by dafnap

When Clark kissed her, she tasted vanilla vodka on his breath. She always knew that when and if he would ever get to this state it would be because he was not sober and that would be because Clark is a bitch when it comes to drinking. Somehow she knew that the only way he would get drunk would be off of some girly drink like vanilla vodka or peach schnapps.

Chloe liked it with her coffee, if she thought about it longer she would realize that she liked pretty much anything with her coffee.

But Clark was kissing her and Chloe was letting him, despite the promise she had made to herself one too many times for one too many good reasons.

Reason the First: He never calls.

Chloe doesn't remember the last time Dad left a note on her dresser telling her that Clark had called; can't remember the last time her answering machine flashed red because he needed her help with the computer. Her cell phone didn't vibrate to tell her that he had forgotten his homework at her place after the all night study session. She thought, for a while, that he was one of those weird people that can't leave messages, that he had a phobia towards recording his voice, but when she finally got Caller ID she knew that he just didn't bother. Didn't bother to call her meant that his name never flashed when she scrolled through the list of hang-ups that were painfully short.

So Chloe, being the strong, 21st century woman that she was, decided that that was the line, she wasn't going to let him use her; if it so happened that after a particularly romantic night of studying that he felt so inclined to finally kiss her when she turned her head just so that her hair fell perfectly across her right cheek to acceunate her lips, well, she would just pull away. She would scrunch up her nose, and say: "Oh, Clark, you're cute and all, but I just want to be friends."

How do you like 'dem apples Clark Kent?

She should have known better that the only time Clark would kiss her was because he was drunk and she would let him because she was easy like that.

Reason the Second: Always the shoulder, never the reason.

She wondered, once, if Clark ever stressed about their relationship like he did over Lana's; if he ever talked all night long before Lana's big chem test about how he wondered if Chloe liked him, if Chloe wouldn't mind going out for dinner even though Chloe's boyfriend who was handsome was dead because he was a hero an all, if Chloe wouldn't feel like he was rushing things. Not even that, Chloe could have settled overhearing a conversation between the two that involved her at all, "Chloe had a new shirt, I liked it." or "Did you see what Chloe did with her hair?" It didn't even have to be a good thing, Chloe wouldn't mind a little, "What's got Chloe's panties in a twist?" Because then that would mean Clark had thought about her in her panties, and that was vaguely sexual, right?


He would then get all flustered and worried and try and comfort her and kiss her to make her feel better and then Chloe would push him away. This was essential to the plan: a passionate kiss then Chloe pushing away and laughing: "Oh Clark, that's sweet and all but we're just friends."

But she should have known better: that all plans go flying out the window when Clark stumbles into her arms and kisses her with vanilla on his breath.

Reason the Third: Just Friends My Ass

Chloe doesn't want to admit it to herself but if she was gay she would totally do Lana instead of her. She thinks she's the only one with this much hate towards her body; she knows that she isn't. She remembers walking into the bathroom one day and there was Lana: spongebob pajama shorts and tiny-t that had sushi on it, or something. Chloe remembers Lana pinching her thighs and scrunching her nose: "I hate these things, these little pockets of fat!" She complained, "I do those exercises from YM everyday, but a whole year and it's still there!" Then Lana would smile her perfect little smile, "I guess I'm doomed to have them forever, lifetime companions till the end!" And then scamper off back into the bedroom, leaving Chloe to stare at her arms and lose all hope of ever being happy.

Why would Clark want her when the only thing wrong with Lana was in her head?


"Chloe?" Clark slurred when he saw her leaning against her car - sitting really, because she was too drunk to drive, but not enough not to know better- and watching the stars, "Chloe, Chloe, chlooooooo-weeee!" And then he giggled and sat down next to her.

"Not enjoying the party?" He asked, trying to get his giggles under control.

She shook her head and tucked her fingers beneath her butt to keep them warm, "No, not my scene." She did the whole-nose-wrinkle-smirk thing that she hoped translated well in her semi-sloshed-state. Obviously it did because it sent Clark into another round of giggles. They talked for awhile, about school, about the Talon about the upcoming summer and their plans and all the stuff you talk about with the girl in class that you're best friends with for a the totality of the period, but god help you if you remember her name when asked. Impersonal and stupid and they giggled and played off each other like the old friends they weren't anymore.

Somehow the situation turned around where Chloe was leaning against the car and Clark was whispering in her ear: "If I kissed you now, we can pretend to forget it in the morning."

Chloe found herself nodding, watching his lips as they tried to form words and she found herself hating more than her thighs and her arms and her horrible choice in boys.

When he kissed her she lost herself against his tongue and lost the excuses and lost any right to quote "Good Will Hunting". She let him deepen the kiss and wondered when she could pretend to be sober and drive carefully home. His fingers dragged up from the bottom of her shirt, letting them trail against her ribcage -when she hissed in a breath he smiled against her lips.

This was wrong, all wrong, not according to plan, not how she wanted it at all. She waited for her body to get the hint and pull away and do the adorable nose-wrinkle-smirk thing, be all: "Clark, you're cute and all but-"

When Clark misses her bottom lip and lands a wet one on her chin Chloe could have pulled away. When Clark shifts his head so that their noses wouldn't get in the way Chloe could have ducked under his arm and claim bathroom-run. When Clark pulls away to watch Lana walk off with a boy into the woods: Chloe could have left. But she didn't, because she was Chloe and this was Clark and no matter how many plans she would make, she always managed to break them when it came to him.

"Clark-" she managed to get out and he pulled away, trying to focus on her eyes.

"What-What is it?"

"You're cute and all-" And when Clark pulled his hand away Chloe couldn't stop herself from running her fingers down his shirt.

Maybe he won't remember this in the morning.

Her fingers catch on the buttons of his shirt, and when she pulls him down for another kiss she tries to pretend that he's thinking about her.

Maybe he won't remember this in the morning: Chloe against a car, Clark smelling like vanilla, Lana in the woods.

Chloe tells herself that she can revise the rules tomorrow, that she can't be expected to keep to them so drunk, so shit faced. In the morning, she tells herself, she can smile apologetically to Clark, maybe even brush a lock of hair out of his eyes and tell him:

"You're cute and all-"


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