From Part 8:

He strode away, and as they watched him go, Jimmy said in a low voice, “What the heck was that all about?”

“Kent’s version of small-town chivalry, I guess,” she answered coldly, throwing up the words like a shield against Jimmy’s curiosity. “He won’t last a month in Metropolis. Mark my words.”

“I dunno,” Jimmy said, shaking his head. “He might be tougher than you think. Did you see the look on his face when I insulted you?”

She had seen it. She just wasn’t sure what to make of it, and she certainly didn’t want to encourage Jimmy’s speculations on the subject. “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked pointedly.

“On it.” Jimmy hurried back to his desk, and Lois looked up just in time to see the elevator doors close on Clark Kent.

He’d said she was beautiful. He’d said Lois was beautiful, with no reference to Wanda Detroit. More than that, he’d all but said straight out that she was the most beautiful woman he knew. She kept telling herself that she should be angry, that this wasn’t in their agreement. She reminded herself that someone as relentlessly nice as Clark Kent probably just wasn’t capable of standing by and seeing a woman insulted, no matter who the woman was. Because after the way she’d behaved, it just wasn’t possible that he could still care about her.

That thought was enough to deflate her.

She thought of the look on his face, though, when he’d stood up for her, and she realized that she’d liked it – liked having someone on her side, no matter what his reasons. She’d hardly needed rescuing from Jimmy, but the fact that Clark had bothered was still...

Well, she’d liked it, that was all.

___________________________________

Part 9:

He won’t last a month in Metropolis...

Thanks to his enhanced hearing, Clark heard Lois’s words loud and clear as he made his way to the elevator, and they continued to echo in his head after the doors had closed and the car began its descent. Those scornful words seemed to claw at his insides, inflicting sharp, invisible wounds. He wished he could cast them out of his head and somehow render them unheard, but they were there, relentless in their cold certainty.

Won’t last a month....

No, he wouldn’t, would he? Because he couldn’t live like this. It had only been two days, but he was ready to concede defeat. She had been right: they couldn’t work together. It was just that simple. Their night together had been too wonderful, too life-altering an event, for him ever to treat her as an indifferent acquaintance. He had no idea whether he’d have been attracted to Lois Lane had he not met Wanda first, and he didn’t much care. The point was moot. He was attracted, no matter how little he wanted to be and how hard she worked to repel him, and apparently he wasn’t going to be very good at hiding it. He’d just made an absolute jacka** of himself, overreacting to Jimmy’s tease and barging in where he was neither needed nor wanted, and he could foresee a long line of similarly humiliating experiences if he were to remain at the Daily Planet, mooning after a woman who had made it clear she wasn’t interested in him beyond the one night they’d already shared.

By the time he stepped off the elevator and into the lobby, his face was no longer burning and he’d made his decision: He would work out his two weeks, and then he would go. He knew that in making that choice, he wasn’t just giving up the chance at the best job he’d ever had, though that was certainly true. But it was far more than that. He knew that in leaving the Daily Planet and a beautiful, infuriating, confusing woman named Lois Lane, he was walking away from the door marked ‘Normal Life’ and was choosing instead a path that would be decidedly not normal, not anything like the life for which his upbringing had prepared him. He would be answering the call of a distant planet he couldn’t even remember and embracing those parts of himself he’d always been compelled to keep hidden. The thought was frankly terrifying...but so was the thought of walking back into that newsroom.

Once outside, he paused a moment to get his bearings, to breathe deeply of the fresh air and let the late afternoon sun warm his face. People rushing by took no notice of him standing there, just one more face in the crowd. He basked in his anonymity and took comfort in the fact that his ravaged spirit apparently didn’t show. If he’d looked as bad on the outside as he felt on the inside, people would be forming a circle around his prostrate body and reaching for their mobiles to call for immediate medical assistance.

He shook his head at his own bizarre thoughts and then began to walk in the direction of the formalwear shop where he’d arranged for his tux. He would have much preferred to do nothing just then – maybe to go flying somewhere quiet where he could be alone with his thoughts – but he needed to collect his tuxedo and then head to Kansas, since he’d promised his mother he’d come see her ideas for his disguise. After that was the ball, where he’d have to spend an evening watching Lois Lane in the arms of another man.

Mitchell. Mitchell the lawyer who looked like a Ken doll. Ugh.

