Story TOCChapter 2“You’d think there’d be
some games on this stupid houseboat,” Lois groused. She was methodically opening and shutting all the cabinets and drawers she could find on Kennebrew's modest little houseboat, searching desperately for anything that would qualify as entertainment.
“Lois, why don't you come sit down? We can just talk?” Clark suggested gently.
She continued to hunt, though with each empty cabinet, it was becoming increasingly apparent that her search was going to be anything but fruitful. She was intent on keeping Clark distracted, his thoughts off of Luthor and his fear that she was somehow in mortal danger. She'd never seen him so rattled.
She was trying hard not to be nervous; she was Lois Lane, threats were a steady constant in her life. But there was something about the way Clark had reacted when she'd told him about Luthor. She hadn't trusted Clark’s warnings about Lex after he’d destroyed the Daily Planet and wooed her into marrying him, and he'd been right. About all of it. So she was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, and...well, the sight of his distress tugged at her heart in a way she was entirely unfamiliar with.
She rambled on as if she wasn't having such serious thoughts. “And if he's not living here, is ‘houseboat’ even an accurate term? Maybe it's just a really fancy boat, not big enough to be a yacht, lots of upgrades. I mean...” She gestured at the expertly lit and furnished tank beside her. “He has fish. A fish tank. On a boat. Who does that? Who feeds these fish?” Fish on a boat
was odd, actually.
Lois heard Clark murmur something cheerful and optimistic behind her, and honestly, she really should be listening, but she was desperate to find something to entertain them. She scanned the tall bookshelves as her thoughts about their burgeoning relationship ran through her mind. She'd wanted to make the most of this night—they were alone, together, without interruption—well, stakeouts usually had interruptions, but they also guaranteed a ton of down time.
Earlier, Clark had offhandedly remarked how watching a lawyer get ready for bed was far less exciting than Pearl Jam would have been, and that feeling had tugged at her heart again. Something unnamed, but tender, along with the unexpected ache of loss at the fact that their first date had been put on hold because of her evil ex-fiancé.
She couldn't let it happen—so here she'd declared it their almost-first date. And so far, the idea had seemed to calm Clark, distract him. But how were they supposed to have an almost-first date if they didn't have any entertainment?
They'd played games when they were undercover in the honeymoon suite, and that had been...well, that had been far more fun than she had wanted to admit at the time. And that kiss...had been subterfuge, for cover. It's not like they could just...kiss until their food delivery arrived...
Nope. Not thinking about the kiss. Not now on their almost-first date. No, when they kissed for the first time—for real—she wanted it to be...magical. Definitely not just something to pass the time.
Even though she felt strongly that kissing Clark would be a phenomenal way to pass the time. Not to mention it would be highly distracting for both of them—no room for thoughts of threats or danger.
“Lois?”
“Yes, Clark?” she asked without looking up from her crouched position. She had found another bank of cupboards on the other side of the room and was ransacking her way through the remainder.
“I don’t think there are going to be any games. Perry said Kennebrew was a hedge fund manager who didn't see a lot of time outside of the office. And he called this his ‘hideaway,’ which gave me the impression he uses it to, well...do things he wants to hide, maybe from his wife. So...” he finished, a little awkwardly, “I’m sure board games are the last thing on his mind when he actually gets to use his boat.”
“Huh,” she said thoughtfully. “So what you’re saying is, I probably shouldn’t go rummaging around in the bedside tables?”
He laughed heartily at that for a moment.
“Yes, Lois. I guess that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he agreed. And then he smiled at her like he had absolutely no right to smile at her.
Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson, and she knew there was no hiding it. She wasn’t sure if it was the besotted way he was looking at her, or the suggestion of scandalous activities that were newly on the menu—which they were certainly nowhere near ready for. But suddenly her body was betraying her on all fronts and she had to get a handle on it.
Her eyes darted about the shelving within the confines of the houseboat, the sound of her thudding heart still deafening in her ears. She wondered if he could sense the effect he was having on her. Thank goodness he didn’t have super hearing.
And actually, she thought, making a show of scanning all the shelves while she recovered, she supposed Clark
did have a right to smile at her like that. He’d asked her out. She’d said yes.
And now, they weren’t just partners, they weren’t just best friends, they were dating. Well, almost dating.
Dating Clark.
She was almost-dating Clark.
