I'm so, so sorry that this took me so long. I was kind of freaking out about this, because it's a huge chapter and I wanted to make it justice. So... I hope you all like it. Thanks for all the reviews. :)

Chapter Text

V

too misty and too much in love

Look at me, I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree;

And I feel I'm clingin' to a cloud, I can't understand

I get misty, just holding your hand.

Walk my way, and a thousand violins begin to play,

Or it might be the sound of your hello, that music that I hear.

I get misty, the moment you're near.

Can't you see that you're leading me on?

And it's just what I want you to do,

Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost?

That's why I'm following you.

On my own, when I wander through this wonderland alone,

Never knowing my right foot from my left, my hat from my glove

I'm too misty, and too much in love.

Too misty,

And too much in love.

Misty by Ella Fitzgerald

Lois is confused at first, when she wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, on a unknown room, in a location yet to be determined.

This is not the first time that she faces this situation.

So, she's confused, but not scared. She's been changed into clean clothes, safely tucked between soft sheets, and her right leg is wrapped in a bandage. The air smells like chicken soup and grass, and the wind comes through the window, cleaning the air in the room, clearing her mind.

This is how a home looks like, smells like, feels like.

This is not a cell in some abandoned prison that now a group of terrorists is using as a operational center.

Someone is watching her. No, it's more than that. Someone is taking care of her. Someone who silently knits, while she rocks her chair back and forth on the corner of the room. Someone she has only seen twice in her life.

She moves in bed, sitting up, and she has to hold her head between her hands immediately, because the ache is almost unbearable.

"Careful, dear…" Martha says, standing up and sitting next to her in bed. Lois smiles at the tone.

She sounds like Clark.

"How long have I been… asleep?" she asks, taking the glass of water that the older lady offers her. Martha shakes her head.

"I suppose at least twenty hours. Clark brought you home last night. That was a really concentrated sleeping substance they gave you. He checked you up with his vision, made sure you had no concussions or broken bones, and then I cured your wound. He thought you wouldn't want to be left in a hospital"

"And he was right" Lois answers, resting her back against the headboard. "Thank you, Ms Kent. For everything" she adds. The lady smiles.

"Please, Lois, call me Martha" she answers, patting her shoulder affectionately. She stands up, then, and reaches for Lois' pants, that rest on a chair. "Now, I think you need to stretch your legs. Care to join me downstairs for lunch?" she says, leaving Lois' things in the bed and leaving the room.

The wound in her leg is no big deal, just a little bruise were the dart scratched her skin and another bruise in the back of her knee, where the metal bar hit her. She's had worst. Much, much worst, in fact.

She's still a bit dazzled, so it takes her a moment to put her jeans and her sneakers. She notices this is a new change of clothes. Clark must have picked them from her apartment. She also notices she's wearing an oversized sweatshirt, with the Kansas' logo in the front.

She wonders if she might have permission to keep it.

She wonders who undressed her on the first place.

She sneaks into the bathroom, and she's surprised when she sees her reflection on the mirror. She thought she'd look worst, but it's actually not so bad. Maybe she was really needing those twenty hours of sleep. Or the adrenaline rush.

She washes her face and her hands and fixes her hair. Not so unconsciously, she's trying her best to impress Martha Kent. Their previous encounters have been brief… and problematic. Lois knows she was purposely being annoying in their first meeting, asking personal questions and invading the woman's private life, and threatening her with her most precious possession: her son.

Their second encounter was even briefer, but more friendly.

Still, when you are running against the clock while trying to save the world from an alien invasion, you don't really think of making a good impression for your possible-but-not-until-a-million-years-from-now-mo ther in law.

So Martha Kent could possibly hate her, and she'd be right to do it.

Yet, she's taking care of Lois.

Maybe because she likes her, or maybe because she loves Clark way too much, too deeply to say no.

Lois can relate to that.

