You Don't Forget a Kiss Like That

by mb9rr

When Clark kisses Lois in the bullpen, she notices it feels way more familiar than it should. After taking some time to investigate the situation, she faces it head on. My take on if Lois had recognized Clark's kiss from when he pretended to be Green Arrow. Takes place between the end of 9x06 and before 9x08. One-shot.

It always seemed like a little bit of a plot hole to me that Lois recognized Clark's kiss when she was under the influence of Red K, but then never recognized it when they started officially dating. I know there was a longer time in between, but especially because she later discovered he was the Blur because she recognized his kiss, it always seemed a little strange to me that she never put the pieces together. So here's my fix to that problem!

How could they? She thumbed the new advertisement and Mother Teresa stared right back at her with her perfect pearly whites, her perfect blonde hair, her perfect… everything. Of course, they had gone with Katherine Grant. Why wouldn't they? She was beautiful, smart, travelled, kind… she was the antithesis to the brash and ill-mannered Lois Lane. Who wouldn't want her?

She didn't want to answer her own question. Watching Clark sit and flirt with her had affected her far more than she cared to admit. The way he had smiled and laughed at Little Miss Perfect had flung daggers straight to the pit of her stomach. Any guy would have been enamored with her and as special as he was… Clark Kent was no exception. She didn't want to admit it, but she couldn't avoid it anymore. She wanted him. She wanted to be the one sitting across from him at dinner, talking and laughing at his terrible jokes, holding his hand, staring into his baby blues…

God, she was such a sap. Pull yourself together, Lane! She pushed her feelings about Clark to the side and focused on the annoyance that tugged at her heart. She was pissed. Even if Katherine Grant was blonde and beautiful, she didn't hold a candle to the duo that was Lois and Clark. The duo that they had wanted and pushed for! Why put them through all of that trouble just to tell them no?

"Lois?" Clark's voice filtered through her ears, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Not yet. She had to keep her irritation at the forefront of her thoughts or they'd drift into dangerous territory where he was concerned.

"Did you hear? The brilliant brass over at KZXP have decided to go with someone else for their morning show," she said and finally peeled her eyes away from the offending piece of paper to look at him. His white dress shirt clung to all of the right places, highlighting his rippling muscles, and he had his sleeves rolled halfway up, exposing his forearms. God, he looked good.

"Lois."

"After everything that happened, after Ollie and I almost got killed, guess who they decided to go with," she said and held the advertisement up in front of her. His gaze drifted down to look at the face of his date from the other night and she felt a wave of jealousy crash over her. "Apparently, blondes test better with morning viewers."

"Lois."

"I'm sorry," she said, dismissing whatever he wanted to say. Whatever it was, she didn't want to hear it. Not right now. "I never should have tried out in the first place or dragged you there with me, I just—"

One second she was ranting and the next, her lips were occupied by something else. Clark's lips, to be more specific. It took her all of two seconds to realize that she was in his arms and kissing him before her wide eyes fluttered shut and she gave in completely. Dear God, it was better than she had ever imagined. His lips were soft, but firm, coaxing hers to open against his own. Fingers pressed into her hips and lower back, sending shivers down her spine and causing her to involuntarily moan. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, in an effort to make the moment last. It was incredible. It was unfathomable. It was insatiable. It was—

Familiar.

The butterflies in her stomach all dropped dead as an overwhelming sense of déjà vu swept over her. Why did it feel like she had kissed him before? She had always assumed something had happened during their Valentine's Day fiasco years ago, but something in her gut told her that it wasn't that. No, she had been wide awake when she had kissed him. No kiss had ever affected her this way before. She felt it from her lips all the way down to her toes and back again. This was a one-of-a-kind sort of kiss. So why did it seem so familiar?

It hit her like a bolt of lightning.

She practically jumped away from him, leaving Clark grasping at air and falling forward into the space she had just been occupying. Oh, God. She had kissed him before. It had been years ago, during a time when she wouldn't have even admitted they were friends, let alone that she had feelings for him. She blocked out the top half of his face and focused on his lips, his jaw, and his chin before she suddenly found herself standing in a dark alley, wrapped in the arms of someone who, at the time, she thought was both Oliver and the Green Arrow. Oh, God.

"Lois?" he said, pulling her out of the memory. Blinking rapidly, she turned her gaze upward and found a piercing blue set of eyes staring apprehensively at her. She couldn't think. Not only had Clark Kent just kissed her in the middle of the bullpen, but she had just been slapped across the face with information that was both unbelievable, yet made all of the sense in the world.

Clark Kent was the Blur.

All of the times he had inexplicably disappeared, it had been because he could move at the speed of sound. All of the times that he had miraculously been there to save the day, it had been because it was second nature to him. All of the times he had acted so strange, so mysterious, and so… Smallville, it had been because he was Metropolis's greatest hero. He was the Blur.

The realization settled in her gut and she felt the overwhelming urge to both knock his teeth out and kiss him senseless. He had pulled the wool over her eyes for as long as she had known him and it stung more than she wanted to admit, but it was more than that. She was angry, that was for sure, but it dawned on her quickly that she was more upset with her inability to see him for who he truly was than she was mad that he didn't tell her.

"Lois, you're never speechless… you're kind of freaking me out," he said, shifting his weight to one foot. He shook her out of her thoughts again, but this time when she looked at him, she really looked at him. He looked both scared and embarrassed, but his feelings were the last thing on her mind. All she could do was stare at him. His broad shoulders, his perfectly sculpted arms, his expansive chest, his powerful stance… of course, he was more than just a mild-mannered farm boy. That she ever thought he was anything less than a hero was beyond her realm of comprehension now.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, don't," she finally managed to say. "I just… I need a minute. Or maybe a decade."

With that being said, she brushed past him and made a beeline straight for the elevator, praying to any god that would listen that he wouldn't follow her. She needed some serious space away from him right now or else she was going to say something she didn't mean. There was too much information that she needed to sort through before she could even think about talking to him. That he was the Blur was one thing, a huge thing, but that he had kissed her and obviously had feelings for her… that was something else entirely. The elevator doors opened and she walked straight inside, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard the doors close behind her.

Clark Kent was the Blur and he had feelings for her. Yep, she needed some to put some serious mileage between herself and Metropolis right now.

---

Two weeks later, Lois found herself pulling up to her apartment with a much clearer head and heart. Well, for the most part. She had still been experiencing brief flashes of images she couldn't explain and dreams that seemed to be way more real than on average, but when it came to Clark… she knew what she needed to do. Pulling her suitcase out from her trunk, she made her way up to her apartment and let herself in. She hadn't told anyone where she had gone and hadn't spoken to anyone, save the few text messages she had exchanged with Chloe and Clark letting them know that she was okay and just on a last-minute story.

It wasn't true. As soon as she had left the Planet that life-changing day, she had gone home, packed a bag, and started driving with no end in sight. She hadn't known where she was going until she saw the exit sign and made a decision. She drove for just over an hour non-stop until she found a suitable looking hotel and checked herself in. She had sent a quick text to Chloe to let her know that she wouldn't be in town for a while, but not to worry. Then she'd sent one to her editor, informing him that she was on the biggest lead of her life, which wasn't a lie per say, but it was also a problem that could wait for later. After that, she had turned her phone off for the day and let her mind process everything that she had learned.

She had gone through every emotion she could possibly think of. After the initial shock had worn off, she had been unbelievably pissed off. She had been angry at Clark for not trusting her and angry at Chloe for lying to her all of these years, but mostly, she had been mad at herself for not realizing who he was. All of the clues had been there, but she had been too blind to see them. When she had finished being angry, the hurt started to seep in. Was she not trustworthy enough? Did he think that her natural reporter instincts would have her shouting his secret to the world? Did he think that she would look at him any different? But when she started to think about their conversations, the ones where he had obviously used some sort of voice modifier, her wounds began to heal and the guilt started to set in. He was afraid.

Every time he had called her as the Blur, it had been because he had been trying to protect her. It was noble and stupid, but completely and utterly Clark Kent. He wanted to protect everyone he cared about because he could. He also carried around a massive guilt complex because of the ones he couldn't save. She had seen it first-hand after Alicia Baker had died. Then again, when his father had passed. She didn't know the true circumstances surrounding their deaths and if there was anything more to the stories she had been told, but she did know how much guilt and grief he had carried over both of the losses. Even if he hadn't chosen to share this part of his life with her, at the end of the day, she still knew Clark. He was trying to protect her and would probably never stop, especially knowing now that he reciprocated her feelings.

That, in itself, had been the harder of the two things to comprehend. She still wasn't sure that she completely believed it. Sure, there had been a brief moment at Chloe's wedding where she thought that there might be a chance that something more than friendship had been blossoming between them, but that had been totally trampled the moment Lana walked into the room. She knew something had happened between them when she was in Star City, but she didn't want to know. It wasn't her business and she wasn't sure she could handle hearing the details anyhow. Then, when she had returned to Metropolis, he had crushed any remaining hope she had about the two of them after he had failed to meet her for coffee.

But it was hard to ignore how he had been acting towards her after he had returned from Poughkeepsie or wherever the hell he had really been. The way he had looked at her and found any excuse to touch her had been the first red flag. Then, there was that moment they shared in the rain after she had been cured from whatever zombie-infection had ravaged the city. She had sworn he was going to kiss her then, but she had tucked her head under his chin before he had the chance. She had been too confused and overwhelmed to allow him to mess with anymore of her emotions at the time. Then, there was him asking her out and ditching her on their "like a date" and the way that he had flirted with her in an attempt to ask her out again. There were just too many signs that she didn't want to accept because at the end of the day, it scared the hell out of her.

She had loved him for a long time. She had admitted that to herself shortly after that psycho-jeweler had made her admit it to his face, even though she tried her hardest not to. It couldn't be avoided though. Every time she looked at him and spoke to him, the feeling grew bigger and bigger in her chest, until finally, it consumed her. But it didn't mean she was going to let him disappoint her again. She had tried and failed miserably to keep him at bay for as long as she could, but their kiss in the bullpen had sealed the deal. Even if he didn't feel as strongly as she did, he at least felt something. And she could work with something.

That first night in, she had stayed up most of the night trying to sort through her thoughts and feelings. Then the next day, she slept in until noon and didn't step foot outside of her hotel room. She had ordered room service and watched TV all day in an effort to distract herself, though it was futile. Her thoughts were consumed by Clark. Finally, the day after, she had opened her laptop and began searching for the one person she had come to this city for, whether he could help her or not. When she found his Facebook profile and the place where he worked, she finally left the hotel in search of the one and only person that might be able to shed some light on the situation: Pete Ross.

