The Memoirs

The fifteen enormous shards of glass, that had broken in chunks, were safely wrapped in news papers and tucked away into a garbage bag. The shards had been swept up, off the ground and the countertop, and into the bag, as well. A mop had been passed, to pick up any stragglers lest risk cut feet, and the partial entryway to the bedroom, which had been sprinkled with glass, was vacuumed well.

What was left of the mirror was taken down, with thick winter gloves to protect the delicate pads of human fingers, and all that was left was the concrete of the house, strangely enough, peeking through what was once a lovely mirror. Dominic had lit a few candles, under glass, to set in the bathroom, because the crash of the thick bottle had taken with it the light fixture above the sink.

The strong scent of his lovers after shave, once lovely, only clouded Dominic's senses with despair.

A good night said to Lex, the bag taken with him, and Dominic lay curled up atop the covers, for a moments rest and a moments prayer. He didn't... understand, didn't understand why.... how he could be so thorough and hard working in his business life, but his personal was in shambles. He didn't... understand, didn't understand in any sort of capacity why he was always fucking up, and he asked his Savior for wisdom and mercy, there on the bed he shared with his lover.

Tuned out Leno, tuned out his laptop beside him, and just asked for Gods mercy, for Gods strength and understanding.

Lionel didn't say a word at first as he stood in the bedroom, unseen because of the broken mirror, and leaned against the doorjamb. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as his lover curled up, and sighed silently.

Dominic was far better than he deserved. Dominic, who loved him ceaselessly, who accepted the outbursts of temper just as easily as he accepted everything else, cleaning up his messes when Lionel just left them to stew.

He moved silently across the room, and slid gently onto the bed behind his lover. The mattress dipped with his weight, and his arms slid around Dominic's waist as his lover slid towards him just a little.

Oh. Dominic opened his eyes, as he felt familiar, warm arms around his belly, and he didn't turn, not just yet. He closed his eyes once more, thanking God for answering his prayer, and looked up at the rosary sitting beside Harry on his night stand. Alright, God. Maybe just this once. He tentatively, quietly, slid his fingers down to slide softly across the ones on his tummy, and closed his eyes for a long moment.

And deadpanned, though his lips twitched the slightest bit, "Enrique, I told you, not tonight."

Lionel buried his smirk in the back of Dominic's neck, and affected a bad accent. "Si, I know, but chu madre es busy tonight."

Dominic just about choked on his snickers, wrapping his fingers around his lovers arms around him and held tight. "I didn't know if you were coming back." He closed his eyes again, and held his fingers, sliding them to link with Lionel's, as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," Lionel said softly.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, a little harder than before, and brought one of their twined hands up to kiss. "I'm sorry. I sho-shouldn't have meddled. I'm sorry."

Lionel's fingers tightened around Dominic's. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Dominic. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have flown off the handle like that."

"I shouldn't have spoken about Lillian the way I did. You...are just an infuriating man, and... I was trying to..." He stopped talking, and blew out a long, soft breath.

"Break through that thick head?"

"At least the shield… you had around yourself. No one can put a chink in your armor, no matter what. Not even my telling you Lillian was a fool did it, Lionel." He closed his eyes for a long moment. "I'm sorry, that... I didn't... try in a better matter."

Lionel tightened his grip slightly, then relaxed. "Clark did."

"I figured. Lex said you and he were talking."

"We did. Talk." Deep sigh. "I don't know that I'll ever... agree with you, about Lillian. But Clark... he made me see you were right. It couldn't have been my fault."

Dominic was quiet, for a long while, with Lionel's arms around him, Leno playing in the background, and their bodies close. His laptop was open to his AOL account, the wire from the phone jack trailing off the bed, and he studied it without looking for a long while. And when he finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Do you still want this baby with me?"

Lionel's arms went rigidly tight. "I can't think of anything I want more."

Oh, good. Oh. Thank you, Jesus. "Good." He answered, softly, and now, finally, rolled his head back so he could see his husband. "I love you."

Lionel smiled softly, stroking his lips briefly over his lover's. "I love you, Dominic. And I'm sorry... for being a stubborn fool."

"I'm sorry for being a meddling ass." He smiled, softly, and turned back around, so he was cuddled close. Possible it was the best place, on the entire planet, here where it was so safe and loved. "Lex and I got the glass cleaned up."

"I'm calling a glazier first thing in the morning; I'm going to have it replaced."

"Next time you lose your temper... use something less stinky. I've got the window open in the bathroom... it smells like a gay brothel."

Lionel chuckled quietly again. "Is that your subtle way of telling me that I should change my aftershave?"

"Of course." A mock shudder. "It stinks. I much prefer your cologne over that stuff." He shifted the slightest bit on their pillow, tugging him close as a friend of his IM'ed, and his lips twitched as he saw the message.

"Hi sugar bear! Come on, talk to meeee! Hospital grave shift SUCKS."

Lionel pressed his lips to his lover's shoulder. "Go. Entertain Toni. I'm going to shower, and I'll be back."

"I'd rather you entertain me, husband." Dominic whispered, softly, into the warm air of their bedroom, and didn't say anything for a long minute as that statement soaked in. When he was sure, he looked over his shoulder, and met his lovers eyes.

Lionel turned back and met his lover's gaze. "I will. As soon as I get out of the shower." Gentle smile. "I won't be long, but I need one."

His lips curved, and he nodded, quietly, a sliver of excitement racing up his spine as he sat up. "I swept and mopped... it should be safe."

Lionel paused, and looked back again. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry you had to clean up another one of my messes."

"It was just a bit of glass, Lionel. Not a catastrophe." In other words... it was alright, all was forgiven, and he smiled at him, crookedly. "I'll tell Toni to stop pestering."

Soft smile. "Tell her you're waiting for your husband to get out of the shower so you can have slick, sweaty sex."

A little slow, expelled breath. "She'll hate me. She threatened me with putting up a web cam the next time I teased."

"She won't hate you." Little grin. "She likes you too much to hate you."

He smiled at him, crookedly, and turned to type on his laptop. I'm going to go, Toni. Lionel and I had a bit of an argument, and he's promising sex, though his hearts not into it. Going to sleep, ducks. I'll see you tomorrow coming.

Okay! You guys take care, and I want the scoop tomorrow.

Always.

Night honey!

Good night, love.

While Dominic was typing the messages on his laptop, Lionel disappeared into the bathroom. By candlelight, he retrieved another towel from the towel rack, and walked carefully over to the shower stall. He put the towel on the edge of the sink and showered quickly, giving his hair a quick but thorough wash, and scrubbed off the rest of his body before wrapping the towel around his hair and drying it as he got out of the shower.

Keystrokes had quieted, and he blew out the candles, throwing the bathroom into darkness as he went back into the bedroom.

Leno was over, Conan, Dominic's hero, was on, and he was watching Orlando make a right hung over ass of himself. Even if he was pretty. He had a bowl of ice cream on his knees, that he was almost finished with, burrowed under blankets and under pillows, and he looked up from his sitting up snuggle as his lover came in. "Feel better?"

"Actually, yes. I do." He tossed the towel back into the bathroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hand over his lover's knee.

He smiled at him and tugged Lionel's arm, so he'd slide into bed with him. He turned and set the bowl of ice cream to the side, laying back in bed and offering snuggles under their warm blankets. "Mmmm. You smell good. Not at all gay brothel."

