A/N: Sorry, it's been so long. Real life has been a real pain lately. That being said, I hope you enjoy. Please note that this one takes place between episodes 10x03 "Supergirl" and 10x04 "Homecoming."
Cat Grant has done something terrible to her desk chair and try as she might, Lois just can't seem to adjust it back to her liking. Decorating every available inch of her desk in Pepto Bismol pink was bad enough, but this is simply unforgivable. You just don't mess with someone's chair.
Her back aches terribly and even though she knows that part—most—of that is due to the almost twenty-four hours she spent in and out of planes and airports two days ago, she's more than willing to blame Cat and whatever she did to her otherwise perfectly comfortable office chair. And why the hell had Lois chosen to wear her tightest, shortest pencil skirts and highest heels to her first few days back to work?
Across from her, at his own desk, Clark clears his throat and smiles at her when she catches his eye.
Ahh, yes. That's why. Damn it.
She'd spent so much time imagining her reunion with Clark upon her return from Africa that when it came, it hadn't even felt real. She couldn't count the times she'd thought about hugging him again, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her into his body. She couldn't remember the words she'd played and replayed in her head while she thought up the perfect thing to say to him when they were finally reunited, although she knew it definitely wasn't the wisecrack about Gordon Godfrey she'd come up with off the cuff.
And then he'd been there, all broad shoulders and hands shoved casually into his pockets, looking every bit as wonderful as he had in her memories of him. And his arms had found her waist like no time had passed at all. As she breathed him in, she wanted to kick herself for running away again. This was Clark she's talking about. There is no distance great enough to kill the feelings between them.
Screw Ollie and his comments about her always wanting to ruin things before something else gets in the way. Especially since he'd let her walk into his coming-out press conference blind and then told her that he expected her article to be truest to form, even though it went against almost all of her journalistic integrity to write about Oliver-Queen-as-Green-Arrow since she'd dated the bastard.
But she doesn't have any intention of no longer writing her articles about the Blur…
Randall thought it added an interesting angle to the piece that none of the other news outlets would have. "Look, Lane, everyone's reporting that Oliver Queen is Green Arrow," he'd said, after Lois's millionth refusal to write the piece. "But no one else has a reporter who is finding out about this after being in a serious relationship with him." Then he'd told her he wanted the story ready to go by the morning edition and slammed his office door on his way home. Editors don't work late on Saturdays, even when their reporters, who have just returned from Africa, are.
Lois simply hadn't had the heart to tell him that she'd known about Oliver's secret identity for years. There's no telling what response that angle would have gotten her.
Maybe it's jetlag or possibly a subconscious writer's block, but either way, Lois can't make herself write the story. She's been staring at the blinking cursor on her monitor for the better part of an hour. It's getting close to midnight and all she wants to do is go home, take off her ridiculously uncomfortable clothes—which Clark hasn't even seemed to notice—crawl into bed, and sleep until Monday morning. Unfortunately, she knows she can't go anywhere until that damn story is finished and sitting in the server, ready to go on Sunday's front page. She can see the headline now: Green Arrow's Ex Speaks! And she thought she left the Inquisitor.
She sighs and leans back in her seriously messed up chair, rubbing her temples in a vain attempt to alleviate the pressure settled there.
Quickly, just a little too quickly to be entirely human (how did she miss the signs for so long?), Clark's fingers replace hers, and he rubs slow, deliberate circles on the tender skin. A soft moan escapes her lips before she can stop herself. She missed him.
"You've certainly had an exciting first few days back," he says quietly.
"Mmm…" she responds at first, and then realizes that actual words may be required. They're alone. And they're talking. "Your cousin and Oliver both showing up to the superhero party is bound to keep a girl busy. It's just lucky I was here. Somehow I don't think Miss Grant would have been up to the challenge."
"Lucky…" His hands move from her temples to her neck. "Are you going to be much longer with your story?"
She scoffs. "I haven't written a damn word. It might be an all-night thing. You can go."
"I could," he responds. "Or… We could grab coffee and head back to the farm."
