STEEL THY HEART CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A/N: At long last, Selina and Clark go on their date, and a third party reappears. I found out that the name of the Smallville football team was the Crows, so I used that. As far as Clark's opinion/account about him and sports, that is from the movies. Please read and review.
The last remnants of rain trickled down outside Selina's window in her bedroom as she put her perfume and some powder on. Clark waited in her living room, fighting the urge a second time to take a clandestine peek with his x ray vision at her through the closed door.
"So," the Mistress of Cats asked from behind its other side, "tell me why he couldn't come."
Clark looked at an issue of the Gotham Times and said, "something about a 777."
At least that had turned out to be true. Clark, or rather Superman, had saved several passengers earlier that night before flying off to change for his date. They had been returning from Paris when engine trouble made the plane go into a tailspin. Superman had grabbed it and he had brought it to a screeching halt on the tarmac at Metropolis International Airport a little over an hour ago. There were only minor injuries as the passengers disembarked, he had noted, and before the press could secure an interview, he had gone off to his desk at the Daily Planet to type up the headline at super speed before heading home.
"The 777 that was on the evening news?" Selina's muffled voice asked. Behind her door, she put on her black slip.
"Yes," Clark said, loud enough for her to hear.
"That's great!" She exclaimed, putting her dress on over her head.
"But you still wish he could have come, right?" Clark guessed. Before he heard her mumble a reply, he added, "sorry to disappoint you."
"No problem, Mr. Kent," Selina said, slipping on her pantyhose. Satisfied, she put on her earrings.
"If we're going out, don't you think you ought to call me Clark?" the shy journalist's voice invited.
Selina agreed, "Clark, it is. So long as you also call me Selina."
The mild mannered man put down the newspaper and settled back on her couch. A female cat jumped on it beside him. She started sniffing him.
"Smell something you like…" Clark started asking the Persian cat when he caught a glimpse of her collar, then said her name. "…Lady?"
Lady meowed with delight. Another cat, this one larger and covered with black fur, jumped on the other side of the couch. Clark saw that his collar indicated his name was Bruce.
"Figures she'd have a Bruce," he commented, stroking Lady's fur and then Bruce's.
After checking on her hair, Selina put her raincoat on over her wrap and placed her feet in some two inch pumps. One last check confirmed that she was ready to go wherever he wanted to take her. The Cats' Mistress grabbed her clutch bag and exited her bedroom.
Clark and Selina made their way to his royal blue Acura. Clark let the Mistress of Cats in the passenger side, and Selina fussed with her hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail. Clark dutifully pulled out of the garage.
Selina peered at the road he'd driven onto. She saw the buildings with their clear windows reflecting the lights shining in the offices. They cast different colors, lighting up Metropolis like a Christmas tree. The Catwoman marveled at the enticing vista; in Gotham city, the buildings were a very dismal muddy brown, and the lights were dim in comparison to the brightness of the city that she now lived in.
A girl could grow to like this! She thought. Stealing a glance at Clark, Selina said aloud, "So, where are we going?"
"It's a surprise," Clark responded, waiting at a stop light. When the light turned green, he made another left turn.
"You're not even going to give me a clue?" Selina pressed. Clark shook his head, grinning a little.
"Nope," he answered. When he saw her frowning out of the corner of his eye, he said, "I'll make a deal with you. If you can tell me which state I hail from before we get there, I'll tell you where we're going."
"Okay," Selina said. She pursed her red lips in concentration. The soft spoken reporter sounded like he came from the middle part of the United States, she concluded.
"You're from the Midwest?" she guessed.
Clark praised, "very good! You know, it took Lois over a week to figure out where I was from. I'll bet you'll find my home state in no time!"
"Maybe, but there are a lot of states to cover from that region," she countered, "if I can ask some questions…".
"You mean, like playing twenty questions?" Clark queried. "I suppose that's fair."
"To start, are you maybe from Wisconsin?" Selina wondered. Clark chuckled.
