Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1
Author’s note: Here is chapter 2 of imgonnagetyouback! Since it may be hard for you to find chapter 1 on my page, here is its link:
💬 4 🔁 8 ❤️ 25 · Clois Multi-Chapter Fanfiction #1 ·
“imgonnagetyouback”
Author’s note: As promised, here’s Chapter 1 of the prompt I
PS: idk how to post a story in ao3 so I will use tumblr as my primary medium of posting. I hope you guys like this and let me know your thoughts :))
The bullpen was still buzzing after Chase Grant’s dramatic entrance, but Lois Lane heard none of it. Her ears were ringing too loudly with one word, moron!
Chase gave her a knowing little nod, the kind that translated to, relax, I’m not going to spill your in-flight confessions to the entire newsroom, but she didn’t trust that expression. No, not for a second.
Tess scanned the room then said, “Since Mr. Grant is new to Metropolis reporting, I want one of our senior staff to bring him up to speed. Show him the ropes, help him adjust to our workflow.”
Clark, the ever-righteous Clark Kent, took an instinctive half-step forward, but before he could open his mouth, Lois’ voice cut through the room, “I’ll do it.”
Clark froze mid-breath. “You… will?” The shock in his tone was an understatement, he was dumbfounded.
Dozens of heads swiveled toward her. Chase blinked, eyebrows raised, pleasantly surprised. Tess didn’t even try to mask her shock.
“Well, then” Tess said after she recovered from the shock, “that’s settled.”
Lois plastered on her brightest, fakest smile. “Welcome to the Planet, Grant.”
Chase grinned. “Looking forward to it, Lane.”
Clark stared at her like he was trying to solve a calculus problem. “Lois, are you sure? I mean, it doesn’t have to be—”
“It’s fine, Clark,” she said, pointedly not calling him Smallville. “Totally fine. Perfectly fine.”
Chase, unfortunately, picked up on the oddity immediately.
“Clark?” he repeated, glancing between them. “That what you call him now?” he teased.
Lois stiffened. Clark blinked, confused. And that was Lois’ cue.
“We’re leaving,” she barked, grabbing Chase by the elbow and dragging him toward the conference room, “Orientation time. Let’s go. Chop chop Grant!”
Chase followed, amused. Clark watched them go, jaw tightening after hearing that last familiar phrase Lois would always utter to Clark.
When the door shut behind them, Lois spun around, “Listen very carefully,” to which Chase raised both hands. “Should I be scared?”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “If you say one thing — I mean ONE — about the plane, I swear I will bury you under the archives room where even the cockroaches don’t go.”
Chase chuckled. “Relax, Lois. I’m not going to mention your metaphorical farm boy.”
“Good,” was what Lois only said.
He leaned against the table, he just can't pass the opportunity to tease one Lois Lane, “Though you should know, I didn’t orchestrate this.”
“Oh please. You expect me to believe you just happened to show up in my newsroom?”
Shrugging, Chase answered “I applied for the job months ago. Tess called me two days ago with an opening. You being here is a bonus.” He gave her that infuriatingly smooth smile again. “And I didn’t even know your last name.”
“Nope. You introduced yourself as Lois. No Lane. No Daily Planet. No Pulitzer-candidate aura.”
She swallowed, now feeling slightly stupid. “Oh.”
“But now,” Chase said, “things make a lot more sense.”
Lois folded her arms. “Nothing from the plane leaves this room.”
“You were never a scout.”
Couple days had passed and Clark noticed immediately.
Because Lois Lane had always called him Smallville.
In irritation. In fondness. In habit. In everything in between.
But now? It's always, “Clark, hand me that file.” or “Clark, we’re late.”
or “Clark, not now.”
Every time she said his first name, she flinched, subtly, but enough for Clark to see it. Of course he would see it, he knows her.
And every damn time Lois calls her Clark [and not the nickname he once hated but grew fond of being called by one Lois Lane], Chase was within a ten-foot radius.
Clark didn’t know why, but that pattern sank its claws into him more than he wanted to admit.
Chase, meanwhile, took to the bullpen like he'd been born in it. He was charming, fast-thinking, and irritatingly good at making Lois roll her eyes, just like what Clark has been good at doing for years.