She opens her eyes and cocks an eyebrow at him. There's no doubt in her mind that she drew a line in the sand when she left for Africa, even if he told her to go. Their relationship has been anything but easy, but now that she knows,everything makes so much more sense. And is so much harder. That Mystery Science 3000-version of Lex hadn't been wrong about her.
But neither had Carter. Clark needs her, apparently, to become the man he's meant to be, and if that isn't a calling to be greater than she ever thought she could be, she doesn't know what is. You can't fight destiny, she supposes. Isn't destiny what brought her back to Kansas in the first place?
But Clark was so awkward and standoffish when asking if they were still partners… There's been no mention of their actual relationship and he still hasn't told her about his abilities…
He holds up his hands, obviously taken aback by her hesitation. "No strings, Lois. No expectations. I just thought it might be a good idea for you to get away. Sometimes it's easier if you step away for a while and then come back to it."
She sighs. Is he talking about her story or their relationship?
"And…" He ducks his head, as if he too is realizing the weight of his words. "I thought maybe we could catch up."
"Clark, it's almost midnight."
He shrugs. "I don't have plans for tomorrow. It's Sunday."
There's something he isn't saying, she can see that much in his eyes. Coffee would be welcome, however, and she's missed the farm almost as much as she missed him.
"Okay," she says, saving the document, and her decision feels monumentous. "Let me grab my stuff."
She's completely exhausted, but the promise of her favorite coffee and the pressure from Clark's hand on her waist as he walks her into the café is enough to keep her going. The she sees her favorite barista behind the counter and she grins broadly because he always slips extra espresso shots into her drinks without charging her for them. Lois slips a five dollar bill into the Karma Jar as Clark pays for their drinks, not only for the extra caffeine, but also because she figures you can never use too much good karma, especially when you may or may not be in a relationship with the Blur and his alter-ego.
She sips her coffee silently as Clark steers his truck onto the freeway towards Smallville. He keeps glancing over at her and smiling that tiny half-smile that only Clark can pull off without looking like a complete moron and she can help but laugh. There's a lot of small talk—the weather's been fair, for the most part, which is good news for the upcoming harvest. He asks about her dad and Lucy. She asks about his mother and Shelby. They purposefully avoid talking about their relationship.
When the city lights give way to mostly corn fields and she's drained the last of her now-cold coffee, she rests her forehead against the cool glass of the window. Just before she slips into a light sleep, she feels Clark's fingers brush the inside of her palm as he reaches for her hand.
"Lois…" His voice is low as he coaxes open the door and rouses her from her slumber.
She blinks a few times and offers him a small smile as she breathes in the smell of the farm. The earthy, damp scent has always been one of her favorite things about this place. It just feels like home.
Clark helps her from the truck and grabs her bag from the floorboard. They stand side by side against the truck, looking up into the Kansas sky.
She sighs. "It looked so different in Africa."
"You were on the other side of the world," he says simply.
"It was more than that…" She stops herself before she admits that it was lonely knowing that she and Clark could never see the moon at the same time. Lois slugs him on the shoulder half-heartedly. "Come on, Smallville. I've got a story to write."
The words come surprisingly easy this time around, whether it was the coffee, the nap, or the distance that helped, she isn't sure. Either way, it takes barely forty-five minutes for Lois to write and Clark to edit the story. She is glad he'd offered to read through it for her—not only because she knows she tends to ramble when she's tired, but also because she'd tried to make it abundantly clear that she supported Oliver in his decision to reveal himself as Green Arrow, even if a lot of people wouldn't. If Clark picks up on the subtext, though, he doesn't mention it. He wouldn't, she guesses. He's spent a lot of time pretending to be ordinary.
Once Clark has place his stamp of approval on the story, she moves it into the server. While he heads upstairs to make up the guest bed for himself, Lois leans back into the couch and pulls a blanket to her chest, breathing in the smell of him. God, she's missed this. She's missed everything about him.
She closes her eyes and might even doze off, because the next thing she knows, Clark is clearing his throat. "You look uncomfortable."
