This is something short and crazy that popped into my bizarre mind… My first attempt at Lois and Clark fanfic, so please be kind but I’d really appreciate the comments and constructive criticism.

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Please Use the Frying Pan
By: True Love
Submitted: May 2010

“Clark Jerome Kent! I cannot believe you!”

The front door to Clark’s apartment banged open, showing a new visitor that was not in the best of moods.

*Well, she isn’t nicknamed Mad Dog Lane for nothing, after all.*

Clark cautiously turned away from a conversation with his mom in the kitchen as she was experimenting with a new recipe she wanted to try out while his father was sent on errands. In might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn that he heard the softest of chuckles coming from his mother. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he turned to face the music… otherwise known as the wrath of his partner. And judging by the tone of voice, the music was going to be loud and clear… and with his mother being able to hear every word of it.

*Great. Just great.*

Lois, of course, did not disappoint him. Before he even had the chance to turn around fully, he realized that she was standing tête-à-tête with him, most likely completely ignoring her surroundings. After all, she wouldn’t be Mad Dog if she didn’t focus on her prey and did everything possible (and impossible, really) until it was well chewed and eventually spit out.

One careful look at her, done out of self-preservation instincts, and he suddenly knew precisely what this was all about. Then again, it might not have been the look he gave her and the murderous glare he got in return. It could have been that she was knocking some sense into him… quite literally, with her long, manicured forefinger directed straight into the middle of his chest.

*Here it comes.*

He should have known that this was coming, that it was inevitable. After all, this was his infuriating, obsessive, I-have-to-have-the-last-word, fantastic, beautiful fiancée he was dealing with. He was quickly brought out of his reverie by the voice of that same fiancée…

“How could you leave me there? You just left me there. All by myself to deal with that – that. Aghh! I can’t believe you.”

Clark couldn’t understand how, but with every word she spoke and every push of her finger, he actually felt something resembling – what was it? – pain. He didn’t have that much experience being mortal and vulnerable, but it certainly had a lot of resemblance to it. Or maybe it was just his psyche playing a trick on him – after all he was Lois’s prey and he must unconsciously be acting like it.

But isn’t it Lois that is probably gonna be hurt by the end of this, poking him with her finger as if she used a knife on a nice piece of pork… besides maybe being backed up against the fridge by said long, but very strong finger was a little too much.

“Lois? Honey?” Apparently today’s endearments weren’t working if Lois’s glowering was any indication. “You know I had to leave to be Superman. There was a fire at an elementary school and you know that takes precedence over—”

He never got to finish though, as she started thumping her whole hand on his chest this time. “But you left me with Bobby Big Mouth and his friend that’s obsessed with chocolate. They were sharing recipes! You know, recipes on everything that includes chocolate! Do you have any idea how big that is? And what do you do?! Leave! Duh. And what does that leave me with? No recipes and no chocolate. They spoke so fast. They must have made up half the words or it’s their special cooking jargon because I couldn’t catch a word they said.

*Wow, did she actually breathe through any of that?*

“You had to have been there. You could have understood what they said and known how to follow their recipes. I can burn water in a frying pan—”

“Pot,” Clark corrected automatically, without any thinking or foresight.

“Whatever!” Whacking her hand on him once again, she finally breathed and exclaimed, somewhat deflatedly, “I can’t believe I missed such a chance.”

Just then, they heard some clattering near them and both turned around. Lois, for the first time it seemed, noticed that they had an audience, as he was well reminded of and sighed with relief, quietly he hoped.

*My mother to the rescue once again.*

“Here, Lois.” Martha’s words seemed to have shaken them both out of their short stupor.

“Huh?” That was the only sound that came from a normally, and very recently, all too well outspoken Lois. A few eye blinks later, “What is this?”

“Oh honey, don’t hit him like that with your hand – you’ll hurt yourself.” Pushing the object into Lois’s somehow numbly outstretched hand, Martha continued, “Here, use the frying pan. It works like a charm.”

At that, Clark’s bottom jaw dropped to the floor of his little kitchen; actually it would have been below the floor if his jaw could stretch that far. Once he collected himself a little bit, though not enough to make out anything coherent, a puzzled squeak came out, “MOM?”

“What? Don’t ‘Mom” me. That frying pan is already way too old to be lying around in this kitchen and it’s just asking to be thrown out. But you know I can’t just do that so this is a perfect opportunity for that to happen without hard feelings or hesitation on my part. I can’t very well use it when it’s bend in all directions, now can I?”

At the look on Clark’s face, Lois just couldn’t take it anymore. Her previous frustration and the reason for coming here in the first place now completely forgotten, she nearly collapsed with laughter, holding onto her sides and bent over in order to have a small chance of not exploding inside out. She could just start imagining what it might have looked like – a young Clark running away from his poor mother who was waiving a frying pan at him and telling him she was going to get him sooner or later. After all, he wasn’t a very ordinary boy, or man now.

*So why should she use a frying pan on her personal Man of Steel all by herself when listening to his mother talk so casually about it is by far more satisfying? Maybe there are some pictures? Or stories? She should bribe Martha sometime to get all the juicy stuff on her fiancé.*

*But then again, it should be quite fascinating to see the frying pan meet the buns of steel at some point in time. Preferably without his mother watching.*

But for now, girls of the Kent household – unite.

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The End