Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters nor do I claim to do so.
Summary: Universe based on Smallville but AU. Lois and Clark develop a friends-with-benefits relationship that goes south. After realizing the feeling she has for him, Lois pushes him away. This piece takes place about a month after Clark finally agreed that he would date other people to "detox from her".
The Daily Planet's ballroom glittered with champagne flutes and evening wear, strings of lights casting golden shadows across familiar faces made elegant by the occasion. Clark adjusted his bow tie for the tenth time, trying not to check his watch again as Rebecca chatted with some feature writers.
She looked beautiful, he had to admit - her red dress perfectly tailored, her smile bright as she laughed at something. He should be focused on her. This was their third date, and her hints about "after the ball" had been increasingly obvious.
Instead, his mind kept drifting to another Planet formal event, months ago, when Lois had worn that deep purple dress that made his mouth go dry...
"Clark?" Rebecca's hand on his arm jolted him back. "You okay? You seem distracted."
"Fine." He managed a smile. "Just..."
His words died as the ballroom doors opened. Because there was Lois, in a midnight blue gown that made his heart stop, her hair swept up to expose the curve of her neck he used to kiss.
But it was the man beside her that made his fingers tighten dangerously on his champagne flute. Richard White - Perry's nephew, recently transferred from the London office. His hand rested possessively on Lois's lower back as he guided her into the room.
"Oh!" Rebecca perked up. "I didn't know Lois was back from Washington already. And with Richard!" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I heard they've been seeing each other since he got here. Something about them meeting years ago in London..."
The champagne flute cracked.
Lois felt Clark's eyes on her the moment she entered. She'd known he would be here - had prepared herself for seeing him with Rebecca. The gossip had reached her even in Washington: three dates, lots of in office PDAs and Rebecca practically glowing every time she mentioned him.
What she hadn't prepared for was how devastating he'd look in a tuxedo, or how her body would still hum with awareness even after a month apart.
"Stop looking like you're heading to an execution," Richard whispered, squeezing her arm.
Richard was her saving grace these past weeks. Perry's nephew, yes, but more importantly, the only person who'd seen through her act immediately. Who'd offered friendship and a convenient plus-one. Who also happened to be deeply closeted and grateful for someone he could take to company functions.
Across the room, Rebecca's hand slid up Clark's arm as she laughed at something he'd said. The champagne in Lois's stomach turned acidic.
"Lo, why don't we try to have some fun?" Richard said kindly noticing the way she was looking at Clark. "Come on. How long has it been since I took you for a spin?." she immediately had a genuine smile that mirrored his own.
Meanwhile, Clark was doing his best not to crush another glass as he watched Richard lead Lois to the dance floor. The easy intimacy between them, the way she smiled up at him...
"Clark?" Rebecca's voice seemed to come from far away. "Do you want to dance too?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but then Richard whispered something that made Lois throw her head back laughing - that real laugh he hadn't heard in weeks - and something in his chest twisted painfully.
"You're thinking too loud," Richard said quietly as they moved across the dance floor. His touch was steady, brotherly - exactly what she needed right now.
"I'm fine."
"Lois." His voice was gentle. "You haven't been fine since you saw them together. It's okay to admit it hurts."
She was grateful for Richard's quiet understanding. In the weeks since they'd bonded over late-night stakeouts and shared secrets, he'd become the friend she didn't know she needed. No dramatic declarations or sassy commentary - just someone who understood complicated hearts.
Across the floor, Clark's hands had curled into fists as he watched them dance. The muscle in his jaw ticked - she knew he was fighting for control.
"He hasn't taken his eyes off you all night," Richard observed softly.
Lois tried not to watch Rebecca's hand sliding up Clark's arm, the intimate way she leaned into him. "They look good together."
"Do they?" Richard's tone was neutral, thoughtful. "Because from where I'm standing, he looks about as comfortable as I did at my family's Christmas dinner after Uncle Perry caught me with the pool boy."
That startled a genuine laugh from her - the first real one in weeks. When she glanced back, Clark was staring at them with an intensity that made her breath catch.
He looked away first this time, but not before she saw the raw hurt in his eyes.
"Lane!" Perry's voice boomed across the dance floor. "Come introduce my nephew to Kent. Can't have my best reporters not knowing each other."