Chloe had talked to Lois about him a lot when she was in high school. If she hadn't known about her massive crush on Clark growing up, she would have thought Chloe had a thing for Pete, but her cousin had never expressed any feelings about him to her, aside from being really disappointed when he left Smallville. Chloe had been shocked that he decided to leave before their senior year, especially after talking so much about how he wanted to stay there for it. Between that and the litany of complaints she had gotten from her cousin about secrecy between the two boys, she had always wondered if something had happened to make him change his mind so suddenly. Knowing that information, the recent discovery of his true identity, and the fact that Clark always tended to get quiet whenever his name was mentioned, Lois was fairly sure that Pete Ross might have one or two answers for her, whether he wanted to give them to her or not.

"Excuse me? Are you Pete Ross?" she asked. She had seen pictures of him from high school and he hadn't changed all that much, but she still wasn't completely sure it was him. His hair was a little longer, both on his head and around his upper lip, and his face had slimmed down to show he was a man now, rather than a boy. He was taller than she had expected, but then again, everyone always looked small standing next to Clark.

"Yeah, that's me. Can I help you with something?" he asked. Taking a deep breath, she smiled and shook his hand.

"Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she said. "I had a few questions I was hoping you could help me answer."

"Lois Lane… wait, you're Chloe Sullivan's cousin, right?" he asked. When she nodded, he broke out in a huge grin. "How's she doing? I haven't talked to her in ages. Do you guys work together now?"

"She's good and not quite. Chloe worked at the Planet for a while, but it didn't end up being for her in the long run. But I do work with Clark. Clark Kent," she said, knowing full-well that he knew the Clark she had to be referring to. A quizzical expression crossed his face as he took in the information.

"Clark? A reporter? Wow, things really have changed. Chloe was always the bloodhound when it came to chasing down a hot lead. I never expected to hear Clark would be working in the news world," he said, then looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess it's not a huge leap, though. He did always seem to have a hand in helping Chloe with The Torch ."

"Not even a skip, if we're being honest. Especially considering how he spends most of his extra-curricular time," she said knowingly. Pete looked at her curiously for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

"Right... um, what exactly is it that I can do for you, Lois?" he asked. His guard was up now and she had to tread carefully if she wanted answers. She wasn't even completely sure that Pete knew his secret, but she wasn't a reporter for nothing. It was her job to find to the truth, no matter how well-hidden it may be.

"The thing is Pete… I found out some information about Clark recently that he doesn't know I know. In fact, no one knows that I know."

"Okay… I don't really know what you're talking about, but—"

"I think you and I both know exactly what I'm talking about," she said, cutting him off before he could start his voicing his denial. "I know just how special Clark is. I know what he can do and how much of a hero he is. I'm not looking for a scoop, I'd never betray him like that, it's just… I just found out the other day and it kind of totally threw me for a loop and I don't know who else to talk to about it."

Pete stared at her for a while, probably weighing his options. He had no idea who she was and if she was telling the truth, but she also knew now that there was no way he didn't know about Clark's secret. He had tried to deny any knowledge about Clark before she had even truly began saying anything. He looked around again before looking back at Lois and gestured toward a couple of stools by the bar. Thankfully, the concert venue he worked at didn't open until later in the day, so no one was around except for them. He was silent as they sat and peered at her thoughtfully.

"What is it exactly that you know?" he asked carefully. It was now or never.

"I know he's the Blur."

From there, it had been a relatively easy conversation. Everything poured out of her like a broken faucet. She told him anything and everything that she knew about Clark, some of which had surprised him, but at the end of her verbal marathon, he had only nodded and confirmed the truth. He had told her about growing up with him in Smallville and when he had first suspected that something was different about Clark. He also told her that he was the reason he had left Smallville. Pete felt guilty about it now, claiming that he should have been a stronger and more supportive friend, but at the time, it was the only thing he could do. There were some things, however, that he was evasive about. When she had asked about his powers, Pete had skirted around the subject and she let him. There were certainly still some things she didn't know about Clark, but she didn't need Pete to tell her. She didn't want him to. She just needed someone to talk to that understood. And he did.

He had to work that night, but he had invited her to lunch the next day and she filled him in on everything that Clark and Chloe had been up to since he left Smallville. He was heartbroken to hear about Jimmy, even if he didn't know him, and asked Lois to pass along his condolences. When she finished telling him about his old friends, she asked about his life. He told her about working as a roadie and how Clark had saved him from his own vengeance against the Luthors a few years ago. He was the manager of a small music venue now and enjoying living his life without the drama that had plagued him in Smallville. He had been dating a girl for a few years now and planned on proposing soon. Overall, he seemed to be happy living in Wichita, but admitted that he still found himself missing the small town from time to time.

Over the two weeks she spent in Wichita, she hung out with Pete a couple more times. He was an easy and comfortable person to be around. He didn't press her for any information she didn't want to share and she did the same. When he left her with an obscure answer, she let him, no matter how badly every instinct pushed her to continue questioning him. He didn't know her, yet he had treated her like she was an old friend. More than that, he helped her feel at peace with all of the things she had learned. He had let her ramble and rant without making her feel like a crazy person because he understood what it felt like to be in her shoes. When the end of her brief hiatus from home approached, she had thanked him profusely and promised to give his new nightclub a shining review.

Now, here she sat in her empty apartment, staring at her phone. The number was dialed, but her thumb hovered over the call button. A bundle of nerves had been building in her stomach for the past fifteen minutes at the thought of talking to him again. She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to keep the truth out of her voice. She had never been a very good liar and when it came to this, to Clark and her feelings for him, she doubted herself even more than usual. But whether it was fate or destiny or simply a stroke of luck, her choice was made for her when her phone began to ring.

"I need a hero… I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night…"

So, it'd be the Blur she was going to talk to first, huh? Part of her bristled at the fact that he was using the façade of the Blur to contact her before calling her as himself, but her anger quickly dissipated when she remembered that he probably knew she wouldn't answer him if he was calling as Clark. He had only texted her a couple of times while she was gone, but he had also called once as the Blur. She hadn't replied to him, except for a short text saying she was chasing a story, and she certainly hadn't answered his alter ego.

The anger that had welled up inside her when she heard that damn ringtone had almost made her answer and yell that she knew about him out of spite, but after the silence took over and the song began again, she calmed down and came to the conclusion she faced now. He wanted to talk to her, but he knew that he'd only push her away if he didn't give her space. Knowing that he knew her so well pushed the anger out of her heart and replaced it with a sense of satisfaction. Gearing herself up for the conversation, she took a deep breath and answered.

"Hello?" she said. God, her voice sounded pathetic. Had she always sounded that needy when she talked to him before?

"Miss Lane. It's good to hear your voice. I was starting to worry about you," he said, his emotion evident despite the deep mechanical voice he hid behind. She sucked in a breath.

"You know me, just been busy chasing down some leads. Nothing to worry about," she said. That was better. Her voice had evened out and she sounded much more nonchalant this time.

"Big story?" he asked. Nope. There was no way was he getting any information out of her that easily.

"Nothing for the front page," she replied. "What about you? Is there something I can help you with?"

"No, nothing really, I just… wanted to check in… and make sure you were okay," he said. That was strange. Any time he had called her, it had either been for information or to talk about one of his saves. Sure, he had asked her how she was before and inquired about her life, but he had always started the conversation off with business. She frowned and stood up, walking towards her window.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked. He didn't respond for a moment and she became even more intrigued. Had something happened to him? Had she missed something important while she was out of town? Was he okay?

"I'm not sure, I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called," he said. Now she was sure something was going on.

"But you did," she replied, before he could attempt to end the conversation. "Are you okay?"

Her question was answered with silence, though the answer was obvious. No, he wasn't okay. Something had definitely happened while she had been gone and a weight suddenly settled on her heart. Whatever it was, the fact that he was calling her meant that he needed someone to talk to and he felt that he couldn't do it as Clark Kent. So, she waited patiently, no matter how much she hated it, until he was ready.

"The other day… I met my father for the first time."

That was certainly the last thing she had been expecting. Clark met his birth father? She didn't know he had even been looking for him! A million and one questions filtered through her mind. Who was he? Where had he been all this time? What was he like? Why did he give Clark up? She had never asked him about his adoption simply because the Kents had always been his true parents in her mind. Clark had certainly never offered any information about his biological parents, so she never asked. It wasn't her place to question him anyhow. But now, as the questions flooded in, she realized that she couldn't ask a single one of them. He was still under the impression that she didn't know who he was and she had to keep up that façade, especially now that he needed her.

"You never knew your father?" she asked, hoping that she sounded believable.

"No. No, I just met him," he said. Even though his voice was disguised behind his voice modulator, she could hear the pain behind his words. Not only had he met his birth father, but it hadn't gone well. The weight on her heart grew heavier and she wrapped her free arm around her stomach as she gazed out the window. Looking out into the night sky, she took a breath and steeled herself for whatever he was going to tell her.

"What happened?" she asked. Again, she was met with silence. Fear trickled down the back of her neck at his lack of response, but again, she waited. Even though he obviously needed to talk, she was going to let him do it at his own pace.

"He died… in my arms."

It felt as if somebody had sucker punched her. Sinking down to the stool beside her, she pressed a hand to her mouth in disbelief. While she was off in Wichita trying to deal with her thoughts and feelings, Clark had met and lost his birth father in the most tragic way imaginable. Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she had to blink several times to keep them from falling. All she wanted to do was wrap him up in her arms and never let go, but she couldn't. As much as she wanted to comfort him right now, she also didn't want to cause him any more pain by revealing that she had discovered the secret he had tried so hard to hide. So, as much as it pained her, she continued to put up a front.

"I don't know what to say… I'm so sorry," she said. "I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

"Thank you. You don't need to say anything," he said, his voice somewhat strangled, but clipped. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she ran a hand through her hair and straightened her back. She had to do something. He might be the hero, but even he needed saving sometimes.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked. "I might not be able to move at the speed of sound, but if there's anything at all I can do…"

"You're doing it right now."

