Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bruce was making him laugh with his latest story of Dick's shenanigans on the chandelier when he heard her heartbeat. Clark blinked and tried to refocus, but of course Bruce caught his momentary lapse of attention. Bruce glanced around the diner and then his eyes widened briefly. "Ah," he said, merely hint of amusement lacing his tone. "You really can pick her out of a crowd."

Clark felt his face heat up and he hunched over his breakfast, attempting to hide his blush behind his coffee mug. "Shut up," he muttered.

Bruce just smirked.

"Smallville? Is that you?"

"Oh no," Clark whispered as he heard Lois' quick stride coming closer. Bruce's smirk only grew.

"Oh thank god, you have coffee," Lois exclaimed, as she threw her coat across the back of the booth and herself down next to him and immediately stole his mug, taking a long drink. She leveled him with a flat glare, accentuating the bags under her eyes. "Smallville. This is disgusting. How much sugar did you put in here?"

"It my coffee, Lois. Aren't you getting your own?" Clark replied in exasperation, taking his mug back. Her hands were freezing.

Lois shrugged. "Yours was quicker."

A discreet snort from the other side of the booth had her eyes snapping over and registering Bruce. "Oh my god, Mr. Wayne, hi. Hello. I am so sorry, I didn't realize Clark was in an interview," Lois babbled, flustered. Clark frowned. Lois was never flustered. And her situational awareness was usually at least as good as his. How tired was she?

"No, no, its fine, we were just catching up," Bruce waved away her apology with a charming smile. Clark shot him a warning look over the rim of his glasses. "And please, call me Bruce." Asshole.

Lois arched an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. "Catching up? Like..." she trailed off, staring at Clark like she expected him to finish her sentence. (He was very good at finishing her sentences.) Her coffee, black as ink, finally arrived.

He sighed, resigned. "Like friends do, Lois. You know, friends? People you see outside of work whose company you enjoy?"

Lois merely hummed dismissively and pulled his plate of half-eaten pancakes toward her. "Didn't you meet a few years ago after the alien thing in DC?" she asked them. "He interviewed you, right? On your humanitarian and recovery efforts?

"Yes, we did," Bruce answered, eyebrows twitching. "I'm surprised you remembered that."

"Clark had a mischievous smile after that interview," Lois replied, cutting into the sweet chocolate chip pancakes Clark was already mourning. "I remember people who make Clark smile, because," she looked drolly at Bruce, "it usually spells trouble for me."

"Like you can even spell trouble," Clark muttered to his coffee.

Bruce sputtered and tried to hide his laughter behind his napkin. Lois nearly choked on her pancakes.

"Rude, Kent."

Clark smiled serenely, patting her back gently. "Who, me? Nah, you're just off your game, darlin'," he drawled, and willed himself to not react when he heard Lois' heart rate jump. Lois just shoveled more pancakes in her mouth and glared.

"Speechless, Miss Lane?" asked Bruce, still pretending that he wasn't amused. "I was under the impression you were usually the victor in wars of words."

Taking a sip of her own coffee, Lois replied, "I am deeply concerned about why you have an impression of me at all, Mr. Wayne." She was still glaring at Clark.

Clark glared back at her. "More importantly, why are you off your game this morning? First off, you hate being up this early, and considering this is the same outfit I saw you in yesterday I'm gonna guess you've been up all night sleuthing in places you're not allowed."

Pointing her fork at him, Lois sniped back, "Screw you, Kent." She groaned and dropped her head into her free hand. "I've been up all night trying to figure out this new LuthorCorp thing, and yes, that included trying to get in to the damn facility for several hours and lurking about for most of the night. I have some thoughts I need to write up first and then I'm gonna go back."

Bruce shifted, a hint of detective peaking through. "What Luthor thing?"

"New facility, lead-lined, no windows, and a press release about his economic devotion to the city," Lois listed. "It all just seems too... suspicious."

"You think everything Luthor does is suspicious," Clark muttered, snagging a piece of bacon back from his stolen plate.

"It is," said Bruce (flatly) and Lois (emphatically) together. They look at each other surprised, then grinned victoriously at Clark.

Clark sighed from the depths of his soul. These two becoming friends was the last thing he needed.

"So, Miss Lane," Bruce said, detective mode on, "what have you got so far?"

Lois sparkled. She always did when she was chasing a story, digging for clues, pursuing truth. Especially when she and Clark were talking something through together. (No, that was not a pang of jealousy that she was looking at his best friend that way, what are you talking about?)

