Table of Contents When we last left our happy couple in part 10:
She watched him for a heartbeat before suggesting, on a whim, “What if I skipped class tonight and we go out and get a couple of tattoos?”
She finally had him. He hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on. You’d look great with a tattoo on that bicep. We could get matching tattoos. Maybe in red… Or blue,” she suggested. “Get something that reminds you of home. How would ‘Mom’ look right there?”
“But, Lois. I…”
“Okay, then get a bimbo that dances when you flex.”
“I’m a little too conservative for that.”
“But that’s just it. You’re not just conservative. You’re all talk. You constantly invite. But I notice you never follow through. You make yourself out to be some kind of Don Juan, but you’re really just Cyrano de Bergerac.”
“I think you got that backwards. Wasn’t Cyrano de Bergerac the man that had all the right things to say?”
“You’re missing the point. The point is you never date anyone, Kent.”
“I don’t want to date just anyone, Lois. I want to date you.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever. I’m going to go cut up a frog.”
_________________
And now, Part 11:
There was something special about Lois’s evening shifts. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Lois started work just as everyone else was leaving. It gave her the opportunity to touch base with those who were just finishing their day’s work. Then, in the solitude of the night, Lois would take the ball and run with it.
For all the noise and energy of the day-shift, it was equally still at night. Aside from janitors and security personnel, and of course the few who stuck around to put the paper to bed, Lois pretty much had the floor to herself. And with no morons to get in her way, no one chitchatting about this-and-that, and no management to slow her down, Lois accomplished quite a bit in her seven hours at work.
Fridays she worked just an hour longer to fill out her schedule. The last bit tended to drag as her eyes began to droop. But sometimes a girl had to do what needed to be done.
But this Friday turned out to be less than Lois expected it to be. She had just finished a less-than-satisfactory brown bag lunch, when
he walked over to her desk.
“Hi, Lois,” Clark greeted her, as if his presence at the office at quarter to seven on a Friday night was normal.
“You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself, Kent,” Lois reprimanded him. “I know you’ve made no bones about how you feel about me, but coming in late at night, just to hang out with me and schmooze a bit… It’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”
“Actually, Lois, Jimmy asked me to come in and give him a hand. Every once in a blue moon, Perry gets the urge to clean out the office, and he always manages to rake Jimmy in, as well. Apparently, last time it wasn’t so pleasant, so Jimmy asked me to come in as a mediator.”
“Oh, right.” Lois shrunk back, feeling kind of humiliated at her incorrect presumption. “Knock yourself out.”
“What are you working on?” Clark inquired, as he read over her shoulder. “Hotel costs in Metropolis?”
“It’s nothing really. I just had a little personal work to do, but I’ll be back to the old grindstone, as they say.” Lois shut down her spreadsheet and hastily returned to work.
“Are you planning some kind of a vacation?”
“Not really.” Lois was in no mood to confide. “Just making a few plans for holiday break.” She turned her shoulder to block his view of her computer screen, hoping he would catch the hint and leave her alone.
“Not that, Olsen. It’s a piece of history. That there is an irreplaceable piece of Americana, so get it out of the trash can!”
“That there is a tacky piece of really old, really used junk, Chief. Face it!”
“I better go,” Clark muttered. He jogged over to the Chief’s office to settle everything down.
And so the evening passed with Elvira, Mistress of the Night, standing watch over the newsroom. Between the announcements Perry made each time he unearthed a great find and Jimmy’s tantrums, Lois could hardly research a thing. They sifted through memorabilia from football games and presidential elections and what-nots from newsworthy events over the years. They were the same finds, apparently, that Perry hadn’t thrown away last time or the time before, as Jimmy pointed out in increasingly louder tones.
And through it all, ‘Romeo’ was there to smooth out any misunderstandings between the clans. But he never stopped checking in with Lois, smiling and waving as he saw fit. It was disgusting, really.
And Lois didn’t get a thing done.
~*~
“Should I be jealous?”
Lois jumped half a foot as the unexpected voice breathed over her shoulder.
“What are you doing sneaking up on me in the middle of the night shift?” Lois tried to cover her fluster with bluster.
“Should I be jealous?” Clark repeated, with just a touch of irritation in his tone.
“Probably,” Lois confirmed. “Jealous of who?”
“Of whom,” Clark corrected automatically. “Jealous of whomever it is you’re planning on inviting up for the holidays. An old flame, perhaps?”
“Bite your tongue.”
“A long-lost relative?”
“Nope.”
“A close relative.”
“No, they’re all very long lost. I haven’t done the holiday relative thing in a long, long time. With my relatives, the holidays were never really worth celebrating. So, got any other good guesses?”
“Hmm… A girl friend that you can’t wait to catch up on old times with,” Clark decided.
“Wrong.”
Clark ticked off the possibilities on his fingers, “Not a friend, male or female. Not a relative. Who’s left? An enemy?”
