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Impulse took over; perhaps this would answer her doubts and questions. "I think..." she continued hesitantly. "I think I want you to kiss me."

There was a shocked pause when everything - even the gusts of wind outside - came to a screeching halt. Finally, a squeaky voice resembling Clark's filled the silence. "I'm sorry, you want me to *what*?"

Well, obviously he hadn't been expecting her to say that, but hey, she hadn't totally expected it herself. The words had just seemed to... come out, and she hadn't been able to stop them. The look on Clark's face was priceless, though; his mouth was open slightly and his eyes were wide, looking at her as if she had suddenly asked him to fly into outer space and return with a piece of the moon.

(what is a Gorn? [Goofy] )

"Clark, I do *not* want to grope your ch - *what* have you got on under your shirt? It's all shiny and..." She trailed off. To his satisfaction, she was looking slack-jawed. Thunderstruck, in fact.

"That's... Superman's suit, isn't it?"

"It is." He waited.

"Why are you...?" She halted. Swallowed. Blinked several times. Then, in a strangled voice, continued. "Clark, tell me you're not Superman."

"Sorry, Lois, I can't do that." With the note of amusement that had crept into his voice, he heard himself sound exactly like Superman.

"Clark, what on Earth is that smell?" Lois's voice asked from the direction of the living room.

"Um -- sour milk, I think," he answered. "Or maybe it's the chicken sub gum. I'm not sure. Didn't Huong's Chinese Garden go out of business last year?"

"Yeah. They put a country Italian restaurant in its place.
Why?"

"I just threw out their special. The coffee's ready.

I see nothing wrong with gushing a little over a favourite story, Alcyone. I like to think of this thread as a tribute as well as a game.

Even here unfinished tales are stellar, I would be first unto a petition list for their completion.

I consider the Gorn to be my greatest find at Anne's place. Possible because of the alias(what is a Gorn? )

Klinger’s Accidential Husband is the story I can never seem to track down for some reason I always think it’s one of Wendy’s..

He shifted on the hard wooden chair, looked around the sparsely
furnished room and quietly rattled off the names of the items.

"Chair... table... mirror..."

The swell of frustration caused the knot in his stomach to coil
tighter and his hands to clench on the grimy tabletop. He *knew*
what a chair was...

"Lois, was I - I mean, before, did I..." he paused and then sighed. "Did I have a lot of...girlfriends? Before?"

Lois blinked, taken aback by the question. "Uh...well...not that I ever noticed," she confessed.

The answer seemed to dismay Clark even more. His face slumped. "I wasn't...overly religious. Was I?"

"Not that you ever said." She was watching him steadily now. She moved to sit down beside him, reaching out to put a hand against his knee. Given the nature of the turbulent thoughts rolling chaotically through his head, it was a touch too intimate by far for Clark. He jerked sharply, wincing, and focused on her abruptly from the distance his thoughts had taken him to, looking suddenly like a startled bear.

"Clark, what's wrong?" Lois said, growing worried now.

"Nothing!" He pasted a wide and, he suspected, completely unconvincing, smile on his face. "Nothing." He put his hand over hers and patted it soothingly. Lois glanced down at the movement, paternal in nature, and then back up to his face with a quirked brow. Clark withdrew his hand, awkwardly. And then, suddenly, as he looked into her face, like a ray of sunlight breaching through heavy cloud, he found a single moment of clarity among his confused thoughts. And, for perhaps one of the very few times in his life - he seemed to instinctively understand - he said something without thinking about it first, without weighing the consequences or wondering if it was right. Maybe it was just the night for it.

"You just thank your lucky stars that you're a man, not a woman!" she told him. "I mean, you guys really have it easy. All you need is a couple of different suits, about a dozen shirts and a selection of ties. Nobody bats an eyelid if you wear the same suit all week. Nobody cares if you only have one pair of shoes. Most of the time you could get away with wearing discount shirts, or even a shirt that doesn't fit perfectly. Your suits can be as boring as you want - the colour barely matters.
While we women... heaven help us if we wear the same outfit to work twice in one week! We sometimes even get smart comments if we wear the same thing two weeks running!
And as for colours... we get called boring if we wear dull colours, and accused of trying to be noticed if we wear something brighter.
And as for what we have to pay for these outfits... I *wish* I could get a decent work suit for the price you're paying for these suits!"

She came to an abrupt halt, breathing heavily.

Clark blinked. "Um... okay, maybe I will get another suit while I'm here," he said mildly.

Lois paused as if considering the possibility. "You know, I've heard Dan's still available," she finally said.

"Scardino?" Clark gasped.

Lois nodded. "Maybe you'd like me to give him a call. He asked me to marry him, you know," she added. If he was really going to stick to this outrageous idea, she was determined that he not be able to hide behind platitudes. She was determined to make him understand exactly what he was suggesting.

"He asked you to marry him?" Clark asked. This was the first he was hearing of this.

Lois nodded. "When I told him I couldn't see him any more. I wonder if he'd be interested," she mused.

Clark felt his stomach clench into a tight ball. It was hard enough thinking about Lois with another man in abstract terms, but to have her put a name and face on that man was almost too much to bear. Why was she tormenting him like this? He had despised Scardino when he'd pursued Lois years ago. The thought of her in a relationship with Scardino, the thought of Scardino raising his child, was agonizing torture.

