Power Out
By Lisa
Email: lc7685@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don't own this show or its characters
Rating: PG-13 (I "think" - I'm not familiar with US ratings) for sexual
references
Summary: Set when clark's about 12/13 - Martha and Jonathan take a day off
"Mornin'," Jonathan greeted as he walked inside. Martha was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through the newspaper. She looked up and smiled at him. "Slept in, did we?"
"You could have woken me up," Martha replied as he leant down and kissed her gently.
"Not when you looked so good sleepin' there." She raised an eyebrow.
"Power's out." She changed the subject, knowing that if they kept flirting as they were things were going to heat up, and there was work to be done.
"Out?" Jonathan asked, making sure he heard right.
"Oh yeah. No lights, no microwave, no fans for Chrissakes," she listed off. "It's a hot one today as well."
"Is it just us?"
"No, Nell called and apparently hers is out as well. We did a bit of a ring around and it seems it's a fault with the lines."
"Phone's are working."
"Oh yes."
"Okay then." Jonathan stated abruptly, moving away from her and taking a seat at the other side of the table. "Day off."
"Day.off? You know what those words mean?" He laughed.
"I think I can recall.something.involves not doing anything, right?" Martha smirked.
"Jonathan, last night you were complaining for at least half an hour about all the work you had to do-"
"I know. I did ten percent of it this morning. The other ninety percent involves me hooking up some kind of machinery to a power point."
"What time did you get up this morning?" Martha exclaimed.
"About an hour earlier than usual. I couldn't sleep," he added when she gave him a horrified look. He smirked. "How many years you been out here? And you still enjoy your sleep-ins."
"I'm entitled to them every now and then," she replied. "So you're finished for the day then?" She looked up at him, closing the paper.
"Looks like it," he sighed, looking around the house. "You have much to do?"
"Can't. No washing machine, so there's no clothes to hang out, no iron, no cooking. Ordinarily I'd be out helping you, except that you've done - Are you *sure* you've done everything?"
"Yeah!" Jonathan exclaimed, laughing. "You think I'd chuck a sickie?"
"Maybe. There's always a first."
"I've chucked sickies before."
"Oh, I know you have... All right. So we both have nothing to do..." she drifted off, eyeing the headline again. "What time is it?"
"Nine," Jonathan replied. "Clark make the bus?"
"Barely."
"Hmm..." he thought. "We could go for a walk." He looked at Martha hopefully and she smiled.
"Sure." As he stood she called him back. "Jonathan, catch-" She threw him an apple.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Breakfast," she replied, jogging upstairs. "I'll just grab some shoes."
*
Jonathan took Martha's hand easily in his as they left the house.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked her. She swung their arms gently.
"Wherever. Let's stick to the shade though, okay?"
They walked slowly for about half an hour, before they got to a clearing in between a line of their crops and the tall trees of one of the adjoining blocks of land, currently empty. Martha went and sat on the ground, leaning back against the tree, while Jonathan walked a bit further, peering past the trees.
"Someone should really clean this up," he called. Martha didn't turn her head past the tree she was leaning against to see him, looking up at the blue sky instead.
"You don't have time," she reminded him.
"Not me, I said 'someone'-" He heard her laughing and walked back. "Pity there's no one there." She turned her head as he took a seat a little way behind her, and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into him.
"Mm..." Martha replied. "There hasn't been anyone there in a long while though. Not since Jeff left- You heard anything?"
"They got a place in Metropolis, got married. I assume they've got children by now. It was ten years ago." Martha didn't reply and Jonathan could see that her eyes were closed. "Martha?" he asked quietly, tracing a gentle line across her waist, hoping that he hadn't upset her by mentioning the 'c' word: children.
"Just thinking," she replied.
"Martha-"
"Yes?" she asked, her eyes still closed.
"Do you ever think about having a career? You know, like Lucy- Jeff giving up his whole life to go and live in Metropolis. You ever wish I did that?" She hesitated, before shaking her head.
"Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to have a career. You know, put my degree to use."
"It would sure beat reading the financial section of the paper every morning-"
"Jonathan," she sighed, but he cut her off.
"Martha I know you set-"
"Don't say it, I did nothing of the sort." She pulled away from him, opened her eyes and stared him down. "You're thinking about it the wrong way around." Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "I'm not Lucy, I'm nothing like Lucy. I'm Jeff." Jonathan laughed.
"Are you?"
"Yes. I had all the skill, all the qualifications to fit in where I was, but I didn't want to. I'd grown up there, but I needed a change. You, sweetheart, are Lucy. It was your career that came first-"
"Yours should have come first also-" Martha's brow creased in frustration.