“Seriously, Grant?” Lois said one afternoon, snatching a draft from his hands. “You spell-check with your eyes closed?”
“They’re beautiful eyes, though,” Chase said with a grin.
“Not relevant,” she shot back.
Clark’s jaw tightened from his desk.
Because that was his dynamic with Lois.
The bickering, the sparks disguised as arguments, that belonged to them!
He tried not to watch but he failed. Whenever Lois pretended not to hear something Chase said, whenever she stifled a smile, whenever she nudged Chase with the same exasperated shove she used to give him…
And then there was the coffee machine incident. Clark approached the machine just as Lois and Chase were already there. Chase held two cups.
“Black, two sugars?” he asked Lois.
“That’s Clark’s order,” she snapped, a little too fast.
Chase blinked. “Oh, my bad.”
Lois grabbed her own cup and muttered, “I take mine however I want to take mine.”
Clark’s lips quirked. “That so?”
She glared at him, cheeks pink. “Don’t.”
Clark took a sip of his coffee. “Didn’t say anything.”
But his eyes said everything.
Chase looked between the two of them and smirked and Clark so hated that smirk.
Clark Kent prided himself on being calm under pressure. Alien invasions? Manageable. City-wide disasters? Red and Blue Blur saves the day. Two reporters bantering over coffee? Normally harmless.
But Lois Lane avoiding him like he was made of kryptonite dust?
Plus another guy getting under her skin the same way he used to That was, new, unwelcome, and honestly, kind of torture.
Clark watched Lois from his desk as she leaned over Chase’s shoulder, pointing sharply at a paragraph on his screen.
“No, Grant, burying the lede isn’t a stylistic choice. It’s a crime.”
Chase chuckled. “You say that like you’ve never done it.”
“I don’t do crimes. I expose them.”
Clark smirked. Always has the last words, he thought. He tried to refocus on his article, but his eyes kept drifting back to them. But if he be honest, that’s what irritated him the most, how natural Lois' and Chase's rhythm was. Tsk, their names being mentioned together do not even sound pleasing, he pettily said in his mind.
But he recognized it. That was their rhythm. Clark and Lois, Lois and Clark. From before everything got complicated. Before the wedding. Before Lana. Before the hurt. Before Lois left for Star City to accompany Jimmy.
He remembered the parking lot conversation before Chloe’s wedding, the way she’d looked at him, cautious but open, the way she let him in without realizing she was doing it.
And then he’d messed it up. He. Had. Just. To. Mess. It. Up.
He’d broken something he didn’t even know they were building.
And now, he's watching Lois, laughing lightly at something Chase said, laughing in a way she hadn’t laughed at Clark in weeks.
And there it was again, that simmering inside him. He refused to call it jealousy. Because jealousy implied Lois belonged to him. She didn’t. Not then, not now, but he wouldn't want it to be not forever.
But the feeling was still there. A knot in his stomach every time Chase made her smile and a pressure in his chest whenever Lois called him “Clark” instead of “Smallville.”
He missed that nickname more than he’d ever admit. Smallville meant he mattered to her in a way no one else did.
Now she wouldn’t even say it in front of Chase. Clark wasn’t stupid. He noticed the pattern instantly.
Lois was hiding something. Something that had to do with that plane. Something that made her stiffen every time Chase was around him. Something Clark wasn’t part of. And he hated that most of all.
The bullpen had gone silent. Chase had left. The night crew had clocked out. It was finally just the two of them.
Lois typed furiously, pretending she didn’t notice Clark walking toward her desk with that determined stride she recognized too well.
She stiffened. “What is it Clark?” she asked, without lifting her eyes to look at him.
Even her voice had walls now, he lamented.
Clark winced but pushed on. “We need to talk.”
“But we do,” he said, gesturing toward the empty room. “It’s quiet. No distractions," a pause, "No Chase," he uttered quietly.
Clark caught how Lois’ eyes twitched at the name. She sighed and stood abruptly, grabbing her coat, “Five minutes. That’s all you get.”
