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( She listens to him speak, listening to his heart, his lungs, all the not so little things in the scheme of things. Particularly his heart. She's not sure she's ever met someone with a metaphorically bigger one, or probably a literally stronger one. Not the same as being invulnerable to what hurts. Her mind's swirling past biology into the rest, and she reins it in, back to what he's saying. )

Mmm. ( She nods just enough for the motion to telegraph, eyes half open. ) Or think about different approaches. Which you've done more of, just...

( Lois breathes in, then out, allowing herself a sigh. )

Taking it day by day, you aren't going to be the only heavy hitter around. So these last two weeks are one kind of hell I didn't want you or Jon to live through, but adjusting how you look at things... do you know I feel both pretentious and worried even mentioning this?

( She doesn't have so much energy left after their very enjoyable antics to really laugh much, but Lois still manages to chuckle, eyes opening a touch wider. Her head's just quieting down enough she's not thinking about home-specific-concerns on top of here-and-now ones, but conversations with Kell have been illuminating in that whole perspective shifting way. Out of the 'Supers,' he's the only one who hadn't been freaked out at losing his innate biological advantages when on a yellow sun world.

And that... is... horribly telling for the life he's also lived, which isn't the point. The point is maybe they all need more consideration in whatever form for the lives they lead. )

... We can get a knew butcher's knife tomorrow.

( ... To replace the one she stabbed a flesh monster nerve cluster with. )

[It's easy to be distracted from the topic at hand by the feel of Lois' body against his, the sight of her head resting on his chest. Clark could gladly serve as her pillow for the rest of his life, or at least the rest of the night. He hopes that she's listening to his heartbeat, can hear how strong it is now, stronger every minute they're away from the fog.

He's okay. They're going to be okay.]

You're allowed to be pretentious and worried. Not that you sound pretentious. But I know it's hard to be on the sidelines, watching, not able to do as much as you want to do.

[Which had been part of why he'd acted in Jarhanpur. No more waiting and watching; he'd had the capability to help, so he'd helped. But it hadn't been enough, not really, and weeks later he'd had to do too much watching, no longer able to help — not for a while, and then not in the way he'd wanted.]

We can get a new knife. [Clark laughs a little at the topic swerve, wrapping his arms around Lois and leaning to press a kiss to her hair.] I think I should move in.

[Topic swerve, meet topic swerve. Except it makes sense to him.]

Edited 2025-10-15 17:24 (UTC)

( Pretentious probably wasn't the right word, but it captured some of how she feels about it: conflicted because she is not, and does not, plan to make the superheroic calls, and if in any world she had metahuman abilities, she'd be far closer to members of the Justice Gang than what Clark Kent represents through his Superman self. Not for a lack of pursuit of truth, of different forms of similar hopes, or the desire for justice, but just by being different people who approach problems in different ways.

So not pretentious, but a little bit pretentious, the ways she worries. And sitting on the sidelines isn't as hard as she once imagined it might be, because she's never just sitting there, but that'd been tested several times in the last few months, and the answer is: she moves when she needs to move. So what, specifically, is she worried about?

(Rashness. Love it and hate it alike, but rash decisions, and unthought consequences.)

Easier to listen to his heartbeat and make a sort of hum of agreement, since he's also not wrong. It's also not a complete picture, but she's feeling more warm fuzzy brained than break it down and lay out what she sees, or feels, or how the two conflict. Logic and emotion.

She also hums for the new knife, with a smile on her lips. The press of his lips on her hair has her arching up a bit, enjoying the feeling of him as she does so. It's enough to be distracted for two heartbeats before his last and most interesting topic swerve acts like a jolt of delayed adrenaline in her system and she manages to sit up, straddle him, and yelp: )

Wait, now?

( While looking down at him from a frankly pleasing angle, catching up with her own mouth a moment later to realize that statement itself made zero sense. Likewise the follow up of: )

Oh. Uh. ( Lois blinks. Licks her lips. Kneads at his stomach a little with her hands, thighs tightening at his sides. ) I... we... basically... so logically... yeah. You should. Move in. Here?

