Okay, a quick note... This whole part takes place at Clark's apartment... It's a long part and there are no section breaks since there are no scene breaks. Just wanted to warn you ahead of time.
Thanks for all the wonderful fdk so far. Enjoy!
Table of Contents From Part 2:
Yes, I really should apologize. Clark hasn’t done anything to deserve what I put him through today. But what should I say?
“What would you say?” I ask the computer screen in front of me.
My cheeks flush in embarrassment at what I imagine it would say... stuff that’s only fit to print in a romance novel. Not anything valuable for real life.
Ugh. I sigh heavily as I get up, and I walk to my front door. I’ll just go over to his apartment and plead insanity.
PART THREE:
I’m almost to Clark’s apartment, but I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to tell him when I get there. Okay, what to say, what to say. How about just ‘Clark, I’m sorry?’ Simple, sweet, to the point.
No, no. My English professor in college always said, ‘Never say you’re sorry. That just makes you sound... sorry, pathetic. If you’re going to apologize, then do just that... apologize.’
Well then, ‘Clark, I apologize...’
What else though? That doesn’t seem like near enough when considering the extent of my childish behavior. But how do I make him understand that I didn’t mean to put him in such a precarious position, without sounding like a pathetic, pleading little mealy-mouthed girl? I hate those types, the little mousy “yes-women”.
As I’m pondering these thoughts, I hear a very familiar *whoosh* above me. I look up in time to see my favorite super-hero landing on the balcony of Clark’s apartment. What is he doing here?
I find myself a little excited. Oooh, I get to see Clark and Superman in the same trip. But why is he here? Kicking back to drink a beer and watch a ballgame with Clark? I can’t restrain myself and a laugh escapes my mouth. How absurd! Well, they are friends... But then my laughter stops short. What if something’s wrong with Clark? What if Superman is here because Clark needs help? I quicken my pace and practically run up the front steps to his apartment.
I bang on the door loudly. “Clark? It’s Lois.” I notice a small opening in the curtains on his front door, so I bend down and peer in with one eye. From my limited perspective, I can’t see Clark or Superman. I bang on the door again. “Clark? Are you in there? Are you okay?”
From my vantage point I see a half-dressed Clark come running towards the stairs to answer my plea. He has on a pair of casual shorts and nothing else. No shirt, not even any socks or shoes. My eyes are immediately drawn to the well-sculpted muscles of his chest. My stomach begins turning somersaults. I try to pull my gaze up to meet his face. It’s such a handsome face, but, try as I might, my gaze falls back to his chest.
That beautiful, bare chest... I had laid on top of it just a few short nights ago. It was so solid and reassuring. I could have laid on it all night, maybe fallen asleep on it.
My gaze drifts across his shoulders and down his arms. Those arms... they had carried me to the bedroom after I’d gotten sick. They were so strong and so comforting.
I watch as he reaches out for the doorknob with one of his hands. His hands... they had ever so gently caressed my stomach in such a loving gesture, and yet it had been a little arousing as well, if only I hadn’t been ill...
Focus, Lois. Clark is talking to you. What did he say? Oh, yeah. ‘Hello, Lois... What are you doing here this time of night? Is something wrong?’
“Wrong? No, nothing’s wrong. Is anything wrong, with you? I mean, what was *he* here for?” I ask, pointing towards Clark’s balcony.
“He who?”
“He who? Don’t give me that, Clark, you know *he who*.”
Clark gives me a puzzled look. What is he trying to pull here? I know I saw Superman land on his balcony. Did he not come in? No, of course he came in. Maybe Clark is being coy with me because *he’s* still in there. I look into his face for confirmation and he squirms uncomfortably. His eyes are practically drowning in guilt.
“Superman. I just watched him land on your balcony outside. Is he still here?” I pry. I’m not really sure why, but it seems to me that Clark’s face pales just a little.
“Superman? Oh, yeah. Uh, no. He’s not still here. He was, uh, in the neighborhood and, um, wanted me to let Mayson know that he’d be willing to testify against Luthor in the upcoming trial.”
