Pete stood by the counter blowing on his coffee. He was sure Chloe was here somewhere; but the Talon was packed with the evening rush, and the collective sea of coats and sweaters hindered his search. He moved a little deeper into the coffee shop. After an hour at the public library working on his Civics project, and football practice before that, Pete was all but desperate for real conversation. Nearly at the back, he stopped. A spark of mischief gleamed in his eyes. He'd found her.

Chloe squirmed under the table, oblivious to the rest of the world in her quest for a hidden power outlet. She was mumbling a string of curses at her dying laptop battery and at how much she had to get written tonight. The Talon was not wired for broadband. The Talon was barely wired for electricity, as far as she was concerned, but that was because Lana insisted on plugging a dozen strands of Christmas lights into the few available outlets. But that was Lana. It was a miracle the fire marshal hadn't shut the place down, but then the building was pre-code. Not that Lex didn't have him in his pocket anyway. Probably. Finally, with a triumphant sound, she got the laptop plug shoved into the ancient socket, and twisted herself back upright.

The silver flash caught her full in the face. Chloe jumped, covering her eyes, and reflexively yanked her blouse back into place.

Pete stood there, a broad grin planted on his face. "Niiice view, Chloe." He comically framed a close up of her bust.

"You dork, you scared the hell out of me!" She grabbed her digicam away from him.

"You know," he said, sitting, "with as much money as you spend on clothes, you could at least find something that covers your butt when you bend over."

"Oh my god, you didn't." She tugged self-consciously at her low riders.

"Oh, come on. How could I resist?" He beamed and kicked her boot with his sneaker.

Pete watched Chloe scroll through the last images taken. She cringed visibly at the shot of her pasty white ass riding out of her pants, upper body contorted in her fight with the outlet. She keyed some buttons and mock-glared at him. "Very funny."

"Wait! Don't erase them!"

"Too late."

"Damn, because I was thinking, what a great cover shot for the Torch on April Fools Day! I mean, the Editor of the paper mooning the whole school? It'd be classic!"

"My rear end? On the cover of the Torch? You are so smoking crack. So to speak." They both giggled. "But you could do it. We could even shoot it on school grounds, so there could be a nice background image - like the principal's office!"

"Oh no." Pete backpedaled. "Count me out. I've got scholarships to qualify for - there's no way in hell I'm risking my ass for a gag pic. So to speak." They both laughed again. It was good, this easy camaraderie they always returned to.

"Hi guys!" Lana materialized out of nowhere and set down the steaming cinnamon roll Chloe had ordered with her mocha.

"Hey stranger," Chloe said, cheerfully.

Lana smiled at her. "I'll be right back."

"Sure you will," Pete called after her. Lana always said she'd be right back...right before she dove into another round of barista crisis-control. He made a joking swipe at the pastry before realizing that Chloe's eyes were not on her food. "Uh, Chloe?"

"Huh?" She turned to face him.

"You are so not-subtle."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She busied herself with arranging the laptop and cinnamon roll where she could reach them both.

"Don't give me that. You were totally staring. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth. And you're going to get icing on your keyboard."

"I was not. And for your information, I've perfected the art of balancing eating with typing. I can do this. Besides, I can always lick it off if I make a mess."

"Uh-huh. I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Pete!" She flushed pink. "Don't be a brat."

"Then don't deny it."

"Deny what?"

"How you were watching her."

"How was I watching her?"

"Like pilgrims waiting on Thanksgiving dinner, just like everyone else does. Don't get me wrong, Chloe. She's a babe. Your mind isn't traversing virgin territory." Pete stopped and snickered.

"Pete, seriously..."

"It's ok. Just don't tell me you don't think about it. I mean, everybody thinks about it; but you sleep on the other side of the wall from her."

"I have nothing to say to that," she replied, licking sugary icing from her fingertips. "Here, help me finish this. I forgot they were so huge."

