PIXIE BOOTS ANA

You let your eyes wonder over behind the bar, watching the bartenders make quick work of the drinks - lithe fingers cutting fruits and toned arms shaking cocktails in a flurry. Maybe you should quit your job and become a bartender, then you wouldn't have to worry about doing upper body weights.

He was facing you now. If the bar hadn’t been so packed you would have sworn he was staring directly at you.

The sound of your name being called was like a sharp pin loudly popping your balloon of thoughts. A hand darted out to pull you forward.

“This is Jimmy.”

You tore your gaze from the bar to be met with a freckled face grinning at you. His eyes lit up in recognition at the sound of your name.

"Oh don't you know Clark?"

Your eyes followed his hand gesturing towards the other end of the bar.

Your brow furrowed.

You only knew one Clark. And that Clark was a weedy salt of the earth farm boy. He stuck out like a sore thumb. You’d have spotted him from a mile away in here.

“Huh?”

"Clark Kent. Aren’t you both Kansas country bumpkins?”

You turned back to look down the bar.

“He’s ordering us a round.” You followed Jimmy’s finger and froze as you realised who he was pointing at. There was no way. You’d remember if he had a face like that.

As if he’d somehow heard his name over the thrum of the bass, the man turned in your direction again. A familiar smile spread across his lips. A hand raised in awkward greeting.

As if it had been orchestrated, the lights flickered just as he tilted his head, momentarily illuminating his face in a pale pink hue, his features finally on full display.

You blinked.

The strong cut of his jaw, the chisel of his chin, the astute slope of his nose. Someone could have told you that he’d been modelled after a statue of Zeus and you wouldn’t question it.

"Jesus." You murmured.

"What was that?" Jimmy queried.

"Oh I just uh-" You forced yourself to look away. "I haven't seen Clark in years that's all."

You didn't hear Jimmy's response as you did a double take, then a triple take.

"Why don't you go help him bring the drinks over?" Your friend suggested. Even in the dark, you could see a familiar twinkle in her eye. She knew you too well.

"We'll go grab a table. Let you two catch up."

A tipsy chorus of agreement sounded out at the suggestion. Jimmy didn't seem to need any extra encouragement as he eagerly led your friends towards an empty booth before you even had a chance to argue.

"And if you don't take him home to play naked twister, I might have to." You smacked her playfully as she pulled away from your ear. Her loud laughter reverberated through you as she left you to go join the others.

His eyes never left you as you started making your way towards him. Your dress was suddenly too tight, your heels too high, your fingers too fidgety as you started to make your way towards him

His features came more into focus. You remembered those kind eyes so vividly. The perfect shade of blue, with a few gold flecks in them. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

It was definitely your Clark, he'd just doubled in height and width.

Your name left his lips as you reached him. Not a voice crack in sight. The deep reverb of it sent a shiver up your spine.

You were suddenly very grateful that you had liquid courage flowing through your veins as you spoke.

"Hey stranger."

"Hi yourself."

He shot you that same smile that used to lift you out of the foulest of moods.

Careful not to spill your drink, you lent up and wrapped your arms around him. His muscles rippled under your fingertips as he embraced you back. He smelt like a mixture of smoke, bourbon and vanilla.

"So what brings you here-"

"How are you-"

You both laughed as you cut each other off.

"Sorry, you go." Clark apologised, shoving his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose as he gestured for you to continue.

"How are you? I've been reading your articles you know. You're killing it."

Clark smiled shyly. "Thanks, yeah work has been good. Busy. You know Metropolis, always something to write about."

"Yeah never a dull day." You sighed. Your commute to work was interrupted at least once a week with some metahuman wreaking havoc. But you couldn't bring yourself to leave, the chaos was almost addictive.

"What about you?"

"Oh I'm actually working in the marketing department at LutherCorp." An unreadable emotion flashed across Clark's face.

"Marketing huh?"

"It's alright." You shrugged. "Pays the bills."

"I always thought your dream was to be a fashion designer."

You couldn't believe he'd remembered that.

"It was but....I don't know." Another shrug. "Isn't that every girl's dream growing up? No one actually ends up doing it. It's practically impossible."

