Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Wrong Clark (203/???)

Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

Where we left Lois in Part 202…

Lois woke at the same early time she did during the week, despite their late night and it being a Saturday. As she rubbed her eyes and stretched, she heard noises coming from her kitchen.

Was Clark up already? He had gotten less sleep than… no, cancel that. It was impossible that he got less sleep than she did. She had tossed and turned for hours after he went to bed in her guest room, blissfully unaware that she had invited him to share her bed. At least, she didn’t need to be humiliated that he had turned her down… again.

What was the matter with that man? Did she really want to share her life with a man who was dense on more than just on a cellular level?

Lois decided that she would face this dilemma head on. No more dancing around the subject. An idea on how to do just that popped into her head, so she threw back the covers to put the plan into action.

The toaster dinged just as she reached the kitchen.

“Good morning, Lois,” Clark greeted her cheerfully. “Sleep well?” He cut off a chunk of butter and started spreading it over the toast. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and the butter spread easily. She wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the toast or his vision.

“Horribly,” she replied. “Do you want to move in together?”


Part 203

The toast shattered into pieces and went flying into the air, raining down onto Clark’s head. He didn’t seem to notice as he stared at her. “Pardon?”

Lois stepped into the kitchen and ran a hand over her hair. She noticed a strand was sticking straight up. She patted it down, but it was being as stubborn as a Kryptonian. Perhaps this conversation should have waited until after she had showered. She put a hand to her mouth. And brushed her teeth. Too late now.

“You know, sharing an apartment. You. Me. Living together,” she said. “We hang out all the time anyway. We’d save money on rent. You wouldn’t have to rush over in the middle of the night whenever I scream for help. I wouldn’t have to leave my windows unlocked. Win-win.”

Clark brushed the crumbs out of his hair. “We solved the problem with your windows last night. I have keys,” he said, sliding another piece of bread into the toaster.

He was going to make her spell it out, wasn’t he?

“This isn’t about the windows,” she said.

“No,” he replied. “This is about your fear of being alone. You’re worried that Luthor is after you, and you could very well be right, especially after everything that has…”

“This isn’t about me being afraid,” she growled.

He raised a brow. “I think it is.”

“Well, you’d be wrong.”

Clark shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“So…?” she drew out the word.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you want to move in together?”

“What? Here?” he asked. Another piece of toast broke. He sighed and placed another slice of bread into the toaster.

Here would give him the option to think that she meant as roommates. Her in her room. Him in Lucy’s old room. “No, Chuck. Your place.” It only had the one bedroom. “We wouldn’t have the window problem at all over there.”

Lois set her fingers down on his arm and could feel him shake. She took the butter knife out of his hand and set it down on the counter. Lifting his buttery fingers to her lips, she stuck one into her mouth to lick it clean. A shudder passed through him. It was the good type of shudder, more of a tremble, as if he were losing control, which meant he was only acting dense.

He swallowed. “No, we wouldn’t,” he whispered. “I have a patio, accessible by a door.”

Yep. This naïve innocent act was just that, an act. She had suspected as much.

Lois moved closer to him. “And I wouldn’t have to call you to say ‘goodnight’.” She placed a different finger into her mouth.

“That sounds nice,” he said, his voice quivering. The toaster popped again and he moved to busy his hands out of her reach. “It’s a little soon to be talking about moving in together, though, don’t you think? We’ve only just come officially out, dating that is.” He glanced over at her. “I just got the place back to myself.”

She frowned and took a step backwards. “Oh. So, you don’t think this is a good idea?”

“I think that you’re trying to find a plausible reason to move out of your apartment and you’ve latched onto me as a good excuse,” he replied. He smiled at her and then kissed her cheek. “It isn’t a bad thing.”

She crossed her arms. “Oh, really? Because you’re making me sound needy and desperately chasing after you.”

“Even after I confessed traveling back in time to have a second chance with you? Nope, sorry, Lois. I have already claimed the needy, desperate chaser role in this relationship, and I refuse to hand it over,” he said, giving her a teasing smile as his words massaged her ego. “I’m worried that you’re moving too fast for you. I don’t want you to rush our relationship… before you’re ready… and later on, have you feel as if you’re stuck or pressured or…”

Her gaze narrowed. “I said share an apartment, not a bed.”

His responding gaze let her know that he didn’t believe her.

Okay, she had meant that, but after what he said, she would never admit to it. Even if on the off-chance he could get her to admit to meaning it, he just lost out that ‘sharing a bed’ meant ‘sharing their bodies’ instead of ‘sharing a sleeping spot’ with that look. Unless, of course, he kissed her while lying in that sleeping spot… or came to bed naked.

