Author's Notes: Could this have taken any longer to produce?! I was tapping into idea-banks I never knew I had :rolleyes: . I know this isn't long, but I didn't want anyone to lose interest in this story, since I haven't posted in quite a while. I just hope that those of you who've read the first 2 parts, are still hanging in there.
Enjoy.
-Jo
Damage Control 3/?
“Who’s the new tight-end?”
Lois, startled from her coffee-reverie, turned towards the sound of the Planet’s resident gossip queen, Catherine Grant, or “Cat” as she preferred. The “tight-end” in question was non-other then Mr. Green jeans, himself, Clark Kent; The paper’s new golden boy, and a thorn in Lois’s already tender side.
Responding to her colleague’s less than professional comment, Lois rolled her eyes, “Why don’t you throw your usual forward pass and find out?” They both watched as cub-reporter Jimmy Olsen showed Mr. Kent around the bullpen, and narrated everything but the older man at the water fountain.
“A real veteran huh?” he responded at Jimmy’s “Any questions, just ask,” comment. Jimmy rubbed at his jaw, debonairly, trying to appear modest as he explained his career climb from copy-boy to Lois Lane’s personal assistant.
Clark’s mind drifted a bit, as Jimmy continued. Lois Lane was the Planet’s star-reporter, and from what Clark could gather, a real hard-as-nails newswoman. She didn’t seem to care much for someone upstaging, or in this case scooping her. Even though it was her prerogative to abandon the theater story, her curt tone told him that she obviously had not appreciated Clark’s take-over.
She was stubborn as hell, Clark could determine, and she had a feisty fire to her. But her attitude toward Superman betrayed her a bit. Clark felt on a deep-level that something had tainted an otherwise satisfactory opinion of the “Super-hero”, and made her believe him the enemy instead of a friend there to help, as Lana had proclaimed.
She was, he could also tell, determined to right the wrongs as she saw them. This could be difficult for his alter ego, as he felt that even a risk to her life wouldn’t hold her back.
“…we’re tight,” Jimmy concluded. Clark shook his head and smiled effortlessly at the younger employee.
“I’ll bet,” he replied. Clark had to grant Jimmy this one: he was lucky enough to work with someone committed to the job as she obviously was. Jimmy could do worse for a professional mentor. She was an enigma, Clark thought, and a particularly alluring one.
And she was looking right at him.
Her blush, and prompt change in direction confused Clark a bit. Her companion obviously did not have the same inhibitions, and admired Clark bluntly and openly with a “come-hither” look. Clark had never really seen one in action, but he had of course heard the cliché… but this was what she was really doing.
Lois busied herself with her coffee as he approached. Her embarrassment at being caught staring intensified as she heard him walk towards herself and Cat. It wasn’t like she was appreciating his physique or anything; quite the contrary. She was explaining to Cat that a man like that was only after one thing, and naturally, Cat responded, “All the better.” Lois sometimes wondered why she even bothered. Cat obviously wasn’t looking for a lifetime commitment. Too bad, Lois thought, she didn’t know what she was missing.
Lois knew all too well what she was missing, and the ache that accompanied these thoughts was there in full force. When Clark was finally standing by them, engrossed in picking up Cat no doubt, Lois allowed herself to be honest.
Though Clark would of course go for someone like Cat Grant, she had to admit that he wasn’t hard to look at. In fact, if she was being completely honest, he *did* have an impressive physique, even from what she could tell hidden beneath his conservative attire.
But then again, Superman had a generous body, and he was vigilance committee of one. It hardly means that they’re incapable of hurting someone. In fact, it was her experience that most men were incapable of doing a lot of things, intimacy and commitment being the most prevalent.
As he was turning his attention towards Lois, Cat Grant stepped in to his foot-path. He tried to side-step her, but Cat would not be waved.
“Catherine Grant,” she said pushing her hand towards him, and batting her eyelashes, “‘Cat’s Corner’.”
