Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prompt:

“Why him?”

Because even after countless mood swings, my crazy demands, and my stupid arguments, he never gives up on me.

Apparently, marrying Clark Kent made Lois Lane a thousand times easier to be around. Clark seemed to have this effect on Lois. His constant presence seemed to help her focus her intensity, in a good way, of course. Lois became much less abrasive and much more empathetic. She was still herself, of course, but she seemed to grow into someone so much more.

This was why the office ladies finally decided to invite Lois to Girl’s Night.

Nobody regretted the decision. They were previously all terrified of Lois Lane. She was known as Mad Dog Lane for a reason. But Lois Kent, she was still terrifying, but only in the work environment; outside of work, she was actually really, really cool.

The ladies had to know, though. “Why him?”

And why indeed. Lois Lane was the best reporter around. She was a strong, independent, firecracker of a woman. Clark Kent seemed like the complete opposite. So why did Lois Lane decide to marry him?

Lois adopted a look of deep reflection as she leaned further onto the arm of the couch. She crossed a leg over top of the other one and swirled her wine in the glass. After a moment of introspection, she replied, “Because even after countless mood swings, my crazy demands, and my stupid arguments, he never gives up on me.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Because Mad Dog Lane had been trained, it seemed. She was still intense, but that intensity now could be laser-focused, not aimed at everything. Her work had improved also, probably because one Clark Kent had encouraged healthier hours, which, surprise surprise, brought about better results. Not to mention how Clark Kent’s seemingly endless patience and well-thought-out arguments nipped a wild, reckless, and hair-brained Lois Lane’s plans in the bud. Which helped keep her alive and out of lawsuits.

It was a very good thing that Clark Kent never once gave up on Lois Lane, despite everything he went through because of and for her.

And Lois Lane’s response caused the other ladies to fall a little bit in love with Clark Kent, too. He really was a super man.  

Chapter Text

Prompt: be with someone that loves you loudly, publicly, privately, and behind your back.

Clark Kent was difficult to describe, Perry White thought. He was an excellent reporter; he had excellent prose and grammar, an inspiring drive to do what was right, and a truly astounding ability to find answers. He seemed pathetically meek but could, and would, prove he had quite the backbone, if necessary.

So maybe that was why, on the rare occasion Perry treated his bullpen to drinks, the old newspaperman shamelessly recorded one of his finest reporters clumsily accept the microphone handed to him, courtesy of a tipsy Jimmy Olsen, and gleefully proclaim, while pointing directly at one flushed Lois Lane, his undying love and adoration for his wife. The whole situation was entirely too wholesome to conceivably be used as blackmail for Clark, but Perry knew he could hold it over Lois’ head… probably.

It had been a very rough day. Clark had been running around—well, flying around would be more accurate—Metropolis for the past sixteen hours, performing damage control. Metropolis hadn’t been directly hit by the hurricane, but the virtual monsoon that had been a byproduct of the hurricane was still doing numbers on the city. This wasn’t Gotham; the people of Metropolis didn’t know what to do with all this rain. Basements were being flooded, car accidents were happening left and right, and there were way too many cats to rescue from trees. Like, so many cats, and they were all loudly protesting the rain. Clark’s poor ears couldn’t take much more of this.

Things only got worse for him when the Daily Planet had to be entirely evacuated after flooding in the basement caused enough structural damage for the building to become temporarily unstable. There was a partial collapse that damaged one of the presses, but thankfully he got there fast enough to prevent any injuries.

After that situation was resolved and the entire building was empty, he quickly vanished so that he could reappear as himself. And the first thing he did was march up to his wife, hold her face in his hands, and smash his lips against hers. He didn’t care that the entire office was watching, he was far too grateful she was alright.

When he pulled away, he immediately asked, “You’re alright?” just to be sure.

Lois nodded, the movement stunted because of his hands still holding her face. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He dropped his hands, realizing the prolonged contact was becoming awkward. “I’m fine if you’re fine,” he responded, truly meaning that.

Lois placed a hand on his arm and squeezed reassuringly. “I really am fine, and you know that. I love you.”

Clark sighed deeply, finally relaxing. “I love you, too.”

Nobody needs to know the details of what Clark and Lois do behind closed doors. Just know that they prove to each other over and over again how much they love each other. Its private love for a reason, and Clark in particular prefers it that way (Lois might spill some tea, though).

It was a rare occasion for Clark to get tipsy. It required him to be depowered somehow—which usually meant he shouldn’t consume alcohol—or for the drinks to be magic. So, to celebrate Clark receiving the key to Metropolis, Bruce had procured some liquor, enhanced by Zatanna for maximum enjoyment.

Because it was rare for Clark to feel the effects, he was fun to watch. Diana and Bruce, going slow on their own glasses, shared knowing smiles as Clark started giggling.

“What is so funny, Kal?” Diana bit, impatient to know what had him so giddy.

He clumsily shook his head, curls bouncing. “Not funny; I just really love my wife,” Clark answered, words slurring slightly.

Bruce snorted, hiding his widening smile as he took a long sip.

“I really, really love her,” Clark continued. “She’s so awesome and amazing and beautiful.” He hiccupped and copied Bruce’s long sip. “And she’s so smart and brilliant and hardworking and amazing and good and pretty and… and she’s a terrible cook but she tries, which isn’t really a good thing but she’s really sexy when she does… but it’s a good thing I can blow out a fire. But that’s not important. Other than the cooking, she’s basically good at everything because she’s so smart and beautiful and I love her so much and I want her to have my babies.”

He continued on this train for five more minutes, with Diana and Bruce adding their own synonymous adjectives on occasion, thoroughly enjoying the way Clark’s eyes would light up as he enthusiastically declared, “That was a good one! Yes, she’s that, too!”

If Bruce and Diana weren’t already sure that Clark Kent loved Lois Lane, they certainly were aware of this fact when they dropped Clark off with the love of his life. And they waited until after the door was shut and they were walking away before they both broke into laughter at the way Clark had adoringly greeted his wife.

Lois had answered the door, and before she could greet them, Clark gasped and excitedly slurred, “Lois, my love! I was just telling B and Di how awesome you are. I love you.”

Lois looked him dead in the eyes and replied, “I love you, too, sweetheart,” before looking at Bruce and Diana with a glare and jokingly asked, “What did you do to him?”

Clark, being the touch-starved creature he was, declared it snuggle time and started tugging Lois away from the door, thus ending any opportunity for more joking. Bruce and Diana quickly waved goodbye and shut the door for Lois as Clark tugged her deeper into the apartment. Diana started to hold back laughter as Bruce bent down to find the key under the mat so he could lock the door from the outside. Diana quickly sent a text to let Lois know that.

They were both sure Clark would enjoy his snuggles for exactly five seconds before falling asleep. Poor Lois would be trapped in Clark’s arms until he woke up.

Chapter Text

Prompt: I hope that every “I can do it myself” type of girl meets their “I know, but I want to do it for you” guy.

Lois was, somehow, responsible for loading twenty boxes of copy paper into the back of her Jeep. How was she responsible, you might ask? Well, she may have been indirectly-directly responsible for the sprinklers going off in the copy room—which ruined all of the copy paper that was currently stored there. So, as punishment—the consequence of her actions—Perry sent her to the closest paper store—the closest one that sold in bulk was an hour and a half away—to replace what she had destroyed. But, of course, they weren’t the normal sized paper boxes one might think of when they think of paper boxes… they were three times as big and probably five million times heavier. And Lois had no idea how she was going to fit even half of the boxes in her Jeep. To top it all off, the pallet-driver-guy seemed entirely disinterested in helping Lois with her chore, seeing as though he dropped the packages off and promptly vacated the premises.

That’s fine. She could do it herself.

And she would, in probably four trips to and from the Planet.

That would be… her entire rest of the day. Not including the time it would take for her to load and unload the Jeep. Great, just great.

And that’s when she saw a delivery van pull up next to her Jeep. And one Clark Kent hopped out of it. He walked up to her, hands tucked into his pockets, cheeky smile on his face. He nodded toward the van. “Figured this might help.”

“What are you doing here?” Lois asked, ignoring his gesture entirely. She was already having to miss so much work; he should at least be at the Planet attempting to pick up her slack. Unbelievable.

“Helping,” came his simple response.

Lois scoffed. “I don’t need your help. I was the one who set off the sprinklers. I was the one tasked with this chore. Go back to work.”

“Ah, you see. I can’t go back to work without the van. I signed off on it…” Clark mentioned, not looking the least bit apologetic. “So, since I’ll be here,” he bent over and picked up a box, not seeming to struggle at all with the weight, “I might as well help. Since I doubt you’d appreciate me standing still looking pretty.”

“You’d have to be pretty to do that, dumbass,” Lois retorted.

Clark adopted a look of hurt as he walked over to the back of the van. He balanced the box on a knee to free up a hand so he could open the doors. He replaced his grip and suddenly brightened. He half disappeared into the van, shoving the box into the back of the hauling area. When he straightened back out from behind the doors, he quipped, “Right. Not pretty. That’s for girls.”

Lois rolled her eyes. “Okay. Stand there and look dorky, since that suits you. Don’t touch anything. I need to go make sure this is all of it.” Clark blinked at her but didn’t say anything. Lois took that to mean he was going to listen, like he usually did… maybe. She quickly turned on her heel and went to find the person in charge.

It took ten minutes for her to find someone, and when she finally did, it took another twenty for them to determine that she was missing five boxes. Great. Good thing she came to check. The manager told her he’d have a second pallet delivered to her Jeep in a couple of minutes.

When she finally, after thirty-two minutes, made it back to her Jeep, the van, and Clark, all the boxes were gone. Not where she left them. But Clark was standing exactly where she’d left him. And upon seeing her, he leaned against the van, crossed his arms, and smirked at her. Honest to God smirked. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Where are all the boxes?” she asked, gesturing to the empty ground where there were supposed to be nineteen boxes.

Clark shrugged and used his head to gesture to the van. “In there.”

“And how did they get there?”

Clark shrugged again, smirk growing. “I dunno, they must’ve all grown legs and climbed aboard themselves.” There was a brief moment of silence between them before he added, “Stranger things have happened.”

“Like what, Clark?”

“Flying men,” Clark deadpanned.

“Aliens among us is what you’re going with here, seriously?”

Clark shrugged a third time. A least his little smirk hadn’t grown again. “At least the boxes with legs would be from this planet. Presumably.”

“Presumably,” Lois repeated, disbelief heavy in her tone.

“Well, if they grew legs, maybe it isn’t out of the realm of possibilities that the boxes are also alien.” Clark’s smirk had finally fallen so he could form a thoughtful, almost philosophical expression.

This man. He was so annoying. Sometimes.

Just before she could find a response that just might rip him to shreds, the second pallet arrived with the five other boxes.

“This is it?” Lois asked, just to be sure.

The man on the pallet truck nodded. “This is it,” he confirmed as he lowered the pallet to the ground. He backed away and turned mostly around before he added. “You should be good to go, now.” Then, he drove off.

And Clark already had a box in his hands. She hadn’t even realized he’d moved.

“Clark!” Lois scolded.

He turned to face her at the call of his name. “Well, you caught me. They didn’t grow legs.” He shook his head, as if disappointed.

She wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. “I can do it myself!”

Clark’s face softened. “I know,” he nearly murmured, “but I want to do it for you.”

And Lois let him load two additional boxes before she finally snapped back into action after she processed that comment. He was already hefting a fourth box before she crossed the short distance to the fifth. Damn his long legs, he was already in the truck before she even had a good grip on the final box. She heaved the box up and damn Clark made this look easy. She leaned back and briefly balanced on one leg to attempt to readjust her grip.

And then Clark was right in front of her. And he was reaching for the box. “Here, allow me,” he offered as he took the box anyway, without waiting for her response.

He shut the doors after securing the final box. Turning back to her, he tilted his head slightly and smiled wide. “I guess I’ll see you back at the Planet, Lois!” And then he hopped into the driver’s seat and was off.

And that was when Lois realized that Clark hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Damn farm boys,” she muttered as she walked around her car and got in.

Just down the road, one Clark Kent was snickering to himself.

Chapter Text

Prompt: Reminder: You’re the love of my life

Lois was exhausted. What a week it had been. She had been out of town for the past week, covering three separate galas. Why she was assigned them, she’d never know. But it was usually nice to doll oneself up on occasion.

She just wished her husband had been there with her, though. It would have made everything ten times better. Not to mention she’d gotten quite used to his warmth beside her at night. She found herself freezing in the hotel room.

Realistically, she could have asked him to come spend the nights with her. He was Superman; he possessed both superspeed and flight. He could literally answer her beck and call at any time.

But she didn’t want to risk him being needed. And even though he could be just about anywhere in seconds, she also knew it was risky asking him to fly into her hotel room, for a number of reasons. So, she resisted that temptation. And it was sorely tempting.

She had literally been gone from Metropolis for five days. She hadn’t seen her ridiculous alien in five whole days. It was Friday, nearly the weekend. And her flight had gotten in right around lunch. She was about to text Clark when she noticed the News playing on one of the airport TVs. Superman was currently halfway across the States helping with a rockslide. Well, so much for her romantic airport reunion.

She retrieved her baggage surprisingly quickly and hailed a taxi. She gave the driver the address to her apartment. When they got there, she asked him to wait for a moment as she was only dropping her luggage off. She hustled up the entryway and waited impatiently for the elevator. She nearly ran down the hall to her apartment and quickly unlocked it. Without even stepping inside, she tossed her luggage through the door, shut and locked it, and hustled back down to the cab.

Next stop, the Daily Planet. On the way there, she pulled up the News on her phone. Clark was still assisting with the rockslide, but it looked like things were wrapping up. He’d probably leave the scene within thirty minutes, go home to take a quick shower—he was covered in mud; the red and blue of his suit was barely visible, and only if you looked—and be back at work probably in forty-five. Lois could hardly wait; she’d missed him so much.

Lois gave the taxi driver a good tip for waiting on her and marched into the newspaper. She had a faint hope that maybe her News was lagging, and Clark would already be at his desk, typing away. Or, knowing him, he would hear her coming and conveniently happen to be headed in her direction and then get distracted by her presence and greet her at the elevator. She knew that wasn’t likely, but it was nice to dream.

And sure enough, his desk was empty. She sighed as she pulled her chair back from her desk and sat down. But before she could get comfy, she noticed a pastel blue sticky note attached to her computer. She gently removed it and brought it closer so she could read it better.

She melted when she recognized Clark’s neat handwriting. He must have known he would miss her because of the rockslide, but still wanted to do something, however small, to make her smile after a long week.

Reminder: You’re the love of my life.

She sat there staring at the sticky note for several minutes, just missing her husband but being touched by his sweetness. So, she was a little distracted and didn’t notice anyone come up to her. But then, there was a warm hand on her shoulder and suddenly Clark was kneeling down to be on her level.

She quickly placed the sticky note on her desk before turning her chair to face him. They didn’t say anything as they both leaned into each other for a much-needed hug. She held him close, and he tucked his face into her neck.

He smelled fresh, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. She huffed a laugh; he could be so predictable to the people who knew him. He hummed, wondering what she was laughing about. “You smell nice. I figured you’d take a shower before coming back to work.”

“Well, yeah, I was caked in mud,” he replied. It would have been snarky if he hadn’t murmured it into her skin before placing a kiss on her neck. “I don’t think Perry would really like me tracking mud through the bullpen.”

She huffed a laugh again, just imagining. ‘Kent!’ Perry would exclaim, face turning red, hands on his hips. ‘What the hell were you doing? Rolling around in the mud with the pigs? And then tracking it all through my bullpen?!’ He’d then make a stiff shooing gesture. ‘Go home, Kent. I don’t want muddy reporters. I’ll see you on Monday.’  As he would turn away, he’d mutter, ‘How the hell did he get that muddy?’

She squeezed Clark tighter before leaning back. She was sitting slightly higher than him, so pulling away meant Clark was looking up at her with his big, love-filled, puppy eyes. God, he made her melt.

“I missed you,” she breathed, surprised by how desperate that almost sounded.

Clark hummed, smiling softly. “I missed you, too. I almost flew to you like three times.”

Lois laughed quietly. “I almost asked you to come by,” she admitted.

Clark breathed a laugh as he ducked his head, shaking it fondly. “I should’ve just spawned, then.”

Lois ran a hand across his jaw, stopping just below his ear. She gently guided his head back up so she could look him in the eye. “Next time,” she offered before leaning in to kiss him.

They keep it sweet and chaste, so Clark’s, “I really wish we weren’t at work right now,” came as no surprise to his wife.

She hummed. “We could always go into the conference room. Make out a little.”

Clark’s eyes lit up and he nearly used superspeed to grab Lois’ hand and tug her to the conference room. She laughed as she let herself get pulled along. They locked the door and shut all the blinds before meeting in the middle for a much more reunion-appropriate kiss.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Prompt: Some have friends, some have soulmates, but I have both in you.

Clark Kent grew up with two amazing, incredibly loving parents. They loved him immensely and they made absolutely sure that he felt safe and loved at the farm, especially when he felt so awkward and lonely everywhere else. Jonathan and Martha Kent taught their son how to think, feel, and act like a human, including how to love and care, and to do what is right, even when no one is watching.

More than all that, though, Jonathan and Martha provided Clark with an excellent example of how to love each other, what a married couple should look like. It was respect and boundaries as well as support and understanding. It was apologizing and forgiving, communicating through things in many different ways, whether that be verbally, nonverbally, or through other, less direct methods, like Ma kicking Pa to the couch for a night or two.

Clark Kent knew exactly what a healthy and loving relationship between partners was supposed to look like. The books he loved to read spoke of soulmates, of someone made for him to fall completely in love with, someone who was made for him to do life with. And then Ma and Pa would always tell him, verbally or nonverbally, together or separate, to marry his best friend, someone he more or less would already be doing life with.

Lois Lane grew up with two parents, sure, but not in a traditional way. Her father was always busy being a five-star general of the U.S. of A. That left Lois and her younger sister Lucy being raised primarily by their mother.

At some point, still when Lois was very young, there was a slight uptick in the amount of time the General spent at home, but it was always mostly with Mom. And then Mom was sick. And then she was gone. And the General didn’t really know how to be a dad. So, the General treated Lois and Lucy more or less like cadets, teaching them how to be strong and independent. And Lois slipped into this mom-like older sibling status to spare Lucy, to the best of her frighteningly inadequate ability, from growing up too quickly.

The General, of course, never spoke about Mom, nor what his relationship with her was like. So, Lois—and Lucy, by default—didn’t know what a healthy relationship was supposed to look like.

Lois learned, through trial and error, what an unhealthy relationship looked like… many times. Lucy seemed to learn from Lois’ mistakes and found herself in healthy relationships, but they lacked real love.

Lois and Lucy, by the time Lois had established herself as an ace reporter, had both sworn off love and long-term relationships for the foreseeable future.

Of course, Clark Kent had to come in and completely derail everything Lois had sworn off. And truth be told, Lois couldn’t tell you exactly when it happened. There was, of course, the initial meeting where Lois had clocked his broad shoulders, smooth skin, sharp jawline, and gorgeous hair and immediately thought if the poor guy dared to stand up straight and get some contacts, he’d be incredibly attractive. Then, there was Clark’s not-so-subtle puppy love for her; she’d be lying if she said that didn’t affect and flatter her a large little bit. And as much as she tried to keep herself from getting close to Clark, his quiet stubbornness and Midwestern politeness wormed through all her stone and steel defenses without her every really realizing.

And before she knew it, Clark was her best friend, her closest confidante, the person she knew would be there for her no matter what. And then one day she didn’t say no when he asked her on a date. And one really amazing date became two, then five, then they’d celebrated their six months and then one year, and he was telling her his closest kept secrets that he’d never told anyone else. And then, he was sliding the most perfect rock on her finger.

During all that time, the year and half they dated before they got engaged, Lois had finally gotten to see what a healthy and loving relationship was supposed to look like. She thought it was a dream, or a bit from a cheesy Hallmark show, the way Clark would treat her. But then he started taking her home to Smallville, and Lois got to see and study the way Jonathan and Martha Kent interacted with each other, and their son. And along the way, Lois had been adopted into the Kent family and learned what it was like to have parents who so openly loved and cherished each other, who did life together. And then the way Clark treated her made complete and total sense.

She did her very best to share her experiences with Lucy, so that she could know, too. And without her ever having to say anything, Clark caught on and helped Lois share what love was supposed to look like between partners to her sister. And that made Lois love him that much more.

Lois sat at the small dining room table Clark kept in his apartment. She had just finished one of the romance novels Diana recommended to her—the fact Wonder Woman read romance mildly shocked Lois at the time, but it quickly started to make sense when Lois started reading the same books and discovered they were not the cheesy romance variety. Lois sat there fiddling with her engagement ring, lost in thought. This most recent book had the soulmates trope. Diana had recommended the book because it had reminded her of Lois and Clark’s relationship. After having read the book, Lois was deeply flattered, but it also lead to her reflection of her relationship with Clark.

He loved and cherished and respected her. The ways he always made that perfectly clear seemed so natural and authentic, which made her melt when she thought about it. If asked, he’d probably say she was the most brilliant and amazing and wonderful woman he’d ever met. If pressed, he’d probably admit that it was definitely an added bonus that he also happened to think she was drop dead gorgeous, as well. Of course, he’d swear up and down, right and left that he loved her ‘internal’ beauty more than her ‘external’ beauty, the dork.

But one thing stood out to Lois the most: Clark balanced her. And she balanced him. Clark was always there to hold her back or to talk some sense into her. Lois was always there to ground him or talk him down from a spiral, anxious or otherwise. Clark knew all of her somewhat manic or overly tenacious tendencies and accepted and loved her anyway. Lois knew all of his alienness and related insecurities and accepted and loved him anyway. They both supported each other through these things, whether that was convincing the other to come to bed and calm down or to encourage the other that it doesn’t matter how unusual they might be, they were still loved. They really were made for each other, the way they balanced each other.

All this to say, Diana was right, Clark was Lois’ soulmate. And he was the best one she could have ever hoped or dreamed or asked for.

Clark Kent knew exactly what a healthy and loving relationship between partners was supposed to look like. The books he loved to read spoke of soulmates, of someone made for him to fall completely in love with, someone who was made for him to do life with. And then Ma and Pa would always tell him, verbally or nonverbally, together or separate, to marry his best friend, someone he more or less would already be doing life with.

He happened to find both in Lois Lane.

Chapter Text

Prompt: no more bare minimum. I want the moon and the stars. Maybe even a planet at this point.

Lois Lane knew what a lousy boyfriend was. Out of all the guys she had dated, she had only ever brought two to meet her dad. And he had ripped both of them to pieces. And in doing so, had proven that neither of them had been good for her. Which, she already sort of knew that anyway, seeing as though they had hardly ever done anything for her.

Her father had not been around much. It wasn’t really his fault, since it was work that took him away. Sam Lane took great pride in serving his country. And he was excellent at that. He wasn’t so great at parenting. And in true Lane fashion, he stuck to what he won awards for.

But because he hadn’t been around much, especially back when her mom was still alive, Lois didn’t know what a boyfriend was supposed to do. So, for most of her romantic life, she was okay with the guy who took her to cheap burger joints and only paid for his food except on the rarest of occasions. She was okay with the guy who showed up after dinner to watch movies on her couch and spend the night. She was okay with the guy who brought her to bars and paid for her drinks but otherwise ignored her. She was okay with all of this because she was either spending time with someone she saw as somewhat of a friend or getting what she wanted, or thought she wanted, wanted at the time, maybe?

But then she saw what Lucy started bringing home. She saw that it was a direct reflection of what Lucy saw Lois doing. And Lois suddenly wasn’t okay with any of the guys she had dated because she didn’t want Lucy to be okay with any of them.

So, Lois got her shit together. She put up walls, because she knew she’d been walked over too many times, and she had cried into too many pints of rocky road. She raised her standards. She wouldn’t date a guy who wouldn’t pay for her food, wouldn’t bring her flowers when he showed up to spend the night, and wouldn’t ignore her if they ever went to bars.

She was Lois fucking Lane. She was an award-winning journalist. She was a fucking queen. She deserved to be treated like one. So what if people called her an Ice Queen? She didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let herself get burned again. She wasn’t going to let herself feel inadequate just because some douche bag didn’t know how to dote on royalty. And she was going to make damn sure that Lucy knew she deserved the same treatment, too.

Lois promised herself she wouldn’t date a man that wouldn’t treat her right. And she didn’t. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t go on a few dates with some guys just to get a free meal. She wasn’t stupid. Pretty girls can get good food a few times a month just because guys wanted to hit that. She could play along. She knew how to play others because she’d been played enough times. Fair’s fair, if you asked her.

So, she had a habit of going on a few sweet and innocent first, second, and maybe even third dates with a guy just to get some food and an excuse to dress up. They never led to anything, usually. But what’s the occasional casual hookup? Those nights were saved for first and only dates. If she brought him home, she wasn’t seeing him again. Though nights that ended like that were rare, and usually directly related to days she was mad at one Clark Kent. Why that was, she couldn’t fathom, and definitely didn’t want to try to find the answer.

Lois’ dating policy was pretty cruel, for the guy, at least. And that was why she turned Clark down the first four times he asked her out. He was a sweetheart. She didn’t want to hurt him by bringing him home or just use him for free food. He was smart and would catch on and that would open up another can of worms Lois never wanted to get into. He would maybe lecture her about her policy and how wrong it was. Or he would get really hurt and withdraw into himself—which Lois wanted to avoid at all costs; Clark had somehow someway become Lois’ best friend, and she couldn’t bear the silent treatment from him, couldn’t bear knowing she could hurt him deeply enough that he wouldn’t be himself around her.

When Clark started to ask her to dinner or lunch under the guise of “going over notes” or “reviewing what we know about a case” or something similar, Lois was hesitant. Clark, whether or not he knew the true reason she was hesitant to agree, pointed out that they usually end up ordering food when they put their heads together over a story anyway, so might as well “jump the gun.”

The first few times Lois agreed to these outings, Clark acted like that was exactly what it was, them meeting up over food to go over a story. They would usually come up with something that had Lois running out the door, not realizing that she’d forgotten to pay. Clark would shake his head fondly, a slight smile on his lips as he counted out cash to leave on the table before quickly following her.

A few outings after Lois stopped hesitating to agree to food, Clark’s behavior started to change. But he did it so slowly over the next several outings that Lois never really noticed. He started pulling out her chair, started ordering for her when she was too distracted to order for herself, started leaving cash on the table before she ran out the door, to finally paying with a card while Lois watched. His slow integration of this gentleman behaviorisms was brilliant. He knew Lois would never agree to lunch or dinner if she thought it was a date. But eventually, that didn’t stop him from pretending that’s exactly what they were—or stop her from pretending that’s exactly what they were not.

About a year after this pattern, Clark asked her out, gently stressing he was asking for an actual date. Lois asked him to let her think about it. She had felt horrible, not wanting to crush his soul to pieces, but genuinely wanting time to think about her answer, weigh if this was worth the risk to her. But, to her great relief, Clark had smiled softly, as if that response was exactly what he was hoping to hear. And maybe it was, Clark knew her very well. They were best friends. And maybe to him, not hearing an immediate “no” was the best thing he was expecting.

Lois went home that night in a daze. Clark’s behavior over the past year had taught her exactly how a man should treat a woman on a date, if he wanted to treat her like royalty. Lois was slightly amazed at the brilliance of his slow integration of those actions. He had totally thought that through, the dork. She couldn’t really be mad at him. Sure, he had plotted and schemed to sneak through her defenses, but that really just proved he was determined to treat her right. And he had treated her like a queen while being labeled as “coworker” or “partner” or “best friend.” This man didn’t let being friend zoned hard stop him. And she had to respect that.

So, she knew he would treat her right. This was a man she would let herself date. But the main hang-up she had was that he was her best friend. And she couldn’t lose that. And she wasn’t sure she could risk their relationship. What if they tried this and it didn’t work? What if, no matter how compatible they seemed at work, they just weren’t compatible for life partners? What if things went sour in their romantic relationship and it ruined their friendship?

Lois usually got to work before almost everyone else. But instead of heading to the Daily Planet when she left her apartment, she went to Clark’s. There was a chance he wasn’t awake yet, but this was important, and it couldn’t wait until after work. So, she pulled out the spare key Clark had given her—after one particularly bad incident where her apartment had been boobytrapped—and opened his door without attempting to alert him to her entry.

She called his name as soon as she opened the door though. And didn’t hear an answer. But she lights in his living room and kitchen were out, so she really shouldn’t have expected one. She made her way over to the bedroom door that was shut. She placed her cheek on the smooth wood and listened for any sound of movement. She didn’t hear any.

Being the curious woman she was, she tried the handle. It was unlocked, and that was as good as permission. So, she slowly twisted the handle and eased the door open just a crack. She poked her head into the bedroom. The blinds were all open, letting in the early morning sun. Clark was sprawled across the entirety of his bed, almost sunbathing. Clark had always given golden retriever vibes, but this image gave lazy cat, napping in the sun the way he was.

Lois felt a little embarrassed, since Clark was only wearing a loose undershirt and his boxers, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She soaked up this soft picture of him. He had clearly kicked off the blankets, apparently enjoying the warmth the sun offered from all the windows in his room. He was flat on his back with limbs splayed except for his left arm which was rested on his stomach. His head was rolled to the side facing the door, which allowed her to see that his mouth was slightly open, and a thin line of drool fell across his cheek. That’s some good sleep then.

Lois had never really noticed that Clark had curly hair. He always kept it slicked back. And apparently used enough gel to straighten his hair. And maybe she could understand why, because that curly mess didn’t look like it could be tamed without an entire jar of gel. But it did look really soft and fluffy. And Lois hoped against all hope that Clark’s eyes were not open underneath his bangs. She did not want to get caught. But then she remembered Clark was legally blind, so even if his eyes were open and somehow able to see through his bangs, he wouldn’t be able to see her anyway.

She let herself linger for a few more moments before she realized she was being creepy and quietly shut the door. She’d wait on his couch until he woke up.

Clark’s alarm had woken him up exactly three seconds before he registered the sound of Lois’ keychain jingling right outside his door. Wanting to see what would happen, or maybe wanting the excuse to snooze, he wasted no time in throwing himself back into his previously undisturbed sleeping position. He felt a little bad when he ignored Lois calling his name, but knew she would see that his lights were off and take that as answer enough.

He made sure to even his breathing as he listened to Lois come closer to his door. He told himself to not hold his breath as he waited to see if Lois would open the door or not—he was fighting all the little-kid-hiding-his-ds-from-the-bedtime-enforcing-parents instincts.

He was breathing deeply and evenly, looking completely relaxed when Lois opened the door. And he maintained this the entire time she stood in the cracked doorway just watching him. He usually didn’t like the feeling of being examined, but for some reason it was different with her. He couldn’t explain that, so he didn’t worry about it.

He had nearly fallen back asleep when she seemed to shake herself out of her reverie and close the door. He heard her creep through his apartment, trying to be quiet for him apparently, and make herself comfortable on his couch. Two minutes later, his phone buzzed. He reached over and tapped his phone and saw that the text was from Lois. He also saw that his snooze alarm had two minutes and forty-three seconds left and decided to flop back down and look at the text when the alarm went off.

And two minutes and forty-three seconds later, he wished he’d gotten up when he was already awake because now he didn’t want to. But Lois might have heard the alarm go off, so that was motivation as any to get out of bed. And the first thing he did was read her text.

hey sory if this wake s u up but i need to tlk wih u b4 wrk abt wht u askd yestrdy. i invitd myslf ovr and am in ur livng romm rn btw sry thats kndof wierd but thought ud be awake lol

And since he was fluent in Lois-spelling, he didn’t even need to translate that into “Hey, sorry if this wakes you up, but I need to talk with you before work about what you asked yesterday. I invited myself over and am in your living room right now, by the way. Sorry, that’s kind of weird but thought you’d be awake lol.”

He typed out a quick response: “OK. Give me a minute, I’ll be right out.” He hesitated briefly before sending another text. “It’s not weird. You have a key. And you know you can wake me up, right?”

He waited for her response for a moment. He tuned his ears to his living room and heard her scrolling through Instagram. Laughing softly to himself, he shut his phone off and headed to the bathroom.

Halfway through shaving, his phone lit up with a soft buzz. Shutting off his laser vision, he looked down and saw Lois had texted him.

yeah ik but u lokd comfy so i let u have it this time

He laughed softly when he read that and responded with a quick “Aw thanks sm” completed with a kissy face emoji.

When Lois responded with an eye roll and a middle finger, he chuckled and set down his phone. Then, he sped through his morning routine, not wanting to keep Lois waiting too long but also curious about what she was going to say. He nearly forgot his glasses as he finished getting ready, so he made sure to take a second to make sure he’d not skipped any other steps. Satisfied, he tucked his phone in his pocket and walked into his kitchen.

“Morning, Lois, would you like some coffee?” He had already started putting the pieces in the machine to make some for himself as he waited for her response.

Lois apparently hadn’t heard him exit his bedroom or walk into the kitchen as her head whipped around in surprise to face him. “Oh, hey, Clark. Sure, yeah, coffee’d be nice.”

He nodded as he turned his gaze to the machine to finish prepping it. “And how about breakfast? I have some bagels and some Eggos.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Clark looked up at Lois with a flat look. Lois met his gaze for nine seconds before continuing, “Actually, you know what? Eggos sound pretty good. They better be the chocolate chip kind, though.”

Clark smiled triumphantly as he turned to his freezer. “Of course, Lois. Why would I get any other kind?” Clark deliberately didn’t listen to whatever Lois mumbled under her breath at him. He’d let her have that victory since he won the battle of making sure she had breakfast.

Lois was glad Clark didn’t immediately start the conversation she’d come over here to have. Seeing him—awake—scrambled her brain a little bit and she needed the time to compose what she wanted to say. So, she enjoyed the quiet of his apartment. He let her think with the only noise being the whirring of the brewing coffee, the hum of the toaster, and the soft shuffling of Clark’s movements.

By the time he set a plate of three waffles and some sliced strawberries in front of her with a coffee and a bottle of syrup, she was ready to talk. But she waited for him to return with his own breakfast and the silverware before she started.

He made himself comfortable on the ground across from her, plate on the coffee table with his mug of coffee in his hands. He signaled he was ready to listen just by looking at her with undivided attention.

It was a little overwhelming but soothing at the same time. And that made no sense to her. He knew this was going to be an important conversation and was treating it—her—with due attention and respect. But this was also so different from anything else she had ever experienced that she didn’t really know what to do with this attention.

To calm herself down some, she stabbed a piece of strawberry and popped it into her mouth. That got Clark to start sipping his coffee. Okay. That made things a lot better actually. The coffee was not a distraction at all, but it was enough of something to let Lois pretend it was dividing Clark’s attention.

“Okay,” Lois started, sighing a little. “So, here’s the thing, Clark. You’re my best friend. I love what we have already. And I absolutely cannot lose this. I don’t have many friends and definitely don’t want to lose the best one. I’m really worried us dating will jeopardize that.” Everything came out in a rush. She had babbled it all out before she could stop herself and now, suddenly, she had nothing to say.

Clark looked a little taken aback. He blinked owlishly at her, clearly trying to process what she just said and to formulate a response. Then, he placed his coffee on the table, still holding it with both hands. He bowed his head, resting it on his forearms for a moment.

After a beat had passed, Clark straightened, pulling up to look at her while dropping his hands to his lap. “I hear you. I get that. I don’t want to lose our friendship either, but I also don’t want to miss the opportunity to see if it can become so much more.”

Lois sucked in a slow breath. He had a point. How could they know if they never tried? And what if, years down the road, Clark ended up with someone else and Lois was stuck regretting not even trying to see if they would work?

Clark let her think. He waited so patiently for her response. Lois’ mind was spinning. Okay, she didn’t want to regret not trying it out. And they were both professionals. Maybe they could try this safely. “Okay, Clark,” Lois paused to take a breath and figure out her wording, “What if we promise each other that no matter what happens, we don’t lose our friendship?”

“I can do that,” Clark promised gravely and without hesitation. He let Lois absorb his response before he continued. “It doesn’t have to be anything crazy, Lois. I’m not asking to make it to third base or anything. Just a step in a more… intimate direction.”

“What about first base?” Lois asked, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Clark laughed softly, knowing what she was trying to do and hopping on board. “If you want, I’m okay with that.”

“Okay, so what does slow look like?”

Clark picked his coffee back up and took a sip. Shrugging his shoulders, he replied, “Dates that are actual dates, not work dates. Movie dates. We could consult Pinterest or Instagram. I don’t really know. I’m a country boy, Lo,” he joked, “I dunno what to do in the city, really.”

Lois laughed, grateful that Clark was making jokes. He knew her well enough to recognize her anxieties needed easing. And that thought soothed her deeply. She knew Clark meshed well with her. He’d followed her around like a lovesick puppy for years. He was constantly taking care of her, treating her right. And he’d done so consistently. The only times when his behavior became slightly irregular was when he was sick or there was a major problem with his parents that one time. And his behavior had only become forgetful as extremely important things—like health—had taken priority over making sure Lois had her morning cup of coffee.

All that to say, Lois could see herself with Clark. For once in her life, she could successfully imagine herself sharing and building a life with someone, with him.

Six months later, their slow trial period had evolved from dipping their toes in to jumping headfirst into the deep end.

