(Lois)
The night air is cool as we walk back to my apartment. Clark is silent beside me. It's a companionable silence. We've both got a lot on our minds. Trying to link the mayor to Intergang is proving to be brutal. We walk slowly, savoring the brisk air and the relative quiet of the streets. It feels so good to have him at my side, not as a bodyguard (though he has been that before), and not as a partner, but as a friend.
When did it happen? When did I, Lois Lane, independent career woman of the mid-nineties, grow so fond of the man at my side? When did I come to need him in my life?
Ever since Clark came to Metropolis, I've changed. Not that I mind, of course. But I just can't figure out when it happened. Or how, for that matter. A year ago, I was livid when Perry told me that I was being saddled with the hack from Nowheresville as my partner. I've never worked well with a partner before. I've always been too competitive. I've always been too focused on me - and only me - winning the Pulitzer for my writing. Having a partner always seemed to be more of a hassle than it was worth. And so, I despised Clark that first day, that first week, that first investigation. I despised him even as some small part of me acknowledged that he wasn't such a hack after all. He had damned good instincts, and he proved it over and over again as we worked to uncover just what was going on with The Messenger and Prometheus. Still, he took every abuse I could hurl at him. He maintained his dignity and grace even as he kept coming back for more of the same treatment. I'm ashamed to admit that I freely gave it back to him, liked it to some degree. But when did that turn into good natured banter between friends? When did I stop seeing him as a rival? When did I start seeing him as my professional other half?
I have to admit, it was like a glass of ice water poured over my ego every time Clark got the better of me. His constant teasing irked me at first only because I wanted - willed even - for everything about my new partner to get under my skin and rub me the wrong way. Looking back, I can't figure out why I bothered to put up a fight. Looking back, it's hard to even remember what it was like flying solo on every story. Looking back, it's hard to remember how absolutely lonely my life was before Clark showed up. Even after our investigation (and Superman) helped to save the Space Program, I still begrudged Clark our partnership. I felt threatened by him. He was every bit as good a reporter as I was. And then he forced my respect when he paid me back for stealing his story with that whole Godzilla prank. He doesn't know it, but I've kept that little doll on my dresser. It reminds me of how determined Clark can be and of the truly twisted sense of humor hiding behind that mild-mannered exterior. It reminds me that that I can't push him around. It makes me smile.
Still, partners at work was all well and good, especially when Perry decided to make us a permanent team. Secretly, I was kind of glad that Clark was going to stick around. Me, Lois Lane, glad to have a partner. Who would have ever guessed it? But then, somehow, we became friends. Somehow, ever since Clark arrived, he managed to slip through every last defensive wall that I'd carefully constructed around myself over the years. Somehow, he found little chinks and cracks in those precious walls and pulled them apart, brick by brick, insecurity by insecurity. And somehow, he did this before I could tell what was happening. And he showed me, as each wall crumbled little by little, that there really was nothing to fear. That those walls existed for no reason. He made me feel safe even as he destroyed the walls I thought I needed. His unfailing optimism warmed my heart and made me feel like it was safe to finally let others into my life. Not just him either. I started to find myself making small talk by the coffee station with others in the newsroom. Had I ever spoken more than five non-work related words at a time to Jimmy before Clark came along?
Ever since Clark came along, he somehow managed to help me open up and leave the dark confines of a truly sad existence. Whether he's meant to or not, he's helped me to embrace life for what it is. Life isn't just about what the next big story will be. It isn't just about winning Kerths and Pulitzers. It's all the little moments in between. How many times now have Clark and I hung out after work, laughing over take out, playing board games, watching movies? How many nights have I tossed and turned in my bed before finally calling him, needing to say goodnight to him before my rampant mind would give me some rest?
I never really had a best friend until Clark was shoved into my life. Friends, sure. But a best friend? The bond between Clark and I makes me realize that my other "best friends" growing up really weren't best friends at all. When was the last time I saw any of the girls I went to high school with? College? Since graduation probably. And that usually doesn't even cross my mind. But a couple of days away from Clark and I am dying to see him again. Sometimes, when he walks me home at night, it's almost painful to leave him at the steps to my apartment and say goodnight, even knowing that I'll be seeing him bright and early the next day.
