Sunday, December 5, 2010

grazing complications

Reccing Notes: Sometimes there's nothing better (or hotter) than getting it all out in the open. And in this- with Chloe and Davis's frustrations spilling over after leaving Smallville together, inversely shows how much they need each other and just how right they are together.

by lust_4sorrow at her livejournal
1023 words, pg-13, post-beast

Neither Davis nor Chloe understands how the wall has formed or how they’ve gotten here. They are simply aware of the way words won’t stop leaving their lips and the pain that’s seeping in their skin, touching their bones and hearts.They’re fighting.

They’re arguing, two forms standing tensely in front of one another in a dully decorated motel room. Davis’ hands are curled into fists by his sides and Chloe’s throat is going sore from all the yelling she’s done. The paths taken, actions done, words spoken have all fused into a wall in their minds that appears in the worst of moments, a wall so strong and unfortunate that it pulses as it takes in their current state. Neither Davis nor Chloe understands how the wall has formed or how they’ve gotten here. They are simply aware of the way words won’t stop leaving their lips and the pain that’s seeping in their skin, touching their bones and hearts.

Green eyes glaring at every inch of the motel room, Chloe yells, barely thinking, just letting the anger in the air embrace her, “I hate this room and this stupid little town!”

Davis’ eyes darken, his knuckles going white. “You think I like being here? You think I like these people or the fact that I can barely leave this fucking room because someone might recognize me? Do you think that I like being trapped?!”

Hearing him curse makes her wince, but she doesn’t relent. She takes sight of his shaking fists and doesn’t frighten. In the back of her frazzled mind she knows he won’t hurt her-not physically. Looking at the old flowery wallpaper of the room, another brick settles atop the wall in her brain, the cement cultivated by angry determination. “You’re not the only who feels trapped Davis. Do you have any idea how much I despise not having a home, being on the run like some sort of animal!”

The word animal makes him flinch and his fists uncurl as he steps closer to her and a growl escapes him. His eyes begin to grow wild while her eyes begin to reflect some guilt, some thought outside of hatred. Either way, she steps closer to him, her set jaw a challenge. Davis jaw twitches, his chest heaves but his eyes are their dark, dark brown. They both know he won’t hurt her- not physically, never physically.

He snarls, speaks through gritted teeth, “No one said you had to be here. It was your decision to run, this was your idea. We’re here because of you.”

Chloe blinks rapidly, his words making her throat ache. She swallows it down like a bitter pill, ignores the voice in her head that says he’s right. She steps closer to him and focuses on keeping her voice strong.

“No…we’re here because you’re an alien who just happens to have the ability to turn into a monster! We’re here because you couldn’t stop killing!” She reminds him of his past digressions and her eyes fill with tears when his chin slightly quivers. Her hands suddenly settle atop his heaving chest, fingers curling into fists. He glances down- as if in shame-, lets his lips part before raising his hands and grabbing her wrists. His fingers close around her wrists tightly but not tight enough to leave a bruise. The subconscious tenderness makes her chest clench with guilt.

“If my being a monster bothers you so much, then go call Clark. I’m sure your best friend wouldn’t mind saving you from me,” he says, voice soft but immensely pained. Chloe’s lips quiver at the sound of it and she gasps when he releases her wrists and turns away, his back facing her. She steps back, arms curling around her middle, her back shaking as she watches his back remain tense. How…how could…how could she? How could they?

She shakes her head desperately, mentally kicking the wall until it crumbles and lets a river of sorrow flow down her cheek. Chloe turns and pulls the door open, then runs. She runs down the hall, runs, runs, runs passed the five year old girls playing with dolls. She runs until the hallway meets a wall and her chest is rising and falling rapidly. She leans against the wall, feels an idle tear slip down her cheek. Her eyes close, her teeth bite into her lip. She takes deep soothing breaths, feels the need for Davis’ arms around her.

& & &

Two hours later her back is still against the wall, her knees touching her chest as she wraps her arms around them. She lifts her face from her knees, opens her eyes and for the first time, notices the charm bracelet hanging limply on her wrist. She touches it with her fingers, eyes the little coffee mug charm hanging down the chain. An agonized chuckle escapes her and suddenly she’s rising and running back to the motel room. She gets there in a matter of seconds, stops when she’s about to collide with the door. Hands shaky, she lifts one, and makes a fist but doesn’t move it. She bites her lip nervously, eyes filling with tears when she hears movement behind the door. Her fist shakes and she hears him move again. She sniffles and suddenly she hears Davis’ palm hit the door and the mix of a growl and whimper.

“Davis-“ she whispers. The door opens and she falls easily into his arms, her fist opening up so that she can cup his cheek. His strong arms wrap around her waist, pull her to his broad chest, rock them back and forth. She shakes her head, their forehead pressing together.

“I’m sorry, so sorry. I-

“Shh. I’m sorry too. We shouldn’t have…I didn’t-

“I know.” They interrupt each other, arms tightening around each other, eyes closing at the comforting feeling.


“Shh, we’ll figure out something. It’s okay-

“I’m sorry-

“Me too, me too.” They whisper desperately against the other’s lips, fingertips tracing from cheeks to collar bones to hips then back up to lips. They both aware that they need to think things over, that they’ll have to leave this town soon but right now Davis is running his hands through Chloe’s hair the way she loves and she’s running her hands down his back the way he needs and nothing…nothing else matters.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

with the end of the world in your eyes

Reccing Notes:I've read possibly all the Beast fanfics there are for Chlavis, and none, I think may have touched me quite as much as this. There's the fact that there is Doomsday inside Davis, and that's horrible and ugly and so are the deaths it causes, but then there's the fact that Davis doesn't want to let it hurt Clark, no more than Chloe does, and Davis himself (the man who wanted his whole life to save people, build a real life with Chloe) might be the ultimate victim of this story.

by autumn_whispers at her livejournal
2121 words, r, injustice

The hand he rests against her jaw is sticky with blood but firm. “Look at me,” he says and when she does his lips are soft on hers, eyes wide and warm.

Her mouth yields under the pressure, opens up to him. He delves deep, desperation cloying the taste of him. She feels the slick underside of his mouth against her tongue and the beast shifting, yowling inside its human prison.
It’s easier than Chloe expects, to fall into this new life and adjust to another living person breathing beside her, a bed away.

