Based on a funny scenario on the DI Turbulence discussion board. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Lois huffed, resting a hand on her hip and raising her eyebrows at the blonde ex-boyfriend who had taken up residence in her too small apartment.
"Why are you here again?"
He had arrived on her doorstep five days previous, nearly on the heels of her currently homeless cousin-in-law.
Lois was all for helping family, especially when they were as bad off as Jimmy. Wedding-crashers from hell, over a month of hospitalization and a bout of mental illness would have made it easy to sympathize, but add marital troubles when he should very well be on his honeymoon and even Lois couldn't deny him a place to stay.
"Come on, Lois. I needed a place to lay low for a while."
But that didn't mean Oliver Queen had a right to move in. One interloper was quite enough for her.
Lois snorted, playing the role of disgruntled hostess—which she was, to be perfectly honest. But she and Oliver had had the same argument every day since he arrived, and—though her vexation was mounting by the hour—he knew by now that she wouldn't really make him leave.
"And you thought, 'hey, why don't I crash on Lois's couch instead of rubbing shoulders with the beautiful people on a privately owned beach in Cancun.'"
Oliver rolled his eyes before he spoke, falling into a lecturing tone.
"In case you've forgotten, my jet exploded last week under some very suspicious circumstances. Whoever rigged the plane may have been after Tess, but I don't buy it. I'm not going to go traipsing off to a beach in Mexico on a whim, not under these circumstances."
Lois crossed her arms, giving him an understanding but unimpressed look. She had heard it all before, and frankly the logic seemed weaker every time.
Diverting the argument, Oliver shot her a cheeky grin.
"And what better place to drop under the radar than a dingy apartment in the slums of Metropolis?"
"Hey!" Lois protested, dropping the charade. "This apartment is an hidden gem. I'll have you know I had to beat an old lady with a stick to get my bid in. There is untapped potential here like you wouldn't believe."
Oliver grinned. "I've been here a week, Lois, and the only thing that's untapped is a keg."
One slender eyebrow rose. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"I think he just compared your apartment to one rented on an undergrad's budget," Jimmy informed her, coming through the front door. "That or he's developed a sudden liking for the cheap stuff. Speaking of which . . . " he trailed off, pulling a six pack from the paper bag he cradled and handing it to Oliver. "Here you go. Metropolis's finest."
Lois's eyes popped. She managed a choked laugh before an incredulous, "You're drinking beer?" Shaking her head, her voice dropped to a disgruntled mutter. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Come on, Lois. You can't have a boys night without beer."
She spared Oliver a glare. "Boys night? Anyway, I was referring more to the alcohol in general. Should he," she jerked her head in Jimmy's direction, "really be consuming alcohol when dosed up on prescription pain meds? Cause it seems like an anticlimactic way to die after surviving a fight with the harbinger of doom."
"We tossed the meds last night," Oliver informed her seriously.
Lois swallowed uncomfortably, chancing a look at Jimmy. He cringed, looking equal parts embarrassed and resentful. The bitterness was so out of character that Lois had to look away, forcing a smile. Oliver noted the exchange and did his best to lighten the mood.
"So I thought it was the perfect time for a little liquid stress relief. I would have brought the good stuff, but I kept most of it on the jet . . ." he trailed off, resisting the urge to make a snarky comment about the three bottles he knew Clark and Tess had finished off before the plane went down. Somehow, he didn't think she would appreciate the humor.
Lois glanced at the bottles in Oliver's hand, mistrustful. "Not to be a killjoy, but aren't the meds still in his system? They could still react, which would spell disaster for Mr. Barely Recovered over here."
"Doc said everything's fine," Jimmy chimed in, clearly trying to sound lighthearted.
"Come on, Lois," Oliver cajoled, throwing a significant look at Jimmy, who had not succeeded as much as he would have liked.
Lois crossed her arms tightly, mouth twitching in irritation. After a long moment's contemplation, she rolled her eyes.
"Fine. But don't come crying to me when something goes wrong, as it inevitably will."
"Don't worry, Lois," he soothed, flipping his cell into view. "I've got my personal surgeon on standby."
Lois raised an eyebrow.
"I hope you're joking." Releasing her stiff pose, she snatched her purse off the counter. "Cause I won't be around to play nurse if you consume your weight in lager and can't make it to the phone. I've got better things to do than sit around babysitting grown boys."
"Chasing leads?" he inquired, noting the telltale determination in her stance.