( She squeaks that last word. She looks confused that she squeaked that last word. Lois licks her lips again then nods her head, causing her hair to spill down over her shoulders. )

Yeah. Okay. Yes. That. Moving in.

( Logically she does know they've basically been doing that even with 'two' apartments worth of keys, just switching off which one they're in, but she's still having her brain trip over this while going "when did you last live with anyone you were dating" and "okay but you basically have been living with him" to "my brain will not shut up," but nothing indicating she's panicking. Just in sudden brain overload, way more awake than she'd been a moment ago. Also apparently more energized, short lived as it'll probably be. )

[If Clark is completely honest with himself, he knew this reaction from Lois was well within the range of 'likely', maybe even 'most likely', knowing who she is and what she's like and what emotional hang-ups she carries around even now. He's been sure about them for much longer than she has. But being completely honest with himself also means admitting he'd hoped for a smoother response, easy agreement, not Lois' equanimity clearly knocked askew.

It doesn't change anything about how he feels about her, how he thinks they're doing as a couple. And Clark is one hundred percent sure that Lois loves him (as if she would ever say it back only because he said it first.) But, yeah, a happy 'yes please' would have been nice.

It's okay, though. Just means he'll have to use his words and explain his thinking to get her real answer — because he's not going to take a startled, stammered yes as a true go-ahead.]

Hey, I don't have to. Only if we're both good with it.

[Clark moves his hands to rest on Lois' hips, steadying her and...trying not to get too distracted. Several rounds of lovemaking have left him pretty darn sated, but he's still looking up at his naked girlfriend who's suddenly straddling him and he's got an excellent view of her breasts from this angle and it's not not doing anything for him.

He focuses on meeting her eye and not letting his gaze drop down. Because he'd do anything for Lois, yeah, and never take more than she wants to give, but he needs to be able to say what he thinks, too, and not just defer to her. Especially now.]

But I think I should. It's kind of a moot point — have we even spent a night apart here on purpose? It's getting silly to pretend we're not effectively already living together.

[Clark is used to going to sleep to the sound of Lois breathing, used to reaching for her in the morning before he's completely awake. They'd spent plenty of nights and mornings together those first three months of dating in Metropolis, sure, but this is different. They're different.]

And I want to. I could have gone on as we have been for a long time and it would have been fine, but after all that happened with the fog... [His fingers tighten on her, nearly imperceptibly.] I love you. I love our son. We're already a unit. I want to be a unit.

( She shifts a little when his hands are on her hips, partly arching her back because it pulls her shoulders back, partly because it better supports her chest, lets her breathe more easily, lets her try to collect her thoughts and think. One hands comes to rest over the top of Clark's at her hip, the other hand spayed across his abdomen, right in front of her pelvis. Thinking. Not being distracted, which would be easier, feeling a little like when he'd asked her why she'd said what she said in her apartment as they sat in the dark of his. Trying to find words for things she's bad at, when she's so good with words in so many other situations. Understanding her own emotional impulses when they're not motivated by logic isn't easy for her.

He and his parents just loved. How do people make it look so easy? She knows it isn't easy, per say, but even the appearance of such a natural way of feeling is something for her to chew on and over. What he's saying isn't wrong. Hell, she agrees: they haven't spent a night apart by any intention here, and she doesn't want to start. Lois's brow furrows a touch, her tongue passing over her lower lip before she catches it lightly between her teeth.

Why am I hesitating?

Does it feel fast? Or is it because it doesn't when normally it would? Does the word unit have a strange sort of warming and also echoing effect in her ribcage, pounding off tempo to her heartbeat? She doesn't pretend her heart-rate hasn't picked up a touch, but it's from that initial movement, not continuing to skyrocket, and while not fully settled back into the resting rate she'd just been lounging on top of him with, it's not any indication of fight or flight. (With Lois, largely meaning fight.)

So what is it? There's a stark simplicity as she settles down more heavily against him, going from propping herself up some with her legs as she straddles him to letting him take all her weight. Her hips aren't entirely sure they like this right now, not after their recent antics, but it's not painful. Mildly uncomfortable. Bearable.

