“Good morning,” he said sleepily with a large, sappy grin. “I still can’t believe we’re together like this.” He reached up to stroke the side of her face.
Stunned, she gasped at the sound of his voice, and jumped away from his hand invading her personal space.
She stared at him, unable to pull her gaze away from his eyes. Those deep brown eyes. Soulful. Mysterious. Familiar. “Your not . . .” her voice trailed off, shocked, hurt, dismayed.
She had been terribly mistaken. Those large brown eyes weren’t Clark’s. She’d know them anywhere. “Oh my god,” she whispered, almost inaudibly. “It’s you, Superman.” She had been in bed with her hero. She was going to throw up.
His eyes shot open. She had called him Superman. Was it his imagination, his paranoia? What a wake up call. Clark had expected drift awake blissfully kissing and caressing his love. But he had been so wrong. “Wha-what?” He was frozen, unable to do anything but stare at her dumbly.
“You heard me, Superman,” she said icily.
“What?” he said again, this time more clearly. He shook his head, trying to understand what was happening. Superman? Had she called him Superman? She knew? How could she know?
He slowly reached a hand up to his face. No glasses. They must have fallen off in his sleep. No, he had taken them off last night when Lois had asked him to. He had wanted to let her figure out his secret.
“Lois,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I knew . . . know . . . I should have told you. I can’t let our relationship keep going without you knowing everything about me.” He ran his hand through his hair, ashamed he had surrendered to the moment without telling last night. Was one night of passion more important than honesty? “I let my emotions take over. I should have told you.” His dream night had happened under a cloud of deception. He wasn’t good enough to call himself human, let alone Superman. He saw a tear in Lois’s eye and he wanted to reach out to her. At the same time, a small part of him wanted to run away and never return.
“Superman,” she whispered. Lois stared into his eyes, unable to look away. Her mind whirled and her words came out in an incoherent jumble. “Your eyes.” They were Superman’s eyes. “Your voice.” Clark’s voice. “How?” They were in Clark’s bedroom, and she had immediately assumed she was sleeping with Clark, but those steely muscles had to belong to Superman. She reached out to touch his hair. His dark, thick, silky, sleep-mussed hair. Superman could get bed head? “Your hair. It moves. I thought it was stuck to your head.” He flew at speeds faster than a speeding bullet without one hair falling out of place. “Bed head. How can you get bed head?” She shook her head wildly. Then she abruptly stopped, surrendering to the pain coursing through her skull, stopping her thought process. “But Clark. Clark can get bed head.”
She blinked, trying to merge the images of two separate men into one. They eyes. The hair. The body. The voice. Everything began to fall into place. Clark and Superman. Superman and Clark. Each man was someone she knew so well, but didn’t know at all. Or did she know them both all too well? "Oh my god," she breathed. "You're Clark. And Superman." And she needed to get out of there. She was humiliated, frightened, betrayed, yet intrigued. With him so close, she had no time to digest everything that had happened in the last few seconds.
“Lois . . .” Clark stared at her blankly, frozen in place. After staring at her speechless for what seemed like an eternity, he found his voice. “Yes,” he said simply in a voice no louder than a whisper. “I am Clark. And Superman.”
Her heart pounded and she was shaking. “Clark, you can fly. And Superman is from Kansas. And Clark, you save the world. And Superman is my partner.” Two men. One man. “And you fooled me for so long. What an investigator 'Mad Dog Lane', tenacious reporter, the woman who could look everyday criminals in the eye and challenge them mercilessly, the woman who could solve any mystery thrown at her really is. I couldn’t even figure out that the two men most important to me were really the same man. What an idiot. How blind was I? You can’t be that brilliant. A simple blue spandex suit and a pair of glasses were all it took to fool Lois Lane. I should have seen right through it. But I didn’t. I knew both of you, and I didn’t know.” She looked down at the sheet covering her body. “And you can probably see right through this. Not that you haven’t seen it already. . .” her voice trailed off, ending her babbling diatribe.
Lois's words felt like daggers through Clark's head. Lois knew. Lois knew. Lois knew. He was a fool. Why hadn’t he had the guts to tell her himself? “Lois, I’ve never . . .” He let his voice trail off. She was right.
“You can’t tell me you’ve never.”
“Okay, Lois, yes, I can see through the sheet. It would have to be lined with lead for me not to be able to see. Is that what you wanted me to say? I can see through anything you wear if I really want to.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t do it. I can control myself, Lois. I’m not a voyeur! I will only look if you want me to look.” Looking at her now, he sighed and said, “And I can see that is not going to happen for a long time.”
She pulled the sheet around her more tightly. “How do I know you’re not looking now?”
