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Part 3
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Lois woke up on Valentine's morning to the sound of rain drumming against her window. She stretched and then rolled over, pulling the covers up higher. There was something decadent about lying in a soft, warm bed during a rainstorm. She thought about her upcoming date with Clark that night and her pulse ratcheted into overdrive. A glance at the clock revealed that she had another twelve and a half hours until seven p.m.
What to do with the day? She could clean her apartment. She could play tourist again. She could go to work. It was a sad commentary on her life when going to work was the most appealing option to her.
An hour later she stepped briskly off the elevator into the newsroom. Her gaze was immediately drawn to Clark's desk only to find it empty. It didn't matter. In eleven hours and twenty-three minutes she'd be knocking on his door. Not that she was counting the minutes or anything.
Perry did a double-take when he saw her, but it seemed he knew better than to harass her. He merely stopped by her desk and asked, "What are you working on today?"
"Gretchen Kelly," Lois answered. "How did she get Lex's body? How did she bring him back to life?"
Perry's expression became concerned. "Were you planning on interviewing Lex for this story?"
"No. At least, not right away. I'll see what I can find out from everyone else who knew her first."
Lex. The thought of having to talk to him made her skin crawl. Lois glanced over at Clark's desk. If and when she did talk to Lex, she wanted Clark there. She didn't need protection. She needed someone to stop her from strangling the man. Then again, Clark's reaction when he found out that Lex was alive and loose in Metropolis made her wonder if she'd be the one holding Clark back.
Lois checked her wristwatch. Ten hours and fifty-six minutes to go. She allowed herself a grim smile at the irony that Clark had kept her mind off of Lex on the night he'd reappeared in her life and now she was using Lex to keep her mind off Clark.
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At two minutes before seven that evening, Lois was standing in front of Clark's door. She had been determined not to wear anything remotely red-colored so she had chosen a dark blue sleeveless dress. She had agonized for nearly an hour over how to wear her hair. Twice she had pinned it up, only to take it back down. There was no sense in looking too formal. Tonight was simply a nice, semi-casual, dinner between friends, that was all. Well, okay, it was a date. It was a real date. What would a real date with Clark entail? Would he kiss her? Or should she call his bluff and kiss him first? She had come so close the night before, it would be a waste if she got the chance again and squandered it tonight.
Lois took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could smell something delicious wafting from inside and her stomach gurgled in anticipation. The last time a date had cooked for her she had been a sophomore in college. Rick Sanchez had made her a grilled cheese sandwich on a hot plate in his dorm room. Hopefully tonight wouldn't end with the same sort of awkward fumbling that had followed that long-ago meal. Clark hardly seemed the type to expect a little action as the price of dinner.
It dawned on her that Clark had cooked for her before tonight. He'd even made her a grilled cheese a few weeks ago when they were watching a movie. She told herself that tonight wasn't really much different. Okay, so she was dressed nicer. The meal had probably taken a little more effort and they'd be eating at the table instead of on the sofa, but the same basic principles applied. It was a meal with Clark. They had eaten together countess times before. Tonight was no different, if you excluded the fact that she had sort of set a goal for herself not to leave without finding out what it was like to kiss him without it being part of a ruse.
She took another calming breath and knocked on the door.
When the door opened, her jaw almost dropped. Clark was wearing a dark suit and a tie that was considerably more conservative than the ones he usually wore. Her first coherent thought was gratitude that he didn't come to work dressed this elegant because she'd never get anything done.
For a few seconds they both simply stared at each other. "Wow," he said in an awed tone. "You look amazing."
"Thanks. You, too." She gave him a shy grin. "Is that a new suit?"
Clark looked down at his suit and then back up at her with a pleased smile. "I just got it. I wasn't sure about it, but the sales guy said it 'pulled me together'."
"He was right. Did he pick out that tie, too?"
His grin widened. "You like it?"
"Very much." Lois impulsively reached out to straighten his tie. Her fingers stilled the moment she realized how forward the gesture was and she snatched her hand away. "So, uh, are you going to invite me in or are we eating out here?"
"Sorry." Clark stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. "Please come in."
