Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic The Costume Party: A Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

The cowboy costume is decent enough, but there is no way I'm stuffing myself into that “Sexy Cowgirl” rag—especially since that idiot Ralph will probably be around to comment. Luckily, denim and flannel items are easy to find elsewhere. The Western-style boots and hat are harder to track down, but not by much, and then a quick trip to the hardware store turns up a length of rope for my lasso. Yee-ha, Partner!

When Clark opens his door, his eyes pop out of his head as if I *were* wearing the “sexy” version. “Lois! You look...” He swallows. “Great! You look great!” Something about his intense stare makes my own throat go dry.

I step into his apartment and hold out the box with his outfit in it. “Well, don't just stand there, Partner. Saddle up and let's hit the trail!”

He shakes his head with a laugh, takes the box, and disappears into his bedroom. In less time than is remotely fair, he's back, and he looks amazing. It's strange; I've seen Clark in jeans and a flannel shirt before. This shouldn't be anything new. But...I guess I just never let myself *look*. The way his broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the shirt, the hug of the jeans...even the cheaply-made hat and fake chaps make him look like something out of a Western Romance.

His eyes meet mine, and it's obvious he's caught me staring. What exactly is the protocol for this, now? Do I turn away and pretend to be oblivious to him, like I would have done just a few months ago? Or does our almost-dating status grant me the right to gawk at him like a hormonal teenager?

The clock saves me from having to think about it. “We...uh...better get going.”

“Right.” He opens the door for us, looking as flustered as I feel. “We should...right."

**********

By the time we arrive at the Planet, my heart is practically a jackhammer. I keep trying to remind myself that this is just Clark. Clark in a cheap hat. And we're going to a work function.

Together.

In matching costumes.

As soon as we enter the room, a football-player in a purple tee-shirt jogs up to us with a pogo-stick under his arm and a squirt-pistol holstered at his belt. “Lois! CK! You made it!” Jimmy grins under the helmet. “Nice costumes, Cow-pokes.”

Clark tips his hat. “Thanks! Um...yours is...interesting?”

Jimmy looks to me, as if he somehow expects me to enlighten Clark about this bizarre athlete. My blank look must be the same as Clark's, because Jimmy sighs. “Come on, guys, don't you ever play videogames?” He holds the pogo-stick aloft. “Commander Keen! I bounce around, fighting alien invaders! It's awesome!”

Clark looks at me, his eyebrows raised slightly. I only shrug.

“I'll make you some copies of my disks.” Jimmy tucks the pogo back under his arm and heads towards the punch bowl, where some of the girls from research have gathered.

Clark takes my hand, the cheap hat doing nothing to mitigate the dizzying effect of his smile. “Care to dance?”

I sternly remind the butterflies in my stomach that I've danced with this man before. “Sure!”

We make our way to the space that's been cleared to make a dance floor. A live band is playing, and quite a few couples are already swaying together. As more attendees start filling up the room, the music transitions to a line-dance.

I keep looking back at Clark, whose fake chaps stubbornly refuse to make him less sexy as he easily moves with the music, and after a while, all I can think about is that trip to Smallville. His surprise that I could Tush-Push. My surprise that his parents had a fax machine. That fun day at the Corn Festival, enjoying each other's company. That frightening encounter with Trask, ranting about alien invaders. Finding out so much about the people and the town that made Clark who he was. Nearly losing him to a madman.

At some point, Clark's grin starts to fade. He gently pulls me aside, away from the crowd of dancers, and looks at me with concern. “Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah.” I swallow. “Just...thinking, I guess.”

“About what?”

So many thoughts are swirling through my head now that it's hard to even say. But, I guess if there's one thing that predominates, it's...


The Corn Festival

The Close Call with Jason Trask

The princess gown looks a lot like the dress I wore to prom, and it comes with that cone...hat...thing with the strip of fabric hanging from the top. Did real princesses ever actually wear those? There's also a sparkly star-topped wand, since whoever designed this costume apparently got princesses confused with fairies.

Clark's eyebrows rise when I show up at his door, and he waves me into the apartment with a dramatic bow. “Milady.”

I roll my eyes a little and turn to hand him the plastic armor. His infectious grin coaxes a smile out of me as well. “Good Sir Knight. Care to armor up so we can get a move on?”

