Okay, so we got bored again on IRC and this is the result. All complaint - um, feedback welcome! goofy

A Close Shave

by CrazyWritersRUs - SaraK, JulieS, Meerkat and Wendymr


"Clark?"

"Hmm?"

He shifted and turned to look at Lois, who was coming back from the bathroom.

"Why don't you have any shaving things in your bathroom closet?"

"Huh?"

Uh...

He froze for a second.

Then, attack being the best form of defence, he retorted, "Why were you looking in my bathroom closet, Lois?"

She shrugged. "I'm a reporter. It's what I do."

"What? Snoop?"

She rolled her eyes. "Investigate. Collect evidence. Establish the facts."

"In my bathroom?"

"Why not? Anyway, answer the question, Kent!"

Stall. Stall. "Uh... what question was that again?"

The expression on her face could have fried villains at fifty paces. Lois did not like having to repeat herself. "Why don't you have any shaving stuff in your bathroom? You shave daily, from what I can see. So where is it?"

"My shaving stuff?"

"No, your shoe-polish! OF COURSE your shaving stuff, Clark! Where is it?"

She began to pace. "I mean, you're not one of those weirdos who hides stuff in the oven, right? No, you actually use your oven for cooking. So it wouldn't be there. Where is it?"

"Well, see, Lois, I got rid of it... because... I have this habit of replacing all my shaving stuff every month on this day."

That was lame. He knew that was so lame. But she seemed to buy it for a minute.

Then she narrowed her eyes. "So where is your new shaving stuff?"

"My-- my new shaving stuff?"

"Well, yeah. It's one past midnight. You weren't going to just pop out for a few minutes in the middle of the night to do that, were you? The stores are closed, anyway. And you need to shave in the morning."

He looked back at the file he was scanning, hoping she would do the same. He prayed for the capacity to speak as casually as possible. "Actually, Lois, I was planning to go out early in the morning."

She paused. Then she spoke again, and he wished he were dead. "Just in time to pick up your Cheese of the Month delivery and kill two birds with one stone, huh?"

He seized the opportunity she’d inadvertently given him with both hands. "Oh, no!"

Lois gave him an exasperated look. "What?"

"I left my Cheese of the Month shipment in the mailbox! Thanks for reminding me, Lois!"

Once Clark was safely outside, having left an astonished and quite livid Lois in his living room, he tried breathing normally.

It didn't work.

Oh, God. What had he just done?! Fight or flight, and he'd chosen flight. Like a coward.

He thought briefly of zipping to France for some exotic cheese or another, but then he'd have to get packaging and make a label and...

He was dead.

Well and truly dead. A goner.

********

Lois seethed as the door slammed behind Clark. That liar! She didn't know what he was hiding, but he sure as heck wasn't doing a good job of it.

Fine! If he was leaving, she was going to snoop. She'd find out whatever he wasn't telling her. She wasn't galactically stupid!

His bedroom. That would be the best place to dig up the dirt on him.

Lois rifled through his dresser drawers one by one. Briefs. Hmm, interesting. She'd have figured Clark a boxers man. Other than his underwear preference, the search through his drawers proved to be futile.

Under the bed! That was where she hid her romance novels. There had to be something under there.

Nope. Not even a dust bunny. Honestly! Who actually vacuumed all the way under their bed?

Lois's eyes wandered over to Clark's closet. Bingo. If there wasn't anything there... Well, she'd have to conclude that Clark was just insane. A pathological liar... Who shaved how, Lois? With a kitchen knife?

Right. The closet.

Lois marched over to the door and yanked it open. Clothes. Suits, shirts, pants, shoes lined up on the floor. No shoeboxes hiding dirty secrets within. Was he really this secretive? Or maybe she had to rethink her all too obvious hiding spots.

She moved closer. Row upon row of neatly-pressed shirts. Suits in dry-cleaners' protective covering - proof, she guessed, that he did in fact go to the dry-cleaners when he said he did. Ties hung in orderly fashion on - of all things - a tie rack.

God, how compulsive was Clark!

Who on earth had time to iron everything they owned?

She was lucky if she had one item ironed and ready to go in the mornings. Usually she had to set her alarm ten minutes early so she had time to press that day's outfit.

Could anyone possibly be as perfect as Clark Kent seemed to be?

Just what was she looking for here, anyway?

Guilt assailed her suddenly and she took a step backwards. She was searching through her best friend's closet! Rooting through his private things!

If anyone - even Clark - dared do that to her, she'd rip him limb from limb!

