BANNER BY SUMMERSTARR882
Just to let you all know, I am very nearly finished with a certain Chlex fic I've been concentrating on and will soon after be devoting most of my time to finishing this bad boy.
As to this chapter, the holiday continues and our duo finally have a good, long talk.
And, as you might notice, the lovely banner above by Summerstarr is kind of a scene in this chapter. When I saw it and begged her to make a banner out of it for me, she complied and I knew I wanted to make it a part of this scene and it really warmed the thing up as it had been much more confrontational in outlined versions.
Big thanks to Silversnikle/AV for her beta services. As I take this to the finish, I definitely need someone to point out the occasional gaffe.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Chapter Six
Dinner was actually not bad.
There were a few touch and go moments, such as when Lana commented on how many times AC refilled his water glass or how little Victor was eating, though Lois knew he wasn't eating so much as pushing his food around. But these things seemed to take less and less of Lana's notice every time Bart offered her a new concoction. She seemed reluctant on the Appletini, tried to demur on the Cosmopolitan, but ended up extremely eager to try the Malibu Bay Breeze.
But Lana wasn't the only unpredictable addition to the party. There was always Linda. Linda elbowing her and telling her to sit up straight and arch her back. Linda getting slightly snippy whenever anyone complimented something Lana made and wildly lavishing praise on "the centerpieces Lois did all by herself." Linda probably bruising her shin with a swift kick when Lois tried to say that Linda did them. Linda making pointed comments about how almost everyone here had been just like family for three years now. Linda who seemed to "damn these hormones" and pat her belly with a serene smile whenever anyone, especially the increasingly inebriated Lana, glanced at her. Linda who, by the end of this night, might get a hard kick in the shins to call her very own. Lois figured that was allowed. That wouldn't hurt the baby, after all.
Aside from that, there was Clark, who Linda had maneuvered into sitting right across from her. Clark who she didn't completely know how to speak to anymore. Clark who seemed to have even less to say to her, from the way he was shoveling his food in at a rate that almost rivaled Bart -- but only almost.
But, on the whole, everyone else was... normal. And not in a boring way. Bart recited multiple Monty Python skits, playing every part himself. Though Bart insistently whispered to Lois he was cheating through some hijacked internet signal or other, Victor recited How The Grinch Stole Christmas and even did a hilarious Cindy Lou Who voice. Diana offered tantalizing, obscure bits of classic military intelligence that had Linda fascinated long enough to forget Lana was there... at times. Oliver had a way of cracking a joke that could diffuse even the most awkward moments, including the ones caused by his wife. AC's oil tanker denouncement was a bit melancholy, but not uncalled for. Lana even felt so moved as to tearily say that, just as soon as she could, she would donate to Greenpeace International.
It made Lois feel that, even without their superpowers or crazy skills, she had the most amazing circle of friends.
And gift time didn't disappoint anyone, either. Linda gave her a painfully clingy and slightly weepy hug over the scrapbook. For her part, she really loved the new laptop from Linda and Oliver and had to physically resist taking it out of the box right then. But she could wait till she got home, maybe transfer all the old files from her painfully slow PC with the external hard drive Diana gave her. But speaking of technology...
"Just loving the scarf," she said to Victor, holding up the scrap of silk nearly identical to the one he'd given every female present. She suspected Victor was a disinterested shopper at best. "But I was wondering about my other little present." She stood and nodded toward the hall. He seemed reluctant, but he followed, holding the bag he'd come in with. She pulled him to the side of the stairs. "Do you have it?"
He reached in and pulled out a CD. "I wrote this program myself. I think it's as user-friendly as possible. This should show any activity on your computer, no matter how small, for the last month at least, also retrieve deleted and recycled files. Like a system restore and," he shrugged, "I guess spyware in one."
Her eyes widened as she took it. She'd asked him about something like this, mostly to figure out what a certain Ms. Lang had been up to on her computer, but she didn't think he'd come through so quickly. "Thank you."
"Mind telling me what it's for?"
"Yes," she said, staring at it. "I mean, it might be nothing. I don't want to bother anyone about it until I know for sure."
