agoodyarn | Lois Lane and her Complete Inability to Drown in Man Angst For Another Minute

Lois Lane and her Complete Inability to Drown in Man Angst For Another Minute

Lois loved her husband.

Lois loved her husband so much it terrified her sometimes, her heart racing with embarrassing ease at more than a few of his smiles. She loved him as Clark Kent and she loved him as Superman. She loved him as her coworker, as her partner, as her friend.

She was also literally ready to thwack him with a brick. A very real, physical brick.

If she thought about it for longer than a minute, she might put the brick in her purse, give herself a good swing. His head, after all, could probably crack planets. It was certainly hard enough.

How. How did he not-- how could he not-- was it about her? Did he honestly think she wouldn't be willing to talk options about this situation? After all, it wasn't like her father-in-law hadn't told her about his ponderous poking at the Batman-themed tie while they'd picked out wedding finery. It was an open secret, and weren't those like bread and butter to these local yokel Midwestern people?

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe what this situation needed was for a certain intrepid reporter to stomp her proverbial feet and bang the proverbial pans and holler in her great big Metropolis voice and get something done.

...at the very least, she'd feel better at calling them both out about it. It wasn't like it'd make things awkward for her, anyway. Tact was for people with time.

"Okay, Clark?" she announced, mid dinner, fork held up with a piece of delicious eggplant parmesan like a gavel. It might seem like it was coming out of nowhere, but it'd literally been percolating in her brain all day since the Justice League had stopped... which was it again? She'd already tossed the story at Perry and she was terrible at remembering her own work after it was off her screen.

Whatever. They hit a thing until it gave up and then Batman made a face and then Clark made an 'aw shucks' face and God, just thinking about it made her want to go back to the original brick idea.

"After dinner, you're flying the both of us to stately Wayne manor. Tonight. Because I cannot stand the thought of another day, even another hour, not dealing with the fact that you and Bruce obviously have a thing for each other." The eggplant gavel wobbled with deep passion. "You think I'll have an issue with it, Bruce has forgotten where his balls are since he hasn't just out and out asked me for a threesome like a grown fucking adult, and I am tired of waiting for you two to get your acts together."

She popped the food into her mouth.

"So tonight, after dinner. Got it?"

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And just like that Clark's heart feels like it might burst. Not at the kiss, though he appreciates the quiet promise that Bruce wants more, that he isn't going to run away just yet. But the quiet, simple request that comes later.

"Can do." It feels like a step in the right direction. And, let's be real, as shy as he might have been that first day when he put on the suit in primary colors no one actually goes out dressed up like that if they are bashful. He can put on a show. So after making sure Bruce's in a comfortable position he hovers out of the bed. After a second of quickly checking with x-ray vision, he hovers towards the right drawer.

(Plus, he's not stupid. Bruce and Lois obviously need to share... something, a moment, some words. And he might be able to hear everything but he can still try to give them as much privacy as he can.)

Lois is the queen of bluster and snark, a red hot iron bitch when she needs to be. But she's not great at hiding moments like this: a blink of delighted confusion at that silent offer. Nor does she move smoothly into place; she waits a moment, as if checking to be sure that Bruce really does want her there before carefully slipping over to curl up against him. But once she's there, she's got her equilibrium again, and she's never been shy: Bruce gets a lingering kiss on his cheek before she answers.

"Of course I remember the cruise ship. I wanted to murder you both." A pause before she considers-- "And it made me want to murder you both again when I found out I was right."

She looks over at her husband with a sly sort of smile before turning back to Bruce. Even as she speaks, there's a light squeeze to Bruce's arm, another silent question since she hadn't gotten an answer last time.

"What made you think of that?"

Bruce gives her a grave look-- he's fine, and he does want her near him. He curls one arm around her, his hand rubbing comfortingly at her side. He hasn't spent the last fifteen years staying silent out of respect for his best friend's marriage just to turn around and throw Lois under the bus at the first opportunity. Besides, the hallucination he admitted to involves both of them.

