Title: Displacement
Author: Carmarthen (lacorneille@earthlink.net)
Fandom/Pairing: Smallville; Chloe/Lana
Disclaimer: They belong to the WB, not me.
Rating: PG-13 for a bit of f/f kissing and lusting
Spoilers: None that I'm aware of -- futurefic.
Warnings: f/f slash, underage drinking, and ID-falsification
Summary: Lana comes back after her freshman year of college different and Chloe comes back different and they find more in common than they'd thought.
Archive: Yes to Small Town Girls, my personal site (http://thewritegirls.populli.net/carmarthen), others ask.
Notes: A (very late, and thus presumably unqualified) response to the Hazy Shade of Indian Summer Luvvins Challenge. I managed to include everything but the het. Like Acetone, I wrote the first draft in October '02, after seeing the first two or three episodes of season two. Due to circumstances beyond my control, it didn't get finished until February '03, and I have still not seen most of season two. This one is definitely horribly jossed by S2. This is why I don't write TV-based fic -- the eminent Jossability of everything freaks me out.

Thanks to Joanne Collins and Ayelet (cicelian) for betaing

Displacement

Lana found that outside of Smallville, no one knew about her parents. She wasn't the girl with the dead parents, the one people pitied and whispered about. She wasn't a fairy princess anymore, and she wasn't one half of some silly high school golden couple. There was no comfortable role to fall into, so she had to make her own. Almost the first thing Lana did in college was get her hair cut, a sleek, elegant fall to just below the point of her jaw. She was tired of being just Lana-with-the-pretty hair. When she got back to Smallville, people almost forgot to recognize her, then asked with horrified, sugary voices why. It was so beautiful. Lana found herself resisting to urge to tell them that it still was beautiful, just different. You should grow it out again. She smiled, gently told them No, I'm not going to grow it out again, and went on with her life. It was her hair, not theirs.

Chloe came back from college the first summer wearing a square-shouldered leather jacket with sleeves a bit too long that made her look three years older and with a bottle of vodka she wasn't old enough to buy in the bottom of her bag. She'd tried smoking a few times, and once she told Lana it was because that was what investigative reporters did, at least in the movies, but now she only smoked when she was nervous.

When she saw Lana's hair, she just smiled and said, "Nice haircut." Chloe understood about reinventing oneself, Lana thought, and smiled back. She felt a kinship with Chloe now: they had left, and changed beyond Smallville, and no one knew it.

Little else changed. Lana had her summer job at the Talon, Chloe was busy photographing everything in sight. They smiled when they passed each other in the street, and Lana always brought Chloe's non-fat no-foam latte without having to ask, but they didn't suddenly become best friends.

And why should they? Lana asked herself. The fact that they were both strangers here now wouldn't erase years of high school wariness, trying to be friends while treading carefully around the dangerous areas. Best friends was silly, anyway. They were beyond that.

Chloe showed up on Lana's porch one night in late summer. It had been hot and dry that day, but the cool breeze blowing from the east smelled like rain and autumn and made Chloe's thin white tanktop cling to her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra (in Smallville, the bravery of which both shocked and delighted Lana), and she was wearing a blue vinyl miniskirt, high-heeled black boots, and her now-eternal leather jacket.

"I'm bored," Chloe proclaimed, flashing a smile at Lana and dangling a set of car keys from one hand. Her manicured nails were gold, and her lipgloss had silver sparkles. It looked lickable. Lana was so shocked at her thought that she forgot to blush, and she sought out something to think about, anything but how Chloe's lipgloss would taste. "Want to drive to Metropolis with me?"

"Drive to Metropolis?" Lana repeated. Smooth, Lana. That sounded really intelligent.

"Sure. It's summer and I'm missing civilization. There's this club I know about--"

"Aren't we a bit young to get in?"

Chloe grinned again. "Already thought of that." She held up a couple cards that looked suspiciously like fake IDs, and her voice turned conspiratorial. "Come on; it'll be fun."