Once his errand was completed, Clark dashed back to his hotel to drop off his tux and change out of his work clothes. That done, he found a quiet alley and shot into the air.

________________________________

“Mom? Dad?” he called, entering the farm house.

“Up here, honey.” His mother’s voice drifted down from the direction of her bedroom. Clark took the stairs two at a time and soon was standing open-mouthed at her door. The room looked like a fabric store had exploded, with scraps and swatches of some of the most garish fabrics he’d ever seen covering the bed, the floor, and even one lamp.

“Mom, I thought you were just going to come up with some ideas!” Clark’s voice sounded panicked even to his own ears. Was that faux leopard skin? Had she completely lost her mind?

His mother pulled some pins out of her mouth. “Well, I went by the Fabric Hut this morning just to get some ideas, and they were having this huge sale on spandex – they were practically giving all of this away.”

“Imagine that,” Clark said sarcastically.

His mother gave him a look. “Anyway, I thought I’d just pick up an assortment for you to choose from, and then when I got home, I couldn’t resist whipping up a few possibilities. These bodysuits are so simple to make,” she held up an example, something in orange and green that seared his retinas, “that I just kept going.”

“I can see that.” He ventured further into the room, growing more and more alarmed as he examined the sample suits. “Mom, these are all really....” Awful, he wanted to say. Unspeakably, unimaginably awful. But he wouldn’t hurt her feelings that way. She’d obviously spent the entire day on this project. “Creative,” he said finally. “But don’t you think they’re a little...out there?”

“You said you wanted something flashy,” she reminded him. “Distracting, you said. Now I ask you, are these not flashy and distracting?”

“Oh, they’re definitely that,” he agreed nervously. She was really going to make him do this. She was going to make him at least try on these crazy outfits. “But now that I actually see them, I’m thinking maybe a little less flashy. Surely the fact that I’ll be flying will be distracting enough?”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” his mother informed him, thrusting four suits into his hands. “And if you wearing faux leopard skin will distract people from the fact that you’re actually Clark Kent, then I’m all for it.”

He sighed and accepted the suits. She had a point, after all. He owed it to his parents to do absolutely everything he possibly could to protect Clark Kent’s identity. And if wearing something outlandish was what it took, then he’d do it.

“Oh, here’s one more,” his mother said, pulling a bright blue suit off the table with the sewing machine.

“This one isn’t too bad,” he said, examining it. It was just...blue. Bright, yes, and sure to be a snug fit, but not as ridiculous as the rest.

“Well, you have to wear these over it,” Martha said, handing him what looked like a red Speedo with a yellow belt.

“Over it?” His voice rose so high it cracked. “Mom, this is underwear! Under, get it? As in, you wear it under your clothes!” Assuming you were the type to wear red underwear in the first place, which he emphatically was not.

“Clark, who are we to say how people from Krypton dress? Maybe all Kryptonians wear their underwear on the outside. It’s not like anyone’s going to be able to argue with you about it.”

“But...”

“Just go change,” she said, pointing to her bathroom, and giving him a look he recognized from childhood – a look that said she was through arguing with him and he’d better get on with doing what she’d told him to do.

He sighed and obeyed. Once inside the bathroom, he chose the leopard-skin first, wanting to get the worst out of the way. Sure enough, even his mother wrinkled her nose and shook her head at the sight of him looking like a giant, humiliated cat. “Your father would never speak to me again. Try another one.”

He did. And another. And another. His mother liked the green one, but he thought it made him look like an oversized leprechaun. The yellow one made him look like a canary.

His father stuck his head in while Clark was modeling one with bright yellow and red stripes, and for a few seconds Jonathan just stared, speechless, before finally saying, “You joining the circus, son?”

“I can’t do this, Mom! Dad’s right. I look like an idiot.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jonathan protested.

“Jonathan, go away,” Martha ordered firmly, pushing her husband out the door and shutting it in his face.

“What about my dinner?” he asked plaintively, through the door.

“Go make a sandwich,” Martha called. She turned her attention back to her son. “Don’t listen to your father. What does he know? Go try the blue one.”

“The one with the underwear?” Clark was perilously close to whining.

“It’s not underwear!” Martha sounded aggrieved. “It’s a...splash of color. It’s meant to draw the eye away from your face, which I thought was the point of this whole idea.”