“Hardly. You’ll never guess.”
“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to tell me, then.”
“It’s none of your business,” Lois reminded him.
“True, but I’m still dying to know.”
Lois returned to her work. Clark watched quietly for a long while, content to watch her click away at the keyboard.
“It’s for me, if you must know,” Lois finally confessed.
“For you? I never would have guessed. What do you need a room for? You have a room.”
“They close the dorm for four days over Thanksgiving to give the dorm parents a chance to travel for the holidays.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. I did an article a few years back on families opening up their homes to foreign travelers on Thanksgiving.”
“That sounds like it’s right up your alley: the true spirit of the season; family and food; sharing American values throughout the world; God and country; blah, blah, blah.”
“You got it, only they cut out the blah, blah, blah in editing.”
~*~
Clark took the precariously balanced boxes from his mother’s arm, with a kiss on Martha’s cheek for an added bonus.
“Oh, thanks, Clark,” Martha smiled as she greeted him. “I’m just taking some canning out to the cellar.”
It was a yearly tradition. Martha would can a little here and a little there all autumn long, letting the boxes stack up in the corner of the kitchen until it was nearly impossible to get three people sitting at the kitchen table. Then, during a weekend visit, Clark would help her store it.
Clark sniffed the air and speculated, “Green beans, corn,” he sniffed again, “wax beans, sour kraut,” another sniff, “pickled okra,” and another, “plum jelly, peaches, and peach salsa. You’ve been busy.”
Martha raised her eyebrows in concern. “You can smell all that? Does that mean my seals are bad?”
Clark chuckled. “Nah, it means I peeked before I picked these up. Why don’t you put another box or two on top and save me a trip?”
“Sure, son,” Martha magnanimously agreed. “I’ll even get the door for you.”
They walked together down the cellar steps and, to maintain tradition, began unpacking Mason jars onto the cedar shelves.
“So how’s Lois?” Martha chitchatted.
“She’s fine. Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about her.”
“Oh?”
“Here. I need a new box. Yeah, I was wondering what you would think about me asking Lois to join us for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Really?” Martha’s face lit up. “Things between the two of you are getting that serious that you want to spend holidays together?”
Clark rearranged the Mason jars, trying to keep all the vegetables clustered together.
“Not exactly; although I am looking forward to introducing my girl to my folks—not that she calls herself my girl.”
“You’re babbling, Clark.” Jonathan Kent’s baritone voice preceded him down the stairs.
“I remember how you used to babble when we first met,” Martha gushed. She waited until her husband set down a few more boxes before she folded herself into his embrace. “That’s how I knew you liked me.”
“
That was your first clue? I thought you figured it out when I…” he whispered playfully in her ear.
“Dad? Mom?” Clark’s blush covered not only his cheeks, but extended to the tips of his ears. “Please, remember I can hear every word.”
“I guess he and Lois haven’t reached the naughty stage in their relationship, yet.” Martha winked flirtatiously.
“Mo-o-om,” Clark complained.
“Clark’s planning on inviting her here for Thanksgiving,” Martha filled Jonathon in.
Clark was grateful to get the conversation back on-track. “Yeah, Dad. The dorms close for four days over Thanksgiving, so Lois was planning on staying in Metropolis at a motel. But I thought she might prefer spending that time with a friend. And I know she’s been saving every last dollar for tuition, so this might save her some money, too.”
“But wouldn’t a round-trip ticket to Kansas be more expensive than four days at an average motel?”
“You’re right, Jonathan. And it would have to be two round-trip tickets, since Clark would have to fly with her. Not that I don’t mind you inviting her, but it won’t save you any money.”
“What if I fixed up that old plane so it will actually fly?” Clark suggested.
“Can you do that?” Jonathan wondered.
“All I need is for the engine to make noise, Dad. If I lift up on the structure, I should be able to make it fly just by carrying it along with me.”
“Yeah, but won’t she notice you holding up the roof?” Jonathon pointed out.
“That’s what seatbelts are for, Dad. I’ll just fly against the seatbelt, and that energy will make the plane fly, too. Pass me another box; this one’s empty.”
“I don’t think they
had seatbelts when that old thing was built. Besides, even if it does, I’m not sure those old seatbelts are up to the job. Can you actually fly another person and a plane with you? Have you ever tried that?” Jonathon’s voice was rigid with worry.
“And what about the hole in the floor,” Martha pointed out. “That might make Lois a little bit nervous.”
“Obviously I would have to paint it and patch it up before I took her for a flight,” Clark decided.
“But you don’t have a pilot’s license. The airport will surely notice that. And you don’t have the time to get a pilot’s license,” Jonathan pointed out.
Martha suggested, “Wouldn’t it just be easier if Jonathan and I came to Metropolis? You can fly us up without all the subterfuge.”
