Previously...
He found her snooping around in what appeared to be Lex Luthor's private office. Clark hurriedly shut the door behind him as he entered.
"Lois!" he whispered, so as not to be heard by anyone but her.
She still jumped a little at his voice. Her back had been toward the door, so she hadn't seen him enter.
"Clark! You startled me."
"I'm sorry. But what are you doing in here?"
"Looking for something."
"Apparently," he shot back, unable to suppress the small vein of sarcasm in his comment. "What, exactly, are you looking for?"
"I don't know," she said, blushing a little.
Clark rolled his eyes. "Lo-is!"
"I need to find something - anything - that can give me a leg up in nailing down an interview," she whispered back. "Help me."
"Lois, getting caught rifling through the man's personal items is guaranteed to not land you an interview."
"If you help, we can get done faster and get out of here, which gives us less of a chance to be caught," she shot back as she opened one of the drawers to his desk.
She pulled out a stack of file folders and fanned them out on the wide mahogany desk. Clark glanced at them but saw nothing of note. Plans for the new LexMart down by the docks. Contracts for LNN workers. A bill of sale for his newest yacht. Something called Project Blue. Plans for a new cruise line, set to start sailing three years in the future.
"There's nothing here," Clark whispered as he gave in and helped Lois dig through Luthor's private files.
"I guess you're right," she admitted after a few more moments of searching. She put everything back neatly. "I'm sorry, Clark."
He shook his head. "Don't be. I love how you dive right in to things...even if maybe you shouldn't." He offered her a crooked smile. "You want to go back and join the rest of the party?"
"I suppose," Lois said, sounding less than enthusiastic.
"What? What's the matter?" he asked, putting an arm protectively across her shoulders.
"It's just so..." she gestured as she spoke, "nice and quiet here."
"Yes, it is." Luthor's voice was coldly neutral sounding. "And also very private."
"I...uh...sorry, Lex," Lois said, having the sense to at least sound abashed, even if she might not be feeling it. "Clark and I just needed a minute alone, out of the party, to catch our breath. You throw such elaborate soirees, Lex. We didn't realize this was your office."
"Thank you. But now, I really must insist that we move back to the affair at hand." He eyed them coolly.
Silently, Lois and Clark exited the study. Lex trailed behind them. Clark heard, rather than saw, him lock the door to the study behind him, clearly trying to prevent a second intrusion of his privacy.
"Sorry, Lois," Clark said as they attempted to melt back into the crowd by joining in on another slow dance. "I wish I could have helped you get whatever you needed."
"It's fine," she said. "All it means is that I'll have to work even harder, and, when I do get that interview, it will be all the better, and the victory all the sweeter. For now, though? Another dance?"
Clark didn't respond other than to hug her even closer to his chest and start to sway. He was in heaven. In roughly a month, he'd attained some of the biggest, most important goals of his life - a permanent home, a job - unpaid as it was for the time being - at the Daily Planet, and Lois Lane, the only woman in his entire life that he had ever loved. Happy could not adequately express how he felt.
For a second, his feet lifted right off the floor and he had to remind himself to stay rooted to the marble beneath the soles of his feet.
Careful, Clark, he warned himself. No one can know. Not even Lois. Not yet.
***
"Mom! Dad! What are you guys doing here? I thought I was coming out to pick you guys up?" Clark said as he opened the door to his apartment.
"We made good time and landed early. We figured we'd just grab a cab and save you the trip," Jonathan said, wrapping his son in a hug. "How are you, son?"
"I'm good, Dad. Really good," Clark said, ushering his parents into the living room. "I know I haven't been here long but Metropolis is fantastic. For the first time, I feel like I might have found what I'm looking for."
"A place to call home," Jonathan said soberly.
"Well...yeah. I know it's hard for you guys to hear me call someplace other than the farm home, but...I feel like, somehow, I belong here. Like I'm meant to be here."
"I'm glad for you, Clark," Martha said, putting her purse down on the couch before embracing Clark tightly. 'It's good to see you."
"You too, Mom. So, what do you think of the place?" He gestured broadly. He'd done a bit of furniture shopping and decorating in the couple of weeks he'd had the apartment.
His mother took a long moment to take in the apartment. She finally smiled.
