Dinner
Lois climbed the stairs to Clark's apartment, carrying a cardboard bag. That afternoon at work, he had invited her over for dinner, and she was looking forward to seeing if he was as much husband material as he appeared. She knocked on his door, and he opened it with a brilliant smile. He was wearing a grey apron, and a delicious smell wafted into the hallway. She stepped in, and they kissed.
"Nice apron."
"Thanks. What's that?" he said, pointing to the bag.
She pulled out a bottle of red wine.
"I know you probably already have some, and I don't know if it goes with the food."
"I do have some, and it will go the food."
"Then more can't hurt."
She walked into the kitchen and put the bottle down on the counter. There were four pots on the stove, and only one that still had a fire under it. On the other end of the kitchen stood a small table, which was already set for two.
"It smells so good. I should've known you would basically be a chef, Mr. Perfect."
"I looked the recipes up online," he said as he stepped around her to stir a pot of sauce.
"Still, not everyone can execute them that well. You should see me."
"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said, turning to face her.
"Would you like to find out?"
"Yes. I'm not scared."
She laughed and came closer, till they were almost chest-to-chest.
"You should be," she whispered, and he smirked.
"Does your mom know about us?" she asked.
"Intuitively or explicitly?"
"Something tells me it's the first one?"
"Yeah, she can tell. You know how moms have that sixth sense."
"She can tell that you're…"
He grinned.
"Very attached to someone," he said, making her giggle, "And she correctly surmises that that someone is Lois Lane from The Daily Planet. Honestly, she's gonna get annoyed with me if I don't bring you home soon."
"Well, I have no problems taking a road trip to Kansas. Or a plane. Whatever."
"Does your family know about me?"
"No. I should tell them. It'll be drama, though."
He looked wary.
"Drama? Why?"
"Oh, nothing bad. Just typical family stuff, y'know. Gossip, people making a fuss, that sorta thing."
"Oh, ok. I thought maybe your dad was…really protective, or something.
"No, he's totally fine."
They smiled at each other, and Clark turned around to check the sauce again. She wrapped her arms around him.
"I can't help because you already did everything," she whined.
"You're my guest, Lois. Of course, I did."
He looked around the kitchen.
"You could pour the wine," he suggested.
"I could do that."
He chuckled as she let go and skipped across the kitchen.
