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Monday, December 23rd, 2002 08:43 pm
svfic: somewhere i have never travelled, 3 (WAS Um. I'll stop posting after this, I swear)
Okay, everyone knows when this happens. You get this idea and you just can't stop. So in between dinner, brownies, wrapping presents, and turning on all the Christmas lights (yes, the fuses still work), more.
I'm in such a good mood. And this could so be getting too silly. And I honest to God don't care.
I am wearing a santa hat. The merriness continues so very, very merrily. With bells.
And, um, teddy bears.
There's almost an entire week where Clark wonders if Lex has finally begun to deserve the title 'insane'.
Lois isn't helping, either.
First day back at work, there are flowers on the desk. Large, obvious, former-nemeses-don't-send-stuff-like-this flowers. Huge red roses, and yeah, Mom's querying email asking why on earth Lex was singlehandedly buying out Smallville's flower population hit him by the third day, when sunflowers make a shocking appearance on every inch of his desk.
By Thursday, Clark only sighs when he sees the orchids. Apparently, Smallville's tapped. Metropolis florists are now under siege.
"You know," Lois says thoughtfully, leaning down to take a sniff from the orchids, eyebrows raised, "he never sent me flowers."
"He sent tulips," Clark answers rebelliously, staring at the dizzying array of flora littering his desk. "You said he sent you tulips."
"That's how he confirmed I'd broken up with him." Head tilted, Lois leans into the desk, fingernails tapping an irregular rhythm on the wood. "You know the MO."
"Yep." Tulips are remnants of Victoria, because Lex has a truly, truly bizarre sense of humor. Pushing aside the solid crystal vase, Clark buries his head in his arms. "He's trying to drive me insane."
"I'd say he's doing the unheard-of and asking for a date." Oh yeah, she's enjoying this far, far too much. "Did you finish up that article for Perry?"
"On the city council? Done and done." Leaning back, Clark surveys his desk. "Lex doesn't ask for anything."
"It's like a funeral, isn't it?" she says brightly. Oh fuck you, Lois. "Except in reverse. Check your livefeed later on. NASA's doing a press conference on the meter shower. So far, ETA is ten days or so. The biggest fragment recorded is apparently the size of the old LuthorCorp headquarters, but there's talk about destroying it before it reaches Earth. The Justice League is making noises about going out to check on this itself."
Clark makes a noise that sounds just a little petulant. Okay, really petulant. He's a spoiled rotten brat that's being--being--being *flirted* with via flora. Semi-publicly. Lois is right and wrong--this isn't Lex asking for a date, per se. This is Lex laying fucking siege. Faintly, the elevator pings in the distance, reminding Clark he has two stories to at least pretend to work on and not obsess about the bizarrity of his love life.
Such as it is.
"Yeah, I got an email from Br--Batman." Lois looks interested at his almost-slip. She's going to figure it out. He pities Bruce the day she does.
"For Superman?"
"For Superman." One of a thousand times Clark is glad that his identity was kept secret even there. Don't ask, don't tell. Like the military, except, well--the Justice League really hadn't *wanted* to know. It was enough Superman showed up on time like a good little trooper to save the world. "He thinks Superman is--oh hell, who knows what Batman thinks?"
"About the latest latex polymers, I'd say." The tip of a pink tongue slinks out, resting lightly on her lip, eyes going distant and interested. Oh, he pities Bruce. Selena, too. Taking a breath, Clark shoves his chair back. "Who's covering the NASA press conference?"
"Chloe for The Inquisitor, Ralph for The Daily Planet. Jimmy went with, so if all else fails, we'll have good pictures." Glancing up, Lois freezes, and he watches the pretty red mouth drop briefly, then shiver, like she's fighting something else.
That--that is a smirk. Oh Jesus Christ.
Slowly turning, Clark watches what appears to be a grizzly bear on a dolly being worked across the floor. There's a bow around its neck.
"Lois," Clark says slowly, carefully, "tell me you just had a really bad date with someone who thinks you're a goddess or something."
"Not--recently." She sucks in a slow breath, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I think it's carrying a box. In its paws."
This isn't happening. People are gathering along the aisles to watch, work coming to a scary, grinding halt as everyone gathers to watch the most bizarre, and smallest, parade in history. The poor delivery guy is all shades of red.
Let Melinda have had a fight with her boyfriend. Let Jerry have had a fight with *his* boyfriend. Let someone, anyone, please, be expecting a six foot--Jesus Christ, that's a teddy bear with a purple bow.
