Chapter Text
September 2004– Lois‘s Freshmen Year
Clark Kent gets chauffeured to Metropolis University a few short weeks after he dropped Lois off there. The chauffeur in question is none other than resident star football player Geoff Johns. Lois can tell that Smallville is starstruck; it's equally as sweet as this whole circus is embarrassing.
Sorority girls line up to read every desire from his lips—unaware that despite his good looks, Clark Kent has no clue what to do with pretty girls throwing themselves at him.
He's the perfect picture of the blushing virgin.
It’s adorable.
"Fuck," the word punches out of Lois as she slams into Stacey, her suitemate and de-facto best friend at college.
"Sorry, sorry," Stacey rambles, "but God, Lois, why didn't you say that your football friend looks like that?"
Stacey sighs dramatically, swinging her head in Lois' direction. Her glaring is somewhat undermined by the pink, heart-shaped sunglasses taking up most of her face.
Jesus, the irony.
Ashley—another Whitesnake fan and thereby one of the reasons for Lois' good graces—whistles appreciatively at Lois' other side. Pity; Lois thought that she would have better taste than that.
"You both need to get your eyesight checked. Anyone ever tell you that?"
Ashley snorts. "Don't get prissy. We won't hit on your friend— even if he looks like a Greek Statue."
Lois gives Ashley a flat look that makes Stacey laugh. "Okay, okay, Clark Kent,"—and Stacey is clearly reading the name from a banner that some sorority girls hung up—Jesus, they really went overboard—"is off limits. Duly noted." And that absolute fiend has the nerve to reach over and rest her elbow comradely on Lois' shoulder.
Pfft.
"You guys are hilarious," Lois says, shoving her off. But despite her protests, Lois has trouble ripping her eyes away from Clark and the way he squirms uncomfortably as random girls rub their hands a bit too comfortably over his chest and shoulders.
"Look at that poor boy. I better go rescue him."
"Uh-uh," Ashley comments, looking far too smug as she watches Lois run to Clark's aid. It seems a bit damning; Lois is aware of that, thank you.
But if they roll out the red carpet for some lousy farm boy—just because he finally got his panties untwisted and decided to throw some ball around—then Lois wants some of that special treatment as well. It was she, after all, who metaphorically untwisted those panties.
Also, Martha Kent would never forgive her if some big, bad college girls defiled her precious boy.
...
"Jesus, Smallville," Lois whispers as she finally manages to push past the heaps of people swarming him. She incurs her fair share of angry glares as she does so— Lois is an elbow person, what can she say—but it is nothing compared to the death stares she is receiving now.
How dare someone unworthy like Lois even breathe the same air as the promised boy king of Met U campus?
Yeah, alright.
“They are really pulling out all the stops for you, aren’t they?“ Lois‘s eyes track a busty blonde as she makes her way to them with a plate of freshly cut fruit.
“There you go, cutie.“ The blonde says, smiling wide at Clark as she caresses his arm.
The longer Lois watches this spiel of gorgeous, gorgeous girls stalking Smallville like prey, the more painful it becomes. Clark‘s porcelain skin is flushed, his eyes flitter nervously through the room as girls desperately try to catch his gaze, and all of his answers are of a terribly awkward quality.
“Thank you, Cassie.“ Clark says.
“How are you enjoying the party?“, and Cassie twirls one golden lock around her finger, showcasing a perfectly manicured hand and more importantly a perfect view of her cleavage.
Lois has to complement Cassie‘s game. It’s a bit on the nose, a bit cliche— but God the execution is flawless. Given that Clark‘s response is by about five seconds delayed, it seems to work.
Ten out of ten, really.
“No— yeah, I mean… everyone is great.“ Lois winces.
Okay, time to put him out of his misery.
“It was really nice to meet you, Cassie, but I need to steal Smallville for a second.“ Lois smiles charmingly at Cassie— she knows this because all of Lois Lane‘s smiles are charming— but the look that is levelled at her is of utter and cold disdain.
Okay, then.
Lois snags Clark by the wrist and just starts to march; indifferent to all the people that try to get Clark’s attention. She doesn’t drop her grip until they are far enough away from Greek Street that the Clark Kent Fan Club has significantly thinned out. If one more girl falls at his feet so far away from the party— in these badly lit alleys— all of this turns from silly to obscene.
Better not take any chances.
They end up in a quiet residential street, Lois deems as safe enough because she recognises it from her daily runs.
She slows down, falls in step besides Clark instead of dragging him behind her. That’s when she can no longer keep it in, she starts cackling.
“Jesus, Smallville, if you really end up coming here then you may need professional protection.“
“You managed just fine, so I reckon that I should be alright.“ His stutter from earlier is gone. His voice is breathy and full of good humour as he laughs in tandem with her. Now that it’s just Lois and him, he seems to seep back into himself— high cheekbones still flushed, charcoal hair still ruffled— but he’s less tense, less fidgety as well.
“You‘re so funny, Smallville. Really very clever and so handsome, too.“ By the end, Lois‘s voice goes up, grows nasal and high-pitched as she mimics Cassie. Clark just groans in embarrassment, drags a heavy hand through his hair and messes it up even more.
