Description: When he hears that Dan has been called out of town, Clark takes his shot at another date. But knowing this could be his last chance, he's not only going to be there at 7:01 and 7:02 and 7:03, he's also going to invite Lois away for the weekend to tell her everything. Meanwhile, Lois might be having a bit of a revelation of her own....
Author's Note: This story is a bit of a return to my roots -- all fluff and WAFFs and sweetness. It's complete in four parts (roughly 30K words), and I'll post every other day until it's done. Thanks, as always, to Kathy who not only worked her BR magic on this story, but also kept me from abandoning it completely when I thought I had pilfered too much from the original version for our current WIP and was convinced this story ("The Poor Abandoned Cabin Story" as it was called for months) would never be finished. I'm glad I didn't give up on it! And thanks to Sara whose encouragement and excitement spurred me to finish it, and who helped me figure out the last line of the story and the title.
Chapter 1
Clark followed Lois out of Perry’s office and through the bullpen, headed back to their desks. Perry was safe, the red kryptonite was gone, and he was feeling back to normal. Overall, not a bad way to wrap up the day. He glanced at his partner. If only...
Halfway to their desks, a research assistant handed Lois a piece of paper, and he watched her shoulders sag as she read it.
“Bad news?” he asked gently.
Lois paused. “Uh, Dan called. He won’t be back in town until Monday.”
His heart leapt. Normally he hated to see her disappointed, but if that disappointment was because she wasn’t going to be seeing Dan Scardino for a few days, he could make an exception. He truly didn’t understand what she saw in him, with his flashy shirts and flashier smile and his irritating way of bounding into every room and every conversation as if he had been invited.
“Which means that you’re free tonight...so you could go out with me,” he said hopefully. He knew she was furious with him for abandoning her again during their last date, and the odds of her agreeing seemed slim. But he had to try. Despite all appearances to the contrary, their relationship was the most important thing in his life. He knew he was bungling it terribly, and he was desperate to get things back on track.
Lois sighed and turned to face him. “These two situations are mutually exclusive. Dan’s availability -- or lack thereof -- has nothing to do with our relationship...and your continual disappearing act.”
He could feel her frustration coming off her in waves, and his conscience was pricked again. She had every right to be angry with him. She had no idea why he kept disappearing. She had given him the benefit of the doubt for years as colleagues and friends. But now he was telling her he wanted more, that he wanted a future with her, while continuing to dart away without warning or explanation, often at the worst possible moment. He knew it looked to her like he was unsure of what he wanted from her, unsure of his desire for a future with her. That couldn’t be further from the truth, but what else could she think under the circumstances? He had to be honest with her, if not about His Secret, at the very least about his feelings.
“Look, Lois,” he said gently. “I’m not going to try to stop you from going out with Dan. That’s your choice.”
She exhaled loudly, and turned her face back to him, and her expression nearly broke him. She was trying so hard to look brave and unmoved, but he knew her well enough to see how terribly sad she was.
She wanted him to fight for her, he realized suddenly. Not step aside and give up because he didn’t care enough or because competing for her affection was beneath him. She wanted him to want her. To care enough to fight for her.
“But I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he continued, holding her gaze. “And I realized that instead of dancing around my feelings for you, I have to meet them head on and verbalize my feelings for you. And your going out with Dan? It DOES upset me.”
She was stunned. He watched her cast about for a response, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “I don’t know what to say,” she said finally, her eyes full of hope.
“Say you’ll go out with me tonight,” he said immediately, making no attempt to hide how badly he wanted that. “And I promise I will NOT disappear.”
She held his gaze silently, and he watched with growing joy as the warriness in her eyes faded and a smile lit up her face.
“All right,” she said finally, with a shy smile that made his heart clench. “You can pick me up at seven.”
“Okay,” he said, beaming at her, so incredibly grateful for this chance to prove himself to her.
“But you’ve got to promise you won’t disappear,” she said suddenly, and he shook his head immediately, before she was even done speaking, eager to make the promise. Only the apocalypse could tear him from her tonight.
