Lois surveyed the jumble of broken pottery in front of her, trying to make heads or tails of the art installation.
The complimentary tickets she had scored to this event from the Daily Planet’s Art Desk had seemed at the time like the perfect way to wrap up their weekend together. The artist was all the rage, and Diana had assured her that the event would be edgy and fun, not stuffy and boring.
She and Clark had started the day with brunch at Callard’s, a new restaurant that had opened recently near her apartment. And then they had spent the entire afternoon playing tourists, doing both a walking tour of the city and a boat tour of the harbor, cramming as much as possible into their last day.
They had skipped dinner, since the event boasted heavy hor d'oeuvres, and had spent the last hour wandering aimlessly from one baffling art piece to the next desperately looking for waiters carrying trays of anything that looked remotely palatable.
“I don’t get it,” Clark said skeptically. “How does this represent World Peace?”
“I think you have to open your mind to the artist’s inner feelings,” she replied.
Clark raised an eyebrow and gave her a dubious look.
She cracked up, unable to fake it any longer. “You got me. It looks like someone dropped it on the way in and decided to just display the shards and pretend it was intentional.”
They walked to the next installation, a sculpture made of rusted car parts, looked at each other, and started to laugh.
Clark’s flight left early the next morning, and Lois knew that when they said goodbye tonight, she wouldn’t talk to him again for a month, until he returned from his travels. She felt herself already dreading their separation and reluctant to end their evening early, even if they both had clearly had enough of this exhibit.
“You know what I really want to do?” Lois said conspiratorially.
“What?” he asked.
“Ditch this place, go home, change into something comfortable, and watch a bunch of movies.”
Clark moaned in appreciation. “That sounds amazing.”
Lois grinned. “Let’s do it!”
They locked eyes for a minute, and then turned and scurried toward the exit. They began to laugh as soon as they were outside on the sidewalk.
“Thank god,” Clark said. “I couldn’t take another minute of that.”
“I know! And I’m starving,” she whined. “I wish I knew a good place for Chinese takeout.”
“I think the doorman at my hotel said something about knowing a bunch of good takeout locations when I checked in,” Clark said. “Why don’t you drop me off, and I’ll get changed, grab us some food, and take a cab back to your place. Meanwhile you can grab some movies and go home and get comfortable?”
“That sounds perfect,” she said, and it truly did.
Thirty minutes later, she was parking her Jeep and carrying a stack of Mel Gibson movies into her apartment. She tossed the movies on the coffee table, and then went to her room, kicking off her heels and peeling off her jeans and the tight top she’d changed into for the art gallery opening.
She stood for a moment in her underwear, staring into her closet. She wanted to get comfortable, but her heart rebelled at the idea of spending the evening with Clark in her shlumpiest sweats.
It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. Clark was just a friend. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She didn’t need to look attractive tonight.
Despite her protestations, she could feel her pulse pick up when she thought about spending the evening cuddled up with him on the couch.
They had always been physically affectionate with each other — even in the very beginning when the amount of time they had known each could still be measured in hours. Her mind flashed back to the conference – his hand on her back, his arm around her shoulders. Surely it was reasonable to imagine they would sit the same way on her couch tonight.
And that was fine. Right? That was just the kind of friends that they were. Friends who sat close and hung on each other’s arms and danced…and kissed.
Good god, that kiss yesterday. She blushed just thinking about it. It had been a ruse at first, a desperate attempt to justify their presence in the back office at the Metro Club. She hadn’t thought twice about grabbing Clark and kissing him. She had known instinctively that he would understand her motivation. And it worked. They had escaped unharmed and with the disk that she couldn’t wait to explore.
But somewhere along the way, between launching herself at him and the moment he pulled away to respond to the surprised cries of the bouncers, she had completely lost control of the kiss. His lips had moved against hers, warm and insistent, and it had been intoxicating. And she had abandoned all pretense that the kiss was just a cover, responding immediately and passionately.
When he had pulled back, pretending to be surprised by the interruption, she hadn’t had to fake her own surprise. Her muscles had liquified, and she was limp in his arms, barely able to open her eyes let alone form any sort of coherent explanation for the bouncers. Thank goodness he had done all the talking, because she wasn’t sure she could have put two words together.
