Title:  DINNER DANCE (Nourishment 7)
Author:  Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to:  jfc013@merle.it.northwestern.edu
Archive:  Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category:  Vignette, Chloe's POV - sequel to "Cotton Candy"
Spoilers:  Takes place *before* "Kinetic", but after everything else
Rating:  PG-13 for implied m/m interaction
Pairing:  Clark/Lex
Summary:  A mystery in the mansion...

DISCLAIMER:  These characters do not belong to me.  Smallville is the
property of Alfred Gough, Miles Millar, Tollin-Robbins Productions, and
Warner Bros. Television, and based upon characters originally created by
Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster.  This story is just for the entertainment of
my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  The rest of "The Nourishment Series" can be found on my
webpage at www.enteract.com/~jfc/stories.html - You don't have to read them
all first, but it might help.

DEDICATION:  For Tiff and some other very pretty people...

COPYRIGHT:  (C) Janet F. Caires-Lesgold                  March 6, 2002
            jfc013@merle.it.northwestern.edu
Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express
permission of the author.  Thank you very much.
_______________


Clark Kent is missing.

Given that this is a pretty big castle, and that this is his birthday party,
this is a bad thing.

I take a second to see if anyone else has noticed, then let my reporter's
instincts take over.

Let's see:  he seemed fine earlier, when I sat at his left over the single
most elaborate feast I have ever seen.  The soup alone tasted like someone
had slaved over it for two days.  You'd think that you could get all the
produce you needed around here, but from the just-picked taste of most of
those out-of-season fruits and vegetables, they'd probably been shipped to
Kansas at great expense from the other side of the world this morning.  And
I swear, if those steaks had been any larger or any rarer, they would have
mooed when we stuck our forks into them.

Clark was so happy there at the head of the table, cutting off huge bites of
pink meat, laughing, chatting away--it was more than excitement at it being
his birthday.  I've seen him having fun before, many times.  This was
something else.  It was like he *belonged* at the center of attention, like
he was everybody's hero.

Now that I think of it, that was nice to see.  He's usually so quiet, sort
of hiding his light under a bushel, so to speak.  I tried not to stare...
really I did.  I mean, of all the guys at the table--Whitney to my left,
Pete across from me, and Lex down at the far end--Clark was the star who
outshone them all.  True, Lana and I were dressed to the nines in last
year's prom dresses and this week's eye shadow, but he was beyond a doubt
the fairest of us all.

Wait--I'm not writing this for the society column, as if the Torch even
*had* a society column.  This is front-page news.  Extra: Farmer's son
disappears from birthday celebration...  Well, the *pictures* would look
like the society column, though, especially all of us posed around that
cake, which had so many sparklers on it I was half expecting it to explode.

The boys are talking spring training and completely ignoring the string
quartet playing over in the corner, which does not surprise me.  I would ask
them if they had heard Clark heading for the bathroom, but I'm pretty sure
guys don't *announce* it like girls do.

Maybe he forgot something upstairs.  I've been to sleepovers before, but
nothing like this!  We've all been assigned suites for the night so we don't
have to drive home late (well, those of us who can *drive*!), so we all
brought luggage.  I stayed at the Metropolis Hilton with my dad once, and I
thought *that* was posh.  They don't have satin sheets and stained-glass
windows and curtains around the beds, that's for sure.  They don't have
unbelievably rich bald guys as chaperones, either.

Eventually I stroll over to where Lana is perusing the small heap of gifts
we brought.  There's a nice pile of CDs, some gift certificates, a pocket
star-chart, a book of collected articles from the Weekly World News from me,
and something that looks like a jeweler's loupe in a padded box, but which
I've been assured is a new eyepiece for his telescope from Lex.

"Hey, Lana," I say, as casually as possible, "where did Clark get off to?"

She puts down the CD whose label she's been reading.  "I sure don't know,"
she answers.  "He sort of wandered off after dinner.  Maybe all this fuss
has gotten to him."

I look over the inscription I'd made as a joke in the book ("For Clark's
Sweet 16!  2 Nice 2 Be 4 Gotten") and wonder if he's even had a chance to
see it yet.

"Y'know," Lana adds, "Lex said something to me at my party...  Have you
tried the coat closet?"

Before I can snicker at her suggestion, I realize something.  "Now that you
mention him, have you seen Lex since dinner?"

Her eyes open so wide I'm sure we'll see mascara smudges on her forehead
later.  "Oooooooh," she purrs, "maybe they've been *murdered*!"  Even if she
didn't dissolve into helpless giggles after her assertion, I would be able
to tell that she is just teasing.  "How's this?" she finally offers.  "I'll
go check upstairs, and you hunt around down here, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," I agree.

"Of course, if you *do* find dead bodies, you are required to let out the
obligatory blood-curdling scream..."

"Gotcha," I answer to her departing back.

Pete and Whitney's fascinating discussion has switched to basketball, so I
roll my eyes and ignore them, heading off to dig up some clues, if there are
any to be found.

The library is dark and empty of everything but leather upholstery and old
books.  A few of the kitchen staff are finishing up the dishes, and ask me
if I want something else to eat, which I refuse politely.  I knock on the
bathroom door, and even check the coat closet, but no Clark can be found.

As I'm coming around the outside edge of the ballroom where we've been
partying hearty, I catch a strange reflection through what I thought was a
window, but turns out to be a door.  Quietly, I creep to the corner of the
glass so that the light from within illuminates whatever is outside, and I
do not cast very much of a shadow.

It takes me a moment to adjust to the dark, but I can soon make out that I'm
seeing a balcony to the outdoors right off of this room.  There's that
reflection again, and I realize that what I'd thought might be a yard lamp
is actually Lex's head.

I can't quite tell what he's doing, and the music inside makes it impossible
to hear what's going on outside.  Suddenly, he turns, and I see Clark just
beyond him on the balcony.  They're smiling broadly, but before I can get a
good look, they are moving again, and it dawns on me:  they're dancing.

Lex leads, clutching Clark gently in his arms and stepping in a slow rhythm
that matches the romantic tune being played by the quartet.  He extends his
arm as if to fling Clark away, then curls it in gradually to pull him back
into his embrace.  There's that happy look again, the face that shows how
much Clark feels like he *belongs* here, and I can't take my eyes off of him
yet again.  I would be lying if I said I don't feel a little bittersweet
pang when Lex draws him even closer and finishes their dance with a
beautifully tender kiss.

What I thought might be front-page news is just that, but of an entirely
different kind.  Extra:  Farmer's son finds happiness with area
gazillionaire.  This one's not even for the Torch gossip column, though.  I
can keep a secret...

Lana may come looking for *me* soon, but for now I think I'll just hide here
and watch my friend and his lover take another spin on the balcony.  If she
finds me, I'll steer her back to the remnants of the cake and away from
their private little party.

When she asks, I'll vaguely reassure her of what I've found without spelling
out the particulars.

Clark and Lex aren't missing anymore.

In fact, I think they've found each other.


THE END

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