Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic The Ruse, Ch. 2/?

A/N: Thank you for the kind feedback so far! Here's chapter 2.

"I'm sorry again, Clark. Sharing a hotel room is one thing – it isn't ideal but we've done that before. But the bed is a whole different situation."

Lois had gotten the reservations too late, and the hotel was already full for the reunion. The only room available had been a junior suite with a king-sized bed, which only "appeared" in the system after she mentioned who she was.

"There's a sofa, Lois," he says, gesturing to the settee in the living room. "I'll be fine."

"It's tiny. It doesn't even pull out into a bed. I can't ask you to sleep there," she says, frowning at the offending furniture. He took off work, took the whole weekend off for her and even lied to Perry to be here. Really, he deserves so much better.

"Well I'm not letting you sleep there. I've slept on much worse. Hammocks, dirt floors, an actual jungle. Trust me, I can sleep anywhere. This is a comfortable sofa. I can make it up into a bed. I'll be very comfortable Lois, I promise." He busies himself about the room, setting her suitcase on the luggage rack, then tucking his duffel bag next to the sofa.

It's a big bed, how about we share? Her mind taunts in reply. This prospect feels more full of potential and totally out of bounds than ever. There is little doubt in her mind where it would lead, and it would change everything. Their cozy relationship is stretching the definition of platonic as it is. Lately, she seemed to find any excuse in the world to touch him throughout the day. Her coworker Julia told her last week that the whole newsroom thought they were already an item. And since then, she'd wondered, were they already effectively a couple? She'd turned down two blind dates in the last two months. "I'm swamped with work," she'd lamented. "I wouldn't have time for anyone right now."

In reality, she and Clark spent most evenings together, either under the guise of working on a story or grabbing a bite after working late. One of them called the other nearly every evening before bed, at which point they would make a plan for breakfast, and sometimes watch the late night talk shows together, by phone. Early on, there was always an excuse for those, too - a note on a story, or a meeting they needed to set up the next day. But lately these nightly calls had become part of their routine, free of pretense. As had their breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Essentially the only time she wasn't with Clark was when they were asleep, and even then...

...No, she feels certain that she cannot be alone in a bed with Clark right now. It just isn't an option, especially not when she feels like they are so precariously perched on the precipice of something more. But she can't say she doesn't wish the universe intervene here, causing the sofa to suffer some catastrophic collapse before tonight.

She frowns, watching him act like her bellboy and lamenting that she can't even show her gratitude with suitable sleeping conditions, let alone the salacious other ways that seem to be permeating her thoughts on the daily these days. God, she really needs to just tell him.

"You're probably already regretting coming. It's really okay if you want to bail, you know," she says, her voice affecting a breezy non-chalance. She doesn't want him to, and she knows he won't, but she needs to say this, and needs to hear him say he would never.

He looks up at her from unzipping his garment bag and meets her gaze with a slow shake of his head. "Not a chance," he replies. His voice rumbles through her like velvet, warm and low and sincere.

Something unspoken and tender passes between them, and then he breaks, grasping for a subject change. "It looked like the welcome reception was already getting going; let's get freshened up and head downstairs?"

She nods, suddenly feeling shy, and terribly nervous. Why are you nervous?   She thinks. It's Clark, for goodness sakes. "Okay…give me just a minute."

Lois is surprisingly nervous this afternoon, and he's wondering if there's something about this reunion she isn't telling him. An ex-flame she's worried about running into maybe? He helps her narrow down her outfit choices, nudging her toward the option of a feminine, fitted burgundy sleeveless sheath dress over the more professional suit that she was leaning toward. He realizes in that moment that her professional attire is her armor of confidence.

"Are you decent?" Lois pokes her head out of the bedroom before waiting to hear the answer. "I could use a hand."

Clark's shirt is still unbuttoned, but his pants are on. Lois drinks him in with her eyes, hardly trying to conceal it.

"I'm...basically decent," he smiles. She nods in full, appreciative agreement, which does nothing to defuse his intense attraction to her. "And of course I can help, what do you need?"

"One reason I was resisting this dress is because she is an absolute beast to get into. It's the worst ever zipper, especially for a dress this expensive. And I have this necklace I need some help with. Do you mind?"

Clark's mind is short-circuiting; unfortunately his desire for her is one thing that always feels entirely human. He begins working on the zipper, trying to keep his eyes and his mind off the black lace from her underwear peeking through. "Of course not. So, what's our story?"

"Hmm? What story? Perry gave us the weekend off, remember?"

Of course he remembers; even with two weeks' notice, he gave Clark a hard time about taking the entire weekend off when Lois was going to be gone too. He and Lois decided that Clark would make the excuse that he needed to go home and be with his parents to deal with some private family business. "Hell's bells, what am I going to do without my two best reporters if something huge breaks?" he'd grumbled. He and Lois had both decided that it was cleaner to lie about his true whereabouts, to avoid becoming fodder for the newsroom gossip mill. And neither of them were entirely sure that the true reason would actually get Clark off the hook for three days.

"No - I mean, how long have we been dating? How did we meet? First date? We should probably have some stock answers ready in case people ask."

"Oh, right," she says. "How about, we met at work, we were partners first. One morning out of the blue, at the...coffee station? you asked me on a date and here we are. We've been dating, I don't know, what do you think? Four months?"

"Sure, that works. Gosh, this zipper really is finicky," he grumbles. "Where did we go on a first date?"

"Hmmm…a movie?"