Lionel did just that, slid into bed beside his lover, and let his head rest on Dominic's shoulder. "I didn't use aftershave," Lionel teased softly. "I didn't shave my throat, so I'm all stubbly." Little sigh, as he scraped his beard over his lover's shoulder.

"I know." A grin as he cuddled down with him, and rubbed his own stubbly cheeks against his lovers temple. "You'd think, with all the hair we sport, we'd have less of a stubble problem." but he was grinning, and he tugged the blankets up over his lovers shoulder, keeping him warm against his cotton covered shoulder.

"Is Toni forgiving you for taunting her?" He stroked his hand over his lover's chest, and didn't make a move to do anything else.

"She was alright with it. Did I tell you, she and Graham finally had sex?"

"No, no, she didn't, thank God. I want to know nothing about your brother's sex life, or lack thereof, thank you."

"I don't care about him. I was happy… for her. She seems so happy now. Not that I'd know about him." His eyebrows fell slightly at that, sighing softly as he pressed his lover a little closer to his body. "I love you."

"I love you too, Dominic." Soft kiss to the cotton-clad shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Its done and over."

"But I'm still sorry it happened." Little sigh, as he left his head on his lover's shoulder.

"The next time we go shopping, are you going to freak out?" Dominic asked it softly, but truthfully, as he rubbed his fingers through his lovers damp hair and situated him closer, against his throat, so he could cuddle him close.

"I don't know," he said softly. "I honestly don't know. And you don't know how hard that is for me to admit."

"Sometimes, Lionel, I wish… I were a woman." Dominic waited a beat. "I know that sounded weird. And I wouldn't trade my dick for anything. But I mean... I wish... you know, that I could give you a family. And we didn't have to go through someone else. It would be easier, than this, I think." He waited for a moment, stroking his hair. "When I'm tired I make little sense."

"No, love. I know what you mean, and you're just fine the way you are. I wouldn't change you--or this--for anything." Tight squeeze.

"You don't ever wish you had a woman, Lionel?" Dominic whispered, softly, into his lovers hair.

"No," he answered back, just as quietly. "Women... with very few exceptions... cannot hold my interest for very long. They're soft, feeling, and unable to stand up to me."

His lips twitched, as he rubbed them across his lovers temple. "Lucky for you I'm not as flaming and feminine as say, Rico."

"Oh, thank Christ. Had you been, I sincerely doubt you'd have survived in my service this long. Rico is a wonderful tailor. He does nice work on my hair when necessary, and I'm sure he's a wonderful lover for that little mouse of his, but there are times I am afraid to go near him for fear of the flames."

"Not in your service. You're in my service." His lips curved wickedly as he brought his lover close, snuggling him close as they turned more on their sides, Conan snickering in the background.

"Yes... yes, I am. Your willing servant." He turned onto his side to curl up tightly around his lover, letting his head slide from Dominic's shoulder to his arm.

"And don't you forget it." He answered, softly, though he was gently smiling, stroking his lovers hair from his skin . "We're leaving day after tomorrow. Tomorrow morning... would you care to stay an hour or two with me in the morning and get our things packed?"

"Packing." Distasteful curl of his lip. "How I hate the chore."

"But...we're not packing for a business trip." Dominic murmured softly in reminder. "No business. No suits. Sweaters, polos, jeans, slacks. Comfy."

"Jeans. I don't suppose I could talk you into going out and buying me a few pair to take with us, could I?"

He was delighted, but he hid it as best he could. "I can. Like the ones you wore in Metropolis? they fit well?"

"Yes, they fit very well, in fact. More comfortable than many of the slacks I have. I think I'll leave most of them here, and take the... oh, what are the ones that Clark gave me for my birthday... Dackers, I think they're called?"

Alright. That smile he couldn't hide. "Dockers. Maybe some chinos as well. And yes indeed, the slacks are quite constricting. Though, let me tell you, its going to be chilly in Ireland. This time of year its still not quite spring. I called home early yesterday to tell my aunt everything was on schedule... Lionel, my ninety seven year old gran got on and told me to hurry my arse up, for I was slow as winter potatoes in coming home."

"Ah. Dockers. Of course." A small nod. "I know you're eager to see them, Dominic... I know they all miss you. Call tomorrow, and make sure that there's a bed and a heater in the house, and we can make do with the rest of it until we can get more furniture bought."

"I think their might be a bed." Dominic answered, softly, a smile curving his lips as he peaked down. "If not, that's never stopped us in the past." A quiet snicker. "I'll ask my uncle if he's got an extra one, just in case."

Lionel smiled back softly. "Make sure it's big enough for two." He laced their fingers together tightly, and stroked over his lover's digits with his own.

"Mmm." Dominic murmured it, quietly. "When Lex and I go into Metropolis tomorrow, I'll get the things we need. Anything else you can think of?"

"Make sure our passports are found and up to date." A blink. "Also, we'll have to see what the current exchange rate is for pounds to dollars, and I'll make sure I have enough cash to take with us, all exchanged for the proper currency."

Dominic's lips quirked. "The punts, love. Though they'll accept English pounds about the whole Isle."

"Punts?"

He grinned. "The currency in the southern parts of Ireland, beloved. Ireland has two currencies in use. The pound sterling, from England of course, but there are also individual notes available from all the major banks accepted. One can use the English notes, but the Sterling Bank of Ireland Notes, the Ulster bank notes, and... I believe, the Scottish Bank notes. All used in general exchange, you see, though there was talk of changing it to the Euro Dollar last year." He looked up, and smiled. "For our use, the English pound will work best."

Lionel just blinked.

Dominic grinned, and rolled his eyes. "I know what you're thinking. Shut up."

Lionel just smirked up at his lover. "I didn't say a word. Notice?"

"I know, but I've known you many a year and I know what goes on behind those big brown eyes of yours." He shifted, and cuddled in closer. "Pounds. And we've got to bring an extra suitcase, for the trinkets we find and the food my family will make us bring home."

"Let's wait until we get over there. There's a sea chest on hold for me at Dubliner's Antiques, in Dublin. I had meant to surprise you with it, but it's one of the rather large sea chests that captains had in their holds to store their personal effects in."

His eyes widened and he beamed, broadly. "Really? That sounds absolutely lovely." And there were all but stars in his eyes. "Really? How old is it?"

"I think the auctioneer quoted it at a hundred and fifty years, but I'd have to wait until it's been brought home and Andrew's had a chance to look at it."

"Fabulous. Marvelous. Oh, dear. I can't wait to see it!" Alright. Excitement, capped, and he beamed down at his lover, giving him a soft, loving kiss. "Thank you."

Kiss returned gently, and his fingers stroked through Dominic's hair and goatee. "You're welcome," he said softly, as he nibbled at his lover's lip.

"You know my weak spot." Dominic whispered softly, and heaved a lusty, antique-y sigh, curved with a smile. He gently stroked over his lovers ears, giving him warm, loving kisses as they snuggled there, together.

Lionel was quiet for a few moments. "Can we just... can you just hold me?"

"Indeed, my love." He whispered it, softly, and brought him in, tenderly close. "I'm sorry for my cruel words. I love you, Lionel."

"I love you." Lionel turned so that he was wrapped almost entirely around his lover. "Your words weren't cruel, Dominic. Just... truthful."

"I wish you understood what I see, from my point of view." Dominic answered, softly, as he rubbed his fingers through Lionel's hair softly. "That's all. I just wish you could see it."

