Episode 4
| Liberosis – the awareness of the smallness of your perspective |
They wandered the busy streets of Oslo, Norway like a pair of dark-haired giants among a sea of ice blonds and light brunettes. Pickings in the Watchtower galley had been slim, offering nothing appetizing. Clark had suggested they head to one of his favorite culinary cities and Diana, still keyed up with arousal flowing in her blood had readily agreed.
The duo bickered back and forth about what they were in the mood to eat and finally settled on a restaurant that served Cantonese dishes with a Norwegian twist. Diana suggested they take advantage of the rooftop bar so they could enjoy the nighttime view of the Aker Brygge, a former shipyard turned hub of restaurants and shops, and the Oslo Fjord. Plus it afforded a modicum of privacy.
They had more food on the table then there was room for it. The server was mystified along with other customers.
"Here, try this." Clark offered Diana a bite of his arctic shrimp salad.
"It's good. Have a bite of this." She in return forked a helping of her plaice dumpling with black truffles on his plate, which Clark quickly gobbled up.
"Aww, melts right in the mouth. Hey, did you know they substitute lemons with ants for acidity since lemons don't grow in Norway?" Clark stated matter-of-factly.
Diana paused in her chewing, "I did not know that."
"Fascinating, right? Anyways, I need to ask the chef for this king crab dumpling recipe."
"The chef is not going to give up a recipe to a random customer."
Clark grinned cockily, "He'll cough it up to Superman."
"Kal, I'm surprised by you. Using your status to get kickbacks and privileges."
"Are we going to act like toy companies and souvenir shops aren't making tons of bank off our images? Stargirl is a whole social media influencer!"
Diana looked around covertly, "All right, calm down. I'm worried the vein protruding in the middle of your forehead will burst."
The two lapsed into a comfortable silence as they ate their meal, making the occasional mewl of satisfaction.
Diana sipped her cocktail and sighed a moment later. There was a matter on her chest she wanted to get off, and who better to share her concerns with than her best friend? "I have to see my mother in a few weeks," she confided. "I can't say this time around I'm looking forward to it."
"Why not?"
"My mother…my sisters they understand Man's World is a complicated and brutal place, but they also believe fixing it with Themysciran philosophy and ideals is simple. It's easy for us to adapt to our teachings because there is nothing else there to challenge or distract us from it. If the vast religions of the world could not build bridges, how could I, a lone woman from an ancient, matriarchal culture effect widespread change for the better? If I try to explain such to my mother, she'll hear nothing but my failure."
"Do you think she would demand your return to the island for good and let someone else become champion?"
"It's a possibility."
"I mean, Queen Hippolyta should understand the dilemmas you face. She is a queen after all," he quipped.
Diana shrugged, "She might understand the rigors of being a monarch and even that of a diplomat, but the nuances of this world would be lost to her. Since I've been here, a lot of good has been accomplished, policy written into law, but overall, Ares' influence is still felt everywhere."
"What do you want, Diana?"
She frowned pensively, "What do you mean?"
Clark wiped his mouth and fingers before saying, "Since I've known you, you've talked at length about your mission. I have another life I can escape to that gives me a break from being Superman. Hell, even Batman has Bruce Wayne as a mask. But you…you're always Diana. Diana is a peacekeeper, a fighter, an ambassador, a teammate, a mentor. Those titles aside, what does Diana want for herself?
"Me? I have dreams that go beyond stopping alien invasions and world domination plots by the criminally insane. I want to write novels one day. Get married. If in any way possible, start a family. Simple goals but complicated because of who I am. So, my question to you is, what do you want for yourself?"
"I…I don't know, Kal. I don't know what I want for myself." And Diana realized how sad that made her seem.
Clark watched worriedly as Diana stared sightlessly at the table.
"We can talk about something else," he gently suggested.
Diana blinked like she had forgotten where she was. "Oh, sorry."
"Don't apologize. I didn't mean to…"
"No, no it's fine, Kal. Honestly. If someone doesn't ask me the question how can I ask it of myself? I need to know what I want. I need to know how to answer that."
"You don't have to figure it out right now."
"No time like the present," she smiled a little and sighed. Diana fell back against her chair and toyed with her food. "There is something I want," she murmured lowly. "Something I want that I cannot ask for."
Clark's ears twitched. He waited.
