stands_for_hope | At Home with Clark and Jim

Entry tags:

house of am

At Home with Clark and Jim

[continued from here]

They'd fallen into a routine pretty easily.

Clark had managed to write up something about the church bust without incriminating either of them, which meant that his Perry had been pleased enough with his work for the day and had only yelled at him for five minutes about his failure to show up in the office the whole day. Lois had ribbed him a little, which had been remarked upon as she usually gave the new guy hell if he did anything remotely out of the line, and then she'd ribbed him a lot. He hadn't minded too terribly much since he had visited her afterwards at her apartment and she'd done plenty of kissing to make it better.

With a second person in the apartment, he'd started to fix it up a little, bringing home new linens, keeping the fridge stocked more regularly, and he'd even managed to find a new couch for them through a very kindly older woman and Craigslist.

True to his word, he'd gotten some rudimentary identification for Jim and he walked through the door with a spring in his step, closing the door behind him and plopping it down on the kitchen table with a smile.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That I can do," he said, breathing out with a touch of relief. He let a bit of a smile creep onto his face as he looked at Jim, not mocking but warm.

"I'm not trading Lois's safety for yours, is all. After all, I let something happen to you, and Ma'd kill me."

Clark's mother. He already liked the woman. They'd only had the one phone conversation, but she'd been so welcoming. He couldn't think of her in any other way than warm and welcoming. It was surprising to be taken out of his planning by the thought of needing to survive for long enough to actually meet her. "I'll be fine," he said. "And I wouldn't want to disappoint your mother."

"You're a smart man, Jim," he said with the ghost of a grin.

He breathed out then and looked at his empty bowl before turning to look at Jim's.

"Sorry I ruined dinner."

"You didn't," Jim said, looking up from his bowl. "The curry is good. Anything spicier, I think I would have to get accustomed to, but the flavour is... unique."

That was the best word he could think of to describe it. "We... just have plans to make."

"I'll call Lois in a few minutes. She can tell you more, maybe see if anything makes sense to you out of what she's found."

He got up and put his dishes in the sink, running the water and washing them off before anything could solidify.

"And I'll make another version at the hotness level from tonight sometime next week. Maybe with a little tofu."

Jim nodded, getting up to help dry if Clark was going to wash. "I'm willing to try," he said. "The worst that can happen is that I find out I don't like it." But then, after a pause, he looked over to ask, "How much should we tell Lois about me?"

Clark knew better than he did. He'd not met Lois, even over the phone. That meant this was firmly in Clark's territory.

"In my opinion?"

He breathed out and ran a damp hand through his hair before turning to look at Jim.

"Everything."

He held up the hand, begging Jim silently to give him time to explain.

"She's a reporter, and that means two things. One, she's used to people holding out on her and two, if there's something being held out on her, she wants to know what it is and there's few more dogged than Lois.

"If you tell her, she won't feel the urge to dig. And not only that, but trusting her... it's rare, so it means a lot to her. You trust her with your secrets and not only won't you ever see a word of it in her articles, but she'll help you protect it as best she can."

He turned to lean against the counter, eyes seeking Jim's again.

"I wouldn't be so keen if I hadn't seen how she handled my own secret. She was willing to run from the FBI for me, when the whole world wanted to serve me up to Zod on a platter. If you can trust me, you can trust Lois."

He listened to every word and slowly nodded. The worst that could happen--

Well, he knew it. He knew what could happen, what could be done - to him, and to anyone else. He knew to fear the whisper of 'Hail Hydra,' but also knew that unless he was triggered somehow, or mindwiped yet again, he could take down any agent Hydra put up against him with the possible exceptions of a sympathetic Asgardian or someone in full metal armour.

But he also knew there was no reason to think about that until and unless he was faced with it. There was no need to declare something impossible until it actually was.

"All right."

"I'll see if she can come over tomorrow after work," he said with a quick nod.

"Don't be surprised if she has questions, though," and he was smiling just a little.

"Mostly because she's been curious about my mysterious roommate for a while."

