Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Lonely This Christmas? Part 2/2

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From Part 1:


He has a family? What? Is he married or something? And he never told me?

“Superman...?”

He’s looking very guilty now. “I have to go, Lois. I’m sorry.”

He can’t leave!

“But... aren’t you going to tell me what you’re talking about? What family? Where?”

He takes a deep breath. “I have to go. But you’ll understand soon, I promise.”

And then he’s walking to the window and, before I can call him back, plead with him to tell me what’s going on, he’s gone.

The curtains flutter in his wake, and I’m alone.


*********

Now read on...


What a disaster.

My carefully-planned Christmas dinner-party for my two best friends, ruined.

Abandoned by Superman, who didn’t even have the decency to tell me why he was leaving. And Clark hasn’t even bothered to turn up.

I want to cry.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

It must be Clark. Part of me just wants to crawl into my bedroom and pretend I didn’t hear him, but then I know I want to see him. I need him to hug me and comfort me and tell me that I didn’t do anything wrong. That I didn’t scare Superman away by being too... I don’t know, intrusive or something.

I open the door. It is Clark, standing there in chinos and a soft black cotton shirt and looking positively yummy. He’s holding a brightly-wrapped package with a red bow on top. And he’s smiling as if he’s delighted to see me.

“Clark!” I grab his hand and tug him in. “At last!”

“I’m sorry I’m late, Lois,” he says immediately. “I really couldn’t help it.”

“Superman’s gone,” I tell him. “You just missed him.”

He just nods. That surprises me - why isn’t he asking why Superman left? But then I realise that he probably thinks he went to some emergency or other.

“So it’s just you and me, then,” he says. “I’m sorry - I know it’s not how you planned it.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. The main thing is, you’re here.” And that’s completely true.

He smiles then. “Merry Christmas, Lois.” And he inclines his head towards me. He’s aiming for my cheek, of course. I catch my breath and wonder if I dare... then I remind myself that it’s Christmas and that we’ve kissed before and...

Well, it is Christmas.

I hold my breath, turn my head and his lips meet mine.

For an instant, he hesitates, his mouth on mine, his hand lightly on my shoulder. And then, as I reach up to slid my arms around his neck, he sighs a little and parts his lips over mine. And we kiss.

Clark is a wonderful kisser. I’ve known that for a while. Being stupid and blind where he was concerned, though, I never did anything about it when it would’ve been easy. Which is why we’re where we are now. With me having rejected him for Lex Luthor - of all people! - and him having told me that he lied when he said he loved me.

But this is Christmas, a time for new beginnings, and I can always hope. And wish.

He ends the kiss at last, raising his head and giving me a questioning look, his head tilted to one side in enquiry.

I can feel myself blushing, but maybe he won’t notice. And I look upwards, pointing with one finger, just hoping that we are close enough to the mistletoe for it to be a good excuse.

Well, we’re not directly under it. But it’s no more than about a foot from where we’re standing.

He grins. “I see. But, you know, it counts as a real kiss if you’re not standing right under it...”

He’s teasing. I can see that he fully expects me to give him a thump for that. But this could be the opportunity I was looking for... And I lean up towards him again. “Sounds okay to me,” I whisper, and brush my lips over his.

“Me too,” he whispers back, and kisses me again.

This kiss is longer. Deeper. There’s heat and there’s intensity... and playfulness and teasing and the deep affection of friends who care for each other very much.

Who love each other.

I know Clark loves me. Even if he isn’t in love with me, he loves me as his best friend. And maybe that’s enough to start with. At least I’m pretty sure he’s not in love with Mayson Drake, so there’s got to be a chance.

This time, when he raises his head, his hand comes up to rest against my cheek. “Wow, Lois,” he murmurs. “That was... really something.”

“Yeah.” I grin at him. “You’re pretty good at this, Kent.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He studies me, his gaze warm and affectionate and with a question in his eyes. “So... what was that really about?”

I shrug, feeling embarrassed again. Does he need me to spell it out? I want our friendship to change. Surely that must be obvious. And he knows how hard this is for me. He knows how difficult I find it to trust men...

“I... can’t I kiss my best friend?”

“Of course you can!” he exclaims. “I just can’t help feeling that was more than a kiss between friends.”

“And if it was?” I ask him. “Would that be a problem?”

His eyes widen. “You need to ask? Lois, I would *love* that. You have to know that.”

I do?

“Really?”

He gazes down at me. His eyes are ablaze with something I’ve never seen in them before. Something I realise suddenly that he’s never let me see before.

And... suddenly I’m scared.

It’s not that I don’t want him to say that he loves me or anything like that. There’s nothing I’d like more. I think what scares me more is that he won’t say it.

So I take a couple of steps away from him, ducking my head. “Well, anyway... umm... can I get you a glass of wine or something?”

“Lois.” Something in his tone makes me turn back to him. “I’m still your best friend. Just because we might be... more... doesn’t change that.”