"I don't think we'll ever see the same things, but I don't think it matters. I think that as long as we love each other, we'll survive it."

"You're a wise man, Lionel." Quietly said, after a minute of contemplating. "You're very wise. But, come now. Rest against me, and sleep, my love."

"Come on; you need to sleep too. We can sleep together." He didn't move, though, just wrapping his arms tightly around his lover's waist to accommodate a deeper snuggle as his head stayed on his lover's arm.

"I'm about to fall asleep, if it helps." Dominic whispered, though he was smiling, his lips curved as he rubbed his lips against a warm temple. "Today, in all aspects, kicked my ass."

"Poor tired little cricket." Lionel cradled Dominic against him. "Sleep. Worry about packing in the morning. When it's actually time to pack."

"Mmm." A silence fell over them, for several minutes, as his body finally relaxed against the blankets, against his lover.

He, of course, broke the silence. "Your wool socks."

One eye cracked open. "I'll gag you with them if you don't shut up and go to sleep."

His grin tweaked the corners of his lips, and with one hand and no eyes open, flicked off Conan with the remote. "Your black belt, the good one."

"Go. To. Sleep."

"And your boots. We mustn't forget th..." Yawn. "Them. It'll rain." He turned more on his side, scooting down and taking his arm back from his lovers lean as he wrapped his arm around his lovers back. The other tucked under the pillow they were sharing, and he snuggled in under the blankets.

"Your orange sweater."

Lionel raised one hand out of the tangle of blankets and slapped it over his lover's mouth.

His eyes opened... he grinned, around his lovers hand, and muffled, "'or b'ue sh'rt."

Lionel didn't move his hand. "Sleep. Now."

He picked Lionel's hand up from his mouth, and set it instead down on his hip, snuggling in closer. "Sleep. Got it." A beat. "I'm going home."

"No, Dominic. You are home. You're just visiting your homeland."

"I don't know if you could ever understand it, beloved." He whispered it, softly. "You were born here, you've lived here all your life. Theirs something in your blood that's connected to the place you were born, where you have lived. You're so lucky to have it."

"I know I'll never get it, Dominic. But you do, and that's enough for me." Lionel rolled onto his back, eyes closed, arm around his lover's waist.

"I'm going to shut up." He whispered, and rolled over onto his side, cupping his lovers as he set a hand on a bare chest.

"Don't shut up... just... sleep." He brought Dominic's hand up to his mouth, kissed it, and let it fall back to his chest.

"Okay." A beat. "I'm nervous."

"I've noticed." He rolled back over. "There's no reason to be. You're going back to your relatives, to your family, to the place where you grew up at. You said yourself they're eager to see you."

"I know. they haven't changed... but I have. What if they're horrified by the person I've become?"

"Then they're all a bunch of jackasses."

Another beat. "They are, anyway, but they're my family." He shifted then, and held him closer. "I'll shut up. Really."

"You are going to be fine, Dominic. They are going to love you, believe me. They're fools if they don't."

"They have to love me, they're family." He paused. "I miss my granny."

"Would this be the one that's telling you to hurry home?"

"Aye. She's old as hell, Lionel, old as hell. I love her, a great deal."

"Then you know at least one member of your family will be happy to see you. Dominic... please don't be worried. You're going to be welcomed home with open arms, and you know it."

"I know. I'm just being a worry wart." Dominic sighed, softly. He was quiet for a few moments... then a few more, and the moments turned into minutes before a very quiet, soft snore echoed from Lionel's shoulder.

Lionel would have laughed, if he wasn't afraid of waking his lover. As it was, he kissed him softly on the cheek, tucked the blanket up a little higher around the both of them, and put his head back on the pillow, waiting for sleep.

- = - = -

Shayla had foregone her helmet.

The pit of her stomach was filled with unnamed terror as she moved forward through the well-lit room. The floor was slick under her feet, and she refused to think about what was on it. The heat from the lights beat down on her skin, making her sweat profusely as she moved towards what would certainly be her doom.

She jumped when there was a loud, ominous click and her ears were assaulted by note after discordant note that promised her death, or at the least, maiming. Her heels clicked a frightening counterpoint to the music, and she shuddered as she moved towards her executioner.

Or her dance partner, depending on how you looked at it.

Pete was never going to be able to listen to this song again. Ever. He was so sick of Whitney Houston, her problems, and her voice, that he could have shot himself. He'd listened to this song at least forty times tonight, started and stopped over and over and over. They were in full costume, as the competition was only fourteen days away, and he had to get Shay used to the full skirt and shoes... as IF the heels hadn't been enough.

So said his split lip and the welt on his forehead.

The steps were down pat. They had everything they'd needed to learn down, down pat, and the dance, so Chloe had said, was arousing, beautiful, and perfect for the both of them.

Except Shay had no sense of balance.

"One two three, one two three FOUR five one two three, turn, turn, good, turn, one two three four and down," Pete grasped her around the waist and back, dipping and rolling her so all her blond hair that his gorgeous woman had been growing out flew over her face in that wave of golden curls that just.... MROWR, and he let her go, side-stepping, sliding down to his knees, and waiting for her. "-wo three, one two, two, two, three, TURN, come!"

Come.

The word that, once innocent, had now become the utter and complete bane of her existence. No longer the thick white substance that she licked and drank out of her lover's cock, no. Nothing that fun.

It meant, "bring your body to me and fling it down in an uncoordinated heap and break your neck while trying to do a back flip."

But she did it anyway, balancing herself on her heels, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and taking a deep breath as she twisted her body into Pete's arms.

On the beat, Pete grasped his girlfriends sturdy little hips and threw himself backwards, but this time, instead of just tossing her, he spread his knees, plunked down on his ass with his knees still folded under him, and flipped her that way. Oh please, Jesus, please don't let her cream my face with her heel again, come on, Jesus, please lord, please.

Dear Jesus Christ in Heaven, don't let me kill my boyfriend.

Shayla flipped herself, shifting her weight as Pete flipped her, something she'd never done before, and she felt her body flowing smoothly over his head, feet carefully out of the way and she landed on the correct foot, amazingly enough, and was ready for the next step.

Which she never took, of course, because she'd flomped on the floor in shock, not even looking. "Did I brain you?"

Pete was too tired to whoop.

Alright, no he wasn't. He let out a cry of joy and tackled her, in all her dress and shoes, rolling over the floor and laughing in joy. "OH my Jesus fuckin...YOU DID IT! Shayla! Jesus! You did it, you did it perfectly! I'm alright! AHHHH!"

Shayla cracked one eye open. "You're serious? You're okay? I didn't stab my heels through your forehead or your eyes?"

"Almost, but no!" He was still grinning, helplessly, sprawled on the floor with her over him. "Christ, you did it. Please, tell me it wasn't a fluke. I almost broke my back. You did it well? Oh, fuck. Come on, baby, one more time. God, you're beautiful. Come on, once more."

"I have no idea how I did it, but I'm game." She slowly opened her other eye and looked down at him. "All I did was pray to God that I didn't kill you, and then I just let you go. By the way?" She kicked him in the shin gently. "That's for shifting me around like that."

"Shifting?" He asked it, with another big smile, and reached up to kiss her warmly as he ran a hand, an appreciating hand, down her back, across her ass and thighs, under the expensive dress. "Come on, get up. One more time. Lets just practice the flip. The other steps you've got down. Come on, once more, kay?"

