Chapter 2
Chapter 1
The next few days were a blur. You were careful not to alert Clark of anything, or so you hoped, as your skepticism lead you to investigate. It was your job, you told yourself, right? You were a journalist, this wasn’t shady or fake, you weren’t being a bad friend.
Right?
Clark was being his typical self; sweet, relatively charming, particularly awkward and incredibly forward about his morals and views. You studied his reactions, his facial features, his unconscious movements, the way he pushed his curls from his face, all of it. You did your best to behave normally because you understood that Clark was also perceptive-that man seemed to catch everything. There were a handful of moments during conversations with co-workers where he caught your narrowed gaze. He’d frown, like he was confused, before moving on.
Why the hell did Clark Kent remind you of SuperMan?
There was no way Clark was his alias, right? He couldn’t have been three feet away from you for how long now and no one had noticed, right?
Right?
Obviously some heroes had alter egos, that much was a given, but…one that sat next to reporters, whose entire careers were based on investigating and being perceptive, and no one had noticed?
You frowned, lower lip tucked between your teeth as you paused your pacing. You’d been wandering around your place for an hour now, going over every minute detail and thinking of every scenario possible. Clark’s morals seemed to align with SuperMan’s, he’d scored multiple interviews with him, same hair color, same dimples but…Where SuperMan was confident, Clark seemed to shrink. Where SuperMan ploughed forward, Clark questioned. Clark didn’t strike you as someone who lied or easily manipulated, and neither did SuperMan. It would take an awful lot of emotional time and labour to maintain two identities with such differing characteristics.
“But SuperMan may have access to tech we don’t know about…” You pondered aloud, tongue flicking over your lips. You were frowning, lost in thought. “What if he’s got something that keeps us all…looking the other way?”
That opened up too many possibilities. You shook your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. No, you needed to focus on the facts. You needed to study the way the two men moved, their unconscious ticks and habits. That would help you pinpoint it. Clark couldn’t find out about this, he was too smart. He’d find a way to stop you in your tracks if he was in fact the caped hero and thought you might be on his tail.
You sighed, sinking into your sofa. This had been eating at you for days. Your instincts were screaming at you to look deeper, but a large part of you was scared. What if he WAS SuperMan? What then? How would that shift your friendship and the workplace? Would you get closer? Would that put you in danger? Supes had a record of putting people close to them in danger simply because of association. Who did you even talk about this with if it did in fact end up being true.
“God,” You groaned in frustration, scrubbing a hand down your face. What if you just asked him outright? Clark wasn’t a very good liar, you’d learned that long ago. His ticks may not have been easily recognizable to others, but they were to you. His eyes brows would shift ever so slightly before drawing inward, his first response was “what?”, god forbid he had a pen in his hand because he’d click it once, twice, and then shake his head at you. He’d come up with some excuse, and it was always foolproof, but the real kicker was this: Clark only used one of his hands when he lied. People who were lying tended to focus more on coming across naturally and making it believable, and so physical movements were often lost. Clark typically only used one hand when he lied, but both when he spoke naturally. He used neither when speaking about something serious as he was too focused on the task at hand: proving his point.
So that was it, you resounded, eyes glued to the TV ahead of you. You would simply ask.
It seemed so easy, so why was your gut stirring? Could this end your friendship with Clark?
Your brows were knitted together in concentration, forehead wrinkling softly. Tomorrow…you’d ask tomorrow. At some point, the two of you would be alone, and you’d ask then.
Right…rightrightright.
God, this was such bullshit. It was rare something made you this nervous, but this was a huge claim. Clark Kent? SuperMan? It seemed so silly and yet it also made a lot of sense. Well, some sense. Enough sense.
A part of you prayed you were wrong. SuperMan was often in danger and in the middle of political debates. The idea that Clark was at the centre of those issues made your heart drop. SuperMan hadn’t always made the best decisions, which was part of the job, but he also placed himself in near death experiences daily. If all of this were true, Clark had been isolated for quite some time while carrying an exceptionally large load atop his shoulders. As far as you knew, Kent didn’t have a particularly large inner circle, but maybe this was why.
