babydee1: (Chlark - Young!Chlark by Dee)
[personal profile] babydee1
New All The Way update specially for [ profile] ellyfanfiction, who owns this fic and has been incredibly patient with me as I try to balance my writing commitments.  Have a wonderful birthday, Elly! :-D

Alas, the time has come to acknowledge the presence of the Pink One in this story.  Thankfully, she does not have a speaking role at this point. ;-)

Enjoy! :-)   Still shamelessly pilfering pictures of my all-time Young!Chlark pair. :)

Title:              All The Way
Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlark
Rating:           PG13 (for now)
Warnings:     Lana! :-(
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. :-)
Author’s note: written for [ profile] ellyfanfiction, who won a Chlark story from me in an auction.  Banner by [ profile] summerstar882. Thanks, hun! :)
Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.
Chapter 7
Don’t dream too far
Don’t lose sight of who you are
Don’t remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
But I’m not that girl
  • Idina Menzel, I’m Not That Girl (Wicked Broadway Soundtrack)
Clark was as good as his word.  She was waiting by the road for the school bus on Monday Morning when a copy of The Daily Planet appeared over her shoulder.
“That’ll be fifty cents, ma’am,” he said in a pinched, nasal voice.
“Call me ‘ma’am’ ever again, and you’ll be needing fifty stitches,” she retorted, grabbing the newspaper and turning to face him with a smile. 
He laughed.  “Sorry, ‘miss.’  Did you have a good weekend?”
“Good enough,” she replied, handing him the requisite coin for the paper.  “Spent most of it doing the rest of my unpacking and getting my internet connection sorted.  How about you?”
He shrugged.  “The usual; reading, doing chores…”
Chores?” she echoed.  “People still use that word?”
He gave her a withering look.  “Duties, then.  Helping around the house.  Or whatever you choose to call it.”
“You spent the whole weekend doing chores?” she went on in disbelief.  “I thought you’d have been at Pete’s, making a dent in those video games of his.”
“Pete has loads of brothers, they do family stuff at weekends,” he explained.
“I see.  But still…” she frowned.  “It seems wrong that you spend your entire weekend reading books and doing chores.  You should do fun stuff with your time off.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged.  “I dunno; climbing trees, going on hikes, swimming…”
“It’s no fun going on your own,” he pointed out. 
“Who said you have to go alone?” she said slyly. 
He stared at her twinkling eyes, and his own widened.  “You’ll come with me?” 
“We’ll go together,” she corrected.  “Besides, I don’t have any other friends around here, and I’ve never been hiking before; be good to go with someone who knows the terrain.”
“Cool!” he grinned.  “So, this Saturday then?”
“You’re on,” she replied, rising to her feet as the School Bus approached.  “But we’ll start with tree-climbing, I think.  That one I do know.”
Strangely enough, that was the one thing Clark had never done, following an incident when he was about five years old.  He had been playing with other children during an Easter Egg hunt, and had innocently tried to lift up an oak to see if there were any eggs hidden beneath it.  Luckily his parents had been close enough to stop him before he’d fully uprooted the thing, and explained patiently that trees were off limits.
Then there was the whole inexplicable, insane fear of heights thing that had plagued him for as long as he could remember.  But he wasn’t going to let Chloe know that
“Tree climbing this Saturday,” he confirmed as they climbed onto the bus.
Chloe spent the free period just before lunch prepping the Torch for the painting she’d planned to do after school.  Clark was more than happy to give her an assist, as was Pete.  Until a cute African-American girl walked past the Torch window, and Pete’s eyes lit up with masculine interest.
“I, er…think we may need more newspaper,” he said blithely as he headed towards the door.  “I’ll catch up with y’all at lunchtime.”
“Typical,” Clark muttered under his breath. 
Chloe looked up from the table she was covering and grinned.  “I take it he’s always been like that?”
“Pretty much.  He does like the ladies, but to be honest, I think he’s particularly fond of Carmen.” 