"Well, have fun with that." Victor started to move off.
"Nice try." She stepped in front of him and held out her other hand. "Now for the real present. Hand it over."
He groaned and reached into his bag again, pulling out the bracelet. "If you could give me more time..."
"Victor, despite the thing being stuck on my wrist, it's not actually mine. I need to give it back."
"To who?"
She hesitated a moment. But this was Victor. "To Clark, if you have to know."
"Damn it," he hissed. "That... makes sense."
She leaned in. "Meaning?"
"The symbols on it... See, I didn't want to say outright that they're Kryptonian because... Well, they were similar, but different."
"Roadside souvenir, huh?" she said under her breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Clark told me he bought it at a Kawatche gift stand."
"Those caves," Victor breathed. "Damn it, Lois, if you told me this came from Clark in the first place, then it would made all this easier. I've been thinking we have some other alien running around out there. Hell, I've even been worrying about protecting Clark from it."
"I didn't want to influence your research," she said carefully. There was also the fact that he'd known Clark first and she felt less likely to get a straight answer about this if he were conferring with Clark on the side. As much as she loved the gang, they had all been in on keeping secrets from her, well-intentioned or not. "Just tell me what else you know, Victor. Please? I deserve to know after having this thing stuck on me."
He sighed. "Fine. I told you it wasn't turquoise underneath. And the stone under is crystalline in nature. I had thought it similar to kryptonite, but I've never seen this kind. It does give off low-level, non toxic radiation, but I can't figure out exactly why. It's energy spiked this one time, but I couldn't figure out how to trigger it after. It only..." He stopped, staring hard at her.
"What?" she prodded, "Only what?"
"It only happened when you were around." His eyes lit up. "And it was stuck to you. Lois, if you could come back to the Clocktower, I could rig some kind of..."
"No," she said. "Victor, I get that you're curious and I was, too." She still was, but she was also nervous. "But this doesn't belong to me and something about it..." She hardly knew how to put it, even to herself, this strange combination of possessiveness and fear that surrounded the bracelet. "I'm giving it back to Clark. If you want to toy with it more, then that's up to him. But leave me out of it."
"Lois..."
"I... I just have enough mystery in my life right now without adding haunted baubles," she said, leaning against the archway and staring up at the sprig hanging from a red ribbon. "So that's an end to that." She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, smiling as she pointed up at the mistletoe. "Merry Christmas." She kept her smile as she moved back to the living room, putting the CD down with the rest of her stash. Now for Clark... It had been tough enough figuring out what to say to him and now there was kind of a confrontation coming. She sat on the window seat and put the bracelet under the cushion at her side, wondering if it had to be a confrontation. She didn't want it to be. Not on Christmas. But he'd hid things from her. And in a time when she thought that was over.
She took a deep breath and stood. "Clark?" She glanced across the room at him, finding it a little hard to stay mad. He looked so nice in his new coat. He also had to go and smile, damn him.
"Hey." He picked his way to her over all the wrappings and empty boxes and past the others, still chattering away. He held out his arms. "So how does it fit?"
"Kind of perfectly," she said, moving closer and tugging at the cuffs to be sure. "I did have some help from your mom on measurements, just to be sure."
"It's really nice. Kind of... professional looking."
She smiled. "Well, I figure everyone should have a nice dressy topcoat," she said, adjusting his collar, "even if they don't technically need it."
"You have been bugging me about coats."
"And you have been not listening," she said, fastening the top button, "till I had to go buy you one." She stilled and took a step back, something about all this feeling sort of... disturbingly wife-like. "Anyway," she said brightly, taking her seat again. "Glad you like it." She started to reach for her eggnog on the table near them, but he grabbed it first, handing it to her, then taking one for himself.
"And how do you like yours?" He sat on the window seat next to her and she fought the urge to fidget. Something about this moment, next to him here, tucked slightly away from the chattering party, gave her the chills.
"I actually love it," she said, coming back to earth and reaching to her side to pick up the pen-sized digital recorder. She turned the box over. "But why are the instructions all in... I don't exactly know what."
"It's Hebrew," he sighed. "I kind of went on a little trip last night... or this morning for my shopping."
