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.

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.

thrall

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?

Pregnant.

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.

rest stop

Reccing Notes: So Chloe and Davis run away together. After seeing Davis's clear horror in Prey, it always seemed to me that he would be the more reluctant of the two to embrace his survival and crossing the savior/saved lines he and Chloe had set up. Based on this vid I made. Would that I had the vid skills to make it happen. (^-^)/

by vagrantdream at defying mythos
1842 words, nc-17, alternate universe/beast

Chloe lifted herself up to him with flickering eyes. He remembered, briefly, the night they’d met, he wanted to be the hero her eyes clung to. The light in her eyes had been a heady rush. He’d woken up in the darkness of the alley that night, screaming.

As a boy, Davis Bloome had always been aware of something dark stirring over him. He hadn’t seen the eternal cycle of blood and death, then.
“So you shut yourself off from everyone.”

Chloe thought he was afraid. As long as he could remember, Davis hadn’t taken the time to grow attached to people or places, he lived with what he was given and didn’t try for more. “It wasn’t right, Davis.” She whispered, pretty, soft green eyes sticking to his in the half-darkness. “You’re human.” Chloe was the only person he’d met back in Smallville who would describe him like that. She had left with him soon after they found out the truth. He’d been on the edge of a breakdown, grasping at straws to assuage the transformations.

He was squelching her life by lingering near her, even now. She was aiding him; he felt it taint her as they moved from town to town, cleaning up mobs of murderers and thugs. Davis was afraid of a lot of things; he was guilty of more. Chloe understood and accepted the best compromise. She had him. “How did you live?”

Something in his chest hurt, melting away inside. “I found you.” Davis whispered. She’d told him he could use his powers to stop the senseless killing. He’d wanted nothing more than to die until she’d picked him up off the ground.

His feelings for her had driven him before, one glance and he could barely speak. Chloe closed her hand over his. Her small palm fit there, hid the stretcher calluses and disappearing scars on his. “You have me.” This was charged, heavy; this was more. “I used to help people like you, but none of them cared for more than what I could do for them. You have all of me.”

Chloe lifted herself up to him with flickering eyes. He remembered, briefly, the night they’d met, he wanted to be the hero her eyes clung to. The light in her eyes had been a heady rush. He’d woken up in the darkness of the alley that night, screaming.

Now, Chloe knew what he was-immortal, panicked, something that ought to exist only in nightmares of what her life could have become. She didn’t look at him any differently. I don’t have forever, Davis. He kissed her before the words could be spoken.

They had been subsisting off of light touches since they’d taken to the road. Any kisses were clinging and afraid; broken as soon as one of them came down on a hard surface. It was hardest to stop. She closed her eyes like he was hurting. Her mouth was hot and yielded easily, her gulps and breaths pulling themselves into his lungs. Davis wrapped an arm around her, fingers brushing the hollow of her back before she went off balance.

Chloe rubbed him into her body. He fisted the frail cloth breath and thrust blindly. She cried out. Heat, wet cotton, denim- the blood draining its way out of his brain caught up to him. Fingers brushed his lightly, whispering the cotton down her legs, flush moisture singeing at his cock. He grabbed at them, and held on, blinking painfully. The danger here was to her. When she opened her eyes, Davis couldn’t move.

“Take it, quick.” She said. Chloe was beautiful- her shoulders twitching, red from his hands, a flush making its way down her neck. She hadn’t had time to let her impulses out anywhere else; they usually talked more, but when they dealt with complex feelings this way there seemed less of a chance for tears. “I-I don’t want to do this on my own again.” She said. She smelled like apprehension and heat.

Her mouth found his neck and she was trying not to look at him. They’d both been taking small steps back to protect the other- but was it so hard to admit that that was useless? Her voice was small and gasping as he pushed her up against the closest surface he could find. Davis felt himself clench.

Blindness trickled into his eyes- a dark cloud vaguely reminiscent of his losses of consciousness. He could feel every contact of her knees with his, the small soft press of her tongue against her teeth, her wet intakes of breath. Chloe stumbled back into the coffee table, purplish jacket catching on the ratty lamp shade, dimming their tiny light bulb even further.

