The Kiss Off
By CC Aiken and Erin Klingler
Fundraiser Fic, 2005
from part 2:
She had one shoe tied before she remembered that the keys clutched in her fist were absolutely useless. That Stan the mechanic was holding her means of escape hostage.
"Damn." Expelling a frustrated sigh, she kicked the one shoe as far as she could, letting it hit the wall with a resounding thunk, and flopped back onto the bed. For the millionth time, she wished she could call Clark--not to back out of the contest, but just to hear his voice, maybe even vent her problems.
But this time he was part of the problem. Him. Superman. The man whose name she wouldn’t think. And what she had done to all of them.
Resigned, she shucked off the sweatshirt and picked up the battered copy of ‘War and Peace’ from her bedside table. It was penance. She would bore herself to sleep, or quite possibly to death, whichever came first. But she wouldn’t call Clark and whine about her life, or force him to try to make her feel better. She wouldn’t. Instead, she would just see him at the contest.
~*~*~*~*~
Now on to part 3...
"It’s not like I thought it would be," Clark said around a mouthful of pie his mom had been forward thinking enough to hide from his dad. "I thought things between us would be back to normal by now. I thought if I just took back what I said to her that day in the park--"
"What *did* you say?" Martha scooted her chair closer. She had been nearly asleep when the familiar 'whoosh' signaling her son’s arrival had lifted the covers and blown her book from her nightstand. He hadn’t been exactly graceful in his entrance, which meant he was distracted. Tense. Unhappy.
Martha held in a sigh, just as she'd done every time he’d visited this summer. But at least the pie seemed to be working and loosening him up. It was no kryptonite, but it came as close to rendering her invulnerable son vulnerable as anything else. At least it seemed to be rendering him talkative. Which was really what she was after.
He was eyeing her somewhat suspiciously now, so she put on her best loving-mom smile and patted his hand. "If you don’t feel like telling me, dear…"
He sighed and tipped his chair back on two legs in precisely the way she’d been telling him not to for nearly twenty years. She let it go this time. He was ready to spill. "I said a lot of things," he said to the ceiling. "And so did Superman."
"Oh, Clark." She tried to take the censor out of those words, but really, sometimes she just wanted to shake him.
"I said I loved her. Then I said I didn’t." Absently, he pushed his fork through the crumbs on his plate, and Martha grimaced at the scratches he was putting into Jonathan’s mother’s china.
Then again, she had never particularly cared for Jonathan’s mother…
"Oh, honey," she said, because she had to say something, and she really didn’t know where to start. "That’s...not great."
He laughed a humorless chuckle. "That about sums it up. It’s not great. It’s bad, Mom. I don’t know how it got so bad."
"Maybe it’s time to just clear the air," she said briskly. "Whatever it is that you’ve been trying, it’s not working, right? So you need a new strategy. And it might go from bad to worse, but maybe it has to before it gets better."
"Maybe it’s time you told her." The gruff, sleepy voice of her husband startled both of them.
"Sorry I woke you, Dad," said Clark.
"You didn’t," Jonathan said. "I smelled pie." He helped himself to a generous serving, the only kind he knew, and settled down at the table.
"You think I should tell her? Really? You’re the last person I ever expected to say that," Clark said. "What’s changed?"
"What’s changed is that you’re not happy," Jonathan said, pausing long enough to hold his son’s gaze. "You love her. You want her in your life. Maybe it’s time to go for broke."
"But I did that. I told her that I loved her. And she...she wanted..." His voice trailed away and he let the front legs of his chair hit the floor loudly as he moved to his feet.
"She wanted Superman," said Martha wearily. "Who, by the way, is you, dear. I know because I do your tailoring."
"Right," Clark said, staring out the kitchen window at nothing. "I know, Mom."
"You do, but you don’t," she answered, maybe a bit heatedly, since Jonathan’s hand moved over hers and gave it a cautioning squeeze. She exhaled, inhaled, put her mom-smile back on. "I don’t think it has to be so complicated."
"I know," Clark said again, and this time when he turned around to face them, she saw something different about him. Something less defeated. Something even...hopeful. "I’ve got a plan. Something much simpler."
She sat bolt-upright. "Do tell."
He smiled. A small smile, but a real one, one that reached his eyes. "I’m going to kiss her."