And anyway, Clark could be back any second now.

She reached for the closet door. Close it. Get out of his bedroom. Go back to the living-room and wait for him.

I have this habit of replacing all my shaving stuff every month...

LIAR!

No. She was darned well GOING to search his stuff! She had to find out why he was lying to her.

But where the heck was he hiding stuff? If there was stuff to find...

There had to be. Who didn't have self-incriminating evidence stashed somewhere in their home?

Think, Lane, think! If you had a deep, dark secret that you didn't want anyone to find out about (even though you were horrible about lying to cover it up), where would you hide it?

A secret compartment!

Like the one in which her Kerths were hidden.

But Clark didn't have a display case in his apartment. The closed closet door stared her in the face. Her breath caught and her heart started racing. That was it! It was in the closet.

She opened the door again and shoved the clothing aside on the rack, heedless of the meticulous spacing of the hangers.

Nothing visible. But that was why they were called secret compartments. She ran one hand along the wood panelling, keeping the pants and shirts out of her way with the other. Her hand brushed across a small bump and something clicked.

A click. It was a click! Her heart nearly stopped.

That meant something unclicked. That meant there was something to unclick. Which could be a secret compartment.

Not caring about keeping her partner’s closet in order anymore, nor about the efforts he must have put into keeping it in such spotless fashion, she threw the shirts that were in her way aside. She pushed on the wooden back wall of the closet gently. It was evidently thin and hollow.

She tugged it aside. It was sliding! There was a secret compartment behind Clark's closet!

And... It was too dark to see at first, but as the door slid further she started recognising what was in that compartment.

No... what the heck?

She turned around. Looked at Clark's bedroom. Normal bed, normal dresser and bedside lamp. Looked back in.

It was still there.

Clark Kent was a dead man.

Forget Kryptonite. The wrath of Lois Lane was far more powerful than any piece of a dead planet.

Clark Kent hadn't any remote hope of seeing daylight tomorrow.

She looked at the suits hanging inside the closet - deep inside the closet. Blue and red shone at her. Blue and red everywhere she looked. Now that she thought about it, how could he bear to wear those spandex bright colours every day?

Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe he was just keeping Superman's suits there for him. Safekeeping. That would make sense. It was accessible for Superman, and located at a fairly central point of the city.

No. No it wouldn't make sense. It wouldn't make sense because Clark Kent was a pathological liar, who rescued people instead of picking up cheese deliveries, and shaved... God only knew how, but not with human razors, and... and was either on the run from her now, or rescuing someone.

She voted the first.

She shut the secret compartment and threw the shirts she’d swept aside earlier back in.

She'd fold them up again later.

Or not.

Served him right.

She left the bedroom and went back into the bathroom. There had to be something he used for shaving. She didn't suppose he used Kryptonite tweezers. Or a Kryptonite razor, even, which would make more sense. She backed out of the bathroom a second later. She had no patience for that.

She would just have to ask him right before killing him. He'd tell her. People tended to surrender easily when on their deathbed.

She heard the front door open and close softly.


**********

Clark had been pacing in the alley outside his apartment for several minutes when the flaw in his thinking occurred to him. Or, more precisely, in his lack of thinking.

While he was skulking around out here, avoiding Lois... Lois was in his apartment, up to god knew what.

She'd already been snooping in his bathroom - the very reason he'd escaped in the first place. And who knew what she'd be doing now? Which of his personal belongings she was searching through?

Had he really left her alone in his apartment, free to do anything she wanted?

God, she could have found anything. The photo of the two of them together that he had next to his bed. A note she'd written to him long ago and which he kept in his nightstand. The rose she'd given Superman, just because - that was pressed and between the pages of a favourite book.

She could have found anything.

Instinct screamed at him to take off and fly. Destination Australia. Antarctica. Argentina.

He climbed the steps. Got to the door. Slowly, nervously, pushed it open.

She wasn't in the living-room. So, unless she'd sneaked out and gone home while he wasn't looking, she was somewhere else. Like his bathroom. Or his bedroom.

He closed the door and took a deep breath.

One hand half-heartedly made its way to his glasses as he contemplated pulling them down to see what Lois was up to.

And then he halted as she strode out of his bedroom, a thunderous expression on her face.

"So you decided to come back, Superman!"

He gulped. Swallowed. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. And he wished he'd followed that instinct. He could've been half-way to Sydney by now.

“S...Superman?”

It was a pathetic attempt, and he knew it. She wasn't going to buy his innocent act for one moment. The expression on her face told him loud and clear that she knew exactly what he'd been hiding. The time for excuses had run out.