Lois's steps faltered. Richard's hand squeezed her arm gently - support disguised as escort as they made their way over.
Clark and Rebecca were already with Perry, champagne glasses in hand. Clark's shoulders tensed with each click of Lois's heels on the marble floor.
"Kent," Perry clapped him on the back. "Meet Richard White, our new foreign correspondent. I hear you two haven't had the chance to meet, what with Lane whisking him off to Washington."
"Clark Kent." Clark's voice was carefully neutral as he extended his hand to Richard. His grip perhaps a touch firmer than necessary.
"Richard White." Richard's smile was diplomatic - years of navigating social circles evident in his ease. "I've heard great things about your work."
Rebecca stepped closer to Clark, one arm sliding through his the other with her hadn extended to Richard. "Rebecca. Clark's been showing me all the ins and outs of the Planet. I'm still learning my way around as junior editor."
The casual intimacy of her gesture made Lois take a longer sip of champagne, using the glass to hide whatever her face might be revealing.
"How was Washington?" Clark's question was directed at Lois, the first words he'd spoken to her all night.
"Productive." She met his eyes steadily. "Though I hear I missed some excitement here."
"Oh, you must mean the Robinson scandal," Rebecca jumped in, either missing or ignoring the tension crackling between Clark and Lois. "Clark's coverage was brilliant. Though I might be biased." She smiled up at him with clear adoration.
"Actually," Richard cut in smoothly, "I think Lois means the Anderson corruption piece. We were following some leads in Washington that tied back here."
"You worked together in Washington?" Clark's question held an edge that made Rebecca glance up at him curiously.
"Extensively," Richard replied, not quite catching the landmine he'd stepped on. "Late nights, shared takeout. Lois is quite... dedicated when she's onto something." finishing with a soft administration chuckle.
Clark's voice was dangerously controlled as he made eye contact with her for the first time in the conversation, "I still have my notes from the Anderson investigation. Was saving them, thought we might work on it together when you got back. But clearly..." His eyes flickered between Lois and Richard. "You don't need my input anymore."
The double meaning hit Lois like a physical blow. Because they both knew he wasn't just talking about work.
The champagne in Clark's glass trembled dangerously.
"The hotel's coffee was terrible though," Richard continued, oblivious to the growing tension. "Lois practically lived in my room, stealing my good beans. She's very particular about her morning coffee."
Clark's jaw clenched so hard they could practically hear teeth grinding. Because he knew exactly how Lois took her coffee - knew the exact ratio of sugar to cream, knew how she'd pad around his kitchen in the early hours wearing his shirts, knew—
Feeling the need to fill the silence, Rebecca started "Well, Clark's been helping me adapt to Metropolis. It's so different from Coast City, but he knows all the best spots. That Italian place last week was divine."
Lois's heart stuttered. Their Italian place. Where he'd first tried tiramisu, where she'd kissed coffee from his lips,
"Excuse me. I need some air." she says as she pushes her way through the dancing people and out into the balcony. Clark sets his glass on a nearby table and goes after her. Before Rebecca can react, Richard asks her excitedly "Rebecca, I've been dying to hear about the Coast City Tribune. Perry mentioned you did some groundbreaking work there..."
The cool night air hit Lois's bare shoulders as she stepped onto the balcony. Clark stood at the railing, his back rigid with tension. The city lights spread out below them, a constellation of urban stars.
"You don't get to be jealous." Her voice was quiet but carried in the night air. "You're the one on a date."
"Am I?" He didn't turn around. "Because it looks like you and Richard got pretty close in Washington."
"Richard is a friend." The words came out sharper than intended. "A real friend who actually saw through my bullshit when I was trying to pretend I wasn't..." She caught herself.
"Wasn't what?" Now he turned, and the raw hurt in his eyes made her chest ache. "Missing me? Because you seemed fine. Sharing hotel rooms, stealing his coffee, building a whole new partnership while I—"
"While you what? Took the junior editor to our restaurant?" The bitterness in her voice surprised them both. "Besides, you've got it wrong. Richard and I weren't..."
