PART ONE (FRIENDS), CHAPTER NINE
Something was up, Lois could tell. Whispers were being exchanged throughout the hall. Mischievous smirks marked the expressions of nearly every person present. Even the wedding planner, who'd jogged back down the aisle to check on something, seemed impishly expectant.
"What the hell is going on?"
Lois turned to a thoroughly unamused Perry, whose question she was surprised to hear. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
"Well, how would I know?"
"I swear to Bono, Chief," warned Lois, skeptical of his denial, "if you're in on this -"
"- In on what?"
It was too late. The wedding planner returned and, having already given the bride and her escort their initial instructions, ushered them to the spot where they would begin their walk the next day.
Just as the band struck up, playing the final notes to Clark and Martha's processional piece, Lois caught the self-satisfied gaze of her betrothed. He was looking right back at her, not even bothering to mask his anticipation.
The music changed, transitioning into a slow melody that didn't take Lois very long to recognize. She scoffed in indignation, crossing her arms over her chest, and was just about to start protesting when nearly the entire hall suddenly went black and Stuart, an electric guitar hanging in place of his acoustic one, emerged from behind one of the columns up on the terrace. Bathed in spotlight, Stuart began a blaring, up-tempo solo as practically every spectator cheered him on with whistles and applause. When he finished, a bass line kicked up in several speakers and the piano quintet joined the guitarist in his hard rock rendition of a theme song from the film series that Lois loathed.
"Not funny!" shouted Lois, barely able to get her voice to carry over the din of the well-orchestrated gag. "So not funny!"
Every person, save one, ignored her, laughing amongst themselves as previously concealed fog machines began pumping out dramatic billows, accent lights washed the walls with flashing blues and greens, and violet LEDs running along either side of the aisle began flickering in waves, signaling the bride to commence her march.
"Get moving, Lane!" yelled Jimmy.
"Get bent, Olsen!" she yelled back.
Perry, at a loss, demanded an explanation as to the outrageous spectacle he was witnessing.
"It's my nightmare!" Lois told him, having leaned over to his ear so that he could hear her. "My tacky, tween nightmare!"
Just then, Dinah, all grins and giggles, came upon them.
"Let's go, dancing queen!" she urged, taking Lois's arm and pulling her forward. "Your people have been waiting for this all morning! They demand a show!"
The bride responded with a long, dramatic groan as she looked out at the crowd that'd begun chanting her name. The entire production was absurd, extreme. But, given her own penchant for mischief, Lois could be nothing but amused by the practical joke she hadn't seen coming. "You're all gonna pay for this, you know!" she warned Dinah, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Whatever!" the bridesmaid rejoined, before turning to Lois's escort. "Are you joining us?"
Perry, stone-faced, said nothing.
"Killjoy!"
"Spoilsport!"
The unmoved older man ignored the bride's and the bridesmaid's alternate retorts and watched them head off on their boisterous trip down the aisle. The throng of wedding staffers and participants enjoyed every moment, rooting on the characteristically unabashed pair as they began by improvising the craziest moves they could think of. While one twisted, the other twirled; while one shimmied, the other shook. Stuart and his backup could hardly concentrate on their fingering they were laughing so hard.
On the latter leg of their journey, the duo joined in a comic version of the display they'd perfected atop more than one nightclub bar. By the time they neared the dais, though, their own hysterics overtook them and, in an effort to end their show on a high note, they attempted one stunt too many. Dinah turned. Lois dipped. And, having not thought far enough ahead, they instantly threw off each other's center of gravity.
Clark, of course, beat everyone else to the scene and caught the tumbling twosome before they hit the floor. A roar of applause immediately ensued, and as the band played out the finale to their piece, Clark received a pair of kisses from the grateful, still-tickled women in his arms.
"Everybody okay?" he asked, helping them to their feet as he smiled at their exuberance.
"Oh, we're fine," said Dinah, withdrawing from the groom's cheek. "It's just a shame your bride's such a klutz."
Lois scoffed, "Like you helped."
"I was a collegiate gymnast, Lane; my balance is impeccable. Anyway, you should be thanking me for the warm-up. You'll need it for later."
"What's happening later?" asked Clark.