“How about you?” she asked demurely.  “Is there anyone you’re particularly fond of?” 
Clark’s face reddened and he fidgeted under her direct gaze.  Just then, the bell rang, signalling the end of the free period and the beginning of lunch.
“Saved by the bell,” she said with a smile as she stood and grabbed his hand.  “Come on, let’s go grab something to eat.” 
“Sure,” he replied as the made their way through the hall.  “It’s a good thing you have me with you, so I can tell you what’s popular on the menu, and what to avoid.”
“Yeah, the same goes with people,” she observed as they stepped into the cafeteria and glanced at the tables.  “Mind telling me who’s who?” 
They got their food and sat on an unoccupied table near the exit.  Clark pointed out the school’s movers and shakers, most of whom were on the school’s football and cheerleading teams. 
“So those are the brutes I’ll be taking on in my transport campaign,” she said thoughtfully.  “I’ve got my work cut out for me.” 
“You were serious about that?” he asked, looking dismayed.  “I thought you were just making conversation!” 
“What they’re doing isn’t right,” she insisted.  “Someone has to take them to task for it.” 
A tall blonde guy in a SHS jacket breezed into the cafeteria and sat at the head of the jock’s table, a huge grin on his handsome face. 
Chloe frowned and jerked her head in his direction.  “Who’s he?” 
Clark turned back to see who she was referring to.  “Oh, that’s Whitney Fordman,” he replied gruffly.  “Smallville High’s very own Golden Boy.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.  “Let me guess: Quarterback?”
And captain of the football team,” he sighed.  “You really don’t wanna mess with him, Chloe.  He scarecrows people in cornfields.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but I guess it’s not a good thing,” she said with a giggle. 
“Sorry, I forget you’re new.  It’s when the jocks pick on an unfortunate student and tie them up on the scarecrow stand in the fields, and leave them there overnight,” he explained. 
Chloe glared at the jocks in disgust.  “Another vile school tradition that needs to be addressed,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at said Whitney. 
Clark sighed.  “Chloe, it’s just high school stuff…”
“Which is potentially dangerous, Clark!” she exclaimed.  “I’m sure you’d agree with me if they’d ever done something like that to you.” 
“Well they haven’t, and hopefully they never will,” he said grimly. 
“You forgot to say ‘touch wood’,” she pointed out, knocking on the table.  
“And I’m not gonna.  I’m not superstitious.” 
She shrugged.  “Suit yourself.” 
They ate in silence for a while, with Chloe keeping a close eye on the group of boys and girls at the Popular Table. 
“Who’s he dating?” she asked after a few minutes as she munched on a stick of celery.  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Chloe,” he admonished. 
She swallowed the morsel and grinned.  “Okay.  So who’s he dating, then?”
“Why, are you interested?” he asked with a smile.
“Of course not!” she said defensively.  “I’m just…curious.  No doubt she’s a cheerleader, the prettiest on the squad.” 
Clark gave a wistful smile.  “Yeah, she is.” 
Chloe raised her hands.  “See?  Totally predictable.  And I bet they’re probably a shoo-in for Prom King and Queen at the end of the year.” 
Clark didn’t answer.  He was staring just beyond her shoulder, his eyes alight with keen interest.  Curious, she looked over her shoulder to see what had caught his attention.
 Walking towards them was a stunning young girl in a cheerleader’s outfit with olive eyes and long, shiny dark hair.  Chloe stared, almost captivated by the blend of innocence and beauty in the girl’s young face. 
“Who’s that?” Chloe whispered as the girl swept past them regally.
“That’s Lana Lang,” Clark replied, a faraway look on his face as he visually tracked her path to the footballers’ table.  “She’s Whitney’s girlfriend.” 
“Prettiest girl in school?”
He nodded.  “Yep.”
“Ah,” she mused.  “I can believe that.” 
