Author’s note: This fic is for Bobbart for the 2011 L&C Ficathon.
Dialogue and situations taken from the episode “Whine, Whine, Whine” written by Kathy McCormick & John McNamara; from “That Old Gang of Mine” by Gene Miller & Karen Kavner; and also from “And The Answer Is…” by Tony Blake & Paul Jackson.
This story is set immediately after “Whine, Whine, Whine”.
I extend my sincere appreciation to Corrina (Female Hawk) and LynnSM for their beta work. Their insightful comments made this fic much better. Many thanks also to the posters on the LCFic message boards, who helped me with various questions about wine, shoes, and chicken.
No copyright violation is intended.
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He was going to tell her tonight. He was. Clark knotted his tie and took a look in the mirror. The charcoal gray suit was freshly dry-cleaned, the white shirt was ironed and starched to within an inch of its life, and the tie was actually quite sober for him. Too bad the man in the mirror looked so worried.
Of course, he wasn’t looking forward to the telling. Having to tell his partner and best friend that, ever since he’d met her two years ago, he’d been leading a double life? That Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter at the Daily Planet, moonlighted in a blue spandex suit? That when he ran off (which had become a sharp point of contention recently) he wasn’t really returning a video or picking up a prescription or buying stamps before the post office closed? No, he was off being Superman.
Lois might not take that all that well. In fact, Clark expected her reaction to be volcanic. Clark had a sinking feeling that her reaction might outdo the genuine volcanic eruption he had encountered last month, where he’d diverted the lava flow while the villagers below had scuttled to safety.
He deserved it. He’d been lying to her for two years now. He only hoped that, once he put the truth – the whole truth – out there, that she would eventually forgive him.
In the meantime, he wasn’t above manipulating things to get a better atmosphere for what he was already mentally dubbing “The Confession”. Nervous tension mixed with burgeoning hope. That afternoon, after Calvin Dregg’s court case against Superman had been dismissed, Lois had talked with Superman.
“I think I understand something I didn't before,” she had said. “Why I don't really know you. Why no one does. You live… above us, and when we try to bring you down here, we just show the worst sides of ourselves. I've tried to love you but I realized today how selfish that is. You're not just here for me… you're here for all of us.” Then she reached up and kissed him on the cheek, chastely.
It was a good-bye kiss, Clark had realized. With a sense of ineffable loss, he had watched Lois walk away. She was giving up her crush on Superman, and going off to be with Dan Scardino. Clark had felt so hollow that he almost expected the wind to topple him.
And then, miracle of miracles, Lois came to his apartment later. To Clark’s apartment. She wasn’t going off with Dan Scardino. She’d dumped the smarmy, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing, annoying FDA agent. She wanted to be with Clark. And she’d gone ahead and said the scary words.
“We let ourselves get distracted and we let ourselves get hurt too easily and we work too much and we argue over stupid things… all so we can hide from each other, and I’m sick of it, Clark. Because the only reason we hide is, we’re scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of this.” And then Lois had launched herself at him in a passionate kiss. Of all the kisses Clark had had with Lois, whether as Superman or as Clark, this was one of the best. One of the best because of what it meant. There was hope for him. Hope for him and her together.
“If you want to run away from this, tell me now,” Lois had said.
Clark had looked at her and told her the absolute truth. “I won’t run, Lois. “I’m ready for the next step if you are.”
And so that had led to his presence now, getting ready for a dinner with Lois, and mentally preparing for the evening. They’d go to Ciao Amicis, an upscale Italian restaurant. The name meant “Welcome, Friends” and Clark hoped that was a good omen. He and Lois were good friends, right? Maybe they could become something more.
He would buy her the best dinner ever, with antipasti and wine and tiramisu and whatever else she wanted. He would sit there and enjoy looking at her, and enjoy her babble, and enjoy being with her. Then he’d ask her to his apartment, after dinner, and he’d sit with her on the couch and he’d draw a deep breath and then he’d tell her.
“Lois, I’m Superman.” No, a little too abrupt. “Lois, have you ever noticed that Superman and I look a lot alike?” No, that was lame, too. “Lois, have you ever wondered why I’m always running off?” Maybe that was a good lead-in. She hated him running off. He hated leaving her. Finally he could tell her why – the truth, and not some stupid excuse.
A tentative knock at the door snapped him out of his reverie. He thought about calling out “Be right there!” but instead he sped to the door.
