Almost Lovers (Chapter Twenty-One)

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Huge spoilers for the 1942 film Random Harvest. If it’s always been on your to-watch list and you don’t want the whole thing ruined, I suggest you see it before reading this chapter.

I’ll even provide a link here. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cL3V...e=results_main

I’m also providing more smut. After all, this fic is adult and it’s high time I made up for all the lack before.  

Chapter Twenty-One

She woke to him wrapped around her, prodding her insistently, though unconsciously, from behind. She stayed still, not wanting to wake him, wondering if she could get things started before he opened his mouth. Then also calculating how fast she could shoo him out the door after.

And it made her feel like the worst kind of b*tch, even contemplating it. But she had a damned lot to do today and she didn’t want to start another day off with a fight. All through yesterday, she just told herself to get through it, knock off the items on her list, because she’d have a hell of a night ahead of her. A hell of a fight, even. There would have to be fighting if they actually wanted to do this for real. There was so much to work through.

But then she just plain didn’t want to. The thought of it was exhausting. Couldn’t she just be with him? Couldn’t they just skip it? 

So she decided to do just that. 

And they’d ended up on her living room floor, the wood cold under her shoulder blades as he moved over her, eyes hard and pleading at once, full of all the things she didn’t want him to say. 

He stirred behind her now and she could almost hear him stewing. She braced herself for a speech, then, once again, realized she just didn’t want to hear it.

“You can’t tell me you weren’t controlling and intrusive because you were,” she said softly. 

He didn’t say anything, but she could feel his pulse speed up in the wrist slung over her hip.

“And you can’t tell me I’m not just some guilty project to you. You just have to… prove it.”

It was a long time before he spoke. “And how do I do that?”

“Be with me.” She sat up, letting his hand slide off her, facing away from him and tucking her knees to her chest. “Just be with me without it just… hanging on some drama from the past, from people that aren’t even us.” She took a deep breath. “So much has happened in just a few months. I’m not even the person I was before that. But… It feels insane to say it, but the one consistent thing has been you. Always you. You’ve been there, whether I wanted you there or not.”

He was silent behind her. She could hear him start and stop, so she saved him the trouble.

“Did you ever see Random Harvest?”

“Uh…”

“You probably didn’t. But your Mom loves it. Apparently, I… Well, the old me did, too. She made me watch it at the end of my little break. It’s one of those old black and whites with the sweeping score and the tearful embraces carefully turned to the camera.”

Clark laughed softly. “Yeah. My dad and I usually left her alone with a box of tissues for those.”

Lois chuckled as well. “She only went through half a box with me. Must be progress.” She shook her head. “Anyway, at the end we’d been swapping movie choices with hands of gin. Bad move as your mom’s a total hustler. But I watched it and was so… confused. It all seemed so familiar.”

“Well, you’d seen it before.”

“Yes, but I’d also… lived it in a way. See, Ronald Coleman plays Smith, at least that’s what they call him. He’s a World War One soldier, escaped from a mental institution and wandering around London with no idea of who he is. That’s where he meets Greer Garson. She’s playing a night club dancer named Paula. She figures Smith’s a good guy and helps him hide from the cops trying to put him back in. Fast forward a while and they’re living in some small town, in some cottage surrounded by dogwoods, with a kid on the way. And he’s an aspiring writer. So he finally gets his big interview in London and… BAM! Hollywood head injury! Which results in all his old memories back in place and his recent ones gone.”

“So… I’m a night club dancer in this scenario?”

She snorted at the image and waved him away behind her. “Let me finish. So it turns out he’s an heir to a fortune and everyone thought he was dead all these years. So he gives up remembering who he’d been all that time… mostly because he can’t and just picks up his old life with the eggs and kippers. By the way, I’d kind of kill to live in Edwardian days. I mean, if you were rich, they just have little buffets waiting for you at every meal.” She shook her head. “Anyway, he runs the business, gets engaged to this little teenybopper girl, all the while he has this dependable secretary, Miss Hansen. You only hear her voice, but you know he depends on her, maybe more than he knows. Then she shows up and it’s Paula! But he doesn’t know that,” she went on, her words speeding up as she remembered. “Anyway, the kid died of some kind of fever and Paula’s been there for years now, working for him and just dying for him to remember her, but he never does. And the little girl… I mean, she’s legal, but she doesn’t look it even with the makeup. Anyway, she’s all pouty because she can always tell he’s thinking of someone else, that he’s not with her. So she ends the engagement and he’s okay about it, except for how he doesn’t like being alone. And there’s Miss Hansen. Hey, she’s his secretary already. She does everything a wife would do. He asks her to marry him, just keep doing what she’s doing, but live in his mansion, separate bedrooms and all. And she’s still nuts about him, so she does it. And they go for years that way, both of them together and apart and in love with someone else. He loves Paula even if he doesn’t remember her and Paula loves Smith and waits for him to see her and they’re not happy because they’re always looking for the other person to be… something else.” She grew silent.

