When KSaraSara posted her nfic challenge about how Clark and Lois would have found out that pasta affects Clark in a certain way, this scene came to mind. I didn't use it for that purpose, because it didn't feel right i on second thought. But it was something I wanted to explore anyway. I always thought that the series just skimmed over this whole Superman has an illegitimate child thing. They could have done so much more with the premise. This deals with one aspect of the fallout. And no, I posted this on the right side of the boards, because no matter how much I wanted to push out favorite couple in the direction of the dark side of the boards, they didn't want to go there. I know how to take a hint.
So here you go with some angst some fluff. Hope you'll enjoy The End Of The Fight"Lois." A hint of exasperation tints Clark's voice as he opens the door.
My throat runs dry as I take in his muscular arms. The faded shirt does little to hide his impressive chest and for a moment there I have a hard time remembering why I'm here.
With some effort I drag my eyes up and look into his face. And the momentarily forgotten sense of unease is back with a vengeance.
I can see Clark is trying to smile for me. But the attempt falls flat. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, a far cry from his usual thousand watts.
"Come on in," he says roughly.
With a slight huff - is it annoyance or resignation? - he steps aside. Anguish flashes across his features before he schools them back into a mask of indifference that rivales the one of this morning.
"Clark." I don't know what else to say.
Instead I try to put all the shame and sympathy I feel into my gaze, hoping to get across how deeply sorry I am.
The past few days have been a disaster neither of us handled well. I hurt him, probably worse than I even realized. After what happened at the Planet this morning, I know I have to fix it somehow. It was bad enough that I'd started to doubt him. Clark would never sire and then abandon a child. But instead of dismissing the accusations…
My stomach drops. That hasn't been one of my best days.
Clark runs his hand through his hair, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if he, too, would just love to dispel the awkwardness between us. Like me, he doesn't seem to know how.
"I thought a pizza and a movie would be nice." I lift up the carton of pizza and the stack of videos I brought, sort of as a peace offering. I'm not sure how they're supposed to solve anything, though.
Once again Clark smiles his half-hearted smile for me and takes the pizza from my hand. "Yeah, sure, sounds great."
His feigned enthusiasm is anything but convincing. Perhaps I should call him out on it. Or would the prudent approach be to offer quiet support until he feels ready to talk to me? Torn between these options I stand frozen on his porch and I need a moment before I can bring myself to move.
At least he's at home. That should count for something. Whenever I tried to broach the subject at work, he deflected my attempts. And he may have been right, too. Because regardless of the perfect timing, this is a conversation best held in private. So I finally take the few steps into his apartment and feel his hand in the small of my back, warm and reassuring though it really should be the other way around.
As I prepare to sit on his sofa, a renewed sense of helplessness washes over me. Eating pizza and watching a movie seem like a pathetic attempt at helping Clark. It's like treating a scraped knee with candy, when I should better tend to the wound.
My throat tightens even more as my thoughts drift back to this morning's staff meeting. By some cruel twist of fate Clark was early, probably because he'd been up all night as Superman rescuing people from a flood and a resulting landslide on the other side of the world.
"Would you like some wine?" Clark pulls me from my thoughts.
"Sure." I feel relief and cringe at my automatic response.
More candy to smother the pain I saw in his eyes. And in Clark's case the wine won't even have any of that mellowing effect. It might help me to feel better. But what about him?
Clark gives a brief nod and leaves to get glasses and a bottle of wine. I leave the stack of videos on the table and drop down on his sofa, burying my head in my hands. Immediately, my mind pulls up the memories of the grueling staff meeting.
"Hey, Kent, do you think he's ever done it?" Ralph leans back in his chair, a leer on his face that makes my stomach turn.
Clark closes the door of the conference room behind him, pulls up a chair and sits down while everyone's attention is on him.
"Who's done what?" Clark asks, puzzled.
"Come on, Ralph." I narrow my eyes on the Daily Planet's resident gossip, willing him to let the matter drop. "Who cares?"
Ralph ignores my warning. "Well, I, for one. Just thinking about…" He wrinkles his nose. "I mean, Superman's a great guy and all, but he's also an alien. And him having sex with our women? That's kinda gross!"
My breath hitches. Clark pales and I can see the effort it takes him to keep his expression neutral. I wish I'd had a chance to warn him. I wish Perry would already be here or Jimmy, because I'm sure Ralph wouldn't dare to gossip if they were-- But there are just the few guys around who enjoy this type of conversation, and me, and a very hapless Clark who unsuspectingly stumbled into this nightmare.
