Lois was in a bad mood. She had gathered the reports about the fight between Luthor's drones and Superman, and the whole things stank to her. It could have easily gone so badly for Superman that there was no doubt in Lois's mind that Luthor had known more than he was saying about the robbery. He had dispelled any rumors about his creations being dysfunction, explaining that he had designed the system to work optimally and that he hadn't expected the robots to purposefully keep humans out of the loop. He went on to say that the incident proved that his robots worked and that there were times we would need to back off and let his machines do their jobs. Lois felt sick. If Luthor played his cards right, there would be an LX5 on every street corner within the next five years.

She pushed her work-brain to the back of her mind as she stood. She looked in her living room mirror, making sure her done-up hair was still off her neck and immaculate. Her dress was black and classy enough to not be slinky. She didn't bother with heels, for some reason preferring not to mess with the difference between height and his. Her strappy sandals peeked out from under her fluttering dress as she walked to the modest mantle and grabbed her small clutch purse. Looking at her silver dress watch, she saw that Clark should be there in about a minute. As she heard the quiet knock at her door twenty-two seconds after 7:30, she smiled inwardly. She wondered what her father would make of Clark. Between his punctuality and his notable differences from the sorts of men Lois usually dated, he might just get the closest thing to a stamp of approval Gen. Lane would ever give.

Taking her silk evening wrap and putting it around her shoulders, she opened the door and froze. Clark was standing there, his hair slicked back as it normally was for work, but the style was different, looking both more formal and very GQ. He wore a nice suit, a noticeably nicer than he wore to work, and somehow Lois got the impression that he had to talk himself out of renting a tux. He stood in her hall, slouched and pigeon-toed, a nervous smile on his face, a dozen long stem roses in his hands. Lois' shock melted away to genuine speechless flattery.

Clark stepped in, his usually nervous energy replaced with a boyish nervous enthusiasm,"These are for you."

Lois couldn't help but smile wider, "I would hope so. They don't really go with your fine suit."

Clark looked sheepish, but pleased, and somehow managed to find the vase she forgot she had and arrange them in a trice. They looked great in her living room. Lois found herself wondering if he would bring her flowers every time they went out.

"You look lovely," he said, his voice even, move even that she could recall hearing it, but still quiet and passive. Lois beamed, "Come on, Smallville. Let's go before they give our table away because we didn't adhere to your timetable."

He smiled too, offering his arm. She took it, and he carefully reached over and straightened a crease in her wrap, managing not to touch her skin at all. As they walked to the curb and hailed a cab, Lois was surprised just how steady his arm was, despite his shuffling, stumbling steps.

As she expected, they pulled up to a nice restaurant, a bit on the pricey side, but low end pricey. Clark was a frugal guy after all, even if he was practical. Her wrap was checked, but not his suit coat, and they were seated directly.

"What gives, Clark?" Lois asked, her tone a touch playful. "Are you bribing the waitstaff when I'm not looking or what?"

Clark smirked, and then an elderly gentleman in a fine suit came to the table.

"Messier Kent," he said in a thick, real French accent, "thank you for your continued patronage. It is my honor. Oh, but such a beautiful lady with you tonight!"

He bowed over Lois' hand, "You are very welcome in my establishment, mademoiselle. A fine young man you have here, eh? Now, let me take no more of your time and please, enjoy your lovely evening."

As he walked away, Lois turned back to Clark, a dubious expression on her face, "Tell me you aren't a frequenter of this particular venue with all of your other dates, so much so that the owner rolls out the red carpet for you personally."

Clark looked perturbed but quickly collected himself, "No, no! Nothing like that. A company was trying to buy out this whole block a while back-"

"Hephaestus International?" Lois interrupted. "I remember. They were trying to buy out this whole block but they couldn't move forward because one business owner refused to sell. That was this restaurant?"

Clark looked surprised, "You follow my work?"

"Of course," Lois smiled. "We're partners."

Clark frowned, "We were partners."

"We still are," Lois said, her conviction firm in her voice. "I wouldn't let Perry split us up, shared office or no shared office."

