loml
Request/ he's the love loss of your life, until he starts showing up to tie your shoes.
Clark Kent x Female Reader
Word Count: 9.4K a long one. This part 1 of 2.
Content: Angst/fluff. Talk of sexual activities. High school sweethearts who break up and loose contact until you meet Superman and you know. Angst. TW: Parent death, reader's mom dies. Readers is an art girl with a gallery. Clark is a wuss.
A/N: My longest piece yet. Been toying around with it, feel like it could be good since anon had such like a straight vision for it. I may have tweaked some things, but I loved the idea and took my time with it. Preparing for my move to Scotland, really nervous (2 months and i don't have my visa yet lol). Football mode is on; all colonizer teams shall fall and Argentina. Anyways, thank you for taking the time to read my work, I really really appreciate it. Love always, mani.
You didn’t think you’d get used to it so quickly, but you did. You had a bodega guy (with a bodega cat you gave churu to), a cordial friendship with your neighbour and his sweet daughter, you’d learn to read the weather before getting ready for the day and which cracks to avoid to not get your heels stuck or splash your outfit. Your dog was already a usual at the doggy daycare, and you could share some knowing smiles with other people at the dog park you already kind of knew. And it had been just over a month since you arrived here. Consider yourself pleased.
Which is why it was such a big surprise that after drinks you got with your nice coworkers you had managed to get yourself just a tiny bit lost. Well, not a tiny bit. You truly had no fucking clue where you were and if your mama had taught you something, it was that when in a dark alleyway or a street that looked iffy, never take your phone out or look lost. It was like catnip to a cat, a girl with no clue what she was getting into. At least you were wearing comfortable shoes that wouldn’t stop you from running. And c’mon, you were street smart.
The night wasn’t too cold either and you could swear that specific bar you’d seen before, so you couldn’t be too far. You moved to Metropolis for a work opportunity that was once in a lifetime. You sent your resume in as you scrolled through Linkedin looking for anything else than where you were right now. You never thought you’d get it, but they called you back and with one interview, offered you the job. You were already looking for a change, tired of the same married coworker flirting, tired of the bus route that always seemed to run late. Tired of the way your apartment never seemed to have hot water. So, you made the change. Metropolis already seemed nice enough, your job had more benefits and a nicer workplace. Which was saying something, because in your opinion you had chosen a stupid work path. You liked painting in middle school, loved it in high school and it broke your heart to choose a Marketing major over the art history one you so dearly wanted. But you knew it was dead end, so marketing it was.
Your father noticed halfway through your university career you were miserable. You hated management, the classes where they’d teach you not to scam people and some of the students seemed shocked to hear it. You hated the frat parties and the admittedly beautiful, buff man that took you to bed, got themselves off and then patted their own backs for a job well done before falling asleep on top of you. You craved something more. Your highlight was the fact that you still lived near home and took electives of art that genuinely seemed to brighten your day. You’d spend your weekends locked in your room painting and watching football with your brother and dad before they said something. Your dad encouraged you to switch your major, said he’d support you if you needed as long as you were happy. He said your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to live a life you didn’t want (manipulating fuck). He was right though. You really hadn’t felt so on autopilot since those three months after your mother died and the time after Clark broke up with you (oh, let’s not get into that). So, you switched your majors, graduated and became an art gallery manager.
In your train of thought, you didn’t realize you had just run into something you really shouldn’t have. A group of kids, young and dumb, were trying to rob a store with bats, knifes and audacity. You stayed still as you watched them notice you, look at each other before one of the pointed a knife to you. You rolled your eyes, put your hands up and walked closer to them.
“I’m not a snitch.”
“We didn’t fucking ask you.” Wow. Mean. Sounds meaner when it comes from people who had reached puberty a couple years ago. The taller one grabbed you by the shoulder and pressed a blade into your arm, uncovered because you were a moron and picked a strappy top. It wasn’t much sharp or intimidating, but you still knew that any move would cut you and ruin your pale blue heels with blood. You looked up at the sky as you heard a big swoosh, eyebrows rising as something, or someone, fell onto the pavement in front of you and scared the shit out of everyone, causing the boy’s hand to shake and the blade to pierce you like you were an unbaked sourdough.
“Oh my God, ma’am, I am so sorry.” The kid reacted as soon as he saw what he had done, dropping the knife and putting his hands up in surrender. Superman was here; nothing could be done. The owner of the store walked back inside and locked the door like it was all over and the other kids ran. Superman. Right. You had heard about the mythical creature before, Metropolis saviours. The handsome bachelor with a heart of gold and fists of steel. Right now, he didn’t look like a mythical creature, though. He was someone you knew all too well.
“Kid, you know better. Look, this is what happens when you play with fire. Someone gets burned.” Superman’s voice rang loud and clear as he looked down at the boy who nodded and gulped, realizing it had gone too far and waited for Superman to give him the go ahead. Superman looked at your bleeding arm before your face. When he was checking the wound and how bad it was, he squinted as if the simple vision of your skin colour, the singular freckle on your hand had transported him somewhere else. His breath hitched and he looked up at you. It was you, the same frown and disappointed look you had always had. You still had your father’s eyes and your mother’s nose. The same lips that kissed him for the first time ever under the bleachers after a football game. The same chin he’d hold softly between his fingers and wipe because you always got paint on it somehow. It was the same hand that he’d hold while walking you home, sometimes while doing chores and you giggled as he tickled your palm while picking up hay.
