Title An Uncomfortable Work Environment

name Scribe

fandom DC comics AU

pairing Lois/Jimmy, Clark/Jimmy

status answer to 'Sexual Harassment' challenge

criticism Fire away.

archive You betcha. Lemme know

disclaimer Ain't mine, but I promis to use them gently and return unharmed.

summary It ain't just a girl thang

notes He's young, he's cute, he's redheaded. Who wouldn't jump?

rating PG for this one

Warning: I'm sorry, I meant for this to be a short one. I can scarcely write anything but series, it seems. If it bothers you, have a talk with my muses. It's out of my hands.

by Scribe

Jimmy was sixteen when he started working part time at the Daily Planet. He wanted to be a journalist. College would come later, of course, but there was a lot to be said for the fine old practise of apprenticeship. He intended to learn the work from the ground up.

And that's where he started...dirt level. He was gofer and general office dogsbody for the first year, coming in at around five and leaving at around ten. That gave him enough time to do his homework after school, and still get to bed at a relatively decent hour.

That first year he learned to fetch coffee and sandwiches and pastries from the local delis without screwing up the orders. He learned to stack and move cases of office supplies. He learned how to sharpen pencils, lots and lots of pencils. Actually, there was a knack to that. If you put too fine a point on them, the lead broke and you had to sharpen them again.

The Planet was a morning paper, and all he saw back then were copy editors and type setters, and the men who did the grunt work, heaving bundles of newspapers or rolling huge spindles of paper. That was alright with Jimmy, he wanted to know it ALL.

Then the Daily Planet started putting out an evening edition, too. That meant that the JOURNALISTS sometimes stayed over to work in the evenings. Bliss! Paradise! The people he admired most in the world, there for him to watch and emulate.

Sometimes he'd just sit quietly at a spare desk in the corner, watching the star reporters work their magic. Oh, there were many _reporters_, but only two STAR reporters: Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

Lois was a sharp, pretty brunette. She always wore crisp business suits, or skirt and blouse combinations. Often she wore little pillbox hats, like the president's wife. Lois was fearless. She got her story, no matter what. She'd go after an interview like a starving pit bull after a filet. She pulled no punches in her stories. Jimmy admired her immensely.

Clark Kent was a different sort. He was a big man, dark hair always combed back smoothly from his forehead. He wore heavy, dark rimmed glasses that Jimmy thought made him look very intelligent, and dignified. He was quiet, and people tended to overlook him, but Jimmy could tell there was a lot going on under that quiet exterior. His peices seemed to be more thought out than Lois'. Lois worked from the gut, Clark used more heart and brain.

When he was seventeen, Jimmy got in the work/study program at school. He went to school half a day, and worked at the Daily Planet in the afternoon and on weekends, earning college credit for experience. It was exciting. Perry White, the editor, finally promoted him to copy boy. Now Jimmy was actually working ON the paper instead of just FOR it.

He had a tiny desk in the corner of the main room all his own. Here he read copy, looking for obvious errors, marking them. Then the pieces would go to the editor, who would make any changes he felt necessary before passing them back to the reporters for a final polish.

That didn't mean that Jimmy didn't still sharpen pencils, move supplies, and run errends. Things went along smoothly. Later on, when they got sour, he tried to remember when it had first started. It was hard to tell, it had been so subtle at first. He finally decided it was the night they were out of rootbeer.

It was probably because it had been so hot all day. The food places ran through a lot of soft drinks downtown, where the breezes didn't reach. It was pretty bad in the newsroom, where there were only a few fans to stir the air. It was so hot that Jimmy had taken off his jacket, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He was sweating enough to dampen his shirt, and he kind of wished that he'd worn an undershirt, but it had been too hot to consider it.

He'd collected orders, and gone to the deli to pick them up. Usually Kramer's was good about having what was needed, but this time they were out of rootbeer. That was bad, three different people had ordered rootbeer, one of them Lois Lane. He was pretty sure the other ones wouldn't squawk about a substittion, but Lois had been chewing on an article about possible corruption in the sanitation department for two days, and she was in a foul mood. He got creme soda instead, and hoped she wouldn't bite his head off.

She was typing like a demon when he made the delivery, the upright Royal racketing like a machine gun. He sat the bag and bottle down on the corner of her desk, and started to back away quietly. "Just a minute!" The voice was sharp and authoratative. Jimmy froze, and waited anxiously.

Lois rattled off another long string of keystrikes, then ripped the paper from the roller. She read, dark eyes darting, scowling. Then she wadded it up viciously and threw it on the floor. Uh oh. Not good.

She snatched up the bag and opened it, rummaging inside. "Pickle, chips, apple...good, good. Sandwich...good. Wheat, and they remembered to toast it. Almost perfect. Maybe I won't have to kill someone." She grabbed the sweating bottle, and stopped. "Olsen!"

Jimmy winced. "Yes, Miss Lane?"

"Olsen, what did I tell you I wanted to drink?"

"A rootbeer, I didn't forget."

"Then what is this?"

"It's a creme soda. You see, the deli..."

"What the hell am I supposed to do with a creme soda when I wanted a rootbeer? Dammit, can't ANYTHING go right? I can't even get a simple damn rootbeer."

A little shocked by her swearing, Jimmy said, "Well, I'm sorry, but they were out."

"Fine. I'll have water. Get rid of it."

It wasn't just the rootbeer, Jimmy realized. She was angry and frustrated about her story. He wanted to make her feel better, somehow. "Aw, don't be mad, Miss Lane. That's a Dr. Brown's."

One dark eyebrow arched, and she said acidly, "That's supposed to mean something?"

"Sure. Haven't you every had a Dr. Brown creme?" She shook her head. "Oh, you gotta try it! You'll love it, I promise. Here, let me." He had a church key on his pocket knife, and he pried the cap off the bottle for her. The tall brown bottle was sweating with condensation, and he tried to wipe some of it off, then gave up and wrapped it in a paper napkin, offering it to her. "Here. They have a pale creme, but this is the red creme. It has a strawberry taste to it."

She accepted the bottle, and just held it a moment, staring at him. Funny, she was looking at him like she'd never seen him before, but he'd been there more than a year. He shivered a little, because the fan on her desk was blowing right on him, plastering his damp shirt to his sticky chest. It was actually so cold that...He glanced down at himself. It was so cold that his nipples were hard, and they were clearly outlined against the thin, damp fabric of his shirt. He quickly crossed his arms, and cursed his pale, redhead complexion. Because he was blushing now, turning bright pink.

Lois Lane smiled. "Red creme, huh?" She took a sip, still watching him.

Jimmy waited. "Good, huh?"

She smiled at him, and licked her lips. "Delicious." Her eyes slid down to linger on his chest, then farther down, dropping slowly to his feet. Jimmy shifted nervously, wondering if the humidity had taken the crease out of his trousers. "Really sweet. How old are you, Jimmy?"

He blinked at the sudden change of subject. "I'm seventeen, Miss Lane."

She took another sip, cocking her head at him, studying him. "Do you work out in school?'

"You mean lift weights? A little, in gym."

"Thought so. Thanks, kid."

"It's alright then?"

"It's better than alright. It's mighty fine."

He smiled in relief. "Good, I'm glad. Anything else I can do for you?"

She gave him an odd smile. "I can think of a lot of things. But for now, how about getting me that wad of paper?" He went around her desk to the other side and bent over to pick up the offending peice of paper. Damn humidity! His pants clung tightly, riding up the crack of his ass. He was going to have to leave the room to adjust them.

He turned back to drop the paper in the wastebasket, and Lois was looking at him oddly, her eyes bright. "Here you go, Miss Lane."