He slips the helmet onto his head and throws me a salute. “Verily, it shall be an honor to escort such a beautiful maiden to the Planet of Daily!”

“Oh, knock it off,” I scold, but it's hard to sound stern when laughing so hard.

**********

My gallant knight and I arrive at the ball, where Perry is dressed as The King—Elvis, that is. Jimmy's costume is a little harder for me to figure out: coveralls, a fake mustache, and a bright red hat. He reaches us before Perry does and grins up at us. “Mama mia! It's-a Princess Lois and Sir CK!”

Clark raises the helmet's visor and returns his smile. “Hey, Jimmy. Um, what exactly are you supposed to be?”

“What, seriously?” Jimmy blinks at us. “It's-a Me: Mario! The plumber who fights monsters and rescues the princess of the Mushroom Kingdom! You guys really need to play more videogames.”

Perry hands Jimmy an empty cup. “Jimmy, why don't you plumb me up some more punch and then see if you can rescue the secretary pool from Ralph?” Jimmy scampers off, and Perry smiles at us. “Lois. Clark. Glad you two could make it. Mr. Stern wants this shindig to be bigger than Elvis's first Vegas concert; it'd be hard to pull that off if our top reporting team were no-shows.”

It always feels good when Perry calls me the top reporter, but I try not to let it show too much. The fact that I now technically share the title with Clark doesn't bother me as much as I once thought it would.

Clark beams. “Wouldn't miss it for the world, Chief!”

Perry excuses himself, and we make our way to the dance floor. A live band is playing, and we join several other coup—*pairs of people*— in swaying to the music. I really need to think about something other than our relationship status; Jimmy's costume comes to mind. “A plumber who rescues a mushroom princess, huh? Is it just me, or are videogames very weird?”

Clark laughs. “Well, no weirder than fairy-tales are, I guess. Let's see; there was the one where a frog turns back into a prince by being thrown against the wall...”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh? I thought it was from being kissed.”

“Nope.” He gives me a little spin, and then I'm back in his arms. “In the original version, the princess has enough of his shenanigans and throws him clear across the room. Slap! Poof! And suddenly he's a prince again.”

I can't help but laugh. “Now that sounds more like my kind of story!”

Clark seems lost in thought. “Then you've got your classic glass slippers and pumpkin coaches that are only good until midnight...”

The corners of my mouth twitch. “A talking mirror that rats out seven short miners, and poison cured by kissing.”

His eyes seem to dance, and I find myself grateful that the visor on his helmet is still up. “How about living with a beast who's very touchy about his roses?”

“Fairy-tale princesses seem to have odd lives, don't they?” Then again, I'm one to talk. My life wasn't exactly hum-drum even before Superman flew into it.

Clark's grin broadens. “Apparently so, at least when they're not locked up in towers.”

We're quiet for a while, just moving with the music. “That was almost my life,” I murmur half to myself.

He looks at me in confusion. “What?”

“Being locked in a tower.” I look up into his eyes. “I've been doing a lot of thinking, ever since...Lex.”

His face clouds over at that name, and I don't blame him.

I take a deep breath, the memories making me shudder. “I've had a lot of time to reflect on things that I didn't notice in the moment: little things, like how every date was in his territory, surrounded by his kind of people; never anything involving my own usual places or my own peers. At the time, I thought that was part of the appeal. After all, Prince charming on his white charger is supposed to take the maiden away to his castle, not move into the pig farm with her.”

Clark snorts.

“But then...” I shut my eyes, as if that could somehow shield me. “He completely destroyed the Planet, the job I loved, where I had made a name for myself and where I had people who respected me. He drove a wedge between me and my friends.” I look up at Clark again. “I even found out later that he'd made Lucy feel like she wouldn't be welcome at the wedding. Clark, he planted the idea that I thought she was beneath me and that I wouldn't ever want to see her again!”

His eyebrows shoot up at that.

“He was isolating me.” The realization still sends a cold shiver up my spine. “He systematically took away every piece of support I had. Well, he tried to, anyway.” Clark's grip on me tightens ever so slightly. “Years ago, when I did some articles on domestic violence, I learned that the first thing abusers often do to their victims is to disconnect them from everything and everyone, so that they'll have no one to run to once the beating starts.”

