#thirstnotes

No one could've predicted that Clark would actually have gone through with it. Not even he himself. But there he was, standing in a room full of men he never even bothered to even speak to, blood splattered across his chest from their attempt to destroy him.

The Gatling gun was a solid touch too.

Arguably this could've been spun as a case of self defense by any of Bruce's army of lawyers. They'd defended way worse. But really, there was real no reason to involve them, seeing how no one was left alive and no one was going to report lack of harassment from the local assholes. So it was win/win.

Bruce's dirty work was done. By someone willing to kill.

More specifically willing to kill for you, but semantics.

He picked up what Bruce asked for, looked at his phone and started typing.

Done.

It wasn't long before he got a response.

That was quick.

They weren't too bright.

They never are. Anyway, assuming you're headed to her apartment, I think it's wise to let you know that Y/N isn't there at the moment.

Clark stopped mid-flight.

Bruce's phone began ringing. Bruce exhaled.

"Where is she, Bruce?"

"She's at a high-rise on my side of town. A colleague of mine is entertaining her."

He neglected to tell him that Jason had her with him. Given Jason's record, Clark was likely to panic even more. Granted, telling him it was a colleague of his probably didn't ease his thoughts. It was quiet for a moment on his end before the phone hung up.

Shit.

He was angry. Angry and homicidal. He had to get to Jason first.

Which was going to be a challenge since Clark was now heading in that direction.

Broken shards of his phone rained into the river he flew over as he sped towards Gotham. He had no idea what Bruce had planned, but he was furious. Why did he feel the need to have you taken from your apartment when he'd already decided to do what Bruce had asked? He was doing far too much.

Had he not have crushed his phone he could've asked about why you were taken

Maybe Bruce didn't know about it

Then again, Bruce usually knew about everything.

So he didn't want to hear it.

He'd had enough of Bruce's bullshit.

As had you.

You eyed the masked man sitting across from you. He seemed very amused by your anger towards him. At that point, you hadn't said anything more to each other after his talk with Bruce, but he seemed pretty content about it. He was pretty well armored, so hitting him with anything in the room was probably useless. That and his reflexes were probably on point if he worked with Batman, so you knew it was useless to try.

In the first place, if he worked with Batman, he must have been a "good guy", so it was strange that he had decided to kidnap you. But you didn't know the motivations or morals of superheroes. In the back of your mind, you reminded yourself about Clark and his intent to "steal" Lois from what'shisface.

Y'all know his name

Anyway, it reminded you that Clark was just as human-like as the rest of you, despite his alien origins. He often hinted that Bruce was dangerous, but maybe your bae was dangerous too.

No, he was definitely dangerous

The thought of it excited you more than you wanted to admit. A powerful, deity-like being choosing you to be his everything didn't sound like a bad deal, but you had never really considered the baggage that came with it. It was also terrifying.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he interrupted in a tone that suggested he was definitely smirking. Your eyes rolled to him, but rolled back to the window that you half expected Clark to crash through any moment.

"Just thinking. What are you getting out of all this? Why abduct me for Bruce when you know 'Golden Boy' is probably gonna kill you for it?"

"So you acknowledge you're important to him. Interesting," he said in the same tone which made you want to smack him.

"You wouldn't have taken me if you knew I wasn't, so cut the shit. What's this whole thing about?" you demanded in a less edgy tone, as you did when you conducted your interviews.

"If I haven't made it abundantly clear, it's about you and Bruce. Like I said, you've been driving him to distraction. So much that his focus has been on Metropolis lately. Which isn't a problem, unless you're Gotham's protector. Whether you know it or not, you're a liability for us unless..."

"I'm here," you said, completing his thought. You couldn't believe this stupid ass plan. Was he seriously planning to make you choose between Clark and Bruce? The whole thing felt incredibly pre-school and immature, but this dude seemed as impulsive as they came. Especially since he was risking life and limb to convince you to choose his favorite.

He seemed content to your understanding of his goal in this, but you were still unsettled as to why he was so calm about a potentially murderous Superman heading there to destroy him and probably everything he loved. Something didn't sit right.

You continued to mull over the thought until your eyes caught a familiar form in the distant sky. Clark. He hadn't seen you yet, but you guessed that all you had to do was say anything aloud and he'd hear you.

"You have something up your sleeve."

It was mostly to catch Clark's attention but it was a genuine theory that you were curious about. He didn't respond, instead looking at his phone. Clark hadn't budged either, but from the looks of things, he hadn't heard you.

"So now you don't have a smartass retort?" you provoked a bit louder, trying to catch his attention. You had no idea the range Clark could hear at, but apparently it wasn't as far as you thought.

"I mean, I could mention how your ploy to catch his attention isn't working, but I think you might be figuring that part out already," he said, still looking at his phone.

You're eyes flickered between him and the window. True enough, Clark hadn't budged, but you were realizing it wasn't because you were out of range.

