Almost Partners (Chapter Seven)

Her skirt hit the floor and his jaw seemed to join it. "Uh..."

He could bend steel. He could stop a locomotive in its tracks. Surely he could stop himself from this.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the door at his back. He'd started this. There was no longer a handy alter ego to blame. Kal had been dispensed with on a long ago night in Maine.

He'd done this. The temptation had been so close to the surface. He could push it down when he was sober. He could talk himself out of the many things he wanted to do to her--and wanted her to do to him. But the drug that was red K... It made everything seem so possible, reasonable even. Why not take her to bed? Why not take what he wanted?

But, while sober, he knew why. It would be based on lies and misinformation and she would hate him for it if she ever became whole again. He'd be taking advantage of Lois the same way Kal took advantage of Chloe.

"Lois, I really think we should talk." He opened his eyes. She was right in front of him.

"Clark, we talked before. I agree. We're grown-ups. We can handle this." She bit her bottom lip and her hands slid down his stomach. "You want to. Or is that just..."

He grasped her wrists before she could touch his belt. "I must have had too much to drink at the party," he lied quickly. "I'm so sorry for trying to take advantage of you." There was the bait. He just hoped she'd take it, turn this around, say "How dare you!" and slap him. Because it was getting harder to stop this.

She smirked. "Good one. Me, too. I'm just so drunk, I'll hardly remember this tomorrow." She leaned up and kissed his jaw. "No consequences," she whispered.

He gritted his teeth. Somebody up there was punishing him.

Either way, she'll hate you. What's the difference if it's now or later? Why not just...

He let go of her wrists and moved to the side and away. "I can't," he said, backing away from her.

She turned to fully face him. "You can't?" She looked down at his fly again. "But I thought you were... I..." She looked into his eyes, her brows drawn together. "Oh... I'm sorry, Clark. I didn't know."

"No! Not can't." He winced. He possibly should have taken that one. That would have been an out, but not one his pride could take. "I mean that we shouldn't. It would be wrong. Like you said."

"Uh-huh." She folded her arms and stared at him. "Of course, that was before you broke me down and now you're... What? Having attacks of conscience?"

"Well, yeah. I..."

"It's sex, Clark. We weren't plotting murder or bank robbery, here." She looked down, looking suddenly vulnerable in her bra and panties. "If you're having second thoughts because your beer goggles have suddenly come off, then..."

Oh, God. She can't think... "It's really not that, Lois." Really. He took a deep breath.

"Then what?" She looked up and lifted her chin. "You're the one who started this. One minute, you're all over me and now you can't get far enough away!" She spread her hands. "You can't just run hot and cold on someone. You can't..." She stared hard at him. He stared back, not sure what to say. Not the truth. But what lie would hurt the least? She suddenly looked away. "You know what? Fine." She turned on her heel. "I'm going to bed. We can just pretend this never happened."

He clenched his fists at his sides. This wasn't fair. This was such complete bullsh*t. He rushed into his room and changed hurriedly, speeding into his suit. He needed to get out. If he was too near her, he might...

He shouldn't even think about it. He hadn't patrolled in too long. He'd hardly been able to. He had to be Kent Cameron to the neighbors. He had to be Clark Kent for Lois. There was no time for Superman.

He stopped in the doorway. She was in her room. He could hear rustling, muttering. She was probably undressing more fully...

He had to get out.

Once over the city, he waited. He was waiting for perspective. If he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, then why didn't he just do? When she was whole again, she might be just as angry that he left her that way.

Then again, if he was truthful, leaving things that way hadn't just been what she needed. It had been about what he needed. He wanted her. But he didn't want a quickly forgotten one-night-stand between stressed out coworkers. Whatever she'd once felt for him, it wasn't the same now. Now he was a hick coworker she'd barely tolerated all this time. If all she felt for him was attraction...

He felt his cape billowing against his arm. Superman had her respect, her admiration, her damn near idolization. Clark had her... tolerance and some measure of attraction. He wanted her to feel for him what she had. He didn't want it this way. Not as some side fling to work off frustration. He'd done that to her for too many years.

You did use her. Now she wants to use you. Why shouldn't you return the favor?

Why? Because they'd be trapped in the same cycle when they could be so much more...

The streets were full of young adults, drinking the night away. He cruised over alleyways, just waiting for something, itching for something to do.

He found it at Third and Chestnut. One man, one girl, and dubious consent.

He lowered, thinking of another girl, another alleyway and the many ways he'd broke her down...

