A/N: For those of you who read my profile, yes, my other stories are still on hold (sorry!). I just HAD to get this one-shot out of me. You know how it is.

FYI, this is based on true events. I just witnessed my mom and stepfather attempt to wash my German Shepherd, and, man, we could have won Funniest Home Videos if I only had my camera. I felt I had to write about it, and what better way than a fan fiction?

Oh, and I'm not sure what breed the dog is, so I'm just going to go with Golden Retriever.

"So Lois, how long are you planning to stay in Smallville this time?" Martha Kent inquired, placing a full tea kettle on the stove and turning the heat on medium. Feeling bad about consistently dropping in on the Kents unexpectedly, Lois had offered to help make dinner.

Lois Lane grinned at the older woman as she peeled the potatoes that would go with the chicken. "What, sick of me already?"

Martha laughed, used to the college student's sarcasm by now. "No, it's just that I think I saw Clark-shaped indents on the living room couch earlier."

"Hey, he's the one who turned down my suggestion of sleeping in the barn." Lois laughed along with Martha this time, imagining Clark, curled up on the couch in the loft. She was interrupted when she sensed the familiar itching in her nose. Grabbing for a paper towel, she sneezed, then glanced around. Sure enough, Shelby had just walked in. Glaring at the unsuspecting dog, the brunette groaned, "Oh, it's you."

"You know, Lois, you could be a little nicer to Clark – " Martha stopped suddenly when she realized that her son, for once, was not the source of Lois' annoyance. She grimaced, taking in the Golden Retriever's matted and dirt-covered fur. "Ugh, Shelby! You've been rolling around in the mud again, haven't you?" Sighing, she took a towel from the counter and started to wipe the dog. Looking up at Lois, she asked, "Can you help me with him? Just…hold him down a minute?"

Lois stared disbelievingly at Martha. When she realized that she wasn't kidding, Lois scowled, but nodded her head. "Ok…" Spotting the oven mitts, she put them on, then gingerly placed her hands around the dog's body. Despite her efforts, she still sneezed at least ten times before letting go, ripping off the mitts and getting a napkin. Shrugging, she apologized, "Sorry, Mrs. Kent, but you're going to have to get Clark to help you with this mutt."

Sighing, Martha gave up and put the towels back on the counter. "It's alright, Lois, you tried. Besides, he's due for a real bath anyway."

At the word "bath," Shelby perked his head up, panic in his eyes.

The next day, in the area to the side of the barn, Jonathan and Clark stood near a small pile of assorted items. From his mental checklist, Jonathan said, "Soap?"

"Check." Clark responded, noting the large bottle of doggie shampoo.

"Hose?"

"Check."

"Towels?"

"Check."

"Leash?"

"Check."

"Shelby?"

"Che – uh oh." Clark looked around, but couldn't see the dog anywhere. Using his x-ray vision, he saw his mother inside the barn, attempting to coax Shelby out from under a bale of hay. Smiling, he told his father, "He's in the barn, but Mom's having trouble getting him outside. Be right back."

"Come on, Shelby, it's not going to hurt you!" Martha pleaded, now on her hands and knees so that she was eye level with the dog. She was grateful when her son came to kneel beside her. "I don't know what to do, Clark. He won't come out."

Clark noticed the dog's terrified face. "I should only try to call him. Picking him up might give him a panic attack." When his mom nodded in agreement, he called, "Shelby! Come here, boy!"

Getting an idea, Martha pulled a treat from the box next to her, which she had brought with her just in case. Wiggling the treat back and forth so the dog could see it, she tempted, "Shelby want a treat?"

The canine's ears straightened, seriously considering leaving his sacred spot. He seemed to almost think it over for a good long moment, then his eyes widened, as if remembering something. Resolutely he shook his head and retreated further into the hay. Clark scratched his own head, confused. "Mom, are most dogs this afraid of baths?"

