Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Advent Calendar for FoLCs

Lois shuffled into the living room. She’d fallen asleep, waiting for Clark to come home. But when she woke up his side was empty and cold.

It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up alone and she usually didn’t mind. But today, she felt an ache she couldn’t shake, a wish that he’d been there when she opened her eyes.

She pulled her robe tighter against the lingering chill. Clark loved Christmas, the lights, the music, the traditions. Lois struggled to feel the same - not for herself but out of fear she would ruin it for Clark some day.

Her parents’ fights over Christmas dinner, the deafening silence after their divorce and later, the endless parade of commercials promising a happiness that never seemed to come - it was hard to believe in any of it. Even now, she wasn’t sure if the ache she felt came from the past or from missing Clark beside her.

Maybe both.

Rubbing her arms for warmth, she headed toward the kitchen. The faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air, a reminder of Saturday evening, when Clark had insisted they start decorating. She’d humored him, but the cheer he was so determined to create had barely scratched the surface.

She stopped short when her eyes landed on the small table by the window. Something hadn’t been there yesterday: a basket filled with numbered bags, each intricately painted with festive scenes.

Clark emerged from the kitchen, with two cups of coffee, pausing as his eyes settled on her. His expression softened, the brightness in his greeting tempered by quiet concern. “Good morning! Sleep okay?”

“Morning.“ Lois raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the table. “What’s this?”

Clark crossed the room, his excitement evident. “It’s an Advent calendar. I thought we could start a little tradition this year.”

Lois sighed, sinking onto the couch. “Clark, you know I’m not exactly Mrs. Christmas Spirit. Why bother?”

He stepped closer, his voice soft and steady. “I know how Christmas hasn’t always been kind to you. And I get it. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

She glanced at the basket, curiosity fighting with her lingering frustration. “And what’s in these?”

Clark smiled and handed her the basket. “Look for number one and open it.”

She rifled through the bags, quickly finding the first one. Pulling it open, she retrieved a small green ornament shaped like a cucumber. She held it up, her brow furrowed. “A cucumber? Seriously? Who puts a cucumber on their Christmas tree?”

Clark chuckled, holding her gaze as if hoping to spark a flicker of amusement. “The Germans, apparently. Well, sort of - this might be more of an American-German thing. It’s called the Weihnachtsgurke . It’s hidden in the tree and whoever finds it first gets to open the first present.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “With just the two of us, that’s not much of a contest. And let’s be honest, Clark, you’d win without even trying.”

“I’ll play fair, I promise,” Clark said, grinning. “Besides, it’ll be more fun when our parents join us.”

Lois rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine.”

Clark’s expression softened. “Advent calendars mark the days leading up to Christmas. It is a way to build anticipation. Each door - or in this case, each bag - has a little surprise.”

Lois sighed. “And today’s surprise is a cucumber.”

Clark laughed. “Today’s about starting small. I thought we could bake together after work.”

Lois groaned. “You know I’m a kitchen disaster, right? Remember that time I tried to make brownies and almost burned down my apartment?”

Clark leaned in, his eyes soft with affection. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll do it together. And if necessary, I’ll fly to Germany and buy some for you.”

That drew a reluctant laugh from her. “Fine, but if this goes south, you’re cleaning up the mess.”

---

After work they immediately started their task and later, the kitchen smelled like a christmas market. Plates of Lebkuchen, Zimtsterne and Vanillekipferl were spread across the counter, filling the air with the warm, spicy scent of holiday cheer.

Lois stood by the stove, eyeing the last batch of cookies, reaching for a Vanillekipferl. As she took a cautious bite Clark glanced up. “Careful, those are still warm.”

Lois smirked as she waved the half-eaten cookie in his direction. “You think I can’t handle a little heat, Kent?”

Clark chuckled, moving to her side. “Fair enough. So, how do they taste?”

She took another bite, savoring the delicate almond flavor and buttery texture. “Not bad for someone who doesn’t usually bake. I’d even say… edible.”

His eyes sparkling with amusement. “Think we made enough?”

Lois glanced at the mountain of cookies and raised an eyebrow. “Considering we’re not feeding the entire Daily Planet, I’d say we’re set.”

Clark laughed, leaning against the counter beside her. “But you’ll share with me?”

Lois’s smirk softened into a smile as she looked at the spread. “That depends,” she teased, “are you on Santa’s ‘nice’ list?”

He shrugged, his expression warm. “You’re the one to ask. I saw you eyeing the basket earlier - Santa won’t approve if you peek ahead.”

Later, as they curled up on the couch under a blanket, Lois found herself relaxing against Clark. The scent of cookies lingered in the air and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights cast warm patterns on the walls.

Clark kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for indulging me today.”

Lois tilted her head to look at him, her smirk fading into a warm smile. “I guess I could get used to this… but don’t push your luck, farm-boy.”

His eyes twinkled as he kissed her forehead. “One day at a time.”

Lois found herself humming a Christmas tune and deep inside, she felt a flicker of the joy Clark had been trying to share.

The next morning, Lois awoke to find Clark still lying beside her. Warmth spread through her chest as she watched him, his features relaxed and peaceful in the early light. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly across his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and a soft, amused smile tugged at his lips.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice rich and warm. He pulled her close, wrapping her in the kind of embrace that made her feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

Lois smiled against his chest, her thoughts drifting back to the previous evening. Clark’s advent idea had been just what she needed. Baking cookies together had turned into a surprisingly fun activity, with flour dusting Clark’s hair like snow and her laughter echoing through the kitchen. It had been messy and imperfect, but it had felt real, full of the kind of joy she didn’t often associate with Christmas.

This morning, though, she was grateful for the simple gift of waking up with him still by her side.

Later - after lingering far longer than they should have in the warmth of each other’s arms - they scrambled to get ready for work. As Lois walked into the living room, she paused by the basket with the numbered bags. Clark was already in the kitchen, the sounds of breakfast preparations drifting through the air.

She quickly located today’s bag, untying the ribbon with a hint of anticipation. Shaking the bag gently, she jumped and let out a little shriek when a small glass ornament, shaped like a spider fell into her hand. She held it up, one eyebrow arching in disbelief.

“A spider?”

Clark stepped into the room, carrying two cups of coffee and grinning as he saw the ornament in her hand. “I see you already opened today’s bag. And yes, a spider. There’s a story behind it.”

Lois eyed the spider skeptically but allowed herself to be intrigued. “You’ve got my attention. What’s the deal with the creepy-crawly?”

Clark set the cups down and opened a nearby box, revealing shimmering silver and gold spider web decorations. “This tradition comes from Ukraine. According to legend, a poor widow and her children couldn’t afford to decorate their Christmas tree. On Christmas Eve, spiders spun intricate webs all over the branches. When the family woke up, sunlight streaming through the window turned the webs into gold and silver, making the tree beautiful and filling them with joy.”

Lois tilted her head, her initial skepticism softening. “That’s… actually kind of sweet.” She studied the spider ornament in her hand, its delicate details catching the light.

“I thought we’d make today a little extra special. First, I made some kutia, a traditional Ukrainian dish. It’s made with wheat, honey, berries, poppy seeds and nuts. It symbolizes unity and abundance.”

Lois followed him into the kitchen, where the table was already set with bowls of the hearty dish. She took a cautious bite, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“This is… really good,” she admitted, savoring the mix of flavors. She shot him a teasing glance. “You’re full of surprises, Mr. Kent. It reminds me of why I married you.”

Clark grinned as he started with his own bowl. “You married me for my cooking skills, obviously.”

“Well, those are definitely a perk,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Though I seem to recall you advertising other talents - flying, lifting heavy things, cleaning the house at superspeed...”

“True,” Clark replied, his grin widening. “But most of those don’t really help in the kitchen.”

“Exactly,” she quipped. “The only thing you’re lifting in here is my opinion of breakfast food. And, let’s be honest, you’re also saving me from my own cooking disasters.”

Clark laughed, giving her a mock bow. “Always happy to be your culinary superhero. But breakfast is just the start. After work, I thought we could do something inspired by today’s story.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess - spinning webs?”

“Close,” he said, his voice softening. “Mom and her friends in Smallville knitted some scarves, gloves and blankets. I thought we could deliver them to the shelter. It’s a small way to weave a little warmth and hope into someone else’s life, like the spiders did for the widow.”

Lois paused, her expression softening as she looked at him. “I like that,” she said, her voice quiet but warm.

With that Clark cleaned the kitchen in superspeed before flying both of them to work.

---

Later that evening, after their trip to the shelter, Lois and Clark returned home. The memory of grateful smiles stayed with her as they placed the empty donation bags by the door.

Lois lingered by the Christmas tree, her eyes on the spider web decorations now draped across the branches. They shimmered in the soft light.

“You know,” she said quietly, “there’s something comforting about this story. It’s like… no matter how hopeless things feel, there’s always a chance for something beautiful to surprise you.”

Clark came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That’s what I love about Christmas,” he said, his voice low and warm. “It’s not just about what we give or get. It’s about noticing the beauty in the small, unexpected things.”

Lois leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “For showing me that.”

Clark kissed the top of her head. “Always.”

Together, they stood in the glow of the tree, the spiderwebs shimmering like spun gold. And for the first time, Lois felt the stirrings of a quieter, simpler kind of Christmas magic, one that reminded her of the joy found in unexpected places.

Lois woke up shivering. The other side of the bed was empty again, the covers cool to the touch. Clark had been called away hours ago to deal with the aftermath of a severe snowstorm.

She pulled on a cozy robe and padded to the window. Outside, the city was wrapped in a thick white blanket, the soft snowfall transforming everything into a scene straight out of a Christmas card. She sighed, already missing Clarks warmth, before heading downstairs.

In the living room, the Advent basket sat waiting, each bag tied neatly with its ribbon. Lois hesitated, her hand hovering over it. Clark had been the one to introduce this new tradition, filling each bag with thought and care. Opening it without him didn’t feel right.

With a sigh, she left the bag untouched and went to get ready for work. As she slipped on her coat and grabbed her keys, she glanced once more at the basket, silently hoping Clark would make it back in time to share the tradition later.

---

Clark finally joined her at the Planet just before the morning staff meeting. He looked worn, his shoulders heavy, his expression distant.

“Was it bad?” Lois whispered after greeting him with a quick kiss.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “It was... Let’s talk about it later.”

Before she could press further, Perry’s booming voice summoned them all to the conference room. During the meeting, Lois held Clark’s hand under the table, gently squeezing it now and then, offering quiet support. She whispered small comments to him whenever Perry wasn’t looking, trying to lighten his mood.

During a pause in the meeting, she leaned closer. “I waited with the calendar, so you can watch me open it.”

That earned her a faint smile, the first she’d seen from him all morning. She realized then that this new tradition wasn’t just bringing her joy, it meant just as much to Clark.

---

Later, when they returned home, Lois quickly found the right bag, while Clark disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned he handed her a glass of something a few minutes later. The liquid smelled of raspberries and spices, Clark smiled, the weariness in his eyes fading. “This is called Julebrus, a soft drink from today’s country.”

Lois took a sip, the tart sweetness surprising her. “I like this,” she said, her eyes flicking back to him. “And I like seeing you relax again. Tough night?”

Clark nodded. “It wasn’t the rescues themselves. People were scared and upset - and some blamed me for not getting to them faster.”

She sighed, her hand resting on his. “Unfortunately, the weeks before Christmas tend to bring out people’s stress. But you helped, Clark. You always do.” She kissed him tenderly.

“Thank you, honey.” His expression softened and he gestured to the bag. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Lois untied the ribbon. Inside, she found a small wooden bird ornament. She turned it over in her hands, admiring its simplicity. “Okay, what’s today’s tradition? Something bird-related, I’m guessing?”

