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Author's Notes: This was written in response to the one-hour challenge: “One of your 'Couple' gets dead drunk, thinks they are Superman and attempts to fly off a five story building!” So, I was challenged to do this challenge. And even as I wrote “Flying Lesson”, I realised that it really wasn’t the best way to have approached the situation. So, as I put together the finishing touches on that one, this story was developing itself as well.
Clark Kent was depressed. Truly, deeply, spiritually depressed. He couldn’t believe how miserable he was. Normally he would have flown off to a nice remote location and screamed out his frustration long before things seemed this bad, but today he simply hadn’t gotten the chance. After their conversation in Centennial Park, Lois had driven him home and as he had walked up to his apartment his misery had increased to the point that he now had difficulty finding the will to operate the remote control. So he was lying on his couch, currently watching as a buxom brunette was giving him instructions on how to contact ‘her’ on a particular party line number. With a winning smile she finished up: “Call me.”
There were a million things he could think of doing that would be more exciting than calling her, if only he could be bothered doing them. Like calling Lois and telling her the truth: that he really did love her and wished he had never retracted his declaration of love. Or flying over to Lois’ place and checking to see that she was coping from her ordeal of a wedding. Or going to see Lois and telling her that he was sorry for the hurtful things he had said to her in the guise of Superman.
But he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to him, but he wasn’t going to go and mess Lois around anymore. She’d been through enough in the past week; she needed him as a friend right now more than anything else. So he was sitting at home, miserable, and missing his partner more than he thought possible.
Clark sighed, forcing himself to his feet and going in search of some form of comfort food. Although he knew that he’d already eaten the chocolate icecream that he kept in stock for Lois, as well as the rest of his mum’s most recent batch of cookies, and indeed every other item of junk food in his apartment, Clark found himself dismally hoping that a block of chocolate or equivalent had mysteriously materialised in his larder.
But the cupboard was bare and the fridge too healthy and Clark sighed despondently before spying the bottle of champagne he had been given to celebrate the resurrection of the Daily Planet sitting alone on his counter.
Clark had always avoided alcohol before, not sure how it would affect his Kryptonian physiology, but right now it seemed like a really good idea, and champagne wasn’t really that alcoholic, was it?
A quick gust of freezing breath chilled it nicely, and Clark shrugged before opening the bottle with a loud popping sound. Morosely, he thought over the irony of drinking champagne alone: a drink usually reserved for couples and celebrations. Well, he was celebrating. Celebrating the return of his friendship with Lois Lane, his fiery beauty whose quick mind and fierce spirit had captured his heart before he even knew her name.
He poured himself a glass, and took a moment to sniff at the unfamiliar beverage, amused at how the bubbles tickled his nose. He sipped at it and found himself amazed at the soft taste of the drink. He’d expected something different, to be sure. But still.
Clark drained the glass quickly, taking the bottle in one hand and planting himself down in front of the television. He drank a few more glasses before seriously settling down to surf the box. But he had an unfortunate advantage over most channel surfers: in that he could flick between channels much faster than any normal human. In a matter of seconds Clark had discerned that there really was nothing on that he wanted to watch, and he sighed loudly in frustration before pouring himself another drink. Thinking a moment, he raised the glass in the air and smiled.
“To Lois Lane”, he began, trying to think of an appropriate toast, “for loving me like a brother.” Choking back a sudden sob, Clark downed the glass of alcohol, and ensured it was followed quickly by another the same size.
Unfortunately by then the bottle was empty, and Clark wasn’t really feeling any different from what he’d been like before he started drinking. Maybe it just took more of the stuff for someone from Krypton to get drunk. He had a bottle of vodka in the display cabinet: someone had given it to him for a Christmas present the year before, that might help establish a pleasant buzz in his brain.
Clark fetched the bottle, together with some orange juice from the fridge, and mixed himself up a drink. The vodka was bitter and made the orange juice taste strange, but it definitely smelt stronger than the champagne had.
Watching an old black and white romance on television, Clark was more than moderately surprised when he thought he heard someone knocking on his door, and even more surprised when he couldn’t seem to focus his eyes enough to discern who was standing on the other side.
Willing his feet to obey him, Clark set aside the now-lighter bottle of vodka on the coffee table before walking to the door. He opened it, amazed at how the floor seemed to be spinning around him, then looked up in surprise as Lois pushed past him, a yummy-smelling pizza in her hands.
“I was sitting at home all alone and I couldn’t help but miss my best friend so I thought I’d come over and I brought pizza since I didn’t know if you’d eaten and –“ Lois broke off mid-babble to stare hard at Clark’s happily bemused smile. “Are you alright?”
“I’m gummy bears”, Clark said while grinning (all the while believing that in truth he’d said “I’m fine thanks”).
Lois put the pizza down on the coffee table, noticing the vodka bottle as she did so. “Have you been drinking?” she asked in a puzzled voice, suddenly worried.
“Just a little”, Clark answered, nodding enthusiastically.
“Why?” Some dark part of Clark’s mind remembered that Lois’ mother had been an alcoholic and that Lois usually avoided anything with alcohol in it. He suddenly felt a little worried, but the moment passed as he remembered that he had to answer Lois’ question.
“Because I love you.”
