Lois walked quickly through the drizzling rain, deep in thought. It was mid-October, nearly two months since the battle, and there was an outside chance the rain would turn to snow overnight. Normally she would have taken a cab this late at night, but the exercise of walking to and from the subway often helped her be a little sharper when she was puzzling over a story.
In this case, the puzzle was yet again how to make a whole story from half-truths. She'd developed a working friendship with James Hyer, a Department of Homeland Security agent. It would be an exaggeration to call him a source; he'd given her background information from time to time, nothing about specific programs or incidents but enough general knowledge to ask some very productive questions.
That changed two days ago when Hyer called asking to take her out to lunch. Something about his tone and the fact that he would want to take her out at all made her immediately agree. Her instincts were telling her this would be professional, not personal, and Lois had very good instincts. She'd been right. Today over sandwiches and salad, he informed her that the number of drones patrolling US airspace had recently tripled. Every branch of the military was bringing them home from overseas and was unofficially lending them to the DHS. Worse, some of them were still weaponized. On paper, they were merely receiving some flight upgrades and those upgrades were being tested at military bases around the nation. Records of flight frequency and duration, however, made it clear that they were being used to spy on US citizens.
Hyer was mostly concerned about what this might mean for civil liberties, but Lois suspected the population at large wasn't the target of the uptick in domestic espionage. Not if the government's eavesdropping devices in her own apartment were any indication. At the same time, it was an important story.
Someone grabbed her from behind. A hand clamped down over her mouth while an arm wrapped around her waist. She struggled but her assailant was too fast, dragging her backward down an alley so quickly that she couldn't get her feet under her. Then she was bodily pinned face-first against a door and, with the clarity born of adrenaline, she realized she was trapped. Hidden in the doorway like this, in the dark and in the rain, no one would be able to see whatever happened next.
Her assailant dug into her raincoat pocket, and she struggled harder when she realized he was after her phone. A stolen purse meant lost money, but a stolen phone meant most of her digital accounts could be compromised. There was a clatter she recognized all too well - her phone hitting the ground and its back popping off. Her mugger leaned close - she could feel his warmth against her neck in the chill night - and quietly said, "I can do things other people can't."
She went rigid in shock and tried to say "Clark?" against the hand that was still over her mouth.
He chuckled softly and said, "No. I'm Woot,right?"
She relaxed, falling into weak laughter against the chest that she only now realized was far more hardened than a mere human's would be. He released her, and she whirled to catch him in a tight hug. "You jerk," she grumbled in his ear, though she was grinning like an idiot. "I can't even tell you to never do that again."
"Sorry I scared you," he murmured, holding her close and resting his cheek against her hair. "And sorry about your phone."
Lois leaned back and he stooped to pick it up. It had fallen in the lee of the doorway onto dry concrete, and he handed the pieces back to her. "Hopefully it'll still work. I had to get the battery out somehow."
She slipped the phone and its back into one pocket and put the battery in the other. "They activated the microphone," she grumbled in annoyance. "If they were eavesdropping through it, they'll already know I'm off their grid. We don't have much time."
"Maybe. Maybe not." He leaned against the doorframe opposite her, eyes scanning the street at the mouth of the alley, looking for anyone who might be coming after Lois. In the reflected headlights of passing cars, she noticed that he wore regular clothes and stubble on his face again.
"There's a bug sewn into your raincoat, too, but the battery's dead. I hope that means they're giving up on trying to find me through you. I don't think they're following you anymore, just watching your apartment and your office at the Daily Planet. Or they might be using less-obvious methods to spy on you."
"So you're testing that theory." She tilted her head. "And you did it in a way that you can run away if someone shows up and no one would be the wiser that it was you. That's brilliant."
He smiled, his gaze darting to hers, before scanning the street again. "Thanks. I've had a lot of time to think about it."
The implications - that he had thought long and hard about how he could see her again - warmed her heart in ways that it really shouldn't. She still barely knew the man, for all that they'd done together. She was full of so many questions. "So...we wait about fifteen minutes? Long enough that anyone eavesdropping on me has a chance to 'rescue' me?"
"That was my thought."
She nodded in agreement and leaned against the doorframe behind her, her stance mirroring his. This is perfect, she thought, he's a captive audience. "So how did you know about the bug in my coat?"
"The same way I could read Dr. Hamilton's name tag in the interrogation room. I...can see through things, kind of like an X-ray. Actually, I can see along most of the electromagnetic spectrum if I want to."
"X-ray vision."
He shrugged.
"So you, what, scanned me?"
He ducked his head a little. "I needed to be sure."
She chuckled softly. "You know, that gives the phrase 'checking a girl out' a whole new meaning."
