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becs1024Alex says it's a bit too adjectivey and not enough short story-y, but THIS IS SO FUN that I don't care.
Clark Kent was not, by nature, a confrontational guy.
Sure, there were times - usually involving spandex - when it was his job to be reasonably in-your-face, but those times weren't his favorites. Being someone else from time to time, let alone someone as visible as Superman, was both tiring and tedious. But he was comfortable when he was just Clark, when he could push his ineffectual glasses up his nose and shrug his way out of a scene. He wasn't that person enough. Maybe, he thought, I'll take a personal day.
"Kent!" Lois Lane was striding into the Daily Planet bullpen, in possession of a Starbucks thermos and three-inch stiletto heels. "Perry doesn't pay you to stare out the window, you know. Daydreaming about Superman again?" She smirked at him as she set her formidable purse on her desk chair.
Ignoring the fact that her quirk was accurate, to a degree, Clark sighed. "That's only you, Lois," he said resignedly. "At least I was here on time."
"At least I was getting a lead on the Luthor story while you sat around here mucking out stalls in your mind, Smallville." She took a huge sip from the steaming thermos. Clark watched and shuddered, despite his invulnerable tongue. Pulling a jewel case out of her bag, Lois continued. "It seems little Lexy-poo has been secretly financing a number of lobbyists and organizations, who have in turn rallied against our resident alien. The proof's right here, on this disc." She leaned over onto her elbows, waving the case under Clark's nose. "Can you smell it? That's what a Pulitzer smells like."
Clark, who could smell the pork chow fun Lois had for dinner the previous weekend, among other things, turned away from her teasing brown eyes and matching low-cut blouse. He had a feature on the Mayflower Dog Show to write.
And...scene. Comments? Questions? Ideas? Donations? Expressions of jealous rage?
Clark Kent was not, by nature, a confrontational guy.
Sure, there were times - usually involving spandex - when it was his job to be reasonably in-your-face, but those times weren't his favorites. Being someone else from time to time, let alone someone as visible as Superman, was both tiring and tedious. But he was comfortable when he was just Clark, when he could push his ineffectual glasses up his nose and shrug his way out of a scene. He wasn't that person enough. Maybe, he thought, I'll take a personal day.
"Kent!" Lois Lane was striding into the Daily Planet bullpen, in possession of a Starbucks thermos and three-inch stiletto heels. "Perry doesn't pay you to stare out the window, you know. Daydreaming about Superman again?" She smirked at him as she set her formidable purse on her desk chair.
Ignoring the fact that her quirk was accurate, to a degree, Clark sighed. "That's only you, Lois," he said resignedly. "At least I was here on time."
"At least I was getting a lead on the Luthor story while you sat around here mucking out stalls in your mind, Smallville." She took a huge sip from the steaming thermos. Clark watched and shuddered, despite his invulnerable tongue. Pulling a jewel case out of her bag, Lois continued. "It seems little Lexy-poo has been secretly financing a number of lobbyists and organizations, who have in turn rallied against our resident alien. The proof's right here, on this disc." She leaned over onto her elbows, waving the case under Clark's nose. "Can you smell it? That's what a Pulitzer smells like."
Clark, who could smell the pork chow fun Lois had for dinner the previous weekend, among other things, turned away from her teasing brown eyes and matching low-cut blouse. He had a feature on the Mayflower Dog Show to write.
And...scene. Comments? Questions? Ideas? Donations? Expressions of jealous rage?
