Investigations Into
Interoffice Relations

Chapter 5

Jenny's resolution to not be a total creeper on her co-workers took a good beating today. She blamed it on Lois and Clark's own stupid in-joke giggling because really only besties since high school and committed couples had in-jokes involving filing.

"Should I even ask where I should stack these photos from archives?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Jenny." Clark lifted his glasses to wipe the corners of his eyes. "Okay. Sorry. We're professional now."

Lois honest to God snorted which set Clark off again and Jenny knew she should just give up and make a Tumblr full of captioned gifs about them already, like the sick, sad puppy she was turning out to be. Jenny slunk back to her pod to look at her life and look at her choices when who should come in to further mess her up but Cat Grant in her designer glory. All hope Jenny had of finishing real work disappeared when Cat recognized her.

"Darling! I'm so glad you're still here!" Cat kissed the air on either side of Jenny's cheeks. "We have to catch up."

"Actually, I have a deadline--"

"I'll talk to Perry about your silly little deadline."

"Actually, I have a pretty important list of phone numbers I need to--"

Cat swung Jenny around and out the door to the section of the strip mall where the temporary Caffe Artigiano lay. She ordered an espresso for herself and a cinnamon dusted latte for her. Jenny was surprised Cat remembered her drink. But she probably shouldn't have; in her line of work, Cat had to be as observant, if not more, than investigative reporters. It was really a pity she didn't use her powers for good.

"So, where have we gotten on our little project?" asked Cat.

"We didn't have a project, Ms Grant," said Jenny. "I didn't accept the offer. I'm really more interested in the city desk."

"This is city desk material!"

"More traditional city desk material."

Cat gesticulated curtly at the air, showing Jenny what she thought of "traditional city desk material." "If you want to make a name for yourself, you have to be the first to get out there, the first to break news no one else has."

"I know but that's not the type of news--"

"My site brings in half the hits for the paper's site and Superman dirt will drive that up even more."

"I get that, but I don't think--"

"And if there's nothing but the same old blurry streaks against the sky to post on the site, the hits drop! We don't want the hits to drop."

Jenny straightened. "Is that what this is about? You can't find more paparazzi pictures of Superman so you're going to make up for it by making up drama and dropping his name in it? Isn't that libel?"

"Implicate, speculate, and tease," said Cat. "Lawsuits only make the story more popular."

Standing up, Jenny said, "I'm really the wrong person for this, Ms Grant. I want to expose the truth, not obfuscate it. With all due respect to your audience, I think the Planet can aim a little higher than celebrity gossip for its readers. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go back to work." With her chin held high, she stalked back out of the café to the Daily Planet proper. She took the coffee though because groceries were stupid high and the three o'clock blahs were just around the corner.

Once she got to her desk, however, Jenny felt pretty sick. As much as she disliked Cat Grant's work, she was much higher on the totem pole than a mere intern. She had clout with The Powers That Be exactly because half the hits The Daily Planet got were from her column. With a few well-whispered words, Cat Grant could ruin Jenny's career before it even started. Jenny sat with her hands at her stomach. The coffee didn't taste quite that good any more.

"You okay?" Inez stopped in mid-stride at her desk.

"Lactose intolerance," said Jenny, waving at the coffee. "I have to finally admit I have a problem and I'm devastated."

"Use almond milk. It doesn't leave a weird aftertaste like soy."

"Thanks. I'll try that."

From across the room, Lois Lane shouted. "Olsen!"

Jenny shot to her feet. Inez stood up straighter in reaction to the tone. Doing her best not-a-run, Jenny reached Lois' desk in a couple seconds. "What do you need?"

"I've got a lead on the smuggling story that might need another camera lens. Think you can keep up?" Lois toed off her heels for a pair of sneakers tucked under her desk, and slipped her wallet in a back pocket.

"Sure!"

"Grab your gear and meet me here in five."

