Another hour of conversation flew by, filled with stories from Clark’s childhood, Smallville gossip, family history on the farm, and eventually stories from Martha and Jonathan’s days as Freedom Riders.
After it was clear that “one more” childhood story was going to lead to more, the foursome had moved from the kitchen table to the living room, where Lois settled comfortably against Clark’s side on the loveseat, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
Now things were winding down, and she knew they would be leaving soon, and she was both eager to be alone with him and loath to leave this spot.
They stood slowly, thanking Martha again for dinner and complimenting the pie one last time before saying their goodbyes. Clark went upstairs with his father briefly to grab something they would need for his surprise, leaving her in the living room alone with his mother.
Martha pulled her into a tight hug, and Lois hugged her back, thinking it was no wonder Clark had turned out to be such a warm, sweet man, raised in this home by this family.
“Thank you,” Lois said again, softly this time as they pulled apart. “This was so nice. I had such a wonderful time tonight.”
“We’re so glad you came,” Martha said, squeezing her arm. “You come back anytime. You’re always welcome here.”
Lois swallowed the lump in her throat, as a montage of images of her here in this home with Clark and his parents for family dinners and holidays flooded her mind.
She heard footsteps on the stairs, and turned automatically, already smiling. He smiled back at her, and her heart fluttered the way it always did when he trained that smile on her.
His arms were laden with blankets and pillows, and she raised her eyebrows questioningly. He laughed and winked at her. “Give me just a minute, and you’ll see,” he told her.
He said a final goodbye to his father, who had followed him down the stairs and kissed his mother on the cheek. Lois said goodbye to Jonathan, and was surprised and delighted when he pulled her into a warm hug.
Then she followed Clark out the front door and down the walkway to his truck, where he tossed the blankets and pillows into the bed and then opened her door for her. She leaned against the truck before climbing in, gazing up at him, and he bent his head and kissed her gently.
“I told you they would love you,” he said softly.
“They’re wonderful,” she said. “I loved them. Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, amused.
She took a deep breath and waved a hand vaguely. “For bringing me here. For introducing me to them. For…this whole weekend. For being you.”
He kissed her again, swiftly and surely. His hand went to her cheek, holding her gently as he worked his magic, making her forget entirely that they were still in the driveway of his parents’ home.
When he pulled away, she was breathless and boneless, limp against the cool metal of the truck. She took a ragged breath and let her head fall back, her gaze going to the sky above them where millions of stars twinkled.
“Wow,” she said softly. “Look at all the stars.”
“You don’t see stars like this in Metropolis,” he said knowingly, and she nodded in agreement.
“No, the only stars you ever see in Metropolis are the ones getting out of limos,” she joked. She paused for a minute, taking in the view. “It’s beautiful.”
“That’s what I wanted to show you,” he said, tilting his head toward the bed of his truck where the blankets and pillows waited. “I thought we could go out by the pond. It’s even darker back there.”
He looked at her, waiting for her approval, and she nodded eagerly. “That sounds wonderful,” she said.
He kissed her again quickly, then stepped back, still holding her door, and she climbed in her seat. He came around to the side and climbed in, reaching immediately for her hand. He backed halfway down the driveway, then put the truck back in drive and turned off onto a dirt road that wound past the far side of the barn. They bumped gently along in silence, rows of corn on their right, open pasture fields to the left. In the rearview, the house grew smaller and smaller, until finally Clark pulled off the road and parked, the silence echoing in her ears as he cut the engine. He clicked off the headlights, and Lois blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
He reached across her lap, popping open the glovebox and pulling out a flashlight. “Wait for me,” he said. “It’s dark out there.”
She nodded, and he climbed out his door and flicked on the light, coming around the truck to meet her. He opened her door, and she slid out beside him.
He handed her the flashlight, then took a few steps and reached into the bed, retrieving the blankets and pillows. They walked a few yards away, and she trained the light on the ground while he laid out the blankets and pillows, making a welcoming little nest for them in the soft prairie grass.
He sat and held out a hand to her, and she came to join him on the blanket. He took the flashlight, and clicked it off, then reclined against the pillows, and she laid down next to him, her heart racing at his nearness, at the intimacy of lying beside him like this under stars.
His hand found hers, lacing them together, and she felt as if her heart would explode out of her chest. She took a couple slow breaths, trying to calm her heart, and focused her gaze on the stars. They seemed so endless in the dark night sky.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said.
“There’s Cassiopeia and Andromeda,” he said, pointing to the northeast.
