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.

“Lois!”

“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.

on the care and feeding of ultimate destroyers

Reccing Notes: Eheh. proactive Davis. ^-^ Chloe hardly knows what hit her. The most sensible way for things to go. You will be grinning ear to ear. Did I mention the Labyrinth references? She's got genius, I say.

by seriousfic at her lj.
2,082 words. pg-13. stiletto

As far as romantic rivals went, he wasn’t addicted to painkillers like Jimmy or ambiguously gay like Clark.

It took him a couple days of watching daytime TV in Chloe’s basement, but Davis started to come to terms with being a space monster. It was like Dr. Phil said. He had to accept the things he couldn’t change, the courage to change the things he could, and the wisdom to know the difference. Davis was pretty sure being a space monster was the first thing. And hey, he was the best space monster out there. The Ultimate Destroyer. That was worth something.

What he really needed to do was accentuate the positive. Sure, he was living in a basement, but it was Chloe’s basement. As far as romantic rivals went, he wasn’t addicted to painkillers like Jimmy or ambiguously gay like Clark. He and Chloe lived together, talked infrequently, and didn’t have sex… it was almost like a loveless marriage! And Maury had a lot to say about loveless marriages.

Well, the first step to putting the fire back in (or rather in for the first time) their relationship was to shake things up! For too long he’d let Chloe cook his food, do his laundry, and dispose of his dead bodies. It was time he helped out around the basement!

Right after Ellen. God, that woman could dance.

***

Chloe came home in a bad mood. Clark had tried to open a charity as the Red-Blue Blur and, because he was shit at delegation, he had put Jimmy in charge of the money. Jimmy had used the money to buy coke. When Chloe had tried to explain to Clark how Jimmy was a photographer/drug addict and not an accountant, Clark had only replied “Well, you were going to marry him.”

Now she had to find a way for Jerry’s Kids to get some mileage out of crack cocaine. And cook dinner for Davis, because God forbid…

Chloe stopped. Weird things were afoot at the Talon. She looked down at the hardwood floor and saw her reflection looking up at her. Then she looked at the wallpaper and was reminded that it had been blue once. She went into the kitchen to find Davis bent over, scrubbing the inside of the oven.

God, the man could bend over.

“Davis, what are you doing out of the basement?”

Davis pulled his head out of the oven. “It’s cold down there. And there are rats. Anyway, I thought that inside of sitting around all day and letting this—“ He lifted his shirt up, revealing the pistols to go with the gun show up in his arms (Chloe didn’t wonder about the Howitzer. Not at all) “—get all fat and flabby, I could help out around the house. It was either that or wonder how Natalia can stay with Frank when she belongs with Olivia.”

“Frank’s a nice guy. Or so I’ve heard.” Chloe put her scarf on the hanger, reuniting it with its four long-missing brothers. “You didn’t have to do any of this. I thought I was taking care of you.”

“You wanna take care of me, find me some more clothes. The buttons on this shirt don’t go all the way up, see?” He opened his shirt like he was posing for a Regency romance cover. “And I think these jeans are a size too small. See? I look like David Bowie in Labyrinth? Chloe?”

Chloe’s eyes were shut and she was shuddering, her lips tightly pursed. She exhaled and opened her eyes, then smiled at Davis. “I’m fine. I just… loved that movie growing up.”

“Me too. I loved Sir Didymus.”

“Yeah. He was nice too.”

“And I made dinner!” Davis went to the dining table, where he pulled a paper towel off a plate of oysters. “Oysters Rockefeller. You do like oysters, right?”

“Well, I tried them once in college…”

“You’ll love these. I think I actually got all the ingredients right?” He gave the oysters a tentative lick. “Tastes fine. You try yours?”

“I’m not sure… you seemed a little shy there.”

“Well, I guess I only have myself to blame if this goes wrong…” Davis slurped the oyster. “Mmmm. Not bad. Maybe if this whole ‘Ultimate Destroyer’ thing doesn’t work out, I can get a job as a short-order chef?”