“So… How did it end?”

She shook herself. “Kind of too fast. He eventually ended up in that same part of London he’d been lost in when the movie started. Then he remembered his way all the way back to the dogwood cottage. Then Miss Hansen shows up. And he calls her Paula and she calls him Smithy and they embrace. That’s kind of it.”

The bed dipped and she felt the blankets settle over her shoulders. “It’s probably cold,” he said softly.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re Smith.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m Smith. And you’ve been there this whole time, waiting for me and… sometimes I feel like Paula, like you’re always looking for me to be someone else and give you some kind of… of… absolution that was someone else’s to give.” She turned, finally facing him. “It’s like you can’t figure out how to be with me now.”

“But I want to be with you.” He knelt up on the bed. “Lois, it’s almost the number one thing I want.” He half-smiled. “I mean, besides a safe and crime-free world, but that’s not exactly realistic, so…”

“Clark, all this stuff about you and me and fate and destiny,” she started, holding his gaze. “It is scary, but I can handle it. But I just… I need time. I need to just be together and not think about what it means. And I need to know if you can do that, if you can put down this idea of what you think we should be and this person you think I should be and just,” she shrugged, “be with me now,” she finished softly. “I probably didn’t need to spoil a whole movie’s plot to say that.”

He smiled and glanced down. “Yeah. I was saving that one for movie night with Bart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Want to ruin one for me?”

“So there’s this guy, John McClane. He’s on his way to a Christmas party and…”

“I’ll stop you there. I’ve had movie night with Bart. Die Hard was pretty much required viewing.”

He chuckled. “Well, I could do the sequel.”

“Saw all four. But I hear they’re working on a fifth, so maybe that one.”

“Oh, good.”

They glanced around the room, eyes landing everywhere but directly on each other. 

“Oh, God!” He shot off the bed. “I’m supposed to be at Cat’s. Damn it! I didn’t even think.” He sped into his pants so fast she was surprised he didn’t put a hole in them. “Perry wants a draft by ten at the latest. I’ll probably be late if…” He stilled, his pants still unbuttoned, which she didn’t have a problem with. “If you want a fifth date so soon, I mean,” he finished.

“I do,” she said, trying not to pout as she pulled the covers tighter around her. Cat. She of the plunging necklines and pounds of makeup. “I don’t see why you have to rush off. It’s only eleven.”

“Lois, it’s past noon. I was supposed to meet her fifteen minutes ago. I have an entire story to write and…” He trailed off, staring at his watch. “It’s eleven.”

“Oh!” She gestured to her alarm clock. “Don’t pay attention to that. I always set it ahead.”

He shook his head. “So you know it’s wrong and you still…”

“Well, you never know. I might trick myself one of these days.” She laid back, letting the covers slip off as she sat up. “Guess you’d better run along, though.” She stood and stretched. “Wouldn’t want to keep Cat waiti…” She found herself back on the bed, Clark leaning over her, smiling.

“You do know she’s not my type, right?”

She actually did. “Please. She’s every man’s type,” she couldn’t help pointing out.

“Well, I’m not every man.” His smile dropped. “Lois, I know I’ve probably made it seem like I’m looking at you and seeing someone else there, but I swear that I see only you. The only one I…”

“Don’t, Clark,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck. “Just be with me.” It was too much to hear him say it, even if she knew he meant every word. Somehow, it seems less scary to just feel it in the way his hands splayed over her, as if he wanted to cover her completely with them. Or the way his lips almost spoke as they kissed their way down her body, as if he was whispering promises into her skin.

