Surprise, all! The chapter, she is triple-beta-ed this week, and a day early. Hot off the email and delivered piping-hot to you this week.

I'm not even going to begin to ruin the amusement factor here but even a tease. So without further ado, ladies and my two gentlemen, might I present...

"And the supplier shipped us forty yards of beige silk instead of the indigo, which is going to set us back another week while they get us what we actually ordered in the first place," Lana's assistant, Kay, groused as she paced back and forth. "Oh, and you know, Sadie was doing the alterations in Milan. Well, she misread a label on some cold medicine – she doesn't read Italian – and took, like, four times the dose. She's always been pretty quiet, so no one noticed that she fell asleep in the middle of work. Oh, and they had to let out all her hems and do them over, because she was basically stoned on NyQuil. Not to mention, the guy we're renting the villa from says he'll have someone out to look at the…"

Lana was listening, but didn't interrupt. In truth, her attention was starting to drift, and she began absently toying with the water-ring her soda had left on her desk. Most of the things Kay was reporting on had already been dealt with, or would be soon. None of it actually required Lana's personal intervention. Actually, she didn't even need to be in Milan personally until next week. Although Kay didn't seem to agree…

"And if you were out there, like you should've been last week…" Kay continued, and Lana decided to put a stop to that.

"Kay," she said quietly. When the younger woman turned to look directly into her employer's eyes, she hushed immediately. Lana Lang was easy to work for – she was polite, undemanding, pleasant to be around, and she was always both sensible and flexible about what she asked of her assistant. If she had a fault, it was that she was a trifle too nice, the kind of person who sometimes got taken advantage of in the cutthroat fashion world.

Now, though, those sea-green eyes held a hint of steel, and her tone was quite level. "I appreciate your concern, Kay," Lana said. "But I'm not needed in Milan until next week. Perhaps not even then. More work will get done if 'the boss' isn't there hovering over everyone's shoulders, making them nervous, and anything that requires my personal touch can be handled by phone. For the moment, I'm staying in Metropolis. I have business here."

Kay had gotten into the habit of talking to Lana like a friend instead of a boss, and one moment of apparent sternness didn't change a long-established habit. "You mean your boy-toy," she retorted, and immediately regretted the words.

Lana just gave her a cool, steady look. "Richard is one of the reasons I'm staying, yes," she replied calmly. "And you've made your feelings known about that silly little gossip blurb before."

The younger woman crossed her arms. Since she'd started this, she might as well finish it. "Lana, I've known you most of a year. And you've never let anything distract you like this before. Especially not men. But this guy… You're willing to drop everything after the show and run off with him, and now you're putting off the trip to Milan because of him. What's going on? Out of all the guys who've asked you out, why is this one special?"

Lana sighed; it was true that she had kept herself clear of romantic entanglements since her divorce, in spite of having received quite a few invitations. Life was just easier that way, letting her focus on her business. "Kay, leave it. Richard is… He's a good man. And he's not after my money, whatever you might think." I doubt he even knew about it, until the article in his newspaper pointed it out. And I'm certain he doesn't care. It takes a good amount of ready cash to be a pilot, and he's the International editor, so he's not broke.

"You barely know him," Kay harped, and Lana let her go on. How could you explain that instant familiarity that being in a life-or-death situation created? Or how sharing a secret – one as huge as Superman's identity – could bring two people so close? If Kay didn't know, she wouldn't listen to explanations.

During the entire conversation, Lana had been absently playing with the little puddle of condensation on her desk. Now Kay glanced down and exclaimed, "Good Lord, do you even know what you're doing? Drawing hearts in the soon-to-be water stain on your desk? Lana, come on! You're acting like a lovesick teenager!"

"Kay, I am far from a teenager," Lana replied with all the dignity she could muster. The heart shape had been entirely unconscious, but she wouldn't let her embarrassment show. "And I'm not being irresponsible. That will be all, Kay," she added, seeing her assistant open her mouth to speak again.

"So you're still not going to Milan," was all Kay said.

"Not yet," Lana said, ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that whispered, Some time away from him would be good. Being around Richard makes you light-headed. Otherwise you would never have wound up on the gossip page of a major newspaper.

She stood up to go, thanking Kay for keeping her updated. An internal debate had begun over Richard in the past few days, Lana torn and unable to decide which advice she should take. Another little voice spoke to her then, and it was more persuasive of late, if less sensible than her urge to go to Milan now. There's no need to go just yet, it whispered. They don't really need you over there until a day or so before the showing, and you've got two weeks still. See where this thing with Richard is going. What if you leave and he decides you're more trouble than you're worth, with all this traveling and everything? What if he loses interest and takes up with some blonde right out of college? Do you really want to be looking back on this when you're an old maid and wishing you'd had the courage to follow through?

The answer came quickly, and it sounded just a little like her mother's voice. If he does that, then he wasn't worthy of you to begin with. If he can't give you time to make up your mind, you're better off without him. Even Clark gave Lois that, and you know how badly he wants her back.

