CHAPTER 3

At the same time…

Jonathan enters the Peacock Café and scans the room, his eyes settling on a woman wearing a modestly cut yet elegant beige sweater. He walks over to her. "Hi, Mona," he leans over to softly kiss her cheek. "You look lovely, as usual," he smiles as he sits down.

"Thanks, Jonathan," she smiles back.

"So have you been waiting long?" he asks as he peruses the menu.

"Not long. About ten minutes," she replies as she sips her espresso.

"Sorry I'm late, but you know how mid-day traffic can be – especially during the Christmas season," he says as he lays the menu down on the table.

"Yes I do," she says as the waiter comes over to the table. He leaves after he takes Jonathan's order.

"So how are you doing?" he asks.

"I've been better," she sighs. "I still can't get used to being alone again after all these years."

"I can't even imagine what you must be going through," a solemn expression on his face.

"It's not easy," she admits. "This will be the first Christmas that I'll be alone," dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

"You were together thirty years and married for the last ten. It doesn't surprise me that you would be feeling emotional, especially at this time of year," he remarks as the waiter brings over his espresso.

"Friday would have been our tenth wedding anniversary as a matter of fact," dabbing her eyes again. "I can't believe you remembered," smiling through her tears.

"I remember a lot of things," smiling back at her. "That reminds me," reaching into his jacket pocket. "I got you a little something for Christmas," handing her a small velvet box. "I hope you like it."

"I didn't get you anything," looking up at him.

"You didn't have to," he replies with a smile. "You're friendship is enough. Now go on. Open it."

She chuckles lightly as she tears off the wrapping paper and opens the box. She gasps softly as she lifts up the gold bracelet studded with birds and stars. "It's beautiful. Thank you," leaning forward to give him another kiss on the cheek.

"I remembered that you have a thing for birds and that Janet loved to look at the stars," he replies.

She bits down on her lower lip, her eyes blinking back the tears as she slips the bracelet on her left wrist. "I'll never take this off," gazing at the birds and stars.

"I'm so relieved that you like it."

"Why?" looking at him curiously.

"Well…" hesitating for a moment. "I almost didn't give it to you because I wondered if it would be a painful reminder," he admits.

"It's not," touching his hand. "It's a lovely reminder of the woman who was and always will be the love of my life."

Jonathan smiles back. "So do you have any plans for Friday night or will you be staying in?" he asks as he begins to sip his coffee.

"Janet and I were supposed to see La Boheme at the Metropolis Opera House Friday night. We got the tickets just before she passed away…" her voice trailing off.

Jonathan sets his cup down on the tiny matching saucer and looks up. "If you want, I could go with you." She looks up at him with an arch of her brows. "I would hate to see the tickets go to waste," he says nonchalantly as he resumes drinking his coffee. "So what do you say? Do we have a date?"

She nods her head. "We do," she answers back with a smile. "Now that that's settled, let me ask you something."

"Go ahead," he replies as he finishes up his coffee.

"So what's been going on with you since I saw you last week?"

"Me?" looking at her curiously.

"Yes, you," rolling her eyes slightly.

"Well…" pausing a moment. "Clark announced last night that he was getting married again."

"That's wonderful news," getting up from her chair to give him a hug, then sitting back down. "Who is he marrying anyway? Is it the good-looking guy in the sports department?"

"No," Jonathan shakes his head sadly. "It's his writing partner."

Her mouth forms an 'o' and she stares at him with surprise. "He's marrying a woman?"

"Yep," he nods as he starts eating his pastry.

"I don't understand," a puzzled look on her face. "Why would he marry another woman?"

"He said that he doesn't believe there is a 'Mr. Right' for him and that he wants to have another kid before he's too old to enjoy him or her," Jonathan says between bites. "I made it quite clear that I don't think it's a good idea, but his mind is made up so there's no changing it."

"He's a stubborn man, Jonathan. He takes after you."

He lays his fork down on his plate. "I'm stubborn?" his eyes narrowing.

"Absolutely," she says emphatically.

"Since when?"

"For as long as I've known you," she quips.

He leans back in his chair. "We've known each other since high school. That's almost fifty years ago."

She can't help chuckling. "I don't know why this should come as a surprise to you. I'm sure that your wife has mentioned it from time to time," flashing him a wink.

