By Kaethel <Kaethel@wanadoo.fr>
Submitted: May 2002
Summary: At the end of the episode "Pheromone, My Lovely," Lois is extremely annoyed by Clark's insistence that she admit her attraction to him. But her exaggerated dismissal of her feelings obviously doesn't convince her partner…and maybe not even herself.
This one was written in response to the episode extension challenge Wendy posted to the fic list. For some reason, Pheromone, My Lovely immediately came to my mind, and I jotted down this story the same night. I hope you'll enjoy it. :)
Many thanks to my BRs, Wendy Richards and LabRat, for their great input, to the readers on the boards and fic list for their encouraging comments, and to Carol Malo for her edits. :)
Feedback is very welcome at Kaethel@wanadoo.fr
He was staring at her. Lois knew it even without looking his way, and his shameless persistence was making her patience wear thin. She could feel his intense gaze roaming her back as she poured herself a cup of strong coffee, and, much to her irritation, she felt compelled to take a careful breath before she turned around to sit across from him.
She returned his look, determined not to let out the tiniest sign of the disquiet still troubling her, even twelve hours after the end of that humiliating episode. Where on earth had she gotten the idea to perform the dance of the seven veils in front of her partner? What the heck was the 'dance of the seven veils', anyway? Some kind of seduction set-up for sure, but where she'd learned it from remained a mystery. She could probably blame Lucy — before she'd left Metropolis a couple of months ago, her sister had developed an obsession with teaching Lois the tricks to make men fall at your feet.
Well, it had worked. Almost. Thank god, she'd come to her senses before it led…wherever it could have led, and…and she did *not* want to think about this. Oh, god, she'd practically begged him to take her to bed and spend the rest of his life loving her the way she loved him and…oh, god…
She fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and let out a sour growl when the object of her most secret thoughts spoke up with that particular tone in his voice that told her he was smirking.
"Your problem, Lois, is that you can't admit your true feelings."
Smirking! Clark Kent was really smirking at her! And whatever did he mean, she couldn't admit her true feelings? There weren't even any feelings whatsoever to begin with! But, as usual, her attempt at retrieving some kind of dignity was being spoiled by that partner of hers. She'd just been making small talk over the endless possibilities triggered by Miranda's perfume, and he *had* to steer the conversation back to unruly waters! It was so unfair…and *so* typical!
"That's ridiculous!" she exclaimed defensively and immediately focused her entire attention on the two packs of sugar she was pouring into her steaming mug. To hell with her usual tasteless brew; she needed something strong and sweet right now. Anything to keep her mind off the horrible consequences of her earlier uncontrolled actions.
Clark was still staring at her. He wouldn't let it go; she should have known he was just as stubborn as she was. Worse, even. But she was adamant that no one could beat her at this game, and today would be no exception.
"All right," she finally admitted, annoyance creeping into her voice as she spoke. He'd decided to make her feel uncomfortable? Well, all right, fair enough. But she wouldn't concede that easily; oh, he would like that, wouldn't he? Knowing she'd felt such an irrepressible attraction to him. Knowing she'd have done anything for his love. That he'd had her at his mercy, if just for a few hours. Yeah right. Not in this life, buster! she snorted, ignoring the warning voice that scolded her lack of honesty on the matter. "Maybe. Somewhere. Buried incredibly deep inside me, is some…eensy weensy, microcosmic, although highly unlikely possibility that I feel some sort of…unmotivated, completely unrealistic attraction to you."
His chuckle was almost enough to release the fury bubbling up inside her, but he wouldn't be so lucky. Angering her was exactly what he was trying to do, and she wouldn't give him that kind of pleasure. He wanted to play nasty? Fine. But he'd soon discover who was best at that game.
"As long as you're being honest with yourself, Lois."
"Well," she continued, deliberately ignoring his patronizing and extremely sarcastic tone. "I even figured out why I was so blind as to think that you look like Superman." She took a careful sip of her coffee, though she never let his face out of her sight, intent as she was on his every reaction.
His expression remained unreadable. "Oh, really…and why was that?"
"Simple!" she explained without blinking. "Every woman in love thinks their man looks like Superman."
