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deird1Longest fic I've ever written! It has chapters, and everything!
Title: Midnight Pizza, and Byline Obligations
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7830
Pairing: Lois Lane/Claire Kent
Summary: It's possible that Lois might have a crush on Superwoman. But she's not certain.
Midnight Pizza, and Byline Obligations
Chapter 1: Photographic fantasies
“Hey, Lois, will your girlfriend be at the gala this weekend? Crashing jets notwithstanding.”
Lois looks up from her computer, confused. “Sorry, what?”
Jimmy is sorting through the chaos on his desk. “I’m on photos at the gala. I’m trying to get a list of possible names and faces so I can plan for all the good shots.”
“My… girlfriend?”
He frowns, and clarifies. “Superwoman. Is she planning to be there?”
“How on earth would I know? She doesn’t tell me her schedule. And, more importantly,” – Lois gets to her feet, unable to believe she actually has to clarify this – “Superwoman is not my girlfriend!”
A moment of silence, and then Jimmy raises an eyebrow and says, “I mean… she kind of is.”
“I think I’d know if I was dating her, Jimmy.”
He grabs his tablet, pulls up his photo files, and starts flipping through shots. “Here you are, gazing into each other’s eyes” (the time she was pushed off of Lincoln Tower) “and sharing a quiet moment together” (after Superwoman stopped the flamethrower bank heist) “and then flying together – look how intimately your arms are draped around her shoulders.”
“That’s just the way she carries people.”
He’s still showing photos. “And more eye gazing… more flying… and… yeah, there’s also that.”
It’s a photo of Lois and Superwoman shortly after Lois fell out of a plane. Her hair was kind of everywhere (and, in fairness, there is almost no way to skydive and maintain a good hairstyle), and Superwoman was brushing a piece of it out of Lois’s face, smiling at her. It was, of course, a perfectly innocent moment of friendship and camaraderie, and meant absolutely nothing more. Jimmy, however, seems to consider it as definitive proof. He grins at her and says, “These are all from the last month.”
“Olsen, I don’t know what kind of gossip you’re hoping for, but this? This is a normal situation of Superwoman rescuing someone. She’s a friendly person.”
Jimmy rolls his eyes and turns to the next desk, where Claire Kent is trying to pretend she hasn’t been eavesdropping. “Claire, help me out, here. You’ve got to see this, right?”
Claire takes the tablet, and flips through the shots, clearly amused. Eventually she hands it to Lois, and says, deadpan, “You’re raising the hopes of every lesbian in Metropolis.”
Lois huffs in disbelief. “You too, Kent?”
“What can I say?” She shrugs. “The chemistry’s off the charts.”
“It’s not–” Lois stops, and says, “Forget it. This is dumb, and I have deadlines. Claire, I’m sending you my notes on the airport story, you can finish it. And Olsen–” she looks at him sternly. “Sorry if reality gets in the way of a good story, but I am perfectly comfortable being single. Even if I am destroying the hopes and dreams of a thousand lesbians.”
Claire grins at Lois over her glasses. “It’s okay. We’re used to disappointment.”
It takes Lois two days to catch that “we”.
Chapter 2: Hokey festivals
The Metropolis Woodpecker Festival is a tradition dating back 130 years. No actual woodpeckers are involved: local woodcrafters (carvers, carpenters, pokerworkers, you name it) display their wares while various wood-related competitions happen in the Festival Square. It’s a charming local event, that captures the heart of what it means to be in Metropolis. So Perry says. Lois would rather describe it as “a cynical cash-grab, preying on nostalgia, so that clueless tourists get charmed into extravagance and only realise when they get home that they’ve paid a hundred dollars for a handcrafted bird feeder, which – when you get right down to it – is basically just a box.”
But Perry’s still in charge, so Lois has to write the article anyway, even if it means a day surrounded by woodcarvings and people selling hotdogs.
Claire thinks she’s a cynic. “Come on,” she says. “Community events like this are great. You get to meet so many people.” Claire loves meeting people. She genuinely loves meeting people: just this morning, she’s chatted to two carpenters about their past WoodFest experiences, talked to a pokerworker about his grandchildren, exchanged fudge recipes with a wheelwright, and bought a hand-carved flute for a discount (because the stall-holder liked her manners). Lois has taken plenty of notes, but has mostly stood back and let Claire work the conversations. (Lois is great at asking incisive questions to shady politicians; less good at chatty discourse with earthy craftsmen.)
“I like meeting people,” Lois says, defensively. “I just… prefer meeting them somewhere different. With tablecloths. And carpeted floors.”
Claire glances down towards Lois’s feet, treading unevenly through an increasingly muddy field, and she lifts an eyebrow. “I did suggest flats.”
Lois glares at her – “Don’t start with me, Kent.” – but Claire just grins. She had, in fact, suggested flats. But Lois refuses to take fashion advice from someone who’s been a star reporter less than two years. Especially when that someone comes to work every day in the same outfit: ponytail, button shirt, slacks, and flats. Claire Kent is many things, but stylish is not one of them.
(Lois would swear blind that Claire had no other outfits, except that she knows for a fact it’s not true. A couple months back they were sent to the sticks to cover an “Annual Corn Husking Rally”, and Claire showed up in a plaid shirt and overalls, with her hair in braids. The Kansas farmgirl is buried just beneath the surface.)
She flips through her notebook. “What do you think? Have we got enough for a decent article?”
“Not quite. They haven’t done the speed carving yet.”
It’s an event held at noon, where the competitors are given a surprise object to carve, and fifteen minutes to carve it. Best likeness wins. It usually produces some decent carvings – along with a fair bit of blood from knife slips. But Claire is right: it should rate a mention in the article.
They grab some tacos, and find a seat near the Festival Square, where six burly men are competing at felling “trees” (really a series of strategically placed poles). And they chat – about work, about Metropolis, about sports (of which Claire knows nothing), about farming (of which Lois knows nothing). It’s a pleasant, friendly conversation between coworkers – which ends when Claire glances at the Square, frowns, and says, “That’s going to fall the wrong way.”
Chapter 3: Impending disasters
There is a moment, after a glass is dropped, where your brain rushes in to show you what is about to happen. You see the glass smash, and the drink splash across the wooden floor, all perfectly presented in your imagination – but there is no time to react, and all you can do is watch as reality catches up with your mind.
The moment the log starts to tip, Lois can see the future: it’s going to slam right into the too-close taco truck, taking out the vendor, along with a few of his customers waiting in line.
She rises to her feet.
Inches away from tragedy, the log stops – Superwoman catching it with her usual easy grace. As bystanders call out, or gasp with relief, she lowers it carefully to the ground, and then casually lifts the taco truck.
“If you folks will all follow me, I think we can relocate you to a less hazardous area,” she says to the customers. And with that she flies the taco truck over some stalls, setting it down gently in a nearby space.
Lois grabs her notebook and begins to jot down what happened. She glances around – but, as usual, Claire has vanished into the crowd, no doubt grabbing some excellent quotes to add to their article.
Most people are grabbing their phones, but Lois already has as many pictures of Superwoman as she could possibly need, so she just watches. After a minute, Superwoman glances her way, smiles, excuses herself, and flies over to Lois.
“Ms Lane,” she says, smiling. (Lois has asked her so many times to call her by her first name – but in public she still usually opts for “Ms Lane”.)
“Superwoman,” Lois responds. “Nice save.”
“Thank you,” Superwoman nods, still smiling. And still hovering slightly above ground level. She’s already quite statusesque – and with her feet off the ground, Lois has to crane her neck to look at her properly. It’s the first time she’s seen Superwoman since Jimmy raised his ridiculous theory. Which is why, despite knowing for certain that there is nothing but friendship between them, Lois is just that little bit more self-conscious.
“Could I, um, grab a quote?” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and then realises that she just tucked her hair behind her ear. Surely this can’t be mistaken for flirting? “About the taco truck?”
Superwoman lifts an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve always enjoyed tacos, Ms Lane. And I’m glad to report that no-one was flattened in their quest for lunch today.”
“Thanks.” Should she untuck her hair? Or would that be crazy?
“Any time.” Superwoman flashes her a smile, dazzling as always. “I look forward to reading your article.” And with that, she’s rising into the sky, waving goodbye to the crowd.
Lois catches her breath. It’s been two years, and she’s still not blasé about that sight. But then, a gorgeous Kryptonian woman springing into the sky, hair streaming out behind her, is a sight that could take decades to get used to.
The crowd goes back to looking at decorative wood, the lumberjacks start a new round of their competition, and Claire returns, typing something into her phone. “Remind me to stop at the Kitchen Kraft stall on our way out,” she says, absentmindedly. “I want to get some salad servers.”
Chapter 4: Perilous heights
Lois grips the ironwork tightly. It’s a tiny, decorative piece of railing – not really there for any reason. But right now, it’s proving useful.
Atmosphere: Too cold. And an unpleasant draft. Could do with some background music.
A couple of skyscrapers away, a giant evil robot is fighting Superwoman. Most of the smaller evil robots have already been disassembled, but the big guy is still going strong.
View: Spectacular. An excellent view of the city skyline, with nothing to get in the way.
Her feet shift uncomfortably on the ledge. Possibly Claire is right, and she should think about switching to flats.
Space: Cramped. Don’t feel like you can really stretch out.
Normally by this time she’d be trying to get rescued. But her favourite superhero is otherwise occupied, and all Lois can do is sit tight, hold on, and try to keep herself calm by writing fictitious reviews of her current location.
Score: 3 out of 10. The view is great, but I wouldn’t come back.
A strong gust of wind sweeps past. Lois closes her eyes tightly, and holds on like her life depends on it – because, frankly, it does.
“Hurry up, Superwoman,” she whispers to herself. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up…”
A throat is cleared, meaningfully, a few feet away. Lois opens her eyes, to find Superwoman hovering in front of her, looking slightly amused.
“Want some help there?”
“Oh, you know…” Lois takes a deep breath and smiles, shakily. “If you’re not too busy.”
“I’ve got a window in my schedule.”
“What about the technobot?”
Superwoman just nods in the direction of the river. Lois follows her gaze, to where the remains of a giant evil robot are smoking, half-submerged.
“Oh. Right.”
Superwoman comes in close, and Lois releases her tiny piece of railing to put her arms around Superwoman’s neck. She always feels safe doing this. Theoretically, she’s still got just as far to fall – but, in practice, buildings and planes involve actual falling, whereas the flying lady has never yet dropped her.
Superwoman scoops up Lois’s legs, and sets off at a steady pace.
“Am I allowed to ask what led to this week’s peril?”
“Just your standard reporter stuff.”
“Right.” Superwoman smiles at her, and asks, “Have you ever considered switching to a safer profession, Lois? Like the bomb squad?”
“Look who I’m talking to.”
“That’s different. I’m bulletproof. And groundproof.”
Lois has a great response to that. If she was in the bullpen right now, she’d be starting a whole thing about how a press-pass requires responsibility and a willingness to take risks. But instead she just smiles, and asks, “Want to comment on the bot fight?”
Superwoman glances at her in an amused and affectionate way that makes Lois catch her breath. “I think I’ll stay off the record until I’ve talked to the mayor.”
“Fair enough.” It was worth a shot. Lois still manages more Superwoman news than most journalists, but she hasn’t had much lately. Ever since Superwoman’s arrival from Krypton two years ago – ever since Lois landed that first exclusive interview (“My Evening with the Visitor from the Stars”) – their names have been inextricably linked. By preference, she likes to get a new interview at least every couple of months.
They arrive at Lois’s apartment, and Superwoman sets her down gently on the balcony. “Will you be alright from here?”
“Yes. Thanks – for the rescue.”
“Of course.” Superwoman touches her arm, and looks at her seriously. “Lois – be careful out there, okay? I don’t want to arrive too late next time.”
Lois nods, and Superwoman flies away – no doubt heading towards the river to debrief concerning today’s battle. In a minute Lois will retrieve her spare key from under the potted ficus, and head inside to do some serious typing, but for a few moments she stands and watches as a red cape gets further and further away.
She can still feel Superwoman’s hand on her arm.
Chapter 5: Theoretical discussions
So, there’s a possibility that Jimmy might not be delusional.
Lois takes it well. She’s pretty good at adapting to new circumstances. But she still feels like she could use some advice.
She finds Claire in the break room, stirring far too much sugar into her coffee.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.” Claire looks up. “What do you need?”
This is awkward. Lois isn’t quite sure where to start. “I… You see…”
Claire waits, patiently.
“You’re a lesbian. You understand lesbian… stuff.”
Claire pauses a moment, then raises her eyebrows. “I think I’m going to need a bit more context.”
They’re interrrupted briefly by a couple of junior reporters, chatting about their weekends while fixing coffee. Lois and Claire wait, awkwardly silent, until the others leave the break room. Then Claire leans against the countertop, sipping her coffee, and watching Lois, speculatively.
Lois crosses her arms in front of her and just dives straight in. “I’m unexpectedly interested in someone – a woman - and I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”
“What, physically?”
“No! No, that’s… It’s more that I’m not sure. I mean, I think I’m interested in her, but I’ve never really had that happen before, so I don’t know if I should be trying to pursue anything, or if I should just leave it in case I’m not actually into her after all.”
“Hmm.” Claire frowns. “Interesting.”
“So? Any thoughts?”
Claire doesn’t answer immediately, but hops up to sit on top of the counter, legs dangling down. She’s fairly tall, and never really left the gangly phase, so she takes up far too much space in this kitchenette. She takes another sip of coffee, and asks, “Has she shown any interest in you?”
“Um… maybe? She might have.”
“And you… think you’re interested in her.”
“Yes, I just said that.”
Claire grins at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ve just been working with you for two years now, and I think this might be the first time I’ve seen you not completely certain.”
Lois glares at her. “Kent, I’m being vulnerable here.”
“You’re right, sorry.” Claire grins some more, and asks, “Who are we talking about, exactly?”
She can feel her face going bright red. But, what the hell: “It’s Superwoman. I’ve got a thing for Superwoman. I think.”
Claire’s face freezes. She stares blankly forward, her brain clearly on pause.
“I know, Jimmy’s been teasing me about this for weeks, but I think there might actually be something there, so…”
Claire is still stuck, unable to form words.
“Claire? If this is uncomfortable for you, that’s okay.” Lois shifts, awkwardly. “I can get someone else to help me solve the problem.”
“No.” Claire blinks a couple of times, shakes her head, and then looks directly at Lois. “No. I’ve solved it. You should go out with her.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Of course. You two would be awesome together.” She raises an eyebrow. “Unless you have an ethical thing about dating aliens?”
“That’s not the point. What about my actual ethical dilemma? What if I go out with Superwoman, and then discover I’m actually not attracted to women, and it was all my imagination? That’s not really fair on her.”
Claire snorts with amusement. “She’s a Kryptonian demigoddess. I doubt you’re going to hurt her feelings.”
“No, but seriously…”
Claire interrupts her. “In my experience, women like that – confident, upfront – they’ll be fine with almost anything so long as you’re being honest with them. Tell her what’s going on. If Superwoman thinks dating you is a bad idea, she’ll tell you. I promise.”
Lois narrows her eyes. “You sound almost like you’re talking from personal experience, Kent.”
“Who, me?”
“Oh my god. You did, didn’t you? You hit on Superwoman!”
Claire calmly finishes her coffee. “I’m admitting nothing.”
Chapter 6: Romantic evenings
“Here we are.” Superwoman sets her down gently on the balcony.
“Thanks.” Lois decides to go for it. “Would you… like to stay for dinner?”
Superwoman raises her eyebrows, looking slightly surprised.
“I mean, it won’t be anything elaborate. Maybe Chinese take-out, or… But I’d love some company, if you have time.”
“Thank you, Lois. I’d love to.”
Their hands touch unexpectedly, reaching for fortune cookies. Lois hesitates, and then carefully, deliberately, puts her hand on Superwoman’s.
Superwoman doesn’t pull away.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Lois.”
“None of the bullets actually hit me. I’m fine. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I’d be happier if you weren’t around bullets in the first place, but I’m glad I could help.”
“If you’ve got time later, you should fly past my place. We could have coffee.”
“For you? Absolutely.”
They’re eating fries on top of Lincoln Tower, watching the sunset.
“What was it like on Krypton?” Lois asks.
“Where I grew up?” Superwoman’s eyes get distant for a moment. Then she replies, “Lovely. Quiet. Kind of beautiful.”
“Quiet? I thought Krypton was a giant civilisation, full of people.”
“It is – but we still have rural areas. And my family’s f– our, um, estate – it has these long grassy stretches, where you can feel completely alone. I used to lie there and pretend I was the only person on the planet. Just me and the sky.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Yes, it is.” Superwoman takes another handful of fries and adds, nonchalantly, “Also, the trees are blue.”
The Mayor holds a press conference, announcing that the Monkey Theft epidemic is at an end. Superwoman stands on the stage, providing a reassuring presence.
Lois is in the audience – working solo today. (Claire is home with a stomach bug.) She asks a couple of insightful questions, and starts sketching notes on her Monkey Theft article as the Mayor answers everyone else’s less interesting questions.
As Superwoman walks past her, she greets Lois with a formal “Ms Lane,” but flashes her a tiny secret smile that is just for them. And Lois’s heart skips a beat.
They float just above the city skyline, with Superwoman’s cape wrapped around Lois for warmth. The night sky is beautiful from up here.
Lois gazes into her eyes as Superwoman – Ellara – gently leans forward and kisses her.
“And he told me I should start carrying mace. Start!” Lois is still rolling her eyes.
Ellara grins. “I take it he’s not aware of your subscription to Mace Monthly.”
“I’ve got four Pulitzers, but in the General’s eyes I’m still a clueless teenager.”
“Tell me about it. My mom is still on my case about fighting Metallo in the middle of town. Apparently I should have relocated him to somewhere less populated.”
“Your mom? She knows about that?”
Ellara frowns slightly. “Oh. Yes. I communicate with my parents regularly. With… special Kryptonian technology I have at my fortress.”
“Wow.” Lois blinks. “I had no idea.”
“Well, I’d rather that stays off the record, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
But Ellara still looks slightly bothered. Lois changes the subject, and they talk about the latest news from Gotham, instead.
They make out on Lois’s sofa – and again, after accidentally rolling off the sofa, on Lois’s carpet.
Ellara is an incredible kisser, with a knack for having her hands in the right place. Meanwhile, Lois discovers she can make an invulnerable superbeing shudder with desire.
Ellara is adamant that Metropolis has the best pizza in the US.
“Oh, come on! What about Chicago? Deep-dish pizza is amazing!”
“Deep-dish pizza is strange and wrong. There’s a reason no-one else does it.”
“You can’t just pick your food based on town loyalty. Metropolis is good at plenty of things, but it’s not always the best.”
“Of course it is! Why else do you think I moved here?”
Lois grabs another slice of pepperoni, and raises an eyebrow. “Why did you move here, anyway? To Earth, I mean.”
Ellara pauses for a minute, and then answers slowly, “I guess I just… wanted to help.”
Lois nods.
“Where I grew up, there weren’t… it wasn’t as… um… disaster-prone as around here.”
“You guys have kind of solved most of those issues, then?”
“Mmm.” Ellara takes a sip of her soda, and adds, “I also wanted to get out and explore the world. There’s so much to see around here!”
Lois laughs quietly.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just weird to think of interplanetary travel as tourism.”
“I suppose.”
Ellara looks at Lois sadly. “This isn’t going to work out.”
She seems dead serious, but Lois still can’t quite take in the words. “But–”
“I’m sorry, Lois. I really am.” She takes Lois’s hand in hers, gently, tentatively, and they link fingers as Ellara continues. “I thought I’d try, but this just doesn’t work. I can’t… I can’t be myself around you.”
It doesn’t make sense. “Things were going so well.”
Ellara looks sad – but also resolute. “I hope we can still be friends. I really do care about you.”
“Of course. Of course we’ll be friends.”
Ellara drops her hand, and takes a step back.
“Goodbye, Lois.”
And Superwoman flies away.
Chapter 7: Annoying coworkers
Lois is, unfortunately, an expert on getting dumped. That doesn’t mean she has to like it.
It is fine. Statistically, most relationships will crash and burn, and she’s learned to just enjoy the ride. And Lois is a big girl. She’ll cope. She kind of has to. After all, as long as there’s journalism in Metropolis, her level of peril isn’t going to noticeably decrease. They’re still going to run into each other regularly.
Give it a few weeks, and she’ll be absolutely over it.
Meanwhile, she’s dealing with her feelings by taking out the breakup on hapless interns. She sends them for coffee, complains about the coffee, makes them spellcheck her articles, complains when they correct words she’s pretty sure might be spelled right, and is scathingly, overwhelmingly sarcastic at them whenever they irritate her. Which is often.