"Oh, really?" She relaxed slightly. "Is that your little vacation?"
"No. Just easier to find places open on Christmas. And stop asking questions," he said with a slight smile, taking a long sip from his red and green striped glass. She stared at the glass, that chill moving over her again. "You know, you have a mystery present there," he said, picking one up from her stack and dropping it between them. "Maybe it's from Santa."
"Oh, cool. I'll be sure to thank him just as soon as he exists."
Clark chuckled. "Well, you used to believe he existed."
"That can't be true. I..." She stopped, looking around her, that sort of chill moving over her again. The bright decorations, the little crowd chattering, the glasses in their hands, Clark's light blue shirt, the lights winking outside through the blinds. She looked down at her shirt, noting it seemed wrong, somehow. "Should be green," she whispered.
"Lois? Are you okay?"
"I don't know." She looked around again, waited for the feeling to fade and then she realized what this was. That chill turned into a rush of warmth and she found herself letting out a breath of laughter. "I mean... Yes," she breathed, smiling. "I'm fine." She turn to him, that smile growing. She remembered this. Not this exactly, but a moment like this. Everything was too familiar down to this window seat, talk of Santa, and the warm, yet slightly suspicious look in Clark's eyes. "Just remembering something."
"A good something?"
She nodded, feeling a bit unable to speak. But she felt strangely comforted, as if everything that happened had happened before and it was always okay. She thought of the scrapbook and the pictures, how sad it was seeing so many moments she just plain didn't know, but she did have some clear, warm memories. In fact, she had some with him. It was funny to look at Clark and feel so... warmed by him. Not that he was so discomfiting, but... Well, he was. From the moment she met him, she felt unsure or vaguely threatened or inexplicably drawn in or nervous -- all manner of things that always made her feel as if her ground was shaking. It was nice to look at him and feel firmly planted in this moment and just plain... warm.
He still looked worried. "You're sure?"
"I..." She stopped herself. With all he knew, they all knew, that she didn't, it felt kind of nice to have one to keep to herself. She smiled and shook her head. "Sudden attack of Christmas spirit, I guess."
*****************************
Clark peered closely at her, but didn't press further. That nearly disturbed look in her eyes had gone away, after all. He looked away, looked around at everyone else. His mother in animated conversation with Diana and Ollie and AC seemed to have some kind of competition as to who could land the most popcorn into Bart's hanging hood. Ollie was winning, of course, and Bart was oblivious, trying to ply Lana with another drink. Clark rolled his eyes at that and turned to Lois.
"I know Bart's game."
"Everyone always knows Bart's games." Lois chuckled. "Because he never shuts up."
"He probably figures if he gets her drunk enough, she won't notice if he slips up."
"Oh, let him. I think it might actually be keeping him too busy to slip up. Besides, I get the feeling Lana could use a good drunkening. Everyone needs one once in a while."
He considered that. "Does it really help?"
"I'm not saying it's healthy, but... You've never been drunk, have you?"
"Not exactly." He frowned. "I mean, I've told you about the red..."
"Yes, you did," she said quickly. He knew she didn't want to talk about the past, that part in particular.
"I only brought it up because it removes inhibitions, but not motor functions." He nodded to Lana. "And hers seem pretty off."
"Lana always seems pretty off to m... Damn it," she hissed. "That was really mean. And she did help me out with my present for Linda. It's just..." She huffed. "Why is everything she says only half true?"
"Meaning?"
Lois threw Lana a wary glance, then leaned in to Clark. "You know how Lana's supposedly loaded? Well, she hardly spends a dime, she wears the same things over, and I saw her taking the bus."
"Uh... Maybe she's just being frugal with her money. And, you know, the city buses aren't half bad."
"How would you know that?"
Because I have to take them every day to keep up my cover as a half-broke thug. "Well, I... hear the system's good."
"Hmmm."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"I feel like you're filing away every thing I say into some internal memory bank for later."
She blinked at him. "What makes you think I do that?"
"I know you."
She pursed her lips, then nodded to Lana again. "And how well do you know her?"
"Lois..."
