Lois Unbuttoned

By CC Aiken <AikFree@aol.com>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: March 2003

My first fanfic. Offering a glimpse into how our favorite    characters might have operated in the immediate aftermath    of the Non Wedding of the Year

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Lois Unbuttoned

"One hundred and seventeen buttons," the Wedding    Coordinator had pronounced with no small satisfaction, as    she closed the last one. Between the bride's mom and    herself, the "buttoning in" of Lois had taken a mere half    an hour. During which the bride had stood quietly, mind    racing, as each button further sealed her fate- locking her    away from her former life, her former self, and her    former...ummm...partner.

Lois, looking back hours later, from the safety of her own    bedroom, could hardly believe it hadn't been a dream. The    glorious gown, her own anxiety, the constant murmurs of her    mom and Mrs...um...Mrs. Wedding Coordinator Lady. None of    that seemed real. And none of it mattered anymore. No, what    mattered now, as the sun set on what was to have been her    wedding day, were the 117 buttons.

"How?!" Lois wailed quietly to herself, for perhaps the one    hundred and seventeenth time, "how am I ever going to get    out of this dress?" Maybe it was absurd, given the events    of the day, that this was the thing that had totally undone    her. The catalyst of her panic and her pain, the dress,    into which she was buttoned, and out of which she had no    idea how she was to get!

It had been hours since the dramatic non-wedding events.    Since Perry, Jimmy, and Clark had returned her to her    apartment. They had been so kind, so perfectly circumspect.    Lex's body hadn't met the pavement but a short minute    before Perry had shoved her - with great care - into his    back seat, still in Clark's arms. All the way over to her    apartment, Perry and Jimmy had never stopped talking,    trying to drown out siren wails and media helicopters.     Only Clark had been as silent as she. His arms never left    her - even while they had sat, somewhat uncomfortably, side    by side in the sea of her white dress. Though he had    trembled slightly, Clark had never loosened his grip. Not    that she would have let him. She had kept her face turned    into his neck, telling herself to breathe and keep    breathing, and breathe some more.

And she had wished, in the part of her brain that could    still hold a thought, that the trip from Lex Towers to her    place would never end. That she could stay in Perry's car,    listening to the music of words from the front seat,    breathing long, slow breaths into Clark's neck. Feeling his    tight grip, and knowing that she was safe, and cherished,    and free, no matter how incredibly stupid she was.

Yet, despite the traffic of police, rescue workers, and    ravenous reporters, the trip had not lasted forever. All    too soon Lois was in her lobby, hardly remembering getting    out of the cocoon of Perry's car. Still holding Clark,    still feeling his arms around her. Then her key was in her    door. Lois wondered where it had come from. It wasn't as if    she had any pockets in this thing. Nonetheless, Jimmy, or    maybe it was Perry, had the key.

Only when they were all inside had Clark let go of her, and    spoken his first words since the strangled and mysterious    "I can't" on the sidewalk under Lex Towers. "Hot tea," he    said, and pushed her down onto her sofa.

Perry and Jimmy took his place immediately, fitted as best    as they could on her small sofa with her big dress. Perry    held her hand. Jimmy awkwardly patted her back. Clark made    tea.

Lois couldn't see him. Couldn't muster the strength to turn    her head, even. But she could hear him pouring, stirring,    rattling cups. She was missing the comfort of his neck, as    much as she loved Perry and Jimmy at the moment.

"I love you all," she has blurted out just then. And though    it was so unlike her, she was glad she did. Jimmy's awkward    patting broke its rhythm. As did Perry's hand rubbing.  And    Clark's clattering stilled. A small something passed    between the four of them.  Something just right and    affirming.

"You saved me," she had said, and only just choked out the    last word.

They all spoke at once.

Perry said, "You know you're like a daughter..."

"You would have done the same..." Jimmy said.

And Clark told her, "We're your friends, Lois, always."

"I wouldn't have done it." Her voice was considerably    stronger now that the logjam in her jumbled mind had    opened. "I told him `no' at the altar. I knew...I always    knew...But especially walking towards him." Lois hurried    her words. Now that she could speak, now that she had    admitted her love for this family of men, she needed it all    out.

"I couldn't do it. I    couldn't...stop...thinking...of...you." Lois had stated    this into Perry's, or was it Clark's, handkerchief, which    she somehow possessed. She hadn't looked up or turned her    head, but of the three possible "yous" in the room, there    was no doubt as to whom this was addressed.

