Today is the birthday of the owner of these boards, Annette, and in honour of the day here is a story written with her in mind. No, there's no cute, lovable, cuddly dog (ick! 
) in here, but hey, the title is close! 
~ Puppy-Dog Eyes ~ “Goodnight, Mrs Brazzini! You take care, now!”
“Night, Clark. Thanks for your help!”
Clark gave his neighbour a final wave and a smile before heading around the corner and to the steps leading up to his apartment. It had only taken him ten minutes to fix the leaky bathroom tap, but he’d been with her a further hour, eating her home-made tiramisu and hearing all the latest news about her family in Naples.
His neighbours were nice people. As he told friends in Smallville any time they started trying to sympathise with him about the anonymity and sterility of life in the big city, it was possible to find and build a community anywhere. All it took was a willingness to smile and say hello and offer to help. His neighbours had welcomed him from the day he’d moved in, and he’d responded to them just as he would have responded to Mrs Staples or Mr Johanssen or Betty-Sue Morgan in Smallville.
A city had streets and houses and people just like any small town did. Even when there were apartment blocks rather than family houses, people still lived there - sure, some of those people had busy jobs and barely saw the inside of their homes other than to sleep (and his partner sprung to mind there), but you could still pass the time of day with them, even if it was just a hurried ‘good morning’ and a smile every now and then.
Yes, he liked living in the city, and it had taken him very little of the eight months he’d been here so far to feel that Metropolis was his home.
Lost in pleasant thought, he almost didn’t notice the figure sitting expectantly on his doorstep. She wasn’t prepared not to be noticed, however; she was waving a hand pointedly up at him.
“Clark? Earth to Clark!”
“Lois!” He halted and stared down at her, before extending his hand to help her get to her feet. “What are you doing here? I thought you were out with... whatshisname.”
“Yeah. Whatsisname.” She stuck her tongue out, and his eyes widened.
“I take it things didn’t go so well.”
For the first time, he noticed that she wasn’t exactly dressed for a date. Under her winter jacket, she wore a MetU sweatshirt, and the outfit was completed with jeans and trainers. Her hair was partly tied back in a scrunchie, and her face was scrubbed clean of makeup.
She looked barely more than a teenager. And, looking at her, he felt like a horny, stammering seventeen-year-old all over again.
“No, they didn’t,” she grumbled. “Are you going to keep me out on your doorstep all night? In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s getting cold.”
Getting cold? It was still only February, and although it hadn’t snowed for a couple of weeks, there was a chill winter breeze in the air. Of course, he hadn’t noticed the temperature, but that was no excuse.
“I’m sorry! Come on in.” He unlocked the door as he spoke, then stood back to let her enter before him. “It should be warm in here.”
“It is.” She stood at the bottom of the steps, arms wrapped around herself. “How on earth aren’t you frozen, Clark? You don’t even have a coat on!”
“Uh... I’m warm-blooded,” he ventured, hoping that she’d buy the excuse. “How about some hot chocolate?”
“Ooh, I’d sell you my soul for some hot chocolate!” she exclaimed, turning to give him a longing look.
He’d happily settle for her body, Clark thought as he watched her. Then, with an inward wry smile, he ordered his hormones to settle down. “You don’t need to do that,” he assured her. “Maybe just make the byline Kent and Lane on our next front-page story, okay?”
He got a mock glare in response. “Don’t push it, Kent!” Then, as if she was relenting, she added, “It depends just how good this hot chocolate is.”
“Oh, the best!” He headed for the kitchen, and she followed him. “My mom’s recipe. Have you had her hot chocolate?”
Lois shook her head. “But now you’ve set my expectations high, Clark. You sure you can match up?”
Clark paused in the act of collecting ingredients. “Is that a challenge, Ms Lane? I think I’m well able to match up to any challenge you might pose - but are you?”
The words had only escaped his mouth when he wondered just what he was doing. This was getting dangerously like flirting - and if Lois realised that, she’d be out the door quicker than he could blink.
But she raised one eyebrow, very slowly, then said, “Careful, Kent. I might just decide to tell Perry that I prefer working without a partner.”
The twitch of her lips gave her away. He grinned in response. “You’d miss me.”
He was fully prepared for her to deny it, but she surprised him once more. “Yes. I think I would.” Her tone suggested that the realisation surprised her too. Her abrupt change of subject wasn’t unexpected. “So, where’s this hot chocolate you promised me?”
“Coming right up.” He set some milk to boil and assembled the other ingredients, real dark chocolate, cinnamon powder and one or two other items, mixing them into the cooking milk when appropriate. The final touches, fresh cream, marshmallows and chocolate sticks, he added once he’d poured the mixture into two large mugs.
