Lois Lane was many things. An excellent journalist, recklessly fearless, stubbornly independent to the point of being impossible, and- if you believed the gossip- a workaholic running on sugar and caffeine with the occasional side of sleep deprivation. What Lois wasn’t, was a romantic. She didn’t pine. She didn’t get swept up in all-consuming, hearts-and-flowers nonsense. The idea of making someone your “entire world” sounded ridiculous. Maybe that’s why her love life had the shelf life of a carton of milk. Everyone she dated- guy or girl- wanted something different than she did, and the crash-and-burn was inevitable.

No matter. Her job at the Daily Planet was the thing. Always. Right now, that meant chasing a lead on LexCorp’s shadier practices- because every time Lex Luthor smiled in public, Lois assumed someone, somewhere, was getting screwed over. A few weeks ago, she’d even tried to land an exclusive with Supergirl, hoping the Kryptonian had intel she didn’t.

And then she found out the slightly awkward, maddeningly blasé reporter across the aisle- who she’d thought was just another wide eyed girl living in a city like Metropolis for the first time- was Supergirl.

Yeah. You.

You’d dropped that little bomb last night on your second date, and Lois’s brain was still trying to find the floor after it fell out from under her. You, who Perry practically worshipped because you somehow scored every Supergirl interview for the paper. Turns out you’d been interviewing yourself the whole time. That was either the most insane journalistic integrity violation in history or a Pulitzer-worthy exercise in performance art.

And, honestly? Lois couldn’t even figure out why she’d agreed to the first date. She never dated coworkers, office gossip was the fastest way to kill a romance, but she liked you. She’d admit it. You were a damn good journalist, but it was the other stuff that got her. You were funny. Unapologetically yourself. Blissfully indifferent to what anyone thought. Date one had been a test: could she stand you outside the bullpen? Apparently, yes. No kiss, but a shockingly good time.

Date two- last night- was supposed to tank. Second dates usually did. But it didn’t. You made her feel like you could talk forever and never hit dead air. And then, in front of her apartment door, you’d dropped the cape-shaped revelation barely a few moments after your first kiss! She’d told you she needed to think. And she had. She’d thought about the deception, about the sheer absurdity of it all… and about the fact she was still wildly, annoyingly attracted to you. Maybe more so now. Which should have been a dealbreaker. Should have.

When she walked into the office this morning, she saw you at your desk-neat as a pin but still somehow an endearing mess, typing away-and went straight to hers without so much as a nod. Routine was necessary. Change that, and the office would smell blood in the water. No thank you.

Lois stood at her desk, sipping coffee as Perry launched into his morning address and asignments. You listened, all polite focus, and Lois found herself staring. The glasses- were they even prescription? And if you could hear a dog whistle from three blocks away, you could definitely hear her muttering under her breath. Which meant-

Lois raised her cup to cover her mouth and didn’t drink as she whispered softly.

“Hey, Supergirl?”

You turned instantly, and- okay, fine- her stomach did a little flip. Heroic reflexes or just recognition of her voice on your part, she wasn’t sure. Lois smirked, voice still inaudibly low.

“Wow. Okay. File room after Perry’s done. We should probably talk.”

Once the meeting wrapped, you obeyed, and she just followed, shutting the file room door behind her with a decisive click. Lois didn’t hesitate to pluck your glasses right off your face, holding them up like she was inspecting alien tech.

“So… you don’t even need these, right? You can see just fine. What’s the point? Disguise? Fashion statement? Attempt to look like a mild-mannered reporter cliché? I will admit, they are cute I suppose.”