He leans into her ear and says, in almost a whisper, "I'd never take you to a movie for our first date, Lois." He returns to the zipper. "I took you to Jean-Luc. You refused to order death by chocolate cake, but then ate all of mine. Then we went dancing at the Starlite Inn. They had a jazz band playing standards."

"Mmmm…it was the best date of my life," she says wistfully. "But when you walked me home, I got so nervous about kissing you that I…I slammed the door in your face," she says, laughing at her own imagined insecurity. Was this pretend? "But then I opened it, and apologized. And the rest is history."

"Like...this...zipper...there," he says, triumphant.

"Nice work, Kent," she says over her shoulder.

"Why thank you, Miss Lane. Now I've just got these two microscopic buttons left to do. Is there a reason they need to be this tiny?"

"No, and even though I have lots of practice, I can't say it gets any easier getting into these kinds of dresses alone," she laughs.

"Not sure I'm proving to be your best option, but I'm here for all your crazy zippers and microscopic button needs, any time," he says, and he's immediately certain it has to be the lamest thing that's ever come out of his mouth. Sometimes he doesn't even have to try to push her toward his alter ego.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Clark. I think even Superman would have problems with this dress."

He smiles at his own expense. "I can say with a fair amount of confidence, Lois, you're probably right about that."

"This feels so silly now that we're here," Lois says, smoothing her dress as he works, and he notes a nervous quiver in her pitch. "I know you're right, we do this all the time. It just feels a little crazy, I mean who brings a pretend boyfriend to their reunion?"

His massive fingers fumble with a loophole so tiny even his super abilities are put to the test. "Probably more people than you'd think," he says. "It's not that crazy. And I'm not some guy you just pulled off the street. Like you said, we do this all the time."

"I'm grateful I didn't have to pull a man off the street," she says quietly. "Thanks for being here, Clark."

"I wouldn't miss it," he replies. Truly, he wishes she knew just how much he loves being with her, how much he wishes this was real. Sometimes, like now, when it's just them, getting ready for an event in their hotel room together, he is content to let it feel real. The line has become so blurred between them, he can't make sense of where they stand. And would asking her on a date, a real date, be going backwards at this point? How does dating your best friend work, when you already spend most waking minutes together? When she has already rejected you once? It feels like it could be almost a seamless transition from here - this, but kissing her cheek after he zips her up. This, but kissing her everywhere before they join the mingling downstairs. This, but not pretend.

Or, it could implode all of it. He nearly lost her once, and that was eight months ago. He was eight months deeper into this now, and shooting his shot feels riskier than it ever has. But he's starting to feel like he could.

"Okay, finished. Necklace?" He stretches a hand over her shoulder, and she pools the necklace into his palm.

She lifts her hair up off her shoulders as he drapes the necklace around her, revealing the graceful curve of her neck, and he doesn't expect that to knock the wind out of him but it does. A headline flashes through his head: Superman Brought to His Knees by Nape of Lois Lane's Neck . He's rendered completely useless, totally distracted by the overwhelming urge to cover the arch of her soft skin in kisses. Instead, he uses a few stray hairs as the excuse to gently stroke her neck as he moves them aside, and he's guiltily aware of her hammering heart and how incredibly intimate this feels. He lets a little breath tickle her nape as he works. Fastening the tiny clasp, he adds, "And I don't think you would have had any trouble finding a man off the street."

His hands hug her shoulders, and he turns her to face him. Her expression is unguarded, genuinely invested. "You don't?"

"To pretend the most intelligent, accomplished…" he takes her hand to admire her, "and dare I add drop-dead beautiful woman in the room is your girlfriend? Yeah, it's not a tough sell." He mentally adds that staying in the same hotel room would probably get any man in a 30 block radius lined up, at which point he's actually really glad she didn't ask just any man off the street.

Her eyes dance as her face grows into a wide delighted smile, and he becomes well aware that this now is unabashed, absolute danger zone flirting. To his delight, she underscores this, laying a hand on his chest, making a show of straightening his tie.

He's emboldened to add, right into her eyes, "I'm honestly surprised you don't have a line of suitors out the door at all times," and gosh, their faces are close. So close. It feels like the beginning of a kiss, and would it be the very worst thing if he were to kiss her right here?

"Well, I don't really have time for that. And I don't want just any man off the street. I'm very choosy about such matters, you know. Because of…well, all those nice things you just said. I have to have some standards," she says, shamelessly flirting, it's really off the rails now. But this is just an extension of our newsroom banter, he thinks, but somehow it's feeling different. More intimate. Alone together in this hotel room, pulled from their regular worlds, under the guise of a ruse...it feels safer for them to be like this here, trusting fully in their magnetically charged connection.

Gazing down at her, he's sure this is something, as he returns her mischievous smile. "Oh really. What are the requirements, Miss Lane? So that I know for next time."

She bites her lip. "Hmmm…strapping, homegrown farmboy, so he's down to earth. I wouldn't want people thinking my boyfriend is pretentious. But, very well-traveled so he's interesting, and can talk to anyone. And at least one Kerth Award. Preferably his first eligible year. I only pretend date men who are my intellectual equal."

"That's a pretty specific list," he says, his smile saying a thousand things to her at once. He remains immensely grateful they aren't sharing a bed; he already isn't sure how he's going to survive tonight.

She nods slowly, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. "Yes, well, they have to be able to keep up with me," she grins, giving his tie a final tug. "Let's get this overwith." She grabs her evening bag and sees that Clark is already holding the door for her.

"And I certainly wouldn't trust any man off the street to share my hotel room. God, can you imagine?" she adds with an eyeroll over her shoulder.

Clark laughs as he shuts the door, "Probably very wise. And I'm glad to hear it, Lois."