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The fic ticks bit and here is the result of all the scratching. Pretty much just Clark. No specific cannon, though the klutziness suggests a bit of movie universe. No matter. Enjoy!
Some days Clark envied klutzy people. Not that Clark Kent ever truly envied anybody; his was more of a dispassionate awe. Yet, in as far as he was capable, he did envy the klutzy on occasion. It was the ease of the thing, really. For nearly as long as he had been intentionally separating his two identities to avoid recognition, he had affected some degree of klutziness when he was being Clark. Superman was never a hard role to play, excepting for the occasional bout of better-than-thou that he always quickly quashed when realized. Being Superman was always a matter of doing what needed doing, righting wrongs and all that. The great power equals great responsibility school of thought was what it often boiled down to, often with the deeper values instilled in him by his parents and the good book. Superman did what was right because it was right, and honestly, it was the easier role because it was more often a reactive existence. Bad guy attacks, Superman defeats. Cat stuck in a tree, Superman saves. For all of his powerful work, his work as Superman was one of a self-imposed servant, as, he supposed, it should be with so much power.
Clark's role had its share of reaction too, certainly; every life has a good amount of simply reacting. However, he often found himself amused at just how much effort he had to put into keeping himself separate in the eyes of people who knew him. He was lucky people could be so wonderfully dense when they didn't pay attention. As it was, he always had an inner mental checklist, running in the background, to catch the occasional slip-up. Most things had become second nature, such as the relaxed and slightly bad posture, the more reluctant attitude, and the avoidance of making bold and self-assured comments or opinion. He had almost gotten himself discovered once or twice by forgetting that last one. The notable exception, as always, was Lois. Particularly, trying to keep Lois safe. Girl had an almost death wish and didn't really listen anyway, so his more adamant pleas for her to be more careful never got him in trouble.
Really though, it was Lois's inattention to any detail other than whatever story she was working on that Clark most “envied” when he thought of klutziness. Most people were klutzy because they simply weren't paying attention to their immediate surroundings, be it the desk corner they bump into or the car barreling down towards them. Clark was in awe due to the fact that he could never be unaware, could never allow himself to be, even. He played the klutz because it amused him and because no one would ever connect this bumbler to that Superhero. But in truth, being the the klutz required a lot of effort to pull off, both physically and mentally. For one, it had to look real, which required timing and just the right amount of force. More importantly, he had to be very, very careful to never use to much force and, say, accidentally break a desk in half. Bumping into things, he had to make sure not to send them flying. It was an intricate dance, or so he liked to think of it; and a very subtle dance at that. Like any dance, it had it's high points, but he made sure not to overdo the bumbling except for rare occasions. Over the top bumbling could be amazingly effective for escaping problematic situations. He'd never tell anyone, but it really amused him, so from time to time Clark played the fool to merely enjoy himself. That, and the occasional sardonic comment couched in deadpan or sincerity.
It was the ease that others had in klutziness that had him envious every so often. To be able to forget, or not even notice, what was going on around you instead of having to control every last second of your movement – that was what he sometimes wished for. But such “envy” and awe inevitably ended swiftly for him when he recognized that without his constant attention, Lois, not to mention himself, would be in traction often. Fake traction for himself, obviously, but still... When Lois shifted into story mode she often forgot little things like traffic or which part of the city could get you mugged. Thus he could never truly envy others their inclination for danger, although the awe for the unthinking nature of their klutziness never truly left him completely.
“Yo! Smallville!” interrupts her ever familiar voice into his distant thoughts, “Head out of the clouds, we've got a man to see about a flying horse.”
With the grace above that of even the most professional of tumblers, he leans his chair back in faux (and slightly real) surprise, followed by a quick backwards sprawl. A dancer would weep to see such a beautiful tumble, had any any inclination. He dusts himself off with a quick smirk and just the right amount of embarrassment due from one accustomed to being a klutz.
“Coming Lois.”
He straightens and smooths his jacket and tie as he ambles after the impatiently waiting Miss Lane.
“Did you actually just say a flying horse?”
“I did. If we find it, try not to fall in any piles this time, okay? I don't want another fragrant cab ride home.”
“I fall into one elephant pile...”
