Work Text:
Unsurprisingly it is Steve that starts the conversation, appearing at their corner of the bullpen with a pleading expression that might almost work if it were worn by anyone else.
“Please – They’re great tickets, it’s sure to be a stand-out game.”
“If it’s such a good game, why aren’t you going? It is your job.” Cat generously chirps, smiling with all her teeth in Steve’s direction. They’d all overheard his conversation on the phone yesterday and they’d all done their part in trying to convince him that heading to his ex’s place out of town to ‘fix the pipes’ was surely going to end up in tears.
He scoffs, brushing her off and physically blocking her out from the conversation. “I’ll cover whatever work you need for the next month. One of you must have some time this weekend to sit in for me.”
Just as Clark is about to open his mouth, Steve quickly points his direction and shakes his head. “Not you, Kent.”
Lois bites back a smile, catching the small crease that forms between his brows before he turns back to his computer. Clark was a good writer. Well. He recognised the flaws he had in his writing, overcompensating in his attempt to hide his emotion and instead replacing it with a dryness that was so opposite to how he sounded when speaking face-to-face. So much of his prose is saved by the fact that Superman has lended a word or two to the content.
Steve liked the Sports section to be… rambunctious. He wouldn’t get that from Clark.
It probably didn’t help that Clark supported the Ravens instead of Steve’s own Harpers.
“How about you, Olsen? Come on. You know you want to.”
“Basketball isn’t my game.”
“It’s baseball.” Clark murmurs from his desk, drawing Lois’ eye back to his direction. Past his hunched form, she catches sight of a photo pinned to the corner of his desk. It is sun bleached, almost all the colour entirely drained from it but enough still remains to make out the shape of two men– one older and one younger, a leather glove between them.
She leans back in her chair, an idea beginning to form.
“So close, my man. Same principles really. One team wins, one team loses. You just gotta write about what happens in between. Please!”
“I’ve got a date–” Jimmy tries to decline again, cut off by Lois interrupting with a smirk. “I thought they were ‘informants’?”
The withered glare she receives in return only pleases her further.
“Wait.” Clark says, spinning around in his chair. That small frown is back again, finger pointed in her direction. “You were seeing an informant Friday night… you couldn’t come to karaoke. You could have told us you had a date, you didn’t have to lie.”
The worst part is that he sounds wounded. Not from the possessive sort of place so many other men would speak from - Clark isn’t like that. His crush on her is evident and perhaps also requited if she lets herself think of it from a purely physical standpoint (ignoring the part of her that wants to do whatever possible to smooth out the wrinkles on his face). Lois is a reporter, she is paid to notice and speak about the things people try to hide. She is well aware of why Clark lingers around her longer than Jimmy does or why he is always the first to turn an invitation in her direction or hesitate on answering one until he’s heard from her. She could understand if he were hurt to hear she was dating someone other than him, but that isn’t why Clark is upset.
He is simply sad she might have chosen to lie about it.
Which for the record, she hadn’t. She was meeting an informant. Not that she owed Clark that kind of assurance, however. (Despite how readily the words sat on the tip of her tongue.)
“Oh no, Sweetie.” Cat coos sweetly, although her leering gaze is anything but, “Lois doesn’t date. Or at least, not the way you’re thinking.”
Which isn’t strictly true. Lois had dated. Her last relationship had ended three years ago. It was two years long. It had been going well - or so she thought. They both had demanding jobs. She worked at the Daily Planet, he was busy climbing the ranks in the military, stationed at the barracks just outside of Metropolis. It was her longest relationship because they saw each other so infrequently.
Then, he ended it, because, and she quotes; ‘you’re too erratic’, ‘you’re too argumentative’, ‘you prioritise your work over us. Sometimes it feels like you’re thinking more about your next headline than you are about me’.
Lois wasn’t and to this day still isn’t the type of person to beg or plead. She’d accepted those statements for what they were – an ending. With how much she had to give herself over to her job, she didn’t have the mental capacity to be second-guessing herself constantly and wondering if she was being enough or too much at any given moment.
