Let it Snow Already (the final story of the "Snow" series)
by Alicia U. <lxu2@cwru.edu>
“Kansas is experiencing a near-record heatwave with temperatures in Topeka reaching nearly 55 degrees with just two shopping days until Christmas. This while the East Coast is experiencing record snowfall totals. New York has received almost a foot of snow in the last twenty-four hours, while Metropolis has seen over eighteen inches --“
“Stupid Christmas,” Lois muttered under her breath as she turned off the TV and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. Flopping back against the too-soft, overly fluffy, way too comfortable, dark brown couch, she sighed deeply. Christmas in Kansas had seemed like such a good idea, but with the record heat, her plan for the perfect day was ruined.
“Did you say something, honey?” her husband called from the kitchen.
“Superhearing,” she muttered. Succumbing to the inviting lure of the soft couch, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of freshly baking chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air. “I hate cookies.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped her runny nose.
“Liar.”
She opened her eyes and saw Clark perched against the doorframe holding a tray of cookies without an oven mitt wearing possibly the most annoying grin she had ever seen. Her voice was hoarse when she said, “What?”
His grin grew even wider as he took a few steps into the living room. Holding out a cookie to her, he said, “You know you love cookies.” Cocking his eyebrow, he added, “And my superhearing.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Is that right, Mr. I Can Hold a Steaming Hot Tray of Cookies in the Palm of My Hand?”
He sheepishly looked down at the offending tray. “I’m sorry.” Unfortunately, he didn’t have much ground to stand on to defend himself. Instead, he smiled down at her with the most sympathetic grin he could muster. “Do you want one of my famous Christmas cookies?” He looked down at his hand and grimaced. “Hot from the oven!”
Pulling the blanket over her head and ignoring his proffered cookie, she merely grunted and made it a point to ignore him.
“O-kay.” Setting the tray of cookies on the coffee table, he settled into the armchair next to the couch and grabbed the remote control. He spoke like she wasn’t ignoring him, and that frustrated her more than she wanted to admit. “You want to watch anything? I think ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ is on.”
She didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t even move the blanket away from her face to look at him. “A-choo!” Screwing her face into a scowl, she muttered a few choice curse words under her breath.
“Lois, are you okay?” He grabbed the edge of the blanket and tugged just hard enough so that it slipped through her fingers and away from her face.
“A-choo,” was her only answer. She rolled her eyes and scowled as she realized that he would never understand what she was feeling.
Scrunching his face in confusion, he dared to ask, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“It was just a sneeze, Clark,” she said in a scratchy voice. She frowned. “I have a cold. Runny nose. Headache. Fever. And --” She wrinkled her nose and covered her mouth with her hand. “-- A-choo!”
“Sneezing,” he finished lamely.
“It’s not a national disaster or anything Superman should be worried about.” She sniffled and brought her hand to her nose.
Clark quickly grabbed a tissue from a box near the couch and held it out to her. “Here, honey.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t take it out on you because you can’t get sick.” She folded the tissue in her fingers and frowned. “It’s not your fault that Superman has never had as much as a sniffle.” When he didn’t say anything she exclaimed, “I hate this.” Then she dissolved into a coughing fit.
Clark grabbed the Kleenex box and placed it into Lois’s waiting hands. “That sounds horrible. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I think I’m allergic to farms ”
“Oh, come on, honey. You’re the one who wanted to spend Christmas in Smallville with my folks.”
She sighed. “I know. But it’s just all wrong.” She amended what she had said. “I mean, I love your parents. Everything with them is perfect. The tree, the family atmosphere, the joy . . . but . . .”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Letting out a sigh, she said, “I’m sorry, it’s just that this Christmas isn’t turning out at all like I had planned. I guess I pictured some kind of Courier and Ives Christmas in Smallville.” She ran a hand across her face, trying to brush away some of the vestiges of her recent sneezing fit. “I’m sick and cranky. It’s not exactly romantic.”
He didn’t try to argue, and that made her a little angry. But she was sick and cranky. And this Christmas was anything but romantic.
Gazing at the gaily decorated house with holly, poinsettias and a festive tree, Lois’s frown grew deeper. “Maybe I’m allergic to Christmas cheer.”
“Christmas cheer?” he asked, his eyebrows raised skeptically. Not bothering to argue, he changed the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a cookie? They’re getting cold.”
“Don’t change the subject!” She raised her hand as if to swat him in the chest, but then she changed her mind. Her eyes drifted to the tray on the table. “What kind of cookies?” A grin played on the corners of her lips, threatening to erase her sour expression. “A good one?”
“Your favorite,” he said softly, leaning far over the edge of the armchair so he could meet her gaze. Then, he grabbed the tray of cookies off the coffee table and pulled them just out of her gasp.
After a moment’s groan, Lois stood, defying the sick countenance she’d shown just moments before. Her motions were all smooth and cat-like until she reached up and put her hand on his chest seductively. “Mmmm, my favorite?” she purred.
“Double chocolate chip.”
“My favorite,” she agreed. Without breaking eye contact, she took a cookie from the tray and took a bite. “Delicious.” Then she licked away a stray crumb from her lip.
Clark put the tray down on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around Lois. “You feeling better?”
She nodded wordlessly, a smile playing on her chocolate-covered lips.
His voice grew deep and husky as he said, “Let me taste some of that.” Slowly, she brought the cookie to his mouth, and let him take a little bite. Then he brought his mouth down to hers. Tracing her lips with his tongue, he grunted, “Delicious.” Then she let him press his lips against hers in a chocolaty kiss.
When their lips came apart, Lois whispered, “So maybe I’m not allergic to Christmas cheer.”
“I’m glad.” He pulled her close and she rested her head against his chest.
“I guess I was -- not to be stereotypical or anything -- dreaming of a white Christmas.
With a slight grin, he said, “We can be back in Metropolis in a few minutes.”
Lois pouted. “No. I don’t *want* to go back to Metropolis.”
“You want it to snow in Smallville,” he said, stating the obvious.
She nodded. “I just wanted Christmas to be perfect. But now I’m sick, it’s hot, there’s no chance of snow --"
“-- Lois, believe me, this is perfect.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and traced a finger across her cheek. “More perfect than I could have ever imagined.”
“It is?”
Before he touched his lips to hers again, he whispered, “It’s with you.”
At that point, as their lips touched, snow no longer mattered.
The End
Author's Note: I have had this story on my computer literally for years. I remember writing it in the winter of 2004, but I never getting around to editing it or posting it. I found it while I was cleaning files after a recent hard drive crash. While it isn't my best work, I am posting it anyway so I don't lose it in the event of another crash.
