Lois felt a little bit like Cinderella as she readied herself for work the morning after the ball. She looked at herself in her conservative grey suit, which she had thought very flattering when she bought it, and she felt unusually drab after the glitz and glamour of the night before. But Clark had seen her in her work clothes before, she reminded herself, and his feelings for her had apparently survived the experience. If this thing between them was to work at all, they would both have to realize that it couldn’t all be dress-up and dancing. Somehow, real life had to be worked into the equation.
The problem was, she’d never been very good at juggling real life and romance, which was how she’d gotten into such a mess with Clark to begin with. She had, like Mitchell, thought that it just wasn’t worth the bother. She remembered with a prick of conscience her indignation when Mitchell had made his comment about scratching an itch. Hadn’t she intended that Clark be no more than that? And if he’d never shown up at the Planet, if she’d never seen him again, that’s all he would have been.
But he had shown up, and she was beginning to think he might be worth the bother of actually incorporating him into her life. It had been so long since she’d tried to do that, however, that she had no idea how to go about it. She was used to taking no one into consideration but herself. Even remembering to feed her fish was a challenge. How could she possibly be in a relationship, with all that that entailed? She was sure to make countless mistakes and to hurt Clark’s feelings at every turn, and by the time she left her apartment, she’d convinced herself that the whole thing was going to be a complete disaster.
She was a nervous wreck by the time she arrived at the Planet, and she felt almost resentful of Clark as she stabbed at the elevator buttons and tried to check her makeup one last time in their shiny panel. A week ago, she’d been able to go to work in the morning like a normal, calm, sane person, and now every elevator ride up to the newsroom was fraught with nervous anticipation. He had done this to her. And she would have liked to pretend that she didn’t know how or why, but the truth was that the memory of their night together had inscribed itself on her heart with remarkable precision and clarity. The minute she began to think that no man was worth this...this... upheaval, she would be reminded of what it had felt like to be loved by Clark Kent, and she would once again think that any amount of upheaval was worth it.
Her eyes swept the newsroom the minute she stepped off the elevator, and she immediately caught sight of Clark, standing near the coffee service in friendly conversation with Pete Frye, the Planet’s sports editor. From the looks of things - Clark appeared to be scratching out a play on one palm - they were talking football, which was Pete’s consuming passion. Lois huffed a little and then headed for her desk.
What had she expected? That he’d be waiting at the elevator with a bouquet of flowers in his hand? She reluctantly acknowledged that she had imagined something of the sort. Okay, maybe not with the flowers, since that was clearly over-the-top, but she’d thought that he’d be waiting for her, looking for her - would drop everything the minute she walked in the room. She hadn’t thought that he’d be so busy talking sports that he wouldn’t even notice her arrival.
She switched on her computer and dared another look. Still talking, and this time, Pete was miming throwing a pass. Since Pete was approaching sixty and was so out of shape that he got winded if he walked across the room, Lois fully expected him to throw his back out with the exertion, but he survived the experience and the conversation went on.
Well.
It was nothing to her if Clark wanted to stand around talking sports when he could be talking to her. She couldn’t care less, frankly. And she’d show him that, too. Remembering the debacle with the coffee the previous morning, she decided that calmly helping herself to some coffee would be the perfect way to demonstrate to Clark that she was unaffected by his presence and by the things that had transpired between them the night before. He could stand around talking football all morning for all that it mattered to her. She’d get her coffee and then get started working on her story, and he would see that cool professionalism was the order of the day.
She grabbed at the spot where she normally kept her coffee cup and met with a bare patch of desk. Her eyes darted around the rest of her desk, even looking behind her computer monitor, but no coffee cup appeared.
Well, if that wasn’t just perfect!
Much as she’d appreciated Clark’s gesture with the coffee the day before, the truth was that she hated drinking out of Styrofoam cups. She wanted her coffee cup, which was just the right size and weight and fit nicely in her hand, but the damn thing seemed to have disappeared. Her first thought was that someone had stolen it, but she quickly admitted, if only to herself, that it was far more likely she’d just put it down somewhere and forgotten it. Even she realized that her lipstick-stained coffee mug wasn’t exactly a hot commodity. It was possible that someone had hidden it as a joke, though, just to irritate her. That was the kind of wacky prank that Jimmy still found riotously amusing.