The discussion has been all over the news since yesterday, right next to reports of the flood in India Superman helped with all day and night.
Seeing that Clark's hair is still damp, he probably came right to work after taking nothing but a quick shower. He looks worn out, like he didn't have the luxury to catch up on some sleep. I can tell from the haunted look in his eyes that he'd be in desperate need of a hug even without Ralph's disgusting statement.
"So, what about you, Kent?" Ralph doesn't give up. "Do you think it would be right for him to *screw* our women?"
Ralph's smirk makes me want to smash my first into his stupid face.
Clark's voice is calm if slightly strangled. "I think that's none of our business."
As I look at him, I can see a muscle in his jaw twitch. His whole body has gone rigid. Anger is radiating off him in waves, tightly hidden behind a mask of indifference, yet tangible for everyone but the insensitive guys sitting around the table. The sound of shattering glass yanks me out of my memory.
“Shoot!” Clark’s yell echoes off the walls.
Startled, I look at him and he stares back at me like a deer in headlights. I do a double take as I see dark red fluid running down his right arm. My heart skips a beat because Clark wouldn’t bleed, and now he does and therefore something has to be terribly wrong and the paleness of his face… It takes a moment to calm my suddenly racing heart when I realize that the fluid on Clark’s arm isn’t blood but red wine.
The bottle lies broken on the floor.
Clark casts his eyes down and self-consciously wipes his hand dry on his shirt. His motions are hasty as if he doesn't want me to be privy to his mistake. But all he accomplishes is spreading the tell-tale red stains all over the fabric. Then he slips his hands into the pockets of his pants, stops half-way and winces before he gingerly pulls them back.
I'm not sure what's going on here, why he's acting all weird over dropping a bottle. But if there was an uncomfortable tension before, it's been amped up by a million times it seems.
Clark's wide eyes cloud over. His jaw works as he presses his lips into a tight line while he's struggling for a position to keep his arms in. Eventually he settles for crossing them in front of his chest.
“Lois, I'm sorry," His voice cracks as he tries to meet my gaze but fails. "I don't think this is the best time for pizza and a movie.”
I try to make sense of his words. Does he want me to leave? The firm setting of his jaw, his whole body language scream a definite "yes."
"Clark!" I choke.
I don't quite get what's happening here. Just a moment ago it seemed like he too was trying to repair the damage my mistrust had done to our relationship. I really thought we were on the right path, on the same page, however you want to call it. But obviously he forgives not quite as easily as I led myself to believe.
A rush of sadness washes over me.
Why should he? I'd been ready to believe the worst.
"Please, don't make me go!" I manage past the suffocating lump in my throat. "I know I'm not exactly your favorite person after the past few days, but-"
The shake of his head cuts me off. He bites his lower lip and his expression softens into the most sheepish I have ever seen on him.
"You are my favorite person," he whispers. "Which is why you should go now…" He squeezes his eyes shut as if what he's going to say next causes him physical pain. A tremor runs through him. "I don't trust myself with you tonight, Lois. Please, just go. We'll see each other tomorrow."
I stare at him flabbergasted. "But it's just pizza and a movie and maybe some talking…" Tears prick in my eyes, because I can sense he's trying to shut me out again. "Clark, I know you're hurting and I just want to make it better than I did."
I jump up and close the distance between us, but he takes a step back and shakes his head again. His whole body trembles like that of a scared child.
“Don’t,” he whispers. “I can’t do this right now.”
My heart goes out to him. There is no denying just how much he’s hurting. I want to pull him into a hug. But as I step closer, he retreats.
“Please,” I beg him. “Don’t shut me out. Tell me what’s going on.”
He bites down on his lower lip so hard that I'm beginning to wonder if he can make himself bleed. His silence lasts and I'm not sure he’s going to answer my question. But eventually, he releases a breath and shuffles his feet. A deep blush tints his cheeks.
“They’re still talking about Superman and whether it’s appropriate for him to engage in intimacy with a human woman,” he mutters. “When I pulled that bottle from the wine rack, the TV in the apartment two floors below mine breached my barriers. That's when I broke the bottle.”
He can’t look at me.
“Hey…" I reach out and take another step toward him. "It's okay. If I'd heard something like that, I probably would have dropped the bottle too. These people are just stupid and -"
The look in his eyes makes my throat so tight that I can't continue.
Years of pain flash across his face. And right at this moment I understand just how alienated he must feel.
"No, you don't understand. I didn't drop the bottle. It snapped in my hands when I heard…" A heavy sigh escapes his lips before he looks up at me again. "Remember when you complained that all these years I pretended not to be able to open a jar, even though I’m actually Superman?"