By the time Monday rolled around you were prepped and ready to, hopefully, handle the situation with grace. What’s the worst that could happen, right? Clark lies? Or he isn’t SuperMan? Or he is, and now you know and you keep it to yourself. Still, you were nervous. It was never easy confronting friends, especially when the stakes were so high. An undercover supe was no easy feat.
Hot latte in hand, you moved towards your desk with purpose, smiling warmly at Clark when he greeted you and raising a brow at Jimmy when he launched into discussing everything he’d done over the weekend.
“Yeah, I saw your stories,” You chuckled, sinking into your chair. “Looked like fun.”
“SO much fun,” Jimmy reiterated, sighing. “Anyways-how was yours?”
You shrugged, preoccupied with organizing your desk as you prepped to settle in for the day. “Ya know, normal? Boring? I cleaned, organized my stuff, did some research,” on Clark, “And tried to catch up on sleep. The usual.” You smiled at Jimmy over your shoulder, ignoring the look of disdain on his face.
“Yeah, that does sound boring,” He remarked, steepling his fingers before he turned his gaze to Clark. “What about you big guy?”
Clark hummed in response before peeling his eyes from the screen he was focused on. He turned to Jimmy slowly, catching your gaze briefly as he did. “Oh, me? Honestly, pretty well the same as Y/N-” He shrugged in your direction as he spoke. “Some cleaning, some work, nothing crazy.”
“No interviews with SuperMan?” You asked lightly. Jimmy snickered, and Clark rolled his eyes. Normally it would have been a teasing remark but not today.
“Ha ha,” He offered dryly. “Your envy is showing, ya know.” He held his hands up in defence, thick biceps flexing in his dress shirt. “What can I say? I AM his favorite reporter.”
“Oh PLEASE,” Jimmy started, before launching into it with Clark. On a regular day you would have laughed and joined them, teasing Clark and mocking Jimmy for his often outlandish attitude, but today you opted to quietly study Clark instead. Your eyes skimmed over his features; the slope of his nose and how his glasses perched on them, the way his hair fell across his forehead, his dimples as he smiled at Jimmy, and the warmth behind those cool, baby blues.
Clark was such a handsome man. It thrilled you to think that Jimmy may be right when he insisted that the gentle giant had feelings for you. You’d been passively dating for so long, it was rare you genuinely got along with a man, and Clark seemed to be one of them.
And that was also why you were so nervous. What if these claims impacted that? You were doubtful they would, given Clark’s nature, but logic didn’t seem to lessen your anxiety today.
Clark’s gaze suddenly slid to yours, his gaze almost eery, as if he was looking through you. You caught your breath.
“Everything okay, Y/N?” He asked, brows softening. You nodded, forcing a smile.
“Of course! Just tired,” You quipped, tossing him a quick smile before you swivelled back towards your desk. You needed Jimmy to vacate the area before you asked Clark anything, and going to lunch alone with Clark wouldn’t fly. Jimmy would suspect something was up, even if that something was romantic. You couldn’t afford questions right now.
The morning dragged by, your coffee growing cold as you forced yourself to work. The article you were trying to piece together seemed all too boring in comparison to what was running through your head, but you had deadlines looming over you. They helped kick your ass into gear, and the constant clicking of keys and Jimmy’s nattering behind you provided excellent background noise.
You startled when Jimmy suddenly pushed himself up from his chair, hands slamming on his desk. “Well, I have places to be and people to harass. Catch you guys later?”
Clark was grinning, and you offered a small wave before the short brunette was off, coat tossed halfhazardly over his shoulder.
You caught Clark’s gaze as he turned to smile at you. “What a guy, right?”
You absently nodded in return, the sudden vacancy in Jimmy’s seat had you chewing on your lip. The timing couldn’t have been better.
“Ya know,” You tried to keep your voice steady. You were never a fantastic liar. “I am starved. Do you wanna grab a bite to eat? Then we’ll head on back and crank these pieces out?”
Clark hummed, lips pulling into a thin line. “Ya know, I am pretty starved. Try that new place that just opened up about two blocks from here?”
You nodded, delighted. “That place with the fresh bread rolls and steak soup? Oh hell yeah, they smelled amazing last time we went past there. Plus,” You turned to gather your purse, “The reviews are killer. I checked them out online the other day.”