They had made a mad dash out of the club and down the street, and soon she had recovered enough to joke with him about the disk she had managed to pilfer on the way out. But internally, she was still reeling from the feel of his lips on hers, desperate for him to kiss her like that again, and terrified by how badly she wanted that.
They had ended their night after their aborted evening at the club, and as she waited for him to meet her at the restaurant the next morning, she had worried that things between them would be awkward. Not just because of the kiss, but because the whole evening had been charged – from the moment she picked him up at his hotel room when he’d made no effort to hide his attraction to her, to their dance at the club when she had melted in his arms, to that explosive kiss, to the way he stroked her cheek so tenderly when he’d said goodnight. The whole night had been a cascade of emotions, and she was worried that things between them would feel awkward in the morning light.
But Clark had appeared ready for a day of tours, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and his trademark grin. He hadn’t mentioned the night before, except to joke that he was happy they had made it out safely and weren’t spending the day receiving an unwanted tour of the underside of the city. The tours had been far more fun than she had anticipated, and Clark had soaked up every bit of random trivia, whispering asides to her about similar landmarks in other cities he had visited over the years.
By the time they’d split up to shower and change for the art gallery event, her nerves had subsided completely. He was her best friend again, no longer a threat to her self control.
The art gallery had been a disaster, but together they’d found the hilarity in the event, and she couldn’t say she was sorry they had attended. She was thankful, however, that they had made their escape, and she was looking forward to a casual night at home for their last evening together after being on the go for three days straight. Tomorrow he would be gone and her life would go back to normal. Lois shook her head. She wasn’t ready yet to think about him leaving.
She was still standing in front of her closet, no closer to being dressed than when she had first stripped off her clothes.
This was ridiculous, she told herself. It was just Clark. She walked over to her dresser and grabbed a pair of soft gray pants and a matching racerback tank top. Casual and comfortable. Perfect for watching a movie with a friend.
She returned to the living room, giving a quick glance around to make sure it was tidy, and then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure what to do while she waited for Clark. Finally she decided to open a bottle of wine, and she was just pouring it into two glasses when she heard the knock at the door.
“Coming!” she called.
She carried the glasses into the living room, along with some plates and napkins. She set them on the coffee table besides the video tapes, and made her way quickly to the front door. She felt a flutter of nerves suddenly, realizing this was the first time Clark would be in her apartment, since all weekend they had met at his hotel room or out in the city.
She shoved it down, hastily unlocking each of the five locks, and swinging the door open. He was wearing gray athletic shorts and a snug black t-shirt, the hems of the sleeves rolled up above the bulge of his biceps. Her eyes went immediately to his arms, the muscles flexed as he held the stack of bamboo baskets in front of him.
“Come in,” she said, shaking herself out of her stupor and stepping aside.
He stood beside her, watching with amusement as she relocked each of the locks. “That’s quite a security setup you have there,” he teased.
“I suppose you don’t even lock your front door,” she parried.
“I…usually remember to lock it,” he said with a grin.
“Let me guess…you keep a spare key under your mat?”
“No!” he said, with a mock offended look on his face. “It’s under the flower pot.”
She laughed, reaching for some of the food baskets, and leading him into the living room. “You wouldn’t last a minute in Metropolis, farm boy.”
“Eh,” he said lightly. “I don’t know. I think I could adapt.”
Her heart fluttered at the thought of him there in her city all the time. “I uh, got some movies,” she said, suddenly flustered. She gestured to the stack of videos in black rental cases. “I know how much you like Lethal Weapon. I got all three, so we could start with one. Or two. Or there’s three. It’s sort of stupid at the beginning, but it gets better.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused by her nervous babbling. “One would be great,” he said finally.
She set the baskets of food on the table and grabbed the top video, glad to have something to do to keep her hands busy. She turned her back on him, sliding the tape into the VCR and taking a slow deep breath. She turned on the tv and turned the volume down so they could talk over the movie in the background while they ate.
When she turned back around, he had the baskets spread out, and she was surprised by the variety. Everything looked delicious. She joined him on the couch and plucked a dumpling from the nearest basket, popping it into her mouth.
“Mmm, this is amazing,” she said. “And it’s still hot. Where in the world did you find this? I’ve lived in Metropolis my whole life, and I’ve never managed to find Chinese food this authentic.”
He looked embarrassed for a moment, and she wondered about it. He was a strange one sometimes.