(As an aside: drawer, hah. Bruce has a walk-in closet the size of some peoples' apartments, which he points Clark towards.)

"Changing made me think of it," he says to her. "Because your husband got me out of my uniform and into a robe and underwear - not the underwear I was wearing with my uniform - at mach 4."

"Those were some fetching boxers, Bruce," and it's warm teasing, the kind that comes with her leaning up to nuzzle at his jaw. He invited her over, he's mentioning a time when they'd danced, when he'd tried to romance her. ...when he'd aggravated the shit out of her, but she'll forgive it. He's been good. He's handled their little invasion with quite a lot of grace, really.

And she doesn't want to speak the words, knows that words make things complicated. She's a wordsmith, after all. Her spelling might be questionable, but her ability to write is breathtaking. She'd earned that Pulitzer, after all. Yet--

"I missed you, Bruce." And it's still just a little teasing, but it's the kind of note that someone like Bruce could easily read: it's teasing because if it's too much, if she's wrong about this, she wants to leave them both an escape hatch.

I hope you missed me too.

Clark is glad his back is on them so he can smile with impunity at Lois' soft words. Lois doesn't exactly hide her feelings, they wouldn't be able to fit so well if she did. But she doesn't broadcast them the same way Clark does. She keeps them close to her chest, to be used just as sharply as her words. The point is, that if she is telling Bruce that is because she feels it.

It had been a hunch, but there's a reason he's one of the best reporters the Daily Planet has to offer. He's usually right.

He comes back with a set of dark pajamas for Bruce, grey pajama bottom for himself and a bark, stylish nightgown for Lois (that might have made him raise an eyebrow). And once he's set it all next to them in the bed, he reaches to take off his cape. He's... really not good at a purposeful striptease, so doing it slowly will have to do.

What can he say to that? He's always been here-- no, he hasn't been. Bruce makes himself unavailable to most everyone, barring requirements of the work Batman does, and it's only become more severe as the years have gone on. So he chooses to say nothing, and instead turns his head to catch her in a soft kiss. He's missed her in his own way, even if that way involves his terrible ability to cut out parts of himself. Being with Lois all those years ago was a risk he shouldn't have taken; she's too smart, too stubborn, too much of what he likes. He was never going to be able to give her what she deserves.

He resettles after and raises his hand from Lois's side to rub the back of her neck, fingers running along her hairline, tracing patterns. He'll never have the superhuman dexterity of a Kryptonian, but hopefully he's got his own charms. Speaking of Kryptonians: Clark isn't terrible to look at. Does he like watching Bruce and his wife curled up together, in return?

Lois arches her neck to his touches, clearly enjoying the attention. She'd been thinking that tonight wasn't about her, that tonight was for the two of them, but she's realizing now that if this is ever going to really work instead of just creating a new paradigm for frustration, it's got to be about all three of them.

So she leans into the touch and gives him a warm, hazy smile at the touches before focusing on Clark. Who, despite having no experience in striptease, is positively gorgeous. It certainly helps.

Thinking similarly, she shifts a little closer to Bruce and leans up to kiss his cheek again with her eyes still focused on Clark. What does Clark think?

"Well, I certainly like the view."

That's pretty much what Clark thinks, and the light in his eyes should make it clear that he's definitely enjoying it. He'll have to give Lois a pointed look later for pushing him to act on his feelings when she was keeping quiet about hers, but he understands where she was coming from. Maybe she doesn't even understand her feelings yet, just like Clark did. But what he sees here is two people, two people he needs more tan air itself and if he gets to be the bridge for them to realize they need each other too... he'll take it.

He starts taking off his suit. He's done this for Lois before, and he's had to be naked in front of Bruce enough times it shouldn't be an issue. And yet, it is. But the good thing about the suit is that it's mostly one piece once he's gotten rid of the briefs, so there's not much time for second guessing.

"Was that slow enough?"

"Suitably."

There's a kind of safety net to being teasingly sexual about it-- taking the edge off of the seriousness. Bruce gives Lois another squeeze before he disentangles himself and moves to stand. "I have to redo my ribs," he says, somewhat apologetic as he grabs the other pair of pajamas (that aren't Selina's). "Give me a few minutes."

