Love Isn’t Blind



Apartment number 208 was near the end of a fairly clean, carpeted, cream-colored corridor lined with wall lights, on the second floor of a ten-story apartment building. The apartment building was located in a relatively safe, lower middle-class neighborhood on the west side of Metropolis, an affordable residence on a staff reporter’s salary at the Daily Planet. The front door of the building had been propped open by a brick, making it unnecessary to be buzzed inside. The elevators were in working order and had some graffiti, but no gang signs or anything offensive. The door to apartment 208 was made of plain, painted wood, and Lois Lane rapped on it with her knuckles.

The tall, no-nonsense, admittedly bitchy, brunette thirty-year-old was not worried about the person who lived in apartment 208. Lois didn’t get worried. She was merely curious about her partner of six months and why he called in sick four days in a row. Clark Kent was only twenty-four years old and on his own in the big city, away from the safety of Smallville’s small-town ethics and his parents’ loving bosom. He could be in trouble and too stupidly stubborn to call for help.

Lois had been ordered by Perry White, her editor-in-chief to keep an eye on the kid. Clark was her responsibility, she’d been told. When she’d whined that she didn’t want to be responsible for anyone but herself, Perry had responded, “He’s the only one who’ll pay your bail money from now on.” Point blank, Perry had told her Clark was hired specifically to keep her out of jail and court, because Legal was tired of seeing her name on the docket.

Luckily, Clark wasn’t too much of a nuisance. The wide-eyed puppy trailed her around and naively pointed out when she was breaking the law in pursuing a story, but he usually didn’t stop her from actually doing the breaking of the law. He made a decent lookout, too. With time and effort, Lois was sure she could mold him into a willing accomplice in her quest for continual front-page bylines.

When Clark wasn’t at his desk again this morning, Lois figured she had better check and make sure he wasn’t dead, or Perry would have her head on a plate. She had gotten his address from payroll, and here she was at his apartment, with a can of instant chicken noodle soup in her purse.

Lois heard scratching on the opposite side of the door, followed by a scolding male voice, and she stepped back, ready to berate Clark for allowing sickness to get in the way of work. The words, however, froze in her throat as the person she wouldn’t have expected in a million years answered the door.

“Colette, heel. It’s only Johnny with lun-.” Lex Luthor didn’t finish his sentence. Utter surprise colored his features, an expression Lois never thought she would see on the face of the thirty-year-old scion of the business world. She would have crowed about it, if she weren’t completely shocked herself. Lex Luthor – here!

Lois raked her eyes slowly over Lex, taking in his bald head, stunned gaze, slightly gaping mouth, bare freckled shoulders, lightly tanned, defined chest and abs, and the orange-red trail of hair arrowing down from his navel, fanning out, and disappearing beneath black track pants that were barely staying on narrow hips that she would kill to have. The pants clung to his muscular thighs and calves, the hems resting on the tops of his bare, tapered feet. She heard a wolf-whistle in her mind.

Lex recovered before she could form a coherent thought. “You’re drooling, Ms. Lane.”

Lois’ jaw clacked shut, her eyes snapping back to his steel-blue gaze. His sparse blondish-red brows rose in mocking amusement. “Is there something you’d like?” he said with heavy innuendo, tucking the money he had in his hand into his pocket.

“Yes. Clark Kent,” Lois said succinctly, re-gathering her wits. She and Lex had clashed on many occasions in the last five years she’d been on staff at the Daily Planet. “This is his apartment. What are you doing in it, half-naked?”

Lex’s smile was smarmy, but he didn’t have a chance to verbally fence with her, as a tan and white greyhound – Colette, Lois presumed – nosed the apartment door further open and barreled into the hall, right towards Lois.


Lois stumbled backwards and hit the wall opposite the door. She turned her head quickly, her forehead smacking the decorative wall light, as the dog jumped on her, paws digging into her belly and whippet tail wagging wildly.

“Colette, no! Bad girl!” Lex grabbed Colette by the blue collar around her neck. The tags jingled as he pulled her away. “No jumping!”

Lois pressed her hand to her forehead and glared at the dog and Lex. “You could have just asked me to leave.”

“My apologies, Ms. Lane. We’ve only had Colette a few weeks and haven’t trained her yet.”

Lois had to give Lex credit; he did seem sincerely apologetic. She took her hand from her forehead and looked at her bloody fingers. “Good thing I’m not someone who would sue because of this.”