Her gaze flickered to Jimmy, a slight frown appearing at his apparent indifference. Much as she hated to admit it, the bullpen wasn't quite the same without his chipper chatter pestering her every morning.
"Yeah. The crazies never sleep."
"Is Clark running interference on this one?"
Lois's distracted gaze snapped immediately back to Oliver.
"I don't need Clark Kent to help me land a story, Oliver. In case you hadn't noticed, I was doing just fine before he came along."
"Of course you were," Oliver agreed, merriment dancing in his eyes. "He just has a knack for getting you out of trouble is all."
Her mouth opened, irate, to tell him off for assuming she couldn't take care of herself. Just in time she caught the buried humor in his gaze, snapping her mouth shut and grumbling as she made her way out the door.
As the catch clicked into place, Oliver turned to Jimmy with a rueful laugh. Jimmy stared back, brows furrowed.
"Why do I get the feeling that I've missed something?"
***
Lois awoke to a sound she hadn't heard since she was a kid, camping in the barracks with whichever army brats were brave enough to sneak out.
"Oooh-whooooh!"
It took her a minute to shake off the haze, and even longer to convince herself she wasn't still dreaming.
"Whooo-ooooh!"
Rolling over, Lois stared at the door with an incredulous expression.
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, flopping back on onto her bed in exasperation when the sound repeated itself.
"OOOOooooh!"
She buried her head under the pillow, using her arms to sandwich the stuffing over her ears.
"RAWRRRRR!"
Whipping off the pillow, Lois glared at her headboard.
"That's it!" she declared, rolling angrily out of bed and stomping toward the door. As she got closer, the muffled noises solidified.
"No, no, no," Oliver interrupted, stopping Jimmy's latest attempt. "It was more like: 'grrrAAAAWWWwwrrrRRR."
Jimmy's reply was pensive. "Are you sure it wasn't-"
"If you're going to invade my apartment, must you act like two year olds?" Lois demanded with a scowl, flinging wide the door.
Jimmy and Oliver started, staring up at her with innocent expressions. They looked mildly surprised to see her, but Lois was positive it was an act.
"Lois," Oliver greeted cheerfully after a moment of resting unperturbed under her heated stare. "What are you doing up?"
"What am I doing up?" she snorted, flabbergasted. "Are you serious?"
"We weren't being that loud, were we Jimmy?" Oliver mused, looking to his partner-in-crime for support.
Jimmy glanced at Lois, obviously intimidated to be on the receiving end of such an angry expression, and shrugged unconvincingly.
"See?" Oliver maintained, as if that had cleared everything up.
She stared at him for a long moment, confounded.
"What's gotten into you?" she demanded, studying him through narrowed eyes, as if she expected him to suddenly offer up an explanation. "And don't even think about trying to blame the alcohol, Ollie. You could have chugged every drop solo and barely felt a twinge."
"We were just talking about Smallville," Oliver shrugged.
Lois narrowed her eyes at him. "What does Clark have to do with anything?" she asked suspiciously.
Oliver bit back a laugh.
"Smallville, Kansas," Jimmy corrected warily, making sure his response didn't set her off.
Pink crept up her cheeks, but she dutifully ignored it, and—after sharing a knowing glance under her line of sight—her companions wisely did the same.
"And how does that necessitate the noises?" she demanded.
This time Jimmy spoke up first.
"You've got to admit, there have been some pretty strange inhabitants of that little town."
"The meteor infected are the new hot topic, Lois," Oliver added with a shrug.
"You're telling ghost stories about meteor freaks?" she asked, as if unsure she had heard correctly.
"Not stories, Lois, experiences," Jimmy clarified.
She opened her mouth to reply, floundered for something to say, and closed it again. She tried again and again closed her mouth without uttering a sound, still unable to find the appropriate response. She finally gave up, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Okay, but I'm pretty sure meteor freaks don't go around growling and booing at people."
"The conversation got sidetracked," Oliver answered easily, as Jimmy defended, "It was relevant."
There was another pause as the room's occupants studied each other, each waiting for the other's reaction.
"It just sort of evolved," Jimmy finally offered. "Villains with superpowers, Warrior Angel, ghost sounds; makes sense, right?"
He was met with an incredulous glare.
"This is ridiculous!" Lois declared, throwing up her hands.
The two men exchanged a glance.
"Neither of you is supposed to be this annoying," Lois continued, building toward a tirade. "It's like you're doing it just to aggravate me!"
"Go figure," Oliver murmured, barely controlling his grin.