Oh, hell. How did I become so easy? Lois thought, frowning.

Clark put down the toast and set his hands on her shoulders. “I love you, Lois. I would never rush you into anything for which you weren’t ready.”

Now, who’s avoiding the big picture? Lois wondered. She was plenty ready to move to the next level of their relationship, especially if it meant leaving this apartment. He was the one being dense. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet. Who was she kidding? Clark had issues a mile long. Crap, I’m still going to have to be patient, aren’t I? I’m going have to ease him into this.

She smiled softly. “I know, Clark,” she murmured, and rested her head against his. “I just like having you around.”

He pulled her fully into his embrace. “And I like being around,” he said, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I know you like to jump into things with both feet, but with this… with us… I’d like you to test the water level every step along the way, okay?”

Every step? She didn’t want to be fifty before she got him naked. “Sometimes ripping off the bandage quickly is the best way,” she countered.

He cleared his throat. “Lois, I don’t think I could stand it if we… moved too quickly… in together and then you changed your mind after you realized how little privacy you’d have, with me hovering around.”

She leaned back so she could look him in the eye. “Do you regularly hover around your apartment?” she asked.

Clark blushed and grabbed the toast out of the toaster. “Not that type of hovering,” he muttered.

“Oh.” She watched him butter toast and wondered if he recalled that she always played to win. “We’ve slept together before, you know,” she said as he snapped another piece of toast into smithereens. “And as I recollect, it was quite nice… sleeping together, that is.”

Clark set his hands flat on the counter, staring at the mess the latest toast explosion caused. Finally, he sneaked a peek at her out of the corner of his eye. He must have caught her grinning, because he sighed and asked, “Do you want to go out for breakfast?”

***

Lois slid her fork through the last bite of Uncle Mike’s fudge raspberry torte. Every bite had been sheer pleasure, heaven on a fork. It had been just what she needed to take the edge off being patient with her dear, sweet, ever-annoying Chuck.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Perry had announced that Clark had garnered a Kerth Award nomination for Investigating Excellence, while none of her stories over the last year had.

Not a single one.

Not her investigation into proving LexCorp Nuclear plant was boiling the city’s aquifer. Not her solving the dilemma of Harrison’s Ides of Metropolis computer virus that had shut down the country. Not her work on tying Luthor to the Nightfall hoax, or that there was a secret government agency trying to kill Superman and willing to kill innocent Kansans in the process. Nope, none of those stories had been nominated.

Had the Kerth Committee nominated Clark for any of those stories, she would have been nominated as well, since those were essentially her stories on which he worked. Then his nomination wouldn’t rankle so much. No, Clark Kent had been nominated for some boring story having to do with conditions at retirement homes, or some other rot. A story that he had done before they had become partners. A story that she had no involvement with whatsoever. A story from so long ago that she could barely recall it, in fact. Perry had said it had something to do with retirement homes, which is how she knew vaguely about what the story was.

What was wrong with the Kerth Committee this year? Had someone drugged them with stupid juice?

Just before Perry’s announcement, her illustrious partner had rushed off on some emergency and told her just to not expect him for lunch because he had to meet a source afterwards. Was Superman so busy that he was scheduling his rescues in advance?

Lois guessed Clark could’ve meant a real source. They were going through a bit of a news dry spell over the last few days. They had exhausted all the Lex Luthor angles on their list since her return from the Space Station. Until either Henderson or Luthor’s new defense team let something slip, they were back to walking a beat again, so to speak. She hoped Clark’s so-called source gave them something else to cover other than another boring mayoral press conference.

Anyway, it was easier to indulge in chocolate sin at Café Americana without Clark eyeing her sadly from across the table. While he thankfully no longer ran to the facilities every time he tasted chocolate, he still didn’t eat much of it… well, not in such depraved quantities or richness as Lois liked. She also didn’t have to worry that she would jump her partner’s bones out here on the sidewalk. She placed the last bite into her mouth and sighed, picturing equally delightful but entirely different sins in her mind.