“Have another. You deserve it.” Chloe pushed her oysters toward him.

“Don’t you want any?”

“Oh, I ate on the way home. I’ll just get some fruit. But you should eat! You need your strength! For things!”

“I guess. After all the take-out we’ve split, I suppose it’s just a little depressing to eat alone.” He slurped another oyster. “Kinda tangy.”

“You’re not alone, Davis.” Chloe grabbed a banana from the island. “See? We’re eating together. Although you should go more slowly. You don’t want to choke.”

“Yeah, I’m just so hungry. It feels like it’s been weeks since I’ve had a meal that isn’t lasagna.”

Davis slowly ate the oyster and Chloe forgot her protest about lasagna being the only thing she knew how to cook in bulk.

“Mmmm,” Davis moaned happily, eyes closed. “I love this recipe! That Rachael Ray knows her stuff.” He reached for another.

Chloe peeled the banana, watching as Davis ate another oyster to feed his insatiable appetite. “You’ve got a little… something…” she muttered.

“Really?” Davis licked his lips. “Did I get it?”

“No, you… again…”

Davis’s tongue slipped out of his mouth, traveling slowly over his lips in a languid turn. “How about now? Chloe?”

Chloe had her eyes closed and was shuddering like someone had opened a window in the dead of winter. She opened her eyes abruptly. “Huh? Oh, I’m fine.” She noticed that the banana had been squished in her hands, cream squeezing through her fingers, and dropped it in the trash. She began to lick her fingers clean. “I think I will have an oyster.”

Chloe didn’t get much sleep that night. Having to listen to Doomsday grunt and moan below her… it made her feel so guilty.

***

The next day, Chloe came home to find Davis mopping up a bloodstain. “Oh! You’re home! Chloe, this guy came by to threaten you and he started causing trouble. I already took care of the body.”

“That’s alright, Davis… oh, God, look at you! You’re covered in blood!”

“Yeah, I was about to take a long shower.” Davis picked up a sponge and began to rub it over his chest. “I’m so sorry, Chlo. Sometimes it’s like the beast inside me, it won’t take no for an answer. It just fills me with this energy, and I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t find something to do with all of it. Some strenuous physical activity to get rid of these sick urges within me. And that guy, I just couldn’t stop myself! I kept going and going and going…” He wrung out the sponge, biceps bulging. “You ever feel like that?”

“No!” Chloe said quickly. “So, you’re dead-set on a shower? Right now? Because I’m feeling kinda dirty. I mean, I fell in some mud.” She opened her coat. “See? It got everywhere.”

“I can rinse that right out.” Davis soaked the sponge in a bucket. “Once you take it off, I mean. When you’re in the shower.”

“Yes, I, um…” Chloe stepped in the bucket. “I mean, at least you were wearing your old clothes when you got splattered with fluids!” She shook the bucket off. “I’d better go take that shower now.”

“Okay, I’ll rinse off in the sink.” Davis went to the sink, where he stripped off the shirt and began dousing himself with water.

“And I’ll be in the shower if you need me… which you won’t, because you can get clean all by yourself… and I’m going to the shower.” Chloe backed up. “Shower, that’s where I’m headed. To the shower.”

“If you’re feeling stressed, I fixed the massaging showerhead for you. It just needed a few screw tightened. Chloe? Are you alright?”

Chloe opened her eyes and stopped shuddering. “Yes! I’m fine! And thanks for the fix-it work, but I don’t think I need the massaging showerhead tonight.”

“Oh, and the water heater broke, so you probably won’t be able to get warm water.”

“Cold shower’s fine!”

***

When Chloe got out of the shower, having had an organic experience with Herbal Essences, she found Davis in his boxers, ironing his wet clothes.

“Davis! Why aren’t you wearing the new clothes I got you?”

“Honestly…” Davis held up the hot pants with ‘Juicy’ printed across the back. “I just don’t think I can pull this off. Or the leather vest, I mean, what do I wear under it?”

