Remember, this has not been beta'd.
Part 3
Twenty minutes later, Lois sat tucked into a corner booth at Uncle Mike’s, the familiar hum of the restaurant softening the edges of her mood. A steaming cup of coffee sat beside a slice of chocolate torte drizzled with raspberry sauce—comfort food, rich and grounding. For the first time all day, she let herself exhale.
Lois was savoring the last bite of her chocolate torte when a familiar voice broke through the café’s hum.
“Mind if I join you?” Clark asked, standing just beside her table.
She looked up, and her face lit with a smile. “Of course you can, Clark. But how did you know I’d be here?” she asked, lifting her coffee for a sip.
Clark slid into the seat across from her. “You mentioned last night how much you missed your uncle’s chocolate torte,” he said with a soft smile.
Just then, a waitress appeared beside their table.
“I’ll have a coffee, please,” Clark said.
“Extra cream and sugar,” Lois added with a knowing smile, beating him to it.
The waitress gave a nod and disappeared toward the counter.
“Should I ask how things went with your friend?” Clark asked, the edge in his voice barely masked.
Lois gave a small shrug. “He’s not really a friend. We went to college together—I tutored him for six weeks, went on two dates, and… it didn’t end well.”
She paused, then added quietly, “I stopped tutoring him.”
Clark tilted his head, eyes searching hers. “Why did you stop?”
Clark’s gaze lingered on her, the silence stretching just long enough to register something unspoken.
He nodded slowly, eyes dropping to his coffee as the waitress returned and set the cup down.
“Thanks,” he murmured, then stirred the cream and sugar without looking up.
Lois watched him, sensing the shift. “It wasn’t love,” she said softly. “Not even close.”
Clark gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Still,” he said, voice low, “I’m sorry he made you feel that way.”
“That’s why I don’t trust him,” Lois said firmly. “And I don’t care if he trusts me.”
She leaned in slightly, her voice low. “Clark, he’s convinced you ran off to confront someone at the university. Jonah wouldn’t drop it—kept insisting you were trying to get him fired.”
“Lois, why would I do that?” Clark asked, his voice tight as he stirred his coffee with a little too much force. “It’s not jealousy. I’m worried about you.”
Lois pulled her arms in close, her posture folding inward. “He said some pretty cruel things about my past,” she murmured. “About Lex. About me. Said I must not know how to pick decent men.”
Clark’s spoon stilled. The silence between them thickened, not with judgment—but with something far more protective.
Clark’s spoon stilled in his cup, the tension in his shoulders barely contained. “Lois,” he said, voice low, “I don’t care what Jonah thinks of me.”
She blinked, surprised by the sharp honesty. Her posture softened, but she didn’t speak right away.
“I care what you think,” he said again, quieter now. “I always have.”
Lois didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned in—just enough for him to feel it. Not dramatic. Just deliberate. “I think you’re the one I stopped running from,” she said. “The one I finally stopped making excuses about.”
Clark’s breath caught. He didn’t speak. He just looked at her—really looked—like he was trying to memorize every detail before it slipped away.
“I don’t know everything about you,” Lois continued, her voice steady but vulnerable. “But I know how you make me feel. Safe. Seen. Like I matter.”
Clark reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with the gentlest touch. “You do,” he said. “You always have.”
Outside, the October light faded into long shadows across the café window. Inside, the warmth between them held—quiet, steady, and real.
No more running. Just this.
“So where did you go?” Lois asked, keeping her tone steady, trying to anchor herself in something familiar—questions, facts, the rhythm of being a reporter. Not the ache in her chest. Not the man sitting across from her.
In love. No. Was she? Of course, she was. But she couldn’t say it. Not here. Not now. Not when her heart was still trying to catch up.
“After you left to find Jimmy,” she added, eyes fixed on her coffee, not on him.
Clark’s gaze flicked to the window, then back to her. “I had to check on something,” he said, keeping his tone even. “Someone needed help.”
