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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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.

"I'm good."

He hovers on the other side, giving Lois a gentle smile as he reaches to touch her hand. He thought it was impossible to love her any more, but he'd been wrong. He'd thought that maybe, if Bruce knew- if they opened this door, his love would be divided. He wouldn't love Lois any less, but he imagined himself being pulled in two different directions.

Instead he feels like they have both been pulling him up. Making him who he is, making him a better person by raising up to what he stands for. Like he needed Bruce's love to love Lois completely, and viceversa.

He kisses Bruce's shoulder.

"Sleep well."

Bruce makes a 'hm' noise that passes as Goodnight, Lois in Waynespeak. He looks at her for a moment, contemplating something. Whatever it is, he doesn't share his thoughts with Clark-- who gets a look of his own as Bruce lays there, expression unreadable but clearly thoughtful.

In the dark he murmurs, "Sorry."

About. You know. Everything tonight. And maybe for not saying something sooner. Part of him wants to stay awake and talk quietly with him - but he's feeling almost skittish about this still. If he wasn't injured and they could just say fuck it and be sexual and passionate and sort it out that way, he'd be fine. He might even excel. But this is dark water, territory he's not learned in. So instead he concentrates on slowing his heart, his breathing, until he can fall asleep.

Three hours later, Clark will feel a light nudge to his shoulder. "Wake up," Bruce rumbles in a quiet voice, what passes for a whisper.

Clark shakes his head. Nothing to be sorry for, if anything Clark's the one that should be sorry he didn't even allow himself to consider this was an option until Lois smashed him in the head with it. It was there, within his reach and he didn't reach for it because he was- what? Scared?

He goes to sleep with gentle smile on his face, and wakes up instantly the moment Bruce calls for him. He'd be more worried something was wrong if he'd called for Lois, too- but the whisper means he just wants to talk to Clark.

He raises an eyebrow as he looks at him.

"Something wrong?" He figures he just wants to leave. And Clark did ask him to be there when he woke up, so this is the next best thing.

Right on the money.

"You wanted to wake up with me," he murmurs. Bruce can't hear it, not exactly - woken by shifts in ambient noise that tell him someone's taken the vehicle entrance into the cave - but he knows Dick's here. Regardless of what he's supposed to be doing tonight, Nightwing has dropped by, and since it's not an emergency he'll be wandering to the kitchen then up here to find Bruce and natter on about cases. He'll know even if Bruce is trying to sleep, now's about when he loses interest in it.

So. Here it is: waking up beside Bruce Wayne.

He slips out of his position (gingerly if you squint), careful not to disturb Lois, and his exit takes him over Clark. Who he sits on for a moment. He quirks an eyebrow in the dark, almost smirking, before he's off of him and slinking away to the closet to grab a real shirt.

Well.

That sure is something. He not only slept with Bruce by his side, Bruce actually listened to him and (technically) woke up with Clark. And now he's sitting on him. Clark might not actually need to sleep but when he reaches REM like any other human being and right now his brain has to reset t process that is happening. And this is real.

He steals a kiss before he goes, though.

"Tell me if Dick needs anything I can help with." Because of course that he hears Dick the moment he's awake. He doesn't make memorizing heartbeats a way to pass the time, but Dick is one of the most important people in his life.

And he doesn't want to leave Lois on her own.

"Will you be back?"

Clark's kiss is good. It almost makes Bruce want to stay-- maybe Clark feels that in how he moves away, the barely-there reluctance. But he can't let himself go down that road, especially not on day one.

From inside the closet he shrugs, knowing Clark will see. His own movement in the dark is a feat of memorization and habit instead of supersenses; he pulls his pajama shirt off over his head and drags a turtleneck on, going for trousers next. It's a quick affair.

--That shrug isn't a dismissal. He really doesn't know.

Clark wants him to stay.

But he also doesn't want Lois to wake up with no one in her bed. He's pretty sure she would understand, but he's also pretty sure she wouldn't really appreciate it. He was whispering, and it doesn't look like Lois stirred. It's too dark for sign language so he taps his fingers against the beed, making a tap-tap-tap sound.

He repeats it twice, making sure Bruce gets the Morse code.

'Thank-you-I-love-you'

After a few minutes, a Lois stirs from the depths of the bed and pops up from between the covers. She's groggy, clearly still sleepy, but she peers over at Clark as she realizes that they are -1 Bat from the bed.

"Sweetheart," and her voice is distant and wobbly but very warm. Affectionate, always. "Shoo. Go make sure he's all right." Beat. "Or bring him back. Want more sleep and he can" yawn "probably use it."

Clark nods, not needing to be told twice. Lois is apparently just confirming what Clark already thought, what he had been expecting. This is why he needs her by his side, and he's aware. He's been denying himself this for so long, not allowing himself to even think of the prospect that he doesn't know how to get out of the vicious circle. He might know he loves Bruce, but he still has to learn how to do it properly.

"I'll bring him back." And off he goes.

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