Lois and Clark Drabbles | Smallville | 12 themes
#1 - Butterflies
#2 - Groceries
#3 - Waves
#4 - Mystery
#5 - Board Games
#6 - Winter
#7 - Sensitive
#8 - Darkness
#9 - Quiet Time
#10 - Kittens
#11 - Trains
#12 - Road trip
# 13 - Gravestone
Mystery (post-Harvest)
Words: 507
Lois pads down the stairs, hair caught up in a skewed knot atop her head, one of Clark’s plaid shirts hanging lopsidedly on one shoulder and unevenly buttoned.
She yawns loudly and widely, and blinks blearily at the sunlight streaming through the windows. She raises her arms to the ceiling and stretches, the creaking of her body stretching and elongating reluctantly makes her grimace. “Oh, god, I need caffeine,” she mutters to herself, “Or maybe a really good chiropractor.”
Muscles and bones she didn’t even know existed were aching; her whole body protesting the acrobatics she put it through the past day-and-a-half. Normally, she’d be complaining if it hadn’t felt so damn good. But it had and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, there were so many unforeseen side benefits to having a super dude for a boyfriend. She’d definitely have to thank someone up there for the joys of superspeed, heat vision, and seemingly inexhaustible Kryptonian energy later.
She left him dozing across the bed, one arm thrown across his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his chest from their most recent bout. Maybe, just maybe, she managed to do the impossible and make The Blur pass out from fatigue. She smirks. He’d put up a good fight but he should’ve known that he couldn’t win a game of ‘who can last the longest’ with her. Lois Lane didn’t know how to lose, and she’d told him the exact same thing before she’d lowered her head to lick at the t -
“Lois, why are you up so early? You never get up before 10AM on a weekend.” His voice is husky, and tinged with a smile.
She turns to face him and grins at the picture he makes--dark red boxers; a cow-lick in his hair, and the disgruntled expression of someone who’s woken up long before they want to. “I wanted to put the coffee on,” she says. “And since you looked like you were down and out for the count, I decided to give you a break and do it myself.”
His eyes travel downwards and linger on the irregular buttons on her shirt. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
She looks down at herself, shuffles slightly on her feet, and snorts, “We all know it looks better on me, Smallville.”
He walks toward her, his eyes trained on the swathe of exposed skin at the tops of her thighs before he comes to a still in front of her. “You also did it up wrong.”
She leans back against the counter behind her and shrugs. He places his hands on either side of her, and she bites her lip.
“Maybe I should help you with them,” he says casually, and raises his gaze to meet hers.
In a split second, she’s thankful that the counter’s behind her because in any other situation her knees would buckle just from the look in his eyes and she’d be a pancake on the floor. How the hell does he do that?
Darkness (future fic, 2011)
Word Count: 208
Clark slapped a hand across her mouth to muffle the keening wail, and hissed, “Lois!” He prayed that no one would hear them.
It was 4PM, Eastern Time, in the Daily Planet bullpen and most journalists were cranking out their stories before the evening edition came out. Since he’d banged theirs out in less than ten minutes, all it had taken was Lois looking at him a certain way over her computer screen and he’d sped them to the fourth floor store room faster than most people could blink.
She glanced up at him heatedly in the dark, and tightened her inner muscles around his cock. He swore, and banged his head on the wall beside her.
The outline of the supply shelf beside them was barely visible in windowless gloom but he didn’t need to see to find his way around her body. He lifted her leg higher along his hip and rocked a little deeper inside her.
She bit his palm and he worried for a second that she’d break her teeth or something. But she didn’t. Instead, she dragged her mouth away and whispered hotly against his lips, “Harder.”
He shut his eyes with a moan, dragged his tongue along hers, and did as asked.
Quiet Time (Abandoned fic, possible spoilers)
Word Count: 125
There is nothing that hurts him more than seeing her cry.
He bites his lip, and draws her into his arms. Her whole body shakes with the force of her tears; he can feel them trickle damply against his shoulder. Her throat lets out raw, scratchy sobs and it cuts him deeply.
He wishes that he could take the pain away. He’s the Blur isn’t he? But this isn’t about burning buildings or bank robberies. He can’t save her that way. In this moment, he’s helpless. She’s hurting and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it, and that kills him.
He looks at the gray static on the television screen, listens to the whining sound it makes -- and holds her in silence.
