Rise

by Torrin-El

He just wanted to be left alone. Alas, he should've known better.

4. IV

IV

. . . . .

"Are you finally going to tell me what we're doing, Clark?" Diana asks once they're a good amount of feet away from rear entrance of the Gallery. Their walking side by side, her shoulders occasionally bumping his. She has her hands shoved into his jacket pocket, clutching it over her as if she was cold. Which she wasn't, her Amazonian body allowing her to withstand temperature far more than an ordinary human but still, she can't refuse that his jacket is ridiculously comfortable on the inside. It doesn't matter to him, she can see. Doesn't even spare a glance at it. He's just walking next to her, head down, and hands shoved in his pocket. He's fairly quiet but Diana doesn't object to it. She's honestly beginning to enjoy the city's nightlife. No matter the darkness, it was bright. Few people were walking up and down the street, some holding hands or drunkenly stumbling towards their next destination. Most were hanging inside bars or coffee shops, giving Diana a great excuse to leave her hood down. Paparazzi wasn't a big deal with her but she was still conscious of it, and she knew Clark wouldn't like it seeing as he had come all this way to London from Smallville, Kansas just to-

She sighed, realizing she was still awaiting her answer and angled her head in his general direction.

"Why, hmm? Don't enjoy my company?" He asks, easily dodging the question, and he tilts his body in her direction as he continues to walk. She has no idea where they're going but he seems to know. It doesn't escape her that she's following a stranger, someone she's only known for a day but it's odd, she thinks- it doesn't feel as such. It feels far longer.

She shakes her head and pushes a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, watching the ground beneath her as she matches pace with him. "It's interesting company to be in, I must admit."

At that, he laughs quietly and shakes his head. "Takes one to know." He pushes his tongue against the inside of his mouth, looks up at the building beside them, and watches it for a bit, his eyes crinkling at the amount of light before almost immediately looking away and continuing on. They stop at a four way intersection where many cars occupy the streets, with insanely bright headlights. Here, many people waited patiently to cross said intersection. Many people with phones, Clark noticed with narrowed eyes, and would no doubt recognize the Ambassador walking idly with him. He whispered a slight curse before pulling a flat cap from his back pocket. Turning his face away from the lights, he pulls his hair back from his face and tries to tidy his messy locks to where he can fit the hat over it before turning towards her. She watches him as he pulls her hood over her head and breathes in sharply when her eyes meet his own. "Lean your head on my shoulder and look inward."

"Why don't you lean your head on my shoulder?" She shoots back and his eyes shoot from the crowd of people towards her with a piercing glance, conveying his irritation with a slight shift in his jaw and his blue eyes hardening. She simply just smiles, teasingly, eyebrow cocked as she simply pulls her hair to the side before moving to lean her head on his shoulder and feels him shudder at the contact "You know, to anyone else, it'd seem like you're kidnapping me."

As soon as the crown of her head meets the muscular swell of his shoulder, she's immediately assaulted by his scent. The woodsy smell infiltrated her nose a long with a smooth but subtle scent of cologne and something foreign she'd say, something alien. To her utter surprise, it's practically intoxicating and she scoots the slightest bit closer. It doesn't go unnoticed by him, of course. He, being the all aware, alien, shady, farm boy, nothing gets past him. Out of all the people, she sighs.

"Is that so?" He asked with a small smile playing at his pink lips as he wrapped his large arm around her underneath his jacket that she's still wear before settling above her hip, respectively. She nudges his head up with the crown of her own and tilts inward as he said. He inhales sharply when she does so, tensing noticeably when she turns into him as soon as a man with glasses looks up at them. "I might just consider that next time. Would make things a lot easier… Ow."

He rubs the area of his side as to where she hit it.

"You assume there will be a next time." She says and she can see the little hairs rising on his neck when her breath blows across it. It shouldn't be comforting, knowing how he reacts to her, her presence, but her heart, her mind finds it so.

"Oh, trust me, princess…" He breathes with a small dangerous smile, adjusting the cap on his head and watches the people surrounding them with narrowed, calculating eyes. "There will be."

She adjusts her head against his shoulder to look up at him, watching his cerulean eyes move quickly between person and object. They glow with the light, she notices, noticeably emphasizing the hue. "How can you be so sure?"

"If you don't mind me being so… Blunt, I…" He inhales sharply and sighs, turning towards her, his eyes don't find her but focus on a spot near her feet. He's deep in his thoughts, she can tell, he can't and will not focus on one thing. It's a minute before he finally decides to meet her eyes and the light is close to changing, soon to allow them the cross the intersection. He doesn't seem to care though, as if they had all the time in the world. Closing his eyes, he breathes out and tries once more, "I find myself drawn to you…"

"In what way…?" She asks, twisting her head farther in his warmth when a group of people begin to take selfies. She looks up to find him, watching her and she tries not to focus too much on their proximity. It's almost impossible with the fact that their practically sharing the same oxygen, he breathes in, she breathes out, and its noticeable when the hairs on his beard move. He's so close. In all honesty, she wasn't even concerned with the closeness of his body but the proximity of his lips.

"Something fairly dangerous."

Before she knows it, the light turns red and the hand holding them to the sidewalk immediately turns to a figure walking.

Clark waits a moment, watching the other pedestrians carefully, until they're the only ones left to cross. He moves forward and she unconsciously follows, gripping the shirt he wears with both hands as to not fall. He's walking so fast, mind focused on getting away from all the flashing lights, and he's holding her with so much strength she's not even sure if she's not walking anymore or if he's holding her up. They make it across so unnaturally quick and she wonders for a brief moment, eyes widened in question on whether he used his alien speed to cross but he hadn't. She was too far gone in her mind to live in the five seconds it took to cross the intersection. He notices but it doesn't deter his stride, trying to gain as much distance from all the cellular light.

She wonders why he doesn't slow from his stride, why he won't give her the smallest of slack to actually walk, prompting her to look up at him.

What has him so afraid, she wonders.

And why risk it, for her?

. . . . .

They've parted once they are a good, two to three blocks away.

His arm slipped from her waist, immediately severing the warmth they shared. She lets the grip she has on his shirt slip but he lets her keep the hoodie for future reference. Whatever happened, their moment is severed and whatever connection they hold is conscious and they are oh so very wary.

He's behind her, at an angle where it seems as if he's beside her and she's alert to his presence. He hasn't earned her trust, they both know, even though he hasn't done anything to lose it. She's unsure on what to do, to run, to fly away, or to turn around and confront him, ask, no, demand to know why he's here, why after practically running her away from his home that he wants to talk to her now. Frustration is slowly brewing and she doesn't know what to do with it. She doesn't know what to do with herself, it's ridiculous and she wishes one of her gods would bless her with the wisdom. This is probably the first ever situation where she's lost as to what to do. The first time she's ever met her match, where someone has similar powers as her own, maybe even stronger and could endure a fight long enough with her to destroy this city. Adding onto this, they both have some sort of animosity towards each other. She looks up at him. He doesn't seem dangerous. In fact, he seems carefree, at ease. Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans that hang dangerously low on his sinewy hips and she tries to ignore the curves of his lower abdomen, his Adonis line, she remembers and tries to forget the brand of underwear he's wearing when he crouches down to hand a homeless man some cash. She's watching the transaction, the kindness and sincerity in his blue serene eyes. The homeless man nods enthusiastically and muttering 'thank you' and 'God bless you'. Clark simply nods in acknowledgement, not necessarily knowing what to do but awkwardly skidding along, walking away from the incredibly grateful man. Clark's eyes shoot towards her, looking at her. There's something in his eyes. Maybe he's making sure she's following. She has no idea. The homeless man is watching the both of them with a small knowing smile, clutching his newfound money tightly to his chest. When she's made her way next to him, Clark still watching her, she crouches down, opens her clutch and triples the amount he has. He gapes at her.