"Kiss her?" Martha said, bewildered.
"Kiss her?" Jonathan echoed, nearly choking on his pie to do so.
"Kiss her," Clark returned firmly, the small smile growing. "For hours and hours. For as long as it takes."
"Now *that’s* a strategy," she laughed.
"Crazy enough to work," Jonathan agreed.
~*~*~*~*~
"Where *is* he?" Lois voiced silently. She glanced down at her watch for what felt like the hundredth time since she'd arrived that morning at the showroom where the Kiss Off was being held.
It was eight fifty-five. The contest started at nine. Where was he?
Fresh doubts started weighing down upon her. Maybe he wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d decided the whole thing was too crazy to take part in. Maybe he had more sense than she did.
She let a long, fretful sigh slip out as she dropped her arm to her side and once more searched the gathered crowd with anxious eyes. As she did, she tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach.
Clark being late--and giving some insane excuse upon his arrival--wasn't unheard of, but today.... Did it have to be today? He knew how important this thing was to her. She needed a car. Not that simply being here would get her that car...
Looking around at the crowded showroom, she estimated there to be at least a hundred contestants milling about, all waiting eagerly for the contest to begin.
She frowned. Apparently, she wasn't alone in her need for a car. Her gaze shifted to the six brand new, beautiful, gleaming vehicles parked in a large circle in the middle of the showroom, the overhead lights dancing along their flawless paint. Her eye went to one in particular. The silver Jeep Grand Cherokee.
She'd seen it the minute she'd walked in and knew it was the one for her. A slow, determined smile slid across her face as her gaze caressed its sleek, strong lines. Silver. There wasn’t any silver on Superman anywhere.
She gave the other cars another perfunctory glance. Of course she realized there were other choices--the grey four-door sedan. The cute, two-door sports car. Even the family-sized mini-van had better gas mileage, though Lois cringed at the very thought of ever being behind the wheel of one of those.
No. There was no question in her mind. It was the Jeep Grand Cherokee or nothing. And Lois Lane never settled for 'nothing.'
Just then she heard her name being called by a familiar voice, and she turned. When she saw Clark hurrying toward her through the crowd, she felt her whole body sigh with relief. He was here. He'd made it.
She felt a smile move across her lips on its own volition, and she moved toward him. Then she stopped.
What was he wearing? Lois glanced down at her own jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt, then looked back up at Clark's work suit, white shirt, and customary wild tie. He looked like he had come straight from the Planet. What kind of kissing contest attire was this? Didn't he realize they were going to be sitting on a car for hours on end? Why hadn’t he thought to dress for the long day ahead?
~*~*~*~*~
Clark smiled brightly at Lois and closed the distance between them. As he drew nearer, though, his smile slipped a bit at her obvious scrutiny.
"What?" he asked, glancing down at himself self-consciously, wondering what telling residue he might have missed before he’d hurried in.
She moved closer to hiss in his ear. "Clark, this is an endurance contest! And why on earth are you dressed like you just came from work? It's Saturday!"
"I know," Clark hedged. "I had to catch up on a couple of things at the Planet before heading here. And then I was delayed because there was this pile-up on the Interstate..." And clearing that pile-up had been more sticky and involved than he’d thought it would be.
Seeing the tense expression on her face, Clark realized her worry wasn’t as much over his wardrobe as it was his late arrival. As if he would miss this. He couldn’t help but smile. There was no kryptonite, no villain, and no kryptonite-touting villain that could have kept him away.
But Lois wouldn’t know that. Or that he had definitely regretted the impulse to help with the interstate pile-up as the time had ticked away this morning.
"Don’t worry, Lois. We’re going to do fine," he sought to reassure her, hoping to put her at ease. To put them both at ease. He loosened the knot of his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. "How about this?"
She let out a long breath and visibly relaxed a little, looking him up and down slowly. "Better. But that still doesn’t look comfortable. You see that guy?" She jerked her thumb toward a man dressed in oversized sweat pants and a rumpled T-shirt. "He has the right idea."
Clark raised his eyebrows. Yeah, the guy with the "right idea" was certainly making a fashion statement. A ‘just fell out of bed after sleeping in this for three days’ sort of statement.