He flashed another grin, and Lois thought she saw a hint of relief in it.
"So what other superpowers do you have?" she wondered.
"I'm not sure. I didn't realize I could fly until after I found the scout ship in Canada. But I do know I have enhanced sight and hearing."
"Smell?" she interjected with a little smile. He never did answer that at the press conference.
"Yes, but I've never found much of a use for it. My skin is much tougher, obviously, but I seem to have better tactile senses, too."
"You feel more pain than other people do," she murmured in surprise.
He shook his head 'no'. "Like I said, my skin's tougher, so I don't have the kind of pain that comes from injury. I was just...hypersensitive until I figured out how to control it. I learned to read Braille really quickly, though."
"Naturally," she smirked. "Taste?"
"Yes. I hated Kool-Aid and popsicles as a kid because all I could taste was the food coloring. I can handle it better now, but red will always be bitter."
She filed that tidbit of information away just in case it became useful in the future - like if she ever was able to coax him into a French kiss. No gum or breath fresheners, especially anything red. "And there's the superhuman strength," she added.
He nodded. "And the heat vision."
There was quiet regret in his voice and she suspected he was thinking of her screaming while he cauterized her wound. Impulsively, she closed the space between them, resting her head against his chest. "I'm glad you can do things other people can't. It's saved my life several times. And the lives of so many others."
His only answer was to hold her close, resting his chin on the top of her head as he continued to scan the street. He was warm, and Lois slipped her chilled hands under his open jacket. With her head against his chest, she heard his heart react. "Sorry," she muttered, pulling her hands away. "Didn't mean to freeze you out."
"No, it's fine," he hastily said. "I don't mind. It's my fault you're standing out here in the cold." There was something exceptionally warm in his voice when he added, "Go ahead, actually."
Grinning, she cuddled closer. He had emailed her less and less as time went on, and she hadn't heard from him for two and a half weeks. This was more than she'd feared she'd ever have again. Intellectually, she'd understood why he'd kept away, but she also knew that absence didn't necessarily make the heart grow fonder. A part of her had wondered if he'd gotten bored with her or had moved on. Or worse, retreated back into that loneliness that he'd worn like a cloak throughout his adult life.
Which reminded her... "What were your nicknames when you were a kid? I've been curious ever since your first email. It's not like your first name lends itself to one."
He cleared his throat. "Most of them aren't repeatable in polite company."
He'd been called names, she realized. Bullied. "Did you have...many friends?" she ventured, trying to be gentle about it.
"No. Pete was my only one, really, though Lana stuck up for me, too. Mostly on principle, I think." She could clearly hear the smile in her voice when he added, "But I always had my dogs."
It was so...human that she smiled in response. Jonathan going back for the family dog suddenly made more sense to her, too. It wasn't a smart choice, obviously, but the dog had been Clark's best friend.
"You?" he asked.
"I ran with the smart crowd in high school, but I never made any close friends there. Or in college, really. Several of the people I counted as friends at university are working for the competition now."
"Boyfriends?" he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.
"Occasionally," she admitted. "None of them put up with me for very long. You?"
"Nope, no boyfriends," he answered, though she could hear the smirk in his voice.
She teasingly smacked his ribs with one of her hands. "You know what I meant. Have you dated much?"
"No."
The way he said it gave her a sudden suspicion and she looked up at him. "Was I your first kiss?"
He stared determinedly at the mouth of the alley. "Does it matter?"
Yes! Lois wanted to shout. That he'd been that alone, cared about her that much, trusted her that much was monumental, but she also recognized embarrassment when she saw it. Instead she playfully asked, "Was it worth the wait?"
He glanced down at her, a smile slowly lighting his face. "Yes."
Unable to help herself, Lois stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. He cupped his hands around her head and earnestly returned her kiss, but she yelped and leaned back. He let her go, but she could see the worry in his eyes. In explanation, she traced the stubble just above his lip with her fingertip. "It tickles."
His shoulders shook with quiet laughter, and he rested his forehead against hers. "I'll find a different disguise before I come visit you again, I promise."
The dual promise, to shave and to come back to see her, made her heart soar. Risking getting tickled again, she lightly kissed him. "I'm going to hold you to that. Somehow."
He didn't answer, just rested his hands on her face and traced his thumbs over her cheekbones.
Lois closed her eyes, savoring his touch, until another question popped into her mind. "How do you shave, anyway?" she suddenly demanded, looking up at him.
"What's with all the questions?" he retorted. Glancing up at the mouth of the alley, he said, "It's been fifteen minutes. I think we're safe to slip away."
"To where?" Lois asked, almost annoyed with herself for not wondering sooner. Both her apartment and office were bugged, so neither of them were an option.