Suddenly Perry had remembered Jack, and needed to go help    him unravel his legal knots.  Jimmy, still patting, sat    close-mouthed and considering, until Perry reminded him of    his own urgent errand that could no longer wait. "Huh?" was    all he'd managed before Perry had him out in the hall, door    solidly shut behind himm.

Things had turned very quiet. If Lois had not known he was    there, somewhere in the kitchen behind her, she would have    felt very much alone. She had not looked up, but she knew    he hadn't followed Perry and Jimmy. Not unless Clark had    gone out the window.

For the first time in weeks, Lois felt peaceful inside.    Yes, she was spectacularly unmarried. Yes, she was beyond    any doubt unemployed. But she was right here. In her own    place. With Clark. So, she wouldn't let her mind go any    further - backwards or forwards. Not to the day in the    park. Not to the night at the window with Superman.  Not to    the sound of Lex's body hitting ground. Not to any of the    painful questions sure to come to her in the days ahead.

For the first time, maybe ever, Lois was just fine where    she was. Therefore, she did not turn to where she knew    Clark was. Did not try to bring his neck back, or his arms.    Or even ask for her tea. She sat back in the waves of her    dress and kicked off her shoes.  Which in two seconds were    followed by her nylons; thigh-highs were so uncomfortable.     Lois' hand halted on her garter. The stupid, gaudy garter    sent to her by Lucy, who had characteristically been "too    Lucy" to come to the wedding. If only she had been "too    Lois" to go herself. With a shaky sigh, Lois whisked off    the garter and launched it over her shoulder.

He caught it.

Clark caught it, without knowing exactly what it was. Only    when he examined it did he realize that he had his hands on    what would have been Luthor's to remove. It was so warm.    Clark swallowed, blinked, swallowed. Never taking his eyes    off the back of her shiny, black head. God help him, he    hated her right now. And hated himself for the ridiculous    love for her that he could not out-muscle or out-run.

Puttering in her kitchen, hours after escaping kryptonite    hell at the hands of the devil.  After crawling on his hand    and knees to get away, here he was, making tea for Lois.     Clark knew he was powerless in so many ways. No superpowers    to spin him out of here and away. And no willpower to    simply leave her. Or to tell her of his hatred, his hurt,    his awful, awful love.

Clark had been on auto-pilot all morning, since Lois had    launched her beautiful, snow white, breathtaking self into    his arms. Arms that he knew he had held out for her. Clark    had not tried to excuse himself from the ensuing circus of    events. Perry had led the parade, and he, Clark, had    marched along, arms wound tightly around "the bride."

But Clark hadn't anticipated Perry and Jimmy's desertion.    Had not considered being alone with Lois. For weeks Clark's    focus had been pure and unshakable - Stop Luthor. In    stopping Luthor, he knew, he could stop the wedding. Stop    Lois from...so many things.

Clark had worked days, nights, countless hours to that end.    And now that it was done, now what? He had not dared shift    his focus. Had not dared to hope.

"I couldn't stop thinking of you," she'd just said. Words    that should have been a gift to him. With all of his goals    met, and more, shouldn't he feel...something other than    angry and bone weary? Every muscle, every nerve in his body    ached with cold. Clark wanted to leave this second. Go    home. Take a long, hot shower. Call his mom. Get in his    bed.  Sleep until he could forget how Lex Luthor had almost    killed Superman. How Lois Lane has almost...killed Clark    Kent. He hadn't expected to feel this way.

He hated Lois Lane. And he hated Clark Kent for his    powerlessness. For his tea making.

Clark placed the garter carefully on the kitchen counter,    as if it might break. Then very deliberately poured his own    mug of tea into the sink. Calling on all the saints of    heaven to protect him, he carried the one remaining mug to    Lois.

Lois looked up at his approach. Smiling her thanks, she    took the tea from him.

<<Always taking>>

"You're leaving?" she asked quietly, when she saw him pick    up his jacket.

"I...yes, Lois." He hesitated. <<Always tongue-tied, always    uncertain>> "I have to..."

"Return a video?" she offered with a soft grin. "Check and    see if you left the tap running? Meet a guy about a horse?"

