Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Wrong Clark (211/???)

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

Author's Note: Just a reminder * indicates continuation of the same scene as before, but that the POV has changed to another character. *** indicates a scene break. Italics can indicate inner thoughts, foreign language, or emphasis in dialogue.

Where we left Wrong Clark in Part 210…

Suddenly, Clark didn’t feel able to talk about that day any longer. They were getting too close to the uncomfortable truth. “You hungry? I feel like eating some pizza. Do you feel like some pizza?” He stood up. “I could get us some pizza. I know a great pizza joint.”

Lois touched his arm, and he realized he must have been rambling. She must’ve known that he didn’t want to go on with his story.

However, he couldn’t stop himself. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

“You know what kind of pizza I like, Clark,” she finally said, letting go of his arm. “Or should I call you Signore Carlo?”

Just the thought of their secret pizza dates calmed Clark and brought an unbidden smile to his lips. “Of course. Would you like some cannoli?” he asked.

She raised her brow.

“With crema or cioccolato?” he asked.

Lois merely shook her head in disbelief that he had to ask.

“Some of each then,” Clark said with a nod. Bending down, he placed a soft kiss on her lips before racing off through his patio door at super speed and leaping into the sky.

The night air would help cool his fears.

*

Part 211

Lois leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared at her hands.

Clark had been unconscious in Luthor’s office. Luthor could’ve killed him. He could’ve done worse.

Maybe he had.

Clark had been doing fine with her questions about the incident, but then all of a sudden he clammed up and needed to bolt. Why hadn’t Clark been able to bust out of Luthor’s cage? He said it was because he didn’t have his strength back, but that wasn’t the full story.

Why had Luthor taken Superman to the basement wine cellar if he had Kryptonite manacles waiting in his secret bedroom chamber? Had Luthor taken Superman to that other room first and the only reason Clark didn’t remember it was because he had repressed whatever Luthor did from his memory? It would explain the marks on his wrists that he mentioned. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned anything about similar marks on his ankles and neck.

Clark had said that Cat had rescued him and saved Superman’s life. Was the cage merely a holding chamber? Had Lex been planning to move Superman back up to his bedroom for a live wedding-night show?

Lois’s stomach lurched at the memory of that viewing room across from that horrible bed.

It was her fault. Lex did this to Clark because of her. Because Lex claimed to love her. Or was it because Luthor knew that Lois was in love with Superman? He clearly knew that Superman had feelings for Lois. Had Luthor told Superman what he had planned?

If he had, she doubted that Clark would ever admit it, even if she pressed. Clark was one of those old-fashionable honorable sorts of men. The type one saw in old time movies, where the man lied to the woman to protect her, so she wouldn’t be burdened with the truth. Those were tough nuts to crack, and Lois wasn’t even sure she wanted to know the whole truth.

Yeah, she did.

No wonder Clark was repulsed every time she wanted to do more than kiss. It was amazing that he even wanted to be in the same room as her.

Clark loved her; Lois knew that. She was also sure that he didn’t blame her one bit for whatever Luthor did to him.

That made one of them.

***

Clark landed on his patio, tired and dirty. He wanted nothing more than a hot shower and to crawl into bed. He paused upon opening his door, noticing that he had left his apartment lights on. Then, he saw Lois curled up under a blanket on his couch and he winced.

The pizza.

Clark had forgotten the reason he was in Europe in the first place.

He sighed. It wasn’t as if she really wanted pizza at two in the morning anyway.

Zipping into his bathroom, Clark showered and changed. He then went into the living room to clean up the tea things, only to see that Lois had already done so. With a crooked smile, he gazed at her, only to notice that she was shivering under that thin blanket.