He’s right. And I smile at him. Because he’s still Clark and he’s still the one person in the world I feel most comfortable with.

“Anyway, yes, I’ll have a glass of wine,” he continues, in a completely normal voice. “But I want to give you this first.” And he holds out the package he still has in his hand.

I take it, excited to find out what he’s chosen for me. I rip off the paper, to reveal a jeweller’s box. Surprised, I look up at Clark, to find him watching me expectantly. So I open the lid... and see something I recognise.

It’s a gold brooch, all delicate Celtic curliques and scrollwork. I remember exactly when I first saw it. We were trying to track down where a particular custom-made ring had been manufactured, and this brooch was in one of the jewellers we visited. I’d loved it on sight, but knew I couldn’t justify the cost. Not when I was still making payments on the Jeep, and saving for a vacation, and my rent had just gone up...

I stare up at him. My eyes are alight, I know it. I’ve never been given such a beautiful gift - or one that means so much to me. “Clark! How did you know...?”

“I saw you looking at it.” He’s grinning, happy that he’s made me happy. “I could see how much you liked it. So it was the perfect present, I thought.”

“You couldn’t have chosen better.” I fling my arms around him and hug him. “I love it! And it’s really sweet of you. Thank you!”

I know I should protest that it’s too expensive and he shouldn’t have, but really he couldn’t have chosen anything I’d like more. And, if he feels about me the way I do about him, the cost doesn’t matter.

I take it out of the box, admiring it all over again, and pin it to my dress. It looks beautiful there - and I can see from Clark’s expression as he looks at it - at me - that he thinks so too.

Then I pull away from him, rushing over to the tree. I want him to have his gift too. So I hand him the parcel - less expertly-wrapped than his, but that doesn’t matter. He takes it and I can see the happiness in his face. Whatever it is, he’s going to tell me that he loves it and I couldn’t have got him anything he’d be more pleased with.

I only hope he means it as much as I meant it about his gift.

He’s more careful than I am about unwrapping - doesn’t tear the paper to shreds, but lifts it gently at the corners and joins. Which makes me impatient, because he takes longer than I do. Finally, though, he’s taking the paper off and revealing what’s underneath.

“Hey!” he exclaims. “Where did you find this?”

“Oh...” I shrug, trying to pretend that it was easy, no trouble at all, just a lucky discovery. “You know me. I know guys who know guys.”

Which is true, but it took me the best part of a week, hours spent on the phone and in emails, and lots of favours called in, as well as a chunk out of my savings, to find it and then get it in time for tonight.

“Yeah, well...” He’s smiling in amazement and happiness. “Do you know how much I love this book? And you got a signed first edition! In mint condition, too!”

That had been a real stroke of luck. And all the effort is so worth it - he’s really pleased. Of course I know that To Kill a Mockingbird is his favourite book. We’ve talked about it often enough - and watched the movie.

“I’m glad you like it,” I tell him.

“Of course I love it!” And suddenly he’s hugging me again, the way we’ve hugged so many times before, only this time I’m just so completely conscious of him, of being in his arms, of being close to him.

And then we’re staring at each other and my breath is catching and I can’t think of anything else other than kissing him.

And then I am, and he is, and nothing else matters other than the feel of his lips on mine and mine on his.


*********

Eventually, we move away just a little, neither of us seeming to want to stop touching. And I know now, without Clark having to say the words, that he loves me just as much as I love him. And I know that things will never be the same between us again.

And I couldn’t be happier about it.

He smiles then. “This really isn’t working out the way I’d planned.” He sounds rueful, but amused. Happy.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, it’s good, believe me!” And he grins. “But there was something else I wanted to give you before we got so carried away.”

“Something else?” I glance down at the brooch. “But you’ve already given me this!”

“This is different.” And he reaches into his trouser pocket and takes out a sheet of paper, handing it to me. I unfold it.

At the top, there’s a very well-drawn picture of Superman’s S-shield. And the paper reads:

This entitles Lois Lane to one Super flight of her choice, at a time of her choice, disasters and emergencies permitting, to be redeemed on presentation of this voucher.

It’s signed Superman.

And the whole document - gift certificate, whatever it is - is written in Clark’s handwriting.

I stare at him. “How did...? You wrote this! Did he ask you to write it for him?” Had Superman not been able to spare the time to do it himself?

Clark looks back at me, his expression almost anticipatory. He takes a deep breath suddenly and then reaches into another pocket. From that, he produces the figurine I gave Superman.

He has that, too? But how? Superman flew off just before Clark arrived. Unless they’d met outside and Superman asked Clark to look after it for him...

“Lois.” Clark’s voice had dropped an octave suddenly, and I realised that his tone and the way he was looking at me meant that he was trying to tell me something important. Something *very* important...

“I told you that you’d understand soon,” he murmurs.

And I just stare.

It can’t be. He can’t be.

No. Not Superm...

But he’d said he’s not alone. That he has a family. Friends. Somewhere to belong.