She’d seen his hesitation yesterday, after she’d been so unsure and indecisive when he’d first asked. That was the other reason why she had insisted on this being their almost-first date. When she'd finally had a chance to sit with the idea, she realized she wanted to go out with him. Really wanted to go out with him. Desperately.
She looked over at Clark, who had become immersed in the file on Lex and Bender that Jimmy had put together. He always knew when to give her space. She could tell he was letting her work out her nervous energy on the cabinets and drawers on the other side of the room.
She wished she could tell him that she wasn’t nervous; not about him. Her feelings for Clark had changed a long time ago—they had begun untangling right there on her wedding day, when she'd stood in her too-lavish designer gown for a marriage to the wrong man. And all she’d been able to think about was Clark.
Even though Clark took back his declaration in the park, something had shifted between them since that time. Their touches throughout the workdays had evolved into something comforting, something more, something she craved. Her feelings became harder to deny, harder to conceal. And after Clark was nearly killed, she knew for sure. And now, on the brink of...well, everything, Lex was back.
Lex. Somewhere deep down, she had always known her engagement to him was all an impressively elaborate exercise in keeping her heart safe. Superman, too, had been a distraction, an easy fantasy to keep her heart insulated, protected. Lex was dangerous, but not to her heart. A relationship with Clark, she realized, was the riskiest. If she lost him, she would lose everything.
So she’d hesitated in the moment when he’d finally asked her out, needing to quiet the sheer panic that came with the feeling that she could lose him. Knowing rationally that at some point, it would have to come to this, if they were ever to move beyond this undefined coziness they had safely labeled ‘best friends.’
“It looks like Gretchen Kelly and Bender had a meeting two weeks ago,” Clark said, interrupting her reverie.
“Really? Well, that explains a few things. I guess that means we are well-placed, even if we are spending our almost-first date stuck on a houseboat with no games,” Lois grumbled, admitting defeat in her search.
“Just...come have some more champagne, Lois. The food will be here in a little bit.”
Her eyes landed on a stack of newspapers on a table by the door. “Oh, look, Clark! Newspapers!” she announced, snatching the stack of papers in her hands and finally turning to face him.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Newspapers, Lois?”
“Sure, look! My byline is even on the front page of this one.” She held up the stack so he could see the one on the top of the pile, tapping her finger against the newsprint.
“Lois, when isn't your byline on the front page?” he said, his bemused grin making her stomach flutter all over again.
“Well, it’s not
every day,” she insisted. She walked over to the couch where he was sitting, standing awkwardly in front of him. Absolutely not thinking about how, earlier, she'd been sprawled atop him with her hand against his firm muscles underneath his wet shirt. Or how their faces had been inches apart, and for a split second, just like on Christmas Eve, she was certain he wanted to kiss her. She cleared her throat. “We’re on special assignments, and those are bigger articles that we just can’t churn out every day.”
“Uh huh,” he agreed in that tone that always meant he was just humoring her, but he was grinning up at her with a devastating smile.
Her heart flip-flopped; she swallowed as she forged on, “It’s still a bit of coincidence, don’t you think?” And her heart did another flip, this time not as pleasant, as she took note of the actual words in the headline. “This is the Kyle Griffin story,” she murmured, settling in next to him on the sofa.
Clark was quiet, but he reached out to give her shoulder a light squeeze, letting his fingers linger just a bit on her back. It was comforting, like always, but heightened by the flush of warmth she got from his touch.
She had the urge to fill the silence with more words, but she also couldn’t ignore the flashes of memories from Griffin’s torment and threats as they filtered in. “I don't know why everyone is always out to kill me,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about Lex. I know you were worried. I’m sorry I wasn’t taking the threat seriously.”
“It’s okay, Lois. I’m sorry if I was too domineering earlier. I just worry because I care. Lex is dangerous. Especially to you. He’s ruthless, vindictive, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And it worries me that he’s back, and the only thing he seems to want is...you.”
She cast a glance sideways at him. She knew Clark had always harbored a deep hatred for Lex. And this morning she had wondered if there was a lingering jealousy there, something unresolved from that time when things were so awkward between them.
He let that settle for a moment before murmuring, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, Lois.”
Her gaze captured his, and she laid her hand on his arm with a reassuring squeeze. “I know.”
Lois swore she could hear him suck in a breath, and when he leaned closer, his leg was pressed against hers, and she wondered if it was intentional.