Her heart swelled. All he needed was someone to talk to and that someone was her. Even though Chloe and Oliver knew his secret, she was the one he was coming to with this. He felt comfortable talking with her, even if she didn't know his secret, or so he thought. Annoyance and anger briefly bubbled underneath her skin at the fact that he felt he couldn't talk to anyone else about this, but it dissipated quickly. Maybe it wasn't that he couldn't, maybe he just didn't want to. That thought warmed her to her core.

"Right. Well… good. I hope you know that I'm always here to talk, whether it's about superhero stuff or not," she said. She was fairly sure he knew that, but it didn't hurt to reassure him. He was stubborn, sometimes even more stubborn than she was, which was saying a lot, and she knew that if he ever felt like he had lost her as an emotional outlet, he'd only revert back into the brooding boy she met in that corn field years ago.

"You don't have to be. You shouldn't have to be," he answered. There was an edge to his voice that she couldn't place and she didn't like it. It was more than stubbornness… it was something more aggressive than that. What else had happened that was making him act this way? Her irritation flared. Even if he was hurting right now, he couldn't keep opening up to her, then shutting down. It wasn't fair. Not only was he hiding part of himself from her, but he was using that hidden side to his emotional advantage when it suited him. She had never minded before, but then again, she didn't know it was Clark. Now that she knew, she wasn't going to let him hide that side anymore.

"That's not really up to you," she countered. A deep sigh sounded from his side of the phone and her blood began to boil.

"Miss Lane—"

"Oh, don't you dare 'Miss Lane' me right now," she snapped. "You should know well enough by now that I don't like being told what to do, so save it. If you don't want to talk to me anymore, fine, but don't you dare tell me you need to talk and then backtrack on me when it suits you. That's not fair."

She waited for him to respond, but when he didn't, she felt a wave of confidence crash over her. If he wanted to talk to her, to really talk to her, he should have called her as Clark. He knew how much she loved being the Blur's confidant and the purpose that it gave her, so this meek and mild attitude wasn't going to fly. Not anymore.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you ever going to tell me?" she asked. She was met with silence. He knew exactly what she meant, but here he was, trying to avoid the mess he had gotten himself into. A twinge of irritation rocketed through her, but she tried to keep her emotions at bay. She was putting him in a tough position, even if he had dug the initial hole to begin with.

"Tell you what?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and fought the urge to scoff at him. If he wanted to play dumb, fine, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"Your name. Who you are. Why you're here."

"Knowing the truth about me puts you in danger. I can't have that," he said. Exactly what she thought. He was trying to keep her safe. He had always been trying to keep her safe. She wanted to wring his neck, to tell him that she would always be in danger because of who she was and to explain that if it meant being with him and being able to help him, she didn't care.

"Well, what if I don't care? And what if I already know?" she said. The second part slipped out before she had a chance to really think about it. She had meant to keep it a secret. She didn't want him to feel pressured to tell her because everyone had done that to him his entire life. But at the same time… she wanted him to know that it didn't matter to her. Whether she knew or not, it didn't change anything for her. She'd always be there for him, no matter what.

"If you did, you would have told me by now."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because it's who you are. It's what makes you a great reporter."

"Broad assumption for someone who barely knows me."

"I know you better than you think."

He might as well have hung a neon sign around his neck that said 'My name is Clark Kent.' It was like he was trying to tell her who he was without actually saying the words. If she hadn't known who he was before now, she liked to think that statement would have tipped her off, but in all honesty… she still wasn't sure. She had been so blind for so long about him that it made her second guess everything the thought she knew about herself.

"Exactly what I thought. But here's the thing… you're wrong. I'm not going to tell you," she finally said. As much as every bone in her body screamed at her to tell him that she knew who he really was and that it didn't change anything, she couldn't. Not yet. If he didn't want to tell her yet, she wasn't going to force him, no matter how badly she wanted it.

"No?"

"No."

"Why should I believe you know who I am, then?" he asked. She sighed and looked up at the sky. The moon was full tonight and the stars were shining down as brilliantly as they could through the light pollution from Metropolis. As much as she loved the city, there was nothing that could compare to the beauty of the clear night sky in Smallville.

"It really doesn't matter if you believe me or not. I just want you to know that I'll help you in whatever way I can now, knowing what I know. But I'm not going to tell you, because I want you to want to tell me."

He didn't answer. If she knew him like she thought she did, he was probably trying to figure out if she was lying or not. She hoped more than anything that he knew she was telling the truth because if he did, it meant he knew her just as well as she knew him.

"Lois…" he began, but she stopped him. She didn't want to pressure him into anything.

"Don't tell me if you aren't ready to admit it. I don't want to force you," she said. She heard him sigh and a wave of guilt washed over her. She shouldn't have said anything.

"Well, if you really know who I am, it's not like I have a choice, do I?" he asked, somewhat resigned. Shaking her head to herself, she turned away from the window and wrapped her free arm around herself.

"That's not true. I'm giving you one right now," she reiterated. He had to know that she'd never force him to tell his secret. She wouldn't be like everyone else in his life. She couldn't.

"I want to tell you… it's just… I've never told anyone before," he admitted. She blinked. He had never told anyone before? Why was he lying to her? He had obviously told Pete, Chloe, and Oliver, and she would bet anything that he told Lana, too.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "There's got to be someone that knows who you are."

"Anyone who knows anything about me has found out themselves. I've never willingly told anyone before."

She closed her eyes. Poor Smallville. Not only did he carry the burden of being different, but he had never been given the chance to tell anyone himself. Her heart ached for him and she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and reassure him that he never had to feel that kind of pressure with her. Not now and not ever.

"Well… then I stand by my statement. I won't fess up if you won't, but no pressure. I'm here either way," she said. She meant it. If he didn't want to tell her out of some chivalrous notion that it would keep her safe, that was fine by her. She would still do what she could for him and protect him as best as she could, even if it meant lying to his face. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to keep it up, but if it meant that he still felt he could trust her, both as Clark and the Blur, then she'd do whatever it took for him to feel that way.

"Thank you, Lois," he said, after a brief pause. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn that she heard his voice waver beneath the voice modifier.

"You're welcome," she said. Both of them were quiet and she felt the conversation coming to an end, but before she could let it, she found herself speaking again. "Can I ask you something else?"

"What is it?" he asked. She swallowed and weighed her options. Would she be pressing him if she kept talking or simply trying to give him proof that she knew without completely blurting it out? In the end, her journalistic nature won out and the words rolled off of her tongue.

"I'm not sure if you remember, but… a couple of years ago, you pretended to be Green Arrow, didn't you?"

The silence was deafening for a moment. His lack of response told her that their kiss in the alley was replaying in his head right now, just like it had for her when he kissed her in the bullpen. The mere thought of both of those kisses made her shiver in delight.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said nonchalantly. She felt her body flush with frustration.

"Are you seriously going to do that right now?" she bit back. She hadn't meant to get angry with him, but she couldn't let the lies continue to pile up. If he didn't want to tell her he was the Blur, fine. But that didn't mean he was getting off scot-free.

"No... I'm sorry, you're right. I was just trying to do a favor for a friend," he said, after a moment, and she relaxed. Good. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep the charade up if he had tried to lie to her again.

"Yeah, well, Ollie's never been great at keeping secrets. It's okay, though, I'm not mad at you," she said. Before she could stop herself, before she could really think about the repercussions of her words would bring, her mouth started moving again. "I mean, how could I be, when you kissed me like that?"

She could cut the tension with a knife. She had no idea where he was in the world, but it was almost as if she could see his reaction. His blue eyes were open wide in surprise, his mouth hung open just a little bit, and his shoulders were stiff as a board. She had rendered him speechless yet again, but this time when he spoke, he didn't try to hide the obvious satisfaction in his voice.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who kissed me," he said. She grinned fully at his flirtatious banter and couldn't stop herself from flirting back.

"Oh, I know, but you kissed me back. You see… you don't forget a kiss like that. Ever."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Her throat dried up at the realization that she may have just blown her cover entirely. Clark might be naïve with certain things, like inappropriate innuendos and the reality that some people aren't as good as he wished they were, but she was sure as hell that he wasn't oblivious enough to miss what she had just said. Her eyes shut and she inwardly cursed herself. Why Lois? Why did you have to open your big mouth and keep talking? Why couldn't you just shut up for once in your life and let things play out as they should?

It was over. There was no way that wouldn't tip him off that she knew his secret. But maybe it was for the best. Even if he knew, now he was back in control. He could pretend he didn't know and they could just go back to how things were before. She could just pretend that she didn't know he was the Blur and it would be like nothing ever happened… right?

"Lois?" he said. She heard him speak, but she couldn't find the words to respond, so she didn't. "Close your eyes."

She didn't say a word, but she did as he asked. The second her eyelids fluttered shut, she felt a rush of air against her body. Her throat and chest constricted for a brief moment, but they expanded again before she could process what had happened. When she opened her eyes, she found that she was standing, still in her bunny slippers, in the middle of the living room at the Kent farmhouse.

A million thoughts entered her brain at once. Why had he brought her here? Where was he? Was this his way of revealing his secret? Was he angry with her? What was he going to say? Was he going to say anything at all? What was she going to say? But any and all questions flew out of her head when the silence was disrupted.

"How did you know?"

Standing not five feet away from her was Clark Kent, donned in all-black everything, including a ridiculous looking trench coat, except for the contrasting bright-white symbol of the Blur that was printed across his chest. She briefly wondered where he must have gone to print such a shirt, but the thought escaped her as soon as their eyes connected. His blue eyes were dark and hard with emotions. They weren't angry, but they weren't welcoming either. His stance was defensive, his fists and his jaw were clenched, and it looked as if he would fly out of the house without a moment's notice. But she wouldn't allow that. Not now. Not after he had finally revealed himself to her. A breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding in escaped her and she took an involuntary step towards him.

"I told you: you don't forget a kiss like that."

He bristled, maybe even blushed, but his posture didn't budge an inch. Still, she knew that her comment had affected him in more ways than one. She didn't know exactly what he was feeling nor what he was thinking at the moment, but she knew that she wanted to do everything she possibly could to make it better. For both of their sakes.

"I'm sorry," she said. He frowned, but she kept going. "I meant what I said earlier. You didn't have to tell me, but I know that little slip-up probably forced your hand, so… I'm sorry, Clark."

He just looked at her. His face was blank, devoid of any emotion, and it was unnerving, to say the least. He had always been easy to read emotionally, but right now, it was if she was staring at a brick wall. She wasn't used to it and she certainly didn't like it. Growing up in the military world had always trained her to expect the unexpected, so she was always on her guard, but with Clark, she had always been on offense. But now, her back was to the end zone and she was down by forty with two minutes to spare. She felt almost… hopeless.

