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From Part 2:“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.
*********
Now read on...Clark stood staring out of his bedroom window for a long time after Lois had left. He’d been wrong about her, he was beginning to suspect. He’d thought they were friends - close friends. She called him her best friend. He was the person she always called when she needed someone to talk to or was feeling unhappy about something. She’d told him she loved him as she would a brother.
She’d been cruel to him tonight.
Oh, he was used to her teasing, the little gibes and not-entirely-serious criticisms she levelled at him all the time. He was used to them, and he secretly liked them. Lois wasn’t the kind of person who showed affection openly, in public; her way of showing him that she liked him was to tell him that his tie was an offence to humanity or that she hoped he recognised how privileged he was to be her partner. Or that he was a lunkhead.
That was her normal way of behaving around him, though now frequently accompanied by a light touch on his arm or a pat to his chest - physical affection, as if to negate the possible effect of her words. He’d taken her criticisms of his clothes in exactly the same light as he took all the rest of her teasing: it was just Lois, and he never minded it. And she knew that, too, had known it since the first week they’d worked together; if he’d really had a problem with the way she treated him, he would have told her long ago. He got his revenge in subtle ways, too, by teasing her back when she least expected it.
It was their way of showing affection for each other. There was never any cruelty in it, and he knew very well that if Lois believed for one moment that she’d actually hurt him with her criticism, she’d instantly apologise.
But this had been different.
This had been cruel - deliberately cruel.
Lois was very good at reading body language. He was well aware that she’d noticed his discomfort over her comments concerning Cat Grant, and she’d chosen to ignore it. Even worse, she’d revealed that the closeness and trust he thought had developed between them over the past months hadn't been as real as he’d imagined. She still believed that he’d slept with Cat, and clearly, therefore, she thought that his previous denials had been false.
She believed that he’d lied to her.
She was supposed to be his friend. She was supposed to
trust him - and yet she neither trusted him nor respected him.
He sighed. Glancing across at the telephone on the nightstand, he was tempted to pick it up and tell Lois that he’d changed his mind. That he was grateful for the offer, but he didn’t need her to take him shopping. If he thought he needed a new wardrobe, he’d get it himself.
But he stopped himself. If he did that, then he’d be driving a further rift between them. Clearly, Lois had chosen to believe what she believed and, apart from her little bout of needling a short while ago, she’d treated it as unimportant. She probably had no idea just how he saw her actions and her lack of faith in him. As far as she was concerned, he was still a friend - but one who was a typical guy.
That was it. She was simply judging him by the standards of other men she’d known. They slept around, they lied, they abandoned the women they’d claimed to love, and they boasted of their conquests. He knew that was Lois’s experience with men she’d been romantically involved with. And he was well aware that her past experiences had shaped her cynicism about men and about life in general. It was perfectly understandable, given her past, that she could believe he’d slept with Cat and lied about it, and yet still consider him a friend.
And it was entirely possible that, though her actions had seemed deliberately cruel to him, to Lois it had just been yet more teasing - teasing she’d had no idea that he’d find hurtful.
He sighed again. No, he wouldn’t call off their arrangement. But he would try, some time soon, to convince her that he was telling the truth about Cat. And that her failure to believe him had hurt.
Spinning into his Suit, he strode out onto the balcony, wanting to wrap the night air around him and disappear into the silence of the dark, starry sky.
********
“So, where are we going?”
Lois glanced over at her passenger. He’d been silent almost from the moment of picking him up from his apartment. He’d barely looked at her other than when they’d exchanged greetings. Something was eating at him. Or, more likely, she’d decided, he’d just got out of bed on the wrong side that morning.
Men! If women ever dared to show a hint of bad mood, they were instantly accused of being ‘hormonal’. And yet a man could be withdrawn and sullen, or even sulky, and women were expected to fall all over themselves to be sympathetic. So, determined not to fall for that line, Lois had ignored Clark’s obvious bad temper.
And it had worked. He’d clearly given up on expecting her to question him, and he’d decided to start a conversation instead. She smiled inwardly at the success of her tactic. “The New Troy Outlet Park. Thought I’d take pity on your wallet and try the discount places first.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He sounded terse, and Lois rolled her eyes. This was going to be a
long day, if he didn’t snap out of it soon. Was he forgetting that she was doing him a favour with all this? She’d given up her Saturday, her day off, to take him shopping and give him the benefit of her advice on his choice of clothes. Did he really think that this was how she longed to spend her free time - that she was going to get a kick out of seeing him try on clothes? He owed her a little more in return than this sulkiness.