He sighed deeply, and said. “I know exactly how you can tell, but I don’t want to show you.”
“What?” She shook her head.
“Never mind.” He took a deep breath. “Lois, if I were looking at you, I’d be a little more excited than this.” He pulled the sheet away from himself, exposing his entire body to her.
“What are you doing, Superman. Are you trying to seduce me again?”
“Again? Lois, I am not trying to seduce you.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” What was happening? How had everything changed so quickly? Had he been so naïve to think that a simple pair of glasses and a tight, flashy, spandex costume would fool people for long? “Lois, you’re the *best* investigator I’ve ever known. I can’t fool you.”
“But you did,” she said softly. “How do I know you’re not trying to do it again?”
“Lois, you’ve been so close to my secret almost since the moment I met you, and lately I’ve been so lax around you. I wanted you to know, but I couldn’t figure out how to tell you. And I’m sure I’ve ruined any credibility with you . . .” Especially after sleeping with her last night without telling her the truth. “I’m so sorry, Lois,” was all he could bring himself to say.
She visibly jumped back. “Why?” she said simply, her voice straining not to break. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Clark took a deep breath. He had been expecting that question, but wasn’t entirely sure how to answer. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “No, I do know. Lois, I am so sorry. I guess I am nothing more than a liar.” Shaking his head woefully, he looked down into his hands, unable to keep her gaze. “I guess I am afraid of telling anyone about my,” he paused, almost unable to go on, “differences.”
“Scared of me?” she asked, her voice almost shaking. “What could I possibly do to you?”
His humiliation grew. Why was he such an idiot? Hearing her voice made him realize how stupid he sounded. “I don’t know.” He sighed deeply. “I’ve never told anyone, so I really don’t know. Turn me in to the authorities so they can dissect me like a frog?”
Did he know how absurd he sounded? “Dissect you like a frog? They couldn’t even cut your skin.” She couldn’t believe they were having this argument.
“My dad always said,” he let his voice trail off. “I’ve never told anyone so I’d never have to find out what would happen. Come on, Lois, how many people want to know that the guy they work with is an alien? That your neighbor has special powers? That their best friend is Superman?”
She almost wanted to reassure him, but she knew he was right. “I don’t know. How did you know I wouldn’t think it was cool? I mean, Superman as a partner?” If she had known that from the beginning, maybe she would have been a little nicer to him. Or not. Instead of going the argumentative route, she decided to ask, “You’ve never told anyone?” She wasn’t surprised, but it kept their conversation going.
“No one. My parents are the only people who know. But, Lois, you are the only person in the world I would tell. You helped me create Superman. You gave me an outlet to use my differences to help.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then, Clark? Superman?”
He interrupted, “Clark, Lois. Clark is who I am, who I always have been. He’s the only person I’ve ever been or ever will be. Superman is a character you helped me create to hide my true identity. He’s a one-dimensional enigma with special powers.”
The more he talked, the more it hurt. She sighed deeply. He was almost insulting her by saying Superman wasn’t real. She knew Superman. She loved Superman. He was real. “But you didn’t answer my question, Clark.” She made a point of deliberately pronouncing his name. “Why would you keep it a secret from me? I thought I was Superman’s friend. And Clark’s friend.” She angrily brushed a tear from her cheek.
He felt his cheeks reddening when faced with her accusation. Why did he want to fly out of there far, far away? It didn’t even matter that he was completely naked. He needed to escape. “Lois,” he said softly. “I was, am, terrified of you. You didn’t see yourself when I first met you.”
She shot him an angry look. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged knowing he would regret what he was going to say, but not knowing how to stop his words. “The Lois Lane I met was only out for her own glory. Can you tell me you wouldn’t have run with the story of Superman’s true identity? Would it have bothered you that it would have ruined one man’s life if you had gotten a Pulitzer?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean, you’re wrong. I would never do that,” she said instantly. Her voice trailed off because she knew he was right. The elusive Pulitzer; she would have stopped at nothing to get one. The story of the century, Superman’s true identity. How hard had she tried to find out the truth? It had been right in front of her the whole time. She looked down at her hands, cowering at the truth. “I was stupid,” she whispered.
“You were *not* stupid, Lois,” he declared. The distance that separated them seemed so long. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to comfort her, but he needed to help himself first. All he could add was, “You’re passionate. And I love that about you.”
She half-smiled. “Thank you.” Then her smile faded. “But why didn’t you *ever* tell me?” She took a deep breath. “After we got to know each other, I mean. We both knew that I would never tell anyone. I thought we were friends!” Friends. Maybe she had been mistaken.
