wrongkindofsith | Room 418, Sunday Morning

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Room 418, Sunday Morning

The advantage of staying holed up in your room over the weekend without even a radio was that you could remain completely unaware of the weirdness Fandom had chosen to inflict upon its residents the day before.

Inversely, the disadvantage of staying holed up in your room over the weekend without even a radio was that you could remain completely unaware of the weirdness Fandom had chosen to inflict upon its residents the day before.

Soon enough Cara would remember just why Mord'Sith didn't subscribe to the view that ignorance was bliss, but right now she was much more interested in curling in closer to the other person in her bed. Purely for warmth. Really.

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Of course there was no other reason for Cara to want to be closer to Clark. He was like a nice furnace to cuddle with early in the morning. And he had absolutely no need to get up since there were no chores to do or people to rescue in Fandom.

Given the number of people with hero complexes in Fandom, Cara would have considered it quite reasonable for someone who wasn't keeping her bed warm to do any necessary saving on mornings like this.

Not that she'd actually say that out loud since it got looks. So instead she was just going to enjoy the fact that draping herself on top of Clark meant she probably wasn't going to have anything landing on her this morning.

Clark would really like to argue firmly that he didn't land on her so much as he somehow lifted from the bed and...fell in his sleep. It was like when people had bad dreams.

Uh huh.

Cara knew bad dreams, and not once had hers made her float.

She would suggest that it was an entirely different kind of dream that made a person rise off a bed, but she kept getting the breath knocked out of her when six-foot-plus of farmboy landed on her.

He would work on catching himself, but he didn't really like heights all that much and practice would mean like, hurling himself off a building or something and that didn't seem all too smart from the farmboy way of thinking.

To which Cara would point out that firstly, he was invulnerable so it didn't matter how many buildings he jumped off, and that secondly, one day he was going land on her one too many times and she was going to throw him off the roof for his own good.

This was not that day though. This was more of a half-asleep neck nuzzling day, comfortable and secure in the knowledge that very little could go wrong with that.

Nothing at all, what with the bed being all warm and no one doing anything on Sundays in this town.

Clark was totally chalking up any strange noises to living in a dorm with energetic teenagers not unlike himself.

You got very used to ignoring (and to be honest, causing) all sorts of strange noises in a Mord'Sith temple, so Cara wasn't going to be moving for anything that didn't sound like a joined battle.

Even then it would depend on just what kind of battle was being joined.

So it really was a pity that someone, or rather, two someones, had somehow managed to give Cleo the impression that knocking on closed doors was optional. Especially when you had enough strength that the main problem with locks was making sure no one was watching when you broke them.

The speed meant those same someones didn't really have a much of a chance to react to the door flying open before a wee blonde and plaid streak was on the bed trying to tackle hug them.

Clark had only been assaulted into wakefulness by one other small child in his time on the island.

And he never wanted to see that kid again.

"Oh crap," he muttered, tugging the sheet closer and blinking up, prayerful that this child was not that one. "Oh thank God! Um, hi kid!"

"Daddy!" Cleo grinned, moving to fling her arms around his neck. "I've been adventuring!"

The bits of leaf and bark stuck in her braids should give him a clue as to where she'd been adventuring instead of inflicting this particular trauma on them yesterday morning.

For her part, Cara was just going to stare at a the tiny blonde child calling Clark 'Daddy'. That was unexpected.

"I can see that," Clark replied, looking from blonde to blonde. "I'm guessing you were out being like Mommy, huh?"

"She can't be mine." At least Cara still had enough presence of mind to cut off the 'I had a son' in favour of "I have protection against getting with child."

She'd even had Zedd double-check said protection before she'd come here. Something neither of them was going to mention ever again.

Not that her protests kept Cleo from nodding and adding "And like Uncle Richard."

"Don't worry, Cara," he said. "She wants to be like Uncle Richard."

At least she wasn't another assbaby.

Odd how Cara wasn't particularly reassured by that. "There is a small child claiming you're her father," she was going to stay in denial about the other half of the girl's parentage for as long as possible, thank you very much. "How can you not be worried about that?"

"It's happened before," Clark replied, happy for once to know about the crazy in store. "Last year, after prom. I had a son." Who had called him 'mom.'

And again with the lack of reassurance. "So there might be more of them?"

There was absolutely no reason Cara sounded even more stressed out. None at all. Especially since she still wasn't admitting this girl was hers.

"I don't want a brother." Cleo was not particularly enamoured of the idea either. "Boys are stupid."

"Not if we're lucky," Clark murmured. "So, kiddo, what do we call you when we're... dressed and older and not confused by your presence?"

"Cleo Kent," she answered promptly, sticking her hand out since that's what you were supposed to do when your introduced yourself, even to your own parents.

Just ignore that odd strangled sound Cara wasn't making for no reason whatsoever.

Clark paused in shaking his daughter's hand to check on Cara. "Hey, you doing okay? Cleo just wants to meet you." No, he didn't have any clue the significance of that name.

Well, the first name didn't hold any significance for Cara either, but if she was going to even potentially accept that the girl was hers, then her having a last name at all had implications that she really didn't want to go into. "I'm fine."

This was a blatant lie.

Like Clark had any clue what he was supposed to do to get a Mord'Sith be okay with randomly appearing children. Instead he thought he'd get the kid to fix it.

"I bet Cleo knows how to make you more than fine, huh Cleo?" She seemed like a huggy sort of child, being related to him.

Given that you could quite make a case for Cara being even more repressed than your usual Mord'Sith, that was hardly Clark's fault.

Luckily Cleo knew exactly what to do. She even knew to be gentler than she'd been tackling Clark, given he was the less breakable one.

A long time ago Cara had actually been a huggy sort of child herself, with a father who'd encouraged that kind of thing (which once she'd let herself think about it was not helping matters one bit) so she had been able to guess where this was heading the second Clark had opened his mouth.

That didn't stop her getting the wind knocked out of her when the tiny child tackled her in a hug though. "She very strong," she said awkwardly, as she tried to figure out just how to react. "Fast too."

"Makes it difficult to deny," Clark agreed. "I tried to last time till there was arm wrestling and I had to order up a new desk." Oops!

"Let's not try that," Cara said. "If we're going to break the desk I'd prefer it to be while doing something more interesting."

That was probably not the most appropriate comment to make around a small child, even if their reaction was simply giggling against Cara's neck.

"Hey now, no fair saying stuff like that in front of the little one," Clark told her, trying to hide his farmboy red cheeks. "Otherwise I'll be helping her hug you till you beg for mercy."

That might be one of the few things that would make her beg for mercy. Not that that stopped her from saying "You wouldn't dare."

Clark shot her a wink, not wanting to freak Cara out more than required of the weekend. "Oh we dare. Right Cleo?"

Cleo grinned and him nodded. Not that she'd actually let go of Cara yet.

"Clark." The warning tone in her voice would probably be more effective were she not currently being pinned by a five year old.

It wasn't like he was going to crush her, just add himself to the little group hug. Clark thought it was all very innocent and definitely sweet.

If Cara agreed with him, she wasn't going to admit to it. "You're going to pay for this," she threatened instead.

Not that she was making much of an effort to escape.

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Room 418, Sunday Morning

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