Motels become familiar; Smallville a strange, waning memory.


She calls Clark from Mexico City inside a run down Internet café, the payphone handle sticky in her hands. She watches Davis pace outside the shop with his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense and unsure. He seems lost in the flurry of people moving about their day, eyes sliding between the bodies rushing past.

He is careful not to look to the café.

To her.

Chloe watches him until the line rings in her ear, bright and insistent. There is a small bubble of relief when it goes to voicemail. It’s easiest when she doesn’t have to fight against Clark’s pleadings or Oliver’s sharp disapproval.

“Stop trying to find us,” she says after the beep, voice strong and sure. “I’m safe…we’re safe. Please stop looking. You’re making it worse,” she tells them.

She knows they listen to her messages together. It's easy to imagine them, hunched over Clark’s desk in the bullpen, shoulders pressed together to listen, to formulate their next plan.

“I know what I’m doing. I’ve made my decision,” she tells them, careful to keep the uncertainty she knows they’re looking for from her voice. She hangs up without saying goodbye, afraid of the tremble building in her voice and the doubt leaking through.

The sun is bright, white hot against her eyes when she finds Davis in the street. The stiff line of his shoulders soften when she falls in step beside him, the worry on his brow easing. When he takes her hand in his she flexes her fingers around the rough edges of his skin, feels his gentle squeeze in return and breathes out.


Clark stares at the Metropolis skyline, streets dark below, and waits. Minutes pass before the elevator door dings and slides noiselessly open. He can see Oliver’s distorted reflection in the windows moving towards him.

“Any word?”

“Just another message,” Clark says and turns to face him. Oliver shifts under the intensity of his gaze. “You?”

“They dumped their passports after they crossed the border. They’ll have new ones by now.” He sighs and Clark stiffens as the expression on Oliver’s face shifts. “Chloe’s…Clark, she’s very good at this. Part of her job as Watchtower was getting us fake papers, helping us move through South America and Europe. She has access to people who can help her disappear.”

“We’ll find her. Find them,” Clark says and the blind determination in his voice makes Oliver look away.


Chloe can’t tell if he’s sleeping or not, but his rhythmic breathing is better than the rickety fan that rattles above them. The room is too hot, her skin feels slick with sweat and the mattress is lumpy under her back. She’s a thousand miles away from Smallville and from any comfort or familiarity. She feels alone. Feels scared. Mostly she just feels like crying but Davis is only a few feet away, lying on his own bed.

Her throat burns with her swallowed sobs and she blinks rapidly, tears hot against her skin. After a few seconds when the tightness in her chest dissolves she breathes out in the silence, an unsteady sound that lingers between them. She stares at the shadows playing out on the walls and waits for sleep.

Across the room he shifts, clothes and sheets rustling. “Chloe,” he says, quiet and careful, giving her the chance to pretend she’s asleep. Her answer is noncommittal, a sound low in her throat as she turns over to face him. She can see the edge of his shadow as he sits on the bed. She knows he can see her perfectly in the dark.

“They think I kidnapped you,” he says and for a moment Chloe doesn’t understand. She stares uncomprehending. “The papers…they’re saying I took you, with me. When I disappeared.”

“Lois,” Chloe says, bolts up in the bed. Her hand is halfway to the cheap cell phone before she remembers, struggling with the knowledge that she can’t call her. Not with Clark and Tess looking so closely for them. Not with all they have at stake. She pulls her hands back towards her, cradles them against the light cotton of her pajama bottoms.

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” she says finally and the tremble in her voice betrays the resolve she’s trying to bring to the surface again. Lois probably thinks she’s dead or worse, and Chloe feels herself crumbling under the weight of all the courage and certainty that lead her here. It wasn’t meant to go like this.

“I’m sorry,” Davis says, suddenly beside her. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes into her hair and Chloe holds onto him, fingers tight and fearful. The skin of his bare shoulder is smooth and cool against her fevered skin. Her breath hitches, mouth gulping air as his hands move across her back, gentle and soothing.

“It’s ok,” he lies and Chloe prays for strength.


“You have to tell her,” Oliver says, face soft as he watches Lois sleeping at her desk. She looks pale and worn out under the weight of Chloe’s disappearance.

“I know. I just…I need more time,” Clark says. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t look at Oliver either.

“This is killing her Clark. You have to tell her about Chloe, about the truth and Davis. If you won’t, I will,” he threatens.

“Ok,” Clark says, breathes out, “Ok.”

He’s told her once before about his secret, he can tell her again. It’ll be easier this time. He knows her response and knows she’ll accept him whole and actual. The hand he lays on her shoulder is gentle, hesitant but she wakes instantly, Chloe’s name on her lips before her vision clears and she sighs, disappointed. Her gaze flickers between him and Oliver searching, desperate.

“Any news?”

“Lois,” Clark starts before looking back at Oliver. “I have to tell you something.”


They don’t talk much during the day and even then it’s only for necessity. Davis drives and Chloe sleeps. Days and counties blend into each other, her whole world boils down to sleeping and eating, moving from the car to another bed. Davis never asks her drive, never gets sleepy or tired but each night he lays down on the other bed in their hotel room, closes his eyes and doesn’t move until the next morning.


Clark looks at Lois, face flushed but alive, the line of her back sharp as she bends over the map and talks quietly into her phone. She’s writing something down, her words quick and short. After a moment she snaps the phone shut, carefully placing another push pin into the map. “They’re in Columbia,” she announces and the hope simmering in her eyes is enough to renew the straggling optimism inside Clark. It’s been almost a month without word from Chloe or any of Oliver’s sources.

“One of my contacts said someone matching their description passed through one of the border check points about an hour ago. “

“The jets ready,” Oliver tells them.

“It’s faster if I go on my own,” Clark says. “I’ll bring her back safe,” he promises Lois.

“You better,” she threatens but it’s only a halfhearted warning and the smile she gives him is forced, laden with worry.


Chloe dreams about Clark, body lain broken and bloody, at her feet like a prize. The snow is red and Doom looms over her, face a horrible mask of rage. She wakes up to Davis’s face, his hands on her shoulder, shaking her into consciousness. The tendons on his neck strain against his skin and, even in the dark, she can see the red tinge to his eyes.