Ever since Clark came into my life, I've fantasized about him. Some nights, I think back to that first day I went to pick him up for work at his hotel room. He answered the door clad only in a too small white towel and his glasses. His body is to die for. Sometimes, I wish that little towel had slipped from his hips. I often think about the kisses we've shared. Sure, they've been shams to cover our true intentions, like the kiss I gave him on Trask's plane so that I could whisper instructions to him on taking out our guards. And like the kiss Clark gave me in the honeymoon suite of the Lexor when we were on a stakeout and the maid came in. God how I remember that kiss. Sham or not, it was the most powerful, most sensual, most arousing kiss I've ever experienced. It still makes me weak in the knees to think about it. And I often wonder - if that kiss was just for cover, what would a real kiss with Clark be like? And yet, I'm afraid to cross that line.
Ever since I met Clark, I have felt loved. I've seen the gazes he gives me when he thinks I'm not looking. I've seen the depth of his longing. It terrified me in the beginning. Every relationship I've ever had has been a federal disaster. What if we moved forward and things didn't work out? We'd lose it all - our partnership, our friendship. I'm not willing to let that happen. And yet, I want so much to give us a chance. I know he does. For some unfathomable reason, he loves me. I see that now. At first, I thought it was just some silly crush that a backcountry boy had on a world-wise, and yes, attractive woman. And I thought, after a few weeks together, and especially after my appalling treatment of him, that the crush would wear off. But it never did. Clark only grew somehow fonder of me with each passing day. He's tried to hide it from me, but Clark isn't a very convincing liar. And, I'll admit, I've come to secretly love that he loves me.
But what about me? Do I love him? Can I love him? Has he forced me to change that much that I can finally trust my heart again? Or do I just love that he loves me and nothing more? It's empowering and frightening to know that I hold someone's heart. Am I just attracted to that Adonis body? No, it's more than that. Everything about Clark is attractive, regardless of that handsome face and gorgeous, sculptured body. His personality is what grabs me the most. His quickness to laugh, the ready smile, his sunny disposition, and the fact that he is the poster boy for chivalry and manners - most of the time. He's still like any other man - still makes the occasional innuendo if given half a chance. Like that remark he made when I met him about me being on top. And yet, he is still unlike any other man I have ever met.
He's tried to deny it to me, of course. I mean, he's tried to convince me that he doesn't feel anything towards me. I'll never forget the lies that he spun after my disastrous near wedding to Lex Luthor, just a few short months ago. At the time, I was so upset over everything that happened, that I blindly accepted his excuses. But now, looking back months later and with a clear head, I know in my heart that he was lying to me then, outside of the Planet building. His profession of his love to me in the park weeks before my wedding was the truth. And I think, somehow, that I knew even as I sat there on that bench that he was telling me the truth. I know my heart and stomach were doing back flips. I didn't want it to be the truth, back then. I didn't need or want the confusion. I was with Lex, I didn't need Clark coming out of left field like that. But maybe, deep down, I did want it to be true, I just didn't know it at the time. Clark has laid his heart bare from the beginning. The man is completely incapable of deceiving me. I know him too well.
I am thankful for Clark in so many ways. He's opened up a whole new world for me in the past year. Day by day, hour by hour, he's forced me to become a better person. I need to remember to thank Perry for taking a chance on Clark and me as a team.
We're at the steps of my apartment now. I've been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn't even noticed. Clark turns to me and smiles. I feel myself return the smile. And I wonder - just for the slightest moment, if I should invite him in to talk - about us. About where we are headed. About if we should pursue this mutual attraction. He scrunches up his brow in concern.
"Are you all right?" he asks.
"Fine," I reply. "Sorry, my mind was a million miles away."
He grins at me. "That's ok. Goodnight Lois." He starts to turn away.
"Clark," I call, and he swings back around. "I, uh." I want to invite him in. I want to have that talk. The one talk I fear above all others. But I chicken out. "Happy anniversary," I say instead, hating myself for being so afraid. "I'm glad you're my partner and friend." On an impulse, I cup his face with my hand and guide his head down so that I can kiss him on the cheek. It's a struggle not to bring my lips to his. But somehow, I fight the urge.
"Thank you," he whispers as I withdraw my lips from his impossibly smooth cheek. "This past year with you has been the greatest year of my life. And the most challenging. You've really inspired me to become a better writer. And you've become the best friend I've ever known."
He kisses my cheek and the flesh burns where his lips touch my skin. I try to will myself to say the things I want to say to him, but I somehow can't. All I can do is smile at him. Then, before I can react, he's turned away once more and is heading towards his own apartment. I vow to myself that some day, I will find the courage that I need, and I will tell him all that I feel for him. Some day.