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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Lois Lane moved the last of her files into her desk drawer and switched off her computer. She swept her gaze over the desk, sure she was forgetting something but unable to put her finger on what still needed to be done. She stood and carried her coffee cup to the communal sink, washing it quickly and then carrying it back to her desk.

“Heading out, Lois?” Jimmy asked, stopping at her desk. His arms were laden with a stack of photographs, and she assumed he was headed to Perry’s office.

“I guess,” she said hesitantly. Her eyes darted automatically to the clock on the wall. It was only six o’clock, far earlier than she usually wound up leaving for the evening, and the bullpen echoed with the sound of keys clicking as reporters raced to meet their evening deadlines. But her story was filed, and she didn’t have anything else in the works since she would be out for the rest of the week. There was no reason to stick around, and she still needed to pack.

“Did you get the fax I put on your desk? The itinerary for the conference?”

She laughed and opened her desk drawer, pushing aside the files folders, and pulling out the fax she had shoved in there earlier.

“Thanks, Jimmy. I knew I was forgetting something,” she said, holding the papers aloft.

“Looking forward to a few days off?” Jimmy asked.

Lois shrugged. It was an honor to be invited to give a speech at the Association of High School Journalists convention, but it wasn’t exactly her idea of a great time. The speech itself was no problem, but she was less enthused about the breakout session that she would be leading tomorrow afternoon. She had no idea how to relate to teenagers, and she was hoping she would be able to impart some wisdom without the whole thing being too painful for everyone involved.

Jimmy laughed. He knew her well enough to guess about her feelings about mentoring teenagers, and he likely suspected – correctly – that she was also reluctant to miss two days in the newsroom, conceding any breaking news stories to her colleagues.

“Hey, at least you’ll be in Miami,” he said. “You sure you don’t need someone to travel with you and assist?”

Lois shook her head, but smiled. The location was definitely a perk. This winter had seemed to drag on forever, and even in mid-April, the streets and sidewalks of Metropolis were still a slushy mess of dirty snow. It was almost enough to make her long for last winter, when a freak heat wave had rocked the city for weeks, thanks to Lex Luthor and his unhinged plan to blame the heat on a rival utility company, driving them out of business. Her investigative work had uncovered the true source of the heatwave, but it would be months before she could prove it was the work of Metropolis’ beloved philanthropist.

“Olsen!” Perry thundered from his office doorway.

Jimmy cringed, but his smile betrayed his lack of fear. “I better get these in there,” he said, tilting his head toward the chief’s office. “Have a good trip!”

He took off at a brisk walk, and Lois pulled on her coat and retrieved her bag from below her desk. She gave the newsroom a final glance, and then rolled her eyes at her reluctance to leave, and headed for the elevator.

Thirty minutes later, she was in her apartment. She locked each of her five locks methodically and strode through the living room, dropping her keys onto the kitchen table. She opened the refrigerator door and wrinkled her nose at the leftover Chinese takeout that couldn’t possibly still be good and the prepackaged salad that had seemed like such a good idea at the grocery store last week and now looked wilted and sad.

She grabbed a diet soda and closed the door. The blinking light on her answering machine caught her eye, and she took a few steps over to the counter and hit the play message button.

“Hey, sis!” came Lucy’s perky voice. “I figured it was too early to catch you at home, but I thought I’d try before I head to work for the dinner shift. Nothing too exciting to report here. The job is still fine and my new roommate is all moved in. So far, so good. Give me a call when you get a chance. I want an update on that cute guy of yours! I struck out big time with that new bartender, so I need to live vicariously through you. Talk to you soon. Love ya!”

Lois hit the “erase message” button and tried not to feel too guilty. The fact that Lucy was asking about a guy Lois had ended things with a month ago just went to show how long it had been since they had talked. She really needed to make time to call her more often, but it was just hard to find a time that worked for both of them since Lucy worked evenings, and the three hour time difference meant her sister was usually just falling into bed when Lois was getting up for the day.

If she was honest, she was also dreading telling Lucy that she had ended things with Dan after just a handful of dates. Her younger sister was always harping on her to get out there and take some risks where men were concerned, and she had been so excited to hear about Lois’ potential love interest.

Dan was a DEA agent in town investigating the death of a friendly acquaintance of hers – an assistant DA who had been killed in a car bombing. She had met him when their investigations overlapped, and he had been flirty and fun.

She didn’t usually like to mix business and pleasure, but since he was only in town for one assignment, she had thought a few casual dates wouldn’t hurt. And she had been right – it was totally fine, but they just hadn’t had much chemistry. When he returned to Washington last month, they had made polite noises about continuing to see each other when time permitted, but neither of them had been interested in making the effort a long distance relationship would require. They exchanged a few half-hearted, awkward phone calls, and when she had finally decided it was a waste of both their time, Dan hadn’t seemed surprised to hear her “I just don’t think I’m up for a long-distance relationship” speech.

She was perfectly happy to be single. Not that she never thought about love or romance, but she wasn’t interested in settling just because she didn’t want to be alone.

Her sister flitted from boyfriend to boyfriend, changing them as often as she changed her nail polish, never staying single long enough to hear her own thoughts. That seemed exhausting to Lois – always trying to make a good impression, always trying to get to know someone new, deciding how much to tell them about yourself and how quickly.

No thanks, she thought, striding across the room to her fish tank and shaking a few flakes into the tank. Her fish clamored for the surface, fighting for room to gobble up the flakes, and she made a mental note to add the slow-release tablet of food to their tank before she left for the airport in the morning.

Her mind drifted back to the conference, and she felt the familiar twist of nerves as she thought about the session she was teaching the next day. The two-day conference would be attended by thousands of students from around the country. There were speeches in the mornings and breakout sessions both afternoons. Then Friday evening there was a ceremony where the annual Pacemaker awards – the Pulitzer of student journalism – would be awarded and she would be the featured speaker.

Her eyes flitted to the cabinet beside her fish tank where she displayed her awards. Last year, her three Kerths had filled the top shelf. But a few months ago, she had moved them – along with a fourth matching glass statuette – to the second row, making room on the top shelf for her framed Pulitzer certificate. She had won the coveted prize for her multi-part series, The Fall of the House of Luthor, detailing the insidious and widespread crimes committed by the man only just named Metropolis Man of the Year, and his fall from grace as he was arrested seconds before he could fling himself from the top of the tallest building the in the city rather than face justice.

Her investigative work had helped put him behind bars, and her reporting had exposed him for all to see. She had spent months last year completely obsessed with a man she knew was dirty, and watching him seethe quietly beside his defense attorney in court had been almost as rewarding as the announcement of her Pulitzer for Investigative Journalism. Almost.

Ten years ago, she had attended the conference where she would be speaking, accepting the Pacemaker on behalf of her high school newspaper and dreaming of the day it was a Pulitzer. And in two days, she would be standing on the stage as a Pulitzer winner addressing students at the Pacemaker award ceremony, many of them with that same dream in mind. It was a little surreal.

She had her speech all written, and she was honestly looking forward to that part of the conference. Tomorrow’s break out session was more disconcerting. She was teaching a two-hour Master Class in investigative journalism to forty of the nation’s best and brightest aspiring journalists.

Attendance at the conference was open to any high schooler who paid the fee and made travel arrangements. But admission to her master class had been vetted thoroughly. The chosen students had come from a pool of hundreds, each submitting an extensive application, teacher and community leader recommendations, and a portfolio of their writing samples.

The first hour of the session would be a lesson in her investigative techniques and her writing process. The second hour was a question and answer session, and that was the part that made her cringe. She hadn’t had any contact with high schoolers since she had been one herself, and the thought of facing a room full of teens who fancied themselves the best reporters of their generation, looking to prove themselves to her and to their peers, made her sweat a little. But there was nothing else she could do to prepare, so she just shoved the nerves aside and hoped they would be too awed by her to ask any questions that threw her for a loop.

She resolved to stop worrying about it and headed to her bedroom to pack.

****

Clark Kent was seated at his desk, going over lesson plans for his sub when he heard the knock at the door. He glanced up and saw Lana Ross standing in the doorway to his classroom. He started to stand automatically, but she waved him off, rolling her eyes at his chivalry.

“About done?” she asked, walking into his room and perching on one of the desks in the front row.

“Yeah, just checking over these lesson plans. I always feel like I leave too much information, but better too much than not enough.”

Lana laughed. “If you say so. I left mine a tape of Sense and Sensibility.”

Clark rolled his eyes and straightened the papers on his desk before standing and reaching for his briefcase. Lana stood too, following him out of the classroom and down the hall.

“You all packed and ready to go?” he asked. “You didn’t forget anything? The van leaves at 4:00 sharp. I’m not waiting for you.”

She shot him a dirty look and then laughed. “Are you kidding? Four kid-free days in Miami? I’ve been packed for a week.”

“You do know there will be kids there, right?” he teased.

“Not MY kids,” she countered. “And they all wipe their own butts.”

“Let’s hope,” he said, mock horrified, eliciting another laugh.

“Seriously, I’m so excited about sleeping alone in a big hotel bed for four nights. I’m going to get more sleep this week than I normally do in a month.” She grinned widely.

Lana’s kids were notoriously poor sleepers, at least from what he could gather. Having no kids of his own, he wasn’t sure if their sleep habits were actually worse than their peers, or if all kids tortured their parents with sleep deprivation. But either way, Lana’s sleep woes were a common refrain.

“Pete didn’t panic at the last minute and beg you to stay?” he asked, mostly teasing. Pete was a great dad, perfectly capable of handling their kids on his own for a couple of days.

Lana waved a hand dismissively. “He’s got both sets of grandparents on standby. He’ll probably get more time off this week than he would if I was in town. And last time I went out of town overnight, I came home and got knocked up with Caleb that night, so I’m pretty sure he’s-”

“Too much information, Lana,” he interrupted, holding up a hand as if it could stop her from sharing any more details. “Too much information.”

“You’re such a prude, Kent,” she said for the millionth time. She rolled her eyes, her laughter echoing in the empty hallway of the high school where they had once been students.

He saw her suddenly as a sixteen year old — blond hair in a perky ponytail, blue eyes sparkling as she attempted to regale him with details of her after-prom festivities with his best friend, Pete Ross. It had taken years of flirting and denying their feelings to reach that point, and somehow Clark had wound up the reluctant sounding board for both of them as they reveled in their newfound romance.

Not much had changed in that regard in the past decade. Pete and Lana had attended college together, marrying immediately after graduation and returning to their hometown where Pete went to work for his dad’s insurance agency, and Lana got a job teaching English and drama at their alma mater. Their daughter was born a couple years later, her little brother arriving just before her second birthday.

Clark had arrived back home just before Caleb’s birth. After attending college at Midwest University, he had spent the next few years traveling the world and doing freelance reporting. He had hoped to spend a few more years traveling and building his resume before applying for reporting jobs back in the US, but his father’s heart attack had disrupted those plans.

When Jonathan Kent suffered a major heart attack while driving a combine on his Kansas farm, he had been rushed to the local hospital and then transported to Wichita for intensive care. Clark had rushed home the moment his mother called, terrified he was only coming to say goodbye.

Thankfully his father had made a full recovery. But it had a slow process, and he had needed someone to run the farm while he convalesced. Clark’s mother had tried to reassure him that they could hire someone temporarily, but he knew his parents’ financial situation well enough to know that was a pipe dream.

He moved home immediately and took over the day-to-day operations of the farm, sliding back into his high school routine of Friday night football games and weekends hanging out with Pete and Lana. The only major difference was Lana’s growing belly and her pint-sized clone tagging along.

Clark had always liked kids, and it was only a matter of time before his goddaughter had him completely wrapped around her little finger. Four and half years later, Sophie had grown into a vivacious kindergartener, and he was still smitten with both her and her little brother. Coming home to Smallville had never really been a part of his life plan, but watching them grow up and being a big part of their lives was definitely a decent consolation prize, especially since he knew that they were likely as close as he would ever come to children of his own.

Originally he had thought he would stay home just long enough to get his dad back to operating at full capacity. But by the time he was up for taking over all his duties again, Lana was weeks from giving birth to Caleb, and the high school principal asked him to consider stepping in as her long-term sub while she was on maternity leave. He had agreed to stay on through the end of the school year, lending his dad a hand on evenings and weekends, and had been surprised to discover how much he loved teaching.

When the high school’s other English teacher, a woman who had been at the school for nearly fifty years and had taught both Clark and his parents, finally announced her retirement that Spring, he had — with the encouragement of both her and their principal — applied for an accelerated summer program to obtain his teaching credentials and taken over her position in a permanent capacity. This was his third full year of teaching, and though it wasn’t his original career plan, he genuinely loved it and found it incredibly rewarding.

He had bought a house in downtown Smallville, just a few miles from the high school, and resurrected the Smallville Tiger Times, a weekly school newspaper that had gone defunct in the years since he and Lana had graduated. Mentoring his reporters and editors had become his passion project, and he had been astounded and elated when his team had been awarded a Pacemaker for their series of articles on rural teens balancing their education and extracurricular activities with the responsibility of helping to run family farms.

He followed Lana through the front doors of the school and onto the front walk, where he found three of his eight students gathered already, despite it still being twenty minutes until their assigned meeting time. They chatted animatedly, suitcases and duffle bags at their feet. This was their first year attending the annual Association of High School Journalists conference, and he knew most of his students had never been on a plane or outside of the midwest before. Traveling across the country, meeting with leaders in the field, was an exciting opportunity for them, and they had spent months planning and fundraising for this trip.

Clark left Lana to supervise their students and walked to the teacher’s parking lot to retrieve the school van he would be using to transport them to the airport in Wichita, stopping by his truck on the way to grab his own suitcase and transfer it to the trunk of the van. He pulled the van up to the curb and greeted the two students who had arrived in the meantime, then opened the trunk and began loading all the bags and suitcases. Before long, all his students had arrived and were piled into the van, arguing good naturedly about what radio station to listen to on the way, and he and Lana climbed into the front seats.

He glanced over at her as they pulled out of the parking lot, and was slightly alarmed to see her eyeing him thoughtfully.

“What?” he asked, suspiciously.

“I was just thinking…there are going to be a lot of chaperones at this conference, at least a handful of them have to be young, single, attractive women….”

“Lana,” he said, his tone resigned but with a hint of warning. She would never be content until she had him married off with two kids and white picket fence.

“I know, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I’m just saying…you never know….”

****

Lois looked out at the room full of eager young faces, hands in the air, and smiled. This class had wound up being far more enjoyable than she had anticipated. They had listened intently, most of them furiously scribbling notes, as she had outlined her work process. She had woven in a number of stories about past investigations and award-winning articles, and to her relief, the students had laughed in all the right places and seemed to hang on her every word.

She had just opened up the floor for questions, and was unsurprised to see almost every hand in the air.

“Okay, when I call on you, could you please start by introducing yourself?” she asked. “Just your name and high school or city.”

She saw a few nods and pointed to a girl in the front row.

“Ashley Jones,” the girl said eagerly. “I’m a senior at Council Bluffs High School in Iowa. Is it true that you dated Lex Luthor before exposing him?”

Lois sighed. One gossip rag prints a photo of her talking to Luthor at his White Orchid Ball, and the rumors live on forever. “I never dated Lex Luthor. I did have dinner with him once, early in my investigation. It was intended on my part to be an interview. Shockingly, Mr. Luthor was not at all forthcoming during that dinner. I pressed him on a number of issues, and he talked about opera. He did not extend any future dinner invitations, and I chose to dig deeper into his background rather than pursuing access to the man himself.”

She scanned the room, her eyes falling on a small, light-skinned Black boy in glasses. She nodded at him.

“Terrance Craig. Washington High. Fredericksburg, Maryland. I have a question about ethics. How do you justify breaking laws to get a story about someone who is breaking laws?”

“That’s a great question,” Lois replied. “There’s no easy answer to that. Every journalist has to decide for themself what they are willing to do in pursuit of a story.”

Lois stopped and looked around the room. If she admitted how frequently and with what little remorse she bent the law, she was sure to hear complaints from parents and teachers.

“What do you think?” she asked the group. “Is it okay to break into a locked building or trespass on private property in pursuit of a story? What about lying to an interview subject?”

There was some shifting and whispering, and finally a girl in the middle of the room raised a hand tentatively. Lois nodded at her.

She cleared her throat nervously. “Hannah McIntire. Smallville High. Smallville, Kansas. Uh, my teacher, Mr. Kent, he talks about ethics a lot. He says the reporter’s creed should be like the doctor’s creed – first do no harm. He says the most important thing to keep in mind is that you have to live with yourself after the fact. And if you compromise your values in pursuit of a story, it’s hard to do that.”

Before Lois could respond, the hand of the boy sitting next to her shot up, and Lois gestured to him. “Alex Cauldwell. Smallville High. Mr. Kent also says people are more important than property. If breaking into a locked office could save the life of dozens of patients at a corrupt medical practice, how can anyone make an argument that the breakin is unethical?”

He directed that question to the girl sitting beside him, and Lois had a feeling this wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate. She was surprised to see two students from the same high school – especially some school in Kansas of all places – in her Master Class, given how competitive it was to gain admission.

“That’s an excellent point,” she replied. “It’s one I ponder a lot. I like to think of the greater good when I’m trying to make these decisions. There are no easy answers for something like this. Honestly, I tend to go with my gut and there have been times afterwards where I feel like I’ve made a bad decision. All you can do in those situations is hope that the ends justify the means and learn from it moving forward.”

She paused, and the room was quiet for a moment before hands started to go up. She answered a handful of questions about her background and getting started in the field – internship opportunities, college majors, and building rapport with local community leaders as a new reporter – and she was surprised to see how quickly the hands on the clock at the back of the room were ticking.

She pointed to a girl with long blond hair. “Sarah Taggart. I’m a senior at Smallville High, in Smallville-”

“Hold on a second,” Lois interrupted, baffled. “How many of you are from Smallville High?”

Four hands went up, the blonde as well as the two students who had debated ethics earlier and a studious looking boy sitting beside the blonde. They smiled awkwardly at her obvious surprise. Fully ten percent of her Master Class, she thought. That couldn’t possibly be right.

“Where is Smallville? How big is your school?” she asked, wondering if it was perhaps a misnomer. Perhaps it was a large metropolitan school in the state capital.

“We’re about an hour outside of Wichita,” the blonde replied. “Smallville is a little farming community. Our graduating class this year is seventy-four.”

Lois did some quick math. “So your high school has a population of about three hundred, and there are four of you here.”

“Four of us were chosen for this session,” the girl confirmed, a note of pride sneaking into her voice. “There are eight of us here altogether. This is our first year attending. We won a Pacemaker.”

Lois raised an eyebrow and nodded appreciatively. “Congratulations,” she said. “Go ahead with your question.”

“Oh, I wanted to ask about cultivating sources. Anonymous sources. How do you go about finding them and getting them to open up to you?”

“You have to put yourself out there,” she said. “Be in the community. Talk to people. It takes time. The more name recognition you get, the more likely they are to come to you. The most important thing is to build their trust. If you betray a source, everyone will know it and no one will trust you again. If you can prove you are trustworthy with small confidences, your sources will bring you bigger and bigger information.”

A hand went up at the back of the room, and Lois nodded to the boy. “Asher Michaels. PS 162. New York City. Do you pay your sources?”

Lois shook her head. “The Daily Planet has a strict policy against paying sources for information. I will offer enticements like bringing them dinner or trading information. But never cash or anything of value.”

A hand in the middle of the room went up and Lois pointed, realizing belatedly it was the brunette from earlier. “Hannah McIntire. Smallville High. Mr. Kent says that if you pay sources, you can’t trust the information they give you. Is that true?”

Lois nodded. “Absolutely. That’s not to say that you can blindly trust an unpaid source, but a paid source has extra incentive to lie or make up information. If they think fabricating information will get them a bigger payout, you can see how tempting that would be. Even if the Planet didn’t have a policy against it, I would never pay my sources. The best kind of relationship to have with a source is one that’s mutually beneficial. You want sources who come to you because they trust you to solve a problem or shed light on something.”

Lois answered a few final questions, and was surprised to find herself genuinely disappointed as she wrapped up the session.

“This was a lot of fun,” she said honestly. “Thank you all for participating.”

They murmured their thanks as they rose from their seats, some making a beeline for the door while others lingered, filtering out slowly. She noticed the crew from Smallville High had converged, and were talking animatedly while the rest of the room emptied out.

She gathered her folders and files, tucking them in her bag, and smiled as she overheard the now familiar, “Mr. Kent says…” refrain.

She was curious about this Mr. Kent who had managed to get four students from his small, rural high school into her master class. She wondered if he had an inside connection to the selection committee.

Maybe he was a retired newshound finding his second life as a high school teacher. She pictured someone like Perry, missing the fast-paced, all-consuming atmosphere of the newsroom and throwing himself into teaching with the same gusto.

She looked up just in time to see a man poke his head into the conference room, his gaze landing on the knot of Smallville High students, alone now in the room aside from her. He stepped into the room, and she didn’t even pretend not to notice. He was roughly her age, tall, well built with dark hair and glasses. His blue dress shirt pulled tight across his shoulders as he waved a hand to catch their attention.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “Are you finished?”

Four heads snapped in his direction, and the students clamored for his attention, speaking over each other to tell him about the session. He smiled, a wide warm smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“I want to hear all about it,” he said, holding up a hand to quiet them. “But if you want to have time in the vendor hall before they close, you need to get a move on. Mrs. Ross is already in there with everyone else. Whether you check out the vendors or not, be in the lobby at six sharp so we can leave for dinner.”

There was a chorus of agreement as they rushed past him through the doorway and, she assumed, off to the vendor hall.

“You must be the famous Mr. Kent,” she said when they were alone in the room.

His head swiveled to her, and she registered the surprise on his face, and then the confusion.

“Every question they asked during the Q and A section started with, ‘Mr. Kent says…’,” she teased. He flushed, clearly embarrassed, and she smiled with delight.

“I hope they behaved themselves,” he said. “They’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. They were all so excited to be accepted into the class.”

“They were wonderful. Honestly, it was a great group overall – really engaged – and we had a spirited dialogue. Your students in particular asked some insightful questions.”

He smiled, clearly pleased to hear a favorable report about his students.

“I was surprised to see four students from the same school,” she said.

“Not nearly as surprised as I was to have four of my students accepted,” he said, walking toward her. “I encouraged them all to apply, but I would have been thrilled if even one of them had been accepted.”

He was standing in front of her now, that brilliant smile of his trained on her, and she had to force herself to hold his gaze and not turn away blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Clark Kent,” he said, holding out his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Lois Lane,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I know who you are, Ms. Lane,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m a big fan.”

“Lois, please,” she corrected. “You’ll make me feel eighty years old calling me Ms. Lane.”

He laughed.

“Lois,” he repeated, and the sound of her name in his voice sent a thrill up her spine. “That’s a side effect of working in a school, I’m afraid. I’ll do my best not to make you feel like an octogenarian.”

“Well, speaking of the elderly, I might as well confess I was picturing you as a crotchety old newspaperman working on a second career in teaching.”

“Oh, god,” he said. “Now I’m terrified to ask what they said about me in the class to lead you to that conclusion.”

“No, no,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. She pulled her hand away, and took a small step back, putting a little space between them since she was obviously losing her mind. She knew absolutely nothing about this man. Why was she touching him?

“It wasn’t anything they said,” she clarified. “I was just trying to imagine the type of teacher who managed to fill ten percent of my master class with kids from a farming community in the middle of nowhere Kansas with a graduating class size of seventy-four.”

“How in the world do you know the graduating class size of Smallville High?” he asked, clearly impressed and possibly a little charmed.

“I’m a reporter,” she replied, she said with a flirty grin she couldn’t seem to prevent. “It’s my job to know things.”

“What else do you know about Smallville High?” he asked, the lilt of a challenge in his voice, his mouth quirking up into that grin again.

“It’s…an hour outside Wichita?” she said, hoping she was remembering that correctly, and he nodded in confirmation. “And your paper won a Pacemaker.”

His grin became a full-fledged smile and he nodded again. “That’s right,” he confirmed.

“What for?” she asked. “The articles that won you the award, what were they about?”

“We published a series of articles last year about the unique challenges faced by rural high school students – particularly those trying to balance academics and extracurriculars with family obligations like helping to run farms.”

Lois tilted her head, listening quietly and waiting for him to say more.

“Smallville is full of families who need their kids to help work the farms if they are going to stay afloat,” he said, warming up to his topic. It was clear this was something he was passionate about. “They don’t have a choice. If everyone doesn’t pitch in, the farms will fold. That can make it difficult for our students to excel academically or participate in the kind of extracurriculars that would win them a college scholarship. Even our best and brightest struggle to make it out.”

“That must be hard as a teacher,” she said when he paused. “To see students with so much potential fail to realize their dreams.”

“Many of my students want to stay,” he said. “Their families have lived on this land for generations. But the ones who dream of more and struggle to find that path, those are the ones who often slip through the cracks. Sarah and Henry – they were in your class just now – they wrote a series of articles exploring this topic, including a few profiles of alumni who left and alumni who stayed.”

“That sounds fascinating,” she said, and she was surprised to find that she meant it. It was not the sort of topic she normally gave any attention. It was too soft; too touchy-feely. But hearing the passion in his voice made her feel compelled to read it.

“I’ll admit, I hope that winning this award – and attending this conference – will reinforce for these students that they have choices,” he said, and she understood that these students in her class were exactly the type he had just described.

She was quiet for a minute, contemplating this kind of childhood. Her own teenage years had been rocky, full of strife between her and her feuding parents. But she had never lacked for opportunity. There had never been any question that she would attend college, only what she would study there. She’d had plenty of time to study for her AP classes, play varsity tennis, and campaign for student class president. She had never had to consider giving up one of her extracurricular activities in order to stay home and work to keep their family home.

He squirmed under her gaze, and she wanted to hear more. “How did you wind up teaching at Smallville High?” she asked. “This isn’t some Teach for America type situation. This is personal for you.”

He raised his eyebrows, but nodded, confirming her hunch. “Smallville High, class of 1984.”

“You never left?” she asked, her brow furrowed. That didn’t feel right.

“I left,” he said. “And then I came back.”

“Where did you go?”

“First to Midwest University, on a scholarship. Then…everywhere. I spent a few years traveling and writing freelance. Mostly Eastern Europe and Asia, but I spent a little time in Northern Africa as well and a few months in the Amazon rainforest.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said, suddenly envious. “I did a year abroad in high school and spent the summer after my sophomore year of college backpacking through Europe, but that’s the extent of my travels, aside from the little I’ve done for work.”

“I loved it,” he said. “I learned so much during that time. I met so many people, learned about so many cultures. I wrote about everything from local tribal skirmishes to travel journals to science pieces.”

“Where would I have seen your work?” she asked, suddenly eager to read his writing.

He laughed. “You wouldn’t have. Not unless you have subscriptions to local newspapers like the Borneo Gazette. I had hoped to use those articles to wrangle a few assignments for American newspapers or travel magazines. I always planned to come back to the States and settle eventually, but I had hoped to build a stronger portfolio first and then use it to land a reporting job at a decent-sized paper.”

“But…” she said, waiting for the rest of the story.

“My dad had a heart attack,” he said softly, and she could see the pain of that time in his eyes. “He was in the ICU for weeks and then unable to work the farm for months. I’m an only child. I had to come home.”

There was something about the finality of the way he said it: “I had to come home.” Like there had never been any question about what he would do. Like it never even occurred to him that he might pursue his own dreams and let his parents figure out the farm.

“And after he recovered, you decided to stay?”

“I didn’t really decide to stay,” he said quietly. “I just…didn’t leave.”

He certainly spoke like a writer, she thought, hearing his unspoken ambivalence about his decision loud and clear.

“And now you teach at the high school where you attended, and you spend every bit of your free time mentoring your students and turning this tiny rural high school into a journalism powerhouse so they can see that they have opportunities outside of Smallville, Kansas.”

He said nothing, just allowed her to make her pronouncement. She was fascinated by him.

“Smallville is a wonderful town,” he said finally. “I love it. And if they love it and want to stay, then I’m happy for them. But I want them to stay because they love it, not because they don’t see any other options.”

“You love your job,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “I do. It’s not as exciting as the life I dreamed of as a kid. I’m not off saving the world by dethroning billionaires and winning Pulitzers while I do it,” he said with a wry grin, and she felt her cheeks warm with his praise. “But I’m making a difference in a small way. It might not be much in the grand scheme of things, but I hope it’s a big deal to my students.”

“You have a lot of time left to win that Pulitzer,” she said softly.

“You don’t even know if I can write,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “You haven’t seen a single thing I’ve written. For all you know, I gave up and came home because I have no talent.”

She couldn’t hold back the grin that his smile elicited in her. But she wasn’t going to let him get away with that either. “You coached your students to a Pacemaker, and got four of them into my master class. You’re no hack from Nowheresville.”

He smiled at her with a gentle affection that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her heart.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but they were interrupted by the opening of the door to the conference room. Their eyes went automatically to the door, where a middle aged woman in a gray housekeeping uniform was pushing a vacuum cleaner. She looked up and stopped abruptly when she saw them.

“Sorry,” she stuttered. “I thought this room was supposed to be empty for the night.”

Lois lifted her arm and glanced at the watch on her wrist and was shocked to see that it was after five thirty, and she had been standing in this room talking to Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas for nearly an hour.

“It’s fine,” she said to the woman in the doorway, as she gathered a handful of papers from the lectern and slid them into her bag. “I was just wrapping things up. The room is all yours.”

The woman began straightening the chairs and picking up loose pieces of garbage left behind by students.

Lois slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder and turned to face Clark again. She could see his reluctance to end their conversation plain on his face and felt an echoing regret.

“Can I…take you to dinner?” he asked quietly. “If you don’t have plans, I mean. I know you probably have obligations as a speaker or you already have plans but-“

“I’d love that,” she said, surprising herself and earning herself another of his wide, genuine smiles. She kicked herself mentally. What was she doing? Clark Kent was a nice guy, and she was really enjoying this conversation, but she wasn’t looking to hook up with a stranger. She wasn’t here to meet a guy, nice or otherwise.

Suddenly his face fell, and he scrubbed a hand across his forehead, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m an idiot. I have to have dinner with my kids. I’m their chaperone. I can’t just… I don’t suppose you want to join us for dinner?”

She hesitated, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity to backtrack and beg off. But on the other hand, maybe this was even better. She really was enjoying talking to him, and she had no plans for the evening. If she had dinner with his whole retinue of students in attendance, there was no longer any chance that this was a date. They were just two colleagues having dinner, discussing the industry with a table of high school students.

“Actually, that sounds great,” she said. “I’d love to continue my discussion with your students. Maybe it will give me some insight before my speech tomorrow. I don’t spend a lot of time with teens.”

He smiled at her, and her stomach flip flopped. Stop it, she told herself. It’s just dinner. You are never going to see this man again after this week. And you don’t know anything about him. He could be a serial killer or a drunk or…married. Her gaze flicked automatically to his left hand, and she tried to suppress the thrill of excitement when she found his ring finger bare. Still, even if he was as nice as he seemed, he was a school teacher in Kansas. No good could come from this kind of reaction to his smile.

He glanced at his watch. “We’re meeting in the lobby in twenty minutes. I should check the vendor hall and our rooms and make sure everyone is getting ready.”

She nodded. “That’s great. I should run up to my room and change,” she said, gesturing to the suit she was wearing. “Or not? Where are we going?”

“Just down the street to La Pesca. I hope that’s okay? We don’t get many opportunities for fresh seafood in Kansas,” he said with a grin. “It’s casual, so wear whatever.”

“That’s perfect,” she said, starting toward the door. He walked beside her, opening the door for her as they approached. In the busy hallway, they hesitated for just a moment, unsure how to leave things. “Well… I should…”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too…”

“Okay, I’ll just… I’ll meet you in the lobby in a bit.”

He nodded, smiling. “Great. I’ll just go wrangle my students.”

And then she forced herself to turn and walk toward the elevators.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Clark watched her walk away until she turned the corner and disappeared from sight, and then let out a long, slow breath. He could not believe Lois Lane had agreed to meet him for dinner, and if he was honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if he got to the lobby at six only to find a message waiting for him with a polite cancellation.

He had been reading her articles for years and had loosely followed her career since she had won the Pulitzer last year. He knew she was one of the youngest winners in the category, so he hadn’t been surprised by her youth or intelligence. But he hadn’t expected her to be funny. Or charming. Or gorgeous.

He had been looking forward to her speech tomorrow night. And while he waited in the hall for his students, the thought had crossed his mind that if he went into the conference room to retrieve them, he might have the opportunity to meet her and tell her he was a fan of her work.

But the second he saw her, he was enchanted. She had teased him about his students and his hometown, and immediately he had wanted so much more than just to tell her he was a fan.

And then she had drawn out his story.

It was easy to see why she was such an unparallelled reporter. She knew all the right questions to ask. She drew him in with her piercing gaze and patient silences. She saw him. She was dangerous.

He turned and walked quickly toward the exhibit hall, running into Lana with six of their students in tow before he made it all the way there.

“There you are!” she said, as he turned and fell in step with them, heading back to the elevators. “You disappeared.”

“Sorry, about that,” he replied, suddenly flustered.

She gave him an intrigued look. “Where were you?”

“I… I went to meet the kids at the master class,” he said.

She nodded. “I know. They came and met up with us an hour ago. I thought you’d be right behind them.”

“I wound up talking to the woman teaching the class – Lois Lane?” he said, forcing his voice to stay casual. “She was asking me about the Pacemaker we won and the work the kids did. We wound up talking a lot longer than I expected. Sorry about that.”

Lana laughed. “I swear to god, you never meet a stranger, do you? I should have figured.”

“I sort of invited her to join us for dinner,” he added, as they stopped in front of the bank of elevators.

Lana laughed harder. “Of course you did. Is she coming?” He nodded in confirmation. “She didn’t have other plans? Isn’t she the featured speaker tomorrow night? Doesn’t she have other obligations?”

He shrugged. “I guess not. She said she was looking forward to continuing the discussion with the kids. Apparently they had a lively dialogue in class.”

Lana shook her head in amusement. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. A few men in business suits emerged, and then they filed in.

In his room, Clark splashed cold water on his face and then quickly shaved and applied aftershave. He decided against changing. The blue shirt, tie and dark gray dress pants might be slightly overdressed for the restaurant, but the only other option he had brought besides businesswear was jeans, and he didn’t want to go that casual. On second thought, he yanked down the knot of his tie and slipped it over his head, tossing it on the bed. He undid the top button of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. That was better.

He checked his watch. Ten minutes until six. He checked to make sure he had his wallet, and glanced at himself in the mirror one more time, giving himself a quick lecture about the futility of the nerves he was feeling.

She was just being polite, joining them for dinner. It didn’t mean she was interested in him. What in the world would she see in a small town English teacher? She was Lois Lane. Pulitzer prize winning investigative journalist for The Daily Planet. She lived half a country away in the biggest, most exciting city in the country. She socialized with billionaires and media moguls. She was not going to give him a second glance.

And that was for the best. Because the last thing he needed was the best investigative journalist in the country looking at him too closely. He was just going to enjoy the pleasure of her company at dinner and then file this memory away with all the other once-in-a-lifetime opportunities he had been fortunate enough to experience.

He opened his door and crossed the hall, knocking on Lana’s door.

“Just a minute!” she called. He waited a minute, and then the door swung open. Lana had changed into jeans and a brightly-colored, ruffled sleeveless shirt.

She brushed past him, letting the door swing shut behind her, then paused and turned back to look at him, eyes narrowed.

“You smell good,” she said suspiciously.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, hoping the mock annoyance in his voice hid his embarrassment. “I smell exactly like I always do.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “And you lost the tie and did this,” she said, waving a finger at his shirt.

“It’s a casual restaurant, Lana. You changed your whole outfit. I’m just getting comfortable.”

“Uh huh,” she said. “If you wanted to be comfortable, you would change into jeans and one of your god awful plaid shirts.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my flannel shirts. But I didn’t bring any to Miami. It's ninety degrees outside.”

“Uh huh,” she said again, unimpressed by his explanation.

The door beside Lana’s room opened, and a gaggle of teen girls burst out, giggling. He herded his students toward the elevators, exchanging amused glances with Lana on the ride down as the girls made thinly veiled comments about the budding romance between Sarah and Henry.

In the lobby, Henry and Alex were seated in a large, otherwise deserted lounge area. Everyone claimed a seat to wait for the final two students in their group and the giggles and whispers increased as it was not-so-subtly arranged that Sarah would sit on the couch beside Henry.

Clark and Lana sat in a set of armchairs off to the side.

“She’s about as subtle as you were once you finally decided you were in love with Pete,” Clark teased.

Lana laughed. “Well, he doesn’t look like he’s putting up any more resistance than Pete did, so maybe they’re destined for a happily ever after.”

They talked for a minute about the walking route to the restaurant, and then Clark looked over Lana’s shoulder and spotted Lois heading their way. She had changed into a simple yellow sundress and sandals, and her glossy hair swung as she walked, the perfectly curled tips brushing her shoulders.

He stood immediately, his heart hammering in his chest, and he focused on keeping his feet on the floor as she approached.

“Hi,” he said, cringing internally at the breathless sound of his voice.

“Hi,” she replied, giving him a little smile that made his pulse accelerate.

Behind her, Lana stood, the shocked look on her face morphing into a smug smile. She looked from Lois back to Clark and silently mouthed, “Oh, hell yeah.”

Clark tried valiantly not to react. He put a hand on Lois’ arm, and gestured to Lana with his other hand. “Lois, this is Lana Ross. She’s the other English teacher at Smallville High.”

“I’m so glad you could join us,” Lana said, looking far too delighted with this development for Clark’s liking.

“Thanks for letting me crash your dinner,” Lois replied.

Before he could say anything else, they were interrupted by the last two students arriving via the elevator bay. All the students were on their feet, jostling and laughing, the girls pretending to be disgusted by the boys’ discussion of potential menu items like squid and octopus.

“Hey,” Clark said, and they quieted immediately. He gestured to Lois, standing beside him. “Those of you in today’s Master Class are familiar with Ms. Lane. You all know she’ll be the featured speaker at tomorrow's award ceremony. She’s agreed to join us for dinner tonight. It was very generous of her, and if any of you had any questions for her that you didn’t get to ask today, you should be sure to take advantage of this opportunity.”

The news was greeted with a chorus of excited whispers, and Clark waited for them to quiet down before continuing. “Let’s go. The restaurant is only a few blocks away, so we’ll walk. Pay attention and stay with the group.”

Clark watched approvingly as his students peppered Lois with questions during the walk to the restaurant and continued to ask follow up questions once they were seated, and he found himself as interested as they were in her answers.

Once the waiter brought their food, the students began chatting about personal topics, leaving the adults to their own conversation at one end of the table.

“Thank you for that,” Clark said quietly. “They’re going to remember this dinner forever.”

Lois blushed and tried to demure, but Lana cut her off. “He’s right. Most of these kids have never been outside Kansas. If they go to college, they’ll be the first person in their family to do it. Traveling halfway across the country and having dinner with a Pulitzer winner? They are going to tell this story for years.”

“Well, then I’m very glad to give them that,” Lois replied. “But it was no sacrifice on my part. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about the interactive portions of this conference, and they’ve made the whole experience much more enjoyable than I was anticipating.”

“You’re not generally a fan of teens?” Lana teased.

Lois laughed. “Just lack of experience. How has the rest of the conference been so far? I remember loving it when I was their age.”

“I think they are loving it too,” Lana replied. “So, you attended when you were in high school?”

“All four years,” Lois replied. “My school always sent a delegation. Did you write for your high school newspaper?”

“Clark didn’t mention?” Lana asked, her eyes twinkling. “We were the founding staff of the Smallville Tiger Times.”

“Oh,” Lois said, clearly surprised. “I didn’t realize you were an alum as well.”

“Lana and I grew up next door to each other,” Clark replied. “She’s the reason I stayed in Smallville after my dad recovered.”

Lois’ eyebrows shot up, and immediately he realized how that sounded and wanted to kick himself.

“Guilty,” Lana said with a laugh, shooting him a quick look that said he was an idiot. “I was about to go on maternity leave and begged him to sub for me for the rest of the year. I knew the kids would love him, but I was surprised he loved it as much as he did. It was lucky that old Mrs. Murphy finally decided to retire that summer. Otherwise I might have been out of a job.”

Clark watched Lois’ face relax as Lana explained, and tried not to think about what it meant that she cared.

“How long ago was that?” Lois asked. “Three years ago?”

“Four,” Lana corrected. “Caleb just turned four.”

“So you’ve been back home for four years now,” Lois said, turning her attention back to him.

He saw Lana’s brief smirk, and realized she had understood immediately from this exchange that their earlier conversation hadn’t been limited only to professional topics.

“Four and half,” he said. “I spent about six months running the farm full time before taking over for Lana. This is my third year teaching full time.”

“Hey, Mrs. Ross!” Travis interrupted from the other end of the table. Clark whipped his head around and gave him a sharp look.

“Uh, I mean, excuse me, ma’am,” he corrected. “Do you know what time that session on resume building is tomorrow? Is it at one or two?”

“It’s at two,” Lana replied, and the kids went back to discussing their game plan for the next day. Clark turned back to find Lois and Lana both stifling laughter.

“What?” he asked, sure he had missed something.

“Did you see his face?” Lana asked. “I thought he was going to salute.”

Clark rolled his eyes. “They’ll live up to or down to whatever standards we hold them to, Lana. If he shows up to an interview-“

“I know, I know,” she said, waving a hand at him. “It’s just funny.”

She turned to Lois conspiratorially, “He’s always been a big old Boy Scout. You should have seen him in high school. He was always trying to keep Pete and me in line.”

“He wasn’t helping you terrorize the town?” Lois asked with a laugh.

“Clark’s never terrorized anyone in his life,” Lana said. “Except maybe the single female population of our town. I swear, every woman between the ages of 16 and 60 is in love with him, and he pretends to be oblivious. I keep trying to tell him-”

“Lana,” he said, trying to keep the warning tone in his voice light but clear.

Lana waved him off, never the least bit intimidated by him. “Nowadays the women in town know better than to waste their time, and just pine away silently, but you should have seen the girls throw themselves at him when we were in high school,” Lana said to Lois.

“Lana’s exaggerating,” Clark said, trying to wrestle back control of this conversation. “She had a one-track mind in high school, so her memories of that time are clouded.”

“Did you two date in high school?” Lois asked, and he could see her assessing their dynamic.

“Ew,” Lana said immediately.

Clark couldn’t help but laugh, even if he was irritated at her for initiating this whole conversation.

“Ew to you too,” he said. He turned his attention to Lois. “Lana is the closest thing I have to a sister. I’m an only child, and Lana’s brothers are all ten or more years older than we are. Our moms are best friends and we lived next door to each other. We grew up like siblings. She’s two months older than I am, so she thinks that means she can boss me around.”

“And then I married his best friend, so now he’s doubly stuck with me,” Lana teased him. She turned her attention back to Lois. “Clark was Pete’s best man, and is the godfather to both our children. I think that earns me the right to boss him around a little bit.”

“The same Pete that you had to keep in line in high school?” Lois asked, giving him a grin that made his heart stutter.

“We met in kindergarten and have been best friends ever since,” he confirmed.

“They were the most popular boys in school,” Lana said with a laugh. “I snagged Pete just before junior prom, and then poor Clark was left to fend off the horde of girls chasing him all on his own.”

“The horde? Really, Lana?” He was dying of embarrassment and desperate to change the subject, but Lois was laughing and seemed to be enjoying the visual.

“And then he led the team to State and won us a championship, and he was a bonafide celebrity,” Lana added, and Clark rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what she was doing, and there was no way Lois would miss her intention either. He knew she meant well, but he felt pathetic watching her try to impress this incredible woman with tales of his glory days as a big fish in a tiny pond. Surely it would only highlight how unimpressive his accomplishments were contrasted with hers.

“Football?” Lois said with a playful smirk.

Clark nodded.

“Quarterback?” she guessed.

He nodded again.

“And a decade later, people still like to reminisce about your big plays?” she teased. He shrugged, seeing his life play out through her eyes and feeling the smallness of it. She was being kind, but he couldn’t imagine she felt anything other than pity or amusement. He found himself wishing suddenly for another life. One that impressed her. One that gave him a chance to see that smile again after tonight.

“You laugh, but it’s true,” Lana said. “He still holds a bunch of school records. When he agreed to take the teaching job, all anyone could talk about was how Coach Kent was going to take us to State again.”

“And then you decided to start up a newspaper instead? Was there a mutiny?” she asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

“No mutiny,” he replied quietly. “I do both.”

She looked taken aback. “You managed to build a Pacemaker-winning newspaper in three years while also coaching the football team?” she asked. Then she paused and assessed him for a minute, a suspicious grin spreading slowly across her face. “Did your team go to State this year?”

He said nothing, just raised an eyebrow, and she laughed out loud.

“They did!” she exclaimed. “Well, well. You really are something, Clark Kent.”

His heart clenched at the warmth in her smile; the twinkle in her eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lana giving him a self-congratulatory grin.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Lois watched Clark flush at her praise and felt herself warm in response.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “We lost forty-two to seven.”

“Thank god,” she said with a laugh. “I was beginning to think you were too perfect.”

“Yes, if only we’d won the game, I could apply for canonization.” He rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “You said you attended this conference all four years of high school. Did you always want to be a reporter?”

“Mmm, mostly,” she replied. “I always wanted to do something that could make a big difference. My dad was a doctor and my mom was a nurse. They were always trying to pressure me into a career in medicine. I liked the idea of helping people, but medicine just didn’t appeal to me. In middle school, I went through a brief phase where I was fascinated by politics and dreamed of being the first female President. I did some volunteer work on campaigns during the 1980 election cycle, but wasn’t impressed with all the schmoozing and glad handing that seemed to go hand in hand with campaigning. I couldn’t imagine having to court donors and make promises I had no intention of keeping.”

Clark nodded. “It’s frustrating that the distasteful parts of politics often discourages exactly the type of people our country could use in leadership positions from pursuing election.”

She wondered if he was talking about himself as well. “Did you ever consider a career in politics? It sounds like you would be a shoo-in for a local election. It’s not a big jump from there to the State House.”

He shook his head immediately. “I wouldn’t completely rule out something local if I felt like I could help in my community down the road. School Board or something like that. But I have no desire for a political career.”

“I don’t blame you. Once I got a taste of it, the shine of holding elected office started to feel tarnished. I hadn’t ever really considered reporting, but my freshman English teacher recommended I join the newspaper staff, and I joined on a whim. I had always enjoyed writing and it seemed like a good way to get to know the school. To my surprise, I loved it. By the time this conference rolled around in the spring, I was already pretty hooked. But after attending, I was obsessed. Something about being here… this atmosphere…”

“That’s exactly what I want for them,” Clark said quietly, tilting his head toward his students at the other end of the table. “I don’t care what career path they pick, I just want them to feel that passion. I want them to see the possibilities; imagine a different life. I want them to come home fired up to do something.”

She could see in his eyes the depth of his feelings for his students. Not just his affection for them, but the heavy burden he carried trying to build opportunities for them.

“Ten years ago, I sat in in the audience of the award ceremony on the final night of this conference and listened to Gene Hawkins talk about the Pulitzer he’d just won for his coverage of Indira Gandhi’s assassination, and I thought…I’m going to be up there someday.” She paused and tilted her head toward the students, mirroring his action. “Maybe ten years from now, one of them will be writing their speech.”

He reached over and placed his hand over hers, where it rested on the table between them, and squeezed gently. He withdrew it almost immediately, and she was surprised by both the shock of pleasure she felt at his touch and the sharp sense of loss when he pulled away.

Lana quietly excused herself to go to the restroom, and Lois knew she was giving them space and as much privacy as they could be afforded at a table of high school students.

She could only assume that meant her feelings were written all over her face, and she wrestled to get her emotions back under control. Yes, Clark Kent was handsome and intriguing, and his simple touch made her feel things she would rather not think about too carefully. If he lived in Metropolis, she would probably be grateful for Lana’s exit and hopeful that he was about to ask for her phone number or to take her out again, this time without an entourage.

But he didn’t live in Metropolis. He lived 1500 miles away in a different time zone and a different world. There was no future for them. She wasn’t interested in a conference fling, and she might be giving him too much credit, but she didn’t think he was either.

She could feel his eyes on her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. She could see her own longing mirrored there, along with something that looked like regret.

“After you attended that conference, there was no doubt in your mind about where you were going?” he asked, gently bringing them back into their conversation, and letting the moment pass unremarked on.

She swallowed back a sigh and nodded. “There was no deterring me. My father and I went a dozen rounds. It wasn’t pretty. But I was determined. I took every writing elective I could fit in my schedule, worked my way up to Editor in Chief, got accepted into the journalism school at Metropolis University, and landed a part time job as a research assistant at The Daily Planet. And the rest is history.”

“Well, thank goodness he wasn’t able to deter you,” Clark replied. “Imagine all the corruption you’ve exposed — all the criminals you’re responsible for unveiling — still going about their business as usual. Your father must be pretty embarrassed that he ever tried to steer you anywhere else.”

Lois wrinkled her nose, not really wanting to delve into her complicated relationship with her father. “Well, he’s stopped asking when I’m going to get a real job,” she said. “So I guess there’s that.”

Clark’s brow furrowed. She could see he was about to ask a follow up question, so she rushed ahead and turned the tables on him. “What about your parents? They must be thrilled to have you home.”

He smiled immediately with the kind of obvious affection she had never once felt toward any member of her family. “They are, though I think they feel a little guilty too. I’m really lucky. My parents always supported me and my ambitions. They never pressured me to stay home and take over the farm someday. They always said it was their home, their life, and that I had my own life to lead. When I got recruited by Midwest, I almost turned it down so I could go to Wichita State and live at home and commute. That way I could help out around the farm and save some money. They wouldn’t hear of it. They were so proud and bragged about it to anyone who would listen. They insisted they’d saved enough for me to go without it being a burden to them. Luckily, between football scholarships and academic scholarships, I managed to cover all my expenses. So that wasn’t an issue. And in time, I was so thankful they’d pushed me to go away to school and not stay home. They both grew up in Smallville, and they love it there, but I think my mom sometimes wonders….”

She nodded, understanding even more now why it was so important to him to give that push to his students, especially those who might not get it at home. “Did you start traveling as soon as you graduated from college?”

“Yeah, I started traveling right after high school actually. Just in the summers for a couple weeks at a time. I couldn’t be gone for long stretches because I had to work and help on the farm. But as soon as I got a taste of it, I wanted more. When I graduated, I really wanted to take a year and immerse myself in travel. My dad was a little skeptical. He wanted me to start applying for jobs while my degree was fresh. But my mom convinced him that a year of experiencing the world would help me find a better job in the long run. When the year came and went, I expected them to start pressuring me to come home and get a job, but they never did.”

“Do you think you’d still be traveling if your dad hadn’t had his heart attack?” she asked.

He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Probably not. I loved it, but I was basically living as a nomad, staying in hostels and bartering odd jobs and farm work for rented rooms. It was an incredible learning experience, but I’m almost thirty. I can’t imagine still doing it now. I think I would have traveled for another year or two, and then started applying for full time jobs. Maybe I’d have found a reporting job that stationed me abroad or required travel…but put me up in a hotel when I was out of town.”

“Going soft in your old age?” she joked, and he laughed.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’ve grown used to all the finer things in life,” he said, eyes twinkling. She tried to imagine him in a tux at one of the fancy balls she covered for work, and was surprised to find it just as easy as imagining him tossing bales of hay from the back of a wagon.

“Do you still live on the farm?” she asked, trying to shake off the distracting image of him in a tux.

He looked surprised. “No, I haven’t for years. As soon as my dad was back at full speed, and I accepted the offer to teach full time, I found a place of my own in town. I rented for a year and then my landlord decided to sell, so I bought it from him.”

“From nomad to homeowner. That’s quite a transition,” she said as Lana reappeared and slid into her seat.

“It just sort of fell into my lap,” he said. “It’s bigger than I need just for me, but I’d made a bunch of repairs while I rented, so I was a bit attached to it. When the owner decided to sell, it didn’t make sense to move and start over. So I bought it and finished the renovations.”

“Was it in need of a lot of work when you moved in?”

He nodded and grimaced. “It had been unoccupied for a few years. It needed a little updating.”

Lana scoffed and Lois turned her questioning gaze on the other woman.

“A little updating,” she parroted, and Lois could hear the air quotes. “It’s a turn of the century craftsman that no one had lived in for a decade. He restored the whole thing himself.”

She turned her attention back to him, eyebrows raised. He shrugged, but didn’t deny it. She thought back over the past few men that she had dated, and tried and failed to imagine any of them buying and fixing up a home with their own hands. The thought was laughable. And if they had done even a fraction of that work, they would have regaled her with every detail, expecting her to swoon over their accomplishments. And yet, here was Clark Kent, just shrugging it off.

The conversation turned to real estate for a few minutes, and then drifted back to the conference and the speakers scheduled for the next morning. Soon the waiter was clearing the table, and they were settling the bill. The waiter brought split checks for everyone and she saw Clark dart a glance at the small leather folio that held her bill. She slid her credit card into the pocket before he could offer to pay. This wasn’t a date, and they both needed to stay clear on that.

On the sidewalk, outside the restaurant, the students raced ahead, freed from the confines of the restaurant.

“Hey, hey! Wait up. You don’t know where you’re going,” Lana called, striding quickly to catch up with them.

Clark turned and gave her a smile that said he knew as well as she did that the kids were capable of leading them the three blocks back to the hotel.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Subtlety has never been Lana’s strong suit.

She laughed and tried not to feel like she was back in high school herself. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Thank you for coming out with us tonight. The kids aren’t the only ones who are going to remember this night for a long time.”

Her heart clenched at his admission, and for a moment she wanted desperately to believe there was a future here. “I had a really nice time,” she said finally.

They walked in silence for a minute, neither of them sure how to end this strange night.

“You ready for your big speech tomorrow?” he asked.

She thought for a moment about the speech she had prepared about the importance of journalism and the need for young writers to rise up and spread knowledge and information to the public. The need for fresh voices to hold leaders accountable; to shine a light in the shadows. She looked ahead of them, where Clark’s students jostled each other and pointed like the wide-eyed tourists they were.

“It could stand a few tweaks, but yeah, I’ll be ready,” she said finally.

“You want to practice it on me?” he asked jokingly. “I’ll be happy to tell you all the parts teenagers will make fun of.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Tempting, but no. You can wait and hear it with everyone else tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a grin.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Lois said, gesturing to his students. The hotel loomed in front of them now, and they made their way up the palm tree lined sidewalk toward the entrance to the lobby. “How long are you staying? Will they get to do some sightseeing?”

“Oh yeah. We aren’t leaving until Sunday afternoon. They’ll have all weekend to explore the city and hit the beach. How long are you staying?”

It was a simple question, and she tried to convince herself that he was just asking to be polite, but her heart knew better.

“I’m leaving right after the dinner tomorrow. I’ve got a red eye back to Metropolis.”

He nodded quietly.

“I should have extended my trip through the weekend,” she said, infusing her voice with a note of lightness that she didn’t feel. “I’m going to be kicking myself when I’m back in the freezing slush knowing I could be laying on the beach.”

He was quiet for a minute, and she wanted desperately for him to ask her to change her flight, even though she knew that was completely ridiculous.

“I don’t think any of them have seen the ocean before,” he said finally. “So when we were planning the trip that was their top priority.”

She was quiet for a moment. “They’re really lucky to have you,” she said finally, her voice quiet and sincere. “You’re going to be that teacher they talk about all their lives. The one that made the biggest impact on them.”

They had reached the lobby now, and the automatic doors slid open to greet them.

“Thank you,” he said, and she had a feeling he wasn’t just thanking her for the compliment, but for this whole evening.

They crossed the lobby and came to a stop near the rest of their group where they clustered near the elevators.

Lana stepped away from the students, joining them. “Look,” she said, directing her comment to Clark but speaking for Lois’ benefit as well. “I’m old and boring and very excited about my hotel bed. But it’s early, and there’s absolutely no reason we both need to be in our rooms right now. I can keep an ear out for them. Go get a drink in the lobby bar or something.”

Clark started to protest, but a sharp look from Lana quieted him. He turned to Lois and raised an eyebrow. “What do you say?” he asked quietly. “Let me buy you a drink?”

She hesitated, thinking of a million reasons to say no. She should go back to her room and work on her speech. Try to forget all about him. No good could come from spending more time with this man who made her heart race just by smiling at her.

“It’s the least I can do to thank you,” he added, and this time she could hear the twinge of longing sneak into his voice, and her heart echoed its call.

She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. He reached out and put a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. “Thank you. Give me just a minute.”

He dropped her arm and turned to face his students. He took a step toward them and got their attention, waiting until they were silent, and all eyes were on him.

“Mrs. Ross is going to take you up to your rooms. You’re expected to be in your assigned rooms all night. Remember that this trip is a privilege, and you are here representing our school. I'm not going to lecture you about appropriate behavior. You know what’s expected, and I trust you. Do not make me regret that trust. I’m not going to give a time for lights out, but keep in mind that sessions start at nine tomorrow, and we have a full day, concluding with the awards ceremony and Ms. Lane’s speech tomorrow night. You’ll want to be well rested.”

They nodded their heads solemnly, and she was struck by the way he commanded their respect, not by threatening or lecturing, but by calling on the relationship he had already built with them and invoking his trust in him. She could see in their faces the eagerness to please him, and she thought about his comment earlier at dinner, that they would live up to or down to whatever expectations were set for them.

The elevator door dinged, and he nodded his dismissal, before tilting his head in her direction. Instantly she was met with a chorus of thanks for having dinner with them that evening and having taken the time to talk with them. She smiled at them and thanked them in return as they climbed aboard the elevator.

When the doors had closed, Clark turned to her.

“A drink?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. They began walking toward the hotel bar, located just across the lobby, and the silence between them felt comfortable, not heavy and fraught as she would have expected.

The bar was only half full, and they had no trouble spotting a high-top table for two tucked in a quiet corner. As they wound their way through the room to the table, his hand rested lightly on the small of her back, guiding her around tables and untucked chairs. It was the kind of familiar, or even possessive, touch that normally would have made her uncomfortable or wary, but she felt none of that with him. When they reached the table, he removed his hand from her back to pull out her chair, and she felt a pang of loss.

A waiter was at their table almost immediately, and Clark gestured for her to go first. She ordered a glass of red wine, and then was surprised when he ordered a Coke. She was immediately self conscious, wondering if she should have also stuck with a non-alcoholic beverage, but that feeling was quickly replaced by a wariness over the reason for his choice. Perhaps she hadn’t been far off the mark earlier when she had jokingly warned herself that he could be a drunk. Maybe he was in recovery. She thought briefly about her mother’s latest stint in rehab and cringed. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all. She feared suddenly that his world travels had been missionary in nature, and she was about to be subjected to his proselytizing.

He must have registered her wariness, because a grin spread across his handsome face. “I’m working,” he said. “I know they’re upstairs, but I’m responsible for them.”

She thought about Lana calling him a Boy Scout earlier, and then realized it was more than that. He had a deep sense of responsibility for everyone around him. She saw it in the way he worried about the future of his students; in the automatic, unquestioning way he had said he had to come home when his father couldn’t run the farm; even in his lifelong friendship with the girl next door and a boy he met in kindergarten.

She couldn’t fathom that kind of personal loyalty. She barely spoke to her parents. She had lost all contact with her college roommates. She would be hard pressed even to recall the name of a kindergarten classmate.

He was so different from any man she knew. So different from her own father who had all but abandoned their family. So different from the men she had slept with she was younger, only to discover their ulterior motives in the light of day. So different even from Dan, who had been kind and fun, but a perpetual Peter Pan of a man. She looked across the table at Clark in his soft blue cotton dress shirt waiting quietly for her response, and he seemed an entirely different breed of a man than one who dressed in loud Hawaiian shirts and had a sarcastic quip for every situation.

Her eyes traveled from his shirt to the golden skin bared by his rolled up sleeves, and she wondered for a moment how someone who treated his family and friends and students with such gentle respect would treat a lover. And then she firmly pushed that thought away.

“If you weren’t on duty,” she said finally, “what would you be drinking?”

He smiled. “If you like wine, you should see my collection. When I started traveling, I’d never had anything besides Boone’s Farm, and I was sure I was a beer man.”

She laughed, imagining him around a bonfire after a football game with Boone’s Farm in a paper cup. He nodded, and she knew he knew exactly what she was picturing and was acknowledging its accuracy.

“But then I spent a summer in the Mediterranean, working my way across the region doing odd jobs on vineyards and being paid in room and board.”

She took a sip of wine and nodded for him to continue, letting him paint her a picture so rich with details she could almost close her eyes and imagine she was there too.

Chapter Text

“Oh no! You did not!” she exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth in horror.

“Oh, I absolutely did,” he insisted.

They had been discussing his travels for hours. One drink had turned into two, and then a half hour ago he had ordered a plate of cheese fries from the bar menu, and they picked at them half heartedly as they talked.

He hadn’t meant for stories of his travels to dominate their conversation. It had started innocently enough with the story of how he had fallen in love with good wine, but then one question had led to another, until now here he was admitting to insulting the chief of a small village in Ghana by refusing what Clark thought was an arranged marriage with his youngest daughter but turned out to be just a dinner invitation. In a community where hospitality and the sharing of food were considered a matter of honor, it had been a grievous insult.

“In my defense,” he said, hands in the air, “I had only been learning the language for a few weeks and the words for ‘marriage’ and ‘evening meal’ were only one sound apart. Once I realized my error, I tried to explain, but that only made things worse.”

“Because how dare you assume you were worthy of his daughter’s hand in marriage?” she asked.

“Yes! And not just worthy of her hand, but too good for it! How dare I assume I could do better than her and reject the offer – she was the daughter of the chief.”

She dropped her face into her hands and laughed harder, shaking her head. Finally, she pulled her hands from her face and looked at him. “What did you do?”

“What do you think I did? I got the hell out of there. I made my way back to Accra as fast as I could and never looked back. And trust me, on subsequent trips to the region, I gave that village a wide berth.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it out alive,” she joked when they had stopped laughing. “Despite your near-fatal error, you must have picked up a good bit of the language in just a few weeks. How many languages do you speak?”

He grinned awkwardly. “I don’t keep count, but… a lot,” he admitted. “I’m only really fluent in a handful, but I can carry on a decent conversation in a couple dozen. And I like to say that I can order dinner in 347 languages – it’s a joke, but if you count regional dialects and small tribal languages, it’s probably not far off. Clearly my ability to retain foreign vocabulary is food motivated.”

“That’s incredible. I took six years of French classes and would be lucky to order dinner.”

“It’s amazing how fast you can learn a language when you are fully immersed and highly motivated. Most of mine sort of fade with time, but if I return to a region where it’s spoken it comes back quickly.”

Before she could respond, a voice from behind him called her name, and her gaze went over his shoulder.

“Tom, Valerie, hi,” she said warmly.

They approached the table, and Clark saw a middle aged man and woman in business suits.

“Clark, this is Tom Watts and Valerie Jenkins. They’re on the conference committee.” He stood and shook their hands, while Lois continued. “This is Clark Kent. He’s here with his students. They won a Pacemaker.”

“That’s wonderful,” Valerie said. “It’s so nice when the winning teams are able to send a delegation.”

“How was your class, Lois?” Tom asked. “I’ve been eager for a report since this is our first time offering the master class.”

Clark braced himself for Lois to make an apology and end their evening. She obviously had more important things to do than sit around discussing his travels. He had dominated enough of her time.

“It was wonderful,” she said. “I’m looking forward to giving you a full report. In the meantime, maybe we can discuss it tomorrow at the presenter’s dinner before the ceremony.”

“That sounds great,” he said. He glanced toward the entrance and lifted a hand in greeting. “We’re meeting a few other presenters and committee members for drinks. You should come join us.”

“Maybe in a bit,” she said politely, and they said their goodbyes and walked off to meet the rest of their group.

“It’s fine if you want to go join them,” he said when she turned her attention back to him. “I know you-“

She laid a hand on top of his, stopping his words in their tracks, and shook her head.

“So,” she said, removing her hand from his and reaching for her wine glass. “Do you still travel regularly?”

He smiled at her, his heart tight in his chest.

“That’s one of the perks of a teaching schedule,” he replied. “I can take a month to travel each summer. Our school year ends mid-June and I have to start football practices at the beginning of August. But that still leaves me six weeks to play with.”

“Where did you go last summer?”

“India and Pakistan,” he told her, prompting another long discussion of the region and the highlights of his trip.

“Have you already made your plans for this summer,” she asked when the conversation wound down.

He nodded. “I’m planning to island hop in southeast Asia. I want to visit some friends in Borneo and then just wander around the islands.”

“That sounds incredible. No plan? No agenda?”

He shook his head. “I usually have a rough outline of where I want to spend my time. But I’ve discovered that the less I plan, the more incredible things I see. It’s best to just follow the opportunities that present themselves.”

He left out the part about not being at the mercy of public transportation schedules. His ability to arrive and depart under his own power gave him a flexibility other travelers couldn’t duplicate.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?” she asked, her confusion clear.

He smiled. “Yes, you. You obviously love the idea of traveling. But you said you haven’t traveled except for work since college. Why not? You must get a decent amount of vacation time.”

She paused, and he could see her mulling her words. “I’m married to my job,” she said finally. “I never take any vacation time. I think half of it rolls over every year, but I’m honestly not sure. I have no idea how much I have accumulated. I felt lost just leaving the newsroom for two days for this conference. I’m not scheduled to be back to work until Monday, but I’ll probably check in this weekend after I get settled at home.”

“What would happen if you just…didn’t?” he asked. “If you took off for a week or two and didn’t check in.”

“Before or after my editor died of shock?” she teased. “I don’t know, honestly. If you asked me that a year ago, I’d probably have told you the world would fall apart. Or that I’d lose my edge. You’re only as good as your next story. Now…I don’t know. I love my job. I love the excitement of the newsroom. I love the thrill of chasing a lead. I love the satisfaction of knowing I made a difference in my community. I love challenging myself and honing my skills as a writer.”

“But?” he asked quietly.

She was quiet for a minute, and he watched her contemplate her answer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so comfortable with someone. Lana liked to joke that he never met a stranger, and it was true that he was friendly with everyone he met. But those conversations always stayed on the surface, and he was a master of turning discussions back on people so they talked about themselves and didn’t ask too many questions about him. Tonight, with Lois, he found himself telling stories he had completely forgotten, digging deep into his memories. And he turned the conversation back on her not as a defense mechanism, but because he so desperately wanted to know her better.

“Last year, I was completely obsessed with bringing Lex Luthor down. I knew he caused the heat wave, but I couldn’t prove it, and I was furious. Once I knew that, I started digging and couldn’t stop. The more I found, the more there was to find. It was a rabbit hole of corruption and filth. I couldn’t think about anything else. Mostly because I knew he was responsible for countless deaths, and I was desperate to expose him before he could hurt anyone else. But also…”

She hesitated, and he wondered if she was as unused to sharing her own stories as he was. He waited patiently, afraid that if he prompted her, she would retreat.

“Also I wanted to make sure I was the one to bring him down…because I had something to prove.” She lifted her glass to him in a mock toast, and he knew that admission pained her.

“What could you possibly have to prove?” he asked. “Even before the Pulitzer, you were one of the best respected reporters in the country. I’ve been reading your work for years. In my classroom, I use your articles as examples of the gold standard.”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove myself,” she said, eyes pointed at the table where she toyed with the stem of her wine glass. Her voice was quieter now — less angry and a little sad. “I started out trying to prove myself to my father. In college I was constantly trying to prove myself to the upperclassmen and my professors. Then once I was working at The Planet, I had to prove myself to everyone in the newsroom. When I started at the paper as a research assistant, I was a twenty-year-old girl in a man’s world. When Perry promoted me to a reporter right after graduation, a lot of people were pissed. Most of them had risen through the ranks in smaller papers. They said I didn’t deserve the job. They called me his little pet.”

She looked up at him, and he could see her in his mind, that young girl trying to force a place for herself in a hostile newsroom. That environment would have chewed up and spit out most people, but she had found a way to survive and thrive.

“I was desperate to prove I belonged there, and they were just as desperate to prove I didn’t. I thought if I could land a big story or two… It was a rough couple of years. I found out who I could trust, and that was no one. I made a bunch of rules for myself: Never get personally involved with your stories, never let anyone get there first, and never sleep with anyone you work with.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes in resignation. “I’ve broken every one of my rules. I somehow manage to get personally involved with all of my-”

“You slept with someone you work with?” It was out of his mouth before he could filter it. He cringed, waiting for her to tell him it was none of his business. It absolutely wasn’t.

Instead, she laughed self-deprecatingly and nodded. “I was young and naive. I thought we were… I woke up one morning, and he was gone, along with all my notes for a big story I was working on. That should have been my first Kerth.”

She drained the last sip from her wine glass. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed a hand against her forehead.

“How old were you?” he asked quietly.

She looked up, surprised. “Twenty-one. I’d been full time at the paper for three months.”

“How old was he?” he asked, pretty sure he already had a good idea of the answer to that question.

“Mid thirties,” she said with a shrug. “He was French. He had worked in the Paris bureau for a decade before transferring to Metropolis.”

His stomach roiled; fire pumped through in his veins. He focused on keeping his breathing steady and keeping himself in his seat.

“That is…infuriating,” he said finally, his voice tight with anger. “Did he get fired?”

She laughed mirthlessly. “No, he got a Kerth and a promotion to foreign correspondent.”

He deserved a Nobel Peace Prize for not flying into a blind rage. He was not so naive that he didn’t know these things happened, but imagining them happening to her broke his heart.

“Word got around,” she continued. “Not about the story. But… you know. And I was the laughingstock of the newsroom. That’s when I made my three rules. And that’s when I stopped trying to make friends. I put my head down and focused. I didn’t date. I didn’t take vacations. I didn’t do anything but work. I won four Kerths in a row. And then I won a Pulitzer. And no one says anymore that I didn’t deserve the job.”

In the low light of the hotel bar, her eyes flashed with righteous anger, and she looked like a warrior goddess from some foreign mythology. He was in awe of her, and he could only imagine how those in her crosshairs must tremble in her presence.

He watched as the anger bled away, and for just a moment he saw the fragile vulnerability of a woman who trusted no one.

“I’m done trying to convince people I’m a good enough reporter. It doesn’t matter what I do, there are still some people who whisper that I don’t deserve it.” She paused, considering him. “You know they say I slept with Luthor.”

He did know. He had seen the tabloid headlines; heard the whispers. He had never believed them, but he had heard them.

She had spat that last sentence out with the glint of a challenge in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure if she was daring him to ask if she had or to deny that he had heard the rumor. He chose not to acknowledge it at all.