"Weren't what, Lois?" He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne - the same one that still clung to that shirt she couldn't bring herself to wash. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you replaced me pretty quickly. Professionally and—"
"He's gay, Clark."
The words hung in the night air between them. Clark blinked, his angry momentum faltering.
"What?"
"Richard. Is. Gay." She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool air. "And deeply closeted because of his family. I was his cover at events, he was my..." She swallowed hard. "My friend when I needed one."
Clark ran a hand over his face, anger deflating into something more complicated. "So all those late nights, the shared coffee..."
"Were exactly what they sounded like. Work. Nothing more." She gripped the balcony railing, needing the support. "Though I notice you're not extending me the same courtesy of explanation about Rebecca."
"There's nothing to explain."
"Really?" Her knuckles went white on the railing. "Because what I've been hearing paints quite a picture. Late nights at her place, intimate dinners, the way she leaves her hand on your thigh during meetings." Each detail felt like glass in her throat.
"Wow, your source of information is Cat Grant now?" His laugh was bitter. "You used to be better at vetting your sources, Lane."
The use of her last name stung. "Cat's not my only source. The entire newsroom has been watching your little romance unfold. The overnight stay at the farm was particularly noteworthy."
"You're right." His tone made her turn to face him. "She did come over. She did spend the night." Each word seemed carefully chosen to hurt. "Isn't that what you wanted? For me to date other people? To move on?"
The confirmation hit her like a physical blow. Because knowing it happened and hearing him say it were two very different kinds of pain. She thought of Rebecca in his kitchen, drinking morning coffee from mugs she used to use, sleeping in a bed where she and Clark had...
"Clark—"
"No." He stepped closer, anger and hurt radiating off him in waves. "You don't get to be jealous of a situation you created. You're the one who said we needed to see other people. You're the one who walked away. So I did exactly what you asked - I started dating someone. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
The city lights blurred as she blinked back tears. "I wanted you to be happy."
"Happy?" His laugh was harsh. "You think I'm happy? You think I enjoy having Rebecca touch me, knowing it's not your hands? Having her in my space, in my home, while all I can think about is how wrong it feels?"
"Doesn't seem to be stopping you." The words came out sharper than intended, masking the hurt. "Intimate dinners, overnight stays... seems like you're managing just fine."
"Because you told me to!" His control finally snapped. "You told me to date other people. So yes, I took her to dinner. Yes, she spent the night. I'm doing exactly what you wanted, Lois. How's it feel?"
"Like hell." The admission escaped before she could stop it. "Is that what you want to hear? That I can barely stand seeing her touch you? That every time I hear about another date, another intimate moment, I feel physically sick?"
"Then why—"
The balcony door opened, spilling light and music into their charged moment.
"There you are!" Rebecca's voice was bright with champagne and expectation. "I've been looking everywhere. They're playing our song."
"Your song? You have song?," Lois repeated quietly, the words tasting like ash. Something in her expression must have cracked because Richard appeared suddenly behind Rebecca, as if he'd been monitoring the situation.
"Lo?" Richard's voice was gentle as he took in her face. "I think it's time we headed out."
"Yes." She straightened, gathering whatever dignity she had left. "Early deadline tomorrow."
"Lois—" Clark started forward, but Richard stepped smoothly between them.
"Good night, Kent." Richard's tone was polite but cold as he wrapped a protective arm around Lois's shoulders. The look he gave Clark could have frozen hell.
Rebecca watched them go, confusion evident on her face. "Clark? What's going on? Why does Richard White look like he wants to murder you?"
But Clark barely heard her, too focused on watching Lois's blue dress disappear into the crowd. On how her shoulders had trembled slightly as she turned away. On the devastating realization that he'd just hurt her exactly the way he'd sworn he never would.
"Clark?" Rebecca's voice sharpened. "I think you owe me an explanation."
Clark's hands gripped the balcony railing, the metal creaking slightly under his fingers. Every step Lois took toward the exit felt like physical pain. His body literally ached with the need to go after her, to explain about the guest room, about how he couldn't...
"Clark?" Rebecca's voice seemed to come from far away. "What just happened? Why did Lois look like..." She paused, pieces starting to fall into place. "Oh my god. Is there something between you two?"