Two days after Clark bared his soul to Lois, letting her know his deepest, darkest secrets, she found herself pulling a long, jagged shard of Kryptonite out of his side as he tried his damndest to not pass out. Clark looked awful. His suit was ripped and ragged, barely covering him at all, he didn’t have a cape anymore. His hair was matted and pasted to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was ghostly. His eyes shone with deep pain and righteous disgust as he glared at the shard of radioactive meteor she was still holding.

And that’s when Lois Lane silently admitted she was deeply in love with this man. He could, and would, do more than the bare minimum in his current state. If she wanted the moon and stars, he’d find a way to bring them to her. Hell, he’d give her the world if she asked.

She wasn’t literally capable of doing the same, but she would do her damndest to make sure he was safe and happy. But she absolutely could promise, no matter what, that she would always love him as long as she drew breath.

Chapter Text

It was a rough week for Lois Lane. Perry had killed three stories she had been working on. He’d never killed more than one in a week since Lois had been hired at the Planet. So, three was a tough break for her.

Maybe if she hadn’t been flying solo on these she would have gotten a yellow light, if not a green.

Clark had been off world the past ten days. Lois was half sure Perry either knew Clark was Superman or was wondering why Lois hadn’t filed a missing persons case, despite Clark’s use of sick days.

Not only was Lois probably red lighted because of her lack of partner, she also didn’t have her usual sounding board. And Clark was very good at that. She’d trained him well. He also usually had good ideas on his own, too.

But Clark had her trained as well; he taught her how to expect the princess treatment. So, over the past eight workdays, Lois had forgotten he wasn’t there to give her coffee precisely three hundred and twenty-two times, according to Jimmy’s running tally. And it was for the same reason she had forgotten to eat lunch three times. She just didn’t have time during the day five times. Or that’s the story she’d make sure would get back to Clark, at least. It was better than nothing.

So, no partner, no sounding board, no coffee provider, and no food reminder. But the worst part was she was down a superheated body pillow. She hadn’t realized how used to sleeping wrapped up in Clark’s arms she had become until he was gone for so long. She briefly heard a voice in the back of her head saying, “You’ve gone soft.” It sounded suspiciously like her father. She squashed that thought with the truth: Clark was a snuggle bug and she didn’t stand a chance in a (snuggle) fight with a Kryptonian (she could defeat him in verbal combat, but he was really good with words, too).

All that to say, it was a very tiring week. And that was without considering the two stories that had brought her very close to active bombs. Granted, she’d not been the target either time, so wasn’t ever truly in danger, but both instances had her tossed around and had gotten her banged up some. So, that was why she was sporting a boot on her right foot and a brace on her left wrist as well as a large bandage on her forehead. And that was the bandage that was visible. There were a few larger ones spread across her torso. Nothing was broken, thankfully, just painfully sprained. It only slowed her down a little. She was more handicapped by not having her super-typing, super-eavesdropping, super-snooping partner with her at all times.

Everyone could tell she was tired. So, no one could blame her when she slumped into her chair upon returning to her desk after finally submitting the latest bombing story to Perry.

And that’s when her stomach rumbled. That was enough for Lois to call it a day. She had forgotten to eat lunch—she blamed Clark, because he was the responsible one in their relationship, the one with the healthy eating habits… despite not needing to eat, like a human, at least—and it was around dinnertime. Lois called it a day.

She hobbled through the hallway to her apartment door. She was so tired. She didn’t know if there were any leftovers left in the fridge and didn’t want to thaw any that might be in the freezer. And she wouldn’t have wanted to cook without being in a brace, so she definitely wasn’t about to now.

Getting takeout it was, then.

But she was gonna change, first. And maybe shower. It had been raining when she left the Planet, and she was slower in the boot, so she got drenched. And she felt disgusting because of it.

It was a good thing the boot was mostly waterproof, and she didn’t have to wear it at home, since she was free to move as slowly as she needed to.

She threw her purse onto the bed as soon as she entered the bedroom. And she almost decided to just flop down alongside it when she noticed the figure standing in the bathroom doorway.

Turning her head, too tired to really be on alert if it was a kidnapper, she huffed an exhausted laugh when she saw Clark, clearly having just stepped out of the shower, nothing but a towel around his waist, regarding her with a worried look on his face.

“Lois—” he started, taking a step forward.

And that’s when Lois started to sob. She put a hand over her eyes and wrapped her injured arm around her waist, hugging herself.

Clark took three large steps and was at her side in an instant, pulling her arms away from her and replacing them with his own to pull her against his solid frame.

Lois hugged him immediately, not wanting to let go. Clark just held her tighter.

Clark let her cry into his chest for several minutes. He rubbed soothing circles in her back and pressed his cheek against the top of her head, occasionally pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Lois,” Clark started again, voice soft but full of worry. “What happened? Why are you in a boot? A brace? What’s with the bandages?”

Lois, who’s sobs had started to subside, cried a little harder at his questions.

He desperately made soothing noises, hating to see her upset. She was usually so strong. Seeing her like this hurt him, especially when he hadn’t been here to stop it from getting to this point. He of all people knew how hard it was to be strong all of the time, and how much harder it was to do so when one’s pillars were so far away.

Clark exaggerated his breathing. He took deep, loud breaths, trying to get Lois to copy him. It took a few tries, but eventually she started following his pattern.

“I was following leads on stories. There were two bombs. I wasn’t the target but got thrown in both blasts. It’s okay, though. Nothing’s broken,” Lois answered him finally between hiccups.

Clark pulled back slightly. Enough to look at her. He withdrew his arms so he could cup her face in both hands. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

She was sure she made a sorry picture: circles under her eyes, a few scrapes here and there plus the large bandage on her forehead, tear stained cheeks and reddened eyes to match… also her hair was just on the dryer side of dripping wet.

They say eyes are the window into the soul. Lois knew that was only certain for some people and in some situations. For her, it was always true with Clark. Sure, there were moments where he was harder to read, but she knew her man better than just about anyone on the planet—and off it—so she always knew the ballpark Clark’s thoughts were in when she looked him in the eye. And right now, he was not only worried but sorrowful.

“Don’t—don’t you go blaming yourself,” Lois told him, knowing exactly what that look was.

“But if I—”

“If you had been here, I probably would have left you typing up one of the stories Perry wouldn’t let me work alone while I went and managed the bomb stories. You would have only pampered me sooner and gotten me more food.”

“One of the stories Perry wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, so part of the reason I was so upset just now,” Lois paused, wiping tears out from under her eye, but then dropping her hand as soon as Clark took over that job, “is because Perry killed three of my stories this week. And I am like ninety percent sure it’s because you weren’t there to work them with me. So that was beyond frustrating. He’s never killed more than one in a week! And this week it was three!”

Clark’s thumbs weren’t wiping tears anymore, but they were still caressing her cheeks. “I’m sorry, hun,” he murmured, his midwestern slipping into his voice.

Lois leaned into his touch. “I also forgot to get my own coffee literally every day because you,” she accentuated Clark’s involvement by shoving a finger into his chest, “have me expecting my coffee delivered without me even having to ask.”

That got Clark to chuckle some. And that sound had Lois relaxing on levels she hadn’t even known were tense.

“Jimmy was apparently keeping track of how many times I reached for a coffee cup that wasn’t there. Got up to three hundred and twenty something, I think, over the eight days in the office you weren’t there, ya know.”

Clark’s chuckled had faded, but his lips widened as she continued that train of thought. “And how many times did you forget about lunch?” he asked without his smile fading any.

Lois dropped her chin slightly and then looked at him through her eyelashes, trying to distract him some. “Three times.”

“Uh huh.” Clark nodded slightly, facial expression and voice clearly stating that he didn’t believe her for a second, superpowers or not.

“I didn’t eat lunch five times because I just didn’t have time, but that’s different and you know it!”

“Yeah, of course, Lois. Never mind how we’ve not had time to eat lunch only twice the past month. Now I disappear for nearly two workweeks, and you’ve ‘not had time’ five times?”

“Yeah, because I was picking up your slack!”

Clark just looked at her.

“That’s my story. I’m sticking to it. I don’t care what you think. But I am starving, and you are here, so feed me, husband.”

Clark laughed. “How about I order something since I’m sure there isn’t much here to make something with. Then we can shower together.”

“You just got out of the shower!” Lois protested.

“So? You’re in a boot and so tired you cried. I’m going to help you shower and there isn’t a thing you can do about it, sugar.”

Lois sighed dramatically and dropped her head to his chest in defeat. “Fine. I guess I get to see your sexy ass that way.”

“And what is stopping you from dropping the towel?” Clark shot back, starting to pull away, probably to grab his phone so he could order dinner.

Lois blinked stupidly. She hadn’t even thought to do that; she’d mostly said what she did to mess with Clark. Damn. She really was tired.

She let him start ordering takeout before she grabbed the towel, ripped it off, and grabbed two handfuls of his cheeks. To his credit, he didn’t reflect anything in his voice as he ordered dinner. He did send her a loaded look over his shoulder, though. And as soon as he hung up, he twirled around to face her and didn’t let her get a good look before he grabbed her by the waist and gently slung her over his shoulder.

She let out a shriek in surprise. He laughed evilly as he started removing the boot. She followed that lead and dropped her brace to the floor.

In the shower, as Clark helped support her weight, keeping it off her bad ankle, she admitted that maybe he was right about her needing help. She didn’t say anything out loud about it, but she would bet her bottom dollar that he knew what she wasn’t saying by the way she sighed in content, leaned into him, and supported herself with her grip on his hips as he washed her hair and then her body.

She laughed at his ridiculous chivalry when he carried her out of the shower and patted her dry with a towel after he helped swoop her hair into a hair towel twist. He looked up at her with an innocently mischievous grin and kissed her leg just above her knee. She ran a hand through his hair which was just starting to dry from his first shower, miraculously having not gotten re-wet as he had helped her shower.

She sure picked a man that knew how to treat a lady when she was injured—well, he knew how to treat her right when she was healthy, too, but still, he was pampering her a little extra.

And then, when the food arrived, and he declared dinner in bed, she laughed and laughed as he insisted on feeding her.

When she protested that she could feed herself, he playfully argued that her wrist was sprained, so he should do it for her. She opened her mouth to argue that it was her non-dominant wrist that had been sprained but he quickly popped a bite of eggroll in her mouth before she could form any words. And the absolutely cheeky grin he sported made her giggle and choke her arguments down so she wouldn’t choke on any food.

She had come home completely exhausted. Two hours later, as she was tucked in her husband’s arms watching their show, she realized that she was completely reenergized now. Truly amazing how Clark’s presence eased her anxiety and stress and removed her exhaustion. She was completely relaxed with him. He was her safe space. And really, he was Superman; her safe space was quite literally the safest space she could ever find.

Chapter Text

Lois woke up alone. She knew her man; he was probably off Supermanning. She rolled over to reach her phone and felt a tightness in her lower back. Ugh. She’d spent too much time hunched over at her desk instead of chasing stories yesterday.

She tapped her phone to see her notifications and saw a text from Clark. Something about having to go help with a rockslide.

She carefully rolled back over so as to not jostle her back too much. She flicked the tv on to check the news. Sure enough, Superman was getting muddy while assisting with a rockslide. She giggled when in one particular camera shot, the wind blew the cape away from his body allowing a good view of Superman’s muddied trunks. Lois could only imagine Clark slipping and busting his ass on the ground. She’d have to remember to make fun of him for that.

Satisfied that Clark would be okay, she turned the tv off and eased herself out of bed. She laughed at herself when she caught her reflection. She was wearing one of Clark’s undershirts—quite possibly one of the only shirts that actually fit him, for God’s sake—and it engulfed her. She had a mild case of bedhead, and one cheek was pink and lined from where it had been smushed against her pillow all night.

She decided she wanted to start the day with a bath. As she was in her second trimester, she knew she had to be careful, but it was still a luxury she was allowed without supervision. She started filling the bathtub with warm water. And because she wanted to soak for a while, she compromised by opening the window, letting the cool October air filter through the room.

She filled the tub with soaking salts and bubble bath as the water level rose steadily. She padded into the kitchen where she fixed herself a nice, big glass of ice water to help regulate her temperature.

She lit a few candles for ambience and eased herself into the tub. She hadn’t been relaxed for very long—fifteen minutes, max—when she heard Clark come home.

He looked less filthy than she expected him to. And he hadn’t been aware of his surroundings as he was halfway through removing the suit when he froze, realizing the bath was occupied.

He had the shirt mostly off, arms barely still inside the sleeves while his torso was entirely bare. He stood still as a statue for a moment as he regarded his wife. His shoulders slumped as he breathed an “aw man.”

Lois giggled and teasingly slunk deeper into the bubbles.

“Oh, I would so join you right now if I wasn’t covered in mud,” Clark whined.

“Go shower elsewhere then,” Lois presented her solution.

Clark lit up immediately, shucked the shirt of his suit the rest of the way off—now only in his muddied pants, trunks, and boots—before he quickly balled the shirt and the cape up and threw them in the hamper. He leaned down to give her a kiss on the head, said, “I’ll be right back!” and then was gone in the blink of an eye.

Lois idly counted the minutes as she waited for him to return. And three minutes and forty-seven seconds later, he was back, buck naked and completely clean. The rest of his filthy suit joined the first half in the hamper with the boots placed right beside it.

Lois giggled as he stepped into the tub.

“C’mon, scoot up a little,” he prodded gently.

Before they’d gotten married, Clark’s apartment didn’t have a tub at all, and Lois’ tub had fit her comfortably, but Clark had looked ridiculous trying to fit in it. A big tub was something they had tried to find when apartment shopping. Lois was glad they had been able to renovate their bathroom to accommodate a tub that could hold two people comfortably, even if it was a bit tight with how large Clark was. They made it work, and more than a few relaxing baths together had been shared here.

Lois slowly shifted, careful that her back might still be stiff, so Clark could slip in behind her. It was awkward only for a brief moment as he sunk in the water and settled down before he gently grasped her waist and readjusted her to be comfortable. She sighed contentedly as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple.

“You’re not too hot, are you?” he murmured into her hairline as his hands stopped to rest under the slight swell of her belly.

“Mmm, no. My back is stiff, though,” Lois told him. “But I need to wash my hair, so the bath will have to be shorter.”

Clark kissed her temple again. “I can wash your hair. And give you a back massage.”

Lois hummed in response. “You’re so sweet.”

“Well,” Clark mumbled. Lois could tell from his voice that his cheeks were pink. “I love you and I want to take care of you, especially since you’re spending so much energy growing a baby. Our baby,” he nearly purred, lips gently pressed against her skin.

“Well, I definitely won’t complain,” Lois replied, voice low to match his tone.

Clark and Lois soaked a bit longer in the bath before Clark gently sat Lois up and started washing her hair for her. She found the feel of his strong fingers gently massaging shampoo into her scalp extremely relaxing and vowed to make him do this more often.

He knew her routine… of course he did, the thoughtful, attentive partner that he was. She didn’t have to tell him to do anything or explain how he should do certain things. He already knew as he’d seen her do it countless times. He was amazing like that.

When it was time to get out, Clark slipped out from under her, stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist before helping her up and out of the tub. Lois knew they would raise their son to be the perfect gentleman his father was.

He helped her into some clothes. He’d seemed to understand she was in a comfy kind of mood, so he picked out her favorite pair of comfy shorts—they were like sweatpants but had a three-inch inseam—as well as one of his old sweatshirts from high school. He completed the look with a pair of fuzzy socks. He knew her so well.

She padded out to the kitchen again as he dressed himself. It didn’t take him long to catch up.

“Wanna sit down, and I’ll fix breakfast?” he offered.

“I do want to sit but I’m not hungry.” He helped her ease into a chair, despite her insistence that she wasn’t that pregnant yet.

“Okay, so I’ll make you a smoothie, because hungry or not you do need to eat something.”

Lois sighed long-sufferingly. She knew he was right. And she’d left the morning sickness behind in the first trimester.

Lois grumbled under her breath about him being a helicopter husband but sat back to watch him bustle around the kitchen to make a smoothie for her and a hearty breakfast for himself. As she enjoyed her view, an especially stellar one as Clark had only tugged on some shorts, she pondered how amazing he really was to her. She might jest and call him a helicopter husband, but he was just making sure she was safe and healthy. And considering that she was carrying a half-alien baby, he was more than justified and was actually being very chill about the whole thing, considering all the science they were currently proving wrong.

Maybe she could add “assisted in groundbreaking scientific discoveries” to her résumé. It was technically true. And she was doing a lot of the heavy lifted seeing as though she was the one growing the groundbreaking science inside herself. Funny as the thought was, she really didn’t like to think of her child as a science project. Besides, she wouldn’t ever need a résumé anyway since she had her dream job already. Still, the idea made her laugh.

“What?” Clark asked, briefly stopping what he was doing to look at her.

Lois snapped out of her reverie. “Hmm?”

“What’s so funny?” Clark clarified, apparently thinking he’d done something if the confused look he shot the pan he was holding was anything to go by.

“Oh, nothing. I just had the thought that, if I wanted, I could add that I have assisted in groundbreaking science to my résumé.” Lois shrugged. “But I don’t really like all the dark corners that statement has, so just think of it at face value.”

Clark stared at her for a good three seconds before the cheesiest, shit-eating grin broke out on his face. “You should. It’s not like anyone would even see the addition. That’d be funny.”

“Our baby is not a science experiment!”

Clark hummed, dropping the pan to his side as he turned more fully to face her. “Well, it kinda is,” Clark stated, tone thoughtful, which was the only reason Lois didn’t immediately interject. “’Cause, when you think about it, sex-ed was taught in science class, so really, all baby-making is a science experiment. Our baby-making is just extra science-y, though, because of the added extraterrestrial-ness.” Clark accentuated the last statement by bringing his hands up, almost like he was going to make jazz hands, and wiggling his fingers. This was slightly offset by the pan Clark was still holding in one hand. Or maybe that made his point even funnier, as he intended.

Lois couldn’t help herself, she threw her head back and laughed. She heard Clark do the same at almost the same time.

They continued to giggle and crack jokes along the same vein the entire time Clark was busy in the kitchen. By the time Clark sat down beside Lois with his plate and her smoothie, the conversation shifted from semi-alien babies to Superman missions to their current stories they were working.

It was a good lazy morning. And it only got better when Clark pulled Lois into his lap gently and started working his magic on her lower back. He had to be using his powers to be so good at this. From the level of concentration on his face, Lois knew her hypothesis was correct. She breathed a contented sigh and relaxed into him as he massaged away the lingering ache that her bath hadn’t soothed.

Lois was very pleased, and a little smug, to hand Perry her Smokers piece.

He hadn’t wanted her to be on the story, thinking the string of arsons might be too dangerous for her since she was nearly six months pregnant. Lois had been livid leaving his office after hearing that. She was sure it was the pregnancy hormones that had her nearly in tears when she marched up to Clark’s desk to tell him Perry had assigned the story to him instead.

Clark had silently stood up and had pulled her to his chest. He just held her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms while breathing deeply and evenly. The initial resting her head on his chest bit very nearly sent her over the edge, but as she tried to breathe with him, she was successfully able to keep all the tears at bay.

After he was confident she was sufficiently calm, Clark pulled away just enough to get Lois to tilt her head to look him in the eye.

“It’s my piece,” Clark had said, “but you’re my partner, so I guess that means we just have to work it together.”

“Perry said it’s too dangerous for me,” Lois had mumbled into his chest.

“When has that ever stopped you? Perry isn’t your husband nor the father of your child. I appreciate that he’s trying to keep you safe, but I can do that just fine on my own. I will be right there beside you the entire time. So, this story is going to have the Lane-Kent byline.”

She remembered being surprised by that response from Clark. She was so sure he would tell her he was sorry but that he ultimately agreed with Perry.

But then again, Clark was Superman; it would be nearly impossible for anything to happen to her while he was right there next to her. And he knew her well. She would probably have gone off anyway to get the story. He was asking her to let him be there beside her so that his anxieties could be kept to a minimum while he let her do her thing.

He also knew that she had let herself lose some more dangerous stories and that taking too much of a back seat would make her lose her mind. He knew the arson case wasn’t as dangerous as some of the other ones she’d wanted to chase. He was meeting her in the middle, offering a compromise. God, she loved this man. He really got her. And he loved letting her do her thing, enjoyed watching her be in her element.

So, okay, Lois was more than a little smug when she handed Perry the Smokers piece. Because her husband had enabled her to disobey Perry.

But the fond exasperation on Perry’s face suggested that he had more or less expected this to happen. In hindsight, that was probably why Perry had pawned the case off to Clark. They’d played right into his hands, it seemed.

Lois wasn’t going to let that erode her victory, though, especially since it meant Perry hadn’t ever wanted to sideline his best reporter anyway. The man had done the best thing he could have: attached Lois to the one person on the planet that could talk even a little bit of sense into her, who also happened to be the only person that could keep up with her insane drive to get the story and keep her safe at the same time.

Is it any wonder they ended up together? They were the same brand of crazy.

Lois felt a little bad as she sat at the small dining room table they had in their apartment. Here she was, painting her nails without a care in the world, and poor Clark had been sent to the grocery store with a list a mile long. She let herself feel a little evil for about two minutes before she told herself Clark was always eager to do the chores—since farm chores were a whole other beast and he was used to those—as the mundane activities always made him feel a little bit more normal. He was a little ridiculous, but she loved him anyway. He also had superspeed, and although he would never blatantly use them in the grocery store, he probably had a method of using superspeed to augment what a human would normally be capable of—e.g. Clark had the fastest typing speed at the Daily Planet, but not so fast that it seemed otherworldly, just unique and oddly skilled.

So, she told herself not to feel bad because Clark was better at grocery shopping than she was—his rate of impulse buying was also significantly lower than hers—and it provided him the opportunity to feel less alien than he felt in his day-to-day. So really, she was just helping him feel normal and reducing unnecessary spending by sending him to the store.

She had successfully picked out a color, trimmed and filed her nails, applied the base coat, and was on the last nail of her left hand when Clark let himself in.

“Honey, I’m home,” he singsonged unironically—the habit had started off as a joke but had turned into something more charming and wholesome somewhere in the three-ish years they’d been together. Lois had the faintest memory of her having been the one to start it as a diss on his Midwestern upbringing back before they had ever started dating.

“Good. Put the veggies in the fridge and come help me. I’m not ambidextrous.”

Clark might not blatantly use his superspeed outside of the cape, but their apartment was a notable exception. Lois felt some wind before Clark was seated in front of her with a smile.

“How can I help, my love?” he asked as a formality as he reached out to commandeer the nail polish. He dipped the little brush a few times before gently wiping the excess off on the inside of the bottle neck. Once he was satisfied, he reached out for her right hand. She held back a laugh at how he already knew what to do as she reached her hand across the table toward him.

She wasn’t going to laugh at the look of intense concentration on his face. She was sure he was partly making faces to be funny, but she also knew that his concentration was not a joke. He had shared with her, of course, how he struggled with smaller things and his strength not mixing well. Of course, growing up with superpowers had certainly helped him adjust, and similar things took a whole lot less concentration now; but like most men, he wasn’t very experienced with nail polish and the small bottle and brush that felt clumsy in her own, much more experienced hands would undoubtably be somewhat of a challenge for him, as ironic as that seemed.

When she had first figured out he was Superman, she had been annoyed at his continuous displays of clumsiness. It wasn’t until after he knew that she knew that he was Superman, and they’d become comfortable with the fact she knew, that she asked him about it. And Lois had never been more grateful that she’d actually phrased that politely instead of point-blank asking him to be less clumsy. Because he’d looked so defeated when he admitted the clumsiness was a side effect of superstrength—he was constantly underestimating how much strength it took to lift some things and would wind up dropping things because they fell out of his slack grip. But underestimating was far better, in his opinion, than overestimating because it was a lot easier to explain mishaps with “oh, I’m so clumsy sometimes” than it was to try and explain why the ceramic mug of coffee had suddenly pulverized in his hand.

Knowing that, and his accompanying insecurities, is why she didn’t laugh at the look of intense concentration on his face. She instead found it endearing and touching. It was hard for him sometimes, but for her, he would try. Clark, the nerd that he is, would probably quote Yoda at her and say something like, “I do my best for you, dear. After all, 'do, or do not, there is no try.'”

Her husband broke her out of her thoughts as he suddenly straightened in his chair and beamed at her. Whichever Justice Leaguer had said Clark had a sun-smile had been dead on. That perfect goofy smile definitely had the power of the sun behind it, it was so blinding. She loved that smile so much; it was so honest and full of affection, very Clark in the best way possible.

She huffed a slight laugh at how silly he was being at the present and looked down at the hand he was still holding loosely. She extended her fingers to examine his paint job. He had actually done a really good job. A lot better than the first time she’d made him to it. Significant improvement. Suspiciously significant improvement.

“Have you been practicing?” Lois asked, completely astonished. “Because this is so much better than the last time you did this.” She paused for only a half second before she added, “This is so good, Clark, like actually.”

She looked back up just in time for her to see his smile widen to show his sharp teeth—that signaled a true, deep smile that he only ever showed in the company of those he really loved.

“I have been practicing,” he admitted proudly. “Bruce was kind enough to share his daughter, Cassandra, and his pseudo-daughter, Stephanie, for me to practice on. They were very helpful for me to figure out the ‘proper techniques’ and whatnot.”

“And you wonder why they call you ‘Uncle Clark,’” Lois mocked with a grin on her face. This man never stopped surprising her in the best of ways.

“Ah, no, not anymore, at least,” Clark laughed. “I’ve long accepted my station in the Batfamily. I’m just very honored to be considered a part of it.” Clark had capped the polish so that he could bring his, now free, hand to his chest just over his heart. He also closed his eyes in mock reverence, making a good show of being deeply touched.

“Uh huh. Sure, you are,” Lois prodded.

Clark didn’t lift his head from the slight bow it was in, so when his eyes shot open and a devilish grin split his face, he looked exceptionally mischievous. “Yeah, no, you’re right. Being ‘Uncle Clark’ to Bruce’s kids just proves he can’t claim I’m not his best friend, since, you know, his kids are saying I’m his brother.” Clark resumed a normal posture and had a soft look on his face. “And really, that’s better than ‘best friend,’” he finished with a small shrug.

They sat there smiling at each other for a brief moment before Lois asked, “How many times did you paint their nails?”

Clark about wheezed a laugh. “Honestly, more times than I needed to to feel like I actually had the swing of this, but I’m always happy to bond with my ‘nieces,’ especially if I get some extra practice out of it. They had me learning how to do designs and everything. Although, I am terrible at anything but polka dots and flowers… and I mean the dotted flowers. The lines and shapes are too advanced for me right now.”

Clark always talked with his hands. And true to form, his right hand was waving and flapping as he gesticulated to emphasize his point. However, his left hand was still gently holding her right. It was the little things that he did, like this, that she adored.

“Well,” Lois laughed slightly, enthused by his passion, “I don’t need anything fancy. Just simple color.”

Clark demonstrated a man nod right as he said, “That I can definitely do.” He released her right hand and redipped the brush just as he had before he painted the first coat. “Now, gimme your other hand. Time for the second coat.”

Lois giggled softly as she placed her left hand in his. She watched him work, this time. She was impressed at how methodical he had gotten. While he was lasered in on what he was doing, there was a delicate grace to his movements where clumsy, jerky motions had been the last time he had done her nails. Leave it to her husband to master something so material as painting her nails. It was so girl-dad coded of him. Too bad, really, that she was convinced they were having a boy.

They bantered a little as Clark worked his way through the second and then third coating before he finished with a topcoat. Lois loved that she didn’t even have to ask Clark to use the clear topcoat, he just fished it out of the makeup bag she kept her modest selection of colors in.

Lois was sure she was overdoing it when she looked up at him through her lashes and batted them as she asked if he would do her toes, too.

He had laughed, a deep, rich laugh, and replied that Cass and Steph had taught him what they did at actual salons. And it had taken everything in her to not laugh out loud as he excitedly organized a little area on the couch for him to access her toes easier. He grabbed a towel and laid it down in front of the couch, placed some pillows for her comfort, poured some grape juice in a wine glass for her to pretend, and set out all the things he would need beside the towel. He then took her hand and helped her out of her seat at the table and walked her, arm-in-arm, to the couch where he made sure she was comfortable before handing her the wine glass.

“Alright, my love, same thing as your hands?” he asked, already pulling the nail trimmers out of the line he’d organized on the edge of the towel.

She sipped her grape juice and nodded. “Yes, the same.”

“And you do want shorter, yes?” he asked, motioning with the hand holding the clippers.

She nodded again and he got to work. She was mildly impressed that he was so precise with the clippers that he didn’t really need to use the filer. She didn’t really know how she felt about the idea that he probably used his microscopic vision to clip her toenails so precisely but ultimately decided he was her husband and had seen more intimate and embarrassing things already.

She was busy contemplating that line of thought and missed him apply the base coat and the first layer of color. He yet again broke her out of her reverie when he gently squeezed her foot to get her attention. When he realized he had it, he asked her what she thought so far.

"Oh, sorry, I zoned out there,” Lois rambled as she looked down at the foot he was holding. She melted as she realized he had done as fantastic a job as he had with her hands. “That looks great, babe. Thank you, so much.”

Clark leaned forward and kissed her knee. “Of course. Anything for you.” And the damn man had the audacity to begin applying the second coat as if that hadn’t just melted her entirely. She was nothing but a Lois-shaped puddle on their couch.

She sipped her grape juice and watched him work. It almost seemed like he had more practice on toes than he did on fingers, which was odd. But he was flying through the second and third coat faster than he had on her hands.

“You seem to be faster at toes,” she mentioned.

Clark chuckled, tucking the polish away and retrieving the topcoat from the bag. “Yeah, Barbara got in on the toe painting. So, I have a little more practice with pedis,” he answered.

“How many girls does Bruce have?” Lois asked, bewildered. She’d thought it was just Cassandra.

“Well, Cass is his only daughter. But Steph is always around and is basically his. Steph is besties with Cass and Tim, too. And Babs was the first Batgirl, you know. She’s the commissioner’s daughter but is besties with Dick and is also always around. She and Steph are B’s pseudo-kids because they might as well be, even if they aren’t legally. So, in sum, I regularly do all the Batgirls’ toes. I truly don’t know how I got conned into this business.” Clark tutted himself and shook his head in fake dismay and put the final touches on Lois’ toes.

Lois was just about to thank him again before he placed his hands on her knees to prevent her from standing. “Hey, hey, hey, we aren’t done.”

“What?” Lois laughed, falling back into the reclined position she’d been in.

Clark brandished a bottle of lotion. “The girls say there’s always massages. Or I’ve been conned worse than I thought.”

Lois laughed. “No, no. They’re telling the truth. But I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

Clark kissed her other knee and opened the bottle. “Let me anyway.”

“What, did our nieces tell you exactly how to butter me up, or something?”

Clark laughed, cheeks turning pink from joy. “They said it might help me out of the doghouse. But I don’t think it needs to be used so sparingly. What if I just want to treat my wife? Lord knows she deserves it.” Clark had placed his chin on her knee and was looking up at her with the most adorable expression on his face.

She reached a hand out and ran her fingers through his curls. “You can do whatever you want, sweetheart. You can report back to the girls that they do know what they’re talking about. This just might get you places.”

Clark blinked. “I’m not trying to get places.”

Lois played with the curls on the back of his neck. “I know. But all actions have consequences, even accidental ones.”

Clark’s cheeks reddened. “Happy accident, then,” he murmured.

“Yes,” Lois hummed in agreement.

She was going to have to treat Bruce’s girls to something because they’d trained her husband well. And he really did have magic hands, the way he expertly massaged her legs and feet. Her swollen ankles more than needed this treatment. And that, Lois suspected, was the real reason Clark insisted on massaging her. She wasn’t going to say anything, though.

“Mmm, a facial would be nice,” Lois thought out loud, thinking of ways she could treat the girls.

“I can do that,” Clark mumbled sweetly.

“What?” Lois asked, pulling her head up from where it had fallen to rest against the back of the couch.

“Give you a facial,” Clark clarified his offer.

“I—” Lois trailed off. She wouldn’t say no, but what would that look like? “You know how to do that?”

Clark nodded, cheeky grin on his face. “Steph made sure I knew how to do that, too. She also told me I should learn your face routine so that I could help you if you were too tired to do it yourself.” Clark knitted his brows together in confusion before he continued. “She said it was something good TikTok boyfriends do? Which was strange because I am your husband and also not an influencer. But it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.”

“At this point I think Stephanie might be using you to demonstrate how someone else should act for her,” Lois hypothesized.

“Honestly? From what Bruce has told me about her relationship with her father, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well, don’t let me stop her. You should follow her advice and be sure to tell her how much I appreciate it. Since she’s improving my man, and all.”

“Funny,” Clark deadpanned in response to her last statement. “I’ll be sure to inform her.”

As it turned out, Stephanie was a great teacher. Clark gave her a really good facial. He also braided her hair. He had done so wordlessly, leading Lois to believe he was just playing with her hair like she often did to him. Until he asked for a hair tie. He hadn’t done anything fancy, just drew her hair out of her face and off her neck, but he did a good job. It looked like a gentle braid, and not like braided rope. Honestly, he actually did better than she did on her own hair. She’d have to keep these new skills of his in mind for the future.

Chapter Text

Lois loved dolling herself and looking drop dead gorgeous on date nights. And Clark loved treating her to the nice dinner places and he was a man with functioning eyes, he enjoyed the view she gave him.

Clark loved whisking Lois away for a cruise above Metropolis, blanketed by the clouds with the stars shining above them. And Lois loved it when he took her breath away as he showed her his favorite views of their world.

But fancy or breathlessly beautiful dates weren’t what they did all the time. If that was true, the awe factor would have worn off quickly.

They had plenty of just as amazing dates when they stayed over at each other’s apartments and ate takeout while watching movies. They also enjoyed meeting up with some friends and playing high intensity, nothing held back relaxing card and board games.

But there were also the moments where they were just enjoying each other’s presence. “Vibe dates,” as Clark jokingly dubbed them, were just as important to them as anything else. And they didn’t take any energy, just aligning schedules, so they happened much more frequently. Was it really a date when they were just leaning on each other on the bed or the couch while scrolling on their phones? No, definitely not. But it was still quality time spent together, especially since Clark would giggle every five seconds and show her the meme he had found funny that time. Seriously, Lois could barely scroll through her own phone at the rate she looked up to see his phone. Stupid superspeed reading. She couldn’t keep up with his pace.

Of course, she shared the occasional meme or post, too. Though she usually read hers aloud than turn her phone for him to see.

She huffed a laugh at one of the inspiration girl quotes that popped up on her feed. It was not an account she followed but did occasionally flip through when it showed up on her fyp.

Clark hummed inquisitively despite his eyes remaining glued to his own screen.

She shrugged against him. The post read: “ask your partner to describe him/herself in one word. Have that homie answer questions like a job interview 😂😂😂.”

The post description said, “It’s scientifically proven to be good for laughs.”

So, she figured why not? and tried it. “Describe yourself in one word,” she politely demanded of Clark.  

Clark didn’t miss a beat. He hummed at the request as if he knew he had a good answer and murmured “Yours” in an incredibly husky voice especially since he had just been giggling like a little girl twenty seconds earlier.

Lois looked up at him incredulously. She was slightly slack jawed, and her eyes were wide. “Good for laughs” the post had said. “RIP her heart” is more like it. That was the most adorable answer ever. He hadn’t even stopped to think about it, either.

He kept his eyes on his phone until he realized she was staring at him. He slowly dropped his phone and turned to meet her gaze. He let an ardent grin slowly spread across his face.

He looked as though he was going to saucily ask “what?” so, she interrupted him with a kiss to his cheek before he could.

“That’s so cute. I thought you were going to say ‘sunny’ or something like that.”

Clark laughed, returning her kiss but on her lips instead of her cheek. “That works, too,” he agreed. “I am a sunny boi.”

Lois slapped his chest playfully. “You’re too much!”

Clark continued to chuckle sweetly, low and deep in his chest. “I’m your sunny boi,” he purred, making her insides turn to jelly.

She had to shut him up. She couldn’t stand much more of this squishiness. So, she did the most reasonable thing she could have: she grabbed him by the back of the head and brought her lips to his. It was maybe more passionate than it needed to be, but she accomplished what she set out to do… and then some.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, Miss, I can’t let you past this line,” the young officer stated, blockading the way.

“You don’t understand, officer,” Lois argued, trying to keep her tone polite. “We are press. You can let us through.”

The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss,” he repeated. “They said no one gets through, no exceptions.”

“But we’re press! The people have a right to know,” Lois insisted. She was dangerously close to getting handsy with the officer. She was already in his face.

“I’m sure they’ll release a statement, Ma’am.”

“A statement?” Lois repeated. “Now, listen here—!”

Clark chose that moment to intercede. He grabbed Lois’ shoulders gently and tugged her back into his chest. The motion seemed to surprise her enough to get her to shut up and not fight him.

“That’s alright. Thank you for doing your job,” Clark offered, trying to apologize for Lois without directly saying such. He didn’t want her to turn her anger on him, after all. Turning to Lois, or rather, tilting his head down so he could look at her, he said, “C’mon, Lo. There’s nothing else for us to do here.”

Lois huffed a breath in frustration and turned sharply on her heel, breaking herself out of Clark’s lax hold. “Fine. Come on, then, Smallville.”

Smallville. That was a good sign. He would be in trouble if she’d used his actual name.

That said, the taxi ride back to the Daily Planet was so frosty he was feeling it despite his invulnerability.

She stayed silent until they got to their shared office.