“And you’ll be there at seven?” she asked, stepping closer and looking into his eyes. He smiled broadly and nodded, confirming his intentions. “And 7:01,” she said with a playful smile, her hands resting on his chest...and then sliding up around his neck. “...and 7:02...and 7:03...”
He smiled at her, unable to find words as she slid closer to him and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck with each new time she slowly added to the count. “...and 7:04...and 7:05.”
She filled his senses: her whisper-soft voice in his ear, the smell of her perfume in his nose, and unbearable softness of her body against his. If this was a preview of their date tonight, he would be lucky to survive it.
Her lips were so close to his, and he was dying to kiss her. It was physically painful and took every ounce of his willpower not to close that gap and press his lips to hers. But they were at work. And he was on thin ice.
He rested his forehead against her and closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he wrapped his arms around her waist. After a minute, he felt her pull back, sliding her arms back and resting her hands on his chest. He opened his eyes and looked into hers, trying to tell her without words how desperately he wanted her, wanted this to work. He lifted one hand, still holding her with the other, and cupped her cheek.
“I promise,” he said softly.
She nodded, and he knew what it cost her to have faith in him, faith he didn’t deserve, after she had been hurt so many times by so many other men.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb just once, then slid his hand away and dropped his arm from her waist, freeing her. He stepped back and waited, watching as she took a breath and then seemed to come back to herself, her normal professionalism masking the sweet vulnerability she had just shown him.
“What should I wear?” she asked. “I mean, where are we going?”
He smiled again. “I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner. Let me see where I can get a last- minute reservation.”
She smiled again, clearly pleased, and his heart raced in his chest.
“Okay, I should...go get ready,” she said, reaching for her bag and flipping off her computer. She smiled at him once more and then turned to leave.
He watched her take a step toward the elevator and impulsively said her name, drawing her attention. She turned back to look at him questioningly, and he smiled again, more tentatively this time.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
She inhaled sharply and her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but felt close enough to love to set his heart racing again. She nodded. “Seven o’clock,” she replied softly, and he nodded. Then she turned and walked away.
He tore his eyes from her and walked to his desk, pulling out the yellow pages and searching for the perfect location for their date.
*****
Lois checked her clock as she pulled the curlers from her hair. Fifteen minutes. She had plenty of time. Her makeup was done, hair was almost done, and her dress was laying on her bed ready to go. She smoothed out her hair and examined herself in the mirror. She looked fine, except for the terrified look in her eyes.
She had no reason to be nervous, she reminded herself. Clark was the one who had something to prove. He was one who had all but begged for this date. She had other options. She had the upper hand.
So why did she feel like her whole future was riding on this one date?
How had he done it, this farmboy from Kansas? How had he captured her heart so thoroughly that she was desperate for him to prove he wanted it?
She knew she should be furious with him. She knew she shouldn’t give him any more chances to break her heart. But here she was, serving it up to him on a silver platter yet again. Please, she begged silently. Please just stay.
A knock at her door startled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at her watch again. 6:55. He was early.
She ran her fingers through her hair, loosening the curls into soft waves, and walked into the bedroom shouting, “Coming!”
She slid her dress over her head, a burgundy shift with a halter top, one of the rejected dresses from the shopping spree the night of their first date. She slipped on black heels and felt automatically for the diamond stud earrings she knew were in her ears.
She walked through the living room and flipped each of the locks, then pulled the door open. Her eyes traveled from the roses in his hands, to his dark suit, to his face. He was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, an almost pained look on his face. He breathed her name but said nothing else, and her heart clenched with the pleasure of seeing his desire for her render him speechless.
“You’re early,” she said softly, stepping aside so he could come in.
“I didn’t want to take the chance of running late,” he admitted with a small grin. “I’m not taking any chances tonight.”
She bit her lip, caught off guard by his playful transparency. He wanted this to work as badly as she did, she realized. It wasn’t a game for him. Whatever this disappearing act was about, it wasn’t that.
She reached for the flowers, and he handed them to her. A dozen red roses. Not the yellow roses or wildflowers or daisies that he had brought her in the past. Red roses. There would be no mistaking his intentions tonight.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Just let me put them in water, and we can go.”