Clark gave in and put on the blue suit. And the underwear, which was still underwear to him, no matter what his mother said and how many little yellow belts she attached.

But when he was finished and he stepped out into his parents’ bedroom to look at himself in the full-length mirror, he had to admit that the overall effect was...well, not good, but at least not as dreadful as the others had been. He might, given a decade or so, be able to work up the nerve to venture outside of the house wearing something like this...if it were very dark at the time. And absolutely no one else was around.

“It’s...better,” he said, frowning at his reflection.

His mother grinned at him. “Well, one thing’s for sure. No one will be looking at your face!”

“Mom!”

“It needs something,” she said, examining his reflection thoughtfully. “I’ve got it!” She went to the trunk at the foot of her bed and rummaged around, pulling out a yellow shield with a stylized S in red. The same symbol had been on the ship he’d arrived in, he remembered. “We found this in the ship with you,” she said. “Right on top of your little blanket. We’ve never known what it meant.”

“I’ll probably never know.”

Clark reached out and took the shield, tracing the S with one finger. He wished he could feel something when he looked at it – wished it would whisper to him some clue as to who he was and why he’d been sent to Earth. But if the shield knew, it wasn’t telling.

“Maybe you’ll give it meaning on your own,” his mother suggested. “I think we should put it right here.” She laid her palm over his chest.

“I agree,” Clark said. And then, “Hey! It’s a splash of color, isn’t it? Does that mean we can lose the underwear?”

“They’re not underwear, and they’re staying,” his mother said firmly. “And I think maybe we should add a cape.”

“A cape?”

“It’ll look fantastic when you’re flying. So dramatic.”

Clark moaned. “I’m never going to be able to do this.”

“Well, that’s your decision, honey. You don’t have to, you know.”

“No,” Clark said, shaking his head. “I think I at least have to try. I’m just having trouble picturing the moment when I actually appear in public like this.”

“Wait’ll you see it with the cape,” his mother said. “It’ll all come together.”

Clark had to laugh at his mother’s optimism. “Yeah, Mom. The cape will make all the difference.”

His mother slapped the back of his head, knowing full well that it wouldn’t hurt him. “See if I spend a whole day sewing for you again.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Clark teased.

“Smart-aleck.” Martha laughed. “Go change back into your regular clothes and come have a sandwich with us.”

“It’ll have to be a quick one. I’m going to a ball tonight.”

“A ball!” his mother exclaimed as he disappeared into the bathroom. “What kind of a ball?”

“Tell you in a minute,” he promised.

He emerged a few minutes later, loving his blue jeans and t-shirt more than ever before, and he handed the blue suit to his mother for her to put the finishing touches on it. He still wasn’t sure he’d ever work up the nerve to actually use it, but then he thought of Lois, and her comment about him not lasting a month in Metropolis, and he knew that if it came down to a choice between humiliating himself again in front of Lois Lane and wearing his underwear on the outside in public, he’d actually choose the latter. It was an interesting perspective.

“So what’s this about a ball?” his mother asked as they went down the stairs together.

“It’s a fundraiser for Lex Luthor’s shelter for homeless children. One of the guys I met at the Planet gave me a ticket.”

“Lex Luthor!” His mother sounded extremely impressed. “My goodness. Do you think you’ll actually meet him?”

“Don’t know. Depends on how many people are there, I guess. I’m not counting on it, though.”

“Meet who?” Jonathan asked. He was seated at the table in front of an enormous sandwich.

“Clark’s going to a ball tonight,” Martha said, “and it’s being given by Lex Luthor!”

“Well I’ll be.” Jonathan looked impressed as well. “Didn’t take you long to make the A-list there in Metropolis, did it son?”

Clark laughed. “I’m not even in the alphabet, Dad. Just happened to be talking to a guy at work with an extra ticket. I think Luthor sent them complimentary to members of the press.”

“So do you have a date?” his mother asked, far too casually.

“Mom, don't even go there, all right? It’s not happening.”

“I just asked a simple question!” she protested. “I didn’t mention anyone specific.”

“I don’t have a date. There’s your simple answer.”

“Will she be there?”

Clark glared at her. “I thought we weren’t talking about anyone specific.”

“That was a polite fiction. So will she?”

“She will,” Clark admitted grudgingly. “She has a date. His name is Mitchell and he’s a lawyer who looks like a Ken doll, apparently.”