Had he been facing Dinah, he would've seen in her expression that she'd given something away. But as he'd turned his gaze to Lois, who didn't miss a beat in misleading him, he had no reason to second-guess her subsequent explanation: "She means our victory dance for when our soon-to-be-champs run your Cinderella squad off the court tonight."
With that, Lois then grabbed her bridesmaid's hand and led her in taking their bows. After which, everyone turned their attention to the musicians and their director, giving them a hearty ovation for their performance.
When the clamor finally died down and the main lights came back up, Lois pretended to protest against the prank. "For the record: You're all on my list. I hate those movies. I hate those books. I hate that entire franchise -"
"- We know!" insisted several persons at once, cutting short what was sure to be yet another of the bride's rants against the pop culture juggernaut she couldn't escape.
Perry, still confused as to why he hadn't been let in on the plotting, interjected, "Did no one consider warning me about this tomfoolery?"
"Sure, we considered it," said Dinah. "But, due respect, you suck at guile. You would've given away the whole thing."
After a moment's thought, he replied, "Eh, fair enough."
Breaking back in, Lois insisted, "Never mind him. Is anyone gonna tell me what I did to deserve this?"
"CK said he owed you payback for something."
At Jimmy's reply, Lois directed her eyes at Clark. "Oh, really? What was the something?"
"It'll come to you," quipped the groom.
"Before or after you tell me what song I'm really marching in to?"
"Probably before, since your piece is staying top secret until the big moment."
She chuckled, "The song for our first dance too?"
"Yep."
"Just promise me no Pachelbel, no Wagner, and no Bach for the walk. And for the sake of all that's tasteful, please, no boy bands for the dance."
"But I'd hate to have to go back on my word come tomorrow."
Lois simply smiled and shook her head as Clark wrapped an arm around her waist, hugging her. Perry, however, wouldn't be so easily appeased.
"You know, some of us might appreciate a little actual practice, Kent," he complained.
His eyes still on the bride, Clark leaned down to reciprocate the kiss she'd pressed to his cheek several moments ago, saying, "Just follow her lead. I always do."
Both Bart and Stuart made retching sounds upon hearing Clark's sentiment, while Perry, throwing up his hands, appealed to the mother of the groom. "C'mon, Red, talk some sense into your son. I'm getting put on the spot tomorrow and he's too busy wooing to care."
Martha, chuckling at Perry's crabbiness, couldn't bring herself to oppose her son's preoccupation with lavishing affection upon the woman from whom he'd been largely separated for the past month. Fortunately for the irritable escort, though, the inner circle had anticipated his concern. Accordingly, Dinah, who'd volunteered to stand in for Lois, and Stuart, whose classical guitar was central to Lois's processional, led Perry out of the hall in order to help him practice the official march.
The wedding officiant, in his dignified, baritone timbre, then spoke up. "Shall we begin running through the remainder of the ceremony? Or would you two rather we wait for Mr. White to return?" he asked, adjusting the notes in his hands.
Clark looked from the older man to the bride. "Whatever you want."
Lois smirked, "Is that all you're gonna say to me for the next two days?"
"That, and 'I can't believe how lucky I am to be here with you.'"
"Oh, god."
…
It'd been Lois's idea for J'onn J'onzz, as a close friend of Clark's biological parents and as the lifelong guardian of Clark himself, to officiate the wedding. Her suggestion originated from her knowledge that the society into which Clark had been born observed neither public nor private marital rituals and, moreover, deemed wedlock as an obligatory, contractual state. Amongst Kryptonian nobles, including those of the House of El, unions were especially dispassionate, utilized only for the perpetuation of ancestral bloodlines and the preservation of ancestral wealth. Intimacy, whether emotional or physical, served no practical purpose; it was a primitive indulgence to be sought elsewhere - preferably, with lesser races from lesser worlds.
Nevertheless, marriages were amicable by design. Once of age, individuals were scrutinized by artificial intelligences that broke down countless aspects of personality and biology, and, regardless of sex, matched persons based on the probability of a harmonious partnership and an ideal offspring. As Kryptonians had for generations been unable to conceive naturally amongst themselves, genetic material was later taken from united pairs and merged together in state-run facilities, where embryos were engineered and fetuses were attended throughout the gestational period.