“This looks
wonderful!” Lois exclaimed. “What’s this?” She waved the melting chocolate stick at him.
“It’s called a Flake. They’re made by an English chocolate company, Cadbury’s - you can get them over here, though they’re hard to find. They’re just perfect with hot chocolate.” Gesturing for her to precede him, he headed towards the living area. “Come and sit down.”
“So, where were you tonight?” Lois asked him once she was sitting on the opposite end of his long, comfortable sofa.
He explained about Mrs Brazzini; Lois seemed mildly impressed that he would go to so much trouble for a neighbour. He just shrugged. “That’s the way I grew up, Lois - if a neighbour needed something, we all rallied around. It’s not so different here.”
“I dunno. The city can be very different sometimes,” Lois said, playing idly with the rug thrown over the back of the sofa.
And her comment reminded him... “So, Lois, what are you doing here anyway? I mean, it’s only just after ten, and you
were on a date tonight, but you’re not exactly dressed for a date... What happened to whatshisname?”
She rolled her eyes, before dropping her gaze. “Whatshisname is history.”
“Well, I guess I figured that much...” He let the sentence trail off, waiting to see if she would elaborate.
“Okay, since you’re curious,” she said, now sounding almost bitter. “It didn’t work out. It wasn’t going to work out. So I dumped him.”
Whatever had happened, it had upset Lois. Clark extended his free arm across the back of the sofa, letting his hand lie lightly on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you had a lousy time.”
In a way, though, he wasn’t sorry. That was one of the reasons why he’d been so happy to spend over an hour with Mrs Brazzini; it had been an hour
not spent alone in his apartment thinking about Lois on her latest date with some GQ-style, ambitious, sharp-suited guy who didn’t deserve her - even if another Whatshisname was better than Lex Luthor. Wishing that he was the one with her instead. Trying not to think of her having a great time, enjoying herself, letting the guy kiss her, maybe even letting him do even more with her at the end of the evening.
Yes, he was glad that she’d had a lousy time.
But there was not a snowball’s chance in hell that he would tell her that!
“He was an
octopus, Clark!” she exclaimed. “He just thought he could paw me as much as he wanted!”
Clark’s gaze fell on his hand where it rested on her shoulder; with a grimace, he moved it away. Lois’s expression changed instantly to apology, and she reached out and grabbed at his hand. “I didn’t mean that, Clark! I didn’t mean you! I
like it when you touch me...” she began, then trailed off, blushing.
A warm feeling stole over him. “I like touching you, too, Lois,” he murmured softly, replacing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “Okay, so what did whatshisname do? And do you need me to go and take him apart for you?”
Her eyes widened. “Would you? If I asked you to?”
He shrugged awkwardly. “Well... I’m not really into violence, Lois. But - if you really wanted me to...”
She shook her head. “It’s really sweet of you to offer, though. Anyway,” she added, “what I meant was that he just wouldn’t stop touching me, and it was all inappropriate. Like... you know the way you put your arm around the back of my waist sometimes when we’re walking?”
Clark nodded. He did that a lot, he realised, and wondered if she was going to say that she objected.
“Well, he did that - but it was only an excuse to let his hand slide down over my butt!” she exclaimed in disgust. “He did that at least five times, even though the first time he did it I told him I didn’t appreciate it. And he kept making excuses to walk past me, or around me, just so he could step a little bit too close and rub up against me. When we were sitting down - I was wearing a short skirt,” she explained, “he kept touching my knee and sliding his hand up... And his arm kept brushing my breasts!”
Unable to help himself, Clark’s gaze fell briefly to that part of Lois’s anatomy. Yup, he could see why the guy would be tempted - but that didn’t make it right.
“Yeah, he needs to be taken apart, all right,” he growled. “You sure you don’t want me to...?”
She was blushing, and he knew why. It had to be embarrassing for her to relate all that, especially to a guy. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his surreptitious eyeing of her body - that had been pretty rude of him. She shook her head again. “No. It’s okay. I already dealt with him, anyway.”
Curious, he asked, “What did you do?”
She grinned. “Well, we were having dinner. We were sitting at one of those semi-circular tables where he was sort of beside me, not opposite me. And when he leaned forward for about the fourth time just so he could look down my cleavage, I just picked up his plate and tipped its contents on his lap.” She smiled triumphantly, as if reliving the moment. “It was beef in red wine. It’ll stain horribly.”
Clark gave a bark of laughter. “You didn’t!”
“You bet I did! Anyway, then I just picked up my purse and walked out - the last I saw, he was desperately trying to mop it all up with his napkin without letting anyone else in the restaurant see what he was doing. But since I pointed at him and yelled, ‘You pervert!’ just before I left, I don’t think he succeeded.”