"I'm going to kill him." Clark isn't sure how, but a variety of interesting possiblities emerge. He was Lex Luthor's best friend for four years, after all. He knows things.
"Kent!"
Lois spins in one of those perfect arcs of motion that even Superman couldn't have duplicated, and she does it on six inch stilettos. Leaning into the desk, they both watch Perry descend from his office like the wrath of God, mouth twitching.
Is he anti-bear?
"You have an interview at one." A paper is thrust onto the desk, vases crash, scattering orchids like ants making a run for cover, and Lois leaps gracefully from a spill of water that soaks the floor. Clark watches the slow, careful drip, because he knows Lex, Lex knows this office, and this is so very well timed Clark's teeth ache.
"Interview." Lois says it for him. She's not laughing, but only because Perry's here.
"Delivery for Mr. Clark Kent," the delivery boy says far too clearly, and Clark closes his eyes. This can't be happening to him.
"Kent?"
"Yes sir?" Perry doesn't have a sense of humor. At least, not one that exists on any plane Clark's ever heard of. There's a horrifying second where Clark thinks Perry will comment on the flora and stuffed fauna currently taking up important Planet space, but he only smiles.
It's as unnatural as anything Clark's ever heard of, and that includes Lois wearing off-the-rack.
"Good job getting an interview with Luthor. Don't be late."
And lo, he walks away, leaving shock in his wake. Lois looks around the room, eyebrows raised, daring anyone to say a single word. Any word. Instantly, blissful noise results as people throw themselves into busy, important work, like there isn't a giant stuffed teddy bear beside Clark's desk and he didn't just get an interview with a man harder to get hold of than the average corpse.
With a trembling hand, Clark picks up the paper, wincing at a paper cut. Humanity is beginning to seriously, seriously suck.
A chair rolls over, and Lois is sitting neatly beside his desk, like it's any day in the world. Moving a vase aside and pushing a few stray, wet orchids from a comfortable place to put her elbow, the dark eyes fix on him.
"'Lois, you have a dirty mind. We never did anything.'" Her voice drops, low, husky, and very possibly what makes men, including Lex once upon a time, lay down so she can walk on them in her designer heels. It's sex. "Let me think here--right. 'Lois, we're enemies--'"
"We are!" Obviously, when Clark became human, a warp in space/time developed and Clark has been transplanted here. Where there exists six foot teddy bears, and where does someone *shop* for those anyway? "We really, really are."
Studying her nails, Lois sighs softly. "I suppose I should tell you--" And the bitch stops.
"I'm going to call Chloe and tell her to set you up on another blind date," Clark snaps, and that is The Threat. The one that even Lois can't possibly ignore, because she remembers the last guy Chloe set her up with, and so does Clark. Bruce Wayne hadn't appealed in the least.
And that reminds him--she's going to kill him when she finds out the truth. Note that again. Now he's not invulnerable. He'll have to watch for her heels.
"You're playing dirty."
"I love you, too. Spill."
She shrugs beautifully, tossing back dark hair and giving him the most serious, studious reporter-look in creation. The kind that Clark knows from experience means terrible, terrible things. Terrible things.
"Just a rumor."
Clakr grits his teeth and that makes his jaw aches. Oh damn, this day sucks.
"What. Is. The. Rumor."
The sparkle sends hope crashing to the ground. Though what he was hoping for, he really has no idea.
"From Luthor's personal secretary, reservations were made at 'Glass House'. Seven o'clock. And yes, those are chocolates!" Standing up, she swishes by him in a cloud of Christian Dior and silk, removing the box from the bear. Turning around, she slowly pulls open the gold thread from the heavy black box, carefully removes the cover, and takes out one perfect chocolate. "Wanna know what name?"
It's strange, that a variety of possibilities are assaulting him and not one, he knows, will be the right answer. He watches with a sinking feeling as she bites into the chocolate, a long line of caramel slinking out like something in a really classy porn film. Chewing slowly, she watches him melt into his chair.
"Clark, does the name 'Warrior Angel' ring any bells?" She watches his expression with every indication of pure satisfaction. "Get your gear, Kent. I'll take you to lunch and drop you off at LexCorp Towers on the way back."
Staring helplessly, Clark looks for words that don't exist. Licking his lips, he forces something out. Anything at all.
"I need someone to pick me up."