However, she couldn’t resist pointing out how some of his complaints were contradictions of one another– how could she be erratic and too focused on her work all at once? They were rather incongruous statements.
Jackson had thrown his hands up, exclaiming “This is exactly what I’m talking about!”
Lois had bit her tongue, managing to restrain herself just a little bit. Out of the two of them, he was the one who had begun this dialogue to begin with, he was the one raising his voice and he was the one who didn’t like how readily she’d given up on them once he’d spoken his mind– if anything, she would say he were the argumentative one between them.
Her dad had done well at mourning the loss of Jordan while being supportive of her. He had been the first of Lois’ boyfriends that her father had fully approved of, happy to see another military man taking care of his ‘little girl’ and pleased to be able to hold a conversation with him about tactical logistics and the benefits of long redundant technology. Her dad didn’t say a single word about them trying to ‘make it work’, clapping her on her back and telling her he was sorry. It was good enough.
Her mom on the other hand was more righteous in her comfort, driving home to Lois that ‘the right man– or woman, I don’t judge!-- will be able to cope with those things and will seek resolutions rather than just quit’. Lois was smart enough to keep her mouth closed once again and refrain from telling her mom that it was her who’d given up rather than work it out. ‘At your age, heartbreak can feel like the end of the world, but you’ll find someone. Don’t worry.’
And Lois didn’t.
She was content alone– Jordan had been right. Her work fulfilled her enough to not need a relationship, and she was lucky enough that the male population of Metropolis was just as unbothered about commitment as she was so she could still get other needs met as and when.
“Lois also doesn’t like talking about her personal life at work.” She interjects before Clark can question what Cat actually means. He’s looking between them curiously, half ready to speak again– sniffing and pushing up his glasses to get a better look at her, preparing for an inquisition. Working together for as long as they have now, Lois knows his tells. “You never know what could end up in the paper.”
Creeping up to her desk, Cat sighs dreamily. “Like your airlift from Superman. Wish we could have featured more of that in the paper.”
Lois rolls her eyes. “Need I remind you I was concussed. Any recollection of those events wouldn’t have stood up against any scrutiny and I didn’t have any way of taking notes. Since, you know, airlifted.”
“Clark never takes notes when he interviews Superman.” Cat points out.
“If we’re basing our journalistic integrity off of Smallville's work then this paper is going downhill fast.”
“It’s okay to admit you’re jealous of my memory, Lois.”
Her eyes immediately jump over to Clark. His attention has moved away from the rest of the group and focused so entirely on her.
“Is that right?”
“Well, good journalists don’t need to lie.” He shrugs. Behind his glasses his eyes are bright and playful. He’s baiting her. It is a dare that she feels herself rising to, the same surprised smile that always appears when Clark Kent bites back creeping on to her face.
Her teeth catch on her lip, wondering if maybe there is a double meaning behind his words, wondering if he was asking something else and– No. Simple as she may keep her dating life, she couldn’t go there with Clark Kent because he wasn’t the type to one-and-done. He was the high school sweethearts, meet the family, marry in a barn type. She couldn’t lead him on like that.
“Superman’s saved me too.” Jimmy says, briefly saving her from herself. “I don’t think Lois’ rescue would have been as scandalous as anyone thinks.”
“He didn’t carry you to the hospital though. ”
Steve groans loudly. “Can we focus up here people! The important stuff, my tickets! Who’s covering this game for me?!”
Despite her own logical thinking– that attempting to date Clark Kent would only end poorly– her actions say something entirely different. “I will.”
Jordan might have been right about her actually. She might just be a little erratic. Unpredictable. A little too much. Because there is a very stupid plan forming in her head right now.
The stunned silence lingers for only a second before Steve is gratefully stuffing the tickets into her hands, kissing her closed fist around them and ignoring the scowl that takes over Lois’ face and rushing off before she can take the offer back.
Jimmy eyes her hesitantly. “You good or like… invasion of the body-snatchers?”
‘I don’t have plans this weekend. That’s all.”
“Suuureee.” He replies, slowing spinning back to face his own computer.