Clark hadn’t planned for her to sleep on his sofa and wished that she had gone to sleep in his bed, leaving him the couch. However, he knew the truth. Lois hadn’t purposely fallen asleep there. She had done so, while waiting for him to return with the pizza. He turned off the lights and scooped Lois up, cradling her against his chest as he carried her into his bedroom. Pulling back the covers, he zapped the sheets with a low beam of heat vision to warm them and then set Lois down, tucking her in.

“Clark?” she murmured.

He brushed the hair off her face and kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep, Lois. It’s late.”

“Where were you?” she asked, opening her eyes, her voice still groggy from sleep.

“Train collision outside of London. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Any fatalities?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, running his hand over her hair. “Go back to sleep.”

Lois caught his hand. “How many?”

He paused, before whispering, “Nineteen.”

She scooted back, away from him. “Come to bed.”

Clark jerked his thumb towards the living room. “I’ll just…”

“Chuck!” she interrupted, flipping back the covers. “I’m freezing here. Into bed!”

He slipped into the bed next to her, covering them both up.

They both lay there for a minute in the darkness, staring at one another. He wondered if it felt as awkward for her as it did for him. He hoped not. In fact, he hoped she didn’t notice in the darkness how nervous he was. His heart was racing. He didn’t know what to say or do. Worse, he feared what she might say or do and what he’d have to say and do in response.

Lois moved her hand to his cheek, causing him to draw in a breath, momentarily immobile. She ran her thumb across his cheek. “How many people did you save?”

He exhaled and relaxed. “Well, I… the police and the fire fighters…”

“How many, Clark?”

“Forty-nine went to hospital. Another one-hundred eighty-seven walked away with minor injuries,” he replied. “One of the tankers on the cargo train was full of fuel and almost exploded.”

“Killing those two-hundred and thirty-six people, and probably many of the police and fire fighters, too, I bet,” Lois said, leaning towards him to press a gentle kiss upon his lips. “Good night.”

“Good night, minha,” he whispered as she scooted back into her previous position roughly six inches away from him.

“No, Clark,” she said. “Good thing you went for pizza, then. You saved two hundred and fifty people from dying horribly or from being seriously burned. You had a good night.”

He stared at her, wishing he could think of something more profound to say other than ‘I love you.’

“I forgot the pizza,” he said instead.

She smiled. “I’ll live.”

“And the cannoli.”

Her smile faded. She took hold of his hand under the covers. “I’m not kicking you out of this bed, no matter how hard you try. You’re warm and I’m not stupid. So, just shut up and go to sleep.” She closed her eyes, and tucked their joined hands under her cheek.

“I love you.”

She didn’t even open her eyes. “Don’t try to earn brownie points, Chuck. You did forget my cannoli.”

He grinned, loving her more.

***

Clark awoke to the scent of lavender and Lois. He smiled and cuddled closer to his pillow.

It made a soft sound of contentment.

His eyes flashed open. All he saw was brown hair. He moved his head slightly back and saw that he had buried his nose into the nape of Lois’s neck. Her back was pressed against his front. Or was his front pressed against her back? Closing his eyes, he allowed himself twenty seconds to savor this moment and imprint it on his brain cells.

Lois’s head lay on his left arm. His right arm draped over her waist and…

His eyes burst open again as he tried not to move. His heart raced.

Where was his hand? He couldn’t see it and he was most certainly touching bare skin that didn’t belong to him. He blinked his eyes several times quickly to wake himself up more fully.

Nope, it wasn’t at her waist. The angle of his arm was wrong for that.

He swallowed. Oh, God. It was tucked between her thighs. Delicately, so that he wouldn’t wake Lois, he extracted his hand.

Lois turned over and snuggled against his chest, making that coo of contentment once more.

Clark held still for a minute longer before relaxing with a sigh. He hadn’t awoken her. His newly freed hand rested against the small of Lois’s back, now. She fit so perfectly in his arms. His eyes fluttered shut.

The room was decidedly brighter when movement against his chest woke him again.

Lois was gently pulling up the hem of his shirt. She was so totally absorbed in what she was doing and seeing that she had forgotten what a light sleeper he was.

