A/N:
Hi guys, sorry it’s taken me so long to post this part. If you need a complete refresher, here's the
TOC .
I’ve written a very small additional note at the end that I didn’t want to put here in case it ruins any of this part, but some of the more gentle readers (if any gentle readers are still reading this, which I would imagine is unlikely!
) may want to check it out before going any further.
*.*.*.
from Part Two:
Our luck was in. There was no-one waiting outside what turned out to be an abandoned warehouse waiting to gun us down as we emerged from the flame-engulfed building. God bless incompetent criminals. We walked away from the burning warehouse towards the city centre where we could find a taxi to transport us home, with me mentally mapping the route so that I could at least tell Henderson where we had been. Clark kept the blanket wrapped around his body and his head low to avoid recognition. I could only hope that his red boots wouldn’t stand out too much in the dark.
When we finally found a cab, I asked the driver to take us to my apartment, more out of automation than rational thought process. Clark and I still hadn’t spoken but he didn’t complain and ask to be taken somewhere else, like to his girlfriend’s house or his home. It would have been a terrible idea to go to Clark’s, not that I had any idea where that was but it would have been a media circus within minutes. With no better plan I decided to bring him home with me.*.*.*.
Part Three*.*.*.
The journey wasn’t that long and we had soon made it into my apartment building. I had paid off the driver and given him a much higher tip than usual as I noticed his interested looks at Clark, who still had the blanket wrapped around his suit. Whether he recognised him or not I wasn’t sure, but it was obvious from his hunched figure that something was wrong with him and I probably should have taken him to hospital. The driver looked like he had often been paid to look the other way and there were more than a couple of nasty looking dents in the car that could easily have been made by passing bullets, so I assumed I wouldn’t need to specify what the extra money was for. He gave me an understanding nod in receipt and drove off as soon as we left the car.
My body already ached from helping Clark move away from the warehouse and it was not delighted at the prospect of helping him on the way up to my apartment, yet it made it there intact. It received a brief respite as I opened the door and turned on the lights, then locked the door again with us on the right side. After dropping my keys I took a firm hold of his body and propelled him into my bedroom, the sudden movement surprising him so much that he didn’t speak until we were in the room.
“Er, Lois--”
“You need to rest and my couches are not comfortable,” I told him as I pulled the blanket from his shoulders. I didn’t know what he thought I was planning by taking him in there but I wasn’t about to go giving him ideas. “You get in there and try to get some sleep, and I’ll call Henderson and let him know about the kidnapping and kryptonite.”
I pulled back the covers and saw him eye up the comfortable-looking bed, his tired body the very picture of indecision. I made the final decision to push him down onto it and he made no effort to stand again. “Is there anyone else I need to contact for you to take you home?” Please don’t say Mayson, I thought. For some reason I wasn’t aware of, I didn’t want to have to deal with her.
“No. Henderson will sort it all out,” he replied flatly, with strains of fatigue evident in his voice.
I smiled at him, mainly out of relief that the Drake woman hadn’t been mentioned. Henderson I could deal with. His face remained impassive.
“OK,” I said. “You recuperate in here and I won’t disturb you until it’s time for you to leave.”
*.*.*.
The TV volume was on low as I watched the end credits of a late night movie roll through tired and therefore slightly bleary eyes. Unable to get comfortable enough to sleep on my couch, the movie had seemed the best option to keep me company for those sleepless hours. Usually when I couldn’t sleep I’d immerse myself in a book, but my current read was sitting on my bedside table and I didn’t want to risk retrieving it in case I woke Clark up while doing so.
Henderson had asked me to look after Clark until the morning, partly because he hoped Clark would be recovered enough to fly home on his own by then, and partly because he wasn’t able to come over himself and he didn’t want to inform anyone else that Superman was currently vulnerable. It was understandable, even if my sore back didn’t agree.
It was strange to think that after all that had happened, he was now sleeping in my bed, powerless. I couldn’t believe that he really trusted me that much and yet, there he was. I felt almost humbled by it.
I heard some shuffling movements coming from my bedroom and turned my head to see Clark standing in the doorway. Even though he was covered in the blanket, I could tell that at some point he had taken off his Superman suit as the areas that the blanket failed to cover now showed his flesh rather than blue spandex or red leather. I could imagine that after a while it would become uncomfortable, especially after losing his powers.
“How long have I been asleep?” he asked me when he realised that he had been spotted.
“I left you a couple of hours ago,” I told him, unable to give him an accurate answer as I hadn’t stayed in the room to keep him company. “Henderson won’t be coming until the morning, I’m afraid. I hope you don’t mind crashing here.” I got no reply except a slight shrug of his shoulders, a gesture of resignation rather than affirmation. “How are you?”