"It's you," she declared. "I love it."
"Really?"
"Really," she confirmed. "It looks fantastic. I can tell you're really happy here."
"I am," Clark said, retrieving their luggage from the landing and moving it into his bedroom. He set the suitcases on the floor. "I just hope I get to stay put this time."
"Oh, Clark, you didn't..." his father nearly pleaded.
"No. I haven't jeopardized my identity. Not here. But if Perry doesn't approve of my work...if he doesn't hire me...I'm not going to be able to stay."
"He will," Jonathan said with certainty.
"I hope so. I've been giving it my all, no matter what kind of story gets thrown my way." He checked his watch. "Actually, I'm due for my evaluation today. I should get going. You guys will be okay here?" He gave them an extra set of keys, just in case.
"Here? Who said we're staying here? Your mother is chomping at the bit to get out shopping." Jonathan smiled at Martha, a laugh perched on his lips and dancing in his eyes.
Clark chuckled. "I figured as much. That's why I had the keys made."
"Go, and good luck," Martha said, kissing his cheek before waving him off to the door.
"Thanks. I'll bring home something for dinner," he promised.
"Only if you let me cook tomorrow," Martha said.
Clark's mouth was already watering for a good, home-cooked meal. "Agreed."
***
"Kent? Step into my office, would you?" Perry asked as Clark passed him by in the break area as he went to make two mugs of coffee - one for himself and one for Lois.
"Sure, Chief. I just have to make this delivery," he said, lifting Lois' mug and nodding in her general direction.
"Ah, a wise move," Perry joked back. "What's the old expression?"
"Happy partner, happy life?" Clark suggested.
That made the Chief laugh. "Something like that. How's everything going with her?"
Clark kept his eyes trained on the milk he was adding to both of their mugs. "Good. I mean, I think it's good."
"You two make a good team."
"Yeah, I think so."
"And your, ah, personal partnership?"
Clark paled. "You know? Uh, that it's been more than just the White Orchid Ball a couple of weeks ago?"
"Kent, let me tell you something. Nothing happens in this newsroom that I don't know about. I wouldn't be much of an editor-in-chief if I wasn't completely on the ball."
"Good point." Clark carefully measured out sugar into each mug. He sighed, uncomfortable with talking about his personal life with his boss, even if Perry already felt more like a father-figure than a true boss. "Things are going pretty well, I think. We haven't been out much but...for me..."
Perry smiled and put his hands up in a "stop" position. He, like Clark, gazed out in Lois' direction. "Say no more. I know the feeling. Felt the same way after I first started dating Alice."
Clark nodded. "I still can't believe it sometimes."
"Son, I've been married for a long, long time and I still can't believe that Alice chose me, out of all the other men out there. I don't understand it but I sure don't question it."
"Yeah," Clark agreed, unsure of what else he could say.
"Go. Bring her that coffee while it's still hot. But you come right to my office afterwards, got it?"
"Got it, Chief."
"Good man."
Clark didn't wait for Perry to say another word. He picked up both cups and made his way back through the newsroom. It occurred to him how familiar the bullpen was to him now. Never before had he felt this comfortable at his place of employment. Never before had he felt like a natural part of the of any newsroom. Everything about the Planet seemed to pulse in his very veins.
Please, he begged the universe, please let me get this job.
"Clark, hi," Lois said, barely glancing up from the furious typing she was doing.
"Hey. That must be some story you're working on." He placed the mug on her desk. "My humble offering."
Lois threw a look over to see what he was talking about. "Oh, great! Thanks! I could use a good cup of coffee."
"I thought so. So, what are you working on?"
"Shooting down by the docks. Drug fueled, from the report Wolfe sent over."
Clark nodded. "Ah."
"Pull up a chair."
"Can't. Perry wants to see me."
Lois took a sip of her coffee, her eyes sliding shut in bliss at the hot caffeine. "What for?"
"Well, I can only assume he's going to give me his verdict. My 'unpaid internship' status expires today."
Lois swallowed involuntarily and winced at the heat. "Already? Wow! Nervous?"
"A little," he confided.
"Want a little moral support when you go in?"
"I wish I could. But I think it's better if I go in alone," he said with gratitude.