And you knew those eyes, that fallen curl on his forehead. That nervous look like when you’d ask him how the fuck he got here so fast or stare at him like you knew he was hiding something. The Adam’s apple you kissed so many times trying to get him to relax and let you in. The neck you held when you let him in for the first time, so painful and magical you would’ve never known you two would break up in two days. It was Clark fucking Kent. It was as clear as day.
“Uh- m’am, are you okay?” The kid asked you, still shaking in fear. You turned to him and nodded.
“Just… make better decisions and go.” He nodded and ran in the direction his friends had just minutes before. Clark, or Superman, was still quiet and fearful like he’d seen a ghost. Like you were gonna bite. You would have a couple of years ago, when you were still so mad at him. It took you a very long time and some sessions a therapist, but it was just something you tried to make peace with. Between other relationships you’d realized humans were too complex and not always meaning to harm, even if they still did. You tried to understand why Clark swore he loved you but still refused to stop hiding from you. Why he didn’t show up to your art show senior year and swore he had a really good excuse but refused to tell you what it was. How he swore he was breaking up with you just because he loved you and could see you weren’t happy with him, you didn’t trust him. You gave him your virginity two days prior. How could he say that? You agreed to break up though because he was still sort of right, you didn’t trust him, you weren’t happy. He was still nice afterwards. If he was getting with other girls, you never found out. He said he’d always be there for you and he was, he was at the mass of your mother’s passing two-year commemoration. He gifted you a beautiful necklace for your eighteenth birthday. He went to say goodbye to your house the day he left for college.
But here he was, happy and well and with another identity where he had superpowers. Fuck, that explained a lot, actually. How he didn’t bruise, how insistent his parents were about him ‘controlling himself’ (you thought it was about sexual urges and were confused they bought it up because Clark was almost too much of a gentleman). How he was always hiding, acting like he was battling something he wouldn’t tell you.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier. There was traffic.”
“In the sky?” He chuckled once, putting his hands at his hips.
“There was a traffic jam because of a pothole and I fixed it.” You nodded, still confused. Was he going to pretend you couldn’t tell?
“Are you okay? It’s sort of bleeding a lot but it’s pretty superficial. There’s an emergency room not too-“
“I’m fine. Just ruined my shoes. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you sure, miss?” Miss. So this is what it was going to be.
“Yeah, thanks, uh-“
“Superman.” He responded like that was his name, a hand on his chest.
“That’s what your parents named you?” You asked, still holding the wound pressed hard to avoid any more bleeding.
“Uh, no, m’am. That just kind of caught on. I’m Kal-el.” You nodded, somehow surprised he was being sort of honest. That’s what you had read his name was.
“Do you need any help?” He motioned to your hands, and you sighed.
“Yes, can you just grab my phone out of my bag and help me get my address on google maps?” He nodded and did as told, picking up your phone and letting you unlock it with your face. He looked the background picture; it was your mother holding you and your brother when she wasn’t sick and was still full of life. He remembered her like that, cheery and so kind. He remembered everything from those months too, your father’s numbness, your brother’s confusion, you taking care of everything. Clark shook the thoughts away, opened google maps and pressed the ‘home’ button, quickly mapping out that you were indeed not too far. Just somehow on the other way from where you started.
“Do you want me to walk with you? You never know… they could come back.”
“I don’t think they will, you scared the living shit out of them. But yes, that’s fine.” He nodded with a laugh and led the way to your apartment.
“So, are you new around here?” Superman asked, watching you out of the corner of his eye and inevitably smiled. It felt weird to see you. He had spent so much time just looking at old pictures and holding onto memories. He had great memory, so it wasn’t a problem. But he’d searched for you on social media, asked his parents and no one seemed to know much. You didn’t have an Instagram and weren’t seen around town since your brother went off to college.
“Yeah, just moved here a month ago.” You didn’t look up, you couldn’t look at him anymore without being so confused at the fact he thought you didn’t know.
“Oh, and how are you liking it?”
“Well, it had been fine till I sort of got stabbed.” You motioned to the arm you were still pressing to avoid getting more blood all over yourself, it seemed like it had stopped though, so you removed your palm. You looked down at your bloodied palm, resisting the urge to wipe it against yourself.
“Here, sorry.” Superman offered his cape to help you get rid of mini puddle on your hand. You sighed and wiped it as you held onto it carefully, looking at the soft confection and wondering why the hell he landed on a cape. You let it go when your hand felt usable again and noticed your apartment building, fast enough for you to feel like an utter buffoon for getting lost.
“Okay, thank you, uh Superman, Kal-el.”
“I didn’t do anything much, miss.” He said, looking at you with an indescribable look. His head twisted to the side just a little, you barely noticed, as he looked into your eyes trying to decipher what you were thinking. What you were feeling. What he was feeling. You gulped nervously, antsy under his stare.
“I’m gonna head up.”