"Why?" Clark asked, not in a way that made her think he was skeptical or anything, but rather because he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"All of my best pieces were written with you in the byline," she said, glancing over as a server came with an expensive label and poured them each a glass of red.

Clark smiled at and thanked the waiter, in French, which had Lois taken aback for a moment. She was about to ask, but his next comment brought her up short.

"Your most recent article, the one that got you promoted, didn't have my name in the byline," he pointed out.

Lois flushed, almost subconsciously sipping her wine. It was good enough to give her pause before she finally continued.

"The title wasn't my idea," she more or less blurted. "I didn't..."

Lois looked around, aware just how poor a decision it would be if she suddenly expounded that she hasn't slept with someone, as she was about to do. She was just glad that she had only just started her wine when they had this particular conversation. She hadn't thought much about Clark's reaction when the article had been released. She thought he had been upset over losing her as a partner, but she had never considered the romantic implications of that until now.

She glanced at the somewhat sour expression on Clark's face,"You're not jealous, are you?"

The surprise that jerked Clark back caused Lois to guffaw, already heady with the exceptional wine and a lack of food. She managed to stifle her mirth and reach for the breadsticks as she attempted to downplay her outburst.

Clark fought a grin, unable to meet her eyes directly, "What can I say? The guy comes out of nowhere, and the way you write about him, talk about him, makes you seem... almost devoted to him. Like he is this perfect, larger than life ideal."

"He sort of is," Lois said, tearing her breadstick into small, manageable pieces that wouldn't smear her nude lipstick. "I'm not like worshiping him or anything. But I do think he is a symbol we should all get behind."

Clark seemed to deliberate before asking, "But you do care about him, don't you?"

Lois managed not to gag on the bread as she swallowed it, but only just. This was not exactly the kind of material that made for good date conversation.

"Yeah," she said, looking Clark in the face. "I do care about him. We all should. Because he cares about us. He wants what's best for the world. The least we can do is extend him the same courtesies that he gives to us."

Clark looked unconvinced somehow, as though she might be trying to spare his feelings. Without thinking, Lois reached across the smallish table and took his hand in hers.

"Clark," she said earnestly, "I have no interest in Superman. Even if we were both willing to pursue anything, what kind of a life would we be able to lead? He is the man who could save this world and I am just some underpaid reporter whose highlight of the week is writing about it. We are from two different worlds, literally. I just don't ever see that happening."

Clark managed a shaky smile, "You are more than just a reporter, Lois. So much more."

That had Lois smiling, though she wasn't sure why.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Smallville," she said, downing more wine, "but keep it up."

Clark shifted in his seat, "If you'll excuse me. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Lois said. Clark stood and headed for the restrooms. The waiter brought out two appetizers Lois didn't recognize. She was just glad neither contained snails. She noticed that Clark's wine glass was completely untouched. Her's was almost three quarters gone. She resolutely decided not to drink any more until Clark did. Wincing, he recalled the last time her date had drunk less than she had.

Clark returned from the restroom, smiling and indicating that she should eat, to which he immediately joined her.

"I can see why you saved this restaurant," she said around a mouthful of food. "This grub is great."

"I didn't do much," Clark said modestly. "I just looked into the corporation. As I did, the more convinced I was that something shady was going on. The investors sold all their stock back to the company, the only patent the company owned was for some miracle alloy, and while I was putting this all together, the company liquidated, quietly selling all the real estate they had already acquired and disbanded. I never could trace a single employee or owner. Now, no matter what I say, Mr. Bernard is convinced I am being modest. He insisted that if ever I should be out on the town, that I should come here."

Lois smiled, "So, this is where you take all your conquests?"

She meant it to sound joking, but somehow, her tone bobbled and she suddenly found that his answer was more important to her than she thought.

Clark raised an eyebrow, "You aren't jealous, are you?"

Lois's face flashed hot, "No!"

Clark was polite enough not to laugh outright, but only just, before his face became somber, "You are the only woman I have been out with since I moved to Metropolis, let alone brought here."

It seemed a vulnerable statement, and Lois cowed, "Oh. I just assumed, since you mentioned dating when we first met, that you get out every once in a while."