Lois grins, indicating the bear with a flicker of red painted nails. Evil. Damn. Evil. "I think you're spoken for, Smallville. Let's get moving."
*****
*wanders off to make more cookies*
I'm in such a good mood. And this could so be getting too silly. And I honest to God don't care.
I am wearing a santa hat. The merriness continues so very, very merrily. With bells.
And, um, teddy bears.
There's almost an entire week where Clark wonders if Lex has finally begun to deserve the title 'insane'.
Lois isn't helping, either.
First day back at work, there are flowers on the desk. Large, obvious, former-nemeses-don't-send-stuff-like-this flowers. Huge red roses, and yeah, Mom's querying email asking why on earth Lex was singlehandedly buying out Smallville's flower population hit him by the third day, when sunflowers make a shocking appearance on every inch of his desk.
By Thursday, Clark only sighs when he sees the orchids. Apparently, Smallville's tapped. Metropolis florists are now under siege.
"You know," Lois says thoughtfully, leaning down to take a sniff from the orchids, eyebrows raised, "he never sent me flowers."
"He sent tulips," Clark answers rebelliously, staring at the dizzying array of flora littering his desk. "You said he sent you tulips."
"That's how he confirmed I'd broken up with him." Head tilted, Lois leans into the desk, fingernails tapping an irregular rhythm on the wood. "You know the MO."
"Yep." Tulips are remnants of Victoria, because Lex has a truly, truly bizarre sense of humor. Pushing aside the solid crystal vase, Clark buries his head in his arms. "He's trying to drive me insane."
"I'd say he's doing the unheard-of and asking for a date." Oh yeah, she's enjoying this far, far too much. "Did you finish up that article for Perry?"
"On the city council? Done and done." Leaning back, Clark surveys his desk. "Lex doesn't ask for anything."
"It's like a funeral, isn't it?" she says brightly. Oh fuck you, Lois. "Except in reverse. Check your livefeed later on. NASA's doing a press conference on the meter shower. So far, ETA is ten days or so. The biggest fragment recorded is apparently the size of the old LuthorCorp headquarters, but there's talk about destroying it before it reaches Earth. The Justice League is making noises about going out to check on this itself."
Clark makes a noise that sounds just a little petulant. Okay, really petulant. He's a spoiled rotten brat that's being--being--being *flirted* with via flora. Semi-publicly. Lois is right and wrong--this isn't Lex asking for a date, per se. This is Lex laying fucking siege. Faintly, the elevator pings in the distance, reminding Clark he has two stories to at least pretend to work on and not obsess about the bizarrity of his love life.
Such as it is.
"Yeah, I got an email from Br--Batman." Lois looks interested at his almost-slip. She's going to figure it out. He pities Bruce the day she does.
"For Superman?"
"For Superman." One of a thousand times Clark is glad that his identity was kept secret even there. Don't ask, don't tell. Like the military, except, well--the Justice League really hadn't *wanted* to know. It was enough Superman showed up on time like a good little trooper to save the world. "He thinks Superman is--oh hell, who knows what Batman thinks?"
"About the latest latex polymers, I'd say." The tip of a pink tongue slinks out, resting lightly on her lip, eyes going distant and interested. Oh, he pities Bruce. Selena, too. Taking a breath, Clark shoves his chair back. "Who's covering the NASA press conference?"
"Chloe for The Inquisitor, Ralph for The Daily Planet. Jimmy went with, so if all else fails, we'll have good pictures." Glancing up, Lois freezes, and he watches the pretty red mouth drop briefly, then shiver, like she's fighting something else.
That--that is a smirk. Oh Jesus Christ.
Slowly turning, Clark watches what appears to be a grizzly bear on a dolly being worked across the floor. There's a bow around its neck.
"Lois," Clark says slowly, carefully, "tell me you just had a really bad date with someone who thinks you're a goddess or something."
"Not--recently." She sucks in a slow breath, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I think it's carrying a box. In its paws."
This isn't happening. People are gathering along the aisles to watch, work coming to a scary, grinding halt as everyone gathers to watch the most bizarre, and smallest, parade in history. The poor delivery guy is all shades of red.
Let Melinda have had a fight with her boyfriend. Let Jerry have had a fight with *his* boyfriend. Let someone, anyone, please, be expecting a six foot--Jesus Christ, that's a teddy bear with a purple bow.
"I'm going to kill him." Clark isn't sure how, but a variety of interesting possiblities emerge. He was Lex Luthor's best friend for four years, after all. He knows things.