**************************

He touched down outside the master bedroom. The lights were off. It would be so easy to slip in there now and take advantage of the situation he'd created. How easy it always was when he was Kal- for both of them. Those were moments when they were stripped down to just raw feeling. Reality complicated things. In reality, he wanted to be with her, not in a situation created by red K or her having had a little more wine than she should have. Could he be with her at all, considering the situation that really was?

He was just selfish enough, but he wanted it to come from something right, not something wrong.

He could resist.

He took his key from his boot and let himself in. He could speed through quietly and not wake her if he...

"Superman?"

He froze, the door halfway closed. Couldn't have used x-ray first, you idiot? He turned and closed it, trying to stand straighter. "Yes. Hi, Lois."

She was sitting in the dark at the dining table, wearing flannel pajamas. She glanced at his hand. "You have a key to the house?"

"No," he said quickly. "I found it outside. I think... Clark must have dropped it. I saw him out running."

She nodded. "He would be running." She laughed. "And he would be dropping things. I've learned that about Clark. Apparently, he does that." Her speech was slurred. He saw the empty wine glass in her hand. "Dropped me like a hot potato and ran away." It was mumbled, but he heard it.

"I just thought I'd drop it off," he said, trying to sound even instead of awkward. Awkward was Clark's game.

She stood and the chair scraped backward. "Well, don't just run off. You're just in time for happy hour." She looked up, giggling. "Of course, it's after one and happy hour is usually at five or something. I don't know." She waved her empty glass and set it on the table. "I'll get you a glass."

She started for the kitchen. "No." Her expression looked hurt. "Thanks, but I don't drink."

She laughed and sat back down. "Of course you don't." She tipped the bottle and sloshed some wine into her glass. "You're just perfect like that. Not like me." She winced. "I'm sorry. I... I don't mean to be rude. I've just had a bad night. It's not your fault."

Clark knew what was wrong. But Superman didn't. And leaving her now would just be... "Do you want to talk about it?" He moved to the table and took the chair across from her. Superman would listen, even if Clark already knew what the problem was.

"I won't bore you. It's not even that big a deal. I just..." She stopped, twirling the stem of her glass between her thumb and forefinger. She suddenly looked across at him. "Do you date?"

He pursed his lips. How the hell was he supposed to answer that one? And why was she asking? He felt it again, the sort of resentment he had for this suit and cape and who they made him. That and how they made her feel. "I don't," he finally said. "It probably wouldn't be fair to... her."

"I don't see why. I bet plenty of girls would love to say Superman's their boyfriend." She grinned. "In fact, the National Enquirer has a few ladies claiming the privilege. I'd run a statement for you, but who believes that rag, anyway?"

He looked down. "Thanks for the thought, though."

"I just... If you don't date, then you probably can't help with my little dilemma."

He stared at her. Was this... not about him? Him meaning Superman? "I could try," he suggested, not knowing if this was ethically sound. But he had to know...

"Okay." She leaned forward. "There's this guy. And he seems like..." She searched the ceiling a moment. "Sometimes he seems just about too good to be true. Then other times... I don't know. He's still not a bad guy, just kind of... twitchy with me." She laughed. "I probably shouldn't even be thinking about him, but... I can't stop. When I first met him, he seemed like this doofy hayseed type. Then he turns out to be... Well, he's smart and funny and sweet and..." Lois smiled sadly. "I thought he had this crush on me."

He suddenly felt as if his entire being softened. Were her feelings for him really still in there? Even without the wipe, they'd seemed so far gone.

"Maybe it wore off," she went on. "I don't have too many dating memories. Too many anything memories," she added in a mumble. "Maybe I wear off easy. I mean, me." She shook her head. "Stupid. What was I thinking? I'm not exactly crawling with men. I don't even have a real social life outside work."

"But you're..." And what did Superman know about it? Clark knew how he felt about her. Shouldn't Clark be having this conversation? Was it even wise to have this conversation? "I think," he began carefully. "That you're overthinking things. Maybe you should just trust that things will work out the way they should." He wanted to trust in that--more than anything.

"Can't help it. I'm an overthinker by nature," she mumbled, leaning heavily on her hand. "And optimism? So not my thing."

"Maybe you should just get to sleep then and..."

"And everything will be fine in the morning?" She yawned. "Sounds like a platitude. Don't be that guy."

He chuckled. He had to. He was that guy. He was even raised by that guy. He stood and came around the table. "Come on."

"I'm not tired," she mumbled, laying on her arms.

"Yes, you are." He picked her up. She didn't protest. Her eyes were nearly shut.

"This is my first time getting interviewed by Superman, you know."

"How about that?" he said, smiling as he carried her to her room.

"I'd tell Clark, but I'm never talking to him again."

He didn't believe that for second. The day she stopped talking would be the day Lex Luthor became the president of Hair Club For Men. He smiled and laid her on the bed.

