Well, I haven't posted fic in EONS, but here's one I wrote up this week.
Missy, on the challenge boards, mentioned a fic title in the "Write a fic from a title" challenge thread - Clark's To Do List.
That's what this one started out to be, but then it took on a life of it's own, as fics are want to do. So instead of Clark's To Do List... we get this.
Thanks to Missy for BRing this for me this afternoon!
This is set in early-mid S2.
And now without further ado...
*****
To Do Lists
*****
Lois grumbled as she looked at her to do list. There was no way she’d ever get it all done – not even if she crossed off “Talk to Superman”. The superhero, it seemed, had been in Asia overnight after a train wreck in Japan was followed by a mudslide in China. She’d seen him after big rescues and knew that, even though he seemed invulnerable, they took a lot out of him. It wouldn’t surprise her if she, or Metropolis, didn’t see him the rest of the day.
So what else was on the list? If talking to Superman wasn’t going to happen, then she needed to get some other things done. She picked up the notebook and stared at it.
1. Finish story on LexLab scandal.
Check. She just wished Clark had been here to help with it. He wasn’t answering his phone. As much as she hated to admit it, he was pretty good – and as much as she hated him editing her copy – occasionally he had a good idea or two.
2. Talk to Bobby about Hob’s Bay story.
Check. She’d brought him 5 courses from his favorite Italian restaurant. And what had she gotten from him? Nothing. A big fat... well, almost nothing. He’d given her a little bit of information – that there was a warehouse involved, but that was it. He had feelers out...
3. Get a new plant for desk.
Check. Her last one had finally died from all the coffee she poured in it. She’d picked one up on the way in.
4. Talk to Superman.
No check there. In fact, none of the rest of the items on her list had checks.
5. Pick up dry cleaning.
Easy enough – she’d pick it up on the way home from work. If she got out of here early enough, before they closed.
6. Stop at grocery store for milk, eggs, and chocolate.
Another thing to do on the way home.
7. Work on outline of novel for NaNoWriMo.
National Novel Writing Month was in just a few weeks and she hadn’t even started her outline. It was rolling around in her head but... 50,000 words in one month... Well, she did write that much in most months – any reporter worth her salt did, but this had to be fiction. She’d started several novels over the last few years, but this time she actually wanted to finish it. Her eyes took on a dreamy quality. Maybe this year she’d write about Superman. Last year’s novel had been about Superman sweeping an intrepid reporter off her feet and they’d run off to Vegas, where they overcame the little ‘alien’ obstacle and gotten married – no “A” plot, pure unadulterated, romantic, Superfluff.
The more she thought about it, the more she thought that Superman wasn’t the best topic for this year. A romance novel, sure. But not about Superman and not without some sort of “A” Plot. Maybe two intrepid reports against a masochistic billionaire running Gotham City – because if it was set in Metropolis, that would be too obvious – with a superhero, of course, but not Superman. Superman was bright and colorful, someone darker would be less obvious – but with Superman’s character, not like the comic book character, Batman’s. Maybe not darker after all.
Magnificent Man?
Wonder Man?
Fabulous Man?
Tremendous Man?
Marvelous Man?
Fantastic Man?
Splendid Man?
Superb Man?
Brilliant Man?
She hated that she had to use the thesaurus on her computer. Clark would have been able to spout those off the top of his head. Splendid or Superb Man would go along with the S on his chest, but maybe it would be better to change what she had been told was his Kryptonian family crest.
Brilliant Man?
As much as she hated to admit it, that described Clark Kent to a T. The dreamy quality in her eyes deepened. Clark was brilliant. He was wonderful and tremendous and fabulous and splendid and superb and...
She sat up straight. Clark was her best friend and she had admitted that for some time, but when had she started thinking of Clark as marvelous?
She turned as she heard whistling behind her. Yep, there he was. She studied him as he stopped for a cup of coffee and a handful of donuts.
She realized he never had answered the question she’d asked him over a year ago – how did he eat like an eight-year-old and look like Mr. Hardbody? She wouldn’t call him Mr. Hardbody again, but she didn’t remember ever seeing him working out or hearing him mention the gym. Oh, sure he played sports with Jimmy and some of the guys, but most people would have to work out 2-3 hours a day to get abs like that.
His brown hair fell in waves over his forehead, a wide grin split his face as he spoke with Jimmy, laughing over some joke or another. And how could she ever have thought his eyes looked like mud? They were a gorgeous chocolate brown. If only she could get him to take those glasses off every once in a while so she could get a better look at them.
She studied the mental picture of him as he moved out of her line of sight. The well-formed arms had held her on a regular basis, against that strong chest as she cried or when she was scared or startled during a movie. She felt safe in those arms. Safer than she’d ever felt. Even safer than she’d ever felt with Superman.
Oh, sure he was handy to have around when sitting on a nuclear bomb or if bullets were flying around, but Clark... Clark was real, very real. And he didn’t belong to the world.
“Lois?”
A voice broke through her reverie. “Huh?” She looked up. There was Clark, smiling at her and offering her a cup of coffee and a donut. She suddenly felt a bit shy. “Oh, hi, Clark.”