Jimmy is keeping a wide berth. He has enough experience to get when Lois wants to be left alone.
Even Claire is staying out of it. Which is honestly a shame – at the moment Lois would welcome someone making snarky comments at her. It’d be a nice distraction. But Claire has been withdrawn, lately. And now that Lois is biting the head off anyone who annoys her, Claire is mostly watching, quietly, with a serious look on her face.
“New story for you, Lane.” Perry unceremoniously dumps a bunch of files on her desk. He doesn’t like email. “Get this sorted, will you?”
As is typical for Perry, the stack looks like a random assortment of unrelated information: various police reports about petty theft, a drainage inspection report, some blog posts written by a conspiracy theorist, and a newspaper clipping from thirty years ago about the opera house being refurbished. But Perry knows his stuff, which means there’s a story hidden somewhere within the chaos.
Lois starts to sort through the files.
“Anything interesting?” Claire is standing next to her desk, looking politely curious. For some reason, Lois finds this irritating.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Silence from Claire – and Lois looks up and says flatly, “Perry’s been giving me stuff like this for years. I’m an experienced journalist; I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure you don’t…”
Lois looks at her pointedly, and asks, “Do you need something else?”
Claire hesitates. Then: “No.” And she returns to her own desk.
Lois keeps sifting through Perry’s print-outs.
Chapter 8: Fashion disasters
She’s tired. She’s cranky. She’s lost all credibility with her source, which means she’s lost her story. She’s dripping mud from head to toe. And she’s going to kill Claire Kent when she gets back to the office.
But honestly, it’s all basically Claire’s fault. Just because Lois informed her she was working on this story solo, and didn’t want any help, and was perfectly capable of creating journalistic magic all by herself – there was no reason for Claire to believe her.
Things have been strained all week. Lois has been annoyed, Claire has been quiet, and articles haven’t been writing themselves properly. Not to mention, yesterday Lois got a new lead, and was keeping it hush-hush so that she could get a decent byline for once, and then Claire went and scooped her! Took the day’s front page, without even having the decency to add “and Lois Lane” after her name.
No wonder Lois left the Planet by herself this morning.
A few yards away, Superwoman is fighting the sewer monster who just tried to drown Lois. If she was feeling more like her usual self, Lois would be trying to mentally compose a new article about this – but seriously, the sewer monster’s been making headlines for over three decades, and Superwoman’s already fought it twice, so what would be the point?
She crosses her arms and waits, already resigned to the fact that Superwoman will have to help her out of these tunnels. Which is going to be wonderfully awkward, all things considered.
The sewer monster bellows, and tries to attack again. Superwoman sends a blast of ice breath at it, closely followed by a punch, and it finally retreats, diving back into the gloop it emerged from.
Lois shifts, balancing awkwardly on a single high heel. The other one is lost, somewhere in the swamp underfoot.
“Are you okay?” Superwoman is in front of her.
“Yes, I’m fine. And…” – waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the recent fight – “thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She holds out a hand. “So… shall we?”
Lois puts her arms around Superwoman’s neck, as she’s done a hundred times before. They fly along the tunnels, and up into the open air. Then Superwoman glances at her and says, “I’ll take you home.”
Lois stiffens. “No.”
“No?”
“No. You can just drop me here.”
“But you’re…” Superwoman pauses, and says quietly, “Lois, you’re kind of filthy.”
“I’m not in danger, I’m not needing to be rescued. It’s just a little mud.”
They land, in the centre of Wilson Boulevard. Superwoman is still looking unsure. “I’d be happy to–”
“Seriously. No.” Lois glares at her. “If I’m just an ordinary rescue, you need to treat me like an ordinary rescue. You’re not a taxi service. And I’m fine.” She smiles, trying to look bright and unconcerned. Trying to maintain some dignity, even if she is dripping in sewer slime.
Superwoman hesitates, then nods. And flies away.
And now she’s late to the press conference at City Hall. Perfect.
She shows up seven minutes late, barefoot, and still muddy. And Claire’s saved her a seat – which means Lois has to walk, unconcernedly, to sit in the front row, while ignoring the sideways glances.
Claire raises an eyebrow at her, and mutters, “Okay there?”
“I’m fine.” Lois sits, stiffly upright, trying to look like she’s listening to the city’s Head of Infrastructure and whatever the hell he’s talking about.
Claire reaches into her backpack and passes Lois a notebook and pen, murmuring, “If this is ‘fine’, then you have severe issues.”
Lois glares at her. “This is just what good journalism looks like,” she says, under her breath. But she takes the notebook; hers is lost somewhere in a dark tunnel, alongside a very expensive shoe.
The Head of Infrastructure is detailing the plans for a new monorail system, that he says will “launch Metropolis into the Twentieth Century!” He’s said that three times in the last five sentences, and Lois wonders how long it’ll take him to realise that he’s about 100 years out of date. But she takes notes, and listens carefully, and by the time he wraps up she’s got a couple of decent questions ready to go. She raises her hand.
He fields questions from The Star and Metropolis Gazette, and then notices her. “Yes, Ms… Lane.” His voice trails off as he registers her appearance.
So now every reporter in the place is noticing her too, and an undercurrent of laughter ripples around the room.
Lois ignores them, and asks her question. “Is the City Council confident that this monorail project will be more successful than the original one, 17 years ago?”
He pauses a moment, and comments, “So glad you dressed up for us.” Then he starts answering her question. But Lois can’t pay attention. She can feel herself turning bright red. The two Gazette reporters across the aisle are smirking at her.
A swipe across her arm surprises her. Lois turns – and double-takes.
Claire is solemnly painting herself in mud. There is sewer slime smeared across both cheeks, her forehead and her nose. And she’s still going.
“What are you doing?”
Claire raises an eyebrow. “What? I’m just learning how to be a good journalist.” She’s trying to look serious, but her eyes are sparkling.
Lois glares at her. Claire grins back. Suddenly, they both crack up laughing – somewhat quietly – while the press conference continues around them.
And then everything’s all right again.
Chapter 9: Late-night deadlines
Six Lexcorp employees were found murdered this afternoon, two days after a whistleblower came forward about embezzlement. And now everyone’s scrambling to meet their deadlines.
The reporters covering the murders got to go home an hour ago, but it’s eleven o’clock and Lois and Claire are still paragraphs behind on the in-depth embezzling article. Lois sighs and looks blearily at her computer screen. At time like these, journalism doesn’t feel nearly as glamorous as it should.
The elevator pings, and Jimmy enters, carrying multiple pizza boxes. “Dinner delivery! I got three pies, and also soda.” He puts everything down on Lois’s desk. “And Lois, you’re going to love me: I found a place that does deep-dish.”
Lois opens the lid of the pizza box and sighs. “Jimmy, I admire and adore you.”
He turns. “Claire? Deep-dish?”
Claire shakes her head. “Deep-dish pizza is deeply weird.” She grabs a slice of margherita, instead.
Jimmy cracks open a soda, and collapses in his chair. “It’s so nice to be inside, for once! I’ve spent far too much of this week taking photos outside, and it hasn’t stopped raining for days.”
“That’s the price you pay for being a world-class photographer, Jimmy,” Lois comments around a mouthful, still typing one-handed.
“Maybe I should hire someone else to do the photos for me, so I could just stay here and edit them.” He puts his feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “What d’you think? Wouldn’t it be great to have a suave guy at the next desk, helping you with your deadlines? Bringing you pizza? Flirting with Lois?”
Claire looks up from her computer. “Isn’t that my job?” She flashes a quick grin at Lois, and returns to her article.
“Well, there’s that,” Jimmy concedes.
It takes Lois several seconds to realise she’s not actually reading what she’s typing. She backspaces, sheepishly.
Jimmy starts editing some shots while finishing off his soda. Lois does a few minutes of serious writing, and then sits back, narrowing her eyes at the screen. “I think this might work. Come have a look.”
Claire comes over, and leans in over Lois’s shoulder. “Hmm, good,” she says, thoughtfully. “But I’m not sure we want to accuse Lex Luthor of having run for pubic office.”
“Yes, heavens forfend we sully the pristine name of Lex Luthor.”
Claire laughs. “True.” She’s still leaning in, so close Lois can practically feel her.
“Besides, that’s just spelling.” Lois dismisses spelling with a wave of her hand. “Is the article any good?”
Claire is looking at her ruefully, over the top of her glasses. “Dear god, I hope so. Otherwise we’re never going to get home.”
She’s not wrong. Lois dutifully types in the missing L, and emails her work to the typesetters.
A good night’s sleep is all she really needs.
Chapter 10: Intriguing encounters
Here’s the thing: Lois is an expert in body language and human behaviour. It’s how she can tell when interviewees are trying to conceal the truth from her. It’s already landed her four Pulitzers. Which means there’s absolutely no way she would have missed it if Claire was actually flirting with her.
Lois orders pad Thai for lunch, and eats at her desk – somehow managing to drop noodles all over her paperwork.
She’s scraping off as much as she can – somewhat successfully – when she feels eyes on her, and looks across to Claire’s desk, where Claire is resting her chin on one hand and watching Lois with a slight smile.
“What?” Lois demands. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I just love watching you completely fail at using a fork.”
Lois leaves the room, and waits until the door is completely shut before pointing out, “I had that question in mind.”
“I’m sure you did,” Claire agrees.
“You didn’t have to jump in, Kent, just because I took my time.”
“I was happy to help.”
“Don’t start. After all, of the two of us, which is the experienced, prize-winning, senior reporter?”
Claire pauses and thinks, managing to look genuinely puzzled. Lois huffs at her and walks off, with Claire following behind, saying “Wait, I’ll get it, just give me a hint…”
Lois changes in the office restroom, and emerges ready to go, in a baby-blue dress and heels, wearing her favourite necklace.
Claire raises an eyebrow as she spots Lois. “Nice,” she says, appreciatively.
Lois feels weirdly self-conscious, but plays it cool. “Oh, I’m going to a thing. It’s for the Metropolis Zoo. It’s a fundraiser.”
Claire sits back in her chair, still looking at Lois. “Well – the zoo is very lucky.”
She’s on the phone to a source, jotting down notes as she goes.
She barely notices Claire arriving back in the bullpen, until Claire puts a muffin down on top of Lois’s keyboard. Lois pauses, mid-sentence.
