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Chapter Text

The very first thing Lois noticed about the intern Perry gave to her was how scared he looked. The second thing she noticed was his size. Jesus, the kid barely fit in her cubicle.

Still, she strode right on in and dropped her bag on the desk with an unceremonious thump. The intern looked up, a pink blush coloring his cheeks. Lois was taken aback for a second, the pang of affection that stabbed through her entirely unfamiliar. Focus, Lane.

"Hiya," she said brightly. "I'm Lois Lane. And you..."

"Clark. Um, Kent."

"Clark-Um-Kent, are going to help me catch Superman."

In hindsight, she felt a tiny bit bad about her phrasing. The kid practically jumped out of his skin. "What?" he yelped. "Catch him? But- Superman's a good guy!"

Lois waved a hand flippantly. "Relax, Clark. I don't mean we're going to arrest him. I doubt we could." She paused, trying to picture the enormous man in handcuffs. After a long moment, she waved off the mental image. "I just mean that the bastard has been dodging my interviews for weeks. I'm sick of it."

Clark rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks bright pink. "Oh. Right. Maybe he's shy?"

Lois stared at him, contemplating. When she heard he was an intern, she assumed he was fresh out of college. But he seemed around her age. She nodded approvingly. Then, she realized that Clark-Um-Kent was staring at her, as if awaiting an answer.

"What?"

He turned away, blushing, and mumbled something about checking his email. Lois plopped down in her desk chair, rolling her eyes. Jesus, the kid was jumpier than a rabbit in a fox den.

She caught a glimpse of his forearm muscles as he rolled up his sleeves, and her eyebrows shot up.

Okay. Definitely not a kid, then.

----

"So," she said casually. "What do you think of this 'Superman'?"

Clark looked up from his computer, his fingers digging into the metal of the laptop. If she didn't know better, Lois would say it looked as if he'd dented it.

"W-why do you ask?" Clark mumbled eventually.

Lois stared him down, her eyebrows furrowing. "We're writing about him, aren't we? Can't a girl make small talk?"

"HAH!" he laughed, too loud. "Yes! Of course. We are making normal small talk about our article like reporters do!"

Lois turned away, staring resolutely at the police scanner she had pulled up. Okay. Kent wasn't one for chatting. Noted.

----

Lois' walk home took her through some odd parts of the city. Specifically, she walked past a gorgeous rooftop community garden every day. Today, however, someone was up there. And this 'someone' had a huge 'S' on his chest and was built similarly to a freight train.

She grasped her voice recorder in her mouth and scrambled up the rickety ladder on the side of the building, silently thanking her father for all that stupid military training. She dragged herself up onto the roof, leaping out at Superman.

"Hey!" Lois yelled. "Superman! I'm Lois Lane, with the Daily-"

He took off, looking something like a startled baby deer. It was almost familiar.

"Oh, no you don't," she spat, and leapt right off the rooftop after him.

Chapter Text

The feeling of falling was horrifying, Lois decided. Scale of one to ten? Solid 0. Maybe -1.

Then her fingers caught around an ankle (that was closer in size to a tree trunk), and she swung awkwardly in midair.

Superman skidded to a halt, screaming in a way that was decidedly not heroic. (Lois may have screamed too, that wasn't really relevant).

"What are you doing?!" he yelled.

"I have some questions!" she yelled back.

"No!"

----

Lois grumbled under her breath as she was set back down gently on the edge of a nearby roof. "Not even a little interview? Pleaseee?" she wheedled, waving her voice recorder. "Come on, Metropolis is dying to know more about you."

If she didn't know better, she'd say that Superman's expression was almost fond. "Sorry," he said (sounding like he meant it, how rare). "I don't- I- I'm not doing interviews," he said finally. Lois folded her arms over her chest, trying not to look so disappointed. Suddenly, his face softened in a way that caught her off-guard. "I'll make you a deal. When I'm ready to do interviews, you have first dibs. Okay, Miss Lane?"

