Chapter Text
Clark is sick.
Richard notices it when he sees the man coughing into a case file. It’s an unusual sight, because Clark normally has the rude health of a young bull. He doesn’t catch colds, doesn’t get food-poisoning, and once downed seven tequila shots and didn’t even wobble (Christmas party; there’s footage somewhere). Seeing him hacking into a handkerchief, looking washed out and sorry for himself, is unusual in the extreme.
Richard feels enough concern to put down the file he’s reading and walk across the bullpen.
“You know, Clark. If you’re sick, you don’t have to be here.”
Clark looks up with that perpetually startled look behind his glasses.
“Oh it’s no problem.” He coughs again. “Really, I feel fine.”
It’s a weak lie. Whilst Clark is quite talented at dissembling and distraction – something that Richard realized after a few weeks of working with him, and that he suspects Perry knew from the start – he’s lousy at outright lying.
Still, Richard can’t force a grown man to go home and rest up, though he really feels that’s what he should be doing.
“Well, if you’re sure,” he says reluctantly.
Clark smiles brightly, pushing his glasses back onto his nose where they’d begun to slip.
“Oh yes, I’m sure. Thank you anyway.”
Richard walks back to Lois’ desk with a smile. There is something charming about Clark’s innocence. He’s the kind of guy who’ll say ‘gosh-darn’ and blush as if it was purest filth coming out of his mouth. He’ll always hold a door open for a lady, but trip over his own feet if asked out to dinner. Quite simply, he’s the kind of guy who gets constantly overlooked by women, but would make the most wonderful boyfriend and husband.
Richard frowns in thought as he picks up his file.
“Hey, Lois?”
Lois is typing quickly, eyes never lifting from the screen.
“Yes, honey?”
“Are any of your friends single?”
“I don’t know.” She is curious enough to look away from the screen up at him. “Why do you ask?”
“I was thinking we should set Clark up with someone.”
Across the room, there’s a kafuffle. It’s Clark, tripping over his own wastepaper basket. He waves off Jimmy’s concern, looking flustered.
“No, really. I’m fine. I have to look where I’m going…”
Richard looks back at Lois, who raises an eyebrow at him.
“I thought we agreed never, ever to set up our friends again,” she reminds him. “Or are we forgetting Chloe and Ollie?”
Richard winces. They’re still feeling the fallout of that incident after three years.
“In any case,” Lois continues. “My female friends would eat Clark alive.”
“Ah. Good point.” He forgot about that. Lois doesn’t have a lot of female friends, exactly. More like allies or colleagues that she respects. All are driven women who wouldn’t have the time or patience for a bumbling reporter who gets stuck in revolving doors. “I guess we could–”
“Richard.” She holds up a finger. “Can we talk about this later? Right now I really, really need to finish this article.”
“Of course.”
He goes back to reading his file. Earlier this morning Superman had been caught in a confrontation with some robbers. Somehow or another they’d managed to get hold of kryptonite dust. Their attempt had only been partly successful, as although they’d managed to throw it in his face, he’d only inhaled a little bit and still had plenty of strength left to tie them up for the police. He’d flown away and was presumably recovering somewhere.
It is a scary thought, that everyday criminals can get hold of kryptonite so easily. And yet after an entire island made of kryptonite sprang into being, Richard supposes it’s likely that there are pieces of kryptonite washing up on the shore all over the world. It is a distinctly more dangerous world for Superman than it was six months ago.
Across the room, Clark gives another hacking cough. It doesn’t sound right at all to Richard. He makes up his mind that if Clark doesn’t go home before lunch, he’ll talk to Perry about sending him home. Perry might carry on like a hard-ass but he won’t want all his reporters getting whatever bug Clark has caught.
Suddenly Clark sits up. There’s a look of horror on his face that Richard interprets as ‘I’m going to be sick.’ This is confirmed when Clark rushes out in the direction of the bathroom, miraculously avoiding running into anyone’s desk. Amazing what adrenaline can do for a person.
Lois is frowning after Clark.
“Maybe someone should go see if he’s okay,” she says. Richard has only taken a step in the direction of the bathroom when a news report starts flashing across the TV screens.
“Breaking news at Central Bank. Three armed gunmen have taken an unconfirmed number of hostages and are threatening to – oh, wait. Here’s Superman now.”
The story goes as expected. Superman takes down gunmen, releases hostages, everyone goes home. The only thing out of the ordinary is that the Man of Steel is looking distinctly ill. He’s pale and sweating, and he keeps turning his face to the side to cough. The last time Richard saw him looking this bad, he’d just had a kryptonite shiv shoved in his gut.
“He doesn’t look so good,” Lois murmurs. She’s watching the TV screen where Superman is disappearing into the sky. Richard fights the usual unease that crops up every time she speaks of Superman.
“You saw that too?” He says, trying to keep his voice natural. Perhaps it doesn’t work because she tears her eyes away from the screen to look at him.
“Richard –”
“Maybe I should go check on Clark.”
Clark is just coming out of the bathroom when Richard walks over. He looks worse than before, his clothes and hair rumpled.
“Are you okay?” Richard asks.
“Yeah, I –” Clark wipes his forehead. “I think maybe you were right. Maybe I should go home.”
Richard nods, relieved.
“I’ll give you a lift.”
Clark argues that he doesn’t want to be any bother, but Richard has learned by now how to handle Clark. You allow him to make all the arguments you like whilst shepherding him in the direction you want him to go.
“… that’s nice, Clark. Here’s your coat… you’re absolutely right, watch your step on the elevator… I think so too. My car’s just over this way…”
By the time he’s gotten Clark in the car and is driving to his flat, Clark’s arguments have dried up. He’s more concerned with coughing into his handkerchief. Richard is getting truly concerned.
“You know Clark, maybe you should go to a doctor.”
He’s not surprised by how fast Clark shoots that one down. Mentally he shrugs. He’s gotten the man to take a day off, and that’s pretty incredible with Clark. Clark is a grown man and will go to the hospital if he needs to – well, Richard hopes he will. Sometimes between Jimmy, Clark, Lois, and Jason, he feels like he’s the father of a group of precocious toddlers straining on their leads in different directions.
“Just get some rest,” he says. “Okay? No running out to follow up a lead or anything like that.”
Clark gives that boyscout smile as he gets out of the car.
“Promise.”
Richard, somehow, is not reassured.