Diana stared at him—raptly. When Clark swallowed, she heard it. A weighted silence engulfed the table. A thick blanket of unsaid words wafted between them like the sweet fragrance of bergfrue.
"I should finish this," Diana began slowly, "I should finish this before it gets cold."
Hastily grabbing his glass of beer, Clark chugged until it was gone. "Yeah, you should."
Dinner was followed up by dessert and another beer for Clark before they settled the bill.
"Can we walk around a little?" Diana asked as she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her wool jacket. The idea of flying back to the embassy made the delicious food digesting in her belly sour. Admittedly, she wasn't ready to say goodnight.
"Sure."
Walking by the Deichman Bjorvika library, the urban farms, and the fjord they made their way down Torggata Street, checking out the shops that lined the well-maintained Kvadraturen District that was situated between the Akershus Fortress and Karl Johans Gate. Spring was just about ready to peter out, but wasn't forfeiting rights just yet. There was a crisp chill to the air that burned the lungs when inhaled deeply.
There was something magical about Oslo which made Diana feel like she was walking through Themyscira, if Themyscira ever moved into the 21st century. As she traversed the streets next to Clark, their arms occasionally brushing against one another, a part of her unfurled and she fantasized leaving it all behind. Superheroing, being an ambassador, a role model. Just walking away and melting into the rhythm of humanity. Of finding love. Creating a permanent bond with someone.
Bruce had often criticized what he considered her narrow-mindedness because she spent more time in the air than on the ground, that she missed or overlooked key elements of what it meant to be human. She knew what it was about her and those like her that made him uneasy. He feared she might one day use her strength to circumvent human will, eradicate choice. He couldn't have been more wrong about her.
Although…
…in a tiny corner of her mind, she wondered what if he was right?
Nah, Bruce didn't know everything.
Yet, wasn't there a part of her that had no qualms about eliminating dissenters once and for all?
But she would never do that. Kill as the first and only option. Settling matters with words and policies of agreement imbedded in love and compassion, that was her creed. It was written into her nature, and she couldn't go against her nature.
Her nature didn't exactly feel complete either. There was a piece missing. A piece she wanted. A piece she felt crumbling if she didn't do everything in her power to hold it together.
Clark could tell from her puckered brow that she was thinking about something unpleasant. He looked around for a distraction and his eyes lit up when he found one.
He took Diana by the hand, redirecting their steps. "I still have a little more room for a second dessert. What about you?"
"Sure, I guess. Lead the way."
Episode 5
| Opia – the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable
She slipped her manicured fingers between her red lips, licking away the glazy residue of a doughnut. The piece of doughnut he had bitten into got stuck in his throat as he watched her chew and hum at the treat's sugary sweetness. Who knew that watching someone eat could be in a word—erotic?
Diana felt the weight of those orbs that could see through walls, watch cells divide, shoot lasers, and see clear across to the other side of the planet. It was a strange thing that made her feel breathless for one tenth of a second as she met his probing gaze head on. She never questioned what anyone thought of her, yet she couldn't help her curiosity as to what Clark was thinking about her at this exact moment; what he saw when he looked at her. Could he see her blood cells reacting to his gaze? Could he sense just how sensitive her skin felt right at this second?
Clark was telling—no—ordering himself to look away. He couldn't. The hue of her eyes didn't remind him of the morning sky so much as it did this particular crystal in an underwater cave deep in the heart of Atlantis. It had gradients of blue, silver, gold, and moss green. Anytime he saw that crystal he automatically thought of Diana.
He thought of the times he had stood next to her as they strategized or at the end of a mission and the wind blew her hair, and the way those midnight strands brushed against his dense skin. Every time it happened made him crane his head in her direction just a little more. Her accentuated voice was at times a homing beacon when the chatter, the cacophony of the world clogged his ears. And he was far from being blind when it came to her physique. Though Clark would admit to working overtime not to notice every statuesque inch of her. Every coke bottle curve of her.
But the part of his friend he found the most distracting…her hands. A hard squeeze from Diana to anyone else would result in broken bones. With him, it was a sweet and gentle caress. She touched him and it burned. A burn that lingered and lingered and left an indelible mark in its wake.
Diana tilted her head and put down her doughnut. Her blood was heating the longer she and Clark locked eyes. Her knees touched as she squeezed her thighs together under the table. A subtle wind blew and carded through her hair, rushed across her neck, her cheeks, and for a second she wished it were Clark's hands touching her. She should feel ashamed for her thoughts, but she couldn't help it. Didn't want to help it if she were honest. And since she was the paragon of truth, wielded a tool which compelled the truth out of whoever found themselves entangled, it wouldn't look right if she lied to herself.
