A/N: 
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Pride, Prejudice and Jimmy Choos[-5-]
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Hearing the sound of tires on the gravel driveway, Lois froze, rendered immobile by the sudden uncertainty of which way to move. It had been the proverbial rare cool day in hell—Martha and Clark had left her alone on the farm while they went out to buy feed or do some other earth-tiller focused duty, and she had taken advantage of the time to do absolutely nothing. Now that they were apparently back, she was trying to figure out the best place to hide in order to prolong her ‘mental health experience’.
The sound of a slamming car door spurred her into action, and she dove under the covers of her bed, thinking that if she appeared to be asleep Clark wouldn’t make her work. If she weren’t already starting to see the sign of calluses, she might have thought she was getting paranoid.
She crouched deeper under the covers as footsteps sounded on the steps of the porch, and then clinched her eyes shut when they were followed with knocking.
“Lois?”
She cracked one of her eyes open at the sound of her name when she realized that the voice didn’t belong to Clark or his mother. The other eye quickly followed suit when she realized who it was.
If Chloe Sullivan was startled by the sudden appearance of her cousin when the door jerked open, she was even more flabbergasted when said cousin threw herself into her arms, knocking them both into the creaky porch railing.
Chloe struggled to get out of the death hold Lois had on her. “Lo… can’t… breathe.”
“Oh, right,” Lois breathed, loosening her hold but not releasing it. “Sorry, I’m just *really* glad you’re here.”
Chloe chuckled and returned the hug, now having the use of her arms. “It’s good to see you too.”
Lois finally stepped back, quickly glancing around before pulling Chloe back through the door of the cottage.
“Wow,” Chloe said as she took in the room’s décor… and Lois’s messy contribution to it. “And I thought what you did to that hotel in Prague was bad.”
Lois frowned at the room. “What? I straightened up a little this morning…” she said, bending to pick up a few clothing items from the floor.
“I’m teasing,” Chloe answered, moving further into the room and sitting down on the couch. “Why is there a rooster in your window?”
Lois sighed. “Remember the living alarm clock I told you about?” She shoved clothes into her suitcase and flopped down next to the petite blonde before waving an arm around. “Can you believe Sam and Tess did this to me?”
Chloe arched an eyebrow and hid a smirk. “That bad?”
“Worse,” Lois replied dramatically. “I feel like I’ve been cut off from my entire being. I don’t know what’s going on in the world… I don’t know if Pink’s hair is blonde, if Brangelina adopted an octobaby, or if… hey, did you bring me a new phone?”
When Chloe pulled a small wrapped package out of her purse, Lois launched at her again. “You are my own personal hero,” she said, squishing the younger woman’s face between the palms of her hands. Leaning in, she kissed Chloe’s forehead and then abruptly pushed her away, immediately attacking the wrapping on the box and pulling out the new iPhone.
“Geeze, I have to reset all my favorites,” Lois said as she furiously tapped buttons on the screen. “What have I missed? What have they been saying about me? Is the Hawaii spa story sticking? Lola can *not* be connected to a farm—it’ll ruin my image.”
Chloe blinked and frowned. “Wait… your image or Lola’s?”
Lois glanced up at her briefly before returning her attention to the phone. “Lois’s, Lola’s, whatever.”
“When did you start talking about yourself in the third person?”
“Chloe!”
Raising her hands, the blonde finally gave her cousin what she wanted. “Well, no one has tied *Lola* to a farm but since there has been no sighting of you—I mean, her—on any of the islands, people started to question if you were really there…”
Lois narrowed her eyes. “And by people you mean?”
Chloe nodded, already knowing what Lois had assumed. “Jiminez Olsen.”
Lois shifted in her seat to fully face Chloe. “What. Did. He. Say?”
“Relax. Tess is not the best in the business because she can yodel… She’s got Lola firmly under control as far as the mainstream press is concerned; the only wildcards are those underground slugs that buy into Himee’s rumors.”
“Rumors which say…” Lois started, indicating with her hands that Chloe should continue.