Lex narrowed his eyes, acknowledging the not-so-subtle threat. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Come in, and I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”

Lois followed Lex into the apartment, hiding the rush of journalistic excitement she felt at the invitation, and closed the door behind her.

“Have a seat,” Lex told her, leading Colette by the collar through the living room, down a shadowed short hall to an open doorway at the end. The door closed, leaving Lois alone. She tried not to squeal in glee.

Immediately, Lois scanned the apartment with a cataloging eye. She was standing in a small foyer, worn white laminate tile beneath her feet. A narrow closed door was beside her and a quick peek revealed a coat closet. A small wood table piled with mail, change, gum, keys, and other pocket flotsam sat beneath a round mirror hanging on the wall.

The foyer opened up into a living room/dining room area, with bare white walls and grayish blue carpeting. A chocolate brown leather couch was book-ended by matching chocolate brown leather easy chairs and two tall floor lamps. A dark wood coffee table sat in front of the couch, covered in files and papers. An open laptop, cell phone, and half-empty glass of something red, were also on the table.

She further entered the apartment. A bookshelf crammed with books took up the entire wall opposite the seating. Paperback and hardcover fiction and non-fiction books, textbooks, reference books, poetry books, and a few magazines were jammed without order on the shelves, piled on top, and stacked on the floor on both sides. A tiny television and DVD player sat on a television tray table out of the way. There was also a cardboard box of dog toys, with a few scattered on the floor.

The open dining area was to the left of the living room. A round, empty table with four chairs was placed under a hanging cheap apartment chandelier. The fourth wall of the kitchen was a waist high counter, dividing the area and making the kitchen visible from the living room/dining area. Ugly, harvest gold laminate tile made up the kitchen floor and matched the refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher. There were dishes in the sink and an opened bag of pretzels on the counter. A dry erase board was attached to the fridge with two different styles of handwriting on it, though nothing more interesting than notes about Colette.

Lois made a beeline for the laptop and papers on the coffee table after her rapid survey of the apartment. The name Luthor was a big deal in the business world; the rivalry between LexCorp and LuthorCorp was well known; and here she had open access to Lex Luthor’s paperwork for the next few seconds.

Lois sat on the couch and stood back up abruptly when she was stabbed in the rear. The tapered end of something was sticking up between the cushions. Lois pulled it free, read the label, blushed scarlet, and threw the Astroglide into the dog toy box. She checked the backside of her navy pantsuit, making sure none of the lubricant had gotten on her clothing. Because, ick.

Lois barely caught a glimpse at the computer when Lex returned. He was wearing a somewhat large, red t-shirt with the words Smallville High Crows in yellow across the front. He was carrying a damp washcloth and a box of Band-Aids.

“If you want me to forward you a copy of that report, I will,” Lex said smoothly, gesturing at the laptop before handing her the washcloth.

Lois didn’t deny that she was snooping. “Tell me what it’s about and maybe I’ll accept the offer.”

A corner of Lex’s mouth quirked. “It’s the progress report for the LexCorp Plant in Smallville. Crap is doing amazingly well this quarter. You should think about investing.”

“I’m a reporter. I don’t need to invest, I get my shares for free,” Lois quipped. “In fact, I’m waiting to hear what crap you shovel me to explain why you’re in Clark’s apartment, Mr. Luthor. And where is Clark?” She swiped at her forehead, gritting her teeth at the pain but not making a sound. She was an investigative journalist; she was used to getting scraped up in pursuit of a story. She’d just have to color coordinate with her bruise over the next few days.

“Clark is out,” Lex said, taking the used washcloth she handed to him and passing her the Band-Aids. “And it’s none of your business why I’m here.”

Lois’ nose twitched. She smelled a Story with a capital ‘S’. “Clark never mentioned he knew you.”

“Fishing for information won’t work, Ms. Lane,” Lex said, staring blandly at her. “I’ll be sure to tell Clark that you came by.”

Lois heard a key in the door, tossed the Band-Aids on the coffee table, leaned back on the couch, and smiled smugly. “That’s okay. I’ll tell Clark myself.”

Lex did not look happy. He walked quickly to the door as it opened, to meet Clark. “Clark-”

“Hey, gorgeous. Nice shirt,” Clark Kent, in jeans and a blue flannel, greeted Lex with familiarity and affection. He pushed one of the bags in his arms at Lex as he came into the apartment. “Take this. Be careful, though, I think the soup is leaking.”