He gripped her hips to still them. Sometimes, he was so gentle it overwhelmed her completely, knowing that he was capable of hurting her and also knowing he never would.

His tongue circled and dipped. His lips sucked and rubbed softly over her. It wasn't long before she felt as if she was wandering, floating outside her mind and into the spot where his mouth worked her and there was only feeling.

She pushed at him as he moved up her body, unable to handle his eyes right now. She turned onto her stomach, reaching a hand behind her to pull him down to her. He got the message, pulling her up onto her hands and knees before sliding a hand up her back, pushing her hair aside before his lips touched the back of her neck.

She shivered and pushed back against him. She wasn’t sure she wanted gentleness and soft caresses right now. Besides, did they really have time? “Clark, please…” She broke off on a gasp when he entered her.

He was so deep in this position, it was nearly too much. She could feel every slow push inward and soft drag out as if all her nerves were concentrated in the spot where they joined. Just short of painful, but so good she didn’t want him to stop.

They moved that way for a long time, Lois pushing back against him as his hips moved in long, slow strokes, hands moving over her, shaking just a little. She suddenly realized he was holding back. And she didn’t want him to.

She pushed back hard, bracing herself against the headboard with one hand.

He grunted and pushed right back.

“Yes,” she panted, “more.”

She heard him huff out a laugh behind her. “Back to your approved words?” he breathed even as he moved, deeper now.

“We can add phrases,” she turned her head to meet his eyes. “As in f*ck me, Clark, and make it good.”

His eyes darkened and his hips sped up.

She’d thought that would get him. She’d noticed, by now, that nothing seemed to get Clark going more than a dirty word from her mouth. She’d take a moment to analyze whether it was Methodist repression or the typical lack of worldliness that came with growing up on a Kansas farm, but she’d rather pay attention to the feelings welling up. Could she come again, so quickly after the last?

“Yes,” she answered on a moan, dropping her head to her outstretched arm. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay upright.

Clark’s movements quickened, as if he knew she was close, one hand snaking under her, working her clit in tight, wet circles. Her arms collapsed then. And he followed her down, never stopping.

Her orgasm hit her in waves, more intensely than the first, as if the pressure on her clit and the tip of him nudging at her g-spot were working together to drive her into insensibility. She choked out his name with the last of her wits as waves of hot and cold rushed over her body over and over, as if it would never end.

She must have blacked out at some point. When she came to, boneless beneath him, he was still driving into her, still massaging her clit, now numb except for sharp tingles that raced outward, her body jerking with his thrusts until he stiffened, calling out her name.

He collapsed over her, breathing hard into her neck. In that moment, it was easy to let go of the barely-remembered past, the confusing present, the hazy future. They were good at this. Maybe because they’d been in this position more times than she could remember. But she didn’t like to think about that. Sometimes, it was best just to put everything else away and feel…

And it was bliss.

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

It was torture.

On the one hand, it was everything he wanted. She wanted to try, wanted to move on from the past, wanted sex every time they saw each other. He half-wondered if he was insane to want more than that. He wanted assurance, he supposed. Some kind guarantee that they would make it, that he wouldn’t have to spend another night without her, that they could be like they were... but nothing like they were.

And it was insane. He knew that. He couldn’t expect her to promise him forever after four dates. He couldn’t expect her to be Chloe, yet still Lois. He couldn’t…

“We can’t print half of what I saw,” Cat grumbled, pulling him back to the present. 

They were supposed to meet at The Met Stop as they didn’t mind people sitting in their booths for hours on end as long as they left a good tip. But Cat’s sister/babysitter had other plans, so they ended up at her place.

It was nothing like he expected, not that he spent a great deal of time thinking of it. But, when waiting at Cat's door, he’d figured he’d see violent reds and purples and maybe lots of leather and leopard print. But it was actually fairly homey, lacey curtains and muted colors, a hastily folded away sofa bed, and toys just everywhere. Even her clothes were fairly sedate. She was wearing a sweat shirt and no makeup at all! It was almost off-putting.

Her son, Adam, was in his room, determined to copy down not only every letter in the alphabet, but every number up to a hundred. Clark had playfully bet him one whole dollar he couldn’t, after all.

“Sh*t, what’s the point of this?” she went on in a whisper, one glance to her son’s cracked door.

