Danger children! Here be monsters. This story was written to explore Lois' feelings as she and Clark get *very* close. I've reworked the story to take out the nfic bits but there are still some extremely PG13 traces because without them the story doesn't flow. If that's not your bag, baby, then you'll want to close this story and move on.
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Part 7/11
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The world is feeling fuzzier and fuzzier. The water doesn't even seem cold anymore. Distantly I realize that I'm going into hypothermia. I should probably feel bad about all this, but I don't. I have two choices - I can either make a break for it and get shot or I can stay here until I slip into unconsciousness and drown. I've heard drowning doesn't hurt at all so that seems very tempting.
Do I have any regrets? Plenty. I never did walk on the Great Wall of China. I never won a Pulitzer. Or a Grammy. I never told Perry that it was me who spilled coffee on his autographed 'Blue Hawaii' screenplay. But really, why would you leave something that valuable just lying around the office where anyone could accidentally ruin it? And I've never told Clark that I loved him as anything more than a friend.
I want to hang on, but it feels impossible. I'm shivering too hard to maintain my hold anymore. I flail in the water in one last desperate attempt but I can't seem to swim. The water burns in my throat as I choke.
Then I feel something solid against me. Dimly I realize that it's Clark. He's got me and we're flying. I try to put my arms around his neck but they still won't cooperate. I drift in and out of consciousness before I recognize that we're back at the condo. Clark is holding me wrapped up in a blanket in front of the fire. I feel like a sleepy child. Why am I not wet? Shouldn't I be soaked?
"Did you dry me off?" I ask, my voice sounds like it's coming from miles away.
"Yes." He kisses the top of my head.
"You're very handy to have around." I snuggle closer to him. There was something I was going to tell him, what was it?
"Lois? Can you tell me what happened? How'd you end up in the West River?"
"Ummm," I open my eyes, pulled away from sleep by his question. "I went to meet Lou and someone shot at me."
"Was it Lou?"
I shake my head. "I don't know. I don't think so, but I couldn't tell you either way. You didn't see anyone?"
"No. I came to find you at the pier and no one was around. I was about to head back here to the condo when I heard you."
"Oh." I yawn, still feeling overwhelmed with lethargy. Besides, if I wake up it will mean he won't be holding me anymore. There are far worse places I could be right now. Floating in the river. Down at the morgue. This is much better.
"So I guess Lou called Delaney's partner after we left the Club." I can feel the rumble of Clark's voice against my cheek as he talks. It's a nice sensation.
"Or he called Delaney to tell him we were on to him," I correct, feeling more awake now that I can argue with him.
"It's also possible that E just happened to see you while you were down at the pier."
"Because it's such a nice day for a walk?" I look up and see that Clark is smiling.
"Maybe not," he concedes.
I watch the reflection of the fire off his glasses for a moment. Then I reach up and take them off. He goes to stop me and then relaxes. "Force of habit," he says sheepishly.
"Tell me again why you wear them. I know you said you've had them since before you were Superman. But what happened, specifically, to make you get them?"
He lets out a small chuckle. "You know how sometimes you just stare off into space?"
I nod.
"I was doing that and I burned a hole through the kitchen table. My mom came up with the idea of using the lens to distract my eye." He shrugs. "And it worked. It especially came in handy once I got to Metropolis and started being Superman."
"You also said you did it so you didn't invade people's privacy."
He reddens a little. "Yeah. That too."
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate.
"All the stuff I do as Superman? It's kind of like the flying. I have to think about it a little. You know, kinda squint at it or concentrate. I don't just see through things unless I try."
"But you must have seen something…"
He sighs. "It's an invasion of people's privacy. I don't look unless I need to."
"And you're telling me you've never looked? Never once?"
He's definitely blushing. "Once. Years ago."
"Who was she?"
"Just… some girl."
"Some girl?"
"Lois, I was a lot younger and less mature. It was a rotten thing to do and I still regret it. I had no right."
"And you've never looked since?"
"No." He shakes his head emphatically.
"Never even been tempted to peek?"
He tenses a little. "I've never even peeked."
"I asked if you were tempted, not if you peeked."
He hesitates. "I've been tempted."
It's his hesitation that drives my need to know. "When? When were you tempted to look? And at who?"
He shifts me off his lap. "Lois, maybe we ought to think about getting something for dinner."
"Come on, Superman. I'm asking you a direct question. You asked if there was anything else I always wanted to know. I want to know who you've been peeking at."