“You’re right,” he said, his voice warm. “Today’s tradition is from Norway. It’s called Julenek. Every Christmas, Norwegians tie a sheaf of grain, like this one, to a tree or pole outside their homes. It’s meant to feed the birds during the harsh winter and symbolizes kindness and care for all creatures.”

Lois smiled, touched by the idea. “That’s really sweet. So even the birds get to celebrate Christmas?”

“Exactly,” Clark said. “It’s about finding small ways to help, no matter how insignificant they might seem. And it’s a reminder that even in the coldest times, we can spread warmth.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “Do we get to make one ourselves?”

Clark grinned and revealed a bundle of wheat, neatly tied with a red ribbon. “Already prepared. I thought we could hang it outside together. And I set up a few more feeders around the neighborhood earlier this morning while I was out. It’s not just for the birds, either, it’s a way to spread a little joy to anyone who passes by and sees them.”

They stepped into the snowy yard together, carrying the sheaf. The cold air bit at Lois’ cheeks, but the sight of the pristine snow and twinkling lights from their neighbors’ houses felt almost magical. They tied the wheat sheaf to a pole, the red ribbon standing out like a cheerful burst of color.

As Clark stepped back to admire their work, Lois scooped up a handful of snow, forming it into a quick, lopsided ball. With a mischievous grin, she called out, “Hey, farmboy!”

Clark turned just in time for the snowball to hit him squarely in the chest. He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’re sure you want to start this?”

“Oh, I’m positive,” Lois said, already gathering another snowball.

Clark bent down, moving in a blur to pack a perfect snowball of his own. Lois barely had time to yelp before it lightly grazed her arm. “That’s cheating!” she laughed, ducking behind a tree.

“All’s fair in love and snowball fights,” Clark teased, lobbing another snowball her way.

The yard quickly turned into their battlefield, laughter echoing through the crisp air as snow flew back and forth. Lois managed to land a well-aimed shot on his shoulder, only for Clark to retaliate by gently sprinkling a handful of snow over her head, leaving her sputtering and giggling.

Their playful battle left them laughing and breathless, snow clinging to their hair and coats. Finally, Lois called out, “Truce!” holding up her hands. Clark, already closing the distance between them, pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Truce,” he agreed, brushing a few stray flakes from her hair. She leaned into him, his warmth melting away the cold.

They stood there for a moment, the snow gently falling around them, cocooned in their own little world. Clark rested his chin on top of her head, his voice soft. “You know, I think I won this round.”

Lois tilted her head back to look at him, smirking. “Only because you cheated, flyboy.” She whispered the last word.

He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Maybe. But I’ll make it up to you later.” Reluctantly, they pulled apart and headed back toward the house.

Later as she looked out into their yard Lois saw a small flock of sparrows fluttering down to the wheat sheaf. She smiled, watching the tiny creatures pecking at their unexpected gift. A quiet smile spread across her face.

“They’re already coming,” she said softly.

Clark slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It’s amazing how a small gesture can make a difference, isn’t it?”

Lois leaned into him. “It really is.”

The gentle crackle of the fire filled the room as Lois’s gaze drifted to the bird ornament on their tree. It rested among the spider and the cucumber, each a testament to traditions that carried unexpected beauty and meaning.

“It’s funny,” she said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. “I never thought about how different Christmas is celebrated in other countries, but somehow the heart of it always stays the same.”

Clark turned his head to look at her, a quiet smile on his lips. “And how love, in all its forms, is at the heart of it all.”

Her eyes softened as she met his gaze. “I’m starting to think you’re the heart of all this, farm-boy.”

He chuckled, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face before leaning in to kiss her gently. “Only because you’re mine.”

The warmth of the day lingered in the quiet comfort of their embrace as they watched the flames dance. Outside, the faint song of birds seemed to echo the harmony they felt in their hearts.

Lois awoke to the soft patter of rain against the windows, a gray December morning greeting her through the faint glow of the curtains. The snow had melted into scattered patches of ice, leaving the city draped in shades of gray. Beside her, Clark slept peacefully, his breathing deep and steady. She smiled, her heart warming at the sight of him so at ease.

Quietly slipping out of bed, she padded into the kitchen, determined to surprise him. She brewed a pot of coffee and set out his favorite mug, a gift she’d bought him not long after learning his secret. At the time, she’d needed a little space to process everything, but when the dust settled, she’d stumbled on the perfect mug:

"Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is just be yourself."

It had come to symbolize the moment they truly became a team, secrets and all. She smiled, as she set the table.

“Well, good morning,” Clark said from behind her, already dressed and ready. “You’re full of surprises today.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Lois teased, a smirk playing on her lips. “Mad Dog Lane has got a reputation to protect.”

Clark chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “So, what’s the occasion? You’re pampering me - there’s got to be an angle.”

“Can’t I just do something nice for my husband?” she asked, tilting her head and leaning up to kiss him.

After breakfast she went to the calendar, untying the ribbon of the bag, a cherry ornament fell out. “A cherry?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Today’s tradition is tied to Saint Barbara’s Day. I learned about it in Lithuania. People cut branches from cherry or apple trees and bring them indoors. If the branches bloom by Christmas, it’s a sign of good luck and prosperity.”

Lois turned the ornament in her hands, intrigued. “So, it’s like fortune-telling, but with flowers?”

“In a way,” Clark said. “But it’s more about patience and hope - watching something bloom in the heart of winter. I thought we could head to the park on our way to work. We’ll bring some branches back and see what happens.”

After breakfast they grabbed their umbrellas and headed out. A cold wind blew around them as they wandered through the park, the trees standing bare against the winter sky. Clark carefully selected a couple of branches from an old cherry tree and handed them to Lois.

“These should do,” he said with a smile. “Now we just need to give them a little warmth and care.”

---

Later that day, the newsroom was abuzz with its usual energy. Lois sat at her desk, typing up notes.

Clark leaned over, catching her eye. “How’s the story coming?”

“Slowly,” Lois muttered, brushing a strand of hair back. “But it’s getting there. You?”

“Pretty much done. Just waiting on a call to confirm a detail.”

Before they could say more, Perry strolled over, coffee cup in hand. He gestured at the vase on Lois’s desk. “What’s that? New Christmas decor?”

Lois smirked. “It’s for St. Barbara’s Day. Clark introduced me to the tradition. If the branch blooms by Christmas, it’s supposed to bring good luck.”

Perry studied the branch with interest. “Good luck, huh? Well, we could use some of that. Christmas season’s a snooze-fest for news.”

Clark chuckled. “It’s more about hope than luck - a reminder that good things can grow even in tough times.”

Perry nodded, his expression softening. “You know, you two could teach this old dog a thing or two about keeping the faith.”

Lois smirked. “We’ll try not to rub off on you too much, Chief. Wouldn’t want you getting too sentimental - besides, you and Clark are the sentimental softies here, not me.”

“Don’t push your luck, Lane,” Perry retorted with a wink. “Now, if you two lovebirds can tear yourselves away from horticulture, I need that exposé by end of day.”

As he walked away, Clark glanced at Lois. “Sentimental softy, huh?”

She shrugged, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “It’s part of your charm, honey. People can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy around you.”

He chuckled. “Even you?”

“Especially me.” Lois leaned back in her chair, giving him a playful look.

Clark reached over, his hand brushing hers briefly. “Well, I ‘m glad it works on you.”

Lois smirked, but her eyes softened as she glanced at the branch again. “Yeah, it does.”

She stole a kiss from Clark before they got back to work.

---

That evening, the house glowed with warmth as Lois set the branches on the windowsill.

Clark handed her a mug. The faint aroma of honey and something earthy filled the air.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the creamy drink, “is Aguonų pienas - poppy seed milk. It’s another Lithuanian Christmas tradition, usually served during Kūčios, their Christmas Eve dinner because poppy seeds were believed to symbolize the return of the sun and the promise of longer, lighter days ahead.”

Lois picked up the mug, studying the pale, milky liquid. She took a cautious sip, her brows lifting in pleasant surprise. “It’s sweet. I like it.”

Clark smiled, his gaze soft as he watched her. “Sweet, like my beautiful wife.”

Lois set the mug down and leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”

“And you love me for it,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her.

She tilted her head up, meeting his eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

They sat in peaceful silence, the fire’s warmth and rain’s gentle rhythm wrapping them in calm.

Lois stepped into the living room the next morning, already eyeing the Advent calendar. Clark had already disappeared into the kitchen, as the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with something sweet and citrusy.

“Morning,” she called.

He appeared in the dining room, balancing a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate with crescent shaped pastries and several smaller baked goods. “Ready for today’s tradition?”

She smirked, walking over to the basket, already searching for bag number five. “I’ll bite. What’s in the bag? Judging by the croissant, I’d say France?” she asked as she opened it carefully.

Clark set the tray down and put a mug in front of her. “Nice guess, but no,” he said with a smile.

Lois pulled out a small, intricately carved broom ornament and raised an eyebrow. “A broom? Are you trying to tell me something, Kent?”

Clark laughed. “Not at all. It’s a hint for today’s tradition, one from Italy. Ever heard of La Befana?”

Lois shook her head. “Can’t say I have.”

Clark settled beside her. “She’s an old woman, a kind of Christmas witch, who brings gifts to children on the night before Epiphany. According to legend, the Three Wise Men stopped at her house on their way to see baby Jesus. They invited her to join them, but she declined, saying she was too busy sweeping. Later, she regretted her decision and set out to find them, bringing gifts for the child.”

Lois tilted her head, intrigued. “Let me guess, she never found them?”

Clark nodded. “But she kept going, visiting children and leaving gifts in case one of them was the Christ child. To this day, she’s a symbol of generosity and making amends.”

Lois stared at the little broom in her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I like that. It’s a bit… imperfect, but meaningful.”

Clark reached for the plate and offered her a pastry. “These are befanini - traditional Italian cookies made for La Befana. I got them at a small bakery in Tuscany, even if it’s a bit early. And these,” he pointed to the pastries, “are Italian cornetti, like croissants, but with a twist. I thought chocolate filling would be perfect for breakfast.”

Lois took a cookie, noticing the bright sprinkles and citrusy aroma. She bit into it, the delicate crunch followed by a burst of orange zest. “They are delicious.”

Clark shrugged, his eyes warm. “Today, I thought we could follow La Befana’s example. The Superman foundation has prepared packages for several of Metropolis’ orphanages but with all the stress around Christmas they are a few helpers short.” He winked. “Maybe we can deliver them together after work?”

She nodded, while biting into the cornetto Clark had given her. During breakfast they spoke about delivering the packages and decided to make sure the kids would get some befanini next month, on the night before epiphany.

Then she tilted her head back and gave him a sly smile. “So, let me get this straight - you want me to be a witch today?”

Clark chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not just any witch. A good witch. A wise and generous one who spreads joy and hope to those in need. Sound like anyone you know?”

Lois narrowed her eyes playfully. “What, like Samantha Stevens from Bewitched?” After a short pause she added “But just so we’re clear, I am not wearing a pointy hat or flying around on a broomstick.”

“Well,” Clark teased, his tone light, “you don’t need a broomstick when you’ve got me. And the hat’s optional - though I think you’d look pretty cute in one.”

She smacked his chest lightly, laughing. “You’re lucky you’re charming. But seriously, Clark… you amaze me. Not because of the flying or the cape, but because of how much heart you put into everything you do. You’re the real deal. A true hero.”

Clark’s teasing smile softened as he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s not just me, Lois. You remind me every day why it’s worth it. You’re my partner, my anchor. My good witch.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “We’re a pretty good team, aren’t we?”

“The best,” he replied, his voice full of warmth.

---

As they delivered the packages to the orphanages, Lois felt a quiet warmth growing in her chest. The sight of all the happy faces tugged at her heart. Though it stirred memories of what she and Clark longed for, she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the joy they could share with others.

