Here's submission number 5. Keep 'em coming!
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“Clark, this is ridiculous. I’m not going to attend this hodunk parade dressed as your corn queen lover.” Lois shoved the bulky costume back at her on again, off again boyfriend and furrowed her brows. “That just sounds wrong on so many levels. Corn lover? It’s like a double entendre in a bad romance novel.”
Clark raised his eyebrows and smiled. “And you would know about those bad double entendres because…?”
“Don’t start with me, Kent.”
The foliage in Smallville had transformed into a riot of fall colors, and the sharp wind carried the unmistakable scent of October to their pink tinged noses. Clark looped a friendly arm around Lois’ shoulder and she leaned her head against his gray sweatshirt.
“I can’t believe they nominated you as the Smallville Corn King. I mean really, you don’t even live here anymore.” Lois looked up at Clark, eyeing his profile. “But that costume, good lord. Do they really expect you to dress up as an ear of corn?”
Clark turned his face down so he could look at her and nodded. A lopsided smile crossed his face. “Which brings us back to you being my Queen. What do you say, Lois? It’s just for a night.”
“I think the thrill of being chosen as the idol for ritual crop worship has gone to your head Clark.”
“Come on, you know you want to,” he wheedled. A smile lit his face. “I’ll buy you a treat. Something chocolate.”
Lois gave him a withering stare. “What am I, a dog? Clark, there’s no way you’re going to get me to dress up as an ear of corn and be paraded down Main Street. I can’t believe you’re even considering it.”
Clark looked wounded. “But Lois, no one has ever refused a Corn King nomination in the past,” he thought wildly, “ever! I’d disappoint the entire town!”
“Can’t a Corn King go stag? I’ll watch and snigger from the audience.”
Clark released her shoulder and threw up his hands in exasperation. “Corn Kings *always* have Corn Queens, Lois. It’s a tradition. If you don’t want to be my Queen, I’ll just get someone else to.”
“Fine by me. What self respecting woman would allow themselves to be hauled into a corn costume? Where did the town even find those things?”
Letting out an exasperated groan, Clark marched ahead, his feet crunching on the fallen leaves and gravel of the path. Biting back a smile at Clark’s petulance, Lois hastened her step up to a jog and caught up with him.
“But you’re going to look so cute in that corn costume,” she said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
He answered with a mutinous glare, which he couldn’t hold for longer than a minute before he burst out laughing, tugging her to him once again.
Three hours later, Lois was peeking into the shops in the main square while Clark chatted with one of his old high school friends, the new sheriff Rachel Harris. She paused in a family run antique store, admiring a fine set of china.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice said from behind her. She jumped, but then turned to greet the woman who had spoken. She looked to be about 65, and had kindly gray eyes. “Are you the little lady who came down here with our Clark?”
“Little lady, that’s me,” she said, keeping a wry smile on her face. There had been a time where she might have cheerfully murdered anyone who dared call her such a thing, but since her first visit she had finally realized that to survive in small town America, she had to stop assuming people were out to get her. “How do you know Clark?”
“I taught that boy how to spell his first word,” the lady said cheerfully. “He was so cute back then, what with that cowlick and big brown eyes. He had half the teachers at the school charmed by the time he was old enough to realize what the word meant.”
Lois rolled her eyes good naturedly, shooting a look at her affable partner outside the window. “He still does that, I’m afraid.”
The woman smiled, the crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes becoming more pronounced with the motion. “But that’s why he’s been nominated the Smallville Corn King. I’ve never heard a cross word from him. I assume you’re going to ride with him as Queen?”
Lois almost snorted, but choked it back, realizing that the woman was indeed serious. “No, I told him to ask someone else. I don’t think I’d do well in one of those silly costumes.”
The woman look scandalized. “But it’s tradition!”
Fighting back a twinge of annoyance, Lois tried to keep the smile on her face. “Yes, but well, traditions change.”
“You won’t judge the pumpkin carving contest with him?”
Lois shook her head.
“What about the costume contest? You won’t be the judge of that either?”
Biting her lip and raising her brow, Lois shook her head again.
