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@reportinglane
TEXT MESSAGE → CLARK/LOIS
LOIS: Your desk. Second drawer on the left. Open it, and for both of our sakes don't get all sappy. Or smug. Unless you really do want that slap in the face we talked about the next time I see you.
LOIS: Just -- Merry Christmas. Or Happy Hanukkah. Possibly Kwanza.
I’m glad you’ve found it within yourself to be open about your infatuation; I would never have known otherwise. But— much to your dismay— my heart is being kept for another.
It is? I am -- I am absolutely shocked. Bewildered even. I just don't know how on earth I could have missed something like that. You'd think it'd be so obvious. Some journalist I am, huh?
WARFARE → CLARK&LOIS
Clark rolled his eyes in annoyance at her, though his sheepish grin never leaving his lips, and the twinkle in his eyes sparkling more than ever. “Once again, your lack of experience on a night out shows through. Here’s a lesson, Ms. Lane, just because one is out at a bar does not mean he is drinking. And drinking does not always mean one is drunk.” Clark winked at her, the sarcasm clear in his tone. The young man groaned, dramatically. “You sound like a Destiny’s Child song, Lane. Whether they don’t scare or intimidate you, it’s no secret that it is those very people who can squash you with their little finger. And if you truly don’t believe that then you aren’t as intelligent and aware as you make out, or you’re just delusional.”
Clark gasped in shock, an expression of pain on his cleanly shaven face as his free hand was placed on his chest. “Ouch, Lois. A slap would have hurt less! Do- Do you hear that? That’s the sound of my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.” Clark took a sip of his now warm coffee, peering over at her as he did so. Clark wasn’t sure what about him bothered the brunette so much, and he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he would never find out. She was impossible to figure out and something told him he’s better off keeping his distance from her, even if he found that task difficult to achieve.
Rolling his eyes again, he tried his best not to zone out as she was speaking. But the young man’s thoughts drifted elsewhere as he began thinking of what the emergence of the Green Arrow could do to the city, and to him. Clark was brought back by something Lois had said, his eyes widening before he narrowed them. “Advice from one journalist to another, maybe you could build up on more facts about a story before rushing to get it printed. There is always more to a story, especially one concerning that of a ‘hero’. You never know what damage you could be causing, what you could be revealing. What may seem harmless to you, could be life-threatening to the person you are reporting about.”
Clark swallowed, before pushing himself off from the desk and walking towards his own, where Lois had just moved from. His eyes scanned the papers on his desk, noticing someone had gone through them, bt choosing not to take notice. After all, it’s not like he actually kept any of his actual potential stories out in the open for the likes of Lois Lane to snoop through. “Did you know how pleasant you are to be around? You’re like a ray of sunshine.” Clark said in a monotone before turning his attention to the email that had appeared on his screen.
Lois laughed out loud as Clark called her out on her lack of experience out on the town. Causing looks from a few of those around her, but she just ignored them. "Kent, I could out drink you any day of the week." Everyone has their rebel phases, especially if you're the daughter of a General. The one time she attempted going to college at Metropolis University -- she was kicked out for drinking. Nowadays however, that relationship usually only came into play when she didn't know how to deal with certain...emotions. It served to be the best solution in most cases. At his wink, she made a disgusted face. "And so what do you expect me to do, Clark?" Lois challenged. "Cower in the corner like a scared child because the big bad wolf is huffing at my door? Those with high power and money are those that need to be exploited for what they do and who they are. Corruption happens when people turn a blind eye and are too scared to do anything about it." That much was true by the list of people and businesses she had exploited. "Besides, let's not act as if you care about my well-being or who up on the food chain I do or do not anger anyway," she added in.
With a raised eyebrow, she sat up straighter, leaning forward in her seat. "Come here then, Clark. It would fill me with great joy to slap you if that's what you really want." With a smile and a challenging look, she brought her coffee cup to her lips in order to take a long and much needed gulp.
