Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 4:Highway (10/?)

"Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked.

Lois sensed a little apprehension in his question. Perhaps he, too, wasn't looking forward to their separate rooms. "That would be nice," she replied.

His grin was quick. "Are you cold?" Without waiting for a reply, he slipped off his jacket and put it across her shoulders.

"Thanks."

They walked a few steps in silence.

Lois sorted through her mind for another topic. Perhaps she could mention again how wonderful the food had been.

Clark stopped suddenly and turned to her. His hand tightened around hers. His other hand dived into the pocket of his trousers.

"Lois," he said, pulling his hand from his pocket and revealing a ring box. "I love you. Would you marry me?"


Part 10

"Yes."

Clark tensed - from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

"Yes," Lois repeated, caressing him with that amazing smile. "I would love to marry you."

He hauled himself free from the web of shock and sucked in a ragged breath. "You would?"

"Yes," she said - for a third time.

"I ..."

"Did you really think I would say 'no'?" she asked, the pads of her fingers resting lightly on his cheek.

"No." Clark cleared his throat. "No. But I thought you might say it was too quick."

"Do *you* feel ready for this?"

"I've been ready since the moment I first saw you."

Lois's eyes dropped to his hand. "Is that for me?"

He remembered the ring. With shaky fingers, he eased it from the box and took Lois's left hand. He paused at her first knuckle, unable to believe that this was really happening. He glanced into her face, saw her complete happiness, and slid the ring down the length of her finger.

She threw her arms around his waist and kissed him. After a few seconds, the initial excitement and novelty of kissing as an engaged couple settled into some serious necking. His tongue met hers. Her tongue seared his lips.

Too quickly, it was too much.

Clark disconnected from her mouth and clasped her firmly against his chest. "I love you," he muttered. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, too." She withdrew far enough to examine the ring. "It's beautiful, Clark," she said. "Thank you."

"The store assistant suggested it," he admitted.

"When did you buy it?" she asked, her brow furrowing a little in puzzlement. "At the beach? When you went to look for a restaurant?"

"No. When I stopped to get lunch. I saw the jewellery store and hoped I would be able to convince you to stay in the Jeep while I slipped away for a few minutes."

"Thank you," she said. "I love it."

Clark smiled with relief. Lois was wearing his ring. A vitally important piece of his life had been set aright.

"Was that where you saw the photograph of Superman?" she asked.

"Yes."

Lois laughed, still examining the ring. "That's kind of funny," she said. "The store where Superman buys an engagement ring has a photo of him."

"I'm not Superman," he said, still feeling dazed. "I'm Clark."

Teasing glistened in her eyes. "But you look *so* good in spandex."

He laughed. "The photograph didn't show anything below my waist," he said. "For which I was grateful. From the shreds of material I found when I undressed, I can imagine what I looked like."

"So can I," Lois drawled with a tantalising hitch of her eyebrow that came close to short-circuiting his nerve endings.

Needing a distraction, Clark rearranged his jacket across her shoulders. "What would you like to do now?" he asked.

"Go flying," she said.

He grinned. That sounded perfect. He deposited the empty ring box in his pocket and lifted her into his arms.

"All clear?" she asked.

He scrutinised the area and stepped away from the street light and against a wall that provided them with a little cover.

He launched them upwards. Once the friendly darkness had enveloped them, he hovered, adjusting his jacket around Lois. "Where to?"

"West," she said decisively.

"To the beach again?" he asked, thinking that a moonlit walk along the sand sounded idyllic.

"No. To Kansas."

"Home?"

"Yes. Home."

"Do you know the way?"

"No," Lois said. "But I figure you've flown home hundreds of times. Head to Wichita, and we'll try to work it out from there."

Clark wasn't sure they would be able to find one small farmhouse in an entire state, but he hadn't been sure they could fly. Or that he could shave using a mirror.

If nothing else, he'd learned that Lois's assessment of what was possible was much more reliable than his was. He turned them towards the west, flying slowly, not wanting the magic of this to end.

The stars were splayed above them, the earth a shadowy presence below. It felt as if they had entered an expanse that was just for them - him and Lois.