Lois contemplated for a long moment, staring at his outstretched palm. "Why? Is that what you offer to every annoying journalist who stalks you?"

Superman started to withdraw his hand slowly. "Well, if you don't want it, I'll take my offer back."

Lois snatched his hand, gripping it with as much force as she could muster. "No! That interview is mine!"

He turned bright red and shook her hand, letting it go gently. "Then we have a deal?"

She sighed. "Yes."

"And no more jumping off of buildings."

"Not fair!"

But he was already gone, having vanished off into the sky.

----

The next morning, Clark couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Lo and behold, as soon as he got to the office, Lois had grabbed him by the tie and shoved him into a dank old meeting room that smelled decidedly of mildew.

"Sit."

He sat.

"So!" Lois announced proudly. "I, yours truly, have come up with an incredible plan to interview the Superman himself." A coy smile played on her lips as she flipped over a whiteboard, revealing a mess of scribbled cursive writing. "Take it all in," she breathed, clearly proud. Absently, Clark wondered if she'd slept at all. He didn't have the heart to tell her her plan was illegible.

"Oh," was all he could muster.

Lois plonked a police scanner right down on the table, grinning ear to ear. "Something is bound to happen today. There's whispers of stolen alien tech all over the city! You know who has to show up then?"

Clark blinked, licking his lips nervously as Lois smiled eagerly at him. If only that smile wasn't so hard to disagree with.

"Superman?" he said finally.

She practically fell over herself in her haste to cross the room. "Right!" she yelled, pressing her finger into his chest.

Clark felt his own cheeks turn red.

Thankfully, the police scanner felt like going off right then, distracting them both.

----

As he raced across the city, Superman felt his heart thudding in his chest. No doubt Lois would be there (his heart gave a little flutter at the thought) and would be causing trouble, thank you, heart. Lo and behold, there was Lois Lane. Sprinting full pelt down the street in heels. Okay, maybe they weren't that high, but it was still impressive. Oh, and there she was, ducking under police tape (Superman had a headache). And dashing across the plaza to run into a burning building (more like a migraine).

He dove, grabbing her by the waist just before she could run into the bank. "What-" he yelped. "What are you doing?!"

"Superman!" Lois cried, looking all too excited. "Just who I was looking for. You know-"

He set her down on the edge of a roof. "No. Try not to get yourself killed, please?"

She contemplated for a long moment. "Ok. If I get an inte-"

He was already gone. Lois considered this a win.

----

Oh hell no. Vicki Vale was putting a mic in Superman's face, practically purring as she sidled up to sniff out an interview. Lois hopped to the ground (how she got off of the roof was unimportant and decidedly did not involve doing something stupid) and sprinted over to them. As she ran, she took off her earrings. It couldn't hurt. "Superman-! Hey-"

Vicki sniffed. "Honey, this is my interview. Be a dear and shoo, alright?"

Lois stepped between her and Superman (who looked entirely uncomfortable being there). "No. I have exclusive first interview rights. Tell her."

Superman mumbled something.

Vicki jabbed a finger into Lois' chest, knocking her back into Superman. It wasn't really pushing, but it was enough for Lois. She flipped the other reporter over her shoulder and onto the grass. "Don't touch me," she hissed. "There's much more where that came from.

Vicki just laughed as she retreated, the two reporters yelling insults at each other as they went.

"I'm suing the Planet!"

"Sure. You know where to find me to settle this like adults!"

"Adults? Lane, you're like five foot two."

"There's about to be five feet up your a-"

Superman grabbed Lois by the shoulders, spinning her around. "So!" he interrupted nervously. "How's that interview sound...?"

----

They talked on the roof of the Planet. Superman stood rigid the whole time, looking petrified. Lois, on the other hand, sat down and shot rapidfire questions at him. He didn't have a good answer for most of them, but she kept at it. The sun was beginning to paint the sky pink with sunset by the time she slowed down. Superman would later claim he just wasn't very busy that afternoon (it certainly wasn't that he just didn't have the heart to say no to her when she smiled like that).

