SV Fic: Tiles
They're playing a game. Chloe/Clark, pg13, 924 words, future.
note: for ellyfanfiction cause she wanted happy Chlark; based on a prompt lapiccolina gave me like a month ago.
Neither of them is speaking. They’re sitting across from each other, each with their head bent slightly. Occasionally they peak at the other. The only sound is the soft clicking of wooden tiles against a wooden holder.
It’s quiet until Chloe speaks. She says, “It’s your turn.”
Clark glances up and glares at her. “Shhh.”
“I’m just saying.”
“It’s my turn, I know. I’m still deciding.”
“You’re taking forever. At this rate, I’m going to have gray hairs by the time it’s my turn again.”
“It’s not going to work.”
She quirks her head to the side, feigning surprise. “What won’t work?” she asks as she makes her eyes wide, going for an appearance of innocence.
“You can’t force me into taking my turn. You’ll just have to wait.”
“I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“It’s been three minutes,” Clark points out. He waggles his finger at her. “Stop exaggerating and wait quietly. Patience is a virtue, you know.”
She sticks her tongue out at him.
Clark shakes his head. “Are you five?”
“Make your move, Clark.”
“Quit whining.”
“Whine, whine, whine.”
“Okay, now you really are five.”
Chloe picks up one of her tile pieces, fingering it gingerly. She doesn’t speak though, instead just stares at the letter on the tile. It’s a P. She knows this reaction will just bug Clark, which it predictably does.
Clark says, “No response? I just said you were five.”
She smiles enigmatically. Clark lets out a huff of air and finally lays down his tile pieces. His tiles spell out the word BEE, playing off of her previous word of BUTTY.
“Let’s see, double word score on the E means you get six points,” she says.
“Six is good,” Clark defends. He’s grabbing two additional tiles from the bag of tile pieces. The bag jiggles as he pulls the two tiles.
Looking at their respective scores, Chloe laughs a little. “You’re trailing me by about twenty points, Clark. And it’s early in the game. I’m already up by a lot.”
“Shut up.”
“Now who is the five year old?” A smirk plays on her lips.
Clark huffs and leans back in his chair. “You were baiting me.”
“I was not. I’d never do that.”
“Now why don’t I believe you?”
“My turn!” she says, changing the topic. Giddiness is evident in her tone. Playing off of the second E, she places her tiles down on the board. It’s an excellent word in her mind and it makes her proud.
She’s also happy that Clark perfectly set it up for her to be able to play her chosen word. It’s always nice when that happens.
“Chloe!” he sputters in response to her chosen word, very predictably. His cheeks have flared a bright pink color. It’s very endearing to her.
She grins, completely unrepentant. “What?”
“Sperm?”
“It’s a perfectly valid word,” she asserts. His cheeks are still red. “It is a male gamete.”
“But…it’s…you…”
Laughter escapes her throat. Sometimes Clark is a prude, but he’s her prude.
After taking a moment to just laugh, she calms down and says, “It’s your turn, Mr. Slow Poke.”
“I’m not slow.”
“Yes, you are. You’re as slow as molasses sometimes.”
“I can fly faster than the speed of light.”
“Your brain apparently can’t think of words faster than the speed of light. I really am going to grow gray hairs waiting for you to pick a word.”
“It’s…”
“People would be so disappointed to see how much Superman fails at beating a measly human in a game of Scrabble. Sure, Superman has the photographic memory, but it’s not enough to be a star at Scrabble.”
“That’s it,” Clark declares. His palms slam down lightly on the wooden table. Not enough to do any damage, but enough to make the sound reverberate in the living room.
Chloe looks at him curiously. “What’s it?”
“I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“I hate this game.”
“I know,” she responds simply. A small smile is playing on her lips.
“Then why do we play it?” Clark grumbles. He has removed his hands from the table. His arms are now crossed against his chest, the white fabric of his t-shirt pulled taut by his position.
Chloe smiles cheekily. “Because I love it and you love me. So I say ‘let’s play’ and you go ‘okay’.”
“I…”
“You’re so whipped. Superman is whipped. I wonder what the girls in the bullpen would say.”
“I am not!”
“Whipped. So whipped. Will you go buy me some ice cream?”
Clark shakes his head. He stands and stalks over to where she’s sitting. Grabbing her arm gently but firmly, he pulls her to a standing position. He towers over her. Chloe tilts her head so that she can see his eyes.
“I am not whipped,” he says slowly.
“Prove it,” she challenges. She fights to keep the smile off her face because they have gone from arguing for fun over a board game to standing very close together and now it’s serious. She is almost shivering from the sexual tension in the room.
In an attempt to prove he’s not whipped, Clark leans down and captures her lips with his.
Chloe chooses not to break the kiss. While she loves Scrabble, kissing Clark is so much better. His mouth is warm and tastes of coffee and chocolate. So instead of breaking the kiss and asserting again how whipped he is, she wraps her arms around his neck and lets her tongue trace the seam of his lips.
End!
The prompt was: Game of chess/checkers or if not a game, a cross word puzzle, or something that would lend itself easily over to banter. Some nookie. There wasn't any nookie. Sorry!
