Author's
Notes: I'm sorry to say real life is getting in the way. This is more than likely your last daily update. Work has been busy, actually needing me to work and do what they pay me for rather than giving me time to write. That coupled with a number of holiday obligations means my free time is going to be erratic at best. I will try to update soon but no promises on when. Hoping to finish this before the new year is probably too lofty a goal, but I think this little romp will be over pretty soon. I'm not above bribery and reviews make me write faster. They don't help with the real life stuff, but for the writing part, they do help. Thanks for all the comments.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lois knew Perry was going to be out of the office for another couple hours. She was also aware that Clark had been talking to the Chief about something but he wasn't giving her any hints. Lois had let curiosity run her life thus far and saw no reason to change that now. She snuck into the Editor-in-Chief's office and closed the blinds on his windows looking out towards the bullpen. She withdrew a hairpin from behind her ear and was working on the lock to the bottom drawer of his desk.
A click signified the release of the lock and she let out a quiet whoop of joy.
"Are you looking for something, Lois?"
Lois slapped a hand over her mouth as she restrained a shriek. She hurriedly spun around, trying not to look guilty. She was about to make up an excuse when she realized it wasn't Clark that had caught her but instead Superman who apparently came in through the window. She snapped her mouth shut with a click knowing how fruitless lying to Superman would be.
She frowned a little and finally retorted, "What are you doing here?"
Superman flashed the grin that melted Lois's heart. "I'm not breaking into my boss's office and snooping around his personal files, if that's what you're asking."
"Me neither," Lois said, standing up straighter.
"Hmm," Superman commented just watching her.
Lois could feel the heat of his eyes on her. "Snooping is such a subjective term."
Superman just chuckled.
Lois was pleased to see he wasn't as upset as last time but persisted, "No really, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Superman explained. "Those Sweet Little Old Ladies really did a number on you."
"I'm fine," Lois assured him waving him off. "I got my story. They got arrested. Probably saved hundreds of puppies."
"Ooh," Superman cooed in a strangely out of character moment. "Glasses!" He grabbed the familiar thick-rimmed pair of glasses off of Perry's desk.
"Clark must have left them in here," Lois commented recognizing the spectacles. "That's odd of him."
Superman tried the glasses on and smiled at Lois. "How do I look? What do you think?"
Lois looked at Superman wearing Clark's glasses. "Huh."
"Do they look good?" Superman inquired. "Do I look more intelligent?"
"It's weird," Lois said with a frown. "You look like a whole different person."
Superman took them off and then put them back on. "I've been thinking about getting some super-goggles."
"Really?" Lois asked. "Why?"
Superman shrugged as he kept taking the glasses off and putting them back on. "Maybe it's time to update my look. Just a thought. Though speaking of updating your look, I can't help but notice you're wearing pink."
Lois crossed her arms to cover her skirt. "Were you peeking? You promised you never would-"
"Lois," Superman interrupted firmly. "Your sweater?"
Lois looked down and realized that she was wearing her new pink sweater. "Oh. Oh right."
Superman laughed as Lois blushed, grateful he'd seen her in a similar one before so he was able to stay far more composed this time around.
"Do you…" Lois softly asked. "Do you like it?"
The hopeful sound of her voice made him feel guilty. He forced himself to smile and answered, "I can honestly say I've never seen you look… bubblier."
Lois was managing to mix a smile and a frown. "Was that a compliment?"
"It's weird," Superman replied, echoing her earlier words with a warm smile. "You look like a whole different person. I'm glad you're doing okay, Lois." He took off out of the office's open window.
Lois walked over to close the window, when she heard the office door open behind her and she knew she was busted.
"Lois?" Clark asked entering the office. "Did I leave my glasses in here?"
Lois turned around and smiled innocently. "They're on the desk."
"Thanks," Clark reached out and grabbed them. He slipped them right on and saw the nervousness in Lois's smile. He made a show of looking around the office and asked. "What are you doing in here, Lois? And why are the blinds drawn?"