“Anyone who doubts you deserve your accolades obviously hasn’t read your work,” he said instead. “But you’re right — you’ll never convince everyone. There will always be those who try to undermine you because they are jealous. You’re one of the best writers of our generation. It can be lonely at the top.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“I’m only telling the truth,” he said. And he was. He had admired her skill for years. And now that he knew her, he only respected her more.

“Why am I telling you all this?” she muttered. “How did we even get… vacations. That’s right. My point is, I don’t have anything to prove anymore. Once I got the Pulitzer, I decided I only had to prove things to myself.”

She reached for her wine glass, then remembered it was empty and sat it back down. He looked up, eyes scanning the room for their waiter so he could order her another glass, but she held up a hand to stop him and then reached for her glass of water instead.

“I love my job,” she said when she set the glass down, and her voice was gentle again. “I’m not going to stop striving to be the best reporter I can be. But this year I’ve made an effort to try to find a little balance; go out socially a bit more. Even dated a little.”

She rolled her eyes at that last part and he laughed.

“You didn’t find a love connection?” He knew the truth from her behavior tonight and her facial expression, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear her say it, to confirm that she was still single, that her heart was still free.

She shook her head. “There was someone for a while, but…” she trailed off, waving a hand dismissively. “It always had a limited shelf life. He was a DEA agent in town on a case. When he was done, he went back to DC and we… I mean, you know how it is with long distance. It never works. I don’t have time for that.”

He nodded, hearing the finality in her voice — glad for his own selfish sake that she wasn’t pining for this DEA agent, but painfully aware she wasn’t going to pine for him either.

“Anyway, I’ve relaxed a little over the last year. Stopped picking fights with coworkers. Tried to let snide comments roll off my back. Tried to get out a bit more. I was really skeptical at first, but it’s not so bad. Maybe it wouldn’t kill me to take a vacation every now and then.”

He smiled, charmed by her conclusion to this roller coaster of a conversation. She smiled back at him, and any delusion he was still harboring that this attraction was just hero worship or some sort of vacation crush flew out the window. He was head over heels. And tomorrow she was going to go back to Metropolis and forget all about him.

He tried not to think about never seeing her again; never hearing her laugh again.

“This theoretical vacation of yours,” he said with a teasing grin. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

She closed her eyes, a playful smile on her lips. He took the opportunity to stare at her unabashed. She was so beautiful. She tilted her head, her hair sliding across her bare shoulders, exposing one side of her neck, and his mind flashed with images of kissing the soft skin there.

Her eyes opened and found his. She raised an eyebrow and smiled, and he knew he hadn’t wiped the look of desire from his face fast enough. He gave her an apologetic grin, not bothering to pretend she was seeing something that wasn’t there, and she laughed affectionately and seemed flattered rather than offended.

“An island. Somewhere warm and tropical. Somewhere that isn’t super crowded and commercialized. Something a little off the beaten path but with modern amenities. I need flushing toilets and hot showers,” she said with a laugh. “I'm not roughing it on my first real vacation in years.”

He laughed too, imagining her trying to survive some of the primitive conditions he had called home over the years.

“You know anywhere that fits that description?” she asked, and he wanted to tell her he knew just the place, that he would take her there.

He started to speak, and then stopped when he saw their waiter approaching with the bill. He looked around and realized they were the only people left in the bar aside from their waiter and the bartender wiping down tables.

He took the bill from the waiter and paid it quickly, adding a generous tip. The waiter disappeared again, and his eyes went back to Lois. “I think they’re kicking us out,” he said.

She glanced at her watch and grimaced. “It’s after midnight.”

He checked his own watch automatically, shocked to see it was so late.

“I know how to tell time,” she teased.

He looked up and laughed. “Sorry, it just didn’t feel that late. I was surprised.”

She nodded. “I know. This night flew by.”

He stood and waited as she did the same, then rested his hand on the small of her back as they maneuvered through the empty bar. He told himself he should withdraw his hand once they were back in the brightly lit lobby, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

They stood together in silence waiting for the elevator, his hand still on her back. “Let me walk you to your room?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, suddenly wary, and he shook his head. “That’s not a line,” he promised. “I just want to make sure you get to your room safely. It’s late.”

She examined his face for a minute and must have decided he was sincere. She nodded, and they rode up to the eighth floor together, and then walked halfway down the long corridor, stopping in front of her room.

She turned to face him, and his hand fell to his side. He took a deep breath, at a loss for what to say.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clark,” she said.

He nodded and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She shivered at the intimacy of the touch, and his heart clenched.

“Lois,” he said softly.

“I know,” she said. “But you live a million miles away. We live in completely different worlds. I don’t have time for…”

“I know,” he said, his chest aching. “If things were different…”

There was a long pause, where neither of them knew what to say.

“Do you think there’s some alternate universe out there where your dad never had a heart attack, and you wound up working in Metropolis?” Her question was lighthearted, but her eyes were sad.

He took a ragged breath. “You’re going to have to forgive me if I don’t try too hard to imagine that,” he said.

She nodded, then tilted her head toward the door. “I should…”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Thank you for tonight. Dinner, drinks, all of it. Just…thank you.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m looking forward to your speech tomorrow. I’ll see you then.”

She nodded, lingering, and every instinct in his body told him to kiss her. Just one kiss. But walking away was so hard already.

He reached out instead and cupped her cheek. Her silky hair brushed across the back of his hand as his thumb stroked her soft skin.

“Goodnight, Lois,” he said finally.

“Goodnight, Clark.”

Then she slipped inside the room, the door clicking shut behind her. He stood there for a moment, letting his longing for her wash over him. And then he turned and walked back to the elevators.

Chapter Text

Lois surveyed herself in the mirrored walls of the elevator. She looked ready to face the overly-warm conference rooms stuffed with bodies in the Miami heat in a simple white blouse with cap sleeves and a keyhole front paired with a light gray skirt that fell a few inches above the knee. Her expertly done makeup disguised the effects of her sleepless night.

The elevator stopped two floors later and picked up a gaggle of high school students, and she grinned at their eager faces.

After last night’s dinner and drinks, she had laid awake in bed for hours, unable to fall asleep.
As she laid there replaying their conversations over and over in her head, she had decided to sleep in, ordering room service and lounging in her room during the day, since she didn’t need to emerge for her official duties until dinner time.

Instead, she had been wide awake at seven, her body so used to being up early for work that it wouldn’t cooperate with her plans. She had tried to roll over and fall back to sleep, but eventually it became clear that her efforts were pointless.

So she had dragged herself out of bed, showered and dressed, and resolved to go grab breakfast at the hotel restaurant and then sit in on a couple of the morning speeches.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened in the lobby. She turned left and made her way to the sprawling seating area for the restaurant. She passed the sign instructing her to seat herself and paused.

There were plenty of tables available, and she was just about to claim a two-top in the corner when someone called, “Ms. Lane!”

She turned and saw the blonde from Clark’s group who had been in her class yesterday.

She looked over her shoulder and spotted Clark with the rest of the group, claiming two large tables in close proximity.

“Sarah,” she said, and the girl flushed with pleasure at being recognized. “Good morning.”

Clark lifted his head and met her gaze, surprise and then pleasure flitting across his face. He nodded a greeting at her, smiling broadly.

“Do you have breakfast plans?” Sarah asked. “Would you like to join us?”

Lois hesitated for only a second before nodding. “I’d love that.”

Sarah beamed and led the way over the group with Lois in tow.

Lois gravitated immediately to Clark’s side. He smiled at her, and all the heaviness of last night’s goodbye evaporated in the morning light.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied with a grin. “I’m not stalking you, I swear.”

He laughed. “Lois, you can stalk me anytime.”

She laughed too, sliding into the chair he pulled out for her.

A waitress appeared with a stack of menus and then retreated.

“Where’s Lana?” Lois asked, surveying the tables and finding her missing.

Clark snorted. “She’ll be here. Lana’s going to be late to her own funeral.”

Sure enough, just as the waitress returned to take their order, Lana came bustling in, sliding into the empty seat across from Clark.

She didn’t even bother to hide her delighted smile when she realized Lois was seated beside him.

“Lois, so glad you could join us again,” she said before shifting her gaze to Clark and raising her eyebrows.

Clark rolled his eyes and handed her a menu. “Nice of you to join us, Lana.”

“Whatever,” she said. “I made it in time to order.”

They all put in their orders, and then Clark and Lana chatted briefly about their agenda for the day, and who should accompany which set of students to which sessions, while Lois listened quietly.

The morning session consisted of six forty-five minute speeches by leaders in the field, running concurrently in two large conference rooms. There was a fifteen minute recess in between the speeches, allowing time for the attendees to switch between the rooms, picking and choosing the sessions they attended. Lois hadn’t planned on sitting in on any of them, so she was unfamiliar with the list of speakers and topics.

She turned to Sarah, who was seated on her other side. “What are you most excited about attending today?” she asked.

Sarah’s face brightened. “Actually, I’m most excited about one of the afternoon breakout sessions: Journalism and the Glass Ceiling. Did you know women make up more than half of all journalism majors in the country, but less than a third of the journalism workforce and less than ten percent of upper management. And did you know that of the top twenty-five papers in the country, only five of them have a female editor in chief or managing editor?”

Lois looked at Sarah appraisingly, impressed with her quick and passionate recall of those statistics and charmed by her sweet earnestness. “I didn’t know those exact numbers, but they don’t surprise me,” Lois said. “That’s in line with my personal experience in the field.”

“I’m going to major in journalism and business management at the University of Kansas next year, and this is sort of my favorite soap box issue. Mr. Kent says we need systemic changes within the industry to ensure that women are being given equitable opportunities not just for entry level positions but for career advancements.”

Lois smiled at the familiar “Mr. Kent says….” refrain, though this particular quote endeared him even more to her. She turned to look at him out of the corner of her eye and found him watching her, obviously having heard at least part of the conversation.

“Is that so?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I talk a lot about equity in my classes,” he said. “And about systemic change.”

She smiled at him, and turned her attention back to Sarah, asking her a few follow up questions about her college plans.

When their food arrived, she found herself listening passively again as Clark fielded questions from his students about the various speeches and breakout sessions that day. She was so impressed with his firm but gentle leadership style; his quiet confidence.

“What are you going to attend?” he asked her quietly, once his students were settled and talking amongst themselves, and Lana had stepped over to the other table of their students to check in with them.

He held up the paper program with the list of morning speakers, and she leaned close to him, tilting her head to give it a look. She pretended to give the list careful consideration as she reveled in their closeness, inhaling his cool, clean scent.

“I didn’t come with any sort of agenda. I was just going to pop in and see if there was anything interesting going on.” She said as she looked over the list. Then she hesitated for a minute. The truth was, now that she was back in his presence, she just wanted to spend the morning with him. She leaned back and looked up at him. “Maybe I’ll just keep you company while you chaperone…if you don’t mind?”

His brow furrowed, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know…” he said. “There was this other Pulitzer winner who was supposed to drop by today. Also beautiful and charming. So, my assistant chaperone position is already filled. If you really want to though, I could see if-”

She bumped him with her shoulder, laughing, and he stopped teasing her.

“You’re so weird,” she teased and he laughed. “Works for you, though,” she conceded.

He winked at her, and her heart skipped a beat. She shifted her gaze back to her plate, her cheeks on fire. Her mind went back to last night, outside her hotel room door, to that moment where she was certain he was going to kiss her, and she desperately wanted him to despite the myriad of reasons it was a bad idea.

Lana reappeared then, glancing between them meaningfully, and Lois felt her cheeks heat again. Thankfully she was saved from having to explain by the waitress bringing checks and clearing plates.

Twenty minutes later, she was seated next to Clark near the back of Conference Room A, listening to the opening of a speech about covering political rallies and public speaking events. The speaker was one of her former college professors and she found herself transported back to her college days as his voice washed over her.

She was perched on the edge of her seat, legs crossed, leaned forward and listening intently. Beside her, Clark was sitting back in his chair, his arm resting casually along the back of her chair. She snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his broad shoulders and the lock of hair that fell on his forehead.

She forced her mind back to the lecture just in time to hear the speaker begin impressing upon his students the importance of accuracy when quoting their subjects. She huffed out a soft laugh. Clark looked at her questioningly and she scooted back in her seat and leaned in toward him. “That’s rich coming from him,” she whispered, her lips inches from his ear. “Remind me to tell you his MLK story.”

She pulled back, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly intrigued. She smiled and settled back in her seat. His arm still rested along the back of her chair, and in her new position, she could feel it pressed along her back. She was tense for a minute, expecting him to withdraw his arm. But instead, he curled his hand around her shoulder just the tiniest bit. Not enough to draw attention, but enough that she felt it. His thumb stroked her shoulder, and her heart clenched in her chest. It felt so right somehow, sitting with him like this, like they were a pair, a couple.

The rest of the session passed quickly, and as soon as people began to get up from their seats and shuffle to the exits, Clark turned his attention on her.

“Ok, give,” he said. “What happened with his coverage of Dr. King?”

She scooted forward in her seat, twisting to face him, her knees coming to rest against his thighs.

“In the sixties, he covered Dr. King extensively, traveling with him, covering all his speeches, lots of exclusives. That’s how he got famous,” she began, warming up to her subject. “So he’s with him for the March on Washington. And the day before the March, he’s given a copy of the speech for the next day, and he goes ahead and starts his article, just leaving room for crowd reaction.”

This was standard procedure, and she could see Clark nodding along, waiting for the twist.

“So he stays out late the night before, partying with a bunch of other reporters. And the next day he’s hungover and figures he doesn’t need to actually attend. He’s got his copy of the speech, and he’s seen Dr. King deliver variations of it a hundred times before.”

She saw the second he realized what was about to happen. He sat up straighter, a look of horror on his face. “But Dr. King stayed up until 4am the night before the March, rewriting his speech. The first draft didn’t contain anything about the dream.”

She nodded, smiling

“Oh my god, he really missed the “I have a dream” speech? He really submitted an article with the wrong speech?”

“They published it!” she said. “His editors had no way to know that he wasn’t really there or what was really said until after they saw everyone else’s coverage.”

“How did that not ruin his career?” Clark asked. “How is he standing up here today?”

Lois shook her head. “I have no idea. I’ve always wondered that myself. He used to tell this story as a cautionary tale about not getting lazy and relying on advance copies and press releases. But he always laughed when he told it, like it was some adorable, quirky tale. I remember clear as day sitting in his 102 class hearing this story and just being absolutely appalled while he laughed.”

Clark shook his head, obviously as baffled and horrified as she still was after all these years.

“My parents were there,” he said.

“At the March on Washington?” she said, sitting up straighter. He nodded, and she waited for him to say more, curious how a couple young farmers from rural Kansas wound up watching Dr. King deliver his I Have a Dream speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

“They were freedom riders. They marched in dozens of marches, did sit-ins at lunch counters, got sprayed with fire hoses. My dad still has a scar on his leg from a police dog.”

“Clark, that’s incredible,” she said softly. “How…”

“You would love my mom,” he said with a fond smile. “She graduated from high school in ‘58. My dad is a couple years older than she is, and by that time he was already mostly running the farm. His dad was older and not in great health. They had been dating for a few years, and he wanted to get married and start having kids. But she wasn’t having it. She wanted to go to college and live life a little.”

Lois smiled, a picture of his mother forming in her mind.

“She started taking classes at UK-Wichita, just one or two a semester. And in one of her classes her second year, she met a friend who was active in the Kansas civil rights movement. They started attending rallies together and eventually meetings with local organizers. Eventually my dad started attending as well, and then that winter, when things at the farm were quiet, they started traveling the region doing sit-ins and protests. They got married in ‘62 and did a couple of freedom ride trips that winter. The March on Washington was the next August, and they rode out on a bus with a bunch of their friends.”

“Can you imagine?” she said quietly, wishing she had been alive then to be a part of that historic time. She thought then of her own parents, who were roughly the same age as his and would never have dreamed of inconveniencing themselves – let alone endangering themselves – to protect someone else’s rights and freedoms. “Your parents must be incredible people.”

“They are,” he said immediately.

As they talked, the room around them had filled with students arriving for the next speech, and out of the corner of her eye, Lois could see the next speaker approaching the lectern. She felt a pang of resentment, wanting more than fifteen minutes to talk to him.

“This is the origin of your focus on equity and systemic change?” she asked, referring back to their brief conversation at breakfast.

He nodded and smiled. “Equity and justice and personal responsibility were the cornerstones of my childhood education. They taught me that we have an imperative to protect those who can’t protect themselves; that the rights of every man are diminished when the rights of one are threatened.”

She recognized the Kennedy quote, and realized it had been spoken that same summer that his parents had traveled to Washington. It was no wonder it had become a part of the foundation of their family philosophy. She was beginning to realize at least part of why he was so different from so many of the men in her life.

The speaker cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. She gave Clark an apologetic look, and then twisted back to face the front of the room, scooting back and leaning into his embrace. His fingers stroked her shoulder again, and she wished he would move them down a few inches so she could feel his touch against her skin. She tried to push that thought from her mind, telling herself yet again that there was no future for them. That the more she let herself feel now, the harder it was going to be to forget him.

The next two speeches came and went, and they made their way out of the conference room and into the hallway, gathering Clark’s students on the way. A minute later, they were met with Lana and her crew, and they walked together to retrieve the catered lunch boxes that were provided for conference attendees. Her presence with their group had become so routine that no one seemed to be surprised to see her joining them for lunch as well.

They clustered around a set of tables to eat, and she and Clark sat side by side, eating quietly as the kids bantered back and forth, discussing the morning sessions. She felt their time together winding to an end, and tried to soak up every moment, but time seemed to have sped up, and she could feel them hurtling toward the end of the lunch hour.

“Are you going to come with us to dinner tonight, Ms. Lane?” one of the underclassmen asked eagerly.

She smiled wistfully. “I wish I could,” she said honestly. “But I’m having dinner with the conference organizers and the other presenters before the ceremony tonight.”

“You should come to the Glass Ceiling breakout session,” Sarah said eagerly.

Lois hesitated. “I really need to go back to my room and prepare. I need to finish tweaking my speech and pack. I’m leaving right after the ceremony.”

“Ms. Lane has been more than generous with her time,” Clark said.

Lois cringed, hating the way he said that, as if spending time with him had been an act of charity. She turned and caught his eye, and saw her own complicated emotions reflected in them.

“We appreciate you spending so much time with us yesterday and today,” he said quietly.

“It was my pleasure,” she said, holding his gaze for a moment before dragging her eyes back to the students at their table.

Slowly, they began to gather up their trash and clear the table. A quick glance at her watch showed fifteen minutes until the breakout sessions began.

“I should go,” she said softly. “Let you get ready for the afternoon,”

“Let me walk you to your room?” he said quietly, and she nodded without hesitation this time.

He turned to face his students. “I’m going to walk Ms. Lane up to her room. I’ll be back before the breakout sessions start. If you haven’t made a final decision about which sessions to attend, use this time to do that.”

“Thank you for welcoming me into your group,” Lois added. “I’ll see you all at the ceremony tonight.”

They made their way to the elevators, and she was struck by how similar the journey to her room felt today, despite the fact that the hotel corridors were clogged with conference goers, the overly-loud voices of teenagers echoing around them a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the wee hours of the night.

She felt like she should say something, but there was so much she still wanted to learn about him, so much she still wanted to discuss, that it seemed pointless to try to cram anything into a two minute elevator ride. So they traveled in silence.

When they reached her door, the silence between them grew thick.

Finally Clark broke it. “I really appreciate-”

“Don’t do that,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t pretend- I’m not crazy, right. This is…”

She stumbled over her words, uncharacteristically tongue tied.

“You’re not crazy,” he said softly. “I know Kansas is a long way from Metropolis, but-”

“Clark,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. But he heard her intention loud and clear.

He nodded sadly. “I know. You’re right.”

“I’m leaving right after the ceremony,” she said. “I probably won’t get another chance to talk to your kids. Will you thank them again for me? I really was nervous about this whole thing, and they were wonderful.”

He nodded.

“And tell them I said congratulations about the Pacemaker? They have so much to be proud of. You all do.”

He nodded again, and she felt a lump form in her throat. She opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came this time.

He reached out and cupped her cheek the way he had last night, and his touch was her undoing. She felt the tears pricking her eyes.

And then he bent his head to hers and kissed her. It was over almost before it had begun, as brief and chaste as a kiss could be. But she felt more in that fleeting moment than she had ever felt during a moment of passion. He pulled back and looked at her, his thumb stroking her cheek gently, and she felt a tremendous sense of loss for something she’d never even had.

“Goodbye, Lois,” he said softly. Then he turned, and walked away.

She swallowed her tears and slid her keycard into the slot and waited for the beep.

Inside the room, she retrieved her speech notes from her shoulder bag and sat at the desk to study it. After a few minutes, she picked up her pen and began slashing through whole paragraphs and rewriting.

When she was satisfied with her changes, she packed her suitcase and then found herself at a loss for what to do next. She still had three hours before she needed to get ready to meet her group in the hotel restaurant for dinner. She considered – and quickly rejected – checking out the hotel pool and just as quickly rejected the idea of browsing the exhibit hall. She knew the only reason she was even considering that option was in hopes of running into Clark, and she reminded herself that they had already said their goodbyes.

She finally decided just to go for a walk near the hotel and do some window shopping. She bought herself a new blouse and a birthday gift for Lucy and tried valiantly not to wonder what Clark was doing while she shopped.

Dinner with the conference organizers helped to keep her mind busy, and she found herself slipping back into work mode. She barely thought of him during dinner, but once she was seated at the front of the conference room with the other presenters, she couldn’t stop herself from examining each group of students as they filtered in, looking for familiar faces.

She saw them out of the corner of her eye when they arrived, and suddenly she felt nervous about her speech. She could see the irony there – she had arrived at the conference confident in her ability to deliver her speech but nervous about interacting with the students in her class. And now here she was, wishing she could forfeit her seat at the front of the room to sit with Clark and his kids and chat with them about the sessions they had attended that afternoon.

The room filled, and quieted. The other presenters made their remarks. And then it was her turn.

She approached the lectern and looked out over the sea of young faces.

“When I was asked to give this speech tonight, I knew exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I wrote a speech weeks ago about the responsibility you have as the next generation of journalists. I wanted to tell you that this world needs reporters who will shine their lights into the darkest corners; reporters who will uncover the truths those in power don’t want us to see. It’s an exhausting job, and frequently a thankless one. But without those lights, the darkness encroaches on all of us.

“I wanted to tell you how important those lights are – how much the world is counting on you.”

She paused for a moment, her eyes sweeping the sea of young faces.

“But now that I’ve met you – now that I’ve spent time talking to some of you, and getting to know you – I’ve realized that we need to talk about something else first. I’ve realized that before you can shine your light, you have to find your light. You can’t change the world if you haven’t experienced the world.

“Right now, this time in your life, it’s a time for taking chances. Taking risks. Following your dreams. Finding your adventure.

“You are so full of potential. And whether your adventure takes you across town or across the world, I want you to be open to change. To new ideas and new dreams.

“Your life right now is an abundance of opportunities. Whatever you’ve assumed your life will look like as an adult, now is the time to let go of that assumption and build a new vision of your future. Try new things. Dream new dreams. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes.

“And know that you can always come home. But in order to come home…first you have to leave.”

Her gaze, which she had steadfastly pointed everywhere in the room except for the table from Smallville High, drifted there at last, and she found him, surrounded by his students, watching her intensely. She paused for a moment, her eyes on his, and felt her mouth quirk into a tiny, fleeting half smile. His smile in return was slower, softer, full of gratitude. He nodded to her, almost imperceptibly, and she took a breath and turned her gaze back to the students, first at his table, and then beyond, preparing to return to her original topic.

“Your job over the next few years is to find the thing that excites you, that drives you, and follow it fearlessly. And I hope, at least for some of you, that thing is journalism. Because we need you. We need the generation that follows behind us to take up the fight, to shine those lights.”

*****

Lois approached the front desk to check out and saw that the clerk was occupied with a middle aged couple obviously registering some sort of complaint. She stood back and checked her watch automatically.

Her mind spun with contradictory thoughts, half impatient to get checked out so she could grab a cab to the airport and get back to her real life and half screaming at her past self for booking a Friday night flight rather than extending her trip through the weekend or at least booking a Saturday morning flight. At the time, she had been sure two nights of being in a hotel crawling with teenagers would be more than enough and she would be ready to ditch the loud halls and crowded elevators and disturbed slumber for her peaceful apartment.

But now two days seemed like a pittance. If only she could have at least one more night.

The thought had crossed her mind to change her ticket, but the truth was that if she did, she would be right back here in another day or two. She didn’t want just one more night. One more dinner. One more evening chatting over drinks. One more day watching him with his students. She wanted…more. And more just wasn’t possible.

He lived half a country away. Long distance relationships were difficult enough for established relationships. They had only just met.

She checked her watch again and rolled her eyes at the disgruntled couple in front of her.

“Ms. Lane!” Lois looked up and saw Clark’s female students entering the lobby from the long corridor that led to the conference room and realized they must be on their way back to their room.

“Hi,” she said. “Congratulations!”

They grinned with pride, and she smiled. She had been so skeptical of this entire experience, sure that she would be unable to relate to or connect with the students, and she was surprised to find that she had become genuinely fond of Clark’s students.

“I loved your speech,” Sarah said. “It made me so excited to start school at UK next fall. It’s going to be an adventure.”

“I’m so happy to hear that,” she replied. “You’re going to do great. I’ll be keeping an eye out for you.”

The girl’s grin was so wide, Lois felt an uncharacteristic impulse to reach out and hug her. Instead, her gaze shifted over Sarah’s shoulder, and she scanned the group of students and chaperones trickling into the lobby. He wasn’t among them, and the pain of his absence was a sharp knife in her chest.

“Is Mr. Kent still in the conference room?” she asked suddenly, the words out of her mouth without planning or consideration.

They nodded, shooting each other small smiles and knowing glances. She didn’t care. She needed to see him again.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’m just going-”

“Do you want us to go get him for you?” asked Elise, the youngest of Clark’s students in attendance, a perky Freshman with a ponytail and braces. “So you don’t lose your spot in line?”

She glanced around and realized a line had formed behind her. She was torn between abandoning her spot and running down the hall herself and telling the girl to forget she had said anything and carrying on as planned.

“Please,” she said, settling for a compromise, and the girls smiled and took off down the hall.

At just that moment, the aggrieved couple in front of her seemed to reach an acceptable resolution and moved aside. She stepped up to the counter, handed over her key card, and began the checkout process.

A couple minutes later, checkout completed, she took a few steps toward the lobby doors and set her shoulder bag on top of her suitcase. She opened it and bent her head to look inside, rummaging for a business card and a pen.

His voice, when it came, was unexpected but gentle and intimate, and it sent sparks through her body. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“All my life,” she whispered to herself, too quiet for him to hear.

She looked up and met his eye, her heart leaping at the sight of him. She looked back down, jotting down a number on the back of her card. “I was… I know what I said, about you living a million miles away. It’s true. But… This has been so nice. Talking to you. And I just thought… Maybe… If you wanted…we could keep talking.” She took a step closer to him and placed the card in his outstretched hand, her eyes averted, unable to meet his. “That’s my home number, on the back. If you wanted… I mean… you know.”

She looked up and saw Clark's face lit up with a mixture of joy and relief. "Lois, that would be ... I would love that. Thank you."

She smiled at him for a minute, unsure what else to say as the the time for her flight ticked closer and closer. Finally she tilted her head toward the door. “I should get a cab. And you need to get back to your kids.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you,” he said.

“Good.” She smiled at him one more time, letting out a little laugh. Because she really hoped he would.

Chapter Text

Clark had just finished changing into soft cotton shorts and a sleeveless shirt when he heard the knock on his hotel room door. He slid his glasses down to x-ray, but it was just a formality. He knew exactly who was on the other side. He considered ignoring the knock and seeing if he could get away with pretending to be in the shower.

“I know you’re in there! Open up!”

He sighed and crossed the room, opening the door.

Lana pushed past him into the room, excitement radiating off of her. “Finally! I’ve been dying to get you alone. Spill!”

“Lana,” he said, infusing his voice with all the annoyance he could muster. “Come on in.”

“Oh, cut the crap. You know you want to tell me. Please, please, please tell me she gave you her number. And what happened last night? I about had a heart attack when I got to breakfast this morning and she was there! Did you-”

“No!” he said immediately, cutting her off before she could finish that thought. “Not that it’s any of your business. But no.”

“Are you sure? Because you seemed awfully cozy at breakfast, and I heard-”

“Yes, I’m sure! What kind of question- Wait, what? What did you hear?” he asked, horrified.

“I heard some of the kids talking – they are all pulling for you two big time, by the way – and I heard you had your arm around her all morning during the speeches.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, a cheshire cat grin on her face.

He sighed again. He knew the kids had been talking – their whispers and excited glances would have been impossible to miss even without superpowers. And he should have realized that piece of gossip would make its way to Lana in record time.

Sitting beside Lois in the conference room today had been a heady experience. Not the quiet intimacy of the bar the night before, when he had longed to taste the wine on her lips, to run a finger down the curve of her neck. But a gentle familiarity that made him long for a life with her, his arm around her shoulders as they shared old memories and made new ones of their own.

“We had a few drinks last night. I walked her to her room and said goodnight. That’s it. Nothing happened,” he told Lana.

It was both the absolute truth and a bald faced lie. Nothing and everything.

On the surface, it was nothing more than a couple of drinks and a chaste goodnight. But he knew it was a night he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

She waited, eyebrows raised. He tried to wait her out, but he knew how tenacious she could be, and he didn’t want to do this all night.

“I kissed her goodbye after lunch,” he admitted finally. “And she gave me her number when I saw her in the lobby after the ceremony.”

“Halle-freaking-lujah!”

“Relax, Lana. She made it perfectly clear that she’s not open to a long-distance relationship; that she doesn’t have time for that. I’m honestly not even sure why she gave me her phone number at the last minute.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t know why she gave you her number? Really? REALLY?”

He sighed. “I think she just wants to stay in contact as friends. She said she enjoyed talking and maybe we could talk some more.”

“I swear to god, you are the most dense man I’ve ever met, and that’s really saying something. She doesn’t just want to talk to you, she wants to TALK.”

He knew what Lana was insinuating, but he refused to let his heart believe it. The attraction between them had been obvious and mutual. And it was clear from her reaction both when he kissed her goodbye and when she had changed her mind at the last minute and given him her contact information, that if their situations were different she would be open to exploring a relationship. But their situation wasn’t different.

“She lives halfway across the country,” he pointed out. “She’s married to her job. We barely know each other. It’s not like we can really start dating long distance.” He was acutely aware of the fact that he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“Right, because no one in the history of the world has had a successful long distance relationship.” She sat cross legged on his bed and picked at her nail polish for a second before popping back up, too excited to sit.

When he didn’t say anything, she went on. “You like her. Don’t try to deny it. I’ve never seen you like this. Never.”

“I’m not denying anything. Of course I like her. She’s gorgeous and brilliant and successful and interesting and funny and sweet. What is there not to like? Of course I like her,” he repeated.

“So what is your problem?” she asked. “Why aren’t you as excited as I am? She obviously likes you too or she wouldn’t have given you her phone number.”

He was quiet for a minute, thinking about the feel of her knees against his thigh during the speeches that morning; the way her fingers twirled around the stem of the wine glass as they talked the night before; the shine of tears in her eyes when he kissed her goodbye.

“I don’t know, Lana. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lana sat back on the edge of his bed, calmer now. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just being realistic. Yes, there was an obvious chemistry. It wasn’t just physical. We talked for hours last night. It was…incredible. But she’s going to get home to her fancy, exciting life, and she’s going to forget all about me. Pulitzer prize winning reporters from Metropolis don’t fall in love with high school English teachers from Kansas.”

Lana shook her head. “I don’t know, Clark. I saw the way she looked at you at lunch today. It didn’t look like she was in any danger of forgetting you anytime soon.”

“I hope you’re right, Lana,” he said finally.

****

Clark rolled his head to the side and cracked an eye open. Lana was seated a few feet away in a folding beach chair in the shade of a giant umbrella rubbing a fresh coat of sunscreen on her arms.

She noticed him watching her and glared at him. “It’s not fair. You just lay there getting more golden, and I’ll probably still be red as a lobster tomorrow.”

He didn’t bother replying to her timeless lament, and rolled his head back to face the sun. The warm rays beat down on him, and he took a deep breath and soaked them in.

All his life, he had loved the sun. He felt stronger, healthier, more alive when he spent time outdoors, especially in the summer. He had always assumed everyone felt this way, and when he heard the term Seasonal Affective Disorder for the first time in early adulthood, he understood it immediately. Even though the short winter days didn’t affect him that way, he immediately empathized with those who suffered from the syndrome. It seemed so obvious to him that sunlight was linked to health and wellness.

It wasn’t until last year that he learned the yellow rays of the Earth’s sun were actually responsible for his powers, for his strength and invulnerability.

The previous fall, at the start of his second year teaching full time, a group of people from the government had appeared in Smallville, poking around and taking soil and water samples. Their leader, a weasley man Clark immediately distrusted, claimed to be with the EPA, looking for groundwater contamination.

But the whole thing had seemed suspicious given that he appeared just weeks after their neighbor, Wayne Irig, had sent off a sample of a rock unearthed by a storm-fallen tree on his property. Especially once Clark’s father showed him the rock, and it made him feel weak and dizzy.

So Clark had done some investigating of his own and learned that Jason Trask was actually the leader of a shady group called Bureau 39, charged with investigating reports of UFOs and evidence of extraterrestrial life. Trask had hit a wall in Smallville, and eventually he gave up and left, taking his fake EPA cleanup with him.

But Clark wasn’t finished with him. A little more investigating had unearthed the location of a storage facility near Metropolis where Trask kept evidence he recovered in his investigations. It was there that Clark found the ship that had brought him to earth as a baby, and a small globe that showed a map of Earth and of another planet that he had instantly and inexplicably recognized as Krypton.

He had pocketed the globe and gotten the hell out of that creepy warehouse and back to Kansas as fast as he could. He kept the globe in a small, decorative chest in his bedroom for months before it awoke from some sort of hibernation and began to display holographic messages to him from his late father, one of which explained that the Earth’s yellow sun was the source of his super-human powers.

The globe had answered many questions, but left him with so many more. He knew now where he came from and how he got to Earth and why he was sent here. But there were so many other questions about his past and his own body that he might never truly be able to answer.

A lifetime of hiding his abilities, even from people he loved and trusted like Pete and Lana, meant keeping secret these new revelations was second nature. But sometimes he wished he had someone other than his parents to talk to.

He loved them so much and never wanted them to feel as if they weren’t enough or that he longed for another family or wished to trade his childhood in for another. They supported him always and had been fascinated by the scenes projected by the globe. But he longed to express his own complicated emotions about his origins without worrying about how they would affect his listeners.

“It’s too bad Lois didn’t stay through the weekend,” Lana said, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to know she was smirking. “If she saw you in nothing but swim trunks…”

“I’m going to tell Pete you were ogling me at the beach,” he said, a hint of amusement creeping past his pretend outrage.

Lana laughed, clearly unimpressed with his mock threat.

“Why didn’t she stay through the weekend? Did she have to work?”

“She doesn’t have to be at work until Monday,” he replied. “But she’s probably in the newsroom right now. She said she was planning to check in today.”

“Seriously?” Lana asked.

“You don’t win a Pulitzer at twenty-seven by sitting home on the weekends.”

“Or by spending the weekend at the beach with a hot guy you met at a conference?” Lana asked gently.

Clark said nothing, his heart tight in his chest.

A weak cry for help interrupted before he could think of a response. He sat up quickly, sliding his glasses down his nose and scanning the length of the beach quickly, looking for the source of the cries. He didn’t see anything. His heart rate kicked up as he scanned again. The cries came again, and this time he heard the splashing of water.

“I’m going to take a walk,” he said abruptly. Lana raised an eyebrow, and he knew she assumed he was avoiding a conversation about his love life or lack thereof.

He strode away, before she could say anything else, scanning the water along the shore. He found them quickly, two little boys clinging to a half-deflated raft, so far out in the water that they would be barely visible to the human eye.

He was moving without conscious thought, running across the sand as fast as he could without looking suspicious. In his periphery, he could hear people commenting on his abruptness but he was laser focused on the little boys out near the horizon line, struggling to keep their heads above the water.

His feet splashed through the shallow water, his stride never slowing. He hurled himself forward, arms slicing through the waves as he sped toward them.

By the time he reached them, one of the boys had slid under the water, and the other’s frantic
cries threatened to wear out the last of his reserves.

Clark pulled the first boy from the water, holding him above the waves and breathing a sigh of relief when he immediately coughed and sputtered and then began to cry.

He wrapped one arm around each boy so their heads were resting on his shoulders as he floated on his back. Then he propelled himself backward to the shore.

As he swam, he could hear both boys’ heart rates even out and their lungs begin to breathe deep and steady, no longer gulping in desperate breaths, and he allowed himself to relax and slow his speed to something slightly less suspicious.

He was met by a lifeguard twenty yards from shore, and he transferred one of the boys into his arms. Assured that both boys were safe, he reached out, listening to the voices on the shore and heard the sounds of frantic crying and screaming from a woman he assumed was the boys’ mother. He pushed just a little faster, eager to end her agony.

When they reached the shallow water, he stood and lifted the little boy who had slipped below the waves into his arms, getting a good look at him for the first time. He was smaller than Clark had realized at first, probably only six or seven, with dark hair plastered to his forehead and blue eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he said softly as he carried him to shore. “You’re okay.”

The little boy didn’t respond, and Clark knew he was probably in shock. He followed the lifeguard who had met him in the water to a cluster of people who appeared to be the boys’ families as well as another lifeguard. In the distance, he could hear sirens, and he knew an ambulance was headed this way with EMTs to examine the boys.

He handed the boy to his frantic mother, and then took a step back and glanced around, hoping he could slip away without having to talk to anyone. When no one in the cluster stopped him, he turned and started to scan the beach for his towel.

“Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent!”

Clark’s heart sank. He had been so hopeful that his heroics would go unnoticed. He turned and found four of his students just off to the side of the cluster of parents and lifeguards.

“That was incredible!” Travis said, his voice awed. “You just like…took off!”

“How did you even see them?” Elise asked. “They were so far out there we couldn’t even figure out where you were going!”

“I’ve never seen anyone swim like that,” Henry said. “You were so fast!”

Clark took a deep breath, and held up his hands. The kids quieted, waiting for his response.

“It was nothing,” he said. “Really. I saw movement out there and thought it was a dolphin or something. So I was really focusing on it. That’s when I realized it was a raft and there were kids out there. I didn’t see a lifeguard nearby and didn’t want to waste time looking for one. So I just went after them myself. I think adrenaline kicked in.”

“But you were FAST,” Travis repeated.

“Good conditioning,” Clark teased his star running back. “Next time you whine about doing sprints, you’ll know I’m not asking you to do anything I don’t do myself.”

Travis grinned, and Clark felt the knot in his stomach loosen a little.

“You want to make it to State again next year, you better keep working on those sprints in the off season,” he added.

He had said the magic word – State. Instantly Travis and Henry, a graduating senior who had led the team in interceptions, were lost in their memories. He left them to reminisce and made his way back to their towels, where Lana was eyeing him, her book abandoned in her lap.

“Are they okay?” she asked worriedly, and any hope of her missing the commotion was gone.

He nodded. “I think so. I’m no expert, but they were alert and talking. I’m sure the EMT’s will give them a good look over.”

“I saw you take off, but I couldn’t tell where you were going at first. They were so far out there.”

“The lifeguard was right behind me,” Clark said, trying to deflect.

“No he wasn’t. He was nowhere near you. If you hadn’t gone out there…” He heard the catch in her voice and knew she was thinking about her own babies.

“They’re fine, Lana,” he said gently, and she smiled at him, knowing he meant both the little boys on the shore and her own children at home with their father.

He shook his head, drops of water spraying from his hair, and she shrieked and then laughed, the tension broken. He grabbed his towel and dried off, checking his watch.

“If we’re going to go to dinner in Little Havana, we should probably start wrapping things up here so we can get back to the hotel to shower and change,” he said, pulling on a shirt.

She nodded and stood, lifting a hand to shade her eyes as she scanned the beach for their students, and Clark breathed a sigh of relief. It was always such a risk using his powers in a crowded public place like this, but he couldn’t just leave those boys to drown. Even if he had been able to locate and alert a lifeguard as soon as he heard their cries for help, there was no way they would have reached them in time. There was no question he had done the right thing, but now he would live with the familiar fear in his gut until enough time had passed without comment that he was certain no one was suspicious about his abilities.

*****

Clark pulled the truck into his driveway and cut the engine, glad to finally be home. The trip itself had been wonderful, but a full day of airports and turbulence-filled flights, plus the hour drive back from Wichita and then waiting for his students’ parents to pick them up had been interminable.

He had sent Lana on home when they got to the school, knowing she was eager to get home and see her kids before they went to bed, and he had stayed alone with the kids who were waiting on rides. About half the kids had cars of their own, or had come with a friend who did, and most of the rest had parents who were waiting for them when they arrived. But the school district was large, and the last two kids lived on the opposite side of the county from the rest, so he had sat with the stragglers for thirty minutes, smiling as they reminisced about their favorite parts of the trip while they waited for their ride.

He hoisted his suitcase from the passenger seat and walked up the short path, climbed four steps, and crossed the wide covered porch that spanned the front of the house, before turning the key and entering the house.

He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him, dropping his keys on the small table just inside the door. He turned and climbed the stairs, heading straight for his bedroom. He tossed his suitcase on the bed and took a quick shower before changing into sleep shorts.

He unzipped his suitcase, and started emptying out the contents, tossing dirty clothes in the laundry hamper and putting away everything else. He pulled out the program for the award ceremony from the final night of the conference and hesitated for a second before giving in and flipping it open. Her black and white headshot smiled up at him atop a brief bio that listed her professional awards and mentioned that she had attended this conference for four years in high school. She looked beautiful in the professional photo, but it failed to capture the twinkle in her eye, her impish grin when she teased him.

He picked up his wallet and flipped it open, pulling out the business card she had pressed onto his hand at the last minute. He flipped it over and smiled at the ten digits scrawled in her looping handwriting.

He still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to give him her number. She had made it clear repeatedly that she didn’t have time for a long distance relationship, that she didn’t think they were worth the effort.

But aside from the undeniable attraction between them, they had also genuinely had a connection. They had talked for hours over dinner and drinks on Thursday and fallen into an easy, comfortable rapport Friday. She had told him that she was making an effort recently to be more social, so maybe she just wanted to continue getting to know each other as friends.

His feelings for her went well beyond friendship, but if that was all she was willing to offer, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She was brilliant and fascinating and he wanted to talk to her again.

He set the card on top of the program on his bedside table, beside the phone. It was too late to call tonight, and he didn’t want to scare her off by being overeager and calling the second he walked in the door.

Tomorrow. He would call her tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Lois kicked off her heels and stripped out of her suit, sliding into black leggings and a long sleeved black t-shirt instead. She was lacing up her running shoes when the phone rang, and she hopped toward it awkwardly while she finished tying the bow.

She snatched up the receiver as it began to ring for the third time, eager to catch Jimmy before the answering machine picked up and he assumed she was already gone for the night. She had spent the last four days digging into the Church family and their new Costmart location in Metropolis, becoming more and more convinced it was the headquarters for Intergang.

Today her investigation had centered on Bill Church, Jr. and she was becoming more convinced by the minute that it was him – and not his father – who was the mastermind. She’d had Jimmy running background research on him all afternoon while she worked her sources, and she was hoping for something interesting to dig into while she sat undercover outside the warehouse store after closing to watch for comings and goings.

“Please tell me you found something good on Junior,” she said. There was a long pause, and Lois pulled the phone from her ear and looked at it briefly before returning it to her ear. “Hello! Jimmy? What did you find?”

“Lois?” The voice was deep, and the butterflies it awaked were immediately familiar. “It’s Clark. Clark Kent.”

“Clark! Hey! Hi. Sorry. I thought you were… never mind.” She closed her eyes and cringed.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked.

“No! I mean, actually, yes. I’m about to walk out the door. I’m in the middle of… it’s a whole thing, but I need to be on a stakeout. I thought you were my coworker with the research I asked for.”

Lois glanced at the door, knowing she needed to leave soon. It was already dark and the store closed in twenty minutes. She wanted to be parked before the last of the shoppers left for the day. But his voice on the other end of the line was so warm and friendly that she found herself tempted to skip the stakeout for one night. Costmart and Intergang would be there tomorrow.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I understand-“

“I have a few minutes,” she said impulsively.

He paused for a second. “Great,” he said softly.

“You made it back to Kansas? You didn’t decide to defect and stay in Miami?” she teased.

“It was tempting,” he said with a chuckle. “I could get used to 90 degree weather in April.”

“You’re a fan of tropical weather?”

“I don’t mind the cold,” he said. “But I definitely prefer the sun.”

“Mmm, same,” she said. “I was kicking myself the whole plane ride home. I don’t know what I was thinking, booking a red eye after the ceremony. Who goes to Miami and doesn’t even spend one day at the beach?”

He laughed. “It sounds like you’ve been busy since you got back though. I tried calling earlier this week and you weren’t home.”

Her eyes went automatically to the blinking light on her answering machine.

She cringed. “Sorry, I’ve been working the stakeout every night this week.”

She waited for him to complain or lose interest, the way so many of the past men in her life had done when they realized they came second to her job.

“Don’t apologize,” he said easily. “I know you’re busy.”

“I really need to go,” she said reluctantly. She thought again about abandoning her plans for the evening. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk to him. “Can we try this again another time?”

“Sure,” he said easily. “Is there a time that would be better to call? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I have taekwondo tomorrow,” she said. “Friday?”

“I’m chaperoning a school dance,” he said. “Saturday?”

She laughed. “I’m covering a political fundraiser. This is ridiculous, Clark. I’m sorry.”

He laughed too. “There has to be a day that works for both of us.”

Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea.

“We could email?” she said. “Until we can find a time to call? I can’t talk on the phone at the office, but I can check my email. Do you have email?”

“Sure,” he said quickly. “That’s a great idea.”

“Great! My email address is on the card I gave you,” she said, thankful in that moment for the paper’s new owner, who had insisted all reporters have access to email and had printed all new business cards with those addresses.

When Franklin Stern had bought the paper the previous spring, it had been a godsend. The circulation numbers were down and there was talk of layoffs and even bankruptcy.

Perry had called in a favor and secured a private meeting with Stern. Lois didn’t know what was said in that meeting, but Stern had bought the paper, saving it from almost certain destruction.

Just a month later, her reporting had brought Luthor down. Her resulting Pulitzer – and the Public Service Pulitzer the paper received for her reporting – had gone a long way to restore The Daily Planet’s reputation, and Stern had decided to make it the crown jewel of his media empire, dumping loads of money into modernizing the operation.

“I see it here,” Clark replied. “I’ll email you.”

She hesitated for just a second. “Thanks, Clark. I’m sorry. I really have to go. But I’m glad you called. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk longer.”

“It’s okay,” he said again. “I’m glad I caught you. I’ll send you an email soon. Good luck tonight. Be careful.”

She waited for the familiar prickling at that last sentence, the frustration she felt with men who patronized or infantilized her. But it didn’t come. He wasn’t telling her what to do or coddling her. He was just being Clark.

“I will,” she said. “Good night, Clark.”

“Good night, Lois,” he said. She hung up, his goodbye lingering in her ear, the same quiet intimate tone he had used when he said goodbye after kissing her outside her hotel room last week.

***

Lois walked down the ramp into the bullpen, coffee in hand, scowl on her face. The stakeout last night had been a total bust. She had sat there for hours yet again without seeing any movement. She knew that was how stakeouts worked. The vast majority were long and boring and pointless, but you had to put in the time because you never knew which long, boring night would result in the big break. Still, four nights in a row of sitting alone in her Jeep for hours on end had left her tired, sore, and frustrated.

She took off her coat and tossed it on her guest chair, and slid into her seat.

“Late night?” Cat asked from her seat across their desks, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Lois rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it a little early for you to emerge from your lair?” she asked.

The question was snarky, but it had no bite to it. Her relationship with the gossip columnist had been acrimonious once upon a time, but they had built a grudging respect for each other last year when Lois had recruited Cat to help build her snare for Luthor, relying on her for inside information about the man’s social circle and personal dealings.

After their reluctant partnership resulted in a major breakthrough, the antipathy between them seemed to fade away. And when Lois’ Pulitzer had resulted in raises and promotions for those who had facilitated her work, Cat and Jimmy in particular, she had earned Cat’s appreciation as well as her respect. They were never going to be close friends, but they worked together peacefully and the barbs they exchanged now were done in fun. More or less.

“Incoming,” Jimmy said, dropping a thick stack of papers on her desk. “More research into the Costmart board of directors.”

“Anything exciting?” Lois asked.

Jimmy shrugged and she sighed. She braced herself for another morning of reading boring financial documents looking for a needle in a haystack.

“Oh, and I emailed you that profile you asked for,” he added. “That puff piece we did on Bill Church, Jr. when he hosted the charity auction.”

Across the desk, Cat snarled at Jimmy’s use of the term puff piece to describe the types of articles she wrote on a daily basis. Jimmy raised his hands in surrender and beat a hasty retreat.

Lois eyed the stack of financials and decided to start with the puff piece. The rest could wait until she finished her cup of coffee. She booted up her computer, listening to the familiar tones, and launched her email program.

She logged in and saw she had five new messages waiting for her since she had checked it before leaving last night. She opened her inbox and saw Jimmy’s message with the attached puff piece on top, then scanned down to see what else. The next three were messages from various listservs she monitored for story ideas. But the fifth stopped her in her tracks. She had been so focused on her stakeout that she had forgotten. She sat up straighter in her chair and darted her glance around to make sure no one was close enough to read over her shoulder, then she clicked on the message.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Hello
Date: April 26, 1995, 12:58 am

Hi Lois,

I’m so glad I caught you tonight before you went out. It sounds like you’ve been busy since you got back from Miami. I hope the stakeout went well last night, and I hope the weather isn’t as bad there as you were predicting before you left. I can only imagine the freezing slush would make a stakeout more miserable.

Not to rub it in, but you definitely should be kicking yourself for not extending your trip through the weekend. The weather was glorious. We spent most of Saturday at the beach, and my students were in heaven. And then we found the greatest little hole in the wall restaurant in Little Havana, and I had the best Ropa Vieja I’ve ever had outside of Cuba.

We arrived home to fresh snow on the ground and no one was amused. Hopefully that will be our last snow of the year.

It was a little difficult coming back to real life after being in Miami, but we’ve settled back in. My sophomores started reading Catcher in the Rye this week, and as I led our first discussion yesterday, I was thinking to myself that you probably have some strong opinions about Holden Caulfield. I’d love to know if I’m right on that front.

Also, you’ll be pleased to know that every sentence out of the mouths of my newspaper staffers now starts with “Ms. Lane says…” So you seem to have knocked me right off their pedestal. Of course, I can’t blame them. I know I’ve already said it, but I really appreciate you spending so much time with them last week. It really did mean the world to them. I don’t know if you have an official fan club, but if so, Sarah may be running for President.

I should probably wrap this up, but I’d love to hear back from you whenever you have some downtime. Exchanging emails was a great idea – I’m glad you suggested it.

Take care,
Clark

She read the message three times, soaking in his casual, friendly tone. The stress of the stakeout melted away as she imagined him on a beach in Miami, and then in front of a classroom full of his students thinking of her.

“What’s going on with you?” Cat said suspiciously. “Did you get a big tip?”

Lois closed out of the email immediately, trying to wipe whatever look Cat was seeing from her face.

“No,” she said. “Just checking out this article.”

She double clicked quickly on Jimmy’s attachment, pulling up the piece on Bill Church, Jr.

Cat rolled her eyes, and Lois wasn’t sure if that was a sign of her disbelief or a commentary of the types of things that made Lois smile. Either way, Lois ignored it and began to read the article.

She read the article all the way through twice, barely retaining any information. Thankfully it was every bit the puff piece Jimmy had described, and there was nothing of any use to her in it.

She closed out the article and found herself opening the email again. His email. She skimmed it again, smiling at his description of his students quoting her. And Catcher in the Rye. She scoffed silently. She certainly did have opinions about Holden Caulfield.

Her cursor hovered above the reply button.

“Conference room, people! Move it!” Perry bellowed from the doorway of the room where she should already be seated. Ugh. She was not looking forward to admitting she still had nothing on her article. He was going to tell her to put it on the back burner and give her some waste-of-time article to write. She sighed. Might as well get it over with.

****

She had been right about the morning meeting. As soon as she admitted she had nothing to print on her current investigation, Perry had assigned her to cover the latest in a string of fires in the warehouses down by the docks. The fires were obviously arson, but police had yet to identify a suspect and were still dancing around calling them arson officially while they waited for the report from the arson investigators.

Lois had spent all morning working sources in the police and fire department to get a couple of exclusive quotes, and then had gone down to the scene after lunch to take a look at it herself and talk to investigators working the scene.

Now she was back in the office ready to type up her story, the smell of charred wood clinging to her hair. She swung by the coffee pot on her way to her desk, wrinkling her nose at the cup of lukewarm coffee.

Back at her desk, she gave a quick look over the new stack of research waiting for her, dropped off by a research assistant while she was out at the scene of the fire with Jimmy along to take photos. Jimmy was still her primary research assistant, but since his photo of Luthor’s arrest had been printed on the front page of the Daily Planet – and then reprinted in papers worldwide – he had been spending more and more of his time taking photographs and even writing up small notices rather than acting as the office gopher.

She leafed through the thick print out that listed all the Costmart locations worldwide with a brief timeline sketch that included land purchase date, the date they broke ground on the building, and the date the store opened. She flipped through the stack, not sure exactly what she was looking for, and eventually set it aside to work on the arson story.

She slid her story in right before the six o’clock deadline and then grabbed her coat and headed for the elevators. On Thursdays she had taekwondo at seven, and if she was going to swing by her apartment and shower away the stench of smoke before her class, she needed to get moving. She was halfway home before she remembered his email. She felt a pang of regret that she had been unable to reply right away, but shook it off. She would get an early start tomorrow and reply before the morning meeting.

Chapter Text

“Read through chapter 8 this weekend and come prepared to talk about it Monday,” Clark said as he glanced at the clock over his classroom door. The second hand crept toward the twelve over a soundtrack of rustling as twenty-five students shoved folders and books into backpacks. “Be thinking about Holden as you read. Is he a reliable narrator? Do you agree with his descriptions of those around him?”

The bell rang and his students dashed for the door, eager to start their weekends.

Clark gathered up the papers he needed to grade over the weekend and stuffed them in his bag. He opened his lesson plans for the next week, intending to go over them, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. He looked up and saw Travis holding up a fistful of papers.

“Do you have a second to look this over for me?” he asked.

Clark nodded, and Travis entered the classroom, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and handed him the article he was working on for next week’s Tiger Times about standardized test scores and college admissions. Clark read through it quickly, nodding as he read.

“It’s a good start,” he said. “You’ve got all the basics covered about how the tests are scored and what the scores mean in terms of admission rates. I want to know more about how this affects our school. What kind of test prep options do we have here? What do other schools in our area offer? What about in Wichita? How heavily do colleges weigh these scores compared to GPA or extracurriculars? What are students here doing to prepare and stay competitive with other students? I see you have a couple quotes from students in the article, but they are just giving us basic information about the test that you could write without a quote. Use your quotes to tell us a story. Dig a little deeper with the students you interviewed – how are they feeling about their scores? What plans are riding on those scores?”

Travis nodded eagerly, taking the papers back and jotting down a few quick notes.

“See what you can add to it this weekend from interviewing your classmates and bring it to our meeting on Monday with a list of questions for other sources like local school systems or test prep companies, and we’ll work on how to reach those sources.”

Travis smiled widely. “Sounds good,” he said. “Thanks, Coach!”

He turned and took off into the hallway, and Clark shook his head. When he first started teaching, he had tried so hard to enforce a rule that his players only call him coach during practices, games, and official team meetings. In the classroom, he was their teacher, not their football coach, and he wanted to emphasize that he was their teacher first, coach second.

But it had been a losing battle. It wasn’t just his players that called him coach – it was all the students, and the teachers, and even members of the community. He had come to see it for the sign of respect it was. And in reality, teaching wasn’t that different from coaching. He was guiding and molding his students both on and off the field.

He went back to his lesson plans, but hadn’t gotten far when Lana poked her head in the room.

“Hey!” she said. “I’m heading out. Are you coming over early tomorrow?”

He nodded. “What time do you want me?”

“The party starts at two. You want to come over at noon and have lunch and then we’ll finish setting up? Sophie already badgered me into putting up most of the decorations last night, so there’s not a whole lot to do.”

“Perfect,” he said. “Do you want me to pick up something for lunch?”

She shook her head. “We can just have sandwiches. There’s going to be so much food at the party. The kids are probably going to be too excited to eat. It’ll be a waste.”

He nodded his agreement, and Lana ducked back out, heading home. He finished up his lesson plans quickly, without any more interruptions, and gathered his things.

He said goodbye to a few lingering teachers on his way to his truck, but the halls and the parking lot were mostly empty. The baseball team jogged by, warming up before their practice, and they huffed out a collective greeting. About half the team were also members of his football team. In a school their size, teams were constantly struggling to find enough players to fill the rosters, and there was no way for students to specialize in just one sport or activity if they wanted to field teams year round.

The school sat five miles outside town, surrounded by corn fields and cows pastures. The teachers’ lot was located on the north side of the building, facing a field of cows, grazing peacefully in the warm afternoon sun. He opened his truck door and tossed his bag in the passenger seat.

The drive home was seven minutes, eight if he caught the red light at the single intersection between the school and his house. The warmth of the spring afternoon had melted the last of the snow and brought everyone out of hibernation. He parked in his driveway and waved to his next door neighbor, an elderly woman with a wicked sense of humor, as she rocked on her porch swing.

He exited his truck just in time to say hello to Jenny Prichard, who had been Jenny Smythe back when they had been in school together, as she pushed a stroller down the sidewalk past his house. Her older boy, who was in Sophie’s kindergarten class, motored along beside her on a scooter.

“Hey, Clark!” she called.

“Hi, Coach!” her little boy called. “High five?”

Clark smiled and crouched, and the little boy dropped his scooter and came running, jumping up and smacking his hand with all the strength he could muster.

“Ow,” Clark said, shaking his hand. “You’re getting awfully strong.”

Jenny rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Where are you going?” Clark asked.

“To the library!” the little boy answered.

“And then to the square to burn off some of that energy,” Jenny muttered, making Clark laugh.

“Be a good listener for your Mama,” Clark said seriously. “And make sure you help her cross the street safely.”

The little boy stood up taller, serious about his important duties.

“I’ll hold her hand,” he said, and Clark nodded approvingly.

He scurried back to his mother’s side and Clark winked at her over his head. “See ya, Jen. Tell Charlie I said hi.”

“Will do!” she said, turning her attention back to the little boy and his scooter. “Come on, Ethan. Let’s get moving.”

Clark went inside, dropped his keys on the table, and walked through the living room and into his small home office. He dropped his bag on the floor next to his desk, his eyes going automatically to the computer.

He forced himself to turn and walk back out of the room without turning it on, and strode through the living room into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and stared blankly at the contents for a minute before giving up.

He closed the door and walked back to the office, sliding into his desk chair and booting up the computer. When he had spoken briefly to Lois on Wednesday, and she had suggested they email, he’d had a moment of panic. He had neither internet connection nor email address. Smallville was not exactly on the cutting edge of new technology, and though a few friends had been urging him to get online, he hadn’t bothered to do it yet and wasn’t entirely sure how one even went about obtaining an email address.

He was about to make a phone call enlisting help, when he remembered the stack of mail that had accumulated while he was in Florida still sitting on his kitchen counter. He was almost certain there was at least one of those trial disks for AOL that seemed to arrive almost daily at this point. Sure enough, there had been two, each boasting a thousand free minutes of internet services.

Clark had grabbed a disk, and dove headfirst into the world of email, creating an account and tapping out his first message then and there. He had spent more time editing than writing, trying to achieve just the right easy going tone that would make her feel comfortable enough to respond. And then he had waited.

He knew she wouldn’t be able to respond that night, out on her stakeout, but all day at work the next day, he had thought about his inbox, eager to check it as soon as he got home. There had been nothing waiting for him. He had checked in almost hourly after that, plugging in his phone cord and dialing up, the terrible scratchy, screeching sound making his cringe each time, just in case she was working late and would still reply. By eight, he had conceded that she wasn’t going to respond. He had forced himself to watch a documentary on TV and catch up on some grading. But his mind would not stop wandering to her, wondering if she was really going to reply or if the email suggestion had been a polite brush off.

His computer fully booted up, he plugged in the phone cord and dialed up, taking a deep breath before opening his inbox. He was so tense he nearly jumped at the automated “you’ve got mail!” notification.

He saw her name and couldn’t stop the giant grin that spread across his face. He clicked, waiting impatiently for the message to load. As soon as he saw the first line, he started laughing.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: April 27, 1995, 8:34am

I swear to god, if you tell me Holden Caulfield is your favorite character and Salinger is your literary hero, I will delete this email and never speak to you again. Catcher in the Rye is the most overrated, overread drivel ever forced upon me in high school. I cannot believe you are inflicting that horror on your students.

Holden Caulfield is an unbearable, privileged brat, and Salinger doesn’t even write him that way intentionally, as a criticism. We’re supposed to identify with this guy and find him admirable because he speaks candidly and doesn’t shy away from harsh truths? I will tell you a harsh truth: Holden is an insufferable jerk who has no idea what it’s like to have a real problem.

I should not even reply to the rest of your email until you reassure me that you are only teaching Catcher in the Rye because it is required and that you agree with me.

Deep breath. I have faith that you are more enlightened than Mrs. Whitaker, who gave me a B+ on my 10th grade English midterm for being “too strident” and “unbalanced” in my analysis of Holden Caulfield. Please tell me I’m right.

Also please tell me what else you are teaching your other classes so I can decide how horrified I need to be about the state of your syllabi.

I’m glad your students enjoyed their time at the beach over the weekend. They deserved some time to let loose and have fun. And I love that they are now quoting me to you — turnabout being fair play and all.

The weather here was just as awful as predicted, and this investigation is going nowhere, so the stakeouts were both miserable and pointless. This is going to be a long-term project, so I’ll have to work on it bit by bit when I’m not busy with other articles.

My editor pulled me off it yesterday to work on a story about a string of arsons, so I got a reprieve from stakeouts, but then I wound up reeking of smoke so badly that I had to rush home after work and shower before my taekwondo practice, so I didn’t wind up giving my classmates lung damage. My job is very glamorous. You should be jealous.

What are you doing this weekend? What sorts of things are there to do for fun in Smallville? Cow tipping? Corn mazes?

Tell me all about your exciting weekend plans. And I’m serious about the Salinger thing. I need some reassurance fast before I block your email address and run for the hills.

Lois

Clark sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. He could almost hear her voice berating him about Holden Caulfield. He would give anything to be back in Miami with her in person, but this email was the next best thing. He should have known that her personality and voice would shine through in her emails, given her obvious skill with the written language, but he had somehow expected their correspondence to be more formal and stilted. This…this was Lois Lane through and through.

He read the whole email again, leisurely this time, his heart twisting in his chest even as he couldn’t stop grinning. She was incredible.

He was dying to whip off a reply immediately, but he forced himself to wait. She had taken two days to reply to him. He didn’t want to look desperate. Besides, he needed time to get the reply just right.

He turned off the computer and went back to the kitchen, too excited now to focus on food. He needed to burn off some energy. He zipped up to his bedroom and changed into running clothes, then jogged down his front steps and followed the path to the sidewalk, taking off at a brisk run.

He waved at a few neighbors as he ran past, itching to pick up some real speed. After a mile, the houses began to spread out and after one more mile the houses turned to fields. It was early spring, the fields still empty, so they offered him no cover. But as he turned down a dirt road, jogging past the barren fields, he scanned his surroundings and was satisfied that he was alone.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, above the clouds. He barrel rolled a few times and accelerated, heading due north, intent on finding somewhere remote enough to let him get up to full speed.

****

Clark knocked on the door perfunctorily and then opened it, peeking his head inside.

“I heard a rumor there’s a birthday girl-”

“Uncle Clark!” She launched herself into his arms, a blur of blond hair and giggles.

He tossed her into the air and caught her again, delighting in her laughter.

“Sophie, your mother’s looking for you,” Pete said with a grin, entering the foyer from the living room. “She wants to know where you want the balloons.”

Sophie took off for the backyard, and Pete clapped Clark on the arm. “Thanks for coming. Lana’s about to drive me crazy. You’d think we were entertaining royalty, not our families and a handful of kids from Sophie’s kindergarten class.”

Clark laughed. Lana had always been a bit…intense when it came to hosting.

“She told me yesterday the decorations were up and there wasn’t much left to do.”

“Yeah, that’s what she told me last night. But she’s been running around like a chicken with her head cut off all morning. Cleaning. Blowing up balloons. Prepping food. I tried to help, and she yelled at me to get out of her way if I was just going to slow her down.”

They both laughed. Lana’s bark was far worse than her bite, and they knew her well enough to recognize the manic stage of her party prep cycle. Soon she would have everything under control and up to her standards, and she would be mingling with guests insisting it was all nothing and no trouble at all.

“Apparently I’m supposed to be on lunch duty,” Pete said. “She’s in the backyard if you want to brave her wrath. Good luck.”

Clark made his way out back and found Lana tying bunches of balloons to the patio furniture.

“Thank god,” she said when she saw him. “Someone competent.”

Clark rolled his eyes. Her jabs at Pete might be awkward or uncomfortable if he didn’t know for a fact that she utterly adored her husband. For twelve years, the two of them had pretended they couldn’t stand each other and only tolerated one another for the sake of their mutual best friend. Once they had finally admitted they were head over heels, old habits died hard. They still liked to get in their digs, but no one around them gave it the least bit of credence.

An hour and a half later, the last of the decorations were hung, the party snacks were in their serving dishes or warming in the oven, and the children had been sent to their rooms to change. Lana had disappeared up the stairs to change as well, and Pete and Clark sat in a comfortable silence on the couch watching ESPN.

The doorbell rang, and Clark and Pete looked at each warily.

“Clark!” Lana called from upstairs. “That’s probably your parents!”

Clark shrugged at Pete and stood from the couch. A quick glance over the top of his glasses confirmed Lana’s prediction. He walked quickly to the front door and ushered them in. His mother was carrying a large covered plate, and he realized she must have been in charge of the cake.

“Here, Mom, let me take that,” he said, lifting the plate from her hands. He carried it into the kitchen while his dad helped her out of her coat and then removed his own. They appeared beside him in the kitchen a moment later, and he hugged them both.

“I didn’t realize you were bringing the cake,” he said.

Martha shrugged. “Lana said Sophie asked for my double chocolate cake. Who can resist that request? She asked for the recipe, and I offered to make it myself. I know how busy she is.”

Clark grinned at the twinkle in her eye, knowing full well what she actually meant was that she knew how crazy Lana drove everyone when she was hosting parties.

Lana appeared just then, hugging his parents and thanking them for coming and bringing the cake. She had changed into a dress and heels, and her messy ponytail had been tamed into soft waves. Pete appeared in the kitchen doorway, and whistled at her, eliciting a blush that made him laugh. She went straight to his arms, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said with a grin.

“Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Because an hour ago you told me get my worthless butt out of your way or-” she cut him off with a hand over his mouth.

“I changed my mind,” she said with a laugh, kissing him again.

Clark rolled his eyes at them good naturedly, but the affection he generally felt for them when they were sweet with each other was joined today by an unfamiliar longing. He had resigned himself so long ago to never having what they had that he rarely allowed himself to even think about it. But now…he wanted this so badly. The easy familiarity, the sweet affection, the flirty sideways glances in public.

Lana turned then and must have caught something in his gaze, because she raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Get a room,” he teased.

“Oh, I know you are not going to lecture me about public displays of affection after last week,” she said, eyebrows raised, gauntlet thrown.

His smile disappeared. “Lana,” he said warningly, but it was too late. Every eye in the kitchen was on him. He sighed and shook his head at her.

“Oops,” she said, with a smile that said she was anything but sorry.

“Clark?” his mother asked, and the hopeful look on her face cut him to the quick. He knew how much she wanted him to have a normal life, to find someone who loved him. But it was so complicated.

“It’s nothing, Mom,” he said, shooting Lana a pleading look.

“How is Lois, Clark? Have you called her yet? You have called her, right?” Lana was loving every minute of this torture and he vowed to get his revenge eventually.

“Lois?” his mother asked.

Clark sighed. “Lois Lane,” he said. “The Pulitzer winner I told you about who was giving the speech at the award ceremony on the last night of the conference?”

His mother nodded eagerly, and a part of him wanted to give in and gush about the incredible woman he met and how much he liked her and how desperately he wanted to get to know her better.

“We wound up running into each other on Thursday and spending a little time together. She had dinner with us – all of us – on Thursday, and was very generous with her time, talking to the kids about career options and such.”

“Well, that was nice of her,” his father said, and Clark shot him a grateful look, hopeful that would be the end of the conversation.

But of course Lana couldn’t let it go. “And then she and Clark had drinks. And then she showed up at breakfast the next morning. And then he sat with his arm around her during the morning sessions on Friday.”

Clark scrubbed a hand across his eyes and massaged his temples briefly, his jaw clenched so tight he was sure it would hurt if he could feel pain. “Lana is exaggerating-”

“She was freaking gorgeous,” Lana added. “And clearly smart and successful. And I happen to know she gave him her number. So? Did you call her, or did you chicken out?”

All eyes were on him. “I called her,” he admitted finally. “She’s really busy with work right now, but we’ve been emailing-”

“Emailing?” Martha said, shocked. She had been an early adopter of the new technology, embracing the ability to reach out to old friends who had moved away. She had extolled the virtues of email to him in the past, but he had remained unconvinced. “When did you get an email address?”

Clark stuttered a non-reply, and she laughed. “I see. Well, if she was worth opening an email account for, she must be something.”

“Did I mention she was gorgeous?” Lana teased.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “We’re just friends. Barely even that. We just enjoyed talking at the conference and thought it would be nice to continue getting to know each other better. She lives in Metropolis, and she has a very busy life.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about her,” Martha said gleefully.

Clark scowled. “Lana’s blowing this all out of proportion. There’s nothing to tell. Really.”

The doorbell rang, and he heard Sophie clatter down the stairs yelling, “I’ll get it!”

They dispersed, and Clark wanted to kiss whoever had shown up early, taking the attention of him at least for the moment. But he was sure he was going to hear more about this later.

