The bullpen was a zoo on his first day back after the weekend. He'd seen Jimmy's picture of him in the morning edition as he passed the newstand. It was slanted, only getting him from the waist up and his eyes had been closed. He never did respond well to flash photography.
A part of him wanted to hide, but he decided to brazen it out. He clutched his new briefcase and straightened his shoulders. Hold your head high, Kent. Nobody will know. How could they? They had to look at him for that. No one at The Planet looked at him. He didn't remember having this problem before he'd started wearing glasses. As a matter of fact, he'd had plenty of female trouble in his time. Girls who stalked him, girls who hypnotised him, cheerleaders feeding him the kind of gatorade where the secret ingredient wasn't electrolytes. It could make a man cocky. Kal certainly had been.
But now? Well, no one really noticed just another guy in a suit and glasses. "Clark... Just the man I was looking for," a high, breathy voice said from right behind him.
He sighed and turned around. No one except Rachel Rogers. She looked at him. Not his face, though. She was a pink-drenched, blonde cupcake who looked at him like he was a scratching post and she was a cat and... Well, whatever the analogy, any close contact would end badly for him. "Good morning, Rachel."
She looked at him through lowered lashes and held out a bottle of water. "You know, I just can't get this open." She held up a well-manicured hand. "I guess I'm kind of delicate that way. I was hoping for a strong man to come along." She put a finger to her lips. She'd tried the aggressive tactics on him last week. He supposed she'd moved on to helpless in her efforts to work her way through every man in the building. Jimmy had clued him in. Maybe he should clue Rachel in that Clark didn't go for the helpless types... at least not anymore.
As if on cue, Lois sailed over, grabbing the bottle. "Just give me that." She twisted the top off and handed the bottle back to Rachel.
"Well..." Rachel took it and smiled at her. "Just when I was looking for a strong man. Thanks, Lois." She glared at her, smiled at Clark, and sauntered away.
"Thank me later," Lois said, staring at a notebook in her hands as she walked away.
Clark couldn't help it. He followed. "What are you working on?"
She turned back and glanced at him, surprised. "Don't you read this paper? What is everyone working on?"
"Um... The..."
"Superman," she said, sitting down. "I mean, you really missed it. Perry and Jimmy and I spent Saturday fielding calls and taking notes and guess who was the first paper to have the story out? Just guess."
"Lois, I know about Superman. I don't live under a rock. But congratulations. What are you doing now?" He craned his neck and tried to glance at her notes. Being this close was handy, really. It would alert him to whatever she got up to.
She frowned at her notes, then quickly covered them. "Don't even think about it, Kent."
He stepped back, shrugging. "About what?"
"Listen, I haven't forgot about your following me before. If you want to scoop me..."
"Lois," he sighed. "I was never trying to scoop you."
She leaned back and looked up at him. "Then what about all those places I saw you? And my apartment..."
"I... I was just at your apartment that night because I was... hoping you'd put a good word in with Perry White for me," He finished quickly, inspired. "I... uh... looked you up." He took a deep breath. "You kind of ripped me one and I don't blame you. It was stupid to show up at night."
"Really stupid, Kent. I was about to mace you."
"Yeah. That's why I... Tried a new way. I got a job at that fish market because I... I was hoping to get something written to bring to Perry. And I..." He pointed at her. "Like you... Well, I thought there was a connection with the thing with the... rescuings and all..."
"That was a crazy thought," she said, shaking her head as if she hadn't actually been the one who thought it.
"Yeah. I guess so."
She tilted her head. "I still have a feeling like I've seen you more than that."
He shrugged. "I can't think why."
She squinted at him and he froze. Either she was remembering or she was realizing he was the guy in the tights. "You're not so bad, Kent."
"Huh?"
"I read your article on the senior center and you really did spruce it up. You might just last two months."
"Thanks. Very reassuring."
"What can I say? You're green. You need to work on your approach. I mean, I've been doing this since I was..." She trailed off, looking away. "When did I..."
"Well!" He clapped his hands, cutting in before she could think more about it. "I'm glad you've at least realized I'm not trying to scoop you. I couldn't if I tried."
She smiled. "Glad you've caught on. Anyway, the fish vigilante... that was all Superman and, trust me, he does not smell like old fish." She smiled and turned back to her desk, tapping the notepad.
He sat down at the chair next to her desk. He wanted to ask her what she thought he did smell like, but he knew that was pushing it. "So... you've... seen him?"
"Mmm-hmm. Up close and personal. I was thinking of writing an article on just that, but I'm saving myself."
He moved his elbow to her desk. "Uh... For what?"
