Summary: Lois and Clark have hit a roadblock in an investigation they’ve been working on for weeks. When Perry offers up an unconventional lead that might allow them to crack the case, Clark reluctantly agrees.
Author’s note: I…don’t know. Read at your own risk. This came from somewhere. I think it was a challenge issued by KSaraSara on Discord, which arose in the general chaos that happened after KateSO posted some generated images of Superman pole dancing… So, um, enjoy?
NopeBy Bek
“Nope! Nuh-uh. Perry, you can’t be serious?!”
“Now, Lois, take it easy. I’m sure Clark’s a total professional, and he can handle it. Right, Clark?”
“As his
wife, I’m vetoing this idea. It’s just
not okay!”
“Need I remind you, Lois, of the time you went undercover and ended up in a skin-tight chicken costume with bright yellow feathers?”
“Butt out, Jimmy, no one was asking you!”
“Lois, I think we should let Clark speak for himself on this one.”
The whole room turns to me. Lois has that look—the one that says if I don’t agree with her, she’s never going to speak to me again. Jimmy’s just…grinning. And Perry, well, he looks like he’s confident I’m going to agree.
I don’t think I’ve ever liked an idea less than this one. But we’ve been chasing this story for weeks now, and this is the first real lead we’ve had.
“I, uh…”
Lois’s eyes narrow. If she had heat vision, I’d be a pile of ashes right now.
“Don’t say it, Clark.”
I grimace and back up a step. And she shakes her head, because she knows what I’m thinking.
“Ah, I—”
“Clark!”
“Lois, it’s the only lead we’ve got. It’ll be fine, I promise. Trust me?”
She’s so mad, she can’t even respond. She throws her hands up in the air and storms out, and I flinch as the door slams shut behind her.
Then I let out a long breath and look up at Perry. “When do I start?”
***
The Body Shop. God, what have I gotten myself into?
The back door is unlocked, and I let myself in. I’m immediately met by a young woman, who takes my “name”—Charlie King—and with a wink that somehow travels my whole body, she turns and leads me to a tiny dressing room.
I’m a little surprised that there are really no…auditions or anything. But Perry said he knew someone who knew someone, and somehow, I guess I was just…put on their “roster.”
“You’re third up tonight. Costume’s on the rack.”
“Got it,” I say. And it’s not until I shut the door and turn around that I truly understand how bad this idea really, really is.
***
Yeah, it’s about as bad as I thought.
The same woman who brought me into the dressing room knocks on my door not five minutes later and yells, “You’re up!”
And I…try. Nerves of steel? Nope.
She knocks again, yells something else that contains a few expletives, and then pushes the door open. Her eyes widen with a hungry look as she sees me.
“Ohhhhhh, yeah, that’ll do,” she says with another wink. “Almost better than the real thing. Come on.”
I’m going to die of embarrassment.
Or something like that.
Over the din of the music—god, they’re really playing “I’m Too Sexy”—I can somehow hear a very familiar heartbeat, and I nearly blow my cover right there, even as this woman is grabbing my arm to push me past other half-naked men and staff members.
What is she doing here?
I look through the walls, out to the main room, ignoring the nausea as I see the packed room, everyone’s eyes glued to the stage where I suppose I’ll be “dancing” any minute now. And there she is. Sitting right in the front row. Wearing some terrible blonde wig that looks about as fake as the costume I’m wearing right now.
She’s got a martini and a bunch of dollar bills.
God.
She’s gonna kill me. I mean, if I were vulnerable.
“What’s the matter, got stage fright? You’re on, big boy!” The woman pushes open the door just as a new song starts—“Pour Some Sugar on Me”… God, nope, I’m not living this down,
ever—and then she shoves me out there.
***
It’s worse than I thought.
I should have listened to my wife. And she knows it. Whenever my eyes catch hers, I can’t tell if she’s laughing at me or if she’s still angry. She’s definitely…possessive. Security almost threatens to remove her the first time she shoves another woman out of the way when I get a little too close to the edge of the stage. And I’m trying to tune out everything and just, uh, “dance” while I scan the room, but all the catcalls and cheering and…leering make it all really, really difficult.
Just as the last verse begins, I finally see who I’m looking for, and I dance toward Lois, moving as best I can with the music. God, this spandex is itchy, which is saying a lot since my skin is invulnerable. And the cape isn’t nearly long enough to cover…me.
When I reach just in front of Lois, she’s looking at me differently. A look I definitely recognize. And I have to shake myself to remember where we’re at.
I do some move that’s supposed to look sexy or something, and she’s cheering along with the rest of the crowd as she reaches up and stuffs a few dollar bills in the “belt” of my costume. Good cover, I suppose. I lean over closer.
“Back table, closest to the bar.”
She nods, and before I can straighten up, she stuffs another couple of dollars in my belt. And the music ends.
***
“Here’s to Lane and Kent! Hottest team in town! Another front-page scoop, and another criminal behind bars!”
With a huge grin on his face, Perry holds up the morning’s edition, and the newsroom erupts in cheers. That should be the end of it.
But I’m not that lucky.
I get plenty of shoulder pats and a few handshakes from my colleagues. Then Ralph walks up, the sneer on his face at least a mile wide.
“Congrats, you two!” he says, raising both eyebrows in tandem as he looks from me to Lois. He steps a little closer to me and prods me with his elbow. “Heard there was a ‘super’ performance!”
“Shut up, Ralph,” Lois says, and she grabs my arm and starts dragging me toward her desk. “Come on, Clark. We’ve got work to do.”
Ralph is unfazed as he follows behind us. “Wish I’d been there to see it,” he continues. “You know, to, uh,
learn from the best of the best.”
I groan, but my cheeks are hot, and I can feel Lois about to explode. “Ralph…” I warn. But he keeps going.
“I’ve always wanted to see how you top investigative reporters work, you know, to…
uncover the
bare truth.”
He laughs at his own joke, and Lois
snaps. She spins around and starts laying into him with words I didn’t even know were in her vocabulary.
And I just stand back and watch.
I should probably stop her. I should probably step in, make sure no one gets hurt. Or, uh, make sure Ralph doesn’t get hurt.
But I don’t.
Nope.
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