Bruce closes the bathroom door behind him. Clark has seen him in various states of undress, but always for some emergency or with the latex he uses to hide his scars - which he obviously doesn't have on now. He's a lot more cut up than Lois will remember, too. No need to dive into that deep end right away, especially given that he's already injured.

Lois, for her part, gives him an approving little smile before turning on the bed to present the zipper to her shirt and skirt. Her hands lift to hold up her hair.

"I know what you're thinking, Clark," and she keeps her voice low but not whispered. Shameless to the end, or maybe she just believes that Bruce deserves a sporting chance to hear the discussion. She's never been a fan of secrets in relationships, after all.

"And what it comes down to is that I wasn't going to say anything until it was right for both of us."

Clark is still frowning at the door when Lois begins to speak to him, before he reaches for the zipper he's pulled down so many times to count. And yet it feels different. Everything since the moment Lois started waving the eggplant around has been different.

And yet Bruce closes the door behind him. And he knows he should be fair: he did get hurt today, for Clark's sake. He probably doesn't want to worry them any more than necessary. And yet he still wishes that door didn't have to close.

"I understand." He leans to press a kiss to the corner of her lips because he does. He might wish things didn't have to be so complicated, that it were easier for them to just admit to their feelings but he does understand it's not that easy. "And I'm not rushing you. But eventually he'll figure it out.

You have to tell him."

Bruce takes his time. He has to check a wound - almost fully healed and looking like a bruise by now - and re-wrap his injury, which is genuinely somewhat time consuming even if he wasn't stalling a little to give them a minute. (To give himself a minute, too.) As he washes his face in very cold water, the stray thought flits through his head that he's probably-definitely well enough to give Clark a blowjob without jostling anything.

Christ.

Just a few hours ago life made sense.

He can hear the low murmur of conversation from outside still, and so detours to brush his teeth.

He'll hear the next thing Lois says.

"I'm telling him, Clark," and she doesn't exactly raise her voice but she doesn't keep it down either. She's not keeping it a secret. She's just not being direct, which should make her break out in hives, but it is what it is.

"But he's got a lot to swallow with you." Her voice dips a little then. "And I think things are working out a little already. He's a smart man, thankfully."

A pause before--

"Who's been brushing his teeth a REALLY LONG TIME."

"I think he's taking it rather well. I'm the one who needed time to adapt, apparently."

Had it been anyone else, the joke with the 'swallow' part should have been obvious. Because it's Clark, he lets it go without a comment. Lois got them where they are right now, so he has to trust her she'll get them all together in this in her own way. Problem is, he knows how sometimes her own happiness doesn't even register as a goal. He'll have to make sure he makes it one of his priorities, Bruce's happiness being the other. Then he frowns, looking at the door again. At this point that door and Superman aren't going to be friends.

He raises his voice a little.

"Everything okay there, B?"

"Just practicing my swallowing," he says, loud enough to be clearly heard from the other side of the door.

(Bruce has the actual worst sense of humor in the world. They knew this before they came over.)

The door does not open. The lower edge of the wrap around his ribs is uneven, and now he's fussing with it. Stalling? Please, the Batman would never stall for time. How juvenile. This is perfectly calculated.

A perfectly calculated bit of stalling.

"Pro-tip!" Lois teases from the other side of the door, "the practical is way better than the practice."

A pause, a glance at her husband, and then a smirk that's audible enough.

"I know I'm looking forward to it when you're feeling a little better."

Clark lets out a startled laughter. At least the initial hysteria and nervousness seems to have left his voice completely, left only with slight embarrassment... and anticipation? Kind of. He isn't sure how far Bruce's willing to or if Lois herself has any hard limits on what he's allowed to do to her husband, but he's eager to find out. Because he realizes now that even if he hadn't really been consciously thinking about it his brain had apparently no problems providing him with very vivid imagery now that he's allowing himself to go there.

He presses a kiss on the back of Lois's neck, pulling her clothes down.