He picks up his fork and stabs his fork into his pastry and shoves a piece into his mouth.

"Seems like I hit a nerve," arching one of her brows. "Jonathan?" she asks when he doesn't respond. He just continues eating his pastry, dropping the fork on the plate with a clatter when he's finished. "Fine. Be like that," she snorts as she rises from her chair.

He looks up. "You're going?"

"I have some shopping to do, then I have an appointment with the hairdresser," she replies as she picks up her coat. "I'll meet you there Friday night around seven," leaning over to give him another hug.

"Okay," he replies as he rises to his feet. "As usual I enjoyed our weekly get-together," he says with a smile as he helps her with her coat before they walk towards the front door. "So where are you parked?" he asks as they exit the café.

"I took a cab," she replies as she puts on her gloves.

"Nonsense," he declares. "I'll give you a ride home."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"I insist," he answers back. "Come on," taking her arm and leading her towards his car…

The bakery apartment

Clark follows Oliver out of the basement. They continue to walk in silence as they climb the stairs of the three-story walk-up above the bakery. "This is it," Oliver says, holding the door open.

"It's nice," Clark remarks as he steps inside the two-bedroom apartment. He notices a desk with a laptop in a corner of the living room, an overstuffed couch on the opposite side of the room with a coffee table in front of it. "Do you use this as an office?" turning to Oliver.

"No," Oliver replies. "I use it when I want to be alone," he mutters softly as he stares at one of several La Boheme posters he has hanging on the walls of the apartment.

"I can understand that," Clark remarks as he walks around the room. "When I was a kid, we lived on a farm in Smallville. I always went up to the loft in the barn when I needed my privacy. My Dad liked to call it my Fortress of Solitude," smiling at the memory. "My parents still go back there at least one weekend a month."

"So you still own the farm?"

Clark looks up. "Yes," he replies. "What about your parents?"

Oliver abruptly turns away and walks over to a side table with an old-fashioned record player on top of it. "My parents died in a plane crash when I was eight," he answers back as he places a record on the turntable and lifts the arm. There's a crackling sound as the needle touches the spinning record before the opening strains of La Boheme begin to play.

"What is that?" Clark asks as he takes off his coat and scarf, stuffing the gloves and hat into one of the pockets and hanging it on the coat rack.

"La Boheme," Oliver replies without looking up. "It was my mother's favorite opera," he replies in a melancholy tone.

"It's beautiful," Clark says as he looks up at Oliver. When he doesn't answer Clark asks, "So do you have anything to drink around here?"

"There's some coffee in the cabinet," Oliver replies. "I'll make some."

"I can make it," Clark declares, walking out of the living room and into the kitchen. Once he finds it and prepares the coffee, he makes his way over to the refrigerator. "I bet you haven't had anything to eat all day," he remarks as he pulls out a package from the freezer and reads the label.

"I'm not really hungry," Oliver says.

"You have to eat something," Clark insists as he puts the package in the microwave and sets it on 'defrost' while setting a pan of water on the stovetop for the pasta. "I'm gonna make you a steak."

"I don't want it," Oliver insists.

"You'll eat it," Clark returns with a smile as he removes the package and begins to season the steak with salt and pepper, then sprinkles some Italian seasoning.

"I like it well done," Oliver calls out.

"You'll eat this one bloody to feed your blood," Clark replies as he sets the steak aside and goes about setting the table. Once the water for the pasta comes to a boil, he heats up the grill pan before adding the steak.

"That smells good," Oliver says as he walks into the kitchen and comes up behind Clark, looking over his shoulder as he turns the steak over. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

"I learned from my mother," Clark replies in a slightly nervous tone, feeling a little flustered at the nearness of Oliver. "It's just about ready," turning off the heat and flipping it onto a plate, then adding some spaghetti. "I'll put it on the…" stopping in mid sentence as their eyes meet. "…table," he swallows thickly before tearing his eyes away and setting the plate down.

Oliver picks up his knife and fork and starts cutting into the steak while Clark sits across from him drinking his coffee. "This is good…uh…"

"Clark," he replies. "Clark Kent."

"Clark Kent. Hmm," a thoughtful look on his face. "You're not by any chance related to our former Governor Jonathan Kent are you?"

"He's my father," Clark replies.

