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Title: Of Evil Eyes And Unlikely Alliances
Pairing: Chloe Sullivan/Whitney Fordman
Disclaimer: I do not own
Summary: When Whitney, sure that his ex's friend, Tina Greer, has placed the Evil Eye on him, he goes to the only person he believes will not only believe him, but help him as well. Chloe Sullivan isn't exactly the girl he thought she would be...but that's okay.
Note: Written for my Paranormal25 150. Prompt of the day #69
: Evil Eye
The next day in school, after spending a good couple of hours arguing with Whitney about constellations, Chloe was a little tired, trying to wake herself up with a good cup of coffee as she walked down the campus by herself. Pete was sick today, and Clark had told her he needed to stay home today to help his father with some things around the farm, so it was only going to be her.
Coffee in one hand, book in the other, her attention equally divided between both, Chloe didn’t notice Whitney or his friends walking towards her. She didn’t really have that ‘jock awareness’ that girls in this school seemed to have. She didn’t sense them, didn’t notice them unless she wanted an interview, and she didn’t really care much about them.
Jocks just weren’t her type.
“You ignoring me now, Sullivan?”
She looked up at that voice, raising an eyebrow when she realized she was surrounded by testosterone.
Taking another sip of her coffee, she swallowed and looked around her, realizing that Whitney’s friends had formed a loose circle around her. “Why do I suddenly feel like that baby gazelle separated from the rest of the herd, with a bunch of hungry, salivating hyenas about to pounce?”
A couple of the guys looked confused and some looked insulted.
Whitney raised an eyebrow, lips curled, clearly amused. “Please Sullivan, you’re no baby gazelle.”
Not sure if that was a compliment or not, Chloe raised an eyebrow at him. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this hustle so early in the morning?”
“Captain told us that you actually agreed to help him.” One of the guys to her right announced. “We wanted to tell you that if you need any help, we’ll be there.”
She and the football jocks weren’t on the best of terms due to her blunt way of writing her disapproval about certain aspects of the team, so she was shocked at this.
Someone else handed her a piece of paper.
Different names and phone numbers, written in various handwriting, decorated the paper.
“Here, you have our contact numbers.” The boy told her.
With that, the group dispersed, clapping Whitney’s back in encouragement as they went.
Chloe watched them go, a little in shock, before looking down at the piece of paper in her hands. “I can’t believe it.”
“Well, they decided to put aside old grudges if it meant me not messing up each and every game that freak comes to with Lana.” Whitney declared, taking her book from her and looking at the cover with a raised eyebrow. “Maldiciones Y Brujeria Nativa.”
“Not important anymore.” Chloe announced, waving the paper in his face. “Do you know how much money I can make with this?”
Whitney blinked, completely confused by the abrupt change in topics. “With a piece of paper? What? Can you turn it to gold or something?”
“Don’t need to, I have all the gold I need right here in awful writing.” Chloe laughed, finishing her coffee and dumping the container in a campus garbage can before paying complete attention to the paper and the numbers. “Do you know what the utterly desperate and pathetic female population of Smallville High would pay for the coveted numbers I now have in my possession?”
“My god.” Whitney’s eyes widened. “You are Satan.”
She barked out a surprised laugh at that, turning to look at him, amused. “Now what have I said about confusing me with Lu, Whitney?”
He shook his head at her, a small smile tilting his lips. “You’re a weird girl, Sullivan. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Every day.” She bragged, folding the paper into a small square and stuffing it in the only safe place she could think of---her bra.
The blonde, completely oblivious to Whitney’s suddenly wide-eyed, blushing gaze, grabbed the book from him and opened it wide to the page she’d been reading. “El Mal De Ojo. Es un malestar generalizado que comienza por agitacion, cansacio, mala racha sin motivo justiciado, en todos los asuntos que estamos tratando y va crescendo, acumulando malestares y molestias. Suele ir acompanado de problemas fisicos no habituales. Como se produce esto? Sencillo. A traves de una asimilacion de energia danina transmitida por el media de otra persona, ya sea provocado voluntaria o involuntaria. Puede ocurrir que el provocador desconozca su propio poder y lo mas seguro es no sea consciente de sus propios deseos o envidias ajenas, pero eso no quiere decir que igualmente no sea el causante.”
Closing the book as they continued to walk through the campus, she looked up expectantly at him. “So? What do you have to say to that?”
“Only one thing.” Whitney announced with all seriousness. “Huh?”
She frowned. “What part didn’t you understand?”
“How about the Spanish part?”
Chloe was completely confused. “What about the Spanish part?”