Jenny most definitely ran back to her pod. The swirling in her belly had changed to something else entirely-- a combination of excitement, fear, and satisfaction. She swung her camera bag over one shoulder and thumbed through her own wallet for her driver's license, phone, and press pass. She'd have to lock the rest up but all the important stuff was with her any way so whatever, locker room thief.

She was back at Lois Lane's desk so quickly, Lois didn't quite have time to close down the chat window on her phone. Clark Kent had apparently typed "your turn for laundry" to Lois. But for once, Jenny didn't care about that as much as the opportunity to work on something with real substance for once. So Lois and Clark were together. So what? Jenny Olsen, rookie photojournalist, was on the job.

(Okay, maybe she cared a little)

"Of all the times for the stupid server to go down!" Lois pounded her fist on her desk. "Stupid piece of-- argh!"

"Can you retrieve anything from the harddrive?" asked Clark.

The look Lois sent him would have withered trees.

He raised his brows. "Just asking."

"This isn't my first time at the IT rodeo, Smallville."

Clark spun his chair around and wheeled it to her of the desk to drop a kiss between her shoulder blades. Lois swatted his thigh, determined to stay irritated. Smiling, Clark tickled her belly, foiling her escape attempts with kisses to her ear, her cheek, and the rounded bone of her shoulder.

"Not on company time," said Lois.

"We're at home."

"Working from home." She narrowed her eyes at him when he laughed and kissed her chin. "You have a deadline, too."

"I'm finished."

"No fair using super speed typing."

"All's fair in love and deadlines." He danced his fingers up Lois' sides into her armpits, pleased when she had to muffle a snort.

"Stop it, Clark! I mean it."

Resting his head on her shoulder, Clark said, "Break for lunch."

"Remember how thirty seconds ago the computer ate my article?"

"And it's not going to get any more lost if you take a thirty minutes to eat." He headed for the fridge. "I'm craving banh mi or pizza. What about you?"

Lois didn't reply. Sighing, Clark called the banh mi place to place their order while Lois continued to swear under her breath at the Daily Planet network. She hunched close to her laptop screen as though daring it to take another swing. The hairs on her nape caught the afternoon sun. Wrinkles furrowed her brow and the space between her eyebrows. Her lower lip thrust out. The muscles in her jaw and temple drew tight. Clark thought there was nothing more beautiful than Lois concentrating on an assignment. She wore her determination unapologetically, her obstinacy as much a declaration as the House of El crest on his Superman clothes.

Want overwhelmed Clark. Not just sexual desire, although he had a healthy amount of that. He wanted to hold her where her body tucked perfectly into his. He wanted to ensure nothing in the universe would ever hurt her. He wanted to feel her arms wrap around his back so her hands rested under his shoulder blades. He wanted to keep her smiling. He wanted fall into the daily mundane with her because they'd never be mundane when she was around. He wanted to be with her, even if she didn't want him anymore, just to bask in the sunlight of her presence.

"Take a picture; it'll last longer," Lois said without looking at him.

Clark's cheeks heated. "Any luck?"

"I'm just going to try to recreate it. I'll spend just as long fighting with the network and, quite frankly, this particular piece isn't worth the aggravation."

"Good luck then." He pressed a quick kiss on the top of her head. "I'll fold laundry."

"You washed."

He shrugged, heading for the full hampers. "I don't mind. You're still working and it's a pretty quiet day for the second job."

To be honest, Clark liked the organized monotony of folding clothes. He went around a narrow accent wall, the only architectural piece in the loft, to the main space which held the kitchen, dining area, and living room. The couch was piled with clean laundry. He pulled out bottoms first, separating trousers requiring ironing from jeans and other casual wear. He'd only gotten to two jeans when Lois slipped her arms around his waist. She laid her cheek on the middle of his back. He laid his hands over hers.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi." Lois pressed a kiss right under his shoulder blade. She rubbed circles on his abdomen. Her touched warmed his front as the press of her body did the same to his back. He rested his hands on her wrists, content to fill his senses with her presence.

