Archive of Our Own

Clark only had so much time. Would she know if he moved? He glanced down at the shiny kitchen floor and started to lift his bare foot from the tiles. Lois' back was to him. Would she know? The tap water was running hard. The plate she cleaned smacked against the side of the sink. There was no way. She was too distracted. He could do this. He lifted his foot from the floor.

"Stop it," she said, exasperated. He chuckled. "Honestly, I should ban you from the premises."

"Please don’t do that," he said. "I’ll be good." He dropped his foot onto the floor. He was standing in his designated spot, far away from Lois and outside of the zone she declared was the Distracting Lois Lane With Clark Kent’s Stupidly Big Arms. Were his arms really that big?

"Yes," she said. She glanced at him, dropping her gaze to his biceps where he crossed them against his chest. "And you know it. Don’t play games. It’s not cute."

"But you said I was cute the other night," he said, laughing.

She shook her head and muttered under her breath, "Clearly I was delusional." The plate clattered in the sink as she scrubbed it. Lois decided late last night that she needed to clean her entire kitchen from top to bottom. As the day rolled by, she amended her declaration to include only the utensils and cutlery. Apparently, the floor, benches and the corners the friendly spiders lived in could deal with a bit of dust. It was homely, she said. Lived in. Clark had already relocated the spiders to his plants on the balcony half an hour before she got home.

She didn’t make a habit of cleaning her apartment like this whenever he was around. She never made a habit of doing that even when he wasn’t around. It was best not to question her.

"Are you going to the Justice Gang’s weekend retreat?" she asked.

"How did you know about that?"

"Michael told me."

His brow furrowed at the name. Lois turned her back to him as she turned the tap off. The sink was almost filled to the brim, with soapy bubbles threatening to spill over. Clark usually complained that she didn’t put enough water in the sink to begin with, so she often put in as little as possible. But tonight…

"Michael," he said. His tone was the kind of weird where he was figuring out what he wanted to say. Clark was a quick thinker, even though she caught him practising his potential interview answers in the mirror and loudly in the shower, but there were moments when he would take a moment too long to follow up a thought. She’d step in at this point and tease him, maybe call him Slowman instead of Superman.

But Lois was scrubbing one of her oldest pots clean. There were burnt marks along the base. Why was she so desperate to clean it? Ma always told him that pots with burn marks were pots well-loved.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She didn’t look at him. "Maybe you should go. It’d be good for you."

Why would it be good for him? He liked the Justice Gang just fine, but he couldn’t handle a weekend with Guy Gardner trying to convince him to do… anything. He was a nice guy. Clark certainly didn’t hate him. He was just… not his preferred weekend company. He wasn’t the kind of company he’d want any day of the week when he could be here instead.

"I’m… not going to the retreat," he said. She kept scrubbing. Clark slowly approached. She glanced over her shoulder, looking at him with narrowed eyes. What was she thinking? This wasn’t the first time he’d wished being a Kryptonian meant he could read minds. He pinched his brows.

She didn’t look at him. Should he step in? Maybe hip bump her aside so he could take charge? He looked down at the top of her head. Lois' scrubbing spilled water and soap onto the floor and her bare feet. He gently blew warm air over them to make it evaporate.

No laugh. That usually got some kind of reaction.

"I’m technically not a part of the team," he said. He was behind her, but there was enough space to fit at least another half of him between them. Her small kitchen always felt its size when he stood anywhere inside it. "So I figured I wouldn’t go."

"It’s because Haircut won’t offer you membership."

"I mean…" He couldn’t help his chuckle. "I haven’t said yes."

"He hasn’t asked, has he?"

Clark gently wedged himself between her and the corner of her counter. His hip brushed against her side. Lois peered at him from the corner of her eye and continued to scrub.

"Want to tell me what’s going on?" he asked gently. He tilted his head as he peered down at her.

She exhaled and stopped, sinking her hands into the water. She looked at the wall tiles in front of her. What could she see? He couldn’t help but look down, noting the shiny floor. It wasn’t shiny because of the water he’d blown away. When had she washed it? Was it when he was asleep last night? He knew that she’d gotten up! Gosh, he should’ve known. He could’ve helped.

"It’s my grandmother’s," she said. Lois cleared her throat.

"Oh."

She smiled as she looked at him. "I have family, you know."

"I know," he said, frowning again. Clark stayed where he was. She touched his bicep. Even though the fabric, he felt a warm tingle. "I didn’t think you were like Dumbo. You know… like no family? Just appeared out of thin air like a miracle."

She arched her brow. "So I’m like Dumbo?"

"A pretty Dumbo?"

"Keep digging," she said.

He chuckled. He stayed where he was as she continued to scrub the pot, shifting it in the sink as bubbles and water sloshed over the side again. Her forearm was soaked. Where was her commentary about pruny fingers and needing a hero to come save her? Why was the pot so important to clean?

When she pulled the pot free from the water and turned it upside down, Clark tapped his fingers against the kitchen counter. It was a loud sound. It was Superman tapping.

"Don’t break my counter," she said.

"Sorry," he said. He pressed his fingers flat against the countertop. "Nervous habit."

"And why are you nervous?" she asked, glancing at him. The pot dripped into the sink. Her floor was now soapy with puddles. Should he blow them away again?

"Because you’re acting strange," he said. He curved the corners of his lips upward in an attempt to try to soften any accusation she might hear. "I know something’s wrong."

"Super senses?"

"More like just paying attention at a normal rate."

"Ah." She licked her lips and shoved the pot back into the sink. "I told you."

"You did."

"And now you know."

"I’ve never seen you use this pot," he said.

"You’re not always here."

He hummed. "Lois…"

She sighed loudly through her nose. She stopped scrubbing. With her shoulders tugged back, she glared at him. "My dad’s coming to town." She lifted her brows as if to say There. Happy?

Was he happy?

Her father was coming to Metropolis. Lois Lane’s father. Someone who was more myth than real to Clark. How many times had he imagined meeting him? Over coffee. At work. Even at their wedding. (That wasn’t an ideal time to meet an in-law, but there was something romantic about it… Sometimes…)

Clark stared at her. How long had she known this? When did she start using the raspberry washing soap she’d declared was too smelly for any of her dishes? Her entire kitchen smelled of disinfectant and eucalyptus, and it tickled his nose now that he paid attention to the scents that weren’t her perfume and sweat.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, frowning. She turned to face him with narrowed eyes as she leaned her lower back against the edge of the sink. "You look… I’ve never seen this expression on your face before."

"Oh." His brows lifted. He tried to pass it off, but Clark, despite being a decent actor with everyone else, stopped being an Oscar worthy one six months ago with her. Would wearing his glasses help? No. Lois was beyond that deception. "It’s just that your dad’s coming to town."

She crossed her dripping arms against her chest. "He is."

"And I suspect he’s coming here?"

"He would be."

He hummed.

"Spit it out."

He cleared his throat. "It’s just that I… Your dad…" He moved his hands around, prompting Lois to smile. His nape and cheeks burned, and sweat formed on his brow. His heart thumped in his chest like Krypto charging across one corner of Metropolis to the other. "You know."

"I don’t."

She laughed at his glare. Clark huffed. "Am I…? I just assumed—You know… maybe I’d meet him?"

Lois didn’t look away. "Do you want to?"

He shrugged a shoulder and pursed his lips. "Maybe?" he said, the syllables growing higher in pitch. "I mean… yeah. I would. Very much."

"Okay, cool," she said. She turned back to the sink and grabbed the pot again. Her scrubbed.

"'Okay, cool'?" He frowned at her profile. Why wasn’t she looking at him? Why was this such a cool idea to her? What was so cool about it? Why was she so chill? "That’s it?"

"Yeah. Did you expect anything else?"

"I… I mean… Yeah! I’ve never met your dad before."

"At least you’ll meet him under better circumstances than I met yours," she said.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. His face was hot, and he wrung his hands together. Gosh. That was right. She’d met Ma and Pa when he was ill, and he never properly introduced them before she had to leave and he, well… he needed to sleep. And then he never invited her back. That was such poor manners—

She laughed. "Clark," she said as she dropped the pot into the sink again. She turned to face him and rested her soapy hand against his cheek. "Relax. My dad’s… not that bad."

"When you say it like that, it sounds like he’s that bad."

"The General’s just…" She shrugged as she wiped her thumb against his cheek, leaving suds in her wake. She dropped her hand. "He’s not a people person." She looked away from Clark. Was she going to turn away from him again? She made to move like she was, but Lois remained facing him, even if she wasn’t looking at him. "And he doesn’t like Superman," she said with a shrug.

What?

She abandoned the pot to grab a dry tea towel from her oven’s handle, giving him her back. He moved with her as she slipped out of the kitchen and dropped the towel on a stack of thick books piled on one of her tables.

"He doesn’t like Superman? How could he not like Superman?"

"Some people don’t," she said with a shrug as she turned to face him. Lois dropped onto the couch and crossed her legs. She avoided his gaze. "It’s a thing. Not everyone likes you."

He frowned. "People like me." He crossed his arms against his chest as he stood in front of her. "I’m likeable."

The corners of her lips curved upward, but Lois pressed them tightly together as she finally peered up at him. "Never said you weren’t."

"Why doesn’t he like Superman?"

"He just doesn’t." She scratched the back of her neck as she looked away from him. "We don’t talk that much."

Oh.

When was the last time he’d talked to Pa? Only a few hours ago. He’d called him three times today, once in the morning when grabbing his coffee, another at lunch, and then right before he left The Daily Planet to come to Lois'. Pa kept calling her Luanne, but Clark knew he knew who she was.

He watched her for a moment before his frown deepened again. "Superman does good."

"He does," she said.

"Superman… isn’t someone to worry about."

"No," she said gently. "He’s not." She settled back against the couch. He shifted his feet as she stared at him. He looked over her head at the books stacked in piles on her bookshelf. "What’s this freakout about, Clark?"

He pursed his lips. "I’m not freaking out."

"You are."

"I’m just… concerned." Glancing at her, he caught her cocking her brow. "If your dad doesn’t like Superman… maybe… I mean, I’m Superman—"

"He’ll like you, Clark."