Why? She releases her lip, holding Clark's gaze. If she knows it or not, her tells included how and when she looks away. There's no looking away for this duration, just the quiet as she thinks, eyes on his. She's not trying to invent or justify anything when she says: )

I think I do too. And Clark, that scares me a little.

( In ways that so many things in the world don't. She trusts him, inherently and without hesitation. She's learning to trust herself in this, too, but it's not rock steady, and that bothers her, aimed at herself. The pretense of separate living spaces was in fact a pretense. Admitting that, admitting that she wants to be sharing a home with him, that their son-who-is-and-isn't is a factor too, is scary for hard to pin down reasons.

Having people to love, and people to lose, where it strikes so hard and deep without even trying sort of pisses her off because she can't always protect them. But it's more overwhelmingly emotional, mixing up love and affection and growing pains and attraction and joy and the petty annoyances that are normal in human relationships, and thinking, oh, we can keep making it through all that and actually believing it that gives her longer pause. )

And I don't know if I really understand why.

( She sure as hell isn't scared of him. She's not scared of Jon. She's not even sure she's actually scared of herself, for all it hits closer than either of the Kents in her life these days. Is it so... new, wanting this, that actually admitting to and acting on it is why she hesitates?

If so, that annoys her. )

Which is kind of irritating me.

( A breath in through the mouth, out through the nose. )

I love you, and even if I doubt this is anything like what Jon's birth-mom feels, I love him too. And I want you here. ( A pause, and she does finally glance away, though it's toward the bathroom. Not avoidance, as much as part of her would enjoy that to focus on other things, like enjoying straddling her naked boyfriend after she'd thought they were both fully worn down. She still does on some level, but it's not the present Point. ) Can we keep talking about this while we clean up?

[He can see her thinking through it, the words practically written above Lois' head. Part of Clark wishes that were really the case, that he could just see exactly what's on her mind; it would make communication so much easier, for all that they've gotten a lot better at it these last couple of months. The rest of him thinks that would be cheating, and that it's so much more worthwhile to put in the work.

So he stays where he is, lying there silent, and waits for her to work through her thoughts. It's only iron self-control that lets him do it, because he's sure it's not on purpose but Lois arching her back and pulling shoulders back is really, really distracting. It's almost like she wants to derail the conversation by making her chest look as perky as possible, except that's not her. If she didn't want to have this conversation, she just wouldn't do it.

When she finally does speak, Clark's not terribly surprised by what she says.]

I think that's okay. To be scared, and not be sure why.

[It's not something he thinks she should just accept as a given. If it brings her distress, then by definition it isn't a state of being that should go on indefinitely. But accepting feelings for what they are and not what they should be is a good starting point, he thinks.]

And yeah, of course we can.

[He sits up as smoothly as possible without dislodging Lois, then cups her face gently with both hands as he kisses her. There's no real heat to it, he's not trying to get things started again when she just mentioned cleaning up, but he wants that extra point of contact for a moment before they go do that.]

C'mon.

[He steps into the shower first when they make it into the bathroom, turning on the water and waiting until he can feel it go warm before ushering Lois in. The apartments actually have very good plumbing and she might not actually need him to do a cold spray check, but he likes doing it. Clark can't pick out the right words to describe the reasons she feels what she feels, but he can make sure she only showers in hot water.]

( It's the thoughtfulness that makes her pay attention, even when unnecessary. That and the bonus of the overhead showerhead being the waterfall kind, meaning no matter how tall he is, and no matter what most angles they stand at, they're both under the gentler spray.

It feels nice, the hot water trickling down from her head and shoulders, and once they're both in, she lazily wraps her arms around Clark's hips and leans against him, drying, sweaty skin getting less water than if she gave him space, but they've got time for that. Let the rest of them warm up first. (Did they really need to warm up more?) )

I do like the idea of living with you. Probably a little strange for me that it's been... not even half a year and I'm okay with that. And not just here.