Their eyes met. Lois stopped talking at once. She saw it in    his eyes. Why he was trying to go. What his quiet was    hiding.

"You're mad at me." It was a statement, not a question. And    it was said with no anger, no hurt, just acceptance.

Clark had one hand on the doorknob, so close to escaping    yet another cage. He knew Lois better than anyone. Better    than she herself did. He knew her moods, her worries, where    she was fragile, and where she came out fighting. Better    than anyone on the planet - and beyond - he knew what to    say to her, and maybe more importantly, what not to say to    her.

One hand on the doorknob, one foot outside the "Lois cage"    in which he had been stuck since time began, Clark turned    recklessly.

"Yes, Mrs. Luthor," he ground out. "I'm mad at you. Enjoy    your wedding night."

If the door had opened, it would have been a great exit. He    would have slammed it behind him, spun into the Suit and    flown...ok...no superpowers. So, he would have walked    briskly away, never looking back. No pillar of salt would    Clark Kent be.

If the door would just open.

"I think Perry threw the deadbolt from the outside," Lois    ventured. "He had the key, I think."

Clark, of course, could break the door down. If he had his    powers. Or just turn the knob and pull just hard enough,    thus breaking the damn deadbolt, but making it look to the    naked eye like just an ordinary man opening the door. If he    had his powers.

"The spare key is in the glass dish just to your left."

Or heat vision. Heat vision would melt the locks. Burn down    the door.

"Clark."

Burn a hole in the floor he could throw himself into,    though possibly onto the heads of Lois' unsuspecting    downstairs neighbors.

"Clark?"

Just who were Lois' downstairs neighbors, anyway? He    briefly ran various faces through his head, trying to    decide if anyone was big enough to be caught under his full    weight without injury.

"Clark. It's ok. Use the key. Go home."

He reached for the key, fumbling with the locks and praying    she wouldn't come over to help him.

"I'm just going to wait for my mother to turn up," he heard    her say soothingly.

Clark shut his eyes and heaved a sigh. He knew for a fact    that her mother was personally seeing to it that the    champagne fountain didn't go to waste. Jimmy had whispered    as much to him on their way in.

Hating them both, but ever powerless, Clark turned and    looked at Lois. For the first time that day, he really let    himself see her. All of her. In that dress, looking so    incredibly beautiful for...someone else. The maniac with    the axe, to be exact. Even if he hadn't spent the most    hellacious night of his life the night before, it would    still hurt to look at her.

Dressed up...for Him. She had been walking down the    aisle...towards Him. All the while he lay in agony,    listening and waiting to die. And loving her with a    desperation he half feared could not be sane. Could not be    normal. <<Kryptonian love, maybe?>> Now Clark let himself    look at her. Let himself feel. Let himself into the pain.    He couldn't help it. He spoke the name, which had become    like a prayer to him over the past year they had shared.

"Lois." Clark faltered, tried again. "Lois. Your mom isn't    coming."

She raised her eyebrows, but otherwise didn't seem too    surprised.

"She's ok, isn't she?"

"Yes...just...just..."

"...drinking," Lois finished for him, so he wouldn't have    to.

"Yes," he said.

She stood and walked towards him. He skittered back like a    crab off a beach towel. Lois held up her hand to halt him,    reaching past him to where the ineffectual key lay hung in    the wrong lock. "Let me," she said kindly. "You look like a    cornered rabbit. I know you want to go home. And it's    really ok, Clark."

They stood just inches from each other. Lois moved towards    him very, very slowly, giving him plenty of time to get    away. When he didn't, she brought her hand up to stroke his    face, and with great care kissed his cheek. "I meant what I    said. I couldn't go through with it because of you. And I    can never thank you enough for that. And for coming today,    despite ...everything."

She saw she had his full attention. His fidgeting had    stopped. His eyes had been locked on hers since she touched    him. He seemed to be making up his mind about something.     "I'm sorry, Clark," she said. "And you know something? I'll    say it, since you won't... You Told Me So."

"You are not Lois Lane," Clark blurted without thinking.

"Do you think I'm Lois Luthor, then?" she demanded gently,    but with enough heat and enough steel to make her point to    him.

"No, Lois. No." He hung his head. "I wanted to hurt you. I    wanted to punish you, I guess even more than you have been.    I mean, one minute I'm holding you and wishing that you and    me and that dress together...never mind. Then I'm telling    you we're `friends always', only to hurl that at you on my    way..." He gestured towards the door, now standing open.

