By Alicia U. <lxu2@cwru.edu>
Rated: PG
Submitted: April 2005
Summary: Martha told Clark that no one would be looking at him in his new costume. But is that really true?
***
"What the hell is that blue thing up there?" a portly construction worker exclaimed, his finger thrusting towards the sky.
His buddy gazed along the path the stubby finger drew. The tall, thin man shrugged. "I have no idea. I guess it's a big blue bird. Or something."
The short man gasped and then exclaimed, "I think it's a man in tights. Flying." After a pause, he shook his head. "I must be toasted."
"Yeah, you gotta be. It's a bird." He took a deep breath. "A big, uh, human-shaped bird." The man nodded resolutely. "Right."
"Right." The first man nodded emphatically. "Not a man who flies," he muttered. "Can't be."
"Yes, it can," the flying man replied, although no one could hear him. He soared through the air high above the construction workers, but he heard every word of their conversation. "I'm a man. Who flies." He grinned down at the two men. Confusion was just what he was looking for. "So far, so good. I can live with being a big, blue bird." He chuckled. "At least they're not shouting, 'Look at that flying freak, Clark Kent, up there!'"
Maybe this superhero charade would work after all. Time for the big debut.
Without wasting any time, he landed near the shuttle launch sight and sprinted towards the doomed space craft.
Just then, Lois Lane stepped out of the Messenger's control room. Her eyes locked on his, and he noticed a change in her face. "Kent?" she said in a startled voice. She pointed to the large red 'S' on his chest. "What the heck are you wearing?"
Clark froze in place. All thoughts of the doomed spacecraft flew from his mind. He no longer heard the annoying beeping coming from the control room so she must have done something to save the day.
More importantly, Lois knew he was Clark Kent. The disguise hadn't worked. He hadn't fooled Lois Lane. How in the world had he thought she wouldn't see right through the bright blue spandex? Did he really look that different with and without the glasses?
"Clark?" He could hear a hint of laughter in her voice. Even worse, she was pointing at him like he was a freak. "Tights? And a cape?" Now she wasn't even trying to hide her amusement.
What was he supposed to say? He hadn't planned for the inevitable. "Um … yeah?"
He could hear his father's words echoing in his brain, "I don't know about this costume thing, Clark."
But he had ignored the warning. In fact, he'd been almost cocky. Sure, no one would recognize him because it wouldn't really be *him*. Huh. Yeah right. How could he be so stupid? Why did he think Lois Lane, the best reporter in the world, wouldn't recognize him instantly?
Her voice interrupted his thoughts, "What are you trying to prove, Kent?"
He shrugged, unable to speak.
"I mean spandex?" Her eyes widened in apparent horror. "Not exactly a good look for you." She ran her hand along his right arm, and he was too stunned to move. "And bright blue?"
"Well … I guess I thought I looked good in blue?" What else could he say?
He could feel her gaze drift down from his arms to his chest and then even lower. Never before had he felt so exposed.
"Wow," Lois breathed. "They don't call them tights for nothing!"
His mother had said the same thing, only she'd thought no one would be looking at his face. How wrong they all were. "Um," was all he could say.
She still kept her eyes locked on his lower body, but her tone was no longer breathless. It was more like mocking. "Clark, blue is not your color," she snapped. "And red underwear on the outside! You do know that's supposed to go *inside* your pants."
"I guess … I know." He ran a nervous hand through his hair. Oh, this was bad. Very bad.
Before he had a chance to respond to the underwear charge, she was already attacking another part of his outfit. "And a cape? Those are *so* nineteenth century!"
He looked at her pleadingly. "You don't like the cape?" He'd told his mother the cape wasn't a good idea.
Without answering his question, she continued, "And tall red boots? What are you, a woman? A hooker?"
"No," was all he could manage to say. "They're men's boots," he said softly.
Lois ignored him and continued, "What are you trying to be, a cartoon Superhero?"
She paused long enough for him to think of an answer. "Well, Lois, you told me to bring a change of clothes to work! And this is my, uh, spare outfit?"
THE END
Late one night on IRC, Pam, Wendy and Sara were writing a round robin story. Wendy sent me the file to read, and as soon as I opened it, I read "No-one had pointed at his Spandex outfit and laughed their heads off. No-one had yelled, "What's Clark Kent doing dressed up like that?" And I immediately thought, 'But what if they had?' And this is my answer.