"Thank you, Jimmy. Toddle off now, like a good boy."

As he gathered the rest of the delivery and made for the door, he heard her chuckle. "Red creme indeed. Tasty."

************

Yes, that was when it started. Though he didn't realized for quite some time that things were different at work. He still made the deli runs, he still sharpened pencils and transfered office supplies. He was more frequently given copy to proof read, and he started doing research for Miss Lane and Mr. Kent.

Now when he made the deli runs, Miss Lane always ordered a bottle of Dr. Brown's Red Creme soda. And whenever he brought the food into the newsroom, she'd stop whatever she was doing and sing out, "Here comes my red creme now!" Jimmy couldn't understand it. It was GOOD, and all that, but she sure was enthusiastic. Oh well, anything that kept her happy. And she did seem to think it was mighty amusing, for some reason.

One day he realized that...well, she was touching him quite a bit. He wasn't even sure why he noticed it enough to think it was significant. It wasn't anything really...Well, it wasn't obviously offensive. She'd pat his hand or his arm when he brought her something. She was always straightening his bow tie, or collar. What made him realize that it might be a little out of the ordinary was the fact that Mr. Kent noticed it, too.

She was patting him on the shoulder after he'd brought in a bit of research, and Clark said casually, "Lois, maybe you should get a cat. That way you wouldn't keep mussing Jimmy up by petting him."

Lois stuck her tongue out at Clark. "He isn't complaining, is he?"

That idea surprised Jimmy. He could complain? Did he WANT to complain? Perhaps not. It wasn't really anything, was it? But Miss Lane stopped being so touchy-feely, at least when there was anyone else around. When they were alone, it was another matter.

He was proofing some copy for her. Nothing important, a simple report on a city council meeting. Instead of working at her desk while he finished, she hovered behind him. "Did you get a haircut today, Jimmy?"

He glanced back at her. "Yeah. I was starting to get shaggy."

He went back to his copy, and Lois stood, staring at him. Jimmy had his jacket off, slung over the back of his chair. Since that embarresseing incident with the clinging damp shirt, he'd remembered to wear an undershirt every day. But his overshirt was thin, the white cloth sheer, and the undershirt was outlined beneath, stretched across his back. Lois could see the minute flex in the smooth muscles of his shoulders as his arms moved slightly, guiding his blue editor's pencil over her prose.

She stared at the strong column of his neck stretching between his collar and the new penny sheen of his freshly cropped hair. The hairline at the nape of his neck was brutally straight and chopped off. But the bright red hair above it curled defiantly, and the skin below it that beautiful redhead pale. The back of his neck was still lightly dusted with the talc the barber had smoothed on.

"Did he use the clippers?"

"Yeah, to clean up the neckline." He tried to concentrate on his work. This was an odd topic of conversation. It might not have been so strange if it was Mr. Kent. Guys DID discuss haircuts and barbers.

He shivered suddenly as a finger was drawn across the bare skin just above his collar. "You're smooth here." The finger ran just at his hairline in back. He could feel it brushing the minute stubble left by the clipper. The soft hair was made stiff \by it's cutting. "But you're rough here." A stroke lower down. "Smooth." Tickling. "Rough."

"Miss Lane, you're tickling."

"Am I? Sorry about that." But the hand isn't removed. Now she lays it flat across his nape and holds it there. "Do you have a girlfriend, Jimmy?"

"Huh? Uh, no. Not a steady girl."

"Don't you date?"

"Sure, some. Not much,though, I'm awful busy with work and school. But sometimes I take a girl to one of the games, maybe go out for a hamburger."

"How about the movies? Don't you ever take a girl to the movies? Sit there in the dark," She squeezed, feeling the hard knob of his spine beneath the resilent pad of muscle. "Snuggle?"

Jimmy was blushing again. His face was turned away, but he blushed even to the tips of his ears, and Lois could see. She laughed softly. "C'mon, Jimmy, think of me as your big sister. You can tell me."

"There isn't anything to talk about, Miss Lane."

"You can call me Lois, Jimmy. That'd be more friendly, wouldn't it?"

"I guess so, Miss...I mean Lois. This is ready for Mr. White now." He prepared to push his chair back and rise. But Lois leaned forward and planted her hands flat on his desk, arms on either side of his body. Jimmy froze. He could feel the soft weight of her breasts pressing against his back.

He felt her breath on his ear, and she murmured. "You know, I worry about you, not having a girlfriend. That isn't healthy for a boy your age."

"It's not a problem, really. I need to take this in now."

She wasn't paying attention. "A boy your age has certain needs, certain appetites. Don't you ever get hungry, Jimmy?" She moved, and placed her hands flat on his chest, moving them in small circles. "I know I do."

Jimmy felt a wash of relief as he heard the outer door open. Lois stood up and took a quick backward step as Mr. Kent came into the room, hanging his hat on a hook near the door. Lois scowled. "Thought you had that pitcher interview today."

"He canceled. Jimmy, is that copy for Perry?' Jimmy nodded numbly. "Well, you'd better get it in to him." Grateful, Jimmy scooted his chair out and hurried toward the inner office. Behind him he could hear Mr. Kent saying "...looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. What kind of game are you playing?"

"What do you care?"

"Lois, don't do it. He's too young."

"He's a big boy."

"The opperative word is 'boy'. He's seventeen, and a YOUNG seventeen. Just lay off."

"Jimmy, you missed this," Perry White slashed a blue mark through a misspelling. "And this. What's gotten into you, boy You're not ususally this careless."

"Sorry, sir. I was...distracted."

"Try to concentrate, son."

"Yes sir."

It got worse.

**********

"Jimmy, I'm writing a free lance article, and I wonder if you could help me."

Jimmy watched Lois cautiously. Mr. Kent was out at the scene of a jewel theft, but Mr. White was in his office, just on the other side of a door. She hadn't come over to hover. She was sitting at her own desk, and the look she gave him was open and friendly. "Sure, Lois. If I can."

"Good. This is really important for me. It's for a major psychology publication. I'm doing a survey of young men in the workplace. I'll talk to several different subjects at different employments: box boys at the supermarket, ushers at the movies, apprentices in machine shops. You'll be my office worker representative, okay?"

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

It started out innocently enough. What courses he took, what he planned to do in the next two years, five years His eating patterns, his sleeping patterns. "Sleep patterns are very important, as they affect the rest of your life. What size bed do you use?"

"Single, long. The standard is a little too short for me since last year." He usually got to bed between ten and eleven, slept till about seven thirty.

"Peaceful sleep? Do you dream?"

"Sure, everyone dreams, don't they?"

"What do you dream about?"

"Gosh, I dunno. All sorts of things. Writing big, important stories, playing sports, just walking around. A lot of it doesn't make sense."

"How do you dress when you sleep? Pajamas? Underwear? Nude?"

Jimmy looked at her sharply, but she was studiously taking notes. "I usually sleep in my boxers. Keep some pants by the bed in case there's a fire or something."

"Good. How often do you have to change the sheets?"

He blinked. "I dunno. Mom takes care of that. Two, three times a week, I guess."

"No, how often does she HAVE to change the sheets?"

Jimmy felt himself flushing. "I don't have that problem," he said hotly. "Not since I was three."

Lois laughed. "I wasn't asking if you wet the bed, Jimmy. I meant the OTHER kind of messes."

"Other kind of..." He trailed off, and now the color did flood his face.

She nodded. "Wet dreams. You know, you have a sexual dream, and your body reacts. A healthy young guy like you, you must wake up every now and then sticking to your shorts."

"Miss Lane..."

