by Corbeau Noir
Lois worried about her rookie partner more often than she cared to admit even to herself. When she first met him though, she hadn't liked him at all; he'd been so polite, so correct, so...bland.
*Hi, I'm Clark Kent.*
She'd never before gone for the wholesome American boy-look, and she certainly wasn't starting now. Who wanted a van full of children and a white picket fence anyway? Lois much preferred a steaming mug of coffee, black no sugar please, and gleaming sky rises that broke through the clouds.
Lois... I hate skyscrapers.
But she was a reporter, 'a damn fine one' if she quoted Perry, and it'd only took a misstep or two before those vaunted reporter's instincts kicked in. Now she knew that Kent was hiding more than just stunning hazel eyes behind those coke-bottle glasses.
Do you ever wonder how it feels to fly, Lois?
But what? Oh, but what...?
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