Feedback makes me a happy Canadian.
note: for ellyfanfiction cause she wanted happy Chlark; based on a prompt lapiccolina gave me like a month ago.
Neither of them is speaking. They’re sitting across from each other, each with their head bent slightly. Occasionally they peak at the other. The only sound is the soft clicking of wooden tiles against a wooden holder.
It’s quiet until Chloe speaks. She says, “It’s your turn.”
Clark glances up and glares at her. “Shhh.”
“I’m just saying.”
“It’s my turn, I know. I’m still deciding.”
“You’re taking forever. At this rate, I’m going to have gray hairs by the time it’s my turn again.”
“It’s not going to work.”
She quirks her head to the side, feigning surprise. “What won’t work?” she asks as she makes her eyes wide, going for an appearance of innocence.
“You can’t force me into taking my turn. You’ll just have to wait.”
“I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“It’s been three minutes,” Clark points out. He waggles his finger at her. “Stop exaggerating and wait quietly. Patience is a virtue, you know.”
She sticks her tongue out at him.
Clark shakes his head. “Are you five?”
“Make your move, Clark.”
“Quit whining.”
“Whine, whine, whine.”
“Okay, now you really are five.”
Chloe picks up one of her tile pieces, fingering it gingerly. She doesn’t speak though, instead just stares at the letter on the tile. It’s a P. She knows this reaction will just bug Clark, which it predictably does.
Clark says, “No response? I just said you were five.”
She smiles enigmatically. Clark lets out a huff of air and finally lays down his tile pieces. His tiles spell out the word BEE, playing off of her previous word of BUTTY.
“Let’s see, double word score on the E means you get six points,” she says.
“Six is good,” Clark defends. He’s grabbing two additional tiles from the bag of tile pieces. The bag jiggles as he pulls the two tiles.
Looking at their respective scores, Chloe laughs a little. “You’re trailing me by about twenty points, Clark. And it’s early in the game. I’m already up by a lot.”
“Shut up.”
“Now who is the five year old?” A smirk plays on her lips.
Clark huffs and leans back in his chair. “You were baiting me.”
“I was not. I’d never do that.”
“Now why don’t I believe you?”
“My turn!” she says, changing the topic. Giddiness is evident in her tone. Playing off of the second E, she places her tiles down on the board. It’s an excellent word in her mind and it makes her proud.
She’s also happy that Clark perfectly set it up for her to be able to play her chosen word. It’s always nice when that happens.
“Chloe!” he sputters in response to her chosen word, very predictably. His cheeks have flared a bright pink color. It’s very endearing to her.
She grins, completely unrepentant. “What?”
“Sperm?”
“It’s a perfectly valid word,” she asserts. His cheeks are still red. “It is a male gamete.”
“But…it’s…you…”
Laughter escapes her throat. Sometimes Clark is a prude, but he’s her prude.
After taking a moment to just laugh, she calms down and says, “It’s your turn, Mr. Slow Poke.”
“I’m not slow.”
“Yes, you are. You’re as slow as molasses sometimes.”
“I can fly faster than the speed of light.”
“Your brain apparently can’t think of words faster than the speed of light. I really am going to grow gray hairs waiting for you to pick a word.”
“It’s…”
“People would be so disappointed to see how much Superman fails at beating a measly human in a game of Scrabble. Sure, Superman has the photographic memory, but it’s not enough to be a star at Scrabble.”
“That’s it,” Clark declares. His palms slam down lightly on the wooden table. Not enough to do any damage, but enough to make the sound reverberate in the living room.
Chloe looks at him curiously. “What’s it?”
“I don’t want to play this game anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“I hate this game.”
“I know,” she responds simply. A small smile is playing on her lips.
“Then why do we play it?” Clark grumbles. He has removed his hands from the table. His arms are now crossed against his chest, the white fabric of his t-shirt pulled taut by his position.
Chloe smiles cheekily. “Because I love it and you love me. So I say ‘let’s play’ and you go ‘okay’.”
“I…”
“You’re so whipped. Superman is whipped. I wonder what the girls in the bullpen would say.”
“I am not!”
“Whipped. So whipped. Will you go buy me some ice cream?”
Clark shakes his head. He stands and stalks over to where she’s sitting. Grabbing her arm gently but firmly, he pulls her to a standing position. He towers over her. Chloe tilts her head so that she can see his eyes.
“I am not whipped,” he says slowly.
“Prove it,” she challenges. She fights to keep the smile off her face because they have gone from arguing for fun over a board game to standing very close together and now it’s serious. She is almost shivering from the sexual tension in the room.
In an attempt to prove he’s not whipped, Clark leans down and captures her lips with his.
Chloe chooses not to break the kiss. While she loves Scrabble, kissing Clark is so much better. His mouth is warm and tastes of coffee and chocolate. So instead of breaking the kiss and asserting again how whipped he is, she wraps her arms around his neck and lets her tongue trace the seam of his lips.
End!
The prompt was: Game of chess/checkers or if not a game, a cross word puzzle, or something that would lend itself easily over to banter. Some nookie. There wasn't any nookie. Sorry!
Feedback makes me a happy Canadian.