Clark frowned as you sipped your drink.

"It's not impossible. I remember your designs in school, they were great. You could definitely do it, you just have to believe in yourself."

You looked up at him. If it was anyone else you would have brushed them off, that they were just saying whatever they could to make you feel better.

But this was Clark. The same Clark who had emphatically supported you when you declared that you wanted to be a mermaid when you were seven. He believed everyone on this planet could achieve incredible things. He could convince you that you could fly if he really wanted to.

"I have been thinking about going back to school. Metropolis University has a pretty good fashion program." You admitted. You couldn't believe you were telling him this. You hadn't even told your friends yet.

"You totally should. The fashion world would be lucky to have you.”

This time it was your turn to blush. “Thank you.”

"You still keep in touch with anyone from school?"

"God no." You scoffed. "I only go back home to see my parents." You twirled your straw through your drink as you studied him.

"What about you?"

"Same." Clark nodded.

"Are your parents still up at the farm?"

His smile widened, "yeah they are. They still ask about you, you know."

Your heart warmed. "They were always so kind."

It only felt like yesterday that you were spending nearly every afternoon after school there, running around chasing the cows with Clark as his mum desperately tried to corral you inside for afternoon tea.

"Remember those scones your mum used to make? God they were good."

"She still makes them for me when I visit."

You groaned dramatically, "I'm jealous."

Clark’s laughter was short lived. A pained expression crossed his features.

"I should try and visit them more." Clark sighed, dampening the mood slightly between you two.

"Yeah, me too.” A wave of homesickness washing over you at the thought of your parents.

"They keep trying to get me to come back for the county fair."

Clark chuckled, "Same.”

"Mum rang me last week and told me that I simply had to come this year because they've added an apple bobbing stall. Can you believe it?”

"Well, how could you turn that down?"

You snorted into your drink at his response.

"True, as born and bred Kansas folk, apple bopping is literally in our DNA."

Clark's laughter dissipated after a few moments as he studied you, a smile on his lips.

"You know." He began, taking a sip of his drink. He coughed as the liquid slid awkwardly down his throat. You watched him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot you a sheepish grin before placing his glass down.

"We could always go to the fair together." He said it so casually you nearly missed the way a blush had begun to emerge on his cheeks.

You grinned. "Two city slickers crashing the Smallville county fair would be fun."

"Yeah and you know...it would make our parents happy. And I'd have good company." His eyes locked with yours. "It'd be fun."

You cocked your head slightly as you studied him. "It would be."

Before either of you could say anything further, the bartender plonked two cocktails in front of you.

You looked down at the little pink umbrellas sticking out of them. You looked up at him in amusement.

"Are these....pina coladas?"

"What’s wrong with pina coladas? They're delicious." Clark protested.

You threw your hands up in defence. "I didn't say they weren't!"

Clark shot you a look as he pushed one over to you. "It was meant to be Jimmy's, but I don't think he needs another one."

"Well I'm certainly not going to turn down a free drink." You batted your lashes at him as you picked up your glass and held it up to his.

"To making it out of Smallville."

"And to running into friendly faces." Clark added.

“Cheers to that." You agreed as your glasses clinked together harmoniously.

Your eyes never left his as you pressed the glass to your lips, the eye contact too long to be casual.

His adams apple bopped as he swallowed. His perfectly shaped lips glistened with the remnants of the liquor in his glass. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he focused on not spilling his drink. The reminiscing had made you momentarily forget just how gorgeous he was. You could stare at his face all day, you decided.

"Is there something on my face?"

Shit, you had actually been staring.

"No." You answered quickly.

"Are you sure?"

You frowned, "Yes. Why?"

"It's just- I don't know." He looked at you sheepishly. "You keep giving me this weird look. I thought maybe I had pineapple in my teeth or something."

The laugh slipped out before you could stop it at the sight of his puzzled, innocent face. You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle your giggles. Your reaction only made him look even more like a confused puppy.

"Sorry I'm not laughing at you it's just-" You cut yourself off as you tried to level out your voice. He looked at you expectantly.

The assorted mixture of alcohols swirling around in your stomach helped you blurt out your next words.

