she's surprised that he hasn't rushed off after the first two bites of the main course. it's a real date this time; the kind that she tells him would require an extra hour for her to do her hair and make-up and freak out about what dress she would wear or if she had anything that would complement her figure. they're in a place where they can't pronounce anything on the menu and she spends the first few minutes making him laugh at her linguistic failures -- then he joins in and it's her turn to laugh and it's a sound that steals the breath from his lungs.
she's wearing a lovely dress in a shade of ocean blue with her hair styled in soft waves around her face and sweeping past her shoulders. he's wearing his best shirt and that silk tie she'd gotten him for his birthday -- that he never felt like wearing until now (she notices, smiles, but refrains from making any running commentary tonight).
"you are scraping the bottom of the barrel, smallville," lois says matter-of-factly as she picks at her ravioli with her fork. "i was going to set my watch to how long it would take for you to leave again."
clark opens his mouth to formulate a reply, but he is caught between guilt at flaking off one too many opportunities like this and the subtle play of shadows and candlelight on her skin. beauty herself is right in front of him and in mere seconds, he is that eager young heart in her hands; racing, pounding and waiting to be broken but her eyes tell him that she could never do such a thing to him.
you did it to me first.
he orders dessert for her; chocolate mousse because she deserves nothing but the best. he's so focused on the way her fingers grip the dessert fork, the soft sounds of contentment she makes with each bite.
clark kent has lost count of how many times he has fallen in love with lois lane by now.
she looks very amused at his lack of witty banter and immediately says that she must have picked the right dress for her cute and dorky farmboy to be thoroughly speechless with her, of all people.
"i don't think there are enough words to describe how beautiful you are..."
her gaze lowers as he pays the bill and they leave the restaurant in silence. hands and fingers are twined so perfectly together that clark can't tell anymore which hand is his and which is hers.
he thinks that somewhere between the restaurant and the street corner leading to her apartment he might have blurted out that he loved her, but she has dulled his senses and made him so acutely aware of her and out of focus with himself.
it ends on the couch with a movie and coffee that lois calls 'the lane special', her hand in his, his lips pressed against hers. and clark realizes in some corner of his mind that this is what real flying feels like.