Hi Sara!
We also sent my muse a memo that it was to be a SHORT fic.
SARA’s MUSE:
![[Linked Image]](https://cosgan.de/images/smilie/konfus/k045.gif)
Later, when I asked AnnaBtG to BR for me, she asked if I was feeling ill because I'd actually written a short fic. LOL!
After reading down to the summary, I started to wonder if your A/N had to compensate for the story length
Summary: From the creator of Wherever You Will Go...In a world where Clark has stood her up for the last time...A mysterious phone call. An earth-shaking revelation. Beverages. Drinks After Work
Okay, so we have a drunk Lois who drunk-dials Clark and since this is a short fic, does NOT end up in bed with him and then pregnant.
Okay, on to the actual story!
"Let's go for a drink after work," Lois muttered mockingly to herself under her breath even though she was very, very clearly the only one in the newsroom.
Oh boy. She’s taking the entire gang to the bar after work. Translation: she’s gonna hit the dive bar around the corner and get sloshed. (I just stumbled onto Family Law, 2021 TV show)
She might as well be alone, with a boyf—a date...a...partner like...she didn't even want to think his name.
Sounds like Clark isn’t good for her if he makes her want to get sloshed.
Did four dates even count as a relationship yet? Maybe...if he'd stuck around long enough on the last date for them to talk about it.
So, they had something on the third date and then on the forth date, he flaked. Tsk tsk tsk
. He even bragged about his stellar memory.
CLARK: I remember all the women I have ever slept with.
He couldn't possibly have gone through that many suits in two days.
He had gotten *really* scared quite often?
Her computer screen stared brightly at her, a little too bright for her eyes in the dim lighting of the newsroom, and she glared back.
going the extra mile to prove that she was just as good—better, even—than any male journalist out there.
So, she spends most of her waking hours at work to prove she can hold her own against her male colleagues who go home at regular hours so they can have a social life, too. Hmm…
She was slipping lately, though. Not in her work, no. But in doing just fine alone. He'd distracted her, disarming her with that devastating smile of his and unwavering friendship. Why? Why was he wavering now, at the beginning of their relationship?
He managed to soften her up, distract her, and now he can pull ahead of her in his professional career.
The way he kissed her—oh, the way he kissed her—should by all rights leave no room to misinterpret his intentions.
He must be very skilled. Lots of practice. Probably a girl in every city he’d visited.
There was a sharp inhale on the other end of the line, a slight crackling from a poor connection, and then the sound of a deep breath whooshing out. Great. A breather.
Hmmm makes you wonder how many men call Lois at work because her extension doesn’t charge 1.99 per minute.
The apology she'd heard a thousand times was clear as day. "Clark?!"
And then there was a sound like thunder, people screaming, and a man shouting in Chinese in the background just before the line went dead.
Awww, emotional support during a rescue?
least five wires about a 6.3 earthquake and its aftershocks in Beijing and the devastation it was causing.
Oops?
What...where had that thought even come from? It wasn't like Clark had called her from China in the middle of an earthquake. Because that made absolutely zero sense. His dry cleaner was Chinese, right? That made more sense.
/Cocks eyebrow/
So why did her brain insist on repeating such a nonsensical idea?
Corrupted memory address. Probably a buffer overflow that will soon crash her system and she’ll need to reboot. It’s why they invented alcohol for.
Sit and wait. That was really all she could do, wasn't it? She settled herself into the comfort of his couch, pulling the blanket that sat across the back down to cover her legs. She tried distracting herself with the book he'd left on the side table, but her mind wouldn't stop imagining things. Her partner holding up collapsed buildings. Her best friend sifting through rubble...
She could phone the Kents and tell them to send Clark back home where she was waiting, once he was done with the cleanup. They’d assume she knows and implicitly confirm her hypothesis.
The suit, his face, everything was dirty, covered in filth and debris and...she didn't want to think about what else.
Time to take him to the shower, get him out of that filthy suit and under the hot water.
"Go on. Get cleaned up and changed. I'll be here."
Lo-isss! He *told* you he doesn’t know how to do this without you. He needs you to help him.
"You said drinks after work, right?" She tipped her head at the spot next to her on the couch.
And somehow, all his hurt and sadness seemed to vanish when he smiled at her.
Awwwwwwww!
Reading the FDK and having some distance, yeah, okay, those Breather-calls are just Superman on a rescue needing to her voice? Except for those when Clark calls her in the middle of the night because he needs to hear her voice so he can fall asleep? Maybe Superman should have asked her to record something for him and he can wear a tapeplayer with headphones to his rescues.
Do I *need* to state that this was another very enjoyable piece of fiction? Hmm…probably a good idea. Muses are peculiar in that regard.
Michael