"Who've you been talking to? My father didn't visit you in your sleep, did he?"
"No."
"Then what?" she asked, breaking into a smile. She was intrigued. Jonathan hadn't brought this line of conversation up for many, many years. She always assumed that he had accepted the fact that she was there, and that was that.
"I found this the other day-" he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to his wife. She looked it over, recognising the postage stamp and opening it. "And I was talking to Nell yesterday, and she pointed out a couple of things-"
"Like?" Martha asked, instantly suspicious. Nell had been in a horrible mood all week, and was hardly tolerable. Ordinarily Martha tried to avoid conversations with her. Nell blamed her for being alone, and there was nothing they could do to change the way things were between them. "Jonathan, she's been in a terrible mood all week. Don't listen to a thing she says, and this," she folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope and handed it back to him. "-was a letter my father wrote to me just after I told him we were married. See the date?"
"Yeah, I saw it." Martha looked at him, exasperated. They were out in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, and this was not going the way she had hoped.
"And so?" Jonathan looked at her, her eyes wide and searching his in confusion. "I don't understand where this is-"
"I just, I want ya to know, that I know I've taken your being here all this time for granted and I- I never really told ya-" Martha smiled.
"Jonathan how long have we been married?"
"Nearly twelve years," he replied, grinning.
"You don't think that if I was feeling as though you were taking me for granted, I would've left a long, long time ago?" She grinned back and he couldn't help it, he laughed.
"Yeah, yeah I guess. God, has it really been that long?"
"Apparently. Who knew?" She turned back around and lay back in his arms. "So we're okay now?"
"Yeah," Jonathan replied. "I just-"
"You just nothing!" she exclaimed, sitting back up and laughing, her head in her hands. She reached back and took one of his, pulling him up as she stood. "Come on, let's get back." She started walking but Jonathan didn't, pulling her back to him with substantial force. Martha fell into his chest and their lips met after only a moments hesitation, enough time for Jonathan to state, "Not so fast missus." They kissed deeply, before Martha loosened herself from him and pulled back smiling. "That makes up for the last, oh, ten minutes of taking me for granted-"
"Got a lot of catchin' up to do then I think," Jonathan managed, smiling and holding her close as they made their way back to the house.
"I'm sure you'll manage," Martha smirked, still feeling light-headed because of that kiss. Damn, he could still do it to her.
*
Jonathan opened the back door and let Martha in ahead of him, and just as they closed it, there was a knock on the front door. Jonathan sighed loudly.
"I'll get it," he offered. "Can ya get me a drink of water?"
"Well there's nothing else," Martha replied, walking into the kitchen. She glanced out the kitchen window and noticed Nell's car parked partway along the driveway. Way to ruin the atmosphere, she thought to herself, eavesdropping on the doorway conversation.
*
"Nell," Jonathan began as he opened the door.
"Sorry to disturb you-"
"Ah, no problems."
"How's your power?" Jonathan realised he didn't know. Without having to ask Martha popped her head around the corner, smiling at Nell.
"Hi Nell. Still off," she answered, raising her eyebrows in mock frustration as she handed Jonathan a glass of water. She then went back into the kitchen, out of view.
"Ah, right," Nell replied. "You're looking flustered Jonathan. Been busy?"
"I guess," Jonathan managed as he finished off the glass of water. "What can we do for you?"
"I have a flat tyre, and was wondering if you could give me some help with it-"
"Sure. You got a spare?"
"Yeah, in the trunk." She handed him the keys and he let the front door bang behind him as he followed her out, setting the glass on the porch. "Sorry about this-"
"No problem. How did you get here?"
"Very slowly." They both laughed as Jonathan knelt down to inspect the damage.
*
Jonathan waved Nell off some time later as she reversed and turned to drive away. Walking back to the house, he saw Martha sitting on the front porch.
"You been there long?" he asked. She smiled.
"A little while. Came looking for your glass." Jonathan glanced down and saw it sitting next to her. "Realised I should sit down for a while, enjoy the afternoon breeze."
"We really spent that much time out there today?"
"Long enough. Nell have any insights?"
"She makes you nervous, doesn't she?"
"You know damn well she makes me nervous." Jonathan shrugged.
"Now, where were we?" Martha shook her head. "What?"
"Not until you wash your hands-"
"Let's think about that." She raised an eyebrow, and before she had a chance to even begin thinking, Jonathan had placed his right hand along her left cheek, drawing her to him. As they pulled back he applied a certain amount of pressure to her cheeks, leaving a dark smear.
"Bastard," she laughed.