There is one or two more glances thrown her way but she ignores them, opting to continue down the road of her terrible no good, very bad idea as she moves over to Clark’s desk, leaning against the divider and holding the two tickets up into his view. Clark twists his chair to follow her the entire way, eyes never leaving her.
“You don’t know baseball at all.” He says simply. “Your dad’s into golf.”
It is this kind of attention that he pays to her that causes warmth to spread low in her stomach and rise up into her cheeks– if she were the sort of person to blush that is.
“And you love baseball.”
“I do.”
“Pa Kent got you into it.”
“He did.” Clark nods.
“Ravens are set to win?”
“Not a chance.” He laughs, pride seeping into his voice. It brings a smile to her face with how uncontainable his emotions are.
“Should have known you’d pick an underdog.” She huffs, joining him in his laughter. “Wanna come with? You can tell me if there’s anything notable I need to be writing about.”
Clark pauses. His eyes drop to the tickets then to the floor. In his lap his fingers curl and uncurl. When he looks back up to her face his bottom lip is being worried between his teeth. “Like… an informant?”
Bad idea. Terrible. Stop, Lois. Think. Be smart.
Although… If she was too committed to her job, wouldn’t it make sense that dating someone from work be the solution to her woes?
No. Not when it’s her friend. Not when it’s Clark– The sight of his face, sharp jaw and cheeks all made softened by how fucking sweet he looks and how under that she knows that he can give it as good as she can when he’s prompted and when he’s not underestimated, whatever compulsion had led her to taking the tickets seeps out of her.
See. Erratic.
“No, Clark.” she says, forcing out another laugh. “As friends.”
And because he is Clark fucking Kent, he still smiles brightly and nods. He wasn’t disappointed. Just happy to spend time with her. Whatever hope he’d been holding for the outcome was not squashed.
Lois returns his smile knowing she’d done the right thing– she couldn’t be the one to ruin him.
When she arrives, Clark seems– taller. He is still standing trying to hide his six feet something frame behind hunched shoulders and low eyes but wearing blue jeans, a flannel and an old Ravens cap, he seems more comfortable in himself, bringing him up to new heights.
It is… nice to see him so at home in himself for once. It is easy to imagine him doing this on a weekend in his hometown. It brings a smile to her face, thinking that she’s gotten a glimpse into knowing him just that little bit more, despite him already being an open book to the world.
Even if he is making Lois feel as though she is dressed for the wrong occasion in her waistcoat, shirt and pants.
“You’re dressed for work.” He says in lieu of a greeting. “Not that you don’t look lovely, but– you wear this to the office.”
“Well, we are here for work. I know it’s hard to imagine what Steve does as ‘work’ but it’s true. He’s paid for it. It’s official business. These are press passes we have.”
Clark shakes his head. The mop of curls that are peeking out from underneath his hat do their best to move with the motion– even somewhat tamed, they have a life of their own. It would be charming if he didn’t keep his hair in an unruly mess all of the time. ‘It’s unkempt’, as her mom would say. “I’m aware, but this is also a baseball game. If you’re gonna write about it,” His eyes start to twinkle, daring her like he always does, “if you want to give the real story at the heart of this then you need to immerse yourself. For authenticity's sake.”
Lois narrows her eyes, head tilting. “You want me to get a foam finger or something, Kent?”
“Heck yeah, I absolutely do, Ms. Lane.” He replies with a blinding smile that scratches at her brain. She can sense a lead, but has no idea what case to attribute it to. Clark Kent often has her feeling like this.
It is in her confusion that Clark manages to wrangle her into buying a foam finger and a T-shirt. She deliberately picks out the opposing team’s merch, but he had only grinned, holding out a hand for her to shake. “May the best team win.”
And in one sentence alone, Clark Kent gets her to care more about baseball than any movie, ex or co-worker ever has before.
By the end when they’re perched outside the stadium, each with a hot dog in hand, Clark glances over to her. His hat is now twisted around, more of his curls free and still looking as ridiculously charming and even more himself than he had earlier in the day.