“Where?” she said, shaking her head. “What am I looking for?”
“Cassiopeia stretches out across the sky. Five bright stars in a zigzag. Almost like a stretched out W.”
He traced the pattern with his finger, and she followed the movement, seeing it come together. She smiled. “I see it!”
He chuckled happily. “Ok, look at the second star in Cassiopeia, then move right. See that star? That’s Andromeda’s foot. There are three pairs of stars running parallel and then one at the top connecting the two lines.”
She smiled as it came into view. “I see it,” she said again.
“Do you know the story of Cassiopeia and Andromeda?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“Cassiopeia was queen of Ethiopia and Andromeda's mother. When she boasted that Andromeda was more beautiful than the Nereids – the sea nymphs – Poseidon punished her by flooding the coast and sending a sea monster to ravage their kingdom. Poseidon promised to continue this punishment until Andromeda was sacrificed to him, so her father, King Cepheus, ordered her chained to a cliff as a sacrifice.”
“Wow, and I thought my dad was a jerk,” she said lightly.
Clark laughed. “It gets better. Perseus just happened to be flying by on his winged sandals, carrying the head of Medusa, whom he had just slain. He saw Andromeda chained to the rocks and fell madly in love. He killed the sea monster, convinced her father to let him marry her, and they lived happily ever after. Well, as happily as any Greek heroes can live. First he had to use Medusa’s head to kill the rival who had previously been promised her hand in marriage and a slew of his supporters.”
“Naturally,” she said.
“They went on to have seven sons and two daughters, and their descendents ruled all over the region. After their death, Athena placed them both in the stars along with her parents, where they could spend eternity together. The Perseus and Cepheus constellations are up there with them too, but I can’t pick them out.”
“Well, that’s a much happier story than many of the Greek myths,” she said.
He hummed in agreement and then pointed again. “See that blurry star in the middle of Andromeda? It looks bigger and fuzzy?”
“Mmhmm,” she said, finding it as he described.
“That’s the Andromeda galaxy. That’s the closest spiral galaxy like ours. It looks like a single star to the naked eye, but it’s a whole galaxy. There are a trillion stars in that galaxy.”
“A trillion?” she asked, stressing the beginning of the word.
“Yeah,” he said. “And that’s just one galaxy. There are a hundred billion galaxies out there. That we know of.”
“How do you know all this?” she asked softly.
He was quiet for a minute. “I spent a lot of time out here when I was younger. Studying the stars.”
“It makes our world feel so small,” she said. “The vastness of the universe. It’s easy to forget and believe we’re all there is. That the world revolves around us. But there’s so much out there that we don’t even know about.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “We can’t even begin to imagine everything that could be out there.”
“Do you think…” she trailed off, unsure if she wanted to finish that question. He turned his head to look at her, waiting. “Do you think there’s life out there? It’s just…the universe is so big. It feels so conceited to believe that in all those galaxies, on all those planets around all those stars…there wasn’t any other planet that sustained life.”
He was quiet for a minute, and she wondered if he thought she was crazy. If he would think it was a stupid thing to say.
“I’m sure you’re right,” he said softly, and she could feel his hesitation, as if there was more he wanted to say.
She rolled toward him, and reached up to stroke his cheek. He smiled at her, and she tugged gently on his neck, pulling him closer. His lips brushed hers, and her heart leapt.
He pulled back and propped himself up on his elbow, studying her. “What do you think they’re like?” he asked. “If there is life out there. Intelligent life. What…do you think they’re like?”
His face was so serious, almost worried, and she ached for him, though she wasn’t sure why. She stroked his cheek again, then ran her hand down his arm, letting it rest there.
“I think they’re…like us,” she said softly. “I mean, I don’t know what they look like, or how they communicate. I imagine their environment would shape those things. But inside…. I think life is life. I’m sure there are both good and bad individuals, but as a whole…I think life wants to be good. I think we all just want the same things. To be happy. To make a difference. To leave our world better than we found it. To love and be loved.”
He was quiet. His eyes were stormy with an emotion she couldn’t place. He opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped and closed it, as if warring with himself.
“What, Clark?” she said quietly. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that you can’t be real. That I can’t possibly be this lucky,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “My whole life, I thought…. I just can’t believe you’re real, and you’re really here with me.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Clark…” she whispered, without a clue how to finish that sentence. He made her feel so many things, and all at once.