"If it's any consolation-"
"Don't tell me it looks sexy because I know it doesn't-"
"Whatever you say gorgeous." He held up his hand. "Want some more?" She shook her head, preparing to stand. He reached out for her wrist and she involuntarily shrieked as he pulled her back down. She kicked him gently in the side, making it to the front door before he caught her. She spun around just before he pinned her to the door, so that when he did she was facing him. They watched each other daringly.
"You know I could hurt you badly right about now," Martha warned.
"If you kneed me you wouldn't get nothing from me."
"I said I wanted something?" she asked innocently.
"You said enough," Jonathan whispered, his face dangerously close to hers.
"The power should get cut more often if it leaves us nothing better to do than this," she whispered back, watching him intently.
"Better? I wouldn't call playing with chainsaws better than this-" He leant down and kissed her gently, his hands slipping closer. Martha grabbed his hands, pulling them away from her.
"No way, I don't want grease all over my clothes-" Jonathan reached behind her and opened the front door, holding her back up so that she didn't fall back as he swung it open.
"Well we'll just have to remove them, won't we?" Martha's eyes shone as she closed the front door behind her.
*
Clark hurried home, realising he was going to be in deep trouble if he wasn't home by dark. He'd been distracted by Chloe and Pete, and hadn't realised the sky outside had become a deep orange.
"Gotta go," he told Chloe, almost as soon as she'd exclaimed that she knew the perfect headline for her latest story - she'd just gotten a position at The Torch.
He slowed as he got to the house, realising the kitchen light wasn't on. Usually by this time his mother, and sometimes his father with her, were getting dinner ready. He noticed the glass sitting on the porch, empty and tipped on its side.
"Okay..." he mumbled, picking it up and letting himself in. None of the lights were on he realised, walking into the kitchen and setting the glass on the empty table as he switched on the light. "Mum, dad, I'm home-" he started, looking around the bottom floor before heading upstairs. They were both home, the car and truck were there, and there hadn't been any movement from the sheds. "Hello? Anyone?" Clark called as he walked along the top floor.
"In here Clark," he heard his father call from the bedroom. Finally, an answer, he thought to himself, walking into his parents' bedroom. His father was sitting up in bed, with a battery-powered lamp on, glancing through what appeared to be a bank statement.
"You okay dad? You sick?" Clark asked, never having seen his father in bed this early. He was usually finishing up outside.
"Fine son. You're home early!" Jonathan glanced up at him. Clark looked confused, and to be truthful, he was. "Everything okay at school?"
"Uh, dad, it's quarter to six-"
"Quarter to what?" He looked at the alarm clock beside Martha's bed and realised that the clock hadn't been reset since the power was turned back on within the last half an hour.
"Six," Clark repeated. "Where's mum?"
"In the shower," Jonathan replied simply, and it was only then that he realised there was light shining from under the closed bathroom door. A thought dawned on him and he realised that perhaps there was an alternative reason as to why his father was sitting bare-chested in the bed this early at night.
"I'll be...downstairs," he managed, turning and hurrying back, deciding that he should do his chores outside for a while, to give them both a chance to have a shower.
Martha opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out.
"Hey," she hissed, getting Jonathan's attention. He looked up, and despite the wet hair hanging across her bare shoulders - a towel wrapped around her middle - something didn't quite gel. "I can't get it off!" Jonathan raised an eyebrow, before noticing the grease still smeared on her cheek from earlier. He laughed, reaching down and pulling on his pants before walking into the bathroom to help her. After trying soap, "for the fifth time", as Martha pointed out, Jonathan sighed.
"I'll go and get some detergent," he stated, jogging downstairs. Clark came back inside after speeding through his chores and watched his father running back upstairs with the kitchen detergent in his hand. What were they going to do with that? He thought, before stopping himself. He really didn't want to know.
*
The detergent had worked pretty well, Jonathan observed as he stood opposite her in the kitchen, peeling some carrots. She was concentrating on chopping a capsicum and didn't look up, even though she knew he was watching; she could feel his eyes boring into her. Her cheeks flushed and she heard him laugh softly to himself. After the salad was done Martha set the table and Jonathan went to get Clark.
"Dinner, son!" he called from below Clark's 'room'.
"Comin'," Clark replied, jumping out of his chair and going down to meet his father. "What is it?"
"Salad."
"Salad?" Clark asked. "Is that all?"
"The freezer defrosted today while the power was off. The little meat that was left in there wasn't so great-lookin', and the defrosted stuff your mother put in the fridge this morning didn't fare well either. So yeah, that's all."