“He’s close,” Davis chokes out and Chloe’s up in an instant, throwing their belongings into their bags and rushing out after Davis. She’s still in her pajamas when they get into the car, barefoot.


“She’s never going to give up, you now that, right?” Oliver asks and for a moment Clark isn’t sure if he’s talking about Lois or Chloe. “Maybe,” Oliver starts, hesitantly, “you should just let her go. She doesn’t want to be rescued.”

“I can’t,” Clark says desperately. He’s lost so much over the years but he can’t lose Chloe. She’s been his only constant, the one fixed point in his life.

“You have other responsibilities,” Oliver cuts in, surprised by the edge in his own voice. “Metropolis is falling apart under your struggle and Lois needs you to be strong. I’ll keep looking but you need to pull it together. You need to be the man Lois thinks you are.”

“I know,” Clark says, but he isn’t looking at Oliver. He’s starring at the sunset, left wondering if Chloe’s watching the same one, a thousand miles away, hoping she’s safe and praying Oliver is right.


Tess’s men catch up to them in Peru. Chloe is alone, unprepared and out-numbered. She’s on her knees, mouth bloody when she hears the men behind her scream. Chloe knows without looking that Davis has come for her, despite her plea for him not to. There is nothing she can do now and it grates, this helpless. It is all she can do to wait, eyes closed until the sound of men dying fades and there is only the stillness of the night.

When she opens her eyes it takes every part of her not to pull away from the creature in front of her. The thing extends its hand towards her, the first real human gesture Chloe has seen. She accepts numbly and allows herself to be pulled up from the dirty floor, guided away. She does not struggle, just concentrates on the gentle pressure of jagged bones and flesh pressing against her palm. The careful way it holds her hand.

When they stop at the mouth of the alley she feels it shudder beside her, skin and bones shifting, melting away. When she looks again it’s just Davis before her, alive but bloody. Human. His eyes are vast, endless with guilt and shame. Chloe feels the beast stirring inside his fragile human chest even now, waiting. It does this for her, gives her Davis, broken and empty, a shell of himself because it is easier.

“Chloe,” he breathes, and she turns away from him. “I didn’t,” he starts and she closes her eyes against the images of the torn bodies behind them in the dirty alley. She doesn’t want to remember this, remember him changing and shifting under the need to protect them, but the images feel like they’re seared against the underside of her eyelids.

“We have to- we have to go,” she tells him thickly, swallowing down the hysteria she feels building.

The hand he rests against her jaw is sticky with blood but firm. “Look at me,” he says and when she does his lips are soft on hers, eyes wide and warm. Her mouth yields under the pressure, opens up to him. He delves deep, desperation cloying the taste of him. She feels the slick underside of his mouth against her tongue and the beast shifting, yowling inside its human prison.

“Tell me to stop,” he says and the desperation in his voice stills her long enough to let him kiss her again. She pushes against his naked chest, his skin slick with blood and sweat but her hands fall away, ghosting over him. He slips a knee between her legs and shoves them apart. She falls forward into him and he grunts, rubs his thigh against her.

“Not here,” she says and he breaks away from her, breathing labored and the expression on his face pained. “We have to leave, Clark-”

“Clark,” Davis repeats, voice dark. He shakes himself, shoulders stiff and jaw clenched. After a moment he relaxes into her and she gives him this moment, to hold her against him and breathe her in. To remember why he’s running.

“Come on,” she says finally, hand settling in his for the walk back to the hotel room, to the stolen jeep and their journey farther south.

burdens of lace

Reccing Notes: Watching Bride was akin to watching an execution to me. Straight off of Abyss, a mind-wiped Chloe goes through the motions of being happy and her whole self...right about until the time Doomsday crashes in on the wedding.

At a few points in the episode, (Chloe's conversation with Lois) I actually had to pause because she looked so decidedly UNhappy. So pausing there, right at the wedding, I wondered what would happen if Chloe knew something was wrong. Who would she go to for help?

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal
1269 words, nc-17, bride

"I’m not right.”

Chloe hedged into the room the wedding guests were just starting to fill. Ahead of her were her best friend, Lois, Jimmy laughing loudly at a dirty joke... As she walked, the garter scratched into her thigh like some primitive claim of ownership. Jimmy’s, who wanted to be the one and only and hadn’t cared enough to call after he’d taken her virginity. She didn’t feel any warm prickle inside her at the thought that he’d be attempting to yank the garter off with his teeth after the reception. This felt like a parody, an inversion of what you heard you were supposed to do with your life. She felt dry, her legs creaking under her. It felt like she was losing the rest of her life, not starting it.

“No.” She whispered, trying the word out. Clark’s eyes zeroed in on her eerily. He looked suspicious and alarmed, though he couldn’t have heard. It seemed all wrong somehow, how invested he was in her marriage, when he had been such a small part of her life. Why was she doing this? Her memories were skewed, like her mother’s had been. It felt like something was taking control of her, something, and that was schizophrenia right there. The panic turned to a knot inside her and she was running from the uproar building behind her. Each of her steps felt lighter.

At her apartment, Chloe upended her private drawers, places Jimmy never thought to look. She drew soft fingers over a pile of computer print outs. Interviews, foster homes records, apartment leases…That was all she’d found on Davis Bloome, the heat of tension flipping dully under her skin. He’d called her three times and then he’d stopped.

It would have been wrong to answer: what kind of bride nursed such a fascination with another man? She had been a reporter who chased around stories that never came to fruition, but it seemed like she’d found it in Davis. They’d never done anything whatsoever, not until that one kiss. She’d rattled around the flower shop afterwards, desperate for his the light, fleeting touch back, wondering if… She couldn’t even remember what she’d been wondering.

Chloe jumped at the quick knock at her door, five minutes before her wedding had been supposed to happen. She recognized the knock and the door was open before she realized she was moving. She stood there, naked at the shoulders, stripped bare. Davis. Her breaths didn’t want to come.

His eyes lingered where the veil had fallen out of her fingers. “I’m sorry.” He said. He was in street clothes, but that didn’t hide the hero he wanted to be or the way his eyes clung to her, hurting. “I didn’t come to stalk you. I almost blacked out, tonight. I saw your car. I thought it might help me make peace…”

“I couldn’t marry him.” She blurted out. “I don’t think that’s who I am.” She giggled, haplessly. “Marrying Jimmy wasn’t right. I’m not right.”

