I hesitate as I grip the Superman costume, rubbing the smooth, stretchy spandex between my fingers. On the one hand, Clark might get upset about me trying to turn him into the guy I spent all of last year chasing after. He always seemed a little put out whenever I compared him to Superman, and rightly so: my assessments of him back then weren't very kind.
On the other hand, Clark has definitely been my hero in many ways, whether it's backing me up as I storm the fortresses or just being there for me when I can't fight anymore. Also, if I'm truly honest with myself, a lot of the qualities that draw—that *drew* me to Superman are also present in Clark Kent: his compassion, his strong morals, his willingness to put himself on the line for others. But Superman was always just a fantasy; I can admit that now. Clark is someone I can actually picture spending the day with, talking about whatever's on our minds and either working together or just hanging out. In a way, Clark is my Superman, but with the added bonus of being real.
I smile and tug the costume off the rack. The Wonder Woman costume makes me pause again. Diana of Themyscara has only visited this country a couple times, as far as anyone knows, and I think she worked with Superman maybe once on a major rescue operation. Somehow, that was enough for the tabloids to start linking them together—and the costume makers, apparently.
It's a little bit weird to think about what kind of person Superman would or should be dating. Of course, once upon a time I was certain it should be me, but now that I'm past that and able to think about him more objectively...is something like that even possible for him? Would he be able to make the time to cultivate a relationship with someone, if she were the right person? It would probably be discouraging to have to constantly cancel dates or have them interrupted because of a disaster happening half-way around the globe. He would need someone who could handle that, not to mention someone understanding enough to be there for him when the rescues that pull him away from her go wrong. Could a warrior princess be that for him? Could anyone?
The thought re-enters my mind that I could, but I shake it away. I gave Superman his chance months ago, and he made his feelings perfectly clear. It's in the past, now, and I've moved on. I'm over him. In fact, I'm over him enough to go out with someone else, dressed in costumes that poke gentle fun at a celebrity couple. If he is dating Wonder Woman, I hope they're happy together. I throw back my shoulders and take the costumes to the check-out.
**********
Clark opens his door, stands back, and slowly looks me over. The Wonder Woman costume definitely shows of a lot of skin. He lets out a low whistle and smiles at me. “Better than the real thing!”
I try to ignore the warmth spreading through my cheeks, but it isn't easy. “Okay, okay, eyes back inside your head!” I hand him the box with his own costume in it.
Clark's eyes are still fixed on me, but he takes the box from my hands. The appreciative smile becomes a grin. “So, what do I get to be? Did you find a fake military uniform or something?”
I stare at him, trying to understand the logic behind his guess. “A what?”
“Oh! Right.” Clark shuffles awkwardly and finally looks down at the box. “So, are we going with a superhero theme, then? Am I going to be Bat—” He lifts the lid and stares down at the costume inside.
“It's a superhero theme, yeah.”
Clark continues to stare into the box, unmoving, so I take out the costume and hold it up for him to see.
“I just thought it would be a little fun,” I say. “Besides, you and Superman actually have a lot in common.”
He squirms, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Um, Lois...I can't wear this.”
“Of course you can!” I smile, holding the costume up to his shoulders to show how it will look. “You're a really fit guy, Clark, and I made sure to get your size, so...” Something isn't right. I trail off, studying the material draped over Clark's chest. His nervous expression is as much unlike Superman as his glasses and unruly hair, but the eyes...the skin tone... My heart starts thudding even before the puzzle completes itself in my head.
“Lois?”
I take a step back, still holding the costume against him with one hand. “It can't be...”
“Lois...” A number of emotions twist across his face, and I can't really identify any of them.
Clark is Superman. Clark is the man I practically worshiped for the first few months after he came to Metropolis. Superman is the man I stole a story from and complained about being partnered with. Clark is the one who saved my life, countless times. Superman has been editing my copy and adding a personal touch to our stories. Clark is the man who flew out of my window, telling me that he didn't believe I'd still love him if he were just an ordinary man... And Superman is the one I rejected in the park shortly before that, telling him I could only care about him as a friend.
I'm not sure when exactly I wound up sitting on Clark's couch. Apparently, he's been talking this entire time, but I haven't heard a word. “—tell you eventually, but definitely not now or like this.” He sits down next to me and tentatively reaches for my shoulder. “Lois?”
I shake my head and force myself to look at him.
The worry is clear on his face. “Please say something.”
“You...” It's all I manage to get out. So many questions, accusations, apologies all log-jam together in my throat. It's too much to take in.
Clark sighs and rises to his feet. “How about I make us some tea?”
A few minutes later, we're sitting on opposite ends of his couch, sipping from steaming mugs of oolong. My plastic tiara is resting on the coffee table. I wish I could change out of this outfit; briefly, I'd thought about borrowing something from Clark to change into, but at the moment, wearing his clothing just feels like too much.
Clark breaks the silence. “Again, I'm sorry for deceiving you. I really was hoping to tell you, eventually.”
“When?” I look up at him, studying his face. His glasses are on the table next to the tiara, a costume accessory next to another costume accessory. It's amazing how different he looks without them; not quite like Clark, but not really Superman either.
He fidgets for a moment, reaching up as if to adjust the glasses no longer on his face. His hand drifts back down to cradle his cup of tea, and he takes another sip. “When I knew for sure that you loved me.” His words are barely audible.
I set my own cup down and turn to face him. “The fact that I'm your best friend isn't enough of a reason?”
He stares into his tea. “Maybe it should have been. But...I was hoping for more.”
The “was” sends a pang through my heart, but I shove that aside for now. “Right, hoping to know that I loved you. As if my constant chasing after you and swooning over you last year wasn't any proof.”
He finally looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine. “Lois, I'm not Superman.” What the—? Is he seriously trying to take it back?! Before I can form any words, he continues. “I'm Clark. Superman is a costume, just like the one you're wearing. He's...a character, if anything; a role I play when people need help. But I'm just Clark Kent, from Smallville.”
“An ordinary man.” I turn away and find myself staring at one of his bookshelves. It's littered with mementos: school trophies, souvenirs from his travels, photos of himself and his parents. “Living an ordinary life.”
He winces. “Yes.”
It's still difficult to process all of this, but it's clear that there's something he needs to understand if there's ever going to be an us:
I Do Love the Ordinary Man Clark Is Not So Ordinary 