And it only got worse when he, of all things, snorted at her.

"I've been lying to you for years, but you're the one who's sorry?" he asked, a wry smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. She felt as if she had been slapped. Who was this man standing in front of her and what had he done with Clark Kent?

"I never claimed to make any sense," she managed. Again, his face became void of any expression, so she did her best to keep the conversation rolling with the ball in her court. "I never wanted you to feel like you had to tell me. I know you've dealt with questions about your secret your whole life and I didn't want to be another Monday night rerun for you."

That managed to break through his steely exterior. The way his shoulders started to sag, his mouth turned down, and his eyes started to morph into that damn puppy dog stare that always seemed to persuade her to do whatever he wanted without actually asking all alerted her to the fact that his hardened Blur persona was starting to crack.

"Lois, I…" he began, but she held her hands up to stop him. He didn't move when she took a hesitant step towards him, but she didn't press her luck after taking another.

"Look, just let me talk for a minute, okay? You don't owe me anything. You don't owe me an explanation about who you are or what powers you have or why you do what you do because at the end of the day… I know you," she said, the emotion in her voice betraying her, yet again. "I know that you'd do anything for anyone that needed help, let alone your family and friends, because that's just who you are. That's who your parents raised you to be. The rest of it… it doesn't matter to me, okay?"

Silence permeated the room as he simply stared at her. His typical light blue eyes were a dark navy as he looked at her and she was too entranced by them to notice he had gravitated towards her until she felt his breath against her face. Her attempt to take a step back and regain control of her senses was foiled when he took hold of her hands, tugging her towards his solid frame. A ripple of heat coursed throughout her body at his touch and she prayed desperately that there was no blush in her cheeks, but when his fingers ghosted across her skin, the worry dissipated.

"I don't think you know how much that means to me," he said, his voice cracking with emotion while his indigo eyes bore into hers. When she didn't reply, simply because she couldn't think of a coherent response, his stare travelled to her lips and she felt herself leaning in. But just as his lips ghosted across hers, she placed a hand on his hard chest and closed her eyes.

"Smallville, wait…" she whispered. Even without looking at him, she could tell she had hurt his feelings by the way his shoulders slumped. She didn't mean to reject him, but she needed to screw her head on straight before she could even begin to think about going down that road. A deep sigh escaped him as he took a step back and she made the mistake of meeting his eyes, which had lost all of their lust and had instead been replaced with total rejection.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" he began, but her hands were anchoring him to the spot before he could take another step away from her.

"No!" she interrupted. He looked at her curiously and she huffed in an attempt to not only compose herself, but make him understand how she felt. "I mean, you didn't do anything wrong, just… one thing at a time, okay?"

A look of understanding crossed his features and after a moment, he nodded. This time, she let him slip out of his grasp, but only so he could shove his hands in his pockets.

"I guess that's fair," he said. She gave him a half smile, hoping he understood her feelings, but not entirely sure. After a moment, he looked down and frowned before clearing his throat. "Um, give me a second. I'm gonna change really quick."

"Okay—wow, and that was an actual second," she said, interrupted by a gust of wind and the sudden change from his black attire to his typical red shirt and jeans. "Guess I'm gonna have to get used to that."

"I know it's a lot to take in…" he said, guilt starting to bloom in his eyes, but she waved a hand in front of him before he could start brooding. She had already dealt with enough of that tonight and she wasn't quite ready to handle another pity party.

"It's nothing I can't handle. I mean, you're still Smallville. It's just the actual blurring that threw me off. Plus, I've had two weeks to wrap my mind around it," she said. Something about seeing him standing there in his casual clothes made her feel unnaturally self-conscious in her sweatpants and bunny slippers, even though he had seen her dressed in far worse. The fact that she was wearing one of his flannels she had stolen from him only added to the feeling, so she took a seat on the couch to try and distract herself.

"Speaking of which, where have you been?" he asked. He didn't make a move to join her on the sofa and she was thankful. The more space that they had between them right now, the better.

"Wichita. I went to see your friend, Pete," she said and watched his eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline. She wasn't shocked at his reaction, but she had to admit, a small part of her had wondered and secretly hoped that he had kept tabs on where she was after she bolted. The larger part of her would have been annoyed at his invasion of her space and she definitely would have given him a piece of her mind about it, but she couldn't deny that one tiny, insecure side of her wished that he would have already known.

"Pete Ross?" he asked. The shock in his tone and eyes was evident, but so was the defensiveness in his body language. She could only imagine the thoughts that were swarming around in his head.

"No, Pete Wentz," she deadpanned. "Yes, Pete Ross. And before you get your panties in a bunch, he didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

"How did you…?" he began, but she waved him off.

"I'm not a reporter for nothing, Smallville. Chloe told me how close the three of you were in high school and how abruptly he left before senior year. It didn't take a whole lot of guesswork to put two and two together," she explained and threw her legs up on the sofa.

"Reporter or not, I think you're the only one who could have figured that out," he said. She almost wanted to roll her eyes at how impressed he looked, but she fought the urge. He was trying to pay her a genuine compliment and as much as she loved to bust his chops, she didn't think right now was the appropriate time to do it. Besides, she knew that he was steering the conversation off course and she would be damned if she wasn't going to stay in the driver's seat tonight.

"As much as I love to hear a compliment, why don't you ask what you want to ask," she said with a knowing look. Throwing her a sheepish smile, he just shrugged and sank into the rocking chair across from her. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, eyes locked on the coffee table in front of them.

"What exactly did Pete tell you?" he asked carefully, before flicking his hesitant eyes towards her. She could practically see the wheels in his head turning, despite what she had already told him, so she nipped his worries in the bud before he could start brooding.

"Like I told you, he didn't sell you out, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, I did most of the talking," she said and watched a grin spread across his face.

"Imagine that," he said, dodging the pillow that flew across the room at him.

"He only confirmed what I knew. I had a lot of questions, but he didn't answer a lot of them. He's a good friend," she said, watching the apprehension in his eyes fade away and be replaced with something much more solemn. The energy in the room shifted immediately. The banter was gone and the brooding farm boy had stepped into the space once more.

"He's a much better one than I was," he said. A frown had made its way back to his face and he stared at the ground. As much as she understood the guilt that he shouldered, she couldn't help but want to smack him upside the head sometimes. He seemed to be able to find a reason to feel guilty about every little thing out of his control and even though she was used to it, she was tired of it.

"Don't start. He told me how guilty he felt for not being stronger back then and how much he misses you and Chloe. He also told me about how you saved him from Baldilocks a few years ago, so I think he'd argue that you're the better friend in this scenario," she countered. His eyes snapped to hers, wide and disbelieving, but as soon as he attempted to argue with her, she cut him off.

"But if I hadn't—"

"—been his friend? Been born? Stop with the guilt complex, you know I'm not going to put up with that," she said, effectively stopping his argument before it could really begin. He opened his mouth to argue, but then thought better of it. Instead, he stared at the fireplace in deep thought. Before she could blink, there was a fire blazing in the hearth and she nearly jumped at the shock. Her eyes shot to Clark, who hadn't moved a muscle, but also didn't seem surprised.

"You must have made one hell of a boy scout," she whispered. Her eyes darted back and forth between the fireplace and Clark, whose gaze did not waver at her comment.

"You should tell Oliver that one, he'd love it," he muttered as a sour expression flashed across his face. Whether it was because of memories of Pete or his mention of Oliver, she didn't know. Either way, it wasn't important. At least, not right now. Instead, she grabbed ahold of his comment about another hero-by-night she knew and used it as a segue.

"So you and Ollie, huh? How long have you known about Robin Hood?" she asked, finally provoking a reaction from him. The disgruntled look on his face disappeared and was replaced by an expression she had become most familiar with over the years: guilt.

"We've known about each other since we met."

It felt like someone had plunged a twelve inch knife into her stomach and twisted, which was saying a lot, since she had actually been stabbed there before. It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. She had assumed that Clark and Oliver probably knew about each other, but she at least thought it might have taken some time. It had taken five years for her to learn the truth about Clark, but apparently it only took him twenty minutes to tell her ex.

"Why am I not surprised?" she mumbled. Suddenly she understood Clark's fascination with the fire. It turned out to be incredibly captivating, especially when trying anything to avoid making eye contact with the only other person in the room.

"Lois…" he began, but she shook her head, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"Stop. I don't want an apology, Clark. You don't owe me one," she said, finally gathering the strength to look him in the eye once more. As soon as she looked in those apologetic baby blue eyes she practically melted. He could get her with just one look and he didn't even know it.

"I don't?" he asked. The genuine innocence and confusion in his voice only proved her point and she nearly smiled at how oblivious he was.

"No. Your secret is your secret and Oliver's is his. Neither of you owe an explanation to anyone you don't want to give one to," she explained. She was doing her best to keep the bitter disappointment out her voice, though she wasn't entirely sure how well she was hiding it. Though her words were true, it didn't mean that it still didn't hurt that she was the last to know.

"You're the only person who's ever seen in that way," he said. The tormented look on his face had vanished and she sighed a breath of relief. At least the pity party was over. Well, for now.

As his words resonated with her, so did his expression. Ever since she'd found him in that cornfield, she had been able to read him like a book and from what she could tell, she was in major trouble right now because he had the same look in his eyes as he did before he planted one on her in the middle of the bullpen a few weeks ago.

"What can I say? I'm one of kind," she said. She meant it as a self-depreciating joke, but the way that his eyes sparkled as they trailed over her told her that he hadn't taken it that way at all.

"That you are."

She nearly ran for a knife in the kitchen, but she wasn't sure even that could cut the tension in the room. They were sitting on opposite sides of the living room, but she knew without a doubt that if she gave him any signal that she wanted him to, he'd be across the room in the blink of an eye. The smoldering look on his face was making it difficult to concentrate on anything but him and she nearly gave in to her desires, but the little voice in the back of her head screamed at her to take a step back before she dove headfirst into that arena.

"Right… well, just because you don't owe me an explanation doesn't mean I wouldn't love one," she said, anticipating his panicky reaction before the words left her mouth. "No pressure, but if you did want to explain how you kidnapped me from my apartment in the blink of an eye and how your fireplace just spontaneously combusted, I wouldn't object."