"What's your name?" She asks quietly, feeling the intensity of a familiar gaze on her and immediately tries to wave it off.

"J-Joh-Johnny," He stutters in response.

"Well, Johnny, to my knowledge there's a hotel about a block away, cheap, but warm. A lot warmer than this current weather. They have a diner… Go, I insist." She rises and so does he. He holds the bill tightly to his chest as well, along with the twenty dollars Clark must have given him.

"Thank… Thank you." He praises, looking up at her as if she's some sort of untold goddess and she's given him the answers to all life's problems.

Clark does nothing, just watches on as the man shakes her hand enthusiastically before kissing it repeatedly. He ignores the flash of red he sees when the stranger's lips connect with the back of her hand. Over and over again. Rubble from a brick that he's clutching falls to the ground and curses, immediately he removes his flexing hand from the side of the building he's standing next to. He claps his hands together and wipes it on his jeans, eyes glancing up when he hears the familiar clacking of heels.

"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?" He asks with a slight smile.

"It's almost forty degrees out here, Clark. Even though it's not filled with a battle of sorts, it's still equivalent to saving someone's life," She meets him head on, eyes narrowing on the slight bit of fresh brick pieces now on the ground.

He walks towards her, closer than necessary before he's a breath away from her. Tugging the jacket, she's wearing, his jacket, he says, "Maybe, we should share the jacket then. You know, body heat and all that?"

She pauses, lips parted to let out a soundless gasp. No, her mind immediately answers but the lasso is burning against her thigh. There's something about him that captures her and she can't deny it with the lasso wrapped around her. He has this sardonic omniscient charm that she loses herself in. The way he talks, the way he holds himself is undeniably drawing her in. She considers it. She wishes it wasn't true, she wishes it was a simple joke but it's not. It's more. But it shouldn't be, seeing that she's with someone else. It's bad. She knows it is. This growing fascination. Addiction. She doesn't know why. What is it about him, she begs whatever deity who holds the answer. Hera, Zeus, Gaea, Artemis, Apollo. Whoever. Alas, they answer with silence. It's worse than she previously thought.

Seeing her internal struggle he decides to give way, laughing lightly when he says, "I'm, uh, kidding… Earth's climate doesn't affect me."

Much to his bewildered happiness, a smile creeps on her face and she shoves him in the stomach, successfully shoving him back an inch. He lets her. "You are unbearable."

"You contradict that statement with your actions, princess… You make it seem easy." He adds, turning on his heel of his boots and taking small steps away from her. She understands that he's waiting for her to follow and does so, much happier than she was earlier.

Falling in step with him, she continues, "Endurance, fortunately, for you, is one of my strong suits."

His eyebrow rises from its current position, arching and he turns to her before muttering absentmindedly, "I have no doubt."

She smiles, shoving her hands in his jacket pockets. He doesn't mind, just continues. They continue to walk in silence, the occasional dog bark and car horn sounding around them. The night is beautiful, she decides well into the walk. Most of the tall buildings have closed, nonetheless, there were a few late night workers who sat in the light of their office, typing up papers or sending out files. Diana didn't necessarily care enough to find out but she was fascinated. There were people in pubs, some lonely and lost, some lost but in love, and others just getting drunk out of their mind. She smiled at the simplicity of it. He didn't miss it out of the corner of his eye and tried to ingrain the image in his mind. She was almost shocked to find herself curious about these people, who they were, their story. What drove people to do such things during the night that they could easily do during the day? Of course there was some sort of vibe or air about the night life that was beginning to attract Diana but still- what drove people to get stupidly drunk or to drown their sorrows alone, at a bar of all places. She wonders.

He watches her from the corner of his eye.

She doesn't miss his glances but doesn't call him out on it. On any other occasion she would but she can't deny that she's been stealing glances at him as well.

They pass a brightly colored building before he pauses, swiftly dipping into the alley next to it which is on the contrary, almost totally pitch black. She's startled to find his hand latching onto her arm, his fingers encircling around the bare skin. His eyes narrow when he sees the bright light of her sword materializing in her opposite hand.

"Nuh uh, princess, I wouldn't do that if I were you…" He grunts and wags a finger at her, a small teasing smile crossing his features. He's almost satisfied to see her sword slowly fade back into the magical place where it came from. She looks at him warily and his eyes flash with irritation. "Please… Just… Trust me…"

"And why should I do that?" She asks and tilts her head, searching his eyes for something, anything to have a peek inside.

Clark snorts, scratches his head through the cap before leaning back against the building behind him, with crossed arms. "You've come this far, haven't you? Why stop now."

She pauses in realization and casts him a suspicious glance. "You make a fairly odd point. Why have I been following you all night?"

He gives her a lopsided grin. "Ma always told me it was the charm."

"That's not what she told me." She says with a dazzling yet teasing smile.

"Her mind gets a bit fuzzy when she's sleepy." He says and half the fight's in dragging his eyes from her red lips while the other is trying to form a coherent thought; nonetheless, say something intelligible. It takes a moment too long to his utter bewilderment and concern, to remind himself of why they were there to begin with and he shakes his head. He opens a door next to them and Diana is immediately greeted with a scent of foreign foods. Clark smiles at her before entering first, moving to hold the door for her. He leans against it and holds out his hand for her, very aware of her wary and unsure look.

"Here's the answer to your first question… I wanted to say thank you… For what you did at the press conference, for keeping my secret. You didn't have to and I gave you every reason not to… Forgive me if this is too much but and me being impartially secretive all night but, uh, that was a fairly big deal to me. You lied to them all… For me, including to your… boyfriend…" He looks down and shrugs before his gaze reaches her once more, and his eyes take on a deeper side of sincerity. "I just thought… Well, a little black birdy told me that you deserved more than a shitty thank you card and I read on one of those articles that you like Chinese… So, here we are."

She looks around. It is indeed a Chinese restaurant. It's small but bright, various colors scattered around the room. On one side of the room is a counter with a golden cash register and behind it a red curtain with brown intricate designs weaved into it. On the other side was a few tables and booths, a rusty old gumball machine, a Pacman game lodged between the front entrance and a bouncy ball dispenser. On the far side of the room are two large windows looking out onto the street with a large neon sign hanging dangerously on the inside, blinking every now and then. An old chandelier hung in the middle of the room, casting yellow light all over the room. She noticed little ducks and turtles were painted onto it, some were halfway peeled off. Aside from the sound of sizzling food she can hear the faint sound of music. She doesn't recognize the artist or song but it sounds beautiful nonetheless. After scanning the inside, she notices that there's no one else here and turns to Clark with a questioning glance.

"The owner owes me… And I think it'd be odd if someone saw the Themysciran Ambassador with little ol' me."

She doesn't know what to say. No one has done this for her, ever and it takes her far longer than necessary to register it. She can't get any words out, she's trying to say everything but nothing at all and almost chokes. He tilts his head at her and brings his hand up farther, waving it mildly in front of her face.

"You comin' or what?"

She simply nods and slowly walks in, doing another double take of the area. He watches from behind her as he closes the door, trying to take in her reaction. Was she happy, sad, angry, confused? He couldn't tell and it was beginning to make him frustrated. Shaking his head, he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards their designated table. It's by the window, much to her pleasure and he moves around her, pulling out a seat for her. She follows suite, smiling almost shyly as she places herself in the chair and waits as he takes his own. As he does so, she pauses and catches a glimpse of his shirt in the rustic lighting and can't stop the laughter that flows. His head snaps up to see the source of her amusement but pauses at the sight of her. She has the biggest smile on her face and he can't help but stare. It takes him by surprise and his smirk dies with her radiating beauty. Damn, he breathes out heavily and he leans on the chair behind him, giving his growing weak knees a break from her. She's too amused to notice but when her amused eyes meet his, he's abruptly pulled out of his stupor and looks down to see what's so funny and can't help the smile that adorns his own face.

