By Kaethel <Kaethel@wanadoo.fr>
Submitted: May 2003
Summary: Clark *needs* to talk to Lois, but will she accept what he has to tell her, or is she going to be very angry?
Don't ask me where this story came from! It just popped into my head one afternoon and demanded to be written immediately, and I gave in to the Muse's whim. I added an explanation at the end of the file (including it here would spoil the fanfic, so don't rush down there just yet <g>).
Many, many thanks to everyone who commented on this fanfic when I first posted it to the message boards and fic list. It's not my usual type of story, so I was extremely nervous about it. A huge thank you also goes to LabRat for GEing it for the archive.
Feedback is, as ever, extremely welcome. :)
Clark was pacing back and forth the length of his living room floor. Occasionally, a sigh would escape his mouth, a hand would impatiently brush through his hair, and a curse would form and be swallowed before it could make it aloud. Clark had spent the better part of the day drumming his fingers against any desk, table or counter he could find, checking his watch, and reaching for the phone before he changed his mind and stopped mid-dial. But with each aborted attempt at making that phone call, he was getting more and more restless. The minutes ticking by were thinning his chance of preventing the situation from getting bad.
The reason for his disquiet was not new; he had been living in fear for almost two years. Lois Lane was pig-headed, impulsive and reckless. Venturing an opinion when her mind was already set on something could make her even more determined to do the exact opposite of what he suggested. The more he thought — all right, *obsessed* — about it, the more he realised that Lois Lane was bound to drive him nuts.
Their romantic relationship hadn't changed anything in her attitude. Not that he would ever complain; Lois's tendency to throw herself into things without so much as a back-up plan was one of the things that had first attracted him to her. Lois lived for the unexpected. It was no wonder she was about to do something as wild as… he couldn't even bear to form the thought entirely. It was too difficult to take in.
But he loved her no matter what. He loved the way she barged in headfirst and dealt with whatever consequences came up *when* they came up. He loved the way she growled at the obstacles that loomed up in her path when she had grabbed the bit between her teeth. He loved… well, he loved everything about her.
He shook his head. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and he would do anything for her. And that included keeping his personal thoughts to himself. Hadn't he concluded already that talking her into changing her mind was useless anyway? She would remind him that it was none of his business, that she was a free woman and that the new turn in their relationship gave him no right to decide what was best for her. In fact, arguing with her would turn it into even more of a challenge for her. If he got involved, she would weigh the pros and cons even less than she normally would. Jumping in without checking the water level first would become a way to prove to him that she was right and he was wrong.
Maybe it was time he told her the truth. Maybe it would make her think. After all, didn't she deserve to know? Their relationship had turned into so much more than friendship over the past couple of weeks. Certainly that meant they could be honest with each other. *He* could be honest with her. She would be mad as hell if he waited any longer… if he waited until it was too late.
No, she wouldn't be mad, he amended, his heart sinking; she would be *upset*. She would take it as a personal failure, and blame him for keeping things from her.
It was probably best if he braced himself for the inevitable and called her *now*. She would growl, kick and curse, but maybe she would think twice before she did the irreparable. He wouldn't force her out of anything anyway; he would only give his opinion. Nothing more than his *opinion*. Which she would call 'biased'. And all right, he would also recommend she took a few days to think things through. It was enough to get him into so much trouble that even Superman would have hard time getting out of it unscathed.
But he would have his say. And then, she could choose whatever she preferred; she would have the assurance that he would keep loving her, no matter what decision she took.
At least, he wouldn't live with the remorse of never having told her.
Clark stopped his mad pacing, reached for the phone and finally dialled Lois's number in its entirety. Telling her. It was what was important. What she decided to do with the knowledge was entirely her business, but he had to *tell* her.
The grumpy voice of his girlfriend — God, it felt good to think of her that way — sent his heart-rate rocketing. "Lois?"
"No, Clark, you're talking to the Pope."
Yes, definitely grumpy. Maybe he could call back later and…
/And wait till it was too late?!/
He steeled his resolve. "Lois, I need to tell you something."
"Hang on a sec, there's a big Mercedes over there and I *know* the guy's gonna — Hey you!! Did you get your driving licence with a Happy Meal or what?!"
"Lois, you're in your car? Don't you know it's dan —"
"— gerous to drive and phone at the same time," she completed gruffly. "I'm working, Clark. Keep the overprotective stance for my day off, will you?"
"Will you pull in before I tell you what I have to tell you at least?"
"Why? Think I'm gonna have to gesticulate and yell at you? No time anyway. Got my appointment in ten minutes and I'm late. And the monkey in front of me isn't budging! The light's green for Pete's sake! Move!!"
The angry blast of a horn — Lois's, no doubt — pierced Clark's eardrums, and he winced, pulling the phone from his ear for a second.
"Lois, I called to ask you not to do it!"
"Not to do what?"
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Especially if it's just for the sake of a story."
"Clark, I talked to that guy. He's a professional." Her voice was calm — in fact, it was much calmer than he had expected it to be. She seemed barely surprised at his complaint, as if she had known all along that he would try to talk her out of her decision.
"They all say that."
"But this one is really good at what he does. He's never had a complaint in the four years he's been doing the job."
"You *investigated* him?"
"Of course I did! Clark, do you think I would ask some irresponsible guy to do something this important? With this one, I'm sure to get what I want."
"Lois, I know you're going to say it's your life and your choice, but I owe you the truth before you do it."
"What is it, Clark?"
"Please don't yell at me. I know you're not going to be pleased at the news, that you're going to call me overprotective again, and maybe hate me for a few days."
"Spill it, Clark!"
"Lois… please don't let Tank Wilson cut your hair!"
Kaethel@wanadoo.fr March 2003
Post-story explanation: Those of you who don't know who Tank Wilson is are probably wondering what this fanfic is about. <g> Tank, whose great stories can be found on this archive, is famous in the fandom not only for his taste for evil premises, but also for his tendency to cut Lois's hair in every single fanfic he writes. And to urge other authors to do likewise. My own preference for Lois's shoulder- length hair made me write this story as gentle teasing towards Tank. :)