She pulled her shoulders back a bit, skimming the Griffin story. “That thing he did with the phone was pretty scary. I almost forgot about that. Good thing I've always got my bodyguard close by,” she said softly.
He seemed to mirror her, straightening his shoulders back as well. “Yes, Superman does seem to have your number, Lois,” he replied, but something faltered in his voice.
“I didn’t mean Superman, Clark.”
“Oh.” He put his hands on his knees as though he wasn't sure what to do with them.
“I slept soundly for the first time in days on your sofa that night,” she admitted. “And even before that, you were protecting me, right?” she reflected, as if she was realizing all of this for the very first time. “Barbara Trevino, Mr. Makeup. You slept outside my apartment that night, didn’t you?” she asked him, her voice quiet as she pieced the story together aloud.
His silence confirmed her suspicions.
“And then Lex. And Kyle. You're always looking out for me,” she said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear.
“Always, Lois,” he breathed.
Their eyes met fully for just a second, and it felt like the world had stopped right there in that moment, as if the universe had been waiting for her to have this epiphany—that he had always protected her, unobtrusively. And she’d welcomed it without thinking—expected it, even, as sure as she expected him to bring her coffee every morning—because it had just felt so easy, and so safe to not look beyond the surface. To not see the very real devotion behind it.
And then the world started to turn again, her heart slamming into her chest at the intensity of the moment.
She watched him swallow thickly, and then a grin spread slowly across his face, his eyes twinkling. “Can’t let anything happen to the
Planet’s front page byline,” he teased, saving her yet again, this time from the awkwardness he somehow must have known was too much for her.
Maybe it was too much for him, too. Would it be wrong to hope for awkwardness, wrong to hope that they were on more of a level playing field when it came to how nervous she was about the prospect of dating, a relationship with him? She swallowed too and focused back on her hands, which were still clutching the stack of newspapers, albeit a smidge tighter than minutes ago.
She chanced another look at his face. He was still grinning. Waiting patiently for her. And she realized with a smile that she’d rescued him too. Hardly a trace of his earlier anxiety remained, right here in this moment. She pushed any lingering thoughts of this morning out of her mind and focused on the amazing man with the gorgeous smile in front of her.
Holding the newspapers up as if they were some sort of fascinating prize on a game show, she announced, “Guess what newspapers also have, Clark? So many fun things. Horoscopes...Dear Abby...and crosswords!”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Lois, we
WORK at a newspaper. We literally wrote this newspaper.”
“Yeah, but... I’ll bet you didn't even know all the things our newspaper has to offer the casual reader. Believe it or not, some people don’t want to hear about murderous cyborgs and mad scientists, Clark. Some people, like my sister, buy the
Planet just to find out if her...planets...her...moons and stars...or whatever are in alignment with her latest boyfriend’s planets.”
His mouth twitched, working overtime to suppress his...was it delight? Did he find her adorable when she nervously babbled herself over the edge, spilling over the brink of sanity like this? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop herself; she needed to find a place to land.
“And there’s the word jumble! You know, people were very upset when that got bumped for that nut job Carlin’s column. But it’s back now.”
Both his eyebrows raised this time, giving her that beguiled, Lois-has-completely-lost-it look. Then he schooled his expression into one of confusion. “Have you seen Lois? You know, my partner? She was just here a second ago...”
She scrunched up her face at him. “Oh, haha, Clark. I was just trying to think of something to...entertain us.”
He held his hands up in defeat, his eyes still twinkling at her. She desperately wanted to kiss him. Had his eyes always twinkled so much? “Okay, you win, Lois. What should we attempt first?”
She rewarded his conciliation with a wide smile and folded open the newspaper to the back, scooting closer when she realized her cushion was completely soaked with champagne. Ohh, she was close to him; she could feel his body heat as her arm brushed his, or maybe it was warm in the houseboat. Suddenly, she was feeling a little...not exactly self-conscious, but incredibly aware of his body in relation to hers. Which was ridiculous; she sat this close to him all the time.
He shifted a bit and his thigh grazed against hers. Her eyes flitted to the point of contact, and when she looked up, she found he'd been looking as well. He gave her a hesitant smile before his eyes darted back to the paper. He was feeling it too, she realized. Suddenly, she felt warm all over.
