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What a Gentleman Desires TOC

Part 2

Part 3

With Clark’s good luck – or bad luck had Bobby not opened his eyes – Clark had been able to get Mayson to leave their ‘date’ at Café Americana before it had even begun with a few innocent questions about her former boss Bill Church, CEO of Cost Mart. Then, after a few scary moments in the courtroom when it had appeared that Mayson was as dirty as Lois had initially thought, Mayson had become their secret source in the District Attorney’s office on Intergang. Martin Snell had been arrested, Baby Rage’s trial scheduled, and Lois’s uncle Mike’s restaurant saved from the Southside gangs.

Everything was good in Clark’s world again.

Lois had realized that Clark’s judgment wasn’t swayed by a pair of brown eyes that weren’t her own. They were still together, at least as partners. Nothing could stop them now!

Clark knocked on Lois’s door to pick her up for the Cost Mart Ball, of all things. Her uncle Mike had been hired to cater it. Clark was hoping to catch Lois’s eye with his tuxedo, even though she had seen him in one before. Perry had said that Alice got amorous when he put on his monkey suit. That was more of a reaction than Clark was hoping for from Lois, but a flirtatious smile would be nice.

The admiration she usually saved for Superman would be nicer.

“Who’s there?” Lois’s voice tentatively asked through the door.

“It’s me, Lois,” he replied, his brow furrowing.

“Clark?” she positively squealed.

“No, it’s Prince Charming here to escort you to the ball,” he said wryly.

“What are you doing here?”

Hadn’t they arranged to go together? Or had he merely assumed that they would? They always went to these parties together. “Lois, can you let me in?” he asked.

“No!” she exclaimed. “I’m…I’m not ready. Yes, not ready. You better go on without me, Clark.”

“I can wait,” he said. The dance wouldn’t be any fun without her.

“I’ll be a while,” she replied. “I… I… uh… tore my dress.”

“Don’t you have another dress?” he asked.

“Clark, I bought this one especially for the ball,” Lois returned.

So? “I’m sure you will be lovely in whatever you wear.”

“Oh, Clark!” she practically sobbed through the door. “You don’t understand. You’ll never understand.”

He set his hand on the wood of her door. He had to admit that when it came to women and the panic they put themselves in over their clothing, he was a novice of understanding. His mother never seemed to worry about such things and he had no sisters to torment him with such experiences as a teenager.

“Please, Lois. Let me help,” he said. She was in crisis. He could hear it in her voice. Every fiber of his being wanted to be the one who rescued her.

“No!” she gasped, and then said, almost shrilly, “You can’t come in here.”

Something was wrong. Was someone holding her captive? Clark wanted nothing more than to glance through the door to reassure himself of her safety, but he didn’t. What if she wasn’t lying and was standing on the other side in her underwear. That would be a huge violation of her trust, so he refrained from lowering his glasses. He steeled his voice, “Lois, is everything all right?”

“No,” she said softly. “But there’s nothing you can do.”

“I’m pretty good with a thread and needle,” he said, twisting two fingers behind his back as he skirted very close to the edge between truth and lie. Could he use a needle and thread? Yes. Was he good at it? Not particularly.

“Thank you, Clark, but this isn’t some problem you can solve,” Lois replied. “You better head on to the party, Clark. Mayson will be there. I’m sure she’ll want to dance with you.”

But I only want to dance with you, he wanted to say aloud, but didn’t.

“I know I do,” he heard her whisper to herself so softly that any other man wouldn’t have heard her.

It was at that moment he realized he had totally disregarded some of the vital information Bobby Bigmouth had imparted to him.

Clark took a deep breath and exhaled. This was it. Whatever her response would be to his next words would determine whether he would continue on to the dance and to Mayson as Lois said that she wished. “But I would rather dance with you.”

*

Oh, God! Why now?

