babydee1 | Chlark Fanfic: All The Way, Chapter 12 (Reply)

Hello, my lovelies!

Slowly but surely I’m coming out of the woodwork with updates. Many thanks for your patience. Enjoy!

Title:              All The Way
Author:          babydee1
Pairing:          Chlark
Rating:           PG13 (for now)
Warnings:     None
Timeline:      All Seasons. Works as a sequel to Daisychain.
Disclaimer:   All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary:     Chlark: as they were, are and ever should be.
Feedback:      …makes me squee. :)

Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.

Chapter 12

Meeting Mom

Clark and Chloe walked up to the front door of the Kent Farmhouse. When they got there, Chloe stared at the doorknob expectantly.

Clark rolled his eyes. “Okay, I know I said we have an Open Door policy, but you do still have to turn the handle,” he drawled.

Chloe rested her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, that sucks. I really wanted the chance to say open sesame, or some such.”

Clark chuckled and shook his head. “Go ahead; turn it.”

Chloe rubbed her hands together and cautiously turned the handle of the front door.

“Holy cow, its open!” she exclaimed.

Clark grinned triumphantly and folded his arms. “Told ya.”

“But don’t you worry that someone might come in and steal all your stuff?” Chloe asked.

“Well we don’t really have anything worth stealing, I don’t think,” he admitted. “Except my mom’s pies, of course.” He pushed the door wide open and swept his hand in a grand gesture. “After you.”

She stepped in and stared around with wide eyes. “Wow,” she whispered.

Clark watched her as she looked around, and he was suddenly self-conscious about the modest furnishings in the living room. But she didn’t seem fazed or disappointed. She trailed a curious finger over a fluffy yellow scatter cushion and studied a few figurines before her gaze zeroed in on one of the many family pictures on the mantelpiece.

“I know it’s not much,” he said apologetically. “But—”

“I like it,” she said reverently, and turned to face him with a bright smile. “Forget stealing stuff from the house, I want to steal the whole darn house!”

“You mean—you really like it?” he asked, surprised.

“I love it. It’s a home, Clark; it’s warm and welcoming, and inviting…and it—” She paused and experimentally sniffed the air. “—it smells like apple pie!”

He grinned. “I know, right? My mom’s pies are the best ever.”

“Well, I hope I get to test that theory sometime.” She glanced down at her messy sleeve and fidgeted nervously. “Um…where’s your bathroom?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s right up those stairs there,” he replied, leading the way. They got to the landing and he pointed to the bathroom door.

“In there,” he said. “My room’s this way, and my mom and dad’s room is down the hall.”

“Can I see your room?” she asked brightly.

Clark gulped. He was generally a tidy boy, but his room was in no fit state for a first time visit from a girl.

“Uh…yeah, sure you can; but don’t you wanna get cleaned up first?” he suggested.

“Oh yeah, of course,” she said. “I’ll see your room afterwards.”

“Great idea.” He ducked into his bedroom and quickly grabbed the first clean t-shirt and jeans from the pile of fresh linen his mother had left on the chair.

“Here,” he said, handing them to her. “There are fresh towels in the linen cupboard, and moisturiser on the shelf. You can, um…put your dirty clothes in the linen basket and leave them outside the bathroom; I’ll take them down and put them in the wash for quick spin. Come to my room when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, smiling as she shut the door. A few seconds later, the sound of running water filled his ears, and he caught the light scent of the minted rose soap his mother favoured.

Quickly he returned to his room and tidied up as fast as his superspeed would permit. By the time he was done, the place looked as pristine as a catalogue showroom. He stepped back into the corridor and picked up the linen basket with her discarded clothing, and headed to the laundry room.

He heard her humming as she showered, and he tried hard not to think about what she looked like when she was all covered in water with no clothes on. The droplets of water probably sparkled like diamonds as they journeyed through her blonde hair and down her face and neck, and lower, until they were nestled right between her—

No, he thought sharply, swallowing nervously as a strange ache gathered in his groin. He was not thinking about Chloe naked. He was not thinking about that at all.

He focused on her laundry and gave her clothes a gentle scrub, being careful not to wash them too hard so that he didn’t ruin the fabric; then he rinsed and squeezed them as dry as possible before tossing them in the dryer for a twenty-minute spin. Satisfied, he returned to his room to wait.

The sound of running water stopped, and he took deep breaths and composed himself while he waited for her to get dressed. A few minutes later, she knocked on the door and her blonde head appeared on the other side.

“Is it safe?” she asked. “You don’t have any spiders or creepy crawlies hidden away, do you?”

“When have you ever seen me with a spider?” he retorted. “Of course it’s safe. And it’s clean, too. Come on in.”