Chloe shoved the wrecked pastry toward him, and turned her attention back to her Powerbook.

"Mmm, thanks." Pete began uncurling the cinnamon roll to get at the spicy interior. "Lots of work to do?"

Chloe rattled off the litany. She had to finish her lab write-up for Physics, whip out a three page review of a Margaret Atwood novel she'd first read back when she still lived in Metropolis, and crank out a five pager for History. Since she'd been banned from writing it on muckraking, Nellie Bly, or Woodward and Bernstein, Chloe was now writing an expose on the Rupert Murdoch global media empire. It was too contemporary, not to mention too large a topic for the scope of the project; but at this point, Chloe didn't care. She'd spent half the school year arguing about the corrupted value of history as defined by the victors' stance on media censorship, and the whole class had heard her struggles as Torch Editor in vividly detailed Chloe-vision. They were sick to death of her.

Pete nodded. "I know the feeling."

"Hey!"

"What?"

"You didn't have to agree with the last part."

Pete laughed. "And here I've been all this time, thinking you respected honesty."

"Oh good grief. I know I can be a lot to handle, but it's not like you can't tell me to back off."

"I'm teasing, Chloe, get a grip." He made a face at her, and she grinned back, really looking at him for the first time that day.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he shrugged. "Just stressed."

"Why? What's up?"

"Nothing. It's no big deal."

"Pete."

"Chloe," he mocked her tone.

"Talk to me. It's what I'm here for."

"You're swamped right now. You just said so."

"Don't be a ridiculous. I've got plenty of time. What's going on?"

"It's just Clark stuff. Don't worry about it."

"Oh." Chloe got that look. "Tell me anyway."

"No, it's not that big a deal."

"Pete, I can handle it. Haven't I told you I'm over him? When are you going to start believing me?"

Pete knew better than to answer her last question. "He's changed a lot," he began.

"He had a really rough summer."

"That's just the tip of the iceberg." He paused, scraping at a line of sugared cinnamon on the plate. "Don't you think it's weird that he and Lex vanished at the same time?"

"Well, I'd call it a coincidence, except that nothing in Smallville is a coincidence. So yeah, I guess. What are you driving at?"

"I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right about it."

"Well, I know Clark felt kind of dissed when Helen happened." Pete could see Chloe's mental wheels start to turn. "But then, people put relationships over friendship all the time."

"Yeah. Except that now.... Well, you spent the summer at the Daily Planet. Clark was doing God knows what in Metropolis. Lex was marooned. And none of you are acting right."

"Okay, I understand that they're acting different -- and who could blame them? But how am I not acting right?"

He'd touched a nerve. Just the nerve he was referring to, but didn't have a name for yet. "What happened to you when you were there, Chloe? You haven't been the same since Spring."

She gazed at him for a long moment, slowly lowering her defenses to let him see into her. He didn't like what he saw.

"What happened?" he repeated. "What are you so afraid of?"

"I made a stupid choice. A bunch of stupid choices, actually, but it doesn't matter."

His protective streak took over. "Did someone hurt you?"

"No, I promise. I would have told you if anyone did."

"Then, what?"

"I can't tell you."

"It seems like nobody can tell me anything these days." He didn't even try to hide his hurt feelings. She could read him like a book, anyway.

"I'm sorry. I wish it were different, I really do. I just did something really dumb, and now I've got to deal with the consequences." Her voice ended on a sour note.

He scowled.

"Pete." She looked up. "How do you know whether or not Lex is acting right?"

He fixed his eyes on his coffee. This wasn't going as he'd hoped at all.

"Spill it."

"Honestly, I'm just guessing - I mean, three months playing Gilligan all by himself? It's not a stretch." He went on more quietly, "You know I don't trust him any further than I can throw him, but he and Clark used to hang out, and now they don't. Of course, Clark and I used to hang out all the time, and now we don't. But I don't see them around town anymore, and I know Clark doesn't have that much work to do on the farm."