But she wasn’t going to allow the missing coffee cup to deter her from her goal, which was to show Clark that she was capable of calmly, coolly helping herself to coffee. She made much better progress this day than she had the day before, managing to walk all the way across the newsroom and into Clark’s immediate vicinity without mishap.
“Morning, Lois.” Clark looked away from Pete and greeted her with a friendly smile.
“Someone stole my coffee cup!” she blurted.
Oh, God.
Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she just said good morning, like a normal person, instead of acting like a missing five dollar coffee mug was front page news? She shouldn’t be allowed out of the asylum, really she shouldn’t, and it wasn’t going to be any time at all before Clark figured that out and turned his attention to a normal woman. A sane woman. A woman whose brain actually communicated with her tongue.
Clark blinked at her, clearly taken aback, and then his face cleared and the smile reappeared. “Uh, that was me,” he said, sounding apologetic. He reached over to the coffee cart and picked up her coffee mug, which was filled with steaming coffee. “One Equal, two creamers, right?”
She felt her cheeks blaze with embarrassment. “Right,” she said faintly, accepting the coffee. He’d even washed the mug - the lipstick stains were gone from the rim. She wished she could just disappear into thin air.
“Well, mystery solved!” Pete laughed. “Bet you wish all your investigations were that easy. Guess I should get to work. Kent, good talking to you. I want to hear more about that bowl game some time.”
“Anytime, Pete.”
Lois waited until Pete had walked away and then managed a smile and said, “Thank you for the coffee.”
There. That had sounded perfect. Why couldn’t she have managed something like that in the first place?
“You’re welcome. I’d meant to leave it on your desk, but I got distracted talking to Pete, and you came in before I had the chance. Sorry about that.”
“No...it’s...I’m not always....” She sighed, having no idea how to explain. “I’m an idiot, all right? Just ignore me.”
“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore,” he said softly, with a look that left her feeling distinctly breathless.
“Doing what?” she managed.
“Ignoring one another.”
“Oh, right. Well, maybe you could just ignore me when I say stupid things. Of course, that would be pretty much all the time, wouldn’t it, so we’d be right back to ignoring each other. Or you’d be ignoring me, and I’d have to ignore you right back...because that’s just the way I am.”
“Competitive ignoring?” he asked, his mouth twitching.
“Well, it sounds silly when you put it like that,” she said, with as much dignity as she could muster.
He apparently couldn’t hold it in any longer: he burst out laughing. She tried to glare at him but gave it up when she realized that he was right. It was funny.
“I don’t want to ignore you, Lois,” he said, his eyes twinkling down at her.
“I don’t really want to be ignored,” she admitted. “But...I don’t want to be obvious, either,” she said in a rush. “You know, all...obnoxious, like some couples are, and people just can’t stand to be around them because they’re always so mushy and lovey-dovey and touching each other at inappropriate times and right out in public. I hate that.”
“So...the sex on the conference table is out, then?” he deadpanned.
Even though she knew he was teasing, the mental image his words inspired was enough to send a jolt of arousal flashing through her. Her breath hitched slightly and she swallowed hard, hoping he couldn’t hear the sudden racing of her heart. “I can’t...I can’t believe you just said that.”
“I shouldn’t have,” he said, looking earnest now and a little worried. “I was kidding - I hope you know that. But listen, we’re both finding our way with this. If I do something you don’t like, just tell me, and I won’t do it again.”
“So...honesty.” She said the word as if it were in some exotic foreign tongue and she wasn’t quite sure of its meaning.
He nodded. “Might make for a refreshing change.”
“Well, I’ll try anything once.” She realized the moment she said it that she’d left herself wide open for another suggestive comment, but if Clark noticed, he tactfully declined to pursue it. Instead, he just gave her a warm look of approval and changed the subject.