Clark seemed to be thinking some deep thoughts, of the past, "I moved around a lot when I lived abroad. I went out on occasion, but I never really stayed long enough for a second date. I'm sorry that what I said was misleading. There is just something about the way you talk, or, at least, used to talk, that made me so... defensive."

Lois had heard this before. She had been accused of having impossible expectations for the men in her life. She chose to think of it as having high standards. As a result, a lot of the guys she had been with had said that they often had to justify their ability to date her. However, unlike in the past, the notion that she had ever made Clark feel that way filled her with self-reproach.

"I'm sorry," she said, realizing that she had just finished her wine without thinking.

"Oh, Lois," he said, "that's not a criticism; I know you ask a lot of the people around you, but it is no more than you ask of yourself. You demand the best of everyone, most of all you. I admire that about you."

Lois felt suddenly uncomfortable. Flattery was one thing, but this was something else. He was valuing her, not just paying her a compliment. The idea scared her.

"It's nothing, Smallville," she said softly. "Now, why don't you finish up that glass and we can get to know the real Clark Kent."

Lois couldn't have been more pleased with the date. The food was great, the conversation engaging and just personal enough to be familiar but peppered with enough banter to remain casual. Clark was a consummate gentleman. He held chairs and doors, helped with her wrap and offered his arm, never once appearing entitled or asking anything of her that she wouldn't be willing to give. By the time they were in the cab riding back to her place, Lois was already wondering what they were going to do on their second date. The idea of seeing Clark in form-fitting plaid, sitting beside her at a monster truck rally, had its appeals. But as they stepped out of the cab, Lois suddenly realized that the evening was winding down and she had no idea if the date would end with a good night kiss.

Clark took her to her door, and she was almost frantic inside wondering why and how he could be so relatively calm while she felt like she was screaming inside her own head.

"I had a very nice time with you tonight, Lois," he said, and something about his tone put her at ease.

"I had a really nice with you too," she said, inwardly rolling her eyes at how corny it sounded. Clark could say something like that, but coming from her, she didn't understand how anyone could see her as sincere.

The long pause became much longer, bordering on awkward, and Lois began wondering if she could invite him in, just to avoid the possibility of a kiss. She was opening her mouth to speak as he moved in.

She was surprised at first, not sure how to react. When she had played this out in her head, she had made the first move. He stepped closer to her, but no more so than he had the entire night. He placed a single light hand on her shoulder; it wasn't clutching or possessive, but simply as though to connect to her, to validate that she was there and reassure her that he was too. He leaned in slowly, unobtrusively, giving her time to take in the moment and to prepare herself. She was a little surprised as he began listing a little to the left, but as soon as she realized what he was doing, she let her eyes flutter closed and relented with a grateful acceptance. His lips on her cheek were soft and warm, and the kiss was gentle and neat and just lingering enough to cause her heart to surge, speaking of reluctance and a patient desire to draw out the intimate act. By the time he had stepped back and she opened her eyes, she was in such a torrent of emotions that for a moment, she wasn't sure which way was up.

Clark smiled, almost averting his eyes. He said goodnight, but Lois barely heard him. He waited quietly as she fumbled her way through unlocking her door. She smiled shakily back at him, finally murmuring goodnight herself. As she closed and locked her door, she put her back to the door and slid to the floor, trying to make sense of the chaos in her head. Under it all as a deep welling of happiness that she was almost afraid to feel, afraid that it might turn sour just like it had all the times before.

And as she stood, as though her night hadn't been full enough, she caught the unmistakable primary color through her balcony window.

She opened the door and stepped out, shifting her wrap around herself my securely. She couldn't help but sigh as she pulled the door shut behind her, "Have you been waiting long?"

He smiled, "Not long."

She looked at her flats and her lips twisted, but before she could ask, he said, "I apologize for the intrusion; I can see that you had plans tonight and I understand that it is rude for me to stop by unannounced, but I wanted to talk to you and phone booths aren't exactly a regular thing anymore."

She smiled at that, deciding that he was right.

"You're forgiven," she said easily, "but you didn't really say why you're out here."

He pressed his lips, "Actually, my visit isn't professional; I'm here in a personal capacity."