“Right, yes, absolutely. Have a good evening, take care of that. And yourself.” He pointed his finger to your arm and then a circle around all your body like giving instructions. You nodded and turned around quickly before you fainted from the way your heart was beating and your face was burning. Not only was it a weird night in general, but seeing Clark in person when he had existed as a figment of your imagination for so long was completely uprooting. He lived in your head; you didn’t mention him other than when people asked how many boyfriends you’d had or shared a funny story that included him. Like when you had driven the tractor over his foot when he was teaching you how to use it or when his parents almost caught you in his room real late at night and you jumped out of the window with your bra in your hands and hid behind a cow when Johnathan came out to inspect the weird noise they heard. You mentioned him as your high school boyfriend, but his name never came out. It didn’t even come out tonight, but it sort of wasn’t supposed to be him. He thought you didn’t know and you allowed it.
As you put your hair up with a pen and kept hammering the nail, your mind drifted to what happened four days ago again. Clark was Superman, he was Kal-el. And he thought you couldn’t tell. He thought you could mistake his eyes for someone else’s. You didn’t know if its offensive or Clark was too naïve. Your headphones were on, the gallery was closed for lunch break, but you took the time to fix a falling decoration because you were your own handyman, your father was a farm man who taught you the same things as your brother. You weren’t noticing the outside world, didn’t hear the shatter of the glass on the gallery and didn’t feel the sudden gust of wind of someone with a stupid bowl cut crashing right into the space. You just placed the following nail between your lips and turned around to see some creature-pseudo machine. You yelped, held onto the hammer with more strength and threw it bullseyes into the creature’s chest, the claw landing and logged into the insides, creating a short circuit. It fell back onto the floor, the man who had crashed into the building standing up.
“Lady, what the hell?” He yelled and you finally removed your headphones amongst the noise.
“What?”
“How didn’t you hear? How did you do that?” He was out of breath; you immediately moved towards the window.
“You broke the glass! Do you know how much effort the pieces inside here take and you could’ve damaged them. What even is this?” You yelled, kicking off your heels to step closer to the mess made without tumbling on them. You inspected the big sculpture at the entrance and checked for damage.
“Guy! All good?” Someone flew into the gallery through the broken window, head turning towards you the second he arrived. You were too pissed to look up, frowning as you took your sweater off to wipe away the shards that were on top of it.
“Yeah. I- landed here and this lady threw a hammer at it. It worked.” You finally looked up, seeing Clark-no, Kal-el, standing in front of you looking confused. Guy walked towards you too, watching you standing on your tiptoes to avoid stepping on the glass.
“What- hi, are you alright?”
“Fine. Your friend broke my glass. He could’ve ruined this piece.” You said, too mad to react at the fact that you had somehow summoned Clark by thinking of him, in the worst possible way. He nodded, lips pursed together.
“I’m sorry, okay? Not on purpose. How did you aim that?” Green lantern questioned you again, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Was an axe thrower in high school.” You mumbled, mainly at Guy because Clark knew you were an axe thrower in high school, he had to lock himself into the house to not run towards you and pull you out of the way every time it bounced back while you learned. He watched from the window with a clenched jaw, letting your little brother practice boxing on him meanwhile. He was terrified of showing you his powers, but even more of you getting hurt so he knew when it came to it there was nothing that could stop him. You never did though, always moved in time even when wearing the stupidest outfit while doing it, jean shorts and sinful white blouses, another reason Clark had to cage himself in. You joked you would die pretty if you fucked up, making him roll his eyes and do an x-ray into your head to check if you were actually insane.
“I’m sorry about the mess, ma’am. Is the piece okay?” Superman asked, carefully stepping towards you. You nodded with a frown, watching him move closer to you and wrap one hand around your waist to pull you up from the mess. You said nothing, let his hand basically scorn the skin. You hadn’t felt his touch in ages, it didn’t feel any different, though. It was still gentle with a little too much strength, his hands were still warm and jagged. He put you down where there were no glass shards on the floor.
“Seems you can handle yourself, miss. So, I’m going to take this and go.” Guy said, removing your hammer from the machine and handing it back to you. He took the machine and dragged it out your gallery.
“He sucks.”
“Yeah, he’s… not the best.” Kal-el responded, hands on his hips like he needed them steady somewhere. He wasn’t expecting to see you again, not after the had mapped out the area around your apartment and kept a watchful eye on it but had not seen you around. He had been shocked and quiet the rest of that evening, never expecting to see you in Metropolis. You always said big cities made you sick, too many people and trash. You were also never keen on being far from your family.
“Um, I can help you clean this up and I’m sure you’ll need insurance, I can like keep an eye on it at night.” There was your mumbling, eager to please Clark. Who offered teachers help, who did the dishes without being told to do so. The man you first loved had kept himself a secret for who knows how long, you didn’t know why or how. But there were things that were real. His kindness was one of those.
“It’s fine, I’ll just call the owner. We have great insurance and it’s early, he’ll get someone here by the end of the day.” You sighed, ready to call up your co-workers from their lunch break to get help cleaning this up.
“Okay, yeah. Sorry again. How’s your arm?” He pointed to the place where the cut had been, now mostly healed.
“It’s fine. Didn’t think you’d remember.” You glanced at him as you put your heels back on, looking for your phone on the counter and fully taking off the headphones.