"Yes, shifting. But, it worked, cause I just slid over you, and let me tell you? Terrified."

He carefully rose to his feet, with her in his arms, helping her down with a click of heels. He dusted his pants off, the simple polo shirt, a vivid, pale green, over his black slacks, and he got on his knees again, grinning at her. "Shay, you flipped over me like a fuckin' swan, baby. I could see it, it was beautiful. This is the last step you've got. That's it. How's the dress feel to dance in?"

"Like I'm hauling around five pounds of pink taffeta."

"Its mauve, and you look hot as hell. I mean...lookit this." He reached up and pressed a soft kiss between little warm breasts, which looked much bigger in the skin tight top, and yeah, he wasn't teasing, no. "Come on. And the last flip, the one where I pick you up and spin you... felt alright with the dress?"

"Oh, yeah. Once you get over the whole fear of flashing the entire judging board? Feels just fine." She twitched her shoulders and rubbed the corset over his nose.

"You're not flashing anybody." Pete snickered, evilly. "That's what the taffeta is for." Another lick of warm skin peaking out from the top of all the silky materiel and he leaned back. "Come on, flip over me."

"Can I get you to sign a waiver that says if my spike heels spike through your head, I'm not to be held responsible?" But, she got in position for the flip. "And if you drop me on my head? My heels're goin' up your ass."

"I know. I've already considered a heeluptheassectomy, and I think my insurance covers it." He grinned up at her, and without another word, grasped her hips, plunked on his ass, and leaned back, so her feet could hands could touch the floor and flip over him. He made a quiet grunting noise as he felt something very... nice pop in his back, which actually felt great, and he lifted her little hundred pound body over him.

Her weight shifted again, just as it had the first time, and she flipped over him, landing on the proper foot again.

"Alright." He smiled backwards at her, before turning his upper body around to grin. "Alright. Alright, Shay... progress. We'll practice more tomorrow, whatcha think?"

"Oh, thank God. The taffeta is itching me in places I can't mention." She shifted, and started squirming out of it. "I think that's a great idea." She flashed a grin at him. "Aren't you sorry now you asked me to be your partner? You could have had Helena whats-her-face and no split lips." Her eyes were twinkling teasingly.

He snickered. "Helena has nothing on my baby." A beam at her, as he finally climbed to his feet and pulled off his aching shoes. Whitney Houston and her damned song came OFF for the day, thank Jesus, and he quickly gathered their things out of the Luthors gym. It was huge, had a full basketball court, and had been the perfect place to practice. They looked good. he knew they did. Last night, when they'd practiced here as well, he'd video taped them, and today, when he'd seen it... they looked good. They looked so, so good.

Shay looked good.

Her dress did all the right things, her shoes, in her tall heels, were absolutely.... gaah. He could barely keep his mouth from watering around her.

"Shay?"

Shay was doing the same thing, hopping one foot as she pulled off her heels, and dropped them into the tote bag beside the benches. "Yeah, baby?" she asked, still hopping on her stockinged foot as she looked up at him, unbuckling the second shoe.

"Want to come make love with me?"

Her stockinged foot shot out from under her and she landed on her taffeta-padded ass. "What?"

His lips curved, shyly, as he bent down, tenderly, and offered his hand. "Do you want...to make love with me?"

Shayla took his hand and let him pull her up. "The answer can be formulated in one word... duh." A blink. "But... you sure? I mean... you're okay?"

"I'm okay." He smiled at her again, cause yeah, he was shy as hell, and... they hadn't made love in almost two months. touching, kissing, yeah, but orgasms... no. But here, now, right now, looking at her with her golden hair in the light, her little compact body, her huge heart, her sense of humor... everything about her drove him to distraction, no matter what he did. So… yeah. Yeah. "Most definitely yeah. I want to have you, Shayla."

Shy little blink, then as she ducked her head and concentrated on taking off her other shoe and dropping it in the bag. "Then you can have me," she said quietly.

"Yeah?" He whispered it, softly, as his fingertips came up and gently touched her cheek, her chin, turning her face towards him. "If you want it, Shay."

"Yeah." She grinned at him, just as widely as she could, as she turned to look at him. "I want it, Pete. I want it... a lot. A whole lot, really."

"God. I can't... can't believe... Christ. Alright." He gave a low, long breath because... alright. Sudden fierce arousal, and they had to finish packing their stuff up, and he wasn't going to take her like some bucking animal against the gym side wall. ...A nice thought, but no. Cause... no. So instead he picked up the boom box, the bag with their shoes, and smiled at her, a little shakily. "Come on."

Shayla took the bag from him, and dropped it over her shoulder as she took his hand, and laced their fingers together. "Okay. Let's go." She pressed a feathery-soft kiss on the back of Pete's neck, and hid the blush against his shoulder.

He knew she was pink, he could feel the heat of her skin, and he ever so tenderly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his body as they walked. Through the grand hall, across into the kitchen, which was silent with the late hour. Up the steps with their things, their footsteps silent in their socks, and he carefully, ever so carefully, opened Shayla's bedroom door.

He'd been in there just an hour ago, but now it seemed... different. A different energy, because something was going to happen here that hadn't for a long while, and the excitement buzzed in his ears. He was going to have sex. He, Pete Ross. Sex. With a beautiful, willing, blushing girl.

Christ.

"I feel like a virgin." He whispered to her on a smile, as he set the boom box down beside her closet.

Soft, cute little giggle. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I feel like... like I'm doing something special for the very first time, and it's just... wow." Another shy giggle, and she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder again.

Pete took the bag of their stuff and carefully set it to the side, before finally, finally, concentrating on her. The lights were off but for the soft glow of the bed side lamp, and her body... Christ, her body. Long and lean, firm and supple... lovely. He slid his fingers through all that golden hair, growing long now and so pretty, and kissed her. He kissed her warmly, firmly, deeply, over and over because he could and he wanted to and it gave him such an absolute joy to do it.

Shayla slid her hands up and over his shoulders, cupping the back of his neck as she returned every hungry kiss. Her tongue gently pushed against his, tasting it, trying it, teasing it as she wiggled through the taffeta and shyly raised her body up to rub against Pete's, one little leg hooking through his.

Ohh yes. He dipped down, carefully pushing the dress down off her shoulders so he could lean down, leaving her lovely mouth swollen with his kiss, down to suck on a slender shoulder. He gave it warm, tender kisses, tender kisses as much as he could, and purred, quietly. She tasted like oranges and flowers. It was a haunting taste, one he wanted... again, and again, and again, and he pushed the other strap off her opposite shoulder. His mouth kissed across her chest and up to the other shoulder, as he rubbed her breasts, pressed up high and bound tight with the corset, with his thumb. He stroked over warm peaks straining against silk and groaned, hard. Her reaction. To him.

Shayla whimpered softly, her back arching into the mouth that slid over her shoulders, into the calloused but gentle hand that stroked her breasts.

So different from her own hand, so different from her own nails scraping over the hardening nubs, and she whimpered again, squirming as she pushed her skirt up, so that her legs could pull him against her, and she could raise her panty-covered groin to thrust gently against him.

Her eagerness was driving him wild. She was shivering against him with each stroke of his hand, and because he liked it… loved it, he carefully undid the button and zipper of the full skirt, and let it fall. He carefully, ever so carefully, drew the materiel down from around her breasts and bared them, tight, high, plump, straining against what bound them, and moaned, softly. She looked... Christ. Garter, panties, and the corset.

