Disclaimer: Characters belong to DC, WB, AlMiles, etc. etc. etc. I only own the story.
Chapter 7
"Okay, who ordered the tall no whip decaf soy mocha latte?"
She had to shout to be heard over the growing evening crowd. Halfway into her second shift, she realized that the new waitress she'd hired only last week was not coming in.
The middle-aged man grabbed the coffee out of her hand and hastily made his way back through the multitude towards the door. She didn't blame him. She'd leave, too, if this weren't her home and her source of income.
She hadn't gotten much sleep last night, the events in the loft still weighing on her mind.
She'd crawled into bed as soon as she walked in the door, not bothering to change into her pajamas. She drifted in and out of consciousness most of the night. When she woke that morning, her pillow was soaked. She'd apparently cried in her sleep at some point during the night. She hoped it was all out of her system.
It had since been a long day. She had an eight o'clock class that morning, the only class she could get into on short notice this late in the semester at Central Kansas. She'd decided to take some journalism classes per Chloe's prodding. After class, she had to rush over to the Talon for her first shift at ten.
It was now seven o'clock on Friday night and, apparently, there was nothing else to do in the town but hang out in the local coffee shop. Of course, ever since Mrs. Kent got the projector working again in the theater, the locals flocked in every weekend to see nightly showings of classic films. It had certainly helped business. It also got Lois a raise. So, she didn't complain.
"I'd like a grande extra whip half soy cappuccino. And I haven't got all night."
She shook herself of her thoughts and flashed her best fake smile at the short balding man as she spoke. Ugh, is that what Lex would look like in a few years?
"Coming right up."
She sighed as she reached for the cup and fixed his drink. Only three more hours. Only three more hours and she could go upstairs and escape.
She hadn't seen him all day. He said he would stop by in the afternoon, but he didn't. He probably had some excuse. Like always. It's not that she necessarily wanted to see him. But it's just the fact that he said he would be there.
She had already sent Mrs. Kent home. Lois lied and told her she could handle the place with just two other waitresses. She even promised to clean the theater and lock up at the end of the night. Mrs. Kent reluctantly went home after Lois threatened to call Mr. Kent and tell him she was working too hard. Not doubting Lois' threat, and to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with her husband, she left.
Lois was grateful in a way, but she missed having someone there to talk to. She hadn't seen Chloe in a week. She called her that morning on her way to the Talon, but Chloe said she was working on some project and she couldn't talk right then. And Mr. Perpetually Late was still, well, late.
The next three hours crawled by. Her hands were sticky from the mountains of cinnamon buns and muffins she'd passed out and she was pretty sure the strands of hair that had fallen in her face were laced with espresso. She was tempted several times to step out the back door and scream, but she feared someone would think she was being mugged.
Finally, at ten thirty, the last couple filed through the red swinging theater doors. They turned to her and smiled. This time she smiled whole-heartedly, truly thankful everyone was gone.
"Bye. Have a good night and thanks for coming."
She had to be cordial, after all, she was still on the clock. And in this small town, where everyone's connected one way or another, it would quickly get back to Mrs. Kent if she were anything less than hospitable.
She grabbed the mop, bucket, and a trash bag she'd already taken out of the back room and headed towards the theater doors.
The bell on the front door jingled. She hollered over her shoulder without turning around as she made her way into the theater.
"I'm sorry, we're closed. You'll have to come back tomorrow."
"But I was hoping for a caffeine boost."
There it was. That voice. It had a way of sneaking up on her lately.
She smiled and turned to face him, mop in left hand, bucket in right, trash bag under arm.
"Well, then you should've been here before we closed."
He smiled as he walked towards her.
"Do you need some help?"
No, she didn't need any help. She'd done this for the last few hours by herself and she was darn well gonna finish it by herself.
"If you want."
What? No, no. Say you don't need help. You don't want him here. You just want to clean it up by yourself and then go upstairs, take a bath, and go to sleep. Tell him to go milk a cow or bale some hay. Anything. Just tell him you don't need his help.
He took the bucket of water out of her hand as she made her way into the theater. He followed as she flipped on the light switch, which illuminated the rubbish scattered throughout the room.
