Smallville fic: Exposé (Clark/Lois)
Oct. 29th, 2008 08:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Exposé
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,503
Timeline: Season eight
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Lois
Summary: When everyone finds out, the question becomes “how come I’m the last?”
Lois wondered how long she could stare at a blank screen. Well, not entirely blank. She had her headline mostly written. ‘Clark Kent is Superhero.’ Now and then she rewrote it to pretend at a breakthrough. Clark Kent is super. Clark Kent is hero. Presently she was stuck at ‘Clark Kent is Superh’ with no way out.
How could she have missed it? He’d been right under her nose, the biggest story of her life… not just a superhero, but one who did it with no thought of reward or glory or… and she hadn’t seen him behind cuddly ol’ Clark Kent!
Lois Lane was finally struck for words. She turned off the computer, erasing those incriminating words from view. If only the truth could go away so easily. She grabbed her purse and went to the one place she knew Clark would be.
***
It hadn’t take much. Just one little photo of Clark lifting a car, blurry as hell. Evening news. Then the flood of eyewitness reports, people once too grateful to talk, but now eager for their slice of fifteen minutes.
The Isis Foundation had been built to Lana’s paranoid specifications as a fortress. It finally lived up to that now. Clark’s unmasking had been anything but unifying. Those who shared Lex’s old xenophobia clashed with Clark’s supporters, both sides shouting slogans with a religious fervor. As Clark’s form cometed from rooftop to rooftop, returning home, Lois heard both cheers and catcalls of “we don’t want you here! We never asked for your help!”
She slipped under a sawhorse behind a policeman’s back and slipped inside. In the lobby, John Jones and his men were standing guard, but mostly fielding complaints from other tenants of the building. A bomb-sniffing dog smelled its way through the mail Clark was receiving. Lois was pleased that some of it was flowers; until she wondered how much of it had to do with Clark being a hero and how much with him looking like Bruce Wayne’s more attractive cousin.
“Hold it!” Jones called. “Are you on the list?”
“I’m Chloe Sullivan’s cousin,” she replied, trying to put just enough sass in it for him to believe she was expected, but not enough to be offended.
She failed. “We’ve had two brothers, three sisters, four fathers, and one granny .Tell me you at least have the same last name on your ID.”
Lois threw all her sass into her next words. “I have her cell-phone number, how’s that?” She held the 2 on the touch-pad until Chloe picked up. “Hey, cous, I’m down here on the ground floor and you won’t believe—“
Chloe wasn’t in any mood for family togetherness. “Do you have a tape recorder?”
“I always have a tape recorder.”
Chloe hung up. Lois dialed her again while smiling at Jones. “Bad connection.” She tossed her tape recorder to him as Chloe finally picked up. “I’m here as a friend, not as a reporter.”
“Just so long as you’re not trying to be both.”
Jones’s radio crackled, and after he listened to it, he let Lois up.
***
Isis was an oasis of sanity, aside from the haggard Chloe that greeted her. She was holding a box of letters. “If you could get him to take a look at this, it’d be great.”
Lois took it and set it down on a couch. “What is it?”
“Fan mail. Might put the mojo back in his… po-go? I’m tired.”
“If you go to sleep, I promise not to let the boogeyman get you.”
Chloe smiled weakly. “But I just put on a pot of coffee…”
“I won’t let it go to waste. Bed. Count sheep. Sleep. Dream of tastefully nude paramedics.”
Chloe shuffled toward the guest bedroom for wayward meteor-gifted, where she collapsed headlong into a bed.
Lois took off Chloe’s shoes and then walked into the Isis secret computer room that everyone knew about. Clark sat there with a police blotter. He hadn’t washed off the soot of a fire he’d stopped earlier, making it look like he’d slain some black-blooded monster. In fact, from his stubble, he’d only left to save people (the worst were those who’d staged an incident just to shove a microphone in his face. John and the police were hitting those bastards hard, but if one persons died as part of a publicity stunt…)
“So, how was your weekend?” Lois asked.
“I’m sorry I lied,” he said earnestly.
She slunk down into an empty chair. “How many people do you plan on saying that too?”
“Have to start somewhere.” He tuned one of the computers running a police radio, but there was still no broadcasts.
“I don’t suppose as superhuman strongman with a thing about injustice is driving the crime rate down,” she cheer-led.
He spun his chair to face her. “You think the riot brewing outside will send it back up?”
“All those people sending you love letters don’t think that way; you shouldn’t either. Hey, anyone send you chocolate?”
“Probably poisoned.”
“For a superhero, you’re a real pessimist.” She took some wet naps from her purse and started washing his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”
”See what?”
Lois rolled her eyes. “You! You’re the best thing that’s happened to this city in a real long time” (not to mention the biggest story) “and I was fooled by that farmboy act.”
”I am a farmboy” he muttered bashfully.
“And so much more.” She wiped the last trace of ash from the cleft of his chin. “Not that just being a farmboy is bad, when it’s set off by being nice and sweet and having amazing cheekbones that… why am I still touching you?” She threw the wet nap away.
Clark was okay with changing the subject. “If there’s not enough to do in Metropolis… I’m starting to hear things in other states when I listen hard…”
Lois laughed. “See! That! You’ve ended crime in Metropolis and now you’re worried about the tristate area! Do you have any idea how many people in your position would just use their powers to make money and get laid?”
Clark glanced at her when she mentioned sex, then hurriedly busied himself with the emergency bands again. “Well, I have been offered some endorsement deals…”
“Take ‘em. You’ve earned it. And if you ever need someone to talk to…” Lois patted Clark’s shoulder. “Chloe is a great listener.”
“Thanks, Lois.”
“And your mom always loves to hear from you.”
“How can one person be so caring?”
“Ollie can probably sympathize, since he’s a superhero too.”
“I’m gonna just gonna go make sure no one’s breaking the law.” Clark grabbed his red jacket. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, there is actually. Remember that time I thought Ollie was the Green Arrow, which I was right about by the way, but then him and someone dressed as the other him were in the same place at the same time?”
“Bizarrely, I think so.”
“And Robin Man-Ho kissed me. So who was that mysterious, masked man… Smallville?”
Clark didn’t take the bait of pointing out that was slightly the exact opposite of what had really happened. “Ollie does have a whole league of superheroes.”
“Yeah, I’m real sure it was AC,” Lois sarcasmed.
“Why, was AC better than this… as-yet-unidentified Green Arrow stand-in?”
Lois smirked at him, like she did every time he was a bumbling newbie and she was Lois Lane. Then her smirk turned into a full-on smile. She celebrated by giving him the kind of kiss that never stopped at being just a kiss. Almost never.
“No. He was a cold fish.” And I know exactly what to write for my article. “See you around the galaxy, Clark.”
“I’ll see you first.” He tapped his left eye. “X-ray vision.”
“And me without my lead underwear…” She straightened the lapels of his jacket, then pressed them flat against his chest. “And you can talk to me.”
“On the record?”
Lois flipped her hair. “Whatever works.” She might’ve swept her hips just a bit more than necessary on the way out. She really wanted to know what it felt like to be X-rayed. “Don’t work too hard, Superman.”
“Superman?” His brow furrowed. “Little Nietzschean, don’t you think?”
“Hence the irony. As far as philosophers go, you’re way more Yogi Berra.”
“Hey!” There was a blur, a whip-crack of a breeze, and he was in front of her. She walked right into him and he abruptly forgot to be annoyed with her when she looked up at him. “You wanna come with?”
“Come with you?” she repeated, before wishing she could go some place quiet and dash her head against a very hard wall. Why couldn’t Ollie be the one to turn her into a total spaz by looking at her? Was that a superpower?
“On a jump. I’ve been dying to show someone… Chloe gets nauseous.”
Article. Puppy dog eyes. Article. Puppy dog eyes. Lois hated tough choices.
“Rain check?”
“It’s a date.”
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,503
Timeline: Season eight
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Lois
Summary: When everyone finds out, the question becomes “how come I’m the last?”
Lois wondered how long she could stare at a blank screen. Well, not entirely blank. She had her headline mostly written. ‘Clark Kent is Superhero.’ Now and then she rewrote it to pretend at a breakthrough. Clark Kent is super. Clark Kent is hero. Presently she was stuck at ‘Clark Kent is Superh’ with no way out.
How could she have missed it? He’d been right under her nose, the biggest story of her life… not just a superhero, but one who did it with no thought of reward or glory or… and she hadn’t seen him behind cuddly ol’ Clark Kent!
Lois Lane was finally struck for words. She turned off the computer, erasing those incriminating words from view. If only the truth could go away so easily. She grabbed her purse and went to the one place she knew Clark would be.
***
It hadn’t take much. Just one little photo of Clark lifting a car, blurry as hell. Evening news. Then the flood of eyewitness reports, people once too grateful to talk, but now eager for their slice of fifteen minutes.
The Isis Foundation had been built to Lana’s paranoid specifications as a fortress. It finally lived up to that now. Clark’s unmasking had been anything but unifying. Those who shared Lex’s old xenophobia clashed with Clark’s supporters, both sides shouting slogans with a religious fervor. As Clark’s form cometed from rooftop to rooftop, returning home, Lois heard both cheers and catcalls of “we don’t want you here! We never asked for your help!”
She slipped under a sawhorse behind a policeman’s back and slipped inside. In the lobby, John Jones and his men were standing guard, but mostly fielding complaints from other tenants of the building. A bomb-sniffing dog smelled its way through the mail Clark was receiving. Lois was pleased that some of it was flowers; until she wondered how much of it had to do with Clark being a hero and how much with him looking like Bruce Wayne’s more attractive cousin.
“Hold it!” Jones called. “Are you on the list?”
“I’m Chloe Sullivan’s cousin,” she replied, trying to put just enough sass in it for him to believe she was expected, but not enough to be offended.
She failed. “We’ve had two brothers, three sisters, four fathers, and one granny .Tell me you at least have the same last name on your ID.”
Lois threw all her sass into her next words. “I have her cell-phone number, how’s that?” She held the 2 on the touch-pad until Chloe picked up. “Hey, cous, I’m down here on the ground floor and you won’t believe—“
Chloe wasn’t in any mood for family togetherness. “Do you have a tape recorder?”
“I always have a tape recorder.”
Chloe hung up. Lois dialed her again while smiling at Jones. “Bad connection.” She tossed her tape recorder to him as Chloe finally picked up. “I’m here as a friend, not as a reporter.”
“Just so long as you’re not trying to be both.”
Jones’s radio crackled, and after he listened to it, he let Lois up.
***
Isis was an oasis of sanity, aside from the haggard Chloe that greeted her. She was holding a box of letters. “If you could get him to take a look at this, it’d be great.”
Lois took it and set it down on a couch. “What is it?”
“Fan mail. Might put the mojo back in his… po-go? I’m tired.”
“If you go to sleep, I promise not to let the boogeyman get you.”
Chloe smiled weakly. “But I just put on a pot of coffee…”
“I won’t let it go to waste. Bed. Count sheep. Sleep. Dream of tastefully nude paramedics.”
Chloe shuffled toward the guest bedroom for wayward meteor-gifted, where she collapsed headlong into a bed.
Lois took off Chloe’s shoes and then walked into the Isis secret computer room that everyone knew about. Clark sat there with a police blotter. He hadn’t washed off the soot of a fire he’d stopped earlier, making it look like he’d slain some black-blooded monster. In fact, from his stubble, he’d only left to save people (the worst were those who’d staged an incident just to shove a microphone in his face. John and the police were hitting those bastards hard, but if one persons died as part of a publicity stunt…)
“So, how was your weekend?” Lois asked.