“A Ken doll?” Jonathan asked, looking up from his sandwich. “What the heck’s a Ken doll?”

“Someone blonde and perfect who probably doesn’t float in his sleep,” Clark said bitterly.

“Someone artificial and plastic and uninteresting,” Martha countered. “And besides, he’s a lawyer! Think of all the lawyer jokes out there. There’s bound to be some truth to them or people wouldn’t keep making them up.”

“Should I tell you some of the alien jokes I’ve heard?”

“Clark!” his mother exclaimed, and he felt guilty when he saw both of his parents looking at him with concern. “Honey, this doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just...it’s been a bad week. And someday I might be ready to be teased about Lois, but I’m not there yet, OK?”

“I really didn’t mean to tease,” his mom said, sounding so remorseful that he couldn’t possibly stay angry with her. “It’s just...I know you’re not the type to fall in and out of love every other week, so it seems like this woman must have really meant something to you. I’m curious about her, I guess, and if you really care about her, I hate to see you give up because of a little rough patch.”

“A little rough patch?” Clark echoed incredulously.

“I know it all seems terrible now, but trust me, honey – couples have come through worse.”

“And if we were a couple, I might find that reassuring. But we’re not. We’re not anything right now. I spent the whole day in the newsroom with her, and she practically jumped out of her skin any time I got close to her. And I want to just ignore her, but Lois isn’t the kind of woman you can ignore.”

“What’s she like?” his mother asked gently.

Clark wished he knew. “Lois is...she’s complicated. At the Planet, she’s domineering, uncompromising, pig-headed...brilliant. But the night I met her, she was different. Funny...sweet...flirtatious.”

Martha smiled at Clark’s description. “Pretty?”

He shook his head. “Pretty doesn’t even come close, Mom.”

“Sounds like the kind of woman who would keep you on your toes,” his mother observed. “Make life interesting.”

“Drive you crazy,” his dad added, shooting his wife a disapproving glare.

“I’m just saying....”

“He knows what you’re saying,” Jonathan said. “Leave the boy alone.”

“It’s OK,” Clark said, shaking his head. “It’s just...don’t go getting your hopes up, Mom.”

“You should ask her to dance tonight,” Martha counseled. “Take a chance.”

Clark laughed. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when your happiness is at stake.”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But I think I’m going to take a rain check on the sandwich. I should probably be heading back to Metropolis.”

“OK, honey. Come back tomorrow, and I should have your suit ready.”

“It’s not the circus one is it?” Jonathan asked.

“If you think that was bad, you should have seen the leopard skin,” Clark told him. “Or the one that made me look like one of the Keebler Elves. But no – we went with the underwear-on-the-outside one.”

“The underwear...” Jonathan stared at his son and then at his wife. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

Martha threw up her hands. “It’s not underwear!”

“Show it to Dad. Bet he’ll be on my side.”

“Have fun tonight,” Jonathan said.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Ask her to dance!”

Clark laughed. “I’ll think about it, Mom. ‘Night.”

“Good night, honey.”

Clark heaved a sigh of relief when he stepped out the door, and then he remembered that the trip to Kansas was supposed to be the easy part of the night.

If that was easy, he wasn’t sure he was going to survive hard.

_________________________________

Several hours later, Clark crossed the threshold of Lex Luthor’s lavish penthouse apartment and stepped into another world. He was quite sure that he looked every inch the wide-eyed country boy as he gazed, awestruck, at his surroundings. Clark had traveled, had likely seen more of the world than anyone on Earth. He had certainly seen it from some of the most unique perspectives imaginable, but he had never had access to this type of event. The lives of the rich and famous had always been at a distant remove from his own, and that had never bothered him – not at all. He had never aspired to either wealth or fame, and he’d always suspected that the most interesting lives were the ones that no one ever saw, ever wrote about. Those were the people who fascinated him.

Still, it was impossible not to be a little impressed with the sheer spectacle spread out before him. Lex Luthor’s ball had drawn the glitterati of not just Metropolis but the entire East coast. In just a few minutes of looking around, he spotted well-known actors, artists, writers, athletes, and politicians. It was odd, at a party where he likely was acquainted with fewer than five people, to see so many familiar faces.