“Can you believe that?!” Lois asked, voice loud and high-pitched. “I cannot believe that!” she continued, before Clark had a chance to answer her (rhetorical) question.

Clark just hummed lowly in response.

Lois flung her hands out in an incredulous gesture. Her purse about flew off her arm in the process. Clark gently removed it from its current position on her upper arm.

“How dare they?!” she continued to seethe.

She’d ripped open her jacket from where she tied it earlier. She harshly tugged it open and attempted to drop it off her shoulders but the aggressive pace she used caused it to catch on her arms. She struggled with it for two seconds before Clark, having placed the purse on her desk, wordlessly helped slide the sleeves off her arms.

“I’m going to call—”

“Maybe I should call,” Clark offered, speaking up for the first time since they’d gotten back to the Planet. “I might get a little farther.”

She spun around to face him. So much for avoiding her wrath.

“You might get farther?” she repeated in a hiss.

Clark didn’t budge. “Yeah,” he agreed, arching a brow as if to challenge her to prove him wrong. “I can ask for a statement and see what we get.”

Lois’ jaw audibly clicked shut. She crashed into her chair, back ramrod straight. “Sure. Sure, Clark. You go right on ahead. Call them.”

Ah. She’d called him Clark. He was sleeping on the couch tonight.

Oh well.

He did get a statement, at least.

“The world is ending,” Lois cried as she flopped onto the couch.

Clark whipped his head to face her, pausing his efforts to hang up their winter coats. “What?”

“We’re done for,” she continued, mournfully, now throwing her arm over her eyes.

Clark turned back to the coat closet so he could hide his smile.

“We can kiss our dreams of Pulitzers goodbye,” she wailed.

“That’s too bad,” Clark tutted softly, just loud enough for her to hear him. He shucked his coat off his shoulders.

“It really is,” she whined. Clark heard her drop her arm to the couch with an aggressive thunk. “You’re not very worried.”

“Lois,” Clark sighed fondly, turning to face her, having finished hanging both of their coats. “Everything is fine. It’s just temporary leave. Which, by the way, is routine for people in our situation.”

“Routine! We aren’t getting paid!”

“Lois, we disappeared for two weeks.”

“For the story! And Perry was in on it the whole time!”

“Protocol is protocol, sweetheart. We knew that when we went into this,” Clark reminded gently, now having moved across their apartment and eased himself down next to her.

Lois had slumped to where she was half off the couch. Clark pulled her up and into his side. She snuggled herself closer and smooshed her cheek on his chest. “I hoped we’d do such a good job they’d skip that part,” she mumbled, voice distorted from where her face was pressed against him.

“When has that ever happened?” Clark asked softly, trying to prove a point. “Think of it as a vacation.”

“Unpaid vacation. Even better than a paid one,” she grumbled.

“Heaven forbid,” Clark sarcastically moaned. “Good thing we didn’t use anywhere close to the budget Perry gave us.”

“We didn’t?” she asked, sitting up slightly to look him in the eye.

“Nope,” Clark confirmed, popping the p. “So, we basically are still getting paid.”

“That isn’t how that works,” she groaned, flopping back down into him.

Clark chuckled. “Then think of it as bonus cash. Nobody has to know. It was given to us for us to spend.” He shrugged slightly.

Lois just groaned in indignation.

“Perry, this isn’t a story!” Lois protested sharply.

“Yes, it is, Lois,” Perry disagreed, sounding nearly chastising.

“This isn’t a story for us,” Lois elaborated.

“Why not? Somone needs to cover the contest.”

Clark was doing his very best to stay neutral in this conversation. “Is there no one else to do this story, Chief?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“No, since that bombing incident last week was concentrated in three areas where a lot of our staff lives, we’re down several hands. Sure,” Perry conceded, “This isn’t anything exciting, but right now, after all that destruction, we could use some fluffy front-page material.”

 Lois had fallen silent. Jimmy Olsen had lost his apartment in those bombings and was tied up in the fallout. And he was one example of the several people they worked alongside.

“Lois, we did already get the bombing story done. Maybe this isn’t so bad,” Clark tried. He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“Fine,” Lois muttered. “But we’re also doing a follow-up on the bombing piece. Maybe we can talk to Jimmy and Steve about it, since they lost their places.”

“Sure, Lois,” Perry said through a strange noise that was a mix of a huff and a sigh. “Include the angle about the generous offer from the Wayne Hotels that provided the victims free stays until they can find somewhere else to live.”

“And Wayne Enterprises’ and Queen Industries’ collaboration for reconstruction,” Clark added.

Lois hmphed in satisfaction at having gained some ground and turned on her heel to leave Perry’s office. “C’mon, Smallville, we have two stories to work.”

Clark was… well, he wasn’t an unhappy camper because he always loved spending time with Lois, especially outside of work, but he certainly didn’t want to be in a dress store with her.

“What about this one?” Lois asked. And Clark knew she wasn’t really asking his opinion because she was eyeing her reflection hyper critically.

Clark had thought she looked amazing in all the twelve dresses she’d tried on so far. This one was no exception. So, he mumbled a “You look great honey,” as he gazed at her.

He hadn’t moved from his slumped position in the single chair that was provided in the mirrored area of the dressing room. His voice was slightly stilted due to the way he was resting his face in his hand. His posture suggested he was bored to tears. This was incredibly accurate.

Lois spun around to see her other side, smoothing her hands down the front of the dress. “I don’t know…” she trailed off, thinking. “I don’t think I like how frilly this one is.” She turned around to face him.

He still didn’t budge from his slumped position. He’d not sat up straight five dresses ago.

“What do you actually think?” she asked. “Be honest.”

“You really do look good in it,” he started, but continued since he knew exactly what she meant. “But it’s not really your color. And you’re right. Frills aren’t your style, either.”

He been surprised when she’d picked it off the rack. It was a pastel pink color, which was a far cry from what Lois normally chose, but if she wanted to be a little girlier than she usually was, he wasn’t going to stop her. Whatever made her happy.

“Yeah, I really think I just wanted to try it on. See how I looked in pink. It’s too light for me, though. Doesn’t go good with my skin tone. I’d need to get a spray tan.” She’d looked back at her reflection, so she missed him roll his eyes.

“You haven’t tried on that burgundy one yet,” Clark mentioned.

She hummed. “No, I was saving that for last.”

“Why?” He dreaded her answer.

“Because I think that’s the one I am going to go with and I wanna try on the others just in case.”

Clark slumped further into the chair as she stepped off the raised platform and returned to the changing room.

“Two more, Clark! Then the burgundy one,” she called. “You’re doing so good!”

Clark grumbled. He wasn’t doing anything. How could he be doing good?

The next dress she put on was a beautiful yellow, almost gold. It was form fitting and accentuated her curves perfectly. It had Clark sitting up straight for the first time in a while. “Wow.”

Lois giggled and did a twirl. “You like?”

Clark swallowed and nodded. “It looked really different on the hanger.”

Lois laughed. “That’s why you try things on, silly. Most dresses look different on the hanger.”

She stepped onto the raised platform and repeated her routine appraisal. “I’d need to get it pulled a little tighter in the back. And hemmed just a little.”

“Or you could just get taller heels?” Clark asked, unsure if that was a viable solution.

“Yeah, I could. But if I’m already going to take it to be adjusted, might as well make it fit perfectly.” She turned a few more times to get more angles and then decided, “I do really like this one. Might beat the burgundy.”

She didn’t wait for him to find any words before she was gliding back to the changing room. Clark heard some grunts and huffs coming, and just before he asked if she needed help, she called him into action. 

“Clark, I’m having trouble with this zipper.”

He stood and walked over to the closed door. He knocked softly to let her know he was about to open it. The space was tight, and it was full of dresses. Clark immediately got a little claustrophobic.

Lois, fortunately, immediately realized this and backed herself up to him so that he wouldn’t have to move from the doorway. He focused his attention on the little metal device and carefully dragged it up. He noticed a little metal clasp at the top, too, and fumbled with that for a moment before he got it.

Lois spun around and threaded her arm through his and marched him away from the small room. After they were back in the mirrored area, she let him go and stepped back onto the podium.

That’s when he finally took in what she was wearing. This one was more of a ballgown, which would suit the gala they were going to perfectly. It was a beautiful cut. The dress was black with some delicate traces of gray on the bodice. There was a sleeved shawl thing—Clark didn’t know what it was actually called—that she held in her hands. After inspecting herself some, she carefully tugged it on. And it made the dress that much more incredible. It added a high collar and accentuated her neckline and collar bones.

Lois smiled when she saw Clark’s reflection. He looked like he wanted to leave bite marks on the open skin. She was definitely buying this dress. She wanted to be entirely irresistible to him.

“Okay,” she said simply, causing Clark to blink. “Off to the last one.” She grabbed Clark’s hand and tugged him back to the dressing room. Before she stepped inside, she removed the sleeved top and turned her back to him. “Would you be so kind?” she asked, mostly to get him to snap out of the daze he seemed to be stuck in.

He reached his hands up and lightly traced her shoulders and upper back before finding his way to the clasp and the zipper. As he slowly tugged the zipper lower, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck. He placed a gentle kiss there.

This dress was dangerous for him. She loved it.

But she wouldn’t push him too much, not in the store, at least.

She turned around when he’d finally unzipped her. His head was still ducked low, so she didn’t have to reach to press her lips to his cheek. “One more,” she whispered into his skin. “Then we can go.”

Clark just nodded.

By the time she opened the door with the final dress on, Clark had found his way back to the chair. Upon realizing she was out of the changing room, he sat up a little straighter and shook his head slightly to clear it.

She smiled at the sight and strutted to the podium. She had been right about this dress. It was amazing. Clark’s reaction said as much, too, even if this dress didn’t have him as hungry as the last one had.

Just like the yellow dress, she’d have to get this one tailored a little bit. And she should bring the black one with them, too, just in case. She hadn’t really looked all that closely to it as she’d been too distracted by Clark’s reaction.

Was she being a little extra buying three dresses? Yes. But really, she had tried on fifteen dresses. So, three wasn’t bad, considering her selection. Besides, she would need more dresses for later dates, anyway. She was just sparing Clark the boredom of a repeat experience in the near future.

He had been so patient. He hadn’t complained—verbally, at least. His posture had said otherwise—and she appreciated his feedback. She had him trained well. He would complement her endlessly, but he was also always honest in his reviews. Clark would probably think she’d look beautiful in a trash bag, if she was being honest. But he would probably tell her that the trash bag certainly challenged social norms. Lois giggled at the thought. Nothing beat a well-trained man who thought she looked to die for in anything.

Lois loved to wear the extravagant dresses. She loved dressing up for big events. She was dramatic like that.

Clark was a simple man. And as much as he loved seeing her all dolled up and positively gorgeous, he would probably enjoy it more if she was wearing a good pair of jeans and a well-worn hoodie.

He kept the pressure off her that way, she supposed. And his simplicity balanced her extravagance.

But every now and then, she found something, like the black gown, that had him go positively feral. She especially loved those moments because they were so rare for him. It tickled something inside her, made her feel extra special that she could break his steel resolve.

He was always the perfect gentleman, though. And she loved that about him the most.

Bonus: flipped roles.

“Lois!”

She looked up from her computer screen, her typing paused. It wasn’t often Clark raised his voice, Lois thought. Sure, she was in the dining room, typing away at her computer, and he had been in the bedroom. But they had a small apartment. He really didn’t need to yell. But there had been pure excitement in his tone. So, he hadn’t been yelling to be heard, he’d been yelling because he was amped up.

“Lois!” he called again. This time, Lois heard a distinct thunk that sounded suspiciously like Clark had fallen out of bed. It was accompanied by a muffled “Oof!” which confirmed her theory.

For a man who could fly, he sure did that a lot.

“Lois!” Clark had finally appeared in the doorway of their bedroom.

“Yes?” Lois asked, looking him in the eye after giving him a quick, if entirely unnecessary, once over to make sure he was okay.

Clark wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were locked on his phone. “I can’t believe this. You gotta see, Lois.” He didn’t quite superspeed to her side, but he also didn’t move at a human pace. He bent down to be almost level with her. He was hovering just over her shoulder as he held his arm out so she could see the screen of his phone. “Twentieth year anniversary re-release!”

She looked at the movie poster he was showing her. “Okay…?”

“We have to go see it!” He was very enthusiastic about it; his words were spoken almost too fast for her to understand.

“You’re such a nerd,” Lois laughed.

“Lois, c’mon! Please! It’ll be fun!” he insisted. He’d thrown an arm around her shoulder and was pressing into her in his excitement. “I was too little to see this in theaters when it came out! I wanna go see it!”

“You can’t take Bruce or Diana or somebody?”

“Bruce doesn’t do movie theaters.” Right. Lois felt a little stupid at forgetting that. “And Diana wouldn’t understand it. I’d have to watch all the other movies with her. Which I would do, but not as a marathon.”

“What about Jimmy?”

“But I wanna go with you,” he pouted, dropping his chin to her shoulder opposite the one he was hugging.

Lois risked a glance at him. Yep. His puppy dog eyes were out. “Ugh, fine, Smallville. But don’t expect me to cosplay or anything.”

Clark kissed her cheek. “Thank you!” He kissed her again. “And no, I wasn’t going to cosplay. I might wear my cloak… but no. No cosplay required.” He kissed her cheek a third time and mentioned offhand that he’d buy the tickets in advance.

He was so excited about it that he couldn’t help but do a silly dance back into the bedroom. Lois had seen that right as she’d taken a sip of her water. It came back out her nose she laughed so hard. Fortunately, the spray hadn’t been aimed toward her laptop.

Clark had fallen to the floor in his own laughter at her expense and was now starfished across the floor, wheezing and cackling. “N-n-no way di-did you do tha-a-at-ttt,” Clark managed through laughs.

“Y-you are going to clean that up,” Lois declared, making Clark wheeze again.

“I am?” he asked, impishly.

“Yeah, it’s your fault,” she said, matter-of-factly, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t make you laugh,” he argued playfully.

“Yes, you did!” Her voice rose in pitch in her insistence. “That silly little dance you did ripped it right out of me!”

Clark had been recovering from his laughing fit. Then she said that. And he collapsed back to the floor with a roar of laughter.

“Entirely your fault!” Lois insisted over his chuckles.

“Okay, okay,” Clark conceded. “I’ll clean it up.”

And two seconds later, the water was all wiped up and Clark was kneeling in front of her, goofy smile on his face.

“Since, you know, I have superspeed and all.”

She brushed his bangs back, fingers briefly getting tangled in his curls. “And all. You’re such a dork.”

His grin widened, eyes crinkling. “Mhm. But you knew that well before we got together.”

“I did,” she confirmed.

His eyes softened. He reached up to cup her face. “I love you,” he murmured.

Her hand fell to play with the curls at the back of his neck. “I love you, too,” she returned.

He straightened up so he could meet her lips with his. 

Chapter Text

“That intro message was so sweet,” Clark whispered to Lois right as the screen darkened.

“Why?” Lois was very confused. Sure, she’d seen the movies before, but she wasn’t a superfan like her husband.

“Hayden got a lot of hate about these movies twenty years ago,” Clark explained. “He’s admitted to being emotional about the support he’s received from the fans my age. You know, the people who love him as Anakin.”

“Okay, shush, the movie’s starting,” Lois whispered, motioning with her hands to get him to cool his jets.

She wasn’t quite expecting the Star Wars logo to pop up on screen with a blast of trumpets. She didn’t make a sound, thank God, but she did flinch aggressively.

Clark hadn’t seen it. He was completely enthralled by the big screen.

She smiled at his dorkiness and got comfortable in her chair, leaning her head on his shoulder. He mindlessly wrapped an arm around her.

She wasn’t too invested in the movie. What did entertain her is how Clark hummed along to the music and said all the lines. He knew every word of them. Of course he did, Mr. Perfect Memory, who had a Ph.D. in Total Nerd Sciences. He did voices, too.

This was a common theme amongst the other people in the theater. And there were nerds even more hardcore than Clark. He’d not cosplayed, like many of the other fans here. He’d dressed in all his Star Wars merch, though. His t-shirt had one of the movie posters on it, his shorts had what he called the Imperial logo on the hem, his socks were stormtrooper themed, and his jacket was inspired by Artoo Detoo, apparently. He hadn’t been able to find his Darth Vader ballcap before they had to leave, though. A shame.

Oh! She couldn’t forget his custom Jedi themed Air Forces. Those were actually very cool, she had to admit.

To support her husband, and to not be entirely out of place amongst the nerds here, Lois had also worn a Star Wars tee. It was just the main logo, though, on a solid blue shirt.

She enjoyed the movie. Mostly because she was getting to see a side of Clark that was so special to her. She hugged him tighter for that reason. Definitely not to hide her tears when Anakin fell to the dark side in a desperate attempt to save his wife. And she definitely didn’t wipe her eyes on his shoulder to hide more tears when Obi-Wan poured his heart out to Darth Vader right before Vader burst into flames. Clark wasn’t crying, so she definitely couldn’t be either!

To stop the tears that she definitely wasn’t producing, she desperately tried to focus on Clark and the voices he was doing alongside the dialogue. He was even getting the correct emotions in his tone. She really shouldn’t have been surprised by that. He was that much of a fan. And he had a good ear.

When the movie ended on a hopeful note and the credits’ theme trumpeted through the room, Clark hugged Lois a little tighter in a sort of celebration.

“That was awesome!” he cheered before he placed a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks for coming with me, honey.”

Lois hummed, squeezing into him tighter in return. “Sure. I ended up having fun, after all.”

“See, I knew you would,” Clark beamed as he released her so they could get up to leave.

He was positively giddy the entire way home. They stopped at a little Asian hole-in-the-wall store that they adored to collect takeout. At some point, Clark called his dad to nerd out with him. Lois laughed at that. If they ever had a son, she certainly hoped he would nerd out with his father, too. She tried to tune in to what Clark was talking about, but it was as if they were speaking in a foreign language.

After Clark ended the call, right as they were unlocking their apartment door, she mentioned as much.

She was almost scared of the gleam Clark’s eyes got when she did. In hindsight, she should have been scared.

“Well, we’ll just have to do something about that, then,” he’d replied, his tone scheming.

“I am not learning Star Wars-ese!”

Clark barked a laugh. “Oh, c’mon. I can finally educate Diana, too. It’ll be fun, just like the movie! And you can learn all the background stuff that makes it even more emotional!”

Lois had no idea what she’d gotten herself into.

Diana hadn’t been hard to convince. Lois had said she would only “learn Star Wars” if Diana did it with her. Diana needed no more encouragement than that.

She didn’t have many friends, being an immortal warrior princess. Bruce and Clark were her closest friends. She had Steve, too. But Lois was a sister who held a special place in Diana’s heart. Lois reminded her so much of her fellow Amazonian sisters. It had thrown her off, at first, how Amazonian Lois had seemed. Diana had immediately decided that Lois was a perfect fit for Clark. Something that had been proven more and more correct every time she saw them interact and every time Diana spent any amount of time with Lois.

So, Diana wasn’t hard to convince. She loved spending time with Clark. And she especially loved spending time with Lois, as it happened far too infrequently. She also loved making fun of Clark, and Lois was the perfect partner in crime. And they were going to be given the perfect source material.

Besides, this gave Diana an excuse to learn more about modern culture, something she sometimes struggled to keep up with, especially as it related to ‘in’ movies and music and what not. To be fair, this subject was incredibly broad and very opinionated, so she really couldn’t be wrong. But this provided the opportunity for her to become more well-rounded.

Due to their very busy schedules, and the sheer magnitude of everything Clark was determined to subject them to, they couldn’t do a marathon. They settled on finding a semi-regular date where they would meet up to binge as much as they could.

It happened surprisingly more frequently than they would have thought.

Diana and Lois had both thought that this was prime material to make fun of Clark with. And they got a lot of mileage out of the first two movies.

Clark had provided them the choice to go in order of release or chronological. They, being the uneducated souls they were, chose to go chronologically.

If they had chosen to go by release date, they would have gotten six movies to make fun of Clark with.

But they’d chosen chronological. And after Clark sat them through The Clone Wars animated series, they couldn’t make fun of him since they were running down the path he’d already been on for many years.

Many tears were shared. Many things were learned.

They hadn’t expected to fall in love with Star Wars. But they’d been even more surprised to learn about the books. There were so many.

Clark didn’t have them read them all. But he did have them read the books that added crucial background information. For example, Labyrinth of Evil was read before they watched Revenge of the Sith, and Dark Disciple was read before they watched Tales of the Underworld.

Clark promised to make them read the other books. He said they weren’t crucial to add emotional damage to the movies, but that they definitely filled in some gaps, or were just good reads. For example, he said they would have to read the Revenge of the Sith novel, despite having seen the movie, because books were always better than the movies and the novel added so much more to the movie. Apparently, it made Anakin’s fall so much more tragic. Which Lois didn’t need, since she’d cried before even knowing much about his character when she’d seen the movie in theaters.

That said, Clark didn’t actually have to make them read anything, since they were eating up everything he laid before them.

He was the Jedi Master, and they were his eager padawan learners. And he was doing an excellent job of sharing his wisdom and experience.

They’d not watched everything perfectly in order, since Andor season two was still airing as they went. But Clark hadn’t been willing to wait. He claimed Star Wars released out of order for fans anyway, so it wasn’t a huge deal if they just circled back to it.

Since Rogue One was essentially Andor season three, Clark had patiently explained that Rogue One was also basically episode 3.9, leading right into A New Hope. He then gave them the option to skip Rogue One to watch it after Andor had its season two finale, or to rewatch the movie after the Andor finale.

They chose to rewatch Rogue One. Which they would never regret, since it was a beautiful movie.

Through the months they marched down this path, Diana and Lois were constantly collecting Star Wars merch. They got clothes—they adored the Her Universe line—and jewelry—Pandora had a surprisingly line, but they weren’t above the cheap Claire’s versions either—and Squishmallows.

Clark, of course, stole Lois’ Artoo Squishmallow.

“I didn’t steal it, Lois!” he protested, every time he was accused. “We live together! Just because I snuggle it at night—!”

The Star Wars Epic Tour Air Force 1s he got her as an apology made up for the theft.

And they made Diana a little jealous. Though she didn’t complain, since Lois was Clark’s wife, and just asked him for the link.

They even researched the Star Wars Celebration, to be held in L.A. in 2027, and began making tentative plans for attending.

Clark said if they went, they had to cosplay. So, they started brainstorming all their costumes for the days they planned to go.

They didn’t put too much planning into it, since it was two years away, but it was definitely something they would be looking forward to.

It hadn’t taken Clark very long to find the joint AO3 account Lois and Diana had started to write Star Wars: What If stories. He was upset they hadn’t included him in their efforts since the beginning.

Pretty soon they had several stories that were racking up the kudos. Which was about to be expected since there were two Pulitzer winning journalists, two nerds with near perfect memories, and one fine grammar police with super speed-reading capabilities on the writing team. All that to say, they knew what they were writing about, and they had truly captivating storytelling abilities.

Eventually, after research on the best product, they all bought fancy lightsabers. And of course, they would meet up at the Kent farm to have lightsaber battles. They’d figured out sunset and dusk were the most cinematic times to enjoy the vibe of a good duel.

Not to mention that Diana was a trained swordswoman. She’d taught Clark a little through their time in the justice league and this provided the opportunity to teach him even more. Lois sure soaked up the lessons, as well. In this, Diana was the Jedi Master and Lois and Clark were the eager apprentices.

And for Lois, a husband and friend that could fly meant Lois had a field day ‘using the Force’ to throw her opponents. Clark and Diana would use this ability on each other, as well, but Lois sure had more fun with it.

And sometimes, every now and then, Pa Kent would appear to enjoy the show, since he was the fan that started it all.

Chapter Text

“Okay, Smallville, listen here,” Lois demanded, slamming her hands on Clark’s desk almost as if to emphasize her point, if she hadn’t done it simply to get his attention with her usual dramatic flair.

Clark immediately lifted his gaze to meet hers, pretty eyes wide but not because he was surprised. No, the humored expression on his handsome face said he was far from surprised but in fact incredibly fond of her rather predictable behavior.

“Yes, Lois,” Clark managed to squeeze in before Lois started talking again.

“So, we have the story on the attempted bank robbery nearly all wrapped up. Just have to tighten the strings a little to complete the bow.” Clark tapped his keyboard to signal that was exactly what he was working on. “Perfect. Then, we have the nuclear power plant story. It failed three checks and is being bought out by a different company in hopes that they can rewire the guts so that it can pass a safety check for once and become operational. We want that to happen because that’s taxpayer dollars funding that and we want cleaner energy for cheaper. That one doesn’t really have any investigating needed, but Perry wants our angle, and we need to go interview some people to collect some quotes and data for the piece.” Lois paused her spiel briefly to take a sip of Clark’s coffee. She took a big gulp and made a face as she swallowed. “Ew, seriously, Kansas? You actually drink your coffee black? Bleh. Anyway, because two pieces wasn’t enough, we also have the key to the city piece. Who’s getting it this year? Eh, that’s not important right now. Just like the nuclear power plant piece, we don’t need to investigate but we do need to do a little asking around, collect the people’s opinion, yada yada, so on and so forth. And now,” Lois slammed one of her hands on the desk again for emphasis this time, “Our most recently assigned piece, as of,” Lois checked her watch, “twelve minutes ago, is the Wayne Hotel piece. Apparently, he’s building a hotel just to piss off Lex Luthor—Wayne is a king for that—and it’s going to be the biggest and best hotel in Metropolis. I think Wayne might be trying to start a one-up war with Lex just to give the people of Metropolis something better, and I am here for it. And if we get to watch someone fuck with Luthor, well, that’s even better!” Lois huffed, having ran through all that really fast, even for her. “Got all that?”

Clark tapped his pencil eraser on the notepad he’d been jotting notes down on. “I am almost done with the attempted bank robbery piece so we can check that off our list soon. Just dotting the t’s and crossing the i’s there. The nuclear power plant piece needs to cover how we want the new people to redo it so it’ll pass inspection because that’ll get us taxpayers cheaper clean energy. Then, we have the key of the city piece, where we have to collect opinions on our fine champion. Finally, our newest story is the Wayne Hotel bit on where we,” Clark gestured with his pencil to himself and Lois, “get to see how Metropolis is being treated to a billionaire battle but write about how we’re getting a nice, fancy hotel that’s bigger than all the other ones we already have.” Clark sat back in his seat. “That about sums it up.” He suddenly shot forward, “Oh! And you don’t like how I take my coffee.”

“You are a menace for that coffee.”

“A menace? Me? For drinking it how it comes? Wow.”

He took a nice, long sip of his coffee as if to spite her. And honestly, he probably was, but she couldn’t really get miffed about it because she was a bit distracted by the way he was looking at her. He was looking up at her just under the rims of his glasses—if he didn’t wear them, he’d be looking up at her through his lashes. She supposed he still was, but the effect was slighted due to the glasses—and he wore a sly grin that was barely peeking out over the rim of the coffee mug.

“Yes, it is so gross and boring! And how am I supposed to steal your drinks if they’re that nasty?”

“Oh, man, that almost sounds like it isn’t my problem,” Clark remarked, sarcasm offset by the cheeky wink and wide smirk he shot her.

“You know what,” Lois huffed. She pointedly grabbed his coffee and took a large sip. She didn’t let herself taste it. “I’m not gonna let that stop me. Honestly, it’s healthier this way.”

Clark was looking at her with an incredulous and amused expression. He had a wide smile tugging at his full lips.

“Okay, okay,” Lois tried to ignore the cheesy look Clark was giving her.

They had met up for movie night. Lois was wondering if this was technically or a date or not—she and Clark had officially gone out twice that week. Clark was curled up on her couch; Lois tried to ignore the way he made the couch look so small, but that was beside the point. He was stuffed into the corner of the couch and had two pillows flanking him, one on the arm of the couch and one pressed against the back of the couch. He also had two blankets wrapped around himself. And he was holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate in both of his hands as if he was freezing. The steam was fogging his glasses.

There he sat, legs tucked up underneath him, looking up at her with the most childishly expectant look a man could probably offer, if Lois had to guess.

“Don’t give me that look; I’m not gonna share the world’s biggest secret or anything; I’m going on a movie rant.”

Clark just blinked at her and smiled a little bit wider as if to say Okay, and?

And honestly… “Okay, that’s fair. I have listened to you nerd out several times. I guess it’s my turn.”

Clark nodded enthusiastically and shifted himself as if he was getting even more cozy.

“Alright, so, have you read the Lord of the Rings books?”

Clark nodded, his expression twisting into a fond, Of course, I have.

“Right, okay, good. You passed a test. We couldn’t have been able to keep being friends,” she didn’t say or anything more, but Clark was a smart man, and it was unnecessary in this context, “if you had said no.” She paused to catch her breath and to stand up at the tv like she was a professor in front of the board. “So naturally, the books are better than the movies, but these are still cinematic masterpieces. And we are going to watch the extended editions. So this will take like three days or more. And then there is the Hobbit trilogy that is a prequel…”

“The Hobbit is only one book…?” Clark mentioned in a question. His voice had been weird as he brought it up, but Lois wasn’t going to dwell on it too much… it had sounded almost like he was trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird. They extended it to a trilogy, but it doesn’t feel too stretched out. I guess maybe the Hobbit is a bigger book than the other three? Because the other three books were made into two movies each, basically, since the extended cuts are basically another movie entirely. Anyway, the premise of the movie…”

Lois continued to explain the differences of the movie versus the books as well as some nerdier details like sets and makeups and directors’ decisions that changed things and actor’s opinions that prevented directors from changing things too much, etc.  

The spiel almost out-nerded Clark’s nerdy yet loving rant about Star Wars, which Lois still hadn’t watched yet. She only spent thirty-six minutes on the topic. Clark had spent seventy-eight… and he’d actually been cut off, too.

“Okay,” she said in a deep exhale, declaring the end of her lecture. “That’s it, I think. But don’t be mad if I stop the movie to explain other things. Also, I would say sorry for telling you details you already know from the books, but I’m not, so,” Lois pursed her lips and cocked a hip sassily, making Clark laugh.

He smiled and nodded, signaling he understood and was ready to watch the movie if she was.

“Alright,” Lois breathed as she settled herself down next to Clark. He’d finished his hot chocolate sometime during her impromptu TED Talk, leaving his hands plenty free to tug her close to him. She ended up practically in his lap, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or weird at all, plus she got to comfortably and reasonably use his incredibly firm chest as a pillow. Bringing the remote up, she started the movie. “Turn that lamp off?” Lois asked of Clark.

She wanted to whine in protest as soon as he removed one hand to fulfill her request. She liked the feel of his hands on her, sure, but that urge shocked her to her core. She buried that thought just like she buried her head into Clark’s muscled front. Before the music could start to play from the tv, though, his hand was returned to her back where it had been previously. And the tv was so much easier to see when the room was dark.

That night, she paused the movie three times to cover more nerdy things. When they met up for the next movies, she recapped the previous movie and other important details and managed to pause the movies only seven times in a sum total (so ten, if you included the first movie).  

It was only after they’d watched all the movies, after Clark had patiently listened to her nerdiness, that she learned Clark had watched all the movies already—his Pa had watched them with him when he was ten, after Clark had read the books. And he’d also already known all the tidbits she shared with him.

By that point, though, Lois and Clark had been officially dating for four weeks. If that hadn’t been the case, Lois would have been embarrassed. But Clark was her loving and doting boyfriend, so really, she just felt seen and cherished.

Someone in the office once joked that Clark actually needed to listen to Lois yap for at least six hours every day otherwise he would die. Lois hadn’t thought it very funny at the time, but after this recent development, she started wondering if maybe there was some truth to that after all.

“This is unbelievable,” Lois huffed as she slammed her hands down on the breakroom table.

Clark made an inquisitory noise as he sat down at the table, joining her.

“I ask for extra pickles. What do they give me? A normal amount of pickles! This is awful. I wanted the pickles for Pete’s sake! It really shouldn’t be that hard. They are reading a sticker that tells them what to do and they somehow get it wrong? Not to mention I paid way too much for this stupid sandwich. It doesn’t even look that good!” It looked very good, actually, but since it didn’t have her desired amount of pickles, she was choosing to ignore that. “And how much lettuce does it look like I fucking need? This is ridiculous. I don’t want a stupid salad. The tomatoes are practically part of the wrapper instead of the sandwich. The cheese is the only reliable thing here, honestly. But I’m starting to think that maybe the cheese pull will go on for forever and make a mess! And—”

The entire time she’d been ranting about how pissed she was over the sandwich in front of her, Clark had been unwrapping his own. She hadn’t noticed. Nor had she noticed the way he opened his own sandwich up. But she did notice, and subsequently cut herself off, when Clark started removing his pickles and putting them on her sandwich without a word.

She was pretty sure he hadn’t asked for no pickles.

He finished putting the pickles on her sandwich and gently pressed the top slice of bread back onto it. She kissed his cheek before biting into her sandwich. She was pretty sure her eyes rolled back. “Mmmm, this is a good fucking sandwich,” she stated through a mouthful.

Clark just chuckled before starting on his lunch. He was quick to agree.

Chapter Text

It had been a good day at the office. The Kerth Nominees were announced, and both Clark and Lois had gotten nominated; granted the nominations were a package deal, since they’d shared the by-line on the story that earned it.

That was very much their norm, though. It was rare something was published by them without a Lane and Kent by-line.

They shared just about everything, at that point. At work, they shared a by-line more often than not. And even when they didn’t, they often shared notes and helped edit each other’s stories. They had gotten to a point in their careers where they had earned their own offices, but they’d elected to share an office. At the time it had made sense, because they were usually working the same beat. Now, it was also in part because they were attached at the hip. And ever since they’d been married, they practically shared each other’s desks. You could find Lois’ hair clips in Clark’s drawers, and you could find Clark’s favorite pastel sticky notes on the far side of Lois’ computer. Or sometimes Lois would have two staplers, because she’d hijacked Clark’s and hadn’t given it back. Clark’s spare glasses were kept in Lois’ drawer, not his. Lois’ allergy medicine was always on Clark’s desk, just behind his monitor. …There were more examples. Not to mention how Lois was in Clark’s chair more than she was in her own. And if he was in it, then she was perched on his knee or sometimes even completely in his lap.

How the two ever got any work done was truly a mystery.

But their habit of sharing continued at home, too. Lois couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought herself pajamas. She had long since been wearing Clark’s shirts to bed—a habit since well before they even started dating. After they’d made things official and she’d found herself over at his place more and more, she’d gone from stealing his sweatshirts and T-shirts to just flat out sharing a pajama set with him. He got the bottoms, and she got the tops. And the one time he commented on it, seeming a little put out, she mentioned they were twinning, and he’d brightened considerably and hadn’t said anything since.

Since day one of knowing Clark, really, Lois had been eating off his plate. And never wanting to waste food, she would always give Clark whatever she didn’t eat, because of course he’d finish it—Lois was convinced Clark’s stomach was a bottomless pit. He didn’t even need to eat three squares a day!

There were many more things they shared. Everyday things, like their bed and their blankets and their toothpaste and shampoo and conditioner. They shared coffee every morning in the silence of their brownstone before heading to work.

But there were things that were distinctly their own, like their body washes and their fragrances and their toothbrushes, of course. And Clark used a specific coffee mug every morning. Lois never touched it and used one of her own every morning. They had their unofficially assigned seats at the kitchen table—which had really been converted into an at home office. Of course, they had their unofficially assigned sides of the bed, too. Lois loved the darker side of the room. The further away she was from the sun, the longer she could stay in bed when they had a day off. This, naturally, suited Clark just fine, since he needed the sun more than she needed coffee.

Lois loved to joke that Clark was her walking, talking houseplant. All he needed was some sun, an occasional glass of water, and food every once in a while and he was set.

Clark would always pout and say he needed loving attention, too. And he preferred to fly, thank you very much.

But another thing they didn’t share was the people they occasionally socialized with while at work.

Lois had become a part of the ladies’ group—she had done a really good job of pretending she didn’t care about being excluded but Clark knew how excited she’d gotten when they’d finally invited her to Girl’s Night the first time—and Clark would chat with the guys.

And that’s how he ended up in the situation he was currently trying to get out of.

It had been a good day at the office. So naturally, everyone was making plans to go out drinking.

Which was never really Clark’s atmosphere. He couldn’t get drunk, and clubs and bars were always overstimulating to him. He would only go if it was a weekday thing where nowhere was as crowded and only to make sure Lois was okay (while this was true, Lois could take care of herself pretty well, so this should be read as: embarrass his wife with his—surprisingly good—dance moves).

“C’mon, Kent,” Jerry from research was attempting to peer pressure encouraging, “it’ll be fun! And you’re the nominee! Celebrate a little!” He wrapped an arm around Clark’s shoulders—an awkward gesture because Clark was a good seven inches taller than the man, even hunched over as he usually was in the office, and Jerry had to strain awkwardly. He tried to pull Clark down to his height a little, but Clark didn’t want to hunch further down so he didn’t budge. This made things even more awkward. “We can get some flights and the guys’ll foot your bill. It’ll be great!”

“That sounds fun.” No, it did not. Clark was a lying liar who lies. Scrambling, he said, “Let me check with the wife.”

“Oh,” Jerry scoffed a laugh. “You need permission?”

Of course not, Clark thought, biting his tongue to keep those thoughts in his head, I just don’t wanna hang out with you and I’m gonna blame her.

