Conclusion [St. Patrick's Day, A Year and a Half Later]

[Metropolis—Outside of MPD Headquarters]

Spider-Man swung on his web line. He banked due left around the Getty Tower with his right hand. In his left, a squirming web bundle nearly caused him to crash into the aforementioned structure. "DOWN INSIDE!"

"I'll touch you yet!" the bundle spat back.

"Yeah! Yeah! If I only had a free hand…duh, duh, dududududah!" He shook his head. He stuck to the precinct building's front wall.

A woman with dark hair and a business suit glanced up at him. "Spider-Man!"

"And the lady knows! Top o' the afternoon, Chief O' Hoolihan!" he quipped with an obnoxious attempt at an Irish brogue. "Got a present for ya! Don't touch."

"Don't touch?" She saw him lower the bundle to the ground.

"The Parasite's in there. Maybe you might want to tuck him in?" He shot a web line toward the next building. "And may yer wee fairies see to yer goodly fortune!" He disappeared into the maze of skyscrapers.

She shook her head. "Jenkins! Gaylor! Help me get this creep inside! We'll call STAR Labs!" She raised an eyebrow. Since he'd relocated there from New York, Spider-Man had taken out most of the super powered riff raff around the city. Yeah he was creepy but he sure made it easier to be a cop.

Besides, he'd pulled this creep off of three officers. More than likely, he'd saved their lives. Then he practically gift wrapped the jerk too.

No wonder Stacy and De Wolff liked him. She smirked toward the sky.

[Daily Planet—Twenty Minutes Later]

Peter emerged from a fairly nondescript broom closet. He straightened his tie on the way down the hall. He'd need to check on the pictures at his desk. He wove his way through his cohorts. He saw eyebrows rising. A few snorts rose.

"Hey, Parker! Where's the fire?" A heavy set man with salt and pepper hair eyed him.

"Got to check in. See ya, Michaels!" Peter headed for his desk. He sat in his seat. He powered up his computer. Then he plugged the camera into a USB cord and started uploading the pictures.

"You got them. Right?" Chloe leaned over his shoulder.

Peter pointed to his screen. There he could see the pictures of the fight between the Parasite and himself. "I got these. I also did the interview on the Hastings story."

She raised an eyebrow. She loved cranking out big stories. Still, he took the cake even by her standards. "Travers is going to love you. She was just in here. Nice job on these pictures. Not that I'm surprised." She grinned at him.

"Got to make sure a certain lady's set. How about you?" He glanced back at her.

"About what? The editor or a certain bald boyfriend? I just got off the phone with Met PD and STAR Labs. Bet I can get mine written first." She settled behind her own desktop.

"Remember the last time Ms. Travers heard you dare me like that? Chloe…" He shook his head. He composed an email and attached the photos in question. He pressed send. "All right. Now to do this." He started typing.

"It's not my fault your wife's got that corned beef waiting in a few hours!" she snarked. Her fingers sped across the keys.

"Clark and Lana warned me there'd be days like this." He reviewed his notes. Then he set himself to typing. Recalling what he'd learned in those journalism classes, he outlined the entire piece in his mind. He set up a few bullet points. He embellished with quotes from victims and the slum lord alike. Then he developed each paragraph. He checked his lead to make sure he didn't bury it.

A sip of coffee eased his mind. His eyes skimmed still further into the text. Polish in key places smoothed out Prose's points. He typed up another email to Travers. He attached the article and pictures. He moved the mouse arrow onto the send button. Then he glanced up at Chloe.

"I've got you this time!" She narrowed her eyes. No way was Peter going to beat her to this deadline. She moved the mouse into position.

He pressed 'send'. "Click." He took another caffeinated gulp.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Parker, you kill me! You know that?"

"Slow and steady wins the race. Right?" He got up from his chair. "That does it for me." He shut his computer down.

She frowned and pressed her own send button. "And for me. Don't forget to power down first." She pulled on her coat. "Come on. We're due."

"Parker! Sullivan!" Travers called.

"Maybe not." Peter sighed. He turned to face their news editor. "Ms. Travers?"

"Just wanted to say nice job on those shots and the article. Both of you." Tarvers considered the duo. She'd never seen anyone rise out of the basement at this rate. Still, Taylor loved their work. She did as well. "Remember, Sullivan, this isn't a competition."

"Slow and steady wins the race." She heard the words in her ears. Somehow she kept a straight face. "Come on, Peter. We've got dinner waiting. If we don't hit traffic, we'll make it." She led them toward the elevator. She pressed the top button. "Jasmine and Miranda brought back some baklava from Greece. Can't wait to taste this."

"Sure her uncle won't eat it all?" Peter supposed.

She snorted. "Miri made sure he has his own pan's worth. The Dark Kid's hooked on it." She led them out the door and onto the roof. "Hi, Guys! Hope you weren't waiting long!"