"Okay, so," and she was off, "we heard about the new facility just a couple days ago from a source in the fire department who was irritated about safety hazard bribes, and then when I went to check out the address last night, it's barely three stories high, but I remember the construction in that area being disruptive all last year, so I'm positive it goes deep, and there are no windows, only two surface level entrances that I could see, my Geiger counter was off the charts, and it back right up to the docks," Lois paused for a breath and a gulp of coffee. "The water seemed pretty agitated from what I could tell, and there was a funny smell I couldn't place. Chemically, for sure, but I have no idea how to get a sample from them that isn't a bogus analysis."

Bruce frowned thoughtfully. "Have you tried asking S.T.A.R. Labs? I'd offer a WE lab, but Luthor and I have too many legal issues between us. But S.T.A.R. is pretty neutral."

Lois tilted her head and chewed another bite of pancake while she turned it over in her head.

"Also," Bruce added, intrigued, "you have a Geiger counter? Just. On hand?"

"Of course," Lois scoffed. "I keep it with my recorder."

"Huh." Bruce looked subtly impressed. (And no that wasn't a second pang of jealousy Clark was feeling, why do you ask? Stop it.)

Tapping the fork on the side of the plate, Lois sighed, frustrated. "There's just... something in the back of my head that I can't quite grasp. I need to write it out. Or poke around some more."

"What you need," Clark broke in, "is sleep."

"When I'm dead, Smallville," Lois waved him off, glaring off into the middle distance.

"Lois, if you don't get some sleep and you keep poking around a LuthorCorp facility, you might literally end up dead," Clark pointed out. "Plus, if Perry finds out you've been working on your weekend off, you'll definitely be dead, and more importantly, so will I."

Lois grunted in concession. "But I can't let this go, Clark." She looked at him, eyes exhausted yet sharp. "My gut is telling me that something important is in that building and leaving it alone for too long will be disastrous for us all."

Clark sighed. "Okay, how about you come over to my place after I get off my beat today and we hash through it together? Get some sleep first. Bring your horribly illegible notes. I'll order Chinese."

Bruce grunted approvingly. "I'll call some people and see what I can find out as well."

Lois looked as surprised as Clark wished he could feel. Bruce hated Lex too. Her eyes went a little manic. "You know what would be really helpful, is if we could get into the QI building next door to do some surveillance."

"I'll call Ollie." Bruce glanced at his watch. "Soon. It's early on the west coast."

"Now that's just mean," Clark scolded. Ollie had just finished a shift on the brand-new Watchtower. Bruce knew that, because Bruce wrote the schedule.

"You know Oliver Queen well enough to call him Ollie?" Lois tilted her head

"He won't mind." Bruce smirked. "We went to boarding school with Luthor. Got in trouble once. Robert Queen had to come in person to bail us out. Told us it was always morally correct to ruin a Luthor's day. Good advice."

Clark didn't know this story.

Lois was cackling around the last bite of Clark's pancakes. "Oh my god, that's petty. That explains so many of QI and WE dealings with LuthorCorp. I have to get you two together sometime."

"Absolutely not," Bruce said definitively. He didn't even flinch when Clark kicked him in the shin, which, okay, fine, be stoic and Batman, if you must. That was fine. Kal-El would just mention it to Hal, and between the two of them they could annoy the story out of Bruce and Ollie.

"See you at Clark's tonight?" Lois asked Bruce, grabbing Clark's hat and her coat. "Thanks for breakfast, Smallville."

"Please go sleep," Clark begged.

Lois grinned. "One more thing first."

"Don't let Perry see you in the office."

Lois waved him off as she strode out of the diner, re-energized and stubborn as ever. His hat was too big for her and she had to hold on to it as she stepped into the street.

He turned back and found Bruce looking at him. "What?"

Bruce shook his head. "Goner."

"Oh shut up."

Chapter Text

Clark carried the bags of Chinese (that Bruce had paid for) up the steps, not bothering to hide the fact that he was listening to Bruce's conversation with Dick.

Clark snickered as their negotiations over Dick's patrol finally concluded.

"And I want you to check in with Al," Bruce added. "Every fifteen minutes."

"Oh come on, B. I'll be on comms with him the whole time!" whined the fourteen-year-old. "What else am I gonna do, riding alone the city for an hour?"

"Sneak over to the Gordon's to flirt with a certain red-head, perhaps," Bruce asked wryly.

"Whoa, hold on," Clark pulled Bruce's phone to his ear. "There's a red-head? You haven't told me about a red-head."

"We're just friends, Uncle Clark."