“Clark, we have company,” Lex said.

Clark peered past Lex and saw Lois sitting on the couch. Lois waggled her fingers at him. “Lois!”

“You look pretty well for a sick man, Smallville,” Lois said in lieu of hello.

Lex took the second bag from Clark and went into the kitchen. Clark dropped his keys on the table in the foyer, entered the living room, and stared nervously at Lois. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He saw her forehead, frowned worriedly, and moved closer to her. “What happened to your head?”

“My head is fine, and I’m making a housecall,” Lois said. “My partner has been gone four days in a row and I though I’d make sure he wasn’t a corpse, only instead of him, I find the Lex Luthor half-naked in his apartment.”

“Half-naked?” Clark looked towards the kitchen, where Lex was visible behind the waist-high counter. “You answered the door half-naked?”

“I thought she was Johnny,” Lex said, unpacking a bag of Chinese food.

“I’m glad I met Johnny in the hall, then,” Clark said with a hint of possessiveness. He returned his attention to Lois. “Sorry, Lois. I was, um, sick until yesterday and am kind of playing hooky today. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Lois said. “I wanted to know when you were coming back. We have work to do, crime and corruption to expose.” She leaned over slightly to look around Clark at Lex. “Although you seem to be harboring a story right here.”

“Lex is not a story. He’s my boyfriend.”

Lois’ chin snapped up and she stared wide-eyed at Clark. “He’s your what?

Clark pushed up his glasses, glanced back at Lex, and shrugged sheepishly. “My boyfriend. He lives here. With me.”

Lois gawked at Clark. She couldn’t believe it. The Lex Luthor is your boyfriend.”

“Uh, yes?” Clark said tentatively. “He is. I’m gay.”

“Of course you’re gay.” Lois grabbed Clark’s wrist and yanked him onto the couch beside her. “But why didn’t you tell me the Lex Luthor was your boyfriend?”

Clark carefully freed his wrist. “You never asked if I was attached or not.”

“That’s because I didn’t think someone like the Lex Luthor would look twice at you.”

“Oh, well, that makes sense,” Clark said.

“It certainly does not,” Lex stated, glaring at Lois from the kitchen. “And I’d appreciate it, Ms. Lane, if you would not insult Clark. The Lex Luthor happens to think that he is the lucky one to have Clark Kent even spare a glance at him.”

“Lex…” Clark blushed, ducked his head, and smiled bashfully.

“How the hell did you hook Lex Luthor, Clark?” Lois wanted to know. Clark was an utter dweeb. He wore coke-bottle horn-rim glasses straight out of a Fifties B-movie, dressed like he was wearing someone else’s suits at work and straight off the farm off-hours, had horrible posture, dragged his feet when he walked, and stammered and stuttered when speaking English, but could probably speak Klingon fluently.

Her gaze sharpened suddenly. “You’re Luthor’s dirty little secret, aren’t you? That’s why you’re living here instead of some penthouse on First Avenue, so no one finds out.”

“Ms. Lane-!”

Clark held up his hand, interrupting the start of Lex’s tirade, and glared at Lois through his thick specs. “One, that wasn’t very nice. Two, Lex’s and my relationship is not a secret, but that doesn’t mean we want it publicized. And three, it’s my choice that we live here, and Lex only complains when he has to bag the laundry or take out the garbage.”

Lois didn’t like being scolded. “You still didn’t tell me how you two got together,” she said defensively.

Clark grinned suddenly and slyly. “Lex got stuck wearing my flannel shirt and jeans, and that’s all I’m going to say, other than: resistance was futile.”

Star Trek reference at twelve o’clock. He was such a geek. “Luthor wore flannel?”

“Uh-huh.” Clark’s eyes danced mischievously. “I’ve got pictures.”

“Which you are never going to show anyone, unless you fancy sleeping with Colette for the rest of your life,” Lex said, carrying the Chinese take-out over to the dining table. He turned to Lois, his expression blank, and spoke with forced politeness. “Ms. Lane, are you staying for lunch?”

Lois agreed simply because she knew Lex didn’t want her around. “I’d love to.”

Lex smiled tightly and returned to the kitchen for plates and utensils. Lois noticed his bare feet again, calling attention to how casually he was dressed. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was wearing Clark’s shirt, which was sickeningly cute. It also aroused her curiosity. Why was Lex Luthor dating Clark Kent? Was he slumming? Did he want someone on the Daily Planet staff in his pocket? Was he thumbing his nose at women, marriage, or his father, Lionel Luthor? Or did he truly like Clark? If so, love was quite blind.