He followed her quietly into the kitchen, reaching for the vase for her automatically when she opened the cabinet. They worked in concert. He filled the vase with water, and she watched him move comfortably in her kitchen, as if he belonged there just as surely as he belonged in her heart. He handed her the vase and she arranged the flowers quickly, then turned to him.
“They’re beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he replied. “You look… I don’t even know what to say. You are so beautiful,”
She felt herself blush, her eyes darting to the flowers. He was quiet, and she lifted her eyes to see what he was doing. She found him staring at her with such undisguised longing that it took her breath away. For years, she had caught him looking at her from time to time. Sometimes with a look of desire that flattered her. Sometimes with a look of affection that warmed her. But never this. This was need. This was love.
“Clark,” she whispered, taking a step toward him without conscious thought. His hand reached out and cupped her cheek, and his head dipped to capture her lips. It was so sweet, so unbearably, achingly sweet, the way his lips feathered against hers, the way his thumb stroked her cheek. She never wanted it to end.
He pulled away slowly, kissing her once more gently before stepping back. “We should go,” he said. “I got us a reservation at Capparelli’s.”
She nodded, not able to trust her voice. They walked to the door, and she grabbed her purse and then reached for her coat and hesitated. She didn’t want to wear it, and it had been warm all day, but she probably needed it now that the sun had set.
“Just leave it,” he said softly, reading her mind. “If you’re cold, you can have mine.”
She left it, reaching for him instead, slipping her hand into his and lacing their fingers together. He squeezed her hand and opened the door, following her out into the hallway and waiting while she locked the door and dropped her keys into her purse. Then they walked together down the stairs and out into the night.
*****
Clark paid the cab driver and stepped out of the car, then he turned and offered Lois his hand. She took it and slid from the car. She dropped it as soon as she was standing, and his heart stuttered at its sudden absence. They’d been quiet on the ten minute cab ride over, but she’d kept her hand curled in his the whole time. Before he could ponder the loss any further, she slipped her hand around his arm, just above his elbow. He tried to muffle his abrupt inhalation as sparks of pleasure shot up his arm and throughout his body. He turned to look at her, and smiled at her.
“You are so predictable,” she teased.
“Am I?” he asked quietly.
“I know you love when I hang on your arm adoringly,” she said, her tone still teasing and light, but with an undercurrent he couldn’t quite identify, something almost hesitant or nervous, as if she wasn’t as sure as she pretended to be.
“I do,” he said softly, not interested in teasing. “I love when you touch me.”
Her eyes flared with desire, and her smile changed, softening into something warmer and more self-assured.
“Come on,” he said, leading her to the restaurant’s door. He opened the door and slid his arm from her grasp, just long enough to place it on the small of her back as he led her through the door.
They were seated quickly, tucked away to the side of the dance floor. The waiter took their wine order and then disappeared, leaving them in a comfortable silence.
“I thought you had taekwondo on Thursdays?” he said. “I wasn’t thinking about that when I invited you tonight. I hope you didn’t have to miss your class.”
She smiled, pleased perhaps that he knew her schedule or that he cared about disturbing it. “Black belts meet on Tuesdays,” she said.
“Congratulations,” he asked with a surprised smile. “When did that happen?”
“A couple weeks ago.”
“You didn’t say anything. That’s not very Lois Lane of you. You didn’t want to brag and remind me that you could take me down in a heartbeat?”
“I have to have my secrets,” she said, taking a sip of water.
“When did you start practicing Taekwondo?” he asked, always greedy to know more about her. “Have you been studying martial arts since you were a kid?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I didn’t start until after college. My first month as a full-fledged reporter at the Planet, I was doing a piece about a string of burglaries in the warehouses down by the harbor. I was skulking around at night, trying to see if I could catch the thieves in action and got more than I bargained for. I managed to get away with just a few bruises and a black eye to show for it, but...it scared me. I wanted to be able to defend myself.”
He bit back a chastising remark about her rushing into dangerous situations and nodded. “That was smart.”
She rewarded him with a smile, and he was thankful he had been able to stop himself from criticizing her. He only wanted to protect her, only wanted to keep her safe because he loved her, but he knew how she hated to be underestimated and coddled.
“Impressive, too,” he added. “So it’s only been...five years? Six?”