Lois’s cheek leaned against the cold wood of her front door. She turned her face to peer through her peephole at him once more. He hadn’t just said what she thought he had, had he? She brushed away a tear from her cheek and sniffled her nose, wiping it on the sleeve of her schlumpy robe. She must have misunderstood him.

“Clark…”

“Yes, Lois?” he said, looking at her door as if he knew she was watching him. Why did he have to be so handsome? She could see the expression of anticipation on his face. It was edged with dejection as if he hung on her very next words and that gave her courage.

“I’m not dressed,” she confessed.

“I don’t mind,” he said. A streak of horror crossed his face as he flushed redder than Superman shorts. “I mean, I don’t mind waiting until you get dressed.”

Lois smiled, as a feeling of everything would be all right washed over her. Then, she froze, realizing that she couldn’t let Clark see her like this.

“I’m going to unlock the door, but I want you to wait until the count of fifteen before coming inside,” she said, raising her hand to her top most lock.

“I can do that,” he replied with a determined nod.

She unlocked the bolt. “And you must stay in the living room.”

“Come on, Lois. It’s me, not some peeping Tom.”

“You’re a reporter, Clark…”

“Thanks for noticing,” grumbled the smart aleck.

Lois ignored him as she unlocked another lock. “And a reporter is known for his or her unquenchable curiosity.”

“I knew you wanted to see what I look like in my new tux,” Clark teased.

“I have a peephole, Clark,” she reminded him, using it once more to glance out at him.

“No matter how you look, Lois,” he said. “I will still love you.”

Her hand on her next lock halted. “What?!” Her heart was thumping so loud in her chest that it caused the blood to rush through her head. Closing her eyes, she rested her head upon the door, again. “Please, don’t say ‘like a sister’. Please,” she whispered. “Not ‘like a sister’.”

“No matter how you look, it won’t change how I feel about you,” he amended. It was still nice, but not as thrilling as his declaration of love had been.

“Of course it wouldn’t,” she said, her voice cracking. She turned the last lock, and said, “Count slowly.”

“One Merriweather Award. Two Merriweather Awards. Three…”

Lois hurried down the hall to her bedroom as quickly as she could move. She heard her front door open and close. She dove into her closet to search for something to wear.

“Hello?” Clark said.

“Still not ready!” she called. Lois already knew what she had available hanging from her rack, so she started pulling down boxes from her shelves to search through them.

“Do you need any help?” he asked a few minutes later.

“NO!” she emphatically reminded him. The last thing she wanted was for him to peek into her bedroom as she sat on the floor in her schlumpy robe and dug through boxes. “Feel free to put on some music.” If they couldn’t dance at the ball, perhaps Clark would concede to do so here.

There was no response to her request, and she wished she had Superman’s ability to look through walls. Finally, she found something that might work, if only temporarily.

Lois went into her bathroom to start over on her hair. When she opened her bathroom door again, a towel wrapped tightly around her head, she could hear the soft, sultry sounds of some smooth jazz. Clark had found her stereo. Good.

“Fly me to the moon and let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars,” crooned the singer.

She smiled and leaned against her wall for a moment, thinking of Superman. How could she not with this song? Then she remembered that she had Clark.

Waiting for her.

In her living room.

Lois gulped. She took a deep breath. “I love this song,” she called out to him.

“So do I,” he replied. “But I think the lyrics should be ‘dance among the stars’.”

She started to hum, moving to the rhythm of the tune, as she padded out towards her living room.

Dance amongst the stars. The only way she would be able to do that was with Superman.

Superman!

Lois placed a hand to her cheek as she bit down on her bottom lip with indecision. What was she doing?

Out of the shadows of her hall, she gazed into her living room and saw Clark. He had his back towards her, but she could see him swaying to the music.

Right.

Clark.

Her heart started to flutter in that way that only Clark could make it do. Superman made her heart pound, but with Clark, her heart felt as if it could take flight. Clark didn’t need Superman’s powers to fly her to the moon. He only needed to…

“In other words, hold my hand,” the singer continued. “In other words, darling, kiss me.”