Waves (future fic, 2018)
Word count: 454
She pushed herself to the front of the pack and held out her hand.
His gaze slid over the assembled journalists, resolute and calm, arms folded across his wide chest before he nodded towards her without even a flicker in his expression.
“Superman, do you have any idea what caused the explosion in the first place?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, Ms. Lane, I can’t be certain but I will be working the Metropolis police and fire departments to get to the bottom of who’s behind this.”
She rushed on, not giving him a chance to pick on another journalist. “It looks like the work of the Suicide Squad, doesn’t it - isn’t this their M.O.?”
His mouth twitched. “I’m afraid we can’t make any assumptions of that nature until we can get a clearer picture. But yes - this is their M.O.”
Before he could move onto the next questioner, she piped up quickly, “So, how long do you think this investigation will take exactly?”
His head cocked to the side and she saw his eyes narrow at the corners as though he were biting back a smile. To almost anyone else, the subtle movements were indiscernible but she knew exactly how to read them and knew that he knew what she really wanted to know was if he’d be home in time for their anniversary dinner. He always made such a fuss about it and this was the first year that she’d made the big plans -- really, it was the first year that she’d remembered without having to set two alarm clocks and three email reminders.
“I believe that we should be finished with this in the next hour or two.”
“Good. You better… because there will be a surprise waiting for you.” She said under her breath, silky with promise, and knew that he’d heard her when he blinked.
“Well, that will be all this afternoon, ladies and gentleman,” he said firmly, smiling in that way of his that made every woman with a pulse hold her breath and most men too. “I’m afraid I have to get back to work as I’m sure the rest of you must. Thank you for coming.”
A murmur of disappointment swept through the crowd and Lois swore she could feel eyes piercing her back in resentment since she’d managed to hog Superman’s attention again.
She watched intently as he rose smoothly into the air. He met her gaze briefly and nodded. She nodded back with a wink; chewing on the tip of her pencil. He’d probably complain about it later, seeing as he always whined about her distracting him from ‘work’ - by merely existing apparently.
He waved at the throng before flying off into the distance.
She smiled.
Road Trip (future fic, 2011)
Word Count: 916
“Turn right here.”
“Wait - are you sure? I’m pretty certain we’re supposed to take Whistler and then a left on Grand Street.”
“Who’s holding the map, Lois?”
“Who’s driving the car, Clark?”
“The only reason you get to drive -”
“Is because we’d like to get to our destination today and that’d be impossible with your granny lane driving?” She said sweetly as she took a right.
“No,” he corrected her. “It’s because you somehow managed to get in the driving seat before I did and removing you from there would have caused a scene.”
“Well, can’t help it if you walk slow, Smallville - you snooze, you lose.”
He ignored her good-natured jibe and the truth of it was he’d been too busy watching her stride purposefully in front of him to bother making a dash for the driver’s seat, “Okay go under the overpass and take a left onto Ormond.”
It was the oldest part of the Slums, a side of Metropolis that not many people bothered to see, let alone care about. He glanced up at rusted telephone poles; every few blocks he’d see a pair of worn sneakers, or a pair of boots tied at the laces; marking gang territory in a language most outsiders didn’t understand. A good chunk of his Blur-time was spent in places like these, spots where even the Metropolis Police Department feared to go.
Dilapidated store fronts with paint-chipped signs and boarded-up windows; they doubled commercial centers for every kind of illegal activity imaginable - drugs, guns, sex. Bloated, water-logged pavements buckled under their own weight, the city council would wait until a drain burst and the lower floors on every building were flooded before they came out to fix it. A couple of dead-eyed men and a few women sat on their stoops, smoking cigarettes, talking slowly, doing nothing. Old fans teetered on window ledges, doing little to unsettle the uncharacteristically muggy spring air.
Every so often they’d see boys and some girls, no older than fifteen or so, who should have been in school, leaning truculently against spray-painted walls. In this part of town, most of them were dressed in dark colors denoting their affiliation - he was thankful that both he and Lois had picked clothes that wouldn’t get them into trouble in a place like this.
No one paid much attention to Lois’ red Mustang - visibly, at least; but he had no doubt that eyes were watching.
Ten minutes later, they finally pulled to a stop behind a building, on a run-down street right at the very outskirts of Metropolis. Lois made sure the car was partially hidden behind a dumpster and they looked around at the neighborhood.