She turned back, grinning. "He's actually promised me an exclusive."
His elbow slipped off and he quickly righted himself. "Gee, that's just... great." Had he said that? He guessed he had. It had been hard to think with her displaying all that flesh.
She frowned at her notes. "I'm just wondering what questions are off-limits. I mean..." She turned to him. "What would you ask Superman?"
He laughed nervously. "I don't know. Why the tights?"
She smiled as she looked down at her notes. "I kind of like them. They're just so..." Her face was beet red. "Fitting. Mmmmm..."
She was thinking of him in tight clothes. She was probably imagining him naked. Last night's thoughts crowded in on him and he couldn't stop imagining her naked. He didn't have to imagine too much. He'd seen, after all.
In a not unrelated event, he put his briefcase in his lap, resolving to stop all unclothed thoughts. "Um... Maybe you should ask him about his goals and why he's doing what he's... doing. The people at LNN seem to think he's no good. You could clear a lot of that up." He'd been thinking about that. It should be obvious that he doesn't have any dark motives, yet... This wasn't a time when people trusted easily. He was almost glad for the exclusive. It could clear things up.
She rolled her eyes. "LNN's a paranoid tabloid network." She pursed her lips and stared at her notes again. "But you're right. I'll ask that about fourth."
He peeked again as she wrote. There was a margin note that said "Boxers or briefs?" Underneath that, "Nothing?" It was underlined. He swallowed hard. "What are you asking first?"
"Where the heck he came from, of course." She stood, moving toward Perry's office. "Guys like that aren't just falling from the sky," she said over her shoulder. "Better talk it over with Perry." She turned back. "He's pretty much salivating over this."
Clark stood as she walked away. Where the heck should he be from? The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he heard a scream. He looked around, but everyone was... He realized. It was his super-hearing. He shook his head as he started for the large supply closet. Now he was calling things super.
He'd been scoping out the closet last week. It was the window that attracted him to it, probably there before the area was a closet. He'd actually left from it twice, during moments when speeding out of the building seemed too risky. Now that he had to wear the outfit, it was even handier as a place he could change. There was another scream.
"Oh, my God! Trevor!"
He hurried to undress, ripping the buttons on his shirt in the process. His boots were in his briefcase and he tried to pull them on as his body tripped to the window, then quickly turned back and jammed a wedge of wood into the crack. No one short of him could get that one open.
By the time he was in flight, only thirty seconds had gone by, but it had felt like a year. And he'd left behind a ripped shirt amid a pile of buttons, the rest of his clothes strewn around. What if someone came into the closet before he was back? He had to find a better way.
****************************
"Mom!" He wiped his feet on the doormat. He was covered in dirt and dust.
"Clark!" She appeared through the screen door and opened it. "What are you doing home?"
He gestured to his boots. "Some kids were dirt-biking through the rock quarry. Idiots." He sat on the swing and took the boots off, poured out several rocks. "That's just asking for trouble. One kid got thrown off his bike and tossed up the side. Broke one arm and hung by the other from a rock that almost dislodged. Got there right in time, but..." He groaned. "I'm dusty and I ripped my shirt buttons all off and... Mom, this kind of sucks."
She came out and patted his shoulder. "I know. Sometimes you have to save idiots." She started in. "I'll find you another shirt."
He followed her in his socks. "I wanted to stay and tell them how stupid they were being, but I had to get out of there. Someone might need paper clips and I've already been in the supply closet for twenty minutes."
She turned. "What?"
"It's where I changed. This is so much easier at night when I don't have to be Clark."
She laughed and headed for the laundry room. "Sweetie, you're always Clark."
He shrugged. "You know what I mean."
She handed him a shirt from the dryer. "We'll figure this out as we go."
He took it and shook his head. "Those boots, Mom..."
"It was hard to find anything to fit those big feet. Also, something I could dye red. Just deal with the laces for now."
He frowned at the shirt. "And the shirt?"
She turned him around and pushed him to the front door. "We'll have wardrobe discussions tonight." She smoothed his hair when they were on the porch. "What are you going to do without me when you move?"
He picked up his boots. "Starve and sew buttons?"
She patted his cheek. "Get back to work. No one stays in the supply closet twenty minutes."
He smiled as he flew off, boots in one hand, shirt in the other. There had to be a better way to change. He'd figure it out.
he quickly redressed in the closet. When he stuffed his boots into his briefcase, he saw something white on the inside. He pulled it out. It was the card he'd stuffed in there the other night. Murray Takamoto.
