"You're falling down on the job."

"Sue, I—"

"I thought out of all people that you would have scored the interview with Superman—"

"It's only been a week and a half, Sue—"

"That's my point!" Sue contended. She and Kurt were engaged in another one of their verbal sparring sessions. "My spies have informed me that The Metropolis Daily News and The Post have stunts in the works to get his attention. Some are speculating that that hooker he saved last week may have been a journalist."

"She wasn't a journalist and besides, witnesses saw Superman drop her off at the hospital a mere three minutes after he rescued her." Kurt pointed out before fully processing his boss's previous statements. "Wait…you have spies?"

"Of course I do, but we're digressing. So you have yet to get the Superman story, and your explosion story is going nowhere—"

"Not true!" Kurt cut her off. "Remember those missiles that were stolen from that government shipment last week? I'm almost positive they're related."

"Almost isn't good enough Kurt! I need concrete facts! Evidence!"

Kurt hated to admit it, but Sue had a point. "I'm not a machine, Sue."

"Obviously. Remind me why you're my top reporter, Kurt. It'd be such a shame if you went back to writing obituaries."

Kurt stalked out of Sue's office and collapsed on his desk. Sue's words wouldn't have been so frustrating if they weren't actually accurate. Is she right? Am I really losing my edge?

"What's wrong?"

Kurt lifted his head up. This was the first time Blaine had spoken two words to him that weren't "excuse me" or "coffee order" in ten days. "What?"

"I asked you what was wrong," Blaine reiterated himself, a small, sympathetic smile on his face.

"Oh, it's just Sue. She kind of chewed me out in her office just now," Kurt explained warily. Since when has Blaine decided to like me again?

"Why?"

"I've kind of dropped the ball recently. My big exposé is going nowhere fast and she expected me to have nabbed the Superman interview by now," Kurt told him.

Blaine paused to digest the information. "Tell you what, why don't we stay late tonight and I'll help you work on your exposé."

"You'd do that for me?" Kurt queried, astonished until he realized what Blaine was playing at. "Wait, I don't share by-lines."

"I know! I'd just be helping out. You don't even have to give me an 'additional reporting' credit," Blaine assured him.

"Then…I still don't understand you're helping me."

"It's like I said, we Ohio guys have to look out for each other. I'm just happy to help," Blaine's signature dorkiness was returning more with every remark.

"Um, okay thanks," Kurt replied, wariness still mixed in his voice. "That takes care of that. What about Superman?"

"Well, I could always push you in front of a cab or something," Blaine suggested, his tone completely sincere.

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. "No, no, that's okay Blaine. I was just thinking out loud there."

"Oh right," Blaine blushed. "I…I was joking."

"And Blaine?" Kurt said before Blaine could bury himself back in his work. "I just wanted to apologize…for, um, what I said…you know, how I acted toward you last week. You were just being nice and the way I acted wasn't...it was uncalled for."

"Apology accepted, Kurt," Blaine replied, his trademark grin spreading across his lips. "I forgive you."

0-0-0

"Okay, now it's starting to get pathetic how in love he is with you," Mercedes declared.

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. "Might as well use it to my advantage, I really need help on this article."

"You apologized to him, right?" Tina asked. "Kurt Hummel, tell me you apologized to him before you let him sign himself up for slave labor."

"Of course I did!" Kurt snapped, a little offended that Tina had assumed he didn't.

"So you're really going to do it, then?" Mercedes inquired. "You're really going to spend all night alone with him?"

"Yes, Mercedes," Kurt replied exasperatedly. "It's not like he's going to make a move or anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Mercedes retorted. "He did seem pretty ready to forgive you."

"Well that's a risk I'm willing to take," Kurt responded defensively. "I really want this Pulitzer."

Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"Well, it's a shame," Tina interjected, trying to lighten the mood before the two divas started tearing at each other's throats. "We were hoping that you'd come out to dinner with us tonight."

Ugh, an evening of bad sushi and being the fifth wheel, not my ideal dinner situation. Kurt kept his thoughts to himself (again) and simply replied "Next time, I promise."