"I'm broadcasting a high pitched frequency from several places that only he can hear. It doesn't do much, but it makes it a bitch to try and find you by listening for your voice. But seeing how he does that whole x-ray bullshit, I'd say we have a few minutes longer to hang out."

Your eyes floated to the phone in his hand, which was in a heavy, most likely shatterproof, case. He put it back into his arm plate, which closed it off from your access, so there was no point in trying for that either. Your blood boiled.

No. There was no use in losing your temper.

That'd only give him more of the upper hand. He expected that of you

You damn sure weren't in the habit of giving assholes what they wanted

You took a deep breath, straightening the skirt of your dress as you sat back in your seat. "Say I do choose Bruce. What's to say I don't change my mind?"

He was hesitant at your sudden cooperative shift. "Not my business. I'm only here to set the stage for you to choose. Bruce is a big boy. If you say enough, he'll back off."

You raised a brow. "If he's such a 'big boy', why'd you do all this instead of letting him approach me instead?"

Sensing you were levelling with him, he plopped down across from you again. "Bruce drags his ass. Especially when it comes to women. Sometimes drastic measures have to be taken to force his hand. To be honest, Bruce is the only choice here. Either you choose him, or I put an end to all this right now."

You didn't like the sound of "put an end to all this"

Not because of the grammatical phrasing either

His tone implied he had plans to keep you from "distracting" Bruce ever again

Was it really that deep???

Your eyes rolled to the side. "With friends like you-"

"Shit gets done," he finished, subtle laugh slipping from behind his mask.

As if on cue, the wall behind him violently seemed to be blown to pieces. The pictures and lamps fell with a helpless crash while you ducked as best you could on the sofa, covering your head for added protection. You were vaguely aware of your captor hovering a bit closer, shielding your unarmored body from any debris--not something a person bent on unaliving you might be concerned with--but your eyes were mostly focused on the figure walking through the hole in the penthouse.

"Clark," you breathed, a relieved feeling rushing over you. However, the Clark you knew wasn't there. This was Superman. A very pissed off Superman. His cold gaze swept over the armored man in front of you.

"Get away from her," he demanded, his tone sharper and colder than you'd ever heard from him. You've heard him be sarcastic, even a little cold and vindictive. But this. This was deadly.

"Easy, Flyboy. I haven't laid a single finger on her," Jason smirked.

He didn't respond. Instead, using his lightning speed, his powerful grip was around the man's throat, lifting him from the floor. You watched, polarized by the sight, unsure if he was bluffing or really about to snap his neck.

Sure, he'd abducted you and put you there and part of you was thinking he got what he deserved

But you didn't really want to see him die for it

Though, something wasn't right. Clark stumbled and his grip weakened around his throat until he'd dropped him altogether.

"Clark?!" you gasped, rushing to his side as the Red Hood corrected himself and caught his breath.

"See now that....That's why I prepared this little contingency," he said, one of the compartments in his wrist gauntlet overturned and revealing a glowing green stone in it. Kryptonite.

You'd heard and written about it's effects before, but it was the first time you'd seen it first hand. It looked radioactive almost. It was a sickening green, but you weren't the one feeling its effects. It was Clark.

His breathing was steady, but he looked drained, his forearms shaking from exposure to even that small bit. The chamber rotated shut again and Clark looked to breathe normally.

"You okay?"

He flashed you a soft, but brief smirk. "Are you okay?"

"A little rattled, but nothing I can't handle," you joked smoothly, not wanting the masked asshole to think he'd gotten the best of you.

Jason straightened himself and plopped on the sofa across from the both of you again.

"Now. Since I have your attention-"

"Jason," Bruce's voice called from across the room with every authority of a father. Jason didn't seem deterred a bit. In fact, he relaxed further into his chair.

"Bout time you got here."

"What you're doing isn't necessary," Bruce said evenly. Not unlike someone talking someone from a ledge.

You got the sense that you were a subject that was talked about before, though you didn't really know the context.

This time, he took his mask off, his eyes fiercely aimed at Bruce. He tossed a bitter chuckle at him.

"It's not necessary? Funny, for a while there, I thought this little tryst was all you seemed to fuckin' care about. You couldn't even come to see her when she called you."

You looked between them. Was he referring to Selena Kyle? Whoever that was.

Bruce exhaled. "I was busy-"

"Right. We're all supposed to understand how you piss off to play playboy while she's fighting for her life right now-"

You jumped when he screeched suddenly, his body stiffening as a jolt of electricity hit him. As he collapsed, a smaller, curvier form stood just behind him, taser in hand. Catwoman.

"Tantrum's over, Junior," she said, stepping over his body and meeting Bruce across the room.

"I might've known you'd keep your eye on him," Bruce said, eyeing her with an eerily similar look he was giving you in the park.

Your reporter senses were tingling, sensing the obvious history the two of them had.

The soap opera had taken a sudden left turn

At this point you didn't care anymore

You had a headache

(was Jason okay, or...?)

(he's breathing. it's fine.)