I nod confused, not quite sure what he's trying to get at. "What has that to do with anything?"
"Well, most of the time it's not a pretense," he mumbles. "There are days when I really don’t know how to get these things to open without crushing them like I just did this bottle. Days like this one. That’s why I’m asking you to leave. I thought I could handle this – that a pizza and a movie were just what I needed to feel like myself again."
There's a longing in his gaze and his right arm twitches in the stranglehold of those firmly crossed arms.
"But it doesn’t work that way.”
Even with his arms crossed in front of his chest he looks utterly forlorn. The stance should be familiar because he does it all the time as Superman. But right now, it’s difficult to spot the hero in my partner.
“What are you going to do now?”
He cracks a weak smile and shrugs it off. “Blow off some steam I guess. Don’t worry this isn’t the first time my emotions get the better of me. I'll be fine. I’m just sorry that I can’t spend the evening with you.”
His expression turns wistful and his hand twitches, as if he’d love nothing more than to reach out and touch me. But then he grimaces and grips his arms tighter until his knuckles turn white.
I feel cold all of a sudden. Is it always going to be like this? Will Clark leave for some place where he can’t hurt anyone whenever he has to deal with intense emotions?
It seems so wrong and not just because I've never pictured Superman as someone who’d vent his anger in a burst of violence or whatever it is he’s going to do once he’s alone. Yet he’s standing in one corner of his apartment, clutching his arms around himself as if he is afraid he’s going to explode if he doesn’t keep it together. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more in need of a hug than tonight.
I don’t
want to leave him.
“It’s not fair,” I whisper.
He lowers his gaze. “I’m sorry, Lois. I know this is not the best moment for me to lose it. And I should have told you about this earlier. It’s not something that happens often if that’s any consolation, but…”
He shuffles his feet again and I’m dying to just wrap my arms around him because it’s killing me to see him suffer like that. My stupid jealousy and my stupid trust issues! I should have been there for him through this whole, ludicrous debacle.
His voice is hoarse as he continues. “If this is too much to deal with, I’d understand.” He stares at his feet, defeated like someone who's just taken a beating.
I
can’t leave him like that.
“That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t have to deal with this on your own.”
His eyes widen. "I can't hurt you. You mean too much to me."
There's a gleam in them, this kind of raw honesty that made me trust Clark almost from the moment I first saw him. He's lied to me countless times, I know. But like he said, it always was just about one thing and that's a secret he had every right to guard safely. The awful debate on the news proved just how much Superman needs and deserves to be that normal man when he's not out rescuing someone.
And I have a sinking feeling there's also something else he's trying to assure me of and the realization almost feels like a dagger through my heart. I stifle a gasp as it dawns on me that in the light of most recent discussions he might interpret my desire to wait for our wedding night as a sign that I'm afraid of being intimate with Superman.
"There has to be another way," I say hoarsely. "Please Clark, let me be there for you and help you forget about all the awful things Ralph said. They're not true. And I'm so sorry about everything
I said to you."
"Oh, Lois." His tense expression gives way to a tender smile and his arm twitches as if he's dying to reach out. But then he grimaces again and hugs himself tighter. "I'm not angry at you. It's okay, it really is. After the past few days, with all these rescues and false accusations I just need some time alone to get my bearings. It's no big deal. If it weren't for the superpowers…"
He gives a helpless shrug and looks even more uncomfortable than he already did. I feel anger well up inside of me. Why is he being so stubborn? Why does he refuse my help? Is this some guy thing? Or does he have a good reason to send me away?
Coming to think about it, he's never asked me to leave before.
What would happen if I stayed?
I'm not even sure what I'm suggesting to help him relax beyond the pizza and the movie he said wouldn't work. After the harrowing few days he's had I can imagine why
that might not be enough to calm his frayed nerves. What do I really know about his powers? There's so much we still need to figure out as a couple.
My voice is hoarse. "I don't want you to run off whenever things get difficult." I want him to find solace in my arms, but I don't dare to say that out loud.
Clark looks flustered and rakes a hand through his hair. "You know I'm not running off because things are difficult. I'm just afraid that this broken bottle won't be the last of it. When my hearing kicks back in…" He heaves a sigh.
"I admit, I
am angry. The things they say about me without knowing…"
He shakes his head and swallows. Still, he tries to smile for me, his eyes somewhat watery and full of regret. I want to take care of him because I know that if places were reversed he'd take care of me. Ever since I've met him, he's been there for me. He deserves that same courtesy from me, even if I forgot about that while I was so hurt and confused about this child who could fly.