“Okay, Clark,” she said at last, her tone crisp. “You’ve got two choices. Either you tell me what’s eating you right now, and get it out of your system, or I turn this car around and dump you right back at your place.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his jolt of surprise. Then he sighed and turned to her. “Okay, Lois. There is something, though I guess I was trying to put it out of my mind.”
“You weren’t doing a very good job of it,” she pointed out acerbically.
“I guess not.” He paused and fell silent for a few moments. Then, abruptly, he spoke again. “Lois, why won’t you believe me about Cat Grant?”
“What?” His question was so unexpected that Lois actually took her attention off the road for a moment, and when she looked back she realised that she was in danger of running a red light. Jamming on the brakes, she muttered, “Now look what you made me do!”
“You want me to drive?” Clark asked, in something approaching his normal good-humoured manner.
“No! I’m fine,” she informed him brusquely, in a tone which warned him on pain of death never to criticise her driving again. “And don’t change the subject! What the heck are you talking about?”
“You persist in believing that I slept with Cat Grant,” he answered.
“Well, I don’t think a lot of sleeping went on...” she retorted automatically.
“Lois!” Now he sounded impatient and angry.
“What?!”
“I
did not sleep with Cat! I never laid a finger on her!” he almost shouted.
Lois frowned. He was serious? But he had to be, she concluded immediately. One thing she’d learned very quickly about Clark was that he didn’t lie about important things. In fact, she’d never really caught him in an untruth about anything. So if he was telling her that Cat was the one who’d been lying... then she should believe him.
Actually, that wasn’t a big deal. She was happy to accept his word there, and she was surprised at how pleased she felt at the thought that he’d never been with Cat. Why should it bother her, anyway? But what was puzzling now was why he seemed to be so upset that she’d believed he had.
Did it bother him that people thought he’d slept with the office flirt? Or was it something more personal... did it bother him that *she* thought it? They were friends, after all, in a way. Or maybe it was that he was afraid that the story would get back to this mysterious woman he was in love with.
Whatever. Anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to let him know that she accepted his version of events. “Okay, Clark,” she said calmly, indicating left for the outlet mall. “If you say that’s how it was, I believe you.”
“Thank you.” His voice was still terse, but then he added, sounding a little more friendly, “It wouldn’t’ve bothered me, but you did make a big deal about it the other night. Which told me that you didn’t believe me all the times I told you it never happened.”
So
that was it! He was upset, not because she thought he’d actually done the deed with Cat, but because she hadn’t accepted his denials. Okay. That probably did make a weird kind of sense, where Clark was concerned. He did seem to put quite a lot of store in the truth. Okay, she did too, but that was when it came to important things. Little lies... well, everyone told them, didn’t they?
Except maybe Clark. Well, that was something interesting to remember. And - who knew? - it might even be useful one of these days.
********
Lois finally parked the Jeep, having driven around their section of the huge car park at least half a dozen times in search of the ‘perfect’ parking space. It couldn’t be too far away from the mall entrance, but not too close either, because then people with strollers and bags would knock against it and scratch the paintwork. She wouldn’t park next to a beat-up old wreck, because the owner of a car like that wouldn’t care about getting another couple of dents, so her car would be at risk. And she wouldn’t park in a space next to a vehicle which was too close to the edge of the space next to it.
After the third space he’d pointed out had been comprehensively rejected by Lois for one or other of those reasons, Clark had simply given up trying to help. He’d known that his partner was compulsive about a couple of things, but this was a new one on him. But then, even though they did take the Jeep from time to time when they were out and about, he’d never actually been in this kind of parking lot with her before.
He stole a glance at her as she put the Jeep into park. She seemed untroubled by anything other than the prospect of several hours shepherding her partner around the mall; judging by her expression, Clark guessed that she regarded it as a challenge. From her attitude, the near-argument in the car might never have happened. He was very glad that it had, though. She finally seemed to believe him over Cat Grant, and they had today to get their friendship back on an even keel.
“Come on, partner. Introduce me to the places all the best-dressed guys shop,” he said cheerfully, getting out of the Jeep.
They walked together into the mall, which was arranged in a series of covered courtyards with a large store at each corner. “So where first?” Clark asked as they joined the throng of early shoppers. “Hey, you think they’ll have an LL Bean here?”
He stifled a grin and waited for her response. He wasn’t disappointed.
“You have
got to be kidding! If you think I’m even going to let you over the door of that place, Clark Kent, you have really got another think coming...” she growled immediately.