“How about me not knowing Spanish?” Whitney shot back like this should be obvious.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “You scored 97 in your last Spanish test.”
Whitney looked away.
Her eyes narrowed further. “So either Mister Martinez is giving points to the athletes that they don’t deserve, or you’re scoring the exam results from another outside source. A student with hacking abilities maybe who discovered a good way of getting money on the side?”
“Jesus, Sullivan.” Whitney snapped, shucking his hands angrily in the pocket of his jersey. “Will you use your annoying reporter instincts to help me and not try and think of the next thing to write about in the Torch?”
He looked horribly embarrassed, and was completely on the defense.
Chloe decided that since she was going to make a killing selling the phone numbers, she was going to forget about this—for now.
She was making no promises for after she had this mystery and case over and done with though.
After all, she got bored easy, and a pet project would do her good.
Also, her curiosity was piqued and killing her, wondering if Mr. Martinez or a hacker student were the ones helping the athletes of this school.
“Okay okay, don’t get your panties in a jam, Fordman.” She snorted, looking up at him, realizing that he refused to look at her. “Basically what the books says is that the Evil Eye usually begins with agitation, fatigue, and a string of unexplainable bad luck.”
He sidled her with a sideways glance. “Hole in one. Continue.”
Hating it when people starting talking in sports terms and thus lost her completely, Chloe just shook her head and continued. “Well, it says it starts growing more and more in power and problems, and is usually accompanied by odd physical problems.”
“Exactly.” She nodded, glad that he was now out of his sulk and paying complete attention to her.
“How is she doing this?” Whitney asked as he stopped walking, forcing Chloe to do the same and give him her full attention.
“Well, according to the book, it’s something like due to a transference of negative, harmful energy being transmitted by the person who is doing this to you either knowingly or unknowingly.”
“Greer knows exactly what she’s doing.” Whitney declared, eyes narrowed.
“There’s a chance that she mightn’t.” Chloe cautioned. “The books says that the person doing it mightn’t realize his or her own power…but that doesn’t mean that he or she doesn’t either, and is using it on purpose.”
“I don’t care what that books says, Tina Greer knows what she’s doing and she’s doing it on purpose.” Whitney made a face. “And we’re going to stop her.”
She smiled at the conviction in his voice as he turned the power of his baby blues on her.
The bell rung, signaling the beginning of their classes.
“I have History.” Whitney finally spoke.
“Ecology.” Chloe shrugged. “See you at the Torch during lunch time.”
“Can’t.” Whitney winced. “The whole team has a meeting with the coach, and we’ll all be barbequed alive if someone’s missing.”
“Oh.” Chloe nodded, understanding. “Well, you proved last night that you know where I live. After your after-school practice come over to my home and we’ll get started.” She turned to leave, before turning back around. “And bring your Spanish textbooks.”
Whitney frowned. “Huh?”
She grinned at him. “I’m going to tutor you in Spanish.” And with that she turned and walked away, to the sound of his sputtered cries behind her.
“How do you even know when I have afterschool practice?” Whitney Fordman finally found his voice as he jogged up after her, apparently forgetting his need to get to his own class before the second bell.
The blonde couldn’t help sending him evil look. “I have inside sources everywhere.”
The Quarterback gulped, looking a little intimidated, before clearing his throat and managing a smooth grin. “Or maybe you’re not as immune to my charms as you’ve pretend to be all this time.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Chloe didn’t expect him to freeze up at that, and she turned an amused expression on him as she walked passed, sending him a playful wink. “Whenever I see these supposed charms of yours that you’ve obviously been hiding, I’ll let you know.”
And with that she walked away, congratulating herself all the way to Ecology.
The add about the Dear Lana had gone out in today’s paper, and drop boxes had been left in their positions the day before…so Chloe was shocked at how much mail she was receiving already. The blonde sifted through the mail, deciding she was going to need a Lana Box in here somewhere, so the brunette could come in and sift through them herself.
Chloe also hoped that Lana was serious about this and would give it the importance it needed, because a lot of people were hyped up with the thought of the Lana Lang answering their problems. Even a couple of guys had written. The letters were anonymous, but you just couldn’t hide male scribble.
Since the door Clark had broken yesterday had yet to be repaired, the office was open to all, and Chloe looked up when she heard the clearing of a throat. Her eyes widened when she saw Clark Kent leaning in the doorway, smiling smoothly at her, arms folded over his chest.
“Clark?” She asked, standing and going around her desk to sit on it. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here with you, don’t I?” He announced, pushing away from the doorway and stalking towards her with a predator’s stance. “I just didn’t see you today, and I was wondering if you were ignoring me.”