“Ah, you know how it is,” Clark started. “We share a calendar. And I haven’t seen it today.” This was true. The next part, however, was not: “I dunno what we’re doing tonight.” He sandwiched this falsehood with another truth, “I’d hate to agree to something only to have to go back on that because I didn’t realize I already made plans with Lois.” Well, this was mostly true. He was just introverted enough to enjoy cancelling plans due to a forgotten previous engagement. Unless it was with anyone of the people who knew his secret identity. He hated cancelling those plans.

“Oh,” Jerry laughed. “You go see about that schedule, then, and let me know.”

With that, Jerry finally released Clark.

Clark counted his blessings and hightailed it to his wife.

“Lois,” he called, knocking on their office door.

She looked up from her computer screen, clearly having found something alarming in the tone of his voice. “Yeah?”

“You know the thing where kids will be like ‘let me ask my mom’ and then come back with a ‘mom said no’ even though they might not have actually ever asked mom in the first place?” Clark carefully and quietly shut the door behind him.

“Yes, I used to do that with my dad… though he usually always said no, anyway, so it was never really a lie.” Lois chuckled softly.

“Okay, well, I need you to say no for me.”

“…What?” They stared at each other for a beat. “I’m not your mom.”

“I am too old to use my mom,” Clark pointed out, “But I can use my wife. It is the adult version of ‘mom said no.’” Clark paused. Lois didn’t look convinced. “It is perfectly normal for a guy to be like, ‘ah, no I can’t do that, wife said no,’ or ‘wife said we’re busy.’ Lois!” Clark insisted, particularly since she was starting to laugh, “I need you to say we’re busy, we already have plans, I can’t because I have to take you to an appointment, or something!”

“Why am I saying no? I have to know what I’m saying no to.”

Clark slumped over. “Jerry wants me to go out with the guys tonight. You know how I feel about bars.”

Lois snorted. “I know how you feel about Jerry.”

“I obviously can never admit to that if it becomes obvious that I’m lying about not being able to go to a bar. It is a whole lot better to be honest with a ‘I get really overstimulated in bars’ and ‘I’m not a big drinker’ than it is ‘oh, I just don’t like you… at all.’” Clark threw his head back with a choked back groan, “It’s not even Jerry’s fault, he just gives me weird vibes. I dislike the guy for no real reason at all. That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Everyone has that one person they don’t like for no reason. That’s normal.”

“It doesn’t make sense!”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed. But you seem to always have a good sense about creepy people, she didn’t say. She didn’t want Clark to become paranoid that Jerry was on some offenders list, or something. Lois made a mental note to check Jerry out. Clark hadn’t been wrong about a person yet.

“Okay, so tell me we’re busy,” Clark begged.

“Well, I didn’t have anything on the calendar…”

“Lois!” There were unshed tears of panic in Clark’s eyes.

“But… didn’t we agree that if one of us got nominated that we simply had to go out for a nice dinner tonight?”

“Oh, thank God,” Clark collapsed onto the futon they had in their office. “Yes, we can go to the fanciest restaurant you can think of, honey. Something that will take really long to get ready for and will take forever because the food is made from scratch and then we wine and dine slowly in enjoyment and then slowly eat dessert because we are simply too full from dinner but it’s a decadent richness and then oh no we’ve spent all night at dinner and its well past time to kick our feet up so we can mentally prepare for work tomorrow.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Lois chortled lowly, rolling her eyes. “What fine steakhouse shall I make a short-notice reservation for?”

“I don’t care. Pick one with cheesecake.” Clark didn’t grumble this, but it sounded like a grumble because of how he had thrown an arm over his face.

Clark was in this slumped, almost pouty position when Jerry swung by their office. “Lane? Is your husb—” and that’s when Jerry saw Clark.

“Sorry, Jerry, we already have a reservation for dinner. And I am really looking forward to the cheesecake Clark promised me,” Lois informed him, tone sugary-sweet.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Another time then, Kent,” Jerry proffered, apparently assuming Clark’s posture was defeat, not relief.

Clark did grumble something in response that time, unintelligibly, but it was definitely a grumble.

Clark let Jerry get out of human earshot range before he asked, “Can the cheesecake be chocolate?”

Chapter Text

“Okay, so,” Lois gained his attention, mostly because she slapped his desk and then smooshed his cheeks when he turned to face her, “here is the plan.”

“Oh, gosh,” Clark managed through his squished cheeks.

“We are going to go undercover as a husband and wife, I haven’t decided our names yet, and it’s going to be this cruise, so pack your Hawaiian. But it’s a cruise because I’m convinced they’re running drugs through the cruise lines, and we need to prove it. It’s unfortunate that it’s a seven-day cruise. I guess we’ll have to enjoy a few days…”

“We’we mawwied now?” Clark asked, words stilted still because of Lois’ current hand placement.

“Yes.”

Lois was about to continue her story when Clark spoke, “You haben’t eben asked me to dinnew. And now we’we mawwied.” He rolled his eyes with a faux huff of frustration.

“Oh, hush, I bought our cruise tickets, so that should make up for things.” She released his face, but not before patting his cheeks. “You have to share your skin care routine because I want skin that soft. What the fuck, Smallville?”

Clark rubbed his cheek, as if checking the texture of his skin. “Would you believe me if I told you I just wash it twice a day?”

“Only wash?” Lois repeated, disbelievingly. “No moisturizer?”

Clark shrugged. “In the morning, sometimes. Depends.”

“On what?”

“Weather, really.”

“… I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re a guy.”

Clark just shrugged. “What are the details for the cruise?”

“Seven days. Four ports. I bought the all-inclusive package, because I don’t wanna worry about fumbling through a purse when trying to act like we belong there.”

“I, for one, am going to actually enjoy the cruise,” Clark said, stretching back into his chair, locking his hands behind his head.

“It isn’t a vacation. It’s an investigation.”

“You know as well as I do that I’m just part of your disguise. Like a fake mustache. Fake husband. Lemme guess, it’s a couples’ cruise, so you can’t go alone.”

“…Yes. And I’m going to start calling you my fake mustache.”

“Okay,” Clark ignored the new nickname comment, “so me enjoying a vacation will actually aid your investigation because it’ll help us look like actually cruisers. You know, like we belong there.”

“Okay but you’re going to have to abandon your pool side tanning session when I need you to.”

“Obviously,” Clark shrugged. “I’m not a negligent fake husband.” Clark dropped his arms and sat up straighter. “What else is there?”

“Um, well, you know since we’re supposed to be married, I had to book us a room with one bed. But don’t worry! It’s a king.”

Clark didn’t look pleased, but he had expected this to happen.

“I also signed us up for a few couples’ things. Because, you know, it would be weird if we didn’t do the things.” The expression on Lois’ face was a strange mix of shy and guilty. “We have a salsa class, a wine tasting, and a candlelight dinner.”

Clark’s eyes widened.

“What? Don’t give me that look! What could go wrong?”

“Clark!” Lois didn’t have to yell, but sometimes she liked being dramatic. “Fake mustache!”

“Oh, no,” Clark groaned. “We’re going undercover again.”

“Yes!” Lois cheered. “Wanna go undercover as husband and wife on a cruise with me again?”

“Oh, no,” Clark’s groan had more dread in it this time.

“We don’t even have to pretend being married this time!”

“There’s the silver lining.”

“And you can enjoy as much sun as you so choose!”

“Oh, no! Nope!”

“What? You love sunbathing!”

“So you weren’t implying this was another clothing: optional cruise?”

“Ohhhhh,” Lois vocalized her dots connecting. “That’s why you weren’t excited.” She shook her head with a laugh. “No, I checked the reviews this time. It’s a family-friendly cruise line.”

“That’s running drugs?” Clark hypothesized sarcastically.

“In my defense, I was correct. I just didn’t know it was an optionally nude cruise.”

“I still have nightmares,” Clark shuddered.

“No, this time it’s about the people going,” Lois answered.

Clark sighed. “Details?”

“Five days, three ports, all-inclusive package. One bed, naturally, since I cannot sleep without my space warming body pillow.”

“You can just say ‘husband,’” Clark grumbled, no actual bite in his voice.

“Where’s the fun in that?” That got Clark’s façade to break with a slight smile. “Rumor is the Mannheims are going to be there.”

“Oh, no,” Clark’s resignation was not fake this time.

“What? It’s just a cruise we both happen to be on! We haven’t taken a vacation in… well, I don’t think that weekend to the mountains counts, so our honeymoon. That’s ridiculous, Clark. You need to take me on more vacations,” Lois complained, as if she wasn’t a work horse who refused to take days off unless Clark was injured. “Nude cruises aside, what could go wrong?”

“Lois, my anxiety has graciously provided us with a thirty-page paper, complete with exemplifying images and sources cited in MLA formatting, to answer that question.”

Lois rolled her eyes. “Clark, tell your anxiety that you’re Superman.”

Clark didn’t miss a beat. He paused for dramatic effect before deadpanning. “My anxiety says one of the images is Kryptonite.”

“Damn, if it’s one of the images that means it has a solid three pages in the essay.” Lois paused for a moment. “Well,” she took a deep breath, “that’s why I am also going to be there.”

“This was your idea?!” Clark whined.

“Oh, grow a pair, Superman.”

Clark slumped onto his desk, hiding his head in his arms.

Turns out the Mannheims weren’t going to be there. Peia Mannheim had emergency surgery for her cancer, so they had to cancel their vacation. Of course, Lois didn’t know this until after they’d settled into the ship, and it had left the harbor.

 “Clark, you’re Superman,” Lois hissed. “We can leave at any time.”

“How will you explain our sudden absence, Lois?” Clark asked, shrugging on a beachy top.

“Superman Airlines. We had something come up, so we called in a favor.”

“Do you know how many problems that would create for me later when so many other people will try to get me to fly them away from places they just don’t wanna be in?”

Lois groaned. “Then we can leave at the next port. Somewhere we could realistically get a flight out of.”

“Or,” Clark started slowly, “here me out… we stay and enjoy the vacation. You were just complaining that I don’t take you on enough vacations and we’ve already paid for the all-inclusive package. It would be a waste to leave so early.”

“There’s no convincing you,” Lois slumped.

“Kara’s already covering Metropolis for me. I packed all my best Hawaiian shirts to fit the stereotype. I am ready for some sunshine! You will not get me off this boat before the cruise ends.”

Lois crashed into Clark, who readily wrapped his arms around his wife as she tried to get absorbed by his mass. He waited patiently for her to say something. “…Fine,” she spat.

“Yay!” He squeezed her to him briefly. “Get your suit on! Let’s go to the pool! You can have as many martinis as your heart desires. I won’t stop you.”

“Even if I’m horribly drunk and—”

“I will stop you if you are legitimately risking your health in whatever fashion that might be,” Clark amended.

Lois would never admit this, but she was actually glad this didn’t have to be an investigation. She could have Clark all to herself for the entire cruise. Something she would capitalize on to her fullest.

And even if she didn’t admit to it, Clark knew anyway, he always did. It’s why he encouraged her to stay. Because Lois always felt guilty enjoying a vacation she decided to have. But if it was out of her hands, then there wasn’t anything she could do about it, therefore she couldn’t feel guilty about it. And Clark, being the loving husband he was, made the decision to vacation for her, so she wouldn’t feel guilty. She more than deserved it.

Chapter Text

One-Drink Lois: “a little spacey” and Two-Drink Lois: “Loud Lois”

Maybe it was because of her military upbringing, but Lois Lane could handle way more alcohol than a woman her size had any business handling. But then again, Clark had seen her eat a Thanksgiving meal anytime she knew she was going to challenge someone to shots. Maybe that helped.

But helping didn’t prevent entirely. Because right now, Clark knew Lois was drunk. How? Because she was staring off into space blankly. Shaking his head in slight amusement, Clark made his way over to her side.

“Hey.”

He made his voice just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bar. It still startled her. She jumped and whipped her head around to face him so fast he feared she’d give herself whiplash.

“Oh,” Lois breathed, pressing a hand to her chest, “it’s just you. You scared me, Clark.”

“You alright?” Clark asked, smiling a little.

“What? Yea—” she hiccupped slightly, “I’m fine!” Her words were a little slow, but she did seem collected enough.

“Is it okay if I stay near you?” Clark asked, confident she was okay for now, but wanting to be nearby just in case.

“Hm?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard what he said. “Oh, yeah, sure that’s fine,” she allowed, waving her hand dismissively before signaling to the bartender to get her another drink. Clark wasn’t sure she knew what she was agreeing to.

“Take it easy on that one, okay?” he suggested, entirely doubting she’d even pretend she’d listen.

“Hey, Clark, you’re sweet and all, but I know how to take care of myself,” Lois insisted. Then she took her drink like a shot. Which was mildly concerning because it was not a shot.

Clark sighed. He should have just kept his mouth shut. Of course Lois would do the exact opposite of what he asked. He really should have known better by now.

“Hey,” Lois yelled, despite being right next to him, “what’s got you so down?!”

Clark winced and put a hand over his ear. “Lois, you really don’t have to yell.”

“What? I’m not yelling!” She was. Clark sighed. This time, he motioned for the bartender to get her another drink. He needed to get her past the ‘Loud Lois’ stage of her drunkenness scale.

Three-Drink Lois: “Lois Dance Pants”

Like she’d done with her previous drink, Lois downed the one Clark had asked for like a shot. She slammed the glass back on the counter and sat there for all of thirty seconds in complete silence before she slid off the barstool and grabbed Clark’s wrist, trying to tug him onto the dance floor, apparently.

“C’mon, Kent, we’re partners at work, so we can be partners on the floor, too,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Are you asking me to dance, Lois?” Clark teased, letting himself be tugged off the stool and onto the crowded dance floor.

“Don’t be so romantic about it, Kansas,” Lois huffed, letting go of his wrist so she could start to dance. He copied her motions, albeit much less drunkenly.

One thing he did have down was line dancing. And Dance Pants beside him really seemed to enjoy that.

“I guess they do teach you something out in Bumfuck Nowheresville,” Lois remarked, laughing almost giddily. “But I guess there’s not much else to do but line dance in your work boots and jeans.”

Clark chuckled. “Sounds about right.”

Four-Drink Lois: “Horny Lois”

At some point, Clark estimated around song three, Lois got tired of the dance floor. She then pushed Clark through the throng of people back to the bar. She claimed this was because people moved out of his way, because he was so much larger than most people. She didn’t naturally have this advantage, so she was going to leech off his.

Clark was okay with that. He wasn’t so okay with how Lois ordered another drink. He was worried she was reaching a dangerous level of intoxication. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about asking her to stop, though.

“Are you feeling okay?” he tried, figuring that gauging how nauseous she was feeling might be a good indicator for if he should cut her off or not.

She drank this one slower, taking gulps instead of shots. “Yeah, why?” she asked, giving him a weird look.

Clark couldn’t figure out what look she was giving him. It wasn’t like she was judging him for hovering or worrying. It also wasn’t like she was glaring at him to knock it off. But at least she was slowing down on the drinks some. That was his main concern. He’d keep trusting that she knew her limits, for now.

She had about a fourth of the glass left when she threw the rest of it back. She set her glass down and adjusted herself in her seat to where she was facing him. And she gave him a… more intense version of the look she’d been giving him.

And that’s where Clark placed it: sultry. Those were ‘I want you’ eyes.

Suddenly, Clark was scared. So he ordered them both drinks. Which he thought would solve the problem. But he didn’t factor in the chance she might not drink it right away.

“Aw, you didn’t even ask if you could buy me a drink,” she purred, sliding out of her chair so she could press herself up against him, dragging her hands across his shoulders before settling them near his neck with a firm grip.

“I—ahem—I just—erm—figured it was okay, since I’ve done it before…?”

“Well, let me tell you then, that you can buy me a drink anytime you please, handsome,” Lois whispered seductively into his ear, biting the lobe after she was done speaking.

Clark was so confused. He was turned on, but she was drunk and he never wanted to cross any lines with her, and he really needed her to drink that. And then he felt oddly like he was drugging her. Which confused him more.

 “Well,” he gulped, “I dunno if I’ll wanna buy you a dr-drink again, if—” he got distracted by the way she was carding her fingers through his hair. “if—” he tried again.

“If what, hot stuff?”

“If you don’t dr-drink the one I al-already bought,” he finished, finally, shivering at her touch.

Lois glossed her hands across his shoulders, raking her nails as she went. As some point, Clark was hazy on the details, her hand was dragging across his jaw? Which was making him look at her and her bedroom eyes. He was toast. He was ninety percent sure he might have died. Of embarrassment or arousal? Who knows? Not him. It could have been both.

But he started to become more aware of himself when she finally wasn’t touching him anymore and downed the drink he’d bought her. She gave him a sly grin as she placed the glass back down.

Five-Drink Lois: “Weirdly Confident”

She kept her eyes on him for a while. Clark was trying to ignore her and sipped his own drink. He sincerely hoped five drink Lois was… different.

“You got a bit of a problem there, Kansas,” she hiccupped. She pressed a hand to her mouth to conceal more hiccups and waved at the bartender to bring her another drink.

He almost dreaded to ask, “How do you mean?”

She didn’t respond, so he finally turned his head to look at her. He immediately wished he hadn’t because as soon as they made eye contact, she glanced down. Below his belt. He breathed harshly through his nose and turned back to facing forward. Slowly, so as to not attract attention, he glanced down. And yeah, he did have a problem. He shifted, hunching further into himself and closer to the bar top in an attempt to hide the problem.

“Want help with that?” Lois asked, suddenly right next to him.

He couldn’t help it, he jumped, banging the counter so hard with his knees that three glasses fell off. Clark winced when they shattered. Fortunately, the bartender had disappeared into the back room, probably to fetch more ice, and Lois was too drunk to notice. He hoped.

“What?!” Clark asked, voice pitched higher than he’d care to admit, entirely taken aback. He made the mistake of turning to face her, having done so in surprise. This gave her the perfect opportunity to palm his problem. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. And considering he was invulnerable, that was saying something. He quickly removed her hand, trying to remain inconspicuous. “No! No, I don’t need help!” Clark was probably half a decimal away from yelling. He had definitely achieved some type of whine.

“Shame,” Lois muttered, pulling her hand back. “You pack some good equipment. Shouldn’t call you Smallville anymore.”

“Ohh, that was so cheesy and awful,” Clark groaned, trying to focus on that than whatever had just happened.

Lois laughed, “Coming from you, that’s saying something, Mr. Hallmark Christmas Movie Man.”

The bartender finally resurfaced with ice and quickly finished the drink Lois had asked for.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just, you know, you’re the perfect guy the big city girl meets when she’s in the small town and falls in love with and saves the family-owned bakery with.” She once again took her drink like a shot. He was beginning to think she was trying to get drunk to drown her sorrows or something. “You’re the love interest in the cheesy Christmas movies that Hallmark airs starting in fucking October.”

Six-Drink Lois: “Just Sad”

If four drink Lois was scary, and five drink Lois was more forward than usual, six drink Lois was almost a lucky break for Clark.

“Why do they air them starting in October, Clark?” Lois whined, tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t enjoy Halloween and Thanksgiving in peace?”

Tears were so much more preferrable than sexual advancements, in Clark’s opinion. He knew how to handle those. And, if he was being totally, completely transparent, the tears helped take care of his problem. Lois being sad was apparently the opposite of what got him off, not that that was necessarily surprising, since he always wanted to make her happy.

Teary-eyed Lois was something he could fix. Or at least comfort a little bit. He scooted his stool closer to hers and wrapped an arm around her. “Hey, it’s okay. They only air them on one channel.”

“But why can’t they wait until November?” she sobbed, clutching him closely and burying her face in his shoulder. At least tears didn’t stain like alcohol did.

The bartender placed another glass by them entirely unprompted. He looked scared.

Seven-Drink Lois: “Cuddle Bug”

Lois cried into his shoulder for five minutes. When her tears tapered down a bit, she pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I need a drink,” she mumbled and looked for her empty glass only to find the full one.

She sipped this one gradually. Surprising Clark a little, but not in a bad way. He hoped she actually was slowing down this time.

She still had one arm through his. And the more she drank, the more she leaned closer to him. Eventually, she finished the glass and then she decided that Clark’s lap was an excellent seat—far better than the barstool she was currently sitting on.

Clark couldn’t be more glad that his problem was gone.

That said, he wasn’t as upset by this situation as he maybe should have been. Lois was more or less wrapped around him like a koala. And honestly, that was probably why he was chill with this. He had never once in his life denied that he was probably touch starved. So this was nice. He found himself relaxing for the first time since he’d been dragged to the bar by Lois, Jimmy, and Steve.

“Have I ever told you how good you are at giving hugs?” Lois asked, words sounding slurred. Clark wasn’t sure if that was due to the alcohol or the way her face was buried in his neck.

“No, but thank you,” Clark answered, smiling even though she couldn’t see. He couldn’t resist wrapped his arms around her. He decided it wasn’t weird for him to return the contact since it was completely innocent. He really wished she’d put her head somewhere else, though, or maybe just turn it away from his neck.

“Can you hug me always?” Lois mumbled into his skin, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“As much as I would love that, Lo, I think that is probably very impractical,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Lois agreed. “I wouldn’t want to hug you while I tried to use the bathroom. That’d be weird and gross.”

Clark couldn’t help but laugh. “That—I didn’t need to picture that, but you’re right. I wouldn’t want that either.”

“I’d be more practical for you, though. I could just hug you from behind while you did your business, ya know?”

She seemed focused on this topic. He decided to indulge her. “But what if I have to go two?”

Lois seemed to freeze. “Oh, you’re right. Yeah, no, hugging you while in the bathroom only works if its number one.”

“I think I’d still be uncomfortable with that,” Clark informed her.

“What? Are you pee shy, farm boy? You can always go in a bush. I won’t hear much of anything thataway.”

“Why are we talking about this again?” Clark asked in an attempt to change the subject.

“Because I don’t ever want to stop hugging you, but that wouldn’t be feastable.”

“Feasible?” Clark offered the correct word.

“Yeah, that,” Lois murmured, nuzzling closer to his neck, seemingly getting tired.

“You ready to go home?” he wondered aloud.

“Tryna take me home, pretty boy?” she mumbled into his skin, placing a small kiss on his neck.

“Not for the reason you’re apparently thinking. I meant: are you tired?” Clark corrected.

She pulled away just enough so where she could look him in the eyes. “Aw, I wouldn’t be opposed to the other reason. But, nah, I’m not. Just wanted a nice hug, is all,” she replied, words definitely starting to slur. Before he could say anything, she twisted half around and grabbed the drink Clark had completely forgotten about. He’d only taken maybe two sips of it, leaving the rest to be downed by Lois, apparently. She drank it quickly, but not all in one go. This gave Clark hope that she truly was winding down, since she’d sipped the last drink, too.

Eight-Drink Lois: “Equestrian Lois”

“Lois, what are you doing?” Clark had thought she was slowing down. Clark now feared the return of four drink Lois. She had shifted off his lap and was now cantering her hips over his thigh.

“I’m riding a horse!” she answered, confidently.

“…You’re riding my leg,” Clark disagreed. His voice had come out all hoarse and tight.

Lois stopped her movements immediately. “Wha? Oh!” She gripped him at the back of the neck with both hands, fingers gently playing with the curls there. She laughed freely. “I thought it was a horse! Ah, sorry, Clarkiepoo.”

Clark was sure his face was approximately as red as his cape. For reasons he wasn’t ready to explore even remotely, he really enjoyed the nickname ‘Clarkiepoo.’ Though maybe he just enjoyed the way his name sounded from Lois’ lips.

Now he felt he needed a stiff one.

“Well, I wanna ride a horse. Lemme get a drink and then we can go find one,” Lois instructed, twisting once more to get a drink.

“Yeah, I want one, too,” Clark whispered, voice thick.

Lois laughed. “Loosening up, big guy?” She flagged the bartender and help up two fingers. Turning back around to face Clark, she cupped his face and said, “Never thought I’d see you really enjoy a drink.”

“Need I remind you that you drank the one I already ordered?”

Lois giggled. The view he had of her allowed him to see that she was flushed, a sign of her inebriation more than anything else. “That doesn’t count, silly,” she slurred. “I drank that one.”

“Right.” Clark nodded, making her hands caress his face. This apparently encouraged her to pet him. He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Fortunately, the bartender came to his rescue yet again with a well-timed drink delivery. Lois reached around to grab them both. When he accepted his, she clinked their glasses together and took a generous sip. Clark gulped most of his. It did nothing, of course, but the action allowed him to pretend he felt a little better after.

Unfortunately, the way he drank his humored Lois and led her to copy him. Which caused her to finish her drink in short order.

Nine-Drink Lois: “French Genius Lois”

“Please, tell me we’re done, Lo,” Clark begged after they both polished their drinks off.

Lois cleared her throat. Clark motioned to the bartender for a water. He should have thought to do that a while ago; he mentally berated himself.

“Je pense que je suis prêt à rentrer à la maison, oui,” Lois answered his plea.

Clark immediately started getting off his barstool. “Yep, no, foreign language? I’m taking you home.” He didn’t care that Lois had been sitting on top of him. She wasn’t heavy—nothing was heavy to him, though—and he quickly adjusted her so he could stand up. The bartender showed up with the water. “Can I have that in a to-go cup? And I’ll pay the tab.”

“The tab’s on Perry if you’re with the Planet,” the man reminded.

“Oh, that’s just perfect,” Clark breathed the praise. “Thank you,” he said when the bartender gave him the water in a Styrofoam cup. He still had an arm around Lois—she had seemed disoriented and shaky when he’d placed her on her feet—so it was no trouble at all for him to direct her out of the bar.

“Oh, il fait si beau dehors ce soir,” Lois breathed when they exited the building. Then she immediately started shivering when a breeze came by.

“A little chilly, actually.” Clark quickly handed her the water. “Here, please drink that,” he suggested. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before resuming his previous hold on her.

“Tu es si douce, mon amour,” Lois mumbled sweetly. “Tu l’es toujours. Mon héros,” she continued. “Tu sais, je suis vraiment amoureux de toi depuis un certain temps maintenant. Mais je n’ai jamais voulu rien dire parce que je ne veux pas compromettre ce que nous avons déjà. À vrai dire, tu me fais sentir plus en sécurité jamais. Mais ironiquement, ça me terrifie. J’en veux à mon père, vraiment.”

“I—uh—I dunno what you’re saying, Lois,” Clark told her, blushing brightly.

“Menteur. Tu as juste peur que j’exagère, parce que je suis peut-être un peu… pompette,” she responded, humored heat in her voice. “Ou alors tu feins l’ignorance pour me preserver de ma sobriété. Si c’est ça, merci d’avance.”

“Yeah,” Clark said, clearly trying to sound like an adult talking to a toddler, who seems to know exactly what they’re blabbing about.

Lois sighed, leaning closer to Clark. “Je suis presque sûre que tu n’es pas seulement polie avec moi. Tout le bureau est persuade que tu as le béguin pour moi. Je l’espère vraiment, parce que tu me plais vraiment aussi.”

“Right,” Clark encouraged, in the same talking-to-a-toddler manner.

Lois looked up at him. He seemed very intent on watching the ground. It was obvious to her that his mind was churning. “Tu ne me crois pas parce que je suis saoul. Mais je te promets que tu devrais m’inviter à sortir.”

“Lois, I’m pretty sure that’s French—”

Clark was not being subtle. So she wouldn’t be either. She interrupted him. “Oui, Clark, je parle français. Tu sais, la langue la plus romantique? Prends un putain d’indice, Kansas. Et je ne crois pas une seconde que tu ne puisses pas comprendre ce que je dis. Je suis saoul, pas stupide. En fait, j’ose dire que je suis brillant.”

By this point, they arrived at Lois’ apartment. Clark, having taken possession of her purse when they’d left the bar, fished her keys out. Clark was silent for a while. Lois let him collect his thoughts. “Okay, fine. I speak a little French,” he admitted.

Lois spat. “Connerie. Vous le parlez couramment. Mais je vais vous le laisser faire parce que moi, sobre, j’apprécierais que vous n’ayez pas compris ce que je dis.”

“I dunno what you want me to say, Lo,” he confessed. Despite his unwillingness to discuss his feelings for her while she was drunk, he still helped her settle in, made sure she would be okay.

“Je ne veux pas que tu dises quoi que ce soit, vraiment,” she assured him, pretending not to notice the way he relaxed. “Donne-moi juste un bisou.”

Clark’s eyes widened, confirming, once and for all, that he’d understood everything. But before he could form a reply, she grabbed his face and brought him down to meet her halfway—her little feet could only stretch up so far—in a kiss that wasn’t romantic at all but way less sloppy than it could have been considering how drunk she was.

“J’aime ton baume à lèvres,” she told him as she turned into her bedroom. “Éteins les luminères en partant, s’il te plait, merci.” She shut her bedroom door in his face.

Chapter Text

Jerry from research really liked Clark Kent. Jerry was the type of guy that was ignored by everyone in the office. He was small, did grunt work, wore glasses that made him look like a boffin. He also had no sense of style—no matter what he did, he just couldn’t pull the ladies.

Clark Kent seemed like the type of guy Jerry should detest. He was tall, won awards for his work, wore glasses that made him look intelligent in a handsome way. He also had no sense of style, since all his clothes were ill-fitting, but he managed this in a charming way that attracted the ladies. Or maybe that was the physique everyone knew Kent was packing.

But the thing was, Clark Kent was so nice. Sure, he was nice to everyone, but Jerry had seen the types of people that were nice to their coworkers and then changed face with the other people in the office. Clark Kent was not this type of nice person. Clark Kent was nice to absolutely everyone. He would even apologize to the interns for no apparent reason whatsoever.

And that was why Clark Kent was Jerry’s favorite person ever.

Rachel from archives adored Clark Kent. He was the sweetest man on the face of the earth. And he was hot. He was classically handsome in the sense that he had a strong, sharp jawline, strong brows, expressive eyes, a balanced nose, and full, rosy lips. Not to mention he was incredibly tall and broad. Rachel would pay good money to see the man straighten up. She was willing to bet a year’s salary that he looked even more impressive when he practiced good posture.

But really, the most attractive thing about him was his personality and attitude. He was caring and witty and attentive. He was kind, thoughtful, and forgiving. He was gentle and guiding and quietly inspiring.

He seemed like the type of guy that should and wanted to fade into the background but cared too much about the people he worked with to stay there. He was constantly helping other people. He didn’t get paid to do this, it was not remotely part of his job, but he did it anyway because he could. He was too good for this world.

Now, Rachel was in a loving relationship already, but she would die for Clark Kent. And she knew for a fact that all the other ladies in the office would agree.

Steve Lombard was used to being the only guy in the office. Which was an odd statement to make, especially since he wasn’t the only guy in the office. But it sure seemed like that, most times, since most of the other guys just did what they were told and had no personality.

And then Clark Kent joined the team.

And Steve found a friend in him.

Which surprised him immensely because Clark Kent did not at all seem like the type of guy he would sit and have a cold one with. But it wasn’t uncommon for Steve and Clark to catch a Meteors game, or a Tigers game, or a Monarchs game, or… the point being, they often supported the Metropolis sports teams.

Steve was the sports reporter. And nowadays, he worked with the tv channel more than he did the ol’ black and white.

Which made his relationship with Clark Kent even stranger.

Clark Kent was an investigative journalist. The cop of the newsroom, they liked to joke—they being literally anyone but the investigatives; which was even funnier in the context of how any investigative journalist worth their salt often found themselves ignoring laws and dodging authorities.

More to the point, Clark Kent was shy, a little flighty, a total nerd, a bit of a loser, and truly brilliant.

All of which Steve was not. Steve was loud, solidly lazy, a jock, a ladies’ man (so he liked to think), and a bit dull (he was cocky but not unrealistic).

Just about the only thing Steve and Clark Kent had in common was how they both towered over everyone else in the office. And Clark Kent didn’t even ever stand up straight.

That, and Clark Kent was oddly strong. Like, Steve had trouble moving the man around when he didn’t want to be moved. And it was frankly embarrassing when Steve was straining to fight Clark with something physical—like, say, dragging Kent to the bar for some beers—and Steve had quickly given up trying to push Kent around in order to save face. No jock wanted to be outmuscled by the nerd.

But that was before Steve had seen Clark Kent in streetwear. It was odd. In the office, Clark Kent wore suits that didn’t fit which added to his loserness and nerdiness. But when he went out to a game with Steve for the first time, Steve was dumbfounded in the oddest way. Steve had almost not even recognized the man. Because Clark Kent, very contrary to when he was at work, wore well-fitting jeans and an old t-shirt that fit him well. And this combo made it very obvious that Clark Kent was jacked. And Steve, for the first time in a very long time, felt vaguely insecure, but not necessarily in a bad way. Which was confusing.

In the office, though, it seemed like Steve was the best muscled person there. He was a retired athlete, hence his career in sports reporting, and hadn’t stopped being a gym rat. But he was more casual about it now than he had been in his twenties. He used that as his excuse to why Clark Kent was more muscled than he was. Clark Kent might have played ball at some point—Steve wouldn’t know, he’d never asked, always assumed Clark Kent was too nerdy to have tried sports—and would have the workout routine to have a body like that. And Clark Kent was nearly a decade younger than Steve, so it would make sense that he would have a little more energy to hit the gym with.

When he finally did ask Clark Kent what his workout routine was, the man laughed shyly and admitted that he did do some hand-to-hand combat training with a buddy of his. He confessed that he didn’t do it as often as his buddy would like, but when he did, it was always brutal.

Steve decided quietly that he’d look into taking some boxing classes, or something. Maybe he’d get decent at it and invite Clark Kent to join him.

Jimmy Olsen’s claim to fame was probably that he was Superman’s best friend. Obviously, Jimmy knew that Superman’s best friend was actually Batman, and that helped with the whole safety issue—turns out, when bad guys think you’re best friends with a superhero, they’ll target you to get to them—and really, maintaining a friendship with a guy you only saw every now and then was incredibly difficult. So, yeah, Jimmy wasn’t actually Superman’s best friend, but they were still friends.

This claim to fame, though, certainly helped Jimmy’s career. Superman would pose for some shots for Jimmy any time he asked. And as an up-and-coming photographer for one of the most prestigious newspapers in the world, this was always a welcome reprieve.

That said, Jimmy didn’t have a lot of spare time, ever. Being a young photographer for the Planet meant he pulled insane hours, did intern-style work for the journalists, and didn’t ever have a lot of free time. Which meant he didn’t have a whole lot of friends outside of work. Which also meant his closest friends were at work.

Namely, Clark Kent. Clark Kent was probably the closest thing to an older brother Jimmy would ever have. And he really couldn’t have found a better one.

Clark Kent was a shoulder to lean on, someone Jimmy could ask for advice, someone Jimmy knew would always be there for him.

Clark Kent had been there time after time when Jimmy got dumped, or when Jimmy’s absent dad occasionally swung into his life again. Clark Kent was incredibly wise for his years and often pointed Jimmy exactly in the right direction, whether this be in life or at work. Clark Kent was also the least intimidating person Jimmy had ever met, which meant he felt like he could go up to Clark, explain his grievances, and not have to worry about being judged since he knew Clark would just listen. If he needed advice, Clark would give it; if he needed to vent, Clark was there for that, too.

And Clark Kent was also an excellent role model. Jimmy had seen Clark Kent go through all sorts of insane things. He’d watched Clark Kent get bullied by Lois Lane, he’d watched Clark Kent lose a story, he’d watched Clark Kent get falsely arrested, he’d watched Clark Kent get thrown out a window by Bizarro. He’d watched Clark Kent get happy, upset, depressed, elated, and stay calm in high pressure situations. He had literally seen the full spectrum of Clark Kent, and never once had the man caused harm to anyone or anything. And he’d also watched Clark Kent apologize genuinely and profusely for any harm he thought he might have caused.

Clark Kent had helped Jimmy on many a research project, many a photo development, many a grievance with a coworker. Jimmy had watched Clark Kent help others with similar issues. Jimmy had watched Clark Kent take care of Lois Lane—who was by far the most difficult person to work with in the office. Jimmy had watched Clark Kent bring out the best in everyone.

Jimmy had also watched Clark Kent make Lois Lane fall in love with him, literally just by being a good guy. Which, since Jimmy had known Lois Lane before Clark Kent had joined the Planet staff, was one of Jimmy’s favorite things.

So Jimmy’s favorite claim to make? Clark Kent was the best mentor he could have ever asked for.

Perry White was an experienced newspaperman. He treated all of his staff like family. And he wasn’t just saying that. He was brutally honest and expected his employees to meet a high bar, but he respected and cared for his staff.

For example: Lois Lane had to be forced to take days off. It was for her own health. The girl had no clue how to take care of herself. She’d work herself to an early grave if Perry wasn’t sure to give her a forced vacation every now and then.

Like any parent, he would always claim to not have favorites. However, he wasn’t actually a parent here, so he could lie about that. Because he did have favorites. And for a long time, this was just Lois Lane.

But then he’d hired Clark Kent. And since he hadn’t quite been sure about what Clark Kent was made of, he assigned the kid to Lois Lane. And that was probably the most brilliant decision of his entire career, since he immediately noticed the effect the kid had on her.

It wasn’t obvious at first, Perry doubted anyone else would notice it. But it was there. Lois Lane was a little bit happier. And she was safer—not by much, but a win was a win. And she was definitely healthier. She’d gained a healthy amount of weight—Perry was starting to get worried she’d be diagnosed with anorexia soon; she was so small—and the bags under her eyes started lightening until they were gone. Her cheeks gained a healthy color, and she smiled more. Never mind how her productivity had shot through the roof.