He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, and then his lips were on hers, and she didn’t need words. His lips caressed hers gently at first, then more fervently. She sighed softly, parting her lips in invitation, and he didn’t hesitate. His tongue slipped past her lips, tasting and teasing, and her heart raced in response.
His hand slid from her cheek, his fingers tracing a gentle path down her neck to her shoulder. She shivered, trembling under his touch. He pulled his mouth from hers, and when she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with such tenderness she thought she could cry.
“Are you cold?” he asked, and the smile on his face told her he knew she wasn’t, but wanted to check just in case.
She laughed. “No,” she said, tugging on his arm until he came back to her, slanting his lips across hers, and kissing her thoroughly until she was gasping his name. One of her hands rested on the back of his neck, the other traced a path up and down his arm, feeling the hardness of the muscles under the soft flannel of his shirt.
He had abandoned her neck, resting his hand at her waist instead, his fingers flexing and caressing gently. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin, and she cursed her choice of this dress, which left him with no option to edge underneath her shirt.
His kisses were intoxicating, and she desperately wanted…something more. He was frustratingly far away from her, still propped up on his elbow beside her; so much space between them.
She breathed his name and slid her hand from his arm up over his shoulder and then down the firm planes of his back, pulling him closer. He pulled back and hesitated for just a second, then moved his hand from her waist to cup her cheek again, kissing her sweetly before rolling closer and lowering his body to hers.
She whimpered at the delicious feel of his solid weight against her. Her hands roamed his back and shoulders, savoring the feel of him. His shirt had come loose from his jeans, just starting to untuck, and she hooked a finger under the hem, pulling it free. She slid her fingers under, tracing his soft skin and he dropped his head to her shoulder, and took a ragged breath, before whispering her name. He lifted his head again and pressed his lips to her neck, right at the sensitive spot where he had made her shiver with his touch.
“Oh, god,” she breathed.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke, his breath warm against her damp skin.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered, and she smiled as she felt his laughter rumble through his chest.
He kissed her again and again, trailing hot, wet kisses across her neck and throat. She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair, urging him on, when the other still traced random patterns on the bare skin of his back.
She whispered his name, almost reverently, as if reassuring herself that he was really here. That he was really real. She planted her foot on the ground and slid it up until her knee was bent, cradling him.
He slid his hand from her waist, across her hip and then up her raised thigh until he reached her bare knee, touching skin at last, and she sighed with approval. He reversed course, his hand sliding back up under her dress until his palm was splayed fully against the outside of her thigh, his thumb stroking gently.
Her head pressed back against the pillow, arching against him, and he trailed kisses from her neck to her throat, and then lower, across the open expanse of her chest, layering kisses along the sloping neckline of her dress. For just a moment she thought he was going to reach for the buttons of her dress, but before she could decide whether she wanted him to do it, his kisses moved higher again, up the other side and into the crook of her neck.
“Clark,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire.
He lifted his head and looked at her, waiting patiently for her to tell him what she wanted. Words failed her, and instead she cradled his face in her hands and guided him back up to her, needing to feel his lips on hers again.
It was her turn to explore his mouth, hungry for more of him. He met her passion and turned it back on her, kissing her until all coherent thought was gone and time passed in a blur of the taste of his mouth and the feel of his body under the starbright sky.
Finally, slowly, he gentled their kisses and brought them back to their senses. She lay under him, one hand stroking his cheek, gazing at him with an unspeakable tenderness. He kissed her sweetly again, and then eased back, resting his weight back on his hip and laying beside her instead. He withdrew his hand from under her dress, resting it at her waist again.
Neither of them spoke. There were no words in that moment that could add to what their bodies had already said. Her gaze went to the sky, overwhelmed by her feelings, and she let herself be awed again by the beauty of the sky without the bright lights of the city to distract.
“I never knew the stars could be so beautiful,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him.
He chuckled, and she thought he was laughing at her city girl naivete, until he began to speak again, soft and quiet. “She walks in beauty, like the night/Of cloudless climes and starry skies.”
She turned her gaze on him, and saw him watching her, his eyes full of adoration, as if it were she who was as beautiful as the starry skies.
“Are you quoting poetry to me? Under the stars?” she asked, a little laugh escaping. “You are not real. I must be dreaming. There is no way you are real.”
He laughed softly and lowered his mouth to hers again, his lips soft and insistent against hers.
When he finally pulled away, he smiled down at her and stroked her cheek. “Does that feel like a dream?”
“Come true,” she whispered, and she watched as he closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself, soaking in her words.