Ignoring you? Chloe’s eyes narrowed. But you told me you weren’t coming to school today.
Clark only stopped walking when he was all up in Chloe’s space, leaning down and trapping her between the desk and his body. “I missed you, Chloe. You’re ignoring me all of a sudden and I don’t like it.”
Clark’s smoothness and words caused warning bells to go off in Chloe’s head, and yet she remained calm. “Please. You know I’d never ignore you Clark.”
“But all of a sudden you’re hanging out with Fordman, and now you what Lana to work here too?” Clark leaned closer, rubbing his lips caressingly against her cheek, up her jaw-line. “We don’t need Lana here. It’s a stupid idea. I just want it to be you and me. Tell her you don’t want her to do the thing for the Torch.”
She hadn’t told Clark about that yet.
Now that this Clark was busy burying his face in the side of her neck, Chloe let her eyes narrow and for her suspicion to show on her face.
There was no way Clark would say anything like that…or act this way.
“And why are you hanging out with Fordman lately anyway?” The male continued. “He’s nothing but trouble and a liar. You shouldn’t believe anything he says.”
“I’m his tutor.” Chloe responded, not feeling guilty about lying to Clark because as his hands went to her hips and he stepped between them, she was growing more and more sure that this look alike was not her best friend.
“Really?” Clark sounded relieved as he nibbled his way up her neck.
“Really.” Chloe nodded, forcing her face to mirror the cheerleaders as they looked at their jock boyfriends, before pulling away slightly so that she was grinning into the face of the not-Clark, arms around his neck. “Clark…we can’t do this here. Remember what happened when we tried this out in the infirmary? How close we were and then…”
The real Clark would know that this was not how their friendship was…and that they had never done anything in the infirmary except break in once or twice to investigate an accusation that the school nurse was selling special meteor-based drugs to the students.
Clark chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah, and that bitch nearly caught us on the sickbed.”
Gotcha you phony.
Chloe smirked at him, sure that he thought she was just reliving the moment, and not gloating on having found him out so easily.
“So let’s tell Lana not to waste her time here.” ‘Clark’ announced, nibbling on her neck once more.
Obviously Lana was the reason behind all of this.
Then again, wasn’t she usually when it had to do with meteor freaks?
There was the sound of something falling in the doorway.
Both of them turned there to see Whitney Fordman in the doorway, having dropped his ball, looking at them oddly.
The Clark double pulled away with a sneer in the footballer’s direction before turning to Chloe and giving her a kiss. “I’m going to go now.” And with that, the imposter walked out, bumping harshly into Whitney as he left.
Whitney watched him go, eyes narrowed, before turning on Chloe. “What the---?”
She frowned at him, interrupting. “I thought you had a meeting with the coach.”
“It let out early so I thought I would---why didn’t you tell me that you and Kent had a thing going on between you?”
“Because we don’t.”
He snorted, sneer on his face. “It sure didn’t seem like that when I walked in on you and you had that guy giving you a tongue bath!”
“He wasn’t giving me a---!” Chloe’s eyes widened.
“Then what the hell was he doing with his mouth against your skin?” Whitney snapped.
“That’s none of your business, Fordman!”
Whitney opened his mouth, eyes narrowed to tiny slits in anger.
Chloe raised her hand, stopping him. “Is he gone?”
Obviously confused, anger deflating immediately, Whitney turned to look in the direction Clark had left before nodding. “Yeah. Gone. Why?” His sneer returned. “Did he forget to lick somewhere in need of cleaning?”
“Just shut up and keep a lookout for me.” Chloe leaned backwards on the desk and pulled out her cellular from her bag, dialing a number and pressing the speaker button so Whitney could hear it too.
“Hey Chloe!” Clark answered brightly, his father’s laughter and the sounds of cows in the background. “What’s up?”
“Um, nothing Clark, how’s the work with your dad coming along?” She asked, seeing Whitney’s eyes widen as he suddenly understood.
“Great. I gotta go though. See you later?”
“Sure.” Chloe smiled, hanging up.
“If Clark’s at home…” Whitney entered, collapsing on the seat next to Chloe, eyes wide.
“Remember how you said that people were getting offended by you because they said you’d done things or said things you never did?” Chloe reminded him.
Whitney’s eyes widened even more as he suddenly got the whole scenario. “Oh fuck me!”
Chloe nodded, frowning at the doorway, still sitting on the edge of her desk. “Apparently this Evil Eye thing just got a little more complicated.”