A/N: I'm so sorry about how I've been updating, I'm terrible. I kind of drifted right away from writing and reading fan fiction but in my typical style, I've spent this morning finishing off this chapter instead of writing an essay for uni. I hope you're still interested in this fic, despite the massive break between chapters. Thanks so much for your reviews, you're all very lovely. This chappie isn't exactly G rated so if you're a youngen, turn away! Hope you enjoy it.

In Arms of Red and Blue

By katemary77

Summary: Superman saves a girl, stays for a cupcake and gets more than he bargained for.

"So how was work today?"

Clark sighed and took another bite of lamb masala. "It was alright." He and Margaret were sharing dinner at a tiny (but lovely) Indian restaurant. "Mr. White has Lois and me working together on the election campaign."

Margaret noticed the un-enthusiasm in his voice and commented, "You don't seem to enjoy working with Lois too much."

Clark shrugged. This was true, of course. Years ago, Clark would've relished an opportunity to be close to Lois Lane and would've have let her snarkiness and harsh comments just roll off him, but these days he found it more and more difficult to put up with her.

"She can be a little trying."

Margaret grinned and took another sip of her wine.

"So how come you don't work?" Clark asked, "I've never heard you mention a part time job, except for your stall at the markets."

"Well, my family's, uh, pretty well off," Margaret confessed, a little embarrassed. "When I was doing my art degree I had to support myself, but now that I'm doing something 'proper'…" She rolled her eyes. "Well, now my dad has no problem supporting me."

"So you and your father don't get on very well?"

"Most of the time, we do. I just think he's a bit of a snob, sometimes."

Clark smiled and was about to ask her more about her family when he heard – off in the distance somewhere – the sounds of screams and roaring flames.

"Would you excuse me for just a moment?"

"Sure," Margaret smiled.

As he stood to walk towards the bathroom, Clark swooped and kissed her at the corner of her mouth. She grinned as he left and fiddled a little with her napkin.

After a few minutes, Margaret frowned; Clark had been in the bathroom for a while. Another few minutes went by and now Margaret was really confused. When she looked over in the direction Clark had gone, however, she saw he was standing with his back to her, mobile phone pressed to his ear. As if he sensed her stare, he turned and waved, miming 'I'm sorry' and pointing at the phone. She smiled.

"Sorry about that," Clark said when he eventually returned to the table. "It was my mum."

"No worries," Margaret replied. "Is anything wrong?"

Clark shook his head; "Not at all, she just likes to check in."

Half an hour later, Clark was walking Margaret home to her apartment. Her arm was tucked through his and as she pressed against his side, Margaret felt tingles shoot through her body from the contact.

"Come in," she said as they approached her door. "Have some coffee or something."

As Margaret busied her hands with the coffee plunger, Clark took a hesitant step towards her, placing his hands upon her shoulders. Emboldened when she turned under his arms, he swooped down and pressed a passionate kiss on her mouth. Margaret's hands slid to his chest and he buried his own in her thick hair, cradling her head as she opened up underneath him.

Swiftly, Clark lifted her up onto the kitchen bench and moved in between her legs, pulling her as close as he could to himself. He was gentle, though, always aware that one wrong move could hurt her. When one of Clark's roaming hands brushed against her breast, Margaret gasped into his mouth and they broke away from each other.

"I'm sorry, was I – "

Margaret shook her head and kissed him very softly, very deliberately, on his bottom lip.

"You don't have to go home tonight."

Clark felt a warmth pool deep in his heart.

"Are you sure?"

She didn't even hesitate. Margaret slid from the bench and took his hands, leading him into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Slowly, her trembling hands moved to his neck and loosened his tie before undoing his shirt button by button. Clark stood still and watched her. Her hair was mussed, no doubt from the fingers he had combed through it, and there was a pink blush on her cheeks. Her pale blue eyes were focussed entirely on what she was doing and Clark wondered if perhaps she was too nervous to look at him directly.

