She's not exactly sure what wakes her.
It takes her a second to remember where she is, and, when she does, why she's laying on the sofa and not their bed. It comes back fast enough, though. Despite the warmth surrounding her, a chill runs down her spine.
The lights are dimmed now, she realizes. She smiles at the blanket that's been carefully wrapped around her in her sleep, and that falls to her waist as she sits up. He's home.
The clock reads 2:37 am. She stretches her neck as she makes her way through the house, grateful that at least, they don't have to go to work tomorrow. It's not like they're going to get any real rest anyway, but it's something.
She finds him exactly where she expected him to be. Exactly where she'd been earlier herself, her stomach twisting and her heart full of - so many things. Love, mostly. Fear, gratitude.
He's leaning in the doorway, back in his civilian clothes. He doesn't come back home in his suit anymore. Well, at least not in daylight - she still gets to see him flying through their bedroom window in the middle of the night, and she loves that. Tonight, she understands why he didn't feel like keeping it on longer than he had to, despite the late hour.
His shoulders are hunched, the invincible weight of his guilt and what he just experienced weighing heavily on them. From where she stands, she can see those things carved into his face, too. His jaw tense, his eyes sadder than she ever wants them to be.
From the beginning, they both knew there were going to be days harder than others, sometimes terribly so. After all, even Superman can't always save the day, as much as he wants to (and God, how he wants to).
Knowing it never makes it easier, though. Especially when kids are involved - especially on terrible nights like this one, when so many of them were.
The images of tonight's news, the faces and cries of heart broken parents come back to her, and she feels nauseous again.
She crosses the small distance left between them and wraps her arms around his chest, his warmth immediately spreading to her body. She holds him as tight as she can, and raises on her tiptoes to leave one, two kisses on the back of his neck as he laces their fingers together over his belly.
She wants to tell him that it's not his fault, that he tried. To remind him that he's done everything that he possibly could have. She's much too aware of the fact that none of these statements will bring him any confort. Not much will, not for a while.
So, instead, Lois just holds him even closer. "I'm so sorry, baby," she whispers against his shirt.
She can feel the tension of his shoulders underneath her cheek, and she hates it. She lets her lips travel on his back, hoping to help fade it away. She slides against his body then, just enough so that she's leaning against his side, her head against his arm, her free hand running slow circles on the small of his back. Her eyes immediately find what his still haven't looked away from.
"He has a bruise on his arm," he says after a few minutes, and Lois smiles. Of course he would notice, even in the dark, even something that small. He always does.
"Yeah, he slipped on the rug after he brushed his teeth tonight. I told him we'd watch Toys Story and he got too excited, even though he was snoring halfway through," and her smile gets bigger when he chuckles a little at that.
He actually fell asleep well before that, exhausted after having spent most of his Saturday playing soccer with Clark. Still, Lois had kept him tugged against her, delaying bringing him to his bed to just hold him, look at him, her fingers brushing his dark hair back over and over again.
Their perfect little boy.
His arms lay either side of his head now, his mouth slightly opened. He sleeps on his back, just like her, but for the life of her, she doesn't know where he got that habit of kicking the covers all around everytime without fail from, restless even in his sleep.
"I can't believe he's almost six." Clark's thumb runs a slow pattern on the back of her hand, soothing.
"I know," he says. "He gets mad when I call him my baby boy now - it's 'big boy' or nothing," and she chuckles.
"He still loves it." As much as he loves letting them know how grown up he is, she knows he does. Knows how much he adores his dad, just like Clark does him.
His voice is barely audible when he speaks again.
"We're really lucky." She tightens her grip around him. It almost hurts, but she doesn't care.
They really are.
He shifts, then, eventually looking away from Jon and at her, his eyes impossibly blue. His hands travel over her shoulders, her neck before framing her face, and she sighs in content as she gets to properly hold him, just like she's been wanting to all night.
"I love you." Lois bites her lip and let her eyes fall close, brings their foreheads together. His words make her heart flutter, just like they always do.
"I love you." So much.
His kisses are soft and tender, and she lets them lessen the weight of the night, hoping it does the same for him. When he opens his eyes and smiles at her, she thinks that it does, if only for a few moments.
She leaves another kiss on his chin, and whispers how much she loves him again before her fingers find his. "Bed?"
Clark nods. "Yeah - I'll be there in a sec."
With a smile his way, and a last glance at Jon's sleeping form, Lois leaves him to tug and kiss their son goodnight, and heads to their bedroom.