"So I take it the dress-" Bruce said, his eyes flickering over to you. You suddenly felt self conscious and exposed being brought back into the conversation.

"His idea, my execution. I mean. I couldn't very well let him undress an unconscious woman like a creep," she said.

You found yourself liking Catwoman quite a bit

Of course, you wondered why she'd help him if she knew what he was doing was wrong in the first place

But, truly like a cat, she had her own logic and reasons

Still, you were relieved that Jason hadn't seen all your business while you were out cold

"After I heard he was speeding off towards Metropolis, I couldn't bring myself to let him make a dumbass of himself. Call it a favor for my favorite Bat," she winked, though he looked less than amused to be owing her anything. She tapped the tip of his nose before exiting through the generous hole in the room made by Clark.

Then it was quiet. You helped Clark to his feet, though he seemed to be regaining his strength fairly quickly after the stone was securely back inside Jason's armor.

"You must think the worst of me," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair.

"I never really though much of you to begin with, but I'm sure you have an explanation," Clark said, still sounding thoroughly pissed.

Though not homicidal, so that was something

Bruce seemed to be wrestling with idea of telling you everything, but given the situation, it couldn't be helped. Jason had forced his hand.

"Strange's goons poisoned Barbara with a synthetic drug."

"I'm guessing that's why you needed this," Clark said, handing Bruce a vial.

Bruce took it, immediately scanning it with his watch. "The compounds in the poison is the only way to create an antidote. She left a tracker with one of them as they fled the scene and it pinpointed them being in the outskirts of Metropolis. Going in alone might've meant suicide, or worse, them smashing the vial. I needed to send someone they weren't expecting."

Your eyes drifted to Clark, who looked to have simmered down considerably. He was definitely not someone you'd expect. Your eyes swept down his solid form in his blood-stained spandex- Wait...

Did he kill for that vial?

When you'd imagined Superman, you always pictured a dude that always knocked out bad guys and sent them to jail, not to the cemetery

"What did you do?" you asked quietly, turning towards him. He didn't look at you immediately, instead taking a deep breath.

“When I saw you two on the street, I knew it was the perfect way to get him to do what I needed,” Bruce spoke up, sounding oddly like he was trying to defend him.

Clark’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Bruce didn’t say anything more, surrendering the situation to him.

Clark turned to you, his eyes softening considerably.

You knew what he wanted to say. What he was ashamed to admit. But you were done.

“Take me home," you said before he could even find the words to offer.

He quietly lifted you in his arms and effortlessly sailed from the window, leaving Bruce and Jason behind.

That night was too satisfying to be real

You were deliciously sore from being in positions you hadn't been in for months

Farm boy had some moves

Sorry

Superman*

You woke to the smell of breakfast. Bacon and coffee specifically. Your tummy rumbled as you rose, running the details of last night through your mind over and over. It was a simple equation, but you just couldn't comprehend it:

Clark wanted you.

+

Clark was Superman.

=

Superman wanted you.

It lingered in your mind as you took a quick shower. What even was this? Had Clark been making a statement, or was he just horny after all the kissing, touching and pretending at class yesterday? You didn't know what to think.

Even if he did have feelings for Lois, what happened last night was clearly an explosion of shared tension between you. It was an explosion of something.

The heavy feeling of irony hit you as you walked quietly up the hall and caught sight of him standing at the stove. It felt so domestic and normal. Which was the last thing you thought a morning with Superman would be.

He didn't look up, but his lips twitched into his usual smirk as he plated the rest of the food.

It was quite the spread

French toast sticks, pancakes, bacon, eggs, donuts from your favorite bakery

It was like he was trying his best to put his best foot forward

It was kind of odd to see him so eager to please someone other than Lois

It almost made you want to forget how annoyed you were with him for not telling you his secret sooner

almost

But you weren't sweating it too much

After all, you understood why

It didn't stop you from being annoyed

But you understood

"I didn't know what you might want, so I made a few options," he said with a shrug, eyes flickering between you and the table.

So cute.

You bit back a laugh, not wanting to seem rude.

"It's...a lot. But it's fine," you half-joked, reaching for a piece of bacon. He watched your reaction quietly, pleased when you hummed in approval and took another bite.

"Sleep well?"

"You tell me," you shot back, rolling your eyes, though your small smirk betraying you. You couldn't stop smiling and you knew he noticed.

"I'd say you did, but I think that'd be bragging to some degree, wouldn't it?" he sassed, pouring some orange juice and adding it to the table.

You laughed as you sat down, a hint of hoarseness in the sound also betraying your reaction.

"Maybe a lil bit. Where'd a nice dude like you learn to use your mouth like that anyway?" you asked, feeling an ache between your thighs at the mention of his mouth.

"The truth? Eating peaches," he laughed saucily, taking a bite of a bagel.

You couldn't help but cackle at that. "Seriously?"

"Mmh. Very similar," he hummed, taking a sip of juice. He paused, as though remembering something important, and dug something from his pocket. Your phone--correction--your cracked phone, was vibrating as he handed it to you.

