Clark Kent was a gentleman.

There was absolutely no doubt about it, and Lois had understood that pretty quickly. Before actually getting to know him, in fact.

She realized it the very first time, of course, when he was so gentle rescuing her, taking the time to reassure her and gain her trust before he even laid a hand on her, when he could have just hold her down and get it over with. His gentle nature had been confirmed a few weeks later, as she talked to every person that had crossed his path that she could put her hand on – including that one girl back in Canada, who couldn't keep a fond smile off her face when she talked about that man that was not only nice, but defended her even if that meant being humiliated for it.

It hadn't surprised her, then, that he treated her with nothing but respect when they properly met, even though she was openly looking to tell his story, a story he didn't want to be told - and when for all he knew at the time, she could have just gone ahead and do it, despite his heartbreaking story. As if it wasn't enough, he thought of her first when he surrendered himself, making sure nothing happened to her when in a moment like that, she was pretty sure most people would have thought of their own fate, and no one else's.

His kindness and respect even reflected on the way he bent down oh so slowly to kiss her in the middle of Metropolis' ruins, giving her the choice to back out if she wanted to – yeah, right.

And, of course, nothing changed when they started dating ("I don't see how bringing you breakfast in bed is that special, Lois." "Of course you don't," she kissed his adorable pout away.)

And, of course, it was not just for her benefit ("I thought the poor lady was going to faint." "I only opened the door for her, really." "Yeah, but that, your face and your smile, that can be a lot to take in, honey.")

As the months passed, though, Lois gets to see an all new side of him.

Because the truth is, Superman is a total tease.

She discovers it their first night together, in her apartment. Backing her against the wall, he kisses her like she hasn't been in a long time - well, never, really - all the while stubbornly keeping his hands on her waist, driving her crazy. Purposefully, she figures thanks to his cheeky grin and amused chuckle when she groans, frustrated, and drags him to her bedroom.

He also looks far too proud of himself whenever she pretty much melts – yes, freaking melts - because of him. Which is fair, really, considering that he was the blushing kind, and she oh definitely wasn't.

Until him, that is.

As it turns out, Lois Lane, independent, cynical and fearless reporter is as foolish and smitten as every other woman on the planet when it comes to the charms of Superman, turning slightly pink whenever he tells her she's beautiful, shivering when his lips travel their way up her neck, grinning when he locks his arms tightly around her waist and feeling dizzy when he looks at her that way that took her breath away.

But for all those things he managed to do to her, Lois also learns that, gentleman or not - Superman or not - Clark Kent is just a man, in the end. And when at night, she's in nothing but her lace underwear, hovering over him, fingers ghosting over his skin, it's her turn to look her cocky and proud usual self as his eyes darken, his hands start to grip and his lips start to kiss.

She feels his grin against her own, and blesses whatever fate brought her to that Kryptonian guy.