In her current giddy state Lois finds herself distracted by her desire to push her hand through it as well. Clark isn’t looking at her though. He’s staring up at the sky, the bright blue of the afternoon bleeding pale into the evening.
“Thank you for getting me out of there.“ Clark always sounds so sincere— every thank you is spoken like a life debt.
“Trust me, Smallville. I did it as much for you as for myself. That was painful to witness.“
Clark snorts but his words come out solemn.
“You sure you don’t mind missing the party?“
“I’m still a bit hungover from this party two days ago. I had this drinking contest with some football guy. Hey, maybe you know…“ Lois lets her voice trail off, Clark’s still craning his neck back like the high heavens are calling out to him or something crazy like that. She stops dead in her tracks—squinting up, she tries to make out what’s caught his attention.
Clark has wandered off, too caught up in his strange mood to notice that he has lost Lois.
“Clark!“ He startles, stops, turns around with big owl-like eyes.
“Pay attention!“ Lois punches him in the arm as she comes to a stop right in front of him. His mouth, just for a second, is o-shaped— and the resemblance to his mother is uncanny— it delights Lois to no end.
Not blood related, huh?
He rearranges his face instantly but it’s too late, Lois saw. Smile flashing across her face, she is ready to rip him a new one, when she catches his eyes. It’s like the breath gets knocked out of her. Her mouth just stops working mid-word.
She’s speechless.
At seventeen, Clark Kent is mesmerising. His hair curling at the edges, darkens with every day. His shoulders are wide and his waist slim. When he turns his profile is that of straight lines and sharp edges, but his eyes— they are bright and green and so young.
It’s nearly unsettling, a jolt runs through her entire body. She gulps unattractively, nearly chokes on her own spit.
“What got you all broody?“ It comes out sounding strangled.
Clark‘s gaze is intense as he seems to catalogue her face. He resets his shoulders.
“It’s going to start raining.“
Clark Kent, ladies and gentlemen, always so goddamn stereotypical until he says the most unpredictable shit.
He loves to keep everyone on their toes, doesn’t he?
“Okay, my dorm is close by. We can hide out there for a bit.“ Lois feels like she’s floating. Her tongue feels weirdly heavy as if it is just lolling around in her mouth.
“Lead the way.“, he says. Yet, it’s him that starts walking in the direction of Kresge Hall while Lois tries to get her wits about her.
Shaking her head, she starts the pursuit.
It’s so typical, Clark has been at her dorm exactly once— nonetheless he navigates all the small streets and alleyways with ease. It makes Lois, who still gets lost repeatedly on her way to classes— feel like a complete fool.
It’s unfair.
Life just seems so easy for Clark.
With his looks.
With football.
Everything that he touches just turns to gold.
But what irks Lois the most is the just knowing.
It’s the way that he can just recall entire textbooks he only skimmed. Being constitutionally lazy about academics is maybe something that both of them have in common, but as much as it hurts to admit, Lois knows for a fact that Clark has never gotten less than a ninety-five on any test. She could resent him for it— the part of her that remembers trying so hard just to keep up does— but the part of her that just stopped trying, can’t be bothered. It’s not like it even matters anyway. They will both end up at Met U— even if Lois got in through the waitlist and with way less fanfare.
Clark takes them to her building via a shortcut that Lois hasn’t even known existed. To make matters worse, they turn the corner onto her street right as it starts pouring.
Why does Clark always have to be right?
She grumbles internally as she fumbles with her key.
“Come on, Lois. Hurry up.“
But at least now she has her answer: Clark Kent isn’t some ordinary prodigy, he is a goddamn psychic.
“Untwist your panties, Smallville,“ she pushes the door open with a flourish, “There you go.“
As he shoulders past her, Lois cannot stop herself: “Say thank you, Lois.“
He huffs exasperatedly. “Thank you, Lois.“
With a spring in her step, Lois catches up to Clark, finally allowing herself to reach over and scruffs his hair. It’s completely drenched from the rain.
“Lois!“ He swats her hand away like a fly.
…
“I know that you stole my stuff. I told my mum that I hadn’t lost them.“
“Boo-hoo, Smallville, grow up.“
Lois is towel drying her hair. Her wet clothes have been switched out with her unicorn PJs and it’s Clark— that’s being a baby right about now.
“It‘s two shirts, one pair of pants, and my favourite sweater!“
“Firstly, you need to learn to share,“ Clark splutters indignantly, “Secondly, aren’t you glad that you have some warm, dry clothes now?“
“That’s so not the point and you know it.“ Clark’s honest-to-God sulking. He looks like a five-year old, staring up at her from where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed against her bed, legs stretched out in front of him— impossibly long.
Lois makes him sit on the floor for no other reason than to see him splutter as she lets him know in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t just invite guys into her bed. She cannot help herself, she just loves that particular shade his face turns when Lois embarrasses him.