"You don't? Then you must be entertaining yourself on a regular basis, Jimmy. How often?" Now her face was flushed a little. Her eyes sparkled as she put down the pencil. "Bet you can manage twice a day, maybe more." One of her hands disappeared up under her A line skirt. "Do you do it dry, or do you use hand lotion? How long does it usually take before you cream yourself? Do you do it hard and fast, or do you try to make it last a loong time?" Her hand was moving slowly. "I bet you do it in the shower. Lots of guys do. What do you think about when you're stroking yourself, Jimmy?"

Jimmy bolted up out of his chair and ran for the office exit. He jerked the door open and ran into what felt like a cloth covered brick wall.

"Whoa! Steady there, boy!" Clark Kent grabbed his shoulders before he could lose balance. "Jimmy, what's wrong?" He peered over his shoulder. "Is there a fire in there, or what?" He was in time to see Lois wiping her hand on a tissue. The hem of her skirt, usually so precisely placed, was rucked halfway up her thighs. "Oh." His eyes narrowed behind the hornrims. "I see. Wait out here in the hall, son." He stepped inside and closed the door.

The doors at The Daily Planet hadn't been designed to muffle noise. "Lois, what have you been doing to that poor kid?"

"Not near as much as I want to, damn it. Trying to get past that shyness a little, but he's making it tough, on both of us." Lois' voice was a little ragged.

"You've got to leave him alone. You're scaring him half to death."

"Oh, come on, Clark. I'm just teasing him. It's not like I jerked his pants down, threw him over a desk, and mounted up." A pause. "Though that idea does have certain appeal." Jimmy stifled a paniced moan.

"Can't you see he's not interested?"

"Yeah. I wonder why?" She sounded puzzled. "I'm not vain, Clark, you know that. But I'm no bowser, either. There aren't many men I can't get to stand at attention, if I put my mind to it. Jimmy's being a hard sell. He should have had his tongue down my throat by now. Like you said, he's a young seventeen, but, I mean...My God, HE'S SEVENTEEN! They get horny just breathing at that age."

"Some of them have more self control than others."

"Jimmy?" A snort. "The way he colors up? Have you SEEN the way he blushes? God, it's beautiful. Better than a virgin novice hearing a dirty story. He just goes pink right up to the roots of that flaming hair, and he look so yummy I could just eat him with a spoon...Clark?" Silence. "You're awful quiet there, buddy." Still more silence. "Ohhhh, well that would explain all those quick goodnights on our dates, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come off it, Clark. It doesn't make any difference to me, and I don't blame you. I have the hots for him myself, don't I? I'm just warning you, I'm not giving up yet. I may be able to wear him down. If I can't, you can always give it a try. But I'm guessing you're too ethical to make a play, what with him being underage."

Jimmy leaned against the wall, suddenly dizzy. Mr. Kent? Was Lois implying that Mr. Kent was...interested in him? Why, Clark Kent was the most masculine man Jimmy knew, next to Superman. Maybe a little more masculine, truth be told. That costume was a touch flamboyant. Mr. Kent always wore neat, squared away suits. No matter what the hour, he was never rumpled or grubby. Jimmy wasn't small, but his head barely topped Clark's shoulders, and Mr. Kent was almost two of Jimmy across. He was massive, someone you could hide behind. Or lean against. He hadn't thought of that before.

He heard Clark's voice again. "Just leave him alone, Lois."

"I'm bored, Clark. He's fun. Now go away, I have work to do. I've fallen a little behind."

Jimmy stepped back quickly as footsteps approached the door. Mr. Kent came out and said, "Jimmy, why don't we go to the break room for a minute or two? I think we need to talk."

"Yessir."

In the break room, Clark fixed coffee for them both. Without asking, he laced Jimmy's cup heavily with milk and sugar. Jimmy was a little surprised that Clark knew exactly how he liked his coffee. He must have watched Jimmy fix his cup before, and remembered. That was thoughtful. They sat side by side at the table, drinking in silence for a moment. Then Clark said, "You've been tense lately, Jimmy. I think I know why, but maybe you should tell me."

Jimmy shrugged. He didn't know how to talk about it.

*****************

Jimmy kept drinking his coffee, small slow sips, hoping Clark would say something else. Hoping he'd offer another topic of conversation. But Clark just sat there, watching him, one big hand almost swallowing his mug of coffee.

Finally he mumbled. "I dunno. I've just been...out of sorts lately."

"Jimmy." It was hard to believe such a big man could sound so gentle. "Something has been making you very uncomfortable. You're not like yourself. You're jumpy all the time. If I come up behind you and tap your shoulder or your arm, you almost jump out of your skin, and you didn't used to be so skittish. Whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it by yourself. I'm your friend, am I not?"

Jimmy smiled at the quaint phrasing. "Yeah, Mr. Kent. Probably my best friend."

The blue eyes behind the hornrims were kind, and pleased. "Then you should call me Clark. And friends help each other. Tell me what's wrong."

Jimmy fidgetted again. "I need some more coffee." He started to stand up, but Clark took hold of his wrist. The grip was non-threatening, but firm, and he held Jimmy in place.

"Jimmy, talk to me." The tone said he was willing to sit here for a long time.

Jimmy Olsen rubbed his face with his free hand, then sighed. "It...it's kind of silly, I guess. I mean, I ought to be flattered, right? I know guys who'd give a year off their life to have someone like...some...you know, pursuing them."

"Someone like?" The prompt was not to be denied.

He looked down an the tabletop, at Clark's fingers curving around his wrist. "Miss Lane." he whispered. "She's been teasing me lately. And not just, you know, 'Let's get the kid' teasing. Heck, I 'm used to that. It's part of being the youngest one at work."

"You mean she's been teasing you sexually?"

*Here comes that damn blush again.* "Yessir."

"Clark. And it makes you uncomfortable."

"Yeah. I mean, it's just all of a sudden, out of the blue. One day she's grousing at me for not keeping her paper supply up, the next she's...she's...well, kind of rubbing on me, like a cat."

Clark let go of his wrist, very carefully, Jimmy thought. Jimmy absently rubbed the warm place where Clark's hand had braceletted him. He didn't notice how Kent's eyes followed that subtle gesture. "Clark, this is so weird. I keep thinking that I should LIKE it. I mean, don't most guys? Shouldn't I be all excited because she keeps trying to touch me, and talk dirty to me? What's wrong with me?"

Clark sat back and crossed his arms, tucking his hands under. Almost, Jimmy thought, like someone trying to keep control of their actions. "I think that's why I'm angry at Lois. It would be one thing if you were open to her advances. Heaven knows, I don't approve of having relations with underage young people. Things are confusing enough for you youngsters as it is without being pressured by a more experienced adult. But from what I've seen, you haven't given Lois any encouragement." Jimmy shook his head decisively. "Then she should leave you alone. If she persists, I want you to report this to Perry."

Jimmy was horrified. "I couldn't! It's not like I'm twelve or thirteen, and she's a child molester. Perry...the authorities would wonder why I didn't just shut up and enjoy it. I've wondered that a couple of times myself."

"And your conclusions?"

"I don't KNOW." he said helplessly. "Maybe there's something wrong with me. Lois was teasing me about the fact that I don't really date. She says it isn't healthy for a kid my age not to be...well, trying to...you know...with whoever I can. But I've never really had that kind of interest in any of the girls I know."

"What about any of the boys?"

That floored Jimmy. Because he'd thought about that a little himself, and it shocked him to realized that it might occure to someone else. At last he managed to choke out, "N-no. Not really." He paused, his face heating. He whispered, "Not anything...clear, anyway." He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the reaction. He wasn't sure if it would be hot anger or cold disgust, but either way, he was pretty sure he'd lost his friend.