“I remember everything.” Superman said in a voice too low to be his regular regal and professional tone. Because he was sort of saying it to himself too. He did. He remembered every second with you, from the time they first met in middle school, to the last time he saw you, around Christmas of your freshman year of college. You both came home and he went by to your house to drop of a present, a brand-new set of really fancy watercolours he got in Metropolis. You were cordial and polite; you hugged longer than you had since you’d broken up. He never saw you again.
You glanced up at him from your phone, wondering if he was going to fess up. To admit that he knew you. He gulped, fear in his eyes and looked away. So, no.
“I’m just going to call my boss, Kal-el. You can go. Wasn’t your fault.”
“Right, I’ll get out of your way, miss-“ He waited for you to say your name, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You said it and he repeated it back with a smile, like he was relieved to be able to call you by it now.
If you just… wiggled your hand out, it wouldn’t hurt more. No, that wouldn’t work. It was really wedged in there. You had dropped your sketching pen in the drain next to the bench you were sitting in and thought you could surely grab it with your nails on the small holes of the system. You were wrong, so terribly wrong. You could not and it was now stuck in there. To add insult to injury, you had chosen a pretty secluded place in the park and saw no one who could help you. The dog was looking at you like you were an idiot and you could not fight him on it. You supposed you had done it to yourself; you wanted to know how good Superman sense of danger was and wondered if you screamed his name, he’d come. Would Clark recognize your voice? You were about to try it when you dropped the pen and thought maybe Superman would come for a citizen with her hand in the sewer. You had not counted on getting stuck. Your fingers were numb already when you broke and yelled a loud ‘fuck’ echoing the surroundings. Anyone would do right now.
“We have got to stop meeting like this.” A voice said from behind you. It had worked. Clark crouched down in front of you, and you knew you looked like a moron, on all fours with your hand full of graphite and hair in your face. You weren’t even wearing the leggings that looked good, they were the old, grey type.
“How’d you know it was me?” You questioned, glancing at him who held a proud smirk on his face.
“Your smell.”
“Creepy.”
“Don’t call the man who’s going to save you from amputation creepy.” You huffed, shaking you head with a small grin.
“I’m sorry.”
“Atta girl. C’mon.” He snuck his finger into the railing right next to yours and without breaking a sweat, he lifted the metal and bent it, effectively freeing your hand. You moaned relief, your dog finally hearing the commotion and running up to you, licking your face like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.
“Suppose you were reaching for this?” Clark grabbed the pen and put his hand out in front of you, the sudden movement scaring the animal into defence. He stood defensively between you two and groaned.
“Oh, okay. He’s feisty. Just gonna put it down here.” You watched as you rubbed your hand and tried to bring it back to life, Superman placed the pen the bench.
“Of course he is, I’m a woman living alone. He knows the odds.” You defended your puppy, petting him to get him to calm down. Clark put the railing back into place and wiped his hands clean, offering you his hand to get you to stand up. You took it, trying to ignore the weird electricity that coursed through your veins at the simple touch. His hand was rougher, maybe even bigger than before. It was just as comforting, though.
“That’s good, he’s your protector.” Superman said and you nodded, straightening your body and sighing.
“Yep. Thanks, uh- Superman. Kal-el.” You said, not knowing how to refer to him
“You can call me Kal-el. Superman’s pretty formal.” He said and you nodded, sitting back down on the bench and pulling your knees to your chest. Even if somehow your initial attempt was to summon him, now that he was here you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know why you wanted him here, you were just thinking of him.
“Can I sit?” He pointed to the spot besides you and you nodded, picking up your sketch pad to give the space. He sat down with a sigh, like a man who carried the world on his shoulders. It did fit him right.
“Are you an artist?” Kal-el motioned to your art supplies, you grabbed them tighter to you as if you wanted to hide them.
“Uh, as a hobby.”
“But you work in a gallery.”
“Yeah, but I manage it. It’s close enough, though. And sometimes the Metropolis art museum calls me for a restoration project. Well, they’ve done it once. But I’m on the roster.” You explained, not knowing how you felt about how your life had turned out. You never had a specific dream, not like he did. You found restoration fascinating, you liked painting and drawing, you wanted to learn more. That was about it. He had his life planned out at sixteen. And it seems like he did it all. Help everyone. Write in a big newspaper. Be able to help his parents. You used to be part of those plans, only in whispers when you’d lay on the field and he’d run his fingers down your arm and ask if you’d like a house or an apartment, a dog or a cat, vacations at the beach or at the mountains. You never gave a serious answer, asked for a Komodo dragon or a treehouse. It was scary to tie yourself to a man who had bigger dreams than you and secrets he wouldn’t tell.
“That’s really cool. Is it what you always wanted to do?”
“Uh, I like it. It’s enough. Never had my life planned out. But I like my job, like supporting artists and bossing people around. It pays well.” You shrugged, looking at him and resting your face on your knees. He was looking at your dog jumping around with another one, already feeling protective over the pup. He nodded, looking back at you.
“What about you? This your dream job?”