"You were being honest. Clark, we are being honest, for the    first time, really completely honest with each other. And    guess what," she laughed. "You're a little meaner when you    are your true uninhibited self. And I'm a little nicer. And    NO ONE would ever believe that!"

"We can't let this get out," he whispered. "It would ruin    our reputations."

"I think mine is pretty much trashed, as it stands now,"    Lois answered.

The gentle banter had lightened the mood. And brought them    back together. After a pause, Clark had shut the door.    Turning the key in the lock, slowly, effectively sealing    himself back into the "Lois cage."

"More tea," he said with a wry smile. "I never got mine."

"And mine's cold," she agreed.

Together they moved towards the kitchen. "Could you eat?"    he'd asked her.

"Yeah," she answered, surprised. "I could. Let's call for    delivery. Anywhere you want, my treat. I was, after all,    this close, to becoming the third richest Mrs. Billionaire    in the country."

"In that case," considered Clark. "I want my pizza with    imported cheese on top."

Lois laughed until she cried. After that she just cried.    She didn't know how, but her face had found his neck,    again. She was so grateful. Clark held her still more    tightly, seated on the floor of her kitchen, buried under    her dress, under the weeping Lois. He didn't try to talk.    He just rocked her, pulling her farther onto his lap,    further into his neck. Having her there, holding her,    comforted him in a way he could never have explained. The    remaining anger drained away. After all, on what would have    been her wedding night, Lois Lane was cradled in his arms,    on the floor of her kitchen, holding on to him for dear    life.

Clark's thoughts drifted off to the night before; to a    different floor, the unrelenting agony of the kryptonite    bars, the heartache. Could he have imagined himself here a    mere twenty-four hours later? If he could have, maybe he    could have broken those bars.  Flown away from the toxic    cage. Come to Lois. Told her who he really was. Held her.    Loved her.  Seen her in a wedding dress once and only once,    on their day.

Lois had stopped crying for now. She studied Clark, lost in    his thoughts miles away.  Eventually he realized she was    quiet and watching. Their eyes joined. His weary but    soothing brown ones, to her sad but trusting brown ones.

"Brown-eyed children," she murmured inaudibly. Though at    that moment he was just the slightest bit super-enough for    the inaudible to be audible. And Clark knew just what she    meant. As dark as they both were, they would never have    blue or green-eyed babies. It was a thought he'd had often;    when he imagined himself with Lois, the picket fence, the    2.5 brown-eyed little Lane-Kents. Clark didn't let on that    he had heard her. He just drank that cryptic message into    his heart, put it away for later, a promise. Something had    changed. The pillars of their relationship had shifted,    whether she was aware of it or not.  He was no longer "like    a brother" to her. And that was more than good enough for    this day.

"You're probably wondering about the pizza I promised," she    said out loud this time.

"Yeah," he sighed softly. And then completely disjointedly,    "Lois, I could never hate you. Even if I wanted to."

Lois blinked, swallowed, blinked. "Thank you, Clark. I know    just what you mean."

"I should have tried harder to convince you about    Luthor..."

"No."

"I could have had Superman tell you what we thought..."

"No."

"At least stayed near by. Not just give you up to him, walk    away..."

"No. No."

"I was jealous, Lois. You were so right..."

"No, Clark. No." She shook her head. "There is so much    blame to go around here, but none of it is yours.    I...turned you away. Then tried to have it both ways. An    engagement to someone who was going to sweep me off my feet    and out of my failed life. But also, you...as a loyal    friend, a constant partner at LNN. Sweet, sympathetic    Clark, who loves me, but who I push away, while ever    calling him closer.  I...have...been...the...worst...   kind...of...tease."

"No."

"The worst kind of friend."

"No."

"The worst judge of character."

"No."

"And completely blind to what was - is - in front of me..."

"Lois?"

"I turned you down flat. I took up with the biggest bastard    in the entire city. I badgered you to work with me, to talk    to me, to be with me. And when it all falls apart...When b-   b-bodies are falling through the air." She drew in a sharp    breath and shook her head violently at Clark as he tried to    stop her. "I grab you," her voice broke, "grab you and    burrow into you. The only warmth and comfort I have ever    known. The only good man who has ever loved me. And I leave    you no choice but to bring me back here, to babysit the    woman who threw you away."  Her voice ran out, her    breathing was ragged, but she didn't cry.