"So," Lois said, swinging her legs off the edge of the roof. "Off the record. When you're not being Superman, do you have a normal life? Are you like a secret billionaire?" She gasped. "Do you have a fortress where you live with a thousand beautiful women...?" She trailed off, noticing how red his face was. "Sorry. I know I can be a lot."

"No! No, you're okay. It's just surprising, is all." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"How so?" Lois tilted her head to the side. "You're like, ripped and have superpowers. I can't imagine you're not popular."

His face flaming even redder gave her her answer.

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a long moment.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm just a normal person too?" Lois cringed at the sound of her own voice. "Well, not like I have an alter ego? Just... Gah! I don't know!"

She glanced over at him. Superman's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter and he was hiding his face.

"You're making fun of me."

"...no?"

"You so are!"

"Okay, maybe a little?"

"Not nice!"

A lopsided smile crossed his face, and she decided at once that that smile was all she wanted to see for the rest of her life. "I have a way to make up for it. Trust me?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Should I?"

"Probably not. But do you?"

"Yes."

----

It was only when she was laying in her bed, hiding her face in a pillow to hide how pink her cheeks were that she remembered she hadn't seen Clark since leaving him at the office that morning. And yet, when she checked her phone, there was a message from him wishing her a goodnight. Lois' spine prickled with suspicion.

Chapter Text

Lois Lane, shockingly, is suspicious. A journalist, suspicious? What a scandal. She'll have to call Cat, let her know- Lois snaps herself out of her sarcastic inner monologue with a shake of her head. Clark's sweet little message from last night was enough to pique her interest, but the way he's humming with excitement and keeps shooting quick glances her way only serves to raise her hackles further.

"So," she begins slowly. "I got my interview with Superman yesterday."

Lord, this man is going to kill her. The excited little flip her heart does when he perks up should be studied.

"Mhm?" he replies, trying (and utterly failing) to sound casual. "Do you like him?"

Lois eyes him for a moment. Would it be too mean to play with his feelings? She decides 'no'.

"Nope," she says, popping the word like it's a soap-bubble of rising hope. "He dodged every question I asked. He was a terrible interview subject." She folds her arms over her chest and pretends not to be eyeing Clark. She regrets eyeing Clark. He looks like a kicked puppy.

"Bu-ut," she drawls, cursing herself mentally. "He seems... nice. Like he genuinely wants to help."

God, if that doesn't make Clark look so happy. "Really?" he says, whirling his chair around so fast that the wind it kicks up ruffles her hair. She's not impressed.

"Mhm." For a moment, she acts like she's going back to her writing. "How about you?" she says, her voice just toeing the line of teasing. "Do you like him?"

He flushes and stutters out a yes-no-maybe-so and Lois rolls her eyes.

"God, Clark. You got a crush on the guy or something?"

The way his mouth falls open should be studied, she decides.

----

Lately, there's been an uptick in Superman sightings. Lois preens when she finds out why. She usually manages to catch this so-called 'Man of Steel' at least once a week for interviews, but her numbers have suddenly shot up. She adds a new pin to what she's dubbed her murder board. Clark shudders at the name. So far, he's only gone so far as to call it 'The Board'. Lois refuses to stop teasing him for it.

Lois chews on her thumbnail, shaking her head in an attempt to snap out of her Clark-revelry. God, what is with that intern? She is decidedly not 'boy-crazy', never has been. A smug little monster in her chest reminds her that her dad would hate it if she let a man distract her from work. She waves off this monster like everything else she doesn't want to think about.

She steps back from her board. So. Super-hearing. That's an interesting one. Part of her wants to yell out, to scream and see if he appears (as he always seems to do; for her especially, but she doesn't want to think about that). She decides against it. Feeling heat rise in her chest, she makes her way to the rooftop of her apartment anyways. She's not going to scream, she reasons, but somehow her plan feels even more embarrassing than if she just screamed. What, she's just going to go stand on the roof and say 'Superman' awkwardly until he shows? Absolutely not. She has no reason to embarrass herself in front of Superman, even if he seems fonder of her than of the general press. Lois has done the math, he can be clear across the city in a fraction of a second if he wants. What is the plan if he does show up? He could be there by the time she finishes saying his name.