Clark winces. “Oh, Lois...” He pulls me closer, one hand coming up to cradle my cheek. “I could never have allowed that monster to do that to you. I swear, even if you had married him and he'd lived to gloat about it, I would have done everything in my power—”

“I know.” I lean further into his hand and look into those beautiful, compassionate eyes. “From what I hear, you *did* do everything in your power. Henderson had a lot to say about you after...everything.” My hands slide up his arms and onto the shoulders of that plastic breastplate. “Of course, even if you hadn't brought the cavalry, Lex still wouldn't have won that day. I stopped the wedding.”

He stills for a moment. “What?” The visor on his helmet slips down, but he quickly raises it again, staring at me with a confused expression.

I swallow, remembering his confession back when I had nearly told him this before. He'd gone first, saving me a world of embarrassment; but now, it's probably time he knew. “When the archbishop asked me if I took this man, I said I couldn't. From the moment I put on that bridal gown and stared at myself in the mirror, all I could think about was...someone else.” I look away from him, my heart slamming against my chest.

His shoulders sag beneath my hands, and his voice is soft. “Superman.”

“No.” The word comes out as barely more than a whisper, and I wonder if he can even hear me over the music. “You.” I close my eyes, not wanting to see whatever is now in his. Incredulity? Amusement? Pity? I don't need to know. I rush my next words out so the awkwardness won't last too long. “I realize you didn't really feel that way about me then. It's okay. When or why that started to change doesn't really matter, but—”

“I lied.” His grip on me tightens again.

“I know. You were just trying to keep me away from—”

“No.”

I finally open my eyes and risk a glance at Clark. He looks like he's...crying?

“At the wedding.” His voice is hoarse. “I shouldn't have done it, but I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing by taking it back. You needed a friend, and I thought that was all you wanted, so I tried to be that for you.”

I gasp as his meaning sinks in. Something glistens in the corner of his eye, and I reach up to brush it away.

“The truth is, I loved you from the day you stormed into my interview with Perry. I never stopped loving you. I just...didn't want to ruin everything if you couldn't love me back.”

“Oh, Clark!” I stare at my knight in plastic armor, and the truth is as clear to me now as it was when I stood in front of the mirror on what had nearly become the worst day of my life. “I do love you back!”

The breastplate over his chest is uncomfortably hard as he pulls me close, but his lips are soft and warm against mine, which makes it an even trade. When we finally break the kiss, we stay in each other's arms, swaying gently to whatever the band is playing. I rest my head on his shoulder.

An absurd thought crosses my mind, and the laugh escapes before I can stop it.

I sense more than see Clark's confusion. “Lois? What's so funny?”

I shake my head. “Just...we're *really* behind on having that first date now, aren't we?”

After a moment, his chest rumbles with laughter beneath the plastic, and his arms around me tighten.

All that worry about dating and relationship-labeling suddenly seems so pointless. Whatever happens next, I know that right now, I'm with the man I love; a man who loves me back. All is right in the world.




Happily Ever After

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

I pull Clark a little further away from the crowd and look up into his worried, brown eyes. “We've done this before, haven't we?”

He looks around at our friends and coworkers, all dressed in outfits that range from elaborate cos-play to cheap novelty pieces.

“I mean...” I rest my hand on his arm. “This. Us. It's not...” I can see by his growing frown that I'm not making myself clear. “I've been so afraid of things changing, between us. But, the more I think about it, it's not really that much of a change, is it?”

He covers my hand with his, and I look into his eyes.

“We've been so worked up about going on a date, right? But, looking back, that Corn Festival was kind of a date, wasn't it? We danced together. We had fun together. You even won me a teddy-bear.” The memory makes us both smile.

“We've kissed before, though granted, it was always for a cover.” I step close enough to feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckles.

“We've told each other things that no one else knows.” His smile vanishes, probably in response to the seriousness in my own expression now. My hands meet behind his back, and his arms come up around me. “Whatever this is that's happening between us, I think it's been happening for a long time; I just never let myself see it.”

“Lois...” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and tips my hat back so I can more clearly see his face. “I've been in love with you for so long, and I'd always hoped that someday, you'd see what I could always see for us. You're my best friend, and you always will be. I think if things do change, it'll just be...more. More of this. More of *us*.”

“More.” I study his eyes, so full of love that I have to look away before it overwhelms me. “More intimacy.”

His hand returns to rest on my back. “More trust.”

“More support.” I search his eyes again.

Their answer is affirmative. “More everything.”