On their way home, she glanced at Clark. “You know,” Lois said softly, glancing at Clark, “maybe La Befana had the right idea. Sometimes, you have to sweep out the past to make room for something better.”

Clark’s smile was gentle. “Exactly.”

---

Back at their house, they curled up on the couch, sharing the last of the cookies. The soft glow of the Christmas lights danced in Clark’s eyes as he pulled Lois closer. She rested her head on his chest, letting the quiet warmth of the moment settle over her.

Her gaze drifted to the Advent calendar. Tomorrow’s bag waited patiently, promising another surprise, another tradition. Lois found herself wondering what it might be, not with her usual skepticism, but with a faint spark of curiosity.

“You know,” she murmured, running her fingers lightly over his hand, “I think I might be starting to get the hang of this whole Christmas thing.”

Clark kissed her forehead, his voice a soft whisper. “One small act of kindness at a time.”

Lois closed her eyes, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a peaceful calm. For the first time in a long while, she felt like the season’s magic was within reach.

Lois wandered into the living room. "Clark? Have you seen my boots? I could have sworn I put them back into the shoe rack..."

Clark just came back inside with the morning edition of the Planet. “Good morning, Lois,” he said, handing her the small bag with a twinkle in his eye. “You should open this.”

Lois peeked inside, pulling out a tiny shoe ornament. She raised an eyebrow. “A shoe?”

Clark chuckled. “Today, we’re celebrating Sinterklaas from the Netherlands. It’s their version of St. Nicholas Day and it’s all about joy, surprises and the spirit of giving. In the Netherlands,” Clark explained, “children clean their shoes and leave them out on the evening of December 5th, hoping Sinterklaas will fill them with treats by morning.“

“So, is that why I can’t find my boots?”

Clark grinned. “Maybe Sinterklaas visited us too? Check by the fireplace.”

Sure enough, Lois found them there. Nestled inside were her favorite chocolate bars and a small, wrapped present.

“We’re going to the Netherlands for the day.” Clark said.

Lois blinked in surprise. “Wait, what? When?”

“Right after breakfast. It’s already midday over there, but we’ll have plenty of time to enjoy the festivities. There’s a parade and celebrations with traditional songs. And maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll catch a glimpse of Sinterklaas himself.”

Lois’s grin widened. “A parade, chocolate and you whisking me off on a holiday adventure? Today you’ve outdone yourself again.”

---

Lois adjusted her scarf as they stepped out of a secluded alley near the center of Utrecht, the crisp December air carrying hints of spices and baked goods. The cobblestone streets stretched out before them, their facades decked in festive lights. She turned to Clark. “So, what’s the plan, farmboy?”

Clark grinned, his gloved hand taking hers as they strolled toward the city center. “I thought we’d start with the parade and see where the day takes us.”

They followed the sound of music toward the Oude Gracht, Utrecht’s historic canal. Crowds lined the streets, children clutching burlap sacks in anticipation of candy. The parade was a swirl of color and tradition. Sinterklaas, with his regal robes and golden staff, waved majestically from his horse as he made his way along the canal. His helpers, dressed in colorful costumes, tossed handfuls of pepernoten to the crowd.

Lois leaned in close to Clark. “Look at the kids, this is magic for them.”

Clark nodded, his eyes sparkling. “Sinterklaas is all about creating joy. It’s why I thought you’d love it.”

When the parade ended, they wandered to the bustling Vredenburg Market, where rows of stalls brimmed with seasonal delights and handmade crafts.

Further into the market, the air grew warmer with the scent of freshly baked goods. They bought cups of hot chocolate. “This is what winter dreams are made of,” she said, savoring the first sip.

Nearby, another stall displayed stacks of speculaas cookies and trays of golden banketstaaf. Clark bought some and returned offering her a bite. “Here, try this,” he said.

Lois took a bite, her eyes widening. “This is amazing. Sweet, but not too sweet. And the filling, what is that?”

“Almond paste,” Clark replied. “It’s a Sinterklaas tradition. Want another?”

Lois laughed, reaching for more. “No thanks, I don’t have your metabolism, at this rate I won’t fit into any of my outfits soon.”

They spent the afternoon browsing stalls and soaking in the festive atmosphere. As twilight fell, the city lights reflected off the canal waters, turning the scene into something out of a postcard.

“Thank you,” Lois said softly, slipping her arm through Clark’s.

“For what?” he asked.

“For being you. You're so thoughtful, creating all of these things, just to show me that Christmas can be more than just stress and chaos.”

Clark kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Lois, you make it all worth it. Seeing you smile, hearing your laughter... That’s the best gift I could ever ask for.”

Lois tilted her head back, her eyes shining. “You’re not so bad yourself, Kent. But if you keep being this perfect, you’re setting the bar impossibly high for every Christmas after this.”

Clark chuckled, pulling her closer. “I’ll take that challenge.”

As they wandered past one of the final stalls, Clark stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on something. He guided Lois over, where a small display showcased hand-carved wooden figurines. Among them was a Sinterklaas holding the hand of a little child.

“It’s beautiful,” Lois said, reaching out to trace the delicate details.

Clark smiled, his voice soft. “Sinterklaas is a symbol of generosity and care for children, for bringing hope and joy. It reminds me that, no matter how uncertain the future feels, there’s always room for hope.”

Lois blinked, his words settling deep in her heart. She turned to him, her voice barely a whisper. “Clark...”

He spoke to the vendor and bought the figurine. Turning back to Lois, he placed it in her hands. “This is for us. A reminder of today and that love and kindness will always show us the way, no matter what.”

She looked up at him, her heart swelling. “How do you do it? Keep holding on to hope, even when...” Her voice caught, but she pushed on. “Even when it feels impossible?”

Clark reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His touch was steady, grounding. “Because I have you. With you, Lois, there’s nothing that feels impossible. We’ll find our way.”

Lois inhaled deeply, her eyes glistening as she stepped closer to him, her head resting against his chest. “You’re incredible, Clark Kent.”

“Not as incredible as you,” he murmured, holding her close.

As they walked along the glowing canal, the little gift nestled safely in Lois’s bag, she felt a quiet kind of joy. For the first time in months, the ache in her heart eased, replaced by the warmth of Clark’s unwavering belief in their future. And for the first time, she let herself believe, too.

Lois walked into the living room, drawn by the rhythmic drumming of rain against the windows. The storm outside had blanketed their house in a cocoon of sound, making the indoors feel especially warm and inviting. Clark sat on the sofa with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, honey, sleep well?” he rose to greet her.

“I always sleep well with you by my side.” She smiled, leaning into his embrace. They kissed, the distant roar of wind outside making their home feel like a refuge. “I hardly even noticed the storm before you left for the rescue. Did everything go well?”

He nodded. “Someone was trapped under a tree branch, fortunately he was mostly okay, just a few cuts and bruises. After I brought him to the hospital, I didn’t want to wake you, so I figured I’d read a bit on the sofa.”

“I wouldn’t have minded having my warm husband back in the cold bed at all,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, a small smile playing on her lips. Then turned to the advent calendar. Taking the bag from the basket and opening it, she found a book-shaped ornament and a small bookmark inside, decorated with intricate designs.

“Today’s tradition comes from Iceland.”

“And I guess it has to do with books…” She grinned.

Clark laughed. “This is for Jólabókaflóðið, or the Yule Book Flood. In Iceland, it’s a tradition that celebrates the joy of stories, just like how Icelanders cherish their books. It’s about slowing down, sharing stories with loved ones and making the night about something simple yet meaningful.”

He paused, glancing toward the fireplace. “It’s especially nice when the world outside feels so cold and stormy. Gives you a reason to stay inside, cozy up, and embrace the quiet moments.” He turned back to Lois, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And I made hot chocolate.”

“If there’s hot chocolate involved you can’t go wrong.” Lois glanced toward the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. “Perfect weather for staying in and reading.”

Clark gestured toward the kitchen. “Before that, I’ve prepared a little Icelandic breakfast. It’s called skyr, it’s like a thick, creamy yogurt. I topped it with fresh berries and a drizzle of honey. Simple, but healthy.”

“Healthy, huh? Should I be worried?” Lois smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

Clark chuckled, stepping closer. “I figured after the banketstaaf and all the cookies we ate last night, you might appreciate something a little lighter.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully. “Are you saying I need to cut back? Because I will fight you over the chocolate.”

“Never,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Besides, I’m the one who should probably cut back on snacks.”

Lois rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You could eat an entire buffet of junk food and still fit into your spandex suit. It’s downright unfair.”

Clark smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Perks of being Kryptonian. But you know for me you’ll always be the most perfect and beautiful person I know.”

She softened, brushing a kiss on his cheek. “Nice save, farm-boy. Let’s eat. I’m curious to see what the Kryptonian-approved, skyr tastes like.”

---

The fireplace crackled softly as Lois curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over her. A steaming mug of hot chocolate rested on the coffee table, alongside a small plate of speculaas they had brought home from the Christmas Market yesterday.

After another short rescue that afternoon Clark had settled in beside her with his own book. They read in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional sound of turning pages or the soft clink of their mugs.

Lois sipped her cocoa, her gaze lingering on Clark for a moment. As if he had sensed her gaze on him he looked up.

With a warm smile he said. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“It's nothing,” Lois murmured, watching Clark lovingly as she reflected on the cozy atmosphere he’d created. “I was just thinking about how much time you must have spent on planning all of this.”

“Well, finding a tradition took the most time, actually. Once I had 24 traditions, the rest was just research and finding good recipes.” He became thoughtful for a moment. “I have to admit - it was nice to see the different traditions from around the world.”

They continued reading, the warmth of the fire and the peaceful ambiance wrapping around them. Outside, the world was cold and dark, but inside, everything felt light and cozy.

Lois closed her book briefly and glanced at Clark. “Each of the traditions we tried so far were so different yet each seemed to hold the spirit of Christmas in its own way.

Clark chuckled. “Well, there are still plenty more to go. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Lois leaned against him, her voice soft. “I am. And I’m really glad you’re doing this for me.”

Clark’s arm around her, Lois closed her book, letting the quiet magic of the evening wash over her. The storm outside seemed so distant now, and she realized how much this moment with him meant, this simple, perfect evening of connection, warmth, and stories.

She leaned closer to Clark, her head resting against his shoulder. The storm outside felt miles away as Clark gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. Their eyes locked, and without a word, he kissed her, slow and tender. Lois pulled back slightly, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re all I need, you know that?”

Clark’s hand traced the curve of her back as he murmured, “And you’re all I ever wanted…”

Neither noticed when the power went out, the world outside fading away as they remained wrapped in their own quiet bubble of warmth.

The sound of the phone ringing stirred Clark from sleep. He blinked, taking a moment to orient himself before disentangling himself from his wife - carefully to avoid disturbing her sleep. Lois curled up, mumbling something incoherent but didn’t wake.

After getting up to rush downstairs for the receiver he answered “Hello?”

“Clark, it’s Perry,” came the familiar voice on the other end. “Sorry to call so early, but I need you and Lois at the Planet by noon. The Mayor’s office is holding a press conference in the evening about the citywide power outages last night.”

Clark frowned slightly. “Got it. We’ll be there.”

He hung up and turned his head toward Lois. With his x-ray vision he could see she was just beginning to stir, her hair tousled and face still half-buried in the pillow.

He went up to tell her about the call. “It was Perry,” he said softly, leaning closer kissing her cheek. “The Mayor’s office is holding a press conference about the power outages. We’re on the story.”

Lois squinted at him, then groaned as she stretched. “Power outages? That’s strange - we didn’t notice anything last night. Was Superman needed?”

Clark shook his head. “No, nothing came up. Guess we were… a little distracted.” His smile was playful and she rolled her eyes with a smirk of her own as she slid out of bed.