“But I like their stuff!” he protested. “They do some really great shirts...”
“Oh yeah? Like that repulsive plaid thing I saw the other night?” Lois pulled a disgusted face. “Trust me, Clark, that’s one place you’ll be avoiding in the future, if you take my advice. That is, assuming that you really want to learn how to dress stylishly?”
“Oh, I do, I do,” he assured her, doing his best to sound sincere. “Umm... Old Navy’s over there,” he pointed out, indicating with his hand. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
He could see Lois mentally counting to ten. “Only if you’re looking for more window-cleaning outfits,” she retorted disgustedly.
Clark laughed aloud. “Oh, Lois, it’s a good thing I’m not vain! Okay, okay, let’s get started. Where first?”
Lois gave him a sharp look, and he realised that she was wondering whether he’d been pushing her buttons. But he gave her an innocent smile, and she relaxed. “Nordstrom’s,” she answered, indicating the large department store several yards away. “They’re good for business suits, shirts, ties... you might be able to get most of what you want there.”
Clark fanned himself briefly. “Whoo! Lois, have you seen their prices?”
“Yeah. And, let me tell you, there are places even more expensive that I could take you to. Be grateful that I decided to try the outlet mall first.”
“I guess,” Clark agreed, doing mental calculations.
“That’s as long as they have your size, of course. And naturally they’re not going to have the latest styles here, but I figure that if you go for something classic, it won’t date too easily. And, sure, it’s expensive - but, like I told you, you’re in the big city now! You work for the best newspaper in Metropolis - the best newspaper in the country! So you can’t go around looking like you just came in on the last train from Hicksville, Clark!”
“I guess not,” he said, sighing. “Okay, Nordstrom’s here we come!”
********
Clark was being difficult. She should have expected it, of course; the guy seemed to be pathologically attached to his awful, hick clothing. And he was probably going to be all provincial and complain about the cost of everything. Well, he’d just have to understand that if he really wanted to cut it in Metropolis, he’d have to spend more than a hundred bucks on a business suit.
At least he was dressed semi-respectably today - jeans, but a clean and reasonably new pair, and a polo shirt under a casual jacket. A lot better than he’d looked at work the previous day, with that dreadful dark blue shirt he’d worn with a horribly clashing tie. Clark really needed to learn that light colours were far more appropriate to wear with a suit.
She couldn’t wait to get him into something more respectable than the clothes he’d been wearing since his arrival at the Planet. Okay, her partner did seem to have one good suit, but since he couldn't wear that all the time, he still occasionally turned up in something which looked as if it had been inherited from his father - or perhaps even his grandfather. And looked two sizes too big for him.
In Nordstrom’s, he made straight for the suit racks and started rifling through them, obviously looking for his size. Lois marched over and grabbed him by the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” he retorted, eyebrows raised.
“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “
First, you get measured. Then the assistant will get you something appropriate to try on.”
Clark rolled his eyes, but obediently followed her over to where an assistant was already approaching them.
“Hi! And how are you today?” the smart-suited young man asked. “And how can I help you?”
“I’m good,” Lois said briefly; she didn’t care for the false courtesies which were the expected routine in stores like this. She really didn’t care how the shop assistant was, and she certainly didn’t want to be bothered answering his pointless enquiry. Getting straight to the point, she added, “My friend here needs to be measured up for a suit.”
“Certainly, sir,” the assistant responded, his attention switching to Clark. Lois noticed a seat close by, and took it. Clark gave her a faintly irritated look as it became clear that the assistant was going to measure him right where he was. He removed his jacket, revealing a short-sleeved polo shirt tucked into his blue jeans and, as the assistant wound the tape around Clark’s chest, Lois allowed herself to notice how the shirt moulded itself to his pectoral muscles.
Yes, her partner was pretty well-built all right. But then, she knew he worked out. Hadn’t he mentioned taking his father to the gym the other week, when Jonathan Kent had turned up full of fear that Martha was having an affair? Clark clearly kept his body pumped. Which she wasn’t going to complain about; it made the view pretty good, for one thing, and it also reassured her that he wouldn’t have a problem keeping up with her and defending himself if they got into danger.
“Now, here’s a little problem, sir,” the assistant remarked, having finished his measurements. “As soon as I looked at you, I thought that you must have trouble getting suits to fit you - am I right?”
Clark looked surprised, but just shrugged.