“I’m, uh, not exactly sure what I’m going to be working on today,” he said. “Perry came in right before you did and said something to me about it being ‘time to take the training wheels off’, which I guess means he has some assignments for me, but I don’t know yet what they are. Anyway...if we’re both around, would you like to have lunch together?”
A date! He was asking her for a date. And it was the perfect date, too. She wouldn’t have to obsess over what to wear, because she was already wearing it. She wouldn’t have to wonder what was going to happen afterwards, because they both knew that nothing could happen except that they’d go back to work. It didn’t even have to be romantic at all. Just two co-workers having lunch together, getting to know one another a little better. Assuming they could keep their hands off of one another - an assumption with, granted, little to no corroborative evidence so far - no one would think anything of it if they saw Lois Lane and Clark Kent having lunch together.
“Lois?” Clark’s worried voice snapped her out of her reverie and made her realize that she’d been so busy delighting in his invitation that she’d neglected to accept it.
“Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Lunch would be great. I don’t quite know what my day has in store yet either, but I should be able to get free.”
“I’ll catch up with you later, then, and we’ll try to work something out.”
“Sounds good.”
The background noise had increased as they’d talked, with more and more of the day shift arriving for work, and though they’d moved a little bit away from the coffee service and its constant flow of morning traffic, they still didn’t have much privacy. Suddenly, Lois felt self-conscious about the amount of time they’d spent standing there talking.
“Well, I guess we should both probably get to work,” she said.
“I guess so,” he agreed. “But wait....” He took a few steps over to his desk and retrieved a paper plate with a chocolate-covered doughnut, which he presented to her with a flourish.
“Pete brought in doughnuts this morning. I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so I just made a guess.”
She accepted the doughnut with undisguised delight. “And I thought I was supposed to be the psychic!”
“You like chocolate?”
“Mmm.” She dragged a finger through the icing and then popped it in her mouth, sucking the chocolate off slowly, with an exaggerated look of pleasure. “Love it,” she purred.
Clark’s expression told her that her tease had found its mark; for a few seconds his easy-going, boy-next-door persona seemed to fall away, and something raw and hungry took its place. “Have mercy, Lois,” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.
She smirked at him, glad to see him discomposed for once. She leaned forward and murmured, “That was for the conference room table comment.”
He got himself under control, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Touché, Miss Lane. Tell me, do you always get even?”
“You can count on it, Farmboy.”
And with a sassy wink and a grin, she walked away, feeling positively elated that the encounter had ended on such a high note. How could she have been anxious about seeing Clark? How could she have been nervous about an office romance? This was delightful. She had a sweet, wonderful, drop-dead gorgeous man bringing her coffee and doughnuts - chocolate doughnuts! - and flirting with her adorably. She’d have to be crazy to turn that down.
She was still smiling goofily at her computer screen when Jimmy arrived, presenting himself for the day’s duty. She pulled herself together with an effort. It wouldn’t do to have Jimmy noticing her preoccupation with Clark; she had no desire to subject herself to his juvenile speculations. So she wiped the smile from her face and got down to business, giving Jimmy some phone calls to make while she reviewed her notes from the Messenger investigation.
If her eyes occasionally strayed across the room to Clark…well, she was only human, after all.
_______________________________
“I need to go back to EPRAD,” she announced, smacking the button that would close her Messenger file. “I need to find out what caused that explosion.”
“And, uh, how is going back to EPRAD going to do that?” Jimmy asked cautiously. “That Dr. Baines didn’t sound interested in telling us anything else.”
“She’s not,” Lois agreed. “And all our phone calls have been dead ends, which is why we’re going to have to find it out for ourselves.”
“Um...how?” Jimmy asked again.
“I don’t have the slightest idea,” she admitted. “What I do know is that the answers aren’t in this newsroom, so we’re going to have to go get them. I think it’s time to divide and conquer. I want you to go over to Platt’s place and see if he can pull together a copy of this report he claims to have submitted. I’m going to go to EPRAD and sniff around.”