…

Martha's jaw dropped slightly. Well. I suppose I've just been told off, she thought. "Son…" she said softly.

"If you're going to place blame, mother, it rests on both of us. On me more than Lois," Clark said. "Personally, I think we're six years too late for blame. There's nothing Lois or I can do now to change what happened then. And in certain cases, neither of us would want to. If it hadn't happened the way it did, we wouldn't have Jason and Kala. And I know the two of them make up for any of our mistakes – you'll see when you meet them."

"Whenever I finally get that chance," Martha said, a touch of bitterness back in her tone. But she wouldn't let Clark pursue that line of thought. It was too close to her real reason for snapping at Lois, too close to revealing the hurt that lay beneath her critical behavior. "Son, I'll try to be more understanding of her. I'm sure Lois isn't a bad person…"

"Of course not," Clark interrupted. "Ma, I wouldn't be in love with her if she was. She's just a bit different from the people around here. And I like her that way."

"I know," Martha sighed. "And you're right – I can't blame her and forgive you. That was shortsighted of me, but I am your mother. Do you know how hard it is to be stern with you, even when you've done wrong?"

Clark just looked at her, not sure what she meant, and Martha reached out to take his hand. "You're my son," she said. "My only boy, the son I thought I'd never have. You mean so much to me – always have and always will. I've been so protective of you your whole life, it's still hard to let go."

"Ma, I'm a grown man," Clark said. "I'm old enough to make my own mistakes, and to do my best to fix them."

"I know," she replied, and chuckled weakly. "My head knows that, but my heart isn't listening. I tried to raise you to a certain standard. But when you fall short of those ideals – as any man must, you're not perfect and you shouldn't be, regardless of what that hologram tells you – it's so easy for me to forgive you. I can still see the boy who came to me with that hangdog look, apologizing because he accidentally knocked a hole in the barn roof while trying to jump over it."

The recollection brought a chuckle from Clark as well. "I think I understand, Ma. It would be very hard to stay angry at Jason for more than a heartbeat, even though I get the feeling he's more of a rascal than his sister – just a lot quieter about it." He sighed softly, and steered the conversation back on track. "The point is, you aren't Lois' mother. And she hasn't done anything to deserve the way you treated her this morning. That was … that was rude, Ma, and I never thought I'd use that particular word to describe you."

Martha sighed. "Son, I'm sorry. She startled me; not even men talk like that around here, and you know it. At least, not in mixed company, and not first thing in the morning. Amongst themselves, watching TV and drinking beer during the evenings, some of them might. But women never use that kind of language…"

"Ma, there isn't a curse word Lois hasn't used in my hearing," Clark said blandly. "Drivers in Metropolis are basically insane, and she has a tendency to yell at people who almost hit her car. She's a city girl; things are different there."

"You don't have to talk like that to get your point across."

"I'm six-foot-four and two hundred twenty-five pounds," he replied. "All I have to do to get people's attention is stand up straight. Lois is only five-five or so, and she looks like a strong breeze could blow her away. She has to have an attitude, or get pushed around. And I like that about her. No, I love it. Lois Lane had the temerity to argue with Superman before she knew who I was or that I was interested in her. If sheer force of personality translated into height, she'd be a champion basketball player."

"I'll apologize to her," Martha said, sounding slightly harried. "Like I said, she startled me. And yes, I know Barkley startled her; that idiot hound is loud, and he sounds like a badly-tuned fire alarm when he gets worked up. It's enough to frighten anyone who doesn't know him. I just… We need some time to get used to each other, Clark."

He could tell she was skirting around something, and he frowned. There had to be some deeper hostility lurking beneath Martha's snappish comment. She seemed awfully reluctant to talk about it, though, and he knew from long experience that Martha would keep finding ways to avoid doing so. Maybe it's something she and Lois have to work out between them, Clark thought.

"Maybe that's best," was all he said aloud, and then inspiration struck him. "After all, I still need some time to get used to Ben. I was none too pleased to see him sitting at my father's place during breakfast that first morning home. It might be time for both of us to realize we don't have much say in the other's choice of lovers."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "The difference is, you didn't find an unexpected little brother or sister when you came home. And not because of my age."

Clark blushed a brilliant scarlet. "Ma! I didn't mean it like that. I meant people you're in love with, not… Goodness."

"I see your point, Clark," Martha said. "But what's between Ben and me isn't the same as you and Lois."

"No, but at least Ben and Lois get along," Clark said. "He seems to like her already." He saw Martha's mouth twitch, and wondered if that was part of the reason why she'd spoken so harshly that morning. Because Ben seemed immediately fond of a woman who was so different from the Smallville standard – or because Ben's casual remark had implied that Martha was a fan, when she'd actually saved all those newspaper articles for Clark.