Yeah. That.

He turned and peered down the hall towards her, and she slunk further back into the shadows. “Ready?” he asked.

Oh, God, no. Lois moved a hand up to her head, touched her towel.

Clark took a step towards her. “You’re not dressed,” he said.

“No,” she admitted, and then raised a finger before turning back to her room. “Stay in the living room.”

“Lois, is everything all right?” he asked. “You seem…”

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see him shake his head as if he didn’t know what she seemed.

Lois knew how she felt. Unsure. Unconfident. Scared. An idiot. Oh so wrong.

But the one thing she knew about Clark, one of the things that most endeared him to her, was that he would never use any of those words to describe her. Especially the last one, if he knew what was good for him.

“Flustered,” he finally finished.

She smiled, loving him more. “Typical Clark,” she murmured, stepping into her bedroom. She did feel flustered. “I wonder what it would take to fluster you.”

“You.”

Lois opened her bedroom door and stared back at him. He was leaning against the corner of her wall where her hall met her living room. “Excuse me?” she asked. He couldn’t possibly have heard her.

Her question seemed to startle him and he straightened up, tugging down on his jacket. “Um… do you need me… to…uh… do anything?”

“Stay in the living room,” she commanded with a poke of her index finger towards him.

*

“Stay in the living room,” Clark echoed with a roll of his eyes.

He moved back into the living room. He had no idea what was taking Lois so long to get ready. It wasn’t as if this was some important shindig like the Kerth Awards Banquet. It was just some charity party, hosted by the Daily Planet and Inter… Cost Mart. Just with a quick count on his fingers, he could recall over ten occasions he had seen her dressed to the nines, and that was when she hadn’t been undercover. Therefore, he knew it wasn’t an issue with not having anything to wear.

He liked that Lois wasn’t one of those women who fretted constantly about her wardrobe, and usually seemed to take no time whatsoever to get ready and yet always looked amazing. What made tonight different, he wondered. He glanced down at his watch. Was he early? Nope. If they didn’t get out of there soon, Perry would send a posse after them.

Clark couldn’t believe she had heard him answer her rhetorical question about what flustered him. He chuckled. Well, she had proved his answer correct, hadn’t she?

“Clark?” Lois called from her bedroom, causing him to spin around in anticipation, but she still hadn’t left her room.

“Yes?”

“What is the name of that girl in the photo on your bookshelf at home?”

His brow furrowed. What girl? What photo? What bookshelf? “I don’t…” he sputtered, sitting down on her settee.

“The girl with blonde hair to her shoulders. You had a photo album on your bookshelf in your room back in Smallville. She featured prominently in the latter half of the album,” Lois clarified.

She had looked through his high school photo album? He shook his head, but not in disbelief or surprise at Lois. Of course, Lois went through his photo album. The disbelief was aimed at himself for not realizing that she would have gone through everything in his old bedroom in Smallville. “Lana?” he guessed, even though he knew it couldn’t be anyone else.

“Lana,” Lois repeated. “Who is she?”

“Um… just some girl I dated off and on in high school. Why?”

“Was she the one who got away?” she probed.

What was with the twenty questions? “No, I was,” he replied, laying his hand across the back of the settee. A stray thought crossed his mind. “Are you wondering if she’s the first girl I kissed behind the Frosty Freeze? Because the answer is ‘no’ on that as well.”

“You kissed more than one girl behind the Frosty Freeze?” Lois retorted with humor, clearly disbelieving the possibility.

“Oh, you caught me, Lois,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I was the Cat Grant or Casanova of Smallville. The girls all lined up behind the Frosty Freeze to kiss me.” He laughed. “They all wept the day I graduated and went off to Mid-West University.”

“Really?”

“No, not really,” he said with a chuckle. “Smallville doesn’t even have a Frosty Freeze franchise.”

Lois laughed. “You mean it’s a real business? I thought I made it up.”