Superman! Superman, help!

Clark winced. Of all the times to get a cry for help. He tried to ignore it, but he could hear the sounds of roaring flames and screams, so loudly that it was as if they were in the same room.

"Clark..." Lois said, a warning tone in her voice.

"Look, I'm sorry, Lois, but I have to go."

"Cheese of the--"

"No, really, I have to go. We'll talk when I get back, okay?"

And before she could take a breath to start yelling, he'd spun into his costume and flown out the door.

He could hear her calling after him as he soared into the sky, but his mind was on the tenement fire now, and Lois had to take a back seat. Not that she ever did so willingly. At least she'd have time to cool off. Tomorrow when he saw her at the Planet, she was sure to be ready to discuss things in a calm and rational manner.

He could dream.


**********

Lois was not happy.

In fact, she was several miles beyond not happy.

And she was not budging from his couch until he returned and gave her a long, satisfying explanation.

This would be the stakeout of a lifetime.

Lois sat and fumed for a good five minutes before it hit her.

Clark had gone to save someone. Superman had gone to save someone. A rescue.

Clark Kent, her partner. Her best friend. The man she...

Clark Kent was Superman.

Superman was Clark Kent.

The pieces began to fall together one by one. Never in the same place at the same time. Similar build. Clark being able to get hold of Superman at the drop of a hat. Clark rushing off at any sign of trouble...

Lying about it.

For nearly two years.

Suddenly, Lois felt far more hurt than angry.

She'd trusted Clark. With everything. And Superman too. She'd...

She'd loved them both. And agonised over the fact that she could love two men at the same time, thinking herself fickle and foolish. But, all along, it'd just been one man.

Clark "Superman" Kent.

One man whom she was free to love without guilt.

One man, who'd lied to her.

One man who didn't trust her.

He didn't trust her and, the more she dwelled on it, the more it hurt. Even more than the lying. He’d lied to her because he didn't trust her.

Evidently he didn't feel as close to her as she was to him. She thought she'd known him. Thought they'd truly been best friends... she's told him so many private things, so many secrets. And he didn't trust her back. He didn't want to confide in her. He didn't let her get to know the real him.

"I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry," she chanted to herself out loud. "I am going to kill him instead."

She didn't know how long that rescue, whatever he'd gone to do, would take, but she wasn't budging, and he had better not be expecting to get any sleep. Because the only sleep he was going to be getting would be the eternal one.

She looked around. The apartment suddenly looked so hostile. The little knick-knacks and pictures and... whatever that brown thing in the corner was, that had made it look so homey and cosy, now looked pretentious and fake.

He was deceiving everyone.


*********

A couple of hours later, exhausted, grimy and reeking of smoke, Clark landed on his balcony and padded into the bedroom.

And then remembered what had happened just before he left.

Lois.

Lois had found out his secret. And he'd had to fly off to the fire before he'd had a chance to impress on her how important it was to keep it secret.

God. She was going to be furious.

Because he'd lied to her. Because he'd deceived her. Because he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her everything.

And, most of all, because she, award-winning journalist extraordinaire, had worked beside him for almost a year and a half without ever guessing.

Oh yeah, she'd be furious. He could imagine it now... Lois ranting and raving about him playing her for a fool. Laughing at her behind his back.

If only she knew...

Well, he'd better face the music. Assuming, of course, that she was still there...

About to spin back into his Clark clothes, he hesitated. Right now, he wasn't above using every single advantage he could get. And he knew that the sight of him in his Spandex tended to have a slight intimidating effect on her.

He took a deep breath and then headed for the living-room. It was in darkness. No lights were on. Had she left?

Oh, heck... he'd have to fly over to her place...

No, he could hear breathing. Lois's breathing. But it was very slow and steady...

And then he found her. Fast asleep on the sofa. He grimaced. It was hardly surprising. It was almost four, after all.

Briefly, he debated the idea of flying her home. But then he rejected the thought. He'd only wake her, and anyway, he really needed to talk to her about this. Better that she still be here in the morning.

Gently, making sure to move her as little as possible, he scooped her up and floated with her into the bedroom. Laid her on his bed and covered her with a blanket. Then headed to the bathroom to shower off the remains of his battle with the fire.

Clark could have taken his shower at super-speed, but sometimes after a rescue it was a relief to take a long, hot shower and let himself unwind. It was often the only way he could make himself fall asleep afterwards.