"How do you know? You just said you don’t talk much."

"Because I like you," she said, smiling. "And I think that’s all that should matter."

Clark swivelled on his noisy chair and glanced around the bullpen for any signs of Lois and Jimmy. Of course, he already knew they were long gone, taking the Chief’s car to rush across town to the press conference. Luthor was getting out of Belle Reve. Quelle surprise, as Lois would say. Men like Lex Luthor didn’t stay down for long, although he hoped, for the other man’s sake, that he took up journalling and other hobbies that had nothing to do with pocket universe domination.

It’d be a long time before he played around with that part of the universe. Superman’s deal with A.R.G.U.S. had made sure of it.

Man, it was lonely without Lois and Jimmy around. After spending the last few weeks as Superman, while pretending Clark Kent was at the print shop, coffee shop or some other shop, he wasn’t sure how to spend his downtime now that Jimmy wasn’t here to play paper basketball into Lois' trash can.

He turned back to his computer and shifted his chair closer to his desk. His keyboard was always so loud to his ears, even when he typed as quietly as a mouse tiptoeing across the kitchen of his parents’ house. Headphones didn’t block out any sounds.

Clark grabbed his notebook and turned to the back page, flipping it over to where he’d written three words in capital letters.

GENERAL SAMUEL LANE.

The underline was to show how serious he was. (A lesson from Lois. You’re not serious unless there’s an underline, Kent. It’d been one of the first things she’d told him when he rocked up to The Daily Planet wide-eyed and bushy-tailed—and in plaid, of course.)

What he discovered wasn’t anything new. General Samuel Lane was a respected man who took no prisoners. He didn’t mince his words, and he didn’t care for ridiculously long-winded questions. Lois inherited his impatience, if the TikToks were anything to go by. Clark expected the General to consider disappearing into the countryside for a quiet retirement after a lively military career, but General Lane was still hungry for action.

He was entering politics. And every time he was covered by The Daily Planet, it was by every other report but the Planet’s most prized one… and himself, but that’d require him to be around long enough not chasing festival exclusives and Superman to throw his hat in that ring.

Clark was careful when he leaned back in his chair so he didn’t snap it in half again. Even though most of his friends were off-site, Steve Lombard and Cat Grant were stationed at their desks. The last time he broke his chair, Steve made some quip that was favourable to his mother (they always were) while Cat laughed and made some kind of comment that prompted heat to bloom from somewhere other than the back of his eyes. His chair squeaked, as it always did under his weight.

He tapped his fingers together. That was another one of Lois' early lessons. If he wasn’t tapping his fingers as he contemplated a puzzle, what was he doing? It surely wasn’t Pulitzer-winning journalism.

There were times when Clark wondered if Lois had given him a list of rules as a test.

He scrolled the search engine webpage before clicking out and onto his search on the Planet’s archive. One of General Lane’s latest interviews was with John Corben.

GENERAL SAMUEL LANE HIGHLY COVETED FOR SECRETARY OF DEFENSE

METROPOLIS — For the last few years, rumor has it that highly commended and awarded General Samuel Lane was heading for the big office. The man himself has now put that rumor to rest with an exclusive with The Daily Planet.

General Lane is one of, if not the best, the US Army has to offer.

When asked about Lex Luthor’s arrest after it was discovered he created the black hole that almost led to the destruction of Metropolis and the loss of many of its civilians, General Lane said, "It’s that kind of technology we need to keep out of the city. But I can understand the rationale behind Mr. Luthor’s thinking.

"Meta humans run amok amongst us. They’re starting to make the rules. They’re starting to override those rules. Superman’s latest stunt in Jarhanpur might have been well-meaning and ensured our eyes were looking in the right direction at a time when we might have overlooked Luthor’s misguided attempt to overtake the country, it opens a box that I doubt Pandora herself wants open."

General Lane then went on to say that the meta humans might have proven themselves to be assets to the community, but they’re unlawful and out of control. "Yes, I see that many of them try to protect us from our malicious-intended ilk, it’s the fact that there are meta humans who intend to harm us that is a problem."

Superman is one of Metropolis’s most respected and praised meta humans, with many saves under his thick red belt. The Justice Gang, funded by Maxwell Lord of LordTech, have also proven to be valuable in securing Metropolis’s safety.

"If meta humans start relying on funding from the billionaires to feel compelled to help us, then we’re in big trouble," General Lane said. "We need laws to protect us from them. Not just from their abilities, which go unchecked. We need to ensure that they’re doing what’s right by us for good reason."

General Lane has gone on record numerous times over his prolific career in stating that the men and women who join the US Army do so out of a selfless desire to serve their country and its people. "I want to see that from meta humans," he said. "Otherwise, who’s to say we can rely on this Superman to save us when another billionaire creates a world-destroying issue that relies on the superheroes to then come save us from? Everyone can be bought, even a Kryptonian."

Like General Lane, this reporter wonders if Superman has a price.

"You shouldn’t be reading that," Lois said.

Clark jumped. She laughed. "I—" He didn’t try to click out of the window.

She perched on his desk, glancing down at his notebook. "Came back early, in case you were too polite to ask," she said. She smelled like roses and the expensive perfume he’d bought her for their sixth month anniversary (her choice). Her hair was still wind-mussed, and her hands and cheeks were a light pink. She picked up his pen and tapped the page, leaving a few dots in its wake. "Doing research?" she asked quietly.

He cleared his throat.

"I’m not mad," she said with a smile. He wanted to believe that. Lois' tells were easy. She would grit her teeth, start throwing insults that felt sharper than Kryptonite of any kind wedged between his ribs, and throw his pens around his desk. But she was still. She stopped spearing the pen into his notebook. "You should pitch to Perry you want to interview him."

"What?"

She glanced at his monitor. "He’s going to be in town. Every reporter who’s ever sat underneath our globe has been desperate to interview him. He’s a big milestone for the career bedpost."

His heart ricocheted. Could she hear it? He shook his head. "That’s not why—" He shifted toward his desk and felt compelled to click out of the article. "I was just…" He sighed. "I don’t want to interview him."

The end of the pen ended up trapped between her teeth. "Why not?"

"Because… It’s a conflict of interest, isn’t it?"

She cocked her brow. "How so?’

"Because…" He looked at her. She was amused. It was always a good sign when she was smiling around her pen. "I mean…" He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. "You and me…"

Her laugh made his stomach grow warm. "You’re cute." She inhaled deeply and looked back at the computer. "Ask. I think it’d be good for you if you did."

"Why?"

"Because you could grill him on the questions no one’s got the guts to ask him," she said. She looked at him and lifted her brows. Clark shuffled closer and peered up at her, his knee bumping into hers. Lois didn’t tilt her leg away, resting her knee against his as she leaned down. "The super questions," she murmured.

Why couldn’t the earth open up and swallow him whole again? Maybe if it did it of its own accord, he’d have an easier time dealing with being in another pocket dimension. Two days had passed, and Perry had somehow gotten it into his head that Clark Kent would interview General Sam Lane. Corben wasn’t around to pick up where he left off with his previous interview, and Lois was suddenly tied up in several stories that made it impossible for her to be available to interview anyone who wasn’t on her list.

Clark smacked his lips as he swivelled on his chair. It was strange being at The Daily Planet without Lois sitting in her chair, tapping her pen against the keyboard or muttering to herself. Jimmy had said so, kicking away from his desk and rolling across the floor on his chair. He stopped by Lois' desk and hovered his hands over the organised mess.

Clark tutted. "I wouldn’t if I were you."

Jimmy cocked his brow and kept his hands hovering. "I could be brave."

"You could be a dead man." Clark smiled. Maybe he should encourage it. What was there to lose, other than Jimmy losing a hand? The loss would be worth it.

Jimmy lowered his hand as though he was going to be a brave dead man, but he withdrew and slapped his palm against the arm of his chair. "Next time," he muttered over his pounding heart. He shifted in his chair, causing the wheels to groan beneath his weight. He eyed Lois' desk with interest like he’d never seen it before. Granted, Clark hadn’t seen much of it, either, considering how it was always covered in papers and sticky notes.

Her notes were piled neatly in the corner, although the sticky notes were plastered over her monitor, keyboard and randomly over her desk. Lois' management system was one he couldn’t wrap his head around. Maybe that was one thing a Kryptonian would never get to see through.

"Maybe she’s late," Jimmy said as he rolled across the floor to his desk and smacked the edge with the back of his chair. "She can be late." No, she couldn’t, but he wasn’t going to say that.

Clark pressed his lips together and shrugged. "I’ll be surprised if Lois even comes in."

"Why?" Jimmy asked, spinning in his chair. "She lives here. I think she has a bed in the basement."

Clark clucked his tongue. Jimmy was one of the few who hadn’t attended the meeting about the General. He’d been busy photographing kittens Elemental Man had saved from a tree. "Her dad’s coming to town."

Jimmy stopped spinning. "What?"

Did he say the wrong thing? Clark swallowed hard and resisted the urge to shift in his chair. If he did, Jimmy would know that he felt uncomfortable, and he didn’t need Jimmy prying into why. He was just Lois Lane’s coworker, maybe a friend, definitely someone she tolerated, even though she snapped at him as she did everyone else. But that was Lois' way of expressing friendship. He and Jimmy had determined that with the help of Steve and Cat, although the Chief was the person to confirm it for them.

Didn’t Lois tell Jimmy her dad was coming to town? They were friends. They always got their morning coffee together and never invited him on the rare day he wasn’t running late to work. They spoke in a code that didn’t make any sense to Clark, but he was fine with being on the outs if it meant that his two best friends were having a good time.

Why hadn’t she told him? Jimmy knew things about General Lane that Clark couldn’t discover from reading about him in the newspapers. Wasn’t that a sign of friendship?

He popped his lips. "Um." Pressing them into a thin line, he dug his feet into the ground and stopped when he felt the floorboards start to give. "I just—"

"General Lane’s coming?" Jimmy asked, his eyes widening. His mouth fell open. "This is… Oh my god. Do you know what this means?"

Clark frowned. "That Lois' dad will be here?"