Clark agreed excitedly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before lifting himself up from his chair. You couldn’t help the way your gaze slid, ever so briefly, across the length of his thighs. “Amazing. Let’s kick it.”
You were pleasantly surprised when he offered you his hand, and you watched him for a moment, desperately trying to read his facial expression but all he offered you was a warm smile. You placed your hand in his, trying not to blush as you let him help you from your seat.
“Clark Kent,” You teased. “Always the gentleman.”
“It’s how my mother raised me,” He smiled down at you as you fell in step beside him. “She’d kill me if she thought I wasn’t bein’ a gentleman.”
You tried to dismiss the way his remark made your chest tighten. Okay, so he was like this with all women. You weren’t special, just a friend who happened to be a woman.
You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
The walk to the restaurant was genuinely enjoyable. Both you and Clark fell into conversation with ease, the way you always did. You talked about work, the articles you were writing, the people you’d interviewed and your deadlines. Family and home was briefly discussed, how your respective families felt about the two of you living in a city with supes, and then why on earth rent had gotten to be so ridiculous. The question you wanted to ask was burning the tip of your tongue but you swallowed it. You needed to watch him when you asked, and walking alongside him wouldn’t allow you to do that. You paused as you stepped into the restaurant, slinking past Clark’s rather large frame as he held the door for you, careful not to brush against his torso as you did. He smelled amazing, like he always did, and you sucked the inside of your cheek in an effort to maintain your composure. You’d never really noticed just how much Clark affected you until recently.
You hated it.
“Why thank you,” You teased, though your voice was warm.
“Anything for a lady,” Clark teased right back, winking behind the frames of his glasses. You laughed it off, tucking your purse a touch tighter against your body before stepping in front of the hostess stand.
It wasn’t long before the two of you were seated, patiently awaiting your meals. The restaurant was warm, cast in soft orange and yellow lighting and buzzing with conversation. You were next to the window, and the sunlight pouring through was warming your cheeks. The entire place was made primarily of wood, and the smell? God, the smell-all bread and meat. It was absolutely divine.
“I love this place!” You exclaimed, beaming as you looked around. “It’s just so-so-”
“Homey?” Clark finished for you, smiling.
“Yes!” You said again, laughing shortly after. “What a great place! Thanks for the suggestion Clark.”
“Oh, of course,” Clark feigned flattery. “I do know what’s best.”
You guffawed, but your chest seemed to bloom with warmth. Clark was always so…Clark. It was refreshing. It also made your stomach turn when you remembered the entire reason you’d asked him to lunch. Today was going so well and it was so light, this question could either completely and totally kibosh that or…he’d laugh in your face.
You studied him for a few moments, listening intently as he nattered on about his current article when suddenly the opening presented itself: “Maybe SuperMan can shift the outcome. He plays a pretty significant role for the people. He cares about them-us-you know?” Your heart nearly leaped from the confines of your ribs, tongue flicking across your teeth in anticipation.
“SuperMan, right!” You started, head tilting as you examined your friend. Thick lashes framed those baby blues as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly at you. You nearly rejoiced at your sudden idea. “He’s…alright.”
Clark’s entire demeanour shifted. He straightened, shoulders squaring, brows dipping in confusion as he looked you over. “Alright? I thought you loved SuperMan.”
You shrugged, feigning disinterest. “Sure…but he’s also a bit like a politician. I can’t just…love him blindly. I have to examine his behaviour, take it at face value. I can’t idolize him.” You peered up at Clark through your lashes, gently pulling your purse towards you. There was a blue pen tucked carefully inside-you needed to find a way to get it into Clark’s hands.
“Well, sure,” Clark seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. He was a huge fan of SuperMan, and honestly you’d be lying if you said you weren’t. It was one of the very first things the two of you had bonded over. You were both of the same mindset: SuperMan was good. He was a hero, he cared for the people and he always did the right thing, it just wasn’t always as smooth of sailing as everyone would like it to be. But you never seemed to disagreed with the decisions the hero would make.
So this? This was big, and Clark didn’t seem too thrilled.
“But he always tries to do the right thing,” Clark continued, frown lines snaking their way across his forehead. “Sometimes it doesn’t always work out but he always puts people first.”
