Title: Work of Art
Author: Nadia Mack
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I Own Nothing
Summary: I'm not quite sure how to summarize this, but it's another Lois and Clark story from me.
Author's Notes: I've never done a dedication story before, so I'm not entirely sure what the rules are involving writing one. This is for Artiist, her birthday is coming. Give her a shout out if you reply/review the story.
"He who possesses most must be most afraid of loss." – Leonardo da Vinci
He had thought it was easy. After high school, he had almost thought he had everything under control. His powers. The discovery that Chloe knew about his powers and his relief to finally express them openly. Lana Lang. And for a brief moment, he almost had a grip of his future.
Destiny, as so they called it.
Now here he is. Clark Kent. Walking aimlessly towards a destination he knew nothing about. He was beginning to lose hope that he'll never have a normal life. Especially now that he and Lana, the girl he had loved since he was a child, have been drifting apart.
Worst of all, he knew it but he just stood by watching it fall.
They were still falling, and neither, not even Lana, was making any kind of strides in making it better. This is not what he expected, not at all. Growing up with parents who loved each other, who love each other still, it was something he longed to have.
That connection.
They're really just nothing to compare to his parents. The dream of love, that's what it is, a dream. He hasn't found it, he knows that now, and he regretfully is beginning to believe he never will.
There really is no one out there for him.
Smack!
"Ouch!" he turned, pretending to feel the pain as his hand rubbed the back of his sudden damped hair, tiny specks of snow flakes falling to the hearth. He looked up and stared into the amused and laughing face of the one woman he loathed. "Lo-is," he says dryly.
Lois continued to laugh, marveling at how ridiculous the farmboy looked, especially with his hair all mocked up with snow. "Smallville," she returned the supposed greeting.
She had been walking along the side streets to one of her favorite spots in the city when she recognized Clark near the newsstand. He looked like he was brooding again, and she'll be damned to see him do that in such a lively and beautiful day.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, dejectedly. Lois was the last person he wanted to see, but she always had a way of appearing where he least expected her to.
"Walking," she answered simply and with a smile. It was the kind of smile that looked infectious, and despite his grievances, he couldn't help but smile back.
"That explains it"
She smiled. "You look like crap"
"Thanks, I appreciate that"
She chuckles, moving closer to him while he continues to dust his head and upper body off of all the snow she took the liberty of pouring all over him. "I'd apologize, but where's the fun in that?"
"You're a riot," he says blankly, amusing her further.
Lois closed the distance between them and removed her red gloves, her skin exposed to the air sending a chill inside her. She reaches up and Clark throws her a curious look, wondering what exactly she was doing.
To his surprise, she did nothing lethal or harmful. She simply helped him wipe the remaining chunk of snow off his shoulders.
"There. All better"
He grinned. "Seriously. What are you doing here? Are you visiting Chloe? You know she went back home to spend Christmas with her dad, right? Her classes at Met-U ended for vacation yesterday."
"I know"
Before either of them noticed, they started walking. Together. Side-by-side. Neither acknowledged it.
"I like hanging out in the city during this time of year"
"Come to think of it, you didn't spend Christmas or Thanksgiving with us last year," he suddenly realized. "Is your dad in town?"
"You ask a lot of questions"
"And you don't?"
She smiled, almost playfully. "You're the one who can't stand my presence, Smallville. Don't' forget that"
Clark stopped, she hit a nerve and he didn't even know it was there. "That's not true." She stopped as well, turning to face him while he continued. "Yeah, you annoy me, but I get the feeling that you're doing it intentionally."
She raised her eyebrows. Curious. "How do you suppose that?"
He shrugged, knowing her all too well that she was baiting him. "I'd tell you…" His lips turned into a smirk. "But then I'd have to kill you."
She gave out a low chuckle. "Fair enough." Then she began on her way, this time alone.
Clark was taken off-guard. She left. She just interrupts his solitude walk and then she walks away without anything but 'fair enough.' Her actions threw him off to the point that he had to know what was going on.
"Hey! Wait up!" he made his way by her side, his legs and feet meeting her in step.
"That was a hell of a sprint you did there, Smallville. You barely broke a sweat"
"It's freezing out here, Lois. It dried fairly quickly," he says, evading the prodding. "Where are you going?"
"I didn't realize my trek through the city has you dripping in curiosity. You looked like you wanted to be alone, so I left you alone," she says thoughtfully.
"Maybe I changed my mind"
"I doubt that"
"You doubt too soon"
She grinned, becoming impressed that Smallville has learned to keep up with her as far as their verbal jabs are concerned. She stopped. "I'm headed there," she gestured across the street.