"Too far north," he responded, driving onto an overpass.
"Oklahoma?" Selina asked. Clark shook his head.
"Not even close," he told her. "You're too far in the opposite direction with that one."
Selina concentrated some more. Remembering something Lucy had told her about a concert of Country Music that she had gone to in Brandon, Missouri, Selina brightened, suggesting the "show me" state.
"Hmm…" Clark mused, enjoying the game they were playing. "Missouri, you say? Missouri would not be the state…".
"No?" Selina asked, slightly frustrated that she hadn't guessed the correct one.
"No," Clark responded. He drove off of the overpass and made a left.
"OK," she said, not willing to give up. "But you are from the central Midwest, right?"
Clark grinned. "Maybe," he said, not giving anything else away.
Selina put her finger to her cheek and considered the clues she had so far. He could be throwing her off a little, so she suggested Iowa and Wyoming.
"Iowa's too far East," he said, "and technically, Wyoming's a Western State. Even if it were part of the Midwest, though, that would be too far West." He stopped at a red light.
"Give up yet?" Clark asked. Selina shook her head. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
"Not on your life," she said confidently. "What about where you were raised? Was it in a mountain community or a farm? And, if it was a farm, what type of crops grew there?"
"Mostly wheat," Clark responded. "And snaps for guessing that I was raised on a farm. You don't have much time, though. We're gonna be at the restaurant in less than fifteen minutes."
Selina would not be deterred. "What about the weather there?" She wondered.
"It snows quite a bit," he reported after a beat. "We're legendary for our blizzards. They can last for months at a time."
"Assuming you're not from Minnesota because that's still too far North, how about North Dakota or South Dakota?" Selina inquired.
"Good guess, but no cigar," Clark replied. He turned then got into his right lane.
Selina studied him, or rather Clark's arm, as he raised it to turn right. "You're taller and more muscular than you look, although you try to hide it. What kind of sports did you play in your High School?" She queried.
"Sports?" Clark repeated, slightly apprehensive.
He thought about Brad Thompson, the star quarterback at Smallville High, and his cronies. They had teased him mercilessly because Clark had been extremely introverted. Early on, the adopted alien had learned that he needed to pretend he was mild mannered, to say nothing about a terrible football player, in order to disguise his super strength. As a result, he had been the all around gopher and water boy to bullies like Brad. With the exception of Lana Lang, his first crush and best female friend, he had been tormented by their cruel jokes and slurs against his gentle nature.
It was that and other lessons in humiliation which made him decide that if he was going to be the Intoverted Man in life, Clark wanted people to accept him on his own terms. He didn't want Superman to be his savior, to be the one people gravitated toward simply because his other personality was the biggest, the strongest and more charismatic. He wanted people, especially women like Selina, to appreciate the wide eyed, sometimes shy human he actually was.
When he had done some investigating about Selina's nemesis earlier at the Daily Planet, he had decided that he would see which man she preferred. He hoped she would choose him rather than his other hidden persona. Only time would tell. Selina looked over at him, waiting patiently.
"Well, let's just say I wasn't into sports," Clark responded. "But as a spectator, I used to watch our High School football team, the Crows."
"So you never played at all?" Selina queried. Clark replied in the negative.
Thinking about the name of his football team, and which state the Crows might be from, Selina saw that her time had run out when Clark's car stopped in front of the restaurant.
Saved by the bell, Clark thought, though he could tell that Selina was still thinking when he let her out.
"Time's up," he said. Selina looked at the maroon colored awning and thought, oh shoot!
"You win, I suppose," she conceded.
"It took a lot to say that," Clark mused. "I appreciate it."
Okay," she inquired out the window as he escorted her inside. "Where are you from?"
"Keep guessing," he advised. "I'll tell you later after we leave the restaurant." Selina followed him inside, and as they waited for their seats, she removed her raincoat.