"How come you couldn't go and buy more? You had the whole day-"
"You can't tell me you're starving-"
"Well.no."
"If you must know we read the paper, went for a walk, and had a nice day off."
"Didn't go into town?"
"Clark what are you talking about?" Jonathan asked as they walked back into the house.
"Nothing, don't worry," he replied. "Glad you had a good day." They took the plate of salad Martha handed them and sat down.
"Sorry guys, not feeling very creative today."
"That's okay mum," Clark replied, picking up a carrot stick. "Dad, don't peel carrots again- This still has skin on it!"
"Maybe you could do it then? Help your mother out by cooking dinner in three seconds every night?"
"Oh I'd love that," Martha cut in, smiling. "I'll have to teach you sometime."
"Teach me what?"
"How to cook," Jonathan answered. "You'll never get a girl if you can't cook."
"Could you cook when you met mum?"
"Yes, I'll have you know I could. I did a great spaghetti, and those carrots would have been peeled perfectly if I hadn't been so distracted."
"All right!" Clark exclaimed, pushing his plate forward. "I'm done. I'm going to have a shower and I'll uh, be back later." Martha waited until he was gone before she started laughing.
"Jonathan!"
"What?" he asked innocently. "I think he got the picture as soon as I told him you were in the shower and that I wasn't in bed sick, but he's old enough to realise-"
"Of course. Maybe though, we could not flaunt it so openly-"
"Subtle smiles, gentle touches," Jonathan started.
"He's getting older and well, we don't want to make him uncomfortable."
"I agree," Jonathan replied. Martha stood and gathered up the plates, leaning across Jonathan to pick up Clark's. She had plates in both hands when Jonathan issued a proverbial, "But-", taking her around the waist and pulling her onto his lap. "Tonight I just can't resist. I'll clean up." His eyes flicked from Martha's full hands to the table until she put the plates down.
"You have no intention of cleaning up," she smirked, inhaling quickly as he kissed her.
"God you're sexy," he whispered, pulling back and touching her reddened cheek. "Sorry I scratched you-" She laughed.
"I warned you about putting grease on me, didn't I?"
"Yes, yes you did. What are you going to do about it?" She pretended to think.
"We'll see."
*
Jonathan rolled out of bed the next morning and checked the clock. Power working fine - there had been a small glitch later the previous night - and it was five minutes before he was due to start work, as per usual. He pulled on the appropriate clothes - jeans and a flannel shirt - and walked to the other side of the bed with a pair of socks in his hands, sitting next to Martha. He felt her body slide towards him as the mattress dipped.
"Wakey, wakey," he hummed, pulling on one sock, then the other.
"Yeah, yeah," Martha replied, yawning as she stretched out beside Jonathan. "Power on?"
"Yep. Looks like we'll actually have to work today."
"What a disappointment," she replied, sarcasm humorously evident in her tone.
"I'll need a hand this morning to make up for all we didn't do yesterday-"
"Of course." She sat up and Jonathan smiled, reaching out and straightening her hair with his fingers. "I'll be down in ten," she added as he drew his hand away, reaching down for a shoe. "What's first?"
"Chainsaw buddies," Jonathan replied as he left, blowing her a quick kiss before he disappeared. Martha got out of bed and washed her face before getting changed, her fingers lingering on the scratch on her cheek, that was already healing well. She smiled to herself.
There was a cool breeze, she noticed, as she set foot outside. It was going to be a nice day. Jonathan approached her as she entered the shed. "Change of plans," he stated, handing her a welding helmet. "We only have one chainsaw." Martha laughed, holding up the welder.
"Excellent," she laughed, putting the helmet on and pulling down the cover for the eyes. "How do I look?" she asked.
"Armed and dangerous," Jonathan replied. "Just how I like you-" She aimed the torch at him.
"You'll pay for that."
"No, I won't."
"Yeah, you will."
"Subtle, remember?" Jonathan reminded her as Clark entered.
"Woah, mum! Cool!"
"Hi Clark," Martha started, smiling at Jonathan as subtly as she could. She'd get him, she warned him silently.
"Dad could I do that?"
"I'll teach you when you come home, all right?"
"Sure, oh cool!" He turned and ran out of the shed.
"Have a good day!" Martha called behind him. "You think there'll be a day when he no longer thinks we're cool?" Martha asked once it was just the two of them again. She fired up the welder.
"One day," Jonathan replied. "I'll always think we're cool though. Any woman who can handle a welding torch...wow."
Martha grinned, hitting the metal with the heat from the torch and binding it together. And so another day had begun, she thought, smiling to herself, knowing that she and Jonathan would have to take a break from work at some point. In her peripheral vision she saw that he was smiling subtly at her. She couldn't resist, and he knew it.
