as promising that it’s here now. A sign of some sort and signs must be positive, right?
Well, Chloe’s going to take it as a positive sign.
They make their way to Clark’s truck. She does suggest her Yaris, but he frowns and says he doesn’t wish to be squished. This time it’s her who laughs.
Into the truck they get. Clark puts the truck into gear and then drives them to the Talon, their usual spot. They split the cost of their coffee and food, like people in any good partnership. They grab a table in the back and start making plans, Chloe jotting down notes in a notebook.
It could be the start of something beautiful. That thought lingers with Chloe as she sips her extra-large mocha.
A week passes and the ISIS office has been dismantled. In its place is a private detective office. Lana’s office has been redone and it set up for Clark with a large desk and a bright blue couch in the corner. The chair is black, but only because they couldn’t find a red one. The filing cabinet, however, is red.
“It’s perfect,” Clark had declared once it was all set up.
The front desk area has also been transformed. The desk is the one that was there before, but the filing cabinet is also red like the one in Clark’s office. There’s no longer a pink sign declaring the office to be named ISIS. Instead, in a cornflower blue color, the sign declares the office to be called Sullivan & Kent. A waiting area has been set up: it has two white stuffed chairs and a small black table. Magazines are stacked neatly on top of the table.
It’s their first day of being open for business. They’re all set up and now just waiting.
“Shouldn’t you be listening to your scanner?” she says. Clark is hanging out in the front office area as she types up an ad advertising them to place on Craig’s list. They’re still waiting to hear back from the Metropolis Police Department and, while they wait, advertising seems like the thing to do.
“I can hear it.”
“Right, of course you can.”
Then the office door opens with a whoosh. A woman in her early forties enters, dressed in grey trousers and a blue blouse. She has a large black purse clutched to her. It’s their first client.
“Are you Sullivan and Kent?” the woman asks.
Chloe is the one who finds her voice first. “We are.”
“Vinnie recommended you. He didn’t say you were…so young.”
“We’re very good despite our youth,” Chloe interjects. She nudges Clark and he hastily adds, “Yes, we’re very good.”
The woman nods. “We’ll see about that.” She takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of Chloe’s desk. There are two chairs, both black. Chloe had insisted on the colors, not wanting anything too bright. Clark had conceded.
The woman tells her name - Andrea Berner - and gives them the details of her case. She wants to know if her husband is cheating on her. Chloe tells her they’ll handle it then names the price she knows is similar to what Vinnie charged.
Andrea leaves after handing over a check. Chloe holds it in her hands, staring at the numbers. Then she glances over and up at Clark, who is leaning against the filing cabinet.
“I think we might make it after all.”
He smiles. Before he says anything, his head tilts, forehead furrowing. She can hear the mumble of the police scanner in the background, but she can’t make out any words.
“Go,” she says.
Clark vanishes. Chloe enters the details of their first case into the computer. She then plans a method of attack to catch the husband in the act, if he is cheating on his wife. A rush of excitement courses through her body. Being a private detective was never her dream, yet she thinks it’s going to work out for the best.
She hums the theme song from Mary Tyler Moore while she waits for Clark to return to discuss the case. If she had a hat with her, she might have thrown it up in the air. Instead she just hums.
End.
a/n: Written for tobywolf13's Chloe's Career Change Challenge. Don't forget to visit the master post and see all the entries. There's voting over here
Oh, and there is a reason for the title.
The air this early in the morning is mild. It’s warm, but not hot like it will be later on in the day. The sky isn’t yet a hazy pale color; for now it’s a long stretch of uninterrupted deep blue. In the air is the smell of grass and apples. Chloe breathes in deeply as she crosses the dirt driveway then the grassy front yard.
Like always, she doesn’t knock. She barges in, calling out, “Clark?”
“In the kitchen,” he replies.
She shuts the front door firmly. Her footsteps are light against the polished hardwood floor. In a minute she enters the kitchen, finding Clark seated at the kitchen table, pen in hand. An application is spread across the table, the white paper a sharp contrast to the dark wood. She gets closer and sees the words Daily Planet.
“Okay, put that away.”
He glances up. “What?”
“Put it away, rip it up. Do whatever, but make it disappear.” She pulls out a chair and takes a seat, across from Clark. The wood is cool against her bare legs. “I have the perfect new job for us,” she adds.
“You do?”
“Private detectives,” Chloe says with a smile.
“Chloe…”
“No, it’s perfect. We can transform the ISIS office into an office for our private detective practice.”
“I think you’ve watched way too many episodes of Veronica Mars and Angel. We can’t be private detectives.”
“And why not?”
Clark lays his elbows on the table. “For one, we have no training. Two, I think the Daily Planet might be the best place for me. I want to help people.”
Chloe nods, but disagrees with what he has said. She will convince him; she has every reason to believe she can. “First, I have a license to be a private detective, not that it’s required in this jurisdiction. Still, I have a license.”
“You do?”
“I thought it might come in handy with what we do,” she explains. That had been her thought process a year ago, when she had gotten the license. Now it seemed like fate that she had gotten it.
