(no subject)
yes i am dork
"Hey, Clark," Chloe said as she answered her cell phone.
"How did you know it was me?" he asked on the other end.
"It's called caller ID, you should get it," she laughed.
"Oh, right," he said. She thought he sounded at least a little embarrassed about the question.
"What's up?" she inquired, shifting on the couch.
"Well, I was just calling to see what was up with you, actually."
"Oh, the usual Thanksgiving fare. Watching the Macy's Parade. Listening to Dad swear about cooking," she said good naturedly.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed, turning her full attention to the TV.
"What?" Clark asked.
"The SpongeBob balloon is going by!" Chloe said with a giggle.
"You're five years old," Clark said, but she could detect the amusement in his voice.
"You should try it sometime, Clark. It's fun. And I looove SpongeBob."
"I had no idea," he shot back sarcastically.
Chloe rolled her eyes and switched the phone to her other ear. "So why did you really call?"
"Well, if your dad is really against cooking and he doesn't have anything going yet, Mom and Dad wanted to know if you two wanted to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. We have more than enough, so we'd really like you to come."
"Aww, that's sweet, Clark. Where's Lana today?" she asked, knowing she would have been the first to be invited.
Clark sighed. "She's at Nell's. They haven't seen each other in awhile, and Nell kind of insisted. But this isn't about Lana. I don't want my best friend and her father to starve."
"I believe you," Chloe said in a singsong voice.
"So will you come?"
"Hold on a sec," she said, taking the phone from her ear. "Daaaad!" she called.
Gabe stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Yeah?"
"The Kents invited us for Thanksgiving. Whaddya say?" she grinned, knowing the answer that was coming.
"Hallelujah!" he exclaimed, going back in the kitchen to put the pots and pans away.
Chloe laughed as she got back on the phone. "I think that's a yes," she said. "What time should we be there?"
"Around one is good," he said.
"Perfect. The parade ends at noon."
"Five years old," Clark reminded her.
"And proud of it," she said haughtily. "I'll see you later, buzzkill."
"Later, Chloe," Clark said and hung up the phone.
Chloe smiled. She loved her father dearly, but she had been hoping to spend the holiday with more than one person. Clark's invitation was a welcome one, and what she had secretly longed for. The Kent's house was warm and cozy, one where a real family lived. And even though she felt she should have gotten over that dream a long time ago, it stayed with her. Martha was always cooking something, it seemed, and the house was always tidy. For Chloe it was something out of a pleasant dream, and something she knew Clark took for granted.
She had been afraid of what her dad would come up with for dinner, and she knew he was grateful to not have to try to provide a decent meal for his daughter. He always wanted to make it work, and he always tried, but the more complicated dishes didn't exist in his repetoire.
With Lana away, her dad would be the only one there that didn't know Clark's secret, so she was going to have to be careful. She had gotten used to talking to Clark with complete honesty, and she had to remember who did and didn't know about his powers. She knew she would be fine, even if she hated keeping it from her father. All they could hope for was a nice, normal Thanksgiving with family and friends.
As soon as Santa had rolled down the New York City streets in his sleigh, Chloe got ready to go, urging her father to not get involved in any football games until they were at the Kent's. She was almost certain Mr. Kent would be happy to have a football buddy for the day.
They arrived at the farm a few minutes after one, and Chloe was greeted with hugs while her father was greeted with handshakes. The guys immediately launched into what teams were going to kick butt in the games, while Martha and Chloe just shared a smile at how giddy they were about it.
Chloe insisted helping Martha with the final preparations in the kitchen, and she even mixed the fruit salad that had already been cut up.
"I'm afraid this is the extent of my culinary talents," Chloe said.
"Oh, no," Martha insisted. "With a little time and a little practice, you'd do just fine in the kitchen."
"I'd have to have the time first."
Martha said gently. "I know this is kind fo off subject but I know you love Clark as much as we do, Chloe. And since I can't exactly express it in front of Gabe, I just want you to know how thankful Jonathan and I both are that Clark has a friend like you. Someone that he can trust with his secret, and would never betray him."
Chloe thought she was going to cry, but she blinked back the moisture that threatened to gather in her eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent. That means a lot."
"I know how hard it is being in his confidence, and if you ever need help handling it, our door is always open, okay?"
Chloe nodded. "Okay." She walked around the counter and gave Clark's mother a hug. "You'll never know how much it means to me to be able to be there for him like this," she said, the tears threatening again. "And I'm turning into a sap," she laughed.
"Nah," Martha said with a smile. "You've just been hanging around here too long," she teased.