It wasn’t difficult to believe that it might be the home of one of the city’s most prolific criminal organizations. It was the perfect breeding ground for rats, and not just the animal kind.
He shot Lois a look, “We here?”
She nodded. “Yep - surprised you made it alive?”
“With your driving skills, Lois - yes.” he said.
“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, Smallville.”
Lois’ source sent her another text message, “Okay, we’ve got about five minutes till my friend shows.”
“Should we wait inside or out?”
“I told him we’d meet him in the alley, he’s kind of scared to be seen around here with two white people who clearly don’t belong.”
Just as she opened her door, he tugged on her close, and pressed a solid kiss on her mouth. It was brief and to the point, just enough time to swallow the surprised ‘mmph’ she let out; taste her raspberry-flavored lip gloss and breathe in the vanilla bean scent of her, and then he pulled back.
She looked down at his lips. “What was that for?”
“I didn’t get to do it earlier,” he said nonchalantly. “Figured I might as well get it out of the way now or else I’ll keep getting distracted.”
“Distracted, hunh?” Her eyes rose to meet his and her lips spread in a lazy smile. “That’s smart.”
He tilted his head with fake modesty and made to get out the car. She stopped him with a rough yank on his tie and he found his mouth pressed to hers again. This time, she was the aggressor, and like most things with Lois, she didn’t take any half-measures. Her tongue slid out and lapped at the seam of his lips, demanding entrance, and he opened himself up, meeting her somewhere in the middle. Her hand clenched on his chest and he nibbled roughly on her bottom lip, enjoying the sweet taste.
A good four minutes later, she dragged her mouth away from his, panting lightly.
“Hmm - you’re right; I will focus better on the job.”
Clark stared unfocusedly at her mouth, a little dazed. She snapped her fingers, and opened her door, “Now hurry up, Smallville, we’re gonna be late.”
He shook his head to clear it and asked, “Lois, we do have a plan, right?”
She looked at him, “Yep. I’m top banana, you follow my lead and let me do the talking, and try not to give the game away or scare my source. Comprende?”
“How come you always get to be ‘top banana’?”
Lois rolled her eyes, and hopped out of the car with a flounce.
Following suit, he prayed silently: Please, just please, can we not get into any trouble? Please. Just get the story and be on our way? That’s not too much to ask, is it?
Kittens (future fic, 2015)
Word Count: 122
He can’t believe he’s doing this. He also swears that he can hear Lois laughing raucously somewhere in the back of his mind because this - right here - is every bad joke she’s ever told about Superman.
He tried hovering to get at it but that only made the thing scramble deeper into the tree foliage. So now he’s hanging by one hand onto the sturdiest branch, and stretching out with the other to grab hold of it.
“It’s okay,” he says, as soothingly as he can manage, “I’ve got you now…”
The kitten hisses at him; tawny eyes narrowed in affront.
I’m trying to rescue you, you ungrateful furball.
He remembers quite suddenly why he’s always been more of a dog person.
Sensitive
Word Count: 56
His tongue slides against the skin where her earlobe meets her chin. He drifts lower to where her pulse beats furiously at her throat, and tastes her. He can hear her heartbeat ratchet up, the intake of breath, the way she tilts her head a little to grant him access; how her hand tightens on his.
Board Games
Word Count: 273
Lois has always been competitive. It’s part of her nature; engraved in the DNA of every damn Lane that’s ever lived. So, it’s not surprising that when she finds herself losing a game of Checkers to Clark Kent, it pisses her off more than anything.
He’s sitting back in his seat with a smug tilt to his mouth. She can almost hear him smirking.
She folds her mouth into a pinched line, sighs loudly, and glares at the board. Her rapidly diminishing red pieces clumped uselessly in the middle. It’s pretty obvious that he’s going to take this one - the third in a row - and she’s going to be stuck with dog-washing duty for three weekends in a row.
That’s when she decides an alternative strategy’s in order.
She slides her foot out of her bunny slippers and notches her chin in the palm of her hand; the look of studied concentration. She trails her foot up his calf subtly; withdraws; and then she glides just a little bit higher against hard-packed thigh.
He shifts in his seat.
---
The checkers scatter on the floor loudly and she finds herself teetering on the edge of the table with Clark Kent between her thighs and her shirt half undone in less than ten seconds.