She's walking down the hall, to the stairs, when she notices the red and blue room. She smiles, and steps inside without giving it a second thought.

There isn't much inside. It's not a big room. But there's enough space for a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a book shelve. Everything is painted and colored in blue, red and white, and there are only two pictures hanging on the walls. Lois' curiosity levels are out of the charts.

In the first one, a five years old or so Clark is wearing a baseball uniform, completed with a hat and a glove, and a tall, black guy that Lois doesn't recognize, but she supposes it must be a baseball player, kneels besides the boy. She smiles, and absentmindedly leans closer to the wall, stretching her fingers and touching Clark's little face.

In the second picture, a teenage Clark stands between Martha and…

"That's Jonathan, my husband" Martha says from behind her, making her turn around. The woman walks to her, smiling at the memory. "That was taken the day when Clark turned sixteen. He got his driver's license that day. Jonathan insisted in teaching him how to drive, even when Clark could've run everywhere and arrive just in time, or even earlier. But he was his son, and he always dreamt of teaching his son to drive, so he did. He was so proud. I was proud, too. For both of them" she finishes, her voice filled with emotion.

Emotion, not sadness. And even though Martha Kent is shorter and smaller than her, Lois feels as if she's in front of a giant.

Only a woman this big could raise a child and turn him into a hero.

"I made chicken soup and sandwiches. I hope you are hungry" she says, turning around and leaving the room. Lois follows her.

"I could eat an entire cow right now" she jokes, as they walk down the stairs. It's not a big house, and it's still being repaired, but Lois likes it. It has character. Just like its owners.

"I have one on the backyard, but it's a bit raw" Martha answers, and Lois can't help but chuckle. She likes her. She really does.

The table is already set, so Lois sits in one of the chairs after Martha swears she needs no help. There are only two spots served. She assumes Clark must be back in Metropolis. She doesn't know if she wants to see him yet, so she's glad he's giving her some space.

"I didn't know if I was supposed to call someone. Your parents or… any friends" Martha explains, leaving a foggy bowl of soup in front of her. Lois shakes her head.

"No, it's fine. They are used to my… unstable behavior, and my unspecified whereabouts. They know I can disappear for a few days here and there" she answers, taking a spoonful of soup. It's a good soup. Really, really good.

"That doesn't mean they don't care about you… or don't get worried" Martha adds, sitting beside her, leaving a plate filled with sandwiches in the middle of the table. Lois nods.

"I've grown too familiar with that idea in the last months…" she whispers, dipping one sandwich in her bowl. From the corner of her eye she can see Martha containing a smile.

"I like your articles. I read them everyday. I feel like… I'm more in touch with Clark when reading them than before, when he was traveling and living everywhere but nowhere at all. It's strange, you know? Sometimes I feel like Superman is slowly consuming Clark, and that one day my son, my boy will disappear inside that suit. And yet… reading you articles, I'm not reading about Superman. You write about Clark. But I guess no one notices that" she finishes, shrugging, and taking a bite of her sandwich.

Lois has to take a moment to compose herself. Martha's words have struck her so deeply, have moved her so much, that she's been left speechless.

She turns her sigh to the little Tv that stands in the corner of the room. She frowns when she sees the headline.

"He gave a press conference?" she whispers, looking at the scene that plays in front of her. There he is, clad in his suit, speaking to a mass of journalists and reporters.

She recognizes some of them. Apparently everyone in the business was invited. Everyone but Lois Lane.

"He's trying to protect us" Martha says, her own eyes fixed on the screen, shining with pride. Lois leaves the spoon on the table and runs her hand against her forehead, trying to clean her mind.

"What did he say?" she asks, but she's not sure if she wants to know the answer.

"Basically, that he's in no capacity affiliated to the government, nor related to any other group, political party, association, or person. If they want to get in touch with him, they will have to go straight at him. No intermediaries" the lady explains. Lois sighs, and rests her head on her hands.

"He thinks those men were trying using me to get to him…" she says.