Chloe shook her head, amused.
"We better get this stuff out to the table before the men folk revolt," Martha said cheerfully, and picked up a couple of side dishes.
Chloe helped, and when they made their first trip to the table, Clark joined in and brought the turkey out.
When the table was loaded with food, they all joined hands and Jonathan said grace. As Chloe held Clark's hand she silently prayed that Clark would see how much she cared about him, even though she thought it was selfish. She was thankful for what she had, but that never stopped her from hoping for more. She was only human, after all.
After the prayer, Jonathan carved the turkey, and everyone dug in, passing dishes around and piling their plates with food. The meal passed pleasantly, and Chloe was happy that they had been able to come.
When everyone was stuffed to the point that the mere thought of moving exhausted them, they somehow managed to clear the table. Martha insisted the girls would do the dishes, but Clark stayed to gather a few scraps for Shelby.
"Thank God for dishwashers," Martha said as she loaded it, after Chloe briefly rinsed the plates with the sink sprayer.
"Amen," Chloe agreed. She eyed Clark. "Shouldn't you be out there with the big, macho men seeking out a football game?"
Clark shrugged. "I'm not really in the mood right now."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Are you ill?"
"Nope." He fidgeted with the small bowl of scraps he was holding. "I'm just going to go find Shelby and give him a treat."
"Okay," she said with a frown.
"I'll check his temperature when he comes back," Martha said with a laugh.
"Good idea."
But he didn't come back. When the dishes were loaded and Martha thanked her for all her help, Chloe said she would go see what was keeping Clark.
She found him on the back porch, Shelby at his feet, staring off into the late afternoon sky.
"Hey, Clark," she said, watching him turn to her as he broke his reverie. "What are you doing out here?"
He shrugged. "Nothing much. Did Mom let you out of the kitchen finally, or did you escape?"
Chloe smiled. "I don't mind helping her. She cooked that wonderful meal, after all."
He nodded.
"Pretty day," she said, wondering when she ran out of interesting conversation openings.
"Yeah."
"Wow, that turkey must be lulling us into deep relaxation already. We're totally monosyllabic today," she deadpanned.
Clark smiled at that. "I was just thinking is all," he finally admitted.
"Mmm. Dangerous, that thinking," she teased. "What were you thinking about?"
"It's - silly," Clark said, reaching down to pet the dog.
"I know what you were thinking," Chloe said in her most confident voice.
"Yeah? You're a mind reader now?"
"Yes. You were thinking about what you're thankful for."
"And you knew that because..."
"Because this holiday does that to people, silly," she said with her best mischievous grin. "You don't have to be a mind reader."
"I guess not," Clark said, leaning back in the porch swing.
"So. What is Clark Kent thankful for?" Chloe asked, taking a seat beside him.
He gave her a sideways glance like he would rather not answer, but she gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs.
"Come on, I won't let the world know what a sap you are. You can tell me," she coaxed.
He sighed. "I'm thankful that my mother is still alive."
Chloe nodded. "And?" Being with Lana would be next, she was sure.
"I'm thankful for... you," he said, staring at his shoes.
She shook her head. He was such a boy. "Aww, little ol' me?" she drawled.
"It's not a joke," he said, turning to look at her.
"I know, Clark. I was just trying to ease your obvious embarrassment," she said wryly.
"I'm not embarrassed. I'm - a guy," he protested.
"There's an original excuse."
"I really am, Chloe."
"A guy? Yeah, I noticed," she said, doing her best to be a pain.
"Thankful for you. Even your smartass ways," he said, proving he could give as good as he got.
"Yeah, well, I'm talented," she shrugged.
"You've gotten me through the last six months, and saved me more times than I could count."
She pointed her finger at him. "You have a point there, buddy," she said, but they both knew she was joking. "I'm just glad you finally let me in your life, Clark. I mean, really in. Even though it wasn't totally voluntary."
"I would've -"
"You've explained a million times," she cut him off. "And it's okay. The past is not the point. The point is now. We're young, we're currently alive - but check back on that tomorrow, the way things go around here - and we're doing all right, right?"
"Right," Clark said firmly.
"Then we have blessings to count. That's more than a lot of people have."
"I guess so."
"You wanna go in and see what your dad and my dad have decided to torture us girls with?" she said, standing up.
"Sure."
She took his arm loosely as they walked back around the house.
"You know there's no SpongeBob in football, right?" he said with a perfectly straight face.
"Shut up, Clark," Chloe said as they entered the warmth of his house once more.