“You know I can see through your game right?” he says while his lips drift down the center of her chest and his hands strip off her panties.
“Naturally,” she grins, “You do have X-ray vision, Smallville.” She tugs his mouth back up to hers, hooks her leg around the back of his.
---
They end up washing Shelby together.
Gravestone (Homecoming)
It’s a crisp October morning. Fall’s on the air, and he can see his breath still in a cloud in front of him and slowly dissipate.
He traces each letter in a glance and bites back the lump in his throat.
I’ll never forget.
The words pulse inside of him, around him, and he thinks for a moment that he hears his voice say the words back to him.
He blinks. He turns and walks away.
Butterflies
Her mouth makes him ticklish. He didn’t think he was a ticklish kind of guy - it’s hard to imagine such things when you’re practically made of steel. But Lois’ lips flutter across his chest; she drags a slick tongue over his left nipple and it makes his whole body curl inwards on itself.
He smiles at the ceiling. And silently curses because he promised that he’d stay still for this and let her do what she wants with him. But sitting under those teasing lips, soft skin feathering against his like butterfly wings - is torture.
She wanders lower with a chuckle.
Her hair wisps down to his stomach; her fingers make shallow depressions on his thigh; and her breath is warm and sultry against his cock.
He’s forgotten how to breathe.
“Lois…” he says. He’s begging now.
She grazes her teeth against his hip and he thrusts upwards helplessly.
She looks up at him and reminds him. “It’s called payback, Smallville.”
She knows perfectly well she’s making him suffer. And she doesn’t sound the least bit sorry about it.
Groceries
“Lois, do we really need six flavors of ice cream?” he says, bemused as he watches the lower half of her body sticking out of the freezer at the back of Smallville’s finest grocery store.
“Yes.” Her voice is muffled and she grunts with effort. She’s balanced on one leg while she digs deep to get the Rocky Road stuffed way back in the left bottom corner.
He can’t lie. The view from this angle … is fantastic.
She finally comes out with a little frost melting in her hair and against her cheek, and a triumphant smile. “Ha! Found it.”
He looks quizzically at the two boxes in her hand: one is Rocky Road, and the other is … Raspberry Sorbet.
“Wait, Raspberry Sorbet?”
She tosses both packages in the shopping cart and smirks. “Trust me, Smallville, you’ll thank me later.”
It takes him a second while she walks down the aisle but when he catches on, all he can do is smile and shift awkwardly in suddenly-tight jeans.
Winter (future fic)
Words: 348
Lois sat on the porch swing. In her hands, she held the front-end of the newspaper. She squinted at the small type and wondered when the hell newspapers decided to print things only hawks and Lilliputians could read without giving themselves aneurysms. She should write to someone at the Daily Planet about that - she was pretty sure things hadn’t been this illegible when she’d been their flagship journalist.
She held her right hand out. “Glasses, please?”
Clark snorted and plucked the spectacles off his nose, handing them to his wife. “You know, you should think about getting your eyes checked, Lois.”
She shot him an annoyed look, tossed her silvered hair with a frown. “Why bother getting prescription glasses, when yours work so well, Clarkie?”
Grimacing at the old nickname, he lounged against the swing’s arm, the Sports pages crumpled between his fingers. He closed them with a disgruntled sigh. The Sharks lost yet another football game yesterday. They were barely scraping the bottom of the league and he just knew Oliver wouldn’t let him hear the end of it at the next retired-JLA meeting.
The sun hung low on the horizon and turned everything to dark bronze. Without even trying, he could see the wide expanse of the land he’d grown up on. Ben’s sons and their sons worked most of it now; the rustle of golden wheat in the wind; the lowing of cows out on the back pasture reached his ears. The stubborn wisteria bush, hanging off the edge of the porch rail in a profusion of deep lavender and violet; the swing creaking gently.
He reached for Lois’ hand, the one resting on her thigh while she gripped the paper in her left. She let him, her fingers curling around his. Her skin was soft and slightly papery, webbed wrinkles across the knuckles, just like his. He couldn’t believe, sometimes, just how much time had passed by and here he was; here she was - the two of them together.
Home.
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against them, and heard the smile tug at her mouth; the catch of breath; the familiar sound of her heartbeat hiccupping before resuming its calm pace.
Ha - all these years and I’ve still got it, he thought smugly.