“I’m not sick any more but I’m not super,” he told me after a slight pause he had most likely used to decide what he should and shouldn’t tell me. Obviously I was the last person he wanted to confide in, I should have thought of that before I’d asked. I was probably also the last person whose apartment he’d choose to hide out in but he couldn’t have had anyone else he could trust or he would have been long gone by now.
“Have you had any sleep?” His question surprised me, although on reflection it was completely within his character to care about every individual, even when he had good reason not to.
“No, you can’t sleep on these things.”
He moved more fully into the room but he made no effort to make eye contact with me. “You take the bed. I don’t need much sleep. What I need now is the sun.”
“You’re the one who was dying in the warehouse, you take the bed.”
“It’s your bed.”
“I’m not arguing with you, Kent.”
Suddenly his eyes locked with mine and I was startled by the intensity of them. “What did you call me?”
“Kent. That’s your name,” I told him, momentarily wondering if the kryptonite had caused some sort of amnesia. That might be why he was talking to me.
“I know, but,” we lost eye contact again and I immediately missed it, “hardly anyone calls me my name.”
My fault. It was all my fault. No-one saw him as Clark Kent anymore and it was all because of me. “Would it help if I apologised?” I asked, desperate for a chance to redeem myself.
There was a moment’s pause as he considered my question. “You know, I thought it would, but I was wrong. I think it’s too late.” He sounded almost sad at that thought.
“I thought it might be.”
“At least Perry warned me. He called me after he got your article, explained that there was no way he could justify not printing it but told me to lay low and get my parents to safety. Then he apologised. You didn’t even have the courtesy to do that. You didn’t even confront me and yell at me for lying to you and give me any chance to plead with you not to print it.” His voice was bitter and loud, although he wasn’t quite shouting, he just sounded angry and frustrated.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, realising now how Perry could sleep at night. He had done the best he could for Clark without compromising his position by killing my story. He was right; I had at least owed him the chance to convince me not to hand in the story. I think subconsciously I knew that if I had spoken to him about it, he would have been able to talk me out of submitting the story. Which is why I should have; and why I didn’t.
“Yeah, me too,” he said, his voice quieter than mine but it sounded extremely dangerous. I’d never heard him speak in that tone before. I wondered what he was thinking, then decided that I really didn’t want to know.
I let out a long sigh. “Clark, please. Just go to bed. You don’t need to put yourself out for me. I’m the one in the wrong.”
“Only if you come with me.” I stared at him in shock. Had he really just said...? “It’s the only way either of us will get any sleep. I know you won’t back down either.”
That was true, I wasn’t going to back down. “So you’re telling me that if I stay sat on this couch, you’re going to stand there the whole night waiting for me to go to bed.”
“Pretty much. I might sit at some point, though.”
I smiled at his humorous response but my mind went blank as I processed this information. For some reason my body began to act on auto-pilot. It turned off the TV before standing up and walking into the bedroom. I was aware of Clark following me but not that closely. Scared that he was planning on leaving me alone and making me look like a bad host by forcing my ill guest to sleep on the couch, I moved backwards and grabbed his arm, propelling him forward to the bed as I had done earlier and taking him by surprise once more. He grunted as he landed on the crumpled duvet and the blanket slipped from his shoulders, revealing his well-toned body. I tore my gaze away and looked at my feet as I composed myself. The last thing he needed right now was me ogling his bare chest. I lifted up my pillow and pulled out my night dress.
“I might as well get out of these clothes,” I said inanely, needing to speak but unsure what to say in this situation. “I won’t be long.”
It didn’t take me long to prepare for bed. As I left the bathroom I paused, debating whether to return to the bedroom or living room. I had no doubt that if I didn’t arrive in the bedroom within whatever time frame Clark had allotted in his mind for my preparation for bed, then he’d come searching for me. He’d probably be angry. He wasn’t angry at the moment but I couldn’t forget how he had looked as he rescued me from the car and I didn’t want to feel as bad as I had done then. I didn’t want to see that look on his face again, however strange and uncomfortable this current situation might be; so I walked back to my bedroom. Sharing a bed was no big deal. Sharing a bed with Superman was even less of a big deal; it would be safer than sharing a bed with the Pope. Right?
He looked like he was asleep as I turned the lights off and entered the room. Silently I crept into the opposite side of the bed and snuggled down into it, keeping my body as far away from his as I could. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep. That movie hadn’t exactly been an adrenaline-fuelled action movie. If it hadn’t been for the couch, I would have fallen asleep five minutes into it.
*.*.*.
