Fic: Plumage Issues (1/1)
Fic:Plumage Issues (1/1)
Summary: Chloe's brain is filled with costume issues and the fireman parked outside her workplace.
Author: Pen37
Beta: Muses_circle
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters:Chloe, Dean
Rating: pg
A/N:Written for chleanthursday. Also to fulfill the requirements for my crossovers100 table. Prompt: Thunder.
It was all well and good to say that you were going to get a suit. But Chloe knew that before she talked to Bruce, she should determine what she needed. Bruce wasn’t big on wasting time. And his standing around looking at her while she hem hawed around about the design would definitely fall into the category of ‘time waster’ for him.
So she’d spent most of her working day thinking about what kind of suit would fit her needs. And what it boiled down to was that she didn’t need anything fancy.
She'd never been that active. Patrolling wasn’t her thing. She was usually the one up in the tower coordinating everyone else’s efforts. The handful of times that she’d been on the ground, she’d borrowed a paramedic’s jacket or a badge and tried to look unobtrusive while performing kryptonite-powered triage.
Ever since she could figure out what her powers could do, she’d pushed them by playing candy striper and healing on the sly. She’d also put in twenty hours of first responder training to give the acting a verisimilitude she needed to pull it off.
As a result, she’d gotten good at hiding the healing glow under bandages or behind someone's hair as she touched their scalp. At the same time, her body had adapted to the point that she could push through most of the worst injuries that she would take on. Even taking death didn’t last more than a few hours any more.
These days If she hit the streets, the chaos was enough to distract folks from what she did. And while a suit sounded good in theory, the last thing she needed was to be wrapped in bright red spandex. That kind of thing just screamed: I pull the green rocks off Superman.
For a moment she toyed with the idea of wearing some kind of tank in suit form. After all, what better way to say don’t mess with me than something that looked like it might have a particle accelerator strapped to the back?
But the whole point to Clark’s Superman look is that he wasn’t supposed to be scary like Bruce. Let the criminal crazies of Gotham shake in their boots at the man bat. Clark was an alien, so he needed a more harmless, ET/I Come In Peace look. And if Chloe was going out at all, she needed to back that up.
Plus, it was much easier to help someone if they were willing to let her get within touching distance. Wearing a scary costume like Batman’s wouldn’t exactly facilitate that.
What she needed, she decided, was something more along the lines of what The Question was wearing these days: Street clothes and some kind of bandage that made her look faceless. Or maybe just a mask, because faceless could be just as scary as a clown’s face. Then again, as Fezzzik said: men in masks aren’t to be trusted.
This kind of internal see-saw dominated her thoughts most of the day. By quitting time, she was still debating with herself as she rode down in the elevator. Outside, the sky opened up in a pouring rain. Thunder and lightning made her city look more like Gotham than Metropolis.
And there, in the parking lot across the street, right in front of the Luthorcorp tower, was her stalker.
Chloe frowned. Then she looked up. There was no end to the rain in sight. Her little Vespa wasn’t cut out for this kind of weather.
Decision made. She nodded and took off for the fireman’s car at a trot. As she neared, she could see his eyes get wide. As if he was doing the mental equivalent of wetting on himself.
She grinned at that. Scary stalker, indeed.
Then she got into his passenger seat, and quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know, this old clunker of yours isn’t exactly unobtrusive.”
In a flash, he seemed to snap out of his shock. “Lay off my car, lady. It’s a classic.”
“Classic, huh?” Chloe leaned against the door and folded her arms. Under her scrutiny, he shifted and looked away.
“So you want to tell me why you’re always parked here at 6:30 on weeknights?”
He looked away again. “Saw that, huh?” When he looked back, his expression begged her not to think he was a creep. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you.”
“’Hello’ usually works,” Chloe said.
“Hello.” He mumbled.
Chloe wondered why, other than the rain, she was sitting in a strange man’s car instead of scaring him off. “Why are you wanting to talk to me?” she asked.
Dean shrugged. “I . . . Thank you?”
Chloe knew what he was talking about. And she knew that he knew that she knew. And how that worked, she couldn’t figure out. But playing dumb to the whole thing would be pointless. Instead she looked down the length of the big car’s hood at the rain pounding there.
“You ever save someone’s life?” She asked.
He nodded. “Comes with the job.”
She turned to look in his eyes. “That doesn’t make them the wookie to your Han Solo.”
He swallowed again. “I know,” he said. He seemed to be debating what to say next. “Really. I do. But . . . look. I . . .” He put his head in his hands. “What am I doing?”
Chloe took pity on him. He seemed like a nice guy. Just kind of out of his depth. “Give me a ride home, and we’ll call it even.”
He looked up and nodded. The look in his eyes seemed to say that he wished for more, but his set jaw indicated that he was taking the out she was giving him. Maybe he was just getting tired of the e-ticket to weirdsville and was ready to return to normal land. “Can you direct me?”
Chloe fought the smile that threatened to cross her lips. It was good to know that he didn’t already know the way.