“About that,” she said. “I think five and a half.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised. Lois Lane doesn’t do things halfway. Of course you’d work your way to a black belt in record time.”
“You’re just sucking up,” she said, but she flushed with pride.
Their wine arrived, and they looked over the menu briefly and ordered.
He sat back and looked at her. “So, if you weren’t doing martial arts in high school, what were you doing? Besides fighting with your father.”
“Playing tennis. And being Editor in Chief of the school paper. And I was senior class president.”
“Of course you were,” he said again, smiling at her.
“I told you before, I was so popular in high school; I can’t imagine why so many people want to kill me now.”
He laughed and shook his head.
“What about you? What were you doing in high school?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine. He watched her lips on the glass and forced himself to focus on her question.
“I spent a lot of time working on the farm with my dad. But I also wrote for my school paper...and I was co-captain of the football team.”
“Of course you were,” she teased, echoing his statement earlier.
“You had no time or tolerance for us dumb jocks, I suppose?” he said.
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You were no dumb jock,” she countered, waiting expectantly.
He laughed, conceding her point. “I was first in my class.”
“Of course you were,” she said, and he flushed with pleasure.
“Still,” he teased. “You wouldn’t have been caught dead hanging out with the football team.”
She froze, and he realized he’d caught her in something she hadn’t planned to admit. “What?” he said, laughing already. “Out with it.”
“I dated the quarterback my whole senior year.”
“You did not,” he said, cracking up. “Seriously?”
She was laughing now, the kind of laugh he heard in his dreams, full and unreserved. “I absolutely did.”
“And he was a dumb jock?” he asked.
“Dumb as a box of rocks,” she admitted, her cheeks pink, eyes twinkling. “But he was really cute. And sweet.”
He laughed even harder. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said, lifting his wine glass to her in a mock toast.
“Would we have been friends in high school, do you think?” she asked.
He tried to imagine a high school aged Lois Lane giving him the time of day. “I’d like to think so,” he said, his tone still light. “But I probably would have been terribly intimidated by you. I was just a hack from Nowheresville.”
Her smile faltered, and she considered him carefully for a minute before speaking. “I was a lot less jaded in high school,” she said finally. “It wouldn’t have taken me two years to really see you.”
His mind raced for a response, but came up empty. “Lois,” he said finally, his voice strained. “I…”
“Last year,” she interrupted. “I was so... blind. I know I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. “That was a long time ago, Lois,” he said gently. “We’ve both changed a lot.”
“I thought…” she hesitated, obviously unsure whether she should go on. “I thought that might be why you were hesitant. Why you weren’t sure…”
“Oh, honey,” he said, his heart aching for her. “No. That’s not… I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
Her face was full of longing, and he knew she was thinking of every time he ran out on her just as she was about to discuss her feelings for him or just when their date was going so well.
He lifted his free hand and ran his fingers through his hair, stressed by the knowledge of what he had to do. He had to tell her. Not here, not now. But soon. So soon. He had to tell her before he ran out on her again, or he was going to hurt her. He was going to break her.
“Lois,” he said softly. “My disappearing... it’s not because I’m scared or because I want to get away from you. I never, ever want to leave you. There are things about me that you don’t know. Things…”
“...that I may never know,” she finished quietly, and he rushed to correct her.
“No! That’s not what I was going to say. Things that I want you to know. Things I need to tell you. It’s so hard here, with so many distractions. It makes me...so angry when I have to run off and leave you, and I can’t tell you why. I need… We need a chance to talk when we won’t be interrupted by our boss or our coworkers or some crazy criminal bent on revenge or...who knows what.”
He had an idea suddenly. “Come away with me this weekend,” he said.
Her face furrowed in confusion. “Come away with you? On vacation?”
“A friend of mine has a cabin. Just a couple hours north of here. We went up there last summer to go fishing. It’s been in his family for years but he’s the only one who lives close enough to use it. It just sits empty most of the time, and he’s told me over and over that I’m welcome to use it if I need to get away. I’m sure he’d let us use it. It’s on a beautiful piece of property with hiking trails and a little stream.”
“We can’t just go away tomorrow,” she insisted, clearly stunned by his sudden invitation.