He had to wonder if maybe Clark was psychic. He felt Clark's arm on his shoulder. "Look at me, Jimmy." Jimmy dared a look. Oh, God, he looked stern. "Do you distrust me to the point that you think that would make any difference in our friendship?"

The young man felt relief flood him. Clark didn't hate him. "No. I'm sorry. It's just that...I never said that out loud before. I've hardly even thought it. How can I be so mixed up?"

A wry smile. "You're seventeen, and you think you should have it all figured out by now? My God, son, it's no shame to be a little confused. There are people twice your age and more who still haven't figured out their sexuality. It isn't always a black and white, either or thing."

"It isna't?"

"No, it isn't. I suppose you think that someone has to be either rabidly straight, or screamingly gay?"

"Well...that's what I've heard."

Clark shook his head almost sady, and murmured something like, "God, this backward, benighted world." Then he spoke louder. "There are places, Jimmy, where same sex couples aren't considered all that unusual. These places have just progressed to the point where it isn't men loving women, or men loving men, or women loving women, it's people loving people."

"That sounds nice," Jimmy said wistfully. "I don't guess any of those places are nearby?"

"Sadly, no. But this world may eventually reach that point. If people are brave enough to follow their hearts."

Brave enough. Clark's hand was resting on the table. Jimmy reached over and laid his on top of it. Just let it lie there for a moment. Then he tentatively stroked. Clark's fingers curled slightly, but he didn't pull away. Jimmy straightened his cuff, adjusting the twisted link carefully, and smoothed the sleeve up to the elbow.

It was very quiet in the break room. Jimmy kept his eyes on his hand as he traced his way up Clark's arm, pressing just enough to feel the firm outline of the bicep. Then he let his hand drift back down. He picked up Clark's hand, and moved it till the palm was against his own cheek, and just held it there, waiting to see what would happen.

After a moment, the fingers splayed wide, the tips sliding up just into the edge of his hair. The hand curved, moling itself to him, the holding melting into a caress. Then Jimmy finally looked into Clark's eyes.

He'd seen those eyes mild and amused, sharp with inquirely, sparking with indignation and anger. He'd never seen thim like this before. They were as brilliant as a blue gas flame. He gasped softly in surprise.

Clark shuddered slightly. His hand slid farther back into Jimmy's hair, curving around the back of his skull, holding him. Jimmy unconsciously licked his lips, and Clark made a low, almost desperate sound, then let go of him abruptly.

Feeling even more bewildered, Jimmy said, "Clark? I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"You're seventeen, Jimmy." His voice was rough. "You're only seventeen, and I'm getting out of here." He stood up abruptly and went to the door. Once there, he paused, and looked back at the boy. Jimmy looked so dejected. Clark said quietly, "I'm still your friend, but I think for a while it might be better if we didn't talk to each other privately."

Jimmy said plaintively, "What did I do?"

Clark's face softened. "It's not you, son. I still don't approve of what Lois is doing, but..." Jimmy could almost feel the look that swept over him like a physical touch. "Now I understand why."

He left, leaving Jimmy more confused than ever, but somehow...hopeful.

****************

That evening, Mrs. Olsen watched, concerned, as her son poked at the carefully prepared meal. That wasn't like her Jimmy, always enjoyed his food, he did. But he'd been acting a little odd lately, anyway.

His appetite wasn't the only thing suffering. She heard him pacing sometimes at night. His school work...well, it was hard to say. He wasn't a brilliant student, but he was a good one. Grades had always been a steady stream of As and Bs, with more of the former than the latter. On his last report card, though, there'd been two Cs. And just last week his math teacher had sent home a progress report hinting that a D was in the offing, if Jimmy didn't buckle down.

And he seemed a little less enthusiastic about his job at the Daily Planet, too. That was REALLY disturbing. Jimmy lived, breathed, and ate journalism. She felt sure that he would have set up a cot in the newsroom, if he hadn't felt that he'd be abandoning her.

So, there was something not right in Jimmy's world. She'd never pried into his life outside their home. She'd never needed to. He was an honest, open boy who willingly shared his life with his mother, not shutting her out like some teenagers these days.

But now it was obvious that there was a secret in Jimmy's life, and it was eating him up. Knowing her boy perhaps better than he knew himself, Mrs. Olsen thought that she might have an idea what it was. The problem was, she didn't think it was anything she could really help him with, except to let him know how much he was loved. And accepted.

"Jimmy, dear, I think that slice of pot roast is dead now," she said quietly.

Jimmy blinked, suddenly realizing that he'd been forking the tender slice of beef till it had been reduced to shreds. "Sorry, Ma. It's good, I just...I just don't feel too hungry right now. Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for not gobbling it down, son. Goodness knows I've watched you pack away enough of my cooking in the last seventeen years to know you like it." She watched him begin drawing patterns in the mashed potatos. At last she said, "I know it isn't that you're sick. You'd tell me about that."

A flash of warm brown eyes, and a tiny grin. He brushed flame red hair (dear God, so like his blessed father) off his forehead and said, "Wanna check for fever?"

Mrs. Olsen leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss that was obviously meant as a sign of affection and not an attempt to gauge temperature. She touched his cheek and said softly, "What's wrong with my boy? Can't you tell me, Jimmy?"

It hurt to see the trouble clouding his open, handsome face. "I...I've just got...kind of a situation I'm not sure about. That's all. Nothing life threatening."

"Sometimes it helps to share."

He sighed. "Thanks Mom, but you wouldn't understand." Another sigh, "Geez, I don't think I understand."

"Well, let's pin point it. It isn't home?" He shook his head. "That leaves work, school, and life in general. Which is it?"

"Work. No," he thought. "I thought it was just work. But now I think a lot of it is life in general, too. Mom," he said abruptly, "Would it bother you a whole lot if you didn't have grandkids?"

Here it comes, she thought. "Well, of course I'd LIKE to have grandchildren. I'd love to see you pass on that carrot top. But if you don't fall in love..." she paused, slightly but significantly, "...with a girl...and get married...The adoption laws are getting much more lenient. Who's to say you wouldn't decide to give some poor little parentless mite a home eventually? Why do you ask, dear?"

Jimmy rubbed his face. "I'm beginning to think that I might not get married."

"So, you haven't met the right person yet. That's understandable. You're still young."

He sounded bleak. "There's a chance I may never meet the right person, Mom."

Be very careful here, Millicent, she thought. But you've got to get this out in the open. It will sour him if he keeps it bottled up. Very quietly she said, "Jimmy, there may very well be a right person. It's just that the right person might not be the same as the right girl."

It took a moment for it to sink in, but she couldn't say it any plainer than that, it just wasn't in her nature. Such things hadn't been discussed when she was a girl, and they were barely mentioned now. But understanding slowly dawned in Jimmy's face. He put his face in his hands, and his shoulders started to shake.

Mrs. Olsen embraced him, envelopeing him in silent comfort, willing him to feel safe and loved. It broke her heart to see him hurting, and maybe this would ease things, at least a little, if he didn't think he had to hide this part of his life from her.

"Mom," his voice was muffled now against her shoulder. "Oh, Mom, I'm so mixed up. I...I've never done anything..."

"You don't have to tell me, Jimmy. It doesn't make any difference to me, as long as you're happy."

She could feel warm tears dampening the shoulder of her blouse. She rocked him soothingly, like she had when he was little, and the world had hurt him in some way. He was so big and strong, her son, but even the strongest men could be hurt so deeply when they doubted themselves. He mustn't do that. "It's alright."