They sat silently. Eyes locked. Foreheads together. Just    breathing. Just holding on to each other and the quiet of    the moment. The minutes passed, but the spell didn't break.     Lois and Clark faced each other; their own shortcomings,    their disappointment in each other. They let it all pass    between them. Let the quiet spirit it away. Lex Luthor was    gone. The Daily Plant was history. Perry and Jimmy had run    to the hills. But they were still here, still together,    still ok.

"I think I'm finished crying," Lois announced after awhile,    hopping to her feet and holding out a hand to him. "Now,    about that pizza..."

Clark put his hand on her shoulder, turning her away from    the phone. One thing unfinished. "We still haven't talked    about... Him."

For a moment Lois was genuinely perplexed. "Who?" she    asked, brow furrowed.

"Luth....Lex," he stated.

"Oh." Her voice was small. "Well, what should we say    about... Him?"

"You were going to marry him."

She shook her head, deflecting the seriousness of that    sentence. "I told him I couldn't.  He knew. He heard me.    He...smirked, I think. I don't really remember. Everything    went nuts right after. But I did tell him, and he did    know."

Lois had no idea why that one fact, in the crazy scheme of    things, should matter to her.  But it did. Was that cruel?    That she wanted Lex to have known she was not marrying him    before he died? If she had said, "I do," would Lex have    stayed on the ground, even facing certain jail time?

Truly, she thought not. "It's not as if he really loved    me," she mused aloud, "or that I loved him. It's not like    marrying me would have given him the will to live."

"Lois, I would never imply that your saying, `I don't,'    pushed him off the balcony. But..."

"I know you wouldn't, Clark," she said, smiling, "but it's    good to have that straight." With that she was punching the    numbers on the phone. "Salad?" she asked him.    "Breadsticks?"

"You go change." He took the phone from her. "I'll order."

And that thoughtful, gentle order had brought her here. To    the present. To her bedroom.  To her dress with the 117    buttons.

After initial attempts to undo any of the tiny little pests    behind her back had failed, so did all of her resolve. Her    new peace, her new perspective, her new appreciation for    the now; all of it fled. Lois was trapped, she realized    with a thudding heart. One hundred and seventeen buttons    away from her true self, her true non-wedding dress wearing    Lois Lane self.

What had ever possessed her to go for buttons?! I mean,    didn't everything zip these days.  And velcro, velcro was    good. How Victorian did one's wedding gown have to be?     Twisting and turning to get a better look, she continued to    struggle.

"Think, Lois," she ground out between clenched teeth.

She tried pulling her arms out of the sleeves, hoping to    possibly twist the dress around so she could have a go at    the buttons from the front. No good. The bodice was just    too fitted, no wiggle room. She tried pulling the whole    creation up and over her head. That might have worked, if    she had the strength of ten Wedding Coordinators. Perhaps    she would have to starve herself out of it? Wear it under    her work clothes until she was so thin she could crawl out    of it? She looked doubtfully at the trim suits hanging in    her closet. She'd need a giant trench coat.

Lois was delaying the inevitable, and she knew it.

She well knew what she was going to have to do. Or rather,    who was going to have to do it.

It was too awful. She and Clark were building a fragile    bridge over the broken dam.  Despite the weeks that had    passed, despite the events of the day, they were together.     Lane and Kent. Two against All. Clark had treated her with    more grace and generosity than she deserved. Lois knew    that. She vowed one day to return the favor.

Next time, she would carry him away from an ill-fated    wedding. Catch him, clad in his tuxedo and cuff links, hold    him to her...

Still struggling, still tugging, she pondered this    scenario.  No. Clark wouldn't be about to marry someone he    didn't completely love. What then? Maybe she could pull him    out of fire? Push him out of the way of an out of control    bus?

One hundred and seventeen buttons. Darn the buttons! Darn    the buttons!

How could she save Clark?

Both exercises - the getting out of the dress exercise, and    the Lois rescuing Clark one - seemed impossible.

She would have to ask him. Any minute now. Just call out to    him. Just open the door and say...

"Lois! Pizza's here!"