“I can’t go to EPRAD with you?” Jimmy asked hopefully. “I could maybe go to Platt’s place afterward.”
“I’m not going to see Dr. Baines, Jimmy,” she said dryly. “In fact, I’m going to do everything I can to stay out of her way.”
“EPRAD’s still cool, and that place of Platt’s is....” He took one look at Lois’s face and reversed course. “Cool, too,” he said quickly. “I’ve always loved, um...rats and stuff.”
“Good answer.” Lois scribbled the exact address on a piece of paper in case Jimmy had forgotten it, ripped it off, and handed it to him. “If he can actually produce this report, do you think maybe you could get one of your friends at STAR Labs to take a look at it?”
“I can ask,” Jimmy said, shoving his rolling chair away from her desk. “Let me make a phone call.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” She reached down and collected her purse. “I should be back before lunchtime, if all goes well. We’ll compare notes then, all right?”
“Gotcha,” he said, already reaching for a phone at his temporary desk near hers. “Be careful.”
“I always am.”
He snorted at that. “Right.”
She ignored him, looking instead in Clark’s direction. He was at his desk, on the phone, and she moved slowly towards him, hoping she wasn’t being obvious, hoping he’d have time to hang up before she arrived, so that she wouldn’t have to stand around waiting to speak to him and making a spectacle of herself. Compared to her performance the previous two times she’d approached his desk, however, she was the epitome of calm, so she supposed that was progress of a sort.
He was still talking when she reached him, but he held up two fingers, indicating that he’d be off soon. She heard him confirming an appointment of some sort, watched him scribble something down on his calendar, and then he was hanging up and greeting her with his brilliant smile. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” She wished she could think of something witty and memorable to say, but she had nothing. “Um, I just wanted to tell you that I’m going out...my story, you know...and I’m not exactly sure when I’ll be back. I didn’t want you to think...um, that I was standing you up. If I can get back I will.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I’m a journalist, too, remember?”
“Right.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I know I haven’t been exactly consistent, and I don’t want you to think I’m using the story to avoid you. Because I’m not.”
“Lois, a man died the other day. A transport full of colonists may be going up next week. Don’t get me wrong - I really want to have lunch with you - but I think what you’re doing is a little more important. If you don’t make it back today, we’ll go tomorrow. Or the next day.” He smiled. “I’m new in town and writing stories about the groundbreaking for the new Cost-Mart. My dance card is pretty much empty.”
She smiled at the realization that he was putting himself at her disposal. It made her feel secure and unusually generous. “It doesn’t have to be, you know,” she said teasingly. “Cat’s not the only woman who’s noticed you. As a matter of fact, I overheard a couple of women in the restroom the other day composing a poem about a certain part of your anatomy.”
The look on his face was priceless - a hilarious mixture of disbelief and mortification. “They were what!?”
“Not that part,” she assured him.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “Can you give me a hint? One that maybe won’t embarrass me into the next millennium?”
“Now where would be the fun in that?” she teased.
“Lo-is,” he pleaded, and she so enjoyed the sound of him pleading with her that she gave in much more quickly than she usually would.
“Okay,” she said. “You’re sitting on it.”
“I guess it’s too much to hope that they were writing a poem about my chair.” He opened his eyes and dared a peek at her. “There are lots of good rhymes with chair, you know. Air, fair, hair, bear, lair, square, dare....”
“Grass, pass, lass, sass, mass...” she countered.
“…blare, care - darn, this is getting harder – tear, pear…”
“Mutt, rut, putt, what, cut, lut…” she was laughing so hard she could hardly talk, let alone think of rhymes.
He was laughing, too. “Wait a minute! I need a judge’s ruling on ‘lut’. That’s not a word.”
“Of course it is. Which of us has three Kerth awards?”
He raised his eyebrows. “They give Kerths for making up words?”
She was about to tell him what she thought of that when Perry’s voice intruded on their silliness. “You know, I think I liked it better when you two were just sneaking peeks at each other across the newsroom,” the editor grumbled, coming up behind them. “Don’t you both have work to do?”
