The Million Dollar Question
It started innocently enough, Clark thought. It was a normal Tuesday. Going on five o’clock. News was slow. And Lois, as a result, was (unsurprisingly) going on… and on… about Superman. Again.
“I mean even his boots exude just this *confidence*.”
Oh god! Now she was praising his boots!? Her obsession with him was getting ridiculous!
Perfect hair.
Perfect eyes.
Perfect smile.
Great voice.
Great laugh.
So good and pure of heart.
Perfect body.
She loved *everything* about the guy! About… *him*, actually. Except she didn’t. Well…
Those were *his* eyes and his hair, and his smile and his voice and his laugh and his body and his heart. The only thing that Lois mentioned that Superman possessed and he didn’t were the stupid boots!
With a loud groan, as his frustration was making him feel like climbing the walls – literally – he stood up quickly, sending his chair crashing down.
That got her attention.
“Lois! What does he have that I don’t?”
Once the question was out her look of pure shock turned to one of utter amusement. She turned her attention back to the article on her desk with his picture. Superman’s picture. Shaking her head she looked at him again. At Clark. And then back at the picture. Still smiling. Probably weighing in her mind all the things that Superman had that Clark didn’t, but not saying them. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, perhaps.
And he sighed, relieved. How could he be so careless as to ask such a question!? To Lois Lane! He had to better control his jealousy or he would get himself into trouble. And it was jealousy over himself! That could get him committed. Although maybe therapy wasn’t a bad idea.
Wait.
She was no longer smiling.
She was staring at the picture, a very serious look on her face. She turned the look on him. Then back at the picture.
She looked confused. Pensive. Suspicious.
She looked at him again. Then back at the picture.
Him.
Picture.
Him.
Picture.
Oh god.
“Well, Lois, it’s slow. I think I’m going to get going.”
“Kent…”
“Yeah, well, see you tomorrow.”
He grabbed his coat.
“Clark!”
“Have a great night, Lois.”
“Clark!”
“Don’t stay too late.”
Too late. It *was* too late. She was running after him, article in hand. Telling him he better wait or he’d see the wrath of Lois Lane.
He jumped in the elevator, but she was too quick. She jumped in after him.
The doors closed.
And she pulled the emergency button, stopping the elevator.
She turned to him, crossed her arms.
“That was a good question, Clark. A *very* good question.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a reporter. I try.”
“Well, we aren’t going anywhere. We have time. Let’s discuss. What *does* Superman have that you don’t?”
“Oh, lots of things. You pretty much reeled off the list before.”
“Uh huh,” she said, as she leaned forward and undid a few buttons on his shirt.
He didn’t try to stop her. Protect himself. He… he didn’t even want to.
And finally, there it was. The ‘S’.
After a few awestruck moments, Lois finally looked at him.
He swallowed. “So… you really like the boots?”