Our lips meet. The band started playing a slow ballad at some point, and Clark and I just sway together right where we are. No matter what happens, I now know exactly what we are to each other.




PARTNERS

I pull Clark a little closer, suddenly needing to reassure myself that he's really here and not at the bottom of a pond in Kansas. “I was just thinking about that time we spent in Smallville, and I remembered how that nutcase Trask came so close to killing you! I—I almost lost you that day, Clark!”

“Oh, Lois...” His hand comes up to cup my cheek.

I rest my hand over his. “I don't ever want to lose you. That's what makes this so terrifying!”

A frown crinkles his forehead.

“You're my best friend, and I'm relationship poison!” I can feel the tears forming, but there's nothing I can do to stop them. “If I can't give you everything you want, or be everything you need me to be...” A shudder wracks through me, and I hiccup. It's getting harder to breathe, let alone talk.

Clark brushes a tear from my cheek, though another quickly takes its place. “Lois...” He quickly ushers us into a corner far from the other party-goers. When he speaks again, his voice his soft and low. “I don't need you to do or be anything! You're perfect just as you are!”

I shake my head. “You say that. But then, you'll want to show me off to your friends, and I'll piss them off with my opinions. You'll want me to trust you completely around other women, and I'll be paranoid because everything you say will be the same excuses my father gave about his mistresses. You'll want to feel like a rock-star in bed, and I won't be convincing enough when I fake being impressed. I'll disappoint you, you'll hate me, and then you'll leave me. I've been down this road before, Clark! I don't want to wind up back there with you!”

His arms come around me, and I bury my face in his shirt. My hat knocks backward, the little string catching around my neck to keep it from falling.

“Please.” The word comes out as a gasp. “Not you. You're the best friend I ever had. I can't lose you!”

Clark rubs my back in gentle circles. “You'll never lose me, Lois. Never!” He tips my chin up to look at him. “If my friends don't like your opinions, that's their problem! I love your sharp mind and how passionately you defend what's important to you!” His hand cups my cheek again. “I'll earn your trust, instead of just demanding it, and if we never reach the point where you can give it, then we'll work through that together.” His thumb sweeps at the tears trekking down my face. “And If I can't impress you, I'd rather find out what you want than have you lie to stroke my ego. You're my best friend too, Lois. I'd rather die than throw that all away, so that is *not* where this is going!”

I take a deep breath and manage to find my voice, tiny though it is. “So where is this going, then?”

He reaches up to stroke my hair, his own voice as soft and gentle as his touch. “I know where I hope it's going: somewhere amazing and beautiful. I really think we have what it takes to get there. All I want is a chance to find out. Lois, will you find out together with me? Please?”

The tears are pricking again, and I shut my eyes. I take another breath, then nod. Clark's lips are warm and firm against mine, as if he could impart some of his confidence to me through his kiss. I straighten my spine and kiss him back. Together, we'll venture into the unknown.




NEW FRONTIER

I set my tea down next to his and turn back to look into his eyes. “Clark, I know my signals haven't been very clear... Well, in the beginning, I guess they were certainly clear enough.” My cheeks feel warm again. “But that's because you—you, *Clark*—are something that I was afraid of...am still afraid of.” He looks troubled. I take a deep breath. “Superman was just a fantasy who couldn't hurt me, but you...you're real. I realized early on that if I let my feelings win, that if I even acknowledged I had them, I'd be giving you the power to completely break my heart.”

I scoot closer to him on the sofa, and it's a little relieving when he shifts closer to me as well. “When Miranda sprayed us all with that pheromone that made everyone lose their inhibitions, all those disaster scenarios in my head suddenly didn't seem so important compared to what I could have if I let myself love you. It was you I wanted, Clark: not Superman, not Lex.” His eyes grow large and seem to glimmer, slightly. I press on.

“When I almost married Lex, the thought of losing you—even as a friend—was agony. I started to realize that trying to keep my heart safe wasn't worth it; if anything, it was back-firing.” I'm not sure when our hands linked, but I give his a light squeeze. “Then, when Dillinger shot you...Clark, I was a wreck. That's when I finally realized that I couldn't just keep denying this: I...I love you, Clark. Even though I'd been fighting it, I've loved you all this time.”

“Lois...” His voice is hoarse, and he pulls me into a tight embrace and covers my lips with his. It's a long time before we break apart from each other. “I love you so much...I've never wanted to hurt you...”

