Lois stared at Clark hard. She couldn't figure him out. Here it was St. Patrick's Day and like always she made it a point not to wear green. He would normally try to get her to wear green and pinch her a couple times until she threatened him sufficiently. Later she would try to convince him to get an Irish beer to celebrate and though he would righteously refuse, he would still tag along. Not this year. It wasn't just today. He had been acting weird and less fun for weeks now. She had always thought of him as an uptight dork but in a good way. In the past, she would pick at him just to watch him get hot under the collar or try to pick at her back. He was smart, emotional, and he amused her. Now he was getting clumsy and bashful. The way he acted around her now, you'd think he thought she was going to kill him. Had she finally scared him off? Nah! That would have happened years ago. She guessed maybe he was just becoming a mild-mannered reporter in his old age or rather a mild-mannered photographer. All he needed was a pair of glasses to make the image complete. "Clark!"
He looked up at her for a second than he blushed and fumbled with the photos in his hand. Maybe he was trying a new tactic to annoy her. It was working.
"Are you ready to go home? It's a nice day for walking, Smallville."
He grabbed his jacket and newspaper.
As they were walking down the sidewalk, Clark stole a glance at Lois. Her long, brown hair was being tossed by a gentle breeze. He knew that his behavior was getting on her nerves. He had never been able to properly annoy her before, but now that he didn't want to, he did. Peter said that his added shyness and awkwardness was a positive thing because then people would never suspect he was a hero. They had been walking a long time and he still hadn't said anything. Every time he thought about talking, his heart would speed up and his palms would sweat (and he never sweat). Not Lois though. Her heart was a calm, steady beat. He was going to talk to her no matter how many knots he had in his stomach.
"Have you seen today's newspaper?" he asked.
"Yeah. So?"
"What do you think about that hero in Gotham City?"
"What Batman? I think the guy's crazy."
"Crazy?"
"Maybe eccentric would be a better word. I think that about all superheroes. They have to be to run around in those crazy costumes and have powers."
"Maybe what I'm asking is what do you think about a superhero running around in the cover of darkness?"
"I don't know. I guess it matches him with the whole bat persona and he couldn't see the bat signal in the daytime. Plus, I kind of get the feeling that he prefers the dark. Maybe he had a bad childhood or something."
"So a person who had a happier childhood should fight in the day?"
"No. I just mean that he seems dark. Not evil just dark. A superhero that is happy, go lucky should fight in the light like if you were a superhero."
"You think I'm happy, go lucky?"
"I was thinking more because you're scared of the dark."
He turned a beet-red. She was referring to his Elmer Fudd nightlight. It wasn't so much that he was afraid but that his Looney Tunes nightlight was a comforting piece of his childhood and he liked Looney Tunes because it was funny no matter what age you were. She was right in that he preferred the daylight. However until he came up with the right disguise, he was going to continue fighting in the dark like he had been doing. Spiderman took the day problems, mysterious stranger no one knew about took the night problems, and occasionally they would work together when the situation called for it.
"Lois, if a superhero had to choose a costume, what do you think it should look like?"
"Why the sudden interest in superheroes?"
"I don't know."
"Tell me."
"I was thinking of maybe making a comic book of a superhero."
"Well, to know what he should wear, I'd have to know more about him or her like their personality and powers."
"What do you mean?"
"If they glide or fly, a cape is nice. Tights are practically a necessity if there's going to be a lot of action. Think about what primary colors you might want the superhero to have and what shade. There should always be some sort of personal touch,"
"Like maybe if he, or she, were from far away, something from their culture like a family crest?"
"Sure."
"What about masks?"
"Masks always make me uncomfortable and curious. Why should they hide their face if they're honest?"
"What if they don't want people to know their identity?"
"They should wear their hair differently or put on a pair of glasses."
"Would that work?"
"It might not fool someone like me but if they acted different too, you'd be surprised how many people it'd work on."
"I'll have to think about that."
"Of course, the ultimate costume piece would be wearing underwear on the outside of the costume."
(Lois was only joking but Clark would take it literally and include a belt to hold the underwear up.)
Lois had given him good ideas. He might get his mom to make him a costume like that when he was ready to fight in the day but for now New York City was Spiderman's territory. The city didn't really need two superheroes. He admired the way Lois thought and her ideas. He admired a lot about Lois. He didn't have her up on a pedestal the way he had once had with Lana. Maybe that's why his relationship with Lana had failed. He had been blind to her faults. He had thought she was perfect; a goddess in his mind and nobody can live up to that. Lois was different. She was neither above nor below him and she wouldn't let you treat her any way other than as an equal. He saw the good and the bad in her and he loved and accepted this.
They reached their apartment building and began the long climb up the stairs.
"Have you read about the crimes lately?" he asked.
"Of course."
"Does anything strike you as strange?"
"Now that you mention it, it does seem like all the New York criminals got together and formed some sort of club."
"Or like some huge, underground boss has taken control of the city."
"You're right, but I'm not going to investigate it. Bridget took credit for my Venom story. I'm only doing what is required of me until I get on at the Daily Planet."
Bridget had stolen Lois' story and as an intern there was nothing she could do about it. He had originally thought Bridget was like Lois, but Lois was honest and would never stoop so low. He wished he had the guts to take her in his arms and tell her he loved her but she wasn't ready for that especially coming from him. So instead, he said goodbye and went into his apartment. He thought more about the recent crimes. If he could find out who was behind it, he could impress Lois and maybe Mr. Jameson would let him spend the last month as a reporter.
sss
It was the highest penthouse in New York and the most richly furnished. The red carpet was so thick and plush you sank in it. The diamond studded Swiss clock gave a solemn, deep tone every hour. The paintings that hung on the walls were all by famous artists and priceless. Despite all this splendor, you felt a cold chill go up your spine because there was no love in the rooms. A home had pictures of friends and family or a homemade craft or two. All this place said was 'I'm rich and powerful'. The man that sat on the high-backed, leather chair gave off the same vibe. Any room in his heart for love or hope had long been filled with ice and stone. It wasn't that he was filled with hate and revenge. He thought of life as a competition for wealth and power and crime had seemed the best way to achieve that. What had made him this way? It might have been the way he was raised. Some people laughingly thought it was because he had lost all his hair. Maybe it was both. Whatever the reason, Lex Luthor would go down in history for the crimes he committed and he was New York's newest crime boss.