“You know, I’m kind of surprised you’d never been to a game before. You got pretty into it.”
Lois shrugs, “Mom was more into the Arts. I’ve been to the Opera and Ballet more times than I can count.”
“And your dad?” He prompts gently.
“The General didn’t have the time to take us to games as a kid. Any weekend he did have free he preferred to take them on the green.” Lois pauses. “He’s better now. Retirement.”
Clark hums, still watching her. He is always watching her. As a reporter, she is used to being the one who notices everything. It has never occurred that someone might want to study her in return. She shifts uncomfortably, remembering Jordan’s – and so many other people’s comments – realising that what she’s shared reveals more about her than she would ever like anyone to see. Somehow Clark Kent makes it a second nature, pouring his open vulnerability into her.
“You have his dedication.” He says.
Lois tries to laugh it off, tuck the comment away and pretend the things she’s said aren’t nearly as important as they are. “For better or for worse.”
“I think for the better.” He says so earnestly that Lois actually wants to believe him. “You don’t need me to tell you, but you’re a talented writer, Lois. The city, heck, the world is better off for having someone like you being as dedicated to this job as you are.” Clark pauses, eyes finally leaving hers as he grows contemplative, looking to the ground. Instinctively, Lois leans forward. It is a rare instance to see their resident Farm Boy be so guarded. There is an urge within her to shield him from whatever is clawing at his mind to make him so.
“Too much would go unsaid without you.” He finishes.
The quiet hangs between them. Lois doesn’t know what to make of him like this. Clark is quiet. He is unassuming and unobtrusive, but he is not– afraid of himself. He speaks his mind too often to be caught up in his own head. It doesn’t suit him.
After a few more moments, Lois nudges her shoulder against his. “Penny for your thoughts, Smallville?”
His lips quirk and he glances at her sideways, their eyes meeting just past the frame of his glasses. Her fingers twitch, wondering what he might look like without the dark frames taking up so much of his face. Just smooth skin and good bone structure.
He inhales then straightens up. “Can we walk? I want to show you something.”
Lois nods, throwing the remains of her food away with him and dusting her hands off. As soon as she’s able, she touches Clark’s arm gently, meeting his eyes to check he’s okay. He only smiles warmly at her and nods.
As they walk, he clears his throat. “I thought when we first spoke, you might be asking me on a date.”
Her footsteps falter, heart stuttering in her chest. “Clark, I– Considered it. But. No. I’m not good at relationships. It would–”
He stops and touches her arm in return. His grip is comforting, not an ounce of hurt or ache in his expression. If anything he looks hopeful despite her blatant rejection. It is enough to make her wonder if she hadn’t been clear enough, but if there is anything that Lois Lane is, it is blunt. He looks around and then pulls her gently into a nearby alley, placing them in front of an empty delivery entrance to the side of the stadium. The sound of the crowd has quietened, only few other stragglers from the day passing by the entrance of the alley.
“No, no. I understand. That wasn’t– I’m not disappointed by today at all. I had a lovely time, Lois. Really. I mention that, because well– I couldn’t expect you to want that when I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
The idea that Clark Kent could have it within him to tell a lie doesn’t compute, forcing a laugh out of Lois until he steps back and removes his hat, removes his glasses and Clark Kent is no longer standing in front of her.
Superman is there instead.
But. Clark hadn’t stepped away.
Clark Kent was there. Superman was also there.
Because.
Clark Kent was Superman.
“What the fuck?!” She shouts, catching herself at the last second and lowering her voice, ripping his hand from his hands and forcing it back on to his head. “Are you fucking insane?”
“Lois, please– I’m sorry to have lie–”
“I do not care! You can’t just show me that. You can’t just do that in public. What if someone saw–”
“No one’s here. I would have heard them. Lois, please–” Clark tries to say, his hands going back to her biceps as he tries to placate her, but Lois’ mind is spinning and she needs distance. She steps away, beginning to pace. She is half tempted to run out of the alcove all together and head home. This is surely a symptom of dehydration or exhaustion or– something, except when she turns back, Clark is still there and Superman is also still there.
