Table of Contents
From Part 1:There were times when, quite honestly, Lois thought her partner was living on another planet entirely. He’d seem to lose the entire thread of a conversation. He’d run out without any warning and often no excuse, and would return after some time either with a completely ridiculous reason or no explanation at all. And then when a woman said anything flirtatious anywhere around him, he’d get a look reminiscent of the proverbial deer in the headlights. It was very cliched, but that was exactly how Clark looked at times.
A sophisticated, intelligent and cultured man about town just didn’t show his naivete like that.
Lois rolled her eyes. The thought of taking Clark on, doing anything about all of that stuff, would be a major challenge. And how Martha thought that anyone could accomplish it was beyond...
Beyond her? Naah.
Nothing was beyond Lois Lane. If she set herself a challenge, she
would accomplish it.
She
could transform Clark into a smart, well-dressed and sophisticated guy. No problem!
**********
Now read on...Clark had been aware of Lois from the instant she’d walked into the newsroom. But then, that was nothing new. He was always aware of his beautiful, brilliant partner. Where she was concerned, he had some kind of sixth sense, a reaction which had nothing to do with any of his myriad powers.
She’d been very mysterious before disappearing at lunchtime. He’d hoped to persuade her to share a chicken sandwich on rye with him in the park, since it was a nice day. They could have walked and fed the ducks, and just had a few minutes alone together, the kind of occasion which was both rare and precious as far as Clark was concerned.
She was watching him. Okay, she was pretending that she was just standing at the coffee machine, deep in thought, but he knew Lois. She almost never daydreamed, and especially not at work. Besides, he’d taken a surreptitious look, bending down to get something out of his filing cabinet and using his special vision to look at her through the cabinet. She was definitely watching him.
And now she was headed in his direction. No doubt she had some scheme in mind - whether it had to do with one of their stories, or some favour she wanted him to do for her, he had no idea.
“Clark!” Lois said brightly as she reached his desk. Then, apparently uncaring about any of the work which was spread around the surface, she perched on the edge of his desk and rested one foot against his chair.
“Lois?” he queried, a little nervously; having her this close to him had a tendency to interfere with his normal brain functioning, leaving him tongue-tied and awkward.
“You know, Clark, that jacket really does reek of Kansas,” she said idly, flicking at his lapel.
“Well, you know, that could just be because I’m from Kansas,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but you live in Metropolis now. And, more importantly, you work in Metropolis. For the Planet. As my partner, what’s more. Don’t you think that maybe you have an image to maintain?”
What was she up to? Clark couldn’t figure out where any of this could be leading. He shrugged. “I’ve never been one for image, Lois. What you see is what you get.”
“You’re not in Kansas any more, Dorothy,” she said, a little sardonically. “To put it another way, Clark, you’re not a farmboy any more. You’re a reporter. If what I see is what I get,” she added, emphasising the phrase, “then I should be looking at smart suits, crisp white shirts and ties which don't give me a headache simply by looking at them.”
“Did you come over here just to criticise my wardrobe?” Clark asked, feeling irritated at her assessment of him.
“Clark, you shouldn’t take this personally,” Lois told him, her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re partners, and we do a very important job. And, whether you like it or not, image
is important. And - as your partner - I would appreciate it if you could do something about it. I mean, you must have noticed the way I dress for work.”
Oh yes, he’d definitely noticed
that. He looked her up and down, taking in the way today’s outfit complemented her slim and very feminine figure. All the same, he thought, she was right; he’d always admired her smart outfits. Of course, it didn’t hurt when they came with short skirts which revealed more of her long, shapely legs!
“Okay, you have a point,” he acknowledged. “I know I don’t dress like something out of GQ - but, Lois, that’s just not me.”
“You don’t need to wear Armani suits to look good, Clark,” she said. “Look, I have an idea - don’t you have a birthday coming up in a couple of weeks?”
He frowned. “Yeah, but how did you know that?”
Lois shrugged. “It’s in your personnel file.”
He stared at her. “You’ve seen my
personnel file?”
Her expression clearly told him that she thought he was making a fuss about nothing. Well, he supposed, the word ‘private’ didn’t mean much where Lois Lane was concerned.
“Well, this is a one-time offer, Kent,” she continued. “As a birthday present - and make the most of it, because I don’t give presents - you’re going to get my services as a style consultant. You’re not going to recognise yourself by the time I’ve finished with you!”