"Superman?" she whispered, looking blearily up at him.

"Yeah?"

"You and Clark could be brothers, you know." She sighed softly and her eyes closed. He was nearly frozen in fear. Had she already put it together? If anyone could...

She snored softly and he sagged in relief. He drew the covers over her and stood there, watching.

If they could never make her whole again... what would happen? Could he love her this way?

The answer was obvious. He could.

But should he?

That was the question that had him tossing all night.

******************************

He didn't know who was in a worse mood that morning. It could be him, who spent half his night wondering what the hell the future would bring for them if he never got her back. That and tense because she was twenty feet away and, after the night's events, his physical state was still pretty dire.

Then again, Lois probably had this one in the bag. Not just because of last night's rebuff, but the half-bottle of Chardonnay she'd consumed. He glanced at her in her dark suit and sunglasses. Her lips were tight and she stared straight ahead at the miles and miles of cars attempting to get either into or out of Metropolis via the freeway.

"Great idea, Clark, taking the freeway. We could be downtown by Christmas."

I never said to take the freeway, he thought, but didn't say. She'd been grasping her head or stomach and moaning all morning. He really was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, but she kept sniping. He'd let her grumble. There wasn't a thing he could do about it, anyway. He was stuck with no option except to just ignore the situation. It didn't sit right, considering the years he spent ignoring a whole other situation with her. But what could he do?

"Stupid Holidays," she muttered. "I bet you love it, though. Bet you gather round with the family and dress up like pilgrims and pick which animals to slaughter and..."

"We never raised animals for food," he said quietly. "And I'm not having Thanksgiving at home." Today she seemed back to insulting his background. It was fine by him as long as she didn't bring his parents into it.

"Whatever," she mumbled. "I'm not talking to you."

Then maybe you should try not talking to me. He wasn't stupid enough to say it, however. It was funny. The differences between him and Superman were more than just the attire sometimes. He thought clearer, acted better. Superman just wanted to help. So he did. What did Clark want? Not an entire morning in traffic with a woman who seemed to hate him all over again.

He actually wanted to go to his mom's for Thanksgiving, but he'd screwed that one up. She'd told him weeks ago that she'd been invited to have dinner with some of her book club friends. He'd stupidly told her she should go and not worry about him. Now he wished he hadn't. He was worried and edgy and he justed wanted some damned turkey and stuffing and pie.

You shouldn't have to cook just for me, Mom, his mind mimicked back to him. I'll just spend the day at my place and rest up. I'll be just fine. Have fun with your friends. Idiot.

**************************

"Happy stupid Thanksgiving," Lois mumbled. Not to Clark. She wasn't talking to Clark. She forgot that at moments, considering she hated a long drive where nobody talked. But she could take it.

She didn't have to, though. She could have arranged to go to Star City and be with Linda... if there wasn't that potluck... and if they were talking.

Clark had been especially annoying this morning, all solicitous and whispery and trying to help with her bags. They'd have to go to their respective places. Once at her place, she was planning to order everything on the menu at China Moon. Of course, she had to drop him off first. Clark had been looking at her with this obnoxious puppy dog look all morning. She'd announced she was going into the city overnight. He'd said he was, too. And that he was taking a cab. As annoyed as she was, it was stupid for him to take a cab when they were both going downtown. She'd told him so... and added an extra stupid.

Not just that, they had to leave early in case the neighbors wondered. As out-of-nowhere as her claim of going to Star City for Thanksgiving was, it was probably known. Besides all that, she was looking forward to being out of fake suburbia for a night. To be somewhere that smelled like various restaurants blended with exhaust instead of Miracle-gro mixed with pomeranian droppings.

"Which way?" she asked tersely when finally reached the Grand Avenue exit.

"Left. Um... Thanks for driving me." He was looking at her. She could feel it. What exactly was with him, anyway? He pretty much seduces her into putty, then drops her flat. Was he feeling pity? He just better not be. Or she'd drop him at the side of the road before he could blink.

She glanced over. He quickly glanced away, but she saw it. It wasn't pity. He looked annoyed. How dare he look annoyed when she was annoyed? She turned sharply and smiled to herself when he grunted and gripped the dashboard. Good. The sooner she dropped him off the better.

"Why didn't you bring a car, anyway?" she asked, again forgetting that she wasn't talking to him.

"I don't exactly have one right now."

"What?" She stopped at a red light and turned to him. "How do you even get around?"

"I walk and... stuff."

She snorted. "Right. You don't live near work. You're down here in..." She looked around her. She rolled up her window as a woman passed by on the opposite side of the street, muttering about the end being near and swatting at the air. "Suicide Slums," she finished lamely.