She got up to leave and let him ponder that thought, but his hand on her arm stopped her short. Her gaze fell on the fingers resting on the sleeve of her tailored suit and trailed up to the face of her now very serious partner. Too serious…how had this conversation turned serious? Why hadn't anyone warned her that Clark wouldn't let her have the last word as he usually did?
Panic took hold of her as she realized she couldn't move out of his grasp. He wasn't holding her tightly at all, but her limbs refused to comply with common sense and take her as far away from him as possible. His touch was paralyzing her, and the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at her made her knees go weak.
"Why don't you let me be yours?" The question, though voiced with that teasing hint that characterized their friendly banter, was suddenly taking on a whole new meaning. A meaning Lois wasn't sure she felt very comfortable with.
He stood up, the motion bringing their bodies close, so very close, and Lois struggled with the wild desire to take a step backwards. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the warmth of his breath on the skin of her cheek. His nearness was beckoning her, and she was grateful for his support when his strong hands rested at her waist.
Grateful, until she became aware of the situation it put them in and had to beg her knees to hold her upright. Collapsing now would make her end up pressed hard against Clark's body, and much as part of her — a part that was best left ignored, she decided — saw definite advantages to such a possibility, her mind was screaming a warning and flashing red alarms at her.
The perfume's effect should have worn off already! It had, hadn't it? After all, she'd been horrified this morning when Clark had wrapped his arms around her waist — much in the same fashion as he was now — and whispered huskily that he was hers if she wanted him.
And now…now he wanted to be hers again. He wanted what she'd refused a mere twelve hours earlier, and…and she didn't feel sickened by the thought. On the contrary, dozens of images were pouring through her mind, each more vivid than the last, and she was slowly, inexorably leaning towards him.
Her last coherent thought as her eyelids fluttered closed and her lips finally touched his was that she'd been tricked at her own game.
Clark's stillness brought her consciousness back online, and for a horrendous moment, she feared she'd read the signs wrongly, that he wasn't attracted to her as he'd claimed so adamantly after they'd figured out why the perfume had affected everyone at the Planet…well, almost everyone.
But it was only a nanosecond before he was returning the firm pressure of her mouth on his. As he let his lips caress hers in a sensual game of give and take, Lois mentally kicked the doubts out of her mind. If he wasn't attracted to her, he was making a really bad job of proving his point, especially when one of his hands was roaming up her back to tangle in her hair and the other was cupping her face, his fingers brushing a soft stroke on her cheek as he kissed her.
Their kiss was unhurried at first, but the passion devouring them soon took over, and it wasn't long before Lois gave in to the temptation to explore the broad expanse of his back. She reveled in the pleasure when the aimless circles she was tracing on his taut muscles elicited a strangled gasp from her partner, who deepened the kiss, tugging her into a pool of warmth and love.
When he pulled away, he was looking just as lost as she felt, and this time she was genuinely thankful for the support of his embrace. She rested her forehead against his, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
She'd kissed Clark. Oh god, she'd just kissed *Clark*! She should feel disgusted…no, wait, not disgusted. Clark wasn't someone you could ever feel any disgust for; he was…okay, he was pretty handsome, if you liked that style. All right, he looked good. Great. Gorgeous. Whatever!
The point was…she'd kissed him! And he'd kissed her back! And why wasn't she on the other side of the newsroom, why didn't she feel the need to put some — no, make that a *lot* of distance between them? Why wasn't she handing her resignation letter to Perry and packing for Timbuktu?
The answer was there, right within her reach, in the cocoon-like embrace still surrounding her as Clark held her tight. As frightened by the truth of her feelings as she was, kissing him had at least relieved a weight off her chest, and acknowledging that relief instantly soothed her panic. She didn't have to lie to herself anymore, to hide her innermost feelings from her own conscience. She could just let go.
…and kiss Clark again.
She brought her lips a mere inch away from his, a coy smile breaking on her face as she caught the sparkle of desire in his eyes. "Clark…"
He brushed his lips against hers, triggering a shiver down her spine in response. "Yeah, Lois?"
"Be mine," she whispered fiercely before closing the distance between them.
All right, she mused hazily as she let his lips tenderly caress hers; he'd won at a game she'd been certain she wouldn't lose; but somehow, it didn't seem that important anymore.
After all, there would be time for revenge later…