"Okay, then. See you later, Kurt!" Tina said, pulling a reluctant Mercedes along with her.

"Bye, girls," he muttered.

0-0-0

The next three hours passed by in haze of research, fact-checking, and failed attempts at trying to piece together what the two reporters knew into a semi-coherent explanation for the explosions and stolen missiles. Kurt was impressed by Blaine's professionalism, there had been no flirtatious comments or longing glances so far. In fact, Blaine Anderson had been all business ever since they started. And as much as Kurt didn't want to admit it, it bothered him a little.

Blaine had noticed that Kurt had begun to get fidgety. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, um yeah. I'm just getting hungry." Kurt lied. He wasn't hungry, he just wanted a cigarette…really wanted a cigarette…needed a cigarette.

"Oh! Why didn't you say something?" Blaine replied, his usual perky, blissfully oblivious self. He didn't suspect a thing. "Do you want me to run down to the Mexican place on 43rd and get us something?"

Kurt anxiously gave Blaine his dinner order. As soon as his co-worker disappeared behind the elevator doors, Kurt made a b-line for the roof. By the time he reached it, he already had procured a smoke from the pack and had his lighter in hand. He took a couple paces over to where he usually lit up with Tina and Mercedes. Now all he had to do was click his lighter and…

The lighter wasn't working. Kurt let out an annoyed sigh and tried again. And again. And again. What the fuck is wrong with this lighter?

"You know, you really shouldn't smoke, Mr. Lane."

Kurt froze. He knew that voice. The last time he heard it he was on this very rooftop. This couldn't be real, could it? Was Kurt so desperate for a cigarette that he was hallucinating? Kurt slowly turned in the direction the voice came from.

"Oh my God, it's you."

Superman smiled amusedly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No! I mean, no, you're fine. I was just surprised…I mean, I just wasn't expecting you." Articulate Kurt, very articulate.

"Well, I hate to drop in on you like this," he explained, approaching Kurt. "But I figured that people must have a lot of questions about me."

Kurt stared at him dumbstruck. "So…you're here for an interview?"

Superman nodded, "Only if you're up to it, Mr. Lane."

"I'm definitely up for it! Just let me…" Kurt trailed off to fish his tape recorder out of pocket and pressed record. "So…um…let's start with your vital statistics. Age?"

"Thirty." Only a year older than me, Kurt thought to himself.

"Height?"

"Five-nine."

"Weight?"

"One sixty-five."

"And I take it the rest or your bodily functions are what we'd consider...normal?"

"I beg your pardon?" Superman's brow knitted together in confusion.

Kurt flushed crimson. Gaga, that was a stupid question. "Well—to put it delicately—do you eat?"

"When I'm hungry," he replied coyly.

"And do you sleep?"

"Yes, but I don't need eight hours like everyone else," the superhero explained.

"Right," Kurt responded, trying to think of another question. There was so much he wanted to ask him but of course, every time Kurt's eyes met Superman's golden ones, he forgot his own name, much less appropriate interview questions. "What's your background? Where did you come from?"

"Far away," he told him.

"How far? Something tells me you're not from Ohio," Kurt quipped.

Superman suddenly became very solemn, his playful and diffident attitude fading. "I was born on the planet Krypton. I was sent to Earth as a baby before the planet was destroyed."

"So that would mean you're a…"

"Extraterrestrial, yes." He finished. Superman couldn't help but chuckle at Kurt's gaping expression. "Don't tell me, you were expecting little green men?'

"Honestly, yes," Kurt confessed, laughing a little himself. "But I'm glad you aren't…you know…you don't look like that."

"Thank you," Superman said, flashing Kurt a devastatingly handsome smile that made his knees weak.

"Is there a reason why you're here? I mean, why Earth?" Kurt inquired.

"I'm here to fight for truth, justice, and the American way," he replied resolutely.