And in fact, before she'd ever met Lois, she had been more approving. But that was when Lois was just someone Clark talked about a great deal. Even when she was the mother of his unexpected children, Martha had been more tolerant. Only when confronted by the woman herself had small-town prejudices reared their ugly heads. Perhaps all of this had been easier to deal with in the abstract, but having the reality of Lois here, in this house, forced Martha to consider her feelings instead of pushing them aside beneath a calm exterior. Clark had needed his mother's serenity during the last few weeks, especially when Luthor had taken the twins.

Regardless, this wouldn't get resolved until the two women spoke to each other. Clark couldn't help adding one last thing, though. "Ma, you know you and Lois are going to have to call truce. If not for each other's sake, then for the twins. I want Jason and Kala to be able to come out here, and that would be hard if you and their mom didn't get along." A spark of lively wonder lit his blue eyes, calling forth an answering smile from Martha. "I don't want them to have any hesitation in coming to see you. They'd love you. And I'd love having them out here. There's so much to show them – Jason and Kala have been city-raised, and I know they'd be delighted to see the fields and the livestock…"

Seeing her son excited by the prospect of introducing his children to his own childhood joys brightened Martha's mood considerably. He would make an excellent father. That much was certain in her mind. But another pang lurked beneath her smile. These were her first grandchildren, and she'd already missed so much of their lives…

The talk drifted to happier topics for a while, Clark's delight over the twins utterly obvious. Martha asked him if he was nervous about being a father, and gotten a rather anxious chuckle in response before Clark changed the topic, but it was clear to her that joy overwhelmed any fears he had.

After a while, Ben came back in, thanking Martha again for breakfast and letting her know he was headed into town. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ride with you," Clark said. "Lois left to cool off, but she doesn't know her way around very well. If she gets lost, she'll probably wind up back in town, and she'll need someone to guide her back out here."

"I don't mind at all," Ben said. The two men walked out to Ben's truck quietly, Barkley following them. The silence between them persisted while Clark got in and buckled his seat belt, and Ben lifted Barkley into the cab before getting in himself. Only after they'd started down the road to town did Ben finally speak again. "She seems like a real spitfire, your girl," he said.

Clark couldn't help smiling. Lois would have agreed with 'spitfire', but 'girl' might have given her pause. "That she is," he confirmed. "And a very admirable woman, too."

"Not likely to lie down and let Martha walk all over her, either," Ben mused. "No more than Martha's liable to smile and keep her mouth shut when she sees something she thinks is wrong. They're both kinda stubborn that way, you think?"

Clark nodded mute agreement. More silence, and then Ben said in a speculative tone, "Do you think our ladies would get along better if we gave them a good example to follow?"

The younger man sighed. He'd been thinking much the same thing during his talk with Martha. "Ben, it's not that I don't like you…"

"It's just that you don't like me with your mother," Ben finished.

Barkley chose that moment to rest his head on Clark's leg, expecting to be petted, and Clark obliged him while he tried to figure out what to say. At last he replied, "Ben… It's going to take a while for me to get used to the idea. That's all. You're a good man…"

"But I'm not your father, and I never will be," Ben stated. "I liked Jonathan a lot, Clark. He was a good friend, a good man. A great father, if the way his son turned out is any indication. And I don't presume to speak for him, but I doubt he'd be upset with the way things turned out between your mother and me. If it had been me and Martha that passed away, and Jonathan and Sue who got together after we were gone, I'd be glad to know Sue was with him. I'd want her to be with someone who loved her, someone who kept her interested in life, someone who made her happy. I wouldn't want her to spend the rest of her life in mourning. Not when she could be living her own life, not just bemoaning the end of mine."

That was a great deal to think about for Clark, and a part of him distantly admired how carefully Ben had phrased it. Had he said that Jonathan would want him to look after Martha, Clark would've been furious at his presumptuousness. But framed this way, as what Ben himself would have wanted for his own wife, it was a little easier to hear.

Still, there was no easy response. Clark had to examine his own feelings on the matter, and it took him the rest of the ride to root out the last of his sense of betrayal. Finally, he told himself firmly that he had no right to criticize Ben and Martha – even Martha's apparent dislike of Lois had more cause than his own surliness toward Ben.

As they parked in front of the general store, Clark turned toward the older man and offered his hand. "Ben, I'm sorry for being a jerk to you. I hope you and Ma are happy together, and… Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I give you my blessing."

"Thank you, Clark," Ben replied, shaking his hand. "For what it's worth, I think Lois Lane seems like a good match for you. And what you decide to do now is entirely up to you. Just, your mother would really love to meet those kids. The sooner you manage that, the sooner she'll calm down, most likely."

"You think?" Clark asked, but Barkley had sat up between them, peering nearsightedly through the windshield. A young man was just leaving the store, and even though he wasn't walking toward the truck or even looking at it, Barkley decided to warn him away on general principles. The ear-splitting bay of the hound drowned out Clark's question and distracted both men enough that they forgot where the conversation was taking them.