As she sat at the table and lunch got underway, she studied Clark while keeping up general conversation. Lois simply could not see someone of Lex’s caliber being attracted to Clark. It was as ridiculous as…Lois being attracted to Clark.

There was a mystery here, between Lex Luthor and Clark Kent, and Lois was going to solve it. Societal exposes weren’t normally her thing, but news was news, and no one else had written about Lex’s foray into homosexuality. She was also itching to snoop for real news leads of crime or corruption involving LexCorp or LuthorCorp.

A plan formed in her mind and she smiled internally. She loved the scent of intrigue in the afternoon.


One of the first skills Lois learned upon becoming an investigative reporter was how to pick locks. It came in handy when she was searching for tangible proof for her stories. Her purse always held a camera and blank computer disks. She never physically took anything from a scene for prosecution purposes. She also was smart enough to wear gloves, and carry pepper spray and dog treats.

The tumblers turned under Lois’ skilled lock picking and she glanced down the corridor before opening the apartment door. “Hello? Clark? Mr. Luthor?” she called, even though no one had answered her prior knock. She knew Clark was at the Daily Planet, but Lex might be here. “Hello?”

There was no reply. Lois stepped inside the apartment, closed the door, and put her lock picks away. She had prepared for the dog to exuberantly greet her again, but there was no barking or sign of Colette.

Lois found the dog gated conveniently in the kitchen, tail wagging happily. “Hi, Colette,” Lois said, petting the dog over the child’s plastic gate. The notes on the dry erase board on the fridge had changed since last week, Lois saw, and she goggled at the sappiness of what was written.

Your Maalox is on the counter. You know, you wouldn’t have an ulcer if you’d stop trying to take over the world, Brain.

Trying to take over the world is fun, Pinky. It’s worrying about you that’s given me the ulcer. I’ll be home late, don’t wait up.

Lois wrinkled her nose. The notes were like something out of a television show. She would say it was staged for her benefits if her breaking and entering wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision today. She’d originally planned to come on Friday.

With a final pat, Lois left Colette to explore the apartment. The laptop, files, and papers were gone from the coffee table in the living room, leaving it bare, and nothing was on the dining table except an empty napkin holder. The mail was gone from the foyer table, as well.

She headed down the short hallway to the three open doorways at the end. One door led to the bathroom, which she ignored, and the other two led to bedrooms. The bedroom on the right was as neat as a pin, a little used guest room, and Lois spared only a minute to rifle through the closet of clothes and drawers of linens. She found nothing of note.

It was in the second bedroom that Lois struck gold. The computer drew her attention immediately, sitting on a desk in the corner of the bedroom. The long double bed was covered in twisted sheets of light blue cotton and a darker blue blanket, with two dented pillows side-by-side at the head. Matching night tables flanked either side of the bed, each with a lamp and alarm clock. A closet was set in the wall across from the bed, with a tall chest of drawers beside it. A television/VCR combo sat on top of a DVD player on the dresser. Clothing littered the floor and was piled on top of a laundry hamper.

Lois stepped over a discarded pair of ratty sneakers and headed straight for the computer. She chuckled in pleasure when she found that it was on and without password protection. She removed a CD from her purse, popped it into the CD burner, and opened the backup program on the computer. Expertly, she chose the files she wanted to download and left the computer working while she opened the top drawer of the desk and dug through its contents.

There was nothing of interest in the top drawer, only basic office supplies. She closed the drawer and started to open the second when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a black briefcase leaning against the side of the night table partially behind her. She latched instantly onto it, setting it on the bed, and popping the open locks. Inside the briefcase were several file folders, a floppy disk, a German phrase book, and an uncovered videocassette tape that held a mini-tape from a video recorder.

Curiosity sparked, Lois pushed the tape into the VCR, turned on the television, and hit play. She sat on the bed, grabbed a file folder, and paged through its contents as the television screen played fuzz. The file was a prospectus on a company in Germany, and she skimmed the pages until Clark’s familiar voice snapped her head up.

Holy-.” Lois’ eyes bugged. Clark Kent was naked on the television screen. He was lying on the bed she was seated on, sideways to the video camera so his entire, very naked body fit in the frame.

