Almost Partners (Chapter Two)

He gave the pad of her index finger a lick and took it from his mouth. He stared at the tiny scrape. "There. It's not so bad." Was it insane that even her finger seemed incredibly sexy right now? He smiled at her. Not nearly as sexy as the rest of her. His eyes settled on her lips.

"You have toothpaste on your lip," they said.

He supposed they both were looking at lips right now. He raised his gaze to her eyes. "Where?"

He felt her finger move, and looked at it, but didn't let go. It was pointing to his bottom lip. "There." He kept his eyes on hers as his tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip. She was still looking at his lips.

"Did I get it?" he asked, hardly recognizing his own voice.

Her eyes didn't leave his lips. "No." He felt her right hand pull away from his and then he felt her wiping at his lip. "It's stubborn."

"Maybe I should go wash it off." But he said it in a whisper. There was a part of him that knew he should end this, but there was another part of him that wanted to push it.

"No." Her hand moved to the back of his neck and he let out a hum of satisfaction. Every touch seemed intensified. Her wrist on his shoulder, her fingers on his nape, her other hand fisted, yet sliding up his chest. And the lips that were so nearly...

On his. He let his hands slide to her waist and around. They fisted in her T-shirt and he pulled her closer. Breasts. There were breasts against him. Hard nipples that he could feel through the layers between them. He didn't want layers between them. But he could worry about that later because there were lips now. He wanted to devour them. He closed his lips around her bottom one and let his tongue dart out for a taste. She tasted like gum and the iced coffee she'd had and... her mouth opened on a gasp and he felt the softer texture of her lips just inside. And her tongue.

Her hand tightened on his nape and he felt the other join it there. A dull metallic thump from the floor broke the sound of gasping breaths and lips that sucked and tongues that stroked. He could hear it all, feel it all, so intense... He pulled her closer and let one hand slide between her waistband and the small of her back. Soft and so sweet and so... wrong. This was wrong.

He started to pull away, but her arms tightened. It's not so wrong, he thought dimly. Just a taste. What could be so wrong about that? He could feel her stomach against him, against his jeans, against his...

"Wait," he said against her lips.

"Wait for what?" she mumbled against him.

He pulled his head away. "I... can't think," he panted.

Her eyes opened and dropped to his neck. Her head darted forward and he threw his own back as lips attached to his neck. It was all too good, it had been too long. He struggled against the lust, the guilt, the ringing in his head. The ringing that wouldn't...

Her lips left his neck. "Pizza." He felt rather than heard the word against his collarbone.

Stupid doorbell. "Yeah. I'll just..." He reluctantly dropped his hands from her waist, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. He'd kissed her. Well, she'd kissed him first, but he'd done nothing to stop it, then participated rather eagerly. He shook his head and backed away. "I'm sorry."

The doorbell rang again and she stared at him, licking her lips. "Don't be. It was... nice," she finished on a breath.

He backed away. She'd said that before and a part of him wanted to give her something that couldn't be construed as nice. He shook his head again and backed toward the door. What was wrong with him? Why had he even started this? He shouldn't have massaged her, shouldn't have touched her. The sequence of events became clearer the further he backed toward the door. There was knocking with the ringing and he resolutely turned from her and towards it.

When he opened it, he saw a pizza box, but the guy holding it was no delivery boy. "Bart?"

"Hey, Boyscout! How's it going?"

His jaw dropped as Bart handed him the light box and pushed past him. "What are you..."

"I don't believe we've met." He turned to see Bart sidling up to Lois. He turned back to Clark with a wink. "Bart Allen, at your service."

Lois stared from Clark to Bart, her eyes wide. "Um... Lanie Cameron."

Clark closed his eyes and strode toward the dining table, dropping the pizza box on it. "Lois, it's fine. This is a friend of mine from..."

"Way back," Bart finished for him, taking Lois hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Lois." He kissed her hand. "Mind if I call you Loluscious?"

Lois tilted her head. "Don't I know you?"

"Don't think so," Clark said quickly, pulling Bart's arm.

"I'm just visiting from... out of town," Bart said, moving to the dining table. He opened the pizza box. Clark saw only three slices and some crusts in it. "You guys want a piece?"

