FIC: "Unexpected" (1/1, coda for SV 7.03)
"Unexpected"
coda for 7.03 "Fierce"
sequel to A Little Guidance
She closed the door of her rented car as softly as she could and stood there a moment, watching. It had been entirely too long since she’d seen Clark so happy, so playful.
She thought, momentarily, of the child she’d lost. Clark’s little brother or sister would have been five. That child would have made Clark smile just as easily.
She approached them then, quiet like before, watching Clark and the tall blonde who could only be Kara. They had raked leaves and mounded them and now he was teaching her the fine art of jumping into the piles.
Kara spotted her first and looked like she was about to say something to Clark, but a finger to the lips quieted her and then understanding and recognition lighted her eyes. She said nothing to him. Clark was oblivious to their little non-verbal exchange and continued his lecture: “…not about being graceful or jumping the furthest. It’s about fun-”
“Clark Jerome Kent, what have I told you about making messes of the leaves?”
It was a rare enough occurrence that Martha savored having startled her son. And she hadn’t seen him in what felt like ages - he hadn’t stopped by the previous weekend like he’d originally promised. It was just as well: meeting Kara at home was probably best.
“Mom!” Clark exclaimed in surprise the moment he seemed to have recovered. “What are you doing here?” He was walking towards her as he spoke - a short distance quickly covered with his long, long legs - and he hugged her like he might never let go.
He finally released her after what seemed like forever - not that she minded; she always missed her not-so-little-anymore boy - and then stepped aside to introduce them. “Mom, this is Kara,” he said. “Kara, this is my mom, Martha Kent.”
She noted that the excited awe and wonder that had been in his voice almost two weeks earlier had faded and had in part been replaced by brotherly annoyance. She held back a giggle at that and simply smiled instead. “Hello, Kara. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Kara looked momentarily uncertain - a little confused with the proper etiquette of the situation, maybe? - but finally replied, “It is an honor, Mrs. Kent.”
“Please,” Martha told her as gently as she could, “call me Aunt Martha.”
“Aunt Martha,” the girl confirmed a little hesitantly. Martha took the moment to really take a close look at Kara - realizing that Clark was right; she really looked like she should be his cousin - and realized that she recognized Kara’s clothes.
They were from Martha’s own closet.
“Is that my shirt?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “And pants?”
Kara bristled a little, but Clark answered her quickly. “She doesn’t have anything else to wear, and you’re not using them…”
Martha relaxed. “It’s all right. Those jeans haven’t fit me since college anyway, so please - put them to use. I insist,” she added at Kara’s unsure expression. Good going, Martha. Confuse the poor child even more.
“Thank you, Mrs. - ” Kara corrected herself: “Aunt Martha. Chloe said she would take me shopping, but she is very busy in Metropolis.”
“Well, then,” Martha decided, “let’s try to do that this weekend, Kara.” She glanced over at Clark before continuing in a teasing tone: “I’ve always wanted a daughter to go shopping with. Clark never much cared for it.”
Kara smiled. “I have noticed that he wears the same things every day. At least the colors are good. Red and blue,” she explained, “were the ceremonial colors of the House of El.”
“Ah,” Martha said. That explained a lot. At least he’d always looked good in red and blue, she told herself.
“Now,” she said after a moment, changing the subject, “why don’t we go inside and see what we can throw together for lunch, hm? Kara, is there some food you would like to try for dinner? Something beyond Clark’s skills in the kitchen? We could drive into town and get a few groceries after lunch.”
Kara seemed to have regained her composure and held her head high as she joined Martha in walking to the door. “Kal-El - I am sorry, Clark - has mentioned a favorite meal called ‘beef bourguignon’. Unfortunately, his attempt to prepare it was unsuccessful,” she reported as they reached the door. “Even Lana could not rescue the attempt.”
Martha had been opening the door at the beginning of Kara’s last sentence and the squeak of the hinges made hr think she’d misheard. Surely Kara meant Chloe or Lois, though neither one was especially skilled in the culinary arts, and if Chloe had been so busy in Metropolis, when would she have had time to cook for Clark? “I’m sorry - who?” Martha asked, holding the door as Kara followed her in.