She roamed his person. His impressive shoulders, his bulging arms hidden beneath cotton, his thick neck. He was the absolute pinnacle of virility. She saw his hands, those large hands tense around his coffee cup. She studied the rounded tip of his clipped and clean fingernails. His knuckles. The veins protruding on the back of his hands. Those veins made her think of seeing them appear on another very private yet aroused part of his anatomy.
There was no masking it now. No hiding it. He was fully in tune with every signal her body was broadcasting. It permeated the air between them, and became as hazy as morning fog. He looked between her lips and eyes and back again unsure what demanded his attention the most. Both.
It was mutual. He could sense that.
Clark's nostrils flared, his chest expanded, and he exhaled a gust of wind that accidentally made a passing woman's skirt fly up. She squealed and quickly flipped it back down.
Mortification had him ducking his head.
Spell not exactly broken, only a little weakened, Diana bit into her lip. She bit harder at seeing how pink Clark's cheeks were.
"Are you okay?" she asked coyly.
Clark was positive if he tried to speak it would sound like he was gargling rocks. He nodded and cleared his throat. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Diana saw that a very thin circle of red rimmed his irises.
"Yes."
Moments of silence passed as they finished their doughnuts and coffees. The night had hit an obvious snag, and neither was quite sure how to get things back on track. This reminded Clark of trying to date during his awkward youth. Despite everything he could do, women intimidated the hell out of him. Diana, in a class all by herself.
At the same time they reached for the napkin dispenser, his large hand overlapping hers. Their gazes caught, held, became prisoner of one another. Seconds ticked off the clock and neither moved a muscle.
"Diana," her name was a breathy whisper on his tongue.
"Kal…?"
"Should we…?
She had no idea what he was asking. Should they take this somewhere more private? Should they simply go on like they've always done and ignore what could be?
Feeling his hand curl around hers, Diana waited with bated breath. "Should we what?"
"Should we fly?"
Smiling softly through her disappointment, Diana pulled her hand out from under his. "Yes, Kal. We should definitely fly."
They stayed in the sky for hours. Teasing one another. Testing one another. Dawn crawled across the northern hemisphere, and was out in full force by the time their feet landed on the balcony outside of her room at the embassy.
Her fingers wrapped around the cold, brass handle, but she couldn't push down on the lever. She wasn't ready for this to end. It was so rare she had Superman like this to herself for hours. Diana faced him, her lips parting, her skin heating as he stole another peak at her mouth. Something he had done a hundred times in the span of six hours.
"Thank you for the night, Kal."
"It was my pleasure. Try to get some sleep."
"You, too."
Clark took a step back yet paused when Diana grabbed the hem of his jacket. He stared at her curiously. "What is it?"
Diana leaned forward. Clark could feel the heat of her mouth. His eyes widened in shock while hers became half-lidded.
Closer she came. The stiffer he grew.
Inches now.
Centimeters.
Her hand let go of his jacket and slid up his chest. She was using him to balance herself.
Clark angled his head and stopped breathing.
Diana was right there. Hovering. Waiting, perhaps.
His move. Her move.
Tottering. A wire coming unraveled.
"Di…ana…"
Her eyes which looked drowsy a moment ago, they were widening. Like she was waking up from a dream. Becoming cognizant of her surroundings and actions. Was she about to…? She shrank back a step and then another. She kept shrinking back until there was the Mariana Trench between them. An apologetic albeit bashful smile teased those lips which had been seconds from coming into contact with his.
In his mind, Clark raged. Outwardly, he scratched the back his neck, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. What happened?
"Good night, Kal."
Diana darted inside the embassy leaving a confused and disappointed reporter on her doorstep.
Episode 6
| Ambedo – a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details |
Clark
Talks of furloughs and layoffs circulated around the office faster than a cold. Investors, presidents, and chief officers had been parading in and out of Perry's office for the last few weeks. Closed doors, raised voices, the occasional thump, no one knew for sure what was happening in that corner office (apart from one and he wasn't talking) but whatever was happening, the repercussions would soon be felt.