He's wearing a dark blue shirt with her Wonder Woman symbol on it that's most definitely form-fitting.

"Um, in all honesty," He begins, wiping at his nose as he tries to remember the exact moment he bought it and the excuse that came along with it. "I'm… Actually a big Wonder Woman fan."

"Is that so?" She asks, smile still gracing her face along with a perfectly curved brow rising in question as she perches her hand on her hand. "And all this time, I thought you had a fleeting bit of animosity towards her."

"No," He waves it off," Of course not."

"You really didn't have to do… All this, especially that," She motions towards the entirety of the restaurant absentmindedly with her hand before pointing to the skin tight shirt he wear. He shakes his head, his fringe absently falling in front of his eyes. "No, you're right, I didn't have to…"

He leant forward, his hands supporting him on the table and pauses an inch in front of her face, his cool breath fanning out against her lips.

"I wanted to."

Immediately, he stands and she stares up at him. He winks at her before disappearing behind the red curtains from earlier. She watches as he retreats, trying desperately to ignore the way his shirt clings to every muscle fiber and leans back in her chair. He was, she decided, an incongruity. She had never, in all of her lives, met someone like him. He was so different from what she was experienced to. The privileged life of a princess and an ambassador, yet, she finds the most fun in a farm boy with powers out of this world. Fun. She wanted to smile, something she wasn't that accustomed to. Yes, of course, she had her few and simple enjoyments but something was different with him, she felt, almost, free. No hiding, no restrictions, no secrets. Is this what he offered to everyone he encountered, a once in a lifetime opportunity of speechlessness and oddities that one's mind couldn't imagine? Yes, he left her perplexed. Never has she met anyone like this, someone who could take her by surprise, someone who kept her on her toes and kept up with her speed, almost outmatching it. She almost couldn't describe it, the way he made her feel, what went through her when he said something you don't hear every day. He almost made her forget, made her forget the fact that she was Wonder Woman, a member of the notorious Justice League, or the Themysciran Ambassador, or the future ruler of Themyscira and held multitudes of responsibilities. It was as if, the whole world disappeared with him, as if there was nothing outside this small Chinese restaurant. It was a beautiful illusion, she had to admit.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, old man. You know my ma would be all over your ass, if she heard about this?" She turned to see Clark coming back, four smoking hot plates on his arm, a small witty grin on his face with a small tinge of concentration, and a small Asian man following him, looking all the more angry and shouting at him in what she recognized to be Chinese. Clark doesn't stop though, his entire focus is on the four plates he's holding and making his way towards the table. She moves to help him, rising out of her seat.

"No… No, I got it." He says, his tongue sticking out in concentration. Diana smiles at the look, something she thought she'd never see on his face. The small man is still following him, ramming his small fist into his back that she's sure doesn't hurt him one bit. "There…"

He sets the plates down, two in front of her and two on his side before immediately turning towards his angered companion. She's almost startled when he starts speaking Chinese, almost natively. He's speaking at an increasingly fast rate and she almost forgets that she can translate. She hears something about fishing and Arthur before Clark cuts him off with a small smile.

"I'll handle it, I promise, Mr. Li… Go upstairs, get a good night sleep and don't worry about a thing." He murmurs, turning who she assumes is the owner of this establishment around and pushing him lightly towards the red curtains.

"Clark," Diana chastises and the two men stop, turning around and staring at her," Why are you shoving the owner of this charming establishment out of his own business, even after he's cooked and closed his place of business for us?"

He simply opens his mouth before closing it abruptly.

She approaches the two and she gently drags Clark's hands off Mr. Li, holding one of them as a sign for him not to return it. He watches her with eyes she can't recognize but doesn't bother to deduce the meaning behind his intense gaze; instead she turns towards the owner and smiles. Speaking slowly in Chinese, she begins to thank him for what he's done and offers him a chance to join them for dinner.

He smiles brightly. She feels Clark stiffen beside her. Surprisingly, Mr. Li shakes his head, thanking her for the offer before calling Clark multitudes of offensive things in his language before wishing her a goodnight. She responds the same and smiles, watching and listening as he retreats upstairs. She turns abruptly, making her way back to her seat but not before sending a wink to Clark. "That didn't seem so hard; don't know why it took you so long."

He hums and watches her as she returns to her seat, following shortly behind. "Well, there's a certain charm about beautiful women in expensive dresses."

Diana takes a seat and watches as he does the same. He scoots his chair forward and places his elbows on the table, grabbing for his fork. She pauses. "Are you insinuating that women gain the things they do, solely on their looks?"

He hears some slight agitation in her voice and fights back a smirk. He picks at his food before answering her, his gaze never wavering. "No… I'm insinuating that men are desperate enough to fall for it. The sight of a pretty lady and they stop thinking with their heads..."

She tilts her head at his response. Never, had she ever heard someone explain it that way. Well, a man, at least. She heard plenty of women complain over it but to hear a man admit to his gender's faults.

"And what about you? Are you a victim of a woman's beauty?" She asks with a skeptical glance. Clark smiles a little, stabs his food with his fork before taking a bite. She picks up her own fork and digs into her own food as she awaits an answer.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" He answers almost shyly. She watches him. He doesn't look at her this time, just picks at his food some more. "Looks… Attractiveness… It's not enough for me but a woman with substance, with depth, will, and complexity… Yeah, then I guess you could call me a victim."

She didn't need the lasso to know he wasn't lying. It was obvious, the way he ducked his head shyly and almost caved in on his self, his resistance on saying so out loud, and the way his heart was beating erratically to gain the beat it previously had. It takes a moment after a few bites of food before it returns to its normally slow pace. She doesn't respond, just eyes him from the fallen parts of her hair and eats her food quietly.

"What about you, hmm?" He asks, wiping his mouth with the corner of his napkin before placing it in his lap. She raises her brow, her mouth too occupied with chewing that it can't ask him to clarify. "What type of man does the infamous Wonder Woman look for?"

"None… Since I already have one," She says around her fork as she goes for another bite, missing the way his eyes flash red for a brief moment, how his hand which isn't clutching the fork breaks off a part of the table it's leaning on. Control, he can imagine Bruce saying and he curses him. She looks up at him when she feels the table jerk. He's standing, his back to her.

He mutters a small excuse me and something about a new fork.

"You know… Clark, this is really good, honestly… Far better than I expected." She compliments, moving her food into separate bites before taking another.

She can hear him hum agreeably from the other side of the curtains.

He returns shortly, clutching another fork in his hand before taking his seat. Immediately, he dives right in. Theirs a moment of comfortable silence before either one of them talk, Clark solely focused on his food and Diana glancing towards him every now and then. In the time, the music has changed and it begins to rain outside. The neon sign flickers but manages to stay on. They hear the occasional thump of Mr. Li's footsteps upstairs but that's all. Nothing but the pitter patter of rain, the occasional clink of silverware, the hum of the game machine behind her, and Mr. Li's TV surrounding them.

She's done with her first plate and he's nearing his second when she decides to speak.

"Thoughtfulness… Open-mindedness… Strength and will, of course… And complexity."

He pauses, his fork slowing, and he looks up at her from beneath his fringes. Sitting back, he watches her, analyzes her, dropping his fork and placing both hands in his lap. His eyes never leave her and her eyes never leave him. She wonders what he sees, what he's thinking when his eyes flick back and forth between her left and right eye, when they trace the outline of her nose, the curve of her jaw, the dimples in her cheeks. He cracks a small smile and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes follow swiftly. "And I assume the man you have now, possess all these qualities?"