Jimmy shook his head. "No, you amateur. It means that we’ve hit the jackpot!" His face brightened as his open mouth formed a smile. He made a sound like a laugh, although it did sound a bit like he was choking… "You know all those things we don’t know about Lois and just assume are true because she never bothers to correct us? All those contradictions we have?"

"Yeah…"

Jimmy smiled widely. "The Lois Conspiracy Board might get a few answers."

Oh, gosh. Clark shook his head. "No, Jimmy—"

"We can finally find out what her favourite colour is."

"I’m pretty sure it’s purple."

"And, most of all, we can find out the answer to the question that’s been haunting us forever."

Admittedly, Clark couldn’t remember what that question was, given that he had so many questions about Lois Lane that had haunted him for a long time. What was it that drove her to believe in Superman implicitly? Why did she fight so hard for his name to be Superman in the papers? Why did she like him, of all people? Bumbling Clark, with clothing that felt a size too big. Her liking of Superman had made sense. He was everything that was partly worthy of Lois Lane. But Clark Kent?

Jimmy was rambling. Clark narrowed his eyes as he tried to follow his train of thought, but that was another thing he couldn’t keep up with. Give him a bullet to chase, and he’d catch it maybe a few seconds before or after The Flash, give or take if he had Ma’s scrambled eggs that morning, but keeping up with Jimmy Olsen? Not even Supergirl could get her hands on him.

"Wouldn’t that be cool to know?" Jimmy said, raising his eyebrows at Clark.

What was that again? Clark cleared his throat. "Yeah. That’d be cool to know."

Jimmy spun in his chair. "This is so cool. We get to prove Lois is a real person."

"She was always real."

"You know what I mean," Jimmy said with a wave of his hand. "God, I hope he comes here, and I can make him coffee."

Clark narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

That was met with a scoff. Jimmy leaned back in his chair and corrected his balance before he tipped over. He frowned at him, shaking his head like he was a poor farm boy who couldn’t keep up with the cool city kids. "Because I want to know if he takes half a case of sugar in his coffee, too."

In all fairness, Clark wanted to know that, too.

Lois would’ve told him her father was in town, right? He looked at his phone and saw nothing from her. Of course, she was busy. There were rumours Luthor was getting out of Belle Reve earlier than anticipated, and there was all that trouble with the Peacemaker guy in Washington. She was most likely chasing that story.

So why was Jimmy telling him that General Sam Lane was already in town?

"I’m telling you! I saw the back of his head outside Jitters!" Jimmy sat on the corner of Clark’s desk, his feet barely touching the ground as he smacked his hands against a stack of papers. He threw his head back dramatically. What was he looking at on the ceiling? Clark tipped his head back to look. "It’s like seeing Dua Lipa in the wild, man."

Clark narrowed his eyes as he looked at Jimmy. "Who’s Dua Lipa?"

Jimmy sighed and pushed off his desk. He stepped away from him with his head bowed. "I can’t take you anywhere."

Clark bit back his smile. He cleared his throat. "But, seriously…" It was impossible not to smile, but he pressed his lips into a thin line and bit the inside of his cheeks. Success. He kept his brows drawn tightly together as he watched Jimmy skip back to his desk and drop into his chair. "Who’s that?"

Jimmy turned to face him, pulling his chair across the space between them. With his hands pressed together in a prayer, he said, "Please tell me you did not just ask me who Dua Lipa is." Jimmy breathed like Clark had punched him in the gut… at less than a quarter of his strength. If he punched Jimmy at even half his strength, he’d be broken in half. There was a reason why he’d stopped fist-bumping him.

Clark pursed his lips and shrugged, swivelling in his chair. "Who?"

"Oh my god." Jimmy disappeared behind his hands as he bowed forward, carding his fingers roughly through his hair. When he released his hair, it stuck up at all ends. Some of the photocopy girls—Chelsea and Samantha, not that Jimmy would know that—kept glancing over with bright smiles. Their hearts pounded. Clark covered his smile by scratching the corner of his mouth. "I can’t believe we’ve led you astray."

Clark frowned. "I just don’t know Pop."

"She’s Dua freaking Lipa!" Jimmy threw his arms wide. "She’s, like, the queen of holidaying. But I guess it makes sense why you wouldn’t know her." He frowned as he eyed Clark. "When’s the last time you took a day off?"

Well, before a black hole ravaged the city, he was hoping to take Lois away for their three month anniversary… But Clark Kent had been holed up in Smallville investigating the sighting of the rumoured golden chicken while Superman saved the day, and Lois Lane saved Superman. It wasn’t the best story cover, but Lois always snorted whenever she mentioned it, so Clark kept using it. He’d once promised Jimmy he’d invite him to the farm a year ago, and kept failing to drag him along whenever he did go visit Ma and Pa.

Best not to mention his plans to take Lois to the farm in a few weeks. Clark cleared his throat.

"Exactly!" Jimmy said as soon as Clark opened his mouth. "Never." He slapped his hands against his thighs and smiled like he’d solved one of the world’s greatest, most pressing secrets. But there was more slapping coming from behind him. Clark didn’t turn around, and Jimmy didn’t look away from him. They were familiar footsteps. Couldn’t Jimmy hear them? "That’s why you won’t know her," Jimmy said with a smile. "See? It all makes sense."

"What makes sense?" Lois asked.

Jimmy startled. Clark forgot to jump in his chair as he swivelled around to face her. There was one of his many lucky pens between her teeth.

Lois' lips curved upward as she glanced at him. His heart skipped as something warm tugged low in his belly. She looked nice with the sun slanting through The Daily Planet’s windows behind her. Not angelic—that was too lame for Lois Lane—but pretty.

"Why I don’t know who Dua Lipa is," he said.

Lois cocked her brow, the pen still trapped between her teeth. "Who?"

"Oh my god!" Jimmy cried, turning in his chair and soaring toward his desk. "It’s like I work with—"

"Be careful what you say, Olsen," Lois said, voice deepening in her threat. She smiled when he gripped his hair and growled in frustration. "It’s so fun stirring him," she said, loud enough for Jimmy to hear. That was definitely intentional.

Clark should’ve turned back to his desk, but he kept looking at her. "Your dad’s featuring in the newspaper," he said. Maybe it was better he get ahead of Jimmy. "Gossip column."

The pen stayed between her teeth. Lois' face didn’t move. No smile. No twitch of her nose. No crinkle of her eye. Nothing. "He’s going to hate that." She rolled her eyes. Plucking the pen from her teeth, she looked at him with a cocked brow. "Why were you reading up on my dad? He’s not doing anything interesting."

Would her dad hate that? Gossip columns kept people at the forefront. The Luthors enjoyed it. Clark lifted his brows and couldn’t school his face in time when Lois glanced at him. "Just curious," he said.

"About?"

"Your dad."

"Everyone’s curious about your dad," Jimmy said as he turned in his chair. "I mean, he’s your dad."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"That he’s cool?" Jimmy said. Clark knew he wasn’t poking fun. Lois' dad was a myth around the office. He was seven feet tall, could breathe fire, and maybe had dragon scales. Their imaginations might have gone wild thanks to the alien of the week being a dragon hybrid creature, most likely generated by LuthorCorp. General Lane was known for being unflappable, so… one plus one meant he was a dragon. It made sense when they were all brainstorming drunk, with Clark pretending to be drunk off his ass.

"He’s not cool," Lois said, looking at them like they had declared themselves to be dragon hybrids. But she didn’t glare at either of them, darting her gaze to look elsewhere. Clark tried to follow, but he didn’t know where she was looking. Certainly not at Steve’s desk where he was shouting at his computer to please turn on with a few more profanities than Clark needed to hear at this hour… or ever.

"Why?" Jimmy asked. He reached for his notepad without breaking eye contact.

Lois cocked her brow. "Really?" she deadpanned as she glanced at the notebook.

He shrugged. "Just wanting to keep my facts straight, is all."

She rolled her eyes. "He’s not cool," she said again. "He’s just my dad."

"But he’s—"

"If you say he’s just your dad one more time, I’m going to jam this pen into your eye."

"That’s my lucky pen." Clark pouted. He grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and folded it on his lap.

She shrugged. "Hasn’t brought me much luck."

"But he’s here," Jimmy said.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Lois' shoulders stiffened. She kept her gaze away from either of them, off in the distance where he couldn’t follow. Was she looking at the sunlight slanting through the windows? The papers lingering underneath Lola Barnett’s neatly organised desk?

She glanced down at her coffee mug. "Coffee tastes like tar."

Jimmy eyed her, tapping his pen against his notepad that said Lois' DAD in block letters with several underlines. "How do you know what oil tastes like? Was it because of—"

Clark threw a paper plane at Jimmy’s shoulder, its sharp nose hitting exactly where he wanted it to hit.

Lois pulled the pen from between her teeth and shook her head. Clark opened his mouth, wanting to say… something. But what? What could he say that would be appropriate between colleagues? What he wanted to say was what a boyfriend would say to his girlfriend, and The Daily Planet wasn’t the time or place. She approached Jimmy and tapped him on the head with her pen before turning her back on them.

Could he salvage the conversation?

"Think I could get that back?" Clark asked.

She didn’t turn around as she dropped into her chair at her desk. "Nope!"

Golly. Had Clark ever seen Lois' floor before? He closed the door to her apartment gently behind him and shrugged out of his blazer, hanging it on her hook. Wait, what? He could see the actual hooks. He’d never seen them before. They were a mythical creature, like the Loch Ness Monster (who happened to be very real), that people thought they saw but could never confirm an actual sighting.

With careful steps, he made his way into her apartment. Her kitchen was spotless. Pots hung from hooks. He could see the actual countertop. The crumbs from his toast last night were wiped away. He ventured further and stopped at the doorway of her living room.

A bomb had gone off inside.

Her books were scattered all over the floor. Some of them formed piles at the back of her couch. Lois sat cross-legged on the floor near her longest bookshelf with books surrounding her like she was a princess tucked inside a castle. Where was the moat and the fire-breathing dragon he’d have to defeat to get to her?