“Hello, Lois.” His jaw dropped at her sheer beauty. She’d put her hair up in some complicated pattern. She’d bought some new shoes (at least Clark had never seen this pair before), sultry-looking high heels that matched her burgundy dress. The outfit accentuated her curves and made her look… more Lois.
The way her eyes looked his body up and down made him hope that… well, maybe there was hope for him.
“Clark.” As ever, hearing her voice sent a little frisson of excitement through him. She smiled hesitantly. “Ready to go?”
He should compliment her. Instead, frustratingly, the first words that came out of his mouth were, “We could take a cab. You don’t have to drive.”
“No, Clark. We’ve got this settled. I’ll drive. You’ll pay for dinner.” Lois had that don’t-mess-with-me tone that he’d learned meant business. Then her features softened. “Besides, I want to talk with you without anyone else around.”
Clark nodded. He wanted that too. But he wanted to talk with her in his apartment, not in a crowded restaurant, and not when she was driving. Not when she was likely to drive off the road at what he had to tell her. He started mentally rehearsing “The Confession” again, frantically turning over opening lines in his head.
“Clark? You OK?” Lois was understandably confused at his lack of response.
“Fine.” Belatedly, he added, “Uh, you look great.”
“Thank you.” Shyly she added, “You don’t look so bad yourself.” They stared at each other for a minute, and Clark was about two seconds away from pulling her into his bedroom and saying, The hell with dinner, let’s stay here and start kissing again. Then Lois blurted out, “Well, we should get going,” and the moment passed.
“Uh, yes. We should.” They stayed silent as Clark locked his apartment and they went down to the street to get into Lois’s Jeep.
The silence was awkward as they drove to the restaurant. Was this how it was going to be now? They’d admitted that there was something between them – why couldn’t they talk to each other now?
Desperately, Clark began. “So, what happened to Knox?”
“The Omnicorp CEO?” Lois replied. “He was arrested for conspiring to blow up the courtroom at Superman’s trial. Fortunately Superman smelled the bomb in time and got it out of the courtroom before anyone was hurt. The bomber led us right to Knox.” She smiled. “Daily Planet exclusive.”
“Well done,” Clark congratulated her. It was well done. Too bad he’d had to be there as Superman. If he could have been there as Clark, it would have been their exclusive, not her exclusive. He had developed a real fondness for seeing the “Lane and Kent” byline on a Planet article.
“I think we need to investigate how Knox got to where he was,” Lois said, and just like that, they were talking freely again, bouncing ideas off each other, discussing past cases and how they might use the same techniques, and getting along. Clark loved it.
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The dinner was marvelous. They shared a bottle of wine, the food was well worth its high-but-not-exorbitant price, and they didn’t have one awkward silence through the whole evening. Clark didn’t obsess too much about “The Confession”, thinking about it only ten or fifteen times. And there wasn’t one Superman call, for a change. Or perhaps he just wasn’t hearing them, because he was so engrossed. He gave himself up to the sheer enjoyment of being with Lois.
The only deviation from Clark’s plan was that Lois was too replete to want tiramisu. A nod to the waiter ensured that two portions of the dessert got wrapped up to serve at home later. Clark paid the bill, adding a generous tip for the unobtrusive but excellent service.
He held Lois’s coat for her and drew in a deep breath. Before he could ask, “Will you come up to my apartment after we get there?” Lois broke in.
“Oh, Clark, talking with you reminded me that I left my notes at work. You don’t mind if we stop there on the way home, do you?” She had already made the turn that led to the Planet, he saw.
“Of course not.” Although he was a little worried that Lois worked too hard. She complained about him always running off. He didn’t complain out loud, but he worried inside. She worked too hard, too much. She didn’t take time for herself. She was always “go, go, go”, never taking a break.
On the other hand, who was he to talk? He worked full time – and being partners with Lois sometimes meant more than full time – and then he had a second job. Pot, meet kettle.
Maybe they should both take some time off. Maybe, after he told her, they could go off to a Caribbean island somewhere, and spend a week on the beach, drinking fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them.
Lois zoomed into the Daily Planet parking lot, and Clark thought, Yeah, right. The beach idea – I don’t think so. Lois wouldn’t slow down. He loved that about her.
They greeted the night doorman, and took the elevator up to the bullpen. Clark stared at her neck, wondering what would happen if he suddenly began kissing it, right here, right now. NO! He had to tell her first. He jammed his hands in his pockets, curling his fingers into fists. The elevator doors opened and Clark breathed a mental sigh of relief at the removal of temptation.
