FIC: "Truth", spoilers for "Hydro", "Justice"
Truth
by LJ
Spoilers: “Hydro”, speculation for “Justice”
As a West Coast girl, “Justice” hasn’t aired yet, so I still have a little bit of time before this is completely Jossed to hell. Also, this is the first time I've use the 'rich text' version of the livejournal update function, so let me know if it looks funny.
“You know,” I said, breezing into the kitchen of the Kent farmhouse, “at first I thought it was exciting. I mean, I’d figured out the true identity of the Green Arrow. How awesome is that? And then Lois told me her version of everything, and then I thought it was cute, you know?”
Clark stared at me, deer in headlights. Normally it was an endearing look on him, the big dumb alien I called ‘friend’, but not today. Not right now. He had paused in whatever he was doing - as if he hadn’t heard my car coming up the lane long before I had arrived - and still hadn’t resumed. Looking back on it, I almost feel sorry for the guy. It must have been like Hurricane Chloe had arrived.
“And then you came over to the Talon and we had some chuckles over the whole thing, very tongue-in-cheek, very hush-hush, but you knew what we were talking about, you knew that I knew what was up, and it was all great. I mean, the look on your face was just perfect when Lois dropped that bombshell on you, all ooh-la-la about that kiss.”
He blinked, still dazed. You’d think that after all these years he’d get used to me just barging in on him. It’s not like I do it to other people - just the ones I’m really close to, like Lois and Clark. (Though there was that unfortunate incident in tenth grade when I should have gone out to the barn first rather than the house and I learned what all my classmates had complained about re: parental privacy. It’s not like either of them were naked or anything, not yet, but let’s just say there is no plausible explanation for why Clark remained an only child.)
“But that was before I’d heard the story fifty times in one week. I mean, is that normal? Has Lois been in Smallville long enough now, on some kind of cumulative basis, to have acquired a meteor mutant power - namely, super annoyance? I mean, I know you’re a good kisser - we established your potential all the way back in eighth grade - but this? This is beyond TMI. I so do not need a play-by-play account of how awesome one Lois Lane finds the kissing technique of the Green Arrow aka one Clark Jerome Kent.”
There. I said it. I, Chloe Sullivan, knew that Clark Kent was the Green Arrow.
Looking back on it, I still think I did really well. I mean, based on all the evidence, especially my special knowledge of Clark’s abilities, what other conclusion was possible?
That weird look had crossed his face again, breaking the deer-in-headlights theme. It was like he didn’t know whether or not to be happy that Lois had liked the kiss. The guy has serious Issues so positive feedback was more or less A Good Thing. It was the source of that feedback that he was having trouble grasping: Lois Lane, my vertically-unchallenged cousin.
“Chloe,” he said in his I Need To Be Serious About This For Your Own Safety tone, “I’m not the Green Arrow.”
It’s a rare factoid that brings the deer-in-headlights look to my face, that given the situation, that was a worthy candidate. “What?”
“I’m not the Green Arrow,” he repeated.
I took a few steps forward, close enough to him to see what he had been doing - namely, slicing a pie. A genuine, made-from-scratch, Martha Kent creation. It smelled heavenly -
Okay, Chloe. Back on topic. Apparently, Clark is NOT the Green Arrow. Or so he claims.
“Clark, it’s okay. I figured it out. The Green Arrow has a hero complex; you have a hero complex. The Green Arrow demonstrated super-strength and super-speed; you have super-strength and super-speed. Need I go on? It’s so obvious - I mean, to anyone who knows your secret.”
He sighed and finished slicing the pie. “I’m not the Green Arrow, Chloe. Was I dressed up and pretending to be him that night - yes. I won’t deny that to you. But only that once, and that was to help him out.”
“Okay,” I said, pouting a little. “Then who is the Green Arrow?”
“I already told you - I can’t betray his identity. I keep his secret and he keeps mine.”
Stupid superhero fraternity. Makes a girl wish for her own superpowers, you know?
“Fine,” I huffed.
He laughed, just a little, but that annoyed me even more. What was up with that, laughing at me like that? “Grab those plates, would you?” he said, wrapping his big paws around the pie he’d been slicing. “And those forks?”
I did as asked, frowning, but I’d learned to just follow along when Clark made random requests, and followed him out to the barn.
The very populated barn.
“Clark, what’s going on?” I asked, taking in the odd assortment of young men variously located in his barn. Strangely, I recognized all four of them - that Bart guy that had hit on me a couple of years ago (I remember because I truly thought he was really cute), that guy Lois had hung out with at Crater Lake last year, the cyborg guy that Lana had run into with her car (it occurred to me that she was scarily good at that), and -
“Oliver?” I said in surprise. “What are you doing here?” I turned towards Clark. “What’s going on?”