#2 - Groceries
#3 - Waves
#4 - Mystery
#5 - Board Games
#6 - Winter
#7 - Sensitive
#8 - Darkness
#9 - Quiet Time
#10 - Kittens
#11 - Trains
#12 - Road trip
# 13 - Gravestone
Mystery (post-Harvest)
Words: 507
Lois pads down the stairs, hair caught up in a skewed knot atop her head, one of Clark’s plaid shirts hanging lopsidedly on one shoulder and unevenly buttoned.
She yawns loudly and widely, and blinks blearily at the sunlight streaming through the windows. She raises her arms to the ceiling and stretches, the creaking of her body stretching and elongating reluctantly makes her grimace. “Oh, god, I need caffeine,” she mutters to herself, “Or maybe a really good chiropractor.”
Muscles and bones she didn’t even know existed were aching; her whole body protesting the acrobatics she put it through the past day-and-a-half. Normally, she’d be complaining if it hadn’t felt so damn good. But it had and a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, there were so many unforeseen side benefits to having a super dude for a boyfriend. She’d definitely have to thank someone up there for the joys of superspeed, heat vision, and seemingly inexhaustible Kryptonian energy later.
She left him dozing across the bed, one arm thrown across his eyes, the faint sheen of sweat on his chest from their most recent bout. Maybe, just maybe, she managed to do the impossible and make The Blur pass out from fatigue. She smirks. He’d put up a good fight but he should’ve known that he couldn’t win a game of ‘who can last the longest’ with her. Lois Lane didn’t know how to lose, and she’d told him the exact same thing before she’d lowered her head to lick at the t -
“Lois, why are you up so early? You never get up before 10AM on a weekend.” His voice is husky, and tinged with a smile.
She turns to face him and grins at the picture he makes--dark red boxers; a cow-lick in his hair, and the disgruntled expression of someone who’s woken up long before they want to. “I wanted to put the coffee on,” she says. “And since you looked like you were down and out for the count, I decided to give you a break and do it myself.”
His eyes travel downwards and linger on the irregular buttons on her shirt. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
She looks down at herself, shuffles slightly on her feet, and snorts, “We all know it looks better on me, Smallville.”
He walks toward her, his eyes trained on the swathe of exposed skin at the tops of her thighs before he comes to a still in front of her. “You also did it up wrong.”
She leans back against the counter behind her and shrugs. He places his hands on either side of her, and she bites her lip.
“Maybe I should help you with them,” he says casually, and raises his gaze to meet hers.
In a split second, she’s thankful that the counter’s behind her because in any other situation her knees would buckle just from the look in his eyes and she’d be a pancake on the floor. How the hell does he do that?
Darkness (future fic, 2011)
Word Count: 208
Clark slapped a hand across her mouth to muffle the keening wail, and hissed, “Lois!” He prayed that no one would hear them.
It was 4PM, Eastern Time, in the Daily Planet bullpen and most journalists were cranking out their stories before the evening edition came out. Since he’d banged theirs out in less than ten minutes, all it had taken was Lois looking at him a certain way over her computer screen and he’d sped them to the fourth floor store room faster than most people could blink.
She glanced up at him heatedly in the dark, and tightened her inner muscles around his cock. He swore, and banged his head on the wall beside her.
The outline of the supply shelf beside them was barely visible in windowless gloom but he didn’t need to see to find his way around her body. He lifted her leg higher along his hip and rocked a little deeper inside her.
She bit his palm and he worried for a second that she’d break her teeth or something. But she didn’t. Instead, she dragged her mouth away and whispered hotly against his lips, “Harder.”
He shut his eyes with a moan, dragged his tongue along hers, and did as asked.
Quiet Time (Abandoned fic, possible spoilers)
Word Count: 125
There is nothing that hurts him more than seeing her cry.
He bites his lip, and draws her into his arms. Her whole body shakes with the force of her tears; he can feel them trickle damply against his shoulder. Her throat lets out raw, scratchy sobs and it cuts him deeply.
He wishes that he could take the pain away. He’s the Blur isn’t he? But this isn’t about burning buildings or bank robberies. He can’t save her that way. In this moment, he’s helpless. She’s hurting and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it, and that kills him.
He looks at the gray static on the television screen, listens to the whining sound it makes -- and holds her in silence.