Davis’s dark eyes flickered in relief and worry. “Chloe…”

“Please don’t leave.” She was in his arms, pressed against his chest, and the heat of him trickled over her shoulders and underneath her skin. The door latched behind his fingers, and when she lifted her mouth to brush his he held her to him for the longest time.

Chloe had been losing so much time. Davis wouldn’t be one of those minutes and hours she lost. She needed his memory filling her head, and he was filling her until she thought she could burst of the heat of it. Davis pushed inside her on what could have been her marriage bed; moving with increasing friction inside her, until her knuckles went white and tight over the garter he’d lowered into them. He soothed at the ringed mark it had left on her thigh, but he was so much. She couldn’t remember enough of this. Chloe flinched and bit until she tasted the blood blooming over the inside of her cheek.

She’d panted through Davis’s soft questions and touches, clutched at his fingers like she used to dream she had done. He confessed that his skin shattered knives, a fact that made little sense about her life in context- but it brought together one piece of the scrambled puzzle. She’d always had this feeling she would love him.
Her fingers prickled in nerves but the line of his cheekbone didn’t feel invulnerable. She’d seen it shift and soften. Davis drew her palm over his face, turned soft questing lips into it. He’d loved her through his fears about himself, through her fractured memories, through her flight and near wedding to another man. He was only human and she needed him.

“Nothing in my life makes sense anymore, and I now don’t want anything but you. I don’t know if it’s a connection between us-” Yet the feelings were like a solid, tangible thing that stirred all over her skin.

“I’ll lead you back.” He said, like the multiple times he had taken care of her. Davis’s protectiveness was written on his face, softened behind his lips and her naïve fingers. There was a desire in his eyes that had nothing to do with the fact that she was clinging to him in a dress she’d half wrenched off.

He’d kissed her shoulders around the beading of the gown, and scoured tender sucks under her throat. He was paying attention to her pleasure but that wasn’t enough. Being with Davis was falling into an increasingly deep spiral that demanded contact and movement and his hands crumpling her skirt around her waist. She rubbed up into his palm until he began to ease in and out of her body. He gave her a chance to decide what she wanted, and she edged her fingertips to his shoulders and reeled him in. He stopped controlling himself long enough to fall onto her with a series of agonized, electrifying thrusts. They evened out, slicker and deeper, but each time flickered though her face and broke her into a deeper sweat.

Chloe kissed Davis unevenly, softly fumbling for his back. She had never known good. A terrible deep feeling swelled inside her and arched her back wrackingly into the bed. His cock rubbed so thickly inside there was no nudging him where she needed, just feeling him everywhere at once as her muscles stung and burned and clutched at the throbbing slick heat of him. He swayed her neck back to nip. She was pleasure-addled and pliant. Her legs folded underneath her, and he came down on her, jerking.

She couldn’t see enough of Davis. He shook in a torture of exhaled breaths, soaking and burning under her skin. She dragged against him softly, feeling him twitch and wring out inside her, his face twisting in tender ecstasy. She hadn’t expected the passion between them to come this far.
Davis rubbed his nose against her cheek, shakily cuddling her against him. He was heavy and more human than she’d ever seen him. There was a small hard part in her that needed to keep him protected and safe. Chloe wrapped arms around his waist and squeezed. Her eyes met his, sticky and longing and he stumbled over her massive, torn bridal train to lift her free.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

davis bloome versus the pickle jar

Reccing Notes: Stories with Lois are the most fun to read, just because she's as blatantly obvious about the eye fornication as we are. Pitch perfect Lois voice, and some cute/hot/messy Chlavis in a compromising situation. Of sorts.

by kitten/nonky at defying mythos
1860 words, nc-17(for lois's potty mouth), plastique/alternate universe

Lois had only found out when they were leaving that she was the third wheel on the bicycle built for two people fucking.
The little house in the outskirts of a farm town seemed quiet. Everything was clean, if not perfectly tidy. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't without flaws, but it was a real home. Lois knew it well, and knew the otherness of her Uncle Gabe's house was completely unnatural.

Well, Chloe didn't used to bang guys in the house in high school, the brunette thought acidly. The incipient porn vibes are bound to make any place strange.

Lois approached with caution, sure her cousin and the hot paramedic - who was not her cousin's boyfriend but followed her everywhere – were fucking in her Uncle Gabe's kitchen. Uncle Gabe was not at home, having received a work trip only hours before the weekend Chloe, Lois, Davis and Clark were supposed to visit. It was a sign, surely. A sign Lois would have heeded had she known before they were three quarters of the way to their destination.

It started out a family trip, the two cousins going back to Smallville to visit Chloe's father. The blond mentioned it to Davis, who found himself suddenly at loose ends that same weekend, and dying to meet 'the man who raised the legendary Chloe Sullivan.' He had done everything but make a sign asking to be invited.

Including Clark had been Chloe's idea, so as to further prove the notion that Davis was just a friend like Clark was – though their mutual stalking and eyesex would forever exhibit them as bad liars. Clark had decided at the last minute not to lose his weekend at work, and given his apologies to Chloe over the phone. Lois had only found out when they were leaving that she was the third wheel on the bicycle built for two people fucking.

From the way Davis' eyes scorched Chloe's skirt off when she bent to put her suitcase in the trunk, they did it hard enough to for protective gear to be advisable. Little cousin could claim chastity all she wanted, but Davis Bloome opened her car door, untangled her seat belt for her, and sang on the drive. He turned in his seat, gazed at her blond head, and serenaded her sweetly to every song that came on for a full hour. He actually sang quite well, but that wasn't the point. Chloe giggled at him, and turned pink in the face, but she also didn't stop him. Lois felt like she was going to have to dive under the car to avoid being part of the action.

They pulled up to an empty driveway, and Lois was peacefully informed it was just the three of them, as if it wasn't the bell tolling doom for her cool, relaxed weekend. She was going to have to watch every moment for the signals that preceded bouts of denial-fueled lovey-dovey crap. She would have to figure out whether Chloe was giving her the 'privacy, please' glance or the 'save me from his over-eager gonads' glance. At least there was a grace period after arrival, in which it would just look pathetically needy for Davis to feel up the tiny blond he doted upon.