…

Clark wound up spending most of the day in town, which was what he preferred for the time being. He could hear Lois' heartbeat, and it was steady, which meant she likely wasn't lost. Unfortunately, he hadn't been into town since arriving in Smallville, so folks who missed him and wanted to chat surrounded him. He didn't have a chance to slip away and try tracking Lois down.

Instead he shared news of the big city and caught up on current small-town gossip. An interesting item was tales of 'that Eastern gal'. Apparently, there was a stranger in the area, a woman whom men described as good-looking and women described as citified. She had an Eastern accent and Eastern habits, like handing her money to the gas station attendant instead of leaving it on the counter like everyone else did. The Eastern gal – or 'that Eastern woman', as the local women called her with a hint of disdain – also drove too fast, passed cars that were only doing ten miles under the limit, and made turns too quickly.

Clark had a pretty good idea of whom everyone was talking about before Wade Carmichael walked in, rhapsodizing about the lady in the red Mustang. It was he who supplied them all with her name: "Ms. Lane."

But the majority of Smallville residents had already started calling Lois 'the Eastern gal' or 'that Eastern woman', and it was those epithets that stuck. Clark sat in the diner, sipping a root beer float, and listening to them talk with a soft chuckle. Lois would have no idea of the sensation she was causing.

After a while, he headed back over to the general store. It was something of a rarity, which saddened Clark. Only small midwestern towns actually had general stores these days, places where you could buy nails, flour, bug repellent, chicken feed, motor oil, candy, and a host of other useful things. This was the country cousin of those big department stores in the city, but far more charming. For one thing, general stores only stocked items the local people would actually use, and in sensible quantities; no shelves upon shelves of useless plastic trinkets, and no five-pound jars of mayonnaise, either. For another, the people who ran general stores were much friendlier, being residents of the community themselves.

And no big-city department store would ever have a front porch with a line of rocking chairs, where the older men would come to sit in the sun and complain about how much better things were in the old days. Clark had been startled earlier to recognize a few of the same faces he'd often seen on that porch when he was a boy. Youth is fleeting, but geezers are forever, as Pa used to say.

When he arrived at the store, however, the usual phlegmatic discourse had given way to an atmosphere of excited anticipation. "Morning, gentlemen," Clark said. The four out here – Mr. Roy, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Lutter, and Mr. Ellzey – were all chuckling to themselves and peering down the road. "What's going on?"

"Met that Eastern gal yet, Kent?" Will Ellzey asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "The Carmichael boy says she's got a right fancy car, a Mustang."

"I'd heard that," Clark replied with a sense of foreboding.

"Well, down the main road yonder is state road two-ten," Al Lutter said. "And you can just barely make out the sun flashin' on that purty red Mustang."

Clark, whose eyesight was considerably better than theirs, could see the car now, coming along a reasonably straight and well-maintained state road. He hadn't traveled that particular road in a very long time, but it looked like Lois was doing a bit more than the posted limit. "Hmm. Looks like she's speeding."

"She is, and can't blame her," John Roy said. "It looks like such a smooth road, you've gotta wonder why the limit's only thirty-five."

"What she don't know," Fred Thomas snickered, "is that state two-ten turns into county two-ten just a bit past th' Main Street intersection. And the county don't pay t' pave roads less there's more'n a few farms down 'em."

"Which means…" Clark trailed off. The mild feeling of foreboding had deepened to dread the more the older men chuckled, and he really hoped it didn't mean what he thought it meant.

"Bit of a dip there, hard to see the road. She ought to hit the gravel right about – There!" All four men cackled uproariously as the distant car suddenly threw up a huge roostertail of dirt and gravel. Clark winced at the sight, unable to help a small chuckle. Of course, no one else could hear what he heard: Lois cursing a blue streak as she brought the fishtailing Mustang back under control.

…

Lois was in a boiling fury as she backed the Mustang back onto the pavement. I knew this was a small town, but damn, dirt roads?! And no warning for the unsuspecting motorist, either. There ought to be a sign like "Caution: Pavement Ends. Surface is gravel over washboard." Damn backward small-town country roads…

It wasn't far to the previous turnoff, a straight shot that became Main Street. Lois had wanted to avoid it, taking the long way around, but her online map service hadn't noted the fact that the paved road ended.

Driving into Smallville along Main Street, Lois noticed the most people seemed to be looking at her car. Must not be every day a strange vehicle comes through here, she thought at first, but then she saw Clark standing on the front porch of the general store and pulled into an empty parking spot. When she got out, she realized that the dirt road was in plain sight from here, and the foul temper that had begun to disperse on seeing Clark redoubled instead.

It didn't help that the four old guys sitting on the front porch were all grinning hugely at her; seeing her hit the dirt must've been the most entertainment these folks could expect to get before The Price Is Right came on. But what really caused Lois' smoldering temper to burst into flame was the guilty smile on Clark's face. He'd seen her almost wipe out, and he was laughing at her! Outrage overwhelmed her shock at seeing him as Clark, but without his glasses.