Without really thinking about my next step, I close the distance between us and pull Clark into a tight hug. I can feel him flinch. He looks startled and I smirk at his expression, because it’s not every day you manage to surprise the Man of Steel.
“Lois!” His sigh is half one of exasperation and half one of contentment.
“Forget about them,” I whisper into his ear. “Don’t let these voices get to you. Let me help you relax, Clark. Please, I don’t want you to fly off and deal with all these emotions on your own.”
Because they’re also my fault. I don’t say it. I know he doesn’t want me to, because he doesn’t see it that way and it’s so incredibly sweet of him. But it doesn’t change what I did to him.
“I wish it were that easy, Lois,” he mumbles into my shoulder.
My heart skips a beat and my throat tightens. Was I naive to think that he’d forgiven me, that somehow he’d understood what kind of havoc my past experiences with men had wreaked in my brain? I take in a sharp breath and try to find the words to tell him again how sorry I am.
“I’m afraid.”
His whispered words confuse me. I look at him, not sure what he’s talking about any more. A blush creeps across his cheeks.
“Honestly? I want nothing more than to lose myself in your embrace.”
Despite his words, I can feel him pull back, which feels a little awkward, because he doesn’t use his hands to disentangle himself from my arms which I have firmly wrapped around his shoulders.
His voice is raspy. “But enticing though it may be, touching you seems like a bad idea, right now.”
He licks his lips a if trying to get moisture back in them and averts his gaze. I can feel he’s torn between his wish to stay in my arms and to leave so that he can be alone with the turmoil of his emotions.
“Then don’t touch me.” I lean my head against his shoulder and breathe in his soft, clean masculine scent. “Let me touch you, let me help you to feel good about yourself and…” My breath catches in my throat as I hear myself say these words and realize all the implications that come with such an offer. “Er, I mean -”
I take in another sharp breath because this wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t come here offering pizza and a movie as a first step to seducing Clark. I haven’t really thought any of this through and now I struggle for something to say that won’t sound like I’m completely opposed to the idea, but -
“I know what you mean.” He lets out a light chuckle and with a trembling hand reaches out to very carefully brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m not expecting anything beyond that, Scout’s honor.”
His finger travels down my cheek, his touch so light I barely feel it. Yet it sends tingles across my skin and suddenly I wish this would really be the start of something more. A long, wistful moan leaves his throat and he rests his forehead against mine. Already I feel a slight jerk of his body, as if he’s preparing to pull back again.
I lay my hands on his shoulders. “Please, let’s give this a try.”
He looks up at me, his eyes gleaming with love and affection. Slowly he nods. But then, suddenly, he squeezes his eyes shut and takes deep, shaky breaths. His hands become tight fists and he lets out a low groan. I can only guess it’s the TV in the neighbor’s apartment or some radio station. I don’t even want to imagine what this is like for him. Unlike other people, he has no real chance to get away from it all, unless he travels to outer space, perhaps.
“I’m not sure how this is supposed to work,” Clark grounds out.
“Forget about all of this.” I capture his face between my hands and place a fierce kiss on his lips.
He seems stunned, still tense and for a moment there I’m not sure I’m the right person for this. We made up just a few weeks ago after he broke up with me for my own good. I had just asked him to marry me before this whole disaster happened and I don’t really know how to be a good fiancée. Until this point, it was mostly Clark kissing me senseless and me being swept off my feet because there’s no way to remain unaffected by the fire in him.
Does he even feel these things like I do? Is it even possible to kiss the Man of Steel in a way that will make him forget about everything around him? He’s invulnerable after all, except for his tender soul. And how am I supposed to sweep him off his feet when every single man in my past is proof that being passionate is just not in my nature?
But then his lips part and the tension seeps out of his taught shoulders. I can practically feel him shrink. He holds back, I can sense it as I start exploring his mouth. His tongue greets mine ever so slightly, and a low moan escapes from deep within his throat. But it no longer sounds pained, like it did before. It only fuels my desire to make this the best, most passionate kiss I’m capable of. I want his knees to grow weak and his ears to tune into my heartbeat alone until he forgets that there are other people in the world.
But as he gradually turns a little bolder, deepening the kiss just a bit it’s me who loses touch with reality. I don’t even notice how breathless he makes me until, eventually, he pulls back.
“Wow.” His expression is slightly dazed, a smile forming on his lips that hasn’t been there before.