Lois shrugged. "Because I didn't want anyone to see me coating your glasses in poison?"
"Really?" Clark said disbelievingly. He took them off and looked at Lois, before putting them back on. "Is that a fact?"
"Fine," Lois conceded. "I was researching a story."
"You mean snooping."
Lois huffed. "Snooping is such a subjective term."
"You said that already," Clark answered knowing very well it had been Superman that she had used those words with before.
Lois furrowed her brow in thought.
"So I've been thinking about getting contacts," Clark segued quickly. He began to repeatedly take his glasses off and put them back on. He turned towards Lois without his glasses. "What do you think? How would I look?"
Lois stopped and just looked at Clark sans the usual eyewear. She shrugged. "You look like a goofball."
Clark huffed. "I remember you calling me a goofball when you saw me in glasses for the first time."
Lois frowned in remembrance. "Yes well you'd just returned from your stripper quest."
"It wasn't a-" Clark stopped himself. "Never mind." He sighed and just put his glasses back on.
"Mr. White?" Peter called out as he knocked on the door. He stuck his head in the office. "Mr. White?"
"Hey Peter," Clark greeted at having been caught in the boss's office.
"Clark, Lois," Peter greeted. "Where's the Chief?"
"He's not here," Lois answered. "What did you need?"
Peter showed her the folder he brought. "Got some shots of Spiderman and Superman. I figured he might want to use them."
Lois took the folder and was flipping through the pictures. "These are amazing. It's like you're right up in the action."
Peter smiled knowingly at Clark. "Thanks."
Lois looked at one of the shots of Spiderman. She pulled it out to look at it closer. She gasped suddenly and snapped her eyes towards Peter. "Oh my god. You're Spiderman."
"What? What?" Peter squeaked while Clark hurriedly shut the office door. "Why would you think that?"
"It's plain as day in this picture," Lois said with a victorious smirk.
Peter grabbed the picture in question and looked at it closer. He saw nothing indicative. "I don't get it."
"Look," Lois said, pointing towards Spiderman's burnt wrist. She saw Peter was making no effort to deny and knew she was right. "Part of his spider-suit's glove has been torn or burnt off."
"Spiderman got a little too close to someone's heat vision, if I recall correctly," Peter said glaring at Clark.
Clark had the decency to look ashamed, making sure Lois didn't notice him.
"Yes, well, however it happened," Lois continued. "You can see a very specific discoloration on your wrist."
Peter showed his bare arms. "I'm clean."
"Maybe now," Lois replied. "But that's a result of chemical residue being exposed to high heat, like heat vision for instance."
"I still don't get how that's me," Peter questioned, not sure why he was still trying to deny it.
"That discoloration doesn't come from normal household chemicals," Lois explained. "To get both of those you'd need very specific chemicals. Two types you'd find if you spent a lot of time in a chemistry lab and a dark room. One is the same developer I know Jimmy uses, so it seems likely that Spiderman is a photographer. But given the blue reaction you need a concentrated amount of a controlled strong base. So either a scientist or a student. And not a whole lot of photographers are working on their post-graduate degrees in science."
Peter sighed and shook his head. "You got all that from one little picture."
"Well, there's also the fact that Peter Parker and Spiderman both seem to have appeared in Metropolis at the same time," Lois admitted. "And you always get the best shots of Spiderman."
"That's amazing," Peter commented, wondering how Lois could be so observant and yet so blind to Clark.
"What can I say?" Lois grinned. "I have nose for these kinds of things."
"You have a nose alright," Peter admitted. He turned to the other man in the room. "I think you may be right about her, Clark."
Clark just stayed silent, unable to believe how easily Lois sussed out the truth about Peter Parker but could be so oblivious to his own plight.
"Oh Clark!" Lois gulped, forgetting he was even in the room. "Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to reveal your secret in front of anyone." She glanced at Clark and saw him staring at her somewhat frustrated. She leaned towards Peter and quietly suggested, "You know you could probably just knock him in the head a little and he'd forget. He used to catch amnesia like a cold growing up."