“I’m sorry I lied,” he said earnestly.
She slunk down into an empty chair. “How many people do you plan on saying that too?”
“Have to start somewhere.” He tuned one of the computers running a police radio, but there was still no broadcasts.
“I don’t suppose as superhuman strongman with a thing about injustice is driving the crime rate down,” she cheer-led.
He spun his chair to face her. “You think the riot brewing outside will send it back up?”
“All those people sending you love letters don’t think that way; you shouldn’t either. Hey, anyone send you chocolate?”
“Probably poisoned.”
“For a superhero, you’re a real pessimist.” She took some wet naps from her purse and started washing his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”
”See what?”
Lois rolled her eyes. “You! You’re the best thing that’s happened to this city in a real long time” (not to mention the biggest story) “and I was fooled by that farmboy act.”
”I am a farmboy” he muttered bashfully.
“And so much more.” She wiped the last trace of ash from the cleft of his chin. “Not that just being a farmboy is bad, when it’s set off by being nice and sweet and having amazing cheekbones that… why am I still touching you?” She threw the wet nap away.
Clark was okay with changing the subject. “If there’s not enough to do in Metropolis… I’m starting to hear things in other states when I listen hard…”
Lois laughed. “See! That! You’ve ended crime in Metropolis and now you’re worried about the tristate area! Do you have any idea how many people in your position would just use their powers to make money and get laid?”
Clark glanced at her when she mentioned sex, then hurriedly busied himself with the emergency bands again. “Well, I have been offered some endorsement deals…”
“Take ‘em. You’ve earned it. And if you ever need someone to talk to…” Lois patted Clark’s shoulder. “Chloe is a great listener.”
“Thanks, Lois.”
“And your mom always loves to hear from you.”
“How can one person be so caring?”
“Ollie can probably sympathize, since he’s a superhero too.”
“I’m gonna just gonna go make sure no one’s breaking the law.” Clark grabbed his red jacket. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, there is actually. Remember that time I thought Ollie was the Green Arrow, which I was right about by the way, but then him and someone dressed as the other him were in the same place at the same time?”
“Bizarrely, I think so.”
“And Robin Man-Ho kissed me. So who was that mysterious, masked man… Smallville?”
Clark didn’t take the bait of pointing out that was slightly the exact opposite of what had really happened. “Ollie does have a whole league of superheroes.”
“Yeah, I’m real sure it was AC,” Lois sarcasmed.
“Why, was AC better than this… as-yet-unidentified Green Arrow stand-in?”
Lois smirked at him, like she did every time he was a bumbling newbie and she was Lois Lane. Then her smirk turned into a full-on smile. She celebrated by giving him the kind of kiss that never stopped at being just a kiss. Almost never.
“No. He was a cold fish.” And I know exactly what to write for my article. “See you around the galaxy, Clark.”
“I’ll see you first.” He tapped his left eye. “X-ray vision.”
“And me without my lead underwear…” She straightened the lapels of his jacket, then pressed them flat against his chest. “And you can talk to me.”
“On the record?”
Lois flipped her hair. “Whatever works.” She might’ve swept her hips just a bit more than necessary on the way out. She really wanted to know what it felt like to be X-rayed. “Don’t work too hard, Superman.”
“Superman?” His brow furrowed. “Little Nietzschean, don’t you think?”
“Hence the irony. As far as philosophers go, you’re way more Yogi Berra.”
“Hey!” There was a blur, a whip-crack of a breeze, and he was in front of her. She walked right into him and he abruptly forgot to be annoyed with her when she looked up at him. “You wanna come with?”
“Come with you?” she repeated, before wishing she could go some place quiet and dash her head against a very hard wall. Why couldn’t Ollie be the one to turn her into a total spaz by looking at her? Was that a superpower?
“On a jump. I’ve been dying to show someone… Chloe gets nauseous.”
Article. Puppy dog eyes. Article. Puppy dog eyes. Lois hated tough choices.
“Rain check?”
“It’s a date.”
