This is a sequel to Lois Lane's Diary, which can be found at: http://lcfanfic.com/stories/2004/lldiary.txt


Dear Diary,


Lucy asked me today if I'd written in my journal recently, and I realized I hadn't!! I was so good about writing back when my life was a complete mess and right up to when it became perfect!! But then that was it!! Considering how much writing helped me, how much this DIARY (let’s just be honest, shall we?) helped me, I owe it more than just leaving it hanging. I'll bet it's wondering where I have been for the past seven weeks!

Well...

It's been seven glorious weeks!! Clark and I are now, as one might call this, an official 'item'. It's been absolutely wonderful!

We spend our days working, chasing stories together, working late together, going to either his place or mine for dinner (also together). We kiss in the elevator, we kiss in the car on stakeouts (we do do work, not to worry... we keep the kissing short... well, we try to), we kiss at our apartments and at the door to my apartment when he "sees me home". If I didn't make this clear before, Clark Kent is an amazing kisser. This should not be too shocking; the man is amazing all-around anyway. He is an amazing person; no one like HIM exists in this world, I am sure of that. He's just... good... inside. He has a good heart and spirit. He is amazing-looking, and I am pretty sure that for the first two years of our partnership and friendship, I had blinders on. I always knew he was good-looking, of course. It's undeniable. To anyone that would see him, even if they didn't KNOW him (which adds a great deal to the attraction, knowing him) they would see a handsome and sexy man, with a mild manner and a quiet appeal. That's all very obvious. I always knew I was attracted to him.

But I never saw then that he really was the sexiest man I had ever met. The most handsome. The most amazing looking. That combination would be extremely dangerous in the hands of, oh I don't know, Claude or Lex. But with Clark... It's like he doesn't even know. His unawareness of the very fact that he is drop dead gorgeous may actually be his most priceless, endearing and sexy quality.

And when he's not wearing a shirt... not that I've seen this all too many times... I mean there was that time when we first met and he answered the door in a towel. More recently, there was the one time I snuck into his apartment to make him dinner (I know, I know, love has started to affect my sense of reality) and happened to see him after a shower with just his sweatpants on. It makes me blush, just thinking about it! And the time a couple of weeks ago where we did a story at the local YMCA and had to pretend to just be normal people going swimming... I mean, if I were him, I'd be going shirtless to work, he's just so... What was I saying? Sorry... I am sort of going off on a tangent here.

But Clark...

This has been the most amazing seven weeks of my life. I cherish every day we have together. With him, I'm not afraid. I am not afraid of trusting him or sharing things with him or opening my heart to him. I let him in because he's Clark. He's my best friend and he's honest and good and I just know he wouldn't hurt me. It's sort of scary trusting someone this much. But the funny thing is, it is not scary at all!

Look at this email he sent me Friday afternoon at work!! I will paste it here!

- - - - - -

TO: Lane, Lois < llane@dailyplanet.com >
FROM: Kent, Clark < ckent@dailyplanet.com >
RECEIVED: Friday, May 10, 2:09 PM

I forgot to tell you at lunch (seeing as how when I'm around you, I can't stop looking at you and lose all train of thought) that this morning I did all the paperwork for the Miston case. I wanted to save you the trouble. Why, you ask? Because I love you. More than anything.

Love,

Clark

- - - - - -

See how adorable that was? He has the ingenious ability to mix work-related matters with lovey-dovey-ness and get away with it!

I cannot pull this off. My emails to him are either work-related—Exhibit A:

- - - - - -

TO: Kent, Clark < ckent@dailyplanet.com >
FROM: Lane, Lois < llane@dailyplanet.com >
SENT: Thursday, May 9, 9:07 AM

The workday technically starts at 9 AM, Clark! Where are you? I've been here since 8:30! I know we aren't exactly in the middle of a story here, but when one comes our way and you're running around returning your library books, I am NOT sharing the byline!

Lois

- - - - - -

(No one said they were nice emails)

Or relationship-oriented—Exhibit B:

- - - - - -

TO: Kent, Clark < ckent@dailyplanet.com >
FROM: Lane, Lois < llane@dailyplanet.com >
SENT: Monday, May 6, 6:01 PM

I know you are just sitting ten feet away from me, but I have to tell you. You look good! I am actually not getting much work done. You just... you look good, Kent! I'm starving. Let's have dinner together. My place or yours?