“Fine, you have a license. I don’t.”
“It’s not hard to get one. In a month I’ll have you licensed. Next objection?”
“This isn’t a joking matter,” he says.
“I know that.” She keeps her voice calm, level. “And I’m not joking. I really think this is the best thing for us. It’ll give us a front for your superhero activities and I can cover the regular clients and make sure we have money to live on.”
“What does Jimmy say?”
“Jimmy isn’t the boss of me. If this is what I want, I expect him to support me.”
“So you haven’t talked to him?”
“Again, it’s my life. It’s my career,” Chloe says. She wills Clark to drop the subject, because she has no plans to discuss it any further. Jimmy doesn’t control her actions and if he can’t deal then she’ll deal with that. Jimmy is only a guy after all and it’s not like she needs a guy to be happy. “Next objection?”
Clark sighs. “The same as before: I think the Daily Planet might be the best place for me. It’ll give me access that I need.”
“Okay, I have to dispel a few myths. A is that the Daily Planet is currently controlled by Luthorcorp. Do you really want to work for an evil corporation? B is that you’d be in obits if they hired you; you’re not going to have any access on a regular basis. C is that your editor is going to assign anything important to someone will more experience. I’m sorry, but working at the paper isn’t going to provide the opportunities to truly help people.”
She watches Clark’s face. Disappointment spreads then fades rapidly. It’s not that she likes shattering his ideas, his hopes, but in this case she has no other choice. Working at the Daily Planet is all wrong for Clark and his desire to take a more active role in being a superhero.
“How will working as a private detective help me aid others?” he asks. His tone has changed: no longer does he sound amused. Now he sounds serious and his inquiry is made in that tone of voice.
“We’ll have a police scanner. Unlike at the Daily Planet, we can have it on all day and that would be fine. We’ll stick it and you in the office Lana used and I’ll have the desk in the main area.”
“Are you sure? I thought you’d want the private office.”
Admittedly she would like an office. Playing receptionist isn’t her ideal thing to do, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Chloe knows Clark will need the office to have the freedom to listen to the police scanner and to disappear at a moment’s notice. Logic dictates she cover the receptionist function, especially since hiring a receptionist isn’t feasible right now nor will it ever be feasible. A receptionist might wonder why and how Clark leaves so often.
Thus, for her idea to work, Chloe knows and accepts that she’ll need to be the receptionist as well as the partner. But since she thinks this is really the best career for her and Clark, she’s willing to do that. This is a sacrifice she’s willing to make for the greater good.
She does like that Clark seems to have warmed up to the idea. He’s not protesting any longer. That pleases her and makes her content with her choices.
“Yes, I’m sure Clark. Just don’t think you’ll be able to order me to fetch you coffee and donuts. No way will that happen.”
He laughs.
“Actually, I’ll make you the coffee and donuts guy,” Chloe says, tone light. Happiness is bubbling through her, but she keeps it relatively well-hidden, so she thinks. “I think it’s a role really suited to you.”
“You’re a laugh riot,” Clark retorts. He leans back against his chair.
The sun is beginning to grow brighter. The kitchen is becoming more golden-hued; soon it’ll be drenched in sunlight. She’s not yet too warm, dressed in a light-weight cotton dress. Her bare legs are pressed against the wooden chair legs, which have heated up from her skin.
“So we’re going to do this?”
“I guess we are,” he says. “Wait, how will we get clients?”
“A guy I know, Vinnie Fern, is closing up his PI practice in Metropolis and moving it to San Francisco. He says he can’t stand or stomach another Kansas winter. He told me he’d spread the word before he left. At least he’ll tell his regulars about us and where to find us. I gave him some business cards. Plus, I have some contacts with the police department in Metropolis and I think it’d be possible to take over the process serving that Vinnie used to do. You know, the personal delivery summons and subpoenas and other legal documents.”
“Wait, back up, we have business cards?”
Chloe nods excitedly. She digs into her purse and pulls one out, handing it over. Clark studies the small white card that has their names on it. The card says: Sullivan & Kent, Private Detectives. Beneath their names and next to their address and phone number is a small picture of a small boy and a bear, walking together.
“Um…Chloe…”
“What? Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh represent the ultimate partnership. There were always there for each other.”
Clark chuckles. “Only you,” he says.
“Be nice.”
He nods. “So this Vinnie…he’s going to put in a good word for us?”
“That’s what he said. He was impressed with some work I did for him a while back.”
“Wait…you’ve worked with him?”
“He’s a contact and a useful one of that. He’s helped me and I’ve helped him: it was all very fair and whatnot. He’s a good guy.”
“Sometimes, Chloe, I’m amazed by the people you know.”
She smiles and says, “Sometimes even I’m amazed. But hey if it helps us get our practice off the ground then I’m all for it.”
“We’re really doing this,” Clark says.
“We are. Come on, let’s go celebrate. We can start planning how we’re going to decorate our office. I’m thinking some nice muted colors.”
“I like red and blue.”