"What, you think they're hiding out together?" Chloe missed the point as only she could.

"No! God, what a ... ew! Chloe! I totally didn't need that visual."

"Don't blame me! It's your brain, you got there on your own." She grinned, sipping her coffee.

"That's not happening. Besides, Clark's mom said he's always up in his loft brooding now. Like, not just when I go over there."

"I can see how they would both be depressed after everything they've been through. I kind of relate. I'm so stressed out with life and school and the Planet column, I think I'm forgetting how to have fun."

"Yeah, I get that. It's just, I'm worried -" Pete shut his mouth as Lana appeared at their elbows.

"Hey! I'm back. And it's not even two hours later this time!" Lana slid into Chloe's side of the booth.

"That's true." Pete smiled. "You seem happy today," he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

Lana looked, well, nothing less than radiant. Her expression was open, her smile was genuine. Her hair was slipping out of its twist and looked good that way.

"I am. It's been a really good day. How are you two doing?"

Pete demolished the rest of the cinnamon roll while Chloe repeated her narration of the night's homework. He noticed that she and Lana both looked at him when they spoke to each other, instead making eye contact. Funny, that. Pete and Chloe had played a lot of that game, except usually Clark had been the third wheel, never Lana.

Pete was used to the fact that Chloe was an equal-opportunity people-watcher, but this took things to a whole new level. The fact that it was Lana was amusing enough that he had to bury a smile in the last mouthful of pastry. He knew Chloe would kill him if he outed her, even if she was only appreciating the scenery. They had to talk. This was just golden, especially in light of the one fight that had nearly killed their friendship.

*

Back during freshman year, Chloe just wouldn't stop giving him hell over making the football team. It was as if, by becoming a jock, he'd betrayed some secret agreement he didn't even know they'd had. It didn't make any sense to him at all, but this was more than he could simply write off as alien girl logic. Pete had turned the full brunt of his anger on her, demanding to know what the hell her problem was. Chloe launched into an angry speech that began with improper educational funding and ended with a roomful of sweaty, muscular bodies showering together and pretending that it wasn't gayer than anything you could see on Showtime.

He'd just stared at her, stunned. She held her stance, chewing her lip but not backing down. Finally, he said, "Um, I'm straight, Chloe. You know that. Shit, you've even seen the porn collection. Nothing gay there."

"So why do you stare at Clark so much? You look at him even more than you look at me. Not that you need to look at me, but at least I'm female!"

"I - what? That's nuts! I've known him since we were in kindergarten!"

"Like that has anything to do with now!"

"You're so wrong. He's like a brother."

"Uh-huh. You just tell yourself that while you're showering with a room full of guys after rolling around in the grass with them for two hours a day. You watch him Pete," she insisted, before adding quietly, "You watch him like I do."

"No, I don't!" he exploded. "I know how you stare at him, and if you were a real friend you'd never think that about me!"

Pete stormed off before he broke something; he was angry enough to hurt someone. He spent the next several days stewing; but he managed to pay attention to himself, too, on the off-chance that Chloe was right. What if he did watch Clark like that without realizing it?

By the end of the week, he had discovered that Clark looked at him, too; but not in the way that he mooned over Lana, or in the same way he ogled a nice rack moving at eye-level past his desk. If Clark was checking him out, Clark didn't know it. And if Pete was doing the same, it didn't mean anything. They'd known each other forever, and were as comfortable together as hay in a barn. And if Pete liked the way it felt to play a rough and tumble sport with a bunch of other guys, well who was Chloe to criticize it, anyway? Unless, maybe, she'd somehow gotten the idea that he was competition.

The next week Pete waited until he could talk with her alone in the Torch office. He let her lay on the tirade he knew the days of ignoring her had earned him. When she was done, he took a deep breath and asked, "Do you want to hear what I have to say, or should I just leave?"