Lois went to her desk, the heels of her dress shoes making a click-clack on the bullpen floor. The noise echoed through the empty bullpen, usually so loud and bustling. The late-shift journalists were probably off researching something or chasing a late-breaking story, thought Clark. The night editor was on the floor below, and even the most inveterate workers (like Lois) had long since gone home – not surprising, as they’d stayed at the restaurant well past midnight. She picked up a file folder and flipped through it.
Clark saw something unusual on her desk and came over. He didn’t think someone would have sent her a bomb, but then again, you never knew with Lois. He X-rayed it and couldn’t believe it. “What’s this?”
Lois set down the file folder and looked at the large box Clark pointed to. “Oh! My Double Fudge Crunch Bars came in!”
“What?”
“You know Peter from Sports?”
Clark did know Peter, a friendly guy who was the beat reporter for the Metropolis Tigers football team. “Yeah.”
“He passed around a fundraising sheet for his son’s Little League team, and it came on a day that I was out of Double Fudge Crunch Bars, so I signed up for eight boxes.”
“Lois, are you telling me that you have sixteen pounds of Double Fudge Crunch Bars here in a box on your desk?”
“Well, yes. I was out, Clark! I needed chocolate! And they’re the special double-dark-chocolate kind!”
“I think you’re all set on Double Fudge Crunch Bars for about the next three years, that’s what I think,” Clark said wryly.
“Clark, I’m thinking ahead. Plus, I’m helping Peter and the kid’s – “
“Petey Junior.”
“And Petey Junior’s Little League team. You should be proud of me.” She looked again at the box. It was big. Very big. A big box full of eight smaller boxes, each smaller box full of Double Fudge Crunch Bars.
“I’ll take them home now, and then I’ll bring one to the office every day. You see, I’ll actually save money, because I won’t be buying them one at a time from the news stand anymore.”
“Wholesale rather than retail?” Clark asked.
“Exactly.” Lois turned to him. “Clark, would you mind carrying them down to the car?”
“You can’t carry sixteen pounds?” Clark asked, just to yank her chain.
“I’m carrying this file folder.”
He sighed and gave up. “Sure.” As he hoisted the box (by a lifetime’s habit making it look like he was adjusting to its weight) he asked, “I’d really like to talk with you. Would you be able to stay at my apartment a little while after you drop me off?”
“Sure….Oh, Clark!”
“What?” said Clark, alarmed at the urgency in her voice.
“I forgot! How could I do that?”
“You forgot what?”
“I forgot about my neighbor’s dog!”
Clark eyed her skeptically. Was this some sort of payback for all the times he’d run out on her? “Neighbor’s dog?”
“It happened this afternoon! Phil – you know Phil from 504, right?”
“I’ve never met him.” Still a little stung, he needled her. “Lois, I wasn’t aware that you knew your neighbors.”
“Of course I do!” she lied. “Well, earlier today, when I was coming back from your place, the ambulance was at my apartment building, and the paramedics were on my floor. They think Phil had a heart attack. Eleanor, his wife, went to the hospital with him. She caught me in the hallway and asked me if I’d let out their dog tonight and tomorrow morning, till she comes back. And now it’s been six hours and I forgot all about the dog!”
“I think most dogs can hold it for six hours.”
“Well… you’re the one with the farm background. I never had a dog.”
Clark bowed to the inevitable. “Lois, the dog is probably fine. Let’s go there and take him out, and then we can talk. At my apartment.”
“Can’t we talk here?”
Clark lowered his voice. “I was kind of thinking of the talk… with wine… and chocolate… and a comfortable couch…”
“Oh, that kind of talk.” The eagerness in her voice heartened Clark. Lois grabbed him by the arm. “You got my chocolate bars? OK, Clark, let’s go.” She marched him to the elevator.
They made the trip from the Planet to her apartment in record time. Of course, it helped that at this hour of the morning, there was very little traffic. They entered the building and climbed to the fifth floor.
“Let me go to Phil’s first and take the dog out, and after that I’ll meet you in my apartment,” Lois suggested.
“Instead of that, Lois, how about I put these Double Fudge Crunch Bars in your kitchen, and then meet you at Phil’s?” Clark replied. “We can take the dog out together.”
Lois fumbled in her bag for her neighbor’s key. “Sure,” she replied absently.
