Epilogue

Jonathan Kent came into the kitchen to find his wife and son laughing uproariously.

"Hey, you two. What did I miss?" he asked.

"Hey, Dad," Clark greeted him. "Is it true you took so long to kiss Mom that she had to kiss you first?"

"What brought that up?"

"You know Clark has that field trip to Metropolis U. next week," Martha reminded him. "I was just telling him about some of the lesser-known historical landmarks to look for. Like my old apartment building."

"Oh. Well, I hope you told him about the fountain, too." Jonathan stopped on his way to the refrigerator to give her a quick kiss.

Clark was too intent on his current inquiry to pay attention to talk about fountains. "Did she really make the first move, Dad?"

"Yeah, she did." Jonathan smiled at the memory. "Attacked me right there at the top of the steps. I was so startled I nearly fell down them and broke my neck."

"Didn't keep you from kissing me back," Martha teased.

"Okay, guys!" Clark held up his hands in mock protest. "More than I needed to know!" He went to get glasses out of the cupboard as Jonathan took out a pitcher of lemonade. "So what was the holdup, anyway?" he asked.

Jonathan didn't even have to make an effort to remember. "She was too good for me."

"Come on," Clark scoffed.

"I'm serious. Kent men always end up marrying above them, son." He rumpled Clark's hair. "You remember that."

"That is the most utter garbage—" Martha began.

"It's true! I told you that you deserved better, remember? Lucky for me, you just wouldn't listen to me." He grinned as he handed her a glass of lemonade. She made a face back at him.

"So then how'd you get up the nerve to take her out in the first place?" Clark wanted to know.

Jonathan had drained his glass in a couple of gulps. He rinsed it and set it in the sink before replying. "I almost didn't. But when the class note-taker wants your notebook, it's usually an encouraging sign."

Martha's eyes widened. "You knew?"

"That's not the way I heard it!" Clark chimed in.

"Well, of course not." Jonathan leaned against the counter and looked at his son with the patient expression of a teacher trying to explain to a slow-witted student that two plus two equals four. "Think about it, Clark. The most beautiful girl in the entire world walks up to you and asks to borrow your notes. Do you say, 'Wait a minute, I thought you were the note-taker,' or do you—"

"Give her the notes," Clark finished, with a grin that was very like his father's.

"Exactly." Jonathan winked at his flabbergasted wife and went back outside.

The End