He found himself swaying, dancing without music. He turned to face Lois and hooped his arms low on her hips, still moving. She smiled up at him then snuggled back in. Her hands rested around his neck now; she scratched his nape lightly, her nails catching on his hair.

"What are we dancing to?" she asked.

"Pick something," Clark replied.

"Mmm, and have you silently judge my music choices, Mr Folk Rock and Alt-Country?"

Clark zipped to the computer to set a playlist. Lois was still laughing at her hair ruffling in the breeze he created when he returned to their embrace. They shuffled into a waltz as first few bars of the song came tinnily through laptop speakers.

"A ukulele? Really?" She squinted up at him.

"Ballads are just as good coming from musicians who don't wear tiger-print leggings."

"Honestly, Clark, I don't think even my dad listened to songs like this and he thinks playing my high school mix tapes backwards delivers satanic messages."

"Will you please stop ruining the moment, Lois?" He pulled her closer so he could rest his chin on the top of her head.

They'd made their way back to the office. Lois slowed her caresses on his neck, matching the rhythm of the song. Despite her objections, she seemed to know the lyrics; she mouthed them against his chest. "If you must cling to someone, now and forever, let it be me."

Clark pulled away just far enough to tilt her head up for a kiss. Lois tightened her hold on him. She nibbled on his lips then soothed the bites with soft licks. He loved the touch of her tongue against his. He loved the taste of her in his mouth and the moist ridges of her palate. He pulled her closer and higher still. Her knees came around his hips, her ankles locking behind his back. Her heels dug into his buttocks.

He cracked his eyes open just long enough to find the nearest surface. The kitchen counters held too much cooking equipment. Their dining table wasn't that sturdy. The couch was full of clean laundry. The accent wall, on the other hand, was right there. Clark only had to take three steps forward to press Lois against it. He rubbed up between her thighs. She let out moan, shivering, and tugged on his hair. Clark ducked his head down to work the sensitive tendons of her neck. Lois continued to grind herself against his groin.

"We just-- fuck!-- put up pictures," she said.

Clark ignored the non sequitor in favour of tracing the knobs of her spine as he pulled her shirt up.

"Clark, the--Oh God-- the frames are gonna fall off the wall."

"I'll put them up again," he murmured. He lapped at the sweat beading on her skin before they could slip down the curves of her breasts. He loved Lois' habit of wearing yoga pants around the house. Stretchy yoga pants were much easier to remove than dress slacks or jeans.

Lois kicked the pants off as soon as he pulled them down to her shins. She fumbled with the zipper on his jeans. Clark let her down, intending to release her only long enough to help her remove his clothes but Lois kneeled as she pulled his pants and briefs down then sucked on the swollen head of his penis. He let out a shout, slamming both hands against the wall. Something on the other side crashed.

Clark swallowed a profanity. He looked through the wall. "The, uh, armchair caught the bookcase. But not the books."

Lois let him go with a soft "pop." "You can re-arrange them quickly enough."

He wagged his head in a frantic nod. He'd re-arrange the whole apartment a dozen times if it meant she'd keep on doing what she was doing. Lois smirked; she must have known exactly what he was thinking, not that he was that hard to read. Angling his penis up, she licked a stripe from the skin stretched taut between his sac and the base of his length.

Gasping, Clark braced one arm on the wall, he pressed his face into his forearm. He couldn't look at her, not while she had one hand clenched on his thigh and the other working with her mouth to drive him completely crazy. She held him tight, her suction absolutely perfect, her tongue flicking all around him. He fought to gentle his thrusts, not wanting to hurt her. He counted backwards from one hundred in Kryptonian to stave off his orgasm.

She swirled the tip of her tongue around the ridge on the tip before releasing him. She nipped at his hip bone, sucking and licking a trail up his side, and all the while, she slicked her hands along him, rolled his balls in her palms, traced the slit at the tip with her nails. By the time Lois kissed the taut tendons of his neck, Clark had no coherent thoughts left. He pushed her up against the wall, pulled her legs over his elbows, and drove forward. Manila folders and stacks of paper flapped to the ground.

