A/N: The end has come, and it's been interesting to say the least. There have been ups, and there have been downs, but I would just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who stuck with me. So, to you, the readers: "Thank you. You were fantastic. And you know what? So was I."

And so, to finish some good old fashioned Clois fluff, dedicated to my mate Mel, because she loves the stuff. Altogether now, on the count of three, 1-2-3… "Can you feel the fluff tonight…"

Disclaimer: ---

The stars shone down on the quite fields; free from the vial of the clouds their soft light illumed the restful plants that swayed gently in the cold nigh time breeze. In the darkness of the late night, early morning the silvery light reigned free over the whole of the sleeping town, except for a solitary barn, out of which the slight but warming light of candles glowed.

Clark sat on the old couch, his head resting on his hands, mulling over what the past twenty four hours had taken from him, and given him. What it had almost taken from him, Clark still felt nauseous at the thought of Lois lying there, pale, lifeless, empty, and at the thought of her scheming joy at making him think that she was gone; the sort of sick joke that only Lois Lane would inflict on another human being. And, yet, she'd always manage to get away with it, because there was no one else quite like Lois. Clark smiled; there really was no one else like Lois Lane. His Lois Lane.

"So what exactly is it about farmboys and brooding?" Lois grinned as she made her entrance, striding up the stair and up to the couch.

"Actually I was contemplating." Clark quipped back instinctively, standing to embrace her.

"Oh, well, that makes all the difference." Lois shot back, backtracking towards the window, smiling teasingly at Clark's disappointed face. "May one inquire as to the matter of your contemplations?" She pouted, batting her eyes, impersonating another girl of the same initials.

"I was contemplating how one could fall for a pig-headed, sarcastic, fowl-mouthed army-brat." Clark said walking over to her.

"You think you've got problems. Do you realise how cliché it is to fall for the tall, dark, handsome do-gooder. It's really quite sickening actually." Lois joked inching her way closer to her farmboy. She leaned back on the windowsill and Clark delicately swept up a stray stand of hair that had fallen over her face. He stopped and frowned, and started to stroke her hair line where a large red bruise had appeared. Lois looked up, trying to work out the problem when sense struck her. "Oh, that would be the work of the, er, not so tall, dark, and slightly Gollum like psychopath." She smiled awkwardly, trying to brush-off the cause of the bump as she brush backed Clark's hand. "Or possibly the, slightly temperamental, third-point-of-the-triangle. Who, incidentally, didn't take the break-up quite as graciously as I thought he might." She finished lamely. "I've had worse, trust me."

"Hm," Clark sighed as he looked out of the window and back to Lois. "Déjà vu."

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Well, I believe my hand was on your waist like so." Clark said, as he took firmly but gently by her waist. "And your arm was…"

"Smooth Smallville. Real smooth." Lois laughed, playfully pulling herself back.

"You got a better idea?"

"Actually," She grinned. "I have." She reached up and took his dark, loose curly hair in her hands, pulling his face in closer to hers. He wrapped his arms around her and warmly brought her body closer to his. Their lips met again, softly at first until thirsty passion. Lois felt as if she was floating. Clark knew he was.

Fin.