"Considering we ordered it," Clark growled. "Yes."

Bart shrugged. "Well, I paid the guy for it. Just being polite. No reason to..."

"Why don't I call for another pizza?" Lois suggested, putting a hand to her head.

Clark stepped toward her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a little..." She stumbled slightly and looked down. "Mitzi's stupid pin." She picked the pin up from the floor and straightened.

Clark found his hand drifting to her back. "If it's a headache..."

She stepped close. "I'm fine. We'll talk later about the... thing."

He watched her walk away. His eyes glued to her until she disappeared into the bedroom.

"Hope you're behaving," Bart said, muffled behind him.

Clark turned to him. He was eating, of course. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up."

"What?"

"Well, it was me or Linda," Bart said, his mouth full. "Lois sends her an email saying she's going into deep cover with you and an address, even. Next thing you know, the lady's about to fly over here until I volunteered my services." He dropped the crust back into the box. "So... Are you behaving?"

"Yes," he lied. Though he knew very well, he hadn't been just before Bart came in. Maybe he shouldn't get too close to her. He hadn't been that out of his mind in... He didn't even remember how long. What had possessed him to massage her shoulders, kiss her, take her finger in his...

"You just better. Linda doesn't want you messing with her head... in more ways than one."

"She knows about the..."

"You really shouldn't tell Oliver anything. She always gets it out of him."

"I'm not doing anything yet," Clark said tightly. "Not until I find Grady."

"She's also not too happy about you two playing house."

"She should be glad we are," he hissed. "It keeps her out of Smallville and away from Lex Luthor."

"Hmm, good point." Bart sat at the table and put his feet up. "I'll bring that up to Linda."

"Maybe I should." He rubbed his eyes. He thought Linda and him had established a tentative trust. He'd talk to her. Clear this up, maybe. "Anyway, we're fine. I won't touch her." Again, he added to himself. "I'm sleeping out here."

"Good. Me, too. Well, for tonight. It'll be like a slumber party." He laughed, then looked toward the kitchen, turning serious. "I shouldn't have said that. Now I want s'mores."

"Bart, you don't need to stay here."

"I do until you talk this out with Linda."

"Fine," Clark sighed. "In fact..." He smiled. "I'll let you have the couch."

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

"No!" Lois laughed and dropped her slice on her plate.

"Seriously," Bart leaned over the table. "There I am, thinking I'm the luckiest guy in the world with this gorgeous chick and five guys in masks come in." He shook his head. "I should have known it was a set-up. She laughed at every one of my jokes. I think her boyfriend was this big time crime boss down there. They must have thought I was some rich kid because of all the cash."

"Well, what were you doing with eleven thousand pesos?" Lois asked.

"It wasn't mine. It was from Oliver, just in case I needed to..."

"Oliver?"

Clark kicked Bart under the table.

Bart cleared his throat. "Oliver... uh..." He shook his head. "I used to work for Oliver Queen," he said, ignoring Clark's glare.

She laughed. "But I know Oliver. He's married to my cousin."

"No kidding," Bart drawled. "Small world. Well... It was a while back, anyway."

"What were you doing for him in Mexico?"

"Oh, just... scoping out hotel locations. He was thinking of building one." Clark stared at the table. Bart was a better liar than he was. But this was all too close. He didn't want her remembering too much, connecting too many dots. Not until he figured out how to restore her.

Lois blinked at him. "Oh, well. Yeah. It is a small world, but... How did you get away?"

"I just... ran fast." Bart shrugged. "Come to think of it, it's not that funny a story." He sat back and looked around. "Hey! Muffins!" Clark watched him get up and move to the basket on the counter. He picked up his plate and moved toward the sink, leaning over it.

"What are you doing? You didn't have to say it was Oliver Queen."

"I panicked. Okay? I almost said Oliver Twist."

"Yes, but..." He quieted as Lois came up behind him and placed her plate in the sink. Bart smiled and moved away, unwrapping a muffin.

"I like your friend," she whispered. "Is he... um... Is he staying here?"

"Yeah," Clark whispered back. "Just for tonight. Do you mind?"

"Well, no. It's just that... Well, earlier, we..."