“You’re not supposed to wear anything under it! Is what the salesman told me.” Chloe pulled her towel up a little. “Look, I’m sorry. The clothes budget is just a little tight with you eating me out of house and home!”

“Oh, I didn’t mean… sorry. Let me make it up to you.” Davis gently ushered her onto her bed, facedown. “Lie down.”

“What are you doing?” Chloe asked, having a pretty good idea what he was doing.

“Just relax and try to enjoy it. I’m new at this, so tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

Davis opened up her towel.

“No, you’re doing fine… Yeah, make it up to me… make it up to me hard.”

Davis began rubbing her back. Chloe frowned in consternation. Foreplay? But Jimmy said that was just a myth!

Davis’s strong hands ran over every inch of her back, rolling over her shoulder blades, sloping down her sides, kneading against her ribs, and circling his thumb on the back of her neck.

“Davis… are you giving me a massage?”

“Trying to, at any rate. You seem to have a lot of tension.”

NO SHIT, SHERLOCK! Chloe bit her lip and reminded herself that Davis was a serial killer destined to kill her best friend. It was bad enough she’d let him into her basement. How much worse would it be to let him into her pants… or her blouse… or her mouth… or into her pants again…

“Chloe, are you cold? You’re shaking.”

Chloe opened her eyes. “I’m fine. Go lower.”

***

“Chloe, what are you doing?”

Chloe turned around, electric screwdriver in hand, to see Davis returning from his jog, taking off his sweat-soaked windbreaker. The electric screwdriver buzzed a few times in her hand.

“Well, you see Davis, I just thought that you might turn into Doomsday while you sleep, so restraints on your bed would keep you from hurting anyone.” She pulled on a leather strap. “See? It’s very sturdy.”

“Good thinking, Chlo!” Davis picked one up and whapped it against his palm. “I can’t wait to try these out. No more waking up from dreams full of violent urges and sick impulses, wondering if I’ve committed a sin. With these, I’ll be totally restrained!” A thought furrowed his brow. “We should be careful about security, though. While I have these on, I’d be completely helpless. Anyone could do anything they like to me and all I’d be able to do was lie there, totally at their mercy. Just imagine what, say, Lex Luthor could do to me if he found me in such a state… Chloe? You alright?”

Chloe opened her eyes and stopped shuddering. “Right in the middle--! That’s it.” She grabbed Davis by the collar and pulled him down to eyelevel with her. “Davis Bloom. I want you to fuck me. Ravish me. Have your way with me. Hold absolutely nothing back. I want to be walking funny in the morning. I want to have to take a long hot bath because my muscles are sore. I want everyone to look at me and think to themselves ‘Holy shit, that girl got fucked.’ Can you go that, Davis? And can you be romantic about it? I want my sex life to be romantic for once. The only thing romantic about Jimmy was the champagne… but not the beer, or the whiskey, or the rum or the part where he kept whispering ‘ew ew ew’ under his breath. No, I want to be made love to and fucked and foreplayed and every other possible way there is to put a penis in a vagina, and then I want to start exploring alternatives in a scientifically rigorous manner. I want. To have. Orgasms.”

Davis ripped open her blouse.

Chloe closed her eyes and shuddered. “Good start.”

when you wish upon a fishnet stocking

Reccing Notes: Her snark.is.the.best.ever. Also, don't tell me you didn't want to see this continuation to Hex. with Davis. and Willow references. Lets just say Zatanna's spell goes out of control. Everyone starts getting their wishes granted. Including Davis.
also, madmartrigan!

by seriousfic

2603 words, pg-13, hex

“I’m married to Davis Bloome and he wants to impregnate me!”


Chloe woke up, put on her slippers, and went to her mirror. Still Chloe. She’d never been so grateful for being a blonde. Even with her marriage in shambles, Brainiac was gone, Lex was gone, and things were finally back to as normal as they were liable to get.

Her iPhone rang.

Chloe sighed. Well, it had been nice while it lasted. “Hello?” she answered.

“Lois?”

“No, Chloe.”