What Clark saw took his breath away. She wore a dress of midnight blue silk that was much more simple in its design than the one Selina had worn to Luthor's party. It was sleeveless with a turned over collar at its top. Her pleated skirt fanned out, placing the emphasis on her hips. At the center of the outfit was a red belt accentuated with a silver belt buckle in the shape of a cat. Yes, Clark decided, he liked her simple outfit very much.
"You're stunning…" he breathed. Selina basked in his adoration.
"Thanks," she said. "You are, too." Clark looked down at himself.
"Really?" he asked shyly. "I'm glad."
In fact, she thought, you look good enough to eat! She didn't want to scare him off, so she asked,"Moroccan?" When Clark nodded, she added, "you surprise me."
The timid journalist responded by saying in a teasing voice, "Oh? You think that because I was raised on a farm all I know is corn and fried chicken, or something like that?" He looked at her with an amused expression.
Selina replied sheepishly, "Well...".
She stared at the homey, non ostentatious feeling of the place. The room had a high ceiling, with the walls painted in a deep rich green the color of grass. There were wooden benches for two or more with pillows which were richly designed with swirls and dark colors on them. In front of the benches were tables of brown non descript wood that were about three feet tall. A waiter came up and after handing them two menus, set them up near the center of the room. She looked at her menu. Clark glanced at his.
While the daters were making up their minds, they failed to notice another figure who was at a table in the back of the restaurant. As soon as the lone figure saw the reporter and his date, the stranger smiled. Fate had a way of solving the most difficult problems, like locating one's prey. Perhaps, the person thought as a second pair of green eyes studied Clark, there was a different way to show Selina Kyle that she wasn't safe other than a direct confrontation. The Catwoman's foe decided as the food arrived that the idea deserved the utmost consideration.
Clark signaled the waiter and gave their orders. While they waited, the other person punched some numbers into a cell phone.
"Hello?" the co-conspirator's voice came over the line.
"It's me," the enemy said. "I have spotted them. I think it's time that we taught a lesson to Ms. Kyle, one that she'll never forget." Securing the friend's assent, the adversary sat back and raised the cup of mint tea in a mocking toast.
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Clark dipped his fingers in the bowl the waiter had brought and then took a piece of lemon chicken in his hand. He popped it in his mouth, asking, "So what about you? Let's start with your hometown."
Selina ate an olive and answered, "There's not really much to tell."
"I can't believe that," Clark said.
Selina thought about her upbringings and sighed, saying, "It's not something I like to discuss."
Unbidden, Clark's hand reached across the low table to hers. "Does it have to do with your criminal past?" He asked sympathetically.
"I said, I don't want to talk about it!" She snapped. He simply stared at her, his eyes giving her a pitying glance.
"I won't press," Clark told her softly, "but it would probably do you a world of good to unburden yourself."
Selina looked away. She angrily grabbed a piece of beef dipped in honey and shoved it in her mouth. When the belly dancer began to shake in the middle of the floor, she turned her attention toward the nubile, young woman. Although Catwoman tried to pretend that it was the talented dancing of the woman before her that grabbed Selina's attention, she knew that was not the case. She would do anything to avoid discussing her past with Clark.
After all, it had been her past as a cat burglar which had cost her one relationship with Bruce, and if the mild mannered reporter knew about that, or about the secret she was concealing, he would stop being with her, and so might Superman. Selina would rather preserve the illusion of a perfect life with either Clark or Superman rather than have him judge her for what she had done.
Clark ate silently, chewing on his couscous. When the belly dancing show was over and Selina turned back toward him, he looked over at the young woman. A middle aged, swarthy man took her hand and led her into the back as the waiter removed Clark and Selina's main course and brought out some dessert.
"That's Sasha," the shy journalist supplied. "She and her husband own this place."
"Really?" Selina asked, following Clark's gaze even though no one was there. She was glad that Clark had dropped the subject of her past. She popped a date in her mouth.