"And just what the hell is so damned funny, Kent?!" Lois snarled, slamming her door hard enough to knock half the accumulated dust off the Mustang. "Is this what you country boys do for fun – take down the 'unpaved road' signs and watch city girls plow into the dirt at fifty miles an hour? What's wrong, get tired of watching grass grow?"

Clark paled, glancing from side to side. Everyone who was outside and in reach of Lois' voice had stopped to stare; he had no chance of quieting her until she'd gotten over the fright that had made her so angry, so he ducked quickly into the general store. At least they'd have fewer witnesses there…

Lois followed him, her boot heels loud enough to make it clear that she was right behind him. "Don't you run from me, Kent, you…" she muttered, then paused.

The four guys on the porch were grinning even more broadly, and the nearest leaned toward her slightly. "Good morning, Miss," he said, practically leering.

"Good morning," Lois said, her tone completely changed from angry growl to sweetly polite. Oh, my dear God, who is he kidding? That's actually worse than Perry and Loueen. And with a brief, insincere smile in return, she pushed open the door and stalked into the general store after Clark.

He had discovered, to his dismay, that the store wasn't empty. Not even close. Five or six of the female counterparts of the old men on the front porch were inside the store, shopping and chatting. Letting Lois yell at him in here would be tantamount to express-delivering her lecture to the gossip circles. But before he could do more than turn around, Lois had already stormed up to him with her boots echoing on the wood floor. Hope of escape vanished; she had him cornered against a wooden barrel of horehound candy.

"Now you listen to me," she snapped with her hazel eyes blazing, actually shaking her finger under his nose, and Clark knew there was no stopping her now that she had really gotten started. "I did not fly out here to the middle of B.F.E. in the middle of the frikkin' night just to entertain the local yokels! I don't care how funny you think it is, especially with me almost running that car into the ditch because there's no goddamned warning on that damned road, you had better not laugh at me! After everything I've been through this morning, that stupid dog scaring the hell out of me, your mother snapping at me, and every slow-driving nitwit in Kansas idling along in my way, I'd suggest you have a little more sensitivity!"

"Lois," he tried to soothe, but she steamrolled on, oblivious to the shocked stares she was getting from the older women in the store.

"Don't interrupt me, Kent! I've only had one cup of coffee today, there isn't a Starbucks for a hundred miles, your mother hates me, and now I almost totaled a goddamned rental car! And you think it's funny! I'm starting to regret flying halfway across the country after you. It was a stupid romantic gesture to start with, and it's blown up in my face! So don't you dare laugh at me!"

Absolute silence reigned in the store, Lois shaking with anger, reaction, and the slightest touch of hurt. Only Clark knew her well enough to know that her present fury meant she'd been terrified when the car dropped off the pavement. And when she was that wound up, it was impossible for her to rein in her thoughts before she spoke. Everyone else just stared, round-eyed, at the Eastern woman who had just stalked up to Martha Kent's boy and basically cussed him out.

Except for one woman, Jane Lutter. She had been the closest to Lois during her diatribe, and the look of horrified disgust on her face now spoke volumes. Jane gave a tiny little sniff of disdain, and Lois whirled to glare at her. "What the hell are you staring at, sister?" the reporter snapped.

"You are no sister of mine," Mrs. Lutter replied icily.

Lois hadn't been angry before; that was merely fear masquerading as rage. Now Clark saw wrath blossom in the hazel eyes he loved so well. "Amen," Lois shot back with a savage glare that measured the older woman, and found her very much lacking.

With that said, Lois turned on her heel and stormed out again, slamming the door behind her. Clark had only a moment to glance at Mrs. Lutter and shrug helplessly before he hurried after her.

Lois was already off the porch and heading for her car when he got outside. "Lois?" he called. "Lois, wait! It's not like that!"

"I'd run after your girl, Clark," Mr. Ellzey said. "Think she's gonna leave you high 'n' dry here."

Indeed, Lois had reached the car without looking back, snatching the door open. As Clark rushed down the steps toward her, she got in and slammed the door shut, the ignition roaring to life.

"Lois, wait!" Clark yelled, reaching the car just as she put it into reverse. He grabbed the doorframe and leaned in the driver's side window. "Lois, c'mon, please. I'm sorry."

"That was not funny," Lois growled, glaring up at him with the furious pout he remembered from the California desert, so long ago. An expression he had seen most recently on their daughter.

"No, it wasn't," he replied seriously. "You could've been hurt – if you weren't such a skilled driver, or if I wasn't right here. You know if you'd been in any kind of real danger I would've been there in an instant, and never mind the secret."

Lois just stared at him for a long moment, but the raw anger in her eyes was beginning to melt away. There was grudging calm in her voice when she grumbled, "Remind me why I put up with you?"

