Leather

By Dandello <momkat@dandello.net>

Rated: PG

Submitted: 12/2007

Copyright: October 15, 2007 Country of first publication, United States of America.

-o-o-o-

The investigation into Mayson Drake's death was beyond frustrating. Clark had almost come to terms with the fact that he hadn't been able to save her, but now there was a DEA agent in the mix and it looked like he was attracting Lois's attention. The last man who'd managed to pull that off was Lex Luthor and everybody knew how that had turned out.

It wasn't helping that Agent Scardino had identified the maker of the bomb that killed Mayson Drake as one Sean McCarthy, late guest of the New Troy prison system. And that so far, nothing tied McCarthy to anyone who might have wanted Mayson dead. One thing in their favor: McCarthy wrote his mother regularly from prison and she had let them take the letters. Of course it hadn't hurt that someone apparently wanted McCarthy's mother dead and Superman had to make an appearance to save her.

"Still reading McCarthy's letters?" Clark asked. Lois had spent the past hour since their return from McCarthy's mother's house deciphering the handwriting.

"Yeah. I've been thinking about what McCarthy wrote in the last one he mailed. About being in a 'better place.' What if he wasn't talking about the hereafter? What if the better place was outside the prison walls?"

"Are you saying you think he faked his death?" Clark asked.

"Well, Dan said..."

"Oh, now it's 'Dan'?" Clark didn't want to sound snippy. Lois was a big girl and supposedly able to take care of herself, despite all evidence to the contrary. Watching over Lois seemed like a full time job for Superman. But if she wanted to see Agent Scardino, it was her business, wasn't it?

Lois ignored his comment. "He said the bomb that killed Mayson could only have been built by McCarthy. If that's true..."

"Okay, I'll play along," Clark conceded. Lois had thought she'd seen a dead man move at Mayson's funeral. So maybe she hadn't been seeing things. This was Metropolis after all. "So maybe we should pay a visit to McCarthy's 'pen pal.'"

Lois grinned at him. "I already made an appointment. His name is Big Buster Williams." She eyed his suit and tie. "But we obviously can't go in looking like reporters."

Clark's heart sank. "What did you have in mind?"

-o-o-o-

Clark didn't know how Lois knew these places. He didn't want to know. What he did know is that he had just put down hard earned money to buy a leather jacket with studs, a pair of leather pants his mom wouldn't let him wear in public if she saw them - and she was the one who sewed together his spandex uniforms - and a pair of biker boots. To complete the ensemble, Lois picked out a black t-shirt, an adhesive ear stud and several temporary tattoos, including a Superman logo.

"Lois, nobody is going to believe me wearing this," Clark complained.

"It's a great disguise," Lois protested. "No one will recognize you, especially with dark glasses."

"Lo-is..."

She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, so what are you wearing?" he asked. He wasn't quite ready to concede defeat although he was certain he wouldn't be able to pull off this particular disguise. Blue tights were one thing, but this was something else entirely. He was going to look ridiculous. *Leather pants?*

"I have some stuff in my closet that'll work," she said. "From when Lucy and I did the bar scene."

"Oh, like the outfit you were almost wearing at the Stoke's Club?"

"And what was wrong with what I was wearing?"

"A nose ring?"

"Okay, so you pick out something for me... But I swear to God, Clark, it'd better be good."

-o-o-o-

Her outfit wasn't quite as slutty as the one she'd worn to the Stoke's Club. At least it didn't look like she could simply fall out of it if she so much as breathed and the red leather halter did look good on her. Her stiletto heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor of the hallway outside the prison's visitor center. But he did notice that she was actively avoiding looking at him except for occasional sidelong glances.

*This outfit is ridiculous. I swear I'll never let her pick out undercover costumes for us again.*

"How do I look?" she asked, brushing at her teased out hair.

"Appropriately cheap," Clark commented, trying not to sound too negative. Lois looked like a bimbo. Luckily that was the look she'd been going for. "Big Buster will never know what hit him," Clark added.

She giggled, touching up the corner of her bright red lipstick. "Look, if he asks who you are we'll say you're my uh... brother. Just let me do most of the talking."

"You usually do..." Clark muttered as he opened the door to the visitors' area for her. She flounced through, sticking another stick of gum in her mouth.

Clark stepped over to the bored looking guard. "Excuse me. We're here to see Buster Williams."

The guard looked them both up and down, his eyes seemingly ready to bore holes in Lois's chest. "You want Big Buster?"

"That's right," Lois told him.

"Hey Buster, you got another visitor," the guard yelled. He pointed out a diminutive man who bore an uncanny resemblance to a gnome, excluding the pointed hat.

"That's Big Buster?" Lois whispered to Clark. He shrugged and followed her over to Buster's table.

"Hey, so you're Buster. Just like McCarthy said," Lois said, cracking the gum in her mouth. "Best lookin' guy in the joint."

Buster seemed a little out of it as he looked up at Lois. "Yeah?

And... who are you?"

Lois extended her hand to Buster to be shaken. "Angel. McCarthy's old lady. This is my brother, Spike."

Clark rolled his eyes as Buster gave Lois the once-over much as all the guards had done when they walked in.

"That's some killer outfit," Buster commented.

"Thanks."

"I didn't know McCarthy had a doll. I thought he was kinda a morals boy," Buster commented.

Lois shrugged. "Yeah, well Sean was kinda tight lipped, you know."

"So, did he send you to fill me in on the job?"

*Bingo.* Lois and Clark exchanged a look. McCarthy was alive.

"The job?" Lois asked with wide-eyed sweetness. As always, Clark was amazed by Lois's acting skills. She made a convincing bimbo, but he would never dare tell her that, not even as Superman. He liked all his body parts in their appropriate places.

Buster started to cough and he was beginning to turn pale.

"Do you need some water?" Clark asked. The other man really wasn't looking good.

"No thanks Spike. I'm okay," Buster assured him. Then his eyes rolled back and he slumped out of his chair, falling to the floor at Lois's feet. Both Lois and Clark jumped out of their chairs. Clark reached over and felt for a pulse at Buster's throat.

"He's dead," Clark stated as the guard picked up the wall phone to call for assistance.

-o-o-o-

Dan Scardino walked into the visitors' room as they were wheeling Buster's body away. "I guess that really is a killer outfit," he commented, eyeing Lois the same way the guards and Buster had. Clark grimaced at him. Lois snapped another gum bubble.

"Uh, how about you and me, we paint the town red sometime," Scardino continued. "I know some great biker bars..." He finally seemed to notice Clark standing beside Lois. "If that's okay with you 'Spike'. Love the look, by the way. The boys must really..." Scardino's mouth twitched into a smirk.

Clark heard Lois's heart rate jump. He was never quite sure exactly what happened then. Even with super speed he hadn't quite caught the movement beside him. But suddenly Scardino was sitting on his behind on the concrete floor holding his nose.

"That's hitting a federal agent," Scardino protested.

"Oh, I thought I was decking the jerk who was leering down my front and dissing my partner... *Nobody* disses my partner." Lois looked over to Clark. "Come on, Spike. I know a few bars too."

She sauntered off. Clark had to hurry to catch up with her. "Nobody disses your partner?" Clark managed to ask.

She shrugged. "Don't get any ideas, Farm boy." She stopped and looked him over in the same way Scardino had looked at her. He felt his cheeks growing warm and she began to chuckle. "But don't worry, I'll protect you from all those boys and girls who want to take you out of those leather pants." She turned and started toward her car swinging her hips suggestively. "Of course, who's going to protect you against me?"

Resurrection was written by Gene Miller & Karen Kavner

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