And somehow, she finds herself sitting on her roof anyways.

Here goes nothing.

Her pulse roars in her ears and she shuts her eyes.

"Superman."

There is nothing. She peeks an eye open.

"Superman."

Again, nothing but the whistling of wind on the roof of a highrise.

"Superman Superman Superman Superman."

She should not be surprised that nothing happens. She sits there for a few more minutes, clinging to a foolish hope that he might still show. Predictably, nothing happens.

"Clark," she mutters, tracing the dust on the rooftop with an absent finger.

There is a whoosh of air, and Superman hangs in the air in front of her. They both look just as startled as the other. He stares at her, mouth dropped open similarly- similarly to Clark's, she realizes with a shudder. "You're not Clark," she says stupidly.

"I'm not?" he replies, in a manner that she decides then is far more stupid than the way she says stupid things.

They both stare at each other stupidly (though Clark's staring is much stupider, thank you very much).

Lois thinks about jumping off of the building.

"Why didn't you respond to your name?" she asks instead.

He tilts his head to the side. "I-"

Lois presses on. "You replied to 'Clark', but not 'Superman'. What's with that?" She almost feels guilty for pressing when he looks so shocked.

"Would you look at that, I think there's something..." he flounders, gesturing vaguely behind him.

Lois leaps to her feet, planting her hands on her hips. "Clark, I swear to God if you leave I'm jumping off this building," she warns. "You and I-" She grabs his arms and tugs him, but it's akin to trying to tug a cruise ship. "Are going to have a grown up conversation about this."

He blushes. "Who's Clark?"

She flings her hands up in frustration. "That's it! I'm jumping off."

She doesn't even make it a full step off the side before she's floating, being held gently by Clark-Superman. He's frowning at her severely, though his 'severe' is akin to a kitten's when it chases a bug. The reporter almost laughs.

"Can you stop jumping off of things?!" he exclaims, holding her tighter against his chest. "I don't particularly enjoy watching you plummet to your doom."

"It's not my doom , Clark," she argues. "Nothing of the sort. You didn't even let me fall a full story that time."

Clark-Superman, to his credit, looks almost sheepish. He doesn't even argue about his name, which seals his fate.

Lois screams, and he flounders. "What?!" he yelps. "I didn't do anything!"

"Yes you did! You're Clark Kent. Oh my God-"

"You weren't sure?!?"

----

They're silent in her apartment, sitting across the table from each other. Lois has coffee, he has tea (because of course that beautiful dork of a man drinks tea).

"I think that jumping off a building sounds nice right about now."

The handle of his mug shatters and Lois just arches an eyebrow.

Chapter Text

"That was my favorite mug," Lois says flatly.

"Really? I'm so-" he begins, though he doesn't get far when Lois rolls her eyes.

"No. I was being sarcastic, Clark."

He musters a stern look. He's out of Superman clothes by now, sitting across from her in a hoodie and jeans. Lois appreciates it in ways that are entirely platonic. She catches herself licking her lips with a flash of burning shame. Idly, she wonders if those supersenses of his can pick up on how flustered she is.

She catches a glimpse of her face in a window, her cheeks bright pink. Maybe he doesn't need supersenses to tell she's flustered.

"So," Lois says, trying not to look at his stupid beautiful face. "I'm not going to tell anyone about your whole Superman thing."

To his credit, Clark waits for the 'but'. Even after only a couple months, he knows that there's always a 'but' when Lois Lane is involved. The woman is persistent.

"But-" Ah, there it was. "I want to be the very first one to interview you. Forever."

He raises an eyebrow and Lois is almost indignant at how that expression is so obviously hers . She's been spending too much time with him. A jealous little part of her whispers that they could be spending lots more time together.

"Won't that make people accuse me of favoritism?" he says eventually.

