In Arms of Red and Blue
By katemary77
Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for.
Days later, Clark could not get the sweet, tangy taste of Margaret's cupcake out of his mouth. He had tried everything; water, tea, coffee, coke, he had eaten in five different restaurants in five different countries, but he couldn't get her sweetness out of his mouth.
"Clark, is something wrong?"
Clark jumped. Lois, leaning against the division between their offices with a quizzical brow, laughed.
"No, no, I'm fine," he assured her. "Why?"
"That's the fifth pack of mints you've gone through today," she commented.
Shrugging, Clark replied, "I just have a funny taste in my mouth, that's all."
Lois nodded and sunk back behind the divide.
"I need a cupcake," Clark growled low under his breath.
"What, Clark?" Lois asked, standing and giving him a penetrating glare.
"Nothing, Lois," he assured her. "I think I'm going to take my lunch break. Is that okay?"
Five minutes later, Clark Kent was out of the building and in the air.
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"If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever."
Margaret sighed and carefully placed her well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed beside her. She loved this book, always had, and Darcy's final proposal always made her cry. Sniffling into a tissue, Margaret took a moment to laugh at herself. How silly, a fully-grown woman snivelling over the soppy end to the romance she had read at least seventeen times.
"Margaret, you sad, sad woman," she grumbled. Every time was the same, she would finish and dream that one day a handsome, noble man like Mr. Darcy would find her and sweep her off her feet and they would live happily ever after. "Well," she supposed, "Better than dreaming about a man who wears tights…"
Since her encounter with Superman, Margaret had found it difficult to think of anything else. Joining the ranks of women who viewed the Kryptonian saviour as the ultimate heartthrob, she had spent the last two days revisiting every moment of their short time together; the way his strong hands had felt around her waist, the exhilaration of flying, safe so close to his body, and the way his thumb had lingered over her lips as he had said goodbye. She wondered – and was quite embarrassed to admit it, even to herself – if she would ever see him again.
A crash from her kitchen startled Margaret from her daydreams. Fluidly, she slid from her comfortable bed and firmly grasped the baseball bat she kept in her closet. Creeping as quietly as she could, Margaret slunk through her hallway and into the kitchen, lifting the bat and bringing it down as hard as she could on her intruder before she'd taken a good look at him.
The bat splintered into a million pieces in her hand, and Margaret lifted her eyes to find a tall, blue and red clothed man smirking amusedly at her, not a hair out of place.
"Superman!" she cried, finally, suffering perhaps from a mild case of shock. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were a thief! Are you okay?"
He nodded silently, brushing pieces of wood from his tight suit.
Margaret quirked an eyebrow. "Superman," she began, "Are you… are you stealing my cupcakes?"
Margaret was astonished (and quite pleased) to find that Superman could get flustered.
"I wasn't… well, I was… I mean, I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth and I tried everything… goodness, I even ate some wasabi in Japan, to get the taste out but nothing would work and…" He levelled an even look at Margaret, who was trying very valiantly not to laugh. He scowled. "Yes, Margaret, I was stealing your cupcakes. Do you mind?"
She burst into laughter. "Would you like a glass of milk, too?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Okay. Thank you."
"For what?" she asked. "Not pressing charges? Imagine the headlines, 'Superman Goes Bad: Caught Stealing Cupcakes From Defenceless Woman's Kitchen.' The people at the Daily Planet would have a field day."
Superman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I wouldn't say you were defenceless," he joked, with a pointed look at her splintered baseball bat.
She laughed. "Yeah, fat lot of good it did. You really are made of steal aren't you?"
He shrugged a little and munched on his cupcake. When he was finished, Margaret stood and rinsed the plates and glasses in the sink.
"Thank you," he said again in his clear baritone. Turning away from the sink, Margaret gasped. He had stood and approached slowly until he was close behind her. Even with her 5'10", she still had to tilt her head back to view him properly. "Would you like to go flying?" Superman asked. At her silence, he continued. "It's the least I can do, after sneaking into your kitchen to steal baked goods."