"The Art Institute of Metropolis?"
"That is what the sign says"
Clark rolled his eyes. Lois crossed the street and he soon followed. They make their way up the stares and through their revolving doors, the heat inside warming their bodies. She happily greets the security guard by the front desk, calling him 'Charlie' and giving him to what looked like a sealed Christmas card. The guy gratefully takes it, giving her a hug and handing her some kind of pass.
A moment after, she came back to his side, handing him a pass as well.
"Come on, let's go. The exhibit is closing, so we've got free reign to look around the place"
"How do you know him?" he points back to the security guard.
"Oh him. He's Charlie. He's worked here for the last couple of years," she explains nonchalantly.
"What'd you give him?"
"He and his son are big on hockey."
"So you got them tickets?" he was floored.
"It's Christmas, Clark. Besides, he's a good man, and his son is a good kid." She spots the entrance to the art sections. "You know, sometimes it's hard to believe that this museum has been standing here for the past 115 years."
"Yeah," he says, as she began going into expressive detail on how it became to be. They were going through the European painting section when he noticed a familiar work of art. "Hey, is that the real Sunday on La Grande?"
Lois smiled. "You know your paintings"
He shook his head, a little embarrassed. "Not really. Mom has a miniature version of it in her room. It's a lot bigger than I expected."
"Georges Seurat. He painted this using a style called pointillism." Lois grabbed his hand and he instinctually let her do so, tugging him forward towards the massive painting. "See," she pointed to the tiny dots of colors that gave the allusion from afar that it was just one.
"That's pretty neat," and he meant it. He looked up at her admirably for the first time. "You didn't strike me as the artistic person"
"Don't get me wrong. I can't draw to save my life." He smiles at the honest admission. "But I do like to look at them. They kind of draw you into another world. Like television, but less problematic."
He laughs. "That's one way of putting it"
"One of the few good memories I have of my dad is when he took me to the Field Museum in Chicago when I was nine. I distinctly recall paintings like these to be enormously bigger," she reflected serenely with a hint of amusement.
He smiled. "You called him 'dad.'"
She looked at him. "What?"
"You called him dad instead of The General like you normally do."
She shrugged it off. "Like I said. A few good memories"
"What was the occasion?" he asked curiously.
Lois looked back at him, slightly impressed. Not only has he been listening but he's making an active effort to learn more about her.
"It was my birthday"
"Oh." Something suddenly hit him. "When is your birthday?" he asked, embarrassed that he never knew. Come to think of it, he's known Lois for a year and a half, and in between then and now, he never so much as wished her a happy birthday.
Her eyes twinkled and remained silent, continuing on their path of great paintings and rich history.
Clark groaned in dissatisfaction. "Hey, that's not fair"
Lois simply grinned. It'll only be a matter of time till he discovered it anyway; so why not let him work for it.
He wasn't going to let her go that easily. A thought sprung into his mind, so while her back was turned to him, he swooshes away and swooshes right back in a blink of an eye. Give or take a few seconds.
He moved closer to her, lightly touching her shoulder.
She turns around and was greeted with Clark holding out a gift.
"Happy Birthday… belated in this case," he says sheepishly but wholeheartedly. He waited for her to take it from his grasp, and a part of him hoped he didn't freak her out or anything.
She blinked her surprise. "How – " she looked around and didn't notice any souvenir shops in the area. "How did you – " after a moment, she takes a deep breath and just accepted what he just pulled effortlessly. "You – you didn't have to do that"
"I know, but I wanted to." He keeps his arm up, still waiting.
"I don't know what to say…" she was honestly at a loss for words.
"You don't have to say anything," he assured. "… but if you don't mind, you can accept the gift, my arm's getting tired"
Lois laughs, and it sounded like music. She slowly takes the gift from his hand when a sudden current passed between them, and this time, it threw him for a surprise. Lois either didn't feel it or she wasn't acknowledging it. But he wondered what it was? A spark, maybe?
Once she unwrapped it, a miniature painting of Seurat's La Grande just like the one his mom had back in Smallville looked up to her. She smiles, gratefully and literally at a loss for words.
"Thank you," she could only say.
As he looked into her eyes, Clark knew right away that she was sincere and genuine, and he now just realized that it wasn't just a spark.
It could very well be a connection.
The End
End Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't know how well I did this, or if I crashed and burned. But this is for you Artiist and I hope I did it right. I used the 'art' theme because it was your User ID and I played with the birthday theme with Lois since it was yours. I hope it wasn't tacky. LOL!