"I love you," Clark murmured. "Listen, I talked to Ma…"

"You said something to your mother?" Lois interrupted disbelievingly. Oh, God, like that's going to help matters any, she groaned inwardly. Why don't men ever understand that that just makes things worse? Good thing I stopped deciding I care, huh?

"Yes, and I wasn't the only one. Ben had a few choice words for her, too," Clark replied. "Anyway, she agreed to be civilized to you. Why don't we go get lunch and then run up to Hartwell and catch a movie?"

Lois just stared at him in surprise. That she had not been expecting. "Are you asking me on a date?" she said incredulously. Going out to dinner was weird enough, but now I'm going to the movies with Kal-El? What the heck?

"Well, yeah," he replied. "I mean, why not? We might as well do things the right way around this time."

Lois snorted. "You sure you want to be seen with a hoyden like me?" Now that she was calmer, Lois began to realize just how many people had heard her outburst.

"Always," he told her, that slow warm smile lighting up his eyes. "I don't care what other people think of you, Lois. I know you, and I know if they let your language prejudice them against you, it's their loss."

His smile called up an answering grin on Lois' face. "Get in the car, you jerk," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. Her mind was already leaping ahead of events; so they were going to get used to each other all over again, hmm? He was trying to show her who he really was, the kind of man who would take a woman out to a local movie theater. Even if they had two kids together, and even if he could've flown her anywhere in the world, he still wanted to take her on an old-fashioned date. Kal-El was far more Clark Kent than she ever expected, once you got rid of the faked clumsiness and the nerdy act.

Well, he'd better be prepared to see, once again, who the real Lois Lane was. Her lips curved up in a wicked grin as he buckled his seatbelt. "Hartwell. That's north of here, on highway 63?"

"Mm-hmm," he replied absently. The four guys on the porch were sniggering, which only he could hear clearly. Ellzey commented on the fact that 'Missus Kent's boy' had not only managed to stop that hotheaded Eastern gal from running off without out, he'd wrangled her into a date as well! The others' expressions of admiration were enough to make Clark blush guiltily.

"If this were a real old-fashioned date, I'd let you drive," Lois said, backing out of the parking spot. She glanced slyly at him and added, "But I don't think you could handle it."

Clark leaned back comfortably in his seat, letting one arm rest along the windowsill. "I could pick it up one-handed, but you don't trust me to drive it," he chuckled. "Fine then, Lois. It's quite all right. I like it when you're in charge."

Lois cast him a dubious glance. Did he really mean what she thought he meant? And if he did, what did he think he was doing reminding her of such things when they were in Smallville? There was nothing she could say to that remark that wouldn't sound like a further come-on, so she changed the topic instead. "Clark, are you aware that one of the old guys out there has apparently stolen the Jolly Green Giant's dentures?"

He laughed at the very apt description. "Yeah, that's John Roy. He's had those same dentures since I was about twelve – I think he got them out of the Sears catalog."

"When? In 1932?" Lois asked incredulously. "Are they wooden? They look wooden." She thought about for a moment, and then added with an amused snort, "Does he ever complain about splinters?"

"No, but he complains about pretty much everything else," Clark told her. "That's what the Geezer's Convention does, mostly. Sit on the front porch drinking the free coffee until their wives or daughters let them back in the house. And the whole time they're out there, they complain about their health, or the weather, or how things aren't the way they used to be. Especially how the younger generation – and I quote – 'ain't worth a mouse-fart in a tornado,' end quote."

The thick accent he added to the quote, as well as the actual expression, made Lois laugh so hard it brought tears to her eyes. Luckily there was a stop sign ahead, and Lois paused long enough to get herself back under control. "Oh my God, Clark, don't say anything like that when I'm driving. We'll wind up in the ditch," she wheezed.

At last she rubbed her eyes and drove on, a secretive little smile playing about her lips. "I guess Wade Carmichael would be one of the useless younger generation, huh?"

"Wade? He's a good kid for all that he dresses like a hoodlum. Probably going to take over his dad's garage when he grows up… Wait a second, how do you know Wade?"

"Oh, I met him when I was filling up this monster's tank," Lois replied airily. She didn't want Clark's mind to linger on Wade, so she didn't comment on 'hoodlum' – which was almost as bad as 'swell' – and also ignored the fact that Wade would be grown up in a year or two, tops. "While I'm thinking about it, where the hell are your glasses? Aren't you worried…?"

Clark chuckled. "Lois, people here remember Clark Kent as a kid. Shy, too intelligent for his own good, something of a daydreamer. No one is going to connect the boy who used to pitch in at harvest time with Superman."

"Still…"

"Lois, one time when everyone left school after football practice and left me there, I ran home. I beat them even though they were riding in the quarterback's car, and I had to finish picking up the equipment before I left. And no one ever suspected a thing." He paused, considering, and added, "I guess Lana finally figured out how I managed that, now. But anyway, I don't need the glasses here, so I don't wear them."

