Author's Notes: This particular story takes place in the aftermath of "the reveal" (when Lois finds out about Clark's alter-ego). Set sometime in the Superman Returns future, the staff of the Planet gets front row seats to the Lois vs. Clark tug-of-war. This fic was written for the "Clois 100" challenge at the 12days of clois livejournal community. It is a subtle interpretation of the word "Dance" with a few blatant references thrown in. No tango, no ballroom, no musical numbers (although, that might be fun to write). My muse has been singing somethin' FIERCE with this - I've never had a plot-bunny quite this active before. Much fun! I also owe a LOT more than virtual hugs to my beta, LosingInTranslation. She kicked me out of my slump with this, helped me clean up some scenes that were being buggers to fix, and told me "STOP!!" when I was in danger of getting really cheesy. In other words, she saved me. Thank you, Super-Beta:D
Spoilers: None. Since Lois never learns Superman's real identity during "Superman Returns," this story doesn't spoil anything. This is only a story set in the possible future of that timeline. It also references a scene from Superman II that can be spoiler-ish if you've made it a point to never ever watch that movie. But since it's been available to the public for nearly 30 years, I'm going assume that if you're in this particular forum, you've seen it.
Disclaimer: With the exception of some DVDs, comics, two books, and an action figure, I do not own or officially have anything to do with Superman, DC Comics, and/or Warner Bros. I just write because that universe thoroughly entertains me. :)
It was the day that he'd always hoped would come. It was also the day he'd dreaded for just as long. He knew that it wouldn't be easy, but it was also the one day that ever made him wish that he had actually grown up in his birthplace. Things would have been much different there, and maybe the insane rollercoaster ride that was any form of human relationship would have been figured out, mapped, and come complete with an instruction booklet. But, of course, he was here, and none of that was a possibility.
Jimmy Olsen had ended up becoming target practice for one very pissed off Lois Lane. And on that fateful, painful day, Lois stormed through the bull-pen, the sound of her heels pounding into the carpeted floor, her loose hair bouncing to the rhythm of her stride. Everyone nearby watched without really watching, while they attempted to continue conversations, and went about their tasks in the hopes of going unnoticed. And any who might otherwise have been in her way, quickly exited the path that led from the doors to her desk.
Clark followed her through the glass doors several seconds later, looking chagrined, and tried to keep his pace at an unhurried walk, rather than keep up with her. Foot traffic through the center aisle was already resuming in Lois' wake, but he heard someone off toward the windows mutter "Now what'd he do?" as the door swung shut behind him. It wasn't news to anyone that Clark would frequently get on her nerves, but he was pretty sure that this was as angry as she'd ever been, even if no one else did.
Unfortunately for Jimmy, he was completely unaware of Lois' entrance, and was absorbed in sorting through his latest stack of photographs while listening to music. Clark could see the impending disaster that was about to happen, when he noticed that Jimmy's file cabinet drawer stuck out just a little too far into the aisle. Thankfully, his camera wasn't sitting on top of it this time, as was Jimmy's normal habit.
Just as she stampeded past him, Lois tripped over the exposed corner. Clark cringed as the furious reporter somehow managed not to fall, and then spun, smacking Jimmy across the top of his head. Hard.
"MOVE THIS!" she yelled, and kicked the cabinet.
Startled, Jimmy spun in his chair, scattering a stack of photos through the arc of his turn. In the half second that it took for him to recognize the fury glaring at him, his mouth hung open in shock, and the usually-low volume of the desktop speakers suddenly seemed very loud.
"Um… uh, okay," he finally stammered, reaching up to rub his head.
"And, TURN THAT OFF! God, Olsen! Start paying attention!" Lois roared.
Jimmy didn't even bother to answer. His entire being jumped as he grabbed for the mouse, spilling the rest of the photographs onto the floor. His hand shook as he paused the player on his screen, but thankfully, and to the relief of the news-staff around him, Lois had already resumed her march back to her desk. He was probably going to need a minute or two to recover from the explosion.
"Wow. Who knew she hated that song so much?" Clark heard him mumble to himself, as he made his way over. "I didn't even know she could hear it. I could hardly hear it."
