Author's Note: Takes place in early season eight. No specific spoilers.
Sold!
"You have to help me."
"In a minute," Lois said, distractedly, chewing on the end of her pen as she went over their copy of their latest article.
"Lois," Clark hissed, and there was a note of desperation in his voice that made her look up at him.
Her partner had a hunted expression on his face that was becoming all too familiar these days, and when Lois looked past him, she saw another familiar sight. The new society column girls clustered together in a huddle near the water cooler, their high-pitched giggles at odds with the predatory gleam in their eyes as they stared at Clark.
Lois glared at Claire Whitmore, the head gossip-monger, a look that would have melted steel in a lesser person. To her credit, the other woman managed to hold her gaze for several seconds before she broke away, flouncing away with her cronies close behind.
"Those vultures will stoop to anything, won't they?" Lois remarked.
"Vultures," Clark echoed, his voice shaky. "That's a good name for them."
"Those women have really gotten you freaked out, haven't they, Smallville?" Lois asked, incredulously.
"I can't help it!" Clark protested, sinking down into his chair. "Every time I turn around, they're right there. It's like they're stalking me."
"That's because they are stalking you," Lois told him.
"That's not helping," Clark replied, dropping his head into his hands with a groan. A few moments later, he asked, "Are they still staring at me?"
"No, they took off," Lois reassured him, and Clark let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"I was beginning to feel like a rabbit being eyed by a hawk," he said, and Lois chuckled at the image.
"They were kind of eyeing you like you were a piece of meat," she said. "Not that I can really blame them," she muttered, earning a suspicious look from Clark.
"What'd you say?" he asked.
"Nothing," Lois said, quickly, trying to keep her tone innocent. "You want coffee?"
Without waiting for a reply, she bolted up out of her seat and headed for the coffeepot, cursing her big mouth the whole way.
'That was stupid, Lois,' she berated herself, as she poured herself a new cup of coffee. 'You don't need to go parading your feelings for Clark all over the bullpen. Not when you don't even know if he doesn't feel the same way.'
Of course, Lois realized that she could just ask Clark, straight out, how he felt, but she wasn't ready to take that step just yet. Even if it did make her feel like a coward for avoiding the issue.
She poured a new cup of coffee for Clark, lingering over putting cream and sugar in the dark liquid, to give herself time to compose herself. Then, unable to waste any other time stalling, she squared her shoulders and headed back to her desk. Plunking Clark's coffee down on his desk without a word, she sat back down at her desk and stared resolutely at her computer screen, even if she didn't take in anything on the screen.
For his part, Clark was watching her with a curious look on his face, slowly sipping his coffee. Lois forced herself to ignore his direct, unwavering gaze, trying not to fidget under the intense scrutiny. Finally, Clark opened his mouth to say something, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the arrival of Jeff Dublowsky, the Daily Planet's newest intern. Lois almost hugged the younger man out of relief.
"Did you get Mercer's memo that she sent out?" Jeff asked, without preamble, hovering near their desks.
"What memo?" Lois grumbled, opening up her e-mail program and clicking the first link that came up with Tess's name attached.
She read the e-mail, quickly, and then went back and read it a second time, slower. Then, she sat and stared at her computer in incredulous disbelief. Risking a look over at Clark, she saw the same stunned expression on his face.
"You have got to be kidding me," Lois finally said, shaking her head in disgust. "This has got to be some sort of joke."
"No joke," Tess spoke up from behind her, making Lois jump in surprise. Jeff took the opportunity to make his escape, bolting for the safety of his own desk, and Lois glared after him before spinning around to look at Tess.
"You can't be serious," she said, flatly, reading the e-mail for a third time, still unable to believe what she was seeing.
"The first annual Daily Planet Bachelor Auction," Clark read out loud, horror creeping into his voice at the words.
"Hope you have a tuxedo, Clark," Tess said, a smirk on her face.
"This is beyond sexist," Lois ranted, glaring at Tess.
"It's a way to raise money for the Daily Planet," Tess countered. "People don't read the newspaper any more, and we're struggling, financially. Sales are down, and this is a way to get them back up."
"Right," Lois said, sarcastically. "By parading all the men around like horses at an auction."
"Participation is mandatory," Tess said, speaking to Clark, ignoring the fury radiating off Lois. "Formal dress is required for everyone."
With that, she walked away, leaving the pair sitting shocked behind her. Looking across her desk at Clark, Lois saw him looking pale, almost nauseous.
"Maybe it won't be that bad," Lois said, trying to be reassuring.
"When she cornered me this morning, Claire Whitmore was making comments about how she couldn't wait for Friday, and about how she hoped she had enough money," Clark told her, morosely. "I'm doomed."
"You are not," Lois said, sharply. "I'll bid on you."
"You will?" Clark asked, a note of hope in his voice. "Really?"
"Yeah," Lois said, warming to the idea. "We'll go see a movie, or something. Everything will be fine, you'll see."