“I guess I just got lucky,” he said. “It was just a tiny little hole in the wall near my hotel. I forget what it was called. The doorman recommended it.”
“Well, you need to get me the name or address from the doorman before you check out.”
“Try the duck,” he said, holding out another basket and handing her a pair of chopsticks.
She plucked out a piece skeptically, not normally a fan of duck. But as soon as she slid the bite into her mouth, she was converted. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. She opened them just in time to catch the heated look on Clark’s face, and she grinned at him. He looked away, busted, and she took pity on him, passing him the basket of dumplings.
They ate leisurely, commenting occasionally on the movie or a particularly delicious dish. Eventually, when they were completely stuffed, Lois gathered up the leftovers and carried them to the refrigerator.
She grabbed the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, and took it with her back into the living room, reaching for his glass. He handed it to her with a smile, and she refilled both glasses, leaving the bottle on the coffee table and walking back over to her side of the couch.
He had sat back in his spot while she was in the kitchen, draping his arm across the back of the couch, and she hesitated for only a moment before sitting directly beside him, close enough that their bodies touched. He curled his arm around her, his fingers stroking her shoulder gently.
She smiled to herself, pleased with her choice of a shirt, remembering that morning at the conference when he had touched her the same way, and she had wished he would trail his fingers lower, past her sleeve, to touch her bare skin.
She slid down in her seat and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Mel Gibson’s really good in these movies,” she said softly, nestling into his embrace.
“He plays a good wild man,” Clark said lightly. “Sometimes I think I should be more of a wild man.”
She leaned back and looked at him skeptically.
He laughed. “Pete even suggested I get a motorcycle…but I think he just wants to borrow it since Lana would murder him if he bought one of his own. He said I could wear a black leather jacket and pierce my ear.”
Lois shook her head, laughing.
“No earring?” he teased.
“Uh uh,” she said. “You don’t want to ruin your Boy Scout image.”
He rolled his eyes, still laughing.
“A black leather jacket might not be a bad idea though,” she said with a grin.
“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean, if you want to go for the wild man look, without making any permanent changes…everyone loves a leather jacket, and black is definitely your color.”
She rested a hand on his chest, intending to draw attention to the black t-shirt he was wearing currently. But under the soft cotton, his muscles twitched at her touch and her mouth went dry, her hand aching to slide down and explore every one of the muscles she knew were hiding under that shirt.
“Is it?” he asked softly, his voice low and intimate, and she inhaled sharply, every nerve in her body on high alert.
She dragged her gaze from where her hand rested on his chest up to his face, and her breath caught in her chest. His mouth was inches from her lips, his eyes staring deep into hers waiting for an answer to a question, though not the one he had asked aloud.
There was nothing she wanted more in the world at that moment than to close the gap between them, to feel his mouth on hers without any pretense.
He breathed her name, and her heart clenched, a ragged breath escaping from her lips. He was leaving in the morning, a little voice reminded her. He was going to disappear into the jungles of Asia for a month and then he was going to return to his life in Smallville – his students, his team, his family.
He wasn’t coming back to Metropolis. He had a whole life in Kansas. And her life was here. There was no reality in which there was a future for them aside from friendship. And one kiss – and whatever might come after that kiss – was not worth losing his friendship, no matter how earth shattering it might be. And she was pretty sure it would be earth shattering.
He held her gaze, waiting for her to make a decision, and she felt herself waver. She exhaled, a soft whimper escaping her throat. And then she tore her eyes from his and twisted to face the television. “Movie,” she whispered. “We should watch the movie.”
His arm was still around her, and she curled into him, laying her head back on his shoulder. She lifted her feet and tucked them under herself, her knees falling to the side, her shins pressing against his thigh.
He was still for a second, and she wondered if this was too much; if he wouldn’t want to hold her like this after she had just sent him a pretty clear message about the boundary of their relationship. And then he tightened his arm around her and sighed, resting his cheek against the top of her head and resuming his gentle stroking of her arm.
Soon, the tension between them bled away, and they were laughing and chatting as the movie progressed. She nestled close to him, his fingers tracing random designs on her shoulder and arm as watched.
When the first movie ended, she tensed, worried for a moment that he might take the opportunity to leave and head back to his hotel. She knew he needed to leave for the airport early —early enough that he had insisted on taking a cab so she wouldn’t have to get up early and drive him — and after their whirlwind weekend, she figured he might be tired and hoping to get a good night’s rest before he left.