“We've been hurting each other though, haven't we?” I think back once again to the sight of Superman—Clark—flying out of my window; just as heart-broken as I was, I now realize.

Clark runs his thumb over my cheekbone and cups my face in his hand. “No more,” he whispers. “I love you, Lois Lane.”

I close my eyes and kiss him again, letting myself jump into the deep end of whatever this is that's been growing between us for the past couple of years. There's still a lot to talk about, and we'll probably have to figure out how Superman fits into everything, but there's no real rush—it's not as if we're going to make it to the party tonight, anyway. So for now, we're just two people in love with nowhere else we need to be.



An Ordinary Couple

I turn back and look him in the eyes. “So, if I were to decide that I didn't want Superman in my life at all anymore, would you just give him up?”

“Give him up?!” Clark's eyebrows race to his hairline. “Lois, you're the reason there even *is* a Superman! You inspired the idea and, while you probably didn't realize it, you encouraged Superman to even keep going! Why would you suddenly want me to give him up?”

My cheeks feel warm again, and I file this information away for later. Right now, there's a point I have to make. “But say I did. Say I suddenly agree with Mayson Drake about him being a menace to society. All I want is my nice, ordinary reporter man. Could you do that for me, Clark? Just give me an ordinary life with no powers, no secret identities, and no flying off to save the day?”

He stares at me, his mouth working but no sound coming out. “I...I don't...” He sighs and sets his tea down on the table. “Well, no. I don't think I could.”

I fold my arms and fix him with my sharpest glare. “Then why is that what you're trying to sell me?”

He blinks.

“You want me to love an ordinary man, but you're *not* one, Clark!” He flinches, but I press on. “You're...you're...well, I don't know what you are! Some kind of blend, I guess. You're the guy who edits my copy at work and puts up with my babbling, but you're also the guy who smashed a giant asteroid into bits! You're the guy who was shot by a cloned gangster, and...and...were you even actually dead?!” The sudden realization makes my heart race again.

Clark looks away.

My blood begins to boil. “You weren't dead. I was a complete wreck, thinking that you were gone forever and that I'd gotten you killed, and you were just flying around up there without a care in the world!”

He winces but holds a hand up. “Hey, I had plenty of cares! I hated seeing you suffer, Lois, but at that time, Clark Kent really was dead!”

I huff. “Who are *you*, then? Clark or Superman?”

He looks over at the glasses sitting on the coffee table, and one hand reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I guess I just...” He lowers his hand and sighs.

For a while, we sit on the couch in silence. I'm still fuming, reliving the nightmare of watching Clark die. I don't even remember the funeral; I had been so lost.

Clark stares down at his hands, seeming deep in thought. Finally, he speaks. “Lois, have you ever wondered what it would be like if you just woke up one day and found out that everything you thought you knew about yourself was a lie?”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

He meets my eyes again. “What if you suddenly found out that your parents weren't really your parents, and you technically weren't even a legal citizen of the only country you ever called home? What if your own body started to change in ways you couldn't understand or predict, and you found out that you weren't actually human? Would you still be you? Would you still be Lois Lane, or would you just think of yourself as some kind of...Ultra...Woman?”

I take in a sharp breath, leaning forward and resting my hand on his arm. “Is that what it was like for you?”

His eyes lower, and he nods. “Look, you're right: I'm not just an ordinary human being like Mayson seems to want. But, I am still Clark Kent; that's who I've been for all of my life. Up until last year, that was the only person I even knew how to be. Everything else is just...extra.”

“Show me,” I whisper.

He stares at me with a confused frown.

I shift on the couch and take both of his hands in mine. “Just let me find out who you really are. Let's start from scratch, but this time, no secrets and no lies.”

Clark nods. “All right.” He takes a deep breath, then slips his hands out of mine and puts one forward for me to shake. “Hi, I'm Clark Kent, but some people call me 'Superman'. I was born on the planet Krypton but grew up in Kansas. I really like you a lot. Will you please go out with me?”

I shake his hand, stifling a giggle. “You mean like on a date?” I pretend to think. “Well, I suppose I could give it a shot. Okay.”

He smiles. On impulse, I lean forward and claim his lips in a kiss. There's no doubt that we've missed the party, but maybe that's for the best: instead of going out in disguises, we can spend some time discovering who we really are.




No More Costumes