Lois, who had promised to marry him. The realisation rippled through him like just-opened champagne.

"Are you cold?" Clark asked.

"A little," she said. She slid his glasses down his nose and lifted the jacket from her body. "If you could shoot a little heat in there ..."

He did. "How's that?"

"Just right." She giggled. "I'm glad you didn't forget the temperature controls on that heat thingy of yours."

"Me, too," he said.

"My feet are freezing," Lois said.

Clark turned his head and sent a couple of gentle rays into her feet.

"Uhhmmmm," Lois said, nestling closer. "Thank you."

"Anything for my lady," he said. He waited for her to respond. When she didn't, he said, "Is that OK?"

"Can I refer to you as 'my man'?"

"Any time you want to."

She smiled. "Then it's perfectly OK."

"Does this feel to you as if we are the only people in the world?" Clark asked.

"Yes."

"It's amazing how the difference between abject loneliness and total fulfilment is just one person."

"But not just *any* one person."

"No. You. It has to be you." He kissed her hair. "I can't believe you said 'yes'."

"I didn't even have to think about it."

"Do you need time to think about it?" he asked, trying not to sound worried.

"No. I can't imagine anything better than being married to you."

He thought back to the moment of his proposal. "Ahhh ... were you disappointed that I just blurted it out?"

"No." She chuckled. "I thought it was the perfect proposal."

"It was a little unconventional," he said, wishing now that he'd had the equanimity to lead up to his question with some sort of an attempt to express what Lois meant to him.

She laughed, and her body shook in his arms. "Clark," she said. "We're *flying*. Flying. Doesn't that tell you that 'conventional' is not a particularly apt description for us?"

That was true.

Clark stopped over the lights of a city. "That's Wichita," he said.

"How do you know?" Lois asked. "It's not like there are signposts in the sky."

"I just know," he said. "I think I must have spent a lot of time learning how to find my way around up here. Maybe it's like language. I didn't forget how to speak."

"If that is Wichita, how do we get home?"

"This way," Clark said, moving again.

"You can *feel* your way home? Or do you remember?"

"I'm not sure how, but I feel a strong connection to ..." He stopped and looked down. "... to that little farmhouse right there."

"I can barely see it," she said. "But I trust your instincts. Let's fly down."

He dropped them slowly into the area behind the farmhouse.

"This is it," Lois said excitedly as he set her on her feet. "This is your home."

Nothing about it was familiar. Not the path. Not the overrun vegetable garden. Not the door that could use a new coat of paint.

But it was home.

He knew it just as surely as he'd known Lois was the person who completed his life.

She pulled keys from her bag and unlocked the door. Clark followed her into the house. She turned on the light, and they looked around the neat kitchen.

"Recognise it?" Lois asked.

"No." Clark stepped forward and ran his hand over the time-smoothed surface of the wooden table. "No. I can't remember anything."

She slipped her arms around his neck. "Do you want to go upstairs?" she asked. "There might be something about your bedroom that you remember."

"OK."

Lois took his hand and led him through a living room and up the stairs. At the top, they faced three closed doors. Lois tightened her grip on his hand and waited.

Clark shook his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

He reached for the doorknob to his left, but snatched back his hand. "What happened in there?"

"That's the bedroom you had as a child."

He shook his head. "No," he said. "Something happened in there."

"That's where I got the scratches," Lois said quietly.

"In there?" Clark gasped. "In my bedroom?"

"I was using your bedroom at the time."

"He followed us to this house?"

"Yes."

"Did we know? Did we suspect he was following us?"

"No," she said, soothing him with her touch to his arm. "But nothing too bad happened, remember? You came."

Clark turned his attention to the door on the right. "Is that where I was sleeping?"

"You weren't here when he broke into the house."

Unlike his averse reaction to first door, Clark felt drawn to the second. He slowly twisted the knob and pushed open the door. He stepped in, and immediately a sense of peace settled on him like a cloak.

Lois followed him.

He looked at the neatly made double bed.

Clark put his arm across Lois's shoulder, wanting her closeness. She came willingly into his side, and her arms slid around his waist.