Lois shrugs. "Just tell them you're in love with me or something. You were charmed by my tenacity-"

"Like how you keep jumping off buildings?"

"Exactly! Just maybe not in those exact words."

Clark groans, and Lois looks away to hide just how badly she wants to kiss him in that moment.

He leaves soon after, and Lois can't help her disappointment at not doing more before he went.

----

Months pass in a frustrating blur. Superman does something cool, Lois gets her interview. Gradually, he begins whisking her off to rooftops to talk (which she doesn't mind; other reporters can't listen in that way) more often than they have a normal interview on the street.

Privately, Lois relishes how often he finds an excuse to touch her.

Privately, Clark relishes how often he gets to fly around the gorgeous reporter that he's definitely in love with at this point.

They're sitting on her couch when Clark finally makes up his mind to do something. Really, he'd been hoping she'd make the first move, but Lois was obsessed with her work nearly all the time.

"So," he says, fidgeting with his hands. "Would you ever, I dunno, want to go out with me?"

Lois raises an eyebrow. "What, like a date?"

He stammers out something about yes-i-mean-if-you-want, but Lois interrupts in that way of hers.

"Of course, Smallville."

He practically floats as she agrees. Not practically, he does float. Sometimes it's hard to remember he can fly. Lois can't seem to smother the affection bubbling in her chest.

It's just her luck that her father, of all people, decides to show up. A loud knock on the door startles them both, and Clark has about two seconds to land before Sam Lane bursts into his daughter's apartment, yelling something about a surprise inspection. Lois, like the mature woman she is, hurls a pillow at his face and tells him to shove it.

"Go away, Dad! You don't get to just barge into my home. I'm not a child!"

Sam huffs. "Then you should've made the lock harder to pick."

Lois flings another pillow at him, which he manages to dodge. "Most people don't have military tools or training. Most people wouldn't have been able to break in here."

"No," Sam agrees. "But you know who would?"

"Dad, if Superman wanted to break in here he could just punch through the wall. Not that he would ever want to, right, Clark?"

Clark, looking as tortured as ever, steps up beside Lois, gently taking the next projectile from her hands and setting it back down. "Of course not," he agrees. "His whole thing is being a hero. Why would he break in here?"

Sam whirls on him in a way that makes Lois bristle. "You tell me, buddy. It's her that's getting all chummy with that- that thing!"

The devastated look on Clark's face makes Lois snatch her projectile back up and lob it directly into her father's face. "That is for work ! And he's not a thing. He's polite and kind and selfless and nothing like you."

The room goes silent, and there is something cruel about the smug curl to Lois' lip as she realizes that she's finally managed to hurt her father for once.

General Lane leaves without any further comment.

Lois spends the rest of the night buried against her veritable mountain of a boyfriend (? She isn't sure, but the word feels right). His hands smooth down her hair, and his voice is kind as he assures her that everything will be alright. Ever-stubborn Lois Lane almost finds herself believing him. She wants to, at least.

For whatever reason, Lois' last encounter with her father left her more shaken than usual. Her interactions with him since reaching adulthood had always been terse at best, scream-y at worst. This time, though, there's the smug satisfaction of knowing that she actually managed to surprise her dad. It had been a while since she'd done that.

The last time she could recall seeing that same genuine surprise and hurt on the face of Sam Lane was on her twelfth birthday. He'd tried to pull one of his favorite tricks, tossing her into a lake and driving off, leaving her to track his ATV home. This time, however, she'd seen it coming and it wasn't like she was about to put her self-defense training to waste. When he lunged at her, she dodged and stuck out her leg (though she was caught off-guard by how easy it was to trip him) and he tumbled straight off of the dock. Treading water, he'd reached out a hand.

"Pull me up, Lois," he'd commanded, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes.

In a flash of rebellion, Lois had just turned and sprinted back to the ATV and leapt into the driver's seat. Her father's furious yells faded as she sped off through the woods. At home, she'd hidden in a closet for God-knows-how-long, shivering. The unlocking of the front door had felt like the ticking of a bomb.