"Lois!" Clark snapped.
"It's okay, Lois," Peter assured her. "Clark already knew."
"You did?" Lois spun back towards Clark and narrowed her eyes at her partner. "And you didn't tell me?"
Clark smirked victoriously at her. "Actually I did tell you, but Peter hit you in the head and you caught amnesia."
Clark was mixing up his super-salsa while Peter was on his cell phone, checking in with his better half.
"MJ, it's a night where I can relax and just be me," Peter explained to his wife. He sat down on the couch as he listened to her worries. "Of course it was really Superman."
Peter rolled his eyes and saw Clark was acting like he wasn't listening in. "Well he was flying in blue tights and nearly broke my hand with an errant punch."
Clark went back to stirring his already stirred salsa.
"No," Peter continued. "I didn't tell him. He figured it out. But I'd figured out his secret identity first."
Peter grinned at Clark and turned back towards his balcony. "Work with him at the newspaper? What are you talking about? Why would you think that?"
Peter was getting a little nervous with the direction of his wife's conversation. "Yes, Lois Lane figured it out too. We already talked about that. Clark? Umm…" Peter paused and looked at Clark helplessly. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he knows too. What? What? Why would you think he's Superman?"
Clark groaned from his kitchen.
"Well, I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Peter retorted with conviction into the phone. His face fell at her response and he continued. "Just because I refuse to answer doesn't make it automatically true."
Clark's face was in his hands.
"You know I'd never lie to you," Peter assured her, noticing Clark was banging his head on the table. "Well of course that's why I'm refusing to respond. No… I mean… now that's not fair."
"How does this happen to me?" Clark mumbled thinking there may be Kryptonian forces working against him.
"Listen, MJ," Peter interrupted. "We'll talk about this later. But I just wanted you to know that these others know my secret and I may be telling it to a few more tonight."
Clark was beginning to wonder if this was more trouble than it was worth.
"They're all people with secrets like mine," Peter argued. "And Superman trusts them with his secret apparently." Peter groaned at her answer and huffed, "No I don't do everything he tells me to."
Clark was beginning to have second thoughts about ever having a relationship and a secret identity at the same time.
"No, I'm not his sidekick!" Peter snapped in irritation. "I'll be back after my lecture on Monday, okay?" Peter's face softened too and he smiled warmly. "I love you too. Good night, honey."
Peter flipped his cell phone shut and looked up at Clark. "Umm, did you catch any of that?"
Clark nodded in resignation. "I think I got the gist of it. She sounds pretty curious and observant. Investigative reporter, by chance?"
"Nope," Peter answered with a grin. "She's a model and a soap opera star."
Clark was impressed. "Nice job Peter."
"I know," Peter cheered sounding as surprised as Clark. "MJ's great."
Clark looked at his watch and announced, "The guys should be arriving any minute now. You want to see if there's a game on?"
Peter picked up the remote and began flipping through the channels. "So you really don't play for any money?"
Clark smiled. "Money can get confusing, because we're not all on the same pay scale." Clark's X-ray vision caught movement and he walked over to the door opening it just as the first two arrived.
"Welcome," Clark greeted Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen.
"Don't say a word, Clark," Oliver said lifting his hand. "We've got a bet on this."
"Peter," Bruce announced loudly. "You take all those pictures of spider-boy, don't you?"
"Spiderman," Peter corrected.
"Dammit!" Oliver cursed. "That shouldn't count."
Bruce was grinning victoriously. "The terms were quite clear."
"Am I missing something?" Peter asked glancing at Clark.
"Sorry," Bruce apologized and walked forward to shake his hand. "Bruce Wayne, it's a pleasure to meet you, Peter."
"Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises?" Peter repeated curiously.
"And this is Oliver Queen of Queen Industries," Clark introduced. "These are the two main reasons we don't bet money."
"Call me Ollie. Nice to meet you, Peter," Oliver said shaking Peter's hand.
Peter wasn't sure what he expected, but he hadn't planned on playing poker against a couple of young billionaires.