Raspberry and white chocolate.
She looks across at Claire, who is settling into her chair with another muffin. Claire toasts her, muffin in hand, and then takes a mouthful.
Her source is still on the phone. Lois blinks, and restarts her sentence. “And when you last saw the Senator, what did he…”
Her life wasn’t actually in danger this time – but she still ends up covered in duck feathers, and late to meet Claire at the Main Street parade.
Claire raises an eyebrow as she takes in Lois’s appearance.
Lois rolls her eyes. “Don’t ask.”
“Never do,” Claire says. “But I would like a photo.”
Lois glares, and punches Claire on the shoulder.
“You’re going to yell at Perry.”
“I’m not.”
“You so are,” Claire says, knowingly. “The Mayor dodged your question, and now you’re going to take it out on Perry. And then you’re going to kick yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Kent.”
And she is, in fact, able to completely keep her cool, for several minutes into the meeting – until Perry gives Richardson the Queen Industries interview. The one that should have been hers.
Lois is about to be extremely loud and sarcastic at the world, when she glances over to see Claire watching her speculatively over her coffee cup. Lois rolls her eyes pointedly at her, and stays silent. Perry keeps handing out assignments.
Claire just grins.
Okay, so it’s faintly possible that Claire is a gigantic flirt, and that Lois has failed to notice because her brilliant body language skills aren’t up to date with the complexities of lesbian relationships.
This whole situation requires some serious analysis.
Does she like Claire? Of course. They work well together.
Does she like-like Claire? …maybe. She’s never really considered it before, because Claire’s not her type at all. But Lois is beginning to suspect she’s positively bisexual – and maybe her sexual orientation is even flexible enough to include women who voluntarily listen to Metallica.
If this relationship crashes and burns – as is tradition – will it completely screw up Lois’s life? That’s really the only question that matters. Lois is usually willing to take a chance on dating someone, win or lose – but if she loses this, she’ll probably also lose a very nice friendship. A very important friendship.
Maybe it would be better not to take the risk.
Another day, another deadline, another evening in the bullpen alone with Claire Kent.
“Coffee?”
Claire takes the proferred mug, and smiles tiredly, eyes still on her computer screen. “Next time Livewire decides to blow up downtown, I want to be on vacation.”
“Tell me about it.” They have to cover Livewire’s hacking of the live broadcast, the initial ransom demand, the explosion, the second ransom demand, a drawn-out fight with Superwoman, and Livewire’s screaming threats of vengeance. And that’s just from today; Perry also wants a double-page spread on Livewire’s past crimes. No wonder Claire’s looking exhausted. “Maybe we should have a chat with Superwoman, and ask her to keep all the chaos at bay for a couple weeks.”
A smile. “Maybe.”
Lois leans back against Claire’s desk. “Or maybe we should ask Perry for some time off.”
“Both of us?” Claire grins at her. “How would the Planet survive?”
“Well, you’re right, it’d probably crash and burn,” Lois concedes.
“Without its prize-winning star reporter? Definitely.”
“I dunno, though.” Lois tentatively lays her hand on Claire’s. “It might be worth it.”
Claire stills.
Complete silence, stretching out between them.
Lois doesn’t speak – but slowly moves her hand until she and Claire are linking fingers.
Claire looks up at her. “Is this… just you being on the rebound?” she asks, quietly.
“I’m not even slightly on the rebound,” Lois says, firmly. She frowns and adds, “And how do you know I am, anyway?”
A wry smile. “Well, you did get a bit mopey, there.”
“I guess I did.” She’s tracing her thumb gently across the back of Claire’s hand.
Claire takes a deep breath, starts to say something – pauses. Then starts again. “I’m sorry, Lois.”
“You’re…”
“I like you – I really do.” She looks calm, yet very slightly devastated. “But I don’t think it’d work.”
This is unexpected. Damn.
Lois smiles ruefully. “So, let me guess. You knew about my breakup with Superwoman, and decided to really twist the knife by flat-out rejecting me in my vulnerable state?”
Their fingers are still entwined.
Claire raises an eyebrow, with a tentative grin. “If you want I can come burn down your apartment,” she offers.
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Lois replies.
They smile at each other, quietly.
One slight squeeze, and then Claire drops her hand.
Chapter 11: Gang-related explosions
Claire is discussing the latest news on Intergang with Richardson. She finishes making a coffee – cream, no sugar – and hands it to Lois without even pausing. Then she starts making herself a coffee, still talking to Richardson.
Lois has always wanted what she can’t have. Especially when it’s tantalisingly only a few inches out of reach.
It’s been two weeks since Lois’s failed attempt at getting a date. Two weeks, and Claire’s behaviour hasn’t really changed at all. Lois, meanwhile, has never been more conscious of Claire’s presence. No matter how much she tells herself that Claire is not an option, Lois still keeps on accidentally glancing across to Claire’s desk; listening for Claire’s voice joining in on office conversations; noticing every time Claire leaves her seat and every time she returns.
Now, as she leaves the break room, Lois flashes a slight thanks-for-the-coffee smile at Claire, and is acknowledged with a friendly nod. And somehow this is enough to make Lois feel flushed and slightly self-conscious all the way back to her desk.
As she settles in at her computer, Jimmy messages her phone. Repeatedly.
He’s not wrong. If Fazznio is genuinely in Metropolis, and meeting with people at Central Plaza (home to most of the dodgy businessmen she knows), there’s definitely a story brewing. Lois grabs her bag, and yells for Claire as she races to catch the elevator.
…which, long story short, is how Lois ends up handcuffed to Claire, sitting back-to-back on either side of a steel beam, while the mobsters activate a home-made detonator leading to an even-more-home-made bomb, and leave the factory.
“Okay there, Lois?”
“Yep. Fine. Hurry up and pick the cuffs.”
(Why, yes. They have done this before.)
“Got them!”
They spring up, and run – Lois heads for the door to the stairwell, and it swings closed behind her just as she hears the explosion. She crouches, head under arms, braced for anything that might fall on her, but somehow the stairwell stays intact.
“Lois!” calls Claire from behind her.
She turns. No, it’s not Claire – it’s Superwoman.
“We need to get you out of here.” Superwoman grabs her, swiftly, and flies upward – punching through the ceiling like it’s not even there.
They land, fast, and Lois turns to see that the factory is on fire, and collapsing in on itself. She grabs Superwoman’s arm. “Claire! Claire is in there!”
“I’ll get her.” Superwoman takes off again, plunging into the factory with incredible speed.
Lois stands, tense and helpless, watching the fire. Then – “Lois!” – Claire emerges from the laneway, sooty, with her glasses askew. She smiles in relief at Lois, and walks over to her, slowly.
“Where’s Superwoman?”
“I think she’s gone back into the factory, to check for more people,” Claire replies. She rights her glasses, and looks at Lois with concern. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Lois nods. “But we should probably go call the police. And the fire department.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I wonder how Superwoman knew to come.”
“Mmm.”
As they go in search of a phone, a new idea strikes Lois, completely out of the blue. After all, she’s a prize-winning journalist. She’s not stupid.
Chapter 12: Implausible theories
The first rule of reporting is simple: figure out what you know.
Lois draws up a list with two columns. “Claire” on the left; “Superwoman” on the right. And she writes down, randomly, every single fact she knows about them, in the order it occurs to her.
Claire likes hokey festivals.
Superwoman is from outer-space.
Claire is from Kansas.
Superwoman likes pizza.
Claire has a sweet-tooth.
Superwoman is a great kisser.
Claire has a journalism degree.
Superwoman lives in an ice fortress.
It goes on and on, until she’s filled the whole page. Then she sits back, and reads it all, item by item. And then, slowly, methodically, she picks up a sharpie and scrawls BLATANT LIES across Superwoman’s column.
Then she sits and thinks some more.
It can’t be true, surely.
Lois has a working theory – but it’s an insane working theory, without a single piece of proof. So she spends the next few weeks waiting, watching for anything to confirm or deny her suspicions.
The clothes would make sense. The ponytail would make sense. The timeline almost fits (with some leeway given, assuming more lies). And that laugh, now that she’s listening for it, is far too obvious. It’s a lovely laugh, low and full, and wonderfully familiar – Lois has heard it dozens of times before – but now it’s coming from the wrong person.
During the next shuttle launch crisis, instead of hovering around the TV with the rest of the bullpen, Lois spends the time systematically checking the break room, the restrooms, the supply closets, the elevator – and finding nothing. And when she hears everyone start cheering that Superwoman’s saved the day, Lois closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, because she finally knows for sure.
Three days later, Barrage is holding her hostage (again) on top of City Hall. And, naturally, Superwoman captures him and flies him down to give into police custody. Lois knows damn well that there’s no way off this roof (except with a key she doesn’t have), so she sits down on an air vent, feeling cranky.
“Let’s get you down, shall we?”
She looks up. Superwoman is back.
“Uh-huh.”
Superwoman picks her up, and flies. “Is everything okay, Lois?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Superwoman looks at her, with her brow furrowed. “You seem… upset.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
They fly on. Not towards the ground, but across the city, and Lois realises that Superwoman is delivering her home.
“It’s just that I’ve been working on this story for days, all by myself, and now I’m going to feel obligated to share my byline with you.”
Superwoman smiles at her. “That would be funny.”
“No. No it wouldn’t. You’ve already had five great headlines this month, and Barrage’s Intergang connection was mine.”
Superwoman looks uncertain. “Lois–”
“I know, saving my life is pretty awesome. But it’s also your job, at least sort of. And so help me, Kent, if you scoop me again we are gonna throw down.”
They fly in silence for nearly a minute. And then Superwoman finally regains her voice. “Oh.”
Lois rolls her eyes. “Yes. Oh.”
They land on her balcony, and Superwoman crosses her arms, looking more awkward than Lois has ever seen her before. “Um… How long have you known? Exactly?”
“Not very long.”
Superwoman nods, still looking uncomfortable. Lois watches her for a few seconds before taking pity on her.
She raises an eyebrow. “So, now that’s settled…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you can get over yourself, and go out with me?”
Superwoman looks absolutely flummoxed. Lois just grins.
Slowly, tentatively, Claire smiles. And throws her a look that’s positively Claireish, even without the glasses. “Yes.” She puts her arms around Lois’s waist and draws her gently in. “Yes, I think I can.”
Title: Midnight Pizza, and Byline Obligations
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7830
Pairing: Lois Lane/Claire Kent
Summary: It's possible that Lois might have a crush on Superwoman. But she's not certain.