"It's okay. We like the view." Lana smirked. "Knew you two couldn't resist another story. So, Peter, you going to let her win once?"

"Ouch!" Clark grimaced.

"You're not funny, Farm Boy! Parker always beats me! Then I get lectured about competition by Travers!" Chloe fumed. Fun was fun but even she wanted to win once in a while.

"You'll get there. Clark still hasn't beaten me in a footrace." Lana raised an eyebrow. She picked Chloe up. "Hang on! We'll be at the Talon soon." She flexed her knees. Then she pushed off into the sky. Her powers kicked in sending them toward Smallville.

"Are we cleared for takeoff, Red Baron?" Peter supposed.

"She never lets me win, Peter." Clark shrugged. "You're set at the house?"

"Everything's locked up and the alarm's set." Peter nodded not wanting to hear his wife's nagging (again).

"Then we're good. "Hang on." He took Peter in his arms and flew after Lana.

Dinner awaited….

[Kent Farm—Forty-Five Minutes Later]

Martha oversaw Preparation's final stages. She mashed freshly boiled potatoes with fresh milk and butter. She knew the apple pie wouldn't be ready for a few more minutes. "How's the main course."

"We're almost set, Mrs. Kent." Gwen took the lid off of the crock pot. She wafted the aroma to her nose. "Oh that's going to be good!"

"I should say so! Land sakes, Gwendolyn. I never saw anyone fret over it like you do." Aunt May had to smile at her 'niece-in-law'. She ambled over to the other side of the stove. She stirred the sharp mustard sauce. "Those potatoes smell heavenly, Martha."

"You're doing great on that sauce too. Thanks though!" Martha cheered.

"We got everyone and our guy to look after." Gwen smiled. Thanks to Clark, she and Peter did dinner twice a week at the Talon or the mansion.

"And his partner too." Lex quipped. He worked on the couch in the living room. He checked a text. "Peter beat her again."

"That boy! Honestly!" Aunt May shook her head.

"More than likely, it's Chloe who's instigating it. I want to see Sullivan rise to the challenge." Lex coughed. He heard the truck rolling into the driveway. "I believe that is the rest of our party." He powered down the laptop. He walked out. "Hey, Guys! How goes it?"

"We're great, Lex. Where's everyone else?" Peter looked around.

"The Duboises, Miranda and Jasmine met the Cranes and Jennifer up in Wabash. They're spending the weekend at the farm." Lex embraced Chloe. "You're still the sharpest witted reporter there is, Sullivan."

"Well! That's nice of you to say, Luthor. Got to keep you on your toes." She smirked at him.

"Your aunt and wife are lying in wait, Peter." Lex raised an eyebrow.

"I can imagine." Peter hustled toward the door. He remembered to take off his shoes. "Hi, Everyone!"

"Good Evening, Peter!" Martha called. "Are Chloe, Clark and Lana with you? We're almost ready!"

"Sorry. Chloe and I had a sudden deadline come up." He hugged his aunt. "How's everything?"

"I am fine, Peter. You shouldn't harass that girl like that, you Scamp!" Aunt May lectured half-seriously.

"Yes, Aunt May." Peter smiled in spite of the lecture. Then he moved onto his lady. "Hi."

"Hey, Mr. P." Gwen shut the crock pot off. "Missed you."

"Miss you more. How's the student teaching?" Peter knew Gwen was in her last semester of evaluation. He hoped she would find a position in Metro's schools.

"It's great. The kids are on Spring Break. Maybe I might spend the week in Metro at the house?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. She grinned at him. "Can't be having you feeling lonely, Man of Mine."

"Never with you on the case." He kissed her forehead. "Nor you, Aunt May."

"You two need your time alone as well." Aunt May reminded them. She shut off the stove. She watched the mustard sauce go into a serving bowl.

"I've got this." Martha set the corned beef on a serving plate. She put the boiled vegetables into another bowl and mashed potatoes into still another one. "Let's get this table finished."

Jonathan came in the front door. "Hey there! I thought I saw you two with Clark and Lana! They're right behind me. That sure smells and looks great!"

"That's what we like to hear." Martha motioned for them to sit down.

"We made a killing this week between your recipe and Dave's." Lex told Gwen. "Those sandwiches flew out the window."

"Glad to hear we could help." Gwen smiled.

"You sure do your share of that around here." Clark felt his mouth water at the sight of the food.

"We help each other, Clark. We all benefit." Lana squeezed his hand.

"And we have each other's backs," Lex agreed.

"Especially with editors," Chloe chimed in.

"On that note, we should dig in." Jonathan urged everyone to get into it.

While Internship had a plan, it quickly adapted and transformed into something completely different. Yet everything worked out. More so, the plan moved toward its logical conclusion….

THE END