Story TOC Chapter 3Clark paused on his way back to the table with the Chinese takeout. He needed a few deep, calming breaths to get his equilibrium back after their almost-kiss. His heart was still racing a bit as he started setting the boxes down one by one on the coffee table, and it didn’t help that he would have sworn he heard a small gasp from her as she sat there watching him. He took another deep breath and started preparing a plate for each of them.
“Aphrodisiac!” she said.
“What?” He looked at her quizzically, the word itself instantly scrambling his brain like a record scratch. “I’m pretty sure shrimp lo mein is, uh, fairly low on the list of aphrodisiacs, Lois, but if...”
“No, Clark, my word. Aphrodisiac! That's got to be it.”
“Ah, I’ll bet you’re right.” He grinned down at her, taking a moment to appreciate the way her face lit up when she was winning. “It does have eleven letters, after all,” he noted as he settled back down on the couch next to her.
She grabbed the puzzle and pencil and began filling in her word with a triumphant grin.
“You spelled it wrong—it’s D-I-S, not D-E-S.”
“Always editing my copy, Kent,” she huffed. “That’s what copy editors are for!”
“To help you with your crosswords?” he teased.
She swatted his arm with the paper.
“Okay, okay,” he relented playfully, handing her a plate of food and taking the crossword and pencil from her. “We can do the rest of it together, what do you say?”
Her eyes seemed to dance a bit while she grinned back at him, and he couldn't stop his own eyes from drifting back to the soft lines of her lips. “Sure,” she said, finally, and Clark was suddenly having a hard time remembering what he’d just gotten her to agree to. It most definitely hadn’t been a kiss...but he was feeling increasingly optimistic about the odds of that happening tonight.
They took turns wielding the pencil and filling in the answers as they ate, working together to figure out the different clues. And all the while, Clark reveled in the fact that this was better than a first date. Sure, he would have loved to—and still planned to—take her out for a fancy dinner, maybe some place with dancing, but being here with Lois like this...it was all he’d ever dreamed of.
He’d always loved being able to spend time with her like this—having fun doing ordinary things. There was an ease about her during these times that he knew was rare to witness, as though she let her walls down just for him.
And lately, her walls had been coming down more and more, and the line was beginning to feel permanently blurred. Just Saturday, they had spent their day off together, at the Met, on the excuse that they wanted to check out the Chinese artifacts exhibit Chen Chow had suggested to them. They had lunch at an outdoor cafe, strolled through the bookstore, walked through Centennial Park, where they happened upon a farmer’s market. Clark bought some fresh vegetables and a pork tenderloin to cook ahead for a few meals that week, afraid it would be too bold to ask Lois if she could stay for dinner.
But fate intervened in Centennial Park, with a heavy downpour that came seemingly out of nowhere. So they’d ended up sprinting back to his place, jackets over their heads, arriving back soaking wet. Lois changed into one of his sweatshirts and a pair of pajama pants while her clothes dried, and he did cook them dinner as they waited out the storm.
At the end of the night, she had lingered on his stoop and said something with her eyes that made him feel certain she was looking at Superman, not Clark. Because he knew without a doubt she wanted him to kiss her. And while he’d lacked the courage then to cross that boundary, he hoped his eyes replied that he desperately wanted to. Which is what had given him the final push to ask her on a date.
What was he waiting for?
His heart was light as he watched her gloat over another correct guess, even though they’d agreed to finish the rest together. And he let himself, for a moment, imagine a future of lazy Sunday mornings with her, having coffee in their kitchen and making a competition of doing the crossword together.
It was almost enough to help him forget the fear that still held fast at the back of his mind, the threat looming over their heads. He shook himself mentally and tried to bring himself back to the present. While he was anxious at the fact that he couldn’t be out there looking for Luthor right now, he could at least be comforted by the fact that Lois wouldn’t be out of his sight for the foreseeable future.
Lois had eaten her fill, so she currently had the puzzle in-hand and read the next clue aloud. “‘Of alien origin.’ They call that a clue?” She hummed, unsure of the answer.
Clark flinched a bit inwardly and took a bite of lo mein. He could easily see what the answer was—he’d made it into the crossword puzzle too.
“Immigrant won’t fit, plus it’s not enough letters,” she mused.
“Kryptonian,” Clark said flatly.
“Oh, right! That does fit. I always forget.” She filled in the answer and was ready to go on to the next clue as if she hadn’t just...
“You forget that Superman’s an alien?” he asked, incredulous. “He
flies.”
Lois looked at him, clearly trying to read his expression, as if she was confused by his reaction. “I don't really think of him that way, Clark. I mean, do you?”
Did he? How could he not? It was a point of fact that he was an alien; an indisputable, came-here-in-a-spaceship fact. But as he watched her frown slightly and her brow furrow, he realized it wasn’t so cut and dry for her. Maybe because she loved the man in tights?
Finally, after too long an uncomfortable silence, he answered. “No, I think for the most part he’s...just a man. Though certainly not a typical, normal guy.” Though a part of him longed to be.
“Right, exactly,” she agreed, seeming relieved that he was on the same page as her. “He’s just a man, with some extraordinary gifts. And he’s our friend. I don’t think of my friends as aliens.”