“Lucky us,” she muttered, grabbing her robe and heading for the kitchen.

„But I would have heard someone crying for help,“ he added.

By the time Lois stepped into the living room with a steaming mug of coffee, Clark had already made his way to the advent calendar.

“Being at work late actually works well for today’s tradition,” he remarked as she joined him.

Lois reached into the basket, pulling out the right bag. Inside, she found a tiny log ornament. Holding it up, she grinned. “I didn’t realize the world had so many unusual Christmas items.”

He laughed. “Today’s tradition is from France, Bûche de Noël, or the Yule log cake.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “A cake shaped like a log?”

“Exactly,” Clark replied. “In France, it’s traditional to make this cake during the holidays. It’s meant to represent the Yule log that people would burn on Christmas Eve, as a way of bringing warmth and light to the home. It’s rich, festive and meant to bring people together.”

Lois nodded, intrigued. “So we’re baking today?”

Clark nodded enthusiastically. “Not just any baking. This cake is a bit of an art form. It’s rolled with creamy filling and decorated to look like a real log. And once it’s done, we’ll share it with someone who could use a little holiday cheer.”

Lois grinned, already rolling up her sleeves. “Alright, let’s do this. ”

Later, the kitchen was a flurry of activity. Lois carefully spread chocolate buttercream over the sponge cake, Clark had rolled it into a log shape. Once assembled, they dusted the cake with powdered sugar to mimic freshly fallen snow and added decorative touches, tiny meringue mushrooms and sprigs of sugared rosemary.

The kitchen was a mess, dustings of flour, bowls with remnants of chocolate buttercream and traces of whipped cream were everywhere.

Lois leaned back, admiring their work. “I have to say, it’s impressive. Almost a shame to eat it and now we have to clean this mess.”

Clark reached for the leftover ganache with a mischievous glint in his eye. "There’s still some left," he said casually, dipping his finger into the bowl.

Lois narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Don’t even think about it."

Too late. With a quick flick, Clark smeared a small dollop of chocolate on the tip of her nose.

"Clark!" she exclaimed, laughing despite herself. She grabbed the spatula from the counter. "You’re going to regret that."

"Regret?" he said, feigning innocence, even as he darted just out of her reach. "I think it’s an improvement."

Lois lunged, managing to swipe a streak of ganache across his cheek. "There, now you match," she declared triumphantly.

Clark grinned, wiping the chocolate from his cheek with mock-surprise. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Lane."

She smirked, holding the spatula like a weapon. "Bring it on, farm-boy."

In a flash, Clark ducked behind her, pinning her lightly against the counter with his arms caging her in. "Now, what was that about regret?" he teased, his face mere inches from hers.

Lois arched an eyebrow, defiant despite the smile tugging at her lips. "I’d say it’s you who should be worried. You’re in striking distance."

Clark leaned closer, brushing his nose against hers, still streaked with chocolate. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice warm, "but you’re still the one with chocolate on your face."

Lois rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. "Smooth, Kent. Real smooth."

He grinned, taking a napkin to gently wipe her nose. "That’s me. Now, what do you say we call it a draw before we end up covered in ganache?"

Lois mock-sighed, handing over the spatula. "Fine. But only because I don’t want to waste perfectly good chocolate."

Clark winked as he placed the spatula back on the counter. "Good call. It’s much better on cake than on us."

Lois shook her head, still smiling.

Clark chuckled and after a few seconds of superspeed cleaning the kitchen was spotless again. “Well, we’re not the only ones who’ll get to. I thought we could share it at work.”

Lois’s expression softened. “That’s a nice idea. I think they could probably all use a little holiday cheer.”

Clark wrapped the cake in a box and together they headed to the Daily Planet.

---

“Hey, guys! What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the box.

Clark opened it, revealing the beautifully decorated Bûche de Noël. “We thought everyone could use a break.”

Jimmy’s face broke into a grin. “That’s awesome! Thanks, guys.”

Lois smiled.

As Jimmy eagerly cut a slice, Lois and Clark watched, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling between them.

Lois squeezed his hand. “Well, I guess today’s lesson is ‘cake makes everything better,’ and I’m fully on board.”

Clark chuckled. “That’s a pretty sweet takeaway.”

They walked home together, the spirit of giving warming their hearts as the day settled into a peaceful evening.

The next morning, Clark was called away early for Superman duties. Lois awoke to find a short note on his pillow, written in his neat handwriting:
Had to help with a freighter in the Pacific. Don’t wait for me, have a great day at work. Love you.

Smiling softly, she folded the note and set it on her nightstand.

Before leaving for work, she decided to prepare something for Clark, since he often stopped by at home to shower after such a rescue. She filled a plate with his favorite cookies and with a quick note of her own:
For my hero. See you at work. Love, Lois.

She put the plate in the living room before heading out.

---

Half the workday had passed before Clark finally showed up at the Planet. As usual, Lois had covered for him with Perry, claiming he’d been tied up chasing a lead. Spinning excuses for her partner had become second nature, but it still left her slightly on edge every time.

When Clark strolled into the bullpen, his familiar, easy smile instantly put her at ease. He leaned close as he reached her desk and whispered, “All good. Everyone’s fine.”

“Good,” she replied, relief evident in her voice before excitement took over. “Now let’s wrap up this story, because I can’t wait to see what’s in today’s bag.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she glanced at him.

---

After work, they returned home together, the weight of the day melting away as they stepped into their warm, familiar space. Lois hung up her coat and immediately made her way to the Advent basket.

Clark followed her, his movements unhurried, and slipped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. “Thanks for the cookies, by the way. They were perfect.”

Lois smiled, savoring his embrace. She paused for a moment to enjoy the closeness before opening the bag. Inside, she found a small music box. Turning the crank, a soft, soothing version of Silent Night began to play, filling the room with its gentle melody.

“This stands for Austria,” Clark whispered, brushing a light kiss against her temple.

Lois glanced up, a hint of recognition in her eyes. “This song… I didn’t know it was Austrian.”

Clark nodded. “It was first performed on Christmas Eve in 1818, in a little Austrian village called Oberndorf. It’s one of the most famous Christmas carols in the world now.”

Lois listened to the melody, her expression softening. “It’s beautiful. And peaceful.”

Clark’s smile deepened. “That’s exactly what it’s meant to be, a reminder of peace and stillness during the holiday season.”

He hesitated before adding, “I thought we could visit the winter market around the corner. They’re hosting a charity concert tonight. I heard they let people from the audience join.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming. “You? Singing? Clark, I’ve heard you in the shower. Let’s just say you wouldn’t exactly pack a concert hall.”

Clark chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t planning on joining in, trust me. I’ll leave the singing to you, if you want.” His eyes sparkled with admiration. “You have the kind of voice that could silence a room.”

Lois tilted her head back slightly to look at him, a warm smile spreading over her face. “You can be my backup… in a purely non-musical way.”

Clark grinned. “That’s all I was aiming for.”

Later, as they stood in front of the small stage in Centennial Park, Lois felt the music draw her in. The choir’s voices swelled, and without a second thought, she joined in, her voice effortlessly weaving into the harmonies.

Clark stood beside her, quietly admiring her, his eyes soft as he watched her sing. A middle-aged woman nearby, her scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, stepped forward.

“Your voice is lovely,” she said during a pause between two songs, her gaze lingering on Lois.

Lois was taken aback by the unexpected compliment. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice softer now. “It’s a beautiful song.”

The woman nodded and then turned her gaze on Clark. “You’re lucky to have her.”

Clark smiled, his eyes never leaving Lois. “I know.”

Lois interjected with a teasing smile. “Actually, I’m lucky to have him.”

Clark’s smile deepened, his hand reaching for hers, fingers intertwining. “I think we’re both pretty lucky.”

They stood together in the glow of the concert, the evening air crisp around them. For a moment, time seemed to slow as they soaked in the music and the peace of the season.

When the final notes of the carol drifted away, Lois turned to Clark. “This reminds me of another Christmas... three years ago, when you stayed with me.”

Clark’s lips tugged into a fond smile. “I remember. You’d invited everyone you could think of, but one by one, they canceled… even me. But then I realized I couldn’t leave you alone on Christmas.”

Lois smiled, her voice tender. “You didn’t want me to be lonely.”

“I couldn’t imagine you spending the holidays without family or friends,” he replied gently.

Lois paused, her expression softening. “I remember feeling a gentle breeze, thinking Superman had come. But when you stood in front of my door, it made me even happier. You claimed your plane had been snowed in, I knew you were lying. But I didn’t understand why you would rather be with me than your parents.”

Clark chuckled, a warmth in his eyes. “I don’t regret it for a second. That night is one of my favorite memories.”

Lois wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, her voice low but full of meaning. “Mine too. You didn’t let me be alone then, and you’ve never let me feel alone since.”

Lois blinked awake to find Clark watching her with a soft smile.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. “How about we just stay in bed today? Maybe Perry won’t notice we’re missing.”

Clark chuckled, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Morning, beautiful. Tempting, but you know Perry. If we’re not on that power outage follow-up, he’ll have us cornered faster than you can say ‘Great shades of Elvis.’”

She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. “Fine. But only if there’s coffee waiting when I make it to the kitchen.”

“Your wish is my command, milady,” he teased, brushing his lips over her nose before disappearing into the bathroom at super-speed.

By the time Lois made her way to the kitchen, Clark had already set the table with a light breakfast and was waiting for her, coffee in hand, perfectly mixed with milk and sweetener.

Next to her plate sat the small bag from her advent calendar, its familiar red ribbon tied neatly at the top.

“Thanks honey,” she said, accepting the coffee with a grateful smile and reaching for the bag.

Inside, she found a tiny wooden spoon.

Lois inspected the ornament more closely. “Are we cooking something today?”

“Well,” Clark began, pointing to the spoon, “this ornament represents a Finnish Christmas sauna. It’s a tradition where families visit the sauna together, usually on Christmas Eve or around the holidays. It’s about purifying the body and mind, kind of like resetting before the celebrations. The steam, the warmth… It's meant to bring peace and reflection, which is a big part of their holiday spirit. I found a small finnish spa and booked the sauna just for us after work.”

Lois twirled the spoon between her fingers, her expression softening. “Peace and quiet, huh?”

Clark chuckled. “It’s a moment of togetherness. Families sit in the warmth, talk and just enjoy the calm before the holiday rush.”

Lois folded her arms, her smile widening. “You do realize this is going to be pretty one-sided, right? A sauna won’t do much for you, Mr. Invincible.”

Clark laughed. “True, but that just means I’ll be your personal fan, keeping you company while you enjoy it.”

Lois rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide her amusement.

---

After work, they packed their bags and stepped into the spa, the crisp winter air giving way to a warm, inviting atmosphere. The faint sound of trickling water and soft instrumental Christmas music greeted them as they entered, setting a peaceful tone. Lois glanced around, taking in the tranquil environment with a raised brow. “Okay, I’ll admit, this feels… promising.”

Clark smiled, his hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her toward the sauna. “Just wait. You’ll love it.”

Inside the sauna, the wood-scented air enveloped them, thick and warm, like an embrace. Lois settled onto the wooden bench, adjusting her towel as the heat instantly worked its way into her skin. Clark sat beside her, looking perfectly unaffected, as if the intense warmth were no more than a summer breeze - which it probably was, for him.

Lois shot him a playful glare, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “You know, it’s kind of annoying how you don’t even break a sweat,” she quipped, dabbing at her face with a towel.

Clark chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry?,” he teased, leaning back against the wall. Then, with a grin, he picked up some birch twigs from the wooden bucket near his feet and gave them a light shake. “Would it help if I did the traditional birch whisking? Adds to the whole experience.”