He sighed. She had picked up his biggest weakness. His caution might have ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him. The words wouldn’t come. He hadn't rehearsed this important soul-bearing revelation scene yet! "I was going to tell you, Lois. I wanted to tell you so badly.”
“Then why didn’t you?” she challenged. Everything was happening so quickly; she wasn’t sure if she was angry, upset, sad, scared, or numb. A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She didn’t want it there, but she didn’t want to make the move to brush it away.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve known I had to tell you the truth about myself almost since the day I met you. I was just,” he let his voice trail off for a moment, trying to find the right words, “waiting for the right time.”
Lois shook her head. “Right,” she muttered almost under her breath. “You only told me because I caught you.”
Clark inhaled sharply. Maybe she was right. “I am so sorry, Lois. I guess I was scared.” What a lousy excuse. What kind of man was he?
“Scared?” she repeated. “Scared? You were scared?” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Some writer she was! She couldn’t even come up with a good snappy retort, the one thing she was supposed to be good at.
Her idealized image of Superman had shattered before her. He wasn’t pure, wasn’t wholesome, wasn’t perfect. He was Clark Kent, her flawed, scared, human partner.
He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m such an idiot,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I let this happen.” He took a deep breath. “Lois, you have to believe me. I was going to tell you. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Not this way. I am so sorry. I should have told you before,” he let his voice trail off.
“Before?” she asked sharply. Suddenly, everything about their situation came rushing back to her. She was naked. He was naked. They were in his bed. “What happened, Clark?” She knew what had happened. Now she needed confirmation.
“Last night,” he answered sheepishly, almost afraid to put it into words. “I should have never let it happen without telling you about myself. I don’t know why . . .”
“So we did!” she interrupted. It felt like her entire world had been shattered. She wiped a stream of tears from her cheek. Her whole body went numb. Before, the idea had just been hypothetical. Now it was so painfully real. She couldn’t deny it any longer. “Oh my god.”
He looked at her, confused. She seemed shocked, like she almost didn’t remember what happened between them. “Lois?”
“We slept together?” she croaked. Instantly, her mouth had gone dry, and she almost couldn’t say the words. “So it’s true.” Suddenly, she shivered and tightened the sheet around her. She was scared. She was numb. She was exposed. This was a nightmare.
“Lois?” His heart fell. “Don’t you remember?” He wasn’t sure what to do or what to say. It felt like his world was crashing around him.
“Remember?” she asked sharply. “How do you expect me to remember? Who knows how much I drank last night!” They must have gotten completely wasted. But Superman, no, Clark couldn’t get drunk. If he couldn’t get drunk and she could, one conclusion came to her mind. “Did you take advantage of me?” The words sounded so strange coming out of her mouth. “You’re the one, two, men I’ve always thought would never hurt me.”
“Lois,” he said, almost in shock. “You weren’t drunk.” He took a deep breath. “We weren’t drunk.” After a moment of consideration, he added, “You don’t remember last night?”
“Did you get me drunk?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Did I get you drunk?” He stared at her, unable to think of anything to say to defend himself. In a matter of seconds, his whole world had changed so dramatically. “Lois, you weren’t drunk. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t remember.” She subconsciously tightened the sheet around her. “I don’t remember anything.” How had this happened? “I had to have been plastered, Clark. What else could make me forget? Where did we go? What did we do? And you slept with me? Even knowing how drunk I was?”
“What?” He inched back from her accusation. “You weren’t drunk. You couldn’t have been.” His heart fell. Could it get any worse?
“What are you trying to tell me?” Was he trying to make her forget that she had been drunk? Could this be some kind of elaborate scheme? She wouldn’t have believed either Clark or Superman capable of anything flowing through her mind, but after finding out he had lied to her since the moment he had met her made almost anything seem possible. “How do I know you’re not lying now?” She shuddered, unable to believe the thoughts circulating in her mind. She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I thought you, both of you, were so honest, so noble, so good, so trustworthy. I can’t believe you . . .”
He knew it sounded stupid, but he said, “Lois, please, you have to believe me.”
"How do I know you aren’t some kind of criminal? How can I be sure you don’t use Superman to woo innocent women to fall for you, like I did, and then you use some Kryptonian evil magic power . . ."
“Lois!” he exclaimed. “I don’t have any magical powers!” He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, not caring that he was no longer clutching the sheet covering him. How could she not remember the most magical night of his life? “And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t use them to take advantage of anyone.”