"One journalist to another," Lois repeated the words to herself. The tone in her voice made it seem like it was the funniest, most amusing and ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "Here's the thing Clark, I don't need nor will I ever take journalistic advice from you. Would you care to know why?" She was sure he didn't, but she didn't give him a chance to answer or throw in some smart remark. "It's because I have been working my ass off since I was fifteen. Working day in and day out for this newspaper. I have more than earned not only my spot on this paper and in this office, but the respect that I've earned along the way. I have had more front headlining stories than you could ever dream of." There was power clear in her voice, as if she has made speeches like this time and time again -- and she had. There were always people along her climb to the top -- usually always men -- who tried to tell her how to do her job. Despite her never asking nor needing somebody else's help. "You've been working at this paper for how long?" It was a rhetorical question, as she just kept going. "And yet you walk around this office on a pedestal, acting as if you're better than everyone in this building. Throwing in your holier-than-thou opinions and "advice" when they aren't needed or wanted, because that's how highly you think of yourself."
After Lois was done, her eyes having never left Clark's as she spoke, she stood up, hands planted firmly against the edge of her desk. "Now, before you can make some smug comment like we both know you're already thinking of, I'm going because I have actual work to do." She pushed her chair back, hearing someone make a noise as it hit them, but she didn't care. There was one thing you never did to Lois Lane and that was telling her how to do her job. Especially not someone like Clark Kent who couldn't walk into a room and strike respect and fear alike in those around him like Lois could, because they knew exactly who she was and for good reason too. Grabbing the cup holder that held her remaining coffee cups, she made her way to the back room to look through some files. She could only bask in her headlining story for so long -- there was work to do and stories to build.
Gotham City was utterly eerie during the night. It was almost pitch black save for broken street lamps that lit the way and shadows always seemed to be looming within the depths of darkness. Lois, dressed head to toe in her newest disguise, was making her way to the nearest subway station as quickly as she could. While she wasn't scared to be roaming the streets of Gotham -- she could take care of herself, always could -- after coming from one of Gotham's most notorious Mafia families, she couldn't help but be a little on edge. Even though she knew without a doubt that they didn't recognize her -- she played her part without flaw, she could never be too sure. So when she start noticing someone walking behind her, she tensed up. What if they were on to her? Not making an rash decisions or moves, she waited until she was in a better spot -- or as better as you could get in Gotham City -- and turned around to call the guy or girl out that was following her. Still keeping up her appearance as Nikolina Bjornsen. "Look, I don't take kindly to being fol--oh." Lois stopped mid-sentence, realizing that the person she thought had been tailing her wasn't such at all. In fact it was someone she recognized. "What are you doing down here?" asked Lois, still a bit flustered and tense, her fake, but very believable, Norwegian accent still heavily lacing her voice.
Peter tilted his head in confusion, “Okay?” Once her hands were back in her own lap a small smile formed on Peter’s lips and as he peered at the girl beside him. “Was it really bothering you that much?” He lightly chuckled to himself. He hadn’t even known the glasses sliding down his nose, than again he usually never did. Most of the time it wasn’t until they were on the ground he remembered they were on his face.
With a laugh she smiled guiltily, saying, "You have no idea." Everyday she had to sit across from Clark and notice when his glasses would slip down his nose. Usually when he was reading or typing away at his computer. Every single time she had wanted push them up on his face. Wasn't that what people with glasses did anyway? Used their pointer finger to push them up the slope of their nose. It was like the geek mating call. But unlike with Peter, she would never have dared to do it to Clark, because she'd never hear the end of it. Whereas Peter didn't seem to mind. Just as she was about to say something to break the silence, the subway came to a stop announcing her destination in Metropolis. Turning to look at Peter, she gave him a slight nudge. "We should meet up on subways more often, Parker. They make you bearable -- maybe even both of us." After she obtained her purse from around her leg, she used his shoulder to push herself up and made her way off the subway without another word.
Peter accepted her no promises, after all it would be the best he would get from Lois. He sighed lightly before delving into his story. “So here I am just stepping on to the cart, and it was a busy day so there’s barely any room for people to stand much less sit. I make my way down to a spot where I can stand but there’s no rails or anything to hold on to.” Peter paused as people started transitioning on and off the cart. The noise from them all being too much to continue talking over. After things had settled he turned towards Lois now and continued on. “So things are going fine at first, I’m managing to stay up right. But then, of course, the subway comes to a sudden and quick stop and it causes me to fall. Of course I couldn’t just fall to the floor, no instead I fell right on this lady. My head was right face down in her lap. Now of course I got up and apologized, but she didn’t see it as an accident. She thought, well you know what she thought. Anyway, that’s when she started beating me with her purse.” Peter winced slightly remember the pain from her hits, “I honestly think she had bricks in her bag. She only stopped when it got to her stop.”