"Ok, coming," she yelped, hopping up and down, pulling    vigorously at the buttons.  Whatever she could reach, she    would just tear off.

Man, they were so well sewn! Really, this wasn't a wedding    dress at all. It was a white, cascading fortress.

She stopped suddenly on a thought.

How had she expected to get out of this dress?

Had she really imagined Lex unbuttoning 117 buttons,    unwrapping Lois Lane...Luthor?  With loving patience? With    great finesse? With passion in his eyes? She shuddered,    closed her eyes, drew in a deep, shaky breath. What had she    almost done? How could she? What if...What if she hadn't    backed out...? Perry hadn't burst in...? Lex hadn't...

"You were going to marry him," Clark had said.

What if she was standing in the honeymoon suite right now,    back to Lex, feeling his deft fingers all the way down    to...She reached her hand down to find the last button and    blanched. And Clark? Where would he be now, while Lex    Luthor slowly unbuttoned Lois Lane?

Lois sat down heavily beside the bed, hands pressed to her    eyes. She burned; with humiliation, with regret, with    disbelief at her stupidity, and ultimately, with relief.    She was home. She was ok. Clark was here, just on the other    side of the door. If she called for him, he would come. It    would be his breath on her skin. His warm hands on her    back. His eyes on her body. No one else's. Clark would    unlock her from her own foolishness. Had she really, just    this morning, only stood there while her mom and Mrs.    Whatever had closed her into this dress, burying her,    caging her? She couldn't believe it.  She was Lois Lane!

<<No>> a cold, small voice chided her. <<That was Lois    Luthor.>>

A huge sob rose in her throat. She couldn't smother it. In    two seconds the door was yanked open. He came to her, like    she had known he would.

Clark had paid the pizza delivery guy ages ago. He had laid    out the plates, popped open the creme soda, folded the    napkins. None of this had taken long. And having run out of    things to do, he had been pacing and eavesdropping as best    he could with minimal superhearing. Clark hadn't been about    to decipher the mutterings coming from Lois' bedroom, but    had taken heart in them, taking any sign of crankiness to    be good. He had nearly knocked or called out to her, over    and over. But despite their new openness with one another,    he couldn't do so. Couldn't help but think he would be    intruding on her privacy. Lois' cry had Clark to her door    before he knew it.

Lois was curled up beside her bed, still in the dress,    crying like he'd never seen her.  Clark went to his knees    to find the Lois amidst all the lace and satin.  "What...?    Lois, what...? are you...? Lois?" Clark finally found a    slim arm, which led him to a shoulder. Next a collar bone,    her hair, and finally, her face. With great care, Clark    pulled Lois up from the floor, out from the waves of    material, and back into his lap.  "Honey?" he asked    quietly, brokenly. "You were fine when you came in here,    right?  What happened?" He was utterly bewildered.

"Your neck," Lois fairly begged.

"My...what?"

"Your neck, Clark," she cried as she fitted herself into    it. "You should leave it with me at all times," she    whimpered.

He couldn't help it. He knew she was upset, but he smiled    widely. She didn't see it. He just couldn't help it.

"You're smiling," she accused.

"I'm sorry," he choked, caught dead to rights.

She giggled, low and quiet, but a giggle, not a sob.

"Lois, I am the world's most confused guy."

She giggled again, higher and louder.

He chuckled softly, reluctantly.

She joined in, again.

Bodies shaking, they held each other, laughing loud and    long. One would stop, and the other would start all over    again.

"What?" gasped Clark, finally. "What are we laughing at?"

"My utter stupidity. My horrible impulsiveness. My jumping    in - and jumping out - of the jaws of death."

"Your Lois Lane-ness?"

"Exactly."

Eyes shining, she sat up in Clark's lap. She touched his    hair, his stubbled cheek. Saw for the first time how tired    he looked. She ran her fingers over his full, soft lips,    noting the freckles there. Had she ever seen those before?    The laughter died quickly. Clark shifted beneath her.    Behind his glasses, his eyes had gone dark, his lips parted    slightly at her touch. "Lois," he groaned, "we...can't."

"I know," she agreed on a sigh. "We won't."

"What happened to you in here?" Clark had to know. What had    she been keeping from him? He could have sworn he and Lois    had both felt better when the call for pizza went out.

Lois took Clark's face in her hand. "I am stuck in my    dress," she explained. "I have one hundred and seventeen    buttons holding me in, and I can't undo the first one."