"Which song?"
Startled again, Jimmy looked up to see Clark towering over his desk. "Oh, ah, umm… that "Dance" song by Garth Brooks," he explained, as the terror in his face cleared. "I honestly didn't think anyone could even hear my stuff playing."
Clark glanced in Lois' direction before he bent to start picking up the scattered photos. "I don't think she could," he answered. "But she knows you listen to m-music, and…" he sighed as he handed Jimmy a small stack. "I think she's feeling a little out of control right now."
"Why?" Jimmy pressed. No one knew Lois like Clark, except for Richard. But Richard was no longer in the picture, even if he was still in the office.
"I don't—" Clark started, then bit back his words. "I think you'll need to ask Lois."
Jimmy looked in Lois' direction, or rather, the direction of her desk. He could really only see the top of her head from where he was. "Right. Well, so long as no one dies from being around her today, I'm just as happy not knowing."
Clark offered a half-hearted chuckle before he stood, pushing his glasses up. "Sorry," he muttered, meaning more than just sympathy.
"Good luck, man," Jimmy offered, as he turned back to his photos.
"Thanks," Clark answered, as he turned back toward his own desk. "I'm gonna need it."
- - - - - -
Loueen played with the wheel of her lighter as she rode the elevator to the roof. It had been one of those days in the office, and Lois' entrance just a few hours before had set everyone on edge, including Perry White. Loueen had already received several e-mails from her boss rearranging the various schedules of his reporters due to one crisis or another, but Lois' rampage had just about done the editor in. Of course, she was the one who got yelled at to hold all of Perry's calls, and she was also the one who shared a wall with the Editor in Chief, meaning she had heard every obscenity and insult that he and Lois had thrown at each other over the years. But this was different, and woman's intuition told her that this wasn't Lois' fault, so she'd invited the reporter up to the roof for a quick smoke-break.
She never expected it to be quite that bad. Not that Lois ever had very much to say anyway. It was the scream she heard through the elevator doors as the car slowed to a stop that made her realize the full extent of the mess. Lois had a temper, sure, but she'd never seen her out of control. But right about then she was just hoping that she wouldn't need an emergency crew in order to make it out alive.
Loueen began to dig in her purse for her cell phone just before the doors opened. Depending on the scene that greeted her, she wanted to have it at the ready just in case, and as the doors slid open, she felt herself holding her breath… only to find Lois standing on the rooftop with her hands clenched in her hair. Loueen stepped out and looked around.
"Lois?" she half-called over the wind. Lois turned, let go of her hair, and immediately began walking forward in her stocking feet. "Are you okay? Where are your shoes, honey?" she asked as she took in Lois' tear-stained face and disheveled appearance.
"Over there," Lois gestured vaguely, followed by a sniff. "Can I break this?" the woman reached towards Loueen's coffee mug with a desperation she knew all too well. "I'll get you another one."
Loueen stared at Lois, looked down at the mug, and then shrugged. "Sure, I guess," she answered, retrieving the cigarette pack that had been nestled inside.
Palming the mug, Lois stalked over towards one corner of the roof. Loueen watched as she wound up like a Major League pitcher, and hurled the mug into the concrete. It shattered into a thousand ceramic pieces… and Lois just stood there.
Cautiously, the Editor-in-Chief's assistant made her way over to her co-worker's side, nodding to herself in understanding. Wordlessly, she opened the cigarette pack, offered one to Lois before taking one for herself, and then offered the lighter.
"Men are idiots," she murmured around her cigarette.
"ALL men are idiots, no matter what… no matter what." Lois insisted, before handing back the lighter and exhaling. "Thanks," she waved the burning cigarette for emphasis, as she wiped a stray tear with the other hand.
"Anytime, honey," Loueen answered. "Anytime." She let the silence linger for a few minutes, while they both let the nicotine begin to course through their veins. "Anything you want to talk about?" she finally offered.
Lois was quiet for a moment, finishing the cigarette. "Only this," she answered. "Why do they always, and not just sometimes, I mean always, think they know what's best for us?"
Loueen laughed and rolled her eyes. "Who in the name of Sam Hill knows!? I sure don't. Maybe it goes back to when we were all still living in caves, and they had the big sticks."