He was doing a pretty good job hiding his erection as he moved luggage and accepted caressing help out of his jacket. Lois decided they were safe for the moment.

She immediately asked for the car keys and went on a liquor store run that took at least three hours. She had visited every old haunt in Smallville, and bought a variety of fudge flavours she was considering sharing if the visit wasn't too awkward.

She had been delighted to realize Smallville Video still had her on file, and rented four slasher movies. Chloe could try canoodling to those, but she wasn't the fawning, eye-covering chick. Usually, she would lean over and mention something like how a chainsaw could never start up that easily after being submerged in water, or how flares just did not give off enough light to illuminate an underground cathedral buried by mudslides. Lois was armed with everything she knew to make the awkward moments smoother, so she had no choice but to go back to the house.

There were indeterminate noises coming from the kitchen, and then a sharp shattering of glass.

“OH!” Chloe's voice, sounding choked and pained. “Davis, it's in my eye!”

“Damn it,” he replied, sounding contrite and a little dazed. “I'm sorry. Here, just get to the sink.”

Lois shook her head and clutched her booze and horror movies. Trust Chloe to find a nice guy and still get hurt. Davis was even a paramedic, so he should know better. He'd seen horrific childbirth up close and personal, and the ugly effects of STDs. Lois had given him the benefit of the doubt, knowing he and Chloe had to be safe because anything else would just be stupid. Apparently, Davis was going to need those death threats after all. She put her weekend survival kit down gently.

“Jeez, Dimples,” she said loudly, kicking the kitchen door open. “If a lady gives you the personal touch, the least you can do is aim.”

She fixed her eyes on the details, trying to ignore any nudity and gross fluids. Everything was dripping with an intense, briny smell. He had her baby cousin bent over the sink, but they were both clothed. If anything, it looked like Chloe and Davis were re-enacting 9 ½ Weeks, or perhaps making sandwiches.

“Lois, don't pick on him,” her infirm relative pleaded from her upside down look under the kitchen faucet. “I asked Davis to open the pickle jar.”

There was a metal cover on the floor, the green colour signifying its contents. It wasn't the worst cover-up Lois had ever witnessed. It did need some polish to be believable, though.

“I'll just bet you did! Who could blame you, but you have to have standards here, Chloe! It really doesn't matter how he blinds you – the point is – Blind!”

Bits of bottle crunched underfoot as Lois barged in to get a better idea of Chloe's wounds. She wasn't bleeding anywhere. She was even still in her bra. Davis held her in a loose embrace, his hands sturdy and gentle.

“I'm so sorry, Chloe,” he was saying, stroking her hair as water dribbled across her eyes. “I'm pretty sure there's no glass in there, but we should go to the hospital to check.”

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” the patient said, directing the first to her cousin and then repeating it more sexfully for her personal paramedic. “Davis, you don't have to be sorry, it was an accident. The pickle juice was just full of vinegar, but I'm okay now.”

She stood up slowly, and he picked her up to perch on the counter. Pressing himself between her knees, Davis held Chloe's face. His thumbs ran unconsciously along her cheekbones and he was breathing soothing words across her mouth as she let him study her sore eyes. If Lois was measuring generously, she might agree there was an inch of space between Davis' pouty lips reciting incantations of atonement and Chloe's soothing smile.

“Whoa, boy! You've got some medical intensity there, Davis, I'll give you that. Chloe, on a scale of that time with the cherry bomb to that time with the back window at the rave club, how bad is it?”

Down around Davis' trim waist, Chloe's knees pressed protectively closer to his sides. She rubbed his shoulder and barely made the pretext of noticing anyone but Davis existed.

“It's not stinging anymore, nothing hurts. My eyes are just freaked out,” Chloe said sincerely. “Really, Davis, I'm okay. I'm okay, Lois, and none of this is his fault.”

And she stroked his head like a puppy, making his whole body shift toward her hand in needy charm. Lois sighed at the identical blissfully helpless expressions on her cousin and her cousin's boyfriend.

“It's so gross in here,” she muttered to herself. “DIMPLES!”

He barely flicked his eyes away from Chloe's green ones, and went back into her loving gaze without prompting. If not for the height of the counter, Davis might actually be in Chloe. Lois clapped her hands to get his attention.

“You're not one of those uber-Catholics who won't use condoms and birth control, are you? You don't think Xs on a calendar keep babies away?”

“Lois,” Chloe yelped. She cupped the back of his neck as if he were a baby woodland creature instead of a potential big bad wolf. “That's a really personal question.”

The impersonal questions don't get the important information, Lois tried to eye-beam to her. I'm vetting his penis for landing for you!

Turning slowly, so Chloe's hands didn't fall off his shoulders, Davis faced her proudly. “I use both, because it's a good idea and if you care about someone enough to have sex you should show that by taking care of that person. I'm clean. I get tested regularly because sometimes I get called to pretty messy scenes. Blood gets on you eventually; it just happens in my line of work. Never married, no kids, GED, two-year paramedicine program, decent grades but I've never claimed to be a genius. I used to run with a gang, when I was living on the street, but that was years ago. I was arrested once, for grafitti. I don't smoke, drink or do drugs. I don't date more than one woman at a time. I work a lot, I try to keep my savings for a rainy day. I am interested in marriage and kids, eventually. Anything else?”

Over his shoulder, Chloe's smug grin was topped with a little dance of her upper body. Lois scowled and leaned in to intimidate him. “How's your driving record,” she challenged. “Do you pay your taxes on time?”

“Clear, and my insurance is up to date. I never speed, and I always signal,” he supplied calmly. “I pay my taxes on time every year.”

Stalky Davis must have done his homework to impress Uncle Gabe, she thought cynically. Well, I'll keep my eye on him anyway.

“Good. Now, move out of the way,” Lois said sternly. She nudged his body from the snuggly hold on Chloe.

“She's not wearing shoes and there's glass all over-”

Bracing, Lois took her cousin's arms and draped her in a fireman's carry. It was tricky for a second, then the blond settled down.


“Clean up the kitchen, Dimples. I'll take care of our girl, here,” she ordered.