"Oh shit, I totally forgot," you gasped, inspecting the damage, "Thanks."

Last night was such a blur, you'd forgotten you'd even dropped it

He must have gotten it after you'd fallen asleep.

"Someone's called you three times, back to back," he said, his eyes rolling back to his breakfast, "Gonna assume it's your boyfriend."

You felt your heart leap a bit. It was unclear if it was guilt or excitement. Maybe it was the way he said it. "He's not my boyfriend."

His eyes met yours again. "Does he know that?"

You couldn't confirm to be honest, but you didn’t want him to know that. "I'm pretty sure he does. We never agreed to a relationship."

"I'm no expert, but I think tickets to Prague is a pretty solid step in that direction," he said, sipping water this time. You gawked at him with an astonished laugh.

"Okay, Mr. Man of Steel. First of all. No more using your powers to spy on me."

"Noted," he said, arms folded, smirk still solidly in place. It wasn't a confirmation that he wasn't going to, but at least he knew it annoyed you. He watched you patiently for the next item on the list and you scrounged your brain to find it.

"Second. Bruce is not my boyfriend." He rolled his eyes at that, but you continued anyway. "Even if I do go to Prague with him."

"Whatever helps you sleep," he laughed again with a skeptical snort that irked you.

“I- You know what? Why am I even explaining this to you?!”

“Beats me,” he shrugged, getting up and rounding the table. His eyes held yours as he did so, and he seemed a lot like a predator stalking his prey.

You kinda liked it.

He loomed over you, propping his hands on the back of your chair and the edge of the table, dipping in just low enough to hover just beyond your lips. “Maybe you’re getting defensive because you feel like you’re cheating.”

You looked like a goldfish, trying to find your will to argue. At the last minute, as he pulled back with his irritatingly sexy smirk, you’d found it.

“I just-It’s not cheating if I’m not dating anybody.”

He hummed at that, rounding your chair and walking over to the tv to switch it off. "You don't have to convince me. I agree. In fact, I personally feel like the further you are away from that guy, the better.”

You had to wonder why he hated Bruce so much, but you decided against asking, since you probably weren’t going to get a straight answer anyway

Besides, your mind was more preoccupied with how sinful he looked in a simple tee and sweats

“But,” he continued, sitting back across from you, taking another generous sip of water, “I support whatever you wanna do. It’s your life. Whatever you two do is your business.”

“I appreciate that,” you said, glad he wasn’t trying to tell you who you could allow in your life. Because Superman or not, he would’ve caught it. Still, the aesthetic of Clark being jealous made your body simmer with a little bit of excitement.

“That said, whatever happens between us is our business, right?”

He looked at you expectantly and you had an eerie sense of deja vu from when he'd asked you to be his fake girlfriend in the first place.

"I guess."

A chill ran up your spine and your mind raced with many curious thoughts that fought to stay inside.

A few of which had to do with whether he was trying to fuck you purely to annoy Bruce

Or if he legit felt something for you

Then again, what if it were both?

What if Bruce was making him jealous?

In the incredibly slim chance that he liked you beyond being a fuck buddy

It was stressful not knowing

"You have a question," he said, matter-of-factly, eyes lowering to his breakfast again. He ignored the startled look you gave him in favor of another bite of eggs.

"What makes you say that?"

"I just know."

That was an odd thing to hear

But it made sense considering who you were talking to

He was probably used to that kind of thing

But the fact that he knew you so intimately and said as much so nonchalantly, was kind of strange

But also kind of hot

"Okay...Fine. You're right. I do," you said, now suddenly conscious of the occasional thud in your chest. His pretty blue eyes met yours again curiously and you nearly melted. It was your turn to look back to your breakfast, which you didn't really feel like finishing.

"So is this Lois thing a lie...or did you just change your mind?"

His eyes drifted off to the side as if trying to carefully word it. "I love Lois, yeah. I probably always will," he said and you felt your heart drop a little, hopes a bit dashed.

It wasn't anything new from what you'd thought in the first place

Still, it still stung to hear him say it aloud

Even if you were sitting across from him in nothing but his t-shirt

He continued, but your phone rattling on the surface of the table startled you. Clark's eyes rolled to the side as you checked it.

"Oh."

"Bruce again?"

He gave you a look before you could even ask how he knew that and you were pretty certain that "he just knew".

"Yeah, I just. Finish your thought?" you shrugged, really wanting to hear him out. He paused, taking a deep breath.

"I just really like you," he said, the lingering pause between you making you wonder if there was something more he wanted to say. The way it made him sound like an awkward dork afraid of rejection made you tingle inside. You bit back a laugh and rolled your eyes.

Quite a bit more flustered than you let on

It wasn't LOVE

You didn't have a hold on him like Lois did

But he liked you

You had your answer

For now that was enough

Both of your priorities were clear now

He was comfortable with you like you were with him

"I like you too, Clark," you admitted genuinely. It was a relief to say it directly to him even if it was the understatement of the year.

