By LaraMoon <laramoon@mac.com>
Rated: PG
Submitted: October 2007
Summary: A blind Superman asks Lois if he could spend the night at her place. What will she do?
Author's Notes:
This was written for Sue S. as part of a ficathon challenge [http://www.lcficmbs.com/ubb/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=5;t=001990]
It takes place during the Season 2 episode "The Eyes Have It. " — If you happen to recognize some of the dialog, that would be because it's taken directly from the show. How else was I going to rewrite a scene, huh? No copyright infringement intended — I don't claim to own the characters, nor the lines I've taken from the show.
I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to Caroline and Lisa for beta reading this on such short notice. Thank you so, so much! You girls totally rock! *hugs*
Check with the Bottom Dweller for my other notes.
***
I've barely managed to get inside my apartment, through the open window. I turn so that I can give Superman directions. He's flown us, blind, from all the way across town. I hate to think what he might have crashed into without realizing it if I hadn't been there to help him out.
"To your right a little bit," I tell him. "And then come straight in."
In the excitement, I've managed to forget that what's at my right is to his left and so when he flies forward into my apartment, he goes right through the closed window instead of the open one. He smashes the glass and lands abruptly in my living room.
"Or to the left," I say, feeling like an absolute idiot.
"Sorry."
"No, no, it's my fault." I rush over to where he stands, looking all awkward and embarrassed, and clean the broken glass off of him. "Can I get you anything? I just don't know what to do."
I really haven't the faintest idea what to do for a blind superhero. I mean, if it were Clark or Jimmy, for instance, I'd take them to see a doctor. But Superman?
"I'm so sorry!" I take his hand and lead him towards one of the loveseats. "Here, here, sit down."
He feels around for the couch and after a moment, takes a seat. I can't even begin to explain how bad I feel, seeing him like this. I mean, I've seen him hurt and in pain before. I've removed a Kryptonite bullet from his shoulder, for crying out loud. But this… He's just as helpless as a small child in his present condition. I'm beside myself with concern, yet I have absolutely no clue what to do for him!
"Is there anybody that I can call?" I ask, finally. "Or… Or, just tell me what to do to help you." Perhaps he knows better than I do? Oh, I hope he does!
He turns his head slightly in the direction of my voice. "You could let me sleep on your couch tonight," he suggests, hesitantly.
He wants to sleep… here? I gulp. I hadn't seen that coming, at all.
"You sleep?" I say, without thinking. I regret it immediately. I'll be lucky if that sounded only half as stupid as I think it did.
For a second, I honestly expected he'd give me the 1-800 number for National Superhero Assistance. Or… I don't know, something! I hadn't imagined that he might not have anywhere else to go or know anyone else to turn to for help. Well, there's Clark, I guess. But it was hard enough getting to my apartment; I'm not sure I really want to try flying blind a second time tonight to get him all the way to Clark's place.
"Yes, I sleep." He smiles at me. Well, he smiles in the direction of the door, really. I'm sitting a little further to his left — but he obviously doesn't know that.
"I… I… I mean, it's not like I thought you were, you know… a bat that flies around all night, or… I just, I never really thought of you… sleeping, I guess."
Oh god, I'm so glad he can't see me blushing. How is it that sometimes when I open my mouth, some of the world's stupidest things come out of it? Way to go, Lois, you've discovered your very own superpower: leaping from one silly comment to another in a single bound.
"I can't let you sleep on the couch," I tell him after a moment's reflection.
"Oh." He starts to get up. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll just go -"
Quickly, I grab his arm. Don't leave! That's not what I meant! You'd think that, since I'm a reporter, I'd be able to put my thoughts across properly. Well, I guess not. Probably explains why Clark is always editing my copy.
"No, no!" I say, pulling down on his arm slightly. "I mean I can't let you sleep on the couch. You'd be much too uncomfortable on this thing."
"I don't mind," he immediately tells me. "Really." He sits down again and turns towards me, except now he's looking towards the kitchen.
"Well, I do!" There's no way I'm going to let him sleep on my loveseat. Even I wouldn't want to sleep there! "It's too small and much too hard."
"The floor will do fine, then." He says it like it's the most logical, most natural thing in the world.
"No, no, no! That's completely out of the question." I'll be damned I'm going to let him sleep on the floor! I'm no Martha Stewart for sure, but I most certainly know how to treat guests. "You can sleep in my bed tonight."
"Lois, no. I couldn't do that!" he protests. "Where would that leave you?"
Oh. Good point. How did that not occur to me? Seriously, you'd think half my brain cells have gone missing or something. What to do? Well, there is one other possibility… I swallow hard. I can't believe I'm going to suggest this… "It's, um, it's a big bed. We… uh… we could… share?"