That sounded alarming, Clark thought. He wasn’t altogether sure that he wanted any kind of makeover, and especially not one as radical as Lois seemed to be envisaging.
On the other hand, she did have a point. He did sometimes feel out of place in his shabby old suits and mismatched jackets and trousers. And, while being at the cutting-edge of fashion didn’t interest him in the least, he’d occasionally thought that he really should smarten up his act. Some time soon. Once he had time to do some decent shopping - once he figured out what sort of thing he should be buying and how not to bankrupt himself in doing so.
Clark leaned back in his chair, thinking over Lois’s offer. Now, that could definitely be interesting, he thought. For a start, it would require her to spend quite a bit of time alone with him, probably over a period of a couple of weeks. And second, it would give him an opportunity to find out what she liked in a man’s appearance - which could be a very useful piece of information.
“Okay, I accept,” he said. “So, when do we start?”
*********
Well, that hadn’t been too difficult, Lois thought as she got back to work. And helping Clark to sort out his appearance would go a long way towards doing what Martha had asked. If Clark looked smarter, then he’d be more confident, wouldn’t he?
She tried to suppress the thought that Martha had also said she was worried that Clark also seemed to be unsure of himself with women. Lois wasn’t convinced that this was true, although - as she’d told Martha - she could remember occasions when Clark had looked semi-panicked because of a woman.
But that wasn’t her problem! What did Martha expect her to do? Give him lessons in asking women for dates? Teach him about the kind of things women liked to talk about? Be his dating mentor or something?
That was expecting far too much. And anyway, Clark would probably think she was crazy if she suggested it. No; sorting out his wardrobe would be more than enough to fulfil her promise to Martha.
Next weekend, she reminded herself. She’d suggested taking Clark shopping; the Upper Metropolis Mall was only a couple of miles from her apartment and it had all the best chains in men’s outfitters. But then he’d taken her aback by suggesting that before they went shopping she really should familiarise herself with what he already had available in the way of clothing.
“I’ve seen what you have,” she’d said dismissively. “We need to go shopping, Clark. And you might want to consider getting your credit limit raised.”
He'd sighed at that. But then he’d given her a rueful, almost pleading smile. “You haven’t seen much of what I wear when I’m not at work and - well, if you think what I wear to work isn’t fashionable enough, then you’d probably think the same of my casual gear. I think I’d appreciate your opinion on some of that stuff.”
He seemed to be learning, she thought. At any rate, he’d accepted that she was right; she'd make sure that he also realised just how much of a favour she was doing him here!
*********
Clark took one last Super-speed zip around his apartment, then stood near the doorway to survey the result. It was about as tidy as he was going to get it. A couple of news magazines lay on the coffee-table, and a biography of a recently-retired world statesman - which he was actually reading - was on his nightstand. He’d show Lois that he wasn’t as uncultured as she seemed to think!
And she was due any minute now, he realised.
He glanced down at himself, debating yet again whether he should change his clothes. When he’d got home from work he’d put on clean jeans and a form-fitting charcoal T-shirt, which was more or less what he normally wore as casual apparel. But he hadn’t quite decided how to handle this wardrobe-appraisal session with Lois.
He’d been so tempted to wear the most disreputable jeans he could find, together with his shabbiest plaid shirt - the one he kept for things like painting the apartment. After all, if Lois was so convinced that he needed a makeover, why not play to her prejudices and let her see him as an unreconstructed Kansas hick, complete with sagging jeans and straw between his teeth?
On the other hand, his ego hadn’t really cared for that idea. He wanted Lois to see him as an attractive guy, and that required him to look just a little bit more desirable than old Chuck Masters who had the farm five miles up the road from his parents’ place.
The T-shirt he’d chosen was pretty clingy in all the right places, and he’d selected that while remembering the way Lois had looked at his chest that day he’d opened the door to her while only wearing a towel.
If she’d liked what she saw then... well, maybe he should remind her of it, he’d decided, pulling the T-shirt over his head.
But maybe the hayseed type would be more fun to play, he thought now with amusement. Especially if he played up his Kansas accent at the same time. He could just see her reaction when she realised just how much work she had to do on him.