The things one resorts to when Superman is required, he thinks. Slipping hands into pockets unrepentantly, he whistles a quiet but jaunty tune as he follows her to the elevators.
Some days Clark envied klutzy people. Not that Clark Kent ever truly envied anybody; his was more of a dispassionate awe. Yet, in as far as he was capable, he did envy the klutzy on occasion. It was the ease of the thing, really. For nearly as long as he had been intentionally separating his two identities to avoid recognition, he had affected some degree of klutziness when he was being Clark. Superman was never a hard role to play, excepting for the occasional bout of better-than-thou that he always quickly quashed when realized. Being Superman was always a matter of doing what needed doing, righting wrongs and all that. The great power equals great responsibility school of thought was what it often boiled down to, often with the deeper values instilled in him by his parents and the good book. Superman did what was right because it was right, and honestly, it was the easier role because it was more often a reactive existence. Bad guy attacks, Superman defeats. Cat stuck in a tree, Superman saves. For all of his powerful work, his work as Superman was one of a self-imposed servant, as, he supposed, it should be with so much power.
Clark's role had its share of reaction too, certainly; every life has a good amount of simply reacting. However, he often found himself amused at just how much effort he had to put into keeping himself separate in the eyes of people who knew him. He was lucky people could be so wonderfully dense when they didn't pay attention. As it was, he always had an inner mental checklist, running in the background, to catch the occasional slip-up. Most things had become second nature, such as the relaxed and slightly bad posture, the more reluctant attitude, and the avoidance of making bold and self-assured comments or opinion. He had almost gotten himself discovered once or twice by forgetting that last one. The notable exception, as always, was Lois. Particularly, trying to keep Lois safe. Girl had an almost death wish and didn't really listen anyway, so his more adamant pleas for her to be more careful never got him in trouble.
Really though, it was Lois's inattention to any detail other than whatever story she was working on that Clark most “envied” when he thought of klutziness. Most people were klutzy because they simply weren't paying attention to their immediate surroundings, be it the desk corner they bump into or the car barreling down towards them. Clark was in awe due to the fact that he could never be unaware, could never allow himself to be, even. He played the klutz because it amused him and because no one would ever connect this bumbler to that Superhero. But in truth, being the the klutz required a lot of effort to pull off, both physically and mentally. For one, it had to look real, which required timing and just the right amount of force. More importantly, he had to be very, very careful to never use to much force and, say, accidentally break a desk in half. Bumping into things, he had to make sure not to send them flying. It was an intricate dance, or so he liked to think of it; and a very subtle dance at that. Like any dance, it had it's high points, but he made sure not to overdo the bumbling except for rare occasions. Over the top bumbling could be amazingly effective for escaping problematic situations. He'd never tell anyone, but it really amused him, so from time to time Clark played the fool to merely enjoy himself. That, and the occasional sardonic comment couched in deadpan or sincerity.
It was the ease that others had in klutziness that had him envious every so often. To be able to forget, or not even notice, what was going on around you instead of having to control every last second of your movement – that was what he sometimes wished for. But such “envy” and awe inevitably ended swiftly for him when he recognized that without his constant attention, Lois, not to mention himself, would be in traction often. Fake traction for himself, obviously, but still... When Lois shifted into story mode she often forgot little things like traffic or which part of the city could get you mugged. Thus he could never truly envy others their inclination for danger, although the awe for the unthinking nature of their klutziness never truly left him completely.
“Yo! Smallville!” interrupts her ever familiar voice into his distant thoughts, “Head out of the clouds, we've got a man to see about a flying horse.”
With the grace above that of even the most professional of tumblers, he leans his chair back in faux (and slightly real) surprise, followed by a quick backwards sprawl. A dancer would weep to see such a beautiful tumble, had any any inclination. He dusts himself off with a quick smirk and just the right amount of embarrassment due from one accustomed to being a klutz.
“Coming Lois.”
He straightens and smooths his jacket and tie as he ambles after the impatiently waiting Miss Lane.
“Did you actually just say a flying horse?”
“I did. If we find it, try not to fall in any piles this time, okay? I don't want another fragrant cab ride home.”
“I fall into one elephant pile...”
The things one resorts to when Superman is required, he thinks. Slipping hands into pockets unrepentantly, he whistles a quiet but jaunty tune as he follows her to the elevators.