"Enough…" She says, nodding lightly. "Why do you ask?"

He breathes out a sigh. The song changes and he leans back down, picking up his fork and picking with his food. "Just kind of curious what your life's like…"

It's a lie. She can't tell. He doesn't give way.

Clark laughs, lightly. "I mean… I'm curious as to what a superhero, a diplomat, and princess' life is like. I wouldn't know, of course. Hell, I barely know anything…"

She smiles. It's small but lifts the mood significantly.

"I don't know anything about this whole Ambassador thing. What exactly do you do? Cause the image I've been painting has to do with you having brunch with Queen and President on a Sunday morning before being called away by the infamous Batman to save the world from some half-cocked psychopath claiming the world did him wrong... Am I spot on?"

Diana laughs and he finds himself smiling.

"Come on… I know there's more to you than meets the eye…"

"Actually… There's not much." She corrects and the smile on his face fades slowly and his eyes focus on her. "From your knowledge, what you see is what you get. I go to work every day at the Embassy, speak with Diplomats and Ambassadors all over the world. I attend to Balls, Galas, events of that sort, for charity or whatnot. And when the world's in trouble I respond with my team. After the problem has been dealt with and enemies have been vanquished, I attend to the wounded. Then, per usual, I share this information with Colonel Trevor who always aids in the cleanup and is not so conveniently my boyfriend. Then… The next day… I do the same thing over again."

He tilts his head. She's not looking at him but a spot on the floor. He can tell by the way she's looking that she's in her mind. Something inside him, demands that he bring her back.

"Well, princess, if it's any consolation… I work on a farm all day and night." He says and he's so desperate to see her smile once more.

"Why?" She asks and he's almost taken aback by the question, by the seriousness of it. "You have the strength of Gods, the speed of Hermes, the strength of Kratos, and the might of Zeus, yet you choose to attend to cows and horses in the middle of nowhere."

His eyes flashed red.

"It isn't about what I have or what I possess… It's about what I don't want to lose." He says, his eyes leaving her and turning to his hands in his lap. She can see, without looking into his blue orbs, that he's agitated and can hear the angered, slow, beat of his heart. "I tried once to reveal myself to the world and I almost lost everything that I cared for… It's not as easy as you think to give yourself to the world… Especially the only life you've ever known… I don't care for monuments… Or world-wide fame, or popularity, or money, or women throwing themselves at me, I don't want a supermodel girlfriend attached to my arm 24/7, I don't want people worshipping me or naming a holiday after me. What would that amount to when you lose your soul in the process, hmm?"

He's angry now and she can tell by the way he refuses to meet her gaze.

"You know…" He begins, softer now that he's taken a breath. "I don't live out in the middle of nowhere for horses and cows… It's only ever been for her. Nothing else… She's given her life to me, both of them. I've cost them so much… So much, and I intend to repay every single waking second I owe them… Her. She deserves that… Martha deserves that."

He brings up one of his hands and rubs the heel of his palm in one of his eyes that she now notices are red rimmed. He sniffs and looks out the window.

"I'm sorry… That was ignorant of me to say."

He shakes his head and swallows causing his Adam's apple to bop up and down. His head falls softly against the window and the pitter patter of rain makes itself known. It's soft, soothing to his sensitive ears.

"If you weren't who you were now, if you didn't possess the powers you did… Where would you be? Krypton doesn't exist and you belong to this planet. Who would you be?" She asks quietly, head leaning against the cool window screen to catch his gaze. His eyes move slowly towards her.

"I… I don't know, to be honest. This is the life I've only ever possessed. I take care of a farm, tend to the livestock and crops but… But I can also fly to other parts of the world, Brazil, Japan, Australia, the Bermuda, China, Russia, India. In an instant, I can learn their language in less than a minute, I can solve any math problem given to me faster than any ordinary human. Every day I spend on this planet, I grow stronger… I can go to outer space and bare my body to the sun. I can't tell you what it'd like to be human cause I'm not one, I'm so far from it…" He notices the way her eyes fall from his own and his narrow. What is it about her that makes him feel so much? Sighing, he continues. "I… try, though."

His heart unnaturally warms when he sees her eyes ignite with interest. His lips twitch.

"How so?" She scoots impossibly closer and he wants so much to incinerate the table that separates them.

"Every now and then… I go to this, uh, Church, I suppose. I have absolutely no idea what it's called but I attend every Sunday morning with Martha and Arthur. I go there and I walk in… And I take a seat in the back. We watch as other people come in as the service is about to begin. Everyone takes their seat and a lady comes around, wearing a hat with a flower, and she hands everyone a program… Including me. She smiles at me while doing so and I always find myself smiling back. I sit in, watch them not watching me, watch them pay attention to the man on the podium spewing out words about… About a God, I arrived on Earth. He speaks of vengeance, righteousness, mercy, forgiveness. He'd preach it and people would shout and stand and they'd always startle me… The man at the podium would point at people and tell them that anything they asked of this… God, that He would grant it, that He might not grant it in the way you want it but in the way you need it. I had never seen so much faith in a God no one could see but one time, after everything was over, I walked up to the man behind the podium and asked him who this God was and he told me that this God had no name, that this mighty deity had need for no name. And I asked him, why's that? He smiled, this odd smile and said there's no power in a name but only what lies behind it. Then the music would begin, the choir sings and everyone rises," Clark smiles slightly at the memory. Clearing his throat, he continues, "It's a happy, cheerful tune… I remember, uh, my Pa, Johnathon Kent… Before he passed… He would always dance, every single Sunday, he'd dance to the tune and always afterwards, when we were home, he'd hum it happily, sing along to it if his mouth wasn't stuffed with pie."

He barks out a laugh and Diana is almost startled at its randomness. She notices that it seems almost boyish, child-like, compared to his other accompanying laughter. This, she sees in his eyes, is genuine. He's experiencing a moment of nostalgia and she doesn't dare interrupt.

"The song would begin and he'd sing along with the choir as the… How do you say, the, uh, the Pastor comes in. He's shouting, not angrily though, it's happy and it always seemed to make everyone rise, including my father who would clap louder than anyone in the room. The Pastor would turn and look at us, look at John then to me then back. They would shake hands and then he'd turn back to me before kneeling. I was startled at first because at the time, people in school thought me a freak for some of the things I did, but I had looked at this man and he had smiled. He smiled at me, told me his name and asked me how I was doing that fine morning. I hesitated, his kindness had frightened me and it took a little nudge from my pa before I had stuttered out a good. The man laughed, placed his hand on my shoulder and told me I'd be something great one day and asked for God to guide me. I had no idea what he meant but before I could stutter out another response, he rose, shouted to the crowd good morning and made his way to the podium… It was rare but I felt it, the first wave of humanity."

"What was?" Diana asks softly.

Clark smiles gently before his lips turn into a forced line, lifts his head from the window and leans forward. His eyes are slightly watery and she can hear the slight stumble of his heart, his uneven breaths. He takes one deep breath, it quivers, and he says, "Human kindness."

"What happened to this preacher…?"

He sniffs, flicks his forefinger against the tip of his nose and sits up straight. "He's gone, buried next to the church. Attended the funeral myself. Pastor… William… Montgomery, 1955 – 2017."

"… You said he preached of a God with no name." She remembers.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms and leaning on the table with them, shoving his plate to the side. "He isn't part of your beliefs… He's something else, entirely. I don't know what but I understood that my father and mother feared Him."

"Do you believe? Have you the same fear?"