When he opened his eyes again, they gazed at each other in a gentle silence for a immeasurable amount of time, until finally she shivered, from the cold this time, and he rubbed her arm to warm her and nodded, acknowledging what they both knew but were reluctant to admit: that this night was coming to an end.
“It’s late,” he whispered. “And it’s getting cold. We should go.”
“I’m not ready,” she said. “I don’t want this to be over.”
“It’s not over,” he whispered, kissing her quickly. “It’s just the beginning. I’ll bring you back here. I’ll kiss you under the stars again.”
She reached for him, cradling his face in both her hands, and pulled him down for one more kiss. And though he had said it was time to go, he took his time, and she savored every moment in his arms.
*****
Lois woke early the next morning, despite their late night. She glanced at the clock, confirming it was still before eight, leaving her four hours before they had to leave for the airport, then closed her eyes and let herself drift back to the previous evening.
It all felt like a fairy tale. From the cheerful, perfect family dinner to the dizzying kisses under the stars, the whole night felt magical.
Once they finally dragged themselves from their stargazing nest, they made the short ride back to Clark’s in a comfortable silence. She could only assume he was as moved and overwhelmed as she was, and they needed that quiet ride back to sort out their feelings and douse their desire.
By the time they were back at his house, her passion had cooled, but she wasn’t ready to be finished with their evening, especially knowing that the rest of her visit was now being measured in hours. She wasn’t sure whether he read that reluctance on her face, or if he was just feeling the same way, but once they were back inside he suggested a movie and cup of tea, and she was all too eager to agree.
They had changed into their pajamas and cuddled on the couch, pretending to watch an old movie he found on a cable channel. In reality, she had been listening to his heartbeat, memorizing the feel of his chest under her cheek, soaking in every second of their time together before she had to leave him.
Eventually the long day and all the excitement had caught up with her, and she felt her eyelids growing heavy. She slid down until she was laying, curled on her side, her head in his lap. He stroked her hair gently, his fingers sifting through the strands, letting them fall back against her cheek, while she half listened to the movie play in the background, perfectly, utterly, content.
The next thing she knew, the room was dark and quiet, and Clark was easing gently out from under her. He crouched beside her, stroking her cheek until her eyelids stopped fluttering and stayed open.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“How long was I asleep?” she asked.
“About an hour,” he said with a smile. “The movie ended a while ago, but I didn’t want to move you.”
She stretched lazily, uninterested in moving from her spot. She rolled to her back and draped an arm over her eyes. He rubbed her stomach gently, his touch somehow both soothing and electrifying.
“Come on,” he said. “Sit up. Time for bed.”
“I don’t think I can move,” she whined playfully.
“All right,” he said. And then he was sliding his arms under her, cradling her to his chest, and standing.
“Clark,” she said, alarmed, as she looked around. Her eyes landed on his face, and she couldn’t help but smile at his sweet expression.
“Shh,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
And he did. He crossed the living room and climbed the stairs slowly and deliberately, without any rush. She gave up her ineffective protest and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. She sighed contentedly, marveling at the way he carried her so easily, without any effort at all.
At the top of the stairs, he stopped at the doorway to her room, holding her for just one more minute, before easing her legs to the floor.
“There you go,” he said. “Door to door service.”
She leaned back against the door frame and gazed up at him, sliding one hand down from his neck to his chest, where her fingers stroked lazily. His hands rested on her hips, and she could see in his eyes that he was just about to withdraw them and say goodnight. She tugged at his neck instead, stopping his retreat, and his lips were on hers instantly.
These kisses were soft and gentle, meant to soothe and comfort not entice or excite. When he pulled away, she stroked his cheek and thanked him again for a perfect evening. And he looked at her with wonder, as if he truly couldn’t believe she was thanking him. He kissed her one last time, and then she slipped into the room, leaning her back against the door for the longest time while she attempted to make sense of this night and this weekend and what it meant for her future.
Finally she crawled into bed and fell immediately into a dreamless slumber.
And now she was awake, but still reluctant to climb out from under her warm quilt. Once she got up, it was going to be time to shower and get dressed and pack and have a final meal together and then leave for the airport. Then the weekend would be over and it would be back to real life.
Real life.
Her eyes flew open. Luthor. The Boss.
She had shoved all thoughts of Luthor and this breakthrough aside last night. There was nothing she could do about it from Smallville, with all her files and research back in Metropolis. But now she was just hours away from being back home. She could drop her suitcase off at home, pick up her Jeep, and head straight to the newsroom. She could start digging for the connection she knew would be there if she looked hard enough.