Midnight Pizza, and Byline Obligations
Chapter 1: Photographic fantasies
“Hey, Lois, will your girlfriend be at the gala this weekend? Crashing jets notwithstanding.”
Lois looks up from her computer, confused. “Sorry, what?”
Jimmy is sorting through the chaos on his desk. “I’m on photos at the gala. I’m trying to get a list of possible names and faces so I can plan for all the good shots.”
“My… girlfriend?”
He frowns, and clarifies. “Superwoman. Is she planning to be there?”
“How on earth would I know? She doesn’t tell me her schedule. And, more importantly,” – Lois gets to her feet, unable to believe she actually has to clarify this – “Superwoman is not my girlfriend!”
A moment of silence, and then Jimmy raises an eyebrow and says, “I mean… she kind of is.”
“I think I’d know if I was dating her, Jimmy.”
He grabs his tablet, pulls up his photo files, and starts flipping through shots. “Here you are, gazing into each other’s eyes” (the time she was pushed off of Lincoln Tower) “and sharing a quiet moment together” (after Superwoman stopped the flamethrower bank heist) “and then flying together – look how intimately your arms are draped around her shoulders.”
“That’s just the way she carries people.”
He’s still showing photos. “And more eye gazing… more flying… and… yeah, there’s also that.”
It’s a photo of Lois and Superwoman shortly after Lois fell out of a plane. Her hair was kind of everywhere (and, in fairness, there is almost no way to skydive and maintain a good hairstyle), and Superwoman was brushing a piece of it out of Lois’s face, smiling at her. It was, of course, a perfectly innocent moment of friendship and camaraderie, and meant absolutely nothing more. Jimmy, however, seems to consider it as definitive proof. He grins at her and says, “These are all from the last month.”
“Olsen, I don’t know what kind of gossip you’re hoping for, but this? This is a normal situation of Superwoman rescuing someone. She’s a friendly person.”
Jimmy rolls his eyes and turns to the next desk, where Claire Kent is trying to pretend she hasn’t been eavesdropping. “Claire, help me out, here. You’ve got to see this, right?”
Claire takes the tablet, and flips through the shots, clearly amused. Eventually she hands it to Lois, and says, deadpan, “You’re raising the hopes of every lesbian in Metropolis.”
Lois huffs in disbelief. “You too, Kent?”
“What can I say?” She shrugs. “The chemistry’s off the charts.”
“It’s not–” Lois stops, and says, “Forget it. This is dumb, and I have deadlines. Claire, I’m sending you my notes on the airport story, you can finish it. And Olsen–” she looks at him sternly. “Sorry if reality gets in the way of a good story, but I am perfectly comfortable being single. Even if I am destroying the hopes and dreams of a thousand lesbians.”
Claire grins at Lois over her glasses. “It’s okay. We’re used to disappointment.”
It takes Lois two days to catch that “we”.
Chapter 2: Hokey festivals
The Metropolis Woodpecker Festival is a tradition dating back 130 years. No actual woodpeckers are involved: local woodcrafters (carvers, carpenters, pokerworkers, you name it) display their wares while various wood-related competitions happen in the Festival Square. It’s a charming local event, that captures the heart of what it means to be in Metropolis. So Perry says. Lois would rather describe it as “a cynical cash-grab, preying on nostalgia, so that clueless tourists get charmed into extravagance and only realise when they get home that they’ve paid a hundred dollars for a handcrafted bird feeder, which – when you get right down to it – is basically just a box.”
But Perry’s still in charge, so Lois has to write the article anyway, even if it means a day surrounded by woodcarvings and people selling hotdogs.
Claire thinks she’s a cynic. “Come on,” she says. “Community events like this are great. You get to meet so many people.” Claire loves meeting people. She genuinely loves meeting people: just this morning, she’s chatted to two carpenters about their past WoodFest experiences, talked to a pokerworker about his grandchildren, exchanged fudge recipes with a wheelwright, and bought a hand-carved flute for a discount (because the stall-holder liked her manners). Lois has taken plenty of notes, but has mostly stood back and let Claire work the conversations. (Lois is great at asking incisive questions to shady politicians; less good at chatty discourse with earthy craftsmen.)
“I like meeting people,” Lois says, defensively. “I just… prefer meeting them somewhere different. With tablecloths. And carpeted floors.”
Claire glances down towards Lois’s feet, treading unevenly through an increasingly muddy field, and she lifts an eyebrow. “I did suggest flats.”
Lois glares at her – “Don’t start with me, Kent.” – but Claire just grins. She had, in fact, suggested flats. But Lois refuses to take fashion advice from someone who’s been a star reporter less than two years. Especially when that someone comes to work every day in the same outfit: ponytail, button shirt, slacks, and flats. Claire Kent is many things, but stylish is not one of them.
(Lois would swear blind that Claire had no other outfits, except that she knows for a fact it’s not true. A couple months back they were sent to the sticks to cover an “Annual Corn Husking Rally”, and Claire showed up in a plaid shirt and overalls, with her hair in braids. The Kansas farmgirl is buried just beneath the surface.)
She flips through her notebook. “What do you think? Have we got enough for a decent article?”
“Not quite. They haven’t done the speed carving yet.”
It’s an event held at noon, where the competitors are given a surprise object to carve, and fifteen minutes to carve it. Best likeness wins. It usually produces some decent carvings – along with a fair bit of blood from knife slips. But Claire is right: it should rate a mention in the article.
They grab some tacos, and find a seat near the Festival Square, where six burly men are competing at felling “trees” (really a series of strategically placed poles). And they chat – about work, about Metropolis, about sports (of which Claire knows nothing), about farming (of which Lois knows nothing). It’s a pleasant, friendly conversation between coworkers – which ends when Claire glances at the Square, frowns, and says, “That’s going to fall the wrong way.”
Chapter 3: Impending disasters
There is a moment, after a glass is dropped, where your brain rushes in to show you what is about to happen. You see the glass smash, and the drink splash across the wooden floor, all perfectly presented in your imagination – but there is no time to react, and all you can do is watch as reality catches up with your mind.
The moment the log starts to tip, Lois can see the future: it’s going to slam right into the too-close taco truck, taking out the vendor, along with a few of his customers waiting in line.
She rises to her feet.
Inches away from tragedy, the log stops – Superwoman catching it with her usual easy grace. As bystanders call out, or gasp with relief, she lowers it carefully to the ground, and then casually lifts the taco truck.
“If you folks will all follow me, I think we can relocate you to a less hazardous area,” she says to the customers. And with that she flies the taco truck over some stalls, setting it down gently in a nearby space.
Lois grabs her notebook and begins to jot down what happened. She glances around – but, as usual, Claire has vanished into the crowd, no doubt grabbing some excellent quotes to add to their article.
Most people are grabbing their phones, but Lois already has as many pictures of Superwoman as she could possibly need, so she just watches. After a minute, Superwoman glances her way, smiles, excuses herself, and flies over to Lois.
“Ms Lane,” she says, smiling. (Lois has asked her so many times to call her by her first name – but in public she still usually opts for “Ms Lane”.)
“Superwoman,” Lois responds. “Nice save.”
“Thank you,” Superwoman nods, still smiling. And still hovering slightly above ground level. She’s already quite statusesque – and with her feet off the ground, Lois has to crane her neck to look at her properly. It’s the first time she’s seen Superwoman since Jimmy raised his ridiculous theory. Which is why, despite knowing for certain that there is nothing but friendship between them, Lois is just that little bit more self-conscious.
“Could I, um, grab a quote?” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and then realises that she just tucked her hair behind her ear. Surely this can’t be mistaken for flirting? “About the taco truck?”
Superwoman lifts an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve always enjoyed tacos, Ms Lane. And I’m glad to report that no-one was flattened in their quest for lunch today.”
“Thanks.” Should she untuck her hair? Or would that be crazy?
“Any time.” Superwoman flashes her a smile, dazzling as always. “I look forward to reading your article.” And with that, she’s rising into the sky, waving goodbye to the crowd.
Lois catches her breath. It’s been two years, and she’s still not blasé about that sight. But then, a gorgeous Kryptonian woman springing into the sky, hair streaming out behind her, is a sight that could take decades to get used to.
The crowd goes back to looking at decorative wood, the lumberjacks start a new round of their competition, and Claire returns, typing something into her phone. “Remind me to stop at the Kitchen Kraft stall on our way out,” she says, absentmindedly. “I want to get some salad servers.”
Chapter 4: Perilous heights
Lois grips the ironwork tightly. It’s a tiny, decorative piece of railing – not really there for any reason. But right now, it’s proving useful.
Atmosphere: Too cold. And an unpleasant draft. Could do with some background music.
A couple of skyscrapers away, a giant evil robot is fighting Superwoman. Most of the smaller evil robots have already been disassembled, but the big guy is still going strong.
View: Spectacular. An excellent view of the city skyline, with nothing to get in the way.
Her feet shift uncomfortably on the ledge. Possibly Claire is right, and she should think about switching to flats.
Space: Cramped. Don’t feel like you can really stretch out.
Normally by this time she’d be trying to get rescued. But her favourite superhero is otherwise occupied, and all Lois can do is sit tight, hold on, and try to keep herself calm by writing fictitious reviews of her current location.
Score: 3 out of 10. The view is great, but I wouldn’t come back.
A strong gust of wind sweeps past. Lois closes her eyes tightly, and holds on like her life depends on it – because, frankly, it does.
“Hurry up, Superwoman,” she whispers to herself. “Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up…”
A throat is cleared, meaningfully, a few feet away. Lois opens her eyes, to find Superwoman hovering in front of her, looking slightly amused.
“Want some help there?”
“Oh, you know…” Lois takes a deep breath and smiles, shakily. “If you’re not too busy.”
“I’ve got a window in my schedule.”
“What about the technobot?”
Superwoman just nods in the direction of the river. Lois follows her gaze, to where the remains of a giant evil robot are smoking, half-submerged.
“Oh. Right.”
Superwoman comes in close, and Lois releases her tiny piece of railing to put her arms around Superwoman’s neck. She always feels safe doing this. Theoretically, she’s still got just as far to fall – but, in practice, buildings and planes involve actual falling, whereas the flying lady has never yet dropped her.
Superwoman scoops up Lois’s legs, and sets off at a steady pace.
“Am I allowed to ask what led to this week’s peril?”