***
"Mornin'," Jonathan greeted as he walked inside. Martha was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through the newspaper. She looked up and smiled at him. "Slept in, did we?"
"You could have woken me up," Martha replied as he leant down and kissed her gently.
"Not when you looked so good sleepin' there." She raised an eyebrow.
"Power's out." She changed the subject, knowing that if they kept flirting as they were things were going to heat up, and there was work to be done.
"Out?" Jonathan asked, making sure he heard right.
"Oh yeah. No lights, no microwave, no fans for Chrissakes," she listed off. "It's a hot one today as well."
"Is it just us?"
"No, Nell called and apparently hers is out as well. We did a bit of a ring around and it seems it's a fault with the lines."
"Phone's are working."
"Oh yes."
"Okay then." Jonathan stated abruptly, moving away from her and taking a seat at the other side of the table. "Day off."
"Day.off? You know what those words mean?" He laughed.
"I think I can recall.something.involves not doing anything, right?" Martha smirked.
"Jonathan, last night you were complaining for at least half an hour about all the work you had to do-"
"I know. I did ten percent of it this morning. The other ninety percent involves me hooking up some kind of machinery to a power point."
"What time did you get up this morning?" Martha exclaimed.
"About an hour earlier than usual. I couldn't sleep," he added when she gave him a horrified look. He smirked. "How many years you been out here? And you still enjoy your sleep-ins."
"I'm entitled to them every now and then," she replied. "So you're finished for the day then?" She looked up at him, closing the paper.
"Looks like it," he sighed, looking around the house. "You have much to do?"
"Can't. No washing machine, so there's no clothes to hang out, no iron, no cooking. Ordinarily I'd be out helping you, except that you've done - Are you *sure* you've done everything?"
"Yeah!" Jonathan exclaimed, laughing. "You think I'd chuck a sickie?"
"Maybe. There's always a first."
"I've chucked sickies before."
"Oh, I know you have... All right. So we both have nothing to do..." she drifted off, eyeing the headline again. "What time is it?"
"Nine," Jonathan replied. "Clark make the bus?"
"Barely."
"Hmm..." he thought. "We could go for a walk." He looked at Martha hopefully and she smiled.
"Sure." As he stood she called him back. "Jonathan, catch-" She threw him an apple.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Breakfast," she replied, jogging upstairs. "I'll just grab some shoes."
*
Jonathan took Martha's hand easily in his as they left the house.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked her. She swung their arms gently.
"Wherever. Let's stick to the shade though, okay?"
They walked slowly for about half an hour, before they got to a clearing in between a line of their crops and the tall trees of one of the adjoining blocks of land, currently empty. Martha went and sat on the ground, leaning back against the tree, while Jonathan walked a bit further, peering past the trees.
"Someone should really clean this up," he called. Martha didn't turn her head past the tree she was leaning against to see him, looking up at the blue sky instead.
"You don't have time," she reminded him.
"Not me, I said 'someone'-" He heard her laughing and walked back. "Pity there's no one there." She turned her head as he took a seat a little way behind her, and smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into him.
"Mm..." Martha replied. "There hasn't been anyone there in a long while though. Not since Jeff left- You heard anything?"
"They got a place in Metropolis, got married. I assume they've got children by now. It was ten years ago." Martha didn't reply and Jonathan could see that her eyes were closed. "Martha?" he asked quietly, tracing a gentle line across her waist, hoping that he hadn't upset her by mentioning the 'c' word: children.
"Just thinking," she replied.
"Martha-"
"Yes?" she asked, her eyes still closed.
"Do you ever think about having a career? You know, like Lucy- Jeff giving up his whole life to go and live in Metropolis. You ever wish I did that?" She hesitated, before shaking her head.
"Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to have a career. You know, put my degree to use."
"It would sure beat reading the financial section of the paper every morning-"
"Jonathan," she sighed, but he cut her off.
"Martha I know you set-"
"Don't say it, I did nothing of the sort." She pulled away from him, opened her eyes and stared him down. "You're thinking about it the wrong way around." Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "I'm not Lucy, I'm nothing like Lucy. I'm Jeff." Jonathan laughed.
"Are you?"
"Yes. I had all the skill, all the qualifications to fit in where I was, but I didn't want to. I'd grown up there, but I needed a change. You, sweetheart, are Lucy. It was your career that came first-"
"Yours should have come first also-" Martha's brow creased in frustration.
"Who've you been talking to? My father didn't visit you in your sleep, did he?"
"No."