“Oh, good, you switched back.”

“Zatanna!”

“Right in one! Just calling to say sorry again for swapping our your body.”

“That’s okay. It was actually a little fun. Construction workers whistled at me unironically.”

“Good for you. Hey, as long as I’ve got you on the line, have you noticed anything odd lately?”

“Like what?”

Davis walked by Chloe’s bedroom door, wearing nothing but a towel. On his shoulder. Chloe dropped the phone. “Hey honeybunches of oats, shower time. You in?”

Chloe mutely shook her head.

“Right, phone call. Left some bacon for you on the counter. Bon appetite.”
He walked off.

Chloe put the phone back to her ear. “Zatanna, there’s a naked man in my apartment.”

“Is he cute?”

“Not really my point.”

Chloe had to sit down. She was just noticing all the pictures of her and Davis together, and the bed big enough for two, and the handcuffs on her headboard. Which she really didn’t want to think about.

“Listen, it’s not my fault. I was working on a spell to increase my powers—“

“Increase your powers? You grant wishes!”

“But these would be big wishes, like world peace, an end to world hunger, a fourth season of Veronica Mars.”

“I did like that show.” Chloe noticed the wedding ring on her finger. It had a pretty big diamond. “So what went wrong?”

“It backfired! Went back and gave new wishes to everyone I… helped. You remember the man who wanted to speak dead languages?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s a Viking now.”

“Oh. Not in the Minnesota way, I suppose.”

“So, were you wishing for anything at 3AM last night?”

Davis stepped in front of her door again, wearing nothing but a towel—thankfully around his waist—and lots of moisture. “Want it while its clean?”

Chloe tried to hang onto the phone. “It’s a very important call.”

“Okay. But I hear it’s very hard to get pregnant without,” his eyebrows weaved up and down.

Chloe followed his eyebrows until a call on the house-phone pulled him away. She jammed the phone to her ear again. “We’re trying to get pregnant!”

“We are?” Zatanna asked.

“I’m married to Davis Bloome and he wants to impregnate me!”

“Is he cute?”

“That’s not the point!”

“That’s not a no.”

“Alright! He’s got a stomach like he’s smuggling paint rollers, are you happy?”

“I was looking for something more in the realm of penis. Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“Will that help break the spell?”

“Oh, right, the spell. Listen, he’s under a love spell, so it would be unethical to,” Chloe pictured Zatanna’s eyebrows weaving up and down, “got it?”

“No yankee his wankee, got it.”

“Also, try to keep anyone else from making wishes. The magic is wild, there’s no telling what it could do. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Will you be riding a magical beast?”

“Greyhound.”

***

Chloe went to the Daily Planet, where an intern was waiting for her with coffee and a bagel. As this happened even when she wasn’t bewitched, Chloe wondered about the frequency of her trips to the Daily Planet. She didn’t correct the intern’s assumption that she was an employee, though. It was a damn good cup of joe.

“Clark! Did you make any wishes at 3 AM last night?”

Lois looked up from her workstation to the blonde standing between her and Clark. “What, is Zatanna back to her old tricks? What would that make you, Jimmy? In my cousin’s body?”

“No, I’m Chloe.”

Lois leaned past her to see Clark. “Then I suppose Lex is inside you!”

“No, he’s still Clark.”

“Then… who am I?”

“You’re Lois.”

“Oh, right, that explains the unironic whistling I’ve been getting from construction workers.”

Clark stood up. “To answer your question, Chloe, I was watching Wild Things and… no, that was at 2:30. Darn. Then T2 came on and I wished my best friend was alive to watch it with me.”

Lex walked up. Chloe squeaked and stomped on his foot.

“Chloe! I also wished he wasn’t evil!”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Lex hopped up and down on one foot. “You’re lucky I’m not evil.”

Chloe frantically marshaled her blonde power. “Listen, so long as you’re all here, I have to warn you not to wish for anything. Zatanna’s spell is out of control and there’s no telling what could happen.”

A man at the next desk over jumped up, shouting “I just won the lotto! A million bucks!”