“See, your chest measurement is 44, but your waist is only 32. But if your body was in proportion, you’d have a 38 waist. So no off-the-rack suit is going to fit you - and if you buy one off the rack and just get the waist taken in on the trousers, it won’t hang well on you and the suit will look baggy.”
By Clark’s expression, this was a familiar problem; Lois guessed that Martha Kent had done exactly that with the dark grey suit Clark owned. No wonder his clothes always looked as if they were a size or more too big for him!
She laughed aloud, unable to stop herself. “Oh, Clark, I never knew you had such a funny shape!”
He glared at her, gesturing with his hand for her to keep quiet. She simply grinned back at him.
“So what do you recommend?” she asked the assistant, ignoring Clark.
“Mix and match, to start with,” he said instantly, moving to a rack containing designer-label suits - Hugo Boss, Lois noted with approval. “A 44-inch jacket, and a pair of trousers from over here - ” He reached further along to the smaller sizes, pulling out a pair. “Inside leg 33, at a guess? And I’m going to give you a 33-inch waist, just to allow you some room - you seem pretty muscular down there,” he added, eyeing Clark up and down in a way which made Lois wonder about the man’s sexual preferences.
Clearly Clark was wondering the same thing; he flushed and squirmed noticeably. In an abrupt gesture, he took the garments the man was holding out and muttered that he would go and try them on.
“Wait - you need a shirt. And a tie, if it’s going to look right. Let me guess...” the assistant said, his gaze continuing to wander over Clark. “Collar size 16? Or maybe a half-size up?”
“Sixteen and a half,” Clark confirmed.
Laden down with clothing, Clark was ushered to a changing-room; Lois moved to a chair just outside, determined to see the end result. After several minutes, her partner emerged, and she had to stifle a gasp.
He looked terrific. The suit was in a plain charcoal grey, a colour of which she approved. It was single-breasted, and the jacket fitted him snugly across his back and shoulders. The trousers appeared to be well-cut, though the end of the jacket prevented her from seeing the way they sat over his hips.
“Sir, could you take off the jacket for a moment?”
Had he read her mind? Lois almost had to stifle a gasp as the assistant spoke. Clark obeyed, turning around when requested, and she found herself staring at a very attractive view. Her partner had an extremely trim waist, she realised, but he could certainly fill out a pair of trousers in the butt. Suddenly, she could understand why some people wolf-whistled at an attractive member of the opposite sex.
Not that she would... Not that she was even remotely interested... No! All she was doing was recognising the aesthetic appeal of Clark Kent. That was all. Just because she admired a beautiful painting, for example, didn’t mean that she wanted to buy it! And Clark was... well, okay, he had a cute butt. And some well-honed muscles. But there was no way that she was even slightly att -
“Lois?” Her attention jerked back to reality. By the expression on Clark’s face, it wasn’t the first time he’d called her name.
“What?”
“Well, what do you think?”
He was standing right in front of her. Unable to resist, she stretched out a hand and brushed it against the soft wool of the trousers, pressing just hard enough to feel the hardness of his thigh under the fabric. “Nice,” she murmured, smothering a grin.
“You think it looks all right?”
“I think it looks great, Clark! See what a difference it makes, getting something good quality and which actually fits you?”
“Yeah.” He pulled the jacket on again, to her disappointment, then strolled over to examine his reflection in a nearby mirror. The well-made garment was such an improvement, Lois thought. Not that Clark had ever been anything but good-looking, she acknowledged with a wry sigh. But now... She found herself wondering whether it would be safe to let such an apparent innocent as her partner loose in the newsroom looking like this.
"You're going to buy it, of course," she said, watching him.
He turned to look at the salesman. "Can I? I mean, this is part of two different suits..."
"Actually, you're in luck, sir," the assistant said. "We have a special promotion on at the moment." He indicated some signs. "If you buy a suit, you get a spare pair of trousers free. Because of the promotion, we're treating jackets and trousers as separates - so you can have the suit you're wearing, and an extra pair of pants too."
Lois sidled up to Clark. "If I were you, I'd take advantage of the offer and get a second suit today. How about something in pale grey?"
“Hmm... you really think I need to?” he asked, frowning.
“Do I think you need two suits as a bare minimum?” Lois answered, giving him an incredulous look. “You bet I do! Clark, just how did you think you were going to manage with only one?”
He shrugged slightly. “I guess you’re right.”
“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 smiled covertly, her rant forgotten about. She wasn’t going to complain about getting another opportunity to see her partner modelling a piece of great tailoring!
*******
...tbc