He stared into the sink. "I'm sorry about that. I mean, I know you're focused on your career and..."

"But you don't have to apolog..."

"And we're on a story," he cut in. "We really should stay on task, so... I'm sorry."

"Oh. Well... Me, too." He turned to see her walk away. Her back was stiff and he cursed under his breath. If she was miffed, it was only for the best. Maybe she'd keep her distance. Maybe that would make it easier to keep his.

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

"You tricked me," Bart said from his left. Clark closed his eyes and pretended he didn't hear. "This couch sucks," Bart hissed.

Clark opened his eyes and turned over on the air mattress. "Serves you right for eating our first pizza and half our muffins."

"The muffins sucked, too." Bart turned and leaned his head on his hand.

"Then go. How are Lois and I supposed to pull this story off with you hanging around?"

Bart shrugged. "Talk to Linda."

Clark sighed and glanced at the ugly triangular clock on the wall. It was two hours earlier in Star City. Maybe he would. He pulled off the covers and moved toward the nursery. He'd changed there. He pulled his cell out of his jeans' pocket and closed the door. He'd left his ringer off all day and he saw about twelve missed calls from the same number. It was no mystery who.

He dialed one and leaned against the window sill as the phone rang.

"Clark? What's going on? What's this about Grady? You can't seriously..."

"Hi, Linda," he said, cutting her off. "How are you?"

"Insanely busy with Oliver's re-election campaign and I really don't have time to wonder if you plan on luring my cousin into your tights."

"Linda, I have no intention of luring her."

"And what about Grady?"

"I'm trying to find him. I know a scientist at STAR labs in Chicago and, if anyone can figure out how to undo this..."

"What makes you think you have the right to undo anything? She chose this and..."

"She's fighting it, Linda. I can tell. Somewhere inside her, she doesn't want it. It's not healthy for her to live with these headaches and you know it."

"But how do you know that, whatever voo-doo this witchdoctor of yours does, he won't make it worse?"

"I don't. But I'm not planning on doing anything just yet. I'm just... exploring the options." He sighed. "You have to stop acting like we're on opposite sides. We both want what's best for her."

"Possibly," he was relieved to hear her concede. "But one of us has an ulterior motive."

"I'm not a factor in this. I want her whole again for her own sake. If she gets too close to Luthor, if she goes back to Smallville... Who can say what will happen?"

He heard silence on the other end. "I'm worried about that, too. But... Clark, you're sleeping in the same house with her."

"In the living room," he corrected. "On an air mattress."

"Still..."

"Linda, working on my story with me is good thing. If she's focused outside of Smallville and Lex, she's less likely to pursue it before... Well, before I have a plan." He let out a tired groan. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"History," she said, but not with any heat. "Just... keep your hands to yourself." She was silent for a moment. "And tell Bart he can stand down."

"I will."

When he finally crept back to the living room, Bart was on his bed. "Get off," he groaned. "I'm not taking that couch. I can't even fit on it."

There was a faint squeal in his ears as Bart sat up. "Oh, can't you just hover or..."

"Shh!" He closed his eyes. The squeal grew louder. It was a scream. He rushed into the nursery and opened his suitcase. It was seconds before he rushed out, changed. "I'll be back," he whispered to Bart.

"Wait." Bart stood and, in seconds, was standing before him with his shoes and jacket on. He was grinning hugely. "Can I come along?"

"I can't fly as fast if..."

"I'll follow from the ground." Bart opened the door. "I bet I'm faster than you even when you're airborne."

"Fine, just... lay low." Clark sped out and up, sort of hoping Bart wouldn't be able to keep up. Bart was a lot of fun, but a little distracting.

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

"That was so cool." Bart laid his head back on the roof of the Planet's building.

Clark settled next to him, looking up at the stars. "The flying?"

"All of it," he said, sitting up. "I mean, we made a hell of a team. I just zoomed in and got the gun and the guy's all 'What the...' Then you lift him about thirty feet up, and that chick..." Bart laughed. "If I was in your position, I'd take advantage of all that... gratitude," he finished on a leer.

"Yeah, well, you're not."