Clark has a family. He has lots of friends. And he definitely has somewhere he belongs. Smallville. The Planet. Metropolis.

He’s still watching me. “You do understand, don’t you?”

I’ve been motionless, almost rigid, staring at him. Suddenly, it’s as if his words free me, and I move towards him. Stretching up, I take off his glasses. And I see the eyes that looked down into mine so apologetically only half an hour earlier.

“It’s you,” I say, realising afterwards just how dumb that sounds.

He nods. He takes his glasses from me, folds them and puts them in his shirt pocket. It’s an unspoken message that he’s not disguising himself from me any more.

“But... why...?” God, I’m making an idiot of myself. I’m never this inarticulate. Lost for words? Not me! I’m always the one ready with the penetrating questions, the dagger-like riposte that ensures that no-one gets away from me with secrets intact.

Yet Clark’s had this secret from me for as long as I’ve known him. And he’s just given it up to me willingly.

And something else... That gift certificate in his own handwriting. He’d intended to tell me. This isn’t just spur of the moment.

He’s watching me, looking concerned. I wonder if he’s afraid that I’m going to faint from shock, or start yelling at him for deceiving me. “Why what, Lois? Why didn’t I tell you before? Or why now?”

“Let’s start with why now, shall we?” I say. Why he didn’t tell me before is likely to take up a lot more time.

“Because of what you did, Lois. Everything you said. When I was here earlier, as Superman... like I said, I realised that I was being such a hypocrite, letting you do all this nice stuff because you felt sorry for me being alone. I couldn’t let you go on thinking that. I couldn’t go on lying to you. I knew I had to tell you.”

I’m not sure how much sense that makes. “It never bothered you before. That I thought you were a different person, I mean.” And, as something else occurs to me, I add sharply, “It didn’t bother you that I thought you were dead!”

But the way his expression changes when I say that shows me that I’m completely wrong. “It bothered me, Lois. I hated doing that to you.”

Tentatively, as if he’s afraid that I’ll reject him, he raises his hand to my face, touching my cheek with his fingertips. I don’t move. “I’ve had to take drastic action before when I’ve been in danger of having my secret revealed. I’ve always just moved on. Started again somewhere else. This time... well, the only difference would’ve been that I’d have had to take a new name. A different identity. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to come back, as Clark - and you’re the reason why.” He pauses, studying me, then adds, “Because I love you. And because you missed me.”

I love him too.

I could be mad at him. For dying, and for so many other reasons. I might be mad at him yet. We’ve got the rest of our lives for me to yell at him, after all.

But I love him. And he’s just said he loves me. And he’s just told me something that I know is the biggest secret he possesses. The most dangerous secret he possesses. I’m not a fool. I know what it would cost him if that information got out. Him, and his parents. And he’s entrusted me with that, because he didn’t want to lie to me any more.

I have to tell him. “I love you, Clark.” As he begins to speak, I place a finger over his lips. “Don’t get complacent, Kent. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. And a lot of apologising and sucking up. Including letting me cash in on that gift certificate! But it’s Christmas and I love you, so I’m not going to make you start tonight.”

Suddenly, he smiles again. And it’s a smile I’ve seen on both pairs of lips - Clark’s and Superman’s. And I wonder how it is that I’ve never realised before.

“I love you, Lois Lane,” he says, and it sounds like a vow. “I love you, and I’ll never lie to you again.”

“Well, that’s a start.” I try to look chiding, but fail miserably. The look in his eyes, the way he sounds when he tells me he loves me, just can’t help but make me smile back. After all, I’ve just got everything I wanted for Christmas - and more than I ever thought possible.

Somewhere in the distance, a timer buzzes. The turkey’s almost ready and I need to put on the vegetables. Clark realises what it is too, and he touches my hand. “Come on. I’ll help you do whatever needs doing.”

We walk to the kitchen together. He gives me a sidelong glance as he starts work. “I hope you don’t mind that there’s just two of us for dinner, instead of three.”

Well, I already knew there’d only be two, because Superman left... But there are only two because he is Superman. There always were only going to be two.

And then I grin. I look up at him, standing next to me, the man I love, my boyfriend, my Super man. “That’s okay,” I tell him. “I think three would’ve been a crowd.”

He laughs, a happy, humorous, joyful sound. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

We work together for a few minutes, doing what needs to be done, and then he catches my hands suddenly, turning me to face him.

“I love you, Lois. You can be as mad at me as you like. You can yell at me all you want. But don’t forget that, okay?” And his eyes are serious and so, so loving. And he’s just everything I’ve ever wanted, and I love him so much in return.

Maybe I won’t yell at him. Much.

I say nothing, though. Instead, I reach up, wanting to kiss him. He grins slowly. “There’s mistletoe here too?”

I shake my head. “Do we need it?”

“Absolutely not,” he whispers, before his lips cover mine. And, even with everything else he’s given me, this kiss is the best Christmas present yet.


THE END