He pulled back a little, and stared at her. "Is it?"

There was so much pain and hope in those two words that it made her want to cry, but she didn't dare. The sight of her tears would convice him that he'd hurt her. Instead, she smiled. "Yes, it is. You're my precious baby boy. You always will be, even though you're a man now."

"It...it doesn't...shock you?"

She sighed. "Well, darling, it isn't as if you've been chasing every skirt that swished past, is it?" He winced, but smiled faintly. "I've had an idea for a time. I've been waiting for you to trust me enough to say something."

He pulled back a little, almost looking indignant. "I trust you, Mom. It's just that this isn't like...like dating someone from a rival school. Besides," he dropped his eyes again. "I didn't really know it myself. I...had a talk with someone this afternoon. He said something about...about people loving people."

Mrs. Olsen watched the play of emotions on Jimmy's face. There was a look of almost wonder, tender warmth. Mrs. Olsen knodded. "Jimmy, I don't think you're gay."

Now he looked startled. "But Mom, I pretty much just told you I'm attracted to a man."

"Yes Jimmy, A man. Not men. Have you ever felt attracted to any of the boys at school?"

He blushed furiously. Bless him, whoever he ended up with was going to be able to read his moods like a book, a large print book. "No! They're...well, they're so much like me, it would be kind of like being narcisitic."

"But there is a man you're attracted to?"

Jimmy closed his eyes for a second. He remembered the quiet rumble of Clark's voice, the blinding blue of his eyes, the moment that his hand had curved against Jimmy's cheek, then slid back into his hair. And he remembered thinking that he'd do almost anything if Clark would just pull him forward and touch that strong, beautiful mouth to his. He swallowed hard. "Yeah. There's a man."

"I'm not up on all the proper labels, and I hate labels anyway. But in my book you're gay if you find men in general attractive. If you find only one man attractive, then you're in love, or close to it. Do I know this person?"

The flush deepened. "Yeah."

Mrs. Olsen cocked her head teasingly. "I'm not going to ask you if he's nice. My son wouldn't be interested in anyone who wasn't."

"He's very nice. But..." He cut his eyes at her, gauging her reaction. "He's older than me. More than ten, twelve years."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. Then she said, "You told me you haven't done anything yet, so I'm assuming that means he hasn't, either With you, I mean."

Jimmy hung his head for a secong, then looked up at her. "I think he almost kissed me today. But he's worried that I'm too young. Not that he doesn't like me. I can tell he does. He's worried about taking advantage of me."

"He's a good man." said Mrs. Olsen decisively. "If you're only now becoming clear on this yourself, it wouldn't have been fair of him to push you into something you might not have been ready for. It needs to be your decision, Jimmy. I'm glad you found someone who realizes that you're worth waiting for."

Jimmy slipped down a little in his chair, crossing his feet at the ankles, and folding his hands across his belly. "Problem is, I'm not sure how much longer I'm willing to wait."

His mother took a breath. It was a little scary, seeing her son contemplating his first adult relationship. Knowing Jimmy, there was a good chance it would be his ONLY relationship. She only hoped that it would work out, that the person her boy had fixed his affection on would respond in kind. "You've got your birthday soon, dear. Can you wait that long? It will give you time to be sure. And if he's worried about your age, it would be more fair for him, too."

Jimmy mentally counted the days to his birthday, then nodded. "I think so. Yeah, that would be right."

"Now then," She sat down again. "Are you going to finish that, or do you want me to get you a warm plate?"

Jimmy laughed, and began eating. "Even cold, your cooking is terrific, Mom."

"Is this little talk going to make things better for you?"

"You have no idea. There's something else that's been bothering me, but it seems a little insignificant now. And I think all I have to do is stand up and face it. Now that I know I have two people who'll back me up."

"You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to, Jimmy, but I'd like to know who's special enough to have stolen your heart. But I'll ask again, do I know him?"

The fork slowed, and again the color was rising in his cheeks. "You know him. He's...he's been over here before."

Mrs. Olsen ran over a list of people she'd had over for dinner, or just to visit. Jimmy had said it wasn't any of his friends from school. Perry White...well, he was a handsome enough man, but she knew Jimmy looked up to him as a father. So that would leave...She smiled. "That would be Mr. Kent, would it?" He didn't really need to answer. His face positively glowed at the mention of the reporter she knew he hero worshipped. Now it seemed that that puppy crush had deepened into something stronger and sweeter.

"Mr. Kent is a good man," she said quietly. "And he's a professional, too." She grinned mischieviously at her son. "Quite the looker, as well. I'm so happy you've found someone, Jimmy. The only problem is," she sighed. "I was kind of looking forward to meddling in wedding plans somewhere down the line."

Jimmy laughed, "Geez, Mom, I guess it's a good thing I haven't been bringing girls home. You'd have had me married off in no time, just to get a white lace and rice fix."

She smiled serenely. "That's alright, son. Some of the strongest, most loving marriages in the world have never seen the inside of a church or been filed with the government. I think you and Clark will work things out."

*************

Lois had her vacation right after that, so Jimmy had two weeks of peace It was such a relief to be able to go into work without worrying about the sly touches or the sultry innuendos. He could just do his job without any stress. Well, that wasn't quite true.

Clark was scarcely in the office at all those days. It seemed like he always was out chasing a lead or doing an interview. Jimmy missed the quiet times they'd spent just talking in the newsroom or the breakroom. But Clark was serious about that 'no private talks' statement.

Once he started to come into the break room when Jimmy was alone there. He stopped at the door when he saw that there was no one else in the room. They stared at each other for almost a minute. It would have seemed odd to anyone who'd come by right then, the two men just looking at each other in silence. Jimmy could see Clark's hand working on the door knob. He wanted to say something, but how could he, when any moment someone might walk past? He bit his lip in frustration, and shivered when he saw Clark's reaction to the tiny gesture. The older man's entire strong body seemed to tremble minutely, and his hand tightened again, till there was the faint squeak of tortured metal. Then he stepped back out into the hall and gently closed the door. Jimmy had to sit down, because his knees didn't seem to want to hold him up.

So during his forced shunning, Jimmy used the time to see if he was sure, like his Mom had suggested. He did a lot of thinking. And he looked at other guys. A lot. In the locker room at school, around the presses, on the street. He found that he could appreciate a good looking man, in an abstract way. It was the same with a good looking girl. He could admire their physical attributes, their personalities. But none of them gave him that breathless, twitchy feeling he got when he just thought about Clark.

Lois came back to work, looking better than ever, with a glowing tan and sheafs of vacation photos. Jimmy found one of her in a scandalous bikini propped on his typewriter, and he groaned. He'd hoped she would have grown tired of this game while she was gone.

Lois was showing the other photos to Perry, but she kept an eye on Jimmy's reaction. So did Clark. He came over and glanced at the photo, then looked at Jimmy questioningly. Jimmy didn't look dismayed this time. His chocolate brown eyes were clear, and his mouth had thinned to a determined line. "I'm alright, Clark. I've had enough of this foolishness, and I'm going to stop it."

Kent studied the boy...no. Young man. A level headed young man who was tired of being harassed, and ready to stand up, even fight back, if need be. He nodded. "Good."

Jimmy got his opportunity sooner than he expected. He was doing some research for one of the minor reporters down in the clippings morgue. He was bent over a file drawer, absorbed in sorting through folders, when someone goosed him.

He jumped, yelping in shock, banging his shins smartly, and heard feminin laughter. He didn't stop to think about what to say, he didn't hesitate and consider delicate phrasing and diplomatic terms. He just turned and roared, "CUT IT OUT!"