"What did he want, anyway? Bruce, I mean?" he asked and you were finally back on track with your thoughts.

"He's gonna be in town a few days longer and wanted to know if I wanted to hang out today," was all you supplied. Though you wondered how much more he knew.

A small smirk played at his lips and he sipped his juice. "You wanna take off soon?"

He did say "soon"

It wasn't as if he were hurrying you off or anything

Which was good because you weren't in any hurry to leave

"Actually...I was thinking I could hang out with you today," you said, not really fully knowing yourself where you were going with this.

The implication didn't go over his head either. Even if this was a convenient arrangement for the both of you, that didn't mean you couldn't both enjoy it. His smile grew.

"What'd you have in mind?"

You’ve been at the Daily Planet a little bit longer than Clark, so you knew the ropes before Golden Boy graced you all with his presence

You were a bad bitch, able to cover some of the toughest exclusives. From Aquaman to Static Shock himself

But he started scooping you left and right and it was tap-dancing on your last nerve. Still, you respected how he was able to somehow get the story

You secretly thought he had to be Superman

Bc frfr the man was swole

“Scooped again,” you huffed quietly, packing your bag for the day, eyes flickering to the team congratulating Clark Probably-Superman-Because-What-Reporter-Has-A-Body-Like-That-Kent. You spotted him approaching from the corner of your eye and looked up with an enthusiastic smile.

“Well well. Congrats again, Clark.”

His dashing smirk grew a bit and he dipped his head with a laugh. “Thanks. You almost sounded like you meant it this time. The smile? Nice touch.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” you sassily agreed, a little proud of your own performance and he laughed. You looked out at the office. “Well anyway. Your adoring public awaits.”

“C’mon, YN, we’re going out to celebrate. Have a drink on me.”

He was always really sweet. That was one of the things that kinda bothered you. He was perfect. Funny, gorgeous, smart and a hell of a journalist. You couldn’t even have a serious rivalry with him because he was just genuinely a nice dude.

It was a rivalry you both enjoyed, because you could sass each other on a professional level and still have lunch and debate topics civilly (most of the time) with a mutual respect

Loathe as you were to admit it, you had a lot in common

“Can’t. I have things to do.”

“I promise not to brag much,” he joked, his arms folding expectantly. You rolled your eyes and mimicked his pose, shifting the weight in your hips.

“Clark, as much as I’d love to pour-have a drink on you, I actually have a life outside of The Daily Planet Crew-Heeeey, Luke!”

Clark’s eyes followed yours to the man perched in the doorway. You lit up so much at seeing him, Clark looked back at you with a judgy smirk but you ignored him.

“Hey, you need a ride to class?” Luke asked, looking between you and Clark, who perked up.

“Class?”

“Yeah, no, we do a cooking class together. International Cuisines over on West and Central. You should check it out,” Luke explained and Clark looked moderately impressed.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two were. Are you datin-“

“Oh, um,” you started.

“No, no, no,” he gargled out at the same time and Clark looked between you slowly.

“I mean, it is a couple’s only class, but, like, between us, we kinda fudged the details a little bit when we signed up,” you admitted, your embarrassment growing. It was enough that your secret alone time with the hot photographer was being revealed to Mr. Perfect, but to hear Luke so vehemently refute the implication that you were his girlfriend. In front of him. Of all people. It was too much. You swallowed your feelings and kept it together. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll ride over with you.”

With that Luke continued down the hall to the darkroom. You exhaled and and pulled your bag onto your shoulder.

“Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Clark smirked, rolling his lips, to keep from laughing at the juicy interaction he just witnessed. He watched you lock up and leave, that annoyingly smug smirk on his ridiculously handsome face ever present. You knew he was judging you. Like Damn woman, I knew you were thirsty, but this is next level.

Not like he had room to judge. Lois Lane could wear his balls as a necklace and he’d thank her for her time and energy. You had to respect the hustle, however, because he was just as shameless as you were to get next to his boo. You weren’t mad at that. The struggle was real. Today, however, was a major blow to your pride and progress and honestly you didn’t even know why you even bothered getting into the car, let alone slog through another class next to a man who clearly didn’t see you as anything but a fwb. The benefit being that you were a woman he could finesse a cooking class with.

You were way too fine to be used like that

You knew that

But in a way you were using him to be in the class too. It had limited seats and if word got out that you two weren’t a couple, you’d be put out for sure, so, annoyed and lukewarm (I said what I said) as you were on him now, you were trapped in this one-sided arrangement for now

But damn. Pretending was hard. When that man smiled at you over a perfectly cooked plate of crullers that you both worked hard to make…Hoooo. You were goo. It was pitiful. You hated it, but there you were. Laughing at his corny ass jokes. Joking back. Completely ignoring how he threw your potential relationship under the bus earlier that day. The laughter died down and eventually it was just you two in the car. Him driving you home.

“Hey, you remember when Clark thought we were dating?” you asked, hoping to work around to a genuine conversation about the two of you.