Lois cocked her head to the side, and then burst out laughing.
- - - - - -
It went on for several days, and then stretched into a week that felt like eternity. Clark couldn't remember a time when everything he did felt like pure drudgery, so this was definitely a first. Not even pining over Lana during high school had ever made him feel quite so… stagnant. But waiting for Lois to come around, after he'd finally gotten the courage to tell her everything was beginning to feel never-ending.
He and Lois had been avoiding each other ever since he'd told her. Well, she'd been avoiding him, anyway. At first, he'd tried to approach her just as himself, no pretenses or goofy Clark mishaps. But she'd always skittered away like a repelled magnet, finding someplace else to be, or making a phone call, dodging into the ladies room, or even grabbing someone nearby like they were the most important person in the world at that instant. He had gotten the hint quickly enough, and decided to just give her some space. He'd put himself out on the line, finally, and now it was up to her to either accept or reject him – the whole him – for everything she knew he was. But, damn, if it wasn't getting on his nerves.
Two weeks into the misery found Clark gazing out one of the Planet windows at a dreary overcast day. The day suited his mood, since the previous sunny days seemed like they'd been mocking him. The sun, his power source, and the one physical object that could make him feel truly alive and whole – aside from the fiery star disguised as a brunette – had done everything but fill the void inside him. And that void felt like a cold, hard rock sitting at the bottom of his stomach. So, the clouds blanketing the Metropolis sky gave him a sort of grim satisfaction.
Out of the corner of his eye, and the ever-present attunement to her heartbeat, Clark knew that Lois was still angry. Her fury had died down a bit over the last day or two, but she was still pounding her keyboard while she typed, yelling at the interns, and stomping through the newsroom every time she went somewhere. The office murmurs had evolved from snorted comments about PMS to speculation that included everyone from himself and Richard, to being snubbed by Bruce Wayne in Gotham for an exclusive interview. That particular rumor had made Clark's eyes roll, especially since Lois wasn't working on anything even remotely related to Bruce or his company. Pure speculation ruled the gossip network.
Growling softly to himself, Clark stood and started toward the Planet's morgue. It was two floors down, which meant taking the stairs, and of course, having to walk toward Lois' desk for a few seconds. Just the act of doing so annoyed him today, but a quick glance confirmed her absence. She'd been out pounding the pavement for information lately, and apparently still was. But as he headed toward the large glass doors of the bullpen, he heard her heartbeat coming up. Good lord, she was in the elevator… which meant he'd inevitably run into her. Sure enough, just as the doors opened and she stepped out, he pushed through the glassed entrance.
The momentum of their movement brought the two of them face-to-face, with barely a few feet between them. Clark found himself gazing down at her impassively, almost coldly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Lois simply glared.
"Excuse me," she finally bit.
"Sure," Clark grumbled in return, and went to step out of her path.
At the exact moment, Lois moved in the same direction. Clark corrected and went in the other direction, just as she did the same. For a brief moment, the two of them shuffled back and forth in an awkward dance before Lois finally reached out and grabbed his arms. Her touch sent a jolt through him, and he froze. But the touch of her hand on his left arm turned into a push, and he found his body automatically reacting as he stepped to his right.
"Move!" she commanded.
Clark's other foot followed the push, and swung him out of her path. Satisfied, Lois let out an exasperated huff and rolled her eyes as she resumed course, and shoved through the doors. Clark, having turned to face her, watched as she stormed down the middle of the room, mumbling obscenities to herself that she knew he could hear, and once again igniting whispers among the gossip crowd. This time, he heard his name since several people noticed him outside the doors.
Finally, after shooting a glare through the doors at the receptionists, who had all been staring and whispering, and who gaped in surprise, he turned and headed toward the stairwell. If Luthor or any of the other megalomaniacal idiots decide to try anything today, so help them, he thought, darkly.
- - - - - -
"Three weeks," Lois growled. "Three fuckin' weeks, and I still… I still just want to hurt him!" she exclaimed, flicking her cigarette butt over the rooftop edge.