Clark was pleasantly surprised at how relaxed she sounded when admitting to being wrong or making a mistake. It was refreshing. Whatever had been bothering her before seemed to have faded into the woodwork. “Why are you curious about Lana?” he asked.

“Well…” she hesitated before continuing. “You’re the most courteous man I know. You’re polite, kind, sweet, generous, giving, and humble. You treat every woman you meet with respect and compassion…”

“Only the women?” he asked, wondering which man he had offended.

“Sorry. You’re right. You treat everyone you meet with respect. You, Clark Kent, are the epitome of a modern gentleman,” she said. He could hear her high heels walking down the hall.

Clark wondered what he had done to receive this outpouring of praise. From Lois, no less. “Thank you, Lois, but I doubt I deserve such high esteem.”

“Did I mention ‘modest’?” she said, her footsteps pausing in the hall.

He blushed, which stopped him from glancing over his shoulder at her.

Lois took a deep breath and exhaled, before stepping out into the living room. “So, I wondered if the old saying still held true. Do gentlemen prefer blondes?”

Clark’s eyes widened and his head snapped quickly to look over his shoulder. He stumbled to his feet, his eyes staring, and his mouth hanging agog.

Lois stood before him in a silver evening gown, looking ravenously beautiful as always, only now with platinum blonde curls.

Her beaming smile faltered as he continued to stare at her without saying a word. “So?”

So, what? Clark had no idea what to say.

*

Clark continued to stare at her with that stunned expression. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and he clearly wasn’t going to help her by saying anything.

Lois pinched her lips together. So, gentlemen preferred blondes, but Clark preferred someone else to her. She got the message. “I’m sure Mayson’s waiting to dance with you at the ball,” she said, returning down hall.

“No! Lois, wait,” he said, following her. “You.”

She stopped and turned to face him, causing him to collide with her and knock her off her feet. He caught her, as if holding her in a low dip.

“You, Lois,” he said, his lips hovering just above hers. “I liked you as a brunette, but if you prefer being blonde…”

Lois pushed out of his arms and marched through her bedroom door, slamming it in his face. She couldn’t believe he had gone there. There of all places!

Clark knocked on her door. “Lois! Please, talk to me.”

“No!” she yelled, plopping down on her bed and dropping her head into her hands. “I can’t believe you said that, Clark Kent.”

The knob of her door turned, and he strode in.

Lois stood up and pointed out the door. “Get out!”

“No, Lois. If you’re going to be in here, then I’m not leaving until we’ve talked this through,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

“Fine. You want to talk, then talk, Mr. Always Right,” she growled.

“I didn’t say that. Don’t put words into my mouth, Lois.”

“I’m not. You did say it,” she said, plopping back down on the bed. “You said exactly what you said you’d say.”

He shook his head as he knelt down beside her. “I don’t know…”

“You made me into the ghastly red head!” she snapped.

“The ghastly red…?” Clark echoed in confusion before his eyes widened. “Oh, God, Lois. Is this some kind of test?”

“Test? No, this isn’t a test,” she said snidely, although she was lying through her teeth. This was a test to see if he would like her now that she had blonde hair and she had failed beyond her wildest nightmares. She dropped her face back into her hands so he wouldn’t see how freely the tears were falling from her eyes. She was humiliated, that was all. The tears couldn’t possibly be from her broken heart.

“It is a test. You’re trying to see if I’d still love you with blonde hair, aren’t you? You wanted to know if I’m one of those shallow guys, who can’t see past some woman’s looks and see into her heart. Well, I’m here to say…”

Lois looked up and into his eyes. “You love me?”

“I…” Clark sputtered, suddenly getting this adorable deer in the headlights expression on his face. His expression softened and he raised a hand to her cheek, cupping it and running a thumb under her eye to wipe away her tears. “Of course I love you, Lois Lane. There is only you.”

“Then why on earth were you kissing Mayson Drake?” she asked.