"Okay, well, I'll be here," she said, awkwardly, as though not sure how to gracefully remain at her desk. "Actually, I found some interesting dirt on Lex Luthor I wanted to talk to you about. Nothing concrete yet, but it does make me raise an eyebrow."
"Sounds good and thanks. Well, here goes..."
"Good luck," she called after him as he started off.
The walk to Perry's office had never seemed so quick or so very, very long. He knew he was perhaps being a little ridiculous. After all, he'd poured his heart and soul into the work he'd done while at the Planet. On the other hand, he'd poured his heart and soul into his work, and if he learned that it wasn't good enough, he knew he'd be crushed beyond repair. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to continue in the journalism field if Perry White chose not to hire him.
He reached the door to Perry's office and knocked on the doorframe. Perry looked up from his work, editing some of the articles Clark's co-workers had produced.
"Oh, Clark, come in. Shut the door, would you?"
Clark wordlessly complied. For a moment, he just stood there, feeling almost at a loss, until he finally settled down on the plaid couch Perry kept in his office.
"So..." Perry began.
"So..." Clark nervously repeated.
"So, your trial run is up today."
Clark nodded. "Yes."
"Tell me, how did you enjoy it?" Perry asked, knocking Clark off guard.
"I loved it," Clark said honestly. "I've never worked in such a great environment before. It's been...kind of like a home for me."
Perry nodded thoughtfully. "Well...uh...I'm glad. I've enjoyed having you with us. But, uh, I'm afraid I'm going to need that temporary press pass I gave you back."
Clark's heart sank and he felt suddenly queasy, as though the world had lurched into a too-fast spin unexpectedly. He blindly reached for his wallet and pulled out the pass. He forced himself, through sheer willpower, to maintain a neutral face as he handed it to Perry.
"Well, thanks for the opportunity," Clark said. "I really did find it a pleasure to work for you."
"Now hold up just a second," Perry said as Clark started to rise from the couch. Clark sat back down. "I needed the temporary pass back so I can give you this." He handed Clark a laminated rectangle of plastic. "That's your permanent pass. Welcome to the Daily Planet, son." His face cracked into a wide smile.
Clark's heart skipped a beat. "What? You're...you're serious?" It sounded stupid to his ears but he simply couldn't believe what he'd heard.
"You've proven yourself to be worthy of the paper. I don't know what the other editors you worked for thought, but I know I'd be a fool to let you go. Unless, of course, you don't want the position?" He cracked another smile, letting Clark know he was teasing.
"I don't know, Chief," he replied playfully. "I mean, it's a tough decision. Working for a world class paper or something like the Dirt Digger..." He shrugged. "I guess I'd have to say...I'll take you up on your generous offer to join the Planet."
Perry chuckled. "Good man."
"Um...about my partnership with Lois..."
"Right. You know, when I first teamed her up with you, I really only intended it to be just long enough to get your feet wet. After all, there's no one better you could hope to learn from. But I've changed my mind. I think it's for the best if I keep you two as permanent partners. Oh, I'll send you solo from time to time, but for the most part, the writing team of Lane and Kent can't be beat."
"That's great," Clark said with a grin.
"Now, this all comes with the stipulation that everything remains professional between you, now that you two are an item."
"Believe me, Perry, I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize either my personal or professional relationships with Lois. Or my employment here."
"Good. That's what I like to hear. I've lost good reporting teams before due to dating. And none were half so good as you and Lois have been so far."
"You have my word," Clark vowed.
"Good. Now, go get your partner and find something to fill in the blank spaces of my paper."
"No problem," Clark replied with a grin. "And thanks, Chief. You don't know what this means to me."
"Don't thank me. You did all the work. Including making me think twice about sending you away when you initially came in here."
Clark nodded once in acknowledgement, then left his boss' office, gently shutting the door behind him as he left. He fought hard not to float through the bullpen in his euphoria. His heart was soaring. Somehow, in the span of two months, he'd secured some of the biggest goals he had in his life. He'd found the one place in all the world where he truly felt like he belonged. He had a great apartment - a place where he felt relaxed, as opposed to the constant feeling of anxiety and wanderlust during his days abroad. He'd found his dream woman, the other half of his yearning heart. Though they hadn't known each other long, he felt like his soul was complete when he was with her. And now, he'd secured his dream job.