Clark smiled. “If you’d left your cell phone on, you would’ve known that I was trying to get you to come over anyway,” he told me. Then, to Oliver: “She’s been having trouble believing I’m not the Green Arrow.”
Bart laughed.
Oliver gave him a Look before turning back to Clark. “Lois?” he said in a resigned tone. Poor guy. His girlfriend had a thing for a superhero. That sort of thing could given even the buffest billionaire an inferiority complex.
Clark nodded. “Yeah,” he drawled out.
“You trust her?” Oliver asked, with a nod in my direction. As if there was another ‘her’ to be found in this conclave of testosterone. Or whatever passed for testosterone for Clark, being an alien - intergalactic traveler - and all.
What could he possibly not trust me with? I was practically his cousin-in-law, after all.
Clark nodded again. “Absolutely. With everything.” Apparently, Clark had gotten better at the cloak-and-daggers stuff. I’d never heard him say anything before that sounded that…loaded.
Which brought the question: the only ‘everything’ he cold possibly be talking about was The Secret - aka Clark is A Big Dumb Alien Intergalactic Traveler - but why on earth would he have told Oliver Queen about it? Or, better yet, what circumstance would have brought it up in the first place?
Looking back, the clue-by-four was practically whacking me in the face. Apparently, denseness had rubbed off on me, though if it had come from Lois or from Clark was up for debate.
Oliver nodded. “Okay then. Tell her.”
“All right,” Clark said and turned to me. The other three were staring like this whole thing was the evening’s entertainment. Except, of course, the fact that it was two o’clock in the afternoon. “Chloe, Oliver’s the Green Arrow.”
I did everything that a typical girl would, and everyone knows that I’m not the typical girl. I sputtered, I denied, I cursed - mostly all in my head, of course. Then I gathered myself together, realizing exactly why I had thought Clark was the Green Arrow, all the pieces falling together, and I said, “You owe me big time.”
Oliver nodded, pursing his lips in that way that I hated but apparently Lois thought was cute. “Okay.”
“Big. Time.”
“We’ve established that.”
I put on my most devious smile. I’d had plenty of practice with it lately; I’d forced it on Clark just the previous week. “An interview. With the Green Arrow.”
He considered it a half a moment and then said, “Sure.”
“Okay,” I said. “Now explain,” I said to Clark, “what the heck’s going on.”
And that was how I met the Justice League for the first time.
END
by LJ
Spoilers: “Hydro”, speculation for “Justice”
As a West Coast girl, “Justice” hasn’t aired yet, so I still have a little bit of time before this is completely Jossed to hell. Also, this is the first time I've use the 'rich text' version of the livejournal update function, so let me know if it looks funny.
“You know,” I said, breezing into the kitchen of the Kent farmhouse, “at first I thought it was exciting. I mean, I’d figured out the true identity of the Green Arrow. How awesome is that? And then Lois told me her version of everything, and then I thought it was cute, you know?”
Clark stared at me, deer in headlights. Normally it was an endearing look on him, the big dumb alien I called ‘friend’, but not today. Not right now. He had paused in whatever he was doing - as if he hadn’t heard my car coming up the lane long before I had arrived - and still hadn’t resumed. Looking back on it, I almost feel sorry for the guy. It must have been like Hurricane Chloe had arrived.
“And then you came over to the Talon and we had some chuckles over the whole thing, very tongue-in-cheek, very hush-hush, but you knew what we were talking about, you knew that I knew what was up, and it was all great. I mean, the look on your face was just perfect when Lois dropped that bombshell on you, all ooh-la-la about that kiss.”
He blinked, still dazed. You’d think that after all these years he’d get used to me just barging in on him. It’s not like I do it to other people - just the ones I’m really close to, like Lois and Clark. (Though there was that unfortunate incident in tenth grade when I should have gone out to the barn first rather than the house and I learned what all my classmates had complained about re: parental privacy. It’s not like either of them were naked or anything, not yet, but let’s just say there is no plausible explanation for why Clark remained an only child.)
“But that was before I’d heard the story fifty times in one week. I mean, is that normal? Has Lois been in Smallville long enough now, on some kind of cumulative basis, to have acquired a meteor mutant power - namely, super annoyance? I mean, I know you’re a good kisser - we established your potential all the way back in eighth grade - but this? This is beyond TMI. I so do not need a play-by-play account of how awesome one Lois Lane finds the kissing technique of the Green Arrow aka one Clark Jerome Kent.”
There. I said it. I, Chloe Sullivan, knew that Clark Kent was the Green Arrow.
Looking back on it, I still think I did really well. I mean, based on all the evidence, especially my special knowledge of Clark’s abilities, what other conclusion was possible?