Lois stepped inside and then stopped short. Instead of overhead lights, his apartment was lit by the glow of hundreds of tiny white Christmas lights strung across his bookshelves and woven along the stair railings and banisters. She'd always thought Clark's place felt cozier than hers, in spite of the high ceilings. Tonight it looked like an enchanted fairyland. His kitchen table was set with nice china and a single long stemmed rose in a vase. Two tall, slender candles burned on either side of the rose. Soft music was playing in the background.
"Clark, I, wow--." Lois was speechless at how much thought and effort he had put into this date. He hadn't just made her dinner. He had gone out and bought a new suit and had probably spent hours decorating. For her. He had done all of this for her.
"I wanted to make sure you didn't confuse this with a pizza and video kind of date." He offered her his arm and she took it. They walked down the stairs together. With each step down she could almost swear she was falling deeper and deeper for him. No one had ever gone to this much effort for her. It was as exhilarating as it was flattering..
"It smells wonderful."
"It tastes even better," he said and pulled a chair out for her.
He wasn't exaggerating. The creamy pasta he'd made was vastly different from the stuff that came from a box. The orange powder-based glop she'd eaten since childhood didn't even come close.
They chatted as they ate about stories they had worked on, their co-workers and, eventually, her trip to Kinshasa. One of biggest fears had been that she'd have nothing to say to him in a more formal setting. She couldn't have been more wrong. Clark was simply Clark. Nothing had changed just because they were dating. Well, almost nothing. At the back of her mind there was constantly the realization that she desperately wanted to kiss him.
"Are you ready for desert?" he asked after she had finished a second helping.
"Did you really make vanilla pudding?"
He smiled and stood up. "I really, really did." Clark opened a cupboard and peered inside. Then he opened another and then another.
"You can't find the pudding?" she teased. "Maybe you should have kept it in the fridge."
"No, I can't find my hand mixer. I swear I have one here somewhere." He started looking in the cabinets beneath the countertop, moving pots and pans around with what seemed to be increasing desperation.
"So the pudding isn't finished?"
Clark straightened up, his expression sheepish. "I was going to put whipped cream on top."
"You don't have whipped cream in a can?"
He shook his head.
Lois shrugged. "If the pudding is really that good, why not serve it plain?"
He sighed and opened the refrigerator to take it out. "All right. But you'd better not deduct points for presentation."
Lois laughed. "You think I'm keeping score?"
"You're always keeping score."
She was about to deny it, when she realized he was probably right. "You've already outscored all other dates I've been on combined, Clark. I stopped keeping score about thirty seconds after I got here."
He grinned. "Okay. I'll risk it."
"I'm worth the risk," she said with a smile.
His expression softened. "You're worth any risk, Lois."
The earnestness of his words was deepened by how quietly they were spoken. Her stomach fluttered as she recognized that he wasn't joking. Both excited and frightened by the possibilities this created, Lois looked down at her empty plate in time to see it move away and be replaced by a small bowl of pudding.
"Oh my god," she moaned around the first spoonful. The pudding was practically an out-of-body experience. She closed her eyes to savor it. When she opened them again she found Clark was sitting across the table and watching her expectantly.
Lois adopted a frown. "I don't know," she said slowly. "It's missing something. Whipped cream, maybe?"
His eyes twinkled in a suppressed laugh. "I appreciate your honesty."
She ate another spoonful of pudding. "Because it's you, I'll overlook it."
"Thanks." Clark gave her a teasing salute with his spoon before taking a bite.
After she had scraped the last bit of pudding from the bowl, Lois sat back in her chair, utterly content, and looked at Clark with new eyes. "So do you cook like this every night?"
"Most nights, yeah." Clark shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. "I like cooking. It relaxes me."
"You can come relax at my place any time you want."
He let out a laugh. "Okay."
Lois leaned forward. "You don't think I'm serious, do you?"
"On the contrary, I'm hoping you are."
Lois giggled. She wasn't sure if it was the romantic atmosphere or Clark himself, but she was starting to feel giddy. The thought of eating dinner with him every night was wildly appealing. Hell, he didn't even have to string up Christmas lights. She could be happy with nothing but pudding and his company.