( Because here is where they are right now, but she doesn't think only in this present moment. Lois is also thinking home back in Metropolis, seeing Clark in her kitchen and in the living room and landing on that tiny balcony and in her bed and that all of that goes from being mine to being ours. Because unless for some extremely strange reason Jon can't be returned to his birth parents, who in this case aren't traumatizing assholes (with merits hard to see from present times, but merits that can't be unseen under consideration), when it comes to home, it'll be the two of them.

Oh, she thinks, This is part of it, isn't it? Not letting herself see a lack of hope in succeeding in this social experiment, not allowing herself to consign their world and universe to unmaking. They will have their world. So will Jon. So should everyone here, Luthor more because he's part fo their world (unfortunately) and even egocentric billionaires don't deserve to fail so badly their whole universe is damned.

So she hears, I think I should move in, and she sees Etraya and Metropolis as a continuation of that change, and yes, that's it. It's committing to a truth that doesn't end here.

Lois tilts her head back, allowing water to pool between them, finding its own avenues down. )

Really sharing space as a unit is a new one for me.

( Childhood doesn't lend the same situations, and short term rentals and living with roommates in university and the years right out hasn't been the same. If the hundreds of books and her particulars of decor and her thriving little plant back home don't indicate it, or the overstuffed kitchen and the coats hung in the hall leading to the door don't make it obvious, Lois has truly settled into her own bachelor life in a way that opening up is inviting the unknown. It's change. Which isn't bad, and she doesn't largely avoid it, just... Lois leans in, pressing a kiss to his breastbone. )

I'm going to be grumpy at times. More back home than here. Here hasn't had years of being just mine.

( Because of course, it's not just about now, and not just about temporary measures to her, which... One of them is better at living in the present moment than the other one. No surprise on which is which. )

[They were already pretty relaxed from all the before-this-conversation things that were happening, but the hot water does good work in relaxing from the bits of tension that arose these last few minutes. Clark can tell from both the easing rate of Lois' heartbeat as well as more obvious things, like the way she leans on him beneath the water.

He encircles her shoulders with his arms and doesn't worry too much about how fast they're getting wet. There's plenty of time and plenty of water.

For a little while he just enjoys the feel of it, the warm water and the closeness with Lois, which he can never get enough of. When she speaks, she surprises him — not with her conclusion she comes to about their time here, but about what it'll mean if they make it home. When they make it home. And he has to smile, brighter than even he would have expected.]

I wasn't really thinking about anything but here.

[Not that he wouldn't want to keep living with her back in Metropolis. Not that he doesn't want to keep taking steps forward together, every day of their lives.]

I already thought it might be pushing things to do it here.

[Which is in no way him saying no, he only means here, Etraya is Etraya and Metropolis is Metropolis. Of course he's okay with living together wherever they are.]

We'll figure things out together. And I don't mind grumpy Lois. I like her as much as I like all the other Loises.

( Lois squints up at him when he says he was only thinking about here, not surprised, but glad she's brought up that it's not what she was thinking. Lois is excellent at compartmentalizing, but if she starts down that path in personal relationships, she doesn't see it leading anywhere genuinely honest in the end. )

Maybe it is, but I'm not thinking short term.

( Not for this. Not in large and by all parts in anything they do, in a relationship, for the same reason she's so often looking forward in her life back home. Not because she's not grounded, and she is, a series of considerations of consequences and their cascading effects. She's just also the one who finds she gets swept up in moments because Clark is in her life now, and she rather... loves that, too.

Even if at other times she just wishes he'd pause a moment before acting. Right now is not one of those times. She even finds herself chuckling as the heat seeps into her skin, sinking deeper, into her bones. For a moment she's tempted to go boneless against him, but doesn't, instead tracing her hands down his backside to, ahem. Settle on his ass. )

Grumpy Lois can be a bitch.

( Lips quirked, eyebrows likewise raised. )

I know. I've lived with her for thirty years and counting.

Me either.

[She's got him for life, if she wants him. Clark isn't sure of a lot of things about how their lives are going to go from here, but he is very sure of that much. He's in love with Lois Lane. If there's really such a thing as The One, she's it for him.