"Were they?" Martha asks. Lois shakes her head.

"No. It had nothing to do with him. I was on the wrong place at the wrong time" she answers. Martha smiles.

"That probably means you were unto something, right?" there's a hint of complicity in her tone. Lois loves that.

"I might have something on Luthor…" it's all she says. Because, in reality, that's all she has. Martha snorts.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised" she chuckles, as she picks up the dishes and leaves them in the sink. Lois stands as well, because she can't stand to stay still for a second more. She takes a towel and starts drying the stuff that Martha washes.

The farm is a beautiful place. From the kitchen window, she can see the barn and the windmill, as well as Martha's garden and the fields.

"I'd have loved to grow up in a place like this" she confesses. Martha looks surprised.

"Really? I thought you were more a city kind of girl…"

"I am. But I didn't grow up in a city. I'm an Army Brat. And, believe me, anything is better than that" she finishes, as she piles the dishes over the pantry.

"Clark loved it as a kid. As a young man… not so much. But he always comes back. No matter how far he goes, how long it's been since he left… he always comes back. And I live for the moment when he crosses the door." Martha says, with a smile in her lips, as she dries her hands on her apron.

They sit on the table again, and Martha serves two slices of apple pie and two cups of tea. They don't watch the Tv. Instead, Lois tells her stories about Superman, and Martha tells her stories about Clark.

How the kids are now running around the streets of Metropolis wearing an old sheets as a capes.

How Clark used to wear an old tablecloth that belonged to his grandmother.

How they've created a burger with his name. And they putted pickles in it, which Clark hates.

How he used to love them, until one day he ate the whole jar in on hour and he got so sick he could never taste them again.

Lois laughs so hard at that story that she's left out of breath.

She couldn't love him more.

"So… they really love him?" Martha asks, looking at her over the rim of her cup of tea. She's not asking about Metropolis, Lois knows that.

"They really do" she answers. She's not talking about Metropolis either.

Martha nods, takes a long sip of her beverage, and sets it down.

"I think I should show you the embarrassing pictures before he gets home" she states, standing up and walking up the stairs.

Lois sits and waits, a smile on her lips, a warmth in her chest that has nothing to do with the tea.

Or maybe it is the tea, and the apple pie, and the bandage, and the comfy kitchen chair.

Maybe it's the steady sweetness of Martha's voice.

Maybe it's because, for once, she's allowed to talk about Clark Kent instead of Superman.

(Maybe is because, until now, she hadn't noticed how alone she felt when he wasn't around).

-oo-

She doesn't leave that afternoon. It's Saturday, and busses are not working regularly. So she has to wait until next morning to take the next bus to Metropolis.

Or at least that's the excuse she finds. A lame excuse. But it's enough for Martha.

Martha wants to learn to cook that "Korean pork thingy that you cook that Clark likes".

(That's the actual description he gave to his mother).

So, they hit the market. Lois wears a cap, because she figures it might look suspicious to see Martha Kent strolling around with Superman's rumored girlfriend. Or friend, at least.

They buy everything they need, plus a few beers and a bottle of wine, because Lois' headache needs to disappear, and that's what works best for her.

They prepare everything they need to start the lesson. They have a deal. Lois will teach Martha how to cook the pork if she teaches her how to cook the "most amazing turkey sandwich you will ever eat".

(That was the actual description, too. Apparently, the Man of Steel finds it kind of difficult to describe food).

Clark comes home long after dawn, to find them chopping onions and sipping beers, while Lois tells Martha about that one time when she investigated the treasures of the Third Reich.

"I'm sorry… I think I made a mistake? Is this my house or the cooking channel?" he teases, standing behind them, crossing his arms over the S of his suit.

"How are ya, son?" Martha asks affectionately, cleaning her hands with a dishtowel, taking his face on her hands and kissing his forehead.

"Hungry, actually" he answers. Lois smiles.