She threw back the covers and stood, listening quietly for a moment and hearing no movement. She crossed the room and opened the bedroom door. His door was still shut, and she realized he must still be sleeping. She smiled, imagining him asleep in his bed.
She pulled the door shut and headed for the bathroom instead, showering quickly and towel drying her hair, before slipping on jeans and a simple burgundy top. She was returning to the bathroom to hang her towel, when she spotted her work bag, left abandoned beside her suitcase where she had dropped it on Thursday evening. She hadn’t touched it all weekend – hadn’t even thought about it – and she had almost forgotten she had even brought it. She hung the towel quickly, and snagged the bag, setting it on the bed so she could rifle through the contents. Her laptop and a couple of files – one with background on the latest target of the Toasters and one with the financial files Jimmy had finally dug up on the second-to-last target.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. But before she could do anything, she needed coffee.
She opened her door and saw his was still shut, so she walked as lightly as possible down the stairs in an effort to let him sleep. In the kitchen, she brewed a pot of coffee, waiting impatiently for it to finish so she could fix herself a cup. Then she made herself at home at the kitchen table, spreading out her research.
She scanned the background info on TelTech Labs first. They were the latest victim, their headquarters having burnt down just last week.
It took her only minutes to see it. CEO Joshua Lambeth. Lambeth had been a managing director at LexLabs before it was shuttered. This was no smoking gun. It made sense other local labs had snapped up top tier scientists and researchers when they became available. But it was a link she wouldn’t have seen a week ago.
She opened a new file on her computer and typed in his name, along with a series of questions she needed answered – What was his connection to Luthor? Was there bad blood between them? Had they had any contact since Luthor’s arrest?
Back and forth she went. Scanning the printouts, underline and highlighting, then typing up follow up questions in her file. She was so engrossed, she didn’t hear him come down the stairs, or enter the kitchen.
She felt him watching her before she heard him. She looked up, and found him standing in the entrance to the kitchen, gazing at her, eyes full of longing.
“Hey,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. I…” She waved a hand at the mess she had spread all over his table.
He smiled and shook his head. “I told you to make yourself at home.”
He didn’t move though, didn’t come into the kitchen and join her at the table or make himself a cup of coffee.
“What?” she asked finally.
He shook his head, and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I didn’t even know this was a fantasy of mine. You. Wet hair and barefoot at my kitchen table immersed in your work. But…you’re so beautiful. And you look….so right here.”
Her chest constricted. She heard what he was telling her. What he wanted. The future he was seeing. And in that moment, she wanted it desperately too.
She whispered his name, and he crossed the room to her, pulling out the chair beside her to sit, and then leaning forward and kissing her.
When he pulled away, she took a few breaths to steady herself as she watched him survey the papers covering his table.
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m not sure what it means. But the CEO of this lab used to work for LexLabs. And nothing about these Jameson Industries financials jumps out at me as being Luthor-related, but they’re also making monthly payments to Intergang. So I’m not sure if that’s a coincidence, or if there’s a Luthor/Intergang connection that I’ve been missing.”
“You think they’re his arm on the outside?” he asked.
She grimaced and equivocated for a second. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “That seems unlikely. But maybe? Maybe if he was desperate enough? Maybe if there was something in it for each of them? He retains control, they get rich? I only have a couple files here. I should be able to get a better picture once I go through everything I have on each of the arson victims.”
He stood and walked to the coffee pot, fixing himself a cup, and leaning against the counter to watch her.
She started to gather her papers, organizing them into stacks and placing them back in their folders.
“You don’t have to do that just because I’m awake,” he said. “I know how important this is to you. I can entertain myself while you work.”
She shook her head immediately, putting the files back in her bag. “I’ll be home tonight. I’ll have plenty of time to work on this. We only have a few hours left. I don’t want to spend them working.”
It was a shocking thing for her to say. Even more shocking because she meant it.
He sat back beside her, his coffee mug cradled in his hand. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
Suddenly she was starving. She nodded.
“Do you want to walk down to Maisie’s? Or do you want me to cook for you?”
There was no question about it, of course. Once he offered to cook for her, she had to see if this perfect man could also cook. And he could. He made her bacon and scrambled eggs fresh from the farm, and his mother’s French toast recipe that melted in her mouth and put to shame anything she had ever eaten at a trendy Metropolis brunch spot.