“This doesn’t pay. No paid time off or 401k. But I love it, it was sort of my dream.” You smiled, nodding softly. You could tell he loved it, you saw it in the way he the relief took over his face after a job well done, the way he conducted himself in the interviews (he was interviewing himself, made you break into laughter when you first read that), the pictures and the news segments with soft smiles that would make anyone swoon.
“So you have a 9-5…. A wife and kids in the suburbs?”
“A 9-5 and an apartment where I don’t spend enough time.” He responded and you were relieved there wasn’t a wife and kids, it would’ve been a knockout to find his life had turned better without you. That you leaving his life wouldn’t have shifted him even a little. Not that you wanted him to be unhappy, of course not, but you still wanted some type of consequence for giving up on you.
“Ah, you did well for yourself, Kal-el.”
“Thank you.” Clark couldn’t bring himself to ask more about you without seeming suspicious or without it breaking his heart. It would kill him to know if you had struggled, if your family was fine, if men had been nice to you, if you’d made good friends. He should’ve been around for all of that, he wanted to. But he promised, he said he’d do right by you. Even if it meant letting you go.
“Clark.” He looked up from the book on his left hand, his right still over your shoulders as you slept soundly next to him, bundled against his side with your face still tacky from the tears. It had become a routine, you sat beside her and inevitably ended up weeping, Clark taking over the reeding. Your mother turned around to look at him, having interrupted the reading of The house of spirits when he finished the chapter and was licking his thumb to turn the page. “Yes?” “You’ll take care of her, right?” Clark’s mouth went dry, closing the book and looking down at your sleeping figure. You’d be furious with your mother if you heard her asking a man to take care of you. “I’m not- I know you’re kids. I’m not asking you to be with her forever. But while you can, just… help her out? Y ’know she’s all brave and strong but I know my little girl. And I just want someone to keep an eye on her. You love her?” He nodded instantly, his hold on you not having faded a single second even when his hand went numb and he knew he should’ve been home for dinner. “I- I know I’m young but if this isn’t love, I really don’t know what else it could be. You know that quote from Jane Eyre? We read it a couple months ago in AP English.” “Which one? Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own?” “Yeah… I feel that.” “Jesus, kid.” Your mother laughed slightly, looking at Clark who was all blue eyes and charm. He smiled softly, like he was embarrassed of feeling so deeply so young. Feeling like this when she didn’t even know who he was. “Okay, good. When I’m gone, which will probably be soon, I want her to have people who love her. Your mama raised you well, Martha’s lovely and I want her to have that.” “Of course, ma’am. I’ll be here as long as she’ll have me.” “That’s the thing, too. She’s loyal as a dog, so she won’t leave easy. If at any point you think you two don’t fit into each other’s lives, if whatever it is that your hiding starts getting in the way” Clark looked down embarrassed, he didn’t realize so many people could notice, “you’ll have to be the strong one. I know you will be.” He sighed and heard her rearrange herself on the bed, sitting up with difficulty but he didn’t run to help her because she hated it and it risked waking you up. She reached for Clark’s hand, it was cold and wrinkly, but he looked up at her. The thought of you two breaking up hadn’t ever occurred to him, he sort of thought this was it. No more searching. After a you agreed to be his girlfriend, the girl in his class that smelled like roses and made him laugh so hard during lunch he squirted milk from his nose, that was enough. This was going to be the rest of his life. And he was ecstatic about it. “Okay? I’m not asking the world of you, right?” “No, ma’am. I can do that. I will.”
That was the reason why when he couldn’t get a smile out of you, he needed to make the decision. Because he couldn’t tell you, it would freak you out. You’d be in danger; he was as illegal as it could get. If he decided to use his powers for good, you’d be at risk. He couldn’t tell you. After you had sex for the first time, he was so enamoured he forgot for a whole day that you didn’t know who he truly was. Then the guilt started to eat him up, turning into a discussion of whether to tell you or not where his parents were no help. That was the night of your art showcase and the following morning you were over.
“I’m heading home. What about you, Kal-el? Those spidey senses tingling?”
“Wrong superhero.”
“Ah, you all look alike. Very well, I’ll see you around. Say bye, honey.” You cooed as you leashed up the dog and he looked at Superman, starting to walk away. You chuckled, looking back at him with a grin. The grin of mischievous charm you’d had since 13. The one he saw when you sneaked him into your room on late nights, when you wrote small compliments on pieces of paper and passed it to him in class to make him blush. It was in his composition to smile back, giving you the dimples that used to stop you in your tracks. It did again, your tote falling from your shoulder.
“Tough crowd. Take care of yourself. Really.” You nodded, smiling at him and waving while he watched you walk away.
“Don’t I tell you to take care of yourself?” Superman said, looking down at you with a smirk. He was all cape, a vision of strength and righteousness. You wished you had a photograph, if you hadn’t just not so accidentally fallen down on the street, soft enough that he had had to be close to you to notice it.
“I tripped; I didn’t get shot.” He rolled his eyes, using his two hands to pull you up by your arms in a grip that felt like he was holding back to not hurt you. He was.
“This little man didn’t help, huh?” Beetle’s tail shook while Clark looked down at him, already growing fond of the man since last time he had seen him when he ‘ran’ into you while walking him and he accompanied you home. He melted himself against his palm and Clark remembered how cool normal dogs who couldn’t drop kick you or ruin your apartment in two seconds were.