He's still smiling, so maybe it blends in, but Clark can't pretend he's not happy with where her hands land. Really, they can go wherever they want. She's got an all-access pass.]

I've known her for three and still fell in love with her, so there you go. Actually, grumpy Lois is pretty hot.

[As are all Loises.]

( Bless him for not saying anything more than agreeing to thinking long term, because if he does want to see her balk again right now, it would be talking really long term. Her considering long term dating is what she's just gotten comfortable with: her accepting moving in is the process he's presently witnessing live.

Her hands give an appreciative squeeze, looking even more amused. )

I think you're a biased audience.

( She'd love to say she'd be less prone to being exactly herself, but she really isn't. Just more inclined toward being open and affectionate, beyond what her levels are with the coworkers she's close to at the Daily Planet. By and large especially Jimmy and Cat, though not exclusively so. )

Though that 'still' there is almost ouch worthy.

( Lois doesn't look remotely perturbed at this. It's a realistic evaluation of how she's not exactly sweet at work, and has never pretended or striven to be. Plus, she'd probably use the same word describing how she'd started noticing Clark. That sure as hell wasn't a simple, "and they were coworkers." The way he acts that isn't fully acting at work is part of how he is, and that had become endearing when time wore off the initial frustrations and started allowing her to appreciate his consistencies and quirks for what they were.

Not that she says any of that right now. She instead gives him a lazy sort of smile. )

Pass the body wash?

( She could reach for it. It's right there. )

What does really moving in look like to you?

( Lois, with her grand total of once or twice living with boyfriends of the past in temporary situations, can't really put a good picture together. Here it's easier: she'll hold off on thinking how merging homes might look back in Metropolis, though knowing herself, she'll still be thinking about that too. )

[Clark shrugs that off. Hey, he never claimed to be unbiased regarding Lois Lane and her many attractive qualities (yes even the grumpiness). It's not like he's writing articles about her.

He kind of thinks she'd be disappointed if he didn't have a clear mind regarding her prickliness as well as her soft spots. Like he wouldn't really know her.

(He grabs the body wash and squirts some into his hands before handing Lois the bottle. This can be a teamwork thing, too.)]

Practical stuff, for the most part. Bringing all my clothes and other stuff here, Jon not needing to carry his things back and forth or maintain two bedrooms. But also...thinking of this place as our place, so we both get an equal say. But that's more sentimental than anything.

[They both know Lois is better at making an apartment feel liveable.]

( Both hands now free, she takes the body wash and squeezes out her own dollop into one palm, jamming the bottle into the small shelf in the nearest corner. She's again for no particular reason very glad this shower's big enough that he can move around without elbows hitting everything, because that's clearly the concern with showers. Spreading the body wash between both hands, she reaches up and starts soaping up his shoulders and around the back of his neck, up on her toes. )

Okay.

( Practical things are easier. It was what they'd been doing, and while Jon's part of that equation, it wouldn't be the tipping factor for her. She's not that version of overflowing with maternal instinct; sure, being a Good Adult and loving him, but there's not some deep yearning ache of that's my kid. Maybe she'll never be that sort of parent. She won't spend energy wondering about the if's in that case when... anyway. It's not something they've discussed. That's a later thing. )

Equal say in what, specifically?

( That's more of an Etraya problem, given the lack of economy or regular avenues for Stuff and Things she'd expect back home, so it is a relevant question in her mind as she's soaping him up, and managing the calculus of limbs so he can do the same. )

[He leans into her soapy touch, letting out a quiet happy little noise. Strictly speaking, taking a shower isn't something that requires teamwork, but they are definitely good at doing it together.]

Also practical stuff. How stuff's laid out, what things go where, whether the toilet paper hangs over or under the roll. None of that's very romantic, but being at odds over it can make any living situation a hassle. At least you know I'm neat.

[To be fair, he doesn't have a ton of stuff to make a mess, but that's as true in Etraya as it is in Metropolis.]

