I wrote this in January 2010, but I wasn't happy with the ending. I kept bringing it out, reading it, discovering it hadn't magically fixed itself, and then banishing it back to the dark corners of my hard drive. Finally, I got a better idea!

Angst meter - mild. It's just a bit of fun.

Setting - second season.

Rating - PG

With my sincere thanks to -

- my tireless, ever-enthusiastic BR, Iolanthe,

- Vicki, who graciously agreed to make her debut as a BR on this fic (and did a great job!),

- and Lynn who read this and gave her suggestions many months ago when it had the original ending.

Disclaimer - Most of the characters are not mine. I make reference to a couple of incidents from the series Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman.


ASKING LOIS OUT

Part 1

7:46am

Clark Kent’s fingers stalled on his keyboard. She was in the elevator. His hearing had locked onto the heartbeat rhythm that was uniquely hers. He listened as the elevator rose, bringing her to him.

It was no fluke that he had arrived early this morning. He had hoped to give himself time to fine-tune the plans that had taken up perpetual residence at the forefront of his mind.

He intended to ask Lois Lane out.

On a date.

An official date.

Lois and Clark – together. As a couple ... or at least, a potential couple.

He wanted her to know that he saw her as far, far more than a colleague. Far more than a friend.

More even than a best friend.

He loved her.

But how to convey that to her?

He’d decided to ask her for a date. To ask now. Today. This morning. First thing. Before the bustle of stories and work and bad guys and leads and sources could crowd into their lives.

The elevator stopped with a clunk, and its doors slid open. Heavy male footsteps emerged, followed by the ones he knew belonged to Lois Lane.

Keeping his eyes trained on his stagnant computer screen, Clark tracked her progress from the elevator. Her steps were clipped. From the sound of her soles on the floor, she was wearing her brown shoes. They had only a half-inch heel, so there must be another reason for the brusqueness of her gait.

She was annoyed, Clark realised. Agitated. Unreceptive.

He looked up, his smile hovering in case his first sight of her gave him any hope that it might be effective in combating her mood. The moment he saw her face, his hopes were dashed.

No, this bout of Lois Lane exasperation was going to require far more than a smile.

Her words were galloping free before she even reached his desk. "Do you know what just happened?" she asked. "Coming into the building, I get accosted by that young twerp who started work in the coffee booth last week. You know him? You must know him; he looks like he's still in high school but that doesn’t put any sort of dent in his way-over-the-top confidence. Ohhh nooooo. Suddenly, he’s there – right in my face. And leading with that sycophantic smirk that could oil a rusty gate.

"He *dares* to lay a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder and looks deep into my eyes and croons in a voice so thick you want to gag at the thought of what he could possibly have stuck in his throat, ‘I’m free tonight, sweetheart. I'll pick you up about 7:30.’

"I'll pick you up about 7:30," Lois repeated, her head shaking, and her eyes glinting fire. "Do I look like I want to be picked up? Do I look like a woman who would go out with a libido-infested ego masquerading as a man? Do I look like a woman who would find anything remotely interesting in a powdered, primped, puffed-up, pompous, pubescent playboy?"

"Nice alliteration," Clark said with deep admiration.

Some of Lois's annoyance dissipated. "Sorry, Clark," she said with a wry smile. "I’m a bit worked up."

No kidding. Clark stood and laid what he hoped was a supportive, non-threatening hand on her shoulder. "Would you like me to have a word with him?"

"No," Lois said. "I think I finally got across that I wouldn’t be going out with him if he were the last male in Metropolis."

Clark grimaced. "Is he hurt much?" he asked.

She grinned suddenly, and it felt like the sun breaking out from behind a dark and ominous cloud. "Only one small part of him. Actually, make that two – very small – parts of him."

Clark grimaced again but his mind moved on quickly from the coffee boy’s discomfort. Despite the dubious start, this might be exactly the opening he needed. "You could tell him you’re going out with me," he suggested casually.

For a tiny moment, Lois’s eyes rammed into his, but too soon, she broke away and said, "Clark, that is very sweet of you, but you don’t need to ask me out just to keep the freshman fop from harrassing me."