Waves (future fic, 2018)
Word count: 454
She pushed herself to the front of the pack and held out her hand.
His gaze slid over the assembled journalists, resolute and calm, arms folded across his wide chest before he nodded towards her without even a flicker in his expression.
“Superman, do you have any idea what caused the explosion in the first place?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, Ms. Lane, I can’t be certain but I will be working the Metropolis police and fire departments to get to the bottom of who’s behind this.”
She rushed on, not giving him a chance to pick on another journalist. “It looks like the work of the Suicide Squad, doesn’t it - isn’t this their M.O.?”
His mouth twitched. “I’m afraid we can’t make any assumptions of that nature until we can get a clearer picture. But yes - this is their M.O.”
Before he could move onto the next questioner, she piped up quickly, “So, how long do you think this investigation will take exactly?”
His head cocked to the side and she saw his eyes narrow at the corners as though he were biting back a smile. To almost anyone else, the subtle movements were indiscernible but she knew exactly how to read them and knew that he knew what she really wanted to know was if he’d be home in time for their anniversary dinner. He always made such a fuss about it and this was the first year that she’d made the big plans -- really, it was the first year that she’d remembered without having to set two alarm clocks and three email reminders.
“I believe that we should be finished with this in the next hour or two.”
“Good. You better… because there will be a surprise waiting for you.” She said under her breath, silky with promise, and knew that he’d heard her when he blinked.
“Well, that will be all this afternoon, ladies and gentleman,” he said firmly, smiling in that way of his that made every woman with a pulse hold her breath and most men too. “I’m afraid I have to get back to work as I’m sure the rest of you must. Thank you for coming.”
A murmur of disappointment swept through the crowd and Lois swore she could feel eyes piercing her back in resentment since she’d managed to hog Superman’s attention again.
She watched intently as he rose smoothly into the air. He met her gaze briefly and nodded. She nodded back with a wink; chewing on the tip of her pencil. He’d probably complain about it later, seeing as he always whined about her distracting him from ‘work’ - by merely existing apparently.
He waved at the throng before flying off into the distance.
She smiled.
Road Trip (future fic, 2011)
Word Count: 916
“Turn right here.”
“Wait - are you sure? I’m pretty certain we’re supposed to take Whistler and then a left on Grand Street.”
“Who’s holding the map, Lois?”
“Who’s driving the car, Clark?”
“The only reason you get to drive -”
“Is because we’d like to get to our destination today and that’d be impossible with your granny lane driving?” She said sweetly as she took a right.
“No,” he corrected her. “It’s because you somehow managed to get in the driving seat before I did and removing you from there would have caused a scene.”
“Well, can’t help it if you walk slow, Smallville - you snooze, you lose.”
He ignored her good-natured jibe and the truth of it was he’d been too busy watching her stride purposefully in front of him to bother making a dash for the driver’s seat, “Okay go under the overpass and take a left onto Ormond.”
It was the oldest part of the Slums, a side of Metropolis that not many people bothered to see, let alone care about. He glanced up at rusted telephone poles; every few blocks he’d see a pair of worn sneakers, or a pair of boots tied at the laces; marking gang territory in a language most outsiders didn’t understand. A good chunk of his Blur-time was spent in places like these, spots where even the Metropolis Police Department feared to go.
Dilapidated store fronts with paint-chipped signs and boarded-up windows; they doubled commercial centers for every kind of illegal activity imaginable - drugs, guns, sex. Bloated, water-logged pavements buckled under their own weight, the city council would wait until a drain burst and the lower floors on every building were flooded before they came out to fix it. A couple of dead-eyed men and a few women sat on their stoops, smoking cigarettes, talking slowly, doing nothing. Old fans teetered on window ledges, doing little to unsettle the uncharacteristically muggy spring air.
Every so often they’d see boys and some girls, no older than fifteen or so, who should have been in school, leaning truculently against spray-painted walls. In this part of town, most of them were dressed in dark colors denoting their affiliation - he was thankful that both he and Lois had picked clothes that wouldn’t get them into trouble in a place like this.
No one paid much attention to Lois’ red Mustang - visibly, at least; but he had no doubt that eyes were watching.
Ten minutes later, they finally pulled to a stop behind a building, on a run-down street right at the very outskirts of Metropolis. Lois made sure the car was partially hidden behind a dumpster and they looked around at the neighborhood.