He had just finished scrubbing off the last of the grime and had closed his eyes to enjoy the feel of the water pounding into his back when the shower curtain was flung open.

"Lois!" he screamed, grabbing blindly for a towel.

She thrust one into his face. "Here. Don't tell me you thought you were getting away that easily, Kent!"

He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist, giving Lois a dark look. She ignored it and put her hands on her hips.

"Easy? Definitely not," he muttered. "All right, I guess I was done in the shower anyway."

She suddenly seemed to realize exactly what she had done. She looked up and down his partially-clothed body and turned bright red. She made an about-face and walked out of the bathroom.

Clark was tempted to close the door, locking it this time, and head for the hills. But it would only be postponing the inevitable. He sighed and followed her into the living room.

She was sitting on the couch, still slightly pink in the face. He went to sit down next to her, but she burst out, "What do you think you're doing?"

He paused in the act of sitting. "What?"

"For heaven's sake, put some clothes on!"

Oh. Somehow he'd thought they were dispensing with the formalities, but... he headed back to the bedroom.

So, now, the choice. A fresh Superman costume, to see if Spandex could help the situation any (surely it couldn't make things any worse?), or regular clothes.

Clark spun quickly into a fresh super suit and head out to face the rabid Mad Dog Lane.

"Clark!!"

He froze and stopped breathing, causing his attempt at a nonchalant "What?" to be more of a squeak.

"I said clothes, Clark! Clothes! That..." She threw a wild arm out to emphasise her point. "That does not qualify!"

He wondered a moment at her outrage... The Suit really did set her on edge. Almost even playing ground...

Should he...

One look at her face told him it was a bad idea. Lois Lane didn't play - or fight, rather - on an even playing field. He was pretty sure that was number one in the rule book.

Biting back a sigh, he spun into jeans and a T-shirt, hoping they qualified as appropriate attire. "Better?" he asked, wishing his voice hadn't sounded weak and subservient. He was Superman, for Pete's sake!

She gave him a curt "Yes", glared at him and then ordered, "Sit!"

He sat. On the armchair. As far away from her as he could manage. He wondered if she'd notice if he moved the chair back a few feet at superspeed but, seeing as her furious eyes hadn't left his person since he'd re-entered the room, he decided against it.

"I suppose you want an explanation," he said, resignation in his voice.

She snorted. "Yeah, that would be a place to start."

She wasn't going to cut him any slack, he could see that.

"Well, I don't know what there is to explain... I'm Superman, I'm also Clark. That's a secret I keep from the world" - he made sure to emphasise how important it was that it remain that way - "and I didn't tell you, and now you're mad."

She frowned, and for a moment he thought she was going to sink her teeth into him. "The question is why didn't you tell me?" she asked, raising her voice so high he was sure at least some of his neighbours were now awake.

He looked away from her. "I was going to, eventually."

"Eventually? Care to give me a timeframe?"

"1994, to maybe 2015."

He could hear her grit her teeth. "Clark, this is no time for jokes. Be serious! When were you going to tell me?"

He looked at her face again. Her eyes were practically red from anger. He flinched. "Oh, Lois, I'm sorry."

"Stop stalling, Clark!"

"Lois, I swear I was going to tell you. Soon. I hoped... I was going to tell you everything when what I've been waiting for happened."

She frowned again, this time in confusion. "This isn't the time to get philosophical, either!"

After a slight pause, she added, "So what were you waiting for, then?"

"For... for something that Superman had and I didn't," he said quietly, still looking at her face.

She stood up. "I'm going to leave, Clark, if you don't stop talking in riddles, and will come back with Kryptonite."

He sighed. "Stop, Lois. You want to know what that thing was?"

He stood up and approached her. "This. This is what it was."


*********

What the heck was he...?

Warm lips covered hers. For an instant, she froze.

Then, as realisation dawned, she began to push at his chest. Ineffectually. In fact, her hands began to uncurl and press themselves flat against his chest. Completely disobeying instructions, her lips softened under his and began to kiss him back.

Kissing Clark... no, kissing Superman.

Superman! Clark was Superman.

Clark was a liar.

She pulled back and away from him. And one hand formed itself into a fist and thumped his chest. Hard.

Clark jerked back. "Lois!" he exclaimed.

She was looking at him in horror. "Oh, Clark, I'm sorry, I can't believe I did that. Are you okay?"

Then her face darkened. "Of course you're okay. You're Superman. I can't believe you tried to, what, kiss me and make me forget everything?"

"I wasn't trying to make you forget, I was trying to explain."

"Well, you're doing a lousy job of it, Kent."