Soon, he thought to himself. Maybe soon I'll be able to finally start using my powers in a better capacity to help people. I'll talk to Mom about my idea tonight.
"Hey, how'd it go?" Lois asked as he approached. Her rapid fire typing had ceased, and she appeared to be leisurely checking though the emails in her inbox.
"Perry...took my press pass," Clark said, deciding to have a little fun with her.
"What? Is he insane? You're a good reporter. How can he let you leave? I'm going to go right in there and give him a piece of my mind. I thought he was smarter than this. The very idea of letting you go. Especially after seeing what you can do."
"Whoa, whoa, Lois, calm down," Clark said, raising his hands before him, trying to break off the sudden rambling rant she'd launched into.
"Calm down? Calm down? When Perry just gave the boot to the only partner I could ever stand to work with? Are you nuts?"
"Lois, I never said Perry fired me. Or...opted not to take me on, I guess is the better way to describe it. He took the temporary pass and gave me a permanent one. You're stuck with me as a partner for the foreseeable future." He grinned as her mouth hung open, whatever new rant she'd been brewing dying out on her tongue before it could be born.
"Oh, Clark! That's fantastic news!" she exclaimed, rising to give him a quick squeeze of a hug. "Congratulations. You've earned it."
"Thanks, Lois. You helped me earn it. I hope you know that."
"Well, that's a given," she teased. "We should celebrate. Dinner tonight?"
"I wish I could, but my parents flew in this morning," he said regretfully. Dinner with Lois sounded wonderful.
"Tomorrow then?"
Clark smiled apologetically. "Mom's already committed to cooking something."
"Okay, well, a rain-check then," she compromised.
"Sounds good. So...you're okay with having me for a partner?" he teased.
"So long as you pull your weight," she teased back with a indifferent shrug.
Clark chuckled. "I think I can keep up with you."
"Good, because Lois Lane slows down for no one."
"I believe it," Clark said, slipping behind his own desk and sitting down. He picked up his coffee, which had cooled somewhat, and took a sip. It was still passable, without needing a burst of his heat vision. "Well, now that I'm still going to be around here for a while, what's on the agenda for the day, partner?"
***
"Congratulations, son! I knew you could do it," Jonathan said, toasting Clark with his glass of iced tea.
"Thanks, Dad," Clark said with a bob of his head. He sliced a lemon into wedges, threw two into his ice water, then drank. "Sorry I got in so late. That rash of jewelry store robberies got a little more complicated than Lois and I had planned on. I'm almost certain Intergang is at the source of it all."
His father gave a grunt of acknowledgement around a mouthful of stuffed shells that Clark had brought home with him from one of the local Italian places. He'd initially planned on getting something more exotic, but when he'd called home during a brief break, his mother had mentioned a desire to eat from one of the local restaurants.
"I just can't prove it," Clark continued. "Yet."
"I'm sure you, of all people, can find a lead...somewhere," Jonathan said, his voice heavier than usual with the unspoken reference to Clark's powers.
"Believe me, I've been looking," Clark said, digging in to his penne ala vodka with chicken. "Whoever is doing it - Intergang or not - they've been covering their tracks really well."
Martha gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Not for much longer. Not with you and Lois on the case."
"I hope so. I want to find out who's behind this so I can help get them behind bars where they belong so badly."
"You always did take a special pleasure in helping people," Martha replied.
Clark nodded. "I was raised really well," he grinned. "It's always killed me inside that I have to hide my powers. I could do so much good with them, if only I didn't have to be afraid of exposing myself as something other than a regular human being." He looked down at his pasta as though contemplating the sauce.
"I know," Jonathan said, reaching over to rest a hand on Clark's shoulder. "I wish you had the freedom to fly right through the center of the city without anyone batting an eye. But you know what would happen."
Clark sighed. "Yeah. I'd expose myself to lunatic scientists who'd want to dissect me or run batteries of tests on or..." His voice trailed off as he shrugged. "But...what if? What if I could just fly through the center of the city? What if no one knew that it was Clark Kent flying around out there?"
"Why wouldn't they know it was you?" Martha asked.