"Martha and Johnathon told me after the first time she took me to Church that I don't have to, that I'm not obligated to worship something I don't understand, that I don't have to believe and I wouldn't have to go with them anymore. At the time, I was still hung up on Rao, a god from Krypton that had died with the planet. So I was hesitant at first to believe at first but in all honesty, I find my belief wavering. I feel as if there's more, as if I'm… Connected to this nameless God and that there's something coming… Not for me, specifically but something that I was meant to do."

His words fall softly on her and it sends her into her thoughts. If she hadn't known that he came from another planet she'd think he was a demigod. He undoubtedly possessed the power of one, not to mentioning the body. But a connection to a God? If he were talking to someone else they'd probably laugh or think him positively insane. Fortunately, for him, she's not someone else.

"Ah, shit, that sounded stupid…" He bows and rubs a hand through his hair, nails soon scratching the scalp and messing up his already tousled hair. She can't help but admire the movement, her eyes watching the movement and her hand twitches.

Diana smiles as she watches him plant his head in the table, no doubt leaving a crack by the sound of it. "No, it didn't… I believe in my own deities and they guide me every now and then."

Clark grumbles something unintelligible and rolls his head to the side, peering up at her with one oceanic eye. "At least yours talk to you."

She nods, relaxing, leaning back in her chair, placing her hands in her lap. "Occasionally… When they want to or need to."

He hums, flexing his arms and hands, and immediately sits up. She realizes, he's reeling, from all that emotion he just gave way, everything he just revealed to her. He's not use to it, she can tell, the way his heart beat is trying to find a pace to settle, how he can't sit still. His eyes are almost zoned out, pupils completely narrowed. He's opened a portion of his heart to her, trusted her with this knowledge he's given her. He trusts her. Why so quickly? Why so effortlessly and carelessly? What has she done to earn this? She doesn't know what to do but then he's back, his pupils fixing back to their previous size and zeroing in on her. His hands flex and his arms react to the action. By the gods, she's already admitted that she'll never get used to that.

But that, she realizes, is him, always full of surprises.

"Your turn."

She pauses, eyebrow rising and her head tilting further as if she hasn't heard him correctly. "Pardon?"

"I get a question now, princess," He hums and his hand shoots out, curling into a fist before opening again, "Fair is fair and I unnaturally trust you for some odd reason so give me it."

Her mind is trying desperately to catch up with the situation.

"The lasso." He demands and rolls his head once more. "It compels you to tell the truth, am I right? You trusted me and I trust you but I don't want you to be forced so either give it to me or put it on the table."

She crosses her arms over her chest and levels him with a suspicious look. "How do you know I possess it?"

"X-ray vision…" He answers, making a fist and opening it once more.

She clears her throat. "You are fully aware that you saying that… Well, let's just say a lot of things come to mind."

Clark shakes his head with a sober look. "First off, you'd be able to tell and secondly… I have a strong hatred for such behavior."

"I…," Diana looks in his eyes and is almost partially startled to see the level of serious and anger they hold. There's absolutely no room for doubt. Who is this man, she questions, this foreign being with all true intentions and holds no ill will towards women? She's asking anyone who will answer and immediately she's berated with answers. A male, therefore, a liar, Hera spits. A questionable warrior but who does not favor the companionship of a beautiful siren? Zeus wonders. Not questionable but indeed a warrior, Poseidon comments. I cannot tell you child but I favor him, he tends to field, nurtures them, protects them, dare I say that be reflected upon him as a male, Demeter answers. Sweetheart, I dare not answer for he is a mystery to me but do keep him close, Athena interrupts. Follow him, child, and find out, Gaea answers. Apollo hums, his intentions are indeed true, my dear sister, do give him your trust for I fear he may need it. Do not fear to give into him, child, that body can withstand and endure more than your current human male counterpart can, Aphrodite answers unabashedly and Diana can imagine the seductress' smile. Mold him, Diana, turn him into something great, the blacksmith, Hephaestus says wearily. Her head falls at the magical onslaught and he's there, beside her, hand on the side of her cheek, running softly through her hair, the pads of his fingers ghosting over her scalp, when she fails to wince, he retracts, eyes her a moment, his eyes flashing bright white. She wants to smile at his consideration but she can't. He shouldn't be doing this, taking care of her. He shouldn't be this close, this worried. It's dangerous, she knows and she's tempted, damn him, she's tempted to let him continue. Sighing, she reassures him with a small smile before removing his hand. He doesn't fight her, just lets his eyes dim back to blue. It's beautiful but she refuses to look.

"I believe you." She remembers and reaches for the lasso wrapped around her leg. He turns away and she can hear his quiet footsteps as he returns to his seat while she places the lasso next to her on the edge of the ridge of her chair. Looking up, she finds him waiting patiently. "Well… Ask away," She says with a small hesitant smile.

"Hold on…" He says. "I'm thinking."

"By the gods, Clark." She admonishes.

"I don't want to waste it…" He responds with a small, shy smile before shaking his head. "How do you do it…?" He finally asks after a beat. "Keep up so many faces and remain true to yourself? How do you know what you want, what you really want, and not something you keep yourself content with cause it's… Convenient?"

"A little personal, don't you think?" She asks, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

His own brow rises as well, challenging hers with a small dangerous smile playing at his lips. "Oh, no, princess… We've passed personal."

"Is that so?" She questions.

"Fair is fair."

"Mhm and is that your reasoning behind everything?"

"The way I see it, I know you better than you know yourself," He breathes out, leaning back in his chair, hands splayed on his lap when he wasn't making ridiculous hand gestures. "Either that or I'm fortunate enough to see a side of you no one else does… Which one is it?"

She doesn't respond, eliciting a small knowing smirk from him. He tilts his head and continues, "Maybe it's both…"

He's working his way towards hitting a nerve, he can tell. Her head nods forward, meeting his dark blue eyes with her own, she asks quietly, "And why would I do that for a total stranger?"

"How do you go back to being strangers with someone who has seen your soul…?" He asks and she tilts her head, her eyes finding his. He meets her head on, his eyes never wavering from hers. She's confused, questioning herself, asking herself the same exact question. He, unsurprisingly, is unfazed, just waiting. Waiting for her to see it. See what, she's not entirely sure but he's patient. "A Question That Bleeds by Nikita Gill, you should read it some time."

And just like that, the spell is broken, evoking an eye roll for her part.

"Now… Will you please?" He motions towards the question that she left hanging high and dry with a slow flick of his wrist.

She stares at him for a moment and it's a while before she says anything.

"No… I don't." She watches his eyes narrow and run across her face. Her gaze falls. "When I came to this world, the Man's World, I mean… I was thrust into this new lifestyle and I was almost overwhelmed by it all. Everything was so new and I… I wanted to try it all. Of course, I still held up my duty and all but I guess… I guess I got lost in it all and before I knew it, I was being swallowed up by the world I had once found fascinating. I was thrust into my new life head on, I was given everything I thought I had desired but it wasn't. It was the curiosity that drew me in and I was determined to be a part of this new world. I had won the war, begun dating the first man I had ever met, and became the Ambassador for my people. It was two months later when Gigantica attacked, terrorizing the city New York. I stopped her, of course… And before the battle was even over I was approached by a man in a cowl and a cape. He told me he was looking for people like me, that he wanted to make a team. My knowledge of the Patriarch's world at the time was half of what I have now so I was confused as to why a man dressed as a Bat would approach me in such way."

