A/N: While this chapter does take place after the last, I can't promise that they will all be in chronological order. Hopefully I'll include enough clues to fill you in on where in time we are. Thank you all SO much!
She's quiet on the flight home from Star City and although he desperately wants to know why the verbose Lois Lane isn't talking, he knows better than to ask. If she wants him to know she'll tell him, and asking before she's ready would just land him on her bad side, a place he definitely does not want to be.
He's intuitive enough to know that it must have something to do with Chloe and Oliver and their new baby boy because Lois couldn't stop gushing over his chubby cheeks and his down-like white-blonde hair while they were at the hospital, but has grown eerily and uncharacteristically quiet ever since they took off from the hospital roof.
"Lois," he says softly, trying anything he can think of to lighten her mood and open the door for conversation, should she decide she wants to talk. "You know I love you, right?"
"Of course, Smallville." She sniffs. Sniffs? Surely it's just because the cool night air and higher elevation is making her nose run.
Then, after a moment, she sighs. "I love you, too."
Clark doesn't press the issue any further, because he knows she'll tell him when she's damn good and ready and not a moment sooner, but as her sniffs become more frequent and a tell-tale damp patch grows on the front of the suit right where her cheeks press into his chest, it becomes harder and harder to remain silent.
Finally, he delivers her to the street in front of their apartment and nods at her as she turns quickly and heads up the stairs. He doesn't need micro-vision to see that her eyes are red and puffy and that the very end of her nose is pink.
That's what worries him the most as he speeds through his rounds in the city. Lois so rarely shows him this side of her that he's still unsure how to handle it. He's only half-aware of the burglary and even less so of the fire he stops, because all he can think about is the Lois-sized hole that's opened in his chest so suddenly that he feels as if he's suffocating.
There's plenty more he could do for Metropolis tonight—isn't there always?—but there's more he needs to do for Lois; so just after midnight he puts in a call to Watchtower and asks Dinah to take the reins for the evening. He knows it's selfish to ask the League to compensate for both him and Oliver but he can't shake the feeling that something is really wrong with the person he loves more than anything else in the entire world.
He changes back into his Clark Kent clothes in their phone booth and rushes back to their apartment. He isn't sure what he expects, but it sure as hell isn't Lois sitting cross-legged on the couch, mindlessly twirling her engagement ring around her finger, an untouched but open bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of her, staring blankly at the powered-off television. She hasn't been crying recently, at least not that he can tell, but she barely acknowledges his entrance, even when he calls her name worriedly.
"Lois," he says again, more quietly, rushing to her side with the weight of unasked questions in his chest. He brushes a stray strand of hair off her forehead and cups her cheek with his palm. "What's wrong?"
She lifts her hazel eyes to him and takes in every detail of his face. The slope of his nose, the strong cut of his jaw, the delicate creases at the corners of his eyes even through he's only twenty-five. Saving the world is hard on a person.
Then she kisses him softly, not unlike the way she kisses him goodbye in the middle of the night when he leaves their bed to save someone, or when their weekly movie night has to be preempted (again) because of a fire alarm he can't ignore. He knows this kiss well—she's disappointed, but has accepted her fate. It's the kiss of a superhero's wife.
"Lois…" he says again, resting his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes, and waiting, just waiting for her next move.
When the tears slip from beneath her dark eyelashes, they splash across his cheeks too, and it breaks him completely. He feels like he should apologize for something, but he still isn't sure what's wrong, and the way she's holding onto him—one fist twisted into the material of his shirt, the other gripping the back of his neck as tightly as she can—he knows now isn't the time.
Later, after he carries her to bed and holds her until the tears abate completely; after he's coaxed his favorite sound in the universe—his name, punctuated by her gasps and moans of pleasure—from her lips with just his hands (his own private apology), he pulls her against his chest and traces patterns in the delicate skin of her back.
"We're never going to have that, are we?" Lois whispers into the darkness. "What Chloe and Ollie have… A baby… A family… That's never going to be us, is it?"
Truth be told, he hasn't thought much about his ability (or lack thereof) to produce children with the woman he loves. He didn't think she thought much of it either. Lois was never great around kids, never acted like she had any interest in becoming a mother.
"I know it's silly," she tacks on to fill the uncomfortable silence she still can't stand. "I just… Looking at them tonight… Seeing how happy they are…"
His stomach twists. "You're not happy?"
"God, Clark… Yes, I'm happy…" She takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly. "I'm so happy… But sometimes it just hits me… The things I'm—"
"Giving up to be with me," he finishes for her as the twisting in his stomach becomes more like a vice. He's been waiting for this moment for years. Waiting for her to realize exactly what being with him means. And now she'll leave and—
She kisses him firmly, successfully pulling him from his thoughts. "But I'm not going anywhere if that's what your stupid ass was thinking just now. You can't get rid of me that easily."
It's not the first time they've had this conversation because he gets lost in his own head. He just can't shake the feeling that someday it's going to end differently. Just like it has with everyone else he's loved.
"Look, you asked me what's wrong and that's it, so…" She shrugs and tries to scramble away from him.
"Lois." Effortlessly, he reaches out and grabs her arm. She yields immediately and looks up at him with wide eyes. He sighs. "I don't know if I can… Have children. I wish I had answers for you, but I just don't know. It's never really been an issue until now."
She shakes her head vehemently, chocolate curls flying wildly. "That was unfair of me to even ask. It's not even like we have room in our lives for kids now, or maybe ever, and I just—"
"But there's no one I would rather find out with than you." He places a long finger over her lips.
Lois smiles up at him. "And there are other ways we can make a family even if you can't… We can adopt. I mean, it worked out pretty well for your parents." She crawls back into his arms and rests her head in the space between his ear and shoulder. When they're like this, skin to skin and as close as they'll ever be, she likes to listen to his heartbeat. His incredibly human heartbeat. That steady lub-dub that reminds her that he is here and safe and she should be grateful. There are too many nights she sleeps alone and worries.
"One would assume," she postulates before she does something silly like cry again, "that since the Luthors successfully combined your DNA with Lex's to make Conner, that ours could combine in a more natural setting to make something too."
Clark groans. "Can we maybe not talk about my brother who is also my lovechild with my mortal enemy while I've got you naked in my bed?"
She nods gravely, but there's a hint of a smile on the edges of her mouth. "It does seem like a waste."
He grins and then leans in to kiss her deeply.
They might regret this night in the morning when stories need to be filed and sources need to be interviewed and there isn't enough caffeine in the world to keep Lois from biting the copyboy's head off. But right now they are together and they are in love and there's nothing he wants more than to prove it to her.