Kurt burst into laughter but quickly got a hold of himself after he caught of Superman's surprised and slightly offended expression. "Oh, you're actually serious. Sorry, I just…you know you're going to wind up fighting every elected official in the country, right?"

"I'm sure you really don't mean that, Mr. Lane," Superman said, his voice firm but still tinged with hurt.

"Sorry, I'm just jaded," Kurt hurriedly apologized. "How about we discuss your…abilities instead?"

"Whatever you say, Mr. Lane."

"Okay, well, so far there have been reports that you can fly, possess enhanced strength and speed, are impervious to pain, and can see through solid objects. Is that accurate?"

"Yes," Superman confirmed.

"You can really see through anything?" Kurt questioned, still not totally convinced.

"Just about."

"What color underwear am I wearing?"

"Blue," Superman replied completely unfazed. "I can do card tricks too."

"I'm sorry, that was unprofessional," Kurt apologized again.

"No need to apologize, Mr. Lane," Superman assured him.

Did he just…? No, Kurt, you're reading too much into things. Just ask him another question. "Are there any other powers we should know about?"

"I also have enhanced hearing, super breath, and heat vision," reported Superman.

"That's interesting," Kurt said. Now on to the question everyone was dying to know. "Got a girlfriend?"

"No."

"What about a boyfriend?" Kurt tried to make the question sound like a joke, but it was really just his masochistic inner hopeless romantic trying to cling on to the very slight chance that Superman might actually be—

"If I have a boyfriend, Louis Lane, you'll be the first to know." Superman's reply didn't sound like a joke at all.

Wait, okay, no. Superman did not just flirt with me.

"Got any weaknesses?" Okay, maybe that wasn't the most brilliant question to ask, since Superman probably wouldn't want the world to know how to defeat him, but Kurt was still trying to recover from the second not-flirty remark Superman had made.

"Snarky reporters in perfectly tailored Armani suits," he replied coolly.

Oh Sweet Gaga, Superman's flirting with me. Quick, deflect with a clever comment before the blush spreads to the rest of your face. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Superman asked, slightly troubled. Grilled Cheesus, his confused face is too adorable.

"Every woman in Metropolis's heart breaking," Kurt informed him sharply.

Superman took a step nearer to Kurt, his lips so temptingly close. "Then I guess it'll just have to be our little secret."

This was getting bad. So bad that Kurt was forced to move on to insults to keep from fainting, or worse, closing the distance between their lips. "Well, the fondness for primary colors is inexcusable then, considering the fact that…well, your secret."

Superman laughed. "My apologies, we can't all be as fashionably inclined as yourself, Mr. Lane. But if you must know, I didn't design the costume."

"Who did, then?" Kurt wondered.

"My mother," he replied simply.

"You sound like Blaine," Kurt chortled.

"Who's Blaine?"

"Just some guy I work with," he told him dismissively. "Speaking of which, you don't have a day job, do you?"

"Trust me, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Superman guaranteed, that knee-weakening smile gracing his impossibly handsome features again.

"Not cryptic at all," Kurt sighed sarcastically. 'You wouldn't believe me if I told you?' What's that supposed to mean? He's a fry cook at McDonald's?

"Is there anything else you'd like to know, Mr. Lane?"

Would a dinner at Jean George's be too forward? Naturally,Kurt didn't voice the retort and instead tried to think of some of the main points he'd discussed with Sue. "What does the S on your chest stand for?"

"Family crest," he replied. "It's my Kryptonian family crest."

Kurt nodded in comprehension before another question struck him. "How fast can you fly?"

Superman shrugged. "I'm not sure, I've never actually timed myself," a devious yet inviting smile spread across his plump lips after he replied, however. "Want to find out?"

Kurt stared in shock at Superman's outstretched hand. He wanted to. He really wanted to. He wanted to find out how quickly they could get to Paris, get a room, and then get it on. But Kurt couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt over abandoning Blaine…he'd sacrificed his night to help Kurt and he would be an undeniable asshole if Kurt just left him to go off cavorting with Superman…even if Superman did look so attractive it almost hurt to look at him…

"I…guh." came Kurt's very eloquent response.