Finally, she was done and she slid Clark's shirt off his shoulders, letting it crumple to the floor. Margaret let a hand run the length of his torso. She looked up at him.

"You're beautiful."

Clark's large hands captured her face, before sliding down her body to the hem of her dress, which he lifted easily. Wrapping his hands around her bare waist, Clark picked her up and moved them both to the bed.

"So are you."

--

Margaret had never felt so content. After a night spent making love with the man she was pretty sure she was falling head over heels for, drifting to sleep across his broad, beautiful chest and snuggled in his strong arms was the safest she'd ever felt, even in the red and blue arms of a superhero. At one point in the night, a noise outside on the street had woken her and she'd been sure Clark was gone. She'd closed her eyes, telling herself he was probably just in the bathroom or the kitchen, and a second later she'd felt his warms hands take her by her shoulders and settle her against him again. She'd smiled.

Now, though, with sunlight streaming in from the curtains she was sure she'd closed, Margaret knew Clark was no longer beside her. Grudgingly opening her eyes, she looked across at the bed. It was empty, the right side even made. She felt a dollop of dread sink into her stomach. Clark wasn't like that, was he? Margaret shook her head fiercely; of course he wasn't. He probably just had to go to work. Though she'd found a reasonable explanation, Margaret still felt a little upset and a little silly for feeling that way as well. She'd been looking forward to waking up beside him.

Suddenly, there was a rather loud bang in the kitchen. Margaret frowned and sat up in bed. Shortly after, a large figure appeared in her bedroom doorway.

"Clark!"

His face split into a huge grin. So did hers.

"Good morning, Margaret. I hope I didn't wake you."

She shook her head and hopped out of bed, a sheet wrapped around her body, and threw herself into his arms.

"I thought you'd gone," she murmured.

Clark shook his head and held her close, dipping his head to kiss her swiftly.

"I did go, but just to get breakfast. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, starving actually," Margaret replied, "Let me just get dressed."

A minute later, Margaret joined Clark in the kitchen and felt her jaw drop.

"Where did you get all this from?"

Across the table were brown paper bags brimming with pastries and a long French bread stick.

"A little bakery I know. Here." Clark handed her a styrofoam cup of coffee. She took a sip.

"Good coffee."

"Try one of the pastries."

Peeking into each bag, she finally selected a cherry Danish and bit in.

"Oh my god," she mumbled through her mouthful. "This is divine!"

Clark grinned again and quickly finished of a croissant.

"You have to take me to this bakery sometime, Clark." He nodded. "Are you going to work soon?" she asked, noticing his attire.

Clark brushed a hand over his three-piece.

"Yeah, I should leave now, actually. I told them I'd be a little late."

Nodding, Margaret set her coffee down and leaned into him for a deep, lingering kiss. "Dinner tonight?" she asked, a little unsure.

"I'd love to. How about that Italian place on the corner of Fifth and Edward Street?"

"Okay, I'll meet you there at seven."

Clark wrapped his hands around her waist and kissed her again.

"See you later. Enjoy your breakfast."

Fifteen minutes later, Margaret was still grinning ear to ear as she cleaned up the remains of her breakfast. Turning the paper bag over in her hand, Margaret read the address of the shop, intent on visiting the bakery herself.

"89, Rue de Rennes. What?"

That was strange. A French address? Margaret shrugged. Maybe the owners were homesick ex-pats who'd injected a little French charm into their shop. Scrunching the bag into a ball, she threw it in the bin.

--

Margaret had decided later that morning that with semester starting in six weeks, she'd had just about enough fun and it was time to get some study in. With that in mind, she'd lost herself in Metropolis University Library and read the day away, immersed in medical books. She knew that reading ahead for her next year at MU wasn't entirely necessary – in fact, it was rather difficult, she hardly understood the words on the page – but Margaret was determined to prove that she belonged in the medical profession, not only to her professors and her family but to herself as well.

Suddenly aware of the dimming light outside, Margaret checked her watch and cursed. She was meeting Clark in an hour. Hurrying to the counter, she checked out her books – ignoring the raised eyebrow of the librarian at the sheer size of some of them – and then struggled out the door and into a cab.