"Aren't you always hungry?" she jokes, and they both share a knowing look.

But then she remembers their fight, and she looks away, suddenly interested in the seasoning of the pork. Martha looks almost disappointed.

"Why don't you take a shower and put on some normal clothes for dinner?" she asks, patting his shoulder and going back to her task. Clark smiles and nods, leaving them alone.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I don't want for you to feel uncomfortable on your own house…" Lois starts, but the other woman cuts her, putting a hand on her forearm.

"People fight all the time, Lois. Specially people who care about each other. And I couldn't be happier for him… because I know he has found someone who cares enough about him to fight against his demons. He thinks he can do it alone… but we both know better" she finishes, as she checks the bread that they have put in the oven a few minutes ago. Lois sighs, because Martha's words have just lifted a weight off of her shoulders.

"What should I do, then? He won't listen to me…" she says, leaning against the kitchen counter. Martha sighs as well, a sad smile on her lips.

"Give it time. In time, truth prevails. In time, everything falls into place" she whispers, and her voice is loaded with experience.

They are interrupted, then, because the subject of their talk walks into the kitchen, wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel, his hair still wet.

"Full-on Clark Kent mode" Lois teases, as she stirs the contain of one of the pots.

"Is this suitable for the occasion?" he asks, jokingly. Martha releases a soft laugh and lends him the dishes.

"Put the table on, Superman"

"Yes, mom" he says, almost childish, smiling like a kid.

Boy, how she wishes she could write an article about it! About Martha Kent's awesomeness, in general.

But she's afraid it might not sale a lot of papers. Perry won't find Martha good selling material.

(She's good mother material, though. And friend material. Lois is pretty sure she's the one who put the "man" in Superman).

-oo-

The calmness of the fields under the pale moon light is soothing, to say the least. The wind is running through them, making the windmill squeak here and there, making the trees move in a slow, lazy dance, making her sleepy. Lois sits in the little porch, a glass half-filled with wine on her hand, her legs wrapped in a blanket. She's far away from Metropolis, were the sky is nothing more than a black and grey roof, graced on some corners by the presence of a few faded stars.

But here, in the middle of nowhere, she can see every single star on the sky shining with passion, with excitement. Here, she feels small. And she likes that. She likes to be reminded of her own limits, her restrictions.

"Aren't you cold?" he asks, coming out of the house and resting against the grilles of the porch.

"Not really. My new sweatshirt is really comfy and warm" she answers, without looking at him.

"You can keep it. Everything you touch seems to end up being your property, anyway" he jokes.

"Not everything" she mumbles, taking a sip of her wine. He sighs, tired. Not of her, she knows that. But he's tired, nonetheless.

"Would you come with me? I want to show you something" he says, lending a hand.

"I'm not wearing shoes…"

"That won't be necessary" he declares.

Next thing she knows, she's in his arms, the glass still on her hand and the blanket on her legs, and they are slowly floating away from the porch and heading to the barn.

They enter through a window, and he sets her down gently on the wooden floor. The roof has been repaired. She remembers seeing it destroyed the last time she was here, when they came to pick up Clark's… space ship.

"Yes! I knew I had it somewhere" he exclaims, emerging from a pile of boxes with a wooden box between his hands. "Now, if you follow me to the second floor…" he says, taking the box under one arm and Lois on the other, and flying them up stairs.

There isn't much there. Is not a big place. There's a mattress laying on the floor, covered in blankets, a wooden bench and a lamp, as well as more boxes and a book shelve.

"I present to you… my nest" he says, leaving the box on the floor and Lois on the bench. She notices then that the walls are covered with baseball and football posters. She smiles.

"This is were you used to bring the ladies, Kent?" she mocks him, leaving the glass on top of one of the boxes. He returns the smile.

"Oh, I wish that was the case. But teenage Clark was not really successful with the ladies" he explains, cleaning the dust off of the box. "Anyway… this is for you. It belonged to my father, but I think it will find a better place with your collection" he says, lending her the box. Lois takes it and opens the lid.