She shrugs. "My toes went numb a few hours ago. It hasn't been so bad since then." If she hadn't fallen asleep on the ride home, she would have demanded he take her by the Talon for a change of clothes.
He smiles and pulls her favorite of his flannel shirts from behind his back. "Don't feel obligated, but if you get really uncomfortable…"
Lois jumps off the couch and grabs the soft fabric from his hand. Then, out of habit, she rises to her tiptoes to kiss him. As soon as her lips brush the stubble on his cheek, her breath catches and she realizes her mistake. Clark stands still while she lowers herself and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well…" she says quietly as her cheeks blaze. "I guess I'm gonna…" She waves the shirt awkwardly and heads up the stairs for the bathroom.
She pulls on the blue and white flannel and tugs it as far down on her thighs as she can. He's always thought it was sexy when she wore his shirts, but now she worries that it might be inappropriate. She's not worried enough about it to try to sleep in that damn pencil skirt, though. Besides, it's not like they'll be sharing a bed. She knows she'll still sleep better tonight than she has in weeks—she always sleeps better at the farm—but she's kidding herself if she pretends that she won't miss being wrapped in his arms.
Lois washes her face and brushes her teeth, grateful that he's at least left her toiletries from the other chaste nights she's spent at the farm. She can't suppress a tiny smile—he always knew she'd be back.
He's waiting for her in the master bedroom, with a glass of water and her favorite of Martha's handmade quilts. "I know you get cold," he says sheepishly.
"Thanks." Lois nods and can't help the smile that spreads across her face at the gesture. She'd never understood how he could stand the drafty bedroom, but now that she knows he's the Blur… Jesus, everything makes more sense now that she thinks about it.
He heads to the door, but stops before he crosses the threshold. "Lois… If I didn't tell you… I'm really glad you're back." Clark pauses, watching her, waiting for something she isn't sure she can give him.
She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, silently weighing her options. She's tired, there's no mistaking that, but tomorrow is Sunday and she's been away from him for so long…
"Okay, well…" He resigns himself and nods curtly. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Clark," she says quickly before he can step out of sight. "Do you think we could talk for a while?"
He smiles at her then, a true, radiant, Clark Kent smile and he shuts the door behind him. "I'd like that."
They talk about everything and nothing, sitting cross-legged on the bed they've shared on so many nights in the past. He asks about Africa and she tells him it was hot and very sandy and mostly a waste of time and the Planet's frequent flyer miles.
"I love Perry, really, he's amazing…" she says with a laugh, munching on one of Martha's chocolate chip cookies, left over from her visit last weekend. "But the Planet needs me on an international desk like I need a hole in the head."
Clark grins. "Well, puff pieces never were your style. You do better digging for dirt than digging in it."
"Exactly!" She tips her cookie at him in acknowledgement and leans back to rest against the headboard beside him. "God, I missed this," she says before she can stop herself. She holds her breath, hoping against hope that Clark might have missed her slip-up. From the way he studies his palms, she knows she isn't that lucky.
"I missed you," he says quietly after a long moment of silence. "I know I told you to go, but I am really glad you came back."
She just nods, sensing there's more.
"With Chloe gone and Oliver… Well."
She watches him carefully as a myriad of emotions crosses his strong features. He looks conflicted for a second, then sad, then confused.
"Lois," he says slowly, "you're my best friend."
It's not an admission of undying love, but to be fair, she isn't sure she's ready to give him that either. It's not even an offer to date again… But it is Clark Kent baring his soul to her in a way she's never seen before. He's always been so guarded, so protected, and now she understands exactly why.
She reaches into the space between them and grasps his hand, lacing her fingers through his.
She wakes just before one on Sunday afternoon to find herself curled against Clark's body, his mother's quilt thrown haphazardly over her legs. Old habits die hard.
She tries to extricate herself from him, but his arms tighten around her waist, and he buries his nose deeper into her hair and moans ever so softly… So she sighs and tangles her feet with his and closes her eyes before she falls back into the most perfect, uninterrupted sleep.
A/N: Thank you so much!