"If he swallows like he kisses I really don't stand a chance."

"Well, why bother doing it otherwise." He doesn't say that as loudly, though he knows they can hear him. Bruce does everything in his own way, meaning with extraordinary detail and intensity, and the umbrella of 'everything' of course includes blowjobs. Is that a threat or a promise? Who knows.

Finally he leaves the bathroom, still pulling the pajama shirt down over his chest. Pajama sets always leave even the most serious of men looking like overgrown eight year olds and Bruce is no exception, though it's just what he prefers sleeping in. (Or naked! But that's a no-go tonight.) He raises his eyebrow at Lois in Selina's negligee, and Clark shirtless. No complaints.

Lois tilts her head and raises an eyebrow, making sure it's not a complaint. She's just wearing what Clark found and well... there's nothing wrong with it. Not quite her style, but she can roll with it.

"The man has a point, dear," Lois says with a turn of a hand at Bruce. And, Clark would be happy to hear at some point, there are certainly no hard limits in her book. Hard limits would be against the very point of what they're trying to do.

"I've got full confidence that he's just as competent in bed as he is with a cape on. Though for tonight, he's just gotta show how competently he can share the covers." And yes, some of that confidence comes from practical experience, but not all of it.

Clark doesn't even bother listening to his body to know if that look is good or bad. Bruce has trained to steel those reactions from him, and he really doesn't like it when he does that. If he's going to start this thing, this three-way relationship or whatever they are calling it... it needs to come from a place of trust.

Clark needs to do serious research, but at least he's sure of that much. He holds his hand out for Bruce, as well.

"Luckily for both of you it looks like the bed has enough covers for all of us and some more. I'm actually looking forward to seeing how we fit together."

"That.. is probably going to be more difficult to coordinate than sex," Bruce says, his tone wry as he approaches the bed. Bruce has been effectively single his entire life, and sharing a bed has ever been something brief and post-coital. This huge thing in here? All his. He doesn't have a side. He sleeps in the middle and does the burrito thing unconsciously, because he hates being cold.

So: this will be fun. Or funny. Or they'll wake up because Bruce has stolen all the blankets and is dead to the world.

Lois considers the problem for a moment before slipping out of the bed to go grab something. What she returns with, well... it's really no surprise. The cape is nice and big and warm.

"I'm good. You boys can figure out covers between the two of you."

She loves her husband. She also, as it turns out, loves Bruce Wayne a decent amount. However, she remembers, thank you very much. Clark gets to discover this wonder of love all by himself.

That startles a chuckle out of Clark, who shakes his head in amusement.

"I guess that's fair enough, but I'm beginning to think there's something I should know." He glances at Bruce. He opens his mouth to say something- then closes it. Once more. It takes him a moment to figure out how to word it, because it feels like he should have been planning for this all along but in reality he's only had a few hours to process it.

"I want to feel you next to me when I wake up." And that's the less cheesy way he'd found to explain it, so go figure. "Can you- do you mind being in the middle?"

Alright, fine, Lois, be dramatic about it. Bruce raises one eyebrow at her but doesn't comment-- shouldn't you put that in the wash first, what if there's a bug in it. Etc. (Not that Bruce knows how to operate the washing machine here anyway.)

Then he's looking at Clark. That statement about wanting to wake up next to him is interesting. Maybe Bruce had given thought to sleeping for two hours and getting up to go back to work, or maybe that level of sentiment is still just too alien for him. There was a question, though.

"If you want."

He hops up on the mattress and settles in.

She gives him a raised eyebrow right back. A bug? Really? Hmph. Bruce, come on. But now that he's next to her, she leans over and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Clark gets a stroke on his arm as she reaches over carefully, squeezes his hip, and curls back up in the cape. It's actually quite warm, very soft, and it's definitely not the first time she's used it for something like this.

"We all good?"

Because when she drops off, she drops off. There will soon be a Lois-shaped rock in your bed, Bruce Wayne, so speak now or go the hell to sleep.

Lois Lane and her Complete Inability to Drown in Man Angst For Another Minute

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