"Well... exactly. If I had a car, it would just get stolen, so..."

"Nevermind," she said tersely, pulling forward as the light changed. "I don't care. I'm not talking to you."

He shifted in his seat. She glanced down and saw his hand grip his knee. His knuckles were white. Was he actually mad? How dare he be mad when she was mad? She was the injured party here. She was the one who...

What? Didn't have sex? She was fairly sure she'd been not having sex for a while. It wasn't just that. And it wasn't just that he'd pretty much seduced her into it before suddenly backing off, though that steamed her, too.

It was that it was just so... impossible to stay mad at him. He was too damned polite. Maybe that was why she couldn't stop needling him. Maybe she just wanted a reaction. Any small bit of proof that last night had any effect on him.

"You're going to take a right up here," he said quietly. That bugged her, too. He'd just been mad. She'd seen it. And now he was calm as you please again.

"Fine." She took the turn, pressing her lips together tightly. At least the night had ended slightly better, from what she could remember. Superman had stopped by. Of course, that was a double-edged kind of treat. Along with every woman in Metropolis and probably a good number of men, she had a thing for Superman. It was silly. It was like having a thing for Johnny Depp. Everyone did it. But she'd just opened up to the idea of someone a little more attainable when that someone drops her on her ass. Then Superman shows up and there's that hopeless little flutter in her stomach. Still, it was possible she preferred that flutter to this. She'd rather be hung up on Superman, crazy as it was, than hung up on stupid Clark. There wasn't even a reason to be hung up on Clark. What was so great about him, anyway?

She glanced over at him as he stared away out the window. Nothing was so great about him. He was no Superman. "By the way, Superman stopped by last night while you were out on your little late night jog. Just wanted to check in on me, considering you dropped your key."

"Uh... Yeah. It was hard to get in. I was wondering, so... I'll have to thank him."

She gripped the wheel. "Yep. He probably cared that I was sitting there, open to all predators with a key just waiting for them."

"I wasn't aware I'd dropped it. Sorry."

She didn't want him to be sorry. She wanted him to be... something else. "Oh, it's fine. We sat and talked." She couldn't remember all the details, actually, but she knew that much. "Superman is so... dependable. I bet he makes a decision and just sticks right to it." She glanced at him. "Not like most men."

"Left at the next light," he said.

She gritted her teeth. "Okay. Oh, guess what? He's single. Not that I'm saying that means anything, but... I have noticed something funny about him."

"Really?" It came out kind of high-pitched.

"Not so much that something's wrong with him. He's pretty much... Well, the whole package. But he looks in on me a lot. I just wonder what's up with that."

"Well... I don't know." He sounded a little nervous. Good. "He's around to protect and all, so..."

"It's not just that," she broke in quickly. "I just... Well, a girl notices when a guy looks at her a certain way." She shrugged slightly. "Not that it means anything, but you know..." She let it hang there.

"Oh, well Superman's probably just... concerned with the story we're doing, so... Oh, look! There's my building." She'd hardly stopped when Clark opened the door and fairly jumped out of the car, dragging his overnight bag from the back. "Thanks a lot, Lois. Bye."

Her eyes glared holes in his back as he ran up to a dilapidated building. "Big dumb... Clark!"

***************************

Clark walked past the peeling wallpaper in the hall towards his apartment, worrying. He thought, as Superman, that he was so much better at not betraying anything too... connected to her. But he'd obviously have to be more careful. Though she hadn't said a thing today, last night, she'd noticed a certain similarity in their looks. What if their similar taste in women gave even more away. He put a hand in his pocket and... nothing. Where were his keys? His key to the Cameron house was in his back pocket, but he could have sworn he'd taken his own keys off the dresser.

He sighed, staring at his apartment door, imagining them still sitting there. It would take no time at all to run back and... There was a noise. He moved closer to the door and glanced down at his bag. A robber? Should he stop them as Clark or as Superman? His hand went to the knob and... it turned.

Not a careful robber. The kitchenette was just on the other side of the wall. He stared through, creeping forward towards the...

"Mom?"

Martha Kent dropped a metal baking pan and whirled to the wall. He sped around and in. "Oh, Clark. Don't do that. I'm antsy enough in this part of town."

"Sorry." He stared at her, remembering the night she'd been robbed in this neighborhood. He lived here just because it was so bad. But she hadn't been to his place more than twice. He didn't like her being around Suicide Slums.

"Oh, it's fine," she said, picking up the pan and placing it on the countertop. "I just didn't expect you so early. It's not even nine."