Chapter Text

The elevator doors slid open, and Lois strolled into the newsroom, eager to get to work after what felt like a long weekend away from the office.

She had spent Saturday morning at her dojo, competing in some open gym sparring exercises, and then that evening she had been roped into a small party at her neighbor’s place.

She wasn’t really sure how she had wound up becoming friends with Star, a sweet but bizarre woman who claimed to be a psychic. At first Lois had just humored her and tried to be polite when they crossed paths in the hallway, but somehow over the last few months, Star’s cheerful friendliness had worn her down, and she had come to enjoy their occasional conversations.

The party had been a hodgepodge of Star’s friends, and the conversations had wandered from astral projection to alien encounters, and Lois did her best to bite her tongue and not point out how crazy these people were. Still, everyone had been welcoming and friendly, and it wasn’t the worst way she had ever spent a Saturday night.

Sunday had been spent running errands and cleaning her apartment, and she’d had to restrain herself a few times from popping into the newsroom while she was out just to “check on things”. Because there were no things to check on. Except for her email inbox.

Her eyes went to her computer and she increased her speed a little, crossing the room quickly and dropping into her seat. She booted up the computer immediately, no longer even pretending to herself that this wasn’t her first priority.

She clicked the email icon impatiently as soon as it appeared.

“You know, no matter how many times you click it, it’s not going to open until the computer’s finished booting up,” Jimmy teased.

Lois jerked her hand away from the mouse, embarrassed at having been caught.

“You expecting something important?” he asked. “Did you finally make some progress on that Intergang investigation?”

He lingered at her desk, waiting for an answer.

“No, no,” she said. “Not expecting anything. Just looking for something to bring to the morning meeting, so I don’t get stuck covering dog shows or something.”

Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, right. Like Perry would assign you to a dog show. I heard there was another fire last night.”

Lois paused. “That’s four,” she said.

Jimmy nodded.

“Has Perry assigned it?”

“Johnson’s down there now, but you know he’s just covering this fire. Perry’s not going to give him a big piece on the string of fires.”

Lois nodded. “I’ll see if I can find anything new before the meeting. Thanks, Jimmy.”

“No problem,” he said, making no move to leave.

She was dying to open her email, but she didn’t want to open it in front of him.

“Guess who I went out with this weekend?” he said finally, grinning, and she realized now why he was lingering. He wanted to wax poetic about his newest lady love.

“The girl from the coffee shop?” she guessed.

He nodded eagerly, and launched into an endless monologue about how gorgeous she was and the finer points of their date at a hot new club this weekend. When Perry hollered for him, and Jimmy went scurrying off, it was all she could do to keep from cheering.

Immediately, she turned back to her computer, wiggling the mouse to wake up the screen and clicking on the email icon. She tried to convince herself that her excitement to check her email wasn’t specific to him, that she could have any manner of interesting correspondence waiting for her.

But the second she saw his name in her inbox, she felt herself grin, and her cursor went straight to it, bypassing every other waiting message.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Hello
Date: April 28, 1995, 7:13pm

Oh, come on. Catcher in the Rye isn’t THAT bad. It’s a modern American classic that offers unique insight into the minds of teenagers. It’s a quintessential coming of age story. And, if nothing else, it offers interesting lessons in first-person narration and unreliable narrators

Okay, okay, I confess: Holden Caulfield is one of the least sympathetic characters in modern fiction. The book is twice as long as it should be and unbearably tedious. Holden is exhausting. It’s definitely my least favorite book that I teach.

As for my other classes, the juniors and seniors are working on writing projects currently – the juniors on personal essays and the seniors on their capstone projects. But the freshmen are in the middle of The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. Have you read it? It couldn’t be more different than Catcher in the Rye, and I’m enjoying that discussion far more. I’m always amazed by how insightful my freshman students can be. They seem so young, especially at the beginning of the year, but they always wind up surprising me with their observations.

I’m sorry to disappoint, but there was neither cow tipping nor corn mazes this weekend. (Really? Corn mazes? It’s April. We haven’t even planted the corn yet.)

Honestly, there’s not much in Smallville in terms of entertainment like you are probably used to in Metropolis. We do have a few restaurants, a little cafe, and a bar, but generally people drive to Wichita if they are looking for real entertainment.

I spent most of today at Pete and Lana’s house for Sophie’s birthday party. She turns six Tuesday, but we celebrated a little early. Lana doesn’t do anything half way, so she terrorized us all with her party preparations. But Sophie had a great time, and we all had fun once the party was underway. Two of Lana’s brothers still live in town, but the oldest lives in Kansas City, and he came in with his wife and youngest daughter, so it was nice to have everyone back together.

On Sundays, I always have dinner with my folks. When I was growing up, we would often skip family meals during busy seasons on the farm. My mom would bring meals out in the field, and we would just take a break and eat out there. But on Sundays, we all sat down to dinner at the table, no matter how far behind we were on planting or harvesting. It was an unbreakable rule. So now that I’m on my own, I still try to make an effort to come for Sunday dinners.

That’s my only real plan for tomorrow. I’ll probably try to get some papers graded in the morning. Maybe go for a run. My life is also very glamorous, so I’m not at all jealous.

What did you do over the weekend? Were you working, or did you manage to get out and have some fun? How’s your long-term investigation going?

Hopefully you aren’t stuck covering anymore fires — though I have to say that I find it interesting that you made sure to shower before Taekwondo (How long have you been studying taekwondo?) in an effort to spare the lungs of your classmates, but no thought was given to the lungs of your coworkers. You aren’t concerned about their lung health? That seems rather arbitrary. Or is it intentional? Trying to kill off your coworkers? I feel like the Pulitzer committee will frown on that when considering future awards.

Tell me more about taekwondo and your secret plan to infect your coworkers with a toxic lung infection.

Seriously, I hope you had a great weekend.

Clark

Lois did her best to stifle her grin, but she knew it was a dismal failure. She wanted to read through the email again, but she could see people starting to mill around the conference room and she knew she didn’t have time.

She skimmed through the rest of her inbox, seeing nothing important, and made her way to the conference room hurriedly before the only seat left was next to Ralph.

Two hours later, Lois was at the site of the fourth fire, trying to weasel past the caution tape.

“I see you, Lane!” Inspector Henderson barked. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Help me out here, Henderson,” she replied. “Give me something.”

He eyed her with irritation, then rolled his eyes and walked over. She smirked, certain that meant he had decided he would rather give her some information and get her off his back than put up with her constant attempts to sneak into the crime scene and find her own details.

“Off the record,” he said as he approached, holding up a chunk of wood that looked like it had once been part of a pallet. She nodded her acquiescence, and he pointed to a dark streak. “See that? Accelerant. The same marks were found at the other three fires.”

Lois nodded, not surprised. “And?” she said.

Henderson huffed. “And…it’s a unique pattern. It’s not splashed like you’d expect if someone was sloshing around a can of kerosene for example. It’s almost like….”

Lois looked at the long, thick streak of black that arced across the wood and knew exactly what he was insinuating. “It’s almost like it was sprayed!”

He raised an eyebrow, neither confirming nor denying her conclusion, and walked back inside the burnt husk of a building.

Lois spent another couple hours taking notes and talking to investigators and witnesses, before heading back to the Daily Planet.

Johnson had the day’s story with basic details of the latest fire all sewn up, so she was free to spend the afternoon investigating the lead Henderson had given her rather than writing up a story. An arsonist or arsonists lighting fires with a spray accelerant brought one name to mind immediately. Lois had her phone in her hand before she was even seated, tapping out the number for the New Troy Department of Corrections.

While she waited on hold, an aggravating loop of tinny music blasting in her ear, she waved Jimmy down.

“What’s up?” he asked as he approached.

“Can you find out what happened to the Metro Club after Toni Taylor went to prison last year?”

“Toni Taylor? The babe that-” He reddened at her sharp look and cleared his throat before rephrasing. “Uh, I mean the woman that financed the Toasters? You think she’s linked to these warehouse fires?”

“I think she’s still in prison, though I’m waiting on confirmation of that,” Lois said, tapping on the receiver still propped against her ear. “But I want to know who took over once she was out of commission.”

“You think the Toasters are involved in these fires?”

Lois shook her head. The Toasters had been a gang of young, inexperienced kids. Until Toni Taylor had approached them and supplied them with their weapons and given them their marching orders, they’d been low level criminals with nothing more than petty thefts on their rap sheets. She had chosen them specifically because they were easy to control and manipulate, and Lois wasn’t interested in the arsonists themselves. It was the weapons she wanted to track.

Witnesses at the time had claimed to see all four Toasters sporting their high powered flame sprayers, but when they were arrested, they had only two of the backpacks in their possession. They had all claimed there were only two, and because eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable, most people assumed there had only ever been two, and that the witnesses were confused. Lois hadn’t been convinced at the time, and she had suspected Henderson shared her skepticism. Now she was sure of it. Whether or not those weapons were responsible for these fires remained to be seen, but it seemed pretty clear that Henderson suspected they were involved.

“I’m not interested in the Toasters,” she said. “I’m interested in their weapons. If there are two still out there, it seems likely whoever inherited the Metro club inherited them as well.”

Jimmy nodded and took off to work his magic just as the voice on the other end of the line finally returned and confirmed that Toni Taylor was still in custody and had received no visitors in the last six months.

Temporarily stalled until she got some information from Jimmy, Lois’ attention drifted back to the email icon on her computer screen. She clicked it and read through his email again, smirking at his take on Salinger’s book and then smiling affectionately as he described spending the weekend with his family, first at a six year old’s birthday party that she was sure she would find torturous, and then a weekly family dinner with his parents.

She cast a glance around and then hit the reply button.

To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hello
Date: April 30, 1995, 2:58pm

That was a close one. I was about two seconds from hitting the block button when you confessed. I am deeply relieved by your dislike of Catcher in the Rye. I will say though, that I generally love an unreliable narrator. Just not Holden Caulfield.

Yes, I’ve read The Things They Carried. I was skeptical of it because I don’t generally enjoy war stories, but the reviews convinced me to give it a try, and I’m glad I did. I love collections of short stories, especially interrelated stories like those. His writing is haunting, and his books made me reconsider a lot of my own assumptions about combat and soldiers. Have you read his new one? In the Lake of the Woods? The themes are similar, but it’s a completely different format with narrative chapters interspersed with evidence logs. It was one of the best books I read last year. If you haven’t read it, you need to. I need to hear your theory on what happened to Kathy so I can tell you how wrong you are.

More later about taekwondo and my diabolical plan to kill off my coworkers. (I am once again sitting at my desk reeking of smoke, as I just got back from the site of yet another fire.) But the research I asked for is here, so I need to get back to work.

Lois

Lois hit send just as Jimmy reached her desk, a thin stack of papers in his hand. “Here’s everything we have on the Metro Club. It’s not much.”

“Thanks,” Lois said, taking the documents from him. “Now can you get me everything you can find on the companies that own the warehouses that have been burned down? Parent companies. Board members. You know the drill. Let’s see if these attacks are linked.”

“You got it!”

Lois was deep in her research into the ownership of the warehouses, looking for a common thread that connected them, when she heard her email inbox chime. She glanced up, assuming it was Jimmy with more documents, and her heart leapt when she saw his name instead. She clicked it immediately.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:44pm

In the Lake of the Woods is a masterpiece, and everyone knows Kathy ran away and got lost and accidentally drowned.

Her jaw dropped, and she stopped herself from laughing out loud just in time.

Before she could think twice she hit the reply button.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:46pm

You are delusional! Wade killed her during a flashback and dumped her body in the lake.

She sat still for a minute, waiting, and was rewarded almost immediately with a ding.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:47pm

No way! He was deeply disturbed, and certainly capable of committing murder in a fugue state. But there’s no way he could have murdered her, disposed of the body, and cleaned up without ever resuming consciousness. Besides she was terrified of him — of course she ran.

Lois shook her head, barely containing her laughter, and began to type.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:48pm

Listen, farm boy, you seem to have forgotten it’s my actual JOB to investigate crimes and determine who’s responsible. Wade is guilty as sin.

She hit send and sat back in her chair, taking a sip of her cold coffee and wincing.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:50pm

You seem to have forgotten this is a book and not real life, and as a teacher of English literature, it’s MY job to analyze fiction.

She wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:51pm

Hello. Art imitates life. Clearly I have a better grasp on reality here.

The ding of the new email arrived almost immediately after the whoosh of her sent mail chime.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:52pm

Or maybe life imitates art? Are you still trying to murder your coworkers with your smoke stench?

She gasped and couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:54pm

Look, I will have you know that the only reason I was concerned for my taekwondo classmates, is that we are in close proximity while we spar. If anyone at work puts their face in my hair, I will use those taekwondo skills on them, and their lungs will be the least of their concern.

“What is going on over there?” Cat asked as Lois hit the send button.

“Nothing,” Lois said quickly. “Just catching up on some emails.”

Cat looked at her skeptically. “Try again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lois said haughtily, picking up the stack of documents she had abandoned on her desk.

Her inbox dinged again, and Cat paused, fingers still on her keys, eyebrow arched.

Lois pretended to ignore the ding. She darted a quick glance at the screen, her leg starting to jiggle when she saw his name.

She looked up and saw Cat watching her, and looked back at the stack of papers in front of her, flipping through without reading anything.

The computer dinged again, and her eyes went automatically to the screen.

“Hot tip from a new source,” she lied, reaching for the mouse.

Cat scoffed loudly. “Whatever. I’m not interested in your boring emails anyway.”

Lois ignored her and clicked on the emails one after the other.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:56pm

Oh sure. That’s exactly what someone plotting murder would say.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 5:58pm

PS: I would pay good money to see you lay out a coworker who sniffed your hair.

Lois didn’t even bother to hide her laughter this time, and Cat gawked at her like she had three heads.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 6:01pm

If that ever happens, I will be happy to take your money.

Have I mentioned that our resident gossip columnist’s desk is right next to mine? She can tell these emails aren’t work related and is staring at me suspiciously. I need to get back to work and stop just pretending to work while I wait for your emails.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 6:03pm

Fine. Go save the world. I have to be at a baseball game in a half hour anyway, so I should get going. I’ll send you a longer email later.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 6:04pm

Baseball? Don’t tell me you coach that team too?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 6:04pm

No, I swear. No baseball coaching. I’m just going as a spectator. Half the team is on my team too, so I like to go watch and support them when they have important games.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 6:06pm

Of course you do. Have fun. You can tell me all about it later.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Kathy
Date: April 30, 1995, 6:07pm

Count on it.

Lois rested her elbows on her desk, threading her fingers together and covering her mouth to hide her smile. She wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened, but suddenly she couldn’t wait for his next email.

Chapter Text

Clark logged out and turned off his computer, but he didn’t move from his seat. He replayed their conversation in his mind, smiling as he thought of her witty sparring; her absolute certainty that her interpretation of the book was correct.

But it was her confession about her need to get back to work that made his heart skip a beat. The idea that she was sitting at work reading his emails and composing replies – the ultimate workaholic only pretending to be working because she was as eager for his messages as he was for hers – made him want to burst with joy.

And then her final email — “You can tell me all about it later.” It was hardly a declaration of undying love, but something about the sweet, casual assumption that they would talk again soon, and not just talk but talk about mundane things like his students’ baseball game, warmed him in a way he couldn’t put into words.

The evening’s baseball game passed in a blur. And then the rest of the week ticked by uneventfully. He and Lois exchanged emails daily, discussing their favorite books amongst chitchat about their daily routines. But they hadn’t managed to time another exchange so they could go back and forth like they had on Monday, and by Friday, Clark was dreading going a whole weekend without hearing from her. It was amazing how quickly she had become a part of his daily routine.

When he returned home from work Friday, he went straight to his computer. Checking his email had become his first priority after work, and he no longer made any pretense that it wasn’t.

There were two emails from her waiting for him. The first had been sent that morning and contained a long diatribe about coworkers who drank the last of the coffee without brewing a fresh pot and a brief, vague response to his question about her weekend plans. He rolled his eyes, sure her terse reply about the weekend was a direct result of her lack of caffeine.

He was already smiling when he opened the next email.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: This weekend
Date: May 4, 1995, 5:06pm

I’m just waiting on my editor to send me back his notes on my story, so I can make my final edits, and then I’m leaving for the weekend. I won’t be in the office until Monday. So if you want to defend yourself against the accusation that your sci fi novels are just romance novels for men, you’re going to have to wait until Monday for my response. Unless you want to give me a call over the weekend so we can discuss. No pressure. I just wanted to give you the option since you seemed pretty upset about it yesterday. Your call, farm boy. I’ll be out Saturday evening, but the rest of my weekend is pretty open.

His heart leapt in his chest. Yes, yes, yes. He wanted to talk to her on the phone so badly. He glanced back over her email and felt a shot of hope as he realized it had only been sent mere minutes ago. He hit reply and typed quickly.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: This weekend
Date: May 4, 1995, 5:14 pm

Discussing this over the phone seems like a prudent move, because I have A LOT of feelings about this accusation. I’m going to be out of the house tomorrow until 4-5, but I can call when I get home unless your evening plans start early. Or I can call after dinner with my parents Sunday. I promised my dad I’d help with the planting during the day, but we’ll be done with dinner by 7, so around 8 your time. Is that too late?

He hit send and waited, hoping she was still sitting at her computer. He tapped a pencil mindlessly against the desk until the little voice told him he had mail, and he grinned triumphantly.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: This weekend
Date: May 4, 1995, 5:17pm

Let’s do Sunday. I honestly have no idea what time I’m going to go out Saturday. I want to go do a little undercover lurking at this club downtown, but I need to convince someone to go with me, or I’m going to be too obvious. I may or may not have gone undercover as a lounge singer there last year, and I may or may not be responsible for the old owner going to prison, so…if they look too closely, they are likely to recognize me, and I don’t need any drama. I just want to poke around and see who’s in charge now. Anyway, my schedule is going to be at the mercy of whoever I wrangle into going with me.

What are you doing Saturday that has you out of the house all day? Are you working with your dad all weekend?

He laughed softly at the picture that formed in his head of her as a lounge singer. And somehow he had a feeling that drama followed wherever she went. He hit reply and started typing.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: This weekend
Date: May 4, 1995, 5:20 pm

Please try not to get yourself kidnapped or otherwise incapacitated tomorrow. It would be a shame to have to miss our phone call on Sunday. I’m looking forward to it.

I’m taking Sophie to the zoo tomorrow. She’s a huge animal lover, and Wichita has an amazing zoo that’s more wild animal preserve than animals in cages. The exhibits all mimic their natural habitats, and the whole experience is really immersive. And there’s a boat tour she loves. It’s kind of our thing. I got her an annual membership for her birthday and promised her I’d take her this weekend.

He hit send and waited, but after a couple of minutes with no reply, he wondered if she had finished up and left for the day. He stood, but left his computer logged in, and wandered into the kitchen where he surveyed his options for dinner.

He had just decided that what he needed after a long week was authentic Mexican food and whatever sporting event he could find on tv, when he heard the familiar “you’ve got mail!”

He was beside his computer in a flash.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: This weekend
Date: May 4, 1995, 5:37pm

That’s really sweet. I’m sure she’ll have a great time.

My story is all finished, so I’m heading out for the day. I’ll do my best to avoid drama tomorrow night. I wouldn’t want to miss our call on Sunday.

Have fun tomorrow!

Lois

His hands hovered above the keys, aching to shoot off another reply and see if he could reel her back in for just one or two more messages. But she had said she was leaving for the day, and he didn’t want to keep her at work longer than necessary. Besides, he would actually get to hear her voice this weekend. He could be patient.

He stepped out his backdoor and slid his glasses down his nose, giving the immediate area a quick scan for neighbors lounging on their back decks or playing with kids in their backyards. As soon as he was sure he was alone, he rocketed up, and then headed south. Mexican food and a Royals game. That’s what he needed tonight.

*****

“So,” his mother said, dragging the word out as she sat the bowl of mashed potatoes on the table next to the meatloaf. “How’s Lois?”

Clark glanced at his watch. Five minutes since he’d stepped through the backdoor and into his mother’s kitchen. Five minutes it took her to bring up Lois. He was going to murder Lana.

After Sophie’s party last weekend, Martha Kent had been only too excited to get her son alone the next day and grill him about the “freaking gorgeous” woman he had his arm around the previous week. Clark had caved, so happy to just talk about her for a minute, to say her name out loud, that he confessed he did in fact have feelings for her and thought she felt at least a little of the same thing.

He was quick to point out that he didn’t think there was any realistic hope for a future between them, but Martha hadn’t let that discourage her at all. She had been so excited to hear her son talk about any woman at all, that she hadn’t pushed for too many details and had just been enthusiastic and encouraging to the point that Jonathan told her to simmer down and leave the poor boy alone.

“She’s fine,” Clark replied.

“Did you talk to her much this week?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

Clark served himself meatloaf and mashed potatoes and then allowed his mother to serve him a heaping bowl of salad. “We emailed every day,” he said. “We spent most of the week discussing books. You’ll be pleased to know she hates Salinger as much as you do.”

“I don’t understand this emailing,” Jonathan said, reaching for the gravy only for Martha to yank it out of his reach, sliding the salad toward him instead. He sighed a long-suffering sigh, and returned to the topic at hand. “It’s not like really talking. You know, in person or even over the phone. It doesn’t feel real.”

“Oh, Jonathan, don’t be ridiculous,” Martha said, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Couples have been falling in love via letters for centuries. Clark’s just lucky he doesn’t have to wait for a mailman on horseback to carry their letters back and forth.”

Jonathan huffed in response, but didn’t disagree, just changed course. “I just saw a thing on Top Copy recently about these people who create whole fake identities online and pretend to be something they’re not. You know, they say they’re an attractive 25 year old woman, or steal the identity of a 25 year old woman, but they’re really a 40 year old man in his mother’s basement bilking unsuspecting men out of their life savings.”

Clark laughed. “Dad. I met Lois in person. At a journalism conference. Not in a chat room. Besides…she’s pretty famous. If someone was going to try to steal an identity, I doubt a Pulitzer prize winning investigative reporter would be at the top of their list of easy targets.”

“Her job sounds so exciting,” Martha said, shooting Jonathan a look that clearly told him to stop talking nonsense. “It must be dangerous.”

“I’m sure it can be,” Clark said. “I know she’s been injured doing her job in the past. Last night she went to a nightclub where she went undercover last year. Her investigation led to the old owner being sent to prison, and she said she wanted to poke around and see who’s in charge now. I imagine that if whoever’s in charge recognized her, they didn’t welcome her with open arms.”

“Oh, she must be so brave,” Martha gushed as Clark tried valiantly not to imagine Lois being recognized and roughed up. He knew she could hold her own in a fight – she had detailed her taekwondo training over the course of the week, explaining that she had started training after she began working under cover because she wanted to be able to defend herself. But if the club owner was armed, as he likely was, her black belt was going to be no match for his gun.

“She is that,” Clark conceded. “I don’t know if she’s actually fearless, or if she just does a good job of hiding it, but she never backs down from anything.”

Jonathan grunted, and Martha shot him another look.

“What, Dad?” Clark asked, though he suspected he knew what was coming.

“If this woman is as tenacious as you say she is, do you really think it’s wise to be getting close to her? What if you slip up and say something-”

“Dad, I’ve made it this long without slipping up.”

“You’ve been lucky,” he said gruffly. “Lucky no one has asked the right questions. Lucky no one has wondered too hard about the things you do.”

Clark tensed, waiting for it.

“I heard about your little rescue at the beach,” he added after a pause, his voice weary.

“Oh, Jonathan,” Martha interjected. “What was he supposed to do? Leave those little boys to drown?”

“Of course not! But every version of the story I hear is more fantastic than the last. He took off after something only he could see. He ran so fast along the beach he looked like a blur. He swam so fast he was there and back before the lifeguards left the beach.”

“Dad,” Clark said, holding up his hands to stop the tidal wave of words. “You know how people exaggerate. None of that is true. Other people did see them eventually – I just noticed them first. And I met the lifeguard in the water on the way back and we each swam one boy to shore. No one who was actually there was suspicious at all. What you’re hearing now is just typical tall tales. No one is suspicious.”

“This time,” Jonathan conceded. “But what about next time? And what if this reporter girlfriend of yours-”

“She’s not my–”

“You know what I mean,” his father said, his tone firm and angry now. “You got away with it this time, just like all the other times. But one of these days-”

“All right, that’s enough,” Martha said, ever the peacemaker. “Clark is well aware of how important it is to keep his secret. He’s not going to do anything to endanger himself.”

She turned her attention to Clark. “We trust you, honey. We just get worried. Your father and I love you and want you to be safe. And not just safe, but happy. We want you to have a life.”

“So do I, Mom,” he said, and for the first time in a long time, he really meant it. Not just that he wanted to protect the life he already had, which had always been true, but that he wanted to dream of more, to imagine a life where he had someone who loved him, all of him, and allowed him to be his true self.

It was a crazy thought. He and Lois were only friends, and barely that. He wanted desperately to believe that the attraction he felt to her, the inexplicable draw to her, meant something. But his dad was right. Of all the women in the world, he had to fall for an investigative reporter? Was whatever this was between them worth the risk of becoming the subject of her next Pulitzer?

Clark shoved that thought away. He was an expert in hiding his abilities and differences. If he could keep the truth hidden from his closest friends, his college roommates, his neighbors and coworkers, certainly he could keep it hidden from a woman who lived half a country away and barely knew him.

“We made good progress on the south field today,” Clark said finally, changing the subject without finesse. The subject was closed for now, and his parents seemed to accept his desire to move on.

The rest of the evening’s conversation revolved around the farm and neighborly gossip, but Clark caught his mother studying him surreptitiously more than once. He knew she was dying to hear more about Lois and their correspondence, and he was torn between indulging her and trying to keep his own emotions in check.

He had never felt like this about anyone before, and suddenly he felt a new pang of empathy for all of the friends who had used him as a sounding board over the years to talk about their own trials and tribulations in the game of love. Where once he had wondered why they didn’t just force themselves to move on, he now understood the overwhelming compulsion to analyze and reanalyze every interaction.

He wanted desperately to gush about how funny she was, how smart, and how beautiful. He wanted to say her name over and over until everyone around him was sick of hearing it. He wanted to ask what it meant that she told him she was only pretending to work while she waited for his emails; what it meant that she suggested he call her this weekend. And what should he say when he called? Would it be awkward and forced, or would the conversation flow naturally the way it had in person; the way it had over email?

But he was a grown man, not a teenager. And she was a busy professional who had made it crystal clear that she thought long-distance relationships never worked out and weren’t worth the effort. Her last relationship had ended because of distance. There was no way she was going to leap into a new relationship with a man she barely knew who lived twice as far away as her last boyfriend.

He needed to accept that their relationship was going to be platonic, and just be grateful even for that. She was fascinating and brilliant and hilarious. And he would be lucky to be her friend, especially since it was clear to him how few people she bestowed that honor upon. Maybe someday, if he was incredibly lucky, their circumstances would change and all the stars would align, and they could explore something beyond friendship. But he couldn’t befriend her with only that goal in mind. She deserved better than that. She deserved a friend who respected her boundaries and valued their friendship as more than just a means to an end.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Martha said, as they cleared the dishes at the end of the meal. Jonathan had gone upstairs to shower and change, leaving them alone in the kitchen for the first time all evening.

“Just…a lot on my mind,” he said finally.

“You know, when I first met your father, I thought there was no future for us. He was so focused on the farm, and I wanted to get out of this little town. It didn’t seem like we wanted the same things in life.”

Clark said nothing, but listened quietly while he washed the dishes and she dried.

“I know it’s not that simple for you, Clark. It’s not just about the distance. Heck, distance has never been a problem for you. If you wanted, you could be in Metropolis before I finished drying this dish.”

He looked up and met her eye, nodding slowly. “Dad-”

“Your father’s a worrier, Clark. And I suppose that’s not a bad thing. Every family needs one person to worry. He keeps us on track. Without him…well, I don’t even like to think about where I’d be without him. But the point is, you have to take him with a grain of salt. He doesn’t like change, and he doesn’t like taking risks. Of course he’s worried about you dating or thinking about dating or whatever it is you’re doing. He knows where that can lead, and it’s all sorts of change and risk.”

“And you aren’t worried?” Clark asked.

“Oh, I always worry about my boy. But I worry about your heart more than your safety. And I think some changes are worth the risk. Is she? Is she worth the risk?”

He shifted under her gaze, averting his eyes until they fell on the dish he was washing. “I don’t know, Mom. I hope so.”

“Me too,” she said, and he didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling.

Chapter Text

Chinese takeout containers littered the coffee table, mingling with piles of wrinkled printouts. Lois surveyed the profile in her hand: the CEO of WestCorp, an import company that rented one of the burned out warehouses. Try as she might, she couldn’t find anything to link him to either of the other fires. No connection to the owners or renters, and no connection to the Churches or Toni Taylor and the Metro Club.

She set his profile in the “no” stack, and picked up another. So far she had identified a handful of loose ties between the warehouses, but nothing significant. It made sense for there to be some overlap between companies in the same industry – executives who had once worked for one company and now worked for another, parent companies that owned more than one distribution company, etc. She was looking for something more. Something obvious that linked all four fires, but so far, she had yet to find it.

In the meantime, she had also hit a wall searching for the missing weapons from the Toasters, if they in fact existed. She had spent all week digging into financials and public records to try to find out who was in charge of the Metro Club. So far, the ownership still seemed to be held by the Taylor family trust. But that didn’t help her know who was actually calling the shots.

She had convinced Cat to come with her to the club the night before, a boon since she could always be counted on to draw attention away from Lois, and because she was actually quite shrewd and an excellent observer of people. Cat had managed to chat up the bartender and get a name for the current manager, who was apparently a second cousin of Toni’s. She would have Jimmy run a search on him first thing in the morning, and see if she could find any connections.

The phone rang, shattering the silence of the room, and she looked up, startled. A glance at her watch showed it was already eight o’clock, far later than she had realized. She reached over to the end table beside her and snatched up the receiver before it could ring again.

“Hello?” she said, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Lois, hey, it’s Clark.” His voice was warm and smooth, and it sent a shiver through her.

“Hi!” she said, cringing at the excitement in her voice. She needed to get that under control.

“What are you up to? Is this a good time?” he asked, and she could hear the edge of nerves in his voice, mixed with hope.

“This is great. I could use a break. My brain is about to explode.” She settled into the corner of the couch, drawing her legs up and sitting cross legged,

He chuckled. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen. What are you working on? Something for work?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “These fires…there have been four of them now, and it seems pretty clear to me that they are linked, but I can’t figure it out. I’ve been going through a bunch of boring executive profiles and company financials looking for links between either the property owners or the companies that use the space. But so far…nothing.”

“That sounds frustrating,” he commiserated. “How did your night at the club go last night? You sound like you’re in one piece, so I’m guessing no one recognized you?”

“I made it in and out unscathed. I convinced Cat to come with me. She’s the gossip columnist who sits next me at work. She’s great for any sort of social event where I want to blend in. No one looks at me when Cat is around.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he said softly, and her cheeks flooded with heat. There was a moment of awkward silence as she fumbled for a response.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t… I mean, well, if you met Cat you would understand. She’s… a lot. Anyway, it was great because she can schmooze anyone. She charmed the bartender and got me some information about the new manager. I’ll get Jimmy to run a full background on him tomorrow.”

“Jimmy’s another coworker?”

She nodded, and then rolled her eyes at herself, realizing he couldn’t see her. “He started out as the office gopher a couple years ago, but worked his butt off on my Luthor investigation. I don’t know if you saw the photo of Luthor in handcuffs on the roof with the city skyline behind him-”

“Lois,” Clark interrupted with a laugh. “Everyone in America saw that photo. Of course I saw it.”

She laughed, charmed by his refusal to play games and pretend he hadn’t seen it. “Anyway,” she continued. “That was his shot. He’s actually doing a lot more photography these days, and even a little writing. But he’s the only person I trust to do my research, so he still works with me a good bit.”

“He’s a friend too?” Clark asked. “It sounds like you get along well.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely a friend. But maybe sort of…in a little brother way? He’s a great kid, but…he’s still a kid. He has a new girlfriend every week and every time he wants me to meet one, I wind up having to brave some sketchy dance club with throbbing music and a questionably dressed clientele. Last month he tried to convince me to go to a rave? He’s…something.”

“That’s not your scene?” Clark teased.

“God, no. I didn’t want to hang out with twenty-one-year-olds when I was twenty-one. I definitely don’t want to hang out with them now.”

Clark made a sound of agreement, and she smiled, relaxing a little into the couch. She had worried their first phone call would feel awkward or forced, but this felt just like that night in the hotel bar.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Clark asked. “You said Jimmy’s like a brother, but you’ve never mentioned any siblings.”

Lois sighed. “I have a sister. Lucy. She’s about Jimmy’s age, actually. She moved to California recently. She’s…” Lois hesitated, unsure how best to describe Lucy. From the troubled little girl who hid in her room to avoid their feuding parents, to the promiscuous teenager desperately searching for love in all the wrong places, to the flighty young woman who truly wanted to better her life but just couldn’t seem to settle down, Lucy was just, “...complicated.”

“You aren’t close?” Clark asked.

“Not everyone grew up with perfect parents in a perfect little town,” she snapped, and then immediately regretted it. There had been no judgment in his voice.

He paused, and she knew he must have been caught off guard by her overreaction.

“I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “That was un-”

“I was just asking,” he said gently.

“We were really close when we were young,” she said softly, offering him an olive branch. “Our parents were…not super involved. They worked a lot and…they had their own issues. Lucy’s five years younger than I am, so by the time I was nine or ten, it just was the two of us a lot of the time, and I had to take care of her. Our parents divorced when I was twelve and Lucy was seven, and she just…withdrew. And then later, by the time she came out of her shell, I was already gone. I moved out at seventeen. By the time Lucy was a teeager, I was in college. After college, when I got my own place, she moved in for a while. But she never stays in one place very long. She went to New York for a while, and then came back and stayed with me for a couple months last year. Then she started dating this bartender who was a real jerk. And finally she left him and moved to California. She seems happy out there, I guess. I try to stay in touch, but it’s hard with our schedules.”

Clark was quiet for a minute, and she cringed, wondering what had possessed her to share so much with him. What was it about him that made her completely unable to filter?

“That sounds really hard,” he said finally, his voice gentle. “It sounds like you care about her a lot. It’s hard not being able to help the people we love.”

“I should have helped her more when she was younger,” Lois confessed. “I waited too long.”

“You were a child, Lois. That wasn’t your responsibility.” His voice was tender but unequivocating.

She knew he was right, but it was impossible to think about Lucy without worrying and wondering what she might have done differently to set her on a better path.

“I bet you always wished for siblings,” she said, deflecting the conversation back to him. “I’m surprised you don’t have a whole house full of them. Isn’t that how it is on farms? Your parents didn’t want a whole gaggle? Or did they just decide they got lucky with the perfect son the first time around and didn’t want to push their luck?”

He chuckled at her “perfect son” compliment. “They would have loved to have enough kids to field a baseball team. They both dreamed of a big family. But my mom had some health issues as a child, and it turned out later they left her unable to conceive. They didn’t find out until they’d been married for a few years. They were pretty devastated.”

“Oh, no,” she said automatically. She had never really contemplated motherhood herself, but she could imagine the shock of planning a whole life and then having it yanked away. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah,” he said solemnly. “They tried to adopt through an agency, but it was so expensive and the farm was going through a rough patch. They really thought they would never be parents. And then I just sort of…fell into their laps. It was a private adoption. A complete surprise.”

“They must have been so thrilled. They must have felt so lucky,” she said.

“I’m the lucky one. They’re the best parents in the world. I can’t imagine how different my life would be if I’d have ended up somewhere else.”

She could almost feel it through the phone line, the depth of his love and his devotion to them. And she tried to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a house full of love with parents who spoke of you as the answer to their prayers.

“I think you were both lucky. To find each other. It’s like the universe knew you were meant to be together. To be a family. And it brought you together.”

They were quiet for a moment, and she suddenly remembered standing outside her hotel room door asking him if he thought there was an alternate universe where he lived in Metropolis. And she wondered if this pull she felt toward him was the universe trying to correct its mistake and bring them together. She rolled her eyes at herself. She needed to stop spending so much time with Star.

“Tell me about the zoo,” she said. “Did Sophie have fun?”

“She had a blast,” he said, and she could hear his smile. He launched into a long, meandering tale of their day, full of descriptions of the animals and Sophie’s precocious witticisms, and she laughed comfortably, imagining their day together.

He was so different from any man she knew, voluntarily spending his Saturday at the zoo with a six-year-old.

She couldn’t remember her parents ever taking her to the zoo. After they divorced, when her father was only legally required to spend every other weekend with them, she had thought he would fill that time with outings and activities, trying to buy their affection like so many of her friends’ fathers. But he hadn’t even bothered. Weekends at his house were spent re-doing her homework to meet his expectations or babysitting Lucy while he ran back to work “for just a few minutes”.

The only time she remembered going to the zoo, aside from a school field trip in third grade, was when her father’s secretary had taken them for Lucy’s eighth birthday. He had claimed he would meet them there as soon as he finished up at work, and Lucy had insisted they wait for him, even though they were freezing and exhausted after six hours of walking around the zoo. But she wouldn’t be swayed, and they had stayed until closing time.

As they trudged back to their car, through the empty parking lot, Lois had expected tears. But her little face was impassive, and she remained stoic for the entire ride home, refusing to shed a single tear until she was alone in her room. When their mother found out, she hadn’t bothered to offer Lucy any sympathy, but they had both heard her rage at their father over the phone once they were in bed, the sound of breaking glass punctuating her demand that he never again send them off with his whore when he was supposed to be watching them.

Of course, her mother had never taken them to the zoo either.

But here was Clark, not just volunteering to take his goddaughter to the zoo once, but buying an annual pass so they could go again and again, and then laughing as he relived the day.

Their conversation wandered after that, staying on lighter topics. They talked about their weeks at work, the books they were reading, and an old television show they both loved. He told her about Sophie’s birthday party, and the way Lana berated Pete, only to melt when he whistled at her in the kitchen. And she told him about Cat’s latest conquest, a middle-aged banker with no appeal that Lois could ascertain but whom Cat insisted had “raw animal magnetism”.

He had just finished telling her a story about one of his seniors, a football player with more brawn than brains, who had gotten obliterated in a debate with Sarah during a class discussion about Lord of the Flies, when Lois stretched and caught a glimpse of her watch.

“Clark, it’s almost midnight,” she said, surprised.

“I’m sorry!” he said immediately. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said with a laugh. “We seem to be making a habit of this. But I really should get ready for bed. And your phone bill is going to be ridiculous.”

“Don’t you worry about my phone bill. It will be worth every penny,” he said. The soft, intimate tone of his voice was back, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

For four hours they had talked nonstop, about topics from the serious to the silly. And the whole time, their tone had stayed light and friendly. They had laughed and sparred, and she had loved every minute of their conversation. But it had lulled her into a false sense of security. She had forgotten momentarily how badly she wanted him. Wanted to touch him. Wanted to hear him say her name in that sweet, soft voice. Wanted him to kiss her again.

The silence stretched between them.

“I’m really glad we did this,” she said finally.

“Me too,” he said softly. “Can I call you again? Next week, maybe?”

She should tell him no. She should tell him it was a bad idea. She should remind them both of all the reasons this wasn’t a good idea.

“I’d like that,” she said instead.

“Good,” he said, his voice warm and happy. “Thank you. Get some sleep. I’ll email you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Clark.”

“Good night, Lois.”

*****

Lois skimmed her completed article about the mayor’s new crime taskforce, charged with examining the rising rates of crime city-wide and recommending a comprehensive plan to make the city safer. She tweaked a few sentences flagged by her editor and added an end quote, then sent it off for a final edit.

It had been a long four days. Another warehouse had burned down overnight Tuesday, but this one didn’t seem to be connected to the others in any way that she could find either. Jimmy had tried his best to find anything of interest on the new manager of the Metro Club, but he was squeaky clean. And stakeouts outside Costmart on Tuesday and Wednesday had yielded nothing but a serious crick in her neck from sitting hunched over for too many hours in a row.

She glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen. Technically she was done for the day. She could go home and grab some dinner before she had to leave for taekwondo. Or…she could kill a little time looking over her Intergang research and wait…

Her inbox chimed, and her decision was made. She smiled as she clicked on his name.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:33 pm

I’m sorry your stakeout was so miserable. I hope your neck is feeling better by now. Taekwondo tonight, right? That should stretch it out if it’s still bothering you. Anything interesting at work today?

She hit reply immediately, settling comfortably into her chair.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:34 pm

I’ll live. I was just feeling whiny this morning. Nothing exciting at work today, just a boring story about the mayor’s new taskforce. How was your observation? Did it go well?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:36 pm

It went great! The kids were really engaged and made me look good. I think my job is safe for another year.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:39 pm

Haha. As if there was ever any doubt. I’m pretty sure it’s bad form to fire the Teacher of the Year.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:41 pm

You never know. There’s a first time for everything. You didn’t answer me about Taekwondo. What time is your class?

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:43 pm

It’s not until seven. I have some time. Did you finish reading Beach Music?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:44 pm

Not yet. I’m close. I’ll finish it tonight and we can talk about this weekend. You should eat before your class.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:45 pm

Don’t worry, Boy Scout. I’ll eat after class.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Never Again
Date: May 10, 1995, 5:46 pm

Hey, I’m just thinking of your classmates. You know you get mean when you’re hungry.

“Whatcha doing?” Jimmy asked.

Lois’ head snapped up, and she closed the email window automatically.

“Nothing!” she said quickly.

Jimmy laughed, and held his hands up. “Hey, I’m not the principal.”

“She’s definitely not emailing her secret boyfriend,” Cat said, voice deadpan, not bothering to look up from her screen.

“I do not-”

“Have a secret boyfriend,” Cat finished. “I know. And you definitely aren’t emailing him. You definitely don’t spring to attention every time your inbox alert chimes. And you definitely don’t lurk around your computer at six-ish every night waiting for him to rapid-fire email back and forth with you.”

“That is all…conjecture,” Lois said, cheeks burning.

“Why don’t you just go home and email him from there if you want to keep it such a big secret.”

“I’m not keeping anything-” she stopped abruptly and reconsidered. “Can I check my email on my laptop at home? If I get online?”

Cat lost her battle to pretend to be uninterested and burst out laughing.

Lois rolled her eyes at her and focused her attention on Jimmy. “Can I?”

He made a face. “Probably? I could help you log into the server. But Lois, you might not want to use your work email for personal emails. You know technically these emails belong to the company. They can monitor them anytime they want.”

She cringed thinking about her emails being read by the nosy tech department at work. Even though there wasn’t anything embarrassing on them, she didn’t want anyone else to read them.

“Could I check my personal email at work?” she asked. If she could have one email address that she could check at both work and home, she and Clark could talk like this in the evenings and she wouldn’t have to wait until morning to read his emails.

“Sure. It’s really simple. I’ll help you set it up. You do have internet at home, right?”

Lois grinned at him awkwardly, and he laughed. “Ok, the first thing you need to do is sign up for internet service at home.”

“And then you’ll help me figure out how to check my email at work?”

Jimmy nodded. “If you tell me about this mystery guy you’re so desperate to email,” he teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lois said airily, feigning ignorance.

Her inbox chimed again, and Cat and Jimmy both burst out laughing

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Lana said, sliding into the seat next to him in the teacher’s lounge and opening her lunch bag. “How’d it go this weekend?”

Clark shrugged. “Fine. I think we’re all done with the planting.”

A week of rain had set his father behind on planting, and Clark had spent all weekend working side by side with him and their hired hand to get caught up.

“Did you get any time to yourself?”

He looked at her silently, waiting for her to ask her real question.

“Did you get a chance to call Lois?” she asked with a grin.

“Yes,” he said. “I called her last night after dinner.”

“And…” she asked eagerly.

“And nothing. We talked. It was nice.”

“Nice? Nice?! Come on, you gotta give me more than that.”

He grinned. Lana was so easy to torment.

It had been more than nice. After a long tedious weekend planting, it had been exactly what he needed. They had discussed everything from her ongoing investigation to his classes to their own high school days. She had told him all about her downstairs neighbor, who claimed to be able to read minds and speak with the dead. And he had regaled her with stories of a shaman he had met on his travels. Three hours had passed in the blink of an eye, and he was amazed yet again by the way they could talk about everything and nothing.

“Fine,” Lana said with a sigh. “What are you doing tomorrow after work? Sophie has a t-ball game. You want to grab an early dinner with us and come to her game?”

Clark hesitated. Lois was having internet set up at home tomorrow, and he had been looking forward to emailing with her in the evening.

“Do you have something better to do?” Lana asked suspiciously.

“No,” he said finally. “That sounds nice.”

Lana took pity on him and launched into a story about one her students, and Clark relaxed and let his mind wander while half listening.

*****

Clark closed the door behind him and went straight to his office. He had gone straight from work to Pete and Lana’s for dinner, and then to the neighborhood park where Sophie’s t-ball team played.

The game was only a half hour long, the most their little attention spans could handle, and even still Sophie had spent half her time in the infield with her glove off drawing in the dirt.

Clark and Lana had sat together in the stands snickering as Pete yelled “heads up!“ and “look alive!” and “baseball ready!” ineffectively from the dugout.

The team had gone out for ice cream after, but Clark had begged off, claiming he needed to get some stuff done around the house. Lana had given him a skeptical look, but let him bow out without comment.

He winced at the screeching noise of the computer dialing in and then smiled at the “you’ve got mail!” announcement.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 2:33pm

All set! I can check this email at work or home, so you can switch to this all the time and then the spies won’t be able to read our super secret emails. Cat assures me that no one would be interested in reading any of my boring emails, but I’m not taking any chances.

I’m going to go beat the pavement for a bit, and see if I can catch any breaking news stories before deadline. Unless I get something really exciting, I should be home before you get done with Sophie’s game, so email me when you get home and we’ll chat!

He smiled at her message. It was amazing how much had changed in a month, from his first email, long and formal, with days of waiting for a response to this casual knowledge of his schedule and the assumption that they would chat tonight even with overlapping busy schedules.

He hit the reply button and started typing.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 6:54pm

Home! The t-ball game was highly entertaining. Watching Pete try to corral fifteen 5-6 year-olds who run the wrong way around bases and routinely throw the ball into the outfield brought Lana and I great joy.

Though I won’t be laughing in August when my players show up out of shape and out of practice and just as distractible as six-year-olds.

Did you find a story?

He hit send and waited a minute. When she didn’t respond, he stood, leaving his email logged in and wandered aimlessly around the downstairs of his house. Flipping on the tv and then turning it back off. Making himself a cup of tea and then abandoning it on the counter.

Finally he heard his favorite sound, and he disappeared in a blur, reappearing in his office chair. He clicked her message and waited eagerly for it to load.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:08pm

I’m glad the game was entertaining, but the real question is…did they win?

The mayor called a last-minute press conference to talk about some new crime stats, so I covered that. Nothing glamorous, but easy enough.

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:10pm

You are the most competitive person I’ve ever met. It’s T-BALL. It’s just an instructional league. They don’t keep score.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:11pm

Don’t even pretend you didn’t keep score in your head, Coach Kent.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:12pm

24-6 us. We creamed them.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:13pm

I knew it! How’s Lana? Did you ever tell her about Beach Music?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:15pm

Yes! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. I gave her my copy last week when I finished it, and apparently she stayed up all night on Saturday reading and crying. And Pete woke up in the morning and thought someone died.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:17pm

Oh my god, is it wrong that I’m cracking up?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:19pm

I laughed in her face, and she was incensed. It was hilarious. I warned her!

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:20pm

I mean, I can’t judge too hard. I also stayed up all night to finish it.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:22pm

I know! I TOLD her that when I gave her the book. She was warned.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:23pm

Have you decided what we should read next? Your turn to pick.

He grinned. Apparently this was going to be an ongoing thing.

When she had mentioned a couple weeks ago that she was reading and loving Pat Conroy’s latest novel, he had confessed that he had only ever read The Prince of Tides, and she had been appalled. She had harped on him relentlessly until he’d finally gone out and bought Beach Music so they could read together and discuss.

Sunday, when he had called her after dinner with his parents, they’d had a long meandering conversation about their favorite parts and the characters they loved and loved to hate. Lois had insisted she had gone to college with a guy who must have been the inspiration for Capers Middleton, and Clark had laughed as she skewered him and his slimy, underhanded betrayals.

They had discussed many books in broad strokes over the weeks that they had been talking, but he had loved reading and discussing a book intentionally with her. And apparently she had enjoyed it as well.

They hadn’t discussed reading another book together explicitly, and he wasn’t sure what made him happier – that she wanted to read another book with him, or her casual assumption that they would.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:25pm

Lana’s been trying to get me to read The Secret History for a solid year. Have you read that yet?

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:27pm

No! And I heard it was really good. Let’s do it.

How was school today?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:28pm

I love how you ask that like I’m the student. I feel like next you’re going to ask me how I did on my math test.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:29pm

Shut up. You know what I mean.

How was your math test, anyway?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:30pm

Ha, very funny.

School was fine. One of my sophomore girls went off about Holden Caulfield. You would have been very proud.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:32pm

Oh, that does my heart good. The next generation carrying on the torch of Holden Caulfield hatred.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:34pm

Did Jimmy get up the guts to ask coffee girl out again?

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: New Email Address
Date: May 15, 1995, 7:35pm

Ugh, no. And he will not stop talking about it. I was only in the newsroom for an hour or so today, and I think he mentioned her twelve times. If he doesn’t hurry up and ask her out again, I’m going to do it for him just so I can stop hearing about it.

The emails flew back and forth for another hour, discussing all the mundane details of their days, until finally they said goodnight and signed off. Clark logged off his computer and realized with a grin that the 1000 free minutes he had once thought would last a year, when he was just logging in to check his email once a day, were going to be eaten up fast if he and Lois continued to have two-hour long chats via email now that she had access at home. He made a mental note to call tomorrow and see about setting up internet service.

*****

The evening news droned on in the background while Clark sat on the couch grading papers. He cringed at the paper in front of him, the handwriting so illegible he needed a rosetta stone to translate it.

His attention wandered to his email, and he had to forcibly resist the urge to get up and check it. It was Thursday. She was at taekwondo. He knew that. And yet there was still the compulsion to check, just in case.

He glanced at his watch. Six thirty. Which meant seven thirty in Metropolis. Her class wouldn’t be over for another hour. There was absolutely no reason to check his email. He needed to focus on his grading, and then he could check his email once she was home.

He didn’t even want to think about what it meant that he was so addicted to her messages. That he longed to hear from her constantly. Every time he heard a funny story or read something interesting, he wanted to share it with her. And when he had a bad day at work or was just feeling down, it was her company he longed for.

He shoved that thought aside and picked up the paper again. Soon he was in a groove, his red pen jotting down corrections and comments on one paper after another.

As the bottom of the hour approached, he suddenly became aware of the grave-faced news anchor on the television.

“And now we go to Bethel, Maine where the search continues for two-year-old Ian Anders. Ian has been missing since approximately ten o’clock this morning, when his mother says he was playing in the yard with their golden retriever. She stepped inside to answer the phone, and when she came back out, the boy and the dog were gone.

“Ian was last seen wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a lightweight red jacket. Foul play is not suspected at this time, and Ian is believed to have wandered from the yard into the woods that border their property. Bethel is a small village in the foothills of the White Mountain National Forest, an area known for its majestic beauty and popular ski resorts.”

Clark sat aside the paper and reached for the remote, turning up the volume and watching as the scene cut to a reporter live in Maine. Behind him, search teams with canines moved hurriedly through the woods, calling Ian’s name.

“Thanks, Jessica. As you can see, search teams are working frantically, trying to beat the clock. As night falls, temperatures are dropping rapidly, and the low tonight is expected to be in the 30s. Temperatures that low could be fatal.

“Police teams from six nearby counties as well as an abundance of community volunteers have fanned out in every direction, searching for the boy, but so far there has been no sign of him or the family dog. Ian’s parents say the dog is extremely attached to the boy, and they are certain the two are still together.”

Clark couldn’t listen to any more. He flipped off the tv and zipped upstairs, changing quickly into black jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. He added a black hat and black boots, and then rolled his eyes at the image in the mirror. He looked like a cartoon cat burglar. He took off his glasses and placed them on his nightstand. He didn’t need them reflecting any search lights. He glanced back at the mirror, always surprised by how different he looked without his glasses. Then he jogged downstairs and out the back door, giving a quick scan before rocketing into the sky.

Within minutes, he was hovering above the heavy clouds in the Bethel skies. Below, he watched the teams move through the rapidly darkening woods, as the sun slipped below the horizon and the clouds blotted out any light from the moon.

The police had set up searchlights, but the thick vegetation of the forest made it hard for the light to penetrate, and Clark knew the odds of them finding the boy unharmed dropped by the minute.

From his vantage point in the sky, he began to search methodically, scanning slowly and carefully using both his magnification and x-ray vision. Given how intensely the search teams had been working for the last ten hours, he knew the boy wouldn’t be sitting in plain sight, and he focused on examining every nook and cranny, from fallen trees to outcropping of rocks.

Time ticked by quickly, and he could feel his anxiety increase with every dead end. The cries of the searchers filled his ears, their voices lifted in a chorus of the little boy’s name. Occasionally other cries reached his ears too, and he knew these cries of grief must be from the boy’s family. His heart ached for them, but he tried to block them out, listening instead for any sounds from the boy himself, but so far he was having no more luck hearing him than seeing him.

He shifted his position, rotating around the boy’s home, focusing his attention on a new swath of trees. Again, he scanned and x-rayed, looking under and around.

And then finally, there he was. His red jacket was the first thing that caught Clark’s eye. Just a little pop of red in the dark of the woods.

He was curled up with the dog, tucked under a large boulder. The boulder jutted out from the steep slope of the earth creating an almost cave-like nook underneath. The boy must have crawled in to explore, and the dog had followed him in. Clark hoped that the insulation of the earth and the body heat from the dog had kept the boy warm and safe.

He scanned the area, hoping to find a team nearby who would stumble across them. But he realized quickly that this area had already been searched, and the teams had moved past without finding the boy. If he didn’t intervene, they likely wouldn’t find him tonight since they were continuing to move in the opposite direction.

Clark hesitated, not sure of the best course of action. He needed to get the boy to safety, but how to do it. He could think of no reasonable way to alert the search teams to the boy’s location. How could he possibly explain how he had that knowledge?

He had to move the boy. That was the only logical choice. He could pull the boy from his hidey hole and place him somewhere that he would be found. Thankfully the boy was too young to communicate what had happened. He wasn’t sure how he would handle the situation if the child was older.

That settled, Clark descended from the clouds, landing softly beside the rock. He crouched down, and peered under.

“Ian?” he whispered. There was no response, so Clark reached under the rock, his hand finding the soft fur of the golden retriever. The dog startled at his touch, and Clark realized she had been asleep.

“Here girl,” he called softly, giving her a gentle shake and then backing off. The dog stirred and shook, and Clark could hear the tinny jingle of her tags on her collar. Eventually, she backed out of the little cave, and Clark gave her a quick scratch behind the years. “Good girl.”

Then he laid down, and peered under, and found Ian curled up fast asleep. He listened for a minute to the steady beat of his heart and his gentle breaths, and was assured that he was healthy and safe, just sleeping. Then he reached under and placed his hand on the boy’s back.

He rubbed gently, whispering the boy’s name, but he didn’t respond. Clark hooked a hand around his shoulder and dragged him out slowly and gently, expecting him to wake up along the way. Instead, the boy emerged from the little cave still curled in a ball and fast asleep.

Clark chuckled affectionately and lifted the boy into his arms and stood, cradling him. He scanned the woods, looking for the search crews. He found a nearby group of searchers then scanned the area directly in front of them, and found a little nest of fallen trees that would appeal to a toddler. He cradled Ian in one arm and lifted the dog with the other, and zipped quickled through the woods, depositing them both in the crook of the fallen trees.

The dog stood and shook, as if shaking off the strange experience of the flight, her tags jingling again. Ian began to stir and whimper, and Clark was encouraged. The more noise they made, the quicker they were likely to be found.

He rocketed back up above the clouds, and watched the group of volunteer searchers grow closer and closer to the boy. As he began to wake fully and realize where he was, Ian began to cry in earnest. And Clark watched as the search team froze, listening, and then began to run. Within seconds, he was scooped into the arms of a middle aged woman. The man beside her stripped off his coat, wrapping it around the little boy, and shouted for help.

Soon the woods echoed with the joyous shouts of police officers and volunteers alike as they converged on the little boy. They carried the boy back the short distance to his home where his exhausted mother ran out to meet them, sobbing with relief. Clark watched from above, thankful for this happy ending.

He started to fly toward home, but then decided just to fly for a while, floating somewhere between the earth and the stars.

There were times, so many times, when he wished for normalcy. He often thought he would gladly trade his powers for a life where he didn’t have to keep so many secrets; didn’t have to hide the truth about who he was and what he could do.

But how could he wish that when his powers could also do this? Ian Anders would sleep safely in his bed tonight because his powers enabled him to find the boy when others couldn’t. And those two little boys on a Miami beach last month slept soundly in their beds tonight because his powers had enabled him to find them and reach them just in time.

There was so much he could do to help, and those moments of joy made all the secret keeping worthwhile.

He floated for a long time, trying not to think of how many others out there he could be helping, if he didn’t have to worry constantly that he would be spotted and his carefully crafted life would come crashing down.

Finally he turned and flew home, arriving just in time for the ten o’clock news.

He flipped on the television and didn’t have to wait long for the update he was anticipating.

“Hello, and welcome. Our top story tonight is out of Bethel, Maine, where two-year-old Ian Anders has been found safe and unharmed. Police are calling it a miracle tonight. The little boy, who had been missing for ten hours after wandering away from his mountainside home, was found by volunteers just an hour ago. Tom?”

The camera cut to Bethel, where the correspondent on the scene stood now in front of the Anders home.

“A miracle indeed. Ian Anders is home now after being taken just briefly to the local hospital for observation. Doctors say the boy is in perfect health, without a scratch on him. The boy was found with his dog just a hundred yards from his backyard in an area of thick undergrowth. The boy’s dog is being hailed a hero tonight as the two were found together, and Police Chief Anthony Gray is speculating that the dog kept the boy warm with her body heat, preventing any serious injuries.”

The reporter turned to interview the police chief and Clark clicked off television, having seen enough. Ian Anders was home and unharmed, and there was no speculation that anyone unseen had been involved in his discovery.

He felt a momentary longing to share his joy with someone. Not to brag or receive any accolades, but just to share in the wonder of what he could do and the elation of knowing that one family’s nightmare was over.

He could tell his mother, but it was late and she was likely already in bed. His gaze drifted to his home office. He absolutely could not tell her. She was the last person in the world he should consider telling.

Still, even if he couldn’t tell her, maybe he could talk to her for a while.

He logged on and smiled at the familiar “you’ve got mail” alert and clicked on the first of her two emails.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: you around?
Date: May 17, 1995, 8:05pm

The body of the email was blank, and he felt a pang of regret when he saw the time stamp. She must have come home from taekwondo and logged in immediately looking for him.

He glanced at the clock on his screen. Ten minutes after ten o’clock. Only just past eleven in Metropolis. He might still catch her.

He clicked on her next message.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: good night
Date: May 17, 1995, 9:55pm

Ok, you must be out partying it up. Wild night out on the town?

Taekwondo was good but exhausting, and I have an early morning meeting with Perry tomorrow to discuss my Intergang investigation, so I need to get to bed.

I’ll catch you tomorrow.

He sighed and hit reply.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: good night
Date: May 17, 1995, 10:13pm

Sorry I missed you tonight. No big night out on the town. I just got caught up in some errands and chores and lost track of time. I didn’t realize how late it was until the ten o’clock news came on.

I hope you had fun at taekwondo. Good luck in the meeting tomorrow.

I’m not sure when I’ll be around tomorrow. It’s our monthly “guys night”. I think I mentioned before that Pete and I get together once a month or so for beers with some of the guys we went to school with. It’s generally pretty laid back, but most of the guys are married with kids and it’s their one night a month to pretend they are still young and single, and we usually wind up staying out pretty late.

I’ll check my email when I get home, but if it’s too late, I’ll catch you Saturday.

He hit send and sat back in his chair, frowning. Usually he looked forward to his monthly guys night out. As the only single member of the group, he often felt like a third wheel when he hung out with his friends and their families. Although everyone was always welcoming, and he genuinely liked their wives and kids, it was nice to have a night where it was just them, and he didn’t feel like the odd one out.

But for the first time he found himself dreading it. The truth was, as much fun as it was, he would rather be home talking to Lois.

For just a second he let himself imagine her here instead. Imagine that he was no longer the third wheel, but that he had his own family to bring to group barbecues and birthday dinners and holiday parties. The longing was so acute, the image of her on his arm so beautiful, that it hurt to envision.

He needed to stop. They were just friends. Whatever attraction there was or had been between them had been supplanted by a friendship that grew deeper by the day. Their conversations, though sometimes deep and intimate, were always platonic in nature.

On a night like tonight, he should know better than ever why that was for the best. But it didn’t stop the longing.

Chapter Text

Lois was starting to get really sick of the smell of smoke clinging to her hair. She tried to ignore the campfire stench as she typed up her article, but it kept invading her senses.

She had planned to spend Saturday morning sleeping in and then the day leisurely getting a few things done around her apartment interspersed with some overdue email chatting. A nice, relaxing day was just what she needed since she would be spending the entire evening at the mayor’s town hall where she expected him to face some tough questions about the rising crime rates, only to rush back to the newsroom to write up her story as quickly as possible and get it in before the paper went to print.

Instead, she had been awakened by a phone call from Jimmy telling her their arsonists had finally struck again. After two weeks without a fire, and still no leads on who was responsible, she had begun to wonder if the arsonists had completed their mission, whatever it might have been, and moved on.

It seemed that they had moved on after all – but not to a new city or a new crime, just to a new target. This time the target was headquarters of Dynastic Ventures, a leading producer of microchips and other electronic parts. At first, Lois had been unconvinced that this fire was related to the others, but as soon as she arrived on the scene and spotted the tell-tale dark arcs of accelerant, she changed her mind.

She had spent most of the day grilling investigators on the scene while Jimmy frantically ran searches for anything to connect Dynastic to any of the warehouses.

They had turned up nothing, and now Lois was more confused and frustrated than ever. And now she had less than an hour to get this piece on the fire written up and submitted so she could get home and shower and change and be at the town hall by six. So much for her nice relaxing day.

Her fingers flew over the keys, hammering out the details of the blaze. Finally complete, she gave the article a quick read through and sent it on to editing.

She stood and reached for her bag, then hesitated and sat back down. A few keystrokes, and her email inbox was open. Three new messages.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: good morning
Date: May 19, 1995, 9:12am

Hey there. Are you having a nice, relaxing morning? Sorry I didn’t catch you last night. I forgot it was Tim’s birthday, and he insisted we close the place down. We didn’t wind up leaving until after midnight, and then I had to take him home because he was in no condition to drive. He lives way out past my parents’ farm, so I’m sure his wife was thrilled when she woke up and realized she had to drive him into town to retrieve his truck.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: hellooooo
Date: May 19, 1995, 11:23am

I know you aren’t still sleeping. Where are you? Come chat with me.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: hellooooo
Date: May 19, 1995, 4:11pm

Okay, since you disappeared on me today and it’s all rainy and gross outside, I decided to start The Secret History, and oh man, hurry up and read so we can discuss!

I hope you’re having a good day!

She glanced at her watch. His last email was only sent 15 minutes ago. Maybe she could catch him. If not, she could at least shoot him a reply and let him know why she disappeared.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: hellooooo
Date: May 19, 1995, 4:27pm

So much for my relaxing morning. I woke up bright and early to the sound of my phone. Another fire. At an office building this time. I’m so confused. I just finished my article, and now I need to rush home and shower and change to get to this town hall. Sorry we’re having such a hard time connecting this week.

She hit send and waited. Her inbox chimed almost immediately, and she smiled for the first time all day.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hellooooo
Date: May 19, 1995, 4:29pm

We’ll find a time eventually. Go home and get ready. Maybe you’ll have a few minutes to relax before you have to leave again. We’ll talk soon.

She hesitated for a minute, an unfamiliar ache in her chest. She missed him.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: hellooooo
Date: May 19, 1995, 4:32pm

Okay, I’m going. Call me tomorrow after dinner?

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: hellooooo
Date: May 19, 1995, 4:33pm

Count on it.

Her heart tightened in her chest. She could hear those words in his voice, soft and low. Count on it.

They had fallen into such an easy friendship over the course of the last month that she sometimes forgot how she had felt in his presence. The way her heart sped up she saw him, the flutter of butterflies when he smiled at her, the prickle of desire when he said her name.

Sometimes she wondered if she had imagined it all. If the chemistry between them had been all in her head. And then he would end their phone calls with a quiet good night, or reply to her request for him to call with a simple phrase that made it sound like there was nothing in the world he wanted more, and suddenly it all came rushing back.

*****

Lois cast a glance around and then pulled up her email. They had talked for hours the night before, his voice soothing away the stress of her weekend. So there was no reason to think there would be a message waiting for her first thing Monday morning. But she couldn’t resist checking.

She grinned when she saw his name in bold, the unread message waiting at the top of an inbox full of his emails.

From: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
To: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
Subject: Good Morning
Date: May 21, 1995, 7:20am

It was good to hear your voice last night. I hope today goes easy on you after your busy weekend. I’ve got the end of year banquet for scholar athletes tonight, so I won’t be home until late. Chat tomorrow?

Her smile widened. It had been good to hear his voice last night too. After a stressful weekend spent working even more than she had anticipated, she had been exhausted and irritated Sunday night. But the second she answered her phone and heard his voice, it all melted away.

He’d had her laughing in minutes, describing his mother’s latest painting and his father’s unfortunate decision to compliment her bold color choices for the pastoral scene, only to discover that it was, in actuality, a self portrait. The resulting silent treatment had been meant as a punishment, but Clark said he thought his father had actually enjoyed the brief respite.

The conversation had meandered from there, eventually taking a more serious turn. Clark seemed more contemplative than usual, asking her if she thought people had a moral obligation to help their fellow man to whatever degree they were capable, and if so how did one balance that with the obligations of their own lives and families.

She had tried to draw him out, wondering what had prompted this question and whether he was struggling with balancing his obligations to his students, his family, and his community with his own desires. But he had deflected, insisting it was only a theoretical question.

He had impressed her, as always, with his quiet thoughtfulness and insight. She wondered sometimes if she had dreamed him, this farm boy from Kansas who devoted his life to taking care of his family and improving the lives of his students; who talked about justice and equity and systemic change as easily as he discussed crop rotation and classic literature.

Sometimes, when they hadn’t spoken for a few days, she almost convinced herself that he wasn’t who she thought he was. That she had built him up in her imagination to be something special when he was just an ordinary man. A kind and good man, but nothing special. And then he called her and wanted to discuss moral imperatives and she laughed quietly to herself, charmed yet again by his caring, his integrity, his innate goodness.

“Conference room, people!” Perry bellowed, dragging her from her musings. She stood and grabbed a notebook and pencil, then hesitated and grabbed her empty coffee cup. She took a detour past the coffee pot for a refill, earning her an eye roll from her boss, and then hurried into the conference room.

She sat quietly, daydreaming, as Perry handed out stories that didn’t affect her. And then sat up straighter once he started talking about metro stories.

“I just got word that the mayor’s going to announce a public panel discussion for next weekend due to the overwhelming response to Saturday’s town hall. Sunday at six. Any volunteers?”

All eyes were on her. She always volunteered for weekend assignments, and this one in particular seemed like it was a job for her, given that she had covered the town hall.

But on Sundays she talked to Clark. It wasn’t set in stone, but it had just sort of become a part of her routine. She was sure Clark would be willing to find another time to talk or skip one week, but…she didn’t want to. She liked their routine.

She knew she should take the assignment. She never turned down assignments. But Sundays…

“I, uh, I…” she stumbled over the words, all eyes on her. “I have plans Sunday? I don’t know if I can…”

Perry raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised, but refrained from commenting. “Anyone else want to volunteer before I assign it? Johnson? Murphy?”

He found a taker pretty quickly. The story was almost certain to make the front page, and no one turned down an easy front page story.

Across the table, Cat was looking at her suspiciously. Lois tried to ignore her, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cat scrawl something on her notebook and then hold it up to her. “Hot date?”

Lois rolled her eyes and shook her head, and Cat shrugged and went back to whispering to Karen from Arts and Leisure.

Lois nodded at Perry’s directive to work on a follow up Saturday’s fire, and then sat in contemplative silence while he wrapped up the rest of the meeting. Had she really just turned down a front page story so she could talk on the phone with a cute guy? Who was she becoming?

*****

The week passed in a blur of boring articles, a tolerable happy hour with coworkers, and a long-overdue phone call with Lucy.

By the time the weekend rolled around, she was restless and antsy. Some open gym sparring practice Saturday morning seemed like just the answer, and when some of her friends from class invited her to join them afterward for brunch, she leaped at the opportunity.

She wondered briefly, as conversation flowed around her, what Clark was doing. They had chatted for an hour or on Tuesday, but hadn’t had a chance to do more than exchange a few emails since. The end of the school year was approaching, and he was bogged down in banquets, ceremonies, exam study sessions, and all manner of school obligations. Plus it was a busy time on the farm, and he was helping his dad in whatever free time he could find.

Sunday evening found her pacing nervously in her apartment. She had convinced Clark to let her call him tonight, because it didn’t seem fair that he should be footing the bill for all their conversations, even if he did insist that he was happy to do so. But now she was inexplicably nervous to dial the numbers.

It made no sense. She knew he was waiting for her call, and she knew how delighted she was to hear her phone ring every Sunday night. There was no reason to be nervous.

What was her problem? She was Lois Lane. She thought nothing about calling presidents and CEOs and celebrities. She dialed those numbers without a second thought. Why was she nervous to call Clark? He was her friend.

She snatched up the receiver and dialed the number written on the notepad beside the phone before she could give it any further thought.

The phone rang only once before she heard the click of a connection and then his voice, warm and cheerful. “There you are. I was beginning to think you changed your mind.”

“Never,” she said with a laugh, refusing to admit how close he was to the truth. “I just wanted to make sure to give you enough time to get home from your parents’.”

“I’ll have you know, I turned down a second slice of my mom’s apple pie so I could rush home and talk to you,” he said. “And I never turn down my mom’s apple pie.”

“Well, I’ll have you know I turned down a front page story so I could call you tonight,” she countered.

He was quiet for a second. “You didn’t really?” he asked quietly. “You’re kidding right?”

“It was a boring story about the mayor and his crime taskforce,” she explained, suddenly self-conscious. “That town hall I covered last weekend was so well attended that he decided to hold a panel discussion tonight with experts from his taskforce.”

“And you were supposed to cover it?”

“Well, Perry offered it to me. I said I already had plans Sunday. So he assigned it to someone else.”

“You didn’t have to have to do that,” he said, his voice quiet and serious. “I don’t want you to… You don’t have to do that, Lois. We can talk any night. It doesn’t have to be Sunday.”

The gentle disbelief in his tone, his clear message that he didn’t expect her to make career sacrifices for him, the twist of longing in her chest that both those things elicited…this conversation was quickly venturing into a territory she wasn’t prepared to enter.

“It’s fine,” she said, as breezily as she could muster. “I like our Sundays. And it’s an easy page one, but it’s not like it’s going to win anyone a Pulitzer.”

“Oh, is that the criteria now?” he asked, his voice slipping back into his normal affable tone. “You’ll give up a story for me, but only if it’s not Pulitzer worthy?”

“Now you’re getting it,” she teased.

“Fair enough,” he said. “What did you do today?”

“Went for a run in the park, went grocery shopping, did laundry, read for awhile. Nothing exciting. What did you do?”

“Finished writing my exams, helped my dad repair some fences, did some planning for the summer. Actually…” he trailed off and she waited for him to finish. “I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Oh no,” she said automatically. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

“What?” he asked, clearly confused. “No. Why would you say that? I just-”

“You have that tone. When someone wants to give you bad news, but they want to warn you about it first and try to soften the blow. I always hate that. Just rip off the bandaid, I say. Better to just get it out there and-”

“Lois. What in the world are you babbling about?”

She stopped, her brain catching up with her mouth.

“I wanted to talk to you about this summer. I only have a few weeks of school left, and I’m trying to finalize my travel plans. I can’t get a direct flight to Malaysia. I have to layover in either Atlanta or Metropolis. I just thought…if I flew through Metropolis, maybe I could stay overnight and we could meet up. I’ve never been to Metropolis. Maybe you could show me around, we could grab dinner?”

Her heart leapt in her chest. Suddenly she could see him here, in her city. And she wanted that so badly. Her mind drifted back to that hotel counter in Miami, when she had longed for just one more day.

“Lois?” he said tentatively. “No pressure. It was just an idea. I can always just-”

“No!” she said. “I mean, yes! Please come. I would love that.”

He exhaled, and her heart twisted again, knowing he had been nervous that she didn’t want to see him.

“I was just thinking…I wish we had more time. It’s going to be hard to show you much of anything in just one day.”

He paused. “If you’re serious, I can stay longer. I told you before, I never have much of an agenda on these trips. All my dates are flexible.”

She thought suddenly of all those unused vacation days. “Could you come for a long weekend? Maybe fly in on Thursday and out on Sunday? Or something like that? I don’t know how often flights run to Malaysia. I could take Friday off work. That would give us three days to play tourist and hang out.”

“I can definitely do that,” he said, his barely restrained excitement awakening the butterflies in her stomach.

“Just look at flights and give me the dates, and I’ll make it happen,” she said.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “I want to see everything. Will you give me a tour of the newsroom? I want to see the world famous Daily Planet.”

She laughed, allowing her excitement to smooth over the flicker of nerves she felt at the thought of bringing him into the busy newsroom and opening herself up to speculation and gossip from her coworkers.

“Of course,” she said.

“It will probably be the third weekend in June,” he said. “Classes end on the 12th, and then I have a week of post planning and teacher work days.”

“Just let me know when you find flights. My schedule is wide open.”

She closed her eyes and let herself imagine three whole days with him in her city. She didn’t even know where to start.

Chapter Text

“You sure you don’t need help with anything else around the farm before I leave?” Clark asked, reaching for another slice of pie.

“I’m sure,” Jonathan said. “You’ve done more than enough. Whatever I can’t handle, Rob can do. That’s why we have him.”

Clark nodded, thankful for the presence of their hired hand. The last thing he wanted was for his father to get overconfident in his ability to do it all himself and wind up rundown, or worse.

“What about you?” his mother asked. “You all ready to go?”

Clark took a deep breath, and gave a quick nod. The last few weeks of school had flown by in a haze of final exams, senior awards, graduation, and football tryouts. And now, with his classroom closed up for the summer and arrangements made for a neighbor to check his mail and water his plants, he was set to embark on his summer travels. One last dinner with his parents, and then he would be gone for over a month.

“You going to stop first in Borneo to stay with those friends of yours?” Jonathan asked. “The ones who took you on that guided tour a few years back?”

Clark hesitated. “Actually…my first stop is Metropolis.”

“Metropolis?” Martha’s fork froze halfway to her mouth, her eyes lit up with excitement. “You didn’t mention Metropolis.”

“Yeah, just for the weekend, then on to Borneo.”

“You’re going to see Lois?” His mother asked, clearly dying for more information. “Did she invite you?”

Clark hesitated. He was not thrilled with the deception he had used to bring up his visit, and he knew his parents would not be proud of him if he admitted that he had fabricated a layover.

“I asked if I could stop by on my way out of the country so we could spend the evening together,” he said, skirting the truth. “And she suggested I come for a long weekend because I wouldn’t have time to see much if I just came for one night.”

Martha looked quite pleased with that turn of events. “Are you staying with her?”

“No, Mom,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice. He knew she was just excited. “I’m staying in a hotel near her apartment. We’re just friends. This isn’t a romantic weekend getaway. It’s just one friend visiting another.”

Jonathan had remained quiet in his seat thus far, and Clark could feel the tension radiating from him. “I’m sure there will be a lot to see in Metropolis,” he said finally. “Just be careful.”

“Dad, I’m not going to do anything stupid. We spent two days together in Miami without me spontaneously blurting out all my secrets.”

“Metropolis isn’t like the outback, you know,” Jonathan replied, ignoring his sarcasm. “People in the city are always trying to make a quick buck. If they find out about you, they’ll put you in a lab-”

“And dissect me like a frog,” Clark finished, echoing back his father’s frequent refrain.

“This is nothing to joke about,” Jonathan replied. “I know you think I’m overprotective-”

“I don’t,” Clark said quietly. “I’m sorry, Dad. I understand your concern. But we’re friends. She’s…special to me. I want to see her. I want to spend time with her.”

He hadn’t realized it was possible for his mother to look even more excited, but his admission had done it.

“She’s special to you?” she asked, grinning widely.

Clark didn’t bother to deny it or avoid the question. “I’ve never felt this way about any woman before, and I keep waiting for her to get tired of me and move on….” He trailed off, unable to put into words his disbelief that she continued to talk to him every day, that she seemed to look forward to their discussions as much as he did. “I don’t know if there’s any possibility she might feel the same way about me. But I do know that I asked her to have dinner with me, and she asked me to come for a long weekend. I don’t know what that means, but I’m not stupid enough to say no to that.”

His father looked resigned, and Clark knew he wanted his son’s happiness just as much as his wife did, but that he worried in a way she didn’t.

“What kinds of things are you planning to do while you’re there?” his mother asked, ever the peacemaker.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, honestly. “Lois has a few things planned. I know we’re going to go to the natural history museum. And some sort of sightseeing tour. She’s excited about playing tourist.”

“Has she lived in Metropolis long?” Martha asked.

“She was born and raised there,” he replied. “She’s lived there her whole life.”

“It’s weird to think of someone being from Metropolis,” Jonathan said.

“She thinks it’s weird to be from Smallville,” he said with a grin, though he knew what his father meant. Metropolis seemed like the type of city people moved to as adults, not a place where children grew up.

Martha laughed. “I’m sure it does seem like a whole different world to her.”

“It should make her an excellent tour guide,” Clark said. “She can show me all her favorite spots. And then Sunday I’ll leave for Borneo.”

“You made sure to check for flights?” his father asked.

“There’s a flight from Metropolis to Kuala Lumpur on Sunday morning,” he replied. He had given Lois that flight information as well as the flight times of a direct flight from Wichita to Metropolis on Thursday afternoon. Of course he wouldn’t actually be on either of those flights, but he would make sure to time his arrival and departure with real flights just in case she looked up his flight times.

“Well,” said Martha, standing and beginning to clear the table. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

*****

Clark paced the tiny hotel room, checking his watch for the millionth time. His alleged flight had landed at just past five, and he had timed his arrival at the hotel with that in mind.

Lois had offered to pick him up at the airport, but since the flight landed during her working hours, and she was already taking the whole day off tomorrow, he had convinced her to let him take a cab to his hotel room and get settled. She was supposed to arrive around six thirty to take him to dinner, and now it was six thirty-two.

Since his flight had taken all of thirty seconds, he didn’t need to freshen up or change. He was dressed in dark dress pants and a white and blue pinstripe dress shirt. He had decided against a tie, leaving the top button open and rolling up his sleeves. Lois hadn’t told him where they were going for dinner, but he knew she would be coming straight from work, so he assumed business casual would be appropriate.

The knock on the hotel room door caught him off guard, and he startled. He tilted his head forward and looked over the tops of his glasses, smiling when he saw her on the other side biting her lip nervously.

He crossed the room in three strides and swung the door open. She stood in front of him in a short sleeved black sweater that hugged every curve and a gray skirt that ended well above the knee. Any part of him that had been convinced by his insistence over the last two months that their relationship was purely platonic went out of the window immediately. He inhaled sharply, his only goal at this point not to make a complete fool of himself.

“Hi,” he said softly, thankful his voice didn’t crack.

“Hi,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. And then she stepped forward and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It took him only a fraction of a second to respond, wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt so right in his arms, he didn’t ever want to let her go. He was surprised by how tiny she was. She so often seemed larger than life, and he hadn’t realized just how delicate she was.

She stepped back, and he released her, letting his arms fall to his sides. She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously, her cheeks pink, and his heart soared at the idea that she was as affected by their hug as he was. He wanted desperately to touch her, to feel his hand against her skin.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said finally, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to lean forward and kiss her.

He settled instead for reaching out and cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing her cheekbone tenderly. “I can’t believe I’m really here either,” he said. He pulled his hand away, still tingling from the touch of her. The silence hung between them, full of all the things they both felt but couldn’t or wouldn’t say.

“We should go,” she said finally. “I made dinner reservations. I think you’re going to love it.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, though he would have been happy to eat anywhere if she was there with him.

“It’s a surprise,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “But we need to hurry.”

He stepped through the doorway, his key card and wallet already in his pocket, and let the door shut behind him. “Lead on,” he said. “I am at your mercy all weekend.”

She laughed and led the way through the quiet hall of the small motel, and then through the lobby, past the bored front deskman, and out onto the street. He followed her halfway down the block to where she had parallel parked her Jeep, and climbed into the passenger seat.

The ride across town was eye opening. At home, he drove to and from work daily, but he often made the seven minute drive without so much as passing another vehicle. And although he had traveled all over the world, including stays in cities with traffic congestion that made Metropolis look like child’s play, he had never been subjected to the urban traffic from the passenger seat of a vehicle. His unique abilities allowed him to avoid car travel most of the time and sidestep the stress of commuting in a large city.

He cringed as Lois whipped in and out of lanes, cutting off other drivers and yelling when they gave her the same treatment. He tried to hide his horror, but it must have showed on his face, because she glanced over and laughed at him.

“You’re not in Kansas anymore, farm boy.”

He laughed, his heart flip flopping the way it always did when she called him farm boy.

She slammed on the breaks and reversed suddenly, sliding into a newly-vacated parking spot, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go!” she said, unclipping her seat belt and exiting the Jeep without so much as a glance at the oncoming traffic. Clark cringed, thankful she wasn’t flattened by a passing vehicle.

By the time he exited the Jeep, she was standing on the sidewalk beside him. She was grinning with excitement, and he glanced around, trying to guess where they were going for dinner.

“This way,” she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and pulling him forward. He followed her lead, and grinned when he realized she had no intention of letting go.

When they reached the end of the block, she turned right, and he knew immediately where she was taking him. In front of them lay Dinello’s, a brand-new restaurant so famous he had heard of it all the way in Smallville. The owner, a world-famous sports trainer, had retired last year and opened a restaurant that featured classic Italian dishes with a side of sports memorabilia.

It was a popular destination for celebrities of both the sports and entertainment industries, and he had seen more than a few photospreads with the restaurant as the backdrop splashed across the front page of gossip magazines in the grocery store checkout line.

She smiled up at him, waiting for a reaction. He laughed and raised his free hand to cover hers where it still lay in the crook of his arm.

“This is amazing. How did you even get reservations?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I have my connections.”

He reached for the door and ushered her through, missing the warmth of her hand on his arm, but making up for it by allowing his hand to rest on the small of her back even after she was through the doorway.

The lobby was large, and his eye was immediately drawn to the walls, which were covered in photos of the owner with famous athletes interspersed with small shelves displaying autographed balls, pucks, gloves, hats, and every other piece of equipment he could imagine.

Lois stepped up and spoke briefly to the hostess, and he allowed himself to linger over the displays. When she returned, he was examining a pair of boxing gloves and a photograph.

“This is amazing,” he said, gesturing to them. “Do you have any idea? These gloves… That’s Billy Mason. Maybe the greatest middleweight of all time.”

“Welterweight,” she corrected automatically, and he raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“I’ll never forget it,” he said, his mind casting back to middle school, he and Pete crowded around the television in his living room. “Mason-Rodriguez. June of ‘78.”

“‘79,” Lois said. “October.”

He considered for a minute, then shook his head, unsure what she was talking about. “Mason takes Rodriguez out in the eighth round.”

“Fourth,” she said, contradicting him yet again. “TKO.”

“What?” he said, honestly baffled now.

She smiled at him, unable to hide her amusement. “You’re thinking of the Mason-Ramirez fight a year earlier – before Mason moved up in weight class.”

His brow furrowed as he searched his memory. She was right, he realized suddenly.

“How did you know that?” he asked, both surprised and charmed.

“Lucky guess,” she said offhandedly, turning her attention back to the wall of memorabilia.

“No way,” he said. “Come on. How did you know that?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, the hint of a grin still at the corners of her mouth. “During the Mason-Rodriguez fight, Mason tears a rotator cuff…which is later operated on by…”

“Dr. Sam Lane,” he said slowly, all the pieces clicking into place.

“So you have heard of him,” she said. “I’ve been wondering how long it would take you to make the connection.”

“Anyone who reads the sports pages knows who he is,” Clark said, amazed that he hadn’t put it together before now. She had mentioned repeatedly that her workaholic father was a doctor, but she had never mentioned what kind of medicine he practiced. “He practically invented reconstructive surgery for athletes. Your dad is Dr. Sam Lane?”

She shrugged and smiled as if he had busted her. “He missed my birthday party doing that surgery.”

Every conversation they’d had about her father’s unrealistic expectations for her and her desire to prove herself to him suddenly became more clear in his eyes. No wonder she always felt like a failure, the disappointing eldest child, neither the boy nor the doctor Sam Lane had wanted.

He reached for her, resting his hand on her hip, unsure what to say to this revelation. And then the moment passed, and her head whipped around, a genuine smile gracing her face, as an avuncular man in his fifties stepped from the restaurant floor into the lobby and called her name.

“Allie!” she cried.

“Hey, pumpkin! They told me you called. You finally coming to check out the place?”

He swept her into a hug, twirling her around before sitting her back on her feet.

“Allie, I want you to meet someone. This is my friend, Clark Kent. He’s visiting from Kansas. When he said he was coming to town, this was the first place I thought to bring him.”

Allie beamed at her, then turned his attention to Clark. He extended his hand, and Clark took it, smiling at the friendly handshake. “Allie Dinello! Any friend of Lois’ is welcome here. Are you a writer like Lois?”

Clark started to protest but Lois cut him off. “He’s a writer and a teacher. And a football coach.”

“Ahh, a football coach!” Allie said, his eyes lighting up. “About time, pumpkin.”

She blushed and rolled her eyes at him, and Clark felt suddenly like a teenaged boy meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time.

“How’s work?” Allie asked Lois, taking pity on them both. “Perry White finally put you on the sports pages where you belong?”

Lois shook her head, and Allie turned to Clark and said conspiratorially, “She’s forgotten more about sports than I ever knew.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” Clark said, grinning at Lois. She grinned back, and he let himself take in this new version of the woman who had so thoroughly enchanted him already. She was not just brilliant and successful and unbearably beautiful with a love of literature that rivaled his own and an ability to talk for hours about symbolism. Now here she was besting him at sports trivia and unveiling a whole new side of herself that he hadn’t known existed.

Allie excused himself eventually and faded back into the crowd, and the hostess showed them to their table. And then the night flew by, just as it always did when they were together.

For hours they lingered over plates of pasta and glasses of wine and then the best tiramisu Clark had ever had, while they talked about their favorite sports memories both personal and professional.

She asked him about football tryouts, and for the first time he didn’t assume she was just asking to be polite, and he told her all about his team, his new recruits, and his strategy for the upcoming year. He couldn’t help but laugh when he realized that of course he had underestimated her previously, when he had answered her questions vaguely. She understood the plays and the positions and the strategy of the game, discussing his coaching philosophy in depth and challenging him on some of his ideas.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew so much about football?” he asked, still laughing.

“You never asked,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he said quietly, too charmed by her tonight to hide his feelings.

“Good,” she said with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

When they finally finished — the waitress insisting that their meals were on the house — Lois left a generous tip, and they slipped out into the summer night. It was late, nearly eleven, and Clark prepared to walk back to Lois’ Jeep and head back to his hotel for the night, but Lois lingered outside the restaurant. He looked at her questioningly.

“You up for one more thing tonight?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said quietly, and she reached again for his arm. She led him in the opposite direction of the Jeep, and they strolled in companionable silence, her fingers curled around his arm, his heart stuttering at her touch.

After a block and a half, they slowed to a stop, and Clark tilted his head up to survey the skyscraper in front of him.

“Met Tower,” Lois said. “Second tallest building in Metropolis. There’s a public observation area on the roof. Want to go up?”

He nodded eagerly and followed her into the building. The elevator arrived quickly, faster than he anticipated, and they began the climb up the one hundred and two stories. He imagined that the elevator was crowded earlier in the evening and on weekends, but they were alone tonight.

“Second tallest?” he asked.

Lois rolled her eyes. “Luthor Tower.”

Of course.

She hesitated, and Clark could tell she wanted to say more. He leaned against the wall and waited.

“I had dinner with him once. On the balcony of his penthouse.”

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. His mind went back to their first night together, over drinks at the hotel bar in Miami, when she had brought up the rumor that she had slept with Luthor, and he had refused to take the bait. He still didn’t believe it was true, but now he wondered if that was just wishful thinking. If he didn’t want to imagine her in someone else’s arms. Anyone else’s, let alone Luthor’s.

“It was supposed to be an interview. Or, at least, I wanted it to be an interview.” She hesitated again, and he reached out and rested his hand on her arm, continuing to listen silently. She moved closer to him, almost imperceptibly.

“He told me he didn’t give interviews,” she said finally, her voice low and quiet. “I knew it wasn’t an interview. But I thought maybe I could turn it into one. He was magnetic, powerful. But I wasn’t attracted to him. I didn’t… When I agreed to have dinner with him, I was always thinking of how I could use that time to learn more about him because I wanted to write about him. It was never personal.”

She looked up at him, and Clark nodded, unsure what she wanted from him – why she was telling him this.

“Anyway, I had dinner with him on the balcony of his penthouse. He told me it was the tallest building in Metropolis. That he liked being where everyone in the city was forced to look up at him.”

“And now, because of you, he’s locked up in jail like a common criminal, and the entire city looks down on him,” Clark replied, and her face lit up.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, revealing a rooftop terrace. A chest-high wall surrounded them, a few coin-operated viewfinders sprinkled around. They weren’t entirely alone — he saw two other couples taking in the view — but it was a large space, and it was easy to imagine they were.

They walked together to the edge, and Lois rested her arms on the concrete ledge, looking out over the city. He leaned beside her, his body facing her, his hand resting on the small of her back.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, the lights of the city twinkling up at them. The cars below were just a blur of headlights. He looked up and saw nothing but a haze of darkness, the lights of the city obscuring the stars.

“A little different than night in Smallville?” she teased, looking up with him.

He smiled. “Just a little.”

“Luthor liked to imagine all the people below looking up at him, envying him. It made him feel powerful. When I stand here, it humbles me.”

He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her to explain.

“All those people. Just living their lives. Totally oblivious to us up here. They aren’t looking up, envying us. They’re just looking ahead, going about their lives. Going to work. Going home. Happy. Sad. Angry. Whatever they are doing, whatever they are feeling, they are completely oblivious to us up here. Their lives are busy and full, without any thought of us.”

He nodded, familiar with that humbling feeling. When he flew sometimes, hovering in the liminal space between earth and stars, he often felt set apart and lonely, as if he belonged to neither. He longed suddenly to share that space with her.

A sudden breeze ruffled her hair, and she shivered. The summer night was mild, but he took advantage of the moment and shifted closer to her, curling his arm around her shoulders. She stepped closer, into the circle of his arms and rested her head against his chest.

His heart thundered below her ear, and he hoped she couldn’t hear it. He rubbed her back gently, ostensibly to warm her, then trailed a hand down her arm, gliding over her soft skin.

“It’s a bittersweet feeling,” he said finally, and she nodded. “It’s lonely, in a world where no one sees you, no one knows you’re there.”

“But also freeing,” she finished. “Without the constant pressure to change the world, to fix things and make them better, to hold the right people responsible. Sometimes every minute seems fraught. Like I can never slow down, never take a break, because there’s always something that needs to be done, something that needs to be investigated. If I stop, even for a minute, I’m betraying these people, abandoning them. But up here… it all feels so insignificant. Those people going about their lives don’t care if I take a minute to breathe.”

He thought about all the responsibilities that weighed on him — his parents, his students, his team, his community — and about his obligation to the strangers whose lives he could save or improve and the balance of those lives against his parents’ rights to safety and privacy.

“Sometimes it feels like every decision is so critical,” he said quietly. “Up here, you get a different perspective. The small things blur together. Everything is painted in broad strokes. There’s room for mistakes.”

She lifted her head and smiled at him, and he knew that she understood. Their responsibilities to the world were different, but they both struggled under the same weight.

She rested her head back against his chest again, and his fingers stroked her back gently. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and sighed softly, content with her in his arms in a way that was both strange and new and yet somehow achingly familiar.

Chapter Text

Lois circled the block, looking for a parking space near Clark’s hotel room. Her heart raced in her chest as she thought of the night before and anticipated another day with him. Last night with him had left her flustered and unexpectedly emotional.

She had been looking forward to dinner with him at Dinello’s — a chance to finally check out Allie’s new restaurant with someone who would appreciate the ambiance as much as she did. And she would be lying if she didn’t admit she got a kick out of showing him up a bit when it comes to sports trivia.

Sports was something they hadn’t discussed at length before last night. It had come up occasionally in conversations about his job and their high school experiences. But she had always gotten the impression that he never dwelled on the topic too long because he didn’t want to bore her. It didn’t take her long last night to disabuse him of that notion. And for the first time, they’d had a long, sustained conversation about it.

Over the years, she had found that most men were attracted at first to her knowledge of sports and her enjoyment of them. They usually tested her not-so-subtly — sure her knowledge only scratched the surface; a party trick used to attract men. But when it quickly became apparent that she understood the ins and outs of most games and the history of local pro teams better than the average fan, she quickly became “not like other girls”.

But that lasted only until she challenged them. She always did. And she was always right. And those same men who had once found it so alluring when she rattled off batting averages or third down conversion stats suddenly thought she was showing off when she corrected their assertions.

Somehow she didn’t worry about that with Clark, though. He had been both thrilled by her knowledge and self-deprecating about his assumption that it was a topic that didn’t interest her. They had talked for hours, reminiscing about great sport plays they’d been a part of or had witnessed. But her favorite part of the conversation was when he talked to her about his football team, opening up about his players, and their strengths and weaknesses, as well as his plans for the upcoming season, and his strategy to take them back to State.

Later, when they had walked to Met Tower, and looked out over the city together, sports had been the last thing on her mind.

She had planned the visit ahead of time, assuming he would appreciate the view. But she hadn’t anticipated discussing Luthor with him.

She had maintained for years that her solitary dinner with Luthor had been nothing more than an interview, and last night had been the first time she had confessed that she had known at the time that it wasn’t; that she had been willing to exploit her femininity, and Luthor’s obvious desire for her, to position herself to glean information about him. The date had gone nowhere, for either of them, and she had never accepted another of his invitations. But still, she had felt compelled last night to be open with Clark about that night in a way she had never been before.

And then, without warning or planning, she had found them discussing the melancholy, complicated emotions surrounding personal responsibility to the greater good. That sense of being set apart from the world, and the bittersweet relief of anonymity and taking a break from trying to save the world from itself. And again she was opening up to him in a way she never did with anyone else.

She found a parking spot on her second trip around the block, and parked her Jeep at the curb outside Clark’s hotel. She climbed out of her seat, trying to stifle her nerves as she walked down the sidewalk toward the front entrance and then into the lobby.

Over the past two months, they’d fallen into a routine of daily emails and weekly phone calls. And though there were moments that reminded her of the chemistry that had so clearly been between them when they first met, most of the time she thought of him primarily as a friend.

She loved debating literature with him or listening as he waxed philosophical. She laughed at the stories of his family and his students, and smiled as she pictured him working the fields of his home. And she shared her own stories with him with a comfort that was foreign to her.

She loved making him laugh as she described her coworkers or bouncing ideas off him as she vented about her investigations. He was a wonderful listener, always attentive but never pushing, when she shared stories from her childhood that she had never shared with anyone, and had honestly not usually even thought about in a decade.

When she was preparing for his visit, she had wondered if being with him in person would be different. If the intimacy that had allowed them that connection was based on distance. But it was clear now that being together in person only multiplied that feeling of intimacy; of trust.

He understood her in a way that no one else did, which made no sense given how different their lives were. And standing on that roof, with his body only inches from hers, his hand resting intimately on her hip, she had wanted him so badly.

When the breeze had ruffled her hair, tickling against her neck, she had shivered not from the cold, but from the electric charge between them; her desperate desire to feel his lips against that same spot on her neck.

He had misinterpreted her trembling as a chill, and had moved closer, and her head had swum with the smell of him, the nearness of him. In retrospect, she should have stepped away, should have put space between them. But in the moment, she was capable only of laying her head against his chest and allowing him to offer her warmth, his large, strong hands so gentle against her back and arms.

They had stayed like that far longer than necessary, and as they had made their way back to her Jeep at the end of the night, his hand had lingered on the small of her back in the way that always made her pulse race.

Later, at home in her bed, she had laid awake unable to sleep as images of his eyes, his grin, the broad expanse of his shoulders under the sedate pinstripes of his shirt danced behind her eyelids. She felt the ghost of his touch against her cheek and longed for him to kiss her again, like he had when they had both thought they were saying a final goodbye.

And she had lectured herself as she laid there, reminding herself of all the reasons why this relationship needed to stay platonic. The same reasons she had once thought she needed to let him leave without her phone number still applied – the distance between them still insurmountable. But now also because his friendship had become so unexpectedly precious to her. He was rapidly becoming her best friend, something she had never had before meeting him. And she wasn’t willing to sacrifice that friendship for a fling, when she knew they had only a few days together and then they had to go back to emails and phone calls.

Today she was taking him into the newsroom to give him a tour, and then they would go check out the new traveling exhibit at the Metropolis Museum of Natural History. And she resolved yet again this morning to set aside any attraction she felt for him and just focus on enjoying the time they had together during his visit – a visit from a platonic friend.

She had reached his hotel room door by this time, and she knocked quickly, her resolve strengthened.

The door was flung open almost immediately, and her jaw dropped as he stood before her, naked except for a hotel-issue towel wrapped low around his hips. His chest glistened, rivulets of water sliding down the sharp edges of muscles before disappearing beneath the terrycloth of the towel.

She had known that his dress shirts hid a well-muscled physique. It was clear even fully dressed that years of manual labor on the farm and strength training with his team had endowed him with broad shoulders and solid ropes of muscle. When he rolled up his sleeves, as he was apt to do, her eyes were drawn to the sleek muscles of his forearms, bunching and flexing as he talked with his hands.

But none of that prepared her for this. She had laid her head on his chest, had rested her hands on his arms, but she had never imagined just how…well defined he was.

She was staring, she realized with a start. She tried to drag her eyes from his abs to his face, but her gaze was caught along the way, tripping over the swell of his pectorals and then sliding along his shoulders to his arms.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Finally, she yanked her gaze from his body to his face, to that unbearably gorgeous grin. “I…I said nine,” she said. “I thought you’d be naked. Ummm, ready. I thought you’d be ready!”

“Sorry,” he said with a grin and a shrug. “My alarm didn’t go off. I’ll be ready in just a minute.”

He stepped back, holding the door open for her, and she stepped through, still at a loss for words. He let go of the door and stepped quickly across the room and into the bathroom, the door closing behind him.

She took a shaky breath, and then laughed silently, covering her face with one hand. So much for shoving aside her attraction to him.

*****

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing the newsroom buzzing with energy. A quick glance around told her the morning meeting was still in session, leaving a number of desks empty.

She led Clark down the ramp and gestured vaguely with one hand. “This is the bullpen. It’s where all the reporters work. The morning meeting is in progress right now, so you can see the conference room is full.”

She waved a hand toward the conference room, and he nodded, eyes scanning the bullpen. She took advantage of the relative quiet, taking him around the office and pointing out the various desks and departments, walking him through the editing process.

“My desk is over here,” she said finally, leading him toward her desk. He followed her, nodding as she pointed out various coworkers’ desks along the way. Her brow furrowed as she approached her desk. She knew she had left it clear, but a manilla file folder sat in the middle of the otherwise empty surface.

She reached for the folder immediately and flipped it open, eyes scanning the contents. It took her a minute to figure out what she was looking at, but once she did, a grin spread across her face. Jimmy had finally been able to hack into the financial files at the Metro Club. She skimmed quickly, past boring expenditures like staff salaries and overhead, then tapped an unfamiliar name: Beece, Inc. It appeared over and over, monthly payments.

She realized suddenly that Clark was standing beside her, waiting quietly.

“Sorry,” she said, giving him an apologetic grin. “Give me a second to look this over? Jimmy’s been promising me this for weeks. He must have finally had a breakthrough last night.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile, and she felt a surge of affection for him. She sat at her desk and gestured to her guest chair. He sat in the chair beside her desk, casually surveying the room while he waited.

She returned her attention to the stack of papers in her hand, but she couldn’t help sneaking a peek at him out of the corner of her eye. He was dressed in tan slacks and a dark green polo with the Midwest U. logo on the breast. It fit him perfectly, disguising the muscles she had glimpsed this morning. His hair had dried in soft waves, and for just the briefest moment, she imagined what it would feel like to thread her fingers through those locks.

She shook herself and forced her attention back to the documents. Under the financials was a preliminary workup on Beece, Inc., and Lois made a mental note to tell Jimmy she owed him one. The information was sketchy at best, but she skimmed through the public record of ownership and board members. Something about the names sounded familiar, but she would need time to compare the list against what she had so far, and she wasn’t going to spend her weekend elbows deep in boring research. It could wait until Clark had left town.

She opened her desk drawer and slid the file inside.

“Anything important?” Clark asked.

She shook her head. “It’s helpful, but I need to sit and dig through it. Nothing’s jumping out right away. It’s good progress though.”

Before he could ask any follow up questions, the conference room door sprung open, and reporters poured out. She glanced over at Cat’s desk and realized she must not be in for the day yet, which made sense given that it was a Friday. She’d probably be out late that night, working some society function, and wouldn’t roll into the newsroom for a few hours.

She was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment that she wouldn’t get to introduce her to Clark. Although a large part of her wanted to keep Clark away from Cat’s claws, some small part of her wanted to see the other woman’s surprise when Lois introduced Clark as the friend who she frequently emailed from the office. Although Cat purported not to care about Lois’ boring personal life, Lois knew the reality was that she was beyond curious about her “secret not-boyfriend”. She frequently speculated about the mystery man, jokingly listing all the things that could be wrong with him to leave him interested in Lois.

“Come on,” she said, standing. “I’ll introduce you to Perry.”

He stood and followed her through the bullpen to Perry's office, where she pushed the slightly-ajar door open and entered without knocking or waiting to be summoned.

“Chief?”

He was standing beside his desk, shuffling a thick stack of papers. He looked up, gestured needlessly for her to come in. “Lois,” he said. “I thought you were taking the day off. Don’t tell me you’ve already changed your mind.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I was just stopping in for a bit. I want to introduce you to someone. Perry White, Clark Kent. Clark’s the friend I told you about from the conference.”

Clark stepped forward and shook Perry’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m a fan of your work. A college professor of mine used to be a colleague of yours and spoke highly of you.”

“Oh?” he asked. “Who was your professor?”

“Eric Carlson? At Midwest University.”

“Ah, yes!” Perry said with a smile. “Carlson. We had some good times when we were just starting out together.”

Clark nodded, but before he could say anything more, a young man stuck his head in the doorway. “Uh, Chief? You decided on those photos yet? The guys in layout are asking for them.”

“Hell’s bells,” Perry muttered, shifting a bunch of stacks on his desk until he found the pile he wanted. He rifled through, choosing two of the photos and tossing them at the boy who cringed, and then caught the photos and took off with them.

Perry muttered something about departments that think they’re his only priority, then jabbed two fingers into his neck to check his heart rate.

“How’s that blood pressure monitoring going?” Lois asked, unable to keep the amusement from her voice. Perry’s doctor had apparently instructed him at his annual physical last week to start monitoring his blood pressure, but so far it only seemed to be increasing his stress.

“Blood pressure nonsense,” he muttered.

“Paava leaves,” Clark said, surprising both Lois and Perry. They turned to look at him, and he shifted nervously. “The Yolngu tribe of New Guinea eat paava leaves to reduce stress – puts them in a meditative state. Maybe you should try it.”

“Paava leaves,” Perry muttered, giving up on trying to measure his heart rate and dropping his hand from his neck. “Sounds like you’ve done some traveling.”

“A bit,” Clark agreed. “But this is my first time in Metropolis.”

“Well, I’m sure Lois will be an excellent tour guide, assuming you were hoping to spend your trip seeing the inside of police stations and meeting anonymous sources in Suicide Slum.”

“Haha,” Lois said sarcastically. “I’ll have you know we had dinner at Dinello’s last night, and we’re on our way to the Museum of Natural History.”

“Well, la-di-dah,” Perry said with a false air of snobbery. “Look who suddenly has some class. Don’t let her fool you, Kent. This one is as scrappy as they come.”

Lois rolled her eyes at him. “Is Jimmy around? I want to thank him for the research he left on my desk.”

“He’s photographing the ribbon cutting for the new library on the Southside. What research?”

“Metro Club financials. I’m still trying to figure out who’s in charge over there and if they have the Toaster’s weapons.”

Perry raised an eyebrow. “I thought I told you to shelve that. No fires for a few weeks.”

Lois shrugged. “I don’t think they’re done. I just have a feeling.”

Perry looked to Clark and shook his head, “I don’t know why I bother giving her assignments. If she wasn’t the best damn-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lois interrupted dismissively, an idea forming slowly. She looked Clark up and down, and then grinned at him. “Want to go out for drinks after dinner tonight? I know this great little club…”

Perry laughed and slapped Clark on the back. “Good luck, son.”

They talked for a few more minutes, and then Lois and Clark headed out. They chatted amicably about the exhibit they were going to see, a traveling display of artifacts from the Amazon River Valley, as they rode the elevator back down.

“You said you spent some time in the region, right?” Lois asked.

Clark nodded. “It was one of the first places I visited after I graduated from college. I wasn’t there terribly long. Just three or four months, but it was fascinating. I have to admit, I had no idea how big the river was before I went. I knew it was the largest river in the world, but I was still thinking…river. Like the Missouri or the Mississippi. But the Amazon is so wide there are islands in it as big as countries.”

“Wait, what?” Lois said, caught off guard.

Clark nodded. “The island of Marajo is bigger than Belgium or Switzerland, not to mention tons of island countries like Jamaica.”

“I had no idea,” Lois said, as they exited the elevator and walked through the lobby.

“During the dry season, the river averages two to six miles across, but during the wet season – which is when I was there – some parts are up to thirty miles across.”

“Thirty MILES?!”

He laughed, and she narrowed her eyes at him. He lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’m laughing because I was just as surprised. Who thinks of a river being thirty miles across?”

They had exited the building now, and were waiting at the corner to cross the street. Lois had parked the Jeep up a block, unable to find parking right outside the building and not wanting to deal with the employee parking deck for a short visit.

She glanced at the light and then back down, rummaging in her purse for her keys.

“I think in addition to the artifacts, there are displays about the wildlife,” he said. “I hope they have photos of the pink river dolphins. There was this pod-”

He stopped abruptly, interrupted by the sound of screeching tires and screams, and Lois’ head whipped up, keys dangling forgotten in her hand. She glanced automatically to her right, and was surprised to find Clark missing.

Movement in the street caught her attention, and she looked over just in time to see Clark yank a baby stroller backwards, out of the path of an oncoming cab. Beside him, a woman in her thirties stood frozen. The cab blew through the crosswalk, swerving wildly, and Lois could see a trail of cars and trucks scattered in its wake. The taxi driver, apparently startled to attention by the commotion, corrected his course and drove off.

“Did you see that?” a woman to Lois’ left asked, not talking to anyone in particular. “He just… That stroller… Oh my god, that baby almost….”

Clark was backing away from the stroller now. The shocked woman, who Lois assumed was the baby’s mother, spurred into motion suddenly, leaned in and pulled the unharmed baby from the seat, clutching it to her chest.

Clark looked around quickly, and jogged back to her side.

“What just happened?” she said. “One second you were standing next to me talking about river dolphins, and the next you’re…”

She trailed off, unsure how to even describe what she had just seen. Had he really just saved a baby from certain death?

Clark shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “It was nothing. I just saw the cab coming and that woman froze….”

“So you ran out into the street and yanked the baby out of the path of the oncoming car, saving its life?” Lois was incredulous.

Clark shook his head. “No. I mean…I guess. I don’t know? I just reacted. The woman wasn’t moving. Someone had to grab the stroller. I just did what anyone would do. I just happened to get there first.”

Lois looked at him dubiously. She waved a hand around vaguely. “There are a hundred people in this intersection. None of them grabbed that stroller.”

The light changed, and the crowd around them began to cross the street, the commotion already fading back to normalcy. Together they stepped off the curb, falling in with the crowd.

Lois looked at Clark expectantly, waiting for some sort of explanation, though she wasn’t sure what he could possibly say to explain what she had just seen. Clark shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from here, and she realized he was uncomfortable with the attention. Not only was he performing heroics, he wanted no praise or accolades.

This man never ceased to amaze her. Last night, he had charmed her with conversation, touching her with his quiet introspection. This morning, he had answered the door in nothing but a towel, leaving her agog at his physical perfection. And now he was literally snatching babies from the jaws of death. There was no way he was real. She must have hallucinated him.

“I just…wanted to help,” he said finally, shrugging awkwardly, as they stepped back onto the sidewalk.

She laughed, and shook her head, overwhelmed by emotions she wasn’t even sure she could name. She reached over, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. “You really are something, Clark Kent.”

Chapter Text

“I really don’t think I brought anything appropriate for a night club,” Clark said, opening the door to his hotel room.

Lois brushed past him, undeterred. She stopped at his bed and turned to face him. “Show me the options. We’ll find something. It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

Clark sighed, wondering where she found the energy. They had been in perpetual motion since nine o’clock that morning. A visit to The Daily Planet, a lengthy exploration of the Natural History museum, and a late lunch from a vendor as they walked through Centennial Park. They hadn’t stopped moving in nearly nine hours, and she was still whirling around him like a miniature tornado.

At some point over the course of the day, she had decided he would be the perfect person to accompany her to the Metro Club in her quest to find out more about the weapons used in the series of arsons she had been investigating back when they first started emailing. At first it seemed that she just wanted to hang out and see if they could stumble across any information about who was currently in charge of the organization, but as she ferried him back to the hotel room to survey his wardrobe options, she had begun rambling about financial records and finding evidence of where a monthly payment was going. And Clark was starting to wonder if this surveillance operation was turning into more of an undercover investigation.

He would have been lying if he said he was entirely opposed to the mission. He wanted to watch her in action, and imagining himself as her partner in the investigation was a bit of a rush. A part of him still wondered what his life might be like if his father hadn’t suffered his heart attack. If he had come home on his own terms and paid some dues, climbing the ladder of print journalism. Maybe he would be here, in Metropolis, hatching schemes with Lois and working with her on investigations.

He rolled his eyes at that fantasy. It seemed highly unlikely that a man whose strongest writing credit to his name was a piece about the mating habits of knob tailed geckos, published in the Borneo Gazette, would be partnered with someone like Lois Lane, even if he had been given a little more time to work on his resume.

Still, this was going to be fun. Besides, he figured, if she was determined to go down there and put herself in harm’s way, he would rather she do it when he was around to protect her.

Apparently he wasn’t moving fast enough for her, and Lois had begun sorting through the clothes in his suitcase, making herself at home. He shook his head and laughed quietly. She was a force of nature.

“Aha!” she said, pulling out a pair of black slacks and a gray button down shirt. “Perfect. No tie.”

He looked at her skeptically.

“It used to be pretty formal – strict dress code, real stuffy place. But whoever’s in charge now has been doing some updating. When I was there with Cat a few months ago, no one was wearing a suit or tie. And the entertainment acts had been updated too. No more chicken costumes.”

“Chicken costumes?” he said, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“You don’t want to know,” she said. “Just trust me, this’ll work. We just want to blend in, and that outfit will do the trick. I’m going home to shower and change. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

She was out the door before he could even consent. He looked at his watch. Just under two hours until she would be back for him.

He took a quick shower, washing off the grime of the city, and then sat on his bed in a pair of boxer shorts and flipped on the tv. The local news was on, and he watched for a while, making sure there was no mention of that morning’s miraculous save. He didn’t think anyone had been suspicious about his rescue that morning, but the usual anxiety had been sitting in his stomach all day.

He had seen the cab as it approached the busy intersection, swerving wildly, and had hoped the pedestrians would run for safety. He had planned to use his heat vision to blow the back tires, stopping the car before it could hurt anyone else. He just hadn’t anticipated the mother freezing in horror, paralyzed by her fear. As the taxi barrelled toward her, she stood still as a statue, eyes wide with horror. And Clark couldn’t just leave her and her baby to be sacrificed.

He had dashed into the road, trying to keep his speed to something that appeared human, and grabbed the stroller, yanking it back out of the path of the vehicle and knocking the mother to safety. As soon as the car was through the intersection, he’d ducked away, hoping not to garner too much attention. Still, he’d been terrified, anticipating Lois’ reaction.

To his relief, she hadn’t seemed suspicious at all. She had certainly been awed. And now that his panic had subsided, he could admit that the admiration in her eyes, the feel of her hand on his arm, her laughter as she told him he was really something…all of it had combined to make him feel as if he was walking on air. He had tried to minimize his actions, as he always did when he was caught in the act. But for the first time ever, he had desperately wanted to revel in the attention for just a minute.

All day he had waited for her to bring it up again, to press him for details on how he managed to get there so quickly. But it seemed that she was less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why. She wasn’t interested in the details of how he had done it, only with the fact that he had…while so many others had stood by. That made him feel guilty – he knew that he hadn’t been putting himself in harm’s way when he rushed into the road, and the other onlookers didn’t have that assurance. But then again, he was risking things she couldn’t even imagine, so maybe her praise was deserved indeed.

Satisfied that there was nothing on the news, he flipped through the channels until he found a rerun of an old basketball game, and he watched passively for a while, uninvested in the outcome, just content to watch the game.

Before he knew it, it was nearly time for Lois to return and collect him for their undercover shenanigans. He dressed quickly, not wanting to be caught off guard by her arrival again. He grinned, remembering the stunned look on her face as she blatantly assessed his body and obviously found it to her liking. Maybe running late hadn’t been the worst thing in the world.

He was standing in front of the mirror applying aftershave when she knocked. He strode quickly across the room and opened the door. She was wearing a red dress, cut low in the chest with multiple straps criss crossing her shoulders. The dress was fitted on top, showcasing her curves, and flared at the waist, the skirt falling loosely and ending well above her knee.

He was staring. He knew it, and he couldn’t stop himself. His eye traveled from her delicate shoulders, over the curves of the dress, down to her legs, which seemed to go on forever, and then back up again.

“I thought we were trying to blend in,” he managed to croak out eventually.

She blushed, a delicate pink spreading across her cheeks as she ducked her head and smiled at him. “You like it?”

“Lois, you look…. Are you sure this is a good idea? I thought we were supposed to be flying under the radar. I’m going to spend the entire night beating back your admirers.”

He was torn between wanting her to go home and change into something that wouldn’t have the whole club drooling after her, and wanting very much for her to stay in that dress and come hang on his arm the way she had done earlier.

She laughed, her blush gone now, her coy look replaced by a practiced nonchalance. But he could hear her heartbeat racing, and he knew she was affected by his compliment whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

He nodded and stepped out, letting the door swing shut behind him. He rested a hand on her back, guiding her down the hallway and through the lobby out into the evening.

“Just follow my lead when we get there,” she said. “I don’t know what we’re going to find. We’re just going to have to play it by ear.”

On the way to the club, she filled him in on what little information she had about the Metros, rehashing some of her previous experience with them. Their last known leader, the woman who had funded the Toasters back when Lois was undercover in the establishment the first time, was still in jail, and there was no clue from her research thus far of who was in charge currently. Lois didn’t think she was running things from prison, and her brother, from whom she had wrestled control of the gang before her downfall, was still persona non grata, and hadn’t been spotted in the club since Toni took over.

When they arrived, the club was bustling with customers. A few couples were seated at high top tables scattered around the space, but most people stood, lingering with drinks or dancing on the dance floor in front of the stage where a man in a tux crooned old standards.

They ordered drinks at the bar and then slowly began to circulate. Lois pointed out a few notable patrons – a city councilman, a disgraced businessman, a federal judge.

One table, off to the far right of the stage, sat in shadows and Lois squinted, trying to see if she could recognize the man seated there with a woman draped on either side.

“I wish I could get a better look at the guy at that table,” she said softly.

“Do you think he might be important?” Clark asked.

Lois shrugged. “He could just be some random sleazeball. But the way people keep coming up to the table to talk to him makes me suspicious that he’s someone important. He could be a member of the Metros, or even the leader. No way to know if I can’t put a name to the face, or even see his face. If I could just see him better… Come dance with me.”

“What?” he said, startling at her sudden change of topic.

“Dance with me,” she repeated. “If we dance over on that corner of the dancefloor, I can get a better look at his face, and maybe I’ll recognize him.”

She grabbed his arm, and began tugging him out onto the dance floor. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart, and slid his arm from her eager grasp.

She looked up at him in confusion, and he smiled at her. “You don’t have to twist my arm,” he teased, moving his hand to the small of her back and leading her out onto the dance floor. In the dim light of the club, he couldn’t be sure, but he thought she blushed again.

He took her in his arms, wrapping one arm around the small of her back, holding the other hand aloft beside them and smiling as she slipped her hand into his. She raised her other arm, resting her hand on his shoulder, and he smiled at her as he began to lead her around the dancefloor.

The singer finished his current song and slid seamlessly into another, and Clark forgot all about the undercover mission and Lois’ desire to dance so she could get close enough to identify the familiar-looking man in the corner of the room. All he could see was her, smiling up at him with a look in her eyes that seemed perilously close to adoration.

“Where did you learn to dance?” she asked, her fingers stroking his shoulder gently in a way that made him forget how to speak. Three hundred and forty-seven languages, and he couldn’t think of a coherent sentence in one.

She raised an eyebrow playfully, and his grin widened, his ability to speak returning to him.

“I learned from a Nigerian princess,” he told her.

She laughed, delighted. “You’re lying. That can’t be true.”

“Cross my heart,” he said. “She studied ballroom dancing in England.”

“I’m not sure if I should be jealous or grateful,” she teased, and his heart tightened in his chest.

“You have no reason to be jealous. Ever,” he confessed. The words were out before he could stop them, and he waited for her to withdraw, to remind him with her actions if not her words that this was just a platonic friendship, that this chemistry between them was best left unacknowledged.

Instead, she beamed at him, and then her eyes slid away as if she was as overwhelmed by the intimacy of the confession as he was. She stepped closer, resting her head against his shoulder, and he tightened his grip on her waist. He could die happy with her in his arms like this.

They danced silently for a minute, and then out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the table they had allegedly come onto the dancefloor to the monitor. The man Lois had said looked familiar was standing, stepping out of the shadow that fell over the table and stepping out into the light.

He spun her so she was facing the table. “Your man is on the move,” he said softly.

She pulled back immediately, not out of his arms, just surprised and reacting to what she had seen.

“It’s Johnny,” she whispered, clearly shocked.

“Johnny?” he asked, not following.

“Johnny Taylor. Toni’s brother. The former leader of the Metro gang. According to every source I have, he hasn’t been seen here in nearly two years. I thought he had left Metropolis altogether.”

They watched as Johnny began to circulate the room, stopping to talk for a minute here or there. He approached the bar, and was handed a drink before he said a word, the bartender obviously familiar with his order.

“Well, I didn’t expect that,” Lois said. “I need to get in the back. See if I can find some confirmation that he’s in charge. Or maybe find out more about those payments to Beece, Inc.”

“The back?” he said.

“Come on, while he’s distracted,” she said, stepping back and walking off the dance floor without looking back.

His arms felt empty with her sudden absence. He followed her off the dance floor, and through the dark club. She lingered for a minute at the door to the back, waiting for the coast to be clear. He slid his glasses down, looking through the wall to the hallway beyond. She started to go, and he reached out, putting his hand on her arm and stopping her with his touch. She looked up at him questioningly.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Before she could ask why, a pair of cocktail waitresses burst through the door, trays of drinks in their hands.

“How did you-?” she asked.

“I heard them coming,” he whispered. “Go ahead.”

She slipped through the door, and he followed closely behind, making sure no one saw them.

“This way,” she whispered, grabbing his arm and leading him down the hallway. She made a beeline for a closed door, opening it and pulling him through, closing the door behind them. He looked around, surveying the room quickly and realizing it was an office.

Lois was quickly but methodically searching the desk. He wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for, but she seemed to hit pay dirt suddenly, holding up a disk victoriously. A quick glance told him the disk was labeled “Beece”, the name of the company the club had been making payments to monthly. Lois seemed convinced it was a shell company and key to her investigation.

She set the disk on the desk and continued her search. Just as he was about to ask what she was looking for now, he heard voices approaching in the hallway. He listened quietly for a moment, hoping they would pass by. He slid his glasses down a tiny bit and looked over the top rim. In the hallway, two bouncers approached.

“Who knows,” one said, replying to a question Clark hadn’t heard. “All I know is he said it’s in his office. It can’t be too hard to find.”

He spun around and grabbed Lois’ arm. “Someone’s coming,” he hissed. “Now!”

He heard the door knob rattle, and before he could process what was happening, she was in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands threading through his hair, and pulled him to her, slanting her lips across his.

He was too stunned to react for a second, and then her lips moved against his and instinct took over. He raised a hand to her cheek and tilted his head, his lips pulling at hers gently. His heart raced as his lips clasped hers again, tugging insistently. He started to pull back, and she whimpered, destroying whatever was left of his coherent thought process. He pressed forward, capturing her willing mouth yet again, his tongue darting out instinctively to taste her.

When he had kissed her goodbye in Miami, his lips had barely brushed hers. The kiss had been as brief and as chaste as possible. This was something wholly different — passionate and intimate — and his heart was racing.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a voice broke in, and suddenly he remembered where they were.

He pulled his lips from hers, lingering just a moment when he saw her head tilted back, eyes still closed, as if she too was not quite ready for this ruse to be interrupted.

He spun to face the two bouncers, instinctively putting his body between them and her. “Uh, sorry,” he said. “We didn’t mean to… We were just looking for someplace a little more private… We’ll just get out of your way.”

He grabbed her and propelled her past the bouncers and through the doorway, into the hallway.

“Not so fast!” one of the bouncers said, following them into the hallway.

“Sorry about that, fellows,” he said, keeping his body between her and them, grateful she was facing away from them now. He gave them a lascivious grin and gestured to Lois’ back. “Did you see that dress? Can’t blame a guy for wanting a little privacy.”

They lingered in the doorway to the office, still stunned, and he moved quickly, putting some distance between them. And then they were back on the floor of the nightclub, slipping through the crowd.

He wasted no time, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd and out the door. He listened as they walked, and was relieved to realize that they weren’t being pursued.

Night had fallen while they were inside, the duskiness of earlier fading to the inky blackness of night. Once they were a few doors down, he slowed his pace and turned to face her.

She was grinning ear to ear.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She laughed. “Of course. What a rush. I thought for sure they were going to call for Johnny. Nice job talking your way out of there.”

His mind flashed back to the feel of her lips on his, his mind still reeling. “I can’t believe that worked.”

“Thank goodness you were there. I’m not sure what explanation I’d have given for being in that office alone.”

Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be her partner on every investigation. If there was any chance of her needing a cover, he wanted to be one she pretended to share a fleeting moment of passion with. In a perfect world, it wouldn’t be pretend and it wouldn’t be fleeting. But he would take what he could get.

“We made a pretty good team,” she said, almost as if she could read his mind.

“I’m just sorry we had to rush out of there so fast you didn’t have time to get your evidence. Now we’ll never know what was on that disk.”

“This disk?” she asked, fishing the black square from her purse and holding it aloft.

“How?” he asked, amazed yet again.

“Never underestimate the importance of a quick sleight of hand,” she said with a smile.

“A little bit of magic?” he teased.

“There’s no such thing as magic, Clark. And a good magician never reveals their secrets.”

Chapter Text

Lois surveyed the jumble of broken pottery in front of her, trying to make heads or tails of the art installation.

The complimentary tickets she had scored to this event from the Daily Planet’s Art Desk had seemed at the time like the perfect way to wrap up their weekend together. The artist was all the rage, and Diana had assured her that the event would be edgy and fun, not stuffy and boring.

She and Clark had started the day with brunch at Callard’s, a new restaurant that had opened recently near her apartment. And then they had spent the entire afternoon playing tourists, doing both a walking tour of the city and a boat tour of the harbor, cramming as much as possible into their last day.

They had skipped dinner, since the event boasted heavy hor d'oeuvres, and had spent the last hour wandering aimlessly from one baffling art piece to the next desperately looking for waiters carrying trays of anything that looked remotely palatable.

“I don’t get it,” Clark said skeptically. “How does this represent World Peace?”

“I think you have to open your mind to the artist’s inner feelings,” she replied.

Clark raised an eyebrow and gave her a dubious look.

She cracked up, unable to fake it any longer. “You got me. It looks like someone dropped it on the way in and decided to just display the shards and pretend it was intentional.”

They walked to the next installation, a sculpture made of rusted car parts, looked at each other, and started to laugh.

Clark’s flight left early the next morning, and Lois knew that when they said goodbye tonight, she wouldn’t talk to him again for a month, until he returned from his travels. She felt herself already dreading their separation and reluctant to end their evening early, even if they both had clearly had enough of this exhibit.

“You know what I really want to do?” Lois said conspiratorially.

“What?” he asked.

“Ditch this place, go home, change into something comfortable, and watch a bunch of movies.”

Clark moaned in appreciation. “That sounds amazing.”

Lois grinned. “Let’s do it!”

They locked eyes for a minute, and then turned and scurried toward the exit. They began to laugh as soon as they were outside on the sidewalk.

“Thank god,” Clark said. “I couldn’t take another minute of that.”

“I know! And I’m starving,” she whined. “I wish I knew a good place for Chinese takeout.”

“I think the doorman at my hotel said something about knowing a bunch of good takeout locations when I checked in,” Clark said. “Why don’t you drop me off, and I’ll get changed, grab us some food, and take a cab back to your place. Meanwhile you can grab some movies and go home and get comfortable?”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, and it truly did.

Thirty minutes later, she was parking her Jeep and carrying a stack of Mel Gibson movies into her apartment. She tossed the movies on the coffee table, and then went to her room, kicking off her heels and peeling off her jeans and the tight top she’d changed into for the art gallery opening.

She stood for a moment in her underwear, staring into her closet. She wanted to get comfortable, but her heart rebelled at the idea of spending the evening with Clark in her shlumpiest sweats.

It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. Clark was just a friend. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She didn’t need to look attractive tonight.

Despite her protestations, she could feel her pulse pick up when she thought about spending the evening cuddled up with him on the couch.

They had always been physically affectionate with each other — even in the very beginning when the amount of time they had known each could still be measured in hours. Her mind flashed back to the conference – his hand on her back, his arm around her shoulders. Surely it was reasonable to imagine they would sit the same way on her couch tonight.

And that was fine. Right? That was just the kind of friends that they were. Friends who sat close and hung on each other’s arms and danced…and kissed.

Good god, that kiss yesterday. She blushed just thinking about it. It had been a ruse at first, a desperate attempt to justify their presence in the back office at the Metro Club. She hadn’t thought twice about grabbing Clark and kissing him. She had known instinctively that he would understand her motivation. And it worked. They had escaped unharmed and with the disk that she couldn’t wait to explore.

But somewhere along the way, between launching herself at him and the moment he pulled away to respond to the surprised cries of the bouncers, she had completely lost control of the kiss. His lips had moved against hers, warm and insistent, and it had been intoxicating. And she had abandoned all pretense that the kiss was just a cover, responding immediately and passionately.

When he had pulled back, pretending to be surprised by the interruption, she hadn’t had to fake her own surprise. Her muscles had liquified, and she was limp in his arms, barely able to open her eyes let alone form any sort of coherent explanation for the bouncers. Thank goodness he had done all the talking, because she wasn’t sure she could have put two words together.

They had made a mad dash out of the club and down the street, and soon she had recovered enough to joke with him about the disk she had managed to pilfer on the way out. But internally, she was still reeling from the feel of his lips on hers, desperate for him to kiss her like that again, and terrified by how badly she wanted that.

They had ended their night after their aborted evening at the club, and as she waited for him to meet her at the restaurant the next morning, she had worried that things between them would be awkward. Not just because of the kiss, but because the whole evening had been charged – from the moment she picked him up at his hotel room when he’d made no effort to hide his attraction to her, to their dance at the club when she had melted in his arms, to that explosive kiss, to the way he stroked her cheek so tenderly when he’d said goodnight. The whole night had been a cascade of emotions, and she was worried that things between them would feel awkward in the morning light.

But Clark had appeared ready for a day of tours, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and his trademark grin. He hadn’t mentioned the night before, except to joke that he was happy they had made it out safely and weren’t spending the day receiving an unwanted tour of the underside of the city. The tours had been far more fun than she had anticipated, and Clark had soaked up every bit of random trivia, whispering asides to her about similar landmarks in other cities he had visited over the years.

By the time they’d split up to shower and change for the art gallery event, her nerves had subsided completely. He was her best friend again, no longer a threat to her self control.

The art gallery had been a disaster, but together they’d found the hilarity in the event, and she couldn’t say she was sorry they had attended. She was thankful, however, that they had made their escape, and she was looking forward to a casual night at home for their last evening together after being on the go for three days straight. Tomorrow he would be gone and her life would go back to normal. Lois shook her head. She wasn’t ready yet to think about him leaving.

She was still standing in front of her closet, no closer to being dressed than when she had first stripped off her clothes.

This was ridiculous, she told herself. It was just Clark. She walked over to her dresser and grabbed a pair of soft gray pants and a matching racerback tank top. Casual and comfortable. Perfect for watching a movie with a friend.

She returned to the living room, giving a quick glance around to make sure it was tidy, and then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure what to do while she waited for Clark. Finally she decided to open a bottle of wine, and she was just pouring it into two glasses when she heard the knock at the door.

“Coming!” she called.

She carried the glasses into the living room, along with some plates and napkins. She set them on the coffee table besides the video tapes, and made her way quickly to the front door. She felt a flutter of nerves suddenly, realizing this was the first time Clark would be in her apartment, since all weekend they had met at his hotel room or out in the city.

She shoved it down, hastily unlocking each of the five locks, and swinging the door open. He was wearing gray athletic shorts and a snug black t-shirt, the hems of the sleeves rolled up above the bulge of his biceps. Her eyes went immediately to his arms, the muscles flexed as he held the stack of bamboo baskets in front of him.

“Come in,” she said, shaking herself out of her stupor and stepping aside.

He stood beside her, watching with amusement as she relocked each of the locks. “That’s quite a security setup you have there,” he teased.

“I suppose you don’t even lock your front door,” she parried.

“I…usually remember to lock it,” he said with a grin.

“Let me guess…you keep a spare key under your mat?”

“No!” he said, with a mock offended look on his face. “It’s under the flower pot.”

She laughed, reaching for some of the food baskets, and leading him into the living room. “You wouldn’t last a minute in Metropolis, farm boy.”

“Eh,” he said lightly. “I don’t know. I think I could adapt.”

Her heart fluttered at the thought of him there in her city all the time. “I uh, got some movies,” she said, suddenly flustered. She gestured to the stack of videos in black rental cases. “I know how much you like Lethal Weapon. I got all three, so we could start with one. Or two. Or there’s three. It’s sort of stupid at the beginning, but it gets better.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused by her nervous babbling. “One would be great,” he said finally.

She set the baskets of food on the table and grabbed the top video, glad to have something to do to keep her hands busy. She turned her back on him, sliding the tape into the VCR and taking a slow deep breath. She turned on the tv and turned the volume down so they could talk over the movie in the background while they ate.

When she turned back around, he had the baskets spread out, and she was surprised by the variety. Everything looked delicious. She joined him on the couch and plucked a dumpling from the nearest basket, popping it into her mouth.

“Mmm, this is amazing,” she said. “And it’s still hot. Where in the world did you find this? I’ve lived in Metropolis my whole life, and I’ve never managed to find Chinese food this authentic.”

He looked embarrassed for a moment, and she wondered about it. He was a strange one sometimes.

“I guess I just got lucky,” he said. “It was just a tiny little hole in the wall near my hotel. I forget what it was called. The doorman recommended it.”

“Well, you need to get me the name or address from the doorman before you check out.”

“Try the duck,” he said, holding out another basket and handing her a pair of chopsticks.

She plucked out a piece skeptically, not normally a fan of duck. But as soon as she slid the bite into her mouth, she was converted. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. She opened them just in time to catch the heated look on Clark’s face, and she grinned at him. He looked away, busted, and she took pity on him, passing him the basket of dumplings.

They ate leisurely, commenting occasionally on the movie or a particularly delicious dish. Eventually, when they were completely stuffed, Lois gathered up the leftovers and carried them to the refrigerator.

She grabbed the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, and took it with her back into the living room, reaching for his glass. He handed it to her with a smile, and she refilled both glasses, leaving the bottle on the coffee table and walking back over to her side of the couch.

He had sat back in his spot while she was in the kitchen, draping his arm across the back of the couch, and she hesitated for only a moment before sitting directly beside him, close enough that their bodies touched. He curled his arm around her, his fingers stroking her shoulder gently.

She smiled to herself, pleased with her choice of a shirt, remembering that morning at the conference when he had touched her the same way, and she had wished he would trail his fingers lower, past her sleeve, to touch her bare skin.

She slid down in her seat and rested her head against his shoulder.

“Mel Gibson’s really good in these movies,” she said softly, nestling into his embrace.

“He plays a good wild man,” Clark said lightly. “Sometimes I think I should be more of a wild man.”

She leaned back and looked at him skeptically.

He laughed. “Pete even suggested I get a motorcycle…but I think he just wants to borrow it since Lana would murder him if he bought one of his own. He said I could wear a black leather jacket and pierce my ear.”

Lois shook her head, laughing.

“No earring?” he teased.

“Uh uh,” she said. “You don’t want to ruin your Boy Scout image.”

He rolled his eyes, still laughing.

“A black leather jacket might not be a bad idea though,” she said with a grin.

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean, if you want to go for the wild man look, without making any permanent changes…everyone loves a leather jacket, and black is definitely your color.”

She rested a hand on his chest, intending to draw attention to the black t-shirt he was wearing currently. But under the soft cotton, his muscles twitched at her touch and her mouth went dry, her hand aching to slide down and explore every one of the muscles she knew were hiding under that shirt.

“Is it?” he asked softly, his voice low and intimate, and she inhaled sharply, every nerve in her body on high alert.

She dragged her gaze from where her hand rested on his chest up to his face, and her breath caught in her chest. His mouth was inches from her lips, his eyes staring deep into hers waiting for an answer to a question, though not the one he had asked aloud.

There was nothing she wanted more in the world at that moment than to close the gap between them, to feel his mouth on hers without any pretense.

He breathed her name, and her heart clenched, a ragged breath escaping from her lips. He was leaving in the morning, a little voice reminded her. He was going to disappear into the jungles of Asia for a month and then he was going to return to his life in Smallville – his students, his team, his family.

He wasn’t coming back to Metropolis. He had a whole life in Kansas. And her life was here. There was no reality in which there was a future for them aside from friendship. And one kiss – and whatever might come after that kiss – was not worth losing his friendship, no matter how earth shattering it might be. And she was pretty sure it would be earth shattering.

He held her gaze, waiting for her to make a decision, and she felt herself waver. She exhaled, a soft whimper escaping her throat. And then she tore her eyes from his and twisted to face the television. “Movie,” she whispered. “We should watch the movie.”

His arm was still around her, and she curled into him, laying her head back on his shoulder. She lifted her feet and tucked them under herself, her knees falling to the side, her shins pressing against his thigh.

He was still for a second, and she wondered if this was too much; if he wouldn’t want to hold her like this after she had just sent him a pretty clear message about the boundary of their relationship. And then he tightened his arm around her and sighed, resting his cheek against the top of her head and resuming his gentle stroking of her arm.

Soon, the tension between them bled away, and they were laughing and chatting as the movie progressed. She nestled close to him, his fingers tracing random designs on her shoulder and arm as watched.

When the first movie ended, she tensed, worried for a moment that he might take the opportunity to leave and head back to his hotel. She knew he needed to leave for the airport early —early enough that he had insisted on taking a cab so she wouldn’t have to get up early and drive him — and after their whirlwind weekend, she figured he might be tired and hoping to get a good night’s rest before he left.

“Up for number two?” she asked, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.

“Oh yeah,” he said, immediately. “We can’t just end there. You promised me a movie marathon.”

She grinned and stood, her heart fluttering at the feel of his hand trailing down her arm as she pulled away. She stepped over to the VCR and swapped out the tapes.

When she turned back around, he was mid stretch, hand clasped above his head, eyes closed, rolling his neck from side to side. Her eyes traveled slowly from his hands, down his arms, to his chest, where his t-shirt was pulled taut.

Unlike earlier, when she had studied his body and found herself breathless with desire, this time the desire was tempered with affection. He was so strong, yet he was the gentlest man she had ever met.

The way he held her, the way he touched her, was almost reverential. His touch was generous, without any hint of pressure. At the first sign of hesitation on her part, he backed away immediately, freeing her from his embrace or stepping away to give her space.

Her brain understood all the reasons they couldn’t be more than friends, but her stubborn heart ached as it tried to imagine a way to make it work.

She knew it wouldn’t take much on his part to push her over the edge, to convince her heart to make an impulsive decision she would certainly come to regret. And the fact that he responded to her obvious wavering by waiting patiently for her to give an indication of what she wanted, rather than persuading her to do what he wanted, only made her want him more.

Behind her, the TV flared to life with a movie preview, and he opened his eyes and caught her looking at him. She felt her cheeks warm as she shrugged and smiled at him. He smiled back, not a teasing grin, but with sweetness and understanding. He opened his arms to her in invitation, and she went to him without hesitation.

Instead of curling up beside him again, she rested her back against him, sliding down until she was comfortable and resting her bare feet on the coffee table in front of them. His arm around her shoulders dangled awkwardly, too close to him for him to rest his hand on her arm comfortably.

She reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling his arm around her neck, his elbow resting at her shoulder, his hand just above her lap. She brought both hands to his, threading their fingers together and stroking the back of his hand with her free hand. Clark gave her a gentle squeeze, and she smiled and then sighed contentedly, settling in to watch the movie.

The movie opened, the red BMW screeching through city streets and into a tunnel while Mel Gibson exhorted Danny Glover to drive faster in pursuit, and Lois felt Clark chuckle behind her.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“I think they based this car chase scene on your driving,” he teased.

She made a sound of offended disbelief. “I am an excellent driver,” she insisted. “I’ll have you know I’ve never been in an accident. Okay, well, one accident. But that wasn’t my fault. The guy plowed right into me.”

“Did you go from doing eighty to a dead stop with no warning?”

She stifled a laugh, not wanting him to know how close he was to the truth. “I would never!”

He let it go, but as the movie progressed, they traded barbs and teasing comments, comparing each other to the onscreen partners’ least flattering characteristics. She couldn’t seem to wipe the grin from her face, unable to remember the last time she had so much fun doing something so simple.

But as the movie drew to a close, she felt herself start to shut down. It was late, and surely he would start talking soon about heading back to his hotel. Her heart ached, desperate for him to stay just a little longer, delaying the inevitable.

“Well, now you have to stay for the third,” she said, popping up to stand as the credits began to roll. “We can’t leave our marathon two thirds finished.”

She grabbed the last video, popping it from its black box and heading toward the tv, avoiding his gaze.

He didn’t respond for a minute, and she began to feel guilty. It was really late and he had an early flight. If he wanted to go, she shouldn’t pressure him into staying. She hit the rewind button on the VCR, and looked hesitantly over her shoulder, expecting to see him preparing to make his exit.

Instead, she found him gazing at her with a longing that matched her own.

“Yeah,” he agreed, the cheerfulness in his voice ringing hollow. “Definitely. We can’t stop now.”

She swallowed thickly and blinked, willing herself not to cry. They’d had a wonderful weekend. She wasn’t going to ruin it now with tears. Besides, he was only going to be out of touch for a few weeks. And she was going to be so busy while he was gone, she would barely have time to miss him. Before she knew it, he would be back in Smallville, and they would be back to their routine of daily emails and long, chatty phone calls on the weekends.

She turned back to the machine, ejecting one movie and replacing it with the next.

She turned slowly and made her way back to the couch. She sat beside him, cross legged, her knee pressed against his thigh, a little space between them for the first time all night. Her spine was straight, her body stiff, already imagining the goodbye that was coming. One more movie, and then he was gone.

She tried not to imagine it, but her heart knew that after this weekend, even having him back in Smallville would be hard. She loved his emails, full of chatty stories and teasing asides. She loved their long, late-night chats, diving deep into discussions about books or philosophy or their personal histories. And she was looking forward to a return to those things after his summer abroad. But now, having had him beside her, knowing what it could be like if they lived in the same city, even the knowledge that he would be home again in a month felt like cold comfort.

He slid his hand onto her thigh, just above her knee, and squeezed gently. His thumb stroked her skin gently, slowly, and she knew he was feeling the same reluctance to end their time together. She rested her head against his shoulder, and tried to focus on the movie, shoving aside all thoughts of goodbyes.

It was after midnight by the time they finished the third movie. At some point during the last movie, Lois had wound up on her back with a pillow under her head at one end of the couch, her legs laying across Clark’s lap. His hand closest to her rested on her thigh just above her knee, while his other hand had crept slowly, almost unconsciously, under the loose hem of her pants and was stroking her calf gently. The dark of the room, the drone of the television, and his soothing touch had lulled her almost to sleep by the time the credits began to roll.

“I should go,” he said quietly. “It’s late.”

“I’ll drive you back to your hotel,” she said drowsily.

He smiled at her, and squeezed her leg affectionately. “I’ll get a cab,” he said. “You’re almost asleep. I don’t want you driving.”

“That’s my Boy Scout,” she said, closing her eyes for just a minute, focusing on the feel of his touch against her leg. She realized belatedly exactly what she said, the way she claimed him.

She opened her eyes tentatively, not sure how he would react to that, and found him gazing at her, smiling sweetly. Her heart clenched. He was everything she had ever wanted. Smart and sweet and interesting and kind. And he treated her better than any man she had ever dated. She hated that there were so many miles between them, hated whatever force of fate had teased her with his existence, taunting her with what could have been in another lifetime.

“Come on,” he said softly, lifting her legs from his and gently swinging them to the side so she could plant her feet on the ground. “Up you go.”

He stood and reached out a hand to her. She took it, letting him pull her to standing. They walked together to her front door, lingering for a minute, neither of them quite ready to say good night.

She leaned against the door frame, looking up at him. “Thank you for dinner,” she said. “For this whole weekend. I’m so glad you came.”

“Lois,” he said, his voice thick with the words he wasn’t saying. “I had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting me. We should do it again.”

She nodded, wanting to do it again every weekend for the rest of her life. She felt the tears prick at her eyes, and he shook his head.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to do, what to say…”

“I’m sorry,” she said, swiping at her eyes and giving him a watery smile. “We had such a nice weekend, and now I’m ruining it.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek, a motion that was coming to feel all too familiar. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. When she opened them again, he was gazing at her.

“You aren’t ruining anything,” he said gently. “I don’t want to go either. But…”

“This weekend just went so fast,” she said, trying to steady herself. “And now you’re going to be gone for a whole month. I don’t suppose you’ll have email access in Borneo.”

He laughed softly, withdrawing his hand and letting it fall to his side. “No, no email in Borneo. But I’ll call you as soon as I get back, I promise.”

She nodded, hushing the voice in her mind that told her that wasn’t enough. “It’s late,” she said. “Sorry you won’t get much sleep before your trip.”

He shook his head, dismissing her apology. “It was worth it,” he said softly.

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her to him. She could feel his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and imprinting the smell of him on her heart.

Finally, she pulled back, and he relaxed his arms immediately, freeing her. She hesitated, and then leaned forward again, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good night, Clark,” she said, leaning back against the door frame and letting her hands slide down his chest to rest gently against his stomach.

“Good night, Lois,” he said softly, and she saw him think, and then think twice, about kissing her. Then he nodded to her one last time, and reached for the door. “Don’t forget to lock these after I leave.”

She cracked a smile, the tension between them eased just a bit. “I never forget to lock my door, farm boy,” she teased. “This isn’t Smallville.”

He beamed at her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. And then he nodded a final goodbye and slipped out the door.

She fastened each of the locks slowly, and then turned and leaned back against the door and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

Chapter Text

Clark sat silently on the thick tree branch a hundred feet in the air. He leaned back against the trunk comfortably, watching the scene before him in amusement. Two female orangutans shared a meal just a few yards away in a durian tree, stripping the skin from the large fruit and chewing generous bites before spitting out the seeds.

Both the females were mothers, and their infants had started the meal sleepily clinging to their mothers’ backs. But now their curiosity had gotten the best of them, and much like human toddlers, they were climbing all over their mothers, reaching for the food, and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

He laughed as he saw the mothers finally snap, gently chiding their babies until they ran off to play together, chittering and chasing.

Immediately, and instinctively, he thought that he couldn’t wait to tell Lois about these orangutans. It was the same thought he’d had yesterday when he watched a group of proboscis monkeys splashing and swimming in the river. And the day before, when a brilliant rainbow stretched over the treetops.

She was everywhere he went, whether he was alone in the canopy like he was now, or at a crowded street market in the capital city, or chatting casually with old friends in their home over a shared meal.

It had been a week since they said goodbye, his heart aching as she wiped away tears.

When he had arrived in Metropolis for their scheduled visit, he had convinced himself that no matter what he felt for her, he was deluding himself if he thought she felt it too. He needed to just be grateful for her friendship and have fun during their time together.

And then it took her only forty-eight hours to turn his world upside down.

She hadn’t just laughed with him, and confided in him, and sparred with him the way she did in their emails and phone calls. She had also cuddled with him and held his hand and gazed into his eyes with a longing that couldn’t be misinterpreted no matter how hard he tried.

There was a moment, when she was in his arms on the couch laughing about his wild man image, when he was sure she was going to kiss him. They had paused, frozen, inches from each other, and the look in her eyes made his heart skip a beat.

And he knew. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him, didn’t want to be with him. She was holding back, scared to leave the safety of their friendship for a romantic relationship. He knew she had been hurt in the past, and he knew she was skeptical of long distance relationships.

He also knew – by the way she reacted to him – that she was attracted to him. He knew she cared for him. But that moment, that was when he understood that whatever was holding her back was as painful for her as it was for him.

When they lingered in the doorway of her apartment saying their goodbyes, his heart had been so conflicted by her tears. He hated to see her cry. He ached to see her so vulnerable and pained. And yet…she was crying for him. Because she wasn’t ready to let him go. Because she wanted more time with him. Wanted…more…with him. It had filled him with hope.

And now, a week later, she filled his mind day and night. He was haunted by her touch, her sweet scent, the taste of her mouth.

The thought of going another three weeks without talking to her was almost unbearable. But he had no other option. He couldn’t just go back. He had been planning this trip for months. He had made plans with friends he hadn’t seen in years. He looked forward to this month of freedom all year long.

Even if he could cut his trip short, even if he wanted to do that, that wouldn’t solve his longing for her. He couldn’t just go back to Metropolis uninvited, unexpected. So he would have to go home. He couldn’t give up this month of travel and exploration that fueled him all year long for the opportunity to call her and hear her voice on the phone a few hours every week.

But he longed for her. He ached to tell her how he felt. To share his adventure with her. To share his life with her.

The orangutan mothers finished their meals and called for their babies, who came scampering back. Clark watched them settle themselves on their mother’s backs, and then the mother’s swung through the trees, searching for another source of food or perhaps for a quiet place to rest in the afternoon heat.

Clark floated out of the tree, drifting aimlessly around the canopy for another half hour before deciding to head out himself. He shot skyward, gliding over the Danum Valley Conservation Area, avoiding the areas he knew were frequented by tour groups, and then zipped to the hut where he was staying this week, a property owned by a friend of a friend. It was small, but more comfortable than his accommodations the last time he had stayed in the area.

He tossed his pack on the bed and then turned to face the small desk that sat beside it. He hesitated, an idea forming, but unsure if it was brilliant or terrible.

Then he thought again of the tears in her eyes, her lips against his cheek. If there was even a chance she was missing him as much as he was missing her, this could be their lifeline.

He opened the single desk drawer and pulled out a notepad and a pen. Then he took a deep breath and began to write.

Dear Lois,

It has only been a week since we said goodbye, and already I’m wondering how I thought I could go a whole month without hearing your voice.

I knew that I would miss you. But I didn’t know that every day there would be something that reminded me of you. Everything I see or taste or hear, I want to share with you.

I have tried to convince myself that I can wait three more weeks to share these experiences and thoughts with you…and maybe I could. But I don’t want to. This trip has been wonderful so far, but it would be better with you. Everything is better with you.

I have no access to phones or email here, but I have pen and paper, and an unceasing desire to write to you, so here we are….

When I was here five years ago, I spent months searching the forests for proboscis monkeys. They are endangered and sightings are increasingly rare, and though I searched off and on for months, I was never able to spot them in the wild. And then yesterday, I hiked into the forest with no agenda, and almost immediately stumbled across a troop of at least twenty, splashing and playing on the river bank. I watched them for an hour, in awe of what I was seeing.

Suddenly they began to screech, first one and then another until finally the whole troop was howling and scrambling for the shore. Finally I spotted the source of their panic: a crocodile, only his eyes visible above the water.

I understand the circle of life, the delicate balance of predator and prey within the food chain. But in that moment, I could think only of the monkeys with their funny noses and round bellies, and how happy and peaceful they had been before the crocodile’s approach.

I watched, holding my breath, as the troop scattered into the trees, their distress calls echoing around me. The last to exit the water was a young monkey, not a baby but perhaps a teenager. I couldn’t help but imagine that he had delayed responding to the distress call, too cool to show fear or worry – the same bluster I see on my students’ faces so often as they wave off concerns about their futures.

The crocodile lunged, snapping his teeth, but the monkey was just fast enough to escape him. His feet hit the sandy shore and propelled him across the beach to the tree line. He scaled the first tree in his path, then swung from branch to branch, almost as if he was taunting the crocodile.

I had a moment of sympathy for the crocodile then, knowing it was going without a meal, and that it was not evil, but just doing what it was created to do. But it was fleeting. My heart was with the monkeys. The crocodile can find another meal.

Today I found the orangutans I’d been expecting to see yesterday. They are more solitary animals, but not territorial, and I watched two females feasting on fruit while their offspring played together.

They seemed so human – the mothers just trying to eat and have a moment of peace, while the babies climbed them and stole bites of food. Some of my earliest memories are of my mother and Lana’s sitting at the kitchen table with cups of tea, shooing us back outside as we returned again and again to beg for snacks, and I couldn’t help but see those memories from a different perspective as I watched the tired and exasperated looks on the faces of the mother orangutans.

There is something so humbling about sitting quietly in the forest watching the animals. It reminds me of our conversation on the top of Met Tower, when you said that being so high above the city humbled you because the people below were just living their lives without sparing a thought for us.

As I was sitting yesterday, watching the monkeys splash in the water, I was thinking of that conversation. And I was reminded of a poem, written during the first World War.

There Will Come Soft Rains
By Sara Teasdale

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

When I studied that poem in college, I remember my classmates talking about how depressing it was to think that mankind could disappear without a trace; how futile it felt to believe that nothing we do matters in the grand scheme of the universe.

But I thought it was beautiful and comforting. Because no matter what horrors we visit upon ourselves, no matter how big our mistakes, the world goes on. And not just limps along, scarred and damaged, but thrives and flourishes. No matter how cold the Winter, Spring comes again.

When I imagine what you are doing while I’m gone, I know you are working hard. I love your drive, your determination, your ferocity. You refuse to just watch the world. You demand that it be a better place, and because of you, it is.

But I hope you are also finding moments to rest, to recharge and repair your heart. I hope you remember that night above the city and the universe’s permission to take a breath and rest awhile.

I loved every minute of our weekend together. My only regret is that we didn’t have more time.

I miss you, and I can’t wait to hear your voice again.

Clark

Before he could talk himself out of it, he folded the letter and slid it into an envelope from the desk drawer. He addressed it quickly, and then stepped outside and shot upwards, curving an arc over the South China Sea and landing with a thump in a quiet alley in Kuala Lumpur.

It didn’t take him long to find a post office, his heart in his throat as he handed over the letter. He tried to recall again exactly how she had looked at him when they said goodbye; the feel of her arms around his neck, clinging to him like she never wanted to let go. She would welcome his letter. He had to believe she would.

He stepped back outside the small building and took a deep breath. He felt better, more relaxed, having spent the last hour with her by proxy. Even though it would be a week or more until she received his letter, and weeks beyond that before they could discuss it, he felt closer to her just for having written it.

Before he had walked more than a block or two, he heard cries of distress. He paused, listening for a minute, and realized he was overhearing a robbery. He ducked into an alley and shot skyward, dropping back down behind a phone booth a half mile away, and darting out just in time to see the woman who had screamed, scrambling to hand over her purse to a man with a knife pointed at her. She was in shock and moving slowly, fear rendering her uncoordinated and clumsy, and Clark could see the man with the knife growing impatient. He took a step forward.

Clark lowered his glasses and aimed a concentrated beam of heat vision at the knife, heating the metal to scorching. The startled would-be robber dropped the weapon in shock.

The woman looked from the man, to the knife, back to the man, and then turned around to run, nearly crashing into a uniformed police officer. The officer assessed the situation quickly and moved in to make the arrest.

Clark smiled to himself and turned away, the shocked ramblings of the arrested man fading as he walked casually in the opposite direction.

He wandered the city streets, enjoying the sights and sounds. He loved the anonymity of being in a big city. It was so much easier to help and then slip into a crowd of strangers and disappear.

He made his way to the local food market, sampling the fresh fish and snacking on sweet pancakes filled with crushed peanuts and corn until he had his fill.

A display of postcards in a shop window caught his eye, and he thought of Lois again. He found himself inside without conscious thought, picking out a handful of cards for her. He flipped through the options carefully, choosing cards that showcased some of his favorite regions and attractions. And he imagined her smile as she opened her mailbox to find these reminders that he was thinking of her.

****

Clark floated gently to the water’s surface, breaking through and floating on the waves. The sun shone brightly, and he took a deep breath, and imagined he could feel his cells recharging.

After a while, he rose above the waves, floating in midair and allowing the sun to dry him. Eventually he drifted back to the beach, found his pack and spread out a blanket on the sand.

He lay back in the sun, smiling as he thought about the brightly colored fish that had played peek-a-boo with him in the coral reef, and the elusive octopus he had watched melt into the rocks, its entire body morphing in color and texture until it was almost entirely indiscernible.

Yesterday he had spent all day visiting island after island, dropping in for a drink or lurking to watch the size of the crowd. He hadn’t known exactly what he was looking for, only that he would know it when he saw it.

And he had.

Finally, just a short ferry ride from the city of Surabaya in eastern Java, he found her island. It was just as she described, beautiful and sunny, but private. There was no hotel, only a series of huts, each equipped with modern amenities, ringing the beach. In the center of the island, there was a restaurant and an outdoor bar, each staffed by locals, along with a small building he assumed was the administrative offices and front desk.

It was late afternoon, and the bar was far from crowded, but the bartender was as busy as he was likely ever to be, and Clark had ordered a drink and an appetizer, sitting at a small table off in the corner. He had eaten slowly, savoring the delicious food and the sweet drink, and had thought that he could see her here in a sundress, and a floppy hat with a paperback in one hand and a drink in the other. He ached for her then, dreaming of a future where they could visit together, where he could lay beside her on the beach talking about everything and nothing and sleep all night with her in his arms.

After he had paid his tab and made his way across the shared part of the island, a sudden movement caught his attention. A young couple was exiting the main building, a small paper gift bag in hand, and he realized there must be a small store inside.

A quick scan confirmed it. It was just the basics – some over the counter medicines, sunscreen and aloe, hats and towels. And there, by the counter, a rack of postcards.

He had smiled and shook his head, unable to resist. He found the perfect card, a sweeping photo of the beach showcasing a single hut and a couple lounging in chairs on the beach. They were facing away from the camera, but the woman wore a floppy hat, just as he had imagined her doing. He asked the woman working the register if he could purchase a stamp and mail it there, and she nodded eagerly in confirmation. He purchased the card and the postage and smiled his thanks as she handed him a pen.

He paused for a moment, trying to condense all the things he was feeling into such a tiny space. Finally he jotted down a single sentence and handed it back to the woman at the register, slipping out of the building and into the shadows before leaving the island altogether.

Today he was on a beach of a different kind, one of the Spratly Islands, a chain of a hundred tiny uninhabited islands in the South China Sea between Borneo and Thailand. The various islands were claimed by at least three different countries. But those claims were rarely acted upon, and the islands were almost entirely as they had been for hundreds or thousands of years, unspoiled by human hands.

Here he could relax entirely, free not only from the responsibilities of his job and his family, but free also from the worry that someone, somewhere would see him do something suspicious. Freedom to be fully himself.

This month every year gave him the opportunity to use his powers more freely. He thought nothing of floating up into the canopy, bouncing from island to island, popping over into the next country for dinner. He allowed himself to help those in need more freely, moving on before anyone could become suspicious.

But his time spent in uninhabited spaces was a step even beyond that. Here he didn’t have to look or listen or take any precaution at all.

It was the only time he was ever able to use his powers so openly, so naturally. The only time when he was fully, completely, himself.

He thought of her again, suddenly and without warning. Imagined her here with him. And then the familiar longing in his heart turned to worry. He tried to imagine telling her about himself – his origins, his abilities, his secret. Was it even possible to share this part of himself? He had never told anyone. Ever. And he couldn’t even imagine how he would start. How he would ever be able to say the words aloud.

“I’m not from here,” he said softly, hearing the words out loud for the first time in his life. “I was born on a dying planet, in a galaxy so far away that humans haven’t yet discovered it.”

He shook his head sadly, imagining her confusion.

His father’s voice rang in his ears. “They’ll lock you in a lab and dissect you like a frog.” The never-ending refrain of his childhood. His father was a good, kind, loving man, and Clark knew he had only been trying to impress on his young son the importance of keeping his differences a secret. But his stomach still turned every time he heard that phrase.

He wanted so badly to believe that he and Lois had a future together. That it was possible for him to have all the things he ever dreamed of – love, a family, a home with a partner who loved and accepted him exactly as he was.

But in order to have that kind of relationship, he would have to risk everything. Not just his heart, but his life, and his parents’ safety.

That had been a scary enough prospect in theory, when the woman he imagined telling was nameless and faceless. But now, he tried to imagine handing that precious, guarded secret to the country’s best investigative reporter and shuddered at the thought.

She was kind, and good, and he knew her goal was not to ruin the lives of innocent people. But if she believed the world had a right to know that an alien walked among them – an alien with super-human strength and abilities – she would feel compelled to do what she thought was right, even if it pained her to do it.

But maybe, with enough time, if their relationship grew, there would come a point when she wouldn’t feel that the public had a right or a need to know. He wanted to believe that they could reach a place in their relationship where she would guard his secret rather than expose it.

He sighed and tried to recall every sweet moment between them. Her head on his chest, her lips on his cheek, her fingers entwined with his. He tried to imagine the woman who laughed with delight as he spun her around the dance floor writing the article that ruined his life, and he couldn’t do it.

His mind drifted back farther, to their first weekend together, when the draw between them was so strong that she had changed her mind at the last minute and given him her number.

When his students had come flying into the conference room, eager grins on their faces, and announced that she was in the lobby and had asked them to find him, his heart had leapt. It was all he could do to walk down the long hall without breaking into a run. And then, when he had stood in front of her and said he had heard she was looking for him, she had whispered, “All my life,” and his heart had exploded.

It was that whispered confession, not meant for his ears, that had given him hope that she might feel the same things he did. It had given him the courage to call her, the drive to set up an email account to message her, the boldness to ask if he could visit her. And now he called on it again, to sustain him when he feared that the future he dreamed of with her could be his downfall.

Chapter Text

The frenetic energy of the Daily Planet’s bullpen had simmered to a dull hum, most of the reporters long gone for the day. Lois sat at her desk hunched over two thick stacks of documents. The sandwich she had purchased at the cafe across the street for dinner lay half eaten and abandoned beside her.

The disk she had stolen from the backroom at the Metro Club nearly three weeks earlier had been all the confirmation that she needed that Beece, Inc was a shell company of some sort. It purported to be a research and development division of Costmart, but public information about the company was impossible to find and all their banking appeared to be done offshore. She couldn’t prove it yet, but based on vague notes in the Metro Club files and the regular payments, she had a feeling the company’s true purpose was accepting and washing protection money.

If that was true, it was unhelpful in her search for the Toaster’s weapons, but a breakthrough in her investigation into Intergang’s ties to Costmart and Bill Church. Now she was scanning reams of financial documents from local nightclubs, restaurants, and high-end retails establishments looking for any record of similar payments.

“You need anything else before I head out?” Jimmy asked, dropping into the chair beside her desk.

Lois shook her head, not bothering to look up from her task.

“Heeeey, looking good!” Jimmy said appreciatively, and Lois looked up to see what had caught his attention.

“This old thing?” Cat said, giving a twirl and showing off the sparkly gold evening gown with a slit up the front so high Lois worried a stiff breeze would turn the newsroom into a scene from an x-rated movie.

“Visiting some fellow ladies of the evening?” Lois asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The mayor’s fiftieth birthday dinner, if you must know,” Cat replied, sliding into her seat and booting up her computer. She pulled a reporter’s notepad from her purse and dropped it on her desk, paging through it leisurely.

Lois went back to analyzing her financial records, highlighting monthly payments of $5000 to an unnamed company for “loss prevention” in the records of a prominent local restaurant.

Her email inbox dinged, announcing the arrival of a new message, and for a fraction of a second, her heart soared. And then she remembered. Her shoulders slumped and her heart ached, missing him with a sudden ferocity.

In the weeks that he had been out of touch, she had thrown herself into her work, spending hours each day on her investigations into the fires and Intergang in addition to the daily stories Perry assigned her. It felt reminiscent of last year, when she had spent every waking moment obsessed with Luthor.

Except that this time her heart wasn’t in it. She cared about her investigations and worked hard on them. But always in the background there was a hollowness; a sense that something was missing.

Deep down, behind her frantic work pace and her carefully guarded emotions, she missed him all the time. Every day. She missed venting to him about minor inconveniences, and hearing his laugh as she rambled. She missed listening to his stories about his family and his students. She missed the way her heart thrilled when she heard his voice over the phone.

His visit before leaving for his month abroad had given her even more things to miss: the feel of his chest beneath her cheek, the touch of his hand to the small of her back, the look in his eyes as he stroked her cheek.

And sometimes, like when she heard the chime of her inbox, or when her phone rang in the evening, the emptiness that she shoved down deep inside most of the time surged to the surface, and she ached for him.

Her inbox chimed again, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a playful grin spread across Jimmy’s face.

“Ooh,” he teased. “Aren’t you going to check that? In case it’s your secret boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lois answered automatically, not looking up from her work. “And it’s not him.”

“What’s up with secret not-boyfriend?” Cat asked with a practiced nonchalance. “He doesn’t email at six anymore. And you’ve been extra surly and sullen, even by your standards. You break up?”

Lois sighed, not in the mood to joke. “There’s nothing to break up. And if you must know,” she said, imitating Cat’s haughty tone of a minute ago, “he’s traveling abroad and doesn’t have email access.”

“For work?” Cat asked, suddenly sitting up a little straighter. Lois never offered information about her “secret not-boyfriend”, and Cat wasn’t going to miss a chance to pounce.

“Not for work,” she said. “He’s a teacher. He’s on summer break. He always spends July traveling.”

“He’s a teacher?” Cat said, incredulous.

Lois looked up, annoyed and defensive. “There’s nothing wrong with being a teacher.”

“It’s just not how I imagined him,” Cat admitted, and Lois cringed at the idea of Cat imagining anything about her personal life.

“How did you meet him?” Jimmy piped up, eager to join the conversation.

Lois hesitated, considering momentarily telling them it was none of their business and shutting down this whole line of questioning. But it felt so good to talk about him.

“At the high school journalism conference I spoke at a few months ago,” she said. “He was there with his students.”

“Wait, he’s not even local?” Cat said. “Where does he live?”

“Kansas,” Lois replied, running her highlighter over another transaction.

“KANSAS?” Cat replied. “Secret not-boyfriend is a high school teacher from Kansas?!”

Lois said nothing and continued highlighting. Cat’s speculation about her “secret not-boyfriend” had been a fun game in the beginning, but her banter tonight was just annoying.

“Seriously?” Cat said. “You’re not joking right now? He’s really a high school teacher from Kansas.”

“Why would I joke about that?” Lois snapped.

“Touchy, touchy,” Cat said, beginning to type up her article.

“So that’s why you needed to email so much,” Jimmy said, cheerfully oblivious.

Lois nodded, relaxing a little.

“And you haven’t heard from him at all since he left for his vacation?” Cat asked. Her voice lacked the incredulity of a moment ago. Lois looked up and saw Cat watching her with an expression that was almost gentle.

“He’s island hopping in Asia,” she said, going back to her highlighting. “He doesn’t have access to email or international phone calls. He’s been gone almost three weeks. He’ll be back at the end of next week.”

“You sure about that?” Cat asked.

Lois looked up sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cat shrugged. “I’m just asking. You sure he’s really out of the country for a month? He didn’t just want to break things off without a big fuss?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jimmy interjected. “My friend Brian is notorious for that. You should hear some of the crazy stories he’s told girls so he didn’t have to break up with them. This one girl, Natalie, banging body but super clingy, you know? Anyway, he tells her….”

Cat rolled her eyes as Jimmy continued his tone-deaf ramble. She gave Lois a questioning look, and Lois was surprised to see genuine concern in her eyes.

“I’m sure,” Lois said softly, and Cat nodded and went back to typing.

****

Lois stumbled through the door of her apartment, keys in one hand, bag slung over her shoulder, and arms full of additional files, a travel mug of coffee, and a precarious stack of mail. She walked to the kitchen counter and dumped it all, grabbing the mug before it could spill, and letting the stack of mail slide to the floor in the process.

She sighed in frustration. It had been a long day, and her conversation with Cat and Jimmy had left her melancholy and tired. She didn’t have patience for this.

She didn’t have patience for anything these days. Not that she had ever been known for her patience, but lately everything got under her skin.

She tried to pretend she didn’t know why — that it was work stress or hormonal. But the truth was, she missed him.

She didn’t begrudge him his trip. She knew he looked forward to this month all year. His travels were a huge part of his identity, an important part of life, and he immersed himself in them fully during the small window that he got each year.

She wanted him to enjoy every minute of his vacation. He deserved time away from his work and responsibilities.

But it hurt to imagine him gallivanting around the beaches of Borneo with friends and cheerful strangers, beautiful women in tiny bikinis draped across lounge chairs and barstools everywhere he went, knowing he probably hadn’t given her a second thought since his plane touched down.

And it frustrated her, how much that thought pained her. She didn’t want to care. He was her friend. Whatever attraction there was between them on top of that friendship, was an inconvenience. She wanted to be happy for him. She wanted not to care how he spent this month.

She knelt down on the kitchen floor and collected the scattered pile of mail, sorting the bills from the junk mail and catalogs.

A hand addressed envelope with a bright red international air mail stamp caught her eye, and she reached for it, her heart stuttering. She set the other mail back down and held the envelope in both hands, almost afraid to open it in case it wasn’t what she hoped it was.

She tore open the side and slid out a stack of three or four pages, unfolding them quickly.

“Dear Lois,” she read silently. “It has only been a week since we said goodbye, and already I’m wondering how I thought I could go a whole month without hearing your voice.”

She exhaled a little whimper, tears already pooling in her eyes. She darted a glance up to the top right corner of the page and saw that it was indeed dated eleven days earlier and he had written it only a week after arriving.

She shoved the mail aside and sat, leaning against her kitchen cabinets. She kicked off her high heels and planted her feet close to her body, resting the letter against her bent knees.

She continued reading, her heart in her throat.

“I knew I would miss you…everything is better with you…an unceasing desire to write you.”

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cabinets, not bothering to fight back the tears anymore. He missed her. He ached for her the way she did for him. He missed her so much that he lasted only a week before writing her a letter so beautiful the first three paragraphs had her in tears.

She laughed at herself, crying on the kitchen floor like the heroine in some overwrought romance novel, then wiped her eyes with the heel of hand and went back to reading the letter.

She smiled and shook her head at his tenderhearted concern for the monkeys, and the way he imagined the juvenile with the false bravado who nearly succumbed to the crocodile’s jaws as one of his students. She laughed at his newfound sympathy for his mom as he watched the annoying orangutan babies climb all over their mothers and beg for snacks.

And then her heart leapt in her chest again, when he quoted poetry to her. She laughed a pitiful, self-deprecating laugh. Poetry? How could she possibly be expected to resist a man who sent her poetry?

Her smile turned softer as he described their night above the city. And then she felt the tears well up again as he described her, and the things he loved about her.

By the time she reached his closing sentence, her eyes were full of tears again. “I miss you, and I can’t wait to hear your voice again.”

She sat for a moment, eyes closed, letter clutched tightly in her hand, and let herself bathe in the roiling sea of her emotions.

When she felt a little calmer, she reread the letter. And then read it again. Her heart still ached, but in a new way now. She missed him, but not with the sinking dread of before, with the excited anticipation of hearing his voice again soon. She couldn’t stop smiling.

This was crazy. What she was feeling made no sense. She knew it was crazy to dream of a future with him. This teacher from Kansas who made her want to break all of her rules. But this letter was unlike anything she had ever received. He was unlike any man she had ever known. And she was losing all ability to pretend that what she felt for him could ever be restricted to friendship.

She stood, brushing off her skirt, and set the letter on the counter. She bent back over to retrieve the abandoned stack of mail, and a postcard dislodged itself from the messy stack and tumbled to the counter.

She laughed and reached for it. The front featured a couple lounging on a beautiful, serene beach with the name of a resort scrawled along the bottom. She flipped it over and recognized his handwriting immediately. It was dated the day after her letter, and her heart leapt at the fact that he had been thinking about her again the very next day.

She shifted her gaze to his message and laughed with delight.

“I found your island. – CK”

***

Lois entered the lobby of her apartment building with a spring in her step, despite a busy day at work and a particularly challenging taekwondo class.

Work had been one frustrating incident after another – starting with Ralph spilling coffee on her during the morning meeting and ending with her story getting bumped because of breaking news after spending all afternoon breathing down the necks of her sources to get it done before deadline. All day she could see people eyeing her warily, waiting for her to explode, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her good mood could not be ruined.

Cat had looked at her suspiciously as she packed up her stuff for the evening with nothing more than an eyeroll when Perry announced that her story would have to run tomorrow instead. Lois had just smiled at her enigmatically and rushed off to taekwondo, laughing internally at Cat’s obvious confusion.

She pulled her keys from her pocket, and unlocked her mailbox. Unlike yesterday’s glut of mail, there was only one envelope inside, and Lois slid it from the metal box, assuming it was a bill. Her heart leapt when she flipped it over and saw the international air mail stamp.

She shut the mailbox door, locking it hastily, and practically ran up the two flights of stairs. She slammed the front door behind her, headed straight to her couch, and ripped open the envelope before she was even seated.

Dear Lois,

I hope you already received the postcard I sent yesterday, because I’m dying to tell you about your beach. I’ve been looking for it since I got here – examining every beach I come across or hear people talking about for all the things you asked for: an island, sunny and warm, without too many people but all the modern amenities. Sunny and warm is no problem in this region, but there definitely seems to be a trade off when it comes to privacy versus amenities.

I thought I might have found your beach twice before.

One seemed lovely during the day, busy but not overly loud – none of the gaggles of noisy kids I encountered on so many other beaches. But then the sun went down, and suddenly the whole place came to life. I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of your horror as you described the clubs Jimmy has dragged you to, and the rave he wanted you to attend. This definitely wasn’t your beach.

The other was perfect on the surface – crystal clear water, white sandy beaches, a quiet, professional crowd. The cabins were near the water and some were even right on the water at high tide, with swim up access. I thought it was going to be a winner…until I learned that there were communal bathrooms and no electricity in the cabins.

I had just resigned myself to the fact that this search was going to go on for the duration of my trip, and I was simply going to be forced to visit even more tucked away beaches – these are the sacrifices I was willing to make for you – when I found your beach.

It’s exactly as you described. The ferry ride from Surabaya runs only twice a day, so even though the amenities are not strictly for guests only, there don’t seem to be many outside visitors. There are only twenty-five huts on the island – each with all the creature comforts of home – and each on the beachfront with plenty of privacy from its neighbors. They offer a full room service menu, so you could, in theory, spend a whole week at the beach without talking to a single person aside from the person taking your orders. But assuming you don’t want to be completely anti-social, there’s a cute little outdoor bar that wasn’t crowded at all, and a restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating.

It was, truly, perfection. And I cannot even tell you how much I wished you were there to see it. The whole time I was there, you were all I could think about.

He went on, detailing some of his other adventures – deep sea fishing with his friends from the Borneo Gazette, scuba diving and exploring a coral reef, eating his way through the night food market in Kuala Lumpur. His descriptions were so rich and detailed, she almost felt as if she was there beside him.

This letter felt different in tone from the last, more friendly and casual. She smiled as she read, feeling almost as if they were in the middle of one of their long, chatty phone conversations.

By the time she had reached the end, she had almost convinced herself that she had imagined his emotion in the previous letter, reading something into it that she wanted to see. And then she read the final paragraph.

Every year when I take this trip, the days fly by, and I feel like I am clinging to them, trying to wring out every minute. The end always rushes at me, arriving before I am ready. But this year, I find myself longing for the end, ready to return home. A month seems endless this year. This place is beautiful. And I love it here. But I miss you more.

Clark

****

Lois slid into her seat and sat her coffee on her desk. She opened her bag and pulled out a thick stack of financial documents and sat them down beside the coffee. Something small and colorful was stuck between the stacks of black and white printouts, and she smiled when she dug it out and realized what it was. Her postcard. She let herself stare at it for a minute, a sappy smile spreading across her face as the words from his letter describing his search for her perfect beach played in her mind.

She started to put the postcard back in her bag, then stopped and hesitated for just a moment before propping it against the cubicle wall where she could see it while she sat at her computer.

Later that afternoon, when she was back from covering the latest in a string of armed robberies, she found herself staring at the postcard again rather than typing up her story, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cat eyeing her suspiciously.

Lois tore her attention away from the postcard and went back to typing. She didn’t give it any thought when Cat stood and started to walk past her desk, until she stopped suddenly and reached out, snatching the postcard.

“Rude!” Lois exclaimed, spinning around in her chair.

Cat had already flipped the card over and was reading aloud. “I found your beach. CK.” She raised an eyebrow at Lois. “Your beach?”

Lois huffed indignantly. “None of your business.”

“This is secret not-boyfriend,” Cat said – an accusation, not a question.

Lois stood and reached for the postcard. Cat jerked it back, over her head, like a schoolyard bully playing keepaway.

Jimmy happened to be passing at just the right moment, and he snagged the card, flipping it over to read as well.

“I swear, no one in this office has personal boundaries,” Lois ranted, snatching the card from Jimmy and putting it back where she’d had it. “What kind of person just steals someone’s mail and reads it?”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at her, and Lois threw herself into her chair, refusing to acknowledge his wordless but accurate accusation that she would not hesitate to do the same thing.

“So….” Cat said, drawing out the word slowly as she sauntered over to Lois’ desk and perched on the edge. “This explains your sudden mood improvement yesterday. Lover boy sent a postcard.”

Lois started to type, pretending to ignore her.

“It’s an awfully big mood improvement for just one postcard,” Cat said. “I don’t suppose there was something else….”

Lois refused to respond, but the heat in her cheeks gave her away.

“Aha,” Cat said, smiling broadly. “More postcards? No…a letter. Secret not-boyfriend sent you a love letter.”

“None of your business,” she said again, fully aware that her lack of denial would be accepted as confirmation.

“I guess it wasn’t a ruse to dump you after all,” Cat said, grinning as she walked back to her seat. “Which means the only other possibility is that there is something seriously wrong with this man.”

Lois looked up from her screen long enough to shoot her a glare, and then went back to writing.

“So what is it? He’s twice your age? Lives at home with his parents? Ugly as sin?”

Lois rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fully suppress her smirk. Cat was clearly dying for gossip, and it gave Lois great pleasure to deny her that. She could only imagine how shocked Cat would be if she knew the truth.

“When will he be back?” Cat asked. “Next week?”

“Friday,” she said automatically.

“Does school start back that early in Kansas? Or did he just run out of money?”

“Football practice starts the next week,” she said. “He’s the coach.”

Cat’s jaw dropped. “Secret not-boyfriend is a high school football coach from Kansas?” She cackled with glee, and Lois knew she was picturing a paunchy, middle-aged, backwoods hick.

Cat gathered up her things, leaving to cover…whatever it was she covered. And Lois watched with amusement as Cat continued to smirk and laugh under her breath.

“I’m out of here. Tell lover boy I said…good luck,” she said.

Lois rolled her eyes and scrolled back to the beginning of her now-completed article, preparing to read it all the way through and give it a rough edit.

She read the lede paragraph and paused, Cat’s words penetrating her brain. “Tell lover boy…”

It suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t have to wait a week to tell him what she was feeling. If she sent him an email now, he wouldn’t get it until he got home. But he had been sending her letters without any hope of a response for weeks, so why couldn’t she do the same?

She opened her email with a smile for the first time in ages, and immediately hit the button to compose a new email.

****

Lois sat at her computer on the following Friday afternoon, flipping through her notebook looking for the quote she wanted from her lunchtime interview with the arson investigator. In front of her, propped against the cubicle wall, six postcards were lined up in a row.

She finally found the quote she wanted, and turned back to her computer to add it to the story she was working on. Another building had burned yesterday, the same suspicious arcs of accelerant on the charred remains.

Yesterday’s story had detailed the blaze, the effort to put it out, and the damage done to neighboring office buildings. Today’s would focus on the link between this fire and the previous ones, a connection she hadn’t been able to make in her article yesterday because none of the arson investigators had been willing to go on the record about the accelerant.

Cat came in wearing an animal print dress that was so tight and short, Lois wasn’t sure how she was going to sit in it. She was fanning herself with a folding fan, and swooned into her chair.

“It’s so hot out there, I think I might melt,” she said.

Lois nodded, but didn’t respond. A full week of triple digits temperatures had everyone complaining. The air conditioning in the office was struggling to keep up, and Lois had just seen Perry haranguing Jimmy about getting someone from maintenance to look at it and make sure it was working properly.

Lois had long ago shed her suit jacket, hanging it over the back of her chair, and settling for wearing just the white silk tank with her gray pencil skirt, but she was relatively comfortable without that extra layer.

She glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. 2:12. Clark should be boarding his plane to Kansas now. Her heart twisted painfully, knowing he was in her city, so close, yet so far away.

A crazy, ridiculous part of her had considered momentarily meeting him at the airport so she could see him for just a minute during his layover. But she knew it was going to be tight for him, rushing through customs and hurrying to make his connecting flight.

She sighed and then smiled, looking over her postcard collection. The letters she kept at home, far too personal for any chance of public consumption. But the notes on the postcards were brief and cheerful, and she had begun bringing them in daily, brightening her cubicle, much to the delight of both Cat and Jimmy, who seemed to look forward to each new postcard almost as much as she did, peppering her with questions about his travels.

The letters were still pouring in too, almost daily, and though they were mostly chatty recounts of his travel adventures, they all contained at least brief mentions of how much he missed her, and the occasional snippet of poetry. The truth was, the letters were beautiful, but the fact that he wrote her daily said more than any flowery declaration could about the fact that he was thinking of her.

Yesterday, the book of Sara Teasdale poems she had special-ordered from her local bookstore had arrived, and she had picked it up on the way home and paged through it before bed. She had never heard of the poet before Clark had quoted her in his first letter, and she was intrigued to read other works by her.

Many of the poems were dark and angsty, and though Lois could appreciate their beauty, they didn’t speak to her like the one he had quoted. And then she stumbled across a tiny poem, just two stanzas long, that had started off playful and had ended up taking her breath away.

The Look

Strephon kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me,
And never kissed at all.

Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,
Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
Haunts me night and day

The kiss in his eyes.

She had inhaled sharply at that image, her mind immediately supplying a montage of Clark’s eyes, filled with more love or passion than any kiss she had experienced in her life: outside her hotel room door the first night they met…at the Metro Club as he spun her around the dance floor…on her couch during their movie marathon when she had told him black was his color…at her door, when they had said their goodbyes at the end of the night.

She still had no idea where this relationship was going. It seemed impossible that there could be a long-term future with him. But she didn’t want to go through life haunted by the kiss in his eyes.

She pushed away thoughts of kisses, and pulled up her email inbox, resolving to send him one last email before his arrival.

From: Lois Lane [[email protected]]
To: Clark Kent [[email protected]]
Subject: Welcome Home!
Date: July 28, 1995, 2:22pm

Clark,

Have I ever told you about my best snitch? There’s a reason we call him Bobby Bigmouth, and it doesn’t have anything to do with his loose lips. I spent all morning on the hunt for five perfect, loaded chili cheese dogs, only to find out he knows nothing more about these fires than I do. He better remember this the next time I need information and don’t bring him the right condiments for his burger or whatever else he finds to complain about.

Speaking of complaining, there was a new guy in my taekwondo class last night who watched me spar, and then told me I was strong “for a girl” but he didn’t want to spar with me because I might get hurt. He whined and whined when the teacher paired us, and when I refused to back down, he smirked and told me he wasn’t going to go easy on me. I wish you could have seen the look on his face when he found himself flat on his back on the mat.

She went on for a few more paragraphs, chatting about everything and nothing, just filling him in on the last twenty-four hours. Finally she ran out of things to tell him, and started to wrap things up.

You should be boarding your flight home to Kansas about now. I’m keeping busy, trying not to think about how close you are. Just a few more hours and we’ll both be home. If you haven’t already by the time you read this, call me. Please. Even if you’re too tired to tell me all about your trip tonight. I just want to hear your voice.

Lois

She hit send, and went back to her article.

“Me-ow,” Cat said softly a minute or two later. “Check out the new tight end.”

Lois rolled her eyes at Cat’s football pun. She hadn’t let up since she had discovered secret not-boyfriend – or “CK” as Cat and Jimmy both now called him – was a football coach.

She glanced up, following Cat’s predatory gaze to the elevators automatically, not really caring about Cat's latest conquest.

Her heart stopped. Her entire body froze. Her brain refused to process what her eyes were seeing.

He was here. He was standing in front of the elevators wearing tan slacks, and a blue and white checkered button down shirt, with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, and for just a moment she was transported back to Miami, to the day that had changed everything.

He smiled at her – a tentative, nervous smile – as if he wasn’t sure his unexpected appearance would be welcome. And she remembered that he had been sending his letters on faith, with no indication of her response to them.

She had just been thinking of him, longing for him. And now he was here. He was really here.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cat give her a puzzled look, but she couldn’t spare any thoughts for Cat right now. Every cell in her body was focused on him. She stood, still sluggish with shock, and he shrugged as if to say he couldn’t believe he was there either. He didn’t approach, just waited for her, and she realized suddenly he was still waiting for her answer. And then she started to run.

Chapter Text

The elevator doors opened, and Clark stepped out, still not sure he was doing the right thing. If his letters had been too much for her this summer, showing up uninvited and unexpected at her place of work was going to be worse than awkward. It was going to be inappropriate.

But the longer he had been away from her, the more he had missed her. Writing her letters helped take the edge off for a while, because he felt closer to her when he was writing to her. But then he would send them off into the ether, with no idea of how she was feeling as she read them, and once again he missed her with a ferocity that made him a little crazy. Crazy enough to make a detour to see her on his way home.

He knew he shouldn’t put her on the spot like this. He knew he should go home and call her, just like he had planned. But he had to know. He had to see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch. He had to know if she was feeling even a fraction of what he had been struggling with all summer.

And if she wasn’t…. If she didn’t…he needed to know that too. Because that was going to break his heart, and he needed time to heal before he could even attempt to resume his normal life.

He spotted her immediately. She was so beautiful, sitting at her desk oblivious to him, lost in her work. He could stare at her all day.

But then he saw the woman at the desk next to her say something, drawing her attention. And then suddenly her eyes were on his.

Her face was inscrutable, and for a moment his stomach dropped. And then he heard her heart begin to race in her chest, and her whispered, “oh my god” and he knew. He knew she was happy to see him.

He smiled at her tentatively, still not sure how she would react to his unexpected arrival at her work. She was shocked, he realized. Still processing his sudden appearance. He shrugged, waiting for her to give him an indication of whether he should come meet her at her desk or wait for her and go outside or…

And then she was running – across the bullpen, up the stairs, and straight to his arms, which he opened without hesitation or conscious thought.

She launched herself at him, and he laughed as he caught her in midair, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist and spinning her in a triumphant circle before setting her back on her feet. Her hands were in his hair, stroking his neck, caressing his face. Her face was lit up with joy and wonder. And he swore his heart would explode right out of his body.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice high and ragged, as if she was holding back a sob.

“My connecting flight was overbooked,” he said, wincing internally at the lie he had concocted as he lay in bed last night, desperate to see her again before he returned to Kansas. “I volunteered to take the next flight. I had three hours. I had to see you.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck again, and hugged him tightly.

He tightened his arms around her waist, and closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her in his arms, savoring every second. When she finally pulled away, she glanced around and blushed, obviously realizing they were on display, and most of her coworkers weren’t even bothering to hide their shock.

“Conference room,” she said abruptly, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the closest available room, not slowing down until the door was shut behind them. He tensed, wondering if this was the moment she retreated or lashed out, embarrassed by their public display.

But then she was in his arms again, stroking his face and gazing at him with a look that made him want to fly.

“Are you really here?” she asked with a laugh. “You’re not a hallucination? I didn’t just conjure you? Because I just hit send on an email to you not five minutes ago. And I’ve been counting the hours until your plane lands tonight. And now here you are.”

He laughed too, delighted beyond words. Her reaction was like something out of a dream, a fantasy, and he wondered suddenly if he should pinch himself.

“I’m really here,” he said instead, still laughing. Her hands slid down his neck and rested on his chest, where his heart hammered out of control.

His hand went to her cheek automatically, and he took a ragged breath. Every fiber of his being wanted to kiss her. But he knew they were being watched. The conference room blinds were open, and he could see a dozen pairs of curious eyes watching, and hear the whispers of her astounded coworkers.

He was dying to kiss her. But not here. Not like this. He tried to form the words to explain to her, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

“I know,” she said. “Just…come with me. I can’t leave. I have to finish this article I’m working on, or I’m not going to make my deadline. Come sit with me while I write. Talk to me. Stay with me.”

He nodded immediately, happy to be anywhere she was. He hesitated and then pulled her in for another hug, gentler this time. Lois rested her head on his chest, and he rubbed her back through the soft silk of her shirt, then rubbed her arm instead, wanting to feel her skin. She sighed contentedly, and his heart swelled in his chest.

Finally she stepped back and tilted her head toward the door. He nodded and reached for it, opening it for her and resting his hand on the small of her back as she walked through. He dropped his hand back to his side once they were through the doorway, following her to her desk wordlessly. He wanted to leave his hand on her back, or reach for her hand, but he was aware that this was her place of employment, and he had no idea what – if anything – she had told her coworkers about him.

Of course, if she was trying to keep her personal life private, flying into his arms in the middle of the newsroom was probably not the best way to do it, he thought with a smile.

As they approached her desk, the woman at the desk beside hers stood and sauntered over, reclining against Lois’ desk. Her dress was so short, and so tight, he couldn’t find a safe place to rest his gaze, and he trained his eyes on her face. This must be the gossip columnist, Cat, who Lois had described as “a lot”. He was beginning to understand what she meant.

“Hello, handsome,” she purred.

“Beat it, Cat,” Lois said. “He’s not interested.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Cat asked.

Lois waved at him and then at Cat. “Clark Kent, Catherine Grant. Cat is our resident gossip columnist,” Lois said dismissively.

“Society and entertainment,” Cat corrected, extending her hand with the palm down as if expecting him to kiss it. He shook it awkwardly instead.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Grant,” he said automatically. Cat wrinkled her nose at the formal title, and he saw the corner’s of Lois’ mouth twitch up.

He flashed back to the first time Lois had ever mentioned Cat, back when the two women had gone undercover at the Metro Club together, and he recalled the matter of fact way Lois had said no one looked at her when Cat was around. He reached for her, resting his hand on her back, his thumb stroking gently. She turned and looked up at him, and he beamed at her, eyes only for her. She blushed and smiled back at him, message received loud and clear.

“Well, it was nice to finally meet you,” Cat said, excusing herself and making her way back to her own desk without waiting to be acknowledged.

He reached for Lois’ chair, pulling it out for her, and she slid into it. Then he pulled her guest chair from beside her desk and scooted it closer to her before sitting.

His gaze shifted to her desk, and his heart squeezed pleasantly when he saw a half dozen of his postcards lined up along the cubicle wall. He turned his gaze to her, and she shrugged and smiled as if caught.

“They make me happy,” she said softly, and his whole body hummed with joy.

“There are more coming,” he said. “I sent you one every day, though a couple of times I had to skip a day and then double up because there wasn’t anywhere nearby to mail it.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You have no idea… I… They meant a lot to me.”

He nodded, a lump in his throat.

“Your letters…. They were so beautiful,” she continued, gazing at him in a way that made it really hard to remember why he couldn’t kiss her here. “The poems…”

“I’m teaching a poetry elective in the fall,” he said with a smile. “I’ll send you so many poems you’ll be sick of them.”

She laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

They gazed at each other for another minute, and then he took a deep breath and nodded toward her computer.

“What are you working on?”

Lois followed his gaze back to her computer. “Another fire. Yesterday. This is the follow up.”

“Another one? A warehouse?”

She shook her head. “Office building.”

“Have there been others while I was gone?”

She shook her head again. “This is the first in months. I knew they weren’t done.”

He smiled at her self-satisfied smirk.

“I never doubted you,” he said, earning himself a true smile. “Tell me more.”

Lois launched into a summary of the last month, outlining the information from the Metro Club disk and her investigation into the financial files of every club and bar she could get her hands on. Then she gave him a quick rundown on yesterday’s fire and her interview with the arson investigator earlier that day.

“So it’s definitely the same people,” Clark said. “Those arcs.”

“Yeah, and it’s got to be the Toasters. But where are those weapons?” She threw up her hands in frustration.

“Did you ever talk to the kids?”

She looked at him in confusion, brow furrowed.

“You said the original Toasters were just kids, right? You didn’t suspect them of having anything to do with this because they were just being used by Toni. And you’ve been trying to solve it by looking into the Metro Gang angle, assuming they wound up with the extra weapons.”

Lois nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“When they were arrested, they wouldn’t talk. But have you tried talking to them recently? They’re still in prison, right? It’s been a year. Toni’s in prison too. Maybe they aren’t scared of her anymore. Maybe they’ll be willing to tell you who they handed the weapons over to.”

Lois was quiet for a minute, thinking about it. Over the glass wall of the cubicle, he saw Cat pretending not to listen to their conversation, and sneaking glances at Lois as if she might explode at any second.

Clark remembered what Lois had told him, about her strong preference for working alone and her reputation around the office for being difficult to work with, and he wondered if he had overstepped.

“That’s good,” she said slowly. “That’s really good. Thanks.”

Cat’s eyebrows crawled so far up her forehead, they disappeared.

“Hey Lois! I got those photos-” A young man in a t-shirt in jeans skidded to a stop in front of Lois’ desk, a thick stack of photographs in hand. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy.”

Lois reached for the photos. “It’s fine. Clark, this is Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy, Clark Kent.”

Jimmy’s forehead furrowed as Clark stood and offered him his hand. Jimmy shook his hand, obviously still trying to guess who he was.

“Clark Kent,” Jimmy repeated. “CK? CK!”

Lois nodded, eyes still on the stack of photos she was flipping through now.

Jimmy clapped him on the arm with his free hand and began pumping his arm with enthusiasm. “It’s great to meet you, man!”

Clark glanced over at Lois, who shrugged bashfully when she felt his eyes on her. He smiled and turned back to Jimmy. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Hey, Jimmy, can you do me a favor?” Lois asked, setting the photos down on her desk, and pulling a file from her drawer.

He nodded immediately, and Clark sat back, studying their interaction. Lois always talked of Jimmy affectionately, even if she was venting about something he had said or done that day, and he knew she cared about him. He was glad to see that it seemed to be reciprocated, as Jimmy stood attentively waiting for Lois’ request.

She opened the file and jotted down a list of names of her notepad, then tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to him. “Call the New Troy Department of Corrections and see if you can get me an appointment to talk to any or all of them next week.”

Jimmy looked over the list and nodded. But before he could say anything else, his boss caught his attention.

“Olsen! You got those photos?” Perry yelled from the doorway of his office.

“Right here, Chief!” Jimmy said quickly. “Lois is looking at them.”

He reached for the photos, but Perry waved him off and sauntered over.

Clark stood as he approached Lois’ desk. “Mr. White,” he said, extending his hand, prepared to re-introduce himself.

“Kent!” Perry said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I found some of those paava leaves you recommended and my blood pressure is lower than it’s been in twenty years. Had to special order them from this crazy herb shop.”

“That’s great, sir,” he said, shocked that Perry remembered him and had taken his advice about the paava leaves. Over Perry’s shoulder, Clark could see Cat and Jimmy telegraphing their confusion.

“I talked to Carlson the other day,” Perry continued. “Planning our annual bass fishing trip. Mentioned you, and the guy couldn’t stop raving. Said you were the best writer he’d taught in years. He was pretty surprised to hear you were teaching. Said last he heard you were traveling the world, and he’d been expecting to get some reference calls from newspapers once you decided to settle down.”

Clark felt himself flush, both from the compliment and from the flicker of shame that his life hadn’t turned out the way he had planned. He loved teaching, loved his students, but sitting in this newsroom, talking to Lois about her story, he couldn’t help but wonder what other life he might have had.

“That was always my plan, sir,” he said. “But my dad got sick, and I had to go home and take care of my family for a while. I started teaching while I was home, and…”

He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. Normally he talked about his move home as fate: falling into a wonderful job and a beautiful home. It had all worked out so perfectly. But now he wondered if he had just allowed himself to be complacent — if he should have finished out one semester as Lana’s substitute and then started applying for reporting jobs. Even if he had started small, after four years he could have worked his way up and built an impressive portfolio. He might have options. Options that could make a future with Lois a real possibility.

“Well, that’s certainly admirable,” Perry said, then turned to Lois and held out a hand for the photos. Clark sat down, trying not to let this sudden feeling of melancholy overwhelm him.

Lois handed the photos to Perry, immediately offering her opinion about which photos to run, as Perry waved her off and flipped through them to look for himself.

Clark felt a hand slide onto his knee and squeeze gently. He looked over at Lois, surprised, and saw her watching him with a concerned look. He should have known she would sense his ambivalence, his regret.

He smiled at her, not willing to ruin this tiny window with any negativity. She smiled back, reassured, and she slid her hand back into her lap. He missed the warmth of her hand immediately and longed to reach out and touch her.

He listened quietly as she and Perry discussed the fire and her follow up story, sorting through the photos together and discussing some of the details.

“Still no suspects?” Perry grumbled.

Lois shook her head and sighed. “The police have nothing. I’m at a dead end with the Metro Gang angle. Johnny is back in charge, and I’m almost certain they are paying protection money to Intergang. But there’s no indication at all that they are involved in these fires. Clark suggested meeting with the Toasters and seeing if I can get anything out of them after all this time. Maybe a year in prison has left them more likely to turn on whoever has the weapons. I’m going to see if I can get appointments to meet with any of them next week.”

Perry raised an eyebrow. “Nice work, Kent. I see Lois has added you to her payroll. I warned you about going undercover with her to that club.”

“Wait a minute? Is she supposed to be paying us?” Jimmy quipped. In the background, Clark could see Cat’s head swiveling back and forth between them, clearly trying to figure out what she had missed.

“I heard it was your quick thinking that got the two of you out of the club without getting busted,” Perry went on. “Though Lois refused to tell me exactly how you managed it.”

Clark’s face went hot, remembering that kiss. “It was Lois’ idea,” he managed to reply. “I just…executed it.”

Beside him, Lois snickered. When he turned to look at her, he saw she was blushing too.

“How long you in town for this time, son?” Perry asked.

“Oh, just a few hours.” Clark looked at his watch. “Actually, I need to leave in about an hour or so to catch my flight. I just got bumped and had a longer than expected layover.”

Lois turned to look at him, and his heart fluttered at the longing in her eyes. He nodded at her in understanding. He had thought a few hours would take the edge of missing her, but now he was desperate for more time.

“All right, well it was good to see you,” Perry said, waving the photos in their direction and heading back to his office.

“I”ll go call the prison,” Jimmy said, excusing himself as well.

“An hour?” Lois said softly when they were alone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I-”

“I’m being ridiculous,” she interrupted, raising a hand to stop his apology. “I’m so glad you came. A couple hours is more than I expected. Let me see if I can get a rough draft finished on this article and then maybe we can take a walk before you have to head back to the airport.”

He nodded enthusiastically, hoping for a few minutes with her outside of the newsroom where all eyes were on them.

She returned to typing, and he read over her shoulder, smiling as he watched the words appear on the screen.

“That’s not how you spell accelerant,” he said automatically.

She turned in her chair to face him, mouth agape. “Watch it, Kent. You can be replaced.”

He laughed, and she lost her battle to look intimidating and began laughing as well. Around them, Clark could hear the swirl of whispers from her stunned colleagues, snippets of “Do you see this?” and “Who is that guy?” and “Mad Dog Lane”.

Lois went back to typing, a small smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. He watched as she backspaced and rewrote a paragraph, then erased it again. The smile disappeared as she typed it again and then sat back and looked at it, clearly not happy with the way she had worded it.

He leaned over her shoulder and pointed to the screen. “Pull this clause from the end of the sentence and put it at the beginning. Then make the sentence active instead of passive.”

She was silent as he sat back in his chair, and he wondered if he had gone too far. The tension around them was palpable as coworkers at nearby desks were quiet, waiting for her explosion.

She turned in her seat, grabbing the pencil beside her notebook, and throwing it at him playfully. “Do not edit my copy like I’m one of your students!”

Her smile belied her outraged demand, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Just try it,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the computer, but did as he suggested. She sat quietly for a minute rereading the paragraph with his changes.

“It’s better, and you know it,” he said with a grin.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Don’t get cocky, farm boy.”

But she left the paragraph as it was and went back to writing. He watched her work, not even bothering to try to hide his smile. He was so completely smitten. Head over heels.

After a few minutes, she finished typing and turned to him.

“Does that meet your expectations?” she teased, waving a hand at her screen, and he laughed.

“Everything you do exceeds my expectations,” he said softly.

She ducked her head and smiled, caught off guard by his flattery, and his heart swelled in his chest.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said, sliding her chair back and standing.

He stood quickly, placing a hand on the back of her chair to steady it. She led the way through the newsroom and up to the elevators, and he followed quietly.

When they emerged from the building into the hot midday sun, Lois flinched. “I forgot how hot it is out here. Maybe a walk wasn’t my best idea.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind the heat.”

“There’s an ice cream store up one block,” she said. “It might be swamped given how hot it is, but…”

“That’s a great idea,” he said.

His mind scrambled for what else to say. He didn’t want to waste this time. But there was so much to say and so little time remaining. He didn’t know where to start, and the longer the silence stretched between them, the faster his mind whirled.

Then he felt her hand slip into his, weaving her fingers between his. He looked over at her automatically, overwhelmed by his feelings for her.

“I missed you so much,” he said softly, without thinking, the truth just slipping out before he could stop it.

“I missed you too,” she said. “The letters and postcards helped. I’m sorry I couldn’t write to you.”

She paused, and he looked at her questioningly.

“Well, I did write to you,” she said with a nervous grin. “But I couldn’t send you letters, so they’re sitting in your email inbox.”

“You emailed me while I was gone?” he asked, suddenly overwhelmed.

“Just for the last week or so,” she said. “After I got your letters…I had so much I wanted to say.”

He squeezed her hand, unable to find the words to respond.

She tilted her head toward a storefront. “There’s the ice cream place.”

He opened the door for her, resting his hand on the small of her back and leaving it there as they approached the counter and began to peruse the options. The store was surprisingly empty, with just a handful of customers scattered around the tables and waiting for their orders. Soon they had their cups in hand and were settling as a table by the window.

“Butter pecan?” Lois asked, waving a hand at his order. “What are you, eighty years old?”

He laughed. “Oh, okay. Ms. Plain Chocolate? Like you really have room to criticize?”

“Chocolate is a classic!” she argued. “What is even the point of ice cream if you aren’t going to have chocolate?”

“Lois, there are at least ten different chocolate flavors up there,” he said, waving his spoon toward the counter. “Double chocolate, chocolate chocolate chip, Moose Tracks, dark chocolate caramel. But you go with just plain chocolate? You didn’t want to try…rocky road?”

“I’ve tried rocky road,” she countered, scooping a spoonful of ice cream. “It’s fine in small doses. But chocolate is my favorite. I want chocolate.”

“It’s not boring? You don’t get sick of it?” he asked, the playfulness of their conversation starting to take on a more serious quality.

“It’s not boring. It’s…dependable.”

“Dependable sounds awfully boring,” he said softly.

“It’s not,” she said firmly.

He slid his hand across the table and covered her hand with his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. She flipped her hand over in invitation, and he tangled his fingers in hers. He stroked her palm gently, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her heartbeat suddenly racing.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he felt breathless with everything unsaid between them. He slid his hand away and picked up his spoon, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“What’s the last letter you received?” he asked. “I don’t know how delayed they are.”

“You were telling me about the Indigenous music festival,” she said quietly.

“Oh, that was fun. They do it every year. I haven’t been since I was living in Borneo.”

They chatted casually about his travels while they finished their ice cream, and before he knew it they were back out on the sidewalk, and Lois was flagging down a taxi for him. His heart and mind raced, trying to find a way to draw out this visit, his emotions torn between the joy of being with her again and the agony of leaving.

A taxi pulled up to the curb and idled beside them. The silence hung between them as they tried to figure out how to say goodbye.

“I’m so glad you came. Even if it was only for a few hours,” she said, turning her body to face him. He rested his hand on her arm and nodded his agreement. “I was looking forward to talking to you tonight, but there would still have been a thousand miles between us.”

“Fortunately, there’s no distance between us now,” he said softly, watching her face, giving her a chance to back away.

“Fortunately,” she whispered. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and his heart leapt in his chest.

He tilted his head and lowered his mouth to hers. It was tender and gentle, and his heart ached with the sweetness of it. He pulled back just a few inches, his eyes still closed, savoring this moment. And then he heard the catch in her breath, and he knew she was feeling it too, and then their mouths were drawn back together like magnets. And it was still so sweet and so tender, but it was also needy and passionate and almost desperate. Finally. Finally. Finally.

The world spun around them as their lips clasped again and again. He raised his hand to her cheek, her hair like silk between them. It was everything he had dreamed it would be. Everything he had imagined, lying alone on an island halfway around the world. Everything.

They pulled apart slowly, and he rested his forehead against hers for just a moment before straightening. She was gazing at him with a soft, almost dazed look in her eyes, and he smiled at her. She started to speak, and then stopped, and he knew she was struggling just as badly as he was to find any words to say after that kiss.

“Yeah,” he said softly. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and cupped her cheek. Then he lowered his head and brushed a final kiss across her lips.

“Call me when you get home?” she asked tentatively.

“Count on it,” he said, stroking her cheek one last time and then withdrawing his hand. Then he slid into the backseat of the cab and closed the door, his eyes still on her as they drove away.

Chapter Text

Lois watched the cab pull away and then stood, frozen on the sidewalk, fingers pressed to her lips. That kiss. Wow.

It was easily, and without a doubt, the best kiss of her life. The only other kiss that rivaled it was the last time he had kissed her, ruse or no ruse. That kiss had melted her, left her a puddle in his arms.

But this kiss. This kiss was fireworks; the grand finale of a romantic movie with the swelling crescendo of the orchestra behind them. It was moonlight and roses and happily ever after.

And it was only the beginning.

She smiled a goofy, ridiculous smile and laughed to herself. She couldn’t believe that had really just happened. This whole week had been a whirlwind: love letters with poems, a surprise visit without warning, and then that kiss. Oh, that kiss.

She shook herself a little, aware that she was laughing like a fool on the sidewalk, and started walking back to the Daily Planet. She took her time, trying to give herself a chance to recover before she had to walk back into the newsroom and face the curious stares of her coworkers.

She didn’t even care what they thought. Let them speculate. But she needed to focus and get her emotions under control if she was going to make it through the rest of the day without making a fool of herself.

When she exited the elevators and began making her way down the ramp, she could feel every eye in the room on her. She studiously avoided them and went straight to her desk, pulling up her article and reading it from the beginning, making edits as she went.

She was halfway through when Cat appeared from wherever she had been prowling and slid into her seat, eyes on Lois. “You were holding out on me.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, but kept editing. “How do you figure?”

“A high school football coach from Kansas?”

Lois stopped typing and looked up, instantly defensive. “He IS a high school football coach from Kansas. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“He’s drop dead gorgeous. And apparently the best writer some editor friend of Perry’s has ever met.”

“Professor,” Lois corrected.

Cat looked at her confused.

“Carlson is a journalism professor at Midwest not an editor. He was Clark’s professor in college.”

“He has a degree in journalism?”

“He’s the advisor for the school newspaper. I told you that’s how I met him. At the high school journalism conference. His paper won a Pacemaker.”

Cat sat back and narrowed her eyes, watching Lois suspiciously.

“You didn’t tell me he was captain-of-the-football-team, take-me-under-the-bleachers-and-have-your-way-with-me hot,” Cat said, fanning herself.

Lois felt her cheeks flame. “Would you have believed me if I did?” she asked.

Cat eyed her for a minute. “Probably not,” she said finally. “Your taste is…questionable.”

“Is it?” Lois said with a self-satisfied smirk, turning her attention back to her screen.

“It’s possible,” Cat said grudgingly, “that your taste in men may be better than your taste in clothing.”

Lois didn’t bother trying to stifle the smile that spread across her face as she continued editing her story.

*****

The hands on her living room clock crept around the face so slowly, Lois was tempted to check for the third time and see if it was working. She glanced at the phone on the end table, willing it to ring, even though she knew it was too soon.

It had been five hours since he had left her, grinning and blushing, on the sidewalk outside the ice cream parlor. She had suffered through another two hours at work, trying to focus on her edits while her coworkers whispered and looked at her with undisguised curiosity.

Jimmy had grilled her almost immediately after her return to the office, tag teaming an interrogation with Cat about when Clark had been in the office previously, how Perry seemed to know him so well, and what Perry had meant about Clark going undercover and getting them out of a jam.

Lois had answered the easy questions matter of factly: he had come for a weekend on his way to Borneo, and she had introduced him to Perry when they stopped by the office. The rest she ignored, giving them an impish shrug, and secretly delighting in their begging for more details.

After work, she had stopped at the grocery store and ran a few errands, trying to kill time while he was in the air. She knew he had a three hour flight home, plus the hour drive from Wichita, and all the extra time involved in flights: waiting to board, claiming his bags, walking to his car, and so on. By her calculations, he wouldn’t be home until around eleven pm.

She arrived home around eight, and found both a postcard and a letter waiting in her mailbox. That had given her an emotional boost, and she had spent the next hour swooning around her house putting away her meager groceries and heating up a microwave dinner that grew cold as she sat at the table reading and rereading her letter.

He was in Indonesia now, the letter said, meeting up with yet another old friend. He had arrived just in time to catch the tail end of the month-long Jakarta Fair, and his letter was full of descriptions of the event. The postcard featured a photo of the fair, with vendors and food stalls and amusement rides.

After reheating and finishing her dinner and half-heartedly cleaning her kitchen, she had tried watching a movie, but her mind was unable to focus, and she had lost track of the plot and given up halfway through.

She had picked up her latest book instead, but couldn’t seem to retain anything. And now, after reading the same page three times, she decided to abandon it in favor of a glass of wine and a bubble bath.

The wine and bath had their intended relaxing effect, and she let her mind drift leisurely as she allowed their warmth to spread through her. It didn’t take long for her thoughts to drift back to him, and she found herself replaying that kiss over and over.

A small voice intruded on her pleasant daydreams, reminding her of the distance between them; the chasm between their lives. But she shoved it away, not willing to think of that right now. Later, she would worry about how they could possibly make this work. Later, she would allow herself to be consumed by the fear that he would break her heart. But tonight…tonight was only for happy thoughts. For reveling in her feelings for him and the knowledge that he felt the same.

Her bathwater grew tepid, and she pulled the plug and stepped out onto the soft mat, reaching for her towel. The luxuriously thick cotton was soft against her skin as she dried herself and then wrapped the towel around her body and released her hair from the clip that held it atop her head and out of the bath water.

She walked to her dresser and slid on a pair of panties, then pulled open her pajama drawer and reached automatically for the worn cotton t-shirts and pants she usually favored. But something stopped her tonight, and she hesitated, then reached for the other side of the drawer, where silk and satin pooled in a slippery pile. Her hand closed around a slate blue gown, simple but elegant.

She untucked her towel and let it fall to the floor, sliding the gown over her head. It was held up with the tiniest of straps, skimming over her curves and falling to the knee. She bent and picked up the towel, returning it to the bathroom, the soft satin of her gown brushing against her skin as she walked, making her feel lovely and pampered.

While in the bathroom, she decided to go ahead with her nightly routine, and she brushed her teeth and massaged moisturizer into her face. She reached for the lotion, rubbing it gently into her arms and then propping her legs one at a time on the rim of the bathtub and massaging it into them. She inhaled sharply at the unbidden thought of Clark massaging her with lotion, his hands gliding up and down her legs. Somehow she knew he would know how to apply just the right amount of pressure, just as he had known how to work his way gently but insistently into her life.

She finished and wandered back to the bedroom, climbing in bed and casting a longing look at the phone before reaching for the book on her nightstand.

It was after eleven now, but barely. Six hours. He should be home. Unless her calculations were off. Or his flight was delayed. Or…

A tiny kernel of fear twisted in her stomach. He would call tonight, she reassured herself, trying to ignore it. He would not have come to her work and swept her into that hug, and stroked her palm the way he had while they ate ice cream, and then kissed her like she was something to be cherished, if he didn’t want to talk to her. He would call tonight. And if he didn’t, he would have a good reason.

Count on it, he had said. And she could. Count on him.

Her eyes went to the phone again, her heart aching in her chest. Please, she thought, let her be able to count on him.

She returned her eyes, if not her attention, to her book and attempted to read the page for the fourth time.

She was halfway through the first paragraph when the phone rang. She dropped her book, startled, and laughed with joy.

“Hello?” she said tentatively.

‘Hi,” he said, his voice soft and warm. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I was just….”

Waiting for you to call, she finished silently. She hesitated, not willing to say out loud that to him.

“What did you do tonight?” he asked, letting her off the hook.

“Oh, you know…. I had dinner, took a bath, now I’m laying in bed reading a book.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then she heard him clear his throat.

“That sounds nice,” he said, slightly breathless. He was picturing her, in the bath and the bed, she realized, the breathlessness in his voice sending a shiver up her spine.

“I suppose,” she said impulsively, emboldened by his reaction. “Mostly I was just waiting for you.”

He exhaled noisily, then whispered her name with such undisguised longing that she couldn’t stop her answering whimper.

“I’ve thought of nothing else since I left you today,” he said softly. “I’ve been counting the minutes until I could call and hear your voice again.”

“I’m so glad you came,” she said. “I was so surprised to see you. I couldn’t even move for a minute. I couldn’t believe you were really there.”

He laughed, the mood lightening just the slightest bit.

“I was so nervous,” he confessed. “I had no idea how you’d react. I wasn’t sure if the letters were too much; if I was being presumptive by showing up uninvited. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t even know if you would be there – you could have been out working on a story.”

“Your letters weren’t too much,” she said. “They were perfect. They were…. I’m so glad you wrote them. So glad you came.”

They were silent for a moment, not awkward or embarrassed, just sitting with their feelings, each of them adjusting to this subtle shift in their relationship.

“This will spoil your last letter,” he said finally. “But yesterday I went diving, and you won’t believe what I found.”

“Tell me,” she said, immediately curious.

“In the Southern Sea, there’s a golden-lidded oyster that’s incredibly rare. They produce gold pearls, and the darker the shell, the deeper the gold of the pearl. They live all around the Southern Sea, but the really golden ones are farther north, up by the Philippines. Their rarity and the fact that it takes them four years to make a pearl makes them incredibly valuable, so there are golden oyster farms in the region. But I’ve always wanted to find one in the wild. When I lived in Borneo, I used to dive all the time, but I never found one, not even a light one with just a tinge of gold.”

“But yesterday….” she said, smiling.

“But yesterday I found one. And not one with the tinge of gold. It was solid gold. It was so dark, it looked fake. It looked like someone took a regular oyster and spray painted it gold. It was absolutely stunning. I wish you could have been there. I wish you had seen it.”

His enthusiasm was contagious. “That sounds beautiful. You must have been so excited.”

“I was thrilled,” he said. “It was definitely one of the highlights of the trip.”

“I got another letter today,” she said. “The Jakarta fair.”

He chuckled. “That was fun. It’s such a madhouse. I think the original purpose of the fair was to celebrate the city’s birthday through commerce. So there are lots of handmade and locally-made items for sale. That sort of thing. But over the years, it’s just morphed into this wild, month-long festival with every kind of vendor and entertainment act you can imagine. We saw everything from fire eaters and snake charmers to jazz bands and modern dance troupes.”

“That sounds really fun,” she said.

“It is. I love the excitement of the crowds. The energy. There are rides too. Not big roller coasters like at a theme park, but bigger rides than the kind you see at little traveling street fairs. Lots of twisting and spinning rides. And the high swings that spin around so you can see the whole festival beneath you. It made me think of our conversation above the city.”

She smiled, remembering that night, and then his letter about his memories of that night.

“I love those swings,” she said.

“Do you?”

“They were always my favorite when we went to amusement parks when I was a kid.”

“Really? I figured you for more of a roller coaster girl. You seem like a daredevil.”

“Oh, I was,” she said with a laugh. “I love roller coasters. I always have. But the swings were my favorite. They make me feel like I’m flying. I’ve always wanted to fly.”

He was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and contemplative. “Have you? Always wanted to fly?”

“Always. Did you ever play that game as a kid – which superpower would you rather have? Flying or Invisibility? I always picked flying.”

“You didn’t want to be invisible so you could spy on people?” he teased.

She laughed softly. “No. I mean, let’s be real, if someone offered me that power, I’d take it. But if I had to choose? Always flying. I used to dream about flying when I was a kid. I haven’t had that dream in years, but… Yeah, flying.”

He was quiet for a minute, so she pressed on. “What about you?” she asked. “Flying or invisibility?”

“Flying,” he said immediately, his voice low and sure.

“No doubt there?” she teased.

“None,” he said. He paused, and she could sense that he had more to say, so she waited patiently, giving him the space to find the words. “There’s such freedom in flight. Being able to go anywhere, see anything. And there’s something special about seeing the earth from above. The beauty of it, laid out before you. Nothing compares to it….I imagine.”

She hummed her agreement, and closed her eyes, imagining the sensation of flying. “I never thought about flying with someone,” she said quietly. “I've always imagined it as a solo activity. But it would be amazing to fly with someone, wouldn’t it?”

“Lois, I-” he said, his voice rushing out of him, almost pained, and then stopping abruptly. She opened her eyes and sat up straighter.

“Clark?” she asked, concerned about him.

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice calm and controlled again, the anguish replaced with a gentle longing. “You’re right. It would be amazing. I…I would love that.”

She closed her eyes again, letting his voice wash over her.

“It was nice to meet Jimmy and Cat finally,” he said. “Cat is…a lot. I see what you mean now.”

She laughed. “I told you so. She’s…something.”

“Is she always like that? Is she for real, or is that just an act?”

Lois hesitated. That was something she had pondered many times. “She is always like that. At least, that’s the only way I’ve ever seen her. But I’m not sure if she’s for real or if it’s just an act. I think it’s a little of both. I think she is…uninhibited and self-assured and…adventurous. But I wonder how much of that started as an act.”

She paused, considering her own career path, and the lonely way she had navigated it with all her rules.

“Journalism is such a boys club,” she went on after a moment. “It’s hard to find your way as a woman, especially when you’re first starting out. I made it by being hard and sharp and demanding respect, shredding anyone who commented on my appearance or joked about me using my feminine wiles to get ahead. Cat is successful in her own way. I give her a hard time about the types of stories she writes, but she’s good at what she does. And her path to success was the opposite of mine – she embraced her sexuality, flirted with every man in the office, and invited comments about her appearance and sexual prowess. I wonder sometimes if Cat and I are two sides of one coin. I wonder if she put on her armor the same way I did…she just chose a different armor.”

When she finally stopped talking, Clark was quiet, and Lois wondered if he had been disconnected or fallen asleep.

“Clark?”

“Sorry,” he said immediately. “I was just…. You are incredible.”

She blushed, caught off guard by his compliment. “I don’t…”

“I’m not sure what I expected you to say when I asked you that question…but not that.”

“People think I hate Cat. Because we spar in the office and make fun of each other. And there was a time when I genuinely didn’t like her. I didn’t respect her, and I thought women like her made things harder for women like me. Made it harder for us to be taken seriously. But I’ve realized a lot over the past couple of years about how she presents herself. She’s smart. A lot smarter than people give her credit for. And I think she crafted her image intentionally. She’s too savvy for it to be an accident.”

“That makes sense,” Clark said thoughtfully. “I’m sure most people lower their defenses around her. They don’t expect her to be a threat.”

“Exactly. I hardly ever tell her anything, but she always knows things about me. She just figures it out. She’s always watching, always listening. She doesn’t miss anything.”

“That’s fascinating,” Clark said. “Truly. It sounds like she’s a lot deeper than most people give her credit for.”

“I think she cares about a lot more than she lets on too,” Lois said. She paused and laughed.

“What?” he asked.

“She was worried about me when you were gone. She thought you were trying to ditch me…letting me down easy.”

“What?” Clark said, and Lois laughed at the incredulity in his voice. “She said that?”

“Not in quite so many words, but yeah. She asked if I was really sure you were out of the country. She said it teasingly, but I think she was checking on me. She was pretty thrilled – in her own way – when I brought in your first postcard.”

“That’s…I’m really not sure what to say about that,” he said.

“I know,” Lois said with a laugh. “I told you. She’s a lot.”

They were quiet for a minute, and Lois smiled at the comfortable pause in the conversation. Usually, unless she was interviewing someone, she hated the awkward pauses and conversation transitions. She was never sure what to say next or how to change topics without making things uncomfortable. Somehow she never felt that way with Clark.

“I bet it’s nice to be home,” she said. “After a month away. Are you going to spend the weekend settling in?”

“It is nice,” he said. “I love traveling, but it’s always good to come home. I don’t have any real plans this weekend, but I'll go to dinner with my parents on Sunday. And tomorrow I have to go to Pete and Lana’s at some point and do something with the kids. Sophie left me three messages on my answering machine while I was gone.”

“That’s adorable,” Lois said, her heart fluttering in the strange way it did anytime he mentioned his godchildren. “I’m sure she missed you.”

“Well, one whole message was just tattling on Caleb for a litany of crimes and asking if she could move in with me because no one in her family loves her and she only loves me. And the next was her telling me never mind, she decided to stay because her mom rented The Lion King for family movie night, so….”

Lois laughed. “Ahh, young love…so fickle.”

“Indeed,” he said with a laugh. “But she left another message yesterday asking when I’d be home and begging me to come visit as soon as I got back. So I really need to do that. Otherwise I’ll just unpack and make sure I’ve got everything ready for practice on Monday.”

“Are you excited about the first practice?”

He paused, and she smiled, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It will be good to get back out there. I’m looking forward to it.

“What’s your practice schedule like for the next few weeks? Before school starts.”

“Just eight to noon this week. Then two-a-days until school starts. Eight to noon and four to eight. Once school starts, practice every day after school until seven.”

“That’s a lot,” she said, a sudden yawn overtaking her.

Clark chuckled softly. “It’s late. I know you’re tired. You should go to bed.”

She hesitated, her heart squeezing sadly at the thought of hanging up. She knew he had to be tired too. A full day of travel, and who knew when was the last time he slept and what time zone his body was still in. But she just wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

“I know,” he said softly. “Me too.” She closed her eyes and smiled at his ability to hear the things she left unsaid. The yearning silence stretched between them.

“Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice low and husky, sending a tingle of desire through her whole body

“Please,” she said softly. Then she laughed softly. “You can call me anytime, you know. You don’t have to ask. I always want you to call.”

“I wish I could kiss you goodnight,” he said suddenly, and she inhaled sharply, his words stealing her breath as her mind filled immediately with remembered sensations of his lips on hers, his hands on her skin.

“I know,” she said, when she could breathe again. “Me too.”

“Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. In the evening?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Okay. Good night, Lois.”

“Good night, Clark,” she whispered, her heart aching when she heard the click of the line being disconnected.

She hung up the phone, clicked off the bedside lamp, and slid down in her bed until she was laying with her head on her pillow. Then she closed her eyes and replayed their conversation in her mind, letting his sweet, soft voice lull her to sleep.

Chapter Text

Clark opened the cabinet, pulling out the plates, and closed it again before walking to the table. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him as he set the table, and he knew she was both happy to have him home and curious about his trip.

They sat down, passing around the roast chicken and vegetables, and settling in.

“So,” Martha said. “Tell us about your trip.”

He smiled and hit some of the highlights, both the touristy adventures like the music festival and Jakarta fair, and his private adventures like swimming along the coral reef and floating in the tree canopy.

He laughed suddenly, remembering the baby orangutans. He described the scene, and his sympathy for Martha as he remembered his own childhood antics.

“I remember those days,” Martha said with a laugh. “Ginny and I could never finish a conversation without being interrupted. And then on the rare occasion we did, we’d look at each other in horror, wondering what the two of you had gotten up to.”

“Come on,” Clark said with a laugh. “Lana and I weren’t that bad. We didn’t get up to half the trouble the boys did.”

When both the Lang and Kent households had found themselves celebrating the arrival of surprise babies within a few months of each other, the children had automatically been sorted by their parents into two groups: “the babies” and “the boys” – Ginny Lang’s older three sons, aged 13, 11, and 10 at the time. Lana had been a late-in-life bonus baby whose pregnancy hadn’t been discovered until nearly halfway through, and of course, Clark had dropped into his parents’ lives unexpectedly and without warning.

No one had expected the group classifications to stick so thoroughly, especially “the babies” themselves who protested the nickname vehemently for years. But thirty years later, they were still “the boys” and “the babies”, and Clark wondered at times if he and Lana would be grandparents themselves before the nickname finally shook free.

“Well, that’s certainly true,” Martha said. “Poor Ginny had her hands full.”

“I ran into Teddy down at the tractor supply store yesterday,” Jonathan said. Teddy, the youngest of the boys, had worked alongside his father for years, and had taken over the Lang farm when his father retired last year. He and his wife had built a home on the Lang property and were now officially the Kent’s closest neighbors.

Martha looked up, suddenly interested. “Did you ask about Susan? She’s due any day.”

Jonathan looked at her like she had lost her mind. “No. I asked him what tractor parts he was looking for and told him to stop by and see what I’ve got on hand before he bought anything.”

“I’ll give Susan a call this week,” Martha said, rolling her eyes. She turned her attention to Clark. “It sounds like a great trip, but you didn’t mention the weekend in Metropolis. How was that?”

“It was good,” Clark said, smiling immediately at the thought of her. “Really good.”

“What did you do there?” Jonathan asked, and Clark looked over to him, a little surprised by his question after all his warnings the last time they had spoken.

“We did a bunch of touristy stuff – a couple of city tours, the natural history museum, dinner at this great restaurant with lots of sports memorabilia,” Clark answered, intentionally omitting any mention of his rescue and their undercover assignment, and detailing more of the touristy stuff they had done when his father nodded at him to continue.

“And how was Lois?” Martha asked when he finished. “Did you…have a nice time with her?”

Clark’s eyes flicked over to his father’s face, and then back to his mom. They had always had such a close relationship. He told them almost everything. And he was dying to talk about her. But he couldn’t bear to hear his father’s lectures and admonitions today. Not with the memory of that kiss so fresh in his mind. Not when he was so unbearably happy.

“It was…wonderful,” he said carefully. “We had a great time. It was…”

He trailed off, unsure what else to say.

“When you left, you said you didn’t know what it meant that she invited you,” Martha said, leading him hopefully. “Do you know now?”

His eyes flicked to his father again. He seemed to be waiting for his answer too, without his mother’s unbridled eagerness, but also without censure.

“Things between us…. It was special. She’s special. I don’t know how to explain….” He put his fork down, wanting to say more, but struggling to find the words.

“Son,” his father said softly, and Clark turned to look at him, waiting for his reproof.

Jonathan shook his head. “I’m sorry, Clark. I… I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to us because you’re afraid of my disapproval. I know I can be overprotective. I know I push you too hard sometimes. You’re a grown man. You’ve never been anything but responsible and thoughtful. We trust you to be safe. And we want you to be happy. If she makes you happy, we want to hear about her.”

Clark nodded, unable to speak immediately through the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Dad. It’s not… It’s not just that I’m trying to avoid your disapproval. I just don’t know how to talk about this. It’s…”

His mother took pity on him, and smiled, reaching over to pat his arm. “It must have been a little…awkward? You barely know her. You just met her at the conference, and since then you’ve just been emailing a bit?”

Clark hesitated, smiling guiltily. “It’s…been a bit more than that. We email every day. Sometimes back and forth for hours. And we talk on the phone every Sunday night for three or four hours.”

“Four hours?” his father said, obviously both surprised and a little horrified at the prospect of spending such a long stretch on the phone.

His mother, on the other hand, looked delighted. “Is that why you’ve been rushing out of here every week? I couldn’t figure it out. I thought something was wrong with my pies!”

Clark laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with your pies, mom. Sundays are just the best time for us to talk. Her schedule can be a little unpredictable, so it’s nice to have a set night.”

“Are you going to call her when you leave here tonight?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded and smiled sheepishly. “Though I talked to her yesterday too…. And Friday. So…. I’m not sure our Sunday phone call is quite the big deal it used to be.”

“You called her Friday when you got home?” Martha asked, clearly surprised.

He paused, wondering if he should tell them, and decided just to bite the bullet. “I went to see her on Friday first.”

Jonathan sat up straighter in his chair, and Clark could see him biting back a question. He held up a hand to reassure him. “I checked the flights. I told her my connecting flight was full, and I got bumped to the next flight. That it gave me a couple hours for a layover I wasn’t expecting.”

His father raised his eyebrows and nodded, satisfied with Clark’s caution.

“Tell us more,” Martha said, practically levitating out of her seat. “Did you call her from the airport? Was she shocked? She hadn’t heard from you all month and then you just called her out of the blue?”

Clark grinned sheepishly again. “I…wrote her letters all summer.”

His mother pressed a hand to her heart, the giddy excitement on her face morphing into something more serious. He worried for a second she might cry.

“Letters?” she said.

“Every day,” he confirmed quietly. “And postcards too. There was a delay, because of the mail, but I knew when I left that she had to have received a week or two’s worth. And the first letter…” He trailed off, some things too private to share with his parents. But he could see by their faces that they understood these were not just breezy, chatty letters from one friend to another.

“I made up the story about the overbooked flight, and then I showed up at her work. I probably should have called, but it never occurred to me. I had to be there in person. I had to see her face. I had to know if she felt the same way I did. I do. I…”

“And she does?” Martha asked, with a watery smile.

He nodded, his heart tight in his chest. “Yeah, she does.”

“Well, that’s just…” Martha was so overcome she couldn’t even find the words.

“We’re happy for you, son,” Jonathan said softly. “Truly. Why don’t you tell us a little about her?”

Clark looked at the ceiling and shook his head, no idea where to even begin. “She is…the most brilliant woman I’ve ever met,” he said finally, looking back and forth between them. “She is determined and driven and an unstoppable force for good. She cares so much about everything, and she won’t let anyone get in her way of making this world a better place. She…makes me want to be…better…be…more.”

He saw his parents exchange a knowing look that he wasn’t completely sure he understood, and dismissed it, preferring to think about her instead.

“She’s…funny. So funny. She makes me laugh all the time. Except she’s also so serious. And we can talk about…anything. Everything. She understands me. She sees me. I don’t even have to tell her what I’m thinking sometimes, and she just knows,” he said, thinking back to Friday, when he had surprised her at work, and she had known Perry’s comment about his career would make him feel melancholy.

“I love talking to her. We can talk for hours and hours, and it’s never enough. It’s always so hard to say goodbye. And when I was there the first time, on our last night, we ditched this fancy art gallery thing that turned out to be….not great. And we went back to her house, and we watched movies and just… didn’t talk. We were just…together. And that was amazing too. I’m so comfortable with her. I just want to be with her all the time.”

“And she's gorgeous,” he said, with a little laugh. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I… I cannot believe she’s interested in me. I cannot believe she feels even a fraction of what I’m feeling. She’s…amazing. She’s… When I left, after our first visit, I was completely consumed by thoughts of her. I couldn’t think of anything else. I was sick with missing her. And I wrote her these letters, and I had no idea what she was thinking when she received them. And I had to see her. So I went. And I stepped out of the elevator, and she saw me, and there was this moment where she was still processing that I was really there. And I was waiting for her reaction. And it was the longest moment of my life; I’ve never been that nervous, that scared. Never, not even when we found that rock at Wayne’s place that made me so sick. Never. And then…she just ran…right into my arms, and I twirled her around like something out of a movie. It was the best day of my life.”

He stopped, realizing suddenly how much he had said, how long he had been talking. His parents both looked a little shellshocked. Tears glistened in his mother’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got…carried away.”

“Oh, Clark,” she said, shaking her head. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you like this. How much I wanted this for you.”

“It’s still complicated,” he said. “She lives all the way in Metropolis. Her life is there. My life is here. And there are things she doesn’t know about me. Things…she might never know.”

“You don’t have to solve all that right now,” his mother said, glancing over at his father.

“You’ll figure it out, son,” he said. “If it’s meant to be, you’ll figure out all the details.”

They finished their dinner in relative silence, commenting only on the food. And soon Clark was clearing the table, preparing to wash the dishes, while his mother sliced into a peach pie. A moment later, she shooed him away from the sink, handing him a Tupperware container full of pie.

“Go,” she said with a smile. “Go call your girl.”

He hesitated, then hugged her tightly. “Thanks, Mom.”

He poked his head into the living room, where his Dad was sitting on the couch. “I’m heading out, Dad.”

“No pie?” he said, teasing.

Clark held up the Tupperware, and Jonathan laughed.

“She really was worried something was wrong with her pies,” he said, eyes twinkling. He stood and nodded toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

They walked in silence to Clark’s truck, hesitating when they reached the door.

“I’m really happy for you,” Jonathan said finally. “You’ll figure it out. The details. You always do.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Clark said.

Jonathan opened his arms, and Clark stepped into his embrace, slapping his dad on the back.

“We’ve missed you,” his dad said, and Clark knew he didn’t just mean while Clark traveled.

“I missed you too,” Clark said. “I’ve only got morning practices this week. I’ll come by one day, and we can catch up on some chores.”

Jonathan nodded and slapped him on the arm, then stepped back and waited until Clark got into his truck and headed home.

*****

The final weeks of summer sped by in a blur of football practices, dinners with his parents, and phone calls to Lois. Soon he was back in the classroom too, preparing for the return of his students – setting up his classroom, finalizing his syllabi, and prepping his lesson plans.

Once school started again, he was there from dawn to dusk, coming in before school for newspaper staff meetings and staying late for football practice. His days of long leisurely phone calls to Lois were a thing of the past, and though he tried valiantly to call her two or three times a week, even if the calls themselves would have to be brief, they just couldn’t seem to make their schedules mesh and had started reverting to occasional emails.

Lois seemed to understand, and he assumed she was having no trouble filling that extra time with her own work. Her investigation into the Toasters was finally making some progress, thanks to some of the jailhouse interviews he had suggested.

Apparently, Toni hadn’t been the mastermind behind the Toasters’ weapons, only the supplier. And when Toasters had gone to ground, a shadowy figure they knew only as The Boss, had come to collect their weapons. The Boss had not had time to collect all of them before the police moved in, but he – whoever he was – definitely had two, and likely the ability to engineer more.

Last night had been the first football game of the season, and Clark hadn’t made it home until nearly midnight after celebrating with the team and studying the tapes a bit. He had crashed immediately when he got home, shutting off his alarm clock before falling asleep, and looking forward to a three-day weekend thanks to Labor Day. Now he was waking up leisurely, enjoying his first true day off in weeks.

He stretched and rolled over to look at the alarm clock beside his bed. 8:45. So 9:45 in Metropolis he calculated automatically. He laughed at himself. Clearly he had a one-track mind. Even his subconscious was always thinking of her.

It was possible she was home. Some Saturday mornings she went to the open gym at her dojo to spar, but it was drop-in, so she only went when she felt like it.

He reached for the phone and dialed her number, then leaned back against his pillows, propped against the headboard of his bed. The phone rang three times, and he was just about to give up and assume she was at the dojo, when he heard the line connect and then her voice.

“Hello,” she said, already annoyed. He wondered if she was expecting a telemarketer or a wrong number.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi!” she said, all traces of annoyance gone. She sounded so sweet and so happy to hear from him that his heart clenched in his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You sounded annoyed at the phone.”

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s fine. It’s nothing. Tell me about the game.”

“56 to 17. It was a rout. I almost felt bad for them.”

“No mercy, Kent. Mercy’s not gonna get you to State,” she teased.

He closed his eyes and smiled. God, he adored her.

“Tell me more,” she said softly. “Tell me the whole thing.”

He started from the beginning, going through the whole game, hitting all the highlights and major missteps, while she listened quietly, interjecting occasionally to ask a question or offer an opinion.

When he was finished, she asked about his classes, and he filled her in quickly, eager for her to talk for a while so he could catch up on things in her life and hear her voice.

“How are things there?” he said. “I hardly talked to you at all this week. How’s your investigation going?”

“Eh,” she said. “Nothing new. It’s on the back burner again while I wait to hear back from some sources, see if I can get a lead on this Boss guy.”

“Anything else interesting?”

“Not really,” she said. “How’s the newspaper staff? Did you wind up recruiting some new writers? I know you were worried with last year’s seniors graduated and gone.”

She sounded off. Almost sad. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly. She just didn’t sound like herself.

“Are you okay?” he asked impulsively, ignoring her question about the newspaper.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Of course,” she said quickly.

“You’re not,” he insisted. “Something’s wrong. Is it work? Are you frustrated about the investigation? Or is it something else?”

“Clark,” she said softly, reticent, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t want to talk about it or if it was something he had done.

“Lois, talk to me,” he said.

“I miss you,” she said, and he smiled at her non-sequitur.

“I miss you too,” he said. “I wish-”

“No, Clark. That’s…why I’m sad,” she said finally, as if he had dragged the confession from her. “I just miss you. I got spoiled. You were here. And then your letters came every day. And then you were here again. And then you only had practice so you were emailing me all day, and the letters were still coming because they were delayed, and we were talking on the phone every night after you got home from practice. And now school is back in session, and you’re so busy. And…god, if anyone knows what it’s like to be busy with work it’s me! This is ridiculous. I know that. I know this is your busy season. I knew this was coming. But, Clark…I miss you so much.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, the endearment slipping out without warning, his heart shattering into a million pieces at the crack in her voice when she made that last confession. “I miss you too. I miss you every day. I think about you constantly. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be sad.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. I didn’t mean to say anything. I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t pressed.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “I want you to talk to me. I want to know how you’re feeling. I can’t do anything if I don’t know-”

“I know you’re busy with work,” she said, interrupting him. “I know you’re making as much time as you can to talk to me. I don’t want you to do anything. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. I just… Do you have a fall break? Can you come visit for fall break?”

“I do,” he said slowly. “And I would love to come for Fall Break. But it’s not until the end of October.”

“October?” she said, as if it was decades away.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. If only she knew. He could be there today. He could be there right now. He could stay for the weekend. She was hurting, and it was within his power to make it stop, and he couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t do it.

“Do you have a bye week? Could you come for a weekend?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts before they could go somewhere truly dangerous.

“Our only bye week is the weekend of the Smallville Corn Festival,” he started. “The Athletic Director schedules it that way on purpose. The team always participates in the 5K and a bunch of other events. I can’t miss it.”

She let out a little whimper of frustration, and he wanted to crawl through the phone and hug her. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say.

“I can’t leave that weekend…but you could come?” he said tentatively. “I won’t have a game, and we could spend the whole weekend together. I know it’s…not what …. I know a corn festival is not your idea of a good time. I know this isn’t what you had in mind. But it’s kind of fun. Local bands play and there’s food and dancing and fair games and fireworks. It’s-”

“When?” she asked “Just tell me when, and I’ll book a ticket.”

He exhaled loudly, his heart squeezing almost painfully in his chest.

“Lois,” he said, unsure how to finish that sentence.

“Just tell me when, Clark. I’ll be there.”

He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. She was coming. She was coming without hesitation, without pretense.

“It’s the third weekend in September,” he said. “Friday night and Saturday. We cancel all practices and clubs on Friday after school, and most people head straight there after school or work. The 5K is first thing Saturday morning, and the bands and fireworks are Saturday night.”

“I’ll fly in Friday while you’re at work. I can rent a car. Is there a hotel in Smallville? Or…what’s the closest hotel?”

Clark hesitated. “Lois, there are no hotels in Smallville. There are some motels in Hamilton, which is sort of halfway between Wichita and Smallville. But Wichita is going to be the closest city with any decent hotel. It’s an hour away, you’re going to waste a ton of time driving. You could…stay with me. I have two fully-furnished guest rooms and a guest bathroom,” he rushed to add, not wanting her to think he was making any sort of presumption. He waited for her reaction, hoping he hadn’t pushed too far.

“Or you could stay with my parents,” he added. “They would be happy to let you stay there.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’ll stay with you. If you’re sure.”

“Of course,” he said immediately. “I would love for you to stay with me. I don’t want you to waste half your visit driving. It’ll be wonderful having you here.”

“It’s an hour drive from the airport?” she asked. “I’ll have to get a map. Is Smallville even on the map?”

He smiled at her gentle teasing, glad to hear the sadness gone from her voice. “If you come in Thursday night, I’ll come get you. You won’t have to worry about driving or finding Smallville on a map.”

“I can do that,” she said. “I should look for a flight that lands around nine? So you can come after practice?”

“You can come earlier. I’m going to cancel Thursday’s practice since we have a bye. Give them a night to relax. I can leave work right at three, so I can be there anytime after four. Though if you come after work, it’s probably going to be eight or nine at the earliest anyway even with the time difference.”

“I’ll take a half day Thursday, and look for something that gets in around four or five.”

His heart lurched at her eagerness to come as early as possible. “That would be…I would love that. But can you get a day and half off? It’s only two weeks away.”

“I have all those vacation days just sitting there,” she said, and his mind immediately went back to that first night in the hotel bar.

“Is your editor going to have a heart attack?” he teased.

“He can chew another handful of paava leaves and get over it.”

He laughed, happier than he had been in weeks.

Chapter Text

Lois sat at her desk, leg jiggling impatiently as she watched the numbers on her computer’s clock tick closer to noon. The clock had been moving normally, or close to it, this morning. But now it seemed to have slowed to a crawl.

She had spent all morning working sources and doing some more background investigating, but mostly she was just killing time.

11:32. She was never going to make it through the last half hour. She shot a glance at Perry’s office and debated trying to sneak out a little early.

Her bags were packed and sitting by the front door of her apartment waiting for her. She had agonized over everything she packed, no idea what was appropriate attire for a small town corn festival. She had settled on a variety of jeans and leggings with cute tops and hoped they would look nice without standing out.

Pajamas had been her other concern while packing, since she was staying with Clark and not at a hotel. She was right back to her dilemma from the last night of his visit, when they had snuggled on her couch and watched the entire Lethal Weapon trilogy. She wanted to be comfortable, but attractive. She wanted him to want her…but she didn’t want to send the wrong message. Because although she was far beyond pretending this relationship was merely platonic, she wasn’t ready to jump into a physical relationship with him when she was still trying to figure out where this was going.

Clark seemed to understand this concern implicitly, and she recognized that his immediate mention of his guest rooms when he invited her to stay with him was an attempt to assure her that staying at his house didn’t mean sharing his bed.

Not that she expected or hoped for their visit to be entirely…chaste. The memory of their kiss was her favorite fodder for daydreams, and she was so ready to make more memories with him.

She shook her head to clear it. She didn’t need to go down that mental rabbit trail at work.

She cleaned out her top desk drawer, checked her email one more time, and washed her coffee mug.

11:47. Good enough.

She turned off her computer and stood, gathering her bags.

Cat looked up, brow furrowed. “Are you leaving?”

“I took a half day,” she said without offering any further information. She knew Cat would assume she had a doctor’s appointment, or something equally banal.

Cat raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

“Monday,” Lois said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and digging out her car keys.

“Monday?” Cat clarified. “You’re taking a four day weekend? Where are you going?”

Lois looked over at her and shrugged, and then lost her battle to hide her emotions and let out a little laugh.

“Kansas,” she said with a grin as she turned to leave, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cat’s jaw drop. She didn’t even bother to try to stifle her smile as she headed for the elevators, leaving work behind without a second thought.

****

Lois watched out the window as the clouds parted, framing the colorblock tapestry of fields below. Her book lay abandoned in her lap, her mind too preoccupied with her destination to focus on reading.

After work, she had rushed home to change into something comfortable, settling on a pair of jeans and a cropped oatmeal sweater that buttoned up the front and had sleeves that came to her elbows and a scooped neckline that was enticing without being particularly revealing.

The flight was only about half full, and she was thankful to have a row to herself. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger. The closer she got to Wichita, the more nervous she got. She was so excited to see Clark; beyond excited really. She was downright giddy. But visiting during the Corn Festival, which was apparently Smallville’s biggest annual event, meant being on display.

Clark had lived in Smallville his entire life, aside from the few years he had spent traveling. The town was full of people who knew him, everyone from colleagues to high school friends to preschool teachers to…his parents.

They were planning to have dinner with his parents at the farm on Saturday, and Lois could not remember ever being more nervous about meeting someone in her life. Which seemed preposterous when she looked back on the exclusive interview she had done with the President earlier in the year.

The pilot announced the beginning of their descent, and she felt a flutter of butterflies that had nothing to do with the altitude change.

The landing was smooth, and before she knew it, they were disembarking. Her work bag sat on the empty seat beside her holding her laptop and a few files in case she decided to do some more work on her investigation while Clark was at work tomorrow. She stood and slid her unread book into the bag, then filed out of her row, joining the other passengers on the trudge up the main aisle of the aircraft and through the tunnel to the gate.

She had insisted that Clark not bother with the gate, and just meet her at baggage claim, and he had eventually agreed, despite his initial protests. But as soon as she emerged from the tunnel, she was greeted by his wide warm smile, and she couldn’t help but laugh. She should have known his concession was false.

He shrugged and opened his arms to her, and she laughed and quickened her pace, dropping her bag at his feet, and throwing her arms around his neck. His arms circled her waist, and he lifted her off the ground in an enthusiastic hug. It wasn’t the same flying leap as the last time she had seen him, but it was reminiscent enough that her heart fluttered at the memory.

“Your flight was okay?” he asked as he set her back down. Her arms were still around his neck, and his hands rested on her waist. Her short sweater was hiked up, revealing a strip of skin, and his thumbs stroked fiery trails just above the waistband of her jeans.

She nodded and stroked his cheek, then let both hands slide over his neck to his chest, lingering there. The laughter in his eyes morphed slowly into something more tender, and felt her breath catch in her throat. His gaze flicked to her mouth and then back to her eyes and she gave a tiny nod, her heart rate starting to pick up.

He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, and the world spun again. She had wondered, in the intervening weeks, if she had made that up. If her rose-colored glasses had painted the memory, making an admittedly fantastic kiss into something magical. But the world was definitely spinning.

He pulled back and smiled at her, and she knew she was gazing at him like a lovesick teenager. He lifted a hand from her waist and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Let’s go get your luggage,” he said finally.

She nodded and stepped back, her heart stuttering when his hands fell from her waist. She bent and picked up her bag, slipping the strap over her shoulder and then stood and looked to him to lead the way to the baggage claim area. He was smiling at her, and she felt herself flush with the pleasure of it. His grin widened and she knew her emotions were written all over her face.

She rolled her eyes playfully and turned, looking for the signs for the baggage area. He fell in step beside her and took her hand, giving it a little squeeze. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and squeezed back, her grin matching his.

They retrieved her luggage, a large suitcase that Clark carried to the parking lot without complaint after asking her whether she was really only planning to stay for the weekend and receiving yet another eye roll.

In the short term parking area, he led her to a black pickup truck, and swung her suitcase into the bed of the truck before opening the passenger side door for her.

She laughed as she climbed up into her seat, and he looked at her suspiciously.

“What?” he asked.

“How did I not know you drove a pickup truck? Of course you do.”

“Well, Lois, you can take the kid out of the farm, but…”

“You can’t take away his pickup truck?” she finished.

He laughed and closed her door, walking quickly around the truck and sliding in. He asked her about her day, and they fell into a comfortable conversation as he navigated through the maze of the airport and out onto the highway.

After a while, they turned off the highway onto a state route without a name and the view went from scrub grass and billboards to endless miles of crops broken by the occasional tidy farmhouse. They drove through two small towns, and Lois eyed them carefully, wondering how they compared to Smallville.

The conversation waned and she focused her attention fully on the view out her window. They passed yet another field, small green plants low to the ground in tidy rows. The corn was easy to recognize, but these had her baffled. They didn’t look like anything she had seen in city gardens or in the grocery store.

“Soybeans,” he said softly, and she realized he had been watching her. “We rotate them with the corn.”

She turned to look at him. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never spent much time thinking about what crops actually look like while they're in the ground. The straight rows. The symmetry. It’s soothing.”

He smiled at her affectionately, and she knew he was at least a little amused by her city girl naivete. “You should see it in the spring, when the winter wheat is ready for harvest. The sun hits the tassels, and it’s a sea of gold.”

“‘Amber waves of grain’?” she asked, and he nodded.

“America’s bread basket,” he said with a teasing grin. “You laugh, but take away Middle America and what have you got?”

“Art, music, theater,” she replied, teasing right back.

“Crime, drugs, poverty,” he countered, and she laughed.

“Is that really what you think of when you think of the city?” she asked.

“No,” he said softly. “Some of my favorite things are in the city.”

Her heart swelled in her chest, and she laid her hand palm up on the console in silent invitation. He reached over without hesitation and laced their fingers together.

“Tell me more about the corn festival,” she said.

“Oh, you are going to have the time of your life,” he said, mock seriously. “There is the Corn Queen Pageant, the Husk Off, the Corn-o-rama, the-”

“What in the world is a Corn-o-rama?” she asked, breaking into his reverie.

“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see. Words cannot do it justice.”

She looked at him skeptically, and he launched back into his description.

“There’s barbeque available for lunch and dinner and all the corn snacks your heart desires – popcorn, cream corn, corn on the cob….”

Soon they were following the signs to Smallville, turning off the state route and following a smaller road into town. She tried to be subtle about her curiosity, scanning the town square, where booths and displays were under construction, and the storefronts as they passed, but Clark laughed and squeezed her hand, and she knew he had read her expertly.

“Let’s get you settled, and then we’ll walk back to the square and have dinner at Maisie's,” he said. “We can walk around, and I’ll give you the tour tonight, before it turns into a madhouse tomorrow.”

Lois smiled, certain their definitions of “madhouse” were worlds apart.

Then finally, after their enthusiastic reunion at the airport and the hour drive to Smallville, they were pulling into his driveway, and she had her opportunity to see Clark in his natural habitat.

That turned out to be an absolutely adorable house just a few blocks north of the town square with a well manicured lawn and a neighbor lady who waved enthusiastically from her front porch. The house was two stories and painted a light sage green with white trim. A wide front porch, complete with a porch swing, stretched the length of the house, and looked so inviting, Lois couldn’t help but smile. It was like something out of a fairytale.

Clark said hello to his neighbor, retrieved her suitcase from the bed of the truck, and led her up the brick walkway to the front steps.

Inside, the house was tastefully decorated with mementos from his travels scattered over the walls and surfaces.

He carried her suitcase upstairs to the guest room at the top of the stairs, gesturing to the door that connected her room to the guest bathroom. A smaller guest room with bunk beds was on the other side of the bathroom, and Lois realized he kept a room for his godkids at his house, and her heart squeezed at the thought of it.

Across the hall, the door to his master suite hung open, and she could see his matching furniture and neatly made bed. She thought briefly of the last man she had dated before Dan, a man who – despite being in his late 20s and a lawyer – lived like a college student with castoff living room furniture and a mattress on the floor. The first, and only, time she had agreed to meet him at his place, she had been appalled.

Then she followed Clark back downstairs, and they walked through the living room and past his home office. She smiled at the computer on his desk, imagining him sitting there typing out message after message over the last five months.

She followed him into his kitchen, where his refrigerator was covered in art from Sophie and Caleb, and stuffed full of ingredients for actual meals, putting hers to shame. He opened a few cabinets, showing her where to find cups, plates, silverware, and anything else she might need.

“Make yourself at home,” he said. “Really. Poke around in all my drawers and cabinets. You know you're dying to.”

Her jaw dropped, and she feigned offense. “I would never!”

Clark laughed and reached for her, settling his hands on her waist. “You absolutely would.”

She couldn’t suppress her laughter any longer, and she gave in, laughing and sliding her hands up his chest, letting them rest on the back of his neck, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.

He gazed down at her and shook his head, the warmth in his eyes spreading through her, melting the last of her nerves. She lifted her chin, and tugged gently on his neck, and he needed no further enticement. His lips were on hers, and she hummed contently against his mouth. He tightened his grip on her waist, and she felt sparks where his hands brushed against her bare skin.

She pulled away finally, and he lifted a hand from her waist to cup her cheek. They were quiet for a moment, just gazing at each other.

“We should go,” he said. “Get you something to eat. It’s almost eight o’clock your time.”

She hesitated, not ready to leave his embrace, and then finally nodded and stepped back.

They strolled leisurely down the three blocks to the square, and turned right onto Main Street. Across the street, the square was quiet, decorations and festival booths partially set up, ready to be finished in the morning. The little shops were mostly dark, closed signs hanging on their doors, but Clark pointed out a couple of little boutiques, a bookstore, a barber shop, and the general store where he told her he had wasted all his allowance as a kid.

The old fashioned street lamps lining the square flickered on, giving the town an extra dose of old fashioned charm. The sound of children shouting drew her attention, and she looked across the square and saw a group of boys on bikes splitting up, each of them pedaling in separate directions, and she assumed they were headed to their homes.

They slowed in front of a cheerful diner, stepping past a couple of small cafe tables and a chalkboard with the daily specials to reach the front door. Clark opened and held it for her, and she smiled at him as she walked through. It was such a small thing, the way he held doors for her and carried her bags. A Kansas thing, she imagined. But it made her feel so good.

The diner was sparsely occupied with just a couple of tables in use. Clark led her to a booth, and they were greeted as soon as they were seated by a middle aged woman in a black apron with the diner’s logo stitched on the front.

“Clark!” she said. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I guess you’ve been busy. I caught that last game against Burlington. That Peterson boy sure does have an arm on him.”

“That he does,” Clark said. “Now, if I can just get him to improve his aim.”

Maisie laughed and turned to Lois. “Hello there!”

“Maisie, this is my friend Lois,” Clark said. “She’s visiting for the Corn Festival.”

“Well, isn’t that wonderful! Have you been before, dear?”

Lois smiled immediately, imagining her past self vacationing at the Smallville Corn Festival. “No, this is my first time. I can’t wait. I hear it’s a good time.”

“Oh, you are in for a treat,” Maisie gushed. “There are games and music and all sorts of activities. And everyone in town shows up. Plus we’ll get lots of visitors – everybody comes home for the Corn Festival.”

“It sounds lovely,” Lois said. “I’ve heard rumors about a corn-o-rama, but Clark here won’t give me any clues as to what that might be.”

Clark burst out laughing, and Lois smiled at him. He reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb gently across her knuckles. She watched Maisie look back and forth between them and raise an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Well, then I won’t spoil the surprise,” she said. “But speaking of the corn-o-rama, Clark, your mama was in here earlier. She said she’s not entering the cornbread bake off?”

Lois tried to stifle her laughter at the woman’s scandalized tone. Clearly not well enough, as Clark turned his attention to her, eyebrows raised.

“The cornbread bake off is serious business,” he said, face serious but eyes twinkling.

“Oh, of course,” she said quickly, overly apologetic. “I would never dare to suggest otherwise. I’m sure whole lives ride on the outcome.”

“You joke, but legend has it-”

“You leave that poor girl alone,” Maisie said, swatting at Clark with the menu.

Lois laughed and turned to Maisie. “Thank you! You see the truth – he seems like such a nice guy, but he lives to torture me. He only looks like Mr. Perfect.”

“Aw, you know Clark,” Maisie replied, handing them their menus. “What you see is what you get. You just give me a wave when you’re ready to order.”

She turned and headed toward a table full of diners ready who looked ready to leave, and Lois turned back to Clark.

“Is that true? What you see is what you get? I have wondered,” she said, the lightness in her voice covering a larger truth.

He opened his arms and grinned self-deprecatingly at her. “If I was making up lies to impress you, I’m sure I could have done better than this.”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “You’ve done a pretty thorough job of it.”

His grin widened into a true smile, and he reached for her hand across the table again, lacing their fingers together and stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly.

“Me too,” she said, heart aflutter at the look in his eyes, and the feel of his thumb against her sensitive skin.

They settled on their orders and gave them to Maisie, then fell into a comfortable conversation about their plans for the weekend.

“You probably want to sleep in tomorrow, but if you drop me off and pick me up at work, you can have my truck in case you want to go somewhere. I don’t want you to feel trapped while I’m gone.”

Lois narrowed her eyes playfully. “Is this some sort of farmboy trick? If I drive your truck, does that make us legally married in Kansas or something?”

Clark burst out laughing. “I don’t think so, but I’ll look into it.”

“If I pick you up, will you give me a tour?”

“Of the school?” he asked with a smile. “Of course. But don’t go getting your expectations too high. It’s just a tiny little rural high school. There’s not much to see.”

He was laughing, but she could feel a current of truth in this and his earlier comment about concocting a better lie to impress her. He was nervous, she realized. Whereas she had been thrilled to have him in her city – unable to squeeze in all the things she wanted to show him – he was worried that she would be disappointed in, or even judgmental about, his home. He had been worried from the beginning, she realized, when he couched his invitation in caveats – “I know this isn’t what you are used to….” “I know a corn festival isn’t your idea of fun….”

Her heart lurched for him. She had felt so vulnerable, so exposed, telling him how much she missed him, begging him to come visit. She hadn’t realized how vulnerable he had made himself in return, by asking her to come.

“I want to see everything that’s important to you,” she said softly. “All the things and people you love. When you tell me stories about the kids in your classroom or your players on the field, I want to be able to close my eyes and imagine it. When you talk about your friends, I want to be able to picture them, to hear their voices in my head. This isn’t an interview, Clark. I’m not here to compare Smallville to Metropolis. I just want to know you better.”

“How do you do that?” he asked softly, reaching his other hand across the table to join hers.

“Do what?” she asked, sighing as his fingers danced with hers, stroking gently.

“Know exactly what I’m thinking – what I’m feeling – without me saying a word? How do you know exactly what to say?”

Before she could respond, Maisie returned with their food, and they awkwardly untangled their hands and sat back, making room for the plates. Maisie assessed them with a knowing grin and a raised eyebrow, and Lois felt herself blush.

The interruption killed their charged moment, and once Maisie moved on, they ate their meals and chatted casually, talking about her work and his football team. They lingered over dessert, sharing a piece of pie that Clark assured Lois in whispers was not as good as his mom’s.

Then they were walking back to his house in the warm glow of the street lamps, his arm around her shoulder. Lois leaned into him, trying to memorize every part of this, so she could call it back later.

It was nearly nine when they got back, but she shook her head at Clark’s offer to turn in early. Even operating on East Coast time, it was earlier than she normally went to bed, and she was far too excited to sleep.

He offered a movie instead, and she smiled immediately at the thought of curling up with him on the couch. They went upstairs to change, and when she came back down wearing plaid sleep shorts and a matching navy tank top, he was in the kitchen making tea, and she browsed his collection of movies.

“Pick whatever you want,” he said, coming out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea. He was wearing blue sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, sleeves tight over his biceps, and her pulse sped up when she saw him. Suddenly she didn’t care in the least what movie they watched.

She turned back to the movies and spotted The Paper, and pulled it out with a chuckle.

“Have you seen it?” Clark asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I was fully prepared to hate it, but I wound up loving it. I told Jimmy to watch it because the young photographer reminded me of him, and he didn’t speak to me for a week.”

Clark laughed and took the tape from her, sliding it into the VCR. They gravitated back to the couch, and he sat in one corner with his arm outstretched across the back of the couch. She smiled at him shyly, and went to him, curling up with her head on his shoulder and her knees in his lap.

He brought his free hand up to her knee and snuggled her closer, and she hummed appreciatively. She rested a hand on his thigh, and smiled at the shaky way he inhaled as she began drawing random designs with her fingertips.

They watched mostly in silence, laughing at the funny parts, though Lois couldn’t resist a few whispered asides about the parts she thought they got wrong depicting a newsroom in action.

At the climax of the movie — when Glenn Close skidded into the newsroom shouting, “Stop the presses!” — Clark leaned back and said, “That’s how I imagine you at work.”

Lois sat back, mouth agape. “You do not!”

“Oh yeah,” he said, the twinkle in his eye and the grin on his face sent a jolt of desire through her. “Running around terrorizing everyone to make sure you get the story exactly right. That is absolutely you.”

“It’s her fault the story is wrong!” Lois protested

Clark shrugged. “You can disregard that part. It’s just this scene that makes me think of you. Running in all wild eyed yelling ‘stop the presses!’”

“You know no one ever actually says that, right?” she countered. “It’s just in movies.”

“It is a movie, Lois,” he said, obviously enjoying her discomfort. “If your life was a movie, you would be the Glenn Close character.”

She shook her head, laughing, unable to think of a retort, but unwilling to concede. And then his gaze slid to her mouth, and her laughter died in her throat. His eyes flicked back to hers, and she leaned toward him in invitation. He smiled and then his lips were on hers, and her eyes were closed and she was sighing happily into his mouth. He was so gentle, so sweet. His hand slid across her cheek, holding her steady as his lips explored hers.

Eventually he pulled away and looked at her, and she smiled shyly and dropped her head back to his shoulder. He laughed softly and stroked her arm, and she wasn’t sure if he was laughing at her bashfulness or if he was just as overwhelmed as she was by the emotions brought on by their kiss.

They watched the rest of the movie and then carried their cups to the kitchen. Lois leaned against the counter, watching as Clark washed both mugs and set them in the dish strainer to dry overnight, and then they walked upstairs together. They lingered in the doorway to her room, and she leaned against the door jam, looking up at him.

“I have to leave for work at 6:50,” Clark told her. “I’ll make coffee when I get up.”

She nodded.

“You should be plenty warm with the quilt on your bed, but if you’re cold, there are more blankets in the closet.”

She nodded again.

“If you need anything, I’ll be right across the hall.”

She nodded again, and he laughed softly.

“Are you going to nod at everything I say?” he teased.

“Maybe,” she said with a smile.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

She nodded and laughed, and then his lips were on hers again and she was so happy she couldn’t think of anything else.

“Get some sleep,” he said softly when he finally pulled away. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nodded again, and then stretched up and kissed him again. “Good night, Clark.”

“Good night, Lois,” he said, stroking her cheek one last time and then turning to cross the hallway.

She watched him go for just a second, a smile still lingering on her lips, and then she walked into her room and closed the door.

Chapter Text

Lois woke up before her alarm in the morning, thanks at least in part to the time difference, though she imagined her nervous excitement was also at least partially responsible. She laid in bed for a minute, stretching under the heavy warmth of the beautiful quilt she was sure was handmade.

She could hear movement downstairs and she realized Clark was already awake. Her hand went to her mouth automatically, reliving their kisses last night.

Reluctantly, she climbed out of bed, cringing at the cool morning air. She reached for her open suitcase, retrieving an oversized dark blue sweatshirt. She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth quickly, then padded down the stairs, stopping in her tracks at the bottom when she realized he was doing pushups on the living room rug. She watched as the muscles of his back and arms rippled, unable to tear her eyes away.

He stopped as soon as he caught sight of her, shifting to sit instead. He smiled at her and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he replied, still smiling.

“What?” she insisted, looking around to see if she could find the source of his amusement.

“Nothing,” he insisted. “Well, you look…pretty decent first thing in the morning.”

She flushed, suddenly shy. “So do you,” she said, eyes lingering again on his arms, and then returning to that heartbreaking smile.

They smiled at each other for a minute, the growing silence becoming awkward.

“I made coffee,” he said finally, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“Good,” she said, overly enthusiastic. “That’s a good thing.”

She walked past him and made her way into the kitchen, smiling when she saw he had placed two mugs in front of the coffee maker along with a sugar bowl and an unopened box of the sugar substitute she preferred.

“There’s milk and cream in the fridge,” he said from the doorway.

“Thank you,” she said, holding up the box.

He shrugged, but she could see the smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She held out a hand to him, and he came immediately to her side.

She reached up and kissed his cheek, and he laughed softly. “It’s just sugar.”

It wasn’t though. Just sugar. It was the way he noticed the little things about her. The quiet way he made her feel at home.

She stroked his cheek and then turned and made her coffee. She leaned against the counter sipping her coffee while he made his own. They drank their coffee in peace for a few minutes, then she darted a glance at the oven clock.

“I should go get dressed,” she said.

She disappeared upstairs, showering quickly and dressing in a fitted light brown v-neck sweater with short sleeves and deep chocolate brown jeans that hugged every curve. She added brown ankle boots and delicate gold necklace, then blow dried her hair and added make up.

She was done with five minutes to spare, and she found Clark in his office gathering his papers and books. He was wearing gray dress pants and a light blue shirt with a surprisingly hideous tie, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Almost ready?” she asked quietly.

He looked up suddenly, and the stunned look on his face said more than any flowery compliment could.

“I’m ready,” he said.

They chatted about their plans for the day as Clark drove the five miles to the school. It was a straight shot — just one turn, at the only traffic light they passed— and Lois was relieved she wouldn’t have to retrace a complicated route without him.

“This is the high school,” Clark said, as he pulled into the first of two parking lots, and pulled up to one of two buildings connected by a short side walk. Both were nondescript, single story buildings with rows of identical square windows. “The other building is the middle school. I’ll give you a tour when you pick me up.”

He pulled to a stop in front of the building. “School lets out at three. You’re going to want to give it a half hour or so, so you don’t get stuck dealing with the buses and traffic. When you get here, just go to the front office. Mrs. Harper will point you to my classroom.”

Clark left the truck running, but opened the door and stepped out. She did the same, walking around the truck to meet him. He slid a hand around her waist, stroking her back through the soft cashmere of her sweater. She knew they were standing in front of his work, and she could see cars starting to trickle into the parking lot, but she was dying for him to kiss her one more time before she left.

He lifted his other hand and stroked her cheek. He looked over her shoulder and nodded, and she knew he was greeting a colleague.

“I should go,” she said softly. “Let you get to work.”

He nodded slowly, and started to pull away, then laughed helplessly, and tightened his grip around her waist before dipping his head to kiss her softly.

“Go,” he said. “Before Lana shows up and murders me for not telling her you were coming.”

“You didn’t tell Lana?” she said, genuinely shocked.

“It didn’t come up,” he said, grinning. He kissed her forehead, then dropped his hands and stepped back.

“She’s going murder you. I’m not going to defend you. I want it on the record that I thought she knew.”

Clark laughed as he walked toward the school. “I’ll be sure to attest to your innocence.”

She climbed back in his truck, adjusted the seat, and drove back to Clark’s.

Alone in his house, she tried to read for a while, then abandoned her book in favor of LNN. Nothing exciting seemed to be happening in the world, and the anchors were busy reporting on rumors of a new round of peace talks in the Middle East.

She wandered his living room, picking up and studying the various knick knacks that were scattered around. Eventually she found herself in his office, perusing the wall of built in shelves behind his desk.

There were hundreds of books, everything from novels to memoirs to poetry interspersed with yet more mementos of his travels. She found a whole shelf of books in foreign languages, and she remembered him saying he was “really only fluent in a handful” and wondered how truthful that had been, given the breadth of his collection.

On the bottom shelf, dozens of matching leather bound books stood in a row. No titles were visible, and she pulled on to look at it more closely. The front was blank too, and as soon as she flipped it open, she realized it was a journal. Another glance told her it was a travel journal, this one covering his time in the Amazon.

Before she realized it, she had read both pages she had opened to, soaking in his colorful description of the flora. She reached automatically to turn the page and then stopped. He had told her yesterday that she was free to poke in all his closets and drawers, but reading his journals seemed a step too far.

She closed the book and put it back before she could give into temptation. She glanced at the clock, and saw it was only ten. The day stretched out before her endlessly. Her eyes were drawn back to the shelf of journals. She had five hours before she had to go get Clark. How many could she read in that time?

She left his office and walked through the kitchen. She considered another cup of coffee, but it had gone cold. She was restless, and she smiled at Clark’s offer to leave her his truck so she wouldn’t feel trapped. He knew her better than she realized.

She didn’t need the truck though to get out of the house. It was only a few blocks to downtown, and she decided to go explore the little shops that had been closed the night before.

Clark’s neighbor — Mrs. Murphy, she remembered suddenly — was sitting on her porch when Lois strolled past. Lois waved and laughed at herself silently, slipping so quickly into small town life.

The square was already humming with activity. Everywhere she looked, displays and booths were being set up, groups of volunteers working to get everything in place.

She browsed the little boutiques, not finding anything she wanted to buy, until a floral dress at the last store caught her eyes. It was long and flowy and more sweetly feminine than what she normally wore, and when she tried it on, she felt like she belonged on a prairie. The shopkeeper, a sweet woman old enough to be her mother, fussed over her when she emerged from the little dressing area, and she seemed so genuinely pleased that Lois couldn’t believe it was just a ploy to make a sale.

The little bookstore yielded another score, a paperback bestseller she had been meaning to pick up for ages. By the time she finished, it was lunchtime, and she decided to grab a sandwich at Maisie’s even though she knew Clark had been sure to leave food options for her.

Maisie greeted her enthusiastically, introducing her as “Clark’s girl” to a grandfatherly man sitting at the bar who seemed utterly uninterested. She assured Maisie that she didn’t want to sit at the bar and preferred a quiet table in a corner where she could read her book, and Maisie brought her a turkey club and fries and then faded into the background.

After lunch, she strolled around the square, watching the festival crew work on their finishing touches. Then she walked back to Clark’s where she sat on the front porch swing for a while reading her new book and enjoying the beautiful fall weather.

A part of her felt guilty for missing work and wondered if she should check in there. She had brought her laptop and could work remotely if she was needed. But the thought seemed almost perfunctory. She had no desire to leave her spot on the porch swing and make that phone call.

As three o’clock approached, she started to get antsy and eager to see him again. The last hour crawled by, and finally she went inside and touched up her makeup, brushed her teeth, and puttered around trying to find some last minute things to do.

When she arrived at the school, the parking lot was mostly deserted. She parked in the front row and made her way into the building, stopping at the front office like Clark had instructed.

A small woman with gray hair piled on top of her head and a welcoming smile greeted her immediately.

“How can I help you, sweetie?”

Lois smiled at the endearment. At home in Metropolis, she would assume it was passive aggressive. But in Smallville everyone seemed to be “sweetie” or “dear” or “honey”.

“I’m looking for Clark Kent. He’s-”

“Oh! You must be Clark’s girl!” the woman said, interrupting her. “Well, I’m just so excited to meet you. You come on in. I’m Peggy Harper. You just let me know if you need anything. I’ve been working here at Smallville High for years — long before Clark was a student here, let alone a teacher. Clark’s room is right down the main hall. Just past the water fountain turn right, and his room is halfway up that hallway on the left. Room 206.”

Lois nodded, her brain trying to retain the directions while also processing being called “Clark’s girl” for the second time that day. She wanted to correct the woman — felt she should correct her for the sake of accuracy — but she didn’t know what to say. Certainly they weren’t just friends. Their relationship lay somewhere in the middle, undefined.

“Thank you,” she said instead, and followed her directions down the hall, past the water fountain, and down the second hall.

She paused in the doorway of his room, but before she could knock or say anything, he looked up, as if he had sensed her there. His smile knocked the wind from her chest. He stood and held out an arm, beckoning her in. She went to him immediately, and he wrapped her in a hug.

“How was your day? Did you find something to keep you busy?” he asked when they stepped apart, his hand still on her hip.

“I had a great day,” she said honestly. “I walked downtown, did some shopping, had lunch at Maisie’s, read my new book on your porch swing…. It was perfect. Except…I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, bending his head to kiss her.

“It is true!” a voice exclaimed, startling them apart. “I swear to god, I will murder you with my bare hands.”

Lois’ back was to the door, but she had zero doubt about who was standing in the doorway. She turned to face the fuming woman, already laughing.

“Lana, I-” Clark started, but he didn’t get far.

“Lois is here, and I had to hear about it from Marcy Wallace? I looked like a total idiot. She was all ‘I hear Clark’s got a girl in town for the Corn Festival’ and I was all, ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Apparently she heard from Mrs. Harper whose husband heard it from Maisie? You’ve got the whole Smallville gossip mill turning, and you didn’t think to tell me first?”

“Hi, Lana,” Clark said, gesturing with his free hand to Lois. “Lois is in town.”

Lana glared at him and turned to Lois. “Hey! It’s so good to see you,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m only mad at that dumbass. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Lois laughed again. “For the record, I thought you knew.”

“Of course you did. Because anyone with half a brain would assume Clark would have shared such wonderful news with his very best friend. Only a complete idiot would forget to mention-” Lana broke off suddenly, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Speaking of being a complete idiot, has Clark ever told you about the time-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Clark said hastily, holding up a hand to stop whatever story Lana was about to spill. “That’s not necessary!”

“Is it not?”

“We’re having dinner at the festival tonight. You want to join us?” Clark asked, suddenly contrite.

“We would love to,” Lana said with a satisfied smile. “I have to go. Pete’s coming home early tonight. We’re working the 4:30 shift at the Cloverbud booth. They’re selling popcorn for a fundraiser.”

“Cloverbud?” Lois asked.

Clark smiled at her affectionately. “It’s the junior version of 4H.”

“4:30. Popcorn,” Lana repeated meaningfully.

“We’ll be there,” Clark said, raising his hand in surrender. “We’ll buy lots of popcorn. Would I disappoint my goddaughter?”

“Good,” Lana said, turning on her heel and leaving.

Once she was out of sight, Lois turned to Clark and laughed. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell her. She’s not going to let you off easy.”

“She’ll live,” Clark replied, sliding his hand from her hip to the small of her back and grabbing his bag from his chair. “Come on, let me give you that tour.”

They wandered the halls leisurely, and Clark pointed out the library, the cafeteria, and the classrooms of friends he mentioned regularly. As they made their way through the main lobby of the building on their way to the gym to see his office, Lois passed the display cases with trophies and did a double take.

“Are these your trophies?” she asked, coming to a sudden stop.

“Well, they aren’t MINE,” he replied. “There are a few from when I played.”

She zeroed in on the biggest trophy, front and center in the display case, a large wooden trophy with a “State Champions” plaque at the top and a football emblazoned in the middle of an outline of the state of Kansas. She glanced at the year engraved on the bottom, and smiled when her suspicion was confirmed.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s not my trophy,” he reiterated. “It’s the team’s trophy.”

“Mmhmm,” she agreed. “You were just the team captain and quarterback.”

“Exactly,” he said with a smile, pressing gently on her back to steer her away from the trophies. “There’s no I in team, Lois.”

She laughed, and they walked through the gym and up the stairs to the locker rooms and offices, passing a weight room on the way. A group of boys was exiting as they passed, and they all greeted Clark, calling him Coach and bragging about new personal bests.

All of the boys eyed her curiously, but one looked familiar, and after a minute she recognized him as one of Clark’s students from the conference the previous Spring. She nodded to him and smiled.

“Hey, Ms. Lane,” he said with a grin. “You in town for the Corn Festival?”

She nodded, and he looked back and forth between her and Clark, his grin widening.

“All right,” Clark said. “Get out of here. Have fun this weekend. Show up Monday ready to work.”

They took off, calling “yes, sir!” and “okay, Coach!” as they disappeared down the stairs.

In his office, Clark spread his arms and smiled. “This is it,” he said. “Not much to see.”

The office was undecorated, but his desktop was tidy, empty aside from a stack of VHS tapes. A couple chairs sat opposite his desk, a rolling cart with a TV and VCR in the corner. He gestured to the door at the other end of his office. “That leads to the locker room,” he said.

They lingered for a bit, then wandered back downstairs and outside. He walked her around the building so she could see the football stadium, and then they made their way to the parking lot to his truck.

By the time they made it to his house and dropped off the truck, it was 4:30.

“We better hurry if you don’t want to risk incurring further wrath from Lana,” she teased, as Clark took her hand and led her toward the square. Around them, the sidewalks were noticeably busier than they had been earlier, as families made their own ways toward the festival.

“I hope you like popcorn,” he said. “I may have to purchase a lifetime supply to buy my way out of the doghouse.”

“Lucky for you, I love popcorn.”

The crowd thickened as they got closer to the square, and she could see that it had been transformed into a corn wonderland. Dried stalks of corn adorned every booth, and signs offered corn-themed snacks in every direction.

They made their way toward the popcorn sign adorned with four-leaf clovers and Lois could see Lana behind the booth with three girls. The little blonde looked so much like her mother that Lois had no doubt which one was Sophie. Sure enough, a moment later Lana spotted them and touched her daughter on the shoulder to get her attention before pointing in their direction.

“Uncle Clark!” she screeched, ditching her work assignment and bolting around the table, taking a flying leap into his arms. Clark swept her up, tossing her into the air and catching her in a hug.

Lois couldn’t help but smile at the picture they made.

Sophie was chattering full tilt about the popcorn booth, and Clark was obviously half listening while turning his attention to Lois.

“Does every woman in your life literally fly into your arms when they see you?” she teased, thinking about how similar Sophie’s greeting was to her own when he surprised her at work over the summer.

“Only the really special ones,” he said, shifting Sophie to one arm and tucking Lois’s hair behind her ear with the other.

She felt herself flush as her heart fluttered at his smile, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lana’s jaw drop.

“Hey, Soph,” he said. “Take a break for just a sec. I want to introduce you to someone. This is my friend, Lois. She came all the way from Metropolis for the Corn Festival.”

“Hi!” she said brightly before immediately resuming her sales pitch. “And all the money is going to go to the animals at the animal shelter! We’re going to buy them food and blankets and toys!”

Clark set her on the ground with a smile. “That’s awesome, Sophie. We’ll buy lots of popcorn, okay? Why don’t you start with two large ones, and then we’ll buy some to take home later?”

She let out a cheer and took off, back around the table, climbing up on a stool to fill the bags from the old fashioned movie theater popcorn popper.

Clark turned and grinned at Lois. “So…that’s Sophie. I’d say she’s a bit wound up because of the festival, but the truth is she’s pretty much always like this.”

Lois smiled, utterly charmed seeing him in his role as beloved uncle.

The popcorn booth was doing a booming business, so once they paid and accepted their snacks, they moved on, promising to see Sophie again at dinner time.

They wandered through the square, eating popcorn and browsing educational displays about the lifecycle and history of corn assembled by local elementary students and booths full of wares from local businesses.

One side of the square was set up with a children’s area, with a bounce house, a variety of child-friendly carnival games, and a craft area where kids could make a corn cob sailboat or corn husk doll.

On the stage, a band was setting up to play, and Clark pointed out the drummer, identifying him as David, the middle of Lana’s three brothers.

“You ready to see the Corn-o-Rama?” Clark asked as they approached a large art display of some sort.

Lois squinted, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. They stepped inside the three-walled structure, and she saw the walls covered in six foot squares, each with a small placard underneath identifying the artist. The pieces were individual murals, she realized, constructed entirely from kernels of corn.

“This is…I’ve never seen anything like this,” Lois said diplomatically

Clark burst into laughter. “There’s a different theme every year,” he said, gesturing to a large sign in the center of the booth that boasted, “Smallville: Homegrown”. On closer inspection she saw that many of the murals appeared to show fields of corn or wheat, or in one case, a large single stalk of corn.

“It’s…very creative. I didn’t even know corn came in so many colors.”

They wandered the display and Clark pointed out his mother’s contribution along with a piece from Marcy Wallace, the high school art teacher whose gossip had incensed Lana earlier.

They passed a trash can and tossed the rest of the popcorn, and Lois smiled as Clark reached for her now-free hand. She squeezed his hand gently and rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, and he smiled down at her. She smiled back, wanting to say something but unable to find the words.

“Clark!” a voice called, bringing them both back to reality.

Lois looked over and saw a man about their age with a young boy on his shoulders. Beside him, a woman who could only be his wife stood holding a baby girl on her hip. Her gaze flicked automatically to their joined hands, and she smiled.

“Hey!” Clark said, tugging Lois over to join them. “Lois, this is Tim Bryant. We went to school together and now he’s the Math teacher at Smallville High. And this is his wife, Becky. She’s a teacher at the elementary school.”

“Third grade,” Becky confirmed.

Tim stepped forward and offered his hand. Lois smiled, and refrained from mentioning that she remembered him as the friend who drank too much on his birthday and had to be driven home.

She dropped Clark’s hand and stepped forward to shake Tim’s hand.

“You are real,” Tim said, a teasing glint in his eye. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Really?” Clark said from behind her, obviously embarrassed. He rested his hands on her arms, just below her sleeves, rubbing gently.

Lois glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him, and he shrugged. She turned her attention back to Tim and Becky, leaning back against Clark, her smile widening when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You met Clark at the journalism conference, right?” Becky asked, shifting the baby from one hip to the other.

Lois nodded. “That’s right. Last spring.”

“Are you a teacher too? In Metropolis?”

“Oh, no,” Lois said, caught off guard. “I’m a reporter.”

“Lois works at the Daily Planet,” Clark said. “She was one of the speakers at the conference.”

“Oh wow,” Becky said, clearly a little surprised. Lois wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she looked almost wary, as if she was unsure why a big city reporter was here in their small town. “That must be an exciting job.”

“It can be,” Lois said cautiously, trying to steer the conversation back somewhere more comfortable. “Sometimes it’s a lot of boring phone calls and research. Did you grow up here in Smallville with Tim and Clark?”

“No,” she said immediately, smiling again. “I grew up in Harrisburg. It’s about an hour from here. Tim and I met in college.”

They chatted for a while longer before the kids got restless and Tim and Becky headed off to the kids area.

They made their way back across the square, heading for the booths selling food, where they were supposed to meet his parents shortly, and her stomach fluttered with nerves. She reached for his arm, wrapping both hands around it. He glanced over smiling happily, and then his eyes narrowed.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, surprised.

“Who, me?” she joked. “Nervous? No way.”

“Lois,” he said, stopping and turning to face her.

“Terrified,” she admitted. “What if they hate me?”

He laughed and cupped her cheek with his free hand. “They are going to love you. You don’t need to be nervous, I promise. My mom is so excited. Seriously, I can’t even tell you how excited. You might as well be royalty coming to visit.”

She laughed, her nerves soothed a little. She let her hands slide down his arm, holding his hand instead, and they continued walking.

“What do you think so far?” he asked. “Is it everything you dreamed of? Small town life? The Corn Festival?”

“It exceeds all my expectations,” she teased.

“I know it’s so normal it’s boring,” he said. “But it’s home.”

“Oh, I don’t know about boring,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve heard all about these small towns. Skeletons in every closet.”

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Do tell.”

They had reached the folding tables and chairs where they were supposed to meet his parents now, and they stopped by a table. She cast around, looking over the women working the cash box at the barbeque booth, the men flipping hamburgers and hotdogs on the grill.

“Sure, I mean ... the woman taking money at the counter probably takes a detour to see her secret lover every time she has to take a deposit to the bank." She grinned and nodded to their left. "And the grandma buying ice cream probably worked in a dance hall when she was our age, showing the troops a good time before they shipped out."

She laughed, getting into her story. "And see Mr. Regular Joe over there flipping burgers? Betcha he's a cross dresser!"

“Really?” Clark raised his eyebrows, a grin spreading across his face.

“Clark! Clark!” a woman’s voice interrupted them, and Lois turned to see a small blonde woman approaching rapidly.

“Mom!” Clark said, stepping forward and hugging her.

She turned to face Lois as soon as Clark released her, smiling and reaching for her, pulling her into a hug as well.

“You must be Lois,” she said as they pulled apart, and Lois couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s me,” she said, trying to squash the residual nerves. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Kent.”

“Martha, please!” she said, smiling widely. Her greeting was warm and genuine, and Lois felt herself relaxing.

“You sure are pretty. It’s all right if I tell her that, isn’t it, Clark?” Martha asked, turning to Clark as if for permission.

“I don’t know, Mom. Ask Lois,” he replied, winking at her. Lois blushed and rolled her eyes at him, and he closed the distance between them, resting his hand on the small of her back the way that she loved so much.

“Thanks, Martha,” she said, and she watched as Martha took in the picture they made, standing there together, her face almost giddy with happiness.

“You kids must be hungry,” she said. “Let’s get you something to eat over at the barbeque.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mom,” Clark said suddenly, raising a hand to stop her, his face serious. “Lois thinks the cook might be a crossdresser.”

There was a moment of silence between them, and Lois opened her mouth to protest, to explain to Martha that it was just a joke, to chide Clark for teasing her. And then Martha began to laugh.

“Oh, honey. That’s Clark’s father. I can’t get him to buy a dress for me, let alone himself.”

Lois wheeled on Clark, mouth agape. He burst out laughing, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or strangle him. She settled instead for burying her face in his chest.

“I’m going to murder you,” she muttered, and he laughed harder, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek.

He stroked her hair sweetly, and she pulled back just far enough to look up at him. “Seriously?” she chided.

“I couldn’t help it,” he said, laughing harder again. “It was too perfect.”

Lois turned to face Martha, not sure what she was expecting. Confusion. Annoyance. But Martha looked for a second as if she might cry before wiping that expression from her face and smiling at Lois tenderly.

“It was a joke,” she said unnecessarily. “And I’m pretty sure I was set up.”

Martha laughed. “I don’t doubt that for a minute.”

Clark went to order food and collect his father, leaving Lois alone at the table with Martha. She took a deep breath as they sat, trying to decide what to say, but Martha beat her to the punch.

She leaned forward and reached across the table resting a hand on Lois’ forearm. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, smiling warmly. “Clark has told us so much about you. We’ve been dying to meet you.”

Lois smiled, her eyes flicking over to where Clark was waiting in line at the booth, talking animatedly with his father, and lingered on his face.

“I’m so glad to be here,” she replied, forcing her gaze back to Martha.

“I think Clark was a little worried that you’d be bored,” she said, letting the unspoken question stretch between them.

Lois smiled, her gaze drifting back to him again.

“Clark worries too much,” she said with a smile.

Martha laughed, and Lois felt as if she had just passed a test she didn’t know she was taking.

Clark looked over at her just then, catching her staring, and smiled at her.

She tore her eyes from him, trying again to focus on his mother.

“I heard,” she said softly, as if to impart some particularly scandalous gossip, “that you aren’t entering the cornbread bake-off this year.”

Martha burst out laughing. “I see you’ve been talking to Maisie. It’s true, shocking as it may be. I just didn’t have time this year. I was busy working on my piece for the corn-o-rama. Plus I’ve been helping Susan out with the little ones.”

“Susan is Lana’s sister-in-law? They live next door to you?” Lois asked, and Martha nodded and smiled.

“Did Clark tell you she just had a baby?”

“A few weeks ago, right? A girl?”

Martha nodded again. “She has four older kids, so it’s been a lot on her plate. I’ve been trying to help out. Give her some breaks.”

“Give who some breaks?” Clark asked, placing a hotdog, a bag of chips, and a Diet Coke in front of Lois.

Lois smiled up at him over her shoulder and mouthed, “thank you.”

He kissed her cheek, and slid into the chair next to her, placing his own food in front of him.

“Give who some breaks?” Clark repeated, and Martha shook herself slightly as if to clear her head.

“Susan,” she answered. “I was just telling Lois that’s why I didn’t enter the cornbread bake-off.”

Clark snorted out a laugh, obviously remembering her reaction to the scandalous news last night, and Lois snickered.

Across the table, Jonathan was handing Martha a plate of food and sitting down beside her. Clark introduced them quickly, and Lois felt a twist of nerves as she wondered what to say next.

Then Clark raised his hand suddenly, flagging someone over, and she looked up to see Lana approaching with her family.

Lois looked around, taking in the whole scene — Clark and his family and his town and his ridiculous corn festival, and she had to stifle a laugh. Not a mocking laugh, but a truly and completely overwhelmed-with-joy laugh.

She had known when she made her plans to come that she would be happy to spend time with Clark, no matter what they were doing. But she never could have predicted just how happy everything else would make her.

Chapter Text

Clark leaned back in his folding chair, watching Lois and Lana talk animatedly about books, bonding over their love of Pat Conroy and their shared heartbreak over Beach Music. Lana spared him a glare when she talked about the night she spent crying over the book, and he knew she still hadn’t forgiven him for laughing at her.

He reached out and rested his hand on Lois’ back, stroking his thumb along the soft material of the sweater. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, tossing him a quick smile, and his heart stuttered. Then she slid a hand under the table, resting it on his knee and giving it a quick squeeze without missing a beat in her conversation, and he nearly lost the ability to breathe.

Having her with him like this, so sweet and casually affectionate, was a dream come true. And watching her fit in so seamlessly with his family was more than he could have hoped for.

He watched her face as she and Lana debated the culpability of various characters, and he couldn’t help but think that she was never more beautiful than this, when she was passionate about something.

Out of this corner of his eye, he saw his mother watching him watch Lois, and he turned his attention to her with a smile.

“I love her!” she mouthed silently, and he nodded, both acknowledging and agreeing.

They lingered a while longer, the sun slipping low in the sky. In the background, David’s band was back from a break and beginning a second set. Sophie and Caleb heard the music begin again and abandoned the game they were playing with their corn husk dolls to dance enthusiastically.

A group of a half dozen or so of his players sauntered by in a pack, wearing their letterman jackets despite the mild evening temperatures. They nodded to him respectfully, and he lifted his hand from Lois’ back just long enough to wave to them, before returning it to its previous position. She leaned back, apparently finished with her conversation, and nestled against his side.

He shifted, angling his body toward her and dipping his head to whisper in her ear. “Are you having fun?”

She pulled back far enough to look at him, and nodded, her smile confirming that truth.

He bent his head to her again. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly, thrilling at the little shiver she gave in response.

He straightened and looked at her, and her eyes were filled with a tenderness that made him want to soar. She reached up and stroked his cheek.

“Me too,” she whispered. And in that moment, he wanted to kiss her more than he ever had. He darted a quick glance across the table and realized all eyes were on them.

When his mother realized she had been caught staring, she nudged Jonathan who cleared his throat and patted the table. “Well, we better be heading out,” he said.

“Yes,” Martha agreed quickly. “We’ll leave the rest of the night to you young folks. We’d better be getting home.”

“We should go try to find my parents, actually,” Lana said, nudging an obviously confused Pete. “They said they were going to stop by tonight.”

They all stood and said their goodbyes, and before he knew it, he was alone with Lois.

“Lana is always so subtle,” Lois said, eyes twinkling, and he laughed.

“You think they decided we’d had enough of their company?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she agreed.

He slipped his arm around her waist and tilted his head in the general direction of his house. “You want to get out of here?”

She nodded and they made their way through the square and back up the three blocks to his house, where he opened a bottle of wine and poured them each a glass before leading her to the backyard.

“It’s so quiet here,” Lois said, settling into a chair at his patio table. “Peaceful. Even though you’re right downtown.”

He nodded, scooting his chair closer to hers before sitting. “It’s not Metropolis, that’s for sure.”

“My apartment is always loud. Even in the middle of the night. It took me a while to fall asleep last night. I guess I’m used to being lulled to sleep by the sound of cars honking and sirens blaring.”

He chuckled. “I always have a hard time sleeping the first couple of nights in a new place. When I was traveling, I was always surprised by how even the quiet sounds different. Different birds. Different bugs.”

She hummed in agreement, and stretched her hand out on the table between them, palm up, in invitation. He reached out immediately, threading his fingers through hers and raising her hand to his mouth for a kiss, and she sighed happily.

She turned to look at him, and he slid his hand from hers, cupping her cheek instead, and lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were warm and soft beneath his, and his heart clenched with delight at the way her breath caught in her throat.

“I’ve been dying to do that all night,” he said softly as he pulled away and started to sit back in his seat.

Her hand rose to his neck immediately, and she tugged him back to her. “Don’t stop,” she chided, laughing. “Me too.”

He complied happily, bringing his lips back to hers, and then deepening the kiss when she sighed happily. Her hand slid from his neck, over his shoulder to his arm, where she stroked gently, her fingers tracing the muscles through the thin material of his dress shirt.

He slid his hand from her check to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, increasing the intensity of the kiss until they were both breathless and she whimpered his name in a way that shot straight through him.

When she eased their lips apart, he rested his forehead against hers, eyes still closed, struggling to get his breathing back under control. He was stunned, unused to the feeling of being winded, unable to catch his breath.

He pulled back enough to look at her, smiling tenderly as he took in her kiss-swollen lips and the hazy look in her eyes.

“Clark,” she said, his name full of wonder. “This is…”

She trailed off, apparently unable to find any words to describe it, and he nodded, similarly perplexed.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking her cheek and kissing her gently one more time. The endearment just slipped out, like it had once before, when he was overwhelmed by her confession that she missed him.

That time, they had been on the phone and he hadn’t been able to see her reaction. He had wondered belatedly, if it was too much, too soon. If she might have felt uncomfortable, and he had managed to squash any future inclination to use it.

But this time, he could see her face, the pink of her cheeks, her bashful smile as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Good god, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, cradling her cheek again.

She blushed and laughed, turning her head and averting her eyes from his gaze. “You are ridiculous,” she said.

“I’m not kidding,” he said, gently guiding her to look at him again. “I cannot believe…”

His mind stumbled, unsure how to fill in the blank of the sentence. “…that you are here.” “…that you are real.” “…that you let me kiss you like that.”

He shook his head, frustrated with his inability to put into words how he was feeling. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He had words, he just feared they were too much. He wanted so desperately to tell her all the things he was feeling; overwhelmed and overjoyed and hopeful about his future in a way he never had been before. He wanted to quote poetry about her beauty and make bold declarations about the permanence of his feelings.

“This is….special,” he said finally, remembering when he had described their relationship to his parents that way before his trip to Metropolis. His thumb stroked her cheek where the rosy blush lingered. “You are special. So special to me.”

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath, and he knew she was struggling with the intensity of the moment.

“You’re special to me too,” she said when she opened her eyes again.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to push her for more. He wanted her to promise him that she would still feel this way when she went home; that she wouldn’t forget about him or decide a long distance relationship was too much work or fall for someone more suitable for her. He wanted to define their relationship. To give it a name. A title. He wanted so much more from her.

But he didn’t want to be greedy. She was already giving him so much more than he had ever imagined they could have.

That night in Miami, in the hotel bar, when she laughed at his stories and shared her secrets and sent sparks skittering up his arm when she touched his hand, he had ached with regret at the idea that he would never see her again. She had been so clear that she wasn’t open to pursuing a relationship. Even the next day, when he had kissed her goodbye with tears in her eyes, she hadn’t wavered.

And now she was sitting in his backyard kissing him senseless and telling him he was special to her. That was enough. That had to be enough.

She waited quietly for his response, and he could see her mind working. A smile spread across his face, and then he leaned forward to kiss her again. He could feel her smile against his lips, and his heart swelled tight in his chest. She made him so happy.

They traded sweet, gentle kisses as night fell around them. When they finally pulled apart, sitting back in their chairs, hands laced together between them, the sky had transformed from sunset to dusk, and the garden lights that lined his patio were flickering to life.

“Your parents seem wonderful,” she said.

“They are,” he said immediately. He smiled, remembering his mom’s whispered aside. “My mom loves you already. She told me so when you were busy talking to Lana. I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”

Lois smiled. “I really enjoyed talking to her. Your dad is harder to read.”

“That’s just my dad,” Clark said with a shrug. “He’s not as…effusive as my mom. And he tends to fade into the background when there’s a lot going on. I bet he’ll warm up and talk to you a lot more tomorrow.”

“Pete seems nice.”

He looked over at her, confused for a minute, and then started laughing. “I just realized that was the first time you met him. I didn’t even introduce you. I’m sorry.”

Lois laughed too. “It’s fine. I think we figured it out.”

Clark shook his head in amusement at his oversight.

“I’ve met Lana so many times, I’m sure it feels like I’ve met them both.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They’ve been Pete-and-Lana for so long, it almost feels like they are a single unit sometimes.”

“Did you ever imagine they would wind up married when you were younger? When you were growing up?”

“Hmm,” Clark said, casting his mind back to a childhood caught between his two best friends. “Not when I was young. I thought they hated each other. I didn’t understand the way they fought and sparred. I didn’t understand then that it was their way of relating to each other. By high school, I was starting to understand, but I still wasn’t sure they would ever figure it out. Or if they did, whether it would last.”

“You didn’t think they were serious?”

“Lana was always trying to talk to me about boys, and relationships, and who she had a crush on…no matter how many times I asked her to stop,” he went on. Lois snickered, and he rolled his eyes. “But she never talked to me about Pete. I don’t know if she didn’t know how to talk about those feelings, or if she was scared I would turn around and tell him…. I don’t know. She would tell me…way more than I ever wanted to know about most things. But Pete was just this unspoken off-limits topic.”

“So you weren’t sure if she really liked him or just liked tormenting him?”

He chuckled at the accuracy of her assessment and nodded. “Lana dated half the football team our junior year. At first I just thought she was Lana being Lana. But then I realized…she was trying to make Pete jealous. It almost backfired though. Because Pete doesn’t get jealous. He just thought that meant she was over him, and he was quietly heartbroken for a while, and then tried to move on.”

“Oh, no,” she said, obviously concerned for that teenaged boy, even though they both knew he grew up and got the girl. “What happened?”

“I told her to knock it off,” he admitted.

“You did what?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“She was going on and on about junior prom. A couple of guys had asked her, and she wouldn’t shut up about how she couldn’t decide who to go with. And finally I just told her…if she wanted Pete, she needed to tell him. And if she didn’t, she needed to leave him alone and stop rubbing her millions of suitors in his face, because she wasn’t making him jealous – she was hurting him. And he wasn’t going to compete in a competition he didn’t think he could win.”

“What did she say?” Lois asked, leaning forward, fully invested now.

Clark laughed ruefully and shrugged. “She said there was never any competition.”

Lois inhaled sharply, and Clark nodded, smiling at this long-buried memory.

“The next day, she sat down next to him at lunch and said, ‘Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to take me to prom. And I’m not going to date anyone else anymore. And next year, wherever you apply, I’ll apply too. And when we’re done with college, we’ll come home, and you’ll work for your dad, and we’ll have babies, and live happily ever after.”

“Oh my god,” Lois whispered. “And they did?”

“And they did,” he confirmed. “That was that.”

“He didn’t…? He wasn’t…shocked? Overwhelmed by that? His whole life just…planned out?”

Clark smiled and shook his head. “You’ve met Lana. She gets what she wants. And that life she offered him? That’s the only life Pete’s ever wanted. Since we were little boys. She knew that. And he knew that.”

“And they’re really still happy together? They seem happy, but…you know….”

“They still love to spar and snark at each other, but it’s all for show. They’re very happy. Lana doesn’t hesitate to tell me more than I want to know about her relationship with Pete now,” Clark said with a wry smile, and Lois laughed.

Lois was quiet for a minute, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was full of laughter. “I can’t imagine marrying my high school boyfriend. I just can’t even imagine what my life would look like now.”

He laughed at her obvious amusement. “You don’t think you’d still be madly in love?”

“God, no,” she said with a little shudder. “He was a nice guy. He was. He was sweet to me. But he was not particularly smart or interesting. We really didn’t have anything in common. It was honestly a relief when we went to different colleges and just ended things mutually and amicably. I have no idea where he is today or what he’s doing. I haven’t thought about him in years.”

“Yeah, not everyone is ready for a lifetime commitment with the person they thought was cute at sixteen,” he joked, choosing not to think too deeply about why it made him feel so good to hear her laugh at the idea of still being in love with a past boyfriend.

“What about you?” she said slyly, turning the full force of her gaze on him. “You didn’t want to do like Pete and Lana? Marry your high school girlfriend and settle down in your hometown? Am I going to run into a string of broken hearted high school girlfriends still pining for you tomorrow?”

He hesitated, caught off guard. “I… No, you aren’t going to run into any exes tomorrow.”

She laughed, eyes twinkling in the moonlight, and she looked so beautiful he wanted to go back to kissing her and forget about this conversation.

“They all left town? Too heartbroken to stick around?” she teased.

“Lois, I didn’t date in high school,” he said softly. “There are no high school girlfriends.”

“None?” she asked gently, tugging their joined hands from where they laid on her arm rest into her lap, bringing her free hand to join them, stroking the back of his hand.

He shook his head in confirmation.

“What about that horde of girls-”

“Oh, god,” he said, cutting her off. “I hoped you had forgotten about that.”

“Not a chance, farm boy,” she said with a laugh, and his heart fluttered the way it always did when she called him that.

“There was no horde of girls. I mean…” he ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. “There were…girls. Who liked me. But I didn’t… I didn’t want to lead them on.”

He paused for a minute, and she waited, stroking his hand and giving him time. The way she always did.

“I never felt like I fit in here,” he said finally. “I loved Smallville. It was my home. It was…the only home I’d ever known. But I felt different. I felt…like I belonged somewhere else. I knew I wasn’t going to stay. I wasn’t Pete. I never dreamed of coming back right after college and settling down. It just seemed easier not to date. Not to build those bonds. To stay…free and untethered.”

He sighed and laughed softly at the irony. “Of course, I wound up back here after all.”

“Do you regret it then,” she asked softly. “Not dating back then? Settling down with someone you met in high school? You could be married with a couple kids by now too….”

His eyes went to her face immediately, and found her watching closely for his reaction, brow furrowed.

“No,” he said, without hesitation. “No, I don’t regret that at all. There was no one I- No. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. I have no regrets on that front.”

She leaned over and kissed him, and his heart leapt in his chest. He kissed her back, his mind awhirl with the feeling of her lips on his, her hand on his cheek.

When she pulled away and sat back in her chair, a little smile played at her lips, and she regarded him again with an impish look on her face.

“I understand not wanting to get married and settle down at seventeen. But you really didn’t want to take one of those cheerleaders to the barn and make out with her in the hayloft?”

“I’ll take you to the barn and make out with you in the hayloft,” he countered, winking at her.

She laughed, long and hard, completely caught off guard. She looked down at her lap, cheeks pink again, and then looked at him over her shoulder.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, farm boy,” she said, still laughing, but with a look that told him she wasn’t kidding. And he had never wanted anything more.

*****

Clark listened to Lois’ footsteps, moving back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom upstairs, as he sped through thousands of pushups on the living room floor. Last night – all of yesterday really – had been amazing, and he was flying high emotionally. He was worried that if he didn’t burn off some energy fast, he was going to be flying physically too.

The Corn Festival 5K started in an hour, and he needed to run it at a normal speed. Right now, he didn’t trust himself not to tear through the course in a blur of raging hormones.

He heard her step on the top stair and slowed his pace significantly. She descended quickly, slowing to an abrupt stop on the last step, and he knew by the way her heart sped up that she had spotted him. He stifled a smile. At least he wasn’t the only one affected by this crazy tension between them.

He stopped, hopping to a standing position, and turned to face her.

“Is this how you start every morning?” she asked, her eyes wandering his body slowly before landing on his face.

He grinned, allowing himself to revel for a minute in her obvious desire for him. “Usually,” he said. “Sometimes I run.”

Her eyes moved down again, and he watched her assess the sleeveless Smallville Tigers Football t-shirt and athletic shorts he was wearing.

“Is that what you are wearing?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

He looked down, suddenly self-conscious. “Why? What’s wrong with this?”

She smirked and let out a huff of laughter as she walked toward him. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Except every woman there is going to be tripping over her own feet trying to get a better look.”

He laughed and shook his head, flattered and embarrassed. She stopped in front of him and hesitated. He watched her, curious and amused, as her eyes traveled past his shoulders and over his arms.

She reached out tentatively, curling her fingers lightly around his arm. Her hand was cool against his skin, and his heart raced at her touch. She held still there, glancing up at him, as if checking to make sure he welcomed her touch. He grinned at her, and her gaze fell back to her hand, and she trailed her fingertips over his tricep, tracing the hard knot of muscle.

He flexed and heard her inhale. Her eyes flew back to his. “You did that on purpose,” she accused.

He laughed, not even pretending she was wrong. “Seemed like you might appreciate that,” he teased.

“God, Clark,” she said, her eyes following her fingers again.

She let her hand fall to her side, looking up at him, mock suspicious. “How is it that you are smart, and sweet, and successful and you look like…this,” she said, waving a hand vaguely in his direction, “and you’re still single? Am I missing something? Do you have some big flaw I’m missing?”

He hesitated, wanting desperately to tell her that he didn’t want to be single. He wanted to belong to her.

“Just picky,” he said softly, settling his hands at her waist. “I was waiting for someone special.”

“Good answer,” she teased, lifting her other hand to curl around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“We could just skip the 5k,” he mumbled against her mouth, not remotely ready to let go of her.

She laughed, pulling out of his embrace. “Not a chance, Coach. I don’t need all the little old ladies in Smallville gossiping about how I corrupted Mr. Perfect and made him abandon his duties.”

He laughed and looked her up and down far more blatantly than he normally would, figuring turn about was fair play. She was wearing a light purple racerback tank top, tight black leggings that came to mid calf, and running shoes.

“Are you going to run?” he asked. She had been ambivalent about running when they made their plans for the weekend, claiming she might sleep in since it was her vacation.

“If I’m awake, I’m not going to miss my chance to show you up,” she said with a challenging look.

“Lois, I told you. We aren’t racing. We are running as a pack. It’s a team bonding activity.”

“Well, then I’ll just be at the front of the pack,” she said, a glint in her eyes.

“You are the most competitive person I’ve ever met,” he said, not for the first time.

They ate a quick breakfast and then headed down to the square to get her registered. Then they hung around the start line, letting the team gather around them. The race was full of kids from the high school. His wasn’t the only team that ran together – the girls soccer team and the track team were there together as well, and he saw a handful of kids he recognized from class who weren’t on any teams there as well.

Recent alumni were gathering too, catching up with friends who hadn’t yet graduated. Across the sea of faces, Henry gave him a wave, and Clark smiled and waved back.

“Do you remember Henry?” he asked Lois, nodding in his direction. “He was in your master class.”

Lois followed his gaze and smiled. “Sure,” she said. “Sarah’s crush. Did that ever…?”

“They went to prom together,” Clark said, laughing that this was what Lois remembered and was curious about. “But I have no idea what happened beyond that.”

“Didn’t he graduate?” Lois asked. “He was one of your seniors last year?”

Clark nodded. “He’s at Wichita State now. But everybody comes home for the Corn Festival,” he teased, parroting Maisie’s words from the first night of her visit. Lois had repeated the phrase in the same sing-songy voice every time someone mentioned seeing a friend or relative who had moved away but was back in town for the weekend.

Clark looked up again and saw that Henry had made his way through the crowd, gathering Travis and Alex along the way. He could see them talking in whispers and nodding in their direction.

“We’re about to have company,” he said, ducking his head and speaking in Lois’ ear. She looked up at him puzzled, and then she followed his gaze and understood it was a reunion of the kids from the conference, no doubt very curious to see her in Smallville.

“Ms. Lane?” Henry said, obviously appointed the spokesperson for the group.

Behind him, he could see Travis mouth “told you it was her” to Alex.

“Hi,” Lois said. “It’s nice to see all of you again. How college, Henry?”

“It’s great!” he said enthusiastically. “So…you’re in Smallville….”

“I am,” she said with a laugh. “Surprise.”

Clearly emboldened by the boys breaking the ice, Elise and Hannah appeared in matching track uniforms, whispering excitedly.

“Hello, girls,” Lois said.

“Hi!” Elise said, ever bubbly. “We heard you were here, but we didn’t believe it!”

Lois laughed, and Clark shook his head in resignation.

“Believe it,” Lois said. “How are you?”

“I’m editor this year,” Hannah said immediately, bursting with pride at her newly elected position.

“I heard!” Lois said immediately. “That’s wonderful. You’re going to do a great job.”

Clark’s heart swelled in his chest watching her with his kids, talking to them, encouraging them. They had talked about her nonstop after returning from the conference, and they still mentioned her from time to time and perked up when he used her articles to illustrate concepts they were working on. His girls especially, he knew, worshiped her, and watching her now with them reminded him of how awed he had been by her that first weekend.

She glanced over at him and caught him watching her, and judging by the sweet smile she gave him, she had pretty well guessed the gist of his thoughts. She started to reach for him, and then stopped and dropped her hand back to her side, realizing, he guessed, that they were in front of his students and his team and he might not want to show affection in front of them.

He reached out and rubbed her back, earning him another smile, but this time one that made him wish very much that this race was over and they could go back to his house. Alone.

Behind him, two of his defensive backs were engaged in some sort of argument that seemed to be heating up, and he had no desire to deal with a bunch of hotheads today. He turned his back on the conversation with his newspaper staff and sorted out the conflict between his players.

When he turned back to the conversation, sliding his hand back to its previous position on Lois’ back, his blood ran cold.

“It was crazy,” Elise was saying. “No one else even saw them out there. The lifeguards totally wouldn’t have seen them if he hadn’t taken off.”

“And he was so fast,” Travis added. “One second he’s standing there looking out to sea like some dude in a sad movie, and then BOOM he’s gone.”

Lois turned and looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It was nothing,” he said quickly, trying to laugh it off, though he felt like doing anything but laughing.

“Nothing? You saved two little boys?”

Over her shoulder, he could see his kids shifting nervously, and he could tell they were wondering now if they had done something wrong by telling her. He needed to get control of this situation. It was suspicious enough that he had done it, it was more suspicious that he hadn’t told her.

“I just did what anyone would do,” he said, realizing belatedly that those were the exact words he had said when he pulled the baby stroller from the intersection outside The Daily Planet.

She raised an eyebrow, and he knew she recognized those words too. He took a slow breath, trying not to panic.

“He told me to work on my sprints in the off season if I wanted to be that fast,” Travis piped up. “And it totally worked. You should have seen last week’s game. We kicked butt!”

Lois laughed, and Clark had never wanted to hug that boy as much as he did in that moment.

“I heard all about it,” she said. “You got 151 yards in the game? Sounds like you deserved that game ball.”

Travis’ face was practically glowing with pride.

“And a 72 yard touchdown on a wheel route?” she added. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”

Travis’ jaw dropped and he looked from Lois to his coach.

“Don’t get her started,” Clark said, teasing. “She has a lot of opinions on which routes to run. She thinks she can do my job better than I can.”

“I never said that!” she insisted. “I just said you rely too heavily on flat routes, which are the safe choice but aren’t going to get you to State.”

“I think I’m in love,” Travis said, and Lois burst out laughing.

Clark just shrugged and smiled. He knew the feeling.

The whistle blew, indicating it was time to line up, and they drifted to the start line. Elise and Hannah made their way back to their track teammates, but Travis and Henry stuck close as other members of the football team both past and present filled in around them.

“You going to run with us, Ms. Lane?” Henry asked as they stretched, smiling when she nodded in the affirmative. “Awesome. We’ll go easy for you.”

“Oh, god,” Clark said automatically. “Now you’ve done it.”

The gun fired, and they were off. The pace was slow at first, with all the runners crammed in together, but eventually the crowd began to disperse and they were able to stretch out their legs a little.

Lois gave him a little grin and pulled ahead and he matched her pace. They wound through the streets of downtown Smallville, past the square and Maisie’s diner, past the general store and the barber, and then up into the residential streets, where friends and neighbors sat on their porches or stood on the sidewalks cheering them on.

Every time he thought they had found a comfortable pace, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and grinned, and then increased the pace.

“We’re supposed to be running as a pack,” he reminded her, glancing back at his team.

“We can keep up!” Travis interjected. “Don’t hold her back, Coach.”

“Yeah, Coach. Don’t hold me back,” Lois teased, hitting a new stride and weaving around a clump of runners who had started out strong but were fading at the halfway point.

He knew she enjoyed running. She had played tennis competitively through high school and college, and still ran regularly both on the treadmill at the gym and through the park in her neighborhood. But for some reason he hadn’t expected her to be so graceful. He loved watching her. It was probably the martial arts training, he realized. She was perfectly in control of every part of her body, each movement smooth and flowing into the next. She was a joy to watch, and he made no effort to hide his admiration.

They ran in companionable silence for a while, and then he grinned and slowly edged in front of her. Immediately she quickened her pace, and he stifled a laugh. He held steady for a few minutes, then edged ahead again. Again, she pulled even immediately. He couldn’t stop the laughter that time. Her shirt was damp with sweat between her shoulder blades and her breathing was ragged, but she was not about to admit defeat.

Behind him, he could hear his team starting to grumble, some of the bigger defensive players, falling back, unable to keep up.

“Look alive!” he yelled back over his shoulder. “Half-mile to go! Finish strong!”

He felt the morale pick up, and he glanced over his shoulder again, full of affection for this team of players who worked so hard for him on and off the field.

“We! Are!” he shouted, beginning their pre-game locker room chant.

“Fighters!” they replied, voices overlapping, caught off guard.

“We! Are!” He glanced over at Lois, and saw her smiling.

“Winners!” they cried, more voices joining in this time, finding their rhythm.

“We! Are!”

“TIGERS!” they screamed, the chant devolving into random yells and cheers along with more than a few growls.

“You really are something, Clark Kent,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear, and he beamed at her, basking in her admiration.

The finish line was in sight now, and apparently that was what she had been waiting for. She kicked it into high gear, sprinting away from him while he was still off balance from her last comment.

He laughed and shook his head, giving chase. He could see her laughing as he gained on her, closing the gap as they approached the finish line. She was pouring it on, giving it everything she had, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to let her have this victory that she had so clearly earned or pull ahead just to give her hell.

Behind him, his team cheered them on, their loyalty split.

She was steps from the finish line when he closed the distance, grabbing her around the waist and spinning her around, before putting her back on the ground right in front of the finish line, and letting her step across before him.

She took a few final strides, slowing down, and then bent over and placed her hands on her knees, panting.

“You aren’t even breathing hard!” she whined when she caught her breath. “How? That is so not fair.”

He laughed and reached for her, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m disgusting,” she protested with a laugh. “You don’t want to hug me right now.”

“Trust me, I do,” he said, laughing. She wound her arms around his neck, and gazed at him, and the whole world fell away. The race and his students and the entire town full of gossips. None of that mattered at all anymore.

His eyes went to her mouth, and when he looked back up at her eyes, she raised her eyebrows and glanced meaningfully at his students, who had clustered around them, giving high fives and talking animatedly while obviously keeping an eye on their coach and his mystery lady friend.

He sighed and nodded reluctantly. She laughed softly and stroked his cheek, before stepping back out of his embrace and turning to face the students who were clamoring for their attention.

Chapter Text

“Sure, Mom. Six is fine,” Clark said into the phone.

“Is Lois there with you?” Martha asked, and Clark smiled at the eagerness in her voice.

“She’s upstairs getting ready. We’re going to head back to the square for a few hours before we head your way.”

After the race, they had come back to the house to shower and change and wound up sitting around talking until lunchtime. But now they were ready to venture back out, and were planning to meet up with a few of his friends for a while before heading straight to his parents’ for dinner. He had told Lois there was no need to change before dinner, but she had insisted that she wanted to freshen up before they headed out, so he had been waiting for her when his phone rang.

“Oh, that's nice,” Martha said. “It seems like…she’s having a nice time.”

Clark laughed. “I think so, Mom.”

“She’s just the prettiest thing. And she’s so funny. She had me in stitches yesterday.”

“I know,” he agreed. “She's great. I’m excited for you to get to spend some more time with her tonight. I think you two have more in common than you’d think.”

“How has it been having her stay at your house?” she asked, her voice low and excited, as if someone might overhear.

“It’s fine,” he said. The understatement of the century. He heard her footsteps on the stairs and smiled. “I gotta go, Mom. We’ll be there a little early. I want to give Lois a tour before it gets dark.”

“Ok,” she agreed. “We’ll see you when you get here.”

He said goodbye and hung up the phone, then looked up just in time to see Lois finish descending the stairs. She paused at the bottom, hands clasped behind her back, a bashful smile on her face, and his mouth dropped open.

“What is this?” he asked, utterly charmed.

She had shed her trendy jeans and designer top, exchanging them for a sweet floral dress that looked far more Smallville than Metropolis.

“When in Smallville…” she said with a little shrug, clasping her hands in front of her. She looked so nervous, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms to her. She smiled and came straight to him, burying her face in his neck, and he stroked her hair.

She lifted her head, and he held her at arm’s length, looking at her.

“You like it?” she asked coyly.

“You look beautiful in everything,” he said. “But…yeah. I like it a lot. I didn’t imagine you owned anything like this.”

“I bought it yesterday,” she confessed. “At that little store on the square? The one with the moon and stars hanging in the window? The woman who worked there was really sweet. She helped me pick it out.”

“That’s Maggie Pritchard,” he said with a smile. “She’s my friend Charlie’s mom. With my mom out of the mix, she’s shoo-in to win the cornbread bake-off.”

Lois laughed, and he was surprised by how much he enjoyed seeing his little town through her eyes. He had been so worried before she arrived that she would hate it – that she would be uncomfortable or bored or appalled. But instead, she seemed genuinely delighted by all of it. Even when she laughed, it was done fondly. It may be way outside her comfort zone, but she gave no indication that she found it beneath her.

“No wonder she was in such a good mood yesterday,” Lois teased.

They gathered their stuff and headed out, strolling casually to the square in a way that had become deeply comfortable and familiar in less than 48 hours.

At the festival, they wandered around, watching a corn shucking contest, eating caramel apples, and stopping to talk with various friends and neighbors. After each conversation, Clark would fill her in on how that friend was related to various other people she had met. Eventually it became a guessing game, with Lois coming up with more and more preposterous connections.

“No wait! Don’t tell me…” she said, as his boss, the high school principal walked away. “He’s the illegitimate son of the town sheriff and the long-lost identical twin brother of the mayor.”

“Close,” he said, laughing. “His wife is an elementary teacher who works with Tim’s wife, Becky. And his brother is married to Pete’s cousin.”

Lois laughed. “I’m never going to keep all this straight. I really hope there’s not a pop quiz at the end of the weekend.”

“Oh,” he added, as if it were merely an afterthought, “and the town sheriff is a woman our age. I took her to senior prom.”

Her head whipped around. “You did not!”

“I did,” he said, trying to hold back his laughter.

“But you said-”

“We just went as friends,” he clarified. “I’m sure Rachel will be around at some point today, and you can meet her.”

Near the stage in the center of the square, they found Lana and Pete waiting for Sophie’s appearance in the Corn Princess competition. Caleb screamed when he spotted Clark, despite having just seen him the night before, and Clark lifted him up onto his shoulders for a better view of the stage, where the Corn Queen was currently being crowned.

“Corn Queen?” Lois asked skeptically.

“Hey, Corn Queen is serious business,” Lana replied immediately. “She has official duties around town – ribbon cuttings, Christmas tree lightings….”

Clark watched with a smirk as Lois narrowed her eyes, considering Lana’s response. “I don’t suppose,” she said. “That you were the Corn Queen.”

“Three years in a row,” Pete said with a laugh.

The teenaged girls filed off the stage, the Corn Court wearing their sashes and crowns, and filtered into the audience. The queen and one of the members of her court, two seniors who he had taught three years running, sashayed by and gave him a flirtatious look that made him frown with disapproval.

“Hey, Mr. Kent,” Miranda said, while Jessica giggled behind her.

“Congratulations,” he said, nodding to the crown.

She thanked him, and they ran off blushing and giggling. He turned to find Lois and Lana with identical smirks.

“Someone has a little crush?” Lois teased

“They all have a little crush,” Lana corrected.

“Lana,” he said, trying to convey his displeasure to no avail. She ignored him entirely and continued talking to Lois.

“You should hear them. Every year they do senior superlatives – Most Likely to Succeed, et cetera, and they always include a Favorite Teacher superlative. You can guess who’s won the last three years. Rumor has it, the girls call it the “Hottest Teacher” award.

Clark rolled his eyes and sighed. “They’re children, Lana.”

“Yeah, yeah. We know. You disapprove,” she said with an eye roll. She turned to Lois again and whispered conspiratorially. “It’s not just the students. It’s the teachers too. You should hear the gossip in the teacher’s lounge when he’s not around.”

He sighed, and Lois wrapped her hands around his arm and rested her head against his shoulder, gazing up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “We know how hard it is, being adored by everyone around you. You have our deepest sympathy.”

Pete snorted out a laugh, and Clark smiled, forgetting for the moment about the awkwardness of teenaged girls and their crushes, and just enjoying watching Lois become comfortable with his best friends.

Caleb started to squirm suddenly, bored and ignored up on his shoulders, and Clark shot out his opposite arm to grab Caleb’s ankle before he could accidentally kick Lois.

“You want to get down, buddy?”

“I wanna play catch! I brought my football,” he said, bouncing up and down.

Clark hesitated. A quick glance around told him there was room to play off to the side, but he didn’t want to abandon Lois.

“Go,” she said, as if reading his mind. “I’m fine.”

She dropped her hands from his arm and took a step back, and he missed her touch immediately. It must have shown on his face, because she laughed affectionately and stretched up to kiss his cheek.

He grinned as he lifted Caleb from his shoulders and watched him scamper to the large bag at Lana’s feet, retrieving a soft football. Then he herded the little boy off to the side of the crowd so they could play catch. He saw Lana lean in toward Lois conspiratorially and hesitated for only a second before listening in on their conversation, bracing himself for more of Lana’s nonsense, and wanting to be able to rescue Lois if it got out of hand.

“So,” Lana said slowly. “Seems like you’re enjoying your visit.”

Lois laughed. “Let’s just say, I’m having even more fun than I expected.”

“I still can’t believe he didn’t tell me you were coming,” Lana grumbled. “He’s been all cagey talking about you for months. I thought maybe your visit in June didn’t go well, and you’d moved on.”

Lois laughed dismissively, and his heart fluttered at the sound.

“Our visit in June was…wonderful. And then he left for a month, and I was honestly a mess. I… I missed him a lot more than I expected. It was…not great.”

He inhaled sharply at the vulnerability in her voice. He was glad that she had shared his longing, but he hated for her to hurt.

“And then his letters started arriving,” she continued, her voice filled with wonder. “And then he changed his return flight so he could have a longer layover and visit me on the way home. And…. “

“He what?” Lana asked, obviously stunned.

“Yeah,” Lois said.

“So that’s how this all… And now you’re officially together?” Lana asked eagerly.

Lois hesitated. “We haven’t really discussed…. I don’t know exactly what we are. Lana, I don’t think he’s holding out on you to drive you crazy. I think we’re both having a hard time…. Our lives are so different. We live so far apart. We’re still trying to figure out what this means.”

“So, you’re saying I should lay off,” Lana said with a grin.

“Eh,” Lois said. “He can deal with some good-natured teasing. I’m just saying don’t take it personally if he’s not saying much.”

“You missed!” Caleb squawked with delight as his throw went wild.

Clark laughed and tuned out Lois’ conversation, deciding she was more than capable of handling Lana, and focused on Caleb for a while.

By the time Caleb grew tired of their game, Sophie was about to take her turn on stage, and they wandered back over to the crowd. Caleb went to hang all over his dad for a while, and Clark came to stand behind Lois, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek. She hummed happily, resting her hands on his, and he smiled. He thought guiltily about the conversation he had eavesdropped on, and wondered if she was reluctant to define things between them because she was unsure of what she wanted, or if she was just waiting for him to broach the topic.

He had been hesitant to push, knowing how reticent she had been initially. Things had definitely shifted between them after his letters and his second visit. There was no misinterpreting the way she flew into his arms or responded to his kiss. But then the distance was there between them again, and though they talked daily, they carefully avoided any discussion of their feelings until her heartbreaking confession about missing him.

Having her here in Smallville was incredible. And it was as if a switch had been flipped. They couldn’t stop touching. He couldn’t be near her without holding her hand, wrapping his arms around her, resting his hand on her back. And she clearly welcomed his touch and reciprocated with her own. There was nothing he loved more than the way she hung on his arm or stroked his cheek…except for the way she kissed him.

He wanted desperately to take their relationship to the next step, to talk openly about their feelings and make a commitment of some sort. The thought of her seeing anyone else made him sick with grief and jealousy. He pushed the thought from his mind, and focused on enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

Sophie charmed the crowd with the talent portion of her routine, a song and dance number to the tune of The Good Ship Lollipop with the lyrics changed to The Good Crop Candy Corn.

Lois tried valiantly to hold in her laughter, but finally broke during the final chorus. “Is this real life?” she whispered, cracking him up as well.

“I’m pretty sure this is one of Lana’s old routines,” he whispered back.

Lana turned to look at them, and Lois twisted in his arms, trying to hide her laughter. Lana tried to glare at him, but lost the battle and started laughing too when Pete muttered, “I helped her create a clone, and we’re all going to pay the price.”

After Sophie was crowned Corn Princess, an ending to the event that seemed almost inevitable, they drifted apart, with Lana and Pete promising to meet them and the rest of their friends in an hour near the band and dance floor, once they had foisted their kids off on the grandparents.

They watched some corn husking and then a corn on the cob eating contest that was almost as disturbing as it was hilarious. Clark shook his head in amusement when he spotted a few of his players lined up at the tables for the contest.

Over in the judged exhibits area, they found the cornbread bake off, and Clark nudged Lois and nodded toward the blue ribbon on Maggie Prichard’s entry.

Ribbons had been handed out in the Corn-o-Rama, as well, and Clark wondered if his mother would be pleased or disappointed with her second place finish.

Eventually they made their way to the band area, and found a handful of couples out on the floor dancing and a few more seated in the white folding chairs off to the side. Clark spotted Tim and Becky out on the dancefloor, but no one else from their group seemed to have arrived yet. He was about to ask Lois if she wanted to go grab a drink first, when he heard someone behind them calling their names.

“Mr. Kent? Ms. Lane?”

They turned and saw Sarah and Henry approaching. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lois’ gaze flick to their joined hands and a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

“Sarah!” Lois said, sounding genuinely excited to see the girl.

“I heard you were in town,” the girl replied, flushing with pleasure at the enthusiastic greeting.

“I am! But I didn’t expect to see you. I thought you were at KSU?”

“I am,” she said, nodding. “But everyone-”

“-comes home for the corn festival,” Lois finished, laughing. “So I keep hearing.”

Sarah laughed. “I didn’t expect to see you here, though,” she said with raised eyebrows and a grin.

Lois laughed and shrugged, then shot Clark a quick smile before replying. “The last time I saw you, I would not have imagined I’d be spending this weekend at the Smallville Corn Festival either.”

He chuckled and slid his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip and giving her a little squeeze.

“Tell me about your classes,” Lois said. “Are you taking anything fun?”

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “I can’t take any electives in my major until next year. They all have prerequisites. But my 101 class is fun.”

She didn’t sound very convincing, and Lois cocked her head.

Sarah shrugged. “It’s pretty basic. I’m not really learning anything new yet. Everyone else seems to be learning a lot, but…it’s a lot of review for me.”

Lois laughed and bumped her hip against him. “Ah, so you’re saying your high school teacher may have prepared you a little better than most?”

Sarah laughed. “Something like that. I really like my 101 professor though. He also teaches an investigative reporting elective that is apparently super hard to get into, but I’m going to try next year.”

“Is it a lottery?” Lois asked. “Or would my recommendation help?”

Sarah’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know, honestly.”

“Well, let me know if you need me to give him a call.”

“Seriously?” Sarah looked as if she was about to have a heart attack, and Clark forced himself not to laugh at her. To be fair, he’d had his share of shock and awe moments when it came to Lois.

“Of course,” she assured her. “I can’t guarantee you it will do any good, but I’m happy to make some calls and give you my recommendation.”

They talked for a while longer about Sarah and Henry’s classes as more of Clark’s friends began to arrive, and finally the younger couple said goodbye and went in search of their own circle of friends.

There was a good mix of people Lois had already met along with more friends who were new to her, and Clark smiled as she jumped right in. Before he knew it, she had been drawn into a conversation about a popular television show he had never seen, and he drifted over to catch up with Pete for a while.

“Lana’s smitten with your new girl,” Pete said. “She won’t shut up about how perfect you two are together. She’s convinced she deserves all the credit. Apparently she set you two up at the conference?”

Clark snorted. “If by ‘set us up’, you mean ‘embarrassed me at dinner after I invited Lois to join us.’”

He drifted back to that weekend, and realized that – to be fair – it was Lana’s insistence that had led to their drinks in the hotel bar after dinner, and for that he did owe her a debt of gratitude.

Pete changed the subject abruptly, apparently at his limit for gossip, and they fell into a discussion about football and the team’s chances for another run at State. The magic word attracted more attention, as always, and soon a whole group of guys were clustered around him talking about State championships both past and present.

The topics of conversations and configurations of participants shifted naturally as the afternoon wore on, and eventually Clark found himself seated next to Lois, but participating in an entirely different conversation. While he talked to Pete, Tim, and Charlie about the unseasonably warm weather and its effect on the harvest, he could hear Lois being introduced as “Clark’s friend from Metropolis” to Amanda Quinn, the new social studies teacher at the high school, who had just joined them at their table.

After Amanda had moved to town last year, there had been an awkward period of speculation when the two of them had socialized at a few group events early in the school year. He had done nothing to encourage that speculation, and they had never so much as been on a date, but they were in the same social circle, and he frequently found himself thrust into the role of her companion when they were the only two unattached.

She was undeniably pretty, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, but he hadn’t felt any of the sparks others had clearly hoped for, including possibly Amanda. By Christmas break, she had seemed a little too hopeful that those rumors might hold a kernel of truth, and Clark had made an effort to give her some extra distance.

Immediately Amanda began quizzing Lois about how she knew Clark and how long they had been friends, but Lois didn’t seem to mind. It was just more of the same for her, and she seemed to be tolerating the magnifying glass of Smallville’s local gossip machine quite nicely.

He tried to tune out their conversation and focus on his own, but gradually he could sense Lois stiffening.

“I could just go on and on,” he heard Amanda say cheerfully. “He’s such a sweetheart. This other time, Clark and I were at dinner-”

Whatever else Amanda was saying was drowned out by the sound of Lois’ racing heart. He was just about to turn around and break into the conversation and check on her, when he felt her hand on his thigh.

His own heart started to race, and he turned to her immediately, tucking her hair behind her ear and leaning in to whisper to her. “Come dance with me?”

She nodded, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. He stood and held out a hand to her, and she took it immediately, rising to stand next to him.

“Excuse us,” he said to the group at large. “I was promised a dance to this song. It’s one of my favorites.”

He slid his hand onto the small of her back and guided her away from the group before anyone had a chance to comment. A slow song was playing, thankfully, and he led her out onto the floor and opened his arms to her. She was stiff and awkward in his arms, and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

“I didn’t know you liked this song,” she said quietly.

He looked at her for a minute, confused, and then laughed. “Lois, I don’t even know what song this is. I just wanted to dance with you.”

She smiled, more genuinely this time, but he could still feel the tension radiating from her body.

“You sure you didn’t want to dance with Amanda?” Her tone was joking, but suddenly he understood.

“I didn’t ask Amanda. I asked you,” he pointed out, tightening his grip on her waist.

“Seems like you two do a lot of things together,” she said with a shrug.

“You’re jealous,” he said, laughing at the absurdity of it. He could not believe this woman he so clearly adored, who he had pursued despite feeling utterly hopeless that she could ever be interested in him, could be jealous of his affection.

She jerked back, her face a mask of amused condescension. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me, home alone, in a shlumpy bathrobe, crying in a tub of Rocky Road? In your dreams, Kent.”

He laughed harder, and she glared at him.

“No, honey. I would not like that,” he said once he stopped laughing, lifting a hand from her waist to cup her cheek. “I don’t want you to be jealous. Or sad. Or angry at me. I want you to know that you have nothing to be jealous about. I don’t want to dance with Amanda. Or anyone else. I only want to dance with you.”

She hesitated and then the annoyance slid from her face, and she smiled at him tentatively. “I’m sorry,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said, moving his hand back to her waist and tugging her close. She melted into him this time, and he sighed happily at the way she felt so right in his arms. She was having the same unsettled feeling about their relationship that he was, he realized. Those undefined, undiscussed boundaries were quietly eating at both of them. He resolved to talk to her about it before she left, but not here, not now.

For now, he focused on dancing with her, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. She nestled her head against his neck, and sighed, her breath tickling his neck and sending a shiver through him. He stroked her back, thinking suddenly that by this time tomorrow she would be landing in Metropolis.

The song ended and a faster song began. She pulled out of his arms with a sweet smile, and he looked around, realizing that they had been joined on the dance floor by Pete and Lana as well as Charlie and Jenny.

“We can go sit back down,” he said as the crowd on the dance floor began to arrange themselves into lines.

“No way,” she said. “I want to dance.”

“Lois, this isn’t… you know this is a line dance, right? There’s a specific set of dance moves?”

“I’m not an idiot, Clark,” she said, eliciting a laugh from Lana. “I can do this.”

To his utter shock, she could. She fell right in with the group, sliding and scooting and turning in time.

“You can really do this,” he said with a laugh.

“Last year I had a friend convince me it was a great way to meet guys.”

“Was it?” Jenny asked, craning her neck to hear Lois’ response over the music.

“Depends on how you define guys,” Lois replied skeptically, then turned her gaze on Clark and gave him a suggestive grin that clearly indicated he had no competition.

Clark threw back his head and laughed, eager for the next slow song so he could show her some moves of his own.

Chapter Text

Clark eased down the gravel driveway, his truck bumping along gently as they approached the white farmhouse. His hand rested on Lois’ leg, her hand covering his. She had been stroking his hand gently during the fifteen minute ride from his house to the farm, but she stilled when he pointed out their mailbox ahead, and she had barely moved since.

“Hey,” he said softly, and she turned to face him, her mouth set in a tight line. “What are you worried about? I told you, my mom loves you. Yesterday was great.”

She nodded and turned to look back out the window. It was so strange to see her nervous when she was usually so fearless. He stroked her leg gently with his thumb, slowing the truck to a stop beside his dad’s ancient red pickup.

He let the truck idle for a minute, not wanting to rush her, and she turned to look at him questioningly.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She nodded, looking more resolved. He flipped his hand over underneath hers, threading their fingers together and then lifting her hand to his mouth for a kiss.

“I’ve never brought anyone home to meet my parents,” she said softly. “I don’t mean just past boyfriends; I never brought any friends home either. My parents are…difficult. My mom was so unpredictable when she was drinking. And they’re both so critical. I could never trust them to be kind to anyone I brought home. I could never trust them not to embarrass me.”

He took a deep breath, understanding better her trepidation.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said softly, kissing her hand again. “I’m sorry that you don’t have the parents you deserve. And I’m sorry that was your experience.”

She shifted in her seat, turning to face him. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said. “Meet your parents. I want them to like me. I don’t know how to make people like me. I’ve spent my whole life trying not to care if people like me.”

He shifted toward her, reaching to stroke her cheek. “You don’t have to do anything other than just be yourself, I promise. They already like you. When my mom called today to tell me dinner was six, she was practically gushing about how great it was to meet you yesterday.”

He could feel her relaxing, and he leaned forward, kissing her gently.

“Lois, my parents love to host. Especially my mom. They always wanted a house full of kids. Pete and Lana practically grew up here. And they loved when I would bring other friends home,” he said, hesitating a moment before continuing. “But I’ve never brought anyone home to meet them like this, not someone so … special to me. They’ve been waiting a long time for this. They see how happy you make me. They see how much I care about you. They aren’t going to be looking for reasons not to like you. They’re nervous too, and want you to like them.”

She nodded, exhaling shakily. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Let’s go inside and say hi. Then I’ll show you around a little bit and we can have some time just for the two of us before dinner.”

She nodded eagerly, and he smiled at her.

He exited the driver’s side, and circled the car, holding her door for her as she slid out. He reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze.

They walked across the driveway, following the front walk to the porch. “This house has been in my family for three generations,” he said. “My dad grew up here, and his dad before him.”

She looked over at him, clearly surprised, and he went on as they climbed the steps onto the porch. “My grandfather almost lost it during the Great Depression. But it was all he had left of his parents, and he managed to hold onto it.”

“That’s incredible,” she said. “So much history in this house.”

Clark nodded as he opened the door and ushered her in. “Mom! Dad! We’re here!” he called, closing the door behind them.

Martha came flying into the living room, and hugged Lois immediately. “Oh, we’re so glad you’re here! I hope you’re hungry, because I’ve been cooking all day. Do you like wine? I just opened a bottle. It’s one that Clark brought back from one of his travels. I can’t remember where. Argentina, maybe?”

“Hi, Mom,” Clark said, faux petulant. “I like wine.”

Lois turned to him smiling, and he winked at her. Her smile spread, and he could see her relaxing.

“Oh, you hush,” his mother said. “I know what you like. And you can get your own wine.”

“I’d love a glass of wine, Mrs. Kent,” Lois said finally, and Martha turned her attention back to her, beaming.

“Martha, please,” she reminded her. “We’re not much for formalities in this house. Come in, come in. Let’s get you that wine.”

Martha led them through the living room toward the kitchen, stopping just briefly to yell upstairs. “Jonathan! Hurry up! The kids are here!”

In the kitchen, Martha had something on every burner and the oven on as well.

“Oh my goodness,” Lois said, surveying the kitchen.

Martha beamed again. “It’s nothing. I love to cook. It should all be ready soon. In the meantime…”

She turned to the counter and poured Lois a glass of red wine.

“I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble. This looks like so much. And it smells amazing in here.”

“Don’t discourage her,” Jonathan said, walking into the kitchen. “The only time I get a decent meal these days is when Clark comes to visit.”

“Oh, Jonathan,” Martha said, hitting him with a kitchen towel and smiling. “That’s not true and you know it.”

She turned to Lois and whispered conspiratorially. “It might be a little true.”

Lois laughed, and Clark reached for her automatically, resting his hand on her back. She turned her head and smiled at him, and Clark could see that she had settled in fully, her nerves evaporating in the warmth of his mother’s kitchen.

“How was the festival today?” Jonathan asked. “Anything exciting.”

“It was good,” Clark said. “We saw a bunch of friends. Did a little dancing.”

“We saw the Corn Princess competition,” Lois added, trying not to laugh.

Martha burst out laughing. “Oh, I already heard Sophie won. Ginny called me just as soon as she heard. She’s so proud she could burst. Talking about a family dynasty.”

“It was definitely a blast from the past,” Clark said.

“Did she do that ridiculous candy corn dance?” Martha asked, laughing when Clark nodded. “I remember Lana learning that dance. Do you remember, Clark? Tap dancing on my grandmother’s coffee table like it was her own personal stage.”

Clark had no memory of that day, but the scratches remained in the wood, and his mother had pointed them out enough over the years that he felt like he could close his eyes and see Lana dancing.

“Did Maggie win the cornbread bake-off?” Martha asked.

Clark nodded again, and Jonathan gave a huff of displeasure. “I still don’t see why you couldn’t enter this year,” he said.

“I told you,” Martha replied. “I was busy with my art.”

“You can’t eat art, Martha,” he grumbled, eyes twinkling.

“How long until dinner, Mom?” Clark asked. “Do we still have time for a little tour? I was just going to show Lois the yard and the barn.”

“Sure, sure,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “You’ve got at least a half hour. And I can keep it warm if it takes longer than that.

“Thanks,” he said, extending a hand to Lois. She set her half-full wine glass on the counter and took his hand, allowing him to pull her through the kitchen to the back door.

Outside, he gave her hand a little squeeze. “Feeling a little better?”

“Much,” she said immediately. “Your mom is wonderful.”

“Good,” he said, smiling. “Come look out here, and I’ll give you the lay of the land.”

They stood on the back deck, and he dropped her hand, stepping behind her, and wrapping his arms around her. In front of them lay the back yard, an acre or so surrounded by a fence, and then a large red barn.

“This yard is sort of my mom’s domain,” he said. “She designs those flower beds, and that vegetable garden over there is hers. I’m sure most of the vegetables we’ll eat tonight will be from her garden. Animals are strictly forbidden in my mother’s yard. Too many of Dad’s old hounds have dug up her garden over the years. Now they’re banished.”

Lois laughed, and he pointed at the barn.

“There’s the barn obviously. And beyond that is the pasture. If you look just past the barn, you can see the chicken coop. My mom tends the chickens. She convinced my dad to build that giant coop a few years ago, and then she did all the decorating and painting,” he said, pointing to the bright purple coop. “She has a dozen or so hens, but I think only half of them still lay. My dad grumbles about the freeloaders, but my mom says they deserve to live out their retirement years in peace.”

“Is all of this yours?” she asked, waving an arm in a wide arc.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Everything you see right now is ours. It’s 986 acres altogether.”

She turned, startled. “That’s huge.”

He chuckled. “It’s not. It’s about average.” He pointed out past the pasture. “That land isn’t farmable, so we just keep it mostly wild. There is a big stand of trees that Lana and I used to climb, and you can’t see it from here, but there’s the pond where my Dad taught me to fish. There’s a dirt road that leads back ther – that’s where I learned to drive. Then to either side of that, we have the crops. The north field is corn currently, and the south field is soybeans. Next spring we’ll reverse that. But first we’ll do winter wheat in both.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Where do Teddy and Susan live? Is that their house?”

“Yeah,” he said, when she pointed to a house in the distance, just past the north field. “Lana’s parents are just beyond them. You want to go see the barn?”

She nodded eagerly, and he released her and reached for her hand again. They strolled through the backyard, stopping to kneel down and pet a gray and white barn cat, who rolled over on her back for some love. Clark slid his glasses down surreptitiously and counted. Seven. He gave a little laugh.

“What” she asked.

Rather than answer, he took her hand and placed it on the cat’s belly. “You feel that?” he said, pressing on her fingers, palpating gently.

“Is that-?” she looked up, surprised.

He nodded. “I wonder if my dad knows. He pretends to be annoyed by the barn cats, and says he only keeps them around to keep the rodent population in check. but secretly he loves them. Especially kittens. He’s always sneaking out treats for them.”

Lois laughed and gave the cat one last scratch behind the ear before standing. She followed him into the barn, standing just inside the doorway and looking around.

The main level was filled with tractors and machinery in various states of repair. “These are my dad’s projects,” he said. “There’s always something under repair. He spends all his free time out here tinkering.”

She was looking around confused, and he paused, trying to figure out what she was thinking. “What?” he asked finally.

“Where are all the animals?”

“What animals?” he asked. “You saw the cat. The chickens are in their coop for the night. Dad usually has a dog, but Bear died a couple months ago and Dad hasn’t had the heart to replace him.”

“But…the farm animals?” she said. “Sheep? Horses? Cows? Goats?”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she said, laughing herself. “You said it was a farm, Clark. Where are the farm animals?”

He couldn’t stop the laughter. “Honey, it’s a crop farm. We grow corn and soybeans and wheat. We don’t have livestock.”

“So there are no animals?” she asked, and he could see her reevaluating every children’s picture book she had ever read.

“Not right now,” he said. “When I was a kid, we had a few goats for a while – my mom had this idea to make soaps and cheese from their milk. That was…short lived. And I raised something every year for 4H. A litter of piglets once. A goat. A sheep. Rabbits. But those were projects. Not part of the farm.”

“Huh,” she said, looking around.

“Are you disappointed?” he asked, trying hard not to laugh.

“No,” she said. “Just…surprised. Though I was sort of hoping for some cute lambs or something.”

“Lois, it’s not remotely lambing season, even if we did have livestock,” he said, losing his battle not to laugh.

She scowled at him, and he laughed harder, reaching for her. “We’ll come back in a couple months and you can cuddle the kittens.”

She slid her arms around his neck, and gave in, laughing with him. He dipped his head and kissed her, so unbearably happy.

“Promise?” she said.

“To let you pet the kittens?” he asked.

“That I can come back in a couple months,” she clarified softly.

His heart stopped for a second, and he took a steadying breath. “Yes,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I want you to come back so badly. As soon as you can. I’ll come to you for Fall Break next month, and then you’ll come here in November?”

She nodded solemnly, and he tightened his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and he stroked her hair.

This was his chance, he realized, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Lois, I just wanted to say…I’m so happy you came this weekend. I’ve had such an amazing time with you.”

“Me too,” she said, pulling back so she could look at him. “I’m so glad I came. I’m so glad we got to have this; to spend this time together."

He hesitated, the words bursting to come out, but not knowing if he should let them. “Look…I know you may not be there yet, and that’s ok, I don’t want to pressure you…but I’m not seeing anyone else, not dating anyone else. And I don’t intend to, not as long as you’re in my life. And I just wanted you to know that.”

Her smile lit up her face. “I’m not seeing anyone else either, Clark.”

His heart soared. “I know we still have things to work out. We still live a thousand miles apart, and we can’t see each other every day like I wish we could. But…do you think…if we’re both on the same page ….”

Lois’ eyes looked a little misty, even as she gave a little laugh. “Clark, are you asking me to go steady?”

He chuckled. “I guess I am. If you’re willing.”

She grinned and stroked the back of his neck. “Well, everyone in Smallville has been calling me your girl…so we might as well make it official.”

Clark grinned with her, hugging her tightly even as he double checked to make sure his feet were still firmly on the ground. “I have my class ring back at the house if you really want to make it official,” he teased. “You can wear it on a chain around your neck.”

She was still laughing as their lips met in a sweet kiss. “I can see it now, I’ll walk into the newsroom wearing your varsity jacket. Everyone will be so jealous.”

“As they should be! The Smallville Tigers have gone to State two out of the last three years, after all.”

“And my boyfriend is the coach! He’s practically famous.”

Clark felt like his heart would explode with joy. “Oh, I like hearing that. I like being your boyfriend.” He lifted a hand to gently cup her cheek. “Lois, I am over the moon for you. I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone."

She turned her head to press a gentle kiss into his palm. “I feel the same. I don’t know how it happened. Five months ago, I would have said this was the last thing I had time for. But I’ve definitely fallen for you, farm boy.”

He kissed her again, happier than he could ever remember being in his life. He stroked her cheek, and then her arm, wishing he could kiss her all night without stopping.

He pulled away finally, gazing at her. She was looking up at him with such tenderness that he couldn’t resist a final, gentle kiss.

He wanted to tell her how happy she made him, how completely overwhelmed he was by her. But he couldn’t find the words.

She smiled and nodded, and he knew she was thinking her own variation of that theme.

“We should get back inside,” she said finally. “Dinner is probably ready.”

“Dinner can wait,” he teased, lowering his lips to hers.

She kissed him quickly, then pulled away laughing and shaking her head. “No way. My first official act as your girlfriend is not going to be making us late to dinner with your parents because we were making out in the barn.”

He laughed, delighted to hear her refer to herself as his girlfriend.

“Fair enough. Will you make out with me when we get back to my house?” he asked, still laughing.

“Play your cards right, and that’s a distinct possibility,” she said, slipping her hand into his and tugging him toward the barn door.

****

Back in the kitchen, Martha was pulling a pie from the oven and placing it on a cooling rack while Jonathan set the table.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Lois asked, looking a bit overwhelmed as Martha began transferring food into serving dishes.

“Don’t you dare,” his mother said, shooing them toward the table. “You’re our guest. Go sit. Food will be on the table in just a minute.

Clark retrieved their wine glasses from the counter and handed Lois hers, then tilted his head toward the table. “She’s not kidding,” he said. “The most helpful thing we can do at this point is stay out of her way.”

Lois laughed, but followed him to the small kitchen table, where he pulled out her chair for her and then sat beside her. Jonathan helped Martha ferry the bowls and platters to the table, and in no time, they were all seated admiring the feast.

Clark smiled at the spread, seeing it for what it was – his mother’s way of dealing with her own nerves as she prepared to host Lois for the first time.

They praised each of the dishes as they passed them around, heaping their plates with roasted chicken, fluffy homemade rolls, creamy mashed potatoes with gravy, a corn casserole, and sauteed green beans. Jonathan lifted the lid from the last serving dish and hesitated, his brow furrowed.

“Martha?” he said slowly. “What in the world did you do to these carrots?”

“It’s roasted carrots and beets in a honey balsamic glaze,” she said primly. There was a marked silence for a moment as Jonathan and Clark exchanged a look.

“A what?” Jonathan said, clearly baffled, as he scooped a tiny helping onto his plate. “You put honey on the carrots?”

“I got the recipe from a magazine. Apparently balsamic glazes are very popular in fine dining right now. I bet they’re everywhere in Metropolis.”

All eyes were on Lois as Jonathan passed her the dish.

“Oh, uh, I really wouldn’t know,” Lois said, flustered. “I mainly survive on frozen dinners and Chinese take out. But these look amazing!”

She scooped a heaping spoonful onto her plate and passed the dish to Clark, who was avoiding eye contact with his mother and trying not to burst out laughing.

“So,” Martha said, when they had finished serving themselves. “You don’t do much cooking, Lois?”

“No,” she said hesitantly, shooting him a look that said she hoped this wasn’t going to be the first strike against her. “I work a lot and live alone, so…. Honestly, I eat most of my meals at work. Whatever I can get delivered or scrounge out of the vending machines. When I am home, it doesn’t seem worth the effort to cook for myself.”

“Well, that certainly makes sense,” Martha said amicably, and Lois visibly relaxed. “Honestly even just cooking for two can seem like more trouble than it’s worth sometimes. As Jonathan so kindly pointed out earlier, I tend to save most of my more labor intensive meals for nights when Clark will be here or when we have guests. When it’s just us, we eat a lot of leftovers and quick meals.”

Lois smiled, and Clark grinned at her, hoping she was starting to believe him that his parents were not looking for reasons to dislike her.

“What about when you do have free time?” Martha asked. “What do you do then?”

“For meals?” Lois asked, obviously confused.

“No,” Matha said with a warm laugh. “For fun. Surely you don’t work all the time. I don’t imagine you spend what little free time you have cooking. How do you spend it?”

“Oh! I…I read a lot. And I spend a lot of time at the gym and my dojo. I study taekwondo, and I like to run.”

Clark smirked, and she glared at him. The glare pushed him over the edge, and he started laughing.

Martha and Jonathan exchanged a confused look.

“She beat me in the 5K this morning,” Clark told them.

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t count if you catch me and then step back and let me cross the finish line first. Next time, I’m going to beat you fair and square.”

“Bring it,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

“You ran with the team?” Martha said, a note of surprise edging into her voice.

Clark chuckled again. “She smoked them. And now I think half of them are in love with her. So that should keep things interesting.”

Lois laughed and shook her head. “He’s exaggerating on both fronts.”

“Travis Culpepper outright said he was in love with her,” he countered.

“Travis was just stunned to meet a girl who knows what a passing route is,” she said skeptically.

Clark shrugged, conceding the truth in that statement.

“Are you a fan of football?” Jonathan asked, wading into the conversation finally.

Lois nodded enthusiastically. “I love football,” she said. “I love most sports. But I’ve always been partial to football.”

“She thinks she could do a better job coaching than me. She doesn’t think my play calls are aggressive enough,” he said, baiting her.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it!” she retorted, laughing. She gave up on trying to convince him and turned to his father. “I said one time that he relies too heavily on flat routes-”

“Which are a safe bet, but aren’t going to get us to State,” Clark mimicked, barely holding in his laughter at her faux outraged reaction.

“You asked me for my opinion,” she said. “If you are going to ask for feedback, you need to be receptive to constructive criticism.”

His mouth dropped open. “I need to be open to constructive criticism? I’ll remember that next time I offer you advice on how to fix a paragraph in your article and you throw a pencil at me!”

“I didn’t ask for your advice, thank you very much,” she responded immediately. Then she shrugged and grinned at him. “And I made the change.”

Her grin morphed into a sweet smile, and he wanted so badly to kiss her. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, and he knew she could read that desire in his eyes. She tore her gaze from his reluctantly and turned back to Jonathan.

“Did you play football?” she asked his father, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a smile when he reached out and stroked her arm. “Is that how Clark wound up playing?”

Jonathan nodded. “I did my time in a Tigers uniform,” he confirmed.

“Oh, he was just so handsome in his jersey,” Martha said.

Jonathan rolled his eyes affectionately. “I was never a quarterback though. I was a tight end.”

“Yes, he was,” Martha said suggestively.

Clark immediately shot her a horrified look and exclaimed, “Mom!” at the same time Jonathan muttered an exasperated, “Martha.”

Lois dissolved into giggles, and he turned to face her and was immediately smitten with her all over again.

“Well, he was,” Martha muttered under her breath, and Lois laughed even harder.

Clark shook his head at Lois, and she reeled in her laughter just long enough to reach out and stroke his cheek and say, “You should have seen your face!” And then she burst out laughing again.

He laughed in spite of himself and turned to face his mother expecting her to be smirking, and found her instead looking at Lois with a tenderness that surprised him.

When their laughter died down, Lois tried again to engage his father in discussing his own years on the gridiron, and he was only too happy to oblige.

“We never went to State when I played,” he said, still regretful after all these years. “But we did beat Springfield three years in a row. First and only time that has happened.”

“Springfield was Smallville’s rival back then too?” Lois asked, and Clark saw his dad’s eyebrow quirk in appreciation of the fact that she knew about the rivalry.

“We’ve been rivals since the two schools were founded. It’s one of the oldest high school rivalries in Kansas,” Jonathan replied.

“And Smallville has never beat them three years in a row since you were in high school?” Lois asked speculatively. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she turned to address him.

She didn’t say a word, just raised her eyebrows and waited.

He laughed in concession. “We’ve won the last two years. So the pressure is on; we win this year and we tie the record.”

“When is it?” she asked.

“It’s always the last regular game of the season. The week before Thanksgiving.”

“The Springfield game puts the Corn Festival to shame,” Martha said. “The whole town turns up to cheer them on. The stands are full of former players in their jerseys.”

“It sounds like a great way to end the season,” Lois said.

“And an even better way to kick off the postseason,” Clark said, winking at her.

“Don’t get cocky, farm boy,” she said with a grin, and Clark heard his mother laugh.

He reached out and covered her hand with his, squeezing gently, so unbearably happy to have her here at his parents’ kitchen table. She had settled in so thoroughly that it was hard to believe this was really the first time they had all been here like this.

She curled her fingers around his and squeezed back, then slid her hand out from under his, and picked up her fork, spearing another carrot.

Jonathan cleared his throat and Clark tensed, waiting to see what he would say next.

“So, Lois, Clark tells us you are a reporter. You met at that conference he took the kids to last spring?”

“That’s right,” Lois said. “I taught a class for the students on the first day. It was a small class with a rigorous application process. The best of the best. During the discussion portion, every other sentence was, ‘My teacher Mr. Kent says…’. Turned out, four of my forty students were from his group. I was shocked and seriously intrigued about this Mr. Kent character they seemed so fond of.”

His parents chuckled, and he smiled at her, remembering that day.

“Anyway, after class he came to pick them up, and we started talking….”

“....and never stopped.” Clark finished for her.

She smiled at him and then cocked her head to the side as if remembering something. “Did I ever tell you I checked later to see if any other schools had multiple students accepted into the Master Class?”

He shook his head, surprised for a moment that she would think to look that up, and then realizing with amusement that of course that sort of little detail would intrigue her.

“Two other schools had two students each. The rest of the kids were the only ones from their schools who made the cut.” She looked at him pointedly, but didn’t say anything else.

He nodded slowly, taking that in — both the information, and her implied praise. He so often felt inferior to her professionally. Not because of anything she said or insinuated, but just because of his own insecurity around the unexpected trajectory of his career. He saw in her career what he might have had, or be working toward, if he had stayed on the path he had set for himself. So seeing the admiration in her eyes was thrilling on multiple levels for him.

“That’s…interesting,” he said finally.

“It’s a lot more than interesting, Clark,” she said softly. She turned her attention back to his parents. “It was a big deal. For four of his students to be in my class. And it was a big deal that they won the Pacemaker.”

“You spoke at the Pacemaker award ceremony, didn’t you?” Martha asked, and Lois nodded. “Was there a reason you spoke at that instead of during one of the daytime slots?”

Lois nodded. “It’s tradition for the speaker at the award ceremony to be a recent Pulitzer winner. I assume they asked a few of us. I don’t normally attend or speak at conferences, but I attended this conference all four years in high school, so it was sentimental for me, and I agreed.”

“Clark said you won a Pulitzer for your coverage of that whole Lex Luthor thing,” Jonathan said, not quite a question.

“That must have been so exciting,” Martha added quickly. “Not just the award, but the investigation. You didn’t just write about it. You were the one who put together all the evidence.”

Lois smiled and nodded. “I was obsessed with Luthor for almost a full year. He was so slippery. Every time I thought I had him, someone else would take the fall. I had every source who had ever owed me a favor working overtime. I was running my research assistant ragged. I went undercover at least a half dozen times. Even my editor was starting to think I had lost it.”

“You went undercover?” Martha asked eagerly.

Lois nodded. “All short term on this project though. Just a couple days here or there trying to get information. I couldn’t do anything deep undercover in his organization, because Luthor knew who I was.”

“But you’ve done that in the past?” Jonathan asked. “Gone deep undercover?”

“Sure, I’ve done a few long-term undercover assignments in the past. Once I spent months undercover infiltrating a car theft ring. My research assistant taught me how to boost cars.”

“You what?” Clark said, never having heard this story before. “And how did Jimmy know how to boost cars?”

“Jimmy knows more than you would suspect about a lot of things. He’s…very helpful.”

“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that,” he said with a chuckle. “Seriously though? You stole cars?”

“Well…I kept track of everything that was stolen and turned over all the evidence to the police once I had it. It was all above board. Or…mostly above board. But yeah, sometimes to get that information you need to take down a big fish, you have to be willing to bend the law.”

“Have you done other long-term undercover investigations like that?” Martha asked.

“A few,” Lois responded. “Early in my career, I spent six months working part-time at a nursing home – evenings and weekends. I had heard rumors that the director was using it as a front to sell drugs and prescriptions. So I got a job there as a nursing assistant and spent months getting them to trust me before I was able to uncover the whole ring. It wasn’t the director after all. She was totally clueless – incompetent but not corrupt. It was a whole ring of nurses and one of the doctors.”

“You spent months working a part-time job in addition to your full-time job as part of an investigation?” Clark asked. It was no wonder she had no time for a social life and had been so insistent that she didn’t have time for a long-distance relationship.

“How did you know what you were doing?” Jonathan asked. “Did you take a class?”

“The nursing home offered on the job training,” Lois replied. “But honestly it was super entry level and easy work. And I have a pretty good grasp of basic medical terminology and patient care. My dad is a doctor and my mom was a nurse until I was born. So I grew up hearing a lot of medical discussions.”

“Is that how they met?” Martha asked.

He saw Lois pause, chewing slowly, and knew she was censoring herself for his parents’ benefit.

“Yes,” she said finally. “She was his nurse.”

The first in a long string of his nurses who her father had bedded, if not wedded, Lois had once told him in a rare moment of reflection on her childhood. Her father’s long string of infidelities, he knew, had contributed heavily to her mother’s drinking and eventually the end of their marriage.

“What happened when you finally managed to gain their trust?” he asked, steering the conversation back to the investigation, and earning himself a grateful smile.

“I recorded a bunch of conversations and took photos of the secret records they kept locked away in the nursing director’s office. Once I had the evidence, I went straight to the police. And I got the exclusive when they raided the place. Everyone involved lost their license and the lower level nurses turned state’s evidence against the leaders, so they got plea deals and the nursing director and doctor are still in prison. The judge really threw the book at them because not only were they selling drugs, but they were pilfering meds from the residents to sell, so they weren’t receiving the meds they needed.”

“That’s awful,” Martha said immediately, horrified by this revelation.

“They were really lucky that no one died because of their negligence,” Lois said, nodding her agreement.

“That must have been a really big story,” Jonathan said. “It must have gotten a lot of attention.”

“That was my first Kerth,” Lois said. “That’s an award for investigative journalism.”

“Your first?” Martha asked pointedly.

“She has four. Plus the Pulitzer,” Clark said with a grin, and he saw his dad raise his eyebrows in appreciation.

Lois set her fork down, and sat back in her chair, resting her hands in her lap. Jonathan helped himself to more potatoes and then passed the bowl to Clark.

Martha gestured to the table still laden with food. “Help yourself to more of anything,” she said.

“Oh, thank you, but I better not,” Lois said. “I saw that pie on the counter, and I heard a rumor that your pie is better than Maisie’s. I better save room if I want to find out for myself.”

Martha laughed and smiled at Clark, and he knew she was thinking of all the pie he had skipped over the last few months.

“Well,” she said, turning back to Lois. “It certainly sounds like you get a lot of excitement in Metropolis.”

Lois considered. “It’s more like moments of excitement mixed with months of drudgery and background investigations. I mean, this investigation that Clark has been helping me on…I’ve been working on it for months. We had one exciting night of going undercover at the club, but otherwise it’s been all analyzing financial documents and pointless stakeouts.”

Both his parents’ heads swiveled to face him immediately, and he fumbled to explain. “It wasn’t really…. It was nothing. Lois just wanted to go to this little club and see what was going on. We weren’t really undercover.”

Lois narrowed her eyes at him, assessing his response.

“Clark didn’t mention it to you?” she asked, turning back to his parents. “There’s been a series of arsons over the course of the last six months. Mostly warehouses, but a couple corporate headquarters too. The arsonist has a super specific MO – they’re using this torch weapon that I’ve seen before. It was used in a series of arsons two years ago, and back then, I traced the arsons to the head of the Metro Gang, who was operating out of the Metro Club. She’s in prison now, but I’m sure the weapon is the same, so I’ve been trying to locate the weapons to see if that leads to the new arsonists. And Clark has been really helpful on this investigation. Besides just letting me talk about it incessantly and never complaining, he also helped me go undercover at the club so I could figure out who’s in charge now. And it was his suggestion that I contact the original arsonists in prison and see if I could get information out of them that I couldn’t two years ago. Which was brilliant, because I totally got a new lead.”

Clark tried not to squirm in his seat, both uncomfortable with her praise and concerned about his parents’ reaction to him going undercover and helping on investigations. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but he knew they would suspect immediately that he could use his powers to assist in the investigation and would worry that could put him at risk of revealing his secret to Lois.

“I still want to hear about the chicken costume,” Clark said casually, taking another bite of potatoes.

Lois turned to him slowly, shaking her head. “I knew I never should have mentioned that.”

“You went undercover as a chicken?” Jonathan said skeptically.

“No,” Lois said, laughing. “When I was working this investigation the first time – two years ago – I went undercover in the club as a lounge singer. Part of the job requirement…was performing in group acts, including one which required a chicken costume. A…Vegas showgirl style chicken costume,” she admitted with a roll of her eyes.

He smirked, imagining her in the skimpy costume, all legs and feathers. She narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. “Do not say a single word.”

He raised his hands in the air, as if to declare his innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it,” she said, and he laughed, not bothering to deny it. “That whole investigation was wild. My cover almost got blown while I was singing – thankfully not in the chicken costume. Luthor was in the audience, right down front – and this was before I was investigating him, but he definitely knew who I was. We’d had a few…interactions already by that point. I kept trying to get a one on one interview, and he was toying with me. When he saw me on stage, I’m sure he knew immediately I was undercover, and-”

Lois stopped abruptly, and Clark looked at her quizzically.

“Oh my god,” she said softly. “Oh my god!”

“What?” he asked, concerned. And then her face broke out in a brilliant smile.

“Clark! The Boss! It’s Luthor!”

He hesitated, trying to follow her logic.

“Why else would he have been there that night?” she asked, starting to warm up to the topic. “At the time, I just thought he was there because he was rich and famous and that was the Metro Club clientele. But he was definitely meeting with Toni. I remember, because when I saw them whispering, I was sure he was exposing me. I was getting ready to high tail it out of there.

“And then…nothing happened,” she said, raising her palms skyward. “He didn’t say anything. I thought…I don't know what I thought. I guess that I got lucky? That he decided it wasn’t his problem if I was investigating her? But that wasn’t it at all! Toni wasn’t the mastermind behind the Toasters. She was just another lackey taking the fall for him. This was before I started my serious investigation into him – before the heatwave – so I didn’t know to look for the pattern. But this is exactly what he does. He’s playing chess in the background, and he lets someone else take the fall. When the Toasters outlived their usefulness to him, they went to prison, and Toni went with them. And “The Boss” walked away free and clear with the weapons.”

She was on a roll now, completely oblivious to everyone and everything around her. She was on fire with this new realization, and her eyes flashed with victory while her voice was shot through with frustration that it had eluded her for so long. She looked fierce and wild and unbelievably beautiful.

“I don’t know who he’s got on the outside still doing his bidding, but I would bet my life this is Luthor. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. Of course he isn’t just sitting in prison doing his time. Luthor would never stand for that. He’s still pulling the strings. All these companies being burned now…I bet you Luthor is the common denominator. I’m looking in all the wrong places. I’m trying to link them to Intergang, but it’s LexCorp I need to be looking for.”

She stopped and looked around the table suddenly, as if just realizing where she was. “Sorry,” she said softly. “That was…a lot of information.”

“You are incredible,” he said softly. “I can’t believe you just put that all together.”

“I couldn't have done it without you,” she said, smiling at him tenderly. “You asked all the right questions. I wasn’t thinking about Luthor at all. If you hadn’t told me to go back to the Toasters… If you hadn’t asked about that stupid chicken costume….”

He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt to stay in his seat. “Do you need to…go? Make a phone call or something?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any proof. I can’t do anything right now. I’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll go straight to the newsroom and pull all my files and start over. There’s got to be a link now that I know what I’m looking for.”

He reached out and took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and she smiled at him again. He would move heaven and earth to keep her smiling at him like that.

His father cleared his throat, and Clark turned his gaze from her to his parents, who were looking a little shell-shocked.

Lois followed his gaze, and then blushed. “Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to….”

“Don’t you go apologizing,” Martha said, eyes sparkling. “That was delightful.”

Lois laughed, and Clark squeezed her hand.

“When you win your next Pulitzer, we’ll be able to tell everyone we were there when you put it all together,” Jonathan said, clearly under her spell now. Clark looked at him with raised eyebrows, and his father gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and Clark knew he was at least self-aware enough to realize he had been charmed by this woman he had been so wary of in the beginning.

“How about that pie?” Martha said, scooting her chair back and standing. Jonathan stood immediately, waving off additional offers of help and gathering their plates to take into the kitchen.

When they were gone, he turned in his chair, untangling his hand from hers and cupping her cheek.

“Are you sure you don’t need to make a phone call or something? It’s okay. I understand.”

“I know you do,” she said softly, and he could see her gratitude on her face. He wondered how many other men had been intimidated by her; had expected her to put her career second to them and showed their displeasure when she wouldn't. Their loss, he thought.

In the kitchen, he could hear his parents whispering. He tried to tune them out and focus on her, but snatches of dialogue still came through. “Isn’t she something?” and “Did you see the way she looks at him?” and “I’ve never seen him like this,” and “This is it, isn’t it?”

She was still looking at him the same way, and his heart couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered his lips to hers, his thumb stroking her cheek gently as his lips moved gently but surely over hers. She leaned in toward him, resting one hand on his knee, and his heart stuttered with joy and longing. He was so head over heels for this woman, and he just could not believe she felt the same way. He lost himself in her, savoring their kiss after waiting so impatiently though dinner for this moment. Her hand came up to his cheek, fingers fluttering gently against his sensitive skin and he wished desperately that they were truly alone so he could deepen the kiss.

Somewhere in the depths of his brain, he heard footsteps approaching and realized what he needed to do. Gently, he eased away, stroking her cheek one last time before sitting back upright in his seat, just in time for his parents to return. Martha carried a pie in a heavy porcelain pie dish she used only for good company, and Jonathan was at her side with a stack of dessert plates and forks.

Lois exclaimed over the cluster of strawberry-shaped crust cutouts decorating the pie, and Clark looked up expectantly at his mother.

“Is that-”

She was nodding before he could get the question out.

“What?” Lois asked, looking at him to finish his question.

“Strawberry rhubarb,” he said. “It’s my favorite. Just… Just wait and see.”

She grinned at him, and then accepted a plate with a generous slice of pie from Jonathan, who continued passing them out around the table. When everyone was served, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Lois took her first bite and then froze, closing her eyes as she swallowed.

He watched with a smile as she looked from him to his mother, her fork still hovering over her plate. “This is…. How did you…? This pie is….”

“I think she’s at a loss for words, Mom. That might be the best compliment you’ve ever received,” he teased.

Lois pointed her fork at him. “You hush,” she said. Then she turned back to his mother. “This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”

“Thank you,” Martha said, and Clark could see a hint of embarrassment under the pride, though this pie was famous throughout Smallville.

“The strawberries and rhubarb both come from Mom’s garden,” he told Lois, and she looked to Martha, as if for confirmation.

Martha smiled and nodded. “I usually make it in early summer when both are in season. But I always put up a few jars of filling to use throughout the year.”

“It’s a hot commodity,” Clark added. “She only cans a half dozen or so jars, so once it’s gone…it’s gone until next June.”

“You should see people fight over it at Thanksgiving,” Jonathan added. “I swear one year there was nearly a fistfight over the last piece.”

“Thanksgiving!” Martha exclaimed. “Oh, you should come for Thanksgiving. Clark, tell her. She should come for Thanksgiving!”

“Mom,” he said, surprised by her impulsivity. It was unlike her to put someone on the spot with an invitation.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, laughing at herself. “I just got excited. Have you not talked about another visit?”

He opened a hand and made an incoherent noise in response, not sure how he had so completely lost control of this conversation.

Lois put a hand on his arm to relax him and responded for him. “We have,” she said. “I can’t wait to come back – probably in November. But I couldn’t crash your family Thanksgiving. I’ll come earlier in the month.”

Jonathan snorted, and Martha laughed. “Oh, honey. Half of Smallville will turn up here for Thanksgiving. We haven’t done a small family holiday since…well, ever? We used to go to my parents for Thanksgiving back when we were first married. But after the babies were born, we started hosting here. Ginny and I coordinate everything together. It used to just be the two families, but now that the kids are all grown, it’s turned into more of an all-day open house than a traditional family meal. All the kids make an appearance with their families and lots of friends and extended family drop by. The more the merrier.”

Clark could see Lois’ brain working, and knew she was still stuck on “the babies” – wondering if there was some heretofore unmentioned sibling that she should know about.

Clark sighed heavily. “It’s what they call Lana and me,” he said.

She looked at him, confused. “Lana’s older brothers are ‘the boys’ and Lana and I are ‘the babies’,” he said, setting off the words with air quotes. “We’ve been asking them to stop calling us ‘the babies’ for more than two decades, but you can see how effective that has been.”

“Sorry,” Martha said, not sounding one bit sorry at all. “But you’ll always be our babies.”

Clark rolled his eyes, but smiled at Lois’ giggle.

“We sure would love to have you,” Martha went on. “But you probably have your own family traditions.”

He saw Lois hesitate, and realized she probably had no Thanksgiving plans. He hadn’t even thought that far ahead, but he knew she hadn’t seen most of her immediate family in years, and that included holidays. And he suspected that in the past, she had volunteered to work most holidays, covering for coworkers with young children or out of town family.

“We’ll talk about it, Mom,” he said, taking the pressure off her to answer. “I’ll let you know when she’s coming back next.”

Martha nodded, satisfied, and he took another bite of his favorite pie.

“You know…” Lois began slowly. “This whole ‘babies’ thing made me realize something. Part of what I was really looking forward to about this dinner was hearing all sorts of stories about when Clark was little. And we’ve been so busy talking about me, that I haven’t heard a single, juicy story. So, I’m dying to know…was he always this perfect, or was he a little terror?”

His mother laughed, always ready to discuss her favorite topic. “Oh, he was always a sweet boy, but he and Lana…. They could get into some serious trouble. One time they’d both been sent to bed early for snitching cookies we were making for the school bake sale. And rather than just taking their punishments and moving on, they decided to run away….”

Martha launched into one of her favorite stories, and Clark finished his pie and sat back, watching Lois listen for the first time as Martha described their terror upon finding his empty bed, their fury upon learning that Lana was missing as well, their gratitude when all of Smallville’s volunteer fire department showed up to help search the fields and forests, and their relief upon finding both children curled up together fast asleep in his treehouse, oblivious to all the trouble they had caused.

“Your poor parents,” Lois chided him when the story was over.

He shrugged and gave her an impish grin. “Hey, we just wanted some cookies. They didn’t have to banish us to our rooms.”

“Banish!” Martha scoffed, and Lois laughed again.

“Is it still out there? The treehouse?”

He nodded. “I’ll take you out to see it next time.”

Her smile widened, and he knew she liked thinking about “next time” as much as he did.

Matha looked out the back window and seemed surprised at how dark it was getting.

“What time is it?” she asked. “Are you going back to the festival for the fireworks? You probably need to get a move on if you are going to make it in time.”

Clark hesitated. That had been the plan originally – a quick dinner with his parents, and then back to the square to listen to the bands and watch the fireworks. But now that they were here and having so much fun, he didn’t want to leave. And he didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening surrounded by half the town. He was dying for some time alone with her.

He looked over at Lois, and saw his own ambivalence written all over her face. He glanced out the window at the darkening sky and suddenly had a much better idea.

“You want to skip it?” he said. “I have a better idea.”

She raised her eyebrows, intrigued.

“Trust me?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said softly.

He smiled at her and turned back to his parents. “It’s fine. We have plenty of time.”

“In that case,” Lois chimed in. “I want at least one more embarrassing childhood story.”

He laughed and scooted his chair closer to hers, reaching over to take her hand. He laced his fingers through hers, and pulled it into his lap, stroking the back of her hand with his other hand. She looked sideways at him just long enough for him to be doubly sure he had made the right call by skipping the fireworks, and then turned her attention back to his mother.

“Well,” Martha said. “If you want embarrassing, then you have to let me tell you about his first grade Christmas concert. Now, Clark has many talents, but singing has never been one of them….”

Chapter Text

Another hour of conversation flew by, filled with stories from Clark’s childhood, Smallville gossip, family history on the farm, and eventually stories from Martha and Jonathan’s days as Freedom Riders.

After it was clear that “one more” childhood story was going to lead to more, the foursome had moved from the kitchen table to the living room, where Lois settled comfortably against Clark’s side on the loveseat, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Now things were winding down, and she knew they would be leaving soon, and she was both eager to be alone with him and loath to leave this spot.

They stood slowly, thanking Martha again for dinner and complimenting the pie one last time before saying their goodbyes. Clark went upstairs with his father briefly to grab something they would need for his surprise, leaving her in the living room alone with his mother.

Martha pulled her into a tight hug, and Lois hugged her back, thinking it was no wonder Clark had turned out to be such a warm, sweet man, raised in this home by this family.

“Thank you,” Lois said again, softly this time as they pulled apart. “This was so nice. I had such a wonderful time tonight.”

“We’re so glad you came,” Martha said, squeezing her arm. “You come back anytime. You’re always welcome here.”

Lois swallowed the lump in her throat, as a montage of images of her here in this home with Clark and his parents for family dinners and holidays flooded her mind.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, and turned automatically, already smiling. He smiled back at her, and her heart fluttered the way it always did when he trained that smile on her.

His arms were laden with blankets and pillows, and she raised her eyebrows questioningly. He laughed and winked at her. “Give me just a minute, and you’ll see,” he told her.

He said a final goodbye to his father, who had followed him down the stairs and kissed his mother on the cheek. Lois said goodbye to Jonathan, and was surprised and delighted when he pulled her into a warm hug.

Then she followed Clark out the front door and down the walkway to his truck, where he tossed the blankets and pillows into the bed and then opened her door for her. She leaned against the truck before climbing in, gazing up at him, and he bent his head and kissed her gently.

“I told you they would love you,” he said softly.

“They’re wonderful,” she said. “I loved them. Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, amused.

She took a deep breath and waved a hand vaguely. “For bringing me here. For introducing me to them. For…this whole weekend. For being you.”

He kissed her again, swiftly and surely. His hand went to her cheek, holding her gently as he worked his magic, making her forget entirely that they were still in the driveway of his parents’ home.

When he pulled away, she was breathless and boneless, limp against the cool metal of the truck. She took a ragged breath and let her head fall back, her gaze going to the sky above them where millions of stars twinkled.

“Wow,” she said softly. “Look at all the stars.”

“You don’t see stars like this in Metropolis,” he said knowingly, and she nodded in agreement.

“No, the only stars you ever see in Metropolis are the ones getting out of limos,” she joked. She paused for a minute, taking in the view. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s what I wanted to show you,” he said, tilting his head toward the bed of his truck where the blankets and pillows waited. “I thought we could go out by the pond. It’s even darker back there.”

He looked at her, waiting for her approval, and she nodded eagerly. “That sounds wonderful,” she said.

He kissed her again quickly, then stepped back, still holding her door, and she climbed in her seat. He came around to the side and climbed in, reaching immediately for her hand. He backed halfway down the driveway, then put the truck back in drive and turned off onto a dirt road that wound past the far side of the barn. They bumped gently along in silence, rows of corn on their right, open pasture fields to the left. In the rearview, the house grew smaller and smaller, until finally Clark pulled off the road and parked, the silence echoing in her ears as he cut the engine. He clicked off the headlights, and Lois blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He reached across her lap, popping open the glovebox and pulling out a flashlight. “Wait for me,” he said. “It’s dark out there.”

She nodded, and he climbed out his door and flicked on the light, coming around the truck to meet her. He opened her door, and she slid out beside him.

He handed her the flashlight, then took a few steps and reached into the bed, retrieving the blankets and pillows. They walked a few yards away, and she trained the light on the ground while he laid out the blankets and pillows, making a welcoming little nest for them in the soft prairie grass.

He sat and held out a hand to her, and she came to join him on the blanket. He took the flashlight, and clicked it off, then reclined against the pillows, and she laid down next to him, her heart racing at his nearness, at the intimacy of lying beside him like this under stars.

His hand found hers, lacing them together, and she felt as if her heart would explode out of her chest. She took a couple slow breaths, trying to calm her heart, and focused her gaze on the stars. They seemed so endless in the dark night sky.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

“There’s Cassiopeia and Andromeda,” he said, pointing to the northeast.

“Where?” she said, shaking her head. “What am I looking for?”

“Cassiopeia stretches out across the sky. Five bright stars in a zigzag. Almost like a stretched out W.”

He traced the pattern with his finger, and she followed the movement, seeing it come together. She smiled. “I see it!”

He chuckled happily. “Ok, look at the second star in Cassiopeia, then move right. See that star? That’s Andromeda’s foot. There are three pairs of stars running parallel and then one at the top connecting the two lines.”

She smiled as it came into view. “I see it,” she said again.

“Do you know the story of Cassiopeia and Andromeda?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Cassiopeia was queen of Ethiopia and Andromeda's mother. When she boasted that Andromeda was more beautiful than the Nereids – the sea nymphs – Poseidon punished her by flooding the coast and sending a sea monster to ravage their kingdom. Poseidon promised to continue this punishment until Andromeda was sacrificed to him, so her father, King Cepheus, ordered her chained to a cliff as a sacrifice.”

“Wow, and I thought my dad was a jerk,” she said lightly.

Clark laughed. “It gets better. Perseus just happened to be flying by on his winged sandals, carrying the head of Medusa, whom he had just slain. He saw Andromeda chained to the rocks and fell madly in love. He killed the sea monster, convinced her father to let him marry her, and they lived happily ever after. Well, as happily as any Greek heroes can live. First he had to use Medusa’s head to kill the rival who had previously been promised her hand in marriage and a slew of his supporters.”

“Naturally,” she said.

“They went on to have seven sons and two daughters, and their descendents ruled all over the region. After their death, Athena placed them both in the stars along with her parents, where they could spend eternity together. The Perseus and Cepheus constellations are up there with them too, but I can’t pick them out.”

“Well, that’s a much happier story than many of the Greek myths,” she said.

He hummed in agreement and then pointed again. “See that blurry star in the middle of Andromeda? It looks bigger and fuzzy?”

“Mmhmm,” she said, finding it as he described.

“That’s the Andromeda galaxy. That’s the closest spiral galaxy like ours. It looks like a single star to the naked eye, but it’s a whole galaxy. There are a trillion stars in that galaxy.”

“A trillion?” she asked, stressing the beginning of the word.

“Yeah,” he said. “And that’s just one galaxy. There are a hundred billion galaxies out there. That we know of.”

“How do you know all this?” she asked softly.

He was quiet for a minute. “I spent a lot of time out here when I was younger. Studying the stars.”

“It makes our world feel so small,” she said. “The vastness of the universe. It’s easy to forget and believe we’re all there is. That the world revolves around us. But there’s so much out there that we don’t even know about.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “We can’t even begin to imagine everything that could be out there.”

“Do you think…” she trailed off, unsure if she wanted to finish that question. He turned his head to look at her, waiting. “Do you think there’s life out there? It’s just…the universe is so big. It feels so conceited to believe that in all those galaxies, on all those planets around all those stars…there wasn’t any other planet that sustained life.”

He was quiet for a minute, and she wondered if he thought she was crazy. If he would think it was a stupid thing to say.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said softly, and she could feel his hesitation, as if there was more he wanted to say.

She rolled toward him, and reached up to stroke his cheek. He smiled at her, and she tugged gently on his neck, pulling him closer. His lips brushed hers, and her heart leapt.

He pulled back and propped himself up on his elbow, studying her. “What do you think they’re like?” he asked. “If there is life out there. Intelligent life. What…do you think they’re like?”

His face was so serious, almost worried, and she ached for him, though she wasn’t sure why. She stroked his cheek again, then ran her hand down his arm, letting it rest there.

“I think they’re…like us,” she said softly. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like, or how they communicate. I imagine their environment would shape those things. But inside…. I think life is life. I’m sure there are both good and bad individuals, but as a whole…I think life wants to be good. I think we all just want the same things. To be happy. To make a difference. To leave our world better than we found it. To love and be loved.”

He was quiet. His eyes were stormy with an emotion she couldn’t place. He opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped and closed it, as if warring with himself.

“What, Clark?” she said quietly. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that you can’t be real. That I can’t possibly be this lucky,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “My whole life, I thought…. I just can’t believe you’re real, and you’re really here with me.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Clark…” she whispered, without a clue how to finish that sentence. He made her feel so many things, and all at once.

He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, and then his lips were on hers, and she didn’t need words. His lips caressed hers gently at first, then more fervently. She sighed softly, parting her lips in invitation, and he didn’t hesitate. His tongue slipped past her lips, tasting and teasing, and her heart raced in response.

His hand slid from her cheek, his fingers tracing a gentle path down her neck to her shoulder. She shivered, trembling under his touch. He pulled his mouth from hers, and when she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with such tenderness she thought she could cry.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and the smile on his face told her he knew she wasn’t, but wanted to check just in case.

She laughed. “No,” she said, tugging on his arm until he came back to her, slanting his lips across hers, and kissing her thoroughly until she was gasping his name. One of her hands rested on the back of his neck, the other traced a path up and down his arm, feeling the hardness of the muscles under the soft flannel of his shirt.

He had abandoned her neck, resting his hand at her waist instead, his fingers flexing and caressing gently. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin, and she cursed her choice of this dress, which left him with no option to edge underneath her shirt.

His kisses were intoxicating, and she desperately wanted…something more. He was frustratingly far away from her, still propped up on his elbow beside her; so much space between them.

She breathed his name and slid her hand from his arm up over his shoulder and then down the firm planes of his back, pulling him closer. He pulled back and hesitated for just a second, then moved his hand from her waist to cup her cheek again, kissing her sweetly before rolling closer and lowering his body to hers.

She whimpered at the delicious feel of his solid weight against her. Her hands roamed his back and shoulders, savoring the feel of him. His shirt had come loose from his jeans, just starting to untuck, and she hooked a finger under the hem, pulling it free. She slid her fingers under, tracing his soft skin and he dropped his head to her shoulder, and took a ragged breath, before whispering her name. He lifted his head again and pressed his lips to her neck, right at the sensitive spot where he had made her shiver with his touch.

“Oh, god,” she breathed.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke, his breath warm against her damp skin.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered, and she smiled as she felt his laughter rumble through his chest.

He kissed her again and again, trailing hot, wet kisses across her neck and throat. She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair, urging him on, when the other still traced random patterns on the bare skin of his back.

She whispered his name, almost reverently, as if reassuring herself that he was really here. That he was really real. She planted her foot on the ground and slid it up until her knee was bent, cradling him.

He slid his hand from her waist, across her hip and then up her raised thigh until he reached her bare knee, touching skin at last, and she sighed with approval. He reversed course, his hand sliding back up under her dress until his palm was splayed fully against the outside of her thigh, his thumb stroking gently.

Her head pressed back against the pillow, arching against him, and he trailed kisses from her neck to her throat, and then lower, across the open expanse of her chest, layering kisses along the sloping neckline of her dress. For just a moment she thought he was going to reach for the buttons of her dress, but before she could decide whether she wanted him to do it, his kisses moved higher again, up the other side and into the crook of her neck.

“Clark,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire.

He lifted his head and looked at her, waiting patiently for her to tell him what she wanted. Words failed her, and instead she cradled his face in her hands and guided him back up to her, needing to feel his lips on hers again.

It was her turn to explore his mouth, hungry for more of him. He met her passion and turned it back on her, kissing her until all coherent thought was gone and time passed in a blur of the taste of his mouth and the feel of his body under the starbright sky.

Finally, slowly, he gentled their kisses and brought them back to their senses. She lay under him, one hand stroking his cheek, gazing at him with an unspeakable tenderness. He kissed her sweetly again, and then eased back, resting his weight back on his hip and laying beside her instead. He withdrew his hand from under her dress, resting it at her waist again.

Neither of them spoke. There were no words in that moment that could add to what their bodies had already said. Her gaze went to the sky, overwhelmed by her feelings, and she let herself be awed again by the beauty of the sky without the bright lights of the city to distract.

“I never knew the stars could be so beautiful,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him.

He chuckled, and she thought he was laughing at her city girl naivete, until he began to speak again, soft and quiet. “She walks in beauty, like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies.”

She turned her gaze on him, and saw him watching her, his eyes full of adoration, as if it were she who was as beautiful as the starry skies.

“Are you quoting poetry to me? Under the stars?” she asked, a little laugh escaping. “You are not real. I must be dreaming. There is no way you are real.”

He laughed softly and lowered his mouth to hers again, his lips soft and insistent against hers.

When he finally pulled away, he smiled down at her and stroked her cheek. “Does that feel like a dream?”

“Come true,” she whispered, and she watched as he closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself, soaking in her words.

When he opened his eyes again, they gazed at each other in a gentle silence for a immeasurable amount of time, until finally she shivered, from the cold this time, and he rubbed her arm to warm her and nodded, acknowledging what they both knew but were reluctant to admit: that this night was coming to an end.

“It’s late,” he whispered. “And it’s getting cold. We should go.”

“I’m not ready,” she said. “I don’t want this to be over.”

“It’s not over,” he whispered, kissing her quickly. “It’s just the beginning. I’ll bring you back here. I’ll kiss you under the stars again.”

She reached for him, cradling his face in both her hands, and pulled him down for one more kiss. And though he had said it was time to go, he took his time, and she savored every moment in his arms.

*****

Lois woke early the next morning, despite their late night. She glanced at the clock, confirming it was still before eight, leaving her four hours before they had to leave for the airport, then closed her eyes and let herself drift back to the previous evening.

It all felt like a fairy tale. From the cheerful, perfect family dinner to the dizzying kisses under the stars, the whole night felt magical.

Once they finally dragged themselves from their stargazing nest, they made the short ride back to Clark’s in a comfortable silence. She could only assume he was as moved and overwhelmed as she was, and they needed that quiet ride back to sort out their feelings and douse their desire.

By the time they were back at his house, her passion had cooled, but she wasn’t ready to be finished with their evening, especially knowing that the rest of her visit was now being measured in hours. She wasn’t sure whether he read that reluctance on her face, or if he was just feeling the same way, but once they were back inside he suggested a movie and cup of tea, and she was all too eager to agree.

They had changed into their pajamas and cuddled on the couch, pretending to watch an old movie he found on a cable channel. In reality, she had been listening to his heartbeat, memorizing the feel of his chest under her cheek, soaking in every second of their time together before she had to leave him.

Eventually the long day and all the excitement had caught up with her, and she felt her eyelids growing heavy. She slid down until she was laying, curled on her side, her head in his lap. He stroked her hair gently, his fingers sifting through the strands, letting them fall back against her cheek, while she half listened to the movie play in the background, perfectly, utterly, content.

The next thing she knew, the room was dark and quiet, and Clark was easing gently out from under her. He crouched beside her, stroking her cheek until her eyelids stopped fluttering and stayed open.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked.

“About an hour,” he said with a smile. “The movie ended a while ago, but I didn’t want to move you.”

She stretched lazily, uninterested in moving from her spot. She rolled to her back and draped an arm over her eyes. He rubbed her stomach gently, his touch somehow both soothing and electrifying.

“Come on,” he said. “Sit up. Time for bed.”

“I don’t think I can move,” she whined playfully.

“All right,” he said. And then he was sliding his arms under her, cradling her to his chest, and standing.

“Clark,” she said, alarmed, as she looked around. Her eyes landed on his face, and she couldn’t help but smile at his sweet expression.

“Shh,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

And he did. He crossed the living room and climbed the stairs slowly and deliberately, without any rush. She gave up her ineffective protest and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. She sighed contentedly, marveling at the way he carried her so easily, without any effort at all.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped at the doorway to her room, holding her for just one more minute, before easing her legs to the floor.

“There you go,” he said. “Door to door service.”

She leaned back against the door frame and gazed up at him, sliding one hand down from his neck to his chest, where her fingers stroked lazily. His hands rested on her hips, and she could see in his eyes that he was just about to withdraw them and say goodnight. She tugged at his neck instead, stopping his retreat, and his lips were on hers instantly.

These kisses were soft and gentle, meant to soothe and comfort not entice or excite. When he pulled away, she stroked his cheek and thanked him again for a perfect evening. And he looked at her with wonder, as if he truly couldn’t believe she was thanking him. He kissed her one last time, and then she slipped into the room, leaning her back against the door for the longest time while she attempted to make sense of this night and this weekend and what it meant for her future.

Finally she crawled into bed and fell immediately into a dreamless slumber.

And now she was awake, but still reluctant to climb out from under her warm quilt. Once she got up, it was going to be time to shower and get dressed and pack and have a final meal together and then leave for the airport. Then the weekend would be over and it would be back to real life.

Real life.

Her eyes flew open. Luthor. The Boss.

She had shoved all thoughts of Luthor and this breakthrough aside last night. There was nothing she could do about it from Smallville, with all her files and research back in Metropolis. But now she was just hours away from being back home. She could drop her suitcase off at home, pick up her Jeep, and head straight to the newsroom. She could start digging for the connection she knew would be there if she looked hard enough.

She threw back the covers and stood, listening quietly for a moment and hearing no movement. She crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. His door was still shut, and she realized he must still be sleeping. She smiled, imagining him asleep in his bed.

She pulled the door shut and headed for the bathroom instead, showering quickly and towel drying her hair, before slipping on jeans and a simple burgundy top. She was returning to the bathroom to hang her towel, when she spotted her work bag, left abandoned beside her suitcase where she had dropped it on Thursday evening. She hadn’t touched it all weekend – hadn’t even thought about it – and she had almost forgotten she had even brought it. She hung the towel quickly, and snagged the bag, setting it on the bed so she could rifle through the contents. Her laptop and a couple of files – one with background on the latest target of the Toasters and one with the financial files Jimmy had finally dug up on the second-to-last target.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. But before she could do anything, she needed coffee.

She opened her door and saw his was still shut, so she walked as lightly as possible down the stairs in an effort to let him sleep. In the kitchen, she brewed a pot of coffee, waiting impatiently for it to finish so she could fix herself a cup. Then she made herself at home at the kitchen table, spreading out her research.

She scanned the background info on TelTech Labs first. They were the latest victim, their headquarters having burnt down just last week.

It took her only minutes to see it. CEO Joshua Lambeth. Lambeth had been a managing director at LexLabs before it was shuttered. This was no smoking gun. It made sense other local labs had snapped up top tier scientists and researchers when they became available. But it was a link she wouldn’t have seen a week ago.

She opened a new file on her computer and typed in his name, along with a series of questions she needed answered – What was his connection to Luthor? Was there bad blood between them? Had they had any contact since Luthor’s arrest?

Back and forth she went. Scanning the printouts, underline and highlighting, then typing up follow up questions in her file. She was so engrossed, she didn’t hear him come down the stairs, or enter the kitchen.

She felt him watching her before she heard him. She looked up, and found him standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gazing at her, eyes full of longing.

“Hey,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I…” She waved a hand at the mess she had spread all over his table.

He smiled and shook his head. “I told you to make yourself at home.”

He didn’t move though, didn’t come into the kitchen and join her at the table or make himself a cup of coffee.

“What?” she asked finally.

He shook his head, and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t even know this was a fantasy of mine. You. Wet hair and barefoot at my kitchen table immersed in your work. But…you’re so beautiful. And you look….so right here.”

Her chest constricted. She heard what he was telling her. What he wanted. The future he was seeing. And in that moment, she wanted it desperately too.

She whispered his name, and he crossed the room to her, pulling out the chair beside her to sit, and then leaning forward and kissing her.

When he pulled away, she took a few breaths to steady herself as she watched him survey the papers covering his table.

“Did you find anything?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m not sure what it means. But the CEO of this lab used to work for LexLabs. And nothing about these Jameson Industries financials jumps out at me as being Luthor-related, but they’re also making monthly payments to Intergang. So I’m not sure if that’s a coincidence, or if there’s a Luthor/Intergang connection that I’ve been missing.”

“You think they’re his arm on the outside?” he asked.

She grimaced and equivocated for a second. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “That seems unlikely. But maybe? Maybe if he was desperate enough? Maybe if there was something in it for each of them? He retains control, they get rich? I only have a couple files here. I should be able to get a better picture once I go through everything I have on each of the arson victims.”

He stood and walked to the coffee pot, fixing himself a cup, and leaning against the counter to watch her.

She started to gather her papers, organizing them into stacks and placing them back in their folders.

“You don’t have to do that just because I’m awake,” he said. “I know how important this is to you. I can entertain myself while you work.”

She shook her head immediately, putting the files back in her bag. “I’ll be home tonight. I’ll have plenty of time to work on this. We only have a few hours left. I don’t want to spend them working.”

It was a shocking thing for her to say. Even more shocking because she meant it.

He sat back beside her, his coffee mug cradled in his hand. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

Suddenly she was starving. She nodded.

“Do you want to walk down to Maisie’s? Or do you want me to cook for you?”

There was no question about it, of course. Once he offered to cook for her, she had to see if this perfect man could also cook. And he could. He made her bacon and scrambled eggs fresh from the farm, and his mother’s French toast recipe that melted in her mouth and put to shame anything she had ever eaten at a trendy Metropolis brunch spot.

Chapter Text

After they worked together to do the dishes and clean the kitchen, she curled up beside him on the wide wooden swing on his porch and they watched the neighborhood bustle with life on a beautiful fall morning. Everyone who passed waved or stopped to say hello, and after yet another cheerful greeting, she began to giggle.

Clark pulled back to look at her quizzically and she lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled at him, then reached up to stroke his cheek. “Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t adore you?”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “They all just want a glimpse of the pretty girl who came for the corn festival. They are far more interested in you than me.”

In the distance, the church bell chimed ten times and Lois tensed automatically. He tightened his arm around her shoulder, and she rested her head against him again, trying not to think about the ticking clock.

“It’s only five weeks until Fall Break,” he said quietly.

She nodded. She was holding back the tears through sheer force of will, and there was no way she would be able to speak without her voice cracking.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he said slowly. “You can come any time in November. Anytime…at all. You’re always…. I always want you here. But you should think about Thanksgiving. My mom wasn’t kidding about wanting to have you. And I would really love that.”

She was quiet, his heartfelt invitation prompting another wave of tears prickling at her eyes, swelling the already thick lump in her throat.

“No pressure,” he repeated. “We haven’t really discussed holidays. I don’t know what you usually do.”

“I usually just work,” she admitted quietly. When he didn’t respond right away, she took a breath and continued. “A few years ago, Lucy and I went to my mom’s place in New York for Thanksgiving. It was miserable. Every year since, she pretends to invite us, and we pretend we can’t come because we have to work. And then she goes on a cruise, and Lucy…does whatever Lucy does, and I work.”

“What about your dad?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged. “My dad barely bothered to show up to Thanksgiving even when he lived with us. I haven’t seen him in person in years. He’s working at Cedars-Sinai now, and….” She shrugged again. Los Angeles was about as far as he could get from Metropolis, and it might as well have been another planet.

“I called him last year after I won the Pulitzer,” she said. “I thought maybe… I don’t know. He seemed happy for me. Perry was hosting a reception. I thought maybe… I was in the middle of inviting him when something happened in the lab, and he had to hang up abruptly. He said he would call me back, but….” She shrugged, not bothering to finish the sentence just as he hadn’t bothered to call back.

She gave a brief mirthless laugh. “It must have reminded him to have his new secretary start sending us birthday cards again though. I got a card from him in May.”

She could feel him stiffen in confusion. “Your birthday-”

“Lucy’s birthday is in May,” she said.

He took a deep, slow breath and she lifted her head to look at him. She had avoided this discussion because she didn’t want his pity. But this wasn’t pity, it was fury. She watched him consider and reject multiple responses.

“Please come for Thanksgiving,” he said finally, calm again. He held her gaze, “I want you to come so badly. It’s always so much fun, and it will be better if you’re here.”

She hesitated for just another second – imagining a louder, more crowded version of last night – and then nodded.

His face lit up with a smile. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, all the disappointment and loneliness of past Thanksgivings melting away.

He kissed her, and she laughed at the unabashed joy on his face. She had never known it could feel so good to make someone else happy. And she had never imagined that her presence could be the thing to make someone so happy.

She laid her head back on his shoulder, and they rocked in silence for a minute.

“Oh, here we go,” Clark said suddenly, clearly amused.

She lifted her head to look at him, confused, and he jerked his head toward the intersection just north of his house, where Lana and Pete and their kids were turning the corner.

The kids spotted him immediately and started waving and jumping up and down. Their parents held onto their hands long enough to get them safely across the street, and then released them. Untethered, the children took off, sprinting past three houses. Sophie pulled ahead and Lois heard Caleb whine, “No fair! Wait for me!”

Sophie had no intention of waiting though and cut across Clark’s lawn, making a beeline for the porch steps.

“Uncle Clark! Uncle Clark! We’re going to the playground! And Daddy said we could come this way and say hi only if you were on the porch! No knocking on the door because you might be busy! And Mommy said there was no way you were going to be on the porch! But you are!”

Every sentence was punctuated with an exclamation mark, and Lois was fairly certain it had all been expelled in a single breath. She raised an eyebrow at that last sentence, and Clark laughed.

By the time Sophie had made it up the stairs and into Clark’s lap, Caleb was halfway across the yard.

“Mommy said there would be no way we would be on the porch, huh?” Clark probed, giving Lois a wink and a grin over Sophie’s head.

“She said Lois has to leave soon and she was sure you had better things to do than sit on the front porch. But here you are!”

“Here we are,” Clark echoed, and Lois could see him struggling not to laugh as Caleb launched himself onto the swing as well.

They listened as both kids talked over one another, chattering about the park and the corn festival and the pancakes they’d had for breakfast. Lois listened quietly, and she watched Clark engage with them, responding with appropriate shock and awe to all their pronouncements.

“Do you like pancakes, Lois?” Caleb asked her suddenly, scooting onto her lap.

She was stunned for a moment, not expecting to be anything but an observer to this interaction.

“Sure,” she said finally, smiling at the little boy’s expectant face. “But you know what I like even better? French toast. That’s what Uncle Clark made us for breakfast today.”

She was immediately met with a chorus of whines and shrieks of “no fair!”

“French toast is our favorite! We always have it on sleepover nights,” Sophie told her, and then turned to Clark. “When can we have another sleepover?”

“Yeah! Sleepover!” Caleb agreed.

Clark laughed. “Maybe next weekend. Go ask your parents.”

The kids were out of their laps and down the stairs in record time, nearly colliding with Pete and Lana who were coming up the front walk.

Clark turned to her and smiled sheepishly as he slid his arm back around her shoulders. “Sorry, I didn’t know-”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, resting a hand on his thigh and squeezing gently. “They’re fine. They’re adorable.”

Lois generally had very little use for children and honestly never gave them much thought as long as they weren’t personally inconveniencing her. But it was impossible not to be charmed by Lana’s children, particularly when it was so obvious how bonded they were to Clark.

“Sorry to intrude,” Pete said as he climbed the stairs. “I told them we could walk this way, but I didn’t think you’d actually be out on the porch.”

“Yes,” Lana said slowly, her appraising gaze moving back and forth between them. “We thought you’d be otherwise occupied.”

“Well, we were enjoying a nice quiet conversation before your minions descended on us,” Clark teased. Said minions were running amok in the yard, shrieking about the sleepover their parents had apparently agreed to.

They made small talk for a few minutes, and then just as Pete and Lana started making noises about leaving and heading to the playground, Sophie appeared on the porch needing to use the bathroom. Since they were going inside anyway, Clark volunteered to grab his copy of In the Lake of the Woods for Lana, who was dying to read it after listening to Lois and Clark banter about their theories at dinner the first night of her visit, leaving Lois on the porch with Pete and Caleb.

“Did you have a nice visit?” Pete asked, once they were alone.

She nodded immediately. “It was great. I can’t believe it’s over already. It went by so quickly.”

“You’ll have to come again,” Pete said with a quick smile.

Lois hesitated, then smiled nervously. “I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”

Pete raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Okay, then. That’ll be nice.”

Before she could think of anything else to say, Mrs. Murphy pulled into her driveway next door and gave a quick wave. They returned her wave, and Pete greeted her by name. When he saw her open the door to the backseat and begin to pull out bags of groceries, Pete turned to Lois.

“I’m going to go help her with those. Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head toward Caleb, who was on his knees at the top of the steps rummaging in Lana’s oversized bag.

“Of course,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Pete jogged over, calling to Mrs. Murphy to wait and let him help, and Lois couldn’t help but smile. It was no wonder he and Clark were such good friends. They had the same quiet kindness about them.

Caleb emerged victorious with an obviously well loved book. He looked up and glanced around, and Lois could tell he was just realizing that both his parents were gone.

“Your dad just went next door,” Lois said, pointing. “He’ll be right back.”

“Will you read my book?” he asked, holding it up, apparently not at all worried about his dad’s disappearance.

Lois nodded, happy to grant an easy request rather than fill the silence with awkward conversation. Caleb came over to the swing, and climbed up, settling himself in her lap again, and she laughed softly at his innocence.

He handed her the book, and she smiled at the cheerful collection of barnyard animals. “I remember this book from when I was a little girl,” she said.

“Really?” Caleb asked.

“Sure, it was one of my little sister’s favorites. I used to read it to her all the time.”

“It’s my favorite too! My Nana and Papa have a red barn just like that! And they have horses too. I like to feed them apples and carrots.”

“Really?” she said. “I’ve never fed a horse before.”

“You have to be real brave,” he said solemnly, twisting to face her. “And you have to do your hand like this,” he added, taking her hand and turning it over and palm up and stretching the fingers out flat. “So the horses don’t accidentally nibble you.”

She looked at his sweet, serious face and his big brown eyes and was suddenly completely smitten with this little boy. “Maybe next time I visit, we can feed the horses. Uncle Clark took me to his parents’ barn, but they didn’t have any animals.”

Caleb shook his head in pity. “Yeah, they only got chickens. My Nana and Papa got horses and goats. When Sophie gets big enough, she’s gonna get her own baby goat for 4H.”

“And you too?” Lois asked. “When you’re big enough?”

Caleb shook his head. “Uh uh, I’m getting a llama.”

Lois stifled a laugh, and Caleb twisted back around and setted his back against her chest, and she held the book in front of him.

“The Big Red Barn. By Margaret Wise Brown,” she read softly. She opened the cover and continued. “By the big red barn…in the great green field…there was a pink pig…who was learning to squeal. There was a great big horse…and a very little horse…and on every barn…is a weather vane, of course – a golden, flying horse.”

They read and rocked, snuggled together in the warm autumn sun. Lulled by the gentle cadence of the book and the swaying of the porch swing, Lois forgot for a moment about her impending flight and leaving Clark and her investigation and all the wonderful but scary changes in her life, and just let the innocent story unfold.

She heard the front door open and expected Sophie to burst out and interrupt the story, but no one said a thing, and Caleb didn’t turn, so she kept reading. “And there they were…all night long…sound asleep…in the big red barn. Only the mice were left to play…rustling and squeaking in the hay. While the moon sailed high…in the dark night sky.”

The story finished, she turned and looked to the doorway and found Clark standing alone, watching her. “Hi,” he said softly, when her eyes met his.

“Hi,” she replied with a shy smile.

“I see you made a friend.” His eyes were full of affection and longing, and she saw him again, standing in the kitchen doorway watching her the same way as she sat at his kitchen table with her investigation before her. Her stomach fluttered, imagining the future he was seeing; equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

She smiled and rested her cheek for a moment against the little boy’s sandy brown curls.

“We were just doing a little light reading,” she teased. “A little research. On barns. And the animals that are supposed to live in them.”

She closed the book and held it up, and she watched Clark’s face as he processed her words and his eyes drifted to the cover and took in the collection of farm animals standing in front of the barn. He threw back his head and laughed.

The door opened again, and Lana and Sophie stepped out. Lana looked from Lois to Clark. “What’s so funny?”

Clark shook his head, but Lois lifted the book in Lana’s direction. “I have it on good authority that barns are supposed to contain pink pigs, and big and little horses, and sheep and donkeys, and geese and goats. But Clark acted like I was an idiot when I was surprised by the complete lack of farm animals in his parents’ barn.”

Lana laughed. “He offered you a tour, and you were expecting fluffy sheep and fat little piglets?”

“Yes!” Lois replied. “I got cheated. It was just a bunch of machinery.”

Caleb patted her on the arm, and turned to look at her. “Don’t worry. You can come to my Nana and Papa’s barn next time.”

“Thank you,” Lois said solemnly, Then she turned to Clark and grinned at him. “At least someone around here knows how to show a city girl some real farm action.”

Clark and Lana both laughed, and Lana reached for the book, replacing it in her bag and sliding the strap over her shoulder. Pete emerged from the house next door and headed their way.

“Time to say goodbye,” Lana said. “Caleb, say thank you to Lois for reading your book.”

“Thank you!” Caleb said automatically. Then he twisted in her lap and threw his arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. Lois froze for just a second, caught off guard again by his impulsive affection, before returning the hug.

He pulled back, and she released him, but he didn’t immediately hop off her lap. “Will you read me more books when you come back next time?” he asked, big brown eyes full of hope.

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

“Will you come next week for the sleepover?” he asked eagerly.

Lois felt the lump return to her throat as she shook her head regretfully.

“Not next week,” she said. “But soon. I’ll see you at Thanksgiving.”

“Okay!” he said, hopping down. Over his head, she saw Lana look up at her in surprise, and then smile.

Lois stood, joining the general bustle of activity on the porch as Pete and Lana tried to herd the kids away to the playground. Pete nodded a quick goodbye in her direction, and led Caleb down the steps by the hand, Sophie hot on their heels.

“So,” Lana said when it was just the three of them. “Thanksgiving?”

Lois nodded, a flutter of nerves in her stomach. And then Lana’s arms were around her in a tight hug, and Lois was laughing, understanding exactly where Caleb’s impulsive affection came from.

“Good,” Lana said, when they separated. She rummaged briefly in the bag she was carrying and came out with a small notepad and a purple pen. She handed both to Lois. “Give me your email address. I’ll email you when I remember the name of that book I was telling you about. And you can keep me up to date on your travel plans since some people obviously cannot be trusted with that task.”

She shot Clark a dirty look, and Lois laughed wondering how long it would take her to forgive him for neglecting to mention this visit. She wrote her email address on the notepad dutifully and handed it back.

Lana hugged her quickly one more time and told her to have a safe flight, then told Clark she would see him the next day, and trotted down the steps and out to the sidewalk to catch up with her family. Caleb twisted around one last time and called out a final goodbye to Lois, and Clark chuckled.

“Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t adore you?” he teased, and she laughed, reveling in this foreign feeling of belonging.

She reached for him and he kissed her gently. When they pulled apart, he held out a hand to her, and she expected him to lead her back to the swing. Instead, he tugged her toward the door.

“We need to go inside,” he said, his voice low and intimate, quickening her heart automatically.

“Why?” she asked, allowing him to lead her toward the door.

“Because I need to kiss you in a way that will scandalize my neighbors,” he said, reaching for the door knob, and she laughed with delight and anticipation as he dropped her hand and pressed his palm against the small of her back, ushering her into the house.

Chapter Text

Clark watched as the last of his student newspaper staff filed out of his room, their early-morning meeting complete, and then tidied up his desk. The familiar tapping of high heels came closer, and he smothered a laugh as he looked up and saw Lana cross the hall from her classroom to his.

“Spill,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her. “I want every detail.”

“We have homeroom-”

“We have twenty minutes. Don’t bullshit me.”

Clark laughed, knowing there would be no deterring her.

“What do you want to know?”

“You went to Metropolis? You surprised her at work?”

They weren’t actually questions, but he nodded anyway, confirming.

She looked at him pointedly, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I went to Metropolis in June. For a weekend. You know that part. It was…amazing. But it was platonic. Sort of. I mean, we both… We had feelings, but we weren’t acting on them. She had been so clear about not wanting a long-distance relationship, that we needed to stay just friends. But it was… When I left, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It took me a week before I broke down and started writing her letters. I sent her letters and postcards for the rest of my trip. They were…not platonic. She couldn’t write back, so I had no idea how she was feeling. If she…”

He trailed off, unsure how to even describe that time. Lana nodded, then sat on a desk in the front row and waited for him to continue.

“On the way home, I took a later connecting flight. I told her my flight was overbooked, but…” He shrugged, offering up the half truth, as honest as he could be with Lana. “I went straight to her work. I didn’t even know if she would be there. I didn’t know if she would be happy or horrified to see me. I didn’t know anything except that I had to see her.”

“And she flew into your arms,” Lana said.

He furrowed his brow, wondering how she knew that.

“I heard her,” she said with a laugh. “When you brought her to the Cloverbud booth and Sophie jumped into your arms.”

The memory surfaced, and he laughed. “Yeah, she flew into my arms. And before I left, I kissed her. It was….” He trailed off again, unable to put into words all the emotions he had felt that day.

“And then you invited her to the Corn Festival and didn’t tell me?” Lana prompted.

“It wasn’t like that. We didn’t make plans right away. I don’t think either of us knew what it meant or what we were doing. School wasn’t in session yet, so I had all this free time. We were talking all the time. And then school…and football…and life just got busy. And then I called her over Labor Day weekend, and…she was so sad, Lana. She said she missed me.”

Lana’s face turned tender, and he nodded. “It was breaking my heart. She wanted me to come there for Fall Break. But then when I told her Fall Break wasn’t until October, I thought she was going to cry. I just…invited her. I didn’t even think she would come. Why in the world would she want to come to the Smallville Corn Festival? But she didn’t even hesitate. The second I mentioned it, she said she would be here. That was just a couple of weeks ago. It was all spur of the moment.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me,” she said softly. And he knew for all her bluster, she was hurt. She was his best friend. His almost sister. She told him all her secrets. Always had. Guilt ate at him for the secrets he had always kept from her.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, letting her see his regret. “I should have told you. I thought about it a million times. But things were so…undefined between us. I really wasn’t sure what to expect when she came. I didn’t know how to answer all the questions you were sure to have. I didn’t know how to talk about it.”

“And now?”

“Things are…a lot more defined,” he said with a smile.

Lana’s face broke out in a wide smile, and her eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “I’m so happy for you,” she said. “She’s wonderful.”

“She’s…yeah,” he said. “She’s amazing.”

“You bailed on fireworks,” she said, raising an eyebrow curiously.

He shook his head. Of course she noticed. “We were having dinner at the farm. We were having fun and didn’t want to leave, so we decided to skip it.”

“That’s sweet,” she said. “I’m glad it went well. Apparently my mom called your mom to tell her Sophie won Corn Princess, and she was too busy freaking out about some fancy new recipe she was making to talk for long.”

Clark laughed, remembering the carrots and his father’s reaction to them.

“So that’s it? You stayed for dinner and then went home….” she trailed off suggestively.

Clark hesitated, then decided to tell her. “After dinner, I took her out by the pond to look at the stars.”

“Oh?” she said, obviously impressed with this plan.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hold back his smile. He let his memory drift back to that night under the stars. The taste of her skin. The sound of his name on her lips. The feel of his hand sliding under her dress.

“So….” she said with a wicked glint in her eye. “Did you two…”

“Lana!” he said, appalled.

“What?” she said with a laugh. “It’s okay. You’re consenting adults.”

He sighed. Unsure how to talk about any of this. Unsure if he should be telling her any of this. “We didn’t.… We’re not.… I don’t want to rush this, Lana. I have one chance. I’m not going to screw it up by pushing her…. I want to do this right….”

Her suggestive smirk slid from her face, replaced by a look of awe. “Oh,” she said softly. “You’re in love with her.”

He held her gaze, but said nothing, neither confirming nor denying feelings he hadn’t yet put into words himself.

“What’s next?” she asked gently, all teasing gone from their conversation suddenly.

He shrugged, suddenly nervous. “I sent her flowers.”

“Good boy,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “What did you write in the card?”

“Lana,” he said, astounded as always by her lack of boundaries.

She just looked at him, waiting.

He shook his head, aggravated. But he wanted her advice, and he knew this was the price he would have to pay to get it.

“When we were…under the stars, I quoted the opening stanza from She Walks in Beauty. So, I put that on the card.”

Lana let out a slow breath. “Damn. Okay.”

“That’s…good?” he asked, suddenly nervous. “That was a good choice?”

Lana laughed. “How did she react when you recited poetry to her under the stars?”

“She…liked it,” he said, remembering Lois’ sweet laughter, her hand on his cheek, her claim that he could not possibly be real, that he was a dream come true.

“Yeah,” Lana said, laughing harder. “I bet she did.”

“What do I do next?” he asked softly. “I want…. I won’t see her for a month. I don’t want….”

“She’s not going to forget about you,” Lana reassured him quietly. “I know you think Pulitzer winning reporters from Metropolis don’t fall in love with English teachers from Kansas, but Clark…if you could see the way she looks at you…. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Whatever it is…it’s working.”

“Thanks,” he said, and Lana squeezed his arm and gave him a smile before striding smugly from his room.

He swallowed thickly, trying not to let the fear settle in his chest. Trying not to listen to the voice in his head that said he didn’t deserve her, that he wasn’t good enough for her. That she wouldn’t want to be with him if she knew the truth.

He closed his eyes and let his memory drift back to that night under the stars. To that moment before he kissed her, before she whispered his name as his hand slid under her dress, before she begged him not to stop. To the moment when she looked at him, eyes solemn and guileless, and told him that she thought that if there was life out there in the universe, that it was “just like us”. And for the first time, he let himself believe that he could love someone, and they could love him – all of him – in return.

It was a future he had never allowed himself to contemplate, never even allowed himself to dream about. But she made him brave. Made him bold. Made him want to believe. His heart, guarded so heavily for so long, was ready to dream. And it was dreaming of her.

*****

“All right, people. What have we got?” Perry asked, looking around the conference room table.

Lois tuned out the updates from other staff reporters, outlining their progress on their assignments already in progress. She had arrived extra early and spoken briefly to Perry, telling him she had a major breakthrough and needed to update him. There hadn’t been time before the morning meeting, so they were going to meet after. Which left Lois with nothing of any importance to discuss during the meeting.

She cast a longing glance through the window to her desk, where her files were waiting for her. These meetings felt like a waste of time under the best of circumstances. Today, sitting here listening to Ralph talk about his source’s claim that the mayor and his wife were members of a swingers club made her want to tear her hair out.

Last night, after taking a cab home from the airport, dropping off her stuff, and making a quick call to Clark to let him know she made it home safely, she had headed straight to the newsroom. It had been a ghost town at seven o’clock on a Sunday, and it hadn’t taken any effort at all to lose herself in her research. Only her growling stomach had finally dragged her away from her desk two hours later.

She had taken a thick stack of folders home and poured over them again as she ate a frozen dinner and a bag of microwave popcorn. It had been nearly two in the morning by the time she finally fell asleep, and she was back in the office before eight, hoping to catch Perry before the morning meeting.

Her story was nowhere near the writing stage yet, but the investigation was finally moving. So far she had found at least one link to Luthor in each of the six companies who had been victims of the new Toasters. She would need to drill down on each of those and see if she could determine which were simply coincidences and which might signify something more sinister.

The door to the conference room opened, and Cat slithered in, wiggling her fingers in a wave at Dan from Sports, and Lois curled her lip in disgust. Perry ignored Cat’s tardiness, and jerked his head at the only empty seat left at the table. Cat sauntered over and slid into the seat, almost directly across from Lois.

When her gaze found Lois, her face lit up, and she raised an eyebrow and mouthed, “Kansas?” expectantly.

Lois rolled her eyes and focused her gaze, if not her attention, back on Perry.

Cat made a scuffling, furtive motion that Lois caught out of the corner of her eye, and she realized Cat was waving a notebook at her from across the table again. When she saw that she had succeeded in getting Lois’ attention, Cat held the notepad still. Despite her best intentions, Lois couldn’t help but read it.

“Did he make a woman out of you?” she had scrawled lengthwise across her reporter’s notepad.

Lois gave her a disgusted look and turned away again. Every time Lois started to feel something akin to affection for the woman, she went and did something to remind her why their relationship never quite made it all the way to friendship.

What was that question supposed to mean, anyway? As if her womanhood was defined by the men she slept with. Not that she had slept with Clark. Obviously. But Cat didn’t know that. Of course she would assume….

Lois’ imagination provided a slideshow of exactly what Cat was assuming. What was it she had called him? Take-me-under-the-bleachers-and-have-your-way-with-me hot? There hadn’t been any bleachers, but he had taken her under the stars and…. Well, not exactly had his way with her, but….

Her mind flashed back to that night – his body on hers, his hand under her dress, his mouth…. There had been a moment – more than just a moment if she was honest – where she had considered throwing caution to wind and ignoring her desire to take things slow. If he could make her feel that much with just his kisses and few chaste touches, imagine what he could make her feel….

Cat’s curious smirk brought her back to the present. She was blushing, she realized. And given the trajectory of her thoughts, she could only imagine the look on her face. Of course, Cat missed nothing, and Lois had no doubt she had a better than good idea of where her thoughts had been just now.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” Perry said, concluding the meeting. Lois breathed a sigh of relief, eager to escape Cat’s inquisitive gaze.

The staff filtered out of the room and back to their desks, and Lois followed Perry into his office.

“How was Kansas?” he asked as soon as the door was closed.

She froze, caught off guard, by both the question and the fact that he knew where she had been. She was certain she hadn’t mentioned it before she left. She had intentionally been vague about her vacation plans, simply saying she was going to visit a friend.

Perry laughed and sat down behind his desk. “I didn’t get to be editor because I can yodel,” he said. “You really didn’t think I knew which friend you were going to visit?”

Lois felt her cheeks warm again. “It was…wonderful. But I’m back now, and I have an update on the arsons.”

Perry raised an eyebrow at the abrupt change of topic, but nodded at her to go on. She filled him in quickly, outlining her epiphany, the link to the original Toasters investigation, and the connections she had made so far between Luthor and the various victims.

“It’s Luthor, Perry. I know it. I know it in my gut. It’s just like before.”

“All right. All right,” he said, holding up a hand to stave off any pleas for his support. “You’ve got a good start here. I’ll hold off on any daily assignments for now unless something big breaks. You can focus on this for a while.”

“Thank you!” she said, standing. “This could be big.”

“You itching for another Pulitzer already?” he teased.

“You’re only as good as your next story, right?”

Perry laughed as she headed for his door.

“Hey, Lois,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. She turned to face him, hand on the door knob. “You didn’t spend the whole time you were on vacation working on this did you? You know…there’ll always be another Pulitzer….”

She smiled fondly at him, thankful for his concern. Their relationship had never been strictly business, and she often thought of him as the father she wished she’d had.

“I didn’t work at all while I was on vacation,” she said softly. “Well, not until the very end anyway. It was…a really great weekend.”

“That’s good, darlin’,” he said with a grin.

She hesitated, and then decided to just go ahead and say it. “Just a heads up, I’m going to put in for a few days off next month too.”

His eyebrows crept up. “Is that so? Heading back to Kansas already?”

“He’s coming here,” she said. “I’ll…go there again in November.”

“Good,” he said softly. “That’s real good.”

“I should….” she said, tilting her head toward the door.

“Yep,” he said. “You get back to work. Keep me updated.”

“Thanks, Perry,” she said, grateful for both the professional and personal support.

She slipped out the door and made her way back to her desk, weaving around her coworkers as they rushed off to assignments. She couldn’t help smiling as she thought of Perry’s questions and his obvious approval when she mentioned visiting Clark again.

Clark. Her mind drifted back to their weekend, and her smile widened. The whole thing had so far exceeded any possible expectations she might have had. She’d had so much fun with his family and friends, and had so enjoyed his friendly little town. And as utterly charmed by him as she had been in Miami and Metropolis and in his letters and phone calls, in Smallville, he was…so much more…just Clark.

“Hey, Lois!” Jimmy called, startling her out of her reverie. “So…Kansas went well?”

She squinted at him in confusion, not sure what he could have possibly heard that would make him grin at her with that self-satisfied smirk.

“I take it you haven’t seen your desk?” he teased. He gave her a gentler smile, and waved a hand toward her desk.

A large bouquet in beautiful fall colors sat on the otherwise clear surface, and Lois smiled immediately, raising a hand to her mouth shyly. Of course he sent flowers. Of course.

She heard Jimmy laugh as she picked up her pace and made a beeline for her desk, arriving just a second too late to prevent Cat from plucking the florist’s card from where it was tucked behind a yellow rose.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Lois said, not even joking this time.

Cat skimmed the note, raised an eyebrow and handed it over.

“I’m not kidding,” Lois said. “Knock it off. This is…”

She trailed off, her attention shifting to the card in her hand. Four words in, she recognized the quote, and inhaled sharply.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies

I miss you already.
– CK

“He quotes Byron?” Cat said.

“You recognize Byron?” Lois replied automatically, sliding the card back into the envelope and examining the flowers. Red, yellow, and orange roses tangled with another flower Lois didn’t recognize, some sort of miniature lily in red and yellow along with stalks of greenery. It was a beautiful arrangement. She leaned close and breathed in the heady scent.

“Who’s Byron?” Jimmy asked from behind her.

She straightened and looked back and forth between Cat and Jimmy, and then turned and sat at her desk, trying to ignore them.

Jimmy dropped into the chair beside her desk and looked at her expectantly. “So… The flowers say it was a good weekend?”

“The card says it was an excellent weekend,” Cat said with her trademark grin.

“It was….a great weekend,” she confirmed. “I had a really wonderful time. I had a lot more fun than I expected to have in Kansas. His parents are really-”

“You met his parents?” Cat asked immediately, obviously taken aback.

“We had dinner with them one night,” Lois confirmed. She could see Cat reevaluating her assumptions about the weekend.

“He took you to meet his parents…and then he sent you flowers and poetry?”

Lois nodded, a giddy smile creeping across her face.

“Poetry?” Jimmy asked, and Lois gave up on holding out on him. She picked the card up off her desk and handed it over. He read it quickly and handed it back, grinning. “Must have been a pretty good weekend if the first thing he does on a Monday morning is order flowers.”

Lois’ smile widened silently as a kaleidoscope of memories flashed in front of her eyes. His hand on her back as she ate dinner with his family; his arms around her on the dance floor as he promised he didn’t want to dance with anyone else; the look in his eye when he told her he wasn’t seeing anyone else and didn’t want to see anyone else; the ache that throbbed through her when he whispered her name against her kiss-damped skin under the starry sky.

“So?” Jimmy prompted.

She looked at him, confused.

“Was the weekend flowers-worthy?”

She laughed and gave into her desire to gush about the weekend. “It was…yeah. It was the best weekend I’ve had in… ever,” she said with a laugh. “It was the best weekend ever.”

When she left for Smallville four days earlier, she had been excited but conflicted. She couldn’t wait to see him, to feel his touch, to kiss him again. But she hadn’t been sure this was a good idea. Any of it. He lived so far away. She had a policy against long-distance relationships. No matter how much she cared about him, it just seemed like a recipe for disaster. But now, after four days with him, her heart was all in.

From the moment she had met Clark in Miami, Lois’s heart had been begging her to give him a chance. A real, true chance. A chance to make all her dreams come true. She had fought it so hard. She had tried first to let him go after the conference. And when she couldn’t do that, she tried to contain their relationship to friendship. But now she was done fighting what her heart so obviously wanted.

She still didn’t know how they would manage the logistics, how often they’d be able to see each other. But it was only five weeks until his Fall Break visit. And the rest of it…well, they would figure it out. They had to. Because it didn’t matter whether this was a good idea or whether this fit the rules Lois had set for herself – her heart had made its decision.

Her heart wanted Clark Kent.