Lois Lane looked startled, but still grinned at him. "Just a friendly greeting, Jimmy."

"Stop it, Miss Lane! That was rude, and embarassing."

"Yeah? Then why aren't you blushing?"

"Because I'm mad, Miss Lane. I get pale when I'm really angry."

Lois blinked. It was true. Jimmy was naturally pale, but his skin now was so white that his freckles stood out in sharp contrast. He looked cute as hell, but he also looked...Well, he didn't look vulnerable anymore. He had a lot more self confidence.

She shrugged. "Geez, sorry."

"NO!" She winced as he kicked the drawer shut. Jimmy glared at her. "You don't smooth it over that easy. You've been...AFTER me for the past few months. I want it to stop. Now."

She looked surprised, and a little ashamed. "I didn't mean anything by it, Jimmy. I was just having fun."

"That's what makes it so bad. If it didn't mean anything, why did you bother? And that's how you have fun, making someone so uncomfortable that they can't think straight?"

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I didn't realize you'd take it so hard."

His voice was low and furious, "Well, why don't you just think of how much you'd like it if someone, someone you didn't love, started putting their hands on you, and talking sex to you, and they WOULDN'T STOP. Not even when they could see you weren't interested? I've seen enough of you to know how you'd react, Lois. You'd hammer him with the first thing you could pick up, be it a book or a brick. I don't have that option, because you're a woman. But it's harassment, any way you look at it."

Jimmy couldn't be sure that Lois would really understand what he was trying to say, but enough of it seemed to get through. She said quietly, "Okay, Jimmy. I get the message. No more." She started toward the door. But apparently she couldn't resist one parting shot. She called back over her shoulder. "Next time, better make it a rootbeer."

*************

For the first time in months, Jimmy didn't half dread going to work. Miss Lane was good to her word. The little pats, pets, and pinches stopped. There was no more innuendo in their conversations. Actually, there wasn't much conversation. It seemed that Lois had met Trey, the new apprentice typesetter who'd come on board while she was on vacation. Trey was nineteen, built like a linebacker, and had absolutely no problem with being sexually harassed.

So Jimmy could breath again. Except when Clark was around. Because Clark, though he expressed pleasure that Jimmy was no longer being hunted through the Daily Planet offices, had not gone back to the easy friendship they'd had before that talk in the break room. There was still that distance. And it was killing Jimmy, because he could see that it was a strain for Clark as well as for himself.

He finally reached a breaking point on the day of the staff meeting. It was a monthly affair, held in the conference room. All staff except the most menial laborors gathered in the conference room, crowded around the big table. Clark was late, filing some important copy. When he came in, the only seat left was next to Jimmy.

He hesitated, and Jimmy prayed that he wouldn't humiliate him by refusing to sit next to him. It would look like a school yard snub if Clark remained standing rather than sit next to the cub reporter. At last he slid into the seat, staring studiously at the pad he'd brought to take notes.

Even then, perhaps nothing would have happened if the social editor hadn't breezed in even later, ten minutes into the meeting. She twittered about for a moment, till Perry suggested she take a spare chair from against the wall and make room. Never missing the opportunity to get close to a handsome man, she'd pushed in on Clark's other side, forcing him over with chirpy bossiness.

Their arms were touching, shoulder to elbow. Jimmy's right arm was against Clark's left, rubbing against him as he took notes. His writing got shakier as the meeting went on, degenerating into a scrawl that even his mother wouldn't have been able to interpret. When the meeting was over, he bolted up out of his seat and was the first one out of the room.

Jimmy almost ran to the men's room. There he ran cold water in the basin and splashed his fevered face, gasping at the chill. He grabbed a wad of paper towels and scrubbed away the moisture roughly, tossing the wad in the wastepaper basket.

But he couldn't leave yet, not till he got himself under control. He leaned on the counter, hands braced wide, head hanging, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself, from what emotion he couldn't say.

He heard the door open, and squeezed his eyes shut. He hoped that whoever it was would be tactful enough to just do their business and leave without comment. No such luck.

He knew the moment that the hand touched his shoulder. He'd never really felt that touch, but it was somehow as familiar as his own breathing. He didn't need to hear the deep, concerned voice. "Jimmy? Are you alright?"

His eyes snapped open, and he stared at his own image in the mirror. Clark stood behind him, hand on his shoulder. The look on his face was so tender and concerned that it made Jimmy want to cry. His own voice was ragged. "No, I'm not."

He'd acted without thinking or considering before, and it had worked. If he'd had time for the least bit of reflection, he wouldn't have, because there was so much at stake. But once again he just acted on instinct.

Jimmy whirled. He reached out, grabbed the back of Clark's head, and leaned in to him, planting his lips squarely on that beautiful, chisled mouth. The older man froze. Jimmy moved his lips insistantly, begging silently.

There was a muffled groan, and Clark's arms went around him, dragging him tight. His lips parted. Jimmy was a little surprised. But when Clark's hot tongue glided over his own lips, probing, he got the idea. His lips parted in surrender, and suddenly he wasn't the agressor any more.

Clark's tongue slipped in, stroking his own. Jimmy moaned deep in his throat at this new sensation, and arched against the older man, desperately wanting to feel the hard length of his body. His hands slipped down. It was hard to reach over Clark's encircling arms, but he tried, straining to stroke his back.

Clark shifted his hold, never breaking the kiss. Now Jimmy's arms were held to his sides, but he didn't feel trapped. He felt sheltered. Clark leaned forward, and Jimmy stumbled a step back. His butt hit the counter, and he was pressed back, bending in a taut bow.

Jimmy didn't really know what he was doing. All he knew was that it was glorious, and he wanted to be even closer to this man, this hot man who was driving him crazy. He spread his legs, and Clark sort of fell between them. When their crotchs bumped, the hard heat was too much, and Jimmy tore his mouth free, gasping. "Oh, god!"

The effect was immediate. Clark jerked like someone violently waking up from a disturbing dream. He stared down at Jimmy, taking in the flushed face, the lust glazed eyes, and the kiss swollen lips. "What am I doing?" he whispered. He let go and stepped back carefully, his expression stricken. "Jimmy...I'm so sorry."

Jimmy struggled upright, panting. Before he could draw enough breath to reply, Clark was gone. Jimmy, oblivious to he newfound maturity, wailed softly with disappointment and frustration. But what could he have expected? Clark was right, in a way. What was he thinking of, just grabbing him like that? And in a public men's room. People got arrested for things like that. No wonder he had run. Jimmy just had to hope that he hadn't screwed things up totally.

***********

"You sure you don't mind being alone on your birthday, Jimmy?"

"No, Mom, I'll be fine. You go see Aunt Clara. This'll be the first anniversery of Uncle Simon's death, and she needs you with her."

"You're a good boy, Jimmy. But are you sure? This'll be the first time you've ever spent your birthday alone."

"About that, Mom. I was wondering if it would be alright if I invited someone over to help me celebrate."

Millicent Olsen looked at her son. He'd grown up so much lately. He had always known that he wanted to be a journalist, now he was finding out what else he wanted out of life. "I think that would be a good idea, son. I'd be happy, knowing you weren't alone." She paused, "About the cake, I know that you're easy to please. Do you suppose Clark would like chocolate, or vanilla?" Jimmy kissed his mother on the cheek gratefully.

Clark had been avoiding him even more stringently since the incident in the washroom. But Jimmy would look up to find him watching, and it was a moment before he'd look away.

That next morning, Jimmy waited untill Lois was busy rattling off copy, so that their chaparone would be distracted. He went to Clark's desk, not getting too close, and said softly, "Hey."