“My skin isn’t blue,” he said, startling her so that she jumped backwards, became entangled in the sheets, and almost fell off the far side of the bed. He caught her arm, stopping her descent. “Sorry.”

“You’re sorry? What for? I’m the one invading your… um…” Lois waved a hand at his torso. “— space.”

“For startling you,” he replied.

She laughed one of those nervous laughs she made when she was caught doing something she know she oughtn’t have been doing. Sitting up, she nudged his arm. “I know you aren’t blue.”

He raised his eyebrow. Why else would she want to look at his chest? It was just a male chest, after all. It wasn’t interesting in the way a female chest was. If it were, men wouldn’t be allowed to walk around without shirts on.

Clark wasn’t that naïve. He knew that women were interested in the male form. He had a decent chest, but he also knew guys with bigger muscles and tighter abs. He considered how he looked to be about average. Normal had always been his goal. He couldn’t help it if he had good genes.

Lois blushed, sucked her lips into her mouth.

Okay, maybe slightly above average, but nothing any woman would write home about. He saw her gaze dart to the hem of his t-shirt again as if drawn there by a force stronger than her own.

She was so adorable in the morning. Clark wanted to encircle her waist and press a kiss to her mouth. However, he resisted temptation. They were lying on a bed, after all, and that… that… well, it just wasn’t a good idea.

“Clark,” she said, her cheeks cherry red now, as she glanced away demurely. “Would you mind showing me where you were shot?”

Oh. “Which time?” he teased.

Her eyes opened in alarm. “Someone other than Trask shot you?”

“No, sorry,” he said, guilt flooding him as he sat up. “It was just a joke. I often get shot at by random criminals.” He whipped off his shirt. “They really don’t seem to believe the rumors of Superman’s invulnerability unless they see it with their own…” He glanced over at her. “— eyes.”

Lois’s jaw hung open. If he had thought that she would be distracted by his bare skin, he would’ve sorely been mistaken because she wasn’t looking at his chest. She was staring into his eyes. “Every day?”

“Not every day,” he replied. “Often.” He pointed to the spot where Trask’s bullet had grazed him. “Trask didn’t really shoot me,” he reassured her. “Not like you were shot. It burned though.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she mumbled under her breath. Her gaze had shifted to his chest. Technically, it was more the side of his chest, under his arm. Her fingers danced close to his skin without actually making contact.

After a minute of gritting his teeth in anticipation, he hissed, “You can touch me, Lois.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing back to his eyes.

He nodded.

Her hands felt slightly cool as she massaged the area with her fingers. He wondered why he had been so against her touching his chest the night before.

This felt wonderful.

Had he scared Lois into being hesitant to touch him? That hadn’t been his goal.

Her hand skimmed over the surface of his skin, light and feathery at first. Then, she actually pressed her fingers deeply against his flesh, feeling its give and take. He impulsively grabbed her hand when it ventured too close to his armpit. Lois didn’t need to know how ticklish he was.

“There’s no scar,” she murmured as he let go. “Not a mark on you.”

“No,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Only the memory.”

“Do you get phantom pains?”

“I haven’t lost a limb, Lois,” he said, watching as her hands returned to his chest. First, to the spot where Trask had shot him, and then venturing more to the center of his chest where he usually wore his crest.

“I know. I mean… I don’t know…” she continued. “Was it the first time you felt pain?”

“I wish,” he whispered.

“Of course it wasn’t. It was a stupid question.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he corrected her, setting his hands on hers. He cleared his throat. “The first time in a long while, though.” He wished it had been the last time as well. “It was the first time a mosquito bit me. Let me tell you, I could live a full life without that experience again.” He smiled.

Lois chuckled. “You and me both.”

He cupped her jaw in his hand. “Minha, if there was a way I could make you invulnerable to mosquitoes and have bullets bounce off your chest you know I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” she replied, covering his hand with hers. She pulled his hand down to where his crest lay on her chest. “Then I could wear this for real.”