Wet. Dream.

He moaned, softly, because he was...hard, hard as rock, and he carefully stroked over her body as he took in his fill. Her breasts, down her long body, to the valley which he loved to nestle in, wet and ready already. Purple lacey things that would be replaced by a red velvet thong the night of the competition. He stroked over where they were damp and moist, and whimpered, very very quietly.

The shivers going through her caused her breasts to jiggle lightly under the corset that lifted them, and she trembled as her hands slid over his arms, over his shoulders and down his back.

She was already wet and ready for him, she wanted him, and when he stroked over her panties, she cried out softly, whimpering and pleading with little cries.

A quiet, dark, wolfish smile crossed his lips and Pete leaned down, over her bared breasts, high and tight and straining, and sucked one of the peaked nipples between his lips. Her skin was drawn taut with the corset and it aroused him beyond speech, sucking on the tip like it was his salvation as his fingers, clever, quiet, full of an ache he couldn't remember having for a long time, pressed against the wet cotton and rubbed in warm, rhythmic little circles.

More soft cries as Pete's heavy, hot fingers rubbed against her underwear, feeling the soft scrape of cotton against her wet slit, whimpering softly as she tried to squirm them off. Her nails scraped gently over his back, through the shirt, pulling herself up just enough to suck kisses from his throat and shoulder.

He groaned, quietly, heavily around her nipple, sucking on the tight nub for a moment before he rose up, tangled with her in his arms, and pulled his shirt up and off. It fell with a far away plop, as did the belt of his pants as they hit the floor, and he scooted back with her, arm around her waist. The bed was like a cloud as they fell on it and he groaned, heavily, rolling so she lay over him and he could feast.

He was naked, and she rested her hands on his chest as she leaned over. She tugged away from him for just a minute, licking him instead, kissing his shoulders, nibbling his throat as her swelling breasts slid over his stomach and ribs, then nips to hard little nipples as she straddled his waist.

"Noo," he whispered it, moaned it softly as her body slid down his. He was hard, aching, and she was warm and lovely and alright, the clothes had to go. He carefully, carefully undid the corset from around her breasts, tugging until it came free. He slid it down from around her waist, taking the swatch of silk with it, so her upper body was bare. He filled his hands with red breasts, filled with blood after the pressure was taken off of them, and grasped her around the waist. he rolled, his mouth filled with her, and streaked down her body until his mouth found all the heat and wet and sucked.

"Pete!!" She trembled as he rolled her over again, and then as his mouth slid between her thighs she cried out again, her legs tightening around his head as he licked and teased her, and her fingers scrabbled to find a secure grip in his hair as she stroked it under her fingertips.

He sucked, licking at the cotton steadily even as he drew it to the side. He wanted her to leave it on just for a while longer... the garter was turning him on so much, with the purple swatch under it, and he shuddered, hard, as he drove his tongue into her. She was hot, silky, and she tasted good, like sugar and honey and did he mention good? So good, so very good and his tongue slid over her folds, the underwear stretching as he moved.

She was feeling so hot. So hot, so tight, everywhere. His tongue was filling her little sheath, used now to just her fingers and she squeaked as his tongue licked over her, panting softly, little sucking breaths that told him she was very aroused. Her hips lifted, offering more of herself to him,

Her hands had slid from his hair to her own hips, sliding under her butt and lifting herself up, finding his hands under her and stroking over them as she supported her hips with her hands.

He groaned, softly into her, and he couldn't take it, not anymore, not anymore, nonono. He was done, done doing this and he needed her, needed her now, please god, please. He didn't want to take anything else off… she was his every wet dream, laying here, writhing for him, with the hose and the... uuhnn.

He shoved the panties aside, thanking Christ, or reminding himself to later, that they were stretchy, and lifted himself up enough to kiss her hard as he pressed into her where they lay. No words, no questions, just sheathing himself inside, stopping because it was tight, so tight, and oh, FUCK. He had to stretch her, couldn't hurt her, but he was so aroused he could barely speak. Alright. Alright, do this right.

Doing this right.

He pulled out, whimpering, loudly, and bent down, dragging his tongue where his over heated, boiling cock had been pressing inside, licking over her partially exposed clit as he slid his fingers into her, deep, deep as he could without hurting, and began to stretch.

Shayla squeaked as he finally, thank Christ and every fucking saint in Ireland, finally slid into her. And then nearly died again when he pulled back out, and she shook her head. "Fucking Christ on his wooden cross, Pete! I don't care, please!!!"

"I care. I care." He whispered, whimpered, as his fingers slide into her, deeper, stretching her for his girth. Another finger added, gently stroking them in and out, opening her up, and his cock was fire against his belly as he stretched her body open for him. "Can't hurt, can't hurt, love you, Shay, Shay."

"I love you too, Pete. I have been thinking about nothing but this, please... I just want you, I need you, please... forget about fingers, or toes, or anything else, just your cock, buried as deep in me as it can go, please!!" Her hands dug eagerly into his shoulders. "Please."

Control.

Shot.

He moaned, loudly, because hearing her beg just… it drove him wild, wild with need and arousal and he leaned up and foreword, kissing her as hard as he could as he cupped her face, laying her back, gently on the pillows, gently as he slid his fingers from her. "Dont b-beg, please, don't beg, I'm here. Don't beg, don't... uh, god, don't beg." he took hold of his cock, hissing at the heat in it, and fixed himself to her entrance. He pressed it, whimpering loudly, pressed into her and almost sobbed with the pleasure of it.

Shayla licked his lips, sucking his tongue, teeth scraping across the wide lips as she sucked herself off of them even as she opened up to his kiss. Hard, loud sucks and kisses as she thrust against him, whimpering and pleading as he muttered to her, and her legs spread wide, lifting her hips up just so, and his entry was a burning stretch that had never felt so good in her entire life.

He whimpered, moaning in agonized pleasure as he pressed in deeper, the tight, hard squeeze of her like nothing he'd ever felt. He pressed in as hard, as deep, as much as he could, and whimpered in pleasure as he lay there, sheathed inside of her, with her whispers and cries in his ear. She felt good, so good, so good and he couldn't stop himself the first thrust, out before coming in hard, too hard. He whimpered an apology and went slower, slower, but he had to move because the heat was like an inferno ready to catch him to fire and burn him alive.

It wasn't too hard, and she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him into her depths. Wasn't too hard at all, and she did everything she could to tell him that. Sucked hard on his earlobe, nibbled it sharply, licked over his throat and behind his ear, whimpered as he slowed down. "Don't slow down," Shayla whispered in his ear. "Please don't."

"D... uh... don't want to hurt you, don't... want to hurt you Shay." Pete grunted, hard, as he let his hips drive a little harder, a little deeper. He was unspeakably aroused, moving for the lovely joy of it, and he groaned hard as he bent and sucked on her breast, perky little nipple going over and over his tongue as he rocked them. Sweat had begun to slicken his skin, his eyes, dripping, sharing their bodies together in an age old dance that had him crying out in pleasure.

More squeaks of absolute delight as his mouth tugged at her nipples, and she rocked up to meet his every thrust. Her legs still hooked around his hips, and she let herself slide along her lover's body on the sheen of sweat as she pulled up to stroke her hands over the back of his head. "You're not, you're not hurting me, feels so good, Pete, so long, feels so fucking good."