Ego won out over devilment, however, and he stayed as he was. Just in time, too, for in the next moment there was a sharp rap on the door. He’d barely pulled it open before Lois was charging straight into the living-room, talking nineteen to the dozen so that he was unable even to get a greeting out.
“Okay, Clark, I haven’t got much time this evening, so maybe you better just show me what you’ve got so that I get an idea of how much shopping we need to do and where your real weaknesses are, and... uh...” She trailed off abruptly, and Clark choked back a grin of amusement as he saw her appraise his upper body. So the T-shirt had been the right choice after all, he thought, laughing silently.
“Hi, Lois,” he said pointedly.
“Huh?” She blinked, then shifted her gaze to his face. “Umm... what? Oh,
Clark!” she exclaimed impatiently. “I said I don't have much time, so can we get on with it? Where’s the bedroom?”
Clark grinned, unable to resist such an obvious straight line. “Why, Lois, I never knew you cared! Should I strip first, or would you prefer to undress me yourself?”
“Oh, cute,” she said sourly. “I suppose they appreciate pick-up lines like that in Smallville.”
He grinned again. “You just don’t know what you’re missing, Lois,” he said with a wink, then indicated that she should follow him. “This way.”
After a momentary hesitation, she accompanied him. Once in the bedroom, Clark noticed that she seemed to be avoiding looking at his bed, which surprised him: the city sophisticate type which Lois exuded surely wouldn’t be embarrassed at finding herself in a man’s bedroom in a non-sexual context? Only a few weeks ago, she’d gone to interview a man whose reputation was as something of a playboy, and she’d deliberately set out to vamp him. She’d made no secret of her intentions when she appeared in the newsroom dressed in a suggestively revealing suit.
This sudden nervousness was unexpected, he thought. Unless... Perhaps, if put together with the tiny glimpses Lois had allowed him of her personal life, including relationships gone badly wrong, he could assume that she wasn’t as experienced or blase as she might want people to believe when it came to sex or romance?
Interesting, he thought, then filed his conclusions away for another time.
***********
She still wasn’t sure whether she liked Clark’s apartment, Lois thought as she waited for him to show her his clothes collection. He’d made the most of the light and the space, she thought, but its open-plan nature made her long for the privacy of her own apartment, which had proper
rooms. With
doors.
It wasn’t even possible to get to the bathroom in Clark’s apartment without walking through his bedroom!
And as for the bedroom...! Bare brick wall, and a huge window which didn’t seem to have any proper curtain. How did he ensure his privacy? And the door to his balcony, she remembered, was in the bedroom as well. So any time he wanted to bring guests out onto the balcony, he had to take them through his bedroom. Though, she supposed cynically, that could be a useful ploy...
Not Clark.
Lois had no idea why she was suddenly so convinced of that, but she just knew that her partner, however much he might tease her, would never stoop to underhand tactics to get a woman into bed. And if she needed proof, all she had to do was remember how honourably he’d behaved when she’d been affected by that pheromone compound and she’d practically tried to drag him into bed. He hadn’t laid a finger on her, and had resisted her to the best of his abilities.
What other male of her acquaintance could she have said that about?
Okay, so she was safe with Clark, at least in that sense. Though all it probably meant was that he wasn’t attracted to her. Which made sense - after all, hadn’t his mother told her that he was in love with someone else?
Clark was in love. With... who, exactly? Martha hadn’t said much, other than to say that she was a city woman. Well, Clark was a pretty intelligent guy, despite his down-home ways, so she couldn't really see him settling for an airhead. Or someone like Cat Grant, all flaunting sex on legs as she was. Clark might admire obviously sexual women, but somehow Lois had the feeling that he wouldn’t want a serious relationship with someone like that. A woman who was that confident in her own attractiveness would scare Clark Kent rigid. Lois was fairly sure of that conclusion, at any rate, even though she did know - thanks to Cat’s complete lack of familiarity with the concept of discretion - that Clark had slept with Cat.
A secretary? Maybe... that way, Clark would be almost certain to have a girlfriend who would look up to him and admire him. He'd be the more intelligent and higher-earning partner in the relationship. He’d like that, she thought. Men preferred women who weren’t a threat to them in any way, in her experience. Someone who’d look up to them and think that they were wonderful...