He stood in the archway of her living room. She wasn’t facing him. Her dark hair was knotted at the back. Had she worn it in a loose braid and somehow unravelled it over however long she’d been sitting here, creating this mess? He cleared his throat. She didn’t look up from the books balanced on her lap.

"Lois?" he said.

Without looking behind her, she dropped one of the books on top of what he supposed was meant to be a pile. It slid off in a landslide. "Ugh!" She blew her hair away from her face before she looked at him. "This is impossible!"

He frowned. "What is?"

"Alphabetising!"

Was she alphabetising now? For as long as Clark had known Lois, she had always spoken about needing to alphabetise her book collection. It was always going to be a weekend job, and then it would be a task she completed over a long weekend, although she always ended up working those public holidays because all the best stories fell when the office was closed.

When she picked up one of the books in front of her and eyeballed the spine, he said, "Why are you alphabetising?"

"Because my dad’s obsessed with the alphabet," she said as she dropped the book on another pile that collapsed under the weight.

Books were everywhere. Notebooks, hardcovers, softcovers, and folders he’d never seen before. They were all carefully laid out in a way that would only make sense to Lois. To anyone else, it looked like she’d decided to throw everything everywhere and see where it landed. But he could see some of the logic. Her old notes from her junior journalist days were in the folders he’d never seen (although it was easy to know what was inside, considering she wrote JUNIOR JOURNO NOTES). The softcovers with the worn spines were closest to the side of the couch, while the softcovers with the almost-perfect spines sat near the coffee table. The hardcovers were sorted by size and, in some cases, by colour.

He slowly waded through the landmines she’d set for him to trip over as he made his way toward her. He couldn’t sit. The floor was covered in books. Clark squatted and shifted some of the piles toward the bookshelf so he could mimic her. Sitting in front of her, he leaned toward her in an effort to catch her eye.

She wasn’t looking at him.

"Lois…" he said softly.

"He didn’t tell me he was coming," she said. "He always cancels, and he did. Half the time, Wes is the one who tells me he’s not coming." Lois kept her gaze focused on the books by her knee. She picked one up and dropped it as soon as she tilted the spine toward her.

"Lois—"

She shook her head. "You don’t get it, Clark," she said. Her shoulders slumped. She brushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, only for it to escape when she looked down at her lap. "Your parents are normal. They’re cool."

He thought they were punk rock, too, but he didn’t think Lois would laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood, so he cleared his throat gently. "They’re known to be that," he said.

She sighed. Lois kept her gaze downcast for a few moments before she looked at him. Her eyes darted off to the side. He didn’t look over his shoulder to follow, wanting to watch her instead. "They accept you for who you are." She pulled her brows together as she looked at him. "I bet they come to your apartment and think it’s grand."

"They actually think it’s pretty barren."

Jackpot. She smiled. "I can’t help but agree with them."

He shrugged. "I’ve been busy."

Lois hummed. She let her shoulders sag as she looked at the books lying around her. "I need to alphabetise all of this."

"Can we take a few steps back first? I need you to connect some dots for me."

She licked her lips as her gaze settled on something on the lower bookshelf. Clark looked over at it, but all he could see were books slanted and piled along it. Her bookshelf wasn’t the beautiful mess it usually was. It was like someone had come along and gutted everything that made it Lois Lane.

"Everything has to be perfect," she said quietly. She glanced at him before she darted her gaze away and dragged her finger along a hardback. "The General accepts nothing less."

He shifted where he sat, edging closer to her. He wanted to reach for her, but he curled his hands in his lap. "Your place is perfect."

Lois chuckled. "No," she said, looking at him. "It’s sad."

He frowned. "I don’t see anything sad about it," he said as he looked around. "There are books, newspapers. There’s a great couch."

She smiled and exhaled roughly. "It’s not… what he would picture for me. Every home we had was… sterile, Clark. It wasn’t like your home with the posters and the cows."

"We didn’t always have cows, you know," he said lightly. A little flutter warmed his stomach when she gave him a small smile. "But I think I understand. He’s hard to impress."

She lifted her eyebrows as she made a noise of amusement. "That’s an understatement." She exhaled roughly before she carded a hand through her hair. "It’s easier to be a disappointment when he doesn’t come."

He couldn’t understand that. He was glad he couldn’t. But Lois drummed her fingers against the cover of a book in her lap. Alphabetising her books might not be what would impress General Lane when he did arrive, but it gave her a sense of control.

"Well," he said, exhaling. "Can I help?"

Lois bit her lip as she eyed him. Clark sat straighter and smiled. He didn’t look away from her. Her scrutiny had always prompted him to stand taller and try to be braver. This was no different than accepting a story from the great Lois Lane. It was better. He got to help her as someone who wasn’t her bumbling colleague.

"Yeah," she said before she grabbed a pile of books and thrust them into his lap. "Organise these."

Clark laid the books out with their spines facing upwards. He laughed. How in the hay was he meant to organise these books when none of them started with the same letter? "Are we organising by title or…?"

Lois frowned. "By page count."

He stared at her. "You’re joking, right?"

She frowned as she tilted her head. "Does it look like I’m joking?"

He’d find out three hours and ninety-three sorted books later that she was joking. General Lane expected the books to be organised by the author’s surname.

He stood in the small foyer, bigger and more gangly than he’d ever been before. Did her apartment shrink overnight? Was the doorframe always this short? He tugged at the lapels of his jacket and tried to straighten it without making it too obvious he was doing so. But Clark was big bones and bigger muscles, and he felt Lois' description of him being oversized more than ever now as he gently closed the door of her apartment behind him.

He’d heard the voices when he was inside the elevator, but he’d thought perhaps it was her neighbour hosting friends again. But now he knew. The voices, the grunts, the light laughter that wasn’t Lois' was coming from her apartment. General Lane was early.

His heart skipped. His guts twisted like they were the tight rope he always gave Krypto to unravel.

He walked to the kitchen and stopped. A woman with dark brown hair stood at the sink with her back to him. She was slim and slightly taller than Lois. "Lo," she said, "you can’t live on two-minute noodles every day. You’ll end up turning into one."

"Please, I can be a badass reporting noodle." Lois' voice came from her living room.

The woman who wasn’t Lois laughed. She reached for the dish towel and did a double-take when she saw him. She smiled. Her eyes were a light blue, and her lips were painted a blood-red. "Hi."

Was it boiling in her apartment? Did he wear the right jacket? He felt like he was tied up in Kryptonite-laced rope again. Moving was impossible. His skin warmed. Gosh, he should’ve taken off his jacket. He lifted his hand in a pathetic wave to the woman who looked a little like Lois. "Hello. I’m, uh, Clark. Kent." He stepped forward and held out his hand.

She looked at it with amusement before shaking it, her long manicured nails curling into the back of his hand. "Lucy. Lois' better half."

Lois snorted as she stomped into the kitchen. "That’s what she thinks." He dropped Lucy’s hand and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. He took them out again. What did people do with their hands again? She opened the fridge before peering over the top of it with arched brows. "Hi, Clark," Lois said, although her words sounded heavier than they normally should. She didn’t break eye contact. "My family came a little earlier than planned."

"I see…"

Lucy wrinkled her nose. "I hope we didn’t throw your plans out of whack, sis."

Lois rolled her eyes as she closed the fridge empty-handed. "No one talks like that."

"Everyone in Star City does."

"That’s Star City."

Clark cleared his throat. "Is, uh… your dad here?"

Lois smacked her lips as she shook her head. She leaned her back against the kitchen counter, curling her hands around the edge. "He’s out."

Right. Good? He couldn’t glean how she felt about it. Her heart was as steady as a rock. Her face was as hard to read. That meant she wasn’t okay. Lois was as easy to read as the newspaper when she was in a good mood.

"Getting real food," Lucy said. She leaned back against the counter near the sink, the dish towel in her hands. Side by side, it was clear as day that Lois and Lucy were sisters. Lucy stood an inch taller than Lois, but Lois… She always took up the most space. Her hair was darker and longer, and her eyes were as bright as the ocean on a summer day. Lucy’s hair was a dark, chocolate brown, cut a little past her shoulders, and her blue eyes were cooler with hints of green. She also smelled of roses, while Lois smelled of… Lois. She always smelled nice, especially with hints of sweat.

Lucy was watching him. What was she trying to see? Clark stood taller. "So, you’re a farmer," she said.

"I grew up on a farm," he said.

Lois tutted as she turned toward her sister. "Be nice."

Lucy frowned, looking at her. "I am being nice." Shaking her head, she looked at Clark. "Sheesh. I didn’t realise I couldn’t ask questions."

"You’re not a journalist, so you can only make statements."

"So you’re a farmer."

Clark smiled. "Kind of."

"So you know how to milk cows?"

"That’s generally what a farmer does."

"Has Lo ever milked a cow?"

Lois laughed. Clark pressed his lips together to try to stop himself from following suit, but he was smiling anyway. "I haven’t let her near Bessie yet."

Lucy smacked her hand against the counter’s edge. Her smile and eyes were wide, and he couldn’t see the family resemblance anymore. Lois never looked surprised like that. "There’s no way you have a cow named Bessie."

Her name was Elizabeth Gertrude Wilhelmina Kent, and he had named her when he was trying to make all the farm animals sound distinguished. He was young… around early twenties. He’d been going through a lot.

Lois pushed away from the counter and slipped between them. She turned, leaned against the doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room, and crossed her arms against her chest. Her eyes crinkled in amusement and what he suspected was some irritation. "Are we done with this weird Q&A?"

Lucy bit her lip. She sounded amused when she said, "I’m just getting started."

Clark looked at Lois. She pressed her lips together, unamused. "I’m sorry," she said.

He shrugged. "I like it." And he did. Meeting Lois' family was something he’d always fantasised about. Her sister, whom he knew so little about, would hopefully grill him, just like they did on television. Her father would, well… He never really daydreamed about what her father would be like. Clark rolled his shoulders and stepped into the kitchen. He tugged his sleeves up his forearms as he said, "If you let me cook something for dinner, you can ask me all the questions you like."

Lucy turned to Lois. "I like him."

Lois shrugged. "He’s okay."