"That’s not -"

"It’s not necessary." Lois patted his arm and gave him a friendly smile. "Thanks for the offer, Clark, but if the day comes when I can’t handle a teenager high on testosterone, that will be the day you need to put me in a retirement home."

She walked away from him and settled at her desk. Clark followed her. "Coffee?" he asked offhandedly.

"Clark, there is no need to -"

"Would you like coffee?" he reiterated, slowly and evenly.

Lois turned on her computer. "I can fight my own battles," she reminded him.

"All I'm offering is coffee," he said. And a date.

"Thank you," Lois said, somewhat surprisingly. "That would be lovely."

"OK," Clark said. "I’ll be back in a few minutes."

The two people in the elevator stepped out as he entered. The doors slid shut, and he was alone.

He hadn't managed to ask Lois for a date, but he had managed to ease her out of her irritated mood. That was progress. Perhaps when he returned with her coffee ...

But if they went out on a story, they would have to pass the coffee booth. And the coffee boy. Lois walked past him multiple times every day - which was probably how he had noticed her.

A few quiet words were needed.

But if Clark delivered the words, he risked Lois's ire turning on him. And that was *not* going to pave the way for asking her for a date.

Clark reached for his tie and loosened the knot.

Two seconds later, the elevator opened on the ground floor, and Superman strode out. He went directly to the cafe and stopped in front of where the young man was operating the coffee machine with exaggerated flourish. When the kid looked up, his face broke into a wide smirk.

"Superman," he said. "I know why you’re here."

Clark seriously doubted that. "Why?"

The young man leant forward and dropped his voice. "Being of alien extraction, I’m guessing you’ve come for advice regarding Earth women." He winked. "You know, a few hints on how to ensure every encounter ends ... satisfactorily."

Actually, Clark was most interested in *this* encounter ending satisfactorily. "I came to give *you* some advice," he said in a tone that most would have realised didn't bode well.

The young dolt didn’t. He stared at Clark, his face distorted with what appeared to be genuine befuddlement. "I’m not sure I need any advice," he said. "But I’m willing to share a few pointers with you." He took a deep breath as if priming himself for a long monologue. "First, it’s very important to be in the right place at the right time – that shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you. Then you need to develop the skill of accurately assessing exactly what she wants to hear. Then you - "

"Lois Lane," Clark said through gritted teeth. "Do you know her?"

He grinned lecherously, and Clark had to restrain himself from blowing a wind tunnel straight through the middle of the boy's meticulously untidy thatch of gelled hair. "*Know* her?" he said patronisingly. "I have a *date* with her tonight."

The kid's assumption that he could effortlessly achieve the very thing Clark had obsessed over for weeks felt like poisoned barbs being scattered through his stomach.

"Let me make myself clear," Clark said in a voice that had gone beyond exasperation and was now dangerously calm. "You do *not* have a date with Ms Lane tonight. You will *never* have a date with her. From now on, you will not look at her, you will not speak to her, you will not touch her, you will not make her coffee, and you will not so much as even *think* her name. Do you understand?"

The coffee boy’s bluster faltered, but only for a moment. Then he winked. "Ooohh, I understand," he drawled. "You have designs on the little lady yourself."

"No," Clark lied, justifying himself because Superman definitely didn't have *designs* on Lois Lane. "I just don't like to see any woman being hounded."

"I don't think you understand," the kid said. "She -"

"The only thing you need to understand is that Ms Lane finds it repugnant being hit on by a child."

The coffee boy blanched. "A ... a ... a ch-"

"Impossible as this may be for you to comprehend," Clark said, pushing home the advantage of actually having gagged the young man. "Ms Lane is not interested in you."

The coffee boy had remarkable resilience. "That’s OK," he breezed. "I enjoy the challenge. There’s nothing like a feisty female to separate the men from the boys."

That exceeded Clark’s limit of patience. He leant forward over the counter and engaged the kid eyeball to eyeball. "Do you remember Ms Lane’s reaction to your approach this morning?"

Clark knew he had hit home – figuratively – when the young man grimaced.