"Okay," he said, seeing what he was up against. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, careful that the blue spandex ones went first. "How about now?"
Lois sighed. "I guess it’s the best we can do. No time to send you home to change."
"It’ll be okay. I promise." He caught her eye, projecting a confidence he was far from feeling. There was no clothing choice that was going to make this more comfortable for either of them. He knew that. Still, no matter how awkward, no matter how anything, win or lose, he wouldn’t be anywhere else. Or, heaven forbid, have Lois here with anyone else.
"CK, you made it." Jimmy suddenly appeared beside them, a big grin on his face and a camera hanging around his neck.
Clark looked at him in confusion. "Jimmy, what are you doing here?"
"Since I wrote the initial article about the Kiss Off, Perry wanted me to come and take some pictures...you know, gather a little intel--er, information," Jimmy corrected himself, a look of apprehension momentarily crossing his face. "Yeah. Information. For a follow up story, I mean." He shifted his feet uncomfortably, then took a step back and gestured at the gathered crowd. "I'll...uh...talk to you guys later. I'm going to go take some pictures." And with that, he was gone.
Lois frowned. "What was that all about? Did he seem nervous to you?"
"Now that you mention it, he did. I wonder why?" Clark said.
Lois shook her head and muttered under her breath, "As if this isn't going to be awkward enough, I have Jimmy hovering around taking pictures of the whole thing..."
Clark pretended not to hear, but he couldn't help it. And he couldn't help wondering if she was having second thoughts. She wasn't, was she?
Clearing his throat and hoping for the best, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "So tell me. What have I missed, besides the dressing-for-comfort part?"
"The rules," she said, perking back up and causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. "But I can catch you up when we get started. Right now we pick a car. If we outlast the other couples, it’s ours."
"See one you like?" He surveyed the parking lot for the first time.
"That one." Lois pointed towards a Jeep Grand Cherokee, not quite as big as her previous SUV, but close.
He winced. "I don’t know, Lois. How would you fit that thing into the parking deck?"
"The same way I fit the Land Cruiser." She rolled her eyes.
"Ah." As he recalled that was done with a good deal of swearing and side-swiping. "What about...that one?" He pointed to the basic grey sedan.
Maybe it wasn’t the nicest of the lot, but he was pretty sure it didn’t deserve the snort and scoff of derision it evoked from her.
"It makes sense," he argued. "It’s practical. Reliable."
"Boring," she added firmly. And he should have stopped there.
"Just because it’s reliable doesn’t mean it’s boring. Sure, it isn’t...flashy or...rich enough to own an airplane, but you can count on it. It will always be there for you."
He watched as her amused scowl was slowly replaced with a confused frown. For his part, he was still reviewing the choice of words that had fallen from his mouth. Whatever had possessed him...?
"Did you just say that car isn't rich enough to own an airplane?" Lois had her hands on her hips, her head tilted. She certainly wasn’t studying the selection of vehicles any more.
"Uh." He shook his head. "What I meant was...it’s a far more...economical choice. You do know our natural resources are limited, right? No sense draining them." It was lame and he knew it. He braced himself for whatever might come next.
"Interesting," she said. And nothing more. He really wished she would say something else. Anything else. Even more snorting and scoffing--just not the long, studious silence which told him very clearly she was reading him. Measuring his remark. And what she was coming up with was...probably exactly right.
He opened his mouth to try to explain, though he had no idea what feasible explanation there could be, but she got there first.
"You’re just sad there aren’t any tractors to choose from, Farmboy."
It took him a beat, then another one, but then he groaned and played along, gladly. She was giving his comments a pass, giving him an easy out. No explanation demanded. Thank goodness. "Hey, tractors cover a lot of ground, you know."
She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her impractical car choice. He made a show of dragging his feet, of coming along reluctantly, but inside his spirits lifted. She was touching him voluntarily. And she’d called him Farmboy. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he'd heard that.
Suddenly he was very glad they were in this ridiculous circumstance together. He was going to win her an enormous, gas-guzzling car if it was the last thing he did.
~*~*~*~*~
Clutching Clark's arm tightly, Lois hurried over to the Grand Cherokee, a look of determination fixed onto her face. She paused when they reached it, and she briefly eyed the other competitors who were already seated on various parts of the car. Spotting a small, open space on the front bumper, she changed directions and headed for it, dragging Clark with her.