"Well," he hedged, "it's fairly late. Are you hungry?"
"Are you asking me out to dinner?" Somehow, she couldn't quite wrap her mind around something so...casual with him. After flying in an alien spaceship, meeting his dad's ghost, creating an astrophysical singularity (which wasn't quite the same as a black hole according to Dr. Hamilton), saving the world, and seeing him actually kill another living being, dinner was almost surreal.
He shrugged. "Yeah?"
"On a date?" she pressed.
He was at a loss for words and her heart warmed. "Our first date."
Canting his head, he gave her a small smile. "Unless you count saving the world as a date."
"Naw," she lightly answered, stepping away to loop her arm through his. "Too many interruptions."
Clark - Woot - walked with her close to the wall to shelter her a little from the rain until they returned to where she'd dropped her umbrella a few feet away from the mouth of the alley. Scooping it up, he shook it out (it had landed upside down) and held it over the two of them.
"So you didn't answer my question," she pointedly said as they strolled down the sidewalk.
He glanced sidelong at her, and she could swear she saw a mischievous light in his eyes. "No. I didn't."
"So...?"
"So what?"
Incredulously she glared at him. "You're seriously not going to tell me how you shave?"
He fought a smile, and his expression was so endearing that Lois forgave him despite how exasperating he was being.
"I have to maintain a little mystique."
"Cl...Woot, I hardly think you need to worry about that."
He shrugged and changed the subject. "Which restaurants have you been to around here?"
Lois looked up, trying to get her bearings, and admitted, "None, really. I'm usually too busy thinking when I take this route home."
"Good," he answered, though he seemed more satisfied than impish this time.
"Good?"
"If we go to one of your regular places, there's an outside chance that it'll be watched."
Right, Lois thought. Because even casual contact held danger for him. For them both, really.
"What are you in the mood for?" he wondered.
She tilted her head up to give him an impish smile of her own. "Surprise me."
His 'surprise' was pretty tame - they turned the corner and walked another block and a half to find an all-night diner. "This okay?" he asked.
"Sure."
When they entered, the host greeted them with, "Welcome. Table for two?"
"Yes," Clark answered.
"Table or booth?" the host asked, and Clark looked to Lois, a question in his eyes. It was a small gesture, but Lois appreciated it immediately. Most men would have just answered without asking her opinion. It didn't really matter to her one way or the other, but the fact that he would wait for her answer spoke volumes.
Actually, it suddenly did matter to her. "Booth, please. A quiet one."
The host nodded and led them to a window-seat booth that was at least two tables from anyone else. Lois started to shrug off her raincoat, but Clark said, "May I?"
Looking at him curiously, she realized that he was offering to help her out of her coat. At most a tenth of the guys she'd dated would have recognized that it was a polite thing to do, and only one other had ever offered. They hadn't even ordered yet, and he was knocking her socks off.
"Um, sure," she said, turning slightly so that her back was to him. He gently brushed her hair around her shoulder so he could reach the collar of her coat, and she studiously ignored the fact that her heart reacted to his warm touch on the back of her neck. Then he was lifting the coat off her shoulders and hanging it on the hook beside their booth. He gestured that she should sit down and shrugged out of his own coat before taking a seat himself.
"Can I get you started with something?" the host asked.
Again, Clark deferred to her and Lois answered, "Just water for me, thanks."
While he ordered his drink (iced tea, oddly enough, probably because it didn't have any food coloring) and the host handed them their menus, she reflected on Clark's odd combination of old-fashioned manners and modern sensibilities when it came to respect. He wasn't just a gentleman, he was a perfect one. Of course Superman would also be a super date, Lois thought to herself with a smirk.
"What?" he asked when he saw her expression.
"Nothing," she said. Clark wasn't the only one who could be annoying about not answering questions.
As soon as the host was gone, Lois scooted out of her bench and slid around the table to sit next to Clark - her purpose in requesting a booth to begin with. It had been months since she'd seen him last, and she wasn't about to let a table stand between them.
"This okay?" she asked as he turned slightly, adjusting his position to face her a little more.
"Um...yeah," he answered, sounding a little stunned. "Definitely okay."
Grinning, she shifted a little closer and then opened her menu. A club sandwich sounded really good to her, and she flipped through the pages to see if the place made them, but when she came across the seafood section, another question occurred to her. Leaning closer to Clark, she asked, "Do you have any food allergies or intolerances?"
"No. Why?"
"Doesn't that seem a little odd to you? I mean...well, you give new meaning to the phrase 'foreign food.' It never struck you as strange that you could eat anything anyone else could?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I wonder about a lot of things, Lois. That's pretty low on the list."
She nodded her head, acknowledging he had a point.