His jaw drops. Oh, damn it, what have I done? He probably thinks I'm making a pass at him or something. Gee, Lois, you could really win awards for your quick judgment tonight!
"Not like that," I rush to explain. "I'm sorry, it's like I'm going out of my way to make you feel awkward. I wasn't implying anything. I just meant… you know… you sleep on one side; I'll sleep on the other. Nothing else, I swear."
"Are you absolutely sure?" I know my suggestion obviously made him uncomfortable, but… oh, he's so cute when he's embarrassed. He seems just a little less distant, a little less steely and perfect — more human.
"Yeah, I'm sure. Besides, I… I trust you."
For a quick second he gets a sweet and shy little look, somewhat like the one Clark gets when I catch him staring at me from across the newsroom. It makes me want to reach out and hug him. That's a thought. Perhaps he'd like a hug? Would that make him feel better? No, wait, that might make things awkward later. I'd better keep my hands to myself for now. Not that I'd ever take advantage of him. I wouldn't dare.
"OK, then," he says, smiling at my kitchen cabinets again. I'd like to turn his head in my direction just a little bit; it would make it a lot easier to have a conversation with him. But I'm afraid that might seem rude.
"Just… you can never, ever breathe a word of this to Clark," I tell him, blushing all the way to my ears. He tilts his head to the side a little bit and raises an eyebrow. I sigh. Guess I'm going to have to explain. "It's just… last year. You remember, the tsunami you saved us from?"
"Yeah?"
Is it me or is that a twinkle in his eye? Must be just my imagination. He couldn't possibly know what I'm getting at. Unless Clark's told him? But what possible reason would Clark have had to discuss our sleeping arrangements at the Lexor with Superman? Then again, what do I know of the things grown men talk to each other about?
"Clark and I were on a stakeout assignment at the Lexor hotel. We were posing as a married couple." Why am I blushing as I'm telling him this? "Anyway… um… there's only one bed in the Honeymoon Suite, you realize. I mean, it would make absolutely no sense to have more than one, would it? Anyway, so, uh… Clark suggested we should, you know, flip for the bed. To decide who got to use it? Well, I'd already decided that I was going to be sleeping there and not him."
I'm blushing even more, though this time it's because I feel a little bit ashamed. I should have been nicer to Clark. I should have agreed to a coin toss. Who knows, I might have won it anyway.
"So, I said no," I continue. "There was no way I'd flip for the bed. That's when, um… he suggested we should share. Hey, if my bed is big, you should have seen that one. It's not a bed, it's an amusement park, that thing. Anyway, I refused. So… um… you know… I just don't want him to take offense or anything. You won't tell him, right? I can count on you?"
"I'll never tell."
"Because, I mean… it's not the same thing at all. See, you're… well, you. And… well, it's just not the same thing at all. I think he's already a bit jealous of you, you know. Oh, god. Don't tell him I said that either." Why is it that I just can't seem to shut up? Don't I know when to quit. Ever? I'm babbling myself right into a corner here.
"Jealous?" He chuckles a little bit. At least, I think that's supposed to be a chuckle?
"I… think so." I sigh. "I wouldn't even give him the time of day at first. And then you showed up and… oh, let's just say, I might have gone out of my way to ignore him." I sigh again and my chest tightens a little bit — I've never been very nice to Clark and I really am sorry for that. See, I'm very efficient when it comes to not seeing what's right under my nose. He's a good guy. A great guy, really. If I hadn't been so shallow and blind, then maybe… You know, if anyone's jealous of anyone else, I'm not so sure it's him. "Then again… I'm probably wrong. He's been seeing Mayson Drake, lately. But then I guess you probably knew that, right?"
"The assistant DA?" There's an undertone of surprise in his voice. I nod, before I remember that he can't see me doing it. He speaks again before I have a chance to say anything out loud. "I wouldn't be so sure," he says softly and it's almost reassuring to hear him say that. But I'm pretty convinced that he's just trying to make me feel better.
"Are you hungry?" I ask, getting up. I desperately need to change the subject to something that's not directly related to my partner.
"No. Uh, I'm not hungry, thank you. And I'll try not to impose on you past tonight. It's probably temporary. And I'm sure everything will be fine by tomorrow."
He swings his arm towards the edge of the loveseat and hits the lamp that's on the table right next to it. The lamp takes a tumble and breaks into tiny little pieces. It's just as well; I never really liked that lamp anyway.
"Yeah. I'm sure you're absolutely right." I sound about as convinced of that as he did a second ago. I do really hope it's only temporary, though. Poor, sweet man. "And you're not imposing." I wish I knew the right words to say to make him feel better, but for now, that's about the best I can manage.
