andrmda

“is this a party i didn’t know about?” you ask, your tone already biting. “why is lane at your desk?”

the sound of your voice forces kent’s head up, his eyes meeting yours carefully. lois glances at him, then speaks. “i was just reviewing and editing clark’s article. he just finished it today, before deadline. i think it’ll meet your standards.”

your eyebrow twitches vaguely, a sign of annoyance or maybe interest. no one can really tell. “i’ll be the judge of that. kent, email me the article. now, please.”

he’s nodding before you can even say ‘please’, fumbling to open his inbox. “yes ma’am.” the sound of clicking fills the room once more, and although the source is clark’s computer keys rather than your heels, people still find themselves on edge. “it’s sent.”

“i know. i watched you, kent,” you remark dryly, folding your arms as you continue to linger. “interesting title.”

“you like it?” kent asks, head tilting back so he can see your face. he’s not sure why, not sure what he expected: a radiant smile? a sudden blush? the expression you’re wearing is the same “you’re lucky i’m listening” look you always seem to sport when talking to reporters. perry white seems to be the only person at work who can coax something less intimidating out of you.

“that’s to be determined. it’s eye-catching, at least. interesting,” you reply, “your work or lane’s?”

“a little bit of both,” lois answers, slipping her hands into the pockets of her work pants.

a scoff escapes you. “it’s a title, not a baby. i’m guessing it’s yours, then, lois. sounds like your work, anyways.” you pause, only to allow your lips ample time to curl into a smirk while your eyes sharpen. “i think it’s cute, how you help kent. really, i do. you make a good team.”

“cute?” clark’s eyes widen in surprise, his cheeks warming. his eyes dart to lane’s—does she know…?

meanwhile, lois busy trying to relax her suddenly tense jaw, her gaze focused on yours. she’s never been shy about eye contact; you’ve always silently enjoyed that aspect of her. “thank you.”

“just don’t get too dependent on each other, i don’t want your writing voices blending. i’d hate to split you up,” you go on, gesturing to a desk far off, “kent somewhere over there while you stay here, lane. i’d hate that. you know?” your shoulders move animatedly as you suck in a short breath, breathing in the tension more than the oxygen in the room. “good thing i won’t have to. you two always listen, don’t you? you both tend to take feedback well.”

“thank you,” lane repeats, replying just as clark says thank you as well, forming an accidental unison.

your smirk grows. no, no, kent’s sure it’s softened, now. lois notices, too. your tone is still sharp, but your lips are curled with less malice and more amusement. “i’ll have my notes on the article sent to you by tomorrow morning, kent. lane, please see olsen about those photos for your upcoming front pager. it’s a promising piece; i’d like promising photos to match it.” briefly, you look at clark. then, at lois. then, you’re off, stalking towards another reporter’s desk to remind them of a rapidly approaching deadline.

“how many compliments was that?” clark asks, allowing himself to slouch as he turns to lois.

lane gives a quiet hum, her brows furrowed in reflection. “three? and a threat, technically. she even smiled, kind of. i didn’t think she could do that.”

“i saw that, too,” kent murmurs. he sits up a little when he hears your heels again, although this time you’re merely passing by on your way to the second floor.

the couple happens to fall into an accidental synchronization again as you return to your office upstairs, their eyes landing on your back before trailing down. motion always attracts the human eye, and the nearly knee length pencil skirt you’re wearing has no issue with showing off the natural movement of your hips and ass as you walk. lois and clark’s heads tilt to the side simultaneously, clark’s eyebrows knitting while lois squints slightly, their gazes focused on your backside.

lane finally swallows. “that’s a nice skirt she’s wearing today.”

“yeah,” kent breathes out, the word almost inaudible as it leaves his lips. “that’s a nice shade of… black.”

“right. right…”

what’s the saying? hate to see you go, love to watch you leave?

there’s a hierarchy at the daily planet, a tried and true social system that ensures all articles get published on time and without errors. there’s lois lane, a clever woman who’s never met a challenge she couldn’t handle and whose pieces oftentimes spark waves of social commentary… there’s clark kent, a kind man who sees the good in everyone and gets to the (typically local) heart of issues more easily than most… and, above them both, there’s you, the shark of the daily planet that they can’t help but find interesting.

managing editor “shark” reader... let me know if you're fucking with it, i'll drop a moodboard & write more for her. i kinda like the office cunt vibes and i love writing lois & clark x reader.