( It's also more fun this way, and a better distraction and reason for sharing a shower, or something like that. Her hands really only pause for: )

Over the top.

( Look. Why let it dangle down the back. Why? She's back to soaping over the planes of his chest and then around his sides, stepping close so her hands are wandering with functional purpose of getting up to the middle of his back. )

Where you know I'm organized abundance that can in some lights look similar to chaos.

( Over-full might be the better word, since Lois definitely had everything organized and tucked away instead of left around. Here she's unlikely to end up with banker's boxes of files on corporations, but you never know. The walls of books are far closer to being in her reach. Also the lack of any romance in the minutia of living is, somehow, both appealing and a bit gut-dropping. She hasn't had to negotiate the small stuff since she started living on her own. )

No flannel sheets. I've never liked how they feel. Kitchen organization is however you want it, just leave me mugs where I can reach without climbing the counter.

( A pause before she tips her head back to look up to his face. )

Not that you haven't already organized the kitchens here.

( Lois has had very little stake in that race, aside from definitely making sure every easy to grab snack she's found at the various stores has made its way back here to the easy drawer and lower cupboard when it's not made entirely of sugar. Even with a sweet tooth, she keeps that mostly limited to the hard candies and the much worse form of sugar: whatever goes into her coffee. God, coffee. Too bad the caffeine actually works. )

[Obviously over the top is the correct answer. Clark nods along, encouraged that they are already aligned in the important stuff.]

I can live without flannel sheets. [Even if they are very nice for Kansas winters. This isn't Kansas, obviously.] I'll take a look at how the kitchen should go once I move my things over from the other kitchen.

[Yes, they've mostly been eating in one apartment over the other, but he hasn't always wanted to carry things next door, so there is some overlap. It's fine. This can be practice for how he and Lois will combine and/or weed out their possessions when they eventually move in together in Metropolis, too. Clark doesn't think of living together here as being any less real or meaningful than living together at home, but the idea does give him sort of a thrill.

He's got longer arms and the shower is large but not that large, so he can and does reach for the shampoo bottle without stepping away from Lois. Her hair has gotten drenched enough by now that he can start to give it a wash slash scalp massage.]

We'll have to mix and match pillows if we're sticking to one bed permanently. I know I like mine thicker than yours.

[Not so much that it's ever a consideration when he's just sleeping over with Lois. Clark is just happy to be there on those nights. But planning for the longer term, yeah, that's different.]

I probably won't cut down on number of pillows. You're a lovely body pillow, but sometimes I just need my own rigged equivalent.

( More of a side sleeper than a back sleeper, and not really one for stomach sleeping since breasts made it moot ages ago. Her hands on him slow into not so much helpful washing motions as little rubbing circles with her thumbs when he starts working on her hair. The slash scalp massage is getting her to close her eyes. Heck, the whole of the showering is helping her relax, which was part of the point.

She also likes being cleaner, however fun the sex is, as it tends to make her feel more clearheaded regardless of the reality. )

Is the dog a plant eater?

( The dog who isn't even here yet. )

That's fair. Bed's big enough for as many as we want, so it'll be fine.

[He's a back sleeper or stomach sleeper, depending on the day and how tired he is, but the important thing is that the bed is big enough for him. A king is the absolute bare minimum.]

Possibly. I don't have any plants in the fortress, but I'm not going to assume it won't be a problem until we know for sure.

[Scrub scrub scrub. It's kind of soothing to him, too.]

Maybe there's something we can spray on plants to make him avoid them.

( She only shifts so that it's easier for the water to run through her hair. Grounding details also make this real in a different way, and she co-opts the moment to lean back into him fully hair and skin against skin. )

I'm not always a peaceful sleeper. You may have noticed by now, ( it'd be difficult not to, Lois goes from sleeping tolerably to being a light sleeper to waking up gasping from nightmares, and that at present is about to get worse; ) but it's not a problem to wake me up. None of that sleep paralysis stuff.

( Her lips twitch down into a frown, before she slowly, painfully admits: )

I feel like anything we spray on the plants is just going to make him want to lick them more because we sprayed them.

