Sorry about the long wait for an update. I've been working a lot lately, and I had a hard time getting their date exactly right. Apparently, sixteen hour work days can suck the Lois right out of me. Incidentally, the conversation she listens in on is one I actually overheard while at work. I kid you not. Read and enjoy, and, as always, feedback will make me love you forever!
May
"Face it, Lane. You're in over your head this time," Lois said to herself with a sigh as she stepped back and glared balefully at her day's work. A few days before, she had gazed around at the walls of her kitchen and decided yellow would be a more cheerful color than white to stare at every morning over a bowl of cereal. To that end, she bought a gallon of paint and some necessary supplies and waited in eager anticipation for Saturday to come around so she would have time to tackle her project.
On the much-anticipated morning, it only took her about three hours to realize that painting was not nearly as enjoyable as she'd thought it was going to be. She had barely a wall and a half done, and she was almost ready to throw in the towel. Paint had dripped on every conceivable surface (thankfully, she'd had the foresight to buy drop cloths to protect her kitchen from paint splatters. Sadly, her person was under no such protection, and it showed) and her back and shoulders were sore from the strenuous work. Just when she was wondering if she could get away with flinging a gallon of paint at the wall and calling it "modern art", there was a knock at the door. Grateful for the distraction, she ran to answer it.
With a wide smile, Lois threw open the door to find her partner on the other side. She didn't know how he always managed to show up just when she needed him most, but she wasn't complaining. "Clark! I'm so glad it's you!" she exclaimed as she grabbed his hand and literally yanked him into her apartment. He gave her a bemused look as she dragged him across her living room and into her kitchen, where she gestured dramatically at the walls. "Ta daaa! Well, what do you think?"
He looked over her work, then nodded towards the halfway-finished wall. "You missed a spot."
She glared at him as she brushed a rogue wisp of hair off her forehead, then scowled when she realized she probably left paint behind in its place. "Okay, Smallville, just for that, you get to help! Now, don't just stand there gawking. Grab a brush! The walls won't paint themselves, you know."
Her companion looked over at her and rolled his eyes before saying, "You know, Lois, I'm not exactly dressed…"
Unwilling to let her co-opted volunteer out of her clutches, Lois gestured impatiently towards the hallway to her bedroom. "Your clothes are in the closet. Don't worry; I'll wait for you!" she assured him.
Since they had begun working together, Lois and Clark had gotten in the habit of leaving a change of clothes or two at the other person's apartment. While this had originally been intended for emergency situations, saving time when they had gotten themselves into a messy situation (to be honest, Clark would say that Lois had been the instigator most of the time; Lois flatly denied this charge) and didn't both have time to run home to change before heading off to work at the Planet, it had progressed to something more. Now, they each had enough clothes at the other's apartment to be covered in any situation, from rushing off to an interview at work to lounging around the apartment to watch television in comfort. They'd never discussed their little arrangement, or the implications of it; it was another of those little things that had simply happened over time.
With a long-suffering sigh and in a halfway teasing tone, Clark mumbled something under his breath about a certain high maintenance partner of his. As usual, Lois ignored him, and she smirked as she turned back to her work on the wall, waiting for him to return. For all of his complaining, she knew that if he really minded helping her, he would have said so. And while Lois would sooner chew broken glass than pass up an opportunity to tease him, she appreciated his help and companionship.
Working together, the two of them managed to complete the project much sooner than Lois had anticipated, although they goofed off at least half the time and got almost as much paint on each other as they did on the walls. When Lois got paint on her hands, she'd wipe them on the old t-shirt Clark was wearing. When he wanted to check if he had too much paint on his roller, he'd shake it briskly in it her direction. In fact, joking around with Clark kept her entertained enough that she didn't much notice the passage of time. Finally, when the only sections of the wall that had not yet been painted were the areas above the cabinets, Lois jumped on the counter to finish the job. It didn't come as any great surprise when Clark moved to stand below her.
"Look, Lois, maybe you should let me get that," he offered as he eyed her precarious perch.
"Nonsense, Clark. You don't like heights, and they don't bother me," she retorted without looking his way as she stood on her tiptoes and carefully moved her roller along the wall.
"I actually don't mind them much anymore," he contradicted her, still obviously uncomfortable with her position.
She snorted as she moved down a few feet. "Right. Look, Smallville. What do you think is going to happen? I've flown with Superman before. I think I can handle standing five feet off the floor."
"Right, but isn't Superman doing most of the work when the two of you fly together? Now it's just you and gravity, and I've seen you lose that battle before."