He couldn't take his eyes from the bed. He should - staring at so it fixedly was hardly acceptable in the circumstances.

He felt *something*.

He couldn't grasp it, but there was *something* about that bed.

But it couldn't be the obvious.

It couldn't be.

"Are you feeling all right?" Lois asked. "Do you remember something?"

Clark tried to smile to alleviate his bewilderment. "I can be honest, can't I?"

"Yes," she said. "About everything."

"I get the strongest feeling that something very good happened in here. And because it feels so good, I figure it has to involve you." He swallowed roughly. "At least, I'm *really* hoping it involved you," he said as a hot rash of mortification spread across his face.

"It did," Lois said, flooding him with relief. She unwound from his grasp and shut the door.

Clark heard the catch shoot home, and they were alone. In a bedroom. With a bed.

But this wasn't the first time. He *knew* it wasn't the first time.

"Did we sleep there?" Clark guessed. "Did we share that bed?"

"Yes. More than once."

"But we didn't ..."

"No."

Clark ballooned his cheeks and let out a slow breath. "How did that work?" he asked incredulously.

"Separate sleeping bags."

That pushed it into the realms of possibility. Just.

"What else happened here?" Clark asked as curiosity threatened to consume him.

Lois's hands skimmed up his neck and burrowed through the hair at the back of his head. Her mouth came to his, and she kissed him.

It was a kiss. Like all the others. Not like all the others. This one felt like a firestorm.

He reached the edge in record time. A few seconds of her lips, the brush of her tongue ... and his control was slipping like oil in a clenched fist.

Clark backed away, breathing heavily and sinking his hands into the sanctuary of his pockets. "I'm sorry, Lois," he rasped. "I shouldn't have let that happen."

"Let what happen?" she asked.

"I shouldn't have let us do that. Not here. Not in a bedroom."

"Clark," Lois said. "I brought you here. I brought you up the stairs. I closed the door. I kissed you."

"You *planned* this?" he said, barely able to get any substance into his voice.

She smiled. "I hoped. I hoped that this room would be better than separate motel rooms."

The avalanche of possibilities broke free and careered through his body. He scrambled for a foothold, a handhold, *any* hold. "Lois." He dragged in a humungous breath. "Lois, I know this is ridiculously antiquated, but I was raised to believe in the sanctity of marriage."

"You've already asked me to marry you."

"And as far as I'm concerned, that is a total commitment," Clark said. "I guess that's old fashioned, too - the idea of a betrothal being a binding agreement."

She studied him, a slight smile playing around her mouth and warmth shining in her eyes. "Be honest with me," she said. "Do you *want* this?"

"*Want*?" he breathed. "Stopping was the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. And I can say that with certainty despite having forgotten most of my life."

Lois stepped away from him, and his hand flinched with the instinct to grab her and keep her close. She went to her bag, pulled out a piece of paper, and held it up for him to see.

It was a marriage certificate.

Certifying the marriage of Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

He took the paper from her and stared at it. According to this document, they had been married for over a week.

"We're married?" he breathed. "We're married?"

"Officially."

"Officially?" Clark gasped. "What does *that* mean?"

"It means that before you went on the mission, Daniel thought that it would be easier for me if we were officially married."

"How could I have forgotten *that*?" Clark said, aghast.

"You didn't know about it. You were busy trying to work out the best way to avert the asteroid."

"This was to look after you if I didn't return?" Clark guessed. He could see no other possible reason for a sham marriage.

"Yes," Lois said. "We only had a very short time. Just hours. This was his way of ensuring I could have some say in what happened to you ... to your body ... to the farm ... if ... if you didn't come back to me."

"So it's not real."

"It can be real if you want it to be. Or we can have it annulled. It's our choice."

The avalanche gathered momentum. Clark grabbed at a twig of reason. "Lois, Lois ... this *isn't* how people get married."

"Flying isn't how people celebrate their engagement."

"I'm sorry," Clark said.

"It's OK," Lois said, although disappointment had crept into her lovely brown eyes. "We can wait. We can do it properly ... the wedding ... the -"

"I didn't mean that," Clark cut across her. "I meant that I'm so sorry I sounded as if I didn't want this."