So Clark Kent quickly became one of Perry’s favorites.

And he earned a permanent position there by the way he treated his coworkers. Clark Kent would do anything to help his coworkers. It was like the man was convinced that nothing was beneath him or too far out of his job description.

After the way he rescued Lois Lane, would go out of his way for his other coworkers, and the amazing stories he pulled together, Perry was convinced Clark Kent was underpaid.

It didn’t take long for Clark Kent to get promoted.

And then Perry figured out he was Superman. Which explained a lot about so much. Henceforward, Perry got to watch Lois Lane admit she was friends with Clark Kent, fall in love with Clark Kent, admit she was in love with Clark Kent, establish a relationship with Clark Kent, figure out Clark Kent was Superman, surprisingly wait for Clark Kent to admit he was Superman, and agree to marry Clark Kent.

And Perry White was very happy to approve Lois Lane’s request for two weeks paid vacation for her honeymoon. Clark Kent had come in several months previously to ask if two weeks would be allowed. Perry White had given the man a raise for even plotting to try and get Lois Lane to take that time off.

Jimmy Olsen didn’t get any pictures of Perry crying at the Lane-Kent wedding, so that meant he hadn’t cried. That was newspaperman logic, after all.

Lois Lane hated working with others. They never understood her system and always slowed her down. The only person she tolerated was Jimmy and that was because he was a photographer, which was just different enough.

So it really wasn’t a surprise when Lois was extremely displeased when Perry assigned the green reporter, Clark Kent, to her.

What was a surprise was how much she didn’t hate him.

Clark Kent figured out her system so fast, it was as if he’d been given a training course on Lois Lane. And he didn’t slow her down at all. Quite the opposite, in fact, since results speak for themselves.

Lois Lane was a city girl. Clark Kent was a country boy. She expected to have to teach him a lot about big city life. She didn’t expect for him to teach her anything. But there he was, teaching her what being spoiled felt like. She never got her own coffee, he was always making sure she ate, and he always made her smile at least seven times every day—unless she was extraordinarily upset with him that day. And even on those days, he still would manage to put a smile on her face.

He was kind, thoughtful, and incredibly stubborn about the strangest things. He would back down on a story, but he would refuse to let her skip a meal. He would let her take the lead in interviews, but would adamantly protest if she tried to bring her own luggage into the airport.

She had no idea precisely when she had started considering him her best friend. She also couldn’t recall when she’d fallen in love with him—she had been in love with him for a while before she fully realized the truth of that.

But those details where fairly unimportant in the face of the fact that she was blessed to have found her best friend, closest confidant, and favorite coworker in her husband.

No one loved Clark Kent more than she.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane was convinced Clark Kent did not have a spine. He unquestionably and without complaint did everything she asked him to. Or well, if she was being honest, she never asked him to do anything—she told him what to do. And he did it, always.

Which is why she was so confused about the sandwich sitting on her desk.

For background information, Lois had been bossing Clark around for about a month now. Remember when she said he unquestionably did what she asked? Yeah, that meant more along the lines of: Clark didn’t ask questions about the task. Because he did ask a lot of questions. Which was totally normal and very expected, since he was the country boy who moved to the big city. It would have been weird and concerning if he didn’t ask questions. He needed to learn after all. But one of the questions he asked most frequently was always something like ‘What’s for lunch?’ or ‘What are we doing for food?’ or ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

Lois figured this hyperfixation on food was due to his nuclear family, rural type upbringing… the kind where they’ve got nothing else going on but food. She’d bet her bottom dollar that Clark Kent grew up going to barbeques and grill outs, that sort of thing, for reunions. Or church potlucks every special occasion. She would wager a very pretty penny that the turkey he was used to seeing on Thanksgiving was all corn-fed or whatever, slaughtered the day before, all dolled up the day of, and cooked to perfection by some grandma of the family.

But today, today was different. She’d barely seen Clark.

Perry had given her an advanced deadline, which meant she had to fast-track her quote and information gathering. So she’d been on the run to meet one of her sources. She’d made a pit stop at her desk to gather her purse and her gear, and Clark, who had the desk nearest to hers, had mentioned he was going to grab lunch at the sandwich shop on the corner. She loved that sandwich shop, and he knew this. But she did not have time today. Her deadline was looming and her window to gather data was closing.

Which is why she was so confused about the sandwich sitting on her desk.

She distinctly remembered telling Clark to go on without her as she had work to do that could not wait. Clark had graciously offered to get her something. But Lois wasn’t really ever in the habit of eating lunch anyway, she had a stash of chocolates in her desk that worked just fine to hold her until dinner, and had told him to not worry about it.

“Don’t bother,” she believed were her exact words.

Which is why she was so confused about the sandwich sitting on her desk.

It was still hot. It was her exact order, extra pickles and all. It was very obviously meant to be her lunch. The lunch she distinctly remembered telling Clark to not get her.

She turned to his desk to rip him a new one, yet he was conveniently absent. She looked all around the office. No Clark.

And the sandwich smelled too good to just throw away. And it was her favorite.

She glanced around the office again. Still clear of Clark Kent. She snatched the sandwich off the desk, grabbed her notes, and claimed a conference room so she could eat her sandwich in secret while under the guise of reviewing her notes in a less noisy area.

Lois Lane was about ready to bite someone’s head off. And due to his constant proximity to her, it was likely her victim would be Clark Kent.

“They are hiding something, farmboy,” Lois hissed, practically spitting her last words.

“Lois, I really do think—”

“I don’t care what you think, Kansas!” Lois interrupted. “You are the reason we were dismissed so quickly,” Lois accused, thrusting her finger into Clark’s chest. “You got all flustered and started stumbling and knocked over those file cabinets which resulted in us getting. Thrown. Out.”

“Maybe you should eat something,” Clark suggested, moving away from Lois just a little bit, trying to be subtle.

“Eat something?” Lois repeated, voice indicating that Clark was on very thin ice.

“Yes, eat,” Clark confirmed, voice firm despite his posture suggesting he wanted to run for the hills. “I really do think you’ll feel better after—”

“Don’t you dare—”

“—you eat something,” he finished his sentence.

“—tell me I’m hangry,” she snarled, getting in his face.

They really made quite the picture. Clark Kent was probably 6’4” and would easily tower over Lois Lane, if he ever straightened his spine. Lois Lane was right at 5’3” without the four-inch heels she usually wore. Clark’s God-awful posture probably made him around 6’1” and Lois’ heels put her close to 5’7,” which still left a pretty decent height difference between them. Furthermore, Lois Lane was a small woman. Clark Kent, when one tried to look past the suits he practically swam in, had a pretty burly figure.

The point being, in no world did it make sense that Clark Kent would cower before Lois Lane, but there they were. Lois Lane had pressed herself well into Clark’s personal space and was doing a very good job of making him uncomfortable.

“I never said hangry,” Clark tried, not making eye contact with Lois despite their closeness. “I just th-think may-maybe a good solution to the problem w-will be found once, uh, once we eat?” Clark winced slightly as he finished his statement. “’Cause y’know, food stimulates the brain and all that.”

Lois practically growled in his face, making Clark’s eyes widen and his cheeks to turn red.

“I’m not stopping for lunch. We don’t have that time.”

“I have lunch in the fridge,” Clark squeaked before clearing his throat. “If y-you’ll j-just let me, uh, go get it…?”

Lois set her jaw. “Fine,” she spat.

“Okay,” Clark was visibly relieved and pointed both thumbs toward the doorway behind him, “I’ll just be—” and he disappeared out the door.

Lois blinked. He’d made his escape faster than she’d been prepared for. But he reappeared faster than expected, too.

He wordlessly offered her the brown bag with his lunch inside. She took it with a scowl. She wasn’t some baby that needed to be fed. But she had to admit the chicken salad sandwich did look really good. Smallville could cook, she had to give him that.

Lois pretended to review her notes while she ate Clark’s sandwich. She didn’t pay him much attention as he shuffled closer to the window.

“Okay,” Lois began as she was finishing the sandwich. She would never admit to it, but she did feel much better now that she’d eaten. She realized halfway through the sandwich that she’d skipped breakfast this morning, so maybe she really had been getting hangry.

“Before you say anything,” Clark started from his position where he was leaning against the window, sun glinting off his glasses. “I knocked over the file cabinets for a reason.”

“… What?”

Clark pulled a manila folder from his suit jacket. “Had to have a good reason to grab at a bunch file folders. And then I accidentally took one with me.”

It was probably because he’d just fed her an excellent chicken salad sandwich, but Lois almost told him he was a genius.

“Lois?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go get dinner?” Clark asked.

“Look, Smallville, I like you and all, but—”

“N-no, Lois,” Clark interrupted. “I meant, its dinnertime and we haven’t taken a break.”

Lois paused, letting his words sink in. “Oh!” she laughed. “Oh, yeah, I could go for dinner. But not right now because I’m literally in the middle of these notes.”

Clark blinked. “Notes.”

“Yeah, it’s really important,” she insisted.

“Right,” Clark deadpanned. “Well, I’m going to dinner. I’ll bring you something.”

“You don’t have to do that, Kansas.”

“I’ll bring you something,” Clark repeated.

“Seriously, Clark. I won’t eat it.”

“I will bring you food and you will eat it because it’s going to smell so good you won’t be able to resist,” Clark hypothesized right as he walked out the door. “I will return shortly.”

He was gone maybe twenty minutes before he returned with the best smelling Chinese food. He wordlessly placed it before her. She ignored it.

She ignored it successfully for five minutes. That’s when Clark opened the lid, letting the mouth-watering aroma hit her full force.

She ignored it still for what felt like minutes but was really nearly thirty seconds.

Clark didn’t say anything as she attempted to be sneaky about reaching for the container he’d given her. She pointedly wasn’t looking at him, so she missed the gentle smile on Clark’s face.

Lois had gotten to the Planet at her usual hour, two hours before everyone else. She had gotten into the habit because Perry had stopped letting her work late into the night and would send her home. So she figured early mornings where no one knew how long she’d been there was a good solution.

She had woken up a little late that morning, though. The night before had been a rough one and she’d wanted to stay in bed a little longer than usual. It was fine, though. She skipped breakfast to make up for the time she’d lollygagged in bed. She knew she only had to survive two hours before the first temp to get here put a pot of coffee on. She knew Clark kept a stash of Cokes in the minifridge he pretended he didn’t have.

Sneaking over to his desk, she opened the fridge and was immediately greeted with a Tupperware container with two omelets inside. There was a label taped onto the top of it. It was folded over, though. So, in order to read what it said just because she was curious of course, she pulled the container out and flipped open the paper. The first thing she saw was the date it was made, the day before. The next thing she saw was the message Clark had written underneath it. Lois, I know you’re plotting something insane today. Which means you probably will skip breakfast tomorrow. So here’s breakfast :)

Damn that man.

Or well, maybe not, since he’d put an iced coffee in the fridge, too. Which also had a note. I know this probably won’t be the best tasting when you see this, but it’s better than nothing, right? I’ll bring you a better one later :)

He thought he was being cute. Which, if the soft smile on her face was anything to go by, was correct. But she’d never tell him that.

Still, she took the omelets to the microwave and heated them up. She threw the notes away and started sipping her coffee as she waited for the food.

She didn’t know how Clark did it, but despite being reheated, this was the best tasting omelet she’d ever had.

When she was done, she put the empty Tupperware back in his minifridge and got back to work. She made the coffee last about an hour before dumping the ice that remained into the break room sink and throwing the plastic cup in the recycle that one of the interns had started up recently.

Exactly seventy-two minutes after she’d destroyed the last of the evidence that she’d seen what Clark had left for her, he walked in with a coffee and a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Good morning, Lois,” was all he said as he left both the coffee and the bag for her on his way to his desk. Lois was confused when she saw him smile almost secretly as she’d also noticed he didn’t check the minifridge at all, like made no move towards it.

She opened the bag. A chocolate croissant. A humble offering, definitely. But she loved chocolate and hadalready eaten breakfast. This man knew what he was doing. This was his game, and she knew she didn’t stand a chance. She wouldn’t beat him.

“Good morning, Clark,” she said instead of thank you.

Clark gave her a brilliant smile anyway. He knew what she really meant.

“Dinner?” Clark asked, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“What is it and your obsession with food?” Lois asked, finally, after two-ish years of enduring similar questions.

Clark huffed fondly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Lo, if I don’t bring up food, you won’t eat.”

“That is not true,” Lois denied.

She couldn’t see from their current position, but she knew Clark was giving her a look that would sarcastically read: Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart.

“It isn’t!” Lois insisted.

“Lois, you’re usually right,” Clark began. “But this time, no. You’re not. Sorry, hon, but I’m basically an expert. Perry literally gave me a raise over this.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Okay, so that wasn’t the only reason I got a raise, but he did mention it three times. And you know Perry doesn’t repeat something unless he thinks it’s really important…”

“Dammit.”

“So dinner?”

“Fine. Dinner.”

Clark kissed her cheek. “Okay, well, finish up whatever you were doing, and I’ll call in an order.”

“Did you have something planned, Mister?” she asked, wondering why he’d bother calling in an order if he was making her come to a stopping point.

Clark had pulled away, about to return to his desk to call the restaurant he had in mind. Turning back, Lois, as she had twisted her chair so she could face him, could see the shy, almost sheepish expression on his face. “I was hoping we could watch a movie.”

“You want to go to the theater?” Lois asked, now wondering why he hadn’t just asked that. 

“Well, no,” Clark informed her. “We can if you want, but I was planning for something at one of our places.”

“My place has a better setup,” Lois stated, turning back to her computer.

“What? What’s wrong with my setup? My tv is bigger.”

“You also have the better sound system, but your windows let in too much light. Ruins the ambiance.”

“Ohhhh,” Clark drew out. “Well then I’ll just draw the shades.”

“How did I never notice you had those?”

“I think, since we’ve started dating, we haven’t been to my apartment. They might not have been there last time you were over.”

Clark sounded a little ashamed that it had taken him so long to get window treatments. Lois laughed with her belly.

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to go to your place, then. I need to judge the quality of your blinds. I also didn’t clean my living room today.”

Clark chuckled. “I’ve seen worse, I promise.”

“No, Clark, seriously. I was halfway through folding laundry last night when I got distracted by a source. It is a mess in there.”

Clark just smiled knowingly at her.

Damn. She’d forgotten he had seen way worse. Her ‘Clark-era,’ as Jimmy had dubbed it, had brought about much better habits. Previously, she’d have her clean laundry chair, and the not-quite-dirty-not-quite-clean laundry section of the couch. And she’d also have other odds and ends that could have been put away but weren’t because she’d had no reason to keep up after herself.

There had been many a time when Clark had invited himself in so he could make sure she was okay. There were several times where Clark would calm her down, make sure she was comfortable while she napped, and would clean her apartment for her to busy himself until she woke up. He’d cleaned her dishes, taken out her trash, and folded her laundry before. Multiple times.

He would also always have food for her, too. And plenty of water.

He did a really good job of making her have better habits, mostly just by constantly setting a better example.

“Okay, but I do want to judge your blinds.”

Clark shrugged. “Valid.”

Turns out, the blinds were great, (obviously), which made Clark’s apartment the superior place to watch movies and tv.

Lois had connected dots. Clark was Superman. And she had to laugh at herself. Her first thought after coming to this conclusion was not “Why didn’t he tell me?” No, that was her second thought. Her very first thought was: “Does he even need to eat?”

Clark was virtually obsessed with making sure she had a healthy diet. She had to admit that without his interference, he was right, she had a terrible eating schedule. More truthfully, without his involvement, she didn’t have one. So it really was her biggest question: Does he even need to eat? Was that just his habit? Were all the times he whined about being hungry real or part of his act? This was what she wanted to know most. Not why he hadn’t told her his secret.

Clark came up to hug her from behind. She leaned into it. She was so tired, and she knew he would gain that information by the way she slumped into him to support her.

“Hungry?” he asked, wrapping his arms more securely around her.

“I have been trained into eating,” Lois grumbled.

“That almost sounds like it’s maybe a good thing,” Clark joked. “C’mon, let’s go get something.” He pressed his lips to her hair. 

“Are you hungry?” Lois asked, insanely curious as to what his response would be.

Clark smiled against her. “I can eat.”

“You always can eat,” Lois pointed out.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed. “Ma says I’m a black hole.”

Lois laughed suddenly. “I can see it. The resemblance is striking.” She twisted around in his arms and threaded her hand through his hair. “The inky black curly theme coupled with the way you can inhale things at alarming speed…”

“Black holes are curly?”

“They’re not straight.”

“I think you’re thinking of a galaxy shape…”

“Whatever. It’s space. Close enough.”

“So food?” he reminded.

“Ugh, yes, cowboy, let’s go.”

“Cowboy?”

“You’re country.”

“I’m Midwestern?” He sounded confused.

“There’s a difference?” She didn’t know.

“Oh, let’s just go eat,” Clark grumbled, grabbing her hand. “I’m hungry.”

Lois laughed to herself as Clark tugged her along.

“So… you’re not mad?” Clark asked, looking like he wanted to hug her but thought she might kill him if he tried.

“Not really. I know you had to have had a good reason to not tell me.”

“Really?” Clark looked hesitantly hopeful.

Lois ignored him and pulled into the hug he obviously wanted. Pressed against him this way, this tightly, she could hear the frantic beat of his heart. Bless him, he really was scared. “Honestly, Clark, when I first figured it out, you know what my first thought was?”

“I have no idea,” he confessed.

“I kid you not, it was: ‘does he even need to eat?’ That was my first thought, Clark.”

Clark sobbed a laugh and pressed his face into her hair. “I do need to eat. But like differently,” h mumbled into her crown.

Lois squeezed him tighter. “You’re going to explain that to me later. Not now.”

He hummed in agreement. They were silent for a minute. “I have to ask.”

“If you ask me one more time if I’m mad, I will stab you.”

Clark chuckled. “No, no,” he assured.

He was silent again and so she prompted: “What?”

“Are you hungry?”

Lois threw her head back in laughter. Clark joined in shortly.

“Yeah, I can eat.”

“Good,” Clark nodded curtly, adopting a serious expression. “I can, too.”

Lois was locked in on her most recent article.

Clark slapped a sandwich in front of her, kissed her cheek, and demanded: “Eat.”

“Wha?”

He kissed her on the lips when she turned her head. “Eat,” he repeated, nudging the sandwich closer. “It’s lunchtime.”

She didn’t need more prompting. She kissed him this time and quickly tore into her lunch.

Clark walked up to her desk right as she was starting to stand up. “Dinner?” he suggested.

“Where were you thinking?” Lois asked, stretching after having been at her desk for several hours.

“Ma’s cooking,” he replied. “Figured we could fly by.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful. But we’re gonna fly by my apartment first, because I am not wearing this.”

Clark laughed. “That’s fair. I’ll drop you off and go back to mine, too.”

“And then be back in a jiffy?” she filled in his conclusion. Clark nodded.

And later that night, after an excellent home-made meal courtesy of Ma Kent, Clark and Lois wandered through the fields, admiring the sunset.

And Lois had never been more glad she agreed to go get food with Clark than that day, because she returned to the farmhouse with a gorgeous rock on her finger.

“I don’t think we should have food at the wedding,” Lois deadpanned as she and Clark flipped through brochures.

“We’re getting a divorce, then,” Clark replied, not even looking up from the pamphlet he was browsing. He held up his hand. “Gimme.”

Lois gasped in fake outrage before excitedly suggesting, “What if we did a conglomeration of our favorite food places?”

Clark dropped the pamphlet and his outstretched hand. His eyes were wide, matching the grin on his face. “I knew I asked you to marry me for a reason!”

They laughed themselves sore as they started organizing their catering.

There was one memorable occasion when Lois was the one to initiate food. She stood from her desk, walked over to her husband’s, spun his chair around (read: tried to spin it around and he indulged her), and sat sideways in his lap.

“Can we do dinner with your parents?”

Clark kissed her before responding, “Sure, when?”

“Tonight?” she suggested.

“I don’t know what Ma is cooking,” Clark said, frowning. “But I can ask.”

“Why don’t you ask if we can bring dinner?” Lois suggested. “And we can get some nice takeout. Treat them to a Metropolis-only kinda thing.”

Clark shrugged. “Okay. What’s the occasion?”

Lois placed their interlocked hands over her slightly swollen belly. “I think we have some fantastic news to share.”

Chapter Text

“How about I make some dinner?” Clark suggested, voice soft, making his way through the kitchen to the fridge.

Lois blamed her post-mental breakdown brain for her inability to come up with a list of edible foods in her fridge.

Clark opened the door and took stock of what was available. He didn’t grab anything right away. Then he tentatively flipped through what she had. “Lois,” he started slowly, as if he was trying to not upset her, “When was the last time you went through your fridge?”

“I dunno, couple weeks. Everything should be fine.”

“Well, this cheese is expire—a couple weeks?! Lois, no.”

“It isn’t expired. That’s the best by date,” Lois protested.

“I know there’s a deference between best by and expiration date. But Lois, I didn’t even check the date. This is moldy.” Clark held up a pack of sliced cheese. It very obviously was covered in mold.

“Oh.”

“I’m going to order takeout. And then I’m going through your fridge. This moldy cheese does not bode well, babe.”

“It’s just the cheese that’s gone bad.”

Clark sighed. “Lois, honey, love of my life. Do you have any idea how long cheese keeps? Way longer than most other foods.”

“I want Mexican,” she declared, crossing her arms.

Clark sighed again and came over to pull her into a hug. He kissed her forehead. “I love you, honey.”

Lois buried her face in his chest. “I love you, too,” she sighed.

Clark squeezed her once and then went to lean against the counter to order Mexican for them both. That done, he returned to the fridge. And he pulled basically everything out.

“This only expired two days ago,” Lois read, pulling a half-eaten pack of bacon towards her.

“That is an expiration date, not a best by,” Clark replied, half-buried in her fridge. He surfaced with three bottles of sauces she didn’t remember having, let alone buying. “These all expired three years ago.”

“Ew.”

Clark huffed in a way that suggested he was thinking ‘Yeah, ew.’

“Wait, wait,” Lois went to grab something from him, he gave it to her, “this is best by February 23. It should still be good.”

“Lo,” Clark snatched the jar from her hands. “It’s almost July.”

“Yeah, it’s only been a couple months.”

“It’s been too many months.” He dropped the jar in her trash can while looking her in the eye. “That’s probably a biohazard.”

“No, the biohazard was the cheese.”

“I’m not convinced you only have one toxically expired foodstuff.”

“Clark,” Lois huffed, “You’re invulnerable. You could eat anything in there and be fine.”

“But then I’d risk exposing you to contaminants!” Clark joked. “And I have to be honest, I don’t love fuzzy cheese. It’s a texture thing.”

By the end of the night, Clark had gone through her entire fridge, freezer, and pantry. The only food left in her apartment was their Mexican takeout and her ground coffee and powdered creamer.

“I think expired food might have been why you’ve been so exhausted lately,” Clark theorized.

“No,” Lois decided. “I haven’t eaten here in weeks.”

Clark just rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

Lois was basking in the warm glow of the mid-morning sun coming through the bedroom window that Clark had undoubtably opened at some point after he’d woken up.

Speaking of Clark, Lois brushed a hand over his side of the bed to find the sheets cool to touch. Which was extremely disappointing as Clark ran hotter than a human, and his spot took longer to cool after he left it.

She was bleary-eyed and bedheaded beyond belief, not having yet moved since she’d discovered Clark’s absence, when she heard quiet shuffling in the apartment.

Ah, she thought, I don’t have to wonder where he is anymore.

It didn’t take him long to wander on into the Master Bedroom. He quietly opened the door in an effort to not disturb her. When he saw that she was awake, if barely, he smiled brightly yet softly at her and murmured a greeting.

Lois blinked and sent him a confused look. “Harmarmanoff?” she repeated, bewildered.

Clark laughed softly and repeated, louder this time, “Hello, my love.”

“Oh!” Lois laughed, slumping the short distance back to her pillow. “That makes so much more sense. I’m not awake.”

“I mumbled it anyway,” Clark soothed, moving further into the room towards her. He offered her a coffee. “This might help your side of the problem, though.”

Lois sat up and accepted his offering. “Ah, my true love.”

“Me? Or the coffee?” Clark jested as he walked around to the other side of the bed.

“Yes.”

He sat down then leaned closer to her, resting his head on her arm. She took the opportunity to run a hand through his hair, making him purr in delight.

“I’ve been replaced by coffee.”

“Nonsense. Coffee can’t answer my beck and call. You’re still good for that,” Lois comforted, trying to not laugh.

Clark sighed in relief. “Oh, good. I don’t have to go find a new spouse.”

“Oh, because you’re so codependent.”

“Yes. I can’t be alone. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” Clark deadpanned. Though it was a joke, there was truth to it: Clark Kent did not like being alone. Sure, there were times when he needed solitude, but solitude was different than lonely. Lois joked that Kryptonians were pack animals, based on the way Clark always was with someone he considered family.

“It’s funny,” Lois mumbled after a beat of silence had passed.

“What? That Superman is codependent?”

“I mean, technically you’re not…”

“But it sometimes seems that way.”

“You’re just social,” Lois decided.

“With like, six people,” Clark interjected.

“Six?”

“You, Ma, Pa, Diana, Bruce… okay, so five. And the occasional gaggle of other Justice Leaguers or Planet guys.”

Clark was being adorable, in Lois’ opinion. He made her giggle. “You’re a pack animal, I swear it.”

Clark sighed, nuzzling closer to her. “At this point, if someone told me that was true and not a hypothesis, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

Lois sipped her coffee, enjoying the slow morning with her husband. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Clark mumbled, largely due to the way his cheek was smushed from where it was pressed against her arm.

Lois smiled and continued playing with his hair while drinking her coffee. After a while, she was pretty sure he fell asleep thanks to her ministrations.

Clark had been out gathering evidence on a story he was working. Upon his return to the office, Jimmy stopped him to warn him that Lois had gotten a story killed and had been in a sour mood all morning. Clark thanked Jimmy for the heads up and continued on his way to their shared office.

Clark softly knocked on the door before opening it. Passing through the doorway, he greeted his wife in a way he hoped would lighten the mood: “Harmarmanoff.”

Lois, who had looked up from her computer screen at his knock, stared at him for a beat before huffing a reluctant laugh. “Yeah, harmarmanoff,” she returned, smiling slightly.

“I’m sorry about your story. Can you help me with mine?”

“You don’t need any help.”

“Maybe not, but I’d like it.”

It wasn’t long after that before the mishearing became a thing between them, an inside joke of sorts. It became their own special private greeting.

And during one odd instance where Clark hadn’t been sure Lois was his Lois—and not a Lois from another universe—it had been the answer to the question: “What is something only my Lois would know?” And similarly, when Clark miraculously returned from death, and Lois has poised the same question—“What is something only the real Clark would know?”—it had been Clark’s answer, too; an answer that was twofold because he’d included that it had been her answer given to him when their roles had been reversed.

Sometimes, they’d say “harmarmanoff” as almost a code word. When undercover, if Clark said the made-up word in a bright, cheery tone, like he was greeting her, it meant someone was listening in and/or they weren’t safe to speak freely. On the other hand, if he said it in a low, husky tone, like he was trying to convince her to join him in bed, it meant they were safe from eavesdroppers and/or lipreaders.

Or sometimes, they used it just as something to break tensions with, despite it technically being a greeting. When Lois did something particularly reckless and frankly stupid, and after Clark gave her the lecture of a lifetime, when the room was taut with friction and frustrating silence, Lois would offer a humble, “Harmarmanoff,” which would get Clark to breathe a laugh and grin wryly before giving in and kissing her deeply. Or when Clark got Kryptonite poisoning and Lois was anxiously waiting for him to wake up, he’d greet her with, “Harmarmanoff,” as a way of telling her it was going to be okay.

And when they welcomed Jonathan Samuel into the world, they did so by simultaneously cooing, “Harmarmanoff.”

Chapter Text

Undercover operations were always dangerous. But Lois loved them. There was some different kind of thrill to dressing out of character and assuming a new identity.

As it was, she was Lara Hudson, a down on her luck businesswoman who was desperate for a quick buck. Which was why she found herself in the seediest club Metropolis had to offer.

Lara Hudson would be making her way to the bar and drowning a round of shots to try and forget her troubles. Lois Lane found this very easy to do, since she was trying to drown the gut-wrenching fight she’d had with Clark three hours ago.

He was working a story that ran parallel to hers. They’d started off chasing leads together and what they’d found had birthed a second story. And what Clark had been working on had differed greatly to what she had. He had told her it was too dangerous to go undercover at that moment and it would be better to wait, to build a profile. She disagreed. And they’d argued about it. It wasn’t often Lois saw veins popping in his neck, and she found herself downing shots faster than she thought she would.

It was very much to her advantage that she could hold her liquor. Because the way she was drinking would undoubtably tell everyone watching her that she was going to quickly get hammered while she was actually going to stay almost completely sober.

As it was, she was trying to catch the attention of Toni Taylor. Word on the street was that Toni had recently come into possession of the head chair of the Metro Gang. And being a woman in a male-dominated field, she might just be looking for some henchwomen to help balance the scales some.

Lois had just finished her second round of shots when Toni materialized on the other side of the bar. Which was slightly shocking, but Lois supposed the woman technically owned the joint, so could go wherever she wanted.

“What’s got you drinking like this?” Toni started.

“Oh, you know, been a rough week, month, year, really,” Lois answered, waving her hand dismissively. “And I thought I could drown my sorrows for a night free of worry.”

“Well, you might have just come to the right place for some new luck,” Toni suggested. “I’m Toni, the owner, and I could use some sisters in this boy world.”

Lois pretended to laugh disbelievingly. “I know my way around the bottom of a bottle, but I’m not sure how much good I’ll be elsewhere.”

“Well, what do you do?” Toni asked, curious as to what position Lois could fill.

“Oh, I dunno. I have a business degree and was in finance before I lost my job, so I must not be very good. But I’ve hated the business for a while anyway, and was hoping I could publish my novel before I ran out of money.”

“Your novel?” That seemed to intrigue Toni, surprising Lois a bit.

“Yeah, just some mushy romance. Strange, because that’s not the story of my love life.” Clark was the romantic. She enjoyed his romancing, specifically, but generally didn’t in all of her previous relationships. So she was being honest.

“Oh?” And that was even more intriguing to Toni. That made sense, though. Male-dominated field and all.

Lois groaned and briefly buried her face in her arms. “I had the worst red-faced fight with my… my…” Lois floundered, genuinely trying to find something to call Clark. She couldn’t very well say husband, since that would ruin the character, or at least make Lara Hudson’s story more difficult.

“Current fuck?” Toni provided.

“Yeah,” Lois grumbled, “that.”

“Well, I might be able to put you somewhere…” Toni trailed off.

“Lara,” Lois provided. “Lara Hudson.”

“Lara. That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you,” Lois smiled slightly. “It’s technically a family name.” Which was true. It was Clark’s biological mother’s first name, combined with Clark’s adopted mother’s middle name. Clearly, her husband was on the forefront of her mind, right now.

“Well, tonight’s on me, Lara. Go crazy and we’ll start after you’ve sobered up tomorrow.”

“Sounds great,” Lois replied, actually meaning it. She’d gotten her in, now she could actually drown her sorrows. “Thank you.”

Toni patted the bar top twice and stood out of the bent posture she’d assumed while talking to Lois. “Of course. Us girls gotta stick together.”

“Cheers to that,” Lois muttered, lifting her empty shot glass.

Toni gave her another round and poured one shot for herself. They clinked glasses and drank.

Lois worked her way through the rest of the round before looking around the club. She almost instantly clocked Clark Kent, wearing the tightest denim jeans she’d ever seen him wear, a white top of some kind, and a worn black leather jacket. He looked amazing. Lois had to remind herself she was mad at him, at first.

But that was quick to resume, since he was the one that said they shouldn’t go undercover yet. So what the hell was he doing here? He could have just hovered outside via x-ray vision.

She left her post at the bar and made her way through the club to him. It didn’t take him long to notice her. She wondered if he really was surprised to see her.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed.

“I am here,” he spoke lowly, something almost like anger in his voice, “as per my instructions.” Translation: Perry sent him in. He leaned over her and braced an arm on the wall above her head. “I’m not following you, if that’s what you think. I didn’t even know you were here.”

That made her only slightly less mad. She was still fuming over their fight. And now she was also pissed that he had the audacity to look so edible right now. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stuff him in the nearest coat closet or tell him to go fuck himself.

The addition of Toni Taylor’s presence allowed her to ponder this issue for later.

“Hello, handsome,” Toni practically purred. “Do you two know each other?”

Clark didn’t know her cover. She didn’t know his. This was dangerous territory.

“We’re… acquainted,” Clark admitted, almost grudgingly, straightening off the wall slightly.

“Exes?” Toni guessed.

Lois’ gut reaction was to bury her face in either Clark’s shoulder or chest in embarrassment. But she was one, pissed at him currently and two, not supposed to have that kind of relationship with him.

Clark’s face twisted in a something strange and impossible to read. Then he very obviously checked Lois out from head to toe and back up again, sleazily stopping at her hips, breasts, and neck. Anyone else and Lois would be fuming. But this was Clark, her husband and best friend. She knew he was doing this as part of a cover. But she also wouldn’t put it past him to be doing this just to wind her up. And worst of all, it was working. She was turned on.

Clark let his gaze linger just a bit longer on Lois’ lips before he turned back to face Toni. “It’s… complicated,” he announced.

Toni looked very much like she believed it.

Except it wasn’t complicated at all. They were both undercover, ironically for different reasons, and they were married, and currently pissed at each other. And Lois currently, desperately, wanted to find out if angry make-up sex was as good as people said it was.

“Well, I’m already familiar with Lara, here,” Clark did an excellent job, in Lois’ harsh opinion, of not jerking at his biological mother’s name. “But I don’t know your name.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to handsome,” he nearly purred. Lois wanted to slap him. And then stick her tongue down his throat. And she wanted to mark him up, dammit! He was her man! And damn invulnerable skin from preventing her from making it obvious.

Toni laughed, pleasantly surprised by his response. “I’m sure.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Kal,” he answered, shocking Lois. She didn’t know if he’d decided that now, so they could have a bit of a theme going, or if he’d already planned this. Knowing Clark, it had been his plan since Perry had assigned him undercover.

“Kal,” Toni repeated. “Strong name.”

Clark smirked, looking smug. “Glad you think so.” To anyone who didn’t know Clark, it would look like he was flexing. To Lois, she knew he was just not hiding his musculature for once.

Toni was checking him out, albeit a lot less obviously than Clark had checked Lois out. “And the last name to go with it?” she prompted.

“Ellison.”

Oh, he was not being subtle.

“Kal Ellison,” Toni repeated, obviously trying it out. “You know, I seem to be filling jobs tonight, if you’re interested.”

Lois wanted to bash her head onto something hard. Multiple times.

“Maybe. I could use some spending money.”

“What’s your current practice?”

“Personal trainer. Might make a good bouncer. Or security.”

Toni gave him a sultry once over. “Definitely security.”

Clark looked smug to someone who didn’t know him. But the way he held his shoulders told Lois exactly how uncomfortable he was with this entire situation. She felt the smallest, tiniest bit sorry for him.

“Well, I will let you two get reacquainted and will see you both tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes ma’am,” Clark agreed, tone low.

Lois let Toni get an appropriate distance away before she grabbed Clark’s bicep and tugged him toward one of the rooms the club offered.

Clark followed easily. Of course he did.

“Are we good here?” she asked once they were shut inside one. He would know what she meant.

He took a moment to respond, using his ears and his vision to check the room for bugs. “Yes. We’re good.”

 “What the hell, Clark?!”

“Which part are you questioning?”

“All of it!” Lois threw her hands wide and spun away from him. She marched a few steps before rounding on him. “What are you doing here? Why? Did you seriously call yourself Kal Ellison?! That’s not even close to subtle!”

“Kal and Ellison are both normal names. There’s nothing suspicious about that.” She hated that technically he was right. Besides, she knew better than almost anyone how much he loved to troll people. “Perry sent me in after I submitted a first draft to him. He agreed that it was too dangerous right now, but also saw why you wanted to go in. So he sent me to make sure you’d be okay and to also try to get closer to the story. This was the first place I checked. I honestly didn’t know you were here.” He sounded peeved.

“And what the fuck is this outfit?” Lois demanded.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” Clark snarled.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” she growled back.

Clark stepped closer and straightened his posture, towering over her. It was a little intimidating and very hot. She was never going to admit it to him. But he knew anyway.

Lois had had enough. They’d already screamed at each other—a rare occasion for Clark, who almost never lost his nerve with her—and she didn’t want a repeat. She honestly didn’t think she could take it. She hated being at odds with Clark, let alone getting him so ticked off that he relinquished his legendary control on his temper to let her have a piece of his mind. So, in order to nip the building argument before it could erupt, she grabbed his face and furiously pressed her lips to his.

He nearly instantaneously gripped her hips roughly and harshly pulled her tight to his hard body. She jumped up, letting him lift her so that she could reach his mouth better. He caught on immediately and supported her, which allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist.

They separated for a brief moment.

“I’m very upset with you,” Clark muttered, voice low and rough.

“Same,” Lois returned before reattaching their lips.

They definitely got reacquainted with each other. And Lois hated when Clark was mad at her, but at least she could confirm that angry make-up sex was actually good.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane carried a torch for Superman for a very long time. Not enough to be embarrassed by it, but longer than any other crush she’d ever had.

