Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Lois and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (1/1)

Lois and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It began with the alarm clock—the one that Lois opened bleary eyes to find blinking at her: 12:00, 12:00, 12:00. The power must have gone out during the night. Given the howling and booming of the thunderstorm that had come through some time in the wee hours, she wasn’t exactly shocked. Groggily, she groped among the clutter on her nightstand for her wristwatch. Once she focused on its face, she came suddenly wide awake. It was 8:30 already!

Throwing the covers off, Lois launched into her morning routine at record speed. She was briefly delayed by a run in the first pair of nylons she put on, but she grabbed a fresh pair from the drawer and hurried into the kitchen, still pulling her second shoe on as she went. No time for breakfast. She’d just grab a cup of coffee on her way out the door.

Or not. The power outage had affected the timer on her coffee maker as well, of course. Okay, coffee would have to wait for the deli where she had to pick up a dozen bagels and an order of blintzes for Bobby Bigmouth. She was due to meet him in—she glanced at her watch—twenty-five minutes!

Running out the front door of her apartment building, Lois found her way blocked by a large limb that had fallen off the towering oak tree that grew between the sidewalk and the street. The limb lay across the steps of her building, forcing her to climb gingerly over it. She managed the feat without tripping down the stairs, but not without smearing her hands, legs, and skirt with wet tree debris.

Fifteen minutes later, her cab pulled up in front of the deli. “Eight-seventy-five,” the driver informed her, holding a hand out for the fare. Lois opened her wallet and growled in frustration. She’d meant to stop at the ATM before work this morning, but the power outage had pushed the errand from her mind. Now after handing the cabbie a well-worn ten-dollar bill, she had just enough cash left for Bobby’s breakfast, but not enough for hers, and she new Saul’s Deli didn’t take credit cards.

Twenty minutes after that, Lois hurried around a corner just in time to see Bobby rise from the bench that was their meeting spot and begin to walk away. “Bobby, wait!” she shouted.

Bobby stopped and looked pointedly at his watch, then back at Lois. “You’re late,” he said with a scowl.

“I’m sorry,” Lois forced herself to say. “The power went out at my place and my alarm didn’t go off.” She noticed Bobby eyeing the bag she carried. “But look,” she continued, opening the bag to let out a waft of fragrant seam, “the blintzes are still hot.”

Bobby took the bag and looked into it. “Two, four, eight…” he muttered. Then he gave Lois a sharp look. “There are twelve bagels in here. Saul’s sells them by the baker’s dozen.” He held out his hand in a “fork it over” gesture.

Lois rolled her eyes, but she pulled the pilfered bagel from her handbag and gave it to Bobby. “I missed breakfast. So sue me,” she grumbled.

“Not my problem,” Bobby told her, sitting back down on the bench and digging into his own breakfast. “Now, do you want my information or not?”

*****

The elevator door opened onto the newsroom lobby and Lois stepped out. Jimmy, who was walking past with an armful of file folders, raised a hand and opened his mouth to greet her, but after one look at Lois, he apparently thought better of it. Without a word, Lois strode briskly down the ramp and plopped into her desk chair, dumping her handbag in her bottom drawer and slamming the drawer shut. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and attempted to gather her wits. Bobby’s so-called tip had been a bust; she’d already gotten the same information two days ago from Benny Bonebreak, and Bobby had nothing new to add.

Of their own accord, her eyes opened and fell on Clark’s desk—his empty and very neat and clear desk. Then she remembered that Clark had taken the day off. He’d caught a red-eye flight home to Kansas for the funeral of his high school football coach. He wasn’t due back for two days. Wearily, Lois rose and grabbed her coffee mug from the corner of her desk. It was going to be a long day.

***Ten hours later***

She’d been right, Lois thought as she trudged down the hall to her apartment door, a pizza box in one hand and her keys in the other. The day had gone from bad to worse: she’d made no progress on any of the three investigations that she and Clark were currently working on, she’d had no luck with any of their usual sources, she’d been fighting a headache all day, her coffee had been cold every time she’d reached for it, and, she thought miserably, she really, really missed Clark.

Somehow she managed to get through her door and deposit the pizza onto her kitchen table without a major disaster occurring. She kicked off her shoes and dumped her bag by the door, and then she went to the fridge and pulled out a can of cream soda. She popped it open and took a large swig before placing the can next to the pizza box and heading to her bedroom. It was definitely a sweatpants kind of night.