"No, I don't think so." Martha answered, recalling her old dog that Shelby was named after. "Perhaps he had some traumatic experience with his previous owners."

"Yeah, it definitely looks that way." Clark sighed, then moaned when he saw the side door open and Lois step out, camera in hand. "What's with the Polaroid?"

Lois grinned evilly. "Oh, I think that Lana and my cousin would definitely enjoy pictures of you trying to give a 150-pound dog a bath, don't you?"

Rolling his eyes, Clark retorted, "Yeah, but how are you going to take them if you won't come within a ten feet of Shelby?"

"This thing has a zoom lens." Lois explained, still smiling. Right then noticing Martha crouching on the floor, she questioned, "What's going on?"

"Shelby won't come out," Martha replied as she stood up, stretching her legs. Sarcastically she commented, "It's possible that he doesn't like baths."

"Oh, maybe he got that from Clark," Lois responded, unable to resist taking another jab at her favorite target. Ignoring the face he made at her, she came in front of the hay the dog was under and nonchalantly called, "Here, Clarkie."

She smirked at Clark when the dog raced toward her, snatching the treat out of Martha's hand in the process.

Later that night, Lois relaxed in the loft, waiting for the last of her pictures to dry. There was a whole roll of them. It had been a surprisingly fun afternoon, with her manning the camera and the Kents hopelessly attempting to hold on to Clarkie long enough for Clark to spray him with the hose. She knew she would eventually come to treasure those pictures, and not just because she could use them as blackmail later.

Although the idea was tempting.

"Lois? You in here?" Clark's voice came from the barn below. Without waiting for a response, he started to climb the steps.

"Yeah, on the couch Smallville." Lois replied, forcing a giggle to stay in her throat. He's going to kill me when he sees those pictures. Oh well, more fun for me.

Wincing slightly at the use of the name he couldn't stand, Clark reached the loft and leaned on the banister. "Mom said that dinner is going to be ready in ten minutes."

"Thanks for the warning." Lois purposely got up and strode over to the pictures on the small table, knowing that Clark's curiosity would get the better of him.

Sure enough, "Oh, those are the pictures? Let me see." Clark gathered them altogether in one hand and sat on the couch, followed by Lois.

"Don't get your grubby little fingerprints all over them, ok?" Lois cautioned, moving so that she could see them…and Clark's face.

She was disappointed when he laughed. "Hey, look at this one." He said, pointing. It showed Martha and Jonathan, both in jeans and plaid button down shirts, falling over each other trying to stop Shelby from running away. "Don't let my mom see this. She'll burn it."

"I think it's cute." Lois protested, proud that she had caught the moment. "And there's several pictures a lot like it, anyway. Your mom and dad aren't the most graceful people in the world. Lucky that you always caught Clarkie before he could get far."

"Yeah," Clark smiled when he saw the next one. "Oh, man, I still don't know how he did that." Shelby had somehow twisted himself so that the hose was wrapped around his legs and body, with a piece of it laying haphazardly across his face.

"Oh, I hated it when he did that." Lois groaned, referring to when Shelby shook his body, getting everyone within a foot of him soaking wet. This picture showed the Kents and Clark with their hands to their faces, during one particularly hard shake.

"No kidding." Clark grinned, showing her another photo. Lois' face was a mixture of disgust and horror, recoiling as "Clarkie" shook like there was no tomorrow. "I think I'll keep this one."

"No you don't," Lois grabbed it out of his had before he could react and stuffed it in her bra, the one place where she was sure it was safe.

Laughing, Clark paused when he again shuffled through the pack. It was the last one. His mom or dad must have taken it, because he was sure he didn't. It was after Shelby was all dry. Lois, of all people, was playing tug-of-war with him, his teeth firmly grasping the chew toy. Both her eyes and lips were smiling, despite her red nose. While Lois glanced at some other photos, Clark slipped it into his back pocket.

It would look nice in a picture frame.

A/N: Heh, this turned out to be a little more Clois-ish than I thought. Oh well.