Lois narrowed her eyes suspiciously; Oliver stared artlessly back.
"Grown men my ass," she grumbled, spinning on her heel. "Fine," she huffed loudly as she stalked back toward the bedroom, disappearing into the miniscule closet. "Whatever."
Oliver followed with a grin, Jimmy trailing somewhat more hesitantly after. His caution was rewarded as he ducked suddenly, a projectile launching itself at his head. He glanced warily in the direction of the closet as he slowly returned to his full height.
Lois was rooting through her things, not bothering to glance behind her as she chucked item after item after over her shoulder. Jimmy counted himself fortunate that only the suitcase could have given serious injury.
Oliver smoothly dodged each garment that flew in his direction, fighting back obvious amusement.
"Going somewhere?" he asked casually, watching Lois march out of the closet and around the room, grabbing random clothes from the floor and stuffing them haphazardly into her bag.
She turned to glare at him, then, deeming his question absurdly obtuse, resumed her task without bothering to answer.
"I guess the boys night wasn't such a hot idea," Jimmy offered, sounding mildly guilty. He, too, was ignored.
Finally Lois straightened, slinging the bag violently over her shoulder.
"Enjoy your night," she growled through clenched teeth; then, stalking past them and straight to the door, she wrenched it open and slammed it shut behind her.
***
It wasn't until she reached her car that Lois started pondering the intelligence of her actions. There was no way in hell she could have lasted another minute in that apartment, but she didn't have a lot of other options.
Hitting Chloe up for a room after harboring her estranged husband seemed like a bad plan, especially when it was—partially—said husband Lois was so desperate to escape. Regardless of that situation, Chloe had been acting strangely lately, secretive and snappy. Lois wasn't sure she wanted to see her cousin when it came right down to it.
Oliver's apartment was apparently off limits, due to a death threat she was sure was partially fabricated. Planes exploded, right? That didn't mean someone had it out for the proprietor, no matter what nightly heroics he entangled himself in.
And her other friends . . . .
Was it entirely pathetic that she only knew three people in the city well enough to ask for a place to crash?
So here she was, pounding on the Kent's door at 3am. She wouldn't have bothered, except that the front door was uncharacteristically locked. Fine time for Clark to go all safety conscious on her.
Her foot tapped—irritation, not nervousness—as she waited impatiently on the front porch. It was almost two minutes before the light clicked on and an endearingly mussed Clark tugged open the door.
"Took you long enough," she muttered as he squinted down at her.
"Lois?" he asked, muddled as he blinked against the dark night.
"The one and only," she replied flippantly, pushing past him into the house.
Closing the door and turning to follow her, Clark paused briefly to collect his thoughts. He tried again.
"What are you doing here?"
Pointedly tugging the strap resting across her shoulder, Lois gave him a look.
"Sleeping; what else?"
"Um . . ." he fumbled, apparently still addled with sleep. "Did something happen to your apartment?"
"Pest problem," she answered bluntly, to which he raised an eyebrow. "Jimmy and Oliver thought it might be entertaining to drive me up a wall," she expounded.
"Oh," he muttered intelligently, running a hand through sleep tousled hair. He seemed to be in the slow process of waking up. Finally. "Okay."
"Good."
"Great."
Lois shifted her feet, staring expectantly at Clark. Waiting for what, she wasn't sure; it just seemed right for him to make the next move. Besides, she was suddenly feeling a little awkward standing in his foyer, and she wasn't about to say something stupid and draw attention to the fact.
Unfortunately for her, Clark seemed just as apt to stand there with an unreadable expression than to relieve her awkward tension.
She gulped, watching his eyes deepen as he seemed to sink into his thoughts.
Blinking suddenly, Clark straightened, smiling almost sheepishly. He slid the bag off Lois's shoulder before she could stop him, easily swinging it onto his own. The weight had been digging into her back since she picked it up, yet he somehow made it seem like nothing more than a light duffel. Which, granted, it was supposed to be.
Her mouth twisted in jealous annoyance as he turned and half jogged up the stairs. Feeling her stomach twist as she followed his broad back to the spare room, Lois gritted her teeth. This was definitely not her night.
Obviously someone had it out for her.
She would be damned if she let them win.
***
After all the effort it had taken to get her into a quiet, comfortable bed, Lois couldn't sleep. She stared up at the ceiling, frustrated. Whereas before the silence was a desperately sought commodity, here it was oppressive. In her mind, it only exemplified the standoffishness that—despite her assurances to them both—had settled between them since Clark had stood her up for coffee.