That was only the half of it.

“I wouldn’t want that for you,” he admitted, his fingers caressing the gold of her pajama’s ‘S’.

“No?”

“The death. The clean-up of bodies after destruction. The seeing of all those you couldn’t save. People blaming you for not coming sooner, for people dying, for not doing enough, because in their grief, they do. Never having a private life. No.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t inflict that on anyone, especially you.”

*

The tension in Lois’s shoulders relaxed. For a second there, she had thought Clark meant that she couldn’t hack it as a hero or that he didn’t want her wearing his crest. She moved his finger resting on her chest so that it traced the entire ‘S’.

“So, you’re okay with this?” she asked.

His eyes weren’t focused on hers, but on his hand. Sure, she could daydream that he was distracted by what lay underneath it, but this was Clark. She knew he wasn’t peeking. He hadn’t taken advantage of being in bed with her last night. Then again, it had been his idea to wait for marriage. Despite that change in his ideology, a part of her hoped that he recognized that he wasn’t just feeling the ‘S’. He followed his logo over and down and around until the end, where he brought it back up the other side.

Lois did her best not to react. She hoped her fluttering heart and flushed skin weren’t giving her away. She wasn’t forcing his hand, either. Hers had dropped away after setting his in motion.

“Huh?” he finally murmured, looking up to her face. He blinked his eyes absentmindedly, and she smiled. “I mean, ‘yes’ it’s fine. I’m used to it, now.”

He’s used to what? she wondered. Feeling my chest? No, wait. What had she asked him? Oh, right. About her wearing his crest.

Without saying a word, Lois set her hand on his bare chest. His splendid chest. His chest that no other man’s chest compared with. It thrilled her to no end to finally be able to openly touch it. She traced out the ‘S’ pattern between his pec muscles. She knew that Clark was more than that symbol. She wanted to do so much more than trace it. She wanted to feel all of Clark’s exposed skin, feel the curves of his muscles under the palm of her hand, and run her fingers along his ribs. Would his stomach dance with nervous butterflies if she touched it?

His skin felt warm in the cool morning air. It was also baby soft and made her fingers tingly with numbness. She wanted to lean over and kiss his glorious skin, starting with his collarbone. However, she knew he would freak out if she made any hint that this was more than a conversation about his family’s crest… or him being shot. What had they been discussing again?

Anyway, this wasn’t about sex. Not really. It was about Lois helping Clark become comfortable with them touching each other. Him touching her in a new way, or in a newly explored old way. Him allowing her to touch him in a manner that felt non-threatening. The sun was shining. The room was bright. She wasn’t stalking him like a wild cat on the savanna. There wasn’t anything here to scare him.

Her hand paused at his clavicle. Hesitantly, she left the center of his chest and followed that bone to the shoulder of his free arm. She leaned slightly forward to run her hand down his arm. This caused his fingers to push downwards towards her chest, forcing him to feel what he should have known was there all along.

Lois’s lips touched Clark’s at the same time her hand reached his free hand. His other hand became pinned between their torsos.

His fingers compressed, cupping her slightly, as he deepened the kiss. For a moment, she wondered if he had relaxed his overabundance of control and allowed himself to enjoy that to which she was giving him access. However, the moment ended too soon and his hand fell away.

“We should really get up. We need to shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast. We don’t want to be late for Griffin’s parole hearing,” Clark said, scooting closer to the edge of the bed and rising to his feet.

Lois sat back upon her heels and watched as he hurried into his bathroom.

Should she tell him that he had made it to second base?

Maybe later.

Clark reappeared a moment later and leaned against the doorframe, staring at her.

Then again, perhaps it would be better to discuss it.

“Lois, do you think I could…” he started, his cheeks pink with embarrassment.

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “We should get ready.”