"Who doesn't like the King?" she asks, taking the records out of the box and giving them a look. Clark kneels in front of her, giving them a look as well.

"Oh, this is my favorite" he whispers, taking away the album from her hands, and putting it on the record player. Lois doesn't recognize the song at first. Not until Elvis starts to sing.

"Have I told you lately that I love you…" she whispers. Clark turns around, smirking. "That's the name of the song, Kansas boy. Don't get too excited" she explains herself, looking away.

"Why, I know that, Lois. What did ya think I was thinking about?" he answers, resting against the little desk that rests in the corner.

Elvis's voice fills the silence for a moment. And then…

"I was so worried about you" he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the music. She shakes her head.

"Before I met you, I was sent to jail five times, in three different countries. I was kidnapped seven times. I lost my memory twice. I was shot and beaten in numerous occasions, and I know almost every other type of sleeping-sedating substance. I've slept in tents and vans and hostels with hostile men that I didn't really knew, and I have broke more bones than what I'd like to remember. Once, I spent three days by my own in the Amazon jungle, lost, and I managed to get away from it. On other occasion, I married an Arabian prince, using a fake name, just so I could get inside his circle and write an article about…"

"Weapons' trafficking. I know. I know it all" he says, and there's a hint of a playful smile on his lips. She frowns, but smiles with him.

"How?" she asks, between confused and amused.

"You are not the only one who knows how to do some research" he answers, shrugging.

She thinks he has never looked more handsome. But with Clark you never really know.

"What I'm trying to say is that… what happened at Luthor's building had nothing to do with you…"

"And yet… I was worried about you" he interrupts her. She sighs.

"Well, this has always been my life, Clark. I'm constantly in danger"

"And I don't want to be a contributing factor"

"What about what I want? Have you give it a thought? Has it crossed your mind?" she asks, exasperated, standing up and walking to him. He crosses his arms, assuming a defensive position. But Lois is not going to drop it. She knows how to pick her battles, and she loves Clark too much to stop fighting for him.

Elvis has stopped to sing. But Lois can still hear his words echoing in her brain. So she takes a chance.

"I love you, Clark. With all my heart, with every bit of my soul. And loving always means taking risks, taking chances. Even when if you love the most common man on the face of the earth. And I'm glad you are not that guy. Damn, I could have never loved anyone but you!" she says, a smile on her lips, on her eyes, on her heart. She takes his face in her hands, forces him to look at her. His hands come to rest on her shoulders.

"You say that now, Lois. But… what happens next? What kind of life can Superman give you?" he asks, his voice thick with insecurity. She steps closer to him, stands between his legs.

"You silly boy… I don't care about Superman. Yes, the hero in the cape excites me. But it's the guy in flannel the one who drives me crazy. That's the one who makes me burst with love" she answers, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. He sighs and drops his hands to her waist.

"My father want me to-"

"What do you want?" she's the one that interrupts him this time. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. She forces him to look at her again, bringing his face closer to hers, until their noses are touching. Unconsciously, his hips also get closer to hers, and his hands tighten their hold on her waist. His breathing feels warm against her cheek.

"What do you want, Clark?" she repeats, whispering against his lips, and her hands play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

The answer is simple, short and sweet.

"You" it's all he says, before his lips crush against hers, slowly at first, tasting the moment. She smiles and kisses him back, pressing her breasts against his strong chest, feeling him hoisting her up, his arms snaking around her waist.

This is the moment, she can feel it. Her chest is bubbling with happiness, a happiness that turns her breathing into a giggle, that turns her smile into a full grin.

Next thing she knows, she's sitting in the wooden bench, and Elvis is playing in the background, and Clark is kneeling between her legs, his hands carefully taking off her sweatshirt, his eyes never leaving her. She presses her knees on both sides of his hips, because she wants him closer, because she's afraid he's going to back up at any minute.