“Slut.” You told your dog as you watched him leave hair all over Superman’s leg.
“Who made your suit?”
“My ma.” You guessed that. Martha had shown you how to do basic sewing when you were younger and she fixed some of your mother’s clothes to wanted to keep, to fit you better. You saw the inklings of the love she poured into everything, specially her only son, on the inches of his suit. Remembered how she used to stitch Clark’s initials into the insides.
“And do you think she knew you would look double cheeked up in it?” You wiped your legs as you glanced up at him to see if he still blushed up to his ears and got the shy blinking thing.
“What did you just say?”
“You know, your ass looks huge.” He choked on his own saliva and there it was, the blush and blinking thing. It was still the same dork as always. You sort of forgot after all these years of forceful forgetting and hating him that you used to love him. He used to be the last thing you thought about at night and the first thing in the morning. You had spent years running from him. From the smell of his laundry, his humming when he studied, the way he had made you feel like he was in it for the long haul and you believed him. Everything that rang through your brain when it was quiet. You spooked it away, dreamt of him so much he slowly lost his reality. But he was still real and you had to go back to wondering why he suddenly didn’t want you anymore. Or why he lied. It was terrifying to slide back into it, but you couldn’t help it. Clark was still intoxicating.
“No… I don’t think she previewed that.” You laughed at his response, walking alongside him towards your apartment. This has happened a few times now, you run into a little bit of trouble (sometimes on purpose) and Superman appears from behind you like he was summoned from breathless ‘fuck’ from your mouth.
“Just a happy accident, then. What were you doing on this fine Sunday night before duty called?”
“Not much, polishing my boots.”
“Are you serious?”
“You’ll never know.” You huffed, shaking your head as he chuckled. He wasn’t going to lie, he was sort of hoping you’d appear. Seeing you again had shaken his world upside down, an odd mixture of guilt, regret and excitement filled his nerves when he heard you call (or struggle). But mostly, he was so happy to see you. See what had changed, what had stayed the same. How you still filed your nails the same way but never braided your hair like before. How you talked to your dog the same way you talked to the baby goats the farm had one spring. How you still saved all your loose change to give to people in need. But you didn’t wear gold hoops all the time anymore and it seemed like you had retired the Kansas accent mostly (he had too).
“How’s curating going?” Kal-el asked, referencing the second job you had been picked for now.
“It’s mostly just q-tips and alcohol right now, it was recovered from an abandoned hospital towards the outskirts of Gotham, all dirty and dusty. But oddly enough, even that I love. It’s like when you scratch a lottery card and start revealing the image behind it.”
“I get that. Sounds great.” You nodded, wiping your face as a leaf flew on you and Clark bit his tongue to avoid not reaching out to wipe it himself.
“What about your day job?” He waved at a kid who looked at him from across the sidewalk and watched him erupt in hysterics, turning to his mother to celebrate. You watched too with a grin.
“Good. Sort of slow. My co-workers are trying to do an unofficial retreat to a cabin which I’m sure would end in murder.”
“You’d be there to stop it, though.” You pointed out, looking up at him.
“Well, what if I’m the one committing it?”
“Ah, isn’t there some intergalactic oath that says thou shall not kill in cliché ways? Like in a cabin, so unoriginal.” Superman laughed, shaking his head.
“Not really.”
“At least go full horror movie and get a chainsaw.”
“What horror movies are you watching?”
“None at all. I’m more of a Chef’s Table kind of gal.”
“What’s Chef’s table?” He didn’t get a response as you turned the corner of your block and a little girl with two pig tails came barrelling down the street at the sight of you.
“Hi, Beetle! I missed you.” She yelled, coming to a halt in front of you and letting the dog sniff her hand first before petting him lovingly, getting face licks that turned her into a fit of giggles.
“Hi, Tiana. I’m here too.” You teased her, making her smile up at you.
“I’m more excited to see him.” She still had her arms around the dog, hadn’t even noticed Big Blue next to you covering what was left of the sun. You let out an offended gasp that made the little girl laugh even more. A man jogged towards you two, same smile as the little girl. He was tall, dark and magazine handsome and he had a confused grin as he looked at the man besides you.
“Hi, Wes.”
“Yeah, hi. Uhm, Superman. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Winston. Big fan.” He didn’t even glance at you, offering his hand to Clark who shook it with a grin.
“Pleasure’s all mine.”
“Overshadowed by men. I should have killed your plants.” You joked, rolling your eyes teasingly. Winston glanced at you finally, a softer smile taking over.
“Sorry. Hi, sunshine. Had a hard time watering them?” He said, leaning over his daughter to kiss your cheek. Clark’s eye twitched involuntarily at the display of affection, which didn’t have to mean anything, but it could. And he had avoided completely thinking about the fact that you may be taken, you didn’t seem like you were. He could have ignored the signs for his mental health, though.
“Nope. Your basil’s still perfect and I found a packet of Oreos on the counter that looked real lonely. I may have kept it company.” You crouched down to look at the little girl, Tiana, and squinted at her.
“I was letting them get soft.”