The size of Clark's hands had never been something she had really noticed before, but now, as they moved anxiously back and forth across his knees, she couldn't help but marvel at how large they were and the power that they undoubtedly possessed. He was quiet for a moment, but he looked more contemplative than anything, which was a win in her book.

"This… isn't going to be a short conversation. Are you sure you want to do this tonight?" he asked, glancing at the clock. She knew him well enough to know that part of him was being genuine in his offer to let her sleep, but a larger part of him was trying to put the conversation off. Shaking her head, she stood up and stretched her arms above her head, feeling immediate relief as her neck and shoulders popped with the movement.

"Stalling won't do either of us any good and you know it. You'd just brood and I'd hyper fixate, so let's save both of us some trouble and let me just put on a pot of coffee, then I'm yours all night."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to drop dead right then and there. What the hell was wrong with her? Heat flushed against her cheeks and she coughed in an effort to break the tension that she somehow couldn't avoid strengthening. As her eyes flickered to Clark, she noticed that the fire was either casting a healthy glow on him or that he was blushing just as much as she knew she was.

"I can make it if you—"

"No, I got it!" she interrupted, making a beeline for the kitchen. Distraction was key right now. "Don't you need to, I don't know… tie up any loose ends? Check the trees for falling cats? Clock out for the night?"

"Now who's stalling?" he asked with a laugh. Refusing to look at him until her heart stopped hammering against her chest, she carefully measured out enough coffee grounds for a full pot of coffee.

"I'm not stalling, I'm being considerate. There's a difference," she replied. She could brew coffee with her eyes closed, but right now, she was treating it like a nuclear science experiment.

"No, Lois. Everything seems to be quiet right now," he said. "But if I need to leave, I'll tell you, okay?"

The soft, sincerity of his voice worked wonders in calming her down and she felt the tension drain from her body almost immediately. Not only that, but it was the first indication that he was going to be truthful with her and that made her feel something else entirely.

"Okay," she said, fully intent on watching the coffee drip for the next several minutes, until a thought crossed her mind and she spun around. "Wait, how do you know everything is quiet?"

Clark was standing on the other side of the kitchen island, leaning slightly forward, but giving her the space that they both knew she needed. When she asked the question, she was surprised to find that he didn't look nervous or apprehensive. Instead, he replied simply.

"Super hearing."

Blinking several times as his words resonated with her, she cleared her throat in an effort to not seem as stunned as she felt. The sound of the coffee machine brewing broke the silence in the room and she was grateful for it. Knowing it would be at least several minutes until it was ready, she pulled out a stool and sat down across from him.

"Wow. Uh, what exactly can you hear?" she asked. Nodding as if he was finally agreeing with himself that this was the right thing to do, he sat down and stared directly at her.

"There was just a car crash on the corner of Main and Third. But it was just a fender bender," he said. He tilted his head ever so slightly and she wondered if he was really trying to get a better angle to hear or if it was just for show. Knowing Clark as she did, she knew he was being nothing but genuine.

"So I take it all of the not-too-nice things I've said about you under my breath over the years were not-so-secret?" she asked. His lips curved upward and something sparkled in his eyes that both enticed and embarrassed her.

"Well, they haven't all been bad from my recollection, but… yeah, pretty much," he said. Her face flushed again, but only briefly. Off the top of her head, she couldn't recall anything she'd said out loud that would warrant any embarrassment, but she knew for certain that if he was a mind-reader, she would be toast.

"Note to self: keep all secrets from Clark Kent non-verbal," she said. "Since we're on the subject… are there any other guns in your arsenal?"

"Well, the super speed you know about already, but everything else…" he said, trailing off as if he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her or not. He stared at her, silently asking if she was really ready for this conversation and she answered simply by raising her eyebrow, wordlessly asking if he was serious. His broad chest expanded as he took a deep breath and she found herself holding her own in anticipation.

"Okay, here goes: I can lift a tractor over my head. I can jump from the Daily Planet roof to LuthorCorp. I can shoot fire out of my eyes and put it out with my breath. And I can see Shelby asleep in the other room right now."

It had been one thing to discover that Clark was the Blur. It had been another to process his feelings for her. But this, the fact that the man she knew had once slept with an Elmer Fudd nightlight, had always tripped over his own feet when it came to interacting with the opposite sex, and who sang off-key shower renditions of "Amarillo by Morning," possessed not one, but several God-like powers was something that was completely beyond the realms of her comprehension. At least, it would have been two weeks ago.

"I know it's a lot to take in…" he said, but she held up a finger before he could start backtracking. She met his eyes briefly, eyes that still looked at her like she was going to bolt or scream at any moment, but she found she couldn't hold his gaze and instead stared at every part of him but those baby blues.

"Shush, I'm just… processing," she said. The bob of his throat made her mouth go dry, so she tried to focus on anything else that she could to distract her. Whether it was dumb luck or fate, the coffee machine chose that moment to alert them that the coffee was done brewing and she jumped up at the opportunity. Silently, she poured two cups of coffee as slowly as possible while her mind tried to formulate a response.

So he was fast and he was strong. He could certainly wipe the floor with Michael Jordan in a dunk contest. His eyes could shoot laser beams and x-rays. He could hear every word she had muttered under her breath over the past few years and he was a human fire extinguisher. Not only did he possess abilities that made him the most powerful man in the world, but he chose to use those gifts to help people rather than for his personal gain. It was a damn good thing she had taken two weeks to get ahold of her emotions because if she hadn't, she was sure she'd be ripping his clothes off by now.

But as she turned to look at him and saw the absolute and utter fear written all over his face, everything washed away except for him. The real him. The man that had been a constant in her life since the first moment she met him. The man who was a fiercely loyal friend to not only her, but to everyone he loved. The man that had held her as she cried about Oliver and been family to her when her own was nowhere to be found. The man that was not Clark Kent or the Blur, but Smallville.

She knew right then and there that she had a decision to make. She could either continue to allow her own thoughts and feelings on his revelation keep him on guard or she could suck it up and pretend that whatever else he had to tell her wasn't monumental. Their relationship had always thrived on her ability to be honest with him, but right now she knew that wasn't what he needed. What he needed was to feel like he wasn't a freak or an outsider. What he needed was to feel safe talking to her about this. What he needed was his friend.

"So super strength, speed, lungs, and eyes… don't tell me you've got a super sniffer too," she said as she passed him a cup of coffee. Immediately, his head perked up and the storm that had been brewing in his eyes lessened. His fingers grazed hers as he took the mug and it felt like a lightning strike at the contact, but against every fiber of her being, she refused to move until he did. When he simply stared at her, she dipped her head as if to say "well?" and finally broke him out of his reverie.

"Um, not yet, but who knows. My abilities have developed as I've gotten older, but besides the fact that I'm supposed to be able to fly, I'm not sure if I'll develop any more," he explained. He shifted in his seat, obviously waiting for another pensive reaction from her, but she simply trudged along.

"Supposed to?" she asked and he nodded before taking a sip of his coffee.

"I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet," he said. Noting his bitter tone, she chose to uncharacteristically comfort him instead of tease him like she normally would have. Reaching across the counter, she slid her fingers into his palm and gently squeezed, pouring every ounce of sincerity she could into her gaze.

"I'm sure you will," she said. This time, when he looked back at her, it seemed as though a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. The tension in his stiff posture had dissipated, his turbulent look had settled into the typical calm sea of blue, and a slight smile had returned to his lips. Feeling pressure against her hand, she allowed a silent sigh of relief to escape her.

"Thanks, Lois."

They sat that way for a moment, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes as if it was the most natural thing in the world, until a litany of salacious thoughts began to race through her head. Retracting her hand from his, she used it to pick up her coffee cup and take a sip, both as an excuse to stop touching him, but also so he didn't feel rejected. As she peered over the rim of the mug at his Adonis-like features, the theory she had about him but never truly allowed herself to believe finally came pouring out.

"So I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you aren't exactly a meteor freak?" she asked, careful not to put too much emphasis on the last word. She remembered how touchy Chloe had gotten about the term before she revealed that she had been affected by the meteors and though she didn't think Clark fit into the same category, she didn't want him to feel self-conscious either way. The way he shifted in his seat and his eyes suddenly found his coffee cup to be the center of attention only confirmed her suspicions.

"I didn't get my powers from the meteors, no," he said. She waited for him to expand on the subject, but when he didn't, she knew that he was going to need a little more coaxing. Against her better judgement, she reached her hand back across the table towards him and when their hands met, she locked eyes with him in an unwavering gaze.

"Look, Smallville, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but it's not going to change anything," she said firmly. He simply stared at her for a moment and she thought she'd gotten through to him, but then he slipped his hand from hers and stood up. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked towards the kitchen sink and stared out at the sky. He was frustrating to say the least, but she also knew that if she wanted him to tell her, she had to let him do it his way.

"That's what everyone always says. Everyone who knows the truth has told me that they still see me the same way, but then they treat me completely different," he said. He still wouldn't look at her and she tried not to take it personally, but a small part of her did. They were different. There had always been something special between them that everyone else had seen. Chloe, Oliver, Martha, Lana… hell, even Lex had commented on it. They just had something… more.

"Well, I'm not everyone," she said. When he still didn't look at her, she knew it was time to act. In a split second, she was standing in front of him and physically turning him towards her. "Clark, how long have you known me?"

"Far too long."

"And how well do you know me?"

"Far too well."

"Then tell me: do you really think anything you tell me is going to make me see you any differently than I do right now?"

For what seemed like the thousandth time that night, they stood in silence, simply staring at each other. They were standing close to each other, too close for comfort, if she was being honest, but she would be damned if she backed down now. He searched her eyes for what felt like years for any semblance of a lie and when he finally found none, all he could do was nod. Letting out an exasperated huff, she shook her head at him and snorted.

"Honestly, Smallville. You could tell me you're from Mars and it still wouldn't change a thing."

For such an innocent joke, she certainly didn't expect to get the reaction she did. The way his eyes bulged, his mouth tightened, and his body went rigid told her she had hit the nail on the head without evening meaning to: Clark Kent was not of this world.

As strange and outlandish and completely ridiculous as the idea was, Lois found herself in an oddly calm state of mind about it. It went against everything she thought she knew, but at the same time, it made all the sense in the world. She had always thought he was different than every other man she had ever met, but she never knew just how right she had been. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, and if she wasn't mistaken, she saw his eyes barely begin to glisten. Touching his cheek, she looked at him with all the love she could muster and said six simple words.