She laughed and nodded. "I would like that."
"Someone might see us," he cautioned. "The media… is always taking photos of me."
Margaret shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"Okay." Gently, he guided her to the window. "Are you sure?" His lips twisted into a smirk. "You're not scared, are you?"
Margaret grinned. "Never."
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Clark was trying desperately hard to not think of how nice it felt to hold a woman in his arms, without the weight of forgotten goodbyes and broken promises. With Margaret, standing in the air above the world, everything seemed simple. Her eyes glistened with awe as she took in the magnificent sight of Metropolis from the amazing height that Clark had taken her to.
"This is amazing," she whispered, but Clark heard her as clear as day. "If I could do this, if I could fly," she looked at him in wonder, "I would never leave the air."
Clark frowned. "I wish I didn't have to, you know," he told her. "But, unfortunately, even Superman has to make a living."
Margaret leaned back to look at him properly, and Clark took a moment to be amazed at how comfortable she was in the air with him. "You mean you have a job?" she asked incredulously. "Superman has a job?"
Clark shrugged. "Before I'm this," he said, trying to articulate himself clearly, "Before I'm Superman, I'm just a man."
Her brow furrowed and Margaret freed a hand to smooth down his wayward hair. "Just a man," she said quietly, almost under her breath, as she turned back toward the view of Metropolis. "I think people forget that."
Clark let out a low breath. This woman seemed to understand him better than most. "Yes, I think they do."
"But, if you're just a man," she mused, turning to look at him again, "Well, that must be very hard."
Clark thought of Jason, how he could never truly be a father, and of Lois, how she could never truly love him and agreed silently with Margaret. Yes, it was very hard.
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"Clark! Where've you been?" Before he could form a reply, Perry White was already continuing over the top of him, dragging Lois, Jimmy and Clark into the boardroom. "Never mind that, I have work for you! Jimmy finally managed to take a good photo of Superman – " Clark shot a furtive glance at Jimmy, who shrugged helplessly – "And I want you and Lois investigating it immediately."
"Of course, Mr. White, what's the photograph of?" Clark enquired, his stomach sinking at the thrilled expression creeping onto his boss's face.
Perry slapped a glossy photo down onto the desk and announced gleefully, "Superman: A New Woman?"
Clark and Lois bent over and examined the image: Superman was floating amongst the tallest skyscrapers of Metropolis, a young woman with frizzy blonde hair wrapped in his strong embrace. Clark sighed and Lois let out a high-pitched gasp.
"Who is she?" the fierce reported demanded, and Clark raised his eyebrows. Was Lois jealous?
Perry shrugged. "We don't know yet and you two are going to find out. We know that Superman saved a young woman whose description fits this girl a couple of days ago on Olivier Street. I want you to go there now to find out what you can."
Clark and Lois nodded. "Sure, Mr. White, we'll get right on it."
Clark saw Lois roll her eyes derisively at his Southern politeness, before she raced from the room.
"Lois, wait!" Clark called, hurrying to catch up to her.
"What, Clark?" she said shortly.
Clark was taken aback for a moment; she had always been short with him, but somehow it stung more this time.
"Nothing," he sighed. "I'll meet you at the elevators in a few minutes." She nodded curtly and stalked into her husband's office. "By the way, Lois," Clark muttered under his breath, "I'm Superman!"
Twenty minutes later, Clark was hurrying to catch up with Lois as she marched purposefully down Olivier St.
"I'm going to question the owners of that shop," she told him, pointing to a corner shop down the street. "You stay here and… keep a look out."
Clark sighed and, momentarily distracted by his slipping sunglasses, walked into a fire hydrant.
"Damn it!" he cursed, as his glasses slipped from his face onto the pavement below, where they cracked miserably into pieces. Lois threw him an exasperated look over her shoulder and continued down to the shop. Bending, Clark began to collect the pieces of his specs.