Needing to steer her thoughts in a new direction, Lois looked past him and saw that he had also strung lights around the large window in the part of his loft that served as a bedroom. From her vantage point she could see the bottom corner of his bed. Unbidden, the memory of Clark carrying her to the bedroom door on Saturday night flashed through her mind. After he set her down, his hand had lingered on her waist. She had been unable to stop touching his chest, reluctant to lose the heady feeling of being that close to him. If she hadn't been sick that night, she would have kissed him. Now that dinner was nearly over, there was nothing left to do but kiss him. Just the thought of that set her pulse racing. She stood up abruptly and grabbed her empty bowl to take it to the sink.
"Lois? You don't need to clean up." Clark's fingers brushed the bare skin of her left arm to catch her attention. Caught off-guard, Lois dropped the bowl into the sink and swore under her breath. It landed with a clatter but didn't break.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Did I do something wrong?'
Only if doing everything right was wrong. Which in his case, it definitely was. Lois bit her lip and fought the urge to say that it wasn't him, it was her. It would have been absolutely true.
"Talk to me." Clark leaned back against the counter. He wasn't touching her, but he was irresistibly close. "Is this about being afraid that things will change if we start going out?"
A pang went through Lois at how well he knew her. "It's changed already. You aren't just some guy I work with. You're my best friend."
"If that's all you want from me, Lois, I'm happy with that."
"Really?" Her voice had become shaky and high pitched. "Because I don't think I can be happy with that. I want--." Lois hesitated, unsure what to say next. She wanted a lot of things right now. "I want--."
She looked up at him, hoping that he'd understand what she was trying to say, even if she didn't exactly understand it herself. His dark eyes looked deeply into hers, Lois felt almost hypnotized by the intensity of his gaze and the electric charge that seemed to crackle in the space between them.
"What do you want?" he asked quietly.
Lois shook her head, torn between what she knew was safe and the risk of trying for everything. "I don't want this to get complicated."
"It's just us. We've eaten together before."
Lois wanted to shake him. He knew damn well that there was a huge difference between tonight and any other meal they had shared. He had said himself that he didn't want her to confuse this date with their typical pizza and a video. He couldn't have it both ways.
"Tonight is different, Clark! You never strung up Christmas light for me before. You bought a new suit. And you cooked. And you lit candles and--." His expression fell and she hastened to reassure him. "I didn't mean it like that. I know you went to a lot of trouble to make tonight nice and I really do appreciate it. Dinner was great and, when we were talking, that felt right. It felt like us. I like us."
"So I guess you need to decide what kind of us you want us to be."
Her breath caught in her throat. "Why do I have to decide? What do you want?"
Clark didn't pause to consider, didn't even blink; he simply said, "You."
"Oh." It was all she could say. That kind of simple honesty was hard to argue with.
"We can take this slow," he reassured her. "We don't have to rush into any--."
She didn't give him the chance to finish. She swiftly closed the distance between them and covered his mouth with hers. For a breathless moment, neither of them moved. Then his hand cupped the back of her head , bringing her lips against his in a decisive kiss.
The world slowed down around them. Sensations were sharper. The fabric of his suit against the bare skin of her arms, the faintly vanilla taste of his kiss, and the muted groan he made were all distinct experiences that she was sure she'd never forget. Lois twined her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, touching her tongue to his. His response was a soft, slow and utterly thorough kiss that sent a fresh rush of heat through her belly.
When their kiss broke Clark looked as dazed as she felt.
"Do you think we're rushing things?" she panted.
He kissed her forehead and murmured, "I've waited two years to kiss you like this."
"Have you?" Lois was left even more breathless at the thought.
He nodded and bent his head to kiss her again. Her last functioning brain cell told her that nothing this deliberate could be rushing things. She suddenly had a new and deep appreciation of all those times that Clark's slow approach had frustrated her. Lois wondered if her spontaneity ever drove him just as crazy. Together maybe they were the perfect blend of caution and recklessness.
The kiss ended and she laid her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "This feels right, doesn't it?" she whispered.
"It feels like us." His arms tightened around her.
"I like us," she said with a giggle. Lois relaxed against him, utterly content. Who would have ever believed her favorite place in the world would turn out to be snuggled up between Clark and his kitchen sink?
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End
My thanks to Emily and Brenda for last minute hand-holding and beta duties.