“Yeah, fat chance of that happening. Mayson’s disdain for Superman is as obvious as her crush on you.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, don’t play innocent with me. You know Mayson likes you.” I bat my eyes at him and break into my best Mayson imitation, with a little sarcasm thrown in for good measure. “I had hoped I’d be able to get together with you pretty soon, too, Clark.”
“I’m sure that’s just so that we can go over Luthor’s trial.”
“You can’t really be that naïve, can you?” I ask him. He can’t, can he?
“Well, tell me this, Lois. If you really think that Mayson has a crush on me, why did you bring her to lunch with you? What was that all about? You fairly forced me to go to lunch with Lucy, and then you came there interrupting our lunch, towing Mayson behind you. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that lunch was for me? Or do you even care?”
His last words sting a little, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t say something snippy. Remember, you came here to apologize, I tell myself, and then I sigh. Nope, apologize isn’t the right word. I am *sorry*. Just suck it up, Lois.
I take in a deep breath preparing to speak in rapid succession. Why are apologies so hard? “Clark, I’m sorry. That was undeserved. I really didn’t mean for Mayson and I to crash your lunch with Lucy. It really was Mayson’s choice to eat there, not mine. And the whole thing with Lucy? I shouldn’t have done that.”
Clark seems taken aback. He stands quietly, watching me for a few moments. His eyes are dark and full of questions. I start to feel myself getting uncomfortable when he finally breaks the silence.
“Why *did* you do that?”
“Do what?” I ask and cringe as I watch him raise his eyebrow at me. Oh, *that*... Lucy. “Look, I said I was sorry, Clark. Let’s just drop it, okay?” I ask.
“No. I think I deserve more than an apology.”
“Like what?” I demand. Did he realize what I had gone through just to apologize? What did he want?
“An explanation. For starters, why did you practically twist my arm to go to lunch with Lucy?”
“I told you. She felt bad about that mess with Johnny and wanted to make it up to you.” True enough.
“Uh, try again.”
He called my bluff! Now what? Um, okay. “She thinks you’re cute, and I knew it’d make her day to have lunch with you.” Still true. It *would* make her day because she’d know she was irritating me.
“Nuh-uh. I’m not buying it. One more time, try again.”
“She thinks I have a crush on you and wanted to make me jealous! Okay?” I blurt the real truth out, exasperated. Whoops.
Clark’s eyes widen slightly, and he tilts his head curiously. “Do you?”
“What?” I ask incredulously. Do I? What kind of question was that? ...A good one - one that any decent reporter would ask. Was he really going to make me say it?
“Do you have a crush on me?” he asks again.
No. I’m not going to do this. “Clark, this is silly. I came here to apologize to you for the situation at lunch. I’ve apologized. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. Goodnight.” I say as I turn to leave.
“No.”
I halt in my tracks. No? It’s not the volume behind the voice that stops me. Actually he didn’t speak it loudly, just firmly, resolutely. It’s such a simple word... no. But why did I stop moving? Because it was a demand. Clark never makes demands. I feel a strange weakness in my knees. What’s wrong with me?
“What?” I challenge him, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
“No, I’m not going to excuse you. Answer the question.” He folds his arms across his chest, causing all kinds of ripples... um, through his chest. I sigh inwardly. Who am I trying to kid? Myself? Those ripples ran straight through *me* causing um... *ripples* of my own.
My head is spinning, and my legs feel like noodles; but I manage to keep my wits about me. “No. This is ridiculous and childish.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Afraid? Me? I’m not afraid of anything,” I reply stubbornly, letting my eyes flash at him just a little.
“Okay, prove it. Answer the question.”
I fidget a little and then start to turn away, to walk away. He reaches out and grabs my shoulders turning me back around to look at him. Oh god, there are those hands again. They’re so strong, so commanding... and so warm, so inviting. I look up into his face. His eyes are so intense, searching me as if to peer into my very thoughts.
“No, I’m not going to let you leave until you answer me.”
I try to pull away from him, but he has a firm grip on me, much firmer than he’s ever exerted against me before. I feel my arousal, but the realization of that only serves to terrify me. I can’t do this. I can’t expose myself like this, not to anyone and certainly not to Clark. “Clark, please. Let me go. I can’t.”