“Up for number two?” she asked, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.
“Oh yeah,” he said, immediately. “We can’t just end there. You promised me a movie marathon.”
She grinned and stood, her heart fluttering at the feel of his hand trailing down her arm as she pulled away. She stepped over to the VCR and swapped out the tapes.
When she turned back around, he was mid stretch, hand clasped above his head, eyes closed, rolling his neck from side to side. Her eyes traveled slowly from his hands, down his arms, to his chest, where his t-shirt was pulled taut.
Unlike earlier, when she had studied his body and found herself breathless with desire, this time the desire was tempered with affection. He was so strong, yet he was the gentlest man she had ever met.
The way he held her, the way he touched her, was almost reverential. His touch was generous, without any hint of pressure. At the first sign of hesitation on her part, he backed away immediately, freeing her from his embrace or stepping away to give her space.
Her brain understood all the reasons they couldn’t be more than friends, but her stubborn heart ached as it tried to imagine a way to make it work.
She knew it wouldn’t take much on his part to push her over the edge, to convince her heart to make an impulsive decision she would certainly come to regret. And the fact that he responded to her obvious wavering by waiting patiently for her to give an indication of what she wanted, rather than persuading her to do what he wanted, only made her want him more.
Behind her, the TV flared to life with a movie preview, and he opened his eyes and caught her looking at him. She felt her cheeks warm as she shrugged and smiled at him. He smiled back, not a teasing grin, but with sweetness and understanding. He opened his arms to her in invitation, and she went to him without hesitation.
Instead of curling up beside him again, she rested her back against him, sliding down until she was comfortable and resting her bare feet on the coffee table in front of them. His arm around her shoulders dangled awkwardly, too close to him for him to rest his hand on her arm comfortably.
She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling his arm around her neck, his elbow resting at her shoulder, his hand just above her lap. She brought both hands to his, threading their fingers together and stroking the back of his hand with her free hand. Clark gave her a gentle squeeze, and she smiled and then sighed contentedly, settling in to watch the movie.
The movie opened, the red BMW screeching through city streets and into a tunnel while Mel Gibson exhorted Danny Glover to drive faster in pursuit, and Lois felt Clark chuckle behind her.
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
“I think they based this car chase scene on your driving,” he teased.
She made a sound of offended disbelief. “I am an excellent driver,” she insisted. “I’ll have you know I’ve never been in an accident. Okay, well, one accident. But that wasn’t my fault. The guy plowed right into me.”
“Did you go from doing eighty to a dead stop with no warning?”
She stifled a laugh, not wanting him to know how close he was to the truth. “I would never!”
He let it go, but as the movie progressed, they traded barbs and teasing comments, comparing each other to the onscreen partners’ least flattering characteristics. She couldn’t seem to wipe the grin from her face, unable to remember the last time she had so much fun doing something so simple.
But as the movie drew to a close, she felt herself start to shut down. It was late, and surely he would start talking soon about heading back to his hotel. Her heart ached, desperate for him to stay just a little longer, delaying the inevitable.
“Well, now you have to stay for the third,” she said, popping up to stand as the credits began to roll. “We can’t leave our marathon two thirds finished.”
She grabbed the last video, popping it from its black box and heading toward the tv, avoiding his gaze.
He didn’t respond for a minute, and she began to feel guilty. It was really late and he had an early flight. If he wanted to go, she shouldn’t pressure him into staying. She hit the rewind button on the VCR, and looked hesitantly over her shoulder, expecting to see him preparing to make his exit.
Instead, she found him gazing at her with a longing that matched her own.
“Yeah,” he agreed, the cheerfulness in his voice ringing hollow. “Definitely. We can’t stop now.”
She swallowed thickly and blinked, willing herself not to cry. They’d had a wonderful weekend. She wasn’t going to ruin it now with tears. Besides, he was only going to be out of touch for a few weeks. And she was going to be so busy while he was gone, she would barely have time to miss him. Before she knew it, he would be back in Smallville, and they would be back to their routine of daily emails and long, chatty phone calls on the weekends.
She turned back to the machine, ejecting one movie and replacing it with the next.