"Maybe...maybe I'm in disguise," he replied, swallowing hard. Now that he'd said it, it sounded ridiculous to his own ears.
"A disguise?" Martha raised her eyebrows questioningly. "What kind of a disguise?"
"I don't know. Something far off from who I am. Something that no one will ever suspect would belong to a regular Joe...a mild mannered reporter, if you will."
"Sounds risky," Jonathan said.
"While I agree, did you have anything specific in mind?" Martha asked.
"I'm not sure. Something...unreal. Something...bright. Something that won't hinder me or slow me down when I'm flying at top speed to someone who needs help."
"Aerodynamic, got it," Martha said. "Spandex might work."
"That might be a little too aerodynamic," Clark said, embarrassed already to think of how form-fitting Spandex would be.
"Nonsense. When every second counts, you'll be glad of it." She ate a mouthful of her chicken piccata. "Any particular colors in mind? I'm thinking something maybe in red. Maybe blue. Or black."
Clark shook his head. "Not black. I don't want it to look like I'm trying to hide anything. And not white either."
"Of course not. The dirt and blood stains would be a bear to keep trying to get out, if you plan on helping people in trouble," Martha scoffed lightly.
"I need something distracting. Something that will make it impossible for people to imagine the guy in the costume wearing anything else. Kind of like...remember the old cartoons I used to watch? In every episode, the main character would wear the same thing, so it was hard to imagine them suddenly wearing a different outfit." He was more thinking out loud than anything else.
But Martha seemed intrigued. "Something cartoonish could work," she mused. "I'll swing by one of those big craft stores tomorrow and pick up some material."
"I'll fly home and get your sewing machine," Clark volunteered.
"Thanks, honey. That will help a lot."
Clark shook his head. "No, thank you. For not laughing in my face about this idea."
"There's nothing to laugh at, son," Jonathan said. "You know we'll back you up one hundred percent, no matter what."
"Thanks, Dad."
***
"How's that one fit?" Martha called in the direction of Clark's bedroom. She was bent over the sewing machine, carefully fitting material together.
"The size is right, but the design...uh..."
"Well, for Heaven's sake let me see," she called back.
Clark stepped around the privacy screen he'd picked up during his travels through Japan. His cheeks flooded with heat in his imagined embarrassment.
"It's not quite my style," he said about the leopard print monstrosity he was currently wearing. "I'm trying to become someone new, I'm not trying to become Tarzan."
"That's not what you said when you were six," Jonathan said with a laugh, looking up from the television news. "You practiced that yell for the longest time."
Clark chuckled. "Yeah. I was so disappointed I didn't have a jungle with vines to swing through. I always wanted to 'fly' like he did."
"And now look at you."
"Flying for real," Clark finished for him. "Anyway, Mom?"
She gave him a thumbs down. "Try this one." She handed him something that looked like it was out of a fifties sci-fi movie, all metallic blue and silver."
Clark dutifully pulled the new costume on, but quickly decided against it. Judging from his parents' reactions, they were even less of a fan than he was.
"No," was all his mother said.
Two days passed in this fashion. Martha worked on costumes during the day when she could, or in the early evenings as Clark tried on some of her finished creations. Everyone was starting to get disheartened, even though they all agreed that none of the finished prototypes were right for what Clark was trying to do.
"Maybe this was a stupid idea," Clark called from the kitchen, during a break in costume changes, as Martha finished a few seams to her latest attempt. He used his heat vision to heat a cookie sheet full of frozen mozzarella sticks. "Maybe there is no 'perfect look' for what I'm trying to accomplish. Maybe cartoonish was the wrong way to look at this."
He deftly picked up the scalding sticks with his bare fingers, portioning them out onto plates before heating up the frozen packet of sauce that had come with the snacks. He took them into the living room and settled on the couch next to his father, who was engrossed in an old war movie.
"Careful, they're really hot," he cautioned, before biting into one himself.
"We're getting closer," Martha argued. "I felt like we're just about there." She finished the last of the stitches. "Here, try this one on. Last one tonight, I promise."
Clark sighed tiredly. "Okay," he relented after a minute.
He found himself eating more slowly, however, in an effort to put off trying on yet other potential failure. He was even getting to the point where he was second guessing his idea to create any kind of character whatsoever. Maybe he could just find ways to help from the shadows, like he'd done all over the world.