“Why? Why can’t you?” he asks, pulling me even closer. I can feel the heat from his bare chest. The warmth from it is radiating through me. I’ve never seen Clark like this before, so intense, so insistent on an answer. The strength in his voice and his body commands me. It breaks through the carefully constructed barrier to my heart.
“Because I’m afraid.” I say simply and move to lean against the door frame for support. I’d die from embarrassment if my legs gave out on me.
We are both quiet for a moment, and then I continue. “You see. This is what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid of us being uncomfortable around each other. I’m so comfortable with you, Clark. You’re my best friend and my partner, and I don’t want to lose that.”
“So your answer is *yes*?” he asks me.
“I... Clark... you don’t...”
“Lois!”
“Yes!” That’s it, that final command from Clark is enough to buckle my knees, the last straw. But Clark is faster. He reaches out and grabs hold of me with one arm around my waist, supporting me. Our bodies are close. I want so badly to throw caution to the wind and wrap my arms around him, but I don’t; I restrain myself.
“There, was that so hard?” he asks me. He has a gentle smile on his face, and there is a soft, warm glow in his eyes. He begins to pull me closer to him as he leans in.
Oh god, he’s going to kiss me.
He stops; his lips dangerously close to my own. I again hold myself back. It’s not easy; every cell in my body is crying out to take possession of those lips. All the scenes I’ve been writing in my novel come flooding back, fueling my desire. What is he waiting for? One, two more seconds pass. Please. Please, Clark.
“Me, too,” he whispers, his lips almost touching mine.
Huh? He too what? Is he reading my thoughts? My brain doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with me right now. “You too?”
“Have a crush on you. From that first moment we met in Perry’s office.”
Oh... oh. I can feel his warm breath on my skin. It sends shivers down my neck and the backs of my arms. My mind is whirling. What should I do? What should I say? And then, before I can muddle the moment any further, his lips capture mine in a soft, tender kiss.
He puts his other arm around me pulling me flush against his body. I allow myself to relax into his arms as he deepens the kiss. His lips are so soft and yet so forceful.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I feel the disappointment swelling in me that he’s pulling away. It’s as wonderful as I imagined it would be, my first *real* kiss with Clark. I’ve kissed him before but never like this.
“Now you’re in trouble,” he says to me, cutting through my half-formed thought of recapturing those lips again in mine.
Huh? In trouble? ...Hmm, trouble. Part of my brain tells me that sounds promising. But I can tell when I look into his face that *that* isn’t the kind of trouble he had in mind.
He must have seen the look of confusion on my face. “You now have two crushes to deal with,” he explains.
“Two?”
“Yes, me and Superman,” he tells me, his eyes searching mine for confirmation.
I feel my cheeks flush. He’s right. I do have a crush on Superman... but what girl doesn’t?
“Clark...”
“It’s okay. I’m just teasing you.” But the look in his eyes says he was doing anything but teasing.
“No. I want to tell you something,” I pause, and he waits expectantly, so I continue. “You’re right. I do have a crush on Superman. But it’s really just an idealistic infatuation. I’d be willing to bet more than half the girls in Metropolis have a crush on him. The feelings I have for you are... different. I *know* you, Clark.”
“Do you? Do you really?” His face has a troubled expression on it.
“Yes. I do. You’re the man who answers my call at any hour of the night, if I need you. You’re the man who brings me my coffee, just the way I like it, every morning. You listen to my rantings and ravings and don’t try to change me... You accept me for who I am. I know you, Clark, and what I don’t know, I’m sure I’ll find out in time.”
Clark has a strange, far-off look on his face. I can’t be sure but it almost seems to look like regret. Uh oh. I have a bad feeling that I don’t like that look. What could it mean?
My overactive imagination takes over and decides maybe I should backtrack a little. “Clark, I didn’t mean...” I can’t get out anything further because he embraces me and is kissing me again. I’m not prepared for this reaction and don’t have sufficient breath to outlast the kiss. I have to pull away to catch my breath.