Lois narrowed her eyes slightly, instinct kicking in. “Someone?”
He nodded, stirring his coffee slowly now. “It wasn’t anything I could ignore.”
She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. The silence between them stretched, filled with everything he wasn’t saying.
“I didn’t mean to leave you in the middle of it,” he added, quieter now. “I just… had to go.”
Lois studied him, the reporter in her itching to press, but the woman in love choosing not to. Not yet.
Clark didn’t want to lie to her. But right now wasn’t the time.
“Lois,” he said, voice quiet but sure, “can I take you out tonight?”
“Like a real date?” Lois asked, a smile tugging at her lips. “The kind where I put perfume behind my knee and have no idea why?”
Clark’s eyes softened, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You could,” he said. “But I’m not sure you need anything extra.”
He reached for her hand, thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. “You already have my attention.”
“Did your parents fly back to Smallville this morning?” Lois asked, casually enough. “I figured that’s why you were running late.”
Clark tensed—just for a moment. Barely noticeable. But Lois noticed.
His nod was slow. “Yeah. Early flight.”
She tilted her head, watching him. “You sure? Because that pause felt like you’re hiding something.”
Clark met her eyes, trying to keep his voice even. “I wasn’t expecting the question.”
Lois leaned back slightly, her tone gentle but probing. “Clark, you don’t have to tell me everything. But when you hesitate like that, I know there’s more.”
He looked down at his coffee, then back at her. “There is. Just… not something I can explain. Not yet.”
Lois watched him, the silence stretching between them. Then she reached for his hand. “Okay,” she said softly. “Not yet.”
He nodded, but his voice was tight. “So what do we do about Jonah?”
Lois exhaled, her thoughts circling. Jonah wasn’t just worried—he was disturbed. As head coach, he knew his players. He’d seen hits that should’ve knocked them out of the game, collisions that should’ve left bruises or worse. But they kept playing. No limps. No complaints. No pain.
And that was the problem.
She shook her head slowly. “We need to find out what’s happening at Metropolis University,” she said. “Because if Jonah’s right… someone’s messing with those kids.”
Clark set down his coffee cup. “We should talk to some of the players,” he said. “See if Jonah made a list—anyone he’s especially worried about.”
Lois stood, grabbing her coat. “He better be gone by the time we get back to the Planet,” she muttered. “And maybe check in with Enrique. See what he’s noticed about the team.”
Clark dropped a few bills on the counter, covering Lois’s torte and their coffee. They stepped out into the cool afternoon and started back toward the Planet.
He glanced at her, voice low. “Lois… what if Jonah’s involved?”
“Why would he come to us?” Lois asked, her voice low as they walked side by side down the street.
Clark placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her around a puddle. “He wouldn’t be the first person we’ve trusted who turned out to be hiding something.”
Lois glanced at him. “You mean Lex?”
He nodded, eyes scanning the sidewalk ahead. “People wear masks, Lois. Even the ones who say they’re trying to help.”
“I wish people would stop reminding me,” Lois said quietly. “I know I was blind about Lex. I’ve paid for that.”
Clark didn’t interrupt. He just walked beside her, steady and silent.
She glanced at him, her voice tightening. “I see things clearer now. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
Clark stopped short, his voice firm. “I’ve never thrown that in your face, Lois. Not once. I know you regret what happened with Luthor—I know what it cost you.”
She turned toward him, surprised by the edge in his tone.
“I will always stand by you,” he said, softer now. “Even when it hurts. Especially then.”
Lois gave a small nod, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only person I know who wouldn’t throw my mistakes in my face.”
Clark reached for her hand, steady and sure. “I never will.”
They walked in silence for a moment, the city humming around them. The ache between them had softened, replaced by something steadier—shared purpose.
Lois glanced toward the Daily Planet building in the distance. “Let’s get back,” she said. “We’ve got work to do.”
Clark matched her stride. “And a team to protect.”
Together, they headed back to the Planet, the investigation just beginning.