But to be fair, who didn’t have a crush on the Man of Steel? He was classically handsome, intriguing, and a literal hero. Plus, he seemed to have great manners.

It also didn’t hurt that he always seemed to make time for her. And what woman wouldn’t care for a (handsome) guy that would treat her right?

Plus, there was a little bit of awe factor when the wind blew his cape in just the right way. Or hell, the cape itself, draped majestically over those broad, muscular shoulders, was just so… nice.

Superman was definitely easy on the eyes, that’s for damn sure.

And for a while, Lois thought that maybe Superman liked her back. He would give only her interviews, after all. He wouldn’t go anywhere else.

But then he started talking to other reporters. And Lois figured that he probably just came to her first because she had an excellent reputation for reporting the truth and nothing but the truth (she didn’t know it was him attempting to keep her safer).

Then, the Justice League became less of a rumor and a shadowy idea of a group of superheroes and turned into an established organization of metahumans who were committed to keeping with world safe, both from foreign and domestic hazards.

And the Justice League Trinity became the world’s most favorite heroes. Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman.

She was a goddess. She was gorgeous, tall, muscular, incredibly powerful. She had the exact same ideals as Superman. And was a warrior princess.

Lois couldn’t beat that. She was just an army brat turned reporter trying to do honest work.

Superman, with all his power and his marriage to his ‘never-ending battle for truth and justice,’ surely would go for someone who was just like him. Superman seemed like the type of guy who wouldn’t want a power imbalance in a relationship and would be hard pressed to find that with his superhero status and all his incredible powers. Wonder Woman would be the perfect fit. Lois Lane… not so much.

Having a crush on Superman got Lois to really face her values in terms of what she was looking for in a man. And she eventually concluded that she wanted a good, honest guy who genuinely cared about others and wanted to help.

Superman made a massive splash on the world. A lot of people were changing for the better to live up to these very ideals that he displayed.

Which meant there were more fish in her sea, then.

But honestly, this opened her eyes to what was right in front of her.

Clark Kent was a good, honest guy who genuinely cared about others and wanted to help. Even if no one realized he was doing anything.

And he was also a reporter trying to do honest work. And her best friend. They were alike in that way, like Wonder Woman and Superman were alike.

Superman was this unattainable god of a man. Clark Kent was well within her reach, and it didn’t hurt that he seemed to enjoy her company (and had a massive crush on her… according to the office rumor mill).

Finding out Clark Kent was Superman was quite the shock, for a number of reasons. If she were honest, she’d known for a while but hadn’t wanted to face that truth because of all the implications.

One of which was: Clark Kent was an unattainable god of a man. She had been fooling herself to think he might actually be interested in her. He had Wonder Woman, after all.

So had she misunderstood what they had going on?

She hadn’t confronted him about this groundbreaking conclusion she’d come to, but this question made her want to.

But she didn’t have to bring up him being Superman to ask him what kind of relationship they had now.

So she asked him, “What are we doing?”

And, okay, so maybe asking that completely out of the blue wasn’t fair to him, because his confused reply of, “Going over our notes?” was entirely reasonable.

“No, I meant, us, our relationship.” He stared deeply into her eyes, like he was trying to read her soul, or something. She realized this meant she had his full, undivided attention. And wasn’t that something. “How would you define us?”

“I thought—I thought we, uh, were,” he laughed nervously, “um, dating? Seeing each other?” He dropped his gaze. “But if that isn’t—”

“No! No!” she interrupted. “Don’t even finish that. I just… I guess I’m just insecure and needed to hear you say it,” she blurted a plausible excuse. It was true, in a way. She was insecure, as childish as that seemed. Because, again, why would Superman be interested in her?

His face softened—his whole body softened, really—and he smiled kindly at her. “I’ll make sure to be more communicative, then, from here on out.” He cleared his throat, with a small, cheeky grin on his face, and sat up a little straighter. “I have to ask, Lois… would you like to be my girlfriend? I’d like that.”

Lois smiled softly; his grin was contagious. “Yeah, I’d like that, too.”

He nodded once, curtly. “Then maybe we should go out for dinner to make it official.”

“And leave our notes?”

He laughed. “One, notes can wait. But two, its barely past lunchtime, Lo.”

“I was just checking to make sure what your priorities are, Smallville,” she lied, obviously.

“Sure, Lois, sure,” he chuckled, turning back to their notes.

He finally told her what she’d already known. That he was Superman.

He knew she had a lot of questions, but he seemed to be incredibly taken aback by, “Why me?”

“…How do you mean?”

“What makes me so special? I mean, Wonder Woman seems like a better fit.”

Clark sighed, almost fondly. “Lois, it… first off, that is an injustice to Diana to just say I’d maybe like her better. She has feelings, too. And anyway, we mutually agree that we’re siblings, not romantic in any way. She’s got a boo, who is also not a metahuman, by the way…”

“Hold on, what?”

“Yeah, no, his name is Steve. He’s military? I’m honestly not really sure what he does, specifically, but I think Diana’s kept that private…” he trailed off, clearly trying to wrack his brain to make sure he hadn’t forgotten what Steve does. “Yeah, no, she hasn’t shared. But anyway, Lois, I’m not looking for someone with superpowers, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Well, now you do,” he observed with a small shrug.

“Then what are you looking for?”

“Someone who makes me feel normal,” he replied instantly, barely letting her finish her question.

That gave Lois pause. She’d never considered that she made Clark feel normal.

“But wouldn’t someone else with powers…”

“No.” He took a breath. “I mean, I guess, in theory. But that definitely isn’t a rule.”

“I make you feel normal?” she asked, needing to hear him confirm it.

“Yes. Lois, you constantly make fun of me. You steal my coffee and my food all the time. You have stolen no less than three of my high school hoodies from my parents’ house. You call me ‘farmboy’ and ‘Smallville’ and ‘Kansas’ and an assortment of other country boy themed names. You punch me when you get excited or mad at me. You shove me and drag me around after you. It… yeah, you make me feel normal, Lois. I mean, the first time we met you ignored me entirely. I wasn’t anything special.”

“And you liked that?”

“Well, I did think it was rude, but you treat everyone that way.”

“I didn’t know you were a superpowered alien.”

“Fair. But you treated me the exact same after you figured things out. I had no idea you had. So clearly you didn’t think it very hard to look past that.”

She hadn’t thought of that.

“I make you feel normal,” she repeated again, this time to make sure it was settling in.

Clark nodded. “Yes. And I can list more ways, if you want.”

Lois laughed and brought a hand up to the back of his neck so she could play with the curls there. “No, maybe another time. I have another question.”

Clark hummed in response.

“Would it make you feel not-normal if I made you run errands for me at superspeed?”

Clark barked a laugh. “I dunno. I think errands are a pretty normal thing. I guess you could say that’s just using your resources.”

“Well in that case, I will be taking advantage of this new resource I have.” The unspoken but you tell me if it gets to weird was obvious between them.

Clark just kissed her in reply, smile tugging at his lips.

Chapter Text

The first time Lois found Clark falling asleep, she was not happy about it.

Clark had been her partner for about three months by that point. She hated to admit it, but Clark had become a pretty good friend to her. That meant she didn’t feel weird working late nights with him at either one of their apartments.

They had gotten in the habit of creating murder boards during their late night sessions, made things easier to follow when they didn’t have the advantage of a conference room table to spread out on, or their combined desks. It was for this reason they both had large cork boards in their apartments.

Lois had been facing the murder board, rambling about some pieces of evidence, thinking out loud to try and connect the dots. She usually spoke her thoughts; this helped her find patterns and connections, but it also allowed the opportunity for Clark to point out something he found in the stream of her logic. But he had been strangely silent. When she turned to see why he was so quiet, she expected to see him thinking hard or staring at some other evidence they hadn’t tacked to the board yet. She had not in a million years anticipated him to be chin to chest, fast asleep. And she had slammed the heaviest book she could find down hard on the coffee table, jerking him from sleep.

“I know you did not just fall asleep on me, Kent,” she hissed, furious that he wasn’t as invested in this as she was. She didn’t think for a second that he was simply that exhausted.

“Sorry, sorry,” Clark had mumbled, sitting up and fruitlessly rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I wasn’t sleeping! I was just… trying to… meditate to try to connect some things.”

That was the worst excuse she’d ever heard. “It better not happen again.”

The second time it happened was also during a late-night session, nearly a year later. She had been flipping through an old phone book, trying to connect some dots by retracing history. Clark was supposed to be using the Google to do something similar.

They hadn’t spoken in a while, but Lois broke the silence. “Hey, I think I found something.”

Clark didn’t make a single noise to confirm he’d heard her.

“Clark? I found—” She found him asleep is what she found.

She hadn’t noticed before because he was hunched forward, leaning toward his laptop to use it. His left arm was resting on his knee like he was about to reach forward to scroll down the page. His right elbow was braced on his other knee so that his hand could support his head. Lois had seen him do this many different times as he thought something through or read something in depth, so she hadn’t thought anything of it when seeing him in her periphery. But his eyes were closed, and his face was a type of smooth only achieved while asleep. Not to mention his laptop screen was dark from inactivity.

“Clark, I know you’re not asleep right now,” she almost snarled.

Clark eyes opened slowly. “No, no,” he mumbled, voice cracking from disuse… or sleep. “I’m awake.” His left arm moved to wake his screen. He dropped his right arm briefly to use his fingerprint to unlock the computer. “Just contemplating some things. What’s up?”

“I found something,” Lois repeated, willing to ignore his nap.

Three months later, Lois returned to the Daily Planet after a long morning of collecting more quotes from the people who used to live in the apartments that had been destroyed during an arson turned raging inferno. Most of what she collected had been accounts of Superman having worked tirelessly to evacuate everyone, put out the fires, and help with the cleanup and recovery process. Her sources all agreed that Superman had been on the scene helping nonstop for two days. She believed it. She’d been chasing this story for the same amount of time. She’d hardly slept since she was so consumed with collecting quotes and information from first responders, police, witnesses, residents, victims, and desperately trying to catch something from Superman, too.

So she was exhausted when she walked into the Daily Planet for the first time in days.

And she wasn’t thrilled to see Clark Kent slumped at his desk, passed out, when she got to her desk. She set her purse down heavily before marching over behind Clark’s desk. She spun his chair, shocking him back to the land of the living. She felt a brief stab of guilt when she saw he looked even more exhausted than she was.

“Wha—? Oh, hi, Lois. I didn’t see ya walk in.” And his thick Midwestern accent was a dead giveaway that he’d been out cold.

“What have you been doing?” she asked, wondering what excuse he’d give her as to why he was napping at his desk.

“I worked on our other three stories. If you wanna,” he interrupted himself with a yawn that he desperately tried to hide, “look over them, we could probably send them to print today.”

Three stories was a lot for one person to wrap up in two days. But he shouldn’t have been this exhausted by them. But he was being professional, so she would too. “Okay. Do I have them?”

Clark nodded, subtly trying to blink sleep away from his eyes.

“For God’s sake, Smallville, go get a coffee.”

Clark mumbled something under his breath as she went back to her desk. She couldn’t have heard him right because it sounded something like ‘curse of invulnerability’ and the ‘ineffectiveness of caffeine.’

Twenty minutes later when he still hadn’t moved to get coffee and was sluggishly working on editing her most recent copy, she got him a coffee instead. It was a bit odd, this role reversal… he usually brought her the coffee. She gave him her triple shot special.

A lot of things were aligning for her. Things about Clark. She knew a lot of what he said didn’t match up to what actually happened. And for a while, she was willing to ignore this. But since they’d been getting a lot closer, it had bugged her. Didn’t he feel safe letting her know what really was going on half the time?

So she started taking notes, mentally, of course. She didn’t want to risk Clark finding hardcopy notes of her study of him. Not that Clark would go through her things, they just shared notes all the time. She was too all over the place to have a separate notebook for something else, and he would know this and wrongfully assume she hadn’t made an exception.

The first thing she started tracking was when Clark was burnt-out exhausted. Because he preached her setting limits for herself far too frequently for him to work himself into such a state of exhaustion that he fell asleep at his desk. And sure, the falling asleep at her apartment during late night sessions was annoying but understandable. But he usually kept up with her, easily at that.

And tracking this quickly uncovered a pattern. But Lois didn’t want to believe it. It was correlation, not causation, right? Because no way was Clark Kent always bone tired following incidents where Superman was seen working tirelessly or battles where Superman was faced with a hefty chunk of Kryptonite. Or well, her pattern suggested yes way. So really: no way was Clark Kent Superman.

Naturally, she started looking closer.

When Clark was tired, he never went for something caffeinated. At least, not at first. He only did reach for a coffee or a coke or something like that when someone—namely, her—suggested he drink something that would liven him up a bit.

Which, if one was a superpowered alien that was very notably invulnerable, it would make sense that one would not reach for caffeinated drinks because, presumably, one would be immune to the effects of caffeine.

But Clark Kent was not a superpowered alien. Clark Kent was the regular run-of-the-mill hick from Nowheresville, Kansas. Right?

But there was that one time she’d misheard him muttering something about the curse of invulnerability… and how caffeine was useless for him.

She sat at her desk waiting for Clark to come in that morning. This would be a good test. Superman had taken a Kryptonite-tipped missile yesterday evening. Witnesses saw him leave the scene and disappear into the dusky sky, so he was clearly going to be okay. But he might be out of commission for a while.

So when Clark Kent showed up to work, like usual, it would disprove the conclusion she had to have wrongfully concluded.

Except that Clark was late. He was never late. It was a quarter past nine and he still wasn’t in. And the only times he didn’t show up until later where when something happened. As in, he needed to divert to chase a story. But he always texted her when that happened.

Now she was getting antsy. The missile incident, while it was her chance to disprove her Clark Might Be Superman theory, was also another story in and of itself. It could very well be their chance to nail Luthor for once. And she needed Clark’s help. But they couldn’t just waste all this time.

After five minutes, Lois decided to get to the bottom of it. A short trip to Perry’s office later, she had learned Clark had called in sick. And by this point, her brain had spiraled so far away from her theory that her only concern was: he didn’t tell me?

She checked her phone anyway. Nope. Nothing. So she texted him. The results of the ensuing conversation were not boding well for her. She decided she could get to the missile story later. Her most pressing concern was Clark’s wellbeing.

And after she’d let herself in, she knew she’d never seen the man look more exhausted than in that moment.

After she was confident he was starting to feel better, Lois reflected that maybe her finding out that Clark Kent really was Superman in this way was for the best. She’d been too worried about his health that she didn’t have time to be upset about it. But his long nap sure provided her the opportunity soak in this mind-boggling revelation.

The first time she saw Clark asleep at his desk after learning her theory was in fact true, she took a second to realize that Clark Kent, the Superman, could in fact work himself to this point of complete exhaustion.

She sat at her desk, slowly going through her notes for as long as she could before she decided she needed to send Clark home.

Walking to his desk, she jostled his shoulder. Or tried to. The man was impossible to move. How had she never noticed sooner that he was Superman?

“Clark,” she whispered softly. “Clark!”

Clark grumbled something and nuzzled his head deeper into his folded arms. Lois sat back and watched what he would do. Exactly five seconds later, he shot up, having realized he was at work.

“Oh, crap,” he mumbled, sleep evident in his voice. “Lois,” he greeted.

“I think you should go home.”

Clark shook his head. “No, I’m okay. I promise,” he insisted.

“I doubt coffee’ll help you.”

“No. But really, I’m good.”

“Go stand by the window,” Lois ordered, hoping sunlight might help him.

Clark smiled softly, ducking his head. But he obeyed. He stopped by the coffee station first and fixed himself a cup before leaning against the big window. He did a remarkable job of making it look like the coffee was what was recharging him, not the sunlight.

Lois and Clark ended their date night by watching a movie on Clark’s couch. He had the bigger tv and better sound system. And Lois had to admit his couch was also considerably comfier.

They picked out a movie that she’d been excited to watch. Lois felt a little bad forcing Clark to watch a movie he didn’t seem to care even a little about, but Clark had quickly assured her it was fine, and he was just happy to spend time with her.

Lois had been sneaking glances at him throughout the movie. To his credit, he seemed mildly invested in the story. And then she’d noticed that he’d fallen asleep. She bit her lip, trying to not make a sound. He was so precious to her.

She reached for the remote that she’d left on the arm of the couch and turned the tv off.

Clark made a gasping sound and sat up a little. “Why’d you turn it off?” he asked, voice deep and husky.

She loved his voice like this, she decided. “Because you were asleep.”

“Nuh uh,” he argued. “Just resting my eyes. Turn it back on,” he requested.

Lois acquiesced and settled back in against Clark’s side. Five minutes later, he was out cold again. Lois laughed quietly to herself and finished the movie. He didn’t budge when she sat up nor when she vacated her spot.

She returned to the couch after she’d used the bathroom and changed into some of his clothes that she was repurposing for pajamas. He seemed fine where he was. His couch was comfortable, and he was invulnerable. He’d be fine. So she didn’t feel bad claiming the bed.

And she definitely had no regrets when she woke up halfway through the night to Clark enveloping her in his strong arms.

She hummed when he nuzzled into her neck. He pressed his lips gently to her jaw. “Good night,” she whispered.

“G’night,” he murmured.

Lois definitely could get used to this.

Chapter Text

It really had been love at first sight. For Clark, that is. He’d been sitting in his interview with Perry White, making a case as to why he should be hired, when Lois Lane had charged into the office complaining about a problem in her story. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was beautiful. And she was outspoken and passionate.

And Perry White was introducing them.

And Lois Lane couldn’t care less. Until Perry White assigned Clark to Lois Lane’s side for her to show him the ropes. And then Lois Lane was furious.

And Clark was a little scared and a little turned on. She was beautiful when she was angry.

When he said he couldn’t take his eyes off her, he meant it. Because when she stormed out of Perry White’s office, he was quick to follow after her.

She slammed her notebooks on her desk and angrily pointed at the desk next to hers.

“Been empty for a while,” she’d said. “Guess it’s yours now.”

He decided he liked this desk very much. It had a great view, what with it being directly beside a large window, which had an excellent view of the city. But also, mostly because it was nearest to Lois Lane’s desk. And had a clear view of her.

That wasn’t creepy. He didn’t mean it in a creepy way! Honest!

Clark Kent was the type of person who would stare off into space while trying to think. It happened all the time. He also did this when he was focusing his hearing. Sure, sometimes he closed his eyes, but that was usually when he was trying to find something very specific, not just listen in. A lot of the time, he stared at something, entirely zoned out, while trying to focus his hearing to check on things.

And he realized, belatedly, that a lot of the time, he stared at Lois Lane. And he only realized this thanks to Jimmy Olsen.

Jimmy had clapped Clark’s shoulder and brought his face closer so he could ask, not in a whisper but definitely in a quiet tone, “Like what you see?”

And Clark knew his ears were turning red. “Huh? Oh, I didn’t—I guess I, uh, zoned out there,” he answered, honestly.

“You sure zone out while looking at Ms. Lane a lot, Mr. Kent,” Jimmy observed.

“Oh, ah, Jimmy, that’s not—that is—ah, Clark is fine, please, Jimmy.”

Jimmy clapped Clark’s shoulder again, winked, and sauntered off.

Lois Lane made the most sense. He knew her reputation and he knew he could trust her. So she was the obvious choice. It definitely wasn’t because he wanted the excuse to spend more time with her. Nor because she was staring at him the way he usually stared at her.

“Could I have a private interview, Superman?” she’d asked.

He’d appeared on the front page a week ago. But he hadn’t answered any questions yet. In truth, because he didn’t know what to say. But also because he didn’t even know how he should go about it. This posed the perfect opportunity to solve that problem. So of course he agreed. It had nothing to do with the way she was admiring her view of him.

“Where would you like to go, Ms. Lane?” he had asked, signaling his agreement to the interview.

“Wherever you’d like,” she suggested.

He’d smiled at her. “Could I show you something?”

“Sure,” she replied, almost laughing.

He stepped closer and gently grasped her waist. “Then hang on,” he warned, waiting for her to get a good grip before he lifted them off the ground. He made sure to not make sudden movements, not wanting to scare her or make her feel unsafe in any way.

He brought them above the clouds. She gasped in delight. The sun had only gone down recently, leaving the city in a pleasant dusk. And Metropolis was aglow with life.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“It’s one of my favorite views,” he admitted honestly.

“One of?” she prompted.

“Well, I can hardly take you to space like this,” he chuckled softly. “That wouldn’t be very safe. But seeing Earth from the moon is always another favorite of mine.”

“Oh, wow,” she gasped, just imagining. “One day, I’d love to see that.”

“As soon as you get ahold of a space suit, I’ll show you,” he promised. “It’s a good reminder for me, I think. From up there, it’s beautiful and all one world. You can’t see the problems and the hurt, only the beauty. It makes it easy to be good, to want to help.”

“That’s beautiful,” she praised. “I wish more people could see Earth the way you do.”

“Me too,” he replied. “I think everyone would be better if they could. I think I’m trying to show them, anyway.”

“Can I quote you?”

“Please do. I know there’s a lot of questions about me. I don’t want to scare anyone. I really am just here to help.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

“It’s that simple?” she probed.

“Does everything need to be complicated?” he returned. Realizing she was getting into interview mode, he took them somewhere more appropriate for that. “This is another good place to enjoy the city,” he mentioned, setting them both down on the roof of the Daily Planet.

“This I appreciated already,” she mentioned. “It doesn’t get old.”

“No,” he agreed, looking at her, “it doesn’t.” He realized that he was being incredibly cheesy. This was practically a scene right out of those awful, predictable romance movies Ma liked to watch. But in that moment, he really didn’t care.

The interview definitely allowed him to spend more time with her. And he definitely soaked up all the attention she gave him. And if he was posturing a little bit, sue him. He’s just a guy trying to impress the lady he likes.

Working alongside Lois Lane was never boring. Particularly when there was an undercover element. Seeing her all dolled up to be a nightclub singer was definitely one of his favorites. And Jimmy had joined Clark in unabashedly checking Lois out. Clark was fairly sure that Jimmy was doing it in part to make fun of Lois and her elaborate getup and also to make fun of Clark and his massive crush on his partner. And of course, Clark was doing it to enjoy the view… and make fun of Lois a little bit.

She was aware of both of them. And while she collected her things and reviewed her notes one last time, she ignored them entirely.

When she first came in, she had clearly only intended for this visit to be a pit-stop. The day before, she’d asked to borrow one of Clark’s suit jackets, which he had unquestionably lended to her. Now he knew why she’d asked for it. It engulfed her completely, effectively hiding most of her outfit. He was resolutely ignoring the things he was thinking and feeling related to her wearing his jacket like this.

When it became obvious that this pit-stop was turning into a bit of a longer stay, she shrugged Clark’s jacket off, revealing just how enticing her costume was. Clark and Jimmy immediately, shamelessly, wolf whistled. Lois flipped them off, which made them laugh.

Clark and Jimmy stage whispered to each other about Lois’ outfit and her hair and her makeup. To their credit, they were pointing out the obvious. She was beautiful. Her makeup and hair were extravagant, and a bit much but definitely made it hard to look away from her.

Despite her ignoring them both, Clark was sure she actually didn’t mind their antics. This wasn’t uncommon, and they were really just hyping her up under the guise of annoying her.

Still, when she tugged Clark’s suit jacket back on and gathered her things, clearly making to leave, she big them farewell by flipping them a double bird.

Jimmy waved cheerily and wandered off to continue doing whatever he’d been doing when he’d stopped to annoy Lois and make fun of Clark. Clark remained unmoving and just watched Lois make her way through the bullpen. He finally resumed his work when the elevator doors shut, blocking his view.

He pointedly didn’t use his powers to continue watching her.

This was probably the first time he didn’t enjoy his view. It was nearing the end of the workday and he and Lois had been tidying up their story before sending it to print.

And just when Clark was about to turn back to Lois to double check that they’d gotten everything, some guy Clark had never seen before was at Lois’ desk. And he was kissing her.

Clark immediately looked away. He didn’t really know what to feel. On one hand, he had this burning jealousy. Which sort of came out of nowhere. Yeah, he had a crush, but this level of intensity for his jealousy blindsided him a little. Then, he was a little crushed because who wanted to see that their already slim chances were even slimmer? And then he was annoyed because the workday hadn’t even officially ended yet, could this horndog not wait until he’d escorted Lois out of the building before sticking his tongue down her throat? Or at least until they’d left Clark’s range of vision.

In that moment, he didn’t care if they’d missed anything. It wasn’t likely that they had, anyhow. He sent the story to print and quickly vacated the premises.

The next day, when Lois arrived slightly later than usual and munching on a chocolate bar, Clark knew she’d broken up with whoever it was that had surprised her at work yesterday.

And if Clark enjoyed his view even more because of that… well, that was his business.

Most people probably wouldn’t have enjoyed the sight of their close friend and crush unconscious in a hospital bed and connected to way too many monitors. But Clark wasn’t most people. And this sight meant that Lois wasn’t in the morgue. Considering what had happened, he was counting his blessings and taking what he could get.

The relief when he’d been let into her room had made him dizzy. He’d quickly planted himself in a chair and hadn’t moved much.

He sat there, contemplating what all he could have done differently to prevent this mess. He’d been lucky that he’d managed to catch her just before she fell into the fire at the imploding factory. But he couldn’t help but microanalyze all the different ways he could have prevented her from ever getting that close to death.

Like he usually did, he was staring off into space as he got lost in his thoughts. And as usual, space was actual Lois. So when her eyes started fluttering Clark snapped back into focus.

He leaned closer to her. He made a motion like he was going to reach for her hand but ultimately decided not to.

“Lois?” he asked, hoping she’d respond a little more.

She moaned. Clark took that as a good sign.

“Lois,” Clark repeated, a little louder. “How are you feeling?”

And then her pretty violet eyes appeared, and Clark couldn’t imagine a more perfect view in that moment.

“C’ark?” she tried, struggling to speak.

Clark reached for some water. There was a small cup with a straw on the bedside table. “Here, some water might help.” He held the cup for her and positioned the straw at her lips. He had to pull it away from her before she drank too much. “Careful! Don’t go so fast, it’s not good for you.” He placed the straw back at her lips again. “There. Thank you.” When she felt she had enough she stopped, and Clark put the cup back on the table. It was almost empty. If she got thirsty again, he’d need to fill it first.

“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” she slurred slightly.

“Making sure you’re okay,” he answered. “Perry and Jimmy were here earlier, too.”

“That’s kind of them, I guess.” Her pronunciation was getting significantly better.

“How do you feel?” he repeated, confident she hadn’t really heard the first time he’d asked.

“Like shit. What happened? Did I get hit by a semitruck?”

“Close. You were taken captive by some off brand Metallo and almost died in a fiery abandoned factory.”

“Oh, goodie. I can add that badge to my vest.”

“Lois, it isn’t funny.”

“No, but if you make a game of it, it’s less traumatizing.”

Clark… couldn’t argue with that, actually. “Okay,” he sighed. “That’s actually not a bad argument.”

“I knew I’d get the boy scout on my side,” Lois joked. “You’re used to collecting badges, after all.”

“I was never a boy scout,” Clark informed her, tone flat.

“Really? You sure act like one.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smiled. And Clark was very sure this was his best view yet.

Their first date—the dinner that was actually a date and not just food after work—was spectacular. They’d chosen a nicer restaurant. So, naturally dressed to fit the part.

Lois had requested that Clark wear his charcoal suit that she was fond of. And who was he to deny her?

Further upon Lois’ request, Clark admitted he favored her in burgundy. He liked her in any color, honestly, but her favorite purple and a nice burgundy were truly his favorites. And she did look absolutely stunning in the sparkling ombre burgundy dress she was wearing.

The dim lighting of the restaurant definitely accentuated the mood of the night. And the sparkles in Lois’ dress made her shine brighter than anyone else in there. (Was Clark biased? Extremely. But who cares?).

She was eye-catching for sure. And Clark had no reason to hide the way he was unapologetically enjoying his view.

It had been a while since their first date. It had gone extraordinarily well. But they’d been busy. Of course, they spent a lot of time together, but not in the romantic capacity. So when they suddenly, rather randomly, had a night off, they decided to take advantage of it.

Lois grumbled about this being a lame second date, feeling bad that it was the best they could do. Clark joyfully declared that it didn’t matter, since they saw enough of each other in various states of dressed up anyway. This did get Lois to perk up a little.

The relaxed movie night they settled on was perfect. Lois eventually decided that Clark was right, they saw enough of each other, and they were good enough friends already for this to be a good second date (Lois would usually reserve more intimate settings such as this for much, much later in the dating game).

Since it was such a spontaneous idea, they’d not really though the details through. They’d picked up food on the way to Clark’s apartment and that had been all the forethought. It wasn’t until they arrived that Lois realized she didn’t want to stay in her work clothes, especially since she’d been in them for too long already.

She was halfway through changing into Clark’s repurposed clothing that Lois realized how domestic this probably seemed. After a bit of a battle with her commitment issues, she ultimately decided that she’d been doing this long before they’d even been good friends, so it didn’t matter at this point. And honestly, she just needed to officially be Clark’s girlfriend so that she could finally stop hiding her embarrassingly large collection of his clothes that she borrowed and never did get around to giving back.

Clark had seen her in his clothes before. But he did a poor job of hiding how captivated he was by her in the moment when she’d walked out of his room, swimming in his sweatshirt.

He hoped she hadn’t noticed, but he was enjoying watching her more than he was the movie.

Clark hadn’t seen much of Lois recently. And at first, he chalked it up to their busy schedules. But the sinking feeling in his gut was starting to whisper that she was avoiding him. And what’s worse, he couldn’t imagine what he possibly could have done.

He was zoned out at his desk, desperately wracking his brain for even a shred of a clue as to what could have happened that would have pissed her off or annoyed her or set her off in another way.

Maybe they were moving too quickly in their relationship? He knew Lois had a history of self-sabotaging her relationships when things got too much for her. So did that mean he should go find her and have a hard conversation? Or was she avoiding him because she needed space so that she wouldn’t feel overwhelmed and therefore like she needed to end things? Should he come up with some reason they needed to work together so that he could interact with her at least professionally?

And the most unexpected thing of all snapped him out of his spiral.

Lois, on her way to her desk, had made a pitstop at his, caressed his shoulder to get him to face her slightly, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Stop overthinking whatever you are,” she murmured.

Clark just nodded dumbly. She was speaking to him! She’d kissed him! Things were clearly fine! He really had been overthinking things.

She smiled at him before making her way over to her desk. Clark, still trying to calm his racing mind, enjoyed his view until he felt he had to get back to work.

Clark really shouldn’t have been as surprised as he had been to discover that Lois had figured out he was Superman before he worked up the courage to finally tell her himself.

Her reaction of, “About fucking time you told me, Smallville!” definitely had not been one of the many, many reactions he’d predicted she might have.

But it meant that they could get the hard conversation out of the way. Which also meant he could finally fulfill his promise to take her to the moon. He wondered if she remembered him making it, since it had been a few years.

Turns out, she did remember. It didn’t wholly surprise him to learn that. She was brilliant. And she usually didn’t forget things Superman-related.

As it was, they were enjoying the view of Earth from the moon. He hadn’t been lying when he told her this was one of his favorite views. And he was so happy that he could finally share it with her.

And when he turned to face her so that he could tell her that, he was immediately distracted.

She was leaned forward, her face twisted in awe as she absorbed the view of their home. And he had never seen something so beautiful. And yeah, that was cheesy as was typical of him, but seriously. And maybe it was more than face value.

Here he was, with the woman of his dreams. They were sitting on the literal moon, admiring their planet. Her backdrop was a blanket of stars, which was symbolic for him, having journeyed through them as an infant.

He was sharing himself fully with her, in a way. And she was mesmerizing in the way she was enjoying their excursion.

So sue him if he was enjoying his view. He had finally, resolutely decided she was the one.

Of all the amazing views he’s enjoyed of her, this one is by far his favorite. Her in white, smiling broadly at him, promising to love and cherish him always. He couldn’t wait to repeat those very words to her. He couldn’t wait for her to always be his view.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane wasn’t quite sure what she should expect to happen. She had it on good authority—it had been an excellent week for Bobby Bigmouth—that the gym on fifth was a front for the mob. And honestly, she shouldn’t have expected anything less from a gym called ‘Gym-azing.’

Really? Really?

So the plan was simple: join the gym. Obviously, especially since the Daily Planet was footing the bill, she should pay for the premium or exclusive package or whatever. Which she planned to do because she wanted to nail this story before anyone knew what was happening.

On the downside, that meant she was buying the couple’s pack. Because accountability partners were the fastest way to cracking a mob front case, according to gym policy. And if she consistently never had someone else using the membership, it would be suspicious.

Fortunately, she did have an accountability partner built into her job. Unfortunately, Clark Kent was not the most athletic person in the office. But she wasn’t about to ask Steve Lombard, that’s for damn sure. She supposed Clark wouldn’t be too obviously an outsider, since surely he had some strength thanks to the farm chores he undoubtably did at home.

She’d already worked out in the gym a few times, establishing her cover. And honestly, the weights were pretty quality, and she had been meaning to do better about toning her arms and abs, anyway.

But she didn’t want to go alone too many times. So today she’d ordered invited Clark to join her. She had arrived thirty minutes early so she could do some cardio—she did not want someone she knew to watch her, it was embarrassing—and now she was sitting on one of the benches drinking some water. Clark was three minutes late. But maybe it was better that he stroll in at a random time, to make it look less meticulously planned and more of a casual ‘hey, meet me here,’ sort of thing.

While she waited, she sat back to people watch. And wasn’t that interesting.

She had the gym rats, that obviously knew what they were doing and were only at this cheesy gym because it was probably the cheapest gym membership around. Or they were in the mob, and this was their place. And then she had the people that had made new year resolutions to hit the gym and surprisingly stuck with it, but still didn’t really know what they were doing.

Lois could relate. She was YouTubing everything. She was probably going to stay away from… preworkout? One of the new year’s folk tried it like a gym rat and had a wheezing fit for six minutes. She took that as a sign it wasn’t for her.

She was a bit distracted when a tall guy walked in the gym. She wondered what his story was. He looked like a gym rat. But for some reason, she didn’t think he was a mob-probable. He was dressed in what she would describe as a typical gym bro outfit: that tight fitted black tank top that guys favored, a well-fitted pair of gray joggers, some white Nikes, and a black ballcap worn backwards on his head. The ballcap seemed like more of a way to keep his hair out of his face than a stylistic choice, though.

She had to admit, she dug it. He was hot.

But could anyone blame her? He was wearing clothes that complimented his muscular figure. He had to be a body builder. The way he was angled, talking to the person at the desk, allowed her to get a good glimpse of his backside. Broad, strong shoulders, muscular back, trim waist, a solid-looking ass (she had eyes!), and incredible legs that the sweatpants were highlighting perfectly, in her cultured opinion.

He was definitely a fine piece of eye candy.

And that was without her mentioning his sun kissed skin and wild black curls. His skin had a gorgeous golden-tan hue; and his curls looked so soft and silky, and she just wanted to tangle her fingers in those curls.

And then he turned a little, inspecting the gym, and Lois choked on her water.

She’d been admiring Clark.

Clark Kent. Her partner at the newspaper.

Clark Kent had the body of a Greek god, and she’d never noticed. What the fuck?!

How had she never noticed?

Was it because she’d never really seen Clark in casual clothes before? That had to be it.

She was wracking her brain, trying to think of any time she’d seen Clark in anything but his work clothes.

And she could only think of the one time she’d caught him in a bathrobe. But as bathrobes do, it obscured his figure entirely.

Her conclusion: Clark Kent’s work wardrobe was long past due for a complete overhaul. Also, she understood his desire for professionalism, but slicking his curls back when they were that beautiful was just criminal.

She snapped out of her thoughts just when Clark was looking her way. She waved at him. He smiled—God, that made him even more gorgeous—and started making his way over to her.

“Hey!” he greeted, subtly leaving out her name. She kicked herself for forgetting to tell him her undercover name. “Sorry I’m late,” he continued.

Lois checked her watch. “Literally by five minutes; you’re fine, Matt.” She slapped his arm in jest and sneakily wrote C-H-L-O-E on Clark’s arm.

“Ha, okay. Thanks, Clo. You know how I get.”

And damn, Clark was actually really good at being normal for undercover operations. Which she sort of knew, but this situation was different from most.

Lois laughed his comment off, also refocusing. “You wanna do my workout with me?”

Clark shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Clark definitely didn’t already have a workout plan then. Which was beyond curious, seeing as he was incredibly defined. She was displaying so much self-control for not reaching out and squeezing his chest or his biceps or… she needed to lock in.

She could barely focus on her workout. Clark was so distracting. And he wasn’t even trying to be. Maybe she shouldn’t redo his closet for him. Maybe that’s why he wore shirts three sizes too big. Bless this man and his deliberately terrible clothing. He was saving her work ethic.

Needless to say, Lois relied on Clark to solve this mob front story way more than she’d ever relied on anyone for anything. And it was entirely the man’s fault. What’s worse, he was entirely oblivious! He kept asking if she was feeling okay and if she maybe had some bad water or something.

Clark Kent was the biggest nerd she knew. He was also the biggest teddy bear on the face of the planet. And now he was the hottest nerd ever.

She started this undercover operation worried Clark would stick out like a sore thumb. She ended this undercover operation worried that she was falling in love with Clark Kent.

Chapter Text

Clark Kent was, from the beginning, a bit of an old-fashioned romantic.

