How the Guest Rooms Came to BeI blame this all on Queen of the Capes, who dared me to write this after something I said in irc (followed shortly by a double triple CAT dare, which just barely trumped Sue S.’s double dog dare). I also blame carolm and Sue S. for their help in her darings.
It all started because I was wondering about the room situations in their brownstone. In one episode, they didn’t seem to have any guest rooms, but at the end of the season, both sets of parents stayed over, and one thing led to another…
Sigh. Darn those unsuspecting comments that gets stories written
A billion thanks to carolm, who looked this over and gave some good advice and awesome betaness. (Hug hug!)
Set shortly after
Lois and Clarks.***
It had taken Lois two weeks after her in-laws left to not attack Clark like a rabid weasel in heat after every two words he said. This, of course, made it very hard at work, but somehow they made it through without any reprimands for PDA. After those two weeks, she managed to keep her wanted aggressions to their home. Again, just barely.
That is why it took Lois three and a half weeks to broach the subject that she had been wondering about whenever she and her husband weren’t… otherwise engaged.
“Honey?” she asked as they settled onto the sofa, a bottle of wine and a cozy blanket to share between them. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“About what?” Clark poured them both a glass of wine before handing her one. “Honey, I told you then and I’ll tell you now, I may not like it, but its okay. I understand.”
She had told Clark not long after he had gotten safely home (but long enough after the other Clark had gotten safely back to his home) about what had almost happened on the couch. He had been hurt, of course, but understanding. Of course, she doubted he would almost kiss someone he knew wasn’t his wife. Of course not, he was Superman. He had seemingly gotten over it pretty quickly, but she still felt guilty for what she had done. Almost done.
“No, it’s not about that. Well... Well, no, it’s not.” She thought for a moment as she thought about what exactly she was trying to say. “Well, it’s about the guest room.”
“What about it?”
“Well, we don’t exactly have one.”
“Lois,” he chuckled softly, settling back against the cushions, pulling her tight against him. “We have
two guest rooms.”
“Correction; we have two
storage rooms that were originally
meant to be guest rooms,” she pointed out. “And if we get them fixed up the way they’re supposed to be, we could maybe have friends stay over. You know, when we get friends that aren’t trying to kill us. Or your parents could sleep somewhere that isn’t a futon in the den. Or heck, maybe one day, both your parents
and my parents will be here at the exact same time,
and my parents were back together or even if they weren't, wouldn’t it be convenient to have a place where they all can stay and not make it seem like we’re playing favorites?”
“Okay, valid point, but honey, where would we put all of the stuff we have in there?”
“Well, maybe we could consolidate. Or there is still quite a bit of room left in the attic and basement crawl-spaces. We could put whatever we don’t use in those, and find places for the rest.” She became momentarily distracted as she played with his fingers. They were such nice, long fingers. “Or, you know, we could keep having your parents sleep in the den. And if my parents ever do come over when Jonathan and Martha are here, we could just toss a mattress on the roof.”
Clark chuckled at that. “Okay, honey, we’ll get the guest bedrooms set up soon. Heaven forbid your parents should sleep with the pigeons.”
She giggled at the image of Ellen Lane squawking along with the distressed fowl, waving her pillow as she clutched her night coat tightly against her throat. “It would be funny, though,” she admitted softly.
“That it would be,” he agreed, still laughing softly.
Lois sighed happily. She loved how freely his laughter came, how quick he was with a smile. It was something that had been so strikingly different from him and the Clark that had traveled through alternate timelines to help them in their time of need.
“And if the other Clark ever comes back, he can stay in a room and not the couch,” she said, thinking out loud. “It would be nice not having to trip over him every time I came downsta – EEK!”
The ‘eek’ hadn’t been caused by suddenly spotting vermin scuttling across the carpet. It had resulted in the sudden absence of her husband’s solid wall of a chest behind her, and her subsequent landing against the couch cushions where he had been seconds before. Fortunately, she had drunk most of her wine before this point, so only a few drops landed harmlessly against the exposed skin of her arm, and not on the upholstery or old worn t-shirt she had stolen from Clark’s side of the dresser.
For a brief, disoriented moment, she tried to figure out what had happened as her head spun slightly at her abrupt change from being vertical to horizontal. She was vaguely aware of a dark streak zipping from the upstairs to the down and back again in rapid succession as she slowly sat back up.
“Okay,” her husband said with a clap of his hands and a wide grin as he came to a stop in front of the couch. “The rooms are cleared, the attic and basement crawlspaces reorganized and packed full, and all we need to do is go out to get some furniture and we’ll be all set.”
“Clark,” she proclaimed in disbelief, leaving the couch to stand in front of him, arms winding around his shoulders. It seemed as though, no matter what he tried to tell her, her husband was perhaps feeling a little insecure about what had almost happened a few weeks ago. “I highly doubt we’ll be getting any inter-dimensional visitors right this second.”
“Yeah, well, you never know. Mr. Wells seems to enjoy popping up at the most inopportune times sometimes, if you hadn’t noticed.” As to prove his point, he slowly leaned forward, stopping mere inches away from her lips, looking around the room for interloping time travelers.
Giggling, she grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him down the rest of the way, where they proceeded to be uninterrupted for several minutes.
Finally, Lois pulled away and rested her head in that spot of his shoulder that was just perfect for snuggling into.
“I love my Clark,” she stated simply, sweetly, both possessive and assuring him that out of all the Clark Kents she had met, he was her favorite.
-end
Moral of the Story: Get your spare rooms set up as soon as possible. You never know when doppelgangers from alternate universes will shack at your place while a loved one is hurtling through time and space, possibly never to return, and you find yourself almost kissing someone because they’re very similar to someone else. Save yourself from the angst! Get to the attacking each other like rabid weasels in heat sooner!
