Once again, thanks to our great BRs and everyone else who encouraged it.
The last hard scene finally popped into place, so we'll be posting on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
There is a picture of 'Friends' in the first part now, for those who would like a face to go with the names.
Without further ado...
From Part 1:
Superman... now there was a thought. Maybe he knew where she could find Clark, if only for the reason of giving him a piece of her mind. Of course, she'd have to find Superman. The superhero had been spending all his time in New York lately and now that she thought about it, he hadn't visited her since he'd left five months ago.
In frustration, she tossed the empty carton across the room and watched it barely miss the kitchen sink. Oh goody! Another mess to clean up. She looked at the pimples on her face and frowned. If she was going to hunt down Clark, then she'd better stop eating all this junk food and get back to a healthier diet. It would take her at least a week to make all the arrangements if she was going to take a trip to New York.
Her heart lightened briefly as she wondered if one of her sorority sisters still lived in New York. It was worth a try.
*****
Part 2:
*****
Rachel sipped on a cup of coffee, dreading another day of work at Bloomindale's. She was tired of her job and *so* wanted to find something new.
"Mon, what would you think if I quit my job?"
"Well, my first thought would be 'how would you pay your half of the rent'? but otherwise I think you might be happier somewhere else."
"Well, I wouldn't quit without having something else, but this isn't my dream job like head chef at Alessandro's is for you."
Chandler sat down next to them, smoothing his tie as he spoke. "You could do what I do."
Monica turned to look at him. "And just what *do* you do, Chandler?"
"Well, I um, well, I um..." He shifted uncomfortably. "It has something to do with numbers..."
Ross entered the coffee house and flopped himself in one of the chairs. "Emily, *still* hasn't called."
"What do you expect, Ross? You said your ex-girlfriend's name during your vows." Monica put a hand on her brother's arm.
"That was *months* ago and we've talked since then, but she hasn't called in like 2 weeks. She said she had a few more things to think about and then she'd call back." He slumped even further. "I don't *wanna* be the two divorce guy!"
"Well, the first one isn't technically your fault. I mean who would have known that Carol was..." Chandler stopped as Ross glared at him.
Ross covered his head with his hands and groaned. "Do we *really* have to bring up my first wife's orientation so often?"
"Well, you have to admit it *is* kinda funny."
"I don't think it is and I'm afraid that my bosses aren't being very understanding. They're going to fire me if I'm not careful."
Rachel stood and stretched. "Why would they fire you, Ross?"
"Because I'm too distracted or something like that."
"What?" Chandler sipped at his cup. "Not much market for depressed paleontologists?"
"Well, I'm sure it'll be fine." Rachel picked up her purse and her to go cup. "I've got to get to work. I'll see you guys later." She moved to step over Monica's feet but didn’t step high enough. She tripped and the lid came off her coffee cup and landed smack in the middle of Ross' lap.
Ross jumped up and tried to brush at his pant. "OW! OW! OW!"
"Omigod!! Ross, I am so sorry!" Rachel looked frantically for some napkins. "Are you okay?"
Ross fumbled with his belt buckle, then his button and pulled down his pants.
"ROSS!" The cry came from all sides.
Ross tugged his shirt down to cover his underwear, cursing the fact that all of his boxers were in the laundry.
"IT HURTS!"
Monica held her hand up to shield herself from the sight of her brother's legs. "Pull them back up anyway!"
"ROSS! No pants! I like it!" Joey walked into the coffee house, with Phoebe on his heels, and immediately began to undo the buttons on his jeans.
"JOEY! NO!" The cry again came from all sides as Joey continued to struggle.
"Damn button-flys." He looked up. "What? Why not? Ross has his pants off!"
Rachel sighed and flung her hair over one shoulder. "I've got to go. I'll see you guys later."
Monica explained to Joey what had happened and he reluctantly buttoned his jeans back up, taking the seat vacated by Rachel.
He perked up as he remembered his reason for coming to the coffee house in the first place. "I got a job!"
"Great!" "Awesome!" "Where at?"
"Well, I regot a job."