"246 Olivier Street, please."

"Sure thing," the driver replied.

"I'm in a bit of a rush so if you know any shortcuts that'd be great," she added, with an imploring smile.

The cabbie smiled back at her in the rear vision mirror and turned into a side street.

"Big date or something?"

Margaret grinned, "Something like that."

They chatted aimlessly for a few minutes before the car pulled up to the curb.

"Here you go."

"Wow, that really was a shortcut. Here, keep the change." She gave him a twenty, a bright smile and slipped out of the cab, hauling her medical books into her building.

Thirty minutes later, Margaret was assessing herself in the mirror. She'd changed into a navy blue dress that fell just passed her knees. It was short sleeved with a deep V neck and a cinch around her waist, from which the skirt fell, folds of material in an A-line cut. She paired a cream cardigan with cream round-toe heels and had pinned her favourite pair of pearl studs on her earlobes.

"Very fifties," she mumbled and brushed a hand through her hair.

She was two blocks from the restaurant when her mobile rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi Margaret, it's Clark."

He sounded a little down, so she asked him, "Is something wrong?"

"I'm running a little late. Perry wants our article for the Saturday paper so Lois and I need to finish it tonight. You sound like you're on the street?"

"Yeah, I'm on Fifth Avenue, just a couple of blocks away from the restaurant."

"Come up to the Planet, then. We shouldn't be too long. I don't want you sitting in the restaurant by yourself."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, you know the way?"

She nodded and then remembered he couldn't see her.

"Yep, it's hard to miss the big globe on top of the building."

Clark chuckled.

"I'm on the sixty-fifth floor. See you soon?"

"Yep."

Only a little bit nervous, Margaret turned around and walked a block in the opposite direction towards the huge building that housed the Daily Planet. Pushing through the revolving doors, she smiled at security and made her way towards the elevators. The lobby was almost empty. Most of the Planet's workers must have returned home, she thought. Shortly, the elevator doors dinged open and Margaret found herself looking at what Clark had called the bullpen, an open-plan mess of desks, coffee percolators and paper. It was completely empty.

"Um…"

Something tugged on her skirt.

"Are you Margaret?"

She looked down at a young boy with wide blue eyes.

"Yes I am."

"I'm Jason," the boy said, holding out a small hand which Margaret shook. "Mr. Clark asked me to tell you that he and Mummy had to go into a meeting and that you can wait at his desk. He said he won't be long."

Mummy? Margaret pondered, confused. Wasn't Clark working with Lois?

"Oh."

Lois Lane has a son?!

"Oh," she said again. "Which one is Clark's desk?"

The boy pointed.

"Thank you, Jason."

Margaret kept her eyes focused on where Jason had pointed so as not to lose her way in the maze of desks which made up the bullpen. Because of this, she didn't notice the stack of outdated Daily Planets in her way and – aided by her two-inch heels – tripped marvellously. Instinctively she threw out an arm to brace herself against the floor but before she could touch the carpet, a hand grasped hers and pulled her upright. The fluid response and the strength of the hand that balanced her almost had Margaret expecting to see a wide, 'S' covered chest. Instead, once she gained her senses, Margaret's eyes fell upon the wide-eyed, surprised face of Jason.

"Oh my."

Margaret bolted. She'd sign a bathroom sign on the way into the office and fled into the lady's loo. Once there, she hunched over the sink and hyperventilated. He couldn't be; he couldn't be! But there was no mistaking that strength, those instincts, those deep blue eyes.

Superman had a son.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Not sure when the next one will be updated. Just as a sidenote, I know some of you might point out that Clark usually has his Superman suit underneath his three-piece and Margaret obviously didn't find it. I tried to figure a way to get Clark out of the suit before she undresses him but it always seemed a little awkward, not to mention mood-ruining, so I guess maybe Clark has been thinking he might spend the night sometime soon and so was prepared. Thanks for reading!