"Hmm," Oliver mutters again. "So how did you meet Lois?" changing the subject as he twirls some spaghetti around his fork and popping it into his mouth.

"We met at the Daily Planet when I got a job there as a reporter," Clark says as he adds some more milk to his coffee.

"That certainly explains why your name seemed so familiar to me – and not just because of your father. I've read many of your stories. You're a very good writer," Oliver says with a small smile.

"Thank you," Clark replies.

The only sound to be heard for the next couple minutes is the sound of the knife scraping the plate as Oliver cuts into the last of the steak. "So is this your first marriage?"

Clark is taken aback at the suddenness of Oliver's question. "No, actually," he answers after a long pause. "I was married for two years but then my wife died."

"How'd she die?" Oliver asks.

"A bus hit her."

"Fast?"

"Instantaneous," Clark replies quickly.

Oliver exhales softly before asking his next question. "When did you get engaged?"

"Yesterday."

"So…five years ago you got your hand cut off and your man left you. No men since then?" Clark asks him.

"No."

"Stupid," Clark shakes his head with a sigh.

"When did your wife get hit by a bus?"

"About…uh…seven years ago," Clark replies as he starts eating some of the spaghetti.

"How many women since then?"

"Just Lois."

"Okay, so how many men?"

Clark nearly chokes on his food but he manages to swallow it down. "Men?" staring at Oliver with a shocked expression. "What makes you think I'm interested in men?" his voice cracking slightly.

Oliver snorts with laughter. "I knew you were gay the second I laid eyes on you. I'm not an idiot you know."

Clark's eyes narrow for a moment before leaning back against his chair with a sigh. "There was one man," he admits at last.

"Stupid yourself," Oliver remarks. "Was it serious?" he asks as he picks up his water glass.

"No," Clark shakes his head sadly. "It was a one night stand."

"Really," his interest peaked. "You don't seem like the type of guy who would do such a thing."

"It happened while I was still married and denying my true feelings. I finally realized that I couldn't deny it to myself anymore."

"So what happened?" Oliver asks him.

"I couldn't live with the guilt about breaking my marriage vows anymore so I confessed what I did and she freaked out. She ran out of the house and into the street crying and didn't see the bus until it was too late."

"Wow," Oliver stares back at Clark with astonishment. "So you haven't been with another man since?"

"No," Clark admits. "I've gone on dates, but there was always something missing," shrugging his shoulders as he finishes off his spaghetti. "I guess my father was right all along. It was bad luck."

"I don't care about luck. You understand me? It ain't that."

Clark drops his fork. "What's the matter with you? You think you're the only one who shed a tear?"

"Between the two of us, yes I'm the only one. You may have been married, but I bet you weren't truly in love with your wife, were you?" When Clark doesn't reply, he goes on. "Why are you here talking to me anyway?"

Clark looks up at him, pausing a moment before he finally says something. "You have any whiskey? How about you get me a glass of whiskey?" picking up his napkin and wiping his mouth with it.

At the same time…

"Thanks for the lift, Jonathan," Mona says as she gets out of the car.

"No need to thank me," he replies with a smile as she closes the door and comes around to his side of the car.

"Now don't forget about our 'date' Friday night," she smiles as she leans forward to press her lips against his cheek.

"Seven at the Met," flashing a wink at her as she walks away. He waits until she's inside her apartment building before he pulls away from the curb.

Back at the apartment…

"He was right to leave me," Oliver says in a wistful tone as he pours some more whiskey into a glass.

"You think so?" taking the bottle from him and setting it down on the table.

"Yeah."

"You really are stupid you know that?"

"Uh…you don't know anything about it," Oliver retorts.

"Maybe not, but you tell me the story, and you act like you know what it means…but I can see what the true story is and you can't. That man didn't leave you, okay? You can't see what you are, and I see everything. You're a wolf."

"I'm a wolf?" looking at him curiously.

"Yeah. The big part of you that has no words and…uh…it's a wolf. That man was a trap for you. He caught you, and you couldn't get away…so you chewed off your own foot," gesturing with his hand.

He just scoffs and turns his head away as Clark continues to talk.

"That was the price you had to pay for your freedom. Lois had nothing to do with it. You did what you had to do between you and you. And now you're afraid because you know the big part of you is a wolf that has the courage to bite off its own hand to save itself from the trap of the wrong love. That's why there's been no man since that 'wrong man.' Okay? You're scared to death of what the wolf will do if you make that mistake again."