“That could just as easily have been a billion boy-deers,” Chloe said defensively.

“Yes!” shouted a man at the next next desk over, “The state approved a new wildlife preserve! A million bucks, safe from toxic waste!”

“What’s so great about wildlife preserves?” Chloe asked.

“My penis is 15-inches long!”

“It’s not the size that counts, it’s what you do with it!” Chloe shouted back. “Lex, have you been wishing?!”

“What makes you say that, Miss Sullivan?”

“You didn’t have an afro before.”

“I’ll thank you to call her Sylvia.” Lex ran a hand through his perm. “My precious.”

***

By the time Zatanna arrived at the bus station, it was raining jelly beans and the front page of the Daily Planet was nude pictures of Christian Bale. She got off the bus to find Chloe and Lois waiting for her. “Good thing I made worrywoad one of the spell components, so no real harm can be done.”

“It’s raining jelly beans! They kinda sting!” Lois said. “I think one of them broke the skin.”

“Was it licorine?”

“Obviously.”

“Excuse me, I’m a little married over here!” Chloe said.

“Relax,” Zatanna said. “If I can take care of Barack Obama’s marriage, I can take care of yours.”

“But Obama is married.”

“Exactly. To a woman.” Zatanna winked.

***

Chloe walked into her apartment, Zatanna at her side. The magician thought it’d help her to reverse the wishes if she found the first one. They found Davis reclining on the bearskin rug in front of a raging fire, George Michael’s Careless Whisper playing on the stereo. He was wearing nothing but whipped cream.

“I don’t have a stereo,” Chloe said. “Or a bearskin rug. Or a fireplace. Or whipped cream anymore, I guess.”

“Chloe, thought you might come home early, wondered if you might like a snack.”

“Chloe, you cannot have sex with him,” Zatanna said.

“You can stay,” Davis said.

“Chloe, you have got to have sex with him.”

“Zatanna! How would you like it if Davis used a wish to make wild monkey love to you?” There was a long pause. “Don’t think about it! That’s my wish-husband you’re fantasizing about!”

“Wish?”

“It’s a long story,” Chloe said.

“Magic is real,” Zatanna said.

“So whatever I wish could come true. Hmm…” Davis rubbed his chin.

“Don’t even think it!”

“But I could bring about world peace! End world hunger! Bring back Veronica Mars for a fourth season!”

“My wishes aren’t powerful enough to do that,” Zatanna said.

“Oh,” Davis said, crestfallen. “Then I suppose I couldn’t wish myself into—“ Davis suddenly disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Davis!” Chloe cried.

Davis stepped out of the smoke, wearing armor and holding a sword. “Who the hell is Davis? I am the greatest swordsman who ever lived.”

They stared at him in conusion.

“Madmartigan!”

They kept staring.

“From the 1988 hit Willow?”

“Didn’t that movie flop?” Zatanna asked.

Davis reached for his sword.

“But I hear it did great overseas.”

Chloe thought about the way Davis had looked at her that morning. It’d been so warm, loving, like she was the only other thing in the world to him. The polar opposite of the hurried glances Clark gave her before speeding off. No, it was like—how he always looked at her, minus the twitchiness that she guessed came from wanting her approval. Se realized with a treacherous blush that she missed that look, now that he was staring at her like a stranger. “Isn’t he supposed to be my wish-husband?”

“Hahaha!” Davis laughed, his helmet’s horsehair flying back. “All fair maidens dream of being wed to Madmartigan, but my heart is well-armored against all attacks.” He put his arm around Zatanna. “But… maybe with someone like you I could let down my guard and share my awful burden. It’s… it’s hard being the greatest swordsman in the world. Tough making friends.”

Zatanna threw glowing dust in his face.

”Davis!” Chloe yelled. “If you hurt him, I will heal the shit out of you!”

“Relax, it’s just a little love spell.”

Davis straightened, staring at Chloe. “An angel! Oh, spirits, let me be worthy of hearing your messenger’s name!”