Lois's eyes went wide, her heartbeats spiking. He was instantaneously before her, but still at arm's length, his expression concerned. She was impressed with herself when she didn't start at the movement. He stepped back looking put out with himself.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not good at this, relationships of any kind."

Lois felt her heart beginning to gallop, but for an entirely different reason, "I don't understand."

He looked equally distressed, "I do not ask for your forgiveness this time, because I may not deserve it, but I couldn't help but hear that you think that having a personal relationship with me would never be possible."

Lois felt her face flush and go blank, "I didn't-"

She started to run, to turn and walk inside, to lock the door, and move, to a different city. She wondered idly if Gotham was nice this time of year.

"Lois," he said, and the exasperation caught her up short, "please. Let me explain."

His tone was the only thing that kept her where she was, but she kept her back turned.

"I care about you, Lois," he said, and she could feel his warmth against her back, almost feel him wanting to put his hands over her shoulders. "And not just in a professional capacity. You are an exceptional young woman, and anyone would be honored to have you in their lives. But I understand; dating Superman isn't exactly practical, and there are details about my life that I can't share with you, that would be unfair for me to share with you. It isn't fair for you to have to keep my secrets. It is a burden I couldn't ask you to bare."

"I would," Lois blurted, realizing just how dumb it was to say it without knowing what she would be getting herself into, but she didn't care. "Carry them, I'm mean."

His face held a little bereavement as she turned to him in her passion, and this time he did put his hands on her shoulders.

"Lois," he said, "please. I want you as a part of my life. But we both know that having a romantic relationship with Superman would impose limitations on you that I wholeheartedly believe you do not deserve."

Lois felt so torn. On one hand, she actually liked Clark, something she never truly expected and knew without a doubt in her mind that it could grow into something genuinely good, into something she had never had before. On the other, there was this living god, this walking superlative, this mythical man who wanted her in his life, that cared for her, who had the literal world on his shoulders, who was alone save for her. She wanted to say that she didn't care, that she would set it all aside, damn the world and the consequences, and be his, with him. Except...

"I can't," she whispered, surprised she said it aloud and then mortification returning to her once she remembered that he could hear her. He looked perplexed, which was at least better than crestfallen.

"I don't mean I can't be a part of your life," she said, backtracking. "I mean, I can argue with you. I'd really like to, it's just..."

She could imagine just how hard saying it would be, his face, the distance she would feel after, the sadness, the regret. Even before she could consider saying the words, she wanted to take them back.

"I couldn't do that to Clark," she said. "He-He's a good man. Better than most... Better than anyone I've ever known. If he had your power, your strength, I have no doubt that he would be doing what you do."

She smiled inwardly at the thought of Clark wobbling through the air, bumbling through stopping a mugging. She returned her attention to the man standing before her. He looked resolved, almost satisfied somehow.

"Clark is a lucky man," he said, and she quivered with the depth of meaning he was able to put into those words.

She smiled, "I think... I'm lucky too. I just didn't get it before, but I think I'm starting to."

He smiled and began moving back from her. Again, almost unconsciously, she reached out and he stopped.

"Um," she said, almost suppressing her girlish smile. "Could you still fly me, every once in a while?"

He grinned back, "Anytime you want."

As Clark left the balcony and took to the air, the rush around him could not compare to the rush he felt within himself. He didn't know why he felt the need to visit Lois immediately after leaving her, aside from not wanting to leave her. He supposed, in retrospect, that it might have helped cement the two different personae he portrayed as two different people, but that really wasn't his reason for going. Now that he was no longer in the situation, he realized that he had been scared, that he wanted to know how Lois really felt about Clark, that he had lied to himself about his motives. The thought made him feel guilty, made him want to confess, to go back as Clark and tell Lois everything, but he couldn't. If someone found out how close the two were, Lois and Superman, her life would be so much harder. Already, criminals had proven that they would use loved ones against people they wanted to manipulate, to say nothing of the publicity, especially with the article that had just come out. He couldn't tell her, not yet, maybe not ever. It would make their relationship hard, maybe impossible, but she had chosen Clark. She had chosen klutzy, stuttering, timid Clark Kent over Superman. He would do whatever he could to be with her.