“Which say that Lola has actually been shacked up with a boytoy.”
Lois scoffed. “When will people let that die? Ollie and I are just friends now.”
Chloe shook her head. “No, not your off- and on-again underwear model.”
Lois took in her cousin’s remorseful look and started to get worried. “Who?” When Chloe appeared reluctant to respond, she pressed, “Chlo-e?”
Hesitating a bit, Chloe answered under her breath in a mishmash of words, “Alexanderluthor.”
Lois sprang to her feet. “What?!”
“The worst part is that his camp is not denying it…”
“Ohhh, that is one dead trustfund twerp when I get out of here. Lola wouldn’t be caught with that overgrown manboy in a billion years.”
Clearly amused by her reaction, Chloe entered, “He’s kinda cute if you look past the…”
“BILLION, Chloe.”
Chloe pressed her lips together and forced her expression to sober. “So… I’m looking at your so-called ‘Hell on Earth’ but it seems nice to me. It can’t be all that bad. Dude ranches are supposed to be fun.”
“Oh, sure—if you define fun as a serving torture with a side of hay.”
Ignoring her, Chloe continued, “Tell me… is there a cowboy?”
Lois paused in her pacing around the room and faced her cousin; an indulgent smirk suddenly splitting across her face. “Boy is there,” she gushed. Then she frowned. “But he’s such a jerk.”
Chloe’s eyebrows raised in surprise and disbelief. “Really?”
Not noticing her cousin’s look, Lois nodded. “Absolutely. If I could take the body and erase the personality, I’d never walk again.”
“Lois!”
“I’m just saying, Chlo, he puts *Ollie* to shame, and that’s saying something.”
“Well… wow, I guess.”
“But he apparently hates Lola, and Lois is not too fond of him either.”
“Okay, I thought it was strange earlier, but the third person switching is really getting to be disturbing.”
Shrugging, Lois glanced out the window and caught sight of the Kent’s red truck turning into the drive and parking behind a blue rental car. “Perfect,” she said, smiling and rubbing her hands together. “Let the games begin.”
Standing up to see what Lois was looking at through the window, Chloe’s brow creased. “What are you talking about?”
Spinning around, Lois grabbed the shorter girl by her shoulders, leading her away from the window and toward the door. “Chlo- I know that I begged you to come down here and asked you to bring me the phone, but I need *one* more teeny-tiny favor.”
“Lois…”
“No, listen, I’ve been dying to find something that will *finally* take this farm boy down a notch and this is my chance. I want you stand here and when I say surprise you pop out okay?”
“Lois, I don’t think…”
“Surprise and pop, got it?” Without waiting for an answer she pulled open the door and stepped out onto the porch.
“You have company, Dear?” Martha called from where she was pulling a small bag from the cab of the truck.
Lois crossed the short distance and reached for one of the other bags. Her greeting of “Here, let me help you with that,” drew a look of disbelief from both mother and son.
“Yes,” Lois added in response to Martha’s earlier question, “I have a visitor and when you guys meet her I think you’ll be pleasantly…”
“Gumble!”
Lois watched in stunned surprise as Clark dropped the large bag of feed he had been toting and ran up the porch steps to sweep Chloe up in a big hug. “Gumble?” she mouthed to herself, setting the bag she was holding back down and peering at the two people on the porch. “I didn’t say surprise yet.”
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Twenty minutes later, Clark and Chloe were sitting on the porch swing at the main house sipping lemonade.
“I’m still finding it hard to believe that Lois is your cousin,” Clark remarked, glancing in the direction of the cottage. “You two are *so* different.”
Chloe shrugged. “Not *that* much.”
“No, *really* different,” he assured her. “Her dad paid my mom an obscene amount of money to deal with her just so he wouldn’t have to.”
“That’s not quite how it went,” Chloe mumbled around her glass.
Clark didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, well, she looked pretty pissed that we already knew each other.”
“I wouldn’t call it pissed, per se…”
“Chloe, she kicked you out.”