I feel a pang of pride as I realize that my kiss had this effect on him. The resulting rush of excitement is intoxicating and suddenly, I want more of that.
“Now, you sit down on your couch and keep your hands to yourself. No touching!”
He nods solemnly, but quirks his brows as if he’s curious where this is going. To be honest, I’m not quite sure about this either. But perhaps that's just what building up a relationship is all about, to gradually find out how it works.
Clark gingerly lowers himself onto his sofa and I snatch the carton of pizza from his table. I told him no hands. I suppose the pizza wouldn't be in much danger of falling victim to his powers. But a strange rush of excitement fills me as I imagine myself feeding him.
For a moment neither of us is moving. We look at each other, unsure how to proceed.
My throat runs dry and I swallow hard as I watch him sitting on his couch. His dark eyes rest on me, his gaze warm, tender and awash with desire. I don't think anyone else has ever looked at me like that.
The men I've been with? I've seen the hunger in their eyes, and as they looked at me I felt like a piece of meat rather than a person. I thought that was just a sign that more primal thoughts had taken over. With Clark, it's different. His love for me is tangible, a comforting blanket around my shoulders.
With a sudden bout of boldness, I move toward him and sit down straddling his lap.
"Lois." His sharp intake of breath turns to a low groan from deep within his throat. "What are you doing?”
I grin at him. “What does it look like?”
“You're killing me here."
"You're invulnerable. So suck it up.” The way he looks at me, as if he’s forgotten about the whole world around him just because I sit on his lap gives me a sense of power that is beyond exciting. I wiggle my hips, eliciting another groan from him. “You're not supposed to use your hands, which means I have to feed you. It's easier this way."
"I can handle the pizza,” he whispers huskily. “I'm not so sure I can handle you, though."
His eyes have darkened. I can feel him adjusting his position in a desperate attempt to hide that my sitting on his lap is beginning to affect him. Frankly, he’s not the only one. Who even cares about pizza?
I capture his lips in a fierce kiss. Suddenly all I want is to be closer to him and make sure that whatever got between us is no longer a problem. I need him to know that I’m not afraid of this or afraid of him. The feeling of his lips on mine is as intoxicating as the first time he really kissed me so long ago in the honeymoon suite. I could get lost in him, even though I can tell he’s holding back, like he was holding back then.
I turn my head and let my lips travel across his cheek until I whisper in his ear. “Tell me, are you still hearing things you shouldn’t?”
I regret the words the moment I said them. What if I’m not enough? What if-
“Only if you didn't want me to notice that your breath just caught and your heart is racing.” He runs cautious fingers through my hair and brushes a light kiss on my cheek. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But you don’t have to prove anything to me. You know that don’t you? It’s okay if we wait, it’s okay to be scared.” He swallows and his lips open a few times as if he’s fighting with words. “I’m scared, too.”
“I’m not scared of you, Clark.” More like scared of my own boldness and all the other ways I could fail him after I really sucked at dealing with our first relationship crisis. “I just want to make things better than I did.”
“I had lied to you for years before you found out about my secret,” he says quietly. “It’s really no wonder you suspected that I would have kept something like having a kid from you, too. Especially given your past experiences with men.”
My throat is tight. “But I should have known better. I should have known
you better.”
“We’re still getting to know each other as a couple.” He smiles with all his thousand watts. “And as much as I long to explore intimacy with you, I really think it’s nothing we’re supposed to rush.”
“Are you still afraid of hurting me?”
He shakes his head. “I think I’m good now. Your treatment was pretty effective.”
I pout. “I was just getting started.”
“Yeah, and my head is still spinning, believe me.” He cups my cheek and caresses my skin with his thumb. "Thank you, Lois."
"What for? All I manage is to drive you crazy."
"And that's exactly what I needed. Thanks for not letting me leave."
He leans in and once again I feel his lips on mine in a tender kiss. It's less needy, less fervent, but in a way so much richer than what we shared before. I just know this is the beginning of something special.
A silly smile is on his lips as we part. "I'm about ready for pizza and a movie. What do you say?"
"Don't you want…?" My throat runs dry and suddenly I feel self-conscious.
"Oh, I do want."
He kisses me again, with all the passion he's capable of. I lose myself in the feel of his lips on me. There's no mistaking his desire for me. And for a moment there I think it's going to happen after all.
But then he pulls back. "When we're both ready. Let's enjoy a night in and see where it leads us. Don't rush this because you think you have to. I'll wait as long as it takes. Though you might want to consider a change of position if you expect me to stick to that promise."
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my face in the crook of his neck. "I love you."
"Love you, too."
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