They walked to the far windows overlooking the city’s glow, neutral ground, the unspoken Lois-and-Clark negotiating table.
Clark exhaled. “How did you two meet? You and Chase,” he started.
Lois blinked at the unexpected question. “Seriously?”
“Lois, he knew you. Before he walked in here. Before Tess introduced him. And you’ve been… weird around him... and me. So I just want to know what happened.”
Lois rubbed her temple with a sigh. “He was just bothering me on the plane, okay? That’s it.”
“That’s all you need to know.” Too fast. Too sharp. A dead giveaway.
Clark studied her, concern tightening his brow. “Lois, if he made you uncomfortable—”
“He didn’t,” she cut in quickly. “He was just, talkative,” then she forced a dismissive wave. “End of story.”
Clark didn’t buy it for a second. But he knew Lois. He knew that if he pushed, she’d bolt. Hence he shifted, eyes softening.
“Lois… about Chloe’s wedding—”
“Nope.” She stuck a finger out immediately, practically stabbing the air. “We’re not doing this.”
“We need to talk about it.”
She froze, jaw tight, bracing herself.
Clark lowered his voice. “You left to attend Jimmy. And when you were there, you never called me. I had to get updates from Oliver. And when you came back… everything was different. And then Lana—”
“Clark,” Lois cut in fast, louder this time, “I’m sorry.”
“For your—” she made a vague gesture between him and the air around them, “breakup. Again. For the thousandth time. Chloe told me what happened.” Deep inside, Lois knew she needed to cut off whatever Clark would've to say about Lana because she does not trust herself and she doesn't trust her lacrimal glands in not producing tears with whatever she would've heard from Clark.
Clark’s stomach knotted. Lois offered a small, sympathetic smile, the kind she reserved for real hurt. “Hey… I know it sucked when Lana came back and then things fell apart. But you’ll be okay. You guys always find your way back.”
Clark’s heart dropped, “No, Lois—”
She laughed suddenly and punched his arm in that teasing, familiar way of hers. “That’s what you thought before, Smallville.” It was too late when Lois realized the words that came out from her mouth.
The nickname slipped out so naturally she didn’t even catch it. But Clark did, for the first time in a couple of weeks, she called him Smallville.
His breath hitched. A smile, nvoluntary, warm, and hopeful tugged at the corner of his mouth. Lois froze when she saw it, gulping down the lump in her throat.
Then rolled her eyes. “See? There you go. Smiling again. Just be patient.”
Patience. The worst possible advice for the wrong situation.
Because she didn’t understand. She didn’t realize. She still thought Lana was the reason behind his sadness.
When the truth was standing right in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes.
Clark opened his mouth. “Lois, that’s not what I—”
But she bulldozed right over him again, stepping forward without even realizing it. The general's advice kicking in, always have the upper hand.
“And seriously, Clark, thank you,” Her voice softened, all teasing gone, “for saving Chloe. For being there when it mattered most. I never got to tell you that.”
She was close now, close enough to hug him. Her hand twitched at her side, like her body moved instinctively toward him.
Clark held still, breath catching. But Lois stopped abruptly, something flickering in her eyes. A sudden, sharp memory of the way his smile a moment ago had twisted something deep in her chest.
Instead of the hug she clearly almost gave, she smiled at him, lifted her hand and just rubbed his arm gently. A ghost of contact. A safe distance.
“Really,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Clark swallowed, overwhelmed, “You don’t have to thank me for that.”
“I do.” She stepped back, wall sliding right back into place. “Anyways… it’s late. I should head home.”
He nodded, even though he hated watching her slip away again. Slip, goodness he hated that word.
Lois walked toward the exit, pushing the glass door open. Clark lingered behind, hands in his pockets, mind spinning.
But then, Lois stopped in the doorway. Clark saw her freeze, shoulders tensing. Then he saw why, Oliver Queen stood waiting just outside the bullpen. Hand in pocket, suit immaculate, smiling at Lois.
Clark’s chest tightened as Lois stepped out to meet him. Oliver greeted Clark and he greeted back. He knew the two were friends regardless of their history.
The glass door shut between them, Lois’s silhouette framed beside Oliver’s as they walked down the hallway together.
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