Stop, Drop, and Roll

***

Chloe's pretty sure it's a bad sign to drive up to someone's house and see a giant fireball flare behind it. Especially when said house is made of wood. It's also a supremely bone-headed idea to slam your car into park and run full-tilt towards it. But, considering the reality of the last five years of her life, Chloe downgrades 'bone-headed' to 'probably dumb' and does it anyway.

It's not what she expects. Admittedly, she's expecting a full-scale invasion or attack or meteor freak who can blow things up with his/her hands. It's happened before, so when she manages to skid around the side of the house, it's all she can do to not fall over laughing.

Her giant alien best-friend is kind of running around the back yard, on fire. Okay, so it's his clothes that are on fire, but it's still hysterically funny in that "doesn't require a trip to the Smallville MedCenter when he puts himself out" way.

She meandered the rest of the way around the house and stopped next to Clark's golden retriever who appeared to be watching the show too. Tilting her head a little, she watched as he flailed. Goddamn, she wished she had her camera. Badly.

"Chloe! Hi! Um. Be with you in a minute."

She snorted and crossed her arms under her boobs. "I can see that. Want me to get the hose?"

She deduced that he'd been in the middle of doing something with flammable liquids - the red gascan on its side that was kind of smouldering was a dead give-away - and had managed to douse himself. For all his superior gifts and talents, Clark Kent had a serious case of the un-gracefuls. To be fair, Chloe admitted grudgingly, it would probably take a lot to get used to all those gifts. Namely all that height. If she were Clark, she'd probably still be tripping over her own feet too.

"No, it's okay!" He flailed his hand really fast, trying to put the flame out. Somehow, that didn't work and his arm glowed a little blue. He squeaked and went into superspeed for a second, getting most of the flames out.

Chloe glanced down at Shelby just in time to catch the dog staring, in askance, back at her. Can you believe this idiot?

They both turned to stare back at the smoking Kryptonian in front of them. It was disconcerting having that much in common with a geriatric golden retriever. Still.

"Are you okay, Clark?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" He was hopping around on one foot, trying to put the shoe that was still on fire out. It wasn't working.

"You'd think he'd remember that he can breathe ice, huh, Shelby?"

The dog barked.

"I'm FINE!"

Chloe just sighed and walked up the back steps, opening the door for Shelby. "And that's why you didn't stop, drop, and roll, Clark? They teach that in school when you're like, five."

The sheepish silence that followed said everything, really.

"Hey, Mrs. Kent, did you know your son just set himself on fire?"

-fin-

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