“Go on, Clark. You can ask me anything,” she said, drawing her knees up to her chest and gazing at him in the most innocently coquettish a manner she could muster.

“It really isn’t important,” he sputtered.

She didn’t believe him.

He pointed behind him into the bathroom. “Do you mind if I take the first shower? I’ll be super quick,” he said, and then grinned. “No pun intended.”

She waved him on as her flirtatious rebuttal was stuck in her throat. It was more difficult than she thought, this casual seduction of her boyfriend.

He smiled and nodded, disappearing back inside his bathroom.

Lois wanted him. She wanted him to feel comfortable with her body and with her touching his. She loved sleeping with him. Merely, lying in his arms. She felt safe and relaxed in a way she never felt alone or elsewhere. A large part of her wanted them to move their relationship faster. Go all the way, now. It wasn’t as if it would be their first time.

Technically.

Yet, another part of her was scared of taking that step. Not of Clark. Not of his powers; now, that she knew he had powers. But of actually opening herself up again. In love, there were no guarantees that the happiness she felt today would still be there tomorrow.

And that was what stopped her from stripping off her clothes and joining him in the shower.

She didn’t want to lose Clark.

She didn’t want to ever go on without him.

She never wanted to be alone again.

If they became physically intimate and she gave herself to him entirely, again, there would be no going back. She already knew that he would never leave her. She didn’t doubt his love and his commitment to her. Yet… should he die, then the part of her that she gave to Clark would die with him, thus killing her. She was sure of it.

Lois had no idea why she was worried about Clark dying. He was invulnerable. The chances of that happening were pretty darn low. However, as time passed, this crazy phobia was growing inside her. Maybe because she knew that even if the chance was slight, it was still possible. She had actually lived through such a nightmare last night, only to wake in Clark’s arms as he was fading into nothingness in her dreams.

She wanted to live every day with Clark to the fullest, because she was worried that any day could be their last.

The thing that scared her the most, though, was that it might already have been too late. She had already given herself fully to Clark and she worried that he hadn’t yet done the same. Until he did, they couldn’t move forward.

***

“You ever been to one of these before?” Lois whispered to Clark as they sat in the back of the small room. There were a couple of other people waiting, none of whom Clark recognized. A mustached old man with silver white hair walked in and Clark could tell he had recognized Lois by the way he forced a polite nod in her direction. He wasn’t happy to see her.

“No,” Clark whispered back. “Who’s that?”

“Griffin’s father,” she replied. “He knows me being here is bad news for his son.” Sitting in her lap was a pile of angry, threatening letters from Kyle Griffin. She moved her hand off the file and set it on Clark’s hand. “Thanks.”

“I wouldn’t have let you come alone,” he said.

“Let me?” Lois asked, raising a brow.

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah. You meant that you wouldn’t have let me come alone,” she said.

Clark pinched his lips together. He hated it when she got defensive of his protective streak. “I meant, if you didn’t want to,” he whispered back.

Lois squeezed his hand. “Thanks for keeping me company.”

“Any time.”

“And for finding out about this hearing,” she went on.

“I need my sleep,” Clark whispered. “Another psycho after you isn’t going to help me get any.”

She elbowed him in the ribs and then murmured, “You know that all you have to do is ask.”

He grinned. He loved it when she begged, even facetiously. Begging wouldn’t help her get any any faster either, but it still felt good to be wanted.

Lois elbowed him in the ribs again. Harder.

She must have seen his grin.

“Don’t get cocky, Chuck.”

Yep. She had seen his grin.

“You were supposed to cave,” she said, stating the obvious.

“I’m made of sterner stuff than that,” he replied.

“Tell me about it,” she grumbled.

Clark covered his mouth to hide his chuckle. He knew that Lois was merely teasing him. If she had really wanted him to cave, she would have tried harder – or at all – when they were snuggling in bed.

