By Wanda Detroit <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Submitted: September 2006
Summary: In this prequel to the author's "He Said, She Said," Lois and Clark reminisce about their love lives… and the moments that changed everything.
First — a special thanks goes out to Julie Stars and Stopquitdont, my BRs for this little story. Their encouragement means so much to me! This is a sequel to "He Said, She Said." Short and fluffy! It is supposed to be written by Lois and Clark AFTER they wrote (or spoke — however you like to imagine it!) "He Said, She Said" — but, as you will see, the story precedes HS,SS. So don't get confused! It's supposed to be more like a prequel. (They are reminiscing!) I do hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! I like to imagine it as two separate interviews (one of Lois, one of Clark) spliced together in this fashion. Feedback is greatly appreciated. —WD
PS: Paul rules.
Let it be known that I don't have the best of luck when it comes to love.
Case in point: In the third grade, I received my first love letter. It was signed "your secret admirer." For weeks, my friends and I poured over its blatant misspellings and horrible cursive, wondering who it could be. At last, I received a second note from my secret admirer, instructing me to meet him on the playground after school. I was burning with curiosity, so I went with my friends following a short distance behind me. Of all people, it was a boy named Wayne, whose only claim to fame was projectile vomiting carrots in the middle of math class one day.
I can still hear it. "Lois and Wayne, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…" My friends would warn me that my white wedding dress would soon be stained orange, and our children should avoid carrots at all costs. I was linked to Wayne probably well into junior high.
That's where it all began, really.
Lois Lane. I didn't even think I stood a chance with her. I really did fight my feelings for her for a long time. If you had seen the way she treated me, you would understand. She made it quite clear that I was nothing to her.
But before I'd even met her, I knew there was something about her.
I subscribed to the Daily Planet back home in Smallville. I remember reading her stories, oftentimes twice, pouring over her words. She has this way with language—she doesn't just report the facts. She's eloquent. I wanted to write like her. I wanted to meet her.
And then I did what any self-respecting girl would do. I made a point of ignoring the carrot jokes and immersed myself in my studies. I was always a good student, but I think that being smart also made me aloof to the fact that someone decent may have been attracted to me. The only guys who had the nerve to talk to me in high school were—how do I put it nicely?
God, it was a nightmare! I attended the freshman formal with a bowtie-clad geek with tape on his glasses. (You thought that was only just a cliche in the movies? So did I. But Pete had broken his glasses that day and hadn't had the time to go out for a new pair.) It wasn't that Pete was a jerk; he was actually a pretty nice guy. He was in the math league with me. I'd felt obligated to say yes.
To this day, there are *still* people who tease me about that.
Her words moved me. I wondered what she must be like.
And then I got my chance. I came to Metropolis, with a portfolio of work I'd done at the Smallville Post. I went to see Perry White.
And I saw her.
It was easily the most abrupt introduction I'd ever had. She barely even looked at me. But I looked at her. She was a stunning, natural beauty. She exuded confidence and professionalism.
And I… didn't. Perry turned me away. My dreams of a job at the Planet—shattered. My hopes of meeting Lois were equally unattainable.
But I became determined. I was going to show Perry I meant business. I was going to show him I could write as well as Lois Lane.
College was just a continuation of high school. I was wined and dined by jerks and losers. Only after I started at the Daily Planet did I meet someone I really liked.
His name was Claude. He was experienced. As a journalist, I mean. Although you could say he was experienced in many other ways. He was French. That alone should tell you a thing or two about him.
He had an incredibly sexy way of saying my name. Lois. Lo-is. God, I can still hear it. He cooed it like a dove, and it sent shivers up my spine! He was quite a bit older than me. What an idiot I was! I was barely legal to drink, and I let him take me home.
It was a mistake. It was a horrible mistake. He made crepes, the jerk! From scratch. They were delicious, and the wine we drank was just as good. And then…
…I am ashamed to even admit what happened after. I let him take me. I didn't even put up a fight. It felt so right at the time. He was suave, knew all of the things to say and do. And that voice! "Lo-is… Tell me about yourself, ma fleur, your thoughts, your dreams…"
And I did.
I told him everything. About my painful home life, about landing my dream job right out of college, about my current work-in-progress…
…which ended up on the front page of the Daily Planet a few days later, with *Claude's* name on it! I cannot even begin to tell you how I felt when I saw it. I had trusted him! And he had used me.
After that, I was through with men. I'd had it. It wasn't worth it.
I wrote a story I was confident about. I had a good feeling it would make Perry see that I was a capable reporter. And I was right. My piece was printed in the Daily Planet the next day, and I was hired.
I had hoped that it might win me the respect of Lois Lane. After all, many of the things I'd learned about news writing I'd learned from her. But, no such luck.
Lois made sure I knew my place. And even when we became partners, she was no different. She was all business. And she was quickly getting under my skin. I couldn't deny my feelings for her were getting out of control. But there was no way she was interested.