"When did you get hot?"

Even the dark lighting couldn't conceal the violent crimson that bloomed across his face at your words. He couldn't be nervous at that, could he? Surely he didn’t get shy anymore when he looked like this. He'd have girls throwing themselves at him constantly.

"You- you think I'm... hot?"

A vision of young Clark flashed before you. Sweet, nervous, awkward, bumbling. He may look different, but he hadn't changed one bit.

It made you want to rip his clothes off even more.

"Are you kidding me? You look like Superman or something."

You took a sip of your drink, missing the way he flinched.

"S-superman? Why do you say that?"

You peered up at him over your cocktail glass. "Clark." You gestured to his body. "You look like you could lift my car up with your hand."

"Oh." His blush deepened.

"Seriously I cannot believe I didn't see the vision in school."

"Well, I was a pretty ugly kid."

"You were not!" You protested.

"Kids at school certainly thought so." He remarked.

Your mood faltered. Clark had gone through a rough time before puberty hit, especially with the other boys. Unfortunately, most country kids weren't raised to be accepting of people who were different. And in Smallville, being gentle, sensitive and selfless almost to a fault as a young boy was practically unforgivable.

"Kids are jerks."

"You weren't." Clark countered. "You always stood up for me."

"You would have done the same." You brushed it off, trying to ignore the way your heart raced under his gaze.

"And you were never ugly you were just..." You trailed off as you studied him. "I don't know you were just Clark, kind and sweet Clark. But now you're..."

Clark's eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well now you're kind and sweet and also really hot Clark.”

He laughed at your explanation, his nerves visibly dissipating as he studied you intently.

"And no one's going to look their best in school anyway." You gestured to yourself to illustrate your point.

Clark shook his head. "You don't count."

"Why not?"

"Because." He slung the rest of his drink down his throat. "You've never had an ugly phase."

You tried to hide the effect his words had on you. "I don't know about that. Remember my side ponytail phase in sixth grade?"

"I do. And your emo phase in year seven. And your Mighty Crabjoys phase in sophmore year."

"The Mighty Crabjoys were not a phase, thank you. They still rock."

Clark looked at you like you'd hung the moon in that moment.

"You're beautiful. You always have been." His words came out softly. Almost reverently, like he was saying a prayer.

You looked up at him, your lips slightly parted as you tried to rack your brain for a response. It was like you'd forgotten how to speak.

You couldn't believe out of all the bars in Metropolis, you'd ended up at the same one as him. That he was the one person who had made you feel more alive in the last twenty minutes than any guy had ever made you feel in your whole relationship. You were't religious by any means, but it almost felt like divine intervention.

"Oh sorry." The liquor swished dangerously close to the lip of your glass as someone accidentally bumped into you.

The moment between you two shattered, allowing you a brief respite to collect your senses off the floor.

"It's busy huh?" You observed lamely after a few moments of silence passed. Great one.

"Yeah it is." Clark glanced around before looking back down at you. “You know.” He cleared his throat, "I know a pretty good pizza place down the road. It's usually not too busy, if you wanted to maybe go somewhere quieter to-"

"Yes." You answered, probably a little too eagerly. But you were too entranced to care. "I'd like that.”

A knee-weakening smile split across Clark's face. "Great.”

He twisted around to look in Jimmy's direction. "I don't think our friends are going to miss us."

You followed his gaze. Jimmy was seated in the middle of the booth, your friends huddled up to him like nesting birds desperate for warmth. They were giggling and hanging on to his every word, like he was a messiah spouting gospel.

"What the..."

"It's best you don't ask." Clark sighed, "I gave up a long time ago."

You shook your head in disbelief, letting your eyes linger on the sight for a few moments before turning to look at him.

"Shall we?"

You glanced down to see his large palm extended out for you. An invitation that you were more than happy to take.

You nodded, letting your hand slide into his. It was warm, and ever so slightly clammy. It entwined perfectly with yours. “Us hot country bumpkins have to stick together, right?”

His laugh intermingled with yours. “Right.”

In that moment, you knew.

Clark squeezed your hand and smiled down at you, like he knew it too.

This was what being properly touched felt like.