After changing clothes and swallowing a couple of aspirin, Lois grabbed a dog-eared romance novel from her nightstand and a paper towel from her kitchen and sat down to her supper. Opening the book, she reached for the soda, only to hear an angry buzzing sound and feel something brush past her hand. She looked up to see a huge, ugly wasp hovering six inches above her soda can, then landing on the lip of its opening.

It was the last straw.

*****

Clark flew slowly over Metropolis, dressed in Spandex. It had been a bittersweet day. Coach Watson had died suddenly of a massive stroke, and of course Clark was sad for his widow and family, but Coach had been well remembered by the whole community, including nearly a hundred of the young men he’d mentored over the decade that he’d coached the Smallville Crows. Clark had paid his respects, said hello to old friends, and had a quiet supper with his folks before they headed to bed at farmer’s hours. Now he was on his way home and looking forward to seeing Lois in the morning. He was supposed to have one more day off for travel, but he’d decided that he couldn’t wait that long. He’d come up with some explanation or other in the morning.

Just then his hearing kicked in, tuned to a familiar voice. “That’s it! You are dead meat, buster! Just because I left the window cracked does not give you the right to invade my home. You picked the wrong place and the wrong girl, and definitely the wrong day, and now you’re going to get it!”

Not waiting to x-ray her apartment, Clark changed direction and rocketed to Lois’s rescue. As he pulled the window wider, he heard a thwack and a crash, then Lois let out a scream and a “Son of a—Where did you go? Come back here, you—“

Clark landed directly in front of Lois and quickly surveyed the scene. Lois stared at him wide-eyed, a kitchen towel in one hand and an angry red welt beginning to rise on the back of the other. A puddle of water was spreading around the shards of glass that were the remnants of Lois’s coffee pot. The coffee machine itself lay on the floor in the middle of the mess. A fast scan of the apartment revealed Lois’s bag and a pair of pumps on the floor near her front door and an open pizza box on her kitchen table next to a paper towel, which acted as a plate for one of the pizza slices. A paperback book lay on the floor at the bottom of a small waterfall of cream soda that trickled off the table. There was, however, no sign of an intruder.

“Lois? Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?” He started to reach a hand toward her, but stopped himself as he remembered that he was here in the Suit. He hadn’t seen her in that guise much since that terrible night she’d said yes to Luthor’s proposal. That had been months ago, and she’d dug a Kryptonite bullet out of his shoulder since then, but still, he wasn’t sure where his alter ego stood with Lois.

For a moment, Lois just stared dumbly. Then she held up her left hand. “It stung me,” she said quietly. Clark felt his eyebrows climb and the corners of his mouth pull up. Looking around the kitchen one more time, he spotted the culprit—a wasp that was standing on Lois’s table, sipping contentedly from the puddle of soda. “Aha!” he said, “There you are, you miscreant.” He crossed to the table, cupped the offending insect in his hands, and released it out the window, closing the window-latch behind it.

He turned back to Lois. “The villain is vanquished, my lady,” he said with a smile and a courtly bow.

But Lois didn’t smile at his corny joke. To his consternation, he saw her face begin to crumple before she bit her lip and took a ragged breath, obviously trying to hold back tears.

Clark frowned and stepped closer to her, the hand actually grasping her shoulder this time. “Lois? What’s the matter?” She blinked at him once or twice, but didn’t answer.

*****

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. Especially not in front of Superman. There was nothing to cry about, anyway. It had just been a bad day. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, that was all. She could really use a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. And Clark. Oh, how she would love a hug from her friend right now! But Clark wasn’t here, and he wouldn’t be there tomorrow, either, so she’d have to muddle through without him.

Superman’s deep voice rumbled down at her. “Here, Lois,” he said, leading her to the living room. He sat her down gently on the love seat and made sure to catch her eye. “Now, stay right there and don’t move,” he told her. Before she could even answer, he disappeared in a blur of movement. In a flash, he was back at her side, and her apartment was restored to order. “There,” he said, “all tidied up. I’m afraid you’ll need a new coffee carafe, but the machine seems okay.”

“Thank you,” she told him with a watery smile.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” he asked. Lois looked around her apartment, then back at the hero standing awkwardly in her living room. “No. Thanks for offering, but it’s just been a long day. There really isn’t anything you can do to help it, though.” She shrugged and added with a wry half-smile, “Not unless you can make Clark magically appear.”

