Clark arrived at Bella Notte precisely at seven, adjusting his navy blue suit jacket as he waited near the entrance. The restaurant occupied a renovated brownstone in Metropolis's Little Italy, its warm lighting and intimate atmosphere making it popular for first dates. Through the windows, he could see couples at candlelit tables, sharing wine and conversation.
His superhearing picked up Lois's heartbeat before he saw her - a rhythm he'd grown to know better than his own. She rounded the corner wearing a deep burgundy dress that made his own heart skip. Her hair fell in loose waves, and she'd chosen minimal jewelry - just small silver earrings that caught the evening light.
"Right on time, Smallville," she smiled, and Clark felt that familiar warmth that had nothing to do with his Kryptonian biology. "And no brown suit. I'm impressed."
"I do own other clothes," he replied, holding the door for her. "Though I'm starting to think you have an unhealthy fixation with my wardrobe choices."
"Someone has to save you from yourself," she teased, but her eyes held genuine appreciation for how he looked tonight.
The maître d' led them to a corner table, slightly removed from the other diners. Soft Italian music played, and the scent of fresh herbs and garlic filled the air. Clark pulled out Lois's chair, earning an amused but pleased smile.
"Such a gentleman," she said as he sat across from her. "Must be that Kansas upbringing."
"Mom would never forgive me if I forgot my manners," Clark agreed, unfolding his napkin. "Though I seem to remember you making fun of those same manners when I first started at the Planet."
"I was wrong about a lot of things back then," Lois admitted softly, meeting his eyes. "Including you."
Their waiter arrived with menus and a wine list, giving them a moment to collect themselves. Clark selected a Tuscan red that made Lois raise an eyebrow.
"Hidden depths, Kent," she said after tasting it. "Where does a farm boy learn about Italian wines?"
"I traveled through Tuscany before college," he explained, careful to stick to his cover story. "Worked at a small vineyard for a few weeks. The owner, Giuseppe, insisted everyone understand wine before touching a single grape."
"Tell me about it?" Lois asked, genuinely interested. "We agreed no work talk, but your travels - that's different."
Clark smiled, remembering the actual weeks he'd spent in Italy, learning not just about wine but about the importance of tradition and family in Italian culture. "Giuseppe was in his seventies, but he could outwork people half his age. His family had made wine in that valley for generations. He taught me that good wine isn't just about the grapes - it's about patience, about understanding the soil and the weather and the subtle changes that make each vintage unique."
"You really loved it there," Lois observed, watching his face light up with the memory.
"It was peaceful," Clark admitted. "Simple, but in a good way. Giuseppe's wife, Maria, insisted on feeding all the workers like we were her own children. Every meal was an event - fresh bread, homemade pasta, vegetables from their garden. They taught me that taking time for meals, for conversation... it matters."
"Is that why you always make sure I eat during stakeouts?" Lois asked, her voice softening. "Those sandwiches you bring..."
"Mom's influence there," Clark smiled. "Though I did learn a few things about food during my travels. Speaking of which..." He gestured to their menus. "What looks good?"
They ordered - handmade pappardelle with wild mushrooms for Lois, osso buco for Clark. As they waited for their food, conversation flowed naturally, touching on childhood memories, favorite books, and the small details they'd learned about each other over their partnership.
"I still can't believe you read Asimov in the original Russian," Lois said, shaking her head. "You're full of surprises, Clark Kent."
"Says the woman who can recite entire passages of Tennyson from memory," he countered. "I heard you that night on the docks, waiting for that smuggling tip. 'Though much is taken, much abides...'"
"'And though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven,'" Lois continued softly, "'that which we are, we are.'" She took another sip of wine. "Ulysses always meant something special to me. The idea that even when we're not at our strongest, we still have value..."
"'One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will,'" Clark finished. "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
Their eyes met across the candlelit table, and something shifted in the air between them. Before either could speak, their food arrived - perfectly plated dishes that smelled divine.
"Oh my god," Lois moaned after her first bite of pasta. "This is incredible. How did you find this place?"