Clark is standing up at the Kerth Award podium announcing to everyone, as he accepts his award – because of course, he’d win – that he wants to share his award with his partner Lois Lane and that she should join him on the dais. Back at his apartment, after the ceremony, his tux would just happen to fall off when she tugs loose his bow tie. All his clothes save a pair of red briefs, that is. Then he hands over his crystal teardrop trophy and insists that she take it, saying he could never have earned it without her love, assistance, and journalistic mentoring. Awards mean nothing to him if he can’t have her, all of her, to share it with. He pleads with her, professing that he will never be able to be happy until he makes love to her so thoroughly that she passes out from exhaustion and pleasure every night for the rest of her life. When she reluctantly agrees, as she would never show eagerness in her fantasy, Clark flies her off – still only wearing the red briefs. She, of course, is dressed in her evening gown and looking stunning – to a deserted beachside cabin in Tahiti, where they spend the next week fulfilling her every desire.

Lois sighed, wiping her mouth clean of the chocolate evidence.

It could happen.

A banging noise caught her ear. Glancing around, she noticed a business down the street having its broken storefront window covered with a piece of plywood.

Her uncle came out of the café with a cup of coffee and sat down at her table. Business was that slow.

Lois nodded to the repair work. “What’s going on?”

“Vandals,” Uncle Mike answered. “Threw rocks through his windows last night. Then, they came in, broke all his vases, and cranked up the heat on the fridges. There weren’t any flowers left alive by the time Gerald showed up this morning. His security company hadn’t even alerted him about the alarm. Apparently, due to so many so-called false alarms in this neighborhood during the last three months, the police no longer respond to alarms anymore, unless a phone call from the business owner or manager has verified that police are needed. Even then, it takes them hours to arrive. Gerald’s rent, which like mine, doubled at the beginning of the New Year because of Southside’s boom. Let’s not even mention our insurance rates.” Mike shook his head.

“That’s horrible!” Lois gasped. “What did the police say?”

“I don’t know. Gerald’s still waiting for them to show up.”

Lois sat up straighter. “What?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Mike patted her shoulder. “They showed up, after Gerald called them again this morning. They didn’t even take any photographs before handing Gerald a pile of forms to fill out, and said that they’d look into it. They weren’t even here for five minutes before they left again.” He scoffed. “Police just don’t respond in this neighborhood anymore.”

“Sounds like a story,” Lois said, reaching down to grab her briefcase.

“That’s exactly what your partner said,” Mike said.

Her brow furrowed and her hand paused. “Clark was here?” She shook her head. “Wait. How do you know Clark?”

“We met last spring while you were undercover, sweetie. I was the go-between for him, you, and your father. He’s been coming by about once a week to check on me,” Mike replied.

This surprised her. “Daddy?” Her father never cared about anyone but himself, medical practice aside.

“Sam?” Mike chuckled. “Ah, no. Clark. He says it’s because I have the best quiche and raspberry vinaigrette in town.” Her uncle shrugged towards the empty tables. “But if that were true…”

“No, if Clark said that’s why he was here…” Lois defended her partner, but her voice faded. Had he been checking up on Uncle Mike? Why hadn’t he told Lois? Was he afraid of her reaction? How did she feel about it? Mad as hell at the police, but not at her partner.

“There he is now,” Mike said, standing up and waving down the street. “Hey, Clark!”

How did Clark know where she was? Lois hadn’t decided to come here until after Perry announced Clark’s Kerth Award nomination and knew that Uncle Mike would have sin on a plate. She wouldn’t put it beside Clark to have placed a tracer on her. Although, from what she had heard, that was more Batman’s style than Superman’s. She craned her neck around her uncle and saw that Clark wasn’t alone. He had just exited a cab with…

Lois stood up. “Mayson Drake, how good to see you,” she said through a forced smile and gritted teeth.

Clark froze. “Lois! Hi!” His cheeks turned slightly rosy in color.

Busted.

Mayson looked equally as unhappy to see Lois as Lois was to see her. “Ms. Lane,” she said coolly.

Lois ignored her. “Source, huh. Since when is Assistant D.A. Drake a source, Clark?” she asked, crossing her arms and glaring at her partner.

Mayson glanced over at Clark as well as if curious to hear his answer.

“Mayson and I met this summer. She was helping the team working to put Luthor away,” Clark replied. “She’s been very helpful.”

“Oh, really?” Lois snapped. She turned her glare towards Mayson.

“The D.A. thought it best since I was personally acquainted with you to recuse myself from the case. I’m no longer working on it,” Mayson explained.

Clark held up his hands. “I didn’t tell you, Lois, because I was meeting with the woman who prosecuted you last spring and I didn’t…”

“This has nothing to do with that!” Lois growled. Maybe his denseness wasn’t an act. Couldn’t he see how bad this looked? Especially how much Mayson looked at him?