"Her dancing reminds me of someone I saw dancing in a little café on the left bank in Paris," Selina supplied. Clark raised a brow.
"Are you perchance talking about the little café up the street from the tenth bridge?" he asked.
"Yes, the one that's not at Boulevard de Chardonnaze, but the one…" Selina started saying.
"…that's on Plaza de L'Amour!" Clark finished. "Or rather beneath it." The Cats Mistress was floored that he would know about the location. It was an underground restaurant that wasn't exactly easy to find. She thought a moment, then reasoned that perhaps Superman might have led him to it somehow.
"I know I shouldn't ask any more questions about you, but I was wondering…" she requested.
"About what?" Clark inquired, staring into her intense eyes.
"About Superman…" Selina wondered, "were you both close?"
Clark drew back. He knew it was crazy for him to be uncomfortable, maybe even jealous, of himself, but he had hoped to avoid the subject of the Man of Steel for one day. It seemed like whenever he was about to have a more meaningful connection with a woman, Superman always got in the way.
"Define close," Clark threw back, trying not to sound irritated.
Selina didn't miss a beat. "Are you friends?" She asked. "Were you raised together?"
"Yes," he answered, looking away. "We're quite close. As close as two men can possibly be."
The Catwoman arched a brow. She didn't know why he was upset all of a sudden. Her hand reached out to him. She stroked his large fingers, massaging him. Clark relaxed a little.
"I'm sorry," he told her, "it's just, well, people think I have the inside track on Superman, and I was hoping that I could avoid talking about him for one night."
Selina could sympathize. In the grand scheme of things, Clark must have a lot of resentment towards a hero who sometimes, without meaning to, stole the thunder out from under him. She sometimes felt that way whenever she put her Catwoman costume on. It seemed that the premiere jewel thief had stolen her life from under Selina. Her life could be adventure filled and fun, but it also contained a darker path, one that she found she wasn't certain she wanted to pursue that much anymore.
Selina gripped his hand tighter. "I'm sorry, too," she said. "How about talking about something else. I think I finally know which state you hail from."
Clark looked back at her and smiled. "Okay, guess," he replied. He signaled the waiter and paid the check.
"Kansas?" Selina asked hopefully. Clark's eyes twinkled. She knew she'd guessed correctly when he verbally confirmed her answer in the positive.
"Smallville, to be exact," he said. "Well done!" They got up and walked out into the cool night air.
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When he pulled up to her apartment building and then walked her to her door, Selina fumbled for her keys. Clark waited until she turned back toward him; then, he started to kiss her cheek. The Mistress of Cats took the initiative and grabbed both sides of his face. She planted a scorching kiss on his lips.
"Wha…?" Clark breathed. Selina drew away slowly and unlocked her door.
"Just giving you a sample for later," she said seductively. "I really had a great time!"
Clark blinked rapidly. He felt his heart racing, and he could hear hers doing the same.
"I…wow…I," he mumbled.
"Perhaps we could see each other again sometime," she told him. It was a full minute before Clark realized he was all alone in her hallway. He thought about when he'd wanted Lois to kiss him the way Selina had and found his partner at work extremely lacking. In fact, he had never felt as though his heart was soaring even when he had been in love with Lois or Lana. He went downstairs in a daze, looking forward to seeing her again later that night.
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Selina closed the door behind the timid journalist and sighed. He sure had a sexy mouth, one very sexy mouth. Bruce had one too, but behind his handsome exterior were a lot of secrets and emotional baggage that, despite being with him for so long, she found confining. Clark was different. He had an innocence that she found refreshing. It was as if her heart had been in an emotional prison for so long, and the reporter bent down the bars to let her true feelings out for awhile.
She hoped that she would never stop feeling like that.
Selina was about to take off her dress when she heard a knock at her window. She drew back her drapes and opened her window to see the Man of Steel outside.
"Hello," he said cheerfully. "I hope I didn't come at a bad time."