“Woah right? That was close. I mean, not that you aren’t attractive. You’re gorgeous, of course.”

“Of course,” you smirked saucily, chest fluttering at the blatant compliment he was giving. But the other half of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But.”

There it was.

He hesitated, as if trying to find the words. He hazarded a glance your way. “Between us, Lois and I have been dating for a little bit.”

You then throat chopped him, causing him to swerve sharply, sending the car into a spin-out off the nearest bridge, thus killing you both and sparing you the humiliating dread of realizing you wasted your time simping over some dude that Lois Fuckin Lane had already secured between her legs ages ago

Just kidding. That didn’t happen, but you were damn sure thinking about it right then

You were truly at a loss. You were a top flight journalist, you should’ve picked up on it. Something. Anything. Sure, they hung out a bit between meetings, but you all did. Then again, they did spend more than a little time at each other’s desks, smiling and talking. Grabbing lunch or coffee for each other. But you thought it was business. You and Clark did that for each other all the time. Maybe you just ignored the signs.

“Oh. Shit. That’s-That’s great! Is it getting serious?” you asked, kicking yourself for the filler question. He took a deep breath.

“I think so. I mean, it’s going pretty well. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind.”

“Well I’m not gonna spy for you, if that’s what you’re working around to,” you joked hollowly, the sinking pain in your chest making you feel sick and stupid. He laughed and you forced yourself to as well.

“Man, that’s cold,” he chortled and it gave you a petty bit of satisfaction.

“That’s life.*”

‘Biotch’.*

“That’s what people say,” he joked back, quoting the song. Though while he was riding high in April, it was you that was shot down in May. You were relieved when you saw home, nearly opening the door while the car was still in motion. You couldn’t wait to get inside and have a nice hot bath and a stiff drink.

Usually that was your time to unwind and read in the warm candlelight, or even touch yourself, if you felt so inclined to do so, but tonight, you weren’t feeling anything. Much less yourself.

You couldn’t help but think about how Clark was coping with all this. Provided he even knew. You could see him, the absolute Labrador of a man, reduced to nothing me than a kicked puppy at the news of his beloved Lois dating anybody that wasn’t him

Part of you was hoping he was Superman, so he could freak out and smack the shit out of Luke for doing this to you. Well. The petty part of you was kinda hoping

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, you knew that, but you just wanted to feel less like a fool and more like the confident woman you woke up as that morning

The next time you saw Clark, you debated not telling him anything, but you weren’t willing to let anybody go out the way you did. So eventually, over coffee, you broke it to him casually

“I know.”

“S’cuse me?”

“That they’re dating? I already know that,” he said, adding more coffee to his mug to make it less sweet. He was either taking this remarkably well, or he was playing it off like he was totally fine. Which would add amazing acting to his already impressive list of things he could do well.

“Then why are you still fawning all over Lois like it’s Single’s Weekend?”

He laughed with a shrug. “They’re dating, not married. She could change her mind.”

Part of you felt a small spark jolt through you. You always imagined Clark the traditional type. But there he was literally—openly—declaring war on your crush. Threatening to steal his bae.

“Oh. Okay. My bad.”

Part of you was cheering for him to.

“I heard you and Y/N are dating?”

Clark smirked, dusting bagel crumbs off his shirt as he finished his breakfast. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I won’t even entertain the question.”

“Right. The award winning Lois Lane always has the story.”

There was a quiet pause on her end. It was a bit hard to discern as he tried to tune out the bustling sounds of the coffeehouse around him. From the sound of it, she was making coffee. He finally picked up on her laughter approaching the phone. “You should do my PR.”

“Busy, unfortunately. Gunning for your job, in fact.”

She laughed again. “I can tell. Anyway, Luke tells me you’re gonna try the cooking class too?”

“Yeah we are,” he said, now picking out an assorted mix of your favorite donuts. He heard a lower tone in the background and a light smack that had her giggling. He rolled his eyes.

“Oooh we? Sounds kinda serious,” she hummed, giving him an invitation to volunteer more information.

“No comment.”

He heard a male’s voice in the background again. Obviously Luke. It was too distorted to understand, but he was certain it was annoying.

“Hmm,” she purred, sounding like she was following up with a small sip, “Maybe I should pump Y/N for the details.”

She wasn’t joking. She was almost as relentless and nosy as you were to get the facts.

You could definitely hold your own, but he just didn’t need the headache.

He paid for the donuts with a light laugh. “We just got started, I wouldn’t call the reverend.”

“No, but it’s kinda a huge scoop. Maybe I should make this the next cover story,” she taunted saucily, making him laugh a little louder.

“Hilarious. You know, jealousy’s not a good look on you, Lo’,” he sassed back, checking the time. She snickered on the other end.

“Not jealous, just surprised. Y/N’s a pretty hard sell. How’d you land her?”

He left and casually held the door for an elderly couple, eyes on your building two stoplights down. “Just. Lucky, I guess.”