Chloe had seen what he was capable of. She was remarkably intelligent even without an alien construct in her head. She knew what it took to preserve her life and safety and did just the opposite. Her fingers locked his mouth to her neck, pulling the buttons out of the way so he could bury his face in soft skin. He closed his eyes and dragged his tongue over a peaking nipple. She made a soft, impatient sound and pushed her body needily up to his mouth. Arousal gave way to a solid, agonizing burn and it was hard to keep perspective when she was a trying to kiss his bottom lip with clingy uncoordinated motions. He aligned them and dipped his hand between her legs, finding the solid circular motion that she liked.

“Y-you.” She stuttered.

“No. Not yet.”

She groped at his lips, prised at them with her tongue, nudging him in. “Yes.”

The room was swimming, a cloud of motion. Chloe had wrapped her half clothed legs around his hips where he stood. Her fingers wrapped around him for a moment, stroked against feverish flesh and he literally couldn’t see past the glimmer gleam that was her eyes. They watered and winced when he pushed inside her completely. He didn’t fare much better when her muscles trapped him in sultry clasp. Chloe shifted her head, down on the desk, licking at her mouth, holding his hands over her hips. “Slow.” He groaned softly, not understanding if it was a command or a reassurance. “I want to be with you.”

Davis thrust into her a little harder, clenching his hands and eyes shut above her, trying to forget her mouth and the soft reciprocating motions of her body; he couldn’t come like a teenager, not now, even if it felt like he had the only thing he’d ever wanted. He needed to show her. Davis considered climbing over her but her face was already clenching at the awkward position. She was trying to get him where she needed him. Her inner muscles tightened in increasingly powerful ripples. “Uhuh. That's--that's it..”

No, he thought, biting into his bottom lip desperately.

He followed her tugs, higher inside her, and it was like she was exercising some invisible magnetic pull. The soft blurriness of her eyes and her wetness and the soft movements of her lips- ‘more’ driving him pound into her like a heedless, violent animal. “No.” He muttered, stilling and gasping, nudging back inside. She was open to him, so hot he could have sworn he’d burn up if he didn’t move a little. She scratched with hot fingers and he jerked.

“Yes. Davis…” The column of her neck rolled, so white and perfect he longed to brush his fingers there. Davis pumped into her from where he stood, wishing he had the power to twist and bend himself close enough to kiss it. His power was to bring death to everything he touched. She trusted him, somehow.

Her legs buckled against his back, softly, like the life had left the invisible, threatening faces under his fingers. She’d seen. Yet, she was helpless and needy and he wanted to hold her as she broke. Davis hunched his back to kiss her and her lips panted dryly against his. He clasped at her shoulders, the muscles jumping at the unexpected restriction. Chloe swiveled, legs quivering wildly as he surged in once more, a tell tale trickle signaling that he was losing it. She had to come.

There was a Chloe blanket over his thoughts, her face and her sweetness and how badly he needed her. How badly he wanted her to need him. “Yes. Yes. Y-“

His hands kept their hold, nearly bruising her. Chloe jerked and he was trapped inside hot agony, wrung out with warm squeezes. He felt warm, pouring himself into her so deeply he cried out and clutched not to go to his knees. The terror and blanketing defenses in his mind shattered into oblivion. He was empty except for Chloe and she was curving his head into her shoulder, murmuring.

Her hips lifted unconsciously up to his as she rode what remained of her climax out, grinding against his pelvis, lips parted tenderly. Davis could feel little shocks of it going through his system and groped to squeeze her hands while she felt it. Chloe uttered a sound and dropped her head back against the wall.

“What-what is it?”

“I think I must be in love with you.” She whispered. It had been their first time for everything. Hazed, he gathered Chloe back into his arms, her proximity like a drug in his system. It was all he wanted to hear and now all his mouth wanted to do was gape. He knew, but the words were new nevertheless.