“Okay, maybe not magical powers, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t remember anything! I woke up in bed next to you and that’s all I remember.” She looked down at her body, and instantly felt her nakedness. All that covered her was a thin, white sheet. Did it even matter? Clark could see through anything, and maybe had since the moment they met. Suddenly, she felt so exposed, so dirty. Before she had time to consider that horrific thought, she decided to deal with the issue at hand. She stared at him icily as she said, "Why did you do it, Clark?"
"Do what?" Clark pulled the sheet to better cover himself, to shield his body from her angry stare. This was the last thing he had expected after their night together. How could she think their experience had been anything other than amazing or any other superlative?
She took a deep breath, and started at him angrily. “How could you take advantage of me? I trusted you.”
"I what?" It felt like all the air had left Clark's lungs and he was unable to breathe.
“I trusted you, Clark.” She wanted to run away. But something was making her stay. Everything she had held true about the world's goodness had been so cruelly shattered in a few mere seconds. She needed time to process everything that had happened. At this point, she might have been making matters so much worse. She needed a clear picture of what had happened to her. And that wasn’t going to happen here sitting next to him in bed naked.
"Lois, are you okay? I don't know what you're talking about." He stood up, and reached out to grab her arms. “You came to me. You seduced me. I thought you wanted me.”
“I what!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t have. I don’t remember,” she let her voice trail off, and tried to associate this revelation with what she knew about herself. “Clark, I wouldn’t have come to you. But I don’t remember,” she admitted. Was it smart to tell him that she had no recollection of an entire day? Would he be able to shape her memories to what he wanted? Could Clark have done something to her to make her forget?
"You don't remember? What don’t you remember?" His stomach dropped even further. It had been a fantasy.
"Anything, Clark. Not last night, not yesterday.” She took a deep breath. “All I know is that I woke up completely naked, next to you in your bed.” Did she want to ask him the question lingering in the back of her mind? She had to. “You didn’t give me anything, Clark? Did you?” He couldn’t have given her rufies, right? Maybe something Kryptonian she’d never even heard of? Would he tell her if he had?
“Did I give you something?” He took a deep breath. “Of course not.” Not only did she know his secret, she was practically accusing him of raping her. He felt tears prickling at his eyes. "You don't remember anything?"
Her heart melted when she saw the tears in his eyes. There was something almost scary about Superman crying. But maybe it was a ploy. "I figured out your plan, Clark Kent." She looked him straight in the eyes with her gaze unwavering.
"What plan?"
"Don't play innocent with me. I’ve figured it all out. You want to populate the earth with little Superbabies so you and your army can take over the world." Did that sound as absurd to him as it did to her? She couldn’t take it back, though.
"What? Lois, please, can we look at this rationally?" He didn't even want to dignify her wild suggestion with an answer. How could she even think . . .?
"Rationally?" She stared at him, unable to understand what he had said. She was looking at the situation completely rationally, especially considering the situation.
"You don't remember anything from yesterday, Lois?"
"No. You should know how your drugs work better than I do." God, she was jumping into the deep end now. How had she gone from waking up naked with Clark to waking up naked with Superman to waking up with Clark and Superman? Now suddenly she was thinking about rape and drugs? What was wrong with her?
Clark sighed deeply. "I don't have any drugs!" He took a deep breath and repeated, "I didn’t drug you."
There was no way she could turn back now. "Then . . ."
He interrupted, "But I think something must have happened." He ran a hand through his hair thinking. He should have known. Lois couldn't have meant her declaration of love. "Do you remember anything?"
"I remember . . ." her voice trailed off as she strained to remember any part of yesterday.
"You remember," Clark prodded.
"Morning. After the staff meeting . . ."
She remembered it vividly as the images and emotions rushed back to her.
" . . . the bug story," Clark finished.
Lois closed her eyes and let her mind drift to her last memory before her mind had gone completely blank.
**********
“Perry, you’ve got to be kidding!” Lois shifted in her chair angrily. Sometimes talking to Perry White was like talking to a brick wall with an Elvis obsession. Her editor wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him in the butt! She took a deep breath trying to calm down to keep her professionalism.
“Lois, I know what I’m doing.” He smiled at her, and said, “You can put some zing into that fruit fly story.”
What was he talking about? Obviously, she was the only one with sense. This was completely unacceptable. How could Clark have gotten the big dockworkers' strike, and she had gotten a stupid story about fruit flies? “But, Perry,” she let her voice trail off not wanting to sound like she was whining. “Are you sure Clark is the right reporter for the dockworkers’ strike?” She wanted to ask if he knew how crazy he was.
How could he assign Clark, a newbie, a greenhorn to the biggest story in weeks? Insanity was the only possible answer. Anyone with a healthy mind would see how stupid that was! If he wasn't mentally ill, then maybe someone had brainwashed him.
