Title: You're Just Lois Lane
Part I of II
You are the reason for his existence. You are the reason he will become who he is meant to be. You are the only one he can murder and love at the same time. You are the smile he looks for when he walks into a room. You are the heartbeat he listens to so he can keep time. You are his world. His match. His everything.
It would be nice. To be that someone. That one. You fall onto your bed with your rumpled clothes and rumpled thoughts trying to straighten themselves out before beginning another Daily Planet day tomorrow. Your shoes fall, one by one, with soft thuds that are nothing like the hard thuds of your heart beating inside your chest at the reality of what's to come. Tired eyes close and you wish you could close the drawer holding onto memories of moments where you were someone to him. The blanket wraps around you and for a second you wonder if this is what it would feel like if he were to tell you he needed you.
In your sleep, the dreams aren't about him. They're about nothing.
You realize the knocking sound isn't some form of delusion or the television you're pretty sure you didn't even turn on last night. You ignore it, instead burying your head further under the covers and deciding five more minutes of sleep won't hurt. Somewhere a phone rings and you groan as you realize it's your cell, beckoning you with a short ring you're all too familiar with. Muttering something about death and bodily orifice concerning one dark haired man you know, you emerge from your cocoon into the cool morning of March and head for the shower.
The smirk on your lips complements the annoyed tilt of his brow as you open the door for him.
"Why Clark, how long have you been out here?"
The coffee cup in his right hand is snatched by your deft hands as you slide to the way.
"Not even back for a day and you're already torturing me."
"Well, Smallville," you close the door behind him. "I've got a lot of missed time to make up for. I mean, a month without my humbling presence and your head is probably in the clouds."
His smile tightens in mock pleasure and you suddenly feel like this is what you've missed most of all. Rubbing him wrong, drawing out something in him he's not comfortable with, nudging him ceaselessly.
"I did come with the intentions of welcoming you home…."
While you should tell him this isn't home, that this is nowhere near to home, you don't. His home is not yours. You're just stuck being homeless. So he doesn't read your face, you turn away and head to your too small kitchen.
"Then why don't you, Smallville? Don't tell me your manners are finally gone without my endearing presence."
The way he follows you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
"Lois," he stops with a sigh, digging his hands into the pockets of his slacks and you notice one lock of that dark hair falling over his forehead as he stares at you. "Welcome back."
The defeat in his voice makes you laugh and he follows with a smile.
"Cheer up. You know you missed your other half."
You lean up, with no thought running through the jumbled mess you call a brain, and with one hand swiftly comb the errant strands back into their rightful place. Honestly, you didn't think it would feel like this. It shouldn't feel like this and your hand pulls away quick enough to still feel his hair on your skin even as it meets the thin counter.
His body is still, rigid even, as you clear your throat. His eyes always give him away, but this time you two aren't alone in a barn at a wedding. You're in an apartment with his one true love tugging at him on a regular morning. Instead of believing in his look, you pick your coffee up with a wary glance before pouring it down the drain.
"What the hell did you put in this, Smallville?"
You make up your mind, as you sit at your desk into the dark of night, that this is over. Whatever it was that drew you and him closer, you cut. Rolling the pen between two fingers, you nod your head slightly at his empty chair as if he agrees. And he does. You know he does. You felt it all day as he tried not to look at you, touch you, talk you out of something ludicrous and involving clowns. But, why did he give you those stolen looks, that grin as you nearly killed your computer, a soft goodbye when you said you were staying?
A frown smoothly marks your forehead as your lips pucker in thought of him. Lana's gone, or so he'd told you. He couldn't hide the confusion and unease in his body and you knew the battle hadn't even started and yet you'd lost.
If you hadn't already made up his mind for him, you'd tell him to do it himself. He can't have her and you. He can't love one and pursue the other. He can't make her first and you second. You won't let him.
You stand slowly. You're jealous of her. She's the one who has his heart and can't give it back. She's the girl he dreams about and wants to save every day of his life. She's the vision of goodness he abides by, swallows, breathes.
You are not the reason for his existence. You aren't the reason he becomes the man he should be. You aren't even the one who conflicts him. You are not the smile he searches for. You are not the heartbeat he keeps with his. You are not his world. His match. His everything.
Because you? You're just Lois Lane.
A/N: So, how did I do for my first Smallville chapter? I know I'm still not great at their characterizations, but I'd like to think I got some things right. ;)