"Uh, yes, I do." Chloe pulled up short. "Sit down...please."

He did, then immediately stood up to pace around the room. He took another breath. "You were right. Kind of."

"I knew it!" she crowed with triumph.

"Are you going to listen to me, or should I even waste my time with this?" Pete was shamelessly using his mother's tactics, but it worked, and he had to get this out.

"Sorry."

"Okay, because I'm not going to bother if you're not going to meet me half-way here. Yes, I watch him. And you watch him. And he watches both of us, plus a lot of other people besides. But he stares at Lana, even more than you stare at him. There's a difference, you know?"

Chloe stuck out her lip.

Pete shook his head. "Him watching us, and me watching him - it's not a sexual thing. It's just being friends, ok? I mean, ew. He's a guy. No thanks."

"Pete..."

"And the part about the team? Maybe you don't get this because you've never played team sports, but it's just like that. It's fun to play a game and roll around in the grass and mud. Didn't you ever do that when you were little? Playing hide and seek in the bushes, king of the hill, anything? It's not about sex at all, it's just fun."

"With all those hormones and all that touching? No way is it not at least partially about sex. Not to mention everybody knows that wearing a football jersey will get you laid in a heartbeat - if you don't have any standards, that is." She wasn't going to budge on the sex bit, because they both knew she was right.

"I'm not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I'm not. You know it. I know it. And I'm kind of worried about what's going on in your head that makes you think I would be."

Chloe bit at her thumbnail and shook her head. "Pete, it's no big deal. I was wrong. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to turn into a whole stupid drama."

"Don't hedge on me, Chloe." Pete was totally channeling Judge Ross now.

"But -"

"No. I mean it. I'm not in competition with you. Not unless you've got a secret crush on Erica from Biology. Because if you do, you're going down."

Chloe laughed. "No, no danger there."

"Then believe me."

"I do, Pete. I do. I just, well, it all just sort of came together one day. I mean, Clark isn't that blind to how I feel about him, and as long as we're all just hanging out, it's no big deal. But he doesn't look at me. He probably thinks of me like the sister he never had."

"Probably."

"Gee, thanks."

"Since when do you expect me to blow sunshine up your butt?"

She sighed. "You're right. Why are you so right today? This sucks."

Pete smiled. "You and Clark are my best friends, okay? I don't want to screw that up."

"Do me a giant favor? Don't tell him about any of this?"

"Are you kidding? Man, that would be gross."

*

Pete watched the girls avoid eye contact with each other. He couldn't believe this. Lana's eyes kept drifting to Chloe's cleavage. The deep v-neck gave a great view, Pete admitted before reminding himself that it was just wrong to notice Chloe's body. She was supposed to be just one of the guys, and yet the bright clingy outfits she wore were - whoa. He needed air.

Pete tuned back in to hear a rant about teacher's expectations versus the limited number of hours in a day. He was just about to toss in a whine about football eating his free time when Chloe reached out to pluck a stray thread off Lana's sleeve. Something about the touch stayed his tongue.

Lana was on her feet. "Sorry, the line's backed up at the counter. Gotta go." She was gone in seconds.

"She does that a lot lately."

"No kidding," Chloe agreed.

"She was checking you out."

"I did not just hear you say that."

"She was checking you out."

Chloe blushed. "That's not the right answer, Pete."

"It's true. She was staring at your cleavage the whole time you were talking."

"No way."

"How would you know? You sure weren't paying attention to where her eyes were going."

"You're such a dork."

He chuckled. "You distracted much? That wasn't much of a witty comeback." He flashed a winning smile. "You know I'm right."

"Okay, I know at some point we discussed this and agreed that it's okay to look, right? Besides, what happened to you being all Mr. Homophobic Man?"

"Total double-standard. Girl-on-girl is hot. Guy-on-guy, ew."

"You're such a chauvinist."

"I'm a complete gentleman and you know it."