Monica raised an eyebrow at him. "How do you 'reget' a job?"
"Well, Drake Ramoray is coming back for a couple of days on Days. They said they might make it permanent again. AND WILL YOU STOP STARING AT ME?"
Phoebe started. "Oh, sorry. I was just trying to see you as a button-fly kinda guy. And the image just isn't there."
"Well, these aren't my jeans. They're Chander's. Mine were all dirty."
"Oh, well, yeah. Chandler is definitely a button-fly guy."
"And on *that* note..." Chandler stood. "It's time for me to go do my number thing."
"Yeah, and I've got to change before I head to work." Ross finally pulled up his pants.
"Me too." Monica took one long last drink of her coffee. "We've go a big party coming in tonight and we're going to be short-handed as it is."
"You're leaving me?" Joey whined. "I just got here!"
"I'm not going anywhere." Phoebe informed him. "I don't have to give *any* massages today."
They waved as their friends left Central Perk.
Joey eyed his blond friend. "You know, you could give *me* a massage today."
"Joey, you know I don't do *those* kinds of massages."
"No, really, I'm serious. I could use one to help me relax before I head back to work. I'm nervous. I really want to do well, so they'll make it a regular role again."
Phoebe grinned. "Well, okay then. Let's go!" She grabbed his hand and they left the coffee house.
*****
Clark walked down the few steps into Bloomingdale's men's department. He had a meeting with his publisher later that afternoon and his parents were coming in the next day. Earlier that morning he'd realized that he hadn't worn anything but sweat shorts and T-shirts since he moved in. If he was going to show his folks the town he needed to be presentable.
He'd opened his closet door and everything that stared back at him reminded him of his former life... in Metropolis... with *her*.
He'd only been back a couple of times as Superman and he'd left quickly, not giving any interviews, telling reporters on one occasion that he was often needed elsewhere and wouldn't be speaking with them as much as he had in the past. He'd rather have not gone at all, but people would get suspicious if Superman and Clark both disappeared from Metropolis at the same time. And he really couldn't have ignored that warehouse fire – not with toxic chemicals involved.
Fortunately, he had enough money saved up to go on a mini-shopping spree for some new clothes and Bloomingdale's seemed like the place to go.
He piddled around pulling out that shirt, discarding those pants, unsure of what he really wanted.
"Um, excuse me. Can I help you?"
The voice startled him, but he managed to put a smile on his face as he turned around. He was surprised when his heart skipped a beat. Well, maybe not a whole beat but at least half of one. There was a lovely young woman standing there looking at him with mild amusement.
"Actually, I'm looking for some new clothes but I'm not quite sure what I want."
"I could tell. How about I help you find something?" She smiled at him and her eyelashes fluttered just a bit.
If Clark didn't know better, he'd think she was flirting with him.
As he followed her towards a rack of shirts, the thought occurred to him. Why couldn't she be flirting with him? He was a moderately attractive man – or so he'd been told – and she had no idea that he was still pining over a lost love.
And why was he still pining anyway? It had been months since *she* chose *him* to be with. She'd obviously moved on and so should he. He made up his mind, then and there, that what might have been was not going to keep him from what might be.
*****
Rachel couldn't believe it when he turned around. It was hot shorts guy! She'd watched him practically every night since he moved in to ugly naked guy's apartment. Sure, it was voyeuristic, but he made it so darn easy, sitting there on the couch in sweat shorts that tended to ride up just a bit and when he was shirtless... Well, it was safe to say that she, Monica and Phoebe were glad that he'd rearranged the living room so the couch faced the window.
She wondered if he had any idea that he was spied on and decided that he didn't. If so, he'd pull the curtains shut more often. It was just as well that he had no idea – there were so many days that the eye candy just hit the spot.
She reached a rack of Ralph Lauren clothing and stopped, turning to make sure that he was following. "We haven't been properly introduced." She held out her hand. "I'm Rachel."
"Clark. Clark Kent." His hand was strong and his grip was firm but gentle at the same time. She felt her breath being taken away by just that small amount of contact.
"Well, Mr. Kent..." She was surprised when he interrupted her.