Clark opened her apartment door with his key (they had given each other keys to their apartments a few months ago) and set the sixteen pounds of chocolate up on her kitchen counter. Leaving Lois’s apartment door slightly ajar in case she wanted to put on some more comfortable shoes before they took the dog out, he went down the hall to 504. Lois had finished fiddling with the locks and was just now opening the door.
An excited black Labrador Retriever burst out, hysterically jumping up and down when it saw them. It jumped up on Lois and knocked her down. It came around Clark, sniffed him, and ran down the hallway.
“Lois! Are you all right?” Clark rushed to her. She’d fallen pretty hard. He didn’t worry about the loose dog. The hallway doors were closed, and unless the dog had opposable thumbs, it couldn’t open them to get down the front stairs. They could collect the dog from the hallway later.
“I’m fine, Clark,” Lois said as he helped her up. “That dog always seems so nice when it’s with Phil.” At Clark’s questioning glance, she admitted, “I see them in the hall sometimes.”
The dog in question came up to them, whined happily and sniffed Clark again. “Hey, boy,” Clark said quietly, petting the beast. It tried to jump up on Clark but he gently nudged it in the chest, nipping the behavior in the bud.
“All we have to do is find the leash,” Lois said, entering Eleanor and Phil’s apartment. “Eleanor said it was hanging by the door…” It wasn’t. “Clark, do you see a collar and leash anywhere?”
Clark followed Lois into the apartment. He’d seen so many dwelling places as Superman. This one had the same look – clutter, unfinished tasks, the inhabitants not knowing that today was the day that illness or accident would strike. A large dog bed, covered with shed black hairs, lay on the floor of the living room, right next to the owner’s recliner chair.
They went past the hall to the bathroom and bedrooms, and made their way to the kitchen and back stair. “I think it’s here,” Lois called. “Eleanor should have told me it was by the back door.” She pulled a blue nylon collar and sturdy snap-on leash from a hook on the wall. The collar had “MOOSE” embroidered on it, and a jingly ID tag with address and phone number also bore the name. The other tag, indicating Moose had been vaccinated against rabies, had only a number on it. “Well, I guess we know his name now.”
“Moose!” Clark called softly. “Moose!” He took the collar and leash from Lois and walked back through the apartment. Lois followed him, and they went out into the hallway. There was no sign of the dog, but Lois’s unlocked apartment door had swung open. It didn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to deduce where Moose had gone.
“I’ll lock up here if you get him leashed,” Lois offered.
“Deal.” Clark strode down the hallway toward her apartment, wanting to get this over with. They could finish it in fifteen minutes. Get the dog, put the collar and leash on him, take him outside, take him back to Phil’s apartment, go over to my place, and then Lois and I can talk.
He went inside Lois’s apartment and groaned. Things weren’t going to go that smoothly.
Fragments of cardboard box littered the carpet. Moose, tail wagging, had his head amidst a pile of spilled Dark Chocolate Double Fudge Crunch Bars. The dog gobbled up the chocolate bars frantically, gulping down the candy without bothering with trivialities like unwrapping. Moose chewed and then took another ferocious lunge at the pile of chocolate, grabbing another five bars before fully swallowing what he already had in his mouth.
Lois came walking in. “We’re all set, Clark….” She trailed off as she saw the chocolate carnage. “Clark!”
“He must have smelled the chocolate bars up on the counter,” Clark said lamely, striding forward to the dog.
“Clark! That dog ate my chocolate!”
“Yes,” Clark said. “He did.” He put the collar and leash on Moose, who ignored him in favor of making shark-like lunges at the rapidly diminishing pile. Clark pulled the dog back from the debris. Moose whined as he saw the Gates of Paradise closing in his face.
“Stupid dog! You stupid, stupid dog!” Lois cried out. “You ate my chocolate!”
A tendril of memory teased its way through the back of Clark’s brain. “Lois, how many chocolate bars did you have there?”
His urgent question stopped her glare at the offending canine. “Well, I had eight boxes. They’re one-and-a-half ounce candy bars, so each box had twenty-four bars in it.”
“Hold him.” Clark strode forward and gathered up the sad remnants of Lois’s purchase. “There are eight bars left.” His eyes flew to Moose, who pulled hard at the leash. The dog’s stomach looked noticeably larger. “Lois, this dog just ate about fifteen pounds of Double Fudge Crunch Bars.” Clark gathered up the few surviving intact candy bars and put them back on the kitchen counter. He saw Moose eyeing it speculatively. Clark changed his mind and put the chocolate inside the refrigerator. He closed the fridge door firmly – it had a tendency to fall open. Moose whined.