"I can't..." He forced his grip to loosen before he damaged the railing. "Rebecca, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what?" Her confusion turned to hurt. "We've been dating for weeks. I've been in your home, met your mother, and not once did you mention..." She stopped, watching his face. "You can't even say it, can you?"
"I can't... it's not my place to..." He ran a hand through his hair, looking so torn that Rebecca's anger faltered slightly.
"All this time," she said softly, "when you'd get that distant look, when you'd pull away from my touch... it was her?"
He couldn't answer. Couldn't betray Lois's privacy. Couldn't explain that every moment with Rebecca had been an attempt to forget someone unforgettable.
Outside, Richard helped Lois into his car, her hands shaking too much to manage her own keys.
"I can't believe I thought I could handle this," she whispered, staring straight ahead. "Seeing them together. Hearing about their dates was bad enough, but watching her touch him, hearing about her spending the night..."
"Lo..." Richard started the car. "Maybe if you just talked to him—"
"He slept with her." Her voice cracked. "In his bed. Where we used to..." She pressed her hands to her eyes. "God, I'm such an idiot. I told him to date other people. I pushed him right into her arms. What did I expect?"
"You expected it to hurt less than losing him later." Richard's voice was gentle. "But honey, from what I just saw? That man is not over you. Not even close."
"Take me home?" She couldn't deal with this analysis right now. Couldn't think about the raw pain in Clark's eyes, or how even angry, he still looked at her like...
"Of course." Richard squeezed her hand. "Ice cream and bad movies?"
She managed a weak smile. "You're too good to me."
"That's what friends are for." He pulled into traffic, deliberately not mentioning the tears she was trying to hide. "Though I have to say, Kent looked about ready to jump off that balcony to follow you."
"Richard..."
"Right. No more Clark talk. But Lo? This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
Clark stood in the emptying ballroom, watching Rebecca gather her things. She'd stopped asking questions, his inability to explain apparently answer enough.
"You know what hurts most?" she said finally, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. "I really thought we had something. All those times you seemed distant or pulled away... I told myself you were just shy, just needed time."
"Rebecca, I—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Just... tell me one thing. When I spent the night at the farm, when you put me in the guest room and said you weren't ready... was it because of her?"
He couldn't meet her eyes. The silence was answer enough.
"Right." She squared her shoulders.
Across town, Lois sat curled on her couch, still in her evening dress. Richard moved around her kitchen with familiar ease, making hot chocolate because "ice cream alone won't cut it tonight."
"You know," he said carefully, adding marshmallows to their mugs, "there might be more to the story."
"What's there to know? He slept with her. Moved on. Like I told him to."
"Did he though?" Richard settled beside her. "Because the Clark Kent I saw tonight? That man looked about as 'moved on' as you are."
"You didn't hear him, Richard. The way he talked about her staying over..."
"Maybe. But I saw his face when you walked in tonight. Saw how he couldn't take his eyes off you. That's not the look of a man who's happy with someone else."
Lois took a shaky breath. "It doesn't matter. I pushed him away. Told him to date other people. I don't get to be hurt when he actually does it."
"Lo..."
"Can we just... not? Please?" She pulled the throw blanket tighter around herself. "I can't think about him with her in his bed, in his kitchen, in all the places where we..."
Richard set down his mug and pulled her into a hug. "Okay. No more Clark talk tonight. But sometime? We're having a real conversation about why you're punishing yourself by pushing away the one person who clearly makes you happy."
Clark stood in his darkened farmhouse kitchen, still in his tux minus the bow tie, staring at the coffee maker. The same one Lois used to monopolize every morning, demanding her "proper caffeine intake" before any real conversation.
Rebecca's last words from their confrontation stung: "You put me in the guest room that night, said you weren't ready. But it was never about being ready, was it?"
She was right. Just like he hadn't been ready when she'd shown up unexpectedly that Saturday morning, hoping to surprise him with breakfast, only to run into his mom instead. His mom, who had no idea about him and Lois, had just been politely confused by this woman making coffee in her kitchen at 8 AM.
But he'd let Lois believe otherwise. Had practically confirmed her worst fears about him and Rebecca. He'd seen the devastation in her eyes and, if pressed harder, he did want her to hurt like he'd been hurting these past weeks. And for what? Now he wasn't sure if she'd ever forgive him.