He stood back and watched in wonder as the taller young woman displayed an unusual amount of strength. Chloe waved meekly as she was carried off. He shook his head slowly, awed by Chloe's cousin, in the truest sense. Lois frightened and amazed him, and he was going to have to hide his emerging powers a lot better to fool her. The next time Chloe couldn't open a jar, she was going to have to work it out herself.

At the very least, Davis didn't want to dodge leading questions about being an alien invader for the rest of his life.

truth serum

Reccing Notes: Just how much did Chloe's braniac powers play into her surviving the electro shock machine machine in Committed? Chloe tries to find an answer to the psychotic jeweler's question and finds she's engaged, dizzy and at Davis's door.

by vagrantdream at defying mythos
754 words, pg-13, committed

Lois told her she needed a drink. She had a couple, a warm grounding buzz through her belly jangling with the unbearable heat all over her skin. It was starting to be clear to her. She couldn't move out of this phase of hers without knowing. He wanted her, maybe unlike anyone. Maybe he was just....

"Do you have feelings for another man? I repeat, Miss Sullivan, do you have feelings for another man?"

Chloe knew that electroshock restraints on her wrists to match the lie detector were illegal cohersion, Yet, for the split moment before her new powers had crashed the device she'd thought about it. Jimmy looked grateful, but she wasn't thinking of him.

Blurred images of close cropped brown hair, a full mouth turning up in quickly covered-up dismay. He'd been inches from moving into her personal space, spilling memories of his childhood to her mere hours after they'd met. She was unavailable, but he'd been willing to risk his job for her.

Chloe wondered if he'd taste warm and minty like Clark, or like Jimmy's bubblegum, or like something more quintessentially him that she could never forget. She'd thought about being able to brush a hand across that dress uniform of his or his how hw might have touched her with shame and picket fences and mortgages weighing on her mind.

She'd thought about it and now she couldn't stop. Lois told her she needed a drink. She had a couple, a warm grounding buzz through her belly jangling with the unbearable heat all over her skin. It was starting to be clear to her. She couldn't move out of this phase of hers without knowing. He wanted her, maybe unlike anyone. Maybe he was just....

It was too late for doing this with any claim to innocence, but her hand was on the door, and thumping before she could turn and run away. The door pulled open with a sudden swing, and she couldn't see more than a tall, defined glow of blinding skin. "I want to be around you." She choked.

She had a moment of his eyes, crinkling at the red dress in confusion and her legs feeling very strange. Before she knew it Davis's hands were up on her elbows, holding her up. "Chloe. You're burning up, how did you find me--"

"It wasn't difficult." Davis had a tidy locker, and a couple of suddenly helpful ambulance partners. "I was thinking about what you said. Only now, I think you might have to kick my ass."

He let her go with loosening fingers and Chloe realized that it wasn't because he thought she was any steadier. Davis backed up in pajama bottoms and nothing else, not like he was embarrassed, but like he was courteous enough to want to dress for her. He was getting to far away. Chloe tottered forward, pressed a hand flat onto his chest. His shoulders tightened and shivered long enough for her mouth to knock into his.
He tasted like she supposed a guy would taste after you assaulted him in the middle of the night. Toothpaste, hints of sleep and saliva and something earthy. His lips were soft but full enough, rough enough that they didn't give under hers.
He couldn't get a word in if he tried, but his fingers clutched into her hips and drew her against his body. She could feel him through the flimsy fabric of her dress. His palm curved into her neck and he pulled his mouth away. She was so warm.

"What did you have?" he rasped.

"Truth serum doesn't exist, you know. I just looked at the rest and I don't know if it's worth holding onto."

His eyes were dark, shining, when he pulled away from her shoulder.
"I want you right now. I can't say I'll be brave enough tomorrow." Her legs had reached up to strangle his waist, and she could almost feel the friction burn of him moving, the wall scraping holes in her dress.

Davis palmed her shoulder, let her down. "Please." He had to give her something, something to tell her she wasn't an engaged idiot who'd just thrown herself at another man. His arms around her were a slow lulling heat, but she fought the release. There was hunger enough that his lips strained into her space.

"I've never felt the way I feel about you. But I'm not going to let it happen this way. You're going to want to talk about this." he said carefully. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not rejecting you. I want to be able to keep you."

Chloe woke up at six A.M., stomach wanting to heave, and found that there was a bucket by the side of the bed, and two of his arms and legs were slung over hers.


Reccing Notes:Only one of the several vampire! Davis fics I'll be writing. Oh Sam Witwer as Aiden on Being Human, I wonder why?
Chloe has her way of stalking stories and vigilante vampires.

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal
1031 words, pg-13, alternate universe

He was going to eat the man for the price of her press pass. It would have been satisfying if she wasn’t perfectly aware that she was a happy meal too.

Chloe watched the vampire stalk behind the purse-snatcher. Davis Bloome, paramedic by day, fiend by night. Always took the night shifts, had an unearthly physique, distaste for coffee, duct tape over the binds of his windows, quick reactions and an uncanny amount of awards for saving lives. Not to mention, his eyes ate her when she helped him with that oxygen tank.

He wasn’t turned so she could see his eyes, but dressed in the kind of flimsy thin shirt you imagined went out with Marlon Brando. Chloe watched the impermeable shift of muscles under the thin cloth, immobile. If the utter silence thing didn’t work out he could win on awe.

The man he was stalking didn’t hear him, but he started to run. He probably felt the chill. The vampire threw his head forward, a lion chasing a gazelle; he was going to eat the man for the price of her press pass. It would have been satisfying if she wasn’t perfectly aware that she was a happy meal too.

The victim slammed and crashed against the garbage can. Chloe tried not to jump at the click and muffled noise against the wall. She could nearly hear the gurgle of his blood, but that wasn’t her problem; he wasn’t the nicest guy. The garlic itched in her bra; it would be enough to weaken Davis until she could talk some sense into him. He was taking crime off the streets, but drinking the criminal wouldn’t make a positive change long term, unless it happened to be Lionel.

He was coming to her; she could hear him breathing in the air, see her purse in his long fingers. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, looked through slitted eyes. He could smell her. That was the point of jumping in front of that car, impregnating her scent with the formaldehyde and dead flesh from the morgue and then falling on the sidewalk with her purse in plain sight in the Suicide Slums. He stood above her, crouching before she realized he’d moved. He was looking at her press pass. He reached out with a cool hand, lifted her off of the road and onto the sidewalk and he didn’t seize up, already. Her lungs hurt.