"Actually, Giuseppe's nephew owns it," Clark admitted. "When you mentioned wanting to try it, I may have called ahead to make sure we got a good table."
"You planned this," Lois realized, her expression somewhere between surprise and delight. "How long have you been waiting to ask me out, Smallville?"
Clark adjusted his glasses, a genuine nervous gesture as it always was when Lois was involved. "Honestly? Pretty much since you called me 'Smallville' that first day."
"That long?" Lois set down her fork, studying him. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"You were... intimidating," he admitted with a small smile. "Lois Lane, star reporter, three-time Pulitzer nominee. And I was just the new guy from Kansas who wore the wrong suits."
"Clark..." Lois reached across the table, touching his hand. "You were never 'just' anything. I knew that even then, even when I was giving you a hard time about your ties."
Her touch sent warmth through his entire body. "When did you know?" he asked softly. "That maybe we could be more than partners?"
Lois thought for a moment, absently tracing patterns on his palm with her thumb. "Remember that story about the homeless shelter closing? How you spent three days tracking down former residents, giving them voices in the article? You didn't just report the facts - you made people care. That's when I started seeing you differently."
"I remember you bringing me coffee that week," Clark smiled. "Even though you always said getting coffee was 'beneath Lois Lane.'"
"You needed it more than I needed my pride," she shrugged, but her eyes were soft. "That's another thing about you, Clark - you make me want to be better. Not just as a reporter, but as a person."
"You've got that backward," Clark said softly. "You're the one who inspires people, Lois. The way you fight for truth, stand up for the voiceless... you never back down when you know something's right."
Their food forgotten, Lois intertwined her fingers with his. "Maybe that's why we work so well together. Your compassion balances my drive. Your patience tempers my intensity."
"Though you still get us thrown out of casinos occasionally," Clark teased, referencing Vegas.
"That dealer was definitely cheating!" Lois protested, but her laughter took any sting from the words. "And you have to admit, the story we got was worth it."
"I thought we agreed no work talk?" Clark raised an eyebrow.
"Right, sorry," Lois took another bite of her pasta. "Tell me more about your travels? I want to hear about the places that shaped Clark Kent."
Clark shared carefully edited versions of his pre-Superman journeys - the monasteries in Tibet where he'd learned meditation, the villages in Peru where he'd studied traditional healing practices. Lois listened intently, asking thoughtful questions that showed genuine interest in understanding his experiences.
"What made you choose journalism?" she asked as they shared a tiramisu. "With all those experiences, you could have done anything."
Clark considered his answer carefully. "I wanted to help people understand each other better. Show them that beneath our surface differences, we all share common hopes and fears." He smiled slightly. "Plus, I had this amazing writer as inspiration - someone who showed me that the truth, well told, could change the world."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Kent," Lois smiled, but her cheeks flushed slightly. "Though I seem to remember you challenging my first draft of that corruption story pretty forcefully."
"You had all the facts, but you were missing the human element," Clark defended. "The impact on real people's lives."
"And you were right," Lois admitted. "That's another thing I lo- admire about you. You're not afraid to stand up to me when it matters."
The almost-confession hung in the air between them, making both their hearts race. Clark found himself leaning forward slightly, drawn by the candlelight playing across Lois's features and the warmth in her eyes.
"Lois," he said softly, "I should have done this a long time ago."
"What's that, Smallville?" Her voice was equally quiet, intimate.
"Asked if I could kiss you."
The moment stretched between them, electric with possibility. Then Lois smiled, that brilliant, fearless smile that had first captured his heart.
"Well?" she challenged gently. "Are you going to ask?"
Instead of answering, Clark leaned across the table. Their lips met softly at first, tentative and sweet. Then Lois's hand found his cheek, and the kiss deepened into something that made Clark forget about controlling his powers, forget about Superman and SHIELD and everything except the woman who saw him - really saw him - even without knowing his secret.
When they finally parted, both slightly breathless, Lois's heart was racing in a way Clark had never heard before. His own pulse thundered in his ears, his enhanced senses overwhelmed by her nearness.