"Maybe I should get an outfit. Maybe not one so..." He waved at Clark. "Trepeze-artist-like, but... I mean, I help where I can, but you might be onto something with this dual identity stuff." He suddenly giggled. "I watched you at the police station." He deepened his voice. "'You can take it from here officer.' Heh!"

"Oh, shut up."

"No. I mean, I joke around, but... You're pulling it off, Clark. Seriously."

Clark smiled. He couldn't help it. "Really?"

"Totally." Bart leaned back again. "But that chick with the purse... Mmmph! You should have made yourself scarce. I could have received a little thanks, even if you weren't interested. We all know you have your eyes on you know who. Why else would you stay so close?"

"Bart, I'm... That's not why I'm sticking around. I actually like my job. I like them both."

"Don't tell me going into deep cover with Loluscious isn't a perk. I mean, come on..."

"It's... I can't lie and say that I don't want to be around her. But... I could never be with her without her knowing. I'd feel too guilty." He stood up. "We should get back in case she wakes up and notices we're gone."

Bart stood. "Give me that special hug, Big Guy."

Clark rolled his eyes, but put an arm around Bart and leapt, letting go when they reached the ground. "You want to run from here?"

"Eh... Why don't you go back?" He shrugged. "I kind of want to sleep in my own... van."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. But tell Lolita I said goodbye. I'd ask you to give her a big kiss, but I'm sure you wouldn't stop there and then how dead would I be for leaving?"

"Oh, get out of here, you idiot," Clark groaned. Then he smiled. "Tell everyone I said hi."

"Will do, Boy Scout." He pointed a finger at him. "Behave yourself."

He was gone. Clark stared at the red blur that faded in his wake. He hadn't realized it until now, but he really was lonely. He missed having friends. He missed having time for friends. Jimmy kept offering to hit the bars with him, but how could he? What kind of friend would he be if he had to keep dashing off, making increasingly lame excuses?

He nearly wished Bart lived in Metropolis. Then he'd have a friend who understood.

He floated upward. Maybe someday, he'd find a way to share both of his lives. For now, he had to get back to the newest identity: Kent Cameron. Somehow he doubted he'd enjoy this one. Not if Bob DeLeon was his best social prospect.

He rolled his eyes and rose higher. He was torn between dragging Met Vista out to stall for time and ending the torture quickly. Nosy neighbors aside, if tonight was any indication, he couldn't get too near her without losing all control.

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

Lois lowered the camera. She was trying to get a shot of each house that had belonged to the couples. The one on Dahlia Drive was a wee bit sinister looking to her. Perhaps because its lawn and gardens had fallen into disrepair in contrast to the perfectly manicured ones around it. She could just see it on the inside page, surrounded and overlapped by smaller shots of the couples who'd disappeared.

There was a gnarled oak in front of the house. It was creepy, but she liked it. It was probably the only old thing in this plastic place. She was trying to figure out the best angle to get the house with the oak. She'd probably leave that to Jimmy. She could see them as test shots and he could get something better later. As of now, she didn't even know what kind of piece they'd write. It depended on how this went. Would they find these people or...

"Lanie..."

She wished people would not talk when she was thinking.

"Lanie Cameron. Hello."

At least not right behind her. How could she... Oh.

She turned, pasting on a smile. "Mitzi." There was another woman with her, a skinny redhead with a sweater set.

"Oh, look at you. Are you studying photography?" Mitzi nudged her friend. "I think Lanie would be a great addition to our little club."

"Club?" Lois repeated, trying to hide her horror.

"The Crafty Devils," the redhead said. "We like to share all of our home art."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Where are my manners?" Mitzi shook her head. "This is Dolores Margold."

The redhead held out her hand. "Call me Dodie, everyone does."

"Lanie Cameron."

"We'll actually be meeting at Dodie's house tomorrow morning if you'd like to come."

"Oh, well I work," she said, hoping she didn't sound too relieved to say so.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Dodie said. And Lois was afraid she meant it, too.

"See, Dodie?" Mitzie said, shaking her head. "This is the problem with meeting in the daytime. Most of these young couples have jobs. We never get fresh blood."

"Well, we had Sue Terry."

"Oh, well she was a trust fund baby. Not everyone gets to stay home these days."