"Clark, I found her using my computer."
"Maybe she was just checking her email."
"Yeah. That's what she said," Lois snorted. "But I'm not so sure. Oh, by the way, why are you giving her all these details about where I live?"
"What?"
"I mean, do you just tell everyone you meet all about my neighborhood and what kind of trees grow in it and..."
"I never told her any of that."
"Yes, you did. She said..." Her eyes widened and she drew back, nodding. "See?"
He sighed. "What am I supposed to see?"
"She's all 'Oh, you live in Midtown and there's a giant oak' and then she says you must have mentioned it."
"I don't think I did, but..." He shrugged. "I might have." But he really didn't think he did. Yet most of this felt like it boiled down to Lana trying too hard to make everything like it was. "Listen, if you want me to talk to her..."
"God, no. Don't do that," she hissed. "Then she'll know I'm on to her."
"Lois, I'll grant you Lana can be a little..." He struggled to find neutral words. He really didn't want to encourage any enmity here. "... hard to have a conversation with sometimes," he said, finally landing on something. "But she's not a bad person. I know that much."
"Did I say she was? Maybe she's caught up in something. I mean... Has she always been so cagey and weird?"
He wasn't sure what to say to that. But he had his first real talk with her in a graveyard where she'd proceeded to introduce him to her parents' ghosts -- with her interpreting. It had actually been strangely endearing at the time. But he wasn't sure how to put that to Lois. "Yes," he finally said, believing that covered it.
"Maybe if I keep some minor tabs on her..."
"Lois..."
"It might even be for her own good."
"Oh, God." He threw his hands up. "You know what? Do whatever you want. I have too much on my mind to worry about you stalking Lana."
She stared at him a moment. "Gosh. You'd think a guy on vacation would be more relaxed."
It was definitely time to change the subject. "Are you ever going to open your present?"
She held her stare. "This isn't over." But she sighed and picked up the small present. "So what's this present? A puppy or an easy-bake oven?
"I guess it's technically not a present, it's more something you should have back."
"Well, that's going around," she muttered as she tore at the wrapping, then laughed before he could ask what that was about. "Hey! You fixed my book."
"Actually, I didn't. I was too afraid of gluing the pages together. I took it to get restored." It wasn't cheap, either. "I broke the binding in the first place. I have no idea why I wrapped it. I just had this rhythm going by then." That was a sort of lie. He'd wrapped it to make it final, thinking of the letter he'd tucked into it, back where it had been for years before he knocked it from its place. He took it out again over and over before finally letting it stay there. But it was her letter. Maybe she wrote it to him, but she never gave it. Didn't she have a right to have it back? [i]Or were you just hoping she'd read it and come rushing into your arms?[/'i] And what if he was? It didn't mean it would happen. Still, she'd said she wanted no more lingering in the past. And that letter was from a different person. "Actually, can I see that for a..."
"No," she said with a smile, putting it at her side and taking the choice away from him. "You'll probably break it some more. You giant clod." Her smile suddenly dropped.
"What?"
"Every time I decide to be mad at you, you go and do something that ruins my bad mood. And it's really annoying."
He wasn't sure if he was supposed to smile at that, but he wanted to. "What do you want to be mad about... besides my vacation?" he added quickly.
She frowned at him and dug for something behind her. "I had a mild diatribe prepared about this." She held out the bracelet. "Clark, this is more than some roadside souvenir and you know it."
"I didn't," he said dully, staring at it. It was true. Until the moment it refused to come off her wrist, he'd never thought it was anything more than a bracelet. "I maybe had some suspicions after..." He wasn't about to go into what Jor-El had told him and scare her right off this window seat and away from the nicest talk they'd had in... he could hardly say how long. "What do you know about it?" He reached for it, but she pulled it back.
"You first."
He took a deep breath and settled for as much of the truth as he could give. "I didn't get it from a souvenir stand."
"No kidding," she drawled.
"It was given to me by a Kawatche tribe elder as a kind of gift after I kind of did this kind of favor for them."
"Lot of modifiers in there. Care to elaborate?"