"Who showers with dozens of naked boys every day."

"That's only during football season. And you're just mad that I wouldn't sneak you into the locker room for your 'expose' on hygiene and athletic equipment."

"You are so full of crap!"

"You really should just watch Bull Durham again."

"It's a great movie!"

"Or what was that one they made before the Matrix trilogy? Bound. That's more your speed these days, anyway. Isn't it?"

"Pete." Her voice warned him to stop.

"Sorry. I just think it's funny," he grinned. "After all these years, you end up in Clark's shoes."

"What?" Chloe was not amused. "Pete, I'm not obsessed with her. I like her, especially when she lets her hair down and stops moping. I like seeing who she really is under the perfect pink shell. Clark never even tried to do that."

"Whoa. You got it bad."

"I swear, I'm going to throw something at you."

"Can I watch when it happens?"

"Do you ever get real dates with that mouth?" Her eyes blazed.

"Jeez, Chloe, it's just a joke. Lighten up."

"Pete, you don't understand," she sighed. "You say you see all these things, but I don't. I'm too far inside it. Beyond that, I don't even know if it's something I want. I mean, how awkward would it be? Christ, my dad's bedroom is at the other end of the hall!"

"Well, yeah, you've got a point there. But she was. Looking, I mean."

"I don't even want to think about that. Besides, looking is not a big deal. People look all the time."

"I don't."

"Liar. You look at everybody. Your eyes have been so many places, they probably need a vaccination. Or at least to be washed out with iodine."

"Hey! That's just mean."

She smirked. "Seen Clark lately?"

"We're not going there."

"None of us are going there, Pete," she snorted. "Not even Lana...and not for lack of trying."

"That's harsh."

"It's true, though. First he shut her out, then he tried to do the whole half-way friends routine, and now nothing. Kaput. He's not even trying."

"Breakups suck."

"Yeah, but friendship should count for something, right? Nobody's asking him to get back together with her. Just not to alienate her."

Pete raised his eyebrows. "Right..."

"You don't believe me."

"I didn't say that. But I do think you're a little unclear on what you really want."

"What about what you really want? Like you said earlier, things have changed. And it sucks."

"I don't get why now you're defending Lana's feelings for Clark."

"This isn't about her feelings for him. It's about Clark being a flake, and all of us pretending that it's okay for him only to be around when he needs us."

"That's not true. He's been there."

"He's been there to save us from danger, but swooping in to save the day doesn't make for much of a friendship."

"I don't know. Maybe I'm getting to spend more time with him than you are."

"Maybe you are."

"I'm sorry it's like this."

"No, Pete, I'm sorry. I'm being an idiot."

"No, you're not." Pete fought back his frustration. "It's okay, Chloe. You're dealing with this the best way you can, and it's hard when someone you consider a close friend acts like a total dumbass. He's disappointed me, too. A lot. But what can you do? He's got issues."

"Volumes and volumes of issues."

"Definitely."

"And he won't let us help him."

"And we can't force him."

"But we love him anyway, right?"

"Well, yeah. He's Clark."

"This sucks." Pete watched Chloe's game face crumple. She still needed Clark more than she would ever admit, even to herself.

"You know what? I don't worry about it." Pete smiled gently as Chloe's face registered confusion. "In the end, to me, he's still the kid I used to race Hot Wheels with when I was seven. He'll be okay. We all will."

"So what, 'We'll always have Paris'?" Chloe tried to put her smile back on.

"Huh?"

"Casablanca, doofus."

"I guess. Never saw it."

Chloe sighed and shook her head. "I need to jump back on my homework, or else it'll never get done."

"That's cool. Wanna do a movie night this weekend?"

"Ooh!" She perked up. "Yes, definitely. Remind me later?"

"'Kay. I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck," he said, standing.

"Thanks, Pete. G'nite," she said, already beginning to type.

