In this story, Clark planned to go to Smallville instead of having Martha and Jonathan come to Metropolis for Christmas in HIWTHI, so Lois and Clark visit Smallville for a post-Christmas ‘yay Clark’s alive’ celebration. Things get a little… weird… once they arrive.

~*~

Clark lowered his arm and let Lois’s feet slide to the ground as his boots thumped down in his parents’ back yard. He spun into jeans and a flannel shirt, then stepped up onto the porch and opened the door to let Lois into the house.

“Mom? Dad? We’re here!” he called, ushering his fiancée inside with a hand on the small of her back.

Martha came into the living room from the kitchen and rushed over to them as they froze with surprise. She hugged Lois briefly, then threw her arms around Clark for a more emotional embrace.

“Oh Clark, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Martha sounded near tears for a moment, then collected herself and released her son. “I’ll go tell your dad and get you two some hot chocolate, have a seat and I’ll be right back.” And just like that, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

The couple took a seat on the sofa and stared at the kitchen doorway for a moment, then Lois turned to Clark.

“Is your mom feeling ok?” she asked tentatively.

Clark’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “I’m not sure, did she seem a little off to you, too?”


“You mean because she had her robe on in the middle of the day, or because it was inside out, or because she—?” Lois cut herself off and shifted uneasily on her cushion. “Maybe I should—” Just then Martha bustled back in with Jonathan at her heels.

Jonathan hurried over to the sofa as Clark stood, then threw his arms around the younger man. “Clark! It’s so good to see you, son! We were so worried when we heard you were sick — it’s a good thing Lois and her father were there to take care of you for us!”

“Yeah Dad, I’m really lucky everything turned out so well!” said Clark awkwardly, as he tried not to stroke the short silky red cape that was pinned to the shoulders of his dad’s inside-out bathrobe. “Speaking of being sick, are you and Mom feeling ok?”

Jonathan stepped back a tad stiffly and shot Martha a sidelong look. “No, no, everything’s fine… say, are you kids hungry? We were thinking you might enjoy a little post-Christmas dinner!”

“Yeah, come on into the kitchen!” Martha enthused. “I made all of Clark’s favorites!”

Lois smiled brightly as she rose to her feet from the sofa. “Sure, that sounds great! I can never get enough Kent cooking!” She shot Clark a concerned look as she and her fiancé followed his parents into the other room, then slammed into Clark’s shoulder blades nose-first as he came to an abrupt stop two steps past the kitchen threshold. She popped up onto her toes and craned over his shoulder as she rubbed her nose and complained, “Ow! A little warning, please...!” then trailed off into silence and boggled at the spread on the table.

Clark glanced over his shoulder at Lois, now clearly worried. In place of Martha’s usual stellar cooking, the table was covered with dishes of oddly shaped and colored… stuff. There was a large bowl of bright fluffy orange stuff, a platter filled with murky blue slices of something, a few sickly yellow things, and one large domed lump that was a definitely unnatural fire engine red. It almost looked like the Neverland feast from Hook, a movie that Clark had enjoyed a few years before (Lois had enjoyed it too, but was more reluctant to admit it).

“Son,” Jonathan was saying, “we’re sure grateful to Dr. Lane. Your Mom and I will have to find a way to thank him. Does he like pie?”

“Oh yes,” said Martha, “I’ll be happy to bake him whatever he likes! Pie, cookies, a cake; we’re just so happy you’re well and that you and Lois were able to make it out here. Thank — er — praise Rao!”

Clark was at his wit’s end. “Mom, Dad, what the heck is going on here? What is all this stuff?” He gestured at the colorful spread and burst out. “And who the heck is Rao?”

His parents looked at each other, wide-eyed, then turned to face the two Metropolites.

“You… you didn’t see the message?” Martha asked tentatively.

“What message?”

“There was a really heavy snowstorm right before Christmas, and a huge branch broke off your treehouse tree. Your dad took a ladder and got your things out of the treehouse in case it got damaged, and that night there was another message from your globe,” she explained. “I guess you were too sick to notice.”

Clark looked stricken that he’d missed a message from his biological father, and Lois stepped around him to ask what the message had been.

“Seems like Christmas isn’t just popular here on Earth!” Jonathan explained. “I didn’t catch the name of it, but your people had a winter celebration too. Your mom and I thought it might be nice to honor your heritage with some of their traditions. Let’s all have a seat.”

Lois and Clark glanced at each other, then took their places at the table

Once they were settled, Martha handed the serving utensils to Clark. “Honey? You want to do the honors?”

Clark was still a little stunned, but his parents seemed pretty excited and he hated to burst their bubble, so he chose a dish at random and sank the knife into it. He selected the large unnaturally red dish and, to his vast relief, discovered that beneath the eye-watering crust it was a normal-looking deep-dish apple pie.

Martha’s forehead creased in chagrin. “I was able to make everything look the way it did in the hologram, but I only had Earth ingredients to work with. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

Lois scooted up closer to the table, weak with relief. Between Clark and Martha she’d gotten spoiled to good cooking and had been afraid she was going to have to revert to choking something down to be polite. “Not at all! We can deal with food coloring, can’t we, Clark?” She struggled not to laugh from the sudden rush of relief at the realization that her future in-laws hadn’t lost their minds from too much quiet country living.

Clark agreed that they could, then filled everyone’s plates with what turned out to be orange mashed potatoes and blue roast beef. A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their full attention to Martha’s delicious cooking and studiously addressed themselves to their dinners.

When everyone’s plates were clean, Martha started to stand. “Is anyone still hungry? That green thing on the counter is a spice cake that I thought Clark might like if you don’t want pie.”

Clark rose to his feet. “No, Mom, please sit back down. Cake can wait — there’s something I need to say to you and Dad first.”

Martha and Jonathan shared an apprehensive look, then turned their attention back to Clark. “Go ahead, son,” said Jonathan.

Clark cleared his throat and glanced at Lois, who gave him an encouraging smile. “Mom, Dad, I can’t tell you how scared I was last week. It broke my heart to think that I might die without getting another chance to tell you both how much I love you, and what wonderful parents you’ve been to me.” The older Kents smiled at him, reassured. “I’m sorry that I missed another message from the globe, but I’m glad you two were here to hear it for me.” Clark looked down at the table, then raised his head and made sure to catch the eyes of both parents. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not grateful for the trouble you went to, because I am so grateful, but I also want you to understand that I don’t really think of myself as being from Krypton. Lara and Jor El were my biological parents, who gave me life and then moved heaven and earth to save that life, and I’ll always be grateful to them for it, but my heritage is the two of you and this room and this farm.”

Martha reached out and Clark took her hand. “Ever since we saw you in that capsule, we’ve loved you. I don’t think I could have loved you more if I’d actually given birth to you. We’re so proud of the man you’ve become, Clark. We love you so much.” She blinked back tears. “Oh, and we love Lois too!”

Lois finally let her giggles escape. “Rao bless us every one, and a Merry Whatever to all!”
~fin~


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"HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE." -Terry Pratchett, Hogfather