“Just your standard reporter stuff.”
“Right.” Superwoman smiles at her, and asks, “Have you ever considered switching to a safer profession, Lois? Like the bomb squad?”
“Look who I’m talking to.”
“That’s different. I’m bulletproof. And groundproof.”
Lois has a great response to that. If she was in the bullpen right now, she’d be starting a whole thing about how a press-pass requires responsibility and a willingness to take risks. But instead she just smiles, and asks, “Want to comment on the bot fight?”
Superwoman glances at her in an amused and affectionate way that makes Lois catch her breath. “I think I’ll stay off the record until I’ve talked to the mayor.”
“Fair enough.” It was worth a shot. Lois still manages more Superwoman news than most journalists, but she hasn’t had much lately. Ever since Superwoman’s arrival from Krypton two years ago – ever since Lois landed that first exclusive interview (“My Evening with the Visitor from the Stars”) – their names have been inextricably linked. By preference, she likes to get a new interview at least every couple of months.
They arrive at Lois’s apartment, and Superwoman sets her down gently on the balcony. “Will you be alright from here?”
“Yes. Thanks – for the rescue.”
“Of course.” Superwoman touches her arm, and looks at her seriously. “Lois – be careful out there, okay? I don’t want to arrive too late next time.”
Lois nods, and Superwoman flies away – no doubt heading towards the river to debrief concerning today’s battle. In a minute Lois will retrieve her spare key from under the potted ficus, and head inside to do some serious typing, but for a few moments she stands and watches as a red cape gets further and further away.
She can still feel Superwoman’s hand on her arm.
Chapter 5: Theoretical discussions
So, there’s a possibility that Jimmy might not be delusional.
Lois takes it well. She’s pretty good at adapting to new circumstances. But she still feels like she could use some advice.
She finds Claire in the break room, stirring far too much sugar into her coffee.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.” Claire looks up. “What do you need?”
This is awkward. Lois isn’t quite sure where to start. “I… You see…”
Claire waits, patiently.
“You’re a lesbian. You understand lesbian… stuff.”
Claire pauses a moment, then raises her eyebrows. “I think I’m going to need a bit more context.”
They’re interrrupted briefly by a couple of junior reporters, chatting about their weekends while fixing coffee. Lois and Claire wait, awkwardly silent, until the others leave the break room. Then Claire leans against the countertop, sipping her coffee, and watching Lois, speculatively.
Lois crosses her arms in front of her and just dives straight in. “I’m unexpectedly interested in someone – a woman - and I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”
“What, physically?”
“No! No, that’s… It’s more that I’m not sure. I mean, I think I’m interested in her, but I’ve never really had that happen before, so I don’t know if I should be trying to pursue anything, or if I should just leave it in case I’m not actually into her after all.”
“Hmm.” Claire frowns. “Interesting.”
“So? Any thoughts?”
Claire doesn’t answer immediately, but hops up to sit on top of the counter, legs dangling down. She’s fairly tall, and never really left the gangly phase, so she takes up far too much space in this kitchenette. She takes another sip of coffee, and asks, “Has she shown any interest in you?”
“Um… maybe? She might have.”
“And you… think you’re interested in her.”
“Yes, I just said that.”
Claire grins at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ve just been working with you for two years now, and I think this might be the first time I’ve seen you not completely certain.”
Lois glares at her. “Kent, I’m being vulnerable here.”
“You’re right, sorry.” Claire grins some more, and asks, “Who are we talking about, exactly?”
She can feel her face going bright red. But, what the hell: “It’s Superwoman. I’ve got a thing for Superwoman. I think.”
Claire’s face freezes. She stares blankly forward, her brain clearly on pause.
“I know, Jimmy’s been teasing me about this for weeks, but I think there might actually be something there, so…”
Claire is still stuck, unable to form words.
“Claire? If this is uncomfortable for you, that’s okay.” Lois shifts, awkwardly. “I can get someone else to help me solve the problem.”
“No.” Claire blinks a couple of times, shakes her head, and then looks directly at Lois. “No. I’ve solved it. You should go out with her.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Of course. You two would be awesome together.” She raises an eyebrow. “Unless you have an ethical thing about dating aliens?”
“That’s not the point. What about my actual ethical dilemma? What if I go out with Superwoman, and then discover I’m actually not attracted to women, and it was all my imagination? That’s not really fair on her.”
Claire snorts with amusement. “She’s a Kryptonian demigoddess. I doubt you’re going to hurt her feelings.”
“No, but seriously…”
Claire interrupts her. “In my experience, women like that – confident, upfront – they’ll be fine with almost anything so long as you’re being honest with them. Tell her what’s going on. If Superwoman thinks dating you is a bad idea, she’ll tell you. I promise.”
Lois narrows her eyes. “You sound almost like you’re talking from personal experience, Kent.”
“Who, me?”
“Oh my god. You did, didn’t you? You hit on Superwoman!”
Claire calmly finishes her coffee. “I’m admitting nothing.”
Chapter 6: Romantic evenings
“Here we are.” Superwoman sets her down gently on the balcony.
“Thanks.” Lois decides to go for it. “Would you… like to stay for dinner?”
Superwoman raises her eyebrows, looking slightly surprised.
“I mean, it won’t be anything elaborate. Maybe Chinese take-out, or… But I’d love some company, if you have time.”
“Thank you, Lois. I’d love to.”
Their hands touch unexpectedly, reaching for fortune cookies. Lois hesitates, and then carefully, deliberately, puts her hand on Superwoman’s.
Superwoman doesn’t pull away.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Lois.”
“None of the bullets actually hit me. I’m fine. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“I’d be happier if you weren’t around bullets in the first place, but I’m glad I could help.”
“If you’ve got time later, you should fly past my place. We could have coffee.”
“For you? Absolutely.”
They’re eating fries on top of Lincoln Tower, watching the sunset.
“What was it like on Krypton?” Lois asks.
“Where I grew up?” Superwoman’s eyes get distant for a moment. Then she replies, “Lovely. Quiet. Kind of beautiful.”
“Quiet? I thought Krypton was a giant civilisation, full of people.”
“It is – but we still have rural areas. And my family’s f– our, um, estate – it has these long grassy stretches, where you can feel completely alone. I used to lie there and pretend I was the only person on the planet. Just me and the sky.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Yes, it is.” Superwoman takes another handful of fries and adds, nonchalantly, “Also, the trees are blue.”
The Mayor holds a press conference, announcing that the Monkey Theft epidemic is at an end. Superwoman stands on the stage, providing a reassuring presence.
Lois is in the audience – working solo today. (Claire is home with a stomach bug.) She asks a couple of insightful questions, and starts sketching notes on her Monkey Theft article as the Mayor answers everyone else’s less interesting questions.
As Superwoman walks past her, she greets Lois with a formal “Ms Lane,” but flashes her a tiny secret smile that is just for them. And Lois’s heart skips a beat.
They float just above the city skyline, with Superwoman’s cape wrapped around Lois for warmth. The night sky is beautiful from up here.
Lois gazes into her eyes as Superwoman – Ellara – gently leans forward and kisses her.
“And he told me I should start carrying mace. Start!” Lois is still rolling her eyes.
Ellara grins. “I take it he’s not aware of your subscription to Mace Monthly.”
“I’ve got four Pulitzers, but in the General’s eyes I’m still a clueless teenager.”
“Tell me about it. My mom is still on my case about fighting Metallo in the middle of town. Apparently I should have relocated him to somewhere less populated.”
“Your mom? She knows about that?”
Ellara frowns slightly. “Oh. Yes. I communicate with my parents regularly. With… special Kryptonian technology I have at my fortress.”
“Wow.” Lois blinks. “I had no idea.”
“Well, I’d rather that stays off the record, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
But Ellara still looks slightly bothered. Lois changes the subject, and they talk about the latest news from Gotham, instead.
They make out on Lois’s sofa – and again, after accidentally rolling off the sofa, on Lois’s carpet.
Ellara is an incredible kisser, with a knack for having her hands in the right place. Meanwhile, Lois discovers she can make an invulnerable superbeing shudder with desire.
Ellara is adamant that Metropolis has the best pizza in the US.
“Oh, come on! What about Chicago? Deep-dish pizza is amazing!”
“Deep-dish pizza is strange and wrong. There’s a reason no-one else does it.”
“You can’t just pick your food based on town loyalty. Metropolis is good at plenty of things, but it’s not always the best.”
“Of course it is! Why else do you think I moved here?”
Lois grabs another slice of pepperoni, and raises an eyebrow. “Why did you move here, anyway? To Earth, I mean.”
Ellara pauses for a minute, and then answers slowly, “I guess I just… wanted to help.”
Lois nods.
“Where I grew up, there weren’t… it wasn’t as… um… disaster-prone as around here.”
“You guys have kind of solved most of those issues, then?”
“Mmm.” Ellara takes a sip of her soda, and adds, “I also wanted to get out and explore the world. There’s so much to see around here!”
Lois laughs quietly.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just weird to think of interplanetary travel as tourism.”
“I suppose.”
Ellara looks at Lois sadly. “This isn’t going to work out.”
She seems dead serious, but Lois still can’t quite take in the words. “But–”
“I’m sorry, Lois. I really am.” She takes Lois’s hand in hers, gently, tentatively, and they link fingers as Ellara continues. “I thought I’d try, but this just doesn’t work. I can’t… I can’t be myself around you.”
It doesn’t make sense. “Things were going so well.”
Ellara looks sad – but also resolute. “I hope we can still be friends. I really do care about you.”
“Of course. Of course we’ll be friends.”
Ellara drops her hand, and takes a step back.
“Goodbye, Lois.”
And Superwoman flies away.
Chapter 7: Annoying coworkers
Lois is, unfortunately, an expert on getting dumped. That doesn’t mean she has to like it.
It is fine. Statistically, most relationships will crash and burn, and she’s learned to just enjoy the ride. And Lois is a big girl. She’ll cope. She kind of has to. After all, as long as there’s journalism in Metropolis, her level of peril isn’t going to noticeably decrease. They’re still going to run into each other regularly.
Give it a few weeks, and she’ll be absolutely over it.
Meanwhile, she’s dealing with her feelings by taking out the breakup on hapless interns. She sends them for coffee, complains about the coffee, makes them spellcheck her articles, complains when they correct words she’s pretty sure might be spelled right, and is scathingly, overwhelmingly sarcastic at them whenever they irritate her. Which is often.