Hours later, she'd crawled out of her hiding spot, dusty and hungry and terrified. He barely spared her a glance.

Neither of them had ever mentioned the incident again.

She tells herself she's grateful for how well-prepared she is, tells herself she's grateful to be able to... to track people through the woods for hours? To be able to navigate using only the North Star? Right, because she needs those skills so often in Metropolis. Self defense is marginally more useful, she grants, but when you have Superman only a call away, less needed. Right now, she thinks, glancing down at the man asleep on her couch, not needed at all.

She settles down next to him, elbowing his limbs out of the way. He mutters some kind of sleepy protest, pulling her down against his side.

"Stop poking," Clark complains. "That's not nice."

Lois rolls her eyes. "I need to ask you something," she whispered urgently.

He opened an eye, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. "Hm?"

"Are we- like, dating? Like are you my boyfriend?"

Clark sits up straighter, opening his eyes fully. "Is that what you want? I'd like that, Lois."

She nods. In silent response, he pulls her even closer into his side. It's solidly midwinter now and they don't even need a blanket. He's a veritable space heater, she realizes with a flicker of humor. Emphasis on the space.

Lois voices this cheerily, and he just groans.

----

Begrudgingly, Lois admits the survival training may have been sort of worth it. She admits this after the third or so time she's been kidnapped, and the third or so time she's broken out of whatever warehouse/bunker/lab they tried keeping her in. She's following vehicle tracks due south, reasoning that they have to be going somewhere connected to civilization.

There's a crunch in the canopy above her and she flattens herself against a tree. Then she feels wind whoosh past her face and relaxes. "Hiya, Superman," she greets brightly. "I got kidnapped again. Can you believe that?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose with a huff. "That's five times, Lois. And five times too many, I might add."

Lois hums. Okay, so three or so was closer to five. She supposed being seen with Superman a lot carried some inherent risks for an entirely human woman who walked alone around a city all day.

Clark frowns. "I don't think you're taking your own safety seriously enough, Lois. I don't want you getting hurt." His frown only deepens at her flippant reaction. He flies down to catch her by the shoulders. "Lois," he says as sternly as he can muster. "How many times do I have to find you wandering alone in the woods before you accept that this is dangerous for you?"

"I'm not wandering," she argues back. "There's tire tracks right there. Those have to lead back to civilization." She points up, raising her eyebrows. "And it's almost dark. Another half hour and the North Star will be more visible. I'm heading due south right now, and the ferns growing on that tree tell me I haven't left the state yet, and we're a few hours southwest of Metropolis if my math is right. See? I'm not wandering."

She turns back to Clark, only to jump at his startled expression. "What? Is there something-?"

He gestures wildly for a moment. "How do you know all that? You're in the middle of the woods?!"

Lois stares at him blankly. "Wilderness weekends. What, your dad never dropped you in the woods of the Pacific Northwest and told you to figure it out?"

"No?! Yours did?!"

"...Possibly?"

She finds herself wrapped up in a crushing hug.

"Did you know," Clark murmurs against her hair. "That I really don't like your dad?"

She buries her face in his chest with a watery laugh. "Did you know that I'm not a huge fan either?"

Chapter Text

Lois' knuckles were scarred. Either that, or they were just always cut. It was hard to tell. Truthfully, she could hardly remember a time when the skin on her knuckles was smooth and unblemished like everyone else's. Even during her senior prom, they were dark with the scabs of a previous day's fight.

For the first few months they're together, Clark fusses over this incessantly. She must seem pretty fragile to him, Lois reasons. If he punched a wall, it would certainly be the wall that came off worse. Unlike her, the girl that's scraped off enough skin for a lifetime. This doesn't stop her, though- sometimes it feels almost grounding to feel the satisfying sting of her knuckles splitting against brick once more. There is something marginally more satisfying in the way that Clark always insists on bandaging her hands, on rubbing neosporin into the raw skin. It's only the one, singular time that he doesn't, too caught up in some Superman thing to notice, that actually makes her change.