This was why, when he was five years old, he point-blank rejected Susan Quin when she asked him to be her boyfriend during recess. It was obviously a popularity stunt—any girl with a boyfriend got a status bump and it didn’t matter if the boyfriend was popular or not… and for a whole bunch of five- and six-year-olds, this was very intense.  

And again when he was in middle school. He was in the seventh grade when a freshman, Sally Morris, asked him out. She wanted to meet in the school library for coffee. What she really wanted was help on her homework. Which really spoke volumes as to how smart Clark was known to be if someone two grades older than him wanted his help.

His first girlfriend was Lana Lang, when they were juniors in high school. And it hadn’t truly been a real relationship. They were good friends, and they both thought the other was cute. But they were honestly trying to figure out their sexualities. Clark never wanted to speak for Lana—she never really did figure things out fully while they were together—but Clark had briefly thought he might be asexual and wanted to test things. And he eventually ended things with Lana before they could get sexy like any other high school relationship, cementing in his mind that sex just wasn’t for him.

When he was in college, he tried things with Lory. It was an unusual relationship, to put it simply. They, in very many ways, came from two different worlds. And they didn’t have enough in common to make things work. But they ended things mutually and were able to keep being friends.

And then Clark needed to revisit what he thought he knew about his sexuality when he met Lois Lane. She was everything all at once. She was beautiful and brilliant and just something else entirely. And she very quickly became his closest friend. And then he figured he wasn’t ace after all because he was very ashamed of the (intrusive!) thoughts he kept having of her.

It became very, very clear to him after this that this whole time it hadn’t been about how attractive someone was or wasn’t. It was about him finding the right person. And honestly? That saved him so much grief. Especially when he dug deeper into his research on his physiology at the Fortress and discovered Kryptonians mate for life. That was very good to know and he was counting all his lucky stars and blessings that he had thought himself ace in high school instead of being a normal horny teenage boy.

He wasn’t the type of guy that could do a hookup or one night stand; he couldn’t do a summer fling. He knew that already. It was all or nothing with him. It had just taken him the better part of three decades to figure that last part out, as well as just how true and important that was for him.

Of course, it was also in part because his parents had raised him with the philosophy to ‘date to marry’ and not to ‘date to date.’ Which definitely made him old fashioned, but he was okay with that. It added to his Midwestern charm, according to Lois.

And then, after he figured this all out, he got to experience how fun dating could be when one was completely attracted to the potential partner.

And finally, after Lois knew everything and they committed themselves to each other, they both had a blast figuring out how healthy his drive was.

Chapter Text

Lois and Clark had a complicated relationship. He was head-over-heels in love with her, and she was emotionally unavailable. And they both knew this about each other. To make things more interesting, they were the best of friends. And they were partners at work.

So, basically, they saw each other literally all the time, greatly enjoyed each other’s company, and only one of them was hopelessly in love with the other.

It was complicated.

But their relationship made sense to each other—for now, at least—and that’s really all that mattered.

As it was, Clark and Jimmy were huddled by Lois’ desk when she was returning to the office after meeting a source. And they were busy talking about the different types of personalities in the office.

“I think you’re a sunny kind of guy, C.K,” Jimmy was saying.

“I dunno, Jimmy. I kinda—”

Lois interrupted, not in the mood for their small talk right now. “Clark, you are the sun in my life,” she started. Jimmy looked gleeful and Clark looked like he didn’t know what to think. “Now get ninety-three million miles away from my desk.”

Surprisingly, it was Jimmy who looked crestfallen.

Clark looked humored. He rolled his chair across the walkway back to his desk. “Best I can do is maybe five feet,” he said, voice sounding apologetic despite the grin on his face. He turned to Jimmy. “Best get to work, buddy.”

Jimmy looked so sad that Lois almost felt bad. It was funny, in an odd way. She’d roasted Clark, who had brushed it off immediately, knowing it was a joke. But Jimmy… he looked like she’d just shot his puppy.

“Sure, C.K.” He glanced at Lois. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

Lois looked over to Clark. When he met her gaze, he shrugged. The look on his face said, ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.’ So Lois didn’t worry. She got right to work instead.

Lois didn’t know why she did it. She had just ended what she had considered a fling. The guy she’d been flinging with hadn’t been on the same page. It had been a messy breakup. In the sense that the guy had been confused and shocked and a bit overly dramatic in a way that scared Lois a little bit. And maybe that was why she did it. And by ‘did it’ she didn’t mean breakup with him, she meant show up at Clark’s apartment.

He'd clearly been getting ready for bed when she’d knocked on his door. He was wearing fuzzy socks, a loose pair of dark sweatpants, and an old Kansas State hoodie that must’ve been his dad’s. His hair was loose and very curly. Lois hadn’t ever realized how curly his hair was; or, if she was being honest, that he had curly hair.

She must have looked a mess, because he didn’t even say anything as he stood aside and let her in his apartment. She flopped onto his couch wordlessly, throwing her purse to the side without a thought.

She heard him bustling around in the kitchen for a moment before he sat on the little free space that was left on the couch. He pressed something into her forearm. She looked down and saw that it was a bowl of ice cream.

“Am I destined to be alone?” she asked randomly as she accepted the ice cream.

“There’s someone out there for everyone, Lois,” he answered sweetly. “For you, it’s a therapist,” he added, tone light and jesting.

It worked, Lois laughed. And it wasn’t humorless, but genuine.

“I would smack you for that,” she shot back, life in her voice, “but I’m against animal abuse.”

He chuckled, smile bright and contagious.

Sure, she didn’t know why she’d come to his apartment, but she did know that it was the right choice.

Undercover operations were always fun with Clark. Especially when they acted like a couple on the verge of divorce, or spurned lovers, or something along that vein.

On one memorable occasion, Clark, in an attempt to be dismissive to her, had hissed, “I can’t wait to spend my whole life without you,” when the mob boss, who was beginning to suspect something was up between them, rounded the corner. It had been brutal and had worked perfectly for what they needed. Lois had almost kissed him for it.    

On another occasion, Lois had been pissed that Clark had joined her operation without her approval and had been laying into him about it in a shadowy corner. One of the goons was coming closer to them, so she had whisper sharply and suddenly that she couldn’t believe that Clark was a little bitch. Clark had reacted so surprised at the sudden twist in what she was saying to him. It worked perfectly. Just as the goon was within earshot, and right before Clark could say something in response, Lois stage whispered, “Whoever told you to be yourself gave you bad advice.”

One of the trickiest covers they’d had to assume was a divorcing couple attempting one last time to save their marriage. They’d thought the couple’s therapist was laundering money, so they’d needed to get closer. This occasion had allowed for Lois to tell Clark, loudly and in front of a large group of people, “I don’t hate you; but if you were drowning, I would give you a high five.”

Clark, having done a fantastic job of looking furious at that comment, had immediately fired back, “Whatever doesn’t kill you, disappoints me.”

There was an odd operation where Clark had been in the role of the secretary to her mob boss persona that was beyond done being under her. He was trying to make it look like he was ready to usurp her and command more power. And his snide remark of, “I’m sorry, I can’t think of an insult dumb enough for you to understand,” had done an excellent job of convincing the right people to let him into their inner circle.

Needless to say, their habit of roasting each other sure came in handy when trying to convince people they hated each other.

It had been a really long couple of days. And to top it off, Lois had almost gotten herself killed again.

Clark was laying into her about her recklessness and how she needed to be more careful and something about ‘What if Superman isn’t there to catch you next time?’

Lois did feel a little bad when he mentioned that one. Especially since Superman had cut it a little close this time. “It is hilarious how you are trying to fit your entire vocabulary into this argument,” she remembered saying to him after that comment. She hadn’t wanted to admit she was in the wrong.

For the briefest moment, Clark’s eyes seemed to ignite with some type of furious fire. “I told my therapist about you,” he spat, “she didn’t believe me.”

“You know what, Clark?” she hissed the question. “Have a nice rest of your day… somewhere else!” She’d left the room before he could say anything else.

Clark was very, very hard to piss off. But when you got him going, boy did he go. “I like the way you comb your hair,” he mentioned, voice very, very nice all of a sudden, “so the horns don’t show up.”

He was trying to rile her up in return. And she wasn’t about to let him know it was working. “Honey,” she purred, returning his sweet tone, “the only thing bothering me is placed between your ears.”

“You know,” he smiled menacingly, “it would be a great day if you used a glue stick instead of Chapstick.”

“You know, it really is all about balance. When you start talking, I stop listening,” she replied. “All the important stuff comes from my un-glued lips anyway.”

Clark groaned in frustration. “Everyone is allowed to act stupid every now and then. But you, Lois, are truly abusing that privilege.”

“Oh, cry me a river. And then do me a favor and drown yourself in it.”

“What? Will you give me a high-five?” he asked. She rolled her eyes. “Why are you rolling your eyes? Don’t tell me you’re looking for your brain.”

And Lois was so very done with him. “Earth is full. Go home,” she said.

And Clark went from furious to heartbroken so very quickly. Lois was a little bit surprised. And she was more surprised when Clark turned on his heel, grabbed his jacket, and marched out the door.

She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had crossed a line when he didn’t show up to work the next day. But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that line had been. When she saw Clark the next day, she didn’t want to shoo him away by asking. But she was very careful to be very gentle with him for some time to come.

When she did figure out the line, she felt very, very awful about it.

She spawned into his apartment entirely unannounced and uninvited and attached herself to him in the biggest hug she’d ever given. She was very embarrassed by the volume of tears and snot that had soaked into his shirt. But she needed him to know she was very, very sorry.

“Where is your off button?” he asked, softly.

Lois froze and slowly looked up to meet his gaze. And she felt dizzy with relief when she saw a gentle smile on his face.

After a moment, she responded, “Right here,” as she tapped her forehead.

He pressed a soft kiss to it, and she knew everything would be alright.

“You know what, Lois?” Clark asked, interrupting her meltdown mid-sentence. “You’re not simply a drama queen. You’re the whole royal family.”

“Oh. You hear that?” Lois paused, letting him get a large earful of silence. “That’s the sound of me not caring.”

After that, they stared at each other in silence, fury etched into every feature of their faces. Lois counted to fifteen before she dared to ask, “Are they gone?”

Clark’s expression melted into a soft smile. “Yeah, I think we actually scared them.”

“Nice,” Lois whisper cheered. “That was some Grade A acting on our parts,” she mentioned, pulling her lockpicking set out of one of the pockets in her dress.

“I’m pretty sure most people think we’re toxic,” Clark commented, patiently watching her pick the lock.

“Let them. We know the truth,” she stated, unlocking the office they definitely weren’t supposed to be in. “Makes it easier for us to get the story.”

Clark just smiled as he followed her into the office. X-ray vision guided them right to the files they were there for.

Chapter Text

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was a science behind this phenomenon.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t know this, but it had to be the case because there was no other logical conclusion.

What phenomenon?

Oh, just the extremely absurd way she, Lois Joanne Lane, was completely obsessed with hugs or cuddles from Clark Joseph Kent.

In an effort to break down the phenomenon, to find the science behind it, Lois listed the reasons she loved Clark’s hugs so much.

One, he was warm. She couldn’t really explain this. He always felt a little hot to touch, like he was constantly running a fever. Lois knew that some people where just like that, and Clark was one of them. That wasn’t exactly what she meant by him being warm. It was like the warmth of who he is as a person flowed out from his soul and into his hugs. Like she said, she couldn’t really explain it. It was just something someone kind of had to experience themselves.

Two, he was massive. It was like getting hugged by an extra-large teddy bear. Clark towered over her and was probably three times as wide as she was. He engulfed her when he held her and there was a very large small part of Lois that loved this immensely. And this did go hand-in-hand with reasons three and four.

Three, he was solid. To this day, Lois is always slightly thrown off when she presses into Clark and his hard body. He was very defined under those clothes of his. Said clothes were incredibly deceiving. They led her, and others, to believe that he might be a little softer and rounder under his shirt; and it maybe suggested that he was a little self-conscious about it, too, since he tried to hide it with oversized clothes. Not that anyone cared; but if it was important to him, no one would say anything. But this was why Lois was always thrown off when she hugged Clark—she was expecting softness, not a solid wall. And to go with his solidness…

Four, he was strong. And not just farmboy strong. But like strong strong. Which was odd because she’d never heard him talk of going to the gym, never seen him into fitness things or diets, and had never seen well-worn gym clothes in his closet. And Lois had become familiar with his closet. He had gym clothes, but they seemed like something he wore casually around his apartment or had bought specifically for an undercover assignment, or something. They definitely weren’t sweat-stained nor did they possess that slightly musty scent most frequently-used gym clothes did despite how many times they’d been washed. Though, she wouldn’t put it past Clark Midwestern-Mama’s-Boy Kent to know a special method to solve that particular problem. Clark’s farmboy came out in a lot of different things, like cleaning and meal prepping and even buying groceries. But Lois didn’t for a second believe that his impressive strength came solely from working the farm. Maybe she would have believed that, two years ago, when Clark had been seemingly fresh off the farm. But now, two years into their friendship, Lois knew Clark hadn’t lived at his family’s farm since he went to college. And six years without actively doing farm chores everyday? Yeah, no way in hell could he still have that farm strength. But also, farm strength didn’t necessarily mean weightlifter strength. And Lois would bet her bottom dollar that most farmers didn’t look like they ate solely protein powder and preworkout. Now granted, Lois hadn’t ever seen Clark shirtless, but she would bet that he looked pretty close to a body builder. All this to say, his strength was a mystery, but Lois loved the feeling of his strong arms wrapping around her and holding her close.

Five, he was safe. Lois Lane was raised by a five-star general. She knew survival skills, first aid, self-defense, tracking, etc. Her father made sure she knew how to take care of herself. And she did. But sometimes she got herself in a little too far over her head. Didn’t everybody? And there were an embarrassing number of times where she’d had to be saved by Superman. So she knew what safe felt like. There probably wasn’t anywhere safer than Superman’s arms. Except, Lois was sure Clark’s arms felt safer than the Kryptonian’s. Which, when she thought about it strictly, was absurd. Superman had superstrength, superspeed, and invulnerability; his arms were scientifically safer than good ol’ human Clark Kent’s. But, logically, Lois knew there was more than the strict physical facts. Lois had once been enamored by Superman, yes; who wouldn’t be? But she’d gotten over herself. She would say Superman was her friend, but they weren’t very close. He was far too busy saving lives for that. Though, he did often give her an exclusive. Now Clark, on the other hand, was her go-to for any moment she wasn’t feeling herself. If she was scared, anxious, depressed, or anything else, she would go to Clark. So maybe that was it. She felt safe with Clark because of the emotional security and comfort he provided her.

And that. That was it. That, terrifyingly, was the science behind this phenomenon.

He was the place she felt secure, felt like she could safely let her walls down. He was strong so she didn’t have to be. He was solid when her knees and legs betrayed her. He was physically massive as if to balance her massive personality. He was warm to keep her from staying an ice queen. Clark Kent balanced Lois Lane just by being himself. And in doing so, he allowed her, encouraged her, to be herself, too.

Clark Kent was home for Lois Lane.

This realization made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. And then she looked closer, thought harder, about what it actually meant.

She was honestly, truly, deeply in love with him.

And this realization had her flying out of her bed, throwing on slippers and a jacket, grabbing her keys, and leaving her apartment in the dead of night. She was all the way to his apartment and had his door halfway open when she realized what she was doing. She was uncomfortable with the thought that she was in love with, honestly, the man of her dreams. And her first course of action was to seek comfort. Which she unconsciously did by going to him, the man she loved, the man she was currently uncomfortable with loving.

She sighed to herself and dropped her keys and jacket by the door. She kicked her slippers off somewhere near Clark’s kitchen. She opened his door and smiled when she saw him tucked up under his blankets. She gently shut the door and made her way over to the side of the bed that he’d left unoccupied. She poked his shoulder harshly, eliciting a grumble from him.

“Snuggles?” she asked as she slipped into bed. She tried and failed to steal the covers from him.

She was too focused on trying to win some blanket that she didn’t notice him moving, rolling over to wrap himself around her.

And there it was. His warmth, aided just perfectly by the warm blankets. His massive body, engulfing her entirely. His solidness, particularly in the arm he tucked under her head. His strength, in the arm he slung across her waist and in the way he tucked her close to him, and in the leg he threw over her before threading it between her legs. And finally, the safety she’d been seeking, found in his presence and the way he unconsciously and immediately offered her exactly what she’d needed.

Lois yawned and snuggled closer to Clark. She sleepily noticed he smelled good, like he was freshly washed. Sighing a final time, she found sleep quickly; being home made it easy.

Chapter Text

Clark had been exhausted when he’d finally ended patrol, sure. But that didn’t mean he missed details. He knew for a fact he’d been alone when he’d fallen asleep. So it was definitely a bit of a surprise when his alarm went off and he had to first untangle himself from Lois so he could turn it off.

As it normally was, he couldn’t think very well until he turned the offending sound off. So when he rolled his body back toward Lois, he finally mustered up the confusion as to how this happened. And he first wondered if he’d been mentally compromised the night before, or something. How had Lois gotten into his bed?

“Lois?” he asked, wincing at the roughness of his voice.

She grumbled and snuggled further into him.

What the heck is going on?!

He was acutely aware that he was not wearing much at all. As in, he’d stripped his suit off last night and hopped in bed. He was only wearing his boxers and the socks he had been too lazy to take off.

And then he got distracted by her. She snuggled even closer to him which alerted him to the way their legs were intertwined. And this took his mind down the rabbit trail of how small she was. He knew he was a big guy and that she was a small woman, but holding her like this? She was positively tiny by comparison.

In no way could he deny how much he enjoyed this situation he found himself in, though. He was soaking this moment up completely.

In this moment, she seemed delicate. Which was a word he never thought he might use to describe Lois Lane. But it was true; he had, at some point since she joined him in bed, essentially wrapped himself around her. If he wasn’t invulnerable, he was sure the arm she was using as a pillow wouldn’t have any feeling in it. Her pillow was his bicep, and his arm was bent at the elbow to wrap back around her and sort of cradle her head in an impossibly gentle and ridiculously intimate way. And his hand was tangled in her hair. His other arm had been wrapped around her waist. But since that was the arm he used to turn his alarm off, it wasn’t anymore. He’d just kinda flopped it back down when he’d rolled back over. So now his arm was just loosely draped over her waist. Her face was nearly buried in his neck; her breath was tickling his skin. Their torsos where pressed flat against each other—he hoped she wasn’t too hot; he was hyper aware that he ran warm. He consoled himself with the idea that she had pressed herself closer, instead of further apart—which made their size difference a sharp contrast. And then there was their legs. He had one leg underneath both of hers. Then his other leg had been thrown over her before bending at the knee so he could tuck his lower leg between hers. And finally, his chin was resting on top of her head.

So she was quite literally consumed by him.

And to make matters more cozy and squishy, one of her arms was threaded under his head and wrapped around so her fingers could bury themselves in his hair. Her other arm was wrapped around his waist.

He didn’t want to ever move.

But again, he was acutely aware that he was not wearing much at all. Not to mention how he was sure he needed to shower. He hadn’t been worried about that last night, since it wasn’t like he’d been in a fire or mudslide, but he probably did smell like he’d been around the city for several hours, helping people and animals, since that’s exactly how he’d spent his evening.

He slowly untangled his legs from hers. And he was largely successful, until she made a soft noise of discontent as he continued separating himself from her. His heart dropped at that.

Screw Kryptonite, she was his greatest weakness.

But even still, he persevered. It took him a painfully long amount of time and generous usage of his ability to fly, but he did unlatch himself from her without disturbing her sleep.

And the first thing he did was head to the kitchen in order to prepare some coffee. He could shower while it brewed. He was in a bit of a daze, so he completely hit the brakes when he kicked something on his way into his kitchen. Looking down, he recognized Lois’ slippers. Which didn’t really answer any of his questions; it only told him that she’d come here after being ready for bed. And since she was usually only ready for bed right before she actually fell asleep, he figured that she’d come over very late last night.

Shaking his head, he continued about his business. He would ask her about it after she’d had a few sips of coffee.

As he wrapped up with the coffee machine, he gently kicked her slippers neatly to the side, where they would be out of the walkway but easy to reach.

He wasn’t very prepared for the sight of her petite frame sprawled over his side of the bed, fast asleep when he returned to his room. He’d already known she had his heart and that he wanted more than anything to start a life with her, but this… it made it very clear to him how much he really did want it. He wanted this scene to be something he saw regularly.

He also wanted to take a picture but wasn’t quite sure if it would be appropriate for him to do so. He snapped one anyway, figuring he could always delete it, and his phone was very secure, courtesy of Batman. Besides, Lois was wearing fuzzy pajamas, making it look like they were in middle school and just had a sleep over.

The lamest sleepover I’ve ever been a part of, Clark thought to himself as he quietly gathered fresh clothes, a whole lot less junk food and tv and a whole lot more z’s being caught. He sniggered to himself. Lois would have probably found that funny. In fact, when she woke up, if she felt awkward about this whole situation, he’d even tell her that. Cracking a joke, however flat it might fall, usually helped her feel less vulnerable.

He took his time in the shower. And he didn’t rush the rest of his morning routine either. He was halfway through shaving when he heard the coffee machine signal that it was done.

Clark was completely dressed and ready for work when he woke Lois up with a cup of coffee for her.

“Mornin,’ sunshine,” he greeted, gently shaking her by the shoulder.  

She grumbled, not wanting to wake up. “C’ark?”

“Yeah, hi.” He reached for the coffee he’d left on the bedside table. “Coffee?”

Lois sat up, confused. “Sure,” she answered, rubbing her eyes. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

“You know, that’s funny, because I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he replied.

“Huh?” she asked as she took the coffee from him and took some sips. That’s when she realized where she was. “Oh, shit. I thought I was dreaming.”

“You were sleepwalking?” Clark asked, alarmed that she’d made her way across the city to his apartment in her sleep.

“No!” Lois was quick to assure him. “No, I wasn’t. But I don’t know…” She paused to collect her thoughts. “You know when you wake up in a different place and are confused because you thought it was a dream? And then it comes back to you that it wasn’t?”

Clark nodded. “Ah, okay. That makes me feel better.”

“No, yeah, even I know how dangerous sleepwalking through Metropolis would be.”

“So, uh…?”

Lois curled into the coffee mug slightly. “I was thinking things last night and came to some conclusions I was a little scared by, so I came for comfort cuddles,” she mumbled into her coffee.

“What has Lois Lane scared?” Clark asked, jest in his voice to hide his concern.

Lois waved his concern away. “Nothing like life or death, just some emotional shit.”

“Oh,” Clark breathed, relaxing. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” she replied, voice flat.

Clark nodded, averting his eyes. “Okay, well, I’m here if you ever do want to.” He straightened up. “We, uh, haveta be at work in a few. Want me to run to yours and grab some things for you? You can finish the coffee, there’s more in the pot, and shower and that should give me enough time to—”

“No, that’s okay. I have things here.”

“Oh, good you brought stuff—”

“No,” she cut him off again.

“Huh?”

“I’ve had stuff here,” she informed him.

“Run that by me?” he requested.

She shrugged. “I guess it’s a habit from my childhood. We were always on the move. I kinda got in the habit of leaving supplies places I knew I might need to have something stashed away. Now that I’m more or less permanently here in the city, I stash clothes places I might need them. And since I spend so much time here in your apartment, I have a supply.”

“I have no idea how I missed that.”

“I guess you don’t see the bottom of your sock drawer much, then,” she quipped.

“My sock drawer?”

Lois shrugged again. “It’s a place people don’t nose through.”

“Except, apparently, you.”

“Yep,” she confirmed, popping the p. “It’s the nosiness in me.” She took a long gulp of her coffee before she scooched herself mostly out of the bed to where she and Clark were sitting side by side. “Well, I’ll hit the showers so we can roll out.” She pressed the coffee mug back into Clark’s hands before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Then she made her way into the bathroom, apparently completely unaware that Clark was sitting on his bed, still in shock, coffee cup barely remaining in his hands instead of becoming a cluster of wet shards on the floor.

Lois was rinsing the shampoo from her hair when her actions caught up to her.

She’d kissed Clark.

On the lips.

Domestically.

She robotically went through the rest of her shower routine. And then, hair twisted up in a towel and another towel wrapped around her body, she marched out of the bathroom. Clark was sitting exactly where she’d left him, dazedly drinking the coffee he’d made for her. It seemed he didn’t know what to do.

Well, she’d give him a choice.

She made her way back around the bed, pried the mug from his hands and set it down on the nightstand, before settling herself onto Clark’s lap and pressing him back onto the bed. And then she kissed him hard.

And it took him only a second to bring his hands up to her waist and kiss her back.

When she pulled away, she delighted in the awestruck look on Clark’s face.

“That was good, but we have to get to work,” she explained.

Clark nodded dumbly. She waited to see if his brain would come back online. “We could be late?” he suggested.

“I think we already are.”

“Does this have anything to do with the scary emotional thoughts?”

Damn. He was too smart for his own good. And his brain was very obviously not fully functional, either.

She patted his cheek. “And I’m still not ready to really talk about it. Now, I’m gonna need another coffee since you stole mine. Got any to-go cups?”

And that’s all he needed to get his ass back in gear. “Yep! Yeah, I’ll let you get dressed and go do that.”

She couldn’t resist. She kissed him again. Soft and sweet this time, though. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks.” Then she finally dismounted him and helped herself to his sock drawer where her stashed clothes were.

“Uhh…?”

She already knew what he was going to try for. “We could do dinner tonight?” she offered, beating him to it. She turned around just in time to see him smile widely.

“Yeah, great.”

Lois nodded, returning his smile. “It’s a date,” she declared before shutting herself in the bathroom to get dressed.

She was pretty sure she heard Clark humming a nice melody as he meandered to the kitchen.

After the morning’s turn of events, Clark was eternally grateful he’d taken that picture.

Chapter Text

She and Clark had been dating for a while. Long enough for her to have adjusted to having a significant other. Long enough for them to have deeper talks about where their relationship was going. Long enough for her to get to know Clark so well that she figured out he was Superman. She was still waiting on him to tell her that for himself, though. It just seemed like something he needed to do; and she wanted him to do it because she needed him to be completely honest with her. Now, granted, it wasn’t like he was maliciously lying to her—he was a terrible liar, and he knew it—but he wasn’t being open about this, and that hurt her a little. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. She trusted he had good reasons as to why he hadn’t told her yet. And she knew Clark well enough to theorize a few, very valid, if silly, reasons he’d not told her yet.

She wasn’t going to directly confront him about this. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to push him into situations where he might be more apt to tell her. Like now, for instance. She had planned a movie night for them at her apartment, which wasn’t strange at all. But she had specifically set things up in her bedroom. She was a little concerned it might be too forward, since Clark would undoubtedly assume she was making a request for sex—she wasn’t, to be clear, but she also wasn’t strictly opposed to that, either; Clark was just a little old fashioned…

No, her point in all this was to create a more intimate atmosphere. She wanted to cuddle up with her boyfriend in their pajamas and fall asleep watching a movie with him. Because even though they’d cuddled up and fallen asleep watching a movie on the couch, the bed was different.

Fortunately, Clark didn’t so much as blink when she pulled him into her bed for movie night. She had worried for nothing, it seemed. Clark was comfortable with the fact she wouldn’t push him into doing anything he wasn’t ready for.

At one point, not even halfway through the movie, Clark left the bedroom. Lois wasn’t really sure why. He hadn’t said anything. But then he returned with two bowls of ice cream and a lopsided grin. Lois was pretty sure she’d never sat up faster. And they got most of the way through the movie sitting on her bed, cross-legged, in their pajamas, eating ice cream. Before the movie ended, Clark took their bowls to the sink; when he returned, they cuddled up together to finish the movie. And Lois was pretty sure she could pinpoint the exact moment Clark fell asleep.

He was usually always very engaged when he watched something—he was always periodically humming or chuckling or otherwise doing something to vocalize that he was following along. So when he was silent for too long a stretch, Lois checked his breathing pattern.

When he was asleep, he did this thing where he would breathe in a halting pattern, like he was holding his breath for several seconds after each inhale and exhale. Lois, know that she knew he was Superman, theorized this was actually a normal breathing pattern for a Kryptonian and that he breathed like a human when he was awake. She also had the thought, though, that maybe Kryptonians just breathed differently when they were asleep, since she somewhat doubted Clark was consciously thinking about the way he was breathing in his day-to-day.

The third indicator he was asleep, though, was the way his body would completely relax. It was as if he was constantly keeping his body coiled, always at attention, but then when he was asleep, all that tension eased out of him. It was a little sad, when she thought about it; he never really let himself be soft. He was only soft when he was asleep, when he couldn’t possibly worry about being in control of his strength. Lois knew Clark was an anxious person, but she wondered how much of that anxiety was related to his powers.

Clark had fallen asleep right when the credits started rolling; he’d successfully made it through the movie. Lois was too busy studying him to pay the credits any mind, but she kept the movie on, knowing there was a post-credits scene coming. She did watch it, when it finally blinked on. But as soon as it was over, she turned the tv off.

Clark was a chronic snuggler in his sleep. She knew this. She’d seen him take naps and they’d fallen asleep on the couch together. She’d also woken him up a couple of times and seen evidence of him snuggling pillows. So she knew, when he rolled away from her, that it was only a matter of time before he rolled back over and spooned her, probably for the rest of the night.

She turned her back to him and opened up Instagram. Clark loved to send her things throughout the day and now was a good time to check her dms. She eventually made it through all the memes and reels Clark had sent her. Some of the things he sent her where things he knew she’d like—snack recipes, news stories, Target clothing hauls, etc.—and some of the things were little cute dog videos that anyone would enjoy, and some things still where things he’d probably laughed his ass off about and wanted to share with someone—like God-awful puns and linguistic jokes and some niche nerdy things, for example. She loved each and every thing he sent, though, because when it came to Clark, he didn’t do mindless, he always did thoughtful, even if they were silly thoughts.

When she’d finished responding to his dms and even sent him some reels in return, she put her phone down and turned back over to settle in for bed. That’s when she saw Clark hovering a considerable distance above the bed. And she was too tired to realize what it was, at first.

“Knock it off, Clark,” she grumbled, hiding the laugh in her voice. “I know this prank.” To prove it, she swiped her hand under him, pushing the blankets back. She knew she’d hit a stool that was holding him in the air. Except she never hit the stool. She swiped her hand again, faster this time. Still nothing. “Clark?” she asked, swiping her hand a little faster. She sat up to swipe better, sure she was just missing it. “Clark?!”

And just when she was about to shove him off the stool that had to be there—something in the back of her mind whispered that she would have noticed him set up the prank—he grumbled sleepily and flopped back onto the bed. And just as she was absorbing that there really wasn’t a stool, he was rolling onto his side and snuggling into his pillow. He looked adorable; his hair was all floppy and his curls were wild, and the way he was hugging the pillow to him had his cheek smooshed up, which also bared his teeth a little.

Lois flopped into her own pillows. “Right. You can fly,” she whispered, technically to him, but mostly thinking out loud. She reached a hand out and brushed his bangs back, letting more of his sleep-smoothed features show. Clark hummed, deep and low, making Lois shiver. She didn’t think too hard about the way the depth of his register made her feel all tingly. She sighed, relaxing further into bed. “Sometimes I can forget that. Since you’re the most human person I know, Kansas.”

It was a good thing he was asleep and therefore unable to hear the sweet words she was saying. Or if he did hear them, they would be adapted into his dream and therefore easy to play off as something his subconscious thought up.

She snuggled into the covers and shifted to be on her side facing him. She leaned forward slightly and kissed his cheek. She smiled when she felt him nuzzle a little into her lips and smile in his sleep. Pulling back to look at him, she breathed a laugh at the dopey little grin on his face. He was very obviously asleep, and the way the pillow was smooshing his cheek and showing his teeth made his little grin look silly, but in a very cute way.

She wanted to fall asleep this way but was ultimately uncomfortable on this side. Rolling over, she fought a little with the blankets, struggling to pull them over her shoulders. And then Clark solved all her problems when he pulled her close to him, wrapped her up in his strong arms, and pulled the blankets over them both. He topped everything off by throwing a powerful leg over hers.

Her first thought was, welp, I’m stuck. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to worm her way out of Clark’s hold even if he wasn’t superpowered. Her second thought was how she was extremely comfortable like this. And that’s when she fell asleep.

And the next morning, when she woke up, she couldn’t remember a time where she’d slept better in her life.

Chapter Text

Anyone who had a functional brain knew Superman was an icon. And in the modern age of social media, icon status meant it was everywhere.

And on TikTok, it quickly became a trend for people to ask their significant other what their Kryptonite was. The whole idea was for the partner to answer that their love was their Kryptonite.

Okay, that didn’t make sense when said like that.

But an example popped up on Lois’ feed.

It was a pretty blonde lady, she’d probably been a cheerleader in high school, and she was turning to her boyfriend or husband or whatever he was to her. “Hey, babe?” she asked.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“What’s your Kryptonite?”

The man straightened up, letting the camera catch him. He was also blonde. “I dunno. Maybe chocolate lava cake,” he answered.

The lady turned to look at him. “You’re supposed to say me,” she pouted, pointing to herself.

“Oh! Sorry, babe. You’re totally my Kryptonite.”

Lois snorted and shut off her phone. She and Clark had seen so many videos like that. Sometimes the guy was a bit more educated in TikTok’s and had the right answer ready to go. Sometimes the guy was very literal in his answer and would reply with something that he had an anaphylactic allergy to, which would technically be far more correct than any other answer. Those were Lois’ and Clark’s favorite videos, because not only was the guy accurate in his answer, but the woman never had a cheesy romantic comeback.

It had been a long couple of days at the office, and Lois had been scrolling through her TikTok for way longer than she would normally allow. But she was honestly counting down the minutes until she could go home. Clark was currently editing their copy of their most recent story. Once he was done with that, they could go home.

She sighed and swiveled her chair to see him. He was scribbling away at the paper copy. Seems she really was tired, if he needed to use that much red ink.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Lois went ahead and asked, “Hey, Clark, what would you say is your Kryptonite?”

Clark didn’t look up from the copy, but he did pause, clearly thinking. “Uhh, Kryptonite?”

Lois very nearly explained that she was asking about the trend when she realized he wasn’t asking for clarification. That was his answer. He was just confused why on Earth she was asking.

“I don’t know what you really want me to say…?” He looked up at her, his expression a mix of confusion and humor.

Lois dropped her head onto her desk. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just asked that. I’m so dumb. You married an idiot, Clark.”

And that got Clark to throw his head back and laugh.

Clark’s chair had been broken for a while. Lois was the one who broke it—it was so long ago she honestly couldn’t tell you how—but it wasn’t broken enough for Perry to get him a new one. But the suddenness and the intensity of his laughter for sure won him a new chair. Because there was a loud crack! of the chair breaking and then the loud crash! of Clark and the chair pieces hitting the ground. He was still laughing. If anything, the chair breaking made him laugh harder.

“Oh my God!” Lois exclaimed. She’d long stopped asking him if he was okay when things like this happened. “Ugh! I’m gonna go get Perry,” she grumbled, standing from her, perfectly unbroken, chair.

Clark’s laughs turned into wheezes. “What’s my Kryptonite?”

Lois kicked him in the side. He only laughed harder, curling in on himself some.

She marched her way to the door of their shared office.

“Hey, Lois?” Clark asked, now on his knees and resting his arms on the desk. When he saw that he had her attention, he asked, “What’s your Kryptonite?”

She just slammed the door as she left.

Chapter Text

Lois and Clark had a habit of falling asleep in their living room. It had started when they were dating, and it had never stopped. Although, to be fair, they had gotten better at falling asleep while doing work, not just watching tv like it had been in the early days of their dating relationship.

Clark could usually out last Lois when it came to doing work. He was usually the one to fall asleep—or in instances where they both fell asleep, he was the first to go—when they were watching tv on the couch, but when it came to falling asleep at the kitchen table or in the living room while working on a story it was Lois who usually fell asleep.

When this happened, Clark would usually find a stopping point—there were a few times this meant finishing what they were working on—and carefully put everything away, or at least stack things neatly, before carrying her to bed so she wouldn’t be stiff and sore in the morning.

But when Clark fell asleep?

There was no way in hell Lois was going to be able to move him, especially not without waking him up. And since he was tired enough to fall asleep while working, she definitely didn’t want to disturb him. Fortunately, though, his invulnerability would spare him the discomfort in the morning.

She did the best she could, though. And this meant finding a stopping point—though she was already at one when she’d looked up to find Clark out cold—and organizing their mess. She hadn’t finished anything, so she didn’t put their notes and things away quite yet, but she did clean up the table some.

She also did her best to tuck Clark up in a blanket. He didn’t necessarily need it, but it was the thought that counted. Clark would do the same for her—if he decided to leave her at the table instead of carry her to bed, that is.

Then she went to bed. When she finished up her nightly routine, she poked her head back into the kitchen. Clark hadn’t budged.

She caught the clock right before she plugged her phone up and went to sleep. It was barely past midnight, which was sort of an early night for them. But somewhere in the five ish years they’d worked together—and especially in the two years they’d been married—Clark had become her clock, in a way. When he did things, like get up or eat or go to bed, she did those things. It got her into a much healthier schedule, and it just made sense. They more or less had the same life, after all. This was why she decided to call it a night when she’d found him asleep.