When he was able to speak again, Clark said, “Lois, remind me never to make you really mad at me, okay?”
She grinned, then thumped his arm with her free hand. “I never use the same revenge twice. So be warned!”
She turned her attention to her hot chocolate then; it had obviously cooled down enough for her to drink. Clark watched her face in the flickering shadows illuminated by the low table-lamp, which was the only light in that area of his apartment, enjoying the opportunity to observe her without being observed himself.
He saw her first reaction on sipping her drink: pleasure and relaxation, quickly followed by a sharp raising of her eyebrows. “Clark! This is
delicious! It’s way,
way better than the hot chocolate at the Daily Java!”
“I should hope so, too!” he retorted, grinning. “I told you - it’s my mom’s recipe.”
“Figures. Your mom’s a terrific cook.”
“So.” He gave her a challenging look. “Kent and Lane, then?”
She turned her head to return his gaze, and gave him a slow smile. “I guess.”
*********
Lois snuggled back into the sofa once she’d drained her chocolate, debating with herself whether she could really justify asking Clark to make some more. It was incredibly decadent and no doubt highly calorific - but then, seeing as she’d barely eaten her dinner earlier, she probably deserved something delicious and fattening.
Clark’s apartment really was amazingly cosy and homely, she thought, glancing around. It was strange; no interior design magazine would even give it a second glance - unlike hers - but it was such a restful, nice place to be. The shabby old sofa was so comfortable; she could easily curl up and sleep here. In fact, she reminded herself with an amused smile, she already had slept there on one occasion.
The low lighting worked, as well; it created a more restful atmosphere, for one thing. And also a more intimate one.
At that thought, her gaze fell on her partner, sitting at his end of the sofa and sipping his chocolate. He turned his head slightly and smiled at her; her gaze skittered away again.
This was Clark! Her partner - her friend. Definitely not someone to be having thoughts of intimacy with.
Maybe she should suggest that he put on another light. Or maybe she should go home.
But she didn’t want to go home. That was why she was here.
For some reason, after abandoning Whatshisname at the restaurant and going home to get changed, she’d felt restless. Disturbed. In need of someone to talk to.
Needing to talk to Clark.
The phone wasn’t good enough, she’d decided, and she’d jumped into her car and driven straight over, without any thought as to whether he’d be in or not. Thankfully, she’d only had to sit on his doorstep for a couple of minutes before he’d arrived.
He’d been every bit as understanding as she’d hoped; annoyed on her behalf, but also, she’d seen from the dancing light in his eyes, appreciative of the humour in the situation. That was her partner, all right. And that was why she’d wanted to be with him.
Nobody understood her like Clark did.
She turned to smile at him again. With a touch of relief, she saw that he was just Clark, the same ordinary guy she worked with and liked so much. Just Clark. Nothing extraordinary about him at all. Certainly nothing to engender that strange reaction she’d had a few minutes ago when she’d glanced at him.
“So, I take it you won’t be seeing Whatshisname again?” he asked, laughter in his voice.
Lois grinned at him, shifting a little on the sofa. He moved too, sliding his arm from its current position to around her shoulders, in the process tugging her a little closer to him. “Comfortable?” he murmured.
“Sure!” She patted his knee. “You know how to make a girl feel at home, Clark. And no, I won’t be seeing him again. Hell would freeze over...”
“So how many disastrous dates is that in the last couple of months?” he enquired, grinning with a level of amusement she thought was far too gleeful.
“Define disastrous.”
“Oh, I don’t know...” he drawled. “How about dates where you swear blind you will never, ever speak the guy’s name again? Where you tell him that he can see you again, but only if you don’t see him coming first? When you call me to have breakfast with you the next day only so you can spend half an hour telling me what a slob your date was?”
Clark broke off, grinning widely, as she swatted at him with her free hand. “I do *not* have that many disastrous dates!”
“Enough, though,” he said softly.
“Yeah.” She grimaced, admitting that irritating fact.
Sitting back again, she relaxed into Clark’s loose embrace. It really was just so nice to be here like this, in the undemanding company of the one man she actually liked. He made her laugh, kept her amused, stimulated and challenged her brain. And, best of all, he’d never once tried anything on with her.
It was such a shame that none of the men she dated seemed to possess those same qualities...
“You know,” she murmured, snuggling more comfortably against her partner, “It’s kind of a pity that you and I aren’t attracted to each other, isn’t it? I mean, we get along so well... and I can’t imagine tipping boeuf bourguignon into your lap.”
She was taken aback when he seemed to tense immediately. Then, sounding stunned, he said, “Who says I’m not attracted to you?”
*********
...tbc