You shrugged. “Yeah…but involving yourself in political affairs, especially those in other countries, kind of…” You pretended to search for the right words as you toyed with your pen for a few moments, before setting it on the table. It was just within Clark’s reach. “Gives the impression that he thinks himself to be above the law, above the people.”
Clark nearly twitched. “The law isn’t always right though.”
“No, but it is the law,” You shot back. Clark splayed his hands across the table, head tilting.
“The government doesn’t always put people first,” Clark’s voice was low. “If we’re talking about what I think we’re talking about, then he saved people’s lives.”
You shrugged again, mouth pulled into a thin line. “He still broke the law and didn’t answer to it. He behaves in a manner that indicates that he thinks himself to be above the law. So…” Clark was going to kill you for this. You gingerly picked up the pen and pointed it in Clark’s direction. “Is SuperMan pro criminal?”
It was bullshit, the lot of it, and it went against everything you believed in. SuperMan was right to have saved those people: human life was important, people were important. Governments and law makers were often corrupt and driven by greed and money but SuperMan? He always did the right thing, by your standards anyway, and now you were suddenly pro government. Clark looked not only baffled but nearly enraged.
“Where is this coming from?!” He demanded, plucking the pen from your fingertips. You could have rejoiced. “You are always on SuperMan’s side, the side of the people-” He was leaning over the table now, gripping the pen in one hand. “You love SuperMan and now you’re pro government?”
“I’m just saying Clark-” You started but he cut you off with a shake of his head.
“No no no,” He sputtered. “People are important. A politician? Really? Really Y/N? After everything-” He stuttered, seeming to catch himself on his words. “He’s done for this planet, sometimes without thanks simply because it’s right you’d say that? Where is this coming from?!”
The pen clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Clark,’ The sudden shift in your voice, how low and calm you suddenly seemed as you met his gaze across the table. He paused, lips parted ever so slightly, dark brows still furrowed in a deep glare, glasses having slid down the bridge of his nose as he stared at you over them. “Why do you insist on defending SuperMan so much?” Your voice was levelled, gentle even. “I know you interview him often, and you insist he’s not your friend but you adamantly defend him…why?”
Clark studied you for a few moments, the pen clicking in his hand as he did. You were barely breathing, swallowing thickly before he spoke.
“Because he always tries to do the right thing,” He finally answered, though he was still leaning over the table, as if he wanted to drive his point through you. “And I thought you thought that way too.”
It was now or nothing.
“I do,” You were curt, near cold as you spoke. “Clark Kent, are you SuperMan?”
His expression barely shifted: eyes widening just a fraction, the ends of his brows shifting upwards, lips parting.
“Pardon?” He managed quietly. He blinked, blues eyes shifting between your E/C ones. You said nothing, heart beating in your ribs like a frightened bird against the confines of a cage.
“Are you SuperMan?” You asked again, desperately hoping only you could hear the slight tremor in your voice.
The pen clicked.
Once.
Twice.
“No,” He said, gaze flicking downwards for just a fraction of a second. His free hand lay flat against the table as he looked you over. “Why on earth would SuperMan be sitting at a desk all day? Wouldn’t he have other things to do?”
“You aren’t at your desk all day,” The words escaped you before you could swallow them. Clark was LYING. You’d caught him and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your throat onto the table in front of you. The pen, the brows, the single hand movement-Clark Kent was lying. And maybe it only meant that he himself wasn’t SuperMan, that he knew him personally, but you didn’t care.
“Y/N,” Clark guffawed, but suddenly you could see right through it. He was trying to spin an infinitely bigger web of lies right before you. “What on earth makes you think I have another identity?”
You stayed silent, eyes boring into his. Silence was better, anything else gave him options and made him feel infinitely less intimidated. Aside from desperately wanting to know the truth, a part of you was downright livid that he had just tried to lie to your face.
A plan was slowly unfurling in your head, albeit it was a touch cruel, and you cocked your head to the side as you studied him. “Okay Kent,” You finally managed. “If you say so.”
Clark laughed, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief before he began to tease you, asking what had come over you and what on earth had made you think that let alone go so far as to ask him, and ‘had that whole politician thing just been a way to see if i’d crack’ and so forth. It was difficult to spend the rest of the meal pretending to be okay, to be normal, to not want to continue to press him for answers.
Clark Kent was hiding something and you were determined to figure it out.
