Awwgust Drabbles

Lost Bet

"This is stupid," Jimmy stood in front of Clark's apartment holding a tray of brownies Cat and Angela baked. "Why do I have to be the one to knock?"

"Guy to guy," Angela said. "He's more likely to answer you than us."

"He might not even be home," Jimmy said.

"Oh, trust me, he's home and sick as a dog," Cat added her two cents. "I overheard Perry threaten to fire him if he showed his face at work."

"He's got to be really bad if Perry is that worried about him," Angela mused.

"Lois answered Clark's phone," Cat grinned, giddy with excitement. "I see a baby Kent in the future," she clapped her hands. The real reason the girls dragged Jimmy to Suicide Slums after work: Cat bet Lois and Clark had finally hooked up. 

"Get your head out of the gutter," Angela said. "Clark is an old soul. He would only sleep with his wife."

"Yes, but his future wife is Lois Lane," Cat said. "She has Clark tied around her finger," Cat wriggled her pinkie for emphasis. "If she asked Clark for the moon, he will give it to her."

"I can't imagine Clark naked," Angela said. "He's so proper and shy."

"You watch, Lois is going to answer the door wearing Clark's clothes," Cat said.

"He's a gentleman," Angela reiterated.

Jimmy knocked before there was a repeat of this morning. Hearing them argue about Clark's sex life was tortuous enough the first time around. It ended with him writing up a contract for a bet. And here they were.

There was no answer so Jimmy knocked again. "C.K. Perry sent us to check on you!" Jimmy called. "You home?" He faced the girls. "I told you he's not home."

Angela and Cat hid behind the wall, but had a super view of Clark's door. "Tell him you made brownies!" Cat whisper-screamed. 

      "I made brownies," Jimmy said, annoyed. "This is stupid. We all know he's on assignment."

"Then who did Perry scream at yesterday?"

The door swung open, revealing a disheveled Clark. He wore faded gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt that was inside out. His hair looked like it had been caught in an electrical storm. The glasses were crooked and upside down, as if putting them on had been an after thought. Clark frowned at him with concentration, almost looking constipated. He looked at Jimmy like he was a stranger. "Jack?"

Jimmy almost dropped the brownies, an old wound opening up. Is Clark trying to be funny? He knows Jimmy's brother died years ago. Clark went to the funeral. "I'm so glad you're okay, buddy." Clark hugged Jimmy, squashing the brownies. "Doomsday can't break up the three musketeers," Clark slapped Jack on the back, like he used to with Jack. Jimmy's throat tightened; he drowned in memories of those dark days.

"That's not funny C.K." Jimmy said. Jack died in a car crash. It was uncool for Clark to nickname the car that killed his brother.

"Did I say something wrong?" Clark asked, an eyebrow quirking up in confusion. "Your heartbeat . . . I mean you look upset Mr. Olsen."

"Mr. Olsen?" Jimmy echoed, perplexed. "Are you okay, C.K.?"

Clark's eyes widened. "Oh my God," he ran his fingers through his hair. "You're Jack's kid brother —Mario Kart dude. "

"Jimmy," Jimmy supplied. "I bring you coffee every day."

"Right," Clark clutched his head. "It's coming back to me," he said. "I was hit by a uh . . . well, a  train," Clark thought out loud. "Everything is a bit jumbled."