Manure

DJ Dubois

March 2018

Rating: T (Teen)

Notes: This is the third in a series of drabbles following "Valentine" and "Real". Smallville belongs to DC and the CW. Please send comments to dante0220 .

Colors' last wisps melted away into night. Luna washed the countryside in her gentle glow. A puff of wind rustled the yellowed grasses outside.

Lana gazed out the window. Her eyes drank it all in. Her breath caught. Her heart waltzed. Her eyes twinkled.

And he had done that for her.

Who would have thought? She sighed. A dreamy smile spread across her face. She closed her eyes. She recalled the Metropolis Orchestra's recent performance of Mozart's gentle rhythms.

Memoria needed little convincing. She replayed that symphony despite its age.

Her feet whispered gracefully across the concrete floor. Around and around, she twirled. Her mind heard only the music. Her hair rustled from some breeze about that area. Her heart wanted to practice for its Plaid Prince. It felt glorious. It felt serene. It….

Then her foot sank into something. Her ear heard a 'splat'. A pungent odor assaulted her nostrils.

Oh come on! I didn't… Her eyes edged downward knowing yet dreading what was there.

Her shoe rested in a crushed cow pie.

Her face wrinkled like a dried prune. Disappointment weighed her mood down. "My new shoes! They're ruined!"

A clapping intruded on Lament's moment.

She rolled her eyes. She turned to find Clark sitting on the third wooden step from the bottom. His eyes twinkled. A big saucy grin spread across his face. "It isn't funny."

He coughed. "Right. Not funny." He breathed in and out several times trying to suppress the urge to laugh. Despite his Kryptonian stamina, even he found that difficult. He coughed and stood. "That's not bad. Come on." He motioned across the barn.

"Not bad? Clark, these are my favorite shoes! I…."

"Just try this with me. Okay?" He brought her over to the sink. "Can I see it please?"

"Clark, I need to throw it out. It's…."

He raised an eyebrow. "I know. Just give me a chance? Trust me?"

She noted how Chivalry now burned brightly in his eyes. "Okay, Clark. Impress me." She removed the soiled shoe and handed it to him.

He considered it. "Give me a chance." He glanced toward the stalls. "What's going on with Buttercup?"

"Buttercup?" She took several hesitant steps ever watchful for other such pitfalls in her path. She looked toward the brown and white cow. "She looks okay, Clark."

"I thought I heard her." Before she could turn back around, he scrubbed the sole with soap and the bristle brush. He willed his hand to super speed scouring away the offending refuse from the precious footwear. He took care to clean yet not harm the delicate leather. For four heartbeats, he toiled at Amor's labor. Hope balanced on the razor's edge; its future dependent on success. Then he inspected the shoe. His eye spied nary an offensive speck nor blemish on it. "Thought I heard her. Sorry." He raised it to the light.

As his hands raised it to her eye level, the light sparkled off of the leather's restored surface. Faerie light caressed it beckoning her toward it. As if he could wave a wand, Magic hung in the air.

Disbelief widened her eyes. "How?"

"Elbow grease and…a little magic." He grinned to sell that point.

"Magic?" She coughed.

"Hey, it's Valentine's Day. Right?" His hands wavered in their grip on the shoe. His eyes peered deeply into hers.

"Right." Skepticism raised her eyebrow anew.

"Well why can't there be magic? Your shoe's as good as new." He shrugged. "Well almost new." He smiled anew; his expression offering Warmth in exchange for Hope's grace.

Gratitude sparkled in her eyes. "Almost new. Hey, Clark. Nobody's perfect. You missed a speck."

"What? Where?" His eyes frantically checked every inch of it.

She giggled. "Made you look, Clark. Now we're even." Mischief gleamed in a saucy grin toward him.

"Oh really?" He snorted.

"Yes. Really." She exhaled. Once more Love lifted her up.

"Then I don't suppose you want this shoe on?"

She sniffed. "And I'll catch cold from a soaked foot outside?"

"You could accept this then. That is if you can stop snarking me?" he teased.

"I could. That is if you can do something for me?" she put forth to him.

He gulped hoping not to reveal his abilities. "And that is?"

"Surprise me," she informed him.

He nodded. He got down on one knee. A deep breath struggled from his lungs. "Pick up your foot?"

"What?"

He motioned toward the shoe.

"Oh." She winced. "Yeah that." She raised her foot up.

With a single graceful motion, he slid the restored shoe onto her waiting foot. "There. How's that?" His eyes implored for something positive…for her approval…for Hope…

She regarded her "new" shoe. She grinned. Approval's beacon guided his heart from Despair's uncertain waters.

"Well?" He bit his lip.

"Not bad." She grinned at him. "I've had fancier gifts but nothing this meaningful. Thanks, Clark."

"You're welcome." His heart relaxed. Relief lightened its load on his shoulders.

"So about those chores? What…." She looked around. "Clark, I thought we had chores to do."

He glanced around the area. Somehow he managed to keep his tone even. "They look done to me. Must be that magic. Right?"

She coughed again. "Magic?"

"Yeah. Great sunset. Fate bringing us together. Reborn shoe. You know what they say about magic?" he reminded her.

"No. What's that?"

"Don't question it. Treasure the moment." He rubbed her shoulder.

She conceded a nod for his benefit. "You're right. Especially after what happened, this is awesome."

"It is." He embraced her. His heart beat in time with hers. Her softness acted as a balm to him. Her breathing soothed his soul. "And there's a great dinner too."

"Really? You are full of surprises," she quipped. She saw Martha watching them from the house. "Your Mom's looking."

"Dinner's ready. Shall we?" He extended his hand.

"We shall!" She squeezed his hand in hers.

And together they headed toward the meal supreme; their palates already satisfied with Amor's first course.

THE END