Such stoic ideals and compulsory practices couldn't have been more dissimilar to Lois and Clark's shared beliefs about matrimony. Nonetheless, Lois was determined to somehow incorporate her fiancé's native heritage into their ceremony. Accordingly, she proposed early on that J'onn preside. Clark had been entirely enthusiastic about the idea and had readily made the request of his guardian, who, with his late friends in mind, humbly assented.
At present, J'onn, who'd recently been appointed a justice of the peace for the State of Kansas, was describing his opening remarks with the same earnestness that he'd shown in initially agreeing to his role. But despite how endearing Lois found his characteristic gravity, her thoughts for the past several minutes had been occupied with trying to figure out what had instigated the prank to which she'd been subjected a short while ago.
Finally, it came to her.
"Oh, are you kidding me?!" she exclaimed with a laugh, turning to the groom and punching him squarely in the shoulder. "You are such a jerk!"
Clark recoiled a bit and, though laughing along with her, pronounced a clear expression of pain. Of the onlookers sitting and standing about, those privy to Clark's secret didn't think twice about his reaction, as they knew that when it came to those for whom he cared, The Man of Steel was as susceptible as anybody else. For that reason, they were more interested in his subsequent reply to the bride's outburst.
"I told you there'd be consequences," chuckled Clark, rubbing out the throb in his upper arm.
"But who holds a grudge for that long?"
"Someone with a pretty good memory, I'd bet."
Lois ignored Clark's smirking reply and turned to J'onn. "Sorry for interrupting. I always have that sort of knee-jerk reaction to spite."
The officiant smilingly excused her, but before he could resume his descriptions, Jimmy called out from the front row, asking Lois what she'd meant about Clark's grudge. A few others seconded him, and, after receiving a nod from J'onn, Lois satisfied their curiosity.
Clark had volunteered to handle planning the wedding right from the start, explained Lois. But despite Carissa, her assistant, and the team the young coordinator hired seeing to all of the details, Clark found that even general matters required more thought than he'd anticipated - a lesson that came the hard way in his struggles with the save-the-dates.
The basic requirements for the notices had been easy enough for Clark to sort out. Both he and his fiancée desired a summer wedding, and as Lois had been oddly adamant about holding the event over either the last weekend in June or the first weekend in July, the when was quickly settled upon. From there, Clark told the wedding planner of Lois's preferences regarding the venue - indoor, spacious, timeless - and quickly received from him a short list of possible sites. After Clark toured them with Lois and they decided on the most suitable one, he assembled their lengthy list of invitees, forwarded it to Carissa, who was primarily managing guest concerns, and went to consult with the master printer whom the planner had recommended.
"But Mr. 'What's-So-Hard-About-All-This?' assumed he'd just be filling in the blanks for the cards," recounted Lois, laughing over the memory of Clark's obliviousness.
Clark had returned from his meeting in a harried state, with more samples than he cared to go through even at superspeed. He'd been informed in no uncertain terms that save-the-dates, especially those for persons from families as prominent as the de Chevaliers and the Lanes, were crucial in establishing the tone for a couple's nuptials and thus needed to be precisely customized. He'd been pressed on theme, layout, texture, accent, and a host of other particulars about which he knew nothing. Such simply wasn't his forte. Even when the printer requested the most basic of information, a color scheme, he had no response to offer. As it was, the only colors that he generally concerned himself with were the primary hues he wore while flying about in one guise and the neutral tones he wore while walking about in the other. But when it came to what was appropriate for his and his betrothed's wedding, he had no idea.
"And she thought it'd be hilarious to make me come up with something on my own," interjected Clark.
Still chuckling, Lois quipped, "That's because it was hilarious."
"She could've solved my problem in two seconds."
"Which is exactly what I did… eventually."
Clark retaliated against Lois's blasé retort by poking his finger into the ticklish spot on her side, causing her to jump, and took it upon himself to tell the rest of the story.
From the moment they'd gotten engaged, related Clark with feigned annoyance, Lois had insisted that she wouldn't live under the same roof as him until the date for their wedding was set and its notices delivered. But as they were each to move in to their recently finished high-rise home within a couple weeks of his failed meeting with the printer, he figured that she'd relent in her refusal to help him before long. Unfortunately, he underestimated her determination to prove her point.