“Scooch.“ Clark rolls his eyes but obeys as she settles next to him. It’s cosy— he‘s a big guy and Lois is a tall girl and college dorm rooms, especially singles, aren’t known for their spaciousness. Barricaded in by her nightstand on one side and her stereo set up on the other, they are close enough that Lois can feel his body heat through his clothes.
“Has he texted you back already?“ By he Lois is referring to Geoff Johns, who Clark is supposed to stay with tonight.
“Not yet.“ Clark twirls his phone around in his hands, it makes him look strangely juvenile.
It’s weird. Clark has such a larger than life attitude that it’s nice to see these sides of him. Same with the awkwardness, it makes the golden boy seem human. It makes her eyes start to burn, so Lois quickly averts her gaze, blinks all incriminating evidence away.
Jesus, what’s with her today.
“You okay?“ Head snapping up, she is confronted with Clark‘s concerned face— eyebrows wrinkled and everything.
Fuck.
Lois clears her throat. “Just something in my eye.“
“Let me see.“, and he gently grabs her chin like Lois has seen his mother do. His eyes pierce hers. Lois is transfixed, her mouth falls open— just a crack— and the air whistles past her teeth. Goosebumps spread up and down her arm, there’s energy zapping between them. Lois is instinctively leaning in— when Clark destroys this moment.
“I don’t see anything.“, and he retracts his arm and pulls back— totally unaffected.
Jesus, Lane, get a grip.
But it’s like something broke open and Lois is unable to rip herself away from the sight of him. Heart in her throat, hands curling into fists to hide their slight tremble, she stares at his profile as he surveys her room— her chaos with familiar ease.
“It’s good to know that the mess you made of my room wasn’t personal.“, he comments idly.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Smallville, you’re not that important.“
“You could at least put your dirty laundry in a hamper or something, you know?“ Lois snaps around to follow where he’s looking and to her mortification lands on yesterday‘s pink lace thong. Her face grows unbearably hot, she can feel him looking at her but suddenly she’s grown too embarrassed to face him.
Classy Lois. Real classy.
“I know, you are a sensitive flower, Smallville, but you can relax, it’s just fabric.“ She says with a confidence, she doesn’t feel. She could have left it at that, but Lois isn’t used to feeling wrong-footed— which is a small mercy— because as it turns out she also has a horrible tendency to overcorrect. “I mean here, give it a go.“, and she pulls the string of her underwear from under her pyjama pants. Today she’s wearing an aquamarine cotton blend.
“Lois!“, and the poor boy sounds absolutely scandalised. Yet, Lois cannot help but notice how his gaze gets stuck on her exposed skin. The energy in the room changes like a flicked switch. It’s like electricity is crackling between them, setting her every nerve on fire.
“Don’t be scared, Smallville. It’s just fabric.“ Her voice comes out in a breathy whisper. Clark’s gaze flickers between her face and her panties— his eyes are darker than she’s ever seen them.
No Greek statue can compare. Gently, as though he really were two-thousand year-old marble, Lois reaches out and touches him.
It’s a kiss with far too many teeth. Lois cannot help it, she’s been hungry for too long— smiling as he digs his fingers into her hips— hard enough to leave hand-shaped bruises.
“Don’t!“ She pants against his mouth as he tries to apologise, clawing her nails into the back of his head.
It‘s funny. Lois would have assumed Smallville to be overtly gentle and careful when it comes to sex but he’s anything but. Maybe he would be if Lois allowed such things but she can’t have that.
Gentle and careful is for the well-fed.
And, God Lois is starving.
…
He’s already halfway out the door, freshly dressed in his still damp clothes. The early morning sun is sneaking past her blinds, and gives him a dreamlike quality. It makes her incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden. Standing in the middle of her room, wearing nothing but one of his ratty shirts and aquamarine panties— she feels lost. In a way she’s grateful for the bruises and hickeys he left— not just because she enjoyed how they came to be— because she did— but more than that, because they make it tangible. Otherwise, it could all just reveal itself as a figment of her imagination as soon as the door closes behind him.
“Next time, we should probably use a condom.“ She settles on instead of goodbye— a risky move.
Panic blooms across his face. It’s a calculated risk though— Lois complemented Cassie‘s game yesterday. But oh boy, Lois Lane knows how to play as well.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I‘m on the pill, Smallville, but still it‘s probably a good idea.“ She shrugs deliberately nonchalant.
“Yeah, right, of course.“ There he’s again— plaid-wearing farm boy— Clark Kent.
“Don’t sweat it,“ she crowds into him, pulls his chin down with her fingers, their noses only inches apart, “Of course, I could always untwist your panties for you again.“
She tries to say it particularly suggestively, inflicts every syllable with a seductive quality— mostly to see him squirm. Yet, he doesn’t blush, he doesn’t push her away— instead, he crashes their faces together. Somehow, somewhere he picks her up and fucks her like that pressed against the too thin walls of Kresge Hall.
They don’t use a condom the second time around either.
Or the third. Or the fourth for that matter.
But they start to do so, after Lois‘s first breakup with Hudson Weber right before she drives to Smallville for Thanksgiving.
…