“Here!” he said, almost a little too cheerfully. “We can start with the crossword.”
And how—how had they managed to get to this point, the point where every touch and every gaze seemed to be charged with so much more meaning, right in the middle of a huge story? Is this what it would be like day in and day out, working side by side as a couple? How would they ever get anything done? She needed something to refocus her mind...and her body.
“Oh, I have an idea!” she said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “We can make a game out of this—I’ll take across and you take down? And we'll see who wins?”
She looked over and found him with a lopsided smirk on his face. “Always with the competitions. You’re determined to be the winner, aren’t you?”
She paused a moment, then eyed him mischievously. “You bet your sweet chumpy, I am.”
His bark of laughter seemed to resonate warmly through her own chest, which made her giggle at her own expense, and suddenly all the tension left the room, putting them back on solid ground. He reached down to where his messenger bag was sitting on the floor and grabbed a pencil, then made a show of settling in to read the first clue aloud for her.
As they took turns, Lois kept stealing glances at Clark. Had he always looked at her this much? Smiled at her this much? She suspected he had, but she just hadn't taken the time to notice...or, really, if she was honest with herself, maybe it just hadn’t meant as much. The flirtatious banter, little looks, little touches—they could never lead anywhere before; their friendship was too precious, too secure.
Now? They were skating thrillingly on the brink of a relationship. And although she was nervous, she was starting to see that she might not have needed to worry so much, especially given her realization of just how much he was always there for her, keeping her safe. Making her feel safe.
And she really liked this, hanging out with him like this. It was so much like the other times they’d spent time together, except there was something more now...as if using the word ‘date’ had somehow given her heart permission to skitter wildly about her chest when he smiled.
“Eleven across, ooh...” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her. “Food to induce arousal.”
Lois felt a flush of warmth in her chest at the word from his lips; or maybe it had been the slight huskiness that had slipped into his voice.
She swallowed quickly. “That’s easy—chocolate!” she announced as she snagged the folded newspaper and pencil from him.
“Lois, chocolate is nine letters. The answer has eleven letters.”
“What, did you count the squares already? It’ll fit,” she insisted, still scrawling her answer. “It has to be right.”
“I really admire your determination, but it's not going to change the number of letters in chocolate,” he chuckled.
“Chocolates, plural.”
“Still a letter short.”
“Well, maybe they made a mistake. It happens, you know,” she grumped, glaring at the big empty square at the end as if that might make it disappear. “The second ‘o’ fits, though!” She took one more look at the word and sighed as she erased it. “What else could it be? ‘Oysters’ is far too short...”
“Rockefeller?” he offered. “As in Oysters Rockefeller?”
Knowing Mr. Smarty Pants, that was probably eleven letters. She counted in her head. Yep. Eleven. “How are we going to know who won if you're helping me?” she deflected, trying mentally to check and see if he was right before she wrote it down.
“I’m sorry...?” He shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin, clearly not sorry at all.
“It won't work anyway. See? The ‘o’ needs to match. And we both know you have eight down correct.” She grinned widely at him.
“Yes, Lois,” he said with a teasing smile. “You made it into the
Daily Planet Crossword Puzzle. Congratulations.”
“What was that clue again?” she asked playfully.
He took the paper from her with a mock-dramatic sigh, and read the clue aloud. “Three-time Kerth winner ____ Lane.”
“You sure got an easy one to help your score,” she teased. “Aren't you lucky?”
“I am,” he said, his voice soft and husky.
And suddenly the air was as thin as the silence was thick between them. When she turned toward him, his gaze was so intense—more than a hint of desire simmering just below the surface—that her heart did a full somersault in her chest. “Clark...”
Her eyes darted down to his full lips before she was drawn back to his gaze once again. Their faces weren’t more than six inches apart to begin with, but she could feel him start to drift closer, and as if by some magnetic force, she did too.
A strong rapping sound startled them apart. It took her a moment, her pulse racing in her ears, to register what it was. “Food. The food is here,” she said, breathless.
Clark nodded. “I’ll, uh...just go get it. You stay here,” he said, stealing one more longing glance at her lips before he got up and went to the door.
Lois let out a long, slow breath and forced herself to focus on the task of clearing a space on the coffee table for their food and making sure the recording equipment that took up the other half of the table was still on and at the ready. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that she desperately needed to kiss that man before the night was through.
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