And it hits her.
He would have heard them. Because he’s Superman. And he has super hearing. And he’s just revealed his secret identity to her and all it took was him taking off his fucking glasses.
“Oh my god!” She hisses again, hands coming to her face. More words escape her mouth, a long list of expletives about his audacity an his stupidity, how dangerous it is to just show her this in the middle of a parking lot and no, it doesn't matter that they were actually in front of a service entrance and weren't literally in the middle of the parking lot. The tangent begins to jump from his actions today to the realisation of how many o his interviews no longer hold up under the feeble integrity they had before - that she had co-signed her name to a few of them.
'Erratic'.
“Lois, I’m sorry.”
She spins and points at him. “Stop apologising.”
A beat.
Clark grimaces. “Sorry.”
She knows his tells. Clark is not baiting her at this instance, but dealing with him and his-- his niceness is tiresome. Backed into a corner, it is her gut response to fight. Presented with opportunity, it is her nature to grab at it and dig until she has something of substance which she can understand and dissect. People do not typically enjoy when she pokes and she prods. Having him be so polite has her on the backfoot, exhausted and heaving breaths as she tries to find the right words to get her back into a place where she feels in control. “Do you know how insane it is to just– tell me this?”
'Argumentative', a voice whisper condescendingly into her ear. While Clark on the other hand is unperturbed by her question, taking it in his stride. “I didn’t like lying to you, and I don’t think it’s fair to make my feelings known for you without giving you the whole truth. You can’t decide how you feel about me without that.”
Honesty is something she values above all else. Something so few people offer her because they fear how much she'll pull. Lois forces herself to ignore the flutter that starts to storm in her stomach at his words. Focused. Stay focused, Lane. “What if I went to Perry? I should go to Perry.”
Clark snorts, soft but audible, a noise that surprises himself before he brings a finger up to his lips, quietly apologising. “Sorry. It’s just– you’re using a lot of ‘what ifs’ and ‘shoulds’ not telling me anything you’re actually going to do.”
Lois frowns, freezing in place to stare at him, partially offended he would think she could ignore something of this magnitude. Almost appalled that he could see her as anything other than her job. “And why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I’m telling you.” He says so fucking simply that it drives Lois insane. It leaves her feeling all too seen by four little words. Anyone else that’d gotten that close to her, people like Jordan had been frustrated by her. There was nothing simple about it.
“But why me? Why now?” She asks, quieter this time as some of the fight leaves her body.
“Because I trust you. You value the truth and I want to share that with you.”
Staring at him, it is possible to see the difference in how he holds himself now. The secret he has been holding in must have been literally weighing him down, acting as part of the armour that he uses to disguise himself. He is stood at his full height, oversized clothes doing nothing to hide who he is now, his glasses folded careful in his palms and somehow he still looks soft and gentle. He looks like someone she could trust in return– someone that she already does, able to share things about her life that she wouldn’t normally dare speak about at work.
“You’re an ass.” She says for lack of anything else. For a wordsmith, she can’t quite find the right way to phrase her emotions. They are too jumbled, conflicting and uncertain as desire gnaws at her rational thought which is quickly fading to the background.
Clark doesn’t get a chance to finish the apology that is no doubt building at the back of his throat before her mouth is on his. His hands find their way to her hips, firm and warm. She can feel those glasses pressed against her belt. His body is solid and folds over her. He chases after her lips when she pulls back and his eyes are blown wide when they finally separate, staring at her like she was the one who had completely shifted the course of their afternoon, not him. Not Superman.
“I’d really like to take you on that date.” He tells her, voice low and rough. He sounds gutted and it sends a thrill through her, knowing that she has done this to Superman.
“I’m really not good at relationships.” She replies because he had been honest with her, so she feels he owes him that in return.
“It is very hard to imagine a single thing you’re not good at, Lois, but we could just take it one at a time. See where we end up.”
She thinks to what her mom had said; ‘ the right person won’t just quit ’. If she is going to expect that from someone else, maybe it’s high time that Lois give that sort of thing a try too.