Chloe noticed that of all things that he was particularly attractive, probably not all shriveled like a prune because he drank so many thieves. He had a dimple in his chin, a slim red line of blood dripping down the neck of his shirt...right against her skin as he drew close and curious. His lips were very red and probably cool if she tried to touch them... Chloe snuck in the lightest inhale, soundless.

Dizzy, she felt his nose, cool and light, tracing down the side of her neck and into her collarbone. He was taking her scent and Chloe bit the shudder down; dead women didn’t do that.

“You don’t smell dead.” He said quietly. He didn’t prod her, but Chloe felt her eyes flutter open slowly.

“I have low blood sugar…”

Davis cocked his head. A feral, sniffing vampire knew she was alive, and trying to fool him. Clearly there were only two options, her hero speech required she not be at the disadvantage. Chloe promptly latched onto his mouth, tasting the bloody tang of about five unsavory characters. His mouth stiffened, shock but grazed her back.

Davis pulled her legs out of his lap for balance, eyes narrowing like bright light was shining into his eyes. He had cool, soft lips though and she didn’t feel anything very sharp when her tongue was in his mouth. A cold finger skimmed down her face, and his lips parted.

His fingers skimmed along her cold, goose-bumped knees. Maybe the bloodlust that meant that vampires did it in a pile of dead bodies. This was bad; this was not things were done…His hands closed under her knees, and Chloe started to think she was rather open-minded. Davis had slipped his hands under her and started to carry her. Maybe she should have kneed him in the nose instead of kissing. He was going to haul her back into his coffin or closet or freezer and make her into a shrieking vampire wife.

Chloe jostled her leg free in a mad panic, getting her hands tangled in his shirt. She had a tazer strapped to her thigh, just about where his hands were. “Where are you taking me?”

“Back to your apartment. It’s not safe here.”

“Hey-look-My apartm-You’re stalking me!”

“You left your cell phone at my apartment. I made a call; Lois guessed my name. Chloe-you could have said so. What do you think about stalking?”

It was better she didn’t answer that. Davis watched her and swung his other hand down for her downed purse, holding to her with one arm. Chloe dug her fingers into his back like small claws, just in case he wasn’t used to this sort of this thing.

His nose pressed against her neck. Davis inhaled deeply. He was a vampire and he was going to drink her all up. She couldn’t find them but he had sharp teeth. Chloe remembered to think of mud and gray corpses… Davis lying on a slab all white and hard…

“So you weren’t going to sneak in and take advantage of me some night?” She wavered.

Davis opened his eyes and blinked at her. They seemed to get softer and deeper the longer they talked.

“Actually, I need you to invite me in, first.”

Oh-okay. He ate people! Chloe clamped her hands down on her mouth and stared. He looked ravenous.

Her fingers just crept, like Renfield and trickled down to his lips. He was pressing against her. Come to think of it, he felt a little bit like marble.

Davis's meal was groaning and lurching around on the floor when he lifted her up, tucking her like a small, groping bundle against him. Chloe was a little bit sorry that Clark would have a hell of a headache tomorrow morning.

baby foster

Reccing Notes: After the drama and horror of Doomsday have faded, Chloe and Davis find themselves taking one more step towards a life together as her pregnancy test comes out positive. Wonderful callbacks to Plastique, with the influence of Davis's foster-kid upbringing and Chloe's baby-crazy hormones.
Read it and tell me you don't get warm fuzzies. I dare you.

by sarcastic_fina at defying mythos
1962 words, pg-13, future fic

Bravado cracking, his smile faded and he nodded slowly. "I want to be everything you see in me."
Positive. Positive. Positive.

Just like the other six pregnancy tests she'd taken the time to pee on.

Eyes wide, Chloe stared at the three latest lined up on the coffee table in front of her. Pregnant. She was pregnant. As in, there was a small human growing inside her stomach. Her hand fell automatically, palm splayed across her still flat navel. Gulping, she sat back into the couch, her shoulders slumping. This was… not part of the grand scheme of things. Or, okay, it might have been. Years and years into the future. But now? Now she was on the run with Davis Bloome; a former serial killer separated from the alien part of him that wanted and needed blood.

Not for the first time, she questioned how her life had turned out this way. One minute she was just a curious teenage reporter, the next she had and lost her chance at the Daily Planet. And then there was sweet, naïve, normal Jimmy, who didn't fit into her life like she'd hoped he would. Not when she was playing superhero go-to-girl behind his back. And when it all fizzled apart because of the build-up of lies, not to mention her involvement with Davis, she was both distraught and relieved.

Normal was not part of Chloe Sullivan's make-up. If anything, it was the one main ingredient she was severely lacking. And after she'd used black kryptonite to separate Doomsday from the man she knew deep down was good, they ran… Away from all that threatened to separate them. Did she miss Clark? Lois? The team? Of course. But they wouldn't understand. They couldn't.

What she felt for Davis was beyond them; it was a physical and emotional connection she'd never known the likes of before. How he made her feel just by looking at her, that smile of his with dimples that spoke of such affection… She felt loved when she was with Davis. Prized and wanted; always.

So she should be happy, really. After four years on the run, they'd settled down in a nice town. Easily overlooked by most people; just a tiny little place that was often passed by without a second glance. She'd always thought herself a city girl, but it turned out so long as the rewards were in the guise of a good man who wanted to spend his whole life loving her, she'd go wherever, do whatever.

And after all their running, finally settling down in a place where the biggest news was who the new Deputy Sheriff would be was like finding normal and fitting in. Especially when all of her hacking paid off and she was able to create new and acceptable identities for them. She knew the truth, however, even if her neighbors never suspected a thing. They looked at Chloe and Davis Foster as if they were just regular people, out to make a living and enjoy their lives as they came. They had no idea that he once killed people with his bare hands; that he'd once had an evil in him that could destroy the very world.

When they looked at Davis, they saw a mild-mannered, handsome and charming man who worked at the local firehouse and lent his heroics to the small town whenever they needed. They might gossip over them, but it was hardly anything to make the hairs on Chloe's neck stand up or her spidey-sense kick in, telling them to run. Most of the word going around had to do with her and Davis being that sweet, affectionate couple that could hardly keep their hands off each other. And wasn't that exactly how they got into this position?