“Wow,” I say breathlessly. “Maybe there are one or two things I don’t know about you.”
“I’m afraid there are more than one or two. Would you come inside with me? There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, and it’s time to tell you, before things go any further.”
Go any further? I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. What kind of *further* is he thinking about? I work up the nerve to ask him that very question when I notice the worry on his face. My mind immediately switches gears. What is he going to tell me? “You look nervous. Is it bad? Should I be worried? Do I want to know this? Well, of course I want to know. But I...”
“Lois, take a breath. Just hear me out, okay? This *thing* isn’t bad; it’s just... well probably going to be a shock, or at least surprising at any rate. And it’s not something I can tell you out here. Come on, come inside with me.”
His arms release me, grabbing my hands. I allow him to lead me inside. As he’s reaching out to close the door behind me, though, a hand shoots in from outside the door, grabbing the door and stopping him.
A decidedly female hand.
“Clark, do you have a moment? We need to talk,” Mayson says.
Mayson? Oh, not now.
“Well, actually, I’m kind of...” Clark tries to respond.
“Lex Luthor has escaped from prison,” she blurts out.
“What?” Clark and I exclaim simultaneously.
“Yeah, I know. That was exactly my reaction.”
“How? What happened?” I ask.
“I don’t know. The police are still trying to piece together what happened, but they found the guard for his cell block inside Luthor’s cell, knocked out from a hit on the head.”
“Do the police have any leads on where he might go? Have there been any sightings?” Clark asks her.
“No.”
“So you came to see Clark because you think, what? That maybe Lex may come after him?” I ask.
“You, actually. I already requested that the police send a squad car over to your apartment to keep an eye on it. Luthor contacted you before; I thought there might be more than a good chance he’d try it again. I didn’t realize you’d be over here.”
I feel my face flush, and Clark’s looks like it’s doing the same. It’s not really my place to ask this, but I can’t help myself. I just don’t like Mayson very much. “Why *did* you come over here?”
Now it’s Mayson’s turn to blush. “I know Clark and Superman are close, and I know Superman knows that I’m not exactly his biggest fan. But we could really use his help right about now. The longer Luthor is out there, the more danger that puts you in, Lois, not to mention the rest of Metropolis. I thought Superman might be willing to help us find him. Clark, do you think you could contact him for me?”
“I think that can be arranged,” Clark says, looking thoughtful. “Would you do me a favor and take Lois back to her apartment?”
“Clark! No, Mayson, that’s not necessary,” I tell them both.
“Yes, Lois, I think it is,” Clark insists.
“I’m a big girl, and Mayson said there’s already a police car on its way to my apartment to keep an eye on things. I’ll be fine.”
“It would make me feel better,” Clark says earnestly. There’s something in his voice. I can’t fight it.
“It would make me feel better, too,” Mayson chimes in.
Ugh! “Fine, fine. Take me home. It’s too late tonight for me to do anything anyway. Clark, call me as soon as you hear from Superman.”
“Okay, I will. And be careful. If Luthor is still fixated on you, you’re in danger. Stay in your apartment. I’ll come check on you later.”
“Sure,” I lie. I may be in love with him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to him. Hah, me actually listen to Clark? There’s a novel idea. I watch as Clark runs to his bedroom, presumably to put on some clothes before he goes off in search of Superman, and I turn to face Mayson.
“Okay, let’s go, you’re coming with me.”
“Can I ask where we’re going? You told Clark you were going to your apartment, but somehow I get the feeling that’s not where you’re planning to go.”
How very astute of her. I give her a mental eye-roll. Why did she irritate me so much? Well, besides Clark? “Correct. You want to take a guess where we’re going?”
“Probably somewhere dangerous. Somewhere Clark wouldn’t want either of us to go. I’m guessing you’re going to visit some of Luthor’s old haunts to see if you can find him.”
“Ding, ding,” I say, touching my fingertip to my nose. “Now are you coming or not?” I’m really hoping she’ll say ‘not’, but no such luck.
“Yes, I’m coming. I told Clark I’d deliver you safely back to your apartment, so I’m not leaving you until we get there.”
Ugh!