He pulled up a chair, flipped it backwards and straddled it. “What’s up?”
She smiled at him. “Nothing. Just going over my ‘to do’ list.”
“Is there anything on there I can help you with?”
“No, not really. And don’t you have your own list of things to do today?”
“Well, yeah, I do.”
“Okay. Tell you what. Let’s trade lists. You do mine and I’ll do yours. I don’t want to do mine.” She held out her hand. “Hand it over, Kent.”
He laughed. “No can do.”
“Why not? You don’t think I can handle writing up the dog show?”
“You weren’t even there, Lois.”
“So, I can make it up. I have covered dog shows before and they’re all pretty much the same. Just tell me who the winners were and I can wing it from there.”
Clark laughed. “I already wrote up the dog show, but that’s not it. I don’t have a list, per se. It’s all in my head.”
“You don’t make a ‘to do’ list every day?” She was incredulous. There was no way she’d get near as much done as she usually did without a list.
“Oh, I have a list. I just don’t write it down. It’s all...” he tapped the side of his head. “... up here.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You can remember your to do list without writing it down?”
“Yep.”
She shook her head. “I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work. I inevitably forget something. Usually the most important thing. How come you don’t?”
He grinned again. “Photographic memory.”
She groaned. “Figures.”
*****
Clark hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. It was almost six in the evening and he was ready to go.
"So did you get it all done?"
"Hmm?"
"Your to do list." Lois perched on the edge of his desk. "Did you get it all done?"
"Oh, that. Let me think..." He silently reviewed his list. "Nope. Not all of it. Most of it but not all."
"So tell me what you have left and maybe I can help."
"Oh, it's not that big a deal. Not much left really. How about you?"
"Well, I need to pick up my dry cleaning and stop by the store and..."
"And what?"
He watched her sigh. "I have to work on my outline for NaNoWriMo."
"Ah that. Mine's done."
"YOU?! You are going to try to write a novel this year?"
"Yep. Finished the last two years. Didn't find out about it until about halfway through November the year before that and only ended up with about 40,000 words."
She glared at him. He cringed just a bit. She couldn't have been happy about that. He'd groaned when he saw her novel outline for last year. A Superman romance. Fortunately, they'd been so busy that she hadn't actually written much of it.
"How on earth did you finish last year? We were so busy last November! I barely hit 10,000 words!"
"But Lois, last year wasn't your novel all about Superman?"
She sputtered. "How did you know that?!"
He grinned at her. "I guessed. I'd imagine you spent too much time daydreaming and not enough time writing."
She sighed. He was right. She'd daydreamed the month away.
"So what was on your list?"
"Uh..." Should he tell her what was on her list? Some of it was safe enough, but not all of it. Especially not the one thing that was on the top of his list every day, but somehow managed never to get done.
"What, Clark? Something embarrassing? Did you forget to return that movie today?"
He groaned. She would bring up one of his most often used excuses.
"Let's see... I had to write up the dog show..."
"Done."
"I had to write up the Superman story from last night - the Asian stuff..."
"You did that. I meant to ask you how you got that story."
"I, uh, ran into Superman earlier."
"You always manage to do that."
He shrugged. "Drop off my dry cleaning."
"Did you get that done yet?"
"Yep."
"Next?"
"Um, finish my NaNoWriMo outline."
"I thought you already did that."
He winced. She'd caught him on that one. "Well, it needed some tweaking."
"Uh huh. What else?"
"Ask you if you want to go to dinner with me."
She blinked, caught off guard. "Dinner?"
"Yeah." He lightly grasped one of her hands in his. "Not just two partners going out to dinner, or even two friends, but us. I want to take you to dinner."
She smiled shyly at him. "Just us?"
"Yeah. Just you and me. And maybe some pasta."
"I could go for some pasta."
Clark stood and offered her his arm. It tingled a bit where she lightly grasped the inside of his elbow. "And maybe chocolate cake for desert?"
"You do know the way to a girl's heart, Kent." They headed towards the elevator, unaware of the dozens of sets of eyes on them. "So, what else was on your list? Besides asking me to dinner?"
"Ah, I need to, um, call my mom about getting a couple of stains out of a suit or two." What he didn't tell her was that they were bomb stains in his Super Suits.
"Wouldn't the dry cleaners take care of that?"
"Ah, not these."
"Well, what kind of sta..."
Clark had never been so glad for the arrival of the elevator. He moved his hand to the small of Lois' back, smiling slightly as he heard her heart rate increase slightly. He had more of an effect on her than she wanted him to know.
*****
An hour and a half later, it was all Clark could do to stifle a groan as Lois ate a bite of his chocolate cake.
He loved her.
With all his heart, he loved her.
It hadn't taken long after he met her to realize it. He could only hope that she was starting to feel the same way.
They left the restaurant and he tucked her hand in his elbow again, his other hand protectively over the top of it.
She leaned in to him slightly, sighing softly before speaking. "So, did you get the rest of it all done?"
"What?"
"The rest of your list."
"Oh. Most of it. I still haven't talked to my mom."
"Right."
They were in Centennial Park, nearing the fountain that stood in the middle.
"Anything else, Clark?"
He took a deep breath and turned to look at her. "Just this."