He laughs and remembers Bruce doing the same to him a few years ago. Diana smiles with amusement as well before continuing, "Anyway, I had agreed, was told that I'd help a lot of people. We did… We still do. I hadn't even realized I was torn into three, separated and torn apart by all the different obligations I possessed…. I had to stay true to my ways, my people, while also accepting the Patriarchs World and being open-minded about it. There were so many people, men and woman together, united, and all with different cultures and ethnicities… Beliefs. My mind almost couldn't comprehend it. I had never seen something so… Different from my own culture and it was hard for me to accept seeing that I had spent most of my life practically cursing them all. What was I to do? They needed me and in a way I needed them… To move forward in my life. I hadn't realized that I'd be undone. Everyone needed something different from me, demanded something tangible from the remains of… Me. The League needed a warrior while the Patriarch's World desired a diplomat for the Island of Themyscira… And my mother… She desired a daughter, whom of which would soon be the Queen. And the man's heart I hold, desires a woman that I am not. In all honesty, Clark, as you say… I don't do it; I mix my desires with the worlds just so I can get by, so I can at least have some semblance of happiness."

He breathes in heavily, his Wonder Woman merchandise, expanding largely on his chest before it deflates back down to its original size. She watches the movement for a bit, in and out, in and out, he breathes. It's almost hypnotic.

"I understand that you feel as if you hold a responsibility towards this world, that you owe them something… But… Princess..." He stops, rubs at his eyes, and sighs, looking outside the window for a brief moment before turning back towards her. He clears his throat and licks his lips before attempting to meet her own. To his utter disappoint, she wouldn't look at him and she was startled when she heard a low disagreeing growl emit from him. No matter, he didn't give up in chasing her gaze, softly pulling her from her thoughts to be with him. He begged demandingly for her to look up at him. Relenting against his determination she looked towards him. Blue and hazel. She sighed and deflated. Why him?

He tilts his head and she watches as something fierce in his eyes ignite.

"You don't owe this world a damn thing…Especially after they've taken so much from you…" He says and she can see the bright determination in his eyes. "You'll find yourself and when you do… The world will go silent, men will not fall at your beauty but your power, and women will admire what you've blossomed into and hold you as someone to look up to. Your allies will watch on in awe as you conquer what they cannot and your enemies will quiver before you in fear, begging for your mercy… That, Diana Prince, I can promise you."

She can't help but stare at him, in awe, admiration, happiness, fascination, she didn't know what but what she did know was that this man, this practical demigod, was going to be the death of her. Instead of dwelling on it though, instead of thinking of how his smile makes her heart flutter unnaturally, instead of thinking about how his voice makes her something warm pool in the pit of her stomach, or how his presence could cease everything around them. Hera, she sighs. This man. She smiles softly at him, letting her hand fall on his which still holds her cheek, her fingers gliding over his knuckles. He shivers and the smile on his face falls slightly.

"And how can you promise that?"

He just smiles, chuckles a little before leaning back in his seat.

. . . . .

Meanwhile…

General Lane sat at his desk, an overly large cigar resting between his lips, eyes watching the man that sat directly across from with him a critical expression, bushy white eyebrows drawn together and his lip curled into something similar to a snarl. Said man was unfazed, glancing around the General's office with mild interest and fiddling with the cane that rested in his hands.

"You have a very… Interesting office, General." He says, flicking the head of his cane absently against some unrecognizable football player's bobble head. He gives a small smile, not genuine but fully sardonic. "Intriguing, I must say."

The General, with a great amount of control, removed his cigar and sighed. "Be quiet and don't touch my things, Luthor."

"Oh, please, do tell, Lane because if I remember correctly… You said, almost exactly, five years ago that, what's yours is mine, and what's mine is yours. If it wasn't for my, uh, how do you say, magnanimity, you wouldn't be where you are now. So please, continue to play coy, Sam, I'll do the same when you desire some bribery amongst your government officials or you wish someone you have a slight animosity towards to be taken care of." He taps the bottom of his cane insistently and angrily against the smooth floors of the office, successfully irking the General.

Lane practically flies over his desk, his cigar forgotten as he leers at the millionaire. "Do. Not… Bring that here. This is my workplace. God knows who would hear you."

"It is your fault, you fool!" He shouts in hushed tones, shooting up as well, one hand stomping the cane on the ground, while the other points an insistent finger at the General. "If it wasn't for you and your stupidity, we wouldn't be here! I wouldn't be here! So don't blame me for your mistakes! If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't have escaped. The alien would still be in our grasp and he wouldn't be out revealing himself to the world!"

He plops back down in his seat, defeated, grabs the forgotten cigar and stubs it back in the ash tray. His fingers come up to massage the oncoming headache, thumbs burrowing into his temple. "I…I have a plan."

"You damn fool." Luthor spits, fixing his jacket and taking his own seat. "Do you know how much money it would cost to detain him, to bring him back, nonetheless to find the freak? I'd go bankrupt."

"It has nothing to do with your damned money, if you'd listen," The General continues, adjusting himself before holding down a button on his desk phone. "Wilkins, please send in Colonel Trevor."

"Yes, sir."

"I highly doubt that will be effective." Luthor raises a perfectly sculpted brow, his mouth twisted in a look of unsureness.

Lane sits back in his chair; it creaks noticeably with the weight. Wiping his mustache, he continues from his precious statement, "I'm assembling a task force..."

Luthor smiled at him, disdainfully, his pearly white teeth shining brightly in the light, before leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg of the other. "And here I thought the Senator saw that supposed task force void, you bad boy… Or do you wish for my assistance in that matter because if isn't obvious, no. It's time for you to clean your own mess."

"Luckily for the both of us, the Senator need not know about this. I've been contacted by an organization named A.R.G.U.S and they are building a team." Lane retorts, eyes narrowing at Luthor.

At this he pauses, hand stopping mid-air from adjusting his jacket. His head tilts at the newfound knowledge and his hand raises in question. "And what does this Colonel Trevor have to do with it?"

"I'm assigning him to-"The General is soon cut off when there's a knock at his door. He shoots a look at the man adjacent to him, steadily warning him. "Come in."

Steve enters and salutes, spreading his leg a foot apart and raising his hand to his forehead. General Lane gives him a limp salute, not necessarily caring for formality at the moment but allows Steve to assume the resting position. "You called for me, sir."

"Yes…" He clears his throat before motioning towards the man in one of the guest chairs. Steve looks towards him, eyeing the expensive suit, the lack of hair, and the Cheshire grin the man possess. "I would like you to meet Lex Luthor. I would expect you to have heard of him…"

"Of course," He nods dutifully towards his General before turning respectively towards Lex. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Luthor."

Lex immediately stands, tossing his cane to one hand and holding out the other. "No, pleasure's all mine, especially seeing as you're the one who accidentally discovered an island full of, as I heard, beautiful women."

Steve nods with a small smile, giving the outstretched hand a firm shake.

"So, Colonel," Lex begins, as Steve lets his hand go, shoving his now free hand into jacket pocket, "How would you like to lead a totally legal task force?"

. . . . .

Nothing outside of them exists. They're totally lost in each other, talking of random things that come to mind but never an awkward moment. She's tells him of her life in Themyscira, how amazingly stressful it was, how she had to live up to the expectations of all her people. She tells him of her mother and their people, tells him of how she met Steve and Batman. He listens intently, adding a comment here or there that either has her smiling or laughing aloud. Every time, she does, he beams. When the conversation moves to him, he tells her of how he met Arthur when he was three on vacation in the Atlantic. He'd been abandoned, unconscious, floating on a piece of wood that met the beach. He continues on, telling her of life on the farm, being the number one freak at his school, and his uncontrollable strength but doesn't dwell beyond that. She notices, he avoids the topic of his adoptive Earth father all together, just mentioning the brief parts of his existence in the necessity of the story but that was it. She still listens though. His story, she finds, is fascinating. Completely and utterly fascinating. Soon, when she thinks he's rising to leave and her eyes follow him as he does so, the way his muscles flex and bulge in the small form fitting tee he wears and the way his jeans contour to the shape and curve of his legs, thighs, and rear. By the Gods, she wants to antagonize herself for her behavior but she can't. He's looking at her with a small, teasing smile on his face. "Come here."