Though Lois enjoyed the story, it was hard for her to completely focus. When she wasn't laughing at the imagery Peter was describing, she was staring at his glasses. Holding her fingers in her hand. When he was finished, she finally decided enough was enough. "Okay, just --" Lois made a noise of indecision, her hands gesturing as if she was weighing her options. "Don't freak okay, alright?" With that being said, she made the simplest of motions, lifting her finger and pushing Peter's glasses up so that they were securely positioned at the top of his nose. A sigh of relief leaving her lips. "That's been driving me crazy." She almost even apologized for it, but she rarely apologized for anything, she was not going to start now.
PHONE CALL → OLIVER&LOIS
OLIVER: Oliver couldn’t help but smile at her handsome comment. It was both fun and unnerving for him to take a liking to her yet it didn’t bother him in the slightest that his dangling this carrot in front of her was all a ruse to get her off his back. “I can think of worse things,” he countered. “Not many, but some,” he added. “Will you allow my tailor and driver to pamper you or will I just be picking you up on the night of?” That decision, he was happy to leave up to her. If she wanted to be pampered, it’s not like he couldn’t afford it. Lord knew that Oliver Queen would be showing up in nothing but the best with, admittedly, a very beautiful, intelligent woman dragging him along.
LOIS: "I can dress myself. I've done it every day since I was 8, I think I'll be okay." Chewing on her lip, she thought of her next words. There was a part of her that wanted to deny that Oliver even pick her up, that she'd meet him there, but there was a part of her that figured the more she compromised and went along with everything, the more he'd possibly be open to telling. "You can pick me up at 8 and not a minute later." Jimmy was back then and this time a look couldn't scare him away, which meant that she was needed for something worthy of her time. "I've gotta go." Lois paused, lowering her voice so that Jimmy couldn't hear her. "Wear a grey tie." She hung up, staring at the phone for a lingering moment before she got up and followed Jimmy out of the room.
PHONE CALL → OLIVER&LOIS
OLIVER: Oliver Queen, the real one, could only marvel at the intrepid reporter’s attitude. It was admirable, to say the least. Unfortunately for her and everyone else, there was only the fake Oliver Queen. “So, you think I’m handsome?” he asked in a rather hopeful tone. He ignored her talk of pride since it came off as more for her benefit than his and decided to get straight to the point by dangling the carrot he knew she wanted. “Well, I also thought that if we went together, it’d give us ample opportunity to get to know one another. You getting to know me, more specifically. As your date, I’d be compelled to answer some of your questions.”
LOIS: "I think you think you're handsome," Lois quipped. Jimmy Olsen came over then, trying to talk to her -- as if she wasn't currently having a conversation on the phone. While she usually put up with Jimmy, considered him a friend even, now was not the time. Which a look that could burn through hard cold glass, he bowed his head, lifted his hands, and backed away. Leaving Lois to hear Oliver out. She almost wished she didn't. He knew just how to reel her in and make it impossible for her to turn him down. Now she was stuck between swallowing her pride or losing a potential story. In the end, the story almost always was crowned the winner. "Fine, but just so we're clear, I'm nobody's arm candy. If anything you'll be mine."
"Of course it was. What did you think a normal experience would still warrant being called worse than sitting to a dying man over there?" It was an exaggeration, but then again the man did actually sound like he was dying so Peter didn’t feel to bad for making it seem worse than it was. He returned her smile, "Really, you like stories? Nah, sorry I think someone forgot to fill me in on that little bit of information about you." Maybe it was because Lois wasn’t being difficult, or maybe because Peter was grateful for her letting him sit next to her without causing a fuss. Either way their banter at the moment was easy and it was surprisingly much preferred over their usual conversation style. "Promise me though, if you laugh, at least try and tone it down some for the sake of my feelings."
"Hey for all I knew you getting beaten up by a purse and entertaining onlookers alike was four subway rides ago," she mused. As she watched him she analyzed him. Looking over his features, because something told her they'd ever find themselves this close again. Besides, watching people was the best way to get to know someone -- especially if they were an open book. So far the jury was still out on Peter. But his glasses were slipping down his nose and her fingers twitched to push them up. Realizing how it would come off not only to him, but to those around her -- and there were always people watching -- she let it be. "I make no promises."