"Then what?" she asked, breaking into a smile. She was intrigued. Jonathan hadn't brought this line of conversation up for many, many years. She always assumed that he had accepted the fact that she was there, and that was that.
"I found this the other day-" he reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to his wife. She looked it over, recognising the postage stamp and opening it. "And I was talking to Nell yesterday, and she pointed out a couple of things-"
"Like?" Martha asked, instantly suspicious. Nell had been in a horrible mood all week, and was hardly tolerable. Ordinarily Martha tried to avoid conversations with her. Nell blamed her for being alone, and there was nothing they could do to change the way things were between them. "Jonathan, she's been in a terrible mood all week. Don't listen to a thing she says, and this," she folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope and handed it back to him. "-was a letter my father wrote to me just after I told him we were married. See the date?"
"Yeah, I saw it." Martha looked at him, exasperated. They were out in the middle of nowhere, with no one around, and this was not going the way she had hoped.
"And so?" Jonathan looked at her, her eyes wide and searching his in confusion. "I don't understand where this is-"
"I just, I want ya to know, that I know I've taken your being here all this time for granted and I- I never really told ya-" Martha smiled.
"Jonathan how long have we been married?"
"Nearly twelve years," he replied, grinning.
"You don't think that if I was feeling as though you were taking me for granted, I would've left a long, long time ago?" She grinned back and he couldn't help it, he laughed.
"Yeah, yeah I guess. God, has it really been that long?"
"Apparently. Who knew?" She turned back around and lay back in his arms. "So we're okay now?"
"Yeah," Jonathan replied. "I just-"
"You just nothing!" she exclaimed, sitting back up and laughing, her head in her hands. She reached back and took one of his, pulling him up as she stood. "Come on, let's get back." She started walking but Jonathan didn't, pulling her back to him with substantial force. Martha fell into his chest and their lips met after only a moments hesitation, enough time for Jonathan to state, "Not so fast missus." They kissed deeply, before Martha loosened herself from him and pulled back smiling. "That makes up for the last, oh, ten minutes of taking me for granted-"
"Got a lot of catchin' up to do then I think," Jonathan managed, smiling and holding her close as they made their way back to the house.
"I'm sure you'll manage," Martha smirked, still feeling light-headed because of that kiss. Damn, he could still do it to her.
*
Jonathan opened the back door and let Martha in ahead of him, and just as they closed it, there was a knock on the front door. Jonathan sighed loudly.
"I'll get it," he offered. "Can ya get me a drink of water?"
"Well there's nothing else," Martha replied, walking into the kitchen. She glanced out the kitchen window and noticed Nell's car parked partway along the driveway. Way to ruin the atmosphere, she thought to herself, eavesdropping on the doorway conversation.
*
"Nell," Jonathan began as he opened the door.
"Sorry to disturb you-"
"Ah, no problems."
"How's your power?" Jonathan realised he didn't know. Without having to ask Martha popped her head around the corner, smiling at Nell.
"Hi Nell. Still off," she answered, raising her eyebrows in mock frustration as she handed Jonathan a glass of water. She then went back into the kitchen, out of view.
"Ah, right," Nell replied. "You're looking flustered Jonathan. Been busy?"
"I guess," Jonathan managed as he finished off the glass of water. "What can we do for you?"
"I have a flat tyre, and was wondering if you could give me some help with it-"
"Sure. You got a spare?"
"Yeah, in the trunk." She handed him the keys and he let the front door bang behind him as he followed her out, setting the glass on the porch. "Sorry about this-"
"No problem. How did you get here?"
"Very slowly." They both laughed as Jonathan knelt down to inspect the damage.
*
Jonathan waved Nell off some time later as she reversed and turned to drive away. Walking back to the house, he saw Martha sitting on the front porch.
"You been there long?" he asked. She smiled.
"A little while. Came looking for your glass." Jonathan glanced down and saw it sitting next to her. "Realised I should sit down for a while, enjoy the afternoon breeze."
"We really spent that much time out there today?"
"Long enough. Nell have any insights?"
"She makes you nervous, doesn't she?"
"You know damn well she makes me nervous." Jonathan shrugged.
"Now, where were we?" Martha shook her head. "What?"
"Not until you wash your hands-"
"Let's think about that." She raised an eyebrow, and before she had a chance to even begin thinking, Jonathan had placed his right hand along her left cheek, drawing her to him. As they pulled back he applied a certain amount of pressure to her cheeks, leaving a dark smear.
"Bastard," she laughed.