Clark straightened and stared at his laptop. He was here to work, not keep obsessing about Lois. “I think the point is to make it clear that Mannheim and associates' leap into respectability was a load of bull.”

“Well, people had to know that from the start,” Cat scoffed.

“Still, we can help things. Maybe hope the judge and public sentiment push things toward consecutive sentences,” he mumbled absently. 

“Keep their asses in lock-up,” she mused. “That’s a good way to look at it.” She gestured to Clark. “You’re good at this. I don’t know. How the hell am I supposed to fit in somewhere like The Daily Planet? I was raised in Los Angeles. There, you get their attention with something juicy and you keep it with something juicier. All this social commentary and prompting social change and hard-nosed investigation…” She shook her head. “What the hell am I thinking? Why would The Planet hire someone like me?”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.” The way Clark saw it, Cat’s employment seemed a foregone conclusion. Perry, on meeting the two of them yesterday, said “I’ll be damned” quite a lot. As much as he hated being scooped, hiring the competition might take away the sting. Clark felt fairly sure Cat’s name plate would join his and Lois’ in “investigative.”

“Can’t we at least agree that I personally saved Superman?”

But only if Cat learned to tell the truth. “So his hero friends did nothing?”

“Oh, fine. But I definitely want credit for starting things off.”

“Tell you what? You write your heroics and I’ll edit it for flow. But we have to mention The Flash, Wonder Woman and Cy…” He stopped. No one in Metropolis knew Victor’s code name. He’d not come “out” quite yet. “The… silent… other two.” Jones had been visible, in his chosen form, in the end. He wasn’t sure Jones would want much attention either. Clark wasn’t even sure he would join the team. 

“Are you being PC or something? The two black guys. I saw them, too. One was young and all in silver lamé. Total hottie, though. And… the other…”

Clark resisted correcting her as he “wasn’t there.” But Victor would hate his gear being described as “silver lamé.”

“I thought the other guy was a detective at first,” Cat went on. “But he seemed to know Superman so well and he wasn’t around after. But he was hot, too. For an older guy.” Cat shivered. “God! I’m so glad I moved to Metropolis. You guys get all the hot, hero action.”

“From what I heard,” Clark said carefully, “the young unnamed hero…”

“Oooh! Unnamed hero. I like that. Adds an air of mystery. Then we can tease about our efforts to find the unnamed heroes and the public will go nuts over…”

“Maybe we should say the young unnamed hero was wearing… metallic stuff. I don't know. Silver lamé sounds… a little like fashion commentary.” 

“God, you’re right.” Cat shook her head and started typing. “Maybe go less on the clothes. Ugh! I wish we got a picture!”

There. Duty done by Victor. That sounded much less girly.

“God!” Cat dropped her head into her hands. “I’m not getting this right,” she groaned.

“Cat…”

“No.” She slapped the table. “You don’t get it. I do blind items and red carpet commentary. I’m not up for this!”

“But you got through it! You saw everything! Cat, you’re writing a story about an undercover investigation you were immersed in. That’s pretty much you being up for this.”

“But what if it’s just for this story? What if this is the only one I have for The Daily Planet? And then I crawl back to The Star like some…”

“Then make it the best one you’ve ever written,” Clark huffed. “Just shut up about the job and focus on the story, for crying out loud!” 

Cat snorted. “Wow. Someone’s moody.”

“I’m not…” Maybe he was. Part way into this session, he realized he hated collaborating. With Lois, it seemed so easy. But with Cat… “I just think we should focus on getting the facts down, then go over the whole.”

Cat just stared at him. “Seriously, what’s with you? I never knew you could be so… snappish.”

“You haven’t known me that long,” he mumbled.

“Well, I’ve seen you put up with Moxie’s management, so I should be like a dream. What are you, overtired? Hungry?”

“I’m not…”

“Bad date last night?”

“Can we just focus on the story?” he groaned.

Cat grinned. “So that’s how it is?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Is it that prissy partner of yours?”

“She’s not priss… Cat, we have work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved him off and leaned over the table. “So what is it? Pushing you to meet her parents? Or is she withholding sex?”

“This isn’t about Lois. And we are not… involved.” Publicly. Hell, not even his mother knew yet.