"You really don't want to hear the whole thing," he said tiredly. "I hardly understand this Kawatche connection myself. It's full of mysticism and confusion... also werewolves for some reason I still don't..." He groaned. "It's a really long story. But I didn't even think of this bracelet until it wouldn't come off." He stared at her bare wrist. "When did it?"
"It just slipped off me." She held it out again.
"When?"
"I don't know. Early Monday morning."
It would. Wouldn't it?
"So I gave it to Victor."
His eyes snapped to hers. "What? Why?"
"Because it also glowed like a massive floodlight."
He stared at the bracelet again, thinking that might have been down to Jor-El's flair dramatics. But he had seen it give off some light, too. Still, something about it being analyzed made him uncomfortable. Maybe that was just the barbaric idea of this being shackled to her wrist simply because he wanted her. But there was also this feeling of invasion, as if this was something private, something between them. He forced a bland look. "What did Victor say?"
"He said there's something besides turquoise underneath."
So had Jor-El. This blue stone that somehow meant he was bound to her, could never harm her. "And?"
"He noted the similarity to Kryptonian symbols, he was afraid there was some other alien running around, and he wants to slap electrodes on me because he says it had energy spikes in my presence. He's kind of obsessed with it."
He definitely had to get Victor a new obsession. "Listen, I don't fully understand this thing myself. I think we should leave it alone."
She stared down at it, shivering slightly. "Fine by me."
He felt rather strange, too, sitting close to her with this, of all things, between them. He almost wanted to tell her to keep it. But it was wrong, wasn't it? This object dictating their fate. "Okay." He started to take it from her hand, but she wasn't letting go. "Lois?"
"Huh? Oh." She quickly released it and he hastily shoved it in his pocket. "Good. That's good. Maybe you should give it to your mom after all."
Dear God, no! "I think she'd rather keep her new coffee maker."
She gave an awkward laugh and the silence that followed went on too long. He wished she'd break it.
"So you're not on vacation."
With anything but that. "I can't..."
"I swear, Clark, if you could just admit that much..."
"I can't tell you."
"Why? Just tell me why you can't tell me. And I might leave it alone."
If it would get her off his back... "I signed a contract. I cannot tell anyone and that includes them." He nodded to the others who looked to be quieting into a food-induced stupor.
"Jesus! It's even bigger than I thought."
He stood, moved quickly, though not super quickly, to the dining room. "I think I'll start cleaning up."
She was right on his heels. "Is it Intergang, Clark? Just tell me that much and..."
"No." He sped around the table, ending with a stack of plates. "And you said you'd leave it alone."
"I did not. I only said I might. I'm not blind, Clark. Before you're suddenly on vacay, you were venting to me about Intergang and Lionel Luthor's vault and Maggie Sawyer and wondering what to do about it and I happened to be the one who told you exactly what to do about it, which is exactly what I think you're doing. And now you just leave me out of it?"
"It's not like that." He quickly, super quickly this time, cleared the rest of the table. He moved back in once the dishes were soaking in the sink. "I can't tell you more than this: there's no story for you, Lois," he said emphatically, moving around the table. "If all this dies down and there's a byline with your name on it, some people might be really mad at me."
"I'm not here for a story, Clark. I'm here for you. Or for... Superman you. I've been Superman's personal publicist since you came on the scene," she said rather hotly. "I'd like to think I have a vested interest in whether you stay alive. And that's just half the problem here. The other part that's killing me is that I tell you I want us to try to be friends and you're just gone."
"Because I needed to be."
"Maybe you did. But you also wanted to be. You act like this is me horning in," she sneered. "But do you stop to think I care? Because I do, Clark. And I want us to be friends. But it's going to be really hard to do that if you don't let me. If you don't trust me."
He sighed and stared at her. She was mostly right. "I do trust you. I always have."
She stared up at him for a long time before she spoke. "Then let me..."
"I swear, Lois, that if there's something you can do to help, I'll... Contract or no contract, I'll ask you."
She looked almost mollified. "Well, in case you missed it, I already have helped. I mean, you could at least thank me for getting Bart on the town."