Lana found herself smiling back, feeling oddly warm. Well, she had always wanted to be friends with Chloe, hadn't she? Maybe now she would be. "Okay. Let me get ready."

"Um."

"Yes?"

"Please tell me you have something in your closet besides sweater sets and designer jeans."

Lana laughed. "Of course. Come help me pick what to wear."

"Wondered at by many, but unseen by the lowly masses: Lana Lang's closet. I'm getting all shivery."

"Shh. You'll wake Nell," Lana said, trying not to laugh. She grabbed Chloe's hand to pull her inside and up the stairs. Chloe's hand was warm and slightly callused against hers, and Lana wondered with sudden discomfort why she didn't want to let go. She did anyway, and gestured towards her closet. "Have at it."

Chloe flung open the door to the closet and posed dramatically. "The Eighth Wonder of the World," she said. "Jesus, Lana. You've enough pink to drive anyone mad."

Lana reached past Chloe, trying not to flinch when she brushed against the smooth skin of Chloe's bare shoulder, and pushed the clothes aside. "I think you want to look in the back," she said.

Chloe's eyebrows went up. "Wow. It's your inner bitch in clothing form." Leather pants, silver lamé tanktop, rhinestone stilettos all went on the bed. They looked wrong on the lacy pink bedspread, and Lana felt suddenly out of place in her own life. "Did you ever actually wear this stuff?" Chloe asked.

Lana blushed. "Yeah, once. To a dance."

"Lana Lang has hidden depths. Who'd've guessed it?"

Lana smiled again to cover her confusion. "Chloe--" She stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Do you even like me?"

Chloe reappeared from the closet and looked at Lana seriously for a moment. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't. It's just--" She shook her head.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just have an overdeveloped sense of sarcasm. It doesn't mean anything."

"Okay," Lana said, but it wasn't, not really. Chloe had left her with more questions, if she could figure out what they were.

"Oooh! Can I borrow this?" Chloe asked, holding up a lacy black shirt.

"Sure."

Chloe dropped her jacket on the bed. She pulled her tanktop over her head in one smooth motion. "Thanks," she mumbled, her words muffled by the fabric.

Lana was too busy staring intently at the wall to notice.

"How do I look?"

Lana turned and saw Chloe standing there in the blue vinyl skirt and nearly-transparent black lace shirt. Her breath caught in her throat. "Um. It's...revealing?" She was aware of blushing hotly, and laughed nervously to cover. It sounded fake even to herself.

"That's the idea, Lana."

"Oh. You look great," Lana managed to say. Automatic words, all too sincere.

Chloe drove with the window open, her blonde hair bouncing in the breeze. They listened to Joan Jett all the way to Metropolis (Chloe blamed it on her roommate) and Chloe sang along, forming the words with sparkly lips. Lana watched out of the corners of her eyes and sang along when she knew the words and wondered what she really felt about Chloe.

They got into the club without any problems, although Lana wasn't sure later if it was due to the fake IDs or to the brilliant smile Chloe bestowed on the bouncer. Inside was dimly lit neon, gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Lana stared, then looked away. People did that in public? Well -- she supposed it was little different from some of the dances she'd been to in college. But she knew those people.

Chloe laughed at Lana's bemusement and led her to a table. "Sit," she said. "I'll order our drinks."

Lana opened her mouth to tell Chloe that she didn't drink, but Chloe was gone.

"Here you go," Chloe said, setting a drink in front of Lana.

Lana stared at her drink. It was fruity. There was a parasol in it. Why did she get the feeling Chloe didn't think she could handle anything stronger? It was probably true, but that was beside the point. It was the principle of the thing, Lana told herself, although she was having trouble feeling more than mildly annoyed about it.

"Aren't you going to try yours?" Chloe asked, taking a sip of her drink (it was not fruity, Lana noticed, nor did it contain a parasol).

Lana shrugged inwardly and tasted her drink. Not too bad.

"So," Chloe said. "Why did you cut your hair?"