“Isn’t chocolate toxic to dogs?” Lois asked apprehensively. Moose had settled down after he saw the Crunch Bars disappear, and now he stared longingly at the refrigerator.
“I think so.” Clark cast about for ideas. Then he remembered something he’d seen on several of his flights above Metropolis. “Do you have a Yellow Pages here?”
“I think it’s in the high cupboard.” Lois took a chance and let the Labrador go. Moose ran to where the chocolate bar massacre had taken place, and nosed through the torn pieces of cardboard. He licked the carpet to get every last little crumb of chocolate that had fallen. Then he sniffed around earnestly, looking for more of that manna from heaven.
By now, Clark had found the Yellow Pages directory. He flipped back to the “V”s and found what he was looking for. He dialed Lois’s phone.
“Metropolis Veterinary Emergency. This is Shanelle. May I help you?” Shanelle had a pleasant, competent-sounding voice.
“My dog – “ Clark decided not to get into the ownership situation right now. “My dog just ate a whole bunch of chocolate bars. Will he be OK?”
The pleasant voice turned businesslike. “How big is your dog?”
Clark eyed Moose, who was still checking out each side of each fragment of cardboard box and chocolate bar wrapper, and made his best guess. “About eighty pounds.”
“And how much chocolate did he eat?”
“I think about fifteen pounds.” Moose punctuated this statement by sitting down and emitting a tremendous belch.
“Fifteen pounds?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, sir, that is definitely a toxic dose. You need to bring him in here right away. Do you know where we are located?”
“I think so,” Clark said. “Corner of Tenth and Ryan?”
“Yes, sir, that’s it. We’ll expect you shortly. Please bring your dog in right away.” Shanelle sounded concerned.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.” Clark hung up. “Lois, it’s a toxic dose. We have to take him to the vet.”
“Right.” Clark loved that about Lois. In a crisis, she kept her head. Despite the fact that he knew she wanted to kill Moose for eating most of her chocolate bars. “You take him.” She gestured towards Moose’s leash which dragged across her carpet. “I’ll drive.”
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They got to the veterinary emergency room in only twenty minutes, again helped by the lack of early-morning traffic. A loud doorbell rang as they entered the facility. The waiting room’s emptiness surprised Clark. Shanelle, a twenty-five-or-something veterinary nurse wearing scrub top and pants, gave them some paperwork to fill out, weighed Moose in at eighty-five pounds, and escorted them into a small exam room.
Clark didn’t need to extend his senses beyond human levels to hear the growling and hissing from the cat in the room next door. Curious, he pulled down his glasses and looked over the frames, through the wall. Another veterinary nurse held the cat firmly as a man in a white coat administered an injection. The cat’s protests rose to a yowling crescendo and then died off as the nurse firmly put the cat back into its cat carrier. As she latched the carrier door, a paw came lashing out through the bars. The nurse avoided the sharp claws with the skill of long experience.
Lois raised her eyebrows at the frightening sound effects, but continued filling out paperwork. “Should I put my address, or Eleanor’s?” she asked Clark.
Clark continued looking through the walls. Their room backed onto a large open space with kennels and cages on the walls. Three depressed-looking cats sat quietly in separate cages as intravenous fluids dripped into them. A small terrier with bandages on both front feet lay sedated in its kennel. In a glass cage with an oxygen line running to it, a parakeet perched on its cage swing. Clark could see that the bird labored to breathe. And, over there… was that a tarantula?
“Clark?” Lois prodded.
“Oh. I think you should put down your address and phone number.”
Before Clark could say more, a knock came at the door, followed immediately by a middle-aged man in a white coat carrying a clipboard. He shook hands with Lois and Clark. “Hello. I’m Dr. Brown. And this must be Moose.”
Moose eagerly ran to the vet, jumping up. Clark pulled him down before he could plant his feet on the vet’s shoulders. The vet smiled in gratitude and petted Moose on the head after Clark made the dog sit.
“So Moose ate a bunch of chocolate, eh?” the doctor said, kneeling down and beginning a rapid yet thorough physical exam on the aggressively friendly Labrador.
“I think about fifteen pounds,” Clark said.
“Fifteen pounds?” Dr. Brown asked. Apparently the quantity was something unusual, even for the jaded emergency doctor.
“It was a Little League fundraiser,” Lois said defensively, not admitting that she’d raised most of the funds in this particular instance.