Lois’ eyes opened wide and she seemed suddenly almost afraid of him. “You what?”
“I love you, Lois Lane”, Clark said, sitting down enthusiastically on the couch next to her. Although he was tempted to put his arms around Lois and kiss her, the smell of the pizza was too inviting, so he opened the box and asked if she minded him having a slice. A dazed shake of the head was enough answer for Clark, who promptly wolfed one slice of pepperoni and cheese pizza down like it was the last food on earth.
Lois, meanwhile, was staring off into space trying to assimilate this information. Firstly, Clark was drunk. Off his face, in fact, or near enough to it. Secondly, he seemed to think he was in love with her. Of course, that was in complete contradiction to what he’d said to her in the park that afternoon. But still, Clark would never lie to her, would he? He was always honest to a fault, and she could only imagine that him getting drunk would emphasize his manners rather than remove them. But he was drinking because he loved her? That didn’t make any sense.
Or did it? If Clark loved Lois, than what he’d said to her in the park that day had been a lie. So, he’d lied to her about lying to her? And he was drinking because he hadn’t wanted to tell her his real emotions and it was eating him up inside.
“Hey Lois”, Clark said, grinning at her, “D’ya wanna hear about how I defeated Lex Luthor? It’s a great story, but a secret.” One finger was held up in front of Clark’s lips.
A sudden wrench of pain in her chest made Lois shake her head. “Maybe later, ok, Clark?” He smiled at her again, in that manner that was so like a puppy dog that Lois almost allowed her heart to soften towards her partner. But no, she thought, not yet.
Clark was a liar and she hated liars. But still, hadn’t she decided just a few days ago that she had some deeply hidden feelings for Clark that deserved some introspective thinking?
That look of intense concentration on Lois’ face made Clark grin, getting up and doing a little dance of pure joy. She didn’t seem to notice though, and so while he was waiting for her to pay attention to him again he poured himself another drink. Once he was done gulping the vodka and mixer (he couldn’t remember what it was called, but it was orange anyway), Lois looked up, took the glass bottle out of his hand and put it away for him.
“I think you’ve had enough for one night”, she shook her head in slight disgust. Lois had never figured Clark for a drunk before.
“So I’m drunk?” He asked happily.
A puzzled look crossed Lois’ face before she answered slightly sarcastically. “Clark, you are smashed off your face.” She sat back down on the couch to continue her musing while he danced some more to music only he could hear.
“Oh good”, he grinned and bounced a little, “I’ve never been drunk before.”
Clark was probably telling the truth, Lois decided. She’d never seen him drink anything before, and his supposed reasons for drinking himself into this state would have tempted even her to lose herself in alcohol.
But it didn’t excuse the fact that Clark was well and truly on his way to a monumental headache tomorrow morning. It was probably a good thing that the new Daily Planet wouldn’t be ready for its reporters for another few days yet. Clark would be out of action for most of tomorrow, if Lois hadn’t missed her guess.
Suddenly she looked up, broken out of her reverie by the strange silence that had overtaken Clark’s lounge room. He was nowhere to be seen. “Clark?” Lois called his name in worry, wondering where he possibly could have gotten to.
“I’m out here, Lois-love”, the voice came from somewhere outside the apartment. She shook her head at the suffix to her name, feeling a little nauseous.
Lois walked out onto the fire escape, but once again she couldn’t find the elusive drunk Farmboy. A premonition of sorts caused her to look up, and sure enough, there was Clark, hanging off the railing up on the fifth floor of the fire escape. She raced up the stairs and pulled him away from the edge, sudden anger firing her up to new feats of strength.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, whacking at his arm.
Clark was suddenly contrite. “I was just thining that it would be nice to go flying with you.” His tone was sad and petulant and childlike in an adorable manner that made Lois want to lash out at someone. But instead, a part of her heart softened towards him.
“I wouldn’t mind going flying with you either, Clark”, she said, a little sadly, trying not to remember her last conversation with Superman. “But unfortunately, you can’t fly without Superman’s help.”
“Sure I can, Lois”, Clark was beaming at her now, “I’m Superman.” He moved towards the railing again and once again Lois had to restrain him.
As if, Lois thought, before speaking again in that soft voice. “No, Clark, you’re just drunk. In the morning you’ll remember that you can’t fly and you’ll be glad that I stopped you from jumping off the building.”
Clark snatched his hand away from Lois, and vaulted the railing easily, to stand, if a little unsteadily, on the thin air in front of Lois. After a moment, Lois stopped screaming and looked at Clark warily, assimilating this new information. He had lied to her, and not just in the park.
Finally, deciding that there was nothing the situation called for more, Lois reached out to the floating man and slapped him, hard across the face.
“I hate you”, Lois snarled, “you lying… flesson.” Somehow an appropriate swearword or adjective had failed to come to Lois’ mind clearly and she managed to garble about eighteen words into one that made no sense. Clark was too damn drunk to appreciate it anyway.
“But I love you”, Clark said in that small voice, reaching out to grab her hands and pull her into a close hug, the railing pressing between them. Lois tried to pull away from him but he was simply too strong. Sighing and deciding she was too tired to fight anymore, Lois gave in, allowing him to hold her close.
“So”, Clark said, sounding brighter and still fairly drunk, “Can I take you flying now?”
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