Jimmy is keeping a wide berth. He has enough experience to get when Lois wants to be left alone.
Even Claire is staying out of it. Which is honestly a shame – at the moment Lois would welcome someone making snarky comments at her. It’d be a nice distraction. But Claire has been withdrawn, lately. And now that Lois is biting the head off anyone who annoys her, Claire is mostly watching, quietly, with a serious look on her face.
“New story for you, Lane.” Perry unceremoniously dumps a bunch of files on her desk. He doesn’t like email. “Get this sorted, will you?”
As is typical for Perry, the stack looks like a random assortment of unrelated information: various police reports about petty theft, a drainage inspection report, some blog posts written by a conspiracy theorist, and a newspaper clipping from thirty years ago about the opera house being refurbished. But Perry knows his stuff, which means there’s a story hidden somewhere within the chaos.
Lois starts to sort through the files.
“Anything interesting?” Claire is standing next to her desk, looking politely curious. For some reason, Lois finds this irritating.
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Silence from Claire – and Lois looks up and says flatly, “Perry’s been giving me stuff like this for years. I’m an experienced journalist; I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure you don’t…”
Lois looks at her pointedly, and asks, “Do you need something else?”
Claire hesitates. Then: “No.” And she returns to her own desk.
Lois keeps sifting through Perry’s print-outs.
Chapter 8: Fashion disasters
She’s tired. She’s cranky. She’s lost all credibility with her source, which means she’s lost her story. She’s dripping mud from head to toe. And she’s going to kill Claire Kent when she gets back to the office.
But honestly, it’s all basically Claire’s fault. Just because Lois informed her she was working on this story solo, and didn’t want any help, and was perfectly capable of creating journalistic magic all by herself – there was no reason for Claire to believe her.
Things have been strained all week. Lois has been annoyed, Claire has been quiet, and articles haven’t been writing themselves properly. Not to mention, yesterday Lois got a new lead, and was keeping it hush-hush so that she could get a decent byline for once, and then Claire went and scooped her! Took the day’s front page, without even having the decency to add “and Lois Lane” after her name.
No wonder Lois left the Planet by herself this morning.
A few yards away, Superwoman is fighting the sewer monster who just tried to drown Lois. If she was feeling more like her usual self, Lois would be trying to mentally compose a new article about this – but seriously, the sewer monster’s been making headlines for over three decades, and Superwoman’s already fought it twice, so what would be the point?
She crosses her arms and waits, already resigned to the fact that Superwoman will have to help her out of these tunnels. Which is going to be wonderfully awkward, all things considered.
The sewer monster bellows, and tries to attack again. Superwoman sends a blast of ice breath at it, closely followed by a punch, and it finally retreats, diving back into the gloop it emerged from.
Lois shifts, balancing awkwardly on a single high heel. The other one is lost, somewhere in the swamp underfoot.
“Are you okay?” Superwoman is in front of her.
“Yes, I’m fine. And…” – waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the recent fight – “thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She holds out a hand. “So… shall we?”
Lois puts her arms around Superwoman’s neck, as she’s done a hundred times before. They fly along the tunnels, and up into the open air. Then Superwoman glances at her and says, “I’ll take you home.”
Lois stiffens. “No.”
“No?”
“No. You can just drop me here.”
“But you’re…” Superwoman pauses, and says quietly, “Lois, you’re kind of filthy.”
“I’m not in danger, I’m not needing to be rescued. It’s just a little mud.”
They land, in the centre of Wilson Boulevard. Superwoman is still looking unsure. “I’d be happy to–”
“Seriously. No.” Lois glares at her. “If I’m just an ordinary rescue, you need to treat me like an ordinary rescue. You’re not a taxi service. And I’m fine.” She smiles, trying to look bright and unconcerned. Trying to maintain some dignity, even if she is dripping in sewer slime.
Superwoman hesitates, then nods. And flies away.
And now she’s late to the press conference at City Hall. Perfect.
She shows up seven minutes late, barefoot, and still muddy. And Claire’s saved her a seat – which means Lois has to walk, unconcernedly, to sit in the front row, while ignoring the sideways glances.
Claire raises an eyebrow at her, and mutters, “Okay there?”
“I’m fine.” Lois sits, stiffly upright, trying to look like she’s listening to the city’s Head of Infrastructure and whatever the hell he’s talking about.
Claire reaches into her backpack and passes Lois a notebook and pen, murmuring, “If this is ‘fine’, then you have severe issues.”
Lois glares at her. “This is just what good journalism looks like,” she says, under her breath. But she takes the notebook; hers is lost somewhere in a dark tunnel, alongside a very expensive shoe.
The Head of Infrastructure is detailing the plans for a new monorail system, that he says will “launch Metropolis into the Twentieth Century!” He’s said that three times in the last five sentences, and Lois wonders how long it’ll take him to realise that he’s about 100 years out of date. But she takes notes, and listens carefully, and by the time he wraps up she’s got a couple of decent questions ready to go. She raises her hand.
He fields questions from The Star and Metropolis Gazette, and then notices her. “Yes, Ms… Lane.” His voice trails off as he registers her appearance.
So now every reporter in the place is noticing her too, and an undercurrent of laughter ripples around the room.
Lois ignores them, and asks her question. “Is the City Council confident that this monorail project will be more successful than the original one, 17 years ago?”
He pauses a moment, and comments, “So glad you dressed up for us.” Then he starts answering her question. But Lois can’t pay attention. She can feel herself turning bright red. The two Gazette reporters across the aisle are smirking at her.
A swipe across her arm surprises her. Lois turns – and double-takes.
Claire is solemnly painting herself in mud. There is sewer slime smeared across both cheeks, her forehead and her nose. And she’s still going.
“What are you doing?”
Claire raises an eyebrow. “What? I’m just learning how to be a good journalist.” She’s trying to look serious, but her eyes are sparkling.
Lois glares at her. Claire grins back. Suddenly, they both crack up laughing – somewhat quietly – while the press conference continues around them.
And then everything’s all right again.
Chapter 9: Late-night deadlines
Six Lexcorp employees were found murdered this afternoon, two days after a whistleblower came forward about embezzlement. And now everyone’s scrambling to meet their deadlines.
The reporters covering the murders got to go home an hour ago, but it’s eleven o’clock and Lois and Claire are still paragraphs behind on the in-depth embezzling article. Lois sighs and looks blearily at her computer screen. At time like these, journalism doesn’t feel nearly as glamorous as it should.
The elevator pings, and Jimmy enters, carrying multiple pizza boxes. “Dinner delivery! I got three pies, and also soda.” He puts everything down on Lois’s desk. “And Lois, you’re going to love me: I found a place that does deep-dish.”
Lois opens the lid of the pizza box and sighs. “Jimmy, I admire and adore you.”
He turns. “Claire? Deep-dish?”
Claire shakes her head. “Deep-dish pizza is deeply weird.” She grabs a slice of margherita, instead.
Jimmy cracks open a soda, and collapses in his chair. “It’s so nice to be inside, for once! I’ve spent far too much of this week taking photos outside, and it hasn’t stopped raining for days.”
“That’s the price you pay for being a world-class photographer, Jimmy,” Lois comments around a mouthful, still typing one-handed.
“Maybe I should hire someone else to do the photos for me, so I could just stay here and edit them.” He puts his feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair. “What d’you think? Wouldn’t it be great to have a suave guy at the next desk, helping you with your deadlines? Bringing you pizza? Flirting with Lois?”
Claire looks up from her computer. “Isn’t that my job?” She flashes a quick grin at Lois, and returns to her article.
“Well, there’s that,” Jimmy concedes.
It takes Lois several seconds to realise she’s not actually reading what she’s typing. She backspaces, sheepishly.
Jimmy starts editing some shots while finishing off his soda. Lois does a few minutes of serious writing, and then sits back, narrowing her eyes at the screen. “I think this might work. Come have a look.”
Claire comes over, and leans in over Lois’s shoulder. “Hmm, good,” she says, thoughtfully. “But I’m not sure we want to accuse Lex Luthor of having run for pubic office.”
“Yes, heavens forfend we sully the pristine name of Lex Luthor.”
Claire laughs. “True.” She’s still leaning in, so close Lois can practically feel her.
“Besides, that’s just spelling.” Lois dismisses spelling with a wave of her hand. “Is the article any good?”
Claire is looking at her ruefully, over the top of her glasses. “Dear god, I hope so. Otherwise we’re never going to get home.”
She’s not wrong. Lois dutifully types in the missing L, and emails her work to the typesetters.
A good night’s sleep is all she really needs.
Chapter 10: Intriguing encounters
Here’s the thing: Lois is an expert in body language and human behaviour. It’s how she can tell when interviewees are trying to conceal the truth from her. It’s already landed her four Pulitzers. Which means there’s absolutely no way she would have missed it if Claire was actually flirting with her.
Lois orders pad Thai for lunch, and eats at her desk – somehow managing to drop noodles all over her paperwork.
She’s scraping off as much as she can – somewhat successfully – when she feels eyes on her, and looks across to Claire’s desk, where Claire is resting her chin on one hand and watching Lois with a slight smile.
“What?” Lois demands. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I just love watching you completely fail at using a fork.”
Lois leaves the room, and waits until the door is completely shut before pointing out, “I had that question in mind.”
“I’m sure you did,” Claire agrees.
“You didn’t have to jump in, Kent, just because I took my time.”
“I was happy to help.”
“Don’t start. After all, of the two of us, which is the experienced, prize-winning, senior reporter?”
Claire pauses and thinks, managing to look genuinely puzzled. Lois huffs at her and walks off, with Claire following behind, saying “Wait, I’ll get it, just give me a hint…”
Lois changes in the office restroom, and emerges ready to go, in a baby-blue dress and heels, wearing her favourite necklace.
Claire raises an eyebrow as she spots Lois. “Nice,” she says, appreciatively.
Lois feels weirdly self-conscious, but plays it cool. “Oh, I’m going to a thing. It’s for the Metropolis Zoo. It’s a fundraiser.”
Claire sits back in her chair, still looking at Lois. “Well – the zoo is very lucky.”
She’s on the phone to a source, jotting down notes as she goes.
She barely notices Claire arriving back in the bullpen, until Claire puts a muffin down on top of Lois’s keyboard. Lois pauses, mid-sentence.
Raspberry and white chocolate.
She looks across at Claire, who is settling into her chair with another muffin. Claire toasts her, muffin in hand, and then takes a mouthful.