"Good, good, so good," Rambling. Knew it. Didn't give a royal fuck. He was thrusting into her, she was rubbing and rocking to meet him and they were making love and oh Jesus Christ. He let out a hard, dark, short wail as her fingers moved over him, and he couldn't help it. Her body was so hot and tight, his cock was so hard, and he sped up, whimpering as he moved over her. Their bodies slicked with sweat, the fact that they weren't going to stop just making it all feel so good and had he mentioned it felt good? it felt so fucking good that he could barely breath. "Shay, Shay, so good Shay, so good, oh, uh, God!"

Shayla was fighting to breathe. Her chest was so tight with this beautiful, wonderful feeling, she was choking every breath, panting softly as she sucked air in. Her arms couldn't touch him enough, her hands couldn't slid fast enough over his skin, and she couldn't rock fast enough to keep up with him.

She pushed herself up, hands going to the bed to lift her torso up, rubbing her breasts against his chest, her mouth sucking his throat, licking over the thick cords as she slurped the sweat and sex off his skin, and she cried out in pleasure as each stroke penetrated her deeper.

Oh, fuck. When she lifted up his hands came around her, holding her tightly to his body, and he rolled over. He was hot, so hot, so ready to come but he wanted to take it slow, he wanted to enjoy the hot pleasure of her body and his and what they could make between them. So he lay back, sprawling her over him, his orgasm a sweet offering as he panted, chest heaving, his fingers running over her slick, wet body. Her panties, drawn to the side just so, and he reached behind her, tearing them off in one fell tug. The ragged pieces fell to the ground beside him and his fingers, finally, finally, slickened themselves with her wet heat, and went searching for the back entrance.

She squealed as she leaned forward, hands moving to brace on his chest as the corset tugged her body and pushed her breasts up to spill over the top, and she spread her knees so that she spread out further on top of him, facilitating his search as she tried her hardest not to buck her hips and ride him wildly. She dug her nails into his shoulder, licking at his mouth and kissing sharply as she pushed back hungrily against his fingers as she situated herself on his cock in this new position.

He groaned, hard, pressing his fingers into her as deeply as he could, and leaned up, just a little, to suck on her breasts. She was hot, an inferno, and he was aware of the noises he was making. Sort of. He was aroused beyond speech, and all he could do was pant, and grin at her, as he lay back. "For you. D... do with me, what you will."

She grinned ferally at him then, and sat up straight, her hands going to brace on his thighs as she leaned back, pushing his fingers deeper into her backside as she arched her body, displaying her chest and her slit, stretched wide over his cock, for his perusal.

Then she started moving. She dug her nails into his thighs as she pulled herself up and slid back down, leaving his cock slick and glistening with her secretions as her nipples rubbed against the wire and ruffles of the corset. The garters that held her stockings up rippled as her thighs hugged his waist, and they rubbed her skin with every motion.

Oh "Fuck," Came the long, heavy moan. She was gorgeous, so gorgeous, so outrageously unbelievable gorgeous, and he couldn't help panting, his smile caught in it. The grin twisted out into a long moan, body thrusting up as he slid his fingers out of her and grasped her hips, tightly, because he couldn't take it. Couldn't take it, when she was moving over him just like that, and he pulled his knees up for her to rest against should she need it. His body was wide open, shivering and aching, and she was giving him pleasure like he hadn't known for a long, long time. A pleasure free of guilt or pain, and he cried out, in ecstasy, arching up to slam into her without meaning to. "Please, Shay, please!"

She didn't stop moving, just let her head and back rest against his upraised knees, hair falling over to tickle and tease his shins as she rode him. "Please what, baby?" she asked, panting, pushing his length deep inside her even as he thrust up against her.

"Please, please, PLEASE!" It was all he could say as he let out another sharp wail and twisted his hips. She was squeezing, doing something evil Chloe had to have shown her and he wailed, loudly, because his balls were boiling. "Please, Shay, please!"

Yep. Chloe had told her. Told her how to arch just so on every stroke. Told her how to squeeze down hard as she could with every pound. And then told her to go ask Lex for more little tricks. "Please let you come?" She leaned forward then, taking her hands off his thighs and putting them back on his shoulders as she rode, her hair falling around her face to bounce over her breasts. "You can come anytime you want, baby." Then she dragged two fingers over his lips, waiting for his tongue to lick them. Once they were wet by his tongue, she slid them between her legs, and started rubbing her wet fingertips over her clit.

Pete lost it. He lost his it, Shay's it, and he was sure, if he had been conscious, half of Smallville's it. Because as he sucked her fingers, and she brought them down to rub right where he was moving, he lost his mind. She was doing something she hadn't done before and later he'd throttle Chloe or kiss her, but for now he let out a sharp, hard, loud wail and began to jerk with encroaching orgasm. His jaw locked as he thrust into her, harder, faster, the veins in his neck and shoulders tense as he fought to come, fought to come, fought to come.

And then he came, and that was all she wrote.

It came out of him in buckets, so it felt. He came forever, and then after forever he came a little more, his body emptying out of his cock as his entire body shuddered in exquisite, fine tipped, jabbing pleasure. It bled out from his crotch all over his body, until he felt it in the tips of his toes and the top of his scalp, which goosebumped along with the rest of his body.

Oh, God.

Shayla kept rubbing herself, rolling her clit between her fingers right until she felt him coming. When she felt it, she slammed down hard on his cock, squeezing the pulsing organ with her sheath as she came, their juices mixing inside her and running down her thighs, staining the lacy tops of her stockings as she kept him inside her, sucking every spurt deep into her body even as she twitched, each of her throbs contracting her muscles around him and milking out another spurt.

He was shaking hard as he felt her squeezing and milking him and oh, God, his baby had to have cheated on him cause no way this could feel this good, this amazing, from his little virgin. Or Chloe had showed her, which made him shudder all the harder, ringing a hard, shivering, clenched cry from his mouth as he pushed up into her again, once more, harder as he rolled his orgasm out.

Oh. Fuck.

He was shaking. Alright? Shaking. He lost all place and time, could do nothing but gather her close and roll over with her, so they were nestled in their heat together. He was shivering and shaking with pleasure, with a fine, sharp, aching pleasure, and he whimpered into her neck, finally. "Sh..."

Her arms slid around his neck and held him, cradling him close to her. "It's okay, baby. I'm here." She rained little kisses on his cheek and jaw, breathing softly in his ear. "I love you, baby. It's okay."

"Lo-love... fuck... love you, Christ, fucking... Hell, Jesus," He garbled into her throat, panting heavily as he brought her even closer. Except he wanted her naked skin, her naked skin against his, and with shaking fingers he tugged the corset off, then the garter, peeling the pantyhose down her legs and dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. He dragged her close, closer, tangling their wet legs and uhhhhnnnnn.

She helped wiggle out of the sexy clothes, rubbing her thigh between his and nestling close and dropping her head onto his forearm, smirking up at him as she licked his lip.

"Wh... what... h-how?" he whimpered, shuddering all over again because yeah, she'd blown. Him. Away. Literally!

"Lex," she said with a little giggle.

Alright. So maybe in that moment, he didn't totally loathe the guy. Maybe he loved him. ...A lot. "L-Lex?" Don't ask if she cheated, Pete. "H… how?"

"I asked him a few questions, he told me, and then he gave me videos. They're still under the bed." Little beam into his throat.