Loueen nodded in understanding, puffing on her own cigarette. She'd been listening to Lois rant for those three weeks – ever since the woman had destroyed her coffee mug. Lois never admitted who the guy was, but Loueen was absolutely positive that she was raving about Superman.
The hero had been making himself scarce around the press these past few weeks, even though he was still around doing his thing. And, of course, Lois had been through numerous shouting matches with Perry about bringing in more Superman exclusives. And, these days, she was winning those matches. Only a few scant pieces about the man of steel had run in the Daily Planet lately, and none of them had been written under the Lois Lane byline.
Loueen took the last drag from her cigarette, and inhaled deeply before saying what she hoped would be the right thing. Lois had a reputation, after all.
"Maybe it's time to talk to him."
Lois was rigid against the wall, looking out over the city. But after a moment, Loueen saw her shoulders drop and heard her sigh.
"Maybe so," Lois conceded. "I'm tired of this. Tired of the tension, tired of dodging… tired of being… angry."
Loueen leaned on the roof edge next to her. "Lois, what happened? In the three weeks that you've been raging with this, you've never once said anything to anyone about why you're feeling this way."
Lois dropped her head. "Y'know, I'd love to tell you. But it's intensely personal, and… I was trusted. And I'm not about to break that trust, no matter how much it pisses me off."
"Wow," Loueen murmured, after a few moments. "He must be quite a guy."
Lois huffed, still looking down at her arms on the edge, and then looked at Loueen with a grim smile on her face. But, Loueen noticed, something had changed in her eyes.
"Yeah, he is," Lois replied.
Several floors down, sitting at his desk, Clark felt the cold void in his stomach begin to warm.
- - - - - -
Another week passed, and Lois was slowly beginning to thaw towards Clark. She still danced around and out of his presence, but it was no longer with the cold "get away from me" vibe that he'd gotten previously. In fact, during a chance meeting on the roof, when he had been up there soaking in the rays on a particularly rough news day, she had even said that she wasn't ready to be around him just yet. It was hardly a relief that she'd said so, but he knew it was progress.
So, he waited.
And it finally happened.
Five weeks to the day from when he told her his secrets, he finally heard the whisper that gave him the tiniest glimmer of hope, and made his stomach feel like he was on that rollercoaster again.
"Clark," she started, from across the room at her own desk. "I know you're listening to me, so let's talk." Clark looked over to see her bent over her notebook, tapping her lips with her pen. "I'm still angry with you, but I know we need to discuss this." He watched her lips move, forming each word, transfixed by their profiled shape. "Ten o'clock, tonight, on the roof. You. Just you. Clark Kent. Not… the other you." Then she looked up, straight into his eyes, her mismatched pair boring into his own.
A shock ran through Clark's body at the intensity of her gaze. Something… something was different from the past several weeks. He couldn't tell what, only that it was… different. He nodded once, and swallowed, noticing that his mouth was suddenly very dry. Glancing at the clock, he read the numbers with an inward groan. Two o'clock in the afternoon. Which meant eight hours. Eight hours before the talk. Eight hours to wonder, be nervous, speculate about the numerous possibilities. Eight hours.
Eternity.
Which was exactly how it felt. Two hours later, his articles were done, his research at a stand-still, and none of his sources were answering or returning his phone calls. Sometimes, the ability to get things done at his natural, albeit accelerated, pace was a pain. But slowing down aggravated him.
Later, as the hours crept into early evening, he was pretending to do research on the internet when several cries for help reached him. Clark felt an immediate surge of relief, followed almost instantly by guilt. It was never good for someone to be in trouble, no matter how bad his personal life seemed at the time. He shot Lois an e-mail about the general direction and area of the cries, and took off, tugging at his tie before the elevator doors were completely closed. He knew that Lois was close on his heels as the elevator started upward for the roof, but there wasn't time to spare. Instead of waiting, he launched himself through the access panel into the elevator shaft, like he'd done so many times before, and headed toward the incident.