“Well...he’s our friend. But that doesn’t change the fact, Lois, that he
is an alien.”
“Maybe so. But it’s not how I think of him. Which is why I forgot. I mean, he might be ‘of alien origin,’ and sure, maybe he can fly and push meteors out of our orbit. But we also know he’s vulnerable. And not just, you know,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Kryptonite. I mean, we’ve both seen him, Clark, after a big disaster, when he looks defeated. His eyes...they’re haunted sometimes, by those rescues. We cover horrible stories all the time that take time to process, to decompress from. I think they really affect him too. So, he's...very human, in all the best ways. I don’t know how he endures it. Do you?”
His heart stuttered to a stop and seemed to hang suspended on this feeling, this revelation that—while she’d failed to recognize that her hero was also her partner—she could see right through to the heart of him. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that feeling yet.
But she’d asked...did he know how he endured it? “No,” he said quietly, his mind still wrestling with all she’d said. “I guess I don’t.”
“It just seems like, for someone who seems so human, who does so much good, it has to be a very lonely existence. Do you know if he has anyone, Clark? Anyone he can lean on for support?”
“He does,” he said automatically, his voice rough as he felt tears threatening. His eyes were locked on hers, and for a second he couldn’t breathe. But then he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m sure he must. Otherwise, how would he keep going?”
She smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand, and something in his heart grabbed ahold of this moment and tucked it safely inside.
“You’re right. Good. That makes sense,” she said, seeming a little dazed, and he wondered if the moment had been as intense for her as it had been for him.
He cleared his throat again after a moment and nodded as if to mark the end of their heavy conversation. “Here,” he said, reaching out for the pencil and paper. “We’re both finished eating now, and it’s my turn. What’s our next clue?”
He took them from her, and he felt a tingling where her fingers brushed along his, sure she'd let her touch linger even more than the last time.
The tape crackled. Bender was talking. Clark turned up the volume on the receiver and allowed his super hearing to kick in so that he could hear both sides of the conversation.
“...I’m expecting him in the morning.” Lois’ eyes shot to Clark’s.
Who? they asked.
<<“Excellent, around what time do you think?”>> A smooth English voice inquired.
Nigel.
“Early. Before eight.” Bender sounded a little rattled.
<<“Good. Also, have you heard from Ms. Lane? Mr. Luthor is anxious to locate her. She doesn’t seem to be sleeping at her apartment.”>> A chill went down Clark’s spine. They were looking for her.
“N-not since the other day. She left a message with my secretary. I feel like she’s onto me. We need her out of the way.”
<<“I agree. If you see her, call me. We will make sure she’s handled. She can be a menace.”>> “Will do. I agree she is a problem. I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up the phone and Clark turned down the volume.
We will make sure she’s handled. “That wasn’t very revealing. Who do you think he was talking to? Who is he expecting?” Lois asked Clark, thinking aloud.
“I don’t know. For whatever reason I feel like he was talking to Nigel. He sounded nervous, and Nigel is intimidating. But I can’t be sure,” he said, a little awkwardly. “I have no idea who he was expecting.”
“Well, whoever it was, I’m glad we have that on tape. It’s definitely incriminating. It could be useful down the line.”
“Lois, you left a message with Bender’s secretary, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, two messages actually, why?”
“I think they’re looking for you.”
“They’re looking for me? How do you know? They could have been talking about anybody.” He could tell she didn’t want to believe it.
Clark lowered his voice, his tone serious and quiet. “Lois, they were talking about you.”
“And just how do you know, Clark? We barely got anything from Bender’s side of this. You don’t have proof of anything!”
He rolled his eyes, his jaw tense. Sometimes, her defensiveness was justified, even adorable. Right now, it was downright frustrating.
“Trust me, Lois, they were talking about you.
You’re the problem Bender needs out of the way.”
“Clark, I know you worry about me, but you need to relax. It’s not like—”
He stood up hotly and began to pace, gesturing emphatically in front of her as he spoke. “It’s not like what, Lois?” he exploded. “It’s not like every week some criminal is trying to find a creative new way to kill the best investigative reporter in Metropolis? It’s not like Superman is constantly arriving in the nick of time, saving your life because you got too close to the story? It’s not like your ex-fiancé Lex Luthor is on the loose, and oh by the way, completely infatuated with you? Because all of these things
are true, Lois.”
She got quiet, hugging her arms around herself, letting his words sink in. He felt sure she was feeling more afraid than she was letting on, and as frustrated as he was with her right now, the sight of her there, suddenly looking small and vulnerable, tugged at his heart and made him soften instantly.
He kneeled in front of her. “Lois,” he said gently, putting a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset. But you’re in danger. Please, please listen to me.”
She nodded, suddenly looking tearful. “I’m sorry I make you worry, Clark.”
He stroked her knee again reassuringly. “Hey, it comes with the job. But you definitely keep me on my toes,” he teased, feeling the tension start to diffuse.
They looked at each other, the silence stretching between them in a long, comfortable way as she held his gaze—searching for something, or longing for it—he couldn’t tell which. But he felt with an overwhelming sureness that he could be happily lost in her gaze forever.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Should we finish the crossword?”
She gave him a small smile as he got up from the floor to sit back beside her on the couch. “Sure. I thought maybe you were afraid to continue because I was winning.”
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