He looked up, and seemed to hold the paper in his hand just a little bit tighter. "Yes, Jimmy?"

"My mom said I could invite you over to help celebrate my birthday." He cleared his throat. "My eighteenth birthday. It's today."

The paper crinkled. Clark didn't blink, didn't seem to breath. He said slowly. "Today." Jimmy nodded. "Your mother's idea?"

"My idea. She said it was okay and baked a cake."

Clark relaxed a little, and smiled. "Well, I can't turn down you're mother's cooking? What time should I be there?"

"What time are you free?"

"I don't have anything planned for tonight."

"So you don't have to worry about when to leave. That's good. Would it be too much trouble to give me a ride home, then?" Clark started to frown, and Jimmy said quietly. "I could sit in the backseat, if you want."

His expression softened. "No, that's not necessary. I'll see you outside after work."

Jimmy stayed over on the passenger side on the drive to his apartment, and they talked about...things. He never could remember what later on. Baseball? The looming sanitation strike? He DID know that they didn't talk about Lois...or the incident in the men's room.

In the apartment, Jimmy went and opened a window, switching on a fan to stir the still, warm air. "Sorry it's so hot in here. Don't dare leave the windows open with no one here these days."

Clark hesitated, frowning. "Your mother isn't here?"

"She won't be gone long." Jimmy took off his bow tie and opened his shirt collar with a sigh of relief. "Boy that feels better. Good to be home. Why don't you take off your jacket, Clark? You know you don't have to stand on ceremony here."

"I'm not sure I should..."

"C'mon, you're sweating. It won't hurt anything."

Clark took off his jacket and hung it neatly over a chair while Jimmy went into the kitchen. After a moment's thought, he slowly removed his tie and put it in his jacket pocket, then rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Jimmy ruturned, juggling plates, knife, forks, and one of the smallest cakes Clark had ever seen. It was no bigger around than a saucer, but it had been lovingly decorated. There was a single molded candle, "18" in the center. "Yeah, you look more comfortable now." He indicated the tiny pastry. "Mom had a bigger cake last night. We had a couple of my friends over from school."

"You didn't have to get another one specially for me. I would have been happy with crumbs," Clark joked.

Jimmy depositted his load carefully. "I didn't want you to have leftovers." He looked at his friend seriously. "Don't you think you deserve more than crumbs, Clark?"

All the times in my like, Jimmy thought, that I've colored up, this is the first time I've made someone else blush. He got a match, and lit the candle.

"Shouldn't we wait for your mother?"

"No, we had our celebration last night. This is for just me and you." He sat back and looked at Clark. "Well? Are you going to sing, or are we going to be eating wax?"

Clark rolled his eyes, and sang 'Happy Birthday' in a smooth, pleasant baritone. Jimmy promptly blew out the candle with one strong puff. Clark clapped. "Well, one thing about a single candle, less chance of not getting you wish."

Jimmy removed the candle and cut the cake.. "I had the whole eighteen last night, and I got them all."

"What did you wish for?"

Jimmy's head was tipped down as he distributed the slices. He glanced up at Clark, peering through eyelashes that were startlingly dark with his pale coloring. Clark's breath caught in his thoat. Jimmy murmured, "If I tell, it might not come true. I want it to come true." He offered a plate to Clark.

Clark took it, and held it. Jimmy didn't pick up his own plate. Clark said slowly, "Where's your mother, Jimmy? I thought she told you to invite me."

"She's at my Aunt Clara's. and she'll be gone for the weekend. We celebrated early, because she was going to be away."

Jimmy wanted to look at the floor, look at his hands, look anywhere but into those blue eyes while he laid himself open. But he forced himself to face Clark, and said simply, "I had a talk with her."

Clark was very still, then he set his plate back on the table. "How did it go?"

Jimmy shrugged, smiling. "She's my Mom. She'll always be my Mom."

"I'm glad."

"She just worries about me. She's been worried about me being alone." He hesitated. "Not just on my birthday, but...alone. You know?"

There was a flash of pain in Clark's eyes. "Yes, I know."

The silence spun out. Finally, in a low voice, Jimmy said, "I'm eighteen. I've been eighteen since about seven this morning. That means I make my own decisions now."

Again there was silence. Jimmy closed his eyes. We can't say it, neither one of us, he thought. Then he remembered Clark's words in the break room. "If people are brave enough to follow their hearts." Jimmy took a deep breath, and did one of the bravest things of his life. He risked the safety of friendship for something more.

"I want to be with you, Clark. As much as I can." He made direct eye contact. "Any way that you'll let me. That is, if you want anything to do with a mixed up guy who's just now figuring out what he wants."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. It took me longer than you to know what I wanted, and longer to find it." Clark reached out, and gently touched Jimmy's face, tracing a finger down the line of his cheek, then cupping it, as he had at the Daily Planet. "And I can hardly believe it now. Would I want anything to do with you? Dear god..."

Once again his hand slid back into Jimmy's hair, combing through the flaming strans till he help the back of his head. His voice was rough. "You don't know what it's been like, watching you the last two years. Seeing you grow form a fresh kid to a young man. Not daring to touch you, or tell you how I felt."

Jimmy slid his arms loosely around Clark's waist, not demanding. He whispered, "I've had feelings for you for a long time. I just wasn't sure what they were. And...and lately when you wouldn't talk to me..." Before his friend could apologize, Jimmy said hastily, "No, I understand why you did it. You didn't want me to feel pressured."

His voice was ragged. "It wasn't all that noble, Jimmy. I was afraid that if I was alone with you, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. I didn't want to scare you."

"Did I act scared in the men's room?" He tightened his embrace, pulling closer to Clark He felt the grip in his hair tighten.

"No."

"How did I act?"

There was a hint of amusement in the rising heat of his voice. "The truth? You acted like a wanton little hussy."

"A FRUSTRATED wanton hussy." Jimmy corrected. He licked his lips. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

There was a low growl, and Clark used his grip on Jimmy's hair to pull him forward. This time when their mouths touched, Jimmy already had his lips parted. He was a fast learner.

The kiss was less desperate than the one they'd shared before. Instead of a declaration, it was an initiation. The start of something that was going to be very important, and very sweet.

Jimmy had kissed girls before, 'good girls', and it was nothing like this. This was warm and wet and deep and soft and rough, all at once. It was gentle, and hungry. And Jimmy returned it with every fiber of his being. Soon he started to feel dizzy, and he couldn't tell if it was from sensory overload, or lack of oxygen.

Finally he pulled back a little, gasping, "Breathe. Gotta breathe, Clark."

"Sorry."

"No, it's just that this won't be much fun if I pass out, will it?" Clark laughs. As he does, Jimmy takes the opportunity to pluck off his glasses and lay them aside. Those gorgeous blue eyes don't look any more unfocussed, and he wonders if maybe Clark needs them more as a sheild from the world than as vision correction. He purrs, "Why, Mr. Kent. You're beautiful without your glasses!"

This sends them both into a fit of laughter. They cling to each other, the laughter rippling, dispelling tension. Then suddenly Clark's arm tighten around him again, and Jimmy looks up into eyes that still burn, but have gone dark. "Want you, Jimmy," Clark whispers. "Want you so bad."

Jimmy digs his fingers sharply into Clark's back. "Then take me."

He's disappointed when Clark lets go of him, but that only lasts an instant. Because Clark is opening his belt, unzipping his fly. Oh god, Jimmy thinks. It's happening, it's really happening. Now Clark is working at his own pants, and Jimmy can hardly breath. "Pull them down." Jimmy blinks at him. Clark repeats himself, firmly. "Your pants and shorts. Pull them down for me."

Starting to shake, Jimmy lifts on the couch, and slides the garments down his thighs, past his knees. Clark is doing the same, and Jimmy goes round eyed. He'd seen other men, in the shower room at school, briefly at urinals. He hadn't really looked, or compared. Now his eyes were rivited to Clark's crotch.

He'd tucked aside his shirt tails. Jimmy could see the lower part of his abdomen, flat and ridged. A thin trickle of dark hair ran down to a curly thatch the same blue-black color of his hair. And Jimmy could have no lingering doubts as to whether or not his chosen lover found him attractive.

Clark was thoroughly aroused. He cock, long and thick, was rigid. The swollen head was a deep rose pink, and it was slick with the fluid that leaked from the tiny slit. Jimmy had been half hard himself. At the sight of Clark's obvious desire, and the knowledge that it was because of HIM...Staring, he gripped himself, squeezing.

"No." Clark took his hands, and pulled them over to wrap them around his own heated flesh. Then he took Jimmy's suddenly straining cock in his own hand and stroked softly. "That's better, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jimmy breathed. It was incredibly. He'd masterbated before, (like Lois had said, he WAS young and healthy), but it couldn't compair to this. He gave Clark's erection a tentative squeeze, and was rewarded with another breath stealing kiss. He began to touch the other man more boldly. He let his hands glide up and down the length of the hard shaft, feeling the skin slide against his palm like heated velvet. Clark was doing the same, but he wasn't hesitant about it. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, precisely what to do to give the maximum amount of pleasure, and Jimmy was grateful.

Jimmy reached farther down, and his hand found the soft, heavy sack of Clark's scrotum. He cradled it in his fingers, and massaged carefully. He was trying to be carefull. Too much pressure, he knew, could be painful tothe point of agony, but he knew from personal exploration how pleasureable the right sort of touch could be.

Clark moved suddenly. He half stood. One arm scooped Jimmy's legs, still with his clothes tangled around his ankles, onto the couch. The other turned and pushed him till he was lying flat. Then he was half on the couch, one knee braced beside Jimmy's bare hip, the other leg half bent, with his foot stioo on the floor. His hands were braced on either side of Jimmy's shoulders. "Is it alright like this, Jimmy? Do you want me like this?"

Jimmy writhed in frustration. "I want you any way I can get you. Please, Clark."

Clark jerked the collar of Jimmy's shirt to the side, popping a button that didn't have the good sense to slide free, and he dragged Jimmy's Fruit of the Loom undershirt aside. He buried his face in the curve where his neck met his shoulder, then lowered himself till their bare hardons brushed.

Jimmy groaned and trembled, clutching at his lover. He arched up, sliding himself against Clark. *Yes, this is right. This is so right.* Clark began to move against him, rocking his hips. Jimmy followed him as best he could, but he was rapidly losing any form of self control.

He wanted to touch Clark even more, but his hands tangled with Clark's shirt, and undershirt. He just couldn't manage to remove them while Clark was pushing against him, and he damn sure didn't want it to stop, for any reason. He wanted to wrap his legs aroun Clark, but his feet were still shackled by his trousers. He thrashed, moaning, "Stupid clothes! Stupid fucking clothes!"

There was a muffled laugh at his obscenity. It was so unlike Jimmy's usual manner of speech. But Clark didn't stop. He grabbed Jimmy's hands and pulled them up, pinning them against the cushion over his head, braced himself with his foot on the floor, and thrust against his young, writhing partner hard and fast.

Jimmy bucked against him hard. He had a feeling that his hips, and maybe even his belly, were going to be sore and a little bruised later, but he didn't care. It was a small price to pay for the mind numbing pleasure he was experiencing.

Then Clark was muttering in his ear. "I'm going to cum soon, Jimmy. That's what you're doing to me. I want you to cum, too. I'll make you cum."

He reached between them. Without his arms to support it, his weight dropped down on Jimmy, just this side of being uncomfortable. His big hands encircled them both, holding their engorged cocks against each other. He pumped, whispering, "Move now!"

Jimmy pushed frantically, forcing himself deeper into that strong grip, tighter against the throbbing dick that pressed against his own. And he came with a hoarse cry, his cream shooting more strongly than it ever had before. His orgasm triggered Clark's, and Jimmy felt the pulse of the first orgasm he'd ever given another being. Clark cried out Jimmy's name, lunging against him as his seed spilled between them, slicking their heaving bellies. He thrust several more times, each splash diminishing. At last he lay still, except for the heaving of his breath.

When he could breath again, Jimmy spoke in a quiet, almost awestruck voice. "Wow."

Clark chuckled. "Yes, I think that deserved a wow." He propped himself up on his elbows, and kissed Jimmy, softly and sweetly. "I'm sorry it was over so soon, but I'd been waiting for a long time."

Jimmy hugged him. "Believe me, I didn't notice anything wrong. You may not be this easy to please, farther down the road."

Jimmy took Clark's face between his palms. "There WILL be other times, won't there, Clark?"

"Jimmy..." His voice was chiding. Clark sat up, pulling Jimmy with him. "You didn't think I'd want just a one night stand, did you?"

"I was hoping." He leaned against Clark's chest, just resting there. "You know what you're doing, don't you?"

Clark stroked his hair. "I'm wasn't a virgin coming into this, is that's what you mean. Does it bother you?"

"Heck no. It's good that one of us know's what they're doing. But you're with me now, right?"

Clark kissed his temple. "Yes. I'm with you. Just a second, Jimmy. I feel the need for a modicrum of dignity when I do this." He stood up and pulled up his pants, ignoring the mess on his belly and shirt, and fastened them. "You too."

"Why?"

"Because you're too distracting otherwise, you little tease. Go on." Jimmy reluctantly untangled his clothes and pulled them back up, fastening his pants, then sitting again. Clark pulled something out of his pocket and sat back down.

He was holding a small, oval hinged wooden box. It was delicately carved with intricate patterns, vanished to a satin gleam. "Is that my birthday present?" Jimmy asked, interestedly.

"No, this is something very different." Clark traced his fingers over the patterns. "I made this myself. This, and what it contains, because it's meaning is too personal to be trusted to a stranger. I've had it for almost a year now. I've carried it with me all the time. I've been waiting for the right moment to offer it to you. I thought it was going to be a long time yet before I could, but now..."

He opened the box. It contained a puff of white satin, and he dug beneath it, and produced a ring. Jimmy stopped breathing.

It wasn't a classic wedding band, or a dainty engagement ring. It was weighty. It resembled a signet ring, and Jimmy could tell by the mellow gleam that it was real gold. He'd be able to tell later, by it's weight, that it was solid. Clark turned it, so that Jimmy could see the inscription inside, "KE/JO". Clark was explaining. "No date, because I wasn't sure when I'd feel like I could speak to you. And the initials...I have another name my parents gave me, one that's really me. If you decide you want to be with me, really be with me, I'll tell you about it."

He turned the ring over and showed him the face. There was a simple, elegant design etched in the flat gold face. It was something like a Celtic knot, but there was a touch of angularity, an echo of something exotic. "This symbol means 'joined'. If you accept it, it means that we're bonded. It's an oath, a promise. It's as strong as a marriage vow, Jimmy. So think carefully."

Jimmy stared at the ring, now cradled in Clark's palm. Clark said quietly. "I shouldn't have done this so soon, but...You don't have to decide now, Jimmy. I can wait. I've been waiting a long time, I can wait a little longer."

Jimmy picked up the ring. "I can't. I guess I can tell you now. This is what I wished for. Which finger does this go on?"

the end