Chloe gave Zatanna a look.

“You were complaining he didn’t love you anymore.”

“That was an observation, not an invitation to give him a spell roofie!”

“A spell?” Davis asked. “Yes, a spell to light the darkest corners of my soul with blessed light! Please, tell me your name, beauty of beauties! Don’t let me suffer in ignorance any longer!”

Chloe’s mouth was hanging open. No one had ever talked to her like that. Well, except for that time Clark had drunk-dialed Lana and gotten the wrong number. She probably shouldn’t have kept it on her voice-mail for so long. Or specifically erased the parts where he called her Lana.

“She’s Chloe,” Zatanna introduced.

“Yes, of course, that makes perfect sense! What else could my love be named? I love you, Chloe, I love everything about you! I love that blouse. Did you get it on sale?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Your savvy trickster’s mind arouses me like a minx!”

“Isn’t a minx a kind of animal?” Zatanna asked.

“Shut up, Zatanna,” Chloe said.

Davis looked deep into her eyes, taking hold of her arms in a classic clinch. “Chloe, I’m the greatest swordsman who ever lived.” He tapped his blade. “But this isn’t the sword.” He looked over at Zatanna to make sure she was keeping up. “The sword is my—“

A hatted shadow fell across them. “Let her go!”

Chloe looked up. It was a man, wearing a beat-up leather jacket and a similarly battered fedora.

“Olsen!” Davis spat.

“You can call me Dr. Olsen.” He tipped his hat to Chloe. “And you can call me Indy.”

“What’re you doing here?”

“That depends on how reasonable we’re all willing to be. All I want is the girl!”

“She’s more girl than a peck like you can handle!”

“Don’t call me a peck, I’m not short, I’m average!”

“The hat doesn’t count!”

“Says you!” Jimmy threw out his whip, catching a rafter, and swung down.

Davis stepped out of the way. Jimmy hit the wall.

“Peck!” Davis insulted. “Peck-peck-peck-peck-peck-peck!”

Jimmy got up, looking more Kingdom of the Crystal Skull than Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Jimmy, seriously, what are you doing?” Chloe demanded.

“I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go.”

Davis unsheathed his sword, twirling it in a series of expert flourishes.

Jimmy wearily drew his gun and shot Davis. The bullet ricocheted off his armor and hit Zatanna’s top hat.

“That does it!” Zatanna yelled. “You want to fight, you can do it like the Greeks of old!”

“Which ones, Hellenistic or Classical?” Jimmy asked.

“You know the ones I mean! Thgif! Thgif! Thgif!”

***

Lex strutted down the streets of Metropolis, Stayin’ Alive blasting through his iPod and the wind in his afro. No longer did he have cause to envy his father’s luscious mane, his friend Clark’s ebon tresses, or Chloe’s sassy blonde ‘do. Now, he had the power. Now, he had hair. He'd even garnered some unironic whistles from lady construction workers.

He saw Tess walking down the street and sidled up to her, running his pick through his afro one last time. “Tess, you’re looking lovely as ever. How’s business?”

“It’s… it’s so big…” She forced herself to look down at his face. “I mean, good, Ollie and I had a merger, I mean!, our companies had a merger. In bed.”

“Sounds nice. I hope he was long enough. I hear he’s cut his hair short. Some men don’t have the protein to get their hair thick and soft, with a bit of a curl.”

“Don’t torture me, Lex! Let me touch it. You don’t know how much product Ollie uses!”

“I want my company back.”

“I’ll do it!”

“And I want you to mix some colors in with Ollie’s whites so all his laundry comes out pink.”

“Anything!”

“And I want you to wear flannel again when we make love.”

“But Lex, it itches.”

“Too bad, I was going to let you put my hair in braids.”

“Damn you. Done!”