Lois couldn’t believe that all that was hidden beneath the suits and slouched posture. Talk about a stud in geek’s clothing! Rippling, defined muscles, narrow waist, miles of golden skin and a sprinkling of dark hair left Lois speechless. Clark was attempting to cover his manhood with his large, square hand, but he was unsuccessful. There was quite a bit of Clark to cover. Quite a bit. Wow.

Clark’s head was turned toward the camera, speaking to someone off screen. His horn-rims were gone, revealing stunning green-blue eyes and high cheekbones, and he took Lois’ breath away. Men weren’t supposed to be beautiful, but there was no other descriptive that would come close to fitting him.

“I can’t believe you want to do this, Lex,” Clark was saying. The date stamp on the corner of the screen showed it was recorded more than two years ago. “Someone’s going to find the tape and splash it all over the tabloids.”

“There will be nothing on this tape that I’ll be ashamed of, Clark,” Lois heard Lex Luthor say off screen. There was a brief pause before Lex added, “But if you’ve changed your mind…”

“No.” Clark grinned crookedly, and Lois suddenly noticed how soft and kissable his mouth looked. “I’m naked, hard, and ready to indulge your kinks.”

“It’s not so much a kink, as a fantasy.” The camera zoom adjusted slightly. “I’d like a good memory to watch on the nights I’m alone, which are getting more and more frequent.”

“Aw, is my baby feeling neglected?” Clark drawled with a smirk. The smirk faded and his brows pulled downward as the responding silence drew on. “Lex?”

“I’m fixing the camera.”

“The truth, Lex-,” Clark said seriously. “-Are you feeling neglected?”

A brief pause, then, quietly, “You’re gone an awful lot.”

Clark pushed up on one elbow. “I don’t mean to be.”

“I know, Clark,” Lex said. “I’m the one who encouraged you to go out and help. I’m just being selfish.”

“Lex-” Clark extended his hand towards the camera, “-come here.”

Lois saw quite a bit more of Lex Luthor than she’d ever imagined, even after last week’s surprise shirtless meeting with him. Reddish down covered his muscular legs, his pale, firm backside dotted with freckles. She caught an eyeful of both men’s penises, as Lex was urged atop of Clark. He straddled Clark, tucked his face in the crook of Clark’s neck, lying chest to chest, as Clark settled back on the pillow. Clark’s arms wrapped around Lex and his hands stroked soothingly along Lex’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Clark said remorsefully.

“Don’t be.” Lex’s voice was muffled by his position. “I’m in a mood. Ignore me.”

“My ignoring you seems to be the problem though, doesn’t it?” Clark brushed a kiss on the curve of Lex’s skull. “How can I fix this, gorgeous?”

Lex raised his head and smiled softly. “You already have, Clark, simply by asking.”

Clark arched up a caught Lex’s mouth in a tender kiss that made Lois’ icy heart melt. Normally, she wasn’t affected by sentimental claptrap, but love practically radiated from the screen. She’d never seen Lex Luthor appear so vulnerable, and she wasn’t referring to his nudity.

Lois supposed she should turn off the video, especially because the kiss was leading to much more. She wouldn’t be able to look at Clark or Lex the same way again as it was. She’d seen them both naked…so continuing to watch wouldn’t change anything. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that.

Lois plucked another file from the briefcase, got comfortable on the bed, leaning back against the head board, and alternated reading and watching Clark and Lex on the television. The homemade video was like viewing really good porn, the kind with plot, emotion, and believability. She now understood why men enjoyed seeing two women get it on, too – watching two men have passionate sex was very hot. The frigid bitch, as she was called both behind her back and to her face, was rapidly thawing and she squirmed occasionally in reaction to the action on the television screen.

“Mmm,” Clark hummed, tilting his head back on the pillow, exposing his throat. Lex sucked kisses onto the golden column of Clark’s neck, nibbled along his jawline, and laved the love bites with a light pink tongue. Clark’s broad hands skimmed up Lex’s pale, freckled back before sliding down over the curve of his buttocks.

Lex licked up Clark’s chin, over his lower lip, and into his open mouth. Lex thrust his fingers into Clark’s thick hair, holding him captive, as his pouty lips were hungrily devoured. Clark moaned quietly, responding to the heady kiss, opening further beneath Lex’s passionate assault.

