2.
Lionel held both arms out to her, offering a dance, and she stepped into them easily. He slipped one arm around her waist and took her right hand in his. She smiled up at them as their feet rhythmically took over, more out of instinct than anything else.
He didn't know what to say; she fared no better. They danced slowly and in silence until the song came to its inevitable finish. As he did whenever she was near him, Lionel counted this moment as his greatest blessing. He relished in the feel of her thin, silk dress against his skin as he struggled to keep his hand resting in an appropriate place on her back. Her scent was strong; subtle, but powerful. After a minute, she leaned her head against his shoulder and he felt her soft hair against his face. He closed his eyes, committing both the feelings and the moment itself to memory. Sometimes he hated how weak she made him.
Soon, the music faded and the movements around them slowed considerably, and thus so did they. They broke apart slightly, avoiding eye contact with one another, unsure of what to do next. The problem, however, was solved for them when they were approached by a tall, impeccably dressed man with an incorrigible grin plastered on his face.
"Senator!" He advanced toward Martha with open arms.
Flushed, Martha took a deep breath and smiled. "Congressman Leighton, how are you?"
The Republican congressman from Oklahoma paused, observing her from top to bottom. "Much better now that I've laid eyes on you."
She smiled faintly and looked down, self-deprecatingly, noticing Lionel. "Oh, I'm sorry. Congressman Roy Leighton, this is Lionel Luthor. Lionel, Congressman Leighton."
"We've met," Lionel replied, reluctantly offering his hand to the other man, who accepted it just as reluctantly.
"Oh…"
"I'm sure Mr. Luthor won't mind if I steal you away for a bit," Congressman Leighton said, offering his arm to Martha. "Would you, Lionel?"
Lionel shook his head unconvincingly. Martha regarded him apologetically as she allowed Leighton to whisk her away. "We'll talk later," she assured him. Lionel nodded, and almost instantly she was far from view, leaving him both dejected and envious.
Nearly an hour later, Martha found Lionel outside on the empty terrace, taking in the view of the vast expanses of land owned by the hotel. She smiled knowingly and made her way toward him, while the sound of her heels clicked, announcing her presence to him. He turned his head as she reached him and gave her a smile before turning back to the view pensively.
"Well, aren't you Mr. Anti-Social tonight."
Lionel shrugged. "Not many here worth socializing with."
He was avoiding eye contact with her, she could tell. He was tired of dancing around their feelings for each other, tired of having to share her with others because no one recognized her as his. She sighed, never sure just how to act around him.
"I'm sorry about before," Martha offered, congenially. "Roy is an awfully determined man, but he's always been a friend and ally for me on the Hill, I couldn't refuse."
"I understand, Martha," Lionel replied, his smile transparent. "You don't have to explain anything to me."
"And anyway, I'd much rather dance with you than spend twenty minutes on the dance floor trying to keep Roy Leighton's hands from…exploring uncharted waters," Martha said, with a laugh.
He glanced at her fleetingly, then averted his eyes from hers once more.
"What is it?" She asked finally, getting in between his gaze and the view before him so he could ignore her no longer.
He hesitated, uncertain of whether or not he was overstepping his boundaries, crossing a line. He rarely knew for sure. "Do you know that it's been nearly two years since that Thanksgiving?" He paused, noting the puzzled expression on her face. "When you first acknowledged that there was something between us."
"Oh!" Martha gasped, the realization dawning upon her. "Oh. Has it really been that long?"
Lionel nodded. "Feels like a lot longer, especially with you halfway across the country."
"I'm sorry, Lionel," Martha said, with heartfelt genuity. "I just…"
He leaned forward slightly, with a quiet intensity that took her off-guard and sent a chill up and down her spine. "Do you know how long I've waited for you, Martha?" He questioned fervently. "Do you have any idea how many years I've been in love with you?"
Martha's eyes widened and her lips parted, but she was unable to form words. She couldn't believe this was finally happening. They were finally talking about this. Finally confronting it.
"Six years, Martha," Lionel admitted, his tone urgent but barely above a whisper. "All this time, I have been content waiting. Standing aside, staying out of your way, knowing how important your marriage was to you, envying your undying love for your husband. And after Jonathan died, I was nothing less than a friend to you. Always as careful as possible not to influence or pressure you in any way. I valued our relationship too much to jeopardize it, which is precisely why I exerted a bit of self-control and kept myself from kissing you. But it's been nearly two years since then, Martha. I can't tip-toe around anymore, I've outgrown the ability to pretend you're not all I think about when you're not around. I can't pretend to see anyone else when you're in the room." He took a deep breath before continuing. "If the feelings are not reciprocated, fine. I won't pretend I'm not devastated, but fine. It's the constant uncertainty, the imaginary lines that cannot be crossed…I cannot do that anymore. I won't."
Martha looked up at him, tears in his eyes, fear and anxiety etched across her face. His gaze held hers, questioning, longing, their real selves exposed and hanging out in the air to dry.
And with that, she bridged the few inches between her lips and his, and kissed him.
TBC.