Lois laughed, the sound ringing softly in the quiet space. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Guilty,” Clark said, flashing her a sheepish grin.

As the sauna’s soothing heat worked its magic, Lois leaned back and closed her eyes, surrendering to the warmth. The tension from her day began to melt away. “Okay,” she murmured, her tone softer now. “I get it. This is actually really nice.”

Clark smiled at her, his gaze tender. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

Lois cracked one eye open, turning her head to look at him. “You’re sneakily turning me into a reflective holiday person.”

“Just giving you a chance to see Christmas in a new light,” he replied with an easy shrug.

She reached for his hand, her fingers warm against his. “Thanks for always sticking with me,” she said quietly. “Even when I’m being… resistant.”

Clark squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Lois, anytime. For me, the best part of all of this is just being here with you.”

The heat and quiet created a space of intimacy and calm, wrapping around them like a shared secret. For a while, neither of them spoke, letting the silence stretch out comfortably between them.

When they finally left the sauna, the chill of the air outside felt sharper, though oddly invigorating. Snow had begun to fall lightly, the flakes dusting their hair as they made their way home. Lois glanced up at the night sky, her breath visible in the frosty air. For the first time in a while, she felt genuinely refreshed, her mind clearer and, though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, perhaps a little more open to the season’s magic.

Clark slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they walked. “Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low and warm.

She nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah. And… thank you. For today.”

“My pleasure,” he answered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Always for us.”

Lois stretched lazily under the covers, her nose twitching at the heavenly aroma of coffee wafting into the room. She opened her eyes to see Clark standing at the bedside, holding a steaming mug.

“Morning,” he said, his voice warm as the coffee.

“Morning,” she murmured, sitting up and accepting the cup. She took a sip, sighing contentedly. “You know, I could get used to this.”

Clark grinned. “I’m happy to oblige. But finish up, we’ve got breakfast waiting and then we can head out.”

As Lois set the cup down, Clark reached into his pocket and handed her the small bag from the advent calendar.

“Can’t forget this,” he said, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Lois peeked inside, pulling out a small, brightly wrapped tube. She turned it over in her hands, frowning. “What is this?”

Clark’s face lit up. “It’s a Christmas cracker! They’re a British holiday tradition. Families pull these at the dinner table during Christmas. When you open it, it makes a snapping sound and inside you’ll find a paper crown, a little toy or trinket and a joke.”

“Here. You don’t open them alone; you pull them with someone else. Ready?”

Lois raised an eyebrow but grabbed one end of the cracker. They both gave a tug and with a sharp pop, it burst open. Out tumbled a tiny toy and a slip of paper along with a paper crown. Lois picked it up, unfolding it to read aloud.

“‘What do you get if you cross a snowman and a vampire?’” She glanced at Clark, who shrugged. “‘Frostbite…”

Lois groaned, rolling her eyes. “Wow, those jokes are bad.”

“That’s the point,” Clark said with a chuckle, slipping the paper crown onto her head with a dramatic flourish. “Congratulations, milady. You’re officially part of a very British Christmas tradition.”

Lois adjusted the crown with an exaggerated air of regality, adopting her best British accent. “Absolutely splendid! And as the queen of this household, I decree that you return to bed at once, good sir.”

Clark’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Your wish is my command, Your Majesty. But I must warn you, I take royal orders very seriously.”

She laughed, reaching for his hand. “Good. Let’s see if you’re as good at following commands as you are at making coffee.”

A short while later, after a quick breakfast, they stepped out into the crisp morning air.

Lois' expression was a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Alright, I’ll bite. What other quirky traditions do the British have?”

Clark’s grin widened. “How about we try our hand at making mince pies? Sweet, spiced, and festive - a true holiday classic.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “Pie, you say? Now you’re speaking my language. Alright, farm-boy, count me in. But fair warning, if this turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you.”

Clark chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got enough super-speed to clean up any mess you make… though let’s try not to set the kitchen on fire this time.”

Lois smirked, playfully narrowing her eyes. “That was one time, and technically the flames were under control.”

---

Back at home, Clark rolled up his sleeves, setting the ingredients neatly on the counter with a practiced ease.

“So,” Lois began, eyeing the flour and butter with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, “what’s my role in this operation?”

Clark flashed her a reassuring grin. “We’ll tackle it together. It’s foolproof, I promise. First, we’ll make the dough, then the filling. Easy as pie - literally.” He paused, a twinkle in his eye. “Besides, legend has it that eating one mince pie on each of the Twelve Days of Christmas brings good luck for the entire year.”

Lois tilted her head, intrigued but unconvinced. “Good luck, huh? But knowing you, you’ll probably finish them in one day. Does that mean double the luck?”

Clark chuckled, stepping closer. “I think I already have all the luck I could ever need.” He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against her nose.

Lois smirked, swatting his chest lightly. “Flattery won’t save you if this dough ends up as combusts spontaneously.”

“Noted,” he said with a laugh, handing her a rolling pin. “Now, let’s see if we can make some Christmas magic without setting off the smoke alarm.”

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Clark rolled out pastry while Lois spooned the filling into the tart cases.

“These smell amazing,” Lois said, glancing at Clark. “But are we sure this is safe? You remember what happened last month, right?”

“You mean when the smoke alarm got a workout and we had to air out the kitchen for two hours?” Clark teased. “Don’t worry. There’s no flambéing, no complicated techniques. Just put the tops on and crimp the edges like this.”

Lois gave it a try, the pastry tearing slightly. “Hmm, rustic charm, right?”

“Exactly,” Clark said, diplomatically hiding a laugh.

After popping the mince pies into the oven, Lois leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This feels… festive. And a little domestic. Who would think that Superman is such a whiz in the kitchen?”

“I learned from the best,” Clark said with a wink. “My mom. Plus, it helps to have an indestructible palate for taste-testing experiments.”

Lois laughed. “Oh, don’t rub it in.”

When the pies came out of the oven, golden and steaming, Clark dusted them lightly with powdered sugar and placed one on a plate for Lois, after blowing a bit of ice cold superbreath on it to bring its temperature down enough.

“Alright,” he said, “moment of truth. Try it.”

Lois took a cautious bite, her eyes widening as the rich flavors hit her tongue. “Wow. Okay, these are amazing.”

Clark smiled, watching her savor the treat. “See? British traditions have their charm.”

Lois leaned against him, still holding the pie. “I think I like this. As long as I don’t have to make the pastry from scratch.”

Clark laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Deal.”

Lois glanced at the clock as she carried a tray of breakfast to the bedroom. Clark had stumbled in about an hour ago, exhausted from a long night of rescues and she’d let him sleep while she quietly whipped up an easy breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs and fresh coffee.

She nudged the door open with her foot to find him half-awake, his hair adorably rumpled. His eyes lit up as she approached.

“Good morning, honey,” she said, setting the tray on his lap. “You’ve been saving the world all night, I figured it was my turn to take care of you.”

Clark blinked at her, clearly touched. “Lois, this is... thank you.” He sat up straighter, taking in the spread. “You didn’t have to do this.”

She shrugged her robe off, slipping back into bed beside him with her own mug of coffee. “Maybe not, but I wanted to. Also I managed to make a pretty decent breakfast, so I figure we better celebrate the accomplishment.”

Clark chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “I think you’ve been learning a few things in the kitchen, Mrs. Kent.”

“Well, I am married to the best teacher,” she teased, giving him a wink. “Besides, you deserve it after last night.”

They ate together, the quiet morning stretching comfortably between them. As Clark polished off the last toast, Lois grabbed her robe and took out the small bag from its pocket.

She untied the ribbon and peeked inside, pulling out a small, polished seashell. She turned it over in her hands, her curiosity piqued. “Okay, I give up. What’s the deal with the seashell?”

Clark leaned back, watching her with a twinkle in his eye. “Australia.” He said with a grin. “Since it’s summer there, Christmas is all about being outdoors, barbecues, picnics and the beach. My plan was to recreate that vibe with a picnic on a beach towel, but after breakfast in bed, we’re cutting it close for work.”

Lois smirked, setting the shell on the tray. “Well, I don’t know about a picnic, but I like the idea of a warm Christmas. No shoveling snow, no frozen pipes… just sunshine and sand.”

“Maybe someday,” Clark said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But for now, we could talk about it on the way to work.”

---

Clark stepped into the living room after work, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he surveyed the space. Lois watched him curiously from the doorway, arms crossed.

“Alright, farm-boy, what are you up to now?”

Clark grinned and gestured to the pile of items he’d collected: a large, colorful beach towel, a platter of grilled veggie skewers, a pitcher of lemonade and a small portable fan.

“Since it’s too cold for a real beach day, I thought we’d bring the Australian Christmas indoors,” he said, spreading the towel on the floor. “In Australia, families often celebrate Christmas outside, barbecues, picnics and time on the beach. So, consider this a warm-weather Christmas, Metropolis-style.”

As they sat cross-legged on the towel, Lois took a bite of her skewer and sipped the lemonade. The portable fan hummed softly, creating a gentle breeze that made the scene feel surprisingly summery.

After they finished their meal, Lois leaned back, looking up at the ceiling as if it were a wide, open sky.

Clark smiled, his eyes warm. “It’s not so much about where you celebrate, but who you celebrate with.”

Lois turned her head to look at him, her smile soft. “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

“Okay I admit,” Lois said, leaning back on her hands. “This is really nice, I can almost feel the sun warming my skin. Christmas in Australia is a good alternative for all the snow and ice here.”

Clark laughed. “That’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t have to look the same everywhere. It’s about the people you share it with and finding joy in the little things.”

Lois smiled, her gaze softening. “You’re pretty good at this whole Christmas spirit thing, aren’t you? Are you sure you didn’t forget to tell me about your secret identity as Santa?”

“Just trying to help you see the magic, honey,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “And you know all my secret identities.”

They lingered on the towel, the wintry world outside fading as they shared their makeshift Australian Christmas - simple and unexpected - feeling perfect.

Just like every moment they spent together.

The soft, pale light of early morning filtered through the curtains as Lois wandered into the living room. She felt the quiet hum of the season settling in around her, like the calm before a storm. Clark was already there, flipping through some papers on the couch, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Lois said with a teasing smile as she sipped her coffee, leaning against the doorframe before walking over to kiss her husband.

Clark looked up, his face brightening instantly. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

Lois smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, considering someone was very intent on keeping me awake last night, I’d say I managed a few hours of rest.”

Clark chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t remember hearing any complaints.”

“Who said I was complaining?” she quipped, leaning in to kiss him again.

Then she walked to the advent calendar and quickly located the bag with the thirteen on it and began to open it. She pulled out a small, delicate crown made of greenery, with tiny faux candles on it.

“I think I’ve seen something like this before,” she mused.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with excitement. “Well, we’ve got a Swedish tradition today: St. Lucia’s Day.”

Lois’ curiosity piqued. “St. Lucia?”

Clark laughed. “On St. Lucia’s Day, Swedish girls often wear a crown like this and serve their family members breakfast in bed. It’s a tradition that symbolizes light and hope during the darkest time of the year.”

Lois examined the crown, smiling slightly. “Tempting, but it’s a bit… late for breakfast in bed, since we’re both already up.”

“Well,” Clark said, “the story behind St. Lucia is that she was a young woman who brought food to the Christians hiding in the catacombs. To light the way, she wore a crown of candles on her head. It’s a symbol of selfless service, bringing light to others.”

Lois pondered that for a moment. “Sounds like something you’d do.”

Clark shrugged, a modest smile on his face. “I try.”

Lois shook her head with a smile of her own. “Alright, what are we doing?”

Clark’s smile deepened. “Well, I thought we could bring a little light to someone else today. I know of a local senior center that doesn’t get much foot traffic around the holidays. They’re always looking for volunteers to help out with their holiday festivities.”