Clark smiled as he set to work, ushering both Lanes out of the small kitchen. It was usually impossible to make a decent meal with the little Lois packed in her kitchen, but he found an almost-fully stocked fridge and a cupboard filled with dry ingredients that belonged in the pantry. He set to work, determined to make a simple pasta. Would something like her packet noodles settle Lois' nerves? Lucy didn’t linger by the doorframe, although Lois did, turning back and forth between the living room and the kitchen to keep them both entertained. He suspected she wanted to ensure Lucy remained on her best behaviour… and probably wished the same for him, too. It was easy joking with Lucy, especially when it meant he learned more about Lois.

A punk rock kid who moved from town to town. A big sister who was a nag. A big sister who read too many books and liked to leave some of them in parks and at army bases when they had to move, thanks to their father’s station. Some of those things he knew, while many others were a pleasant surprise.

They were seated in the living room, Lois cross-legged on the couch, Lucy bowed beside her, and Clark in the armchair, when the front door creaked open and heavy footsteps settled into the foyer.

A deep, gruff voice said, "Navigating the streets is a nightmare—"

Lois was quick to put her plate on the coffee table and draw her legs down so that she could’ve rivalled The Flash’s speed. "Dad—"

The footsteps were heavy and quick, the strides long. Clark watched Lois sit up straight, while Lucy slouched slightly despite straightening where she sat. General Lane was a tall, broad man with an unhappy mouth and a severe expression. He stood in the doorframe leading into the living room, staring at the three of them. His gaze skimmed over Clark like he was a page not worth reading.

"Oh." General Lane glanced down at the brown bags in his hands. "I guess you’ve already eaten."

"We had no idea how long you’d be," Lucy said. She kept her plate on her lap. She smiled as she looked at him. "But Clark made us a delicious dinner."

General Lane followed her gaze. Clark’s heart ricocheted like a series of bullets inside his chest, collapsing into the pit of his stomach.

Clark stood with his plate and fork in hand. "Mr—General Lane. I’m Clark. Kent. Kent Clark. I mean, Clark Kent."

Lois stood and brushed her hands in front of her. She didn’t step beside him. Clark wished she would so he could hold her hand.

The General inhaled deeply through his nose as he sized him up. Clark stood a head taller than him, but he felt smaller and shorter under his sharp gaze. His mouth remained downturned as he studied him. Clark made sure to smile, though that was a mistake.

"So this is the bumbling idiot from work," said General Lane.

Lois sighed as she stepped in front of him. "He’s not an idiot." Her hands were clasped in front of her.

The General didn’t look away from him. "But he’s bumbling." Was he meant to react? Lois had called him an idiot and a bumbling one many times over their shared time at The Daily Planet. It was flirting by this point.

Clark licked his lips as he looked at the back of Lois' head.

General Lane sighed as he turned on his foot and stopped like he wasn’t sure where to step next. Was Lois' apartment really a series of landmines no one felt comfortable navigating? Clark stepped around Lois. "Let me take these, sir." He held out his hands and exhaled softly when General Lane handed him the bags.

He went into the kitchen to unpack them, although he kept his ear tilted toward the living room.

Lois cleared her throat. "So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?"

General Lane grunted. "Sightseeing, I suppose. Luce wanted to take me to some museum."

"It’s a superhero museum," Lucy said, sounding excited. "I read they’ve opened a new exhibit for the Green Lantern."

Lois scoffed. "Please don’t tell me you like him."

"I think he’s charming."

Lois made a barfing sound.

General Lane chuckled. Clark heard him take a seat on the couch, probably the armchair he’d vacated, given how the springs sounded.

"I’m surprised you even want to go, considering your feelings," Lois said.

"I figured I’d enjoy some of the city with Lucy," General Lane said. He sighed. "Someone told me I don’t spend enough time doing the things I don’t want to do." Was there a little humour to his voice? That sounded like something Lois would say.

"So, what are we going to do together?"

"Assuming you can break away from work?" General Lane hummed. "I was thinking of you giving me a tour of the Planet."

"You want a tour?" Lois said, sounding surprised. She exhaled loudly, perhaps louder than she intended. Clark banged a cupboard in an attempt to vocalise his agreement. That sounded like a great idea. Ma and Pa always wanted to see the Planet… "Okay, I can give you a tour."

"And an interview," he said.

Lois was quiet.

Clark lingered in the kitchen, unsure whether he should continue pretending he was putting away the groceries once the task was done. He opened a cupboard, moved a few plates around again, and closed it.

"What, Lois?" General Lane said. There was a sharpness to his voice that Clark couldn’t read. He’d never heard Pa speak like that to him ever.

"I’m… just not sure," Lois said.

Okay, he’d been in here long enough. Clark moved to the doorframe and crossed his arms against his chest as he leaned against it. Did he appear intimidating? Closed off? He wanted to look like he didn’t want to intrude… Should he uncross his arms? Too late. Lois had glanced at him before looking down at the ground. He didn’t like how she looked. Why was she trying to be smaller?

General Lane exhaled. He twisted in the armchair to look at Clark. "Then you do it."

What? "Me?" He lifted his brows.

"I said you, didn’t I?"

Clark opened his mouth. What was he meant to do? What was he meant to say? How did words work again on this planet? He looked at Lois, who was looking up at him with her head still ducked. Her eyes were wide, expectant. What did she want him to do? Did she want him to say yes? But if he didn’t say yes… "I, uh… Sir. It’d be better if Lois did. She’s the best."

"And you’re second best, if Lo’s descriptions of your subpar prose are anything to go by."

"She’s quite complimentary of your writing," Lucy said, like he needed that translated. Her smile appeared strained.

Why was his mouth suddenly dry? He looked at Lois and gaped like a fish. Should he push back on this? He should. General Lane was here for Lois, not him… And wasn’t this a ploy to get her to take the interview? He’d recognised this kind of tactic. He’d seen Lois pull it numerous times before, tugging at everyone’s strings to get the interview she wanted, to get the photojournalist she needed (usually Jimmy), and Perry often fell for it, although Clark suspected Perry entertained Lois' antics because she was Lois freaking Lane. Clark didn’t mind being used in such a way when it was Lois manipulating his strings…

Lois stared at him, lifting her brows. "Yes," she said, voice tense. Frak, she was annoyed. "He’ll do it."

"Kent can’t speak?" General Lane said, shaking his head. "That’s not a good sign of a journalist."

"Yes," Clark said too quickly. "Yes. I can. Yes." Speak? Interview him? Gosh, what was he even saying? How was the General even taking his answers? Did it matter? The General’s expression hadn’t changed at all, but Clark knew, somehow, that it did, anyway. He shifted against the doorframe. "Of course. It’d be great."

General Lane smiled. He reached for Lois' plate and took a bite. He hummed. "Delicious," he said. He pointed the fork at Clark. Clark did his best not to step back like he was being threatened with Aquaman’s trident again. "You’re a good cook. Could teach Lo a thing or two."

He forced a smile to his face when all he wanted to do was shrink into nothing. He could fool himself into believing that he was comfortable. As the late afternoon progressed into evening, Clark felt… okay. The butterflies stayed put in his belly, fluttering about his ribcage like they couldn’t find purchase among the many rungs of his lungs, but things were… alright. General Lane hadn’t condemned him, and Lois hadn’t combusted yet.

After Clark had nudged the dirty plates from Lois' hands and washed and dried them all by himself, giving the Lanes time to do what Lanes did (which still remained a mystery, even when he tried not to listen while also trying to listen over the running water), Clark joined them in the living room. Lois sat cross-legged on the couch, more comfortable than he’d seen her all night, while Lucy crossed her ankles on the coffee table and rested her cheek against her elbow on the couch’s arm. General Lane sat on the armchair Clark often occupied. Clark sat on the floor by Lois' feet.

She nudged his back with her toes. He glanced up at her and followed the cock of her head toward the television. She never had the volume loud because she enjoyed watching with the subtitles on. It helped keep the brain stimulated… although Clark liked to think she kept them on because he kept winning the spelling argument war.

Clark’s heart skipped. He fidgeted where he sat. Crap. Double crap. Triple—

She nudged him again.

The volume increased. From the corner of his eye, General Lane pointed the remote straight at the screen. John Corben stood with a globe microphone in hand, looking directly at them. "The Justice Gang—"

Clark swallowed. "Uh…"

He tilted his head backward to look at her. What should he do? Could he go? Should he go? He could stay. He would totally stay. The Justice Gang had this one…

"And it looks like the Green Lantern’s taken a nasty blow to the head," Corben said.

"Too bad it can’t help with that haircut," Lois muttered.

"Hey!" Lucy laughed. Clark didn’t hear what she said next in defence of Guy Gardner’s poorly cut bangs.

Lois was watching him. She cocked her head toward the window. She wanted him to go? Of course, she wanted him to go.

He opened his mouth. What excuse could he give? He needed to milk his cows? That lie had surprising mileage, but it only ever worked in Smallville. (And was it a lie, if he really did milk the cows hours after he used it?) No. That wouldn’t do. He had a work emergency? But then would that make Lois look like she wasn’t as busy? He couldn’t do that, either. Could he use Ma and Pa? How much did the General and Lucy know?

Clark had left his lips parted long enough for an excuse to pour out. Nothing came. He was empty.

"Clark needs to get back to the office," Lois said. She was looking down at him, her eyes wide now. Go.

General Lane frowned as he shifted in his seat. He looked away from the television screen to stare at him. "This late?"

She smacked her lips. "The news never waits, sir. It’s one of his stories—"

Lucy hummed. "That’s right," she said, staring at Clark for a moment with narrowed eyes. Why couldn’t he have telepathic powers he could switch on and off? She looked at Lois and smiled. "News waits for no one, right, Lo?" There was an edge to her voice that Clark wanted to pick at.

Lois rose from the couch. He followed, clumsy on his feet as he stood at his full height. She wrapped her fingers tight around his wrist and tugged him away and toward the small hallway. "Goodbye, Clark!" she said over her shoulder. Lucy said her goodbyes, but the General remained quiet. A glance over his shoulder saw his gaze follow.