She stepped in and he stifled a snort of laughter at the sight of her. Her hair was still wet, and she was wearing his red t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, both of which were a few sizes too big for her. She had rolled up the sleeves of the t-shirt and the hem of the jeans, but she was holding the waist up with one hand.

“You need a belt?” he asked.

“Ya think?” she snarked.

He grinned and pulled one out from his sock drawer, which he handed to her. “Here you go.”

She let go of the jeans to take the belt from his hands, and the trousers promptly fell to her ankles.

“Yikes!” she yelped, reaching down and yanking them up hastily. The laughter he was struggling to hide could no longer be contained, and he bellowed loudly.

“You look like a farmer’s daughter,” he managed between chuckles. She scowled and threaded the belt through the loops before fastening it on the tightest possible latch.

“It’s still loose, but at least they won’t fall down again,” she said ruefully.

“Don’t worry - your clothes will be dry before long,” he reassured her. “You did look pretty funny earlier, though.”

She swiped at him and smiled, then stared around in wonder. “Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never been inside a boy’s bedroom before.”

“As my dad always says, there’s a first time for everything,” he replied.

“It’s a lot cleaner than I expected,” she admitted. “I've never seen a teenager's bedroom look this good. In fact, the only rooms I've ever seen as clean as this are in glossy magazines and furniture showrooms.” She fixed him with a curious, impish smile. “Are you sure you're not an alien in disguise, Clark?”

He gulped and tried to look nonchalant. “I just happen to like cleaning my room, is all.”

She nodded. “Yep - definitely an alien.”

He laughed nervously and quickly changed the subject. “So, what do you wanna see first?”

***

He didn't have any cool stuff or video games, but Clark was fast learning that Chloe wasn't impressed by such things anyway, so he was very comfortable and relaxed with her being in his room. He did have a lot of books, which she fortunately loved, so they browsed through his collection of crime novels. He was pleased to see that they favoured the same type of reading material; not really a surprise, as she was hardly the type who would enjoy flowery, romantic mushy novels.

They chatted easily until the timer pinged on the dryer. Clark excused himself briefly and returned with her dry, clean clothes.

“Fresh as a daisy,” he said as he passed them over to her. Chloe held them up to her cheek, and grinned as she savoured the warmth emanating from the soft fabric.

“Freshly laundered clothes; one of life’s little pleasures,” she said dreamily. “Thanks for all your help, Clark.”

“My pleasure. I’ll just, uh…give you some privacy.” He stepped outside and waited, trying once more not to think of what she looked like with no clothes on.

The bedroom door opened, and she stepped out. “All done.”

“Cool. Wanna grab a bite to eat?” he offered.

She grinned. “Love to; I’m starving.”

“It’s leftover day,” he said apologetically. “We have steak and potatoes, chicken and pasta…if you’d rather not, then I can make you a sandwich…?”

“Clark, did the words I’m starving fail to register in your brain?” she exclaimed. “I’m easy; I’ll have whatever you’ve got.”

The walked down the stairs and just as they got to the bottom, they heard the kitchen door open and close.

“Hello!” his mother called. “Clark, are you home?”

Before he could answer, she appeared in the doorway and stopped short at the sight of him with a girl.

“Oh!” she said, surprised. “You didn’t tell me you were going to have company.”

“Mom!” he greeted nervously. “What are you doing here?”

“I do live here, Clark,” she replied, an amused twinkle in her eye.

“Right, of course...what I meant to say is, what are you doing home so early?” he corrected. “You're usually at the feed supply store for a few more hours.” He cringed as her brows went up, suddenly realising how incriminating that sounded.

“They're out of stock, so pick-up has been rescheduled for next week,” she explained as she hung up her jacket.

He nodded. “I see.”

“But you still haven't answered my question,” she continued, standing in front of them. "Why didn't you tell us you were bringing a guest home?”

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t plan to, Mom, but she had food dumped all over her by jocks and cheerleaders, and there were onion rings and chocolate milk in her hair, so she got off the bus, and I saw her sitting by the road, and—”

“Now, now, Clark - where are your manners?” she said with a knowing smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this charming young girl?”

He reddened and smiled sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am. Chloe, this is my mother, Martha Kent. Mom, this is Chloe Sullivan, the girl I was telling you about.”

“Ah, so you’re Chloe!” his mother said, her smile widening as she extended her hand. “Clark’s told me so much about you, I feel as though I know you already.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Kent,” Chloe replied politely, shaking his mother’s proffered hand. “Clark tells me you make the best apple pie in the state. Is he being honest, or just biased?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” his mother replied, her eyes twinkling. “And it just so happens that I have a fresh apple pie sitting in my oven. Care to make an impartial assessment?”

Chloe’s eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. “I would love to, ma’am. Thank you.”

***

Chapter 13…