Kara frowned but answered readily. “Lana Lang, Clark’s girlfriend.”
And there was the girl herself, standing near the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands a little nervously and looking strangely repentant for someone supposedly dead and buried. “Hi, Mrs. Kent,” Lana Lang Luthor said.
Martha stopped in her tracks and counted to ten. As evenly as she could, she asked, “How long have you been back, Lana?”
“Since last Friday,” the girl replied.
Last Friday - a week now. That explained a lot. She’d spoken to Clark that Monday; Saturday, he’d called to let her know they wouldn’t be coming to Washington to see her after all. She’d seen the article on the Ledger’s website; Kara had honestly been busy with the Sweet Corn competition.
But now it was clear that that hadn’t been the whole story.
Behind her, Clark caught up with them; she heard the hinges again and the sound of his boots. She could practically hear the moment he realized what had just happened.
“Kara,” Martha finally said, “how good are you at controlling your hearing?”
“It’s still - how do you say it? - a ‘work in progress’, Aunt Martha,” Kara replied dutifully.
“Then I suggest you go for a walk or a run or something and leave the property for a while. It’s going to be very loud for the next twenty minutes or more,” she told Kara in a flat tone of voice.
A gust of wind signaled Kara’s speedy departure. She might have trouble with Earth customs, Martha knew then, but she wasn’t stupid.
Counting to ten again, she turned her attention to Lana. “Lana, you cannot even begin to imagine how disappointed in you I am right now,” Martha said sternly. “Stay put. You’re next.”
Lana had the good sense to dip her head and stare at her feet at the order.
Finally, Martha turned to face her son. He, too, was smart enough to look guilty. “Clark. Barn. Now,” she ordered. He spun around, looking meek and a little frightened, and went back outside.
Following him, Martha could already feel the tension building in her jaw and neck - sure signs of a headache starting. Of all the things she had anticipated - good and bad - for this weekend, this had not even been on her radar.
She sighed. Headache or not, she was going to give her not-so-little-anymore boy a good piece of her mind.
[end]
*icon because Jor-El and Martha agree more often than they realize*
coda for 7.03 "Fierce"
sequel to A Little Guidance
She closed the door of her rented car as softly as she could and stood there a moment, watching. It had been entirely too long since she’d seen Clark so happy, so playful.
She thought, momentarily, of the child she’d lost. Clark’s little brother or sister would have been five. That child would have made Clark smile just as easily.
She approached them then, quiet like before, watching Clark and the tall blonde who could only be Kara. They had raked leaves and mounded them and now he was teaching her the fine art of jumping into the piles.
Kara spotted her first and looked like she was about to say something to Clark, but a finger to the lips quieted her and then understanding and recognition lighted her eyes. She said nothing to him. Clark was oblivious to their little non-verbal exchange and continued his lecture: “…not about being graceful or jumping the furthest. It’s about fun-”
“Clark Jerome Kent, what have I told you about making messes of the leaves?”
It was a rare enough occurrence that Martha savored having startled her son. And she hadn’t seen him in what felt like ages - he hadn’t stopped by the previous weekend like he’d originally promised. It was just as well: meeting Kara at home was probably best.
“Mom!” Clark exclaimed in surprise the moment he seemed to have recovered. “What are you doing here?” He was walking towards her as he spoke - a short distance quickly covered with his long, long legs - and he hugged her like he might never let go.
He finally released her after what seemed like forever - not that she minded; she always missed her not-so-little-anymore boy - and then stepped aside to introduce them. “Mom, this is Kara,” he said. “Kara, this is my mom, Martha Kent.”
She noted that the excited awe and wonder that had been in his voice almost two weeks earlier had faded and had in part been replaced by brotherly annoyance. She held back a giggle at that and simply smiled instead. “Hello, Kara. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Kara looked momentarily uncertain - a little confused with the proper etiquette of the situation, maybe? - but finally replied, “It is an honor, Mrs. Kent.”
“Please,” Martha told her as gently as she could, “call me Aunt Martha.”