She slips past him silently, hunching over the sink in their bathroom and forcing herself to meet her own crazed eyes. Lois grips the cold porcelain and her breath rattles in her throat. The blood stinging her skin drips in one ruby-red drop onto the white counter.

God, she feels so stupid. Punching a wall because a lead she'd been pursuing had turned out to be a dud? That was a part of journalism, for heaven's sake.

Come on, Cadet, she hears her father's voice whisper. Breathe. Step back. Think logically.

Just as she blows out a breath, settling slightly, the voice continues.

Lanes don't feel, they conquer. You are more than some pathetic feeling. What a disappointment of a child.

She lifts her chin, and she does not see herself in the mirror. She sees a twelve year old girl, eyes bloodshot after her mother's funeral.

The child meets her eyes, and she sees her father's cold expression.

Lois Lane hurls a punch at the mirror, and ends up with a fistful of glass and a maelstrom of hurt bubbling inside her chest.

Vaguely, she hears Clark knocking on the door, calling her name frantically. "Lois? What was that crash? Are you okay? Lois?!"

As if in a dream, she sees herself opening the door. She watches his eyes flick from her bloodied knuckles to the shattered mirror and back again, and waits to be reprimanded. Some wiser part of her understands that Clark would never do that, that he's more likely to scold the offending mirror for hurting her, but she awaits it anyways. She's both surprised and not surprised at all when he just pulls her into an almost crushing hug and smooths down her hair.

His superspeed is a blessing, she thinks wryly as she watches her boyfriend clean and bandage her hands in a matter of seconds, and replace her broken vanity mirror even faster. She leans her head on her palm as he bustles about, and can't even find it in herself to be upset anymore, which in turn frustrates her further. He's so perfect, so effortlessly gorgeous every second of every day. He can pull broken glass out of her hands without risking even a papercut. He used his stupid laser eyes to melt her mirror back together, for goodness sake. It's so sweet and caring and it pisses her off.

"Why do you always do this?" Lois snaps, regretting the words as soon as they leave her lips. Mixed with that regret is a morbid sort of satisfaction, too- a sick part of her wants him to hurt too.

Then Clark turns around, his eyes twin pools of hurt and she just feels worse.

Lois practically flings herself off of the couch and sprints over to him, gripping his wrist as if she could truly stop him if he wanted to leave.

"Please," she gasps through tears. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean- Clark, don't leave, please-"

He cups her face gingerly, his thumb brushing a tear from her cheek. "I'm not leaving," he soothes. "It's okay, Lois. You're tired and frustrated-" He brings her hand up to his lips and kisses her bloodied knuckles so tenderly. "-and I'm sure you're hurting. I know you weren't trying to be mean."

Her lips quiver and she burrows into his arms. "What is wrong with you? Why aren't you ever mad at me? I let my emotions get the better of me and got myself hurt in the process. You should be yelling, should be mad-"

She's cut off when he practically crushes her in a hug, rubbing circles into her shoulder blades. "I'm not mad at you for hurting. The only thing I could possibly be mad about- and I'm not, Lois, understand? I'm not mad- is the idea that you wouldn't feel okay coming to me when you're upset. Next time you're mad, we can scream into pillows or go get dinner or just talk. You don't have to hurt yourself."

Lois lets out a watery laugh. "I should send your mother a card," she jokes. "Thanking her for raising such a wonderful man."

Clark scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Next time you need a wall punched, just call me. You know I'll come obliterate those offending walls for you," he teases. Lois just rolls her eyes, but an affectionate smile remains planted firmly on her face.

"You should advertise that," she muses. "Need a wall punched? I can smash through solid metal. No need to bruise your knuckles anymore."

He laughs louder than is perhaps necessary, but she still can't find it in herself to be upset. Maybe, she reflects quietly, joy isn't such a horrible thing to show off. Her father was never quite one for loud laughing or too-big smiles, but Clark is. And truthfully, Lois thinks they're growing on her, too.