This is not finished, but I am not exactly sure what I am doing, and I do not know if it is worth continuing.
Round The Twist
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine! Though DC comics and the WB can have my pocket lint and my keychain collections for them.
*****
Lois strolled down the dark street, hoping that she'd find Clark at home. With both Trevino and Mr. Makeup in jail, she knew she was safe from assassins, but part of her wanted the comfort of her best friend. She had left her movies over at his place, anyway, and it was time she got them back. It had been a horrible few days, and she admitted, at least to herself, that she felt safer with Clark than with anyone but Superman. Lois hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and began to walk faster. Clark's neighborhood wasn't the best, and she didn't want to get mugged.
Granted, getting mugged would lead to Superman showing up, and she always loved seeing him--she loved him, period. But tonight, she wanted to see *Clark*. Sometimes, she didn't understand exactly how she felt about her partner. He was her best friend, her brother; he was closer to her than her family, and even her lo--no, not that. Her past had proven that those kind of relationships were nothing but trouble. If she'd only stayed as friends with Claude, then he never could have hurt her like he did. If only, if only.
Friendship really was the best way to go. She wasn't sure if her heart could ever withstand the pain and humiliation of being broken again. Lois looked up, surprised that she had arrived Clark's place without noticing. She walked silently up the steps and peeked in the window, not wanting to disturb him if her were sleeping. Seeing nothing, she opened the door and slipped inside. "Clark?" she called quietly.
The ballgame was on the television, an open pizza box sat on the table with a half-eaten slice of pizza on a plate next to it, and a blanket was crumpled near one end of the sofa. Clark was nowhere in sight. Lois curled up in the corner of the couch and pulled the quilt over herself. So tired. Last night had been the first bit of sleep she'd caught since she'd witnessed Winninger kick the bucket.
She pulled the blanket closer up underneath her chin and yawned. There was always time to sort her feelings another day. It wasn't like Clark was going anywhere. Clark the reliable. Clark the--no! Okay, so her partner wasn't bad looking. Especially in that towel. Lois buried her face in the sofa cushions, resolving not to think about her best friend wearing nothing but… It wasn't like she was made of stone, but whenever her thoughts drifted Clark-ways, she firmly planted them where they belonged--on Superman. Superman was perfect. He would never intentionally hurt her. He saved her life constantly. He was gorgeous. In short, he was… safe.
Lois' eyes drifted shut. There was always tomor….
*****
Clark landed on the patio and walked inside. He frowned because someone was inside his apartment. Funny, the heartbeat sounded familiar, almost like… Lois. A soft smile spread over his face as he caught sight of her, fast asleep on his couch. He looked to make sure she was sleeping, and noticed that her eyes were barely open. “Lois?” he called softly. When she didn't answer, he decided she must be asleep, then spun back into the shorts and t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier that night.
He tiptoed over to the couch and allowed himself to stroke her cheek before he pulled the colorful patchwork quilt a bit higher. While she was asleep at his place, at least he knew where she was and that she was safe. Even if they merely remained friends, he wasn't sure that he could live without her in his life. For all that she was, he loved Lois Lane. Clark sighed, turned off the television and the lights, and walked back into his bedroom, not wanting to chance waking her up.
*****
Lois watched through half-closed eyes as Superman walked in the room. She almost gasped as he spun, then changed into Clark. She began to breathe more deeply, trying to make sure that he wouldn't realize that she was awake. Lois shut her eyes tightly as he caressed her cheek and tucked her in. She cracked open her eyes when he turned around, then watched as he strode into his bedroom and turned off the light. Clark *was* Superman. Or was Superman *Clark*?
She shifted on the couch, uncertain why the question was so important to her. Was he Clark because he couldn't be Superman all the time, or was he Superman so that he could help and still be Clark? She *had* met his parents, and there were family pictures scattered around his apartment. Lois smiled, remembering the baby pictures that Martha Kent had shown her when they were in Smallville. If he had grown up in Kansas, he couldn't be Superman, could he? Maybe she'd been dreaming, after all. Lois grimaced as all of the possibilities rushed through her head, and was surprised when she glanced at the clock only to find that an hour had passed. She pushed back the blanket, swung her legs over the side of the couch and soundlessly made her way to Clark's bedroom.
She walked to the side of the bed and examined his face. He lay peacefully asleep on his back, covers around his muscular chest, and his glasses on the nightstand. Slightly almond-shaped eyes. High, sculpted cheekbones. Full, sensual lips that were curved in a whimsical smile. He must be having a good dream, she thought distractedly. Clark rolled over, and the bedclothes slipped down around his waist. Lois looked at the defined muscles of his arms, and his chest. There was no doubt about it. Her best friend and Superman were the same person.
She sneaked back into the living room and sat down on the couch heavily. She didn't know what she should do. Publishing the truth was impossible--it would destroy both his lives. Lois frowned. Why hadn't he told her? At first she could have understood because of the way she had treated him, but now they were best friends! 'Maybe,' she thought slowly, 'it's because he's afraid--afraid that I might get mad and leave him forever.' After all, she would have had to have been blind not to notice the undeniable fact that he had a crush on her. It had been obvious from the beginning... and she couldn't deny her attraction to him, at least, not after the perfume fiasco.
She still wasn't sure how she felt about him, or where they'd go from where they were now that she knew the secret, but she did know one thing… . Clark Jerome Kent *would* answer for what he had done. And she knew exactly how to go about it.
******
To be continued?