Lois’ face softened. “You want us to be the St. Lucia for the elderly?”

Clark nodded. “Exactly. It’s about sharing what you have, whether it’s your time, a smile, or a little holiday cheer.”

They spent the next few hours baking Swedish lussekatter, saffron buns shaped like the letter “S,” and preparing small baskets with treats to bring to the senior center. Lois found herself in a much lighter mood as they worked together, the warm scent of the buns filling the kitchen.

When they arrived at the center, the friendly staff greeted them with enthusiasm. Lois and Clark donned festive hats, a last-minute addition from Clark, and began making their rounds.

The residents were delighted, their eyes lighting up at the sight of the couple. Lois found herself exchanging holiday anecdotes with a woman named Eleanor, who regaled her with tales of Christmases spent in a bustling London during wartime.

Clark, meanwhile, drew a small crowd of admirers. “You’re much too handsome to be volunteering here,” one of the women teased, laughing. Clark took the compliment in stride, his easy charm putting everyone at ease.

At one point, Lois found herself sitting with a woman named Ruth, who had a twinkle in her eye despite the years. Ruth grasped Lois’ hand with surprising strength. “You know, dear, sometimes the light we give is the light we need most. Thank you for sharing yours with us.”

Lois blinked, caught off guard by the wisdom in Ruth’s words. “You’re welcome. Honestly, I think I’m getting as much out of this as you are.”

Elsewhere, Clark was helping another resident, James, hang ornaments on a small tree in the common room. “Used to do this every year with my wife,” James said, his voice tinged with nostalgia.

“Well,” Clark replied gently, “we’ll make sure this tree looks just as perfect as the ones you used to decorate together.”

As the afternoon wore on, Lois and Clark found themselves immersed in the spirit of the season.

When they finally left the senior center, their hearts a little fuller than when they arrived, Lois turned to Clark. “You were right. Sometimes light is about more than just candles. It’s about showing up, about making a difference where you can.”

Clark smiled, his expression warm. “Exactly. It’s a tradition that never gets old.”

Lois chuckled. “You know, I think I might finally be leaving my Grinch phase when it comes to Christmas.”

Clark grinned, taking her hand as they walked to the car, the lingering glow of the day wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

The warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread filled the kitchen, wrapping Lois and Clark in a comforting cocoon of domestic bliss. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting golden streaks across the table. There was a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly crispy bacon and some of Lois’s favorite croissants from the little bakery just a block away.

Clark had gone the extra mile, as he often did, arranging fresh fruit, juicy berries, sliced kiwi and orange segments, in a neat, colorful pattern. A small jar of Martha’s best marmalade gleamed like liquid sunshine beside the croissants, accompanied by butter that he had softened just enough to spread easily.

Lois couldn’t suppress a smile as she slid into her seat. “This looks amazing, farm-boy,” she said, reaching for her coffee.

It was exactly how she liked it.

Clark grinned, sitting across from her. “Sunday mornings are supposed to be special,” he said, pouring himself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Lois took a bite of her croissant, its flaky layers melting in her mouth. “You know,” she said, “if you ever get tired of saving the world, I think you could open a bed-and-breakfast. You’d make a killing.”

Clark chuckled. “I think I’ll stick to rescuing people for now. But I’ll keep the idea in mind for retirement.”

They ate slowly, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. At one point, Clark reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. “You look beautiful,” he said softly, his voice filled with that quiet sincerity that always caught her off guard.

Lois felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks. “You’re biased,” she said, her tone teasing.

“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation, his eyes sparkling.

Outside, the world seemed frozen in time, the streets still and quiet beneath a blanket of snow. But inside their kitchen, the air hummed with warmth, love, and the unspoken promise of a day spent together.

Lois leaned back in her chair, cradling her coffee mug, and sighed contentedly. “You’re right, Sunday mornings should be special. I could get used to this.”

Clark smiled, reaching for another croissant. “Good. Because I plan to spoil you like this every Sunday for the rest of our lives.”

Lois sipped her coffee, savoring the warmth, and glanced at the advent calendar bag sitting next to her plate. She set her mug down and pulled the bag closer, untying the ribbon with a flick of her fingers. Inside was a piece of paper, with the instructions for building paper lanterns.

Clark smiled and reached for something, hidden from her view. Then he pulled out a lantern just like the one on the instruction. Its vibrant colors and intricate patterns catching the light streaming in through the window.

“It’s beautiful,” Lois said, holding it up to inspect. “Where’s this one from?”

Clark leaned back in his chair, his expression soft. “It’s inspired by the Ligligan Parul, or Giant Lantern Festival, in the Philippines. San Fernando is known as the Christmas Capital of the Philippines because of it. The lanterns represent light and hope, especially during the holiday season. It starts today and lasts until New Year.”

Lois traced her fingers over the paper edges, her lips curving into a smile. “Light and hope, we all have the same theme around the world.”

“Hmm, if only some people remembered that more often.,” Clark replied, clearly remembering a rescue from last night.

Lois interjected, taking his hand. “Because of you, they do. You’re a light of hope for all of us.”

He smiled back at her. “I know, but even I have my doubts, sometimes. Thank you for always brightening up my life.” He pulled her on his lap and kissed her lovingly. Then he went on, “I thought we could make our own lanterns today. Something colorful to brighten up the neighborhood.”

“Arts and Crafts, farm-boy?” She teased. “Sounds like a perfect sunday to me.”

After breakfast, they cleared the dining table and spread out materials: colorful paper, scissors, glue, and strings of tiny LED lights.

“You know,” Lois said as she folded a piece of paper carefully, “I could get used to this. Maybe we should pick out a few of these Christmas traditions and do them next year?”

“That sounds wonderful, honey, count me in.” He grinned, pleased that his wife finally began to see Christmas as more than a chore.

Holding up her partially constructed lantern, she murmured, “This actually looks decent.”

Clark leaned over to inspect her work, his shoulder brushing hers. “Decent? It’s bold and unique, just like you.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, nudging him lightly.

By mid-afternoon, their lanterns were finished. Clark’s was intricate, with delicate star patterns that reflected his meticulous attention to detail. Lois’s was bold and modern, with strong geometric shapes and vibrant colors.

They hung the lanterns in the window, stepping back to admire the soft, colorful glow that filled the room.

“They’re perfect,” Lois said, her voice quieter now.

Clark stood beside her, his hand brushing hers. “Light has a way of drawing people in, even on the darkest nights.”

Lois glanced at him, her eyes warm but teasing. “You’re such a sap sometimes.”

He smiled, slipping his arm around her waist. “Just speaking the truth. You know, in the Philippines, these lanterns aren’t just decorations, they’re symbols of resilience and community. They’re a reminder that even when times are tough, people come together to share hope.”

Lois rested her head against his shoulder. “I like that.”

Clark kissed her temple softly.

As the light from their lanterns spilled out into the street, Lois felt a quiet contentment settle over her. It wasn’t just the lanterns, or the tradition, it was the simple act of creating something meaningful together.

For a moment, they stood in the soft glow, watching as the lights flickered gently, a beacon of hope for anyone who passed by.

Early the next morning, Lois padded into the kitchen, where Clark was already bustling about, making coffee and getting breakfast ready.

“Morning, honey,” Lois said as she accepted the coffee Clark handed her. “How’s the world today?”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “Good morning. The usual chaos. Perry’s already breathing down our necks - apparently, someone set up a fake charity and used the donations to fund a drug operation.”

Lois groaned, her tone halfway between exasperation and amusement. “Figures. Crime doesn’t even take a holiday before Christmas.”

As she took a sip of her coffee, her eyes drifted toward the bag from their advent calendar, placed neatly on the table beside the tree. Lois picked it up, carefully untying the ribbon before pulling out a miniature wooden ornament, a delicate, carved pine tree. The simple design was beautiful, its edges smooth and it carried a faint scent of pine.

She raised an eyebrow and looked over at Clark. “A tree tree-ornament?”

Clark smiled knowingly. “Exactly. But it’s more than just a decoration. The tree represents a very old Christmas tradition.”

Lois’s curiosity piqued. “I never thought about the origin of Christmas trees.”

“The tradition of the tree has roots that go back much further than we often realize.” He answered. “In fact, it’s believed that the first Christmas tree, as we know it, originated in the Baltic region, in the early 16th century, though similar traditions are much older than that. Some historians see the origin in ancient Egypt, others with the Celts.”

Lois leaned in, intrigued by his tone. “I had no idea.”

Clark nodded. “Yeah, it’s fascinating. The first recorded Christmas tree was set up in Rīga, Latvia, back in 1510 though other sources credit the tradition to Germany. It wasn’t quite like the trees we see today, it was a big fir tree, decorated with candles, which was a big deal back then. People would gather around it, sing carols and celebrate the Christmas season. That tree was then put up in the public square.”

Lois looked down at the small wooden ornament in her hand, turning it over thoughtfully. “So this tiny tree is a symbol of that first Christmas tree tradition?”

Clark smiled, nodding. “Exactly. It’s a tribute to the roots of the holiday. That tradition spread over time, with people decorating trees in their homes, symbolizing light and life during the darkest days of winter. Over the centuries, it evolved into the Christmas tree we know today, adorned with ornaments, tinsel and lights.”

She glanced over at their tree, its branches heavy with ornaments. The soft glow of the lights cast a warm, golden hue over the room and Lois couldn’t help but smile.

Clark followed her gaze and for a moment, they both just stood there, taking in the beauty of the tree. Lois reached over to place the little wooden ornament on a low branch, where it could catch the light just right.

Clark leaned against the back of the chair, watching her.

She reached over, giving Clark a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away, a playful glint in her eye. “As much as I’d love to keep this holiday magic going, we still have work to do, don’t we?”

Clark sighed dramatically, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Yep. Perry’s not going to give us a free pass just because it’s Christmas.”

Lois glanced at the clock, realizing they were running short on time. “Come on, we better get moving if we’re going to make it to work on time. Let’s grab a quick breakfast before we head out.”

---

That evening, after a long day at work, Lois and Clark returned home. They had just finished dinner when Clark suggested they try something new for the evening.

“I was thinking,” he said, his voice warm, “since we talked about Latvia this morning, why don’t we celebrate one of their Christmas traditions tonight? It’ll take a couple of hours, but I think you’ll love it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “What kind of tradition?”

Clark smiled mysteriously as he pulled a small envelope from his pocket. Inside was a printed recipe and a handwritten note. “It’s called piparkūkas. They’re Latvian gingerbread cookies, and they’ve been a Christmas tradition for centuries.”

“Latvian, huh? Is there a story behind these cookies, or did you just find an excuse to get me to bake?” She replied.

His smile widened. “The name comes from the word pipari, which means ‘pepper,’ because they’re rich with spices like cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. Back in the Middle Ages, spices were so expensive that baking cookies like these was a big deal, reserved for the holidays or special celebrations. They’re rolled thin, cut into all kinds of shapes: stars, hearts, snowflakes. Sometimes they’re even hung on Christmas trees as decorations. There’s also this fun little Latvian superstition that eating piparkūkas might make you fall in love. So, I guess you’d better be careful.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. “Fall in love, huh? Guess it’s a little late for that, though I suppose it could make me fall even harder. Better watch out, farm-boy. You might end up stuck with me forever.”

Clark chuckled, leaning closer. “Stuck with you forever? Lois, that’s why I married you.”

Soon, the kitchen was filled with the warm, festive aroma of spices as they worked side by side. Clark rolled out the dough while Lois carefully cut out shapes.

As the cookies baked, they sat at the kitchen table, sipping mulled cider Clark had prepared earlier. “In Latvia,” he said, “families do this, especially in the weeks leading up to Christmas. It’s not just about the cookies - it’s about spending time together, sharing stories, and savoring the season.”