"It's okay, Smallville. Just tell me."

And so he did.

For the next few hours, Lois was quieter than she had ever been in her life during a conversation, if she could even call it that. More than anything, it was like a soliloquy on the origin and life of Clark Kent. Or rather, Kal-El. There were so many names and terms he threw around so casually that it was hard to keep up, but she didn't dare interrupt him unless she couldn't help it. Several times, she had asked him for clarification when he referenced his father, simply because she didn't know if he meant Jonathan Kent, his biological father, or the voice in his Arctic castle, but he had been patient and answered as simply as he could. When he found himself on a tangent, he quickly caught himself and backtracked with explanations and backstories before she had a chance to tell him she didn't understand. But mostly, she just listened and sat in awe of the man in front of her.

They moved from the kitchen to the living room as he spoke, then to the front porch when the air of the house became too thick. He even took her down to the storm cellar, though there was nothing to see anymore. When he led her up to the loft and showed her the spot in the sky where Krypton used to be, she stared through the telescope for a long time in wonder, but mostly to fight back the tears that threatened to make an appearance. When she had gathered herself enough to look at him without giving herself away, she plopped herself down on the couch and asked him to tell her more.

In all the years that she had known him, she couldn't remember a time where he had not only talked so much, but where he had spoken so openly and honestly. There had always been a wall up between the two of them, or rather two, if she was counting her own, but tonight, that wall has disappeared. He was still the same Clark that she knew, but in another way, he was a totally different person. And the funny thing was, it had nothing to do with who he was or where he was from or what he could do. No, it was because for the first time in all the years that she had known him, she finally knew the real Clark Kent. The real Kal-El. The real Smallville.

Their conversation covered everything from his origins to his teenage years to more recent events. She still had a million and one questions and she was sure that he had at least a million answers, but for the first time in her life, she found that the innate reporter that dwelled inside of her was not a priority tonight. They had all the time in the world for that side of her and all of her questions. Tonight was just about him.

By the time he finally finished speaking, sometime after he told her that he had recently began to accept the fact that his destiny wasn't something he could run from, Lois found herself sitting on the old worn sofa in the barn loft with a spinning head and an overflowing heart.

"So… now you know. I'm sure there's a lot I've forgotten and that you have a lot more questions, but I promise, I'm an open book from here on out. I don't want to keep anything from you anymore," he said. He was sitting directly in front of her on the trunk that doubled as a coffee table, staring intently at her with apprehensive eyes, but ones that weren't quite so afraid as they had been earlier in the night. Instead, he simply looked relieved, but ready to console or calm her if need be. It would have made her laugh if it hadn't been such a colossal moment.

"Thank you. That means… a lot. More than you know," she said. And she meant it. Though she hadn't meant to push him into divulging all of this information tonight, it meant the world to her that he did. There had been so many times where she had pushed him to tell her the truth and he had only given her excuses worthy of a first-grader. And she had let him because at the end of the day, if he didn't want to tell her, that was his right. But tonight was different. He not only trusted her, but he wanted her to know. And that made all the difference in the world.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to tell you all of this," he said, echoing her innermost thoughts. He hung his head between his shoulders with an exasperated sigh of relief and ran his hands through his hair, unintentionally sending a waft of what she could only describe as purely and unequivocally Clark Kent toward her. If she was lightheaded from all of the things he had just divulged to her, she was sure she might pass out if he didn't get away from her soon.

"Then why didn't you before?" she asked. Raising his head, he blinked up at her and frowned for a moment, contemplating her question. Before tonight, he would have had an answer ready for her, but now that he had finally told her the truth, he was living up to the promise he'd made not minutes before.

"Because I wanted to protect you. It's dangerous knowing who I really am," he said. As serious as he was being, she couldn't help but shake her head and laugh.

"I already get myself into enough trouble as it is. I don't think knowing about your alter ego is going do too much damage," she said with a wry grin, which he thankfully returned.

"I know. I think I've always known. More than anything, I think it's just been an excuse," he said. Frowning in confusion, she cocked her head to the side as she studied him.

"For?"

"Being afraid of what you'd think of me."

She tried not to let it hurt her feelings, she really did, but part of her couldn't help but feel disappointed that out of everyone he knew, he thought she would be one of the people in his life that would look at or treat him differently because of where he was born and what he could do. Did he really see her that way? Did he really think she was shallow enough to judge him based on anything other than who he was inside?

"Really? Did you think I'd be scared of you or something? Because alien or not, I could still kick your ass," she said, nudging his knee in an attempt to infuse some humor into the situation. She didn't want or need to deal with a guilty Clark Kent tonight, especially after everything they had been through in the past few hours, so she was happy when he didn't pick up on her wounded tone.

"Not scared, exactly. I just… I didn't want things to be any different between us," he admitted. Before she could tell him that was a ridiculous thought to even have cross his mind, he continued. "All of my relationships have changed with every single person who knows and the thought of losing what… we have… I didn't want to risk it."

It felt as though her heart had swelled to twice its normal size upon hearing his confession. He was totally misguided in his fears about her reaction, but the fact that he was scared anyways made her body thrum with electricity. When the moment presented itself, she'd give him hard time for his foolish worries, but now was not the time.

"You won't. I promise," she said. Her voice came out a lot breathier than she had intended, but if he noticed, he didn't let it show.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked. Normally, insecurities were a huge turn-off for her and she probably would have reached her limit on the amount of his brooding she could take in one night, but considering he had just told her a totally life-changing secret, she figured she could cut him a break.

"Because I'm me. And because you're you. Where you come from and what you can do are just… particulars," she said. He looked at her like she was speaking a different language.

"Particulars?" he asked, frowning at his lack of comprehension. Unable to help herself, she rolled her eyes and leaned forward to try and explain.

"Yeah, you know, like when you're writing a story and gathering all of your evidence, sources, and background knowledge?" she asked and he nodded, urging her to continue. "It helps to tell the story, but it isn't the story itself."

"You're losing me."

Frustrated with his lack of ability to decipher what many people dubbed as Lois-speak, she knew she had to take a more direct approach. Scooting to the edge of the sofa, she took hold of both of his hands and looked him directly in the eyes, which she knew was putting herself in dangerous territory, but it was worth the risk if she wanted him to understand. And as much as she wanted him to understand, moreover, she needed him to.

"Clark, you use your abilities to help strangers every day, without being asked, because that's who you are. Not because you were born in a galaxy far, far away," she said. Pursing his lips, his eyes skirted away from hers.

"It's not really that simple for me, though. I was sent here for a purpose. I have a destiny," he said. There was a bitter edge to his voice and though he had just admitted to her not too long ago that he had begun to accept that part of him, she knew that there was a part of him that was still struggling with it. Tugging on his hand, she ensured that his focus was solely on her again before she spoke.

"Which you fought against when you thought it meant you'd rule the world. That was your choice. You could have been a god if you wanted to, but you didn't because that's not who you are. That's not how you were raised and that's not what's in your heart."

Swallowing in attempt to keep her emotions from completely overwhelming her, she jumped straight into the sea of blue that stared back at her. He had captured her heart a long time ago and now that he had finally told her the truth, it was time she did the same. Her fingers touched his cheek, reveling in feeling of his perfect skin beneath her own. She had always been a firm believer that no one was perfect, but damn was he close to it. Taking a steady breath, she dropped all of her walls and looked at him with all of the love she possibly could produce in that moment.

"That's why all I see in front of me is you. The same guy I've always known and who has been there for me every day since we met. The same guy who is my best friend and one of the best parts of my life. That you can bench press a school bus doesn't hold a candle to any of that."

This time, she didn't have a chance to stop him, not that she would have tried. As soon as the last word left her lips, Clark's mouth descended on hers so swiftly that she didn't have time to take a breath. She thought that their kiss in the bullpen had been nothing short of extraordinary, but this… this was something more. When he had kissed her last, it had been to shut her up, but as soon as he achieved his task, his touch was soft and sweet. This was anything but that.

His lips were just as soft as she remembered, but they captured her own with purpose this time. Whether he had lunged at her or simply guided her backwards, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that her back was now against the sofa, his knee was between her thighs, and his mouth was doing insurmountable things to her. Her hands found his hair without a singular thought and when he moaned into her mouth, she swore a shiver went down her back. When the warm tip of his tongue flicked against her bottom lip, she was a goner.

Years of tension between the two of them seemed to explode then and there. One moment, he was hovering over her. The next, she found herself sitting on his lap, trying and failing to suppress the moans that she emitted as his hands trailed from her hips, to her back, until one buried itself in her hair. His tongue was mapping the inside of her mouth now and had her eyes been open, she was sure they would have rolled into the back of her head. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think she'd be straddling and making out with Clark Kent on his sofa, but hell if she was going to ruminate on it at the moment.

When she finally felt as though she might pass out from lack of oxygen, she ripped her mouth away from his with a gasp, but he took no prisoners as he shifted his attention to her neck. The feeling of his mouth moving against her skin sent ripples of pleasure down her body, but as soon as she felt she had caught her breath, she guided his face back to hers. They'd had five years of pent up sexual tension and frustration between the two of them and right now, all she wanted to do was kiss him senseless. So she did.

Time had no meaning in that loft and how long she spent wrapped up in his arms, she had no idea. Nor did she care. But when the fire between them finally started to dwindle and their passionate kisses turned gentle, Lois finally broke away from his merciless mouth, purely so she could stare at the man in front of her. Those blue eyes that she knew and loved were brighter than she could ever recall as they peered at her and he was smiling so big that she couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" she asked, as if she didn't already know the answer. All he could do was shake his head.

"You," he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes twinkled as he looked at her, taking in every inch of her face.

"Me, what?" she breathed. Even though she had just spent who knew how long kissing him, the way he was looking at her and holding her right now made her crave his kiss again.

"You… you're amazing, Lois," he said. The smile that had been etched on her face for the last few minutes only grew at his compliment. Unable to help herself, she cupped his face in her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the fact that she could do so now without fear of rejection.

"Tell me something I don't know, Smallville," she said. Her hands came to rest on his broad shoulders and she leaned back to put a little space between them. If she didn't, she knew she'd end up at the mercy of his mouth again and while that wasn't a bad thing, she needed a second to catch her breath and process what had just happened. But Clark apparently was not of the same opinion because as she leaned back, he leaned forward, sliding his palm against her cheek and taking her breath away for what was probably the hundredth time that night.