I, for one, would have no trouble admitting to my sexuality — especially if I had someone like you! We could rule the world, Lois Lane, one misogynistic media empire at a time.
Oh, Iris, you flatter me so. It's a shame really, if they knew how truly devastating it is to us. After all, you're one of the only people in this world that can actually handle me and put me in place. How am I ever supposed to find someone else like that?
PHONE CALL → OLIVER&LOIS
OLIVER: “I’m putting my money on pleasant,” he said in a playful tone. “I’m calling because we got off on the wrong foot the other night and I was hoping to get another try to put my best foot forward. As you probably already know, Metropolis is hosting a very lavish winter formal at the Royal next weekend. Since I can never turn down an opportunity to attend a party where you dress up, I’ll be going and I was hoping you might be my plus one.”
LOIS: There was a smile gracing Lois' features as Olive talked. One she didn't realize was there until it snapped back into a thin line, lips pressed together. "I am nobody's plus one, Mister Queen." That was the first thing that needed to be settled. "And I was also invited to the event, so, I don't need some handsome billionaire sweeping me off my feet just to get in. If you're looking for Cinderella, you're gonna have to look elsewhere." Lois leaned forward in her seat, tapping her fingers against the desk for a moment. "So if we were every to go together, it'd be as equals. Which brings us back to the main point. Why would I go with you and not somebody else?"
PHONE CALL → OLIVER&LOIS
OLIVER: “Miss Lane! Oliver Queen.” That was all he said for the moment, wanting to enjoy what he couldn’t actually see. His smile couldn’t help but widen as he imagined the look on her face right then and the thoughts that were probably going through her head. He wanted it to sink in that it really was Oliver Queen and he wanted to see if she actually believed it. Of course, there was no doubting the smug tone he’d had when he’d said her name aloud and the faux pride he’d had when saying his.
LOIS: The voice on the end of the other line was automatically recognizable and caused Lois to falter for just a few moments. Oliver was definitely not who she was expecting to be calling her. "Mister Queen." Lois made sure that her voice was steady, stoic. "I'm surprised," she admitted. "Though whether it's a pleasant surprise or not is still to be determined."
Our followers are as lovely as they are imaginative. Did you know, they’re so very sure our love story is real? Almost as if we’re hiding it. As if we, out of everyone, would ever hide something like that.
Oh, I've read the conspiracy theories. Something about how it's hard enough being women in our line or work and how adding on the lesbian label will only make things harder. Which I disagree with. I think it'd make for a much better story.
PHONE CALL → OLIVER&LOIS
OLIVER: Holding the small piece of paper with her number in one hand and his very expensive phone in the other, Oliver Queen dialed the very beautiful, very annoying reporter Lois Lane with an actual genuine smile on his face. Diggle, who was standing nearby while his boss lounged on the pool chair only a few feet away from indoor pool nestled on the grounds of the Queen Estate looked less than amused. Once he checked and double-checked that he had input the right number, Oliver finally hit Send.
LOIS: Lois was typing away furiously on her computer, ignoring every typo she made as she did. They could always be corrected later and her fingers were flying too fast to think of stopping. She was in the zone, writing about a corrupt business discovered down in the depth of Gotham City. It wasn't a headlining story by any means, but not all stories were meant to be. It was the phone perched on her desk that ended up breaking her from her typing frenzy. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, so not to snap at the person on the other line. Picking up the phone, she used her best "good reporter" voice. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet."
I’m pretty damn intellectual, it has to be said. Who buys people flowers for Christmas? Valentines Day, sure, but— Lois, is there something you’re not telling me? I wouldn’t want to be out of the loop only to find a vase full of flowers on my desk out of work hours. I wouldn’t think I was quite your type.
What can I say, Barry? Your scientific vocabulary, love for beady-eyed rats, and ability to never be on time to anything ever really just captured my heart and soul. I just never had the courage to tell you until now.
Sounds about right. We’ll call it: IRIS AND LOIS: HOW TO SURVIVE A MAN EATS MAN EATS MAN EATS MORE MEN WORLD. FEATURING A WOMAN. Possibly the most realistic title in the universe.
Already thinking of covers for it. I even asked my followers this morning. It was a tie between the Charlie's Angels iconic pose. being handcuffed to each other. and making out on the cover. As you can see they were very helpful and insightful.