( Tipping her head back and narrowing her eyes against the falling water: )

Bend down or kneel?

( Context would be useful, but the most she's giving is by reaching up to run her nails through some of his waterlogged hair. Hey, tall guy. )

[He's not immune to her leaning against him. Clark's hands go still for a moment as he smiles and presses a kiss to the top of her head. If that gives him a bit of a shampoo beard, oh well.]

I'll wake you up if it seems like you're having a bad dream. You don't have to worry about waking me up, though. I fall back asleep pretty easily and I don't actually need as much sleep as most people.

[For obvious implied reasons. Kryptonite recovery sleep marathons excepted. She's probably right about the plants, though, they'll just have to improvise.

He considers his options for a moment, but kneeling is just going to make him want to do more things that'll get them sweaty again, which will make them need to shower again, which could use up all the hot water. He bends down a few inches, far enough that Lois can reach where she needs to without getting dangerously up on her tiptoes.]

( Sharing is caring, even if sharing is what shampoo isn't washed out yet, and doesn't need to be. Don't most say let it sit? Or is that just conditioner. Lois isn't particularly caring to remember the particulars of hair care routines when her mind is filled with other things, so she ends up smiling at the kiss, and sighing a little when he makes the better call and tips his head forward.

Getting her own dollop of shampoo in her hands and rubbing them together, she lifts them and runs them through his wet locks, brushing them back first before she starts massaging the shampoo in with her fingers and nails. Which she needs to cut, she determines, the odd sort of thought that's not disruptive so much as witnessed and then dismissed for later.

It's what he says about not needing sleep that gets her expression to turn a little uncertain. Her voice is pitched low and soft when she asks: )

Clark... have you started thinking about if you want kids of your own one day?

( It's not about Jon. This is very much sounding out how much of the unhappy surprise of his bio-parents full message he is or isn't wrestling with on a personal revelations and processing personal wants irrespective of people's loving and misguided hopes. Probably a terrible thing to ask when they're talking about moving in together officially, but it's the same problem as earlier. Lois looking longer term to figure out what that looks like from each of their perspectives.

And how she has such trouble just indulging in the now alone when it's not physically and mentally engaging in a particular, focused moment. )

[Gosh, this feels good. Maybe they should do this more often. Clark makes a happy content sound until Lois brings up a completely different topic, and then he's just blinking in surprise, head raised, hair still full of foam.

Maybe it's because of where they are, close together in an impossibly intimate scenario, naked and warm and relaxed, that he doesn't automatically tense up. Or maybe he's just made some progress since that guilt-ridden conversation in WcDonald's.]

A little. Maybe.

[An answer to the question she actually asked and one for the implied follow-up. He thinks about it for a moment longer as he starts to rinse the shampoo out of Lois' hair, giving his hands something to do.]

I'm not going to pretend I'm over my parents' message, but it's...softer now. The very idea doesn't get me all seized up anymore. Some of that's because of Jon, and probably some is just time.

[Maybe one day it won't hurt anymore. Clark doesn't really believe that, but it's a nice idea.]

It also depends on whether I could make it work with being Superman. I can't not help people, but I can't be half in, half out of a kid's life, either. Whether they had powers too or not wouldn't matter. And it'd depend on who I was having kids with.

[Which obviously prompts the question — and she has to know it's coming — ]

Do you want kids?

( She's watching for reactions, and this is already softened from a few months ago, sitting across the table from each other in WcDonalds. Her shoulders relax a fraction, a tension she hadn't realized started creeping in when she was bringing up something that matters very much for him, in ways he hadn't thought it ever could.

Maybe it's because of what's just happened, or the fact they're through to the other side of the fog and Jon's also alright, or the fact the heat and the intimacy that isn't overtly sexual even if it could have been that makes it... simpler, in some ways, to simply lean in closer. Lois keeps her chin level as he works through rinsing out her hair, humming a sort of acknowledgement as he speaks.