When she reached her destination, she stopped, her eyes widening. The one couple sitting nearest to them look fairly normal. Nondescript. The other couple did...not.
The girl, who appeared to be in her late teens, was dressed all in black, and a series of piercings adorned the entire curve of both ears and both nostrils. Her extensive jewelry choices didn't end there, though, Lois noticed. She had large, gaudy rings on each of her fingers, and several chunky bracelets on each of her wrists. The jet-black hair fastened up in a sloppy, makeshift clump and dark lipstick and dramatic eye makeup reminded Lois more of Halloween than every-day wear.
But she wasn't the only one who looked…different. The spiked-brown-haired guy she was with--obviously a boyfriend, judging by the way they were draped all over each other--looked no less strange. He clearly adored the "grunge" look--his ripped, faded red-white-and-orange plaid, button-up shirt hung open over an equally as ripped and grungy white T-shirt, and his jeans, smudged and dirt-streaked, had large holes over each knee and shredded hems. A quick glance told her he had several piercings, as well.
'Interesting competition,' Lois thought. She eyed the small space next to them. And the even smaller space on the other side of them at the end of the bumper.
Clark had picked up on her deliberations because he leaned into her side and whispered, "Lois, you can't be serious. Even if you convinced them to scoot down a little, there's no way we'd both fit there. There are already four people on the bumper."
She hesitated. Maybe Clark was right. They would be sitting in one spot for a long time. Maybe squishing between four people on a small, hard, metal bumper wasn't such a good idea. But the back bumper was already full, too. What was she supposed to do, though? *This* was the car she wanted. Where were they supposed to sit?
Just then Clark nudged her, and she turned to see where he was gesturing. One of the couples at the next car over had taken a thin, promotional blanket from a table in the center of the circled cars, and was settling it onto on of the car's hoods for them to sit on.
Lois glanced at the open expanse of her Cherokee’s hood and knew it was the perfect solution. Dropping Clark's arm, she hurried over for one of the few remaining blankets and returned to him a moment later.
Eyeing Pierced Couple with ill-disguised impatience, she asked, "Can you guys at least scoot over so we can get up past you?"
The girl rolled her eyes and the guy grunted, which Lois could only assume meant yes, as they slid over enough so that Clark could spread the small blanket on the hood. Then he held out his hand to Lois. Smiling at the chivalrous gesture, she put her hand into his and allowed him to steady her as she stepped up onto the bumper and then sat down on the hood, her legs dangling over the grill. He climbed up next to her a moment later and smiled.
She felt a strange, quivery sensation in her stomach as Clark's thigh brushed up against hers. Yes, she was nervous. She knew that. She had been trying and failing to pretend otherwise all week. But this butterfly-in-the-stomach sensation wasn’t the same as what had become the usual I’m-going-to-kiss-my-partner-for-hours one. In fact, these came disconcertingly close to her former Superman-is-so-dreamy butterflies. Butterflies she’d like to pluck the wings right off of, come to think of it.
'Stop it, Lane,' she told herself fiercely, deliberately keeping her leg alongside his and maintaining contact because there was no reason in the world not to. This was Clark. Good Ol’ Clark. Friend-to-All Clark…
Her stomach roiled and pitched, apparently tardy getting the message that the body pressing next to hers was just Friend-to-All Clark. So Lois did what she did best. She went to work, turning to survey the competition. The better to know them, the better to beat them. From their higher vantage point atop the Cherokee’s hood, she was able to get a good look at who they were up against.
"There are a lot of people here," Clark said quietly in an attempt to keep their conversation at least semi-private. "Have your eye on anyone in particular? Who’s the team to beat?"
Lois frowned and shook her head. "Can't say for sure," she answered, glancing at the people around them. "I’ve been trying to decide if anyone looks as desperate as I am."
She glanced over at Clark and was a little surprised to see the look of sympathy, entirely incongruent to the circumstances, in his eyes.
The moment passed, and Clark's expression returned to a more neutral one. "So," he said, shifting his weight to get more comfortable. "Fill me in on these rules that I missed."