Chloe smirked. “I don’t think the reveal went quite the way she planned. When I reminded her that I grew up in Smallville, she said that she hadn’t thought that was a real place. She thought it was part of my press junket.”
Clark laughed. “Where did she think she’s been all this time if not Smallville?”
“Hawaii,” she said over her laughter, then seeing Clark’s expression, amended, “I’m kidding. She just knew she was in Kansas. She’s just not that interested in details.”
“Kansas is pretty big,” he said. “If she doesn’t know where she is, how does she get around?”
“Well as Lo would say, ‘there’s an app for that!’” she mimicked while pretending to hold up a cell phone, causing them both to erupt into laughter.
“Man, I thought she was going to spontaneously combust when her phone died. She practically had a mini-breakdown on the spot. Seriously, Chloe, I can’t see why you’d even claim to be related to someone as spoiled and callow as she is.”
Chloe’s expression sobered a bit. “She hasn’t had it easy…”
“Right, because having maids and chefs and personal trainers at your beck and call make life really hard. I can imagine that walking around with only yourself as your main interest can make you *great* company.”
“Clark, the Lois you see now… She… hasn’t really been herself lately. That’s not the Lois I grew up with.”
“Humph. What was that whole ‘thirty-five’ thing she yelled at you about?”
“That’s how long she plans on being mad at me for.” At his confusion, she continued to explain, “When we were younger, Lois decided that life was too short to spend it angry, so she decides how long to be mad and then lets it go.”
Clark silently pondered that for a minute. “That sounds… surprisingly mature,” he finally said.
Chloe tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Lois is quite complex.” When his answering expression showed how much in doubt of that fact he was, she lifted her hands in defeat.
“Enough talk about your pain of a cousin,” Clark said, changing the subject, “let’s talk about Lola Dakota.”
Chloe smirked at the irony. “Lola? Why?”
“Because the fact that Lola Dakota is a total train wreck essentially has caused your career to skyrocket! You have to be pretty excited about that.”
Chloe and her family had left Smallville when she was sixteen so she could pursue her music career since a small farming community in the rural ranges of a land-locked state wasn’t the best place to make it big. She had been moderately successful for quite a while, but hadn’t really hit the mainstream until recently. Her long-running gig as Lola Dakota’s opening act had meant that she had become the main event in front of a national audience when Lola hadn’t appeared for her GMA concert. The descent of Lola Dakota had become the precursor to Chloe Sullivan’s launch.
“Maybe a little,” she replied, obviously conflicted.
“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for Lola Dakota,” Clark growled. “She walked into this situation on her own.” Shaking his head, he turned and gave her a bright grin. “I’m just really happy for you. You really deserve all the attention you’re getting now.”
“Well, thanks,” Chloe responded, blushing.
“Just don’t go and get all Hollywood on us and forget where you came from.”
“I’m here aren’t I?” she shot back, laughing. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen what fame can do to a person. I’m good.”
“I’m glad.” Clark placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her short squeeze. “Did I tell you that ‘Follow Me’ is my new favorite song?” he asked as he pulled his arm away.
“Clark, you say that about every new song I come out with.”
He shrugged. “Okay, so I’m biased. I’ll admit that, but that song really is my favorite of all time. The phrasings and the way you went sotto during the bridge… Amazing. Really.”
Chloe tilted her head. “Listen to you sounding all Mr. Holland’s Opus. When did you go all Music Theory 101 on me?”
“I started getting interested in it about the time you moved,” he said sheepishly. “Seriously, it’s pretty powerful—the lyrics, I mean. It’s sad but hopeful, you know?” He grinned at her. “Of course you know. You wrote it.”
“Yeah,” Chloe agreed, looking away, “I love that song too.” Shaking her head to renew her thoughts, she grinned at her old friend. “Well, everyone knows what I’ve been up to the last few years, but what about you? I’m kind of shocked to see you still on the farm. When I moved away sophomore year you were already itching to get out of this place.”
Clark’s gaze turned toward the fields as he nodded but didn’t reply.