Her look radiated a hundred questions. What were they going to do?

"I don't know," Clark said in reply. "I want this. Obviously, I want this. I asked you to marry me." He took her hand and ran his thumb lightly over the ring.

"But this is too fast?" she asked.

"No," he said, lifting his gaze from the ring to her face. "Time doesn't seem to matter anymore. It's too flimsy, too ungraspable. I feel as if I've known you for a long time - and I've loved you for every second of it."

"What do you want to do?"

"Don't you want a wedding? Haven't you dreamed of it? Planned it?"

"Yes," Lois admitted. "But nothing is left of my dream - except for the groom, who surpasses every dream I ever had."

"What do you mean 'nothing is left'?"

"My friend can't be at my wedding. I shared my dreams with her. It wouldn't be the same without her."

"But you must have other friends? Family? People you want to share your wedding?"

Lois shook her head. "There's my dad - but ... he ... he isn't well." Her smile came sadly. "And when you work as an agent, there isn't much opportunity to make a lot of friendships."

"What about your uncle? The one who has the restaurant?"

"He would love to cater for my wedding," Lois said. "But he's not going to be upset if he doesn't. If I'm happy, he'll be happy."

"Your mother?"

Lois sighed. "My mother is one good reason for avoiding a wedding. She will try to turn it into a huge, meaningless society showpiece - the sort of event where everything that matters gets hopelessly lost. I wouldn't want to put either of us through that."

Clark had run out of reasons why they needed to have a wedding. "Lois," he said. "There is nothing I want more than to be married to you."

"How do you want it to happen?"

He read the certificate again. "If we accept this, we have ten days to make up for."

Lois nodded gravely, although her eyes were sparkling with possibility. Her expression decided him. Clark tightened the knot in his tie. "Do you want to get married in my jacket?"

She slid it from her shoulders and returned it to him. He put it on, fastened the buttons, lowered his glasses, and warmed her.

Lois smiled her thanks.

Clark took her elbows and guided her to sit down on the bed. Then he dropped to his knee and took her hands in his. "Lois," he said. "I love you with everything I am. Would you marry me now?"

She smiled. "Now?"

He nodded. "Now. Here."

"Yes," she said.

He kissed her hand, slipped the ring from her finger, and then stood, helping her to stand. He scanned the room. "Let's do it by the window," he said.

They walked to the window. They stood there, facing each other, hands joined.

"Lois," Clark said as his happiness erupted. "I love you." He forced his mind to search his heart for words to convey its fullness. "My love isn't measured by days or weeks, but by every beat of my heart," he said. "I know that my life couldn't be complete without you, but that's not the main reason I want to marry you. I want *you* to be happy. And I trust you when you say that I'm the one who makes you happy."

Lois smiled as she blinked away the moisture that had gathered in her eyes.

"I love you, Clark," she said. "I love your honesty. I love your courage. I love that you always think of others first. I love that you are willing to forego what you want if it means doing the right thing. I will love you faithfully for my whole life. I will never leave you."

"Thank you," Clark said gravely. "Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for loving me despite the things that set me apart. Thank you for not allowing me to use my differences as barriers. Thank you for capturing my heart - simply by walking into a room."

"Thank you for trusting me," Lois said. "Thank you for allowing me to see your big loving heart."

"I promise you that my love will be strong and steadfast," Clark said. "I promise you that I will love you for as long as I live. I promise you my faithfulness. I promise that I will try to be there for you - to be everything you need me to be. I promise that your happiness will always be of the utmost importance to me. I will protect you, and love you, and support you. Forever."

"I promise that I will love you every day of my life," Lois said. "I promise you my faithfulness. I will support you in however you decide to use your special abilities. And I will never let you forget that it's your heart that defines who you are, not the things you can do."

Clark put the ring at the end of her finger. "This ring signifies our agreement," he said. "It signifies that we have agreed to love each other and that we have promised to live together as husband and wife forever."

Lois nodded. "I won't leave you. I promise."

"And I will never leave you," Clark said as he pushed the ring along her finger.

She looked up at him with a beaming smile, her tear-doused eyes shining with joy. "That was beautiful," she said.