"G-good videos." A hard croak as he buried her closer, shuddering hard as he kissed her neck, her throat, her lips, her ear. Licked and kissed all over him, gentle touches and kisses, and he purred softly, joyously, murmuring in pleasure. He tugged the thick blankets up over their body, sweat slick but cooling, and grinned into her throat.

"I wanted to make sure I was good for you. When you were ready."

"Always good. Think you sucked out my spleen."

A titter. "Hope you don't need the spleen for anything later."

"Just a spleen." He muttered from her neck, as his body, dark and warm, cuddled her up close to him. "I love you, Shayla Senatori."

Her milky white body twined around his, cuddling and burrowing into his skin. "I love you, Peter Ross."

"Ain't never gonna let you go." He muttered, cause yeah, maybe he was already falling asleep. Possibly. Not that he'd ever, ever say he was the kind to fuck and roll over. No. He didn't roll, he held his girl.

"No... you're not." She left her head on his shoulder, because she knew him, and knew he was tired out. "You're not ever going to get rid of me. I promise you that."

"Feel good." He muttered, and held her closer, closer still. "Gonna have to go lay a smacker on Lex's mouth 'morrow."

Another giggle. "Better make sure Clark don't catch you mackin' on his boyfriend." She slid up just enough to put her own kiss on Pete's mouth. "There. You can give him one from me too."

Yeah, well. She kissed him, and Pete had no choice but to drag her in and kiss her, harder, deeper, with all the passion and love he felt for her, the pride and joy he felt in her, and yeah, had he mentioned the love part?

Shayla grinned into the kiss, and she returned it just as enthusiastically as she could, sliding her hands over his chest and shoulders and undulating her lower body against him as she bit and nibbled his lower lip. "Welcome back, baby," she whispered softly.

- = - = -

Gabe was making scrambled eggs.

Or, at least that was the intention. He was currently beating the eggs with a bit more ferocity than strictly necessary, and the frying pan was hot and ready for the eggs to be poured in.

But they weren't ready yet.

Gabe's whisk shot through the eggs like a hot knife through butter.

He'd gone upstairs to wake Chloe and Whitney up for breakfast before school, and he'd gotten a rather rude shock to find the two of them sleeping in Chloe's bed together. Granted they were both fully dressed, Chloe curled under the blankets while Whitney was on top of them, but it was still more than he wanted to see going on under his roof.

The whisk beat faster and faster.

It meant, also, that Whitney seemed to have made some kind of a breakthrough, and the bandages across the boy's face and knuckles seemed to have told him exactly what kind of breakthrough he'd had.

The eggs were all but crying out for mercy.

He expected them downstairs any second.

The alarm had rung, rudely. How dare it, wake her from a perfectly good sleep? But it had, twenty minutes ago, and Chloe had rolled over to find her boyfriend cuddled up behind her.

Christ, she loved it.

They'd stood together in the shower, for the first time in ever. Her tummy was rounder and fuller than she was letting on, but all he'd done was rub it softly with his warm fingers and cuddle her and oh, God.

The memory of only a few minutes ago had her grinning, softly, and looking up from her vanity. Just... grinning, like a big dweeb, as she finished fastening her earrings on. Capri's and a blousy, strapless scoop neck, a short sleeve button down in pretty, cheerful pale colors buttoned on over it. She slid into white sandals as she climbed to her feet, and leaned down to give his wet hair a kiss. He was still half dressed, half asleep, the slow poke, and she grinned at him once before slipping out the door.

"Mmm. Dad, I can smell waffles from up here!"

Whitney... just sort of grunted. The shower had done nothing to wake him up, and he was struggling into jeans sitting on the side of Chloe's bed. He finally gave up, tossed them over the foot of her bed, and padded down the hallway in his underwear to his bedroom.

He dug through his closet and pulled out his oldest, most comfortable pair of jeans, pulled them on, shoved his feet into half-tied tennis shoes, made sure his watch was still on, and then hunted for a shirt.

He went through half his closet before pulling a green polo over his head, and his fingers spiked his still-damp hair.

Gabe just rolled his eyes, finally letting the poor eggs have their peace as he dumped them onto the hot skillet. "Sure can, baby!" he called out. "And I have maple syrup too, eggs are cooking, and the bacon's in the microwave!"

The pot of Irish coffee was sitting on the back burner and the coffeemaker was just finishing brewing a pot of plain coffee.

Why her father was cooking like they were expecting a cavalry, she'd never know, but Chloe plinked in her tiny little sandals down the steps with a soft sigh. It smelled like sin everywhere in their house, delicious sin at that, and she peaked into the kitchen to watch her father, suit in place, starting some eggs. "Hey, good morning. Want me to help?"

"Yeah, you can pour some juice, and the toast should be popping up any second," he said cheerfully, stabbing at the poor eggs in the skillet as he flipped and scrambled them. "Where's Whitney?"

"Trying to peel himself out of the shower." She grinned it, around a bite of toast she pulled up out of the toaster and into her mouth. She crunched cheerfully, taking out the three other pieces, and replacing the empty toaster with four more. "What's all the food for, dad?"

"Well, you're a growing girl, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day." He kissed her forehead as she brushed past him, and he dumped the eggs out into a little platter. "I'm hoping all the food will bring out the field hand that Whitney seems to have lost lately--boy's looking a little haggard and skinny around the edges and his mama would kick my ass for not taking good care of him."

Whitney clunked down the stairs in his half-tied tennies and untucked shirt. "Smells good," was his only comment, plunking himself down in one of the chairs. "Coffee?" he asked hopefully.

Alright. Heee. He looked so cute, sitting there, half dressed, only one eye peeled open, and she leaned down to kiss his hair before setting a plate with two pieces of toast, five pieces of bacon, four sausages, and the eggs, which she took from her father as soon as he finished, came next, swept quickly onto his plate. She did the same for her dad and herself, without thinking, and kept right on chattering like everything were normal. "Breakfast is actually the worst meal of the day. Eat a lot, sleep through class. Though, I haven't had to sleep much lately, everyone's been babying me like I'm going to have this baby tomorrow. Jeez. I'm like, 'guys, its another five months away', but does anyone listen to me? Nooo."

Whitney's other eye peeled open.

Food. Had actually never smelled this good before, and he dug in. Like he'd never eaten before. The five slices of bacon got wrapped up in one of the toast slices and inhaled. The sausages were next, disappearing between bites of egg and sips of orange juice.

By the time Chloe turned back around, Whitney's plate was clean.

Gabe glared at his little girl. "It's the most important meal of the day, because it gets you filled up and started out right, and for the love of Mike, will you please stop fluttering and sit down before you hurt yourself!!" He had the coffeepot in hand, but he stopped short at Whitney's clean plate.

She grinned, cause she'd known he'd do it, and just shook her head, setting the second plate she'd made for her boyfriend down in front of him, took his empty one, and filled it with food for herself. "You're just as bad as they are, dad. Jeez. Clark's the worst, he flutters like a ninety year old woman." She sipped her own juice, and began to smother her scrambled eggs with ketchup.

"You're killin' those eggs," Whitney muttered through another mouthful of sausage. "Mr. Sullivan, this is great." He held his coffee cup out with the hand not shoveling food into his mouth.

Gabe just blinked, and poured the coffee out of habit as he stared. "The lumberjack is back. Mornin', Whitney. You seem to be feelin' better."

"Yes, sir, I am. A lot better."