As Tess touched the magnificent burnished bronze of Lex’s afro, she thought about how silly it was that so many people were using their wishes for such frivolous uses. Her spies were reporting people becoming James Bond, Han Solo, and Xena (and Perry White really didn’t have the legs for that outfit). Why would someone want to be a pop culture icon when they could wish for money or fame or… or…

Lex looked up as a now pink-haired Tess sang boldly “Jem is truly outrageous, truly-truly-truly outrageous!”

That was when Chloe and Zatanna arrived.

“Is that Tess Mercer dressed as Jem?” Chloe asked. “Who would want to be Jem?”

“Yeah,” Zatanna answered morosely. “Who would ever want that?”

“This has gone on long enough, Zatanna, someone could get hurt!”

“You’re right. Hguone htiw eht sehsiw!

Tess stopped singing and Lex’s hair fell out.

“Hey!”

“Oh, alright, Eniagor!”

Lex grew a mullet. He patted it. “It’ll have to do. Quick, Tess, to the Lex Salon!”

“You could’ve done that all along?” Chloe asked.

“I know, I know, but it’d be wrong to put the toupee people out of business.”

“I mean undoing the wishes!”

“A girl can’t be curious?”

Chloe’s phone rang. She answered it. “Hey, it’s Davis. Why am I naked with Jimmy in a full nelson? Besides the obvious reason, I mean. Of causing him pain. And what happened to all my whipped cream, I was just at the store?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.”

“Over dinner?”

“Why not?”

“You did the right thing!”

***

“Another crisis averted,” Chloe said, checking her hair in the mirror of a switched-off computer monitor.

“Just in time too.” Clark typed another paragraph of his article. “Someone wished for Lois to ride me like a pony. With sugar cubes when I was a good horsey.”

“People can be so perverted,” Lois said, looking around. “It’s too bad we’ll never figure out who that sicko was. Never ever. Speaking of completely unrelated subjects, Chloe! I hear you have a hot date! After all, you’ve always wanted Madmartigan to fall in love with you, ever since that story you wrote in fourth grade…”

Chloe looked up from touching up her make-up. “Hey! Princess Amber Valeria was an entirely original creation, not in any way a surrogate for me! And besides, he’s not Madmartigan anymore. The spell left absolutely no side effects.”

***

Davis felt it rising in him again. The power, the confidence, the thrill. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. With three words, he let himself transform.

“I…

“feel…

“BETTER!”

and now, my rebuttal

Reccing Notes: I can safely say, the very first Chloe/Davis fic that made me howl of laughter. And then made me wish that PS3 had been ingenious enough to go through with it.

davis pov.
1,156 words, pg, bride.
by seriousfic at her lj.

Davis knows it looks bad, but he has an explanation for everything.


Hey, sports fans. Davis Bloom here, coming at you from the Arctic Circle. I know you’ve probably heard a lot about my actions recently, so I’m here to set the record straight.

First off, could we please stop calling me Doomsday? I have a name. How come I have to be Doomsday and Clark gets to be Superman? How about he’s Memory Rapist and I’m… Abraham Lincoln? How about that?

Second, I know it looks bad, me being naked, covered in blood (but not to you goth girls. Thanks for the fan mail by the way). But the thing you don’t know is that I black out when I transform into my alter ego. I get up, covered in spikes, and try to give someone a high-five, or a friendly pat on the back, maybe even a goose to the butt – hey, I never said I was perfect. Next thing I know, they’re eviscerated. But I always do the conscientious thing and clean up after myself. Does Clark bust out the brick and mortar after he throws someone through a wall? Nope.

And then that cop came by. Well, you all saw how I tried to explain myself to him, but next thing I know, he’s pulled a gun out and is shooting me! Unfortunately (or fortunately) my skin is good for more than Gray Hulk cosplay. The bullets bounced right off me and hit him. Not one of my finer moments, but hardly my fault.

No sooner do I get him cleaned up then I remember Chloe’s wedding. I head over there to be the bigger man and wish her good luck on her special day. Now, a lot of you don’t know this, but I get around by getting up a good head of steam and then jumping for miles. Maybe it’s not as stylish as those gas-guzzling F-150 pick-up trucks, Clark, but I green my effing routine.