“So you’re not going to kick off the festival by slow dancing to the first song? Goodness me, there are quite a few ladies in this town who wouldn’t mind taking your place if you don’t mind. Clark’s quite the dancer.”
Lois’ eyes narrowed imperceptivity as she mentally scowled at her sudden rivals for her hayseed boyfriend’s affections. “I’m sure Clark will dance that first dance with me.”
The woman shook her head vehemently. “Of course he won’t! It’s the Corn King and Corn Queen’s first dance! What would it look like if he’s caught dancing with some other woman? It would be a scandal of the highest order.”
Feeling her hackles beginning to rise, Lois desperately tried to claw back the biting words on the tip of her tongue. She had promised Clark she would be good this time. But oh, it would be so nice to just put this nosy, tradition-obsessed woman in her place.
“And then there’s the kissing booth; the Corn King is always in high demand. And since it’s Clark,” the woman tittered, “I’m sure he’ll pull in quite a haul.”
Kissing booth? Clark hadn’t told her about that. What, were there not enough haylofts for teenagers to utilize? They had to assuage their raging hormones by shacking up with her partner?
“Excuse me, I have to go,” Lois said abruptly. Her stomach was twisting sharply at the thought of all the festivities. She gave the hapless woman a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and scrambled out of the shop.
Clark was waving as Rachel drove away, the wind ruffling his hair as he turned, as if searching for her. When his eyes lit upon her, a smile that, unlike hers, completely brightened his face formed. “Hi Lois,” he said happily, rushing the last few steps to meet her. “Did you have a good time looking around?”
She opened her mouth to complain about the woman, but then shut it after a moment of hesitation. He had begged her to come to his hometown with an open mind, and so far she hadn’t really listened to his request. She knew her good-natured teasing about his nomination didn’t faze him, but she really wasn’t attempting to keep her promise. Perhaps she should just go ahead and tell him she’d be his Queen. Her tight smile lessened somewhat as she thought about the activities the woman had mentioned. They sounded a little hokey, but doing hokey things with Clark always guaranteed her a good time. Besides, she liked the thought of judging the contests. She had always had a keen eye.
“Since I know you would rather perish than get within ten feet of the Smallville Corn Queen costume,” Clark began, his eyes twinkling, but Lois interrupted him.
“Oh, Clark, you know I was thinking about that and--”
“I’ve asked Rachel to oblige me and she agreed,” he gave her a big smile, oblivious to her change of expression as he pulled her into a hug. Her voice was muffled in his big shoulder, as the words sunk in. He released her a moment later, and laced his fingers through hers. “It’s a good thing she said yes, huh? I’d hate to be the first Corn King in history to be stood up by his date.”
“I guess so,” Lois mumbled, her mind assaulted by visions of Clark and Rachel dancing cheek to cheek, one of his strong hands resting possessively on the small of her back while the other gently held her palm to his heart.
He stopped at her tone, turning and tilting her chin up with one light finger. “Are you okay, Lois? You seem a little down.”
“I’m fine Clark,” she snapped, a little more roughly than she had intended. “I’m fine,” she reiterated softly a moment later, shooting him an apologetic look.
He looked unsure, but she pasted a smile on her face and pulled him along. “Come on, I’ll race you home.”
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After dinner, Lois settled under Clark’s arm, staring unseeingly at the television which Clark kept up a lively banter with his father. If anyone noticed that she had been more subdued since their trip to the square, they tactfully did not mention it.
The more she thought about Clark and Rachel together, the more she told herself that being jealous was ridiculous, the heavier it weighed on her mind. She knew she was being difficult. For heavens sake, she had told Clark to go find a replacement for her. But all of a sudden watching from the sidelines as Clark took part in something obviously important to the town stung. When a silence had fallen over the room, she noticed that Clark’s parents were quietly sitting together, watching the TV. She glanced up and saw Clark looking at her, a soft, hazy look in his eyes.
Her heart beating a little faster in her chest, she leaned up and planted a tiny kiss on the underside of his jaw, pausing for a brief moment to inhale the scent there. His hand tightened against her shoulder in response, and then he lazily began stroking her arm.