That weird look had crossed his face again, breaking the deer-in-headlights theme. It was like he didn’t know whether or not to be happy that Lois had liked the kiss. The guy has serious Issues so positive feedback was more or less A Good Thing. It was the source of that feedback that he was having trouble grasping: Lois Lane, my vertically-unchallenged cousin.
“Chloe,” he said in his I Need To Be Serious About This For Your Own Safety tone, “I’m not the Green Arrow.”
It’s a rare factoid that brings the deer-in-headlights look to my face, that given the situation, that was a worthy candidate. “What?”
“I’m not the Green Arrow,” he repeated.
I took a few steps forward, close enough to him to see what he had been doing - namely, slicing a pie. A genuine, made-from-scratch, Martha Kent creation. It smelled heavenly -
Okay, Chloe. Back on topic. Apparently, Clark is NOT the Green Arrow. Or so he claims.
“Clark, it’s okay. I figured it out. The Green Arrow has a hero complex; you have a hero complex. The Green Arrow demonstrated super-strength and super-speed; you have super-strength and super-speed. Need I go on? It’s so obvious - I mean, to anyone who knows your secret.”
He sighed and finished slicing the pie. “I’m not the Green Arrow, Chloe. Was I dressed up and pretending to be him that night - yes. I won’t deny that to you. But only that once, and that was to help him out.”
“Okay,” I said, pouting a little. “Then who is the Green Arrow?”
“I already told you - I can’t betray his identity. I keep his secret and he keeps mine.”
Stupid superhero fraternity. Makes a girl wish for her own superpowers, you know?
“Fine,” I huffed.
He laughed, just a little, but that annoyed me even more. What was up with that, laughing at me like that? “Grab those plates, would you?” he said, wrapping his big paws around the pie he’d been slicing. “And those forks?”
I did as asked, frowning, but I’d learned to just follow along when Clark made random requests, and followed him out to the barn.
The very populated barn.
“Clark, what’s going on?” I asked, taking in the odd assortment of young men variously located in his barn. Strangely, I recognized all four of them - that Bart guy that had hit on me a couple of years ago (I remember because I truly thought he was really cute), that guy Lois had hung out with at Crater Lake last year, the cyborg guy that Lana had run into with her car (it occurred to me that she was scarily good at that), and -
“Oliver?” I said in surprise. “What are you doing here?” I turned towards Clark. “What’s going on?”
Clark smiled. “If you’d left your cell phone on, you would’ve known that I was trying to get you to come over anyway,” he told me. Then, to Oliver: “She’s been having trouble believing I’m not the Green Arrow.”
Bart laughed.
Oliver gave him a Look before turning back to Clark. “Lois?” he said in a resigned tone. Poor guy. His girlfriend had a thing for a superhero. That sort of thing could given even the buffest billionaire an inferiority complex.
Clark nodded. “Yeah,” he drawled out.
“You trust her?” Oliver asked, with a nod in my direction. As if there was another ‘her’ to be found in this conclave of testosterone. Or whatever passed for testosterone for Clark, being an alien - intergalactic traveler - and all.
What could he possibly not trust me with? I was practically his cousin-in-law, after all.
Clark nodded again. “Absolutely. With everything.” Apparently, Clark had gotten better at the cloak-and-daggers stuff. I’d never heard him say anything before that sounded that…loaded.
Which brought the question: the only ‘everything’ he cold possibly be talking about was The Secret - aka Clark is A Big Dumb Alien Intergalactic Traveler - but why on earth would he have told Oliver Queen about it? Or, better yet, what circumstance would have brought it up in the first place?
Looking back, the clue-by-four was practically whacking me in the face. Apparently, denseness had rubbed off on me, though if it had come from Lois or from Clark was up for debate.
Oliver nodded. “Okay then. Tell her.”
“All right,” Clark said and turned to me. The other three were staring like this whole thing was the evening’s entertainment. Except, of course, the fact that it was two o’clock in the afternoon. “Chloe, Oliver’s the Green Arrow.”
I did everything that a typical girl would, and everyone knows that I’m not the typical girl. I sputtered, I denied, I cursed - mostly all in my head, of course. Then I gathered myself together, realizing exactly why I had thought Clark was the Green Arrow, all the pieces falling together, and I said, “You owe me big time.”
Oliver nodded, pursing his lips in that way that I hated but apparently Lois thought was cute. “Okay.”
“Big. Time.”
“We’ve established that.”
I put on my most devious smile. I’d had plenty of practice with it lately; I’d forced it on Clark just the previous week. “An interview. With the Green Arrow.”
He considered it a half a moment and then said, “Sure.”
“Okay,” I said. “Now explain,” I said to Clark, “what the heck’s going on.”
And that was how I met the Justice League for the first time.
END