Martha got up from the sewing machine that had taken over Clark's dining room table. She stretched and moved to the armchair, retrieving the plate of mozzarella sticks Clark had left there for her. She picked one up and blew on it to cool it before taking a bite. Clark could see she was anxious to see if he would like her newest costume attempt and felt guilty for eating so slowly. He finished the last stick and went to retrieve the freshly sewn material from its place, draped over the back of a chair.
"Well?" Martha called a few minutes later, after he'd changed into it at super speed and stood taking in the new look as he stared at his reflection in the full length mirror in his bedroom.
"I'm not sure," Clark replied.
He could almost hear his mother's silent exasperation.
"Is it the look?" she asked.
"The look? No. The look is fine. It's easily the best one you've made, but..."
"But what?"
"But, seeing it on - even one this good - I'm not sure I can actually go out in public in this," he said, stepping out into the living room. "Well?" he asked as his parents both stopped to appraise the new look.
"Oh, honey, I think we found the look," Martha said.
"It's a bit...revealing," Clark said uncomfortably.
"I was thinking of adding a cape. It'll give you some coverage in the back, plus it will look absolutely majestic, especially when you fly."
"I'm not really looking for majestic," Clark mumbled uncomfortably.
"Nonsense. You want to stand out from the crowd, right? A cape will brand you as someone...new and interesting and unique," Martha said.
"Won't the flying take care of that?" Clark asked weakly.
"Clark, your mother is right. If you really want to go through with this, an outfit like that will do the job," Jonathan offered. "It's just missing something."
"Modesty?" Clark offered in a limp attempt at humor.
"A symbol. Something to announce to the world who you are," Jonathan said. "Martha?" he asked after a slight, thoughtful pause. "Do you remember the S?"
"How could I ever forget?" she asked quietly.
"The S?" Clark asked.
Jonathan nodded. "The night you became our son, your biological mother was wearing this stylized S on her clothing. You had the same S on the clothes and blanket you were in. I don't know what it meant, but it was clearly some identifier."
Clark nodded. "Can you sketch it?" he asked as Martha went back to the sewing machine.
"Mmm-hmm," Jonathan said as he picked up the pad of paper and pen Clark kept near his phone. He quickly sketched the symbol for Clark. "It's a bit rough, but you get the drift," he said.
Clark took the drawing and looked at it. It felt oddly "right" to him. He was drawn to it in some inexplicable way. He couldn't begin to guess at the meaning behind the S, but it was a piece of his mysterious past. He nodded slowly.
"You're right. It's exactly what this suit needs."
***
"Clark! Open up! I know you have to be home!"
Clark groaned and rolled off the couch as he woke. He was so groggy that he actually hit the floor, where he normally would have caught himself. Still, the impact did serve a purpose. It helped to force him into full wakefulness.
"Clark?!"
"Coming," he called back, nearly forgetting his glasses as he headed for the door. At the last second, he remembered them and put them on. "Lois? What are you doing here at..." He checked the living room clock. "Five-thirty in the morning?"
"I couldn't sleep well. I've been thinking about all those businesses being pushed out. The mom-and-pop shops?"
"Yeah?" Clark asked, losing the battle to a mighty yawn.
"Clark?" Martha called, stepping into the living room, tying her robe tighter. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine," he replied as Jonathan stepped up behind Martha. "Mom, Dad, this is Lois, my partner at the Planet. And, well, the woman I've been seeing."
"Oh, God, I forgot you said your parents were staying with you," Lois said, blushing. She tucked a sweaty strand of hair back behind her ear. "I'm so sorry. First I barge in here at this hour, then I don't even look presentable." She gestured to her jogging clothes. "Hi, I'm Lois."
She shook hands with Jonathan and Martha as the introductions were made. Since everyone was already up, and since Lois and Clark had to be at the Planet by eight anyway, the Kents fixed breakfast. Clark hadn't had such a feast in a long while. Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit, sausage, bagels, coffee, hash browns, and freshly squeezed orange juice all materialized on the table as Lois excitedly filled Clark in on the thoughts that had interrupted her sleep and which had brought her to his doorstep so early in the morning. For his part, Clark found himself growing excited about Lois' theory as well, and could scarcely wait to get to work so that they could dive into their research. He was nearly certain they would soon be able to pin things on Luthor.