"Superman had your love, Lois," he said softly. "And that was the thing I wanted most in the world. I didn't see how I could tell you that I was Superman when you were in love with him and not with me."

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stared at him. Opened her mouth again. Tried to say something, but again no words came.

What could she possibly say? What did you say to something like that?

That he was crazy? That he was wrong?

But... he wasn’t wrong.

She did love Superman. Had loved Superman from the moment she’d seen him.

And Clark...? Well, she liked Clark.

More than liked him. Had even... well, hadn’t she been wondering earlier if maybe, just maybe, she liked him a lot? Perhaps even lo-

No! That was before he’d lied to her. Made her think that he was two people. Confused her. Made a fool of her.

How could she possibly love a man like that?

A man who was staring at her, hurt and humiliation in his expression. A man who was beginning to turn away. Who was muttering, “Why the hell did I say that? Why did I ever think you’d listen?”

A man who was her best friend - and whom, amazingly, she’d hurt.

She took a step towards him and reached for him. Caught his arm. Tugged and, to her surprise and relief, the immovable object that was Superman came back to her.

The look of complete anguish in his eyes stilled her and her breath caught in her chest. Why was it so easy for her to empathise, *feel* his pain after all the hurt he'd caused her? After the lies and the mistrust? How could one look from him make everything else seem irrelevant?

She'd been silent too long, just staring at the man she now knew for certain she loved. He shifted his gaze away from her to the place where her hand rested on his arm. Did he feel it too? The warmth that was there? The tingle that by all rights shouldn't really exist? That was the stuff of romance novels and movies. This was real life.

That just didn't happen in real life. It didn't!

And it sure as heck didn't happen to Lois Lane.

She swallowed roughly and opened her mouth, but she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say, so she shut it again. She felt Clark shifting, ever so slightly away from her. In a second, he'd be out of reach. Heck, he could fly across the world and out of her life!

"I love you, Clark!"

Impulsive. Reckless. But she did love him, and he couldn't leave.

His head snapped up. For a moment, he looked almost happy, hopeful. She began to smile until she saw him scowl, and this time he did pull away from her.

"Yeah, I'll bet."

He'd put a good few feet between them, and it hurt. Against everything she knew was right in the world, Lois Lane had fallen in love. Real love this time. Only... she'd screwed it up. She wasn't sure how, but evidently she had.

His words echoed in her head as he continued staring at her, full of indignation. Yeah, I'll bet.

Anger flared in her. What was he playing at? First he kissed her and said he'd give anything to have her love him, then when she admitted it, he scoffed at her?!

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"It means, Lois, that of course you love me now that you know I'm Superman."

"Clark! I don't love you because you're Superman. I love you because you're you. Both of you. Don't you see that?"

He grunted. "Sure, Lois. You couldn't have said that before? Like, for example, yesterday?"

What the hell was he doing? Was he out of his mind? She stared at him, hurt. "Stop that! You're the one who's been lying to me all this time, and when finally I forgive you and tell you I love you, you're not happy?"

His expression became softer as he gazed at her. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Lois, but you have to see that I don't know what to think now. I think... I don't know what to think."

"You don't need to think! You think too much!"

Taking a deep breath, she went to him, tugged on his neck and brought his lips back onto hers. He didn't push her away, and didn't take too long to start cooperating.

Minutes later, he gently eased his mouth away from hers, sliding into a hug instead, and pulled her tightly into his arms. "Oh, Lois... Lois, I hope you realise just how much I love you."

"Do you believe me, Clark?" she whispered.

"Lois, I believe you. I don't think I can believe this is happening, but I believe you," he said, pulling back to look at her and then embracing her again.

She closed her eyes in relief. She hadn’t blown it after all.

Clark loved her. And he'd forgiven her.

And she'd forgiven him.

And anyway, a real, live, normal guy made for a much better boyfriend than someone who spent all his time in Spandex. It wasn’t as if Superman could exactly take her to the movies, or go bowling or to the Fudge Castle. He’d get mobbed!

She leaned into his embrace, willingly surrendering to his kiss. His extremely practised, very sexy kiss. She could get used to this!

Especially when it also came with a dash of floating... With a choke of laughter, she noticed that they were two feet off the ground.

“You okay, Lois?” Clark asked with a touch of anxiety, clearly seeing her expression.

She laughed. “I’m fine. I could get used to this. But, you know, Clark, I do have one question.”

“And what’s that?”

“Just how do you shave...?”


~ THE END ~

Just a fly-by! *waves*