It was eleven o'clock by the time he was able to return to the Planet, streaked with ash and soot, and his cape singed in several places. The high-rise apartment fire had given him plenty to do in the way of rescuing and assisting in clean-up efforts. He'd even stayed around to help the investigators locate the starting point. The fire had managed to consume three floors and part of a fourth before he and the fire crews had been able to get it under control. Luckily, and largely in part to the efforts of the people who'd lived there, no one had died, and there were only a few minor injuries to speak of. The past several hours had gone by dizzyingly fast, and he'd been unaware of the time until he realized that the press corps – and Lois – were long gone, with only the local residents remaining.
Clark lowered himself gently to the surface on the helipad side of the rooftop, intent on gathering his clothes from the top of the elevator, and cleaning himself up before trying to see if Lois was even still around. But he'd hardly taken a step before he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. He glanced around at the immediate area, but didn't see anyone. Finally, he focused his vision, and found Lois on the other side – the side where he'd first approached her as Superman after returning from his long absence. She was holding his clothes, neatly folded, with his glasses sitting on top. He felt his mouth and throat go dry again. Calmly focusing, and forcing himself not to run, fly, or break into super speed, Clark walked around the elevator shaft housing, and approached Lois.
He forced himself not to shake.
- - - - - -
Lois watched as he approached her from the corner, keeping his pace controlled. She could see the apprehension in his eyes, and knew that if his heart was pounding as hard as hers was, there was no way he would hear her own. She noted the condition of his uniform, and the soot streaking parts of his face, and felt her grip tighten on the clothes she held as he drew closer. She wanted to hold her breath, but willed herself to stay calm and steady on her feet. In the back of her mind, one thought raged as she forced herself not to tremble. Why does the sight of him in that damned suit do this to me, but when he's in his everyday clothes, I can ignore him, scold him and push him out of the way!?
And then he was there, in front of her, gazing into her eyes with all the nervousness and tension that she felt. We're both scared to death. The realization made a small part of her relax, knowing that the astonishing being in front of her was just as human in his emotions as anyone else. Gently, Lois held the clothes out to him.
"I thought you might want these," she offered, breaking the tense silence between them.
Sup—Clark! He is Clark! her mind protested.
He reached for the clothes without taking his eyes from hers. "Thanks," he replied quietly. "I'll be right back."
But before he could move, Lois placed her hand on top of the pile, covering his glasses. "Except these," she explained, her hand closing around the frames. "You don't need them."
A smile blossomed across his face, and he nodded. "Alright."
Lois clutched the glasses to her chest as she watched him walk back to the corner and disappear behind the wall. She mentally counted to five, her eyes never leaving that spot, and then caught herself before her face could betray her as he returned. He was cleaned up, dressed in his work clothes, and had damp hair. The curl, that rogue curl, was resting softly above his brow. Vaguely, Lois wondered exactly how much time it took him to smooth it down each day.
"S-sorry I'm—" he started, all nervousness returning.
But Lois cut him off before he could go further. "No, don't talk," she said, looking up at him. "It's my turn, now." She saw him swallow, and felt the frames press into her hand as her grip tightened around them. She drew a deep breath.
"I know it's been a long time since we last… talked," she started. "And I know it's been hard on both of us during the past several weeks. But…" She sighed, faltered for a split second, and then quickly pulled herself back together. "But I've needed the time to think through all of this. I've needed time to be angry about it, too, because… well, I've trusted you, both of… you… for a very long time. You had it immediately as Superman, and you earned it as Clark." Sparks of her anger began to flare again as she spoke, but she worked to keep them under control. "Deep down, I'm glad that you finally trusted me in return. But the fact that it took so damn long—!" Unwillingly, and against her wishes to remain strong in front of him, hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Angrily, she swiped them away, only to have more tears replace them. For a few moments, she silently wiped away the tears, but was unable to stop them as everything flooded back to her – all of the memories, all of their talks, flying with him, waiting five excruciating years for his return, remembering their intimate moments, somehow forgetting that he and Superman were one and the same… it was too much. It was all too much.
Finally, after losing the battle with her own emotions, she let the rage take over once more, and found herself throwing his glasses against the elevator housing, while letting out a furious shriek. Her whole body trembled as the emotions that she'd been holding back for so long finally boiled to the surface. Momentarily blinded to anything but her own fury, she launched herself at the man next to her, pounding his chest with her fists, and screaming all of the obscene curses she could think of. Looking back, she would also remember slapping him across the face several times as the torrential emotions ebbed and flowed through her.