Later, as they pulled the golden-brown cookies from the oven, Lois sampled one, her eyes widening. “Clark, these are amazing. We’re definitely doing this again.”

Lois woke to the sound of lively music drifting in from the kitchen. The rhythmic strum of a mariachi tune mixed with the warm, spicy scent of cinnamon and chocolate. She stretched, pulling herself out of bed, curiosity leading her downstairs.

In the kitchen, a steaming mug of cocoa sat waiting for her. Lois wrapped her hands around it, savoring the rich, velvety taste as it spread through her, chasing away the last traces of sleep. She looked up as Clark bustled around, humming softly to the music.

She glanced over the rim of her mug to find Clark, bustling around. “Morning,” he said, his smile as warm as ever.

“Morning,” Lois replied, setting her mug down. “Clark, what are you up to now?” Lois asked, raising an eyebrow as she took her seat on the couch after getting the bag from the basket.

Lois undid the ribbon and peeked inside, pulling out a small ornament, a clay figurine of Mary and Joseph on a donkey, She raised an eyebrow. “Judging by the music in the kitchen, I’m guessing Mexico?”

“Correct,” Clark said, leaning against the counter. “Today’s tradition is Las Posadas.”

Lois tilted her head. “That’s the one where people reenact Mary and Joseph’s search for shelter, right?”

Clark nodded. “Exactly. For nine nights leading up to Christmas, families go from house to house, singing carols and asking for shelter. Most homes ‘reject’ them, but the final house welcomes everyone inside for a celebration with food, music and piñatas. It’s a beautiful mix of faith, hospitality and community.”

Lois considered the ornaments. “So it’s about opening your home and heart?”

Clark smiled. “You’ve got it. I thought we could do something similar. Host a small gathering for our neighbors, especially those who might be alone this season, like Bertha Avery. We can share food, maybe even sing.”

Lois smirked. “And you’ll provide the food, right? Because we both know I’m not whipping up a Mexican feast on short notice - not that I could manage it if I had the time. And we still have to go to work today.”

Clark chuckled. “I’ve already got it covered. Superman is handling the food. But you’re helping with the decorations and the singing.”

Lois stood up with a laugh, ready to help. “Alright, let’s do it.”

---

That evening, their home transformed into a cozy celebration of Las Posadas. Clark created a feast: steaming tamales, bowls of pozole and crispy buñuelos dusted with cinnamon sugar. Lois helped set up and hang colorful decorations Clark had produced from somewhere. He’d even found some time to invite their neighbors.

A handful of people arrived, filling the living room with warmth and chatter. They shared stories and laughter over the delicious spread, while Clark explained the significance of Las Posadas. Though they skipped the traditional procession, the spirit of community was undeniable.

When Mrs. Ramirez, their elderly neighbor, approached her with a gentle smile, Lois felt a tug at her heart.

“You know,” Mrs. Ramirez said softly, “it’s been years since I celebrated Las Posadas. Thank you for bringing back such special memories. It’s nice to feel connected again.”

Lois squeezed her hand. “I think that’s why Clark loves this season so much.”

As the night wound down and their guests trickled out, Lois stood by the window, gazing at the softly falling snow. Clark came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“You were amazing tonight,” he murmured.

Lois leaned back against him, her voice quiet. “It felt good. Like we were part of something bigger.”

Clark pressed a kiss to her temple. “That’s what Christmas is about. Opening doors, even the ones we’ve kept shut for a while.”

She turned in his arms, her eyes shining. “Thank you, Clark. For reminding me how good it can feel to let people in.”

As the evening settled in, they moved to the living room, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting a warm light. Clark pulled out a small piñata he’d secretly prepared, filled with Lois’s favorite treats. After some laughter and playful competition, they shared the spoils, sitting close on the couch.

Lois leaned her head against Clark’s shoulder, her voice soft. “You know, I never thought piñatas could feel so… meaningful.”

Clark wrapped an arm around her, his voice equally tender. “It’s not about what we do, but who we share it with. That’s the real tradition.”

As they ate the last of the buñuelos the glow of the Christmas tree wrapped them in a cocoon of warmth. Lois rested her head on Clark’s shoulder, feeling a rare sense of peace.

Lois smiled, her fingers tracing patterns on his hand. “Thank you, Clark. For making Christmas feel like something I could actually enjoy.”

He kissed her temple, his voice a gentle whisper. “You deserve all the joy in the world, Lois. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find it.”

They sat in peaceful silence, the warmth of the season wrapping around them like a soft blanket.

Clark was just pouring coffee when Lois walked into the kitchen, still tying her robe. On the table next to her spot sat the day’s advent calendar bag. He smiled, handing her a cup. “Morning, honey.”

“Morning,” she said, sipping the coffee with a pleased hum.

Lois picked it up and pulled out a small wooden figurine painted with the image of St. Lazarus. She turned it over in her hand, studying the details. “St. Lazarus? Isn’t he the one who… you know, came back from the dead?”

Clark nodded. “That’s him. But he’s also celebrated as the patron saint of the sick and poor. In Cuba, there’s a tradition tied to him - The Feast of St. Lazarus. On his feast day, people focus on helping those in need, especially by sharing meals or offering support.”

Lois traced a finger over the painted wood, her expression softening. “That’s a beautiful tradition. So… What’s your plan for today?”

Clark said with a smile. “I thought we could do something a little different today. Instead of cooking ourselves, I signed us up to help out at the St. Matthew’s homeless shelter downtown. They’re short on volunteers this morning.”

Lois glanced up, touched by the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. “Let me guess -you already cleared it with Perry?”

Clark grinned, his eyes twinkling. “He was surprisingly on board. Said it’d be great for the Planet’s community coverage. Plus, we’ll still have time to work on that charity scandal story afterward. Of course, he’s expecting a write-up about this too - something with that touchy-feely angle you’re so fond of in our pieces.”

Lois smirked, setting the figure carefully on the table. “Only because you’re by my side, farm-boy. Give me a minute to get ready.”

Clark chuckled, folding his arms. “Take your time. And don’t worry - you’re off kitchen duty today. We’ll be serving, not cooking.”

---

A little while later, Lois and Clark stepped through the front doors of St. Matthew’s. The warmth of the shelter enveloped them, a stark contrast to the biting chill of the December air. Inside, the place hummed with energy. Volunteers bustled about, setting up tables, stirring steaming pots of soup, and arranging trays of food. The comforting aroma of freshly baked bread floated through the air, mingling with the hum of voices and the subtle, less pleasant smell of the crowd gathered inside.

Lois paused just a step inside, her breath catching as the medley of scents hit her all at once. The sudden wave of nausea was unexpected, and she instinctively took a step back, her face briefly registering discomfort.

Clark’s brow furrowed with concern as he turned to her. “Everything okay, honey?”

“Yes,” Lois said quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. “It’s just… a lot to take in at first.” With a small shake of her head, as if willing the odd sensation to pass, she straightened and stepped forward, her hand brushing against Clark’s for support.

They were soon greeted by the shelter’s coordinator, a middle-aged woman with a warm, welcoming smile. “You must be the Kents,” she said, extending her hand. “Thank you so much for coming. We can always use more hands.”

“Happy to help,” Clark said. Lois nodded beside him, already rolling up her sleeves.

For the next few hours, Lois and Clark worked side by side, serving hot meals, pouring coffee and chatting with the shelter’s guests. Lois found herself smiling as she listened to people share snippets of their lives, their gratitude evident even in small gestures. Clark, as always, with his easy warmth and genuine kindness, seemed to put everyone at ease.

As they worked, Lois noticed an older man sitting alone at one of the tables, cradling a bowl of soup but not eating. After a moment’s hesitation, she approached him.

“Hi, I’m Lois,” she said, sitting down across from him. “Mind if I join you?”

The man glanced up, his weathered face etched with lines of hardship. “Suit yourself,” he said gruffly, but there was a hint of gratitude in his voice.

“How long have you been coming here?” she asked gently.

“Couple of months,” he replied, stirring his soup absently. “Lost my job last year. Hard to bounce back when you’re my age. Name’s Oliver, by the way.”

Lois smiled softly. “Nice to meet you, Oliver. For what it’s worth, I think it takes real courage to keep going, especially when things get tough.”

Oliver gave a faint smile, his grip on the spoon steadying. “Thanks for saying that. Most folks just look right past you.”

“Well, not today,” she said warmly. “Today, you’re important for me and my husband over there.” She indicated in Clark’s direction.

Watching from a distance, Clark smiled brightly as Lois brought a little hope to someone who clearly needed it.

During a brief lull, she leaned closer to him. “You know,” she said, her voice low, “it’s easy to get caught up in the chaos of work and forget what this season is supposed to be about. I’m glad you reminded me.”

Clark gave her a soft smile, his eyes full of affection. “It’s not about grand gestures or gifts. Sometimes, just being present and showing kindness is enough.”

She bumped his shoulder lightly with her own. “You’re a good man, Clark Kent.”

“And you’re not so bad yourself,” he teased, making her laugh.

The wind howled, rattling the windows. Lois groaned, burrowing deeper under the covers. Blinking at the clock, she frowned - Clark was already gone. Typical.

Shuffling into the kitchen, robe loosely draped, she found him bright-eyed, dressed and disgustingly cheerful.

“Morning, honey,” he said warmly, as though he could sense she wasn’t quite ready for the day. He handed her a steaming mug of coffee. A kiss brushed her cheek as he added, “How’s the world today?” His teasing echoed her own question earlier this week.

Lois collapsed into a chair with a groan. “Cold,” she muttered, curling her hands around the mug. “Still spinning, I assume.”

Her gaze fell on the bag and after a long sip - perfect, as always - she pulled out a small, woven ribbon bracelet in green, yellow, and blue.

“It’s a fitinha do Bonfim,” Clark explained, his voice brightening. “from Brazil. You tie it on, make three wishes, and when it falls off, they’re supposed to come true.”

Lois arched a brow but couldn’t hide her curiosity. “Three wishes, huh? Does one include getting another hour of sleep?”

“You can wish for whatever you want.” He replied, then after a pause he added. “We’ll do something special after work,” his grin widening.

Lois tilted her head, the fatigue already loosening its hold. “Fine, keep your secrets. Just don’t forget - we’ve got a packed day and Perry’s breathing down our neck.”

Clark chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of forgetting.”

Lois studied him for a moment, fond amusement softening her gaze. “You really are impossible, you know that?”

Clark’s smile gentled. “And yet, you keep me around.”

Rolling her eyes, she couldn’t stop her smile. “Lucky me.”

---

The day blurred with meetings, calls, and chasing leads. When they got home, Lois was ready to collapse on the couch.

Clark had other plans. He had already spun into his suit, the familiar breeze and blur signaling there was no escape.

“Come on,” he said, his tone coaxing as he held out his hand.

Lois shot him a look. “Clark, it’s freezing, I’m exhausted, and I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“You’ll like this, I promise,” he countered, his boyish grin disarming her.

Before she could protest further, he scooped her up, wrapping his cape around her like a shield against the cold. She opened her mouth to argue but the warmth of his embrace and the comfort of his cape had her sighing instead.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight you on this,” she muttered, though her voice softened, losing its edge.

Clark chuckled and kissed her temple before they lifted into the icy night. The glittering city lights shrank below as he soared higher, his arms steady around her. Lois closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into him a little more.

Minutes later, Lois found herself standing by the shimmering waters of Rio de Janeiro’s Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon. The sudden shift from Metropolis’s icy streets to the balmy Brazilian night left her blinking.

“Clark…” she breathed, her earlier weariness momentarily forgotten. “What is this?”

He smiled, leading her closer to the water’s edge. “This,” he said quietly, “is something I thought you’d like.”

Out in the center of the lagoon, a massive Christmas tree floated on a barge, its lights twinkling like a constellation against the dark sky. The tree’s reflection shimmered on the water, as though the lagoon itself held a galaxy of stars.

