Epilogue
Lois, still groggy from sleep, rolled over to find Clark's side of the bed empty. Clark's side. Her side. She smiled to herself. She was still getting used to having a "side" and waking up in Clark's bed and Clark's apartment, but the comfort of it all, the rightness of it, that had been there from the start.
Finding his side empty was a common, though not terribly frequent occurrence--another one of the million little things to get used to about sharing a life with Clark Kent. She smiled again when she thought of some of the more pleasant and useful things she'd been getting used to over the last few months. Coffee that was always the perfect temperature. Home cooked meals. Built-in listening equipment on stakeouts.
Her spot on his chest, within the nook of his arm, whenever she wanted it. Well, almost whenever. She felt the sheets with her hand. Cool to the touch, which usually meant a rescue. Sometimes it meant a nightmare that wouldn't allow him to go back to sleep, though those usually had him seeking comfort in her embrace. But thankfully the nightmares seemed to have been slowly declining in frequency.
She checked the clock. 3:47 a.m. She noticed the feelings of anxiety and worry start to rise, so she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Recognise the feelings and let them go is what Dr. Friskin had taught her. No need to panic if she didn't know yet what was going on. After another deep breath, she got out of bed and grabbed her robe from the chair next to her nightstand.
She cinched the robe closed as she padded barefoot out to the living room. He was on the couch with his back to her, sitting cross-legged and talking on the phone, his voice low and soft so as not to wake her, she knew. She came up behind him, knowing from experience that he was already aware and welcoming of her nearness. He always made his calls from the loft when he wanted and needed more privacy.
She stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. His left hand came up across his chest to hold one of hers, and he ran his thumb lightly across her knuckles. She waited patiently for him to finish the call, sensing from his words and tone that he was nearly done.
"Okay, I will. Thanks, Steve," he said, then replaced the receiver in its cradle. He brought her hand to his lips for a soft kiss and then let it go, dropping his own hand to pat the couch next to him in invitation.
She came around to the front of the couch and disregarded the proffered cushion in favor of plopping down on his lap, his legs still crossed, and snuggling into her spot, her head on his chest. She wanted to hear the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Sorry I woke you. Was I too loud?" he asked as his arms automatically came up to hold her, one around her back and the other draped across her thighs.
She shook her head against his chest. "No, you didn't wake me," she said softly. "I think my subconscious just noticed you missing." Another on the list of things she was getting used to. She liked this feeling, this adjusting her heart and mind and soul to let a little bit more of him inside every time. She hoped the list never ended.
"I got the same guy again--Steve. I like him." Clark smiled softly. "I'm pretty sure he knows it's me by now, that it's Superman who's calling. But he doesn't treat me any differently."
She smiled warmly. She knew how much that meant to him. If she ever met Steve, she'd have to thank him. But she knew she never would, never could meet him. She sent a silent thank to the universe instead, asking it to bestow only good things upon Steve and his loved ones.
"He said I could ask for him. They don't usually do that; it's against the rules for various reasons, but he figured…special circumstances and all." He dropped his head a little but grinned all the same. He normally didn't like special or extra attention, especially when it came to Superman, but she could tell he was touched by this. She was, too.
"That's great, honey," she said. She tilted her head to look up at him as she reached to run her fingers gently along his forehead and down to cup his cheek with her palm. This touch, her touch for him, an echo of the way he'd always touched her, was born of her need to try and erase the worry and pain from his brow. It'd mostly outgrown its initial purpose and evolved into affection and awe and all the infinite emotions she needed to convey but couldn't find the words for.
He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm. "Yeah," he agreed softly.
"Was it bad?" she asked, dropping her hand back down to rest on his chest.
"No, the rescue wasn't so bad, and everyone's safe," he answered. "But it was a fire, so…" he trailed off, nodding his head slightly towards the phone.
"You did good, Superman." She paused to check his eyes, to reassure herself that the calm in his voice matched his soul. "I'm proud of you. For the rescue and the phone call."
He smiled down at her, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again to look at her. She felt him take a relaxed breath, her head rising and falling with his chest.
She loved these moments, the doors locked, the world left outside. The only light, that of the street light filtering through the window in the quiet hours of the pre-dawn. The safety and comfort of being in his arms and the absolute feeling of belonging.
His gaze flitted to her mouth, and she instinctively raised her head as his lips came down to meet hers. His kiss was soft and gentle, unhurried and full of love. "Thank you," he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
She was caught for words, but she knew that he didn't always need a reply. He just needed her love.
His eyes started to shimmer with unshed tears, and he spoke again, his voice thick with emotion, "Thank you for loving me."
The End