"Lois, no one has ever accepted me like you do. Even before you knew about my secret, you have never put me up on a pedestal. You've never expected me to be anything more than just… me."

She had meant it as a joke, but his sincere answer pulled so hard at her heartstrings that she had to look away from him for a moment in order to contain her emotions. When she was sure she could look at him without turning into an emotional mess, she found him staring at her mouth again and tilted his head so that he met her eyes.

"Your head's big enough as it is. Couldn't let it fall off your shoulders now, could I?" she said. He flashed his megawatt smile at her and shook his head at her attempt to steer their conversation to less emotional seas, which she soon learned was in vain.

"That's what I mean. Even though you know everything about me—who I am, where I come from, what I can do—you're still treating me exactly the same. You're the only one that makes me feel… normal."

And with that, his lips were back beneath hers simply for the sake of her emotional well-being. If she hadn't kissed him, she was sure she would have cried and that simply was not going to do this evening. Tonight was a happy night—the happiest of her life, if she had to guess—and she wasn't going to let his sweet words ruin that. Instead, she kissed him softly for a few moments until she was sure her unshed tears had retreated.

"Well, just so you know… normal means monster truck rallies. And baseball games. And karaoke and picnics in the park and dancing in the rain and any other corny thing that I might come up with, which you are not allowed to deny me," she said, tracing her thumb along his full bottom lip. "Or else I'll start calling you E.T."

"I wouldn't expect anything different," he said with a smile, which she returned. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as he gently dragged his hands against her arms and she was thankful when he spoke again. "I only have one request."

"What? And if the answer has anything to do with dressing me in flannel: it's a no," she said, to which he only raised an eyebrow and gestured to her shirt.

"You steal enough of mine as it is, so I don't think that's necessary," he said. She blushed, not because she was embarrassed, but because the thought of stealing his clothes held an entirely different meaning now. "I want to take you to see my father."

That was certainly enough to get her mind out of the gutter. Leaning back on her thighs, she frowned at him, confused as to who he was referring to.

"But your father…" she began, unsure of what to say. Is dead? Was that too harsh?

"My real father. Jor-El," he answered, before she had the chance to put her foot in her mouth. Still, it didn't answer her question. Though he hadn't had a chance to explain it, she knew from her conversation with his Blur persona earlier in the night that somehow he'd met his father and he had died, so she really had no idea what he was talking about.

"Wait, he's alive? I thought—" she began, but he shook his head before she could continue.

"No, he—sorry, there's still a lot more I need to explain. The one I just met and… lost was basically a clone of my real father. The one I want you to meet is the one that came from my spaceship. He's the piece of artificial intelligence that kind of lives in the Fortress."

Earlier, when he had explained how his birth father died sending him to Earth and how Jonathan Kent became his adopted father, she had understood perfectly. When he had told her how his spaceship had started speaking to him, she had just accepted it. But when he had tried to explain how that voice both was and wasn't his biological father and somehow jumped from his spaceship to an icy castle in the middle of the Arctic, she had given up trying to follow along and just pretended so that he'd keep talking. Suffice to say, she was completely lost now.

"Okay, we're gonna have to circle back to the clone thing, because what the hell, but your dad, this Joel guy, he's what now? A super computer or something?" she asked. Clark fought back a smile, for her benefit, she supposed, but she wasn't embarrassed. All she wanted was to understand.

" Jor-El," he corrected and she rolled her eyes. "And sort of. He has all of my birth father's intellect, but none of his emotions. Mostly, he's just an annoying voice that won't leave me alone."

"Sounds like the General," she said. Intelligent, unemotional, and controlling. The two of them would probably be best friends in a world where Clark's AI-dad wasn't an alien voice and her dad wasn't hellbent on destroying anything that threatened the country. The thought of what her father would do if he ever learned about Clark's true origins scared the hell out of her, but she let it roll off of her back. That was a problem for the future, not tonight.

"Similar, but a lot colder. Anyhow, I'd really like you to come with me some day. Whenever you're ready," he said. The way he said it, so timidly as if he thought she'd need time to think about it, made her want to roll her eyes, but she refrained. There'd be more than enough time to bust his chops in the future.

"I'm ready whenever you are," she said. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas. He looked almost surprised at her response and again she felt the need to chastise him for his lack of faith in her, but once again, she held back.

"Tomorrow?" he asked and she nodded.

"Tomorrow."

After a pregnant pause, he leaned in towards her, no doubt in search of her lips again, but before he could, his head shifted slightly and she turned to see what he was looking at. Over her shoulder, she noticed the digital clock on the desk behind them showed that it was going on one in the morning.

"I didn't realize how late it was. Do you want me to take you home?" he asked. He might have been an alien, but he was still a mild-mannered farm boy at heart. Biting her lip, she weighed her options. Part of her was exhausted and knew that a good night of rest in her own bed would probably be for the best, but on the other hand, she didn't want to leave. Not leaving came with a whole other set of complications though.

"You mean after you kidnapped me?" she asked, opting to infuse humor into the situation.

"Fair point," he said, not bothering to hide the obvious disappointment he felt. He made a move to shift her off of his lap, but before she could even think about it, she was pressing her hands against his chest. Suddenly uncomfortable with their position on the couch and the dilemma before them, she looked down at his broad chest and picked at a non-existent piece of lint as she answered.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I… don't want to leave," she said, silently ending her sentence with the word "you" as her eyes slowly made their way back to his face. The way he was looking at her now washed away all the worries she had. He was smiling at her, but not in a way that indicated he had been thinking about any of the salacious thoughts that had been bouncing around in her mind and it immediately put her at ease.

"Of course not. You can take my room," he said. This time when he made an attempt to shift beneath her, she allowed him. But instead of letting her slide off of him, he simply picked her up and set her on the ground as he stood up. Too shocked to think of anything to say, all she could do was stare at him as a strong sense of déjà vu kicked in at the way he had just manhandled her. It brought her immediately back to the night they first met and how he'd moved her from the doorway as if she weighed no more than a feather. Which, evidently, she did in his world.

"Lois? Are you coming?" he asked. He was already halfway down the stairs, looking back at her with a curious expression. Shaking her head to force herself from her stupor, she made her way towards him and was pleasantly surprised when he grabbed her hand. She shouldn't have been, considering they had just made out on his couch for a solid half hour, but his open affection was something that she wasn't used to. Neither was his show of strength.

They walked silently and slowly towards the farmhouse, hand-in-hand until they reached the front door. As he locked the door, she walked towards the stairs, but paused as soon as she stood on the first step. Their goodnights had never been anything more extravagant than the simple word or a rare a "see you tomorrow," so she wasn't exactly sure what the protocol was. More than that, she didn't want to say goodnight.

"Thank you for tonight. Not only for telling me, but for trusting me, too," she said. Shaking his head, he walked towards her until he was standing directly in front of her. One of his strong, warm hands found her own as she looked into his eyes and she noticed that they were finally standing at the same height.

"It was never about trust, Lois. I trust you more than anyone I know," he said, squeezing her fingertips. "Thank you for accepting me. It's all I've ever worried about."

Her free hand found its place against his cheek without even thinking about it and before she could attempt to stop herself, she was leaning towards him.

"You never have to worry about that again. At least, not with me."

The words barely made it past her lips before he was kissing her again. God, he was like a drug and she was already a full-blown addict. It had to be part of his Kryptonian DNA that made him such a damn good kisser because his lips were like silk against hers. And when his tongue touched her bottom lip—she was a goner. But she knew if she didn't stop herself, she'd be pulling him up the stairs with her and that was something that she didn't think either of them were ready for. Yet.

"Mmm… as much as I'd love to continue this conversation, I wasn't lying when I said I needed to get some sleep. As you can imagine, I haven't really been sleeping well these past few weeks," she said, sliding her hands from around his neck down to his broad shoulders.

"And I know all too well how you are in the morning even when you have had enough sleep," he countered, earning him a playful slap on the chest.

"Hey, I didn't grow up with a rooster cock-a-doodle-dooing outside my window every morning at five am. Sue me," she said. Laughing, he shook his head at her and smiled that smile that made her knees go weak. Thank God for the railing beside her.

"No, just the sound of the bugle call every day," he pointed out.

"Which I managed to ignore for years. Keep it up and you'll make the cut, too," she threatened, though both of them knew that was far from the case, especially now.

"I'm pretty sure I made it years ago."

"That you did. And with that being said: goodnight, Smallville," she said. If she let him, she was sure that he would have stood there bantering with her all night, not that she really would have minded. But she knew it was in both of their best interests to give each other some space after everything that had just happened.

"Goodnight, Lois," he said. Maybe it was one of his powers that he hadn't divulged, but the way his eyes sparkled as he stared at her was making it nearly impossible for her to force her legs to move. Intergalactic powers of seduction couldn't be that much of a stretch, could it? Thankfully, he took the lead and offered her a soft kiss on the cheek before throwing her a gentle smile and walking towards the living room. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she found the strength to finally make her legs carry her up the stairs and to his bedroom.

As soon as she entered the room, she knew immediately that she had made a mistake in asking to stay the night. Everything that surrounded her reminded her of him. Inwardly cursing, she thought briefly about going to sleep in the master bedroom, but that just seemed weird to her. Plus, if he asked, she didn't exactly feel like admitting to him why she couldn't sleep in his room. Instead, she pretended that it was like any other night she had spent at the Kent house in the past and that her lack of quality sleep over the past few weeks would knock her out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Boy, was she wrong.

As soon as she crawled beneath his sheets, his scent overwhelmed her. She had slept in this bed hundreds of times before, but she had never noticed just how intoxicating his smell was. Taking an shameless deep breath as she buried her face in his pillow, she allowed her senses to be filled with something that was purely Clark Kent. She couldn't put a finger on exactly what it was—perhaps some mixture of hay, freshly chopped wood, and some sort of musk that was all his own—but whatever it was, she wished she could bottle it up and store it for when he wasn't around.

God, she was such a sap. It hadn't even been a few hours since they had both given into their feelings for one another and here she was unable to fall asleep because she was too busy sniffing his sheets like some lovesick teenager. Or maybe a psychopath. Either way, she needed to find a way to go to sleep. Turning on her back so that her nose was pointed as far away from his bed as it could be, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come.