“Mom, I can’t ask you to do that. We always have Thanksgiving here at the farm. Besides, Lois didn’t sound like she’d ever had any really good holidays with her family, and I was hoping to show her what a Midwest Thanksgiving felt like.”
“Well, Clark, I think everything changed the moment you called us and said you had met the woman you wanted to marry.” Martha smiled as she continued. “Whether we have it in Metropolis or Smallville, it’s going to be different; but it will still be a Midwestern Thanksgiving no matter where you hold it.”
“Okay, then,” Clark conceded. “Let’s plan on Thanksgiving at my place, just the four of us.”
~*~
Tuesdays and Thursdays were Lois’s favorite days. Lois put in a full eight hours at the newspaper before she had to run off to class. There was a bit of a spring in her step as Lois entered the bullpen on Tuesday morning.
Lois slid into her chair, sorting through the stack of papers she hadn’t put away the night before. She glanced up as Jimmy walked by her desk. “Hi, Jimmy.”
“Hiya, Lois,” he smiled and waved in response.
“What do you mean by
that, Olsen?” Lois barked. It was fun to toy with the kid since he was so easily scared. True to form, his eyebrows shot up. She squared her shoulders and willed her smirk away.
“Just a hello. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good,” Lois firmly decided with a curt nod. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see ‘The Happy Newsman’ looking at her. He’d been watching her all day yesterday. Actually he was always watching her, but this time was different. Kent was definitely up to something.
~*~
“You going to the art exhibit at the Metropolis Museum?” Clark asked as he slid into the seat across from Lois at lunch. He wanted to tempt her, so he had zipped down to the Thai restaurant she had enjoyed so much. They didn’t normally do take-out, but Clark could be persuasive when he needed to be.
“Why would I?”
“Well, it’s kind of an academic thing, so it might get you extra credit for that art class you’re taking…”
“Who says I need extra credit?” Lois retorted.
“And if we went together, it might be fun.”
Lois appraised him carefully. Normally, she whipped out those “no’s” with speed and efficiency, but this time she seemed to be waiting for something. Maybe she was thinking about saying yes.
Instead, she simply sighed and turned back to her sandwich. The bread looked rather soggy and sad.
Clark rattled his bag more than was really necessary as he unpacked the contents. He could almost see her salivate as the aroma wafted across the table.
“I’m getting tired of telling you ‘no’,” she finally muttered.
“Well, then try saying ‘yes’,” Clark encouraged.
She flashed him a glare that said everything.
“Okay, then let’s make an arrangement,” he suggested.
She growled and bit into her sandwich.
“We can at least agree that we’re friends, right?”
“Define friendship,” Lois challenged.
“Lo-is, don’t do this. You know what I’m talking about. I enjoy being with you, and I’m developing a trust in you. And every so often, I get the impression you feel the same way.”
She shrugged, but didn’t quite meet Clark’s eye. They ate in silence for several minutes, while she mulled it over.
“You’re not
bad to work with,” Lois obliged.
“Well, thank you very much.”
Clark took a moment to choose his words carefully. “And as a friend, if you’re really uncomfortable with the idea of dating me, I will respect that. If this is what you want and if the status quo is making you crazy, I promise I won’t ask you out…”
“Thank you.”
“…for a little while. At least, not for a few weeks. Just to give you enough time to get your wits about you again.”
Lois smirked, but Clark enjoyed it as she caught his eye at last.
“But you can’t hold it against me if I ask to do some friendly things with you. Like this lunch, for instance. I went in hungry and ordered way too much. Did you want some?”
Lois didn’t say anything for a second, although she held a flame in her gaze as she considered the fiery feast spread in front of him. Clark held his breath in anticipation. She held out longer than Clark though she would, but she finally acquiesced. Clark made great show of looking for plates and utensils, without mentioning that he had stashed enough for thirty take-out meals the day before.
It was all that Clark hoped for. The food was okay, but sharing it with Lois made it exquisite.
Yet, he still wanted more.
“Oh, and one other thing…” Clark mentioned with an ease he did not feel. “I think you should come to my house.”
“You just promised you would quit asking me out,” Lois pointed out.
“Not for a date,” Clark clarified, “but as one friend doing a favor for another. I want you to stay at my apartment for Thanksgiving break.”
“That’s a downgrade from your previous invitations? You don’t want to date, you want to shack up?” Lois voice shot up in both tone and volume.
Clark tried to sound steady and reassuring. “It wouldn’t be like that, Lois. You can bring a chaperone, if you prefer. Invite a friend who needs a place to stay. Hire a nun. I don’t care. I just hate to see you squirrel away every penny for weeks just to throw it away on some dive that doesn’t deserve it.”
” Ahn nee yoe!” Lois shouted, her eyes afire.
“I take it that’s a ‘no’ in Japanese?”
“Korean. And I learned the moves at the dojo to back it up.”