When there was a lull in work, associates were discreetly or overtly blowing the dust off of their resumes, revamping them, adding colorful and strong language to beat the algorithm. Journalism had been a sinking ship for the last few years, but The Daily Planet had managed to tread above choppy waters because they had what other news outlets couldn't obtain.
Direct access to domestic, foreign, and intergalactic heroes.
So long as they maintained a record of having premiere access, they would be safe. Yet there was no denying the culture of how news was told and shared was changing.
And the Planet needed to change with it.
With all of the uncertainty happening, you would think it would light a fire under the second, top reporters' ass to make sure he was hitting his deadlines. Well, usually. Today, not so much.
Clark Kent sat in front of a blank screen. It wasn't that he forgot his password, or how to type, or was experiencing a debilitating case of writer's block. He was more or less caught in a daydream.
He had almost kissed Diana last night, and if he didn't know any better, he got the impression she had wanted him to.
So what stopped him? A random bolt of lightning coming at him from the sky—specifically Olympus? A spear or sword hurtling toward his head via Paradise Island?
If he had kissed her, would he have been able to stop there? Would a lip lock with one of his oldest friends create a gateway that led to shed clothing, sweat slicked skin, panting breaths, and wildly rhythmic thrusting?
"Hey, Smallville are you malfunctioning or something?"
Clark jumped and blinked out of his reverie. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he craned his head in Lois Lane's direction. She wore her favorite gray skirt with the split on the side, and white Oxford shirt. She typically wore that ensemble when she interviewed someone from the tech sector. It…irritated Clark he knew that about Lois. Knew how she tailored her outfits based on who she was interviewing or haranguing. He knew she liked eating at Killian's down the street when she spent her morning at the courthouse. That she drank whiskey when she was getting the run around from her sources. He knew she had an emergency cigarette she smoked the day before her period started although she'd claim on a stack of bibles that she had quit.
"What?" said Clark.
Lois rolled her eyes. She really did hate repeating herself. "I said are you malfunctioning? You've been staring at that screen for a solid fifteen minutes. What's up?"
"Surprise you noticed," Clark mumbled under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. I'm fine, Lois."
"Yes, someone who is fine always stares off into space for a quarter of an hour. Look, when's the last time you slept, had a date…had sex?" The last question she muttered under her breath. "If you're losing your mojo I know of a way—" Her ringing cell phone interrupted her spiel of which Clark was glad. "Lane, here," she barked into the device and ambled off to her office.
Clark flipped through his memo pad, reading over his notes. He had six stories he was working on. Unfortunately none of them sparked a crumb of interest.
He packed up his things, shut down his system.
"Heading out, CK?" Jimmy asked as he parked himself outside of Clark's cubicle. He bit into a shiny, red apple.
"Yeah, gonna hit the streets. I'll be back later."
"Need me to come with?"
"No, not today. I'll see you."
Clark ambled out onto the roof of the iconic Daily Planet building. The day was beautiful with sunlight beaming through fat, cumulus clouds. The grass was apple green and freshly mowed. Life moved as it should. Cycles upon cycles, and that knowledge should have centered him, anchored him to the here and now, but he couldn't stop thinking about the other night.
He needed to see Diana.
Pulling his shirt open and revealing the vivid red S underneath, he swiftly morphed into his uniform and was in the air in .2 seconds.
No one could hide from him unless they lived in a lead-lined house. Batman did, but he was the exception. Flying up to the stratosphere, Superman scoured the earth checking the obvious places: DC, New York, Boston, San Francisco, London, Paris. He saw no sign of her. He was tempted to hail the Tower to get a fix on her location, but thought better of it. Whoever was on duty probably wouldn't think much of it, but it also took next to nothing to start speculation.
Sweeping other cities and countries, Superman found her. Well, he had to do a double take because there was a woman about Diana's height, build, and coloring. Her armor was nearly identical to the more traditional Themysciran armor Diana had taken to wearing as of late, ditching her star spangled bloomers for ancient Afro-Asiatic and Indo-European garb. This woman's armor was black and purple.
Frowning, he tuned his hearing to what was unfolding in Opal City.
"She's a fake. She's not the real daughter of Hippolyta! I AM! She's a clone. Listen to me!"
"All right, watch your head."
Blood dribbled from her nose and from a cut above her left eyebrow. Flash photography blinded her and burned her humiliation into memory cards. Bound with her hands behind her back, she was led to the waiting police van.