Until he couldn’t see anything anymore. She escorted him to the front door.

Clark turned to face Lois. "I’m sorry," he whispered. Her grip on his wrist loosened, and her thumb swept over his pounding pulse.

She shrugged, and the corner of her mouth was downturned. "Supering doesn’t wait for anyone," she whispered. She rolled on the balls of her feet before she glanced over her shoulder. Looking back at him, she smiled and rose on her tiptoes to peck the corner of his mouth. "Give us a good show, Superman."

He gave her a small smile. Stones had settled in his gut. Clark didn’t want to go, but… Metropolis needed him, didn’t it? "I’ll do my best, ma’am."

Clark bowed to kiss her, but Lois shoved him out the door. Gosh, she was really strong for someone her size.

A boulder had been smashed inside his gut. The butterflies remained, but Clark was lighter. He could fly, if he wanted to, but he didn’t, so he stayed flat on the ground. But telling Jimmy about General Lane and Lucy was like a weight lifted that he hadn’t been aware he was carrying around. (Sometimes he wasn’t. Clark was known for carrying things without realising he was carrying them.)

While Clark didn’t like lying to Jimmy about his relationship with Lois, he thought of it more as omitting the truth while not telling an outright lie. If he told Jimmy that he met the General while working on a story with Lois last night, he’d totally buy it. And it wasn’t a lie, was it? Because he and Lois both covered the story about the Justice Gang and Superman fighting an extraterrestrial monster that invaded the city, thanks to something that happened at S.T.A.R. Labs in Central City. It was easy to tell Jimmy that the General had expressed a desire to have Clark Kent interview him because Lois denied him. That wasn’t a lie. And if he told Jimmy that he met Lucy earlier in the morning when Lois was the first in and Clark the second… well, that wasn’t a lie, either, because Lucy had dropped Lois off before she’d skipped to the elevator and left. It was the truth, because that was the first time he was seeing Lucy today.

The sequence of events wasn’t in order, but that was okay. Ma would say a white lie that didn’t hurt anyone wasn’t a cruel lie. It was a favour. Pa might not agree, but Pa liked to be contrary.

Clark stared down at his paper coffee cup. MARK was scrawled in pen across the side. Mark. He was Mark Kent today. What was Mark like? He was probably a happy guy with a good life and a very beautiful, successful girlfriend whose family terrified him.

Jimmy was JIMMY. No one ever got Jimmy’s name wrong.

Clark held the door to Jitters open for a couple of young girls to enter and for Jimmy to step through to exit. His friend didn’t even notice how the girls looked back and giggled at him. Clark was in trouble, wasn’t he? The only time Jimmy ever ignored girls was when he was busy, well… not ignoring him.

"Are you nervous?" Jimmy asked. He peeled back the lid of his coffee cup and blew on the steam. Jimmy hated coffee lids. The reason was unbeknownst to them all, but Clark bet that there was lid trauma in Jimmy’s life. Of all the bets he’d win, it was that one.

Clark pursed his lips and shook his head. "No."

Jimmy frowned. "You’re not shitting your pants?"

"No." He pressed his finger against the middle of his glasses and squinted at the bright sun. Why was Jimmy looking at him like he’d grown a third head? "Why? Should I be?"

"Yeah," Jimmy said, laughing. He drank his coffee and winced. Too hot, as always. "I’d be. General Lane’s not a kitten, you know."

"I didn’t expect him to be." How long had it been since he grabbed the cup? Two minutes. Clark shifted it to his other hand in an attempt to appear like he could feel the uncomfortable heat. He glanced at Jimmy, who was too preoccupied with looking over his shoulder at a girl to question him as he had three days ago. The thin scent of her flowery perfume almost made him sneeze.

"Considering how close you and Lois are…" Jimmy glanced at him before clearing his throat. He looked down at the pavement and avoided stepping on a crack. "I just figured you’d be, you know… worried."

Clark frowned. "We’re not talking about Lois and me."

Jimmy hummed. "So…" He kept his gaze downcast. "There’s a 'Lois and Clark'. Colour me intrigued."

The morning heat was pressing down on them. Clark’s nape heated, and his skin started to sweat. "We’re just friends."

"Sure." Jimmy sucked on his teeth. He winked at him. "Kind of like how Eve and I are friends."

Eve, not Mutant Toes. Clark narrowed his eyes. "Aren’t you avoiding Eve?"

That prompted Jimmy to look away. He lifted his coffee to his lips, took a sip, and winced again. Still too hot. "Okay, so, maybe it’s not the best example because Lois isn’t that annoying and she doesn’t text all the time and then ghost you for several days because, well… It’s not important." He shook his head and sighed. Looking at Clark, he shrugged his shoulder. "But you know what I mean."

"I don’t."

"Really, dude?"

Clark pursed his lips and shrugged. "I don’t." His heart thumped hard in his ears. Another white lie. Of course, he knew exactly what Jimmy meant. It wasn’t a secret that everyone knew he had a thing for Lois. No one knew how deep it ran, although he’d glimpsed that betting board. Cat Grant was the closest. He cleared his throat again. "Sorry, Jimbo."

Jimbo. That’s what Lois called him. Clark hid his wince behind his coffee cup as he took a sip and looked over toward a newspaper stand. He nodded, smiling at Earl behind his makeshift counter. Another headline that declared Superman a hero. Clark walked a little straighter, shoulders pulled back.

"I mean," Jimmy said, "even if there was…" Clark looked at him to see him shrug. His friend peered up at him with his lips pressed together. "I wouldn’t have a problem with it. Not that you crazy kids need my approval. It’s just… I mean… I think it’d be cool, is all."

Cool. Him and Lois?

Clark was staring at him. He looked away and shifted his cup to his other hand. "There’s nothing between Lois and me."

From the corner of his eye, Jimmy was looking at him with a cocky grin. Clark drew his coffee to his lips and made sure to wince, even though it didn’t burn his tongue and was a fine temperature. Then again, he enjoyed hot things, even preferring boiling water to lukewarm.

Jimmy shook his head and chuckled as they approached The Daily Planet. "I can’t believe you’re going to interview the General Lane." He opened the door and gestured for Clark to step inside. "Good luck, dude. I’ll get your obituary written."

One of Lois' rules about conducting any kind of interview was to make sure that the subject was comfortable. A comfortable subject was more likely to drop their guard when he needed it most. She often preferred cafés, considering them neutral ground. Clark hadn’t expected General Lane to interview at Jitters.

It turned out that General Sam Lane was capable of more than one surprise.

The General turned his nose up at it as they sat inside the café in the late morning. A few of the tables were occupied inside and outside. Clark sat in his chair and resisted the urge to fidget again. The General had already cocked a brow at him when he squirmed last time. Had he noticed? Or did he just like to arch his brow as he took in a place?

Gosh, he wished Lucy had stuck around.

Clark cleared his throat. "Sir."

The General looked at him. He sat straight in his chair with his hands clasped on the clean table. There was a bit of Lois in him. Her fearlessness was hers to own, but Clark saw the determined set of her shoulders in her father. The General met his gaze. Clark fought the urge to squirm again. "Mr Kent."

He gave in and readjusted in his chair. "I thought we could just dive in, if that’s okay."

"That’s what I prefer."

Clark smacked his lips. "Great. Uh." He pressed his fingertips against the papers in front of him. His notes were nonsensical to him now. He needed to breathe. Resisting the urge to shift in his chair, he cleared his throat. "So, what brings you to Metropolis?"

The General’s cocked brow remained. "Personal matters."

Right. "Some believe you’ve come to speak to Superman." Why did his voice shake? Clark cleared his throat before looking away from his notes. The General was watching him with an unreadable expression. "Is that true?"

The General inhaled deeply through his nose. "I came for personal matters," he said. "But I intend to speak to him, yes."

"About?"

"The events at Jarhanpur."

Clark’s pulse thumped in his neck. Could the General see it? Was that what he was staring at intently? Clark looked down at his notes, picking at the corner of one of the papers. Instead of rifling through them, he flattened his hands against them. Lois would tell him to be confident. Follow his gut. His gut was made of the toughest fucking steel. (Her words.) But it felt like the kind of jelly she was known for making, which was liquid and inedible. He could do this. Lois wouldn’t let him do this if she didn’t think he’d walk away from this mostly in one piece.

"A crime against humanity was prevented, General," Clark said, not dropping the General’s gaze. "By the Justice Gang."

"At the heeding of Superman, I believe."

He frowned, tilting his head to the side. "And that’s a bad thing?"

The General shook his head. "No. It’s a good thing. A significant loss of life was prevented that day thanks to the efforts of The Justice Gang." Guy was going to love that soundbite. "But the Gang is funded by a billionaire."

"And you’re worried about their intentions becoming impure?"

"In a way," the General said. He shifted in his seat, but his back remained straight and his shoulders stiff. "They should remain neutral. Don’t you agree?"

Clark sat back in his chair. "I do." He meant it. "That’s why Superman doesn’t accept any kind of funding or partnership deals." The General cocked his brow. Clark cleared his throat. "So he says."

"You speak to him often."

He nodded. "Sometimes."

The General leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on the clean table. The coffee mug Lucy had ordered for him remained untouched. "Interesting how he only trusts you."

"He spoke to Miss Lane once," he said. Should that be off the record? Gosh, was Lois going to kill him for that? No. There was evidence. Lois Lane had scored the front cover of The Daily Planet and the Central City Citizen thanks to her interview with Superman after the events of the black hole.

The corner of the General’s mouth curved upward. His face softened. "He should be talking to her more. But I can see why he wouldn’t."

Clark settled back into his chair, resting his hands against his lap. "Why’s that?"

That upward curve grew. "Lois Lane isn’t like any other reporter," the General said. "She’s a bloodhound. One of the best. The best. Superman’s lucky she’s not grilling him over the decisions he clearly makes out of self-interest."

"What decisions do you believe those to be?"

"Jarhanpur." He raised his hand as Clark opened his mouth. "Superman did a good deed, Mr Kent. At the end. But he was lucky that Luthor had his hands all over it. Who’s to say the next time he decides to interfere with foreign affairs, it wouldn’t go differently? Countries fight. I’ve been in enough wars to know."

