Title: Now and Then

Author: Sundroptea

Rating: M (M! M! M! NO KIDS!)

Pairing: Lois/Clark (is there any other?)

Summary: Lois Lane wakes up in Las Vegas with Clark Kent in her bed. Life sort of spirals out of control from there..

Disclaimer: If I owned any part of this show… God, I'm drooling a little just imagining it. I don't though, so please don't sue me.

Author's Note: Hi, y'all! Please don't ask me what season this takes place in. I'm just going with AU season nine, or late season eight. Or something. I'm sorry. This is what I get for abandoning a story for a year. Though I maintain that it wasn't so much abandoned, because I never forgot about it and always tried to work on it… Thank god for this season of Clois because it's amazing what a little onscreen hotness can do for my writing mojo. This is posted on Divine Intervention, too, so if you feel like maybe you might have read it somewhere… you may have. I finally overcame my block on this story so I figured I'd post it here. I hope you guys like it. Thank you very much to everyone who reads and reviews and CAN A I GET A WOOT FOR SEASON NINE?

***

~Now~

The hand on her stomach was a dead giveaway that something was different in her life. For starters, it wasn't her hand. Her sleepy eyes crossed as she examined it, out of focus, not at all awake enough to wonder why she wasn't panicking.

Secondly, it was a male hand, and it was curled possessively against her skin, cupping her body just below her belly button. Hmm. It looked nice there, she decided fuzzily. It could stay while she woke up more.

She was so comfortable; that boneless languor that comes with being warm and happy weighed in every limb and she wasn't ready to move. She nuzzled a bit into the pillow, and in doing so realized that it wasn't a pillow at all, but a bicep- presumably belonging to the owner of the hand.

Makes sense, she deduced. I wouldn't argue the point. Her eyes drifted shut again; the heat radiating off the man behind her was just too soothing for words.

It was a nice bicep, and it was doing an excellent job as her headrest, so she rewarded it with a brush of her lips before she settled back into the crook of it. Mmm. Skin smells nice too. Double points.

The action seemed to rouse the man behind her, because she felt him shift, using the arm around her to pull her more fully against him. Liberties, she thought, completely at ease with it. Perfectly all right. I'm excellent to snuggle, and you may feel free. He mumbled something incoherent, and goose bumps sprung up when she felt the rumble of it against her back.

She reached down, mostly back to sleep by now, to pull the blankets up over them both. Firm lips pressed to her neck, she assumed in thanks. You're welcome, space heater. Anytime.

She looped her fingers through the ones on her stomach, and smiled, not knowing why. Different doesn't always have to be bad, she told herself. If life always changes in the yummy/comfortable direction, you're ahead of the game.

***

~Then~

"If that paw moves so much as one scant inch more in this direction, Smallville, I'm going to break it off, and I'm going to do it with glee."

She didn't turn to see that he'd dropped his arm and was scowling in her direction, but he guessed she maybe caught the sentiment from the way her lip twitched. She didn't look impressed.

"Look, buddy, I told you when the movie started: the Devil Dogs belong to me. They were a gift, from both my sister, and the chocolate gods, and as such they are not to be trifled with. Now sit back, and content yourself with the other, admittedly lesser, snacks available." She looked over the table disinterestedly and picked up the lone bag of carrot sticks she had brought as a joke. The unopened package thumped him in the chest. He eyed it crossly.

"Lois, has anyone ever told you that you're almost too generous?" He pinched the bag between two fingers and flung it away, crossing his arms, and forgoing snacks altogether. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Now why would you go and ask a pointed question like that, farmboy?"

Clark smirked before going in for the kill. "Because my parents always raised me not to lie, and if someone ever told a whopper like that, I would feel it my moral duty to set them straight."

He caught her feet as they kicked at him, and held her ankles so she wouldn't hurt herself. He smiled at her, liking the way she wrinkled her nose at him, conceding that he had the upper hand in this case. He kept hold of her even after she stopped, tucking a blanket over her cold toes and wedging them against his warm side in a gesture that was completely instinctual on his part. She must have forgotten her slippers again. He turned back to the movie, and within a minute was back in the world of giant metal monsters and military subterfuge.

Lois didn't say anything, just wiggled her toes a bit to get comfortable, but halfway through the movie he noticed that there was an unaccounted for Devil Dog on his side of the couch.

***

~Now~

The next time she woke up, she actually woke up. She yawned, and started to sit up, strangely reluctant to remove the arm around her, but needing badly to stretch. Something caught her eye as she did so.

Something on her finger.

Her ring finger.

A ring on her ring finger- no, a set.

A set of rings, on her ring finger, on her left hand.

Consciousness hit.

She whirled around and faced the man who was sporting a matching band, and her eyes widened. She was married. She was married. She was married.

To Clark Kent.

Oh, snap, she thought.