“I… She kissed me. Anyway, you told me to,” Clark said. “I didn’t want to kiss her.”

Lois held up a hand to stop him from sticking his foot further down his throat. “First of all, I most certainly did not tell you to kiss her, and secondly, you didn’t discourage Mayson from kissing you.”

Clark groaned and his shoulders slumped. “But you said to stop ‘repeating myself’ and to ‘try something new’,” he explained. “So Mayson was that ‘something new’.”

“Yes!” Lois said, throwing her hands up into the air, and then crashed them back down on his shoulders, wanting to throttle him. “No!”

He looked even more lost. “So, stop trying to get you to love me and find someone new, but not Mayson?”

“No, Clark!” Lois said, trying to speak calmly. She grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Stop chasing after blondes and try a brunette for once. I’m not a blonde!”

“Oh, thank God!” Clark exclaimed, embracing her. “It’s a wig, then?”

“Um… yes,” she replied in a small voice, burying her face in his neck.

He turned her face towards his. “You asked if I preferred blondes or brunettes. The truth of the matter is I prefer you, and only you. Whether you have black, brown, yellow, orange, red, or purple polka dotted hair, I would love you just the same.”

Lois smiled through her tears. “I love you, too, Clark.”

A burst of sunshine appeared disguised as Clark’s smile. Lois had to close her eyes so it wouldn’t blind her. He tilted her head in his hands and brushed his lips softly against hers. Lois greedily opened her mouth and deepened the kiss.

It was more wonderful than she remembered. It had been worth all the heartache and sorrow to take this chance on love. She was so glad she did.

All too soon, Clark slowed the fervor of their kisses. “I should really let you freshen up,” he said, leaning his head against hers and speaking through panting breaths. “Take off the wig, so we can go to the ball.” He stood up and backed towards the door. “Perry is probably wondering where we are.”

Lois frowned, biting her bottom lip. “Do we have to?”

His brow furrowed. “You want to wear the wig?” he asked.

“No,” she said softly.

“Do you still have a tear in your dress? Because I wasn’t being exactly honest when I said I could sew,” he admitted bashfully. “Anyway, you look beautiful in this dress.”

It was now or never, she decided. The truth was going to come out eventually.

“This is the dress, Clark. It isn’t torn.” Lois reached up to her head and unpinned the wig. “I had forgotten I had this, so when I decided to get you to see the error of your ways in only falling for women with a certain hair color, I… I bleached my hair blonde first.” She slowly brought the wig down to her lap. “And I messed up.” She took a gulp of air, her eyes filling with tears again. “You know what they say, if at first you don’t succeed, dye and dye again.”

Clark stared at her in wonder, his head falling to the side. “Oh, Lois,” he murmured sympathetically. He knelt back down, giving her a soft kiss. “When I said polka dotted earlier, I never knew that it was actually possible.”

She slugged him. “You said that you loved me!”

“I do! I do!” he said, raising his hands in self-defense. “But I don’t have to love that hair.”

She glowered at him.

“We can fix this,” Clark insisted, taking her hands in his. “Together, we can accomplish anything.”

Lois smiled with relief, acknowledging silently that Clark had finally gotten something right.

***The End***

Comments

Disclaimer: Inspired by Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster’s characters as they were portrayed on the Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman television series, developed by Deborah Joy LeVine. The characters do not belong to me; they belong to themselves (although Warner Bros, DC Comics, and the heirs to Siegel and Shuster might disagree). The premise of the story – Lois dying her hair blonde – was KatherineKent’s and given to me to do with as I pleased (within reason). The way the words ended up arranged on the page are my own, except when I borrowed dialogue and scenes from “Church of Metropolis” written by John McNamara. Bart Howard wrote, “Fly me to the Moon” in 1954.

Many thanks to KatherineKent for her plot suggestion, as this story wouldn’t exist without it. Thanks, also, to Darth Michael for his beta read, so I could present this story with as few extra commas (and other errors) as possible.