But he doesn't. Not this time.

She takes of his flannel, her fingers working quickly with the buttons, her lips brushing against his, warm and wet, biting his lower lip, knowing she won't hurt him.

People call him the Man of Steel, but as he brushes his fingertips against her breasts, she has the feeling she will never feel something as warm and soft as his fingers, drawing patterns in her skin, leaving goosebumps behind his track.

Soon enough, his jeans fall on the floor, and her pants follow them, creating a pile next to his feet. Her hair falls down her back and her lips find his neck, right over his pulse. He smells like aftershave and grass. Fresh and clean like the wind that likes to blow his cape. His fingers dig into her back, never once hurting her, even though he could cut her in half with a small movement of his hands.

She takes a deep, shaky breath when his tongue finds her nipple, making her shiver, arching her back.

"Clark…" she mutters, her fingers swimming in his hair, her teeth nibbling his hear. She feels him smile. "Please…" she whispers, and her voice is filled with lust, with longing, with love, her legs bringing him closer to her centre. The thick fabric of his boxers does nothing to hide his erection.

She's about to loose her mind.

"Before… we continue…" he says, panting, just as excited as Lois (if not more) "I need to know…"

"I know" she cuts him, smiling brightly. He smiles back, taking her face between his hands, bringing her closer.

"I know you know, but still…" Clark whispers, his blue eyes shining with love, his messy curls falling on his face. "I love you, Lois Lane. With every bit of my soul. I love you in a way that I thought I'd never be able to feel. You are a gift, a blessing. And I promise I'll always do my best to protect you, even from yourself. Because that's what you do for me. When I'm with you, Lois… I'm not afraid of what I might become. When I'm with you a feel like a man. A really lucky man. A man who could travel the seven seas and still find nothing more beautiful, more perfect than you" he finishes, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, as a teary smile appears on her face. She kisses her thumbs, rests her hands on his forearms, releases a soft laugh.

Lois looks at him, then. Deeply. She searches his face, tries to memorize it, tries to save this image in her mind, save it for a rainy day, save it for the future. Here he stands, the love of her life, telling her he loves her just as much as she loves him.

She stands up, smiling at the confusion that appears in his perfect face, and takes him by the hand, leading him to the little nest of duvets and blankets that rest on top of the mattress. She sits there, and he kneels in front of her, his hands finding her hair once more.

"I think this… nest has waited long enough to fill its propose…" she says, batting her eyelashes at him. Clark smiles, gently laying her down, settling his arms at each side of her body, hovering over her, as their legs get tangled with the sheets.

"He's not the only one who has waited long enough…" he answers, and there's a daring note in his tone, and Lois thinks it might be the sexiest thing she's ever heard.

Their lips find each other once more, first barely touching, almost caressing the other. Lois runs her fingers down his back, finding the waistband of his boxers, urging him to take them off, and Clark rips her panties away, leaving nothing but the heavy air between them.

Lois is pretty sure she has never wanted anything as much as she wants- needs him right no.

She parts her legs then, and he runs his hand from her knee to her waist, leaning down to kiss her inner tight.

"No time for that!" she urges him, as she feels his eyelashes against her skin. He smirks.

"As you wish" he replies, kissing her deeply, his tongue finding his way into her mouth, his hand finding her breast once more, as his other hand comes between them. He separates himself form her for a moment, to look at her in the eye. "Are you sure?" he asks, taking a deep breath. Takes his face, her fingertips playing with his hair, brings him closer.

"Just look at me, Clark. Look at me and everything will be all right. I promise" she whispers, nodding at him, trying to make him feel safe. He nods back, smiling, and brings an old cushion closer to them, settling it behind her head. She takes his hand and kisses it, giving it a squeeze, encouraging him.

She has to suppress a scream when he enters her, because even tho they are not in the house, she's afraid Martha might hear them. She sighs and brings him closer to her, burring her face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily as he moves inside her, thrusting against her slowly.

