sight

Reccing Notes: In case you don't know already. I love this verse. I reallyrealy do. One of the beast things to come out of beast. it's beautiful because it stays true to the realtionshipp, but then fates not cutting them any breaks. (And I was having such fun with Davis and his sweet undercurrents and sexy-ish thoughts. Dang it, then the plot had to intrude!)

by nonky at her livejournal
1367 words, pg-13 (a much better Beast- her verse)

He was fairly stricken with anxiety about it. When the lights were out and he was barely touching her, letting her sleep, her scent was the anchor for his humanity.

He knew how she smelled, of course, and might have been absorbing details like that into his DNA; pushing out alien killing machine know-how.

“'Paba free' is good,” she said. “But 'all natural ingredients' isn't always better.”

Chloe taught him things all the time, most of the information slipping away soon after she finished speaking. He listened intently, because she was interesting no matter what she said or did. The words held so much emotion he was distracted. One whole level of his being was thrown just picking up on the range of feelings she expressed in short, factual sentences. She commanded tones of her voice like symphonies of gentle mockery, sweet loving kindness, and fearless protective instincts.

Eyes brimming with love is real, Davis mused, brimming and overflowing with love for me. Only everything she is does that.

She picked up another bottle of shampoo, because the out-of-state mom and pop drugstore didn't have her brand. Davis was entrusted with deciding what her hair would smell like. He was fairly stricken with anxiety about it. When the lights were out and he was barely touching her, letting her sleep, her scent was the anchor for his humanity.

He knew how she smelled, of course, and might have been absorbing details like that into his DNA; pushing out alien killing machine know-how. Chloe had been all over him, and he remembered each second like the gold nugget of living it was. Those moments in the car and cheap hotels were as far from shame as he could imagine himself at his present point. He couldn't talk about that in front of the nicely greying couple behind the counter, though, who glanced over periodically and met their customers' eyes to give them the opportunity to ask for help.

Besides, if Chloe smelled like arousal, sweat and contentment all the time, he would have to get himself chemically castrated before they maimed each other.

“Okay, these three,” Chloe proclaimed, lining up the bottles in her arms. “They're basically the same, good stuff for hair, so locate my essence.”

With a flirtatious pat of encouragement, Davis' entire world strolled away to give him privacy to deliberate. He flicked open the top of the first bottle, and glanced over his shoulder at her. Chloe was within their safe zone. If he put his arm out and she did the same, they would touch. It was late at night, they were moving again, and he worried about random loss. He was watching for Clark or his allies to take her, but a stray bullet in a robbery could do the job. Davis drove very cautiously, he worried over diner kitchen cleanliness, and he tried not to obsess over her human vulnerabilities.

She stretched for a tall shelf, and her neck was bared for a moment. The Beast purred appreciation, and Davis sighed.

He was getting over some of his horror about his alien body. It could shield her in a building collapse, deflecting lethal shrapnel and glass. Davis would not wish his fate on anyone, but it eased his mind to think he didn't have to worry about leaving Chloe. He could sacrifice himself for her as many times as she was in danger. She didn't like to talk about it. Her face told him her calm in life-or-death situations was the result of practice more than temperament. The Beast didn't like talking about it, either, so Davis tried to live with the vague dread.

He wrinkled his nose at the heavy perfumes rising from the three selections. He was used to the muted shower scents dissipated by steam. The kiwi was too much, the strawberry was okay, but the third - called Snow and Honey - was blissful. It made him shiver as he sniffed, but then a wave of warm sweetness blanketed him. Davis put the other two back and carried the winner to Chloe.

“This one is you,” he said certainly. “At least, it's the closest imitator to how good you smell. Nothing could ever match.”

Her cheeks went pink as she took the bottle, and Davis leaned down to kiss them. She ducked away playfully.

“They're looking at us,” she mumbled. “Come on, we're in the Bible belt. No kissing.”

“No kissing in the Bible belt,” he asked, chuckling, but pulling his black baseball cap down just in case. “Wow, that's strict. I thought they'd have more of population problem though, if there's no kissing. Besides, they're not looking at us, they think we're cute.”

Not even in his childhood had anyone ever thought him cute. The social services people and doctors called him 'healthy' or 'advanced in his development'. Prospective foster parents sometimes commented on his good posture and manners, but his wounded silence dissuaded all of them from wanting him. Once he started growing, thin and strong, cute wasn't the word to match his serious nature. A few elderly patients had called him sweet, but that was because they were grateful to him. Davis tried to be pleasant and helpful, but he couldn't remember ever having unforced joy until he met Chloe.

Cute, he thought, mulling it over as he let her go. We're cute together. Most of it is her, of course, but I don't ruin the picture.

“A few more things,” Chloe said, still blushing prettily. “I know we haven't gone that far tonight. We'll make it up with quick lunch stop and then I can drive for a while.”

“I'm not tired,” Davis told her. “What do you need?”

“Shower gel, and snacks. One of these nights we're going to end up somewhere without an all-night restaurant that delivers.”

They drove evenings and nights, into the early hours of the morning. They were farther from Kansas, but still being careful. Chloe had explained that distance wasn't a problem for Clark if he was really looking for them. Davis seemed rather awed by his fellow Kryptonian's powers, but not envious. He had thought himself normal but flawed for most of his life. He likely wouldn't feel better about himself if he thought of his alien origins made him exceptional. What Clark professed to want would mean giving up all the entitlement he'd been raised to believe was his, and Davis was without that arrogance.

She touched his chest and he curled down toward her. It was nice to do something normal with him, but she suddenly wanted privacy. He didn't protect his feelings at all, and Chloe didn't like having everyone else staring at the frank longing in his touch. She'd never been able to tease him, or joke around, so she couldn't say if he'd take it well or be hurt. Her sense of humour wasn't razor sharp anymore.

She'd seen him covered in blood, caked in it so thick it didn't drip but rather slid in sheets down his naked flesh. There was little to joke about after that.

Chloe unwound from Davis' arms and located the shower gel, hefting the huge bottle. He took it from her and held her hand as they went to another aisle.

“Industrial sized,” he said. “You expect to be doing some mud-wrestling?”

“It's one hundred and forty showers, for one person; so seventy combined showers,” Chloe told him, grabbing a box for his approval. “Good?”

He nodded. The idea of months of showers with her was the best proposition he'd ever heard – easily surpassing the time she begged to go home with him because he was all she knew and trusted. Davis thought about the tiny shower kit in the car, bought in a hurry before they left Kansas. She hadn't bothered stocking up because they just didn't know how far they would get. He had recognized her coaxing as fake confidence, but it hadn't seemed right to pick at her for it. She was trying to help him.

Chloe believed now, honestly. She saw the happy ending.

“Great,” he said deeply, kissing her. “Perfect taste.”

They paid for their stuff and Davis picked up the shopping bag. He nodded to the woman who served them, then took Chloe's hand for the walk through the parking lot. She smiled at him as the door swung shut behind them.

Two minutes later, the man behind the counter joined his wife and picked up the telephone grimly.




This fic verse needs moar comments. So, comment? ;)