"Call me Clark, please. Mr. Kent is my dad." He smiled at her.
She lost her train of thought completely. That smile wasn't done justice across the street and through two windows. Up close and in person she realized that it could light up a room.
A hand waved in front of her face and she was brought quickly back to reality. "Oh, sorry. Clark. Right. What kinds of things are you looking for today?"
"Well, my closet needs a complete makeover. I have a meeting with my publisher this afternoon and my parents are coming in town tomorrow and they want me to show them around. I need a suit, certainly, and some clothes for a night out but not too fancy. I'm taking them to a couple restaurants and to a play."
Rachel looked around and an idea formed in her mind. "Let's see – first thing we need to do is measure you." She went to the counter and picked up a measuring tape. She was very good at determining the size of a customer by sight alone, but she wasn't about to pass up the chance to measure *Clark*. She sighed waffily and then hurried to his side as she noticed a sales clerk finishing up a sale. No way that she was going to let someone else horn in on this sale! Besides Jodie was a man-grubbing little hussy and she wasn't going to get her hands on Clark!
"Okay, Clark," she said, returning to his side. "Let's figure out what size you are."
"Okay."
"Let's start with your arms. Hold them straight out." Clark complied and she skimmed one hand along his arm, relishing the feel of hard flesh underneath the loose fabric of his shirt. She stopped at his shoulder, where the seam would fall and held the other end at his wrist then looked at the number. "Well, you'll need a 'long'. How about chest size? Keep your arms up."
She stood next to him, standing slightly on her tiptoes. She reached around with both arms until her hands met on the other side of his broad chest. She was incredibly tempted to just run her hands over his chest and back, imagining what it would be like to be in those incredibly strong arms of his, but tried to remain professional and just take the measurement. "Well, 44 Long it is."
Rachel took a deep breath trying to calm her fluttering heart beat before measuring his waist. "Now for pants." She reached around his waist – not as difficult this time – and.... "34 inch waist." Another deep breath in. She knelt down then looked up at him, tossing a bit of hair back over her shoulder. "Um, I don't suppose you know your inseam do you?"
Clark laughed. That was a very nice laugh. He held out his hand to her and she gladly grasped onto it for support as she stood. "34 there too."
Was it her imagination or did he hold on for just a smidge longer than necessary?
"Now for your neck." Rachel stood in front of him and stood on her toes until she could reach up around his neck. Her arms stretched around until they met in the back. As she pulled the tape measure towards the front of his body, she stumbled just a bit. It was an accident but oh what an accident it was!
Her hands rested against his strong chest, her body against his. It only took a fraction of a second for him to wrap his arms around her to keep her from collapsing completely.
"Are you okay?" His breath was soft on her face, playing just a bit with the tendrils of hair along the sides of her forehead.
Rachel was amazed at how gentle his hands were as they rested on her waist, steadying her after her almost fall. She knew she would carry this moment in her mind for a long time to come. The imprint of his fingers on her hips would last for an eternity. She'd never take a shower again.
She looked up and was amazed to find concern in his eyes. She'd only known him for a few minutes but he appeared to be genuinely concerned about her well-being.
"Are you okay?" he repeated.
She shook her head just a bit and stepped slightly back. "Uh, yeah. Um, do you know your neck size? This is just a bit too dangerous for me."
"17."
Was it just her or was there something palpable in the air?
She managed to tear her eyes off those deep chocolate pools she was finally getting a good look at, stepping reluctantly out of the circle of his arms, and turned to pull out a pair of pants. "I think these will look good on you. You won't want to dry them, because they'll shrink, but that's okay." She wound her way through the racks towards the nearby rounder of shirts. She pulled one out and held it up next to the pants she'd selected. "Extra large?"
"Yep."
"Well, why don't you try this on and we'll see how it fits and go from there." She led him to the changing area and showed him to a fitting room. "I'll be out here when you finish changing."
As soon as the door shut behind him, Rachel felt her knees go weak and she grabbed on to the counter to support herself. IT WAS HOT SHORTS GUY! She reached for the phone, muttering to herself, "Answer! Answer!"