"Next time, it won’t be Ms Lane’s knee; it will be mine."

The coffee boy gulped, his Adam's apple leaping through the pimply skin of his throat.

Clark had no desire to engage in this conversation again, so he decided to drive home his point. He glanced meaningfully to the coffee machine. "I like my coffee beans finely ground," he observed. "To a pulp."

The coffee boy’s eyes slowly slid to the coffee machine.

Clark turned and marched out of the building.

He flew to Italy and bought two coffees from the little cafe he knew had the best in Europe.

A minute later, once again dressed as Clark, he gave Lois her coffee. She took it with a smile of thanks and turned back to her work before he could open a conversation.

Clark slumped into his chair. Even the coffee couldn't raise his spirits.

He'd almost lost his cool. Over a teenager!

And he hadn't asked Lois for a date.

Attempt number one – fail.

||_||

10:13am

Clark had worked through a mountain of background research for the human-interest feature Perry had assigned him for the Sunday edition.

He had also observed Lois – very carefully – as her residual annoyance from the early morning encounter with the coffee boy had slowly evaporated.

By Clark's estimation, the time was ripe for attempt two.

He watched for an opening – a small change in her posture that would indicate she wouldn’t be too unwelcoming of an interruption. And perhaps receptive to an invitation.

When he saw her lean back in her seat and wriggle her shoulders, he rose from his desk and approached her, trying to appear natural. "How’s it going, Lois?" he asked.

Her deep sigh wasn’t encouraging. "Do you know who Calvin Montgomery is?"

"No."

"He's the second richest man in America. He lives on the West Coast."

"That's a long way from Metropolis," Clark noted.

"Yeah. But Bobby Bigmouth told me he has rented a huge mansion on the exclusive side of the port and is going to be living here for three months."

"Does it check out?"

"Yes. He quietly slipped into town without causing even a ripple through the business world."

"What are you thinking?" Clark asked.

"Secret takeover attempt? Fraudulent business deal? An affair? Family break up? Is he running *to* something? Or *away* from something?"

"What do you have so far?"

Lois sighed. "I've been checking all of his associates - business and personal. Every deal he's ever done. Every charity he's supported. Every company he's ever owned."

Clark gave a low whistle. "That has got to be a huge list. Need any help?"

"Aren't you working on a feature for Sunday?"

"Yes," he said. "But I have some time if you'd like to give me your list."

Lois smiled at him. "Thanks, Clark," she said, turning to her computer. "I'll email you the file. You start at the bottom."

He waited while she sent the email, feverishly forming the words in his mind as his heart pounded with nervousness. "Lois?"

"Yes?"

"Would you -"

Her phone jangled across his incipient invitation. Her attention hadn't wavered, Clark noticed, but he couldn’t ask her something this important against the background of clamorous noise.

He gestured to the phone. "You should get that; it could be important."

Lois picked up the phone. "Really? Where? When? Now? I’ll be there." She slammed down the phone, rose from her chair in a graceful movement, and hooked her bag on her shoulder. "Got to go," she said.

Clark felt his panic erupt. He couldn’t ask Lois for a date if she were out chasing a lead and he was stuck in the newsroom. "I’ll come, too," he said, detouring to his desk to grab his jacket.

She stalled at the elevator and eyed him questioningly. "I thought you were going to be tied up all morning with that touchy-feely piece Perry gave you."

"I’m nearly done," Clark said. "And I need to stretch my legs."

"OK," she said with a shrug that probably indicated that it wouldn’t be her neck on the line if his feature didn't make deadline.

The elevator doors opened, and the three occupants exited. Clark felt his heart accelerate. This was his moment - alone in the elevator car with Lois.

"Kent!"

Clark turned to see Perry crossing the bullpen like a hound after a fox. "Chief?" he said, although he knew exactly what was coming.

"I haven’t seen so much as a draft of the story I gave you two days ago."

"I’ve been researching, Chief," Clark said. Behind him, he heard the doors of the elevator close – stealing Lois away from him.

"Researching the local coffee shops with Lois?" Perry said sarcastically.