He decided, that quickly, to be wearing a T-shirt when Clark came home. It would be after work for him, too, so he'd have to rush, to get home, to shower so he wouldn't be dripping sweat. A fragment of memory was enough to tell him that being clean for visitors - especially female visitors - was polite. "I'll see about picking something up on my way home."

"Picking something up?"

He wasn't sure what that was pertaining to, but he could guess. He guessed wrong, but it wasn't a terrible idea.

"Yeah, might be best if we aren't cooking while planning on what to do re: Metropolis's HYDRA operatives."

Jim nodded. That was what he'd intended. It wasn't time for him to raid his hidden weapons cache just yet. Not just yet. That would happen soon enough. "What should I get?"

"We could do chinese. Chinese sound good?"

Because of course you have to have a proper meal while planning the downfall of a number of covert operatives within the city's already-damaged infrastructure. Can't plan on an empty stomach.

"Lois likes Chinese and there's a good place just around the block."

"I think I had Chinese," Jim answered. He'd remembered... a lot. But some of the small details, the everyday things - those were still lost. Still beyond reach. He didn't mind so much except in these situations, where he didn't know if he liked something or if he didn't - if he'd ever eaten food from China or if he hadn't. He could remember kicking some guys' asses as they were beating up a scrawny blonde kid, but he couldn't remember his favourite flavour of ice cream. "I'll drop by there on my way home and see what smells good."

"If you can get me a couple of the Buddhist dishes, or anything labeled vegetarian, I'll probably be good. I know Lois likes General Tso's Chicken, if that helps."

He runs a hand through his hair before heading back over to the oven, pulling out the pie. He never uses oven mitts when he's at home, but he puts one underneath the pan just in case.

"Is there anything you're going to need? I can rent a car or take you there if it's not nearby."

After a moment's thought, and after some doubt in his own memory, he reached for a pen and wrote it on his forearm. In Chinese. After seeing it, he sighed out a breath. "I should be fine. If I don't get my weapons tomorrow, they can wait a day."

Weapons... could come later. Once they actually had a plan in place, and when Jim had a weekend, they could get this done.

"Sounds like everything's in order then," he said with a breath out.

"For now, let's... relax, enjoy our good fortune, and we'll get this taken care of, Jim. I know we can do it."

"Eternal optimist," Jim muttered, but with an absolute lack of venom. If anything, it was with a dose of fondness, a faint smile on his face.

Clark chuckled at the response before heading back to the oven to cut into the pie.

"This place could use a little optimism," he said. Maybe he means the world, maybe he means the city, and maybe he means the apartment. Either way.

"Also pie. Want a plate?"

"I like pie."

Now that, he didn't even have to think to know. Dessert was always a good idea, so he was all for it. While Clark cut pie, he topped off both their chosen drinks. And it was as he settled Clark's glass back on the table that he said quietly, "I like it here."

Clark brought the plate over and gave Jim a smile.

"Same."

And then he was sitting down to enjoy his pie with his roommate, doing his best not to think about tomorrow. Nope, he was just going to enjoy sitting with a good friend, having pie, and celebrating the good things in life.

He ate quietly, enjoying the quiet, enjoying the pie, and letting his subconscious work out the details of what would happen the following day. "I don't know what time I'll get off work tomorrow," he eventually offered. "I know I need to be there at seven, so if I work eight hours with a lunch break, I'll be here at around four or five."

"We'll be here around five thirty," Clark supplies, in between a couple of bites of pie "since we need to grab some of her work from her apartment."

"I'll grab some coffee once I drop her off. Lois is definitely a happier human being with some coffee in her at any hour."

Jim nodded. "Then I should have time to get everything done." Time to get to the restaurant, get home, shower - he doubted he'd have the time to get his weapons, but that could wait. He'd at least have food ready by the time they got there.

"I'll talk to Lombard about switching the tickets. He told me I was good to ask whenever I wanted... as long as it wasn't a Monarch's game."

Because Lombard is a bit of a jerk, but Clark's not going to fail to take advantage of it if it means free tickets. He might be able to deflect bullets and fly, but he's still got bills like the next man.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject