Chuckling as Chloe goes to get them a couple of beers, equally outraged and disgusted by her neighboors dancing like no one is watching, her eyes wander next to the dance floor again, settling on one of the tables left to the stage.
And here he is.
Expression focused on what Tom is saying, he nods, both arms crossed on the wooden table as people move around them, wiggling to get to their own table, to the crowded bar or towards the front of the scene where Eddy and his band are letting loose.
He's changed a lot, since she last saw him.
Saw him fo real, that is: God knows she sees him a lot, on the news. Everytime, it brings a smile to her face: despite his father's advice, he'd been wanting to use his powers for good for years, and now, he's finally doing it. Deep down, she's always known he would.
Physically, he's the same, with his mop of dark curls and his gigantic frame softened by the flannel shirt and the sincerity in his blue eyes. His strong jaw and perfectly shaped face still betray his God-like heritage, though. At one point, he chuckles at what his companion says, beer in hand, and it occurs to her that she forgot just how beautiful he is. Not just cute, or sexy -
Truly beautiful.
He's still the same, and yet, something's changed. The boy she knew was lost, confused. Haunted by so many questions he couldn't get answers to, it was eating him alive. The boy she knew was scared – of others, of himself. The boy she knew struggled under the weight of so much interrogations, so much responsability and, later, so much pain brought by the loss of one of the two people he loved the most on this planet. Tonight -
Tonight, the man she sees seems - liberated. At peace.
And maybe it's because the world has accepted him now. That most certainly plays a part, in fact: after so many rejections, so much trouble fitting in, it seems he's finally found his place and purpose. Yes, she thinks, that is indeniably part of why the man she has before her tonight is so different from the one she knew, but she also knows that that change comes from something else.
Someone, really. It's not that hard to notice, when you look.
She comes back to the table discretely, smiling at Clark when he looks up at her before sliding on her chair next to him. His eyes light up.
Not just his eyes, really – his entire face does, and even if he was already smiling, she can still see a change. She's pretty sure it doesn't come from the fact that she knows him that well, it's just – oh so obvious.
For a reason she pretends to ignore, that sight both warms her heart and makes it ache.
She's heard about her, of course – through Martha, who was kind enough to simpy carefully mention her when she asked about Clark, but didn't elaborate much, but also from, well, everyone. Since day one, Superman's story has been linked to the name of Lois Lane.
She had never seen her, though. Not before tonight.
The first thing that jumped to her eyes when they first entered the bar was her confidence. It wasn't cockiness, or self-satisfaction, far from it, but – she hoozed confidence. Assurance. It's a trait that transpired throuh her writing, she thought. So sure, so completely sure, even in her words. Of herself, of shat she believes in.
Of him.
In a lot of ways, Lois seems to be a lot like him. The articles she read clearly showed how sharp and blunt and in your face she was, but there was also a profound goodness there, a sense of fairness, a quest for justice. Some they that opposite attract, others that birds of a feather flock together, but in their case, it seemed that both sayings were valid.
And she's beautiful. She really is.
Long auburn hair framing her face, her crossed arms brush his on the table. She's answering to something Tom just said, and, as she rolls her eyes for drama effect, both men smile. It's another thing she's noticed, tonight.
He smiles a lot with her. Laughs a lot, too.
"Jeez! Sorry it took that long, but the bar is packed," Chloe suddenly re-emerges from the crowd, two beers in hands, startling her as she quickly yank her eyes away from them. Her friend frowns. "You okay?"
Forcing a smile, she nods. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Lana?"
Startled, she looks up from her purse and turns around.
Oh. As he realizes it's indeed her, a smile makes its way on his face and, despite her surprise, she can't help her own. "Hi."
"Hey," she answers, hoping he doesn't notice how slightly higher her voice is. Chuckling awkwardly for a couple of seconds, they stand there like two idiots before he leans in and hugs her, and Lana focuses very hard not to ler her heartbeat skyrocket.
She knows that he can hear that, too.
Breaking the embrace, he shakes his head, beaming at her.
"I didn't know you were here tonight," he admits, and a part of her can't help but think that once upon a time, he could always tell where she was. "It's been – forever."
"Yeah, Eddy would have killed me if I hadn't shown. And I saw you, but you were busy, so. I thought you left, actually," she frowns, eyeing the door behind him.
"I did, yes, but – left something behind," he explains, lifting his arm to show her the black and orange Indian scarf he's holding. Pursing her lips, she nodds seriously.
"Well, it would have been a shame: orange is such a good colour for you." Playing along, he sighs.
"I know – It would have broken my heart." Chuckling with her, Clark nods towards the road. "Can I walk you back to your car?"
"Yeah, sure," she smiles. Clark Joseph Kent – still the perfect gentleman.
Both digging their hands in their jackets, they start walking side by side.
"So: how is Europe? My mom told me you moved over there a couple of years ago."
"Three, actually. And it was fine – good even. But I'm not going back, though."
He looks at her, a little surprised.
"Really? Why?" She shrugs.
"I don't know...Homesick, maybe? It feels like the time to come home, I guess. Plus, I just broke up with someone, so it's not like there's anything tying me up back there."
"I'm sorry," he says, and she knows that he really is.
"Thanks. It's fine, though – It wasn't a big love thing or anything, so. And hey, now I'm back!" she cheers, and he chuckles.
"I'm sure your parents are over the moon," he tells her knowingly, well aware of their over protective and over loving side. She rolls her eyes to confirm, and he chuckles again.
She takes the opportunity to glance at him, his perfectly defined strong jaw lightened by the lamps on the sidewalks. She makes herself look away when he speaks again. "Are you planning on moving back to Smallville?"
"I don't think so. I don't think there's much for me here. Literally, actually: there's not exactly a lot of marketing agencies that can get me a job in the area, from what I hear."
"I'm sure the iHop would love to employ you in their marketing team or something," he smiles as their eyes meet. "If you don't want to go too far from home, Metropolis is good. It's dynamic, it's a good place to live. There's marketing agencies," he raises his eyebrows at her. "And I can give you the adress of the best Italian restaurant in the world."
"Well, if you put it like that," she beams, feigning awe.
They take a few more steps before she speaks again, a little more serious this time despite the smirk she gives him. "I hear their hero is kinda cool, too." He smiles back, and although it's a little shy, it's genuine.
He's finally embraced who he is, and is at peace with it.
"I don't know about that, but - I hear he's doing good, yeah.""
"Isn't it hard, sometimes?", she dares to ask, because she wants to know. Superman never lets it show – no matter how bad the situation, no matter how hard, how horrific, how heartbreaking, he's always reassuring, always standing up to help, never weavering.
Always the hero they need him to be.
But she knows that he's not unaffected by all of this. Nobody could be, least of all him.
Eyes on the ground before his feet, he shrugs, then speaks again. "It can be. But there's also the bright sides, you know? The people that do get to live. The ones that get to keep their family. And it's not easy, even with that, but -"
He thinks for a few seconds, then says simply. "I'm not alone."
And he's not. His whole life, he had been, had felt completely lost and lonely and alone, so alone, and now he doesn't have to and God, how she's grateful. Now, he has a whole city behind him – a whole world. He has friends among the elected and among the people, he has superheros friends that have his back.
He has a family, and even if the thought always makes her heart ache sometimes, she's happy because she knows that he's finally found where he belongs. His home.
"She looks really great. I mean, from what I read and heard and saw from afar – she sounds amazing." Clark looks at her, careful, and she smiles to let him know it's okay. "And she has very nice taste in scarf," she jokes as she points towards the piece of fabric still in his hand. He chuckles, a little relaxed.
"She does. And she is," he confirms as they arrive to her car. They both silently agree to lean on the fence boarding the corn field she's parked next to. "She doesn't have any interest in football," he says with a sad expression, and she makes an overly shocked face.
They both loved it so much growing up, their parents actually started making secret plans to engage their interest in anything else, at one point. "But she's – I don't think I would be able to do it without her."
Lana knows he's not telling her all the ways she's perfect to him, all the ways he loves her because he cares about not hurting her own feelings, and yet, it's that simple sentence that stings the most, somehow. She doesn't want it to. And with time, maybe it will pass.
Despite all that, she's still happy for him.
"Then I'm glad you found her. Or that she's found you, from what I understood," and he chuckles. "And very late congratulations, by the way: it's a pretty handsome kid you two made." She watches as his face lights up in the night.
"Did my mother show you pictures of him for half and hour?," he winces, but there's more pride than embarassment in her tone. "Because she tends to do that." Lana chuckles.
"No, I just saw them from afar at the fair this afternoon. I didn't get a chance to go say hi, but yeah – she definitely was showing off, proud grandma style," and he rolls his eyes, amused. "Come on, let her brag. He is really cute, after all."
"He is. Runs far too much for a two year-old, if you ask me, but - he's great."
"What's his name?" He looks at her, smiles.
"Jon – Jonathan," and she smiles, too. "Her idea, actually."
"Does he know? That his dad wears tights, I mean," and throwing his head back, he laughs.
"He doesn't, no. He's too young to even properly understand what's happening, anyway. We don't know when or how to tell him, to be honest - although if he's anything like his mom, and he is, he'll figure it out by himself, anyway."
She chuckles, and then she keeps on laughing, shaking her head in disbelief. "What?" he enquires, amused.
"Nothing, it's just – I can't believe you're a dad," she smiles, head turning to meet his blue eyes. To this day, she still hasn't seen more deep and intense ones.
When she speaks again, her voice is a little softer. "I can't believe you've become Superman. Slash reporter Kent, of course", she adds with a chuckle. Eyes not leaving hers, his smile is gentle, and, just like before, just like he always have, she thinks he knows exactly what she thinks, what she feels.
What she's not saying.
"I know. Still feel a bit surreal, sometimes."
"I believe you. But I'm really glad you're okay, Clark."
They smile at each other for a few seconds, after so many years, she lost track, and, as they stand there in the moonlight, Lana is grateful she at least got to see him again. Got to speak to him again.
Dropping her gaze before she gets too emotional, she frowns, then looks back up at him, arms crossed against her chest.
"So, about the Batman thing: is it like, Matt Damon or something? Or Ben Affleck? Because I really think it's one of them, but if it isn't, I have so many theories."
He laughs out loud.