Clark blinked, swallowed, blinked. "Oh."

"Will you, Clark?" she asked him.

"Yes, Lois, of...of course. Just...bear with me."

Still in his lap, Lois turned her back to him. Clark worked    quickly and quietly.

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As he worked more of Lois appeared under his hands. She    trusted him, he knew. But it hadn't been his hands she had    imagined with this job. He sped his pace a bit, and tried    not to feel the skin beneath too well. If he just kept    going.

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He wished for superspeed. He wished for steady hands. For    an icy cold shower. For her not to be so beautiful. To be    her husband. To be the one these buttons had been intended    for. For Lois to love him the way he so desperately loved    her.

He knew they had been on the verge of kissing.

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And he had been the one to stop them. They couldn't. He    knew they couldn't. But she had wanted to, hadn't she?

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She seemed to find a comfort all her own in his neck. That    was something, wasn't it?

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She had mentioned "brown-eyed" children. That meant    something, right? And she'd told him she hadn't married    Luthor because she couldn't stop thinking about him. That    had been clear enough to scare off Perry and Jimmy.

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Her back was bare and lovely. Her body warm and close.

"Lois, could you ever...love me?"

The question was out and hanging in the air between them    before Clark could grab it back. He cringed. He was an    idiot! Here he was undressing her, as her friend. And he'd    asked her that when she was entirely vulnerable to him,    half naked in his lap. She made it all too clear only weeks    ago....

"I'm sorry, Lois. Forget it, ok? Stupid..."

Lois brought her hands behind her, stopping his in her    grasp. Letting go, she twisted around carefully to face    him. His eyes now shuttered, his expression fighting to    cover the regret and the longing.

"You are my dearest friend, Clark. And so much more."

Hope dawned in him, though he tried to squelch it. "But..."    he prompted.

"But," she echoed, "I have made a mess of this, for both of    us."

"Not just you, Lois," he rejoined. "I rushed you. Rushed my    confession of love. I knew you didn't feel the same about    me, but I put it out there. Put you into such a hard    position, being my friend, and..."

"Harder than the one I've put you into today? Tonight?    Now?" she challenged.

He looked down at his hands. Shrugged. Went back to the    buttons which trailed behind her.

"Yes, Clark. I could love you so easily."

His head snapped up.

"I already like and trust and need you more than anybody in    the world. Can love be so different?"

His fingers became clumsy, fumbling. His heart sang.

"But not yet, Clark."

He nodded vigorously, a new light shining in his eyes.    "You're right, Lois." He continued working. "We both need    time. To figure out what comes next. Where we go from here.    How to get the Daily Planet back. How Lane and Kent are    going to nab a Kerth."

Clark smiled at her, held up the now separated material in    his hands.

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"A-la-kazam, Lois, you're free."

With a whoop of joy, Lois shot to her feet, rising up from    the dress and from the ashes of Lois Luthor. She let it all    fall away - over Clark's shocked and goggle-eyed head.    "Don't you dare move a muscle, Kent," she threatened as she    darted naked to her dresser, throwing open the drawers. In    near superspeed she was dressed in her Metropolis U.    sweatshirt and loose baggy shorts.

With great flair she grasped the dress loudly announcing, "    And now, ladies and gentlemen of Metropolis, I present to    you, the One, the Only, That incredible yet Mild-Mannered    reporter from the Daily Planet, One half of the Hottest    Team in town..."

"Lois," came a long suffering voice from under the dress.

"Ok, ok...The Right Man for the Job...Clark Kent!" she    cried, whisking the dress off and away dramatically.

Clark rose lightly to his feet, took Lois by the hand, and    bowed deeply to the imagined applause. "It was nothing,    folks. Just one hundred seventeen of the tiniest little    buttons you ever saw."

Lois clung tightly to his hand. "One day, Clark, I want to    free you, so you'll know how it feels. Just tell me when.    I'll let you out, pick you up, and put you back together. I    owe you. I mean it." It was as solemn as any vow she had    ever made. Standing with Clark in the folds of her wedding    dress, the irony was not lost on either of them.

Clark kissed the knuckles of the hand in his. "I accept,    Lois. I'm holding you to it."

Thus joined, they left the room to eat their very cold    pizza.

The End

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