A/N: I haven't posted a claim in the LJ 100 (because is that still a thing? But I adore the prompts) so this is a total illegal attempt to complete the Big Damn Table. Drabbles will probably remain Clois centric, but others may put in appearances as the need arises.
Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or the characters. I just play with them sometimes.
He's lived with Lois before, of course, but never in such an intimate setting, their one semi-shared morning in the bathroom all those years ago notwithstanding. Clark's never been privy to her pre-bed routines before and frankly, he doesn't understand how she remembers it all.
He watches her reverently as she stands on her tiptoes and peers into the mirror to inspect every inch of her skin for the most minor blemish. Then come all the potions, lotions, and washes and then she drags a paddle brush through her thick hair exactly one hundred times before she sweeps it all up into a ponytail and secures it with an elastic. Personally he prefers when she leaves her hair down at night because he likes to bury his nose in it and breathe in the essence of her, but she says it's too hot so he hardly ever gets his way unless he remembers to tug the elastic from her hair as he enters her and leaves her so spent that she falls promptly asleep after their lovemaking.
Still, she's only just admitted to actually moving in with him for a few weeks and he's only felt comfortable watching her as she readies herself for bed for the last two. She doesn't understand his fascination with it and he doesn't understand how she can still enthrall him with the most mundane activities.
Of course, the fact that his plaid shirt that she pilfered to sleep in barely grazes the tops of her thighs as she raises her arms to her face could have something to do with it.
Her hands still over her cheekbones as she catches his gaze in the mirror. "What?"
He shrugs and can't hide the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing."
She scoffs. "Clearly, it isn't nothing. You've been watching me for ten minutes. If I didn't love you so much, it would be a little creepy."
His pulse quickens slightly. He still isn't used to those little unexpected declarations of admiration that now fall freely from her lips at the most unexpected times. It isn't supposed to be this easy, this good… But it is and she's here, smirking at him in that way only Lois can.
Clark steps behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You know you don't need all that stuff."
She shrugs. "Trust me, Smallville, you're only saying that because you've never seen me when I don't use all this stuff."
In a blink, he spins her around, lifts her gently onto the counter, and insinuates himself between her knees. "You'd be just as beautiful without it," he breathes against her neck as his fingers reach up to find the small buttons of her shirt.
"This is so unfair…" she protests half-heartedly as he makes short work of those pesky closures before his broad hands cover the flat planes of her stomach and his fingers elicit goosebumps as they trail up her sides to her ribcage. "How do you always know the perfect thing to say?"
He smiles and kisses her deeply before she can say anything more. Secretly, he's always loved that him kissing her is one of the few things in the entire world that can leave Lois Lane utterly speechless. Tonight she tastes like the minty toothpaste and all the unspoken promises they share and she lets out a little whimper when he slides her off the counter and carries her to their bed without coming up for air.
The two halves of his shirt that hangs from her shoulders just barely cover the swell of her breasts as she backs away from him towards the headboard, the look in her eyes enough to draw him closer to her.
"Let your hair down," he whispers gruffly as he takes in her swollen pout, for once feeling bold enough to ask for exactly what he wants.
She obliges immediately and the dark brown waves cascade over her shoulders as Clark grips her neck and covers her mouth with his.
He doesn't completely wear her out, not tonight, because tonight was about making her feel as beautiful as he perceives her. So after, when she sits up and starts to twist her hair into that damn ponytail, he leans across her side of the bed and presses a kiss between her shoulder blades.
"Leave it down," he murmurs against her bare skin. "Please."
"I don't think I'll ever understand why you like my hair so much," she says quietly, and begins to twist the strands into a lopsided braid.
"It drives me crazy," he whispers, reaching for her hips, desperate to feel her beneath him again even though it's barely been fifteen minutes. "You drive me crazy, every part of you."
Lois shakes her head and the semi-braid falls out. "There you go with your stupid, perfect words again."
He kneels behind her and kisses her neck. "Please leave your hair down."
She sighs and glances at him over her shoulder, but she slips the elastic back on her wrist wordlessly and allows him to flip her onto her back and once again claim her as his own.
Neither one of them ever mentions it, but Lois never pulls her hair into a ponytail before bed again.