“Why not? We both have the weekend off. We can leave after rush hour traffic dies down. It’s only a two hour drive. I’ll double check with David, but I’m sure he won’t mind. He just mentioned it again a few weeks ago.”
“Clark, I don’t know….” her voice trailed off and he could feel her hesitance.
“It’s a big cabin with all the amenities,” he said softly. “There are three bedrooms. I’m not...trying to push you to do something you aren’t ready for. I just want to spend time with you. Uninterrupted time. So we can talk. I want to tell you everything.”
She was silent for another minute, and the waiter reappeared with their plates. He set the food in front of them, and they thanked him quietly then watched him walk away.
Lois picked up her fork and twirled a bit of pasta, her focus on the plate. He sat and waited quietly, giving her time to make the decision without his pressure.
“Okay,” she said, looking up and meeting his gaze. “Let’s go away this weekend.”
He could not have smiled wider if he tried. “Thank you,” he whispered.
They ate quietly for a minute, and his mind reeled with the implications of her agreement. This was the weekend. When this weekend was over, she would know he was Superman. He only hoped he could make her understand why he’d waited so long to tell her, and why now was the time.
****
As they worked their way through their meal, Lois found herself processing Clark’s words, and she felt her reporter's instincts prickle. If Clark needed privacy to tell her "everything" then that meant he had a secret to tell her. Something big. But what could a farm boy from Kansas -- her sweet, smart, and unassuming partner -- be hiding? Even with his hidden depths, depths she had come to admire and appreciate, surely he couldn't be hiding something so serious that it required getting out of Metropolis for them to talk about it.
Whatever it was though, he certainly seemed to think it was grave enough to require that kind of treatment. And he had clearly been stressed and worried as he explained his frustration with his inability to tell her thus far.
She believed his heartfelt declaration that he never wanted to run from her. He had been so quick to correct her when she confessed her fear that her past behavior was making him reluctant to commit to her. He had been so confident and gentle in his rejection of that insecurity.
Honey. He had called her honey.
She looked up and saw him watching her with a mixture of anticipation and fear, and suddenly she felt so tender toward him, so protective. His hand still covered hers on the table, and she slid it out from beneath his so she could twine their fingers together.
“What should I bring?” she asked softly, and his face slid into a smile.
“Just whatever you need. Clothes. Whatever. I’ll take care of everything else.”
She nodded.
“Pack warm clothes,” he added, always looking out for her comfort. “It’s colder up in the mountains. And hiking boots. There are beautiful trails and a little waterfall on the property.”
The rest of dinner passed in a pleasant blur of conversation, and she forced her mind to stay focused on the present. She pushed away the little voice that kept wondering about “everything” and resolved to worry about that later.
Before she knew it, they were outside the restaurant, waiting for a cab. The air had chilled while they were eating and there was a definite bite to the wind. Before she could shiver, his suit coat was around her shoulders.
She glanced up at him, and he shrugged. “It’s cold,” he said quietly, opening the door of the cab that had just pulled to a stop in front of them, and waiting for her to slide inside. He climbed in beside her and gave the driver her address. Then he slid his hand gently into hers.
Her heart swelled, so full of emotions tonight, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they wound through the city streets.
He walked her to her door, as he always did, and she could see him preparing to end the evening. He turned to face her, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek.
The evening had been so perfect, she wasn’t ready for it to end. He had been so brave and vulnerable asking her to go away with him this weekend, telling her he wanted to be completely open and honest with her, and now he was looking at her with such gentle sweetness.
She thought for a moment of their first date, when he had stood in that same spot looking at her like that, and she had known he was about to kiss her and change her whole life, and she had panicked and slammed the door in his face.
“Come in,” she whispered. “Just for a little bit?”
He hesitated, searching her face for something, and then he nodded.
She unlocked the door and led him inside, closing it and securing the locks.
She turned to face him again. “I had such a good time tonight, Clark. I’m so glad we did it. “
“Me too,” he said softly, his hand returning to her cheek. “I can’t wait for this weekend.”
She nodded in agreement, and then hesitated. “Do you want something to drink?” she offered, unsure what to do next.
