Lois and Clark sat opposite each other at the Kent Farm table, both staring blankly into space, contemplating on similar topics. Bowls of cereal lay untouched, as their thoughts completely overtook their minds. Each took undecided turn in looking at the other before looking away again, only to have the process repeated by the other member of the household.

Things were awkward.

They continued to struggle in silence, hating what had happened to them. They were friends, nothing more, what had changed? Nothing had. That was the thing. Nothing had changed, which meant that this, whatever 'this' was, had to have been there before. Before either of them had realized it.

"We need to talk." they said simultaneously, "You first. No you."
They stopped, wishing to end the echoed atmosphere.

"This could go on forever." Lois sighed, clearly annoyed at their shared wavelength. "Smallville, you go first."

"I just wanted to ask, whether we were both okay." he shifted, uncertain whether he had put his point across correctly. "Are we okay?"

Lois was stuck. She honestly didn't know, but how could she let him know that? What could she say? What could she do? She didn't even know what she wanted.

She wanted him.

This was it. Her perfect opening. The perfect time where she can say everything. Everything that she had been bottling up for five years. She could do the most unlikely thing that Lois would ever do. Then. Right then.

"Clark..."

The tones of Whitesnake were blaring through the room as Lois' cellphone interrupted her. Frustrated, she looked from Clark to the table between them, where Chloe's name could be seen flashing with each coming second.

"Hold that thought." She picked it up. "Hey Chlo, is it important? I'm kinda busy."

"Well, I have a lead on the guy you and Clark found composting yesterday."

Clark added, "What is it?"

"Chloe has a lead."

"Put her on loudspeaker." They listened.

"The autopsy report came in on Ewan Wilson, and it seems that his death is as much of an accident as your stumbling on his body." Chloe paused, indicating that she was translating the files into simpler terms. "It says that he had high levels of toxins in his system."

"So he was poisoned?" Clark looked at Lois. "Why didn't the hospital notice? This was a high risk patient, he would have had security placed around him."

"But from the look and smell of that body, he'd been dead a while. So, someone in the hospital must be in on the murder."

"One step ahead of you Lois. I checked the hospital files. Wilson's doctor, Dr Stanford, has signed a document stating of his daily check-ups on Wilson's progress. He's submitted daily reports to the court, reports which mysteriously stopped yesterday."

"So, find Stanford..."

"...find the story."

Lois and Clark looked at each other, they could practically feel the smirk from the other end of the phone. They could practically hear Chloe think: Finishing each others' sentences now are we?

"Umm... Yeah, so, we'd better go... You know, check out the address." Lois stumbled, forgetting more and more of the English language.

"Yeah, that'd be good." Clark replied weakly.

"Okay." Chloe's smugness rung out through the cellphone. "I'll text you his home address."

"Bye Chlo."

"Bye!"

The line cut out, but not before a snicker slipped through into the kitchen of the Kent Farm. Lois, ignoring the awkward atmosphere, grabbed her bag and keys. "Come on Smallville, I'll drive."