Lois hummed in agreement. “You do have a flair for luck that I’ll never understand.”

He laughed, dipping his head modestly and picking out a table to sit at in the outdoor dining area. You probably weren’t awake just yet, as evident by your phone going straight to voicemail, so he decided to give it 30 minutes or so. “I guess it’s a matter of perception.”

“Clark...Mmh…Clark…”

He paused. It was a whisper. Your fevered gasps that pierced his ears through all the clamoring of the waking city. It was a cry for him. Falling from your lips. It switched something on in him.

“Mmh…yes. Please…I deserve it,” you groaned through needy gasps. What the fuck were you doing to yourself that had you sounding like that?

A soft vibration accompanied you and his mind nearly shut off. You were thinking about him...while you were...Fuck.

“So anyway, see you in class?”

He blinked, his thoughts interrupted. Lois continued on the other end, completely oblivious to any of it. Something about Luke’s pictures or some shit. He didn’t really care. Which was truly a first. He took a small breath.

“Yeah. Sorry. Signal broke up,” he lied, trying to gather his thoughts, “Call you back.”

"Everything okay?" she asked, a little concerned at his detached tone.

He snapped out of it, eyes falling to the stoplight that changed to red.

He licked his dry lips. He did need to stop.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just almost to her place."

"Ooooh, I see. Well don't let me hold you up."

He could've told her "It's not like that, I'm just bringing breakfast"

He could've worked it around to say "Nah, I like the company."

Anything that came out of his lips next would've been another step closer to stealing her away from her mediocre boyfriend

But instead

He exhaled a low, breathy laugh. "Thanks. Later."

He barely registered hanging up. You'd finished quickly, the soft puffs of your breath fading from his senses just as quickly as they came. That was a sucker punch to his health. He wondered if he could wager just a peek. Just one. Through a few thin walls.

He could just imagine you there, muscles still tense, gradually relaxing, honey-soaked thighs sliding down your sheets, your panties ruined--provided you were wearing any. He took a deep breath. Granted you were his girlfriend--fake or no--you were his friend first.

No peeking. Not yet anyway.

Your shower kicked on and he nearly audibly groaned. You were making it really hard to be a gentleman.

Impossible.

He let his morals slip a little as his view of your apartment faded to the interior, eyes curiously peering into your world. He'd never been up there before. Your decorations revealed a bit more to him than he knew. Your awards and achievements were framed above your work area. He’d recognized a good portion of them. From Fresh New Journalist, to Journalist of the year—two years in a row, around which were framed pictures of you with all the members of your team at some point or another.

It made him smile a bit when he saw that you actually saved the picture of the you and him after losing the office paintball game, both of you splattered with yellow. A color you sarcastically quipped complimented his eyes. His chest pounded when he thought about how cute you were, dusting paint out of his hair, standing on your tiptoes. Jokingly reminding him that it was his fault your position was given away because he was so damn tall. It made him laugh. You always made him laugh.

Shit.

Had it always been you?

No, he’d known Lois far longer, and was in love all the way. But somewhere along the line, you’d sneaked in and hit him with your jokes, your wit, your smile… Dammit Y/N.

Almost as if summoned, you emerged from your bathroom, wrapped in a towel and his eyes darkened a bit, sliding along your curves in the terrycloth.

He could feel his face heating up a bit; this was wrong. He knew that. But he was too curious to stop now. A bead of water caught his attention--a stray drop from your soaked curls that framed your pretty face as you rifled through your drawer. it ran down your chest in a jagged pattern before disappearing into the darkness of your cleavage.

This was so wrong.

You looked so content. So...satisfied. He felt his body tense when you loosened your towel, ready to drop it for the cute floral lingerie you'd pulled out. He swallowed heavily, his eyes dropping just as the towel fell from your chest.

He couldn't. You weren't his. Not yet anyway

Call him a bit of a sentimental sap, but he didn't wanna spoil the surprise.

He ran a hand over his face, glancing at his phone, trying to figure out how to proceed.

So eventually

There he was

Like a soothsaying sex goblin, he was standing in front of your building with donuts

You suddenly felt a wave of panic wash over you

Like if "I LOOK A MESS" was a feeling

Which. As far as you knew, it was, but you'd never say something so cliche aloud.

Besides, as far as effortlessly sexy went that morning, you were ahead of the game

Also you were too lazy to change. Clark was unexpectedly intruding into your space. He was just gonna have to deal

If you were petty, you'd admit that it was a great excuse to show him the ass he was missing out on bc the lounge shorts clinging to you right then were practically screaming "Lemme sit on that face for an hour or two"

But you weren't petty

"Oh wow, is this what they call a full service boyfriend?" you joked with a grateful hum, your interest fully directed at the donuts he'd brought.