"Kent!"
Lois spins in one of those perfect arcs of motion that even Superman couldn't have duplicated, and she does it on six inch stilettos. Leaning into the desk, they both watch Perry descend from his office like the wrath of God, mouth twitching.
Is he anti-bear?
"You have an interview at one." A paper is thrust onto the desk, vases crash, scattering orchids like ants making a run for cover, and Lois leaps gracefully from a spill of water that soaks the floor. Clark watches the slow, careful drip, because he knows Lex, Lex knows this office, and this is so very well timed Clark's teeth ache.
"Interview." Lois says it for him. She's not laughing, but only because Perry's here.
"Delivery for Mr. Clark Kent," the delivery boy says far too clearly, and Clark closes his eyes. This can't be happening to him.
"Kent?"
"Yes sir?" Perry doesn't have a sense of humor. At least, not one that exists on any plane Clark's ever heard of. There's a horrifying second where Clark thinks Perry will comment on the flora and stuffed fauna currently taking up important Planet space, but he only smiles.
It's as unnatural as anything Clark's ever heard of, and that includes Lois wearing off-the-rack.
"Good job getting an interview with Luthor. Don't be late."
And lo, he walks away, leaving shock in his wake. Lois looks around the room, eyebrows raised, daring anyone to say a single word. Any word. Instantly, blissful noise results as people throw themselves into busy, important work, like there isn't a giant stuffed teddy bear beside Clark's desk and he didn't just get an interview with a man harder to get hold of than the average corpse.
With a trembling hand, Clark picks up the paper, wincing at a paper cut. Humanity is beginning to seriously, seriously suck.
A chair rolls over, and Lois is sitting neatly beside his desk, like it's any day in the world. Moving a vase aside and pushing a few stray, wet orchids from a comfortable place to put her elbow, the dark eyes fix on him.
"'Lois, you have a dirty mind. We never did anything.'" Her voice drops, low, husky, and very possibly what makes men, including Lex once upon a time, lay down so she can walk on them in her designer heels. It's sex. "Let me think here--right. 'Lois, we're enemies--'"
"We are!" Obviously, when Clark became human, a warp in space/time developed and Clark has been transplanted here. Where there exists six foot teddy bears, and where does someone *shop* for those anyway? "We really, really are."
Studying her nails, Lois sighs softly. "I suppose I should tell you--" And the bitch stops.
"I'm going to call Chloe and tell her to set you up on another blind date," Clark snaps, and that is The Threat. The one that even Lois can't possibly ignore, because she remembers the last guy Chloe set her up with, and so does Clark. Bruce Wayne hadn't appealed in the least.
And that reminds him--she's going to kill him when she finds out the truth. Note that again. Now he's not invulnerable. He'll have to watch for her heels.
"You're playing dirty."
"I love you, too. Spill."
She shrugs beautifully, tossing back dark hair and giving him the most serious, studious reporter-look in creation. The kind that Clark knows from experience means terrible, terrible things. Terrible things.
"Just a rumor."
Clakr grits his teeth and that makes his jaw aches. Oh damn, this day sucks.
"What. Is. The. Rumor."
The sparkle sends hope crashing to the ground. Though what he was hoping for, he really has no idea.
"From Luthor's personal secretary, reservations were made at 'Glass House'. Seven o'clock. And yes, those are chocolates!" Standing up, she swishes by him in a cloud of Christian Dior and silk, removing the box from the bear. Turning around, she slowly pulls open the gold thread from the heavy black box, carefully removes the cover, and takes out one perfect chocolate. "Wanna know what name?"
It's strange, that a variety of possibilities are assaulting him and not one, he knows, will be the right answer. He watches with a sinking feeling as she bites into the chocolate, a long line of caramel slinking out like something in a really classy porn film. Chewing slowly, she watches him melt into his chair.
"Clark, does the name 'Warrior Angel' ring any bells?" She watches his expression with every indication of pure satisfaction. "Get your gear, Kent. I'll take you to lunch and drop you off at LexCorp Towers on the way back."
Staring helplessly, Clark looks for words that don't exist. Licking his lips, he forces something out. Anything at all.
"I need someone to pick me up."
Lois grins, indicating the bear with a flicker of red painted nails. Evil. Damn. Evil. "I think you're spoken for, Smallville. Let's get moving."
*****
*wanders off to make more cookies*
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From:My muse has turned me into a masochist. Actually, my muse looks a little like your icon.
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