“And now?” Chloe pressed, unsure of what his solemn demeanor indicated. “Graduation was, what, three years ago? What happened to going to Mr. I’m-going-to-college-and-seeing-the-world?”
“Money got tight,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug.
“I thought you were offered full-rides to like three different schools for football.”
Clark turned back to face her with an amused expression. “How is it that you know all that stuff when I only get a rushed phone call once a year on my birthday and a card at Christmas?”
Chloe ducked her head. “Okay, low blow. I hear the insinuation that I have not been as communicative as you would like. All I can say is life in the fast lane is really… crazy. But that’s not an excuse and I promise to do better.” She grimaced and peeked up at him, putting up her pinkie for insurance. “Deal?”
“I’m holding you to that,” Clark replied, curling his own pinkie around hers to shake. “So who is feeding you your information about my life?”
Chloe shrugged. “I’ve got to protect my sources,” she teased, “but I think you can draw some comfort from the fact that my material is obviously outdated. So what *did* happen with the football thing?”
Clark pressed his lips together grimly. “After Dad…” he paused and gave a halfhearted one shoulder shrug. “I just needed to stay around. The world just got so much larger and threatening when he wasn’t around.”
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said softly, reaching out to place her hand over his where it rested on his knee.
They sat there silently caught up in their own thoughts until another voice interrupted the peace.
“So what the hell is a Gumble anyway?” Lois demanded, clomping up the steps and positioning herself against the railing in front of the swing.
Clark rolled his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to let it go after thirty-five minutes,” he mumbled.
Lois shot a glare at Chloe. “You told him?” Then she turned back to face Clark. “For your information, what I let go of is none of your business.”
He feigned being heartbroken at the response. “Awww, and here I was hoping that you’d finally ended your affair with my rooster.” He nodded behind her, and both Lois and Chloe turned to see that, sure enough, the farm’s rooster had followed her across the yard.
Lois groaned and lifted a hand to cover her closed eyes, realizing that the presence of the bird lessened the effect of her witty comebacks. “Can I help it if Rosco is the only one on this farm who appreciates me?” she finished lamely.
Chloe took in their banter with amusement as she looked from one to the other with a raised brow.
“I wish you would stop calling him Rosco,” Clark returned, annoyed.
Lois shrugged. “You never told me his name.”
“That’s because he doesn’t have a name.”
“Then I don’t see why it’s a problem that I named him!” Lois answered. She turned to face the rooster, “You’re welcome, Rosco.”
Chloe frowned and held up a hand. “Wait- Rosco, like Chicken and Waffles Rosco? Isn’t that more of a description than a name?”
Clark scoffed. “You would think so, right? But this one over here,” he gestured toward Lois with his thumb, “practically set up a picket line when she was asked to go out and catch dinner.”
Glaring at him, Lois addressed Chloe’s question for herself. “Rosco’s name started out as a threat when he tried to eat my shoe.” She glanced at her cousin before continuing, “We’ve since come to a shaky truce.” She faced Clark again. “And as for the picket line deal… I simply refused to be made an accessory to murder.”
Clark sighed and crossed his arms against his chest. “It was a chicken, Lois.”
Setting her jaw, she gave him a cursory look. “Speaking of names that are fitting descriptions…” she responded in a light—and obviously pointed—tone.
Chloe’s eyes widened. “Um…”
Clark stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Smirking, Lois tilted her head. “Oh, I don’t know. Something that rhymes with ‘Momma’s Boy’… oh, wait… no, that’s it.”
Clark stood from the swing and glared down at her. Her words had struck a nerve but he was unwilling to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. “That might be offensive if it weren’t coming from a naïve, overstuffed, self-indulged, ego-maniac.”
Also rising to her feet, Chloe tried again to interrupt. “Guys…”
“Ohhh! Those are some big words for a manure farmer. You left out the part where you call me a troglodyte ignoramus with a limited capacity for etymology.”
Clark’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Finally, he nodded curtly. “Yeah. I forgot that part.” Then he stepped past her and stomped down the steps, heading toward the barn.