Unfortunately, on my last jump I noticed that there was a passenger plane in my path. Through sheer force of will, I was able to maneuver past it. Have you seen that James Bond film where Roger Moore gets thrown out of a plane without a parachute and has to steal one? It was one of the ones with Jaws? It was kinda like that. Now, although I did succeed in saving all of the plane passengers, that caused me to overshoot my mark and land right on top of Clark’s farm.

As a sidenote, who in the hell gets married in a barn? Yeah, Jimmy, I’m sure as a little girl, Chloe’s fondest wish was to get married in someplace that smells like hay and cows. Now, me, I would reserve one of those big churches for a wedding the second she put on my ring, because I care. But back to the story.

Now, that farm was clearly structurally unstable, which I can only blame on Clark’s preference for having awkward sexual tension with Miss Lois Lane rather than doing basic home maintenance. I mean, the guy keeps a radioactive isotope in his desk! We’re not dealing with Bob Vila here! Beams are falling everywhere, the place was obviously going to collapse at any minute, and since I doubt turning into a naked EMT would calm them down, I thought on my feet and decided to scare them into running. Well, not even scare, more of a ‘emphatically point toward the exits.’

So then Clark comes up to me. Now, here’s a guy who’s an actual outer space alien. You’d think he wouldn’t judge on appearances. Maybe ask me how my day’s been, what I’m doing there, how my mother’s holding up… but no! He throws a punch!

Well, clearly I can’t have a big superhero throwdown in the middle of a crowded barn. People could get hurt. So I threw him towards the trace radiation I detected from that lead box he keeps around (oh, yeah, I can detect radiation. I bet you thought I was just really strong. I bet you also didn’t know that I have the power… to feel). There, safely irradiated by Kryptonite, he wouldn’t cause any more problems.

Then I took out the camera. What can I say, I didn’t want to end up naked and spiky all over Youtube. I have a right to privacy.

Now, everyone else had run away, but for some reason Jimmy was keeping Chloe there. Maybe it was a deer in the headlights thing. Being a gentleman, I went over to apologize for ruining her special day. And what do you think that little dillweed goes? He grabs a two-by-four and hits me!

Now, maybe this didn’t come across in the editing (they went totally reality TV on everything), but when that didn’t work, he rushed me. Now, as some of you might’ve noticed, I have spikes on my chest. He was going to skewer himself. So I shoved him aside, accidentally lacerating him with the spikes on my hands.

Then there was some crying from Chloe. Of course, that barn was still groaning up a storm. So I picked her up and took her away. The barn collapsed shortly after, which was why you saw so many people in the hospital. So I took Chloe to Brainiac…

(He was an old college friend. That’s another thing you probably didn’t know, but it could win you a million dollars on a quiz show someday.)

Where he graciously put us up while we all chilled. Chloe was so grateful for my thoughtfulness that she personally thanked me. Apparently, she’d had cold feet for a while, she just couldn’t be honest about them due to various memory problems. My wedding crashing (get it?) had given her the perfect excuse to think things over.

Now, I couldn’t stay in monster form and talk to her, so I shrunk down and… well, I was naked, and the only clothes the Fortress had was this gay set of blue and red rights. Underwear on the outside. So one thing led to another and…

Well, I might’ve ruined Chloe’s wedding, but I definitely saved the honeymoon. Brainiac was kind enough to dim the lights and play some Barry White, which was a nice break from the howling Arctic winds.

Thankfully we weren’t interrupted by Clark, since he was busy checking up on Lana in the hospital, checking up on Lois in the hospital, hell, I think he might’ve checked up on Kissinger in the hospital.

So, there you have it. The only thing I’m guilty of is being a good friend.

Of course, I’m sure you’re all going to take Jimmy’s side just because I horribly mutilated him and slept with his wife, but I thought you should know all the facts before you start sending me hate mail. Because I may be invulnerable to bullets, knives, missiles, and low-yield nuclear warheads, but words? Words can still hurt.

Tell her how awesome you found it!