“Aunt Martha,” the girl confirmed a little hesitantly. Martha took the moment to really take a close look at Kara - realizing that Clark was right; she really looked like she should be his cousin - and realized that she recognized Kara’s clothes.
They were from Martha’s own closet.
“Is that my shirt?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “And pants?”
Kara bristled a little, but Clark answered her quickly. “She doesn’t have anything else to wear, and you’re not using them…”
Martha relaxed. “It’s all right. Those jeans haven’t fit me since college anyway, so please - put them to use. I insist,” she added at Kara’s unsure expression. Good going, Martha. Confuse the poor child even more.
“Thank you, Mrs. - ” Kara corrected herself: “Aunt Martha. Chloe said she would take me shopping, but she is very busy in Metropolis.”
“Well, then,” Martha decided, “let’s try to do that this weekend, Kara.” She glanced over at Clark before continuing in a teasing tone: “I’ve always wanted a daughter to go shopping with. Clark never much cared for it.”
Kara smiled. “I have noticed that he wears the same things every day. At least the colors are good. Red and blue,” she explained, “were the ceremonial colors of the House of El.”
“Ah,” Martha said. That explained a lot. At least he’d always looked good in red and blue, she told herself.
“Now,” she said after a moment, changing the subject, “why don’t we go inside and see what we can throw together for lunch, hm? Kara, is there some food you would like to try for dinner? Something beyond Clark’s skills in the kitchen? We could drive into town and get a few groceries after lunch.”
Kara seemed to have regained her composure and held her head high as she joined Martha in walking to the door. “Kal-El - I am sorry, Clark - has mentioned a favorite meal called ‘beef bourguignon’. Unfortunately, his attempt to prepare it was unsuccessful,” she reported as they reached the door. “Even Lana could not rescue the attempt.”
Martha had been opening the door at the beginning of Kara’s last sentence and the squeak of the hinges made hr think she’d misheard. Surely Kara meant Chloe or Lois, though neither one was especially skilled in the culinary arts, and if Chloe had been so busy in Metropolis, when would she have had time to cook for Clark? “I’m sorry - who?” Martha asked, holding the door as Kara followed her in.
Kara frowned but answered readily. “Lana Lang, Clark’s girlfriend.”
And there was the girl herself, standing near the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands a little nervously and looking strangely repentant for someone supposedly dead and buried. “Hi, Mrs. Kent,” Lana Lang Luthor said.
Martha stopped in her tracks and counted to ten. As evenly as she could, she asked, “How long have you been back, Lana?”
“Since last Friday,” the girl replied.
Last Friday - a week now. That explained a lot. She’d spoken to Clark that Monday; Saturday, he’d called to let her know they wouldn’t be coming to Washington to see her after all. She’d seen the article on the Ledger’s website; Kara had honestly been busy with the Sweet Corn competition.
But now it was clear that that hadn’t been the whole story.
Behind her, Clark caught up with them; she heard the hinges again and the sound of his boots. She could practically hear the moment he realized what had just happened.
“Kara,” Martha finally said, “how good are you at controlling your hearing?”
“It’s still - how do you say it? - a ‘work in progress’, Aunt Martha,” Kara replied dutifully.
“Then I suggest you go for a walk or a run or something and leave the property for a while. It’s going to be very loud for the next twenty minutes or more,” she told Kara in a flat tone of voice.
A gust of wind signaled Kara’s speedy departure. She might have trouble with Earth customs, Martha knew then, but she wasn’t stupid.
Counting to ten again, she turned her attention to Lana. “Lana, you cannot even begin to imagine how disappointed in you I am right now,” Martha said sternly. “Stay put. You’re next.”
Lana had the good sense to dip her head and stare at her feet at the order.
Finally, Martha turned to face her son. He, too, was smart enough to look guilty. “Clark. Barn. Now,” she ordered. He spun around, looking meek and a little frightened, and went back outside.
Following him, Martha could already feel the tension building in her jaw and neck - sure signs of a headache starting. Of all the things she had anticipated - good and bad - for this weekend, this had not even been on her radar.
She sighed. Headache or not, she was going to give her not-so-little-anymore boy a good piece of her mind.
[end]
*icon because Jor-El and Martha agree more often than they realize*