"HI! You've reached Monica and Rachel's..."
Dang it! Monica wasn't home! Who was she going to tell about this?! She hit the hang up button and started to dial Phoebe's number when she heard the door open behind her. Wow! He was a fast changer!
"Well?"
She turned and almost gasped. He had no right to look that good! How was a girl to keep a coherent thought in her head?!
"Wow!"
"That's good then?" She watched as he looked critically at himself in the full length, three-sided mirror.
"You look very nice, Clark."
"Really?"
"Yeah." She brushed her hands along the back of his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his muscles under her hands. "See how this hangs off of your shoulders? And where the cuffs hit on your wrists? That's just the right size." She tugged a little at the waistband of the pants and ran her hands lightly down the sides. "These fit perfectly right through your hips. Not too loose, not too tight. We'll have to get you a belt to go with them, but that's no big deal."
She bent down as gracefully as she could and straightened out the hems, giggling a little to herself as he flexed his toes a bit. "When you're not wearing shoes, you want the hem to almost reach the floor. These are just the right length." She looked up at his reflection in the mirror. "What do you think?"
He stood with his hands on his hips and studied himself in the glass. "I think I like it."
She stood up, noting how their reflections looked next to each other in the mirror. "Why don't you go back in and I'll get you a couple more things to try?"
Over the course of the next hour, Rachel found herself telling Clark all about herself, while learning relatively little about him. Oh, he talked about growing up in Smallville, but very little about what he'd done after that, just that he was most recently from Metropolis and that he was a writer. Of course, she already knew that last bit of information, but it wouldn't do to let on that she'd watched him with his laptop on more than one occasion.
He'd had his heart broken, and fairly recently at that. Oh, he hadn't said so but she knew. It was in the way he said, or didn't say, certain things, particularly about his time in Metropolis. Well, she could help him deal with that. If he'd let her.
"Well, Clark, I think you're all set." Rachel folded each of the articles of clothing as she rang them up. She saw him blanch a bit as the total continued to rise. She took a deep breath, she wasn't really supposed to do this – only for family and they turned a blind eye towards the occasional close friend – but this was an exception. For Pete's sake, she spent more time with – okay, okay, looking at – Clark than just about anyone. She typed in a number after she'd rung everything up and 20% of the total suddenly disappeared.
"What was that?"
"That was the 'you're a really nice guy who looks like he needs a break' discount."
"What?" He shifted uncomfortably. "You don't have to do that."
"I know, but I want to."
"Rachel, really, I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."
"Oh, don't worry about it." She waved him off then lowered her voice. "I'm thinking about looking for another job anyway. Besides, I'm not undoing it so you'll just have to deal with it."
Clark smiled at her and handed her a card. "Thanks, Rachel. You're the best."
She handed him his card back and the piece of paper to sign. "Well, I don't know about *that*..."
He laughed. What a wonderful laugh! "Well, I'm grateful anyway."
A voice called from across the store. She looked up into his beautiful eyes. "I guess I better go." Her voice was softer than she'd intended.
"Me too." He held out his hand and she grasped it gladly.
"I hope things go well with your publisher." She couldn't tear her eyes – or her hand – away.
"I'm sure they will."
"And I hope your parents have fun while they're here too."
"They will."
The voice was more insistent now. He didn't seem to want to let go either. "I've really got to go."
"Maybe I'll see you around, Rachel."
"I hope so." She reluctantly let go of his hand and watched his retreating back as long as possible, smiling when he turned to smile at her one last time.
*****
Clark left Bloomingdale's with several bags of new clothes. It had made a sizeable dent in his savings, but if things went as he hoped, he'd get an advance on his manuscript this afternoon.
He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering back to the lovely young lady who had helped him. Rachel was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. And she was certainly interested in him. But was he ready to move on?
Well, he knew his sizes, but he hadn't thought twice about letting her take his measurements. And holding her when she fell *had* been kind of nice.
Maybe he'd take the chance. If he saw her again, maybe he'd ask her out.
*****
TBC