She raises a perfectly curved eyebrow at his command. "And whatever for?"

His brows wiggle playfully and his eyes twinkle dangerously towards a machine that sits next to him with moving colorful icons with a logo above it. Pac-Man. "I want to show you something… Come on. Our game, which was rudely interrupted earlier, may have ended but we can continue another."

She shakes her head. "I don't know how to play."

"It's simple… Come here." Clark shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out, what she recognizes to be a few pounds. Shaking it in his hand and he pulls out 19 pounds before shoving the rest in his pocket. He watches as she rises and waits till she's within arm's reach before he hands her the change. It jingles in her hand as it falls in the palm. He smiles in amusement when she just stands there, awkwardly holding the change. "Put it in the machine… Right in that little slot."

Diana does so, bending down slightly to insert the change and rises after the last one is placed inside. She tries not to jump when the machine comes to life, the volume turning up dramatically and the dim lights brighten drastically. Clark hums, grabbing the edge of the gaming machine and selects the button that says '1 PLAYER' before turning to her.

"Now, look… You see this here? This joystick is all you need to win the game. Move it in the direction you want Pac-Man to go, avoid the ghost looking guys, and eat as many white dots as you can… Got it?" He asks.

By the time she says no, the game has already begun. She's in control of a block of cheese with a moving mouth, whom of which she assumes is this Pac-Man he keeps talking of. He, she is going to assumes that it's a he, moves around by a flick of her fingers. There are white dots, as he said, everywhere, trapped inside this little maze she was in. She noticed, every time, the Pac-Man passed over a dot, it would disappear as if he had eaten it. Alas, she was so entranced and confused that she didn't notice the colorful looking ghost following her. A red one, to be exact, came up from behind her, and she was startled to see 'GAME OVER' in large white print on the screen.

"What does that mean?" Diana motions towards the screen with bewilderment and pure frustration.

"It means you lost, princess," He smiles and comes up beside her, leaning against the machine that still held those haunting white letters. "In all honesty, I expected Wonder Woman to be better at this."

"Shut up. You gave me one second to prepare and I had no idea what I was doing."

Clark tosses his head back in laughter, clutching his midsection while doing so and she shoves him half-heartedly in the shoulder. He doesn't go far like she expected, just a simple inch before he bounces back, still with a look of annoying amusement on his face.

"Aren't warriors supposed to be prepared for anything?" He mockingly raises an eyebrow and his lips twitch as he fights the laughter attempting to burst through.

"You infuriating man, I was trained to wield a sword and shield, to fight things you couldn't possibly imagine. Not to control a block of cheese and runaway from rainbow colored ghosts." She says and that tosses him into another fit of laughter. Clearing her throat, she continues in a calmer, more collected tone, "I would like to try again."

He wipes imaginary tears from his eyes as he searches his pockets for more change. It's a minute before he manages to find the exact amount before handing it to her. Immediately, she shoves the money in before standing to her full height. Clark notices the determination much to his amusement and motions towards the play button. She hits it and the game begins. He watches as she traverses through the maze, left, left, right, up, down. Motioning to the screen absentmindedly he says, "You better watch out there, princess, that blue one is right on your ass… I think the red one's trying to flank. Get the big white circle!"

"Wha-? What does it do?" Diana asks, trying desperately to focus and listen to his instructions all at once. "Hera, no, no, no…"

They're surrounding her.

"They're everywhere Clark, what do I do?" She asks, practically shouting at him. He moves to help her but the game is already over.

"Come here… You need a pro to help you out." He says, shoving off the gaming system and walking behind her. Her eyes attempt to follow him but as soon as he is behind her, she loses sight but catches him in the reflection of the screen in front of her. She can't help the intake of breath when she feels him behind her, his front molding to the curves of her back and she catches his gaze in their fuzzy reflection. They look, almost, perfect. Like a couple, she notes, with his large jacket hoodie wrapped around her lazily and his body melding to hers. This, right here, is what she imagined with Steve when she was still on Themyscira, when she was in the middle of moving between the Man's World and her own. It seems so long ago now. Then, before her thoughts can even register what's going on, his large arms envelop hers, making hers looking so small and delicate compared to his. He's everywhere then, wrapped around her, his scent overflowing her nostrils and his muscles holding rigid against her own. She has no idea what to do, this is the first time she's ever been held by a man like this before in such an intimate and vulnerable position. Oddly, she doesn't find herself lashing. Has he really gained her trust in the amount of time they've spent together that she's willing to let this occur? What was it about him that made it seem like the whole world didn't exist, as if reality was what they were in and not what lie outside this old and cheap Chinese restaurant? He adjusts his stance against her, moving his hips into a solid stance before moving her head with his own to get a better glimpse of the screen. She wants to be surprised at his audacity but in the end, she isn't. He's such a homey and comfortable person. Trusting. He was so lax; as if he had everything under control and that any second there wouldn't be a disaster that they'd be needed for. Well, she mainly but still. She looked up at him and watched as he shoved his hand in his pocket to get more change. Why him? What was so special about him other than the obvious, of course. He hadn't displayed a single alien skill ever since they arrived. This, whatever this was, was natural. It was almost as if they were human, baring themselves to each other in the simplest of ways. She, without her titles and obligations, he without his responsibilities and debts. Just, Clark and Diana. He didn't hold her up to some high pedestal and she didn't treat him like a freak. It was so easy. So easy to forget about everything else, especially with him. Steve. Her mother. The Justice League. Criminals. The Embassy. Of course, why would this illicit such trust from her? Was it because she knew for a fact that she elicited the same reaction from him? It was ridiculous, almost, the fact that they could easily get along just like that, as if they hadn't just met yesterday and had known each other forever. It felt like that, she noticed. He had seen her soul without meaning to and she, his. He shifted against her once more, moving more to her side to see the screen before tapping a button. She doesn't want to enjoy it, she doesn't want to lean back, and she doesn't want to want him there.

Fortunately, for her the lasso isn't wrapped around her thigh.

"Just follow my lead, right?" He asked, wrapping his large hand around her small once.

"I highly doubt you'll do any better than me," She says, idle minded, withholding the gasp when his breath brushes against her ear.

He snorts. "Let's play then, princess."

Then, he hits start.

It begins as it always does, Pac-Man comes out slow at first and they're given a five second head start before the ghosts come out. He guides her hand, moves it slowly. She can't focus. No, it's practically impossible with him wrapped around her like this. He's given her enough room to move away but the fact that she won't scares her. He continues on, oblivious. He's managed to last longer than she ever did, maneuvering between the ghosts, slipping here and there. Pac-Man eats a dot that's far bigger than majority of the others. Everything immediately changes and her focus is split between his overwhelming presence and the fact that the all the colorful ghost have turned a dark purple. She watches on in fascination as Clark stops what he's doing to chase after the now purple ghosts. And then much to her surprise, Pac-Man now eats them, making them disappear from the screen. For seven seconds, Clark freely roams the map, his Pac-Man now eating the small circles without worry of ghosts. Her mouth practically hangs from her jaw as he eats the last one and immediately white letters appear on the screen: 'LEVEL COMPLETE'.

His arms disappear from around her to rise triumphantly in the air, his body, which she is consciously aware of, on the other hand doesn't move. "And you doubted me," He mutters with amusement in her ear. "Should've known better, princess."

Diana ignores the shiver that racks through her when his beard scrapes against the shell of her ear but spins around, only to be taken aback by the actuality of his proximity. He huffs and she can feel it blow the hair at her forehead.

"You tempt me." She says, bringing her hand up near his jaw and he watches with narrowed eyes as the golden hilt of her sword appears in her hand. He moves her hand to the side and brings himself closer, the fan of his breath moving from her hairline to her nose. "In what way?"