Although it wasn’t really fair to suggest that Clark liked anything approaching hero-worship, Lois conceded. He did seem to be a pretty down-to-earth, friendly guy. And, apart from that one time when they were undercover, when he really had acted like a macho sexist, she hadn’t seen any signs that Clark Kent regarded women as in any way inferior. He treated everyone he encountered, male or female, with respect.
And anyway, now that she thought about it, from what Martha had said - and hadn’t said - it almost sounded as if Clark was a little intimidated by the object of his affections.
So perhaps she was a professional woman too? Hmm... a cop? A lawyer? Clark would have plenty of opportunity to run into women in those positions in the course of his daily routine. A doctor? Someone like that would make sense, Lois mused as Clark began to rifle through the contents of the battered piece of dark furniture which clearly served as a wardrobe.
A woman who earned more than he did. Would Clark have a problem with that - a dent to his ego? Or would he see it as a good thing, something to be proud of? Perhaps it might even flatter his ego, allowing him to boast that he was able to attract a woman who had greater status than he did himself? The idea of Clark Kent as a kept man - a house-husband - occurred to her then, and she couldn’t resist an amused smile at the thought of Clark cooking and cleaning for his hunter-gatherer girlfriend. That tall, muscled body would look good in an apron, she thought with a grin.
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, is it?” Clark’s voice, sounding anxious, cut into her thoughts.
“What?” Lois snapped out of her imaginings, in which her partner was slaving over a hot stove as his immaculately-dressed high-powered girlfriend marched in demanding to know why the meal wasn’t already on the table.
“This shirt,” he said, a note of impatience in his voice, and she finally noticed the garment which he was holding up in front of her.
It was... plaid. In shades of green and orange and brown, and it had a patch on one elbow. And it was repulsive.
“What on earth is
that?” she demanded, appalled. “Are you telling me that you actually
wear it?”
“Well, I don’t use it to clean the windows with,” Clark retorted with faint sarcasm.
“Pity. That’s about all it’s good for,” she informed him. “I hope this isn’t a representative sample of your wardrobe, or you’re going to need a bank loan.”
He stared at her, clearly lost for words. Feeling just a little bit sorry for him, she sighed. “Clark, something like that shirt is fine for Smallville. But you’re not down on the farm any more. You need to smarten up your act if you’re going to fit in in the big city.”
He dropped the shirt on his bed, raking one hand through his dark hair. “Okay, okay. I get the message. I have no dress sense and I look like something the cat dragged in - is that it?”
Lois was about to roll her eyes and come up with a sharp retort reminding him that she was doing him a favour here, when she actually looked at him. Those dark eyes of his were dancing impishly behind his glasses, despite the straight line of his lips. He was teasing her, and enjoying the fact that he was yanking her chain!
She paused, resting one hand on her hip and studying him thoughtfully. “Well, as we’ve already established, your dress sense leaves a
lot to be desired. And we already know that the Cat did drag you in...” she added scornfully.
Lois was pleased to note that he flushed at that. “Lois, she did
not... I never...”
“What was it again? Bongo drums and leopard-skin mini-skirts? So what were you wearing? A loincloth?”
“Lois!” Clark exclaimed, the teasing expression now replaced by one of exasperation. “I never touched her! And I have no idea why she implied to everyone that we had... had...”
“Done the horizontal lambada?” Lois finished with a smirk and a strong tinge of irony. “Though, knowing Cat, I’d imagine that she’d consider it boring to stick to doing it horizontally.”
To her great interest, Clark’s blush spread even wider over his features. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have imagined that she’d really embarrassed him - that he simply wasn’t accustomed to discussing his sex life. It was almost as if he was inexperienced where sex was concerned - though she doubted that.
“Okay, Clark,” she said abruptly, tiring of her little revenge. It really wasn’t fair to tease him about Cat; he clearly hated it. It was obvious that he was ashamed of his one moment of weakness where their colleague was concerned - she’d known that at the time, and she’d been unkind, really, to bring it up again after all this time. It wasn’t even as if it was something which had bothered her since, was it?
“I don’t really think I need to see any more,” she told him. “Just be ready on Saturday morning by eight-thirty, all right?”
“Ready?” His blushes gone, now he looked puzzled.
“To go shopping, Clark! What did you think?”
“Okay. I’ll be there. With my credit card and a mortgage,” he promised with a wry grin.
*********
...tbc