“It doesn’t?” he sounded surprised.

“Well, I am upset, but not because of that,” Lois clarified.

“What does it matter?” Mayson said to her. “You and Clark are colleagues. You and I are acquaintances, and Clark and I are friends. It’s really no big deal. I appreciate that after my assistance with your prenup that you stopped stalking me, but…”

Oh, crud, Lois thought, bracing herself for Clark’s reaction.

Clark stared at Mayson, his jaw hanging open, before turning to Lois. “You… you signed a prenuptial agreement with him?”

“He wanted me to sign some monster pre-nup,” Lois explained calmly. “I asked Ms. Drake here for a referral of a lawyer who could make sure that signing it didn’t obligate me to the man in any way, shape, or form. I knew she was honest, because Luthor couldn’t buy her off. She reviewed it herself and drafted a rebuttal. It didn’t mean anything, Clark. I wasn’t planning on marrying him.”

“I recused myself from the team because I worked on this pre-nup,” Mayson said.

“Are you sure that they didn’t want you off, because you didn’t believe me when I told you he was a criminal mastermind?” Lois said.

“I didn’t think it was relevant to bring that up,” Mayson replied.

Clark pointed at Lois and then at Mayson, before returning to Lois. “I thought you hated her because she prosecuted you on that Eugene Laderman thing. Now, you’re saying that you were working together on your Luthor investigation?”

“She was guilty of harboring an escaped convict,” Mayson stated, as if grey was a color outside of the spectrum.

“I saved this country because I helped Eugene and the thanks I got was a felony conviction!” Lois returned.

“Maybe I wasn’t wrong to keep you out of it,” Clark murmured, wiping a hand down his face, before stepping between them. “Ladies.”

Mayson set a hand on Clark’s arm. “Why don’t we eat elsewhere?” she asked, turning back towards where they had left the cab. It was long gone. “Nice to see you out of the courthouse, Ms. Lane.”

Lois set her hands on her hips and waited. That had to have gotten through even Clark’s skull.

Clark took Mayson’s hand off his arm, patted it, and turned her towards Lois’s uncle. “But the reason… Mayson, this is Mike Lane. Mike, this is Mayson Drake. Mayson works for the District Attorney’s office.”

“So, I gathered,” Mike said, holding out his hand. “Welcome to Café Americana.”

“Thank you,” Mayson said softly to Mike, shaking his hand. She looked between Lois and Mike. “Wait. Lane? As in Lois Lane?”

“Mike’s my uncle,” Lois clarified. “This is his restaurant.”

“Clark, why are we here?” Mayson asked under her breath, yet they all heard her.

“It’s not a date, if that’s what you were thinking,” Lois said, stating the obvious to all but clearly Mayson.

“What?”

“Of course not, Lois,” Clark said, his eyes widening at her words. “I brought Mayson here to talk to Mike and see what she and the D.A.’s office could do about the lack of police presence here on the Southside.”

“What?” Mayson said again.

“The business owners here on the Southside aren’t getting the police protection that they should…” Clark explained.

“What?” This time Mayson’s question was a bit sharper. “What do you mean ‘this isn’t a date’?”

“Seems pretty self-explanatory to me, Ms. Drake,” Lois said with a soft victorious smile.

“I asked you to lunch to see what’s happening in this neighborhood. If the district attorney’s office worked to investigate, along with the Daily Planet…” Clark went on.

Lois set a hand on Clark’s arm. “Clark,” she said firmly, interrupting him. “Mayson thought you two were on a date.”

Clark’s cheeks went redder than rosy this time. “Oh, gosh, Mayson, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I never…” He cleared his throat. “I thought everyone knew.” He glanced at his partner. “I’m in love with Lois.”

Lois grinned. There. Was that so difficult? She exhaled as if a large weight had risen off her chest. She had no idea why she had been so worried about Mayson and Clark meeting. Yet, ever since she had met the woman last spring, Lois had been worried sick with a nagging feeling that Clark would dump her for the blonde attorney. It was only now, seeing them together, did Lois realize how preposterous that possibility ever was. Clark only had eyes for Lois.

“Lois?” Mayson sputtered. “Lane?”

“Yes. We’ve been dating since…” He glanced over at Lois and returned her smile. “Last year.”

“Before Nightfall,” Lois clarified.

“Our first official date was for your birthday last September,” Clark rebutted and then gasped. “Why, Lois, it’s almost been a year.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” Lois grumbled.

