Chapter 3:
Lois was right. The food was delicious. She had ordered all sorts of appetizers, convincing him to try some disturbing looking dishes. And he was enjoying himself. They had both relaxed a bit and had fallen into easy and intimate conversation. The more he learned about Lois the more surprised and confused he became.
"I'm so full" Lois moaned, pushing her plate away.
Clark laughed. "Well you ate enough. I've never seen a girl eat like that before."
"Hey! I was hungry, and I'm a growing girl," she defended herself.
"Really?" He swallowed his remark, and instead tried the ol'Kent charm. He still owed her for that bit out front. "Well, you look great. And thanks for lunch, Lois." He said.
She cocked her head and gave him a funny look.
"What?" Clark asked puzzled.
Lois just shook her head. "Never mind." She glanced at her watch again.
"Okay what's up" Clark asked covering her watch with his hand.
Lois faltered for a moment. "Oh, right. Well, I still have more 'creative' plans that must be accomplished in a set time frame."
Clark leaned forward smirking. "Will I be impressed?" His hand began rubbing soft circles along her wrist.
She pulled her hand away and stood up. "Maybe," she said over her shoulder.
They spent the next two hours at the Metropolis Museum, checking out the different exhibits. Lois began speaking in a British accent and playing the part of an art snob to perfection. Soon she was able to coax Clark into joining her— minus the accent, of course.
Towards the end of the tour, their comments became so outrageous that they had drawn the ire of half the patrons in the building. Clark figured it was time to escape before another person's conversation with Lois turned into a full-fledged argument.
He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Excuse me dear, but we really better be going if we want to be on time for…that thing."
Lois looked up at him as if he were insane. He couldn't blame her. He was beginning to have doubts himself. He pulled her tighter against him and began extraditing her from the group of older men.
As soon as they were outside Lois began speaking. "God Clark! Could you believe those sexist, ignorant pricks?" She asked indignantly.
Without giving him a second to respond she forged on. "I mean really, women shouldn't have their art work prominently displayed? Inferior my ass…" Lois continued ranting, unmindful of Clark's arm still wrapped around her shoulders.
He listened amused, as she went on and on about a Judith Leyster and Elizabeth Nourse and composition, tonality, and illumination and her views on politics and gender. He steered them towards the river path in Metropolis Central Park.
"Geez Lois," Clark laughed. "You're a walking encyclopedia. How you keep getting kicked out of school, I don't know."
She straightened and slipped deftly out of Clark's arm. "Oh, that." She said breezily.
"Well, back when the General was stationed in Paris, I would sneak out to watch people paint and draw. I met a small group of women artists. They were amazing — both professionally and personally. They would let me sit and watch them every day. And I sat there, watching them create some amazing stuff and constantly being cheated and ignored by gallery owners and the good-old-boys club that ran the museums. I just hated theunfairness and injustice of it." She said quietly.
Clark hesitated, unsure what to say, so instead he simply took her hand, lacing her small fingers with his. She squeezed them lightly then turned to face him, her mask firmly back in place. "One of the many things that piss me off." She said lightly.
He smiled down at her. Trying to match her tone he replied, "I'll keep that in mind. Now let's go. I've got an idea."
He took advantage of their linked hands and pulled her towards the park.
"Clark!" She yelped as she stumbled forward, caught off guard by his quickness. "Geez Smallville, some warning next time." She grumbled, trotting lightly to keep up with him. "You do realize I'm in heels, don't you?"
"Oh, suck it up Princess. I've seen you do many less physically demanding things in high heels" he retorted.
"Call me Princess again, Clarkie, and you and junior will be singing soprano for a week." She rejoined.
"That's low" he replied, hurt. He slowed down to walk at a more leisurely pace, just to be safe.
"Oh don't even try it Clark. I'm immune to your 'I'm-so-sad-it-looks-like-my-puppy-dog-just-died look.'" Lois said pushing his face away with her free hand.
Clark couldn't help but laugh at that. He captured her free hand and pushed both of them behind her back. He leaned in close, knowing how much she hated her personal space invaded.
He closed the distance between them, lightly brushing her lips. "I do not have a 'sad-my-puppy-dog-just-died' look," he whispered against her mouth. He felt her smile. It took all his self-control to pull back. Their flirting exchanges were getting dangerous. It must be the Metropolis air, or the food.
Lois opened her eyes quickly, surprised at his forward teasing. Then she remembered her little stunt in front of Senorita Juanita's. "Pay back's a bitch," she mumbled under her breath.
Clark snapped his head towards her, wondering if her words were a statement or a threat.
Lois stared at him, a slow smile lighting her face. "Let's go and check out the street artists, Smallville," she suggested jerking him forward. They still had some time to kill.
They spent the next two hours watching the artists' paint and sketch. Then they picked up some hot dogs and ice cream from one of the street vendors and ate their meal under the shade of a large oak tree. They lay there, talking and joking as the sun faded into the horizon, casting a halo of gold, pinks and purples all around them.
Suddenly Lois shot up, trying to return to a more conscious state. "Oh crap, oh crap," she mumbled, wiping the grass from her body.
Clark sat up, a worried expression on his visage. "What?" He asked sleepily. He had been so relaxed lying on the grass next to Lois, his fingers lightly tickling her skin… He shook his head sharply.
Those thoughts were too treacherous to even contemplate.
"Clark? Clark? C'mon we've got to go. No time to go all amnesic on me" she said hurriedly, grabbing his arm, attempting to pull him up.
She underestimated his weight and went tumbling down on top of him.
"Ooph," The air left her lungs in a rush. She opened her eyes to find Clark's face right in front of her. His eyes were bright with mirth and…something.
Oh no. Bad Lane. Do not look in his eyes She commanded herself. She looked down at his lips. Shit. Even worse. She subconsciously licked her lips, fighting a losing battle with herself.
That did it for Clark. He had watched her internal struggle with interest until she had bit her lower lip, and then moistened them with her tongue. There was only so much a guy could take. It took all his restraint to meet her lips gently. Just as he felt her begin to respond, her lips opening in invitation, something hit them.