I did just fine on my own, of course. My work was my prime focus, and I was constantly recognized for it. Things were going swimmingly.
Until my solo operation became a partnership.
Perry White had this "brilliant" idea of teaming me up with a rookie. Clark Kent, from the land of corn and… more corn. (I know; I've been there.) I was not thrilled with the arrangement at all.
But, try as I might, I could not hate Clark. (And I really did try.) There was really nothing to hate. He's a genuinely good guy.
Around the same time, another newcomer arrived in Metropolis.
I came to Metropolis wanting a new life, a new home… normalcy. I had grown up all my life in Smallville, Kansas — and, somewhere inside of me, I knew that I couldn't stay there forever. You see, I was… different.
I never felt like I fit in. The only thing that kept me in Smallville was my parents. Even then, I knew that wherever in the world I decided to settle, a visit to them would only be seconds away.
I was ready to try city life out. And here I was, trying to make it. I got an apartment — a real fixer-upper. I got a job — the chance of a lifetime! I had my eye on a girl — now that was going to take some work.
Still — for a while, it felt "normal!" Just what I'd wanted!
Or was it?
It wasn't long before I realized I couldn't deny a special part of myself any longer. Aside from my contributions to Metropolis as a citizen and a journalist, there was more that I had to do.
And so, with the help of my mom and dad, I created Superman.
He was gorgeous. He was a Greek god in a pair of spandex tights. When I looked at him, I saw peace, and truth, and justice. But I also saw kindness and love for humanity.
And when I looked in his eyes — and when he looked in mine — I felt like the only woman in the world. Maybe I mistakenly took "love for humanity" as "love for me." I don't know.
I only know he made me weak. He made me want what I had pushed aside all those years. He made me want love. His love.
And he was mine. Well, not MINE-mine, exactly. But I discovered him. I named him. He was my story. For a while.
Superman was the greatest thing that could have happened in my life in many respects. I could still be Clark Kent. I could still have a day job and a normal life and be a regular guy. And, at the same time, I had a way to help people worldwide who were in trouble.
Then why did it have to be the worst thing that ever happened to my love life?
As soon as Lois Lane saw Superman, she was hooked. And I was burnt toast, left on the sidelines, kaput.
It was torture! Imagine: when I'm wearing tights, she's all over me. She's breathless and wistful and smiling. She's standing close to me, touching me, WANTING me. When I'm wearing glasses, she's irritated by me, she's often resentful of me, she's all business all of the time. When she sheds even a LITTLE kindness on my poor soul, she is sure to make it clear that we're just partners. Buddies. Pals.
It's enough to make a man go crazy! I wanted to take her by the shoulders and shout, "Don't you see? We're the same guy! Me and Supes. The one you want. I'm him. He's me." I've had dreams where I do this. Fantasies.
But I couldn't do that. The reason is twofold. The first reason is, I wanted her to want me. Me, Clark Kent. The regular guy. Just Clark. I didn't want her to love the hero, the powers, the idea of who I was and what I could do.
The second reason is, in my fantasies, whenever I dreamt about telling her, she always, always slapped me. Every single time.
So, what I did was, I tried everything I could to get Superman to notice me.
So, what I did was, I tried everything I could to get Lois to notice me.
I interviewed him. I was his ally, his friend. I stood up for him. I am ashamed to admit I once even tried to bid for a date with him at a charity auction. I did everything a woman could possibly do to show a public figure such as himself that I was interested in being more than just his friend. I know he could tell I was interested.
I learned from her, I let her take charge. I tried to make it as easy as possible for her to transition from working solo to working with a partner. I took care of her when she needed it. If she had an urge for something, I found it and brought it to her, no matter what. Chinese food, coffee just the way she liked it, chocolate bars. I even called her at night, just to hear her voice once more and to say goodnight to her. I know she could tell I was interested.
Then, something strange happened. I had a realization. What exactly WERE my feelings for Superman? Were they real, or was it just because he was this incredible hero, and I was starry-eyed? Superman had avoided all of my advances. I had to take this as a hint that he was not interested. I could not continue to simply pine over him every waking minute. I mean, I could, but that would be pathetic.
Kind of like what poor Clark was doing to me. Pining over someone unattainable.
But… was it so true? And did I really think Clark was pathetic? And was I really unattainable? Did it have to be that way?
I liked Clark. In the months after our partnership began, I not only grew to like having a partner, but I also grew to have a best friend for the first time in my life.
I don't remember when Clark started making excuses to call me at night, before I went to bed. Early on, he always had a reason. Lately, it was just to wish me goodnight. I started to think about how many times Clark's voice was the last thing I heard before falling asleep. And how much I liked it.
Lois was not returning any of my advances. I realized that if I didn't move on, I'd be in trouble. So one day, I decided I would try and cool it a little.
And that day — that very day! — she asked me to go to the gala with her.
She. Asked me.
And, of course, I said yes.