Hey, it had been known to happen! It wasn't like Perry had never been brainwashed! And she was pretty sure who had brainwashed him; it was probably someone whose name began with a 'C' and ended with a 'lark'.
Come on! Like Clark could cover the dockworkers' strike as well as she could. Yeah right. Who was Perry trying to kid? Did he want to compromise the integrity of the paper?
“Lois, give me some credit. We both know I didn’t get to be editor of the Daily Planet because I can yodel.”
She wanted to roll her eyes and say something gripping, but she held her tongue. With these current assignments, obviously Perry White did not want to produce the best possible stories. He needed to give his best reporters the best assignments to create the best final product. Shouldn’t that be obvious?
Her skills would be better used on the strike story rather than the stupid fruit fly story. She knew it. Perry knew it. Clark knew it.
“But, Perry, aren’t all assignments negotiable?” She wasn’t sure if saying that out loud was a good idea. From the look on Perry’s face, probably not.
“You’re jealous, Lois. You can’t stand another reporter getting a better story.”
She rolled her eyes. “Jealous?” The word sounded funny coming out of her mouth. “Of Clark Kent?” As if that could ever happen! Maybe Perry really had become editor-in-chief of the world's greatest newspaper because he could yodel. It obviously wasn’t due to his wonderful instincts. Could he be any more misguided? “If I’m jealous of Clark, then fruit flies are interesting.” She waved her hand spastically in anger, unsure how to validly reflect all of her feelings. “No, if I’m jealous of Clark, pigs can fly with the stupid fruit flies! If I’m jealous of Clark, then fruit files are really pigs with wings!”
Perry grinned at her smugly, probably coming up with some kind of Elvis story -- probably about jealousy with a moral at the end.
She continued, unable to stop, “I’m trying to help him, to protect him. I’m looking out for his best interests.”
He raised his eyebrows, and said in his deep southern drawl, “Oh you are?”
She knew he was riding her, and they both knew how stupid she sounded, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Absolutely. If I’m not there to help him, he’ll fall flat on his face.” In fact, he'd end up like a Clark-shaped pancake! And no one wanted that to happen to poor Clark. “He needs his senior partner’s help.”
“You don’t even want a partner.”
“I know,” she said sheepishly, unsure of an appropriate response.
“Lois, you don’t have enough faith in Clark. You’ve taught him well.”
He was trying to give her an ego boost, trying to get rid of her. She knew he wasn’t going to change his mind, but something inside of her made her keep talking to him. “Of course I have faith in him.” After all, he did have the best teacher. “But he’s still so green. He’s not ready for such a large responsibility.” Perry was wrong in expecting so much, in putting too much unnecessary strain on such a new employee. It could all be alleviated so easily! Now the fruit fly story . . . that was right up Clark's alley. He would do a beautiful story about, well, something about fruit flies. He would write it in a way people would find interesting and captivating. He'd done it before. Like in some story he had written a few years ago that had won some sort of wilderness award when he worked somewhere weird in the middle of nowhere. It was about lizards, or Gila monsters, or geckos or something. “Now fruit flies,” she continued, “would be perfect for him.” They should switch stories. What a great idea! Maybe her best ever.
“No, Lois, the fruit flies are your story.” Perry wouldn’t budge. “Clark can handle the strike. Story assignments are not negotiable.”
Lois rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. Perry had completely unrealistic expectations for the other reporters. Not everyone could live up to Lois Lane's high standards of excellence! Clark Kent was undoubtedly in over his head. He had never covered anything as big as the dockworkers' strike in his few months at the 'Planet'. At least he hadn't done any story of this caliber without her help. She was sure he'd never come upon a story like this working at the Smallville Smallpaper or the Borneo Gazette. Clark needed help. More specifically, he needed *her* help! Instead of working on this stupid bug piece, she should be helping him. The city's best reporter should be on the city's juiciest story!
She was at her best when she sunk her teeth into the juicy stories. Her true potential could never be reached if she was stuck with stupid stories about bugs! And Clark, well, he liked bugs! Perfect! But no-o-o. Perry couldn’t see the obvious if it bit him in the face. Too bad stupid fruit flies couldn't bite him in the face right now.
He seemed to think it was a "rule" that reporters had to write whatever story he assigned. Yeah right. How often did she follow that rule? Why did she have to start now?
Perry started lecturing her, but she wasn’t really paying attention. It all sounded like, “Blah, blah, blah, turn over a new leaf. Blah, blah, blah, give Kent a chance. Blah, blah, blah, Kent's perfectly capable of doing it himself. Blah, blah, blah, fruit flies.”