Love,

Lois

- - - - - -

I can't combine the two types of emails the way he can. He's just talented that way. And that second email? Yeah, I wasn't really starving (I mean I was a little hungry, but my stomach hadn't started growling or anything yet). I just wanted to... well... to hang out with him. To talk to him. Okay, okay! I wanted to kiss him! Make out with him! Is that such a crime, he IS my boyfriend!

Hm, last time I wrote in this, was I this aggressive? I really do take this diary thing to the next level.

Maybe I need more friends.

I'll write more soon! Life is WONDERFUL! (Wonderful like that time I was affected by that pheromone. But this time... It's natural and real and I am actually just in LOVE!)


Dear Diary,


It's Wednesday and I am freaking out. When I last wrote, it was Sunday. Sundays are pretty good days for me. Well, I mean, it was a Sunday when Clark came back from that "vacation" almost two months ago and we got the truth out in the open and actually started our relationship. So, Sunday was a good day for me that time. And since then, my Sundays have been spent with Clark, and we always have fun, so Sundays have been pretty good lately... What am I saying? Clark is right, I really can ramble and babble
about any topic under the sun! And apparently not just when I'm talking!

So today is Wednesday. Not Sunday. Moving on.

Even though I am blissfully happy lately, Wednesdays are still, well, Wednesdays. The middle of the week. The weekend's a few days off. The workload is at its peak. And when there's not a juicy story to write, when I say the workload is at its peak, I mean there is a LOT of paperwork and even filing to do. FILING! And if you have someone else do the filing, who knows where it'll end up, and then when someone is trying to sue you for something, you won't know where to look to get your backup. So Wednesdays... I don't love them all that much. When I get bad news or something, it's usually on a Wednesday. When Clark and I had that explosive talk in the conference room? Yeah, a Wednesday. If it's not clear where I am going with this little spiel about this particular day in the calendar week, I will just illustrate my point with an excerpt from my day.

I was just sitting at my desk, writing up a little story Perry put me on for the day. He needs to stick us to SOMETHING while the news is slow. He has a gut feeling that very soon a big story will break out. He says when it rains, it pours, and since news has been SO quiet for SO long, we are due for a torrential downpour really soon. So, anyway, I’m writing this thing he has me on for today. A fluff piece. I hate those. When I noticed Clark sauntering over to my desk, I welcomed the distraction.

"Hey, partner," he said sweetly, smiling.

Have I mentioned he has a killer smile?

"Make it quick, Kent, I'm on a deadline here," I said, looking back at my computer screen with a studious expression on my face.

I like to play hard to get with Clark. I used to pick little silly fights with him before we got together, which I eventually realized was my way of flirting with him. Now, I give him a hard time, which is my way of playing hard to get. Wait a second... if he's already got me, then what is it I'm doing? I guess I'm just giving the guy a hard time for the heck of it. Poor Clark. Anyway...

"Please, Lois. You are writing a story about the school system on the south side of Metropolis. I saw your little sigh of relief when I walked over here," he said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against my desk. I love when he stands like this. It's very sexy, but it does make concentrating on work a little difficult. And it makes me want to jump out of my desk chair and fling my arms around him. When he stands around with his hands in his pocket, I also feel this way. Hm...

"Okay, you got me, I would pay attention to Ralph right about now." At his expression, I added, "but I'd much rather pay attention to you. So what's up?"

He smiled appreciatively and playfully. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about this weekend."

"This weekend?"

"Yeah," he said.

I noticed he seemed a little nervous.

"What's this weekend?" I asked. I honestly had no idea.

"Well, for one thing, it's our two month anniversary..."

There, right there! I thought, "shoot me please, now!"

I luckily received a phone call right then and he had to go back to his desk.

"He did NOT say two month anniversary, did he?" I thought frantically.

If you, Diary (since I apparently am going crazy and am talking to you like you are a person... I do need more friends), think I am freaking out or clearly have commitment issues, let me explain a little something about two month marks and my life.

When I knew Paul (college Paul that Linda (my then-so-called best friend) stole) for two months, I worked up the courage to ask him out. He said no and proceeded to do jumping jacks on my heart, while doing, um, other stuff with Linda.