Pete left the Talon. He wasn't ready to go home yet, even though it was close to dinnertime. Thankfully, Mom had gotten used to teenager hours years ago. He left his car on the street and walked down to the record store on the square. He was just killing time, he knew, but he had cash in his pocket if they happened to have the one Funkadelic CD still missing from his collection. They wouldn't, of course, but he liked to imagine that Smallville had a hidden cadre of George Clinton and Bootsy Collins fans, complete with secret handshake. Or maybe butt shake. But no, never mind. In Kansas City, maybe, but not here.

He browsed the aisles of pop drivel, then set to poring over the R&B rack on the back wall. The idiot manager lumped R&B, jazz, blues, and everything he couldn't easily categorize together. It was infuriating. Once he'd weeded out all the Weird Al albums and taken the stack to the counter, demanding to know if he seriously thought "Yankovic" was a black man's name. He'd almost gotten thrown out, but at least Weird Al was relegated to the pop bins now.

Pete ignored the deep rows of Ashanti and Beyonce. He was looking for the classics, like the treasures hidden in his father's locked LP cabinet. His dad had original, first press Miles Davis albums...but Pete wasn't allowed to touch them. He just looked at the worn cardboard covers, trying to make out names through the glass.

Pete was up to Coltrane when he felt someone beside him.

"That's a great album."

"Yeah?" Pete looked up from reading the back cover. Crap. Just who he really didn't want to see right now. Lex was standing there with half a dozen CDs in his hand. Bowie's Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars was on top.

"The Blue Train sessions were some of his best work. It's amazing the way that horn can fill up a room. Are you a fan?"

"Uh, kind of." First Chloe was turning into a dyke, and now Lex was gushing over 40 year old recordings at him. As if this day could get any weirder. "I'm more into funk, but my dad's got some great old stuff that he plays now and then."

Lex nodded and moved down to the Ps. "You like Bird?"

"Haven't heard much, to be honest."

"Ah."

Pete hated that tone. He hated how impossibly young it made him feel, like his oldest brothers talking down to him because he was the baby of the family. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Pete went on the offensive. "Why don't you just order off the internet? It's not like you couldn't buy whatever you wanted."

Lex glanced at him and shrugged slightly. "You know, Pete," he said slowly, "sometimes a guy just wants to go to a record store."

Pete swallowed and felt like an idiot again. He watched Lex add Parliament's Mothership Connection to his stack, then walk up toward the register. His driver (or bodyguard or whatever he was) stood waiting for him.

"The disc that flew out of the Aston Martin the other day," Lex called. "Which one was it?"

"Coldplay, I think."

"That's right." Lex picked up a copy from the New Releases rack, took the latest issue of Rolling Stone from the display by the register, and gave the manager his credit card.

Pete knew he was staring, but how often did you get to see a billionaire do his own shopping? Idly, Pete wondered if the meteor rocks had started affecting the water supply. If this day got any weirder, his head might explode.

Pete loitered until Lex was gone, then paid for Blue Train and the Roots' new album.

"Queerer than a three dollar bill, that guy," the man said, giving Pete a funny look. "Good taste in music, though."

"Uh, I wouldn't know," he replied, taking his change. Pete didn't remember when the manager had passed from carelessly off-beat to all-out creepy. He didn't like it.

Hurrying to his car, Pete needed very much to be home already. Home, with his dad's cooking and his mom's never-ending lawyer stories and his sister's stress over college application essays. Home, with no best friends hiding barnfuls of alien secrets. No female best friends drooling in confusion over their roommates. No sexually ambiguous billionaires doling out unsolicited music advice, while doing their own freaking shopping. And definitely no lurking bodyguards who could name exactly which CD had flown from a car...and judging from the tone of voice they'd used together - God help him. And God help Clark. Pete wished he could burn that little snippet out of his memory forever.

Home. Good, normal, safe home...with absolutely zero homoerotic subtext.

He got there fast.