A/N: Because August 17 is traditionally recognized as Lois's birthday, I thought this would be appropriate. Please enjoy!
Superman is suddenly more popular than ever, and when she really takes the time and thinks about it, she's grateful for that. It's everything Clark has ever wanted: to give hope to the people of Metropolis—and the world—by being a proud representative of truth, justice, and the American way. But she's beginning to think that Clark's inability to tell her no isn't due solely to her sex appeal. Lately it seems like he can't tell anyone no.
So far this week he's gone to three ribbon cuttings, accepted the keys to two different cities, and shot par at a charity golf tournament. She is proud of him, undoubtedly so, but she feels like it's been years since they've had any alone time. And moments like this one, when they're both hunched over their desks editing copy at the Planet, definitely do not count. She needs alone time with him.
"Do you have any plans tonight?" She can't help but feel like she's trying to pick up a one-night stand instead of scheduling time with her fiancé of almost three years.
Clark slowly looks up at her over the top of his glasses. "I have patrol, like most nights…"
"But no galas?" she continues, trying not to sound as angry as she feels. "No baseball games where you're throwing out the first pitch? No autographs to sign? Are you becoming the mayor of anywhere tonight?"
"Lois…" He tugs the glasses from his face and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Why don't we save time, cut through all the passive-aggressiveness, and skip to the part where you just tell me what's wrong?"
"I miss you, Clark." She tosses down her pen in frustration. Has he really been so busy that he doesn't even realize it's been almost a week since he last kissed her goodnight?
He heaves a sigh and reaches for her hands. "I know I've been really busy lately and I'm sorry that you feel ignored."
Somehow this apology isn't making her feel any better.
"But, honey, I—Superman has a responsibility to the people of the world—"
"I understand that, but what about Clark Kent's responsibility to his fiancée?" She chews her lip for a few moments. There's one card she can play, but she's been saving it because she doesn't like to think about it and she knows it will just make him feel bad. She hates making him feel bad for wanting to save everyone, but damn it if she isn't tired of sleeping by herself. She lowers her voice. "Clark, do you realize that it's been ten days since we had sex?"
His eyebrows knit together. "No… The last time was right before we went to visit my mom in Washington—"
"—where Superman delivered an address on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, endorsing Senator Martha Kent's plan for education reform, which kicked off your whirlwind publicity tour." Lois reaches into her desk drawer and produces a copy of the Planet from last Thursday. "I'm pretty certain of the date on that, Clark. We wrote the story, after all."
He blushes as he reads the date on the proffered newspaper. Then he tosses it to the side and perches on the edge of her desk before he leans in to kiss her softly. "I'm sorry, Lois."
She sits back in her chair and sighs. "Are we becoming a boring married couple that eats TV dinners in the dark and never talks?"
"That's impossible." He scoffs. "We aren't married yet."
She slugs him on the shoulder, a hard habit to break, even though by now she knows it hurts her more than it does him. "I'm serious. This is unprecedented. We've never gone ten days. I mean, it was months before we even took nights off... Oh, God. It's me, isn't it? You're tired of me."
"Hardly." He kisses her again, deeper this time, and full of so much more than he can give her in their glass-walled office. Lois has no doubt that if Clark had his way, their drought would end right there on her desk. But he composes himself—ever the professional—sits back, and smiles at her. "I have to patrol tonight. And tomorrow, I'm working on some stuff at Watchtower with the League… But tomorrow night… The Metropolis Grand Hotel. Ten o'clock. Wear something sexy and those ridiculous black heels. And leave your hair down. I'm all yours, I promise."
The practical part of her brain forces her to ignore the coil of heat that's built in her core. "Clark," she says softly, "we can't afford the Metropolis Grand."
"Ahh, but the hotel gave Superman a pass to use whenever he wants." He bends close to her ear and the hot breath on her tender skin makes goosebumps erupt over her entire body. "I'm sure he could be persuaded to let his good friend Clark borrow it for a night…"
"Ten o'clock," she agrees breathlessly. "Don't be late."