“I know that, but those colors don’t necessarily scream professional. We want to be taken seriously.”
“Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh are on our business cards,” Clark states flatly. “I really doubt that screams professional.”
Chloe relents. “Okay, we can use red and blue. But not too much because I have to be in the office every day and I don’t want everything to be those colors. I might have to break out the green K if that happens.”
“Red and blue accents then.”
“Agreed.” She waves a hand between them. “I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful partnership, Clark,” she says, purposefully mangling the line from Casablanca. Clark smiles at her.
They stand up, chairs scraping against the floor. Chloe notices the application still lying on the table, the white still stark against the dark wood. She points to it silently and Clark takes the hint. There’s the sound of paper ripping and then it’s quiet again as Clark tosses the pieces into the recycling.
“Where to?” he asks.
“I could use some caffeine. You hungry?”
Clark shrugs his shoulders. “I could eat. I’ve only had three pieces of toast, an apple, and two eggs this morning.”
“Lucky you have supermetabolism,” she mutters.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Yeah, because I’ve always had a secret longing to have an empty leg that I just can’t fill. Sorry, but I’m good.”
“That’s what they all say, but really everyone wants my metabolism.”
“Look at that ego. Are you sure you can fit through the door?”
“For that, you’re paying,” he says. He opens the front door and waits for her to pass the threshold first.
That’s Clark: always the gentleman. She passes him and steps outside. Clark follows her.
“It’s your turn to pay. Plus I’m the one who came up with the super great idea of us becoming private detectives. You should treat me to an extra large mocha and a raspberry scone for that.”
Clark laughs lightly. “Oh I should, should I?”
“Most definitely,” Chloe retorts. They head down the steps of the Kent house, shoulder to shoulder. Warm airs swirls around them, moved by the lightest of breezes. The breeze wasn’t there when she arrived; she takes it as promising that it’s here now. A sign of some sort and signs must be positive, right?
Well, Chloe’s going to take it as a positive sign.
They make their way to Clark’s truck. She does suggest her Yaris, but he frowns and says he doesn’t wish to be squished. This time it’s her who laughs.
Into the truck they get. Clark puts the truck into gear and then drives them to the Talon, their usual spot. They split the cost of their coffee and food, like people in any good partnership. They grab a table in the back and start making plans, Chloe jotting down notes in a notebook.
It could be the start of something beautiful. That thought lingers with Chloe as she sips her extra-large mocha.
A week passes and the ISIS office has been dismantled. In its place is a private detective office. Lana’s office has been redone and it set up for Clark with a large desk and a bright blue couch in the corner. The chair is black, but only because they couldn’t find a red one. The filing cabinet, however, is red.
“It’s perfect,” Clark had declared once it was all set up.
The front desk area has also been transformed. The desk is the one that was there before, but the filing cabinet is also red like the one in Clark’s office. There’s no longer a pink sign declaring the office to be named ISIS. Instead, in a cornflower blue color, the sign declares the office to be called Sullivan & Kent. A waiting area has been set up: it has two white stuffed chairs and a small black table. Magazines are stacked neatly on top of the table.
It’s their first day of being open for business. They’re all set up and now just waiting.
“Shouldn’t you be listening to your scanner?” she says. Clark is hanging out in the front office area as she types up an ad advertising them to place on Craig’s list. They’re still waiting to hear back from the Metropolis Police Department and, while they wait, advertising seems like the thing to do.
“I can hear it.”
“Right, of course you can.”
Then the office door opens with a whoosh. A woman in her early forties enters, dressed in grey trousers and a blue blouse. She has a large black purse clutched to her. It’s their first client.
“Are you Sullivan and Kent?” the woman asks.
Chloe is the one who finds her voice first. “We are.”
“Vinnie recommended you. He didn’t say you were…so young.”
“We’re very good despite our youth,” Chloe interjects. She nudges Clark and he hastily adds, “Yes, we’re very good.”
The woman nods. “We’ll see about that.” She takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of Chloe’s desk. There are two chairs, both black. Chloe had insisted on the colors, not wanting anything too bright. Clark had conceded.
The woman tells her name - Andrea Berner - and gives them the details of her case. She wants to know if her husband is cheating on her. Chloe tells her they’ll handle it then names the price she knows is similar to what Vinnie charged.
Andrea leaves after handing over a check. Chloe holds it in her hands, staring at the numbers. Then she glances over and up at Clark, who is leaning against the filing cabinet.
“I think we might make it after all.”
He smiles. Before he says anything, his head tilts, forehead furrowing. She can hear the mumble of the police scanner in the background, but she can’t make out any words.
“Go,” she says.
Clark vanishes. Chloe enters the details of their first case into the computer. She then plans a method of attack to catch the husband in the act, if he is cheating on his wife. A rush of excitement courses through her body. Being a private detective was never her dream, yet she thinks it’s going to work out for the best.
She hums the theme song from Mary Tyler Moore while she waits for Clark to return to discuss the case. If she had a hat with her, she might have thrown it up in the air. Instead she just hums.
End.