"You're lucky this place has good food or you'd find yourself going through the counter." She can't let him get to her.

"Ah, what happened to that competitive princess, at the Art Gallery?" His brow rises and his voice grows huskier the longer they hold the conversation.

"She's waiting for you to start the game again." She challenges, not showing any signs of backing down.

"So it's a versus now, huh? Last time I checked you couldn't last two minutes alone, barely one."

"Is an inflated ego an alien thing or just you?"

He laughs and it reverberates through her sternum. "I think I've earned my bragging, rights, princess."

"What you've earned is my sword traversing up your-"

"Woah, woah, no need for hostility," He raises his hand in innocent gesture. "All of this can be proven with a simple game."

"It's far from simple if it means the desolation of your ego." She shoots back.

"Hmm, I wouldn't call it ego per say, more like a competitive streak."

"Whatever it is, I'll do the honor of putting it to rest."

"Hmm… We'll see about that now, won't we?"

. . . . .

Hours later…

Diana laughs loudly, as he lifts her with one arm around her waist and tries to keep her from winning. She's on the absolute verge when he begins to cheat, picking her up while allowing his free hand to move the joystick, trying desperately to sabotage her. His attention is split between the game and the princess squirming in his arm, eyes following Pac-Man's movements.

"This is far from fair!" She shouts, trying desperately to reach the controls. He simply angles her body farther from it.

"Sorry, princess, what was that?" He asks, his attention not deviating from the game in front of him. "I can't hear you over the sound of me kicking your ass, once more."

Groaning, Diana rolled her eyes. She thinks desperately of an escape, seeing as she only has three lives left on the screen to win. They've run out pounds and this is her final chance to win. She can't lose to him, not again. Looking him over, she continues to ponder. His grip on her is tight and unyielding, yet his focus remains solely on the game at hand. She has a minute or two before the game is officially over and squirming in his arm does absolutely nothing to aid her, only prompting him to tighten his grip. Then suddenly, a thought crosses her mind and she smiles before going limp. His grip on her adjusts and tightens ridiculously so and she can already sense the worry from him.

"Diana?" Immediately, his mind wonders. Have I held her too hard? Did I overestimate her strength? Did I crush her lungs? No, no, no, no…

His grip on her loosens significantly and she thinks for a minute she's about to fall, but he's there supporting her as if she was a feather, holding her with both hands she notices. She takes advantage of this distraction and reaches one hand for the controls while the other pulls her up. The worry in his brows immediately fades to a crease of one who's been duped. He's beginning to rise and then she sees her opportunity. Placing her hand on his chest, she pushes forward, sending him right through the door. Not bothering to dwell any further, she takes her stand, hands immediately flying to the controls. Using her knowledge and everything Clark taught her along with her tactical skills, she took her female Pac-Man and dominated. Mainly focusing on the roaming ghosts, she navigated her Pac-Man throughout the maze, looking occasionally to see if she missed any of those white dots.

"Nuh, uh, princess, that just wasn't fair." Came a voice from her right, followed by a groan.

Her focus didn't deter, "All's fair in love and war, Clark!"

"Hmm, is that so?" She heard along with some heavy footsteps and the crunch of glass. Just a handful of dots left…

In a flash, he was next to her, taking up his male Pac-Man, trying desperately to catch up with his warrior companion. Laughing, when his hip bumped into hers, she focused entirely on the last few white dots scattering the screen. Bent over his own screen, Clark tried desperately to get his Pac-Man to move faster. Time was winding down and Clark had few more dots than Diana. He muttered a curse, eliciting a smile on her end. Weaving throughout the maze and dodging all the colorful ghosts, Diana's smile grows wider by the second, as Clark's frown grows along with it and alas, he knows it's too late. He tries nonetheless but soon both screens light up with the bold words 'PLAYER 2 WINS!'. Clicking his tongue in his mouth, he runs a hand over his face.

"I win!" She shouts, mouth wide open in surprise and shock. He laughs and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up farther than it was before and watches on as she celebrates, jumping up and down triumphantly with her mouth twisted in victorious smile. Her fist pump furiously in the air at her winnings and he laughs more at her antics. He steels himself against the back of the chair she once occupied, hands gripping the back as she turns to face him.

"Really?" He chuckles, emphasizing the sarcastic tone he takes up with her. "I can't tell."

She does a little twirl and he's momentarily dazzled by the spectacle, the way her dress flows and twirls along with her. It rises steadily around her, enunciating her toned legs that seem to travel farther and farther the longer he stares at it. "Shall I shout it louder, then?" She asks, approaching him.

"No, thank you," He shakes his head and sighs, adjusting his stance. "There's this thing called super hearing… I don't know if you've heard…"

"Oh, shut it," She said, playfully shoving him in the shoulder and settles to stand in front of him, pointedly ignoring the cool breeze that drifts from the now open door way. "You're just mad that I've bested you at your own game."

Breathing in, he says with a bout of mock sadness, "… Two out of three?"

Laughing, she shakes her head, and looks down at her phone. Nearly midnight, she curses. Three texts from Donna and nothing from Steve. Guess that conversation they had earlier settled things for the night. Peaking quickly at what Donna sent her, she sees a picture of a man with barely a cloth covering him and she's instantly regretting giving Donna a phone when she reads the caption 'DOES HE LOOK LIKE THIS?'. Her cheeks flame quickly and she fights valiantly to not look up at the man in question. She knew damn well not to tell Donna about Clark, yet her sister was very tenacious. Moving on, she notices a group text from Oliver and Bruce, reminding her of the brunch. Another text from Barry, asking her to restock the fridge at 'home'. Not really wanting to read over the rest she reminds herself to text back her assistant and deal with the countless number of emails in the morning, preferably after she's gotten the scent of Clark Kent out of her clothing. "I would love a rematch but I'm afraid the time has escaped me… I must be getting home…"

He nods, solemnly, his smile wavers before disappearing completely. She's surprisingly disappointed when his eyes don't meet her own. "Of course, Ambassador. I understand completely."

"Thank you, so much for tonight. Really. I enjoyed it very much so, Clark," She says, moving around him to gather her things. He doesn't move, just plays with the hem of his shirt. "It's been a while since I've had that much fun. It was nice to relax but unfortunately I must be returning to the real world."

"I enjoyed it, as well…" It comes out a mutter.

Preparing herself to leave, she begins to move towards the alley way door, "Tell Mr. Li that I'm sorry about the door and I'll make sure to pay for it… And to thank him for the hospitality."

She hears his scoff but he still doesn't move to look at her, at that her smile wavers. Laying her hand on the handle, she waits a bit, hoping, that he'll turn around and give her one of those charming smiles. Alas, much to her disappointment, he doesn't. His head remains down and his shoulders slouched and she can see the muscles in his arms twitch as he continues to fiddle with the hem of his Wonder Woman shirt.

"Well," She starts out, tucking her things under her arm and adjusting the lasso around her thigh before glancing at him once more. "I guess… I'll see you around, Mr. Kent." Opening the door, she doesn't get one foot out before her arm is grabbed and she's hiked against the door. Diana begins to pull her fist back, her sword and shield beginning to materialize before her arms are pinned on either side of her head and a pair of lips find her own.

. . . . .

I know, I know… I'm a terrible person. But writers block was choking the shit out of me but I managed to subdue it. Called the cops, put it's ass in jail. Hope it won't be back for a while.

Moving on, I wasn't planning on allowing them to kiss this soon but I was high with power and it took me over. Anyway, I hope it was worth it because they won't encounter for a while after this. Hopefully I'll produce the next chapter quicker than this one. I'm sorry for any mistakes. Reviews are loved and criticism improves me so, go at it. See you next chapter.