Lois blushed, even though she knew from experience that Perry wasn’t nearly as annoyed as he sounded. “I was just leaving, Chief – to go back to EPRAD. I had to, um, tell Clark something before I left.”
“Uh huh.” He gave her a skeptical look. “So, have you told him yet?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re still here because…?” he prompted.
“We were, um, talking about poetry.” She was kind of hoping that sounded highbrow and literary enough to impress Perry. She heard Clark choke back a laugh but didn’t dare look in his direction.
“Poetry,” Perry repeated.
“And semantics,” Clark added helpfully.
“You two must think I just fell off a turnip truck. Lois, get out of here. I’ve got a hole in my front page you could drive a tank through.”
“I’m going, I’m going!” She shot Clark an apologetic look and saw that he was looking nervous. She would tell him later that Perry White was about 90% bluster, but there was nothing she could do about it just then. With a little wave, she headed for the elevator.
____________________________
Three hours later, she returned to the Daily Planet, her silly, cheerful mood having been destroyed by one Dr. Antoinette Baines.
She was really starting to hate that woman.
She had gone to all the trouble of talking her way into EPRAD, which was no small triumph. She’d had to flash a little bit more than just her press pass at the guard, but not too much more. The flirting had just softened him up enough that she could launch into a rapid-fire speech that had covered everything from freedom of the press to her close and personal friendship with Dr. Baines (Toni to her close friends, of course) and eventually the guard had let her in just because he had a line of traffic backing up behind her and hadn’t been able to reach Dr. Baines on the phone to get confirmation of her ‘guest’. Lois felt a prick of conscience that she had probably cost that nice young man his job, but then she consoled herself with the fact that if the kid was going to let in every reporter who flashed a little cleavage at him, he probably didn’t deserve the job anyway.
She had arrived just in time to see the wreckage of the Messenger being moved into a hangar for investigation. She would have to tell Perry that. She would have to tell Perry that had she not stopped and talked to Clark, she’d have arrived too soon and probably been caught before she even had a chance to get a glimpse of the shuttle. Of course, then he’d just remind her that had he not stopped by Clark’s desk and given her a shove out the door, she’d have missed seeing the shuttle completely, which was true enough that she decided the conversation wasn’t worth pursuing.
But she’d seen the shuttle - that was the material point. She’d seen it being slowly dragged towards a huge hangar, and she’d been impressed with how enormous it was; they didn’t seem quite as big when you were watching them be launched on television, or even at EPRAD a safe distance away. But the Messenger was massive - massive and so very wounded, it’s left side ripped out by the blast that had killed its commander. It had impressed her with its size and its damage and its appearance of shattered dignity. Seeing it, she had felt the tragedy of its destruction afresh, had renewed her determination to find out what had happened to it and why.
But that was pretty much all she’d had time to do. There was a swarm of scientists standing around just waiting for the Messenger to be relocated, and to a nosy reporter, each one represented an opportunity. She was just sizing them up, trying to decide which one would be her first target, when she was approached by two broad-shouldered security guards and frogmarched to Dr. Baines’ office, an experience which did nothing whatsoever for her pride or her temper. Apparently, her friend the guard wasn’t quite as incompetent as she’d thought.
Dr. Baines’ reception had been even chillier at this meeting than it had been at the one before, which was perhaps understandable in light of the circumstances. She informed Lois in no uncertain terms that the investigation into the Messenger explosion was classified and that any further attempts to undermine the integrity of that investigation would result in criminal prosecution...blah, blah, blah. Lois had heard that speech so many times she could repeat it in her sleep, but she couldn’t remember a single time she’d actually heeded it. Dr. Baines didn’t need to know that, however, so despite what it cost her in pride, Lois did what she could to appear intimidated and chastened and then allowed herself to be ‘escorted’ back to her car without protest.