Instead of foolishly trying to fall asleep he dedicated the night to saving anyone who needed saving. Much better than think of the mess he created. He would deal with that tomorrow.
The elevator dinged, and Lois stepped out just as Clark emerged from the stairwell. Their eyes met across the bullpen in that horrible moment of perfect timing that seemed to define their relationship lately.
She looked as exhausted as he felt, dark circles barely concealed under makeup. Her usual confident stride faltered slightly when she saw him, and the knowledge that he'd put that uncertainty there made his chest ache.
The newsroom seemed to hold its breath as they navigated the space between them. Everyone had seen Rebecca leave the ball alone last night, had watched the drama unfold even if they didn't understand its full scope.
"Lane! Kent!" Perry's voice boomed across the bullpen before either could decide how to handle this moment. "My office, now!"
Lois's shoulders tensed as Clark fell into step behind her - muscle memory from years of partnership they were supposedly moving past. The familiar scent of her perfume hit him, mixed with coffee and something that smelled suspiciously like Richard's cologne from last night.
His jaw clenched. He had no right to be jealous, not after what he'd done. Not after deliberately letting her believe...
"Shut the door," Perry ordered as they entered. "We need to talk about the Anderson story."
"The corruption goes deeper than we thought," Perry started, oblivious to the crackling tension between his reporters. "White's sources in London confirmed the international angle."
Lois felt Clark stiffen at Richard's name. She kept her eyes fixed on Perry's desk, studying the scattered files like they held the secrets of the universe.
"Kent, those notes you were holding onto might be relevant now."
The same notes he'd mentioned at the ball. The ones he'd been saving for her. Lois's hands clenched in her lap.
"I'll have them on your desk within the hour," Clark's voice was carefully professional. Too professional.
"Good." Perry looked between them. "Because you two are back on this together. Lane's Washington contacts and Kent's local sources - this could be Pulitzer material."
"Chief—" they both started simultaneously, then stopped.
"Problem?" Perry's eyebrows rose.
Yes, Lois wanted to scream. Because being trapped in close quarters with Clark while he was dating Rebecca was bad enough. But after last night?
"No problem," Clark answered for them both, his voice tight. "We'll make it work."
"Good." Perry shuffled some papers. "Because your first interview is in an hour. Anderson's former CFO finally agreed to talk."
Lois's head snapped up. "Turner agreed to meet?"
"Only if it's both of you." Perry's eyes narrowed slightly at their obvious tension. "He specifically requested the Planet's 'star investigating team.' So whatever's going on with you two? Table it."
"Yes, Chief" they say in union.
The ride down to the lobby felt endless. They stood at opposite corners of the elevator, the small space thick with unspoken words. Clark's reflection in the metal doors showed his jaw clenched tight enough to bend steel.
"Do you want to drive?" he asked quietly, all the fire from last night replaced with something more subdued. Like he knew he'd lost the right to any demands after what he'd done.
She shook her head as she said "Richard drove me home last night." Her tone was flat, professional. The kind she used with sources she didn't trust.
He pulled out his keys, that muscle in his jaw jumping again. "Radio's yours if you want it."
The silence in his truck felt suffocating. Lois stared straight ahead, deliberately not noticing how his hands gripped the steering wheel too tight, or how familiar his cologne still was in this enclosed space.
"Turner's office is downtown," she said finally, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "We should establish what angle we're taking. You mentioned notes?"
"Yeah." He gestured to his briefcase on the backseat. "They are in the main pocket."
"I'll take a look." Professional Lois Lane took over as she reached back, because this was work, and she'd be damned if personal drama affected her journalism. "We need to be prepared if he's going to confirm the offshore accounts."
She flipped through his meticulous notes, ignoring how his handwriting still made something twist in her chest. How post-its marked "Show Lo" were stuck to certain pages, clearly saved for her return.
A traffic light caught them, and he drummed his fingers on the wheel - a nervous habit she used to find endearing. Now it just made her think of those same fingers probably drumming on his kitchen counter while Rebecca made coffee.
"About last night—" he started.
"Page three mentions a connection to the Singapore branch," she cut him off, all business. "We should lead with that."