The doorknob was turning. He hastily stuffed the card in his jacket's pocket and closed the boots and the torn shirt inside his briefcase, grabbing a box of staples before pulling the wedge from the door. Lois practically fell in. He dropped the staples and steadied her, a hand on her waist. She glanced at the door, then back at him. "What's with the door?"
"Must have got stuck." He stuffed the wedge in his jacket's pocket with the card. He bent to her side, risking one sideways glance at her legs.
"What are you..."
She had on heels with an ankle strap. He loved her in ankle straps. He straightened quickly and rattled the box of staples. "Need these."
She stared at him, then folded her arms. "Could you move? You're blocking the shelves and the copier needs toner."
"You're in the doorway."
"Oh... Well..." She stepped to the side and he moved by her. When he reached the door, she stopped him. "Your jacket's in your pants."
He reached a hand back.
"Oh, just let me fix it." He stiffened as her hand pulled at the back of his jacket. He hadn't felt it drop down and he really wished he had eyes in the back of his head. Was she looking at his...
He felt the jacket drop. "You should learn to dress, Kent."
****************************
Lois opened the side of the copier and knelt down. She'd called maintenance twice, but they hadn't come. It couldn't be that hard to shove some toner into the thing. She poked her head up and looked over the window between the copy room and the bullpen. Clark was looking her way. He turned and she ducked her head down. He was always looking at her. Whenever she happened to look over, there were those glasses.
Maybe he had a little crush. Well, she didn't have time for it. Even if the guy had the nicest, round... She turned back to the copier and gazed at the wires and panels. One of these had a giant, empty cartridge. She studied what tiny lettering there was instead of envisioning the back of his pants.
He was actually just a tiny, teeny bit... gorgeous. Broad shoulders, slim hips, pecs... She'd seen some definition even through the thick shirts and bad suits. And he had the nicest lips... But she really, really didn't have time for men.
Really? Then why were you acting like a silly adolescent girl with Superman? And why did you wear your shortest skirt? And why...
He was just a story. A really good looking story, but still... She could be forgiven a little fawning. It wasn't every day a girl was confronted with a flying man in tights. Now his body... You could see it all, clearly defined in those tights that were just so... tight.
"Little lost, Lois?"
She looked up to see Jimmy standing over her. She turned her red face front. "Just trying to figure out this copier." She was definitely not imagining those red briefs. What did he wear under something so tight anyway? She thought of her notes. She couldn't ask him. This wasn't Tiger Beat. Maybe just a closer look...
"What is so hard about it?"
"Huh?"
Jimmy shook his head and gestured behnd him. She got up and let him move in. "You just pull lever C, remove panel F and..." He took the toner cartridge from her and pulled the old one out. "Presto." He pushed it in and closed the panel.
She shrugged. "I'm a reporter, not a handy woman."
He stood and grinned. "Did you like my picture of Superman?"
"It was crooked."
He stroked his chin. "Is that why you asked the guys downstairs to give you a copy? To fix it?"
"I just need a reference point to... to..."
"Hang in your locker next to your pictures of Johnny Depp and quotes from Teen Vogue?"
"Oooh... If anyone's stuck in high school, it's you." She turned on her heel. "Imagining I have some kind of silly, girlish..."
"Crush?" He asked behind her.
"Hardly." She started from the room. "I have so much else going on with the mayor's scandal and..."
"Hi, Honey!"
"Out of town visitors," she finished lamely, staring at the woman who was nearly running to her. "Linda!" She caught the cousin launching herself at her.
"I know. You weren't expecting me. But I got a flight and..." Linda shrugged. "Well, I just really missed you and..."
"No. It's... great that you're here. My plate's a little full, but..." She pulled away and sighed. "I am happy to see you."
"I just had to come for a visit."
Lois started to her desk. "Well, good thing you came now. It'll be impossible to get a flight now that everyone's going to be flying in to see you know who."
"Oh, I just took the Bell."
Lois turned. "The what?"
"Ollie's chopper. I can..." Linda smiled. "Never mind. So..." She leaned on Lois' desk. "Got a lunch break coming?"
"Well, I guess Perry might let me take an early one. I mean, I landed the exclusive with Superman."
"Really?" Linda's smile looked a little forced. "That's great."
Lois grabbed her bag. "What exactly do you have against guys that fly around rescuing people?" She started for Perry's door.
"Nothing. It's just the..."
"What?" She turned back and saw that Linda was staring into the corner. Clark was there and he seemed to be trying to hide his face behind his phone receiver. She was surprised to see Linda fairly stomp over to him. She followed. "Linda..."
"You just couldn't stay away, could you?"
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