"It's okay," Superman reassured him. He didn't seem offended at all. "Some other time, then."

Kurt was only capable of producing a strangled sound that he hoped sounded like assent.

"Until next time, Mr. Lane…" Superman said, nodding his head and beginning to back away.

"You can call me Kurt," he blurted out. So what if he could be fired for disclosing his real name?

"Kurt?"

"Yeah…um, Louis Lane is just my pen name," Kurt explained, the crimson returning to his cheeks.

"Kurt," Superman repeated the name to himself with a content smile. "I like it, it suits you better, anyways. So long, Kurt."

Kurt watched with wide eyes as Superman took off into the night. He ran over to the ledge in a foolish effort to see him go, but the hero was already out of sight. He couldn't help but sigh a little in disappointment. Kurt couldn't be too disappointed though because Superman was GAY. He understood why the hero wanted to keep his sexuality a secret, America was still adjusting to the idea of Superman, and his homosexuality would make him too controversial. Normally that kind of stuff pissed Kurt off, but the fact that Superman wanted Kurt to know he was gay, that he trusted Kurt with his secret, and wanted to act on it, made his closeted-status tolerable. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it…Superman was GAY. Although Kurt didn't believe in religion, he sure as hell believed in karma. This must have been the reason he was so mercilessly picked on from kindergarten to twelfth grade, so that this amazing, truly super man could—

Kurt's thoughts were interrupted by the pressure of a pair of delicious, full lips pressing against his unexpectedly. The lips were immediately accompanied by two strong but gentle hands gripping either side of his face. It took Kurt a few moments to realize what was happening, but once he did, Kurt returned the kiss with everything he had. The liplock didn't last long, Superman pulled away before Kurt could try to slip his tongue into his mouth, but Kurt felt faint, giddy, and feverish all at the same time nonetheless.

They exchanged an intense stare before Superman spoke. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." He winked and then he was gone again just as quickly as he came.

Kurt had to grasp the ledge very tightly so he wouldn't pass out again. He retrieved his tape recorder, which had been unceremoniously dropped to the ground once Superman's lips had collided with his. He hit stop and practically sleep-walked back down to the newsroom.

That kiss…It was if he had never been kissed before. When their lips met, it felt like they had been waiting to kiss each other forever. Damn that sounds sappy, Kurt tried to reprimand himself. At least he hadn't burst into a fit of giggles and shrieks like a teenage girl.

Blaine was waiting for him when Kurt arrived back at their desks. "Kurt, there you are! I got your burrito naked just like you asked."

"That's Blaine, nice."

Blaine stopped and took a good look at his colleague. "Kurt, where exactly did you go?"

"The roof. I needed some air." Kurt told him, still in his dreamy state.

"Air?" Blaine wasn't buying it. "Tell the truth now, were you smoking?"

"Blaine, I can honestly say that I was not smoking," Kurt told him, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay," he replied cautiously. "Are you sure you're alright though? You look flustered."

"Trust me, Blaine, I'm fine."

The two ate their meal, chatting about work and Ohio. Even after half an hour, Kurt still couldn't snap out of his Superman-induced daze. Blaine was cleaning up their dinners when Kurt proposed, "Hey, Blaine? How about we call it a night?"

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah, I feel like I've hit a wall and I think we made some progress on the story," Kurt said, beginning to gather up his things. Blaine followed him soon after and they left The Daily Planet together, just as the night custodial staff was arriving.

"Thanks again for helping out with my article," Kurt told Blaine as they stood outside the doors of the building.

"It was my pleasure, Kurt," Blaine promised.

"Well, see you tomorrow," Kurt said awkwardly. He wasn't going to hug Blaine, but should he offer a handshake? No, that would be the cherry on top this awkward sundae.

"Sure thing!" Blaine chirped before heading uptown.

Kurt then proceeded to skip home, because being a twenty-nine-year-old man be damned, he'd had a really good night.