"Although you could've said 'Hello' first," Oliver grumbled before heading off towards the kitchen having smelled the super-salsa.
"Hello," Peter weakly added.
"He's just a sore loser," Bruce grinned as he sat his briefcase down.
"What did you bet?"
"Loser has to hand wash the other's cod piece," Bruce replied.
"We never said hand wash," Oliver snapped from the kitchen area.
"No, I meant what were you betting on?" Peter clarified.
Bruce considered Peter for a moment and admitted, "I bet him that the first word out of your mouth was going to be your secret identity. He didn't think I could do it."
Peter looked at Clark worriedly. "What makes you think I'm Spiderman?"
"I assumed Clark would have told you," Bruce explained. "I wasn't going to come to poker night, without at least running a background check on you. Knowing Peter Parker has a secret identity makes it pretty easy to guess at just who he is when he wears a mask."
Oliver grinned from the kitchen. "And I just hacked into Bruce's private files."
"That's a lie and you know it," Bruce grumbled.
Oliver grinned admitting nothing.
"Let's get this party started," Arthur Curry called out, walking in the door carrying two cases of beer.
"AC," Clark grinned ruefully. "This is Peter. Peter, this is Arthur Curry or AC."
"Who else are we waiting on?" Oliver asked, in between mouthfuls of salsa.
Clark snapped his fingers. "Bart wanted me to call him once you're all here." Clark picked up the phone while Bruce was digging out the specially prepared decks of cards. "Bart? We're starting."
Peter watched Clark hang up the phone and then open the door. "Peter, I'd like you to meet Bart Allen." The moment he finished, a shirtless young man appeared right in the doorway. "Bart, this is Peter."
"Nice to meet you, Peter," Bart grinned and sniffed the air a couple times. "Ollie, you better not be double-dipping the super-salsa."
"Hey Bart?" Clark asked closing the door. "Did you forget something? Like a shirt maybe?"
"I need a patch job," Bart admitted uncaring about his less than professional attire. "So I'm looking for a big pot tonight."
"What happened?"
"I think it was your friend Chloe," Bart mused. "She was in Miami and we had lunch together. I don't know, maybe it wasn't her. But someone cut nipple holes in my suit. It's in my bag."
"How'd you get here so fast?" Peter asked curiously.
Bart just waved and smiled. "I'm the Flash."
Peter had suspected something like that but was shocked Bart was so forward about it.
"Chill," Bart said noticing the surprise on Peter's face. "You know Clark's secret obviously, and no one's going to try to pry the identity of the Flash from you, when you know about the big dumb alien too."
"Thanks," Peter uncertainly answered, lacking a better response.
"Cards are cleaned," Oliver announced after burning the backs of them with a strong acid.
"You clean your cards?" Peter asked curiously as the six men sat down.
"They're made of lead," Clark said with a roll of his eyes.
"We trade off," Bruce explained. "If I bring the lead cards, Ollie brings reagents to clean them. If Ollie brings the cards, then I get to clean them."
"Some people might be tempted to abuse their X-ray vision," Bart said with a knowing smile, "if we didn't use cards specially made of lead."
"You'd think your word might count for something," Clark mumbled.
"It doesn't," Oliver answered. He then proceeded to mumble under his breath imitating Clark in a high-pitched voice, "Feelings? Me and Lois? Never. Not in a million years. I hate her. She's stubborn, bossy, and rude."
"Sending tickets, boys," AC announced loudly cutting off Oliver as he began to deal. "Leave your womanly arguments behind. You're new here Peter, but we play dealer's choice. And I'm starting us off with a little deuces wild five card stud, emphasis on the stud." He drawled out the last word with a big smile.
Peter nodded and saw how friendly and comfortable everyone was with each other. He knew how careful he often had to be hiding his own secrets and was looking forward to simply being himself. There was just something in the air though that was bothering him. He whispered to Clark, "Is the homo-erotic tension always this thick?"
Bart was beginning to regret only bringing a nipple-less top.