Superman frowned because he didn't know what in the world was going on. Some woman was accusing Diana of being an imposter? That same woman was proclaiming to be the real daughter of Hippolyta?
"She is not the firstborn daughter of Hippolyta! Wait, no listen! Heracles got Hippolyta with child. A child she was ashamed of bearing because of how it was conceived, and feared aborting because Heracles was Zeus' bastard. She carried the baby and had it hidden away by Hermes upon its birth. I am that child! Listen to me!"
Diana came into his view then, standing next to one of the arresting officers, a look of weary concern marring her features. "Be careful with her. Make sure she doesn't harm anyone or bring harm unto herself."
The disturbed woman snarled at the sight of Diana and tried to lunge for her, kicking an officer in the chest that sent him flying to the other side of the van while he was trying to shackle her ankles.
Officers swarmed the van, climbing in, in a tangle of arms and legs trying to subdue the woman.
Superman had seen and heard enough. He bolted to Opal City.
"Contain her!" Officers shouted.
Two went flying out of the back of the van. Diana caught them both like footballs, settling the dazed men on their feet. She detached her lasso from her hip, ready to use it to subdue the woman for good.
The woman who called herself Hermia in honor of the god she said saved her from being thrown to crocodiles, had been an exceptional fighter.
The overturned cars, downed powerlines, broken windows, and smashed edifices was proof of her prowess, but the Amazon had gotten the upper hand.
Wonder Woman felt the air to the left of her become colder and thinner, the molecules shifting crazily before settling into place. She stared at his looming shadow on the road before craning her neck and looking up as he floated some fifteen feet above her head.
Wonder Woman turned to face Superman. His red cape billowed around him while his arms remained at his sides, his hands balled. He wore a boyish smirk that belied the concern deepening the blue of his eyes.
"What's the trouble?" he asked in his authoritative voice.
"Nothing I can't handle." Wonder Woman swung the lasso, but the officers had managed to get Hermia shackled, and the doors closed and bolted.
Bystanders eagerly recorded the fiasco, their excitement that Superman was on the scene doubled the crowd.
Reattaching her lasso, Wonder Woman looked at her dearest friend once more. He still hovered in the air with his massive arms now folded across his equally colossal chest.
"I've called in for cleanup," he informed. "They're enroute right now."
"Thank you."
"Is there anything else that needs to be done?"
Wonder Woman looked at the news vans that had arrived at some point. Guess she would have to give a statement. "Just dealing with the press. As usual. Shouldn't you be at work?" she whispered that last question.
"I was at work, but I wasn't being the most productive…We need to talk."
"We do?" Her tone was coy.
Superman's lips thinned, "You know we do."
Seeing he wasn't exactly in a playful mood, Diana sighed, "All right. I'll meet you later."
"Our spot?"
Heat infused inside of her cheeks, but she gave an imperceptible nod.
With that, Superman flew away.
Episode 7
| Agnosthesia – the state of not knowing how you really feel about something |
They met in the spot where they first met alone. That day there had been patches of snow and ice on the ground, a mist to the air, but silence and peace for miles. Today was no different. The snow and ice had been replaced with luscious green grass and flower bushes bursting with color.
Quietly they touched down, two pairs of boots walking through the grass and flowers as if a part of nature. The scent of honeysuckle, azaleas, and pollen infused the air while katydids endlessly sung for a connection.
Diana leaned against a pillar of a recently constructed gazebo, wrapping her arms around her middle, expectant but nervous as to what Superman wanted to talk to her about. She had her hunches and was hoping she'd be proven wrong, but her gut never failed her. It was telling her he wanted to discuss the other night. However, there was something more pressing on her mind that she wanted to get into first.
"Do you think it's possible she, the woman I fought earlier, could have been telling the truth?"
Superman, a little disheartened but relieved this was how their conversation would start, came to stand behind her, "I think she wants to believe that is the truth. Those who suffer with delusions, it's best not to indulge them. If you want the truth, you know where to go."
Yes, home.
"You could use the lasso," he hinted.
"I could and I might. I think I might need to prepare myself first."
"If I were you, I wouldn't let it get to you, Diana. If only you knew the sheer number of people who believe they're either my biological parents or siblings, it would make your head spin. One woman who keeps sending letters and emails believes she's my wife. Scolds me for leaving my cape on the floor and the toilet seat up."