Summary: Chloe's brain is filled with costume issues and the fireman parked outside her workplace.
Author: Pen37
Beta: Muses_circle
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters:Chloe, Dean
Rating: pg
A/N:Written for chleanthursday. Also to fulfill the requirements for my crossovers100 table. Prompt: Thunder.
It was all well and good to say that you were going to get a suit. But Chloe knew that before she talked to Bruce, she should determine what she needed. Bruce wasn’t big on wasting time. And his standing around looking at her while she hem hawed around about the design would definitely fall into the category of ‘time waster’ for him.
So she’d spent most of her working day thinking about what kind of suit would fit her needs. And what it boiled down to was that she didn’t need anything fancy.
She'd never been that active. Patrolling wasn’t her thing. She was usually the one up in the tower coordinating everyone else’s efforts. The handful of times that she’d been on the ground, she’d borrowed a paramedic’s jacket or a badge and tried to look unobtrusive while performing kryptonite-powered triage.
Ever since she could figure out what her powers could do, she’d pushed them by playing candy striper and healing on the sly. She’d also put in twenty hours of first responder training to give the acting a verisimilitude she needed to pull it off.
As a result, she’d gotten good at hiding the healing glow under bandages or behind someone's hair as she touched their scalp. At the same time, her body had adapted to the point that she could push through most of the worst injuries that she would take on. Even taking death didn’t last more than a few hours any more.
These days If she hit the streets, the chaos was enough to distract folks from what she did. And while a suit sounded good in theory, the last thing she needed was to be wrapped in bright red spandex. That kind of thing just screamed: I pull the green rocks off Superman.
For a moment she toyed with the idea of wearing some kind of tank in suit form. After all, what better way to say don’t mess with me than something that looked like it might have a particle accelerator strapped to the back?
But the whole point to Clark’s Superman look is that he wasn’t supposed to be scary like Bruce. Let the criminal crazies of Gotham shake in their boots at the man bat. Clark was an alien, so he needed a more harmless, ET/I Come In Peace look. And if Chloe was going out at all, she needed to back that up.
Plus, it was much easier to help someone if they were willing to let her get within touching distance. Wearing a scary costume like Batman’s wouldn’t exactly facilitate that.
What she needed, she decided, was something more along the lines of what The Question was wearing these days: Street clothes and some kind of bandage that made her look faceless. Or maybe just a mask, because faceless could be just as scary as a clown’s face. Then again, as Fezzzik said: men in masks aren’t to be trusted.
This kind of internal see-saw dominated her thoughts most of the day. By quitting time, she was still debating with herself as she rode down in the elevator. Outside, the sky opened up in a pouring rain. Thunder and lightning made her city look more like Gotham than Metropolis.
And there, in the parking lot across the street, right in front of the Luthorcorp tower, was her stalker.
Chloe frowned. Then she looked up. There was no end to the rain in sight. Her little Vespa wasn’t cut out for this kind of weather.
Decision made. She nodded and took off for the fireman’s car at a trot. As she neared, she could see his eyes get wide. As if he was doing the mental equivalent of wetting on himself.
She grinned at that. Scary stalker, indeed.
Then she got into his passenger seat, and quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know, this old clunker of yours isn’t exactly unobtrusive.”
In a flash, he seemed to snap out of his shock. “Lay off my car, lady. It’s a classic.”
“Classic, huh?” Chloe leaned against the door and folded her arms. Under her scrutiny, he shifted and looked away.
“So you want to tell me why you’re always parked here at 6:30 on weeknights?”
He looked away again. “Saw that, huh?” When he looked back, his expression begged her not to think he was a creep. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you.”
“’Hello’ usually works,” Chloe said.
“Hello.” He mumbled.
Chloe wondered why, other than the rain, she was sitting in a strange man’s car instead of scaring him off. “Why are you wanting to talk to me?” she asked.
Dean shrugged. “I . . . Thank you?”
Chloe knew what he was talking about. And she knew that he knew that she knew. And how that worked, she couldn’t figure out. But playing dumb to the whole thing would be pointless. Instead she looked down the length of the big car’s hood at the rain pounding there.
“You ever save someone’s life?” She asked.
He nodded. “Comes with the job.”
She turned to look in his eyes. “That doesn’t make them the wookie to your Han Solo.”
He swallowed again. “I know,” he said. He seemed to be debating what to say next. “Really. I do. But . . . look. I . . .” He put his head in his hands. “What am I doing?”
Chloe took pity on him. He seemed like a nice guy. Just kind of out of his depth. “Give me a ride home, and we’ll call it even.”
He looked up and nodded. The look in his eyes seemed to say that he wished for more, but his set jaw indicated that he was taking the out she was giving him. Maybe he was just getting tired of the e-ticket to weirdsville and was ready to return to normal land. “Can you direct me?”
Chloe fought the smile that threatened to cross her lips. It was good to know that he didn’t already know the way.