I woke up sometime later to find that I had moved in my sleep. Actually, we both had. We must have. Because when I woke up I was snuggled up against Clark’s welcoming chest. My breath stuck in my throat and I tried to keep my breathing shallow as soon as I realised it. I didn’t want to disturb him. I didn’t want to see the expression on his face when he realised the compromising position he was in with *me*. It was such an ironically safe and comforting position, however, that I had no wish to move out of it.
“You awake?” His question surprised me as I felt it breeze through my hair.
“Yes.”
“This isn’t a dream then?”
I allowed myself a small, sarcastic chuckle. “Yeah, because you dream about us lying together like this a lot.”
He sighed but made no answer. I felt him move his head so that it rested against the top of mine. I was amazed at how natural this all felt. “Can we pretend this is a dream?” he asked me softly after a pause.
“Please,” I begged, pulling myself away from his chest so I could look at him. There had always been something about Superman that interested me on a physical level; I could recall having some very vivid dreams involving the two of us after his appearance on the Messenger. Since realising that he was Clark, I couldn’t honestly say that those feelings had changed, but the reality of our situation had made those dreams less appealing. Now, however, all of my old thoughts and fantasies came back with a vengeance. The idea of living out my dream of sleeping with him, even though I knew it could only last one night, was beyond words. A dream come true.
The room was still dark, I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a couple of hours, but I could him clearly enough by the light that leaked in through my curtains. His hand lay lightly on the small of my waist, his fingers softly following the curves of my middle as he very lightly clasped me. His touch was gentle, but I could still sense it as if it was burning through the material and into my veins.
He searched my face for some reaction, I don’t know what he was expecting to see but I assumed he found it as his face leant closer and his mouth found mine. I closed my eyes as his tongue teased my lips open and I allowed myself to shut out the reality of our situation and immerse myself in our dream. Why on earth he’d dream about kissing me, I had no idea but he was very good at it and I knew that I’d be dreaming about this for a long time, whether it was a dream or reality. I brought my hands up to run them through his hair and hold his mouth more firmly against mine as I slid my tongue along his into his mouth so that I could taste him more fully. At first he seemed to welcome this invasion, but then he seemed to come to his senses and he broke off the kiss. He raised himself up onto his arms and gazed down wondrously at me. Then he let out a deep breath.
“Lois.”
“Clark,” I responded, and watched him as he closed his eyes at the sound of my husky voice saying his name.
“I...” he seemed to find it hard to vocalise whatever it was that was bothering him.
“What is it?” I prodded gently.
“This isn’t right.”
No, it wasn’t. Nothing was right any more, especially between us. Except this, to me, this felt perfect. “It’s just a dream.”
“It’s not, though. There are... consequences to consider.”
“I’m on the pill.”
A small smile graced his passion-flushed face. “I didn’t mean that. I meant... us. I can’t make love to you.” He was serious again, and starting to look angry.
“I can’t force you to,” I sighed. I just about managed to stop myself from smiling at what I said. ‘Forcing’ *him*, of all people, really was beyond my limits.
He shook his head sadly. “No. You don’t understand. If we continued, it would just be sex.”
“I know,” I whispered, “there’ll never be anything between us, I’ve hurt you too deeply. I know I was never exactly nice to you before, and then I--” I broke myself off, deciding not to go down that path, the last thing I wanted to do right now was remind him of what I had done to him, “but a part of me still wants to be your friend. It’s crazy, isn’t it? There’s no way you can ever forgive me for ruining your life. I wish I could make you forget it all.”
“Maybe you can,” his voice came out unusually deep, even when compared to the voice he used as Superman. He lowered his mouth back down to mine and I closed my eyes as we fell into our dream.
*.*.*.
I moved so that I was facing him and I pushed a lock of sweat-drenched hair away from his chocolate coloured eyes, which seemed to hold a look of wonder in them. I wanted to say something, but what could I say? I looked away from him, unsure of what to do. This was not a man with whom I could whisper sweet nothings after making love, yet I equally couldn’t bring myself to say anything cold and detached. As much as I knew that it hadn’t been real, that it had been a physical experience rather than a meeting of souls, I didn’t want it to be something I looked back on with regrets. Unlike every other time I’d slept with a man, this time I knew from the start it was nothing more than sex and for some reason that made me even more determined not to ruin it by hearing him tell me how little it meant to him. It had been sex, it had been good. We’d both enjoyed it and found a much needed release from it. It was enough.
I closed my eyes for the second time that night, as I grew lethargic from my long night. I heard Clark grunt as he shifted into a more comfortable position in my bed; I think he had moved so that he had his back to me. His tired and sated voice drifted over to me. “‘Night, Lois.”
“Goodnight.”
To Be Continued...*.*.*.
Additional Note:
This story was originally supposed to be an nfic. (I told you it was a very small note!)