Two weeks passed, and she still had nothing concrete to say about the color scheme. Initially, he'd tried convincing her that he didn't feel comfortable having the final word on something that was apparently a make-or-break for their occasion, but she'd maintained that she was confident in his decision-making. Having failed in that attempt, he'd then tried offering her suggestions based on images and articles that he found online, but she dismissed every one. Reds and oranges were too menacing. Blues and greens were too chilly. Blacks and browns were too gloomy. Purples and pinks were just plain tacky.
Time and again, he asked her to put him out of his misery. Time and again, she refused, even going so far as to settle most of her belongings into their apartment on their planned move-in day, but to install herself in a hotel until the matter of the save-the-dates was resolved.
Ultimately, their standoff ended a couple days into her hotel stay and for no real reason at all. They were at work and she was on hold with a source when, out of nowhere, she reached over onto his desk and grabbed the binder of wedding information he'd been keeping. He watched her open it, flip to the photos of the venue, and casually mull them for a few moments. Once finished, she scribbled something on a post-it note, stuck the note onto the front of the binder, and handed the binder back to him. Unsure of what to expect, he looked down and read her message:
Groomzilla -
Apricot, peach, champagne, cream.
1) Are they groceries? No, Farmer John. They're colors.
2) Why this palette? It's warm, elegant, romantic - that's what I want for us.
3) Am I sure? Yes. Stop nagging me.
4) I want you in the emergency stairwell in ten minutes.
- Lois
One phone call and one tryst later, Clark was scheduling a midday appointment at the print boutique and soon bringing his suddenly obliging fiancée along with him to it. In no time at all, Lois had helped him make their selections and construct their cards - albeit, only after having pulled aside the printer and asked that her pedigree never again be hung over her intended's head. The apologetic artisan subsequently expedited the couple's order, and as Clark was determined to get Lois into their home as soon as possible, he hand-delivered many of their save-the-dates on the very morning they were ready a few days later.
"Whoa," proclaimed Dinah, who'd returned with Perry and Stuart just as the reminiscing had begun. "That's why the housewarming was pushed back?"
Clark smirked, "Yep. It was all her fault."
Dinah turned to the bride, chuckling, "Well, then, you absolutely had that stunt coming."
Several persons voiced their agreement at once.
"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Lois, trying to get someone in her corner. "I'm not the one who let some little old lady convince me that the world would end if I picked the wrong font. And what was I supposed to do, let him go eight months agonizing over all the stuff he was too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to consider before jumping into the deep end of the wedding planning pool? He needed a reality check."
The bridesmaid shook her head at her friend. "And you needed an excuse to torment him?"
"I never need an excuse for that. But, for the record, I couldn't have been more helpful after the whole save-the-date incident."
With a laugh, Clark interjected, "Only when it came to the food-related stuff."
As it happened, though, Lois's version of events did indeed reflect the truth. Flowers, fabrics, favors - no matter had been difficult for Clark to settle once he had a better idea of what he'd gotten himself into and could finally answer the wedding team and its supporting players on palette and theme. It helped, of course, that Lois was always glad to hear about his progress and to advise him as needed. In the beginning, he'd supposed she was merely humoring him. But as time went by, he'd realized that she simply enjoyed seeing the satisfaction he drew from an undertaking that would only have made her miserable. As a gesture of his appreciation, he accordingly took care to schedule as many menu consultations and cake tastings as possible. For those, she never needed an invitation to accompany him.
Still, the inner circle preferred the account Clark offered, if only for the chance it gave them to volley a round of jeers at the bride.
Amidst the boos and gibes, Lois threw up her hands, remarking, "Why do I bother? Everyone always takes his side."
Had she glanced over Clark's shoulder, though, she would've seen the one person who never joined in mocking her, regardless of how good-natured or well-received that mockery was. At the moment, however, Lois was too focused on Clark's smug expression to notice his best man.
Planting her hands on her hips in pretended indignation, Lois demanded, "You think this is funny?"
"I think this is payback," returned Clark.
"Don't push me, smartass."
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'll tell everyone why you didn't mention number four from my note."