"If it's any consolation-"
"Don't tell me it looks sexy because I know it doesn't-"
"Whatever you say gorgeous." He held up his hand. "Want some more?" She shook her head, preparing to stand. He reached out for her wrist and she involuntarily shrieked as he pulled her back down. She kicked him gently in the side, making it to the front door before he caught her. She spun around just before he pinned her to the door, so that when he did she was facing him. They watched each other daringly.
"You know I could hurt you badly right about now," Martha warned.
"If you kneed me you wouldn't get nothing from me."
"I said I wanted something?" she asked innocently.
"You said enough," Jonathan whispered, his face dangerously close to hers.
"The power should get cut more often if it leaves us nothing better to do than this," she whispered back, watching him intently.
"Better? I wouldn't call playing with chainsaws better than this-" He leant down and kissed her gently, his hands slipping closer. Martha grabbed his hands, pulling them away from her.
"No way, I don't want grease all over my clothes-" Jonathan reached behind her and opened the front door, holding her back up so that she didn't fall back as he swung it open.
"Well we'll just have to remove them, won't we?" Martha's eyes shone as she closed the front door behind her.
*
Clark hurried home, realising he was going to be in deep trouble if he wasn't home by dark. He'd been distracted by Chloe and Pete, and hadn't realised the sky outside had become a deep orange.
"Gotta go," he told Chloe, almost as soon as she'd exclaimed that she knew the perfect headline for her latest story - she'd just gotten a position at The Torch.
He slowed as he got to the house, realising the kitchen light wasn't on. Usually by this time his mother, and sometimes his father with her, were getting dinner ready. He noticed the glass sitting on the porch, empty and tipped on its side.
"Okay..." he mumbled, picking it up and letting himself in. None of the lights were on he realised, walking into the kitchen and setting the glass on the empty table as he switched on the light. "Mum, dad, I'm home-" he started, looking around the bottom floor before heading upstairs. They were both home, the car and truck were there, and there hadn't been any movement from the sheds. "Hello? Anyone?" Clark called as he walked along the top floor.
"In here Clark," he heard his father call from the bedroom. Finally, an answer, he thought to himself, walking into his parents' bedroom. His father was sitting up in bed, with a battery-powered lamp on, glancing through what appeared to be a bank statement.
"You okay dad? You sick?" Clark asked, never having seen his father in bed this early. He was usually finishing up outside.
"Fine son. You're home early!" Jonathan glanced up at him. Clark looked confused, and to be truthful, he was. "Everything okay at school?"
"Uh, dad, it's quarter to six-"
"Quarter to what?" He looked at the alarm clock beside Martha's bed and realised that the clock hadn't been reset since the power was turned back on within the last half an hour.
"Six," Clark repeated. "Where's mum?"
"In the shower," Jonathan replied simply, and it was only then that he realised there was light shining from under the closed bathroom door. A thought dawned on him and he realised that perhaps there was an alternative reason as to why his father was sitting bare-chested in the bed this early at night.
"I'll be...downstairs," he managed, turning and hurrying back, deciding that he should do his chores outside for a while, to give them both a chance to have a shower.
Martha opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out.
"Hey," she hissed, getting Jonathan's attention. He looked up, and despite the wet hair hanging across her bare shoulders - a towel wrapped around her middle - something didn't quite gel. "I can't get it off!" Jonathan raised an eyebrow, before noticing the grease still smeared on her cheek from earlier. He laughed, reaching down and pulling on his pants before walking into the bathroom to help her. After trying soap, "for the fifth time", as Martha pointed out, Jonathan sighed.
"I'll go and get some detergent," he stated, jogging downstairs. Clark came back inside after speeding through his chores and watched his father running back upstairs with the kitchen detergent in his hand. What were they going to do with that? He thought, before stopping himself. He really didn't want to know.
*
The detergent had worked pretty well, Jonathan observed as he stood opposite her in the kitchen, peeling some carrots. She was concentrating on chopping a capsicum and didn't look up, even though she knew he was watching; she could feel his eyes boring into her. Her cheeks flushed and she heard him laugh softly to himself. After the salad was done Martha set the table and Jonathan went to get Clark.
"Dinner, son!" he called from below Clark's 'room'.
"Comin'," Clark replied, jumping out of his chair and going down to meet his father. "What is it?"
"Salad."
"Salad?" Clark asked. "Is that all?"
"The freezer defrosted today while the power was off. The little meat that was left in there wasn't so great-lookin', and the defrosted stuff your mother put in the fridge this morning didn't fare well either. So yeah, that's all."
"How come you couldn't go and buy more? You had the whole day-"
"You can't tell me you're starving-"
"Well.no."