"Uh-huh. And..."

Dick groaned. "And sometimes Robin gets bored and drops by. It's no big deal. Babs is, like, crazy smart. It's fun to talk to her about cases and stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Shut up.

"Unlikely." Clark glanced at his door and frowned.

Bruce pulled his hand back and said, "I'm going to let you go, chum. Do your homework."

"Yeah, yeah. Bye, Uncle Clark, love you!"

"Love you Dickie! Call me and tell me about the girl!" Clark called loudly as he unlocked and opened his door, Bruce quietly saying farewell behind him. The shower was still going. Papers covered his dining table. As usual, Lois' coat was nowhere near the coat rack, but at least it had made it to the back of the couch instead of ending up in a pile on the floor.

Bruce stepped in and looked around silently. "You have terrible security." He frowned at the balcony. "Is that even locked."

Clark rolled his eyes. "Why would I need to lock my balcony?"

"It's a security risk."

"It's the seventh floor, Bruce."

"And?"

"And the average Metropolis catburglar can't, and won't, scale five stories let alone an extra two just to reach a reporter's sad eight hundred square-foot apartment."

"Hn."

"It's fine. How is your catburglar, by the way?"

"Selina's fine. Will you at least put a dowel rod in."

"No."

"Hm."

"No, please don't try to add an alarm system again. You know that's what got me kicked out of my last building."

"I thought you were asked to leave for. Other reasons."

Clark glared at his friend over his glasses. "Sure."

Bruce tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Can I ask who's in your apartment. Since we are talking security here. Seems important."

"It's just Lois. She does this sometimes." His voice was smooth and steady. His pulse was not. Fortunately, Bruce wasn't the one with super-hearing.

Unfortunately, he was Batman and Clark was blushing anyways.

Bruce stared at him. "She. Does this. Comes over to your apartment. To shower. When you aren't here. Sometimes."

The shower turned off.

"Shut up," Clark said, feeling like Dick for a moment.

"When she said she would be meeting us here, I suppose I assumed we would arrive first." Bruce wandered over to the table and started looking over some of the notes. He pulled out a small notebook.

Clark shook his head and went to the kitchen to set out the Chinese. He pulled down three bowls, two sets of chopsticks, and a fork. "She kind of like a cat. And, besides, she has a key. She didn't break in."

"Although I could if I really wanted to," Lois said, coming down the hall. "You have terrible security."

Bruce nodded. "That's what I said."

Clark sighed. "Why would I need security? I'm on the seventh floor, nothing in here is worth stealing, and I'm- I'm just me."

Lois gave him a look. "Just a part of the best investigative journalist team on the Eastern seaboard whose been targeted multiple times by corrupt city officials, military leaders, and, oh yeah, Lex Luthor, chief hater of Superman, decent sleep schedules, and OSHA regulations. Your last place was broken into how many times again?"

Bruce looked at him. Clark ignored him as he turned to glare at Lois instead, instantly loosing his train of thought as he saw her leaning against his kitchen wall wearing his favorite flannel, jeans she had left here almost a month ago, and his socks on her feet.

"See, it's bad if you have to think about for that long," she said, misinterpreting his silence, her cheeks pink and hair smelling like his shampoo.

"You're still in the lead for most car bombing attempts," Clark replied, the banter coming automatically as his higher brain functions slowly came back online.

It wasn't like Lois had never stolen his clothes before. There was a sweater that was basically hers now. But for some reason, he kept looking at her feet. At his socks. They were a nice, thick wool, a gift from his ma a couple Christmases ago. Lois, despite her insistence on wearing heels, frequently complained about having cold feet.

Something in him wanted to purr at the sight of her feet being warm.

Bruce was exchanging personal safety tips with Lois, both of them subtly ignoring Clark. He turned back to the food, adding beef fried rice, shrimp lo mein, and sweet'n'sour chicken to one bowl (for Lois) and chicken fried rice and orange chicken into another bowl (for Bruce). He brought them over to the table with the chopsticks, scooching what looked like city planning blueprints over. "Water? Wine?"

"Water," Bruce answered, predictably.

"Is it that chardonnay I brought over last time?" Lois asked.

"Yes."

"The whole bottle."

"Sure thing."

"What is in your bowl," Bruce asked her, horrified.

"A little bit of everything," she replied with a shrug. "It's good."

"No."

"I keep trying to tell her that," Clark called over his shoulder, scooping up his own bowl of lo mein and stabbing it with his fork.

Bruce looked mildly upset.

Lois took a large bite and grinned.