"Hey, Clark," Chloe said as she answered her cell phone.
"How did you know it was me?" he asked on the other end.
"It's called caller ID, you should get it," she laughed.
"Oh, right," he said. She thought he sounded at least a little embarrassed about the question.
"What's up?" she inquired, shifting on the couch.
"Well, I was just calling to see what was up with you, actually."
"Oh, the usual Thanksgiving fare. Watching the Macy's Parade. Listening to Dad swear about cooking," she said good naturedly.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed, turning her full attention to the TV.
"What?" Clark asked.
"The SpongeBob balloon is going by!" Chloe said with a giggle.
"You're five years old," Clark said, but she could detect the amusement in his voice.
"You should try it sometime, Clark. It's fun. And I looove SpongeBob."
"I had no idea," he shot back sarcastically.
Chloe rolled her eyes and switched the phone to her other ear. "So why did you really call?"
"Well, if your dad is really against cooking and he doesn't have anything going yet, Mom and Dad wanted to know if you two wanted to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. We have more than enough, so we'd really like you to come."
"Aww, that's sweet, Clark. Where's Lana today?" she asked, knowing she would have been the first to be invited.
Clark sighed. "She's at Nell's. They haven't seen each other in awhile, and Nell kind of insisted. But this isn't about Lana. I don't want my best friend and her father to starve."
"I believe you," Chloe said in a singsong voice.
"So will you come?"
"Hold on a sec," she said, taking the phone from her ear. "Daaaad!" she called.
Gabe stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Yeah?"
"The Kents invited us for Thanksgiving. Whaddya say?" she grinned, knowing the answer that was coming.
"Hallelujah!" he exclaimed, going back in the kitchen to put the pots and pans away.
Chloe laughed as she got back on the phone. "I think that's a yes," she said. "What time should we be there?"
"Around one is good," he said.
"Perfect. The parade ends at noon."
"Five years old," Clark reminded her.
"And proud of it," she said haughtily. "I'll see you later, buzzkill."
"Later, Chloe," Clark said and hung up the phone.
Chloe smiled. She loved her father dearly, but she had been hoping to spend the holiday with more than one person. Clark's invitation was a welcome one, and what she had secretly longed for. The Kent's house was warm and cozy, one where a real family lived. And even though she felt she should have gotten over that dream a long time ago, it stayed with her. Martha was always cooking something, it seemed, and the house was always tidy. For Chloe it was something out of a pleasant dream, and something she knew Clark took for granted.
She had been afraid of what her dad would come up with for dinner, and she knew he was grateful to not have to try to provide a decent meal for his daughter. He always wanted to make it work, and he always tried, but the more complicated dishes didn't exist in his repetoire.
With Lana away, her dad would be the only one there that didn't know Clark's secret, so she was going to have to be careful. She had gotten used to talking to Clark with complete honesty, and she had to remember who did and didn't know about his powers. She knew she would be fine, even if she hated keeping it from her father. All they could hope for was a nice, normal Thanksgiving with family and friends.
As soon as Santa had rolled down the New York City streets in his sleigh, Chloe got ready to go, urging her father to not get involved in any football games until they were at the Kent's. She was almost certain Mr. Kent would be happy to have a football buddy for the day.
They arrived at the farm a few minutes after one, and Chloe was greeted with hugs while her father was greeted with handshakes. The guys immediately launched into what teams were going to kick butt in the games, while Martha and Chloe just shared a smile at how giddy they were about it.
Chloe insisted helping Martha with the final preparations in the kitchen, and she even mixed the fruit salad that had already been cut up.
"I'm afraid this is the extent of my culinary talents," Chloe said.
"Oh, no," Martha insisted. "With a little time and a little practice, you'd do just fine in the kitchen."
"I'd have to have the time first."
Martha said gently. "I know this is kind fo off subject but I know you love Clark as much as we do, Chloe. And since I can't exactly express it in front of Gabe, I just want you to know how thankful Jonathan and I both are that Clark has a friend like you. Someone that he can trust with his secret, and would never betray him."
Chloe thought she was going to cry, but she blinked back the moisture that threatened to gather in her eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Kent. That means a lot."
"I know how hard it is being in his confidence, and if you ever need help handling it, our door is always open, okay?"
Chloe nodded. "Okay." She walked around the counter and gave Clark's mother a hug. "You'll never know how much it means to me to be able to be there for him like this," she said, the tears threatening again. "And I'm turning into a sap," she laughed.
"Nah," Martha said with a smile. "You've just been hanging around here too long," she teased.