"If you must know we read the paper, went for a walk, and had a nice day off."
"Didn't go into town?"
"Clark what are you talking about?" Jonathan asked as they walked back into the house.
"Nothing, don't worry," he replied. "Glad you had a good day." They took the plate of salad Martha handed them and sat down.
"Sorry guys, not feeling very creative today."
"That's okay mum," Clark replied, picking up a carrot stick. "Dad, don't peel carrots again- This still has skin on it!"
"Maybe you could do it then? Help your mother out by cooking dinner in three seconds every night?"
"Oh I'd love that," Martha cut in, smiling. "I'll have to teach you sometime."
"Teach me what?"
"How to cook," Jonathan answered. "You'll never get a girl if you can't cook."
"Could you cook when you met mum?"
"Yes, I'll have you know I could. I did a great spaghetti, and those carrots would have been peeled perfectly if I hadn't been so distracted."
"All right!" Clark exclaimed, pushing his plate forward. "I'm done. I'm going to have a shower and I'll uh, be back later." Martha waited until he was gone before she started laughing.
"Jonathan!"
"What?" he asked innocently. "I think he got the picture as soon as I told him you were in the shower and that I wasn't in bed sick, but he's old enough to realise-"
"Of course. Maybe though, we could not flaunt it so openly-"
"Subtle smiles, gentle touches," Jonathan started.
"He's getting older and well, we don't want to make him uncomfortable."
"I agree," Jonathan replied. Martha stood and gathered up the plates, leaning across Jonathan to pick up Clark's. She had plates in both hands when Jonathan issued a proverbial, "But-", taking her around the waist and pulling her onto his lap. "Tonight I just can't resist. I'll clean up." His eyes flicked from Martha's full hands to the table until she put the plates down.
"You have no intention of cleaning up," she smirked, inhaling quickly as he kissed her.
"God you're sexy," he whispered, pulling back and touching her reddened cheek. "Sorry I scratched you-" She laughed.
"I warned you about putting grease on me, didn't I?"
"Yes, yes you did. What are you going to do about it?" She pretended to think.
"We'll see."
*
Jonathan rolled out of bed the next morning and checked the clock. Power working fine - there had been a small glitch later the previous night - and it was five minutes before he was due to start work, as per usual. He pulled on the appropriate clothes - jeans and a flannel shirt - and walked to the other side of the bed with a pair of socks in his hands, sitting next to Martha. He felt her body slide towards him as the mattress dipped.
"Wakey, wakey," he hummed, pulling on one sock, then the other.
"Yeah, yeah," Martha replied, yawning as she stretched out beside Jonathan. "Power on?"
"Yep. Looks like we'll actually have to work today."
"What a disappointment," she replied, sarcasm humorously evident in her tone.
"I'll need a hand this morning to make up for all we didn't do yesterday-"
"Of course." She sat up and Jonathan smiled, reaching out and straightening her hair with his fingers. "I'll be down in ten," she added as he drew his hand away, reaching down for a shoe. "What's first?"
"Chainsaw buddies," Jonathan replied as he left, blowing her a quick kiss before he disappeared. Martha got out of bed and washed her face before getting changed, her fingers lingering on the scratch on her cheek, that was already healing well. She smiled to herself.
There was a cool breeze, she noticed, as she set foot outside. It was going to be a nice day. Jonathan approached her as she entered the shed. "Change of plans," he stated, handing her a welding helmet. "We only have one chainsaw." Martha laughed, holding up the welder.
"Excellent," she laughed, putting the helmet on and pulling down the cover for the eyes. "How do I look?" she asked.
"Armed and dangerous," Jonathan replied. "Just how I like you-" She aimed the torch at him.
"You'll pay for that."
"No, I won't."
"Yeah, you will."
"Subtle, remember?" Jonathan reminded her as Clark entered.
"Woah, mum! Cool!"
"Hi Clark," Martha started, smiling at Jonathan as subtly as she could. She'd get him, she warned him silently.
"Dad could I do that?"
"I'll teach you when you come home, all right?"
"Sure, oh cool!" He turned and ran out of the shed.
"Have a good day!" Martha called behind him. "You think there'll be a day when he no longer thinks we're cool?" Martha asked once it was just the two of them again. She fired up the welder.
"One day," Jonathan replied. "I'll always think we're cool though. Any woman who can handle a welding torch...wow."
Martha grinned, hitting the metal with the heat from the torch and binding it together. And so another day had begun, she thought, smiling to herself, knowing that she and Jonathan would have to take a break from work at some point. In her peripheral vision she saw that he was smiling subtly at her. She couldn't resist, and he knew it.
***