It didn't help that she was in his room, which practically screamed Clark despite the fact that he hadn't slept there in well over a year. He may have migrated to the master suite when Lana made her bid for domestic bliss, but everything that was essentially Clark still resided in what Lois would always think of as his room. And now, unfortunately, everything she wanted to ignore was staring her quite literally in the face.
She glanced at the wall, wondering how Clark was faring on the other side.
"Probably sleeping like a baby," she grumbled to herself, turning her whole body away to stare out the window. "Stupid, oblivious farmboy."
It wasn't Clark's fault, really. Lois was the one who had told him it was okay not to show. She couldn't blame him if he took her at her word.
Still, she had really put herself out there. No one had ever made her feel quite so vulnerable as Clark did, and she had a right to protect what little of herself was still salvageable. And obviously he would rather just forget the whole thing, so she was feeling endlessly relieved that she hadn't laid all her cards on the table.
But Lois was having trouble forgetting. She had been so close to . . . what?
Nothing. Everything. What difference did it make?
For the second time that night Lois threw off her covers, rolling out of bed and striding purposefully across the wooden floor. This time, however, it wasn't irritation that pushed her from her haven, but well deserved self-censure.
"Oliver and Jimmy, this is all your fault."
Well, a little bit of irritation.
She made her way to the bathroom, rooting around in the medicine cabinet until her relieved fingers closed around the bottle of Nyquil.
She wasn't a strong supporter of drugging oneself to sleep, but she wasn't above it. And boy did she need it now.
Knocking back a dose, Lois replaced the cough syrup and crept softly back down the hall to her room. As her hand grasped the doorknob, her eyes caught on the door a few feet further, resting slightly ajar.
The temptation pulled her forward, even as she lectured herself of the evils of self-torture. She never was skilled in resisting impulses.
And there he was. Covers pulled against his chest, one arm slung above his head, looking more peaceful that he'd looked since . . . when? The last time she'd caught him asleep? Clark never seemed entirely at peace when he was awake, and she never inquired too closely as to why. She just did her best to keep his eyes light and his mouth quirked in the grin she loved so much.
Lois felt her stomach lurch even as her heart constricted in her chest.
"You just couldn't resist, could you?" she mentally griped, almost frantic at the mental slip. Forcibly quelling the desperate tinge to her thoughts, Lois allowed herself one long, last look at the dark haired man sleeping just inside the room. Then she quickly turned on her heel and all but dove back into her own, plaid encased bed.
***
The next morning Lois warily made her way down the stairs, still painfully aware of the tightness in her chest. She peeked around the corner before her feet made any attempt to make it past the front hall. The kitchen was empty. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lois turned toward the fridge. And stopped.
There, sitting on the counter in the mug she never remembered to take with her, was a steaming heaven of fresh coffee.
"Don't read too much into it, Lane," she berated herself as she moved over to examine the blissful, offending object.
She took a steadying breath before calmly lifting the mug and taking a sip. She was aware that Clark knew how she took her coffee; she couldn't decide whether or not she was surprised that he had fixed it up for her.
The side door creaked open and her heart jumped at the unexpected intrusion. Plastering a light smile on her face, Lois casually turned, holding the mug like a shield against her chest.
Catching sight of her, Clark smiled tentatively. Everything between them was so glaringly obvious now, when they weren't addled with sleep and irritation.
"I made you coffee," he offered, glancing at the mug in her hand. His gaze flickered up to hers, those blue-green mirrors holding regret and hope and some measure of the self-induced isolation that never quite left them.
Lois stared back.
She wanted to tell him this didn't make up for their missed coffee non-date. She wanted to make a sarcastic remark at the obviousness of his statement. She wanted to cross the room and hug him, to tell him that she missed him.
"Thanks, Smallville."
He grinned at her, genuine and sexy and dorky. Her heart seemed to swell into her throat and she glanced down, hiding her eyes in the depths of the murky brown peace offering.
Gulping back everything she didn't want to feel, Lois looked purposefully at her cohort and smirked teasingly.
"So, you just gonna stand there, or am I going to get some breakfast? Cause I gotta tell you, the prospect of heading home to Tweedledee and Tweedledum is not especially appealing right now."
Clark rolled his eyes and Lois leaned back against the counter, watching as he switched on the stove and dug the pan from a nearby cabinet.
Give Jimmy and Ollie their fun, she mused, appreciative eyes following the contours of Clark's back.
She was fine right where she was.