She turned slowly and made her way back to the couch. She sat beside him, cross legged, her knee pressed against his thigh, a little space between them for the first time all night. Her spine was straight, her body stiff, already imagining the goodbye that was coming. One more movie, and then he was gone.
She tried not to imagine it, but her heart knew that after this weekend, even having him back in Smallville would be hard. She loved his emails, full of chatty stories and teasing asides. She loved their long, late-night chats, diving deep into discussions about books or philosophy or their personal histories. And she was looking forward to a return to those things after his summer abroad. But now, having had him beside her, knowing what it could be like if they lived in the same city, even the knowledge that he would be home again in a month felt like cold comfort.
He slid his hand onto her thigh, just above her knee, and squeezed gently. His thumb stroked her skin gently, slowly, and she knew he was feeling the same reluctance to end their time together. She rested her head against his shoulder, and tried to focus on the movie, shoving aside all thoughts of goodbyes.
It was after midnight by the time they finished the third movie. At some point during the last movie, Lois had wound up on her back with a pillow under her head at one end of the couch, her legs laying across Clark’s lap. His hand closest to her rested on her thigh just above her knee, while his other hand had crept slowly, almost unconsciously, under the loose hem of her pants and was stroking her calf gently. The dark of the room, the drone of the television, and his soothing touch had lulled her almost to sleep by the time the credits began to roll.
“I should go,” he said quietly. “It’s late.”
“I’ll drive you back to your hotel,” she said drowsily.
He smiled at her, and squeezed her leg affectionately. “I’ll get a cab,” he said. “You’re almost asleep. I don’t want you driving.”
“That’s my Boy Scout,” she said, closing her eyes for just a minute, focusing on the feel of his touch against her leg. She realized belatedly exactly what she said, the way she claimed him.
She opened her eyes tentatively, not sure how he would react to that, and found him gazing at her, smiling sweetly. Her heart clenched. He was everything she had ever wanted. Smart and sweet and interesting and kind. And he treated her better than any man she had ever dated. She hated that there were so many miles between them, hated whatever force of fate had teased her with his existence, taunting her with what could have been in another lifetime.
“Come on,” he said softly, lifting her legs from his and gently swinging them to the side so she could plant her feet on the ground. “Up you go.”
He stood and reached out a hand to her. She took it, letting him pull her to standing. They walked together to her front door, lingering for a minute, neither of them quite ready to say good night.
She leaned against the door frame, looking up at him. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “For this whole weekend. I’m so glad you came.”
“Lois,” he said, his voice thick with the words he wasn’t saying. “I had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting me. We should do it again.”
She nodded, wanting to do it again every weekend for the rest of her life. She felt the tears prick at her eyes, and he shook his head.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do, what to say…”
“I’m sorry,” she said, swiping at her eyes and giving him a watery smile. “We had such a nice weekend, and now I’m ruining it.”
He reached out and cupped her cheek, a motion that was coming to feel all too familiar. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. When she opened them again, he was gazing at her.
“You aren’t ruining anything,” he said gently. “I don’t want to go either. But…”
“This weekend just went so fast,” she said, trying to steady herself. “And now you’re going to be gone for a whole month. I don’t suppose you’ll have email access in Borneo.”
He laughed softly, withdrawing his hand and letting it fall to his side. “No, no email in Borneo. But I’ll call you as soon as I get back, I promise.”
She nodded, hushing the voice in her mind that told her that wasn’t enough. “It’s late,” she said. “Sorry you won’t get much sleep before your trip.”
He shook his head, dismissing her apology. “It was worth it,” he said softly.
She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. She could feel his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and imprinting the smell of him on her heart.
Finally, she pulled back, and he relaxed his arms immediately, freeing her. She hesitated, and then leaned forward again, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Good night, Clark,” she said, leaning back against the door frame and letting her hands slide down his chest to rest gently against his stomach.
“Good night, Lois,” he said softly, and she saw him think, and then think twice, about kissing her. Then he nodded to her one last time, and reached for the door. “Don’t forget to lock these after I leave.”
She cracked a smile, the tension between them eased just a bit. “I never forget to lock my door, farm boy,” she teased. “This isn’t Smallville.”
He beamed at her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. And then he nodded a final goodbye and slipped out the door.
She fastened each of the locks slowly, and then turned and leaned back against the door and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.
Last edited by AnnieM; 06/16/22 10:40 AM.