“Lois, I thought you stopped celebrating your birthday, sweetie,” Uncle Mike joined in. “Let me bake you a birthday cake. What kind would you like?”

“Clark, now look what you’ve done,” Lois said to her partner, before turning back to her uncle and holding up her hand to stop him. “Uncle Mike, Death by Chocolate is my favorite cake, but really, I don’t celebrate it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lois. We’ll do the shindig here at Café Americana.”

“No, Uncle Mike,” Lois insisted. “No party.”

“You’re dating Lois Lane?” Mayson repeated, apparently having still not moved on from that point.

Clark wrapped an arm around Lois’s waist. “Yes.” They smiled at each other.

“Where are my manners?” Mike said, throwing up his hands. He stepped away from the table and picked up his coffee cup. “Please, sit. I’ll bring you something to eat. Sit. Sit!” He rushed into the restaurant.

“But… but… she’s a convicted felon!” Mayson said. “She was engaged to marry Lex Luthor!”

Clark shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

“Hey!” Lois elbowed him before pointing at Mayson. “I was pardoned.”

“Oh, come on. You admitted it yourself that you thought that Luthor bought off the governor. I can’t believe this,” Mayson said. “She doesn’t love you, Clark. She’s obsessed with that Superman guy.”

Clark glanced at Lois and raised a seductive eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Everyone is obsessed with Superman,” Lois retorted. “He’s hot... hot news, I mean. Newsworthy. Hot.”

Clark’s hand at her waist gave her a squeeze.

“Well, I’m not!” Mayson said, crossing her arms.

Both Lois and Clark turned their attention back to her. “Huh?”

Lois gave Clark a look that read, 'Hey! She said it, not me.'

“You’re very pretty, Mayson, and if I...” Clark started before choosing very wisely not to continue that train of thought. “Maybe Lois knows a nice man she can introduce you to.”

“Nope. Sorry, Chuck.” Lois shrugged. “You’re the nicest man in Metropolis and even you’re a horrible liar.”

“That’s not true!” he snapped.

“Fine. You’re a nice man who lies wonderfully,” Lois corrected.

“That’s… Lois.”

Lois dared him to correct her.

Mayson pulled her mobile phone out of her purse and started dialing. “I can’t believe you, either of you. I’m not interested in Ms. Lane’s rejects, and I’m certainly not interested in Superman. Ugh, just thinking about the man just gives me a headache.”

“You don’t like Superman?” Clark echoed, stunned. “Wh… wh… Why?”

“Can you send a cab to…?” Mayson looked around and then rattled off the address for Café Americana before shutting her phone. “He’s a vigilante. He struts around town, thinking because he’s got all these powers that laws don’t apply to him.”

“He…” Clark sputtered. “He struts?”

Lois hid her giggle behind a hand.

Clark glared at her. “He doesn’t!”

“No, Clark, he doesn’t,” Lois agreed through giggles.

“Oh, geez. You’re not a fan too, are you?” Mayson said in disgust. “Of course you are.”

“Clark is Superman’s best friend,” Lois said with a grin.

“I am not!” Clark retorted.

Lois placed a finger to her lips. “That’s right. He’s not.” Then she winked.

“Lois!”

“Well, if you’re so buddy-buddy with Superman, why don’t you have him clean up the Southside and just leave me out of it?” Mayson said as a taxi pulled up down the street. “Bye, Clark. Thanks for nothing.”

As soon as she was gone, Lois burst into laughter.

“That wasn’t funny,” Clark said, but she could hear the laughter in his tone.

“Yes. Yes, it was,” she corrected.

“What’s so funny about it?” he asked.

Lois took his hands in hers and said, “I love that you love me. Thank you.”

“Did I miss something?” His eyes searched hers.

Lois guffawed and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Chuck. Never change. You’re priceless just the way you are.”

“I’m not Superman’s best friend,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“I know you’re not, Chuck,” she replied, pulling him closer. “Just do me a favor and stop asking women out without me.”

He kissed her lips. “How was I supposed to know she’d get the wrong idea?”

Lois grinned. “That’s what I love about you. You just don’t know, do you? It’s simple, Clark. Wishful thinking.”

“Oh.” Clark thought about that. “What?” He shook his head. “Lois, I never…”

She took hold of his hand. “I know.”

He eyed her warily. “You’re not mad?”

“About that?” she scoffed. “No.” She poked his chest. “I’m mad that you purposely didn’t tell me.”

“Never again,” he promised, and this time she believed him.

***End of Part 203***

Part 204

Comments