I think I've read this, but either way... google told me what it was because this has just been sitting here too long. <g> We can't have coochie feeling left out when killchie and cluechie are still having fun, now can we?
It's
Desperate Measures by Wendy Richards and Kaethel, which, I'm pretty sure I read... I think... *sigh* I'll have to read it again someday.
Anyway, here's your new coochie...
"And she asked me what I saw myself doing in fifty years. And, more importantly, who I saw myself doing it with."
She looked directly into Clark's eyes, hoping he was able to see the sincerity, the depth of her emotion. "And the first person, the only person, that came to mind was you."
Clark's expression softened and she saw him look at her with such tenderness as she had never seen directed at her before. "Me?"
"Yes, you." She wanted to look away, to laugh, to deny the importance of this moment, but she couldn't. "And when I realized that, I realized I loved you. Not as a brother, not as a friend, but as the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."
It was almost comical to watch Clark's eyes widen in shock. Well, since she'd already bared her soul about as much as she could, a little more daring wouldn't hurt any. Quickly, she scooted across the couch, somehow ending up on her knees, facing him. She placed a hand on each of his shoulders and leaned in towards his face. He didn't back away, but he didn't do anything to encourage her either. Slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to break contact should he choose, she moved closer.
She'd kissed him before. He'd kissed her. But this was different. This wasn't a ploy, this wasn't a cover, this wasn't a good-bye. This was Lois Lane kissing Clark Kent, the man she loved.
Have fun!
Sara