“We’re going to be doing this more once we get out of here.”

Davis didn’t want to think of the ominous, bloody miles of road ahead of them. He didn’t have the heart to speak. Her hand trailed awkwardly against his shirt, and she was shaky and beaming. Chloe looked so- free-for a moment that it seemed almost a crime that the thing in him could hold her.

“Hey.” He breathed instead. The world had rarely been kind or good even in his ironic as life as paramedic, but he grasped onto hope through sheer will. Chloe had lived most of her life used and ignored by some of the most clueless men in the world. She loved him, somehow, unbelievably, and there had to be some order in the universe that said he would make her happy. His nose rubbed into her hair; the pang was bittersweet. He, not the beast, would kill anything that took that away from her. It felt like that time was coming closer.

Davis would have been lying to himself if he told himself he hid it from her. The smile in the corner of her eyes had dimmed a little.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. I love you.”

She didn’t expect the guilt and constant terror to disappear just because she took him inside her. Yet she almost could have sworn there had been a moment when she’d seen it all leave his face. She needed that for him.

“You should be sorry.” Chloe told him thoughtfully, dragging her head into his shoulder. “You’re heavy.”

i will hold you while the world falls to pieces

Reccing Notes: So let's talk about Stiletto- Davis's spined alter ego drags Chloe's potential killer down and makes mincemeat out of him. Oh so wrong, but somehow the perfect jumping place for a sexual chlavis relationship. (Just check out the tag. ;P)

xxamlaxx's characterization of Chloe as a strong woman in control of her desires and more than capable of hiding a body is pitch perfect. We can see, right from the getgo, why Davis is so completely smitten.

by xxlamlaxx at her livejournal

1189 words, nc-17, stiletto

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier.” He brushes his thumb across the line of red on her neck, the superficial cut too close to her jugular for comfort. He isn’t sorry and he never will be sorry because it saved Chloe’s life. The world is made of silence and concrete and the smell of copper. Blood gleams wet and red in trails on the floor, shines scarlet on Chloe’s skin as she kneels on her hands and knees beside him, grips an extra sponge between her fingers and scrubs. The crimson washes away in pink rivers of water, foamy soap, white bubbles that pop when she wipes the ground with a towel.

“That looks clean.” Blood has dried on Chloe’s palms, emphasizes the lines of her hands and fingers in ruby. “I’m going to go take a shower; I’ll bring you something to eat when I come back.” Chloe’s footsteps echo off the cold, isolating walls, bounce back and settle into silence as the basement doors close; a sliver of yellow light permeates the blackness of the cellar, shining from beneath the crack in the door. He waits for the light to fade, for the dark outlines of Chloe’s feet to gravitate out of sight, but instead they remain in place. He rests his ear against the cool metal of the door, hears the soft sound of Chloe crying, the thud of her body as it slides to the floor. He listens to her sob, shuddering inhalations, his fingertips flat against painted steel.

Chloe leaves after long moments of crying, of standing motionless, whispering apologies into the darkness. Chloe is as invincible as a sheet of paper in a rainstorm but he’s the only one who knows it. Chloe is supposed to be a foundation and a support beam but cement can crack and crumble just like wood rots and splinters. Expectations, responsibility, and worries are all weights on Chloe’s shoulders that his presence has no doubt only augmented. A myriad of contrite words sit heavily on his tongue and he presses his hands against the basement doors and pushes, steps into the light and freedom.

“Shouldn’t you be in the basement?” Droplets of water trickle from Chloe’s wet hair, land on the cotton of her t-shirt, soak into the material immediately. There are damp, dark spots on her shoulders and brown hair rather than gold. Her green eyes are uncharacteristically miserable; she radiates vulnerability as she runs a brush through her hair.

“I can go back down, if you want.” She looks at him with a modicum of fear blazing in her irises. She looks at him like he’s a monster, like he’ll hunt her down and tear her up and rip bone from flesh and muscle. When their eyes meet he can see it killing the man from earlier, turning a body to ooze, a puddle of blood and skin and tissue; the scene of horror reflecting in her eyes, playing over and over like a broken movie reel.