Clark remained silent, his gaze on the passing cheerleader.  Chloe observed as his expression turned mournful when her boyfriend put his arm around her and welcomed her with a kiss. 
“Mesmerising, isn’t it?” Chloe quipped. 
Clark blinked and finally stared at her.  “Huh?”
“That hair.  All dark and shimmery with life.  It’s almost hypnotic.” 
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said blankly. 
She snorted.  “Course not.  Like you and every other guy in this room didn’t totally stop what you were doing to stare when she walked past.” 
He shifted uncomfortably.  “Well… she’s a pretty girl, and…”
“Omigosh,” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in discovery.  “You like her, don’t you?”
Clark blushed so hard he closely resembled a tomato.  “Do not!”
“Do, too!”  she shot back, and then started singing.  “Clark and Lana sittin’ in a tree…”
“Keep your voice down, she’ll hear you!” he hissed. 
“You like her.  Admit it!” she pressed.
“Okay, yes, I like her!” he whispered fiercely.  “But that’s where it begins and ends, alright?”
“Oh, don’t be a pansy.  You should totally make a play for her!”
“I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Because…because I can’t get near her,” he whispered. 
“I’m sure she’s not attached to the Quarterback’s hip twenty-four-seven,” she argued. 
“You don’t understand,” he sighed, pushing his tray of food away.
“So explain it to me!”
“We need to get back to class,” he said shortly. 
“But I’m not done with my lunch yet!”
“Well, I’ll see you when you are, then!” he said stiffly, and walked out of the cafeteria, leaving her staring at his retreating back.
He found her after school, alone in the Torch as expected.  She had was wearing an apron over her school clothes and was up a ladder with a paintbrush, trying to get to the top corner which was just out of her reach. 
“Chloe?” he said tentatively. 
“Go away.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling contrite.  “I shouldn’t have stormed off like that.  It was very rude of me.” 
Slowly she lowered her hand and turned to face him.  “I was only trying to help,” she said, her eyes sad.  “You didn’t have to get all defensive with me.”  
“I know, he said quietly.  “I apologise.” 
Chloe stared at him for long moments, and then her lips curved in a smile.
“I can’t get to that top corner,” she said.  “Wanna grab a brush and give me a hand?”
He grinned.  “Of course.” 
The paint job was fully completed an hour later.  Clark and Chloe divested themselves of their aprons, washed their hands and sat in a corner on the floor against a dry wall, sharing a soda and a bowl of salty popcorn. 
“Maybe I came on a little too strong,” she admitted, referring to their lunchtime spat. 
He gave her a disbelieving glance.  “Ya think?” 
She rolled her eyes.  “Okay, so I pretty much ambushed you into confessing your feelings, and for that I apologise.” 
“Apology accepted.”  He held out his hand, and she shook it warmly. 
“And don’t worry, I’m not gonna badger you with questions about Lana anymore,” she went on sincerely.  “But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” 
Clark stared at their joined hands for a moment, and then suddenly enveloped her in a warm hug. 
“Thank you, Chloe,” he said.  “I…I don’t talk about my feelings much, so it was kind of a shock when you asked the question this afternoon.” 
“I understand,” she replied sincerely.  “I’m an only child too, so I know how it is; though I have the misfortune of being both insanely curious, and completely unable to keep my mouth shut for more than five seconds.” 
“It’s not a misfortune, Chloe.  It’s a talent that will make you the best reporter in the world someday,” he corrected. 
She grinned.  “You got that right.” 
He stared at her for several seconds, and then ruffled her hair affectionately. 
“It’s so great having you as a friend, Chloe,” he said warmly.  “I like not to have to worry about mushy stuff with you.”    
She blinked.  “Mushy stuff?” 
He nodded with a grin.  “Yeah, we’re past all that.  Good thing we got that kiss out of the way early on, huh?” 
“Yeah,” she said, sounding wistful.  “Lucky us.”  
Chapter 8



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