Superman did a double take. “What was that?”

Lois shook her head. “Nothing,” she said with a sad sigh. “Clark’s in Smallville for a funeral.” She shrugged again. “I miss him.”

Superman just stared at her for a moment, looking a little nonplussed. Then a smile slowly dawned. “Don’t move,” he said, and the smile bloomed into a grin.

While she was still trying to get her tired brain to function properly, Superman strode to the window, opened it, and flew away.

Lois walked over to the window and closed it. A knock sounded on her front door. Who could that be? No, wait…he couldn’t have…could he?

Trying not to get her hopes up, Lois forced herself to walk calmly to the door and look through the peep-hole. He did! He had!

***

Clark heard a delighted squeal and Lois’s door flew open. “Clark!” She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the apartment. “Oh my god! I can’t believe he brought you here all the way from Smallville!” She turned to face him, an appraising look briefly flashing across her face. “Wow, that was fast!” she frowned. Then she shook her head as if to clear it. “Whatever! Who cares? You’re here!” And she threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

Clark chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him and basking in the warmth of her welcome. After a minute she lifted her head and looked up at him. “You came,” she said quietly.

“Of course I came,” he said, smiling down at her. “You needed me.”

A tear leaked out of one eye and rolled down her cheek. “Yeah,” she said, “I really did.”

He pulled her into another hug. “Well, here I am,” he said. Looking down at her again, he used his thumb to brush the tear away and asked gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not really. It was just one of those days. My alarm didn’t go off, I washed out with Bobby Bigmouth—and every other snitch I know—nothing went right at work, I had a headache all day, and then, just to top it all off, a wasp got in and stung me before I could eat dinner.” She held up her stung hand and pouted at him like a little girl.

“Oh, honey! I’m sorry!” He picked up her hand and kissed the stung spot. “Better?” he asked.

*****

Honey. He’d called her honey. Like a little girl? Like a little sister with a boo-boo that he’d kissed all better? Or like—no. No, it would be too much to hope for. He’d loved her once, she knew, but he’d taken it back, and she never blamed him for that. She couldn’t. She turned away, not wanting him to see the longing and the crushing disappointment that she couldn’t keep off her face. In a minute she’d have her emotions back under control. She was tired, that was all.

Then she saw his reflection in the darkened window. He met her eyes in the glass, and she knew. He’d seen it all. The tears flowed freely now, and she had no idea what to say to him, how to make it better and get them back on solid footing.

Swiftly, he came to stand in front of her and gathered her to him. “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “It was just a bad day. Tomorrow will be better.” One hand came up to stroke her hair. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

A stab of pain shot through her heart at the endearment. If only he meant it the way she wished he did, instead of like a big brother. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and then he scooped her up like a child and carried her to the loveseat, settling her on his lap. He held her back upright with one arm, and with the other hand he wiped the tears from her face. Utterly undone by his intimate touches, she put her hand over his, intending to stop him. But then she looked up and saw the way he was looking at her. It was anything but brotherly. All the frustrated longing that had shown on her own face minutes ago was reflected back at her from his. Both of them froze.

And then she was kissing him—frantically, fiercely. Her hands stroked his face and neck, and then her fingers buried themselves in his hair. When she felt the need for air, she pulled back and rested her forehead against his, their hands still holding each other’s faces. “Please, Clark,” she breathed, “please don’t tell me you didn’t mean that the way it seemed.” She kept her eyes closed, not willing to see the sympathy or pity she feared she would meet in his eyes.

Gently, he lifted her chin, and she dared to open her eyes. The look she met removed all doubt. “God, Lois!” His voice was gravelly. “I meant it in every way you could possibly take it.” He let go of her chin and cradled her jaw instead, his thumb wiping across her cheek. “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

She closed her eyes again in sheer relief and took a breath. When she opened them again, he was looking down at her, the longing replaced at last with hope…and love.

“Oh, Clark!” she breathed. “I love you so much! It was such a rotten day, and by the end of it, all I wanted was you.”

He kissed her again, tenderly this time, and held her close.

“Well, here I am, and I always will be, for as long as you want me.”

“That could be a very long time,” she warned him.

She heard his sigh in her ear as he hugged her even closer. “I sure hope so,” was all he said.