"May I kiss my bride?"

"Yes."

Clark wrapped her in his arms and kissed her - slowly, wanting to savour every second, wanting to remember every touch, every taste of the first few moments of their marriage.

When the kiss ended, he smiled at her. "My wife," he whispered in awe.

"My husband."

"What would you like to do?" he asked. "We can go anywhere in the world and to any time of the day - sunset, sunrise, afternoon. Would you like to go back to the beach?"

"Not the beach," she said emphatically.

"Oh?" Clark said. "I thought you enjoyed it today."

"I did," she said. "But it was kind of torturous, too."

Yep, it had been torturous.

"But that sort of torture isn't for newlyweds," Lois said.

He planted his eyes on her face, refusing to allow them to dart to the bed. "W...Would you like to stay here?"

"Yes," she said. "Right here. With the door shut."

Lois reached for his tie and loosened the knot. He felt his throat jump against the collar. She slipped one end of his tie through the knot, and it hung loose. She extended his collar and slid the tie from his neck, tossing it onto a chair. She undid over half of his buttons and pushed open his shirt. Then she leant forward and kissed his cheek.

"Your turn," she said as she looked up into his eyes.

"My turn?"

"Anything you want. Anything you've been thinking about doing, but didn't feel you could."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

He extended his forefinger and lightly traced the length of the middle scratch on her chest. Then he rounded her waist with his hands and gently kissed the top of the scratch.

He dropped a little lower and kissed again. Then he straightened and faced her.

"You wanted to do that?" Lois asked.

"Ever since I first saw them," he said. "I know kisses don't really make things better ..."

"Don't ever underestimate the power of your kisses," she said.

Clark smiled at her comment, but quickly moved on. "Is it your turn now?" he said, eager to know what she would choose to do.

Lois put her hands on his shoulders and pushed the jacket from his body. She hung it on the back of the chair with slow deliberate movements that threatened to melt his muscles with anticipation. She came back to him, and Clark was sure he had forgotten how to breathe. She took his shirt in both hands and tugged it from his trousers. Then she undid the remainder of his buttons. "Your turn," she said as her eyes coasted down the strip of bare skin where the flaps of his shirt had fallen apart.

Clark lifted her and sat her on the bed. He dropped to the floor and removed her shoes. He massaged her ankle, working slowly up her leg, kissing a trail that followed the path of his hands. He reached her knee and smiled up to her.

Her eyes were closed, her expression languorous. "Your turn," he said.

Her eyes flickered open. She dropped from the bed and onto her knees on the floor next to him. She undid the buttons at his cuffs and slipped his shirt from his body. She leant back and stared.

And stared some more.

Then she grasped his shoulders and nuzzled into his neck, dropping kisses like petals from a flower.

Although their effect on him was more akin to a flare than a flower.

Her hands gripped his back, his shoulders, his chest, all while her mouth continued to delicately devour him.

Every single touch set him aflame.

She dropped away, leaving him hopelessly dangling between survival and seduction.

"Your turn," Lois said unsteadily.

Clark lifted her onto the bed and turned his attention to her other ankle. He repeated what he had already done - lovingly massaging her other calf and following with a trail of lingering kisses.

He reached her knee.

He paused.

A sound came from Lois. A sound that oozed encouragement. He didn't even need to glance into her face to check that his assumption had been correct.

His fingers edged under the hem of her dress. Very, very slowly, he explored the lower parts of her thigh, visualising how she had looked at the beach when dressed in the shorts.

"You have great legs," he murmured, dropping a kiss onto her kneecap.

At mid-thigh, he stopped. "Your turn," he said, barely able to compel his voice to obedience.

Lois stood from the bed and reached behind her body. Clark heard the whir of the zipper.

The shoulders of her dress teetered on the upper curves of her arms, lowering the front even more.

Lois looked at him and said, "It's your turn."

Clark slowly stood to his feet. His eyes, which had been riveted to her face, dipped lower. He stared at where the deep burgundy of the dress contrasted with the slightly flushed pink of her skin.

Lois wriggled her shoulders - just a tiny movement - and the dress slithered to the floor.