When he turns the question on her, as she's been expecting, she leans in and presses a kiss to his breastbone before she answers. It's not cut and dry to her, but some of why she's brought up before. Part of it isn't so far off from what he mentions about wanting to be all in, so he'd have to figure out being Superman and Superdad at once, because being only one or the other is... asking for a partner to step up and single parent more often than not. Lois has a sort of sneaking suspicion that short of retiring, or relying even more on something like an expanded Justice Gang, it will still lean hazardously close to that direction, only with love behind it instead of the same sorts of things she knows from her own childhood.

Kids always know where they rank in their parents' lives. )

Most the time I'd say I don't know. I don't dislike the concept? But I've told you before, I don't have faith in being a great mother. I don't know what that looks like.

( And she hasn't seen a lot of it in her life. His parents, Martha and Jon Kent, have been one of the few times she's seen such unconditional, undisguised affection and care from parents to a child. It still blows her mind a little, even as it warms her heart.

She breathes in, closing her eyes for a moment. What she's about to say is an internal debate first, talking theoreticals in broad strokes, or talking theoreticals in specific ones. When she opens her eyes again, it's to lift her chin and look Clark in the face, water raining down and making her blink more than she would otherwise. The waterfall showerhead at least makes speaking while looking up doable, compared to some showerheads of apartments pasts. The internal debate has landed on one path forward, and if she's already naked and vulnerable, can she stick with that trend and not regret it right after? )

If we ever decided on that, if we decided on a whole slew of things leading up to that, if you could find a balance that doesn't leave one of us as a single parent due to logistics... then yes. I think that's something I could imagine with you.

( Not in general, but this is also her nod and callout to the fact it's a balancing act she's not sedately going to pick up the slack on. Lois knows she can, as needed, and as tradeoffs require it, but for the same reason she wouldn't have imagined herself dating a superhero before... for the same damn reason she'd told him she didn't expect him to avoid danger, but to consider more. )

One of these days.

[Her answer doesn't come right away and Clark doesn't expect it to. He doesn't mind. The kiss is a sign that she's not completely lost in her own head, mulling it over, and it makes him smile and run his fingertips up and down her arms as he waits for her answer. He could wait for her forever and be fine with it.

His heart lifts when she does give an indication of what she's thinking and feeling, and he's not initially sure whether that's because uncertainty still leaves room for possibility, or because she's not sure either way and that's not really so different from his own thoughts, even if he likes the idea of being a dad (on purpose and not via multiversal acquisition.)

He doesn't tell her that it's okay not to know how to be a great mother, that he does know what being a great father looks like but still doesn't know how to do it. That kind of thing is something they both have to figure out for themselves, on their own, until they might decide to figure the rest out together.

But the rest of what she says...the water is still plenty hot and has been for a while, so that can't be why Clark feels a sudden warmth blooming in his chest.]

It wouldn't be a dealbreaker for me either way. Because no matter what specific form our future takes, I want to get it right.

[He takes his arms around her back, holding her loosely but closer than before.]

But if we both wanted it, and could make it work, I could see doing with you, too. One day.

( Lois would be lying if part of her doesn't want to squirm in this conversation, and not in a fun way, only in the uncomfortable facing herself way. Facing Clark feels easier, which she's not sure she wants to examine either. She will, at some point, but that point is not presently the one she's perched upon.

But the heat of the water keeps her warm, and the gooseflesh she breaks out in is more reaction to mental stimulus than physical temperature changes. With his arms around her back, she steps into him, bringing her arms up over his shoulders in such a familiar, easy, known way. )

Mmm. How about instead of right, we do it well?

( Mess up, figure it out, keep going. Right feels almost impossible to do in a relationship, whatever forms it takes. Doing everything as well as they can, making good and making up, arguing and agreeing, nitpicking and supporting, all that can be done well.

So can... kids, maybe. Not getting it right, but doing it well. Along with marriage, which has been the elephant her brain's been dancing away from this whole time, and which continues to stand in the corner of the bathroom, pink and unacknowledged. There's only so much deep reflection she has energy for right now, and mostly? She just wants to lean her forehead against Clark's chest. )

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