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Honeymoon In Metropolis: Clark Kent/Lois Lane
***

“You’re never alone,” he said, and almost felt dizzy at how appealing that suddenly sounded.

Never alone. Never on his own, wondering if there was someone, anyone, out there who could really, truly love him. Never left floating in the clouds and hoping he didn’t lose all connection to the earth below.

Never alone. Having someone there who knew him. Someone he could talk to. Someone with whom he didn’t have to constantly bite his tongue, choose his words with care, lie to. Someone to whom he could tell everything and not be judged, just accepted.

Never alone. To have Lois there with him. Every day. Working at his side. Covering for him when he had to make his excuses. Smiling at him when he saved someone or when they finished a front page story. Looping her arm through his, or just waving at him across the distance between their desks. And every night. Telling him good night without prompting or baiting. Warm and happy and there (and maybe kissing him like she had earlier, on the bed, when that maid had come in).

He wanted it. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

But it was just a dream. He hoped, with everything he was, that it would one day come true. But for now, no matter how he wished otherwise, he knew she wasn’t ready--and maybe he wasn’t either.

Only a dream. But oh, it was such a sweet dream.

***

“You’re never alone,” she repeated, and almost choked at the realization of how much she wanted that.

Never alone. It should scare her. Should terrify her and put her back up and make her remind herself of all the reasons she had to be on her own. She was independent and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and she didn’t need someone always hanging around her--she’d learned how little she liked that when Lucy was staying with her.

Never alone. It should make her roll her eyes and agree that it would definitely be a drawback to living fulltime with someone. It should make her look at Clark--at the gleam in his eyes he couldn’t always disguise, whether sitting over Chinese or arguing over board games--and make a sarcastic retort and remind them both how impossible this entire situation was and how glad she was that this was fake.

Never alone. It shouldn’t make her think about playing games with Clark and laughing at him and eating dinner with him (and feeling his weight atop hers as he cradled her face in his hands). It shouldn’t make her wonder, even if just for an instant, what it would be like to have Clark always around. Singing out his good night until she replied, teasing her about her competitiveness, helping her expose naked truths.

She imagined it. Let herself contemplate it for a long moment while she played with the ring on her finger.

But it was just a daydream. It was just an idle fancy that came and went without sticking around long enough for it to bother her. Because she knew it would never happen--not for her and not with Clark Kent.

Just a daydream. But, odd, she’d never realized before how easy it was to daydream about Clark.

***