Lois rolled her eyes, even though her companion couldn't see the gesture, and said, "And if Superman were here, I'd ask for his help. Since he's not, I think I'll manage. Besides, I'm almost finished." With a final swipe of her roller, she tilted her head to the side to look for thin spots, then cried, "Done!" Triumphantly, she passed her roller down to Clark, who laid it aside before grabbing her around her waist and helping her to the floor. When he had put her back on the ground, Lois stretched to remove some of the kinks from her back and gazed proudly at the result of their efforts. Absently, almost as an afterthought, she asked as she did so, "By the way, what brought you here today? I doubt you came over to help me paint my kitchen." When he didn't answer, however, she turned to look expectantly at her companion.
Lois's eyebrows raised in response to the long, searching look her partner was giving her. For a moment, she thought she might have to poke him with a sharp object to break him out of his train of thought. "Earth to Clark! Come in, Clark!" she called, waving her hand in front of his face.
With a small shake of his head, he finally spoke. "Oh, it was nothing, really. We can talk about it later." With an obvious glance at his watch, he continued, "I really have to go. I have an…appointment this afternoon, and I really don't want to be late."
"Oh. Okay," she responded slowly. That was definitely unusual. Well, not the sudden inexplicable disappearing act he was about to pull (that, she had come to realize, was just part and parcel to the whole Clark Kent experience), or even the slightly unbelievable excuse for him to do so. There was just something strange about his behavior – and, since he was Clark Kent, King of All Things Odd, that was saying a lot.
Now he definitely looked uncomfortable. "Everything's fine, Lois," he lied. Clark had always been a terrible liar.
With a groan, Lois said quickly, "Oh, God, you're not in some kind of trouble, are you? You know, if you are, you really should talk about it. I don't know that there's anything I can do, but we are partners, after all, and…"
"Lois, I'm not in any trouble," he cut in. He paused for a moment; then, stammering a only a little, he admitted, "A-Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to dinner with me tonight."
Still fixing her partner with a wary look, Lois repeated, "Dinner?" as if the word were alien to her. "Is that all?" Clearly still skeptical, she shook her head slightly, chuckled, and shrugged. "Sure, I'll go to dinner with you Clark, but you're buying." She looked down at her paint-spattered clothes and wrinkled her nose. "And maybe tomorrow night would be better, if you don't mind. It might take me at least that long to get decent. I'm pretty sure I'll need a chisel to get some of this off." She grinned at him, but he still seemed tense, so she couldn't help but think he wasn't being entirely truthful. In a suspicious tone, Lois demanded, "Is that really all? Because that's nothing to get all worked up about, Clark. It's not like we don't eat dinner together all the time."
Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Clark explained, "Well, actually, Lois, I meant it as a date."
He definitely had her complete attention now. Her brow furled, Lois threw Clark an incredulous look. "Don't tell me you're trying to set me up on one of those awful blind dates that one's friends always think will be a wonderful idea but turns out to be a nightmare. I really thought you were above that sort of thing. And, really, as much fun as it sounds to waste an entire evening listening to some idiot trying to impress me with boring stories about how he…"
Before she could expound further, however, Clark sighed in exasperation and cut her off. "I meant with me. Lois, would you like to go on a date with me? To dinner?"
Well, that certainly took her by surprise. In fact, she needed a few moments to gather her thoughts and process that information, and, in the meantime, she was pretty sure she looked foolish with her mouth hanging open and all. "A date? You mean, like an actual date? With you?" She had to ask, just for the sake of clarity.
"That is the general idea behind the question, 'Would you like to go to dinner on a date with me'."
"Well, pardon me Smallville, but you never got the question out quite that succinctly," she griped, wondering what she should do now.
"If I could get a word in edgewise, maybe I would have!" he retorted, sounding more like the Clark she knew. "Anyway, you still haven't answered my question. Will you go out with me?"
"Oh. No," Lois responded. At his disappointed look, she rushed to finish. "At least not tonight. I wasn't kidding about needing a chisel to clean up, and yellow really isn't my color. Tomorrow night?"
With his usual adorable wide grin, Clark confirmed, "Tomorrow night it is, then."
As he left, Lois groaned and tossed her paintbrush into the sink. She'd clean up later. Right now, she needed to figure out when she had begun to find Clark's smile so damn adorable.