“Yes,” Clark said taking her hand cautiously, “I’ve read your column.” She didn’t seem surprised, and Clark shook her hand politely.
“Then my reputation precedes me.” Her smile was flirtatious, and predatory. Lois snorted at that comment, mumbling something about, “other things”. Clark chuckled quietly at her sarcastic remark, noting her slightly pleased look.
Cat was not deterred, she continued on, giving him a look that spoke of a special predator/prey relationship, that Clark assumed Cat was more than familiar with, “I know what its like to be new in town,” she took a daring step closer to him, “I’d be happy to show you around.”
Clark had to think fast. Sure this “Cat Grant” was gorgeous, in that conventionally-hip, ‘woman of the nineties’ look she knew so well, but Clark didn’t see the appeal too much. She didn’t have the feistiness he craved, the challenge he wanted to see in her eyes… the dark brown hair that fell below her ears, or the haunted dark eyes that spoke of tragedy, and surviving.
His eyes flickered to Lois, standing behind Cat, and she had a less-than-amused look on her face. He could have predicted that. She probably saw Cat as an indictment to all career women everywhere; a truly appalling display of forthright and crude sexuality. Clark didn’t necessarily agree, but he knew that whatever it was the Cat possessed, it certainly wasn’t what he was interested in.
“That’s very nice of you, Ms. Grant,” he said, finally.
“Cat,” she corrected; a carefully-placed, seductive smile firmly in place.
“Cat,” he edited, his eyes again shifting to Lois as she pretended to be preoccupied with the on/off switch on the coffeemaker, “Maybe when I get settled.”
“It’s a date,” Cat declared triumphantly, and Lois’s head shot up from its investigation of the machine. Clark’s eyes met hers, and held for a second. He saw her fear, an emotion he couldn’t put an origin to for her, and he saw her disgust that he hadn’t denied Cat her blatant invitation. He knew she was thinking, ‘typical-male’, and he knew that he was going to prove to her that he was anything but typical.
She broke their stare, and moved in the direction of Perry’s office. Her strides were determined and definitive, just as her curt knock was before entering.
“I’ll need a task force, I can’t cover this story alone,” Lois demanded, her mind already calculating the possibilities. Nobody she would truly consider in any other capacity was available, just Burns with his annoying affinity for spraining ankles, immediately putting him out on the job; Myerson, with his monotone and equally monotonous topics. ‘I’d rather cook and clean my apartment for a month, than talk about the weather,’ she thought bitterly.
“You have Jimmy,” Perry said, lifting his head barely to look at her. Lois scoffed.
“Chief, we’re talking about the space program…” Not that Jimmy was anything but a genius, but this was serious journalism, and needed to be handled with utmost professionalism, and experience.
“All right,” Perry said, straightening a bit in his chair, “Take Kent.”
“Kent?!” she asked incredulously. ‘I’ll take Jimmy,’ she thought somberly, but than recanted. Jimmy was still not going to cut it.
“What about Myerson?” Lois said quickly, tapping into her colleague reserve.
“Busy,” Perry replied. ‘With what? Paint takes quite a long time to dry,’ Lois thought sardonically, ‘I’m sure he can fit a story in there somewhere.’ No bother, she continued on.
“Burns?”
“Budapest?” Lois couldn’t believe this! ‘He must have a broken ankle by now!’
“Forget Kent,” she told the older man defiantly.
“He’s a good man,” the Chief informed her.
“He’s a hick. From ‘Smallville’.” She stared at him boldly, “I couldn’t make that name up.”
“It’s Kent or nobody,” Perry said, returning to his work, his tone telling her he was through negotiating.
“You can’t ever tell me, I’m not a team player.” She moved to the door, her head held high with her deliberate dignity.
Perry felt something was going to happen; he felt it in his gut. It was one of the reasons he was such a good news-hound.
‘And some people thought it’s because I could yodel,’ he thought with an audible chuckle.
***