And then his lips were on hers, and she knew exactly what to do. Her hands slid around his neck and into his hair, holding him to her. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. They traded kisses, sweet and gentle but full of promise, until she was dizzy with delight.
She pulled her mouth from his just far enough to say, “Couch”.
He guided her there, his hand warm on her waist, while she kissed him again. They sat facing each other and she shrugged off his coat, letting it land on the couch behind her, and wrapping her arms around his neck like she had done in the newsroom earlier than evening. His forehead rested against hers again, but this time she lifted her chin in invitation and he captured her lips. Her heart raced as he kissed her again, his tongue tracing the inside of her top lip. She parted her lips in invitation, whimpering softly, and he pressed forward,
Her mind swam, all coherent thoughts gone, as his kisses sent waves of pleasure through her. He took his time, teasing her gently as he explored her mouth. They had kissed before, after other dates. But this was…more. His hands tangled in her hair as his mouth continued its steady, sweet exploration.
She pulled her mouth from his, gasping for air, and his lips slid across her cheek to her neck. She moaned softly, dropping her head to the side instinctively, desperate for him to keep doing what he was doing. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, past the tiny strap of her dress and over her shoulder. He lifted his face, and she whimpered again. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper.
He kissed his way back over her shoulder to her neck, and she gasped his name.
“God, Lois,” he murmured against her skin. “We have to stop. This is…”
She pulled back, looking at him warily. “Don’t leave,” she begged.
“No!” he said immediately. “I’m not leaving. We just need to slow down. This is…”
He was trembling, she realized suddenly. He was as overwhelmed as she was.
“Lois,” he said, cupping her cheek. “This feels so good. You feel so good. I don’t want to stop. But I want to be careful. I don’t want to rush. I want to get this right. It’s too important to take chances. I’m not just having fun here, Lois. This is...everything. You...are everything. I don’t want to rush into something and have you regret it later. I want us to take our time. We have all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere.”
She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. She took a shaky breath, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into his hand, holding his gaze. “Okay,” she said.
He slid his hand from her cheek and held her hands in his. He kissed her, tenderly this time, and she knew he was reassuring her that he wasn’t leaving; didn’t want to leave. He was making his intentions clear, with his words and his touch. He wasn’t playing games, he wasn’t just having fun. This was it for him. For them. This was the relationship that changed their lives.
She slid one hand from his, lifting it to his cheek, her fingers fluttering gently.
Their kisses slowed and gentled until finally they broke apart, his forehead resting against hers. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist. The other hand stroked her arm lazily.
She cast about for something to say, but everything seemed like too much or not enough. Instead, she pulled back and then leaned forward resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed contentedly and tightened his arm around her, pressing her to his chest, and began to stroke her hair and then her back. They sat quietly for a few minutes and her mind was blessedly quiet, thinking only about the feel of his body against hers.
“It’s late,” she said quietly, sitting up. “And I still have to pack for this weekend. We should…”
He hesitated and then nodded, though he made no effort to hide his reluctance. He kissed her cheek and stood, reaching for her hand. She took it and stood with him, leading him to the front door.
At the door, she turned to face him and slid her hands around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, and she wanted it to go on forever.
“Thank you for tonight,” he said softly, when they finally pulled apart. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Clark,” she whispered, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.
He lingered for another moment, then reached for the door and slipped out of her apartment. She flipped the locks behind him, then turned and leaned against the door. Her eyes closed and she replayed the date in flashes: the roses in his hand when he arrived, their laughter at dinner as they joked about their high school personas, his kisses, both tender and fiery, on her couch. It was, she realized, the best date of her life. And she desperately wanted more.
Suddenly she was looking forward to this weekend away with him more than she had ever looked forward to any vacation. Alone, in a cabin in the beautiful spring woods with hiking trails and waterfalls, and no distractions… with the man she was almost certainly falling in love with. It was almost too much to imagine.
She walked to the kitchen, washing up a few cups and wiping down the counters. A slow smile spread across her face as she replayed his words tonight. They were a declaration of love, whether he said the words or not. They both knew it.