It wasn’t difficult to believe that it might be the home of one of the city’s most prolific criminal organizations. It was the perfect breeding ground for rats, and not just the animal kind.
He shot Lois a look, “We here?”
She nodded. “Yep - surprised you made it alive?”
“With your driving skills, Lois - yes.” he said.
“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, Smallville.”
Lois’ source sent her another text message, “Okay, we’ve got about five minutes till my friend shows.”
“Should we wait inside or out?”
“I told him we’d meet him in the alley, he’s kind of scared to be seen around here with two white people who clearly don’t belong.”
Just as she opened her door, he tugged on her close, and pressed a solid kiss on her mouth. It was brief and to the point, just enough time to swallow the surprised ‘mmph’ she let out; taste her raspberry-flavored lip gloss and breathe in the vanilla bean scent of her, and then he pulled back.
She looked down at his lips. “What was that for?”
“I didn’t get to do it earlier,” he said nonchalantly. “Figured I might as well get it out of the way now or else I’ll keep getting distracted.”
“Distracted, hunh?” Her eyes rose to meet his and her lips spread in a lazy smile. “That’s smart.”
He tilted his head with fake modesty and made to get out the car. She stopped him with a rough yank on his tie and he found his mouth pressed to hers again. This time, she was the aggressor, and like most things with Lois, she didn’t take any half-measures. Her tongue slid out and lapped at the seam of his lips, demanding entrance, and he opened himself up, meeting her somewhere in the middle. Her hand clenched on his chest and he nibbled roughly on her bottom lip, enjoying the sweet taste.
A good four minutes later, she dragged her mouth away from his, panting lightly.
“Hmm - you’re right; I will focus better on the job.”
Clark stared unfocusedly at her mouth, a little dazed. She snapped her fingers, and opened her door, “Now hurry up, Smallville, we’re gonna be late.”
He shook his head to clear it and asked, “Lois, we do have a plan, right?”
She looked at him, “Yep. I’m top banana, you follow my lead and let me do the talking, and try not to give the game away or scare my source. Comprende?”
“How come you always get to be ‘top banana’?”
Lois rolled her eyes, and hopped out of the car with a flounce.
Following suit, he prayed silently: Please, just please, can we not get into any trouble? Please. Just get the story and be on our way? That’s not too much to ask, is it?
Kittens (future fic, 2015)
Word Count: 122
He can’t believe he’s doing this. He also swears that he can hear Lois laughing raucously somewhere in the back of his mind because this - right here - is every bad joke she’s ever told about Superman.
He tried hovering to get at it but that only made the thing scramble deeper into the tree foliage. So now he’s hanging by one hand onto the sturdiest branch, and stretching out with the other to grab hold of it.
“It’s okay,” he says, as soothingly as he can manage, “I’ve got you now…”
The kitten hisses at him; tawny eyes narrowed in affront.
I’m trying to rescue you, you ungrateful furball.
He remembers quite suddenly why he’s always been more of a dog person.
Sensitive
Word Count: 56
His tongue slides against the skin where her earlobe meets her chin. He drifts lower to where her pulse beats furiously at her throat, and tastes her. He can hear her heartbeat ratchet up, the intake of breath, the way she tilts her head a little to grant him access; how her hand tightens on his.
Board Games
Word Count: 273
Lois has always been competitive. It’s part of her nature; engraved in the DNA of every damn Lane that’s ever lived. So, it’s not surprising that when she finds herself losing a game of Checkers to Clark Kent, it pisses her off more than anything.
He’s sitting back in his seat with a smug tilt to his mouth. She can almost hear him smirking.
She folds her mouth into a pinched line, sighs loudly, and glares at the board. Her rapidly diminishing red pieces clumped uselessly in the middle. It’s pretty obvious that he’s going to take this one - the third in a row - and she’s going to be stuck with dog-washing duty for three weekends in a row.
That’s when she decides an alternative strategy’s in order.
She slides her foot out of her bunny slippers and notches her chin in the palm of her hand; the look of studied concentration. She trails her foot up his calf subtly; withdraws; and then she glides just a little bit higher against hard-packed thigh.
He shifts in his seat.
---
The checkers scatter on the floor loudly and she finds herself teetering on the edge of the table with Clark Kent between her thighs and her shirt half undone in less than ten seconds.