Lois knew the name. It was half of the second couple. "Sue Terry?" she asked, trying to look polite, but not too interested.

"Sweet girl," Dodie said. "It's a shame she up and moved. She and David were just getting settled in. Maybe they were just broken up about the..."

"Dodie," Mitzi hissed. "Don't be a gossip."

Lois tried not to smirk. She'd bet anything that was most of what those meetings were: gossip. She almost wished she could come. "It's such a shame I can't join you."

"Oh... Well, the mornings aren't set in stone," Mitzie said. "Most of us would love to get together in the evenings. Good excuse to have a little wine."

"Now you're talking," Lois laughed. And think what would be said if these women were plied with alcohol.

"Oh, what the hey." Dodie giggled. "I can change it to Tuesday evening. I'll spread the word."

"And we can count on you?" Mitzi asked. "I'm just dying to see your origami."

"Me too," Lois said, catching herself. "I mean... For you to see it." She mentally cursed. Now she'd have a day and a half to learn how to fold paper. This was all Clark's fault, among other things... She'd had the worst sleep ever last night, filled with hazy sex dreams that were more frustrating than exciting.

"Oh, Dodie, tell her about last night," Mitzi urged.

"Oh, yes." Dodie leaned in. "I had to take my Georgie out last night. He always piddles at midnight." Lois hoped she was talking about a dog. "And I saw him."

"Him who?"

"Superman." She grinned. "I've never seen him up this way before and he was just... everything I thought he'd be. And those tights..." She fanned herself.

"Oh, I wish I'd seen him," Mitzi sighed. "Maybe we should encourage more crime around here. I could do with a bit of him flying around."

Lois smiled and it wasn't fake this time. She had an inkling as to why Superman was making an appearance in mock suburbia. When she left the women, she was still smiling. Superman was checking up on her. Maybe even on Clark.

She floated into the house, still grinning. She saw that Clark had put his bed away. He'd been sleeping when she'd got up, his glasses askew. She'd thought of taking them off, then remembered she was mad at him for... Well, it was hard to be mad anymore. In fact, Clark was right. They had a story to focus on. It wouldn't do to slip up, give Superman a real reason to drop in... Or maybe it would. She shook her head and giggled to herself.

"Morning." She jumped and turned to see Clark at the dining table. He was typing on his laptop. "I've looked around the house, but they seemed to have cleaned it up pretty well when they redecorated."

So he wasn't going to bring up the thing. Fine. She wouldn't, either. "I wonder what the previous couple would think of their redecoration?"

"Not much, I guess."

She strolled over. He was wearing a large shirt and sweatpants. Both were a little loose. Not like last night when he... She didn't let her mind go there. The story was what was important here. "I need to email these pics to Jimmy. I don't feel like starting up my laptop, so..."

"Oh... Sure." He stood, taking his coffee with him.

She settled herself in the chair and tried not to look at him too much. It was enough to be fantasizing about Superman. The fact that she was about to add Clark to the mix said that her dream sex life was possibly out of control. "I'll email them from your address, since it's open."

"Sure. Did you eat?" she heard him ask.

"No. I had coffee."

"Yeah. Thanks for making it. I could... reciprocate. Make some eggs. Or maybe french toast..."

"Whatever you want to do," she said, keeping her mind on plugging the camera into his usb port.

"Lois, if you're upset about last night..."

"No. You were right, Clark. We should focus on the story. Last night was just... something that happened." First he kisses her, then she kisses him. What was with her, anyway? Seeing him now, fumbling with a skillet and sneaking glances at her... He seemed so dorky. There were other men, stronger men. "Besides, we have new developments."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. I'm joining The Crafty Devils." She looked up and smiled. "Now I can exchange home art ideas with Mitzi and the girls. Yay."

He took some eggs from the fridge and a loaf of bread. "And why would you do something like that?"

"Well, I'll be bringing wine, of course. You know how loose-lipped people can get." She shouldn't have mentioned lips. It brought up his. She never thought Clark Kent would have the kind of lips that could make a girl forget her story... She concentrated on uploading the pictures. "We also had a late night visitor."

"Well, Bart had to leave early. He said to say goodbye..."