Whatever. She wanted to answer, ‘Blah, blah, blah, this story will *never* pan out!’
“Get to work, Lois,” Perry said in a demonstrative tone that made her stand up and walk out the door.
“Yes, Chief,” she said as she shut the door. She would get to work, but not on the bug story. If Perry wasn't going to switch the stories himself, she would have to bypass higher authority and go straight to the source. Clark would listen to reason even if Perry wouldn't! Clark was nothing if not dependable and easily convinced.
She looked out over the busy newsroom and trying to locate her target. Clark would see how right she was! Nothing to worry about.
He was over by the coffee and donuts, pouring sugar into his coffee mug with two donuts in his hand. Sugar and caffeine were a 'Planet' employee's two staple foods. Clark especially. He was a notorious sugar addict. Where else would he be?
He looked up from his mug, and Lois locked eyes with him. Her eyes never left his as she stormed across the room towards him. He was trapped like a deer caught in headlights. Look at how wide his eyes were. Good. It was going exactly the way she had planned.
When she was close enough to touch him, she put a hand on his arm and said, "There you are! I've been looking for you, partner." She flashed her most brilliant smile. He obviously had no idea she was about to throw him right in the middle of an ever-exciting story about -- bum da dum dum -- fruit flies!
Clark looked at Lois like she was crazy. He'd known something was up as he had watched Lois stride towards him. He had picked up some of her random muttering at Perry’s door. She'd looked like a wildcat waiting to pounce on her prey. That maniacal look in her eyes was unmistakable, even though she was trying to hide it behind her smile.
He was in trouble. Clark gulped when he felt her hand on his arm. She was trying to butter him up. He had to resist the sparks of pleasure coursing through his body at the mere feel of her hand against his skin.
No! Resist. He had to resist.
He couldn't think about how beautiful she looked in that . . .
No! He had to listen to her words rather than focus on her actions. She was trying to fool him, to appeal to his primal side.
She certainly was one tricky woman. And he was a crazy, lovesick fool. What a wonderful pair!
Okay, now what did she say before he started wallowing? Oh right. Partner?
Lois Lane had never willingly admitted that she and Clark were partners. She wanted something. Unfortunately, he knew what it was.
That was the problem with having superpowers. His enhanced hearing had accidentally locked on Lois's conversation with Perry after the morning staff meeting. He hated eavesdropping, but he had heard his name, and couldn’t stop listening even when he knew he didn't want to hear any more.
He should have forced himself to stop listening because he hadn't heard anything good.
Lois had tried to convince Perry to let her hone in on his story. It was his story! How dare she! It was like she thought he wasn't good enough! No, she was jealous. She had a story she hated, and he had an interesting story. Jealous.
Clark stared at her incredulously, eyebrows raised skeptically. "Partner?" he said in a challenging tone. He wasn't going to let her win so easily! This was going to be a fight to the death, and he was planning to win!
Go team Kent! It was bound to be a tough battle, but he was going to emerge victorious. Lois was the toughest opponent he'd ever faced.
"Well, yeah, partner." Trying to keep herself calm, she grabbed a cup and poured herself some coffee. Changing the subject to throw Clark off the scent, she exclaimed, "Eew! This stuff tastes like raw sewage!"
"Raw sewage?" Clark shook his head. Partner, raw sewage, yeah, those things were related. He needed to roll with it. This was obviously some kind of ingenious ploy to get him to think about something else. He took a sip of his coffee and muttered, "It tastes bad, but not like raw sewage."
"Have you ever tasted raw sewage?" She raised her eyebrows and stared at him; she'd actually had the raw sewage experience not so long ago. This coffee tasted pretty similar. When he shrugged, but failed to offer any other response, she added, "I could make better coffee than this."
"Really, Lois? Have you ever tasted your own coffee? Believe me, sewage tastes better." That was a low blow. He didn't usually act like this, but his instincts were taking over. She had insulted him! He wasn't going to tell her how wonderful she was, especially not after she had told their boss that he was inexperienced and too green to handle a story like the dockworkers' strike!
Lois rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Anyway, partner, why don't we get started on that strike story? You can get me up to speed on everything you have so far." She tugged on his arm to get him moving towards his desk.
Lois guided him towards his desk, and Clark stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait a second, Lois."
"Hmm?" She looked at him trying to pretend she was completely innocent. He would buy it. Of course he would. Clark was that gullible.
"Why don't WE get started on the strike story?" He looked at her with innocent eyes, trying to hide his slight unease.
Shoot! He didn't buy it! The ambush tactic had failed! "Well, we are partners, aren't we?"
