Disclaimer: Forsooth! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the Clois, and it's still not mine.

***

~Then~

"Well, here we are. In the dirt. Just stumbling around in the dark. In the dirt. With only the smell of the Smith Family Cow Farm for company-"

"Lois, the Smith farm is halfway to Granville! There's no smell out-"

"With only the smell of the Smith Family Cow Farm for company, I said! Not to be rude, farmboy, but if this is the sort of date you favor it's no big surprise you're still Suddenly Single. In the dirt."

He was beet red, but she couldn't see it in the dark. Which was good, because she had a way of making sure that moments of embarrassment stretched on into months of reminders.

"This is not where I'd take you for a date," he said without thinking and then cringed because he might as well bend over and hand her the paddle while he's at it.

"Oh no? And just what would your idea of a dream date with yours truly be, huh? I warn you. I'm not one for horse back rides and long evenings spent staring into each other's googly eyes." Her words were delivered in a stinging tone that would have been much more effective had he not been able to see her shuffling forward with both arms out, slightly hunched over, toeing the ground as though walking a tightrope. "I'm more of a do-er than a moon-er, unlike some."

"Dream date with you?" he scoffed, beads of sweat prickling his neck as he tried to keep his voice both mocking and even. If she ever suspected… He was able to muster passable vitriol in response. "Nightmare would be more to the point."

"Cute. Trite, overplayed, and banal… but cute. Hey! I think we've finally figured out what your online bio should be! Clark Kent- Daily Cliché!"

"Lois!"

"What even made us decide to come out to the farm for the weekend? We have perfectly good apartments in Metropolis- either one of which could have housed Pig and Movie Night. This is your fault somehow. I blame you."

"Lois, this was your idea."

"I beg to differ."

"I said, offhand, that I thought I should head back here to check on Ben and how the farm was doing. You said that I wouldn't be able to handle a trip back without a- what was it? A plaid relapse? You said that you were coming with me to keep all your hard work from being eradicated. You insisted."

"I don't have any memory of such events as you describe."

"Are you really countering with 'No comment?'"

Her indignant huff was eclipsed by the curse she shrieked when, in spite of her best efforts, she got caught her foot in a pothole and began to pitch forward. He was there of course, and he had her in his arms before she could even finish the 'uck.' She smelled like coffee and laundry and newsprint and his overly developed senses were individual burdens in moments like these, because he could feel her heat and hear her heart, and he couldn't do anything about it. It was just her, and him, his stonking great secret and the fact that he was wrapped around her in the night. He was so dazed, he thought he felt a hitch in her breath. For a split second he wondered if maybe it felt as electric to her. She couldn't have known with the darkness so deep around them that she was staring right into his eyes.

Then, of course, she ruined everything by opening her mouth.

"Seriously, Clark, if your exposition was as impressive as your ludicrous reflexes, I'd almost be worried about you as job competition."

She was set back onto her feet abruptly enough, with that little rejoinder, but his palms were tingling where they'd pressed against her jacket's padding. He turned and began the walk back to the farm. He was letting his mind spiral through the rest of the night, as he imagined it would go (Probably a little discussion of Monday's article, though it was mostly finished, and just needed a spell-and-polish. Then when he ran out of reasons to keep her up with him, she'd take his room. She couldn't just take his mom's she'd informed him. She'd already bonded with his mattress. And since he hadn't had an opportunity earlier to explore the full ramifications of that image, pondering that would be what comprised the remained of his time before he fell asleep.), so it took him a few steps to realize that she wasn't following anymore.

~Now~

"Hell."

His smirk was wicked against her skin. He licked her neck before replying. "Not what I would call it…" Sloppy, devastating kisses dripped down her collar bone. "In fact… You were crying a different tune a few minutes ago. Something about, 'Yes, God, yes?' Wrong setting."

His big hand slid around the full, flushed curve of her breast and when her back arched into it, and it processed how much she wanted him to keep going, she snapped. No. This wasn't fair to him.

"Hell!" she insisted. "Is where I'm going. No. No! We can't do this." He rolled his eyes and started to lean in again, but this time, Lois prevailed. In a single bound she managed to leap out from under him, taking advantage of his distracted state.

She darted into the bathroom, heedless of her state of undress. He made a noise, but the door had already closed and the lock clicking shut overrode part of it so she didn't waste time trying to place the emotion behind it. What the hell did you get yourself into this time, Lois Lane?

She leaned against the dark wood, pressed her shaking limbs to it, and marshaled her mental troops. She had to fight the insane and counterproductive urge she had to turn around and pounce. She had taken enough advantage of Clark Kent last night, and she had to be strong here. There would be a way to fix this, and it would be very clever, and everything would be alright, and nothing- not their friendship, not their partnership, and not his good opinion of her- nothing- would be ruined. Good. Plan. Not a good plan, but a plan... ish thing. Having an outline, however, did nothing to stop her from jumping a foot and a half vertically at the soft knock that vibrated through her frame.

"Lois?"

"Clark. I am in the bathroom."

"I know?"

"So… I'm here now. So… you shouldn't be."

"Lois, this is ridiculous."

"No, Clark, this is the opposite of ridiculous. The word for what this is may be failing me at the moment, but I can tell you that it is not 'ridiculous.'"

"Open up."

"Now that's ridiculous."

"You can't stay in there forever."

"You would be damn surprised. There's a phone in here. Room service."

"This is not how I pictured our honeymoon, Lo."

"WILL YOU STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT?"

"Like what?"

"Honeymoon. Married. WIFE."

"Oh. Yeah- no."

"CLARK."

She heard a thump, and she imagined maybe he was banging his forehead against the door. She fought back a shiver at the knowledge that only a flimsy sheet of wood separated their bodies. Not productive, she berated herself. Then her knees gave way a little at his next tactic. His voice was low, right near the place on the door that was pressed against her ear. She imagined him ducking a little, bracing himself against the other side with his large, warm palms, and her nerves began a rhythmic, hypnotic jangle.

"What would I have to say to get you to come back to bed with me?"

She bit her lip. Not much from the way the bottom just dropped out of her stomach. Do it? Maybe, 'I'll let you be on top?'

"I'm serious. It's too early for this, wife. It's not even light yet. We have hours before we should even start to think about moving."

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THAT WORD?"

"Lois, I want you in my arms, in that bed, and I want to know what you need to hear from me to make that happen."

"How about 'Wake up, Lois. You're drooling again and the staff meeting is over?'"

His chuckle was dark, but indulgent, and she could tell that he was about to pull out a trump card. He knew he was winning. Her heart was thrumming a mile-a-minute.

"I'm flattered, but this isn't a dream. Now, come out here, Mrs. Kent. Or I'm coming in after you."

She spun around, throwing her full weight against the door. "You wouldn't."

"I do not agree."

"You couldn't!"

"Wrong again."

At the tone in his voice her temper flared. "It would be cheating to use your powers!"