Biting her lip, she leaned forward once more to see the tests, wanting to make sure this wasn't a very unsubstantiated hallucination. And just to be extra sure, she pinched her self. Wincing, she rubbed her arm when nothing happened except a little biting pain. So it was true then, there was no getting away from it. She and Davis were pregnant; they were going to have a baby. A… She smiled suddenly. A baby.

She could fully appreciate skepticism. It wasn't as if she grew up with a great mother-figure. Moira had gone away and confined both herself and her abilities long before Chloe could truly get a grasp of what motherhood might be like. But then, she did have Martha Kent's influence, and if that wasn't the best mother alive, she didn't know who was. But seeing was not knowing and so it was with both anticipation and fear that she opened her laptop, ready to accept her current situation and study it to death. She would not walk into this blind.

Four hours.

She spent four hours on her laptop, researching everything from symptoms to techniques in helping her child learn early, to give him or her a better chance at being a small brain. The only time she removed herself from the computer was to toss away every coffee related grocery she had in the house in a fit of motherly support. Later she'd regret it and think herself baby-crazy, but at the time it seemed a smart thing to do.

Chloe hardly looked up when the door opened and Davis walked in, tossing the keys to their beat-up blue Ford truck on the counter and shrugging his jacket off. He'd been at the firehouse overnight and usually when he returned home, she'd have had dinner ready for them or she'd have jumped into his arms, happy to see him home and eager to get him back into their room. But she was distracted today and busy, so she didn't look up from her laptop when he stepped into the living room of their small, rent-to-own house.

"Uh, Chloe…?" he greeted her, eyes darting all around.

She waved a hand absently, brows furrowed atop her eyes staring at her laptop searchingly. She'd been reading up on breast-feeding and was both curious and uncomfortable. She'd have to get over these things, and soon, but she figured she was allowed her immediate response in the beginning. She was sure when their son or daughter was put in her arms, she'd change her mind. There was always the option of formula, but from what she'd read it wasn't as healthy for the baby. Chewing her lip, she knew that even while she didn't technically know their child and she'd only just realized she was having one, she wanted the very best for him or her.

Suddenly, Davis was kneeling next to her, one of his large hands on her knee. "You wanna tell me something?" he asked, though the smile on his face was knowing.

Attention caught, she turned toward him, not sure how she was even going to word it. Only to see he was holding one of her many pregnancy tests.

"Guess it kind of speaks for itself," she murmured, frowning.

He lifted a brow, mouth curling with a smile. "That it does." He stared up at her thoughtfully. "But I think I'd like to hear it from you."

She didn't know why, but her eyes suddenly filled with warm tears. "I'm… We're…" A breathy laugh escaped her. "Guess all that hard work paid off, because we're going to have a little piece of ourselves around here in, oh… seven or so months."

She couldn't help but stare at him worriedly. While they'd talked of children at length, his biggest fear was always that somehow, some part of Doomsday might transfer over. So they'd been careful, really, on the occasions when they had enough sense to do so. And yes, she'd of course gone on the pill, but… Sometimes, life was just so hectic, and if she missed a few, she didn't even notice until it was too late. Given the nine pregnancy tests currently reading positive, she'd have to say it was definitely too late.

"Seven months," he repeated, eyes falling down for a moment. "Guess I should brush up on my handyman skills and get to work on baby-proofing everything… building a crib. You think they'd let us add on a bedroom?" he wondered, brows furrowed.

"Davis…" She stared at him. "Shouldn't you be freaking out?"

He chuckled shortly, grinning. "I think freaking out now would be a little late." He nodded, rising to sit down next to her. "So… we're having a baby…" He moved her laptop to the table and turned so he was facing her. "A baby we didn't expect and I seem to remember avoiding." He smiled. "But, honestly… Having a child with you is not world-ending… If anything, it's a jumpstart to our world…" He stared into her eyes searchingly. "So yeah, I'm terrified. That we'll need to stock up on black kryptonite or that I will suck horribly at being a father, but…" His hand cupped her stomach, palm pressed close and thumb stroking. "This is our family… And I will do whatever it takes to make sure they know we love them."

Breath shaking as it escaped her, she covered his hand with hers. "So we're doing this… We're going to be parents?" Eyes damp with tears, she looked up at him and grinned. "You are going to be an incredible dad."

He scoffed lightly. "I've only ever had really awful foster parents, but… I think if I do the opposite of everything they did, this little guy or girl will have a much better chance."

Squeezing his hand, she reached up to cup his face. "Trust me, I know you. Davis…" She smiled sweetly. "There is nobody else in the world that I would want this baby with. Nobody else that would be a better dad."

Bravado cracking, his smile faded and he nodded slowly. "I want to be everything you see in me."

Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to his. "You already are."

Hand smoothing through her hair, he turned his head just slightly and slanted his mouth across hers. Smooth, warm lips met in a tender kiss that soon quickened into a passion filled embrace. Dragging her into his lap, his arms wrapped tight around her; corded muscle banding around her body. Dragging her fingers through his hair, she met his furiously reaching mouth with her own, panting thickly. As his face buried in her neck, lips and teeth marking down her neck, she threw her head back and moaned. "This is how we got here in the first place," she muttered.

He chuckled. "I'm not complaining."

Gripping his shoulders tight, she couldn't say she was either.

In seven months, they would have a baby to call their own. The complications that might arise were unseen for now, but they could be many. Or, if Fate was feeling kind, they would get that one piece of normalcy they both deserved and their child would be an average little boy or girl that grew up under the watchful and loving eyes of two people who only wanted the best for them. Future unknown, the Fosters could only hope.

"I love you," Davis murmured against her throat, his voice hoarse and deep with truth. As his large, warm hand enveloped her stomach, he repeated the same sentiment to their unborn child, and both Chloe Sullivan and Chloe Foster felt their chest bloom with warmth.

How did she get so lucky? she wondered. Through all this, all that had happened, all that they'd run from, their lives were finally coming together in the most incredible way.

"We love you, too," she replied against his ear, closing her eyes and just holding him a moment. It was just the two of them now, but soon it would be three, and she couldn't wait.