"What are you doing?" Oliver turns his head back around and glares at Clark.

"I'm telling you your life," Clark replies as he takes a sip of whiskey.

"Stop it!"

"No," Clark retorts.

"Why are you marrying Lois?"

"Because this is my last chance to have kids, that's why."

Oliver abruptly gets up and pushes his chair back. "She made me look the wrong way, and I cut off my hand! She could make you look the wrong way. You could lose your whole head!"

"I'm looking where I have to in order to become a father!"

"A father without a head!"

"A wolf without a foot!"

Oliver finally has had enough and he pushes the table away with such force that it flips over, the dishes and glass shattering upon impact with the linoleum covered floor.

Clark looks up in shock as Oliver stands there staring down at him, briefly running his fingers through his hair in exasperation before he takes a couple steps and grabs Clark by the arms, pulling him to his feet and crashing his lips against his.

Clark's eyes close as Oliver continues to kiss him with an intensity he hadn't felt in years. He pulls away to catch his breath. "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" he exclaims before throwing his arms around Oliver's neck and kissing him back.

Oliver's arms come around Clark's waist to pull him flush against his chest. Clark moans softly as their groins press up against each other as they completely lose themselves in the moment of passion. Suddenly Oliver lowers one of his arms and hooks it around Clark's knees.

"What do you think you're doing?" Clark staring up at him in disbelief as Oliver lifts him up into his arms. "Guys don't sweep another guy off their feet and-"

"Son of a b!tch!" Oliver interrupts him as he carries Clark out of the kitchen.

"Where are you taking me?"

Oliver fixes his eyes on Clarks. "To the bed."

Clark's head drops backwards as they enter the bedroom. "Oh, no. Okay, I don't care. I don't care. Take me, take me to the bed. I don't care about anything," his head resting on Oliver's shoulder.

"I can't believe this is happening," Oliver replies softly as he sets Clark down on the bed and lies on top of him. "I was dead," he mutters.

"Me too," Clark whispers softly as Oliver peppers his throat with kisses while ripping open his flannel shirt and tossing it aside, the sound of buttons scattering across the floor.

"That was one of my best flannel shirts," Clark retorts as he retaliates by tearing off Oliver's tank top.

"I'll buy you a new shirt. Preferably silk," Oliver growls while gliding his palms over Clark's hardened nipples, eliciting a deep groan from within him.

Their hands move all over each other's bodies as the rest of their clothes rapidly hit the floor. Oliver lightly rubs several of his fingers over the head of Clark's length to lubricate them before they slip between Clark's cheeks.

Clark's eyes flutter shut and he groans with pleasure as Oliver's fingers push forward. "You're so tight," Oliver mutters as he scissors his fingers inside Clark. "How long did you say it's been since that one time?"

"Seven years," Clark gasps out as their lower bodies rub against each other at the same time.

Oliver looks down at him. "I don't want to hurt you. You'd tell me if I was wouldn't you?" sounding a little worried.

Clark opens his eyes and looks up. "Of course I would," smiling up at him in a reassuring way.

Oliver smiles back while his other hand lightly caresses Clark's cheek.

"There's something I need to ask you."

"What?" Oliver asks in a curious tone.

He opens his eyes and looks up. "I was…uh…wondering if you…uh…had some…uh…protection?"

Oliver smiles in response and removes his fingers before reaching over to pull out a foil packet from the nightstand drawer. "Is this what you had in mind?" he asks as he sits up and tears it open.

"Yes," Clark gasps out breathlessly.

Oliver rolls the condom on and lies back down on Clark. "What about Lois?" he asks as he grabs Clark's legs and lifts them up.

Clark immediately locks his ankles behind Oliver's upper back. "You're mad at her. Take it out on me. Take all your revenge out on me. Leave nothing for her to marry except the skin over my bones," Clark gasps out, his eyes closing again as his fingernails dig deep into Oliver's shoulders.

"Alright. There will be nothing left," Oliver murmurs against his lips as he slowly sinks all the way into Clark's body, the painful gasps coming out of Clark because of the initial burn of Oliver's length stretching him turning into moans of ecstasy that fill the air as their bodies rock together…

TO BE CONTINUED…