Title: His Hair Wasn't Mussed

Author: Christina/spygirl

Rating: G

Summary: Slight mystery fic. Who's it about? Where are they? Could be about Lana, Chloe, Lois, Lex, or Clark. Or even Jonathan and Martha.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or even any of these (unknown) characters. :D

Thanks: to Amy for reading this over and telling me what she thought:)

A/N: I've decided that this is an open fic (meaning that whoever you picture, that's who it's about). I'm curious what you think, so please leave a comment and let me know what you think. The italicized section is a flashback. :)

She knew she wasn't being a model hostess. The "event" was centered on her and she couldn't even take her eyes off the man in front of her. She heard the murmurs behind her, the whispered smiles, the few children present pleading for cake. Well, she'd tend to that in a minute. She indulged herself for a moment and simply filled her eyes with him.

Starting her gaze on his warm eyes, she grinned at him before taking in his cream-colored suit coat. The hue matched him and contrasted nicely with the dark cranberry vest that peeked out beneath the overcoat. His rich red tie, a shade lighter than the vest, was snug about his collar. His pants fit well and looked even better, though he'd protested the sharp, ironed creases. His shoes, reflecting the calm candlelight that filled the room, were also cream, selected to match the coat and pants. She'd teased him about those, telling him that they looked dorky. He'd retorted that she'd chosen her dress, so he could choose his attire; besides, he knew she secretly approved.

Yep, no doubt about it. He looked handsome.

And yet… she couldn't put her finger on it. Something was wrong. Something was missing. Something was…off. She frowned slightly in concentration, her eyes trailing back to his face and then higher. Bingo.

His hair had been perfect as he'd exited the house, but even from her spot she saw the wind roughly shove the soft, wavy locks askew, though a comb had smoothed them only minutes before. He realized it too, and his hand moved of its own accord as it attempted to fix the hopeless mess.

He stopped in front of her, both his smile and the expression in his eyes breathtaking. She unconsciously lifted a hand to her own hair as he kept trying to right the injustice done to his hair by the wind. Giving up, a full grin reached his lips as he looked down at her. She gulped and her eyes seemed stuck on the place his hand had vacated.

His hair was mussed. He looked perfect.

Pushing back the memory, she smirked and eyed him once more. His hair wasn't mussed. That was the problem. Lifting her hand, she motioned him close. He wore a cautious grin, but moved so he was a breath away. With an impish wink, she grabbed for his tie and yanked him nearer still, meeting his lips with hers. Her other hand free, she reached up to the back of his head and nudged him closer with her palm. Then, giving him no time to react, she ran her fingers through his silky strands. Making absolutely certain the hair no longer had its dignity, she pulled back and beamed. "There!" she exclaimed, admiring her handiwork.

His eyes laughing, he met her gaze with his. Sensing his silent question, she whispered, "I'll tell you later." She paid no heed to the surrounding chuckles as she pulled him over to the table displaying a particularly delightful-looking cake. She handed him the knife and studied him again as he turned to the dessert. His tender look proclaimed love for her as he glanced over and their eyes met.

His hair was mussed; she smiled. And he looked perfect.