The next evening, Lois couldn't help but marvel at the amount of thought she'd put into their date. She would admit this to no one, of course. All day, questions about the wisdom (or lack thereof) of her accepting the date ran through her head. Getting dressed alone took her well over an hour, as she had a hard time deciding what to wear – a choice made even more difficult since she didn't know what kind of dinner Clark had in mind. She'd finally decided on a plain wine-colored dress that had been lurking in the back of her closet waiting for just the right occasion, but that decision had not come without quite a few second thoughts.
And in the end, the culmination of her day-long anxiety attack was that she spent a good amount of time on her date wondering if she'd ever had such a torturous evening in her life. It wasn't that Clark was bad company; she just couldn't think of anything to talk about. Finding an appropriate and engaging conversational gambit during dinner was a bit like sucking a sandwich through a straw. The problem was, none of the usual first date topics were appropriate for discussion. She already knew about his family and where he'd grown up; she knew what he'd wanted to be when he was little and many of the ways he'd gotten himself into trouble as a kid. She even knew what kind of underwear he wore, for crying out loud!
Lois firmly directed her thoughts away from anything having to do with Clark's underwear.
At the same time, she couldn't bring herself to talk with him as she normally would. Painfully aware that tonight he was something more than just her colleague and friend, Lois knew it would be inappropriate for her to tease him the way she normally would. Or, at least she knew he could be something more. Maybe. The more Lois pondered this, the more uncomfortable she became with the whole evening. As her discomfort grew, so did her tendency to babble – which, of course, Clark recognized as her defense mechanism in such situations, and her anxiety was clearly being noticed.
Worried that Clark would misconstrue her nervousness as regret over accepting the dinner invitation (and uncertain if she actually should be regretting it in fact), Lois took a big bite of food to forestall conversation. Whatever else happened tonight, she was going to have to get her bearings and relax. If she asked him one more polite question, he was likely to demand she see a doctor. Taking a moment to regroup, Lois eavesdropped on the tables around her in the hopes that, maybe there, she would find a clue for an appropriate topic to discuss.
None of the surrounding conversations caught her attention until she heard the man at a nearby table croon, "Isa my beebee gonna get some dessert? My sweet beebee. I yuv you." While Lois had to restrain the urge to retch, the woman across from him looked, incredibly, quite smitten by this inane babbling, and Lois almost choked on her wine. She could hardly believe her ears. Did anyone actually speak that way to another person over the age of two?
Would Clark expect her to talk that way to him?
Horrified, Lois whirled towards her date, leaned forward, and hissed at him, "Are you expecting me to talk baby talk to you?"
With a look of utmost confusion, Clark responded, "What?"
"You know, am I expected to coo over you or come up with cutesy nicknames for you? Because I'm going to tell you now, it's not going to happen."
If it were possible, Clark's confused look only intensified. "Lois, what are you talking about?"
"Nicknames. Endearments. You know, like…like…Muffin. You don't want me to call you muffin, do you?" She demanded, still in an undertone. It was one thing if he found a nickname annoying; it would be another thing entirely if he found it endearing.
Clark's expression bordered on terrified. "I'd rather you didn't, actually."
"How about Cupcake?" she suggested, assessing her date's reaction through narrowed eyes.
"Cupcake?" he parroted in disbelief.
"Pumpkin?" she asked in a demanding tone, trying to force back a smile.
"Lois, are you feeling okay?" he asked in concern, but his date ignored him.
"Lambchop?" Lois offered, and she was no longer to contain her amusement. While she teased him, her tension ebbed as she remembered why she enjoyed seeing Clark every day and that part of the appeal of their relationship was how easy it was to talk with him. The more horrified he grew in response to her obnoxious nicknames, the more Lois relaxed. Things didn't have to be so terribly different just because there might be more between them than just friendship. She certainly didn't have to try to be something she wasn't, and that meant she didn't have to refrain from teasing him all evening. The look in his eyes at the moment was definitely the same one he frequently gave her when they were looking for a lead on a story and she said the words, 'I have an idea…'
"Do you think we can stay away entirely from any nicknames that have to do with food?" he asked desperately, clearly trying to determine why she'd started throwing saccharine endearments at him from out of the blue.
"Okay, but I refuse to call you pookie," she declared, her tone brooking no debate, as she sat back and took a bite of food with a self-satisfied smile.
"You have no idea how much that tears me up inside," Clark retorted, but now he too was looking amused, and they shared a smile across the table.
The tension broken, the rest of the dinner passed smoothly, and, for a while, Lois managed to put the question of what might happen next between them out of her mind. But then she stood to leave the restaurant, and Clark went to help her with her coat – something he had done many times before. This time, however, when, in the process of doing so, his fingers lightly brushed the back of her neck, Lois drew in a sharp breath. She turned her head to look up at Clark and saw him studying her intently, and the butterflies in her stomach launched into hyperdrive.