Clark shook his head incredulously. So this was how it worked. They were partners when it benefited Lois in some way. He wasn't going to let her push him around. At least not this time! "Wait a second. Didn’t Perry give you a story?"
Lois rolled her eyes again in frustration. Details. "Oh, that stupid fly story. The flies can fly away." She made an agitated flying motion with her hand.
Clark laughed at her frustrated, erratic motions. She was really upset, but he wasn't going to cave. "Flies?" he asked innocently, playing her game. If she was going to play hardball, she was messing with the wrong guy. He could play the game right along with her.
"Right, fruit flies." She brushed the subject away, saying, "I guess there's a big infestation in the suburbs or something and I'm supposed to cover the spraying and the possibly dangers of the pesticide, whatever it is."
Hmm, Clark's eyes had lit up a bit when she mentioned fruit fly infestation. Maybe he would bite on her scheme. She had given him the perfect bait. It had all of the perfect elements for him: bugs, human interest, and farmland. Ideal for a man from a town called Smallville. He would actually be interested in something like that!
Lois continued, "Oh, Clark, I think you'd really be interested in this story. It's a real . . . page turner." She stifled a yawn. "Perfect for you," she added.
Clark knew he had slipped. Lois had seen his weakness, an actual interest in her story. Whoops. He needed to back out of this . . . quickly. He had something Lois wanted. For the first time in the months he had known her, he controlled the situation.
Now he needed to correct his mistake. He couldn't let her see weakness. The solution was avoidance. It was time to change the subject. "I know you don't like your story, but you know as well as I do that we're supposed to write whatever stories we're assigned, whether we like it or not." That was great! He had effectively changed the subject and gotten the attention away from his interest in her story. He smiled at her. "I guess I lucked out this time."
Lucked out. Yeah right. He was positively smirking at her! Oh, now the smirk was gone. Maybe she was being paranoid.
Time for step two. "But, Clark, we're partners. That means we work together."
"In what way?"
"Well, I help you with your story."
Clark finished her train of thought, "And I write your story for you?"
"Exactly." She nodded enthusiastically. Yes! He got it!
"No," he answered simply and proceeded to take a bite of his chocolate cream donut and chew it slowly, deliberately.
What was that strange word coming from Clark's mouth? Were her ears playing tricks on her? She thought she heard it, but she didn't believe it. "No?"
He swallowed his donut and said, "You heard me. I'll be perfectly fine with the dockworkers' strike on my own. I think it's time for this greenhorn to spread his wings and fly like a fruit fly."
"Ha. Ha. Very funny." Clark was probably the least amusing person she'd ever known.
"I know you don't like your story, Lois, but sometimes we have to write stories we think are dumb when there is nothing else to write about and we need to fill the space."
"This is Metropolis. How could there be nothing else to write about?"
"If there is so much to write about, why are you trying to move in on my story?"
"What?" Oh no! Clark had turned the tables on her! How had he done that? He shouldn't be able to do that! It had always been against the rules!
"You're jealous!" Lois was jealous of him! It was an interestingly satisfying feeling.
"I am NOT jealous!" Lois sighed audibly. Why couldn't anyone see that? It was completely obvious! She added, "I'm trying to help you!"
"Help me or steal my story?" Clark calmly took a sip of his sludge-like coffee and a bite of the maple frosted donut and waited patiently for Lois's answer. He found the whole process almost amusing.
She should have known step two was way too easy. Even though it was painfully disgusting to think about, she had to try step three, her last resort.
Clark was slightly attracted to her. She knew it. He didn't know she knew.
She could exploit her feminine charms. If he wouldn't give in to rational Lois, he would have to surrender to sexy Lois. It was nature's way.
"Come on! Please? Pretty please?" She took a step closer and put a hand on his chest. "You know you do these sappy mood pieces so much better than I do. I can't even do them justice." She smiled, and laid on the sap. “Not like you can.”
Clark's pulse quickened when he felt the soft pressure of her hand on his chest. Oh, the torture. Lois Lane was an evil genius!
He took a step back and said, "Mood pieces? A story about the weekly malathion spraying to stop fruit fly infestation is a mood piece?"
"See, you even know the pesticide's name." She took a step closer again and softly covered his hand with her own. "You'd be perfect."
"Lois! It isn't a mood piece."
Well, okay, then it's a boring, useless piece." She sighed in frustration. That didn't help her cause at all! She needed to keep her temper in check if she was supposed to entice Clark to take this story, not repel him away forever.
"Oh, so it's a bad mood piece?" He smirked at her, knowing he had made a bad joke, but wanting to hear her response.