"Not him. Though it's good to know he found his way home. We don't need more distractions." She typed in Jimmy's email address. "I'm talking about Superman. Now what would he be doing around here late at night? Hmmm." She looked up at a loud bang.

"Sorry," Clark said sheepishly, picking the large skillet up from the floor. "Um... maybe you were right. Maybe he's looking out for us."

"Well, it's good to hear you admit it." She saw the bar stretch across the bottom of her email. "I got some shots of the houses. I'm sure Jimmy can take better ones when this is all over. I'm just sending him the ones I want him to..." A small screen popped up. And instant message from "RedH0tLady24."

You being a good boy? it asked.

For a moment, she wondered if Clark had some kind of chatroom sex fetish.

Because I will kick your ass, Smallville.

She knew that screen name. She knew that typing tone, even.

Linda? she typed tentatively.

Who else, Dummy?

She looked up at Clark. He seemed intent on whipping eggs with milk. She felt sneaky, but... What was he doing getting IMs from her cousin, anyway?

How do you mean "being good"? she typed, hoping it was the right thing.

By keeping your farmboy hands off my cousin. Bart verified you were sleeping in the living room, but I still have my suspicions...

She stared at the screen. So Linda knew Bart. Apparently, Linda knew Clark on an IM basis. And Linda, apparently, had some vested interest in... What? Whether she and Clark slept together? She wasn't sure who to be mad at... at least not without more information.

I promise to behave, she typed, hoping Clark wouldn't come over until she got to the bottom of this. Why are you so invested, anyway?

She waited, tapping the space bar lightly.

Are you kidding? Do I need to remind you of how you jerked Chloe around?

Her eyes widened. She knew Clark had lived in Smallville. She knew Chloe had lived in Smallville. But she'd never really put it together until now. Had they been involved?

Please. Remind me, she typed, staring hard at the screen.

Don't get cute, Clark. The only reason I'm even a little okay with this is that it keeps her away from Lex and Smallville.

She looked up at Clark, then back at the blinking IM. Why the hell would Clark and Linda be conspiring to keep her away from Smallville?

I've been thinking about that, she typed, her mind working furiously. Do we really need to keep her away from Smallville and Lex?

Have you gone crazy? What about the headaches? What if she saw too much?

She didn't reply. She couldn't think of what Clark would say. She was still shocked that her cousin and Clark were even in contact.

Look. I gotta go. But just stick to the plan. Find Grady before pulling anything stupid. Bye.

A bold red script said RedH0tLady24 had signed out. She closed the window and stood quickly. Too quickly. She felt light-headed. She sat down heavily and breathed deep. The headache was coming. She wouldn't take anything. She'd just breathe.

She didn't want to deal with a headache now. She wanted to think. She wanted to figure out why Clark, of all people, would be talking to her cousin. Part of her wanted to confront him with it right now. Another part wanted to lie down. She listened to that part. She stood carefully and closed the laptop. She started away from the table.

"I'm almost done," she heard him say from the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure? Because..."

"Just lay off," she snapped, moving toward the bedroom.

She nearly fell on the bed, still trying to breathe deep. Concentrate, breath, focus... She closed her eyes, but she didn't see darkness. She saw Smallville.

She saw a house and a man with red hair. He said something she couldn't make out and she walked away. She moved up a set of stairs toward raised voices that die down as she approaches. A closed door. Someone is crying. Someone else is speaking softly. It sounds like Linda. She wants to move toward the door, but her body isn't listening. It's looking at pictures on the wall.

There was one of a grinning blonde girl holding a paper. She couldn't see the face, but the image made her sad somehow. Feelings of anxiety and remorse flowed through her for reasons she couldn't name. Her body turned to the door again. She saw her hand lift before a loud rumbling knocked her...

To the floor. She sat up and looked around the awful, floral room. She must have dreamt it. But why? And that word she'd heard at the end. The word that had come from her own mouth, it seemed.

"Daddy," she whispered in the empty room.

She stood and settled back on the bed. It was still bright outside. She couldn't have been sleeping long. She didn't feel as if she'd slept at all. But if that wasn't a dream, then what was it?

"What's happening to me?" she moaned.

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Chapter Three