“I like them stale too.” The little girl’s mouth dropped, looking up at her dad like she couldn’t believe you had dared. Maybe you had, you loved Oreos dearly your whole life. Clark rarely looked at one without thinking of you.
“Daddy, I’m gonna go look if she took them. I’m taking Beetle.” She grabbed your leash from you and skipped with the dog into the building.
“I didn’t, by the way.” You said as you looked at both men, continuing to walk towards the building and follow Tiana inside.
“Didn’t think you had.” Both men responded at the same time. Your eyes opened wide, looking between them with a small smirk.
“I’m so predictable. Okay, I need to save my dog before Tiana puts make-up on him. See you around, Supes?” You looked up at Kal-el, he nodded and put his arms to his sides to avoid leaning in to touch you. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. You smiled and reached over to squeeze his arm affectionately, letting go quickly before jogging up to your apartment.
“Great to meet you, man.” Winston said before following you, leaving Clark standing outside and thinking how the hell he was going to find out if you were dating without grossly abusing his powers and your privacy. He didn’t have any right to know; he was still hiding from you in all things considered. But he was green and confused, what you had here was fragile and strange and friendly, so he didn’t have the right to even feel anything. He was still a coward.
“What are you doing?” Lois asked, effectively spooking the man of steel who jumped and changed the tab on his computer immediately. He put his head on his arm and turned around, smiling unsuspectedly.
“Just… research.”
“You’re researching… pretty girls?”
“I’m researching art galleries. The pretty girl is a coincidence.” Lois squinted at him, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Aha. Well, let’s see the pretty girl’s art gallery.” She motioned towards his computer, making him switch back to the website of the gallery that featured pictures of the staff. And there you were, professional and still casual and so, so sweet and pretty. He had been looking at the picture like a creep for a while now until Lois noticed.
“And what’s so interesting about this gallery?” Lois asked, coming closer to him and taking his mouse to look around the page.
“Uhm, they have some pieces from around the globe and have like videos where they show the artists like showcasing their work. They have like agents around the world who get them real unknown people.”
“Huh, sounds neat. Were you planning on taking a crack at it?”
“I don’t think I have the vision.” Sounded much better than ‘I was actually just stalking my ex’.
“Okay, maybe I will. Need a break from seedy politicians. Thank, Smallville.” Lois slapped him on the back and grabbed her phone, snapping a picture of the address and you. Clark winced, not wanting her to get mixed up in his personal problem but too afraid to tell her what was going on.
“Hi, you said you wanted to speak to me?” You were wiping your hands as you walked to the reception area, a lady in a purple sweater and beautiful dark hair with her back turned towards you was said to be asking to talk to the manager, ‘not in Karen way’ she said, made your co-worker laugh.
She turned around and smiled at you, you thought there was surely someone blowing on her hair and flashing some overhead light. She was ethereal, pale skin and bright blue eyes and she was looking for you.
“Yes, hi, I’m Lois Lane. Nice to meet you.” She said, following with your full name and you nodded with a confused smile.
“You’re- you look beautiful. Wow. Great hair.” You responded, shyly wiping your hands on your apron as she had caught you in the middle of fixing an artist’s piece that got damaged in transport. Lois laughed, pulling her hair back and uncrossing her arms.
“You’re too kind. I’m from a newspaper and I was interested in doing a piece about the gallery. I tried to get into contact with the owner, but he told me to talk to you.” She explained and you sighed, you weren’t a great talker, but the owner was a worse one, so you’d guess it’d be a better bet. Plus, why would a newspaper want to know about this gallery in Midtown?
“Oh, alright. Yeah, do you wanna come to the back and we can sit down?” She nodded and you motioned her to follow you, walking to the back and into the employee lounge where they painted and did all sorts of things. You took off the apron and sat, watching her sit down in front of you.
“So, this gallery was recently brought to my attention, and I thought it could be a good arts and culture piece. Let people in on this secret. I just wanna get some background, ask about the method, favourite pieces. I won’t take up too much of your time. Does that sound good to you?” Lois said, pulling out a notepad and a tape recorder. You sighed and nodded, straightening your back to look more professional. Lois’s questions were straight forward and instigative, she got you talking and explaining about the owner’s ideas and how you treated sales of pieces so personal and from around the world. Towards the end, the questions turned silly and gossipy.
“Silliest sale story?”
“Someone tried to buy my spirit level. If I was a funnier person, I would have but instead I just directed them to Ikea.” Lois laughed, note pad left behind.
“Where are you from?”
“Smallville, Kansas. Home of the meteor.” You responded, Lois sitting up straight. She suspected Clark was being deceitful about having your website open, but this had just turned much juicer.
“Really? We have a co-worker from there! You may know him, Clark Kent.” She saw your easy smile drop, looking around as if he would appear from thin air or someone would come out with a camera letting her know it was a rouse.
“Oh, yeah. The Kents. Nice people.” Lois nodded, reading your expression and wondering how to get more out of you without sounding like a gossip.
“Yeah, he’s a real neat guy. All corn fed and midwestern charm.” You chuckled, nodding and wrapping your shal around yourself tighter like it was your shield.
“That’s… yeah. That’s him.”
