Okay, here's the scene. It was
Wrong Clark. Here's the set up. Alt-Clark has come to an alt-canon dimension (where there is no Clark) to woo the Lois there. Lois has recently discovered that Clark Kent doesn't exist (i.e. when she did a background check). He takes her out for dinner for her birthday and this happens when he goes to pay for the meal.
Lois reached out and snatched his wallet away from his fingers.
“Lois,” he groaned.
There wasn’t anything in there except cash, his debit card, his press pass, his driver’s license, Daily Planet employee card, a bunch of business cards, both his and other peoples, and some receipts. Didn’t he have any photos or credit cards? She slipped out his driver’s license and tossed the wallet back on the table. “Clark J. Kent. 344 Clinton St., Metropolis, NT. Height: 6’2”. Weight…” She looked over at him, up and down with a raised brow.
Clark shifted in his seat. “It’s all muscle,” he mumbled.
Uh-huh. We’ll see about that. “Hair: Brown. Eyes: Brown with corrective lenses. Organ donor: No?” That didn’t seem like him.
He shrugged.
“Date issued: May 19, 1993. Expiration: February 28, 1999. Birthday: February 28, 1966,” she continued. “What’s the ‘J’ stand for?”
“Jester,” he said with a grin.
Okay, he was telling the truth about his birthday at least. She felt something on the back of the card and went to flip it over, but Clark snatched his license back first.
“Do you want to know my shoe size as well?” he said, returning his license to his wallet.
“Maybe, someday,” she replied, glancing down at his sizable feet. “Will you tell me the truth, or will I have to measure them?”
“Why would I lie about my shoe size?” he asked with shake of his head.
Because he was a man, and there was a direct correlation between a man’s shoe size and his… being a man. Was that just an urban myth? Of course with those feet, why would he lie?
Clark stood up and held out a hand to her. She placed her hand in his, and stood up. He picked up her wrap from coat check and draped it over her shoulders.
“So, shall we stop by my place to pick up my toothbrush, or do you want to hear my compromise?” he asked as they walked into the cool night’s air.
“I thought the compromise was you admitting that you asked me out on a real date,” Lois replied. “And you’re not spending the night. You’re going to tell me what happened, and then you’re going to go home.”
“Nah, I like my compromise idea better,” Clark said without telling her what it was.
Lois raised a brow. If he thought they were going to take up where they had left off at the Metro Club, he had another thing coming. She refused to discuss that topic again until she knew who he really was. “You’re not even going to get a first date kiss until I get some information from you.”
“Twelve,” Clark said.
Her eyes sought out his. “Twelve?” What was he talking about?
“Okay, fine. Twelve and half, depending on the shoe,” he said.
Lois laughed.
His driver's license, et al, comes from alt-dimension where all the data matches his current living arrangements. He arrived into this dimension around the same time canon Clark would've arrived into Metropolis.
It doesn't quite match up to your request, but it's slightly close.