When I knew Claude for two months we... well... we slept together. And then he left me. And he stole my story. Don't think that needs more elaboration.

When I dated Lex for two months exclusively... And this was pretty much two months to the DAY... he proposed. And I accepted. And that one went down in the books as a new-age Greek tragedy. Without the gouging out of the eyes, of course... although had that incident actually turned out differently...

Hm.

And here's a clinker... When I was two months old, I got a cold that apparently almost killed me. But I recovered.

Obviously...

About a year ago (post-wedding fiasco), when I was bored at work one day (on a Wednesday, actually) I made this little connection that I have so eloquently laid out here. I call it the Two-Month Syndrome. Clearly bad things, BIG things sometimes, happen to me at the two-month mark. And Clark, bringing up the weekend on a Wednesday (usually we just play the weekends by ear) means that he most likely wants to do something special or big. Something we have to plan for.

This could only mean one thing: disaster.

I love Clark. I don't want to lose him merely because I can't get over that two-month hump. I feel like I was caught unawares and so my balance has been thrown off, but really what happened was I just forgot! Everything has been going so nicely that I just forgot that it's been almost a full two months since we kissed in the park, starting THIS. This wonderful thing we have.

Why why WHY does it have to be the WEDNESDAY before my TWO MONTH anniversary?!?!

Do I seem volatile?... Or paranoid?

I'll write more later.


Dear Diary,


So Clark noticed that when he mentioned our two-month anniversary I went, apparently, pale. Ghost-white.

"I thought you were seeing Elvis in Perry's office or something," he said.

So I did not do the great job I thought I did between his uttering those three words and my phone ringing of hiding my complete anguish. He has no idea. He doesn't know how much I now dread two month marks. Why should he? I haven't shared the Two Month Syndrome with him (wow, that sounds like some kind of fatal illness, actually), so how would he know?

So after I got off the phone yesterday and wrote in this, he came over to my desk again, wanting to know if anything was wrong.

"Why would anything be wrong? What could possibly be wrong?" I asked, doe-eyed. Unfortunately, the innocent act doesn't usually work with Clark.

"Lo-is. Just tell me. I mentioned the weekend and you looked like I'd just asked you if you’d be willing to donate an organ to my neighbor’s cat."

Then he mentioned that thing about Elvis, which made me laugh.

"Clark, it's nothing, really. I... I..."

He looked at me expectantly, but patiently.

I took a deep breath. This was Clark. Not Paul. Not Claude. Not Lex. Why should I worry about a measly little Two Month Syndrome that probably only really exists in my head (although I DO have the evidence to back it up)?

"I'm sorry. I had just remembered I'd forgotten to do something. That's why I looked... You know..."

"You sure? I mean… you’re okay?"

"Yeah. Anyway, what were you going to say?"

There, again, he looked nervous.

"Um... just that I thought, maybe we could... maybe..."

"Clark, just say it," I said, smiling. It was so adorable when he got this way. All embarrassed and whatnot.

"Maybe we could do something."

"Don't we do something every weekend?" I asked innocently. This time, because he was already nervous, he bought my innocent act. I am awful! I won't stop until I thoroughly make him squirm and turn all red!

"I mean something... special."

"Oh," I said, like I was considering this.

"It's just... I have something I want to talk to you about, Lois, and I thought maybe we could go to dinner and then to this beautiful, quiet place that I found when I first moved here. It's just outside the city. Maybe we could go there after dinner..."

I didn't answer immediately as my ears were ringing with what he'd just said...

He needed to TALK TO ME about something. I must have looked awful because the look on his face was one of total apprehension and almost fear, I'd say. I put my worries aside to placate his.

"Clark," I said taking his hand in mine. It felt so warm and soft and large and strong... Wow, it is so EASY to sidetrack! "Clark," I said, "that sounds wonderful. I can't wait."

I smiled and then he smiled.

Sometimes sacrifice is a beautiful thing. I mean, by pushing my worries aside to deal with later, I was rewarded by a look of relief from him and then a smile. When Clark smiles, the world is right. My world is, anyway. There are no problems, there are no worries. Just me and this man. Clark.

My Clark.


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