"Thanks," she said with an awkward smile as she found herself suddenly wondering what it would be like to kiss Clark Kent. With an effort, she brushed the question aside. She was definitely not ready to tackle that particular thought.
Heedless of her private thoughts, he responded graciously, "You're welcome," as he escorted her outside. However, instead of calling a cab, like she would expect, he gestured for her to walk alongside him down the street. She did so, wondering where they were headed.
It didn't take her long until she couldn't bear the anticipation any longer, and she asked, "So, where are we going?"
"You'll see. It's a surprise," he responded enigmatically.
Lois frowned. "I'm not good with surprises, Clark," she reminded him. She always had to know what was going on; it was one of the things that made her a good reporter. Consequentially, however, while she was excellent at preparing surprise parties for her friends, she was not fond of having them thrown on her behalf.
Glancing over at her, her date deadpanned, "Really? I never noticed."
"Suit yourself, Mr. Kent. But just remember, payback is sweet."
"I'll take my chances," he replied confidently, and Lois chuckled in response. Though she was still dying to know where they were going, she decided to play along. For now.
As they walked, Lois instinctively stepped close to her companion as the cool evening air caused her to shiver, and she unconsciously took his hand in hers. When she realized what she'd done, she glanced at Clark out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't seem inclined to remark on the gesture, so she left her hand where it was.
"We're almost there," Clark said, breaking her out of her thoughts. Indeed, not five minutes later, they turned a corner and Clark gestured to the arched gateway in front of them. "Here we are! Metropolis's Botanical Gardens! Have you ever been here before?"
"No," she responded honestly. "But I've always wanted to come." The Gardens lay in the heart of the city. The land it occupied had been donated to Metropolis University in order to provide a hands-on research facility for students in the botany department, and the doors had only recently been opened to the public in the hopes of bringing in enough revenue to expand the grounds. As it was, it was one of the largest botanical gardens in the country, spanning over 200 acres of land.
As Clark escorted her through the wrought-iron gates, he pulled a pair of tickets out of his pocket and gave them to the docent standing nearby before escorting Lois into the heart of the Gardens. They walked in silence, stopping occasionally to admire a particularly exotic plant, and Lois closed her eyes, letting the myriad scents envelop her.
Finally, the two of them paused under a tree in the middle of the gardens, and Lois took the opportunity to look around her and take it all in. After a few moments, she turned her attention back on her date, who was standing before her, and she felt a small smile touch her lips. "Thank you for this evening, Clark. It was…perfect, actually," she said softly.
"It was my pleasure, Lois," he murmured in response, and the look in his eyes as he gazed down at her made her catch her breath. Her eyes widened, and she became acutely aware that her heart had begun to race. The question she'd been avoiding all evening came suddenly to the forefront of her mind. Would she kiss Clark Kent tonight? As she pondered that question, Clark leaned towards her, hesitated, and then leaned down a bit more.
What was she, an idiot? Of course she was going to kiss him.
Their first kiss was not the stuff sonnets are made of. The Earth didn't tilt on its axis; fireworks didn't explode overhead. Actually, in the list of Lois Lane's best efforts at kissing, it would rank near the bottom. In fact, she didn't so much kiss him as lunge at him.
As the awkward kiss ended, Lois stepped back and looked away in embarrassment while she tried to think of a sarcastic remark to deflect the moment. She felt like she should apologize – if not for her performance, then at least for almost doing him an injury, as had certainly been a possibility with her sudden rush forward. She wouldn't blame Clark if he bolted for the nearest exit.
Instead, she felt him move even closer to her, and, though she didn't intend to, she couldn't help but turn her attention back to him when he gently brushed a stray lock of hair off her cheek. "Relax, Lois," he said in a tone only slightly above a whisper, "I'm not going anywhere." She tilted her head back in order to look him in the eyes once more, and, suddenly, her lips were brushing his in a tender kiss.
Like so many aspects of their relationship, Lois's first kiss with Clark was better the second time around. Gradually, as they exchanged a series of soft, almost tentative exploratory kisses, Lois relaxed. Her hands, which had been hovering uncertainly at Clark's sides, came to rest on his waist. As the embrace continued, her hands traveled slowly across his stomach and up his chest, and she felt Clark's arms wrap around her waist as he pulled her tighter against him.
Suddenly, the mood shifted and intensified. Lois wrapped her arms around Clark's neck and held tightly to him as their kisses deepened to the point she thought she might drown in them. She dimly registered that Clark's hands had traveled to her hips, which he squeezed tightly before stepping away from her and breaking the embrace.