She's been waiting for Clark for what feels like hours, perched on the edge of the uncomfortable barstool, her feel throbbing painfully in his favorite of her highest heels, nursing a Manhattan she doesn't remember tasting. He's late, almost an hour so, and normally that wouldn't bother her—she'd just assume he was out saving the day again—but tonight is special for them and he'd promised he'd arrange for the other members of the League to take over for the night. Eleven days is somehow infinitely worse than ten, and if he doesn't touch her soon, she might just explode.
She pays little attention to the tall, dark-haired stranger that sits next to her at the bar. She just drains the rest of her not-quite-strong-enough drink and taps her foot impatiently against the barstool. "Come on, Clark…" she mutters as she props her chin in her hand.
"Can I buy you a drink?" the stranger says.
Lois cuts her eyes over to him. After three years of being engaged, she hardly registers men anymore, but that definitely hasn't stopped them from noticing her. It's like the engagement ring is a magnet. Even so, she gesticulates with her left hand as she shakes her head. "No, thanks. I'm waiting for someone."
"Do you see them?" He shrugs as she shakes her head. "Then have another drink. A beautiful woman shouldn't be allowed to drink alone."
"I'm engaged…" She waves the perfect diamond on her ring finger in his direction.
The stranger laughs. "Would you believe it if I told you I was, too?"
She narrows her eyes. "And you're still hitting on helpless women in bars?"
"Something tells me you're anything but helpless…" He makes no attempt to hide his gaze as it travels over the enhanced swell of her breasts (thank you, Victoria's Secret), the curve of her waist, and the smooth lines of her legs. "Especially in those shoes."
Lois can't suppress the smug smile that teases her lips upward. "Okay," she relents. "One drink. And then I have to head home."
The man next to her motions the bartender over and orders their next round. While they wait for the drinks, he grins at her. "So what do you do?"
"I'm a reporter at the city's largest newspaper," she says coyly. Ever since her exclusive interviews with Superman, she's been a lot more careful in admitting to strangers who she is. There are still people who are less than big fans of Clark and his merry league of vigilantes. "And what do you do?" She fishes the cherry from the bottom of her drink and pops it in her mouth, twirling the stem around her index finger. Jesus Christ, she's flirting. Well, at least she remembers how.
He takes a long drink of his gin and tonic. "I'm in law enforcement."
"Oh." That's a surprise. He certainly dresses better than most of the police officers she's met.
"You sound disappointed." He laughs.
"No, no. I just…" Lois sips her drink. "You just don't look like the type."
"Well, I mostly deal in private security." He winks.
She likes him, she decides. The conversation is easy, he seems truly interested in her… She should probably stop drinking now before this ends badly.
"So…" His voice drops low and when he peers at her, the lust in his eyes is evident. "What would it take for me to get the Daily Planet's star reporter up to my hotel room?"
She drains her glass and feels the corner of her mouth turn up of its own volition. "An invitation."
Two hours later, she's lying naked in the stranger's hotel room bed, clutching the sheets to her chest and giggling like she hasn't in years. "Law enforcement?"
Clark shrugs. "Well, I couldn't very well say that I, too, was a reporter at the city's largest newspaper. I had to maintain a bit of the mystery."
"No, no. You were very good. Very convincing." She laughs again and her head swims with giddiness. She guesses a glass of champagne, two cocktails at the hotel bar, and four earth-shattering orgasms will do that to you.
He smiles at her as he pours two glasses of champagne and returns to bed. "It's nice to hear you laugh like that, Miss Lane. I can't remember the last time I did, actually."
Lois sits up and accepts the flute from him. "Well, it's been a while since I've been this happy. At least ten days." She winks.
Clark leans close and kisses her gently. "Does bringing your being-picked-up-in-a-hotel-bar-by-a-stranger fantasy to fruition excuse me from my serious oversight?"
She presses a finger to her lips and pretends to consider. "Partially. But the night's still young… And my feelings were really hurt… And it is a special day…"
"Vixen," he mutters as she rolls onto her side and presses kisses to his bare chest. "But I guess I do have a lot to make up for…"
"Mmhmm…"
Gently, he wrests the champagne flute from her fingers and sets both glasses on the nightstand. He then wastes no time at all maneuvering her underneath him until they're just right, before he tangles his fingers in hers, and kisses a trail down her jawline back to the hollow just under her ear.
She gasps against his neck as his hips press flush against hers. "Best birthday ever."
A/N: Thank you all so much!