Diana chuckled a little. She faced him then. "Yes, but in my world, her story wouldn't be too far-fetched. I know my mother, but there is a lot I don't know about her. I was five hundred years old before she told me I was the splitting image of her deceased sister. If she could keep something of that magnitude from me for so long, what other secrets could she be hiding?"
"I don't know. Like I said, all you can do is ask her."
Diana nodded. She would be leaving for Themyscira in a few weeks. She would broach the subject then, if her mother would give her room to talk after filling in her report of making Man's World hospitable for all.
"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Diana began pensively seeing no more reason to stall.
Superman forced a cough. Right, the matter they needed to discuss. He searched the ground for a moment unsure of how to voice what he wanted to bring up. "The other night…things between us felt…different," he explained lamely.
"Different good or different bad?"
"Just…different."
"Kal, the journalist in you should be ashamed. Speak plain."
Superman whistled out a breath, "Different good. It had been a nice evening. But I realized something that should have occurred to me then. How flushed you were. Your levels…had been elevated."
Diana mused it sometimes didn't pay to be best friends with a man who had super senses. It made being low key difficult.
"Was anything going on with you I should know about?" he pried.
How could she put that explanation into words, she didn't know. "What are my vitals saying now?"
Superman looked startled. The fever for Diana had diminished but like striking a match, at the mere thought of it, a flame grew within her, warming her, pulsing in her veins. She had better control of it now. There would be no more close calls like with Dinah in the locker room, or even that moment when she said good night to Clark.
"There are phases the women of Themyscira go through, Kal. I was just going through such a phase."
"Vague explanation."
"Not one I wish to elaborate on either."
His voice lowered an octave, "You would tell me if something was wrong, right?"
"You don't even have to ask. Don't I come to you for most things?"
"Yes," he agreed but tacked on mostly to himself, "after asking Bruce." He ignored the old jealousy that liked to inconveniently flare up. Superman was aware that Diana went to Batman to handle the things she knew conflicted with his mores.
"I just hoped the issue I was dealing with…I didn't make you uncomfortable." She draped a warm hand on his shoulder.
"You're one of my oldest friends. I could never be uncomfortable around you. I was having a bit of a weird day myself."
"Weird in what sense?"
Reticence snatched Superman's tongue. Being vulnerable wasn't as hard for him as it was for other people. Diana was someone he never had to pretend to be strong for, but he couldn't fully admit to what had been bothering him up until they had gone to Oslo. He leaned on the railing with his attention stapled on the horizon.
"Do you feel like you have to live up to the version people have made up about you in their heads?" was his question.
Gripping a pole of the gazebo, Diana swayed a little. "At first I didn't really care how people saw me," she admitted. "I was secure in who I was born and raised to be, yet this world. The constant criticisms, the nitpicking, being propped on pedestals, it can take a toll, start to affect how you see yourself. Dims the lens, so to speak. But, Kal, if I tried to tailor myself to people's expectations, I'd no longer exist. I would just be a copy of someone's narrative and not myself. You put too much pressure on yourself to be everything to everyone."
"It's hard not to."
Diana pivoted until she stood next to him and mimicked his stance, leaning her weight on the railing, "What is it that people say Superman can't be or have that's bothering you?"
Superman searched her eyes. Diana returned the favor.
They say I can't let go. They say…I can't have someone like you, Diana.
"To the world and to my colleagues I'm the man that has everything. I don't have everything. Not even close. I want…more."
"Then have more." Diana bumped her shoulder into his.
"You make it sound simple."
"It can be simple. If you would just learn to get out of your own way."
"Is that all I have to do, eh?"
"Yes."
He would heed her advice. Starting right now.
"Why don't we head back to my place?" Superman straightened. "We can order Thai, watch a few movies. Relax."
Diana stared at him from beneath her full lashes, lips ticking up at the corner. "You want to spend more time alone with me, Kal?"
The Man of Steel blushed nearly as red as his cape. "N-no, that's not, I'm not—"
"It looks like you might need to relax more than I do." Diana cut off his stammering with a mischievous smile. She wrapped her arm around his. "It has been a while since I've been to your place. Let's go."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"All right." Superman levitated off the ground, extended his hand.
Diana ascended slowly. Her fingers only brushing his as she kept going until she now floated above him. With a smile, she barrel rolled, extended her hands, and went into warp.
The sonic boom she left in her wake made Superman shake his head as he burst after her, breaking more than just the sound barrier.