After a moment, Clark explained in a slightly strangled voice, "We should go. The Gardens will be closing soon." Lois nodded mutely, uncertain of her ability to speak. The intensity of their kisses had taken her by surprise, and she was going to need a bit of time to catch her breath and process what had happened between the two of them.
They were silent as the left the Gardens, but a thousand worries and doubts caught up with Lois as they walked. It wasn't until they were standing on the curb and Clark was trying to hail a cab that Lois blurted out, "You know, maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we shouldn't do this."
"What? Take a taxi?" Clark asked as he turned to look at her with raised eyebrows.
Rolling her eyes, Lois continued. "Very funny, but I'm actually being serious. I meant this." She gestured at the two of them to imply their new situation. "Seriously, think about it. If something goes wrong, we have so much to lose! You're my best friend, Clark. I care about you more than just about anybody. I don't think I could stand to lose you if we…if something happened," she finished lamely. When he didn't seem inclined to comment, she demanded, "I mean, why did you ask me out on a date, anyway?"
At that moment, Lois would have gladly given her journalism degree and every penny in her savings account to have the ground open up and swallow her whole. The question had been lurking in the back of her mind since he'd asked her out, but she'd never in a million years thought she'd be stupid enough to voice it. This was bound to be embarrassing.
Clark looked away from her for a long moment, but just when Lois hoped by some fluke that he'd been struck by temporary deafness and had not actually heard her question, he swallowed heavily, met her gaze once more, and spoke softly, "Because I don't want to be just friends with you, Lois. I've wanted to ask you out for a long time, but it's never been the right moment, and I finally got tired of waiting for one." He looked like he wanted to step closer to her but didn't dare in case she bolted, which she didn't think she could do if a herd of elephants came tromping down the street; she was pretty sure no force on Earth could move her from this spot. After a moment, he continued, "I know we're risking a lot, but I also know that when I walk into the Planet in the morning and see you, that's the best part of my day."
Lois would love to have come up with a clever response to that, but his words had taken her by surprise. In all honesty, she had never once given much thought to what it would be like to date Clark Kent. The half-dozen or so particularly vivid dreams she'd had didn't count. It was to her great shame that all she could manage in response to his confession was, "Oh," but she pondered his words as they climbed into the cab that had pulled up to the curb for them and Clark directed the driver to her address. His honesty had floored her, and she knew he deserved no less than the same from her.
Swallowing heavily, Lois took a deep breath and looked over at Clark, who was staring out the window as if regretting his words. Impulsively, she reached across the seat to grab Clark's hand and waited until he turned towards her again before admitting awkwardly, "I'm glad you asked me out tonight, Clark." As he entwined his fingers with hers, she scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.
It seemed to take no time at all before they pulled up in front of Lois's apartment and the two of them stepped out of the cab, Clark directing the driver to wait for him a moment. They chatted about nothing in particular as he escorted her up the steps to her apartment, where they paused in front of her door and she turned towards him to wish him a reluctant good night. She was actually sorry the evening was coming to an end. "You know, Clark, this really doesn't change anything between us," she teased. "I'm not going to…"
He cut her off, finishing her thought with a greatly exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "Be willing to agree that I'm right every once and a while? Or listen to me when I tell you not to take such great risks all the time? Or maybe…"
Lois snorted and decided it might be best if she interrupted him before he embarrassed himself further with wishful thinking. "Please, Smallville. You're not that good of a kisser." But even as she said these words, she grabbed his tie and yanked him towards her for a goodnight kiss. After a long moment, she stepped back and said, "Night, Clark."
"Night, Lois," he replied, and Lois had to force herself to open her door and not grab him in order to continue where they left off. Though her fingers fumbled with the lock a while, she finally managed to turn the latch and make it into her apartment, where she rested against the front door for a moment and closed her eyes. She knew she had a goofy smile on her face; she just didn't care. After a moment, she grinned to herself as she raced to the living room window that overlooked the front steps and waited to catch sight of Clark leaving the building.
Lois watched as he climbed into the cab and waited until his car was out of sight before she drew away from the window. Shaking her head slightly in disbelief, she made her way to her bedroom and found that she couldn't stop thinking about him as she got ready for bed. Later, as she got under the covers and realized she was still thinking about that damn kiss, she muttered to herself in astonishment, "Who would have thought, Lois Lane falling for the farmboy. Don't look now, Lois, but I think you're definitely in over your head this time."