The room itself was staggering in both its proportions and its fittings, given that it was inside of Luthor’s private home. Enormous arrangements of white orchids towered over the guests, and here and there were tables heaped with enough food to feed an entire village in some parts of the world. Waiters circulated discreetly, passing out champagne, and Clark accepted a glass, not because he wanted it but because he thought he’d be more comfortable with something in his hand.

“Clark! Hey, CK!” Clark looked up with relief at the sound of Jimmy’s voice. Having gotten over his initial awe, he was beginning to feel awkward moving through the room by himself.

“Hey, Jimmy,” he said, as Jimmy made it through the throng and landed at his side.

“Glad you could make it. Hey, can you believe this place? And these people! I’ve never seen so many beautiful women in my life. I think I’m in love!”

Clark grinned. “With which one?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Whichever one will have me, probably.”

Clark chuckled obediently and then resumed glancing around. “You were right when you said everyone who was anyone would be here. I’ve never been to anything like this.”

“Me either. I think even the Chief was a little impressed, even though he pretends like he’s bored with this kind of thing.”

“Is anyone else from the Planet here?”

“I saw Cat a few minutes ago. She pretended she didn’t know me.” Jimmy shrugged and then nodded towards a staircase. “Hey, look. There he is: Lex Luthor!”

As Clark looked in the direction Jimmy had indicated, a flash of lightning lit the figure on the staircase, the subsequent thunder announcing his arrival like a drum roll. Even nature, it seemed, stood in awe of Lex Luthor.

Their billionaire host smiled over his guests and then descended the staircase like a monarch deigning to venture down into the masses. He smiled and shook hands left and right as he waded into the crowd, patting shoulders and kissing cheeks, bestowing his benevolence on all he passed. It was a consummate performance, Clark thought, and he couldn’t help but be impressed with the man’s flair, even as he began to have suspicions about his sincerity. It was all a little too staged, too dramatic. Clark wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the thunderstorm outside had been faked, arranged by Luthor’s minions to add sound and fury to his performance. He noted how the crowd parted before Luthor, how no one dared to approach him.

With one notable exception.

“Lex Luthor!” Lois’s voice rang out, confident and clear, arresting Luthor’s progress and drawing the attention of everyone nearby. She stepped out of the crowd, and at the sight of her standing there, looking as magnificent as a queen in her deep blue ball gown, Clark lost touch with gravity and floated six inches off the floor. It didn’t matter; with the scene playing out before them, no one was paying any attention to Clark Kent.

And then she was speaking again, addressing one of the richest men in the world as if he were an errant child. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?” she demanded.

A slow smile spread across Luthor’s face as he took in the woman before him, apparently deciding that her audacity was sufficiently mitigated by her beauty. He approached her, and Lois offered her hand.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet.”

Luthor lifted her hand to his lips. “I can assure you, Ms. Lane, that I’ll never make that mistake again.” He leaned in and whispered something to her that Clark couldn’t make out over the noise of the crowd.

“Wow!” Jimmy breathed. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

Clark suddenly realized that he was floating, and he forced his feet back to the floor. “Yeah,” he said softly. “She’s definitely something.”

He watched as Luthor led Lois to the dance floor and pulled her into a waltz. They were dancing much too closely, he thought, and Lois was smiling up at him as they talked.

It’s business, he told himself. She’s trying to get an interview.

But with that smile lighting up her face, she reminded him painfully of the night they’d met, the night her smiles had been for him and her body had been his to hold. He’d been dreading the sight of her with her plastic Ken-doll lawyer, but this was much, much worse. It was worse because he didn’t like Lex Luthor, and it was more than just jealousy over the fact that the man was dancing with Lois Lane. Clark had experienced an almost visceral distrust of the billionaire at first sight, and now he recognized the predatory gleam in Luthor’s eye as he looked down at the woman in his arms.

Clark had not intended to take his mother’s advice. He had not intended to approach Lois at all, in fact. But somehow, he found himself next to her on the dance floor, looking into the eyes of one of the richest men in the world and asking a question no other man in the room would have dared to ask.

“May I cut in?”

________________________________

A/N: So will she dance with him? Let me know what you think smile

I don't usually do two posts in one week, but this part marched itself right onto the page, probably because it's largely just a re-working of scenes from the Pilot - to give credit where it is certainly due. I hope it manages to be entertaining, even as it covers very familiar ground.