"I thought our interview ended last night."
"I reserve the right to ask questions as they occur to me. I have two years worth of questions, they aren't going to surface all at once."
"You already know the answer."
"Maybe. But I want to hear you say it."
He looks past me into the fire. "You," he says softly. "It was you. I promise I've never peeked, but I have been tempted."
"When?"
"What?"
"It was a two-part question. When were you tempted to look? And were you tempted as Superman or as Clark?"
"There's no difference in who was tempted."
"To me there is. When?"
He stands up, looking just a little bit agitated. "You want me to cite dates and times?"
I stand up too. "So you've had this temptation more than once?"
He lets out a sigh and looks at the ceiling. "Honeymoon suite of the Lexor Hotel. You were getting undressed in the bedroom. I could hear your clothes hitting the floor. That was the first time."
"When was the last time?"
"It was here."
"This morning?" Now I'm the one blushing. "Was it when I was in the shower this morning?"
"No! Not this morning. It was when we were here on that stakeout. You had gone into the bedroom to change and, well, you stood in front of the door. I could see your silhouette and…"
"Oh my god," I laugh and flush even harder. "I saw you too! And, trust me, if I'd had x-ray vision I would have peeked."
"Really? You could see me?"
"How do you think half the bottle of champagne ended up on the floor?"
He tips his head back and laughs. "I didn't think about it. You were crouched down when I came back out and I could see cleavage…"
"Clark!" I slap his arm. "I…"
"Don't go pretending you're on a higher moral ground here, Lois. You just admitted you would have looked."
"That's different!"
"How is it different?" I know he's right, there's no difference. I'm going to lose this argument unless I can divert him. Hell, cleavage worked before. I drop the blanket and glance down. This shirt isn't at all low-cut but it is slightly damp.
Clark isn't even fazed. "Don't go thinking that feminine wiles will win this one."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do." He gives his best stern Superman look. "You're not still trying to test my resolve, are you?"
"What if I am?" I say coquettishly, stepping closer to him.
"Then you're playing with fire, Lois."
"Don't you ever play with fire, Clark?"
"You forget - I don't get burned. Invulnerabale, you know?"
"Can I ask you another personal question?"
"Okay." He looks very smug.
"So… if you can't feel pain - how can you feel pleasure?"
His expression goes from smug to distracted. "It's not that I don't feel pain, there's pressure, a sensation - it just doesn't hurt."
"What about pleasure?" I draw my finger lightly down his arm.
"I can feel that." It's a husky whisper.
"Oh?" I raise an inquisitive eyebrow. "This is off the record, of course, but I do have a few follow-up questions."
He clears his throat softly. "Ask me."
"How do you know that what you're feeling is pleasure? I'm assuming that your nerve endings register all sensations the same. Does it depend on the context?"
"Lois, can you tell the difference between pain and pleasure?"
"Yes, but we're not talking about me." I trace a 'S' on his chest.
"How do you know the difference? To some people, like masochists, there's no difference. It's in how you perceive it."
"So you just perceive that it's pleasure, but you don't really know?"
"I can tell the difference. It's not like I've never felt pain. When there's Kryptonite around I feel pain. When it's taken away my powers I've even been physically hurt. I can definitely tell the difference."
"So would you need to be exposed to Kryptonite to feel genuine pleasure?"
"You're not hiding Kryptonite somewhere in this room to test that theory, are you?"
"No, but you have to admit it's a possibility."
"That you're hiding Kryptonite?"
"No!" I smack his chest playfully, admiring his effort to sidetrack me. "That you could feel genuine pleasure."
"Are you looking for empirical evidence or would you be willing to take my word for it?"
"I'm going to need some evidence."
He blinks and gives me a slow, meaningful smile. I know if I look away he'll win this round.
"What kind of evidence, exactly?" There's a wicked glint in his eyes. "Do you really want me to show you?"
Oh my god, how did we get here? I can't believe that my voice still manages to be sultry when I say, "I think you're going to have to show me."
He steps closer, his hands coming to my waist to pull me against him.
"Last chance," I caution him with more than a little bravado. I look into his eyes, trying to act like I'm even remotely in charge here. "Tell me to stop, Clark, and I'll terminate this interview."
He chuckles and I feel the vibrations resonate where his chest is pressed against mine. "And if I don't tell you to stop?"
"Then I'll probably still respect you in the morning."