“You know I can see through your game right?” he says while his lips drift down the center of her chest and his hands strip off her panties.
“Naturally,” she grins, “You do have X-ray vision, Smallville.” She tugs his mouth back up to hers, hooks her leg around the back of his.
---
They end up washing Shelby together.
Gravestone (Homecoming)
It’s a crisp October morning. Fall’s on the air, and he can see his breath still in a cloud in front of him and slowly dissipate.
He traces each letter in a glance and bites back the lump in his throat.
I’ll never forget.
The words pulse inside of him, around him, and he thinks for a moment that he hears his voice say the words back to him.
He blinks. He turns and walks away.
Butterflies
Her mouth makes him ticklish. He didn’t think he was a ticklish kind of guy - it’s hard to imagine such things when you’re practically made of steel. But Lois’ lips flutter across his chest; she drags a slick tongue over his left nipple and it makes his whole body curl inwards on itself.
He smiles at the ceiling. And silently curses because he promised that he’d stay still for this and let her do what she wants with him. But sitting under those teasing lips, soft skin feathering against his like butterfly wings - is torture.
She wanders lower with a chuckle.
Her hair wisps down to his stomach; her fingers make shallow depressions on his thigh; and her breath is warm and sultry against his cock.
He’s forgotten how to breathe.
“Lois…” he says. He’s begging now.
She grazes her teeth against his hip and he thrusts upwards helplessly.
She looks up at him and reminds him. “It’s called payback, Smallville.”
She knows perfectly well she’s making him suffer. And she doesn’t sound the least bit sorry about it.
Groceries
“Lois, do we really need six flavors of ice cream?” he says, bemused as he watches the lower half of her body sticking out of the freezer at the back of Smallville’s finest grocery store.
“Yes.” Her voice is muffled and she grunts with effort. She’s balanced on one leg while she digs deep to get the Rocky Road stuffed way back in the left bottom corner.
He can’t lie. The view from this angle … is fantastic.
She finally comes out with a little frost melting in her hair and against her cheek, and a triumphant smile. “Ha! Found it.”
He looks quizzically at the two boxes in her hand: one is Rocky Road, and the other is … Raspberry Sorbet.
“Wait, Raspberry Sorbet?”
She tosses both packages in the shopping cart and smirks. “Trust me, Smallville, you’ll thank me later.”
It takes him a second while she walks down the aisle but when he catches on, all he can do is smile and shift awkwardly in suddenly-tight jeans.
Winter (future fic)
Words: 348
Lois sat on the porch swing. In her hands, she held the front-end of the newspaper. She squinted at the small type and wondered when the hell newspapers decided to print things only hawks and Lilliputians could read without giving themselves aneurysms. She should write to someone at the Daily Planet about that - she was pretty sure things hadn’t been this illegible when she’d been their flagship journalist.
She held her right hand out. “Glasses, please?”
Clark snorted and plucked the spectacles off his nose, handing them to his wife. “You know, you should think about getting your eyes checked, Lois.”
She shot him an annoyed look, tossed her silvered hair with a frown. “Why bother getting prescription glasses, when yours work so well, Clarkie?”
Grimacing at the old nickname, he lounged against the swing’s arm, the Sports pages crumpled between his fingers. He closed them with a disgruntled sigh. The Sharks lost yet another football game yesterday. They were barely scraping the bottom of the league and he just knew Oliver wouldn’t let him hear the end of it at the next retired-JLA meeting.
The sun hung low on the horizon and turned everything to dark bronze. Without even trying, he could see the wide expanse of the land he’d grown up on. Ben’s sons and their sons worked most of it now; the rustle of golden wheat in the wind; the lowing of cows out on the back pasture reached his ears. The stubborn wisteria bush, hanging off the edge of the porch rail in a profusion of deep lavender and violet; the swing creaking gently.
He reached for Lois’ hand, the one resting on her thigh while she gripped the paper in her left. She let him, her fingers curling around his. Her skin was soft and slightly papery, webbed wrinkles across the knuckles, just like his. He couldn’t believe, sometimes, just how much time had passed by and here he was; here she was - the two of them together.
Home.
He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against them, and heard the smile tug at her mouth; the catch of breath; the familiar sound of her heartbeat hiccupping before resuming its calm pace.
Ha - all these years and I’ve still got it, he thought smugly.