“No, it’s alright. Are you hungry?” She pads barefoot across the carpet, her long t-shirt stops at her mid-thigh. He tries to focus on the carpet, but his gaze is drawn to the golden, toned flesh on the back of her legs, the taught curve of her calf muscles. “I can cook you something.” Her slender hand closes around the refrigerator door handle; there are clinks of condiment bottles rattling together as she pulls it open. “Um..” She glances at him, a tinge of red rushing to her cheeks. “You might want to go downstairs and put on some clothes.” He realizes for the first time that he’s still naked, that his clothes are lying in scraps of cloth on the basement floor. “I’ll bring you a sandwich. No tomato right?”

“Yeah.” He walks back down into the basement, into the cold and the quiet, finds a pair of boxers in the drawer by his cot. “You could have told me I was naked earlier.” Chloe sets the plate down on the end of his cot, draws her hand back before their fingers can touch.

“You don’t buy something without inspecting the merchandise first.” Chloe is snark and wit and humor but she runs a hand through her damp hair, adjusts the hem of her t-shirt, tugs it down lower on her smooth thighs.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier.” He brushes his thumb across the line of red on her neck, the superficial cut too close to her jugular for comfort. He isn’t sorry and he never will be sorry because it saved Chloe’s life and as much as he hates what he is, what he becomes, what he will always be; Chloe is alive and there is no good and no evil in a world where he still has Chloe Sullivan. “Please don’t be afraid of me Chloe.” He holds her chin between his thumb and index fingers, gulps down the sadness rising in his esophagus when she turns her head away.

“I’m not afraid.” Her palm glides over the back of his hand, gently eases it away. “Everything is difficult now Davis. I only leave the apartment when I have to, I can’t have anyone over for an extended period of time. I’m lying to Clark…I know this is the only way to protect him, to protect the world but it’s hard.”

“I can go, if you want me to.” He’ll destroy the planet if he leaves, if he goes back out into the city of reprobates and innocents and mendicants, the city that lives and breathes and dies as easily as a human. One night and he can make the streets run silent, cause cars to sit idly on the pavement, cold engines and metal, bodies lying on the streets in heaps, shards of glass and broken concrete on the sidewalk. “Just tell me to leave and I will.”

“I won’t.” She smells like soap, shampoo and sweetness, tastes like water and stale coffee when she leans forward and kisses him. Her lips are silky soft, parting against his, a slick slip of tongue into his mouth. “No.” She shrugs his hands from her shoulders, uncurls his fingers from the collar of her t-shirt, preventing him from pulling it over her head, revealing what he imagines is pale skin and perfect breasts.

“Do you want to do this?” His voice is a strained whisper as she mouths his Adam’s apple, slowly licks a line down his chest, runs her tongue along his pectoral and abdominal muscles.

“I don’t want to do that.” She murmurs into his stomach, words muffled in his abdomen. “But I want you.” And then she sinks down, takes him into warm wetness, takes in the little boy who couldn’t love and the man who can’t help but love. Chloe swallows him hard, swallows him deep, has his heart beating rapidly in his chest and sweat forming on his skin. Her fingers migrate to the base of his cock, stroke and squeeze while she hums around him, draws out ecstasy and relaxation.

“We could make this easier.” He tells her later, as they lie side by side on his cot, his head on her chest, her fingers running through his hair. “We could go somewhere, you and I, away from Clark, away from the temptation.”

“I’m willing to give it a try.”

He tightens his arm around Chloe’s waist, holds onto the only certainty in his life.

this tornado loves you

Reccing Notes: So remember that time after Eternal where we were all going 'Chloe locked the door, omygod she locked the door?' Well, I was in horrible withdrawal so I wheedled my flist and the lovely simplytoopretty wrote this. She's (usually) a Chloe/Clark writer, and one of the best. Her Chlavis is among my favorites because she handles every facet of their relationship, including Chloe's insecurities and Clark's lingering effect on her.