Clark figured the only acceptable response was to return to his desk. He did, trying not to look too much like a scolded child.

Attempt number two – fail.

||_||

10:58am

Clark used a few extra skills to get his skeleton notes into something resembling a draft and sent it to Perry. Then he worked through the list Lois had sent him.

He discovered nothing that was likely to make her particularly happy or particularly grateful for his assistance. He typed a few words to that effect, but paused before sending his reply.

What if he were to ask her out via email? It could definitely be considered the soft option – but it wasn’t so much the fear of her response that made him consider it, but the fear that unless his luck changed significantly, the opportunity he needed would continue to elude him.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He could compose something, he decided, and then if it sounded too bad, he could delete it before sending the email.

Dear Lois, he typed. He stared at it - it looked absurd coming just after he had signed off. He deleted that and tried again.

PS ... Lois ... this is probably not the best way to ask, but my first attempts amounted to nothing, so I thought ...

No, that sounded pathetic.

Again, Clark deleted his last line.

Lois ... I want to ask you out ... on a date. Is there any chance you’d accept?

He read the line over and over. Maybe ... maybe that would work. He *hadn’t* actually asked her out, so he could still do it properly - face to face. But this might cushion the blow. This might give her some forewarning - so that only one of them would be awkwardly tongue-tied when he actually uttered the scary words.

Which might mean only that her rejection came more quickly, Clark thought grimly.

He pushed the mouse to ‘send’ and hesitated. Then, he closed his eyes and clicked. When he opened them again, his email had been sent.

He’d done it. Well, he’d paved the way.

Clark sank back into his chair, unsure if he felt euphoric or terrified.

It probably depended on how Lois reacted when she read his email.

||_||

12:14pm

Clark listened as the elevator returned Lois to the newsroom. As she passed each level, so the intensity of Clark’s thumping heart increased. He knew she would come into the bullpen, sit at her computer, and check her emails.

His throat dried.

Two minutes. *Less* than two minutes ... and Lois would know.

There would be no turning back.

The elevator rattled to a stop, and she walked out. Clark glanced up, timing it with perfect precision to catch sight of her the instant she came into view. Her head turned in his direction, and she smiled.

She bypassed her desk and came to his.

Clark groaned silently. Any other time, he would have been delighted to talk with her. But right now, the suspense was excruciating.

"How ... how did it go?" he asked.

Lois groaned. "Nothing I can use," she said. "I *know* there is something newsworthy about Mr Calvin Montgomery coming to Metropolis, but I can’t discover what, and I’m not close to nailing enough hard evidence that Perry would even read my story."

Clark gave her a sympathetic smile. "I checked that list for you," he said.

"Thanks," Lois said with a smile that lit his world. "Anything jump out?"

"Not really," Clark replied, wishing he’d found something that would cause her smile to linger.

She put her hand on his arm in a friendly gesture. "Thanks for trying," she said.

"I emailed you what I got," he said, trying so hard to keep his tone casual that the words came out sounding hollow.

Did he imagine that her gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer than was necessary? Did he imagine the tiny tweak of her eyebrow raised in muted question? Perhaps she had already picked up that he was behaving oddly today.

He needed to do this. And he needed to do it now. "Lo-"

"CK!" Jimmy sprang from nowhere and shoved a handful of papers at Clark. "Look at this, CK."

Lois stepped away. "Thanks for your help," she said over her shoulder.

Clark watched as she moved to her desk. Jimmy had launched into a garbled explanation of why these papers were so earth-shatteringly important. Clark dragged his eyes from Lois and used about ten percent of his attention to speed-read them.

Lois’s chair slid across the floor, and her knees disappeared under her desk.

Ten seconds.

She tapped her keys, logging in. Jimmy was hovering, expecting a response. "Thanks, Jimmy," Clark said. "This looks great. Good work. I'll get back to you."

Five.

Her mouse rolled across her desk as she opened her email account.

"Do you think you'll be able to use it in your story?" Jimmy asked.

Two.

"Sure," Clark said. "It's exactly what I need."

One.

"ARRGGGH!" Lois shrieked.