Clark blindly groped for the tube visible on the night table. Finding it, he flipped open the cap and squeezed the clear gel on his fingers behind Lex’s back without breaking the kiss. The tube was dropped on the bed beside him, and Clark’s hand curved over Lex’s ass. The angle of the video camera did not capture what Clark was doing, but by Lex’s throaty groan and the repetitive flexing of Clark’s hand, it was easy to guess.

Lex broke the kiss with a gasp. Clark’s eyes slit open and a corner of his mouth curled up as he asked, “Like that?”

“Yes,” Lex hissed pleasurably. He writhed against Clark, his back a concave arch, perspiration beginning to shine on his skin in the lamplight. He moaned again. “Oh, God, Clark.”

Clark chuckled huskily, the sound dancing along Lois’ spine and tingling low in her belly. Never would she have thought Clark Kent could sound so sexy. She unbuttoned the collar of her white blouse and fanned the material to cool her heated skin. The files were forgotten, her attention focused solely on the television.

The tube of gel reappeared and Lex was prompted to rise up on his knees. He protested when Clark stopped his ministrations, but Clark hushed him with a kiss. Clark’s engorged shaft was coated with the clear lubricant, his fist working the thick length in a hypnotic manner.

In profile, Lois watched avidly as Lex sank down onto Clark’s cock, the dual rumbles of pleasure from deep in the men’s chests filling the bedroom. Lex rotated his hips, thigh muscles bunching, as he began to ride Clark. Clark bent his legs, pressed his feet into the mattress of the bed, and lifted his pelvis to meet each down-thrust with a firm slap of skin on skin.

“So deep…so good…,” tumbled roughly from Clark’s lips. His hands spanned Lex’s narrow waist, helping him as he rode Clark.

Clark and Lex’s faces were flushed in arousal, features twisted in a way that should look ridiculous, if the accompanying action wasn’t so scorchingly hot. Lex knelt up, changing the angle. An almost painful sounding moan was drawn from both of them by the move. Clark’s forearm partially blocked the side view of Lex’s dick, but it was visible enough, jutting from the thatch of bright orange-red curls that stood out vividly against the pale cream color of Lex’s skin.

Lex licked his left palm, curled his hand around his shaft, and stroked to the rhythm of his rocking. Clark watched with undisguised hunger, looking back and forth between Lex’s face and cock. “Fuck, Clark,” Lex muttered, and sank white, even teeth into his lower lip. He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and held it.

“Gorgeous. You’re so damn gorgeous,” Clark mumbled, thumbs caressing the sweat-slicked skin of Lex’s hips.

Lex’s rhythm faltered suddenly, his hand working faster at his groin. A quite undignified squeak was torn from his throat, and he was coming, milky fluid shooting from his cock onto Clark’s chest.

Clark whispered, “Oh, fuck,” and snapped his hips upward again and again, quicker and quicker. He nearly bucked off Lex. Lex pressed both of his palms flat against Clark’s muscular chest and rode the wild thrusts, head lolling, mouth parted in bliss.

Stiffening abruptly, Clark pulled Lex’s ass down flush against his pelvis and let out a garbled curse. Lex watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Clark’s whole body shuddered, before going totally limp, as if his strings had been suddenly cut.

Clark opened his scrunched eyelids and stared at his lightly panting partner for a long moment. Then, he gathered Lex to him, sinking into a deep, emotional kiss, which slowed to tender petting until they parted with contented sighs. Lex’s sated smile matched Clark’s exactly, and he tucked his nose into the crook of Clark’s neck, as Clark gently stroked his back.

“Love you,” was the last thing Lois heard before shutting off the television.

“Hey, Lois.” Clark shoved his sliding glasses up his nose and smiled friendly, as she sank into her desk chair. Their cluttered desks at the Daily Planet were pushed together front to front, though they were rarely in their seats at the same time. “How was your morning?”

“Enlightening,” Lois replied. She dropped her purse on the desk, temporarily ignoring the minor bits of LexCorp information she’d found at Clark’s apartment in favor of asking, “How long have you and the boyfriend been together?”

Clark appeared surprised by her question. “Coming up on five years. Why?”

“Just curious,” Lois said. “You two look good together.”

Clark stared at her. “Last week, you couldn’t believe a dweeb like me stood a chance with someone like Lex. What made you change your mind?”

“Love isn’t as blind as I originally thought,” Lois answered cryptically. She grabbed her purse again and stood. “C’mon, Smallville. You can buy lunch and tell me all about your relationship with Lex Luthor.”


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