Her source is still on the phone. Lois blinks, and restarts her sentence. “And when you last saw the Senator, what did he…”
Her life wasn’t actually in danger this time – but she still ends up covered in duck feathers, and late to meet Claire at the Main Street parade.
Claire raises an eyebrow as she takes in Lois’s appearance.
Lois rolls her eyes. “Don’t ask.”
“Never do,” Claire says. “But I would like a photo.”
Lois glares, and punches Claire on the shoulder.
“You’re going to yell at Perry.”
“I’m not.”
“You so are,” Claire says, knowingly. “The Mayor dodged your question, and now you’re going to take it out on Perry. And then you’re going to kick yourself.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Kent.”
And she is, in fact, able to completely keep her cool, for several minutes into the meeting – until Perry gives Richardson the Queen Industries interview. The one that should have been hers.
Lois is about to be extremely loud and sarcastic at the world, when she glances over to see Claire watching her speculatively over her coffee cup. Lois rolls her eyes pointedly at her, and stays silent. Perry keeps handing out assignments.
Claire just grins.
Okay, so it’s faintly possible that Claire is a gigantic flirt, and that Lois has failed to notice because her brilliant body language skills aren’t up to date with the complexities of lesbian relationships.
This whole situation requires some serious analysis.
Does she like Claire? Of course. They work well together.
Does she like-like Claire? …maybe. She’s never really considered it before, because Claire’s not her type at all. But Lois is beginning to suspect she’s positively bisexual – and maybe her sexual orientation is even flexible enough to include women who voluntarily listen to Metallica.
If this relationship crashes and burns – as is tradition – will it completely screw up Lois’s life? That’s really the only question that matters. Lois is usually willing to take a chance on dating someone, win or lose – but if she loses this, she’ll probably also lose a very nice friendship. A very important friendship.
Maybe it would be better not to take the risk.
Another day, another deadline, another evening in the bullpen alone with Claire Kent.
“Coffee?”
Claire takes the proferred mug, and smiles tiredly, eyes still on her computer screen. “Next time Livewire decides to blow up downtown, I want to be on vacation.”
“Tell me about it.” They have to cover Livewire’s hacking of the live broadcast, the initial ransom demand, the explosion, the second ransom demand, a drawn-out fight with Superwoman, and Livewire’s screaming threats of vengeance. And that’s just from today; Perry also wants a double-page spread on Livewire’s past crimes. No wonder Claire’s looking exhausted. “Maybe we should have a chat with Superwoman, and ask her to keep all the chaos at bay for a couple weeks.”
A smile. “Maybe.”
Lois leans back against Claire’s desk. “Or maybe we should ask Perry for some time off.”
“Both of us?” Claire grins at her. “How would the Planet survive?”
“Well, you’re right, it’d probably crash and burn,” Lois concedes.
“Without its prize-winning star reporter? Definitely.”
“I dunno, though.” Lois tentatively lays her hand on Claire’s. “It might be worth it.”
Claire stills.
Complete silence, stretching out between them.
Lois doesn’t speak – but slowly moves her hand until she and Claire are linking fingers.
Claire looks up at her. “Is this… just you being on the rebound?” she asks, quietly.
“I’m not even slightly on the rebound,” Lois says, firmly. She frowns and adds, “And how do you know I am, anyway?”
A wry smile. “Well, you did get a bit mopey, there.”
“I guess I did.” She’s tracing her thumb gently across the back of Claire’s hand.
Claire takes a deep breath, starts to say something – pauses. Then starts again. “I’m sorry, Lois.”
“You’re…”
“I like you – I really do.” She looks calm, yet very slightly devastated. “But I don’t think it’d work.”
This is unexpected. Damn.
Lois smiles ruefully. “So, let me guess. You knew about my breakup with Superwoman, and decided to really twist the knife by flat-out rejecting me in my vulnerable state?”
Their fingers are still entwined.
Claire raises an eyebrow, with a tentative grin. “If you want I can come burn down your apartment,” she offers.
“I’ll bear it in mind,” Lois replies.
They smile at each other, quietly.
One slight squeeze, and then Claire drops her hand.
Chapter 11: Gang-related explosions
Claire is discussing the latest news on Intergang with Richardson. She finishes making a coffee – cream, no sugar – and hands it to Lois without even pausing. Then she starts making herself a coffee, still talking to Richardson.
Lois has always wanted what she can’t have. Especially when it’s tantalisingly only a few inches out of reach.
It’s been two weeks since Lois’s failed attempt at getting a date. Two weeks, and Claire’s behaviour hasn’t really changed at all. Lois, meanwhile, has never been more conscious of Claire’s presence. No matter how much she tells herself that Claire is not an option, Lois still keeps on accidentally glancing across to Claire’s desk; listening for Claire’s voice joining in on office conversations; noticing every time Claire leaves her seat and every time she returns.
Now, as she leaves the break room, Lois flashes a slight thanks-for-the-coffee smile at Claire, and is acknowledged with a friendly nod. And somehow this is enough to make Lois feel flushed and slightly self-conscious all the way back to her desk.
As she settles in at her computer, Jimmy messages her phone. Repeatedly.
- At cent plaz
- Saw this guy
- [photo]
- Michael Fazznio, y/n?
- In bldg 324, meeting w/ppl
- HURRY UP
He’s not wrong. If Fazznio is genuinely in Metropolis, and meeting with people at Central Plaza (home to most of the dodgy businessmen she knows), there’s definitely a story brewing. Lois grabs her bag, and yells for Claire as she races to catch the elevator.
…which, long story short, is how Lois ends up handcuffed to Claire, sitting back-to-back on either side of a steel beam, while the mobsters activate a home-made detonator leading to an even-more-home-made bomb, and leave the factory.
“Okay there, Lois?”
“Yep. Fine. Hurry up and pick the cuffs.”
(Why, yes. They have done this before.)
“Got them!”
They spring up, and run – Lois heads for the door to the stairwell, and it swings closed behind her just as she hears the explosion. She crouches, head under arms, braced for anything that might fall on her, but somehow the stairwell stays intact.
“Lois!” calls Claire from behind her.
She turns. No, it’s not Claire – it’s Superwoman.
“We need to get you out of here.” Superwoman grabs her, swiftly, and flies upward – punching through the ceiling like it’s not even there.
They land, fast, and Lois turns to see that the factory is on fire, and collapsing in on itself. She grabs Superwoman’s arm. “Claire! Claire is in there!”
“I’ll get her.” Superwoman takes off again, plunging into the factory with incredible speed.
Lois stands, tense and helpless, watching the fire. Then – “Lois!” – Claire emerges from the laneway, sooty, with her glasses askew. She smiles in relief at Lois, and walks over to her, slowly.
“Where’s Superwoman?”
“I think she’s gone back into the factory, to check for more people,” Claire replies. She rights her glasses, and looks at Lois with concern. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Lois nods. “But we should probably go call the police. And the fire department.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I wonder how Superwoman knew to come.”
“Mmm.”
As they go in search of a phone, a new idea strikes Lois, completely out of the blue. After all, she’s a prize-winning journalist. She’s not stupid.
Chapter 12: Implausible theories
The first rule of reporting is simple: figure out what you know.
Lois draws up a list with two columns. “Claire” on the left; “Superwoman” on the right. And she writes down, randomly, every single fact she knows about them, in the order it occurs to her.
Claire likes hokey festivals.
Superwoman is from outer-space.
Claire is from Kansas.
Superwoman likes pizza.
Claire has a sweet-tooth.
Superwoman is a great kisser.
Claire has a journalism degree.
Superwoman lives in an ice fortress.
It goes on and on, until she’s filled the whole page. Then she sits back, and reads it all, item by item. And then, slowly, methodically, she picks up a sharpie and scrawls BLATANT LIES across Superwoman’s column.
Then she sits and thinks some more.
It can’t be true, surely.
Lois has a working theory – but it’s an insane working theory, without a single piece of proof. So she spends the next few weeks waiting, watching for anything to confirm or deny her suspicions.
The clothes would make sense. The ponytail would make sense. The timeline almost fits (with some leeway given, assuming more lies). And that laugh, now that she’s listening for it, is far too obvious. It’s a lovely laugh, low and full, and wonderfully familiar – Lois has heard it dozens of times before – but now it’s coming from the wrong person.
During the next shuttle launch crisis, instead of hovering around the TV with the rest of the bullpen, Lois spends the time systematically checking the break room, the restrooms, the supply closets, the elevator – and finding nothing. And when she hears everyone start cheering that Superwoman’s saved the day, Lois closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, because she finally knows for sure.
Three days later, Barrage is holding her hostage (again) on top of City Hall. And, naturally, Superwoman captures him and flies him down to give into police custody. Lois knows damn well that there’s no way off this roof (except with a key she doesn’t have), so she sits down on an air vent, feeling cranky.
“Let’s get you down, shall we?”
She looks up. Superwoman is back.
“Uh-huh.”
Superwoman picks her up, and flies. “Is everything okay, Lois?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Superwoman looks at her, with her brow furrowed. “You seem… upset.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
They fly on. Not towards the ground, but across the city, and Lois realises that Superwoman is delivering her home.
“It’s just that I’ve been working on this story for days, all by myself, and now I’m going to feel obligated to share my byline with you.”
Superwoman smiles at her. “That would be funny.”
“No. No it wouldn’t. You’ve already had five great headlines this month, and Barrage’s Intergang connection was mine.”
Superwoman looks uncertain. “Lois–”
“I know, saving my life is pretty awesome. But it’s also your job, at least sort of. And so help me, Kent, if you scoop me again we are gonna throw down.”
They fly in silence for nearly a minute. And then Superwoman finally regains her voice. “Oh.”
Lois rolls her eyes. “Yes. Oh.”
They land on her balcony, and Superwoman crosses her arms, looking more awkward than Lois has ever seen her before. “Um… How long have you known? Exactly?”
“Not very long.”
Superwoman nods, still looking uncomfortable. Lois watches her for a few seconds before taking pity on her.
She raises an eyebrow. “So, now that’s settled…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you can get over yourself, and go out with me?”
Superwoman looks absolutely flummoxed. Lois just grins.
Slowly, tentatively, Claire smiles. And throws her a look that’s positively Claireish, even without the glasses. “Yes.” She puts her arms around Lois’s waist and draws her gently in. “Yes, I think I can.”
no subject
Date: 2024-06-18 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-06-18 12:14 pm (UTC)