"Lois, don't please," he pleaded.

"Your Highness," said Sir Mordred, his tone noticeably more deferential towards Lois than it had been a few minutes previously, "that still doesn't explain why the King assumed Sir Lancelot's guise and returned to Camelot."

"Are you going to let me finish, or not??" said Lois crankily. Clark
grinned openly. "While in Caer Wyn, the King discovered that the dispute he had gone there to settle was fake." Lois paused and noted with satisfaction that Mordred looked distinctly taken aback.

Behind her, Clark was gazing up at Lois with a gleam of admiration. So she, too, had discovered that the dispute was bogus! He had found that out himself, but he wouldn't have dreamed it possible that Lois could have done so, too.

He could see that he had vastly underrated her. He was going to have to appoint her as chief investigator for the Court. That is, he reminded himself glumly, if she was still speaking to him when this was all over.

I know you can't search the quote- that'd be cheating.

Lois paused as if considering the possibility. "You know, I've heard Dan's still available," she finally said.

"Scardino?" Clark gasped.

Lois nodded. "Maybe you'd like me to give him a call. He asked me to marry him, you know," she added. If he was really going to stick to this outrageous idea, she was determined that he not be able to hide behind platitudes. She was determined to make him understand exactly what he was suggesting.

"He asked you to marry him?" Clark asked. This was the first he was hearing of this.

Lois nodded. "When I told him I couldn't see him any more. I wonder if he'd be interested," she mused.

Clark felt his stomach clench into a tight ball. It was hard enough thinking about Lois with another man in abstract terms, but to have her put a name and face on that man was almost too much to bear. Why was she tormenting him like this? He had despised Scardino when he'd pursued Lois years ago. The thought of her in a relationship with Scardino, the thought of Scardino raising his child, was agonizing torture.

"Lois, don't please," he pleaded.

When I can read stuff like this for free I wonder why people buy books.

"Clark, wait, we need to talk," she pleaded with him.

"There's nothing to talk about!" he snapped, turning toward
the door. He needed to make her hate him. He needed her
to realize that she ought to despise him. He deserved no
better.

"Please," she cried out. He could hear the emotion in her
voice. She was near tears. He hardened his heart to her
pleas and walked away.

The rain was cascading down sheets and he didn't care. It
pounded loudly on the concrete and asphalt and the distant
rumble of thunder added to the deafening cacophony. The
drops on his glasses obscured his vision. He took the
glasses off and snapped them in half effortlessly. Clark
tossed the broken halves out into the darkness, not caring
where they landed. He heard them clatter somewhere in the
distance.

Frustrated, he ran his hand through his dripping wet hair
and screamed out loud, sobbing. The click of the door
behind him startled him. Clark silently prayed that she
would just go away and leave him alone. He didn't want to
have to see her right now.

"Clark, please, look at me," she said quietly.

"The difference between you and Superman."

Clark's face dropped. He felt like his heart stopped. She
couldn't mean... "What... um.. what..."

"...what is the difference between you and Superman. I know.
Odd question. I mean, aside from the obvious. He's Superman.
He saves the world. You're Clark Kent. You put up with me. I'm
not sure which one involves more courage. But that's not the
point. Clark, I went on a date with Superman tonight! That was
a dream come true! HE... was a dream come true. And all I could
think about was you. Do you know why? Of course you don't know
why, you weren't in my head. Well here's the thing. Superman is
a dream come true."

"I caught that part," Clark teased.

"You, Clark... you're the man who makes my dreams come true."

Lois got only two steps inside the door before the compulsion to turn for one last look got the better of her. There were dozens of people outside, all hurrying or good- byeing, but she could see only Clark.

Unaware of her regard, and uncaring what others might think, he'd allowed all that he'd been feeling to surface. It wasn't that he was openly weeping or anything like that, it ... it was just that she, who knew him so well now, could tell by his movements -- by the way he held and carried himself -- the depth of his distress. She was leaving him more alone than when she'd found him, and she just couldn't bear it.

Out of the door and running towards him before her head could talk some sense into her heart, she called to him, saw him turn, watched his face change in a flash from concern to confusion to wonder to joy and then she was in his arms.

She kissed him, and tried to tell him at the same time, "I do love you, Clark. I really do." She held him to her tightly, and laid her head against his chest. "I wanted you to know ... before I left, because ... because I know that if there's one thing in this whole world I can count on, it's the way you feel about me."

She felt his arms tighten around her and was aware that he'd laid his cheek against her hair. She was talking too fast for him to have had a chance to say anything, but his body was communicating volumes: his pounding heart, his quickened breathing, the way his hand caressed her head, all told her of his excitement, his happiness, and his love.

With his arms full of Lois and his heart full of joy, Clark could hardly believe this sudden, electrifying turn of events. Before he could properly assimilate what was happening she was telling him, "I have to go. If only we had more time." She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him with an expression so full of love that it robbed him of what little breath he had left. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, passionately ... possessively, embraced him again and whispered fiercely, "I love you," one more time, and then ... she was gone.