Possible explanations rushed through Lana's mind: it was trendy, she was tired of brushing the snarls out, it cut down on the number of random guys making passes at her, a whim, a dare, everyone was doing it. "I wanted to be someone different."

Chloe nodded. "I thought so. Wasn't sure. You know, I actually had a crew cut for a while?"

Lana felt her eyes widen and she giggled, imagining Chloe with a crew cut. "Really?"

"Yeah. Are you laughing at me?"

Lana shook her head, valiantly suppressing laughter. "Of course not. I wouldn't dare."

Chloe laughed then, running a hand through her hair. "I guess it is pretty funny. It wasn't really me. That's why I let it grow out again."

They were silent for a moment, and Lana thought that it was one of those comfortable, companionable silences that only occurred when people had some connection.

"I like your hair," Chloe said abruptly, reaching across the table to brush the fringe of Lana's hair with her fingertips.

Lana looked down, embarassed, and the moment of silence stretched almost to the point of awkwardness. "Want to dance?" she asked on impulse, looking up abruptly. "I'm getting tired of sitting here."

Chloe's smile seemed to brighten the room for a moment, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Sure," she said, her voice a little too chipper.

Lana had danced with other girls before, friends in college, and it hadn't meant anything. Somehow dancing with Chloe was different. There was something almost prickly in the air between them, a carefulness not to infringe too much on the other's personal space. Lana was so focused on dancing (on resisting the desire to put her hands on Chloe's waist) that she didn't notice that Chloe was crying until the song was over.

"Chloe?" Lana reached out to touch Chloe's arm.

"Lana -- don't--" Chloe broke away, making her way through the crowd towards the exit.

When Lana found her way outside, she was Chloe leaning against the brick wall by the door. She stared straight ahead, her eyes unnaturally wide and bright in the neon lights, and her mouth trembled slightly. She scrubbed at her eyes roughly with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara.

Lana reached over and caught Chloe's hands in her own. "You'll smudge your makeup. Chloe, what's wrong?"

Chloe didn't look at her. "I got it senior year -- God, it sounds like a disease," she said softly, laughing a bit through her tears. "I thought it was just another stupid moronic high school crush. I'd survive, and go to college, and move on. But I didn't move on. I cried every weekend for the first month because no one showed any interest in me except a couple of obnoxious boys -- the kind who'll hit on anything remotely female, you know -- so I thought I must be the most incredibly unattractive loser freak in the world. And I still had that damn crush. And--" She broke off. "Do you have any tissues?"

Lana dug around in her jacket pocket for a moment, found a squashed tissue and held it out.

"Thanks." Chloe wiped her eyes. She looked younger without her makeup, softer. Soft wasn't a word Lana had ever thought to apply to Chloe before. Chloe had always been so...tough. Softness implied vulnerability, and Lana was only just realizing how vulnerable Chloe was.

Lana awkwardly put her arm around Chloe's shoulders. "It'll be okay," she said tentatively.

"No," Chloe said, her voice hopeless. "It won't be okay. You see, I came back to Smallville this summer, and I saw -- I saw you. And it's not over, and it fucking hurts and it'll never happen and I hate it and why can't I just move on like a normal person?"

Lana's world stopped, turned over and righted itself, and she wondered how she could have ever wanted to be Chloe when she could do her. And everything she had wondered about, everything that had confused her for the last five years, fell into place.

"Jesus. I'm sorry." Chloe patted ineffectually at her pockets, sniffling a little. "I need a cigarette."

"No, you don't." Lana leaned over and kissed Chloe, tasted her tangy mango lipgloss and the salt from her tears, and buried her hands in Chloe's hair, slightly spiky from gel under her fingers. Then Chloe's arms were around her and Chloe's breast was soft under her hand and it felt like this was the moment her whole life had been moving towards, kissing Chloe in plain air behind a Metropolis club at the end of summer.

Return to Fanfiction by Carmarthen

All text and web design, in regards to thewritegirls.populli.net/carmarthen is Copyright © 2000-2002 "Carmarthen." All other trademarks, characters, pictures, and music cited and contained herein are the property of their respective owners.