Clark also has to suppress a groan, as he rests his face against her hair, his lips against her ear, his hot breathing making her shiver.

"I love you so much" she lets out, and she digs her hands into his back, his hard muscles tensing under her touch. He doesn't answer, but she thinks he might be a little too busy trying to control himself. "Let go, honey. I'm yours" she adds, as she starts to thrust harder against him, feeling her insides burning already, feeling it building inside her. She takes him by the hair, forcing him to look at her. His eyes are pure pupil, dark and filled with lust, and there's sweat his forehead, that makes his hair curl even more. She's never seen anything more beautiful than that.

He lets it go, then. His breaths get faster, and she feels him pulsing inside her, shivering with pleasure, reaching his high. Is that, more than anything, what makes her come as well.

Or maybe it's the combination of everything. His eyes on hers, his skin against her skin, the sound of his heavy breathing, the groan that never leaves his mouth. The way their bodies melt into each other, fitting together like a hand and a glove, making her feel like they are only one.

It's cheesy and soupy to say that then the world stops for a moment, but Lois doesn't give a shit, because that's exactly how she feels.

"Are you… ok?" he asks, trying to find the air, looking up and down at her. He's examining her. She's about to combust with love.

"Only if you stay" she answers, leaning closer to him, drawing a constellation of lazy kisses up and down his neck and jaw.

He lays down then, rolling her until she's on top of him, bringing a sheet over their bodies. She can feel his heart still racing under her hands, and she kisses his chest, playing with his little hair, nuzzling her nose against it. He kisses the top of her head, her temple, her forehead, releasing a sigh of pure delight.

"I'm so glad I chose this planet…" he whispers, and she laughs softly, popping up on her elbows to look at him to the eyes.

There's nothing but love there. A deep, pure love. The same love she feels running in her veins, pulsing against her skin, keeping her alive.

"Welcome to the Planet" she says, leaning down to kiss him, her hair falling in his face, her lips sweetly tasting his.

"Oh how I love you, Lois Lane…" he whispers back, his voice filled with happiness, his hands resting on her back.

"How? I'd like to know it, Clark. Please. It's important"

"Are you going to write and article about it?"

"Oh, I could! But then every other woman (and more than one man) would want to kill me out of envy, and I know for a fact that you can't live without me"

"I can. I just don't want to"

That's true. She can, too. She can live a life without him.

A sad, lonely life. But a life nonetheless.

"What happens now?" she asks, as she settles in his chest, resting her cheek against his heart. She can't hide the worried note on her tone. Even after what they've just shared… nothing is settled between them. They are still in a haze. His arms hold her closer, circling her waist under the sheets, as if he'd never want to let go.

(She hopes that's the case).

There's a moment of silence, there. She can hear the soft sound of the wind in the fields, moving the leafs of the trees, making the rusty windmill sing. Clark sighs and drops a kiss to the top of her head.

"Now… I need time. To consider things. You said you love the man on the flannel… and I want to be that man as much as I want to be Superman" he explains, while she plays with the hairs on his chest. She nods. She understands. He needs to find himself again. He needs to find Clark Kent.

"I'll give you time and space" she answers. He smiles against her hair.

"I don't remember saying anything about space…"

"But you need it. You need to find your path, and that's something you should do on your own"

"You are right. Still… I don't fancy the idea of being away from you"

"Now I feel like every single thing you say is just an attempt to get some action…"

"Like what? Saying that I love you? That you are the light of my life?"

His tone forces her to look at him, as a smile appears in her lips.

"That will do" she answers, shrugging slightly, leaning down to kiss him once more.

Because he deserves it. Because she won it. Because they need it.

Because she doesn't know for how long they will be apart. Because right now they are together. Because he looks too damn cute under the pale moon light.

(Because she might not be his priority, but she surely is the thing he loves the most. And never in a million years did Lois Lane imagine that that would ever happen to her).