"Wow," Lois whispered, her eyes still closed. "That was..."
"Yeah," Clark agreed, equally affected.
They shared a smile that held volumes of unspoken understanding. The rest of dinner passed in a pleasant haze of quiet conversation and lingering looks, both acutely aware that something fundamental had shifted between them.
Later, as they walked through Centennial Park, Lois slipped her hand into Clark's. The night was cool but clear, stars visible despite Metropolis's ever-present lights. They stopped near the fountain, its gentle splashing providing a peaceful backdrop.
"You know what's funny?" Lois said, turning to face him. "All those years of chasing stories, looking for the next big scoop... and the best thing I found was right at the desk next to mine."
Clark's heart soared higher than any physical flight could take him. "Lois Lane, was that almost romantic?"
"Tell anyone and I'll deny it," she warned, but her smile was radiant. "I have a reputation to maintain."
"Your secret's safe with me," Clark promised, the irony of his words not lost on him. Someday, he knew, he'd have to tell her everything. But for now, this moment was perfect just as it was.
They kissed again under the stars, the fountain's mist creating a subtle rainbow in the park's lights. For once, Clark didn't hear the city's constant calls for help, didn't feel the weight of his dual identities. Here, with Lois, he was simply Clark Kent, falling deeper in love with the most remarkable woman he'd ever known.
"So," Lois said when they finally parted, "was this worth waiting three years for?"
"Every second," Clark replied without hesitation. "Though maybe we shouldn't wait that long for our second date?"
"Tomorrow?" Lois suggested. "My place? I can't cook like your mom, but I make a mean takeout order."
"It's a date," Clark agreed, his smile reflecting all the joy in his heart.
They walked back to Lois's apartment building hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing. At her door, they shared one more kiss - longer, deeper, full of promise for tomorrow and all the days after.
"Goodnight, Smallville," Lois said softly. "Thank you for... everything."
"Goodnight, Lois," Clark replied, watching until she was safely inside.
As he walked home through the Metropolis night, Clark felt lighter than air - and for once, it had nothing to do with his powers. The woman he loved saw him for who he was, even if she didn't know everything yet. Somehow, that made him feel more super than any feat of strength ever could.
—
One month later...
The children's squeals of delight echoed across Robinson Park as Superman descended from the sky, his cape billowing gently in the autumn breeze. A small crowd had gathered around the old oak tree where eight-year-old Sarah Miller's orange tabby, Mr. Whiskers, had been stuck since morning. The cat, seemingly unimpressed by its would-be rescuer's powers, merely yawned as Superman floated up to its perch.
"Here, kitty," Superman said softly, extending his hand. From somewhere in the crowd, a phone started playing what had become unofficially known as "Superman's Theme" - the John Williams composition that had taken the internet by storm after someone set footage of his rescues to the triumphant orchestral piece.
Mr. Whiskers considered the offered hand with feline skepticism before finally allowing himself to be collected. Superman floated down to where Sarah waited, her eyes wide with wonder.
"I think someone wants to go home," he said, carefully transferring the cat to her arms.
"Thank you, Superman!" Sarah hugged her pet tight. "Mom says you're busy saving the world, but you still helped Mr. Whiskers."
"No rescue is too small," Superman replied, kneeling to her level. "And besides, I get to meet brave girls like you who love their pets so much."
From the Daily Planet building across the street, Lois Lane watched the scene unfold, unable to suppress her smile. In the month since their first meeting, she'd seen this softer side of Superman more and more - the way he took time for the small moments, especially with children. It reminded her of Clark somehow, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.
Thinking of Clark brought a different kind of warmth to her smile. The past month had been... extraordinary. Their relationship had deepened in ways that still surprised her. Movie nights where they fell asleep on her couch, weekend breakfasts where Clark proved his farm-boy cooking skills weren't limited to just coffee, long walks through the city where they talked about everything and nothing.
In Washington, the aftermath of President Ellis's address continued to ripple through the corridors of power. SHIELD's newly established Superman Liaison Office buzzed with activity, monitoring screens tracking the Man of Steel's movements and analyzing his growing cultural impact.