Chloe shook her head, amused.
"We better get this stuff out to the table before the men folk revolt," Martha said cheerfully, and picked up a couple of side dishes.
Chloe helped, and when they made their first trip to the table, Clark joined in and brought the turkey out.
When the table was loaded with food, they all joined hands and Jonathan said grace. As Chloe held Clark's hand she silently prayed that Clark would see how much she cared about him, even though she thought it was selfish. She was thankful for what she had, but that never stopped her from hoping for more. She was only human, after all.
After the prayer, Jonathan carved the turkey, and everyone dug in, passing dishes around and piling their plates with food. The meal passed pleasantly, and Chloe was happy that they had been able to come.
When everyone was stuffed to the point that the mere thought of moving exhausted them, they somehow managed to clear the table. Martha insisted the girls would do the dishes, but Clark stayed to gather a few scraps for Shelby.
"Thank God for dishwashers," Martha said as she loaded it, after Chloe briefly rinsed the plates with the sink sprayer.
"Amen," Chloe agreed. She eyed Clark. "Shouldn't you be out there with the big, macho men seeking out a football game?"
Clark shrugged. "I'm not really in the mood right now."
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Are you ill?"
"Nope." He fidgeted with the small bowl of scraps he was holding. "I'm just going to go find Shelby and give him a treat."
"Okay," she said with a frown.
"I'll check his temperature when he comes back," Martha said with a laugh.
"Good idea."
But he didn't come back. When the dishes were loaded and Martha thanked her for all her help, Chloe said she would go see what was keeping Clark.
She found him on the back porch, Shelby at his feet, staring off into the late afternoon sky.
"Hey, Clark," she said, watching him turn to her as he broke his reverie. "What are you doing out here?"
He shrugged. "Nothing much. Did Mom let you out of the kitchen finally, or did you escape?"
Chloe smiled. "I don't mind helping her. She cooked that wonderful meal, after all."
He nodded.
"Pretty day," she said, wondering when she ran out of interesting conversation openings.
"Yeah."
"Wow, that turkey must be lulling us into deep relaxation already. We're totally monosyllabic today," she deadpanned.
Clark smiled at that. "I was just thinking is all," he finally admitted.
"Mmm. Dangerous, that thinking," she teased. "What were you thinking about?"
"It's - silly," Clark said, reaching down to pet the dog.
"I know what you were thinking," Chloe said in her most confident voice.
"Yeah? You're a mind reader now?"
"Yes. You were thinking about what you're thankful for."
"And you knew that because..."
"Because this holiday does that to people, silly," she said with her best mischievous grin. "You don't have to be a mind reader."
"I guess not," Clark said, leaning back in the porch swing.
"So. What is Clark Kent thankful for?" Chloe asked, taking a seat beside him.
He gave her a sideways glance like he would rather not answer, but she gave him a gentle elbow in the ribs.
"Come on, I won't let the world know what a sap you are. You can tell me," she coaxed.
He sighed. "I'm thankful that my mother is still alive."
Chloe nodded. "And?" Being with Lana would be next, she was sure.
"I'm thankful for... you," he said, staring at his shoes.
She shook her head. He was such a boy. "Aww, little ol' me?" she drawled.
"It's not a joke," he said, turning to look at her.
"I know, Clark. I was just trying to ease your obvious embarrassment," she said wryly.
"I'm not embarrassed. I'm - a guy," he protested.
"There's an original excuse."
"I really am, Chloe."
"A guy? Yeah, I noticed," she said, doing her best to be a pain.
"Thankful for you. Even your smartass ways," he said, proving he could give as good as he got.
"Yeah, well, I'm talented," she shrugged.
"You've gotten me through the last six months, and saved me more times than I could count."
She pointed her finger at him. "You have a point there, buddy," she said, but they both knew she was joking. "I'm just glad you finally let me in your life, Clark. I mean, really in. Even though it wasn't totally voluntary."
"I would've -"
"You've explained a million times," she cut him off. "And it's okay. The past is not the point. The point is now. We're young, we're currently alive - but check back on that tomorrow, the way things go around here - and we're doing all right, right?"
"Right," Clark said firmly.
"Then we have blessings to count. That's more than a lot of people have."
"I guess so."
"You wanna go in and see what your dad and my dad have decided to torture us girls with?" she said, standing up.
"Sure."
She took his arm loosely as they walked back around the house.
"You know there's no SpongeBob in football, right?" he said with a perfectly straight face.
"Shut up, Clark," Chloe said as they entered the warmth of his house once more.