She sighed as she leaned on the mop handle. She didn't want to do it. But she wasn't going to let him know that.
They looked at each other and smiled. She had to be the first to say it.
"You know, I've heard that when faced with something you can't handle, you can depend on someone else to help you out."
He laughed.
"What? Lois Lane can't handle a little trash pickup?"
She smirked and, holding the mop handle in her left hand, put her other hand on her hip.
"Hey, you're the one that's the expert in that area. At least, that's what Chloe tells me your community service involved a couple of years ago."
He nodded his head and smiled.
"Okay, that's fair. Tell ya what. Since I do happen to be an expert, I'll pick up the trash."
That was too good to be true.
"Deal."
"I'm not finished. I'll pick up the trash and you can mop. Between the two of us, it shouldn't take that long."
If she only knew it would only take him ten seconds to have the entire place spotless. But that conversation was for a later time.
She sighed. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could go to bed.
"Fine. Hand me the bucket."
He walked up and down the aisles and in between the rows, picking up the empty, and the not so empty, coffee cups, discarded muffin wrappers, napkins, and any other trash that he could see and was willing to touch.
She followed behind him, quickly mopping the floor when he would pick up a coffee cup that wasn't empty, spilling its contents. After the fifth time, and after several attempts to tell him to be more careful, she was ready to smack him across the face with the mop.
But instead, she laughed at his clumsiness. She couldn't help it. He really was trying to help, and deep down she appreciated it.
He gave a half-smile and uttered a quiet "Sorry" the sixth time he dropped a full cup of coffee, the contents of it spilling down his jeans. She could do nothing but laugh.
"Lois, I don't really see what's so funny. I'm covered in coffee."
Well, that did it. She was past laughing and had moved to full-on cackling. She doubled over in hysterics, bracing herself on one of the seats. All the stress of the day was finally coming out.
"No, it's not that." She could barely talk. She stood upright and waved her hand back and forth in between them. "I mean, just look at us. Your pants are ruined. I've got coffee in my hair. I think my hands are stuck to this mop from the ten thousand blueberry muffins I've handled today. And you can't pick up a single cup without spilling it." She blew a strand of hair out of her face and looked at him, placing her hand on her hip. "We certainly make quite a team, Kent."
He grinned from ear to ear. She plopped down in the seat closest to her. They were in the center of the theater and were only halfway finished.
"Hey, we're not that bad. I think we make a pretty good team."
She shot him a skeptical look and smiled.
"We're a disaster, Smallville. I told your mom I could handle it tonight, that I could clean up and lock up by myself. I think I should've stuck to that plan."
He laughed and leaned on the seat of the row in front of them. He looked back up behind them at the projector then to her and smiled.
"You know, Lois. We don't have to finish this tonight. No one will be in here until tomorrow night. I can come by tomorrow afternoon and we can finish cleaning it then."
She crossed her arms.
"Oh, you mean like how you came by this afternoon like you said you would?"
He sighed and looked down.
"I'm sorry. Something.."
"Came up, right? Of course, it did. It always does with you. You know, Smallville, you are so predictable."
"Wait right here, Lois."
He picked up the bag of trash and walked away from her out of the row and into the aisle. He turned and made his way to the back of the theater. She turned around in her seat and watched him go into the booth.
"What the… Smallville? Where are you going? See, this is completely going against what I just said. That doesn't make me look very good."
What was he doing? Ugh, guys in her life always did have trouble with communication.
The lights dimmed and the screen began to flicker.
'Moon River' began to resonate throughout the theater. She gasped as she turned back around and looked at the screen.
He came back down the aisle, walked into the row and sat next to her. The lights might've been out, but the Kent smile was still beaming. Her eyes never left the screen.
"Clark…how..?"
"…Did I know 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' was your favorite movie? Chloe told me."
She laughed softly. So, did he ask Chloe that question or was that just something that popped up into the general conversation? She was sure she could find out later, once she managed to get in touch with her cousin.
She turned and looked at him. He smiled and handed her a tub of popcorn, still hot from the popper, and set two coffees in the cup holders.
This was the second time in two days Clark Kent had made Lois Lane speechless. But that's okay. Actions always did speak louder than words.