Lois nodded. "Personally, I like the no-glasses look. It's just kind of odd to see you out in public without them." They drove in comfortable silence, Lois trying to imagine Clark as a kid, and failing. After a while, she gave up, and turned to him to ask, "So, where are we going for lunch? Any good Italian places in Possum Trot?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Clark teased. "Just drive."

Lois' half-aggravated, half-amused sigh and eye roll were his only reply.

…

Ben swung back by the Kent farm after his morning chores were finished, and found Martha rather disgruntled. "What's wrong?" he asked as soon as he saw her.

"Oh, nothing," she said peevishly. "Just half a dozen phone calls asking if I know who my son is seeing."

"So Ms. Lane's met the townsfolk?"

Martha huffed. "If I was her mother, I'd run through all the soap in this county trying to wash out that mouth. She had another meltdown – in public, starting in the middle of Main Street, and then continued her deluge of profanity inside the general store. Where the five gossipiest old biddies in town heard her and made sure to pass on the fact that not only was she cussing my son, he left with her."

"Mrs. Lutter and her bunch," Ben said knowingly. "If you heard from Jane Lutter, Martha, you know darned well she exaggerates every single thing."

"Not just her," Martha growled.

Trying a different tack, Ben asked, "So what set the girl off this time?"

"That's beside the point."

Then he chuckled. "What did Clark do?" At Martha's stern glare, he continued, "It could only be him, if you're that defensive."

"Apparently Lois made the same fool mistake half the out-of-towners do out on two-ten. And that pack of unwashed toothless old men that Silas lets hang out in his front porch rockers saw her. That lot's worse for gossip than Jane and her crowd. It wasn't them the girl turned the sharp side of her tongue on, though. Clark saw it happen, and I suppose she thought he was laughing at her."

Ben chuckled. "I'll bet you he was laughing at her. No matter how many times some leadfoot citybred fool hits that dirt road, it's still funny. We're just lucky no one's ever been hurt out there; that stretch right past the pavement is so washed out it feels like four flat tires."

Martha made a harrumphing noise as she set about getting lunch ready. Ben came to help her in the kitchen, deciding to change the subject. "Speaking of your son, he finally gave me his blessing."

That made Martha pause and turn to him, frankly amazed. "Did he now? Well, then."

"I'm not saying he's had a complete change of heart," Ben cautioned. "But he's trying. I imagine things will be a bit easier around here from now on."

"That's lovely news," Martha said, and kissed him.

He drew back slightly and looked steadily into her eyes. "Martha, it'd get a lot more tolerable if you'd just tell these kids what your real problem is."

The startled look she turned on him spoke volumes.

…

The date had been an absolute success. Lunch turned out to be an unprepossessing little mom-and-pop burger place, which had amused Lois with the similarity to her first 'date' with Clark. However, she stopped chuckling when her bacon cheeseburger came to the table – that was a world-class gourmet burger; a thick, juicy patty topped with sizzling bacon and melted cheddar cheese, all of it on a fresh homemade bun. It was more than twice the size of the burgers sold in chain restaurants, completely outstripped them in flavor, and still cost less.

For the first time since Lois was five years old, she needed a take-home box for a burger. Which was to say nothing of the Coke floats, the handmade malts, and the crisp fries the dingy-looking little diner served beside their gargantuan burgers; Lois was slightly humbled to realize that her jibe about Possum Trot cuisine had reminded Clark of this place.

It was a much further drive to the nearest movie theater. On a weekday and during school hours, the place was practically deserted. She and Clark had the entire back half of the theater to themselves even though they wound up seeing the current highly-recommended drama. Both of them felt that the movie's pace plodded a bit during the second hour, but that was no hardship. Much to Lois' surprise, she thoroughly enjoyed simply cuddling up to Clark's side with his arm around her. A few stolen kisses didn't hurt, either. Only a few, however; down in the front was a young mother with two small children, both of whom were prone to exclaiming about whatever was onscreen at the moment.

Afterward, Lois was delightfully relaxed – but not so calm that she wasn't up for a bit of devilment. They had to take highway 63 home, and the road was mostly deserted in the afternoon. Except for a car in the distance that was only visible when Lois topped a rise. Hmm, it's after school hours… "Hey, Clark, what kind of car is that?" she asked innocently.

He peered at it. "Um, looks like a yellow Camaro. Going pretty fast, too – whoa!"

His outburst wasn't unusual, considering that Lois had goosed the accelerator as soon as he confirmed her guess. That was Wade Carmichael up ahead, and this was the road he'd claimed was perfect for racing. Long, straight, mostly level, and rarely traveled, it suited Lois' purposes as well.

"Lois, what are you doing?!" Clark yelped.

"Well, today was all about seeing who we really are under all our masks," Lois said loudly over the wind that whipped in through her open window. She kept her eyes on the road right up until the moment she turned to him with a wicked daredevil grin. "I guess it's time to show you that I really am the girl your mother warned you about."