It wasn't a useless piece; it just wasn’t the kind of piece Lois often did. Perry must have had a reason for assigning it to Lois. Right now, Clark sure wasn't going to bail her out. So what if he thought the piece had some potential. After what Lois had told Perry . . .
What right did she have to waltz into their editor's office and demand to be put on a different story . . . Clark's story? How dare she say that he needed her help because he couldn't handle an in depth story on his own!
Of course he could handle this, and any other story Perry assigned him.
And he was going to prove it.
"Ha. Ha." She glared at him menacingly.
"Hey, I thought it was funny."
"You're lucky I didn't throw this coffee on you."
"Go right ahead," he said softly, anger getting the better of him. He regretted his words almost as soon as they left his mouth. He had just bought this nice, crisp white shirt. It definitely didn't need a coffee stain! Though, it would keep the drycleaners happy.
She was tempted to throw the coffee in his face, but decided to try a different tactic.
Instantly, she was hit by another stroke of genius. It wasn't her usual approach, but in this case, it might work! Flattery. "No, I'm not going to do it," she said sincerely. And maybe he bought her sincerity. "Clark, seriously, you have a talent I really envy." Yeah, butter him up! "You can make the mundane interesting." She paused momentarily, then looked up into his eyes and said, "Partner."
"Lois, did you hear me before? I am not switching stories with you." Maybe if he hadn't known her true motives, he might have fallen for her devious tactics.
What was his problem? He was worse than Perry! He didn't listen to reason! "But the dockworker strike is so much more interesting. I mean fruit flies? Come on!" Begging. Stooping to begging? What was she? Desperate. That's what she was.
She took a stop closer to him and brushed a hand over his arm. At this point, it was a battle of wills. She wouldn't stop until she got him to crack! It was her mission.
"How many times do I have to tell you 'no'?" He was immune to her charms. The feel of her beautiful hand touching his arm . . . no! He couldn't succumb to her devious tactics.
"Come on, Clark. Switch with me. You know this is my specialty."
"Dockworkers' strikes are your specialty?"
"You know what I mean. Hard investigations are my specialty."
He decided to give her a little credit. She was right. Lois Lane was the best reporter in the city when it came to hard investigations and big stories. She didn't deserve to be on a story about flies. Then again, the strike was his story! She had no right to try to get in on it so underhandedly! "I know, Lois, but this is my story."
Pouting, she added, "Please. Perry kind of suggested . . ."
"Perry couldn't have told you to switch with me."
"Okay, he didn't exactly tell me to switch with you."
Clark raised his eyebrows, and sighed. "He must have assigned us these stories for a reason."
"Well what does he know?" she muttered under her breath. It was pretty obvious that no one knew what they were doing any more. They whole paper had gone to hell in a hand basket, and no one seemed to notice but her. She was the only sane one in the asylum!
"More than you know, Lois," her editor's loud booming voice echoed through the newsroom.
How had he heard her? He didn't have Superhearing!
"Aren't you late for that interview with the Pest Control Division?"
Lois sighed audibly. She wasn't going to get out of this. Clark had really screwed her over this time. How could both Perry and Clark expect her to write such a mundane story?
Clark checked his watch and realized that he was running late, too. He couldn't help but gloat. "Have fun, Lois."
He had won!
For the first time in the entire time he had known Lois, he had won!
Lois stomped back to her desk and flopped down onto her chair in a huff. Maybe she could follow Clark to the arbitration hearings and show him how much he needed her help.
"Lois, get a move on! I need your story for tomorrow morning's edition!"
Or maybe not. Her master plan was foiled, yet again, by none other than Perry White.
Drat all the stupid fruit flies!
"I hope they all die," she muttered under her breath.
"What was that, Lois?" Clark said teasingly.
"Argh!" Lois exclaimed as she made her way out of the newsroom in a huff.
If she had to do this stupid article, she had better suck it up and do it well. She was going to make *sure* hers ended up on the front page while Clark's was next to the obituaries!
Now, how in the world could she find something interesting, groundbreaking about a stupid little bug?
Well, she was Lois Lane and she could do anything. The answer would come to her eventually.
She stormed into the elevator and the doors closed, leaving the newsroom in her wake.
**********
"And that's all I remember," Lois said. It was as if the elevator doors had closed on her every memory. There had to be more to the day, though. Time couldn’t have magically skipped from one morning to the next.
"That’s all you remember?" Clark took a deep breath before he continued, "You don't remember anything that happened after that? Lois, you didn’t come here until after seven pm."
She squeezed her eyes shut again, hoping and praying that she would instantly recall anything that had happened after she had boarded the elevator. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . . The doors closed. And then it’s blank.”
“Lois, you don’t remember anything after you got on the elevator?”
To Be Continued