By the time she got back to the Planet, it was 12:45, and she wondered if Clark had gone to lunch without her. It would probably be best if he had, she thought. In the mood she was in, she wasn’t likely to be a very fun lunch date anyway. She did notice, however, that for the first time since Clark had started at the Planet, she wasn’t a nervous wreck during the elevator ride up to the newsroom. She didn’t know if that was because things had gone so well between them that morning or if it was because she was still distracted by her irritation with Toni Baines and her failure to find out anything at EPRAD; whatever it was, she was grateful.
She did look for Clark the minute she stepped off the elevator, and her mood lifted a little when she saw him seated at his desk, his fingers flying over his keyboard. As if some sixth sense had alerted him to her presence, he paused and turned around, a smile lighting his face at the sight of her. It was impossible not to be affected, impossible not to smile back, no matter how discouraged she was feeling. Before she had time to even think about it, her feet took her straight over to him.
He’d taken off his jacket and slung it across the back of his chair, and for a crazy moment, she had the urge to rest her hands on his broad shoulders, just to feel the warmth of his skin seeping through the cotton of his shirt - to feel his strength. There would be such comfort in that.
“Hi,” she said, clasping her hands tightly in front of her to keep them from getting any ideas.
“Hi,” he returned. “How did it go?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.” He looked properly sympathetic, despite having no idea what had happened. “So, um, lunch. Is it too late? Or do you need to work on your story? Because I’ll understand if you do.”
“I thought maybe you’d already eaten,” she said. “I’m sorry it took me so long at EPRAD, and I do have a lot of work. But if you still want to go, I could probably get away for a quick lunch.”
“I haven’t already eaten, and I’d still love to go,” he told her simply.
“I might not be the best company today,” she warned him.
“I think I’ll risk it.”
She smiled. “Let me just check in with Jimmy first, okay?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
She found Jimmy at the copier, laboriously duplicating the huge pile of tattered pages that constituted Platt’s “report,” so that he could take the copy over to STAR labs, as she’d requested. Seeing it, she had to suppress the urge to scream, thinking of how incredibly tedious it was going to be sifting through it. But she managed to keep her temper and even to thank Jimmy for his efforts before informing him that she was going out for lunch.
“Oh,” he said, just as she’d turned to go. “I forgot. You have a message on your desk from Lex Luthor.”
Her eyes lit up at that little bit of news, and she hurried to her phone, deciding that Clark could wait the five or so minutes it would take to set up her dinner with Luthor. She was unable to speak with him personally, but his secretary, who had been informed as to the reason she was calling, was happy to help her set up their meeting. After all the years of trying, it was finally happening: Two nights hence, she’d be having dinner with the third richest man in the world, and if all went well, her in-depth story about him would grace the front page of the next day’s paper. It didn’t quite make up for her run-in with Antoinette Baines, but it helped.
The knowledge that she would have a few quiet minutes with Clark helped, too. When she looked across the room and caught Clark’s eye, she smiled and nodded toward the elevators, indicating that she was ready to go.
_____________________________
The sidewalks were crowded, it being lunch time, and Lois and Clark paused outside the Daily Planet building, both realizing at the same moment that they weren’t sure where they were going.
“Since you only have a few minutes,” Clark said, “would you like to just get a sandwich and maybe eat it at the park? It’ll be quieter there than at a restaurant.”
She nodded, pleased with the suggestion. “That sounds great,” she said. “There’s a deli down this way about a block.” She pointed. “It’s not too bad.”
“Let’s go.”
They set off together, neither talking, but it was a companionable silence rather than an awkward one. Once they reached the deli, their conversation was centered around ordering sandwiches, and it wasn’t until they were perched on a park bench near the fountain that Clark ventured to mention her apparent displeasure with her morning outing.
“I’m sorry if your story isn’t going well.”
She sighed and tossed a potato chip to some nearby pigeons, just to see them fight it out. “Jimmy picked up a report this morning that might help, assuming we can make heads or tails of it. My trip to EPRAD was a bust, though. That woman - that Dr. Baines - she had me thrown out by security.” She gave him a wry smile. “I’m pretty sure I hate her.”
“Want me to go beat her up for you?” he offered.