Chloe's terrified of the implications the beast and Davis's apparent immortality will have for her best friend, but there's something between them, anyway. Just read between the lines, at all that remains unsaid as that line is crossed. It will break your heart. And you will come back for more.

by simplytoopretty at her livejournal
771 words, r, eternal

Instead she finds herself nodding her head, muttering, “Yes,” unable to resist what she feels. A part of her is horrified at what she’s doing, but the larger part is rejoicing in her decision. Chloe descends the stairs slowly, an almost creep. Her feet against the cement stairs are nearly soundless. Her left hand grips the wooden railing as she climbs down the stairs, darkness surrounding her. The light is bad and the shadows litter every corner.

At the bottom of the stairs she pauses. To call out or to wait for him to notice her arrival: her mind is unsettled. A part of her would like to return up the stairs and pretend she was never down here.

The choice is taken away from her.

“You’re back,” Davis says as he comes forward, out of the dark gloom. His clothing consists of dark gray sweatpants and a dark green shirt. In contrast, his skin is white, almost the color of chalk.

There are lights in the basement, but only one is functional. It’s the one directly above where she stands, at the base of the stairs. Pale yellow light that barely penetrates the dimness.

“You’re back,” he repeats, relief evident in his voice. Guilt sweeps over her: a part of her had desperately wanted to run away once she got down here. He needs her and a part of her just wants to run.

She shouldn’t be here, yet she is. There’s a pull between them, she can’t deny it, and it frightens her. There’s been nothing like this in her life before.

Davis moves, closing the distance between them. A slice of air between their bodies. She tilts her head slightly to see his eyes, those dark pools that entrance and terrify her at the same time. His hand falls upon her cheek, a gentle caress, nothing monstrous about it. His palm is warm and she wants to lean into his touch.

Yet she shouldn’t. He is, after all, a killer. A part of her screams that killing is his nature; she’s torn between sympathy and revulsion. The sympathy side is winning out, the side that sees his nature as a battle he has lost in the past but one he may be able to win in the future.

It seems to depend on her. This knowledge weighs on her, a burden she can’t simply shrug off.

“I missed you,” Davis says. His thumb is brushing her cheek.

“Davis…”

“I need you.”

Chloe closes her eyes. It’s heady to hear these words, this admission. His fingers are beneath her chin, lifting her head just a bit, and then his lips are landing on hers. A light, soft pressure: tentative exploration.

He pulls back, his hands threaded through her hair now. He looks at her eyes, assessing it seems, and then says, “I want all of you.”

Her throat is dry and she swallows quickly. “I…what do you mean?”

“I want to know all of you.”

The answer she should give is a firm no. Instead she finds herself nodding her head, muttering, “Yes,” unable to resist what she feels. A part of her is horrified at what she’s doing, but the larger part is rejoicing in her decision.

His lips are on hers again and she can barely think; there’s a pounding in her head and it dominates everything. Fingers fumble with clothing, removing as much as nothing. His sweatpants, her jeans, their shoes. The items of clothing abandoned on the cold basement floor for now.

There’s a couch, in the corner, in the darkness. Davis presses her against the wall, her cotton shirt and jacket a barrier between the cement and her fragile skin.

“Here?” he says.

The light from the lamp just reaches them where they are. Darkness permeated.

“Here,” Chloe says. Here is with her back against the hard wall. Here is where things are real and gritty and everything that she needs.

He pushes into, their bodies joining intimately. Her fingers clutch at his cotton-covered shoulders as he thrusts in and out of her willing body. Their eyes are locked, their gaze never breaking. His eyes are dark and she gets lost in them. She can’t think.

When he comes, he says, “I love you.”

She bites her lip, unable to return the words as her orgasm washes over her. Pleasure spreads and there was already the pounding in her head and yet she still bites her lip to keep quiet. Despite what she feels, that tug between them, she can’t hand over that last element.

His eyes register his disappointment as they disentangle their bodies.

On her lips are the words I’m sorry.

But Chloe doesn’t say those words.