He relaxed into a smile. "I was going to. Just waiting to see if the town survived him first." But he reminded himself that Superman needed to see Sawyer in the morning, put in a good word so the police weren't left scratching their heads over that off-putting, hyperactive flash of red.
"And you could at least be a little annoyed that the damned Star is outselling us."
He kept silent a moment, trying to think of how much he could say about the Star and Moxie's. "It's really bothering me," he finally growled, unable to help it. He was right there, a damned reporter in the middle of Moxie's and he not only couldn't report on it, he had to watch The Inquisitor's glossier, stupider clone, The Metropolis Star scoop everything up!
"It could be a ploy," Lois whispered, leaning in.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, one day it's a diatribe about their horrible practices, then it's some glowing statement about how management is correcting all the injustice. I mean you get a wag of the finger, then a pat on the back."
He nodded. "That is a little weird."
"Regardless, it's working," she said with a huff. "If there's anything people love more than a villain, it's a supposed reformed bad boy."
"Who wants pie?" he heard from the living room.
Of course, Clark always wanted pie, but not now, not when they were finally talking. He stared at her, feeling mildly annoyed as Bart sped in between them. Not as fast as he could, but pretty close.
"Bart, what are you thinking?" he hissed as his mother sidled past them.
"Don't worry," he said with a shrug, planting himself at the table. "She didn't see."
"That's not the point," Lois said with a groan. "How are you ever going to have another life if you keep..."
"You guys, it's Christmas," he whined. "Can we not think about this future right now? Besides, she wouldn't notice if she did see. Look." He pointed with a slight snort.
Lois and Clark both turned to find Lana taking a meandering walk in, Diana and AC right behind her with their arms out. "Is there rhubarb?" She giggled. "Is it just me or is rhubarb kinda like a funny word?"
Lana Lang. Blind drunk. It wasn't something he'd ever imagined he'd see and he wasn't sure if he was physically capable of closing his mouth.
"Uh-oh," Lana stumbled and Diana caught her by the arm. "Someone's under the... thing that that's called. What is that thing?" She turned to Diana, kind of fell into her, until Diana pulled her up. "Oh, my God! You're so strong!" She gave Clark a watery smile. "S'okay, you know. Cause I am fine with this. It's like..." She seemed to be trying very hard to snap. "You guys... I mean, you're under the thing. Don't gotta be all shy because I know it and I can hannellit." She frowned. "I mean hand... ull... God, my mouth won't talk right."
"That because it needs water and coffee," he heard his mother say. "Lana, come sit down." She nudged Clark. "Sweetie, can you move? You two are kind of blocking the doorwa..."
"No," Lana cut in. "They don't need ta move. Because they're under the thing and tha's okay and I want you guys to kiss because I'm alright." She slapped a hand to her chest. "I promise," she said with a slight sniff.
"Kiss?" Clark looked up and finally figured out what she was talking about. "Uh..." He dropped his eyes to Lois, trying to think what to do. Because he didn't want to force a kiss on her. He also didn't want to reject her. But, from the look on her face, she was getting the same read on this situation he was: awkward as all hell. "You know, I think we're..."
"Okay, if the wife gets the entire coconut custard pie, you all get a hundred bucks," he heard from the living room before Oliver appeared behind AC, who seemed to be finding all of this hilarious. "We just worked it out and I think it's a good... Oh. Mistletoe action. It's bad luck if you don't kiss her, Clark. So..."
"What?!" Then Linda appeared, looking aghast, then elbowed Oliver. "Don't you encourage him," she hissed loudly.
Clark's eyes snapped to Linda's. If anything could sway him in the other direction...
Oliver laughed. "Oh, come on. It's just a kiss."
Then again, it wasn't. It never was with them. And he was still struggling to figure out what they could now be to each other. If he confused things now...
"Oh, for crying out loud..."
He didn't get to weigh the issue any further, as her hands gripped his collar and he was yanked down to meet her lips.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ah, the mistletoe kiss. Such a well-worn Christmas cliche that I couldn't resist.
I'll be giving Christmas a quick finish and moving on in the next.
I should be back to fully concentrate on this one (with only occasional breaks) by next week.
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