Clark’s throat was tight. He hummed to soften it. "You said to John Corben that you wanted selflessness from superheroes. How could they show that to you?"

The General pursed his lips as he looked off to the side. Clark wanted to follow his gaze, but he studied him instead. The chewing of the inside of his mouth was something Lois had done many times before. "If I answered that, they wouldn’t be selfless, would they?" He looked at Clark and slouched slightly in his chair. The upward curve of his mouth returned. "They shouldn’t be selfless to impress me or to prove me wrong. Selflessness comes from, well… a true act of selflessness. Don’t you agree?"

"I do," Clark said. "But if you were to speak to Superman… What would you want to say?"

The General continued to smile, although the softness was gone. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. "You’ll have to forgive my decline to answer, but that’s between me and the man in blue, Mr Kent."

Clark nodded. "I can respect that, sir."

"But if I could say something to him…" The General looked down at Clark’s notes. "I’d say thank you."

Clark smiled. He swallowed, his heart thumping somewhere in his throat. The General leaned back and reached for his coffee mug to sip. To hide?

"Off the record," the General said after placing his mug on the table, "he needs to speak to Lo more. The interviews you do with him are rubbish. She’d never allow him to get his poorly constructed soundbites in."

Clark laughed. His heart thumped quickly in his chest, but he was lighter now that the General was relaxing in his chair. "I’ll tell him that the next time I see him, sir."

Lois wrapped her arms around his middle the moment he stepped inside her apartment. His arm was extended toward the rack with his jacket in hand. He dropped it as he tucked his arms around her.

"So you came back in one piece," Lois said, resting her cheek against his chest. She squeezed him tight.

Clark’s face was hot as he peered down at her. "You didn’t think I would?"

"No," she said, laughing softly. "You looked like you were about to combust the other night. One plus one."

They walked slowly down the short hallway to her living room. He didn’t want to let her go, and it seemed she wanted the same. Her apartment was quiet save for the humming of her fridge, the softly playing television, and her hard, wonderful heartbeat.

Standing in the middle of her living room, he untucked one arm from around her to scratch at the back of his neck. "Your dad’s not that bad…" Tilting her head up to peer at him, she cocked her brow. He laughed. "Okay, he’s terrifying."

She smiled. "Thank you for putting up with him," she said. "I know he’s not easy." But nothing worth it ever was.

When Lucy and the General returned an hour later, Clark was cooking dinner. Lois sat cross-legged on the couch with her notebook splayed on her knees and a pen in her mouth. He looked over his shoulder as the General walked by the kitchen door.

"Smells good," the General said without looking in his direction. Clark was making his mother’s beans and rice. Lois loved it. He hoped her family would, too.

Clark stepped away from the stove and stood in the doorframe. Lucy wasn’t in the living room, disappearing somewhere down the other hall toward Lois' room. With his arms locked behind his back, the General stood in front of Lois' wall displaying her framed front covers of The Daily Planet. More of her articles should be covered, but Lois only ever framed what she felt were the best. Everything she did was the best.

"Impressive, right?" Clark said.

The General didn’t startle. He tipped his head back as he looked at one of the covers positioned near the ceiling skirt. That was the article that intimidated Clark all those years ago. Lois' tenacity had been both inspiring and scary. That was the article that named him Superman.

Loud footsteps from the corridor drew Clark’s attention away from the General admiring Lois' work. Lucy dropped onto the armchair and rested her chin on its cushion as she looked at him. "Dad keeps clippings of all Lois' articles. He’s one clipping away from joining a scrapbooking class."

The General grunted. "Lucy," he said as he turned around. His look would’ve scared Clark earlier, but he could see the fondness in the narrowing of his eyes. His hands remained locked behind him.

Lois' cheeks were red. "They’re just articles," she said, glancing up at Clark before looking down. He smiled. What a load of rubbish. They weren’t just articles. They were what he looked at when he needed a reminder of why he did what he did as Clark Kent and Superman.

"Great articles," Clark said. She eyed him, and he shrugged. "I don’t know where The Planet would be without her."

The General looked at the wall again and nodded. "One Pulitzer winner less, I’d say."

Lois removed the pen from her mouth and threw it at Clark. He caught it.

"I can get you an interview with Superman," Clark said. Lois stared at him with wide eyes. He dragged his gaze away from her to watch the General, who stood tall and still. He wasn’t reading the articles anymore; he was listening. "If you’d like to talk to him."

From his periphery, Lucy stared at her father. Lois kept staring at Clark. It felt like eons before the General turned to him, his hands locked behind his back, his spine straight. He didn’t answer for a moment. Then he nodded. "I’d like that."

Lucy’s mouth fell open as she said, "Wow."

Lois pushed her notebook into the corner of the couch and leapt away. "Excuse me!" she said tightly. She slid her arm through Clark’s and tugged him into the kitchen. The General eyed them before looking back at the articles, and Lucy readjusted on the chair to snatch the notebook Lois had discarded. Clark wanted to keep his gaze on them, but Lois dragged him toward the fridge, away from where either of them could see or hear them.

Lois stomped her foot on his. He winced because he knew he had to. "What are you doing?" she hissed. He opened his mouth. "Are you seriously out of your mind? Are you insane? You do know he wants you to be there, right? How exactly are you going to interview yourself with him right there?"

Clark smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" she whispered, crossing her arms against her chest. "This isn’t funny."

He chuckled as he clasped his hands in front of him. Clark stood tall as he gazed down at Lois. Smoke was curling from her ears. "You’re going to do the interview."

She blinked. "Be serious."

He shrugged. "Superman likes you. Your dad likes you."

"He expects you to do it."

"I’ll be on assignment." He pursed his lips as he narrowed his eyes. With a tilt of his head, he said, "I hear that there’s a cow festival out in Smallville…"

Lois stared at him. "You’re unbelievable. You’re serious."

He smiled.

"Why are you doing this?"

Clark lowered his head toward hers. He curled his hands gently around her biceps as he brushed his thumbs against the sleeve of her shirt. "I want your dad to like me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Which you?"

"Both."

"And you think I’m going to make you likeable? You seriously trust me with this?"

He nodded. "Of course, I do. I trust you with everything."

While the General had reluctantly agreed to the idea of an interview over coffee the next day, Clark had suggested that they meet in a more neutral, comfortable location: Lois Lane’s apartment in the evening.

"He’s been here before?" General Lane had asked, cocking his brow at Lois.

She had shrugged. "What can I say? I’m a Pulitzer." He didn’t seem to buy it, but he left it alone.

It would’ve been easy to get dressed as Superman in Lois' apartment while she took Lucy and her father out on the town, but Clark wanted the story to be believable. He’d left them earlier that morning, making a great show about how he’d be in Smallville for a couple of days at the cow festival. The General hadn’t so much as blinked an eye. (Just what had he heard about him to not question that?) He’d dressed as Superman at his apartment and flown over the city, knowing he’d get caught on social media. He needed to separate Clark Kent and Superman as much as possible for the sake of calming Clark’s mind about the whole ordeal. It also didn’t hurt that he was able to help rescue a stubborn cat from a tree in the meantime.

He waited in Lois' living room with the evening sun glowing orange behind him. He kept his hands clasped in front of him as the General stood before him with his arms locked behind his back. Lois stood awkwardly in her living room with her tape recorder in hand and a pen threaded through her fingers.

"Great," she said. "Um. Superman, this is General Lane—"

"We don’t need any introductions, Miss Lane," Superman said kindly. He smiled at her. Lois narrowed her eyes slightly, but she nodded.

Licking her lips, she said, "Okay. So—"

The General gestured with his hand toward the couch. "Sit," he said gruffly. "Please." It didn’t sound like a suggestion. When Superman hesitated, the General cocked his brow and said, "Unless you have somewhere better to be?"

Superman tilted his head toward the open window. Metropolis was an orchestra of sounds. Car alarms blared from various directions. Dogs barked from the several parks and cats meowed a few levels down. Someone asked their parrot what they should get for dinner, and another person tried to bust into their apartment after losing their key for the fifth time that week. All was reasonably well.

But he paused because he felt it was necessary. The General needed to take him seriously as a superhero. A superhero wouldn’t hesitate if he were funded by a billionaire. Lois had pointed that out to him a few weeks ago.

Superman sat in the middle of the couch and rested his hands on his lap. The General sat on the armchair, while Lois perched on the couch’s arm. Superman glanced at her with a small smile, and she shook her head as she looked down at her notes.

She clicked on her recorder. "This is all on the record," she said, looking between them both with her gaze lingering on Superman. "Everything." She sighed. "General Lane, is there anything you’d like to ask Superman?"

The General nodded. "Superman," he said as he clasped his hands between the space of his knees and leaned forward. Superman mimicked him, although he wore a smile. "You’re known as Metropolis’s guardian angel. Is that right?"

"I suppose so," he said with a smile. "But I’m just trying to give back, sir."

The General hummed. "Let’s cut right to the chase, if you will. When will that come with its own price?"

Superman knew what he meant, but he furrowed his brows and tilted his head slightly. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Most of the superheroes who’ve graced Metropolis debuted without any funding, but eventually they’ve needed the cash flow. Batman in Gotham’s rumoured to have the Wayne money backing him. The Flash in Central City seems to be an advocate for S.T.A.R. Labs’ tech. And you…" The General sighed as he eyed him. "I’m not sure about you yet."

"I assure you that I can’t be bought," Superman said.

"But everyone can be bought," Lois said. Superman looked at her and bit at the corners of his cheeks to stop himself from smiling. She was eyeing him like he was a feast for a predator to devour. She wasn’t worried about who was in the room with her anymore. "We have proof of that with every other A-List superhero."

"I’m flattered you consider me A-List, Miss Lane, but I can assure you that no amount of money will ever sway me."

The General grunted. "That’s what Wonder Woman said, and yet, I believe she works very closely with the museums in Washington and London. Perhaps it’s not funding, but it’s certainly not working solely out of the interests of her heart." The General narrowed his eyes as he scrutinised him. "What makes you different from an Amazonian?"

