Chloe moaned, a long, drawn out moan with hints of extreme ecstasy. Her eyes were rolled back, eyelids partially closed. A radiant flush stained her cheeks, and all Clark could do was stare.

Chloe swallowed, then turned her happy gaze on him.

"Aren't you going to eat yours?" she asked, using her chin to point toward the piece of pizza dangling in his hand. Frankly, he had forgotten he had grabbed a slice. The way Chloe had snatched the box from the delivery guy's hands had been entertaining, and her mad dash back up to the loft in the barn had been funny too. Her mad scramble to get the box open had been downright hysterical. But when she had taken her first bite...all thoughts had fled his brain.

After all, it's kind of hard to think when anyone makes those kinds of noises. Especially over pizza.

"After your reaction, I'm afraid it won't live up to the hype."

Chloe somehow managed to grin her trademark grin with her lips closed and mouth full.

"So what next?" he asked before taking an impossibly huge mouthful.

Chloe scanned the back of the DVD case, munching all the while on...Clark looked carefully...her second piece of pizza.

"I think Pusher," she declared, popping the DVD into the player.

Clark settled back on the couch with his second slice and prepared himself. This is what he got for telling Chloe he'd never watched The X-Files. A marathon. A very long marathon. With aliens that definitely didn't look anything like him.

"This one isn't gory is it?" he asked.

Chloe shot him a look. "Can I help it that you have a weak stomach? Jeez. And besides, what red-blooded male throws up during Jaws?"

"There were extenuating circumstances Chloe. I was...sick." If you could call it that. The blame had been put on the mayonnaise in Pete's mom's potato salad, but he was pretty sure it was the very bright green relish that as at fault. Relish should never glow like that. Too bad picking it out hadn't helped much, aside from the admonishment from Pete's mother about being a finicky eater.

She licked her fingers then dug into the pizza box again. "Well, just so you know, this isn't nearly as gory as Jaws. And there are much worse episodes. Believe me, I'm saving Home until later. I don't want to get hit by projectile vomit on that one."

He took a moment to survey her as she flipped through the features. It made sense to him that she was an X-Files fan. Conspiracies, aliens, weird things that go bump in dark alleys. But watching it with her this evening had been enlightening in whole new ways. He hadn't seen the standard for Chloe: snark and disbelief at Hollywood's gross inaccuracies. He also hadn't seen absolute adoration for Fox Mulder, a guy that he swore could be her father. You know, if he were real.

No, oddly enough he'd seen her argue with the TV, defend rationale and science along with Scully, even get disgusted when the traditional "aliens are bad" was trotted out.

It was starting to freak him out.

He polished off his third piece as the opening sequence started. His hand went into the box at the same time as Chloe's, and it was purely coincidence that he got his hand on the last slice first.

He looked at her. She looked at him. He tried not to cower, because really, he shouldn't be scared of her, right?

"Clark, what did I tell you last time?" she asked, glaring.

"Never get between a Sullivan and her pizza."

"Good boy. Now..." and she looked at his hand with a look that said if he didn't remove it in five seconds, she'd remove it for him.

"But, you've had four pieces already. I've had three. Logically, that's mine," he protested. "Plus I'm bigger. It takes more food to sustain me."

Chloe gave him another look, this one even more ferocious. "Don't make me hurt you Clark."

He grinned. "As if you could."

And he started to pick up the slice.

"I know things, Clark."

He hesitated and looked at her, worried.

"I know about third grade. The field trip to the planetarium. A certain somebody had performance anxiety and couldn't go to the bathroom with the other boys, so he tried to hold it all day, but unfortunately, on the bus on the way home..."

"How did you know that?" he asked in horror. That had been horribly embarrassing, one of those moments he'd pushed to the back of his mind and hoped to forget forever. It was something that was closely guarded. His mother knew (because the teacher had had to call her to pick him up), but she'd been very understanding. That meant...

"Pete."

Chloe grinned a self-satisfied grin. "Like I said, I know things."

Two could play this game. "Pete told me you once owned a Barbie. Malibu Barbie."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You believed in the Easter Bunny until you were ten."

"You actually tried out for the cheerleading squad in middle school."

"You wore lipstick and eyeshadow for a week."

Clark glared. "That was on a dare from Pete."

She smirked. "Doesn't matter. You wore makeup and there are pictures. It counts."

He huffed and thought of everything Pete had told him over the last few years. "You had a Fabio poster."

"I did not!"

"Tall? Hunky? Blonde?"

"Try Nordic lamebrain. Dolph Lundgren is very different from Fabio."

Okay, that had taken a turn for the scary.

"Chloe, there are so many things wrong about you having a poster of Dolph Lundgren. Besides the fact that, you know, it's Dolph Lundgren."

"He played He-Man. I was little."

"It's still lame."

He lifted the pizza toward his mouth. It was almost there before Chloe's hand clamped on his wrist.

"You're an alien."

He coughed. It was infinitely better than jumping across the room, having a panic attack or fainting, all things he really wanted to do. Instead he quickly went for nonchalance.

"Say what?"

"You're an alien. From another planet."

He grinned guardedly, trying to think of everything that she could possibly mean by that.

"You mean like men being from Mars? By that logic you're an alien too."

She grabbed the crust of the pizza and pulled as she said, "No, I mean like you were born on another planet, shipped here to earth in a space ship that came down along with the meteor shower on a sunny October day several years ago. And you're really strong, bullet proof, extremely fast, can somehow start fires and hear things that you shouldn't be able to."

His mouth just hung open. Really, there were no words.

"And you're somehow connected with those markings in the caves," she said matter of factly as the slice of pizza dropped from his hand into hers.

She sat back, a satisfied smirk on her face as she chomped down. Around a mouthful of pepperoni and sausage she spoke.

"Like I said. I know things."