Lois is quickly learning that being Superman's wife is a job in itself and it figures that Clark's lack of bodily fluids during a Metropolis-wide heatwave would be the latest fire to put out.
Written for the Hot Summer Writes Bingo Fest for the prompt 'Box fan'.
Lois is waiting by the elevator when she overhears Trish, the Daily Planet gossip columnist, talking about Clark.
"Isn't he the sweetest? He bought portable box fans for everyone after he found out the air conditioning wasn't working."
"I know!" Lois can't make out the other voice, but it sounds like Amy Flatt, the Planet's senior travel correspondent. "It's funny because he still looks so... pristine. Not a single hair out of place. Not a single drop of sweat. Even now!"
"Honestly? This heatwave would be worth it just to see him loosen up. Mmm. Would I love to see that."
"Trish!" Sounds-Like-Amy-Flatt admonishes her. "Isn't he dating Lois Lane?"
"Allegedly. They're always so cagey around each other. We all know she's too much woman for him anyway."
"She's too much for all of us. Did you see her on the news last week? She was dangling off yet another building?"
Sounds-Like-Amy snorts. "Rumour has it, she gets herself into these situations just to see Superman."
"Who can blame her?" Trish squeals like an overexcited cat. "That cape is everything!"
Lois counts to five and tunes out the rest of the conversation. It figures that Clark's lack of bodily fluids during a Metropolis-wide heatwave would be the latest fire to put out.
Two weeks ago, it was the ceiling tile that broke loose and smashed onto his desk. No one could understand how Clark came out unscathed. Before that, the elevator shorted and sent the carriage plummeting to the basement, only for Clark to emerge with nary a scratch on him. Lois is quickly learning that being Superman's wife is a job in itself. It's a pity she can't tack it onto her résumé, the offers would come flying in (along with a villain or two).
The elevator doors open with a ping and woosh, and she finds Clark standing there looking cool, refreshed and perfect.
Too perfect for near hundred-degree weather.
"Clark!" Lois sighs to herself. "We need to talk."
"Lois, I was just coming to see you. There's been a development on the Peterson story."
"We have a little situation developing right here."
Clark pushes his glasses up his nose and peers down at her. "We do?"
"Trish is wondering why you're not sweating!"
"She is?" Clark glances around and turns back to Lois. "Who's Trish?"
"Clark."
"Sorry. Uh. I don't know what you want me to do, Lois. Dump a bucket of water over my head?"
"It might help."
"It's not like anyone else cares that I'm not sweating."
Ron Troupe passes by then and aims a glare in Clark's direction. "Geez, Kent. Rub it in, why don't ya? I'm on my third shirt change today already."
Clark looks back at Lois. "Okay, fine. Maybe people do care."
"Luckily for you, I have a solution."
Five minutes later, Clark is in Lois's office staring at the cylinder-shaped bottle she pulled out of her purse. "Hydrating mist?"
"It's not going to kill you, Clark."
"You're telling me you bought water in a prepackaged spray bottle?" Clark is eyeing up the mist like it's liquid Kryptonite and Lois rolls her eyes.
He might be the world's greatest superhero, but sometimes he's just like a regular man. Willfully ignorant when it comes to anything that isn't football or corn chips.
"It serves its purpose. We can talk about my vegan-friendly lipstick and blusher next if you'd like."
"I think I'll pass."
Wrinkling his nose, Clark pops open the top buttons of his shirt, revealing the red and blue of his costume.
"Honey, you're going to have to lose the suit, too."
"And where do you suppose I put it?"
"At home? It'll only add, what, an extra second to your routine?"
"An extra thirty-two seconds and that could make all the difference."
"Fine." Lois points upwards. "Hide it up on the roof."
Before she can blink, there's a gust of wind and Clark's exactly where he was, except there's a patch of tan, damp skin where the costume was. "Happy?"
Lois swallows, trying to keep her mind focused on the situation at hand.
"Yes. Yes, I am. Now spray your pits."
"Lois!"
"Trish is a bloodhound, Clark. She makes me look like the tooth fairy when it comes to sniffing out the hot gossip. Your box fan routine was cute, but maybe it would have been easier to fix the AC."
Clark's eyes light up. "Done and done."
It takes five minutes for the system to whirl to life, providing Lois with blissfully cool air.
"Clark. If you knew how to fix it, why didn't you just do it in the first place? Why all the fans?"
"Do you know how many words I've written today?" Clark grimaces. "Zero. Turns out the hot weather makes people do some very stupid things."
"I'll say. A certain someone bought twenty-six box fans. That's not very green, Clark."
"Yeah, well, after Perry's fifth voicemail, I figured I needed a good excuse for why I'd been absent all morning."
Lois doesn't argue, fully aware of Perry White's irate mood. He threw her out of his office just before she stumbled across Trish and Sounds-Like-Amy. It occurs to her then that she's missed Clark. Every time she's passed through the newsroom he's been absent and she feels bad for springing the whole no sweating thing on him before making sure he's alright.
"Is everything okay, Smallville?"
It's been a quiet day on the news front, but Lois has lived with Clark long enough to know that sometimes, it's the smaller saves that have the biggest impact.
Clark smiles. "Nothing I can't handle. Just a few kids jumping into rivers, and a train derailment that barely even started before I got there."
"I'm just glad that the only monster we're dealing with today is the heat and not a mutant on the loose."
"Me too." Clark winks at her. "Who knows, I might just make it on time for dinner tonight."