“Fine, fine. This mysterious lady friend of yours, then. Is she demanding a ring or…”

“No, she’s not,” he cut in. “Far from it,” he grumbled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cat shrugged. “Fine. Work, then.”

He stared at his screen. “It’s just that… Sometimes you know what you want. And what you want may seem completely crazy, but… I’m not the kind of guy to date around. I don’t think it’s in me. I mean, I’ve been with the wrong girls… Well, maybe mostly just the one. But I know it’s right now. I just…” He shook his head. “It’s stupid. I just wish she could be sure of us like I am.”

Cat took a deep breath, then smiled. “First of all, congrats for being like no man I’ve ever dated. Second of all… if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. If you like her and she likes you, then just go with it. Stop making things so complicated.”

“That’s what she said,” he muttered. All we have are long, thinky talks about destiny because you have to make everything so complicated.

“Well, she’s right. Listen, I’ve been with the kind of guy who promises the moon and delivers a smack in the mouth. Sometimes you can’t be too careful who you tie yourself to.”

Clark drew back, shaking his head. “But I’d never… I’m not like that.”

“No.” Cat tilted her head. “I don’t think you are. But…”

“I finished!”

Clark and Cat both turned to the bedroom as Adam bounded out, brandishing a notebook.

Clark tossed a smile at Cat before shaking his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I did! Look!” He opened his book. “I got all the ABC’s and one to one-hundred.”

“Wow! You win.” Clark stood and pulled out his wallet. “Was it… one penny?”

“No! One dollar!” He turned to Cat. “Mom! You were there. He said…”

“I know,” Clark cut in, laughing. “I was just kidding.” He handed him the dollar and took the notebook. “Tell you what? I’m really impressed with your work.”

“Yeah?” Adam took the dollar with a gap-toothed grin. “So could I be a reporter?”

“I need something better. Our story needs pictures. They might not go in the paper, but the boss wants the story illustrated, just to help him… make the paper. Do you know what that means?”

Adam shook his head. “No, but I can do it if you tell me,” he said gravely.

“You draw pictures of the story, of all the stuff that happened…”

“Like Mom rescuing Superman?”

Clark chuckled. “Yeah. All of that. And I will pay you,” he pretended to deliberate, “two Dollars.”

“Five!”

“He’ll do it for three,” Cat cut in.

“Mom!” 

“I know what you’re after,” she said, pulling him to her. “You want your new Wii game and I told you that you only get it when you keep your room clean for a whole week.”

“Aw…”

“Three dollars and I take you to Jump N’ Jammin. Take it or leave it!”

“Fine.” He broke away when she tried to seal the deal with a series of smacking kisses to his cheek and held his hand out to Clark. “Deal.”

Clark shook it. “Deal.”

“Now get to work,” Cat said, shooing him off. “The press won’t wait!”

Adam grabbed his notebook from Clark and rushed back to his room.

Clark sat back down, shaking his head at Cat. “Who are you?”

“Oh, shut up.” She pulled up her purse. “Listen, I can give you the four dollars back, It’s sweet of you to…”

“No. Come on.”

“You sure? You’re way cheaper than a babysitter already.”

“I think it’s kind of fun, giving him little jobs.”

Cat smiled. “You’re not a bad guy, Clark Kent.” She shook her head. “Which is why I don’t get your mystery lady, unless…”

Clark leaned forward. “Unless?”

“Listen, any relationship is happy at first, but that doesn’t last. It’s not all about whether you’re happy or not. The test is whether you’re both still in standing when the sh*t comes raining down…”

“But the… We’ve had a few rainstorms.”

“And you might have a hundred more. The trick is getting through each one. There is no… forever,” she sighed. “There’s just surviving each day. Trust me. I’ve failed enough to know.”

Clark sat back. “So… no guarantees.”

“Sorry. Nope.” Cat chuckled. “So I guess you’re spoken for, damn you.”

“Well… yeah.” He smiled. He was. He could take that much from what Lois was willing to give him. She was willing to try.

“Don’t suppose you want a little side action? Because I…”

“Cat…”

“Oh, I’m kidding. You’re a taken man.”

“I am.”

“It only makes you more alluring.”

“Will you quit it?”

“Jeez! I’m joking! I’m never the other woman… anymore. Unless…”

“Stop it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Thanks again to AV for her beta work.