Still, he was glad of the fact that he didn't need as much sleep as a normal person. He'd been up pretty late working on the costume Martha had designed earlier in the evening. Together, they'd fine tuned the vibrant blue and red suit, giving it a few highlights of yellow and adding the S that was somehow bound to him. They'd toyed around with where it would go, ultimately deciding on the chest and the back of the cape. The final product hung now in his closet, waiting for him to gather the courage to actually use it.
"Okay, I need to shower and get ready for work," Lois said as she finished her second cup of coffee. "I'll meet you at the Planet?"
"Okay," Clark said, nodding.
"Thanks for the breakfast, Mister and Missus Kent," she said. "It was delicious. And it was really great meeting you. Again, I'm so, so sorry for waking everyone up this morning."
"We're used to being up with the chickens," Jonathan smiled. He took another sip from his mug.
"Maybe, but you're on vacation here," Lois protested.
"Oh, honey, don't worry about it," Martha said. "And please, you can call us Jonathan and Martha," she reminded Lois.
"We're glad we got to meet you," Jonathan added. "We've heard so much about you from Clark, so it was nice to be able to put a face to the name."
"He talks a lot about you too," Lois replied. "I've never met a son so proud of his parents before."
"Why don't you come by again tonight?" Martha offered. "Jonathan's going to be cooking up some steaks and I'm baking an apple pie."
"Sounds delicious. I'll be there," Lois said, grinning, and, from what Clark could see, practically salivating at the thought of a home cooked meal. Even after just a couple of months of knowing her, he knew her diet consisted, for the vast majority, of take-out.
"Thanks, Mom, Dad," Clark said.
"I really should head out," Lois said, throwing a glance to the clock. "I'd jog back, but I'm not sure that's possible after such a hearty breakfast. And getting a cab at this hour...See you later, Clark?"
"See you later," he confirmed.
Lois collected her belongings and headed out, leaving Clark behind with his parents. Already, he missed her. Somehow, even though his parents sat across the table from him, he felt incredibly lonely, as he did whenever he was separated from Lois.
"Does she always make a habit of visiting you at odd hours?" Jonathan finally joked, breaking the fragile silence of the apartment.
Clark chuckled. "That was a first."
His father grinned and chuckled in response. "She's wonderful, Clark."
"She really is," Martha agreed.
Clark felt himself blush. "Yeah, well, we've only been out a couple of times. But she makes me so happy. For the first time, I can see a future with a woman."
"But...?" Jonathan prodded, sensing Clark's hesitation.
"But...well...it almost feels too good to be true, you know? I find a place where I can finally fit in. I land my dream job. And now I've managed to start dating my dream woman. I can't help but feel like...I don't know. Like something's bound to give, you know? Like something's going to come along and take this all away from me." Clark sighed and drained the last of his coffee. "I'm over-thinking this, aren't I?"
"Maybe just a bit," his mother grinned at him, patting his shoulder.
"I just...what happens, if things get serious between us? She's going to have to know about me. All about me. What then? What if she can't handle the fact that I'm...not from here?"
"If she loves you, it won't matter," Jonathan assured him.
"I don't know if that's true, Dad. This isn't like some bad habit I have or some personality quirk that can be overlooked. I'm...for all intents and purposes...a different...species," he lamented.
"Clark!" Martha admonished.
"It's the truth, Mom! You and Dad both said that I'm not..."
"Clark, listen to me," Martha said firmly. "It doesn't matter where you came from. What matters is who you are - one of the best people I know. And, if Lois can't appreciate that..." She shrugged, letting her voice trail off so Clark could fill in the rest on his own.
"I don't know if I can handle a rejection from her," he said quietly.
"Look, son," Jonathan said. Clark looked over to his father. "It's not something you need to worry about yet. Let her get to know you for you, not for your powers or your unique background. If and when the time comes when she finds out or needs to know, well, you can worry about crossing that bridge then. Until then, she'll get to know the real you. And my guess? She'll care about you too much to be bothered by your differences."
"I hope so, Dad. I hope so."
To Be Continued...