Superman nodded. That was fair. It’d be easy to dismantle Prince’s whole schtick, but her choices were hers to explain. Hopefully she’d forgive him for not correcting the assumption about her motivations. He cleared his throat. "I have no interest in taking funding from anyone, General Lane. I work for the people, whether that be individuals or museums. I think it all comes back to caring for the city."

The General made a noise of agreement low in his throat as he sat back in the armchair. "And how long will that last, I wonder? If a billionaire were to put funding behind Kryptonian research, it would be fair to expect a man such as yourself to take great interest in seeing its success. With the technology being made today on this planet and others, your planet isn’t beyond saving."

Lois tapped her pen against her notepad. "Dad…"

"What, Lo?" he said, looking at her. "It’s a fair question. The people deserve to know if Superman can be bought."

"He can’t be," Superman said, looking at General Lane. He leaned forward with his hands clasped and didn’t look away from him. "I promise you."

"Just as you promised, your parents’ directive wasn’t true for you, too?"

"Dad."

Superman held up his hand, smiling. "It’s okay, Miss Lane." Lois' jaw remained clenched. Another alarm blared, and someone was playing Dua Lipa on blast a few apartment buildings away. He inhaled deeply and focused. "It wasn’t, and it will never be."

The General stared at him. "Even if it means you miss the chance to see the impossible become possible again or you?"

Superman swallowed and glanced away from him. "Yes," he said. Would he give up the chance to see Krypton rebuilt? If the restoration of his home meant that Kara stayed in one place… It was a wish he’d made on every single star and set of birthday candles since he learned about his true heritage. Some wishes deserved to come true, while others were meant to stay as wishes.

"I find that hard to believe."

Superman shrugged. "Sometimes I do, too," he said. He pressed his lips together and inhaled deeply to settle his racing heart. "But there’s nothing to say that throwing money at a dream means it comes true. The people of Earth have been kind to me, General. I only want to repay that back."

"Does that have a limit?" General Lane asked. He rested his hands on his knees. "Every person has a price. Every alien…"

Superman nodded. "I understand what you’re saying. Even though I’m not from this world, I can assure you… I want to be a part of it. I…" He shifted where he sat, resting his hands on his thighs. He glanced away. What could he say? What should he say? The truth. That’s all Superman had wanted to do. Tell the truth. Rubbing his hands on his thighs, Superman looked down at the coffee table. "I want to be viewed like I’m one of you. I want to be one of you. And if that means that I need to keep doing what I’m doing until that happens… So be it."

"So there’s an expiry date?"

He shook his head as he looked up at General Lane. "Not at all, sir."

"So when you feel this acceptance…" General Lane gestured with his hand before swallowing. "What’s the plan, then?"

"Keep looking out for Metropolis," Superman said. He glanced at Lois, who nodded. Her tape recorder was held out between them, and her notepad was bare. It was good stuff, right? Lois barely wrote notes when what she was getting didn’t require further investigation. He looked back at the General and said, "For as long as they’ll have me."

"And the rest of the world?"

He sighed softly. "I’m here to protect the people of Earth," he said, glancing down. His heart thumped hard in his chest. Neither Lane could see it through his suit, right? He kept his gaze downcast for a few moments before looking up at the General. He needed to look him in the eye. "Not just Metropolis."

"So you make no promises not to interfere in another global conflict that has nothing to do with you."

Superman frowned. "Doesn’t it have everything to do with us? We’re all on the same planet. We’re all one people. If one country is determined to annihilate another, shouldn’t we step in?"

The General glanced away, but his gaze returned to him. "There are some fights we can’t be a part of, Superman."

"Maybe for you," he said. His pulse thumped in his throat now. If Lois had heat vision, she’d have torn through his profile with the intensity of her stare. "But I can, and I will. I will never regret what happened with Jarhanpur, sir. Those people deserved a voice, and if that meant that I needed to step in so they could be heard and seen… I’ll do it for everyone."

"Even the oppressor?" General Lane asked. "What if Boravia needs you next?"

Superman swallowed. "Then they’ll have me. I don’t discriminate, General. It’s not up to me to decide who’s good and who’s bad."

"Then what is up to you?"

He licked his lips. "Listening," he said. Clasping his hands on his legs, he leaned forward as he watched the General observe him. "There are misguided people in positions of power everywhere in the world, General. I know you know that. And sometimes those misguided people need help. Sometimes that help means that they need to be stopped, whatever means necessary."

The General grunted. "And those means…?"

"I think you’ve studied me well enough to know what my boundaries are, sir," Superman said. "It’s not up to me to decide who lives and dies, but it is up to me to do my best and help when I can."

"Without funding."

Superman nodded. "I want people to be assured that I don’t need funding. I’m fine on my own."

"But you associate with The Justice Gang…"

He smiled. "Every hero needs a friend, sir. And some heroes need a little extra help to do what they do. I wouldn’t say that The Justice Gang is biased towards anything that may work in favour of LordTech. They need the money to help fund their equipment so they can stand up and fight for their people." Superman shook his head, still smiling. "If I could make a suggestion, sir… See the people, not the money. You’ll know what their hearts lie when you do that."

The General nodded. He glanced at Lois. "I think I’m done."

Lois smiled. "I have no further questions for now, Superman," she said, looking at him.

"Thank you for your time today, Superman," General Lane said. When he rose, Superman followed. Lois stayed perched on the arm of the couch. When the General held out his hand, Superman shook it. "Although I’d like to ask a few questions about how well you know my daughter."

"Okay!" Lois leapt off the couch and clicked off her recorder. "That’s off the record and so not your business."

Superman’s face was hot as Lois tore him away from General Lane and shoved him toward the open window.

Clark had brought breakfast on the General and Lucy’s last day in Metropolis. The cow festival had ended earlier than anticipated, with Bessie winning the Best Dressed Cow Award and one of Pa’s oldest friends’ cows going into labour. Nothing could ever replace heading home for a few days, even though Clark had missed being in the city.

He was at the sink, slowly washing the plates. When Lois cleared her throat loudly from the hallway leading to the front door, he turned off the tap and grabbed the dry dishtowel, wiping his hands as he approached the threshold dividing the kitchen and the corridor.

The General was dressed in his army uniform. Was that all he packed? A bag full of deep greens and olives? Lucy stood outside in the apartment’s corridor with her bags in the middle of the deserted walkway.

Lois glanced at Clark before looking at her dad. "So," she said, "what did you think of him?" She’d banned any conversation about Superman until she chose to broach it… So she chose now? Gosh, her timing was always questionable.

The General shrugged and readjusted his large black travel bag on his shoulder. "He was alright."

Clark pressed his lips together to stop himself from outright smiling. Lois' gaze cut briefly to him before she settled on her father again. Clark said, "I heard he likes you."

The General cocked his brow. "Talk to him that much, Mr Kent?"

He wrung his hands in the dishtowel, mindful of his strength. "We… text. Sometimes."

The General’s gaze lingered. Perhaps it was a good thing Clark was standing behind Lois. She might’ve been tiny, but she was a strong shield. He hummed. "Next time I’m in town," he said to Lois, "we’ll get more than just coffee."

Lois nodded. "I’d like that."

"And you, Mr Kent," he said. Clark stood straight and stilled his hands with the towel. He’d wrapped it so tight he should’ve lost circulation. "You’ll understand when the next time I’m in town, I’d prefer to be interviewed by Lo."

"Completely understand, sir," Clark said with a smile. "She’s the best."

The General’s lips remained pressed together as the corners of his mouth curved upward. Clark considered that a win. "She certainly is. Well, we'd better get going. I need to get back to business and try to stop Luthor before he’s released from Belle Reve."

Lois sighed. "You know he’s just going to get his own way. He’s a rich, spoiled brat with too much money in the bank."

The General smiled. "That’s what makes it fun, Lo." He held out his hand for her to take. "The next time you see Superman, tell him I’m watching him." His eyes darted to Clark. The dish towel was wrapped so tightly around his hands. It stopped him from reaching out and touching Lois for, well, any kind of help.

"Yes, sir," Lois said. "I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say about your visit."

The General grunted. With a nod, he turned and cocked his head toward Lucy to follow. He led the way to the elevator without looking back.

Lucy lingered. "Goodbye, sis." She closed the distance between them and wrapped her in a hug. Lois' arms remained by her sides for a second before she reluctantly hugged her back. "You take good care of her, Clark. No more two-minute noodles for Lo."

"I’ll do my best, ma’am," he said.

Lucy chuckled as she pulled away from Lois. "He’s so cute," she whispered.

Lois shoved her away. "Go! You’re cramping my style."

Grabbing her large bags, Lucy laughed as she walked down the hallway. "You’d have to have style to begin with!"

Clark reached out to brush his fingertips against Lois' hip. She stayed in the doorway, watching her father and sister step into the elevator and disappear behind its closed doors. Sighing heavily, she leaned back into him. "I’ve got style," she muttered.

"You’ve definitely got style," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"What a week." She tilted her head to peer up at him. "Thank you for everything."

Clark smiled as he peered down at her. "I’d do anything for you, Lois."

"Is that right?" she said, turning to face him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her chest to his and stood on the tips of her toes. His arms were trapped between them. "Those are some dangerous words, Mr Kent."

"I’ve been known to live on the wild side, Miss Lane," he said. "I might even leave the dishes in the sink to be washed tomorrow."

She gasped before she laughed, and the ease in which she turned to jelly against him was warmer than the sun. "Don’t tease a girl with a good time, Kent," she said. Her arms tightened around his neck like she was finally returning to her unabashed self. Good. He wanted Lois Lane to be formidable, sharp and bitter. He didn’t want her sitting on the floor of her living room surrounded by books, unsure of how to shelve them.

When she stepped on his feet, he took several steps back into her apartment without looking away from her. A stray shoe brushed his heel. He almost toppled over, but he recovered gracefully, even if she wouldn’t agree when she retold the story. "Is that what you’re having? A good time?"

Lois rolled her eyes and shot up to punch his mouth with hers. "Shut up." She kicked the door closed behind them, although it was his exhalation over the top of her head that ensured it clicked shut.