She waited. And waited. And waited. But it was no use. Her brain was running rampant with a million and one thoughts and questions. Clark was the Blur. Clark was from another planet. Clark could lift up an airplane. How much weight could he actually lift? And if he could jump from the Planet to LuthorCorp, how far could he actually go? Why wasn't he able to fly? When he figured it out, how high up could he go? Could he fly to outer space? Could he breathe there? Could he breathe underwater? Had he ever tried?

She laid there thinking about him for a good fifteen minutes before she realized that she was still wide awake. She had never been one to go to bed at a reasonable time, mostly due to her propensity for finishing her stories into the dead of night, but tonight was a different animal altogether. She should have just asked him to take her home. But even then, she probably would have been in the same predicament she was now. The only thought that crossed her mind was a dangerous one, but it was the only thing that would probably help her fall asleep. So before she could talk herself out of it, she acted.

"Clark?" she said. It was kind of weirdly embarrassing to talk to an empty room, but she shoved the feeling aside. "If you're awake, can you come up here please?"

The silence of the old farmhouse was deafening. As she lay there, she wondered if he was already asleep and couldn't help feeling disappointed. But then she heard the familiar creak of the stairs and footsteps headed towards her and the disappointment dissipated. The bedroom door creaked and though she could barely see in the darkness, she could tell that it was only open just a sliver.

"Lois? Is everything okay?" his voice called out into the quiet room. She couldn't see him, but she propped herself up on her elbows anyhow. She wasn't sure whether x-ray vision equated to night vision and she didn't want him to be looking at her as she stared at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just... I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about everything and I figured if you weren't asleep yet, well…" she trailed off, unwilling to ask him what she really wanted. But Clark, being the naïve farm boy that she knew him to be, didn't catch on.

"What is it?" he asked. The door creaked even more and she was able to make out his full silhouette in the doorway. Knowing him, he was probably worried that he had done something to frighten her off or something equally as foolish and she'd be damned if she let that happen.

"Do you think… you could lay here with me? Just for a little? At least until I fall asleep?" she asked. She hated how small and hesitant her voice sounded, but she couldn't help it. He scared her. Not in a physical way—she was still sure she could kick his ass if there was some Kryptonite around to even the playing field—but in an emotional way that she wasn't ready to admit to him. At least, not yet.

"Of course."

The breath she was holding in came rushing out, but she caught herself before it was too loud. At least, she hoped. She was really going to have to ask him how sensitive his hearing was one of these days. Though she could barely see, she managed to deduce that he was coming over to the left side of the bed, so she threw the covers back and made room for him. When she felt the bed dip beside her, her heart simultaneously jumped to her throat and calmed all at once.

"Thanks. I know I'm tired but my brain hasn't seemed to grasp that fact yet. The coffee probably didn't help," she said. She turned towards him, unaware of how close he might be to her and praying that she hadn't shoved her face directly in front of his.

"Neither did the atomic bomb I dropped on you tonight," he replied. He was close, but he wasn't too close from the sound of his voice and she said a silent prayer. With that obstacle out of the way, she focused on the conversation with the man beside her.

"Oh what, you mean that little old thing of you being an alien?" she teased. She didn't need to see him to know he was smiling.

"I prefer intergalactic traveler," he said. She scrunched her nose at his response.

"That's a mouthful."

"Kryptonian?"

"I still like E.T., but I guess we can stick to the dictionary definition."

She heard his soft laughter and it warmed her core. Their friendship had been built on bantering with each other and the fact that she could still tease him, even about something that was so personal and sensitive to him, meant everything in the world to her.

"You can call me whatever you want. The way that you reacted and how you've dealt with everything… it's more than I ever could have asked for," he said. Leave it to Clark to turn the conversation from comical to sentimental with just one sentence.

"So are you telling me I can call you Spock? He was a Vulcan and a human, so he's basically like you," she said. Taking a risk, she tentatively reached out a hand in search of his face, but was met with the hard wall of his chest. His bare chest. Her throat suddenly went dry and her pulse raced at the newly acquired information. Clark was in bed, shirtless, right next to her, and she couldn't see a damn thing.

"I guess it's a step up from E.T.," he said. Snapping back to the conversation, she let out an unintentional scoff. Maybe it was because she had always felt a little abandoned herself or maybe it was because the universe knew she'd eventually meet the man beside her, but she had always resonated with the film and it had been one of her favorites as a child.

"Hey, don't hate on E.T. He was cute," she said, producing a whole-hearted laugh from the man beside her and a gentle smack against some part of his body that she couldn't identify.

"Lois, was wrinkly and grey," he said, as if that was a sufficient explanation.

"With a pencil neck and a football head, but still cute," she argued. He laughed again, but softly this time and she could practically see him shaking his head through the darkness.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you."

"Good. Keeps things interesting."

To that, he didn't have anything to say. Instead, they shared an easy silence together. There were still a thousand thoughts racing through her brain and if she could guess, he wasn't exactly daydreaming beside her. But his presence had calmed her considerably and though she still wasn't anywhere close to sleep, she felt much more at peace than she had ten minutes ago.

"You don't know how much tonight meant to me," he said. His voice was low, not quite a whisper, but it was a much quieter tone than he had been previously using. Even though he was quieter, she noticed that his voice was much closer than it had been before and she had to wonder if night vision really did bleed into his x-ray vision.

"It meant a lot to me too," she replied. Feeling much more confident with where she thought he might be in proximity, she gently lifted her hand and ever so slightly lowered it across from her until it met hot skin and a soft tuft of hair. While she had been aiming for his cheek, she could work with his neck.

"You mean a lot to me. More than you know," he whispered. The sudden heat of his large palm against her waist startled her at first, but at this point, she was too far gone to really concentrate on anything except for the sudden sensation of breath against her lips.

"Trust me, I know."

Though she ached to kiss him again, she relented in fear that she would completely miss if she tried. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait very long because a second later, she felt his lips brush against her own in a tentative kiss. When he had kissed her in the bullpen and in the loft, it had been a release of years of pent up passion, but the way he kissed her now was something almost indescribable. He simply pressed his lips against her own, reveling in the touch and pressure before coaxing them slowly open. His hands moved likewise, gently and delicately moving against her hip and back. The passion was still there, but it wasn't wild and untamed like it had been before. This was something else entirely. And she craved more of it.

Shifting closer to him, she wound her arms blindly around the contours of his neck, moving her body so that she could press completely up against in. Earlier, in the loft, there had been a space between them for the most part, but now, there was nothing separating them except for the flannel shirt she wore. The heat that emanated from his chest was overpowering and her mind drifted quickly to how much better it'd feel for her press her naked body against his. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Clark pulled back.

"I don't, uh… I don't think this is going to help you fall asleep," he whispered. A gentle thrill shot through her as she noticed the hoarseness of his voice. It seemed as though she wasn't the only one who had been affected.

"You're probably right on that one," she breathed. God, she wished she could see him right now. She knew it would have gotten her in even more trouble and that she probably wouldn't have had to willpower to stop herself from taking things further, but she already missed looking at him. It was pathetic and she knew it, but she couldn't help it. She loved him.

"So… goodnight then?" he said. The thought of him leaving her like this instantly made her want to jump on top of him and anchor him to the bed, but she thought that might be a little dramatic, so she settled for running her fingernails across his shoulder, eliciting a shiver from the man beside her.

"Well… do you think you'd be able to keep your paws off me if you slept here tonight?" she asked. She was teasing him, both with her words and her physical ministrations, but she meant it. All she wanted was for him to stay right there next to her.

"Lois…" he began, undoubtedly ready to tell her that it'd be for the best if he went downstairs. But his chivalry was misplaced. At least, for tonight.

"Look, I'm not asking for anything… more, I just… I don't want to wake up in the morning and wonder if this was all a dream," she said. She hadn't meant to admit the last part out loud, but it was true. If she woke up tomorrow, alone in this bed, she wasn't sure she'd be able to face him in the morning without wondering if it was all some crazy dream or not. If he was here when she woke up, then she'd know for sure that this was for real. When he didn't answer, she grew anxious, but when she finally heard him sigh in defeat, she couldn't keep the grin off of her face.

"You do know you're going to have to stay on your side of the bed, right? I've seen the way you sleep," he said. Still smiling, she turned away from him and shimmied herself backwards until she was pressed up against him. His arm came immediately over her waist and she threaded her fingers through his without a second thought.

"I'll try, but don't be surprised if you wake up in the middle of the night with me on top of you," she said. The sleep must have finally been getting to her because it took her a solid two seconds to realize what she had just said. "Wow, I totally did not mean that."

"Are you sure?" he teased, his lips close to her ear. Two minutes ago, it would have riled her up, but as she laid there snuggled against his warm body, all she could do was think about sleep.

"We'll circle back to that question another time, but right now, this Earth girl's gotta grab some shuteye, so why don't you be the good old fashioned farm boy I know you to be and tell me goodnight," she said, her eyes already closed as he shifted against her, presumably trying to get comfortable.

"If I was that old fashioned, I'd be downstairs right now," he murmured against her hair. She swore she felt him sniff her hair, but the her drowsiness made it hard to tell. Even if he did, she couldn't really bring herself to care. Especially after she had treated his bed like a catalogue cologne sample earlier.

"Well, I've always liked a rebellious streak. It's about time you've gotten one," she said with a yawn. She knew she had mere minutes left before she passed out, but she wasn't about to fall asleep before she teased him back.

"It's always been there. Remind me and I'll tell you about it one day," he replied, his voice muffled by her hair.

"Can't wait," she said, too tired to try to decipher what he meant. Sleep was on the forefront of her mind, but she couldn't help but notice how warm her backside was. It was like sleeping with her back to a fireplace. "Mmm… you're like my own personal space heater. Emphasis on space."

"Ha ha, very funny," he said as he adjusted his arm over her. A sigh of pure bliss escaped her at the feeling of him holding her against him and she gently grazed her thumb back and forth over the top of his hand.

"Not even the tip of the iceberg, Clark."

"I can't wait."

"You can until morning. Until then, over and out."

"Okay, fair enough."

Between the hot body behind her, the smell that surrounded her, and the overwhelming happiness she felt after learning what she had tonight, it wasn't long before she finally started to drift off to sleep. But before she finally succumbed to unconsciousness, she heard his voice one last time.

"Lois?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really happy you know."

"Me too, Smallville. Me too."

With that, Lois Lane slept soundly for the first time in weeks. And when she woke up in the morning with a familiar set of blue eyes staring at her, she knew that it hadn't been a dream. But she was certainly starting to live in one.