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I've Got A Crush On You: Lois Lane
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He’s too close to her. Sitting next to her, his head just below hers, a perspective she’s not used to, his eyes locked (as it so often is) on her, and she should be moving away. Should be scared and upset and angry and ranting about anything and everything just so long as he puts some distance between them.

But she’s not scared, because this is Clark. There’s a smile curving his lips, and his voice was as light and teasing as the question called for, and he has no idea at all how transparent he is.

So hopeful. So patient. So touched.

And she can’t let him be hurt. Not like she was.

Because once, years ago, that was *her*. Hoping for attention from a more experienced reporter. Patiently biding her time as she waited for the chance to show that she was more than just a young intern. Touched by anything he threw her way, by the French-accented words he’d directed to her.

And when the end had come, it was quick and messy and so terribly painful and it’s still playing itself out in her life now, like electricity crackling down the line, energy that can’t be drained, only redirected.

This time, though, *she’s* the one with the power. She’s the one who’s being watched, who’s being adored from afar. She’s the one who can make or break this young reporter Perry thinks is so exciting.

And there’s a lot about herself she wishes she could change (those two more points she’s trying to earn to reach that full hundred percent), but if there’s one line she won’t cross, it’s this.

She won’t turn into Claude.

She already stole Clark’s story--she doesn’t need to break his heart too.

So she smirks at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she drawls out, drawing a line that sets them apart even though he’s still just as close to her as when he asked his question. “Me, home, alone, in a schlumpy robe, crying into a tub of Rocky Road. In your dreams, Kent. In your dreams.”

His smile dwindles, even if he holds onto the edges of it by sheer force of will. His eyes dim a bit. That hope he seems to exhibit even in his sleep takes the intended beating and slinks away to lick its wounds.

But it’s better this way. Clark might be a nice guy, and they might even work well together as a team (and he might be the most forgiving person she’s ever met), but there’s no chance for anything more. He’s not Superman, and she’s certainly not the type of woman he’s looking for, and in the end, she’s doing him a favor.

She won’t lead him on. She won’t let him think there’s more between them than there really is. And she won’t leave him in the middle of the night with a broken heart and a load of trust issues. She’s doing the right thing here, even if he doesn’t know it.

She only wishes he wouldn’t look quite so hurt every time she does it.

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