Lois woke up absolutely parched at about five in the morning. That was when she noticed a large, dark shadow at the foot of her bed. She nearly pissed herself. And then immediately assumed it was Batman. And then noticed that Clark’s side of the bed was entirely empty, and the sheets were cold. And that’s when she recognized the blanket she’d tucked around Clark.

“Why’d you leave me in there b’m’slf?” he asked. And his voice was so low and rough that it really didn’t make him seem less like an eldritch horror.

“Shut the fuck up and get in bed,” she demanded, heart still hammering due to the scare he gave her.

Clark grumbled, “Don’t swear at me.” Lois couldn’t be sure because she couldn’t see his face, but she was willing to bet he was pouting. He started crawling into bed. And she literally meant crawl, since he didn’t walk around to the side. “It was scary.”

He flopped down beside her, still wrapped in the blanket she’d tucked around him. “Aw, my poor, poor Superman,” Lois cooed, voice saccharine.

Clark had curled up around her and buried his head in her neck. He nodded at her words, making his curls tickle her sensitive skin. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

“Are you gonna get under the blankets?” she prompted, wanting to snuggle him better and without the blankets he was currently resting on top of from pulling too tightly across her.

“’M already in the blankets,” he replied.

“No, honey, you’re in the couch blanket, not the bed blanket,” she explained. She vaguely thought she sounded like she was talking to a toddler and not a sleepy, grown ass man.

“Oh,” Clark whispered like he hadn’t realized.

He lazily floated up and unwound himself from the blanket he’d wrapped himself up in like a burrito. This gave Lois the perfect opportunity to sit up and yank all the blankets towards herself. He floated back down onto the bed and made himself comfortable with the blankets he immediately confiscated from her while she finally drank some much-needed water.

“’M sorry,” he murmured once they’d resumed their spooning.

“Why?” Lois asked, barely keeping her eyes open now that they were comfortable. She kept herself awake by playing with his curls.

“Fer scaring you,” he answered, accent thick due to his sleepiness.

“You can make it up to me in cuddles,” she soothed, pulling him just a bit tighter. He hummed and held her closer in response.

They both were out in seconds.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane was first and foremostly a woman. So, like any woman, she devoted some brain function to observing eye-candy.

Which is why she initially dismissed the green reporter, Kant or whatever, upon meeting him. He just wasn’t worth the brain power.

And eventually it took a while—and a lot of sweet, innocent, entirely genuine gestures on his part—for her to look at him, really look at him. And sure, at first glance, all there was to him was an ill-fitting suit, an old-fashioned pair of glasses, and a kind yet lopsided smile.

But at second glance, she saw the broadness of his shoulders, the lively twinkle in his icy blue eyes, and the adorable dimples in his cheeks.

And when she started noticing those things, she realized he was worth a closer look. Which is how she saw the sharp jawline, slender yet sturdy frame, full kissable lips, and gorgeously thick hair that if she could only help him comb—

Anyway.

He was tall, tanned, and kind. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Lois had to admit, if only to herself, that Clark Kent was classically handsome. But even if he wasn’t, he would have been incredibly surprisingly attractive because of his heart.

So yeah, every now and then she would admire him for a brief brain break. Once again, she was a woman; she did devote some brain power to admiring eye-candy. Sue her if she had a constant fix. It didn’t mean she was attracted to him.

It had taken her seven months and fifteen days to realize and then admit (to herself) that Clark Kent was actually not half bad looking. It took her twenty-six months and seventeen days more to finally admit that she was completely, definitely attracted to him.

And it had only taken the office (minus Clark himself) fifteen months to realize this—fifteen months from the moment Lois and Clark met each other, that is. It took Clark an extra seventeen to piece things together, and even then he wasn’t very confident.

After two whole months of denying her attraction to everyone—including, futilely, herself—Lois finally said yes when Clark asked her out. If it hadn’t been for literally the entire office encouraging him—he’d asked her out semi-regularly for a four-month period—he would have quit after the fifth attempt.

Nearly six months after their first date, she and Clark had gotten nearly inseparable, and she saw all of his attractiveness firsthand. Including, but not limited to, his surprising and impressive musculature, the dorky fanboy side of him he rarely let out, and the true depth of his sheer goodness (she figured out he was Superman).

The conclusion that he moonlights during broad daylight as Metropolis’ favorite alien hero confused her. On one hand, that brought so many attractive qualities into the light for her. On the other, why hadn’t he told her?

She only had to wait a little over three months before he finally admitted what she already knew. And his nervousness about even broaching the topic made things click in her head. In that moment, he quiet protectiveness and apparent anxiety of disappointing her was surprisingly beautiful to see. His complete honesty was less surprising but no less beautiful.

And that’s when she got to see all of him. And if he wasn’t the most breathtaking thing she’d ever laid eyes on (it was because she hadn’t yet seen him on their wedding day, or the day they discovered they were pregnant, or the day they welcomed their son into the world, or…).

Lois was first and foremostly a woman. After that, she was a reporter—the best in the world. And as a pitfall of her occupation, she often found herself… tied up. These circumstances, she’d found, often proved the perfect opportunity for quiet reflection (when a girl’s fiancée was Superman, she usually didn’t have to worry about her safety in these situations). And in her reflection, she realized that Clark was more and more handsome every time she looked at him. Because every time, she found something else to fall in love with all over again. Whether that was how one dimple was ever so slightly deeper than the other, or the way his retractable canines would come out a little when he was really hungry, or the way that one lock of stubborn hair frustrated him to no end, or the way he slept with his mouth open just barely when he was getting some particularly good rest, or the way he unconsciously cuddled into her in his sleep when he sensed she was working herself into a state, or the way he frowned in that very specific way when he was worried about her safety…

“Oh, hey, honey,” she greeted, coming out of her ruminations. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Or the way he huffed and tried to hide a relieved smile when she quipped about her current predicament.

“I would fancy meeting you at a nicer joint,” he replied, bending to snap the restraints binding her arms to the chair she was placed in.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she chided, messaging her slightly sore wrists. “And you really outta give a girl a heads up for that, anyhow.”

“Tomorrow at seven, then?” he replied suavely, stooping further to free her ankles.

She had to give him the credit, that was a pretty good follow through. “It’s a date.” She stretched out of the chair and hopped up so she could sling an arm over his shoulders and around his neck. He quickly caught her legs as she swung them up for that exact reason. “Fly me home?” she requested with a kiss on his cheek.

And didn’t he look the most handsome sprawled across her couch, tucked up in his hoodie and a blanket, looking like he was about to fall asleep as they watched an old Disney movie.

Sure, he was Superman and there were times he looked ethereal, completely majestic, and positively royal. But it was these moments, where they were both in his sweats and matching fuzzy socks, when he looked the best.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane had been around the world a couple times. It was the story of her life. Her first world tours were thanks to her father’s job. Being an army brat meant going new places every couple of months. She had a weird education in part because she was razor sharp but mostly because she was in a new education system after maybe a quarter of the school year. If she could make a full semester, she was lucky.

Her next world tours were thanks to her job. She had the opportunity to travel some in college, but she had the ‘been there, done that’ philosophy. That same philosophy helped her in her career—she wasn’t afraid to go somewhere solo because chances were, she’d already been there before.

All that to say, she’d heard the saying before, in many different ways, in many different languages, in many different cultures. The saying? Someone who loves you will speak your language.

Lois had always thought it meant love language. The person who loves you will love you in your love language. That’s what she interpreted the saying as, anyway.

And she never thought much more about it. Until she was well established as a reporter and had won several Kerths and two very shiny Pulitzer Prizes. Because that was when Perry assigned her yet another partner. But this time, she didn’t run him off. He stubbornly—in that kind, endlessly patient way of his—refused to be intimidated by her.

But that wasn’t him speaking her language. No. That was him annoying her to no end.

Lois knew she was difficult to work with. She had the walls around her for a reason. She didn’t need nor want anyone to help her or get close to her. She was known as the ice queen around the office. But she felt she had to be this way, for a number of reasons. Firstly, her childhood, full of constant redeployments in the General’s job, meant she couldn’t get close to people because she wasn’t going to be there for long. Then, in college, it meant saving the energy of being the person people came to for help on homework and studying, etc. In her career, it meant not getting scooped or one-upped.

She’d been places, developed strange habits, collected some isms from the many different places she’d—not quite lived in... camped at? —stayed at during her father’s deployments. And this was another reason she was hard to work with: people didn’t understand her nor her process.

And then Clark Kent showed up. And followed her around for somewhere around six months. He was constantly confused. And Lois knew this was in part due to her confusing way of working, but no insignificant amount of his confusion was also due to his general life adjustments to the big city.

But after six months, he seemed to have the hang of things. And that’s when he started working with her.

And not just as her coworker. Not just as the journalistic partner and frequent pre-editor.

No, he started working with her. As in, he understood her process and could follow it and even use it himself.

And for a while, she was very freaked out by this. She tried to push him away even harder than before. But he remained steadfast, unmoving. As if he anticipated this happening. And if he knew her process, this was probably true.

He’d never once asked her how she liked her coffee. But he’d noticed. And somehow, in the months they’d worked together, she’d stopped getting her own coffee because she knew he would be there to give her one.

Somehow, he seemed to know when she was craving some sloppy, cheesy Philly versus when she wanted something more like the nice, clean Caesar wrap for the lunch she very frequently forgot to break for. She was also confident her water intake had shot through the roof, as well.

And then there was his uncanny ability to read and understand her notes.

She had long mastered the ability to take short-hand notes. And quickly, at that. This meant her handwriting was absolutely awful, though. There were times she didn’t even understand what she wrote. Though, she was always able to figure things out via context clues. Jimmy once tried to read her notes and claimed she was writing with an alien alphabet. But then Clark Kent rolled around and when she’d warned him that she had terrible handwriting, he’d shrugged and said he’d let her know if he had questions. And then he didn’t have any. He’d been able to read her doctor’s handwriting. He did make fun of it, despite this. (Her one attempt at payback was utterly futile since his shorthand was even worse than hers. If Jimmy thought she was writing with an alien alphabet, he should see Clark’s notes).

As their partnership continued, there were times where Lois showed up entirely unannounced at his apartment for one reason or another. Most frequently, this was because she wasn’t done working and needed to go over notes with him, use him as a sounding board, or get his perspective on an issue that was particularly bothersome.

There were also times where she was being paranoid or had legitimate reason she shouldn’t be alone at night and showed up at his place to crash. His response was always surprising to her: ‘Sure, Lois. Just let me change the sheets and grab some blankets. I’ll take the couch.’ Like, what type of person just gives the guest the one bed in the apartment? Every fucking time she pulled this shit.

And then there were the times she panicked about something or another and went to him for comfort. Too many of these occasions consisted of her looking very obviously like she’d just been through some shit. And every time he wouldn’t even bat an eye, unquestionably welcome her into his humble abode, and inform her he was ordering takeout.

But to make matters worse, there were times when she panicked for something or another and instead of her going to his, he showed up at hers. As if he knew that she was struggling; as if he knew she needed his comfort. And since she apparently was equipped with a shovel at her rock bottom, he knew to go to her closet and pull out one of the many sweatshirts she’d subtly, secretly stolen from his closet. And he silently, kindly, offered it to her. And then he would gently shepherd her into the kitchen where he would make her tea and somehow, magically, create something not only edible but tasty out of what little she had in her apartment.

Lois couldn’t remember a time in her life where she’d ever felt as seen as Clark made her feel. He noticed the little things, seldom questioned her (when he did, it was only in matters of her safety), and was always there when she needed him to be.

And that realization sparked her understanding of the saying. Honestly, Clark did speak her love language. But that wasn’t it. He spoke her gibberish. Hell, he even understood what she meant when she was actually rambling in half-formed words and sentences. He literally spoke her gibberish, and he could read it, as well. And all her attempts to shoo him away, all her mixed signals she knew she was giving him, all the non-verbal gibberish, well, he understood that, too.

He truly, legitimately spoke all her languages.

Clark Kent had a heart of gold. He was the best person she had ever met, and she’d met a lot of people. Lois Lane was rough around the edges but liked to think she was a pretty good person, deep down. And learning to love Clark taught her that there was more good buried inside her than she was willing to give herself credit for. That’s the conclusion she came to, at least. Since there wasn’t really any other explanation as to why Clark Kent had quickly, silently, unquestionably handed her his heart for her to keep.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane struggled to love. She blamed her childhood for that.

For a long time, this didn’t necessarily bother her. Until Clark Kent walked into her life, and he just loved so easily.

She didn’t trust it at first. She thought he was too good to be true. But somewhere along the way, she started counting on his easy love; that’s when she had to face facts and admit that he wasn’t too good to be true.

By the time she admitted to herself that she did love Clark, she knew that he already knew it, too. She’d never said as much out loud, in those words. But he was an incredibly emotionally intelligent man, and he was more capable of reading between her lines than she was.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. She’d figured out Clark was Superman, but they hadn’t talked about it yet—there was a strong possibility he wasn’t aware she knew. The night before, Superman had a pretty rough go around with Toyman. Lois would bet her bottom dollar that Lex Luthor was involved to some capacity, though, because there were far too many close calls for Clark. He wasn’t doing a good job of concealing winces.

They were lounging on his couch, watching a movie. She was curled up into his side, being careful not to move too much so as to not aggravate his injuries. She wasn’t sure what was hurting him and didn’t want to risk hurting him further.

She was about to suggest they order takeout when she felt him stiffen. Seeing as though she hadn’t budged, Lois concluded that he was listening to something.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he spoke up. “Ah, shoot, Lo. I completely forgot I was supposed to pick up my dry cleaning.”

Lois didn’t move an inch. “Better go now then, I think they close soon.” She had no idea what time it was.

“Ugh,” Clark groaned. And for a moment Lois thought he actually had left his dry cleaning. She did her best to choke down a laugh when she realized that he was just happy where he was and didn’t want to move. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”

“I’m gonna browse for food while you’re gone. Let me know when you’re about to be home so I can order it.”

Clark kissed her hairline as he finally managed to get off the couch. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll eat whatever.”

“Hey,” Lois caught his wrist. His eyes were so blue when he faced her. The sun was reflecting off them just right… “Be safe.” He wasn’t at his best, right now; he could be hurt.

Clark seemed confused for a moment. “I—” he seemed to want to remind her that he was only going for drycleaning before he gave up and instead said, “I will,” with the softest smile Lois had ever been given.

Lois hadn’t seen Clark in two days. He was running around doing Superman things. There had been a bad Earthquake and Clark, of course, was doing whatever he could do help.

She had spent the weekend at his place, waiting for him to come home. And she was just sitting at his kitchen counter to eat her takeout—she only ever attempted to cook while in Clark’s presence—when he did exactly that.

He looked exhausted. And he was positively filthy.

“Don’t put your feet on the floor, handsome. Dirt and mud are much easier to clean if there aren’t any.”

That earned a tired chuckle from Clark, who stayed three inches off the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Ew, no. Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ I’m your girlfriend, not some stranger.”

 Clark’s second chuckle had a little more life in it. “Roger that.”

“That’s more like it,” Lois declared, nodding once before taking a bite of her chow mien.

Clark disappeared in a blur of red. Lois successfully took four more bites of her food when she felt him press his chest to her back and wrap himself around her. She giggled when he rested his head on hers.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, words stilted due to the way his cheek was smooshed against the top of her head.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I missed you,” she said just as a drop of water from his freshly washed hair splashed onto her forehead. “Ugh, I take it back. Get off me until your hair is dry.”

Clark’s chuckle sounded more normal already. “What d’you mean?” he asked innocently, unwrapping himself from her.

She knew immediately what that meant. “Clark, no—!” Too late. The fiend started shaking his head, sending water droplets everywhere. “Clark!” she screeched; she would almost say he cackled, if the sound hadn’t been so lighthearted.

He didn’t do it for long. And she heard the woosh of him going somewhere at superspeed before he returned to slump onto her once more. She reached a hand up to test his hair and was pleased to discover it was damp, but definitely not dripping.

He seemed content to just stay there, awkwardly slumped around her. And since he usually slumped in his day-to-day, she wouldn’t be surprised if this was true. But she had more pressing concerns than his posture.

“Did you eat?” she asked, knowing his answer already.

He sighed, releasing her in favor of the box of Pad Thai she slid to the side for him. He sat down and scooted his barstool to be as close to hers as physically possible. She didn’t mind the way he pressed their sides together almost entirely. She did find it funny when he started eating with his left hand, though, since his right was busy entangling itself around her left arm.

She was a little shocked that she was dangerously tempted to tell him she loved him in this moment.

Something happened in Clark’s family. Lois wasn’t quite sure what happened but knew someone on Martha’s side of the family had passed. And whichever relative this was happened to be causing quite the commotion. 

The whole thing was a mess, and Clark didn’t have many answers—particularly since he wasn’t close with his extended family. Lois wasn’t even sure he’d even met most of them.

Regardless, Clark needed to fly out to upper Kansas where the deceased had lived. And of course, he had to use the actual airplane instead of just fly there himself, since it would be weird if he spawned into the town or claimed to have driven up with his parents.

Clark, in an effort to get out of flying on a plane, had said he could claim he’d driven up with his parents. Ma and Pa had vetoed this because it wouldn’t make sense for Clark to fly to Smallville first when the flights out from Metropolis took him closer to upper Kansas anyway. But Ma and Pa would be there to pick him up from the airport.

He wasn’t pleased by this. He hated airplanes. But he also knew he needed to leave a paper trail.

“Call me when you reach home,” Lois asked, handing him the prepurchased tickets for his flight as he hefted his carry-on over his shoulder.

“Wish I was going home,” Clark mumbled, pouting at his general circumstances.

“Yeah, whatever; when you get there,” she corrected. “Really, Clark.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will. When I land, or?” Clark acquiesced.

“I wanna be on speaker with Ma and Pa.”

“Done deal,” he confirmed, finally, grudgingly, taking the tickets Lois was holding out for him.

Despite using them for a living, words made Lois very uncomfortable. Three words in particular. She had long known that she loved Clark, but she hadn’t quite been able to tell him in those words exactly.

Infuriatingly, he seemed to know this as well. But he was fine with it. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. Because he loved her, too. And loving her came with her inability to express her mushy feelings.

Recently, though, Lois had been a little on edge about it. And, as a result, she’d picked up crocheting as a stress-reliever. And her favorite thing to make were flowers. They were pretty easy to make, in her opinion. And she was the type of woman who didn’t really care for real flowers because they usually died so fast. But crocheted flowers? They’d never die.

Clark had been off world for the past week, and Lois hadn’t realized how much time they usually spent together until she was crocheting way more than usual to fill her spare time.

Curse Clark and his magical ability to make her have a better work-life balance without her even realizing it.

But in all the time she had, she had crocheted a sizable bouquet of flowers. She organized them in a mason jar she’d found in the back of one of Clark’s cabinets.

That done, she decided to turn on the tv. The news was displaying the Justice League’s return to Earth. What perfect timing. Lois could probably anticipate Clark’s return home within a couple hours.

To busy herself, she cleaned the kitchen. Clark was a neat person by nature, so his kitchen was largely clean. But Lois had taken up residence here in his absence—she missed him, sue her—and had generated some mess.

The last thing she did was straighten the flowers she had made. It was at this moment she realized she’d crocheted a handful of Clark’s favorites.

She had unconsciously crocheted him flowers. Did that make her a simp?

She was contemplating this when Clark entered through the window.

“Welcome home,” Lois greeted. “I made you this,” she informed him, gesturing cooly to the flowers, trying to be nonchalant about it.

Clark looked touched. “They’re beautiful. You did a great job,” he remarked, coming closer. “How long have you crocheted?”

“Eh, a couple months now,” Lois answered, moving around the counter to give Clark a brief hug and a kiss. “Now go shower so we can curl up on the couch and watch tv.”

Clark laughed into another kiss. “Yes, Miss Lane.”

Lois had called upon Superman for help with her story. Not Clark, using powers in disguise, but actually Superman, cape and all.

She regrated it hugely in this moment, since the whole thing had been a trap. And Clark was very much not okay.

Fortunately, she had been able to escape, dragging Clark the entire way out. He was barely conscious. She’d tucked him in an alley and had walked just outside it to the main street and had gotten incredibly lucky to find someone willing to let her borrow their phone.

She called the Planet and had them put Jimmy on the line.

“I need you to come get me,” Lois started. She then gave Jimmy her location. And the demand to hurry. She then thanked the man who let her borrow his phone when she handed it back to him.

She hurried back to Clark’s side and waited, minutes passing slowly as Clark’s breathing remained inconsistent and labored.

Clark was in and out of consciousness, but she did manage to convey to him that Jimmy was coming to get them. It wasn’t long after she got the message across that Jimmy appeared at the end of the alley.

“Lois?” he called. “I brought blankets like you asked.”

“Jimmy! Over here!” she beckoned from where she was mostly hidden behind the dumpster.

“So what’s going on—Oh my God!” Jimmy interrupted himself when he saw a very sick Superman.

“We need to get him somewhere safe,” Lois stated.

“My apartment isn’t very far. And I have a few big windows,” Jimmy managed, quickly shifting gears as he realized the seriousness of the situation. He helped Lois sit the unconscious superhero up and wrap him in blankets to hide the bright reds and blues. “I’ll do an illegal and get my car on the sidewalk.”

It took them two minutes to get Superman out of the alley and into Jimmy’s car. Lois kind of crashed into the backseat with Superman but stayed there to support him while Jimmy drove them to his apartment. They didn’t think anyone noticed what they were doing.

Jimmy’s apartment was a good idea since it also had its own parking garage, which made it less likely for people to see them. They took Superman’s boots and cape off and left them in the car to make him look more normal. Jimmy would come back and get them after they got Superman into the apartment.

“Do you have anything he can wear?” Lois asked, already assuming no.

“I have some sweatpants that are too big for me, but they probably will be super short on him,” Jimmy replied.

“We can try.”

Jimmy was right, they were too short. But he had fuzzy socks that made up the difference. Jimmy also had an oversized sweatshirt that actually fit Superman perfectly. Lois wasn’t sure if Clark would agree if he were awake, though. He tended to enjoy oversized things as well; Lois hoped he wouldn’t feel claustrophobic in something that actually fit.

“I’ll go get some more first-aid stuff. I don’t think I have enough of the right things here,” Jimmy said. “And I’ll bring the boots and cape up when I get back.”

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Lois murmured as he left.

She brushed Clark’s hair out of his face. They had him situated on the couch, which they’d moved by the window. Jimmy had a recliner that had been his uncle’s at one time. It worked well for Clark, since without the recliner he would have been too tall to possibly be comfortable on the couch.

“C’mon, Clark,” she mumbled, “I need you to be okay.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. He was burning up. “I love you,” she whispered to him right before she got off the couch to find a cold compress.

She missed the way his lips turned upwards in a weak smile. It was the best he could manage.

Chapter Text

Zatanna usually left the Justice League out of her dealings. Particularly since so few of them had some level of immunity to magic. But every now and again, one of the Leaguers would inevitably get dragged into one of the messes she usually had to clean up.

It just so happened that Superman, one of the most magically susceptible individuals—and the most dangerous in that circumstance—in the Justice League, was dragged into this magical mayhem by none other than Lois Lane.

Two people that Zatanna definitely did not want poking their noses into this business. She didn’t want Superman here because he was a massive liability. She didn’t want Lois Lane here because she had an excellent track record for either getting herself into trouble or causing trouble to happen.

It was like trouble spontaneously combusted into existence around the woman. Honestly, Zatanna should look into any latent magical abilities the reporter might have. It wouldn’t be good for an untrained magical being to be anywhere near Superman, much less in some type of complicated quasi-romantic relationship with him.

Zatanna wasn’t quite sure what or who her target was, but she knew there was some dangerous levels of magic being tossed around willy-nilly. She half expected Constantine to be the culprit. But as soon as she saw Lois Lane, she knew that couldn’t truly be the case.

It was a long and messy situation. The spellcaster was clearly a novice, but if there was one thing a novice was good at, it was causing chaos. There were stampedes of bunnies, random fireworks of scarves and handkerchiefs, swirling patterns on the walls and floor. It was very difficult to do anything, let alone track down the magic user.

Through all the chaos, somehow, Zatanna, Lois Lane, and Superman ended in what used to be a board room, probably, but was warped by the magic that was centered in it. Lois Lane was… handcuffed? Zatanna couldn’t really tell from her angle… Lois Lane was probably handcuffed to the floor with her arms being her back. Zatanna herself was tied up with some of the scarves that had been exploding out of thin air. And Superman was… freestanding. And it wasn’t like he’d broken his bonds. The magician had never tied him up in the first place.

“Sine amore praeterita, sed vir pulcher ante me, o spirituum, fac ut mihi cor suum det,” the spellcaster chanted, waving and gesturing to Superman.

Zatanna didn’t even want to acknowledge how many language mistakes this novice was making as she stumbled over her, very terrible, Latin. She wasn’t very surprised when nothing happened. That’s what you get for butchering the language you—

Zatanna’s internal monologue was cut off by the spellcaster chanting another incantation, this time to bind Superman in a… rather suggestive posture.

Well, okay, so her bad grammar and stuff works, she admitted to herself.

“Why didn’t it work?” the spellcaster whined, echoing Zatanna’s own, much less distraught, thoughts.  

Zatanna laughed as she realized. “Sweetheart,” Zatanna purred, not knowing why she chose that word when it wasn’t something she usually used. “You just tried to cast a spell on a man for him to give you something that isn’t even his to give. He can’t possibly give you his heart because it already belongs to someone else.”

Clark had never felt more objectified in his life. He hated magic with a burning passion. First, this silly spellcaster tried to make him fall in love with her—thank God spells used very specific language—and it didn’t work because, in accordance with the language used, he didn’t have the ability to fulfill the spell.

He thanked his lucky stars that the spellcaster phrased it ‘have him give me his heart’ instead of ‘have him fall in love with me’ because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his heart wasn’t his to give anymore. He’d already given it to someone else.

But then this chick, in an effort to make sure her magic still worked, tied him up like a pin-up model. He felt so exposed, despite being completely suited up.

And then Zatanna had to go and expose him further by revealing to the spellcaster why her spell didn’t work.

Oh no. Zatanna revealed why. Oh no. Please, he thought, please don’t try another love spell. He didn’t want one with mildly different language to work. Magic users, as a rule, weren’t his type. Not to mention his heart belonged to the only non-magic user in the room.

Lois’ Latin was admittedly, spotty. But this bitch’s horrible syntax and grammar made it really hard for Lois to understand what she was trying to cast.

She did understand that the asshat thought Superman was handsome—who doesn’t? —and that she was probably trying to cast a love spell because of romantic issues in the past. She was pretty sure this was the case.

She was also pretty sure the spell didn’t work. Particularly when the Justice League Magic Lady looked confused and the shitfuck magic user looked irate.

But she had to hand it to the bitchy witch, Superman looked very nice as a pin-up. Even if his face was as red as his cape.

She wished she had a picture of this. She’d suspected Superman was Clark Kent for some time; she and Clark had been dating for about seven months, and she’d suspected Clark was Superman for about three, but she hadn’t confirmed this yet because she’d been waiting for Clark to tell her himself. Regardless of if Superman was actually Clark or not (though she sincerely doubted she was wrong), this scene was pure gold.

And honestly, Superman’s embarrassment at his current predicament was so honestly Clark that Lois knew she was right.

Lois’ thoughts were continuing on this train until the Justice League Magic Lady mocked the bitchy witch.

“Sweetheart,” she purred. “You just tried to cast a spell on a man for him to give you something that isn’t even his to give. He can’t possibly give you his heart because it already belongs to someone else.”

Lois’ first reaction was an intense, heart wrenching ache in her chest. Superman’s heart belonged to someone else. And Superman, being Superman, was probably in love with some other metahuman, like Wonder Woman, who was a literal goddess and princess and had strength that matched Superman’s.

But then Lois remembered that Superman was (probably) Clark Kent. And Clark Kent was in love with Lois Lane. So Lois’ next reaction was such intense elation and joy that she felt dizzy with the sudden shift of emotion.

Bitchy witch’s spell didn’t work because Superman’s heart was in Lois Lane’s hands. He had given her his heart for her to safeguard, from magic apparently.

She held Superman’s heart in her hands.

Superman entrusted Lois Lane to have and to hold his heart.

Wait. Was that where that wedding vow came from?

And that errant thought was how Lois Lane realized that she was well and truly in love with Clark Kent. If he asked her tomorrow to marry him, her answer would be yes (after confronting him about being Superman, of course).

Clark Kent gave Lois Lane his heart for her to keep. And now, Lois Lane finally felt like she could give her heart away, too. After all, there was no safer place for it than in Superman’s hands.

Zatanna didn’t miss the emotions that flickered across everyone’s faces after she spoke.

The amateur spellcaster looked crestfallen, like love had disappointed her yet again.

Lois Lane looked devastated for about two seconds before she looked like she was over the moon.

Superman looked shocked and a little scared. Why would he be…?

Oh. Did Lois Lane not know that she… or maybe it was that the spellcaster could try again with better language. That was probably it.

“Esaeler su!” Zatanna commanded. “Dinb eht ecivon daetsni.”

Easy peasy, the spellcaster was bound in her own scarves and Lois Lane, Superman, and Zatanna were free.

“tcetorp namrepuS dna sioL enaL morf eht s’ecivon slleps,” she whispered, wanting to keep them safe until she could get the spellcaster and her magic under control.

Out of thin air, a gag appeared around the spellcaster’s mouth, preventing her from uttering any incantations.

“I’ll handle clean up duty, Superman,” Zatanna offered, hinting that he could take his lady friend and go. It seems they had things they needed to discuss, whether he knew it yet or not. She doubted he’d seen the emotions filter across Lois Lane’s face earlier.

“I can help,” Superman started to insist.

“Naelc pu!” Zatanna gave Superman a look that read: ‘See? You’re not needed here.’

“Well, if you insist,” he replied, backing down. “I’m sure you’re much better equipped to handle Ms. Magic over there,” he gestured to the spellcaster, “so, I’ll just give Ms. Lane a lift home.”

“I’ll see you at the next meeting,” Zatanna offered as a dismissal, since Superman was so polite as to request one, if informally.  

“Yes, I’ll see you then,” he confirmed before moving toward Lois Lane, who’d stayed a respectable distance away.

Zatanna didn’t care to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“So, your heart belongs to someone else,” Lois started, voice unreadable.

“It certainly seems that way,” Superman replied, careful to keep things neutral.

“Wonder Woman?” Lois asked, knowing the answer but needing to confirm anyway.

“No,” Superman denied honestly.

“Knew it.”

That got Superman to look at her funny. “Then why’d you ask?”

“Mostly to mess with you,” she admitted. “You make it pretty easy, Clark.”

And he almost dropped her then. She seemed to have anticipated that, though, and had grasped him harder around his neck.

“How long have you known?” he asked, stopping them in the sky so he could look at her fully.

“Confirmed just now,” she grinned. “But I’ve been reasonably confident about it for three months or so.”

“I see.”

“Why haven’t you told me?” she asked, needing this answer more than anything.

He looked away, clearly trying to organize his thoughts. She played with the hair at the back of his neck to tell him she wasn’t upset. It seemed to help.

“It’s complicated. I know I should have told you a while ago, and honestly, I’ve been trying to for a while now. I keep losing my nerve.”

“Why?”

He groaned. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“You don’t—I always—” he groaned again, frustration evident. “When I’m with you, I feel human. And I don’t like feeling different, and I was afraid things would change when you knew.”

“But they didn’t,” she pointed out. “You didn’t even know I knew.”

Clark’s eyes widened, things clicking for him that apparently hadn’t yet. “They didn’t,” he smiled. He hugged her tighter. She wasn’t sure, but she thought they also flew up a little higher.

“How long have I had your heart then?” she asked once they were moving again.

“I’m not really sure,” he answered. “A while.”

She hummed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He set her gently on the floor of her living room. “I’m not sure how long you’ve had mine, either. But I learned today that you do.”

She doesn’t remember a time where Clark had kissed her more passionately.

And a year later, on their wedding day, they both included how they trusted the other to safeguard their heart in their vows.

Chapter Text

It was a slow day in the office. Which was a very rare occurrence in and of itself. But Lois, Clark, Jimmy, Cat, and Steve were gathered in the breakroom playing stupid games with each other. They’d built towers out of sugar cubes, played the cup stack game until the plastic cups broke, and were currently starting a staring contest battle.

“I can beat anyone in a staring contest,” Lois stated, tone booking no room for argument.

“I bet I could beat you,” Clark argued, soft smile tugging his lips in that gentle way that Lois secretly adored.

“I’d like to see that,” Cat cheered. “Someone needs to knock Lois down a peg or two.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Kansas,” Steve warned. “I tried to beat Lois in an arm wrestle once. She kicked me in the nethers and won.”

Lois shrugged. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“That wasn’t very lovely of you, Lane.”

“Steve,” Jimmy started, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Shame on you for not knowing Lois would do whatever it takes to win.”

“Shame,” Cat nodded wisely.

“Everyone knows that, Steve,” Clark continued, looking disappointed that Steve would try and make an argument.

“And you still think you can beat me at a staring contest?” Lois asked.

Clark turned to her, smile returning. “Yes.”

He seemed so confident in himself. Lois predicted that he would lose with his typical humble grace.

“You’re on, Smallville.”

They faced each other and closed their eyes. Cat counted down. “Three. Two. One. Go!”

They stared, wide eyed, at each other for probably thirty seconds. That’s when Lois started squinting her eyes in a determined methodology. Clark narrowed his eyes as well, but not in a determined squint.

No.

Clark hooded his eyes halfway and started leaning closer to Lois. He opened his mouth ever so slightly…

With a start, Lois realized. He was going in for a kiss.  

What the hell?

She did the natural thing to do in this situation and reeled back, shoving him away.

“What the fuck, Kansas?” she asked, seething.

Clark straightened and looked incredibly smug. “I win.”

“What?” Lois asked. She was about to demand what bet he won when Cat spoke.

“Shit, she blinked.”

Lois whirled around to face Cat, Jimmy, and Steve. “No.”

“You did,” Jimmy whispered, mesmerized.

 “Oh my fuck,” Steve murmured. “A taste of your own medicine.”

She turned back to face Clark, who looked far too pleased with himself.

“You—!” She pointed at him, like that would help her chew him out.

“I…?” Clark prompted.

Lois couldn’t help but replay their staring contest in her mind. He had played dirty. She was largely upset because she hadn’t expected that from Clark of all people. She was impressed, in part. He had given her a taste of her own medicine. And he was probably the only person who could get away with it, too.

Lois didn’t like the large part of her that felt this way only because Clark’s lips usually looked very kissable.

And the staring contest had her staring directly into Clark’s eyes. And she’d honestly never noticed exactly how pretty they were. She had also noticed that the glasses dulled the color of his skin. It made her wonder how his eyes looked without the glasses.

Speaking of those pretty eyes, he was currently still looking at her, waiting for her to continue.

She huffed, dropping her finger that was still pointed at him. Instead, she grabbed his tie and tugged him out of the room. Their coworkers probably thought she was going to chew him out in private. He thought that was the case, too, since he immediately started apologizing for his actions. He was going on about it maybe being a little creepy of him and how he hadn’t meant it as any form of harassment or whatever.

She didn’t care.

She was too focused on finding the closest, emptiest room she could find. Which happened to be a closet. She briefly considered the cliché of it all before shoving him inside and shutting the door behind them.

She shut up all his stupid, pointless apologizing by shoving him against the wall and pulling him down to meet her lips.

He was obviously surprised, and for a moment, Lois was worried she was the one doing the harassing. But he pressed back into her as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

Which was fair, she couldn’t either.

“If you’re gonna threaten to kiss me,” she breathed when they pulled back, “at least make good on it.”

“I didn’t think you wanted everyone to know we were seeing each other,” he replied, just as softly.

Lois kissed him sweetly. Then she kissed him again because she could. “I don’t.”

Clark smiled into another kiss. “We might,” kiss, “have a problem.”

It was Lois’ turn to smile against him then. “Now that we’ve started, we can’t stop?” she guessed, speaking the words into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, moving to the corner of her mouth and down her jaw.

“I think this,” she paused, breathing rapidly, “isn’t how first kisses usually go.”

Clark hummed, returning his lips to hers. “I think I agree with you.”

“But I’m not upset with this,” she managed through more kisses.

“I definitely agree with you,” Clark murmured. His voice had turned husky, and it was doing things to her.

“You missed a great opportunity for a pun there,” Lois pointed out, “Have I distracted you that much?”

Clark breathed a laugh. “What? You put the words right in my mouth?”

Lois nodded against him.

“What can I say?” They were doing a terrible job of letting each other speak. “I didn’t want to kill the mood with a bad joke.”

“But you thought it,” Lois observed.

“I’m really glad you did, too,” he chuckled.

Damn. He was gorgeous like this. Smiling inches from her face, eyes dark, hair mussed slightly. “I guess I know you pretty well,” she replied, brushing his errant bangs back. They were curly. She’d never noticed that, either.

She realized she couldn’t wait to keep learning more about Clark. She kissed him again.

Sue them for making out for a while longer. It was a slow news day, and they’d unlocked a new level of their relationship.

Eventually they pulled apart before things could escalate too much. Lois walked out of the closet looking self-satisfied and cool, aiming to look like she’d just given Clark a piece of her mind for beating her in the staring contest with such underhanded methods. Clark stayed in the closet for a little bit longer, cooling off. It helped it look like he really had been chewed out. No one needed to know they’d been lip-locked the whole time.

That was between them.