Another man walked into the room, greeted Griffin’s father with a handshake. The elder Griffin mentioned Lois’s name, causing the new man to glance back at them before sitting down at the nearest seat to the one Griffin would occupy. He must have been Griffin’s lawyer.

“You’re not popular,” Clark said.

“Then I must be doing my job right,” Lois replied. “I didn’t join this profession to win a popularity contest.”

He smiled. “I like you.”

“Well, that just goes to show that you aren’t right in the head,” she teased, squeezing his hand. “Anyway, everyone knows you’re a big softy.”

“Yeah. That’s me. Mr. Marshmallow,” he said wryly.

“Everyone likes you, and you like everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Clark returned.

Her brow furrowed as she turned to look him in the eye. “Who doesn’t like you?”

“Luthor.” The feeling was mutual.

Lois rolled her eyes as if that answer wasn’t worth dignifying with a response.

“He liked you,” Clark went on.

“See, no accounting for taste,” she whispered back.

“Mayson doesn’t like me,” he added.

“That’s not true. She loves you,” Lois said. “It’s Superman she can’t stand.”

Clark shrugged, leaning back. “Yep. No accounting for taste.”

She grinned. “It only goes to show you that blondes are stupid.”

He gasped. “Lois Lane!”

“Okay, fine. Mayson really is a mousy, dishwater brunette and only bleaches her hair. Some of it must have disturbed her mind.”

“Lois,” Clark warned. “That kind of remark is beneath you.”

She stared at him. “Not a big fan of the blonde joke, then?”

“Not a big fan of stereotyping a group of people because they happen to share a common physical trait or origin,” he responded.

“Like Kryptonians?” Lois hissed.

Before Clark could respond by saying that he only knew the one, the parole board entered the room and sat down at the table. Less than a minute later, guards led Kyle Griffin to a solitary chair facing the table.

Kyle greeted his dad with a smile. The old man nodded towards Lois and Clark at the back of the room. Although, technically, the nod was only for Lois. Kyle turned his head, saw Lois, and started swearing under his breath, quite colorfully as well.

“What is she doing here?” Kyle snapped.

His lawyer tried to hush him.

“Pardon?” asked one of the men on the panel.

“Lois Lane,” Kyle retorted, once more describing her visually. “She’s the one who put me in here.”

The people on the panel exchanged glances and then turned as a group to look at Lois.

She waved. “Ignore me. I’m only here to cover the hearing for the Daily Planet. Oh, and to serve as a character witness.”

Kyle growled.

Lois held up her file. “Kyle’s a big fan. Writes me almost monthly to tell me how he can’t wait to see me when he’s released. He’s even written vivid descriptions of how we’d spend those last hours of my life,” she explained, placing a hand to her chest as if Griffin’s words wowed Lois with their beauty. “I’d be more than willing to share. However, I’ve got to warn you, he’s quite the prolific writer.”

“Objection!” screamed Griffin’s lawyer.

“I agree,” stated Judge Laurette McKnight, the only woman on the panel. “Take some credit for yourself, Mr. Griffin. Ms. Lane didn’t put you in prison. Your own actions did that.”

“Oooooh. I like her,” Lois whispered to Clark behind her hand. He smiled.

“I object!” Griffin’s lawyer stated again.

“To what, Mr. Gilroy?” Judge McKnight countered. “Your client was found guilty by a jury of his peers. That isn’t up for debate here today. What we’re here to decide is whether Metropolis and New Troy would best be served with him behind bars or as a productive and law-abiding member of society.”

“I object to your obvious bias towards my client,” Mr. Gilroy said.

“And I object to your client sending threatening letters to anyone, Mr. Gilroy. Now, will you kindly sit down so that our hearing can begin?”

An hour later, Clark bought Lois a celebratory coffee on the way to the Daily Planet. Kyle Griffin wouldn’t be back up before the parole board again for another twenty-four months.

***End of Part 211***

Part 212

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