What an inspired idea! Just imagining it cheered her immeasurably. “Would you do that?”
“Actually, no,” he admitted. “I don’t think I could hit a woman.”
“Well, if you could handle the guards, I could probably beat her up myself.”
He chuckled. “Let’s save that as Plan B, all right?”
“You’re assuming I have a Plan A,” she groused, but she realized that just talking with Clark about the situation had improved her outlook considerably. “The thing that got to me, though, was that I actually saw the shuttle. It just looked so...wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
She thought for a few seconds, unsure of whether she could put what she was feeling into words. “One whole side was gutted by the explosion. Seeing it up close was...it just looked so...violated, and it made me think of Commander Laderman - of what it must have been like to be inside there when it exploded. Do you think he knew what was going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” Clark said gently. “I hope not.”
“The thing is, I’m convinced it wasn’t an accident. I just can’t prove it. But whoever it was, whoever did this - they shouldn’t get away with it!”
“No,” he agreed. “They shouldn’t. Which is why you’re not giving up, right?”
“Right,” she said. “As soon as I get back, I’m going to tackle Platt’s report. And Jimmy is taking a copy of it to STAR Labs, so even if I can’t figure it out, maybe someone there can.”
“Who’s Platt?” he asked, and before she quite knew what was happening, she was telling him the whole story about the crazy man who’d come bursting into the newsroom insisting that there was a conspiracy to sabotage the Messenger, about her visit to Platt’s condemned apartment building and his claim that he’d warned Dr. Baines about the problem with the coolant systems, about her futile trips to EPRAD and Dr. Baines’ determination to keep everything classified.
It did cross her mind during the telling that she was doing something that she’d promised herself she would never, ever do: She was making a free gift of information which could land Clark Kent the story of the year, if he chose to follow up on it and actually managed to beat her to the scoop. But she wasn’t twenty-one years old anymore, and she had an established track record as an investigative reporter, something Clark clearly lacked. Furthermore, Perry knew that the Messenger explosion was her assignment, and if Clark or anyone else took her notes and ran with them, Perry would take her side; she was sure of that.
And at the heart of it, of course, was the gut feeling that Clark wasn’t Claude - that he was asking about Platt because he was genuinely interested and concerned, and not because he was looking to steal her story. Maybe she was testing him a little. Maybe she was testing herself. Because if this thing with Clark was going to work at all, she was going to have to learn to trust him, and he was going to have to show that he could be trusted.
And more than ever, she found herself wanting it to work. When she wasn’t letting her nerves get the better of her, she found Clark remarkably easy to talk to and easy to be around. With Clark, she found it easier to be a little more like Wanda Detroit - someone who was actually capable of laughing and having fun in the middle of a workday. She remembered the night she’d met Clark, how she’d decided to play Wanda with a dash of Lois thrown in. Now she was playing Lois with a dash of Wanda, and she was beginning to think it might be a nice way to live.
“We should probably get back,” she said reluctantly, once her story was told. “I need to quit talking about all of this and actually do something about it.”
“I have work, too,” he said, crumpling up their trash and stuffing it in the deli bag. “Nothing so exciting as your story, but it still needs to be done.”
“Here, I’ll take that.” She reached for the trash bag and tossed it neatly into a nearby trashcan.
“Good shot,” he commented.
“I’m a woman of many talents.”
“I never doubted it.” He smiled and she felt the familiar flutter in her belly, the one that she always felt when he smiled in just that way, and she knew it was for her.
“I was wondering,” he said lightly, “if this was one of those situations where touching in public would be obnoxious.”
He wants to kiss me, she thought dizzily, and maybe it was obnoxious, but there was no way she was going to stop him. “Uh, no,” she said softly. “I don’t think that would be obnoxious at all.”
“Good.” And with that, he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and pausing for a moment to admire the look of their hands joined together. “Thank you for having lunch with me,” he said, giving her hand a little squeeze.
And then they walked together, hand-in-hand, down the quiet path that would take them back to the hustle of the city streets and, from there, to the rest of their day.