And he took it. He took all of it, just standing there with his arms at his sides. She was barely aware of his emotions, displayed plainly on his features, and couldn't recall if he ever moved, although he must have, or else the bones in her own hands and feet would have been shattered several times over.
Gradually, slowly, Lois felt the rage leech out of her. Her tantrum slowed, and she found her hands staying at his chest, rather than bouncing back off for another blow. Once they had stilled, and she stood staring at the buttons holding his shirt together, she again wiped the tears from her cheeks, and forced herself to look up at him. What she found broke her heart all over again.
Clark was looking out above her toward the city's shoreline, but his gaze was turned inward, and his own tears were stealing down his face. Tentatively, Lois reached down and took hold of one of his hands. Her touch got his attention, and when he looked down at her, Lois recognized the deep pain in his eyes; pain that she had only seen one other time, before a kiss… a kiss that had…
"…I like worrying about you." The scene was hazy in her mind, but Lois felt it taking her attention for the moment. And she couldn't help it.
"Would you stop!? Don't you know that this is killing me!?" she had protested, knowing that he, Clark, was right behind her. Not regular, goofy, everyday Clark, either. But the real Clark. The one standing in front of her now. "Do you know what it's like to have you come in here every morning, and not be able to talk to you? Not be able to show that I have any feelings for you? Not be able to tell you that I know who you are?" Inwardly, Lois felt the pieces slide into place as the memory played out in her mind. "I don't even know what to call you!" she had exclaimed, fighting the urge to fall into his arms, and instead looking down as the tears continued to spill uncontrollably.
"Lois, I don't know what to say," he'd replied, touching her shoulder tenderly.
She had felt a small smile at his words, and gave a tiny shrug. "Then... just say that you love me." And with that she had turned to face him, and felt the smile disappear when she saw the pain in his eyes. The deepest pain she'd ever seen, and knew that it was reflecting her own. And gently… so gently… he had taken off his glasses and kissed her. Sweetly, tenderly, longingly… and sadly.
And she knew. Lois blinked away the haze and shook her head to clear her mind. She was staring at his shirt once more, the little white pearlized buttons, and knew she should be angry all over again. But the rage had already worn away, and she was left with the clarity of knowing that he had acted out of love, trying to ease and spare her pain. It had been a mistake, yes, but neither one of them had been ready to deal with their feelings yet. They had rushed into it, fallen into each other without thought, and acted on impulse without considering consequences. So he had somehow hidden the most important detail from her, even though she could recall most of the events that occurred while she knew. They had just always seemed hazy and disjointed. Memories that she'd always just shrugged off as seeming strange because of the highly stressful time they'd happened in. Except for one.
Lois felt his fingers move around her own, and she realized that she was still holding his hand. She squeezed his fingers gently in return, and stepped forward, slowly placing her head against his chest, just under his chin, and brought his hand around to the small of her back. Carefully, she allowed herself to wrap her arms around him, hoping that the action wouldn't cause either one of them to run away, something they had definitely perfected with each other.
For a few moments, Lois just stood there holding him, feeling his one arm wrapped around her, caressing her back. And then, when he seemed sure that she wouldn't pull away, she felt his other arm wrap around her shoulders, and a shuddering breath escape him. The caress was soon followed by the gentle pressure of a kiss on the top of her head.
"You remember?" he half whispered.
She nodded against him. "I do now."
He trembled slightly as his hold around her tightened a little more. "That was the hardest thing I've ever done."
"Besides leaving?" she wondered aloud.
He sighed. "More so. Sometimes I wonder if I left because of that. Because I couldn't face knowing you without you knowing me."
Lois stood silent for a few minutes, letting that thought soothe the hundreds of variations of "Why?" that had plagued her since he'd left. And she finally realized just how close both of them had come to losing each other because of their own stubborn pride. "I'm sorry, Clark," she murmured against his chest, reveling in the warmth surrounding her. "Tonight didn't exactly go the way I had planned." She paused, letting him absorb her apology. "But, this is where I wanted it to go."