After watching him disappear through the large doors, Lois turned back to see Chloe looking at her assessingly. “What? He gave just as good as he got.”
Chloe tilted her head as she silently agreed. “It’s just… I think college is a sore topic. He didn’t go.”
Lois shrugged. “Neither did I.”
“Yeah, but he *wanted* to,” Chloe challenged. Then, after a beat, she gazed out over the field and amended, “At least he once did.”
Lois seemed to consider that for a brief moment before tossing the thought away. “So what is the Gumble story anyway?”
Chloe blinked as she returned to focus on the moment. “Oh, um, First Grade. Clark was the new kid and I was apparently in my costume phase. Halloween had passed but I still wore the Bumble Bee suit Mom had made for me that year. Anyway, Clark had somewhat of a speech impediment at the time- mix that with the fact that he couldn’t remember my name, and you get Gumble.”
Lois frowned. “That’s… cute, I guess,” she finished, unconvinced. She turned and went down the steps, moving in the direction of the cottage. “You coming?” she called over her shoulder when Chloe didn’t immediately follow.
“Uh, yeah- I’m just going to take these back inside first,” Chloe replied, pointing to the glasses that she and Clark had been drinking from.
“Fine,” Lois said, waving a hand over her shoulder. “You know where I’ll be.”
Chloe nodded before leaning over to pick up the glasses. She opened the screen door leading to the kitchen and stepped through.
“Oh thank you, dear,” Martha said as Chloe set the glasses next to the sink a few feet from where the older woman was chopping vegetables. “You are planning on staying for dinner, right?”
Chloe hesitated, “Well, I don’t want to impose…”
“Nonsense,” Martha entered. “There’s always plenty and it’s not every day that I have a famous recording artist at my table,” she teased.
Chloe laughed, shaking her head. “Can I ask you something?”
Setting down her knife, Martha gave the petite blonde her full attention. “Of course.”
“I mean, you can totally tell me that it’s none of my business, if you want…” she hedged.
“Chloe… spit it out.”
Chloe chuckled. “It’s just… Clark. He’s different.”
Martha’s brow creased but she didn’t respond.
“I mean, he’s still Clark, of course, but when Lois called me and described him, I didn’t believe it. The Clark I grew up with was always so… nice and… meek. Is meek a bad thing to call someone?”
Martha smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay, so meek it is, then, I guess. We hadn’t had a real conversation for a while, but still he was still Clark today—maybe a little… dimmer? You know? Like, I remember him being so bright… Does that make sense? But then, Lois came out, and it was like…”
“…Two angry cats in a bag?”
The two women shared a look and began laughing. After a moment Martha sobered and nodded. “I know what you mean.” She smiled sadly. “Sometimes I think Clark lost his father right when he needed him the most.”
“Oh,” Chloe released under her breath, looking down at the counter, unsure of how to respond. She’d been around death and loss before, but fortunately never directly. She’d heard that people didn’t like for others to apologize though. Sure, Jonathan Kent’s death wasn’t her fault, but she felt the clichéd response hover on her tongue. “I’m…” she started, then faltered.
A hand resting on her shoulder caused her to raise her gaze again. “I know,” Martha said. “I’m glad that you *see* Clark. I’m glad that you care.”
Chloe mentally shook her head at the notion that this woman, who was on the suffering end of the situation at hand, was comforting *her*. “That makes sense, then… that Clark is a little withdrawn,” she finished awkwardly.
“Hmm.”
Chloe couldn’t tell if Martha’s non-syllabic response was conciliatory or not, but figured that either way, it was a cue to back away from the core of that topic. “But he’s not so withdrawn when Lois is around,” she observed lightly.
A genuinely amused smile returned to the older woman’s face and Chloe got the impression that most of its bluster was in response to some unspoken thought bouncing around somewhere in Martha’s mind. “No,” she agreed with a chuckle. “When Lois is around, we see a whole new side to Clark.”
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tbc...