Lois flicked her hair over her shoulder and leaned back on her elbows on the hood. "It's pretty simple, really," she explained. "When the competition starts, everybody starts kissing. We get a five-minute break at the top of every hour, a half-hour lunch break at noon, and a half-hour dinner break at seven."
Before she could say more, the squeal of a microphone sounded in the room, drawing everybody's attention. Lois and Clark both turned to the center of the circle where a stocky, middle-aged man with thinning brown hair stepped up onto a low, wooden box and tapped a finger on the microphone.
"Can everybody hear me?" he spoke, his gravelly voice giving the evidence of a life-time of smoking. When everybody nodded or called out a 'yes,' he smiled and brushed an invisible wrinkle off the front of his dark grey suit.
Lois leaned closer to Clark and murmured, "That's Dan--Dealin' Dan's owner--and the contest director. He's a piece of work. He actually flirted with me when I showed up at the sign-up table alone. Asked if I 'needed a partner.'" She made a scoffing noise and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like *that's* appealing. Stan the mechanic is a more attractive choice."
Clark grinned and looked back with her at the man as he started to speak. "I want to welcome you all out here today. We'll begin this thing in just a minute, but I'd first like to thank our sponsors..."
Lois tuned him out as she glanced around the room, sizing up her competitors one last time.
She was surprised by the number of people willing to spend a long, hard day trying to win something with no guarantees. Clearly everyone liked winning. And everyone was in the market for a little luck.
Lois straightened and lifted her chin in determination. It didn't matter how many of them there were. She was past due for her luck to change. Today would be the perfect day for it. She tuned back in to Dealin' Dan as he went over the rules once more.
Finally, he finished reading from his list of notes and grinned at the couples all looking up at him expectantly. "So, are you guys ready for this?"
"Yeah!" came the excited cry from the crowd.
"Then let's get this thing started!" he yelled, and his echoing words were soon swallowed up by the roar of the people in the room. When the din had died down a bit, he spoke again into the microphone. "Let's do this at a countdown of ten. You ready? Ten! Nine..."
The larger portion of the gathered crowd counted along with him, their enthusiasm contagious. Lois looked over at Clark and giggled, feeling suddenly giddy. Her voice joined the others for a couple of counts, but her smile quickly faded when she caught the small smile of nervous anticipation on Clark's face, and the strange look of longing…
All at once, she was transported to a time months ago when she'd seen that same longing. A time when...
She swallowed past the lump in her throat when the day at the park so many months ago came rushing to the forefront of her mind, barraging her with memories. Larger than life, she could see that look he'd had as he'd professed his love for her.
The very same look he had right now.
She drew in her breath sharply. No. It was well established that she didn’t read men well. She thought she’d had an unspoken understanding with Superman, based almost solely on what she’d wanted to see in his eyes. And she’d assumed that...the man whose name she no longer let herself think...had had a look of steadiness, assuredness about him. That was so far off the mark it was laughable.
Clark was merely nervous like she was. She needed to stop revisiting the day in the park and remember the other day. The day Mr. Stern had arrived with the Daily Planet globe, announcing his plans to rebuild. Clark had admitted he'd only said he'd loved her to keep her from… He’d said that he hadn't really meant it.
Feeling hot and cold at the same time, Lois saw the situation for what it was. It was awkward, pure and simple. They had both known it would be, hadn’t they? And that, and only that, was reflecting back to her in Clark’s gaze.
She shook herself free of her thoughts--for all of a second as the final countdown loomed large and daunting.
"Six!"
"Maybe we should have some rules of our own," she blurted.
"Five!"
"Such as?" he murmured, looking at her quizzically.
"Four!"
"You know, that this is just business. An arrangement. We’re here for the car and that’s it."
"Three!"
"You said that all in one breath," he commented.
"Two!"
"And I know all that, Lois, okay?"
Lois nodded. Her heart jumped as their shoulders touched, and she attempted to force its furious thudding to slow.
Their faces moved closer.
Rubbing her damp hands along her jean-clad thighs, Lois made herself look upward--into Clark's intense gaze. A mixture of emotions flickered through those warm, brown eyes splattered with a hint of hazel.
She could do this. She’d get through it somehow.
"One!" A chorus of air horns and wild cheers from the surrounding spectators filled the air.
Lois shut her mind to everything else and leaned into him.
~*~*~*~*~
to be continued in part 4...