Letting out a soft sigh, Lois melted back into his strong arms, the fire and low volume of the TV dulling out her restless thoughts until she drifted off to sleep in his arms.
Lois woke the next morning in an unfamiliar room, in an unfamiliar bed. She straightened, gazing around the room in a sort of stupor, until she realized that she was in Clark’s bed, in his room.
Another quick look and she let out a sigh of relief. Alone.
A flash of color caught her eye, and she smiled as she saw a single white rose on her nightstand. She picked up the rose, inhaling its fragile scent and unfolded the letter beneath it.
Dad and I went out to go run some errands and do some fix-ups around the farm. Mom’s around, and I’m sure she’ll find some way to embarrass me by the stories she tells. I hope you had sweet dreams. I’ll be back in a few hours. –Clark
Lois smiled at the note, and then stretched. It was then the thought of the night’s festival reared in her memory and her smile turned into a grimace. It still nagged her, though she had hoped that a good night’s sleep would quell such doubts.
An idea soon formed in her head, however, and she smiled at her reflection. She knew just what she’d do. She hoped Martha had a sewing machine handy.
-----
Clark searched the crowds milling around the town square, letting out an exasperated sigh. He had seen neither hide nor hair of Lois for hours, and though he had enjoyed Rachel’s company thus far, he still missed her. Mrs. Sears, his neighbor tapped his shoulder and told him that they were just about ready for him and Rachel to judge the costume contest. Clark nodded at her, and then wound his way through the crowds to find Rachel.
Their “costumes” were not the hideous things Lois had made them out to be, he thought wryly. He had a king’s crown balancing precariously on his head, and the rest of his attire was simply jeans and a flannel shirt. Rachel was dressed in a blouse a becoming shade of blue and a long jean skirt that flared at the knee.
Some of the neighborhood volunteers lined up the people who had entered the costume contest in order of height. There were children and adults alike, dressed in costumes ranging from the traditional vampires and witches to an elderly gentleman wearing a gleaming outfit that appeared to be made of tinfoil. He cautiously asked what the man was supposed to be, and beat a hasty retreat when the man let out an indignant reply.
“A trashcan, of course!”
A trashcan. Right. It was going to be a long night. He searched in vain for Lois in the crowds, but he couldn’t spot her. Rachel started at one end of the line of costumes and he took the other, smiling encouragingly at the children and chuckling at some of the more extravagant costumes.
He paused when his peripheral vision caught a flash of bright green and yellow.
His eyes slid over to the left, completely bypassing whoever he was standing in front of to judge. Impossibly long legs were encased in green stockings that disappeared into a green miniskirt. He raised one incredulous eyebrow as he recognized those shapely legs and continued his perusal of her costume. She had a long yellow shirt on, with another green jacket that he recognized as his own draped over her shoulders. She had a hat with some sort of bizarre tassels on the top, and his jaw dropped.
He had no idea what she was supposed to be, but she sure knew how to stop a guy cold. Seeing her with that short skirt and his long shirt was incredibly arousing, though that line of thought was tempered by her bizarre headgear.
“Lois?” he finally managed to gasp out, wondering if perhaps this was not a clone or some other logical explanation. There was no way in hell Lois Lane would be caught dead in this bizarre outfit, on display at a country corn festival.
“Yes Clark?”
His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “What are you supposed to be?”
She gave him a slow smile that curled his toes, even dressed as strangely as she was. “Clark, I rethought everything and I realized that I didn’t like the thought of not being your Corn Queen. I know you asked Rachel, and that’s okay,” she said quietly. “But I thought I’d get in the spirit of the holidays. I’m an ear of corn, get it?”
Thinking he might rupture some vital blood vessel if he kept his laughter inside even one second longer, Clark let out a long burst of laughter.
“You’re incredible. But you sure aren’t going to win any costume contest prize with that thing.”
At her exaggerated pout, he leaned in and spoke too quietly for the prying ears around him to hear. “But when we get home…” He let his voice trail off as he gave her a wink. “You’d better save me a dance, my queen.”