Chloe grinned. Yeah. It was cause of her, and was she only a little proud? Hell no, she was totally proud, and she beamed at her father as she ate at a much slower, much less consuming, rate. "Dad, you should see him and Clark together. Lex has told me once that they could eat someone out of house and home in no time."

"I can believe it. Whitney? Should I make another round of eggs and sausage for you?"

"No, this is great, Mr. Sullivan, thanks. I'm going to be stopping by the Talon before school anyway for a latté, and I'll grab a couple muffins or something." Whitney paused long enough to drain his coffee cup.

Something Chloe had said earlier was just registering with Gabe as he sat down at his chair and watched Whitney eat. "Chloe?" he asked, turning his head to face his daughter. "Did you just..." He let the question trail off as he flipped his eyes towards the blond boy.

Her lips spread. Yeah. She'd been waiting for him to get it, and her dear dad sometimes took a minute or two to get it, but yeah. She crossed her legs, grinning as she ate another forkful of eggs, and wriggled her brows. "I told him last night, dad."

Well. Gabe blinked. That was a new development. "I see. How--"

"I actually already knew, I just let her know that," Whitney interrupted, swallowing the last of his toast with a gulp of orange juice to wash it down. "I let her know how thrilled I was." He reached out for the hand that was closest to him, that just happened to be her left hand.

She squeezed his hand, tightly in her own, and smiled, shyly, at her lover. "He knew, and he came and told me… yeah. He was so happy, and then… well, then I was happy, and we just had a great evening. Oh! Dad, tonight is Pete's surprise party, okay?" She tipped her head. "Don't eat anything in the fridge. That means cake, cookies, or cup cakes. I didn't have a chance to run them over to the Luthors, so keep sticky fingers off!"

Gabe sighed. "Sit out what you want me to take over there, and I'll drop it off on the way to the factory," he said.

And then he choked.

Because unless he was going senile about twenty years prematurely, there was a very glittery diamond on his daughter's hand.

"Dad!" She climbed to her feet quickly because oh, God! She thumped him on the back as her chair clattered back, leaning over the table to thunk him, hard. "Dad! Jesus, are you okay?? Dad!" Another few rapid thuds of the base of her palm, to dislodge something that might have caught in his throat. "Jesus, Christ!"

"You... you... ring... hand... you... you..." He was wheezing it, sure.

Oh.

Ohhh.

Wince.

Chloe flinched and winced at Whitney for a moment, before back down, at her poor, dear pops. "Yeah...Whitney sort of...I...well, we're getting married."

Married.

Hell on Earth.

Same thing, really.

Gabe got up and went to the liquor cabinet. Ever since Chloe's suspension? He'd been needing a drink. He uncapped a bottle of scotch, took a pull, locked the cabinet back up, and then walked back into the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table. "Congratulations."

She wanted to laugh. Really, she did. She felt it bubble up in her throat. Instead? All she did was go around the table, slide into his lap, and hug him, tightly, around the neck. "You can say what you want to say, dad. Its not like we're getting married tomorrow."

Gabe sighed again, very very deeply, and put his arms around his little girl and carefully hugged her back. "Y'know, I used to think putting a book on your head to keep you from growing up was a stupid idea. I'm starting to seriously reconsider that."

Whitney cleared his throat. "Mr. Sullivan? Just so you know... I told Chloe last night that I'm going apartment hunting this weekend. Because I'm going to sell the house, and look for a place of my own now."

She smiled as she hugged him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek for good measure. "Yeah, he is, dad." Which was all she said, as she gave him another tight hug, before climbing up to her slightly wobbly feet and came around again to sit with Whitney. "Something not so big, dad."

"Just... big enough for me." A quick dart of his eyes over to Chloe. "For us, really. A bedroom... a room that we can make a nursery for the baby... living room, kitchen. The basics. Lex said that he can get me a good deal on some of the new places that they built, so... if it's not too much trouble, I'd be glad if you and Chloe could come with me. Help me find a nice place, because I've never done this before. And I need all the help I can get."

Chloe smiled, softly, and gently rubbed her fingers through her lovers hair, straightening it a little, blushing, and yeah, going back down to her eggs. This was manly talk, of men, and she let them believe for now that they were actually in charge as she got up to refill their coffee.

Gabe studied Whitney long and hard for several moments, sipping his refilled coffee. Finally, he sighed and put the cup down. "All right, Whitney. I'll help you. I'll even give you some advice first off. Don't go for one of the standalone houses or apartment buildings. Go for one of the converted houses. A studio, if you can get it."

Whitney nodded. "Yeah. There's a couple of old warehouses around the plaza that Lex built into studios. They're all two-bedrooms, and they're self-contained; don't even share a driveway or anything, they're like... little condos."

Gabe nodded. "That's what you need. You need something like that, that's already established, to get you started. It shouldn't be that much, and if it is... I've got key money that I was going to give to Chloe next year, when she got out of high school, that I'll give you now, so you can make it."

Her excitement grew, hot and heavy, in her middle. Her dad was agreeing. Her dad was going to help them build their lives. Okay. Oh. Something hot and lovely filled her tummy, something other than food... a warmth of family, family, and she looked up, tears in her eyes that she couldn't contain and had no hope in stopping. She was outrageously, unbelievably... happy, because her dad was finally, finally okay with her making her life's decisions and here came the tears.

Gabe held his arms out to his daughter and pulled her close. "Come here, baby. Come here."

She just cried, all the harder for it, and slid across the chairs again to wrap her arms around him, tightly, and beam and cry and laugh and cry and yeah, crying. "You… trust me, you... you t-trust me, finally."

"Ssssh." He hugged her tightly, and held her close. "Baby, I always trusted you. Always. I'm sorry... I over reacted to my little girl growing up, I'm sorry. I always trusted you to do the right thing."

"I love h-him, so much, I love him and we're... family, and the baby, and... home, and you... you're okay with it, dad, you're okay with us?"

"Of course I am, sweetie." He kissed her on the forehead and hugged her tightly. "You know I am. I can't wait to give my little girl away."

Oh. This was good. This was so good, and she hugged him all the tighter, harder, and sniffled hard as her nose ran a little and her makeup was ruined, but she could care. Less. "I love you, daddy. Thank you, for being understanding."

"I love you, Chloe. I love you more than anything else." He glared at Whitney over Chloe's shoulder. "You don't treat her right, and I will nail your carcass to my wall, are we clear?"

Whitney nodded. "Yes sir, we are."

That was all she needed and Chloe laughed, letting go of her dad to grin at him and roll her eyes. She got his paper napkin and sniffled, rubbing her face clean with it, and giggling helplessly at the glare he was giving her boyfriend. "You guys are much too macho for your own good. Come on, Whitney, we'll be late for class."

"Set out my delivery before you go!" Gabe called out as his daughter slid out of his lap.

Yeah, he was going to have a heart attack before he was fifty. That's just... all there was to it. He'd earned it, after all.

Whitney excused himself from the table and snagged his girlfriend around the waist, kissing her cheek gently. "We are not too macho. Come on, let's go, I'll carry your books."

"Ladies' man." Chloe crooned at him, with a wicked snicker, before she hurried back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Alright dad, cake, cookies, cupcakes." She took each out, carefully, and smiled, happily, broadly, at her father, kissing him, grabbing another piece of toast, and hustling out, little purse over her shoulder, with Whitney.

Gabe waited until the house was empty to thud his head gently against the side of the refrigerator.

-fin-

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