"Don't be sorry," he answered. "I know I deserved all of that, and if not from a beating, then at least in a good lecture."
She smiled and pulled back from the embrace, letting her left hand rest on his arm. "Still, I'm not sure that throwing a fit like a two-year-old was the best way to get my point across." She glanced over toward the elevator, and saw the light from the globe reflect off the cracked lenses and broken frames on the ground. "It looks like I owe you some new glasses, too."
A small laugh escaped his lips, and they shared a quiet moment before Clark's expression turned solemn again. "Lois, can you forgive me?"
His eyes locked onto hers, and even though she'd hoped her embrace had told him the answer to his question, she could see that he needed to hear it. He needed to know without a doubt that she was able and willing to forgive his mistakes, even though she'd made so many of her own.
"Yes," she answered. "I forgive you." Clark's eyes lit up, and a smile began to grace his features. "But," she continued. "Only on one condition." He stopped short, and she felt a small and wicked wave of delight wash through her, knowing she had power over the most powerful man on the earth. But she pushed it aside and forced herself to be serious. "That condition being that you forgive me, and stop trying to decide what's best for me."
Clark raised an eyebrow at her. "That's two conditions," he answered, barely suppressing the smile that threatened at the corners of his mouth.
"Fine then, two," Lois huffed.
"Alright then. Yes," he smiled.
"Yes, what?" Lois teased, raising her own eyebrow right back at him.
"Yes, I forgive you, and I will do my best to stop deciding what's best for you."
"Wait, you'll do your best? That wasn't the deal," Lois mocked.
"You're right," he admitted. "But it's going to be a very hard habit to break. I've been trying to protect you for a long time. And now that desire is going to be even stronger. I know, I know," he stopped her before she could interrupt. "You're a grown woman, and you're Lois Lane. But I don't think you realize just how much of a target you really are. Especially with me in the picture."
"I could throw that right back at you," Lois grinned, shaking her head. Clark tilted his head, looking perplexed, so Lois sailed right into the comment, twisting it to her purposes. "You're Clark Kent, and you're Superman. But I don't think you realize just how much of a target you really are. Especially with me in the picture."
His head dropped, and she heard him chuckle before he looked back up at her. "I see your point," he agreed. "I guess if either of us wanted to fade into the background—"
"Then we wouldn't be here, now," she finished.
"But that won't make me stop wanting to protect you."
"Fine," she smiled. "So long as that and deciding what's best for me aren't one and the same."
"You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Lane," he chided gently.
She grinned up at him, and this time, he was the one who stepped forward to gather her into his arms.
For a few moments, the two of them stood wrapped in each other's embrace, enjoying the all-too-rare peace between them. Then Clark shifted, placed his hands on her shoulders, and moved them down her arms to her waist. Lois looked up to find him smiling down at her, and felt her curiosity pique.
"Lois," he started, his smile growing. "Will you dance with me?"
Lois felt her brow wrinkle in confusion. "Dance with you?"
He ran a hand down her hair and glanced skyward. "Please?"
Immediately, Lois felt a wave of giddy joy that reminded her of the first time she'd ever flown with him. Never breaking her gaze from his, she slipped off her shoes and stepped onto his own, like she'd done so many times before. "Yes," she whispered.
And gently, so gently, Clark bent forward, first touching her forehead with his, then her nose, and finally…
Lois felt her breath hold, and her heart begin to pound in her chest all over again, as the softness of his lips met hers, and she felt the warm, gentle strength of him pour into her soul, healing old wounds, and soothing painful memories. She deepened the kiss in return, willing the entirety of her emotions for him into their contact.
In the back of her mind, Lois felt cool breeze surround them, and Clark's arms softly tighten around her waist and shoulders. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt completely and perfectly safe.
When their kiss finally broke, and the two of them simply held each other, Lois glanced down to see the lights of what had to be Metropolis, New York and Gotham all merging together and sparkling below them. She felt herself gasp at the sight, even though she was familiar with the perspective. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
"Yes it is," Clark agreed. "And I can finally share it with you."
Lois chuckled against his chest. "You have before."
"No," he murmured. "Superman shared it with you before. He's an idea, a symbol. But now I get to share it with you."