Lois stared, her fatigue melting away as wonder crept into her voice. “It’s… beautiful.”

Clark slipped an arm around her waist, “It’s the world’s largest floating Christmas tree. They light it up every December, and it stays until after New Year’s. It’s one of Rio’s most beloved traditions.”

She turned her head to look at him, her expression softening. “You flew me to Brazil to see a Christmas tree?”

He chuckled, his smile sheepish. “You seemed like you needed a little light tonight.”

Lois’s heart tugged unexpectedly as she turned back to the scene before her. People strolled the shoreline, laughter blending with faint strains of music. For a moment, she stood silent, letting the peace wash over her.

Clark broke the silence, his voice quiet. “Here, the tree is not just decoration - it’s a celebration of light and joy, a symbol of hope.”

Lois leaned into him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. She whispered teasingly, “You really are impossible, you know that?”

Clark smiled into her hair. “And yet, you still let me drag you halfway across the world.”

“Dragging is a strong word,” she admitted, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Although if you don’t feed me soon, I’m reserving the right to change my mind.”

Clark laughed, slipping his hand into hers. “Come on. There’s a café nearby. Let’s get some food before you get really cranky.”

She shot him a look, but her smirk betrayed her amusement. “Lead the way.”

They ended up at a cozy café overlooking the lagoon. A plate of rabanada arrived at their table, crisp and caramelized, dusted generously with cinnamon sugar. Lois took a bite and her eyes fluttered shut.

She sighed contentedly. “Definitely worth the trip.”

Clark leaned back, watching her with a warm smile. “Sometimes you just need to slow down and enjoy.”

Lois gave him a wry look. “Are you telling me to stop obsessing over the charity scandal?”

His grin widened. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing you smile.”

She shook her head, though her softened expression gave her away. “Mission accomplished.”

Later, as they flew home, Lois rested in Clark’s arms. The bracelet on her wrist caught the moonlight. “Three wishes,” she murmured.

Clark glanced down, his voice gentle. “What did you wish for?”

Lois tilted her head, her eyes warm and unguarded. “I already have everything I need.”

His arms tightened around her slightly, and they drifted in silence. Below, the lights of Metropolis glittered as they carried a touch of Brazilian warmth back with them.

Lois stirred, nestled in Clark’s arms. His lips brushed her forehead, drawing a sleepy smile.

“Morning,” Clark murmured softly.

“Morning,” she replied, resting her hand on his chest.

He kissed her temple, his arms tightening briefly. “Ready to face the day?”

“Not yet.” She pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. “Five more minutes.”

Clark smiled, pulling her closer. “Anything to make you happy.”

Half an hour later, though, the lure of coffee won, and they finally left the warmth of their bed.

In the living room, Lois paused by the calendar before heading to the kitchen. She hesitated briefly, an odd feeling tugging at her, but she brushed it off as the week’s exhaustion. Grabbing the bag, she followed the scent of coffee.

“I’ll have your coffee ready in a second,” Clark said, gesturing to the table already set with breakfast. “Sit down, and we’ll eat.”

As he finished setting the table, Lois loosened the drawstring on the bag and pulled out a small carved baobab tree ornament, its angular branches and broad trunk beautifully detailed.

She held it up, intrigued. “This isn’t your typical fir tree.”

Clark sat beside her. “It’s a baobab tree, called the ‘Tree of Life.’ It symbolizes resilience and strength, which reminded me of you.”

Lois smirked, brushing her thumb over the smooth wood. “Sweet talker. So, what’s this tree got to do with Christmas?”

“In South Africa, baobabs are sometimes decorated like Christmas trees. It’s a way of blending local culture with the holiday season.”

“Decorating a giant tree in the heat? Not exactly snowy Christmas vibes,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Clark replied. “Christmas there is about family, summer, and unique traditions.”

Lois set the ornament on the table, intrigued. “So, how are we pulling this off in Metropolis?”

Clark’s grin widened. “There’s a South African group hosting a gathering in Centennial Park tonight. They’ve set up a baobab tree replica, with music and food. Thought we could go after work.”

Lois tilted her head with a smile. “Sounds good to me. Alright, let’s get to work.”

---

After a long day at the Daily Planet, Lois and Clark arrived at Centennial Park, where the baobab tree replica stood glowing softly in the evening light. Families and friends gathered around it, draping colorful ribbons and handmade ornaments on its branches. The rhythmic sounds of marimbas and drums filled the air, lending the scene a vibrant, festive energy.

Lois took it all in, a smile tugging at her lips. “This is incredible,” she said, slipping her arm through Clark’s.

“It really is,” Clark agreed, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “And a perfect reminder that Christmas traditions come in all shapes and sizes - literally.”

They joined the group at the tree, adding ribbons to the lower branches. A woman organizing the event approached with warm smiles and plates of traditional South African treats: flaky koeksisters, spongy malva pudding and crunchy biltong.

Lois sampled the malva pudding and sighed in delight. “This might be my new favorite holiday dessert,” she said, nudging Clark.

“It’s fantastic,” he replied, savoring a piece of biltong.

As the evening unfolded, they listened to stories from South Africans reminiscing about their Christmas celebrations. They spoke of braais, games under the summer sun, and caroling beneath starlit skies. Lois found herself laughing along, swept up in the warmth of the shared memories and the sense of community that bridged continents.

As they listened, an elderly man stepped forward, pointing to the tree, his voice rich with nostalgia. "When I was a boy," he began, "we didn't have much, but Christmas was always special. My father would bring home a small baobab branch, not a proper tree, just something from the bush. My siblings and I would make decorations from scraps of paper and string. We’d hang them on the branch and call it our Christmas tree."

He chuckled warmly. "One year, my father fell ill and no one could find a branch. So my mother turned an old woven basket upside down and said, ‘Here’s your tree.’ We decorated it just the same. We sang, ate what little we had, and told stories late into the night."

The man’s eyes glistened. "Seeing this takes me back and reminds me that sometimes the little things are all we need."

Lois glanced at Clark, his hand resting lightly on her back, and felt a quiet resonance with the man’s words.

When the event wound down, Lois and Clark stepped back to admire the fully adorned baobab tree. Its colorful decorations shimmered under the lights, a striking contrast to the bare December trees surrounding it.

Lois leaned into Clark, resting her head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe how much you’ve done for me this Christmas. You’re outdoing yourself every single day - and still handling two jobs.” Her voice softened, carrying both awe and gratitude.

Clark wrapped an arm around her waist, his tone steady and sincere. “It’s not about outdoing anything. It’s about showing you how magical Christmas can be, no matter where, or how, you celebrate it.”

Lois smiled, her heart full as she gazed at the vibrant tree. “Mission accomplished, fly-boy.”

A faint flutter in her stomach gave her pause, not the usual kind sparked by Clark’s smile. It was fleeting, and she dismissed it as nothing, focusing instead on the warmth of the moment and the man beside her.

As they prepared to leave, Lois glanced back at the glowing baobab tree, its lights casting a soft radiance over the gathering. She placed a hand absently on her abdomen, a quiet thought flickering through her mind.

“Clark,” she said softly as they rose into the air, “thank you for showing me the world through your eyes.”

He smiled, holding her close as the city lights blurred below them. “Thank you for always being willing to see it.”

Lois stirred, her cheek pressed against Clark’s shoulder, their legs tangled beneath the blanket. She blinked drowsily, something stirring her from the depths of sleep. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the furnace, but something felt... off.

Her fingers brushed against his chest and she realized they were gently swaying. Her eyes flew open. “Clark.”

“Hmm?” His voice was thick with sleep, his arms instinctively tightening around her.

“Are we... floating?”

Clark’s eyes opened fully, and his gaze darted to their surroundings. A sheepish smile crept onto his face. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

Lois raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sorry? Care to explain why we’re hovering above the bed?”

He shifted slightly, lowering them back down to the mattress with practiced ease. “I think it happened while I was asleep. When I got back last night, we were talking about the rescue, remember?”

Lois nodded, recalling how he’d quietly slipped into bed after a late-night save, his voice calm as he recounted the details.

“Then we... well...” His cheeks flushed slightly.

Lois smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re still such a boy scout - we made love. I remember. And then I fell asleep halfway on top of you.”

Clark nodded. “I must’ve started floating in my sleep. You know that it happens sometimes. But when I felt you on me, even unconsciously, I held on to keep you from falling.”

Lois laughed softly, shaking her head. “Even when you’re out cold, you’re still protecting me.”

Clark grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Always.”

She sighed, stretching against him. “So fly-boy. Feeling festive today?”

“Maybe.”

---

A bit later Clark was busy at the stove, the rich scent of coffee filling the air. Lois wandered into the kitchen.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Hey, yourself,” Clark replied with a grin, turning to kiss her on the cheek before returning to the stove. “I’ve got something special brewing today.”

Lois smiled, leaning against the counter, watching him with affection as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh? A surprise breakfast?”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “You could say that but I’ll let the advent calendar tell you where today’s tradition is from,” Clark said, turning back to grab the steaming mugs of coffee.

She went to get the bag, immediately opening it as soon as she was back in the kitchen.

Inside was a small figure - carved from wood, with exaggerated features and a mischievous grin. Lois raised an eyebrow as she held it up. “What on Earth is this?”

Clark emerged from the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to Lois, his eyes twinkling. “That’s your clue for today’s tradition.”

She studied the figure, her brow furrowing. “A creepy little goblin? I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Clark chuckled, settling onto the couch beside her. “It’s a Kallikantzaros. In Greek folklore, these mischievous goblins cause trouble during the twelve days of Christmas. They sneak into homes, hide things, break stuff and generally make a mess.”

Lois smirked, sipping her coffee. “Sounds like they’d get along with Perry after Ralph’s latest scoop.”

Clark grinned. “Maybe. But there’s a way to keep them at bay - people believed that a clean, tidy home would ward them off.”

Lois tilted her head, intrigued. “So, let me guess: today’s plan involves cleaning?”

“Part of it,” Clark admitted, setting his coffee down. “We’ll spruce up the house a bit to get it ready for Christmas. But we’re also going to bake some melomakarona and kourabiedes - Greek Christmas cookies. A little cleaning, a little baking, and a lot of fun.”

Lois leaned against the back of the couch, a playful smirk on her face. “Cleaning and baking, and here I was hoping to be swept off my feet and flown to Greece, today, fly-boy.”

He smiled back at her and replied. “Sorry honey but you know our friends and colleagues are coming over for the Christmas dinner and didn’t your newlywed magazine say something about the importance of doing the housework together, to strengthen their bond? Come on, let’s start with a Greek coffee and some yogurt with walnuts, honey and apricots.”

Lois grumbled a bit under her breath. “I prefer a different kind of bonding…”

Clark laughed, reaching for her free hand. “Hey, the Kallikantzaroi remind us to laugh, even in chaos. That’s the real spirit of the tradition - not taking life too seriously.”

Lois softened, her eyes warm as she looked at him. “Alright. But I also wouldn’t mind a bit of extra bonding.”

Clark chuckled, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Deal.”

---

By late afternoon, the warm, spiced scent of the cookies filled the house. Lois took a bite of a still-warm melomakarona, the honey glaze melting on her tongue.

“These are amazing,” she said, closing her eyes as she savored the flavor. “I like this tradition.”

Clark smiled, leaning against the counter. “It reminds us to find joy in the little things and to tackle life’s challenges together, one goblin at a time.”

Lois chuckled, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Well, the house is clean, the cookies are perfect and the goblins are officially out of luck.”

Clark slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “And now we can bond. Just us, no mischief.” He grinned.

Lois leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. Clark’s arms around her and the warmth of their home surrounding her.

Whatever was coming, they’d face it together.