"Are you okay?" a soft voice asked, and Clark turned to see Margaret standing behind him, her hair still windswept from their trip into the stratosphere.
"Yes," he answered finally, allowing her to guide him gently to a nearby stoop.
"Here, sit down," she told him firmly. "Don't worry, I'm a doctor – well, almost a doctor." She grinned. "So I won't hurt you. Can you see anything?"
Clark laughed and shrugged. "A little. I have a spare pair in my briefcase, though." Pretending to fumble blindly, Clark opened his briefcase and pulled out his spare pair of specs, pushing them carefully onto his face. "There, that's better." He turned to her and smiled.
She returned the grin. "This mustn't be the first time you've broken them; if you keep a spare in your case."
Clark nodded. "I'm a clumsy guy."
"Is your leg okay?" Margaret asked next. "You gave it a pretty hard whack."
"I'll live," he reassured her. "Thank you very much, by the way. Not everyone would've stopped."
"Well, as I said, I'm almost a doctor. Helping people is my living," she joked.
So is mine, Clark thought wryly. Speaking of which…
"Look, this is going to sound weird," Clark began, "But I'm a journalist for the Daily Planet and my partner and I are here investigating a woman recently seen with Superman." Clark noticed the change in her demeanour immediately and held up a hand to quell her response. "Somehow I don't think you're the type of person who gossips about her friends, so if you can get out of here quickly, I'll tell my partner you were unavailable… or something."
Margaret looked at him a moment before nodding. "That's very good of you. Thank you."
Clark shrugged. "Just returning a favour. Thanks again for helping me out."
"No worries," she smiled, alighting the porch and starting on her way. "Goodbye."
She had walked two metres before Clark called out. "Wait, Mar – Miss," he said, stopping himself just in time. She turned and gazed at him, a question in her eyes and mouth. Clark descended the stairs toward her. In a moment he thought of Lois' shortness, saw her disappearing into Richard's office, and remembered the feeling of Margaret under his hands. "Would you – would you like to have a cup of coffee sometime? This evening, maybe?"
Margaret grinned. "Okay, Mr..."
"Oh! I'm Clark, Clark Kent," he told her, extending his hand.
"Margaret Moreton," she told him, giving his hand a firm shake. "Do you know the coffee house on the corner of Coulson and Boylson?" she questioned.
Clark nodded, "Yeah, I know it."
"I'll see you there… say 5:30?"
He nodded again, beginning to back away from her toward the corner shop, where Lois would be waiting. "Okay, Margaret. I'll see you there. 5:30."
"Careful!" Margaret laughed when he walked into a dustbin. "I'll see you later."
Clark nodded and she turned, walking away down the street. He watched her until not even his super-vision could see her anymore.
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Margaret closed the door behind her and sighed softly, untwining the long, silky scarf from around her neck. She had just been on what was perhaps the best date of her life. She had met young, strapping Clark Kent for coffee and they had talked for hours over countless lattes and cappuccinos, about their lives back at home, about school, art, politics, travel everything they could think of. Afterwards they had walked through Metropolis Park and when Clark had shyly put his arm over Margaret's shoulders, she had never felt safer, even in arms of red and blue. When she had yawned tiredly, Clark had apologised profusely for keeping her late and – ever the gentlemen – had walked her to her apartment door.
"Thank you, Clark," she had said softly. "I had a wonderful time."
"So did I." Clark had leant forward and she had tilted her face, half-expecting a goodnight kiss, but he had only smiled, brushed his thumb against her lips, and disappeared down the stairwell.
Margaret sighed again and moved into the kitchen, where she stopped suddenly, before letting out a startled peal of laughter. The window was open, her flimsy curtain swaying in a breeze. Propped against the window was a baseball bat, a note attached – "For next time." And the cupcake she had placed upon the sill was gone.
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