"Shit!" This time, Clark couldn't stop himself from swearing.

Chuckling, Lois said, "Too much sensitive material to do this here. Couch?"

"Clean laundry."

"Bed."

"Too far away."

"You can travel from here to Singapore in under an hour; the bed isn't too far away."

He flew, tilted a touch to the left, behind two tall, carved shelving units they'd bought off a library in Connecticut about to be demolished. The books and coloured glass backing the shelves provided enough privacy for the bed Lois argued for so vehemently when they furnished the place. Clark could fall asleep on any horizontal surface but he did appreciate the sensation of waking cradled in plushness and Lois. And that foam was incredibly durable considering how much abuse they tended to lay on it.

He landed on his back on the bed then immediately rolled over so Lois could have the soft surface. She hugged him with her legs and yanked his mouth back on hers, arching her back until she could find him, stiff and dripping, bobbing against her stomach. She was so wet, he didn't quite go in the first couple of thrusts but she held him in place and angled her hips just so. He let out another cry with the next push because, finally, God! finally, he was inside her and the world was wonderful once again. She leaned her shoulders back and braced her feet as she pushed up, changing the angle once more. He pulled her up into an embrace, needing more of her against him, wanting every possible inch of them touching, driving in and--

They rolled off the bed. Lois' elbow rammed into his throat. Clark jerked away and immediately scanned her for broken bones. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

Lois was laughing. "I'm fine, I'm fine, let's keep going."

"Your arm--"

"Your dick." She bounced on top of him, playful and sexier than anyone had any right to be.

They crawled back to bed. Lois made adorable little noises as she sucked kisses into his neck and shoulder. Clark realised the noises were muffled giggles. He had to grin as well. Cupping her head with one hand, he gave her a proper kiss on the mouth. Then he slid down on the bed to blow a raspberry on her belly. Lois screamed and kicked at his shoulders. Clark held her knees in place. Her heels dangled at his shoulder blades. He rocked his hips a few times over her mound before she had enough of that and put him in. She crossed her ankles behind his head. He cupped her rear with one hand and pressed his thumb up and down her slickness with the other. Her neck arched back, her jaw dropping open, and she braced her hands on the edge of the mattress above her head.

The next few minutes blurred into wet heat and sweat-slick limbs, muttered endearments and whispered commands, the tangled sheets and her soft curves, driving him closer and closer to the point where his entire world narrowed to the pulsing of Lois' body. When she came, sighing brokenly against his jaw, Clark pulled her hips flush against his and just rocked, unwilling to separate himself from her any more, even with this because he needed so badly, he needed her, wanted to never leave her, couldn't be apart, please always forever--

She was petting him when he came out of his orgasmic daze, her lips red, her cheeks rosy, her hair matted around her shoulders and his.

"If that's what old-timey country music does for you, I may have to expand my musical horizons," said Lois.

"They're classics for a reason," Clark said.

She twined her arms around him. He shifted so she could wiggle away from the wet spot. Their noses nearly touched as they lay on the same pillow. Clark could see the web of blue and grey in her eyes. She smiled. Her lashes fluttered downward, then glanced over his shoulder, then somewhere on his jaw before re-establishing eye contact. He returned her smile. For no reason he could understand, they chuckled. Once they started, they couldn't stop.

If there was anything better than laughing in bed with Lois, tracing the dip of her spine while she scratched at his scalp near his nape, Clark didn't know about it. And if they couldn't quite say the words yet, if past experience or logic still held them back, he could wait. He couldn't possibly love her this much if she didn't love him, too, so he would wait.

Clark noticed Lois writing the same four letters over and over on his neck while he drew a heart at the base of her spine. His smile grew wider. He wouldn't have to wait too long.

Section titles from Joshua Radin & Schuyler Fisk ~ Paperweight but the song they're dancing to is Reid Jamieson's cover of the Everley Brothers' "Let It Be Me"