“Ah,” the doctor said. “How long ago did he eat it?”
“Within the last thirty minutes,” Lois replied.
“That’s good.” The doctor pulled out a stethoscope and listened carefully to Moose’s chest. As he returned the stethoscope to his white coat pocket, he asked, “Any previous medical problems on Moose?”
Clark shot a questioning glimpse at Lois. She shrugged. “I don’t think so. He’s my neighbor’s dog. I’m just watching him.”
“Your neighbor’s dog…” Dr. Brown grimaced in sympathy. “Well, the good news is that Moose looks fine otherwise. The bad news is that fifteen pounds of chocolate is quite a bit. If we don’t deal with it, Moose could get hyperthermia, seizures, heart rhythm disturbances, and death. Now, we’re going to need to induce vomiting to get all that chocolate out of there.”
“OK,” Lois said.
“Then we’ll give him some activated charcoal to adsorb what he’s digested so far. We’ll have to keep him here for the next several hours so we can monitor him.” The doctor had stood up and was writing quickly on the papers on the clipboard.
“OK.”
“I’m going to go and get the medicine ready.” The doctor’s tone turned businesslike. “Shanelle will come in here, and give you a cost estimate and have you sign for permission to treat. You’ll need to leave a deposit, and please make sure we have your contact information, including a phone number where you can be reached tonight.”
“Right,” Lois said.
Doctor Brown bustled out and Shanelle came in. Moose looked up in interest at her hair, which had been put into hundreds of tiny braids with beads. The faint clicking sound as Shanelle moved her head attracted the dog’s attention. Clark assumed it was because Moose was trying to decide if the braids were something he could eat.
“Just sign right here,” she said. “I’ll run a deposit on your card… can you confirm this phone number?”
Shanelle left the room, and a few minutes later, Dr. Brown came back into the room and gave Moose an injection. “This injection is an emetic. I think Moose should do just fine after we get the chocolate out of him. I’ll take him back now. We’ll see you back about eight o’clock this morning, OK?”
At that moment, the door to the outside opened and they heard the doorbell ring. There was a loud commotion in the waiting room. The second nurse knocked on the door and poked her head in without waiting for an answer. “Doctor. We have a hit-by-car.”
“Excuse me,” Dr. Brown said to Lois and Clark. “Shanelle will take Moose to the kennel and get him all set up. I have to go.” He stepped away briskly and headed down the hallway.
“I hope he’s OK,” Lois said wanly. Clark didn’t answer. He had tipped down his glasses and was watching the drama through the walls. He sighed. He spent way too much time in emergency rooms as Superman. Now he was getting to see it from the veterinary side. The injuries were just as bad and the families were just as upset.
They waited for a few more minutes, saying nothing. Lois was irritated and unhappy. Moose had stopped jumping up and seemed focused on his internal rumblings. Clark didn’t need super-hearing to detect the loud borborygmi emanating from Moose’s stomach.
Loud recriminations came from the next room. “You let him off the leash!” someone shouted. “Well, you left the gate open!” someone else shouted back.
Shanelle came back in. Lois asked her, “Is that dog going to be OK?”
“I really can’t say.” But Shanelle’s face told them that things looked serious. “I’ll take Moose to the kennel now. Do you want us to call you with a progress report or do you just want to pick him up at eight o’clock?” Shanelle bent down to put a leash on Moose.
Clark dragged his attention away from the excitement in the next room. Lois looked tired – the long day was catching up with her. “Why don’t we just pick him up?” He didn’t tell Lois right now, but he planned on picking up the dog and letting Lois sleep in. She needed the rest.
So much for the big confession tonight. That was one more stress she didn’t need. All of Clark’s preparations were for naught. He had wanted to tell a happy, well-fed, well-rested Lois his secret. Now he had a tired, cranky Lois, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that a tired, cranky Lois didn’t take surprises well.
Irritation rose in Clark. He’d been so optimistic earlier today, when Lois had dumped Dan Scardino and come to him, telling him she was ready to take the next step. The dinner had been perfect, and he’d been so close, so ready to confess and show her all the man he was. Then this crazy dog had decided to eat Lois’s chocolate stash, and, well, here they were, in an emergency room at one a.m., tired as all get-out. And his careful plans had been upended.
He usually liked dogs, but right now Clark was exasperated. “Stupid dog,” he muttered.
Moose responded by standing and bracing himself. Then he vomited up a huge pool of chocolate-smelling liquid, all over Lois’s new shoes.