He wasn’t playing games. He wasn’t having a little bit of fun for a while. He loved her. He loved her enough to slow things down and make sure they took their time and didn’t rush into anything. He loved her enough to be honest with her. To be vulnerable with her. To tell her all his secrets.
She finished in the kitchen and straightened up the living room, gathering her briefcase and purse. Taking her keys from her purse and putting them on the table by the door where she would be able to find them in the morning.
She couldn’t wait for morning, when she would see him at work. Where he would shoot her secret smiles while they worked on their stories, and he would find excuses to come lean against her desk and talk to her. Where she would pretend there was lint on his suit coat so she had an excuse to touch him. And somehow they would make it through the work day before taking off for the mountains, where they could be alone for two whole days, and they wouldn’t have to pretend they were talking about work, and she wouldn’t need an excuse to touch him. And he would tell her all his secrets.
And then she heard his voice in her mind. “There are things about me that you don’t know…”
Why had she immediately assumed that the next part of that phrase was “... that you might never know”? Where had she heard that before? Why was it so familiar?
Her eyes roamed around the living room, his words repeating in her mind. She crossed the room and closed the window, locking it. For nearly two years, she had left it open in silent invitation. But that chapter of her life was over. She thought she might be sad to give up that fantasy, but she didn’t feel anything but excitement and joy.
She walked through the living room, heading to her room to pack for the weekend. As she reached for the light switch, she looked over her shoulder, and her gaze landed on the window again. And suddenly she knew where she had heard those words before.
His voice was exactly the same tonight: same inflection, same hesitation. “There are things about me that you don’t know. That you may never know.”
But it wasn’t Clark who had stood in her living room last year and said those exact same words to her.
It was Superman.
She had told him she loved him. And he had told her there were things she didn’t know about him. Things that she might never know.
She had insisted that she did know him. Not the celebrity. Not the superhero. But him. She had sworn that if he were just an ordinary man, living an ordinary life, she would love him just the same. And he had told her that he wished he could believe that, but “under the circumstances” he couldn’t.
She had been too embarrassed, too broken-hearted, at the time to ask him to clarify. And she had wondered for months what those circumstances were. What if...what if he told her that because only hours before he had stood in front of her as that ordinary man and told her he loved her...and she had broken his heart?
No. That was not possible. There was no way.
Clark Kent was not Superman.
Clark Kent was from Kansas. He was a sweet, gentle, kind, farm boy who went to Midwest University and played football and then traveled the world writing articles about geckos before landing a job at the Daily Planet and becoming her partner and eventually her best friend. He was shy and naive and unassuming. He was not a superhero who swallowed bombs and lifted rockets into space. That was not possible. She was losing her mind.
She walked into her room and pulled a suitcase from her closet and opened it on her bed. Thankfully, she had done laundry a few days ago, so her options were vast. She started with clothes, pulling out a couple pairs of jeans and black leggings that she knew made her legs look impossibly long.
She turned and put them in the suitcase, then went back to the dresser, and added a couple t-shirts for hiking and a couple of fitted, scoop-necked long-sleeved shirts for the rest of the time. She walked to her closet and pulled out a couple sweaters and a zippered fleece for the hike and dug out her hiking boots.
She stilled, frozen in front of the suitcase, her mind refusing to stay quiet.
Clark Kent was intelligent, a wheedling voice reminded her. And caring. He had integrity. And innate goodness. He was a lot like Superman.
Oh god. She was going crazy. Yes, Clark was like Superman. Of course that made sense. She had been in love with Superman for years, and now she was falling in love with Clark. So it wasn’t all that far-fetched to imagine the two men had things in common, things that had attracted her to both of them. But that didn’t mean they were the same person.
She arranged her clothes in the suitcase, then wandered to her dresser and opened the pajama drawer, and hesitated. Her fingers trailed over the silky nightgowns, but she finally reached past them and grabbed two pairs of pajama pants and a couple of tank tops.
She opened her underwear drawer and found herself faced with the same dilemma of sexy versus practical. She smirked and decided to be prepared just in case. She reached past the stacks of white and beige and grabbed the bits of black lace with the matching bras.
She carried the pajamas and underwear, along with some socks, to the suitcase, dumped them on top, and zipped it.