They took the scenic route, chasing one another, flying to the outer layer of Earth. They dove down headed for the Indian Ocean pulling up at the very last second, the tips of their boots skimming the surface of the water. They were like dolphins in the sky.
An hour later they cleared Metropolis airspace. Flying side-by-side they split apart to let a Delta passenger airplane pass. Diana laughed at the startled faces that gaped at her out the windows, offering a wave before banking left and rejoining Superman.
Lowering their altitude she could start to make out individual communities and streets. The shingled roofs of homes and the concrete surfaces of commercial properties.
Banking northwest, they were encroaching on Clark's neighborhood. The homes were a bit older, many of them having been built in the late 80s early 90s and separated with wooden or chain link fences. People walked along sidewalks that dipped or elevated at random because of tree roots fighting for their own real estate. There were more mom and pop stores per square mile than nationwide chain stores making the area feel quaint and charming.
The building Clark lived in was a beige stucco ten story walkup. For obvious reasons, he lived on the top floor.
He and Diana landed on his tiny wrought iron balcony. He held out his hand letting her climb through his bedroom window first.
Diana jumped down inside the apartment, taking care not to land too heavily or else she'd create a crater in the floor.
Superman climbed in behind her watching as she gave his bedroom a thorough appraisal. His gaze landed on his king sized bed, which he immediately looked elsewhere. At least he was thankful he had the foresight to clean his apartment last night. It had been looking like an utter disaster beforehand. He still needed to do his laundry and, using his x-ray vision, he was relieved there weren't that many dirty dishes in the sink. Just the frying pan, plate, glass, and silverware he used this morning to make breakfast.
"I'll get you something to change into."
Diana waited patiently while Superman moved to his dresser and rummaged around, pulling out a neatly folded white T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that he handed to her.
"Do you want to shower?" he offered.
"No, thank you."
"All right, you know where it is if you change your mind." Clark grabbed a handful of clothes for himself. "You can change in here. I'll head for the bathroom." He closed the door upon his exit.
Her broadsword, armor, and boots hit the floor. She took off her tiara, detached the lasso, and stacked everything on his desk chair.
Diana plopped down on the pillow top mattress, running her hand across the cool gray duvet. Her gaze drifted up to the framed movie poster on the mint green wall, smiling softly. It was a poster of E.T. the Extraterrestrial. Cute.
Reaching for the shirt Diana slipped it on, covering her frame with cottony soft fabric that whispered along her bare skin. Sighing as the material brushed over the distended tips of her breasts, her toes curled against the hardwood floor.
She began to wonder about the possibilities if she had come here that night the fever had been at its highest. If she had climbed through the window and found Kal asleep in his bed. He would have woken up, hair tousled, puffy cheeked, and maybe gloriously topless. She was not ignorant of what made him one of the most beautiful men to know, but it had been simple to ignore what others could openly appreciate. To remain objective. To have a strong reign on her emotions, and to remember her training. Distractions were deadly to a warrior, and there was no bigger distraction than Kal-El of Krypton. Yet she wondered how that scene would have played out. He'd be concerned—that was a given—but would he have…? Would she have been able to tell him of her real affliction and let him help?
Unbeknownst to the Amazon, her cheeks were bright pink at the possibility.
Rising from the bed, she straightened out the wrinkles left on the duvet and slipped from the room, being led by the sound of Clark's humming.
He was in the kitchen banging around. Stripped out of his uniform, a snug black tee clung to his trapezius muscles, hugged his triceps, and deltoids. Loose gray sweatpants contoured to his firm ass. His feet were bare. His glasses sat perched on the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room, and his raven hair was tousled. Diana took everything in, nostrils flaring, and heartbeat quickening. Clark paused for a second having heard the change in her cardiac rhythm.
He turned his head but a fraction, "You okay?"
"Mm-hmm. I'm fine."
"Don't be shy. Make yourself at home. I just need to take care of these dishes."
Diana wandered into the living room, hands behind her back.
The room itself was intimate and well lived in. The first thing Diana noticed, there were a few more plants than the last time she was here. There were three new additions if she weren't mistaken. She was reminded that it had always kind of prickled Clark's conscience that he didn't go into the family business of full-time farming. His parents had not pressured him, had supported his decision to study and go into journalism. Yet underneath his pride was a vein of censure he let not only his parents down but also the Kents who came before him. To rectify this error, he cultivated a garden at the fortress, and had his own in-home nursery of sorts right here in his apartment.
"Kal, you have three new kids," Diana remarked.
He leaned back a little in order to see her from the kitchen, "Good eye. The philodendrons you're standing in front of is Michelle. Elle, the snake plant is on the top shelf to the right, and Lara, the ZZ plant is on the bottom left."
Diana ran her fingers over Lara's pinnate petal before moving on to scoping out the rest of the room.
A forgotten cup of water rested on the coffee table made of dark wood. The jacket Clark wore when they had dinner in Oslo was thrown over the arm of the molasses colored couch that faced a fireplace, the façade blackened by soot, but nonetheless added a nice splash of character. She wandered over to the built in shelves that expanded the entire south wall. Lined with tomes, one section was dedicated to photographs.
All the usual suspects were there. Pictures of Clark driving a tractor; he was about sixteen then, sweaty, disheveled but smiling goofily. Him leaning against his first car. Photographs of him standing between his beaming parents as he graduated high school and then college. Pictures of him with work colleagues. A picture of the two of them sitting on the steps of his family's porch, bright wide smiles on their faces.
Her eye caught and held on two faded black and white photographs.
"Who are these pictures of?" she asked.
Clark entered the living room. She inhaled as he sidled up next to her, peering at the photographs in question.
Clark pointed to the photo on the left featuring a smartly dressed couple standing in front of a church. "Those are Ma's parents, Lily and Jackson McKinley. And they," he pointed at the photo on the right, "are Pa's mom and dad. Millie and Joseph Kent. Ma found those when she was cleaning out the attic and wanted me to have copies."
"They're both handsome couples."
"Yeah."
"Pa Kent is the splitting image of his father."
"He is."
"Did you know them?"
Clark sighed. "Ma's parents were already gone by the time I was found. Grandma Millie died a few months after I was adopted. I did meet Grandpa Kent. Only a few times when I was a baby. He was soft-spoken but could also be a hard ass. Right up until he passed."
"Did he know who you truly were?"
"No. Ma and Pa kept a tight lid on things, skirting the truth as much as their conscience allowed. I'm not sure if my sudden appearance in Ma and Pa's life created any kind of strain with my grandparents, but I spent a good chunk of my childhood isolated and alone because they were terrified of my secret getting out. I mean, eventually I made friends, and the older I got the less my folks worried about the government showing up on their doorstep. Though there were incidents," Clark shrugged ruefully. "They couldn't be helped."
"Yes, but did Grandpa Kent treat you with kindness?"
"He did and that's all I could ever ask for."
Diana said nothing as Clark lumbered back to the kitchen where he opened up a cabinet and took out two wine glasses, and unearthed a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge.
Together they met at the sofa where they sat close together. Clark uncorked the bottle, poured.
"Thank you," Diana inhaled the woodsy fragrance of the merlot. "I wish I had known my grandmother…Queen Otrera."
"Reputed founder of the shrine of Artemis in Ephesus."
Diana smiled, impressed but unsurprised Clark knew that. "That would be her. My mother would share little anecdotes here and there about her girlhood and the tuition she received, but she never said more than what she was comfortable with sharing in terms of the relationship she had with her mother. When I'd ask questions she'd just remark 'It's ancient history'. I believe the lack of relationship between herself, and Queen Otrera is why my mother was so possessive of me when I was a child. She'd let me roam, explore, and showcase independence…within limits. Anytime I began to feel suffocated, I'd let my temper get the best of me. Yet I can't help but wonder if she kept me close because she knew one day I would want a life beyond the shores of Themyscira."
"More than likely. We want to protect the people we love from harm. I wonder if it's just a way to keep from being left behind."
"My mother and sisters will always be around. Unless they're called to Olympus, but I don't ever see that happening. If anything, I might end up being the one left behind."
"You won't be because you'll have me," Clark said the implication clear they might be the only two left standing several decades or centuries from now.
The realization soaked into the both of them as they searched each other's eyes.
Swallowing thickly, Clark reached for his cell that was charging on the end table. "I—ah I should put in the order at Thai Palace. Anything in particular you want?"
"Oh, um, I could eat everything on the menu, so whatever you select is fine."
"Cool…Ah, hi yes good evening. I'd like to place an order for delivery…"
A/N: Thank you for reading, following, liking, and leaving feedback! See you again soon.