"Well, we had to leave early because of the... What are you doing here?" He looked around, finally taking in the bags all over place and the giant turkey sitting in the sink. "I thought you said you were having dinner with that... Denise?"

"Danielle, actually." She moved toward him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "And you didn't think I really would, did you? You've heard me say that woman's an idiot. I only told you about the invite as a laugh. Then there you are, pushing me to it." She laughed and moved toward the sink. "You really are a dope, Sweetie." She shrugged and began spooning stuffing into the bird. "Anyway, I thought it would be fun to surprise you."

"Well.. You did that." He felt his entire body relax and he smiled, watching her shove cubed bread up a turkey's rear. She was the best.

"And this was a surprise for me. You hardly have any cookware here. I suppose you brought it to the Vista house. I brought some of my own things, but I had nothing for the candied yams." She moved away from the bird toward the counter and picked up the pan she'd dropped earlier. "Luckily, your neighbor gave me this. Nice enough young man, but is he always so... mellow?"

He sighed. "Pretty much. If it's 4C you're talking about, that pan has probably seen its share of brownies."

She tilted her head. "Huh?"

"Special brownies," he clarified, nodding at the pan.

"Oh." She gingerly placed it back on the counter. "We'll wash it twice." She stared down at her sweater. "I don't want to get anything on this. Don't you have an apron?"

"Sorry. No. But you can wear one of my shirts over it. I don't care." She could put on his best suit and play with beets for all he cared. He was just glad she was here. She started past him and he stopped her, pulling her in for a hug. "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom."

She hugged him back. "Did you really think I would spend Thanksgiving without you?"

He shrugged and pulled back. "I don't know. I mean, I know I've given you a crappy year, being gone or stupid or..."

She slapped his arms. "Oh, stop it. I love you. Even though you're a giant pain in the rear." She patted his cheek. "Now, I'll find something ratty to put on. And you..." She gestured to the bags. "Start prepping."

He smiled to himself and started unloading the various bags of produce. He hadn't got past the potatoes when there was a loud knocking at the door. He moved toward it, wondering if 4C needed his pot brownie pan back. It kind of bothered him, having a loadie neighbor, but there were worse kinds. He'd already tipped Henderson off on four meth labs in his building alone.

Pot was one thing, but meth...

He sighed and opened the door and found an angry woman and tossing something at his chest.

"There are your stupid keys," Lois sneered. "You really should stop dropping them."

"Uh..."

"No. That's all I have to say." She turned and moved down the hall, before suddenly popping back into the doorway. "Except that you could say thank you, considering I drove all the way back and I had to ask four different unsavory people before anyone even knew what floor you were on." She lifted her chin. "PS- 6B thinks you're a serial killer. Too quiet. Hmmm." She took a deep breath. "And your apartment smells like cat pee."

"I... Um..."

"No. I'm finished now." She turned again. He jumped as she came back into the frame again. "Except to inform you that, in case you missed it, I was trying to point out that Superman might actually be attracted to me -- as improbable as you seem to think it is." She poked him in the chest and he stepped back slightly. "Some men actually find me attractive. In fact, I think I'll go out tonight. Yeah." She stood, her hands on her hips. "There's a few bars open. Put on something nice and tight and meet a guy. A hot one. And have lots and lots of sex."

"Lois..."

"Whatever you happen to think, I feel nowhere near rejected because of you. In fact, I feel sooo relieved. Last night? I would have never gone through with it. You're not my type." She crossed her arms and tossed her hair lightly. "I like blonde guys. Skinny ones. With tattoos." She glanced over his shoulder and her face reddened slightly. "And, apparently, you... like older women."

"Huh?" He turned and followed her gaze. He'd nearly forgot his mom was here, wearing a ratty Smallville High T-shirt and staring open-mouthed at Lois, with all of her talk of tight clothes and sex. "Lois..."

She strode past him. "Clark didn't inform me he was seeing someone," she said to his mom.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Lois," he groaned.

"No. It's fine," she said over-brightly. "Just something I might have wanted to know. And don't worry. I just work with Clark. And even that's no picnic. I am never ever going to..."

He opened his eyes and moved toward the train wreck in the middle of his living room. "Lois, will you just..."

"You don't have to spell it out for me, Clark. I..."

"Lois, this is my mother," he burst out before she could dig a deeper hole for herself--and for him.

Lois' face went from red to pale green in seconds. "Your mother," she repeated dully.

His mother smiled awkwardly. "Martha Kent. It's..." She tossed Clark a wide-eyed glance before turning back to Lois. "It's nice to meet you."

"Lois Lane." Lois made a strange gurgling noise. Clark suspected she was trying to laugh. "I have to go."

She turned on her heel.

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