She needed to pack a toiletry bag, but she would need most of the items in the morning, so there was no sense doing it now. She rolled the suitcase down the hall, sitting it by the front door.
On her way back, the living room curtains caught her eye, and she stopped in her tracks, hearing the whisper she had been trying to ignore while she packed.
“There are things about me that you don’t know. That you may never know.”
Was it possible? Was Clark’s big secret the fact that he was Superman?
No, she told herself firmly as she tore her gaze from the window and walked to the bathroom. She slipped her dress off, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door and walked to the sink. She pulled her hair back and washed her face, removing her makeup.
No, she told herself again. It was ridiculous. It was impossible. It was inconceivable.
She toweled off her face and began to brush her teeth. She was not going to waste any more time thinking about this. She finished brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, then walked into the bedroom. She took off her bra and tossed it in the laundry basket, then grabbed a nightgown from the drawer and pulled it over her head.
Except…Clark and Superman had both appeared in Metropolis at almost exactly the same time. And somehow Clark seemed to be the only person who ever knew how to contact Superman.
Still, that proved nothing. They were friends. Everyone knew that. That’s all it was. They were friends, and they talked a lot. He probably did have a way to contact Superman. Maybe that was part of his secret. Maybe he was helping Superman somehow.
She climbed into bed and shook her head. That made no sense at all. Why would Clark have to run off and help Superman? That made even less sense than him being Superman. Which made no sense at all.
But...that would be a really big secret, she thought as she clicked off the lamp and slid under the covers, resting her head on her pillow.
The kind of secret that made you run off at a moment’s notice and disappear for hours on end with no explanation. The kind of secret that you couldn’t tell anyone, even your best friend. The kind of secret that you could only tell someone if you wanted to share your life with them. The kind of secret you might need to take her away for the weekend to tell her.
Oh god. Was this really happening? Was Clark secretly Superman? And was he going to tell her this weekend?
Just for a minute she decided to let herself believe it. Even though it was obviously not true, and she was crazy. But just for the sake of the argument, she could pretend for the moment that he was Superman. And he had invited her to go away this weekend so he could tell her that. If that was true…then there was no denying that he loved her. Because if it was true, this was a secret he had kept his whole life.
She knew his parents. She had been in his childhood bedroom. If Clark and Superman were the same person, then the real person was Clark. Superman was just the secret identity he had invented when he came to Metropolis, so he could do the incredible things he did to help without anyone guessing it was him.
That part was obvious. Because Superman had appeared out of thin air two years ago. And Clark grew up in Smallville with the world’s greatest parents. She had seen photos of him as a toddler in overalls on a big green tractor. She had touched his little league trophies. Clark Kent was a real person, with a real family and a real history. And Superman was just a disguise.
Her heart clenched at how utterly blind she had been. She pushed that thought away, refusing to deal with it right now.
If Clark was Superman, that meant he had hidden his powers for years — for his whole life? — until two years ago when he had decided to use his powers publicly and created a secret identity to protect himself from the prying eyes of the public. To protect his family too, she realized. If the world found out Clark was Superman, Martha and Jonathan would be hounded mercilessly. And they would be in danger, she realized. He must know that. Not just know it, but worry about it. She knew Clark well enough to know that he would fear that above all else — his parents being used as pawns to manipulate him; his parents being hurt or killed as retribution.
Her heart raced as she imagined it. She adored Clark’s parents. They had been unfailingly kind to her over the last two years. They had welcomed her into their home and into their family. Clark loved his parents so much. He would never do anything that would put them in danger. Which meant this was a secret he guarded ferociously.
If he was giving her the gift of this secret, he was doing it not just because he trusted her but because he was ready to commit his heart and his future to her.
Once he told her, she would know his secret forever. He might as well be proposing, because that’s what this was. He was binding them together in this secret for life. Whatever happened between them…for the rest of her life she would have to keep his secret for him. She would have to lie for him. Cover for him. Protect him.
Or maybe she was crazy, she reminded herself.
Maybe his secret was something completely different. Maybe someday she would tell him that she had imagined this was his secret, and they would laugh about it together. Maybe.
She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, willing herself to sleep. But she had a feeling sleep would be a long time coming tonight.