***
This is so very strange. I used to daydream about this — Superman in my bedroom… in my bed! Of course, in my mind it was a nice, romantic scene. He'd carry me in his arms, gently lay me down on the bed and… well, in my dream, neither of us got much sleep at all.
The reality is that I had to lead him here, slowly and carefully, to avoid running into walls or breaking more lamps. I helped him into bed and pulled the covers over him, just like I would for a child or someone sick. I considered changing into my pajamas, but I'm a little too self-conscious, I suppose. Won't be the first time I've slept in my clothes, anyway. When I finally slipped into bed, I made sure it was between the sheet and the comforter. This way, there's the sheet between us at all times. It's not a very big barrier, but I feel as though any is better than none. The bottom line is that there's absolutely nothing even remotely romantic about all of this.
And as for sleep, well I'm not sure I'll get much of that, but that's just because it's an awkward situation. I wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable if I moved around in my sleep and accidentally crossed that imaginary line that splits the bed into two sides. I'm not exactly used to sharing my bed with anyone. In fact…
"You know," I start saying, before my mind is fast enough to stop me, "I've had this bed for years, yet no one — and I mean no one — has ever slept in it with me." Oh, rats. Why'd I have to go and tell him that? Don't I know by now that there are some secrets that should remain just that, secrets? "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that. You probably think I'm pretty pathetic now, don't you?"
He hesitates for a second, as if he's weighing his answer. "I don't think it's pathetic at all," he says, finally.
He doesn't? Well, I sure do. Not to mention this isn't what I imagined would happen the first time I shared this bed with someone. This isn't exactly who I imagined, either. Well, OK, I most definitely have imagined waking up next to Superman, after a night of hot, passionate lovemaking. But I haven't really thought about him that way in a while. Actually, I've mostly been thinking —
"If it makes you feel any better, I've never shared anyone's bed," he confesses, interrupting my train of thought. He hasn't? Really? Surely he's just saying that — it can't be true! Then again, Superman never lies, does he?
"Oh. I thought… I just imagined, women throw themselves at you and…" I don't know what I was thinking, really. "I'm sorry, I'd assumed that… Never?" Oh, right, go ahead and ask, why don't you. Make the man feel as uncomfortable as you possibly can. Seriously, why is it that I always manage to say things before I've taken the time to think at all?
"I'm not from around here, Lois. Things are a little different, complicated, for me. I mean, not that I couldn't… you know… Just I've never…"
I'm totally kicking myself for forcing him to admit such a thing to me. "It's all right," I say, as encouragingly as I can. I switch off the light and turn around to face him. "You don't have to explain. I understand." I really do. Hopefully, he believes me when I say that.
He gives me a grateful smile. In the glow of the moonlight pouring through my window, he looks so vulnerable. It's hard to imagine that this is the same man who's destroyed an asteroid, prevented a tsunami, and fought off countless foes in the past year or so since he arrived in Metropolis. I'm overcome by a wave of tenderness and I can't help myself — I reach a little closer to him and just barely brush my lips against his forehead.
"Goodnight," I whisper, before I turn to face the wall.
"Goodnight, Lois," he whispers back as he gently strokes my arm.
I close my eyes and fight against a sigh that's trying to escape me. For over a year, I've dreamt of exactly this. Just precisely this. You'd think I'd feel overjoyed, or fulfilled. Or something. But right this second, as insane as it sounds, the only thing I'm thinking… is that I wish I were with Clark, instead.
THE END
Bottom Dweller's Notes:
I can't even begin to explain how excited I was to be assigned Sue's request for the ficathon. But, at the same time, it was an enormous challenge for me to undertake! …not to mention how insanely hard it was to keep my big mouth shut about it — just you try and make excuses sound logical when she keeps asking if you're done and if you're ever going to send the story for her to beta!! (Of course, I only made matters worse for myself by whining to *her* that I'd gotten a really hard story to write! Heh. Sue, you know I love you to bits, but your request was so darn specific, I honestly did have nightmares about not being able to write the thing!)
These are the details of the request.
Three things I want in my fic:
1. Lois/Superman conversation where each reveals a secret (but not THE secret) to the other
2. Takes place during "The Eyes Have It" — Superman blind and staying on her couch
3. *One* very short kiss (and it doesn't have to be on the lips — forehead, cheek, wherever — keep it chaste, brief and waffy)
Notice, by the way, how I managed to throw a bat in there. Bwahaha! When I saw that in the script, I absolutely could not help myself. Hey, it's not *my* fault they put it in there. I just used it, because… you know… there was no way I could just leave that there and NOT use it.