While Clark's mouth fell open in shock, Lois shoved the gas pedal to the floor, and the Mustang's engine bellowed. The car seemed to leap forward almost as if stung, swiftly catching up to the Camaro. Before Wade even had a chance to look in his rearview mirror and make sure the car flying up behind him wasn't a state trooper, Lois had blown past, laughing with exhilaration. Behind her came the whoops of Wade's friends and the roar of the Camaro's engine as the teenagers gave chase.

"Lois, this is crazy," Clark protested. "Okay, I believe you, you're completely out of your mind, now slow down."

"No way, not when I'm winning," she replied coolly, shifting so that she straddled the center line. Wade's car was faster, but he had to pass her first, and Lois knew a dozen ways to prevent that. "And don't go grabbing the sissy-bar, Clark, you'll break it. This is a rental, I don't want to have to explain any damages."

"If you're that concerned, try staying within shouting distance of the speed limit," Clark retorted. "Lois! I can't get hurt, but you and those kids can. Slow down, for the love of all that's holy!"

She just laughed wildly, swerving back and forth to keep Wade from trying to pass. He was getting closer by the instant, so she dropped her voice when she teased Clark. "Why, I do believe I managed to scare Superman! You don't flinch in the face of bullets and fire and falling landmarks, but being in a car with me when I'm driving fast scares you!"

"This would scare any sane person!" he yelled back.

"That coming from a man who can fly," Lois shot back. "Something the rest of us can't do, so we have to find our fun where we can!"

"This is flying, Lois! It will be if you hit a bump, anyway!"

Lois stopped laughing then, looking at him sternly out of the corner of her eye. "You know what? This is me. This is who I really am, Kal-El. Think you can handle it?"

Disbelief and shock crossed Clark's face before understanding finally dawned. And then the look he turned on her was full of fierce, blazing admiration. "I love you, you crazy woman," he replied at last. "You're more alive than anyone else I know."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'!" Lois chuckled. Watching his expression as well as the road ahead, she had to divert some of her attention from the Camaro.

The next thing Lois knew, Wade had managed to pull alongside her, driving perilously close to the shoulder of the road. "That stock engine'll never keep up!" he bellowed out of his own open windows, his friends cackling with excitement. "Give up before you blow a piston!"

"I told you it's not the car, it's the driver!" Lois yelled back, edging toward him. She knew the dimensions of any vehicle she drove to a nicety – during the police driving course, one of the exercises had been driving between two cones with less than four inches clearance to either side. So there was no way Lois would allow them to actually crash, but Wade didn't have to know that. He yelped when he saw her sideview mirror within touching distance of his own, and floored his accelerator, trying to get around her.

Lois laughed, Clark winced, and the two cars thundered down the empty road at speeds in excess of a hundred miles an hour. It couldn't last, but while it did, Lois forgot every last bit of stress in her life. She had no room for anxiety while she was jockeying to keep Wade from passing her.

"Lois, this is insane!" Clark yelled. He was hanging onto the handgrip on the roof, which Lois had mockingly called the sissy-bar. If Lois did something totally psychotic, he'd use it as a convenient handhold to lift the car a couple of inches and put it down somewhere safer. Of course, he'd never tried lifting a car while he was inside it, and didn't want to start now, but if she got any closer to the Carmichael boy's car… "C'mon, you've made your point! Knock it off!"

"Oh hush," Lois teased, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Don't be such a girl! It's just a friendly little race!"

"Friendly?!"

"I haven't hit him."

"Lois!" Clark was losing patience. "That's enough! You're going to get someone hurt if you keep this up! And that's our turn – oh dear GodLois!!"

The moment he pointed out the turn, Lois hit the brakes. Wade shot past, the two guys in his backseat turning to stare. Lois didn't have enough time to safely slow down and make the turn, so she turned the wheel to an exacting degree and let the Mustang start to slide.

Clark yelped, his hand tightening on the sissy-bar. Lois heard the faint cracking noise but dismissed it, absorbed in controlling the slide. Her rear wheels smoked as the Mustang continued to skid, the rear end slewing around. When the car was approximately perpendicular to its previous path of travel, and facing the road Lois wanted to turn down, she let off the brakes and straightened out the wheel.

The Mustang leaped forward, and Lois stuck her arm out the window to wave goodbye to Wade and his friends. Clark stared at her, hair completely disheveled with eyes as wide as saucers, ignoring the whooping and cheering from the rapidly-disappearing Camaro. It was nearly a minute before he asked with perfect incredulity, "You slid like that on purpose?!"

"Lightweight," Lois muttered, and headed back to the farm with a broad grin plastered on her face. Whatever Martha Kent had to dish out, she was ready for it.

For a look at the kind of move Lois just pulled there and the two songs that inspired the drag-racing, head over to my LJ!