Unfortunately, you missed the absolute shameless way homeboy took in your scent

Like he was smelling his favorite pastry

He couldn't understand it

He didn't wanna try

All he knew was that a new fixation was forming and unlike Lois, you were already half his

The sweet smell of something cinnamon-y wafted from you. Body wash or lotion or something. His eyes followed you as you strolled into your kitchen, and set the box down. Your hair was still a little damp, pulled back into a curly bun. Cute.

“Something like that. I thought I’d drive you to class to make up for last night."

“Oh yeah,” you remembered with a laugh, “Drunk texts? What were you up to last night?”

“It was a hell of a night, believe me,” he said, making his way to your sofa, seeming to want to leave it at that. As badly as you wanted to pry, you let it go.

“Well anyway, we don’t have class today.”

“Oh. Well what do you wanna do today?”

You gave him a strange look. “What? Offering to hang out with your fake girlfriend for the day? What happened to Take No Prisoners I’ll Take Your Girl Clark Kent?”

“He’s off for the day,” he said, rolling his eyes. He did that a lot with you. You laughed, successfully working his nerves.

“Damn. I was hoping to ask him for some pointers,” you said, sarcastically snapping your fingers. He eyed you as you moved past to clean your mess.

Damn you hit different in pajama shorts.

Focus, Clark. His eyes flickered to the television. Rather to the assorted bouquet on your television stand. It was rather extravagant, the stems and petals covering the edge of the screen obnoxiously. A gold card was in a black holder sticking out from it and he was curious about the sender.

“Pointers about?”

“I have an interview/dinner date with with Bruce Tall-Dark-and-Broody Wayne tonight and truth be known, my man’s kinda hot.”

If you only knew how broody he was, he thought to himself, feeling a familiar bit of nagging jealousy tugging at him. “He send the bouquet?”

“Yeah. Aren’t they gorgeous? Somehow he found out about my favorite flowers. The man’s mafia, I’m certain of it,” you joked, completely missing the pointed stare he was giving your flowers.

What do you know? Suddenly got an opening in my schedule.

How about dinner, 8:00 at La Mercerie?

It paid to have X-ray vision.

In this case, though, it left a bad taste in his mouth. You were going out on a date with Bruce Wayne. What the shit?

“What's the story?” he asked patiently, his eyes plastered on the tv now, not registering a single bit of what was showing onscreen.

“The 30th annual Wayne Concert Commemoration? It’s one of the other stories that I got bumped to cover since you scooped me on the whole Nightwing thing, remember?” you said, feigning a bitter tone that made him smile again.

“All that salt’s gonna raise your blood pressure.”

You looked pleasantly surprised at the clap back, whirling to face him with your hand—and a soapy spatula—on your hips. So fuckin cute. “Okay. Farmboy’s got jokes. I gotchu next time, though. This story’s gonna be great.”

“I dunno. A concert story doesn’t sound too exciting,” he continued, a small smirk twitching at his lips. In truth, his emotions were swirling. If he didn’t joke, he might’ve actually have tried to convince you not to go.

“I’ll think of something. So watch your ass Kent.”

"I will," he resigned with a small smirk.

He’d much rather watch yours, to be honest, admiring the light way it jiggled when you shifted your weight to your other leg, your focus back on the dishes.

Fuckin focus, Clark.

Bruce Wayne was dangerous. In more ways than one. The Dark Knight persona was, of course, but somehow Bruce himself was even more dangerous. Bruce Wayne was a handsome billionaire. A playboy. Plus, for all the good he’d done, he was still a marked man with a hell of a lot of enemies. Enemies that would hurt you to get to him. Even if you were just a fling.

Which you weren’t gonna be. Were you? One of his knuckles popped. How long had his fists been clenched? His mouth went a bit dry again.

“Do you have something to drink?” he asked suddenly and you looked at him blankly. What were you thinking about? He’d obviously snapped you out of some deep thought. You always had that look when someone interrupted your train of thought at work. You were also usually kind of grouchy when that happened, but you just gave him a lopsided smile. Which somehow made it worse. Your good mood was beginning to bug him.

“Oh! Yeah! Sorry. Help yourself,” you said, nodding to the fridge. He tentatively did as he was told, spotting some sodas in the door and deciding to grab one. He needed a drink. Ideally one with a sting stronger than a Dr. pepper, but he’d just have to take the L. It wasn’t like he could get drunk anyway.

“I was just thinking,” you said, drying your hands on your towel.

Oh fuckin finally

He needed wanted to know what was swimming through that devious mind of yours

“We can go wander around the park a bit if you want. It’s right next to the shopping center, so I can pick up a cute outfit while I’m there. You know, multitask.”

“Works for me,” he said, pretending the soda is what gave him such a stale tone.

“Sweet, lemme go get dressed,” you said with a pleasant smile. He couldn’t lie, the sudden image of you slipping out of those clothes did flash across his mind multiple times that morning, and he wanted nothing more than to tell you to forget Wayne and stay in all night with your boyfriend.

Which he wasn’t

Not for real

But he was most certainly on your mind

He knew that much

It wasn't Bruce's name coming from your mouth

Yet...

(Part 5)