"The polling data is remarkable," Alexander Pierce noted, reviewing reports with Nick Fury in SHIELD's secure conference room. "Approval ratings over 90% among children under 12, hovering around 85% for the general population. Even the usual skeptics are coming around."
Fury studied the footage of Superman at the children's hospital where he'd danced with patients to David Bowie's "Starman," teaching sick kids to float while the music played. "He's playing it smart. Building trust from the ground up. The kids love him, which makes parents trust him, which influences policy makers."
"Some would say too smart," General Ross interjected from the doorway. "All this public goodwill makes it harder to maintain proper oversight. The UN's proposed superhuman registration protocols are losing support. People don't want to regulate their new favorite hero."
At LuthorCorp Tower, Lex Luthor watched the same footage with increasingly dark fascination. Project Metallo's labs hummed beneath the building, where John Corbin underwent daily treatments with the mysterious minerals. But Lex's attention was fixed on the screens, studying Superman's every movement, every gesture.
"Something bothering you, son?" Lionel entered without knocking, as was his habit. "You've been... distracted lately."
"Just thinking about patterns," Lex replied carefully. "Superman's mannerisms, his speech patterns... there's something familiar about them." He turned to his father. "Have you noticed how he holds himself when talking to civilians? The way he adjusts his posture to seem less intimidating?"
"A calculated performance," Lionel dismissed. "Though I admit, he plays his role well. The children especially seem convinced."
"It's not a performance," Lex muttered, more to himself than his father. "That's what's been nagging at me. The genuineness, the Kansas farmboy sincerity..." He trailed off, a thought taking shape that he wasn't quite ready to examine.
Back at the Daily Planet, the morning meeting was in full swing. Perry White had established a dedicated "Superman Desk" to handle the constant flow of stories, though he insisted on maintaining balanced reporting.
"We document, we don't deify," he reminded his staff. "Yes, he's doing incredible things. But we're journalists, not cheerleaders."
Lois, taking notes beside Clark, felt her partner tense slightly at Perry's words. She'd noticed Clark had become more thoughtful lately when discussing Superman, often offering insights into the hero's possible motivations that proved surprisingly accurate.
"Speaking of documentation," Perry continued, "the six-week analysis piece - where are we on that?"
"Almost finished," Lois replied. "Clark and I are focusing on the societal impact, particularly how Superman's presence has affected emergency services and community engagement."
"Good. And the political angle?"
"SHIELD's been surprisingly cooperative," Clark added. "Their liaison office provided detailed statistics about how Superman's activities have reduced response times and casualty rates across the board."
"Though some politicians are pushing back," Lois noted. "Senator Stern's calling for more oversight, claiming Superman's popularity is making people overlook potential security concerns."
After the meeting, Clark and Lois retreated to the break room, where he automatically started making her coffee. Their easy domesticity hadn't gone unnoticed by their colleagues, though most were tactful enough not to comment directly.
"You seem worried about something," Lois observed, watching him measure the vanilla creamer with practiced precision.
"Just thinking about the political implications," Clark replied carefully. "Superman's trying to help, but his presence is changing everything - laws, policies, how people see their place in the universe."
Jimmy Olsen burst in, camera in hand, practically vibrating with excitement. "You guys have to see this!" he exclaimed, pulling up footage on his camera's display. "Superman just did something amazing!"
The footage showed Superman at Metropolis Children's Park, where he'd apparently been giving an anti-bullying talk. Someone had started playing his theme music, and the Man of Steel had surprised everyone by lifting the entire playground - swings, slides, and all - a few feet off the ground, giving the delighted children a zero-gravity experience while the music swelled triumphantly.
The moment was broken by Cat Grant's arrival, waving a press release. "Guess who's hosting a gala to honor Superman's positive impact on Metropolis? Our very own Lex Luthor!"
"Next month at LuthorCorp Tower," Cat confirmed. "All proceeds going to children's charities. Very PR-savvy, if you ask me."
"Or he wants to get Superman in a controlled environment," Lois mused. "Study him up close."