“You look like I just mentioned the grim reaper.” She said lowly, coming closer to you to see your flushed cheeks.
“I- we just… lost contact.”
“But you had contact?”
“A lot, yeah.” You admitted, biting onto your nail. Really, you were sort of glad to be able to talk about him with someone else, instead of him just living in your mind and the weird limbo between Superman/Kal-el and Clark that developed in two months.
“Oh, okay. And did it end bad?”
“Well, not really. It was just hard to keep talking after.”
“Well, between us, of course, what did he do?” Lois asked, because it was clear to her something had gone wrong and if she knew Mr. Oh Shucks, it may have been his fault. It was hard for her to imagine Clark being horrible though. He was so respectful and kind, she had only seen him talk about woman with respect. You didn’t respond, biting your cheek from the inside like you were debating on if to say something.
“What? Did he take your virginity and dump you?” She asked in a laugh that faded when you didn’t respond.
“You took her virginity and dumped her?” Lois said, rather loudly, as she put her jacket down and walked towards desk. Cat looked at her with a confused look, glancing back at Clark who looked like someone had spilled his secret.
“I- what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Kent. The nice girl from the gallery.” Clark stood up quickly, taking Lois by the arm and leading her into a more secluded place to avoid her telling the entire bullpen about what he did.
“Did she- it’s not that simple.” Clark defended himself, Lois’s glare becoming harsher.
“You had sex with her, and you dumped her two days after. Seems pretty simple to me.” Clark whimpered, it was the course of events when you played it out like that, and he was horrified to realize that’s what you took it as.
“Yes, but I was dealing with a lot- I was getting my powers and she didn’t trust me.”
“She gave you her virginity! How is that not trust?” Lois spat, offensively looking at the man who was stumbling on his words.
“Okay, first of all, I was a virgin too. And second, you don’t get it. She wasn’t happy and her mother told me I needed to be the strong one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her mother, on her deathbed, told me if she was unhappy or our life didn’t blend together anymore, I had to be the strong one and pull the plug. She would never do it herself and she was- she looked at me like I was disappointing her. And I was! I couldn’t tell her about the whole Kryptonian thing and a lot what happening so I just lied and avoided her, and I could tell she was tired. I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know what to do- I kept thinking about her mother telling me to keep her girl safe and I would be putting her in danger. So, I just- I was the strong one.” He finally breathed out what he wanted to say, he had never told anyone the whole story or been honest about what was going on. To his parents it was because of the powers, to your friends it was because it just wasn’t working out. Lois was still frowning as she took it all in, arms uncrossing to place one on his shoulder in comfort as it was clear it was hard for him to talk about it.
“Oh. So, you never told her?”
“No. I was too afraid of scaring her or putting her in danger. When the powers came in harder and I realized what my parents- from Krypton, had wanted for me I just thought she didn’t deserve that. She needed stability and honesty. I didn’t know how to fix it or say it. I was terrified of her looking at me different.” Lois nodded, looking down as she imagined the type of mental hell Clark was in during that time.
“I get it. How did you know she was here?”
“I ran into her as Superman. Then again in her gallery that Green Lantern crashed into. I just kept like- listening to her and every time she needed help, I was there.”
“So, you’ve been like… back in her life as Superman.” He nodded, licking his lips and leaning against the wall. It was a relief to get this off his chest. He’d been hiding and plotting, acting like he was on a top-secret mission to help you carry groceries.
“Why not just… tell her? Now?”
“I- it’s like admitting to her I was lying all that time. I hid so much. She’ll think I didn’t trust her or love her enough.”
“She already does.” Lois whispered, Clark’s head whipping up at the words, his knees nearly buckling.
“What did she say?”
“She said she supposed you had fallen out of love or just never loved her really. That you wanted to go away to college single.” Lois repeated what you had told her when you explained the situation in a more calmed and relaxed manner, less freaked out by the mention of his name. Clark’s face fell, his heart in his throat. That was the last thing that he wanted, and he said it wasn’t because he didn’t love you, but he guessed it sounded like a lie with the way he acted. His first two years in college were even celibate, too afraid he’d whisper your name into another girl’s mouth, or it would lead to him thinking about what he did and what you were up to. If you were sad or had moved onto other better, human-er guys.
“Couldn’t be further from the truth, Lois. She was… the sun before I learned about what it did to me. She felt just the same way. I was.. every good thing I am is because of her, everything that didn’t come from my parents. She was in the stars every night I looked up, it was consuming my DNA. I still think of her, dream of her. She’s like my sleep paralysis angel. So close but so far.”
“Jesus, dude.” Lois whispered, shaking her head to shake away one of the most haunting, depravedly romantic things she’d heard. Clark sighed, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes in a rough manner, to rid himself of the emotion pouring out of him every time he talked about you. That’s why he avoided it for so long, rejected it when his parents asked or brought up anything regarding to you.
“I don’t think it’s too late. If you wanted to.” Clark looked at Lois and swallowed her words with difficulty. How could it not be. You had a life that didn’t need him; a hot neighbour who called you sunshine, a dog more loyal than a tick, a job you were wonderful at. You made yourself into the person he wanted to be around to meet, to help, to love. Without him.
“Where would I even start?”
“With the truth.”
